'THE LAST WHALE' by Chris Vick Reviewed by Sharon Tregenza

'The Last Whale' is the story of three generations of the Kristensen family. We're first introduced to Abi the teen eco-warrior who is forced to spend the summer with her family on an island off the Norwegian coast. With the help of an AI called Moonlight she is trying to organise a global protest.

Abi's emotional involvement in the conservation of the planet is further heightened when she learns more of her family history and how her great grandfather turned his back on whaling and recorded their songs instead. Through the songs of the whales she learns more about them and their impact on the future of the earth.

I know that Chris Vick works with the Whale and Dolphin Conservation charity so it's no surprise that deep knowledge and concern punctuates every page. But although this book certainly packs a powerful punch it is far from being preachy. He wraps his message in an engaging story of adventure and ultimately hope. 

I loved the message, the characters and the writing. Another triumph for this Carnegie-shortlisted author. 

Published by Zephyr this is a must read by anyone over ten years old.

 

 

RULES FOR WRITING IN A TIME OF LOCKDOWN by Chris Vick

Rules! That’s a joke, right?  

Well yes. Kind of. Ish. But I do think it’s useful to have some sort of learning from all this, in regards to how I write, and to reflect and think about what works and what doesn’t.

Of course, these rules – these ‘ways’  -  are really for me.  But you may find them useful, if only to prompt you to think about your own writing practice and what habits work for you right now.

 As a general point, I’m going to take a leaf from the radical thinker and scientist Rupert Sheldrake, who challenges the very idea of the ‘laws’ of nature and asks us instead to think of them instead as nature’s ‘habits;’ recurring patterns that may seem fixed but which can change and evolve as their relationship with the other ‘laws’ and the very stuff of the universe evolve.

Which is really a pseud-y way of saying: There are habits that work at certain times and these are mine right now.

Here goes, here’s what I tell myself:

1          Be kind to yourself and your words

 Don’t get all judge-y and down on what you write. It’s a weird time and it may (*ahem*) affect what gets on to the page. But that’s normal in a way. Because personally, I find whatever’s going on in my life finds it’s way into the words, whether consciously or unconsciously.  And it’s always been like that.

2          Write something

Back to habit.  As the old saying goes, you can’t edit a blank page. Regularity is key. That said…

 3         Quantity is not quality

 I’m really pleased for the writers who signal on Twitter when they’ve hit a certain number of words on their WIP. But for me, a good day’s writing is increasingly about quality. If I put a lot of time in and ditch most of the words, but keep, say, 200 that feel honest and true to whatever it is I’m trying to express or describe, then that’s a good day’s work.

 4         Wake up.  Write.

 When I get a day when I can write it only works one way.  Wake. Read. Coffee. Write. Thinking: ‘I’ll do some later when I’ve got that other stuff done,’ simply does not work.  There is simply too much ‘other stuff’. Plus the other, other stuff I didn’t plan for, or even know about. To paraphrase Woodhouse; I often think the day is going swimmingly. But just round the corner fate is calmly stuffing lead into a boxing glove.

5          Play

I listened to an interview with the annoyingly brilliant Marcus Sedgwick, the other day. He goes through long spells of not-writing, and/or finding it simply very difficult. He says what brings him back, is encouraging himself to simply play. I’d go with that.  I have to be inspired to write, and if that means the odd turn into a strange and never visited dusty town, where I feel a bit nervous but where I can kind of fool around and be foolish, because no-one knows me there...  Then so be it. 

6   Write something new or different

 I always write on Saturday morning, in bed with strong coffee. Have done for years. But on this special day of the week I don’t have to re-write the bit I did before, or write the bit that follows on.  I can do whatever I fancy:  A different character’s POV.  Something from a different part of the  book. Something that could be part of a different book all together. It’s quite surprising how much of this stuff actually makes it into the final draft.  Or maybe not surprising at all.

7 Go there!

That place you weren’t sure of, that idea that seems a bit rad, or simply difficult, but which won’t go away. Could be dark, disturbing, surreal, bonkers.  Good to explore anyway, right.  I can always not-use it.

 8  When it’s too chaotic, try and make some order, and vice versa.

And

 9  Rules are there to be broken. 

Chris Vick writes books about the sea, adventure and the wonder of magic and stories. 

He spent years working in whale conservation before enrolling on the Bath Spa MA in Writing for Young People. He has four books published in several countries.

The most recent Girl.Boy.Sea is shortlisted for the CILIP Carnegie medal 2020.

Chris has appeared at festivals including Hay, Bath Children’s Literature festival and Mare di Libri (Sea of Books) in Italy and has written about writing issues for a wide range of media.

Help! - by Chris Vick

Help!

Okay, okay, this blog is really more about support; the kind of ‘help’ we get along the way, how a book is paradoxically a mostly ‘solo effort and can be the most collaborative thing we ever do. 

(I didn’t think Support! was a very foxy title and we all know how important titles are, right?)

My book Girl, Boy. Sea. has just been longlisted for the CILIP Carnegie. I am thrilled.  I am also disbelieving.  I’m waiting for a teacherly voice to boom from the sky: ‘Is this all your own work?’ To which I would have to reply:  ‘Oh Yes I mean… you know, mostly.’ 

When I started writing I really did believe it was a solo effort. I didn’t even know what an editor was, or did. The truth about the author, and the writing process is more complex than simply the name on the cover. A good editor can lift a book, a bad one can....hmmm.  I'm lucky, I;ve only had really, really great ones. And in my experience, whilst the author must always be the driver of the story, the wisdom, input and counsel of others is not merely helpful, but invaluable.

So what, or who, am I talking about?

Crit groups

Early drafts of early chapters or scenes are road tested with an audience.  Two times I have ditched WIPs and launched new ones on the basis - at least in good part - of crit group input and responses. Because, how it works in my head and how it works with an audience are different things.  And then I find I write a little differently if I know I will soon be sharing with with other writers.

I did this on the Bath Spa Ma in Writing for Young People. I now do it with the wonderful Rogue Critters South West SCWBI group.

What I have learned over years is to do the opposite of what I did when I first started critting. Namely, not to offer up the work of which I am most confident, then hope for praise, but to use the valuable time to work with others on the stuff I am really  unsure of; to get others’ input on the strengths and weaknesses. In short, to do the work on the material that needs the most work.

One to one crit

This is much more in depth, not least as I tend to go with as many as 5,000 words, and with a writer chum who I really respect.  I only do this when I’m really pretty happy with the WIP.

 Agent

My agent is the best (she has actual prizes that prove that) and has a list of famous, brilliant and literary writers. So simply pressing ‘send’ is pretty damn nerve-wracking.

I’ve heard different tales about different agents in terms of their levels of ‘input;’ from the ones who do the business side only, to those who do forensic line edits with their authors before it goes to a publisher. Sometimes over more than a year.

My experience is somewhere in between; I get input on idea, structure, tone, character and – as with Girl. Boy. Sea, sometimes encouragement to pursue a rich creative vein, even if it’s a bit, well, 'unusual.'

Editor/s

The big one. The final input; from central idea to individual words. Top to bottom, 360.  If you have good editors – and again, I do – you listen.

So there you are, that’s a lot of input.  And it’s a foolish writer who doesn’t consider the opinions of others, and the sage advice of mentors.

There is however, one massive caveat to all this.

You can’t write a book by committee.

Strength of voice. Core themes. The real nature of your characters. They came from you, and in the end you need to be pretty sure of some key aspects of your story, and keep them as they are, no matter what others think.

You need to listen, collaborate and take advice. You also sometimes need to stick to your guns.  

Knowing when to do which, or which to do when… that’s a bigger question. 

What does 'done' look like?

 What does ‘done’ look like?

This blog is one of those practical ones. We love to see what other writers do, don’t we? We love to see how they deal with the same conundrums and challenges we face.

 So this is one of those, the thorny issue, not of starting, or of the process itself,  but of the end of the manuscript.

 It’s a sort of paradox; we only find out by really doing, and it’s a lonely business, learning the hard way. Yet there’s also benefit to be had in seeing what others do, from ‘where do ideas come from,’  (actually I might actually try and answer that question next month), to this subject:  how do we know when it’s finished?  Indeed, is it ever ‘finished?’  Is it more a case of choosing the right time to leave a work in progress? 

So here’s some insight, but of course, I’m only really talking about my own experience. I hope it’s of some use.

So, what does the phrase 'final draft' (FD) mean?

It means no more changes are possible. In an ideal world that would mean no more changes are necessary, but for an author it can mean when you’ve hit deadline and have to deliver, which is at least  useful in forcing you to make timely decisions, and not dither. Or, perhaps it’s FD when you can’t see the wood for the trees, or when you get the feeling that further tinkering might improve the draft, but you’re not really sure. And if in doubt about changes, perhaps it’s better not to make them? I don’t think there are hard and fast rules. I think, like so much in writing it comes down to leaving it alone when it feels right to do so.  Even so, I still find it hard to read long ago written text without thinking about how I’d like to improve it in some way. As I already noted, maybe there’s no such thing as a finished story?  They just evolve.

What is the process when writing a final draft?

Assuming I’ve done the structural changes, and line edits, FD means going through it and making sure – again – that it feels right, and that it flows and that nothing jars; is out of place, or is too long, or too short or too much this, or not enough that. The process has been likened to sculpting a horse from a block of stone, (I wrote about that in last month’s blog). In editing, you know the shape of the horse, so you go in and take out anything that isn’t the horse. Once I’ve done that, I go over it and think: is this the horse as I imagined it? It might be a different shape but hopefully it might still be a pretty good horse. As soon as it feels like I’m chipping at the horse’s flesh, I stop.  I’m reasonably ruthless about taking stuff out. Getting other writers to look at my work is also critical to my process before it goes to agent and then editor.

Are there any particular challenges in writing a FD?

It’s easy to be too subjective; to hate or love it all.  You can get so close to a text it’s impossible to be clear minded about it, or to see an idea or phrase or character as the reader will see them for the first time because you are so (over) familiar with them. It then gets hard to ‘kill your darlings,’ or to recognize stuff that really works.  But in truth no matter how good you may think one aspect or element is, it may not fit with the whole, so it has to go.  It’s also difficult – but important- to give yourself space to not look at a draft for a while before going in for final edit.

The wonderful Julia Green, course leader on the MA in Writing for Young People at Bath Spa  Uni, once told me: ‘writing is re-writing.’

I think that’s true. It’s also critical to know when to walk away, and start on a new story.

So, in the end, it might be a deadline, but I hope, for all of us, it’s more organic than that, like a relationship,  or a job, or like a hobo, with itchy feet, sometimes we just know, in our heart, it’s time to move on.

 Chris Vick’s Girl. Boy. Sea is published by Zephyr (Head of Zeus) 8^th August.