New year, new book

I love new beginnings. Mondays. School years. Moving days. Weddings. And Januarys! When the door shuts on the old year with a satisfying click and there’s only uncluttered newness and crisp quiet ahead. By February, annoying quibbles and unwanted turns of fate inevitably start pushing in again, but January is like perfectly fresh snow, like the first stirrings of a sunrise or a new puzzle, just emptied out of the box.

And this year, January’s metaphorical blank page coincides with an actual physical one for me. At the end of last year, my plucky doctor-in-training Agnes successfully ventured into the world of 1950s medicine (for her story of love and dark secrets, see The Life I Stole), and it’s time to turn my thoughts to a new project.

But first: good-bye to old friends

People often ask whether a published book is ever properly finished for an author. Would I, given the chance, like to go back and unpick a small plot hole, fix a sneaky error, gloss over something that so obviously needs glossing, and why-oh-why didn’t I do it in the first place?

It’s a tricky one, because, yes, I’m a very orderly kind of person (cough, ‘obsessive’) and I have been known to tidy the chewing gum displays at the grocery store while waiting in the queue. But the reality of a story, any story, is that it is never completely finished. It is never perfect. Every character could be deepened further, every plot twist made slightly more believable, every setting given added vitality. Even when a book is in the hands of readers, it is forever a work-in-progress, because with every new person reading it, the story takes on a slightly different shape, changes and evolves according to the individual’s needs and perceptions. And something that might be a flaw in the eyes of one reader, might add texture and nuance for another.

So, the moment a story is between book covers, I don’t ever look back. I’ve poured everything I had into that book, sealed up all the little cracks I could see, and when it is finished, it feels, not completely perfect maybe, but whole. Letting that book go into the world is a bit like shutting the door on the old year, down to that same satisfying mental click of closure. One last look over your shoulder to remember all its good and not-so-good-bits, then letting it rest there in peace — pretty, almost-perfect, whole — before you walk happily on into January.

Aaaand onwards!

So The Life I Stole is really and truly done, and…. Book 5 awaits! At the moment it still is a heap of puzzle pieces fresh out of the box, but a few sections are already taking shape. We’re heading back to Cornwall (it’s been a while since Summer of Secrets), the time will be 1945, just weeks after the war is over, and a young woman is taking on a teaching position at a posh girls’ college. A wild, mysterious coastal setting, a small town rife with secrets, a group of young women up against dark goings-on that force them to be fierce and stand up for themselves… Who can ask for more?! Stay tuned for more information soon….