Chapter 14
Dear Kate,
(I’m not sure if Kate is your actual name or your pen name. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.)
I wanted to let you know how grateful I am to you for taking on this assignment. I realize it’s out of the ordinary, but I hear you’re a very out of the ordinary kind of person, so hopefully you and the book are a good match.
I have to confess to not reading the final edit. It’s so intensely personal to me, I cannot imagine I’ll ever crack the spine.
If I can be of any assistance to you in a general sense, just ask—I’ll help if I can.
Yours in gratitude,
H
(I hit a random key on the keyboard with my eyes closed. H is as good as any, isn’t it?)
Hello H,
I cannot tell you how glad I am to be in touch!
Firstly, it’s me that needs to thank YOU, not the other way around.
The Power of Love is the most extraordinary love story, I cry every time I read it. I so wanted Leanora and William to get their happy ever after, but then it wouldn’t have felt so raw and real and human if they had, would it?
How I wish I had the talent to write something so pure and poignant, it’s unforgettable. I hope you will still feel a glow of pride when it’s published, even though your name won’t be on the cover.
Thanks for offering to answer some questions for me, I’ve attached a list here so as not to clutter up your email.
I haven’t sent too many, there’s plenty more if you’re in the mood!
I just thought it would be cool to embroider some of your (unidentifiable!) truths into interviews and things for authenticity.
All my best,
Kate
(I am a Kate, just not Darrowby)
Dear Kate,
As promised, the answers to your questions…
What would I be if I wasn’t a writer?
Six feet under, probably. Writing has been both my joy and my salvation, my way of making sense of the world. I’ve written my way through my best days and my darkest nights, my celebrations and my solitude. I confess to wondering of late what it’s all for. Words for words’ sake.
My favorite writing snack (REALLY?)
I used to have licorice every now and then, the proper kind, not those hideous multicolored kids’ things. These days I tend to write late at night in my study, so just black coffee and the occasional Scotch.
My inspiration for writing the book?
If there was a “prefer not to say” box, I’d tick it. As there isn’t…the unexpected end of my love story.
Music, coffee-shop hubbub, or silence when writing?
Definitely not coffee shop, in fact not anywhere but my office usually. I find noise in general to be distracting, certainly no radio. I used to enjoy having music on.
Cat or dog person?
Do I have to nail my colors to one mast or the other? A rescue cat once decided she lived with me, deaf and yowled like a banshee. I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid, a mutt who hated everyone except me.
What song do you sing in the shower?
I don’t sing in the shower or anywhere else.
And now a couple of questions of my own, it seems only fair…
Why did you take the job?
Who is Clive?
Sincerely,
H
Dear H,
You don’t sing, ever? Not even when you’re on your own and your favorite song in the world comes on the radio? I’ll readily admit to being the world’s worst singer, but I still belt out “Someone Like You” as if I am actually Adele, especially in the car.
I like what you said about writing being your joy and salvation.
From reading the book, it feels as if you spill your DNA onto the page—it must be a very exposing and vulnerable experience.
You said you’ve been wondering what it’s all for, of late.
For what it’s worth, reading is my sanctuary and escape, never more so than in the last year when my life basically went to hell in a handcart.
So maybe that’s what it’s all for—for you, the catharsis of writing, and for your readers, safe harbor.
Have ordered licorice. Am not convinced but willing to give it a try.
I’ve been saying Jelly Tots in some of the written interviews.
Jelly Tots! What was I thinking? I haven’t had them since my daughter, Alice, was about five!
I don’t know if they even have them in the U.S.
, I’m probably saying something gross. Have been doing lots of online interviews and blog posts ready for the publication blog tour (I’ve had a crash course in publishing world lingo from Charlie and Prue).
And now to answer your questions. (Feel free to ask me anything, I’m an open book. See what I did there?! I should be on the stage.)
Why did I take the job?
Well, my life fell apart last year when I discovered my (now ex-) husband was having an affair with his secretary—cliché, I know.
I felt as if I was starring in my own straight-to-TV movie, walking in on them in a VERY compromising position, him saying it’s not what it looks like when there’s very little else he could have been doing with his trousers around his ankles! It’s all very sordid, sorry.
Long story short—I’d signed a pre-nup, and I found myself living above my sister’s fancy-dress shop in what used to be her storeroom. A lady of reduced circumstances. Our daughter stayed in the family home for a while but is off at uni now, probably glad to get away from us!
It’s not as bad as it sounds, the studio flat is really quite pretty in a tiny homes sort of way and I get to spend a lot of time in the shop with my sister, who’s basically Rebecca from Ted Lasso crossed with Villanelle from Killing Eve.
So anyway, I wrote to Jojo, who used to be my agent before I got married and disappeared off the face of the earth for twenty years, and Charlie picked up the letter at just the right moment.
It felt like one of those puzzles where one missing piece turns up and they all fall into place.
I’m one of the pieces. I guess that makes you one of the pieces too.
You’re a bigger piece than me, though, obviously.
You’re a corner, I’m a random piece of the sky.
Clive is a tortoise I co-own with my sister, Liv.
He was given to us by a neighbor when we were kids; imagine, a 6- and an 8-year-old girl in charge of a 54-year-old male tortoise!
We were clueless but thrilled to have a pet, he was our one and only.
He lives like a reptile king with my sister and her family these days.
I don’t think boarding-house life would be for him, somehow.
(Note to self: never use personal email address for book-related things! I promise I’ve set an official one up, it just felt more appropriate to speak to you as the real me, unfiltered.)
Can I ask you a couple more questions that have cropped up a few times?
Do you write longhand or on PC/laptop?
Have you ever broken any bones?
Favorite holiday destination?
Speak soon,
Kate
Dear Kate,
Your ex-husband sounds like an arsehole and your sister should run the country.
Longhand or typed?
Both. PC mostly for getting the words down, but I sometimes switch to longhand if I need to chew over a few different scenarios—more satisfying to cross out than delete.
I have a 1952 Hermes Baby typewriter, a beloved gift that’s far too beautiful to use.
Plus a mechanical keyboard for an alternative sound—writing is a long, old job, it can feel monotonous.
Having options to switch things up is useful when you’re flagging.
That’s where the licorice comes into play too.
Can’t say I’ve ever eaten a Jelly Tot, possibly because I don’t have children to buy them for, so feel unqualified to comment.
Have I ever broken any bones? (Have you?)
I broke a bone in my back twenty years ago, came off a bike.
A tandem, ridiculously, the one and only time I’ll ever get on such a contraption.
While on deadline, of course. Someone gifted me some bizarre telescopic glasses to use the laptop while lying flat, which worked at a push but caused so much hilarity they proved more of a hindrance than a help.
Favorite holiday destination?
Some of my most carefree days have been spent on Formentera, an island off the coast of Ibiza.
A place so beautiful it hurts your eyes, as if a rogue tornado scurried a tiny Caribbean jewel across the world and deposited it in the Med.
Don’t mention it publicly—it’s one of those places people in the know don’t talk about in case everyone discovers it.
India was fascinating, L.A. all-consuming, New Zealand breath-taking. Those aside, put me in a remote cabin on a Welsh hillside, sea view non-negotiable. Perhaps that’s the key. I need to be near the coast.
Where makes your list?
Best,
H
Hi H,
Am replying from my sparkly new official Kate Darrowby email—Clive has been jettisoned at last! (Have given myself an awful image of him being unceremoniously fired from a cannon. Rest assured, no tortoises were harmed in the creation of this email account.)
A tandem? I can’t think of another human I’d trust enough to get on one of those with. Whoever invented them should be fired from that cannon instead of poor old Clive!
I’ve never broken any bones at all. I do have a crooked little finger, though.
Liv slammed her foot into it sliding down the banisters at our grandmother’s house.
I was at the bottom with my hand on the rail and she smacked straight into me then fell off and twisted her ankle.
We conducted the entire grisly scene in strangled silence, because we had the kind of grandmother who really detested having children in her house.
I’ve looked Formentera up and I’m officially OBSESSED. I’ll keep the secret, but it’s gone straight to the top of my bucket list.
Where makes my list?
I’m really not well traveled—I’m ashamed to say I’ve barely ventured outside Europe. Florence made my heart sing, Sardinia too. I find myself drawn to Italy for the pasta, pizza, and passion!
I love Cornwall best of all, though. If I ever have enough money, I’ll buy a tiny shuttered house overlooking a harbor and spend every morning drinking good coffee and watching the boats come in.
They’ll be so used to me they’ll look up at my open windows and I’ll shout down to see what they’ve caught, and they’ll save me the best for my dinner.
Community, I guess. Belonging. I lived a long time in a place where it was severely lacking, despite the regular dinner parties and garden gatherings.
Do you get nervous before a book comes out?
Because I feel as sick as a parrot about this one and I didn’t even write it! I guess some of my nerves stem from the possibility that people might realize they’re not my words, but mostly I just want people to love the story as much as I do. It really matters to me.
Do you have any publication-week rituals or tips?
What do you like to do when you’re not writing? As in, what lights you up, besides books?
This is a random one, but someone asked for my favorite smells. Anything come to mind?
Until next time,
Kate x