Looking for Richard Part 2

They've found him! Or rather, I should say, we now  have conclusive proof that the skeleton found in the Leicester car park is, indeed, that of Richard III, the last Yorkist king, cruelly maligned by the Tudors. It's the most exciting and moving news for Ricardians everywhere and for the past two days, I've felt quite obsessed. 

As I said in my earlier blog, I went on the Richard III trail in the autumn of 2011, something I'd wanted to do for a very long time.  We began at Bosworth, aware that there is now considerable dispute as to the location  of the battlefield, but very much enjoying the displays at the Centre. After that, it was on to Leicester, first to admire the heroic statue of Richard, and then, armed with a map, I went to look for the possible burial site.  (It was at this point that my husband, who was looking for a chemist so that he could buy painkillers for his back-pain,  somewhat peevishly complained that I seemed to care more about long-dead Richard than I did about him. Not true, of course, but the irony of that remark does not escape me, particularly now we know how Richard may have suffered discomfort from his scoliosis!)  Anyway, I found the plaque on the wall put there by the Richard III Society, and looked down into the car park and reflected, once again, on the unfairness of it all. He, that is Richard III, really didn't deserve such an ignominious fate and I'm glad there's been some redress. 

My first reaction on hearing the news was to sign the petition for Richard III to be interred in York Minster. Decades ago, when I was young and naive, and had mis-remembered the account of Richard's burial place in Rosemary Hawley Jarman's historical romance, "We Speak No Treason", I actually went there to see his tomb, the place where I thought it should rightly be.  Needless to say, I was disappointed.  Now, however (updating my own blog in August 2013) I think it's right and proper that Leicester City should keep him. They've done a great forensic job, and, although Leicester Cathedral lacks the grandeur of York, perhaps it should be remembered that Richard did ride out from Leicester for the Battle of Bosworth and returned there in an ignominious fashion, as an abused corpse flung into a hole in the ground. Time now to give him the respect he deserves and Leicester will do it. 

Looking for Richard

All power to those who've begun the search for Richard III, the much maligned king, who deserves better, in my opinion, that to be interred under a car-park in Leicester. I've always liked Richard and had my gravest suspicions about Henry V11. I went on the Bosworth trail myself last Autumn, and here I am paying my own homage, having almost got run over to get to the statue. I'd like them to give Richard a state funeral if they find him; my husband, ever the optimist, has gone one further and suggested he should be given a Nurofen and restored to the throne. Sadly, I doubt if that can be done, so I may have to content myself with seeing Mark Rylance, if I can get a ticket.

The Last Romantic/Part 2

I believe (although I cannot prove this, and there may be some-one, possibly a centenarian, out there who will contradict me, ) that I may be the last fan of Sir John Martin-Harvey on the planet, a fan, I might add, of an actor who died before I was born, and whose work I only know from books, my collection of Edwardian postcards, and one silent film ('The Only Way' based on 'A Tale of Two Cities) which I had to wait nearly forty years to see, when it was finally screened at the NFT, to my absolute joy and enthrallment. I  loved it, despite the fact that by the time silent movies arrived, Martin-Harvey was twice the age Sydney  Carton is supposed to be, and therefore was recreating a role he'd first played on stage as a much younger man.
I was seventeen when I bought this postcard of Martin Harvey as Sydney Carton (in 'The Only Way')  in 1967, (I'd been in the Portobello Road looking for Henry Irving memorabilia at the time) and it was love at first sight. Here, as I quickly learned, was a man whose theatrical art had embodied everything that appealled to me at that age, romance, a tortured anti-hero bent on self-sacrifice, he'd been the ultimate, tragic, Dickensian rake. And he was so absolutely gorgeous too...no wonder he'd been one of the top matinee idols of his day.
After acquiring the postcard, I embarked on the research; sadly, I was very inexperienced and had no idea how to go about it properly. I remember writing to The Stage, asking for anyone who remembered Martin-Harvey to write to me and received several replies, including one from his daughter, (then, I think, in her late seventies) but I was too shy to follow it up and visit her in person. Such a lost opportunity, particularly as I've since learned from the most recent book on Martin-Harvey that she lived well into her nineties. I wish I could find those letters now; there was one from an actress who'd  appeared in 'The Only Way' and who described the beauty of his voice as he proclaimed 'It is a far, far better thing...' and the agony of having to boo him in her role as a sans-culotte when all she wanted to do was listen.

There are at least three references in literature to Martin-Harvey; one in Elizabeth Taylor, as already mentioned, one in a forgotten novel by Cecil Roberts, 'A Terrace in the Sun' and one in James Joyce's Ulysses, no less, when lame Gertie sees a man on the strand who looks like him, but with a moustache....which she prefers, not being stage struck.
I remain, at my advanced age, very stage-struck.....

The Last Romantic

What is the link between this photograph and the wonderful English novelist,
Elizabeth Taylor, whose centenary is currently being marked by an on-line Readathon? I'll be back later to answer this question!

New Year, New start?

I'm sure that most aspiring writers would agree that seeing something you've written in print is a lovely way to begin a New Year, and I was certainly cheered when the latest 'Silent Companion' came through my door yesterday, containing a short story that I've tinkered with for years (latest title, 'A Ghost's Story for Christmas') and compensating for my woeful failure last year to interest any agent in my novel. Receiving the magazine also, of course, gave me the opportunity to read some excellent stories by friends. I'm lucky to know some very talented writers, many of whom deserve wider recognition for their work and some of whom are enjoying publishing success, always encouraging news.
The 'Silent Companion' is the journal of A Ghostly Company, a delightful society for afficiandos of the ghost story that I joined a few years ago and with whom I've enjoyed some superb weekends, touring, amongst other places, parts of East Anglia associated with the master of the genre, M. R.James. (On a trip to Aldeburgh a few years back, one of our group managed to whistle up a storm, quite literally, in a tour de force that surprised us all, but that's another story.) I'm posting a link to the society in the comments box. New members are always welcome, and non-members are welcome to buy the magazine!

Nostalgia

Caption: The Courtship of Snapperty

Surely I cannot be the only person who grew up in the 1950s who remembers the charming children's book, "Snapperty the Spider"? It was first published in 1956 by Lawson & Dunn, and was written by John de Quincey, an author of whom I know nothing other than that he penned this delightful tale. Here, we see Snapperty, the garden spider, whose mother taught him to make (or 'knit') a web, despite the tradition that dictates webs are the province of females ("Two purl, one plain, Three purl, one plain..." we hear him saying to himself), falling in love with a beautiful lady spider whom he will later marry. A nasty shock, however, awaits him on his honeymoon......erm, well he is a male spider after all!

Still, this is a childrens' book, and I'm pleased to report that, despite the arachnid odds, a happy ending awaits....

Virago Modern Classics

Here's another bookshelf; this time my collection of Virago Modern Classics out in the conservatory (although any sharp eyed book bloggers might spot there's a non-Virago there, far left, top shelf, reason being that I wanted to put the hardback copy of Violet Trefusis's 'Broderie Anglais' that I'd found next to the Virago edition of 'Hunt the Slipper'.

The two shelves represent a mix of books waiting to be read, those waiting to be read a second or third time (I never tire of Elizabeth Taylor) and a few that I may never have time to read again but which I cherish for the gorgeous covers almost as much as for the content. The two I read most recently are at the top (they would be in the middle of this text, except I seem to be too technically inept to do that! Shame on me.)

Anyway, could there be a better marriage of cover and text than those images from the work of the quintessentially, quirky English painter, Sir Stanley Spencer and the quirky eccentric, utterly engaging writing of Barbara Comyns? It's unsurpassed, in my view, and I'm sorry to say I've been very disappointed by some of the recent Virago covers that have appeared lately, the cover for the new edition of Comyns 'Our Spoons Came From Woolworths' being a case in point. The new cover shows a photograph of a young woman with two dogs on a lead and tells us almost nothing about the book other than hinting at the period in which it is set (and why dogs, I wonder, when the heroine of 'Our Spoons Came from Woolworths is devoted to a newt called Great Warty?); the old cover, a detail from Stanley's Spencer's 'Marriage at Cana' is far more indicative of the mood of the book, with all its picturesque incidents and off-the-wall, wry humour.

I'm sorry to say that I frequently fail to buy the new Virago's because of my aversion to the bland new covers, preferring to go without until I can locate one of the lovely old Virago Modern Classic editions, with their painterly covers. (And they seem to be getting increasingly difficult to find these days!)

My New Novel: The Witch-stone or 'I, Morgana'

So far, I've managed to complete 30,000 words of my new novel, and I've sent this 'partial' off to the Romantic Novelists Association New Writers Scheme, a wonderful service that's provided me with a life-line over the past few years, along with Birkbeck College's creative writing classes and another writing class at the lovely Mary Ward Centre. Still no sign of an agent who wants to take on my first novel, 'The Practical Woman's Guide to Living with the Undead', so I'm cutting my losses and forging ahead with the new book this autumn.

Once again, I'm writing a book with a paranormal theme, although this time, it's witchcraft, not vampires. The first chapter begins on a lonely moorland, where a young girl, Jeanie Gowdie, has been taken to pray before a stone, known as the witch-stone... It's all very menacing at first , as her mad Presbyterian father, the owner of the cheerless Knox Hill Guest House, insists that she must never repeat the sins of the ungodly women who were once 'justly punished' in front of the stone, but then Jeanie remembers the words of her wise, hedge-witch grandmother, "Your father's beliefs have as much worth as a blast of gas from a cow's backside" and, after that, she recovers her equilibrium.....

Books contd./Persephone meets the Gothic

My spare bedroom has just had a magnificent makeover, thanks to two talented friends, and, as a result, I now have some new bookshelves to add to the overspilling bookcases that grace almost every other room in the house. It was fun deciding which books to display in such uncluttered glory, and I chose the eclectic approach. Thus, my cherished collection of lovely dove grey Persephone books (Dorothy Whipple, Katherine Mansfield, Monica Dickens etc.) is elegantly arranged between the complete set of Lemony Snicket's 'Series of Unfortunate Events' and three of Tom Holland's Gothic/supernatural novels, including The Vampyre, and on the top shelf, A Dance to the Music of Time is happily wedged between Paul Magrs's 'Never the Bride' sequence and Susanna Clarke's 'Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell'.
I love the books produced by Persephone Press. If I had unlimited resources, including shelf space, I'd buy them all. I used to keep my Persephone Books in the conservatory, under the shelves where I'd placed my collection of green Virago Modern Classics, as seemed fitting, but with the new shelves, I was inspired to move them and let them mingle with the Gothic. I'd love to see Persephone meet the Gothic in real terms--it would be great, for example, to see a Persephone edition of the ghost stories of Cynthia Asquith or Rosemary Timperley, but I have the feeling that isn't going to happen; the supernatural isn't Persephone's bag (although they have published Marghanita Laski's time-slip tale 'The Victorian Chaise Longue'.)
Nevertheless, thank goodness for Persephone and the sterling work of Nicola Beauman in rescuing the writers who have 'fallen through the cracks' and who merit reprinting. The shop in Lambs Conduit Street is a rare haven, and I spent two delightful hours there last night enjoying a 'Possibly Persephone' evening--literary discussion (what book would you like to see reprinted by Persephone?), Madeira, and bread and cheese. Sheer perfection and long may it continue!

Lower Loxley Will Never Be The Same Again

So that's it then. On January 2nd, 2011, sweet, romantic lovable toff Nigel Pargetter fell to his death in what was, depending on your point of view, either a thrilling dramatic moment (and I must congratulate actor Graham Seed on that scream!) or a cynical piece of over-the-top and utterly unnecessary hype to 'celebrate' 60 years of The Archers.

I am devastated and not a little perplexed. Why celebrate the anniversary of the programme by killing an amusing character who loved his wife and children? Why Nigel some of us are asking? If anyone had to die, (and arguably no-one did) why not despatch self-obsessed, control freak, Helen Archer once she'd given birth? And what's going to happen to Lower Loxley now? If all the rumours about the hidden agenda behind The Archers are correct, then perhaps we will see the once-stately home turned into a birthing clinic for single women like Helen who have chosen to dispense with romance and relations with men altogether and have babies by artificial insemination.

Oh dear.....I am, as it happens, the same age as The Archers and the same age as Graham Seed (who was dismissed from the programme at such short notice, against his wishes), so perhaps I'm being over-sensitive, but I'm not the only person to feel outrage. The forums where this programme is discussed are incandescent with fury, in fact, the previously pleasant Archers Addicts site is seething with malcontents and there have been three letters of bitter complaint in the Radio Times.

On January 2nd 2011, Ambridge was due to be shaken to the core, and thus the makers of The Archers broke faith with their audience, shooting themelves in the foot in a spectacular fashion for the sake of publicity and ratings. They lost the plot with that clunky, contrived episode. According to Vanessa Whitburn, the imperious editor of The Archers, listeners were supposed to feel mixed emotions; sadness at Nigel's death, and 'relief that Helen was all right after developing pre-eclampsia. The problem was, no-one liked Helen much, so no-one cared about her, whereas Nigel's death prompted anger and disbelief. What did Miss Prism say about the good ending happily and the bad ending unhappily? Not on The Archers, I'm afraid. Helen's egotism and her unpleasantness to poor Tony (her kindly Dad whose only crime was to suggest it was a shame her baby wouldn't have a father) has been rewarded, and Nigel's been punished by being improbably pitched off the roof of Lower Loxley. It might as well be a tragedy by Thomas Hardy.

January 2nd 2011. The day The Archers died.

Books etc.

Here is the top of my favourite bookcase, the one I call my ‘Haunted Bookcase’ for obvious reasons. The shelves are freighted, two deep, with the Ghostly and Gothic, more piles of books spill on to the floor and I despair of ever reading through my entire collection. And there, on the top, sits my raven, Edgar, between the Grim Reaper bookends and presiding over such personal treasures as my Professor Snape figure and my Weeping Angel.
Over on a far more scholarly blog than this one, a cyber-friend (who, considering what a genial person he seems to be, mysteriously blogs under the soubriquet ‘The Argumentative Old Git’) has produced a list of one hundred essential books, all neatly categorised. It’s the kind of list I envy, being the somewhat slapdash, disorderly person I am. Years ago, when I’d just come out of uni, I might have attempted a similar list, but now, I’m just too shambolic. And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that I’m never going to finish the Decameron and Orlando Furioso, both of which I started (and was enjoying) as a Fresher. So, I’ve decided to start producing a different type of list, based on my bookcases and on which seven books I’d save for each if, for some ghastly reason, I was told I couldn’t keep them all.
So, starting with this bookcase and in no particular order:--
1. Harry Potter. No—I’m not ashamed of loving Harry Potter. I love the way the story arc develops in the sequence of the books, I love the way the themes deepen and darken, and I love Professor Snape. (Why on earth didn’t Lily see that out of James and Severus, Severus was the far more interesting man, Heathcliff to James’s Linton?) So if I can only have one Harry Potter, I’m taking ‘The Half Blood Prince’.
2. All three of Richard Dalby’s Virago anthologies of Ghost Stories.
3. The Complete Ghost Stories of M.R.James---Monty was the Master.
4. John Harwood: The Ghost Writer---a wonderful, creepy novel.
5. Dracula-Bram Stoker. The book no respectable member of the Dracula Society can be without. Have re-read about five times now.
6. Lots of anthologies of vampire stories here; if I can only have one, I’ll take the Penguin Book of Vampire Stories.
7. And finally (I’m going to cheat!) I’ll have the complete Brenda and Effie novels of Paul Magrs (the sequence begins with Never the Bride)—they are an absolute treat.
That’s it for now….

September: Time to get back to work

Well, perhaps a lady of my advancing years should know better, but I've always been of the 'When I grow old, I shall wear purple' disposition. Or rather, in my case, I shall wear black and be a semi-geriatric, semi-Goth, and go on all kinds of literary and film/TV associated pilgrimages. Here I am, this summer, in Bristol, on the 'Being Human' trail, standing outside the house that was inhabited by George, Annie and Mitchell.

Anyway, enough frivolity. It's September, and I have to get back to work on the writing. I'm waiting for the critique of 'The Practical Woman's Guide to Living with the Undead' to arrive from the new writer's scheme that I joined, and I've signed up for yet another novel writing course in London. And soon (maybe) it will be time to start approaching those scary agents again.....

(And yes...I do know that I've misquoted Jenny Joseph...sorry, it's just one of those 'play it again, Sam' things that we all do as we slowly lose our marbles...erm, I think.)

Play Snakes and Ladders? No thanks!

By creating the ‘Authonomy’ site, HarperCollins have provided an invaluable service for unpublished authors, giving them the opportunity to show-case their books on the site, to edit and re-edit their work on the site as often as they wish, and to read and comment on the work of others. I posted my novel on there some time ago, and am now in the process of re-drafting and re-editing the book-there’s nothing like seeing your work in public cyber-space for making you recognise your flaws!
So, I have no complaints about ‘Authonomy’, but I do have some misgivings about the way some of its users appear to be viewing the site, that is, not as an on-line creative writing class, offering support and constructive criticism, but as a literary version of the ‘X-Factor’ or as a ruthless game of snakes and ladders in which it’s perceived as essential to push your book up the ratings in order to reach the ‘Editor’s Desk’ (the Holy Grail of so many participants) by any means possible. Ploys used in this process include ‘backing’ the books of others in order to persuade them to return the compliment, or heaping unconditional praise on the work of others for the same purpose. All this, I have to say, gets in the way of meaningful work-sharing, and is a hollow exercise in self-promotion. Mutual support is one thing; sycophantic grovelling out of self- interest is quite another. (If you do reach the Editor’s Desk, you get a critique of your book, which may prove helpful, but won’t be the Golden Gate to publication. And why should it? )
Of course we all want to be published eventually; nothing wrong in that. But surely it’s just as important to learn to write well first, whether you’re aiming at the literary or the commercial market. I’ve now received about 170 comments on my book, and only about three of them have actually been helpful. The rest of them are just empty phrases of fulsome praise. Now, maybe some of those positive comments have come from people who’ve read the first three pages and dipped into the rest just to get a feel of the book (I wouldn’t expect anyone on Authonomy to waste valuable writing time reading my whole book!), in which case, many thanks. But it’s quite clear that most of these comments have been made by people who’ve only read the pitch and whose only concern seems to be to make me ‘back’ their book, whether I like it or not. One or two writers, mainly, I have to say from the U.S., have even stated this objective categorically in a pushy ‘how about it Buddy?’ tone. I haven’t asked anyone to back my book, and I won’t be doing so. I’d rather someone just stumbled on my work, and read it and offered me some practical criticism, even if it’s just pointing out a typo or two.
As I’ve said on the site, on my profile page:

“I'm here in order to hone my writing and test it out on other readers, who can perhaps suggest ways to improve it and make my work more marketable. I'm not here because I see this site as a route to publication, nor am I playing a snakes and ladders game to reach the editor's desk. In my view, the best way to achieve publication is to redraft and redraft your work, study your craft, pitch your work to agents, and, if you do want a professional assessment, pay a reputable literary consultancy, or join excellent organisations such as the RNA, who offer a wonderful New Writers Scheme.”

And there’s the rub. There’s no quick, magic way to publication. One or two authors have been published after their work has been seen on ‘Authonomy’, but that will be because their work was worth it. Literary success (and arguably any real, artistic success) is the result of 99 percent hard work, and maybe one percent luck.

An Actual Holiday Snap

...but from a very different place from the one in my RNA story . Here I am, in 2010, in Wellington, New Zealand, outside the birthplace of the author whom I consider to be the best woman writer of short stories of all time, Katherine Mansfield. We were on a lovely guided tour, but unfortunately our stay in Wellington coincided with the two days when the house is closed, but at least that gives me an excuse to return some day. I love Katherine Mansfield's work; she is exactly the kind of writer I would like to have been, sharp, sassy, poetic, poignant and insightful. If you haven't read her yet, including her brilliant journals, I urge you to do so. And there's also a superb biography by Claire Tomalin that's not to be missed.

A Little Glamour at Last!

On Wednesday October 18th November, I was privileged, as a contributor, to attend the Launch Party for the RNA anthology 'Loves Me, Loves Me Not' . A lovely evening at the Cavalry and Guards Club in Piccadilly, with champagne flowing, and here we all are, photographed sympathetically on the grand staircase by Phil Weedon. (I'm in the front row, fourth from right, and now I'm wondering whether I should have worn that hat!)

Another Rejection Slip for the Wall!

It took nearly four months, but at last the inevitable happened---the first three chapters of my novel thudded back on to the mat, complete with a standard rejection letter. And then, as I skimmed through the work and the pitch letter I'd sent, I decided the agent was absolutely right---the whole thing needed a revision and a polish. So--not a negative thing at all, I've been spurred on to work harder.

And meanwhile, there's been the excitement of seeing 'Loves Me, Loves Not' appearing in bookshops like Waterstones and W.H.Smith, with my name in it, and my short story, 'Holiday Snaps' alongside the names of writers like Katie Fforde and Joanna Trollope. And the Mechanics Institute Review 6 is out too, containing my other short story. So I'm in a 'my glass is half full' kind of mood....

And I've visited the post office again...nil desperandum!

And while I'm here......a link....

http://rnaanthology.blogspot.com/

to the RNA anthology that I'm appearing in later this year----rubbing shoulders with many famous names and getting excited about it, I admit!

May Update

More (for me!) exciting news---I've had a short story accepted for the annual anthology 'The Mechanics' Institute Review' and this will be appearing the autumn. It's a ghost story, 'Last Bus to Elsinore', set in South London in the early fifties---- Hamlet meets austerity Britain! I'm particularly fond of this story and am hoping to incorporate into a longer work.

Last week, I packaged up the first three chapters of my vampire novel and posted it off to an agent, but I'm not holding my breath. I know how these things usually end, and I expect the gentle thud of jiffy bag upon door mat any day now.......and I've also sent off another short story to a magazine known for its 'feelgood' stories. I don't do 'feel good' very often, (although I often do write positive endings)----but there are lot of ghosts, vampires and murders on the way, definitely a 'no, no' for this particular publication. So I've really had to rein in my penchant for the dark here.......

Did I pick the wrong vampire?

A few years ago, I happened to mention to a literary agent that I was working on a vampire novel. 'Forget about writing about vampires', he emailed back, 'There's no market for vampire stories'. Well, all I can say is that I hope that the said gentleman was not approached by Stefanie Meyer with her 'Twilight', trilogy, or by now, he will be feeling even sicker than the man who turned down 'Harry Potter'.

Vampires have never been more zeitgeisty. Not only has there been the phenomenal success of 'Twilight', there's also been the Swedish best seller , 'Let the Right One In', and, as everyone knows, since the literary agent told me to 'forget' vampires, we've had Buffy on TV and all the spin off books from that. And the Sookie Stackhouse novels, and 'Undead and Unwed'---there are countless others!

None of which means, of course, that my book is going to get published, although it does prove the literary agent wrong. (Maybe he was the same person who told Richard Adams not to write about rabbits---anyone for 'Watership Down'?) But there is one thing. All the popular vampires at the moment are young and sexy. Think Robert Pattinson. Or at least they look young, even though they've been dead for 100 years or so. My vampire is elderly, elegant, charming and very camp---definitely not a suitable love interest for my heroine.

Oh dear----I'm reminded of the old joke---the vampire rises from his coffin, and seeing Van Helsing holding out a crucifix, says, in a yiddish accent, 'Have you picked the wrong vampire!!"

Well, have I?

Here's a link......

http://www.authonomy.com/Profile.aspx


To my page on the Harper Collins 'Authonomy' site, where aspiring writers can post their unpublished work. My novel, The Practical Woman's Guide to Living with the Undead, is there in its entirety----I describe the book as 'Divorce Lit with vampires'--it's a romantic fantasy for the reader ready to venture into the dark territory beyond the Aga!