DIARY OF A DEBUT AUTHOR

It feels strange to have the label of debut author after 20 years spent being a full-time writer, but I guess what it really signifies is that I have, at long last, come to the end of my apprenticeship. But one of the new kids on the block I must be because I find myself a finalist in the 2016 Beryl Bainbridge First Time Author Award. And with that honour in the offing, I don’t mind what I’m called.

I keep a writing journal periodically – usually during the blood, sweat, and tears of a novel that refuses to play nicely – in the belief we recreate patterns and that much of learning is about revisiting the turning points to forestall making the same mistakes the next time around. There is a diary equally close to my heart as when I discovered it in the Museum of London Docklands’ collection I finally felt I had an authentic insight into the world of my historical crime novel, Foul Trade. Oscar Kirk was a 15 year-old messenger boy who left for us the everyday details of his life in 1919. In gratitude, I dedicated the book to his memory.

I thought it might be fun in a ‘compare and contrast’ sort of a way to share some of his entries with you alongside a few authorial reflections during my own quest for a place (albeit a minor one) in history. So, here goes . . .

  DIARY ENTRY 1

Oscar Kirk Sunday 9th February 1919

Father went to Beard’s in Stepney to get a couple of pairs of shirts. He came home with some lovely ones.

Had mutton for dinner & had a second helping. Mother gave me half of the chocolate which Nana made last night, and an orange. Had some bacon and fried bread for breakfast.

BK Duncan Sunday 13th March 2016

Made a vat-load of pea & ham soup, which is going to be my stable diet for the foreseeable future as the Awards Ceremony is going to be televised and the only posh frock I possess is a snug fit (and that’s putting it kindly). Have also resurrected my long-abandoned regime of daily gym visits – it’s amazing what a motivator vanity can be.

Talking of mass exposure, I still can’t decide whether to take up one of my creative writing student’s offer of making a short programme for Cambridge TV. I know I should (because the public can’t vote for me if they don’t know I exist and to win The People’s Book Prize I have to come top of the polls) but I’m numbed with terror at the prospect. I’ve been live on local radio and discovered I really enjoyed the experience, but it’s the visual nature of the thing that worries me – will my fear come across and I look like a rabbit in the headlights? And what about my hands? Could I end up resembling a manic axe murderer if I wave them around as much as I normally do; conversely, would sitting on them render me as lifeless as a shop mannequin? On radio I could force relaxation into my voice by pretending I wasn’t sitting in a studio behind a barrage of microphones and computers, although I suspect my resulting intermittent zoning-out was a tad alarming for the interviewer (except she did invite me back so I couldn’t have appeared too deranged).

Vanity, vanity, all is vanity: I do know that. But being a writer is about ego – believing I have something to say you would want to spend your time reading – and, as a novice novelist (as opposed to a seasoned writer), it’s tricky to find the balance between self-belief and self obsession. A wise crime writer friend recently gave me some advice on the matter:

‘Think of your ego like a sports car . . . sometimes in the garage, sometimes tootling along country lanes, sometimes roaring full throttle along the highway . . .’

Think I’ll print that out and stick it above my computer.

On a purring engine note, I am the featured local author sharing favourite reads in this month’s Hertfordshire Life magazine. Pleased with my choices: Delight by the always entertaining and wonderfully opinionated J.B. Priestly; The Silent Boy by the very, very nice man (and what a great writer!) Andrew Taylor; and Longbow by Robert Hardy.

Soon time to think about how to tackle the rewrite of the second book in the May Keaps series, Found Drowned. Ah, that is what I enjoy and what I signed-up for. I always tell my students that the real work of being a writer is in the rewriting; when you can use your skills to craft the book into being the best it can possibly be. I liken it to a master carpenter whittling away the excess wood and knots until you can see the beauty of the grain beneath and can commence polishing.

Which reminds me, need to get another coat of beeswax on my new arrows. So love the fletchings which are blue barred with black like a jay’s feathers. Only hope I can complete the imitation by making them fly through the trees in the forest on Saturday.

 

Polls open to vote for BK Duncan and Foul Trade on 16th May. You can register to be eligible now at  The People’s Book Prize