This week I have been contemplating the imperfect past of a romantic author, namely me.
It is imperfect in two distinct ways. First – it was often a pretty messy present at the time. Second – I’m not at all good with recalling precise details. In fact, the only bits I remember with any clarity are the stuff where I went badly WRONG.
I’ve probably pushed the poor chap into the gutter, to boot. And he’s bleeding and going to miss his train and I can’t even apologise properly because he doesn’t speak enough English…
You get the picture? Wince-making, right?
Selective Memory and Imperfect Past
In fact, the day after, I had a meeting at Random House about the book that turned into To Marry a Prince.
Now, that is a novel I wrote in white heat over Christmas and the New Year. I turned out 96,000 words in something over six weeks from a standing start.
It’s set in a contemporary but alternative universe, where the Prince Regent’s daughter survived and the V&A is called the Charlotte and Leopold Museum.
And it’s funny and believable and I love it.
BUT can I remember what anyone said to me about it at the publisher’s then or later? No.
But that’s the sum total of weeks of work and post publication PR activity; not to mention a lot of very nice things that people said to me at the time.
Yet I can remember every damn mangled word of that non-conversation with the unfortunate foreign visitor I barged into.
Memory Jogger to the Imperfect Past
She was commenting on a precious Times article about lack of equality on University Challenge. And, oh dear, it so reminded me, sent me crashing again into the elephant trap of the Imperfect Past.
Yet as she reminded me in an exchange on Facebook, the RNA team did incredibly well. Much better than anyone expected.
The Good Stuff the Imperfect Past Pushed Out
Then we all sat round a board room table and took a written test. The TV people treated us gently, as if they expected us to use quill pens. And plied us with consolatory coffee.
Annie Ashurst – Mills and Boon best seller, Sara Craven – had won Mastermind in 1997 and was in her element. She was also very funny. By the time we got in front of the cameras, I was too high on laughter to worry too much about the cameras.
J Paxman enjoyed it so much, he used the gag to introduce the match.
By the end of the exercise, we all agreed she had pretty much nailed it.
We had a very nice puff in The Bookseller and there were rumours that the Edinburgh Book Festival might consider a panel of romantic novelists in a future programme.
And the publishing industry seemed equally amused and delighted.
The Sting of the Imperfect Past
Why?
All I could remember was one of the questions I got wrong. Because it was something I knew, that I’d known since childhood, like I know that the Scarlet Pimpernel was Sir Percy Blakeney, that Little John pulled Robin Hood into the river after they’d wrestled, that Ratty was the kindest, sweetest, most practical animal in the forest. Only I had a brain freeze and said the wrong name. And, yes, it still makes me cringe.
So this blog is by way of exorcising that. We had fun. We did what we set out to do. I tripped over my virtual feet in the process. Nobody cared but me, even then.
It. Doesn’t. Matter.
Free at last.
Sophie
I can SO identify with this. I do exactly the same and I wish I didn’t. But I think there may be two kinds of people: the ones who remember their own stupid mistakes, like me, and the ones whose memories are more balanced. I wish I were the latter but, sadly, I’m not.
Thought I’d replied to this but it obviously didn’t stick. No doubt the Dreaded WiFi of Kensington again.
Basically I said that I’d always thought you were much less of a flake than I was and am delighted to find that even you share this horrid habit. Gives me hope!
I remember all the awkward, clumsy things I ever said, Sophie. And the memory helps with awkward moments in books, because I can actually feel the excruciating embarrassment fifty years later. Take notes. It’s all material… (I’m misquoting Nora Ephron’s mother._
You are so right, Liz. And some of those horrors get magnified so much by the years that they do service for really big stuff in books, instead of the piddling little clumsiness they were at the time.
It reminds me of the PG Wodehouse short story where the (romantic) author builds a afternoon’s squabble with her boyfriend into a 10 year separation in her novel. Ouch.
Aha! I knew I’d find it. The author in question was Evangeline Pimbury (the woman needed a better pen name than that) and the story is “Best Seller”, the hero if which is one of Mr Mulliner’s numerous relatives.
My blog in which Evangeline appears is here:
https://libertabooks.com/books/wodehouse-and-romantic-novelist/
I’d read the blog when it was originally published, Sophie, but I went back and read it again. Total joy.
Can so identify with this. I still remember a cringe-making moment from my teens when I was on board ship and slighted the captain. Trivial and I am sure he didn’t even notice, but I have never forgotten. There are others, but they will remain decently veiled, thank you!
I remember it being quite fun… right up to the moment when we had to walk into the studio and then there was an appalling ‘Oh f**k’ ten minutes while I thought, ‘what have I done.’ And the next memory is of the lovely researcher bouncing about, thrilled we’d done so well. The HIGHEST score of any team in the first round. Yeah, we did ok.
I so agree with you about only remembering the bloopers. But all I remember of the University Challenge venture is how well you did – and Stephen’s face as he did some impenetrable calculation and got the right answer. You could almost hear Paxman’s jaw hitting the floor. Happy days!
I remember that too, Jenny. Magic!
I remember the RNA team going from the 2005 conference to travel to record this programme, Sophie, it was so exciting and different. And as for cringe making moments – we all have them. I think it comes with ‘having a go at things!’ Better cringing than regretting you never had a go in the first place. My friend and I were on the train to London for an RNA do – and she had a liquid yogurt for the journey, put the bottle between her knees whilst looking for something in her handbag – the lid flew off right across the crotch of a suited gentleman opposite. I can honestly say, his poor face when my pal dragged a packet of wet-ones from her handbag and started mopping him up was … well yes his expression was filled with pure horror! Actually – I think I need to use that – soon! I think I blanked that memory out until I read your article! Thank you for sharing and have a lovely Sunday x
The horror, Julie – but what a perfect opening scene for a romance!