The Rights & Wrongs of Writing

August 18, 2021

A Day to myself

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A day to myself.

Today, having a rare day all to myself, thus far I have worked hard and still have several hours in which to write. So I am writing, and after all my worrying about whether or if I would or could, I find that writing has its own momentum and happens simply, without the angst, and perhaps because I decide it will: Note to self: Cure for writer’s block: Just decide to write and then start writing.

So I’m finally back to reading through my novels – YAY! – and after a year of leaving them lying almost fallow, I am delighted to read and review them slightly differently, happy to refine them further with refreshed eyes. It’s a pleasure to do so, and to trip through them with a clearer idea of why I’m writing and what I wish to say.

The relief of that reassurance – that when I have a day to myself, I can write, and that there is still life in my work that feels meaningful to me, after all – is immense and most encouraging, knowing now that I can work hard when the occasion presents itself. I know without having to remind myself, that the opportunity to write and edit is always beneficial.

Perhaps if I had realised and truly understood this sooner, I would have spared myself a lot of rumbling anxiety of the sort that hovers in the background and occasionally bursts through in moments of self-doubt. Increasingly, I realise that everything we do has its time and place. And occasionally, this means that fallow periods in the field of writing are meant to arrive and stay with us, to allow us to rest and regroup, learning differently and coming back to our work with fresh perspectives. It’s no use constantly working at the hewing and chopping of wood: sometimes we need to leave things be, to allow them to grow in peace.

Thanks for reading.

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August 4, 2021

In times of trouble

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In times of trouble

In times of trouble, what do I do? I retrench, engage in lots of quick-fire displacement activity – my favourites include clearing out the kitchen cupboards and throwing out ‘stuff’ – and like a magpie I shop for small things and think about judicious hoarding of essentials – brown rice, favourite wholemeal pasta, a carton or two of long-life milk for emergencies.

And speaking personally, when I’m stressed, I read as though my life depends on it: novels, non-fiction and just about anything I can get my hands on. Some others might use that sense of urgency and gentle panic to write; and I might, too, were it not for the dozens of excuses that crowd my brain: it’s the holidays, my family are around, I don’t feel like it, I can’t settle… As the author Winifred Watson – in the preface to the new ‘Persphone’ edition to her novel “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” – told her interviewer, “You can’t write when you’re never alone”.  

Original ‘Persphone’ Edition of ‘Miss Pettigrew’

What is the trouble? Not merely an accustomed, lived-with malaise at the way life has settled into seemingly unbreakable rhythms of lock-down and doing less, while doing endless things for others. A shift in emphasis from the foreign to the more domestic seems, in my case, to translate into a strong disinclination to go back to working on my own novels and short stories – not the ones I’m reading, but those I am writing and that date from before lockdown.

 So much of what I might, or should, or may otherwise have to deal with, feels as if it’s currently stalled in a gigantic ‘pending’ folder, while still intruding into my thoughts to demand attention. And when I do get a sunny space, and some time in which I might work – and I do feel immensely fortunate in life – I would far rather read other stories than attempt to listen to my characters and fashion outcomes with them… They might starve for want of attention, but when I try to give them some sustenance, I find myself empty, and unable to assist even though I want to.

I can only apologise. I do hope that when I feel ready to start writing again, my characters are still speaking to me.

Thanks for listening.

 

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July 14, 2021

A forgotten inheritance

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A forgotten inheritance

Recently clearing some of my mother’s books, in a small book-case I discovered a low shelf behind a door, concealing a forgotten inheritance: two-dozen post-war ‘economy’ hardback and paperback ‘English’ mysteries, often written for an American readership.

Instead of my usual habit of immediately stowing them into the car to take to the second-hand shop, something stopped my hand, and I’ve been skimming through them with interest: Daphne du Maurier’s ‘Hungry Hill’ a sepia-toned allegory on the pointlessness of greed; ‘While the Patient Slept’ a 1930’s whodunnit showing its age; a whole variety of unusual, older novels collected and shipped to my mother in France and then finally, one day, finding their way back to Scotland.

Near the bottom of the pile I hit a nugget of gold, Garrison Keillor’s “Lake Wobegon Days” (1985) and feel enormous relief to have discovered something so well written, humorous and engaging. I’ve enjoyed laughing along with his stories, refreshed and enlightened in equal measure.

Rather incongruously, I’ve also found a worn copy of Robert Harris’ ‘Pompeii’ which, though I have read it at least twice previously, is just as exciting to read again. Finally, a first-edition hardback of Edna O’Brien’s ‘Lantern of Slides’ which though as well-written and thoughtful as ever, is not a book to dip into for summery, refreshing escapism: the characters seem to be uniformly gloomy and unlucky: suicide, madness and murder may make good short story fodder, but this volume is one to avoid if one is feeling even a twinge of covid gloom.

I’m so glad to be reading, and in a strange way reassured, to discover among the books I love, those I dislike, and to be confirmed in my reasons for choosing not to spend time with various authors. I love Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters, so my dislike of 1950’s and 1990’s noir is not merely prejudice against what might be slightly out-dated, but based firmly around what I enjoy. Which, I reflect, is also useful for the time when I may get back to writing my own stories again.

Thanks for reading.

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April 20, 2021

‘Grown Ups’ by Marian Keyes – Concluded

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‘Grown Ups’ by Marian Keyes – Concluded

You can find the first part of this review here

‘Grown Ups’ feels like the first volume in a longer series. I would love Keyes to write a follow up as I’m keen to know what happens next to all the characters, chancers and sweet souls that people this novel. To see how Keyes brings each character to life and keeps them distinct and relevant is impressive, as the story weaves and comes to its conclusion. It’s a good, long read, with no wasted words and it’s obvious that a great deal of thought has been invested in crafting the narrative.

In common with most authors writing this year, Keyes has faced a dilemma: the story is firmly set in 2020 and so Keyes has opted to assume that the pandemic is not happening. To that extent, all writers face a choice: to write a story within a pandemic backdrop – because that is what this year has been – or to assume, as Marian has done – hey, it’s fiction – that the pandemic exists in another kind of reality that has no bearing on the Casey’s family story. And, though I have swithered on this point, it is refreshing to read a story that is up-to-date but which proceeds blissfully outside the common reality of closed theatres, empty festival venues and shut shops. It’s nice to get simple, vicarious thrills from a novel.

All credit to Keyes for a generous, vibrant and heart-felt tale, beautifully written as always and thoughtful. There are some very sobering threads of narrative – middle wife does well to come out of her traumatic experiences with her life intact – mostly about the importance of communication, honesty and trusting. I always feel I learn a lot about life from reading a Keyes novel; and this offering continues the trend in my – very willing – education about life, the universe and everything else besides.

Thanks for reading.

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March 31, 2021

‘Me Before You’ – concluded

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‘Me Before You’ – concluded

I can testify that there are few things more soul-destroying than the awareness that one cannot do physical, active things one yearns to do; a realisation that dogged me for decades and which frequently left me suicidally unhappy, burdened as I was by so many conflicting hopes and realisations, dreams and disappointments. That I am still alive today is testament to the love of those around me, and to my writing, which have enabled me through the years to gain and keep a kinder perspective on life in general and my good fortune in particular.

That Will Traynor chooses to end his life while he was still young may be considered a pity. Perhaps if he had grown old, he too would have become reconciled to his limitations. But there are shadows all around him: His life is endlessly monitored, his health is fragile and I gain the impression that, if Will is lucky, he may manage to claw his way through a few more years of precarious life in considerable pain. Some commentators object that the story portrays impairment as burdensome, bothersome to families and in such a light that it might encourage others to think of suicide as a way to escape. Actually, I sincerely doubt whether the film is this powerful. Nor do I think that life and its lessons are so easily snuffed out.

Two of my close family members opted for euthanasia, my brother in his final hours finally succumbing to his illness so that euthanasia proved un-necessary. It does seem to me that, where one has endless choices to make and is free to make them, the rest of us will do well to look with compassion on the complex dilemmas that euthanasia presents us with.

In ‘Me Before You‘, in both the book and the film, Will’s physical pain – and indeed the unattractive aspects of being wheelchair bound – are somewhat glossed over. But why should the characters not keep their dignity? There may be a patina of unreality in the whole story too – The Traynor Family own a castle, for goodness’ sake, and are described as very wealthy, so we don’t have to witness any grubby realism, the poverty that so often accompanies disability. And I have wondered, if Lou Clark’s family so need her income, where does she find the money to dress with such panache?

I’ve read literally hundreds of novels and seen dozens of films based around novels, in which the characters are all unfeasibly rich, beautiful and extraordinarily talented, able to pick up prestigious jobs and an amazing array of abilities with consummate ease… And that, I conclude, is all in the nature of novel writing and film-making. ‘Me Before You’ does at least offer us the reality of Will’s spinal cord injury which will never mend. I think – though I may be wrong here – that few of us often question the able-bodied world’s embrace of dreamy unreality that often stretches credibility to the max. The community of the differently-abled also deserves some escapism.

Not all portrayals of impairment are duty-bound to be ‘gritty’, ‘true-to-life’ and ‘inspiring’. If Will Traynor and Lou Clark can offer me a thoughtful view of life lived well on a small canvas, I accept it with open arms. The best thing about this story is that Lou actually does love Will and hardly considers his disability when dealing with him. She holds him up to the same standards of decent behaviour as she would anyone else, and her blindness to his impairment is what finally gives Will some zest for living: Yes, he can be kind, he can be courteous even when he is depressed and even though he may be in a lot of pain. It is heartening indeed to see a Will and Lou fall genuinely in love; and however Will’s impairment is – or is not – portrayed, that simple message of hope is worth a lot to me.

Thanks for reading.



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March 29, 2021

‘Me Before You’ by Jojo Moyes

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‘Me Before You’ by Jojo Moyes

I’ve read ‘Me Before You’ by Jojo Moyes, and seen the film, several times now. Indeed, I bought the DVD last week and have been watching it. And I’m puzzled I haven’t reviewed the book or the film yet, given that the story very obviously features a disabled main character. So, despite the controversy – or perhaps because of it – here goes.

I wasn’t even aware that there was any controversy around the book and film. The portrayal of a disabled character by an able-bodied actor raises a few hackles, as, does the – apparently – underlying assumption that ‘living with a disability is such agony, it’d be better not to…’ I’ve heard these arguments before, and listened to them; and at different stages in my life, they have hit home very hard.

The story concerns a formerly able-bodied, now wheelchair-bound man, Will, who was injured in a collision with a motorbike and is now paralysed from the neck down. Louisa is employed by Will’s mother to provide some hope of hope for her son. Despite their subsequent obvious love for each other, Lou does not change Will’s mind that he wishes to die. And so, Will goes to Switzerland and ends his life, as he planned to do before Louisa ever came on the scene.

I know that many disabilities, cerebral palsy included, often shorten an ordinary life-span. I also know that being disabled, one has to live with and through lots of painful assumptions, such as – and I’ve debunked a few of these in my time – ‘I thought all people with CP were, you know, mentally retarded’, ‘It’s easier for you because you were born disabled’, ‘She’ll not amount to much’ and, ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t want to live’… which are a painful mix of tosh and ignorance.

When it comes to fictional portrayals, I don’t think there is any need for hostility around either the book or the film. Certainly, the author makes assumptions about disability, but so do many of us, whether able-bodied or disabled. If Moyes’ novel is to be (a) shorter than ‘War and Peace’ and (b) entertaining and enlightening in equal measure, she has to cut a path through the complex maze that is reality and realism, and leaven it with fictional lightness that will make her book good reading. And I think she manages the tricky balance well enough not to be accused of insensitivity. Humans being complex and varied creatures, there is nothing unfeasible, unrealistic, patronising or unattractive in an – admittedly young – character deciding to end his own life because he was formerly very independent, active and sporty and because he finds the prospect of now living with unremitting pain hard to bear.

(To be continued)

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November 5, 2020

Keeping going

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Keeping going

For a long time now, possibly years, I’ve been toying with giving up my writing. In any event, lately, I haven’t been writing much at all, and the dismay of my paralysis has been hard to get my head round.

So I’ve tried to ignore this particular patch of desert, to pretend that lockdown and its outcomes do not affect me. Though my situation remains surprisingly similar to what it has always been, the realities of lockdown, with their peculiar mix of worry and resignation, make working on a fictional series about hard-pressed women – and men – rather hard to justify.

Do I need to justify it? Lately, there have been so many good reasons why I should stop writing: I have lots of calls on my time, from my husband, my daughter, my sisters, friends, my mother, even my daughter’s guinea-pigs; but sitting here, crafting and editing my work, I am reminded again that I do sincerely delight in this particular combination of concentration and escapism.

Even when so much of writing seems to be carried out it a private world that feels like a vacuum, how could I excuse a final decision to stop, when writing makes me smile and feel good? I also know that it is one real, tangible thing I do, that my husband sincerely supports. He wants me to keep writing. And I’ve seen how the things that contribute to our happiness and sense of fulfilment make the routines and hardships of life easier to live with. Constructing fictional worlds is the nearest I’ll ever get to time travel; or, at this time, to actual travel, which is another reason why I will be keeping going.

I’m working now on a final edit of my three novels, which though they each stand alone, also represent a series of characters whose lives may work out in so many different ways. I’m almost driven to conclude that my novels are, as they stand, only outlines, scoping out what might happen, never cast in stone.

That I’m keeping going in itself gives me reason to feel celebratory.

Thanks for reading.

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July 20, 2020

Time management and lists

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Time management and lists

Using even very rudimentary time management and lists of things I need to do, then going one step further and setting up a weekday timetable, helps me to focus. What I’ve been putting off becomes harder to ignore, besides which I find I have much more headspace to make life more interesting and enjoyable.

Compiling lists puts all outstanding matters up front, spelled out in black and white, so I don’t have to carry reminders around in my head. If I go one step further and compile the rudiments of a timetable for each weekday, I can change and refine what I decide to do, testing out what works. In itself, the thought that goes into setting up a timetable gives me the added incentive to follow through and commit to what I’ve already decided.

It doesn’t matter so much what I put in my schedule: respecting the thought and commitment implicit in setting one up, I find it much easier to tailor my other tasks around it without having to find awkward excuses. To say, “I’m sorry, I’m busy” is enough, and far easier than, “I’ve timetabled work that day,” which always invites a counter argument, “Oh, but surely, just this once?” or “But you don’t have to work today, surely?” Beware of people planting the idea that what they have planned for you is more important than what you have timetabled.

Another major bonus of timetabling deployed for even a couple of weeks, is that allocated timeslots quickly become habit forming. We get used to doing a thing regularly at a set time, and so it gets easier. Writing between, say, 2pm and 5pm on weekdays; hoovering on Monday mornings early; supper prep never before five of an evening. Little steps like this soon build into a self-respecting habit, which also means it is very much easier to relax and enjoy our free time when we have scheduled a “Weekend off!”

Thanks for listening. 

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July 9, 2020

Tools of time management

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Tools of time management.

Since I work for myself, I have to be both my own organiser and the one who gets things done. I have to be the one who says what goes, and who does what she’s told. And lately – in fact, for far too long – I’ve been prevaricating and feeling a bit lost, because I have not understood that both roles have different purposes, and both roles are essential.

So, instead of actively using tools of time management and organising my time – accepting the role of organiser – I’ve been hiding in books and in details. It’s very easy, in a lockdown situation to hide from the realisation that I’ve been stalling. I’ve needed someone to tell me what to do. But – Ha! – that is my job. So….?

So I have to be the one who sets up my own timetable. This very quickly gives my weeks a structure that enables me to allocate different times to certain allotted tasks. Having committed the time in advance, I do not then find myself thinking endlessly about all those other tasks which still have to be done and which are less than thrilling: shopping, laundry, meal prep…

With the help of a timetable, routine jobs are given their allocated time, before which I am allowed to accumulate a small pile of things that will be dealt with then. So I can stop thinking about them. That way, I free up loads of space and crucial mental energy for many of the things I prefer to do, deploying timetabling so that I can say, “Sorry, I’m busy at the moment…” and mean it.

Having even the rudiments of a timetable is as important to tell us what we can leave doing until later, as for reminding us what we can do now.

Thanks for reading.

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June 8, 2020

Reading Marian Keyes books

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Reading Marian Keyes books again, I am struck by how the messages I collect from her writing, change and evolve to fit my feelings and thoughts of the moment.

Uplifting messages of personal courage are there, of course; and so are the quieter messages of human existence: even though our heroines might go flying off at short notice to America in pursuit of a dream (“The Woman who stole my life” / “Angels”) their heroism is also about accepting and learning how to live with and truly love the ordinary things in life.

Unlike some authors of fiction (whom I shall not mention) not only are Marian Keyes’ heroines ordinary gals and blokes – no Dukes, formula One racing champions, top models or artistic virtuosi – their stories are not about how they won the lottery, effortlessly qualified for the Olympics, secured a mega corps film deal or were “discovered” on the beach by a top modelling agency… Instead, after their adventures, Keyes’ heroines often arrive back home with a fresh recognition that the ordinary things in life – true love, a meaningful job – are not so ordinary after all, and can be the stuff of which dreams and contentment are made, if only we have the sense to see it.

The kind of trite, “rags to riches” success stories that feature in so much popular fiction – the idea that a bright idea and a sparky attitude are enough to propel even the humblest aspirant to undreamt of recognition and success – are what first gave me the idea to write fiction differently, because I think that readers might sometimes like a choice: to read fanciful fairy tales that transport them to other worlds, or to locate within the pages of a novel, heroes and heroines who have experiences they can relate to their own lives.

I’ve always said that I can only write from my own experience, and that is what I aim to do. It is heartening to be reminded, when perusing one of Ms Keye’s books again, that successful fiction does not always have to rely on a host of improbables, but can revolve around ordinary, decent and faithful people with whom I have something in common. It’s nice to feel, in the success of one of Ms Keye’s characters, the potential of my own success.

Thank you to Ms Keyes, and thanks for reading.

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