Karen Ball

You know why writing groups work? They make you feel guilty. Guilt is a great motivator for me, so I've vowed to put together some bullet points about my idea for a new novel. I really like my idea, but now I need a plot. Plots... A writer's curse? They're not easy, you know!

So with my head down, working hard, I don't necessarily have loads to report. (Though I've just started reading Catching Fire, the sequel to Hunger Games, if you're interested.)

If you want a bit of extra reading, visit The Chocolate Keyboard for her thoughts on series fiction. Now, there's a woman who talks a lot of sense!

Phew, it's hard work being a writer! Yesterday, I spent a full day with two other authors working to one of our gruesome schedules. It really inspired me and I got loads done (even if the RSI is playing up now). On each writing day, we treat ourselves with a yummy dinner afterwards and, my goodness, was I ready to relax. 

I am writing to brief on this latest project. The plus side of this is that there's very little opportunity for authorial navel-gazing. The plot has already been outlined, so all I need to do is turn a storyline into a manuscript and bring my own inspiration to grow a flower from a seedling. And the research! How I love it. I didn't think I would ever enjoy research and now I understand how addictive it is. A few thoughts about historical research:

It depends. If you want to lay out your stall and promote your book as a definitive historical work, accurately representing life as it once was then you really want to nail things. And that will mean a lot of research. It's a field of writing I have no experience of. However, if you're writing a novel inspired by a time and place but that's actually a good romping adventure, I would say do your research but then step away. Do just enough to inspire you, but don't devote six months of your life to research trips and the London Library. You have to get it right enough for the story. Beyond that? It's fiction, remember! (I should say that it's always glaringly obvious when a writer hasn't bothered at all with their research. That's not only disappointing but career damaging.)

The Internet is a marvellous tool and one I use a lot but I can't recommend enough a highly illustrated, accessible non-fiction book. Pictures, pictures, pictures. It really is true that you can learn more from a single image than a thousand words of text. This is why many writers find children's non-fiction books extremely useful. All that information boiled down to its purest essence - and with pretty pictures, too!

I don't have a brain that will ever understand the ins and outs of Crimean War politics, but I do have a brain that can spark into life when I read about what someone ate for dinner or how they washed their clothes. You don't always have to look at the big picture; sometimes it's the tiny details that will empower you as a writer. Search out resources that throw a light on the day-to-day life of people in the past. I promise you that this will fuel your imagination like nothing else. You'll hastily put that research book aside and begin hammering away at the keyboard.

Remember, at some point you have to stop researching and start writing. It is very important to understand when to do this. To be honest, I don't have a long research period in advance. I pull my resources around me, dip into them, flag some pages with Post-it notes and then just get going. I will occasionally stop writing to dip back into my books or turn to the Internet, if I come across a scene that is just begging for some interesting authentic detail. Not everyone would like this approach, but it works for me. If you are someone who does all their research well ahead of the game, I would advise knowing when to put down the books. Writing and procrastination go hand-in-hand. For some people, research will become another form of procrastination. Make sure this isn't you. When you miss your deadline, your editor won't want to know that it's because you just had one more book to read.

I hope these thoughts help!

During the bus ride over to meet my friends yesterday I listened to a Front Row podcast that discussed the pros and cons of creative writing degrees. You can find it here. It was fascinating, with many different contributors and conflicting opinions. Naomi Alderman talked with wry intelligence and humour about the class system in Britain and how our fear of being seen to strive for success may fuel scorn for the study of creating writing. She also admitted that you either have it or you don't have it - the talent to write, I mean. And going by the construction of that last sentence, perhaps I don't have it! But listen to the podcast, I highly recommend it.

Finally, finally - a link here to a fascinating article in The Guardian by Frank Cottrell Boyce about people's ability to write and have children. Judging by some of the very successful and talented writers I know who also - shock, horror! - have a family, I think I know which side of the debate I'm on. But go and have a read, and then let me know what you think.

Have a good week, everyone! 

I've also been reading The Poisoned House by Michael Ford, published in August by Bloomsbury. In the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that I know Michael and work with him. He's a brilliant writer and if I'd come across this book as a 10-year-old girl I'd have devoured it. Insights into the life of a Victorian house maid? Check. Ghost stories? Check. I'd have been tucked up in bed, reading with my torch when I should have been asleep. Yummy.

I went for a run this week and took a spontaneous new route through Wanstead Park. I came across a valley with a pond at the bottom. All I had for company was the sunshine and I felt really privileged to be here. As I left, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd read about a valley just like this as a child. Had it been in a parable from Sunday School? But no, it didn't feel Biblical. Then it hit me. I was sure that I'd read about this valley in Jane Eyre. It wasn't until I arrived home from a day at the office that I was able to check. And there it was, a short paragraph waiting for me:

'All the valley at my right hand was full of pasture-fields, and cornfields, and wood; and a glittering stream ran zig-zag through the varied shades of green, the mellowing grain, the sombre woodland, the clear and sunny lea.'

My valley.

Isn't that amazing? A novel published in 1847, first read by me as a child, seeps back into my life because of a morning run on the outskirts of London.

How do you handle busy workloads? Does tapas feature? 

If you're looking for some light relief of your own, this link has been flying around the writing community this week. Do you write like Tolstoy, James Joyce or, er, Chuck Palahniuk? The answer changes drastically with each pasted extract, so I wouldn't take it too seriously. But it's good for a laugh, and we all need those!

Look at some of the language in those last two sentences. A no, a no and a not. Doesn't sound like much fun to me or very good for the soul. As I learned at last year's Charney Writers Retreat, courtesy of the Scattered Authors Society, these events are about much more than an individual's work. They're about nurturing the collective need to support, advise, share, gossip, eat, drink, and gossip some more. For every writer who spends a year working quietly at a solitary desk, there's one week in the summer where they can find a community of like-minded men and women just waiting to smile, chat and help. Not worth the effort? Then you're a braver writer than me.

But it's not all reassurance and hand-holding, wine and puddings. There's a busy programme of events, and this year it was invigorating. Need feedback on your WIP? Bring along an extract to the sample groups. Want advice on the festival circuit? There's a wealth of expertise if you turn up to the Tuesday evening session. My personal favourite was a morning event entitled 'We're so much more than our work'. Led by Cindy Jefferies, this talk was crucial to me. Shock, horror! Authors were allowed to discuss the good times and the bad times. Insecurities, authorial egos, inspiring poems, sensible reminders - these were all part of the debate. So many wise words in one room and lots of food for thought.

I know what you're thinking. Did you get any actual work done, Karen? I did, a bit. Emphasis on the 'bit'. But that's not really the point. Facebook, Twitter, blogs and email have all worked wonders for empowering writers and bringing them together. Seeing each other face to face, sharing laughter and sometimes tears? Now, that's a whole different ball game. Anyone can fake a jovial status update, safely hidden at home. But on a retreat, when life and commitments are pared away... You don't only connect with new friends, you reconnect with yourself. Afterwards, with identity firmly back in place, you can go back to doing what you do best. Or doing what you're pretty good at. Or are struggling with. But you return reinvigorated. There's still not a website in the world that can do that for me.

Thank you, Scattered Authors Society.

What makes a good literary agent? Picnics wouldn't normally be at the top of my list but now my priorities have most definitely changed. When my agent, Jenny Savill, organised a picnic gathering for her burgeoning list of children's authors I knew that I was with the right woman. Who doesn't want to sit beneath the trees, eating strawberries, comparing notes with other writers? On Friday we gathered in the park behind the offices of Andrew Nurnberg Associates and sat on spread blankets. Twitter, Facebook and email are all well and good, but there's nothing to beat the beaming smiles and conversation that we all shared for a sunny afternoon. Thank you so much, Jenny. This was a real treat, and one not to be forgotten. 

It only gets better. Tomorrow I travel to Charney Manor in Oxfordshire for the writers' retreat organised by the Scattered Authors Society. This will be the second time I attend this event and I am really looking forward to it. I'll know faces this time round, instead of being a nervous newbie. We have a great programme of events, and as the photo below indicates, we don't only talk about writing! French cricket and Pimms featured large last year. A summer ago I enjoyed a quiet room of my own, redrafting my manuscript prior to submitting to an agent (Hello, Jenny!), afternoon snoozes, tea and biscuits and the making of new friends. I look forward to more of the same this year.

Did any of you catch the BBC1 Imagine programme about Diana Athill? If not, I strongly recommend trying to watch it on iPlayer. Diana Athill is my editorial heroine. A down-to-earth, unassuming and eminently sensible woman, she insists that an editor should be invisible, never looking for recognition or public congratulations. I couldn't agree more. If you're looking for accolade, don't become an editor. Not because you don't deserve it, but because that's not what you should be pursuing. An editor is a facilitator, helping someone else achieve their own dream. Well, that's my humble opinion at least, and after many years of editing.

I woke on Friday, as we all did, to pavements baking and flowers blooming. Another day, another stretch of heat. I had no idea I would also be waking to the news that Beryl Bainbridge had passed away. Oh, how I have loved that woman's novels. Slim volumes of spare prose, nary a wasted word, tight exercises in simplicity that might mislead someone into believing that what she did was easy. I loved her imaginative confidence - tackling subjects as diverse and intriguing as the Titanic or the South Pole. I also regularly read her eccentric theatre reviews in The Oldie. She would report on the comfort of the seats as well as the quality of the production, not really caring whether her piece satisfied the normal journalistic demands of theatre review. Not really caring. She didn't care what the world thought, clearly didn't give a damn. I admired that. 

If you're lucky enough to have a book contract, there's a likelihood that your publisher has signed you up for more than one book. Even if there is no firm contract for a second novel, they may ask for first refusal on whatever you turn your hand to next. You're grateful, nay, emboldened by the fact that your publisher seemingly wants more. (Important word, that. Seemingly.) 'I've made it!'

If you want my advice, you'll take a sober moment to consider exactly what that contractual obligation means. Break out the champagne, yes. Celebrate your book deal - for sure! But remember.'More' is a two-way street. Your publisher has shown faith in you. Now, you will have to prove that their faith isn't misplaced. 

And this is where things can get tricky...

First of all, you'll have a deadline. The langorous writing schedule of an uncontracted debut novel is a luxury you'll never have again - or not yet, at least. Work on your first book may have taken years, as you placed the manuscript into a drawer, got on with life, and then pulled the sheafs of paper back out again. It didn't matter. With no deadline in sight, you could take as long as you liked. You had the days and the energy to hone and refine, finally presenting your manuscript as polished as a pearl (hopefully). That's a lot of time spent getting things right. Time you will never have again. An aspiring writer can kick back for a weekend, with no one breathing down their neck. A commissioned writer can kick back for a weekend, sure. But too many lazy weekends and a roomy schedule becomes a tight one. A deadline is still a deadline, and you'd better take it seriously. After all, you want to show your new publisher that you are reliable. Reliable and inspired...

You've been solidly busy on your debut novel. At the back of your head, you've often thought, 'I must get some ideas down for my second novel.' Ideas come, they go. Some work, some don't. As those ideas rise to the surface or sink, you're busy juggling lots of the other balls that have been thrown into the air with publication - revising manuscripts, checking copyedits, remembering to blog, getting yourself on the author circuit, checking in with your agent and probably still holding down a day job. Which doesn't leave a lot of time for new ideas. Make time. Because when your publisher asks, 'What next?' you want to have a good answer. You want to see that person smile.

For the first time in your writing career, professionals are watching you. They have expectations - that you can write, will continue to write and flourish, have a talent that will sell them books. But writers are not performing monkeys. If we could pull bestselling novels out of a hat, we'd all be rich. This is the real toughie. Every new book is a learning curve, with lots of wrong paths and stumbling blocks. Easy to admit when you're officially still learning. Much harder to acknowledge when you're a contracted writer. Who do you turn to when your confidence wobbles? This is where a good agent and a good writing group pay dividends. Don't think you need an agent? When you're in tears at your desk because you don't think you can do this, you need an agent. You don't want your editor to know about your crisis of confidence and your editor probably doesn't want to believe you're capable of a crisis of confidence. Agents do not exist simply to cream off the top percentage of your earnings. They are there as an essential negotiator - not just with your publisher, but with your sanity.

By the time you deliver your second manuscript, your publisher may have an idea of how your debut is subbing in with booksellers. Well? Bad? If your sales are modest, you will have to work hard to convince the publisher to stick with book two. You'd better make it a good'un. After all, you'll soon be hoping for another contract.

Enjoy your launch party, because tomorrow it's someone else's. If there's one piece of advice I could give debut novelists, it's this: remember to carry your pinch of salt around with you. Enjoy the moment, smile and shake hands, pop the corks, thank all the people you need to thank (always thank the people you need to thank). Then remind yourself that there are over 200,000 books published each year in the UK alone. That's a lot of launch parties and many debut novelists. Not all of those books will sell well. Is there someone around to keep your feet on the ground? Good - hold on to them.

Last time it was the novelty of being a 'debut'. You can't call yourself that any more. So what are you now? This is when a writer's confidence can take a nosedive. You've lost your identity. Or your identity has moved on. You decide.

Read all of the above, and you can see why some authors find their knees knocking at their desk. That's a lot of pressure, isn't it? Still having fun? The key to all of this is a professional attitude. Acknowledge the industry you work in. Network, read, research, talk to people. Then approach your second novel with the same industry and discipline that you apply to other areas of your life. Don't take three months off from writing, take three weeks. If you're anything like me, you'll soon be hungry to be back at the keyboard. Draw up a schedule. Even if you haven't been given a deadline yet - give yourself one. Put two very important elements into that schedule - thinking time and rewriting time. The biggest challenge authors face with their follow-up novel is the harsh reality that none of us know what we're going to write until it's been written. It's easy to tell a publisher, 'Oh yes, it will be a humorous psychological thriller set in a boarding school with sharks.' Less easy to pull off when your creative imagination begins to wander down an entirely different avenue. But if you plan enough, give your creativity room to breath, you will get to where you need to be. By this stage in your career (and in an ideal world), you will have a close working relationship with your agent, your editor is championing you and you have a readership. Jewels in any author's crown. Have faith in yourself. Work hard. Let your imagination take flight. Did I mention 'Work hard'? 

It's not just rock stars who have difficult second albums. Follow-up novels can be agonising. But never forget, you're always learning - on your second novel, and beyond. This world of ours divides neatly into two: those with the humility to learn, and those who refuse to admit they have anything left to learn. If you have the humility and the talent and the work ethic, you have every chance of writing a fantastic second novel. But be prepared. It won't be easy. 

Let's not be too dour. At least you won't see your work slated by a teenage NME journalist, you'll never have enough money to buy silly cars and no one will ask you to sing on a charity single. It could be a lot worse. You could be locked in a recording studio with a group of friends you've learned to hate, experimenting with some ironic country and western. You could be wearing flares...

Do you have experience of the difficult second novel? Any survival tips to share?