R.J. Lynch's Blog, page 20

Well, maybe that’s a bit OTT. But this is a very good review of A Just and Upright Man from Francine in Romance Reviews Magazine:

It’s the North of England (1763) and the Enclosures Act has yet to be passed by Parliament (1773). Even so, small plots and common land are enclosed without application to Parliament, which occurred right through from the time of Charles II’s restoration. And this is where the author’s hero, James Blakiston, rides forth and affords insight to his position as overseer (land agent/steward). He is the very man who mediates in disputes and or negotiates terms between a landowner and his tenant cottagers, smallholders and farmers. Subsequently, Blakiston comes to know of the shady secrets of all the parishioners, the rector, and his lusty bible spouting curate.
 As if Blakiston doesn’t have enough to contend with in his duties to his master, (his lordship), a rape and murder occurs in one of his lordship’s villages, which James must initially investigate as part of his working remit. But rumour abounds of hidden treasure spirited away, and what at first seems a simple case of murderous revenge, becomes a far more complicated puzzle to solve. Undaunted, Blakiston sets out to unravel the mystery of a man everyone despised: including the deceased’s own children. Such is no mean task for Blakiston hails from the lesser landed gentry, being that of a squire’s son. While subjected to sideways mistrusting glances from many, others benefit from his fair-minded policies. One young lady, below his rank, sees him for what he is, a lonely young man at heart. Little does Kate Greener know that Blakiston has a past he’s ashamed of, and although she stirs lust from within, he is what he has made of himself: A Just and Upright Man.
 Blakiston treats Kate with respect, and while beating his heart into retreat, she too knows her place in the overall scheme of what is socially acceptable. But can social divide keep them apart, or can love overcome all obstacles set by society? J. R. Lynch has brought to life the country folk from up north, and that of the era in which they exist. This novel is on a par with Thomas Hardy’s meaty offerings of country life and the hardships of the less well off: those beholding to the super-rich of their day. The men who could make or break a family with one word: eviction. Although there’s a large cast of characters, the author introduces each with clarity through the eyes of Blakiston. A Just And Upright Man is nothing short of a very enjoyable and worthwhile read. As this is Book 1 of a series, I can honestly say I’m looking forward to reading book 2.

As I’ve said before, Zappa’s Mam’s a Slapper is due for publication 1st March. I’ve always been aware that there was a slight weakness in one particular aspect, but I couldn’t fix it because I couldn’t quite place it and so many people I trust—people in publishing, not friends and relatives (none of whom have seen a word)—have told me how good the book is that I was okay with letting it go. Then, late last week, I got an email from my editor: I’ve had a bit of a brainwave but I don’t know how you’ll feel about it. Poppy comes looking for Billy and it feels too calculated – her seeking him now he’s famous. I wonder whether he could be the one to seek her? I also think this works in terms of a protagonist leading the action, changing their own destiny. What you’d probably need to do is seed in details in the MS which show that Billy still thinks of her (and this would make sense as he’s quite sentimental and kind.)… What are your thoughts? I know it’s tiresome having redrafted so much and so you might be feeling a little deflated, but I do think it’s worth tweaking this so it reads in the best way possible. 

Deflated? No. I was leaping around, punching the air. Of Course! That’s it. Okay, I have to delete about 25,000 words of a 95,000 word novel and replace them with 25,000 (or so) different words, and do it in one heck of a hurry, but there was a problem and this takes it away. It’s ages since I’ve felt this energised.

For the past 72 hours my day has looked like this:

03.00 Get up and start on the rewrite of Zappa’s Mam.

05.30 Shower. Shave. Have breakfast.

06.00 Return to rewrite of Zappa’s Mam.

10.00 Coffee

10.15 Walk four miles.

11.30 Lunch

12.00 Take nap

14.00 Edit rewrite of Zappa’s Mam.

16.00 Have cup of tea and piece of fruit cake. Read (something written by someone else).

18.00 Dinner, followed by coffee.

20.00 Bed

I haven’t answered the phone or the doorbell before two in the afternoon, no matter what. I know some famous writers have been fuelled almost entirely by alcohol, but that doesn’t work for me—I only drink alcohol on weekends at the best of times and when I’m writing I don’t touch it at all.

There’s 6½ hours of concentrated writing in that schedule and that’s 2½ hours more than I usually do, but I would struggle to stop—the change she suggested is so right that it’s powering me forward.

What would we do without editors?

I’ve been writing—fiction and non-fiction—for a long time. My first sale was an article to Good Housekeeping. I didn’t realise till later that I was starting at the top and would struggle to stay there. If you’d like to hear the very first thing I ever sold to the BBC you can download it here. And I can go back further than that, to the age of ten when I read a story of mine from the stage of Benton Park Primary School in Newcastle upon Tyne to the assembled pupils and parents. Whatever I’ve written has always been full of false starts—an opening chapter or chapters that were only there as scaffolding to get the story going and had disappeared by the time I finally wrote END on the bottom of the last page.

Zappa’s Mam’s a Slapper was different—and a very odd experience. I wrote the first sentence: All I’d said was, I wouldn’t mind seeing her in her knickers. Then I sat there staring at it thinking, “Where on earth did that come from?” Then I wrote the rest of the first chapter. And it’s still there. Zappa’s Mam will be published on March 1st and the opening line and chapter are exactly what they were when I started writing. That has never happened to me before.

All the way through the writing, editing and rewriting of Zappa’s Mam, the protagonist—Billy—was looking over my shoulder. There never was a Billy, he’s one hundred per cent my invention, but the was there. There. Watching what I was doing. Talking to me. “Tell them about the anger management.” “Don’t forget the bike.” “I didn’t know Regus then—that came later.”

I’ve had this experience of characters talking to me, guiding me, again since then—the book that follows Zappa’s Mam is When the Darkness Comes and I couldn’t have written that in anything like its present form if I hadn’t had Barabbas and Ras Tafar butting in with their comments and demands, but Billy was the first. He took me to a new level of intensity in my writing. I’m grateful to him, though the experience was a bit like banging your head against a wall—nice when it stops.