Dig, write, bake
Approximately-weekly news, #80
Friends, I am writing this as hail hammers on the roof of the studio. I would be worried about the daffodils, had they not been comprehensively trampled by a certain greyhound of our acquaintance.
Oh, and it seems that Digging Season is upon us again. weeps
Harris is denying all knowledge. He claims he was asleep at the time.*
Here he is, as I type:
Are we convinced of his innocence?
Since last week I have mostly been writing. Have I mentioned before that writing is the Best Thing?** I’m well through the first draft of the new book, and it’s doing the thing that I love most: it’s throwing out tendrils as I write. It’s as though I’ve made a frame and now the plant is growing, stretching in the sun, making something that feels true.
As you can tell, I’m feeling a bit poetical about it all. This is the part in the writing process when I am in love with a book, and it’s really blissful. It comes at a different point in every book, and it lasts for varying amounts of time.
It’s really important that it doesn’t last forever: gazing adoringly at one’s own words does not a readable novel make.
Later, I will be calling forth my inner drama-teacher-who-has-staked-their-career-on-this-being-the-best-production-of-Joseph-ever-to-take-place-in-a-school-hall. Their role will be to tell me I need to dig deep and do better and if I am honest with myself I know I have more to give, and now’s the time to give it.*** She is always right, and never quite satisfied. Maybe this time.
Update for writers: waiting lists are open for manuscript assessments, developmental edits, and mentoring. Take a look here and then drop me an email (or reply to this one) and we can talk about your writing and how (and when) I could help.
Now that Loveday has merch in the Lost For Words bookshop, I am thinking of offering it too. I’ve found a provider; I’m now wondering whether this is something that readers of my bookshop books would like. Hold on to your hats, I’m going to attempt a poll:
This week’s permission:
You have permission to change your mind. Yes, even about that.
I have been baking:
This is Edd Kimber’s marble loaf cake, which I made in a square tin. (I went a bit rogue on the icing.) It’s absolutely delicious, and from this book, which I commend to you.
I’ve also made the chocolate sorbet; we haven’t tried it yet, so I’ll report back. I also have Plans for the chocolate whipped caramel cake and the pistachio tiramisu.
I have just read a novel for older children and every single person I’ve mentioned it to have made a sort of ‘ooooh’ noise. And so I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s one of those books, like ‘A Greengage Summer’ by Rumer Godden, that was cruelly kept secret from me for Reasons.****
It’s ‘The Eagle of the Ninth’ by Rosemary Sutcliff. An adventure story set in Roman Britain, it was first published in 1954 (yes, I too am puzzled by the ‘centenary’ on the cover). It. Is. Wonderful. Please, read it, or give it to a young human who might enjoy it.
And also, please tell me what the other books are that I have missed out on.*****
Thank you, and be well,
Stephanie x
*to be fair, he is asleep at the time of most things, so there’s a certain amount of plausible deniability.
**Yes, Stephanie. Yes, you have.
***Tell me I’m not the only one with an inner drama teacher.
****I don’t think this. But if I was very tired or very hungry then I might.
*****What do you mean, that’s impossible?
So glad you have found Rosemary Sutcliff. I read it as a child and it was hugely important, because growing up in Carlisle our Roman Heritage was what we had to be proud of, so I thought of it almost as family history. I'm always astonished other people haven't read it, perhaps it was in every school library in Carlisle! Coming back to it as an adult I was shocked by how little of the book actually takes place in the north. Anyway if you like that you will like her other stuff too; as an adult I discovered her retellings of Odyssey and Iliad which are also wonderful. A really interesting life she led, too...
Writing as blissful? I suppose I can be, but at the moment, that's years ago now, or was it another century? But, I have finally, finally, finally sent off the manuscript to the publisher. I don't know whether to be elated or throw up. I am so afraid I've made some boo-boo now that can't be corrected with incurring big costs. Maybe I should take a leaf out of Harris's book and go and have a nap.