Tuesday, 23 April 2013

A busy month!

I see I last posted on 8th March - goodness. A lot has happened since then:

From 7th to 17th  March I was at Anam Cara, my  (I wish it was 'my - I mean it's where I go...) wonderful retreat in West Cork, Ireland, where I managed to push the word count of the next novel to 92000 wds. No - it's not 'nearly there' as my husband brightly suggested... but it is going in the right direction.


Then there were a couple of visits to some more rather wonderful places - slightly different -and  for different reasons:
18th March, the Mayor's Parlour in Brighton, where a fab tea was served, and I met the Mayor's chauffeur. Good guy - he explained all about the mace - a vast thing which has to be carried upside down if the Queen visits.
19th March, another tea, this time at the House of Lords. This was a fundraising/profile-raising event for the Post Adoption Centre (PAC), a charity that is both wonderful and close to my heart. The tea was punctuated by bells calling the great and the good from their cream scones, to vote.

Then, some food for the soul - an evening with wonderful poet Sasha Dugdale, thanks to The Lewes Monday Literary Club. Sasha read from her moving and wonderful Bloodaxe published translation of the Russian poet Elena Shvartz. She also read from her own collection The Red Book, and from some new work. I now have The Red Book, a new favourite  on my poetry shelf...
Sasha Dugdale, who read from her translation of Russian poet Elena Shvartz
Sticking with poetry - I am tweaking the manuscript for The Half Life of Fathers, which ought to be out in September, ready for the Glad Lit Fest ... see below.

I've been blogger in residence for the Bridport Prize website for three months and have enjoyed that enormously.I'll do another post linking to all the articles and discussions in due course.

Some Coward's Tale news - it seems a long while since the novel came out, and it is still giving me surprises. It has been absolutely wonderful to receive letters and emails for readers who have loved it. Give me love and/or hate over 'It's OK' any day! And thanks to all who give up a few precious hours to read my work.
It was particularly lovely to hear from a US reading group who had been meeting for years. The Coward's tale was voted one of their all time favourites, and they took the trouble to send me a picture, with Welsh flag, singing map, and all. That makes all this worth while!

The Coward’s Tale was longlisted for The Waverton Good Read Award http://www.wavertongoodread.org.uk/longlist-2012.html I was really delighted - didn't know about this award, which is purely reader-led. Good stuff. So here's the info on the award. http://www.wavertongoodread.org.uk/story.html

Recommended in the St Albert Gazette, in Canada http://m.stalbertgazette.com/article/20130227/SAG0308/302279965


Recommended for Spring and Mum’s day gifts on  the Australian website Books and Music: - http://www.bookandmusic.com.au/images/catalogues/April_13.pdf

Other stuff:

In September, when I'm writer in residence at Gladstone's Library, they have decided to have a literary festival! I am absolutely pixillated and hope to reassemble myself in time to appear alongside luminaries such as Damian Barr, Wendy Cope, Stella Duffy and Sarah Perry.





Short Circuit, Guide to the Art of the Short Story - is to become even bigger and better - with the inclusion of new chapters - either penned by or interviews with the following: Scott Pack, Tom Vowler, Professor Patty McNair, Stuart Evers. And more... It’s due out in August... watch this space! 
The gorgeous new Short Circuit cover...

 On 19th April, last Friday (phew, nearly there...) I read at the event flagged in the last post here - at The Word Factory,  in Sutton House, Hackney, in the excellent company of  poet Katy Evans-Bush, writer Tom Lee and singer/song collector Sam Lee. The best moment - when Sam responded to Silver Leaves for Judah Jones (an early version of part of TCT) by singing an impromptu, very beautiful song. 
Reading in the Elizabethan Chamber, Sutton House

I taught on Saturday 20th April for London's Spread the Word, at Toynbee Hall.  The day was on refreshing your writing, returning to when it was just fun, exciting stuff. Much enjoyed by the tutor, who shared some favourite writing games and exercises...

Finally - here's a brilliant article sure to get your blood either fizzing with recognition or boiling with indignation!   Dont let me know which, just enjoy. Or not. http://www.salon.com/2013/03/29/most_contemporary_literary_fiction_is_terrible/

I think that's enough...
Happy writings!


Friday, 8 March 2013

Reading in Hackney for The Word Factory - 19th April



The Word Factory #9
Keeping The Flame Alive: Song & Story In Hackney








Let us seduce you with storytelling and song from award-winning performers and writers in the stunning Elizabethan chamber of the National Trust’s hidden Hackney gem, Sutton House.

Friday, 19th April
7-9pm at: Sutton House
2 and 4 Homerton High Street,
Hackney, London E9 6JQ
Telephone: 020 8986 2264
suttonhouse@nationaltrust.org.uk
£10 on the door


pastedGraphic.pdf
Katy Evans-Bush

Sam Lee

Tom Lee


Sam Lee
Mercury Prize nominated folk singer and song collector Sam’s debut album, Ground Of Its Own, comprised of songs learned from the Gypsy Traveller community, haunting tales from history and the heart. His band, Sam Lee & Friends, perform unconventional and contemporary interpretations that challenge our preconceptions of what folk music should sound like.
Katy Evans-Bush
Hackney resident Katy is an accomplished poet, critic, teacher and superlative blogger. Don’t miss her award-winning web site Baroque In Hackney. She will be reading from her superb Rack Press pamphlet, Henry & Oscar, in which a delicious and moving encounter between Henry James and Oscar Wilde is imagined.
Vanessa Gebbie
Vanessa is a Welsh writer living in England. Her debut novel The Coward's Tale, an exploration of the importance of story in a troubled community, was a Financial Times Novel of the Year, and a Guardian Readers' Book of the Year. She is author of two short fiction collections, Words from a Glass Bubble and Storm Warning, and her first poetry publication, The Half-life of Fathers, is published later this year.
Tom Lee
Tom’s stories have been published in the Sunday Times Magazine, Prospect and Esquire, broadcast on Radio 4, and two are being adapted for film. His debut collection, Greenfly, was published in 2009 and he’s currently working on his second collection and writing a memoir about being in intensive care in King’s College Hospital, South London. As far as we can tell, he is not related to Sam.

Monday, 4 March 2013

Salena Godden and Springfield Road!




Salena - "In Godden we Trust..."

Salena's mother - the official pin-up for Springfield Road
One specialest of special guests today - Welcome Salena Godden! Multi-talented, great fun, generous and a fab writer to boot, her memoir Springfield Road is at Unbound right now! I am so indebted to Salena, who read The Coward's Tale and gave me the most wonderful quote for the cover...and it is terrific to be able to do a little summat for her in return. 
I was lucky enough to read Springfield Road a while ago, and loved it. I  heard Springfield Road on BBC Radio 4 and loved it again. It is moving, honest, absolutely engaging, and beautifully written. Do visit Unbound, and see how you might be able to help it into book form... and remember, every little counts!
But before you disappear, enjoy a natter with the writer, here... 


Hi Salena - welcome to the blog. Now, first of all,  tell everyone a bit about Springfield Road.

Springfield Road is a childhood memoir. Its the story of the house on Springfield Road in Hastings, the people that lived there and the stories they left behind. More so its the story of how my parents met - My father was a jazz musician and my mother a Go-go dancer. This is also very much the story of the journey of writing this book too. Its a poetic and universal story, peppered with daydreams, a child’s view, told from the ants in the cracks in the pavement to the faces in the clouds. 
       These are memories of attempting to understand the beauty, the brutality and the contradictions of the adult world.
       This book has been compared to Laurie Lee ‘Cider With Rosie’ and Angela Ashworth ‘Once In A House On Fire’ People have also mentioned ‘White Teeth’ Zadie Smith and ‘Running With Scissors’ by Augusten Burroughs. I suppose elements of this book may be as summer soft and Brit nostalgic as say ‘Cider With Rosie’ but its certainly as gritty and raw as Shane Meadows ‘This Is England’ during some chapters too.


Maggie Gee was so helpful to me, and I know she helped you too - and we both teach and facilitate in our turn - I like that circular movement - is that a deliberate vision for you of how the writing world works best? 

I'm so grateful to Maggie Gee - I cannot thank her enough for her encouragement and support. Maggie helped me very much with the new unseen chapters, the journey of ‘writing the book’ chapters, written in the now.
       I believe writing memoir is like painting a movable feast, a moving object, the subject matter alters and changes as new news comes through. Its very much a living breathing and changeable weather, as people die and people are born, the shape of the nostalgic landscape you are writing about also changes, history warps with time and sentimentality.
      I don't think I have a deliberate vision for how the writing world works - I do have meticulous lists, I even have lists that refer to other lists. I make a point to never forget kindness.
I think its important that writers help each other, show support and share good news. There is plenty of pie for everyone, I think its beautiful to keep passing the ball and to keep the ball in the air, keep passing the conch shell as it were, to share our stories, to listen and learn.



How did you find the time to write with all the other things you do?!

When I wrote the bulk of 'Springfield Road I’d quit everything and everyone. I locked myself away in solitary confinement and pretty much wrote from 4am to 4pm each day. I have a great determination and when I want to do something I will do it. I was monk-like, strict and hard on myself. I went to bed at 9pm and rose at 4am to work at it, to edit and write it all over, again and again. I felt I had a job to do and I wanted to do it well. These are not make-believe characters, this is my family and I love them. Put it like this - I have to have Christmas dinner with these people, I wouldn't hear the last of it if I got anyone or anything wrong. 
       But the greatest moment, illumination, was when I spent a month at a writers retreat, alone up a mountain in Andalusia re-writing this version of the book and it was then I came to the realisation there is no wrong or right way to write it, that we all edit our memories and select what we'll forget of something and exactly how we'll remember something else. 
       I've always lived as though there is not much time, as though we are running out of time, I'm sure you'll agree the most frustrating thing for a writer is the waiting, waiting for people to catch up, waiting for feedback, waiting, waiting. So I counteracted this by keeping very busy. While I wait I write other things – I aim to have something bubbling on the hob ready to serve, something in the freezer for later, something new brewing, marinating, something in the oven, something in the shop window to sell and something to giveaway for free. Put it this way, i have novels and plays that have never seen the light of day. And if you looked in my kitchen cupboards you'd find them stacked with folders and notebooks of unpublished poems and ready-to-read short story collections where normal people keep food and crockery. Finding time to write and making new work has never been a problem. The hardest work is waiting for ‘my turn’ and being patient that’s all.

4. So far you have masses of people queuing up to help a little with the publication process...Tell us about  Unbound and how you came to choose them - and whether there are plans for the book once published - will you take it on tour?
Salena's mother...

I met John Mitchinson and Rachael Kerr at Voewood festival a few years ago. I think the Unbound model could be the future of publishing. Unbound enables writers, it gives them more say and power.
       The other day I said to my friend that "writing a book without a publishing deal can be a bit like walking into a pub, yeah, mopping the pub floor, clearing the dirty glasses and wiping the tables without being asked. But then wondering why you haven't been paid. You'll get popular in that pub, but you wonder why you did that? And where you got the bucket? Ha ha and why you have to mop it all up in the first place." With Unbound I suppose you have the whole pub knowing why you are there and cheering you along...um...as you mop the pub floor.
       Yes, planning parties, events, tours and festivals. I've been working on audio and radio ideas too - But I'm trying to be patient and take one step at a time.
       Unbound is a bit like Roman times. My book is a gladiator. "I am Spartacus" is now "I am Springfield." The book is at the mercy of the generosity of the braying crowds. Thumbs up....or thumbs down and this work is thrown to the lions. 

Seriously though Unbound is all about readers pledging for the books they'd like to read and being able to watch the book they back and support grow and blossom - for the author its both nerve wracking and exciting.


In an email a while back, you mentioned the sad death of your grandmother, and how you felt that you could not properly start or end Springfield Road before that - does she still open and close the book? 

In a way yes. 
       My grandmother looked after me when I was young so that my mother could work. Our dad was off and away and so as a single-parent my Mum found a job stacking shelves in the local supermarket. There is something of Alan Silitoe about that particular era and my trying to capture those early days.
       When my grandmother passed away (about two years ago) it was her wish that we take her home to Jamaica, to Colonels Ridge, Clarendon to lay her to rest with her kin. It was quite a trip, and quite a sight to behold, the old family house and garden with my elders graves.
       I hadn't been to Jamaica before and so I always had an “imagined belonging” to that side of my family, to my Jamaican heritage and roots. My childhood would have been very different if I had gone to paddle in the warm turquoise ocean at Montego Bay for Easter holidays instead of shivering in the cold, sage-green sea and stony beaches of Hastings, East Sussex. 

"Excerpt // "We stood amongst the tombs of our great-grandparents and my great aunts and uncles, beside a house that could not have possibly housed them all. It was derelict and I could see though a jagged window into the kitchen where my great grandmother would have cooked. There was a broken old stove there still. Now the black and white drawings my grandmother had described to me as a girl were technicoloured, suddenly in 3D, moving around me, a living, walking and talking picture. Vivid blue and violet, the world was humming in a hundred shades of life and lush green."

What is it about our grandmothers? (I’m now one myself, so the question is pertinent... I need to know how to be!) It was memories of my own  grandmother in Wales that fed right through The Coward's Tale - it wouldn't exist without my memories of her. Why are they so important to some?

I had three grandmothers. Its a little too complicated to write it all out here but the bottom line is there were three grandmothers.
       There is this great importance of grandmothers – I wonder is it because we are female, and there is a invisible thread from the elder to the younger female in the blood line.
    I am fascinated by the 'third' grandmother nobody knew - a fifteen year old Irish girl that disappeared….and I have started working on a history of her..

I had four - but we'll leave it at that! What are you working on now, writingwise?


I’ve been writing and producing tracks I call "sound gardens" or "radio pictures" My first one, my debut 'If The Heart Is A Bell' was a 12minute remix of a poem I wrote for my friends funeral. I submitted it to be presented at The Londonewcastle Project Space on Redchurch Street in January and then it went to Paris on Valentines night as part of the Trolleyology Exhibition. Its a tribute to my friend Gigi who passed away on Christmas Eve. Its a combination of the poetry, recorded live music, guitars, radio, narrative, borrowed samples and loops and a decade of Trolley Books visuals…
       Book wise I'm editing the new novel – This winter I got obsessed by the life and work of Jean Rhys and those early novels of 1930's Paris. My new novel has a voice that now reminds me of the precarious fragility and destructive hedonism of a young Jean - it is fiction though!  
       Away from that I am busy with the polishing of my BBC work, pitching radio ideas and working on scripts. Plus editing poems ready for the summer chaos and festivals - feels like 2013 is gonna be one helluva summer! See you there!


Salena - huge huge good fortune to you, and to Springfield Road... and now peeps, get over there and contribute.  Good karma - it will come back in the end. Always does... Here is the link -  Springfield at Unbound - it's veeery easy! 

Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Happy dance for Sarah Hilary! A lesson in not giving up, and a little about itchy wrists...

Happy Dance!

Sarah Hilary


I'm delighted to welcome Sarah Hilary to the blog today, and I can't help doing a happy-dance at the same time...
      If you have ever had your writing rejected, and thought it's no good, I'll just give up now - please read on. Sarah is an object lesson in how things CAN come right if you DON'T GIVE UP! 

Let's start with an announcement on a book-trade information website... Headline Acquires Two Novels from Sarah...  and it's lovely, wonderful, woo hooishly great. But behind the woo hoos is another story, and it's that one  Sarah and I would like to share with you. These books are not her first, and second, second and third, or even third and fourth..

Anyhoo - it was 2008 and I was off to Bantry to the West Cork Literary Festival which always includes the Fish Prize awards event.  I knew Sarah, but only on the internet - and I knew she needed to go too, as she'd won one of the Fish competitions that year - The Criminally Short Histories prize. So I offered her a lift from Cork Airport. We nattered like old mates... and now, five years later, I think we probably are old mates. (Well, I'm the 'old' one, she is the younger, tenacious one...) And here we are, five years later, still nattering...


Hi Sarah! I shall stop the happy dance for a few mins now. 
          I remember listening to the plot of the novel you were working on some years back, in the car on our way to Bantry. I remember wanting to stop the car to be able to concentrate properly, to find out who, then why, then what happens, and how...it was just a brilliant story. I sat with you at some event in Bantry Library, right next to the Crime section, and said, ‘You’ll  soon have a whole shelf...’ and you laughed. 
       Well, five years later, you can laugh for a different reason, with delight, hopefully. But. It has not been an easy ride from 2008 to here, has it. It’s been a rocky road - and I’ve followed your fortunes with bated breath! Can you describe your journey to this point, with regard to the crime novels? Chart the ups and downs, if you like...

Sarah: I remember that road trip vividly. Your interest in the story, and your conviction that I could make it into print, spurred me to Try Harder. My motto for the years between then and now has been (and still is!) Must Try Harder. It’s been a heck of a journey - more twists and turns than the road to Bantry - and I’m a little breathless to have got this far. I think the story I described to you was the second or possibly the third manuscript I’d submitted to Jane Gregory, who’s now my agent. She didn’t sign me until the fourth manuscript - and it’s my fifth and sixth books that she’s just sold to Headline - so it’s just as well I decided early on that I was in this for the long haul. 

The ‘downs’ were each time I heard, “Not this book, maybe the next,” but I was lucky enough to be told, each time, what I could do to improve my writing, plotting and so on. Of course it’s incredibly hard to see any silver lining when you’re right under the cloud of rejection, but the only thing to do is to keep moving forward, and keep believing that what you write next will be better, because it will be. That’s the great thing about writing - you really do get better at it. 


(VG: I liked those quotes - so they're in red. And here is the cloud of rejection covering the light of good things...)
The ‘highs’ were each small milestone – winning a short story contest, getting into a print anthology – and seeing fellow writers break through, or sharing the struggle with writing buddies. I must mention the fabulous Ms Anna Britten, whose sympathy, sage advice and support has kept me going over the last two years. It was during one of my lowest spells that Anna and I settled on the need for defiance as a strategy for fighting on. Not arrogance, but a determination to defy the odds, and the urge to give up. I created one of the characters in SOMEONE ELSE’S SKIN in a moment of defiance, and he’s a character my editor loves.

VG: *Waves to Anna Britten* - isn't sharing this thing we do so important, on so many levels? I am so glad to hear that. We all need  supporters...
And here is a pic of one of your top supporters, your daughter Milly, stealing your thunder when you won the Cheshire Prize for Literature! 

 You are just an incarnation of the advice I was given, myself, and which, when I’m asked to give a newbie writer advice,  is the first thing that comes to mind. ‘Don’t give up’. You are the best possible example of the wonderful things that can happen if you don’t give up.  But it ain't easy, is it? What did it feel like to keep going? What was it that made you sure that you would succeed in the end? Or were there times you lost faith and had to pick yourself up again?

Sarah: Crikey, how did it feel to keep going..? This is where therapists will read and weep – that they didn’t make money from my teeth-gnashing and hair-pulling. There were days when I lay on the floor and wept. Days when I was furious with myself for falling short (again), and when I told myself that surely if I had any real talent, it shouldn’t be this hard to get published. I don’t think I was ever sure that I would succeed in the end. At the outset, of course, I had a writer’s ego; I submitted my first film script when I was 15, to a company listed in the Writers and Artists Yearbook (the possessing of which was enough to convince me I woz a Writer). Towards the end, I had virtually no ego (a good thing, on the whole) and was armed only with defiance, being a rarefied version of the bloodymindedness I was born with. My paternal grandmother was fond of telling people, ‘You’ll never get Sarah to do anything she doesn’t want to do,’ which is another way of saying I can’t be talked out of something I’ve set my mind to. 

Most helpfully of all, by this stage, writing is like a tic or a reflex; I can’t not do it. So here I am. Oh and I keep getting ideas for better books! I’m always excited by The Next Book, chiefly because I know it will be my best yet; it’s a fresh chance to do a better job at the thing I love doing. Who wouldn’t want that?
Just one of the many anthologies your work can be found in...

 VG: Yee ha! So - say you have to pick yourself up from a big disappointment. How do/did you do that? What advice can you give to a newer writer who is facing the wall?

Sarah: I suspect I’ve given the answer to this already in my ramblings above. It’s about knowing that what you write next will be better - and therefore the odds of it being published will be improved. I know that what you’re writing Right Now might feel like the best thing you’ve ever written, and so it should. I know you’ll feel proud and protective of your story and especially your characters, and that’s okay. It’s allowed. What’s not allowed is letting that pride and protectiveness stop you in your tracks. 

Always have a Next Book bubbling under, even if it’s just a handful of notes in a pad somewhere. I like to keep a notebook that I flip over so the back pages are like a separate pad (I put different stickers or doodles on the covers of each side to make it look like two pads) and those back pages are my Next Book. This means a) not all my eggs are in one basket, and b) with luck I’ll be hooked on writing the Next Book by the time my current one is being read by agents or editors. It really does soften the blow if the first one doesn’t make it. Just the fact that you’ve stopped thinking about it and given headspace to a new story and new characters - makes the rejection easier to bear.
and another anthology - is the shelf full yet?!

VG: Brilliant. Your sage words are emblazoned in RED! And so - on to the books... Tell me about the novel that broke through for you... how long had you been working on this one? Did you have any professional advice to help you shape it?
Sarah: It took me about a year to write SOMEONE ELSE’S SKIN, although the idea had been playing in my head for longer. It’s a story about secrets, and survival. The secrets that put us in danger and the ones that keep us safe. It’s about who we pretend to be in order to survive or simply to get by, and who we really are, under the skin. The blurb reads like this:
No two victims are alike.  
DI Marnie Rome knows this better than most. Five years ago, her family home was a shocking and bloody crimescene. Now, she’s tackling a case of domestic violence, and a different brand of victim. Hope Proctor stabbed her husband in desperate self-defence. A crowd of witnesses saw it happen. But as the violence spirals, engulfing the residents of the women’s shelter, Marnie finds herself drawn into familiar territory. A place where the past casts long shadows and she must tread carefully to survive.

I hope it’s a novel that upsets the traditional ideas about domestic violence – and makes us look afresh at why people commit crimes of this kind, and how society chooses to punish these crimes. I’m also fascinated by the psychology of seeing, the emotional lens that colours everything we witness, and by the role of the witness. This role is vital to solving and prosecuting crimes, but what does it mean to be the witness to a brutal crime – how does it change that person? Is there a sense in which they become responsible for the “truth” of what they saw? 
       Marnie, my heroine, is someone who trusts her intellect first and her emotions second. She’s always questioning the truth of what she sees, and she’s someone who wants to make sense of the world as it is. Of course she’d like to change it, but she understands that mess is part of the human condition. She has a huge capacity for compassion, which I think’s essential for the hero/heroine of any crime novel. I wanted to write a detective who was much more than ‘a woman in a man’s world’. Marnie has a woman’s empathy and intuition, and the intelligence and honesty to know these gifts sometimes lead her astray. 

My first draft got quite a tough reader’s report via my agent, and I realised I’d have to change something to make it work on the level I intended (well, more than work – it had to shine). After that, I spent a couple of months despairing quietly and bending my brain around What To Do. Then a further three months rewriting. The two months where I didn’t write because I was thinking - they really helped. I think if I’d sat down and tried to rewrite straightaway, I’d have made the same mistakes all over again. As it was, I produced a second draft that my agent loved – and so did more than one publisher. It went to auction, which was very exciting, and it’s sold in five other countries already. I’m thrilled to think the story will have so many readers.

 VG: Fantastic stuff - this is the dream, isn't it?  And thank you for your honesty here - I am so fed up with writers who tell others that it was easy, they woke up one day and... because even if that did happen for one writer, for the other 99% it ain't like that! It's a hard old slog. 

      Next question: When do you think it is OK to accept advice, and when to ignore it?

Sarah: That’s a tough one. Tempting to say you should never ignore advice, but since I was once advised to give up writing (by a boss who likened it to his DIY: “We’re neither of us very good at it, but it keeps us out of trouble”) I think I’ll say instead that you need to develop an ear for advice, like an ear for music. I say this as someone who is virtually tone-deaf but who can generally tell when a piece of music is off, even if I can’t tell you why or by how much. 

You might think it’s a good rule of thumb that if advice comes from an expert you must act on it, but this doesn’t quite meet the case, I think. After all, the expert might not be in tune with your genre or your writing. So much is subjective in publishing. SOMEONE ELSE’S SKIN went to auction, as I say, but for every two publishers who loved it there were four who didn’t, or not enough to offer for it. ‘All it takes is one’, as the adage goes, and you should certainly never give up – or make radical changes – based on what appears to be a loose consensus. Unless or until your gut (or your ear) tells you that what you’re hearing is the truth. 

I honestly think this is something that only comes with time and experience. I spent years railing against rejections from editors who’d missed-the-point of my writing (show me a writer who hasn’t done this at some point in their lives and I’ll show you a saint, or a fibber). Then I spent a good number of years performing literary gymnastics as I tried to meet the demands of every editor all at once, believing they must know best, or better. 

Now, if an editor is saying something invaluable – something I ignore at my peril – I can hear it. It chimes. 

When my editor at Headline told me I needed to do a bit of work on the penultimate chapter in SOMEONE ELSE’S SKIN, I knew she was right. My wrists itched; it’s a physical response – and I think it only comes with long experience. I wish there was a shortcut, I really do. Maybe one of your readers, V, will know a trick for this?!


VG: I love that!  Are there any short cuts worth thinking about when it comes to making a manuscript better? Nah, I don't think so...but as ever, am happy to be proved wrong. So have at it!


Thanks Sarah - I know how busy you are with all the hoo ha - enjoy every step. It is so richly deserved. One more happy dance...la la la...ooops that was my bad leg...

vx

Thursday, 21 February 2013

Nigel Jarrett, 'Funderland', the short story in Wales, fault-lines, schisms, and the knotty topic of hypergamous and hypogamous speech.




Nigel Jarrett


A while back, I promised here to turn the blog over to an interview with Welsh writer Nigel Jarrett, sparked by talk in Facebook's Welsh Short Story Group of Funderland, his short story collection, published by Parthian Books.  Funderland has had some wonderful reviews in the press,  (see here, again)  and I was intrigued to read.  Now I have - it is a very strong collection indeed - not a single weak link in the book - and I am very pleased to be able to natter to its author here.

Or maybe, on reflection, not ‘natter’. I don’t think Nigel Jarrett does ‘nattering’  much -  you will see what I mean, as we dive into an email question and answer exchange, me with the simple aim of spreading the word about a good book. 

VG: Tell me about the title story, and why you chose the title of that piece for the whole collection. Am I anywhere near if I take a stab and say it has something to do with the recurrence of a sense of your characters being so often 'on the edge'? And yet...

NJ: 'Funderland' is just unbidden neologism. When I was writing the story, one of the last before I put the collection together, the word wafted on to my desk like a soap bubble when no-one that you are aware of in the house is blowing them. It seemed appropriate and it sounded like something that might make a title for the book. As a Johnsonian and a journalist I would prefer to write only material I'm being paid for, however pathetically, so I'm always looking at the commercial side of things. Only later did I learn that several fairgrounds in Ireland were called 'Funderland'. I've been waiting for the writ to be served.  That's what I like about short fiction. What happened before you started reading and what's going to happen after the story's finished are part of the dynamic for a reader. So, yes - on the edge.  



VG: 'Funderland' seems to set up an expectation of something cynical (at least, it does for this reader). Life is anything but 'fun', as you explore the fault-lines that open up in relationships, destabilising them. Do you set out to knock your characters off balance, or does it just happen that way? 

NJ: There's no cynicism, though I'm a very cynical person. In relation to the book's title and its contents, I'd prefer the word 'irony'. There's not much fun to be had in my stories and there's certainly none in falling to your death from a water-chute or being abused by your new stepfather. I think 'fault lines' is a good description. But I'm not vindictive towards my characters: I don't deliberately open up schisms. They are just people with whom I sympathise. It's pretty clear to me that in every family there's some kind of difficulty, even tragedy. The idea of a family as the perfect unit of a civilised society seems under-rated but I've never tried any other sort of existence, like making my way alone up the Amazon or across some blood-deluged African republic and writing about it - the Bruce Chatwin thing. Yet I'm a bit of a loner as well as a happily-married family man. There's a recipe for disaster for you. Not in my case, though I've had my moments. Perhaps I've read too much Ivy Compton-Burnett.  I don't knock my characters off balance; I feel sorry for people who have been or are about to be thumped sideways.



VG: Can you talk a little about the unusual role music plays in 'Unfinished Symphony' and in 'Grasmere'? Far from being comforting/stimulating in Unfinished Symphony it seems to underpin a character's failings, perhaps. And in Grasmere, music goes hand in hand with yearning, or loss/displacement... so,

NJ: For many years at the South Wales Argus newspaper I shadowed the distinguished music critic Kenneth Loveland. When he retired I took over from him. Since turning freelance I've also begun reviewing and writing for Jazz Journal. Without music in my life I'd go mental. I learned from Ken that musical knowledge is nothing to do with musical 'appreciation', something we both detested. Musical knowledge is what gives rise to fears for one's sanity if one were to be deprived of music. Neither Ken nor I were musicians in the accepted sense.  'Unfinished Symphony' partly reflects learning music as a middle-class youngster, which was what I once was - well, lower middle-class. I began learning to play the piano very late and I had to give it up before I'd made much progress. That story is also about the way music suggests the eternal.  The coastal setting was deliberate. As I get older, music is having an even more profound affect on me. I now like compositions that I once found difficult or beyond my wavelength. I'm getting closer to where music is coming from though I'm not religious in the denominational sense. But 'Unfinished Symphony' is mostly the world seen through a child's eyes. I'm sure that for him, later in life, music will be the same as it is for me. Music is elusive, not to be pinned down in the way attempted by the narrator's father.
        The connotations of incest in 'Grasmere' are greater than its musical element. It seems to me that the different abilities of children in a family are difficult to reconcile, divisive even. (I've written a story about this called Mutual Friend, recently published in Prole magazine. Two siblings, one a 'worker' the other an academic, are unconsciously switching roles late in life and dealing in their different ways with the amnesia of their father.) 'Grasmere' ia about a lot of things I don't really understand. I've stayed in the place a lot. The incest thing and the idea of a waning prodigy perhaps suggests the Wordsworths. Who knows? Writers don't know. I enjoyed writing about the wild ducks on the lake.
       I'd give up everything, even writing, to be able to play the piano well and professionally. My idea of a musical hero is a jazz pianist who can sit down at a piano and launch into Love for Sale without knowing how it's going to turn out. The old tunes are the best. I'd even put up with deprivations.


VG: The Guardian said this among other things, " ..as a music critic by profession, Jarrett has a marvellous ear. A shepherd's whistle is analysed as "B flat, then a glissando to the double octave, capped by a staccato triplet on D sharp." If you were to set the story 'Unfinished Symphony' to music, would you use the eponymous piece? If not, why not? And if another, 'Grasmere', was to be a short film, what music would accompany that one?

NJ: Oh dear!  Definitely not the Schubert piece because its title simply suggested that the child was at an important stage of his life, but only a stage. If the story were dramatised I might choose music by the Welsh composer Grace Williams, who was inspired by the South Glamorgan coast; she might even be the fictitious Alice Westerway in the story.  Either that, or a piece by Ken Colyer's Jazzmen, to set up resonances and reflect the boy's jazz-loving sister and her feckless swain. For 'Grasmere', a sad piece, it would have to be Chopin's Prelude No 4 in E minor, played by Alfred Cortot!


VG: I loved the story 'Mrs Kuroda on Penyfan', particularly, although it is hard to pick ones I like out of a strong collection I enjoyed so much. Congratulations on the prize it won. I can quite see why. Can you say something about this story and its inspiration? And also, if you could choose one scene from this story to be painted, which scene would it be, and who would you choose to paint it. (alive or dead...!). 

NJ: 'Mrs Kuroda' won the Rhys Davies Award for short fiction. Entries had to reflect an aspect of contemporary Wales - drug addiction in the Valleys, that sort of thing. I decided to write about foreign investment, particularly from the Far East. I'm always interested in the particulars that segue to generalisation.  Mrs Kuroda is a Japanese company boss's lonely wife but also a woman with the feelings of any woman anywhere, especially one in a subservient relationship.  The cultural aspect of that seemed to fall nicely for me, as did the suicide at the end, if it was suicide. One writer praising the story referred to the 'shocking' kick in the tail, which only registered on second reading. I still don't know what he meant. Ever self-critical, I sometimes regret the 'suicide' angle at the end. In a story about nostalgia for Japan, this can seem trite or contrived. Ditto the reference to the women attending a performance of Puccini's Madama Butterfly in Cardiff! At least it was all feasible.
The most pictorial scene depicts the Japanese wives flitting across the yard of a Valleys leisure centre in their kimonos. That might have interested Josef Herman, the Polish artist who lived in Ystradgynlais and immortalised its coalminers. 
Josef Herman

'In the Pitt' 1952 Image from Aberystwyth University website 


As someone who can draw and paint after a fashion, I'm as much interested in visual art as in music. I do see a lot of stories in terms of pictures. I also love the questions visual art throws up. There's a linguistic element to it. If a pile of bricks is not 'art', just find an alternative word for what it is. Only a fool would try to hoax the public in this way, and only a foolish brigade - the righteously indignant tabloid Press - would think there was an issue. What right do the red tops have to be indignant? 


VG:  You mention Arthur Smith and Cambrensis in the acknowledgements - what an inspiration that man was. I am very proud of my copies - the photocopying and cutting n pasting, done with such love! Bless the man. Who is carrying the baton for the short story in Wales these days? 

NJ: Funny you should ask. At the time of writing, the website of the New Welsh Review says the magazine is currently closed to fiction submissions. Planet has published my work, including a story. The Blue Tattoo also publishes stories. After that, the search for a Welsh outlet becomes desperate. As with poetry, there seem to be more people writing stories than reading them. No-one I know reads stories. What is about the the short fiction lobby? Is it stuffed with the opinions of teachers in those dreadful Creative Writing classes, whose livelihoods are at stake?  One does get paranoid about these things. The future is probably with websites or with print magazines that boast an online presence. I worry about this, too, because I see work of merit being buried in the midden that is the Internet. I mean, how will anyone know that your work actually exists? And who will distinguish it from the mountains of crud? And how will you know that anyone is trying to distinguish it from the rest anyway? Far from being a democratic haven, the www is likely to become an undifferentiated dump, where the good will swim unrecognised beside the gorblimey. It's already happening. 
       My theory is that the internet will eventually become mainly a marketplace, which is what it's already very good at, rather than a viable alternative to print culture. 
       Who's carrying the baton for the story in Wales? No-one. Three websites have recently accepted work from me. I don't know whether to leap about or cry into a Kleenex. I know one thing: Funderland is here in my hand with all its faults and finery. Barring flood and fire, I'll be able to pass it on.


Would you say that you're successful? How do you measure success?

NJ: I always tell people who are impressed by Funderland and any of my other published work that every month I receive rejections from magazines, newspapers, websites - you name it, they've ditched me. It used to put me off; now, I don't care and send the rejected work somewhere else. I also get acceptances but far fewer than the brush-offs. One wag famously sent already-published books, one of them a collection of Alan Sillitoe stories, to book publishers whose rejections were comic when they were not sad. It's only one person's opinion. If the same piece is rejected thirty times, of course, you might consider looking at it again.  Otherwise, keep churning it out. It's a mug's game, as there's no money in it - not unless you can write a bestseller. But I'm lucky: as a newspaper journalist I've been published and read every day. You never tire of that. I believe in what I'm doing and that's the only measure there is.  Parthian have agreed to publish my first poetry collection, Miners At The Quarry Pool. We press on, hands to the wheel, which nevertheless and often feels Inquisitional. (PS: I did once write a satirical critique of a magazine that once pompously returned my work. I offered the editor my professional services in improving his publication at a cost of £160 and therafter for each published issue £99.99. He didn't get back.)



VG: Some of your lines are so quotable - saying a lot in few words. Eg: "the... evasive way we diminish madness by calling it eccentricity" "the difference between love and the memory of love" and there are many more in that story - 'Nomad' - which seems to hold a particular resonance. Can you talk about that one?

NJ: I don't try to write quotable lines. I do try to write concisely, actually an effort after doing it hour after hour, week in week out, as a reporter and sub-editor. I crave Jamesian extension and have to suppress it. Turns of phrase do pop up as part of the exercise of avoiding cliché. It seems so right in a short story, where everything is suggesting things bigger than itself. I hadn't noticed a plethora in 'Nomad', which is about loss, the most searing of emotions. Moreover, it's about loss as differentially perceived by a mother and a father. It's accidental that the father is the more forgiving. Perhaps as a male he hankers after his nomadic son's wanderlust. You can't win in situations now shaded by gender bias real or apparent. Apparent in my case. 
       I've been criticised for allowing some of my characters to speak 'out of their class'. I don't do 'class' in that sense. If someone hasn't the vocabulary and the phraseology, I provide it. It's my duty to provide it. It's a writer's duty to provide it. Will Self said he wan't interested in character and therefore not interested in the questions of hypergamous or hypogamous speech.  I know what he meant. Do we despise Swift because he was similarly uninterested?  I've read enough accounts of the lower orders and their corny vernacular. 
       Families in my stories might be divided, or heading for division, but I'd prefer them to be happy - adventurous, loving, creative, un-repressed, undivided and happy. The odd affair on the way does make life interesting. So that's adventurous, loving, creative, un-repressed, undivided, happy - and broadminded. I think I jest.

........

Thank you Nigel, for a very interesting interview. Lots of good luck with both Funderland and the forthcoming poetry collection.