This book business

Without a doubt, the best news this week is that Transworld has offered Marcia another two-book contract. For those of you who don't know how all this works I will explain. If you do know, please skip the rest of this section.

The whole cycle takes two years. At the beginning of year one, Marcia starts brooding on a new book. She has no contract for the publication of this one so it a complete act of faith. Having brooded, travelled around finding locations, listened to all the voices, travelled down a number of dead ends, been thrilled when things start coming together and driving her long suffering husband completely mad, she starts writing. That will be in or around month four. The next six months are spent in the actual writing of the book.

The first port of call for the manuscript is Marcia's agent, Dinah Wiener. Dinah may or may not have some suggestions to make which she feels would improve the book. If she does, then Marcia will work right through making alterations as she thinks fit (for she does not always agree with Dinah's ideas). Once Marcia and Dinah are happy, the book is sent to Transworld and we all sit back biting our nails waiting to hear whether or not the manuscript will meet the approval of her editor, Linda Evans. There are a number of options. The first is that the book is turned down flat (although this has yet to happen to Marcia), the second is that Linda wants to see some major alterations to the book before agreeing to accept it. The third (and this happened this year) is that Linda is quite happy to go ahead straight away – but that does not mean that there will be no issues to deal with later.

Once the editor is happy, a presentation is made to the Acquisitions Committee. This will include some people from marketing, sales and accounts as well as the editors and they will have available all Marcia's sales figures as well as the manuscript. Assuming the committee agrees to publish, Transworld will make a two-book offer. We are now probably in month nine or ten.

Shortly afterwards, Marcia will receive Linda's 'editorial notes' which will offer various ideas – again for the betterment of the book. Once more, Marcia will work through the manuscript. She very rarely makes the exact changes that the editors request but she takes each comment as a pointer that something needs to be improved and she will ensure that each point is dealt with.

Once the manuscript is accepted, Marcia can relax and start to allow herself to relax. With any luck there will be a month during which she can chill out and build up her reserves. Meanwhile, the spotlight turns on me. In order to give Marcia a decent break between books, I do the majority of the work on the copy edited manuscript and also the proof reading when the time comes. The job of the copy editor (or line editor as this person is called in the United States) is to ensure that all the punctuation is correct, no grammatical errors, no stylistic errors such as unintentional word repetitions and that there are no mistakes of fact. This last can mean real facts – such as the author mentioning the Statue of Liberty in London – or fictional facts – such as the author talking about a two-year old seven months after the child was born. Yvonne Holland has been Marcia's copy editor for many years now and she is first class. My job is to bring to Marcia's attention and suggestions Yvonne makes which I feel may not be acceptable. There are very few of these, I should add, but the author always has the final say.

Then, at the start of year two, the whole process is repeated. The only difference is that now Marcia is working to a contract – something that she takes very seriously indeed. The last thing she wants is for the 'second book of the contract' to be in any way inferior to the first.

* * * * * *

Another country – another contract.

Marcia wrote four books under the name Willa Marsh. Willa is the spiky, rather cynical and definitely naughty side of Marcia and these books were published by Sceptre. Incidentally, it was as Willa Marsh that Marcia was reviewed in The Times.

Few years ago, a French Publisher – Éditions Autrement Littératures – decided to publish these four books. As of today, three are out and the fourth is in production. One of them, as I mentioned a while back, has caught the attention of a French film company and they have bought the rights and matters appear to be progressing satisfactorily.

If you want to watch a French television presenter talking about Willa in what, I am pleased to report, is a very positive and enthusiastic way then click here. He is, of course, talking in French which may put you off.

Anyway, EAL would have liked Willa to have written more books but she hasn't. So, they have started reading some of the ones Marcia wrote and have picked on The Children's Hour – but only on condition that it is written by Willa. After a lengthy and serious discussion, Marcia and Willa have now agreed that this may be the case.

Marcia's French agent, in an email to Dinah said, "Editions Autrement, part of Flammarion, have had considerable success with her Willa Marsh titles. They want to continue to publish some of Marcia's novels written under her real name, beginning with THE CHILDREN?S HOUR of which they say: They think French readers appreciate the "Willa Marsh qualities" (tight plot, lightly cynical humor, tenderness for her older characters)."

Marcia is especially pleased with the bit about her older characters!

Here is a weather warning

It is said that the major topic of conversation in England is the weather. Well, that is hardly surprising when you think that we have just seen the longest day this summer come and go and still the rain pours down and gales continue to assault the house and do great damage in the garden. It has been so cold that we have turned the central heating on again – in June, for heavens sake.

We have always had one problem: the terrace faces south and the wall of the house is painted white. When the weather is hot, the terrace becomes rather unbearable as the walls act as heat reflectors and there is no shade other than that made by an umbrella. We have had a running battle with Dennis on this subject every since we came here. Dennis is the local painter and decorator and over the years has become a very good friend. Our reaction to this huge slab of white was to grow something up it – wisteria would have been good but then so would a vine or a Virginia creeper – but Dennis would have none of it. Apart from making painting the place very difficult there was the risk of damaging the walls.

Dennis, in Marcia's study.

So, not knowing that we would be leaving here this year, I had a brilliant idea. I would grow tall things in pots. I would stand the pots against the wall during the summer and they could be moved to a more sheltered environment from the winter and, of course, when Dennis came to paint the house (which he does every three years).

It was a very bad mistake.

For example, I have these lovely spindle trees – three of them are quite short bushes of the species Euonymus alatus and three of them are tall spindly affairs: probably Euonymus bungeanus although I am not sure as these were given to me by a friend. Being very invasive, there is merit in keeping them in pots (although that raises problems of feeding and watering) so they were perfect candidates for this going onto the terrace.

Two of the tall spindle trees flanking a Euonymous alatus and some lupins.

One of the other E. alatus. In the autumn the foliage turns a wonderful colour (which is why we bought these). We shall be taking these with us when we leave.

So, I thought would a container of sweet peas and a few lupins. These were also brought on in a sheltered part of the garden.

Of course, what I had not taken into consideration was the fact that we would be buffeted by so much wind. The taller spindle trees are now showing all the signs of suffering from damage to their roots thanks to wind rock (and that despite being staked), the poor sweet peas were wrenched and battered and we though we had lost them although they are now showing signs of recovery and the lupins have had chunks torn off as the gales howled.

Sweet peas, battered but bearing up bravely.

Meanwhile, Colin – he who helps me keep the garden from becoming a wilderness – has had very few days here because there is no point in coming over when the rain is pouring from the sky. Suddenly, about two weeks ago, we had three very hot days one after the other. He seized one of these to weed the lavender hedge that we planted last year and it was so hot he had to wear a hat to protect himself from the sun.

No wonder we talk about the weather!

FAREWELL FROGLETS

As I expected, the last of the froglets have now gone, returned to the margins of the upper pond which, being horribly overgrown, makes a perfect sanctuary for them.

Will there be any tadpoles to care for after we move? Tell you next year.

On the move

After a good deal of thought, Marcia and I have decided that the time has come to downsize and move a bit closer to civilisation (using that word in the loosest of definitions). The problem is that buying and selling property is right up there with divorce and bereavement when it comes to stress. And then, right out of the blue, some long standing friends of ours (we have known them for about twenty-five years) on hearing of our thoughts told us that the tenant in a property they own had just left. The property was about to be completely redecorated and would we like to rent it while we sorted ourselves out?

There is only one sensible answer to such a question and so we put this place on the market. Whether or not we shall sell it I have no idea (it is not the best of times to be selling property) but it went on the market on Wednesday and we have had two couples come to view it: fingers crossed. Then we can draw breath and decide on what we want to do.

Yesterday a parcel of books arrived: five copies of The Summer House as published in the US by Tom Dunne Books (an imprint of St Martin's Press). They are truly beautiful. Once again the Americans have used a painting by Vitali Komarov on the cover. Marcia likes his work so much that we bought one of his originals. If you want to check out his work he has a web site: http://www.komarovart.com/

THE TADPOLE TIMES

Last week I said that 'things are on the move'. It turns out that was a vast understatement. Once these fellows started to grow legs and turn into proper little froglets, there seems to be no holding them. Most have now been released back in the top pond and about a hundred are still with us – including the tiniest of all.

I have no real idea why it should be but we do seem to have had more fatalities this year than is usual. Even so, I reckon the exercise was well worth doing as at least eighty per cent have survived and that is far, far more than would be case had they been left in the pond.

I suspect this will be the last tadpole times for this year – the others will have gone within the week. As to whether we shall be talking about them again next year I have no idea: it will depend entirely on where we are when the time comes.

Getting better, getting wet, getting bigger

Marcia's readers are really lovely people. A huge thank you to all of you who have sent in emails – or commented on this site. I am only sorry that it has been impossible to answer all of them. This is very unusual as in normal circumstances Marcia insists that the only emails that are ignored are the ones that contain foul language or rant on in an extremist way about Marcia's sympathy with people who, finding life difficult, do things of which the ranter disapproves. These are in a tiny minority – over the years the count is less than twenty – and are, in my opinion, written by people who have fashioned their own god in their own image.

However, these are not normal circumstances and I fear that a few emails have remained unanswered simply because we couldn't keep up. Must do better!

Just to keep you up to date: Marcia sees the surgeon again on Monday and he should have the result of the latest biopsy. The wounds are healing well and so there doesn't seem to be a problem with them. Next week I shall let you know what the consultant has to say.

So, what have we been up to this week? The answer, as you would expect, is not a lot, really. The weather has been generally dreadful which has meant that what we had planned to do – which was to go to various places where I need photographs for the Marcia Willett's West Country book that I am writing – had to be shelved. The forecast isn't that good for next week either so . . . Nevertheless, I did take one picture on the way to the surgery. If you have read The Way We Were you will remember that the slogan TO THE WEST. You get some good views right into Cornwall from the old main road through the west of Devon but it seems we are never there when the visibility is really good. It was not good when this was taken.

Meanwhile, of course, we weren't the only ones affected by the weather. It was, to say the least, impressive to watch on television the Queen's Diamond Jubilee being celebrated throughout the country and to be able to watch her and the Duke of Edinburgh on the River Thames during the River Pageant. For two people of their ages to stand for so long in such conditions was truly incredible. How sad, then, that the Queen did not have her 'rock' (as she describes the Duke) beside her when she attended the truly magnificent Jubilee Service in St Paul's Cathedral.

It is interesting when I look through the photo files that there are some photographs that I am absolutely certain that I took that I just can't find. Obviously with a photo collection with (literally) thousands of pictures in it, there has to be some method but clearly some images fall through the net. Yesterday I spent over an hour and a half not finding one such. I have given up and that now appears on the 'photo needs' list.

THE TADPOLE TIMES

Things are on the move. After weeks when all that happened was that the small little critters gradually turned into bigger little critters, the last few days has seen changes which I am sure have taken place far faster than in usual years. Now something like a quarter have developed both back legs (which come first) and front legs – at which point they are moved into senior school which includes rocks and things so that they can climb out of the water when they want to, rather less water (to discourage them from climbing out over the school wall) and virtually no food as they give up eating while they are absorbing their tails: already one or two now have half tails. As soon as the tails go, they are put back in the pond on top of pond weed near the side so they can decide whether they want to stay in the water or not. Here are some of sitting on one of the stones - look away now, Tracey!

Meanwhile, the really tiny one is still with us although I have no idea what will happen to him. Oh, well, yes. You are quite right. It could be a her.

Dawdling on Dartmoor

Before I tell you about this last week, a huge thank you to all of you who either sent in emails or commented on my blog. It is really helping to know that people all over the world are thinking about Marcia. Not surprisingly some of you are also coping with a similar situation either with yourselves or someone close to you. Both of us want to extend our sympathy to you and hope that you will find the strength needed to cope.

We took a break on Tuesday, driving over the moor in the morning to meet some friends. It was a lovely day, Not very surprisingly, by the time we had been going for nearly an hour, Marcia wanted a break so we stopped at the Two Bridges Hotel (owned by the same people as the Bedford Hotel in Tavistock) for a quick cup of coffee. Actually it was even better than that – it was a slow and relaxing cup of coffee. As always the staff there made us feel extremely welcome and nothing was too much trouble. Jossie used to have holidays in this hotel. You will remember that Jossie belonged to one of Marcia’s close friend’s mother and Susie brought her up to live with us when her mother died. Well, for certainly over ten years Susie’s brother would spend a fortnight at Two Bridges with his mother to give her a holiday and, of course, Jossie came too.

Two Bridges Hotel

After coffee we set off once more and as we were about to drop down from Holne Moor towards Buckfastleigh I noticed Johnny Arden driving with a trap I had not seen before. There was a bit of conversation that might amuse you.

‛You’m a local boy, then?’ he asked.

‛Well, I used to live on the southern edge of the moor and now I live just north of it but I come from Dartmouth.’

‛Hmm,’ was his response.

‛Somerset’, I said, indicating Marcia sitting in the car.

After a long and pitying pause he added, ‛Well . . . ‛tis better’n being Cornish.’

There is no question but that Johnny is a local, he was born and bred on the moor and, as far as I know, has never lived anywhere else. If you want to know a bit more about what he does, this is a link to his web site: http://dartmoordriving.wordpress.com/about-2/

I have been promising myself that I would have some lessons from Johnny and I really do intend to do just that before the end of this autumn.

On our way home we stopped at Holne to have some lunch. There is a community shop and café there that is a credit to the village. I first came across a shop being run by a dedicated group of volunteers man, many years when I was writing a book called ‛Village Ventures’ and so these sort of projects are very close to my heart. There we enjoyed a very nice and simple lunch served by one of those women who cannot help but have a twinkle in the eyes: very funny and rather naughty. I will try to tell you the history of this place in a future blog as it has suffered from quite a few setbacks on the way.

Holne Moor in different moods

Since we both felt we were having a holiday we stopped for a cup of coffee at what is probably my favourite place on Holne Moor. The views are wonderful as I hope I can show you. Then we did something just to prove it was a holiday. We stopped in the car park below Cox Tor (which was crowded) and enjoyed an ice cream brought from the van that will be up there now for the rest of the summer.

Cox Tor on the horizon. Ice cream van to the right

THE TADPOLE TIMES

A tiny bit of progress. We are snarfing (if you will pardon the slang) dog food as if it were going out of fashion and some of us are just starting to grow back legs and to lose that rounded look as we begin to form waists.

We are assuming that we shall be given new water on Saturday morning and will be complaining bitterly if we are forgotten (again!).

In which life gets rather tricky

One way and another, Marcia and I have been seeing rather a lot of hospitals over the last few years. Up until recently, I have been the cause with various problems of varying seriousness resulting in poor Marcia having to cart me to and fro and, indeed, drive everywhere for the two years or so when I was unable to see very well.

Now, our main concern is that a mole on Marcia's right upper arm suddenly started to change in a rather alarming fashion. A visit to her GP resulted in a referral to a consultant at Derriford Hospital and, shortly afterwards, an operation to remove what turned out to be a malignant tumour. This was on Ascension Day which, as some of you may know, was the day in 1994 that Marcia received a letter from Cate Paterson of Hodder Headline offering her a contract. Then, the other day, a second was carried out (very satisfactorily) to take out more 'just to be on the safe side'.

There is no evidence that the cancer has spread but, since nobody can be sure at this stage, she will have to return for a check up in a month. If she is still clear that will be followed for a few years with one every three months. Thank goodness that since early this year I have been able to drive again. Living where we do it would be extremely difficult if neither of us were able to. Indeed, this has made us think and we are beginning to consider moving to be a little nearer to civilisation.

I know that the NHS gets a very bad press but in our experience all the medical staff are wonderful. Indeed, to listen to her talk you would have thought that Marcia had the best morning of her life in the Freedom Unit at Derriford. She put it this way, “The staff are all wonderful, they are friendly, caring, efficient, warm and, above all, funny.” Certainly the ones that I met during a very long morning confirmed that analysis.

It is such a shame that they are let down by others. After the first operation, Marcia was given a telephone number to ring in the event of a problem or a query. She had been told that she would receive the result of the biopsy tree to four weeks after the operation. We heard nothing so she decided to telephone. Unfortunately the number was unobtainable: we were told later that the number had been changed. How can that happen? Has no one in administration thought about the distress that this could cause a frightened patient? There were other admin issues too but this is not the place for those.

Marcia had to arrive at 7.30 which meant we were up at 5.30 and leaving home at 6. We were both starving – Marcia had been told to take nothing (no solids and no liquids) and I felt this was a time to show a bit of solidarity. By the time she was taken off by the anaesthetist, I was starving. Now, on level 7 of this hospital is a most excellent restaurant. You could compare it with one of the better motorway service fooderies. I duly found my way to it (getting lost only once) and enjoyed a late but very satisfying full English breakfast washed down with really good coffee from a proper mug!

Whilst looking for the restaurant, I suddenly realised that the more modern parts of the hospital are quite beautiful and photogenic. As always I had a couple of cameras with me so I offer you just three examples below – taken I would add with the permission of the hospital's communication officer.

Then it was back to the waiting room outside the recovery wards to wait . . . and wait . . . and wait. Eventually I received a message from Marcia, 'All is well and I am planning the next chapter'. My thanks to Adrian for bringing it to me. Then, quite suddenly, it was time to fetch the car from the car park (which seemed to be miles away but that was mainly because I took the wrong path and had to return to start again) and bring it round to the pick up point outside the Oncology Department.

We were soon on our way home, driving rather slowly to the irritation of some other motorists, and Marcia started to tell me how it had been. When she came round from the anaesthetic, the first thing she was aware of was three members of staff talking excitedly about her novels. 'What better thing to hear when you come round than “We love your books, we really do!”', she said.

THE TADPOLE TIMES

There are now a few chaps beginning to show a waist so we have a little progress. Not a lot but with this warm weather things could start to move quite quickly.

Dartmoor moods

One of the problems with having hundreds of photographs of places like Dartmoor is that unless you are extremely careful (which, if I am to be honest, I am not) you end up with rather a lot that cannot be properly identified. At the last count I have on my computer one hundred and forty-three such. To be fair, there are over a thousand in the Dartmoor file so this only represents ten percent.

Now, the real difficulty is that you dare not put them with anything that would mean that someone who recognises a given view could say, ‟he’s got that wrong: that’s xxx not zzz″. The obvious solution is to hit the delete key and get rid of them but . . .

The problem is that I just can’t bring myself to do that as some of them are rather nice and moody and, though I shouldn’t say it, beautiful. As always, it was Marcia who came up with the right answer – put them up on one of your blogs or on your photo site and just call them ‛Dartmoor’. So I will. Here are a few to be going on with.

Before anyone shouts: the bottom one is Vixen Tor, If anyone can put a location on any of the others, please do so. Incidentally, you may like to know that we have a saying in this house. Well, two sayings, as they differ depending on who is speaking. They are: ‟You know best but I am always right″ and ‟I know best but you are always right″. I will leave it to you to decide who says what.

THE TADPOLE TIMES

It was a mistake to start this. All that is happened since last week is that they have grown – a bit. All bar one little fellow who remains tiny. This I cannot explain: you would think that the big chaps would have eaten him long ago or else that he would have got bigger. Neither has happened. It is unusual to be able to identify one tadpole out of the cloud so I am beginning to take a particular interest in this one but I suspect it will end in tears. What are the odds that nest time I change the water he will have gone?