"Write what you know" they say.

Even of what you know is benefits advice work and writing stories about it only pays enough to keep your colleagues in biscuits!



Saturday 7 November 2015

NaNoWriMo? No!

Here we are, a week into 'National Novel Writing Month' (aka NaNoWriMo) and, although I had serious intentions of using this as the spur to send narrowboat-based accidental sleuth Daphne Randall off on her travels again, I have too many other writing loose ends to tie up first.  The final installment of 'Claimant Commitment' has been turned into a bargain-priced ebook (free tomorrow, if you've been waiting), but I still have the extensive corrections and suggestions from the last member of the 'Limited Capability' proof-reading posse to consider and incorporate (where we agree!) into the paperback version of that story, before Daphne can cast off again.  In fact I shall probably rework 'CC' into fewer chunkier installments too, so Daphne has plenty of time for another beer before she has to go anywhere.

One of the reasons I'm behind schedule is that I've been messing about having altogether too much fun experimenting with the unfamiliar genre of comedy horror writing, as you might have seen from the last couple of posts.  This led, appropriately enough on Halloween, to the surprisingly terrifying experience of reading a piece of my work (the zombie-themed short story now rechristened 'The Curse of the Brown Envelope') to a public audience at Hanley's Central Library, since it had entertained and amused.the host of the 'Dose of Dark Fiction' event enough to include it.  As the host in question was Dan Weatherer, a Staffordshire author (and playwright, poet, film-maker and more besides), with an impressive haul of awards for his various works and a razor-sharp line in flash fiction, this was quite an accolade.

That the experience was initially so nerve-wracking was surprising.  I'm used to addressing audiences, sometimes large ones of well-informed professionals at that, and it doesn't usually give me 'butterflies' these days.  I was even on familiar ground as, coincidentally, the last time I faced a large crowd was in the JRR Tolkien room of Hanley Library, though on that occasion myself and a colleague were discussing the impact of the Tory General Election victory on the Social Security system.  Of course, I couldn't resist slipping some Middle Earth references into my presentation on the Benefits Cap, although with most people familiar with Tolkien's books or Peter Jackson's films, that's rather different to slipping chunks of detailed Social Security law into a horror-themed short story and expecting your audience to know where the laughs should come.

Frankly, I was expecting to die, and to do so every bit as gruesomely as the unfortunate denizens of the real horror writers' tales, despite supportive words from Father Darkness himself and copious refills of library tea.

I was the last of the 'guests authors' to do their turn.  I had sat enthralled and appalled as a ferocious female vampire stalked the prom in Blackpool, a phantom tea-lady wreaked revenge on a pair of ne'er-do-wells thieving from a disused potbank, the hooves of a ghostly steed clattered on equally ghostly cobbles and four foolish school friends found out too late that a childhood prank had raised more than just the hairs on the back of their necks.  Dan Weatherer proved an extremely generous host, allowing most of us more time than he gave himself.  He read short shocking tales in which over-zealous heretic-hunters went to fires hotter than any they had ever kindled and a much-loved doll might have been more than she seemed, finishing with a piece of flash-fiction to leave us checking our own shadows.

So perhaps it was no surprise that I could see the papers my story was printed on trembling in my hands as I stepped up to read 'The Curse of the Brown Envelope'!  I explained the strange provenance of the story and that the principal characters had stepped out of my usual 'welfare rights lit' output, which was itself my one woman war against Channel 5's '(insert vaguely derogatory slang expression) on benefits' output.  My papers continued to shake.

Fortunately, the audience followed Toby and Martin's ad hoc 'work capability assessment' of undead client Ernie the Zombie and laughed heartily and appreciatively at the points where I thought the jokes were.  There was enthusiastic applause when, parched and desperately in need of yet another cup of tea (I am a benefits adviser by trade, after all), I reached my conclusion.

I had successfully passed myself off as a proper author in public for the first time, and lived to tell the tale!

Huge thanks once again to Dan Weatherer for this opportunity to scare myself silly (find out more about Dan Weatherer/Father Darkness here - if you dare!), Catherine Green, Alan Barnett, Anita Oxford and Ken Elliott for letting me share a platform with them, and to everyone at Hanley Library, especially Emma George, her mum, and the welcoming and talented City Voices writing group.

My next gig in the JRR Tolkien room is later this month, when I'm the support act for my colleague Tina Mendolia as we discuss the issues people may face when 'invited' to claim Personal Independence Payment and so terminate their claim for Disability Living Allowance.

Scary?  You bet it is!