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Month: September 2019

Kate Atkinson – sharing some tidbits from Capital Crime

One of the highlights of the Capital Crime festival for me was the conversation between Kate Atkinson and Jake Kerridge. I have been a fan of Kate Atkinson since ‘Behind the Scenes at the Museum’. I loved her literary fiction and was thrilled when she took a turn towards crime with the Jackson Brodie books. It was such a treat to have one of each this year, with ‘Transcription’ and the latest Jackson book, ‘Big Sky’. In case anyone would like the inside scoop on Ms Atkinson’s writing practice (I can’t seem to call her Kate) and what comes next, I made some notes…

Why the gap?

There’s been a few years between the first four Jackson Brodie books and this new one. Asked about this, Kate (I have to make myself use it because it’s shorter) said, ‘I never thought he’d gone; I’d just run out of steam’. She later referred to a concern about getting into ‘a Jackson rut’. She also suggested that she needed a gap after the TV series was made, so that she didn’t have the actor who played Brodie in her head when she wrote him.

So will there be more?

The first 30,000 words of the next Jackson Brodie is written, but the book is on the backburner, so we are going to have to wait. Apparently, it’s probably going to be the book after next. She talked about writing an homage to Agatha Christie’s ‘The Death at the Sign of the Rook’. She also said she’d thought Brodie would come back in Paris, so maybe that will come later – and that she really wanted to send him on a cruise ship. Lots to look forward to then.

What about Jackson?

‘If Jackson was a dog, he’d be a German Shepherd – or a Collie.’ Although it seems that lots of women tell Kate that they want to marry Jackson, she can’t imagine Jackson settled down – ‘he has to have that gunslinger attitude’.

Readers aren’t falling for Jackson’s looks, though. She pointed out that Jackson doesn’t have a physical persona in the books because she doesn’t tend to describe characters physically.

What about her move into the crime genre?

Kate said that she’d been wary of putting a detective into a novel because then it would be a detective novel. She said, ‘I try not to put myself into a genre because it effects how I write’. However, she says that she now embraces the crime genre quite happily.

What about coincidence?

I’ll just give you what she said about using coincidence in her plots: ‘a novel isn’t real life. You’re constructing something; it’s an artificial construct. There is something very satisfying about coincidence’.

What about the way she writes?

Apparently, Kate was trained as a secretary and learned to touch type when she was 18. She said, ‘I can’t think about a novel until I’m typing. Everything changes when I touch those keys’. She said that she doesn’t have much of a routine, although she is very self-disciplined.

I loved what she had to say about a metaphor for the way she writes. She rejected mosaic and said instead: ‘I think of writing as like a tapestry’. There’s a lot of interweaving and going back and mending. She likes to achieve a sense of texture and thinks that you have to do a lot of reworking to achieve that. ‘Transcription’, she said, was very, very character based, whereas ‘Life after Life’ was more about structure. (She considers ‘God in Ruins’ to be her best book ‘by miles’. She referred to it as ‘a very emotional book’.)

What does she enjoy most about writing?

Her immediate answer to this was: ‘I enjoy finishing a book’. (Hallelujah to that!) She said that she felt a sense of triumph.

She talked about good days being those when she felt like she’d written a good sentence – adding later that these came about every third day.

Taking a slightly broader perspective, she said that she really enjoyed creating characters and having that slightly God-like control over them. Earlier she’d referred to authors as being ‘the arch manipulator of everyone’s fate’, saying that this meant that you needed to keep your characters at arm’s length to enable you to do this.

I find it comforting that she finds it hard to get started again if she stops writing. Although this meant that she started ‘Big Sky’ the day after she finished ‘Transcription’, so then I felt like a pathetic failure. She’s currently writing short stories ‘to keep her hand in’.

What next?

Plans include a novel set in the sixties and another set in the 18th century. She said that she enjoyed bringing the past to life so that people could see that it was just the same as the present. ‘I have a lot of novels I want to write; I’m going to have to live for a long time,’ she said. I’d call that very good news.

Capital Crime 2019 – as welcome and refreshing as a good cup of tea

As part of his advice to writers, David Headley (agent, bookseller and co-founder of Capital Crime) said, ‘Don’t get in a taxi with Adam Hamdy’ (author, screenwriter and David’s co-conspirator on the festival). It was a reference to the amount of time the festival took to organise whilst juggling the other demands of writing and publishing, and the fact that they cooked up the idea in the back of a New York taxi. I’m glad he did get into that taxi because Capital Crime was marvellous.

I still have a soft spot for the Killer Women who put on the first London-based crime writing festival (that I’m aware of). Their event has the intimate feel of a club, and those of us who spend most of our time holed up alone reading and writing, and feeling very ‘unclubbable’, love to find a club to which we can belong. And London is plenty big enough for two crime writing festivals.

Capital Crime was a blockbuster, with big names and a fancy venue, but it had an inclusivity and generosity of spirit beyond my expectations – and I loved it for that. It was a perfect reflection of London.

I used to live in London and people often say to me, ‘but wasn’t it really unfriendly?’ They’re thinking of the reputation Londoners have for not smiling on the tube and not tolerating slow walking on pavements. That’s just about getting on with the business of living in a city bursting at the seams with people, people with things to do and places to be. If you’re stuffed in under someone’s armpit, you don’t want to make eye contact. Out of that context, I have always found London folk – those staying and those passing through – to be open and friendly. London itself is a huge collection of neighbourhoods that have merged together over time and it contains people of every nationality, culture, type and interest. London opens its arms to all – with respect for personal space – and Capital Crime was just like that.

So many of the huge names in crime writing were giving talks and on panels on Friday and Saturday. Highlights for me were Ian Rankin, Kate Atkinson and Denise Mina. The Killer Women were there. I have to admit to never having read Will Dean, but a number of swoony ladies told me that I should go to his panel – and I’m not sure it was completely about what he had to say. (I have seen A LOT of photographs on social media of women posing at the festival with Will Dean and his fabulous hair. Just saying.) Other people will have named other writers as their headline events. There were so many to choose from: Mark Billingham, Robert Harris, Lynda La Plante, John Connolly…

What there wasn’t so much of was big publishers and writers’ cliques. There were no separate parties and meals and ‘dos’ for people on the inside track (or if there were, they kept them very quiet and didn’t invite me *cue moment of social insecurity*). If there were any stars of this show, I’d say it was the bloggers. There was a particular posse of bloggers whose glee and enthusiasm lit up whichever room they were in. They were fabulous and represent the readers to whom every writer and publisher at the event owes their living and career.

I took part in the Digital Festival, recording video footage that will go live as part of an online showcase at the end of October. I’m new to this game – one little book being digitally published by Orion’s new imprint Dash Books. I saw other new authors waiting to be recorded alongside much bigger, more established names. Again, a platform for all, and one that recognised how much of the book business is now in the virtual world, rather than ink and paper, and bricks and mortar. (Like London, accepting of and alive to change.)

For me, the symbol of this festival was the free tea and coffee (sponsored by Pan Macmillan) – kind, practical and sustaining. Every effort had been made to keep the festival affordable – writing isn’t always the most lucrative of endeavours and books are a costly addiction – and free tea was a much-appreciated touch. (Hoping for an aligned sponsorship from Mcvities next year, maybe??) Capital Crime was a tea and coffee festival, rather than a prosecco and cocktail festival, and I loved it for that. I’m feeling energised and ready to get writing, and reading, ready for next year’s Capital Crime.

Thank you to all the organisers for making it such a smooth-running, friendly and enjoyable festival.

My publication story

If you’ve looked at this blog before, or you look back at the dates on previous posts, you will see that there are major gaps and there has been a long hiatus when I’ve posted nothing. Stuff happened – and didn’t happen.

I started the blog because I wanted to get into the habit of writing and sharing what I had written. Even when you know you want to be published, putting your words out in front of people can be difficult and scary. However, consistency, in good habits at least, is not one of my strengths. I’d get into whatever fiction I was working on and stop writing blog posts. I’d get despondent about writing and stop. I started another, secret, blog. Life would get good or bad and the blogging would be abandoned. I’m back to it now because I’m excited that my book is being published and not yet back into writing the work in progress – I find it difficult during school holidays.

So, although you can see some of the journey through the blog, I thought I should share an overview of how I got to this – exciting – place.

Like most people who write as adults, I loved writing, and reading, as a child. There were reasons I didn’t start writing fiction seriously until my forties, and I might share those another day. For now, we’ll skip forwards…

I was the mother of a difficult young child, work as a freelance communication consultant and business writer was difficult, I was stressed and needed to do something creative. Unable to find an appropriate creative writing evening class, I signed myself up to do a part-time Masters course in the evening at my local university. I tried different writing forms, started to find my voice and found a novel I wanted to write. I finished the course with an MA, some lovely writing pals, a half-written novel and writing as part of my daily life.

I finished the novel and entered it into a competition, the Lucy Cavendish Fiction Prize. It was shortlisted and one of the judges, Allison Pearson, said some very encouraging things about it. I submitted it to agents and found no takers.

I wrote two more novels, was shortlisted in the Good Housekeeping novel competition, got an agent, broke up, amicably, with the agent, and did some more work on my first novel (and it’s pitch) before sending it to a publisher inviting open submissions for a new digital imprint. Ta-dah! (That sounds much easier and quicker and less soul destroying than it was.)

The editor, Victoria Oundjian, loved Beverley from the outset and was amazingly positive. I couldn’t believe it when I received her email saying she was interested in my book and I couldn’t believe how lovely she was. I was used to rejection (that’s a lie, I don’t think you ever get used to rejection) and re-read the email many, many times looking for the ‘but’. With Victoria’s gentle encouragement, I made some more edits and came up with a new title. (I am terrible at titles. I use obscure cultural references that mean something to me and about 12 other people in the world. I fear it reflects the fact that I am not naturally aligned with commercial realities and, you know, other people. I think I got there in the end with ‘The Busy Mum’s Guide to Murder’.)

The thing with digital publishing is that the turnaround is incredibly quick. I signed the contract about a month ago, did my copy edits last week and the book is published in 30 days’ time. I haven’t met any of the people involved in person and I even signed the contract electronically. It took years to get to this point and now it’s all happening in weeks!

I don’t know how it’s going to go from here. I fear everyone will hate my book – well, the three people outside of my friends who read it. I want to publish more novels, but am concerned that I won’t be able to deliver what the market wants. (And now I feel like I have to be funny. I’ve never tried to be funny before. I think life and politics may have sucked me dry of humour.) I’d like an agent who has the time to help me develop a career. None of this might happen. I have to keep the insecurities at bay, enjoy this moment of success and hold on to my love of writing, whatever comes next. So, for now, cheers!If you’ve looked at this blog before, or you look back at the dates on previous posts, you will see that there are major gaps and there has been a long hiatus when I’ve posted nothing. Stuff happened – and didn’t happen.

I started the blog because I wanted to get into the habit of writing and sharing what I had written. Even when you know you want to be published, putting your words out in front of people can be difficult and scary. However, consistency, in good habits at least, is not one of my strengths. I’d get into whatever fiction I was working on and stop writing blog posts. I’d get despondent about writing and stop. I started another, secret, blog. Life would get good or bad and the blogging would be abandoned. I’m back to it now because I’m excited that my book is being published and not yet back into writing the work in progress – I find it difficult during school holidays.

So, although you can see some of the journey through the blog, I thought I should share an overview of how I got to this – exciting – place.

Like most people who write as adults, I loved writing, and reading, as a child. There were reasons I didn’t start writing fiction seriously until my forties, and I might share those another day. For now, we’ll skip forwards…

I was the mother of a difficult young child, work as a freelance communication consultant and business writer was difficult, I was stressed and needed to do something creative. Unable to find an appropriate creative writing evening class, I signed myself up to do a part-time Masters course in the evening at my local university. I tried different writing forms, started to find my voice and found a novel I wanted to write. I finished the course with an MA, some lovely writing pals, a half-written novel and writing as part of my daily life.

I finished the novel and entered it into a competition, the Lucy Cavendish Fiction Prize. It was shortlisted and one of the judges, Allison Pearson, said some very encouraging things about it. I submitted it to agents and found no takers.

I wrote two more novels, was shortlisted in the Good Housekeeping novel competition, got an agent, broke up, amicably, with the agent, and did some more work on my first novel (and it’s pitch) before sending it to a publisher inviting open submissions for a new digital imprint. Ta-dah! (That sounds much easier and quicker and less soul destroying than it was.)

The editor, Victoria Oundjian, loved Beverley from the outset and was amazingly positive. I couldn’t believe it when I received her email saying she was interested in my book and I couldn’t believe how lovely she was. I was used to rejection (that’s a lie, I don’t think you ever get used to rejection) and re-read the email many, many times looking for the ‘but’. With Victoria’s gentle encouragement, I made some more edits and came up with a new title. (I am terrible at titles. I use obscure cultural references that mean something to me and about 12 other people in the world. I fear it reflects the fact that I am not naturally aligned with commercial realities and, you know, other people. I think I got there in the end with ‘The Busy Mum’s Guide to Murder’.)

The thing with digital publishing is that the turnaround is incredibly quick. I signed the contract about a month ago, did my copy edits last week and the book is published in 30 days’ time. I haven’t met any of the people involved in person and I even signed the contract electronically. It took years to get to this point and now it’s all happening in weeks!

I don’t know how it’s going to go from here. I fear everyone will hate my book – well, the three people outside of my friends who read it. I want to publish more novels, but am concerned that I won’t be able to deliver what the market wants. (And now I feel like I have to be funny. I’ve never tried to be funny before. I think life and politics may have sucked me dry of humour.) I’d like an agent who has the time to help me develop a career. None of this might happen. I have to keep the insecurities at bay, enjoy this moment of success and hold on to my love of writing, whatever comes next. So, for now, cheers!

Bev’s school essentials shopping list

In the spirit of Beverley from my novel ‘The Busy Mum’s Guide to Murder’, I felt I should offer some helpful guidance for parents entering the unique circle of hell that lies just the other side of the primary school gates. If you’re going to survive with any kind of sanity intact, you’re going to need to get organised. Firstly, can I offer a shopping list of some essentials.

Nit treatment

Sorry, but it’s going to happen, and keep happening.

Calpol

Stock up. Schools are like Petri dishes and germs run rampant. Especially if your child has not been to nursery, it will take a while for them to build up resistance.

Name labels

Label everything that you can’t afford to keep replacing. Even at secondary, I swear my son’s PE socks have wings.

Spare lunchbox

I know, you can’t see how a lunchbox can go missing. Let me tell you that they do. They may reappear, smelly and slightly mouldy, but for a few days they will be totally awol and you will need an alternative. (Spare are generally pretty useful – hats, gloves, PE shorts, best friends…)

A box/basket

You need a central place for all the school crap. In the door – in the basket. Find reading log under the sofa – in the basket. Homework left in the bathroom – in the basket. ‘Muuuum, where’s my book?’ ‘In the basket.’ (A single drawer or space for all school uniform works similarly.)

Hot glue gun

I bought one in the recommendation of a friend and, oh, the revelation. No collapsing cardboard volcanoes soggy with paste. No limbs falling off bog roll robots on the way across the playground. No arms aching as you hold on to castle ramparts while they dry. You stick it with hot glue and that bugger stays stuck. The third degree burns are worth it. (Add Savlon to the list.)

Wine

Whether you favour alcohol or green tea, you will need something to steady your nerves through first drop off, first friendship collapse, first fight about having to go to school every day, 96th conversation with the alpha mum about her child’s reading age/fascination with the silent ‘e’/knowledge of the eight times table (who the hell could do eights?)/ running prowess/ability to speak clearly, tie shoe laces, play the violin…

Lipstick

You are going to those school gates every morning, looking and feeling like shit. You might be wearing yesterday’s clothes and not had a shower yet, but a bit of lippy can be like armour. (If you’re smugly noting that you work and will be dropping off suited and booted for the office, remember that even when you’re off with the flu, the kid has to go to school.)

And remember, smile and walk comrades, smile and walk.