Lesley Cookman's Blog, page 10

Adrasan again, a writing retreat, and other stuff

Well, I'm back. Flew out to Turkey on May 29th and arrived back home late last night.

Last year, I blogged about Adrasan here:http://lesleycookman.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/last-post-of-summer-adrasan-and-new-book.html so I shan't bother to describe it again. It's still beautiful, but there are dark rumours about the Village Plan. This could ruin the charm the bay has for those of us who go there for the peace and quiet, and attract major investment which could well drive the locals out of business. I personally think the two hour journey through the mountains from Antalya airport will put people off - you REALLY have to want to go there!

However, this holiday was lovely, and I've booked again for September, despite the government raising the duty on alcohol by 12.5%. A major point for me, as I support the hotel's finances with my consumption of wine at the bar. Over the 18 days, we went on five boat trips, one of which was to Phaselis,
very well preserved Roman Ruins with a natural harbour. This trip was a birthday trip for a friend, and hugely enjoyable. Another one was also a birthday trip for a restaurant owning friend, who had to provide his own cake.

But most of the time, it's time spent by the pool, (although we could do with more shade..)
on the beach, eating, or drinking at the bar.
These pictures are from last year, but it's the same people, the same places and even the same clothes. We're terribly predictable. (Oh, and I might look it, but I actually WASN'T pregnant...)

The On Hotel is a lovely place, as is Adrasan, as you can see from both the posts. But don't try and book in early June or September. It will be FULL. Of us. But it has been suggested we pay a visit over winter or spring, and I write very well, there. So, writing retreat, anyone? I hear it's lovely in March...

In other news, I am in the process of signing contracts for three more Libby Sarjeant books after the publication of Murder Out Of Tune next October, the book I've been writing while I was away. I have also contributed a short story to an Accent Press summer anthology, about which I'll tell you when I have more details. Meanwhile, it's back to the book, the washing and the rather jungly garden

Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake

A friend and I went to see Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake on Tuesday at The Marlowe Theatre in Canterbury. It seems incredible that this is eighteen years old; when I first heard the rumblings about the "All Male" version of Swan Lake I was an impoverished wife and mother with four children still at home, and much as I wanted to, the opportunity to see it never came my way.

Finally, with the sale of ebooks cushioning the worst of the impoverishments, and the production coming to my local theatre - I made it! And was it worth it! It is erroneously described as "All Male", there is a wonderful ensemble of gorgeous young women, too, it is simply the swans who are all male - and what swans they are. Not a pointe or a tutu in sight. Of course, I'd seen pictures and clips of them over the years, so I did know what to expect to a degree, but what I didn't expect was the sheer comedy in Act One. It isn't often I (or anybody else) laughs at ballet - indeed if you're talking traditional ballet you would probably be frozen out of the auditorium. The Northern Ballet, of whom I am very fond, provide lighter moments, and I frequently spend a whole evening in their company with a smile on my face, but Swan Lake actually makes you laugh.

Once Act Two is underway with the Prince stumbling into the swans' world, the comedy is lessened, obviously, but the emotional intensity is ratcheted up. And Act Three had me on the edge of my seat and holding my breath. And finally - the big finish. Yes, dear Reader - I cried. Properly. I felt a complete idiot until I noticed the lady next to me was surreptitiously putting away a handkerchief.

It's a wonderful company, and it seems wrong to pick anyone out, but I can't help it. Liam Mower as the Prince was so exactly right, and such a good actor - we knew what was in his head and what he was going through. Sadly, he isn't in the picture above. But The Swan is. THE Swan. Danced on Tuesday by Jonathan Ollivier, that swan has been swooping round  my head ever since. I've found it rare that a dancer is equally convincing in both roles in this ballet, but Ollivier manages that with bells on. I've said - often - I don't ever want to see the traditional Swan Lake again, but I could also say I don't want to see anyone else dance the Swan. He was magnificent. However, other Swans are available...

In case anyone reading this doesn't know all about it, I shan't give away any of the details. The friend I was with, although a ballet fan, didn't, to my surprise, know anything about the original Swan Lake, and found the story difficult to follow. And it didn't have the same effect on him as it did on me, but there, I'm an emotional old cow.

I am now trying to find other New Adventures productions to track down, and if I could, I would have gone to The Marlowe every day this week. Oh, and I can't stop without mentioning the Cygnets...

Go on - try and see it. You know you want to.

My Writing Process

My friend Louise Marley tagged me to take part in this blog ramble. She writes romantic suspense, and I love her books. You can read about her writing process on her own blog here.
So here are the questions I’m supposed to answer:
What am I working on?
The answer is always the same, whenever you ask me! It’s always “the next book” and as I write a series, it’s always the next Libby Sarjeant book. I don’t mind discussing it with close family and my editor, but no-one else, and no-one sees it until I send it to Bob (aka Dear Ed). I hate each book as I’m writing it, and by the end of each one think it’s the worst one EVAH!
Which brings me to – why do I write?
Gawd knows! I think it’s in the DNA. Like most writers I know I started writing my own stories when I was a child and just carried on. I slipped seamlessly into writing features for the trade press when I had my children, and could do it from home. One of my poor babies was dragged in her pushchair to such diverse locations as Simpsons in the Strand (sports department!) and the Cambridge Science Park. Then, as a vaguely trained actor, I began writing (and directing and performing in – try and keep me away) pantomimes, and even a musical, based on old Music Hall songs. The pantomimes are still being  performed all over the country, I’m happy to say, and pay for the annual hols. Then I fell over the short story market and finally into novels, my first and last love. And I write what I first read, starting at the age of nine – mystery novels.
How does my writing process work?
Oh, lordy, lordy. Um. To tell the truth, it’s very unromantic. These days, my publishers will ask me for a title for the “next one”. This will be well before “this one” is finished. So between us (publisher, editor, me and my eldest son – and occasionally the sales director) we come up with a new “Murder...” Then I try and find something to fit, and when I send “this one” to Dear Ed, I have to rush through a first chapter to go at the end as a taster. Eldest son has lots of ideas for settings and situations, and for some reason – because he isn’t actually the demographic – understands the books and the concept. So I’ll take one of his ideas and run – well, waddle – with it. As I write I’ll jot things down in a notebook which sits beside the computer, or in a Word document I keep open alongside the book itself. There is no plan, and I frequently tie myself up in knots, but my argument is: you can’t plan life, can you? It always throws up the unexpected. I’m quite likely to change the murderer at the last minute, so don’t believe anyone who says they spotted it right from the beginning. If they did, they’d better start writing the books – they know more about it than I do.
How do my stories differ from others in their genre?
They don’t really. Except that mine are proper novel length, and these days a lot of so called “Cosy” crime stories are barely novellas. I still say I write Murder Mysteries, but “Cosy” has become the accepted designation, which I dislike as much as my friends who write romantic comedy disliked “Chick-Lit”. My books follow the Golden Age Detective Authors and their amateur detectives, although it is so much more difficult these days to be an amateur! Luckily, most of my readers are willing to suspend their disbelief.
And that’s that. Next, I’m tagging the terrific writer Jan Jones. She and I have been friends for a long time, and she writes wonderful books. Her debut novel Stage By Stage is still one of the best books I’ve read, and her most recent release, Fairlights, a delight for readers who enjoy Mary Stewart.   

Murder In A Different Place is out today!

It's finally out! The ebook is published today, the print version will be out on May 15th. I've been having an online launch with virtual champagne and bacon rolls. At the last minute the copy editor found a mistake I'd made which would have brought Indignant of Tunbridge Wells out in spots, but he and my lovely editor corrected it immediately. See, this is why I like being traditionally rather than self published! So here is the link to the British Amazon site http://www.amazon.co.uk/Murder-Different-Sarjeant-Mystery-Series-ebook/dp/B00JLJFJ4S/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397203167&sr=1-1&keywords=Murder+In+A+Different+Place
And here is the one for US readers: http://www.amazon.com/Murder-Different-Place-Sarjeant-Mystery-ebook/dp/B00JLJFJ4S/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397225568&sr=1-1&keywords=Murder+in+a+different+place

I hope you all enjoy it. I've already started the next one, Murder Out of Tune, which will see the light of day in October.

A Different Place is very near - and I laid the ghost

Murder In A Different Place is very close to being unleashed onto the public. It will be out as an ebook at the beginning of April, with luck and a following wind, and is on schedule to be released in print at the beginning of May. It is the thirteenth in the Libby Sarjeant series, and you may or may not be pleased to know that the first chapter of the fourteenth (and possibly, even the cover) will be in the back.

The other part of the title of this post refers to a post from March 2008 in which I talked about having an old boyfriend find me on the internet. Laying The Ghost We emailed, talked on the telephone and eventually met up. And I remembered what a pain he'd been...

An Open Letter to Agents

First, let me say that I know at least one very lovely agent. I have met others at events over the years, all of whom have appeared to be nice people.

However, when I tried, a fewmonths ago, to seek representation, as the phrase goes, I met a brick wall. On most agencies' websites there are submission guidelines, which unfortunately omit those to already published authors who are quite happy with their current publisher. Like me. So, on the advice of other authors in many genres, I began emailing agents outlining the situation. Out of the dozen or so I emailed over the period of a month, a couple at a time, only three responded. The first said he already had a stable of authors and if he took on another it would be a debut author whom he could build. Well, I understood that. The second, a young lady newly going it alone, said she hadn't the resources to deal with me. (!) The third, another young lady with what seems to be a very up-to-date approach and list, came back enthusiastically and asked me to tell her exactly what we could do for each other. I answered, and that was the last I heard of her.

None of the others, even those recommended by their own existing clients, ever came back to me. Now, I know only too well how the hunt for representation/publication goes. I know a LOT of aspiring writers and I know what the advice to them is, too. "You are in for a LONG wait". Yup. I'm still waiting.

I think, from the honest reply of that first agent, that they don't see the percentages adding up. I am already under contract for the next book, but instead of a three book contract which is usual, we stopped at one, because my publishers know I'm looking for an agent, so if I get one, we will need to renegotiate.

The reason I'm looking, having been perfectly happy up until now, is that there were approaches made which weren't followed up quickly enough just because I didn't have an agent. My publishers are very good - I'm still with them thirteen books in - but they have expanded and have a large list, so I can't expect them to be nurturing my career to the exclusion of all others!

So, what I'm asking is: how do I approach agents? What am I doing wrong? I'm not a beginner, and I actually make a living from my books. And why won't you talk to me?

Answers on a postcard or used fiver. Thank you.

My Writing Process Blog Tour and a Happy New Year!

A very Happy New Year to all. Sorry I've not been around much, but Christmas, panto...lots on! However, last week I was asked by a friend, Jane Jackson,  to take part in a Writing Process Blog Tour, so here it is.

What am I working on?

Currently the thirteenth in the Libby Sarjeant series of mystery novels.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

It fits very firmly into what the US dubbed "cosy" mystery series, which loosely follow in the footsteps of the Golden Age Amateur Detective novels. There is a proliferation of series in the US - Cat Mysteries, Quilting Mysteries, Coffee Shop Mysteries, Shopping Mall Mysteries - the list is endless. My Libby series is just about a nosy middle aged woman and her friends who somehow get involved in the odd murder - suspend disbelief here!

Why do I write what I do?

I started reading my parents' library of detective novels when I was nine, at the same time my mother bought me a copy of Jane Eyre which I read in three days. I was an only child of working parents - I didn't have much else to do! Detective fiction remained my favourite, apart from an excursion into writing romance, which was not my forte.

How does my writing process work?

Lordy, lordy - I have no idea! These days it's more finding another murder in a vaguely probable setting, then trying to fit my regular characters round it. I often don't know murderer or murderee when I start, which paints me into corners sometimes, but I manage to wriggle out of it - or Libby does. I write slowly at first, speeding up as the deadline approaches - which is right now! This is the book which will be out in spring: Murder In A Different Place

This is the link to Jane's blog last week:

 http://www.janejackson.net/2014/01/my-writing-process-blog-tour/

The Wedding Of The Year

Yesterday, Captain Elly Bailey, my younger daughter Phillipa's best friend since they were eleven, married her dashing Major Philip Carrotte, naturally known as The Carrot. My Philly was her only bridesmaid, and while sons Miles, Leo and I were waiting for the arrival of the bride, people kept coming up and telling me "Your daughter looks stunning." And she did, in a Marilyn Monroe inspired red dress and heels that made her taller than her six feet three inches brother. 
Eastling village church is a beautiful Norman building and still has box pews. We go every year for "The 9 lessons and carols" on Christmas Eve, so we all know the vicar. The service was lovely, and the happy couple left under the traditional guard of honour provided by their friends in dress uniforms, swords and all.
A wet and windy walk took us to the village hall, which had been converted into a cross between Narnia and a skiing lodge. We were welcomed by the White Witch, a professional stilt walker who is a friend and neighbour, and her two elves who dodged between the guests cackling and frightening the children. Gluewein and/or hot chocolate were handed round, and eventually, after all the photographs, we were ushered into a marquee converted into a Snow Palace, where we were served roast ham and vegetables, strudel and a lot of wine. Before the speeches the White Witch reappeared on a specially built sledge, with her two elves, now in eerie green leotards, who performed comedy acrobatics in front of the happy couple, eventually dragging the poor Carrot into it.
Then it was the speeches. Father of the bride Graham, known to us all as The Muzzle, although I've no idea why, embarked on his daughter's life, with so many references to our Philly that the uninitiated must have thought she was an adopted daughter. He even compared their GCSE Maths results and talked about my late husband Brian. Crowning moment, however, was when he asked us all to be upstanding and raise a glass to "Eleanor and Phillipa"! Cue uproarious laughter and applause. The Carrot took it exceptionally well, and even presented Philly with a Tiffany pendant. Tiffany - I ask you!
The party in the evening was entertained by Phillipa's band, up from Bristol for the occasion, although without Philly. However, towards the end, she and her fellow singer Charlotte, who had done the bride's make up, took over from the dep singer and brought the house down.
I haven't enjoyed a wedding so much in years, although my ears are still ringing (Philly's band are LOUD) and my feet hurt. Report from Miles, who was persuaded to stay (on a floor somewhere, I assume) is that the heads are Very Bad this morning. Could be in part because our military friends held a "Shots competition" in the middle of the evening. Every time the hooter sounded they had to down one. No wonder they ran out of Jegermeister in 20 minutes.
After that, Christmas seems like a rest.
To all my readers and friends, have a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
Love to allLesley x

Last Post of Summer, Adrasan, the new book and Panto.

Well, I'm back from my holiday. New readers start here:

Every year, I go to a tiny place in Turkey that no-one knows about. No-one except me and all my friends and a large chunk of the Turkish population, that is. To get there, you fly to Antalya Airport, get a taxi (pre-booked by the hotel) and drive for two hours westerly along the much improved coast road, before turning off to drive through the Taurus mountains on a twisting, bumpy and sometimes dangerous road. You drive through the village of Adrasan, proper rural Turkey, and continue down to the bay, named at some point quite recently Cavus Koy. This is a strip along a wide curved bay hugged by the mountains with a few small hotels and restaurants, a couple of "markets" - corner shops to us - a ramshackle jetty where the boats tie up and that's about it.

The On Hotel, a family owned business, is right on the beach. It has a beautiful pool, nice but not luxurious rooms - no television or radio - and a bar. The English visitors, all of whom are regulars and meet up once or twice a year in June and September, spend most at the bar, while the Turkish guests, who pack the bay in July and August, spend very little.

But don't go there if you want high rise hotel complexes or night life. There isn't any. It's quiet and that's how we like it. We are greeted as friends, the various restaurant and hotel owners remember us from year to year - even down to our favourite items from their menus. Conversation in some cases can be difficult - not many of them speak English, perfect or otherwise, and not many of us speak Turkish, other than the standard "hello," "thank you," "two beers please" and "can I have the bill."

But the scenery is spectacular. The mountains have been compared to the Alps, but I like them better. The sea varies from pale turquoise to inky blue, the little coves you visit on the boat trips are also spectacular  and you are quite likely to see flying fish, turtles (Adrasan is a breeding ground) and dolphins.

While I'm there, I always work on my current book. It means I don't lose the thread of the story and I can get back into it with less difficulty when I resume the normal working week. Which will be tomorrow. Now I have to try and fit in a research trip to the Isle of Wight where the book is set - yes, I'm taking Libby away from Kent!

In a couple of weeks, the print edition of Murder In The Dark will be published, and the ebook version is still in the top ten of Amazon's British Detectives chart. Hurrah.

And finally, much to my delight, I have been cast as Baroness Hardup in Cinderella, which will be on at The Playhouse, Whitstable during January and just tipping into February. I shall be knackered, but happy. Oh - and I have to sing. Again.

A Penny Production

Amazingly, my friend Penny has updated my blog into a website. It all looked very technical while she was doing it, yet here I am posting just as I always  have.

Apart from the new blog, nothing much has happened, writing wise. Murder In The Dark rose to the dizzy heights of the Top Ten in Amazon's British Detectives and Women Sleuths, and when it's released in print on October 10th we hope that there will be another little surge in sales, although it does seem as if ebooks are taking over the world. Well, they're certainly taking over my royalty statements.

I have also succumbed to the lure of the iPad, which I am hoping to take to Turkey with me this week instead of the laptop. It works with the Bluetooth keyboard from my lovely new iMac (which Penny also got), but the Bluetooth keyboard is now refusing to talk to the iMac. No doubt I shall discover how to sort them out at some point. Meanwhile, having been persuaded to keep the old plug in keyboard, all is well. Penny will no doubt tell me how to resolve the problem, as she just spent hours talking me through the iPad. She is A Boon.

Meanwhile, here is a picture of me well over thirty years ago. It was posed to go with a piece I wrote, on that computer, for Which Computer magazine. (I still have the desk, but not the lamp!)