Where do you set your stories?

Or to put this question another way – would you ever set a story somewhere you’ve never been?

I’ve met authors who do and they don’t seem to have a problem. They feel they can get enough of a feeling for a place through reading about it, or through film and television.

But for me that isn’t enough.

You see there’s more about a country than can be gleaned from the web – every place ‘feels’ different, smells different, and it’s these small things that bring a place to life, the telling details, the rats in the market place, the smell of spice on the old man’s fingers, squabbling gulls on the harbourside.

So you’ll find that most of my stories are set in places I’ve visited.

But not always.

Sometimes it’s simply not possible to visit the place you want to write about. And in these cases decent research is vital. I once read a story a friend of mine had set on the Moon. He made me believe he had flown through space and walked on that lunar surface, even though I know he hasn’t! But it was those telling details that convinced me.

So have you ever set a story somewhere you’ve never been?

The Booker Shortlist 2012

This year I have, for the second year running, been invited to join the panel at the YCAA annual Booker debate.

It’s an interesting shortlist this year with small publishers Salt and Myrmidon making the cut. It’s always good to see this sort of recognition for the smaller presses.

It’s also interesting reading the comments in the media. I have to admit I’m a bit concerned by remarks along the lines of ‘The judges have turned their backs on readability’ opting instead for ‘the shock of language’ and books that are ‘Conceptually challenging’.

Last year I was allocated ‘The Sense of an Ending’ by Julian Barnes, which went on to win. Yes, it was readable, beautifully written and I thoroughly enjoyed it. So why is readability such a dirty word? A book can be literary AND readable!

So now I’m wondering what I’m going to be allocated to read this year.

Here’s the shortlist – just in case you haven’t seen it:

The Garden of Evening Mists – Tan Twan Eng (Myrmidon Books)
Bringing Up The Bodies – Hilary Mantel (Fourth Estate)
The Lighthouse – Alison Moore (Salt)
Umbrella – Will Self (Bloomsbury)
Narcopolis – Jeet Thayil (Faber)
Swimming Home – Dehorah Levy (Faber)

An End... and a Beginning

Yesterday the Olympics came to a close. The children took part in a huge parade through the town, dressed up as sea creatures in a vast array of colour. And when we got home we watched the closing ceremony spectacular on television.

I’m sad to see it go. The Olympics have been wonderful. They made this summer special. But summer too is coming to an end.

The seasons turn.

Yet there’s no time to be sad. Good things are happening. New adventures beckon. And for me it’s time to pack away the beach gear and get back to the serious business of writing. The WIP is entering the final act – the race to the curtain – and I hope that I’ll get the first draft down by the end of the month.

And there’s more…. Only I’m going to make you wait….

Reading in the Greenhouse: A Few Reviews.

I’ve been reading a few books by fellow Greenhouse authors – In fact both myself and Ruth Steven have set ourselves the challenge of trying to read ALL the books by our fellow Greenhouse authors, but so far I’ve only managed three.

A Dog called Homeless by Sarah Lean

 

My name is Cally Louise Fisher and I haven't spoken for thirty-one days. Talking doesn’t always make things happen, however much you want them to.

Cally Fisher saw her mum bright and real and alive. But no one believes her, so Cally’s stopped talking.

 

A mysterious wolfhound always seems to be there when her mum appears and now he’s started following her everywhere. But how can Cally convince anyone that Mum is still with them, or persuade Dad that the huge silver-grey dog is their last link with her?

This is a wonderful book aimed at children in the 8-12 age group. I found it deeply moving and yet uplifting at the same time. It is beautifully and sensitively written. I dare you not to cry. A strong recommend.

Fracture by Megan Miranda

 

 

By the time seventeen-year-old Delaney Maxwell is pulled out of the icy waters of a frozen lake, her heart has stopped beating. She is in a coma and officially dead. But Delaney pulls through. How? Doctors are mystified. Outwardly she has completely recovered. But Delaney knows something is very wrong. Pulled by sensations she can't control, she finds herself drawn to the dying. Is her brain predicting death or causing it? Then Delaney meets Troy Varga, who lost his whole family in a car accident and emerged from a coma with the same powers as Delaney. At last she's found a kindred spirit who'll understand what she's going through. But Delaney soon discovers that Troy's motives aren't quite what she thought. Is their gift a miracle, a freak of nature - or something much more frightening?

 

Oooh – if that hasn’t sent chills up your spine nothing will! This is a thriller that keeps you guessing, right until the end. Great stuff, and the bleak winter backdrop makes for an atmospheric setting.

 

The Weight of Water by Sarah Crossan

 

Armed with a suitcase and an old laundry bag filled with clothes, Kasienka and her mother head for England. Life is lonely for Kasienka. At home her mother's heart is breaking and at school friends are scarce. But when someone special swims into her life, Kasienka learns that there might be more than one way for her to stay afloat.

This book is absolutely stunning. I’ve never read anything like it. I wasn’t sure at first how a book written entirely in poetry would work – but this really does. It’s a delightful and touching story.

Forest Folk

They were there, amongst the trees, watching me. Shadowy people, almost not there, standing on the marshy ground between the birch and ash. Forest Folk.

Bunting and Sailing Boats

The games are in full swing and the country is caught up in Olympic fever. Down here on the coast the atmosphere is electric.

 

The boats in the harbour are decked out with bunting and out in the bay the racers skim over the swell, their sails sporting their nation’s colours.

 

There are bands playing on the harbourside, and on the beach two large screens make sure we don’t miss out on any of the action.

I’m impressed with how well organised everything is, and how much there is to see and do.

Even the weather is hinting at summer! (Just hinting mind – this is Britain, after all)

The Lost Village

“That’s the Medieval Village of West Ringstead,” said the man as I passed. He was standing in the long grass beside the footpath staring out across a field, wild white hair and sun bronzed skin. “It was destroyed by the plague in the 14^th Century.”

My husband gave him and odd look and hurried on past, but I paused and looked in the direction that he was pointing. The field was a wide grassy meadow and over on the far side I could see a series of humps and bumps. I’d never noticed them before.

“If you stand on them you can see the layout of the village, the streets, the houses,” the man continued. “But there’s a fence here now.” He prodded the barbed wire with the tip of one finger.

There was something forlorn about those grassy mounds, and I couldn’t help wondering about the people who lived there, and how they must have felt as the plague took hold.

When I got home I tried to find out a bit more about this village. I found it is mentioned in the Doomsday Book. I also found another explanation for what happened to it – a rumor that the village was destroyed by French pirates, who kidnapped all the women and children and took them away. J

Which explanation do you prefer?