writing – Caroline Batten

Are you allowed to have Rich Tea biscuits with Coffee?

That’s what I was pondering today. The mild OCD side of me – the part that has to fold crisp packets into neat triangles, even other peoples – says no, they’re Rich Tea, not Rich Coffee. But I like Rich Tea biscuits so I went wild and had one anyway.

© Francis Mariani. (Okay, this is a cup of tea, not coffee. It seems no one on Flickr was uncouth enough to eat Rich Tea biscuits with coffee. Just me. :/)

I also like that there are many non-Brits who’re going WTF is a Rich Tea biscuit. I suspect they’re also unaware of the crisp packet triangle, mostly because they have giant packets of crisps/chips in the States and big packets don’t fold so well. I mean, I can still make a sharing bag of Doritos into a good triangle because I’m a legend at the crisp packet triangle, but you know – it’s a skill.

I was just reading a v funny BuzzFeed thing on Brits confusing the World. The one about a “cheeky Nandos” had me choking on my Rich Tea biscuit with laughter. But I get accused of confusing the world with my books. I’d get comments about it on Wattpad too, but this is a real Amazon one-star review of Nearly Almost Somebody:

“Would not recommend. Too much British slanguage.”

Each to their own, but I’m not sure I’d want to write a book set in England, featuring British characters and not use British vocabulary – it simply wouldn’t sound genuine. And if we all stick to using universal terms when writing novels… well that would be just dull. Besides, there’s also a devilish part of me that revels in US confusion — I figure it makes up for all those Sweet Valley High books I read as a kid and hadn’t the first clue what Bangs, Broilers and Station Wagons were. And let’s not even get started on the time I worked at an American summer camp and discovered that a “Fanny Pack” was a real thing…

But then, every day’s a learning day, right?

If you’d like to get your mitts on my books, the Kindle edition is just £1.99 / $2.99 or utterly FREE if you have Kindle Unlimited / Kindle Owners Lending Library!

Life Imitating Art

So this is a thing – I’m turning into one of my characters, Daisy. It started last September. Daisy went sober for October…

I went sober for October…

Daisy gets Skank Manor to renovate…

I’ve got a Skank Manor to renovate…

Daisy needs to raise £5000 to play #Forfeit…

I need to raise £500 so that you can play #Forfeit.

Wait, what? Okay, not play the game, but play the audio. I’m making #Forfeit into an audio book and YOU can help!

On Wednesday 10th June I’ll be launching a crowdfunding project with Pubslush – the money will go towards paying for a narrator, cover artwork, and a marketing campaign including all important prize giveaways. There are fab rewards and the donation levels start at just £1. But how do you fancy a limited edition hardback, a #fuglyho t-shirt or lunch with me at a #Forfeit location? Priceless dreams no more – these are all rewards that money can buy! #andforeverythingelsetheresmastercard

So follow the crowd and head on over to *** Update 15/06/15 – I’m no longer crowdfunding as I’ve agreed a contract with an awesome narrator who’s happy to do a 50:50 deal with me. 🙂 ***

***

When’s the Right Time to Mix it Up?

Some of the best books I’ve ever read have the worst endings – and by worst endings, I mean they’re upsetting, annoying, devastating. Some I hate; some I love/hate. I’m talking books like Me Before You and One Day.

Me Before You is a love/hate. It made me cry and very few books do that. But it was the right ending for that book – I respected that ending. Conversely, I wonder if David Nicholls (or his editor) was it was too scared to give One Day a HEA in case it detracted from the credibility of the novel. If I’m correct, I think think it did the book a disservice. Okay, no one wants a trite ending, but the beauty of One Day was the detail of those twenty years, of how those two people changed over those twenty years. There was simply no need for that ending – it screamed of the post-modern literature I studied at uni, where the mantra seemed to be: To be a serious novel, the novel must be seriously depressing.

It was thanks to a reading list of seriously depressing novels at uni, that I discovered Jilly Cooper. Say what you will, when your life’s a bit pants or boring, escapism is the answer – Riders, Rivals, Polo and the Man Who… gave me that escapism. They also gave me the desire to live a glam life in the country #totesgettingthere

The thing is, Jilly would never give me a will they/won’t they ending. Michael Crichton (another author whose work I devoured post-uni) would never give me a credible but depressing ending. What about me?

I’ve delivered two happy endings, but I’m not sure – strike that – but I’m sure I don’t want to give a HEA for every book I write. I may want to leave it with a will they/won’t they ending (so long as the suggestion is… they will) but at some point, I’m going to want to have a they won’t ending – because sometimes, some stories… well, they just won’t (see Me Before You).

I’d love to give people the kind of feels I got from reading Me Before You (or watching Beaches), but I don’t want to p*ss off my readers and if my readers are anything like me and my relationship with One Day, they can get pretty p*ssed off.

So when is it the right time to mix it up – when you’ve got a solid readership who’ll forgive you for what they consider the “worst ending” or early so your readers know never to expect the norm? Answers on a postcard/comment/tweet

Love you

To get my latest HEA (though I’m not promising a HEA for everyone…) get Nearly Almost Somebody from Amazon today.

Nearly Almost Somebody… is released!

It’s been three years in the making, but I’m proud to say that Nearly Almost Somebody is finally available to buy! Hurrah.

NAS started out in life as “Distraction” and it was the book that made me think – people actually like what I write. Back in 2012 I was lucky enough to get proper feedback from a proper editor at a proper publishing house, and I took the brave decision to take my books down from the writers sites, Authonomy and You Write On (which were doing very little for my writing other than sucking up most of my evenings in chat.) I was totes determined to knuckle down and edit the hell out of Forfeit, which had some major flaws – such as no one liking my main character Daisy. But then a friend said, Wattpad had introduced a Chick Lit genre section and were looking for books so I thought, bugger it and put Distraction on there.

One month later – with zero promotion – Distraction had over 17,000 reads, was in the Chick Lit top ten and everything spiralled from that point on. Caitlin, from Wattpad HQ contacted me asking if they could make Distraction a Featured Book. Um… okay. A month later I have 5,000 followers, Distraction has 500k reads and finally hits the #1 spot in the chick lit chart. Distraction won a ‘Most Read’ award that year – as in it was one of the most read books on Wattpad. WTF. It doesn’t feature a single werewolf, vampire or One Direction band member, but those crazy Wattpad readers LOVE my book. And it made me think, maybe some other people will to. 🙂

#Forfeit had to come first – as that story takes place before Distraction – but the second #Forfeit was published, I moved onto what I think is my best book.

I’ve worked with editors to improve the plot, characters and title – I think Nearly Almost Somebody is just perfect for the story – so Wattpad fans should expect a few changes from the book they new as Distraction. That said, the love story of Patrick and Libby is largely unchanged, it’s mainly that minx Zoe who gets a little more airtime.

So ta da… I give you Nearly Almost Somebody!

Banner courtesy of the fab Chicks That Read

You can get Nearly Almost Somebody from Amazon for just £1.99 / $2.99. Paperbacks coming soon.

Fortuitous Research

I love doing research, not just because you get to learn something new, but also because of the interesting tangents it can send your book in. I’m working on Nearly Almost Somebody rewrites at the moment (ready for the big launch in Feb – eek!) and I have a scene where Zoe is in a coffee shop. To set the scene, I gave this description:

After shedding her mac and taking out her book, Zoe folded herself onto an oak chair and sank back against a purple velvet scatter cushion. All credit to Mr Coffee Shop, the place was a little oasis of boho class. Zoe smiled at the three blackboards hanging side by side on the wall: Eat, Listen, Ponder. Under the first were the daily specials, under the second was trackl ist of the eclectic music they’d be playing, and under the latter was a quote:

Oh, better come up with a quote of the day then. Off I trot to Google and since Zoe has gone to the coffee shop to see a bloke she really likes, I type in “Quote About Love”. And since I can’t be bothered to trawl through websites, I select Images and the first one I see had this quote:

I can’t begin to tell you how perfect this quote is for Zoe, Libby and the whole NAS plot. It’s so freaking perfect I’m thinking of using it as the epigraph. How cool is that an little hunt for a window-dressing quote could give me the thread that ties the book together? Cx

Get some Sex, Drugs & Social Media in your life with #Forfeit. It’s available from Amazon for just £1.99 / $2.99 or totally FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

How bad is bad…

So I’m working on some minor rewrites for Nearly Almost Somebody and I have Zoe (she’s a bit of a one) thinking this:

“Besides, going on a date when she was still saddle sore from shagging a different guy the night before was low, even by Zoe’s standards.”

Is it low? It’s not something I’ve ever done, but then Zoe’s a little less inhibited than me (and most people I should think).

What do you think? Cx

416 #2 It Started With A Kiss…

…And Muddy Knees

Last week, I posted one of my entries for an old Authonomy.com competition. The task was to write a 416-word short story. This is another entry, one of my faves. I’ll tell you why at the end…

MuddyKnees: you still going tomorrow?

Lottie1990: Yep

MuddyKnees: 🙂 see you there, geordie carrot queen. x

Lottie stared at the avi of Mr Bloom from the kids’ TV show and frowned. X. In six months of questions, advice and chatting on organicveggrower.co.uk, MuddyKnees had never added an ‘x’ to his messages. Why now, the day before they’d finally meet?

‘Howay, are you still mithering that Crack Phone?’ Barbara from the neighbouring allotment wagged a courgette at her. ‘You’re addicted, pet.’

‘You’ve a cheek. This iPhone saved you from purple sweetcorn.’

‘And how is your organic veg guru?’

Lottie picked a mangetout, hoping to hide her blushes. ‘That’s the thing. He’s sent us a kiss.’

‘Really?’ Barbara beckoned her over to peer at the message. ‘Howay, you’ve pulled, pet.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Lottie picked at the mud under her thumbnail. ‘Anyways, all I know is he’s from Yorkshire and he writes an allotment blog. He could be forty and married.’

‘Or thirty and single? You’ll need new undies.’

‘Give over. It’s an organic allotment meet-up not Geordie Shore.’

‘Aye, pet, but some fancy silk knickers hiding under your dungaree dress will make you feel right special. It’s not for him to see, not yet, anyways.’

Lottie blushed as red as her radishes. Did she have time to nip to the Metro Centre on her way to Harrogate in the morning?

‘And,’ Barbara said, returning to her weeding, ‘if he is forty and married, you can wear new pants down the Bigg Market tomorrow night.’

Lottie mimed stabbing herself in the heart. ‘I’d rather eat your entire crop of purple sweetcorn.’

‘Lordy, you’re prettier in person than you are in your avi.’ Carole, forum moderator and host of the meet, led Lottie towards a group admiring her brassicas. ‘Wait ‘til you clock MK. We might not agree on slug control, but I already adore the boy. He looks like Rafael Nadal and talks like Alan Titchmarsh.’

Lottie felt herself redden as the only male under thirty looked around. Carol wasn’t kidding. Tall, dark and wielding a trowel. He sent her a kiss?

‘Lottie, meet MuddyKnees aka Xavier Thomas Hernandez-Stone.’

Xavier? With a mixture of amusement and disappointment, Lottie shook his hand. It wasn’t a kiss – it was his bloody initial.

‘Nice to meet you, Xavier. Finally.’

Still holding her hand, he smiled, blushing slightly. ‘No one calls me Xavier. Ridiculous name for a Yorkshire lad. It’s Tom.’

Lottie grinned, delighted she’d blown forty pounds in La Senza.

***

This was one of my favourite entries, not because it’s a work of genius – it’s not – but because it gave me Lottie and Tom. They’re the stars of The Carrot Queen (Working Title) – a tale of romance, radishes and a ruthless psychopath. Allotments have it all going on, baby.

416 #1 It Started With A Kiss…

…And A Scummage

A few years ago, authonomy.com hosted a little competition to celebrate the publication of Miranda Dickinson’s It Started With A Kiss. The task was to write a 416-word short story – no more, no less. I stumbled across my entries the other day. I thought I’d share them with you.

Because I never make my life easy, I asked my writing buddies to challenge me, to give me things to shoehorn into a 416-word story. This was attempt #1. It had to feature: a circus, rugby, the name Josephine and a good Samaritan, …

The decoy car punched through the media circus outside the hotel. Tom went next, braving the flashes so Lottie could escape unnoticed. Part of her adored the photographic evidence of them kissing in a bar, but the headline, England Rugby Captain In Sin Bin with cBeebies Presenter crucified her – emotionally and professionally. One day she’s a National Treasure, the next she’s Lottie the Hottie.

For ten miles, she relaxed in the anonymity of the night, but at Chatsworth a Range Rover caught up with her – caught up but didn’t overtake when they had the chance. Lottie shook off her paranoia. That was no paparazzi vehicle, too expensive.

But it didn’t turn off at Bakewell, or Buxton, or Macclesfield. Half a mile until her exit. What if they really were following her? Should she call Tom? Or the police?

She turned without indicating, her heart thumping in her chest. The Range Rover carried on. To Prestbury. She had to get a grip.

Mercifully, no journalists lay in wait outside her cottage. She’d made it. Lottie slowed, but her smile was short-lived as lights filled her mirrors.

The Range Rover was back.

She daren’t breathe as the silver monolith pulled up behind her, its lights a contrast to her cottage which sat in darkness. Isolated, neighbourless darkness. Lottie slammed her foot on the accelerator. She had to get to town, to people, to safety.

With a shaking hand, she called Tom. ‘Someone’s following me.’

‘A photographer?’

‘No.’ She gripped her steering wheel. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What kind of car?’

Its lights were too bright, too close. ‘A Range Rover. Silver.’

‘Reg number?’ His voice had changed.

‘I can’t see.’ A sob escaped her throat as she accelerated, trying to get away. ‘Tom, I’m scared.’

The Range Rover kept coming.

Fifty, sixty. The lights got closer. Seventy. Too close. The Range Rover rammed into her and Lottie screamed, battling to stay on the road. Somehow she did.

The lights disappeared and Lottie checked her mirror. No, they hadn’t gone, but they were stationary. Flickering. Vertical.

‘They’ve crashed,’ she whispered.

‘Get out of there,’ Tom said.

It might be stupid, and the last thing she ever do, but Lottie reversed. What if they were hurt?

With her phone in hand, she approached the stricken vehicle. Blood and highlighted blonde hair covered the woman’s face, but Lottie would know her anywhere.

‘Tom, it’s your wife.’

‘Help me,’ Josephine pleaded.

Lottie the Hottie to National Treasure in one Good Samaritan moment.

***

I didn’t win the Authonomy competition, but before I wrote this 416, I’d never dreamt I could write a car chase. This one might not be worthy of Hollywood, but #Forfeit fans might recognise this scene – it became the basis for one that Daisy gets caught up in. Isn’t it amazing what you can discover simply by giving something new a try?