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I’m proud as punch to have a mate from my home city on the blog today. John and I are also proud to be waving the flag for northern voices in literature, having both been long listed for the Guardian’s ‘Not the Booker� Prize. John is the author of the fantastic Amy and the Fox and one of the directors of the punk publishers Armley Press, based here in Leeds. I’m a huge fan of Armley Press and hope to work with them � in any capacity we can wangle � in the future. I like their ethos and the way they want to give the north a more prominent place in terms of literature. Enjoy John’s article below:

In 2001 I finished writing a novel whose genesis went back a decade to when I’d been teaching in Greece. Now a London resident, I managed to bag an agent who kindly made me edit the hell out of it until we had something good on our hands. But times were tight (as always) and mainstream publishers, however much they said they loved it, were unwilling to take a risk on an unknown author like me� unless, of course, they were already a celebrity. Step forward, ‘novelists� Katy Price, Alan Titchmarsh, Ann Widdecombe and legions of other literary geniuses that had somehow been hidden up to now by the limelight.

My novel, Hot Knife, was eventually published seven years later by a new ‘punk� publisher, Armley Press, in my original hometown of Leeds, the setting for the trilogy that it became. Armley Press were scornful of the established media and publishing industry, with its distinctly southern, metropolitan bias, and it may only have been finding them that encouraged me to write any more books at all � I had a day job as a university teacher that kept my mind stimulated and paid the bills but left little time for writing. In fact, two of the books I went on to produce were written while I was off work convalescing from a serious medical procedure and with plenty of time on my hands.

Sometime later, my wife fell ill and did not recover. After her death in 2014 I quit my job and sold up in London to move back up north for the closer support of friends and fam

ily. I was retired now and intended to live a quiet life scribbling away at my books, stories and articles. Armley Press’s relative inertia concerned me, though, and I put it to its director, Mick McCann, that I’d be happy to help him find some new authors. After all, up to then, it was just him and me, and as good as we thought we were, surely there were others out there worth publishing.

Once we put the word out, submissions poured in, and before long I found myself becoming a director of the company � though all I actually did was just read and correct things, just as I had in my former life as a teacher! Within a year we’d set up a website (armleypress.com) and published new books by Ray Brown, Samantha Priestley, Chris Nickson and Nathan O’Hagan. Nathan’s book, The World is (Not) a Cold Dead Place, which had also been wooed then rejected by the London literati, particularly gathered attention, getting plugs on national radio and being lauded in some press quarters as a cult novel comparable to A Confederacy of Dunces. The roster has continued to grow since then, with David Siddall, K.D. Thomas, Mark Connors and M.W.Leeming joining the Armley Press Gang, which was mob-handedly represented at this summer’s Big Bookend ‘rock festival for words�.

You can order Amy and the Fox from Amazon by clicking here

So life in Leeds has not been as tranquil and hermitic as I expected. Instead, I find myself buzzing off to meetings, festivals and book launches up and down the land or spending long hard days inverting other people’s upside down apostrophes. (I also deejay, but that’s another story.) Not that I’m complaining. Armley Press now has ten authors where before it had two, we have a website regularly posting new stories and blogs, Hot Knife is optioned for film production and two of our books � Mark Connors�

Stickleback and my own Amy and the Fox � are on the Guardian’s Not The Booker Prize 2016 long-list.

All achievements I can’t help but feel proud of, that have helped me through a difficult period of my life and, I hope, helped to champion the north as the home of quality literature in an egalitarian cultural environment.

You can vote for John’s novel in the ‘Not the Booker� by clicking

I’m over the moon to welcome my good friend, Jane Isaac to the blog today. Jane and I met through Legend Press and so I was keen to start reading her books. I started with The Truth Will Out because that’s the first book I saw on Amazon and the cover drew me in. Once I started I couldn’t put it down. I read the way you might travel a fast paced river � dragged in and swept along and deposited, safe but very shaken, at the end.

I absolutely need to read DCI Helen Lavery book now but I’ll have to be quick because Jane’s new book, Beneath the Ashes, will be out in November 2016.

Can you tell us anything about Beneath the Ashes, before publication in November? And are you working on anything at the moment or having a well earned rest?

Hi Lyn. Thanks so much for having me on your lovely blog. Beneath the Ashes is the second in the DI Will Jackman series based in Stratford upon Avon and is an old fashioned whodunit where Jackman’s detective skills are tested to the limit. Let me share the blurb with you:

‘The floor felt hard beneath her face. Nancy opened her eyes. Blinked several times. A pain seared through her head. She could feel fluid. No. She was lying in fluid.�

When a body is discovered in a burnt-out barn in the Warwickshire countryside, DI Will Jackman is called to investigate.

Nancy Faraday wakes up on the kitchen floor. The house had been broken into and her boyfriend is missing. As the case unravels, DI Jackman realises that nothing is quite as it appears and everyone, it seems, has a secret.

Can he discover the truth behind the body in the fire, and track down the killer before Nancy becomes the next victim?

I’m currently working on the third DI Will Jackman mystery, The Lies Within, due for publication in 2017, although it’s proving a tricky customer at the moment as I’m at the difficult half way point!

Wow � sounds intriguing! I’m just in awe of how you manage to work so productively. I’m a terribly slow writer. What tips can you give people like me to become more efficient with time?

Oh dear, I wish I could be more help there. I don’t follow a regular writing routine, I tend to fit it around my day job and my family and squeeze it in where I can. I do try to do something writing related each day � whether it be research, giving thought to a plot point, jotting down some notes, or even coming up with a character name, just to keep my hand in so that the book is never far from my mind.

I think I do that most of the time but not consistently so I’ll take those tips on board, thanks. Before we go further, can you say a little bit about yourself? I confess I need to know if you have a background in police work?

I live in rural Northamptonshire with my husband, daughter and dog, Bollo. It was a creative writing course that sparked my interest in writing fiction around nine years ago. No, I don’t have a police background, but I’ve always had a deep fascination with the work of detectives and I do have some very good sources to help with my research!

Do you identify with DCI Helen Lavery at all or does she do things that you’d never do?

I do identify with Helen in the fact that she is a working woman, juggling the responsibilities of a demanding job with raising teenage children. However, we are very different characters. Helen loves to pound the streets in her resolve to find the bad guys, I simply sit at my PC and write about them.

I’d be terrified, especially when it’s dark! Another two technical questions that will help other writers � especially me. How do you weave all the different levels of plot together? Do you have a method for keeping everything organised?

I write a detailed outline, usually 4-5 pages, before I start. Things do change as the story unfolds, but I change my outline too so that when I finish my first draft and do my initial read through, I can check back and ensure that everything weaves together.

Ìý I really need to do this effectively and consistently for my next novel. Thanks for that. How did you know you wanted to write crime novels? Do you indulge in any other forms of writing?

My love of mysteries dates back to reading Enid Blyton’s Secret Seven by torchlight under the bedclothes in my early years, then later sitting around the TV with my family watching Poirot. I’ve always loved the twists and turns of mysteries and the thrill of the chase; I guess it was the obvious genre for me.

I loved Enid Blyton too but I only read the Famous Five.Ìý An agent once told me my novel was ‘too brutalâ€�, I’ve always wanted to ask a crime writer about this. Are there any topics you wouldn’t consider?

That’s a good one. I think I’d struggle with paedophilia. Lots of other writers have tackled this subject well, I know, but I do feel compelled to read a lot of true crime around the theme I choose and I’d really struggle with that issue.

What are you reading at the moment? Any favourite crime novelists?

I’m currently beta reading a debut novel for a friend which is a procedural with a difference and very gripping! I have to say I’m drawn to new writers � there’s something special about debuts, I love reading them and following the writer as their career grows.

That’s really heartening for us debut novelists and those looking to publish their first book. What advice would you give fledgling crime writers?

Read voraciously in and around the genre you intend to work with and try to write something every day, no matter how short. When your script is complete, send it to people who you trust to give you honest and constructive feedback, then rework until it is the best you can do before you submit.

It can be difficult to find a home for a novel and publishers reject submissions for many reasons which are not necessarily anything to do with your writing: It may not fit with a publisher’s list, they may have something similar, or they may not be looking for submissions in your genre at this time. So, if you receive a rejection, don’t give up; take heed of any advice, rework your script if necessary, and submit elsewhere.

Fantastic advice. I had a lot of rejections before I won the Luke Bitmead Prize so I know first hand, you have to be relentless. Thanks so much Jane for inspiring new writers. I am really looking forward to your publication day. And as ever, what a gorgeous cover with a hint of something sinister.

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Before it’s too late is available at where you can also see the full range of Jane’s novels. You can contact Jane in lots of ways:

Twitter:

Facebook:

Website:

I’ve taken on the organisation, with a friend, of an acoustic jam, once a month, in a community café. It starts in August and I absolutely can’t wait. I love singing as much as I love writing and I have a great voice.Ìý There, I’ve said it. I have a great voice â€� not ‘okâ€�, or ‘goodâ€�, certainly not the best and definitely untrained and rough, but a great, beautiful, voice. I’ve had rooms go quiet when I sing and I’ve heard the cheers, from strangers who don’t have to give a toss, when I’ve finished.

Yet I have to shake each note out, my skin slick and slimy with the effort as if I’m sweating out an illness rather than a song. I have my voice inside of me and then I have this other voice, my father’s mocking, voice, that grows bigger and bigger, like a tumour, until there is barely any room to breathe.

My father used to make me sing. It was not a pleasant experience, simply for his and his friends� casual amusement. I would be commanded to ‘sing something� and it had nothing to do with my talent. I was a performing animal, captive, without rights or choice. My voice was cracked, raw, split with sadness, and as I sang he laughed. It was humiliation, control and it made me hot faced, eyes to the floor, sweat dripping off my forehead and closet rage coursing through my blood. Given that experience, it would be logical to hate music but I don’t. I used to sing in secret, for my own pleasure. I played my mum’s old records, Joan Baez mostly, and I would sing along, hearing this hidden voice deep inside, comforting myself through the years of violence with my own lullabies.

Singing Ìýallows me to communicate in a way I don’t get with ordinary speaking. I like making sounds instead of words and playing with notes: twisting them, stretching them, spitting them out like bullets or letting them slip out gently. I might rein them in or let them fly, make them high or as low as I can go, thin them out or fatten them up, or hold onto to them until I think my lungs will burst. The music comes from my head and soul at the very same time.

I need to untangle all these emotions that are wired up wrong and feel the satisfaction once more of letting my voice free. My private self loves to sing. My public self feels all those eyes watching and gets caught up in old hurt. It’s a battle that rages inside myself every time I go to a music jam or get up on some tiny stage in the back room of a local pub.

But I love singing. And unlike that poor kid, I want to sing. I want to explore every bit of this part of my creativity. So here’s to shaking out the music, every last drop.

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I’m absolutely thrilled to be able to interview Clio Gray, award winning author. Clio’s latest novel, The Anatomist’s Dream, was Man Booker nominated and Baileys Prize longlisted:

Abandoned by his parents and with only a pet pig for company, he eventually finds refuge in a traveling carnival, Maulwerf’s Fair of Wonders, as it makes its annual migration across Germany bringing entertainment to a people beset by famine, repression and revolutionary ferment. Philbert finds a caring family in Herman the Fish Man, Lita the Dancing Dwarf, Frau Fettleheim the Fattest Woman in the World, and an assortment of ‘freak show� artists, magicians and entertainers. But when Philbert meets Kwert Tospirologist and Teller of Signs he is persuaded to undergo examination by the renowned physician and craniometrist Dr Ullendorf, both Kwert and Philbert embark on an altogether darker and more perilous journey that will have far-reaching consequences for a whole nation.

I was extremely fortunate in having Clio as my mentor for my debut novel and I’ve really learned from one of the masters. I don’t want to give anything away with spoilers so suffice to say I absolutely loved The Anatomist’s Dream and got so attached to Kroonk I wanted to go out and adopt a pig. I therefore wanted to know all about Clio’s ability to weave such magical stories and delighted to be able to say there is a sister novel to The Anatomist’s Dream in the works�

Where did you get the inspiration for The Anatomist’s Dream? It’s such a feat of imagination that it takes my breath away.

It’s been through so many incarnations, and is a great example of not giving up on a piece of work. It was first written nearly eighteen years ago and started as an intellectual exercise. I knew I wanted to write, but couldn’t really get going. And then I read a poem by Phineas Fletcher about the body as city state and had a lightbulb moment: I’d go through Gray’s Anatomy, pick out interesting anatomical names and take them apart, explore their etymologies and follow their word stories, and then I’d base a chapter of the novel on each of these separate parts, within the framework of Philbert and the Fair of Wonders. It was a huge outpouring of words and ideas that didn’t seem able to stop themselves, and displayed all the classic signs of the first novel: self-indulgent, rambling, shoving in anything and everything to show how clever you are and how much research you’ve done at the expense of drama and character.Ìý I thought it was great! But it really, really wasn’t.

It was only when I took it out again fifteen years later that it became what it is now, over several rewrites. What’s surprising (to me at least) is that the basic storyline is almost exactly as it was in that first draft (and yes, only one draft � another mistake the new novelist makes, to assume you have perfected a masterpiece without doing any proper editing). What has changed is the telling, the discipline to chuck out all the detritus, no matter you spent weeks on it, and the ability to detect what that detritus is and afford it no mercy. Also, it helps that I’ve stacks of stuff about Fairs, Circuses, Commedia del Arte all bundled up in my head and that I’ve a very visual imagination and loads of time � not having friends, marriage, children

The novel obviously had the same impact I felt on a lot of people. Did you think you’d written something special or did the response surprise you?

During the various rewrites and all the honing and chopping it down by about thirty thousand words (I told you it was a bit of a splurge to begin with!) I had actually come to believe that yes, here was a good book, and an unusual one, and had really enjoyed taking this overwrought prose and applying to it the skills I’ve learned over the last few years. But no, the Man Booker and Baileys came out of the blue and was hugely rewarding.

Did you research a lot for the novel?

I always do a lot of research for my books. I’ve got folders and files and photocopies of book extracts and notes going back thirty years, and a pretty good idea what exactly I’ve got. And I love it! I love going into the details, the history of places and times and snatching some really interesting little facts and weaving them into the story. That’s pretty much The Anatomist’s Dream � a narrative to weave together lots of interesting little facts that I’ve ferreted out over the years.

Do you have a favourite character in the book? I have to say I adored Kroonk and absolutely get how Philbert could become so attached � I would fight tooth and nail to save Kroonk from anyone who wants to do harm!

I have a real fondness for Hermann, a person so humane and kind and yet held apart from other people by what today would be a treatable disease. And I still enjoy thinking of Fatzke and his cats.

What are you working on at the moment? Can you whet our appetites or is it top secret at the moment?

I’m just finishing off the third in the Scottish Mystery Series, all three of which will be brought out by Urbane Publications in 2017. I’ve also just about finished the sister book to Anatomist’s Dream � very similar settings and atmosphere but with completely new characters � and am drafting out a third in the series.

How do you structure your life as a writer. Do you have any eccentric writing habits?

Mostly shaped about the library and dogs. Get up, walk dogs, write for a bit if I’ve got time, go to work, walk dogs, prepare food, write for a bit, have a glass or two of wine, retrieve dinner from oven (sometimes burned to a crisp having ignored the timer because I was too immersed in whatever it was I was writing�) Go to bed, get up, walk dogs� And I do like to be comfortable in PJs and slippers.

What are you reading at the moment? Any favourite authors you’d like to tell us about?

Love PG Wodehouse � he recycles plots and characters to an extent that should make him blush, but his ability to use words to spear an idea home is breathtaking. And he’s very funny.Also James Lee Burke has to be up there. Ignore the alarmingly high rate of psychopaths and drug-addled lunatics � he’s worth reading simply for his brilliant descriptions of time and place, and his pinpointing of characters is astonishing.

I’ve got a few books on the go: a couple of Per Petersson novellas, Alberti’s Afterlives of Animals, Randall Monroe’s What If � serious scientific answers to absurd hypothetical questions, and Palestinian Walks (for the library Book Group)

Any advice for other writers?

Get as much criticism as you can and take it with good grace. Re-read and re-edit as much as you can. Learn the difference between getting words down on a page and getting them in good order. And enjoy it!

And finally, What’s the best question you’ve ever been asked at a reading event or during an interview?

I remember being asked what kind of cheese I would be if I had to choose. I believe I went for Wenslydale, though can’t for the life of me remember why!

Ìý You can find The Antomist’s Dream on and you can email her [email protected]

And you can find many more award winning books on Clio’s website

I’m thrilled to have my article published in Bad Cantina magazine today. The article is called ‘A tough sell: difficult subjects in literature � and why we need to write about them�. It explores the need for more representation in literature of those who are far too often silenced.

“I have wanted to write a novel for as long as I can remember. I didn’t consider that having a battered child as the main character might be viewed as controversial or problematic�.

…We’re simply not used to having those who are usually silent taking centre stage so when they appear it shocks us to our core and when they declare mental health distress on top, there is a huge temptation to move even further away.�

You can read the full article here

Thanks to and

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I thought this novel would be very difficult to sell because it was very difficult to write. I had to work through deep sadness, sometimes anger, to get it written. Sometimes I had to take time out from it, sit somewhere quiet to find peace. I still can’t read one chapter because it makes me cry. Despite that I’ve achieved exactly what I hoped to with the story.

When I approached a few agencies they said words to the effect of “…really like your writing but the subject matter is too brutal.â€� It seemed at that point, that there was nowhere to go with my book because a rewrite, to dilute aspects of the story, was impossible. A novel with a battered child at its core, to be authentic and real, was always going to be raw.Ìý

I’ve been asked why on earth I wanted to write such a novel. ÌýIn many novels victims of violence, often children, are voiceless, spoken about post-death by detectives, psychologists and other authority figures. I wanted to write a book where the battered child has a voice, a huge, angry voice, where she speaks up, screams out, makes us sit up and take notice.

The Luke Bitmead Foundation and Legend Press took a risk in selecting me as the 2015 Bursary winner. Without them, the child in need would still be silenced. It’s a brutal write and a tough read because it’s inspired by my own experiences which were brutal, tough, terrifying at times. It really couldn’t be written any other way and I think that readers will really get that.

This blog post originally appeared on the Thanks very much to Jan for my guest post on her wonderful book review website.

I’ve just experienced the intense shock of success. My brain told my body ‘I’m not able to process this so I’m going to treat it as a dream and go lie down for a while. You carry on�. My body, suddenly weak as a new born foal, did a sterling job of walking me around without fainting. I wasn’t prepared to win; as I listened to the list of runners up being announced, I thought perhaps they’d forgotten to add me to it. I doubted my own hearing when I heard my name read out and had to be nudged out of my corner by my niece as she and my sister clapped and cheered me on. I felt it so important that I express my heartfelt thanks, but when I stood in front of everybody words zipped around in my mind like trapped bees and I managed only a sentence or two. When I sat down again I realised I’d forgotten to expressly thank the judges and was worried that they would take the prize back for ingratitude.

I’ve discovered that shock can be wonderful. I was catapulted into a surreal world, all wrapped up in a gigantic cheque. I was surrounded by lovely people and much loved family in a cosy location that heaved and buzzed with life. I sipped at my glass of wine, though I don’t usually drink, as I was congratulated, hugged and embraced and I felt spectacularly lucky to feel such joy. Of course it didn’t actually feel real and I couldn’t sleep that night. At two in the morning, knowing that I had a whirlwind tour of London tourist spots ahead of me, I decided to calm myself down by counting sheep. Unfortunately, the sheep wouldn’t behave. As they leapt, in turn, over the fence, they cheered and waggled their hooves in the air, celebrating my prize for me. I realised then that this surreal world wasn’t disappearing anytime soon, so I lay in the dark letting the sheep run riot, tipsy with merlot, giggling into my pillow.

I spent Saturday with my sister and niece; letting the reality of the prize sink in as we watched BMX ballet in Trafalgar Square, visited the fabulous Tibet’s Secret Temple exhibition at the Welcome Gallery and ate pizza in a friendly Italian restaurant. Being the 8th Luke Bitmead bursary prize winner finally felt real on the train on the way home. Then I flicked through my emails on my phone and saw a message ‘we have news about your ticket�. I sank in my seat and thought ‘Great, I knew I was dreaming�. When I logged into my online account I saw that I’d won £3.70. I have never been so grateful not to have won the national lottery.

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Originally posted on the Luke Bitmead Trust site November 2015

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I’ve called this blog ‘Shaking out the musicâ€� for two reasons. The first is literal. I sang in a band for around three years; a little local band on a local scene, no big deal. Only it was, to me. It was such a big deal that I used to have to shake the voice out of me and I’d hear myself, a petrified child, suddenly exposed, in every trembling note. The second reason is that music, for me, has taken many forms; the music of friendship and love, the music of reading and writing, theÌý music of those little happinessâ€� that jump out and surprise you when you most seem to need them.

I have to get used to the idea of speaking about my debut novel, something raw and brutal and based on my own childhood experiences. ÌýI love get-togethers and good company, belly laughs and acting the goat and swapping stories. I love community and collectives and people coming together. Writing the Wacky Man means that I’m fortunate enough to be even more a part of such wonderful events and long may this continue. But slipping out of the shade into the full light is, for me, exhausting ÌýI am at once elated, alive, sociable, chatty, over-vigilant, hyper alert, nervy. My soul sings but it shakes.

I’m on the brink of something that is exciting and slightly terrifying. I’m going to be shaking out a lot more music in the months to come. I like to think of myself as a human maraca.

I’ve called this blog ‘Shaking out the musicâ€� for two reasons. The first is literal. I sang in a band for around three years; a little local band on a local scene, no big deal. Only it was, to me. It was such a big deal that I used to have to shake the voice out of me and I’d hear myself, a petrified child, suddenly exposed, in every trembling note. The second reason is that music, for me, has taken many forms; the music of friendship and love, the music of reading and writing, theÌý music of those little happinessâ€� that jump out and surprise you when you most seem to need them.

I have to get used to the idea of speaking about my debut novel, something raw and brutal and based on my own childhood experiences. ÌýI love get-togethers and good company, belly laughs and acting the goat and swapping stories. I love community and collectives and people coming together. Writing the Wacky Man means that I’m fortunate enough to be even more a part of such wonderful events and long may this continue. But slipping out of the shade into the full light is, for me, exhausting ÌýI am at once elated, alive, sociable, chatty, over-vigilant, hyper alert, nervy. My soul sings but it shakes.

I’m on the brink of something that is exciting and slightly terrifying. I’m going to be shaking out a lot more music in the months to come. I like to think of myself as a human maraca.