Monday, 3 October 2011

Sophie Hannah - The Lichfield Festival

It's funny how things turn out. Yesterday, instead of running a half marathon in Coventry as planned, I was sitting in a rather elegant room in The George Hotel in Lichfield listening to Sophie Hannah talk about her new novel, Lasting Damage. I hope there won't be any lasting damage to my foot, after the marathon training in the summer. The injury meant that I had to defer my entry for The Coventry Half Marathon until next year.

This was Sophie's third visit to the Lichfield Festival and we were told she'd driven from Cambridge that morning. Sophie told us she was going to give us 'the gossip behind the book', her sixth psychological novel. Her first, Little Face, was published in 2006.

The idea for Lasting Damage came to Sophie in early 2009 when she was in the process of trying to move house from West Yorkshire to Cambridge. She'd been Fellow Commoner In Creative Arts at Cambridge University some time before and had fallen in love with the city. The reason for her move to West Yorkshire was her husband's job, which he was all too happy to give up, now that Sophie's writing career had taken off.

In the process of looking at houses for sale in the Cambridge area, Sophie became hooked on the Right Move website and knew the floor plans for every house for sale in Cambridgeshire. She even got dinner party guests to challenge her to match any floor plan with the property in question. It was because of her addiction to property websites that the idea for Lasting Damage came about.

Lying in bed at 1.30am, waiting for her husband to fall asleep, Sophie had the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. She realised she hadn't looked at the Right Move website in the last 24 hours and a new property might have been listed. There was no time to lose! She might miss the house of her dreams. Careful not to wake her husband, she crept down to the office in the dark and opened up the laptop. Her heart was racing. It was like sneaking off to chat to a secret lover on a social network site. Sophie was well aware that her slightly mad compulsion would make an excellent beginning for a novel. Obviously, her character would need a better reason for behaving this way.

Connie, as her character became known, has been stalking a particular house for some time. The reader doesn't know why. In the middle of looking through the virtual tour of 11 Bentley Grove, Connie sees a dead woman lying in a pool of blood in the lounge. She rushes to wake her husband, Kit, but when he looks at the virtual tour, which has been playing in a loop, there is no dead body. Kit doesn't believe Connie saw it. There is no evidence to suggest there was a dead woman on the website and when Connie contacts the police, they don't believe her either.

Sophie said it took her six months from the initial idea to work out exactly what was going on and how the photo of the dead woman got to be on the website for the few seconds that Connie was looking at it. She said she was determined to make the plot work and one day the whole story came to her. I must admit I was intrigued, so downloaded the novel onto my Kindle. In the meantime, I decided I'd try and work it out for myself and then go back to read the novel to see if I was right!

Of all the novels she's written, Sophie said she enjoyed writing this one the most, as she loves houses. Sophie found a house in Cambridge eventually and now lives there, but she still looks at the Right Move website most days. She justifies her addiction by saying that it's research. She even had to put an estate agent's floor plan at the beginning of Lasting Damage. It is the floor plan of a real house that was for sale, and she says she's waiting for the owner to read her book and recognise it and for them to email her. She promised that if this happened, she'd give the owner of the house signed copies of all her books.

I found it interesting when Sophie spoke about the theme of this book and of all her books - that the biggest threat to someone's sanity and/or safety comes from someone close to them. According to psychiatrists, 99% of the extremely disturbed people they see, are like that as a result of the behaviour of someone close to them. Connie's lasting damage is a result of her psychologically nightmarish parents.

Sophie told us that her publishers deliberately didn't market her first novel as crime. There wasn't a black cover; the title wasn't typical of a crime novel title. Sophie likes to think of her books as more literary than traditional crime, yet believes she is the same type of writer as Agatha Christie, because she has the ability to tell a good story. She admires Christie for her 'brilliant plots' and says, like Christie, that she is 'desperate to find out' what happens in an 'apparently impossible scenario'. Sophie derided the traditional formulaic crime novel. However, her novels follow a set structure. She has a female viewpoint character who is 'having a terrible time' and uses first person present for her heroine. She uses third person viewpoint for her 'police procedural' scenes.

One of Sophie's detectives, bullying Inspector Proust, is based entirely on a real person whom she doesn't like very much. She quotes this person's dialogue directly onto the page, but isn't afraid that he will read her books, as he doesn't like crime.

I asked Sophie whether she started writing while mulling over her plot. No, she said, once she had the plot worked out, she wrote a plan and stuck to it. She has to be in control of her characters and that writing for her isn't necessarily an organic process. I think this shows in her rather clipped and spare writing style. From what I've read so far, I feel her novels lack depth and atmosphere. However, that is personal preference and I know some readers enjoy racing ahead to find out what happens, rather than luxuriating in wonderful writing and characters you fall in love with.

It was interesting to hear how a fellow crime writer works. I've now learned that it's a case of 'each to their own' and that there isn't a right way or a wrong way of approaching the novel. We each have to work out what is the best way for us; mostly by trial and error. I no longer try to copy another writer's methods and finally have faith that my way will get me there in the end.

I had a wonderfully enjoyable hour after the talk, walking around Lichfield, which I used to visit regularly when I lived in the area nearly fifteen years ago. It brought back some lovely memories and it was interesting to see how much the city had changed in that time. It's well worth a visit.

Thursday, 22 September 2011

I Got A Kindle For My Birthday!

I received a Kindle for my birthday yesterday. I love it! Much more than I thought I would. So far the biggest advantage over a book is that you can lie it flat, so that you can read while eating, typing at the computer or peeling the veg! I also like the fact that some books are a lot cheaper to buy and all your fiction is in one place. Like Rosemary, it's great to read a Kindle in bed (I recommend getting a case with a light fitted). So good on holiday, when you may not take the 'real' books you're in the mood for. With the Kindle you can browse and buy while you're away. Of course, the Kindle takes up much less space in a bag or suitcase than several books would. I also like the fact you can transfer your own work-in-progress on to it. 


I will continue to read and buy 'real' books, because I love the way they look, smell and feel. I have hundreds of books on my shelves, many unread, and I'm not going to abandon them.


And the first thing I downloaded on to my Kindle? A novel by Penny Feeny, who is a regular contributor to The Yellow Room and who also wrote many stories for QWF. It's a good read so far!


I'd love to hear your thoughts on this wonderful little gadget!

Saturday, 17 September 2011

Clifton Hall and The Novel!

Clifton Hall After Restoration
Clifton Hall Before Restoration
Interior of Clifton Hall Before Restoration
Interior of Clifton Hall After Restoration

Clifton Hall (see photos above) has always fascinated me. As a child, I could see it from my bedroom window at the top of Chestnut Lane in Clifton Campville. It had been a ruin for many years, so it was wonderful to see it restored to its former glory at the beginning of this century! Richard Blunt has done an amazing job. He very kindly emailed me a stack of photos of Clifton Hall before and after the renovation work. 

The Hall features in my novel, under a slightly different name. I had no idea what it looked like inside, having never even got close to the building. I simply used my imagination. So, it was rather spooky to see the photos of the interior yesterday and realising that the rooms were just how I imagined them to be! 

I'm now working on the final draft of the novel and want to try and secure an agent for it by Christmas (ever the optimist!). 

The new Short Story Clinic is going well and I have lots of paid editing work to do. I’m just about to start proofreading stories for Issue 7 of The Yellow Room.

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

Lacking Focus

Do you ever get those days when you can't settle to anything for very long and you can't decide what it is you need to do first? I can't stand those sort of days and I get them often.

My mind is jabbering away in the background, nagging me and reminding me of all those jobs that need to be done. I just want to put my hands over my ears and yell, Stop!

I made sure I did some writing first thing, however. Once the children had got off to school, I printed off a list of flash prompts and wrote straight onto screen for about half an hour, using most of the prompts on the page. It felt very much like joining the dots. I enjoyed it, though, and produced just over 1,000 words of reasonable prose. Quite what its use will be, who knows?

I did a little bit of Yellow Room admin (the competition entries are gradually trickling in), but was niggled by the thought of having to go to town and do some grocery shopping (boo, hiss!). I thought I'd get this over and done with, and really wish I'd sat at my computer for longer.

I have several writing projects on the go, as well as some paid editing work to do (four short stories), competition entries to read, the next Yellow Room to prepare for typesetting and some reading for research (we won't mention the massive ironing pile and the general state of the house and garden!). The writing projects are bothering me, as I feel I really should be focusing on one thing at a time instead of hopping about between the novel, the pocket novel, stories for competitions, preparing stories for The Scott Prize anthology competition and writing stories for the women's magazines. I flit between each project like a demented butterfly and don't feel as if I'm giving any of them my best shot.

And breathe.......

Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Back to School!

It felt good waving my children off to school this morning. Both of them seemed rather excited at the prospect of a new school year. Megan starts Year 5 at primary and Matt starts Sixth Form.

It was bliss to walk back into an empty house! I love solitude, I have to confess. I went straight to the Mac and began thrashing out a new short story aimed at the women's magazine market. I've recently been encouraged by the Fiction Editor at People's Friend, after she wanted to see a rewrite of a story of mine she was very keen on. I've also been plugging away at my pocket novel set during The Blitz in London. Thank goodness I've almost finished it!

I tend to write in short sharp bursts. I can manage about 1,000 words in half an hour before I stall and need a break. I envy those writers who can keep ploughing on regardless and who can sit at their computers for a 12 hour stretch. I get restless after about an hour.

I've noticed that I get stuck in a scene very easily. With the pocket novel, I've learned that I have to make a character walk out or switch to a new scene when this happens. I somehow feel I have to resolve each scene before moving on, but of course fiction doesn't work like that. I can leave two characters in a room without any resolution being reached. I think I'm finally learning how to leave a scene 'hanging' or 'suspended in the ether'.

On the running front, things aren't too dire. I managed to do just over 4 miles today. My foot hurt at the beginning and I felt I was hobbling a bit towards the end, but the middle bit was fine! I've been doing my plantar fascia exercises and they do seem to help.

Oh look, it's nearly school pick-up time. Where did the hours go? Oh well, I can do it all again tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that. Phew!

Thursday, 18 August 2011

Running Injury and Writing Competition Success

This isn't a photo of me running (I wish!). In fact, I won't be running for a few days due to plantar fasciitis , which I appear to have developed over the past couple of weeks. I've been getting pain in my heel after a run, and it's always much worse first thing in the morning getting out of bed. Just lately it's been getting worse and today I haven't been able to put weight on my left foot. I've been limping my way around all day and my foot is swollen. 


This condition is a big blow, as it will spoil my training for the Coventry Half Marathon, which takes place the first weekend in October. I was due to do a 10 mile run tomorrow morning, but have had to cancel that and rest. I guess I have been doing too much, too soon. Until the middle of July I was running 3-4 miles about 3-4 times a week. Then I did a 6 mile on 22nd July and the following week 7 miles, then 8 miles, then 9 last week. In between I was doing two 5-6 mile runs. Clearly I overdid it. 


My writing has been going slightly better, thank goodness. I entered the Write-Invite Competition for the first time last week. It was nerve-wracking, as the competition is live. You wait until the clock on the site shows 5.30pm (every Saturday evening), then pay your entry fee via Paypal, choose one of three themes, then write your piece in the space provided on the website. You have until 6pm that same evening to complete your story, add a title, edit and proofread. I was sweating profusely by 5.55pm! Once your entry has been sent, you wait until the following Wednesday at 5.30pm when the shortlist is posted. The participants then have to vote on the top three stories. I'm delighted to announce that my story was in the top three! I was over the moon, as it's the first short story competition I've entered in about two years. The overall winner receives £50, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed! 


The beauty of this competition and the main reason I entered is that you are under pressure to write a complete short story in a short space of time. This really focuses the mind. It works for me, because I have great difficulty in starting writing each day. I knew that by 6pm on Saturday I'd have a more or less complete short story that I could then go on to expand and edit, if I wished to do so. 


I've been reading William Trevor's collection of short stories for the past couple of weeks. I read one, maybe two each day. I recommend every writer of short stories to read his work, if they haven't already done so. I have learned so much. Not every story is to my taste, but I love his attention to detail. His characters are so well drawn and we discover things about them they didn't know themselves. 


Tomorrow I'm off to Lincolnshire for the weekend with my nine-year-old daughter. Wish me luck!

Thursday, 11 August 2011

Sally Quilford's 48 Birthday Bash

Today is Sally Quilford's 48th birthday. She is a writer I admire, if only for the thousands of words she manages to bash out day-in, day-out. I wish I were half as prolific. So, today I felt I had to take part in her Birthday Bash, by bashing out a story on the theme of 48, as have many of her blogging friends.

Please excuse the poor quality, but I wrote it in about half an hour while the kids were occupied!



48 CRASH
My mum thinks you’re hot!
I wish Ria wouldn’t put her whole life on Facebook. I can’t make an innocent comment these days without the whole world knowing about it. Frankly, it’s more than embarrassing; it’s humiliating.
And yes, for the record I do think he’s hot. 
Adam. A few years over the age of consent, but young enough to be my son, which is why I’m beating myself up about even thinking such a thing.
He’s got the hands of a man and the face of a little boy blue.
No, that’s not another of Ria’s status updates. It’s the line of a song that’s stormed into my middle-aged brain like a lightning flash. 
48 Crash come like a lightning flash.
I’m going to be plagued by Suzi Quatro’s lyrics all day, I can tell. Perhaps going for a run will help. It might be my 48th birthday tomorrow, but I can still run 6 miles three times a week and not be out of breath. Mind you, I’m worried about my knees. And my ankles, come to that. They’re not going to put up with pounding the pavements for much longer.
And, as I run those damn lyrics are tearing their way through my head in time with my feet. 
And the 48 Crash is a silk sash bash.
That’s the other problem with running any sort of reasonable distance at my age - your bladder objects to the constant bouncing up and down and you get the urge to go about three miles in. Fortunately, I’ve found the perfect spot behind a bank of topsoil and shaded by trees. That doesn’t stop me thinking there’s someone out there who can see me. Someone who knows my routine. Still, at my age I don’t care. Comfort is the most important thing.
And then just as I’m pulling up my running shorts, I see the car. It’s one of those little foreign hatchbacks. A boy racer car. Bright yellow. 
It’s him.
I feel my face turning puce. Yes, I know it was pretty red to start with.
He can’t see me from the road, obviously, but just the thought of what I’ve been doing when he’s just a few hundred yards away is enough to make the humiliation creep in once again.
And you’re so blind you could find that your motor ain’t ready to go.
Damn lyrics again! And my motor is more than ready to go, thank you very much. I speed up for the last three miles just to prove it and it’s possible he’ll drive past me again. I want him to be impressed that Ria’s mum still has it in her, even though she’s edging towards fifty.
I shudder. I can’t face that yet. Not fifty.
In my head I’m still dancing as sexily as I can manage, emulating ‘Cherry’ off Pans People, while T-Rex’s Hot Love grooves out from the record deck at the youth club disco.
Russell had a bright yellow Ford Capri. A Mark One Capri with a 3 litre engine. Goodness knows how he could afford to insure it, even in those days. 
He had black hair, cornflower blue eyes and wore denim button-fly flares which fitted very tightly across his slim hips. Fab!
You’re so young, you’re a hot shot sun of a gun.
Those are the lyrics repeating in my head as I run the last few hundred yards towards home. 
Adam. Russell. Russell. Adam. 
They merge into one. Similar colouring, similar car. 
Russell was the older guy, buying me an illegal half pint of cider and bringing it to me in the beer garden of The Robin Hood. It tasted potent, yet refreshing; the bubbles fizzing up my nose.
“Fancy a spin?” he’d said afterwards.
I don’t remember the crash. I just remember the thrill of being driven too fast; the car stereo blasting Jeepster and the gorgeous dark-haired hunk beside me. It happened just after he turned to look at me; his deep blue eyes promising things that sent a shiver through me, even though I was too young to know what those things really were.
I was lucky, they said. A good job I was wearing a seat belt. And what was I doing in that young tearaway’s car anyway? We always knew he’d come to a bad end, they said.
Adam. You could hardly call him a tearaway. Geeky Freak, Ria calls him. He’s clever; a talented musician with an angelic voice. And he’s a bit odd, I admit. Mad about Doctor Who and Lord of the Rings
“And he even has a life-size cardboard tardis in his bedroom, Mum.”
How sweet; how endearing. And I remember who I really am. 
You’re so young, but like a hang up I’ll be sad when you’re old and you’re gone.
Suzi’s lyrics remind me that I’m a responsible middle-aged mum. And I like being a mum, feeding my teenage daughter’s crazy friends with homemade cake and pizza.
I head off for the shower. Washing away the years and the memories for now. 
Crash, Crash, 48 Crash.
© Jo Derrick, 2011