Thoughts at the end of August 2020 - I am NOT Cosy.

It is Tuesday August 25th, and I don't know where the month went. The weather has suddenly turned autumnal, as a consequence of which I feel considerably better. After almost six months of being told what to do, shielding, isolating and playing the "old lady", the worm has turned. I AM going to drive again, despite what my (non-driving) son says and despite my rackety old car. I don't go far, after all, chiropodist, hairdresser, doctor and I might even venture to attempt Tesco!

Meanwhile, I have been watching Foyle's War. Not quite bingeing (now discovered there's an "e" in the middle) but watching them over a few weeks consecutively. I'm now well into the Cold War in 1947 and I'm constantly surprised at how accurate it is. Last night, saw a specially made documentary "The Making Of Foyle's War", which encompassed the War Office expert, the properties and art department and various other experts, which explained a lot. Over the years the odd episode has given me material for my own books, one of which I was describing to my daughter this morning. "That doesn't sound very 'Cosy', Mum," she said. My reply? Guess.

I have been fighting a One-Woman War against the term "Cosy", coined in the States, for years. I'm sorry, but I don't consider homophobic murder and attacks, people smuggling, modern slavery, child abuse  and paedophilia very cosy, all of which I have written about. Other writers in roughly the same genre have also written about similar subjects. We are described as following in the wake of Agatha Christie, who would have been horrified to be descibed as Cosy.

When I started my career as a novelist I was already a writer, in that I wrote stuff for money. I called myself a writing whore. I adored many of the Golden Age writers, although not Christie so much, and read many modern crime novels. Yes, funnily enough, that was what they were. Crime novelists. Then, a few books in, I discovered - via Waterstones, no Amazon, then - that I was "Cozy". Yes, to compound matters, spelt with a "Z".

I even founded a Facebook Group called Traditional Mystery Writers UK, which attracted a few fellow novelists, but has never really thrived. But now I'm determined to fight against this rather derogatory and disparaging sobriquet. I am NOT COSY. Neither am I a doddery old lady. I can (mostly) look after myself - oh, and I'm still earning my own living. I am extremely grateful to my offspring for being there for me during the Covid 19 lockdown, for fetching and carrying and generally doing the things I can't, but we've all got to stand on our own two (wobbly) feet sometime. So off we go into the rest of 2020 with determination.

Mysteries-U-Like news

I am going to make a recommendation. I write, and enjoy reading, lighter detective fiction. As I have documented elsewhere, my love of this genre came from being allowed to run riot amid my parents' books, many of which I still have. These included Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe series (and occasionally a Tecumseh Fox), John Dickson Carr/Carter Dickson - Gideon Fell and Sir Henry Merrivale - and Ngaio Marsh's Roderick Alleyn series. I re-read them all, and the Alleyn books from start to finish at least once every two years. On the way, there were other writers; Gladys Mitchell and Patricia Wentworth, to name two.

I was already a professional writer (features, PR, theatre) when I went back to school to do a Master's Degree in Creative Writing, a fairly new discipline at the time, and one I was already teaching at local authority level. Sadly, it didn't improve my knowledge of literature, which I had hoped, but it did introduce me to the woman who became my publisher. Again, well documented. We more-or-less started off together. As my final dissertation I submitted 20,000 words of a detective story which had first been conceived for the long departed World One Day Novel Cup. I had never seriously considered authorship as a career, although I had dabbled freely in the murky waters of Romance. Like many others, I had thought I could write a Mills and Boon romance, or Category Romance, as I learned to call them. Easy, I thought. Wrong!!! I came to realise how very, very clever these women, and the occasional man, were. I remained content to be friends with many of them, friendships I have maintained to this day. More of that later.

Meanwhile, as Hazel Cushion went on to become a fully fledged publisher, she asked me if there was any more of my dissertation, and if so, could she have it. And, could it be a series. Well, by this stage in my life I had expanded my reading habits and discovered, among other things, many writers writing in the same genre I had loved as a child. So there was a market for it, although received wisdom from the industry was, between much sucking of teeth, that there wasn't. We all know how that turned out.

And that market also extended to Television, exemplified by the hugely popular Midsomer Murders. I had read the original books - only seven of them - and even met Caroline Graham, the author, when we were both tutors on a Writers' Holiday. There have been other series in a similar vein, although none as long lasting. Father Brown might be heading the same way, but Rosemary and Thyme didn't last long. Shakespeare and Hathaway is a little more jokey/pastiche, but quite enjoyable if you suspend serious criticism. The Coroner didn't last long, either, although it should have done.

But I've found a new one! I suspect a lot of my readers discovered it before I did, but I'm terribly glad I did. It's been airing on UKTV Drama since 2017, and now I have all my streaming ducks in a row, I have been - I believe the term is "Binging" (!) - on it since the beginning of the series. It is a New Zealand small town detective series called The Brokenwood Mysteries, and has some very familiar elements. Lead detectives, of course, and recurring characters, often rather quirky ones. And very odd murder methods - remind you of anything? Anyway, that's my first recommendation.

My second refers to something more personal. You remember I mentioned retained friendships? Well, some of us go away "on retreat" each year, which I have written about before. Not this year, of course. Anyway, a few of them decided to release an anthology of shorts as a 2020 beach read. And to my surprise, they asked me to join them. Surprise, because they are all romance writers, and all have been, or still are, Mills and Boon authors. I really struggled with this, and failed miserably on the romance front, but I was edited by one of them, a particular friend, who brought me into line. And the result is up for pre-order. You can find it on amazon, and this is what it looks like:

So there you are! Happy watching and reading. 

More thoughts on lockdown

I posted this today on my Facebook work page, and then decided I would post it here, too.

Lockdown has changed us all, even those of us who could be said to be living the same way we always do. One of the things that has happened to me is my younger daughter, currently living with me, was appalled that I was still paying separately for my landline, broadband and Sky connection. She immediately set about finding me a better solution, which she did, while she and younger son, also living with me, extolled the virtues of streaming services. I had looked at Netflix and been frightened to death. I couldn't see anything I liked and I just liked the fact that the Radio Times told me what there was to watch tonight in a nice, safe way. But I've had to change. The Sky signal stopped, and I needed an ordinary aerial to watch my nice safe TV. And my aerial appears to be broken. So, until an aerial man can come out, I'm more or less stuck with streaming. So I've found my own streaming service, Acorn, and those programmes I do like watching - even on Netflix. I am slowly coming into the 21st century. I have realised how much my life is governed by radio and television instead of my social life. I no longer do anything outside of home and work, which is depressing. I am lucky enough to have a garden, so I can go outside, but as I am a certain age with underlying health problems, the offspring are keeping me under house arrest. So, I'm watching streaming services and I've joined Zoom meetings and quizzes. I'm beginning to feel quite up to date. But when we're allowed out again, I'm going to take up every invitation I receive; I shall make the effort to go and see the plays and exhibitions that appeal to me, even if it's a bit of an effort. Because I shall remember what it was like when we couldn't do any of those things.

Writer in Lockdown - thoughts on Covid 19

Well, I suppose it's not that different from normal for those of us who survive on our writing income. I spend most days in the office working, or pretending to, stop at about 4 pm for a cuppa and a read on the sofa, cook dinner for between 6.30 and 7 and then watch television until bed. BUT. If I want to I can go shopping - supermarket, high street shops, big shops in Canterbury or farm shops. And if someone rings me up and says "fancy a drink?" I can say yes, put on a bit of a face and nip down the pub. Well - hobble, if truth be told, but the intention's there. And I can "Go Up West" to the theatre - as the girls and I did the day before the whole thing kicked off. We went to see City of Angels, which was wonderful - and, as I've got used to, someone one of them knew was in the production, this time in the orchestra.

Anyway, those are all things that I, and most people, took for granted. And suddenly we couldn't do any of it. Lou and I had a plan mapped out for productions we were going to see over the coming months. Phillipa, having just got back from a month entertaining rich people on a cruise ship, was about to go on tour. Lou had concerts planned. Miles had gigs planned for the whole year. Leo's book comes out this month, without the events it was going to have, and his American wife Carrie was due here at the end of the month. We are all, as a family, self employed, and the kids are now completely without income. Lou's partner is also a pro musician, so no hope there, then. In my household I am the sole earner. See last post on Fiscal Matters.

The consolation is that people are beginning to read more, and ebooks are essential. Book shops are closed - our local independent is now closed for good - and the warehouses are struggling, so ebooks are a lifeline. I will carry on saying I'm lucky, because I am. I have been offered, and accepted, a three book contract with Headline, my new publishers, although I haven't signed on the dotted line yet. All their employees are working from home, so things are taking longer than usual. This is due to my agent Kate Nash, someone I have known for years, but with whom I've only just formed this highly beneficial working relationship.

Meanwhile, I'm desperately trying to work on the short I'm writing for inclusion in a sort of anthology with five other writer friends. It's proving desperately hard - but whether that's the effects of the virus or just of laziness, I'm not sure...

Keep safe, everyone.