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Sunday, 26 February 2012

Creative Writing = Creative Writhing


This week, creative writing was more like creative writhing! 

By Friday night, I had a pounding tension headache. What was the cause of such stress? My WIP! My literary agent had given me feedback that my current idea was “too small” and I needed to be more ambitious. I needed inspiration and I’m not too proud to ask for help. I went into uni for a one-to-one session with Eleanor Updale, an award winning writer and a Royal Literary Fellow. Eleanor is based at the uni one day a week on behalf of The Royal Literary Fund Fellowship scheme which places professional writers in higher education institutions to offer writing support to all students.
Eleanor Updale- the author of The Montmorency Series
My MLitt course is entirely self-funded and I plan to get my money’s worth and grab every opportunity for professional help that’s available on campus. So I made an appointment to meet with Eleanor to discuss my WIP in an effort to help me move forward. The session was great for sparking new ideas and making me take a fresh look at the entire structure and concept of my WIP. Eleanor gave me some very interesting ideas but as I headed home, I was still left with one key question, if there’s already more than enough books in the world, does anyone really need mine?


Glug, glug,glug. I poured a large vodka, I had a headache already so a hangover didn’t frighten me. I moaned at my long suffering hubby and my old pal, Pierre Smirnoff, that life would be sooo much easier if I just tried to get a ‘normal’ job and save myself (and my family and friends who have to put up with me) all the aggro?

Yes it probably would, but I’ve never been one to take the easy option (this explains a lot of my life choices, hence hubby no 2) so although I’m struggling, I’m not willing to give in (not yet anyway). And the reason I need to carry on writing is simple. I write because I have to, whether the world needs another book or not. And thankfully my hubby and Pierre still believe in me!




Sunday, 19 February 2012

Writing as Escapism


This week, I returned to uni after the ridiculously long semester break. It was great to see everyone again and I was keen to get stuck into some writing exercises. And then I got THE call…

Earlier that day, I’d dropped my hubby off at hospital as a day patient for a “routine” procedure to tackle a minor heart problem. Unfortunately, he experienced serious complications and very quickly lapsed into a critical condition. It was horrendous to watch the man you love dearly suffer extreme pain and trauma. He needed a lifesaving operation and ended the day in intensive care rather than being home in time for Masterchef.

Edinburgh Royal Infirmary- the scene of my family crisis


Later that night, when the Holby city style drama had subsided, I realised that the overnight bag I’d requested my son to pack in a hurry was lacking a few basic essentials. I’d forgotten to ask for my pjs, a change of clothes and my make-up bag (after a sleepless night, I was a scary sight). But what I had remembered to ask for was a book, paper and a pen. Were these essentials? Yes!

When everything around me was out of control, the one thing that I did have control over was words. I read for escapism and I write for escapism too. When my soul mate’s life was at risk, I needed my book and my scribbles. I didn’t need the pjs or clothes but anyone seeing me the next day would argue that I did need my make-up bag!



Once my hubby was stable, he was able to joke with me that the whole experience would make a great short story. I don’t know about that, and I would rather not have writing material based on his distressing ordeal. But what I do know is that words helped get me through some of the worst days of my life.  And I’ve written a morbid poem to prove it!

My precious hubby in healthier times

Saturday, 11 February 2012

Is Being Published the Be All and End All?



HATE musicals with a passion. And yet, I have a fond childhood memory of watching South Pacific with my gran and the catchy lyrics of the show song, ‘Happy Talk’ being forever lodged in my brain,
“You got to have a dream, if you don’t have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?” 

The message is simple and one that I apply to my writing. Ever since I started to take my writing seriously, my dream has always to be published (in the traditional sense).  There are many aspiring writers who will say that it’s not important for them to get published. Or so they say. They claim to write for the love of the art form, blah blah blah. Am I one of those writers? No. And I’m not ashamed to admit that being published is a key goal. It's not the be all and end all, but for me it still matters. Will I keep writing if I don’t get published? Yes, absolutely and for many other good reasons.  But will I give up on my publishing dream?Not on your Nelly!



I wasn't the only aspiring writer in the family sharing this dream- I had competition. My 9 year old nephew, Ryan is also a prolific writer of poems and short stories.  One of the best Christmas presents was his own reworked version of a Christmas Carol (his 7 year old brother, Frazer was the illustrator).

His current WIP is his novel, ‘The Last Dinosaur ‘and I joked that his writing would probably be published before mine.  We decided to make it a challenge. I’m a bad loser but I had to admit defeat when Ryan produced a letter saying that one of his poems is due to be published in an anthology. Is it wrong to be even a teeny weeny bit jealous? Of course it is, even for a poor loser like me, that would just be pathetic. I'm well chuffed for him but Ryan’s victory was followed by an email from my agent; one that I had feared might land in my inbox.

Ryan goading  me  with showing me the letter from his publisher!
This time last year, my literary agent was sending out my last novelto publishers. I got some really great feedback but ultimately there was nobook deal at the end of it. My agent then went on maternity leave and everything was put on hold until she returned to work at the beginning of the year. Then I got the email...

“I think at this point, very sadly, we need to draw a line under it. The business is moving fast with the rise of e-books and the continued growth of Amazon, creating less space for smaller books and generally an enforced sense of competition and that each book must stand out very robustly to the shrinking of margins and of retail display space.”


Was I gutted? Hell yeah. But the upside is that she still has faith in me and wants to see my WIP when it’s finished. In the meantime, I'm hoping Ryan will look kindly on his struggling auntie and share some of the secrets of his success. In the meantime, I need to dust myself off and keep on trying because,"You got to have a dream..."


Friday, 3 February 2012

Love Your Library






Why do I care that tomorrow is National Libraries Day?

didn't grow up in a house filled with books (I don’t think the Littlewoods catalogue counts). But I did grow up with my mum taking me and my sister to the local library. The weekly pilgrimage was the only way we could afford to satisfy our appetite for books. I can still remember being transported from my terraced Council house to the seaside boarding school from the Malory Tower series. And I spent hours copying pictures from reference books to create my handmade (does this count as self-publishing?) non-fiction book, ‘Fashion through the Ages’ (my love of books and clothes has never faded). From picture books right through to reference books for my teaching degree, the library was a big part of my life.

When I was a student the first time around, I had a Saturday job as a Librarian’s assistant in the neighbouring town of Denny.


This photo of the shopping precinct, including the library, helps explain why Denny was nominated for a 'Plook on the Plinth' award for being the most dismal town in Scotland.

Being on the other side of the Returns desk was an eye-opener. The staff were regularly abused by local neds, used as a free crèche and often we had to reach for the antibacterial spray and a cloth when some of our dodgy  interesting characters returned books (you really don’t want to know why!)

But most folk appreciated how important the library was to their local community and respected the staff. A library isn’t just about books. My village library is very small but there’s music, DVDs and a wireless computer network. It has a Book Group, Toddlerhyme and plays host to the local history group as well as being a venue for mini exhibitions and gatherings.



In the digital age some might argue that libraries are now redundant when information is available at the click of a mouse from the comfort of your own home. But not everyone has internet access or a place to read quietly, especially in deprived areas. I’ve always felt strongly that libraries should also be open on a Sunday when families have more time to visit, students need a place to work and the community can meet for social events.





Libraries are not just the heartbeat of a community; they are a political statement to demonstrate a nation’s commitment to free information for all, regardless of your postcode. It’s so sad that library opening hours are being cut and some libraries are even being threatened with closure.  I’m fortunate enough to be able to buy most of the fiction books I read but I still visit my library most weeks, whether it’s to borrow a travel guide, hear a visiting writer or pick up a copy of the magazine Booktime. I also pop in to get free doggy poo bags that are handed out so I won’t have anyone say libraries deliver a crap service (excuse the pun) when there’s something for everyone, even my dogs.
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Forget Valentine’s Day, love your library while you still have one!