Tuesday, 7 September 2010

Reworking the novel - day 2

So, I've fallen at the first hurdle. Failed to blog yesterday as I spent the evening editing a short story for a friend. A very good short story, I'm pleased to say, and one which needed only a tweak here and there rather than some kind of root and branch hacking.

Anyway, the rewriting. I started yesterday morning with a huge brick of 412 typescript pages sitting on the dining room table. The structural element of the rewrite is going to consist, largely, of deciding what elements of the first 75 pages are really essential and deciding how to weave them in elsewhere in a felicitous manner.

Reading those first 75 pages again, I recalled a recent post on Nicola Morgan's blog that contained this advice on editing:

  • Shorten chapters, unless they are already stupidly short. Alter the places where they begin and end so that they usually end mid-action. Give every chapter a knife-edge beginning and ending. Do not let your reader stop reading.

  • Remove much more description than you want to.

  • Ditto with back-story, philosophy, scene setting and world building. Just because you know it, doesn't mean the reader needs it. Think iceberg.

  • Remove at least two of the first five chapters. Just do it. See what happens.

  • Remove all your favourite sentences.

Now, for me, some of those are a bit extreme. The last one, specifically. But, in general, I take her point. Self-indulgent writing is no good to anybody and will just be flicked past, if the book is read at all.

My chapters are already pretty short but, as she advises, I'm not sure all of the first six need to be there. Ms Morgan would undoubtedly dismiss chunks of them as world building/back story/scene setting. Can I remove two? Yes, though bits of them will need to turn up elsewhere.

She's right about description. I like a well-turned phrase as much as (probably more than) the next reader but if the description goes on too long, however exquisite it is, I find myself skipping to the next salient bit. So I've always favoured the 'key but telling details' in terms of description. Less is very definitely more.

So, what do I have at the end of my first day of reworking?

  • Five paperclipped chapters with bits of text highlighted and 'put this in when/after/before...'

  • A completely reworked first chapter.

  • A mild feeling of having ended up with a ball of string composed of five different strands which I now have to untangle into a single thread.

As AL Kennedy would say, Onwards!


Later: Not sure why the font changes halfway through that post - sorry!

Sunday, 5 September 2010

I'm back!

So, the A levels were got through to everybody's satisfaction and the results were all that was hoped for. (Phew!) The novel was finished – later than anticipated but still in time to take time off with my Other Half and have some holiday. And now the summer holidays are over and, though I am back at school part time with my autistic young men, I have no children at school. This, after sixteen years of everything associated with having school-aged children is quite a shock. No more bleary-eyed teenagers at breakfast. No more soccer/hockey/cricket kit to wash. No more 'can you sign this form it's got to be in today?'. No more fetching and carrying from practices, rehearsals, school social events. No more stopping work at four thirty to stand about in the kitchen watching them make sandwiches and – if I'm lucky – tell me the edited highlights of their day.

The times they are definitely a-changing.

Today, I printed out the novel. The Black and the White. Well, let's be honest, it's still actually the work in progress; tomorrow the re-writing begins. I have a snag-list to address and a suggestion from a prospective agent which will see me completely re-structuring the first quarter of the novel. It's the old 'if I were you I wouldn't start it here' thing. Or, more accurately, in a book which – if it were a play – could be summed up as a two-hander, the rather less-often heard 'you need to get the second character in more quickly' thing.

I knew that right from the beginning. If anybody had asked me what the book's main flaw was, I would have 'fessed up to needing Protagonist No 2 in more quickly. Thing was, I just couldn't see how to do it without marooning the reader in the middle of the story and requiring industrial quantities of flashback. Not an option.

But I think I see how to do it, now. And I also think it'll make the book stronger and not just because the main character gets his antagonist sooner.

I shall be posting (see below) about how the re-writing is going but I thought I'd just say a few things, first, about the experience of not blogging for the last few months.

My last blog was posted on the 14th of April – almost five months ago. Initially, it was a relief not to have to find something cogent to say once or twice a week; like many bloggers, after two and a half years of regular posting, I had found that the blog had become something of a millstone. I applied myself to the book and to making sure that everything was on track for the A-levels and resolved to keep my head out of the blogosphere.

I quickly missed it - not so much my own blog, however, as those of other people. Initially, it had seemed like a good idea to stop reading other people's blogs as well as to stop updating mine – just to keep clear of the online world altogether. It can be, as we all know, a monumental drain on time which could more profitably be spent on the work in progress.

But I had underestimated the water-cooler effect. That's how I described keeping a blog (and commenting on the blogs of others) to somebody once, as the equivalent of water-cooler conversation at work. Writers being somewhat isolated as a profession, we need somewhere to chew the fat with people in the same line of work. So, I quickly abandoned the 'no blogosphere' approach and started reading other people's blogs again.

It has seemed like an unfair bargain. I get to read their comments, thoughts, observations etc but I'm not reciprocating. Ok, so I'm responding to what they have had to say, but it's not the same thing. It's like eavesdropping on other people's conversations and never bothering to start an interesting one of your own.

So, with thanks to all those of you whose blogs I have been eavesdropping on and who have been solicitous after the welfare of the work in progress, I am beginning another season of blogging. And, as I'm coming back to the blog at a very specific point in the journey through my book, I thought I might experiment with actually keeping a proper blog – a weblog, a day-by-day account.

So, if I can manage it, I shall try and post something about how the re-writing is going each day.

Watch this space.

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

And a longer break...

Hi everybody!

After much thought, I've decided to take a break from regular blogging for a little while.

There are two reasons for this - the current novel which is beginning to need all my attention as I head into the last section and my younger son's A-levels which are the main reason why the novel can't have all my attention.

So, brain space for blogging is limited and even thinking about it has begun to be oppressive so I think the best thing is if I make a conscious decision to stop until the book's done and exam season is over.

Thanks, all of you, for your support - keep your fingers crossed for me and see you anon.

Wednesday, 31 March 2010

Easter break


I'm going to be away for a week or so over Easter to see the Boat Race in London and to visit my parents in Wales so I shall wish you all a peaceful, sun- and primrose-filled holiday (keeping all fingers crossed for a change in the weather) and see you at the end of next week sometime.

Happy Easter!


Saturday, 27 March 2010

Writing rules

I'm a big fan of the Guardian Books blog and never more than today, where there is a digest of many, many famous writers' rules for writing. They make for interesting, and potentially helpful reading.

Friday, 26 March 2010

Publicity and the Author

Publicity – it seems to be the talk of all the authors I know at the moment and an awful lot of those I don't. How much publishers are or aren't doing, how much we should be doing as authors, how much difference the right kind of publicity makes, debates about what the right kind of publicity actually is... etc.

I have no idea whether publishers really are doing less publicity for their authors than they were wont to do but, perhaps, in our YouTube culture, we are all aware of how much more we could (and therefore feel we should) be doing for ourselves. After all, it's our book, our livelihood (or some portion thereof) we should be at least as keen as any publicist to see it do well.

This article appeared on the net a fortnight or so ago (thanks to Eliza Graham for the link) and makes some interesting points. I was particularly interested in this one:

In the run of things though there should be honesty and collaboration between author and publisher. A collaboration of equals where the author cannot any longer wait at the end of a phone for the publicist to call with an itinerary. They really do need to be out there helping themselves. This is not an abdication, just a fact of life.

Well, it may be a fact of life but it's not necessarily as simple as just going out and doing some publicity, is it?

Most of us aren't marketing professionals – we don't necessarily have the aptitude or the knowledge to organise our own events. Book tours and signings are rarely any use to the unknown as nobody is going to come and see somebody they've never heard of and events other than these need some imagination and inspiration. And turning imagination and inspiration into publicity events is a very different thing from turning them into books.

So much for aptitude. Then there's the time element. If you're an author who has a day job then taking off a lot of time to publicise your book may simply not be feasible. Bosses who are prepared to wave you off for a month's book-tour are few and far between. Normally they say things like 'that'll be the whole of your annual leave for this year then.' If you're any kind of professional you're even more constrained – you need not to do things which might bring your profession into disrepute or ridicule. If you were a doctor, for instance, your hospital or PCT wouldn't necessarily be vastly keen on seeing pictures in the press of you bungee jumping off a local landmark with the name of your book stretched along the length the bungee cord or dropping primroses along the length of the M25 so as to get on the national news hugging your book. Teachers could expect even more stick for being seen to be in the public eye – after all most kids are amazed to see you in the supermarket, never mind in the newspaper or on the television.

And, even if you are in the fortunate position of not having to support yourself and/or your family by gainful employment other than literature, taking a lot of time to 'do' publicity is still problemmatic. I mean, when are you going to write the next book? Because, if this one's a success, your publisher certainly isn't going to want to wait an indefinite period for the next.

Which leaves us all exhausted and hoping for the thirty-six hour day to be invented (and our body clocks adjusted accordingly) sometime in the alarmingly near future.

While I'm on the subject of publicity, can I point you in the direction of Natasha Solomons' website. She is in the process of organising her own publicity tour for her very intriguing-sounding book, Mr Rosenblum's List. I am impressed and it's making me think about publicity for The Black and The White – a book that isn't even finished yet.


Sunday, 14 March 2010

In praise of the semi-colon.

I love the semi-colon; I freely admit it. I love the fact that I know how and when (and when not) to use it. But even I have been struck by how often I find myself using it in my current book; and that has started me thinking about the voice of my central character.

Clearly, the use of the semi-colon implies that he qualifies what he says a lot, that he's keen to back up his assertions, that he makes sure that we know what he's talking about. He's not a self-confident character but he has pretensions to being a thinking person.

And this got me thinking - what grammatical devices would other kinds of character use?

The gossip – parentheses (constantly remembering and inserting extraneous information) and lots of double inverted commas (reporting what other people 'honestly said'!!) And exclamation marks.

The bully – imperatives, statements, challenging questions. What do you mean, no they don't? Of course they do.

The chronically uncertain person – ellipsis.... probably. Because they don't want to impose.... they're not quite... sure...

The person who can't shut up – sentences strung together with and and but and then and so and because and if and when and so on and so on.

OK, your turn...

Thursday, 11 March 2010

More on e-readers.

Just in case anybody was getting really into the whole 'green or not green?' debate about e-readers, I came across this today on the Guardian books blog which sheds a little more light (and asks more questions) on the subject.

Sunday, 7 March 2010

The great e-book debate reaches HB

E-books. I've been galvanised into writing about them because Frances Garrood has put up a post on the subject over on her blog but it's something I've been thinking about, on and off, since Testament was published and Panmac acquired the rights to sell it electronically as well as in physical form. I have no idea how many e-versions of Testament have been sold (if any at all) maybe I'll find out in my royalty statement at the end of the month.

I've never had any objection in principle to e-books. I quite like technology and e-readers have an aesthetic all of their own – granted, it's a very different aesthetic to that of a print book but there is an aesthetic, nonetheless. In fact, I've been waiting for Apple to produce an e-reader and am slightly disappointed that they seem to think that the iPad is it. Since it uses the same backlit screen technology as every other laptop and phone, it's qualitatively different (and, in this respect, inferior ) to the dedicated e-readers, whose screens look like paper and need to be lit by ambient light, just like an ordinary book.

I also have no objection to not having a physical book in my hand. Hardbacks are heavy and lots of paperbacks are tiresome to hold open unless you can break the spine, so just holding an almost weightless e-reader is a pleasant change.

Then there's the issue of space. We live in an averagely sized terraced house and there are books in every room, not excepting the bathroom where they seem to congregate however hard I send them away. I think we're at shelf-capacity now, and we have to prune our books regularly, to the benefit of the local Oxfam bookshop. If we lived in a smaller house, or a flat, a houseboat or a caravan, housing physical books would be a nightmare. For everybody who lives in a confined space (and more and more people do) e-books must be a godsend. You can own hundreds of titles that take up no space but the electronic variety.

So, on grounds aesthetic, manual and spatial, e-books are winning

The green issue seemed like a no-brainer – all that processing of paper, printing, binding and shipping that wasn't going on with e-readers - until I heard a radio documentary about the energy required to keep central servers (essential for all this downloading) running. Suddenly e-readers' green credentials didn't seem quite so verdant.

And then there's the piracy issue. If e-books are going to be ripped off in the same way that music has been, that's going to be very bad news for writers.

I used to assume that, whatever people of my generation thought, physical books would begin to lose ground to e-books with time as the next generation – used to doing everything onscreen – would automatically gravitate in their direction. But my eighteen-year-old son tells me that this isn't necessarily so. Precisely because they spend all the rest of their time with electronic screens, he says, his generation escapes into real books when they want a break. Even as I type, he is sitting and doing exactly that.

So maybe e-books and print books will continue to exist side-by-side, with those for whom space is an issue pragmatically choosing e-books and those of us who think a house isn't furnished unless it's got books on every wall continuing to favour physical books, unless we do a lot of travelling or want a lighter option for holidays and train-commuting.

Or is there some determining factor I've not thought of?

Monday, 1 March 2010

Fiona Robyn's Blogsplash

In case you're wondering whether you've come to the right blog, don't worry, I'm taking part in Fiona Robyn's Blogsplash to introduce her new novel, Thaw. I don't know Fiona but I'm intrigued by her work and even more intrigued by this idea for promoting her work. She has two other novels in publication which you can find here.
Anyway, let me introduce Fiona, who is, in her turn, introducing her main character, Ruth:

Meet Ruth. She doesn't know if she wants to carry on living or not, and she gives herself three months to decide. Her diary is Fiona Robyn's new novel, Thaw, and you can read it for FREE, beginning today.

Now, over to Ruth.

These hands are ninety-three years old. They belong to Charlotte Marie Bradley Miller. She was so frail that her grand-daughter had to carry her onto the set to take this photo. It's a close-up. Her emaciated arms emerge from the top corners of the photo and the background is black, maybe velvet, as if we're being protected from seeing the strings. One wrist rests on the other, and her fingers hang loose, close together, a pair of folded wings. And you can see her insides.

The bones of her knuckles bulge out of the skin, which sags like plastic that has melted in the sun and is dripping off her, wrinkling and folding. Her veins look as though they're stuck to the outside of her hands. They're a colour that's difficult to describe: blue, but also silver, green; her blood runs through them, close to the surface. The book says she died shortly after they took this picture. Did she even get to see it? Maybe it was the last beautiful thing she left in the world.

I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to carry on living. I'm giving myself three months of this journal to decide. You might think that sounds melodramatic, but I don't think I'm alone in wondering whether it's all worth it. I've seen the look in people's eyes. Stiff suits travelling to work, morning after morning, on the cramped and humid tube. Tarted-up girls and gangs of boys reeking of aftershave, reeling on the pavements on a Friday night, trying to mop up the dreariness of their week with one desperate, fake-happy night. I've heard the weary grief in my dad's voice.

So where do I start with all this? What do you want to know about me? I'm Ruth White, thirty-two years old, going on a hundred. I live alone with no boyfriend and no cat in a tiny flat in central London. In fact, I had a non-relationship with a man at work, Dan, for seven years. I'm sitting in my bedroom-cum-living room right now, looking up every so often at the thin rain slanting across a flat grey sky. I work in a city hospital lab as a microbiologist. My dad is an accountant and lives with his sensible second wife Julie, in a sensible second home. Mother finished dying when I was fourteen, three years after her first diagnosis. What else? What else is there?

Charlotte Marie Bradley Miller. I looked at her hands for twelve minutes. It was odd describing what I was seeing in words. Usually the picture just sits inside my head and I swish it around like tasting wine. I have huge books all over my flat - books you have to take in both hands to lift. I've had the photo habit for years. Mother bought me my first book, black and white landscapes by Ansel Adams. When she got really ill, I used to take it to bed with me and look at it for hours, concentrating on the huge trees, the still water, the never-ending skies. I suppose it helped me think about something other than what was happening. I learned to focus on one photo at a time rather than flicking from scene to scene in search of something to hold me. If I concentrate, then everything stands still. Although I use them to escape the world, I also think they bring me closer to it. I've still got that book. When I take it out, I handle the pages as though they might flake into dust.

Mother used to write a journal. When I was small, I sat by her bed in the early mornings on a hard chair and looked at her face as her pen spat out sentences in short bursts. I imagined what she might have been writing about - princesses dressed in star-patterned silk, talking horses, adventures with pirates. More likely she was writing about what she was going to cook for dinner and how irritating Dad's snoring was.

I've always wanted to write my own journal, and this is my chance. Maybe my last chance. The idea is that every night for three months, I'll take one of these heavy sheets of pure white paper, rough under my fingertips, and fill it up on both sides. If my suicide note is nearly a hundred pages long, then no-one can accuse me of not thinking it through. No-one can say, 'It makes no sense; she was a polite, cheerful girl, had everything to live for,' before adding that I did keep myself to myself. It'll all be here. I'm using a silver fountain pen with purple ink. A bit flamboyant for me, I know. I need these idiosyncratic rituals; they hold things in place. Like the way I make tea, squeezing the tea-bag three times, the exact amount of milk, seven stirs. My writing is small and neat; I'm striping the paper. I'm near the bottom of the page now. Only ninety-one more days to go before I'm allowed to make my decision. That's it for today. It's begun.
You can continue reading here.

I'd be very interested to hear what others think of this innovative way of reaching new readers.

Friday, 26 February 2010

The Three Living and The Three Dead

Apologies to any regular readers that I still have left for being dilatory with my posting recently – the Black and the White really is occupying most of my available brain space at the moment (well, that and half term last week...)

In my last post I promised – if anybody was interested – to talk about the medieval story of the three living and the three dead. Well, there was at least one taker (thanks, David!) so here we go.

Before I start, I must give all the credit for this post to one of the most wonderful websites I have discovered in my medieval research. It's called Medieval Wall Painting in the English Parish Church and is an encyclopaedic collection of thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth century wall paintings. It's run by Anne Marshall, a retired associate lecturer with the Open University.

The website is brilliant because it's simple, informative and organised. All the examples of particular themes – everything from the familiar story of Christ's passion (ie Easter) to the more obscure St Eloi shoeing the possessed horse – are bracketed together so that you can see the different artists' and different centuries' treatment of the same subjects.

Anyway, here's what the site has to say about the three living and the three dead.

The subject is French or Flemish in origin and is first heard of at the Court of Flanders in the late 13th century, where it is the subject of five poems, Les Trois Mortes et les Trois Vifs . Three kings went out hunting (in the poems they are specifically described as young) and came across three corpses who castigated them for their preoccupation with pleasure and with wordly things, adding ominous words to the effect that ‘as you are, we once were; as we are, so shall you be’. Paintings of the subject on walls and in manuscripts followed, and the subject soon came to England, where it proved equally popular. 
Quite a few paintings of the subject survive in the English Parish Church. There is clearly a good deal of scope for imaginative narrative treatment of the story, and many paintings show fine clothes, elegantly caparisoned horses, dogs, hawks and a variety of flora and fauna. Sometimes there are speech-scrolls, with a version of the text quoted above (Wensley, now featured here, is a case in point). The Three Dead, needless to say, are painted in more or less gruesome detail - some are skeletons, some have flesh and skin visibly peeling from them, along with flies and other signs of mortal decay - Wensley’s remarkable example is again a case in point. This (the fifteenth century in particular) was after all an age of elaborate funerary and tomb sculpture - much of which survives - often rendered in similarly unsparing fashion.

Whether all this says something about a particular taste for the morbid in the later Middle Ages is debatable. The Black Death, the devastating effects of which had been felt in England as elsewhere in the decades after 1350 may have had something to do with the popularity of subjects like the Three Living and the Three Dead.

You can see pictures of the subject here, here, here, here and here.

Do have a look at the rest of the site to see what medieval churches would have looked like (though you do have to imagine all the colours unfaded). I think one of the biggest misconceptions about the medieval world was that all their stone buildings were grey and austere and bleak. No, that's just how they've come down to us - it's we who feel that bare stone is somehow more spiritual – but then we modern people are heirs of the Puritan reformation which taught us that ornamentation was bad and simplicity was good. The medieval world wouldn't have agreed at all!

Sunday, 14 February 2010

When WAS the fourteenth century?

When I tell people that my current novel is set in the medieval period, they will often say something like 'Oh, I love the medieval period, it's fascinating'. And it is, I'm not arguing with that. But I'm never quite brave enough, then, to go on and find out exactly what they mean by 'the medieval period'. Wikipedia – repository of all instant knowledge - defines it as covering a period from the fifth century to the beginning of the sixteenth century. In other words, a millennium that includes the Dark Ages. I think that's a bit broad, myself and would probably have the medieval period beginning somewhere about the reign of Alfred the Great in the mid-ninth century, though others prefer to refer to anything prior to 1066 as The Anglo-Saxon period and to see the medieval period in England as the years between Conquest and Tudors. Fair enough.

But, even if you limit it to the period 1066 to 1485, the medieval period still totals 419 years, which makes research for the historical novelist quite tricky. I mean, life was very different in 1066 and 1485. OK, not as different as between 1485 and 419 years later in 1904, but still, very different.

Even when you narrow things down to the century I'm interested in - the fourteenth - things get very little easier. As I've mentioned before, the fourteenth century was an eventful, happening time and to assume that things in 1400 would look anything like those in 1301 would be a big mistake.

Most of all, the century is hard for the historical novelist (and, by the same token, wonderful) because of the HUGE event that sits bang smack in the midlde of it. 1348 -1350 - The Black Death. It changed pretty well everything, some things immediately, some things slowly. But it changed them. And if you try and research the fourteenth century so that you can get your historical details right, it's sometimes very difficult to find out which bit of the fourteenth century people are talking about.

For instance, I've done a certain amount of research into medieval church wall paintings. Now, there are, sadly, few mural works left in medieval parish churches because of the iconoclasm of the Reformation. What's left was whitewashed or plastered over and is, therefore, not always in the greatest nick. However, conservators all over the country are conserving and writing about the examples that are left and their work is invaluable to people like me. The trouble is, because of the poor condition of the paintings, they can't always say when, exactly, they were painted.

So, when I read - in a reliable source - that it was widely believed 'in the fourteenth century' that to see an image of St Christopher would keep you from dying a sudden death that day, I was delighted. (Clearly, I'm easily pleased.) Surely, I thought, everybody who was afraid of dying of the plague (ie everybody who was alive) would be buying up St Christopher medals and painting images of the saint on their church walls like nobody's business, wouldn't they?

It seemed like a sensible assumption until further (a lot further) research revealed that this belief seems to have come about as a result of the Black Death and that, therefore, those remedies were not immediately available at the time of the Black Death. Most of the surviving St Christopher wall paintings seem to be late fourteenth or fifteenth century. They wouldn't have been there for people to look at while the plague was raging, they were there as a prophylactic, should the plague return.

So the nice device of having people relying on the fact that they wouldn't die that day because they'd taken the trouble to go and look at St Christopher carrying the Christ-child across the river was a goner. As was a point of contact between my characters and my readers – after all, most people know who St Christopher is; they're likely to be far less familiar with the story of the Three Living and the Three Dead which every medieval parishionner would have known. (I'll tell you another time if you're interested.)

And, though I am interested in wall-paintings (as any reader of Testament will know) that's not why they make an appearance in the book. You couldn't possibly have a character walk into a church in the period before the mid 1540s without knowing that the plastered walls of any parish church would be covered in paintings. Our austere way with bare stone was unknown to medieval people and they would have found it incredibly barren and unhelpful. Their religion was very different to anything practised in Britain now. And not just different but bigger. Much bigger. Bigger than most of us can possibly imagine; as big a social factor (though not in the same way) as Islam is in, for example, modern Iran or Saudi Arabia. And, of course, for 'religion' think Roman Catholicism, the only brand of Christianity then flourishing in Western Europe.

But any unwary novelist who assumes that medieval catholicism can be mapped straight on to pre-second vatican council Roman Catholicism is going to get things wrong.

Take a small example. The hail Mary. Even non-Catholics, like me, know that this goes:

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen

As such, with its references to the hour of one's own death – which was pretty much in the forefront of everybody's mind during the Black Death – it seems to be the perfect prayer for my main character to be muttering pretty constantly.

Except that more detailed research reveals that the second part of the prayer was only added in the late fifteenth century, almost a hundred and fifty years after the Black Death.

Drat; another point of contact with modern readers gone.

So many things changed as a result of the Black Death – the value of labour, the standard of living, the status of English, the respect people gave to the church, the relationship between the land and the towns, the feudal system – that the early and late fourteenth centuries turn out to be very different times. People literally thought differently about life after it. Not immediately, of course, but the outlook and world-view of the generation that was born after 1348 is different in many ways to that born, for instance in 1308.

The unwary historical novelist has to tease all this out. Every reference to things 'in the fourteenth century' have to be explored, teased out, evaluated and pinned down to exactly WHEN in the fourteenth century. Otherwise, the howlers generated would be as bad as having a hip and trendy character putting a record on the gramophone in the year 1999, while they smoked their medically endorsed cigarette from a chic ivory holder.

Friday, 5 February 2010

Me and My Opinions...

I seem to be playing away a lot at the moment. Many thanks, once again, to Norm Geras who has asked me to appear in the Friday Normblog Profile. If you're interested in my views on such diverse topics as philosophies to be disseminated (or not) and who I'd ideally invite to dinner, you can find out here.

Saturday, 30 January 2010

Medieval Women as Master Craftsmen

Often, when speak to groups about Testament, the same question will arise: 'Would Gwyneth really have been able to be a master craftsman in her own right?'

It's an interesting and valid question but it does seem to be based, as most of the askers are prepared to admit, on preconceptions of a time about which people know very little. Even if medieval history is taught in schools it will mostly consist of political history – the Norman Conquest, the civil war between Stephen and Matilda, the Hundred Years War with France, the Wars of the Roses. Social history doesn't get a look-in. And the fourteenth century was probably the century in which English people experienced the greatest social upheavals until the dawn of the industrial age.

Given this dearth of social history teaching, a general assumption seems to exist that the role and position of women started out, at some stage in pre-history, as a species of semi-slavery and proceeded, by excruciatingly slow historical degrees, to the equality of rights and opportunities that exists in the twenty-first century. On this thesis, if women were given few rights in the sixteenth-century Tudor period (a period most people seem more familiar with, though, again, I would suggest that their preconceptions come, largely, from the experience of noblewomen rather than those lower in social status) then it follows that they must have enjoyed even fewer rights in the fourteenth century.

This is a false assumption. Women were far less constrained in many ways in the medieval period and - certainly, in terms of labour and the workplace – the lower the woman's social class, the less constrained she was. In terms of work on the land, there is a certain amount of controversy about whether women (I'm not going to use the term peasant but you can if you like) were allowed to do things like wield a scythe because there is no pictorial evidence for this and a good proportion of our evidence for life on the land comes from pictures, as well as manorial records. However, women certainly did work in the fields and the poorer your family, the more likely the women were to have to work – there was no choice, the land had to be worked and if you didn't have enough men and boys, the women got roped in.

This wasn't just the case on the land, either. In the craft guilds, the need for cheap labour made family involvement a must and all the children of a family would have been expected to help; unless there was an abundance of sons, daughters would get at least the rudiments of their father's craft. Obviously, the expectation was that, once a girl was married, her job was to look after her husband and children but, before she were married, her help could be vital to the family economy. Unless her husband was a particularly high-ranking guildsman (and therefore rich enough to employ lots of people) he would also be likely to expect her to help him at times of need. If a woman was widowed young, she might very well carry on her husband's trade after his death because, frankly, otherwise she and her children would starve.

I think people tend to forget that, in the pre-modern period, what you did for your 'living' meant exactly that: if you didn't work, you didn't earn money, you couldn't afford to eat and therefore you didn't continue living. What you did – your profession or job – was, literally, your living.

But, back to women. If a woman was widowed on the land, she might, if she was very lucky, be taken in by a member of her extended family. More likely, she would be expected to marry again or manage the land on her own or with her sons' help. In the towns, where many people of Gwyneth's generation didn't have family because they were first-generation immigrants following the Black Death, there was nobody to step in and look after you so you had to marry again or work. And if you had the means at your disposal to work at a trade or profession, then you did that.

It wasn't a lifestyle choice, it was a necessity.

Admittedly, there was not this compulsion in Gwyneth's case but her working for Simon has to be seen against this background of economic necessity.

The fourteenth century is also a very interesting time in terms of female roles because, in the wake of the cataclysm that was the Black Death, opportunities didn't so much knock as come in through the door and drag you out to the workplace kicking and screaming 'but I want to be in the kitchen!' The workforce had been reduced by anything from a third to a half and anybody who had a marketable skill found themselves in a seller's market. Gwyneth is approaching forty when Testament opens in 1385. This means that she survived the Black Death as a child of four and that she grew up in a world that lacked an abundance of skilled people.

Gwyneth's backstory, as anybody who has read the first chapter of Testament carefully will know, is that she was raised by her father as an only child. He taught her his skills as a master carpenter because he had no other children and because he was worried, in that rather uncertain time, about how she might make ends meet if he died suddenly. And, don't forget, people did die suddenly. Quite apart from the astonishing violence of society and the fact that you could die (from septicaemia) of a casual cut or (from gangrene) of a broken limb there were recurrences of the plague throughout the 1360's, most notably in 1361 and then, again, in 1369.

I'm not saying that female master craftsmen were common. They weren't. A women practicing a craft independently was an exceptional circumstance and I known of no evidence, anywhere, of a woman who was recognised and accepted by an English town guild as a master craftsman in her own right. Gwyneth's father explicitly says this: 'They may not see you a master, Gwyneth, who can tell in these times? But the craft may be meat and drink to you.' (p.4)

So, what the novel catalogues is a chain of events which is unlikely but not impossible (and it is a novel, remember, a book that asks 'what if..?'.) Gwyneth, a child at the time of the population-decimating Black Death survives as her widower father's only child and is, therefore, taught his trade. He, in the absence of readily-available apprentices because of the labour shortage following the plague, is happy to rely on her home-grown talents. She marries a man who has professional need of the skills she possesses and, as his wife, her skills come free which is no small consideration to a man making his way in the world. She continues to be able to work with him as their marriage progresses because she has failed to conceive. Simon is not in the king's favour so the pool of carpenters he can draw from is never going to contain the real stars of the day but, fortunately for him, his wife possesses the kind of talent he needs. Their son is born damaged and this, together with Simon's association with heresy, further reinforces their professional isolation. Simon makes it quite clear to Gwyneth (and the reader) that, without her as his master carpenter, the college simply will not be built. As it is to be their son's memorial, she cannot refuse.

It all comes back to fathers and their children; to Gwyneth's father who has passed on all his skills to her; to Simon's father whose forthrightness to a king has denied Simon the royal patronage and name-making work he craves; to Simon and his desire for a son and the consequences of that desire.



Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Catch me elsewhere...

The lovely Norm Geras of the Normblog runs a Writer's Choice feature every Tuesday in which an author chooses a book that means something specific to them or their work.

He very kindly asked me if I would contribute something so I have written a piece on Geraldine Brooks' wonderful Year of Wonders.

You can read it here.

Monday, 25 January 2010

Cornflower book group

As I may have mentioned, Testament was the Cornflower blog's book group read this month and generated a certain number of comments which you can read here if you're so minded...

Many thanks to the group for all their comments and for picking Testament in the first place. (For which I have the inestimable Juxtabook to thank.)


Friday, 22 January 2010

A really nice review

Thanks to Google alerts, I came home from work yesterday to read this on the Shelflove book blog. I don't often come across readers who prefer the contemporary strand of Testament, so it was nice to read Teresa's opinion on this in the comments trail.

I understand that some better-known book bloggers - Dove Grey Reader, for instance - are now being quoted alongside print reviewers on book jackets. They are also inundated with review copies of new novels and I notice that, on the Shelflove site, co-bloggers Jenny and Teresa make it clear that publishers are welcome to send review copies.

So, has the day of the independent, amateur book blogger come - are they now becoming as influential as print reviewers where readers (as opposed to the literary establishment) are concerned? The comments on this post would certainly suggest that they are.

Do others have a similar experience?

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

A Waterstone's Volte Face

Has everybody heard - I've literally only just picked it up from the booktrade update Book2Book (subscribe here) - that Waterstone's is abandoning its central command-and-control model and going back to 'localised' bookselling practices as Tim Waterstone initially set out to do with his shops?

You can read about it here.

What about that then, readers and writers?

Saturday, 16 January 2010

Creating a Blog Splash

Writers are always looking for new ways to get their books noticed, to generate an audience and the word-of-mouth buzz I was talking about in my previous post. I'm guessing the fact that you're reading this means that you may have a blog of your own whether you're a writer, reader, bookseller, publisher or other person involved in the whole business of books.

Author and blogger Fiona Robyn (author of The Letters and The Blue Handbag) has come up with an innovative idea to generate publicity for her new novel Thaw. Starting on the 1st of March next year she's going to blog it so that peole can read it, free, online. The novel follows 32 year old Ruth’s diary over three months as she decides whether or not to carry on living.

To help spread the word she’s organising a Blogsplash, where blogs, including mine, will publish the first page of Ruth’s diary simultaneously (and a link to the blog).


I think it's a really innovative idea. Not only does it generate reader traffic for her blog (and those of the others involved) but it's using the blog network to give people access to the new novel rather than relying on readers' (notoriously subjective) reviews after the book is published.


She’s aiming to get 1000 blogs involved – if you’d be interested in joining in, email her at fiona@fionarobyn.com or find out more information at http://www.fionarobyn.com/thawblogsplash.htm.




Monday, 11 January 2010

Recommendations and Word of Mouth Successes

One of the things all writers want is for their book to become a word of mouth success – not to be depedent on the vagaries of marketing and publicity but simply to have written a book so amazing that everybody is recommending it to their friends.

The internet, of course, means that there are other ways of generating a word of mouth success. Because I have a Google alert set up to tell me when anybody mentions my name online, I came across Fiction Forum on Amazon where people can share their favourites and their opinions with others and where people can ask questions about those of similar tastes. The page I was directed to was this one on 'time-slip' novels. Which, when I read the comments by Kesali and I Readalot, was a pleasant surprise.

Older, more traditional media are also getting in on the act. Mariella Frostrup hosts a Radio 4 programme called Open Book which has a section called The Reading Clinic. A couple of weeks ago a listener wrote in to say that he had very much enjoyed Ian Mortimer's A Time Traveller's Guide to the Middle Ages and would like to read fiction from the same period. Could Ms Frostrup's guests offer any advice?

Interestingly, from the point of view of somebody who has also read Mr Mortimer's excellent book (subtitled A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century) and who is writing a book very firmly based in the fourteenth century (ie me) there seemed to be little recommendable adult fiction set in the medieval period and written in English. Umberto Eco's novels were - of course – highly recommended (though it's astonishingly difficult to find the name/s of his highly talented translator/s) and I was introduced to the works of George Mackay Brown but, other than that, the novels the panel were keen on were mostly children's books by Kevin Crossley-Holland and German author Lilli Thal (whose work is translated by John Brownjon).

Looking at the list (follow the link above) I can't help wondering about the prejudices of the panellists. I mean, can you seriously make recommendations about current medieval fiction without even mentioning Karen Maitland's Company of Liars and Owl Killers?

Anyway, there are two ways of looking at the apparent dearth of medieval fiction from my point of view as the writer of a book set during in the Black Death.

One: Hooray! This is a niche that is crying out to be filled, bring it on!

Two: Bugger, there's no demand for fiction set in this period, I'm on to a loser.

Does anybody have any other recommendations or feelings about this market?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After posting this, my lovely editor, Will, sent me a link to this article in the Telegraph. I think I know the answer - it's One above. Hooray!