Capturing

How can you not love a book that opens with the line, “I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.”?

I have just completed I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. This is a gorgeous novel written in the 1940s. I absolutely adored the eccentric cast of characters and their bohemian life in a crumbling English castle.

Of particular interest to me was central character and narrator, Cassandra, who fancies herself as a writer. The novel is written in the form of her journal where not only does she recount the happenings of her life and the goings on within her family, but where she also intends to capture all their characters and “put in conversations” in order to improve her writing style, which she feels has been “stiff and self-conscious” up to date.  

She is not always satisfied with her “captures” and vows to work harder at her craft.

“I am aware this is not a fair portrait of him. I must capture him again later.”

“How can one capture the pool of light in the courtyard, the golden windows, the strange long-ago look ...?”

“Capture father! Why, I don’t know anything about anyone!”

What glorious fodder for a writer – and what excellent advice. I love the notion of “capturing”. Isn’t this exactly what we try to do as writers? To capture characters, moments, feelings and places and somehow translate them into words on the page. To capture them precisely or evocatively or eloquently. Or originally? Uniquely?

It is also interesting to note that Smith was so anxious about her novel that once she completed the manuscript, she worked on her revisions for a further two years, where she wrote and rewrote every line. It shows! The characters are so superbly drawn and deliciously quirky, the relationships between the characters complex, authentic and true, and the voice of the narrator doesn’t miss a beat.

For writers and aspiring writers this book is a must-read. There are so many lessons hidden within each page. I don’t know how I have managed to get through life without reading it before now.

Thank you, Mr Sendak

“The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind.

And another.

His mother called him “WILD THING!”

And Max said: “I’LL EAT YOU UP!”

So Max was sent to bed without eating anything.

That very night in Max’s room a forest grew

And grew–”

And so begins the magnificent Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. This wonderful romp into the imagination has such special meaning for me. Published in 1963, it was a controversial, rule- and ground- breaking book.

Though a child of the Sixties, Where the Wild Things Are isn’t part of my childhood memories. In fact it wasn’t until I was a young teacher in the Eighties that I became aware of it. And it was love at first sight.

Where the Wild Things Are was the book that inspired many a lesson and spirited reading; the book that I could recite from memory (and frequently did); the book that terrified my own children (perhaps it was that spirited reading and my over-enthusiastic gnashing of teeth!); the book that opened my eyes and heart to the world of children’s literature; and ultimately the book that stirred in me the desire to become a writer of children’s books myself.

One sizzling hot day on a trip to New York I accidentally stumbled on a gallery in Soho that housed a collection of original drawings, roughs and paintings from Where the Wild Things Are. I was in a particularly grumpy mood this day: it was stinking hot and we’d just missed the ferry to the Statue of Liberty. My husband ushered me inside the gallery primarily because it was air-conditioned and we were desperate. When we realised that is was a children book illustration gallery, I can remember the wry smile that played on Pete’s lips. Pete is not a children’s book enthusiast, but he knows his wife. And when we went down stairs and discovered the Maurice Sendak drawings, he knew he’d struck gold. We stepped back out onto the sweltering pavement an hour or so later, after a wonderful discussion and tour with the curator, and my eyes were happy, my heart full.

Maurice Sendak passed away this week, aged 83. But his books live on, and will continue to inspire and bring great joy to young (and not so young) readers.            .

Thank you, Mr Sendak. Rest in peace.

Gathering

A new idea is slowly awakening. Slowly revealing itself to me. Piece by tiny piece. 

And I desperately hope that I can gather up all these beautiful pieces and weave them together to make what I can see in the confines of my mind and feel deep within the chambers of my heart come alive on the page. Time will tell, I suppose. But for now, I am a listener and a receiver, a ponderer and wonderer, a hunter and gatherer.

This is what I gathered today. And yes, I think I am gathering a love story. 

What next?

With my YA manuscript complete and with my publisher awaiting verdict, I have had a small and much needed break from writing, but now I know it is time to get on to the next novel.

And here lies my dilemma. I have been promising myself (and some of my readers) that the next novel I write will be a sequel to Get a Grip, Cooper Jones (You're an Idiot, Cooper Jones). I have worked out the structure of the novel (which I am excited about), know the basic plot and themes, have several pages of notes and ideas and a strong opening scene. I love writing from Cooper's perspective and am keen to delve back into his world at Wangaroo Bay. I am poised to go. But ...

Another idea has come to me. It is still rather nebulous, but tantalising nonetheless. All I really have is a title: The Awful Truth. A couple of opening lines, and the beginnings of a playlist that seems to capture the mood of the idea that is keeping me awake at night.

What should I do? Which book should I write?

Here is the first song on the playlist. Fix You, Coldplay.

Today's inspiration: The 10 pm Question

This is what has inspired me today.

"Frankie stared as usual at the painting hanging beside Ma's bed. It was dark and a little menacing and not at all the kind of picture Frankie would want to look at as he went to sleep, but Ma was devoted to it. A ghostly woman with long yellow hair stood, waiting, beside a four-poster bed hung with draperies. The brushwork was so fine you could make out each strand of the woman's hair and the strain on her knuckles." 


From The 10 pm Question, Kate de Goldi, p 33
Evocative writing that shows so much about Frankie in a beautifully subtle way.

Walking and writing

Recently, it was my daughter's 21st birthday. To celebrate we headed down the coast with a small group of her friends to a cedar cabin in the wilderness. There was much eating, drinking, surfing, swimming, laughing, swinging in hammocks, sitting around camp fires - it was a great weekend. A wonderful celebration.

Over the summer, I had been working diligently (and wrestling often) on my second draft of my WIP, and with about a dozen people to cater for and entertain over this particular weekend, I welcomed the chance to leave it at home and party for a while.

But I don't seem ever to be able to do that! Not completely anyway. I may have left the manuscript at home, but the story is always in my mind and no matter how hard I tried to push it out of my thoughts, it always pushed its way back in. (I don't think it helped that the property we were staying on was very similar to the setting of my novel.)

Every morning and every afternoon I headed off up this road for a bit of a walk. And this is where I rediscovered the power of the walk. And even more so, the power of letting your mind wander aimlessly.

Each time I walked up the road and back, I returned with some new insight. Some tiny detail to add to the fabric of the prose. An interesting sentence. A snippet of dialogue. A plot flaw revealed. The place where I could add some emotional depth or further characterisation. Magic.

The manuscript is now "complete". And today I am going to send it to my publisher. Deep breath. Fingers crossed. Wish me luck.

Sue Lawson: on influences – or of Shakespeare and British Blue Cats

Sue Lawson and I started our writing careers at roughly the same time, and it seems that over the last dozen or so years our paths keep on crossing, and we have become buddies as well as colleagues. So it is my great pleasure to welcome her to my blog today where she will be discussing her latest release, Pan's Whisper, and the things that influenced her in the writing of this poignant novel.

Over to Sue.

Sue, thank you so much for inviting me to visit your blog to chat about Pan’s Whisper.

I thought it would be interesting to talk about influences, as I’ve been asked and know most writers are asked how much of our work is autobiographical. 

I guess for me the simple answer is not much is directly from my life – though I did have a pet chook when I was about 12 (Tessa), I grew up on a wool property (After) and my grandfather did die aboard the Montevideo Maru (Finding Darcy). Rather than being stories about me or my life, my books are influenced by my experiences and the questions that these raise.

Pan’s Whisper was sparked by a conversation with my younger sister about an event from our childhood, which both of us remembered differently – she recalled it with fondness, while I remember it was an uncomfortable experience. Strange thing is I can’t remember the details of the discussion now, just the question it sparked – why do two people have such different memories of the same event?

Once I start writing it’s inevitable that important influences in my life slip into a story. In Pan’s Whisper two of my great loves are featured – Shakespeare and Smocker (pronounced Smocker as is soccer).

From the moment our English teacher, Mr Samuel, started reading Romeo and Juliet to our class, Shakespeare’s language, humour, tragedy and unforgettable characters had me hooked. So that influence is obvious. But what about Smocker?

One of my early memories as a child was an ABC radio program we used to listen to on Saturday morning, called I Smocker. (Before you right me off as ANCIENT – we did have TV, but ABC radio ruled our home.) Smocker, written by Eugene Lumber, was the story of a British Blue cat who lived with Patrick the Irish terrier next door to Nasty Neighbour Norton. It was hilarious! I can remember my complete joy when I received the two books, I Smocker and Smocker Takes Off for Christmas.

Sue's fat ginger tom, Smocker

So great was my love for Smocker that I named my first pet, a HUGE ginger tom, after him.  My Smocker was every bit as unique as Eugene Lumber’s Smocker, though not quite as mischievous. (Or well bred – he was a moggy!)

When I was writing Pan’s Whisper, I wanted somewhere for Pan to keep her treasures and it had to be something that also gave her comfort. A tin or box would be too hard and cold. While trawling the internet, I stumbled upon a picture of a pyjama holder from the 80s and knew I was onto something. The moment I decided the holder had to be a cat, I knew its name was Smocker.

Sue's rabbit pyjama holder she found on Etsy that sparked the idea

Thanks so much for having me Sue.

All good things must come to an end, particularly this close to Christmas, and thus the Pan’s Whisper Blog Tour ends tomorrow at http://cherrybananasplit.blogspot.com

Hope to see you there!

All the best for the success of Pan's Whisper, Sue.