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My thoughts on the difference between magical realism & fantasy.
A short interview I gave to Judith Barrow on her excellent blog.
Today With Carol Lovekin
06 Wednesday Jul 2016
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Author Archives: Carol Lovekin
Blowing my own
03 Sunday Jul 2016
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Island Life, Word Birds & Process #11
In the absence of any other ideas for a blog post, I may as well. (The editing is the editing is the editing – a process and so forth and going okay, thank you kindly.)
Ask anyone who knows me – blowing my own trumpet isn’t what I do best. It has nothing to do with false modesty – I simply prefer a low profile. Fatal for a writer, or so many of my writer friends insist.
So, here we go.
I know – it’s a tuba – I like the swimming motif and in any case, if I’m going to do this, I may as well make a proper noise.
There are some truly lovely reviews around for Ghostbird. Not only on Amazon – I keep finding them in other places. (I don’t do Goodreads but people tell me so I know they’re there.) Each and everyone of them delights and amazes me. Not least because this whole review thing is, in addition to being gratifying, necessary. (Particularly on Amazon, who it seems has a power Judge Dredd can only aspire to…)
The latest one was written by a close friend – a beloved. He is no sycophant and had he not enjoyed my book, he would have politely moved on. He’s also smart and witty and young – so I often don’t have a clue – for instance – what his FB status means. (Probably for the best, frankly.) I do know his understanding of my world – the world of magical possibility and uncompromising feminism – never fails to please and impress me.
I shan’t post the entire review – you can read all of them here if you choose. (See? I can do self-promotion!) This is the bit I like best:
Carol Lovekin’s superb prose evokes a peculiar melancholy and at times I found myself re-reading a line several times in order to savour a particularly choice cut of language.
When I read a really good book I often do this, but the idea that someone would go back and reread a line I’ve written genuinely astounds me. And I am oddly content and charmed by ‘melancholy…’
Second drafting
26 Sunday Jun 2016
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Island Life, Word Birds & Process #10
Writing a book – if you can pull it off – is a pretty cool trick. It happens however in layers and conjuring a second draft is part of the enchantment. It’s when the writer searches for the missing part of the spell that makes the whole thing work.
I’m here to tell you, in my case, there is no trickery. Too many of the words aren’t even there.
My tendency to edit as I go is a trait in myself I’ve settled for. Over the years I’ve tried to resist but it’s no good and that’s how it is. It does mean I’m inclined to take out rather a lot on the way. In the process I leave holes, and sometimes miss opportunities or connections.
Having killed a fair number of my darlings – before they even had time to plead extenuating circumstances – I’m now filling the spaces in between. Summoning the missing words in the hope my reader will assume they were there from the beginning.
I’m taking my time with this second draft and enjoying the experience. Be that as it may, the question remains – the one that vexes all writers at this stage: how do we edit our work and know what’s good and what’s rubbish?
We do our best is the answer. Plug away, learn from our previous efforts and thank our lucky stars if we are fortunate enough to have a great editor. Someone we can hand the whole thing over to when it’s done.
The smallest writing group in Wales
19 Sunday Jun 2016
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Island Life, Word Birds & Process #9
Those of you familiar with my Facebook status will have spotted the hashtag #WG2. It translates as Writing Group 2 and is, to my knowledge, the smallest one in Wales. For years I’d searched for a local writing group that wasn’t poetry-based (no disrespect to poets but I’m not one) and eventually gave up.
A couple of years ago I met Janey at the swimming pool and we realised we were both writers. We began meeting for lunch after our Wednesday session. Both of us were at that tentative ‘what if’ place – unsure if we had any talent, certain only of our passion for writing and the stories we were working on. Initially we talked in general terms about our work. I was still looking for a publisher for Ghostbird and Janey was deep in the scattered draft of her first book. Within a very short space of time we realised we were sharing the detail of our stories and doing so from a place of absolute trust.
And we liked what we heard. We liked one another. From here #WG2 has become the hub around which our writing revolves.
Even though we write in different genres, both of us have our roots in Wales: a sense of the place we inhabit informs our storytelling. Over time this has shaped our writing relationship. We have developed a real bond and even though I was fortunate enough to see Ghostbird published, absolutely nothing has changed. We remain a tight, supportive duo. Janey’s authentic regard for my small success is truly affecting.
Nine months ago I began writing my second book. Janey has worked like a woman possessed and her book – written on a far broader canvas and with a cast of thousands! – is nearing completion. It has taken on a life of its own. She is more assured and determined, enthused and quietly excited. And so am I. I love her story; I sense something unexpected and unusual in it.
From the beginning we decided against critiquing. Neither of us has read a word the other has written yet we know everything. We are familiar with one another’s characters, the various relationships, the plot twists. We know the beginnings, the middles and the endings. Every week we talk and share and brainstorm for hours on end, offering insight and ideas. Above all, we listen. Writing my new story, I’ve lost count of the times I’ve presented my friend with a tangle and she’s come up with the answer. I know I’ve done the same for her.
I am indebted to this woman. Being part of our dynamic partnership has in no small way changed how I write and how much I write. It’s made me more disciplined; given me a level of confidence I genuinely needed. Writing a second book is a challenge. I’m still unsure about it but so long as I have Janey cheering me along, I won’t be tempted to give up.
ps: Janey is also responsible for the lovely black & white photographs of me, including the header.
Begin at the beginning … again…
12 Sunday Jun 2016
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Island Life, Word Birds & Process #8
In summer, mist is a vaguer, less assertive thing than its winter sister. Having little resistance to the sun it burns off quickly. And in the sun’s absence, this lethargic heat will do it. Summer mist is short-lived but no less lovely.
You do have to get up early to catch it.
This morning I was. With only one remaining chapter left to write, I joined the birds and they, bless them, flung the final words my way.
The first draft of my SisterBook is done!
I’ve already begun a new pass. Because I edit as I go, the earlier parts of the story in particular are in reasonable shape. I do expect to be challenged once I near the final third.
What larks though! Another story down, another milestone reached: the ‘difficult second novel’ written.
Go me.
Dealing in truth
05 Sunday Jun 2016
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Island Life, Word Birds & Process #7
It’s always about the process. I fear I may be in danger of overusing the word but the fact remains, it is. Any writer will tell you this. We put one foot in front of the other and follow the breadcrumbs.
Since my last post I’ve recovered my sense of proportion and more importantly, worked out whose story it is I’m writing. (Thank you, Terri-Lynne DeFino for pointing out that the person whose voice begins the story is usually the one who owns it.)
My ‘Sister’ book is another ghost story, albeit a much darker one than Ghostbird. (This ghost is angrier. She has an agenda and she deals in truth.) As do I, and once again find I’m writing about the nature of loss and redemption. These themes intrigue me, not least because they continue to shape me as a person. The various ways that women in particular deal with loss – and recover from it and find their voices – have long informed my writing.
In my prose passages I continue to weave spells. (My editor will almost certainly home in on an excess of ‘lovely’ and point me in the direction of my ‘Dead Darlings’ file. It’s why I need her.) My word spells may run away with themselves and occasionally need culling; they are still my preferred vehicle to tell my stories.
But regardless of whether or not she believes in magic per se, what I write has to feel accessible to my reader. I do my best. The magic I conjure is the kind that exists in the hesitation of twilight or a quiet dawn made soft by a lingering mist.
It hints at possibility.
Phone a friend?
29 Sunday May 2016
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Island Life, Word Birds & Process #6
After a couple of days of thunderbolts and lightning (not even remotely frightening – I love thunderstorms) today dawned mist-draped and gentle. It was silly o’clock and the enclosed, slightly secretive morning felt perfect. I was ready to write. It’s been this way for a week or two now and the result is I’m approaching the home straight, if not at a gallop then certainly at a gentle canter. (Were it not for the ‘Edit As You Go’ gene, this first draft would probably be finished.)
The problem is I’m unsure whose story I’m writing. I have two definite and four possible candidates, and it’s a potential minefield. Having recently published a book with a clear central character, I’m now faced with two distinct voices, each with a stake in the story, and another couple clamouring for attention.
I may be over-thinking it – every star needs a supporting cast and sometimes a double act works fine. The writer just has to insist that the understudies know their place. This would normally not be a problem. Unfortunately I fear it’s my own fault and serves me right for creating the monster that is a Narcissistic Mother. She really is a ruddy nightmare.
As for the ghost…
Phone a friend is what contestants on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? used to do, when they didn’t have a clue.
I think I need to call my editor.
A sense of an ending
15 Sunday May 2016
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Island Life, Word Birds & Process #5
By nature I’m a lark. I go to bed early, get up early & I’m rarely out after dark without a note from my mother. I’m known for my early starts. After tea & a read – maybe some hand-written notes – I attend to the chores, write my daily Letter to America, see to anything urgent in my inbox, take a peek at Facebook & begin work around ten o’clock.
Over the past week, instead, I’ve been at my desk around seven o’clock. Still in my PJs & with only the tea drunk, the book read & the cat fed, I’ve ignored everything else and written my heart out. I have no idea why, only that I’ve been waking up excited & single-minded & the result is a huge number of words.
It’s a double-edged sword mind. I’ve reached the tricky third quarter of the tricky second book. I’m aware of sag & clutter, of wandering off on extraneous tangents. It’s highly likely the thing is rubbish & I’m deluding myself it’s going to work. I know a lot of writers give up at this point, abandon the story & begin a new one. It smacks too much of the revolving door to me. And I know the ending, even though it isn’t in sight. I’m in too deep to give up and start again.
At least I can sense it, which is an improvement on a week ago.
In medias res: Island Life #4
08 Sunday May 2016
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I’m no Latin scholar – far from it; I studied at St Trinians. I remember this particular snippet because I spotted it in The Children’s Book the first time I read it. Dame Antonia’s* central character – a writer – says she always leaves her writing in medias res, which translates as ‘into the middle of things.’ In the context of the scene, the character has been interrupted but is happy to leave her work in mid-air. She likes it that way.
This has never appealed to me. In the same way I prefer to mark a book I’m reading at the end of a chapter or page break, when I finish writing for the day I try to leave my work at the end of a scene with the prospect of a ‘new’ beginning to get me going when I return.
Yet, until it’s done, I’m always in the middle of things. I drop in and out, tap-dance on the tightrope, follow the word birds and try to keep up with my characters.
In respect of my current story, the more literal meaning of in medias res has a certain if not actual resonance. The book has its fair share of backstory, three time-frames and a non-linear narrative. And I’m not a linear writer; I regularly find myself diving in, uncertain where I’m meant to be going.
Part of me questions why I’m using a lost, ironic language to make a fairly small point. Latin is simple to pronounce and often needs only common-sense to work out the meaning. At the same time it’s full of obscurities and contradictions. It’s also fun – not least when you don’t really know what you’re talking about but enjoy playing with motifs and devices.
A bit like writing.
*A S Byatt
This must be the book
07 Saturday May 2016
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From time to time you discover a book so affecting you know it will stay with you long after the last page is turned. This Must Be The Place by Maggie O’Farrell is such a book. It is a reinvention – a step beyond the author’s previous work and a blessing. It took several days for me to process – to even think about writing a review – and even now, I doubt my ability to conjure the words to do it justice.
“Meet Daniel Sullivan, a man with a complicated life.”
What follows, after we do meet Daniel, is more complex than complicated, but so perfectly arranged we are never in danger of losing our way.
Daniel’s world has been rocked by a failed marriage and a callous custody battle. Escaping to Ireland, he meets Claudette – a reclusive, world-famous film actress on the run from her own life and the trappings of unwanted fame. Together they create a new existence, make more children and settle into isolated family bliss. Daniel’s past, laden with a terrible secret, catches up with him. As their idyllic life begins to disintegrate, we witness the past and the unravelling of the present through a myriad other stories. Although the telling is dominated by Daniel’s voice it is exquisitely embellished by those of the other people irrevocably attached to him.
It is impossible not to be affected by the experience of being inside this glorious love-story. The reader is drawn, a willing fly into the web of O’Farrell’s effortless, dazzling prose.
It is some time since I have been so touched by a book. It must surely be impossible to read This Must Be The Place and not be mesmerised by the breadth and perfection of it. Once it is released, on 17 May, I want you to buy it and read it and then, if you haven’t already discovered Maggie O’Farrell, explore her back catalogue and fall headlong in love.
There are not enough stars.
I am indebted to Georgina Moore at Headline for a proof copy of the book.
Making it up as I go along 