Archive | February, 2011

Robes à la Française from the Met collection

28 Feb

I’ve been having a lot of fun reading my new 100 Dresses book, which highlights 100 of the very finest and most iconic and evocative dresses in the vast collection of the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum in New York. I’ll be featuring some of these dresses, and others, in detail over the next few weeks and thought I would start with this amazing court dress from the 1750s.

I can’t imagine wearing something as cumbersome and imposing as this, can you? It’s gorgeous though, isn’t it? Oh, so many questions today! This dress was bulked and held out at the sides by panniers made from whalebone or bent willow wands, creating an imposing and elegant silhouette.

I’m fascinated by how narrow it is and have visions of the ladies of Versailles and St James’ Palace edging sideways like crabs through the gold and white doorways, probably while the equally sumptuously dressed gentleman chortled behind their lacy sleeves at them.

This particular silk and silver thread robe à la Française evokes thoughts of Versailles during the gallant, licentious, rose scented aegis of Louis XV and his divinely fair mistress Madame de Pompadour, but is in fact English in origin so would have been worn at the rather more staid (in appearance anyway) court of George II.

During the eighteenth century there were various different styles of dress, most predominently the polonaise, the robe à l’Anglaise, the robe à la Française, the sacque and the volante. My personal taste is for the polonaise, which I will save for a different post but the formal robe à la Française is perhaps the most becoming style and one that is most quintessentially ‘eighteenth century’ in style.

The robe à la française was derived from the loose negligee sacque dress of the earlier part of the century, which was pleated from the shoulders at the front at the back. The silhouette, composed of a funnel-shaped bust feeding into wide rectangular skirts, was inspired by Spanish designs of the previous century and allowed for expansive amounts of textiles with delicate Rococo curvilinear decoration. The wide skirts, which were often open at the front to expose a highly decorated underskirt, were supported by panniers created from padding and hoops of different materials such as cane, baleen or metal. The robes à la française are renowned for the beauty of their textiles, the cut of the back employing box pleats and skirt decorations, known as robings, which showed endless imagination and variety.‘  – Met Museum.

Nothing could be more graceful than the way that the heavy folds of this gown fall to the floor. This particular dress is French and dates from between 1750-1775 – the wide dating here reflects just how little basic fashion changed during the middle years of the eighteenth century with dresses reflecting the same basic shape for more than one decade.

These dresses are French and made from hand painted silk taffeta. You can just imagine them being worn at Versailles by Madame de Pompadour and her friends can’t you?

Another beautiful French robe à la Française, this time made from a pale blue silk cotton that’s vaguely reminiscent of a Cath Kidston tea towel. This dress, lighter than its silk taffeta and brocade counterparts would have been worn during the day.

It’s a contrast to this lovely but very fragile looking French robe à la Française from the early 1770s. This is the sort of dress that women would have worn to balls, the theatre or parties during the years that Marie Antoinette was Dauphine of France and in the early part of her reign. You can almost a sense the change, the first glimpse of things to come in this dress – it’s formal but there’s a delicate lightness of touch here.

So, which is your favourite?

Book progress, 23,418 words.

27 Feb

Back in the mists of time when I first started this blog, I actually intended it to be about my writing. This resolution didn’t last very long, however and now it’s about all sorts of things but mostly rococo flouncy stuff. I find that blogging is a bit like goth, in that it’s best not to think too hard about what label you fall under and just go with the flow and have some fun.

Anyway, seeing as I am actually in the process of writing something and kind of want to TALK about this, I thought it might be fun or nice or maybe even interesting to post regular progress updates along the way as I journey and angst through this book.

This is the first. What do you want to know?

As you can see, I am 23,418 words in, which isn’t bad considering that I work from home and have two small children and stuff. I have had a few embarrassing writerly angst ridden meltdowns along the way though about all of this as it is hard finding time to write and I often feel like I shouldn’t be doing this because it cuts into my working time which, of course, actually earns me money. However, I kind of NEED to write for the sake of my sanity so it’s all moot really.

Anyway, I’ve been distracting myself with plans for research trips to London and Paris as well as trying to arrange a week or two either in Cornwall or the Lake District so that I can get away from work and the internet and just WRITE. There’s also fun things like the RNA conference to look forward to as well.

Now, where was I? Ah yes, Georgian London. This is FUN to write about and I feel a bit sad that this phase of the book is almost over as I am about to move the action to Paris and Versailles. It’s funny though – I’ve done so much reading and research into 18th century Paris that I know it far better than London at the same period, which is a bit odd as it’s my own capital? Ever feel like you were born in the wrong time and the wrong country? Yup. That. I’m always saying that I must have done something Very Bad Indeed in a past life to have not been born French this time around!

My characters are currently at a ball, which is nice as I love writing ball scenes – you can go really over the top with descriptions of gorgeous dresses, over the top etiquette and perfumes and dancing and music and flowers and oh all the loveliness.

It was a pity though that Mrs Garland would have to rely on newspaper reports for an account of the magnificence that awaited her daughters when they nervously descended, hearts fluttering with panic and excitement from their carriage in front of Lady Trent’s huge white stone mansion on stately Grosvenor Square. They hugged each other with glee as they looked up at the tall windows, which were brightly lit up with thousands of candles, while the distant happy sounds of good times, of music and laughter floated down to the torch lit street below. Finally, unbelievably, the life that they had desperately desired for so long was within their grasp and it was just as glorious as they could have ever possibly imagined.

A large crowd had gathered to watch Milady’s guests arrive and they cheered and shouted florid compliments as the two Garland sisters tied on their sequin and lace trimmed black velvet masks then delicately lifted their floating skirts and made their way up the marble steps into the house, where a flurry of pretty pink cheeked maids divested them of their ruffled silk and tulle cloaks then directed them up the magnificent cream and gold staircase to a large ballroom on the first floor, which overlooked a small but well tended garden.

‘Now there’s a pretty piece!’ a red faced man exclaimed to the gentleman next to him as Anastasia floated past him on the stairs, raising his glass of champagne to her in tribute. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing her without a mask on.’

Grosvenor Square is a bit different these days though. I always used to try my best to avoid it when I lived in London as I was absolutely terrified of all the armed police standing around the US Embassy. Interestingly, there has been a US connection with Grosvenor Square since 1785 when John Adams set up his Embassy there when he was American Minister at the Court of St James’.

It’s a minor detail really but I’ve loved looking at plans like the one above of a grand mansion on Grosvenor Square – it helps me imagine where my characters would actually have physically gone when they arrived at the house for the ball. I also now know that there would have been a little verandah at the side of the ballroom, which is handy to know if you want to add a little romance to the scene!

I have a rule while writing that I can’t read fiction set in the same period that I am writing about in case I am inadvertantly influenced by it. I’ve been reading as much non fiction as I can though – as noted in a previous post, most of my huge book collection is in storage right now but I still have a few books about the place, which I am referring to!

The most crucial book is of course The Memoirs of Madame de la Tour du Pin, which all novelists writing about eighteenth century French high society and the revolution owe a massive HUGE debt to. Lucie de la Tour du Pin was the daughter of one of Marie Antoinette’s favourites and would herself become a lady in the waiting to the Queen in the twilight years of the French court. Her memoirs go into incredible detail about the etiquette, ritual and intrigues of Marie Antoinette’s court and make a fascinating read.

Alongside this, I have Dancing to the Precipice: Lucie de la Tour du Pin and the French Revolution by Caroline Moorhead, which is a serious and really brilliant study of the memoirs and society that Lucie lived in. I’d be lost without them!

Music is a constant and important part of my writing process too. I’ve made a special play list called Georgian Girl, which features plenty of Mesh, Delphic, Massive Attack and Hurts as well as the soundtrack to Plunkett and Maclean of course! Top of my listening list is Emilie Autumn though, who provides the perfect soundtrack for eighteenth century decadence.

Opheliac especially is perfect for writing about flouncing, fainting Georgian ladies – when I listen to it I always imagine a very proper young lady sitting with company in a lovely sugared almond coloured drawing room, nodding and smiling politely as the older ladies quiz her about last night’s ball. Then as the music changes she gets up, leaves then runs down a long gallery with a black and white parquet floor, ripping the feathers out of her hair, smearing her red rouge all over her face and shredding her beautiful gold and white panniered dress as she goes.

Oh sigh. And now I want to get back to writing again so it’s bye for now! x

Medieval frolics at Camp Bestival

25 Feb

Seeing as we enjoyed ourselves so much last year, we will definitely be at Camp Bestival again this summer for more fun and frolics in the (hopefully!) sunshine. In fact, so keen were we to be there again that we bought our tickets as soon as they went on sale – which is a bit unlike us as we tend to leave things to the last minute.

The first acts and headliners were announced earlier this week – Blondie, ABC, House of Pain, Eliza Doolittle (disappointingly not as Victorian as the name suggests), Wonder Stuff and er some other bands that I can’t recall at this present time. I’ll be honest – I’m not THRILLED by the line up but then we don’t go for the music anyway. Having said that, I must confess to rather looking forward to a good sing a long to ABC. Who broke my heart? You did! YOU DID!


Ahem. Moving on.

Not content with announcing some of the acts, they also announced the ALL IMPORTANT dressing up theme which is to be MEDIEVAL this year. Oh, be still my beating heart. Now, as you may or may not have noticed, I am a bit of a sucker for getting dressed up but only if it has a historical theme. I am therefore pretty excited by this one and already starting to plan my outfit. Oh and er everyone else’s. But mostly mine.

Now, I usually mentally end the Medieval period with the defeat of poor Richard III (I won’t hear a word said against him so don’t even go there) at Bosworth in August 1485, which is handy as it means I can consider a bit of flamboyant Italian Renaissance style for my costume.

If you are going to Camp Bestival and looking for some inspiration, may I present a few ideas to get you started?

I think that rather than going for strictly historical Medieval, the best and most becoming course of action is to go for Pre Raphaelite Medieval so we’re talking long, flowing dresses in rich, jewel like colours with beading and maybe a low slung fabric or gold belt. If you fancy attaching gauzy flowing sleeves then so much the better. We’re thinking bare foot in a meadow like a mad woman in a poem rather than the Wife of Bath.

Yes, exactly this sort of thing. Knock back a couple of PIMMS by the Boden Tent and you should have the wild eyed stare of a woman caught in some sort of hideous pathological downward spiral without too much effort.

Long flowing hair is perfect for this – you could wear a wimple type construction but why do that when you can you let your hair hang free and unkempt? Flowers are, of course, the perfect finishing touch and I should imagine there will be stalls selling flower garlands again this year.

You get the idea. Personally, I will be haunting Ebay over the next few months and hunting for Medieval style goth dresses that I can customise. I rather fancy something in a nice crushed green velvet that I can team with some gold accessories. If you fancy splashing out then I’d recommend somewhere like The Dark Angel or Kambriel. I used to have one of their Wisteria gowns in lilac and now really regret selling it on unworn. Woe.

I have very long hair so I think I might copy Botticelli and have lots of intricate plaits and stuff going on as well, just to finish the look off.

I like the embroidered detail on the skirt in this Waterhouse painting so may try my hand at something similar, although I am so useless that it will probably be more likely to involve a stencil and some fabric paint.

If you’re still stumped, Google search Rossetti, Waterhouse, Botticelli, Holman Hunt, Pre Raphaelite Medieval and for some more contemporary takes try Braveheart (rubbish film but some great costumes), Ever After, The Borgias, Kingdom of Heaven and Lord of the Rings

Marie Antoinette by Jean-Laurent Mosnier

24 Feb

I was really excited when I came across this frankly gorgeous 1775 miniature of Marie Antoinette by Jean-Laurent Mosnier. Excited and also absolutely envious of the lucky person who bought it for €91,000 when it came up for sale at Christie’s Paris in June last year.

Sorry about all the different views but I got a bit carried away while admiring the delicate colours and the exquisite shading. It’s so pretty though that I’m sure you don’t mind!

 

You can read the full description of the piece on the Christie’s site!

At Home With The Georgians

24 Feb

One of the best things about writing historical fiction, besides being able to escape into a different time and day dream about gorgeous clothes and oh all that sort of thing, is the research that makes all of this possible. It really feels like the best job in the world sometimes as I laze around reading fabulous books about eighteenth century fashion, architecture and society, feverishly taking notes about little bits and pieces that will add that I hope will add a little extra sparkle to my story.

Writing Before The Storm has been a bit challenged in this respect though as we are currently trying to sell our flat and in a moment of insanity decided that it would be a Jolly Good Idea to put about 75% of our belongings and pretty much all of my books into storage. That was quite a while ago now and I’m honestly pining for quite a lot of them. I may go very very quiet for a long time after we’re reunited actually – I’m sure you won’t mind but I’ll be rolling around on my bed, surrounded by books about French art. Totally understandable, I think you will agree!

Anyway, I wasn’t planning to write this particular book right now so I put the books that would actually be really REALLY useful right now into storage without a second thought. This is very bad. However, luckily for me, the fantastic Behind Closed Doors: At Home in Georgian England by Amanda Vickery came out in the nick of time and has been a major source of information about how my 1780s characters would probably have lived in their lovely houses while plotting ways to get invited to balls in Mayfair.

I can’t recommend this book and the accompanying series enough actually (although I did get a bit scared in the first episode as it went to not one, not two but THREE places that I have lived in the past) – it’s an often touching study of the domestic arrangements of various different types of households in 18th century England and is packed with fascinating information about all manner of things from house hunting to what your taste in wallpaper said about your place in the pecking order to whose job it was to choose the furniture to how Georgian ladies organised their housekeeping. I found it absolutely absorbing and it has really helped me give an extra dimension to my characters who belong to a highly aspirant nouveau riche social class.

Thanks to At Home with the Georgians I now know that Mrs Garland, a rather indolent wife of an immensely wealthy city businessman lives with her family in a relatively newly built townhouse in Highbury, that she has a fondness for yellow wallpaper and paint, that she hired someone else to oversee the decorating of her house and that people laugh at her a bit for buying the noble portraits that hang in her public rooms from auction houses. I also now know that her crowning ambition is probably to persuade her reluctant husband to buy a country estate as that was considered the pinnacle of gentlemanly success at this time.

Having said that, although I have a clear preference for writing about the history of women, I found the section of the book that detailed the living arrangements of bachelors in Georgian England, the most moving and interesting. I felt so sad for them as they longed for the comfort of a household headed by a loving, caring wife. It’s incredible how much society has changed – nowadays the self indulgent life of a well off bachelor who can do as he pleases is supposed to be an object of envy, but in Georgian times he would have been viewed with pity and even some derision and probably would have been pretty desperate to get married.

I loved this book and would definitely recommend it to anyone who is interested in eighteenth century society and the development of the concept of taste, which seems so simple to us with our over abundance of choice but at the time was absolutely revolutionary. The wealthy had always created houses that were more show pieces than homes, but it was in the eighteenth century that the concept of domesticity really came into its own and people from all classes embraced the notion of creating a home, of allowing your choices about interior design and decoration reveal your own personality as well as aspirations.

I read it alongside The Secret History of Georgian London: How the Wages of Sin Shaped the Capital by Dan Cruickshank, which I also really loved and offered a really eye opening tour of the grimy underbelly of London. Part of my book is set in a brothel in Covent Garden and this gave me a really good idea of the sort of thing that would have gone on there – um, okay, I had a fair idea anyway but oh, you’ll see…

The one where I write a sex scene…

23 Feb

Well, I did it, I wrote a sex scene and am just about to embark on another. I call them ‘sex scenes’ rather than ‘love scenes’ because in my mind I read that as ‘luuuurve’ and oh, well, that’s just horrible isn’t it?

It wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be. No, actually it was a bit worse. Some of you tried to tell me that I didn’t need to have any sex in my book and often novels are better without it but I didn’t listen. Oh no, I went and did it anyway out of some misguided sense of completeness and also determination that this is going to be an grown up book for grown ups. It’s a bit galling though as I have now written two scenes of this nature in this book, both of which feature a character who was only supposed to be a bit parter but who has turned out to be a bit of a Valmont like philanderer. Eek.

I’m told that the point where your characters start to behave in unpredictable and unscripted ways is the point at which they have become fully ‘real’ and no longer one dimensional. I hope this is true, but I do wish that they would manifest their ‘realness’ in more milquetoast ways. And by that I mean ‘STOP DOING IT! DO AS YOU ARE TOLD!’

I wrote my first sex scene when I was just fifteen in a novel based on the poem The Highwayman. I was still a virgin at the time and had gleaned all of my information from Wideacre, Barbara Cartland and the novels of Jean Plaidy so it wasn’t altogether successful, as you can imagine. Sadly (!) this piece of genius (it wasn’t) juvenalia has been long lost but I still blushingly recall some parts of it, which I am not going to share with you now but needless to say, it was really, really awful!

Nowadays though I’m a bit more knowledgeable but there is still a hideous lingering suspicion that if I write anything too outré then the reader will assume that it’s what I get up to and totally lose all respect for me. Worse still is the prospect of my husband reading it and doing a little moue of disappointment and complaining that ‘you never let me do that!’

Yes, it’s a minefield all right.

Other than this Before The Storm is going very well. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. The action has moved from Georgian Bath to London and is about to move on again to lovely LOVELY 1787 Paris with shops and Marie Antoinette and Versailles and all sorts of gorgeousness.

Did you see what I did there? Yes, Before The Storm is the title of this latest opus. It came to me shortly after waking up this morning and seemed pretty perfect. It sort of comes from the famous quote by Madame de Pompadour of course – ‘après nous, le déluge‘ but I was also thinking of Guerlain’s perfume ‘Après l’Ondée‘ too because I adore Guerlain and I always think that scent smells like eighteenth century bordellos.

Of course, more aptly, the title fits because the book covers the years 1787 to 1791, the final years of the French aristocracy under Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette and the last respite before the start of the Terror.

My characters are really growing on me now and I’ve been taking great pleasure in taking them to the beautiful Pump Rooms, rural Islington Village, dissolute Covent Garden, St James’ Park with its view of elegant Buckingham House and, most latterly, a fabulous masked society ball with Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire as the guest of honour. This book is a lot of fun to write – I just hope it’s as much fun to read!

I’m loving the research too but I’ll be talking a little bit more about that later this week!

The other 80s royal wedding – the Yorks, 1986

22 Feb

I actually remember the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of York on the 23rd of July 1986 far more clearly than that of Charles and Diana in July 1981. It was a lovely day from what I recall – either adults were less dismissive and cynical about the royal family and, more specifically, their weddings back then or I just never noticed.

I was royal family mad of course. I’d been collecting books, magazines, postcards and oh God EVERYTHING about Princess Diana for years at that point so an actual royal wedding was a bit of a thrill for me. Of course, having red hair myself meant that the thrill palled somewhat after a few months of being called ‘Fergie’ in reference to the royal bride.

The thing I remember the most about the royal wedding of 1986 though is how deliriously happy the couple looked. It’s sad really to recall this but I remember aspiring less to the whole grandiose trappings of an immense royal wedding than to how overjoyed Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson looked on their wedding day. I always hoped that I’d look just as thrilled on my wedding day…

So now of course we have the big question – which 1980s royal wedding dress do you prefer? I am, as you may have noticed, a big fan of Princess Diana’s fairytale princess ensemble but there is a special place in my heart for the Duchess of York’s dress too. What do you think?

It was designed by relatively unknown designer Lindka Cierach, who said later that: ‘I wanted the Duchess of York’s sense of fun and joy to come out in the dress. One day I woke up in the middle of the night and had dreamed it, and that was it‘. I actually think that the dress is more elegant and stately than ‘fun’ but maybe that’s just me.

The Duchess’ gown was made from champagne ivory silk from the famous silk farms at Lullingstone and has a beautiful, fitted almost Renaissance silhouette. The Duchess’ would later be endlessly criticised for what people saw as her terrible dress sense (personally I don’t think she dressed any worse than any other celebrity in the 80s) but I think that she never looked better than she did on her wedding day – simple, elegant lines clearly really suited her and the soft blush of the silk was immensely flattering to her colouring.

The highpoint of the dress, however was the exquisitely gorgeous seed pearl and diamante embroidery that covered the bodice and seventeen and a half foot train. 155,000 sequins and pearls were used to create symbols that were special to the royal couple and their families, including thistles, hearts, bees, anchors and even an ‘A’ for Andrew. It really was a special dress and in fact, the Duchess herself was to say that: ‘there will never be a dress to match it.’


The attention to detail didn’t end there – the Duchess was unusual for wearing a floral headdress when she went up the aisle and then removing it to reveal a tiara ( a present from the Queen – cor, I think my in laws gave us a washer dryer as a wedding present!) after the wedding ceremony was over. This was supposed to symbolise her transition from commoner to princess or as Sarah herself put it: ‘I had stepped up as the country girl; I would walk back as a princess.’

Oh and her shoes were by Manolo Blahnik!


Were you one of the 500 million people who watched the wedding that day? Did you have a ‘Fergie hair bow’ – I had a vast collection of them. Oh don’t look at me like that – don’t you remember the Fergie hair bows? She used to wear over sized silk bows on her hair at the back and they became a bit of a craze here in the UK. She didn’t wear a hair bow on her wedding day (note that she had her hair down, which seems pretty unusual these days), oh no, she had an immense bow on the back of the dress instead as well as little bows on the shoulders.

She also started a brief but intense fashion for Davy Crockett style faux fur hats. Not to mention PEACH bridesmaids dresses after her bridesmaids traipsed up the aisle in peach silk, carrying flower bedecked hoops. Oh, peach silk and hoops. They became a staple part of weddings for the latter half of the eighties thanks to the Duchess of York, for which I am sure that plenty of you curse her…


When can I call myself a writer?

21 Feb

This is something that pops up a lot when talking to other writers. You’d think that it would be as simple as You Write Therefore You Are A WRITER but no, apparently not. You see, writers are the optimistic pessimists of the creative world – always hopeful that their current Work In Progress is THE ONE but at the same time prone to beating themselves up, focusing on the hideous imperfections and imagining the slew of one star reviews that will appear on Amazon if it is ever published, which it won’t be because it’s RUBBISH and why do I even bother? Oh woe.

Ahem. Once upon a time I was a member of a forum, which was mostly made up of nice people but also had some really quite bewilderingly awful people too. It wasn’t a forum for writers but a couple of people, including myself, were kind of into the whole writing thing. The fashion on there seemed to be to call oneself an ‘aspiring writer’, but I personally think that’s a bit weird as ‘aspiring’ to me suggests one of those annoying people who wander around Islington dinner parties looking for a published writer that they can latch on to so they can tell them all about ‘the book I have inside me. I know it could be a bestseller, I just have to find the time to sit down and write it.’ While all the while the person they are talking at is having fantasies about taking a VERY BIG BOOK and repeatedly bringing it down HARD on their head.

No, that’s not for me. The problem is though that if you boldly introduce yourself as a ‘writer’ then one of two things will inevitably happen – either a hideous, glazed bored look will descend on the other person’s face OR they will ask you if you’ve had anything published. At which point you blush, look embarrassed and shuffle your feet a bit, murmuring ‘Um, no, not really…’ while they look at you with a depressing mixture of contempt and disgust. How DARE you call yourself something you aren’t. HOW DARE YOU. IMPOSTER!

There’s a lot of people out there, some of whom would also like to be writers but have had a knock back and are clearly keen to keep us all in our proper place, who think that someone has NO RIGHT to call themselves a ‘writer’ until they have an agent and a published book. Until that point, well, you will just have to forget about such vainglorious delusions of grandeur.

I think they are wrong. More than wrong, I think they are mean spirited. And also ghastly.

So at what point do you finally sit back and say ‘I AM A WRITER?’ And at what point do you brazenly call yourself one without shame over the spoons full of canapes (or have we moved on now from this particular culinary conceit?) at dinner parties?

Is it when:

1. You first put pen to paper or, more likely, finger pad to keyboard? Because, you know, that’s WRITING isn’t it?

2. Is it when you have FINISHED something? A novel perhaps? Or a poem? I mean, at this point, you have left the ‘aspiring’ writers behind haven’t you? You’ve done the time and taken one for the team.

3. Or perhaps it is when you’ve had your first rejection. It sucks to be rejected but there’s always plenty of people on hand to tell you that a. all writers are rejected and also b. blah blah blah JK Rowling blah blah blah. I was once summarily rejected by an agent who told me that I am ‘barely literate’ and ‘inarticulate’. Now, I don’t like to trumpet about my writing skills but I think that ‘barely literate’ is going a bit far really. I considered sending them a copy of Bernard’s Letter from Black Books but decided at the very last minute that this was just playing into their hands.

Dear Mr Trussington Howell-Foxforthy,

Thank you for returning my manuscript and your enclosed nasty niminy-piminy little note. I am afraid your letter is most unsuitable for me at the present time as I’ve just spent the entire weekend writing the novel that you have summarily rejected. I can only assume that it is company policy to reject all manuscripts not submitted in 10-ft high Braille. And yes, I am aware, that it is traditionally bad form to respond to any kind of criticism or rejection. But in this, as with all else, I am an innovator. Therefore I may freely address you as pissmidget.

Still, there is time for you to change your views, and I think you will when we meet. And meet we most assuredly will. When I suck out your eyes and use them as stoppers for my ears to muffle the screams you’ll make as I headbutt you into a fine paste. I do hope you will not be disheartened by your sudden, violent death.

Yours Faithfully, Bernard Black

Everyone… Everyone agreed he was right to kill the publisher. And to do it with a flugelhorn was a stroke of genius. “Bernard!” they said. No, Brendan, Brendan, “Brendan” they said. “Congratulations! Here, have this basket of stuff and come and stay for the weekend!

Moving on, you get the idea I am sure. Is it when you get an agent? Or have your first weepy melt down when an editor sends back your precious oeuvre with a lot of red lines and ‘CHANGE THIS NOW, IT SUCKS’ scrawled all over it? Or when you first see your name on a front cover? Or when you first walk into Waterstones and THERE IT IS, your book on a shelf! Or maybe it’s when you get that first one star review on Amazon and want to march around to the reviewer’s house and set fire to their letter box, but instead you go for the more dignified path of commenting on their review and telling them that they WRONG and also PITIFULLY STUPID so shouldn’t be allowed to read books anyway and especially not ones as good as yours.

Hm. Personally I’ve wrestled with this one for a while – I tried out ‘I am a writer’ at a few dinner parties and so forth but felt like a fraud when I was instantly asked what I’d had published so I stopped doing that in the end. Recently though (since going on an Arvon course in fact) I have started using it again because, damn it, I WRITE.

Luckily, I can now answer the ‘So have you had something published?’ question with a demuring smile and ‘Actually, my first book is due out later this year’ but it wasn’t always so and I think that actually the prospect of being published hasn’t made me feel any more of a writer than I did already. I feel more like an ‘author’ perhaps, which I think is distinct from ‘writer’ but no, I am just as much a writer now as I was when I first started writing novels at the age of ten.

So what about you? Do you think there is a magic point when you transcend from ‘aspiring writer’ to ‘writer’? Or is this all nonsense?

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