GUEST BLOG: Val Penny

I have a treat for you and an honour for me this week: my first (and I hope not last) guest blogger. And she’s a corker!

I met Val Penny last year at the Association of Christian Writers’ weekend conference last year. Feeling mentally full from all the stimulating presentations, I regretfully decided to bunk off the Sunday morning one and headed for the bar/coffee lounge. I instantly felt less guilty to find Val had done the same! The time zoomed past as we talked – about writing, our families, all sorts of things. I don’t know what was in that coffee but we just clicked.

I was at the beginning of my writing career whereas she is an established published author. She is very much part of the Scottish writing scene (the naïve fangirl in me couldn’t quite get over how she referred to Alexander McCall Smith as ‘Sandy’). But she made me feel (as did so many people at that conference) like the two of us sat on those comfy sofas were just both writers with equally valid experiences and skills.

I’ve read her crime DI Hunter Wilson crime series and I’m looking forward to her latest, Hunter’s Secret, which came out this week. They would make a great TV series. If you enjoy a police procedural or a bit of Tartan Noir, do check them out (details at the end of the blog post).

In the meantime, here’s Val and the story of how she became a crime author. Enjoy!

The Power of Belief

I had always wanted to write a novel, and indeed had written a story for my little sister when we were both small children. I still have that first book.

When I worked in the ‘real world’ I always dreamt about a job that I could work in tune with my body clock, that would mean working from 11am to 3pm and from 7pm to 10 pm! That was not possible then.

In my job, I worked an average of 12 and often 16 hours a day, certainly not the perfect hours I dreamed of. Also, I spent my time writing opinions, contracts and documents to the extent that any ideas of writing fiction had to be put to one side. Interestingly, though, life does not travel in a straight line and after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I took early retirement. I could not work at all while undergoing the gruelling cancer treatment, never mind the dream hours I had hoped for.

I was lucky, my disease was diagnosed early, my husband was able to attend every chemotherapy appointment with me and a local charity provided drivers to take me to each of my daily radiotherapy appointments. However, the treatment left me exhausted and unable to undertake any of my interests or hobbies. Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but day-time television programmes leave a lot to be desired! I was tired, but not too tired to complain.

My husband bought me lots of novels and I read voraciously. Then I started a blog to allow me to review the books I read. Eventually, my husband said to me in exasperation, “if you know so much about what makes a good book, why don’t you write one?”

That made me laugh!

I doubted that I had the talent or the energy to complete a novel, but my husband encouraged me. He believed in me. He still does and he made me believe in myself. When I sent off my manuscript to two different publishers and was accepted by both, his belief and mine seemed justified.

Without my husband setting me the challenge and having the belief in me to write a book, I never would have done it, but I do work my dream hours in line with my body clock, at last.

I have six novels published by SpellBound Books Ltd and a nonfiction book under my belt. If you enjoy crime fiction do give The DI Hunter Wilson Crime Thrillers and Jane Renwick Thrillers a try and let me know if you like them.

Detective Inspector Hunter Wilson is called to the scene of a murder. DCs Tim Myerscough and Bear Zewedu found a corpse, but when Hunter arrives it has disappeared, and all is not as it seems. Hunter recalls the disappearance of a dead body thirty years earlier. The Major Incident Team is called in but sees no connection – it is too long ago. Hunter is determined to investigate the past and the present with the benefit of modern DNA testing. Tim has other problems in his life. His father, Sir Peter Myerscough, is released from jail. He, too, remembers the earlier murder. There is no love lost between Hunter and Sir Peter. Will Hunter accept help from his nemesis to catch a killer?

Hunter’s own secret is exciting and crucial to his future. Will it change his life? And can he keep Edinburgh safe?

Hunter’s Secret is available from https://tinyurl.com/ezer746e and from online and all good bookshops.

IN SIGHT OF THE TIDE: Holidaying at Home

We’ve had a lovely week with our boys staying, which has given us a chance to be tourists again. In a way. I’m not sure you can ever be truly a tourist again once you live there. But still, it’s given us the chance to revisit some favourite places and show off some loved ones, as well as try some new things. And we’ve certainly packed a lot in.

Just enough time for a pizza after their arrival, we headed straight off to Liskeard for Saturday evening to an open mic night at the Liskerett Centre. It was part of Liskeard’s Creative Jam and run by the same person who leads Valley Verse, the local poetry nights in Looe.

Not a big event. But big for me as it was my first time reading my poetry in public (when I went to Valley Verse, I had no signal on my phone so couldn’t join in – this time, I came ready prepared with poems written out the old fashioned way in a notebook). It meant a lot and did make it easier having brought my ‘fan club’ with me but it was a welcoming group anyway, full of talent.

More music festival to enjoy on Sunday, an entertainment the boys are obviously more recently used to than I am, but great to hear their positive comments on the community feel of this one as well as share their wide appreciation in music.

A couple of things didn’t work out. Quiz Night at our local was stymied by not reserving a table in advance for dinner. However, we still enjoyed an evening in another pub meeting up with one of my closest uni friends. I was so happy to introduce them to each other, in a strange bit of role reversal.

Then strong winds cancelled our boat trip to the Eddystone Lighthouse and rain limited some of our outdoor walk plans. But the youngest Mr M and his dad managed the coastal path to Polperro, where his brother and I arranged a more leisurely drive there for lunch and to pick them up. And we had a fabulous day in Plymouth, trying out the Everyman cinema in Royal Williams Yard for the first time.

We’ll definitely be back – this is a cinema which makes a visit an experience. Comfy double sofas with loads of leg room and side tables. Food and drinks brought to you in the auditorium (including one of my favourite alcohol free gins). Or you can eat in the lounge/bar beforehand, which is furnished to feel more like a club: all plush velvets and autumn jewel colours. It helps to be in a beautiful, sympathetically converted building (Royal William used to be a Georgian naval victualling yard). And service that felt personal as well as professional.

We’ve eaten some fabulous food, watched our favourite TV shows in the same room, and had some quality one to one time. It’s also been a time to get to know the boys again. Relationships are different at a distance. And people change, grow, or have interests and motivations you don’t always get a chance to see unless you’re face to face. Spending time with them has been a joy. And a privilege.

IN SIGHT OF THE TIDE: Celtic Song

One of the great things about living in Cornwall is the rich cultural life that flourishes here. Not just poetry and writing, painting and sculpture, but music.

It’s Looe Weekender at the moment, a music festival that has changed name and focus many times over the years. It started as a local event, became commercialised (with some big names playing), then cancelled more than once, only for the local community to take it on again. It’s been Looe Saves The Day, Looe Live, and Looe Music Festival; this year, it’s Looe Weekender and back to its roots. And all the better for it, I think.

All the venues are community spaces: pubs, restaurants, squares. All the events are free. And all the acts are from the South West. But that doesn’t mean the quality is amateur. Far from it. And we’re spoilt for choice when it comes to music genres.

Last night we headed over to East Looe to hang out at one of our favourite cafes, The Lookout, to listen to two lovely jazz singers. It was a wonderfully chill vibe, accompanied by coffee and hot chocolate and the fabulous view out to sea from the harbour.

With the light fading, we wandered off to look for food via a short diversion to the beach. The evening is when we like to go most: space on the sand, sky colours reflected in the sea, waves at our feet. A few families still playing rugby and some teenagers using the kayak storage for climbing practice obviously thought the same.

We passed The Fishermens Arms, where the crowds who had spilled out into the street were joining in the refrain of a George Ezra cover. All the local eateries were making the most of the custom with barely a free table to be seen through their windows. Great to see after such a quiet wet summer.

Fish and chips takeaway for us, we found a spare outside table on the harbourside. Cowpunk band (yes, you read that right), The Duskies, were giving it some welly across the river on the West Looe Quayside stage. We had a perfect view and loved their hillbilly version of Staying Alive. A hundred yards from us the Fish Market restaurant was doing a brisk trade – during the day it’s another (rather intimate) music venue.

To be honest, we don’t even need to go out for the music over the weekend (although I have my eye on a few spots at the Hannafore Kiosk tomorrow) because our house is just uphill from the West Looe Quayside stage. All we have to do is open the windows. The Feel Good Factory is doing their thing as I write this.

But we’re blessed because music is part of the life here all year round. We’ve listened to ukelele bands and folk music by Hannafore Beach. Regular concerts at the lifeboat station. We were disappointed when the classical concert at the local vineyard got called off because of the summer weather. Our local, The Jolly Sailor, hosts a weekly shanty night with song sheets to join in, led by the wonderfully pun titled Miner Quay.  Even the monthly car boot sale had The Huckleberry Finns playing from a trailer.

Is there a music gene in Celtic blood? Is it something old fashioned about a more rural place and making your own entertainment? Or is it the landscape that attracts musicians just as it does artists? Whatever it is, I’m grateful. It promotes that feeling of community and adds to the reasons of why this is such a special place to live.

IN SIGHT OF THE TIDE: Back to School

Only a week since I handed my dissertation in and I am back in a seminar room at university.

It’s the Poetry and Care Conference my dissertation tutor recommended I attend, particularly one panel presentation which covered similar areas I’ve specialised in. I’m also volunteering on reception as a way of saying thank you to the department and my professors. Or perhaps it’s hard to let go of what’s been such an enriching year. I’m increasingly thinking I’d like to come back to pursue a doctorate and the conference has reinforced that.

I’ve been to a number of conferences in my previous career, and I’m grateful for that familiarity with the setup, but this one feels different. I guess because I don’t have to be here, because it’s only me who will benefit from it, because of the joy of the subject and such a feeling of community. There’s a range of experience and expertise but the atmosphere is of mutual appreciation and encouragement, a sense of equality.

I feel more relaxed. So it’s no big deal when I go in later than planned each day (thanks to one dreadful night’s sleep and another missed alarm). It’s more than OK to prioritize my own wellbeing. And there is so much good stuff on offer that it may even be better to be selective and pace myself.

I do have my notebook in front of me in some presentations but only to write down particular lines or phrases that I love, or to muse on how I might use similar techniques or ideas in the future. One presenter comments that it’s ok to let your concentration come and go during her poetry reading and I love that acknowledgement, because that’s what happens when listening to poetry anyway.

I make the effort to go and speak to some of the presenters, either because they have inspired me and they could be useful links for the future. I get to tell them about my dissertation and they respond with interest and encouragement. I’m trying to find my tribe within the poetry world, people who do similar work, and I’m beginning to see they are out there. Mr M comments when I get home how much more confident I am in doing this, another benefit of the past year. I think I’ve always been able to do it but now it doesn’t take the big chunk of courage and effort it used to. I feel part of this community.

I said in my last post how much I needed a break after the fatigue of completing my dissertation. A two day, full-on poetry conference doesn’t really fit that, does it? Long days, hours of concentration, a snatched sandwich dinner on Plymouth station. But remarkably, this morning I feel refreshed by the experience.

I have connections to explore. The fun of new techniques to experiment with. Potential new ideas to pursue. Confirmation of my way forward. I’ve got my poetry mojo back.

IN SIGHT OF THE TIDE: Finished!

So, it’s done. Dissertation finished and submitted. MA completed. An amazing year is all over in a press of a button.

It’s a strange feeling. I thought it would be more … euphoric, celebratory. Instead, my main emotion is exhaustion.

Not surprising really. The dissertation has been an enormous piece of work. As my tutor said, I don’t make things easy for myself. But I think if I had chosen an easier route (which for me would have meant purely text poetry) I would have ended up dissatisfied with “I wonder” and “what if” hovering in my mind like sea mist.

That’s one thing this course has taught me: courage and confidence to try new things. It’s been such a gift to have other people, especially those with expertise like my tutors and those with skills like my fellow students, not only believe in my writing but be excited by it.

And by stepping away from the stress and routine of my old job, I’ve had the headspace and emotional energy to try new things. To discover the joy in creating and do it over and over again, it’s been fun. I’ve had a tiny glimpse of why God looked at creation and said: “It is good.” Creating feels good. Perhaps that’s why I’m back on the blog less than two days after finishing.

So what now?

That’s a good question. But it’s not one I’m facing alone. This week the Lovely Mr M took early retirement. For various reasons, including some similar to mine when I left my job last year, but also because he’s seen how much happier I have been in this last year. And life is short and unpredictable. As Rob Parsons says in one of his parenting books:

‘No one ever got to the end of their life and said, “I wish I’d spent more time at the office.”’

So we’re going to figure this out together.

Yesterday, we wandered around Saltram, a National Trust property on the other side of Plymouth, an elegant Georgian house full of art surrounded by lush grounds. The lawns were scattered with inviting deckchairs; paths led to follies with glorious views; and we sipped tea from mismatched china under a cedar. No rush, no deadlines. We’d promised ourselves a day of looking at beautiful things and that’s what we did.

We needed that relaxation. And by evening we, I felt more in celebratory mood for all we’d achieved (and a large amount of credit must go to Mr M for his technical skills and work in photographing, videoing, recording and editing my work for submission). So we stopped off in the Waitrose at Saltash on the way home for some fancy snacks and non-alcoholic fizz. We know how to live.

And we do have some plans. A barbecue with friends tomorrow. I’m off to a poetry conference back at uni next week. Otherwise, a month of pottering about getting jobs done on the house and garden that have been put on hold, interspersed with more days out like yesterday. There’s the Japanese Garden near St Mawes and RHS Rosemoor over the border that we’d like to see. Then in October, we’re heading up to Scotland for a driving holiday, hopefully the North Coast 500, popping in on friends and family on our way there and back.

And long term? Well, we have some ideas but I’ll save those for another post.