Unwritten Pages

This week Another Way to Fall goes on general release and I’m really hoping that readers fall in love with my heroine Emma as much as I have.  She is a young woman who has barely tasted life but is forced to face her own mortality when the brain tumour she thought she had beaten returns.

I have to admit that I felt distinctly uncomfortable creating a character who had cancer but it was a story I had to write because the basic premise had been drawn from my own experience.  When my son Nathan died, it wasn’t only that sweet little boy who had been stolen from me but his entire future, and for a while, mine too.  I desperately wanted to know what he might have gone on to achieve if only he had been given the opportunity but at three years old, I had only the merest hint of the man he was meant to be.Nathan xxx

Nathan was a little charmer, I knew that much at least.  He was chatty and mischievous but he could also be quite shy.  He hid behind his Thomas the Tank Engine sunglasses during our lengthy stays in hospital and occasionally when a new visitor came to see us he would simply say, ‘me too busy.’  He wasn’t perfect, he cheated at cards and he had an eye for the ladies.  He fell in love twice, once with my nephew’s girlfriend Paula and later with his nurse, Pat.  But these were only tantalizing glimpses of the life he might have led and I was left to imagine how those empty pages in his life’s story might have been filled.

In Another Way to Fall, Emma gets to fill the empty pages of her life by writing the story herself.  She finds answers to all of those ‘what ifs,’ and for me that was very satisfying despite the book being an extremely difficult one to write.  It took many, many drafts because I put a lot of pressure on myself to do justice to the story, not for the sake of my fictional character but out of respect for those people who are forced to face the realities of cancer and in particular those with high grade brain tumours.  I might have the misfortune of being able to write a story like this from a mother’s perspective but I couldn’t claim to know what was going on inside Emma’s head, either from a medical or an emotional point of view.  That was when I turned to BT Buddies (http://www.btbuddies.org.uk) and I am indebted to the time and effort Natalya Jagger took in helping me with my research.  It was important to me and I think to Natalya too, that my book was based on reality.  There are no miracle cures in the real world and there couldn’t be for Emma.  Her fate was sealed in many respects from the very beginning. I don’t claim to have all the finer detail correct and there has been some poetic license in terms of Emma’s seizures but I can only hope Another Way to Fall has captured at least a fraction of the real life battles faced by brain tumour sufferers.  If you get a chance, please visit the BT Buddies website and give your support.

Not so much a ruin…

My second novel Another Way to Fall is based in my home city of Liverpool and it was lovely being able to draw in parts of the city that are so familiar to me and others that were less so.  One of my favourite scenes in the book is set in St Luke’s which is more commonly known as the Bombed Out Church.  I’ve probably driven past it a thousand times on my way to and from work but until I started planning my novel, I had never been inside.  I’m so glad I decided to use the church in my book because it made me take a closer look at one of the city’s most iconic landmarks.St Luke's Church

St Luke’s can be found at the top of Bold Street in the city centre and was a parish church until 1941 when it was bombed during the blitz.  An incendiary device was dropped at one end of the church and the ensuing fire swept through the entire building, completely destroying the roof and interior as well as bringing some of St Luke’s famous bells crashing to the ground.  Amazingly the stone façade survived unscathed.  The sandstone tower and ornate pinnacles still look perfect today and at first glance you probably wouldn’t notice that the roof and the windows are missing.  It’s no longer a church but thankfully the building is still being put to good use.  Urban Strawberry Lunch are artists in residence who organise events at the site and have made sure the church and its history remain a part of the city.

Bombed-Out Church InteriorIn my novel, St Luke’s is where Emma wants to get married and although the ruined church isn’t licensed for wedding ceremonies, this is her dream wedding so anything is possible.  I certainly couldn’t think of a more appropriate and poignant setting.  To all intents and purposes, the church is a desolate ruin, inside you can still see the charred remains of timbers that once supported the roof and tiny fragments of the stained glass windows.  And yet you can’t help looking at the building and seeing its beauty and magnificence.  Little wonder that my heroine was drawn to it.

You can find out more about the site on the St Luke’s website and if you’re ever in Liverpool, I dare you not to think of Emma when you visit the church.

Where Ocean Meets the Sky

This is the last of the poems and paintings that I said I’d share and I have to say that if I had to pick just one pair that summed up how I felt when my son died then it would be this poem and this painting.  The poem was written when I was still raw from my grief but the painting is my brother’s interpretation of my words and when I look at it, I’m back there in that moment.  He has a true gift.

I’ll soon be refocusing my blogs on my writing journey but I’d like to thank you for indulging me in this time of reflection, it’s been much needed.

Thank you.

Where Ocean Meets the Sky

At the point of separationOcean Meets the Sky
Where ocean meets the sky
I plunged beneath the icy waves
While you prepared to fly

With flailing limbs I fought
To keep you in my sight
A thousand times I screamed your name
To stop you taking flight

My thrashing sent me deeper
Into the murky depths of grief
While you soared up to the heavens
Unaware of the struggles beneath

When silence filled the emptiness
And my rage was spent at last
I drifted to the surface
To search the skies so vast

Unburdened by mortal sufferings
Gleaming wings to lift you high
Eternal peace had found you
Where ocean meets the sky

A Race for Life and a Golden Thread

It’s a hot sunny day in Liverpool and I’ve well and truly earned my right to spend the afternoon relaxing in the garden after finishing the Race for Life in Sefton Park this morning with my daughter Jess and some wonderful friends.  It’s hard to believe it’s the ninth year for me and Jess.  Nine medals marking a long and painful journey that has stretched far beyond the 5 kilometre course.  In fact our experience of this event which is in aid of Cancer Research UK began the year before that very first race.

I’d taken the kids to Hague Hall in Wigan for a picnic and was totally bemused by the hoard of women dressed up in pink with race numbers on their fronts and messages on their backs.  The messages were in tribute to the loved ones they had lost, the ones that had beaten cancer and in some cases celebrating their own battles.  I watched on with an eight year old Jessica and my eighteen month old son Nathan, thinking of my dad who I’d lost to cancer some years before and never dreaming that the little boy sitting next to me already had leukaemia.

The next year, Jess and I would be taking part in a Race for Life event at Aintree Racecourse while Nathan watched on.  We were doing it for him, raising money in aid of cancer research which might make his future less bleak, there was so little else we could do.  The next year, we did it again only Nathan was becoming very ill by this point.  The year after that and Nathan was gone but we still had to do it, for him.  Always for him.  And that first year without Nathan, Jess and I were privileged to start the race which had been dedicated to his memory.

So today as I sit in my garden I’ll be thinking of my beautiful boy and missing him with every bone in my body.  Apologies if I’m being overly sentimental today but I promised you I’d add a couple more of my poems, so hears the next along with another painting by my super talented brother Chris Valentine.

A Golden Thread

Painting by Chris Valentine

Painting by Chris Valentine

A golden thread
links child to mother
Weaves the future from the past
Connecting one to the other

This eternal thread
Has not one strand but two
Stitching body to soul
Life with an immortal hue

This fragile thread
Can break but the cost
When mother loses child
It’s the future she’s lost

But this broken thread
Has one strand intact
Though a heart filled with grief
Is unaware of this fact

This golden thread
Leaves a connection open
Through memory and love
Comforts a heart that is broken

My Autumn Child

I suspect I’m not the first author to think long and hard about what to share on a site like this.  The answer on the face of it should be a relatively easy one.  It is after all an author blog set up to share information about my writing and my books and a host of other ‘author-ish’ insights.  The question is really about what not to share and where to draw that line between the public persona and the private person.

My problem however is that one of the most personal aspects of my life is also the reason why I write, not to mention why I write the things I write.  There is no clear separation.  I began to write because my little boy was diagnosed with cancer and writing was the only way I could express how I felt; I continued to write because when he died at 3 years of age, a huge void entered my life and words were one way of filling the abyss; and I write now because my son continues to influence my life.  I write because I am so very proud of everything he did in his short life and how much he continues to influence those who were privileged to know him.

So I make no apologies as I begin the countdown towards the publication of my second book in September.  Once again I feel compelled to tell the world that it’s all because of Nathan.  I have no choice.  I’m the only voice he has now.

By the same token, I should also add that I am immensely proud of my daughter too but here I will draw the line.  Jessica does have a voice and is more than capable of using it.  I must therefore respect her privacy, or at least as much as any other gushingly proud and interfering mother can.

With all of that said, here is what I wanted to share with you today.  It will come as no surprise that I wasn’t the only one influenced by Nathan’s life.  Where I began to write, my brother Chris Valentine was inspired to develop his artistic talent.  Below is an example of how our creative paths crossed as we both dealt with Nathan’s illness and ultimately his loss.  I wrote the poem ‘My Autumn Child’ when Nathan was in the midst of his battle against leukaemia and the painting is my brother’s visualisation of my words and essentially my son’s life.  I think the painting is beautiful.  There are a couple of other poems and paintings I hope to share soon but this poem is particularly poignant as it was the inspiration for my second novel.  The working title of Another Way to Fall was Autumn Child.

My Autumn Child

My autumn child, take my hand
Give me the courage
To walk through this desolate land
Give me the courage to keep by your side
Not able to heal you and nowhere to hide

My autumn child, touch my face
Give me the strength
To smile in this godforsaken place
Give me the strength not to give in
To the anger that burns from deep within

My autumn child belongs in the spring
Should take life for granted, see everything
Shouldn’t face winter ‘til he’s an old man
That’s what I thought, that was the plan

My autumn child should learn from his mum
How to play safe and how to have fun
But my autumn child is the one teaching me
To face the storm and bend like the tree

My autumn child, as winter nears
Give me the hope to staunch these tears
Give me the faith to hold onto those dreams
Of you in my future, when so bleak it seems

My autumn child is orange and gold
The brightest colours so vivid and bold
Born to shine and never to fade
My autumn fruit, the child I made

By Chris Valentine

By Chris Valentine

So the agent likes it but what does the editor think??

If you’ve been following this blog then you’ll know how I’ve been busy writing my first short story.  Forty days ago I had an idea in my head and lots of blank pages.  Even a week or so ago when I thought I’d finished, I still didn’t know if what I’d written would get the approval of my agent and publisher.

Luigi has said he loves it so what did Kim think?  Well, here’s what she said….

‘I’ve read Less Than Perfect this morning and think it’s wonderful. As Luigi says, it’s so emotional! It really does capture those hidden dynamics between couples that go unspoken for a long time even though everyone is aware of the truth…’

Of course I’m not completely off the hook.  Kim has suggested a couple of ‘tiny tweaks’ which I hope will only strengthen the story but they really are minor adjustments, nothing compared the major redrafting and restructuring that can happen with a full length manuscript.

So now as I set to work on the next draft of Less than Perfect I can honestly say it’s been a thoroughly enjoyable journey and one I hope will be out there soon for readers to enjoy too.  I’m off to London next week to catch up with Kim so there might be some more news then, if not about the short story then most definitely about the publication of my second book Another Way to Fall which is due out in September.   Yes, there’s definitely going to be progress to report on that score so watch this space!

What happened next to my short story?  It was published 🙂

The Keeper of Secrets

DAY 33: It’s written and now it’s been read…by someone else

Up until this point, writing my first short story had been completely in my control.  Other than talking through the concept with my editor it’s been up to me how I structured the story, how the characters developed and how it ended.  It’s only now that I’ve shared it with my agent and editor, that it becomes more of a collaboration and in some ways this is the most nerve-wracking time as I wait for feedback and get the first response to the story that I hope to share with my readers one day soon.  The insecure part of me is always asking, is it good enough and more importantly, am I good enough to take onboard any comments, unravel the plot and remake the story if I have to?

The detailed edits will come from Kim Young my editor but right now I’m happy, happy, happy to have a response from my agent Luigi Bonomi who is one of the most respected literary agents in the UK and as people keep telling me, I’m lucky to have him.  He says, and I quote, ‘I’ve just finished Less than Perfect and thought it was gripping – I particularly loved the way you handled Charlie. It struck me as just the kind of story your fans would love.’

It’ll come as no surprise that I have a big cheesy grin as I write this and I can only hope it holds out until I get word back from Kim.

What happened next

DAY 29: Step away from the computer

I’m finally at the point where I can write those magical words, ‘THE END,’ and mean it, for now at least.  I have to be honest, after writing the story and then going through it twice again, all in the space of a month has turned my brain to mush!  As I’m reading it through, I can’t be sure if I’m recognising text because it’s repeated or simply because I’ve read it for the nth time.

That’s not to say that the last run through hasn’t been useful.  One amendment that did make me smile was a character name I’d used.  Elle’s parents are called Ann and Harry but for some reason I’d been calling Elle’s mum Pat in sections of the first draft, so in the second draft I corrected the references and thought no more about it.  It was only in the third draft that I realised I’d also given her parents the surname Summers…yes, Elle’s mum is none other than the famous purveyor of lingerie and ‘toys.’   So it was goodbye Ann Summers and hello Anne O’Brien!

So at the end of it all I’ve produced a short story with a word count of just over 22k and rather than the eight sections I’d started with, I now have 12 chapters.  My last job was a quick spell check which is good for picking up the obvious spelling errors and grammatical gaffs but some of the suggested corrections from Microsoft leave me scratching my head.  No, Mr Gates, I don’t want to change ‘worse for wear,’ for ‘worse for wears,’ and I’m getting a little fed up of seeing ‘fragment (consider revising)’ on nearly every piece of dialogue; and don’t get me started on how many semicolons you want to put into the manuscript!  I’m by no means an expert on grammar (I’m sure someone’s already picking out errors as they read this!!) but as long as I’ve picked out the obvious and it doesn’t distract the reader (i.e. my agent and my editor) then it’s good enough for now.  There are many, many blessings in having a publishing contract and one of them is the amazing support from a team of people including expert copywriters who will go through it with a fine tooth comb later on.

Speaking of my agent and my editor, that’s where the story is heading next.  Once I’ve emailed it to Luigi and Kim then I really will be stepping away from the computer because I won’t touch it again until their comments have come back.  OK, that’s not quite true.  I won’t touch the manuscript but there’s so much else to do on my computer.  I think I have a summer of writing Book 4 to look forward to so it’s goodbye Elle and hello Jo.

What happened next

DAY 24: Rushing to the finish line…again

Phew!  I’ve reread, revised, reordered and in some instances added to the first draft of my first short story which explains why my original 19,300 words has crept up to 21,750.  Increasing the word count in the second draft is quite unusual for me as I’ve normally cut back on the text at this stage.

My usual problem is that I have a habit of writing and explaining absolutely everything in the first drafts.  I like to explain what my characters are thinking about, worrying about, planning to do or not to do but even if I do cut the text at a later date, it’s never wasted effort.  Sometimes the added explanations provide me with a prompt or reminder about what’s going on in my character’s mind so I know how they should be reacting later.  It was my editor who told me not to explain so much – I need to leave some room for readers to draw their own conclusions!

So why my second draft has grown rather than shrunk in this instance, I don’t know.  Maybe it has something to do with it being a short story.  I was aware from the start that I needed to be more efficient in getting the story across in a shorter word count so I was already being economical with my explanations and what I have added in the second draft is a little more depth to some of the descriptive elements.  Hopefully I’m still on track but I’ll have to wait and see what my editor Kim thinks when I’m ready to send it to her.

My latest quandary is whether or not to have a rethink about the title.  The story’s working title has always been ‘Less Than Perfect,’ and as readers and writers all know, it’s often the title and the cover that entice a potential reader to take a closer look as opposed to moving onto the next book on the shelf.  In only a few words, my story has to convey the right message, suggest genre and offer a little intrigue.   But that’s not the only thing worrying me about the title.  Me being me, I can’t help imagining that if I keep with the current title then it’s only a matter of time before someone leaves a review saying, ‘ah, yes, a story that was definitely less than perfect.’

And so to ward off potential critics, the only thing I can do is to get back to the task at hand and start on the third draft and make it as good as it possibly can be.

What happened next

DAY 20: Going around in circles

I’m half way through the second draft now and it’s taking quite a bit of concentration to keep track of the sequencing of events.  I’m finding that because there’s been such a short time between starting the first draft and launching into the second that my mind is playing tricks on me and I keep losing track of where I am in the story.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to go back (or forwards) and find those snippets of the back story that I know are there but have forgotten exactly where.  And then of course I’ve had to make sure that if I’ve moved a scene to a different part of the story, I’ve kept track of any cross-references.   There’s no point having a character complain about whiplash when you haven’t even crashed their car yet!  That was just an example by the way, Elle’s a very careful driver 🙂

At least it’s only a short story and not too complex otherwise I don’t think I’d be able to sleep at all!

What happened next