We'll always have the book - a Book Slam blog

What happens when our favourite books are turned into films? I recently heard James Sallis and Lee Child speak and the words of the latter made me think that maybe, just maybe, we should try not to take it all so personally... (unless, you know, Ryan Gosling is playing our lead, in which case let's dial up the personal). To read more, hop on over to the Book Slam website.

Independent Booksellers' Week

To help celebrate Independent Booksellers' Week on 5th July I visited Rossiter Books in Ross-on-Wye. It's a beautiful shop run by the husband and wife team of Andy and Victoria Rossiter, and one of two stores owned by the couple (the other's down the road in Monmouth). I first met Andy a few weeks ago while doing a signing in Waterstones, he was shopping with his children and stopped to chat. Serendipitously he was planning his events programme and was kind enough to ask me to be a part of it. Rossiter Books is clearly beloved within the local community. A great crowd came along, all friendly faces, and full of perky questions. It was my first evening event at a bookshop and I'm so happy to have been involved in Independent Booksellers' Week in some way. I went back to do some shopping the next day, and came away with a bag full of beautiful hardbacks. Lucky people of Ross, to have such a gem on their doorstep. Thanks to Andy, Carol and Richard who gave me such a lovely welcome - and to all those who came along on the night. Hurrah for indies!

Summers in Madrid

On 4th July The Book of Summers, El libro de los veranos, was published in Spain and my publisher, Suma de letras, invited me over for the launch. WHAT a time to be visiting Madrid. The city was euphoric, riding high on the football team's stunning success. I arrived in the middle of a city-wide street party, with Gran Via, the central thoroughfare akin to Oxford Street, entirely closed to traffic. Marta, from the Suma de letras publicity team, met me at the airport - a taxi took us as far as it could then we walked the last steps to the hotel. It was past 9pm and the heat of the day was still thick in the air. We sauntered to the tune of air horns and whistles, drum beats and joyous renditions of Viva España. Underfoot the street was sticky with spilt drinks and paper replicas of the Euro 2012 trophy were scattered like giant confetti. As an arrival in another country goes, it couldn't have been more intoxicating. As soon as I'd checked in I went out to join the red and yellow blaze of the party. 

The next morning I threw open my balcony doors. Even though it was only 8am it was already white-hot, and Gran Via was back to business as usual, football shirts swapped for office wear, and humming with traffic. I was getting ready for work too; the next day and a half held ten interviews with some of Spain's biggest papers, magazines, radio stations and websites. El libro de los veranos and I were going to be busy.

Our base for the day was my hotel, Hotel de las Letras, a place with a fine literary heritage and apparently the venue of choice for visiting authors. I met Marta and my interpreter - the super smart Diana - in the cool-white lounge, and so began an exciting, stimulating, exhausting day of interviews and photo shoots. 

After lunch at a cool little restaurant across the street (where my new Spanish friends laughed at our crazy English ways - puny sandwich lunches 'al desko' and bed before midnight) we sped through the afternoon. After the last interview Marta introduced me to the delights of San Anton market, helping me pick the finest Manchego cheese and Chorizo sausage to take home. By the evening I was pooped (last night's air horns not proving to be the softest lullaby) but Madrid is not the kind of city you want to draw a curtain on. Thanks to the late hours everyone keeps I still had time to wander around the shops, spotting El Libro de los veranos in three bookstores and two window displays, all within steps of one another.  In El Corte Inglés - Spain's biggest department store chain - the book is being sold together with a lovely desk-top photo album, meanwhile in Fnac in Valencia (books, music, movies) there's a huge banner advertising El libro de los veranos on the building's exterior... for a girl who used to work in Ad Land, that's especially awesome. I'm told Suma de Letras have even more exciting advertising plans for the summer... so watch this blog.

Rejuvenated by these 'in the wild' sightings I took to the hotel's rooftop bar for a nightcap and caught up with some work on book two (a deadline's a deadline, even when you've escaped your desk). The pink-white dusk was rolling in gently, Madrid's rooftops were luminous, and I found a quiet corner all to myself. Bliss.

I woke up the next morning with the sense I always get on my last day in a foreign city - I didn't want to go home. But there was plenty to keep my mind off departure, with more interviews - including with Spain's biggest daily El Pais - followed by lunch with the very lovely editorial team of Gonzalo and Pablo. They took me to a gem of a restaurant tucked in the back-streets, where giant hams hung from the ceiling and old boy waiters served up Spanish specialities. Gonzalo is a dedicated Anglophile and we talked cream teas, Agatha Christie and the indescribable joy of plucking a perfectly risen pie from the oven.

After bidding goodbye, I spent my last couple of hours in Madrid wandering the streets surrounding Gran Via. I found the brilliantly tatty English second-hand book shop J&J Books & Coffee where I drank a café con leche and browsed the stacks, coming across a near-new copy of Paul Hendrickson's Hemingway's Boat. Ernest famously loved Spain, and the last page of The Sun Also Rises takes place on Gran Via, with Jake and Brett in a cab.

My own taxi was waiting, so I hastened back to the hotel. As I walked, smiling and sweltering in the full heat of a weekday afternoon, the incredible warmth of my Madrid welcome over the past couple of days hit me. And it's with me still. I feel incredibly lucky to be published in Spain by people as passionate and enthusiastic as the Suma de letras team (thank you - Gonzalo, Pablo, Marta, Patricia, and interpreters Diana and Beth - for such an amazing trip). I feel grateful that so many journalists were willing to meet me and talk about my book. And I feel awed that The Book of Summers has taken on a life of its own, as El libro de los veranos, and will still be in Spain even when I can't be. Muchas gracias y Viva España!

Edinburgh International Book Festival

In August I'm making my first book festival appearance* and I'm delighted that it's at EDINBURGH, 'the largest celebration of the written word in the world.' Over 800 writers and thinkers will descend on the city over two weeks in August.

My event, 'Family Dramas Exposed', is on Friday 24th August, with Norwegian writer Karl Ove Knausgaard.   You can buy tickets HERE.


On the same day I'm also reading as part of the Amnesty International Imprisoned Writers Series. You can read more about that HERE.


All debut novelists appearing at the festival have their books entered into the ANOBII FIRST BOOK AWARD. This year there are 45 titles in the running, The Book of Summers among them. It's a public vote - last time fellow Headline author Sarah Winman won with the brilliant When God Was A Rabbit. If you'd like to vote for The Book of Summers, you can do so HERE (oh, go on!). 


All authors received their copies of the Festival programme a few days ahead of it being announced online, and the postman delivered not one but two copies to our house. The Etherington Brothers have their event on saturday 25th following a 'storming performance last year' (according to the most excellent blurb). Bobby and I did a little caper in the kitchen that morning, and waved our programmes madly. Then got back to work.


It's tempting to take my writing room on the road and north of the border for those last two weeks of August. My Edinburgh wish-list?  Liza Klaussmann, Nell Freudenberger, Susan Fletcher. And many, many more. Excited isn't the word... but it'll do for now.



*I've a few different events lined up over the coming months - check them out over on the EVENTS page of my blog. Hope to see you somewhere...

Uborka saláta

After Marika's Raspberry Cake, the next dish out of the Villa Serena kitchen is Hungarian Cucumber Salad or, Uborka saláta. I've a good old goulash bubbling away on the stove, and you'll get that recipe soon too, but before then here's my favourite of all side dishes. A lot of traditional Hungarian food is rich and intense so this sprightly salad is a welcome addition to any meal. It makes a particularly tasty accompaniment to said goulash. Marika and Zoltán serve cucumber salad as part of Erzsi's welcome supper, when she arrives for her fourth summer at Villa Serena. They dine together on the terrace as night falls behind them and the fireflies come out to play.

'Our plates were piled high, the silvery slices of cucumber dripping off the edges. 

Zoltán poured the glowing wine into three glasses. In the candlelight it looked 

like magic caught and held.'

Ingredients (to serve 4):
1 cucumber, peeled and sliced as thinly as you can manage
2 tablespoons of white wine vinegar
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1/2 teaspoon of caster sugar
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
Salt and pepper for seasoning
Sour cream & paprika to garnish


Take your peeled and finely sliced cucumber and cover it with a very generous sprinkling of salt. If you're not a salt fan you might balk at this part but it really does make all the difference to the salad's perky taste. Leave it to stand for about half an hour, then squeeze it out using the flats of your hands and a colander. While the cucumber's enjoying its salt bath, make your dressing by combining the white wine vinegar, olive oil, sugar, and a crunch of black pepper. Once you've wrung a lot of the salt from the cucumber, douse it in the dressing, and throw in the finely chopped garlic. Combine thoroughly, and taste to check for seasoning. I like to top it off with a dollop of sour cream and a dusting of paprika.  Jó étvágyat!

Euro 2012

While all (football loving) minds are turned to Europe, I'm excited to share three gorgeous new editions of The Book of Summers with you. 
On 5th June, Álbum de Verão came out in Portugal, published by Civilização.

On 4th July, El Libro de los Veranos will be published in Spain, by Santillana.

On 10th July, Il Libro Delle Estati will be published in Italy, by Mondadori.

Whatever happens in Euro 2012, Ronaldo, Torres, Cassano and co will clearly have, er, something to look forward to upon their return home. 

Marika's Raspberry Cake

'I can't believe it's cake for breakfast,' I said, through mouthfuls.

'I can't believe you're really here,' said Marika.

Food is an important part of The Book of Summers. Through bullet-holed cheese and bleeding tomatoes, paprika chicken and ragged twists of homemade noodles, Hungary reveals its exoticness to Erzsi, puts fire in her belly and in her heart. Meals on the Villa Serena terrace are always memorable and food is entwined with gestures; the homely taste of Wiener Schnitzel and big fat chips when Erzsi's laid low; Marika's rambunctious promise of a lunch made entirely of ice-cream; Zoltán's quieting of fractious spirits with a red-hot fish soup. I thought it'd be fun to bring the flavour of Villa Serena to my blog throughout the summer, writing recipes for a few of the dishes that appear in the book. In the spirit of Marika, mine is a freestyle kitchen so don't expect things to exactly follow Hungarian conventions. But no recipe will appear here unless it's passed the taste test. Bon appétit - or as they say in Hungary - Jó Étvágyat!

Where better to start than on Erzsi's very first morning in Hungary? When Erzsi wakes up at Villa Serena she sees that Marika has baked her a cake, with her name spelt out in raspberries. It's a wonky, imperfect heap, but made with real heart and Erzsi tucks in with relish. I'm with Marika on this one, cake for breakfast is a brilliant indulgence. The balance works here because of the sober nature of the cake itself (a fat-free Hungarian sponge that has a sweet though slightly bready texture), the zestiness of the lemon icing and the fresh taste of the fruit. And the quick spread of apricot jam through the middle calls to mind the toast you might have had if you'd settled for a more boring breakfast.

For the cake:

6 eggs

120g self-raising flour

150g castor sugar

Separate your eggs, then cream the egg yolks with half of the sugar. Beat the egg whites until stiff, gradually adding in the rest of the sugar. Gently fold the sugared egg whites into the yolks, and blend in the sieved flour. Lightly grease two sandwich tins (approx 8 inches across) and divide the mixture between them. Bake in a pre-heated oven at 190 degrees for 15-20 minutes, or until golden.

For the filling & topping:

150g unsalted butter

300g icing sugar

Juice & zest of one lemon

A good dollop of apricot jam

Lots of fresh raspberries

Cream the butter, then beat in the sieved icing sugar. Add the zest and juice of one lemon and mix through. Once the two halves of the cake have cooled, spread one with the jam, and cover entirely with raspberries. Then take just under half of your icing and spread over the underside of the other cake. Put the two together, and spread the top with the remainder of the icing. Take what's left of your raspberries and write the name of your cake's intended. Or - if you run out of space like I did - settle for an initial. This one's E for Erzsi.

Brew a pot of good, strong coffee, cut a generous slice, and find a patch of morning sunlight. That's breakfast,Villa Serena style. 

WIN - a Summer sundae

The weather in the UK has been utterly miserable over the Jubilee weekend, but in our house the sun was beaming as I made myself a Book of Summers Sundae. Yes. You had that right. A Summer Sundae.

Until 31st July my UK publisher Headline are running an amazing competition to win an ice cream day for your whole office, topped off with The Book of Summers wafers. If that isn't the proverbial cherry (and I highly recommend some literal ones as well, for that Magyar touch) then I don't know what is. You can enter the competition HERE.


Ice cream was always a feature of our trips to Hungary when I was a child. Back in the 90s, dessert choices in Hungarian restaurants were often quite limited; pancakes, trifle, and copious amounts of ice cream. No café was complete without a menu showing enticing pictures of  'ice cream cups', dribbled with chocolate sauce, dripping with fresh fruit and scattered nuts, although rarely did the sundaes that came to our table resemble their photographic counterparts. Often they were bigger. Best of all were the roadside kiosks, where I tasted watermelon and cherry flavours for the first time, and always walked away with a towering cone, the wafer crumbling beneath my fingers, the hot, hot sun sending bright-coloured rivulets running down my wrist. Fagylalt - as it's called in Hungary (pronounced something like fodge-loite) - is an eternally sweet memory of those childhood holidays. 


Go on, enter the comp, and bring the sweet taste of Hungarian summers into your office - no matter what the English weather's doing outside the window. 

Coast to coast

I was very excited to see The Book of Summers included in the Los Angeles Times round-up of Beach Reads in the same week that an ad for my novel appeared in the hallowed pages of The New Yorker. That's some fine coast to coast coverage, and gives me itchy feet - I've never been to New York or California and lust after visiting both. I was also interviewed by Melanie Smith of the US-based website Book Reporter - the questions were the most in-depth I've answered yet, and all the more enjoyable for it - you can read them HERE. Book Reporter also reviewed The Book of Summers, "In every page of this breathtaking novel is a strong sense of place and humanity. Readers will really appreciate the solid, artistic, beautifully descriptive quality of Emylia Hall's writing." You can read the review in all of its loveliness HERE. What else? My publisher MIRA offered Vera Wang beach totes to readers tweeting their favourite summer memories, and after a Book Reporter competition twenty-five signed copies of The Book of Summers have gone to winners across the USA, from Gulf Breeze to Baton Rouge, from Scottsdale to Breckenridge. A brilliantly exciting first Publication Week across the pond, then. It might call for another batch of blueberry pancakes...      

Oh, Hay!

On the coat-tails of The Etherington Brothers (my husband and his little bro Lorenzo) I went to the Hay Festival this weekend. The boys performed three Comic Capers shows in as many days, introducing 1,000 children to the joys of creativity - particularly the magic that happens when words meet pictures. I was so proud to sit in the crowd and watch them do their thing with such aplomb.

Afterwards, as the boys signed books, I did a little browsing. Earlier I'd discovered the joys of Richard Booth's Bookshop and picked up a couple of second-hand gems, but was soon drawn to the shiny-new delights in the Festival Bookshop. I wish I read more slowly, as I'm afraid I'll zip through this little pile in no time at all...  

  
I've started with Diamond Star Halo by Tiffany Murray and I couldn't be enjoying it more. Owen Sheers describes it as 'a beautiful, pitch-perfect harmony of Wuthering Heights and your favourite mix tape,' and the Guardian, 'heart-felt writing from the glam-rock Dodie Smith.' I'm half-way through and so far, so utterly perfect. The writing is sensual and pops from the page. And it makes me want to listen to T. Rex, which is never a bad thing. 

My other find of the weekend was deep in the stacks of the aforementioned Richard Booth's. A Terrace In The Sun by Cecil Roberts. I'd not heard of either the book or its author, but the title spoke to me, as did the whimsy little sketch of villa and Cypress trees on the cover. The blurb - written in 1951 - sealed the deal: Stephen May, at the height of a distinguished career as an artist, looks at his life one New Year's Eve in Monte Carlo and finds he has nothing left to live for. I'm imagining it as a darker sort of An Enchanted April.

  
It was amazing to be in Hay as a WAG along with Lorenzo's wife Esther, cheering on the boys from the sidelines. But as I watched them on stage, gulping down water and adjusting their mics, by stomach flipped a little, as next time I go to a festival with The Etherington Brothers I'll be appearing too. I suspect my audience will be less prone to giggling and I'll be doling out fewer knuckle bumps, but then again, you never know.

Pancakes for Pub Day

Today The Book of Summers is published in the USA and Canada. I can remember talking to my editor at MIRA, Erika, very early on in the process; they were interested in publishing but an offer hadn't been made yet. I slipped out of work and took the call from New York sitting on a park bench. Erika told me how she was married to a Hungarian man, and how so much of the book resonated with her - that very weekend she had even been to a Szalonna Party (American readers, if you'd like to turn to page 49 in the book, all will be explained). The stars - and stripes - were surely aligned in my favour that day, and with the brilliant support of Erika & the team at MIRA, they have been ever since. 


This morning there was only one way to celebrate; American-style blueberry pancakes, with lashings of maple syrup. I threw in some strawberries for good measure, brewed a cup of coffee (served in my lucky Santa Fe mug, a souvenir from my New Mexican honeymoon), and sat down in the garden. It's amazing to think that across the Atlantic over the coming days, weeks, months, perhaps a reader will perform much the same ritual; a short stack, bottomless coffee, and The Book of Summers. Now that's my American Dream, right there. 

Richard & Judy Summer Book Club

Today is paperback publication day for The Book of Summers in the UK, and just yesterday it was announced that my book has been chosen by Richard and Judy for their Summer Book Club. I've known about it for a little while and I've been bursting to tell - it's quite overwhelming that I can now shout about it. 

I've always been a fan of Richard and Judy's selections - some of my favourite contemporary novels have been past picks, Eve Green by Susan Fletcher, The Outcast by Sadie Jones, The Paris Wife by Paula McLain, and I'm honoured to be in such company. (American readers - if you're unfamiliar with the legends that are Richard and Judy, my US editor Erika brilliantly described them as 'think Oprah, with charming accents').

You can read both Richard and Judy's reviews of The Book of Summers in full HERE. Richard said "A delicate, atmospheric, regretful tale but full of redemption too. I absolutely loved it" and Judy, "A lovely story of a mother's love and shattered dreams. And the power of simple photographs and forgotten trinkets to mend broken hearts." A video interview will appear on the same site in the near future (we filmed yesterday) and in July a dedicated podcast will run, as well as a live web chat - I'll keep you posted.

The Book Club will be in all WHSmith stores throughout the summer, and also online, with regular Facebook updates. Wowzer. What more can I say? Only that I'm incredibly grateful to Richard and Judy for choosing The Book of Summers. I couldn't wish for a better start to my book's life as a paperback. 

A special commission

May is an exciting month for The Book of Summers, what with the UK paperback release and publication in the USA. To celebrate, I'd like to unveil a painting that I've specially commissioned. Lake Balaton is by the artist Alwyn Hall - aka my dad. 

Lake Balaton by Alwyn Hall

Detail

In The Book of Summers, Villa Serena is pervaded by the spirit of creativity - Zoltán's art, Marika's bohemia, Erzsi's freedoms - and in Erzsi's bedroom hangs Zoltán's painting of the lake. Originally my dad planned to recreate the 'brightly splashed canvases' of the Hungarian artist, but in the end favoured a more precise, detailed interpretation that is closer to his own work. The painting perfectly captures Lake Balaton - the endless blues of sky and water, the quality of light, and all the serenity of a perfect summer day. 

The lives of others - a Book Slam blog

There are so many books about the craft of writing, but what about the craftiness? Over on the Book Slam website I ask whether you've read How I Write - The Secret Lives of Authors, and explain why if you haven't, you really should... 

Read it HERE (the blog, not the book... although hopefully you'll be tempted to soon after).

American May

My wedding anniversary falls in May, making it two years since my husband and I wed in Las Vegas. It was my first time in America and the trip was every bit the dream I hoped. We hit the road to New Mexico and wound up in Santa Fe, a city I now pine for from my own South Western corner. The month of May will always make me think of my happy American days, and now I've another reason for that to be so... The Book of Summers is published in the US on the 29th May.  The other day I received my copies of the book, have a look... 

The edges of the pages have a ragged effect, to lend a little romance of times gone by, and I particularly love the specially created font for The Book of Summers, accents of which are taken through the chapter headings. My publisher, MIRA, have done me proud. Roll on Summer, Stateside! 

A book club podcast

I was slow to adopt Twitter, but one of the things I now love about the medium are the people it's brought me into contact with, including some very lovely book bloggers and book lovers. One such was Kim Nash (@KimTheBookworm), who's the 'resident bookworm' for Stafford FM. I've Kim to thank for choosing The Book of Summers as the station's 'book of the week' last week, with an extract read out on air by DJ and Book Club host Lee Middleton. Last sunday I was interviewed by Lee and you can hear it HERE. I talk about how I started writing, what kept me at it, and why so long as I keep writing stories I believe in I'll never stop loving the process. Thank you Kim, Lee and Stafford! 

Summers in Europe

Thanks to the international allure of the London Book Fair, this week six of my foreign publishers were in London and I got the chance to meet them for the first time. In a lovely pub on Old Brompton Road I was delighted to chat to Ursula from btb Verlag (Germany), Gonzalo from Santillana (Spain), Chiara and Joy from Mondadori (Italy), Jacqueline from Orlando (Holland), Viveca from Forum (Sweden) and Simona from DK Civilicacao (Portugal). It was wonderful to put faces to names, to talk about cover designs and translated titles, extra material for reading groups and publicity possibilities. I tried out my extensive Swedish as gleaned from Wallander (tack! tack!), learned that Sicilian food is the best in Italy, and that my Spanish editor is a frequent visitor to the miniscule Devon village I went to primary school in. A small world, indeed. By the end of the evening I was all of a flutter, and hugely grateful to Rachel & Alexandra at PFD for bringing us together. The Book of Summers will be published first in translation in Portugal, in June. Recently I came across some pictures of the world's most beautiful bookshops, among them Livraria Lello in Porto, Portugal. I wonder if The Book of Summers will appear on these crazy-lovely shelves...?

The story of a chair

The last time I was at my parents' house, I was looking through some old photographs and 
found this one...





It shows my mother, sister and I sitting under the apple tree in our garden. I am the smallest person in the picture, probably three or four years old, with no idea of the photographer behind me. Perhaps we had no garden furniture then, for the chairs we are sitting on are from the dining room of our cottage. We would have seen the sunshine and carried them out onto the lawn. I have no memory of this day, but there have been plenty of similar ones since. When I saw this photograph - nearly thirty years after it was taken - my eye was drawn to the chair my sister is sitting on. I hadn't seen it in ages. My dad, at heart, is both a hoarder and a restorer. He revealed that the chair was somewhere in the depths of the garden shed, likely riddled with woodworm and laced with spiders' webs, but he'd dig it out and brush it off if I wanted. And I did want. I'd been on the look out for a new chair for my writing room for some time. I've never been a fan of 'office furniture' - ergonomics and lumbar support are always so.... ugly - I'd rather a less comfortable seat with a touch of romance about it. 


A month or so later, my dad came up trumps. The chair was just where he thought it'd be, at the back of the shed among our old bicycles and abandoned easels, trapped by a pair of oars. He spruced it up, banishing the sprinklings of woodworm, scrubbing and treating and varnishing. He re-upholstered it using some fabric I'd brought back from Rwanda, purchased by the piece in Kimironko market. As well as giving me the chair, my dad gave me the history behind it. He'd liberated it from a skip at the Manchester school where he was an art teacher in the 70s. It was an old teacher's chair, probably dating from the 50s. For years we'd had it in our dining room at home, until his parents died and we inherited their furniture. If I'd hadn't seen the photograph, it'd still be in the shed. And now it's here, in another photograph... 

My writing room in Bristol. Sharp eyes might glimpse the mood board for my second novel, and a copy of my first in my bookcase, beside some of my favourite authors. The chair appears black and shining and perfectly at home. It presides over my desk - another reclaimed piece of furniture - and seems to know its place. Abandoned and rescued twice, it's something new born of something old, and made with love. It might not be the comfiest seat in the world, and the height is a little off for typing, but for me it's the perfect writing chair. We have history; one summer's day we both sat under an apple tree in a sunny garden, the Devon hillsides rolling away behind us. 

Home to Waterstones

When I think about writing The Book of Summers, a couple of decisions stand out as having particularly helped its progress; one was taking my self-styled writing sabbatical in 2010, and the other was to extend it. At the start of that year I resigned from my job in a marketing agency and lived on a shoestring for six months, my sole ambition to finish writing The Book of Summers. I'd already been working on the manuscript for two and a half years, but I knew that if I wanted it to be as good as I thought it could be, I needed to give it more time. All writers work differently, and many under far greater life pressures than I was enduring, but I felt I needed to free myself up in order to write the way I wanted to. I feared I wasn't being self-critical enough and with six months off, I knew I could give myself a clear run at it, reshaping the narrative, asking all the tough questions I knew I needed to and not be afraid of the answers. My husband is a comic book writer, used to up and down incomes of his own, but he was wholly supportive of my choice to chuck in my steady job and so we began 2010 on a tight budget, saying 'no' to a lot of things, and working away in our little Bristol flat, heads and hearts full of dreams. 


In those six months The Book of Summers began to take on a new shape and I liked the look of it. I knew if I took another six months and carried on at the same pace then by the end of the year my manuscript would be ready to send out to agents. But my funds were dwindling fast and I needed a part-time job. It was too soon to go back to my old world as I knew it would swallow me up again. I wanted something I could pick up and put down again at the end of the day and pay me just enough to get by. I flirted with the idea of waitressing - I'd always liked it as a student, getting by on a wing and a smile - so I did a couple of trial shifts at local restaurants. One was an upmarket fish place and they were looking for someone who could open wine at table deftly (nope) and carry three or more plates at a time (also nope), so I failed dismally. The other wanted me to work several unpaid shifts, the first mostly consisting of me folding napkins. I think after I'd folded the first few they could assess my capabilities, so I said thanks but no thanks. I also applied for three part-time admin jobs at the university, imagining myself cycling to campus in the september sun, scarf flying behind me, Ali MacGraw style. I didn't even get an interview - all my years of advertising and marketing meant nothing when more than 300 people had applied for each position. I began to worry I'd been rash. I'd burnt through my savings. I was ill-qualified for the kind of jobs I thought I wanted, and self-aware enough to know that I harboured distinctly romantic notions about them, anyway. I spent most of the summer worrying about what my next move should be, my day's writing interspersed with lists of pros & cons and scouring job sites. I began to wonder if my best option was, after all, to go back to the marketing world that I knew inside out. Then I saw that my local Waterstones were looking for Christmas temps. I applied in a flash. My only retail experience was a six-month stint in a French snowboard shop but I loved books, boy, did I love books. As I was waiting to hear I went for a long walk through the grounds of Ashton Court Manor. The estate overlooks the whole of Bristol, and the trees were just turning to Autumn gold. I caught a falling leaf and made a wish - an old habit. 


At the end of September I started working part-time at Waterstones Bristol Galleries as one of the first batch of Christmas temps, and it was to Waterstones Bristol Galleries that I returned on saturday, for my first instore signing. It was wonderful to see so many familiar faces, and receive such a warm welcome. I hung my coat and bag on a peg in the staff-room (where I'd eaten many a peanut butter sandwich, leafed through many a dog-eared Bookseller, chatted many a bookish chat) and sat down at the table that was waiting for me. A stack of The Book of Summers to one side, and a Sharpie at the ready. I smiled and I felt at home. I owe a big thank you to Waterstones, not just for having me on saturday and supporting The Book of Summers so thoroughly, but also for employing me in 2010. For it was that part-time job which allowed me to maintain the momentum of my sabbatical - keeping my head down, my spirits up and my funds level - I'll always think of it with a mix of gratitude, relief and a terrific sense of freedom. It was the home stretch to The Book of Summers, an appropriate end to my year of writing and the beginning of so much more.

Busy, busy

The Book of Summers has now been out in the world for one month and a day... In all the excitement of publication I've missed posting a few things, so here's something of a round-up of what's been going on at Camp Summer.

I've been speaking to some lovely book bloggers and doing interviews with Lloyd Paige, The Unlikely Bookworm and Jaffa Reads Too as well as a Publication Day guest blog over at Our Book Reviews. The Book of Summers has also been reviewed by plenty of book bloggers, and here are some of my recent favourites: Lovely Lovely Books ('evocative, accomplished and just gorgeous'), Fleur Fisher In Her World ('wonderful descriptions, well drawn characters, real emotions'), Something Booky ('absolutely stunning'), The Unlikely Bookworm ('poignant and utterly captivating'). I've been lucky to be getting some really lovely reviews over on Waterstones, Amazon and Good Reads, and a couple of particular write-ups made my day - this from Fictions Online ('an astoundingly beautiful tale') and from Marleen ('unexpected treasures'). 

March has turned out to be the month where I've bought more magazines than ever before and across the broadest spectrum - from Heat to The Spectator - and I've been chuffed to find great reviews and mentions for The Book of Summers in all of them. I've added choice quotes to my website HERE. Several of my favourite write-ups are in full online, in Cosmopolitan, The Spectator and The Big Issue. I wrote a short story celebrating Mother's Day for My Weekly - sadly it isn't available on the web, but I loved writing it. Like The Book of Summers it's about the poignancy of memory and mother and daughter ties. I was chuffed to bits that the super stylish Stylist Magazine also picked The Book of Summers as one of the 'hottest debuts of 2012', calling it 'fantastically evocative and sun-drenched.' But the magazine entry that elicited the biggest gasp from me was probably the shot in Grazia, where a quite humungous pic of The Book of Summers appeared in the 'Hot things to do now' listing...

Two summers ago I attended Marie Claire's How To Get Published workshop at the Bristol Hotel du Vin - the magazine interviewed me just before Publication Day and the write-up appeared in the Inspire & Mentor section of their website - you can see it here. I wrote about how memories of sun-kissed childhood holidays inspired my writing over on the We Love This Book site. And I was also interviewed by The Western Morning News - for a Devon gal, that was quite something - you can read the piece in full here. The spread in the paper made use of some of my dad's holiday snaps, including this rather beautiful image of Lake Balaton at sunset.

I've had an incredible first month as a published author and the generosity of feeling towards The Book of Summers has been astounding. In the week before Mother's Day I met a couple of old work pals in a bar by the waterside and signed six books, writing the names of their mothers and girlfriends. I received an email from a friend in Shanghai, passing on a family review, with such a glowing report from her mum that my cheeks ached from beaming. I've had excited phone calls and text messages from friends who've spotted the book in stores all over, and been sent snaps of it in Auckland, Kilkenny and Dublin. As well as the brilliant press coverage, it's these kind of things that have made this first month so special. It's often quoted that once your book is out there in the world then it's no longer yours. Two weeks before I was published I blogged about this over at Book Slam, and vowed to stay sanguine in the face of reviews. All reviews. For amidst the rave there have, of course, been a handful that proved less enjoyable to read - and against all reason it's always one negative remark that lingers longer than ten positive comments. It's a truth universally acknowledged that by writing and publishing you're opening yourself to inevitable criticism. But also generosity and warmth, often from unexpected quarters. If The Book of Summers doesn't belong to me anymore then that's just fine - I'm only too happy to share it. And I'll never stop feeling lucky that I can.