Long Break

With grand plans made in May, I have left this blog off somewhat since July.  Life does have a habit of happening, in such a way as to distract you.  But here I am again, with my ponderous literary thoughts.

I have found a plot, I believe, and a new desire to see it through.  My concern now is what era should it be placed in?  Should it be shoe-horned into a certain time, or should it be set in it's original time?  I am following a true literary tradition and am going to steal a classical story, as the greats have done before me.  And why indeed should I not?

But can a nymph be placed in an office?  Can a god be a financier? I think so, if I am writing a bog standard love story, which I think I am.  It is a starting point and I am entirely untrained.  Not to say that romantic fiction is a lower genre - I do not believe that it is.  I feel that everything has its own place, and if a book is enjoyed, then it is as relevant and important as anything else.  It just perhaps does not have the polish of Middlemarch.

And does a good story have to be a shining example of word craft?  Agatha Christie's work is not high literature - nor indeed are the plots particularly great - but they are so readable.  I have been devouring a number of hers recently, and the best by far was The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.  I finished At Bertram's Hotel last night, and quite frankly it left me a little non-plussed. But I did enjoy reading it.

I believe that I shall set aside my aspirations for a work that will set me to immortality, and just write something that can be published, read and enjoyed.  

Epic

My first love, and my truest love, is the classical world.  The myths shaped my childish imagination and the art and literature fuelled my education.  The stories are so rich and vivid, and upon reading the words Sing Muse, I am always lifted in spirit eager to enter this ancient and wonderful world.  All books should begin this way.

The Greek myths cannot be beaten in terms of wealth of character and wealth of story.  All human life is explored, without moralising and without dilution.  The gods punish and reward, they fight and control, they make poor choices and mortals must endure the outcomes of their actions.  Allegory is made fun and memorable.  I still think of Demeter losing her daughter Persephone every autumn, when the leaves turn brown and Persephone must return to her husband Hades, and the earth is barren until spring.  I have yet to read a tale of the changing seasons that is more poetic.

At the tender age of 14 I began to truly study classical literature and art.  At 17 I read it for A level and fully indulged myself in this world four times a week for 2 years.  I read Plato and Socrates, I lived the Oresteia (so much so that felt that I had been at Troy), I studied the wonderful art.

In terms of my own writing, I am very attracted to the idea of taking a classical story and spinning my tale around it.  If George Bernard Shaw could get away with it, then so can I.  One scene from the siege of Troy struck me at 17 as the most hopelessly romantic moment possible.  It is the moment that the great hero Achilles mortally wounds Penthesilea, the Amazon Queen. In the thick of battle, he pierces her armour and as she turns to see her killer, their eyes meet and for one awful, glorious moment they fall in love.

 

I am currently re-reading Ovid’s Metamorphoese for inspiration.  Perhaps I can find a section of this poem to use.  I am only in Book 1, so shall have to plough forward purposefully before I lose momentum.  Failing that I can try to do a bodice ripper based around The Odyssey in the vein of Fifty Shades of Grey and make the most of rosy fingered dawn.  Snigger snigger.

Actual, Factual

I am currently lucky enough to write for a regional magazine in Leicestershire.  This regular spot allocated to me by sheer chance has allowed me to write articles on historical properties in the area in which I live, which are then read by 10,000 or so.  Each article is accompanied by my smiling face, as I impart my knowledge of English history in a nutshell.

Today I have been researching the history of Brooksby Hall, a small manor house in the heart of the county, which was once a Viking settlement and is now a local college and wedding venue.   The place itself is not very impressive – not much has happened there, but the people that have lived and died there are another kettle of fish.

It is the birthplace of George Villiers (1592-1628) who later became the lover of King James I, and was created 1^st Duke of Buckingham.  He dragged England into war with France over a desire for King Lois XIII’s wife (and angered a jealous Cardinal Richlieu), and was fictionalised in Alexandre Dumas’ Three Musketeers (1844).

James Brudenell, 7^th Earl of Cardigan (1797-1868) owned the property for a spell, and buried his favourite hunter, Dandy, under the lawn in front of the house.  He rode Ronald in 1854 as he commanded the Charge of the Light Brigade at the Battle of Balaclava.  This famously disastrous moment in British military history was celebrated in the way only Britain can, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s poem of the same year.

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!" he said.

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

And so on.

What I particularly enjoy about researching historical happenings is the feeling of immersion in a book, looking up and seeing that an hour has passed without any realisation on my part.  And likewise I take great pleasure in reading fiction based on historical fact.  Currently I am reading Pure by Andrew Miller.  He was inspired to write a novel about the clearance of a churchyard after reading a description of the 1787 works.  The grounding of the story against fact lends a weight to the work that a purely fictional tale can lack.

I just need to find my event or person.... 

Barbara Pym

Barbara Pym is my favourite author.  She is not hugely read, and has not produced a large body of work, but what has been published is gentle, soothing literature.

Her stories are more about character than plot, indeed the first book I read, Excellent Women (1952) left me asking ‘what was that?’.  There was no real story to follow, nothing really that could fill a novel.  But it was so beautiful to read.  I picked her up again a few years later, to see if there was more to see.  Jane and Prudence (1953) was next, quickly followed by Some Tame Gazelle (1950) and then No Fond Return of Love (1961), all read in quick succession.  The characters, all exploring the relationships between men and women, religion and the ridiculousness of people and everyday life, became one large cast in my mind.  Each heroine reflected aspects of the time, all a little self-absorbed, all a little selfish.  Like real women.

Some Tame Gazelle was my favourite for some time, but then I read A Glass Of Blessings (1958).  These two are, in my view, the most humorous of Pym’s work, and the most claustrophobic.  They both comment on Anglicanism, with C of E clergy and curates featuring strongly.  They ask, what role does the clergy fill for women, and how do women use the clergy?  They are safe relationships, where the married and unmarried heroines can indulge themselves in obsession which isn’t permitted in the secular world.

For my purposes I do not feel that I have the ability to write a story with no plot.  Pretty prose can be achieved, but weaving together characterisation in an effective and affective way, perhaps not.  But the era in which they have been written, post war, post rationing England, is very appealing to me.  I like the green and pleasant land ideal very much.  The sheer Britishness of it all.  But maybe I am just feeling the effect of the Jubilee.   All the flag waving has worn off on me and I am subconsciously yearning for the start of Her Majesty’s reign.

Oh, Horror!

The horror genre is one, I must admit, that has never really appealed to me.   Like any good child of the 1980s I read Goosebumps and then Point Horror to ease myself into the darker world of real horror writing to fuel the torment of my adolescence.  I didn’t really get on with it, discovered Mills and Boon and so fuelled the hopeless romance of my adolescence instead.

Having said that, this is not a genre that I avoid.  I have read some Stephen King novels and found Carrie to be excellent.  I don’t find the concept of haunting frightening, but instead the reaction of people under stress or some psychosis.  What could possibly happen in reality is always worse than something impossible.  Something truly dark, truly horrid that lives within us all, but we do not speak of it.  When it is uncovered and we face it, then I believe horror is seen. In 120 Days of Sodom, De Sade wanted to create "the most impure tale that has ever been written since the world exists."  It tells of rape, murder, kidnap, abuse and torture.  The heroes are the worst that men can be, and the crimes of the book are given in terrible detail.  Generally this book is not classed as horror, but as either Gothic writing or pornography.  I read it as part of a Surrealism course at University and found it very challenging.  It is entirely different and apart from anything else I have ever read and is not a work that I wish to emulate.  It describes real crimes and horrors that can and have happened to real people.  It is a piece of true horror writing.

The creation of tension in a book is a great skill.  I have recently read two horror novels that both work with tension very expertly and both have ghosts.  Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black is a great piece of claustrophobic horror.  The whole book was enhanced by my reading of it whilst my husband was working away.  I would sit in bed alone, un-nerving myself whilst the rat that lived in the loft scrambled and scratched away.  Very atmospheric.   Sarah Waters’ The Little Stranger was a different kind of tension.  Because the ghost is not seen by the narrator, and indeed is doubted several times, the reader has to choose whether the ghost is real, or a manifestation of the losses caused to the Ayres family.  But when the ghost is haunting, the tension is wonderfully and chillingly written.

I think that my story will not be a horror.  That is not to say however that only nice things will happen.  If it is to reflect life, then tension, and indeed unpleasantness, will be addressed.

Slightly Torn Bodice

As part of genre research, to find my fit, I power-read The Secret Pearl by Mary Balogh.  I have read this particular book, and indeed this author, many times as I have a weakness for books that just unfold in front of me and require very little mental effort.  As opposed to most bodice rippers, Mrs Balogh does not create abrasive feisty heroines, who have feminine principles that are incongruous with the era in which it is set.   Her heroines are trapped by the social norms of the early 19^th Century and I feel that the books are made richer for that.

This poses the question, does the reader of such fiction want a heroine indicative of the times or to picture herself in a pretty dress being crossed in love?  Do I read faux Regency love stories because I really want to read a saucy Pride & Prejudice?  Probably, yes.  I do.  Do I want to read about Mr Darcy doing rude things to Elizabeth Bennett?  Yes, but not Mr Collins and poor Charlotte Lucas.  That would not be a steamy, titillating scene.

Vampire Sex Novels are also going through a strong period of popularity.  The JR Ward Black Dagger Brotherhood series, which is a bit of an endurance test, combines a complicated eternal battle between good and evil with very graphic sex scenes.  Kresley Cole’s Immortals After Dark series is far more light hearted and combines lots of different creatures of mythology to create a cast of thousands.  And then of course there is Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse novels which tell a drawn out love story and so keeps me buying each of the series because I want to know which vampire the heroine picks.

These books have no foot in reality, and allow for complete escapism.  There are no difficult historical facts to work around and in each case the vampires have traits that allow the author to use them as they will.  Cole’s vampires can teleport, Ward’s don’t drink from humans and Harris’ are integrated with human society.  And that is the joy of using mythology - it is totally freeing to the author.  If there are rules to comply with, then you are immediately trapped.

Is the answer then to write a steamy Regency vampire sex novel with no regard for historical fact?

Start

I have decided to write a novel.  What it will be about, what genre, what message it carries, is currently unknown.  But it will be written. 

This blog has been created to chart my progress (if any) as I write my story.  This is step one: a thought whilst lying in the bath.  By telling the story of my story, then my story will begin.

To write what one knows.  I am no Austen, nor am I a Winterson.  But I have lived almost 30 years and I have engaged with the world, so I hope that a story is within me and is ready to be extracted.  Failing that, I will write a bodice ripper.  I’ve read a lot of those.