Showing posts with label Jodi Picoult. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jodi Picoult. Show all posts

SAME AGAIN, PLEASE?


Last week the papers seized on a story about certain best-selling novelists whose sales have fallen dramatically in the past year. Jodi Picoult and Marian Keyes are among them. Here’s The Independent’s take on it:

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/features/have-we-fallen-out-of-love-with-chick-lit-2361445.html

I don’t want to re-hash what the journalists are writing. But I find several things interesting about this story.

First, that women fiction writers are so often lumped together under the banner of chick-lit, whilst no mention was made at all of ‘lad-lit’ (does it still exist?) or, indeed, of the sales of any male writers.

Second, and leading on from this: what exactly is ‘chick-lit’? The universal (and often supercilious) answer appears to be novels with pastel covers adorned with stilettos, martini glasses, hearts and flowers – in which case, what are Jodi Picoult and Marian Keyes doing on the list?

Third, and leading on again: there seems to have been a recent trend among publishers who insist on creating ‘chick-lit’ style covers for a wide range of women’s fiction, regardless of content. A women’s fiction author recently made the headlines by leaving her publisher because of the way her novels were being portrayed by their covers.

A pattern begins to emerge. A sense of blanketing, of homogenisation. Of ‘more of the same.’

Publishers are running scared. It’s understandable. What with the economic climate, the rapidly changing environment of book-buying and reading and the rising costs of actually publishing books, let alone marketing them effectively, little wonder that publishers are becoming risk-averse. If you know that a celebrity autobiography is going to sell in shed-loads, then that’s what you’ll publish. If there’s a call for chick-lit (whatever that may be) then when you publish it you’ll make sure that it's easily identifiable across a crowded supermarket. Chick-lit (so called) has been ruling the roost, publishing-wise, for a decade or more, and publishers obviously want their best-selling authors to keep writing within a narrowly restricted range and to present that writing in a narrowly-restricted set of images.

Inevitably comes a backlash. I think it’s known as entropy. Eventually, trends will begin to turn, usually in the opposite direction. The focus on materialism which began in the 80s and resulted, perhaps, in the chick-lit trend, is losing ground. Already, as the article above mentions, there’s a turn away from materialism towards magic, spirituality and the fantastic. Is this a good thing? Yes, in the sense that it may break new ground. No, in the sense that the same thing is likely to happen all over again.

But wouldn't it be wonderful if books could be celebrated for their originality, their freshness and their difference? Wouldn't it be fabulous if genre and gender came second to sheer, brilliant story-telling? A dangerous notion.

Would love to hear your thoughts...

Life As We Know It...


Last week I did an interview with an online parenting magazine.
Well, Caitlin Moran had asked me to do a piece for the Sunday Times but a gal can have too much exposure. I suggested she contact Lady Ga Ga.

Anyways, I was answering the lovely Sue's questions on how I fit writing around my children - actually, I'm VERY careful about this one after a newspaper printed an article about me entitled 'Solicitor and Supermum.' A breach of trade description if ever there was one - when she asked if I might like to do a diary for them. A week-in-the-life of a writer.

Of course I agreed. It sounded easy and a great idea. Everyone always wants to know how we write and I hoover up the details of any author's schedule as if knowing that Jodi Picoult gets up at five will spur me to the same. For those interested, she does, and it doesn't.

Then I actually thought about it. And my heart sank. A week in the life of JK Rowling might be a whirlwind of book signings and speeches. A week in the life of Helen Black. Not so much.

So I thought I'd do a practise run. Maybe I'd suprise myself. So here it is. My week.

Monday - I spend two hours writing a scene in my sub plot. Very pleased. By the time I have taken a shower I know it's complete rubbish. I delete the scene.

Tuesday - My agent calls. He makes polite conversation skirting around the real issue which is when I will sub my WIP. I fudge. I spend the rest of the day writing in ferocious panic. Most of it is utter crap.

Wednesday - An email from my new editor. Can I send the synopsis of book five. She's lost her copy and wants to take it to a publisher in the States. I dig it out. It's rubbish. No one will ever want to read such a daft piece of tripe. I spend the rest of the day panicking about book five.

Thursday - I realise I must stop panicking about book five and write book four. I spend the day panicking about not having written anything the previous day.

Friday - I have the idea to set my next scene in a crack house. I'm pants at settings and this will be incredibly visual. I google 'crack house' and spend the next four hours weeping over videos of lives runined by drugs on youtube.

Saturday - the kids comandeer my laptop. They have exams so I daren't argue for fear of being a Bad Mother.

Sunday - the sun shines.

So there it is. In all it's boring glory. Suffice it to say, there is a very good reason why I do not blog alone.