A Tale of Two Women: genre and purpose

You: So your book is about lesbians?

Me: No. There are two lesbians in it.

You: So it’s a lesbian book?

Me: What does that mean?

You: That it’s for lesbians.

Me: What about all the other characters in it?

You: Like who?

Me: Robin, Julian, Andreas, Jon, Hal.

You: Are they gay?

Me: No. They’re all straight guys.

You: So why is it about lesbians?

Me: There are lesbians in it. Along with all the other people. A bit like the real world?...

I think I shall be having this conversation for a long time.

There are two questions that I am asked time and again about my novel: what genre is it and why did you write it? Neither has a neat answer. I didn’t write it with one target audience in mind. And yes, the plot centres around two women who are going to fall in love. But chapter by chapter we meet the other people in their lives, friends, family, colleagues and get to look at a whole range of attitudes and responses to a same sex relationship. Which is my purpose.

My purpose is an exploration of sexual identity, prejudice and relationships in this diversely fabulous 21^st century. My hope is that readers will see themselves in the characters, and maybe even challenge their own views a little. And yes, I was a little worried that lesbian readers would take me to task.

I am no longer worried.

I had some feedback from a lesbian reader who compared her experience of reading …but I love you to that of reading Jeanette Winterson’s ‘Oranges are not the only fruit’ many years ago, as it resonates with how she feels and thinks. Well, that’s a reward. My real purpose behind writing is to touch people, one way or another. I’m thrilled to have touched this woman.  

Virtual world…there are people out there!

Hubby gets a phone call from his mate across the road, “Did you know your wife is all over the internet?”

Hubs replies, “Where do think I got her?”

Which of those two lines is true? Behave! The first, obviously…

I have been hearing time and again of the importance of having a social media presence as a new author. Have to say, I wasn’t keen. There is stuff on Facebook and Twitter that is inane, embarrassing, or downright exposing as people forget to use their social filter and think about how public the information can become. (An aside: it’s like mobile phone conversations. People have got so used to talking aloud in the street, they no longer stop to think about what passers by might hear. I have been party to news on bank balances, abortions and domestic violence!)

Anyway, since the launch of my novel, I’ve had to seriously get to grips with a bigger virtual world than Facebook (which is genuinely people I actually know). Yes, it was time to Tweet.

Well, I’ll be honest. I felt like a right plonker talking random nonsense to nobody out there who wanted to hear. And although I want to stir up interest in my book, I don’t just want to be a repetitive advertisement. Then I had a helpful hint from Twitter suggesting I build a sort of profile that indicates my interests. That began to make sense as I have noticed increased traffic to my website followed with messages that indicate that it is often some aspect of yourself that people warm to, which in turn leads them to notice your work.

This does take us back to the question of exposure. You want to widen your appeal, but not sell your soul. It can be done (I hope). For example, on my website is a link to a filmed speech I made to the NHS at a conference a couple of years ago, talking about the role of carers when their cared for is in hospital. It’s a passionate plea. It’s already out there in the ether, so I might as well own it.

What’s that got to do with a sexy, lesbian led coming out story? Nothing. Except that straight away you can see that I’m not just a raunchy cougar delivering mummy erotica (imagine!!), but a complex woman with a busy life. That’s a lot easier to relate to. 

Well, it’s been a funny couple of weeks on Twitter, because guess what I discovered? That virtual world has people in it! And those people are talking and sharing, and spreading the word so much further than I could do alone. I am grateful. I am impressed.

Being Jo Caulfield's anchor woman...

Being Jo Caulfield’s anchor woman…better the devil you know!

Some of you will already know that I run the programme at Bridgwater Arts Centre in Somerset, as a volunteer. A perk of this insanity is that I get to meet lots of artists from musicians to actors to comedians.

Last night, I arrived with family and friends hoping to sit quietly in a corner to enjoy Jo Caulfield’s ‘Better the devil you know’ show. But I was met in reception with, “You’re introducing Jo Caulfield, ok?”

Eek!

You see it’s one thing introducing a band, or gig because you just have to shout out their name in an excited voice and clap a lot. But a comedian? Well, I’ve only ever seen them introduced by other comedians – you know, the warm-up guy, who says something funny.

Problem is: I am the world’s worst teller of jokes. I either remember the story but forget the punchline, or I remember the punchline with no clue as to how to get to it. So, slightly panicked, that is what I said for my intro, adding, “Lucky for you to be in the hands of the sharp-witted, funny Jo Caulfield instead.” Phew.

We had a little chat in the interval as I cheekily pointed out that we were on the same page in the local paper last week, and gave her a copy of my novel. She graciously accepted and got me back by adding, “You’ll introduce the second half?”

“Yes, of course,” I squeaked.

Well I was determined to be funny this time, and I’m planning a pretend joke to poke fun at myself or some such genius. And I got my laugh: after taking the stage, reaching for the mic and promptly dropping it to the floor with a thud! Needless to say, the gifted comedienne and the audience got some mileage out of that. And I’m quite sure Jo felt the title of her tour validated once more.

I hope she likes the book...

…but I love you www.indigodreamsbookshop.com/#/sinead-gillespie/4579694835

50 Shades of Dr Who

50 shades of Dr Who: it’s a timey-wimey thing.

I have decided that writing a book is like folding time. (Yes, I may have spent too much time with the lovely son in the company of select science fiction).

But it’s true. Time is elastic. For example, there’s the big long time when I worry about what to write, how to address the structure, the different voices etc. Then there’s the stretchy procrastinating time filled with a million displacement activities.  Then there’s the manic time in fast-motion as my arm aches trying to keep up with the words that are pouring out onto the page. (Yes, I am a pen and paper girl).

Next is the slower type-it-up stage where time plods as slowly as my rubbish four finger typing.

Eventually, I send the manuscript off and time stops! Well, it must have, because no-one is bombarding me with replies, begging for my wonderful work…

Stopped time has been anything from months to years. This time, it worked. The reply came from the interested publisher. Woohoo! And time became a workload of serious attention as the Editor appeared.

Guess what? Time stopped again. I had to wait for my place on the list…whenever that might be.

And bang. A big bang for me. Launch date is announced and it’s only weeks away. Watch that time fly as press are contacted, posters and cards made, parties planned and strategies considered.

Lovely son tells everyone he meets about my book, describing it as ‘a bit 50 shades’, which he hasn’t read so I’m not sure what his connection is…who cares? At least he’s proud of me.

And we get to now. …but I love you is released this week. You can read about it following this link to my author page www.indigodreamsbookshop.com/#/sinead-gillespie/4579694835

It’s on sale there, and at Waterstone’s and Amazon. 

And I am so happy that my time is full up.

Airplanes and Aspies

Airplanes and beloved Aspie.

I think terror is the word.

He’s terrified of flying and I’m terrified of putting him through it, whilst also knowing it will be worth it at the end. I am also terrified of what other passengers will think of us while I talk whatever shit is necessary to keep him sane for the duration (on one occasion that involved hijacking Kate Garraway in the toilet queue with something like, ‘‘scuse me famous woman’  - couldn’t remember her name- ‘would you come and talk to my son a minute, cos he really needs the loo and he is too scared to get out of his seat and you can just talk about being on the telly and that will distract him. OK?’ And bless the woman, she did just that).

So next time, I thought ahead – drugs. Here’s what not to do: walk into your local Boots, ask for the pharmacist, then say, “I need something to drug an 18 yr old boy, to take him on a plane.” I can only imagine I looked a lot hotter in those days, because stressed mummy was not what he saw when he told me he could advise no such thing.

Well in a moment of madness or desperation, hubs and I decided about ten days ago to book a last minute holiday. In Spain. Never been. It’s not too long a flight, we can go from the local airport and beloved son hasn’t got too long to panic. Mmmmm.

Stress levels through the roof. ‘What sort of plane is it?’ He means is it big enough that he won’t feel every movement (which he does because of his damaged ears). I don’t know.

‘What is there to do in Spain?’ I gave him a list of places to research.

‘Will someone try to blow up the plane?’ I’m thinking a wee flight to Malaga is an unlikely target, but apparently that’s not reassuring. 

Anyway, thanks to my predilection for nightmares and consequent sleep deprivation, I have some very low dose tablets that just might save the day/flight. Of course, I’m the one who’ll be taking them. (No, M’lud, I’m not winking at anyone).