The Silver Stopper

The Silver Stopper, my Colette story, has graduated from the long-list to the short-list, and now sprints to runner-up! Thank you, Fish publishing, thank you! It’s so wonderful to know that someone else thinks that all those hours (years, if you add them up) tapping away at the keyboard and getting RSI are not wasted — my stories are worth reading, it’s not just an egomaniacal delusion on my part! The Silver Stopper will be published in the Fish anthology, which is fantastic!

The anthology will be launched in Ireland in July: now I have the terrible dilemma of deciding whether to participate. On one hand, it’s a fabulous opportunity for me as a writer (how can I pass up a rare moment of glory, however brief?!), on the other, it would be extravagant and irresponsible of me to go, as I made that long and expensive journey only a few months ago, the toilet roof is leaking in three places (the ceiling’s come off) and the boiler needs to be replaced… Oh, the conflicting worlds of writing and home ownership! Perhaps we should sell up and rent a tiny attic garret somewhere warm and dry, where someone else has to worry about annoying, practical things!

The Colette chapter that The Silver Stopper is adapted from is growing nicely, and has passed the 10,000 words mark! That’s the first milestone: only another 7 to go! (Not really, the Anais chapter is over 10,000 words as well, so the Nights in Paris novel is over a third completed.) That’s the wonderful advantage of writing a novel over writing a short story: with the strict word limit of a short story, you have to be much more disciplined and cut anything that’s not absolutely necessary. A novel allows you to indulge in digressions and details… of course, the challenge is not to indulge yourself too much! I find it fascinating that the acceptable corseted female waist measurement was a tiny 18 inches (46 cm) in 1870, increased only very cautiously during the 1880s, then started to speed up in the 1890s, shooting up to a relatively expansive 23 in (58 cm) in 1908 (still very small by today’s standards). However, this is a novel, not a textbook, so I’ve condensed my research into a mere half-sentence in the novel (sigh). But I’m sure Colette wouldn’t want me to write about centimetres, she would want me to write about the lobster and caviar sandwiches, the Pommery champagne, the cherries in liqueur and, of course, the loves that she enjoyed…

J’ai (presque) gagné! Mon histoire courte sur Colette a gagné un prix chez Fish Publishing! L’histoire sera publié dans un livre en juilet l’année prochaine. Maintenant, l’affreux dilemme, c’est de décider si je peux me permettre de participer au lancement du livre, car c’est en Irelande, et de la Nouvelle Zélande, ça fait loin…

new Max and Lucia story

A few months ago I began a new short story, something completely different to the theme and style of the Nights in Paris novel. It’s set in the present, and the narrator is a man — two things I haven’t done for a few years, since I wrote my first novel. It’s about the same themes as my first novel (the impact of the Holocaust), but in a much more subtle way. My first novel was the initial, therapy part of writing, and now it seems that I can finally move forward and write about the same issues in a less frenzied, less anguished way.

The title, Max and Lucia, is taken from the main characters in The Night Porter, a disturbing, brave, mesmerising film by Liliana Cavani. It was released in 1974 and stars Dirk Bogarde and Charlotte Rampling, who are both chillingly beautiful and perfect in their roles.

In my story, Max, the main character, is in love with a woman he has never spoken to. She works in a salon, and he watches her obsessively from a café. He is tormented by the suspicion that his grandfather was a Nazi during the war, and this fear is heightened by the fact that no one in his family will talk to him about the past. He imagines that the woman is Jewish and that her grandparents survived the camps. He doesn’t know her name but he thinks of her as Lucia, after Lucia in The Night Porter, his favourite film. His imaginings about his past and hers become more and more real to him, until he is convinced that the only way for them to heal is to act out the past in reverse, for him to become her victim.

When I began writing, my initial plan was to write about a Jewish man whose grandparents were survivors of the camps and who is in love with a woman he doesn’t know, who works in a salon. He imagines that her grandfather was a Nazi, and feels compelled to go to her for a painful treatment, hoping that the pain will release some of his deeply-held issues. But then I thought how much more interesting it would be if it were the other way around: someone with a (possibly) Nazi background who wanted to exorcise his guilt and shame. It’s been a fascinating exercise: writing as a man is strangely liberating, empowering and exciting.

J’ai fini mon histoire Max et Lucia, inspiré par le film italien Il Portiere di notte – un film stupéfiant, courageux et beau.