Robin Hood's Bay on the Yorkshire Coast.

Enjoyed South Riding last night. We have such good actors here. The huts on the cliff top smack of Erosion. Marshlands could cut a bit of the padding. The 80's sequences are the best for me, the actors have the best lines and are more dramatic. The original couple have the most heartbreak. Excellent acting again all round.

Right. Work.

Rants

ooh. Yesterday's sounded a bit drastic and not good writing either! Just got back from a funeral and as these events can do, it reminded me of dad. It said some positive things though and was a celebration of a long fulfilling life, but seeing young and very old in tears is always affecting.
And the service sheet I was told was easy to do as the deceased knew what he wanted. Knowing what we want... Wanting what we know or have....is that happiness?
Bit of a tangent there. I'm rambling. It seemed clearer earlier. Funny when we think we have everything sussed and then the next minute it alludes us again.

I'm waiting for the car insurance to phone back. I've left emails earlier in the week, three phone messages this morning. I can only speak to this one guy. I know he's obviously busy but I did explain I'm due to go away this morning and can't shift the car off the drive until I sort this. My fault, but he is my broker. Petulant child coming out. How is the insurance on a £200 car so high? And working with anything remotely to do with film is a hands in the air, horrified face, 'oh no! we can't touch you, you're bound to be claiming every second.'
It's to and from work, not running around with Colin Farrell.
This is funny, not funny, every time I bring up a new subject, it turns to a rant. Better give up and sit still and stare at the phone. The car is packed ready to go. My daughter itching to use the computer, she's staying here as is her dad.
I'm off to do jobs on my mum's house....eek another rant? No, not this time. Yet.

Over filled
Over piled
What happens
When it slides
Down the sides
Because we can't take
Any more?

Responses

A P Watt have just responded to my email.
'...I make a point of letting people know about unsolicited submissions as soon as I can rather than letting them wait weeks to hear. I rejected it as it simply was not suitable for any of our agent's lists.'

I'm impressed, honestly, with the prompt reply and not wanting to keep writers waiting. That's good.
Neither 'Erosion' the contemporary novel about coastal erosion or 'Sweet Scent of Success' set in the 1920's world of perfume were suitable. Of course, there's more to it than that. I'm being simplistic.

Unsolicited. Ah, now that's a word to play with.

Maybe as some writers have found out, it's easier to secure a deal with a small publisher than with an agent. We'll see.

Reading formats and Agents

Two things.
First: The Kindle. This weekend I saw two adverts for the Kindle on TV. I asked my daughter if she'd use one. She said what is it? I explained. She said, 'That's cool. Yes, I could read easily on the train and in bed I'd just hold it in one hand. I'd probably read more.' I said, you won't get an illustrated cover with it and she said that doesn't matter, it's the story that counts...

Second: Agents. Last Monday, about four thirty in the afternoon I sent off about six packages to agents and small publishers. First class post.
On Wednesday morning, WEDNESDAY morning, I received a generic rejection slip from Marjacq. Usually it takes three to six months to hear back. Wow. Turn around, read and evaluated within one day. In the package I sent there was a cover letter, synopsis and three chapters each of Erosion and Sweet Scent of Success. I know, two different projects, but because they're so different I put them both in. All read and assessed within one day. Efficient.

On Friday, the same from A P Watt.

Do I praise these agencies for their speed and efficiency? Their websites said they were open to submissions.

And I'm thinking about the Kindle. Unless it breaks, it does seem like a good idea. I'll miss the cover of a book, but as in films, plays, novels...the story is the central element.
I think it means even less money for the author, but hey, that's not why we write is it?

The Creole Choir of Cuba - Desandann

'Desandann means Descendents. The choir tell stories of their Haitian ancestors who were brought to Cuba to work in near slave conditions in the sugar and coffee plantations. Their mesmerising sound, jubilant dancing and deep spirit made them a big hit at the Edinburgh Festival, then the London Jazz Festival, appeared on Jools Holland, now a sell out tour.
Irrestistible melodies are driven by richly textured harmonies and shifting Caribbean rhythms. This is impassioned singing by a group celebrating roots, resistance and the rhythms of life.'From the RNCM brochure.

Miranda and I went to see them at the RNCM last night.
We were bowled over. Miranda had just come back from New York early that morning and was beginning to feel jet lagged. She did not fall asleep. She was energised.
It was uplifting, enlightening, encompassing, energising, embracing...spiritual. We felt blessed. If there is a heaven, these people will be the angels singing. They were filled with generositiy and joy that spilled into the auditorium and had everyone on their feet.
We laughed when two female singers squashed the smaller male singer with their voluptuous bottoms, we cried when their harmonies blended into one soulful sound. When they sang the Nat King Cole song 'Unforgettable' standing close to one another as a thank you to us. To us? To US???? Their songs could not be bettered. One took the lead after the other, the rest swaying and dancing as they sang their interweaving melodies.
We were taken to another place, no egos, no holding back; only emotion on the surface going right through past the bones to whatever is inside us and giving us the privelege and the joy of being embraced by it.
The sound was deep, rich and full of range. The movements telling stories, relaxed and rounded, and when they left the auditiorium, singing all the way, shaking hands with whoever they could reach and who wanted to be reached, Miranda and I cried.
We laughed and cried, crying not because we were sad but because we'd been opened up.
Thank you Creole Choir of Cuba - Desandann...
If you see they are appearing near you - do yourself a massive favour, treat yourself, this is something no-one should miss.
Tande-la is out now on Real World CDs.

Time and place

'...I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.'
Emily Bronte.

This is the last paragraph of 'Wuthering Heights.'

This is what I'm aiming to capture in 'Erosion.' A sense of place. My father is buried in a graveyard on the edge of the moor on the top side of Haworth. Moths fluttering over the heather and the soft wind blowing through the coarse grass is what you see and hear up there. And you do feel at peace.
I want to capture the vast sky and grey sea and the thick reedy grass and the wiry heather. I want to capture what Yorkshire is as Emily Bronte does. I see and feel it so let's see if I can put it down on paper.

Andalucia

This time last year I was in Spain researching 'Sweet Scent of Success.' It was freezing. There was the first snow in Cordoba they'd had for a long, long time. Just flakes, very pretty, very cold.
It seems a long time ago. A lot has happened since then. Cordoba, Adalucia, is a stunning place. On the Saturday of that week I went to Jerez de la Frontera where the Estevez family is from. Saw the Estevez sherry bodega. I don't think it's the Estevez plantation of my ancestors, but it was a fantastic experience. What stayed with me the most was the sense of humour of the people there and the smell of sherry soaked wood.
Jerez is bonkers. The people are bonkers. Cadiz held its festival that weekend and everywhere people dressed in fancy clothes.
It was a wonderful week. A crazy week with the people, the buildings, the Mezzquita, the train journies,conversations, food, glorious prawns and fino. The best. Plate after plate - glass after glass.
And walking round an art gallery that was almost deserted. One rainy day being chatted up in spanish by a curator in the Architectural Museum. They were certainly bored that day. Green mossy stone.
Winding alleyways. Adandoned scooters. Graffiti. Orange trees. The wide, wide milky coffee river. Strolling, growing to feel at home.

Mothers and the Menopause

There seem to be a spate of articles around about the menopause. At the moment I seem to be hearing or reading about things that have connections with 'Meeting Coty' as this does.
When I was writing the book I never consciously thought about certain things but amazingly they are there. Take Tessa's mother, Ann Laughlin.
She shows classic signs of the menopause that I didn't know I'd put in never mind that they are symptoms.
She hides herself away from the children.
I didn't realise that when oestrogen levels go down and women stop menstruating, then the 'caring gene' goes because, not having young children (though many women may) it is not deemed necessary. Now this is going back in time because many women now do have their children later in life. So, it's unfortunate.

Are our genes taking care of us through the stages in our lives?

We need to be caring to bring up children.

In general at the stage of the menopause, children have become adults and can take care of themselves, so the mother is now free to do what she wants. By taking the 'caring gene' away, she can concentrate, without forcing herself, on herself.

On the other hand, women of this age now often find that an elderly relative needs caring for so this 'caring gene' would be very handy to retain, but nature takes it away. Bit of a dilemma there then. Forced to care.

But, going back to 'Meeting Coty' Ann shows all the signs of the Menopause, even more in 'Sweet Scent of Success.' Yes, this is the new title. Think I'll stick with this, though must google it to see if it's been used before. Next job.

Back to Ann and the menopause. I keep digressing. Is this a sign? In 'Meeting Coty' she hates being with the children, has no time for them, yearns to be back in Jerez, free to do what she wants: sing. In Sweet Scent of Success that is exactly what she's doing. So, when Tessa turns up for a visit, she is not exactly happy.

LIBRARIES

Thinking of the times I've spent in Libraries. As a child I remember my father taking my elder sister and I to Guiseley Library. Mostly I remember going in the dark in the evening but memories are strange the way we remember some things and not others. It isn't big. I loved it because of the books. I took out one called "Ballet for Drina.' And later when I wanted to re-read it I could never find it. I couldn't remember the author (Jean Estoril) and only remembered 'Drina' from the title. How could I forget it?
Anyway, found it years later in a little bookshop. I bought it.

I now live in South Manchester and our library like most now has computers and events. For those who don't have computers at home it's necessary. Many feel intimidated by internet cafes or phone shops where you can go on-line. People need computers to find basics like jobs.

And for parents with little ones they want to encourage to read and explore the world and socialise and learn how to behave in public spaces, these are invaluable. A life line for sanity sometimes on winter long afternoons. Any time.

and then the events - art shows, book readings, festival events. The community is invited in and many, many respond. It's a levelling ground. Anyone can go to any event here. Anyone.
Isn't that what this is supposed to be about. 'We're all in it together.'

Now Woodlands.... What were parks called, 'The lungs of the City?'

So, forests and woods....the lungs of the Country?