Category Archives: The Writing Life

Michel Faber: On Writers As Public People

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(Or rather: On writing and himself as a public person.)

Michel Faber, author of not just one but two of my favourite novels (Under the Skin and The Crimson Petal and the White), quoted in a feature in Thresholds:

I’ve largely withdrawn from my career as a public person. I say no to almost all offers, don’t go to book festivals any more, etc. … I’ve resolved to avoid [these events], because you meet lots of people in the literary ‘industry’ and you smell their hunger for success or attention or status, and I hate to be reminded of all that.

 

Tips From Writers

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A couple of fun/useful lists on writers and writing posted recently:

* Matt Haig’s What Being Published Has Taught Me (also reproduced in the Telegraph)

* 50 Things A Writer Shouldn’t Do, from Three Guys One Book

Plus in looking up these I also came across a wealth of other useful resources from Book Trust writers in residence:

* Featured Materials/Resources From Book Trust Writers In Residence

From the comments, I notice that some people seem to object to the idea of lists of tips and advice. In which case, either: lighten up (none of this is gospel, and as in all things creative some things will contradict themselves). Or: bugger off and write your own book then, and keep your damage to yourself.

From Matt Haig’s list, I particularly note several things: choosing agents wisely (should like to know the story there …); the need for editors (yes!); the idea there are now more gates for the gatekeepers to manage; and also:

Beauty breeds beauty, truth triggers truth. The cure for writer’s block is therefore to read.

The Three Guys One Book comments included one of my favourite points:

DO NOT BORE YOUR READER.

That assumes you want readers, of course.

 

Dedication

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dedication

Last night I went to Treadwell’s for the launch of Astrology Decoded, by Sue Merlyn Farebrother. Sue was my tarot teacher, and quite a remarkable teacher at that: clear at communicating, in possession of great knowledge and authority, passionate about the subject, and always inviting us to dig deep into content that can be quite subtle.

Thinking as an editor, I was surprised she’d not written a book already, and before the course finished I ventured the question, ‘Sue, have you ever thought of writing a book on tarot?’ She replied that in fact her first idea was for a book on astrology … and here we are, a couple of years later, finished copies in our hands. I was very pleased to help out, first with putting together a proposal, and then with introducing her to my (other) friend Sue at Rider Books, which is an imprint of Random House. Another friend and former colleague, Helen, was the copyeditor.

I was flattered to be asked to launch the book at 8.40 p.m. yesterday (and to understand why that timing was so auspicious, I’ll be examining the book closely … my own studies are just at the beginning).

I was even prouder when I saw that the book had been dedicated to me!

Thanks, Sue.

But the other reason (as well as a bit of showing off) to title this post Dedication is that Sue’s own devotion to the task really made this book happen. She’s very well established in astrology circles (has a profile and platform, in publishingspeak). What’s more, she really knew the book that she wanted to write, and why: an introduction to the subject that goes beyond the crude generalisations of star sign columns in the newspaper, but presents the subject of astrology to the intelligent reader – someone who’s curious to know the meaning of signs, planets, houses and aspects, but not yet ready to dive into some of the more specialist technical works. It keeps that focus (so many books that do not get published are united only by their lack of focus). And, of course, Sue really knows her stuff; she is the right person to write a book such as this.

As such, this book fulfils what it set out to achieve. I hope it does really well – and in due course, I also hope to read that book on tarot as well, Sue!

Larger-than-life

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I just read in the LRB an enjoyable review by James Wolcott of the selected letters of William Styron.

Sometimes, when I read pieces like this, which express strong opinions, I find myself getting carried along. Am I agreeing with what’s being said too easily, am I being too fickle, is there another view I’m ignoring? Or perhaps that doesn’t matter? What’s more to the point is the energy and the colour in the writing. We don’t have to agree/disagree with everything that’s put in front of us, and either way we can still enjoy the force in the writing.

Among various choice details in this review, one note that particularly resonated with me is a comment about a lost literary culture of ‘larger-than-life’ set against ‘the small-time pantomime we have today’.

Knock each other as they may in print, old-pro novelists harbour a crusty collegiality borne of the awareness of the attrition involved in pushing that cannon up the hill, enduring false starts, racking fatigue, spent livers, sunken eyeballs, crises of faith, year-round seasonal affective disorder and carpal tunnel syndrome, only to stagger into publication day and have Michiko Kakutani of the New York Times nail them in the neck with a poison blowdart.

I guess that larger-than-life had its own trappings, and we have to see through the veneer of glamour and celebrity in that literary mondo (I’m sure some of these figures would be frantically checking their Amazon rankings today). We can get too easily nostalgic. But it does bring to mind Norma Desmond: ‘It’s the books that got small!’ Good writing needs personality, and personality is probably helped by having some personalities write it in the first place. I can think of a few at work today, but perhaps not enough (and probably more poets than novelists).

I do remember reading Sophie’s Choice, too, and it being one of those first grown-up books to leave a strong impression on me. Styron does have a rich prose style, and perhaps for too long I carried with me the sense that grown-up writing needed to be so … flamboyant. Which it can, of course – if you can do it. And he could, and he told great stories, and filled them with characters we cared about.

Wolcott’s review is certainly worth a read, and I’m also going to have to remember to pop in on his blog every now and then. And I ought to get those letters, too.

Remember, remember, the first of November

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It’s NaNoWriMo time! Gimme an N! Gimme an A! Gimme a paragraph that’s a unit of thought!

I really admire the application and steadfastness fostered by the National Novel Writing Month. There’s much to be said for the instinct that can grow from that regular output of writing (1,667 words a day = a 50,000-word novel in the month of November). Plus it’s fun, and you’re writing within a global community that has lots of local groups and gatherings.

But sometimes I wish for an approach that’s a bit less cheerleadery, and a bit more quality. Maybe I’ve simply read a few too many unfiltered outpourings, and wondered if a more measured approach might have been more helpful for the writers concerned. Apparently:

Last year, NaNoWriMo writers wrote a collective total of 3,073,176,540 words. The writing marathon has generated 90 published novels, according to the organizers.

I’ve even heard of some of their publishers.

Gosh, I feel I’ve shown too much of my dark side now. I’ve never done it myself, so what the hell do I know?

Okay. A new type of challenge. How about a NaNoWriThreeMo – a season’s worth of writing? Or even a NaNoWriYear? Something that’s more gradual, more sustainable, less of a binge? It’s not a race, you know.

Meanwhile, the good folk of NaNoWriMo do produce an awful lot of useful resources. And here from Galleycat are 60 NaNoWriMo Writing Tips in a Single Post. (The link to the Fantasy Novelist’s Exam is particularly funny. Question #1: Does nothing happen in the first fifty pages? Hahaha.)