Celebrating my book birthday today by er… making myself watch my book launch video 😬🤪🙈
If you like the sound of The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter, you can get it from any good bookshop or online e.g. https://amzn.to/2xQtuXY
Celebrating my book birthday today by er… making myself watch my book launch video 😬🤪🙈
If you like the sound of The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter, you can get it from any good bookshop or online e.g. https://amzn.to/2xQtuXY
The transitional stage of labour has nothing on the final stages of writing a novel. 😫 I’m having my fourth (novel), but it’s no easier – or should I say, I’m no easier. I constantly shush my family; you’d think I was writing straight to Audio book. News of visitors coming is met with screams of horror and finger counting of missed writing hours (including those needed to make the home and myself look non-deranged). At least I haven’t been as bad as during the final days of my first novel, when the family had me committed into the hotel down the road.
So, what’s my problem? It’s taken more than a year to get here; I should be thrilled. But:
So, how does one finish a novel considerately? I’ve no idea. But you should probably atone somehow, when it’s all over. Unfortunately, I can’t promise it won’t happen again; most unfeasibly, I’ve already been implanted with an idea for the next novel. 🙄
My previous tantrums produced The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter, published by Urbane Publications, and you can get it from good bookshops or online e.g. https://amzn.to/2xQtuXY 💡🌊📘
Pier painting by the wonderful Juan del Pozo
The leap of faith needed to write a novel has to be as downright daft as the final shot in Finding Your Feet – but without the option of a musically enhanced freeze-frame to stop you falling between canal edge and barge.
Even writing my fourth, I’ve been purposefully not glancing down at the yawning gap between my dawdling MS and a physical book, because lurking in the swirling waters below are the following two familiar questions:
A few months ago, this second question became impossible to ignore. It turns out there’s a reason why family sagas are chunky or in a series: unless you’re going to reduce some events in your 75-year story to mere bullet points, you just can’t cover it in my usual little 75K words.
‘Be not afraid of going slowly,’ says a Chinese proverb, ‘be only afraid of standing still.’ Believe me, when something’s going at a rate of 1mm per month, and you then discover there’s going to be several kilometres added to your journey, you’d best be VERY afraid.
So, here comes my top tip for getting a novel written. To have a chance of finishing it in my current lifetime, I started making myself WRITE A CHAPTER A WEEK. This game makes me grab writing time whenever I can – no more precious waiting for a whole free morning to get into the zone. Inessentials (laundry, tidying anything) don’t happen until I’ve done the chapter. Tuesday’s Bake Off marks the cake-fuelled half-way point, and I expect to be all done and smug for Saturday’s Strictly. I now feel that, unless I fall into a sinkhole or something, I WILL finish it. I even have a tentative date for that. NaNoWriMo freaks or bestselling cash-cow novelists would be appalled, but other writers might want to give this plan a go. You still don’t know if anyone will want to read it of course, but at least it shortens the gap between you and the barge or canal water.
My previous leap of faith landed me on a lighthouse. The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter (Urbane Publications) is available from Waterstones and other good bookshops, as well as online e.g. at https://amzn.to/2xQtuXY
How do you pick 5 songs for the soundtrack to your life? This was one of five questions in my most taxing but favourite online interview so far.
(Many thanks to @JillBookCafe. Check out FIVE ON FRIDAY in jillsbookcafe.wordpress.com to see others put through it).
Blimey, are all the questions going to be this hard? Having put myself through these agonising decisions, I thought I’d make a Spotify playlist of them: http://sptfy.com/Eyj ENJOY!
Life on Mars? (David Bowie)
My big brother bought this LP, and I remember sitting on the carpet, legs all anyhow, poring over the album sleeve. Who was this strange, wonderful man? Until then, music had meant my parents’ Light Classics, used by my friend and me for hilarious made-up ballets in the living room. This was something else; Bowie took me somewhere I’d never been.
Étude Opus 10, No. 3 for Piano (Chopin)
Fast forward to Music College, where my Polish piano teacher had me playing plenty of Chopin. So beautiful, so emotional… so bloody difficult! Chopin will also remind me of my love of the piano, even if that love is not fully requited (I have pathetically small hands). This is just one of my favourites – and probably one of Jerome Kerns’ too, because Smoke Gets in Your Eyessounds just like it. [Listens as adds it to Spotify Playlist]. Hm. Bit teary.
Shining (Steel Pulse)
Let’s cheer up a bit with this irresistible bit of reggae. There’s so much going on in this track – busy bass line, percussion bitty-bobs and delicious vocal harmony asides everywhere – one play is never enough. And oh, the lyrics – including a classic line for a late developer like me: You took your time trying to find out what life, what life, what life has in store for you… You’ve guessed it: my wedding video music.
Como Me Duele Perderte / How it Hurts to Lose You (Gloria Estefan)
I came across this when I started Salsa dancing as part of research for my first novel, Men Dancing. Its bitter-sweet sadness matches both the novel and what was happening in my life at the time, but the song also reminds me of those early exciting but scary days of being a writer.
Dos Puñales / Two Daggers (Josemi Carmona, Paco de Lucía)
I’ve done well to limit the flamenco here to 20%, when it’s probably taking up 80% of my iPod. This is a wondrous example of flamenco fusion; it’s earthy but accessible, and beautifully produced. I love the way the music seems to have a narrative – whatever you want. A tweet asking where I could get hold of the album (Las Pequeñas Cosas), followed by a later one asking about this track, eventually led to a friendship with the artist. This chance connection was one of the inspirations for The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter.
I don’t play as much as I like or should, but when I need it (because I’m bored / fed up / nervous / happy / miserable, waiting for something), I have to have it, now. One of the reasons I enjoy teaching piano is that I want my darlings (adults and children) to have this wonderful support and delight in their lives.
I’m generally uncomfortable in locations that aren’t near the sea; there’s a sort of a background feeling of if I’m not near the edge, where the hell am I. Exceptions like Madrid and… (can’t actually think of any others right now) have to have a lot going for them. My current distances from the sea (by foot, door to wet toe) are 10 (Eastbourne) and 3.5 (Almería) minutes.
Why do I love it? The salty smell, its ever-changing colours and moods, and (most) of the beautiful creatures in it. I’m susceptible to flour-soft sand, but I also love beaches where I can collect stones and shells. I’m a keen (if three-limbed – see later!) swimmer, and during Summer and Autumn I’ll check the flag, put on my beach shoes and be in whenever I can (in both countries). It’s also the best place (along with the bath) for getting writing and plot ideas.
Home in Spain
I’ve only had this little town house in San José (near Almería) for a couple of years, but now don’t know how I coped without it. My half-Spanish mother brought me up to be a hispanophile, so for as long as I can remember I’ve been drawn to the country and its people. I also get very miserable and lethargic when starved of bright natural light and warmth, so escaping there lets me recharge my batteries. Although my Spanish is at a high level, I can still zone out of conversations around me – perfect for writing under a beach umbrella.
I’m not a foodie, but I’m insanely excited about these fragrant and spicy flavours and the flowery presentation. Spain needs to discover it; its absence there is one of the few reasons I ever want to come back to Blighty.
It would probably do me good to live without my mobile for a while, I’m on it far too much, but the pain of being separated from my WhatsApping friends (including Spanish ones I can’t see as much as I’d like), Twittermates and Instagram would be considerable.
Put more face, hand and sun cream on
I thought I’d be young forever. But if I’m still not listening now, I certainly wouldn’t have listened then. Sticky, messy stuff.
Label and date your photos
Uh, those boxes of loose photos with vaguely recalled faces and scenery…
Don’t lose contact with people you care about
Petty arguments or laziness caused me to lose contact with some friends.
I was such an intense young person, playing melancholy piano and sitting around reading Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus. Can’t think how anyone put up with me. A year abroad (with light and warmth!) would have done me good.
Yes, you can write a book!
I should have taken the course, bought one of those elasticated leather notebooks, stopped making excuses, and started writing much earlier.
I used to be a keyboard player in a band
For some years, I was a piano teacher doing the day and played in a band a few nights a week. The second band I joined even had a single out; I’ll be in trouble for not including it in my five soundtracks, but you’d be glad I didn’t!
I used to be a post-doctoral scientist
I re-trained, and worked for Moorfields Eye Hospital for many years as an optometrist and post-doctoral researcher.
I used to be a ballerina
…at the Royal Ballet. No, just kidding! But I did teach piano at the Royal Ballet Junior School for some years – and got free tickets. Maybe in my next life.
I have limited use of my right arm
I have a congenital problem with my shoulder that makes it painful for me to open a door or lift anything as heavy as a hardback book with it. An operation didn’t help. But I can somehow do reasonable flamenco arms, and swim without going around in circles!
I almost died of pneumonia over the millennium
The last eighteen years – including the publication of my three novels – have been a bonus.
Having my book out in Spanish
The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter has equal male and female, English and Spanish viewpoints – Bicultural People Fiction! I’d love to see it in Spanish, and give it to some of my Spanish friends whose English isn’t good enough to read it in its present form.
Tour South America
I’d like to visit the places where my half-Spanish mother grew up, and more. My cousin and I have talked about it, but… This is what I should have been doing in my maudlin early twenties!
Learn how to high dive
Researching high diving for my next novel, this has become my new ballet. Ah, and I’d like Greg Louganis to teach me (check out the documentary film Back on Board and you’ll see why – what a lovely man).
Learn how to cook Thai food
Family over shoulder: ‘What? Learn how to cook anyfood!’
Have a grandchild
But not too soon, boys!
The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughteris available – currently only in English 😦 – from good bookshops, or online at Foyles, Books etc, Waterstones or this place: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lighthouse-Keepers-Daughter-Cherry-Radford/dp/1911583646/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1529011473&sr=8-1&keywords=cherry+radford
Despite the unreliability of my writing hormones post(book)partum, you’re going to get my first impressions of being newly delivered of a shiny book baby.
After years of gestation; antebooknatal tests (i.e. proofs – sorry, enough); online interviews about my inspirations and stuff like The Five Things I (shouldn’t) Want My Readers to Know About Me; a couple of bladder-pressing stints on radio… The Day arrived.
Inviting people to my book launch had felt like such a huge conceit, but it’s quite staggering how many seem to want to come to these things. With the bizarre This-is-Your-Life type gathering, it feels a bit like a wedding – until the horrific realisation that, apart from the publisher doing a brief intro, you’ll be doing ALL the speeches. In my case at Waterstones Piccadilly, surrounded by photos of illustrious previous launchers…
The next morning – feeling a bit sick after attempting to finish off the lighthouse cupcakes on the train home – my phone hand goes into cramp as I attempt to keep on top of tidal waves of social media. This must be what it’s like to be famous, I’m thinking… until one human offspring informs me that Amazon has decided products related to my new novel include Tart Cherry Extract Capsules, and Deep, an erotic military romance. The other boy has unbelievably managed to enter the barbed tangle of Goodreads.com, and found a quick-off-the-mark 1-star detractor complaining about my female protagonist’s lack of (selfie-worthy) interest in her appearance.
I was going to go swimming, get on with the day, but this new book baby wants constant care: even after just a quick bath, I come back to 23 Twitter notifications screaming for attention. Oh, and of course I feel the need to check the book’s development, compared with other new-borns… in the Amazon Sales Ranks. I soon had post(book)natal depression – meaning a squashed tip to my Amazon-tapping index finger.
In the end I reasoned that, since much of the book was written in bed, it was fitting to have a postbookpartum pyjama day to celebrate. After years of abortive efforts (see My Potholed Path to Publication post), I finally have what I want, as long as I keep my expectations realistic. Much as I’d like my book to grow up to be a bestseller, it will be nurtured by an energetic independent publisher rather than one of the moneyed big five. We’ll give it all the best chances we can of course – but I also need to get on with giving it a sibling!
New and shiny The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter is available from https://amzn.to/2xQtuXY
Compared to a play or concert, a novel can give us three times as many hours of entertainment, at a third or less of the cost. At the end of a show, we spend 5 minutes either clapping politely or stamping and cheering; shouldn’t we do at least as much for a novel we’ve just enjoyed? We can. It’s called writing an Amazon review.
We can, but only a tiny percentage of us ever do – and even these wonderful people (ahem) let good books go by un-applauded. Why?
So write less! It’s better than nothing. Guilt: how could I not leave a review for Tony Parker’s Lighthouse? Invaluable research, and I adored it. [Spends 5 minutes giving it a short but heartfelt 5-star review]
But it might be someone else’s; they need to know about it. Give 3 stars and get on with it. The writer won’t mind; Amazon works in weird ways, giving a book with fifty 3-star reviews more visibility than one with ten 5-star reviews.
I usually save 1 or 2 star reviews for electric blankets, but once in a while I feel the need to share that a hyped-up novel was a massive disappointment.
It doesn’t matter, you just need to have spent at least £40 through your Amazon account. Nice try.
Meaning, “I don’t want to look thick among the blogger/author/pro reviewers.”
Do a refreshingly minimalist one then, or see REVIEW PLAN below.
Good grief. OK, here goes:
Click: the book -> Customer Reviews -> Write a Review.
Click on the stars. Careful – it’s amazing how many people dither here and end up writing a glowing but ONE star review.
In Write Your Review, say what you liked / didn’t like in anything between 1 sentence or a mini essay (see below). The Headline for Your Review can be a phrase you’ve just used. Press SUBMIT. DONE!
PLAN for the perfect Amazon/Waterstones/Goodreads review (IMHO):
OK, this kind of review takes a little longer. But sometimes you want to do a standing ovation.
The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter is available (AND REVIEWABLE) from: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lighthouse-Keepers-Daughter-Cherry-Radford/dp/1911583646/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1521632737&sr=1-1&keywords=cherry+radford
The book launch is certainly a rich source of over-angst for the pre-pub worrywort. With only a month to go, I’m asking myself:
Why do so many people want to come?
Lovely of them of course, but it’s beginning to feel like a p-p-p-party. Listen, I’ve spent years at my desk – no, in bed – writing and redrafting this novel; I barely remember how to answer a phone, let alone mingle. Go easy on me.
What sort of an author goes into shock on being asked ‘so what’s your book about?’
Well of course I know what it’s about; it’s like asking a tree about the flavour of its sap. The trouble is, like a tree, I appear to be unable to form the words to describe it. I used to have occasional clarity on this, but being constantly tested by well-meaning friends has reduced me to a manic ‘dunnofuckoff.’ [Cuts out and Sellotapes blurb for fastening to forehead].
Pen poised to sign a book for a friend I’ve known for ten years, will I forget their name?
Probably. If I suddenly dash to the loo with phone (to look through hundreds of emails), it’s you – and I’m really sorry. I’m currently involved in two parallel worlds (that of The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter and my 3-generational WIP); I’m all named out. What’s in a name? You know I love you.
Should I waste any more time Googling lighthouse-themed blouses and jewellery? Or consider any jewellery at all, other than a string of beads given to me Christmas c.1995? Crucially, is there time, finally… to learn how to blow-dry my hair?
But ah, I may have the perfect solution to my social ineptitude, lack of conceptual focus, memory and style: LIGHTHOUSE CUPCAKES.
The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter launches 5th April, 2018 – despite the above – and is available here:
Looking at my smug mug on Urbane Publications’ shiny new website, I’m sparing a thought for unpublished writers out there who’d like to stick pins in me. A pitchfork, even. I’ve been lucky, I know. I’m sorry. But it might help you to know that my path to publication has been long, muddy and potholed.
The first blow was almost my last: my story was rejected by a pony magazine. Okay, I was ten, but the page of reasons for my rejection — no doubt intended to be helpful – made me turn to the recorder and then piano, flute…
I didn’t write again for about thirty years – by then on my second career, as a post-doc research optometrist at Moorfields Eye Hospital. I still secretly wanted to write a novel, so I took an Open College of the Arts course and started keeping a diary, but couldn’t come up with an idea.
Years later, I finally got an inspiration, and after two months of mulling, made a start (in the middle of an international conference). Unbelievably, the novel wrote itself in six months. I was an author after all! Euphoria!
Hm. Until I sent Men Dancing off to a literary consultant and was told yes, well done, but now start again with a different novel. Apparently, my female protagonist was too old (at 42, ffs) and unlikeable. An RNA report agreed. After a few sulky days I started re-writing, making her thirty-bloody-nine and a bit nicer.
Then it was time to hit The Writers’ Yearbook, submitting to the three agents that seemed best suited to my novel. A further ten. The whole effing book. Subs were nearly all postal in those days; my desk became a one-woman sorting office – and soon had a heaped tray of ‘not quite right for us’ letters. Then two agents asked for the full MS and considered it for four months (one sending agonising updates about ‘just having a second/third read’ etc.), but both decided to clear their desks for the holidays and sent painfully synchronised rejection letters a couple of days before Christmas.
It was time to hit the Yearbook pages of lovely little publishers accepting non-agented subs. But they too are swamped with hopefuls, and turned me down. Except a self-pub outfit that also had a ‘conventional’ publishing arm – that they were offering me. I grabbed it with both hands.
The company was friendly, the editing light but good. I wasn’t going to be a bestseller – or even a seller at all, other than on Amazon and in the local Waterstones – but at least I was being published. Well, sort of. I had to pay them a fee for having my novel at the London Book Fair. Then for including it in their brochure… Soon, all my royalties were used to pay for this and that – particularly when second novel Flamenco Baby came out. Then the royalties became delayed. No, they stopped. I was so busy researching for a new novel and doing promo for Flamenco Baby in Spain, that I only once queried it. Then they went very quiet… and bust. I never saw any sales figures or royalties for Flamenco Baby. Another self-publishing company valiantly scooped up most of the floundering authors – and then went bust themselves.
But hey, I’d finished another novel, so what did I care? I went bounding off to the Winchester Writers’ Festival with The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter and had a glowing response from a commissioning editor who wanted to see it once I was agented, plus two requests for a full MS from agents! Wow! Ah but listen, people: beware the One-to-One bubble (see my post One-to-Ones, I’ve had a few…). One turned it down in 3 days, and the other… well, more than two years on, I’m still waiting to hear.
So, it was back to those lovely indie publishers. One — over the course of a whole year – was interested, turned it down, invited re-sub after changes, then turned it down again. I splashed out on a literary consultancy report, revised, splashed out on another (Cornerstones & The Literary Consultancy – both recommended). It was a lot better, but still not quite fitting into a genre. Two years had now passed since I’d finished it, and — worst of all – I wasn’t coming up with any ideas for a new novel. I started to seriously question why I was pouring so much time, heart and money into it all this.
Then a Twitter friend told me to submit to his publisher, Urbane Publications. Thinking they only published Crime, I’d not bothered them with my not-quite-women’s fiction – but I’d been wrong about that. I ordered some of their books and found wonderfully unusual, genre-bending stories; heard about the inclusive way they work with authors… this was where I wanted to be! I re-drafted and submitted. The wait was the most agonising I’d had during the nine years since I started writing. But it was a YES. Oh, the screams.
I’m realistic, there are a lot of books out there and bigger publishers to compete with, but now I’m part of the Urbane family I can get on with what I want to do: read, write (new novel finally on the go), get books out there and support others whose work I admire.
My advice: Keep tramping that path, and one day you’ll find the right place to have your smug mug.
THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER’S DAUGHTER (Urbane Publications) will be published on 5th April, 2018.
New living area, new publishing deal: time to find a new accountant. How do I do that? Maybe the way I picked the solicitors: Googling those in walking distance and selecting on architectural / pink-painted appeal.
But the names of the accountancy firms springing up on the map suggest further filtering is needed. I’m looking at companies called TaxAssist (too on the nose), Advanta (did two letters fall off their signboard?), Breeze (it won’t be, for an arithmophobic author), and Savoir Faire (oh bog off). Decided to be a normal person for a moment and call them about fees. I got a lot of piece-of-string answers, including one from an accountant who charges by the hour but had a very unfortunate stutter.
Eventually I spoke to a gem at a company with a flat fee, Victorian stucco, and generous free advice on the phone.
Talking to an accountant about the publication of my novel in April 2018, my pre-publication presumptuousness reached a whole new level. But here’s my tax tip for the signed author waiting to be published: did you know that expenses for your pre-published writing can be set against non-writing earnings for the same year? Maybe I’m the last to know. But yup, the cost of notebooks, a book about childhood in the 1950s, a ticket for a paddle steamer etc. etc. will be reducing tax for my science research and piano teaching work. Crazy but cracking news. Talk to an accountant!
One-to-ones, I’ve had a few, but then again… who can resist the chances to “pitch your work to industry gate keepers!” in a writing festival package? Although you might wish you had resisted, after a weekend of looking at your watch through interesting talks so that you leave them in time (factoring in a nervous pee) for your appointments, and letting other potentially instructive sessions flow past you while you sit there in post-one-to-one bewilderment.
Perhaps I just made bad choices, but I never got much out of literary speed-dating. I have no issue with agents that just didn’t like what I was doing – even the one whose way of imparting this was to spend 10 minutes arguing that a principal ballet dancer wouldn’t travel standard class in a train. I also forgive the two agents (in the same afternoon) that used half of my allocated time to go for a pee. But the one that was so full of praise and excitement that I looked over my shoulder to see if they were speaking to someone else, asked for the full manuscript, and then never replied to any emails…
It’s a tricky pairing: the agent is keen for good festival feedback, doesn’t want any awkwardness, and would like to give constructive feedback – if she can remember enough about your sub (and control her bladder). But the author with a finished novel may not be too receptive to drastic suggestions made after a possibly cursory look at a small sample, and, let’s face it, really just wants to be asked for a full MS.
It’s probably better to have these meetings at an early, more pliable stage of your novel. Or hone your manuscript with a writing group and a good literary consultancy, then do carefully crafted online subs to the RIGHT agents and publishers.
Exactly two years on (and still not having heard from the ecstatic agent), I’m pinch-myself happy to be a signed author with the wonderful Urbane Publications. I can now be one of those smug so-and-so’s who can go to a writing festival without any need to miss anything – my eight years of running the one-to-one gauntlet are over!