How to remember Christmas - by Lu Hersey

It’s that time of year again. A few days off and you might think you’re going to be able to finish a draft or a book edit, or maybe get some brilliant new ideas jotted down on paper. Well, forget it now. You won’t. Or at least, I won’t. December is basically sabotaged by a logistical nightmare called Christmas.

I was talking to my father earlier, trying to pin down the size of the turkey we needed while listening to his lugubrious ‘if I’m spared’ remarks about his chances of making it to Christmas dinner. He’s 90, so I guess it’s fair enough, but I felt like screaming Dad, it’s less than two weeks away, and we seriously need to talk about the turkey. Just try and live another ten days, and I’ll do the rest!

While we were discussing life, possible death and turkeys, he told me there were only two Christmases in his entire life that he really remembered. One was when he was doing national service and his ship was moored in Penang - he spent Christmas by a swimming pool at a rubber plantation, with a gibbon wrapped around his neck. The other was when he was a boy, and the house next door caught fire. He and my grandfather rushed out to watch the flames shooting out of next door’s roof, leaving my grandmother to wrestle with the turkey.

Anyway, it got me thinking about the whole business of Christmas and how one turkey Christmas dinner generally blurs into another. It’s only when something different happens that you remember it. One of my daughters is in Australia this year, and sent me a picture of a dawn trip to a deserted beach, where Kangaroos were boxing. She’ll remember that for the rest of her life, and I’m really pleased she’s having that experience and not worrying about the impracticalities of turkey to oven ratios.

I asked my other kids (all adult now) if there were any Christmases they remembered from childhood. Apparently the one that stood out was the one when I didn’t realise the turkey gall bladder had burst into the gravy, and ruined everyone’s Christmas lunch by pouring it over their plates for them (they were too young to pour it themselves). Pfft. All I can say is at least it made for a memorable Christmas, and they learnt the true meaning of the phrase ‘bitter as gall’.

Gallstones are surprisingly attractive. (This has nothing to do with turkeys, but it's interesting)

I polled a number of writer friends to find out if other families fared any better. One told me that she and her daughter decided one year to ban family altogether, and just do what they wanted. They went swimming in the morning and had fish for lunch – and had the best Christmas ever. I have to say, this made me feel envious. No wrestling with family feuds and giant turkeys sounds like heaven.

Swimming on a freezing Christmas day is a popular pastime

Christmases from childhood that people remembered were either ones where they got amazing presents (bicycles featured a lot here) or books that changed their lives (ALL writers get excited by books) – or those disappointing Christmases when the truth about Father Christmas was finally revealed (one writer told me she was six when her father came into the room with a pillow case on his head - which sounds even spookier than seeing an old man with a white beard and a herd of reindeer…)

Books like these made many a memorable childhood Christmas

Christmases spent abroad cropped up in several accounts – like Sally Nicholls, who at 18 spent her Christmas working in a hospital in Japan. Although Christmas wasn’t celebrated there, on Christmas day she and some fellow expats put on a variety show for the patients, including renditions of English songs translated into Japanese. She can still sing ‘Gloop, gloop went the little green frog one day’ in Japanese, proving it was definitely a Christmas to remember.

Romance makes for a Christmas to remember too. HuwPowell  proposed to his (now) wife on Christmas Day, and Jenny Sullivan’s (now) husband spent three hours trying to get her father on his own one crowded family Christmas to ask for her hand in marriage. Apparently it's also a lovely time to discover you're having a baby, even if it means you can’t drink (possibly another reason these Christmases were remembered better than others...)

Last but not least, the magic of a white Christmas. Several people found snow falling at Christmas made it particularly memorable (it doesn’t ever snow here in the West Country at Christmas, so I may need to drive north one year to experience this…).

As it turns out, no one I asked said that writing or editing their book made for a memorable time, so think I’ll abandon that idea right now. Too late to book a trip to Oz for a beach bbq, but am hoping to make this a Christmas to remember without ruining the gravy – and hope you all have a good one too. Maybe we can compare notes in January…

Lu Hersey
www.luhersey.com
Twitter: @LuWrites

A Reluctant Blog Post by Tracy Alexander

So, it’s less than twelve hours until my blog on ABBA is due and I’ve given it no thought because:

It’s sunny.

It’s the holidays.

I only have until 31^st October to finish my book.

It’s my niece’s birthday and I had to buy her a present.

My mum needs a cataract operation and I spent ages on the phone sorting it out.

There were blackberries begging to be picked.

It took 45 minutes to cycle to where the blackberries were waiting to be picked.

My son is in Bangkok, trying to get to Sydney but the flight has been delayed 26 hours and counting.

It’s still sunny.

My daughter has just come home from a day’s shopping in Bath with her friend.

She bought a camera.

I have annoyed her by saying she should have bought it from a ‘proper’ shop in case it goes wrong.

I’m hungry.

I have no insights worth sharing.

But, I have a commitment so please find below a brain dump of all the things that I’m finding difficult, writing wise:

In a sequel, how much of the earlier story do you need to put in? It’s hard to judge. Too much will bore the reader who already knows the background, too little and it won’t make sense to the disobedient reader approaching them in the wrong order.

How do I refer to my character given that she has several pseudonyms? I keep putting in aka and annoying myself.

I have chosen a structure that alternates between current day and several years ago. Do I need to give the chapters headings to help the reader or shall I assume they are capable of keeping up with me?

I set the first book in Bristol, where I live. The second is set in Leeds. It seemed a good idea as I went to university there, but when I looked at a street map I realised my memory is unreliable. Does it matter?

In between fretting about the plot, I am conscious that I should be thinking about publicity for the first book, out in November. Even the word makes me feel like watching Breaking Bad and eating dark chocolate with dried cranberries. Does the fact that it’s the holidays mean I can shelve those thoughts until September? (Do any writers relish the idea of ‘selling’ their books?)

My character has a trip to Yemen. I have read relevant blogs and spent far too much time on trip advisor. As the work is fiction, how authentic must it be? Do I need to find someone who has been there to check what I’ve written?

(I am enjoying asking all these questions. It’s like having an imaginary friend.)

I have endlessly googled bomb-making, and similar, will there be a knock on my door one day? Do other authors erase their search history?

Would you mind if I stopped now, and went to fry the turkey strips? (I know, what possessed me to buy them?)

www.tmalexander.com