In real life, it’s sometimes true love and the one that got away, which inspires great writing. John Keats immortalised Fanny Brawne, in love letters and sonnets. Shakespeare often referred to a ‘Dark Lady’ and a ‘Fair Youth’ in 154 love sonnets, who are thought to be a noted prostitute of the time, and a gay lover, meaning the bard was bisexual.
Scott Fitzgerald used his wife Zelda as the basis for several characters, also nicking parts of her diary to use in his novels! W. B. Yeats’ poetry is full of unrequited love for Maud Gonne. The main characters of Pride and Prejudice are based on Jane Austen’s affair with Tom Lefroy, a lawyer who went on to become a politician and Lord Chief Justice of Ireland.
More recently, Bob Dylan was inspired by his wife Sara Lowndes, penning one of his best albumsBlood On The Tracks when they broke up.
Leonard Cohen died in 2016, but aware of his own frail health, wrote a moving farewell to his dying muse Marianne Ihlen—who inspired the songsSo Long, Marianne and Bird On A Wire.
There’s a strange form of sexism when it comes to muses, for male writers are said to be inspired by the women they loved as if something in their psyche is reflected by the liaison, whereas few female writers are identified as having their work lifted up by the men they gave their hearts to.
I’ve dedicated several love poems to old girlfriends, who inspired happy memories. A recurring character in my Cornish Detective novels is an American photographer, called Mish Stewart, who is based on my camera-toting friend of the same name—with her permission.
While in the early stages of writing the last book in the series, which is set in the art colony of Saint Ives, Lizzy, a friend in Birkenhead unexpectedly sent me some art books. One was about an Austrian-New Zealand painter called Hundertwasser, who was new to me, but whose colourful paintings were ideal for my plot. I dedicated the story to my friend Lizzy.
Who has been your muse?
Have you dedicated any stories to loved ones?
Do you have any famous writers’ portraits on your wall, to act as inspiration?
I haven’t ever heard of anyone praying for divine inspiration from the patron saint of writers and journalists, Saint Francis de Sales, but I’d hazard a guess that authors ask his boss, God, for help—or seek it in alcohol.
When we talk to God, we’re praying. When God talks to us, we’re schizophrenic.
Some writers rely on a mascot for solace, keeping it nearby when they’re working. As we’re advised to develop a hide as thick as a rhinoceros, to cope with criticism and rejection, little plastic models and stuffed rhino toys are popular.
Whatever deity or muse you seek creative inspiration from, it’s still syphoned through your inner psyche as an author—and you’ve got the hard work of actually interpreting your ideas in words.
I refer to a folder of quotes, aphorisms and poems that I’ve collected over the years when I’m in need of a boost to my fortitude. Observations such as this from Andre Dubus IIIhelp to keep me going:
I think what I love most (about writing) is that feeling that you really nailed something. I rarely feel it with a whole piece, but sometimes with a line you feel that you really captured what it is that you had inside you and you got it out for a stranger to read, someone who may never love you or meet you, but he or she is going to get that experience from that line.
I recall the enjoyment that I got from reading Dennis Lehane, Barbara Kingsolver, Anne Hoffman and Michael Connelly and knuckle down to write something decent. Another way of motivating myself is to recall terrible writing, such as Jeffrey Archer or Dan Brown—this really lights a fire under me!
Do any of you send out prayers for inspiration?
Or, do you turn to famous writers as a way of recharging your own creative batteries?
Any story is instantly dated, by the time that it takes to proceed from being edited by the author, to going through queries with literary agents, then, if successful, more editing at a publisher. By the time marketing has been decided, a book cover designed and a launch date is chosen, it could be up to a couple of years after typing The End that the book hits the shelves.
The process is quicker if self-publishing, but if the plot is set in contemporary times, then events could still overtake the writing. It’s easy to modify the manuscript of an ebook, but doing so might lead you towards looking like a smart arse!
The first case in My Cornish Detective series is set in 2012, so Book 1 would be nine years in the past, should I be successful with querying this spring in securing a publishing deal. I try to avoid political references but had to mention Brexit, as Book 3 happens in 2016 when the referendum took place. The poverty of moorland farmers drove the crimes of murder and livestock rustling.
It doesn’t bother me too much, that the first story is dated, for not a lot has changed with policing since 2012, and anyway I wanted to show my protagonist’s story arc from being recently widowed, though depression and on to rebuilding his life and falling in love again.
In a way, the era of any story is irrelevant, provided the narrative is strong enough. I read several hardboiled detective novels last year, set in WW2, which was barely alluded to, other than how key witnesses were away fighting overseas.
Developments in technology obviously affect storytelling. I well understand why crime writers choose to set their tales before the 1990s, when computers, CCTV and smartphones became popular. Researching Big Brother and IT takes much of my time, which was why I set one novel on Bodmin Moor, to get away from surveillance and to have more face-to-face questioning of witnesses and suspects.
Not that penning Historical Fiction is easy. I’ve written two novellas set in the post-American Civil War era known as The Reconstruction, which required more research than any of my novels. It’s not just the historical facts I had to get right, but also the overall feel of the times, the social mores, prejudices and loyalties to make things feel authentic.
Although it requires complex world-building, writing Science Fiction and Fantasy starts to look attractive! But, I’m not sure I could keep a grip on an invented world, and with the one sci-fi story I wrote, set on Mars, new discoveries by the Exploration Rovers immediately made my tale obsolete. I wonder if the popularity of dystopian stories is rooted in not having to worry about dates, for everything is torn down with people forced to begin again.
No one wants to write fiction that quickly becomes dated, and one way to avoid doing so is to limit the use of transient slang and jargon. The same thing applies to references to modern culture, for what’s popular on television or on the internet now will swiftly fade from people’s memories—indeed, readers might wonder why your characters aren’t glued to the latest idiotic reality show.
Certainly, context is crucial. If your protagonist is gullible and hooked on trashy reality tv, mention it, but keep things generalised rather than naming specific shows. The same thing goes for identifying brands of food and drink, where the label might confer status in the here and now, but be irrelevant in ten years.
Some cultural references should be retained, to give a sense of time, but the strength of your story should come from characterisation rather than delineating your protagonist by their shopping lists.
Using dates in stories is one of the many dilemmas an author faces, but we’ll always be around. Going back to the Stone Age, people told stories, trying to make sense of the world around them as well as to entertain; nothing much has changed. As Ursula K. Le Guin observed:
Does good always prevail over evil? It would make for a boring tale, were the goodies successful at defeating the baddies every time, for one thing, we’re advised to do as writers, is to make our protagonists suffer, then make them suffer some more, to the point where they look doomed.
The best stories, that remain memorable, contain moral ambiguity. If the good guy has flaws, if they’ve taken a shortcut that’s illegal or reprehensible, it makes them more human. Character flaws in an otherwise strong hero create dramatic tension. Just think of Hamlet’s indecision and self-doubt, when he’s faced with how to avenge his father’s death.
Antiheroes are popular: James Bond, Holden Caulfield, Severus Snape, Othello, Harry Flashman, Scarlett O’Hara, Jay Gatsby, Philip Marlowe, Becky Sharp and Emma Bovary stand out because they’re not all good.
What about the ending of a story? Adult readers can handle ambiguity and disappointment better than children—and if your story is part of a series, it gives them something to look forward to. In one of my crime novels, the serial killer who my detective has been pursuing, and has finally cornered in a Neolithic burial chamber, suddenly disappears in a sinkhole. Seemingly buried beneath thousands of tons of soil and granite, I may reincarnate him in a later story. Wary of making my hero look like a sap, alienating the reader, I gave my copper a strange victory, for he revealed that one of the victims was killed by a second murderer.
With young children, it’s better to have a happy ending, for they’re vulnerable and after all, morality has been taught through stories from time immemorial. This is not to say, that baddies can’t be frightening and even fun.
It’s not just the moral correctness of a story that needs to be considered, for these days, the behaviour of authors is being scrutinised. Publishers are starting to get authors to sign morality clauses, absolving them of responsibility to continue to publish their client’s books, if the author behaves in a deplorable way.
This is potentially worrying, for what of the love lives of erotica writers? If a convicted murderer has gone straight since being released from prison, is it OK for him to pen accurate depictions of how to kill someone? Many famous writers from history were notoriously unstable and defiant of the law—their lack of political correctness made their books successful.
A publisher marketing how right-on, woke, unbiased, open-minded and kind to their parents, children and pets an author is, might help them gain entry into heaven, but there’s a danger that their clients will look like a bunch of goody-goodies whose books are bland and safe.
Reading should be stimulating and challenging, which sometimes means going near the edge of the cliff. Moral rectitude is off-putting.
I say ‘timely,’ for though the #MeToo movement is doing long overdue work to eradicate and punish sexual assault and harassment, any protest movement engenders excessively contrived propaganda—including fiction.
Hillary Kelly’s article made me wonder about which are my favourite bitches in novels…and how I’ve written about women with a dark side.
In books I’ve read, some of the most frightening women conform to the traits shown by the Wicked Queen in Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, in that they’re typical of how stepmother figures have been portrayed from the time of legends and fairy tales—insecure, jealous, controlling, self-absorbed and cunning.
I was reminded of this when I first watched Woody Allen’sAnnie Hall, in which he confesses his attraction to the Wicked Queen:
“You know, even as a kid I always went for the wrong woman. I think that’s my problem. When my mother took me to see Snow White, everyone fell in love with Snow White. I immediately fell for the Wicked Queen.” – Woody Allen.
She’s both menacing and attractive, which makes her even more malevolent. In a 2014 survey, one-third of the 2,000 adults polled named The Wicked Queen as ‘the scariest character of all time.’
It’s important to differentiate between strong characters and bitchy characters. A female character can be empowered with strength and wisdom, without being spiteful. Males who are nasty tend to get called ‘bastards’. Having said that, nowadays, the term ‘badass‘ is used to cover a multitude of mean-tempered belligerence.
In fiction, I’ve been intimidated/angered/entertained by the relentless ambition of Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind,the manipulative falsehoods of Amy Dunne in Gone Girl, the witchy despotism of Lady Macbeth, the worst book fan worship of Annie Wilkes in Misery, and the nutty religious fanaticism of Margaret White the mother of Carrie.
In my five crime novels, nine antagonists are male, while four are female. The bitchiest of them all is a foppish male art dealer, who despises everyone, revering paintings over people. One of the women is a serial killer, alongside her husband, taking hikers as food, while carrying out a campaign of retribution on people they consider to be sinners. She’s a horrifying figure because she’s a trained killer, inured to death from having fought in the Vietnam War and working for MI5 as an agent. In person, she’s shy and withdrawn, self-conscious of being scarred by Agent Orange….but, she’d stab you as soon as look at you…then butcher your corpse and cook you for Sunday roast dinner. In that way, she’s an evil bitch! I quite liked her.
My other three bad women include an ex-forces veteran, suffering with PTSD, a battered wife who kills her brute of a husband’s ex-lover, trying to set him up for a fall as the murderer, and a salty-mouthed ageing prostitute—who has a nice line in bitchy comments, scathing of men in general, but who’s a sweetheart deep down yearning for a quiet life by the sea. A friend, who acted as a reader for the story featuring the tart liked her withering put-downs, asking for me to bring her back in another story:
“She kept moving, putting a sashay into her walk, as his eyes were sure to be glued to her bum—men were all the same—they thought with their balls, pointed with their cocks and talked out of their arseholes.”
To keep my spirits up as 2018 morphed into 2019, I watched one of my favourite feel-good films—2001’s Amélie—it’s very French, charming, good-natured, funny and made with love.
My DVD came with an extra disk of bonus features, including an interview with the director, Jean-Pierre Jeunet. His previous film project was Alien Resurrection, which meant a long time in America shooting and editing, so he was glad to return to his home country. Casting around for what to do next, he wanted a change of pace, a “small movie” set in a Parisian neighbourhood with not too many actors.
Based on his experience in Hollywood, Jeunet used test screenings for his new project, which weren’t in common use in France in 2001. To his surprise, audiences and discussion groups loved the film. Instead of making a movie that appealed only to the French, he’d somehow tapped into a tale that moved audiences worldwide, and the foreign rights were sold for 45,000,000 francs.
This made me think about what appeals to me in storytelling. I like small stories, where the action takes place somewhere with a strong sense of location, featuring only a few characters. Sprawling epics with a large cast of players certainly have their place, though it can be tricky to convey the humanity of the participants. For me, the best parts of The Lord of The Rings saga are the scenes where the characters talk face to face about their love of home and their fears, not the huge battles or monstrous baddies gnashing their teeth.
As for much-touted High-Concept plots, the term immediately implies to me that the story is driven by a pitch that sizzles attractively, but the story itself might lack characterisation and any real meaning. I want to be in the characters’ heads, not marvelling at the twists and turns that confront passengers with snakes on a plane. Cheap thrills are OK up to a point, but I prefer something that feeds my soul. Small stories may be low-concept, but subtlety is nourishing.
Some of my favourite reads have been small stories set in a distinct place with characters melded with where they grew up. They’re novels that could be filmed without special effects.
Until I read this story, it hadn’t occurred to me that people were employed to recover drowning victims from fast-flowing rivers. Comparisons with James Dickey’s Deliverance are justified, not only for the location but also the themes of masculinity and honour that are mythological in their power.
I’ve praised this novel before, choosing it as one of my favourite reads of 2017. It’s one of the best small stories I’ve read containing an all-too-good hero and an implacably evil villain. Again, the protagonist is a rescuer/recoverer, finding travellers lost in the snow…while the antagonist, a contract killer, ensures people are lost to life forever.
This story would appeal to anyone who enjoyed John Williams’ Stoner, as not a lot happens, and when it does, it’s in a low-key way that’s hugely transformative. Just a man living his life as best he can, trying to do the right thing and sometimes failing.
Influential acting coach Stella Adler, in her book The Art Of Acting, said: “There are no small stories, only the actor makes them small.”
I’m inclined to think that the same thing is true of writers. Small stories can contain huge themes. Being small implies that there will be relationships that are developed, a certain intimacy that lures the reader into feeling something about what it means to be human.
A quality that Amélie and the three books I mentioned share, is that despite containing dark elements, there’s also positivity and even joy. I try to do the same thing with my Cornish Detective novels, where my protagonist decompresses the tension created by investigating horrific violence by painting watercolours, listening to music and creating a wild garden.
Are any of your favourite books small stories with huge messages?
Mark Twain popularisedthe phrase:“Thereare three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.”
It’s never been truer than when referring to authors’ incomes. Some of you may have seen the doom & gloom report from the Authors Guild in America, which claims that author income fell 42% from 2009 to 2018.
One of the problems with this sort of report is that it’s seized on by the media and publicised without comment or appraisal. The veracity of any survey depends on who is asked for their opinion. Thankfully, Nate Hoffelder has got his head screwed on right, and in his excellent Digital Reader blog, points out the inaccuracies of the methodology used by the Authors Guild: read the Comments at the bottom, in which the AG’s Executive Director responds and Nate Hoffelder replies.
Nate Hoffelder
If a survey is biased towards a certain age group or publishing method, then the results will be skewed. To add to the problems of getting an idea of what the real picture is with digital publishing vs traditional publishing, publishing a book on Amazon doesn’t require an ISBN and as they don’t report their sales figures, there’s no way of accurately knowing how many books are sold via the biggest book dealer in the world!
The only thing that’s certain, is that relying on book writing as a sole source of income is foolish. Even well-known authors who’ve won literary prizes need to work other jobs, often teaching university students about how to become a writer. The success stories of debut authors that the media like to print are wildly misleading, with mention of six–figure advances, film options and three book deals.
There are very few modern–day authors who’ve become millionaires. Perhaps it’s not surprising, though I still find it disturbing, that the wealth of authors closely reflects a society where 1% own 82% of the world’s money.
In the UK 1% of writers account for one–third of book sales.
My own approach to having a writing careerwas that I knew I was going to be in for a long slog, as I had much to learn, so I resigned myself to no income for several years. I’ve made less than $50 in ebook sales since 2013. I could make more money panning for gold in Cornwall’s streams…the county is riddled with old mines.
Long-term ambitions for any writer can only come to fruition with hard work, perseverance and a large amount of good luck. I recently saw a quote from W. Somerset Maugham which sums up my desire:
It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent.
This post promises to be the most controversial I’ve made, but let me state from the outset, that I’m glad all the prizes I mention exist.
Encouraging minorities to write and rewarding the best with a prize is a laudable thing. Just recently, a new prize was announced for women’s comic fiction. Called the Comedy Women In Printprize, contestants have to be unpublished and the winner will receive a contract with HarperCollins and an advance of £5,000.
There’s a plethora of competitions and prizes aimed at various minorities, including:
* Jhalak Prize—for Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic.
* Creative Future Literary Awards—for writers with mental health issues, disability, identity or other disadvantages social circumstances.
* Granta, the literary magazine, irregularly issues lists of the best young novelists— ignoring anyone over the age of 40 who’s just started writing.
For mature writers, there’s the Christopher Bland prize, to be awarded to a first novel or work of non-fiction published when the winner is 50 or older. Note the catch—you have to be already published. As ever, with these prizes, self-published books are excluded.
Christopher Bland
The world of literary prizes, and even lists of favourite books of the year, often looks like a closed shop to me, in that the same damned authors get selected. It appears to me, that it’s not so much that their writing is exemplary, more that they’re being chosen because of long-founded connections with other authors, publishers and journalists…the old boys’ network. It’s not as if books win prizes through ‘blind tastings’ is it? Think how rare it is for a novel to win an award that doesn’t feature on longlists and shortlists for other prizes; it’s the same with books of the year lists that appear in December.
One of the most egalitarian of prizes is The People’s Book Prize though that requires a book to be submitted by its publisher. If an unpublished author wants to get anywhere, there’s The People’s Book Awardswhich welcomes emerging and established authors. Books Are My Bag Readers Awardsare even more populist, being the only book award curated by bookshops and voted for by readers, but again it’s established authors who get the most votes.
Political correctness is peculiarly slanted, for no one is prepared to criticise how morally astute protestors and activists are being, even if they’re showing signs of prejudice themselves. Those who’ve been oppressed in some way can also be bigots.
I believe in having a level playing field, but that’s impossible. Because I’m male and Caucasian, I apparently represent an oppressive segment of society. Also, one that’s got it made…not in need of help or reward for my writing efforts through a specific award for my gender, race or age.
Imagine the reaction from politically correct people, if it was announced that a writing competition or literary prize was aimed solely at White Males! That would offend so many different groups, that I’m not even going to list them—yet, all would be in favour of such accolades for their own minority group.
Reverse discrimination is rarely mentioned, but there was an interesting example of it recently, from Sweden…where a rock festival was deemed to have been guilty of discrimination for excluding males.
“I hate political correctness because it turns you into a liar. People say what they think they’re meant to say.“
There’s nothing to be done about it, though, as political correctness is a weighty club.
I repeat I’m in favour of all of these competitions, prizes and cash awards targetting minority or special interest groups. In my working life and as a volunteer, I’ve interacted with disadvantaged children, the deaf, the blind, the autistic and dementia sufferers. I’ve been a marriage guidance counsellor and a rape crisis helpline volunteer and volunteered for the Crisis at Christmas homeless scheme.
Any competition or award is essentially a marketing tool, to attract attention to the books being promoted. That’s a good thing if we want more of the public to read…though, some of the prize-winning titles are not always easy reads so they might put people off.
I wonder if the increase in awards and competitions for minority groups is a backlash against the entrenched Caucasian middle class who run publishing…Try looking at literary agencies and publishers’ websites to find BAME, LGBT or disabled employees.
What do you think about the world of literary awards and writing competitions?
Have you ever entered a minority group writing contest?
I’ve been wondering about what makes a story a page-turner, about how readers become devotees of a particular author.
What prompted me to mull over readability, was a sticker on the cover of a crime paperback I borrowed from the library last week.Life Or Death by Michael Robotham has a sticker proclaiming LOVE IT OR YOUR MONEY BACK with a qualifier in small print around the edge advisingTo find out more and for T & Cs go to www.thecrimevault.com/exclusives/lifeordeath/
As a story, it’s capably written, with a couple of mysterious hooks that drag the reader in to make them want to know what happens. I wondered how many readers claimed their money back, for the guarantee had a four-month time limit from the date of publication in 2015.
Robotham started as a journalist, before becoming a successful ghostwriter of celebrities’ biographies. He shares traits in his writing style with other journalists whose crime novels I’ve read, mainly that he’s masterful at concision, of getting the action onto the page without flowery excess, but it lacks the warmth of involvement in his characters’ fates. It reads more like a film treatment, detailed notes for a script than a story told by a writer with the common touch. Instead of sitting alongside me describing what happens, Robotham’s voice sounds like the narrator of a True Crime documentary.
From the Cambridge Dictionary:
The Common Touch: the ability of an important or rich person to communicate well with and understand ordinary people.
When it comes to choosing a book to read, the author is an important person, even if not as wealthy as they should be! Having theability to communicate in a compelling way decides whether readers will like your story enough to read on. If you’ve touched them, they talk about your book and word of mouth promotion sells it in bestselling amounts.
‘The best moments in reading are when you come across something—a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things—which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours.‘
Such communicating with a reader is partly down to chance for a writer, but some authors have an amiability that is very attractive; I think, it’s one of the reasons for J. K. Rowling’s success.
We talk about influences on our writing, and for me, the main way that my style has been swayed is emulating the common touch of favourite authors such as Walter Mosley, Elmore Leonard, J. B. Priestley, Dennis Lehane, John Steinbeck, Somerset Maugham and Guy De Maupassant. There’s something about these authors where I feel like they’re on the same level as me…not talking down to me.
Being a companion to our readers is a strange thing for us to think about, but it’s the stance I consider when writing my Cornish Detective novels. I find it helps to imagine just one reader as I write, rather than attempting to appeal to the masses. Kurt Vonnegut put it well:
While editing a short story last night, as I went to check the hyphenation of a word, my own name Paul jumped out at me!
Chambers Dictionary lists Paul Pry as ‘a person who pries into other people’s business. [The eponymous character in John Poole’s play (1825)]‘
Intrigued, I investigated further. Wikipedia describes Paul Pry as: “a comical, idle, meddlesome and mischievous fellow consumed with curiosity.“
Well, that fits me!
I was christened Paul after my father, who was named after his father, who was named after his father, all of us with the name of a British king as a middle name…John, in my case.
Curiously enough, my mother used to tell inquisitive infant me “to stop prying” when I was being nosy about something, though I doubt she knew of a 19th-century play.
My surname of Whybrow is uncommon, though as I knew of a couple of writers called Whybrow, I experimented with the pen name of Augustus Devilheart when I first returned to creative writing. Marion Whybrow wrote art books and Ian Whybrow writes children’s books; neither are related to me. Using a pen name was too complicated for me, so I reverted to my birth name.
There’s a village near Penzance, Cornwall, called Paul. Whenever I’m overtaken with a fit of egomania, I imagine moving there and changing my name by deed poll, so that I’m Paul Paul of Paul House, Paul. (The men in white coats are coming to take me away).
Of Pauls in fiction, who I like, there’s Paul Atreides in the Frank Herbert’s Dune universe, Paul Sheldon in Stephen King’s Misery, Paul Morel in Sons and Lovers by D. H. Lawrence…and what of the Apostle Paul?
Does your name have any literary connotations?
Did an author take your name in vain with a fictional character?
