Monthly Archives: August 2015

A Writer’s Notebook

As a twelve year old I discovered H Rider Haggard and read She his novel that has sold over 83 million copies worldwide.

It was one of the books that influenced my interest in the Gothic novel. I live in Australia and while my parents, living in suburbia, would never have thought of Australia as having Gothic elements, (they would more likely connect Gothic to haunted castles in England and Europe) these features were part of the Australian landscape to early settlers in the bush and isolated parts of the country. Women were often left alone, some with small children, while their husband worked away, fearful of the unknown, and unseen dangers around them. The bush was a living, alien thing to them.

She is also one of the central texts in the development of Imperial Gothic. Many late-Victorian authors during the fin de siècle employed Gothic conventions and motifs in their writing, stressing and alluding to the supernatural, the ghostly, and the demonic. As Brantlinger has noted, “Connected to imperialist adventure fiction, these interests often imply anxieties about the stability of Britain, of the British Empire, or, more generally, of Western civilisation”.Novels like Dracula and the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde present depictions of repressed, foreign, and demonic forces at the heart of the imperial polity. In She the danger is raised in the form of Ayesha herself:

“ The terrible She had evidently made up her mind to go to England, and it made me absolutely shudder to think what would be the result of her arrival there… In the end she would, I had little doubt, assume absolute rule over the British dominions, and probably over the whole earth, and, though I was sure that she would speedily make ours the most glorious and prosperous empire that the world had ever seen, it would be at the cost of a terrible sacrifice of life”.
She’s threat to replace Queen Victoria with herself echoes the underlying anxiety over imperialism and European colonialism emblematic of the Imperial Gothic genre. Indeed, Judith Wilt characterises the narrative of She, in which British imperialist penetration of Africa (represented by Holly, Leo, and Job) suddenly suffers a potential “counter-attack” (from Ayesha), as one of the archetypal illustrations of the “reverse colonalism” motif in Victorian Gothic. Similarly, She marks one of the first fictional examples to raise the spectre of the natural decline of civilisation, and by extension, British imperial power, which would become an increasingly frequent theme in Gothic and invasion literature until the onset of World War I.

This week I received the structural edit from my publishers Allen & Unwin. A busy week coming up with this edit but I am enjoying the process of creating a book from the first word to the last full stop.

I sent my work to Allen & Unwin’s Friday Pitch and this was the first step to publication.

Enjoy your week, keep writing and when your work is polished send it to the appropriate publisher.

Good writing, Elise x

Ref: Wiki

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A Writer’s Notebook

This poem by Sylvia Plath is intense and luminous.

The Moon And The Yew Tree

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky —
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness –
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness – blackness and silence.

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A Writer’s Notebook

My novel will be in the bookshops towards the end of April, 2016. The manuscript is in the editing process and I’ll receive the structural report in a week. I’m thrilled my publisher is Allen & Unwin. So no work done by me on my as yet, unnamed novel.

I’ve  tossed around several ideas for a new novel. Quite a few of these ideas have been tossed out the window. Today, however I made a start and I’m happy with the half-page prologue. I hope to write a page a day or 1000 words per day. I intend to try!

I found a book of poems recently:  The Best-Loved Poems of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Selected and Introduced  by Caroline Kennedy.

Caroline Kennedy writes:

‘To me, the most meaningful poem in this section is Robert Frost’s  “The Gift Outright”, which the poet recited at my father’s inauguration. By asking Frost to read that day, my father expressed his belief in the power of language and connected the inaugural ceremony to an enduring traditon of using poetry, in a sense, to sanctify and occasion.

‘A snowstorm had blanketed the Capital the night before, but the morning was glistening bright. When Frost stood to read the poem he had written for the occasion, the glare was so strong he couldn’t see the words on the page. He recited “The Gift Outright’’ from memory. The contrast between his age and my father’s youth, the poet’s frailty and the power of his words gave the moment special significance.’

One of the poems in the book is ‘Meanwhile in Massachusetts’ by Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy.  It’s a long poem, and Jackie’s love for her husband shines in every word.  It’s worth a read.

Good writing

Elise x

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A Writer’s Notebook

Today I’m looking at the grey winter sky from my desk and enduring the cold weather, which I’ve been reliably told, is the coldest anyone in Melbourne can remember. In the summer of 2014 the sun is still shining and in each summer of my life before then. I’m keeping warm by remembering them and also by imagining the summer days to come, for they will.  I lived for many years in Western Australian where I didn’t own an overcoat, where cotton garments sufficed in winter, although I do remember I owned several woollen jumpers and a raincoat. I grew up at Cronulla, a beachside suburb of Sydney, and spent my free days on the beach, on hot nights my family often slept on the beach.  I was born under the sun-sign of Leo. I love hot weather. I love swimming and the beach. Yet, there are good things about winter in Melbourne: hot chocolate, open fires, red wine, steaming soups, and clouds that will blow away. I read on Allen & Unwin’s website that what makes cold days (and nights) magical are:  a large sweater, warm tea, (I like my tea scalding as does a favourite character in the novel I am working on), soft socks, a good book and a box of chocolates.  Most importantly, while the days are shorter, writing time seems longer.

Each day, summer or winter, if possible I keep to my writing schedule. In the early morning, after my breakfast, I check emails and by 8 a.m. I’m at my desk ready to write until around 12.00 noon.

I read back over the day before’s pages before I start writing. Like most writers, some days are more creative than others. No matter what type of day it is I keep writing.

I consider the hours I spend researching delightful ones. I research as I go along rather than at the beginning of a story. This way I don’t have thousands of words of research that while fascinating is not used. I save many hours of time this way. A  well researched story is better than one, that while quicker to write, has errors of fact.

Writing each day is important. It is not necessary to write a certain amount of words but it is necessary to be consistent.

Sunday is my blogging day which I enjoy immensely.

Good writing

Elise x

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A Writer’s Notebook

There is a bookshop in London called Persephone Books.

Persephone was carried off by Hades and made queen of the underworld. Demeter refused to let the earth produce its fruits until her daughter was restored to her, but because Persephone had eaten some pomegranate seeds in the other world, she was obliged to spend part of every year there. Her story symbolises the return of spring and the life and growth of corn.

I like to think Persephone Books symbolise the return of forgotten women authors.

I subscribe to their blog and read on it recently of the death of Nova Pilbeam the most wonderful actress who never was. Duncan Hannah, a painter intrigued by Nova, although as far as I know he never met her, painted her and you can view his evocative picture of her and many others which I just love on his website.

My WIP (work-in-progress)  is set in WW2 in England. My finished novel will be published in 2016 by Allen and Unwin. It is set in Australia in WW2 and also in contemporary times and has two chapters set in Northern California.

Good writing

Elise x

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