Round Up...

After the summer, September felt like the longest month, but a perfect time to get my feet back on the ground...some things that I've been happily engrossed in...

I’m not going to start every single post with “Is this a record? Five months since my last post…” Because, well, it may be more. In any case, I will keep trying to post regularly.

My Summer Reads

August was a wonderful, heady blur of a month. Greek beaches, too much Greek salad, tennis, naps on a sun bed, and the most glorious weather back here in London, too. I caught up on so much reading. I finally devoured Andre Agassi’s Open, which my dear tennis friend from Singapore passed to me as I left over a year ago. Then, finally had the space and quiet to read In Memoriam by Alice Winn, which both devastated me and inspired me in equal measure. I also had Helen Garner’s How to End a Story for company for weeks, which gave me so much comfort, Writers and Lovers by Lily King, and I cannot wait to dive into her Heart for Lovers next. So much of her writing leaves me feeling so completely seen, and to me, this is the greatest joy of books. Curtis Sittenfeld’s Show Don’t Tell. I love her books so much, her novels and short stories in equal measure, the acerbic observations and the intimacy which I’m not quite brave enough to write yet. And I finally read A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, which I gave myself just a weekend to finally read, because I couldn’t suffer through it any longer. It was excruciating in the very ways I was warned, and I still cannot forget the characters who have stayed with me long afterwards.

Seven Minutes of Fame

And then a crazy moment right in the middle of the month as I popped to New York for my seven minutes of fame on The Today Show. My Other Heart was picked as the August book for Read With Jenna, Jenna Hager Bush’s amazing celebrity bookclub. She is a voracious reader, and champions books, it was honestly the most surreal, wonderful, fairytale moment for me. I was so nervous arriving at the studio in Rockefeller Centre but it was all so lovely and welcoming (and hectic in the best possible way, just like you imagine morning tv to be), and then I was introduced to the Between The Lines bookclub from New Jersey the most wonderful group of ladies who were the book club invited to ask questions. And I immeidately felt at ease, and Jenna too was the most incredible host, warm, disarming and I just felt totally relaxed and the seven minutes whizzed by in the blink of an eye and I still can’t quite believe it happened.

Quiet Inspiration

Since then, I’ve been back at the desk, and reading everything I can get my hands on. Turns out I’m not one of those readers who can only read poetry when writing, no, I need inspiration from writers past and present.

I’ve been down a very dedicated path with Elaine Castillo, too. I did a media presentation with her through my US publishers earlier this year and was completely enthralled by what she had to say about her forthcoming novel, which has now been out for several months, Moderation. I have been recommending it to everyone. She manages to bring together the tricky world of Big Tech, VR, the immigrant’s experience in the US, diaspora and love, Austen-esque will-they-won’t-they love. I love her writing for its boldness and humanity. And scenes that make you want to close your eyes and cringe, and others that make you feel complete rage. I quickly bought America is Not the Heart afterwards, and I was equally swept away into the world of Hero, and her spiky Aunt Paz, how I love a spiky woman. Olive Kitteridge forever. And the snobbery she faces as an immigrant in California, faith healers, trauma and how she navigates love with another woman in a culture that isn’t always accepting or so open on these matters. I love how Castillo challenges you to think about things differently, to see the world through different eyes. It’s intoxicating to read her work. I also have an immediate affinity for dog lovers, particularly German Shepherds. And Castillo is so devoted to her beautiful hound, she even has her on her headshot at the back of the book. I’ve always wanted a German Shepherd, don’t tell my wimpy black Lab this, but one day…When I have the time and space we’ll hopefully have another companion.

I have been returning to Jun’ichiro Tanizaki’s In Praise of Shadows. Its a an essay really, that examines the nuance of shadows and small actions, the softness that age and juxtapositions between light and dark can give to an object, giving it another form of beauty to be meditated upon. Its a real celebration of quiet things, and to me, an invitation to slow down and bury myself into details that can be the making of creativity.

“Whenever I see the alcove of a tastefully built Japanese room, I marvel at our comprehension of the secrets of shadows, our sensitive use of light and shadow.”

“I wonder if my readers know the color of that ‘darkness seen by candlelight.’ It was different in quality from darkness on the road at night. It was a repletion, a pregnancy of tiny particles like fire ashes, each particle luminous as a rainbow.”

Such beautiful observations that make me pause.

Comfort reads and listens…

I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts about writers and their methods, their experiences, and also referring to books, too, like Hattie Crissell’s In Writing - both her podcast and book are treasure troves of inspiring nuggets. It’s not even just the tips on writing or finding inspiration when it seems to be eluding you. But rather, to just know that it’s normal to feel a little lost in the creative process, or all wrapped up in the neuroses of creation, is comforting. Other books I turn to often in times like this include Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird and John Steinbeck’s Working Days. Podcasts that give me equally comforting balm in the form of being in the trenches or in awe of those who are far ahead than I may ever be in this craft are Writers on Writing, Elin Hilderbrand and Tim Ehrenberg’s Books, Beach and Beyond, Always Take Notes and Barnes and Noble’s Poured Over. So needless to say, it’s taken all of the above to tell you, I’m searching for balm, reassurance, that the suffering and self-doubt and agonising is perfectly normal in the torturous process that is writing a first draft. In fact, I’m doing the exact thing that one is not supposed to do, which is to leave the Sophomore novel until well after the first debut is out, which is not what clever people do. Clever people foresee the self-consciousness and insecurity that might seep in once your work is out there and you start to listen to all the noise, and so instead, they continue, head down to do what they are meant to do, which is get the ass in the seat, and exercise that writing muscle at all costs.

Music has mattered too lately, something instrumental, something emotional, but also soft, so I don’t feel burdened or too excited by whatever I have in the background. Olafur Arnald’s works (linked is my absolutely favorite piece), Ryuichi Sakamoto’s Bibo no Aozora but again, not the more dramatic, moving pieces, because my heart tends to soar and plummet along with the notes. From the English Patient’s Convento di Sant Anna, and of course Chopin’s Berceuse in D-Flat Major Op 57 and Barcarolle in F Sharp Op.60. I find I can do things with these pieces playing quietly in my subconscious.

Tools…

So… the ass is in the seat, or propped up in bed, very early in the mornings, and I’m trying to get the words down. They are not good words, occasionally some are good, but most of the time there is quite a lot of utter rubbish pouring out of me. Luckily, I have this very smart, clever gadget, the Freewrite Alpha which I use in the mornings while I sip my black coffee, first thing that passes my lips (as my beauty editor days are long behind me, there’s no need to pretend anymore. there’s no hot water, no ginger or lemon. Just caffeine in its purest, darkest form). And then anything between an hour and two hours to write. But the beauty of the Freewrite is that there is no internet connection. It’s just a simple keyboard ( a little like a typewriter), which includes the volume of large keys being tapped about. And then a little lit-up panel to see the last two lines you’ve written and no more. So in the sense of writing from my subconscious for this messy first draft, it’s the perfect companion. Then I simply press the “Send” button, and it goes straight to my email, and I can paste it into my Scrivener file and dissect how many words have come out of me that morning, and whether any of them are in fact usable.

The other thing I’m enjoying in this private, freewheeling moment of creativity is the use of my notebooks I’ve been hoarding and saving, which now I realise is a ridiculous thing to do, because notebooks long to be used and filled. And so I stocked up on my Medium nibbed Kaweco sport fountain pens and writing freely across the pages, filling them all with my thoughts and ideas at any point they come to me. I’ve always loved Stationery and part of the writing process for me is the joy of its paraphernalia. My dear friend Nanna is a Nordic minimalist in its truest form. And she simply uses her Airbook and nothing more (in monochrome colours of course). But I need stuff, pens, notebooks, second notebooks, more pens, all of it. Give it to me! And my recent discovery has been Choosing Keeping in Covent Garden, a beautiful Japanese stationery shop with embossed notebooks, thick silky paper, pens (including the fabulous Kaweco line), cards, wrapping paper. You name it, they have it, and it is such a glorious spot. The last time I had such joy in a store was probably when I spent two hours browsing around Tokyu Hands in Shibuya, Tokyo, about five years ago, or the first time I discovered Il Papiro in Florence, and bought one of their hand crafted marble print notebooks. The luxury of the paper, that’s so soft and indulgent, you just want to brush your hand across the pages before you begin to fill them. And the more you use them, the better they get.

In terms of sustenance, snacks are everything when the creativity really starts to slump. And my favourite shop to stock us is Kew Village’s Trindle Stores, owned and run by the lovely Cam (we share the same boxing coach, the eponymous Louis Briscusse), and I get the School Yard Kitchen Chilli Dark Chocolate Pretzels, Forest Feast Dark Chocolate Almonds and Peters Yards Sourdough crackers with the Ambrosia hummus for when I’m really starting to flag.

And Watching…

Task - a gritty, and very bleak FBI drama about a damaged alcoholic agent who is a former priest, played so heartbreakingly by Mark Ruffalo, I’m a long term fan. He has his own trauma to deal with mas his adopted son is in prison, and you find out later why. Meanwhile he is chasing a desperate single father (Tom Pelphrey) who works in garbage disposal, who steals from drug houses in Philadelphia and finds himself being chased by the FBI Task force and a notoriously violent Biker Gang). It’s also a story that deeply explores forgiveness, the love of a father and desire to protect his family, shame, trauma. It’s bleak but so moving. from the same creators of Mare of Eastown (also set in Philly), which starred Kate Winslet in one of her most powerful roles.

Better Things by Pamela Adlon, a single mother, working actress in LA raising three children, with the wonderful Mikey Madison from Anora. This is the battle of teen parenting at its funniest and most moving and tender at moments you least expect. Celia Imrie plays her eccentric but fragile mother and its just so layered and brilliant

Giri / Haji, a crime show that is set between London and Tokyo, following the journey of two brothers, Kenzo, a Japanese detective, and his brother, the loose cannon Yuto, who joins the Yakuza and goes AWOL in London. Will Sharpe is there as a side-character but often steals the show and undoubtedly has the best lines. But what struck me so deeply from the very beginning is how difficult Kenzo’s wife’s life is. Living in a small apartment in Tokyo with her in-laws, and their perpetual criticism of how she parents, serving her husband who is rarely there and a rebellious teenage daughter…a life of service, and not much joy from what I could observe.

Summer I Turned Pretty, of course, it’s light, fluffy, also wildly unrealistic, but sort of like a reassuring balm.

Meanwhile, saving up all the episodes of the latest Slow Horses, because I loathe to wait for the weekly drop. And I devoured Platonic with Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne, especially when her long suffering husband decides to embrace an author’s life for three episodes.

Events

Finally just a little reminder, I have one more event coming up on October 17th at the Ilkley Literary Festival, where I’ll be talking to Booker long-listed author Clare Adam.

You can find the event details here.