GENRES, CLASSIFICATIONS AND CATEGORIES - THE WRITER'S MINEFIELD

It's easy to classify your books if you write a police procedural novel or a time travel fantasy or a conventional romance where two young people meet, hate and misunderstand each other but fall into each other's arms in the last chapter.

But how do you classify a book which crosses over from one genre to another, or even a third - and (in the case of my latest, The Family on Pineapple Island) can be read by parents to their youngest children or can be read by parents and grandparents for their own enjoyment?

Most of my novels are difficult to restrict to one genre. Take 'Affair With An Angel' for example. The heroine, a feisty young journalist, finds herself in a strange place that bears a slight resemblance to the Costa Brava. Or it could be Disneyland. Or the delirious fantasy of someone who loves pink.

How did she get there? Is she dreaming - or has she died? She's surrounded by others equally bewildered, some who've arrived by cruise boat, others by train from Mumbai, some even on a magic carpet. And who's this angel who's been appointed her personal guardian? Golden haired, dressed in white jeans and sporting a medallion, his name he tells her is Trevor. Whoever heard of an angel called Trevor?

It's a romance of sorts. A mystery. Science fiction? Whichever, it caused me quite a headache when I tried to choose the right genre.

But stories that wander from classification to classification are the ones I enjoy writing. Even if they leave me with yet more puzzles when I've completed the last page.

BRINGING OUR ANCESTORS BACK TO LIFE

Inspired by a battered old case of photos and documents belonging to my grandmother (long dead) I took out a year's subscription to Ancestry.co.uk and discovered more about her amazing family - composers, musicians, artists, singers and dancers, theatre managers, actors and circus trapeze artists.

I had an inkling before I investigated and the search proved so exciting that it kept me obsessed for the full twelve months (and since).

My biggest regret is that I was barely out of my teens when my grandmother died and I was far more focussed on the opposite sex than on mouldy old family history. If only I'd talked to her! She knew these people.

My first sketch

Getting there but still a long way to go!

Her grandfather, my great-great-grandfather Joseph Bryan Geoghegan, who sang, played, managed theatres, wrote pantomimes and composed songs that are still sung and recorded worldwide today.

Her father, Sydney Bird, a burlesque performer and trapeze artist (who performed in the same theatres and at the same time as Liverpool comedian John Bishop's great grandfather).

Her brother, Sydney, trapeze artist and star of the show until he fell to his death at the age of 16, a tragic event that was recorded in newspapers throughout the UK.

Her sister Bessie, music hall and circus singer and dancer, who died of tuberculosis at the age of 21.

And all the others.

I've got a lot of information through Ancestry.co.uk but facts, sepia photos and b.m.d. certificates aren't enough to flesh out these long gone people. That can only come via someone who knew them, who can tell you about their personalities, what they enjoyed or hated, the day to day intimate details that you have to be there to know about, even their colouring, which we can only guess at now from the black and white or sepia photographs of the time.

My grandmother could have told me whether she knew about her grandfather's second secret family (between the legitimate and the secret families, JBG fathered enough children for a couple of football teams - plus referees! A rogue and a villain, but successful with it!)

I could go on about the genes that give us clues as they pass down through the generations to the present time. Facial and other physical features, talents - I have identical eyes to two uncles, a great uncle and my great grandfather. I'm an artist and writer, my two daughters are musicians. But it would be wonderful to know more.

I'm currently working on a large (30" x 30") painting of my great aunt Bessie Bird with her father Sydney Bird and one of his partners, whose name I don't know). I'm using two photographs, Bessie from around 1900, and Sydney from an old daguerrotype which must have been taken sometime in the 1860s. They could never have performed together like this, but I'm employing a bit of artist's licence - and also showing them in full colour. Of course I can only guess at the colour of their costumes, or even Bessie's hair, and it's quite a spooky feeling as I try to bring them back to life in this way.

When I've finished, I plan to run another MEMOIRS WORKSHOP for writers and non-writers - a chance to record their own and their family's lives before it's too late. More news later.

YOU LEARN SOMETHING NEW EVERY DAY!

I spent a lot of time online the other day searching for personal experiences of working on sheep or cattle stations in the Australian Outback. I wanted this info for my latest book - the one that started off with an elderly amputee, a younger amputee invalided home from Afghanistan, a dog, a disfunctional family in Liverpool and a writing class, all of which have been ditched except for number one and number four.

(See my post NOBODY SAID IT WAS EASY from 13 October)

Why did I want to know about Australian livestock stations? Don't ask, I may well change the story yet again by next week.

In any case, I couldn't find what I wanted, so I decided to download a novel that I hoped would give me what I need.

I now know all I didn't need to know about the mechanics of gay sex but all I've learned about the Outback is that there's a lot of red dust.

BOOKS FOR EARLY ONSET ALTZHEIMER'S PATIENTS AND THEIR CARERS

I see it's been proposed to make several books freely available to early onset Alzheimer's patients and their carers to enable them to cope with this tragic disease.

One of the books recommended is 'STILL ALICE', which has now been made into a film with Julianne Moore. 

I haven't seen the film but I did read the book, a beautiful and very moving novel by Lisa Genova, based on her own experience with patients.

However, I think it's the last book I personally would recommend, being deeply saddening and offering no hope as it carries the reader towards the inevitable ending.

A far better choice, I think, would be THE MEMORY BOOK by Rowan Coleman, with a similar main character, a teacher in her forties, also married and a mother.  

This equally beautiful novel is full of tips, practical and ingenious, on how to manage the downward spiral, yet at the same time it's full of humour, love and optimism.I recommend it to any readers who find themselves caught in this terrible situation. 

IN PRAISE OF PAINT.NET

I've been having a lot of fun over the past week or two redesigning some of my covers (I've always created my own - some using photographs, others using my own sketches or detail cropped from some of my own paintings). 

It's useful  being able to combine my two main interests, writing and painting, but you don't necessarily need artistic talent to produce a cover that hits the eye and tells part of the story.

And with Paint.net it's easy to experiment, as it uses a system of 'layers' - each section that you add (photograph, text, special effects, colour changes, etc) is on a separate layer - just remember to untick the layers you're not playing around with!

I taught myself the hard way, by trying and failing, but now that I know how to do it (Isn't it always the case?) I've come across a very good tutorial that you can download as a PDF and print out (37 pages). From Lancaster University it's called 'IMAGE MANIPULATION WITH PAINT.NET'.

The even better news is that Paint.net is FREE! 

NOBODY SAID WRITING BOOKS WAS EASY!

IT'S SO MUCH FUN CREATING A MONSTER!

I love creating a baddie - they're so much more colourful than the goodies. Here's Great Aunt Dorothy from my children's novel THE MYSTERY OF CRAVEN MANOR:

As his eyes became accustomed to the dimness he saw something bulky in the corner, motionless in the shadows. Then the hum of wheels and Great Aunt Dorothy moved forward to greet him. He tried not to stare at the grotesque figure in the wheelchair. Great Aunt Dorothy was immense. He thought she was probably the fattest person he had ever seen. Her flesh - so much flesh that it overflowed the sides of the chair - was swathed in black, and in spite of the warmth of the day a fur cape hid her shoulders. Her dark hair was coiled in an elaborate pyramid of curls, held by a large tortoiseshell comb. Matt wondered if it was a wig. He wondered if she was bald underneath.

Thick white powder clogged the heavy folds of her face and neck. Against the whiteness her scarlet lips and the dabs of rouge on her cheeks gave her the look of a sinister clown.  Her eyes were sharp and black as basalt. 

On her lap was a large open box of chocolates. A plump hand hovered over it, chose and popped one into the scarlet circle of her mouth.

'You may sit on the bed,' she said. He stared at the rumpled satin sheets. A heavy musky scent rose from them.

She laughed, a slurpy chesty laugh that set her mounds of flesh shaking in several directions at once.