Looking back at ... The Governess
Now I've finally calmed down after my Polari nomination, I thought I'd talk about how and why I came to write The Governess.
The bare bones of the story first appeared in a poem I wrote for my creative writing class at uni, The Just and Fitting Retribution of Miss Amy. Narrated by a nameless servant, it's the scurrilous story of how an aristocratic floozy ensnares three hapless suitors- who promptly go mad for love, killing themselves.
As I recall, the poem did pretty well, and I wondered if there was further mileage in it. I thought perhaps it could form the basis of a decent short story, and came up with various plot lines.
It was when I was watching a DVD I'd borrowed from the library, David Starkey's The Six Wives of Henry VIII, that it came to me. I was saddened by the plight of Catherine Howard, often dismissed as a brainless trollop but in all honesty just a young girl out to have fun- only she had the misfortune to catch the eye of the King. I was also baffled by the bizarre behaviour of her serving maid, who seemed to aid and abet her way beyond the call of duty.
Which is how it hit me: what if the narrator was a servant similarly entangled with Amy (her name has remained the same through all versions)? Better still, what if that servant was a woman? Once I'd stumbled upon this idea, there was only one profession she could possibly be. Governesses are well represented in fiction: the bonkers heroine of The Turn of the Screw, the murderous Lady Audley, the villainous Becky Sharp. Already it can be seen that I prefer the nasty end of the governess spectrum.
But this was where I thought I'd blindside people. The best known governess in fiction, who eclipses all others, is of course Jane Eyre- who also happens to be one of the banes of my life. (Although possibly not as much as my sister's; Mum decided to name her Jane in a moment of madness). I was so utterly fed up with lacklustre imitators of Bronte- the poor but brilliant governess wins the heart of the lonely widowed prince/earl/whatever the heck he is- that I thought: let's go one better than that. Let's have a governess who falls for her charge.
Next time I'll have a look at characters and the book's structure (which seems to have caused a certain amount of confusion amongst readers).
The bare bones of the story first appeared in a poem I wrote for my creative writing class at uni, The Just and Fitting Retribution of Miss Amy. Narrated by a nameless servant, it's the scurrilous story of how an aristocratic floozy ensnares three hapless suitors- who promptly go mad for love, killing themselves.
As I recall, the poem did pretty well, and I wondered if there was further mileage in it. I thought perhaps it could form the basis of a decent short story, and came up with various plot lines.
It was when I was watching a DVD I'd borrowed from the library, David Starkey's The Six Wives of Henry VIII, that it came to me. I was saddened by the plight of Catherine Howard, often dismissed as a brainless trollop but in all honesty just a young girl out to have fun- only she had the misfortune to catch the eye of the King. I was also baffled by the bizarre behaviour of her serving maid, who seemed to aid and abet her way beyond the call of duty.
Which is how it hit me: what if the narrator was a servant similarly entangled with Amy (her name has remained the same through all versions)? Better still, what if that servant was a woman? Once I'd stumbled upon this idea, there was only one profession she could possibly be. Governesses are well represented in fiction: the bonkers heroine of The Turn of the Screw, the murderous Lady Audley, the villainous Becky Sharp. Already it can be seen that I prefer the nasty end of the governess spectrum.
But this was where I thought I'd blindside people. The best known governess in fiction, who eclipses all others, is of course Jane Eyre- who also happens to be one of the banes of my life. (Although possibly not as much as my sister's; Mum decided to name her Jane in a moment of madness). I was so utterly fed up with lacklustre imitators of Bronte- the poor but brilliant governess wins the heart of the lonely widowed prince/earl/whatever the heck he is- that I thought: let's go one better than that. Let's have a governess who falls for her charge.
Next time I'll have a look at characters and the book's structure (which seems to have caused a certain amount of confusion amongst readers).
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