Interview with Thelma Pugh

Read time: 14 mins

Since, during the pandemic, turning her focus to writing fiction Thelma, writing as B B Jones, has published five novels with stories about family events. Here she describes her writing life with tips for new writers and her thoughts on where her story ideas come from.

Click to start the video (run time around 25.5 mins).

Jill: Good morning. Thelma.

Thelma: Good morning. Jill.

Jill: I’ve got some questions for you about writing, and I hope you’ll be able to answer them about your new, exciting publication that’s about to come out. So I know you published several books. The first question I have for you is, did publishing your very first book change how you view writing?

Thelma: Absolutely 100% I’m what probably you call a numeric person. You know, my life has been surrounded by numbers, and so my writing has been confined to just writing reports and I did some teaching. So that was teaching notes, and obviously that sort of writing is quite concise, then suddenly I’m writing fiction. I’m having to do show not to tell. So you can imagine, that’s quite the switch around. And I had a sort of a mentor come editor, and she was always pinging me for, you know, show not tell. I think now I’m just publishing my fifth book. I’m just about getting the hang of it. You could tell me otherwise.

Jill: Not in the least, no. Of the books that you’ve written, then since you came out from the nonfiction writing for your career. Which of those was the easiest to write? Do you think?

Thelma: Well, even though I had to relearn or learn how to write fiction, it would have been, been probably the first one, mainly because that was pretty much biographical. It was based on my mother’s life although I fictionalized it and changed names, etc, to protect my siblings and everybody else. So that was easier to write, because obviously I was familiar with the story. I still did some research, because I did pop in things that weren’t related to the story – the real story. But I suppose, yeah, because I wasn’t quite starting from scratch with the story, I had the story sketched at least. So yeah, the first one.

Jill: Okay, thank you. And when you do your writing, do you start by being a plotter, so you have a very detailed outline, or are you much more of a pantser? How do you write?

Thelma: Well, yes, when you should ask that one, usually, I’m a plotter. I have a spreadsheet, and I have each character plotted out before. Before I start, you know, their profile, their age, even their hair colour. I even with the main characters, will go and source on the net a photograph of what I think this character looks like, and I will have that in front of me as well that I think sort of I’m a very visual person, and they can help me visualize that person speaking, action, etc, etc. This last book didn’t quite work out like that. I seem to have gone off, which I really enjoyed. I became a pantser, and the book itself unfolded as I wrote it. Characters seemed to pop out on the page, which I hadn’t thought of at all at the very beginning. And I hope the proof of my experiment works when it comes out, people will tell me.

Jill: That’s really interesting. So you’ve changed slightly with experience of writing further fiction pieces. Do you have any idea where your inspiration comes from?

Thelma: I suppose out of my head must be where they come from. I think. I’ll be 80 in January, so I’ve got a wealth of experience of life basically, I’ve been living, with the work I’ve done, I’ve mixed with people. I worked National Trust property and was their volunteer manager. So I’ve dealt with 400 people that came from all walks of life, some professional, some not, you know. So I’ve got a lot of stories up in my head from them as well. So I guess that’s where my inspiration comes from.

Jill: Excellent. I live near a couple of National Trust properties, and I’m always going back there.

Thelma: Yeah. I mean, there are amazing places to visit, aren’t they? That only stopped in the pandemic, which is where my writing started, because suddenly, you know, I hadn’t got 400 people to look after. I did on for a while via the internet. I used to send them daily quizzes or just be in touch with them because a lot of these people live on their own, and they may have families, that live away from them and things like that. So that’s a lot of reasons why the people volunteer. So you hear stories from them because you know you’re there that you’re there for them to talk to.

Jill: That’s excellent. So yeah, you get inspiration from them as well. So when you are writing, then what do you enjoy the most about that?

Thelma: Oh, just getting these stories out that are in my head, basically, but also it is my opportunity to research. I love research. I love it, for one of the books I must have spent up to two hours looking at videos and reading, I use YouTube a lot, things like how to black lead a range. I didn’t need to know this, really, but I did discover it you know. I’d got scullery maid and what she did everyday. Questions like ‘Did she come down every morning and strip it all out and black lead it every day, you know?’ So that means, okay, let’s go and find this out. But the trouble is, I get carried away. I have to admit, I will then go on to something else and then something else. And I think, given my life again, I’d love to be a researcher. I’d love it. I love watching TV programs on how things are made, whether it be food or apparatus or whatever. I just love the concept and the actions of how things are made. It’s just that’s always interested me. That’s what I love about writing. I get to do all this. Yeah, and you can write about it. Without it? No, not fun at all.

Jill: So that’s the fun of the writing for you. Now, getting your books out, which you do must have some bits that you like less. What would those bits be?

Thelma: Marketing, Marketing, Marketing, Marketing. I actually enjoy creating posters. I’ve just done little promo video, which I’ve never done before, teaching myself how to do that because I’m not frightened to get in there and try. If I don’t know, I’ve gone to YouTube. I must admit, YouTube is my Savior. At times, it’s just that sometimes it’s frustrating because it’s slow. And being an indie author, you know, I don’t have any agents or anything like that. I’m it basically, and nobody knows me. So you know, you’ve got to get out there. You’ve got to push yourself. And I, I’m not that good at patting myself on the back. You know, I see some of the printers on Instagram, people get out there and talk about their books. And, you know, I don’t, can’t quite ever see myself doing that, but I may do. So I rather hide behind my name and put up little posts, and I put little funny things and whatever you know, because I think humour is really important. So marketing, yeah.

Jill: That’s something that can be, can be learned, but, but if you’re busy writing, and perhaps you know, getting the next book out is the drive instead.

Thelma: Oh, absolutely, yeah. I mean, this one that’s coming out now is actually about a month behind what I normally would do. I normally get books out. I have got two books out in one year. That was quite an amazing thing. That was my trilogies. But I normally take about nine months from start to finish, a little bit behind this time, so it’s only going out on the first December. So yeah, there is that deadline. It’s a deadline when you’re working at the end of when you’re getting published, because you’ve got an editor to sort of work with, then you’ve got the proofreader, then I’ve got a formatter and a book design, jacket designer. So when you start involving people, not that they crack the whip at me, but I crack my own whip. That becomes a little bit more pressure, if you like.

Jill: Sure, a book is a team effort, really, isn’t it?

Thelma: Absolutely, yeah. I mean really, the writer creates, but then there are people that create with you at the end, as you’ve just said, it is ends up a team. Yeah? Without them, you couldn’t do it.

Jill: So the writing bit, then the real sort of gem that starts it all off. What’s your preferred location? Do you have a place you like to write?

Thelma: I live in the woods, and if I can see some trees, that’s lovely. So I can work outside in the summer. I love and listen to the bird song, etc. Yeah, I do have a desk up in well, it’s not an office come spare room, but it faces a wall, so I rarely sit up there. I’m lucky today, because my partner’s work today, so I’ve grabbed his office, which really is my dining room.

Jill: Right.

Thelma: And I think he’s so lucky, I’m sitting here at his desk, his is looking out the trees. I think I should be here, if my inspiration is nature, you know, birds and whatever. So, yeah, that’s my preferred so I tend to work in my bedroom, which people tell me I shouldn’t, but I can see the trees from there, so I think, well, you know, this is that’s my space.

Jill: Yeah.

Thelma: So that’s where I write mainly, not on my desk and looking at a brick wall.

Jill: I think solitude is very important for it. So wherever you can get that.

Thelma: Yeah, absolutely, yeah. I mean, he works downstairs, I work upstairs. Anyway, no radio, no distraction. I know some people actually have the radio going and listen to music. That’s their way, Jill, I couldn’t do that. No, we’re all quiet. And the cat pops up occasionally. She’s actually beside me today, you know, and comes up and has a mosey and then goes back down again.

Jill: So when you’re in the flow and you’re writing, then how many hours can you carry on doing that? Or is it in short bursts?

Thelma: No, I tend, I’m an early riser. My brain sort of comes awake, and then that’s it. So I will often start then. I don’t really have a set pattern. I’m quite flexible really. I know some people have to write so many words per day, I don’t do that because some days I might be researching, as I’ve already told you, that can take up quite a while. So I’m bit ad hoc, really, I don’t set myself a target. I say it seems to work.

Jill: Well, that’s fine, whatever works.

Thelma: But then during the day, when I’m not writing, I’m often composing, maybe the opening line of the next chapter, or the hook at the end of a chapter, or a bit in the middle. Or I will think, ‘Oh, actually, yes, so and so could do that’. And I’ll go back and add that in next time. You know, so I guess I’m pretty much all day in my writing ot I’m thinking, yeah, yes, yeah.

Jill: Well, thinking is very important. Do you have some favourite software that you use to write with.

Thelma: I use Word, I think most people do, don’t they? But I also use Excel for my spreadsheets where I can put any web links. I’ll put photographs, as I said, and the profiles, I tend to use Excel with that. I used that a lot in this last one, because, because it was a pantser book, I love that word, and it’s on two timelines, it became quite jumbled, jumbly, jumbly, jumbly. So, because I’m numerical, I’m used to using Excel, so I had these fancy columns where I could move things around. So that was quite a work of art, actually, but I haven’t done that on others, but just for that one, for the chapter plan, because I do have a chapter plan. Sometimes it’s not written until after I’ve written the chapter, but it’s an easy reference if you want to go back, particularly if you’re using timelines and dates and that you’ve got to be careful, haven’t you that? Because you’ll always get a reader that will find a hole somewhere. So I do try to be as accurate as I can.

Jill: I think you may be going to say your cat now! Who’s your biggest supporter as a writer?

Thelma: Well, not my cat. She’s now asleep, so she doesn’t care what I’m doing. My partner is brilliant. My partner is used to me just out of the blue, saying something out loud and then just burbling on about something or other, makes no comments whatsoever, unless I ask for them, but I suppose my active biggest support is my daughter, she’s excellent. She is a busy career girl, but she always finds time for me to chew her ear over something. What do you think? And or if I’ve just finished a draft chapter and I’m thinking, not sure where this works, I will email it to her, and she will read through and come forward with something. Yes, oh, that’s really good. (She wouldn’t say that, if it wasn’t.) But what about so and so and so she triggers thoughts for me. Yeah, yeah. In fact, funny enough, the third book of the trilogy was loosely based on her.

Jill: Interesting.

Thelma: Yeah, loosely. Well, I’m not entirely, because there’s some things in there that particular character did that my daughter wouldn’t even dream of thinking of – she was, she was a bit of a naughty girl. So we rented one of the National Trust holiday coaches in Laycock in the village, lovely. It was brilliant and really oldy worldy. And she brought along some butcher paper, you know, the big butcher paper, yeah and markers. And very carefully, we tapped them all up on the big fireplace there, and we did the plan and plenty of bottles of wine, food. It was, it was a great weekend. So that was, yeah, that’s how we planned that. And funnily enough, I found that book quite difficult, because although it was just based on her, it wasn’t her trying to find the voice of this particular character wasn’t easy, but it came in, and actually, that’s proved to be one of my most popular books

Jill: Interesting.

Thelma: So there you go. You can’t pick it.

Jill: No, no, that’s right. Do you know what your strongest influences are in writing? Do you have nature as that, or is it other reading you’re doing?

Thelma: It’s nature definitely, but life experience. Most of my books are based on life experience, whether it be somebody else’s experience or my own. Places I’ve lived I’ve lived in a few places. I’ve lived in Australia, for instance. I’ve lived in Guernsey. I’ve lived in lots of places. So that’s influenced me and people I’ve met.

Jill: Oh, that’s excellent. That’s a rich scene to pull from, isn’t it?

Thelma: Absolutely. And, you know, a long one, you know, so it’s really nice. I mean, all in my books, there will be references that a friend will pick up. I mean, I’ve been in touch with two of my school friends I went right through school with. And there’s little references there, which they will pick up on friends as well, little references, I don’t use their names, I change their names, that they would pick up, my daughter, all sorts of things. This book’s got the protagonist eating cooked mushrooms, for instance. And we both hate mushrooms, so I describe them. This protagonist playing with these mushrooms and imagining their slime as she eats them. That would just amuse my daughter. And a ticking clock is another one. So this is, this is how I create. I’m having very visual.

Jill: Marvellous well, I particularly like your book cover with this one.

Thelma: Do you really?

Jill: Yes indeed, really well thought through inspiration.

Thelma: That’s a collaboration with a lady I worked with. Well, since my partner, wrote a book back in 2008 Yeah, and I just found her by chance, and I’ve used her ever since. And she’s really good. I source pictures, and she reads me she’s really good, because I will say, I’ll give her the short, short version of the blurb, but she really relies on what other things I say, and she’ll move things. She’s so patient. And could you just move that a smidge here? And she does it, and it’s I love it too. I love the moodiness of the colours. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m excited to see that one coming. I can’t wait to have it in my hand. Yes, I never read them. I never really read. Living with it for a long while. It’s not there. It’s I know I’ll find a mistake and I’ll go, no.

Jill: Okay, so you’ve talked about the inspiration that you find in nature. What about other authors and reading? Are there any books you particularly finding?

Thelma: Yeah, I read when I get the time. I’m mostly at the moment, I mostly listening to books, to be honest. So when I go to bed after with glasses to read, and I feel to sleep with them on across the range. I guess most of my books are contemporary. You know, I like the Marion Keys and JoJo Moyles and things. I’m not so keen on a load of romance. I’m not a romantic Mills and Boon stuff. In my past, I’ve read, I used to read Dennis Wheatley books, you know, those? I’ve read all of James Herrick books. Yeah, I love Yorkshire, and I’ve been to a lot of the places he’s got there. I’ve read the classics, of course, you know, it’s I don’t really have a favourite author, or maybe being cheap in Jill. So a lot of those are like family saga, which I tend to I think I write a lot more family saga than anything. Oh, that’s right, it’s not romance by any means. No, no, I was advised to have a bit of romance in the trilogies. But I can assure you, there’s none in this set this point.

You know, no, look, they’re very popular romance, romance books.

Jill: It’s a genre of its own, it has tropes and expectations that you don’t have in this one.

Thelma: Yeah, yeah, exactly, yeah.

Jill: So, if you were to be able to advise your younger self, you know, in your 20s, let’s say, what advice would you give to that person about writing?

Thelma: Well, read, read. You know, the more you read, you learn words, you learn situations you get, you get a style. I don’t know whether you learn a style or that is inbuilt. I really don’t know the answer to that. Okay, when I thought about this question, I couldn’t, couldn’t tell you, because I think I write a lot, how I talk and how I think. So, yeah, but reading definitely. I mean, in the sort of pre children days, I could find myself stirring the pop of a saucepan of something with one hand and reading with the other. I was that bad. And in the end, I was, I was being accused of being anti-social, so I had to curb a bit. There’s I was devouring anything and everything. I don’t have the time to do that, which is a bit sad, isn’t it?

Jill: Well, it’s all a balance, isn’t it? So you can’t be doing everything at the same time. So are there any sort of particularly important considerations or tricky bits you find about writing dialogue?

Thelma: I, I must admit, because of my age I suppose, but I haven’t been to school for such a long time, and I had to learn where I’ve got all the commas in the in the quotes and things like that. So yes, because again, that comes back to begin with, that show not tell where I would write, write something as an explanation. Often, dialog would have been, would be better to replace that? Would you get inner thoughts more so in dialogue? So I had to learn that and I think, you know, I’m getting there on that. I wouldn’t say 100% but I think I’m a lot better. I stop and think now.

Jill: Yeah.

Thelma: When I write, I might write a sentence and I think, actually, yeah, Mary, or whatever the criteria should be saying that, yeah, you know what I mean. So it’s a learning thing, really, isn’t it?

Jill: Oh yeah, it’s all about balance, isn’t it? So many threads in writing, yeah, that a lot of it comes down to the pace and the tension that you want within the story.

Thelma: So that’s all you don’t learn in school. You everything is by rote, isn’t it? And what wasn’t my school? Unfortunately, it was pretty radish, really, and so. But I know when I was in my teens, I used to scribble poetry.

Jill: Oh, yeah.

Thelma: So I never really wrote stories, but I used to scribble poetry. And unfortunately, the book I scribbled with that would be another advice to a younger self is, you know, get out there if you want to write something, get out there and write doesn’t know whether it’s good or not. You don’t have to show it to anybody. Sadly, I have no idea where this book is, and I only remember one piece of poetry because it was published in our school magazine, which I’ve still got a copy of, which is quite sad, really, because I think you know to sit there and scribble, hang on to it, because you never know down the track, build on that, you know. So I think that’s another bit of advice, you know, to write these things down as you’re inspired.

Jill: Yeah? Sure, you can always keep it and see you later. Excellent. And so, yeah, I mean, it’s exciting. You’re days away from publication. Now, are you going to celebrate, or do you just take it in your stride and keep writing?

Thelma: Well, I don’t celebrate, no what? Well, I am actually going out for lunch with my partners’ family, which may mention or may not see this, what I’m saying, I think, oh, they would be interested. That’s bit bottom of me say it wouldn’t be interested, but I may or may not, but I haven’t got a book to show them. They one of them my cousin, my partner’s cousin’s wife, she’s would have seen that I am about to publish because it’s on my Facebook page and Instagram, so she would have seen one or the other. So I don’t know. No I’m not going to me, yeah, I might have the obligatory photograph we hold in the book when I get it.

Jill: I should hope. Oh, what they seem to like to do now is the unpacking. So you take a video of yourself unpacking the box when it arrives.

Thelma: Not sure. I mean, I know I’ve seen that too. No, no, I know that’s not me.

Jill: I know that’s the questions we have. Is there anything else you’d like to add about your upcoming publication.

Thelma: No only that, I can’t believe this my fifth book. And you know, I’m quite proud of that. I think I loved the last one, The Sundered Path, but I think this one is different again, it’s writing about time travel, which I’m not 100% fan of, but my kids were, you know, they were Doctor Who fans, yeah, so I was obviously subjected a bit to that. It’s a bit fanciful. So being a numeric person. The Imagination is there, but it has to be believable, right?

I am really pleased it’s written, and I’m pleased to get it out.

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For How to Write a Great Character click here.

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The Importance Using of Conscious Language

Read time: 4 mins

Writing lasts, once it is published it cannot easily be altered, so writers (and the editors helping them) need to use words with precision, care and sensitivity. They need to know that their writing choices can shape perceptions, influence beliefs, and impact communities. Conscious language use is about writing with awareness, respect and intention. Writers need  clarity over conscious language and understanding of the practical impact of including it in our writing.

What Is Conscious Language?

Conscious language is thoughtful, deliberate communication that considers the impacts of our words may have on different communities and individuals. It’s about intelligently choosing words that respect human dignity, acknowledge diversity, and avoid perpetuating stereotypes or causing unintended harm.

Language is dynamic and evolves alongside our understanding of human experiences. What was acceptable decades ago might not reflect our current awareness of different perspectives and identities. This change isn’t about restricting expression and is about expanding our ability to communicate accurately and respectfully.

Why Conscious Language Matters

Writing anything, but particularly long form, a writer may be thinking that there is enough to getting a first draft complete. That idea is encapsulated in a quote from Alain de Botton: ‘To become a proper writer, you have to forgive yourself the catastrophe of the first draft.’

However, beyond that the self-editing and editing work of redrafting and creating subsequent drafts can be where more attention to conscious language will improve the writing in several ways.

Building Trust with Readers

When a reader find they are reading language that diminishes or misrepresents their experiences, they will feel something negative and are likely to disengage. By using conscious language, we create an inclusive space where diverse audiences feel seen and respected, or at least do not feel the opposite (unseen and disrespected). This trust is essential to keep the trust of readers and to build meaningful connections with them.

Accuracy and Precision

A conscious language focus when writing or editing is likely to lead to more precise writing. Instead of relying on outdated generalizations or assumptions, the writing becomes more specific about our meaning. This precision not only improves our writing but also helps readers better understand our message.

Social Responsibility

To some extent writers and editors are cultural custodians. The language we use today can influence how future generations will think and communicate about different groups and experiences. Our writing can show others what we think and how we think. By choosing conscious language, we contribute to positive social change and greater connection between people. Remember that you are writing for a modern readership.

Practical Conscious Language Use

Here are some practical ways to embed a conscious language approach to writing and editing:

People-First Language

Mention the person first. Consider the difference between ‘diabetic person’ and ‘person with diabetes’. People-first language acknowledges that individuals are more than their conditions or circumstances – not just numbers. However, be aware that some communities prefer identity-first language (e.g., many in the Deaf community prefer ‘Deaf person’ to ‘person who is deaf’).

Gender-Inclusive Language

Simply be aware that where a gendered term is being used and replace those suitable neutral alternatives: e.g.

  •   mankind → humanity or humankind
  •   businesswoman → business executive
  •   chairman → chair or chairperson

Use ‘they’ as a singular pronoun when gender is unknown or irrelevant. Avoid assumptions about gender roles in examples and scenarios.

Cultural Sensitivity

Be even handed in your treatment of cultural groups. So:

  • Capitalize racial, ethnic and cultural identifiers (Black, Indigenous, Asian)
  • Avoid idioms that have discriminatory origins
  • Be specific about cultural references rather than using broad generalizations
  • Only refer to cultural elements if they are relevant to your content

Ability and Disability

Be even handed in your treatment of people. So:

  • Focus on the person, not the condition
  • Avoid inspiration porn or portraying people with disabilities as either victims or superheroes
  • Use neutral language that describes situations factually
  • Follow the preferred terminology of disability communities with sensitivity

Implementing Conscious Language in Your Writing

Awareness is an important starting point so research areas which you may be less confident about.

Start with Self-Education

Initially acknowledging that we all have biases and blind spots brings the enquiring mindset we need for researching conscious language. Commit to ongoing learning about different communities and their preferred terminology. Follow diverse voices in your reading, read style guides from various organizations, and stay current with evolving language preferences.

Create Style Guidelines

As a writer you may like to develop your own language preferences into a style guide. As an editor you may have a set of style guides which you develop to work with different authors.

Update your style guide(s) to include conscious language principles. This might include:

  • lists of preferred terms and terms to avoid
  • preferences for guidance on describing different communities
  • resources for fact-checking and consultation
  • your own processes for updating guidelines as language evolves

Seek Input and Feedback

Comprehensive knowledge of all the conscious language options is not necessary. However, an open mindset to select appropriate conscious language words and phrases is important.

  • Consult with sensitivity readers when you are writing about experiences outside your own
  • Build relationships with diverse communities
  • Create ways to gather reader feedback early in the writing process
  • Be open to learning from mistakes and making corrections
  • Maintain transparency in your commitment to conscious language

Common Challenges and Solutions

‘But they used to talk like that!’

Some may resist conscious language as unnecessary or restricting. Help them see that language shapes thinking and experience. Share examples of the importance of thoughtful word choice and how improved communication has a positive impact.

Fear of Making Mistakes

‘You may worry about getting it wrong. Remember that conscious language use is a journey, not a destination. Create an environment where learning from mistakes is encouraged and constructive feedback is welcomed.

Balancing Authenticity and Sensitivity

Writers might worry that conscious language will make their writing feel unreal or inauthentic. That then is the challenge – to maintain the conscious language and not be offensive to the modern reader whilst incorporating the meaning you seek to put across in your writing. With practice, conscious language becomes natural and enhances rather than restricts creativity.

Moving Forward

Conscious language use is an essential skill for modern writers and editors. It’s about evolving our writing craft to meet the needs of an increasingly diverse and connected world. By embracing conscious language, we:

  • Create more inclusive and welcoming writing and stories
  • Improve the precision and impact of our writing
  • Contribute to positive social messages
  • Build stronger connections with our readers

Start where you are, stay open to learning, and keep moving forward. Your commitment to conscious language will make you a better writer and contribute to a more thoughtful, inclusive experiences for your readers.

What steps will you take today to make your writing more conscious and inclusive? Get in touch and let me know.

Resources https://consciousstyleguide.com/

Book Review: ‘Leonard and Hungry Paul’ by Rónán Hession

Read time: < 1 min

I found Leonard and Hungry Paul delightful, the characters are superbly individual, and the story is softly charming and powerfully insightful at the same time.

Leonard and Hungry Paul are friends who live and work in a small town in Ireland. Leonard writes contributions for children’s encyclopaedias and Hungry Paul is a postman. In their time off they go on walks together, play board games and talk about life. Perhaps the setting might seem to offer little scope for deeply engaging storytelling.

Two-protagonist story

This story is a masterpiece of character-driven two-protagonist fiction. The characters have different outlooks on life. Hungry Paul does not overthink things, whereas Leonard likes to consider ideas of reality and the meaning of life. The two friends accept each other for who they are, and the story offers wise observations about life. For example, Leonard says at one point, ‘The meaning of life is to find your own meaning.’ Who can argue with that?

Gentleness

Expertly crafted such that what happens appears almost to sneak up on you. This is a read to savour and, if you’re anything like me, you’ll be reflecting on your time with Leonard and Hungry Paul for a long while afterwards. What a joy!

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Interview with Michael Forester

Read time: 15 mins

Having published books on a wide range of subjects, including business strategy, epic fantasy poetry and spiritual inspiration, writer Michael Forester, describes his writing life.

He passes on his tips for new writers and finishes by reading a short extract from his recently published Forest Pathways (2023).

Click to start the video and turn CC on for subtitles (run time 28.42 mins).

Transcript

Jill: Thank you for this interview, Michael. I was delighted to workwith you on your ‘Forest Pathways’ book. You have a series of books. How did publishing your first book change how you viewed your writing?

Michael: It’s an extended answer, Jill, in so far as I was traditionally published in business writing in the last century. I used two different traditional publishers of business books and both were quite successful, but there was a complete change of direction in both life and business in the millennium year. I started writing creatively and my life changed fundamentally, it took me out of the business world over a period of time. I expected to sail into traditional publication with creative writing in the same way as I more or less had with business writing and it was a major surprise when I found out how much more difficult it is to get creative books published so I came from a stable where I knew I could write books and I knew publishers wanted them into an environment where there was vastly more scepticism. ‘Oh, you think you’re a writer, do you? Oh, let’s take a look, oh no that’s not going to work.’ And over the course of my first independently published book, which is this one ‘If It Wasn’t for That Dog’ I think I approached, in the plan to publish, something of the order of forty agents and forty publishers.  

It’s a book that is perceived to be about disability. Everybody has to be very polite to you. ‘Oh, yes looks really good. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite fit our lists.’ And I had this repeated eighty times over. So in the end I approached Hearing Dogs for Deaf People and said ‘I’m going to self-publish this book.’ And we were fortunate in so far as it was the beginning of Print On Demand and the Arts Council gave me a grant for the initial publication of the book so we went, with considerable inexperience, through the process and ended up with a whole stack of books. And it changed fundamental my belief that I needed a traditional publisher. Because there I was sitting with my book, which I was more than pleased with. The problem then was distribution.  

Jill: It sounds like you certainly learnt the art of persistence.  

Michael: I think tenacity is probably the single most important watch word of creative writing you get on with it. You don’t listen to your own internal editor which tells you ‘You are writing rubbish today’. You don’t listen to all the naysayers who say ‘… terribly difficult to do.’ You just do write. And then when you have got the book then we work on how we’re going to do something with that book. Until you overcome that unbelief in yourself you don’t have anything to start with.  

Jill: I have got a couple of your books here and you’ve already shown one on the screen there so out of all of the books you have written,in recent years, which was the easiest would you say to write?  

Michael: A very difficult question because the were easy and hard, in their respective ways, at the same time. I think it’s the overcoming of that unbelief that changes everything you know it’s like climbing and extremely challenging mountain. Until you get to that point where you believe what you can do and then it becomes easy, in the case of my second self-published book, ‘Dragonsong’ it actually took me only three months to write, I was in a very different frame of mind from the usual. I’d just gone through a profound nervous breakdown, which is detailed with a bit more information in my book ‘Forest Rain’ but it put me in a mentally very different space and this thing whatever it was started to come to me I wrote a poem, a , 3,000-word poem about dragons and magicians. I was well pleased with that. My goodness , 3,000 words of rhyming poetry that’s something. I was lying in bed one night thinking, hang on it’s not finished and I went and wrote the next stage and in the end I had a , 32,000-word book. An epic fantasy in the tradition of ‘Garwain and the Green Knight’, ‘Beowulf’ or perhaps ‘Homer’ and I had a book that was like nothing else I had never seen before in the twentieth or twenty-first century, so that was a joy to write because I was totally and utterly absorbed in it. I was on a different planet you might say.  

Jill: So that’s the one that was the quickest and presumably that you enjoyed the most writing.  

Michael: I enjoyed them in different ways. In a sense writing this one, my first self-published novel ‘Viscious’, was the most enjoyable. Once I had got hold of the fact that I was writing a book then I just let the characters tell their stories. It started lying on a sunbed in Tenerife, and I began to formulate the idea for a short story and then a completely different short story appeared and for then another and eventually there were four of them, jumbled about in my head all at once. Until it clicked that I was writing about four characters who shared the same journey, or overlapping journey and at that point I allowed the story then to take over and for the characters to tell their own story. So that was probably the most enjoyable in that sense.  

Jill: Really insightful, how the characters take over. So, in the process I think from what you’re saying it’s very creative and you go as you feel but do you have a plan, a structure before you start? Are you a pantser or a plotter?  

Michael: I’m not very organised in that respect. If you go to university of writing school or something they’ll tell you this is what you need – you need to plot your novel. It didn’t work that way for me, in fact it still doesn’t, it takes me a while to realise that I’m working on a new book and I’m just, at that point, writing. I allow writing, my creativity, to have complete freedom and then at some point it will click, I realise, ‘Ah, this is what I’m writing’. And at that point I start to start to formulate a bit more of a plan but in my opinion, you’ve got to be a bit careful how quickly you introduce that because once your internal editor starts speaking to you first of all they’ll tell you, ‘You know you’re not writing very well today. Cross all that out throw that away.’ And then they’ll tell you to go in a given direction. I want to say today, in my opinion, the most effective way of writing, the best communication, is to let go and let your storyteller tell their story first, all of the editing can come back later. You can tear out 0% if you want to but you need that freedom before you start to begin to control it. So I have a minimum amount of planning at the early stages and then I undertake whatever revisions are necessary when I come to that first review of the text.  

Jill: This reminds me of a quote, that I think was from Stephen King, where he says, ‘The first draft is you telling yourself the story.’ So kill the internal editor at that stage completely and do the editing afterwards, just so you get the production. Have you any superstitions, or magic thoughts perhaps even, about creativity and inspiration?  

Michael: I wouldn’t use the word superstition. I think more in terms of being aware of what is unseen around us. And I know that creativity comes to me when I let go when I stop trying to control things. Normally we’ll write a line or two and then a voice will cut in as I say, and tell you it’s no good. That’s the editor tell him to be quiet tell her to be quiet, they’ll get their chance later on, what you need first of all is let your creative flow sounds. However daft it sounds to you, however rubbish you think you’re writing today, write through that, wherever you are and then the flow comes and then you have something creative that you can work with. Until you break through that barrier of unbelief, you don’t have anything worthwhile, in my opinion. So, not superstition but awareness of the spirit of writing perhaps if I can put it that way.  

Jill: I don’t know if you’ve seen this one but Elizabeth Gilbert puts it in a similar way, that it’s something you need to get out of the way of rather than control.  

Michael: That’s very well put indeed. We have to stop impeding our creativity.  

Jill: Can you put your finger on what the inspiration was for your most recent publication, ‘Forest Pathways’?  

Michael: The secret’s in the title, Jill. The New Forest has been my biggest inspiration for twenty-five years and, in the case of ‘Forest Pathways’, in particular, which you were kind enough to proofread for me, I went out into the forest and allowed my inspiration to come, allowed the forest to connect with me and it was by solitary walking and using the silence, particularly during lockdown or the part of lockdown when we were allowed to be out locally. Fortunately, living where I do, in the New Forest District Council area, is that everybody in the area can go into the forest   so, I had the forest almost to myself. It was a luxury I had not known in many years. And I walked and I walked and I walked and I allowed the spirit of the forest to talk to me, and it resulted in ‘Forest Pathways’.  

Jill: It’s a positive that’s come out of all that pandemic.  

Michael: I think a lot of people did a lot of writing in the pandemic. Certainly, if you were working on a project, it gave you time that you wouldn’t otherwise have had. It hit all of us emotionally and I certainly at the beginning found myself floundering because at that moment I was not working on anything and it took a while for me to get into what was a different way of being that we were all facing and then came the opportunity to get out and get the job.  

Jill: What do you like the most then about writing a story?  

Michael: I think the earlier part of it when the creativity is flowing really at some point you do have to let that editor get to work and then it becomes a bit more drudgery and I think ‘Oh no, I’ve got four hundred pages to cut down to two-hundred and fifty, or whatever it’s going to be and that then becomes a job of work but it’s a joyful job because I know what I will end up with at the end of the project.  

Jill: So, the mundane side of it I suppose, and what novice writers are always really intrigued by. What is your process, your writing schedule? Do you have a preferred location for example?  

Michael: Embarrassingly chaotic. I have been a little bit more disciplined this year my partner the poet, Jackie Haskell and I, have been going to the cafe together to do what we refer to as writing practise not practice in the sense of trying to get better but practising writing. So, on a nearly daily basis now I will go and spend twenty minutes just free flow writing but my normal pattern over twenty-five years has not been organised it must be said. I tend to write very, very intensively for short periods of time. So if I’m working on a book it can be up to sixteen hours a day. I wouldn’t say it’s a very healthy way of spending your day. I gave myself sciatica by doing that unfortunately. So I am aware I mustn’t overdo it but I become very focused, very absorbed and write intensively and then I will not write for a period of time. Particularly being not only self-published but also a self-distributing author of course a large proportion of my year is already devoted to distribution of books in one way or another.  

Jill: And what about software choice, do you work in Word?  

Michael: It depends on where originate, so walking out in the forest to write ‘Forest Pathways’ I dictated onto my iPhone into Notes and I guess it was 70 to 80% accurate so I would then email that to myself download from the email into Word and there would be a lot of errors to correct at that point. But working at the cafe, I’m writing longhand now and then I will dictate that simply because it’s faster than typing. Once then I’ve got a body of text is relatively easier to work on that for a non-trained typist like me.  

Jill: So all sorts of different ways then.  

Michael: Oh I think as many different ways as there are authors, you find the way that works for you.  

Jill: So have you got a superfan? Who’s the biggest supporter of your writing?  

Michael: I’ve got two people who support my belief in my writing. One is Jacqueline Haskell, my partner who regularly pushes me and convinces me, yes, you’re doing something good or work on this a bit more or whatever. And then there is the person that so faithfully helps me when I’m doing event work, distributing books, my friend and former business partner, Susan Aldworth, she knows my books very well indeed and she’s a complete faithful believer in what I’m doing. So if I need pepping up at one time or another then one of those two will be the useful person to talk to.

Jill: If you were now able to speak to your teenage self, what sort of advice would you pass on to that person, about your writing, about writing?  

Michael: I think it would be, write, write, write right now. Write it, write it, write it. Don’t show anybody don’t accept any criticism don’t listen to what anybody else thinks. All that matters is that you get into that habit and process of writing everything else can come later. Criticism, the technique of learning how to do it. You might be learning bad habits but until you get the opportunity to go to writing school university whatever it happens to be, whichever route you choose, the writing I would say as a habit needs to become established first so I say, ‘Get off the screen. Get away from the television. Get out there and write. Go and sit somewhere where nobody’s talking to you and get on with the job. It doesn’t matter if it never sees the light of day. What matters is that you are doing it’.  

Jill: That’s powerful advice, thank you.  So, the strongest influences in your writing? I can see nature very strongly.  

Michael: I have to ask you to repeat the question, Jill. I’m sorry, I didn’t see that.  

Jill: The strongest influences I’m asking for in your writing. I see it as being nature but that may be simplistic.  

Michael: I think that’s certainly part of the picture but perhaps it’ll help that if I tell you when I decided that I was going to commit to creative writing there were two people who were my sources of inspiration, two authors. One was Isabel Allende but not for the fictional books that she writes and not even for ‘House of Spirits’ her very famous book but she wrote a book about the death of her daughter called ‘Paula’, and I recommend everybody to read that book, it’s one of the most profoundly emotional books I’ve ever come across. She takes this most challenging of subjects and she just writes faithfully about how the process happened and what the effect was on her, her living family, her passed-on family she writes a particular scene where the family gathers in the room where the young woman is about to pass and the dead relatives arrive first. Bearing in mind, Isabel Allende is Chilean and comes from a tradition where spirit is seen visibly in a way we don’t do so much in the West. And her living family came and joined her. I was just so utterly blown away by this book and this scene in particularly, and I thought, ‘If I can write emotionally half as well as that I’ll be a very happy author.’ 

The other person and a book, probably largely forgotten by now. In the 1970s one Robert Pirsig, wrote a book called ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’. It was a cult book in the 0s when I was at university and it’s a book I have never really drifted away from, I’ve read it several times over. So, when I came to creative writing as opposed to business writing I said, ‘If I can write intellectually half as well as Robert Pirsig, I’ll be a happy author.’

So I guess now, I’m a happy author I write, I would say about half as well as Isabel Allende and about half as well as Robert Pirsig.    

Jill: So, another question then but you’ve probably answered it already in that question. Do you have favourite authors?    

Michael: I do and once I’ve read those books they are there, I refer back to them. Probably my single most favourite author is Kazuo Ishiguro. There are a suite of books out there most of which have been shortlisted for the Booker, Man Booker and so on. These books are so insightful it’s easy to miss the depths that are in there, you could call on any one of them but I suppose the one that comes to mind particularly is ‘The Buried Giant’. Which I’ve read perhaps four times now. Apparently, it’s this innocent-looking little lightweight fantasy book but once you understand what he’s doing, there’s something happening at a totally different level here. Profound, profound insightful man.

Cormac McCarthy is another favourite and the book everybody shies away from, the first one he wrote, ‘Blood Meridian’ I think is one of the most powerful and honest books I’ve ever come across and the stylistic aspects of the book the writing capability is superb. So, I would say face the stuff we don’t want to read. It’s the history of what happened in the American West. And it’s faithful and it’s honest and it’s very, very painful indeed to read. George Orwell, a guru of mine, non-fiction as well as fiction, yes ‘1984’, yes ‘Animal Farm’ but the book that turned around my life totally was ‘The Road to Wigan Pier’ which I read when I was twenty-one.

Two others I guess just come to mind, Yann Martel. Everybody knows ‘Life of Pi’ which won the Booker in the early part of the century, or perhaps it was even but I would say he got better after that. He’s not, in my opinion, properly recognised for his insightfulness, I would say try ‘The High Mountains of Portugal’ which is one of the most avant-garde insightful, profound books that that I’ve some across.   These words keep coming up in my discourse, don’t they? Insightful, profound, that is what I’m looking for in reading. I’m not looking for lightweight. Which is fine if you’re lying on a beach, two weeks in the sunshine and you want a doorstep novel yes, I’m not decrying any of that. But I’m looking for people, writers who help me develop and help me grow. I’m looking for insight. I’m looking for depth. I’m looking for what is profound.

And finally, possibly my favourite author of all, a less well-known writer by the name of, Geoff Dyer, a British author and I would simply say, read a book of his called ‘But Beautiful’. In my opinion it is possibly the most beautiful book ever written.  

Jill: Thank you, really great recommendations. And now for a reading of yours.  

‘Forest Pathways’

Michael: Here is ‘Forest Pathways’ which you were kind enough to proofread for me very effectively. Thank you for making my book a better book, Jill.  

I want read the first off, I think we’ve got about thirty pieces in this book, if I remember correctly, yes. This is the first of thirty pieces and it’s called ‘When I Am Sleeping’. Perhaps I should say the book is a collection of fiction, non-fiction and poetry inspired by walks in the forest and we start with ‘When I Am Sleeping’. 

‘When I Am Sleeping’

‘It’s been a long time,’ she said. Then she paused, waiting for my reply. ‘I was ready for you,’ she continued, when I didn’t answer. ‘I dressed special for you – put on my finest. You always say autumnal colours suit me best. But you didn’t come.’

It was an expression more of disappointment than accusation. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, feeling uncomfortable as I looked down at the decaying leaves. ‘Now look,’ she said in her sadness, gesturing about herself. ‘It’s almost all gone.’ I looked up, knowing she was right. There was a quiet, muted sleepiness about her, as if her mind was elsewhere.  

‘I wanted to come,’ I began. ‘I intended to come – really.’ She waited for more but embarrassment made the words stick in my throat. I was in the wrong, without excuse.

‘But you had more important things to do?’ she ventured. I drew my breath in sharply. ‘No,’ I replied, not that. Never that. Nothing is more important than coming to be with you.’ ‘Why then?’

I fell silent again. ‘It’s hard to explain,’ I said, eventually. ‘There’s been a listlessness about me. A drop in my energy. I’ve not been able to motivate myself. I can’t say why.’  

‘I know what you mean,’ she said, gesturing to the waning colour of late autumn. The branches of the trees were becoming visible, where just a week or so ago they would have been wrapped in a coat of colour.

‘All right, I was depressed,’ I confessed finally. ‘I couldn’t motivate myself to come to you.’ I knew how weak it sounded. She waited for more but I had nothing else to add. The silence stood between us like a barrier, a wall, forbidding me to step across.  

‘I’m still here for you,’ she responded, finally. ‘I will always be here for you. You do know that don’t you? Just like you know you always feel better when you come to me.’   She was right.

Whenever I shake off the bonds of lethargy to walk with her, it’s like she wakens my soul. I become aware, not just of her and the creatures that she tends to, but of the Spirit that moves the heart in her and beyond. And when I’m lucky enough, or open enough, or maybe just ready enough, that Spirit begins to move me too and, if I’m willing to listen, to open up to the truth that dwells behind the illusion.

So, I walked her paths again and the silence that had been a wall became a lovers’ bridge, as I watched her prepare her children and herself for sleep. When it was time for me to go, I turned to walk away.

Then she spoke again. ‘Don’t leave it so long next time,’ she said. ‘Come back when I am sleeping, when the snow hangs heavy on my boughs. Come and be with me in the silence. You know that it is in the silence that you find yourself again.’  

And we both knew she was right.    

Jill: That’s lovely, thank you. Thank you.    

Michael: All I can say – is may you be happy Jill, may all beings be happy and free from suffering. Take the time to go on a walk in nature, be it the empty seashore, be it on the plains, be it in the forest and if you can’t find anywhere else walk through the streets as if they were the forest and feel, reach out for what you connect to.

Jill: That’s wonderful. Thank you Michael, what an inspiration.  

Michael: Thank you.  

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Book Review: ‘Small Things Like These’ by Claire Keegan

Read time: < 1 min

Claire Keegan sets Small Things Like These in 1985 where Bill Furlong, a loving husband and caring father, with five daughters, delivers fuel in County Wexford, Ireland. One of his customers is a convent on the outskirts of New Ross. One day, he notices that there is a poor girl seemingly living in the coal store there. She has no shoes and is asking for her baby but appears to be uncared for and in a terrible state. It becomes clear that the activities of the convent are an open secret, and it is what became known as a Magdalene Laundry.

There But For The Grace …

The approximately 30,000 unfortunate young women who were sent to these establishments were those who became pregnant out of wedlock and, due to this, were ostracised. Indeed, Bill’s own mother could have suffered this fate had she not been taken in by a wealthy and caring woman in the area back when he came into the world. The recollection of this gives Bill a deep appreciation of the knife-edge that can divide a good life and a miserable one.

The Dilemma

In 1985, Bill and his wife are not well-off and struggle to provide for their family as Bill ponders the plight of the girl he saw in the coal cellar at the convent. As the novella progresses, will Bill get on with his life or somehow make room in it to help the girl who his community would regard as ‘of low character’ and ‘common’?

Bill is a delightful and relatable character, very well-drawn, relatable and with compelling compassion. This book is a joy to read, and I found the characters stayed with me long after my first reading.

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Book Review: ‘Foster’ by Claire Keegan

Read time: 2 mins

This is a wholehearted recommendation. I enjoy novellas, they are quick to read compared to a novel, but have the scope to be more involving than a short story. Having finished a novella, I often think about the characters for a long time, mulling over the story and careful wordcraft of the author. One excellent example is Foster by Wicklow author, Claire Keegan.

Point of view

This short book packs real emotional impact and is delicately wrought. Set in rural Wexford, Ireland, in 1981, the story plays out over the school summer holidays when the 9-year-old child of a poor family is cared for by a distantly related child-less couple. Keegan has chosen to write the story in the continuous present tense and in a first-person omniscient narrative voice. This choice gives access to the child’s perspective and inner world, but without full access to the thoughts and feelings of all the characters.

The story is about love and loss within the family setting, and how tenderness and kindness can restore hope in the neglected. In literary criticism it would be classified as a bildungsroman novella, as it is a coming-of-age story and focusses on the psychological and moral growth of a child.

Fine lines

There are many beautiful lines in the story, including early on ‘I was a new creature who had climbed out of the dark, who had found her own voice, her own way.’

And wonderful description like ‘The light was warm and honey-coloured and it spilled itself like syrup over everything.’

The novella has been a great success since its publication in 2009, when it won the Davy Byrnes Short Story Award.

In a 2010 interview Keegan said, ‘It’s essentially about trusting in the reader’s intelligence rather than labouring a point. To work on the level of suggestion is what I aim for in all my writing.’

In my opinion she has achieved this most admirably and this highly evocative and heart-warming story is best read slowly as there is much left unsaid giving a depth best appreciated with mulling and consideration.

If you prefer to watch the story, it is a film The Quiet Girl, directed by Colm Bairéad, shot in 2020. It was the first-ever film in the Irish language to be short listed for an Oscar and became the highest-grossing Irish-language film.

Beginning, Middle and End

Read time: 4 mins

Stories have been an integral part of human culture for centuries. From ancient myths to modern-day novels, stories have entertained, educated and inspired people across time and place. A key element of a good story is its structure, which typically includes a beginning, a middle and an end. I would argue that, for a compelling narrative, stories need a balance with their beginning, middle and end and within each section change needs to occur.

Beginning

The beginning of a story sets the stage for what is to come. It introduces the main characters, establishes the setting and provides the reader with a sense of the story’s tone and mood. In many ways, the beginning of a story is like a first impression: it sets the reader’s expectations for what is to come. You may like to consider including a prologue.

The beginning gives you the proposal for the story you are going to read. Without a beginning a story has no context.

The first line of a novel is especially important to spark interest and intrigue, so the reader is engaged. If the beginning is slow, confusing or uninteresting, the reader may lose interest and stop reading. To avoid this, writers often employ various techniques to hook the reader in from the very beginning. This might include starting with a dramatic event, a vivid description, or an intriguing question. For example, the opening sentence of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë: ‘There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.’ This seemingly mundane sentence immediately raises questions in the reader’s mind: Why couldn’t they take a walk? What’s going to happen instead? By the end of the first paragraph, the reader is fully invested in the story and eager to find out what happens next.

Another fine first line is in Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, where he writes: ‘It was a pleasure to burn.’ This line prompts many questions!

Middle

The middle of a story is where the action happens. This is where the characters face challenges and obstacles, where the plot thickens, and where the tension builds. The middle – the heart of the story, is where the reader should become more emotionally invested in the characters and the outcome of the story. This is where the argument of the story plays out. Here the writer has the most opportunity to show their storytelling skills, using vivid language, suspenseful pacing and well-thought-out plot twists to keep the reader involved.

Care needs to be taken in the middle section to avoid getting bogged down in too much detail or losing sight of the main plot. To avoid this, writers often plan using outlines or storyboards to keep the plot on track and to make sure each scene serves a purpose.

Bestselling author, James Scott Bell, has written a book on the unusual approach of writing a novel by starting with the middle of the story and, having studied the structure of stories in movies and books, he writes:

What I found was that this midpoint … is the moment that tells us what the novel or movie is really all about.

You see, the character is going to have to face a death of some kind in the story. There are three kinds of death and one or more will confront the character, in bold relief, right smack dab in the middle of your novel.

James Scott Bell Write Your Novel From The Middle: A New Approach for Plotters, Pantsers and Everyone in Between (Bell on Writing), 2014

The middle section of the story can be made more engaging by including tests or challenges for characters and heightening conflict.

End

The end of a story is where everything comes together and where a conclusion is given. Here the main plot is resolved, loose ends are tied in, and the reader should get a sense of closure. The ending is often the most memorable part of a story and is what the reader will be left with long after they’ve finished reading.

To write a satisfying ending can be challenging. It’s important to strike the right balance between resolution and ambiguity, between closure and open-endedness. A good ending should leave the reader feeling satisfied, although not necessarily comfortable. The end should seem true to the story and the characters, rather than forced or contrived.

One technique that many writers use to create a satisfying ending is a twist. This is where the reader’s expectations are subverted in some way, and the ending takes an unexpected turn. For example, in the short story The Lottery by Shirley Jackson, the reader expects a pleasant town event, but the twist ending reveals a dark and disturbing ritual. This type of ending can be very effective, but it should be used sparingly and only when it serves the story.

In conclusion, the structure of a story with a beginning, middle and end is a time-tested approach for creating a compelling narrative. The beginning sets the stage, the middle builds the tension, and the end provides closure and resolution. However, there are many options for a successful story and this structure is by no means a rigid formula. Some writers will play with the order of events or experiment with non-linear narratives. Others may use different techniques, such as multiple perspectives or stream-of-consciousness narration, to tell their stories. Some authors choose to round off their story ending with an epilogue. The key is to find the structure that best serves the story and to use it to create a narrative that is engaging, meaningful and memorable.

Ultimately, a good story is about more than just its structure. It’s about the characters, the setting, the themes and the emotions it evokes in the reader. From a basic structure with a beginning, middle and end, writers can create a solid foundation on which to build a great story. The beginning hooks the reader in, the middle keeps them engaged, and the end leaves them satisfied. With these elements in place, a writer can craft a story that resonates with readers and can have them seeking out more of the author’s stories.

Illustration courtesy of sketchrobin.com

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Book Review: ‘The Map of Leaves’ by Yarrow Townsend

Read time: 2 mins

At the front of the YA title, A Map of Leaves by Yarrow Townsend (published by Chicken House) is a delightful map, with places like Roaring Weir and Dead Elm Strand. The inclusion of a map often promises an adventurous journey, and that is the case here.

Plants matter

We soon meet twelve-year-old Orla Carson, and her horse Captain, but already we are launched into a world where the interconnectedness of humans and nature, especially plants, is clear. Orla was introduced to the magic of the plant world by her mother, who passed on a profound understanding of the properties, uses and unique qualities of the plants in their garden and beyond. Orla lives alone now and magically; plants speak to her. She is using different plants to treat Captain’s hoof.

Avoiding spoilers here. Changes lead to Orla’s way of life being threatened, and with fierce independence and bravery she sets out to discover what disease is damaging the plants. The problem has also led to people getting sick and dying, so the stakes are high.

Adventurous journey

On her travels Orla meets Idris and Ariana, who work to help her overcome some of the difficulties, at times despite Orla’s impatience and drive to correct the wrong impression many have of her mother, who also tried to counter the threat to the plants and villagers. The map is brought into good use as the journey takes Orla far up river and into areas she does not remember ever having been before. On the journey she gets to know Haulers, who she was rightly suspicious of, and she works against the interests of the Warden. She finds more about her mother’s efforts to find solutions.

Plant knowledge

A well-paced and exciting tale, this book is a joy. Inventively told in chapters which each begin with a description of a plant that has significance within the chapter. The language choice is fresh with well-observed descriptions of plants within their settings, including gardens, fields, dark forests, fast-flowing rivers and underwater. To give you a flavour, here is a quote:

‘Some had leaves that curled and twisted against the glass. Others draped strings of red berries like jewels from hidden vines. Flowers like angels’ trumpets gathered high in the rafters, while creeping roots ran down like claws into the earth.’

— Yarrow Townsend, The Map of Leaves

The themes are of friendship and courage, with a strong appreciation of the importance of valuing and nurturing the environment. The story also shows how different characters can work for a common good, even when their goals do not completely align.

A page-turner of a tale with well-crafted characters and beautiful illustrations. It is hard to believe this is Yarrow Townsend’s debut, certainly an author to follow, whether the next book has a map at the front or not.

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Should My Book Have An Epilogue?

Read time: 3 mins

An epilogue – the final section of a story – brings closure and ties in loose ends. It can be an essential part of a narrative, helping to connect different elements of a story and give the reader some sense of resolution. But is an epilogue needed? There are pros and cons of including an epilogue in your story, and you’ll need to consider whether it’s right for your story.

Pros of an epilogue

  • Closure: An epilogue can provide closure, and resolution to a tale. This can be especially important in a longer story, where the reader has invested more time following the narrative and its characters.
  • Future insight: An epilogue can give the reader a glimpse into the future, showing what happens to the characters after the main events have taken place. As well as closure, this can provide a deeper understanding of the characters and their experiences.
  • Aesthetic appeal: An epilogue can be a beautiful and moving way to end a story. It can provide a sense of nostalgia and evoke emotions, helping the story and its characters be remembered long into the future.

Cons of an epilogue

  • Unnecessary information: Wrongly applied an epilogue may introduce information that seems unnecessary or irrelevant to the main story. This can reduce the impact of the narrative and detract from the reader’s experience.
  • Predictable: An epilogue can be predictable and formulaic, which gives a stereotypical ending to a story. This could be disappointing for readers who expect a more original and creative conclusion.
  • Detachment from the main story: An epilogue can sometimes feel detached from the main story, as if it is separate and unrelated. This can be distracting and detract from the overall flow and cohesiveness of the narrative. It could appear to be a clumsy trail for a follow-on story to come.

Good examples

Here are some examples of stories with well-crafted epilogues and what they add to the book:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen – here the epilogue provides a glimpse into the future of Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, showing how the author sees their relationship would develop.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee – this epilogue gives a view of where Scout, the narrator, gets to beyond the story, this adds interest and serves as a strong conclusion.

The Handmaiden’s Tale by Margaret Atwood – includes a commentary from the far future within an epilogue which discloses the nature of the medium used in of the rest of the book. This ending brings details of enormous impact about the protagonist (no spoilers, but a great example if you are considering a high-impact closing section to your story).

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien – this epilogue unites different elements of the story and gives the reader an idea of what the characters go on to do after their main adventure.

The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald – here the epilogue again shows the future of the characters and allows the readers to gain a deeper understanding of the story’s themes, including wealth, love and decadence.

Conclusion

Whether you include an epilogue in your story depends on your narrative. It can provide closure, more information on the characters and evoke emotions in the reader, but it can also be unnecessary, predictable and detached from the main story – lots to consider. Whatever you decide about using an epilogue, a well-balanced story will have a beginning, a middle and an end.

Illustration courtesy of sketchrobin.com

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The Joy of Stories

Read time: 2 mins

Stories have been a part of human culture for as long as we can remember. From ancient cave paintings to modern-day novels, storytelling has how we have preserved and passed on our cultural traditions, beliefs, and values between one another and from one generation to the next. But why do we find so much joy in stories? The answer lies in the power of imagination and empathy.

The power of imagination and empathy

Imagination is a crucial feature of the human experience. It allows us to escape a mundane reality and enter into new worlds filled with endless possibilities. When we read a good book, our minds become completely absorbed in the story. We visualize the characters, their surroundings, and the events that unfold, allowing us to experience the story in a way that feels real to us. This form of escapism is enjoyable and may also be therapeutic. It allows us to take a break from the stresses of our daily life and experience emotions and situations that we may never encounter in our own lives.

Increased compassion

Stories also have the power to evoke empathy. When we read or hear a story, we become emotionally invested in the characters and their experiences. We may laugh, cry or become angry along with them, allowing us to better understand and relate to the emotions they are feeling. This form of emotional connection helps us develop a deeper understanding and appreciation of the complexities of human experience, and can even lead to increased compassion and understanding for others.

Another aspect of the joy of stories is their ability to provide comfort and solace. Many of us have memories of being read to as children, or of losing ourselves in a good book during difficult times. The familiarity of a well-loved story can bring us comfort and a sense of security. The themes of hope, perseverance and triumph over adversity that are often found in stories can provide inspiration and encouragement, reminding us that no matter how difficult life may seem, there is always the possibility of a hopeful outcome.

Encouraging critical thinking

Stories also can challenge us, pushing us to think critically and expand our perspectives. They can introduce us to new ideas and experiences and challenge our preconceived notions about the world. For example, a story set in a different time or culture can help us better understand and appreciate the experiences of others, and can broaden our understanding of what it means to be human.

In conclusion, the joy of stories lies in their ability to transport us to new worlds, evoke empathy, provide comfort, and challenge us to think more critically. Whether we are reading a book, hearing an audiobook or listening to a friend’s tale, stories have the power to captivate and inspire us – they bring us closer together as human beings. So next time you find yourself lost in a good book, whether as a reader or as a writer, you’re sharing the joy of stories and the power they have to enrich our lives.

Illustration courtesy of Rob Heppell

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