Grey, Baggy and Holey -- sharing a first draft Sheena Wilkinson

I like to start a new writing project at the beginning and keep on until I get to the end. I work on the principle of ‘first get it written, then get it right’. My first drafts tend to be overlong and messy, but more or less a recognisable version of the final version.

And one thing is for sure: I don’t show those first drafts to anyone. I would be mortified.

However, my current work in progress has been giving me a hard time. It’s a dual timeline, a device I like as a reader so long as it’s well done – by which I mean the stories should link, be of equal import and interest and the pacing should ensure that the reader is sorry to pause one timeline but then be immediately captured by the other one, either because you left it at such a cliffhanger, or because something in the first timeline has revealed something that makes you want to plunge back into the other one. When it’s well done, with reveals at just the right point in the narrative, it’s such a satisfying reading experience.

Turns out, though, that it’s not that easy to achieve. I’m over 70,000 words into the first draft of a dual timeline novel, set between the 1940s and 2020s, with my main characters linked by a house, and some drawings. I knew I had a good mystery, and even a twist, but I also knew that my modern timeline wasn’t pulling its weight. I was whingeing voicing my frustrations about this to a wise writer friend last week, when she generously offered to read it. 

I can’t let you see an unfinished first draft! I demurred. I would be too embarrassed. It would be like going out in public in my knickers. Grey baggy ones. With holes. 

But the wise writer friend (we’ll call her Emma, since she is in fact the insightful and generous Emma Pass) said that didn’t matter, and, since I really was in despair about how to fix it, and I didn’t think my usual strategy of just writing to the end and then editing it was going to work, I sent her the draft.

She read it quickly and said the encouraging things I needed to hear – especially that she hadn’t guessed the twist! – but agreed that the contemporary timeline needed another element. She had some suggestions, some of which chimed with my vision of the book, some of which didn’t, but – and this is why this was so helpful – in considering them, I chanced on what would work. 

The ending of this story could be that I returned to the MS today with fresh ideas, happy to be going in the right direction and not wasting any more time, but it’s more complex than that. When I looked at the progress I’d made with his book since starting it 14 months ago I could see that, more than anything else I’ve ever written, it has been interrupted many times along the way – by another book which was commissioned by a publisher and so had to take priority, and by editing two other projects for publication later this year. I've shared the relevant pages to show you just how many times the project has had to give way to something else. 

My writing is often stop-start, because of having to make money, but when I sat back and looked at this project, I realised that I had rarely had the chance for a really good run at it. I also realised that some of the 'new' ideas I'd had this weekend after talking to Emma were already there in my notes: I had just forgotten about them. No wonder it wasn’t exactly coherent. I’m sharing this to remind people of the importance of seeking help from other, trusted writers; of not being too precious about works in progress; of understanding that what we 'always' do might not always work, and of realising that we might already have had the answers all along.

And now I’m getting straight back to that manuscript. Grey, baggy and holey it might be right now, but thanks to being brave enough to expose it, and thanks to the wisdom of Emma, I know how to fix it. 

 

The Girl form Norway -- in praise of the online book event by Sheena Wilkinson

This will be a short post as I’m just getting over Covid, and right now I am trying to conserve energy for the Romantic Novelists’ Association annual conference – by the time this is posted, I’ll be there, all being well.

Having Covid is very relevant to this post. I’d always planned to write about the virtual book launch of Emma Pass’s wonderful WW2 romantic novel, The Girl from Norway, which was published last week. Emma had had a successful virtual launch for her previous novel, the RNA-shortlisted Before the Dawn, and was keen to repeat the experience. I was lucky enough to read an early version of the novel, and loved it, so I really wanted to help launch it, but I live in Northern Ireland, so I wouldn’t have been able to go to a conventional book launch.

In-person book launches are a wonderful way to bring lots of well-wishers together in one place. But a virtual book launch is a very special thing too.

When I logged on last Thursday, not only did I get to see and hear Emma and her editor talk about the book, but I also saw many friends from the world of books – some of whom I know from Charney and other author events, and whom I haven’t been able to see in real life for years. And – something you don’t get in real life events – some of them had brought their dogs and cats along! (My greyhound Stroller is distantly related to Emma’s greyhound Auburn – they’ve often met online, which it’s fair to say we are more excited about than they are.)

Emma has excellent technical and artistic skills (she designed my website!) and she put those to great use when she shared her screen to show us some fascinating objects from her research – some early radar equipment, which she had actually used, and magazines from the RAF men stationed on Unst. Later came the fiendish WW2/RAF/Shetland-themed quiz – great fun, with plenty of banter among the participants. 

 

This was a lovely, friendly, celebratory event. It felt different from an in-person book launch, of course, but definitely not a poor relation. Since lockdown, there has been a lot of discussion about the importance of online and hybrid events, from an accessibility point of view. I’m fortunate enough, normally, to be able to access in-person events, though I do spend more time travelling than I’d ideally like. But last Thursday, with Covid, not having spoken to anyone outside my household, or seen another face, for days, I really appreciated the fact that such events are accessible when you’re physically unable to leave the house.

 

Emma and I have talked about how much we’d like to do some online author events together – her WW2 novels and my 1930-set Mrs Hart’s Marriage Bureau being natural bedfellows – and the success of the launch of The Girl from Norway has fired me up to make this happen soon! 

 

Thanks to Emma for agreeing to let me write about her event for this blog, and good luck to The Girl from Norway! 

 

The Books That Made Me Fall In Love With Words by Emma Pass

My mum and dad tell me that when I was very young, I used to come into their room into the small hours of the morning to announce I was bored. So they did what any self-respecting parents driven half-crazy by middle-of-the-night demands for entertainment would do: they taught me to read.

I don’t remember this; for me, reading’s something that’s always been there, like breathing. What I do remember is the books that were more than just books – the ones that made me fall in love with words. (Follow the links to find out more!)

Tim and the Hidden People (series) by Sheila K. McCullagh

I discovered these at school when I was about 5 or 6. While everyone else was listening to the teacher reading about Roger Red Hat (another series by Sheila McCullagh) I’d sneak these off the shelves to catch up with the adventures of Tim, a boy who finds a hidden kingdom and explores it with the help of a cat called Tobias. Often, I’d get so absorbed, I’d be completely unaware that the teacher had stopped reading and was giving me the Stare of Death™ until she came over and took the book out of my hands.

Black Harvest by Ann Pilling

By the time I got to middle school, I’d developed an appetite for ghost stories. One of my favourites was this dark and incredibly creepy book about Colin and Prill, who are dismayed to find out their dorky cousin Oliver is coming with them on a much-anticipated holiday to Ireland. When they get there, though, Oliver turns out to be the least of their worries. Strange things start to happen – a terrible smell hangs in the air, Prill is haunted by nightmares and their baby sister falls ill. In the end it’s Oliver, the only one who seems unaffected, who discovers a connection to the Great Famine and must fight to save them all. I remember this being the first book I ever read where, instead of seeing places I already knew in the real world, I saw places that were completely out of my own imagination, conjured up entirely by the words.

You’re Thinking About Doughnuts by Michael Rosen

I also loved funny books, and there’s few authors funnier than Michael Rosen. This book is about Frank, who has to wait at the museum one night while his mum, who’s the cleaner there, finishes her shift. The exhibits, which include a talking doughnut-obsessed skeleton, come to life and together, they have all sorts of adventures. I got it through a book club at school and read it until it dropped to pieces.

In honour of the great man himself, I’m going to leave you with a video of another of my all-time Rosen favourites – his poem Chocolate Cake. The only word for it is… genius.

What about you? Which books, stories and poems made you fall in love with words and reading?

For the Love of Dogs by Emma Pass

Anyone who knows me knows that I am, unashamedly and unapologetically, a dog person. Here's my very first dog, Scamp. He belonged to my mum when she was a little girl, and she passed him down to me. He's a little worse for wear now – his paws are patched where my aunt's puppy tried to chew them, his fur is a little threadbare, he can no longer stand up on his own and in places, his straw stuffing is leaking out, but I still treasure him.

And here I am, aged 2, with our family dog, Shep. We're not sure what mix she was, but she was a sweet, gentle soul, and I'll never forget the story my mum told me about the day she left her with my grandparents for the day. They lived on the Cornish coast, in a big house on top of a cliff, and when my mum returned my grandfather told her the foghorn had been sounding all day. He was puzzled; it was a bright sunny day, not a scrap of fog to be seen. When the "foghorn" went off again, the mystery was solved: Shep, pining for my mum, was sitting on my grandparents' bed upstairs, howling mournfully.

Naturally, when I left home and got a place of my own, getting a dog was a priority. (Luckily, my husband, who'd only ever owned cats, gave in…)

We'd already decided we wanted to get a rescue dog, and after much research and deliberation, ended up at the East Midlands branch of the Retired Greyhound Trust. We were introduced to two dogs – both ex-racers – but although they were lovely, one was too much of a handful and the other so nervous we couldn't even coax her out of her kennel. "Wait there," the kennel hand told us. "There's one more dog we'd like you to meet. He's the biggest greyhound here, but don't let that put you off." She disappeared, returning a few moments later with a tiger-striped giant who walked straight up to me, waving his tail, and leaned. That was Kelly, A.K.A. The Hound.

 

Unbeknownst to us, Kelly had numerous health problems, we suspect thanks to poor treatment he received before landing in rescue, and we lost him tragically young, at just six years old. I hope in the three years he was with us, he knew how much he was loved, and that he had more happy memories than bad ones. After his death we decided we weren't going to get another dog for a while – any animal is a big commitment, and my debut year was almost upon us. I was still working at my day job and barely had time to breathe, let alone adopt another rescued greyhound and get it used to living as a pet.

Fate had other ideas.

The night we lost Kelly, I had a vivid dream we'd adopted another greyhound – small, skinny, black, with a bald bum and a white zig-zag on its chest. "A bit of TLC and you'll be fine," I remember telling this dog in my dream, while it laid on its back and begged for belly rubs. Four weeks later, I had the same dream, and told this dog the same thing. Later that day, I was "just looking" on the East Midlands RGT website…

…And there he was: the dog from my dream. Everything about him was the same, even the zig-zag marking on his chest. "Email them!" my husband said. I did. It turns out I was the first person to do so; this dog, Gunner had been put up on the website just hours before. Four weeks later, after all the paperwork was sorted, he came home. Yep, our dog-free time had lasted all of two months…

If you made it this far, you're probably saying, "But this is a writing blog! What has all this got to do with writing?!"

As anyone who writes knows, it's a sedentary occupation. Having a dog means I must leave the house twice a day, whether I want to or not. Whether it's summer or winter. Whether it's sunny, or snowing sideways. Gunner – known as G-Dog on Twitter and Facebook – lives for his walks, and if you're so much as ten minutes late taking him out, he comes and STARES at you until you put the laptop down and fetch his lead. And if you don't respond to the STARE, he'll start whinging through his nose, very softly at first, then louder, until the sound is impossible to ignore. (And that's a lot of nose for whinging down.)

Even if it is snowing sideways, I love our walks. Not only do they keep me fit (I suffer from mild CFS/M.E., so more strenuous exercise isn't possible for me right now), but they give me time to think; to chew over tricky ideas and figure out plot tangles. If I've been struggling with something, I nearly always have an "ah-ha!" moment when we're out and about. If I'm really lucky, I might even get an idea for something shiny and new.

But the best thing about having a dog?

Getting them to write your books for you, of course!

How about you? Do you have any pets? Do they help with your writing? I'd love to hear about them in the comments!

Why Libraries Matter by Emma Pass

Image licensed for reuse on Creative Commons

Forget Hogwarts. Never mind Narnia. When I was a kid, there was only one place where magic really happened. In this place, I could go anywhere. I could be anyone. I could fly; I could make myself invisible; I had superpowers.



That place was my local library.



As soon as I stepped inside, I entered another world. I never knew what I might find – what worlds waited for me between the covers of the books lining the shelves. Even better, I got to take that magic home, and it didn’t cost me a penny. For a child with a reading habit like mine, the library was a lifeline, feeding my book addiction and filling up my brain with stories and experiences and life.



Later, as an adult, I got a job in a library, and had the chance to see life from ‘the other side of the desk.’ I was also an aspiring author, writing stories of my own. I spent every day surrounded by books, by authors, by words. That familiar magic filled the air; I took it in with every breath. When I was supposed to be shelving books, I’d find a quiet corner in which to read. Between customers, I’d scribble ideas down on old receipts and tickets and request cards. I’d look at the books on the shelves and daydream about seeing my name on a book spine one day.



But there was more to it than that.



The stereotype of the library as an archaic, dusty institution, inhabited by stern, bespectacled librarians saying SHHH! every time you so much as breathe persists to this day. But that’s never been my experience, even as a child. The library I worked in was a cheerful, welcoming place. We had author events, storytimes, readings and more. And best of all was seeing children come in – some already keen readers like I had been, others just starting their first uncertain forays into the world of words.



I’ll never forget the fourteen year old boy who “didn’t read”, only, after we recommended a list of authors to his frustrated mother, he did. Or the kids devouring their favourite series who came running in every week to see if the next book had arrived.



I was able to volunteer to help out at events like the Big Book Bash, an annual celebration of books and authors for young people in care. I was asked to join a team of writers for a website that recommended books to young people. Later on, I was lucky enough to set up two writing groups – one for adults, and one for children (which I still run after we were adopted by Writing East Midlands), passing on my love of words to other people and – I hope – encouraging them to find their own magic in writing. After I got a book deal – much to the surprise of my colleagues, who I’dkept my writing a secret from, never daring to dream I might actually get anywhere with it – I had two book launches at two different libraries on the same day.



But libraries aren't just about books. The one I worked at certainly wasn't. There were the people working their way through their family trees. People who came in to use the computers to do their work, type up CVs, look for jobs or simply keep in touch with far-flung friends. People who needed information, who needed help, and it was us they came to – I hope that most of the time, we were able to give them what they needed.



This is why libraries matter. They are important to me on a personal level, but it goes wider than that. I know the difference libraries make to people because I’ve seen it – and I know what a difference they made to me.



We must look after our libraries. They are truly democratic – a space for everyone – and in this age of increasing ever-cuts and austerity, they need to stay that way.

Emma Pass lives in the north east Midlands. Her YA novels ACID and The Fearless are published by Corgi Children’s Books/Penguin Random House. You can find more details about her writing and workshops on her website at www.emmapassauthor.wordpress.com.

Igniting the Creative Spark by Emma Pass

It's been a busy year. I've completed the new draft of a novel which is now with my agent, and it's been fun, but a lot of work. However, writing is not what I've spent most of my time doing this year – probably not even 50%.

I used to have a day job in a library, which I loved, but 4 years ago, it all got a bit much. The pressures of trying to fit almost full-time work around writing and everything that goes with it were making me stressed and ill. Something had to give… so I decided to resign my permanent hours, and start running workshops instead.

I facilitate two creative writing groups, one for adults at a local community centre, and one at a local library for young people aged 4-14, which is supported by writer development agency Writing East Midlands. The latter group has been going in various guises for over 6 years now, and I'm lucky enough to work with a brilliant shadow writer who helps me plan and run the sessions. Recently, went on a trip to a tram museum where the group looked at archive objects, dressed up as tram conductors, rode old trams and wrote stories about it. It was a fantastic day. I couldn’t quite believe that it even counted as "work" – but it did!

Riding on top of an open-top tram

 I get asked to go into schools, too. I've been a Patron of Reading where I not only ran creative writing and literacy workshops, but accompanied a group of students on a weekend away where we made films in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside, and I've done a stint as a First Story writer-in-residence. I also run one-off creative writing workshops for writers of all ages, and have been part of a scheme mentoring other writers wanting to run their own workshops.

But I don't just run workshops on my own. My husband is a painter and printmaker who builds his own printing presses. The biggest, which has a 6-foot wheel, is made out of RSJ girders – the sort you use to build houses! But he's built several smaller ones, too, out of Victorian washing mangles, which are on trolleys so they can be moved around. He does workshops too; in March, we applied for a joint author/artist residency with Inspire Nottinghamshire Libraries – and we got it!

Mangle printing press

The residency was three months long and based around the summer reading challenge which takes place in libraries nationwide every summer. 2018's theme was comics, so it started with us going into two primary schools, where we helped four different classes write and make printing plates for their own giant comic strips which went on display at Worksop library. Then, in July and August, we did a "grand mangle tour" of 12 libraries, running family workshops where participants could write and print their own comics to take home with them.

Mischief Makers exhibition at Worksop Library - artwork by Y5 and Y6 students at St Anne's and Worksop Priory schools

We've also run sessions for a dementia group, and next year we're doing more work with people who have additional needs, as well as family workshops and wellbeing days.

It's been slow to build up (I still have a relief contract with the library), and if you'd told me seven years ago, before I got my first book deal, that all this is what I'd be doing for a living, I'd've looked at you "gone out", as they say round here. That sounds exhausting! I'd've said. Not to mention intimidating!

But it's not. It's wonderful. And the reason it's wonderful is because of the people who come to the workshops. Writing (and art) can be a lonely business – you're there in your office (or studio) day after day, on your own. Getting out there and helping other people to realise that the arts are not elitist but can, and should, be accessed by anyone, is not only fun, but incredibly rewarding. Igniting the creative spark in other people is one of the most important things we, as authors and artists (and musicians and actors and makers and…) can do.

Emma Pass lives in the north east Midlands. Her YA novels ACID and The Fearless are published by Corgi Children’s Books/Penguin Random House. You can find more details about her writing and workshops on her website at www.emmapassauthor.wordpress.com.