Fran Macilvey's Blog, page 59

What Serves?

What do we do with ‘bad’ news? Well, our responses will vary, of course. We can chunter around the living-room, pulling at our hair and bewailing our fate. I have been known to do that when I’m caught unawares. Sometimes, depending on the weather, we may see gloom coming. Grey weather is hardly unexpected in these parts. It is positively blissful to snuggle back down under the covers and watch the rain pouring down from the comfort of our beds. Getting cosy is an excellent reaction to disappointment.

There is bad news that makes us depressed or paralysed. If so, I would say it serves us badly. We would be better, then, to do everything we can to minimise our exposure to news which makes us feel powerless: the litany of car crashes, murders and corruption that we listen to with mounting dread and can do nothing about. We can change channels, leave the room, go for a walk outside, listen to music or watch something calming before bed, or read. This, imvho, is more helpful than being made heavy by bad news.

There is also the kind of bad news that sticks somewhere in our minds, and that we suspect might serve to galvanise us to do something differently. If everyone else is throwing up their hands in despair, we may choose not to listen to that. We might take small steps to restore our faith: collect litter from the verges, write to a pen pal, make that overdue phone-call, laugh with our kids, or sit, write out our next piece of poetry and actually submit it someplace. When bad news makes us jump, I might call it good, or at least useful.

Chapel, ‘Our Lady of the Good News’ Lokorn, Finistere, Brittany

RALPH Mag

Pegasus

 

On Wednesday morning, I received some wonderful news.

The Review of Arts, Literature, Philosophy and the Humanities (‘Ralphmag’.org) (not to be confused with ‘Ralph’ lads’ magazine featuring busty ladies on the covers) published a full and extremely complimentary review of ‘Trapped’ in their latest edition (number 251, midsummer 2014). The Editor found my email address and emailed to let me know.

This was a lead that my publicist at Skyhorse found, as she has been quietly going about her business on our collective behalves.

I am humbled and gobsmacked in equal measure. Yes, I know, a speech of gratitude would not normally include the word gobsmacked, but no other word comes close to expressing my gobsmacked-ness. I am delighted that they not only reviewed ‘Trapped’ so favourably, but gave it a major slot, and published an excerpt. A hat-trick! A truly humbling realisation.

I spent most of the day attempting to log on to the RALPH.org webpages, without success, but have now learned that material from a particular address such as  http://www.ralphmag.org/HY/trapped.html

is stored in Google’s cached memory so that, if you can’t access the page, you can discover its content by clicking on the small green arrow pointing down, which is listed in the Google results page. The word ‘cached’ comes up, which then shows the content, even if the page or website is off-line. A very handy thing to have learned.

Finding and pursuing leads is an odd business, rather like being on a bobbing boat, or at a funfair. Up one minute, down the next, as reviews, articles, ratings, comments and missed chances catch us unexpectedly. When lovely things happen, it feels awesome. When something doesn’t work out, if a lead fizzles out or hoped-for results don’t materialise , we can learn something from that process, even if it might be, how not to rise to indifference, how retrieve information from the web or accept that the time may not be right.

Meantime, the latest good news gives my optimism wings!

Frances Kay

Today I am delighted to introduce Frances Kay, a writer and children’s playwright.  I first met up with Frances (‘Fan’) on a lively on-line writers’ forum.  Apparently, she agreed to read my own book after noticing that I had included the word “sossidges” in a comment to a mutual friend.  We swapped reads, and since then, have kept in touch.  Fan’s writing is very strong, eerily atmospheric and convincing, threaded through with sardonic wit and humour.  Fan’s first book,  MICKA was published in 2010 by Picador and won 100% positive reviews from The Guardian, The Times and the Financial Times, as well as being featured on BBC radio 4′s programme ‘A Good Read’.  Her second novel, DOLLYWAGGLERS, has recently been published by Tenebris Books.

Welcome, Frances. Can you tell me a little about what inspired you to write the ‘Dollywagglers’?

A long time love of dystopian literature, ever since I read ’1984′ when I was fifteen.  Orwell was my idol – a  principled, disillusioned man with a love of England and the English language.  I was especially taken with Orwell ‘s uncompromising vision of a nightmare future when I learned that he was fatally ill with TB as he wrote it, and died soon after it was published.

I wanted to express my disappointment, my anger and my love for England in this story, which I could only do from an exile’s perspective (I was living in Ireland when I wrote it), and when I was diagnosed in 2012 with an inoperable tumour, I felt reckless and emboldened to write my truth, even if it is hard to read.  Parts of it were hard to write.

Any tips for developing a writing habit? Do you write every day or do you prefer to write when you are in the mood?

For a person who makes their living from writing, I’m a very bad example!  I either need a commissioning theatre company breathing down my neck, or I have to wake up at seven and feel the desperate urge to get to my computer.  I write in bursts, in a trance state.  Of course, editing and improving can be done less breathlessly!

You call DOLLYWAGGLERS a dystopia, filled with refreshing anger and dark, bitter humour. What attracts you to writing dark fiction?

We all have a shadow side that needs to come out and play.  I write plays for children and young people, and they deserve hope and optimism, but when I write for adults, I can let loose my darker self – and she has a field day.  I also enjoy reading this kind of fiction, if it is well written.  I’m thinking now of books like Helen Dunmore’s ‘A Spell in Winter’ – she’s a terrific writer.

What was the publishing process like for you?

Two publishers so far, and they could not have been more different.  Picador is an imprint of Macmillan, and being accepted by this huge concern with its glamorous reputation was such an honour, I was ready to say yes to anything.  They have a publicity and sales machine, so the process of getting my book ready for publication involved me saying yes to a cover I didn’t like, that I felt did not reflect the story within.  After MICKA was published, I felt rather neglected.  The next book by Picador followed mine a week later, and it was Emma Donohue’s ‘Room’.  The excitement around that book and the Booker shortlisting, reinforced my feeling of being suddenly orphaned.  No one from my publishers came to the launch event I set up, and I had to suggest to Picador they enter my book for the McKitterick Prize [it was the runner up].

Tenebris Books is another kettle of fish entirely.  DOLLYWAGGLERS is the first one of this new imprint of Grimbold Books to be published, and they went to huge efforts to help me launch it with a splash.  They asked for my input with the cover, and Ken Dawson, their designer, transformed a photo I gave them of two seedy puppets on Southwold beach into a sleazy, brooding cover that exactly captures the spirit of the book – I love it.  They also provided champagne for the launch in London, and Zoe Harris, my editor, flew over with her husband from Norway, and made a fabulous speech at our launch.  All the production team was there.  I felt so loved!  Even more importantly, Zoe and Sammy [of Grimbold Books] love the book with a passion, and our editing was done painlessly and collaboratively.  They even paid an advance – and that is a rare thing, these days.  I hope they will publish my next book.

And your future plans? 

My life expectancy, though uncertain, is, I am assured, at least ten years.  If I can publish another three novels, I will feel completely fulfilled.  I want to leave something my children and grandchildren can read when they are older; I’ll still be a presence in their lives.  I’m working on a sequel to DOLLYWAGGLERS; I felt there was a lot more story to explore.  And I’m still writing plays for young people.  Plenty more ideas in my head!

Thanks for inviting me on your blog, Fran.  I’ll be happy to have you as a guest on mine, as I love your book ‘Trapped’, which has a wonderfully poignant, evocative cover.

Thank you too, Frances.  It has been such a pleasure to host you today.  I hope all your publishing dreams come true.

Frances Kay, author

 

 

Trees (2) – What We Did Next

Last week, I received a quote from our lovely travel agent for travel to a three-legged family trip, first to The Hague to see my sister, thence to Italy, then home again. I offered it to the family, and they agreed, it would be fine. I could just have said, ‘okay, then, it’s Italy this year.” But something stalled me, and this morning I did a straw poll. I asked my daughter (‘quick don’t think!’) what percentage she would give for going to Italy, and she said seventy, which surprised me. ‘Okay, then’, I paused, ‘How about to Amsterdam on the boat from South Shields, then back home, and then up to Crieff Hydro for a week?’ and that went over the eighty mark. Finally, the killer option, how about Amsterdam on the boat, and then Shetland on the boat?’ and her face lit up. A clear winner.

I suddenly understood that lying around in the sun might be my idea of heaven, but might not suit Seline for a whole week. She might want other things to do, and with our budget stretched, anything other than pool lounging would prove a challenge. Not ideal, even though she tans easily, the swimming would be good, and the food is divine.

Before I could think better of it, I asked my husband the same questions (‘No thinking…I said NO thinking!’) and it was interesting to see the play of emotions on his face. He really toiled with being honest about his preferences. Maybe because Seline is young; maybe because she trusts me not to give out double messages, with her, the exercise was fun and very illuminating. With hubby, it became excruciating, and I could see his discomfort, his dissembling (because he wanted to go with what he thought I wanted….) and some incredulity, given how much I moan about Shetland, that I really would prefer his honest opinion, yes please. He must love me very much.

Hubby’s maternal relations all hail from Shetland; I knew Shetland would be a clear winner. We can take my car on the ferry, visit our favourite relations and just relax and look around. We can book a good hotel, maybe, and have a few extra treats. We can take some trips around Noss to see the spectacular gannet colony. And my daughter can play outside to her heart’s content, jumping off walls, running all over the grass, and generally enjoying being somewhere different with lots to do.

I am actually very pleased that Seline enjoys Shetland. It is her home, after all, as much as anywhere is. And I am very pleased to be listening to what the family would enjoy, and doing my bit for the trees.

Northern Gannet – flying in groups, they look like military aircraft

Springer

Please check out this post by my good friend, John Bayliss, whose second book, in the Springer. series is to be published in the Autumn.

The best of luck to you, John.

Trees

Okay, here it is.  I’m an environmentalist.  All my life, I have dreamed of planting trees.  Big, broad-leafed, benign and beautiful.  Every day, even as a small kid, I would watch adults shake their heads and mutter at the landslides, the floods and earthquakes, asking themselves, while nervously comparing graphs and print-offs, ‘What can we do about this, hey?”  And I would whisper…. “Plant trees!”

Trees are the tap in the sink.  They are the anchor of dirt and sand, of water and life.  They allow the alchemy that fosters life. They dignify the poor and homeless, they shelter and feed the insects, the bees, the birds and the sap suckers.  Trees give us wood, warmth, shelter, beauty, perfume, love and joy.  Their renewal is our strength.  Their survival is our biggest blessing and our only hope.

I want to grow up, to plant trees, to bless the earth, to save it from extinction.  This, I have always wanted to do.  And I think I have just decided to make a start.

We are planning to travel to see my sister this summer.  And we had hoped to take a second week and travel to Italy.  Depending on what the travel agent can discover about three legged trips – to the Hague, to Italy, then home – that might still happen.  Now, what if that money we spent could be passed to an environmental charity to plant trees?  Maybe not all of it, maybe just what it would have cost to ship me to Sorrento and back….what if all that money was given over to buying a bit of the Amazon, or joining “Trees for Life” and setting up a monthly pledge?  What if?

I have always assumed that I had to be settled, somehow….middle-aged, well off and secure before I trigger my grand plan, set off on my trek to reforest the earth.  The time is now.  Why wait?  What am I waiting for?  For God to give me permission?  Goodness, S/he is really begging for help, so hardly needs to give me permission.  More a case of just deciding, then.  So, here we go!

Turtle Tree

Let’s all plant trees. Simples.

Does Dishonesty Pay?

It is tempting, isn’t it, to make the most of opportunities?  I have just been reading in my new copy of Mslexia about ‘how to write a bestseller’ and reflecting that writing it may be achievable: the challenge is selling it.  We learn how to make the most of opportunities that come our way.

I have a good friend, who has supported me and my writing for many years.  In a busy schedule, this writer manages to find time to encourage and share insights which have nourished my self-belief.  I also like to think that we have a lot in common, which is a precious discovery and one that, quite frankly, has helped to keep me sane.  As it happens, this writer has occasional contact with a famous writer.  My friend tells me that the writer does not do book reviews, because if s/he did, s/he would never get any work done.  Now it just so happens that I could, if I really wanted, find a way to link to this writer via another, rather tenuous contact.  If I was feeling opportunistic, I might approach them.  Should I?  The thought flits through my head, like a taunt, and I dismiss it, quickly.  No, I should not.  I would simply annoy the writer, alienate my friend and stack up a whole pile of bad karma to get through.  Urgghh!

To put a positive spin on this – a trick I find so helpful – if I am meant to walk a particular path, I hold to the thought that God will make it possible.  I truly believe that.  In fact, I notice opportunities alighting before me all the time.  It becomes my job to see the chances that are for me and have the courage to pick them up.  That becomes a proper, grown up challenge, which arrives without the whiff of betrayal and loss.  Thank goodness.

 

From Wikimedia Commons – A Burrowing Owl – Athene Cunicularia – near Goianiagoias, Brazil – Fourth placed finalist in the Picture of the Year Competition, 2013

Lopsided (2)

Vaszary – Bathers Outdoor

This is meant to be a faintly amusing post.  Unlike the last ‘Lopsided’ though it hobbles along on much the same theme.

I have started journeying to the Commonwealth Pool – rebranded “The Commie” since I last used to go regularly – an Olympic-sized space, ideal for floating, stretching and generally larking about.  At last I can swim in peace, without feeling in the way, without needing to excuse those who do not yet have the nautical equivalent of a driver’s licence.  Learning to drive has taught me all about navigating aquatically, but lots of other swimmers don’t seem to think about this need, so in smaller pools, there is much battling for position, and many apologies.  Here, in this vast space, there is room for everyone.

The “Commie” is two metres deep, and there are warning signs on the tiles: No non or weak swimmers beyond this point.  What is a non? I wonder, flippantly.  Getting in, therefore, suggests I am on my own, entering swirling eddies, deeps with danger.  But there are places to hang at the side, ledges to rest the feet.  It is fun, though I am sure that in a moment, I will discover a catch (apart from the underwater cameras). At the end of the swim, here it comes - getting out is harder than it used to be, when I happily lifted myself out at the side with my arms.  These steps are deep, and the height I can lift a foot on any morning tends to vary, depending on several factors.  Five years ago, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to the relative virtues of whichever foot or hand to use.  Nowadays a chronically sore left shoulder, sore left hip, a sore right knee and a sore right foot give me pause: Once of each, blithely layering themselves over my ease, in their own, special way.  That’s okay, but to have to stop so that I may weigh up which pain I would prefer is occasionally disconcerting.

There is bad news that depresses – this isn’t it! – and there is bad news that makes me do something. If I have to go swimming to keep myself moving, to keep warm and flexible, I will do that most willingly. I wish I could persuade my daughter to share my enthusiasm. Maybe today….it is a lovely day. Have a great weekend, and thanks for following, reading, commenting and enjoying.

To Buy or Not To Buy

I am a reader. I read books all the time, everywhere. It is part of what I do for work, and in precious leisure time. I find as I get older, that my eyes – or rather, my left eye – gets tired more easily; and I crave the comfort of a good soft seat, so reading a PDF file at the home PC is not ideal. In any case, I associate that posture with being ‘at work’ so that reading begins to lose its comfortable aspect, and occasionally feels like a chore. The last thing I need is another job to do.

It was a dream last week that finally persuaded me to buy a kindle. Despite my reservations – and the fact that e-books have no second hand value….I had a snapshot dream of waiting to turn right, in my car, but having to wait for a gap in the traffic, as other cars drove seamlessly past, getting on with their lives.

Cars are my body-life metaphor. So there I was, waiting to turn right and head for home, while other cars sped past. ….Okay, so, maybe it is time to join the e-crowd and get connected. No longer excluded from books only available electronically, now able to join in with e-book promotions and discussions on-line about the latest group read, I can fetch down all these books  I have been meaning to peruse from the internet and join the discussion. That in itself is good enough cause to celebrate. 

Girl Reading – Jean Baptiste Camille Corot

Realism

What is realism?  The refusal to be blinded by soft sentiment, or fanciful notions of ease?  I love Edna O’Brien’s writing, and have recently finished reading ‘Saints and Sinners’, a beautifully poignant and well written collection of short stories.

But, alas, towards the end I found myself losing patience with the author.  Realism is all very well, but surely there is room on this Earth for an occasionally happy, or at least contented protagonist, is there not?

Realism = depression, apparently.  The short story is an ideal vehicle to convey sharp, witty messages, but in every story of this collection, though the messages are subtle and convincing, the characters are abused, lonely, unfulfilled, repressed or unexpressed.  I want to take O’Brien to task at the last fence and argue: I am tired of this endless realism.  Is it realistic to be so constantly downtrodden?  The law of averages alone suggests that out of a hundred people, ten should thrive in various degrees of contentment, five should be very happy, and two should acknowledge they are ecstatic, at least some of the time.  I made these stats up, of course, but you get the point.

I do believe that Life forces are naturally buoyant, and that it is mainly our insistence on our worries that perpetuates feelings of being downtrodden.  I would be so relieved to read a story by O’Brien, about a person or persons who manage to find happiness. I know some people who are consistently happy, and their example informs me as much, if not more, than the example of those who insist on their particular brand of realism….plod, plod, plod, sigh.