I admit it: I’m excited. About the fact that a novella called Fall On Me is getting closer to being in the world. Since I last wrote about this, a date for the launch has been set – Thursday 15 September – and a city chosen – Canberra ACT, which is an hour south from where I live. Plus there have been two other developments: we’re now down to just a couple of cover options, and my first preference for the launcher of the book has said yes. When the yes came through it almost felt like a successful marriage proposal (except the law’s not on my side in that regard).
And then there’s been the completely and utterly nerve-wracking process of sourcing an endorsement quote. I know someone, a writer at the very top of the literature game. I haven’t known this person for long; we’ve just been getting to know each other this year. It’s been such a joy. How enriching to receive thoughtful emails about many things: the writing life, family, health, landscape, the weather. How I’ve tried to be as thoughtful in my replies. But then I had the ridiculously audacious notion of asking this writer to read Fall On Me and prepare one of those sentences that will entice a reader to pick the thing up in a bookstore.
Being brave to the point of stupidity at times, I sent off an email, a very nervous email. Within twenty-fours I had a reply. Yes, the writer would read the novella, but on one condition: goodwill wouldn’t be enough, there had to be genuine enthusiasm for the work. The email made it clear that these things were ‘always a risky business’. What was the risk? That our friendship may not (yet) be sufficiently robust to withstand the honesty that maybe required. Feeling even more nervous than before, I accepted the terms.
Some weeks later, when Blemish Books sent me a proof of the text layout, I went down to the main-street and had the thing copied, then I went to the post office and sent the copy away. What on earth was I doing? More to the point, what on earth would the writer think about my work? And if it wasn’t good enough, would I cope with the rejection?
As I waited for the response, I thought about how Fall On Me has happened.
In April/May last year I went down to Launceston, Tasmania, with the goal of writing six short stories. I hadn’t written short stories for half a decade, because I’d been focussing on bigger things, and creative journalism (which is a euphemism for writing for newspapers but not having the faintest idea how to do it). I had another goal: to write by hand. My handwriting is so appalling that at times I can’t read it myself; every third word is an unintelligible scribble. But I wanted to see what impact this would have on my prose. Wiser people than me say that compared to using a computer you write more slowly by hand, it’s a considered act, an act of composing.
And I had a third goal: to write whatever the hell I wanted. If I wanted to write a grim tale where everyone dies, then I’d write that tale. If I wanted to fill my pages with hardcore gay sex (which is something I find difficult to do, because I’m more interested in warmth and connection and intimacy) then so be it. If I wanted 500-word paragraphs contained within brackets, then I’d do that too. I didn’t want to care about rules and conventions; I just wanted to write what would excite me as a reader.
Did I come away with six short stories? No, I came away with three novellas, one long short story, and one piece of experimental prose that most likely won’t see the light of day. I also came away with one very blurry right eye, because I found that as I wrote by hand my face became closer and closer to the table, which was glass-topped and reflected the bright globe of the lamp.
Now, over a year later, which is a frighteningly short period of time in the world of publishing, Fall On Me, the second novella I wrote in that month in Launceston, is forming itself into a book that others will read. One which a certain writer has now read in ‘two swift reading sessions’. Does the writer like what I have written? Well, what I can tell you is that we now have an endorsement quote for the cover. Which is a very big part of the reason why I’m starting to feel excited about a little book that might just be able to. Stand up in the world, I mean to say.
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July 3, 2011 at 9:16+00:00Jul
Mark William Jackson
You’re getting excited, how do you think I feel? Sorry, I know it’s not all about me but I really am looking forward to this release.
July 3, 2011 at 9:16+00:00Jul
Nigel Featherstone
Thanks heaps for your enthusiasm, Mark. I do hope this little humble book lives up to expectations!
Oh, for those wondering/worrying: Fall On Me isn’t filled with hardcore gay sex, nor do all the characters die. There’s just lots and lots and lots of love.
July 4, 2011 at 9:16+00:00Jul
tristanfoster
I share Mark’s sentiments – really looking forward to this, Nigel.
And I very much like the idea that there’s a lot of love in Fall On Me. You can’t have enough of it, can you? Wonderful.
P.S. I hear blogs are a great spot for experimental prose which otherwise wouldn’t see the light of day.
July 4, 2011 at 9:16+00:00Jul
Nigel Featherstone
And thanks for your enthusiasm too, Tristan.
Yes, there’s a fair bit of love in Fall On Me, in fact since I came back from Tasmania the file on my computer that contains this and the two other novellas I wrote during that mad mad month is called 100 Per-Cent Pure Love. It’s not as hippyish as it sounds: I simply wanted to continue to be involved in loving my characters as much as I did in Launceston, with the hope that readers might one day love them as much as I do.
And, yes, blogs are great for experimental prose, but I have a firm rule for Under the Counter: no fiction is to come to light here. Although, I should admit to employing the odd fictional device i.e. if it’s not really that interesting, make it up!
July 4, 2011 at 9:16+00:00Jul
Gabrielle Bryden
Very exciting – now I am so wanting to know who the author is – haha (a great hook).
July 7, 2011 at 9:16+00:00Jul
Nigel Featherstone
Hi Gabrielle, all will be revealed soon!
July 16, 2011 at 9:16+00:00Jul
The problem child: I need you « Under the counter or a flutter in the dovecot
[…] tell a story and by the I’d finished it I had 40,000-word manuscript on my desk. To me, Fall On Me feels like a novella because it has a focused scope, which is common to the short form of the […]