I wonder if the Queen is watching Netflix’s brilliant new production ‘The Crown’.  I guess all members of the Royal Family will be interested to see how their history from 1947 until today has been translated from reality to the screen.

The first two episodes, which held me riveted, have led me to think about the process of creating fiction.  I know that in my novels I draw on my life experience although I have never served up the facts of my life without cooking them.  The closest I’ve come to presenting raw material is in my recent novel, White Lies. (Link has to be put in, self-advertising being the point of this website) https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1536806847.  Peter and I have two children by adoption.  Some readers who know us find it hard to disentangle their perceptions of us from the fiction they see on the page.  I protest the story is not our story.  I would find it extremely hard to write autobiography.  Fiction gives me the freedom to produce an attention-holding narrative.  Facts can be obstacles to entertainment.

In “The Crown” Stephen Daldry has produced a spellbinding narrative out of real life.  The film captures the essence, not necessarily the looks, of the people represented.  But of course the pictures we have of the Royal family stem from the versions we have of them, courtesy of the media.  Only a few close associates can know how well the film represents the real people.

Did the elephant episode at Treetops really happen?  No matter.  It made a dramatic scene which illustrated the birth of Philip’s role as devoted supporter and protector of his wife, the Queen.

I am a monarchist, though I hope the next generation will tighten the budget and reduce the pay roll.

Come to think of it, will the family get a cut of the royalties?

The novel ‘White Lies’ was the first.  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1536806847

‘A Home from Home’, also a novel, was the second. https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1537014838

Out now is the third, this time non-fiction and the reason why I set up this website.  Its title is a bit of a mouthful: ‘Alive in World War Two – The Cousins’ Chronicle, commentary and memoir.’

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/153766032

I’m going to retire to my study now, after three months spent getting these titles out into the world.  The two novels, ‘White Lies’ and ‘A Home from Home’, were written between 2010 and 2014.  During this time I also began work on what became eventually ‘Alive in World War Two’.  That was far bigger task than I’d  imagined at the start – as I’ve probably already said several times with varying degrees of pride and/or chagrin.  I slipped into this exercise by way of offering to type up a collection of family newsletters exchanged during the Second World War by a number of cousins.  Gradually I found myself wanting to serve up the collection in a digestible way for a wider readership than just the family.  Well, that’s now done.  I have no idea if there will be a wider readership or not.  I shall just let the book float away under its own steam.

Meanwhile, I’m off on a new tack: another novel with the working title ‘Greek Gold’.  Making the stuff up is the fun part, even while it is difficult enough however practised you are.  The production and sales are the hard grind.  Fortunately, I don’t feel the need to expend more energy in this direction than I already have.

I may post again, every so often.  Research will be the topic, probably …

At last – this book is about to become available as a paperback on Amazon.  It’s the reason I set up this website.  My aim was to go out into the virtual world, as best I could, and establish some kind of communication with potential readers.  Apart from the good friends on my contact list, I was doubtful if I’d manage to reach anyone unknown.  Nor did I expect to reach new readers with the publication of the two novels I’ve brought out with Createspace to pave the way for this non-fiction title.  Yet today I was thrilled to bits to see three reviews for ‘White Lies’ on Amazon.  Of course they may be by friends in disguise, but somehow I guess that “A’s Mum” and “Sally Woods” are dedicated book reviewers in their own right.  The “anonymous” first review may be a kind and supportive friend.  Will anyone own up?

Any feedback on these lines is much appreciated, particularly as I’ve been in the wilderness so long.  It became a bit pathetic to go back to reading glowing reviews from the 1970s to summon courage to continue writing.  How feeble could I get?  But now –  —  Michael Frayn, the support of good friends, and unknown reviewers —– I’m basking in the writerly equivalent of golden autumn sunshine.

While visiting an old schoolfriend in New England this past June, I found myself in a space ship with her and her three-year-old great-grandson.  There were chair legs and a blanket involved, and a script being created minute by minute by the film’s director.  Silas knew exactly what was happening and what we, the cast, were doing.  Scene changes were swift.  One moment we were approaching galaxy Z (don’t expect me to remember the plot) under the chairs; the next moment, we were firing missiles from the woodpile in the garden.  Diny and I in our late seventies kept up as best we could, despite shortness of breath induced not just by age but by our gamely-withheld laughter.  We were absolutely part of the story and in tune with its tension.

This morning, in an email to Diny, I wondered if and when I’ll cross the Atlantic again to have another wonderful play.  But by that time Silas may be too grown-up for such games, and we – and our limbs -too grown-down.

Have I coined a new expression?  First, we grow up.  Then – let’s say after middle-age – we begin to grow down, some of us more quickly than others.   Old age is a process of growing down, eventually and literally into the ground.  Let’s play while we can.

A kind of smog of condescending pity surrounds self-publishing, whether you call it vanity publishing or indie.  The assumption is that only not-very-good writers resort to such a course.  It’s true that a lot of poor stuff does get printed.  There’s no quality control in force.  But it’s also true that a lot of polished, skilful and entertaining novels are no longer taken on by mainstream publishers who favour big names or debut writers, as well as subject matter of very wide appeal.  Naturally enough, they need to make money, pay rent, hire editors.

I was never a big name.  I avoided publicity.  I lived on a Greek island, and barely knew what my agent was handling on my behalf back home.  In the 1990s, with seven novels, children’s books and a non-fiction book of natural history with Peter as illustrator stacked up behind me, I spent years training and practising as a counsellor.  When I returned to writing and enjoying fiction, I found I was back at the beginning, knocking on closed doors.

Now I’ve woken up to the reality of the situation.  It’s no good grumbling at rejection.  I’ve taken matters into my own hands.  It’s liberating.

But it does mean I have to do all the tedious work of checking for errors in the writing and then – worst of all – approaching the world with the news of publication.  Selling our wares is not the natural territory of writers.  I’ve been bludgeoning my contact list with self-advertising.  People once met, say on a New Zealand trek or in a New York hotel, are getting emails about the Amazon availability of ‘White Lies’ and ‘A Home from Home’.  I imagine them scratching their heads and asking: “Who on earth is this annoyingly importunate person shouting about their own books?”

When I started this website and these posts, I felt I was standing in the middle of the Sahara whistling to myself – that is, if I could whistle.  I never managed to learn, even when given intensive lessons by a fellow ten year old.  However, this kind of whistling is having results.  I really appreciate the comments that have come in so far.  Ring out the bells at this kind of encouraging contact between fellow writers.

Here’s a request.  If you are inclined to read “A Home from Home” which is now available on Amazon, please let me know what you think of it.

I’ve discovered another nifty feature of the Createspace programme. You can add the possibility for readers to respond to your book. This is the link to the place where a reader can give “A Home from Home” a review. https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1201160
I’ve posted some questions there, too.
It would be good to hear from readers – even if the response is negative, I say bravely.  Well, I should be able to take constructive criticism on the chin.

I don’t dare calculate how many hours, days, months I’ve spent through my writing life not on actually WRITING books but doing all the business attached to writing books. The only really satisfactory part, I find, comes about three-quarters of the way through a novel. By that time, I know it’s going to come good by the end. There’s still enough tension left to continue and make sure it does come good. And there’s a big pile of written pages on the desk to reassure me that the bulk is done. Apart from that patch of time, what else? Hours and hours, days and days of checking, re-checking, re-writing, fiddling, printing out, printing out again with alterations. THEN what?
In my early days, how easy it was: living in the Cyclades, far away from distractions and duties, hammering away in the mornings at a portable typewriter (underwater fishing for supper in the afternoons); then parcelling the typescript up and sending it off. With an eye on the title of this piece, I musn’t forget the years between the original writing of the first novel and the eventual publication and sale of film rights thanks to the agent I found through the art director of the Observer who’d liked my cartoons, recommended by our friend (as she still is!) Katharine Whitehorn, the Observer columnist (again, as she still is). I was lucky from then on. I didn’t have to do a thing to aid the publishers; minimal proof checking, no literary festival circuits. Heady days. I could just write. Seven novels followed, with two mis-shots inbetween.
THEN what? Years of writing, years of rejection. I try to think this has been very character-forming, in the way that Robinson Crusoe had a very good character by the time he was rescued. From my desert island of a study, I’ve been sending smoke signals up for longer than I am brave enough to state. Now I’ve freed myself from such a dismal task. It’s fun to get a book onto Createspace (perhaps they should pay me for all the testimonials I’m providing). But it is worrying, too, without a mainstream publisher behind you. The business of checking, re-checking, proofing, re-proofing takes ages. Then there’s all the kerfuffle of finding readers on your own bat. You suddenly have to become someone you are not: a self-publicity virago.
Once I’ve got my two recent novels and The Cousins’ Chronicle out there on Amazon, I will jump back into my burrow and start writing again. Can’t wait.

http://www.createspace.com/6463366 White Lies by Susan Barrett

I understand that the royalties are better on books sold through Createspace than they are on Amazon.  On the other hand, I reckon it’s easier to find titles on Amazon.

To my dismay I see that a very large number of other writers have trampled this path before me with the very same title.  There’s another Susan Barrett at work, too.  Should I start my writing life again with a new name?  If so, what would I choose?  That’s a tasty morsel of a thought for an idle moment: Hilda Prendergast comes immediately to mind.  What’s the betting that there are hundreds of Hilda P’s out there with a long list of novels to their mutual name.  Otherwise, why did it come to mind?  Go on, google her.