Women’s fiction and chic lit

I am writing books.  Not only my first three (a series of MBS – the next two in the series after ‘Trapped’ being publication ready) but now fiction, which, despite everything, is fictional, rather than invented.  It is about realistic women and men, their frailties and weaknesses, as well as their triumphs.  Though I often find myself taking shelter from harsh realities of life – and have often read to escape – I have always believed in portraying all my characters as convincingly as possible.  I hope they do sound and feel true to life.  I could not write about a pasha or a woman seduced by the Sheikh of Arabia, because, apart from empathising with the human condition I know little about life in a harem.

I have entered a very determined phase in the writing, in which I can see, and know I can write, three or four books in a series of books about women of a certain age who are having to navigate domestic responsibilities, work challenges, and caring duties that, a generation ago, would have been shouldered by a wider extended family, but these days, increasingly fall on the shoulders of one or two individuals.

And what have I learned in the last few months?  That we all try our best; that human lives are filled with broken dreams, with hopes that die in bud, with ideals that are warped by the pressures of the daily grind.  But, in the midst of the daily grind we have a responsibility to be gentle and forgiving with each other, to take on the responsibilities as well as the joys of love; and to live each day as a gift, which it is.  Above the clouds, the sun is always shining.  During each second that we breathe, we can take a stand for what we believe in.  We can declare for all the world to see, our right to be wrong, to be frail and sad, but also to be cheerful and pleased with life.  To regret is not weakness, but a chance to try again differently. To mourn is not to lose, but to love more completely.  To write about characters who are flawed, and lovable, is only to reflect the reality of life, even if we dismiss what we write as ‘women’s fiction’ or ‘chic lit’ which must, always, have a happy ending.  Of course it must.  All my fiction does.

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I’ve got my train ticket, I’ve downloaded my pass for the week and I’ve booked and paid for my accommodation, which is a stone’s throw away from the venue.  I am definitely going to the London Book Fair 2016 , at Olympia Exhibition Centre, Hammersmith Road, from Tuesday 12 April to Thursday 14th April inclusive.  It’s the first week of the Summer term for Seline, who will be fine with her dad here to look after her.  This time last year, I would have been more hesitant, but in the last twelve months, Seline has grown and matured, and become taller than her mum, not only in stature, but also in confidence and wisdom too.  She will relish the freedom to be without my mumsy ways for a while.

What shall I take to the Fair?  Apart from my tickets and my hopes, what materials will I be taking with me?  Top of the list is the first in my series of books featuring Lisa, a Scots lawyer, and an assortment of her friends and clients.  It is a source of constant delight to me to discover that the more I write about Lisa, the more I discover to write.  To know that a series feeds naturally on itself is to surrender a major pre-occupation and so begin to really enjoy writing for pure pleasure.  As well as the first book in the series, I hope to take the first fifty pages of book two + synopses and/ or proposals for the series.

Since I will be in London, with its myriad opportunities, tucked under my arm, will be an abbreviate of my radio play. It seems a pity to be in London for the whole week and leave it behind. Who knows what might arise from a decision to remain open about that?

Who else is going to the London Book Fair 2016?

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Today I got a reply from ‘Woman’s Weekly’ magazine, returning a short story contribution which they advise is not quite what the editor is looking for.

I am very heartened by this for three reasons.

First, I did not send a stamped self-addressed envelope with my letter. I know this because if and when I do, I use first class postage affixed to a standard business envelope, assuming that, if what I send is unsuitable for the current round of articles or features, which it almost always is, my contribution will be routinely binned and that I might, if I am very lucky, receive a single sheet form letter in reply. (I have long since left behind the desire to see my printouts returned, because they are rarely used twice, and the material will doubtless have been revised many times since it was submitted.) So, the fact that ‘Woman’s Weekly return anything in a large envelope with the proper second-class postage means that someone probably read it and decided it was good enough to merit a reply – result!

Secondly, despite the fact that the form letter enclosed with my story says, ‘unfortunately we are unable to return manuscripts that are submitted without an sae’, someone clearly did return it, suggesting that they are reminding me of their submissions guidelines. Nudge, nudge!

Thirdly, that someone takes the trouble to remind me of their submission guidelines reinforces how important it is to follow these to the letter, and suggests that someone might want to hear from me again. I shall study the guidance carefully and write another short story which might be more suitable next time. I think I can do that. And, to make their lives easier, I shall enclose a second-class large letter postage stamp on a suitable envelope as routine.

I call that an excellent outcome. I am very grateful to Woman’s Weekly for taking the time to reply, and for returning my contribution with such useful feedback.

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