Guest Post by Alison Pick

I'm delighted to introduce author, Alison Pick, to my blog.  Alison is the author of acclaimed new novel Far to Go, a beautifully written account of a Jewish family living in Czechoslovakia just before World War II, whose existence is threatened with the arrival of German forces. 

I'll be posting a full review of the novel next week, but in the meantime Alison tells us about one of her favourite books ...

To ask a writer about her favourite book is like asking Old Mother Hubbard which of her many children she prefers. Which is to say, there is no single answer, or the answer changes from moment to moment, day to day. Still, though, it’s something I love to ask other people, with the understanding that tomorrow the answer will be different.

So. At the moment, the book I love the most, the one that is keeping me up at night, is called ‘Everything I Ate: A Year in the Life of my Mouth.’ It is a fairly straight-forward concept book in which the author, a photographer, took a picture of every single morsel he consumed over the course of an entire calendar. It seemed, on first glance, somewhat banal. As I started turning the pages, though, I realized it was in fact incredibly intimate. Food is deeply personal, we all know that, but to see these photographs laid out, mediated only by the barest amount of text, was like reading someone’s private diary.

I wanted to look away. I felt I should look away. But I just couldn’t.

For someone who spends their life immersed in Literature with a capital L, there was also a palpable relief in a book like this. It was a gift from my old publicist—another reason I love it—and I gather he felt the same. There is no investment. You don’t need to give yourself to this book, try the first chapter and see where it leads. Rather, it just takes you and won’t let you go.

Part of what makes this book fascinating is that the author’s eating habits are atrocious. From January to December there is nary a vegetable to be seen. A handful of green beans, the occasional salad at a restaurant or a friend’s home. Mostly, though, our hero eats cookies. And cupcakes. And grilled cheese, and burgers, and enough pizza to feed a small African nation. All of this is documented without the least trace of self-consciousness. On the contrary, I came away with a sense of the author’s true reverence for food. What we eat, he seems to imply, is who we are, and both are cause for celebration.

I don’t think it’s too much to say that this book will change the way you feel about food.

Warning: It will also make you hungry.

*I already am, Alison!

You can read more from Alison at She Reads Novels and she'll be stopping by The Book Club Forum tomorrow.

Thank you to Headline for my review copy

Murder in the aisles

I've been in Tesco's a lot lately. Not shopping. That's waaaaaay too boring.

No instead, I've given up a child for adoption, had a couple of affairs, abseiled down a mountain, murdered a woman on a cruise ship, talked a man out of killing himself, joined a mother and toddler group and made a scarecrow.

Okay, not literally. I've been hunched over my netbook in the cafe there, writing stories, fuelled by tea and cake. It's become an addiction. (Not the cake - that was already an addiction.)

In spite of the noise I seem much more focused than at home, where a starling darting past the window can distract me into cutting the grass, or a hint of cobweb can lure me into hoovering the curtains. Or opening an email can lead to hours on the interweb, laughing manically at a moonwalking hamster on You Tube.

I think the staff are puzzled. They slip round corner where I sit out of sight and sneak looks at me while wiping down tables. I make sure I buy a cauliflower or a chicken pasty or something when I've finished, to show I'm actually a perfectly normal housewife. The family still has to eat.

Anyway, they should be careful or they might end up in my next story, battered around the head with a courgette in the veg aisle.

Of course if I was ever invited to do one of those 'Writing Room' features in a magazine, it would look a bit odd. None of the ones I've ever seen has featured a scowling waiter and a dishcloth, or a man in a vest with a trolley filled entirely with beer.

The novel still has to be edited and I'm working on that too. In between mowing the grass, sucking up cobwebs and laughing at moonwalking hamsters.

Royal silliness

I've shamelessly pinched this idea from the lovely Sally Quilford - mainly as a distraction from the editing pit, and also as a nod to the upcoming royal nuptials.

"What's your royal wedding guest name? Start with either Lord or Lady. Your first name is one of your grandparents names. Your surname is the name of your first pet - double barrelled with the name of the street you grew up on."

Simples.

Mine would be Lady Ethel Bomber-Coniston.  Which is plain ridiculous.  Bomber was a budgie by the way.  Not a fashionable pet these days.

I think you get the drift.

Losing words

Well, the verdict is in on novel 2 and it's mostly very positive. BUT - there's editing to be done.

And there was me thinking it would be ready to publish by Monday ...

The main thing is, I need to lose around 100 pages to increase the pace - which is easier said than done. I've tried shoving them down the back of the radiator, setting them alight in the garden, fashioning them into origami swans, sliding them under the mattress and taking an axe to the buggers, but the last time I looked they were - well, surprisingly they were still there.

I suppose that means I'm going to have to do it the hard way. By actually writing - or should that be rewriting? Obviously it's not as simple as lopping a few chapters off the end - the dynamic of the story will change with every word that's cut, affecting all the words that follow.

Obviously.

Which means I'd better stop messing about and get to it - those pages aren't going to magically vanish. Which is kind of ironic when you consider my story is about a witch.

Wish me luck. I may be some time.

All change

I've decided to update my blog and have included a short story page if you'd like a peek. I may post a new one now and again on a whim - depending which way the wind's blowing, and whether or not there's an i in the month.

Okay, okay I'm procrastinating - still waiting for feedback on novel 2 and wondering if novel 3 is the one I should be writing, or whether I should go back to the novel that was going to be novel 2 before the original novel 3 became novel 2.

Confused? I know I am.


Meanwhile I was lucky enough to meet up with a group of fellow writers on a lovely, sunny day in Peterborough last week, and it was amazing how many times over lunch we all blurted, "there's GOT to be a story in that!"

Once you're in the zone it's quite easy to imagine fictioning up the most mundane situation. When I popped to the Ladies to powder my nose at Marylebone station, and noticed a woman caught trying to leap the turnstile rather than pay thirty pee for a pee, part of my addled brain was thinking, hmmmm - there's GOT to be a story in that.

The thing is ... would anyone want to read it?

An award and 7 things

Two lovely and talented lady-writers, Lydia and Teresa Ashby have gone a little bit mad and bestowed this handsome award upon me - which is nice.

The rules state I have to tell you 7 things about myself, but I've bored you all senseless in that department in previous posts, so instead I'll list 7 things that are on my desk that have nothing to do with writing.

1. A half-empty packet of digestive biscuits. Can't think who ate them, but it couldn't possibly have been me.

2. My lucky mascot, Quackers. My grandma knitted him years ago, and seeing him reminds me of her. (Not that she looked like that I hasten to add.)


3) A tube of effervescent (love that word) vitamin C tablets and a carton of cranberry juice, both my husband's. He's on a bit of a health kick. Unlike me.

4) A mangled, half-chewed biro I rescued from the dog, which she obviously mistook for a rat.

5) A silver sharpener I used earlier for my eyeliner pencil.

6) A copy of Grazia magazine. So I can plan my summer wardrobe dahlings.

7) A crumpled contact lens and a Penny Red stamp lying rather poignantly side by side. My husband's a collector of the latter and the first is the reason I can only see properly out of one eye at the moment.

Looking back at that list, I'm slightly ashamed and will be doing a spot of tidying forthwith.

Keeping Quiet

Yesterday at work we were discussing the weekly coffee mornings at the library, and I was asked if I'd be interested in giving a talk about being a writer.

Inside my head this happened ...


On the surface I smiled pleasantly, though my first instinct was to scream NO! I once gave a 'best man's' speech at a friend's wedding years ago, and have never been so close to vomiting and fainting all at the same time, even though it went quite well in the end.

I hate that feeling. I'll shake, my voice will shake, I'll go red and the audience will know I'm nervous and feel nervous for me. However, IF I ever get published *cough, in this country, cough* I might be expected to give a talk here and there, so I figured it could be a good way for me to cut my teeth. Who would these people at the coffee morning be, I queried.

"Oh you know a few old dears, some mums, people wanting to support the library, that kind of thing. There's one old man who likes to come in for a cup of tea and a sleep."

I said I'd think about it. And then I said no. Because I'll only spend the next few weeks fretting about it and making myself feel ill otherwise.

Also, I feel like a fraud without an actual book I can hold up to prove I AM a writer. I can just picture the scepticism as Gladys demands to see my credentials, wanting tangible proof that I know what I'm wittering about.

Secondly, if it was people specifically turning up to hear someone talk about writing it might not be too bad, but it's not. Topics vary from week to week - from Medieval Chesham to finding a job online - but the audience remains the same. I'd only bore them rigid.

Thirdly ... well I suppose I'm a big ol' coward.

If I do ever get that publishing deal I expect it'll be a different story. I'll be begging them to let me give a talk about my 'journey'.

The problem will be shutting me up, but until then I'm keeping it zipped.

The Art of Relaxing

Does anyone else suffer from ET (Extreme Tension) while writing? I'm going to assume the answer is YES, otherwise it might mean I'm freakish.

Mine tends to travel around my body. Sometimes it's in my neck, others my back and at the moment it's all in my tummy. I'm not aware of it as I'm writing, it's only afterwards when I realise I can barely move/breathe/nod my head when somebody offers me cake.

Once it's got a grip of a particular area it stays for a while before moving on, like a grubby student on a gap-year. No matter how many stretches and deep breathing exercises I do before or after - or in between - those pesky muscles tense up the second I begin writing.

It can even get quite painful, but it's such a sub-conscious (unconscious?) thing I can't control it. So what to do?

Well, put up with it I suppose and keep doing the stretches. On the other hand someone's suggested a rather vigorous form of yoga - see above - that's supposed to keep the muscles loose and relaxed no matter what. Thing is I'm a tiny bit worried about snapping my arms or spraining my waist - which would be even more painful, obviously.

Plus I don't have time to learn how to wrap my knees round my throat. I'm too busy writing, see?

What do you do to relax?

Finito

I've finally finished the first draft of novel 2 and have emailed it to Lovely Agent.

Now the nail-biting, email-watching waiting begins again. If she doesn't like it I'll bloody shoot myself. Not really, but let's say I'm more realistic about the whole process this time round, and not quite as giddy with excitement as this time last year.

I'm going to miss my characters, though I'll no doubt be revisiting them in the edits. I've almost started to believe they were real.

I didn't realise there was an underlying theme to my story until I'd finished, which means I'm either a terrible writer or a wee bit simple, but nearly all my characters have dysfunctional parents which has affected their adult relationships.

It's nice to know there is a theme, and that it's not just a Very Silly Story - though it is that too of course.

Anyway, hello real world - I've missed you.

A bit.

This 'Ol House

I've noticed recently that in all my novel attempts so far there's been a recurring theme. Actually it's not a theme, it's a thing.

Houses. BIG houses. Stately homes, mansions, manor houses, country piles, the bigger the better.

It's quite bizarre for someone who was raised in a three bedroomed semi with one bathroom. Mind you we often traipsed round stately homes at the weekends, and I still quite like visiting them now.

Delusions of grandeur maybe? Not really. I'd actually hate to live in a house with a wing - or more than four bedooms. Apart from the cleaning I'd soon be convinced there were ghosts loitering round every corner waiting to bash my head in, or that a dangerous prisoner had escaped from a nearby lunatic asylum and moved into the attic, waiting to bash my head in. Or that the house was evil and about to start sprouting flies from the toilet bowl. In fact no film plot would be left unturned.

I suppose that's what it is really. Big houses make for good plots, though I might buck the trend in my next novel and have all my characters squished into a one-bedroomed flat in Barnet.

Do you have recurring Things cropping up in your writing?

Pluses and minuses

Minus - We're snowed in again, just as we were this time last year. It's knee-deep out there, and STILL Molly expects to be walked twice a day.

Plus - Our kitchen is ... drumroll ... finally finished. Only four months late. I hardly know what to do with all that space. Which is why I'm typing this instead of moving everything back in there.

Minus - We intended having a massive celebratory roast today (if I can remember how to cook)but only managed to buy a chicken before vehicles were abandoned to the snow yesterday - so that will be our dinner. Ah well, who needs veggies?

Plus - Am churning out a good amount for words for Novel 2 most days.

Minus - I'm still not going to meet my end-of-December deadline. Succumbed to a cold/cough/flu type virus a couple of weeks ago and, coupled with a last ditch attempt to find an available kitchen-fitter who wouldn't run screaming when he saw what a mess the last guy had left behind, I got sidetracked.

Plus - Finally had a story accepted by People's Friend. It became a personal challenge this year (I need to get out more) as they're quite fussy.

Minus - They can hang on to stories for years, so it may appear posthumously.

Plus - Finally wrestled the Christmas tree up, quite a bit later than usual.

Minus - Still haven't finished shopping. Or started, in some cases. What do you buy a 19-year old male who wants a million pounds and a Porsche?

Plus - I still have a lovely agent - it's been just over a year now - fighting my corner in the publishing world and trying to sell my novel.

Minus - It's been a huge learning curve. I now know that having an agent doesn't guarantee my novel will find a publisher.

Plus - There IS the German deal though. Better than nowt as my mum would say. And has said, several times.

And on that note ... have a wonderful Christmas if I don't see you before, and thank you for reading and commenting and being so supportive this year.

You're all marvellous.

Libraryitis

We're all a bit jittery at work. Meetings abound and it's not good news.

Smaller branches of the library will probably close next year, and even if they do stay open - run by volunteers as proposed - the existing staff will be out of work, at a time when unemployment is already high and rising.

We've tried many strategies to tempt in new users (is that the right word? Sounds a bit addict-y) but the truth is libraries aren't *cool*. Add to that terrible faux-pas the fact that books are cheap and everyone has knowledge at their fingertips in the form of the Internet and you may well ask, "What's the point of libraries?"

In fact somebody did - huddled at the back of the village hall in his puffa jacket. Words like 'community' and 'public service' were bandied about in response, but he didn't look convinced.

In the interests of answering this question I asked around friends and family and discovered that out of everyone, only my Mum uses her local library up in Scarborough. One friend worries about 'germs' so would no more borrow a book than run her hands round the rim of a public loo.

Another belongs to a book-swapping scheme, so doesn't need the library for reading purposes, and pays a small monthly fee to Love Film, which means she gets sent DVDs through the post that she can return at her leisure - "without paying a fine," she added pointedly.

My own children (sob) claim libraries are "a bit smelly and for old people" although I do bring home books and films for them every week whether they like it or not, which they do read and watch. But they no longer venture inside of their own free will.

In fact a lot of people I spoke to said they have fond memories of libraries; that they used to go a lot when they were younger, but don't any more - they just never think about it.

Somebody said they're not "relevant" in the modern world.

One or two said they're good for using the computer and printing stuff out, but they don't bother looking at the books.

Doesn't bode well does it?

What am I going to do with all my cardigans when I no longer work in a library??

Splashy Web-Thing

I'm happy to do my bit today in helping fellow blogger and writer Talli Roland's debut novel THE HATING GAME hit the Kindle bestseller list at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com

If you don't have a Kindle you can download a free app at Amazon for Mac, iPhone, PC, Android and more.

About THE HATING GAME:

When man-eater Mattie Johns agrees to star on a dating game show to save her ailing recruitment business, she's confident she'll sail through to the end without letting down the perma-guard she's perfected from years of her love 'em and leave 'em dating strategy. After all, what can go wrong with dating a few losers and hanging out long enough to pick up a juicy £2000,000 prize? Plenty, Mattie discovers, when it's revealed that the contestants are four of her very unhappy exes. Can Mattie confront her past to get the prize money she so desperately needs, or will her exes finally wreak their long-awaited revenge? And what about the ambitious TV producer whose career depends on stopping her from making it to the end?

It's coming soon in paperback and you can keep up with the latest at
http://www.talliroland.com/


I'm looking forward to reading my copy, and if I'm ever lucky enough to be published (*cough* in the UK *cough*) no doubt I'll be splashing about on the web too.

Good luck Talli.