Hampstead Authors' Society No. 67 Issue 11 Nov 2007
Babette’s Feast - Happiness and the Good Life
HASTalk by Philosopher Anja Steinbauer
Followed by the Oscar-winning Film Metaphor Classic
Who should I be? What should my life be like? – Can there be any universal answers to these questions? The ancient Greek philosophers thought so. They believed that to make the most of our humanity would lead to a happy and fulfilled life. Is this true and what does it mean?
18th November, Sunday 12:45 for 13:00 |
Wonder Boys – Writing a First Novel
HASTalk by Writer Louise Doughty
Writing a First Novel - how much advice should a new writer take?
Do established writers have a duty to help and advise new writers up the greasy pole behind them? When Louise Doughty wrote a how-to-write column for a national newspaper, she was astonished at the hostility she received from other published writers, many of whom seemed less than keen on having newcomers in their dating pool. Her columns are now collected in A Novel in a Year, where she talks plainly about how a new writer can get started on their first novel.
Wonder Boys (dir. Curtis Hanson, 2000) is based on Michael Chabon's novel about an ageing novelist with writer's block, played by Michael Douglas, and his gifted young student, Tobey Maguire.
Louise Doughty is the author of five novels, five plays for radio, and one work of non-fiction, 'A Novel in a Year'. She has also worked widely as a literary journalist and broadcaster and currently writes a column about the life of the writer for the Daily Telegraph's Saturday Review.
www.louisedoughty.com
9th December, Sunday 12:45 for 13:00 |
Out with the Old, in with the New
‘The only good thing about turning forty,’ Martin Amis once said, ‘is that people finally stop calling you promising.’ If you are a novelist who hasn’t acquired Amis-level fame by that age there are plenty of bad things about turning forty too. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth in our house when I learned I had been disqualified from the 2003 Best of Young British Novelists list because, at the age of thirty-nine, I did not qualify as ‘under forty’ (I was due to turn forty by the end of the calendar year). Novelist Philip Hensher, who was on the list, made an admirable attempt to bite the hand that was feeding him by going on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme and criticising the criteria. Why not ‘new’ rather than ‘young’ writers, he said? Why not have a criteria that stated writers should be no more than ten years on from publishing their first novel, regardless of age? There would still be casualties, of course – there are with any award criteria – but it would mean that a certain band of writers (he was kind enough to cite me, Ali Smith, Liz Jensen and Julie Myerson as examples) would still be eligible.
Lists aside, there are serious issues surrounding the ageing, middle-ranking novelist in a career which often seems polarised between the hot young things who trouser six-figure advances when they are scarcely toilet-trained and the literary establishment hanging on for the Nobel nomination before they turn their toes skyward. With publishers’ lists being squeezed, I know several novelists my age (43, seeing as you ask) who have been dropped completely by their editors, not because their work has slackened off but because they are seen as too ‘middle’ – neither the newcomers eligible for the first novel prizes or a dead cert for that year’s Man Booker shortlist. Sometimes, novelists can come back from having book number four or five rejected and go on to publish six or seven, but often with small presses who offer no advance. ‘I went from being promising to being completely unheard of in the space of two novels,’ the late great Angela Carter once told me. She staged a comeback before dying tragically young at the age of forty-six but many novelists who have started well slide slowly into obscurity, unnoticed by a culture where nothing succeeds like success. Those of us who continue to publish are rarely in doubt about how lucky we are to have avoided such a fate. You are only as good as your last novel.
These sorts of fears – as well as a more regular mid-life crisis – are the worries that plague the Michael Douglas character in the film Wonder Boys, based on the novel by Michael Chabon. Douglas plays an ageing author suffering from writer’s block who encounters the gifted newcomer Tobey Maguire. I spent most of the film hooting in recognition. Put a hundred writers in a room and ninety-nine will admit they are envious of the success of younger, hotter authors and the other one will be lying. Many middle-ranking novelists who feel they are slipping or who can’t afford to publish with a small press for nothing end up in academia, as the Michael Douglas character does, teaching their future rivals. Under such circumstances, it must take a great effort of will not to resent the bright-eyed tyros you see before you in the creative writing seminar room. ‘Yeah, I had those dreams once and look what happened to me, here I am teaching you lot!’ The interview panels of institutions that offer creative writing courses must be well-practised in spotting chronic cynicism amongst the would-be professor.
I haven’t ended up in academia (yet), although I do teach writing on residential courses such as those run by the Arvon Foundation. In addition, for the whole of last year, I wrote a column in the Daily Telegraph newspaper, in the Saturday Review section, entitled A Novel in a Year, which was, if you like, a columnist’s attempt at creating a massive creative writing course. Every fortnight, I set readers a writing exercise that illustrated whatever particular point I was making and during the alternate weeks I talked about aspects of writing which did not readily lend themselves to exercises, of which there were plenty. For the first half of the year, the exercises revolved around generating material for a book – only later did I move on to different aspects of technique. The Telegraph set up a special section of its website so that readers could log on and post the results of their exercise, and comment on each other’s efforts as well. It drew a massive response, which I would like to suggest was because of the incisiveness of my advice and brilliance of my prose but was, of course, due to the fact that there is a massive hunger on the part of new writers for help, advice and mutual support from their fellows. Although I was the ostensible ‘tutor’, I enjoyed the year immensely and learned a lot myself. A great deal of literary fun was had and hopefully a few newcomers to writing were encouraged to find their work quoted favourably in a national newspaper. The also appear in the book version, published in June and still called A Novel in a Year (Simon & Schuster), which is currently selling better on Amazon than any of my novels have ever done.
When I began the column, I thought of it as a fairly innocuous activity that might prompt a few people who had always wanted to write a novel but never tried before to have a go at it. Little did I realise the venomous reaction I would receive from my fellow established writers. ‘Good God!’ exploded one. ‘Do we really need thousands of bloody Telegraph readers flooding the market with their unpublished manuscripts, its tough enough as it is!’
‘Bet you get loads of rubbish coming in from your column!’ more than one writer said to me chummily, at parties or whatnot. Well, yes, there was rubbish but there was also a huge amount of writing that was new and fresh and exciting, and lots of interesting discussion on the Telegraph’s message board about everything from coping with rejection or writers’ block through the difference between metaphor and simile to what sort of chocolate best aids the creative process. I don’t think my pearls of wisdom were always brilliantly put and I’m sure I occasionally sounded patronising without meaning to but I came feel proud of and protective towards the writers who contributed, week in week out.
I don’t think I enjoyed doing the column just because I am such a generous, warm-hearted personality type (although I am, of course,) but because I am acutely aware of how much help I needed from older writers during my early years and genuinely get off on the thought that I am returning the favour. In my early twenties, I did the now-famous MA in creative writing at the University of East Anglia, which is where I met Angela Carter. My other tutor was Malcolm Bradbury, the doyen of creative writing, whose tactfully put but razor-sharp criticism was absolutely essential in making me realise just how much work I had to do if I was ever to become a published author.
If anyone had been asked to assess my chances of becoming published back in those days, they would have given a sad shake of the head. It took me ten years of hard slog and much help and advice before I finally wrote something that was good enough to become my first book. I don’t think any established writer can look at a newcomer’s work and declare them talentless. The worst they can say is, the jury is still out.
Many other authors would profoundly disagree with me on this – many would say that innate talent shines from the very start and writing can’t be taught etc. etc. Well, I certainly agree that talent can’t be taught – nobody but a fool would argue otherwise – but an already-talented person with raw ability still has a great deal to learn about prose technique and the development of psychological stamina, or they will get nowhere fast. I am deeply suspicious of writers who are keen to discourage newcomers from learning – could it be they just don’t like the idea of fresh talent in their dating pool? Most of us ‘established’ novelists, even quite successful ones, are destined to be out of print before we are cold in our graves, even if our careers as published writers lasts that long – perhaps we should be a bit more realistic about that, and a bit more generous to those coming up in the fast lane behind us.
© Louise Doughty and HASNotes
HASMembership
and HASNotes contributions
HASMembership is £8 for SoA members; otherwise £12/year.
To apply, email your short bio and list of publications to Zsuzsanna
Ardó, HAS Chair: ardo 'at' pobox.com Contributions to HASNotes
are welcome. Copyright remains with the authors and HASNotes. Permission
is hereby granted for any article published herein to be reproduced
in full or in part, subject to the consent of the Author(s), as long
as HASNotes with its URL (http://www.hasweb.org) is clearly indicated
as the original source
|
