Things have been a
bit rubbish recently. Lovely Novel turned out to be Lousy Novel and has been
discarded. The doctors thought there was a chance the cancer had come back (it
hasn't). The little girl missing in Machynlleth is from the town where my family
live and the whole place is, understandably, in shock. My mother broke her leg,
well, her knee, but it's a full plaster and she's totally immobile. So that's
that.
But, there has been
a gleam, a little sparkle, a nugget of loveliness. And, bear with me here, it
all started with a trip to a Victorian mortuary. Yes, I know. It doesn't sound
that great. During the London Open House weekend (which is a splendid thing and
everyone who can go, should go), I went to Rotherhithe to see the mortuary. I
thought it would be interesting, after all, I am the woman who spent the
evening at the Old Operating Theatre in London Bridge, listening to a talk
about the history of autopsies. There's nothing left of the mortuary now - it's
a community centre - but as I listened to the history of the place, how the
building was used, how they took in the bodies washed up in the Thames, the seed
of a story planted itself in my head. I spent the rest of the day wandering
around Rotherhithe. I spent another day wandering around Wapping. And I went to
the Crossness Pumping Station in Erith Marshes. And I read. Peter Ackroyd's
London Under building in particular built on my story idea. I went mudlarking.
I went to the Mayflower and the Angel (oh, such hardship in the name of
research) and I scribbled notes, took photos, and let the story evolve.
It struck me how
lucky I am to live in London, the place where my stories are usually set. You
can still find historic buildings and atmospheric lanes. The river itself tells
so much - the shores, the old jetties, moss covered steps long since abandoned.
And all these things build a picture in your head, give your characters
somewhere to grab onto, make the story come alive. We have excellent museums.
The Museum of London has a Victorian shopping centre. Their off-shoot in the
Docklands has Sailor Town - a street with a lodging house, shops, the
riverfront. You are never far away from the past, whether real or imagined.
And my story? It
grows day by day. I have my setting. I have my story line. I have my characters
(thank you Miriam Halahmy for the fantastic SCBWI masterclass). But because of
my wanderings, I have my world. It's in my head. It's real, it's breathing, it's
alive. And you can't get better than that.
