Under the covers: Is the grass always greener on the other side?

UK FICTION MARKET A fantastic place for British South Asian writers

Tina Jackson

Fox & Windmill is the UK’ s first independent book company for British South Asian writers, set up in Bradford in 2021 by Habiba Desai and Sara Razzaq. Since launching it has been shortlisted in The Bookseller FutureBook Awards and the British Muslim Awards.

‘Fox & Windmill will be publishing YA and literary fiction, ’ said Sara and Habiba. ‘We are specifically looking for fantasy and sci-fi manuscripts. ’

Fox & Windmill set up in April 2021 by publishing and partnerships director Habiba and submissions director Sara while the UK was under lockdown. The co-founders of Fox & Windmill met while volunteering at the Bradford Literature Festival in 2016 and began having conversations about diversity in publishing. ‘With the help of our mentor Kevin Duffy, of Bluemoose Books, we launched last year and launched our first publication on 24 June 2022 at the Bradford Literature Festival, which is Into the Wilds, an anthology of short stories and poetry from British South Asian writers. ’

Sara and Habiba are hoping to start off by publishing two manuscripts a year –‘ and then as many stories as we can possibly share! We ’ ve received some really exciting stories so far and we look forward to working with the writers on their manuscripts. ’

Sara and Habiba are looking forward to building on what they ’ ve started. ‘We hope to be running Fox & Windmill full time and look forward to sharing amazing stories. If we ’ re able to publish a story that resonates with one person, then we ’ ve done our job. We want to continue working with schools, festivals and libraries to develop and allow Fox & Windmill to become a hub for creatives to share their ideas. ’

Fox & Windmill is currently are looking for fantasy and scifi manuscripts. ‘A good book to Fox & Windmill is a story that transports you somewhere else, ’ they say. ‘We look for a unique plot line, interesting character development and an inspirational journey. This is why we ask for the first three chapters and synopsis as it allows us to immediately understand the premise of the book and we can work out if it ’ s a good fit for us. We look for a story that draws us in straight away. We are also very keen to know the inspirations behind the story and we ’ re always excited when our writers get in touch with us. ’

Mentor Kevin Duffy has inspired Sara and Habiba in terms of their approach. ‘We would advise prospective authors to do something small every day. This is a piece of advice we stick to, and it was given to us by our mentor. ’ Their other advice to writers seeking publication reflects their own warm, hard-working ethos. ‘Work on your story and hone your craft. It ’ s always a great idea to give your book to others to read for their opinion, but also leave your work for a bit and then come back to it. Sometimes it ’ s good to take your eyes away from the pages in order to recognise where you would like to make any edits and changes. We ’d also say to network and make conversation with people in the publishing community. There are so many pathways to publishing a book now and social media plays a great tool in helping you make those connections. Don ’ t be shy to email people, get in touch with publishing companies whose dynamic fits with yours and who you think is a good fit for you. ’

Writers from a British South Asian background can submit to Fox & Windmill by sending the first three chapters and a one-page synopsis.

Writers published by Fox & Windmill will be paid an advance and royalties.

Website: https://foxandwindmill.co.uk/

Pinter Prize for Blackman

Former Children ’ s Laureate Malorie Blackman, author of the YA alternative history series Noughts & Crosses, is the winner of the 2022 PEN Pinter Prize, awarded annually to a writer of outstanding literary merit resident in the United Kingdom, the Republic of Ireland or the Commonwealth who casts an ‘ unflinching, unswerving ’ , showing a define the real truth of our lives and our societies. ’

Blackman will now select a co-winner from a shortlist of international writers, a writer who is active in defence of freedom of expression, often at great risk to their own safety and liberty, who will be honoured as an International Writer of Courage. Blackman will receive her Prize and her co-winner will be announced at a ceremony in October at the British Library. The PEN Pinter Prize was established in 2009 by the charity English PEN, which defends freedom of expression and celebrates literature, in memory of NobelLaureate playwright Harold Pinter.

Allie Reynolds

The Australian thriller author talks surfing, sunshine and inquisitive parrots with

When Allie Reynolds was fourteen she had a Saturday job in a second-hand bookstore and dreamed of being a writer. After several years competing at snowboarding, she trained as a teacher and taught English for fifteen years. Writing was a hobby until her dream came true with a book deal for her debut thriller, Shiver, which allowed her to become a fulltime novelist.

‘My writing days are frequently all too short, ’ she says. ‘I’ m a single mum of two small and very energetic boys. They ’ re early risers so my day starts about 6am with a mug of coffee. I juggle my boys with social media for a couple of hours before school, then return to my desk by nine to write, breaking off for morning tea and lunch. I snack constantly as I write. After lunch I write until 2.50 then drop everything to do the school run. I check social media again in the evening and, if I have any energy left, continue writing once my kids are in bed.

‘Shiver was the first book I actually planned, spending a month plotting scenes onto Post-it notes (different colours for different timelines and viewpoints), shuffling them about to find the best order and sticking them on a giant whiteboard. After creating character profiles and timelines, I wrote the book in six months.

‘I’ m a messy writer. My first draft is terrible, with lots of crossings out and scribbles. I edit as I go. By the time I reach the end, most sentences have been edited hundreds of times.

‘Shiver came out during the UK lockdown when bookstores were closed so my publisher, Headline Books, lined up lots of interviews which I did via Zoom. In the months before the launch, I wrote articles and short fiction which appeared in magazines and newspapers around publication, and I answered questions for bloggers ’ interviews. Before my book deal I hated the idea of social media but, to my surprise, I really enjoy it and have found a whole community of readers and writers.

‘My second novel, The Bay, out now, is set on a remote Australian beach. A strong sense of place is so important to me in fiction and I wanted a totally different setting to Shiver ’ s snowy mountains. The Bay combines aspects of two of my favourite stories – The Beach and Point Break. I love the way these stories take us to whole new worlds – the world of young backpackers in an apparent beachside paradise, and the world of thrill-seekers. The Bay traps a cast of young surfers in an idyllic but dangerous natural environment and asks how well do you really know your friends?

‘I wrote Shiver without knowing if anyone would ever read it. With The Bay, I felt so much pressure to impress my publishers and readers. I was full of self-doubt and secondguessing myself, plus every single idea seemed too similar in some way to Shiver.

‘I live in Queensland, Australia and am a keen surfer but had to ban myself from surfing while I wrote The Bay – ironic when surfing plays a big part in the story. It took several months to plan and over a year to write, with numerous structural edits and several different endings. My amazing agent (Kate Burke at Blake Friedmann) is very hands-on with the editing, as are the editors at my publishers, which was a fantastic help but my self-confidence took a battering with all the changes I was being asked to make.

‘The lockdown was a very distracting time. Recently divorced, I found myself at home with my sons for weeks on end, suffering the effects of a head injury – a surfing accident. The final draft was delivered to my publishers a year overdue.

‘Shiver needed almost no research, as I’d lived and trained as a snowboarder like the characters in the story. For The Bay I researched the psychology of extreme sports athletes, injuries and traumas, big wave surfing, rock climbing, cliff jumping, Australian flora and fauna, cyclones and spear guns.

‘Writing is my dream job, but it ’ s definitely not a nine-tofive. Weekends no longer exist for me since my book deal. I worked Christmas Day and Easter Day last year. It ’ s hard to switch off. Some of my best ideas arrive when I’ m trying to sleep and need to be scribbled down. I need to work on a better life-work balance. ‘For my third book, I hope to return to snow for another mountain-set thriller. ’

W R I T I N G P L A C E

‘My first draft is written in a notebook at the kitchen table. Every few pages, I head to my desk in the bedroom to type it up on my laptop, editing as I go. With my long history of back injuries, a comfortable seat is vital. My physiotherapist recommended a saddle stool and it’s brilliant. Sometimes I use the table on my balcony with sunshine on my back and the breeze fluttering the palm tree leaves. Inquisitive parrots perch on the railing to watch me but the insects are a huge distraction and after a few mosquito bites I escape back inside. ’

A mild case of Ovid

Do writers always think the grass is greener on the other side? Gillian Harvey chews the cud.

‘Look over there?’ ‘Where?’ ‘There, Bessie, ‘Wow, that ’ s so just me l over the fence. ’ ush grass right there. ’

‘I know, right? And ours is dried up and coarse. ’

‘Man, that sheep is so lucky. ’

‘I know right? Moo. ’

We all know the saying about the grass being greener on the other side. Until recently, like most people, I assumed it was a saying coined by two cows in conversation on a farm.

Turns out, it ’ s actually a 16th century proverb – who knew?! And in fact the original sentiment can be dated back to a chap named Ovid who was penning poetry back in BC: the harvest is always more fruitful in another man ’ s fields.

Yes. Of course. Of course he was a writer. Because writerly insecurity has been around, no doubt, ever since the first cavewoman picked up a stone and scratched something on the wall, then wondered whether she could have phrased it better.

We will never know what caused Ovid to write these insightful lines. Perhaps he was on social media comparing his writing accolades to others ’ . Or perhaps he realised he didn ’ t have as many followers on Twitter as one of his peers. 2,000 years on, we can only speculate.

But regardless of what rattled Ovid’ s chain, I think most of us will relate to the sentiment: will recognise that horrible feeling you get as a writer when your personal chips are down and everyone else seems to be on the up.

Some call this feeling professional envy. But when it comes to writers, I think it needs a different name. Because envy suggests we ’ re coveting something someone else has (the grass, in Bessie ’ s case), wanting to take it for ourselves. And I don ’ t think any of us want to take something away from another writer.

We want to join them, not beat them.

So if you you ’ re currently going through a bout of Ovid don ’ t feel bad about yourself. It doesn ’ t make you a bad person. It just makes you a writer.

It ’ s important, too, to remember that even when the grass seems greener, it ’ s often an illusion.

Bessie herself discovered this when she finally burst through the fence only to find the land the sheep were grazing on was boggy and covered in dung.

Similarly, I recently discovered even writers at the top of their game seem to suffer from bouts of insecurity. I’d always assumed that becoming a bestseller or a household name would mark the end of writerly angst. But recently someone told me of a writer who ’d achieved the #1 spot, but then felt like a failure when her second book only made #2.

In that case, maybe it ’ s better to be at the bottom of the ladder looking up, than being at the top, afraid you might fall at any moment.

If I ever make it more than a couple of rungs up, I’ll let you know.

My most recent bout of ‘ grass is greener syndrome ’ came a few months ago when I was out of contract. I was writing A Year at the French Farmhouse but didn ’ t know if it would ever go anywhere, so had a mild case of Ovid on hearing friends who were still in contract MOANING at how difficult it was.

‘Don ’ t they realise how LUCKY they are?’ I thought to myself. ‘If I was in their shoes, I’d be over the moon. ’

Since then, one of these lucky contract-havers has written a novel that her editor didn ’ t like, and had to start from scratch. Others have stressed over deadlines, or have bitten their nails to the quick waiting to hear whether their book is on point. Clearly, even when in contract, an easy passage is not guaranteed. Plus, for the record, the cow who jumped over the moon? Afraid that ’ s just a nursery rhyme.

Anyway, now, I’ m actually in the greener field; writing my second novel for Boldwood. And believe me, while it ’ s nice to have found a home for my work, it ’ s still tough to get pen to paper at times.

I suppose I’ ve come to realise that no matter how successful you get, you will probably experience something others might describe as ‘ professional envy ’ from time to time. And it ’ s completely normal. Just ask Ovid. Or Bessie the English Longhorn.

And I don ’ t believe it is envy in the real sense. It ’ s admiration, self-doubt and renewed determination to work hard and get to where we want to be. Experiencing a mild case of Ovid doesn ’ t have to make you a bovid.