I’m Coming Out
Coming out? Are you gay? No.
Have you spent a long period in hospital? No
Do you mean, you have been doing a stretch at her majesty’s pleasure? No.
I am coming out as an author.
For ten years I have been learning, quietly. I have been beavering away, sometimes
despairing, sometimes bemused, sometimes excited. Only my wife and a few close
friends knew anything about my endeavours and I certainly didn’t share my work with
them. They kept asking me, what genre are you working in? Now there’s a
question. Genre? I don’t bloody know. I just write.
At the beginning, I lacked any confidence in my work. Not that I had any thoughts
about writing great literature but I wanted to be a good storyteller. I stopped reading,
because I could not bear comparison with the work of great writers. I occasionally
read ‘airport literature’ and that gave me some reassurance. I took to reading factual
work, which I had not done for many years. I am not sure how factual most factual
work is, if you get my point. It seems to be the opinion of a writer about what are
purported to be facts. But, at least, such reading helped ease my anxiety a little.
After two years, I remember sharing a draft of my first novel – I can’t call it a debut
novel, that sounds too pretentious – with an ex-work colleague, who had moved to
Scotland, and I assumed I would never see him again. His response was kindly and
encouraging but he advised me that I didn’t have to explain every idea or happening
that I introduced. ‘Assume your readership has the nous to work it out for
themselves’, he advised. Yes, of course, it isn’t like writing a report for Ministers,
who will need evidence and a rationale. Well, some do. The other piece of advice
was that the book was too long. ‘Can’t you cut out large chunks. I didn’t like the bit
about cycling’, he said.
I set about editing Book 1 with a machete. It halved in size. I eliminated a whole
case about a young and brilliant female lawyer, who was going astray. I thought that
some of it was really good but, overall, it did not add to the general direction of the
book or to my depiction of the characters. It was a sort of cameo piece. So, bye,
bye Lucinda, I think that was her name. The cycling piece also went.
It was at this point that I learnt how powerful an author is. Authors can give people
diseases or disabilities, change their names, their sexual orientations or just do away
with them. I suppose all authors suffer from personality disorders and have
psychotic episodes, otherwise, why would they write? Now there’s a thought.
I got fed up with editing and re-editing and left the book to mature like a fine wine,
perhaps a blue cheese might be more accurate, and I started a second book. By this
time, I had worked out the two main characters, Waldo Wise and Jac Beauley, and
the setting, North Street, Bristol. I had also introduced other members of the team,
some of whom I liked very much and others I was more ambiguous about. But I was
away. I was writing.
My style still kept wavering but that too was taking shape. I realised that, the more I
relaxed into my writing, a gentle and humorous style was emerging. It is still
evolving and I am now on Book 6. I am sure you will tell me if I am wrong.
I started to tell others what I was doing. I still didn’t share my work with them but I
had started the process of coming out. I expect it is what happens to gay and
lesbian people. It happens slowly, gradually. Then the big day arrives.
Today, I am going to make an announcement. People of the world, I am an
author.
There, I have said it out loud and it feels good. More importantly, I have said it in
print.
I enjoyed that. I hope you did. More next month.
Isaac
PS
By the way, Book 2 is available now. Just go to Amazon books and look up Isaac
French. I did agree to a mixed genre of Crime Thriller and Mystery, blended with
Private Investigation and Psychological, Humorous Fiction, a bit like a blend of
Grenache, Syrah and Mourvèdre but less tasty.