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My second novel, recently re-titled ‘The Dawning’ (originally ‘Before the Light’), is to be published by innovative, new Nottingham press, Weathervane, in January 2010!
We signed contracts last week. I’m so happy I could pop.
I have many people to thank, and lots to do – January doesn’t seem very far away at all. But for now, here’s a brief outline of ‘The Dawning’:
It is New Year’s Eve, a time for fresh beginnings - but for each member of the fragmenting Haywood family, this night could mark the end.
With mother Stella battling depression and father Philip determined to escape, eleven-year-old Zachary and his teenage sister Nicola are forced to fend for themselves when confronted by their own worst fears. Set against a backdrop of wintry beauty on the edge of a Peak District town, ‘The Dawning’ explores the darkness that can arise even at the heart of a family, over the course of a single devastating night.
Current Mood:  excited
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I’m unleashing the opening to my most recent novel, ‘The Lives of Ghosts'
There were ghosts at the Loch House long before we arrived, with ours.
Marie told me about them towards the end of the journey. After nine hours behind the wheel and all that silence, her voice didn’t sound right. It was hollow and tinny and seemed to scrape at the air trapped between us. Air that had smelt of melting rubber for the entire four hundred mile drive.
“There have always been stories about the place,” she said. “Sightings of shadowy figures and sudden lights. Strange noises in the night. For a while, we even thought about including them in the brochure. Some people like that kind of thing.”
Looking back on it now that I’m older, I imagine that she was simply talking for the sake of talking, chatting to ward off the panic as the reality of what she was doing finally started to set in. I can clearly remember how her eyes flicked at me in the rear-view mirror, a dark, wet flash and then away, and how her shoulders had risen; she was practically cowering in her seat. Clinging to that wheel. And certainly not thinking straight to say the things she said.
. . .
If you’d like to continue reading, or want to find out more about 'The Lives of Ghosts', please visit my website, where (for a limited period, as they say, whoever they are) you can read the complete first chapter. Current Mood:  scared
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It’s been quite a weekend. On Friday afternoon, I received my MA results. And I’ve passed. With Distinction!!!! Yay! I have loved studying creative writing so much. I’ve learnt tons, read some absolutely brilliant original fiction and met many wonderful, supportive and inspiring people. Having the actual marks has been like adding extra delicious fudge icing to an already lush and chocolate filled cake. Or something (in case you haven’t guessed, I’m very happy) And then, on Saturday, I ran my workshop at Lowdham Book Festival. Yay! We had a full house and everyone who took part was wonderful. I was a bit nervous beforehand, but then there was a lovely moment when I looked around at all these writing people and I could almost feel the crackle of words flying about their heads. Thank you so much to everyone who came along. And then, I was whisked away for a celebration involving cocktails and cabaret. I’m still grinning.
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" There's No Place Like Home" I'm running a creative writing workshop at this year's Lowdham Book Festival, from 10.30 - 11.30am on Saturday 27th June. Come along and learn how to transform childhood memories of real places into fictional settings. You might even find the beginnings of a whole new story . . . The workshop is FREE and will take place in the Nottingham Writer's Studio tent. Book your place by calling 0115 9597947, or emailing nottinghamwritersstudio@gmail.com. I'd love to see you there! In other news, I've been playing with my website. Along with information about How We Were Lost, you can now read more about my recently completed novel, Before the Light and the brand-spanking-new The Lives of Ghosts. :-) Current Mood: busy
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It’s been over a month since I completed the first draft of my third novel, ‘The Lives of Ghosts’. For me, having some space between completing a draft and beginning to read and edit is essential. My overall perspective on my stories is shaky at the best of times, but during those final intense novel weeks, the trees have so completely overgrown the woods that it’s almost like writing in the dark. But now, after spending some time working, playing, reading, writing a new short story, but mostly simply attempting to catch up with all the things and people I’m destined to never completely catch up with, while at the same time trying not to think about my novel at all - I’ve printed it out at long last. (293 pages - the printer was a bit grumpy about it, but finally gave in). And this morning - I opened it. It was a shock. To say the least. What is this story? Who told this story? Was I honestly such a different person when I wrote this - or has some mysterious, masked author crept in and secretly rewritten my novel while my back was turned? Perhaps I was more thoroughly possessed by my Ghosts than I imagined . . . In a way, this sense of surprise is ideal, since in order to go through the manuscript as subjectively as possible, I need to try to see it from the perspective of a reader (a crotchety, pernickety, generally quite difficult reader frequently works best), but nonetheless the gap between the novel I believed I had created and the actual story on the page before me was startling. After all, these characters have been living in my head for almost a year - yet somehow, they’ve managed to sneak off and make their own way. Even their scenery is subtly different . . . However, after that initial jolt, when I actually allowed myself to simply read (and only read – no rewriting or corrections are allowed, not just yet!), I found my irritation giving way here and there to a grudging pleasure and then, eventually, to a dawning relief. Well, hello there story, I thought. Nice to make your acquaintance.
I’m looking forward to finding out what you’re about to tell me next . . .Tags: i'm not really bonkers. honest.
Current Mood:  crazy
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What if I’m just Deluded? And no one will ever read another word that I write? (have I lost you already?) I think that - I’d still have the stories in my head I’d still want to explore those people, and those places (and especially all their secrets) I know I’d still need the sheer escape of writing So, I reckon that . . . I’d still love it I’d still write. phew So that’s ok then. Current Mood: ditzy
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So – I’m coming to the end of the first draft of novel number three. There are only two more chapters left to write, I know (more or less) what needs to happen and I’m even still in first-draft-love with it. Nonetheless, I’m struggling. In fact, my typing fingers seemed to have transformed into snails. And not just any snails. Obese, elderly snails in a going-backwards race. This is probably partly because I have quite an ending in mind, which I’m a little scared of writing, but I also suspect that I’m on go-slow because I don’t actually want to finish. I’m aware that I’ll need to hide this one away for as long as I can possibly help it before I go back in again, on the editing attack, for draft two. And, as infuriating and disturbing as the writing has sometimes been, it’s also been such an exhilarating pleasure that I don’t want to say goodbye. Not just yet. But there are a lot of things about to happen around these parts. There are more job things and children things that I need to focus on, and other-book things too (including finally finishing my creative writing MA and practising reading for next week’s Exclusively Independent event). I really should complete this draft – if only to begin it all over again, sooner. But instead, what am I doing? I seem to be thinking about snails still, about how generally beautiful their trails are, and how strange their eyes and mouths, and about the snail hospital my sister and I ran when we were kids . . . And I’m even blogging about them too. Please help. Current Mood: busy
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I seem to be reading again, and even sooner – next Wednesday, 4th March, at 7.15pm, as part of Nottingham Writers' Studio next ' Word of Mouth' event at Nottingham’s Royal Centre! The evening will also include writing by Nigel Smith, Wayne Burrows, Richard Pilgrim, Ian Douglas and Michael Eaton. Tickets cost £5, which includes a complimentary glass of wine or juice and are available in advance from the Box Office (0115 989 5555), or on the door. On this occasion, I won’t be reading from ‘ How We Were Lost’, but my short story ‘On the Island’. It would be very wonderful to see you there … Current Mood: cheerful
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