I asked Karen if she'd like to write a letter to her younger self, just like Vanessa Gebbie, Kerry Hudson and Andrew David Barker have done for us in the past. You're in for a treat. A double treat, in fact - because there's a copy of Upside Down Jesus and other stories for one lucky reader - all you have to do is leave a comment on this post and your name will go into a hat (I'll take photos, it'll be amazing) and if I pick you Karen will mail the book out your way.
Over to Karen now, writing to Karen then.
A letter to me in 2001
Hello You,
It’s 2001 and for some reason your fashion choice for hair
and clothes is ‘looks like she’s from the future or Star Trek’. There you are,
in a holiday apartment in Blackpool with the
two most important people in your life, and in a way it’s thanks to them that
you’ll start to take the idea of writing more seriously. You’re watching
Cartoon Network because it’s a British seaside family summer holiday, so the
wind and rain is keeping you indoors. That advert between cartoons for the
writing course, cleverly placed to attract all those
stay-at-home-feeling-slightly-trapped mums like you, it’ll catch your
attention.
You’ve
already written a novel – and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s
truly awful. It’s possibly the worst novel ever written. If anyone ever wants
to give an example of how not to write a novel, of why all tell and no show is
so relentlessly dull, they could use your first novel as a perfect example –
but you’ve never had the courage to let anyone see your work. You think this
course might be the thing to help, to give you a push, to give you confidence.
(Incidentally, that there was ‘the rule of three’. You haven’t learnt about
that yet but when you do it will become something of a feature in your writing
– as will these pesky dashes.)
The course will turn out to be a
bit of a letdown and your tutor’s comments are often unhelpful and vague but it
will give you that confidence and willingness to share your work. In 2002 you’ll send out a couple of stories
to writing competitions. You’ll win one and come third in the other earning £750
from your first two efforts. Sounds great, eh? Ah, well, not so great. You see,
after these two immediate successes, you’ll think that’s it, you’ve done it –
you’re a writer now. The crushing blow of rejection is yet to come.
And there will be rejections – a
lot of rejections – but you’ll be surprised at how quickly they stop hurting
(well, okay, the pain will lessen and having a self-pitying tantrum on the
living room floor will eventually become a thing of the past).
You’ll join a fantastic creative
writing site run by the BBC called Get Writing and this is where you will
really start to learn, by reading and reviewing other people’s stories, by
paying heed to their reviews and by reading the free advice posted by published
writers and creative writing tutors. You’ll also discover that the internet is
a terrifying place and that people are often not what they seem or claim to be.
The internet will remain a terrifying but incredibly useful place.
When the BBC closes the site down
you’ll move to another, More Writing, and there you’ll join a small critiquing
group. This is where your writing will move to a different level. These seven
or eight writers will rip apart every aspect of your stories, will catch every
error, home in on every detail. By then you will have the confidence to do the
same for them. With their help you will garner more success, winning or being
placed in competitions, gathering publishing credits in places like Mslexia,
The New Writer, Writers Forum and Flash 500.
You’ll start to meet up with your
writing group once or twice a year at a cottage in the Yorkshire Dales for
writing weekends. You’re reading this and thinking, “Spend a weekend in a
cottage with people I’ve never met before? Are you mental?” Don’t panic,
thankfully they’ll all turn out to be just as they are online – clever, funny,
helpful and encouraging. Each time you meet you’ll come home with a story that
has been so improved by their critiques, it will go on to be published or win a
competition. You’ll also have a stinking hangover, have gained 3lbs of mainly cake-based
fat and have a hankering to play Articulate every night after dinner.
Between 2004 and 2008, you’ll
write another novel and it will be better than that first effort because now
you’ll actually know how to plan, how to create interesting characters and give
those characters authentic dialogue. You’ll still stint on description – that
hasn’t changed here in 2014 – but you won’t bore the backside off people with
tell, tell, tell any more. That novel won’t see the light of day either. At
heart you’ll always feel that you’re a short story writer and this is where you
will continue to have success. Don’t beat yourself up about mainly writing
short stories – it’s okay. An idea will be what it’s supposed to be, and if
it’s supposed to be micro or flash or short or long, just let it end when it
should. And, believe it or not, you’ll even write poetry now and then. What’s
even more unbelievable is that it’ll get published. No, I’m not joking.
In 2014 you’ll decide to gather
some of your favourite stories into an anthology and publish them. Like many
people, your attitude to self-publishing has changed but you’ll still be
apprehensive. Don’t worry – it’ll all go okay and people will be very
supportive.
Oh, and you’ll also be about half
way through writing another thing – a long thing – a thing you refuse to call a
novel in case the word scares it away.
You’ll never be a millionaire,
you’ll probably never even make a proper wage from writing, but you will love
it and you will get better at it and you will always find time to do it, no
matter how many other things are deemed more important.
Remember that when those first
rejections hit the doormat. When those envelopes scrawled with your own
handwriting tell you all you need to know before you even tear open the flap.
When you read competition winning stories and think, “What? Seriously? This
won?” Remember that you do this 
because you love it and because you can. That’s
all that matters in the end. Though money is always lovely.
because you love it and because you can. That’s
all that matters in the end. Though money is always lovely.
With love,
Me.
x
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Thanks so much for sharing your journey to here with us, Karen. I know the anthology is already selling well - may it continue to - and may your 'thing' get its other half writ soon.
Oh and I love how the Karen from now is looking up at the Karen from Star Trek like she's about to get beamed-up.
So, to WIN a copy of Upside-down Jesus and other stories, all you have to do is:
- comment on the end of this post
- or retweet the daily tweet I'll do on Twitter saying something like "RT this to be put into the draw to win Upside-Down Jesus.." only (maybe) more well written
- do either of these (or both!*) before 5pm next Monday (6th April) and you'll go into the hat
*each person will only go into the draw once, but we appreciate all your comments, RTs and sharing of information.
A child struggles to overcome her fear of the upside-down Jesus, a man dons his 'egg-stealing coat' once a week, a teenager becomes obsessed with the colour purple, an old man keeps his wife closer than others would like, a psychiatrist considers the folly of his patients, and a little girl watches her neighbour slowly disappear.
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