Judging a book: what makes good writing?

On Monday I went to a discussion/debate event, called "Judging a book: what makes good writing?", that was part of Brighton Festival. The people on the panel were: author Sue Eckstein, Myriad's Editor Vicky Blunden, literary agent Hannah Westland, Books Quartely's editor Ed Wood, and creative writing tutor Greg Mosse.

All of them said they were looking for something exciting and orginal. Something with a distinctive voice. Greg Mosse said that one of the things you can't teach is how to find your voice ...

It seems to be easier to talk about what makes bad writing. The panel agreed that bad books tell too much. A good book leave things out. That writing is about cutting and editing.

I don't think there is an answer. Writing is deeply personal and everybody's got a personal taste therefore all judging is very subjective. An agent is not going to represent you if she/he doesn't love your writing. How can you present something to publishers that you don't believe in yourself? It doesn't matter if a voice is original if it doesn't speak to you.

The last book I read that really excited me was The Bird Room by Chris Killen. It was interesting to read the very mixed reviews on amazon. Some people like myself absolutely loved it, while others didn't get the point.

The Bird Room is a short novel written in a very clever way. I was in love with the so-called voice of the narrator from the first chapter. The way he looks at the world and how his claustrophobic feelings are described. If someone had told me that Killen's novel is about an insecure guy who messes up his relationship and gets obsessed by porn I would probably not read it, thinking it sounded quite pathetic. So why do I like it so much then? It must be that damn voice. The way it's written: the sparse but beautiful descriptions and the use of modern technology like email and text messages and even the occasional drawing. But again that's not to everybody's taste.

So what makes good writing? It's up to you!

The Noise of Strangers

The Noise of Strangers is not only the title of Robert Dickinson's debut novel, it's also the title you could give the past two days of my life.

The launch party itself was a noisy event populated by people whom I didn't know, but the almost unlimited free-flowing wine transformed strangers into friends. The party was hosted in a beautiful flat next to the British Museum and the place was so packed you could hardly move. As you could tell Robert was very happy and got to sign a few of his books and talk to his fans (yes friends do count). It was very rewarding to discuss the book with other people who've read it and it made me realise the novel is even more clever than I thought ... The so-called "Scoomers" who cruise the streets in their battered Fiats is short for "Moulsecoombers" which is veyr funny if you live in Brighton and know that Moulsecoomb is a bit of a problem area.

The Noise of Strangers is for sale in Waterstones in Brighton and on Thursday night, 6pm, Robert will do a reading and book signing at Jubilee Library in Brighton. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to speak to the other debut Myriad writers Ed Hillyer and Tom Connolly, but they'll also do readings at Jubilee Library this spring. I would've liked a reading yesterday, but there was too much noise and not enough space ...

Now, back to the title. I stayed at a hostel in London last night and it was a bit of an eerie experience ... I didn't see any of the other guests, but I did hear them ... The noise of strangers indeed. Tonight I'm in Gothenburg and I've upgraded. The hotel me and the other writers who are here for the Gothenburg Literature week are staying in is well soundproofed. It was only when I went into the spa and sauna that I could hear (but not see) the presence of strangers ... Maybe I need to go down to the bar and socialise and find out who the other writers are, but I need a clear head. I'm doing three book talks at a school tomorrow, and the free wine from yesterday is still affecting me ...

To Do-List, Book Launch & Book Festival

I had 11 things on my "to-do"-list today and I've done them all, apart from writing this blog post. Among other things I edited a short story, GINA'S LOVER, and sent it off to the Glasswoman Prize, proof-read my brother's course application and finished a poem for a friend's wedding. I'm proud that I did so well despite having a hangover from the burlesque club Trailer Trash last night and distracting myself with a walk through St Ann's Wells Garden and down to the seafront, having a cup of tea with Sky at Babylon Lounge.

Tomorrow I'm going to a book launch party in London. The publisher Myriad is celebrating their spring editions, and one of them is The Noise of Strangers by Robert Dickinson. I'm very excited as Robert is one of the guys who's given me feedback on REPLACING ANGEL. He kindly gave me a copy of his debut novel, and I read it a few weeks ago. It's a future dystopia set in Brighton and takes the piss out of civil servants. Well worth reading if you want to have a laugh about bureaucracy. It's also interesting the way Robert has mixed the narrative of the different characters with transcripts of dialogue at meetings, emails and newspaper reports.

I'm spending the night in London as I'm leaving from Heathrow early Tueday morning to go to a Book Festival in Gothenburg, Sweden. Another thing on my list was to rehearse the talk(s) I'm going to do at a school, and make sure my PowerPointPresentation is up to date. I always feel a bit weird talking to myself in front of a pretend audience, but the photographs on my door of some friends helped.

With the daffodils being in full bloom in Brighton it will feel like time travelling going to Sweden. I just hope the snow and ice will be gone ...

Time Management

I want to have time to:
*read trashy novels for pure pleasure
*read classics and understand them
*paint my nails twice a week
*use teeth plackers
*write letters
*listen to a whole CD album and read the lyrics

I thought I'd have time to do these things, now that I've finished my novel, Replacing Angel, and sent it off to agents. But funnily enough it seems like I've got LESS time when I'm not working on a particular project...

I become more organised when I write; my life has a structure and I feel focused. Now I'm drifting like a discarded water bottle in the sea. Do I have a message inside me? I don't know. When I shuffled my iTunes to start writing this blog post the first song that started playing was Lou Reed's "There's no time"! My message to myself and everyone else is that you have to make time for things - if you don't you'll drift to a distant shore of a desert island where there's nobody to pick you up ...

Despite all this drifting I've had the first really productive day for about a week.
*I washed my clothes
*Re-wrote Steal from the rich and give to the poor, a short story that I wrote a year ago, and sent it off to a couple of people for feedback (am planning to submit it to SPARKS - a short fiction night)
*Worked on a poem for a friend's wedding
*Booked a night at a hostel in London as I need to stay there on my way to a literature festival in Gothenburg at the end of March (and in London I'll attend a launch party for 3 Myriad novelists)
*Wrote a very short postcard and posted it
*Power-walked along the seafront and did some food shopping on the way back
*Went through my writing workshop "It's raining words"(that I'm doing at Hove Library next Monday) with my friend Sophie
*Made some notes and prepared stuff for the workshop
*Booked a train ticket to London (£3 advance on the national rail website)
*Printed Google maps of parts of London and Gothenburg

And now ... it's 10 pm and I've been up for 13 hours, and the only real leisure time I've had was when I had breakfast and read Patricia Highsmith's Carol. I don't feel sorry for myself. I designed this day (made a list before going to bed last night) and am very happy and grateful that I achieved so much. It's a mystery though that there's a still a pile of socks and knickers on my bed waiting to be sorted out after being in the tumble dryer ... Hopefully I'll get to bed before midnight.