Derwent Literature Festival Online Talk – from Monday, 24th of June 2019

via Derwent Literature Festival Online Talk – Monday, 24th of June 2019

The use of dialect in novels

My novels about a female smuggler in 18th century Robin Hood’s Bay, Yorkshire involve the use of dialect, not only in the dialogue, but also in the ‘narrator’s’ voice.

I have tried to give a ‘feel’ of this Yorkshire voice in the prose, through the use of ‘were’ instead of ‘was’ and dropping ‘the’ in various places.

Discussions have arisen from this during the critique session on a new Writers’ Course I am attending. All of these comments bar one come from reading the first 3,000 words of Jiddy Vardy – High Tide, the second book in the trilogy.

Some love it as it totally immerses them in 18th century Yorkshire.

Some would prefer it only used in the dialogue.

Some find it takes time to get used to it.

A German reader didn’t have a problem at all, even with words she didn’t understand. She got the sense from the context. Plus, as a non-YA reader, she wanted to read more and read the first book.

However, there are readers for and against…

Some quotes about the use of dialect in the dialogue and the prose:

‘They’re subtle yet really place the story firmly in Yorkshire.’

‘I actually really enjoyed the dialects and thought they worked well, I could get the feel of a working class conversation.’

‘The use of dialect and vernacular grammar works really in both the text and dialogue. It made me feel as though I was there and totally involved.’

‘I’ve never read anything like this in YA, with the dialect in the narration. Really felt part of the world. Though can see schools may have a problem with it.’

‘Written in dialect makes for difficult reading. Dialect is better implied if possible.’

‘I prefer dialect in the dialogue – in the direct speech – but not in the third person narrative.’

‘It would be very difficult as a parent to give this to my (12 year old) daughter to read and the use of ‘weren’t’ in the first lines would put me off purchasing this for her.’

Just as a pointer – Jiddy Vardy is aimed at 14+ – it is upper YA. Many YA readers are in their 20s.

I have thought that parents and schools may have a problem with the use of dialect in a YA book and teaching ‘bad’ habits. But isn’t the whole point of discussions at the moment about people seeing themselves in books? Well, what about HEARING themselves too? I want to hear the Yorkshire voice in books and not just as a parody and not just in the direct speech. As a teenager, I would have loved to hear myself as the voice behind the entire book. It would have made the idea of being a writer a real possibility for me.

Plus, it makes an excellent discussion in school workshops for the use of voice in a novel. Being heard. Being represented. I’m not talking about the characters, I’m talking about the narrative voice. Why can’t the narrator have a Yorkshire voice or any other regional voice for that matter? Why does it have to have any sense of place taken out of it? Or is it only certain narrative voices that are allowed to be heard? 

If it hasn’t been done before, or rarely, why not break out of the box and change the voice that is telling the story? This is the story of Yorkshire after all.

It’s one series of books. Will this really tarnish a young person’s grammar? From my experience, it’s being in a school environment that does this, not reading a book.

 

 

 

Unheard Voices

A reader who has read Jiddy Vardy and who is reading Jiddy Vardy 2 – High Tide as a Beta-Reader, mentioned the use of dialect in my novels.

She said she’d never read a book like this where the voice comes so strong from their location – Yorkshire.

It set me thinking about voices. Publishers, everyone, in fact, is saying they want novels from little or unheard voices. But there are so few from the North of England. Why is this? Or are they and I haven’t heard of them? We’re saying young people need to see themselves in books and hear themselves….so are ALL young people really being represented?

I’ve heard northern voices in adult books. Andrew Michael Hurley’s and Ben Myers’ resonate with the North.

And I’m not talking dialect like Joseph’s in Wuthering Heights. Jiddy is a smattering of ‘were’ and dropped ‘the’s.’

I know people who speak like this but I don’t hear their voices in YA fiction.

We’re supposed to all be represented in books. So, let’s hear working class northern voices. Authentic voices from people of the north. Authentic working class voices from everywhere in the country perhaps?

Jiddy Vardy is historical fiction, set in Robin Hood’s Bay, Yorkshire. Sixteen year olds can sound the same when they come from the same place whatever the century.

Why write historical fiction? Because sometimes, it is more palatable to see today’s troubles at a distance. And some things never change. By viewing them in another age, we may see our problems more clearly and see the choices that we could make. Jiddy Vardy explores why people commit a crime. Why they took up smuggling. Still relevant today with rising prices and taxation.

So, two points here! Historical fiction can speak volumes for today’s audience and Northern voices need to be heard!

 

Talking Books at Music Festivals

This year, at The World Music Workshop Festival near Bungay, Suffolk, there was a new tent…the KIWI Lotus Tent that hosted talks, demonstrations and conversations.

I felt honoured to be part of this festival, not only by all the dancing I usually do, but by talking about Jiddy Vardy, sharing my experience of a writer, in where I find inspiration, the writing process, publishing process and then a full on discussion about books, films and life.

This is what literature is about. A spring board, a walk in another’s shoes, an opening up of life and a sharing of ideas.

Thank you WMWF, formerly known as Drum Camp! I have always loved this festival that has become to feel like home. Now I love you even more, if that’s possible!

Dancing and talking books combined. Fantastic. I will be back next year!

Ruth

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Derwent Literature Festival Online Talk – Monday, 24th of June 2019

Looking at things from a different angle

Realised this morning that preparation for author talks and events is actually research and work towards Jiddy Vardy 2 and not a distraction!

Preparation is helping me to focus on themes, what I need to explore further in the second book about Jiddy, smuggling and finding her roots. It’s helping me to know what I need to develop, to revisit and a reminder of the characters.

Funny how thinking about something from a different perspective brings renewed excitement…and peace of mind!

Looking forward to discussing whether it was possible for Jiddy to be a feminist in 18th century Robin Hood’s Bay.

Tomorrow, 4th May, 2pm at the Book Corner, Saltburn by the Sea, North Yorkshire.

My Inspirations for the Bookshelf – L M Montgomery

The wonderful K M Lockwood asked me what my Inspirations from my bookshelf were for YA books, for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) weekly newsletter.

The Anne books by L M Montgomery!! Red hair, freckles,  love of make believe and so much more… Click the link to find out why…

https://www.wordsandpics.org/2019/04/inspirations-from-bookshelf-anne-green-gables.html

How themes continue in a second book

I’ve been writing and editing the first three chapters of the sequel to Jiddy Vardy today. I thought I’d struggle as I’m working on the day job, I’ve come out of writing a different YA book, The Monster Belt and yet it’s surprising and a relief that it is a smooth transition into the world of Robin Hood’s Bay in the late 18th century.

Already, I’m concerned with the community’s concerns. How dare people who know nothing of what it’s like in a remote fishing community tell them how to live? A crime to some is a necessity to others!

I get fired up just thinking about it!

I love how resourceful and clever Jiddy is, always thinking on her feet and coming up with the unexpected. Wish I was as quick as she is in these situations.

And I love how her desires continually break through.

She’s got a great deal to prove. The journey is definitely not over!

Hooray!!!

What are you?

I saw a post on facebook yesterday that made me think about the need to categorise ourselves. What is this human need that makes people do quizzes to see whether they are introvert or extrovert, a summer or winter person, a city of country girl, a leader or a follower?

This facebook post image was about Ego and Soul. One side had a list of what the Ego does/wants…the other side, the Soul.

I suppose this discussion is two-fold. What is it about the human need that makes people take these quizzes, want to name who we are, to put a label on what we think we represent? Are you an astronaut or a singer? Can’t I be both?

Are you Ego or Soul?

Back to the facebook post about Ego and Soul. Quite a few of the points about Ego, I held my hand up to. And that made me feel I was wrong – that I wasn’t a good person. ‘Oh no!’ I cried. I’m evil! Then… after flagellating myself, I looked at it again.

Aren’t we made up of more than one part? Don’t we need our ying and yang to survive? If I was all Ego, I’d probably self combust but if I was all soul, would I emotionally survive? Don’t we need both to be sane and whole? Now, I’m talking about people living their lives with all you have to do to get by. I’m not in a retreat and I’m not surrounded by like minded people all the time.

I’m a writer, a project assistant in a library and I make costumes now and then. For those different roles, I need different sides to me.

I could be all soul as a writer, but I don’t see the point of writing in isolation, with my arm around my paper or computer so no-one else can see. I write because I love it, but also I want others to read my words, I want to affect them in some way. Ego. And I need my Ego to drive me. I need my Ego to be a writer.

My Soul goes into my writing though. It pours into my characters. And I make my characters a mix of Ego and Soul because if they were only one, they’d be pretty boring.

I’ve just finished reading A Place Called Winter by Patrick Gale. A native Indian character talks about two souls. She can see two sides in a person. And that is what the book explores. It is dangerous to separate ourselves saying someone is better than another. Societies become dangerous when they start doing that. We have our male and female sides and when one is denied, all hell can break lose.

I’m glad I saw this list asking which are you. It’s made me think again about how we segregate and departmentalise rather than looking at the whole person and the whole society. Isn’t it better to nurture every part of us rather than deny parts? Isn’t it better to nurture and celebrate our diversity than to strive to be one thing?

I’m introverted sometimes and sometimes I’m an extrovert, most of the time, I’m somewhere in the middle. I’m mostly optimistic, but sometimes, I lose hope. I have an Ego and I need it, but I also have Soul. And I’m not going to give myself a hard time about it. I’m actually going to celebrate that I have many sides to me.

By the way, I’d recommend A Place Called Winter.

Now to try and use this in my fiction…

Silence

I’m hesitating to write this post. Maybe I’ll write it and not post it. Maybe the writing will be enough.

You see I’ve been wondering about the silence. Being silenced, or feeling silenced in the relatively small worries and emotions in life. When the scale of trauma is so huge for some, how can we voice ‘feeling upset’ or ‘feeling down for no apparent reason?’

Keep busy. Help others. Do something.

And what when you’re just getting on with your life? You are helping those around you, doing the stuff that we all have to do, the cooking, cleaning, work. Those things. And there are birthdays, and family gatherings, people come and stay, you see friends.

Or is it fatigue? Life fatigue?

I’ll be open about this. I’ve been crying a lot. I know it’s not the menopause, it’s something else. It could be the crash from the top of the mountain after the launch of Jiddy Vardy. It could be that but it feels deeper. It feels like grief.

Is it that in writing about Yorkshire, which I do in my books, brings back how I miss living there? But I love so much about living in Manchester and Yorkshire isn’t far away. It feels more like grief for a time gone. For childhood. For all the people I’ve known and who are dead. A way of living that is gone.

As children, we played in the local farms, jumping in the hay barn, making houses of hay bales until the tractor with its trailer came and we had to help load up. Playing all day in the woods, blackberry stained and worn out. Sitting on the Odda, dreaming and just looking.

Of course, this is the rosy side. It could be cold and bleak. Dark with rain. Upstairs in my bedroom, the house was freezing in winter.

All the old ladies mum took us to visit. All gone. And the streets and houses in Bradford where they lived. All gone. And the ladies in the village who advised and talked and listened. All gone.

And reading on facebook of someone I know vaguely who has spent the last month with her sister, nursing her mum before she died. The rush that brought of how Jane and I were with mum, staying in her hospital room until she came home to us in Manchester and the time of care, autumn leaves and blue skies turning to winter afternoon sunsets making orange squares on the hospital room wall. I cried. And that is over five years ago now.

And I am sobbing writing this. Why is that?

Is it the silence? That I don’t talk about this anymore because I feel I should be done? That it’s just moaning?  That I should be grateful and happy for all that has happened this year.

That we have to ‘live in the moment?’ Is that possible for a writer?

Do we talk or not talk? Do we feel silenced because we feel it is not enough? The grief, the sadness we feel that pools within us and feels so overwhelming when in the big huge scheme of things to others, to what is happening, is nothing at all.

That’s when I think nature helps. Standing in woodland, on a hill top, by the sea. We realise how small we are, how short a time we are here. Does that help? We’re human. I’m human! No, it’s hard to get that perspective! It’s hard to grasp when we’re in the middle of the darkness. But being amongst trees or water, or fields or moors, does give space and breathes away the moment’s anxiety.

And writing. I think writing brings all these memories and feelings and emotions, up and back and around. If I wasn’t writing, would I feel calmer and less emotional? Probably. But I wouldn’t be me if I stopped writing. So, I need to embrace this and use it and in doing that, find release. X