Picture this – or rather me - last week, swimming in an idyllic cove (see photo) along one of the quieter parts of the Southern French coast. The sea had emptied due to an approaching (or so it seemed) evening thunderstorm. I marvelled at the distant forks of lightning, whilst my children swam out further to rock-pool. They had worked out an ingenious way of transporting their fishing nets by wearing the luminous net as a cap, as the long wooden handles rode the waves, trailing down along their backs. Struggling with the increasing depth of the water, my youngest eventually passed me his rod and I wore it in the same style as I swam out. The locals looked on in amusement.
Yet they had probably already chuckled. On unpacking my beach bag I’d discovered to my annoyance, that I’d forgotten my bikini bottoms. My husband had passed me his spare Speedos, insisting I’d look okay. Desperate for a swim I obliged, grinning as I came over all Daniel Craig and strutted into the brine in said swimming trunks.
Then whilst treading water as I chatted with my dad, something suddenly struck me, and our hoots of laughter echoed around the bay as I broadcast an imaginary – but perfectly feasible - newspaper headline:
“WASHED UP ON FRENCH BEACH, ENGLISH WOMAN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING, DRESSED IN MALE SPEEDOS, WITH A FISHING NET JAMMED OVER HER HEAD.”
You see, life really is stranger than fiction, yet so often we are told by agents or editors that something in our work isn’t realistic enough. Are they joking?!
Take my last book. One agent couldn’t accept in the main premise of a woman getting pregnant and not realizing until she gave birth. Yet fairly regularly I read about this phenomenon in some newspaper and often it’s a sensible, mature women going into hospital with stomach ache and coming home with an unexpected little one. And in any event, isn’t fiction all about escapism? There’s no rule, is there, that says a fictional work outside the genres of Science Fiction or Fantasy has to be totally based on reality?
Take my present book, a kind of chick lit Past Life Regression to Ancient Egypt – isn’t this just one step further on from the array of Women’s Fiction books out there inviting the average woman to escape into the impossibly unreal world of New York or Parisian romance and glamour?
Whilst I strive to base the emotional life of my characters on real feelings, so that it comes across as credible and gains empathy from the readers, I feel us writers should be cut some slack when it comes to plot. Life is strange and fiction should be allowed to reflect this. Who’s to say someone can’t be gobsmacked by unexpectedly giving birth? Who’s to say Past Life Regression is all guff? And does any of this really matter in the more straight-laced genres, as long as the story has an effective hook and the characters’ personal journey seems believable?
So next time someone reads your work and says ‘but that wouldn’t happen in real life’, hold back and think hard before you change a word. I reckon my French beach headline could double as the perfect opening for a murder mystery novel…
Yet they had probably already chuckled. On unpacking my beach bag I’d discovered to my annoyance, that I’d forgotten my bikini bottoms. My husband had passed me his spare Speedos, insisting I’d look okay. Desperate for a swim I obliged, grinning as I came over all Daniel Craig and strutted into the brine in said swimming trunks.
Then whilst treading water as I chatted with my dad, something suddenly struck me, and our hoots of laughter echoed around the bay as I broadcast an imaginary – but perfectly feasible - newspaper headline:
“WASHED UP ON FRENCH BEACH, ENGLISH WOMAN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING, DRESSED IN MALE SPEEDOS, WITH A FISHING NET JAMMED OVER HER HEAD.”
You see, life really is stranger than fiction, yet so often we are told by agents or editors that something in our work isn’t realistic enough. Are they joking?!
Take my last book. One agent couldn’t accept in the main premise of a woman getting pregnant and not realizing until she gave birth. Yet fairly regularly I read about this phenomenon in some newspaper and often it’s a sensible, mature women going into hospital with stomach ache and coming home with an unexpected little one. And in any event, isn’t fiction all about escapism? There’s no rule, is there, that says a fictional work outside the genres of Science Fiction or Fantasy has to be totally based on reality?
Take my present book, a kind of chick lit Past Life Regression to Ancient Egypt – isn’t this just one step further on from the array of Women’s Fiction books out there inviting the average woman to escape into the impossibly unreal world of New York or Parisian romance and glamour?
Whilst I strive to base the emotional life of my characters on real feelings, so that it comes across as credible and gains empathy from the readers, I feel us writers should be cut some slack when it comes to plot. Life is strange and fiction should be allowed to reflect this. Who’s to say someone can’t be gobsmacked by unexpectedly giving birth? Who’s to say Past Life Regression is all guff? And does any of this really matter in the more straight-laced genres, as long as the story has an effective hook and the characters’ personal journey seems believable?
So next time someone reads your work and says ‘but that wouldn’t happen in real life’, hold back and think hard before you change a word. I reckon my French beach headline could double as the perfect opening for a murder mystery novel…
