Notes from the Slushpile is a team blog maintained by eight friends who also happen to be children's authors at different stages of the publishing journey.
A note from Candy:Slushpile readers no doubt are marvelling at the sudden rise of activity here on our previously somnambulant blog. Yes, dear reader, we're trying to liven up this unreliable blog (we only blogged 11 times last year). How to do this? Why, find someone more reliable than us to blog of course!
Ladies and gents, please welcome the latest member of Notes from the Slushpile, Nick Cross!
Nick is a winner of the Undiscovered Voices and has written short stories for Stew Magazine. He also blogs (somewhat reliably) on Who Ate My Brain and much more reliably for Words & Pictures, SCBWI's online magazine, for which he is Blog Network Co-ordinator. Here is his first Slushie appearance.
Welcome, Nick!
Thanks, Candy - it's an honour to join the team. My favourite slushie is blue raspberry flavour, but I'll try not to get brain freeze as I launch into my debut post:
Appearing at the Cannes Film Festival last month to promote his 50th movie, Woody Allen briefly discussed the TV series he’s making for Amazon Prime Video. Although he’s no stranger to angst, Woody seemed to be genuinely worried that he’d got in over his head this time – he described the decision to take the commission as a “catastrophic mistake” and predicted the show would be a “cosmic embarrassment.”
(photo by Colin Swan)
Seventy-nine-year-old Allen is famously technophobic – he still uses a typewriter for all his scripts and only adopted the use of stereo sound for his films in 2007 (some 70 years after the rest of the movie industry). He didn’t know who Amazon was until very recently and admits to not understanding how streaming video works. The odds would seem to be stacked against him.
And yet, I’m going to make a wild prediction:
I think that these six half hour TV episodes will be the best thing that Woody Allen has written or directed in years
For too long, Woody Allen has been trapped in a comfortable creative prison of his own making. With no apparent trouble securing funding, he churns out one underwhelming film per year, then moves onto the next without pausing for breath. Occasionally (such as with 2013's Blue Jasmine) he comes up with something halfway interesting, but most of the time it feels like he's rehashing his greatest hits.
It’s my belief that art made entirely within an artist’s comfort zone is at best familiar, and at worst deeply mediocre. In order to achieve something new and surprising, we need to perch on the edge of our comfort zone and work from there. This is not something I’m very good at myself – I prefer the familiarity of routine and writing about subjects that come easily to hand. So, I hope the following activities will give both you and me (and possibly Woody Allen) a nudge in the right direction.
1. Write What You Hate
A great way to stretch yourself is to pick a style or genre that you dislike and try to make it yours. For instance, in the days before Game of Thrones conquered television, I used to hate high fantasy stories. I hated the massive books, the pages of maps at the front and the predictable storylines about lunkheaded male heroes, magical jewels and dragons. So, for my first Stew Magazine short story Princess of Dirt, I felt compelled to find a new feminist angle on the traditional fantasy narrative and subvert as many of the reader’s expectations as I could.
(illustration by Jayde Perkin)
2. Don’t be Afraid to Upset People
The aforementioned Princess of Dirt had a horrifying ending that stretched the reader’s sympathies to breaking point. It upset a lot of people (including my own children), but from an artistic point of view, I’m glad I did it. More recently, I’ve written children's stories about such cheery subjects as child labour, Armageddon and Ebola, and I’ve just finished one about immigration and bigotry that won’t be a big hit with UKIP supporters.
Many writers are, like I once was, far too eager to please. They want readers, other writers and - most especially - agents and publishers to love everything they do. So they bend towards the market, edit out the uncomfortable and change things that were fine to start with.
I had a weird experience recently when I was unexpectedly introduced to an agent. She asked me what I was working on and, despite being caught off-guard, I managed to give her a fairly good pitch for my book. Unlike some of my other work, it’s a pretty uncontroversial middle-grade humour novel. To my surprise, a look of genuine disgust passed over her face. I had a moment of crisis, followed by sudden clarity – it didn’t matter if this woman didn’t like the idea behind my book, because there were plenty of others who would.
3. Don’t be Afraid to Upset Yourself
The strongest writing comes from the things you feel strongest about. Sometimes, these are positive emotions, but they can also be your darkest memories or fears. When you reach down into the dark places, yet also exercise control in your writing, you can make some amazingly powerful things happen.
4. Change Your Technique
Stepping out of your comfort zone isn’t just about challenging what you do, but also how you do it. If you’re a plotter, try pantsing. If you normally fly by the seat of your pants, try plotting whole sections before you write. It will feel wrong - like putting your trousers on backwards – but you may gain a whole new technique for your writer’s toolbox.
(photo by Per Erik Strandberg)
5. Change Your Audience
Some writers are very eclectic about the kinds of age group and genre they write for, while others find one that suits them and stick with it. I’m definitely in the latter group and find myself drawn to middle grade fiction. I will tell myself that this is because I variously find: picture and early chapter books too restrictive, YA too angsty and adult fiction too pretentious. But these broad rationalisations are also keeping me firmly in my 9-12 comfort zone.
Writing for a different audience requires research, different stylistic choices and lots of trial and error. But who’s to say it wouldn’t also be fun, or lead to an entirely different writing career?
6. Make Catastrophic Mistakes
OK, so I’m channelling Woody Allen with the wording of this one. And obviously, you can’t plan to make a mistake. “Nobody ever set out to make a bad movie” as the film industry mantra goes. But you can plan for how you’ll cope when things go horribly wrong with your writing and how you’ll learn from that.
To quote another mantra, this time from the technology startup sector: “Fail early. Fail often.”
7. Keep Pushing Through to the Other Side
I write blog posts all the time, but this has been a particularly tough one. Yet, I’ve kept going and we’re nearly at the end (I promise!) It’s hard to acknowledge that you need to change, especially when it seems that you’ve only just become comfortable in your writing. It’s even harder to push that change through, while confronting the things that scare you. To achieve all this, you'll need flexibility, drive, bravery and tenacity. Luckily, these are also the same attributes that are needed to make it as a professional writer!
Don’t feel that you have to change everything at once, or move so far out of your comfort zone that you don’t know which way is up. Like Woody Allen, maybe all you need is the right challenge to push you into the unknown.
A note from Candy:I was truly wowed by the last book I read by Nicky Singer - Knight Crew, a retelling of the Arthur-Guinevere romance set in a gritty council estate and populated by heart-breaking teenagers. When Knight Crew came out, Nicky actively urged readers not to buy the book from Amazon. Last week I stumbled on Nicky's Kickstarter campaign to publish her play,Island, as a novel. I backed it right away, of course. I invited Nicky to tell us the story behind the Kickstarter - yes, selfishly, I'm hoping this will persuade everyone else to back the book - I WANT TO READ THAT BOOK. But it won't be published unless more people know about its potential brilliance. What led Nicky, an accomplished, award-winning author, to seeking this alternative route to publication is a testament to the blistering changes that have transformed Publishing. Support Nicky's Kickstarter Campaign here.
By Nicky Singer
My new novel Island is, apparently, a ‘quiet’ book.
In its previous incarnation, as a play at the National Theatre, it was quite a noisy thing. It played to sell-out audiences in the Cottesloe, did a thirty-school London tour and enjoyed a raft of four-star reviews.
From Island, the National Theatre Production. Photo: Clare Park
This is what the Independent said about it:
The National Theatre’s terrific new play for over-eights is set on what we call Herschel Island in Northern Canada (the Inuit have another, much older name for it). The one-hour play explores the impact of global warming – think Frozen Planet brought to life for children with characters the audience identify with and care about. Island explores the conflict between scientific and metaphysical truth, colonialism, the exploitation of other people’s environment, the role of religion and the power of storytelling. So it isn’t short of issues for children to think about afterwards, but at the same time it avoids any sense of worthiness and stands up well as a piece of compelling, moving drama.
I never planned to re-write it as a novel but I failed to factor in the speed of the melting ice-caps.
The book is set in Herschel Island in Northern Canada. Photo: Cameron Eckert
Five people rang me up in the same week: our young people need that story more than ever, they said. Don't you understand? They have to have the chance to engage with what’s going on in the arctic. Do it. Do it now!
So I did. And I fell in love with my characters (a grumpy Western boy, a local island girl, an ice bear) all over again.
I liked the extra space in the book. My day-job is as a novelist. I believed I made a pretty good fist of the re-write. In fact, I rather thought the last 100 pages were some of the best I’d ever written.
My long-term publisher disagreed. ‘It’s too quiet,’ they said, ‘for the current market’. I’m not sure this particular publishing term has made the OED yet but, roughly translated, I think it means: ‘this book will not make a shed-load of money’. Leaving aside the fact that, if publishers really knew what makes a shed-load of money, eight of them wouldn’t have turned down Harry Potter, I think, in Island’s case, they are probably right.
From Island, the National Theatre Production. Photo: Clare Park
Island is not a fast-paced Boys Own Adventure Story (this is apparently the current market approved fad) but an adventure of a rather different kind – one that takes you (like the Inuit) travelling in dreams. Besides, being quiet isn’t Island’s only sin. It is also, apparently, ‘too literary’ for the current climate. We’ll come back to that.
But let’s start with the money.
When I published my first novel (an adult title To Still the Child ) in 1992, I met my editor, and also the Managing Director of the company. These were the people in charge. If the company had a publicist I didn’t meet him/her. I didn’t meet anyone from sales.
Nowadays, it’s all rather different. Small teams of editorial staff have to ‘pitch’ ideas to the marketing people. Lots and lots and LOTS of marketing people. Then the marketing people decide whether the title will – or won’t - make a Shed-Load of Money. For publishing is no longer some Gentlepersons Club full of bookish folk. Of course not. It’s a Global Business. So – fair enough about the money. Right? Well – yes and no.
As Ursula Le Guin put it, in her blistering address to the US National Book Awards last year there is a difference between ‘the production of a market commodity and the practice of an art’. She goes on to wonder at us – the writers and creators - ‘who let profiteers sell us like deodorant and tell us what to publish and what to write’. She finishes by demanding, not shed-loads of money – but freedom.
There is a difference between the production of a market commodity and the practice of an art
What might this freedom look like for someone like me? To be able to publish a powerful, meaningful story in powerful, meaningful language. For young people. Yes – young people. ‘Too literary’ you see, appears to mean the language I use is (to use current publishing jargon) a little ‘tricky’ for these apparently lesser mortals.
I’ll give you an example. I was asked to take the word ‘bonnet’ out of my last novel, The Flask, on the basis that no self-respecting 12 year old would know such a word. The publisher was unmoved by my assertion that, at the same age, I was required to be able to spell and define words like ‘sinecure’.
Does this matter? I think so. Robert MacFarlane has just written a whole book – the wonderful Landmarks - about what the fading away of nature words means to our appreciation and understanding of the natural world. Because, quite simply, we think in language. It there isn’t a word for something, or that word is not in our vocabulary, it impairs our ability to know - and also to communicate. And no, Beatrix Potter would not get away with soporific today. She might even have trouble with lettuce.
So what do you do when you book is too quiet and too literary for your long-term publisher?
Try a new publisher, of course.
Only that’s not quite so simple these days either. Because of Branding. Yes – how is New Publisher to position you in the market if you are so closely associated with Old Publisher? Branding costs, you see. Shed-Loads of Money. And this book, although it’s a great book and beautifully written (we did mention that, didn’t we?) is just a little too quiet for the market right now.
This is the juncture when your agent is running out of patience and you are running out of cornflakes.
From Island, the National Theatre Production. Photo: Clare Park
It seemed to me that I had three options: 1) lie down and die (only I’m not very good at that) 2) lie down and die (I seriously considered it) 3) put up or shut up.
I decided on 3) and began exploring crowdfunding platforms. Crowdfunding is not to be confused with vanity publishing – although many people do confuse them.
Crowdfunding is actually more akin to eighteenth century subscription publishing. Vis you would find out how many friends and family wanted to buy your new collection of poetry, ask for money upfront and print the relevant number of copies. Only now – with the internet, the concept has the potential (emphasise potential) for global reach.
Enter Kickstarter. One of several on-line platforms where you can hawk your creative wares.
I did some homework (not least with a friend of mine who raised £10,000 to make a film about the plight of illegitimate children in Morocco which the BBC had turned down) and, just over a week ago, launched my first Kickstarter campaign.
Nicky Singer Photo by Michael Thorne/Achuka
The experience has been hideous and exhilarating in equal measure.
THE HIDEOUS THINGS
Feeling a failure. Because good books (and – some - really good books) are still conventionally published. If Island was really good, quiet or not, they would have published it – wouldn’t they?
Feeling let down by my publisher (who I really like) and feeling that I was letting down my (top flight) agent (who I really like).
Having to self-promote. Talk oneself up. Puff oneself. Again and again and again. I’m probably more naturally bullish than the average Brit. But even so. It’s humiliating.
Asking people for money. Ditto.
Giving five months of my life to things I’m no good at eg mailchimping/box filling/video making.
Giving five months of my life to anything that isn’t actually writing.
Having to get to grips with technology, in particular social media.
The fact that, even if I reach my target, I will not be paid. Not for writing the book. Not for running the campaign. The money will simply cover production and distribution costs.
THE EXHILARATING THINGS
Having to get to grips with technology – especially having to update my website and make it mobile friendly (note to other writers: Google is in the process of refusing to support – ie list – non-mobile friendly sites. Get to it! I can recommend fantastic, affordable web-designer for same.)
The incredible generosity and support of my friends and family.
The first time a total stranger pledged on Kickstarter and told me why.
The day that legendary writer Geraldine McCaughrean (The White Darkness is a long-term favourite of mine) lent personal support with an unasked-for donation.
The fact that, thanks to Kickstarter (supposing I reach my target) I will be sending books not just to the UK but to Canada (the home of the story) and America and Holland.
The real sense of community around the issues of the Arctic and children’s literature.
Being offered jobs! A composer getting in touch to invite me to speak on a panel, a dance organisation asking me to share in a creative project.
The sense of power. Taking control of the means of production. Putting my money where my mouth is.
The sense of relief. I can never really move on to a new project if there’s an old one still in my in-tray. Or brain.
This is the first time I’ve laid this out as a list. Looks like – on balance – the good outweighs the evil on all fronts. Except the money one. How artists make a living in ‘the current climate’ – well, perhaps someone else would like to blog about that.
Meanwhile - would I do it again? Well, there’s still a long way to go in this campaign before I know the answer to that. The way Kickstarter works is that no money is paid out unless the project realises 100% of the target amount.
In a just over a week I’ve raised slightly shy of £2,500. That’s pretty humbling. On the other hand, this is the ‘easy money’ (those incredibly supportive friends).
For the crucial additional £3,000 I need to reach out and touch the wider community. People I don’t actually know. People prepared to take risks. People who Venn diagram caring about the planet with caring about literature for young people.
I know they exist. Perhaps one of them is you? In which case, thank you. Thank you if you donate. Thank you if you just pass the message on. Especially if you do Twitter well. Which I don’t. I have about 130 followers of whom at least two seem to be porn stars…
Thomas Sangster starring in BBC
production of Feather Boy
If we do meet the target, the physical production of the book will be overseen by Charles Boyle of the award-winning – but tiny – independent press cbEditions. He wants me to come up with an imprint name and I was going to choose ‘Firebird Books’ – partly because the firebird story was so important in my book Feather Boy and partly because it suggests rising from the ashes.
But I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to call it Slow Books. Like Slow Food, and even Slow TV now, Slow Books will be about those quiet, deep things beneath the current market shout of the world. And I have this quiet dream that, one day, Slow Books will gather together writers from all over the world with such stories to tell. And then, maybe, there will be whole shelves of Slow Books. And people who care about such things will walk past the glittery branded covers knowing that, on the Slow Books shelf, they will find something worth dreaming about.
On 9 April, I guested on the vociferous #UKMGchat, a twitter chat group devoted to middle grade in the United Kingdom. Here's a recap of our night of tweeting (you might have to wait for the embedded tweet images to show up):
Tonight @candygourlay will be talking about DUAL NARRATIVE for #ukmgchat. We have a small number of questions. Not many at all.
— Wise Miriam (@miriamhcraig) April 9, 2015
@candygourlay@miriamhcraig They're not sinister! Merely keen and over excitable. I *may* be writing a dual narrative myself...
— Lorraine Gregory (@authorontheedge) April 9, 2015
I didn't spot this question so I will answer this here - a dual narrative only works if the reader wants to read both stories. I have read dual books and skipped one voice because I didn't see the point of the other. There has to be a point to using the dual narrative structure.
@candygourlay Were agents or editors reluctant about your use of a dual narrative? Did it put anyone off? #ukmgchat
— Lorraine Gregory (@authorontheedge) April 9, 2015
Agents and editors had no problem about it. I have since talked to children who tell me how theyhad to get their heads around it.
@candygourlay Hello. How do you structure your dual narrative? Is it alternate chapter or in each section? Thanks #ukmgchat
— Jill Kathryn Wilson (@JillKWilson) April 9, 2015
I liked how the minor historical narrative in Holes, paces itself so that every reveal adds to the frisson of the other story.
Does 2 alternating POV characters count as dual narrative or is it only two different time frames/locations? #ukmgchat
— Peter Bunzl (@peterbunzl) April 9, 2015
Both are DN @peterbunzl#ukmgchat In Tall Story I alternate voices. In A GAthering Light, the two voices are of one char, but from two times
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
Tall Story is a culture clash novel and so the form was perfect for juxtaposing the two cultures of my heroes. @JenniferKillick
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
But DN is not just alternating viewpoints. It's also about playing with time, interspersing dual storylines #ukmgchat
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
Mistake: having a weaker voice alongside a strong voice. There's no pt doing it unless voices are distinctive @authorontheedge#ukmgchat
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
I think because it's about viewpoint, if in third, it's got to be close third @ElenCaldecott#ukmgchat
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
It depends on what sort of DN you're doing. Remember A Gathering Light? She wrote it in present and past tense @autho#ukmgchat
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
Although I don't think the independent stories that weave through Shine count as part of a multiple narrative because they are only small components of one storyline and do not carry on through out the book.
Melvin Burgess critted Tall Story early on and told me to write their names in big letters on each chapter. @miriamhcraig#ukmgchat
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
Keep writing until your character comes alive. Once alive, throw the rest away @CrackerHackerJM#ukmgchat It's all about character
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
I really do write like that. I keep writing crap until the characters develop their own wills and hearts @CrackerHackerJM#ukmgchat
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
The narratives and the voices have to be distinct in your mind from the beginning. If there's any doubt dontdo DN @LibWithAttitude#ukmgchat
— Candy Gourlay (@candygourlay) April 9, 2015
