Fran Caldwell's Notebook...One Writer's View

My New Novel-in-Progress - "A Kind of Winnowing" by Fran Caldwell

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Tue, 19 Oct 2021 22:26:00 +0000

That's not my picture, although I would have loved it as a cover. I could find no source for this online, but I'm grateful for the chance to use it here. It's obviously a very old, classical painting. Shame I don't know who painted it. I just hope I can do it justice when I do the art for my cover.

"Winnowing": to remove (as chaff) by a current of air;
to get rid of something undesirable or unwanted;
(winnow) out certain inaccuracies;
(winnowing) what is true and significant;
to distinguish valuable people or things from worthless ones

The weird thing about writing, I've found, is that most of the creative work isn't done sitting at a computer. Although I've acknowledged this for years, it's particularly obvious with this latest book. Computer work is the tidying, the proofing, tweaking the layout. The ideas are born elsewhere---often in unusual places. Having lunch with a friend, for instance, and she notices my glazed stare at nothingness. I don't have to explain; she knows me well. I'm writing.

New characters, persistent dialogue, that perfect, fine-sounding word, new thinking about the actual structure---it all comes at me out of the blue. I can be in the middle of cooking, eating, showering (and during all the associated bathroom things), or trying to sleep---and it sweeps over me. During the day, I rush to the computer, or grab my notebook to make almost ineligible scribbles, but it can be very irritating when I've just turned the light out at night. Yes, I curse, as I roll out of bed, but I don't mean it. How lucky am I to be able to write at all?

This new book is based on a huge diamond heist that takes place in London in 1972, but it's set in the present, the aftermath of that robbery now threatening the quiet life of a grandson of one of the thieves, and others in his life. Millions of pounds-worth of diamonds were never recovered when the thieves were arrested, and Alistair is faced with the fact that some unsavoury type wants to claim them and believes he might know where they are. Who's after Alistair, and what can he possibly know fifty years after The Club of Diamonds job?

The characters are complex, multi-generational, and the London/Bristol dialogue is demanding, but that's fun for me. Learning about every facet (forgive the pun) of diamond quality was an eye-opener. Who knew there were such variances in value?

I'm well into a third of the book, but had to take a break. Some of the writing is a bit dark, and I'm taking a breather from it. It's violent in parts, and I have to deal with that, but there's humour, too, and romance, of course. While I'm lying low, avoiding the necessary confrontations that are due to happen, I have dismissed all prompting from the wings, allowing no new dialogue, etcetera, to invade my usual day (or night) thoughts. It seemed to be working.

Yet, out of the blue again, I had to write this post. What's that about?

eBook Version of "Hafan Deg" Available Now.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Mon, 20 Sep 2021 23:18:00 +0000

So the "Hafan Deg"' eBook went live before the paperback, which could take another couple of weeks. You can read the first few chapters--"Look Inside". I'm not sure when other distributors will carry this, but probably also another couple of weeks. I'll let you know, of course.

And, for your interest, I'm back working on my fifth novel, now renamed "A Kind of Winnowing." Had to take my mind off the stress of publishing "Hafan Deg".

Feeling a lot better this morning, thank you, all.

Update September 23 -- Paperback is ready now. Thought that some of you might prefer a real book in your hands. I know I do.

Final Edit of "Hafan Deg" Paperback Proof

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Sun, 19 Sep 2021 04:35:00 +0000

It's done. I've approved it for publication. I'm quite exhausted. But after working on this book, on and off, for so many years, it's on its own. Like another kid off to college...

I found 56 errors---23 of them were mysteriously-vanished quotation marks, periods, etc. I proofread the MS so many times, it doesn't seem possible that I missed so many, but my excuse is that the writing sometimes drew my attention away from the immediate task at hand. I found myself reading sections that involved me too much, all over again, and forgot what I was there for: looking for errors! This tidy-up work, after all, is meant to be done by a superior and dispassionate professional---The Editor. It's hard playing two roles.

I know there will be more weird things in the final paperback, insignificant enough that perhaps no one will notice. I'll curse a bit, when I see them, but I'll let them go. I'll think of them as hand-crafters' flaws -- the little imperfections in original art that make them all the more unique.

Will let you know when the book is available.

"Hafan Deg -- Safe Harbour" is at the Printers!

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Wed, 15 Sep 2021 05:06:00 +0000

After constantly referring to it over the years, I finally finished my fourth and most demanding novel and it's at the printers now. I don't recall feeling so emotionally drained by my three earlier books. Hafan Deg was both a joy-ride and a slightly obsessive journey. But it's done. If you write, you'll guess what I've just been through.

Once I'd PDFd the manuscript to the printers, I swore I would get straight back into that London crime novel I was working on -- remember Winnowing? Thought it would take my mind off things, didn't I? It didn't, and I had to put it aside for now. Until I've (corrected?) approved that printer's proof copy of Hafan Deg, I can't think about anything else.

I'll let you know when the new book is released -- figure early October, unless there are some serious issues.

Here's the brief back cover blurb, for your interest. It could change, of course. Not much room to get too eloquent there.

Karen Miles is a successful London book editor, a single mother in her late fifties. She seems to have it all, good income, beautiful West London apartment, regular travel, two adult children she is proud of, and the occasional man. She appears in control, confident, yet she is deeply unhappy, unresolved issues from the past re-emerging. As her days become more deadening, she acknowledges that this is not life; this is merely existence. A derelict house, 'Hafan Deg', in North Wales, where she and the children vacationed many years earlier, becomes the catalyst for her transformation. A touching and sometimes irreverent study of an older woman's struggle for reconnection and validation.

Talk again soon.

Confession: Those comments I never received? Kept nagging you about it? My comments folder was full. I had never deleted one in the fourteen years I've been here. Today I deleted over 500 and the comments box works again. My sincere apologies for being such a twit.

Brazen Promotion of an Earlier Work - The Attic

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Thu, 15 Jul 2021 04:11:00 +0000

I know it's been a few months since I posted, but I've been torn (again) between editing and writing my two manuscripts, "Winnowing" and "Hafandeg" (which was also renamed briefly as "Place of Dreams"). I think of scenes and dialogue for both of them at the most inopportune moments, usually as I'm trying to go sleep, or even - really! - cleaning out the cat litter tray. They both want to be published, I know. Somehow, one of them will take control. I'll let you know when that happens. I really intend to publish at least one of them this year.

Meanwhile, I re-read "The Attic" (which I so enjoyed writing) the other day. My sister, who inspired that book, died last year, but she was near me, I felt, during that reading. What a life she had! How much of her did I really capture in the novel? She loved it, but did point out, rather crossly, that she was a virgin when she married. I laughed, and said it was a fictionalized biography, that the spicy bits are expected with contemporary novels. I think she voiced a distinct "Hurumph" at that.

Anyway, brazen or not, I've popped the details of The Attic here for you. Perhaps you'll "hurumph" at my audacity. Who do I think I am, promoting a novel that came out eight years ago? But good books never age, do they? I still re-read oldies like "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" on a regular basis. I identify strongly with Francie. No comparison in subject matter, readability - or profitability - between me and Betty Smith, in fact, but I think we would have been friends.

I must thank Sarahbeth Purcell for her lovely review. I think she's a better writer than I am, incidentally, although her books are edgier than mine. I envy her that.

Until next time. Stay safe.

PS - I think Hafan Deg might be the major player this year. Can't stop writing it in my head.

FREE eBook "Summer Must End"

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Wed, 17 Mar 2021 22:47:00 +0000

Best Book Monkey with all the links.

This is big for me. I have nothing else to say.

FREE eBook 'Summer Must End"

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Sun, 14 Mar 2021 04:45:00 +0000

It's taken a lot of admin work, something that no longer comes easily to me, but "Summer Must End" now has free eBooks.

All sounds so simple, doesn't it? You have no idea how many weeks it's taken, particularly with Amazon, to achieve this.

My new friend, Shea Oliver, at Best Book Monkey, has been inspiring. I don't think I could have managed this without him. Thank you, Shea.

Now no one has an excuse not to read about Mel and her crazy country life, do they?

When you do, please let me know what you think here or (better!) leave a review at the sales site.

You Can't Skip Chapters Even if You Don't Enjoy All of It.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Tue, 29 Dec 2020 00:47:00 +0000

I stole this from someone on Facebook. I'm sure she won't mind, and I will let her know of the theft.

If you think of Life as a book, this makes such sense. "You won't enjoy all of it." But the in-between bits are so worth the read. Treasure ALL of your story. No flinching.

Speaking of Life as a story, one of my sons has asked me to do a detailed history of the wildly adventurous and outrageous men on his father's side of the family, going back almost two hundred years, spanning the globe. He completed the research some years ago, producing a large and informative description of the lives of Great-Great-Grandfather down to his own father, but believes it deserves a more lively and writerly version --- you know, humanizing the dates and places. These men were certainly not paragons of virtue --lovable scoundrels, if I am kind, irresponsible cads, if I'm less kind. It seems to have been a genetic thing, or at the very least the nurture effect, as they all seem to have shared the same moral code. I wonder if my skill is up to doing justice to them, considering my son's description:

"Would you read a book about a Victorian middle-class family (The Cremers), whose seven sons strike out around the Empire to four continents, facing trials and tribulations, shipwrecks, cannibals, three wars, a Gold Rush, a South American revolution, mystery deaths and a young runaway who travels the world?"

(And don't forget abandoned wives and children on the way. Stories in themselves.)

These men were not average, but risk-takers, talented in the Arts, bold and adventurous in all they did. They seem to have wanted to leave their mark. I still don't know how I feel about them, but their stories were never, ever boring, and certainly deserve to be told in a reader-friendly, entertaining way.

Along with writing "Winnowing", which I'm determine to publish in 2021, I'll give my all to this Cremer epic. I'll let you know how I'm progressing with it.

Almost forgot to say that I received my first royalty payment for "Summer Must End" for November sales. It was exciting, even as it was only enough to buy a posh coffee or two. I am not complaining, really. If we thought we were doing this for the money, we'd be unbalanced. I am forever pragmatic and balanced.

Have a Happy New Year, all. Let's put this nasty one firmly behind us.

"Summer Must End" New Novel by Fran Caldwell - Paperback at Amazon and eBook.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Mon, 23 Nov 2020 07:05:00 +0000

"Summer Must End" Paperback available here

eBook here

Feeling Sad. Last Novel is on Its Own. Like Your Kid Going Off to College.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Fri, 20 Nov 2020 07:00:00 +0000

I knew I would feel sad. I've been through this before. We talk about our books as if they are our babies, struggling for lives of their own. The process can be difficult, frightening, although eventually rapturous. We persevered. We nurtured them to completion, to a kind of maturity. And then we have to send them off to find their own way. Summer Must End has graduated.

"Summer Must End" Available Here

There are three of them out there now. I must admit to constant checking-in on them. A bit obsessive, really, but after years of working on each of them, you need to know what they're up to, without being too obvious about it. At some point, I'll stop and just wait to hear back about Royalties. I can always obsess again later if I don't hear back.

In the meantime, the novel-in-waiting, "Hafan Deg" is firmly on the backburner. I wanted to release it this year, but it just isn't doing it for me. It's not that it's a bad story, but I have changed. Just as we wrote angst-filled poems as teenagers (well, I did), so a story about an aging woman's reinvention of herself only spoke to me when I was doing the re-inventing. I'm on a different path now. It can wait a little longer. My new book, "Winnowing" has been taking up a lot of my thinking time.

Here's a tiny blurb, because we can't reveal too much at this stage.

Megan is an editor for a tiny boutique publishing house in London. She is particularly jaded with the local dating scene, and has more or less decided to give the whole thing a miss for a while. Until she meets Alistair Clarke, a young poet her boss has decided to publish. He is neither attractive nor fascinating, but she appreciates his talent and is intrigued by his shyness and reticence. She gradually learns more of his background, and is determined to promote him as fully as possible, falling in love with him in the process. Sinister people begin asking oddly personal questions about him, and she worries, pressuring him about it, dissatisfied with his response.

When Alistair disappears, she becomes frantic. The only address she has for him is in Wood Green, London, but he hasn't been seen there for weeks. The police are ambivalent. 'Too early to formally report it', they tell her. But then, in his folder of work, left at the office, she discovers a council bill for a property near Shepton Mallet, in Somerset. She has come to love this small, strange man. It's up to her to find out what's going on, isn't it? No one else seems concerned. Megan is driven; she has never been in love before.

Talk to you soon. Perhaps you'll tell me what you think of this new novel. Comment below.

Third Novel Published, and Starting on the Fifth. The Fourth is Resting Quietly.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Sat, 14 Nov 2020 05:10:00 +0000

"Summer Must End" -- the paperback -- is published. (EBook was launched three days ago.) As it's via a European print company, I see my purchase price from them in Euros, which makes me feel quite grand and Monte-Carlo-ish. But, wherever you are, it will make no difference to delivery times or pricing -- from Toronto to Tenerife -- it's as if the printer is just around the corner, as if we live in one unified and all-embracing world. That's got to be good, if not a touch over-optimistic. It was only put to bed last night, so I don't know when the retailer information will be forthcoming, but you know I'll pass that on to you as soon as I can.

If you will go to my website, you will see the wonderful animation A.C.Merkel did for my book cover promotion. It's so pretty, I'm thinking of adding music to it...perhaps Clair de Lune. A.C. is so creative, a writer himself, along with having the graphics talent. I am trying to think up other ways I can incorporate his art, but perhaps he'll just have to wait for my next book (early next year).

Unfortunately I can't seem to download it here, but my updated website is worth looking at anyway. Every single link I could think of is there, but without over-cluttering (I hope), or confusing the poor viewer. I'm sure you've experienced that same overkill when you've opened a site that's so over the top, you get a kind of brain freeze. And click out of it. If it lets you...

I joined up with IAN --Independent Author Network-- and they made a very presentable job of my author listing, showing all of my novels. Very impressed. Might get some sales from this one, or at least some reviews.

Speaking of which, as I cannot know who buys my books (unless they tell me), I cannot wag my digital finger at them and ask why they haven't reviewed it (whichever book). So I politely, but urgently, ask you now...if you should read something of mine, please leave a little feedback at that sales site. It's not just that we writers are insecure, and in need of the affirmation, but many marketing companies won't even consider your work unless you have reviews. Just saying.

I've started seriously working on the new book. I know it's serious because I can spend twelve hours working on it, not wanting to go to bed, That's intense. It's entitled "Winnowing" - a reference to the old farming method of separating the grain from the chaff, by tossing it up and allowing air to pass through it,

Winnowing: to remove (as chaff) by a current of air; to get rid of something undesirable or unwanted; (winnow) out certain inaccuracies, (winnowing) what is true and significant; to free of unwanted or inferior elements.

Miriam-Webster

"To get rid of something undesirable or unwanted..." Hmm, sounds like someone in this book is going to be meeting his/her maker a little sooner than expected.

The story is tentatively set in London and the West Country (in a tiny cottage). Everything is tentative at this stage. Until I have my closing line, it will remain uncertain.

I had mentioned getting Hafan Deg on the road. I am still working on this. The MS is finished, but I am so exhausted from all the edits and formatting for Summer Must End, that I really need to take a break. I do intend to publish it next year, after I've recuperated.

Your comments seemed to stop around the time I left Canada. They have only just kicked in again. I recall that I almost stopped blogging entirely for the longest time because I was overwhelmed by the changes in my life. So I'm thinking it's probably all my fault if you had nothing much to comment on. I'm sorry. I so look forward to hearing from you. We've been hanging around together for twelve years!

Until next time.

Summer Must End - eBook Available November 11, 2020

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Tue, 27 Oct 2020 23:47:00 +0000

This is a terrible thing to admit to. I don't care for eBooks. I like the feel of a good, old-fashioned book in my hands, the look of it, the crispness of new pages, especially the smell of it. But folks these days like the convenience of an eBook. So I've produced one, especially for them. And please don't think that the process is easy. The atmosphere around here was decidedly blue a lot of the time as I battled with it.

It's not available until November 11, around the same time as the print version, so it's your choice.

Preorder eBook Summer Must End

I love this story. Of course, a writer would say that, but this has a timely significance to it. I lived in the area where this book is set, and it's a lovely place. I left there just over ten years ago, and I miss it still. With my family scattered globally, I move around a lot. Just trying to explain why I'm still not living in Canada. It's Australia's turn.

I'm a little lost now that both versions of this book have been finalized, so it's time to set up the print format of 'Hafan Deg' (not 'Place of Dreams' as one agent wanted it titled). Hafan Deg is Welsh for Safe Harbor, and is set in Anglesey. That's one of the most beautiful places in the world. Hope I do it justice.

Latest Book, "Summer Must End", Available Soon.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Thu, 22 Oct 2020 02:10:00 +0000

I'm a terrible blogger. Sometimes I'm here. Sometimes I'm not. If you're still following me, thank you. You are truly patient and I never forget about you, even when I don't post a blog.

Thing is, when I'm either painting or writing, plus doing all the other day-to-day stuff needed around the house, there is so little time. You know that. You probably goof off from things that need your attention, too. But I always say I will to do better, and I mean it at the time. This fiction writing business is very time-consuming, and it's not just the sitting down at your computer and pouring your soul out. I mean the "business" side of things -- the marketing, promotion, email lists, BookBub, Booksprout, AllAuthor, Bookbrush, Booksweeps, bookfunnel, StoryOrigin, BookTuber, SilverDagger-BookTours-- and these are just the few that Victoria Jayne recently suggested. I have another list of my own in development.

The reason I'm blogging today is because my novel, "Summer Must End", will be available soon, finally released to the general fiction-reading public world-wide, through the usual outlets. Sounds like a best-seller, doesn't it, introducing it that way? But you all know how hard it is to find readers. I'm still waiting for them to find the other two books that were published a few years ago. A few reviews, or a couple of hearts, would be delightful. I'm not getting any younger...just saying.

It's a nice, suspenseful story, aimed at women who no longer consider themselves chicks--a lot of us out there, of course. I've included a link to the first chapter, just enough to whet your appetite. Just click First Chapter

Jacket Blurb (Still working on it)

Melanie Dwyer has had serious disappointments to deal with lately—she’s lost her job and her lover moved out. Over the hill, is she? Buying an old house, miles from nowhere, with the idea of running a bed and breakfast, might be considered an impulsive decision, but she is undaunted, figuring this is her last chance to prove her true calling: Taking care of people.

Along with the usual country education—raising chickens, adopting barn cats, getting a dog, plus a sheep called Marilyn, she makes friends with people who have far more interesting stories to tell than most city folk she’s known. And she discovers that it’s not too late for sex, even love.

There is unexpected violence, too, something she is familiar with herself, but it won’t shape this new life. No one messes with Mel—not now that she’s found herself. And who said country life was boring?

Before I close, I want to share a lovely poem written by a dear English relative, Sheila Richards. It's a nice way to close, gentle and inspiring as it is. She's another (like me) painter/writer and the illustration is her own. Thank you, Sheila. You've poshed up my blog.

Until next time. Should be able to point you to the novel's actual availability.

Free eBook for download, Toronto mystery/suspense "Uncharacteristic Behaviour" by Fran Caldwell

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Mon, 16 Jul 2018 00:33:00 +0000

My second novel, "Uncharacteristic Behaviour", set in Toronto, is now available as a free eBook for a limited period.

If you can spare some time to both read it AND leave a review, I would be most grateful.

Nothing else to report, except it is ridiculously cold here (under 0 Celsius at 6 am) and we are just not used to it.

Stay warm, or cool, depending on your location...

I have a new website! Links to everything art and writing.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Sat, 07 Jul 2018 05:20:00 +0000

It took a day or so to do and much muttering and moaning, but I've a new website that links to everything related to my art and writing.

https://francaldwellstudio.wixsite.com/mysite-1

The old one was so tired after almost ten years, and I finally decided it was time for a change.

I would so appreciate your comments about it.

In a few days, the eBook of "Uncharacteristic Behaviour" will be downloadable free in the hope of gaining some reviews. I'll let you know when it's available.

Just an aside about something that has been such a worry, and which definitely affected my urge to write or paint. My cat, Baby, is eating again.

The Beautiful First Draft and Its Travail Through Self-Publishing

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Thu, 21 Jun 2018 01:00:00 +0000

Obliged to write, for we have no choice in the matter, we impart the idea that it's fairly easy. We love what we do, after all. It's not that the writing is difficult -- on a good day, the words flow so effortlessly and that makes us very happy. For me, it takes around two years to write a book -- one of them took five. I don't rush things and I enjoy the process. When I get goosebumps reading the ending, I know I'm onto something good. I feel triumphant. This is the fun part of writing.

But then we have to put on our editor/proofreader hat and the real work begins. With the initial flush of success over, the manuscript has become your enemy. It's waiting for you every time you pass your laptop. It whispers to you that there is probably another year of editing, proofreading, re-structuring ahead, and you'll never be able to stop making corrections which will grow and grow the more you get into the manuscript, and you'll need sudden re-writes at Chapter 19 or 20 that will change the whole idea, in which case you could need a new title.

You make it through to the end without losing your sanity and get a couple of friends to read it (certainly not able to hire a professional at this point, but you trust their avid-reader skills). One or two minor changes after that, and it's done.

Isn't it?

But we are self-publishing, aren't we? It's now time to become a printer. In this day and age it means re-formatting the whole book into a digital thing -- unrecognizable from the well-groomed MS on your hard drive. It is a bit of a torture at this stage. You do as you're told according to the instructions at your print site, but you have no real idea what you're doing. It takes ages. A little aside here -- when you've spent two years writing, more months editing, by the time you get back to the formatting thing that you did for your last book, you've completely forgotten how to do it. Just saying.

The new format, including the intro pages, ISBN (which you must obtain), index, chapter page numbers, is finally sent to your print-site. The robot at the other end digests everything you sent and either rejects pieces of it, or all of it, or offers a print copy (which you must buy) for you to proofread again. Things happen during the robot's digestive processes, and you'll be surprised what oddities have now occurred.

You fix them, uttering newly-acquired Anglo-Saxon words as you go. Back it goes to Robot. If you're lucky that's it. Your latest version of the book is now ready to be sold. (Which is a whole other story, where you learn about Marketing.) In my case, it took three submissions (and the purchase of three books) before Robot's version was acceptable. I won't say perfect. One friend found one or two more tiny errors. Robot did that, not me. My versions were absolutely perfect.

Last, you are going to need to offer an eBook. There are no excuses. It's essential. This means you're going to have to learn how to re-format your print version into yet another digital language. You'll manage. And on the way you'll discover a whole new vocabulary of curse-words. It could change your writing style for the future, which could be a good thing,

I'm at the "getting-MS-ready-for-first-submission-to-Robot" stage with my "Summer Must End" novel. I've made a deal with myself to work at it 3 days a week, and paint two days. The painting is such sweet relief.

Until next time.

Writers Who Paint

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Fri, 15 Jun 2018 07:56:00 +0000

It's been over four years since I last posted here. Perhaps you thought I wouldn't be back.

After my last post, I totally dedicated myself to completing my third novel. It had been stewing around, more or less finished, but it didn't feel absolutely right. My heart wasn't quite in it. There was more to say and I didn't have the words.

It has a working title of "Summer Must End". But that wasn't what I really wanted. Without a true, illustrative title, I just couldn't prepare the MS for publication. (Well, that was my excuse for avoiding it.) And so it has been dozing (or comatose) in my hard drive for four years, waiting to be completed. In the meantime, for two of those years, I painted. That took away some of my guilt.

Then I goofed off completely for the last two years. No writing, no painting. I was a slug. I felt like a cheat. But World Affairs did it to me. Until I took charge of me and threw myself, as they say, into my work...which isn't work when you're loving it.

Boadicea is back.

My full explanation for my absence is offered at my art blog, posted on Monday. I cleared the air. I felt better for writing it. I believe it's the way a lot of us are feeling.

And with nice new paintings listed on a great art sales site, I knew the drought was over for me. I've been bouncing out of bed in the morning, planning my next painting or working on one from the day before. And then, today, a very strange thing happened.

I needed to write again.

Finally I've resurrected that poor novel and started the terrible task of formatting it for printing. I'm editing like crazy as I go, adding/amending things I've thought of during my non-writing time -- some on little slips of paper, some as notes in my computer.

There is a prepared canvas waiting for me to start -- and I want to start. This time, instead of getting into some sort of seasonal mode -- painting through winter, writing through summer -- I'm going to share them on a regular basis. Painting does stimulate the writing. It's writing without words. As I paint, I have little stories running through my head about the picture. "Why is she there? Who lives in that cottage? Where are those sheep going?" That kind of thing.

Bouncing out of bed in the morning will never be the same.

Now the only thing I have to concentrate on, before I complete that darned manuscript, is getting the right title. I promise I will keep you posted. When I know, you'll know.

It would be so rewarding if you would leave a comment about my re-emergence. (It would also be a good way to find out if the comments button actually works after all this time.)

"Uncharacteristic Behaviour" Second Novel Published

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Wed, 05 Feb 2014 07:05:00 +0000

And so I've published my second novel, an urban mystery, "Uncharacteristic Behaviour". The idea for this book has been with me for a very long time.

Decades ago, in Sydney, there was a huge public protest against the demolition of some fine Victorian houses in Potts Point, to make way for a monster (it seemed then) apartment building. People chained themselves to railings, squatted in the few vacated houses, crowds clashed with police, and there was even a strong suggestion that one woman activist, who disappeared at the time, had come to a violent end.

At the time, caught up in my own life, trying to raise three children as a single mother and hold down a fairly demanding job at the ABC, I spent little time considering the seriousness of the situation. I hated what I heard on the news, was fired up from afar (in fact, I lived quite close by), but did not become involved. These were passionate, radical, somewhat intimidating people, these "counter-culture" activists, and I was a closet protester, safe in my own world.

Needless to say, the houses came down, and the apartment (which I later lived in!) went up, and stands today, a monument to urban developers everywhere.

Then, not too long after, strange as it seems, I found myself living in an apartment house in Toronto on a street where the same thing was happening! People chained themselves to the railings, squatted in empty houses, angrily gathered and marched with their placards. It was deja vu.

In fact, this was a long term battle that had really started in the 60s. It took a long time to redevelop an area as large as this one. That earlier complex is still considered the largest redevelopment of its kind in North America, housing between 17,000 and 25,000 (nobody knows for sure...) residents. By the time I was there, the developers were buying up and demolishing beautiful historic houses on the south side of my street, and the protests continued. With the help of a major civic activist, who went on to become the Mayor of Toronto (which campaign I did get involved with), the new high rise expansion was cancelled. Housing co-operatives were later built on the sites of the demolished houses.

My novel only involves one small street. The word "gentrification" applies to it because the planners' idea was to make the area more up-market, more refined, classier...whatever. This certainly doesn't describe the Toronto apartment complex, although the Sydney apartment building is apparently desirable, even if only for the spectacular views, I think. But the rest of the street probably looks much the same as it did in the 1900s - minus a few fine old terrace houses, of course.

I'm getting too old to be running around the streets with banners and placards. Writing Letters to the Editor is no longer the way to go. So what did I do to voice my feelings about frivolous destruction of historic buildings? I wrote a novel.

Paperback at Lulu now, but shortly at Amazon, and there is an eBook, if you dislike too much commitment.

Amazon and Me

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Mon, 20 Jan 2014 23:21:00 +0000

I've spent quite a bit of money at Amazon over the years. It's also the perfect place to research writers and titles. (I always need to know about Kate Atkinson's latest book.)

But to be there, listed there, with my own book -- well, this is a whole new ballgame. It took a while after publishing with Lulu, but finally I can hit my own name, and there's "The Attic".

To all of you who write, who long to publish, who dream of holding your book in your hand -- this is the way to go. It's not for the money - we are not naive - but your book becomes part of the literary world, whether or not anyone chooses to buy it.

I'm reaching an age where I prefer not to see my birth date written down, and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the prospect of becoming a sweet, doddery, old lady, chatting people up at the bus stop, claiming to be a writer, but who had never published. Damn it, that wasn't going to happen to me.

And don't let it happen to you (assuming you are a woman - otherwise replace "lady" with "codger").

If you want fame and glory, then good luck with that. If you want to get rich, become a banker. But if you simply want to know that your words will never fade away...ever... then self-publish. Worry about the fame, glory and money later. It could happen. (In my case, probably post-mortem.)

So Amazon is no longer just a place for me to spend my money, or to research, but has become the safety deposit box for my book, along with the other three, when I process them.

Who knows, even Australia's Fishpond could list it some day.

And to my dear reviewers, at both book sites, my deepest thanks. At least I know someone's read it...

Self-published - "The Attic" - The Novel Released from the Agent Query Treadmill

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Tue, 03 Dec 2013 02:12:00 +0000

And so I've really done it. "The Attic" is out there - will be on Barnes and Noble, Amazon, etc., within weeks, and of course it's already at LuLu, the site I used to publish it.

If you've been considering it, but dismissed it because of some skeptical comments online (including mine!), I urge you to reconsider. Whether or not it sells, whether or not you establish a huge fan base, you will have the enormous satisfaction of holding your book in your hands and knowing it's available to the world. Forever, incidentally, as there will never be print over-runs, and it will never be stacked on a bookstore bargain table. In fact, your book will never be out of print, even when you are.

I've taken the liberty of adding a link to a really good article by Hugh Howey at Salon, about going it alone. This inspired me, and I hope it will have the same effect on you.

It took five proofings to get to this point. Each time you make changes, you must get another copy of the printed book to finally approve it. And that's it. The only cost to me (I even designed my own cover) were those proof copies...under $100 in total. If I had been more careful, no doubt I could have managed with just two copies, but I was so enthusiastic, so excited to be at the final gate, that I missed tiny things. "Patsy" became "Patty" on one page, for instance (and people said no one would have noticed), and there was an odd line break on page two. These could have been picked up much earlier if I had just relaxed and read through page by page, just one more time.

I won't discuss what goes into self-publishing. You must learn this yourself as you go along. But it's not difficult, just extremely exacting. As writers, and - we hope - good proof readers, we can cope with that.

But one thing...the beautifully formatted, perfectly proofread manuscript you've been submitting to agents is not the one you'll present for self-publication. You copy it, and then re-format it entirely. Once you've got the hang of the necessary book printer's format, you'll be fine.

However, if you then want to e-publish, that's a whole new formatting project. I nearly tore my hair out over that one, but I got there in the end,

You can do it. Honestly. Be brave.

By all means ask questions of me. I'm happy to share what little knowledge I have, or at least point you in the right direction.

It's Been Such a Long Time...

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Sun, 10 Nov 2013 04:38:00 +0000

I haven't type a word here since July. I have no excuses - there is always time in the day to say something, yet I didn't. I've been in a pensive, non-communicative state for quite a while, but I've emerged, I think.

I published my novel, now simply called "The Attic". This is huge for me. Not in terms of fame, glory, revenues (ha!), but with the incredible feeling of lightness, of relieving myself of a day-in, day-out stress that came when I let go and said, "Enough's enough."

In fact it wasn't as tricky to do as I imagined. Learning how to use the site itself was the hardest, and then it all fell into place.

This post is short and sweet. I only wanted you to know that I'd done it (what bravado!) after offering prickly comments about the self-publishing industry the whole time I've been blogging here. This only goes to show how long that's been, because since my very first blog, the whole attitude to what used to be called a self-aggrandizing practice has changed.

And I have now taken advantage.

Self-Publishing Under Protest

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Sat, 13 Jul 2013 00:06:00 +0000

It's been over four months since I last posted. During that time, I produced a lot of paintings, but that particular calling is losing its urgency, and I'm slipping back into writing mode with a vengeance.

There are a few queries out there, and I pop them off on a whim when I spy a new agent, or one who's just moved house. In fact, I'm now dealing with an English agent for Place of Dreams, and as soon as I can afford to do an actual print run of all my manuscripts, I'll be going the snail-mail route with other English agents. Those sweet, eccentric Brits. I can say that, because I am one...although Canada and Australia have smoothed out most of the quirkiness.

In the meantime, I wanted to tell you about the book I initially called "Strachan's Attic", but which is now renamed, simply, "The Attic". (It's odd, but I see no other current book for sale with that title.)

I wrote this novel for a family member, Pat, who lived through the strange, somewhat surreal years of World War II in England. She was a very young, barely out of high school, truck driver in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, and I grew up hearing of her exploits - many of them funny, considering the circumstances - and conjuring up the images she described. Wartime is unlike ordinary life, of course, and we can feel some of that when we watch the nightly news, trying (if we have the slightest trace of empathy) to imagine how people keep their sanity through all they experience.

Even when I was very small, I always knew I would be a writer. I seem to have been born able to read, although that's impossible, but I certainly don't recall the first time I read something, so I must have been very young. My mother constantly bought books for me, and I still remember the thrill of opening up a new one. Along with a set of paints, and a coloring book, this was all I ever wanted as gifts. Nothing much has changed, except I no longer use coloring books. Needless to say, in the back of my young mind, I longed to put the wartime stories down on paper. Undoubtedly, being so young when I first heard them from my mother or other family members, or directly from the long-retired WAAF herself, they made a deep impact.

And finally I wrote Pat's book. Although much of it is highly-fictionalized, it is as realistic, as hard-hitting, as faithfully recorded as I could manage. It is, ultimately, a love story. There were so many of those; senses are heightened and emotions are enhanced in a war zone. I believe I have captured this. Pat read the manuscript and loved it, but I so wanted to give her an actual book, tangible proof that her life had such a huge influence on me.

So, my friends, hold your breath...I am self-publishing it. In fact, it's all ready to go.

I've regularly more or less scorned the idea of what I saw as vanity press, but in this case, it's necessary. My WAAF is no longer young. And nor am I, for that matter. It's time to do this now.

I haven't decided whether or not to make the book available to the public. I need to consider this carefully. The book was written for her, but the few people who have read it - family, friends, a couple of writing buddies online - all enjoyed it, so it's reasonable to assume that others would too, although I'm also realistic enough to acknowledge that my MS readers would have resisted being unkind..

Perhaps I'll run through the process of self-publishing in another blog. For now, I'm too much of a novice to speak about it with any authority. But the book looks really good, and I believe I can do no more with it. If I do make it available for sale, I'll need to research the promotional side of it, I suppose. But then I never expected to reap a financial reward from it. All I ever wanted to do was see my sister's face when she held the book in her hands.

Yes, my WAAF is my sister.

Painting as Antidote to Waiting for Literary Agent Responses

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Sun, 10 Mar 2013 06:47:00 +0000

I finally heard back from that agent who had a full submission of mine for six months. I nudged her twice before getting her reply. She didn't say the work wasn't for her, but said, "I am not the best agent for this..." A new way of putting things.

So - except for those who will never respond, by my reckoning about a third of all queries sent - I have now closed off the dossier which represents last year's queries. This is tremendously freeing, and I can now concentrate on what's gone out this year. In all things, I don't believe in looking back. That's done and gone, and some of it not related to writing would make interesting reading in itself, but the here and now is what it's all about.

I'm still rather feverishly painting and that's very soothing, and I find I'm not dwelling on the books at all, but thinking up plots (for that's what they are) for my next picture.

Until next time.

What Writers Want.

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 02:27:00 +0000

I mentioned last week that there were still a couple of chunky submissions out there...well, heard back from one. She was under the impression she had already told me she was declining the opportunity of representing me. Believe me, if such an email had arrived, I would have known about it.

However, that old full submission is still in limbo. Perhaps it's been so long collecting cobwebs on the hard drive that their computer thinks my follow-up was just another poorly-worded query, and dumped it before it reached human eyes. Ah, well...c'est la vie and all that. And of course, the agent could be away at some long, long convention, in some remote place where there is no access to the internet.

In the meantime, I sent off six new queries over the last ten days, spread over all four manuscripts. Three rejections later, early this morning my time, I received a request for a FULL of The Place of Dreams, from the very first query. To say I was stunned is an understatement. My experience has always been (and remember how many queries I've sent out over the last year or so) that a full request comes at about query number 52.

A New York agent, too, which is refreshing. This book is most definitely not set in the US, and I always figured that's why I've struggled so much to get a good response from that city's creme de la creme (really thinking in French today). I'll still approach some British agents -- just as soon as my printer is up and running...really.

What writers want, in fact, need, is contact with folks who say they really liked the bits you've sent them so far. It's totally reassuring. It makes all the work -- and I'm not talking about the actual writing here -- worthwhile. As an aside, with my paintings, if someone wanders into my house -- friend, neighbor -- and spies one of my pictures and says how much they love it, I often give it to them. I'm a total pushover for flattery. Of course, I won't be doing that with my novels. Will I?

I'll keep you posted, as they say.

Boadicea and the Patient and Resilient Writer

noreply@blogger.com (Fran Caldwell) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 05:07:00 +0000

I boldly followed up with a couple of New York agents this morning. One has had one hundred pages of Summer Must End for over seven months. The other asked for and received the full Strachan's Attic manuscript five months ago.

Now I know this would seem to imply that neither agent is interested, but when it comes to big partials and full requests I've always been treated very politely, so I've come to expect an eventual response. Heck, I recently received a very nicely worded rejection for an initial query with ten pages that I sent seven months earlier, and it was personal, not the usual auto-response thing. So there are agents out there who do seem to empathize with the lonely writer waiting for human contact.

In the first half of 2012, of 147 queries (involving several partials and fulls, so I know the query letter worked) for 4 different books, I received 80 rejections, about half of them personally worded. 65 - not unexpectedly - did not respond at all. I stopped querying (to spend time licking my wounds) last July.

These days I'm totally immersed in painting, producing a couple a week, and selling here and there (check out the art blog if you don't believe me). The almost instant gratification experienced with painting has been rejuvenating, but I know it won't continue for much longer. For the first time since last July, I've started to feel a small twitch of anticipation at the prospect of agent research again. It's only a small twitch now, but it will grow more demanding. Call me a masochist, if you like, but you have to be in this game. And I'm not jaded, really I'm not.

So I am once again girding my loins, Boadicea-style, to begin the slow slog of snail-mailing queries to those agents who do not accept email queries. Most British agents fall into this category. It's true. I have no idea why. Perhaps someone can tell me. In any case, I've said before that my writing is more suited to the British agents' taste in books judging by my favorite reading, and I feel that I can no longer "hmphh" at their sweet eccentricity.

Do you, my patient writer friends, have anything to add about this business? We have all been so very, very quiet lately when it comes to blog comments (especially me) but I would like to know how joyous you are about approaching agents. Or do you mutter under your breath (using Anglo-Saxon words that are best left off blog pages) as you compose yet another letter?

May your spring and my autumn bring a new determination in this insane struggle we endure for the sake of our need to write.

Notice the date of this post? I feel love...somewhere out there.

Never give up the fight.