But first,
some background……….
I loved
writing stories when I was a little girl. I never thought too hard about the
stories I wrote. I just wrote them. It was the same with my diary. I never
stopped to analyse my thoughts as I wrote them down, never hesitated. I never
actually thought of my writing as anything more than a way of expressing the
deepest, darkest secrets in my heart.
I had few
people to talk to when I was growing up. I wasn’t good at much at school,
didn’t enjoy it. Languages and English saved my ennui. I was only a star pupil
in one subject, writing in English. But that didn’t hold much kudos.
Being a good
writer (for a girl) wasn’t celebrated. It wasn’t congratulated. I knew deep
within the fibres of my seven-year-old self, that we girls were being primed
for marriage and a ‘hobbyist’ career that would support our future husbands. Secretly,
without even knowing really what I was feeling I was disgusted and determined that I would suffer no such fate.
I got top
marks for writing stories but serious subjects like biology and maths were
beyond me.
So I was ignored. I liked that. It gave me the space I needed to
watch and wait.
I got down
to my favourite pastime, observing human nature. Writing my diary and coming
up with stories inside my head was my sanctuary. Writing in my notebook made me feel safe. Thinking up stories was my private territory. It was an experience no-one could take away from me. It was
all mine! The world could be disintegrating around me but living within the pages of my notebook meant I was able to breathe and protect myself from the harm I saw.
I read as
much as I could too, when I was little, and still do. My favourite authors were
- and are - not put on pedestals, not adored, not given any more status other
than that of a storyteller.
That’s all they were - and are - to me. But I knew -
and know - that being a storyteller was - and is - an important job. Perhaps I
could be a storyteller one day too.
I wrote my
first full-length novel 16 years ago, having spent years writing articles for
newspapers, a committed hack during the day, filling hundreds of notebooks with my thoughts at night.
I finished my first 55,000 word novel in 1997, and sent it off to my chosen
publisher. They liked it but rejected it. I wrote another, sent it off to the
same publisher. They liked it and asked me to revise it. I felt this enormous
sense of pride that someone had liked my story enough to ask me to revise it. I
revised it and revised it again but they still rejected it, asking me to write
another story.
I did as I
was asked but they rejected my third novel. This time despair set in. I decided
to abandon this publisher (who were very specific about the genres of stories
they published) and write the story I really wanted to tell.
I started
researching my plotlines for The Hidden and
gradually my novel started to take shape. I completed it – a weighty 140,000 first
draft, a fully researched tale of political intrigue set in 1919 and 1940s
Egypt – four months short of the 9/11 bombings. Writing The Hidden was a joyful experience of
hard-core research into the political, economic and cultural trends of early 20th
century Egypt.
I became obsessed with the era, the country, the politics, the
lives of people who actually lived during that time…….I lived the story in my
mind as I wrote and for the two years (with breaks) I was writing it, was
living this strange double life; mother to two small children living under the
Australian sun, sweltering in 40 degree heat and exhausted from the demands of
young children, but simultaneously walking the streets of 1940s Cairo, living
out of dusty biographies, old archived newspapers and non-fiction documentary
accounts of life in the harem, soldiers out in the desert, living the life of
men and women in the midst of revolutionary action.
Over the
years I pitched my story to hundreds of literary agents and publishers but was
rejected over and over. And then the
rejections turned into silences. Email pitch after email pitch to literary
agents in the UK and the US garnered nothing but a heart-breaking silence, and
silence is far, far worse than rejection.
Many, many
years passed and I wrote another novel After
Rafaela, a story I love. The Hidden was
resting quietly on a computer pen drive. Every year or so I would dig it out
and revise bits of it, do some more research, go back to the place where I felt
alive and in charge.
Then came
the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award 2013 competition. I submitted my full
manuscript version of The Hidden in
time for their January 2013 deadline, a final version edited slightly for the
Award.
I had zero expectations. I have never won anything in my life so I
didn’t hold out much hope for my novel. But I was
wrong. I’m still in shock. The last four months have been amazing. I have moved
through the selection process and with each announcement that I was still in
the running came this relief and happiness that my story was worth reading. Strangers
were acknowledging the appeal of my story. There is no greater praise than good
reviews from strangers.
When I got
the call from the States that I had been selected as the Finalist in my
category, I was walking down a Catalonian mountain and I answered the phone
with a resounding ‘Hola’. I didn’t even look at my phone to check who it was.
It was ABNA was on the phone and it was me they wanted to speak to. They are
going to publish my novel, they told me. I screamed. I was the Finalist in my
category. I couldn’t believe it.
After a long phone conversation with the
lovely ABNA people I screamed some more and went to find the nearest bar where
I ordered cava. All I have ever wanted to be is a storyteller and take people
away with me on a magic carpet of fantasy to a place where they can forget
their troubles and live out another reality for a while. I would carry on doing this with or without a publishing contract.....this is the story of my life.
The Hidden will be published in a few months. I
hope you enjoy it. I am working on ideas for another thriller and I want to
bring you some amazing stories for a long time to come. I want you to join me
on my journey. The act of storytelling is – to me – simple, pure, blissful. It
involves the process of creating a story that tantalises and excites. It involves a relationship with
readers; a strong and intimate relationship. Each part of the dynamic is crucial. It’s a dance of mystery and love,
whatever the content of the story - thriller, horror, murder mystery, romance....... I am a shy person who prefers to be alone, but I love people and love hearing their stories. This is the split synchronicity of my personality. Writing stories is my way of connecting with the world. It's all I can do. My readers are my partners and my lovers........I owe you everything! Please read my excerpt and vote for me. The selection of the Grand Finalist in Seattle next month is down to Amazon customer votes. Please share this page with your friends and support me. Thank you. Jo xxx
