I’m not really the type of person to pen letters to an artist of any kind, nor to stand in line to get a copy of a writer’s book signed with a personal dedication. Were I to achieve any success as an author, I suppose I could find myself on the other side of the table.
Nevertheless, I contacted three writers yesterday, all of whom run interesting blogs that I subscribe to. In the last year, I’ve been assessing what works and what’s bloody annoying about blogs. The most irritating, is one that requires me to click through three links to get to the article mentioned in the newsletter—that’s like entering a supermarket through the sliding doors, only to find a vast empty space with a shop assistant directing you to open a door into a corridor, where you meet another shop assistant who points at another door you need to open before seeing the first food items.
There are some blog newsletters I’m always glad to see in my Inbox. I intend to pinch emulate some of their techniques as I resurrect this blog Paul Pens. I’m still rather naïve about blogging, but understand that guest blogging is a good way to network and meet people. I’ve noticed that several well-known writing gurus seemingly started out with a blog/website to promote their novels, but in offering advice about writing they created an income for themselves by offering online or residential retreats.
Building my brand, my Cornish Detective series and me as an author is best done through blogging, and, more importantly for sales, having a mailing list of subscribers. At least that’s what marketing experts reckon is the most effective way of making sales, compared to Facebook, Twitter and paid ads on Amazon.
I’m such a numbskull, that I’d failed to appreciate how lucrative blogging could be. Of course, I knew that revenue could be made from ads down the side of the page, promoting products that are often nothing to do with your books, but I hadn’t put two and two together to realise that blogging could be a viable business.
Anyhow, as an early attempt at networking other bloggers, I responded to three authors who’d put out requests in their latest newsletters. One wanted to know about novels that were neglected treasures, another was happy to take suggestions for articles about Cornwall, while the third was suffering from a cold and wanted home remedies…I told him about my use of garlic.
(I haven’t had a cold for 24 years).
If they respond, we may start a dialogue that leads to guest blogging. Writing is such a solitary occupation, that it’s good to know there’s someone else out there who’s castaway on another desert island chucking bottles into the sea containing messages!
Have any of you written to an author?
Did they reply?
Have you attended a book signing?
If you blog, do you have reciprocal arrangements with other bloggers?
Two days after turning officially old, following my 65th birthday in February, I came across a writing competition that reassures me that I’m actually ‘Ageless’.
Mind you, there have been a few debut authors of mature years, such as Mary Wesley, 71, when her first adult novel was published), Tim Finch (debut at 51), Diana Athill (memoir published in her early 80s), Penelope Fitzgerald (60, when her first novel was published) and Kit de Waal was 56, when her award-winning novel My Name is Leonwas published.
In my latest querying campaign, I’ve approached 88 literary agencies and several indies and digital publishers, each time contacting specific agents best suited for my crime novels, none of whom are as old as me. A couple look young enough to be my grandchildren—I own belts older than them!
Researching the success stories of their recently-signed clients, I found just one 64-year-old debut novelist. Having said that, my new source of inspiration is James Oswald, who initially found success for his crime series by self-publishing, before signing to Penguin Books for a six-figure deal at the age of 45.
He still runs a cattle and sheep farm, and I enjoy reading the newsletters from his blog, telling of how he juggles tending livestock with writing and promoting his latest title. He comes across as a nice man, hard-working and humble.
If you’re of mature ageless years, there are a couple of writers’ groups of interest:
I finished reading Philip Pullman’s La Belle Sauvage last night, in which a benign witch called Tilda Vasara makes a timely appearance. She casts a spell of invisibility that cloaks two child protagonists, and the baby they’re protecting, meaning their pursuers can’t see them. Tilda only sticks around for four pages, but her presence influenced my dreaming.
Trapped in a tedious dream about filing and form filling, undoubtedly caused by sending off four queries to fussy literary agents that evening, I was thrilled to see the witch from His Dark Materials trilogy, Serafina Pekkala fly into view. She appeared as played by actress Eva Green in the film adaptation, which was a bonus, but stayed for only a moment, saying “It’ll soon be over,” before zooming off on her broomstick. I presume she was referring to querying, which I should finish tonight.
It was nice to see one of my fictional crushes, and it made me think about which other fictional female characters I fancy.
Lisbeth Salander, from the Millennium series by Stieg Larsson is a wildly unconventional anti-hero, a mix of vulnerability and sociopathy. Not an easy person to be around, she might well scare the living daylights out of me!
Lastly and less frighteningly, is Bathsheba Everdene from Thomas Hardy’s Far From The Madding Crowd.
She’s passionate and spirited and beguiling. Her determined independence is attractive—not just to me—I’ve known several recently-divorced women who chose her as a role model.
As for my man crush, it’d be Aragorn, from The Lord Of The Rings, as played by Viggo Mortensen in the films. He’d better be gentle with me!
In my own writing, my crush would be for a character called Alice from a novella called Is It Her?, who only appears in retrospect, mainly through the memories of her husband who accompanied her to the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland for an assisted suicide to end her suffering from cancer. She also makes herself felt through a loving and practical email she’d time-delayed to be delivered a month into her husband’s widowhood. I imagined her looking like the actress Patricia Clarkson.
How about you?
Who’s your crush?
If they’ve appeared in a film adaptation, were they well cast?
There are moments in life when we chance upon a song, poem, film or book that chimes with something within us. Pithy quotes resonate—we remember them—they influence how we act. I’ve been collecting quotes, anecdotes, aphorisms and poems for twenty years, which I refer to for inspiration.
Sometimes a book, poem or song lyric can be life-changing. It might make us see things in a different way, or confirm what we were already thinking—an ego-boosting fillip that proves we’re not alone in the world. How what we read affects what we write is hard to say, but as Pam Allyn of the International Literacy Agency said: “Reading Is Like Breathing In; Writing Is Like Breathing Out.”
I grew up in the 1950s-1960s, a time of great social change with the rise of consumerism and the building of so-called New Towns within commuting distance of London; these were designed to take the capital’s population overflow housing them in modern developments to replace WW2 bomb damaged buildings. My hometown of Stevenage, Hertfordshire went from being a sleepy 6,000 in population, when I was born, to have tens of thousands of residents
I was a real lover of nature, so adored The Wind In The Willowsby Kenneth Grahame, which taught me some early lessons about conservation, how small is beautiful, loyalty and opposing property developers. It was galling to realise that I lived in a town that had expanded onto green spaces. The idyllic quality of life which Mole and Ratty sought in The Wind In The Willows eventually led me, after much wandering, to move to Cornwall.
My attitude towards opposing the destruction of the environment was cemented by reading Edward Abbey’s The Monkey Wrench Gang.
I learned about the dark side of war by reading Lord Russell of Liverpool’s books on Nazi and Japanese war crimes. The Scourge of the Swastika and The Knights of Bushido were harrowing reading matter for 10-year-old me, but they were formative in making me realise that fascism has to be opposed.
On a lighter note, a few years ago, a friend introduced me to the writing of Pema Chödrön. I’ve long had an interest in philosophy and her Buddhist beliefs chimed with what I’d been wondering about, particularly what she says about ‘attachment’ which hooks a person into a long-standing cycle of negative thinking.‘Start Where You Are’are ideal watchwords for any writer embarking on the telling of a story.
I love poetry and recall being struck by the chilling forthrightness of Philip Larkin’s This Be The Verse when I first read it as a teenager. It started me thinking that I shouldn’t have children…and I never have.
More recently, I was delighted by the honest and sensual verse of Sharon Olds.
She writes fearlessly about ageing, including making love. Her frankness and good humour affected my poetry and prose. Hard to dislike somebody who writes a poem calledCelibate’s Ode To Balls.
Writing by Peter Cox, literary agent, author and founder of Litopia, with its writers’ forum The Colony,made me reconsider what I was eating. I readYou Don’t Need Meat which opened my eyes to a lot of issues I’d been ignoring about the food industry. I eat a lot more pulses, grains, fruit and vegetables these days. I could have done without the nightmare I had after reading the book, in which I was pursued through a forest by giant pork chops spitting applesauce at me! I’d rather not think about the Freudian aspects of that… I certainly woke more terrified than turned on.
It’s not just the books we read, but also the books we write that change our lives. Returning to creative writing in 2013 transformed my self-belief and I’m more optimistic about life. Whether my words will ever change a reader’s life remains to be seen.
What books do you remember as influential from your childhood?
Has a book ever changed how you think about something?
Woody Allen said that: “My One Regret In Life Is That I Am Not Someone Else.”
Assuming reincarnation and time travel are possible, which author would you come back as?
They can be dead or still alive…and feel free to change gender, nationality, sexual orientation, religion, etc.
This fantasy question is rather different to being asked which authors you’d have to dinner. For instance, when I think of my writing heroes, irrespective of their talent, some of them had unhappy lives. I might still risk it, as I’d be fascinated to see how their creative process worked.
My choices would be:
Of the dead
* Rumi: the Persian poet, revered for his love poetry. I wonder what his love life was like. He had a decent innings surviving until the age of 66…impressive for the 13th-century.
* Guy de Maupassant: A great short story writer, who rubbed shoulders with such luminaries as Alexandre Dumas, Gustav Flaubert, Ivan Turgenev and Émile Zola. Sadly, his own story was short, for he died of VD in an asylum at the age of 42.
* Richard Brautigan: A writer of bizarre comedic stories, a real maverick, but dead by his own hand at the age of 49, his body not found for a month.
Perhaps I should change gender. French writers Anaïs Nin and Colette led fascinating and erotic lives, surviving until the ages of 73 & 81.
Among the Living
Shape-shifting into the careers of living authors would be interesting. I note that all the writers I’ve chosen have retained the common touch, not abandoning their humble roots.
* Larry McMurtry: his output is impressive, with his books adapted into respectful movies and television series.Lonesome Dove is a great Western. He’s a used book-store owner & cat lover.
* Dennis Lehane: brilliant novels that win awards and are turned into decent films, which is something of a miracle. Also wrote episodes of The Wire.
* James Lee Burke: an illustrious writing career, and he’s still actively publishing in his 80s. I like how he stays true to his characters, writing series of novels about them. Daughter Alafair is also a best-selling crime author.
* Alice Hoffman: my favourite author of Magical Realism, which she inserts seamlessly into her tales of characters struggling against the odds. Great at showing how what someone considers to be magic provides them with the courage to endure.
Who would you be? One of the Brontës? Charles Dickens? William Shakespeare?
Or someone contemporary and still living, such as Hilary Mantel, Margaret Atwood or Paul Auster?
Just think of the fun you could have getting these famous authors to write something radically different!
In reading crime novels, I frequently find that I guess what’s going to happen with characters long before it does. For instance, I’m currently enjoying one of the excellent Hap & Leonard novels by Joe R. Lansdale.
Honky Tonk Samurai has a plot involving a missing girl, who may have been working for a high-class prostitution operation, which makes most of its money from blackmailing clients. Her granny hires Hap & Leonard to track her down, and asking around they pay a shady character $1,000 for information. This career criminal tells them of a dreaded assassin who works for the extortionists, called the Canceler who garottes his victims with a wire, before slicing off their testicles to keep as souvenirs. The snitch says he needs the pay off to flee town. When I read that, I thought “He’ll stick around, be killed and end up in the trunk of his car—without his balls.” Sure enough, 20 chapters later, that’s exactly what happened.
I wasn’t that disappointed, for I’m familiar with plotting my own crime stories, and I must have read a couple of thousand crime novels in the last 50 years. I even had a glimmer of satisfaction at having guessed what would happen—something that fans of any genre enjoy—it pays to state the expected sometimes.
What’s more rewarding, is when a complete surprise happens…a believable one, I mean, not something so wildly improbable that the reader gets annoyed. As thriller writer John Buchan advised:
“A good story should have incidents, which defy the probabilities and march just inside the borders of the possible.”
I’ve been trying to think of novels I’ve read in the last couple of years, where something totally unexpected happened. Dennis Lehane’s Since We Fell starts with a surprise, as the protagonist is killed by his wife:
‘On a Tuesday in May, in her thirty-fifth year, Rachel shot her husband dead. He stumbled backward with an odd look of confirmation on his face, as if some part of him had always known she’d do it.’
The plot is convoluted, a tangle of conspiracies, which throws out a few shocks, although the opening with the apparent murder of the husband is explained away with one of the most far-fetched tricks I’ve come across in fiction.
I should say, that Dennis Lehane fabricated one of the best twists in modern psychological suspense writing, with the ending of Shutter Island, revealing that the protagonist is really a mentally unbalanced murderer who’s fantasised the story.
In 2018, I read Adam Hamdy’s thriller Pendulum which uses the writing technique of having most chapters end with the hero being thrown into jeopardy. It was skilfully done, but preposterous at times, as he’s involved in so many violent fights that he makes James Bond look like a wimp. The author gleefully kills off some engaging characters, which wrong-footed me a bit.
When it comes to best-selling novels, praised for their edge-of-the-chair tension and unpredictable plots, I found that my jaw didn’t drop over Gone Girl, The Girl On The Train, Fight Club or Cara Hunter’s Close To Home.
Part of the problem for me was, that far from being books I couldn’t put down, I was so repelled by the unlikeable characters, that I didn’t much care what happened to any of them! As Mark Twain said:
“The test of any good fiction is that you should care something for the characters; the good to succeed, the bad to fail. The trouble with most fiction is that you want them all to land in hell together, as quickly as possible.”
Maybe I’ve become unshockable from being a writer. I wrote about this drawback in an old post.
Well, I’ll be damned, I’ve been surprised in a slightly spooky way, for I just finished reading Honky Tonk Samuraito find it has an ending identical to my recently completed novel The Dead Need Nobody—the hero gets stabbed in the last chapter and is at death’s door on the final page. I’m glad I finished my story before reading it, as it might have forced me into altering my work.
It all makes me wonder if the surprises I’ve put in my Cornish Detective novels will work on my readers. I try to throw in at least one you-didn’t-see-that-coming incident in each story. For example, in An Elegant Murder,my detective was working on his garden, thinking about investigations, when a mountain lion leapt over the fence and stalked towards him. There’d been rumours of exotic big cats on the loose, and various savaged livestock corpses were found, but suddenly he had dramatic proof of their existence. I took myself by surprise writing that confrontation, which I hadn’t planned, so maybe the spontaneity will catch the reader out.
What books surprised you?
Do you try to hoodwink your readers with twists and turns?
Are there any supposed surprises in great literature that you just couldn’t believe?
I’ve learned a lot about the techniques of writing, since returning to creating stories six years ago. I’ve admired many authors, from boyhood, savouring how they transported my imagination. I like howthey did it, as much as the story they told.
As I aged, I decided that life was too short to waste it reading badly written books. Persevering with novels that annoyed me, seeing them through to the end, made me disappointed in myself and contemptuous of the author. I tend to avoid writers who don’t engage me in some way. That’s not to say that they’re second-rate, for there have been bestsellers and literary prize winners that simply leave me cold.
I’m suspicious of the hoopla that surrounds authors who are household names, and of challenging novels of literature that takes a committee of eminent writers to decide which is best. I’m glad that books are getting recognition, but not so gullible as to believe that reading these much-lauded authors will be a pleasant or character-improving experience.
It’s possible to admire a work of art, but notlike it very much. I admire the movie Citizen Kane, but don’t enjoy watching it. I admire the technique of Paul Auster, but don’t get any pleasure from his novels.
I recently started reading a highly-praised crime novel You Will Know Meby Megan Abbott, an author new to me. The opening chapter was bewildering, a confused hotchpotch of one sentenced conversation between partygoers, as witnessed by a drunk mother. I didn’t know who any of these characters were and had to read paragraphs a couple of times to get an idea of what was going on.
I immediately recognised what Megan Abbott was trying to do, by introducing an unreliable narrator, but it came across as a poor copying of Paula Hawkins’ Girl On A Trainand Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl. I scanned pages further into the story and was similarly confused and unimpressed. Considering how much we’re advised by writing gurus to grab the reader’s attention with our opening five chapters, this was a dismal failure.
I gave up on it, turning to one of my favourite authors Dennis Lehane. Reading his World Gone Bywas like entering a beloved restaurant where I knew I was going to enjoy the meal. Then, I noticed signs of a run-on sentence, which Lehane had rewritten, to make three shorter sentences. It still read clumsily, but…hang on, I’ve forgotten the storyline…what was it he said? So I reread the paragraph, annoyed with myself for dissecting writing technicalities rather than enjoying the whole.
So, does being a writer spoil your enjoyment of reading?
It’s sometimes said that getting a bad review is better than getting no reviews at all. Some readers like checking out what a book is really like if there are loads of one and two-star reviews amongst higher ratings. As Oscar Wilde advised:“There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.“
Criticism can be succinct. The pithy humorist Ambrose Biercewas asked to evaluate a sleep-inducing tome and apparently, he handed in a caustic one-line review:“The covers of this book are too far apart.“
That doesn’t mean to say that harsh words don’t hurt. As Thomas Mann has written:
“Our receptivity to praise stands in no relationship to our vulnerability to mean disdain and spiteful abuse. No matter how stupid such abuse is, no matter how plainly impelled by private rancours, as an expression of hostility it occupies us far more deeply and lastingly than praise. Which is very foolish, since enemies are, of course, the necessary concomitant of any robust life, the very proof of its strength.”
“Listen very carefully to the first criticisms of your work. Note just what it is about your work that the reviewers don’t like; it may be the only thing in your work that is original and worthwhile.”
I was prompted into starting this thread, after reading a witty review of a 1973 British science fiction film, called The Final Programme, which was on the Talking Pictures channel of Freeview recently. Based on a novel written by Michael Moorcock, strangely, it was the only one of his books to be filmed. From the outset, it’s a mess, and curious about its history, I looked online. One critic found the film “an almost unmitigated disaster”, with “an ending so inane that you will want your money back even if you wait and see it on television.“
A poor review for a film can mean box office disaster, though there are plenty of movies that were savaged by critics, but loved by audiences. This tends to happen with a series of films, where the standard deteriorates: Scary Movie 5 was detested by the critics, but still filled theatre seats, making a profit of $58.4 million.
I thought that with books, readers would pay more attention to reviews, as it’s certainly one of the ways that I choose what to read, but according to several surveys I looked at, a tiny percentage, about 2%, cite reviews as being a determining factor. Rather, people choose by browsing within a genre they favour and look for authors they already know.
This should be encouraging, though there’s still the problem of how to get known in the first place. As unknown authors, if we’re self-publishing, we’re advised that it’s vital to get favourable book reviews, and hustlers made a lucrative living offering pay-for reviews.
I admit, that when looking for books to read, by requesting them from my public library, a bad review will put me off, though I retain loyalty to authors that I like so I may try a title that gets panned. Some fans of best-selling writers don’t care either way. At the time of writing, in April 2019, E.L. James has just published her first novel outside the 50 Shades series. Called The Mister, I’ve yet to see a good review of it.
Now is the time of year when newspapers and websites are full of lists detailing critics and authors’ best books of the previous twelve months.
I gave my favourite reads of 2017, so I’ll continue the tradition with my baker’s dozen (or so) of favourite reads.
Not all of my choices were published this year, and there are several novels that are part of a long series, including a couple that are sequels or prequels to successful stories.
1)Lamentation by C. J. Sansom. The sixth story in the Matthew Shardlake series.
I can’t praise these books enough. Even if you don’t normally read historical fiction, you’d like them, as they hook the reader in. I prefer Sansom’s handling of the Tudor period to that of Hilary Mantel, as he has more warmth in his writing and conveys the fears of ordinary citizens better. A new story in the series was published in October, called Tombland.
2) Robicheauxby James Lee Burke. I’ve read all of the Dave Robicheaux series, and this is the twenty-first story. Burke is a writing heavyweight whose technique is something to aspire to. He gives a strong sense of place, tying historical events into contemporary attitudes with great characterisation.
A humbling read from a Professor of Anatomy and Forensic Anthropology, who literally knows death inside out. Not as macabre as you might think, with unexpected moments of humour, her memoir is gripping and full of wisdom.
An unexpected pleasure. I’d read favourable reviews, but Miller’s unusual approach to crime writing gave me food for thought, as he goes off at tangents, making his stories as much character portrayals as they are entertaining and involving mysteries.
I normally steer clear of alternate histories, but I liked the blurb on the cover of this novel that I picked up in the library. I was soon gripped, as the author’s premise of a continuing form of slavery was believable and there were plenty of ‘what-would-you-do?’ thrills. Good characterisation and an effective condemnation of corporate America. I preferred it to Colson Whitehead’s highly-praised The Underground Railroad.
I read this novel as part of my research into the world of art and forgery, for my latest Cornish Detective novel is set in the art colony of Saint Ives. I was captivated by the masterful writing and how the author wove two time periods into the narrative. Smith has a lightness of touch using arresting imagery that makes you think deeply about creativity and possession of the finished product.
A prequel to Practical Magic Hoffman’s most successful novel, and adapted into a Hollywood movie. The author weaves her spell in an entrancing way, making the reader believe that witchcraft has a place in contemporary society. Deft handling of intimate moments makes you feel a part of the story.
This book appeared on so many listicles, that it almost put me off reading it. I’m glad that I did, for it’s a mind-expanding challenge. The author makes some rather woolly assertions, which made me wonder if he was being deliberately provocative, as surely so and so was more likely….Damn it, he made me think!
After enjoying The Sisters Brothers, which was an offbeat Western, I wondered how the author would handle a modern setting. The plotting is off kilter, making you wonder what’s going to happen next…almost as if deWitt is throwing a dice to decide the action. The mother and son protagonists are not people you’d want to get too close to, as you’d be safer observing them at a distance. Gloriously and madly self-destructive, they stick in the memory. Oh, and there’s also a bonkers cat character called Small Frank who’s the reincarnation of the mother’s dead husband! A fun read.
You know how we’re advised to start our story with a hook, and that it’s wise to have a moment of tension or a question at the end of each chapter, that compels the reader to turn the page? Well, try reading Adam Hamdy’s third novel, which does just this really well. His hero is quite the most resistant to injury character I’ve encountered, but the plot is thrilling and the tension never quits.
Powerful storytelling with a strong sense of place in a claustrophobic coastal community in Maine. Sure to divide sympathies, the main character Olive is a force of nature. Lots of truth about what it means to be human, so not always an easy read.
I was drawn to read this novel, after watching a BBC documentary on Flanagan in which he discussed the writing of it. He’s a personable chap, with his feet firmly on the ground and not one to bullshit about the mysteries of his craft. His novel is also fluff-free and though a harrowing read is life-affirming.
This year, I read his Rose Gold, Known To Evil, When The Thrill Is Gone, Down TheRiver Unto The Sea, And Sometimes I Wonder About You and And All I Did Was Shoot My Man.
Not only does he come up with brilliant titles, but his plotting is serpentine and engrossing. Mosley is great at thumbnail sketches of incidental characters, and inserting his MC’s internal dialogue into the action. Even if you don’t like crime novels, his are worth a look to see how he makes everything look so easy.
This charming anecdote about how a six-year-old reader jealously guarded his favourite book, made me wonder which stories are intensely personal to me.
I recall the wondrous possibilities of reading, discovered as a youngster…how a book could become a portal to another world, making me a traveller in time and space; books became friends.
The book that I’ve re-read the most, and which I feel bonded to, is The Wind In The Willows by Kenneth Grahame…ideally with illustrations by Ernest H. Shepherd. It’s classified as a children’s book, but has universal themes of the importance of home and loyalty to friends and the natural world, as well as being prescient about what happens when those principles are abandoned—as shown by the current state of politics, mass extinction of species and global warming.
For modern books, I feel like a champion of a crime novel I read in 2017, which I chose as one of my favourite books of the year. The Ploughmen is a debut novel by Kim Zupan and deserves to be widely-known. Had I the funds, I’d buy the rights and turn it into a film, and the two-hander structure of the plot would be ideal for an up-and-coming actor to prove his skills, as well as revitalising the career of an established but overlooked actor…in the same way as Quentin Tarantino turned the spotlight back onto Pam Grier and Robert Forster with Jackie Brown.
In this way, I’m the opposite of the six-year-old reader, as I want more people to know about one of my favourite books.
What is your go-to story, your eternal favourite?
Which neglected title do you think deserves to be widely known?
