Loving the ordinary, a new novel, a secret name, restorative books for horrible times, a little horse

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Hello! Welcome to my newsletter for September/October 2020. In this issue:

An ordinary thing
Work in progress
A new novel
Ever Rest
Meet my friend...
Also meet my friend...
On the blog
A little horse

An ordinary thing

I've seen my hairdresser Andrew at last! He's the partner of Aaron, a longtime friend (who you might remember as Bluebeard). They both came over for the afternoon, we all sat in the garden and chatted while Andrew (in mask and gloves) daubed and snipped.

We discussed a biography of Winston Churchill's cook, who wrote a memoir then burned most of it. Burned it! Why? Because her daughter said: 'Mum, no one will want to read your boring, ordinary life'.
Twenty pages survived, and food historian Annie Gray has expanded it into a chronicle of the 1880s to the 1940s, shown in the working life of one woman. (Victory in the Kitchen: The Life of Churchill's Cook.)
'But ordinary life isn't boring,' we all exclaimed, from our appropriately distanced corners of the garden.

Suppose you could choose any person in any era, and read a few pages of their day-to-day. Who would you choose? We discussed this, naming Roman emperors, film stars, astronauts. Then anyone, actually, not just those who were famous and noteworthy.
Ordinary life can change in an instant. Then it becomes good old times we're sorry to lose, or bad old times we're glad to be rid of. Or times we can't believe.
Ordinary life is also a barometer of things that are important for numerous little human reasons. The ordinary, as any novelist knows, is not trivial.
So I give you a new ordinary of autumn 2020: open air hair. PS It gets cold when your head's slathered with wet dye so wear your thermals and yeti boots.

Work in progress

Editing and mentoring... This month I coached a lady who's writing her astonishing family story as a series of memoirs. I've also edited a campaigning book on self-publishing for the Alliance of Independent Authors. And I've been story-doctoring a psychological thriller for the publisher Inkubator.
Musing... I've always been a notebook filler. Like most writers, I have shelves of them. But as I became more involved with Ever Rest, I stopped. My noticing faculties narrowed, or I needed everything for that one book. Now, I'm back to the notebooks, filling them with story fragments, odd ideas, reflections on what's happening to me and to people I know. I'm reading my old notebooks too. It's like taking a walk with my younger self, who is reminding me of things and people and situations that I know.
Noveling... There is now a new novel. It deserves its own section.

A new novel

Finishing a novel is a two-part experience.
First, relief. Then tumbleweed.
I'm not comfortable with tumbleweed.
I need big projects. Much of my working life is bitty: an edit of this, a polish of that, guiding other writers. That's all good, but I need a main purpose. I also need to be making. Without that, I feel adrift.
But last week, one curiosity met another and sparks flew. Suddenly I had the core of the character's story and a rich special world. I'm beginning my first phase of research.
This book needs a name. I actually have the real title. It arrived, fully formed, with the concept, but I can't tell it to you. It's too revealing, too soon. Also, I'm superstitious about using a title until I have more foundations. Ever Rest, in its early days, was only spoken of as The Mountains Novel.
So what will I call this?
For now, let's call it Four. It worked for Peter Gabriel.
Yes, I know Gabriel Four wasn't officially called Gabriel Four. We'll debate that another time.

Four. My fourth novel, obviously. Four also has a resonance with the true title, which only I know, but never mind.
And I like, very much, the resonance with Peter Gabriel, ever since I saw a documentary of him with a tape recorder, in a field, capturing the sound of a chisel striking the cable on a radio mast, taking it home to his Fairlight and making it into music.

I am inspired by his ethos that the world is alive with material, that you can make your art out of anything you like.
In a similar way, my Four is using traditions that aren't usually seen in literary fiction, so Gabriel is a good guiding angel.
And perhaps I've still got a bit of rock in my system from all the music in Ever Rest. I talked about that here - look for An Exclusive Preview.

Ever Rest

At the end of last month, I was sending Ever Rest to literary agents. I've heard from a few who decided it wasn't for them. Many more have yet to reply.
What about the agent who wrote, in feverish caps, 'SEND IT AT ONCE'?
Nothing yet.
I accidentally discovered he's on Facebook. He's friends with a few of my Facebook friends.
Enormous temptation: should I send a friend request?
I didn't.
But I did peek at his timeline. Was there a note about the manuscript he had to have AT ONCE? No, but it seems he is generally ebullient. I shouldn't read too much into those caps because he does them ALL THE TIME.
The wait continues.

Meet my friend

Tim Harford. His new book, How To Make The World Add Up, has just dropped through the letterbox with a rousing endorsement from Stephen Fry (who said it was 'fabulously readable, lucid, witty and authoritative').
I've known Tim for decades. I remember when he was writing his first book, purely for the love of his subject. It made me think, for the first time, that maybe I could write a book about my subject. Tim's became The Undercover Economist and mine became the Nail Your Novels.

Fast-forward and you might have seen Tim's books, read him in the Financial Times, heard him on his BBC Radio 4 programme More or Less, or on his Cautionary Tales podcast. I'm so proud to see the career that has blossomed because, years ago, he wrote a book about a thing he loved.

Pic of Tim by Fran Monks

Also meet my friend...

... David Bodanis. David was one of my beta-readers for Ever Rest. His latest book is The Art of Fairness: The Power of Decency In A World Turned Mean. David's books celebrate a fascination for world-changing inventions, ideas and people. They have won numerous distinctions and awards, and The Secret House became a critically acclaimed ballet at Sadler's Wells. (A ballet! How many writers do you know whose work became a ballet?)

I met David a few years ago when he was working on a historical novel (not yet published but it thoroughly deserves to be), and now we email for general fellowship, to ping-pong ideas, to brainstorm titles, make coffee dates and other essentials of authorhood. David's latest book, The Art of Fairness, started life with the working title of Good Guys, and features ten historical figures who triumphed without being rotters or cheats. Expect pilots, the producer of Game of Thrones and even the odd president.

I've known about David's book and Tim's book since they were mere twinkles in their creators' grey matter. It's great to see them finally on the page, and there couldn't be a more needful time. Take Tim's for an antidote to fake news, fake statistics and to clear the smokescreens of numerical obfuscation. Take David's to reassure yourself that success and power sometimes go to people who thoroughly deserve them.

On the blog

On the blog this month I had an interview with literary agent Peter Cox, about how to - and how not to - run an online writing community. The pic is taken from the moody intro to his weekly YouTube show, Pop-Up Submissions. I also had a post about how to write a synopsis if you hate writing synopses. Because I've just had to do it and I learned an important lesson.

I'm continuing to post the So You Want To Be A Writer radio show, which I made in 2014-2016 with independent bookseller Peter Snell. Find them on my blog here.

I'm also loading episodes on YouTube if you prefer to listen that way. Find them here.

A little horse

Autumn has arrived. Unsettled weather. Longer darkness. We've changed to the winter stables routine, with less turnout time in the fields.
This time last year, Val found that troublesome. You might remember. I kept discovering he was too cold, was lacking certain minerals, was generally on edge. This time, I have more knowledge.
He seems happy so far. My farrier has noticed too. Previously, he needed to be reassured while he was shod. Every month, his reaction to the farrier was: Who are you and what are you doing to me?
Recently, the farrier said to me: 'He seems to know where he is at last.'

We're about to tackle another seasonal challenge; clipping the thick winter coat.
This can be traumatic. The clippers make a whirring noise like a drill. Unfortunately, if you leave the coat thick, the horse can catch a chill - a hot, sweaty pelt turns cold, clammy and wet.

So when you buy a horse, you ask: 'what does he think of clipping'?
I was told: 'He needs a mild oral sedative if you're clipping his hindquarters, but otherwise he's very good.'
My yard manager does the clipping (it's a specialised skill). Last year, when it was Val's turn, she tried the oral sedative. Once he was sleepy, she introduced clippers. Instant, terrified awakening. She phoned me. 'We'll have to get the vet to dope him, he's too scared.' The vet brought dope in a needle, which I wanted to avoid, because it was a whole extra level of terror and stress.

I don't think the seller lied about the clipping. But Val had known them a long time, and I think that made a difference.
Now we're at clipping time again. Over the past year, he's let me persuade him to accept a lot of new things in riding and handling. So we'll try the plan again. Oral sedative, and I'll be there to reassure. I'll let you know how it goes.

Til next time
R xxx

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