The trouble with second novels

Oh little picture for big book.

I've just read this. Thought it would be good research, for my book and for life. Essays in Love is an engrossing account of the start up and finish of a relationship in funny and excruciating detail, excruciating as it's so true and as he's a philosopher he cleverly links each phase to various philosophies.

I could go on, but you know what? My blog is too wordy, and it should be pithier. Maybe my novel should be too. The trouble with second novels is... no let me start elsewhere... the thing about having had your first novel published is, you know they chose it because there was something original that spoke to them, some spark in it that made it stand out from the masses and masses and masses of other ms, which are probably all perfectly readable but... so when it comes to the second novel, because the first was so original, this one can't possibly be! Does that make sense? I mean it's hard to find that originality in yourself again, because it was original, a one-off, so how can you do that twice? Also if you just write something in a similar vein to the first, then that's not original to the publisher then is it? And this is just what I do in my novel: I ruminate and over-explain and follow each thought to squeeze out every ounce of juice, except every ounce of juice is a cliche so then I might go back over that bit and try and think of something more original, but I can't be bothered for the blog. See what I mean?

David Izaak has done a great job on his blog gathering quotes from recently published writers about how they plan or don't plan what they are going to write. Check it out. Maybe we should do one for how people go about writing a second novel.

Blogs as would-be-novels/biography experiment

OK so the post below was a bit of an experiment. Did anyone see in the Sunday papers about that woman, Judith O'Reilly , who started a blog about her move to the country and it's become so popular (and is well-written I hasten to add) that she's got a publishing deal from it?
Is that why we write blogs now? If so I'm a bit embarrassed. I try and save my good stuff for my book (that's my excuse!) but maybe I should make the blog better as that may be read by more people than my book.

It got me thinking. Because my blog is true (mostly) and my book is fictional (mostly) and I keep a lot of stuff out of the blog, because although it's like a kind of diary, it is in the public domain so you have to think about upsetting or defaming people you may or may not know. So how does she do it? Her blog is very funny and very well-written and quirky, but all those weird and wonderful characters, can they be real? If they are and she's living in a village community then they are going to read her being funny and clever about them, especially now, as the blog has become so popular. So...oh I dunno.... what does anyone else think? I often write things in the blog then delete them, not wanting to offend, and like the posting below (all true by the way) what if both life coach guy and mysterious woman read the blog, would that be too mean about them? Would they take offence? Or am I merely envious that this woman has dared and got away with it and a got book deal out of it too. Good on 'er if she can. Or does she make it all up? Either way she can still write.

I've blagged a swanky car for six weeks!

I think I must have a trustworthy face. It was such a lovely day here Saturday, all sunshine and reasonably warm, very warm for Feb, so I decided to sod the re-writing and take the car out for a spin up the coast, with the top down (on the car, not me!) I went to this pub on the left, The Anchor, where I'll probably be ending my book. It's at Walberswick, and Mackintosh stayed there for while, so it was all in the interests of research.

A guy I don't know that well, but met on moving here, (he's a life coach writer type) is off to Oz for six weeks and asked me to keep an eye on his car and his house. I'm sat in his house at the moment updating this. My feet are a bit cold as the heating isn't on, so there's a limit to my cheekiness. Anyway, I always thought his car was a bit wanky actually: soft top, personalised number plate, uses tons of petrol, everyone looks at you. Why? I know we all like a bit of attention, but Jeeeezuz! Just so not me... she says from her vantage point on the moral high ground, but that was before I drove it, and that was before I had the top down and before whizzing down the coast in the sunshine. I LOVE IT! For a bit, not forever! WheeeeeeeeeeeeyHeeeey!

There's a mysterious older woman I keep bumping into in Aldeburgh. She very spiritual, very serious, into essences, and vibrations and energies and stuff. She always seems a bit lost and sad really, but I keep bumping into her, so I wonder if it means something! Anyway, I was just setting off in the wanky car, a bit nervously, when I heard a bang, uh-oh, something's dropped off it, I thought, so I pulled over to check, and who should be on the pavement, but the mysterious woman. She looked completely taken aback to see me, and until now probably thought I was part of the alternative arty/green crowd. I checked out the car. It was fine, just the exhaust backfiring or something (girls and cars eh?). Anyway, I asked her if she wanted to come with me, thinking she'd go: "Moi? In that thing? Do you know what that will do to my sensitive inner vibrations? Never mind if anyone spots me. Get outa here and don't speak to me ever again." But she just went: "Can I? Are you sure I won't cramp your style?"

"You Babe, no babe," I replied, "hop in and I'll put the top down." We just chortled and laughed and I've never seen her laugh before, her face was transformed. It was such fun!

I need to get out more. And in that car!

The Beginner's Guide to Rewriting

Does anyone else do this? Send your last but one draft (hopefully) out to people for comments? It's an odd process where you get wildly differing opinions, but the ones to watch are when you hear several comments not exactly the same, but harping on at the same thing, such as people are having a bit of trouble with my main man Nick. Some men say he's a bit gushing (for a man) and bit introspective (for a man) and some women say he's a bit horrible (to her) and not good enough (for her) and rubbish in bed so what's she see in him?! I am writing male first person for half of the book, and if I'm honest I felt he was a bit inconsistent, so I think I agree that this is where most of the work has to be. I was trying to write a real man rather than some silly chick-lit fantasy one, but like Frankenstein he needs a bit more work.

However, I also sent it to one bloke, a friend, who only had time to read the beginning section. I think he read four chapters and hated it. He was almost vitriolic. The thing about this is I wonder now whether you/I/we should send work to friends. I had to look deep in my soul (not too far!) and work out which of his comments had a ring of truth and where I might be feeling defensive. And yeah he helped me realise that the book really begins at what was Chapter 3, as that's when he could work out what the story was going to be about. And he was right. The book is better for it, and I'm pleased, but still there's a bit of me that thinks some of his other comments were just a bit out of line, such as about my voice, my style, my funny bits, which weren't in his eyes.

The weird thing about this is my book, about to be called The Beginner's Guide to the Art of Love, Life and Mackintosh or A Picture of Veronica is, on one level, exploring whether men and women are really that different, and before you all choke, what I mean by that is that the differences between us are actually less than the similarities. I mean underneath don't all human beings want the same things? To love and be loved? Be understood? Try and keep our vulnerabilities safe? Yet now the very book I'm writing has only exposed to me the huge differences between what men see and what women see... or has it? There's also a lot of stuff in the book about the theory of whether most women are empathisers and most men are systemisers, so that would explain the different feedback. Then again, another big thing of mine is that we are all individuals, so three men and three women reading a rather dodgy draft of my novel do not a scientific sample make... thoughts anyone?

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh books and stuff

So there's new stuff happening at Macmillan, most of which I don't understand, but can only be good I guess as Will at Macmillan New Writing says: "It seems apt that an imprint which specialises in new writing should be leading the way with this new technology." All our books are now available to download as e books whatever they are.

I should also point out Selfish Jean is now available in America & Canada from selected websites, though how this or the e book thing will translate to sales I've no idea, but if you are from over the pond try these places: HBFenn and Trafalgar Square Books. Spread the word!

I remembered this as I had an email, via my website, today from some church in America asking if they could put on one of my old plays. I was rather taken aback as the play is called Spunk and is full of swearing and a lot of rather sexy scenes, albeit both funny and moving, I hasten to add. I've tried to put them off, as it's either a joke, or they have misunderstood, but I'll keep you posted on that one!

And the pictures? I'm off to Spain again. The night time one is Avila. I'm going in May to try out this volunteer programme thing. I get a week's free board and lodging in a 4 star hotel in exchange for speaking English to Spanish business people. They always need more blood, so even my Yorkshire accent is acceptable. After that I have about a week free in Spain where I may return to Cuenca (the other picture) which features heavily in Selfish Jean, including my favourite hotel there. Then I'll get the boat over to Ibiza to meet a couple of friends. I guess I'll look like my old aunty dancing in a crimplene dress and Scholl sandals in an Ibiza club...

Now I need to stop blogging and get re-writing. Ta-ta for now!

It's all sex, food and philosophy

Hey guess what? I've been reading Chick-Lit.

The cover gives it away: all pink and girly and scrolly and telling you it's your personal invitation to Paris. It is quite fun, very well written, not surprising as Kate Muir is a journalist. It flows and it's funny and sexy and smart, but oh so shallow. Even when it tries to get a little darker and a little deeper, it just feels false.

I did want to like it as it tries to tell Paris like it is: great food and adultery seem to be everyone's priority. It's about tall, handsome, philosopher Olivier Malin and his gorgoeus filmstar wife Madison and the shallow lives they lead till they get a bit of a comeuppance. The more genuine character is supposedly the half English, half French nanny who turns up to look after their daughter, and the philospher falls for her. Quelle surprise! But why does he have to be tall and gorgeous and trim and 44? And why does she have to be short and gamine with a silky bob and a tiny waist, despite being able to eat anything she likes and 23? OK I know it's just fantasy, but come on! It's cleverly structured between all the main character's narratives, so you get all their viewpoints and that makes it fair, so there's no real hero or heroine and I did like the fact the ending isn't as easy and glossy as I thought it would turn out to be, though perhaps a little anti-men or at least anti-Parisian men!

I tried, and I did read it quickly. It kept me turning the page, but as I've said before if you look up from finishing a book and the world is still the same place, it doesn't really do it for me. I mean there were references to philosphy in there, and there were suggestions that the couple were a kind of modern day Sartre/ De Beauvoir couple (if only!) but only in a very surface way. I should perhaps judge a book like this by its cover and see it as a virtual escape to Paris for a brief while, but as it's not the real trip, this book is soon forgotten.

Seeds Of Greatness

I’ve just read this book. Really enjoyed its laugh-out-loud humour, a thing many books aren’t, even when they’re supposed to be. This one is, every few pages or so, with several cheeky grins in between as well.

So what’s about? Well there’s what it’s supposed to be about and what I really think it’s about. Two boys grow up in London, one becomes a celebrity and the other doesn’t. However, they kind of keep in touch. When the celebrity Jack Harris dies, Dave, his rather dull, polite, nice old mate is commissioned to write the safe biography. But he just can’t do it, and ends up writing about himself as much as Jack, and the bits about Jack aren’t all that complimentary. I’ll tell you what I really think it’s about in a minute.

Because the only reason I was reading it was because this writer lives in Aldeburgh where I have moved to. A new friend of mine, who’s an old friend of his, lent me the book as she thought our styles were quite similar, which is rather too kind of her (to me), because his funny bits are much, much funnier than mine, and my darker bits are much, much darker than his. Around the middle of the book, I stopped reading, because I was beginning to suspect it was just a string of very funny sketches tentatively linked – not surprising as Jon Canter was (maybe still is) a scriptwriter for TV and radio comedy – However, I took it up again this week, and am glad I did as it really developed with some great characters that I began to get fond of… Jess the girlfriend and her family for instance, who are both touching and batty. I even liked celebrity Jack in an odd way, and there are so many funny moments it’s hard to pick one out, but the Harry Potter one was a real laugh-out-loud moment for me.

Anyway, so what do I think it’s really about? Alter egos. How we love and hate them, how our alter egos may be people we think we’d like to be, but the reality would be unbearable. In this case that we’d actually all rather like to be successful, rich celebrities, but it’s more like wanting a disease or being addicted to a drug in reality.
This book, through Dave’s eyes, just observes and lets the readers reach their own conclusions. Mine is that Dave and Jack are one and the same person, and that the writer has been wrestling with his own demons whilst living on the fringes of celebrity, wanting to be part of it, and wanting to reject it also. I won’t give away the ending though, as there is a bit of a surprise, but at the very end, the bit after the surprise, I had hoped that Dave might want to go back to a life of normality and obscurity, but he can’t quite let it go. Maybe that’s more truthful in a way. It was still one of those books where you look up from the page and the world has changed and shifted a bit and I like that.

Anyway, to bring it all back to me, well it’s my blog after all innit?

You see as I was reading this, this writer began to feel a bit like an alter ego of mine.
Because I couldn’t help comparing, and maybe it’s because there is a bit of similarity in our styles:

1.Our hardback novels were published on the same dates last year.
2.His is bigger and fatter than mine, but costs the same
3. His has quotes on the back from Richard E. Grant, Tony Parsons, Arabella Weir. Mine doesn’t. Not even quotes from nobodies.
4.He lives in a proper house in Aldeburgh with a nice family. I live in a Wendy house in some rich person’s garden on the edge of aforesaid town.
5. The paperback version of his book is being published in May this year…. I still await a decision on mine, probably because they are waiting for second novel to see what I can do.
7.He is writing his second novel. So am I, but I bet he has an advance.
8.He has probably sold more hardbacks than me.
9.He is funnier than me.

You see what I mean when you start this? Not that I’m at all twitter and bisted. If I had the same MNW contract offered me all over again I’d take it because it’s a way in, but boy do I have an uphill climb to get anywhere, even just making any money.

And don’t get me wrong I’m not complaining, because I know there are a lot of people out there who I might be the alter ego for:

1. A major publisher picked up my first novel. Their's hasn't been.
2. I live at the seaside. They don’t.
3. I have no responsibilities whatsoever. They do.
4. They have to work in a corn plaster factory. I don’t. (Not yet!)

Everything seems to hinge on this second novel doesn’t it? It does feel worse than getting the first one done. Then, I had no expectations of failure. It didn’t matter. Now I’ve had a glimpse of my new writerly life, I don’t want to let it go, and maybe that’s what’s at the heart of Seeds of Greatness too. A love hate relationship with success and fortune. Read it. It’s fun.