Wednesday 25 May 2011

A Chronicler Of Lives

Tomorrow sees the publication of my second novel, Cold Cruel Winter, a continuation of the Richard Nottingham series begin in The Broken Token. At the end of last week I received the first copy of it, a lovely hardback with a wonderful cover, enhanced by some delightful quotes pulled from reviews for the back cover.

When I began that first book I had no idea that it would become a series, that Richard Nottingham and John Sedgwick would take on lives of their own. But that’s exactly what’s happened. In my head they’re living, breathing people, and the Leeds of the 1730s is as alive to me as the city centre I sometimes walk around.

At this point I’m midway through book 4 – the third should appear early in 2012. It’s a decidedly odd feeling, popping into someone’s life periodically and describing what’s going on with them. But that, I guess, is just what a series of books hopes to achieve, to transport the reader back into this other world again and again.

I’m proud of Cold Cruel Winter. To me, the writing has improved greatly, it flows more easily, and there’s a good tale to tell. There’s more depth to the characters, as I know them more thoroughly, their voices are louder and more individual. They’ve all grown, as part of the real pleasure as a writer is describing that growth, those changes, how lives have moved on. I’m not the author so much as the chronicler of lives, and I’d have it no other way.

Thursday 12 May 2011

That Library Appearance...

There can be nothing quite so lovely, or so daunting, for an author as to talk to a group about his book. I felt flattered that Chapel Allerton library in Leeds had had all the tickets for my appearance there snapped up, and it was a good crowd sitting there. I talked. They asked questions (after an initial hesitation). Some of them, in the reading group there, had already read The Broken Token. Others hadn’t, so it was a no spoilers situation.

Two members of the library staff remembered my mother, an avid library user until her death, and one even recalled my father. That, perhaps, was the most gratifying thing of all for me, that sense of continuation. Plus the chance to walk around the old neighbourhood (even with blisters on my heels on aching feet from a pair of Doc Marten shoes that didn’t fit as well as they should). Old home week – or afternoon, at least.

As the icing on a delicious cake, a woman arrived bearing a tipstaff or cudgel from the period. It’s a lovely object, dated (apparently) 1719. It might be ceremonial, no one knows. She doesn’t even know how it ended up in her family, but having the chance to hold it gave me a real connection to Richard Nottingham. That was a magical moment for me.

There were great questions that required long answers, even if my voice was giving out towards the end. And, once it was over, they descended on me to buy copies. I’d taken 12 and could have sold more. Always nice, and it more than paid for my train fare and dinner (with a friend and her daughter) beforehand.

The only downside was time spent in the old St. Matthew’s graveyard, now a neglected and overgrown tangle. I know there are some fantastic old graves there, it just seems such a pity when, with a little effort, they could be on show to everyone, and people remembered.

Friday 6 May 2011

On Libraries...And More

It’s been a little while since I blogged, partly because of hard work and partly because of a much-needed break in sunny Devon (and it was gloriously sunny, too, with the sea right at our door. Well, 30 yards away).

Cold Cruel Winter
appears later this month. The first two chapters are up on ScribD, there’s an audio excerpt, my website (www.chrisnickson.co.uk) has been revamped – you can find the links there – and I’m all set.

I’m not doing many events to coincide with the book’s release, but I will be talking to a group in Nottingham that’s read The Broken Token, which should be real fun. The other event, next Wednesday, is in Leeds, and it’s given me pause to reflect on how special these events can be.

It’s at Chapel Allerton library. Until I left home at 18 I never lived further than a mile from that library. I first went there when I was three, it was my treasure house of books. At primary school my class would go there every week. I discovered so many authors there, Henry Treece, Jack Kerouac, probably an endless list. It was my mother’s local library until she died. We might have had very different taste in literature, but she used the library regularly. So, for me, it’s a real return to my roots, and that strikes as me a lovely, beautiful thing.

Under the cuts being proposed by the coalition in government, many future writers might not have the chance to write the words I just wrote. That’s robbing them of a future, and of an education they can’t get anywhere else. That’s not just a sin, it’s a crime, and we all need to do everything we can to prevent it happening. Not just for ourselves – I’m still an avid user of the library – but for the future.

The other part to this comes from an email I received from someone researching family history who came across The Broken Token. She evidently doesn’t have the real Richard Nottingham as an ancestor, but she does have a tipstaff – cudgel, truncheon – from the period that’s been handed down in her family. I has two brass badges, one the emblem of George 1, the other the hanging sheep of Leeds with the date 1719. How it relates to her family she’s not sure, but she’s hoping to attend next week’s event and bring it with her. The thought that I might be handling something that could have been touched by the original Richard Nottingham is aweful, in the very best sense. That’s what you call a connection with your character. If it happens, there will be pictures. There have to be.