It’s the end of the year and I’d like to wish all subscribers, supporters and casual observers a very happy Christmas and a spectacularly fabulous New Year! Thanks so much for dropping by!
Shall we do it all again next year?
Life Writing
Summer news – 2 things!
I hope you’re all having a fabulous summer–you parents are probably already counting the days to when the kids go back to school, though, right? I remember the first day back when I used to sit and just listen to all that silence… bliss!
Welcome to all the new subscribers–there have been quite a number of you just lately – thank you so much, and I really hope you enjoy your free book. And a warm welcome back to you stalwarts who have been with me for a few years now, thank you so much for your continued support and interest.
I just have two quick things to tell you this month–I’m keeping it short (about time, I hear you say…)
1. Guess what? I’m now ‘officially’ cancer free!!!!!!!!!!! Woo!!!!!!!!! After almost two years of really tough times, we finally got the good news from my oncologist a couple of weeks ago. I can’t take it in, it still seems unbelievable. Hopefully I will start to enjoy my new freedom from hospital appointments, treatment, endless tests and checks, and just… well, get on with my life. Trips to the hospital comprised 75% of my social life–I have no idea what I’m going to do with all that free time now. Here’s a pic of the top of my head – I’m ecstatic to have hair again, it’s soft like a baby’s and a bit curly – though rather greyer than I remembered! (Yeah but my skin’s still awful!)
2. My new Dottie Manderson mystery is out on the 6th September. It should have been two weeks earlier than that, but a few things have prevented me from meeting that deadline. And it seemed better to put the date back by two weeks than a few days. So that’s Midnight, the Stars and You – book 8 of the Dottie Manderson mysteries coming out on the 6th September 2025. If you’re desperate for something to do, you could head to this page on my blog and find out more about the book, and if you’ve got a few dollars/pounds/euros burning a hole in your pocket, preorders for eBooks are available here. Pre-orders are not available for paperback, hardback or large print paperback but I promise you they will be available on release day in September.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for the encouraging/uplifting messages you’ve sent me in the past, helping me to get through the dreaded Big C. I really appreciated it.
Five Good Things
I can’t remember what this is called, but it looks cute and smells heavenly – a winter blossomer!
On some of the social media platforms I use and visit, there is a hashtag or thread for ‘3 Good Things’. (esp Mastodon social…) These posts enable people to share about positive experiences, often quite small, that cheered them up, gave them some happiness or boosted their mental health.
Things have been tough lately, haven’t they? Politics – don’t get me started – the economy, just – everything. For many of us, winter is a grey, cold place, we don’t always get to see people or do the things that we love and make us feel a sense of fulfillment.
So I thought I’d share five good things that have given me a lift over the last couple of weeks.
- New whiteboard! It is truly colossal. I grossly overestimated the size I needed. (Maths is not my strong subject…there’s a reason I’m a writer!) So although I need a stepladder to reach the top, it’s a thing of beauty and wonder to behold, already covered in my illegible scrawl.
- I’ve got snowdrops – and grape hyacinths! Yay, spring is coming! Soon my garden – and yours too, if you have one – will be full of lovely blooms to fill us with happiness. If you don’t have a garden, maybe just a pot with a small but glorious riot of colour? Or take a walk to the nearest park and get a lungful of fresh air and check to see if anything is putting forth buds yet. it will give you a huge boost.
- I’m getting on with my (many) WIPs. That feels good to me – I feel productive, ideas are flowing, that makes me feel positive and like I’m achieving something with my life.
- Although we no longer have cats, (cue sad face) I love to see the cats of my neighbours pottering back and forth, sniffing the bare stalks of our catnip plants hopefully, or staring at the birds on our bird feeders. it’s like Cat TV for them! Fortunately casualties are very low.
- I’m enjoying reading. I’ve only read two new books this year so far, but I am enjoying having my Kindle. I always used to favour ‘actual’ paperback books, but these days I find them too heavy to hold, so I’m getting used to eBooks. Like the world of nature, books help me to leave myself behind for a short while and ‘escape’ into another world.
So that’s it – my five good things. Modest but uplifting small things in my life. I hope yours is going well too!
Even my rosemary cuttings are thriving – and flowering all through the winter like brave little soldiers! The colour gives me such a lift!
***
Looking ahead to Autumn and new things…
Our maple is already wearing its Autumn hues
It’s still the height of summer (not that you’d know it from the 19⁰C and wet weather we’ve had this week, in contrast to last week’s high 20s and even low 30s) yet already I’m turning my face towards Autumn.
I know I say this every year, but for me, it is not Spring, but Autumn and Winter that form my season of creativity. I have no idea why this is. I don’t know why, but for me, autumn is not the season for rest and consolidation, but of flights of imagination taking wings. I get quite excited about the approach of autumn and winter. Maybe it’s the cuddly jumpers, I don’t know.
It seems as though the rest of the world is full of new life in the Spring. Is it because I’m an October baby, my lifecycle naturally starts from Autumn onwards? Or because when we lived in Brisbane what seems like a lifetime ago, October was in the Spring? But how can five years there undo the habits of the other fifty-nine years I’ve lived in the Northern Hemisphere? Or maybe it’s because for parents everywhere in the UK, Autumn is when the children go back to school and you at last get two minutes to sit in silence and just enjoy hearing – nothing. Ah, bliss!
Started a new notebook today too – a cause for celebration in itself!
As I’ve mentioned a few times, in our house things have been tough since last October but now, today, I feel something stirring again. It’s a feeling, a bit like being pregnant, a sense of something wonderful happening in the hidden depths, a private joy that no one else is able to share or even aware of. It’s the buzzing of new ideas, of fresh creative energy, a sense of gentle excitement that says, ‘Hmm, I think something is coming…’ I love it, it’s such a special feeling, and it can only mean one thing.
I think I feel a new story coming on…
***
The Postcard: a short story
Here’s a short story I wrote a LONG time ago…
‘Have you finished that contract yet?’
My manager’s voice cut into my little lonely bubble and made me jump half out of my skin. He glowered a bit, angry with me for being startled, but he was somewhat mollified when I told him I only had two more pages to go out of the original thirty-two.
‘By lunchtime, yeah?’ he reminded me as he moved away to pester someone else.
I can’t stand it here. I’ve been here a month, but it feels like a life-sentence. A weekend is just not enough parole time after the working week that precedes it.
I stared at the postcard my predecessor left pinned to the hessian wall of the cubicle. It shows a ramshackle cottage on a beach, an empty beach, with palm trees and golden sand that seems to stretch on for miles, lapped by blue, blue water. And nothing else. No one else.
The cottage wasn’t really a cottage, it was more like a shed or a hut. The roof looks like it would blow away in a hurricane. And this looks like the kind of place where they actually have hurricanes, somewhere hot, tropical. And the walls don’t exactly look sound. There are cracks between the boards—I can imagine all kinds of creepy crawlies getting in through those. There’s only one small window, partially boarded over. There’s a wonky railing around what appears to be a microscopic veranda.
But all the same… it calls to me. Wish you were here? Oh yes, I most certainly do.
With each passing day I’ve looked at it more and more. My eyes are drawn to it.
On Monday, after a tense weekend of knowing what awaits me once Sunday is over, I return to my cell, turn on my computer, and take my first look of the week at the card.
Then work begins: a constant stream of emails, calls, online meetings, in-person meetings, assessments, reassessments, and always those annoying little, ‘I wonder if you could just pop this on your to-do list’ or, ‘Sorry Jan/Lynne/Suzie from accounts/Jeff/Steve haven’t quite been able to get to this, so if you could just help a chap out and…’
I get my head down and get on with things. Lunch breaks are a myth in this place, as is their reputed work-life balance. Most of the time, I hardly look up from my desk until half an hour after I should have gone home. There’s always more still to do, and I usually find I’ve two or three hours after Jan, Lynne or Suzie and the rest of them. That’s Monday madness.
Tuesday is not a lot better, though I quite often get a lunch break and I usually leave more or less on time, maybe an hour at most of overtime. I glance at the picture several times on a Tuesday.
Wednesday is easier—the lull before the end-of-the-week storm. Usually I catch up with my workload from the week before, which keeps me busy—so much so that I often forget all about the little hut.
Thursday things start to get crazy again—contracts to complete, information to chase, people to call, emails, meetings, and yet more calls followed by more meetings. It’s manic but still only a dress rehearsal for Frantic Friday. It’s a bit like grocery shopping the last weekend before Christmas—total chaos with everyone grabbing haphazardly at things just in case they never get any food again.
Friday. So close to the weekend but such a horror to live through week after week. That’s when I seek refuge the most often, gazing at the picture, really drinking in that impossibly blue sky, reflected in the improbably blue water, the wide expanse of deserted beach. As if by the sheer force of my concentration I could transport myself there. I can almost hear the soft sound of the water washing up onto the shore.
Our office is huge. And we are all tucked away in our little cells—our cubicles which accommodate our desk, chairs, computer, phone and trays upon trays of paperwork. I remember once years ago people used to say that using computer systems would make most administration processes redundant, and that there would be a huge reduction in paperwork. The strange, alluring legend of the paperless office. There are eighty-six of us on this floor. Eighty-six computers all warming the heavy recycled air with their hot little components. Eighty-six chairs on rollers that don’t quite roll. Eighty-six miserable people kept in little squares like veal calves or stray dogs waiting to be adopted, euthanised or housed temporarily until either retirement or death claims us—either one is good at the moment.
They play the radio over the PA system—to ‘keep up morale’. The problem is, there is only one radio, and eighty-six tastes in music. I find it so stressful to listen to boy bands and rock chicks and divas all day long. It’s mentally exhausting. But it’s not as bad as Talk Radio. That’s the worst. People ringing in to talk about the tragedies in their life, breaking your heart as you reply to the fourteenth email about the same—still unresolved—issue.
Then there’s the constant toing and froing of the workers—like being perpetually on some crowded stairs—figures bustling back and forth, not friends, not visitors, just milling about, clattering by in noisy heels on the wood-effect flooring. Dropping stuff right behind you. Laughing loudly or sobbing quietly into their coffee.
I bet none of that happens on that little beach. I bet it’s quiet all the time. If I sat on that little veranda, I bet all I would hear, if I closed my eyes would be the soft rustling of the palm trees, the sound of the occasional bird overhead, the sound of the waves and my own calm breath, moving in and out and washing away my tension.
I bet no one ever yells out ‘What the hell has happened to the accounting software updates?’ Or, ‘Does anyone know how to unjam printer seven?’
I bet if people ever came to that hut they would bring a small gift—some fruit, perhaps or maybe some flowers. And I’d make tea, and we could sit on that veranda and look at the water. We could talk if we wanted to, but I wouldn’t mind if we didn’t.
‘What happened to that blue folder marked ‘urgent’?’ my manager barks in my ear suddenly, and I accidentally type half a dozen letter Ys on the screen as I jerk round to look at him. He glares at me again. ‘Daydreaming again? For God’s sake, keep you mind on your work. Then maybe folders wouldn’t keep disappearing.’
He’s gone again and I’m fighting back tears. It seems so unfair that I’m here in this place when there are places like the one on the postcard on the wall. I know people say we all have bad days, you’ll feel better tomorrow. But this dread, this slow, cold death has been going on for decades. What if it’s not how I feel in a passing moment of self-pity but it’s the length and breadth of my whole existence?
This is all I’ve ever known. All I’m likely to know until I retire. It’s no good telling me that when I retire I can do all the things I’ve dreamed of, like travelling. Why do I have to wait until my life is almost over to begin enjoying it? I don’t just need a holiday, I need a whole change of life.
I’m hardly thinking. I reach out and grab the postcard off the wall. Do I dare? Am I crazy? I lean down under the desk to pull out my bag. Before I even know what I’m going to do, I’ve thrust the postcard inside and put my bag under my arm. I turn and look around me. I see nothing here that is mine. I get up. I walk away down the aisle to the lift, hardly daring to breathe.
At the lift door, I wait impatiently. When it arrives and the door opens, I feel a sense of excitement, of doing something terribly naughty yet wonderful. I step inside before anyone tries to stop me. As the doors close, I realise no one has even noticed me leave, and as the lift doors close, I wonder how long it will be before they realise I’ve gone.
No one even sees me walk out of the big double front doors. No one. I’m nothing to them. As I hurry down the hill towards the railway station, so aware of the precious cargo in my bag, I feel a slight pang of guilt.
Perhaps I should have left the postcard to brighten the day of the next poor sap that occupies my cubicle.
*
Rewriting a novel – a nuts and bolts approach
(This post first appeared in 2017 when I was invited to do a guest spot on Pink Glitter Publishing for my dear friend and author Emma Baird.) And sorry, it’s another really long post this week…
I love rewriting. There, I’ve said it. I think I could be the only person in the history of the world who actually enjoys rewriting. In fact, I like it a lot more than writing the first draft. I hate that bit. Okay, maybe not hate. I love the thrill of writing the first 50 pages or so, when it’s all fresh and exciting, and it begins to unfold on the page. Love that. But…sooner or later I always hit the first-draft wall. I know it’s because I don’t plot. I’m a pantser. So sue me, I hate to plot. If I plan out my book, on some level I feel I’ve already told the story already and it loses it’s allure.
But that makes the initial experience of writing a draft rather an emotional, rivers-deep-mountains-high kind of affair. But… rewriting, oh that is a whole new thing. I LOVE rewriting. You are free from the ‘burden’ of creating and, taking a distancing step back from your work, you can begin to rethink, polish and tidy. I love to tidy. Sometimes I can only do this by laying all the pages out on the floor and wracking my brains over which order this mess is supposed to go in.
Hemingway famously said, ‘Write drunk, edit sober.’ I haven’t tried it, but it might work for you. I have to say, editing sometimes makes me feel like I need a little help…
Don’t revise as you go. I know there are always a few people for whom that system works, but trust me, it’s not for most people. You get so bogged down in the detail that you never progress. I know people who have spent literally years rewriting the same first three chapters and have never finished the book. It makes me so sad. Write the whole book, from beginning to end, always looking forwards, pressing on till you reach ‘The End’. If you can’t remember the names and places mentioned earlier in the story, just do what I do and put a massive X, or XX, or Mr Thingy, or What Was Her Name, The One With The Long Blonde Hair, in its place. Or refer to a list of names and places you create as you go along.
It’s so much easier to revise a whole book. Like creating a sculpture, you’ve got that solid block to chip away at. You’ve got the overall shape and idea to work on. Your book is your outline. (You can thank Mary Wibberley for that bit of advice in her book from decades ago, To Writers With Love.)
After finishing your first draft, don’t immediately start revisions. Unless you are on the clock and the deadline is almost on you (we’ve all done it), put the book away for as long as you can. This is the perfect time to write another book. Yes, really. Leave your first draft for at least a few weeks, ideally a few months, or even a year. You will need to approach it next time around with a good degree of detachment to get out of writer mode and into rewriter mode. Then, when you’ve finished the next book, while that is ‘maturing’, you can go back to the previous one. Or, if you’ve a) got all the time in the world, or b) you’ve decided to write a series and publish fairly close together, now could be the perfect time to write book three!
Gary Cooper pondering that tricky scene just before the end of chapter six.
So you’re ready to start. Read it. Don’t write, don’t type, don’t tweak, fiddle, twiddle or jiggle. Just read the whole story through from beginning to end. You are trying to get an overview, to reacquaint yourself with your story. Afterwards, make notes on how you felt about the book. Does the story hang together? Does the plot progress logically (unless an illogical plot is essential to your story)? Do you have that sensation of tripping up as you read—a bit like when you miss a stair and think you’re falling—that’s when there’s a problem, usually a plot problem. Try to pinpoint what it was that made you feel like that. Put a sticky note on the page, or if a computer file, highlight the section, or bookmark it, or make a note in the Track Changes feature if using Word.
If you’re frustrated by not being able to make changes as you spot them, or worried you might forget, again, as already suggested, make notes in the Track Changes feature of Word, or pencil notes in the margin, or use sticky notes if working with a paper copy, just don’t change the body of the book yet. Hopefully after rereading the whole book, you will be able to see the strengths and weaknesses of your draft. You will see what needs to go. If not, give it to a trusted friend or writing pal to read. Ask them to be honest and not just pat you on the back. Rewriting can feel very much like ‘fixing problems’ or putting right things that are wrong, and with this mind-set, this can be quite demoralising. Don’t get into this trap. Remember, you’re polishing, refining. Putting flesh on a flexible framework. It’s all good.
Save your original draft, and make a copy with a new version name, just in case in the end, you’re not happy with what you’ve done and need to revert and give it another go. Again, we’ve all done that, I think. Give yourself a fall back position.
Start tinkering. Start with the easy stuff like consistency of character description and behaviour, check the names, spellings, and personal details of all characters, check place-names are correct and consistent throughout. Then move on to point of view. With POV, consistency is everything. If you’re writing anything other than an omniscient third person viewpoint, then there will be things your main characters cannot know until it is revealed to them. Make sure you’ve nailed that.
Next, check for all those words you overuse. For me, that’s words like So, And and Also. A friend of mine uses Thus in almost every paragraph… it’s really annoying. If you use unusual words to describe something, don’t repeat them more than once (if that) as unusual words stick in the reader’s mind and break the wonderful spell you’ve created of suspending disbelief: the worst possible offence you can commit as a writer of fiction. Don’t rip your reader from the story and plunge them back into the real world. Make less use of unusual words such as coterie or Schadenfreude, these are words that stand out from the page, and stick in your reader’s mind. If you use clichés—please don’t—but if you absolutely must, do it just once, don’t repeat them. You also don’t need to show off all the big words you know. Nine times out of ten, the simple, direct phrase will work better than anything flowery, waffly or too complicated. Keep it simple.
And if like me you write books set in the 1930s or 1960s – check for anachronistic things – things that weren’t invented then, hadn’t been discovered, developed or couldn’t be done, differences of etiquette, speech patterns, all the stuff that has furious readers turning to Goodreads or Amazon and saying, ‘1*, couldn’t possibly get past the comment about using a zip! In 1920? Hardly!’ Because believe me, those little things make a big difference to a reader and can ruin the whole reading experience. If in doubt, ask someone, or ask Mr Google.
Brain boggle is a normal part of revising your book. Don’t worry about it. Have a nice soothing cuppa and relax for a bit.
Check hyphenation, apostrophe use, adverbs and speech tags. I don’t agree with the ‘don’t use adverbs, they’re evil’ approach, but use them sparingly. (See what I did there?) Keep metaphors and especially similes to a minimum, unless you’re writing poetry; they are also irritating. Don’t use fussy speech tags: he responded, she retorted, he espoused, she countered, etc. Once in a while is fine, but you don’t need to tag every speech, just enough so the reader knows who said what. The word ‘said’, 90% of the time, is the best speech tag there is, it’s invisible, the reader will pass on, aware of who is speaking but not bothered about how – that should be clear from the context and what they say. Again, keep it simple.
Tidy your grammar, get rid of typos and unnecessary repetition. Check your tense scenes or action scenes for long, meandering sentences that slow the reader down and take forever to read so that the reader can’t remember what you were talking about, and they have to go back to the beginning to reread, trying to figure out the meaning (like that, for example – four lines for one sentence??? Too much, unless you’re writing War and Peace). Check slow, reflective, emotional or romantic scenes for accidentally humorous clangers, (my often quoted, ‘and then he opened the door in his pyjamas’), or break-neck short sentences that rush the reader too quickly through the text.
Read it again. And again. Tweak as you go, now, but remember some changes will have a knock-on effect and need to be addressed multiple times throughout the book. Now pass the draft to your close friends/beta-readers/book group, for your first round of major feedback. You can’t, sadly, trust yourself entirely to write, polish, edit, proofread, proofread, edit and polish then proofread. you’ll need help. If affordable, get professional help, go with a recommended person or business, not someone you pluck from nowhere unless they have incredible feedback. Otherwise keep to a small trusted group of serious writers and readers who have excellent language skills and a kind, tactful way of letting you know when something’s not quite right. If you use more than one beta-reader, you might find they contradict one another – then all you can do is go with the majority and trust your gut.
Then—I hate to say it—you need to do it all again. I read somewhere that if you don’t hate your book by the time it is published, you haven’t done enough work on it, and believe me I’ve come so close to hating a couple of my books. Your book is not ready for your editor or proofreader until you are absolutely convinced that it’s perfect. Trust me, it won’t be. But it’ll be pretty close. Make sure you are not the only one to do the ‘extra final final proofread’ – you’ll definitely miss something.
As an editor, I’d say there’s nothing worse than getting a script that should be as close to release-ready as an author can make it, but turns out to be little more than a first draft. It’s like seeing a neglected child. And when you make your first sale or get a really wonderful review, it will feel like it was worth every minute.
***
So… how did we get here? A few ideas about being a writer.
Now also available in a German language edition
This week, I thought I’d burble on a bit about some of the milestones of my writing life.
Writing courses, conferences and videos/newsletters: There are so many out there, and I’ve tried quite a few.
spoiler alert:
*sigh* they’re not as much fun as you’d think, sometimes. And sometimes they’re not too helpful, either.
As part of my degree in literature and history, I did a writing module – just a bit of extra fun for me, to pat myself on the back for all the hard work, and to finish off my credits and collect the ‘with honours’ portion of the diploma. One of the first things the tutor told us, and this was around only around 2010, was that we would need to resign ourselves to being hobby-writers only. She said, as if it was good news, that we had a greater chance of being part of the next team to travel into space than to be picked up by a publishing company. I know, from talking to some of the other students, that I was not the only one to go home from that session feeling like I wanted to throw myself off a cliff. I was in my fifties, so going into space was the unlikeliest thing I could imagine… I had hoped that getting a book published would be a little easier. 
But actually, not long after that, I began to hear about this thing called self-publishing, and the more I looked into it, the more I liked what I saw. So, at the end of 2012, with sideways smirk at my diploma, I uploaded my first novel onto Mr Zon, and the rest, as they say is… well not history, but cozy mysteries that sort of sell. (Thank you, you lovely reading people.)
My mother said, ‘That’s not real publishing, it’s not a real book.’ Nothing could shift her from that, and of course, that was what all the newspapers and the books and nay-sayers were saying at the time. They still do. But all I can say is, I’ve read plenty of rubbish trad-pubbed books, and many wonderful self-pubbed.
Years earlier, when we lived in Brisbane, Australia, I attended some workshops for crime writers who were starting out. Sadly, I don’t remember anything the tutor taught us, other than this advice: If we wanted write crime fiction and bring authenticity into our work, she suggested we practice following people. Yes, actually FOLLOWING total strangers we did not know. Pick them up at the mall, trail them, see where they go, what they do, who they meet, she said. It would bring realism to our writing, she said, and help us to understand the criminal mind and all about the complexities of being a private investigator etc. All I could think was, I will definitely get run over, punched in the face or kidnapped, maybe all three. This sounded like a terrible idea, and again, I was pleased to discover I was not the only one who thought so. I didn’t go back. Nor did I take her advice. But I would dearly love to know if any of the class thought, ‘you know what, that sounds like a really good idea’. I hope the library of the prison they are likely to be incarcerated in have a better range of ideas in their ‘How to Write’ books section.
So what did help me to get started on the long and winding road to your bookshelves?
A very old book by Dorothea Brande: Becoming A Writer. It showed me myself and taught me that writers are created not born, to a certain extent. It showed me how to get started and how to teach myself to write.
Stephen King’s On Writing. For similar reasons to Dorothea’s book from the 1930s, plus the voice of experience and not to mention, success.
And I talked to lots of writers, beginners and well-established. I still do.
And I read, and read, and read. Not just to learn, but for the sheer love of it. I read all sorts, not just within the genre I write.
And on top of that I wrote. And when I had finished writing a book, I set it aside and wrote another. Because in the end, the only way to learn how to do something, is to actually make yourself do it. At first you’re terrible. You can’t play the piano when you are five and have never touched a key before. Writing is the same. It’s a process that requires dedication and above all else, perseverance.
My first book, using the back of a Weetabix packet for the covers, written when I was around 10.
***
Fairy tales: Not for the faint-hearted!
I remember as a kid I was a voracious reader. By the time I was 6 or 7 I was reading from a big book of fairy tales.
I remember standing in the kitchen of our flat in Tunbridge Wells and reading to the man who had come to repair our gas boiler. I can’t remember his face, but I remember the blue overalls – not a ‘uniform’ I had been aware of up to that point in my life. I adored this guy, he was friendly and patient and kind, and he told me about his dog. He dated my mum for a long while and I hoped they’d get married so we could be a family and live happily ever after. Sadly that didn’t happen and we moved away, which broke my baby-heart.
But he always used to say how much he enjoyed me reading the stories to him. Sometimes he had to stop his work to help me with the tricky words that were extra long or that I hadn’t seen before.
A while ago, I thought, let’s have a read of those old stories. I was in for a bit of a shock.
They are gruesome, aren’t they? And brutal! I can’t believe anyone ever thought they were suitable for a small child to read. (Not mentioning any names, but I’m looking at you over there in the corner, Brothers Grimm!) Were they cautionary tales to frighten children into good behaviour or what? yes, I know kids go through that gore-is-good phase but honestly!
People got chucked into barrels which were nailed shut and they were thrown into the sea. They got fed to wolves either deliberately or accidentally. Dropped into cauldrons of boiling water. Thrown down wells. Made to climb ridiculously high beanstalks. People’s bones were ground to make someone’s bread. Or people were locked into cages by witches and made to stick a finger through the bars so she could decide if they were fat enough to eat. Turned into swans. Turned into frogs. Turned into pretty much anything as a matter of fact.
But the characters of the stories try to do what they think is good: they turn sick people around in their beds to trick the devil, they try to get good fortune from fish, but still they get turned into roses and chandeliers, or have to run for their lives. And there are the musical animals or tiny people who can make shoes… but even so…
I mean, that’s dark, isn’t it? Mwah ha ha!
***
And now it’s over to you…
As you know, I write genre fiction – that is to say it fits neatlyish into a specific genre type of book – I write mysteries. My books are not, by any stretch of the imagination, literary, nor are they ‘general’ what ever that is. Some writers are quite apologetic and embarrassed that they don’t write something high-brow. Not me. I believe that genre fiction has huge benefits and there’s no need to feel that I ‘only’ write mysteries: ‘Oh it’s only a mystery’ or ‘I really only like romances, I’m afraid.’
You see, I believe that books are lifesavers. Books are companionship for the lonely, entertainment for those who are bored. It doesn’t matter if you can’t hear, or if you can’t walk, if you’re old or young, you can enjoy a book. And if you can’t see, you can listen to audiobooks. Books can be a comfort and a much-needed means of escape from what is sometimes an anxious, or difficult world. We all need a break – and a book is perfect for that. 
I had cancer a few years back, and whilst I had tests, surgery, appointments, sat in busy, soulless waiting rooms, and anxiously waited for a prognosis, I read books. It was a relief to get out of myself and my thoughts and into a world where the only bad things that happened would be solved by a detective and the villain locked up. Bliss! A few hours free of my own troubles was just what the doctor ordered. I realised as never before just how wonderful it was to get lost in a good book. I was so grateful to the authors who offered me that respite.
I was lucky, and I am now free of cancer and healthy, but my love and respect for books and their authors will never die.
So a little while ago, I asked my mailing list subscribers some questions about what they love. Here are a few of the most popular responses I had:
Q1. I asked, What is the best thing about finding a new book you love?
You said:
- Finding a new book can be tough, and it’s important to find relatable characters, an engrossing plot and a style that appeals.
- Many people said they were drawn by the cover – which is exactly what they are designed to do – to lure you in!
- For some, finding a new book or series is like meeting a new friend.
- When readers find a new book or series, they love to tell their friends and family about it!
- Readers like the idea that the book will be theirs to read again and again, and to refer to, a book that adds to their knowledge or understanding (mainly reference books)
- People love the sense of starting out on a journey, of ‘meeting’ new people and having adventures along the way. A kind of vicarious holiday.
Q2. Do you always read the same genre, or do you like a lot of different types of book?
You were largely split over this, with many people saying they read anything and everything, and others stating that they only ever read the same kind of books. I’m largely that way myself. I do enjoy the odd history book and classics, and poetry, but almost always I turn to crime, figuratively, of course!
Q3. When do you read?
Again, responses were quite split between those who read during the day, usually with lunch or a coffee or cup of tea, and those who read almost entirely at night before going to sleep. Some people read during commuter journeys on trains and buses. Now that I’m at home during the day, I tend to read with coffee or lunch. When I was working in the big wide world, I used to read on the bus or when I had a lunch break. It’s so nice not to have to sit on a bus for hours on end anymore.
Q4. Actual book or eReader?
The odds were almost overwhelmingly stacked in favour of ‘actual’ paper, hold-in-your-hand-and-sniff-the-pages books. Most people who read on eReaders said they did so mainly for the convenience. I must admit I’m the same. My trusty eReader goes with me when I travel or am away from home, but when I’m at home and reading in comfort, it’s always a ‘real’ book. The great thing about eReaders of course, is your nearest and dearest have no idea just how many eBooks you’ve bought – that little secret is between you and your gadget. One person pointed out that the advantage of reading at night on an eReader is that you don’t need to have a light on in the room, so you don’t disturb your partner. A great point!
Q5. What are your other favourite past-times?
Wow we have a lot of pastimes! Here are just a few:
Writing! Reading, obviously. Walking the dog, taking pics of your cats, gardening, flower-arranging, cooking, various arts and crafts including model-making, embroidery, card-making, painting in oils, painting in acrylics, crochet, knitting, drawing, sewing, photography. Then we had the DIYers, the mad exercise buffs, the tennis-players, the golfers, the swimmers, the dancers, the joggers, the cyclists. You like playing board games and card games, going to the pub, spending time with family and friends, eating out, sport, sport and more sport. You love travel. You love learning new things at evening classes. Some of you like to help others in the community, or volunteer in charity shops or care homes. You play musical instruments, you babysit your grandkids, and all kinds of other amazing stuff. You guys are seriously impressive! No wonder you sometimes need to sit down with a book and just chill.
And lastly…
Q6. What are your favourite TV shows, if you watch TV?
Again, a huge range of results here: people gave general responses such as drama, crime, reality shows, documentaries, comedy etc. but we also got some very specific shows mentioned: Peaky Blinders, Line of Duty, Gogglebox, Brooklyn 99, Poirot, Family Guy, Outlander, Once Upon A Time, Bridgerton (I know why you like that!), The Bay, QI, Mock The Week (RIP – and yes I did sign the petition…), Would I Lie To You, I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, The Great British Bake Off, Strictly Come Dancing, Made In Chelsea, Any Star Trek, Star Wars, or Marvel thing, Famalam (not for those who don’t like very, VERY naughty words… but truly hilarious), Unforgotten, any football, all cricket and rugby, True Crime documentaries, and so many more…
I hope you find this as fascinating as I did. Some of the responses were so similar to my own, I feel we could easily be best buds.
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And I think we all know why Jane Austen adaptations are so popular these days…
From Idea to Publication
There are a number of components to creating a book, and I’ll admit I hadn’t realised just how much was involved when I set to write my first one. Which has still not been published, by the way, it was truly terrible. You’re welcome.
A writer begins with the germ of an idea, a creative spark, just a little something that falls into the imagination from the ether and says, ‘Hey, you know what would be a good story? This…’ It’s hard to say where inspiration comes from. It’s the first question people always ask me: ‘Where do you get your ideas?’
And it’s almost impossible to answer that, because ideas or inspiration can come from so many, many varied sources, and are often a kind of amalgamation of a number of different threads that come together seemingly from nowhere. I wrote a blog post about this a while ago. If you’d like to read it, you can follow this link:
After the germ or spark, comes the ‘mulling things over’ phase. You begin to add more and more to your idea, like the layers of an onion. You test it to see if your initial thought will work in practice. You begin to think of snatches of dialogue, or scenes or names or any number of little details that add the colour and richness to your bare bones. At this point I usually have to start making notes, a bit worried I’ll forget something – I know what I’m like!
Then comes the beginning of the writing. For me, this usually happens quite quickly – I feel very excited, I write as fast as I can in an actual paper notebook, I’m not one of those people who creates a first draft on a computer or who uses a special app. This is the honeymoon phase that I never want to end. It is joyful and fun.
BUT.
Then comes the dark night of the soul, the ‘I can’t write for toffee’ phase, imposter syndrome raises its ugly head, and I am consumed with doubts about myself, my ability and my work. At this point all I can do is to dig deep and become really stubborn and tell myself I WILL do this. I push on, writing even though I’m pretty much convinced that it’s a waste of time. I didn’t realise until just a few years ago that almost everyone feels like this about their work, whatever it is. It’s taken me many years to realise that persistence is my most valuable tool. Another thing I’ve blogged about before!
Finally my first draft is complete. I let myself and my story rest for a few weeks or several months. I take a break to enjoy doing other things, like cooking or gardening, I read loads, sometimes do a bit of editing or proofreading. I blog, of course, and dip in and out of social media. Or dare I say it – I might go out – (we are able to do that now in the UK, not sure if that will all change again, it still seems a bit naughty to go out of the house for anything other than the bare essentials).
There’s till loads to do on the book. A first draft does not a book make, and I will need to revise, edit, polish, revise, edit and polish several times over before it’s ready to be ‘properly’ edited, have a final proofread, then released on an unsuspecting world. At this stage, I need to let go of my favourites – not necessarily in a ‘kill your darlings’ kind of way, but just letting go of scenes or phrases and being honest with myself if they just don’t work.
Then my technical – or lack of – skills come into play. These were the things that provided the biggest learning curve for me as a new self-published writer some years ago. I didn’t have the money to pay someone to do all this for me, and I wasn’t with a traditional publishing house who do so much for their authors. So I had to learn how to create a reasonable book cover, (Canva, I love you so much), how to format my eBooks and paperback books, and how to make marketing materials. I had to learn what metadata was, and how to use advertising. I had to learn to negotiate the online world to publish and market my books. People were very kind and there are loads of helpful sites and books if you get stuck or don’t know how to do something, but you have to be determined to work your socks off and learn a ton of new skills, even if you are not a techy kind of person.
But finally, the big day dawns and your book – or my book, in this case – is out there is the big wide world. It’s a bit scary, doesn’t seem real, and is hard to believe you actually made it from that first little spark of an idea months or sometimes years earlier. The book writer’s journey has often been compared to pregnancy and the birth of a child. I think that’s a pretty good analogy, especially when it comes to the ‘don’t you ever come near me again’ part of the process, and the shouting, swearing and throwing things. Certainly I’m not raring to get writing another book as soon as the first one has come out. I need my recovery time of a month or two before I’m ready to start all over again.
Aww, doesn’t my new baby look cute?
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