Jan Carson's Blog, page 31

Karen Vaughan Interview

I’ve been looking forward to posting this interview for a few weeks now. It was an absolute delight to work with talented illustrator Karen Vaughan on the cover of Malcolm Orange Disappears. Karen was incredibly gracious in listening to my suggestions and immediately understood the concept of the novel. What she came up with has been garnering compliments from everyone I’ve showed it to since the first image came through. Karen has also done a wonderful job on fellow Liberties writers, Daniel Seery’s A Model Partner, and Moyra Donaldson’s beautiful new poetry collection, The Goose Tree. Karen’s answered some of my questions below and I’ve included a few of her gorgeous illustrations here. Please check out her website http://www.kvaughan.com for more samples of her work and contact details if you’d like to commission her for some work.

How did you first get interested in design and illustration?

Well, I’ve loved to draw for as long as I can remember but it wasn’t until about six years ago (after a few false starts while trying out various creative paths) that I took a chance on doing a course in illustration and loved it. I then went to Wales to finish my degree after which I returned to Dublin and started freelancing.

Are there any illustrators or designers or even other artists who’ve been particularly influential in terms of your artistic journey?

I’m hugely inspired by illustrators from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Illustrators such as Kay Nielsen, Edmund Dulac, Aubrey Beardsley, and Alphonse Mucha are some of my absolute favourites.

How do you go about creating a cover design for a book?

I start by reading a synopsis of the book and jotting down any ideas that occur to me. I do try to read the book itself, if time permits, but as I’m frequently working on multiple projects at any one time, that’s not always possible. After that, I get to work on researching the ideas I have for the cover and doing lots of preliminary sketches. I then produce a selection of rough covers that are whittled down to one after submitting them to the publisher and author.

Do you have any favourite book covers which have been designed by others?

I have loads! Far too many to list so I’ll narrow it down to the most recent covers I’ve admired during bookshop trips. In no particular order, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, The Shock of the Fall, Frog Music and The Good Luck of Right Now all have wonderful covers.

What are your ambitions for the future in terms of your creative career?

I’m enjoying the work I’m getting at the moment so if I can keep building on that I’ll be happy.  I would jump at the opportunity to illustrate a children’s book though. I specialised in illustration for children’s books during my degree so that would really be a dream project for me.

Safe Delivery

 

Yesterday the Ulster Hall postman, (who usually brings me artist contracts and the occasional stationary catalogue), delivered a very important package. I had been anticipating this package for the better part of five years so, though it was no surprise to see it finally sitting, well-enveloped, on my office desk, it was still something of an occasion. As most of you will now know, (seeing as I’ve been incapable of keeping the news to myself and have even told a check out girl in Tesco and two strangers in the green room at Radio Ulster last night), it contained the very first, hot off the press, copy of Malcolm Orange Disappears.Of course I was in love with the blessed thing at first sight. Emily encouraged the hysteria. She’s pretty good at stirring up a spot of localised enthusiasm. There was great excitement in the office, some excessive photo taking and the hugging of various staff members whom I would not normally embrace and later regretted embracing, just in case it set a new and slightly weird status quo for our relationship.

The process of receiving the first copy of my book was not dissimilar to how I imagine it must feel to meet your child for the first time. Whilst I did not give birth to this book in the literal sense, I have been carrying it around for 5 years, (I think, from memory this is comparable to the gestation period of a sperm whale),and I’d become quite attached to having it all to myself. Meeting Malcolm in real, paper-bound life was an incredibly exciting, but also slightly intimidating prospect. I found myself instantly checking for vital signs to prove that it actually was a real and functional book: barcode, chapter index, page of indecipherable dates and legal jargon inside the front cover. I found myself saying things like, “Look how many pages it has” (363 in total which is more than an average Ian McEwan and less than the Bible), and demonstrating this fact to people who clearly weren’t really interested. I also decided straight away that my favourite part of the book was the spine, (Karen has designed the spine with a little mini-Malcolm, peaking out at potential readers from whatever shelf it ends up on). It is epic. I spent at least fifteen minutes last night slotting it into various positions on my bookshelf so I could see how Malcolm looked hanging out beside some of my literary heroes.

I should now be carting my book around Belfast, ready to show it to anyone who asks. Instead, having carried it home inside, not one, but two separate bags, overcome as I was with the fear that it might rain before I could make the safety of my car, it is now sitting on the table at the end of my bed, with a scarf wrapped round it and Raymond Carver’s Cathedral standing solitary guard. I think I might be one of those parents who cocoon their children in cotton wool and don’t allow them to leave the house. Now he’s finally here, I’m a little afraid of what the world might make of Malcolm.

Poets in Motion

Woody Guthrie and his acoustic guitar went riding across the US on a train “bound for glory” and changed the face of the American folk tradition. On Saturday morning, cruising on the kind sponsorship of Translink NI, we three ACES writers, (Nathaniel Joseph McAuley, picture above looking particularly poet-like, myself, and Anthony Quinn, ably assisted by three young Quinns with notebooks), jumped a train in Great Victoria Street Station, bound for inspiration, for glory and if all else failed, Derry/Londonderry. The plan was simple; ride a train, become inspired, write some short pieces of journey-themed literature. The excuse, if such a thing was needed, was the now annual One City One Book programme which is jointly run by Arts Council NI and Belfast City Council.

We met at 8:45 and instantly realised that the tranquil writing retreat we’d imagined was going to be more than a little compromised by the hordes of motorbike fans off to the NorthWest 200, clutching their early morning cans of Harp and, as we approached Ballymena, blasting pipe band hits on their mobile phones. Nevertheless, we were coffee’d up and expectant. It had been over three weeks since I’d last had the opportunity to write creatively and I was craving the excuse to work on a story. Nathaniel and I found a seat at a table, got out our various writing implements and prepared to become inspired. Inspiration was halted somewhere shy of Ahoghill by a lovely couple from Ahoghill who offered us caramel Rocky’s and proceeded to tell us all about their continental holidays and aspirations for an anniversary weekend in Derry. A quick glance out the window revealed a grim grey seascape and the realisation that the Kelly’s were much more inspiring than anything flying past us at 40-60 miles per hour. Much like Fight Club’s Tyler Durden I have always enjoyed the company of “Single Serving” friends whilst traveling across the world and these were particularly lovely and interesting “Single Serving” chums. (It was also a little bit flattering to discover that Mrs Kelly recognised me from last weekend’s appearance in the Belfast Telegraph- this, I imagine, is exactly how JK Rowling must feel every time she rides public transport).

    

    

Arriving in Derry we holed up for three hours in the library of the Verbal Arts Centre and, to my great surprise and greater delight a whole short story slipped out fully formed. What a treat! Unfortunately the story had nothing to do with trains but it provoked a landslide of new ideas and images. I’m going to be tweaking away at my Derry notes for at least another few days before I have anything worth sharing but I’m looking forward to working on the journey theme. I often think that travel carves out an uncluttered space where I experience my best and neatest thoughts. Finding myself neither here nor there I feel as if I have momentarily slipped free of the concerns and responsibilities which can make me feel creatively constipated. I am also realising that I respond well to deadlines and the pressure which comes from choosing to place myself in a closed space and persevere with a piece of writing. I thoroughly appreciated my writing adventures today and want to thank all those who made it possible for me to make a little breathing space in the middle of the madness and be reminded that no matter how noisy things get this month, I am still, above all other things, a writer of stories.

Postcards from the Edge

It’s May 16th and even with my rather limited mathematical skills, I can still confidently say that there are less days left in May 2014 than those I’ve managed to survive so far. I am awarding myself a medal for managing to make it to this point relatively unscathed, and by “medal” I actually mean, “large glass of Rioja.” It’s been a hectic 16 days with some highs and very many lows and more late night bowls of comfort Coco Pops than I was intending. The first physical copies of Malcolm Orange Disappears arrived back from the printer today. I’ve yet to see it but just to know there is an actual, real life, print and paper, Malcolm out there somewhere is both a reassuring and equally terrifying thought. For the first time today I began to feel just a little excited about next month’s book launch and all the kerfuffle that goes around birthing a book. It is impossible to take it back now.

I wanted to give you all a quick update on the highlights of the month so far and reassure you that I’m still standing. I’ve been reading quite a lot with my fellow ACES. Last Saturday we read to a lovely crowd in Clements’ Coffee Shop as part of the One City One Book initiative. However, I have to say that I actually preferred last Thursday’s long distance trip to Derry, (battling against the Giro D’Italia traffic in a 3 hour driving marathon with nothing but wine gums for sustenance). We had a small crowd of fantastic fledgling writers turn out to hear five ACES read in the romance section of Derry Central Library, right next to the largest collection of Mills and Boon paperbacks I’ve ever seen. Afterwards we drank tea, ate buns and had some fantastic conversations with the Derry crowd. They were wonderful encouraging people and it was a real privilege to get to spend some time with them. It was the first time I’ve felt like a proper writer with anything worth passing on to others and this was both a fabulous and very humbling feeling. Sometimes, I’m learning, a small crowd of the right people is preferable to an enormous audience.

I’ve also been scribbling away at every opportunity, prepping interviews, articles and even a couple of new short stories ready to release around the time of the launch date. It’s been a little hectic working full time and coming home to eat quickly and get back in front of a computer. I’m definitely itching to make a return to writing fiction, having had to put Roundabouts on the back burner for the next few weeks. However, I am so grateful for Ailish at Liberties, a lovely lady I have yet to meet. She’s been stirring up a PR storm for me, making contacts with magazines and websites and I am looking forward to sharing lots of different articles and interviews with you in the coming weeks. Also, keep an eye on here for a blog swap with my fellow Liberties novelist, Daniel Seery and with Karen Vaughan, the incredibly talented illustrator and designer who worked her magic on the Malcolm Orange Disappears cover.

My final highlight of the month has been the opportunity to rediscover radio. As a young person I was really involved in local radio and enjoyed presenting my own show and learning the technical side of running a functional radio station. As a medium I much prefer radio to television. I enjoy the fact that radio requires concentration and a fair amount of imagination and have, over the last few years, become one of those dreadful people who linger in the car after they’ve already arrived home, waiting to catch the last part of a Radio 4 drama. I’ve been invited on to 3 different radio shows in the last month and particularly enjoyed chatting with Frank Mitchell on U105 on Wednesday past. To be allowed to talk about my writing, my travels AND also be offered the opportunity to pick a Bob Dylan song was almost too self-indulgent. I’m  looking forward to more radio in the next few weeks and already have a few more Dylan tunes up my sleeve should the opportunity present itself again.

It’s not been the easiest few weeks. I’m just as tired as I predicted I would be. There have been occasional tears, a few incidences of frayed temper, (mostly Giro-related), and a very frustrating incident with a cracked IPhone screen. However, I’m still standing and I’m looking at the rest of May with more excitement than trepidation, looking forward to further adventures. There are only fifteen days left in the month, what’s the worst that could happen?

Giveth and Taketh

This time last year I attended a fantastic debate on the future of the short story at Belfast Book Festival. Kevin Barry recommended a collection by an author name Breece D’J Pancake and whilst I was locked into my Bookish Friends year of reading recommendations, the name- remarkable as it is- stuck with me. Pancake was a young West Virginian writer who attended the University of Virginia’s creative writing programme in the late 1970s, producing a limited, though devastatingly well-written collection of short stories before taking his own life in 1979. I’ve been reading his stories this weekend and they are truly remarkable. However, it was a quote from his mother included in James Alan McPherson’s foreword which struck me and stayed with me throughout the weekend.

“You may keep the books or anything Breece gave you- he loved to give but never learned to receive. He never felt worthy of a gift- being tough on himself.”

- Letter from Mrs. Helen Pancake, February 5th 1981.

It’s fair to say the last week has been quite trying. Long hours, heavy responsibilities and a handful of incredibly stressful situations have made me feel like July, and the breathing space, it will provide is actually getting farther away, rather than closer. I’ve doubted my ability to manage my job. I’ve doubted the quality of the novel I’m about to launch and even doubted my ability to pass as a functional human being. In the midst of all this wobbliness I have been surrounded by people who are supporting me in a host of incredible ways. I started the month with a May survival kit from fellow writer and dear friend, Nathaniel McAuley, (the chocolate didn’t last very long but the tea mug is still going strong). I have a fridge stocked with emergency homemade meals from my lovely Mum. I’ve had daily check-ins from Hilary Copeland, offering increasingly hilarious updates on her own mad May, (and the opportunity to vent back has, on several occasions, been the difference between uncontrollable laughter and tears). I’ve had multiple “July is coming” text messages, prayers, emails and a whole box of advent-calendar style presents from a mystery saint delivered to the stage door of the Ulster Hall. On Saturday evening I had a date with my two favourite people and their hugs, stories and sing-along with Bob Dylan sessions, felt like a big sticking plaster on all the week’s bruises.

This month is teaching me a lot about myself. Just like Breece D’J Pancake I’m pretty good at the giving. I know how to take charge, to organise, to be the one in control. However, when it comes to being carried, to accepting help and gifts and learning how to be vulnerable I’m actually pretty rubbish. I’m beginning to realise that independence and drive needs to sit humbly beside the softer virtues- rest, community, trust. I am so thankful for the kindness I’ve been shown already this month and the support of people who’ve come out to hear me read and are genuinely excited about the book. I would have unravelled even further without them and my challenge in the next few weeks will be to learn how to accept their kindness. This month isn’t really about books or readings or running killer events. It’s all about learning how to put in place habits and practices which will serve me well in whatever the next season holds.

Guest Blog – Michael Nolan

After an incredibly busy week it’s an absolute pleasure to pass the blogging reigns to a wonderful friend and fantastic young Northern Irish Writer. I hope you enjoy Michael Nolan’s blog about his own experience of publishing his first novel, The Blame, to be published by Salt Publishing in early June. Mickey is an absolute legend, one of the most genuine, focused and encouraging writers I’ve met in the last few years. He’s only in his early twenties and has already accomplished so much with his writing. If you’re in town be sure to get along to Mickey’s book launch as part of the Belfast Book Festival (2nd week of June) and follow his brilliant blog at http://www.deafhollow.wordpress.com Over to you Mickey…

It’s easy enough to slip into exhausted axioms, expletives even, when faced with describing what it’s like having your first novel coming out. The initial paralysis, the dumbfounded shock, the rushes of excitement and angst. Then the calming period, the settling in of yourself. Like moving into a new place, it takes a week or two to get used to, and when you do your book launch becomes one of those thing’s that’s happening some point down the line. You don’t need to really worry about it. Not just yet.

But for me that point was much sooner than is usual for writers. I got the news in March and would be published in June. Three months. A blink in the publishing world. I have the eBook format to thank for that. No printing press. No proof copies. There’s an editing period and all that comes with it, then a publication day. Instant worldwide publication with one click of a mouse or tap of a touch-pad. And as that date draws ever closer, and news comes of multiple readings and a launch (instigated by yours truly, Jan Carson) it all becomes very real.

I quickly reverted back to that initial period of shock and angst. Mostly angst. You know yourself. It’s like that eighteenth birthday party you organised long ago in one of the many GAA or social clubs about the road. Them places with a relaxed outlook on what constitutes legal admittance. Where blind eyes are turned and side doors always open. Will your younger mates get in without ID? Will people show up and enjoy it? Or will they leave early, disgusted at the turnout and DJ and overall shiteness of St Paul’s?

I’m an over thinker you see, and just about everything that could be over-thought about the publication of this book has been. Moments of horrible dread are quickly followed by those of irrepressible excitement. Anything can trigger it. A conversation with a peer, an email, a look at what is going to be the cover or, as did happen, bumping into a fella I haven’t seen since secondary school and him telling me how excited he is, that he can’t wait to give it a read even though he doesn’t read much at all.

That fella is a professional boxer now with a three wins and no loses. He was always going to be that. Everyone in school knew it. Anyone that knows anything about boxing in West Belfast knew it. So when he paused mid-conversation, a puzzled look about him, and said, ‘It’s mad to think Micky Nolan’s publishing a book. You weren’t even smart in school,’ I realised the scope of the difference between us.

He’s right about me not being smart in school. I’d more than likely be found in the back field beaking and smoking fegs than in class. But what he said was telling about me as a writer. Nobody ever knew that this is what I wanted to do. They didn’t know that I was going home after school and writing stories. They didn’t even know I read. It was my secret, the thing I did and wanted no one to know about. Imagine the slegging I would’ve got, the fights I would’ve gotten into with lads who said, ‘ah gee he reads books. What a fruit.’

Part of me still thinks people will react that way. They probably will actually. But here I am despite it, presenting something I made to the world, still scratching my head as to how it all happened, and it’s terrifying. Even though that fella probably won’t read it. Even though many people won’t read it. The secret I’ve harboured for so long is out and I suppose it’s a kind of relief. I feel like I don’t have to lie any more, even though I probably still will.

Michael Nolan is 23 years old, from Belfast. He completed a BA in Creative Writing at Liverpool John Moore’s University, then the MA at Queen’s University, Belfast, in 2012. While in Liverpool, he was selected by the Literature Officer at The Bluecoat to read at their ‘Next Up’ writer’s series, and was editor of In the Red Magazine’s 9th issue. He has published several short stories, and won the LJMU Avalon Prize for poetry in 2012. Currently represented by Sam Copeland of Rogers, Coldridge and White. His first novel The Blame will be published by Salt Publishing in early June 2014.