How to write a book

I didn’t set out to write a clickbaity title today. Mostly I choose titles for my essays that are lyrical and melancholy, pointing towards the nature of life and love. I don’t pretend to be an expert on either, but I can be good at writing emotionally. I can move my readers and make the personal universal.I enjoy writing urgently, pouring my head and my heart onto the page as the feelings come. For me, it is a way to make sense of the world, as well as creating a crucial connection with people outside my own mind.

But today I want to tell you how hard it is for me to write a book. I want to be honest with you, because you read my work, you connect with me, and your support is an important part of my creative life. Your comments and messages lift me up.

My personal situation is specific and challenging. It’s hard for me to find time to write, although I think the many constraints I have upon my time often force me to the page. To suggest I feel gratitude for the challenges I’m juggling would be pushing it, because they have caused a lot of pain, and I’m angry at the way my family has been harmed and failed by various systems. But I am a storyteller and a word-weaver.

I managed to write ‘a beautiful, absorbing story’ during a lockdown spent alone with four children, and then ‘a searing memoir’ whilst caring for my daughters and navigating tribunals and endless appointments. Later this year an essay I wrote, in between promoting Unschooled and settling my family into a new life, will be published as part of an anthology about rural living. I also write a monthly column in Psychologies, usually early in the morning or late at night, while daughters roam the house and I try not to let them distract me. On paper, I know I look like someone who is winning, although it doesn’t always feel that way.

My first book, Twelve Moons, arrived fairly easily onto the page. I say that in the context of writing a book, which is never an easy thing to do. All I mean is that the story was hovering on my pen and poured out quite quickly. It took me fifteen months of sitting at my desk while the sky was still dark, and didn’t need huge amounts of rewrites or edits. I chose a simple structure, took many notes each day as life whirled around me, and wrote the story of my life. Some nostalgia was added for context. I started that book in January 2021, and by January 2023 it was in bookshops across the UK.

My next book, Unschooled, was a trickier beast. I parted ways with my agent, and struggled, in the flailing memoir market, to find a home for my story. By the time my proposal was accepted, by the wonderful Little Toller, time was of the essence. In order to get the book into people’s hands at the start of the school year, and garner as much publicity as possible, I had about six months to finish the book.

In case it needs to be stated, Unschooled is not the same as Twelve Moons. It has a similar urgency to it, but the structure is less straight-forward. The three timelines were woven together so delicately I was scared the whole thing would disintegrate every time I edited it. It was a relief to have an excellent editor for this second book - Adrian has a light touch but is insightful in his thinking and gave me the confidence to have faith in my ability to tie the loose ends together neatly.

As a memoirist, I was less scared when I wrote Unschooled. I wasn’t worried that I was opening myself up to personal attack from anyone I was writing about in the book. I didn’t disguise my kids in the same way I did in Twelve Moons. They were not folkloric characters playing a supporting role to the wild landscape around them. I simply gave them pseudonyms. They were essential to the story, because the book is about how they haven’t fitted into school. But it was all written through my eyes, designed to convey the impact of our failing education system upon the family as a whole. I felt, and still feel, that the greater goal of Unschooled is to highlight the need for radical societal change if we are to meet the needs of every child. And I wrote it to give voice to other parents like me, who often feel marginalised and forgotten. My kids were not collateral damage in an ego-driven project, because I revealed as little as possible about them in order to pin the story to the page.

And I will always argue that women’s stories must be told. We are so often hidden away due to care responsibilities. We shove our creative desires to the bottom of the to-do pile and carve space for others to shine. I write in order to understand this state of affairs. I write from my own point of view, and inevitably the people I love will creep onto the page. I’m ok with this. I’ve been told no so often that the tapping of keys sometimes feels like my only act of defiance.

As I dive into a third book, I am less scared than ever of what I put onto the page. I think I need to lean into this fearlessness if I want to write something breathless and fresh. I also recognise that there are limitations to my own thinking. This third time I need to excavate my own curiosity and challenge myself to think more deeply.

But my life still doesn’t offer up swathes of time that are only for me. I don’t have the luxury of a room of my own, in the sense that when I close my bedroom door it is liable to pop open at any time. This new world we are building in the middle of the city is still new. The edges are frayed and the foundations I need to be in place for us all are unsteady, though I have done the right thing by moving us all. I hope.

All this is to say that, in order to write this third book, I am forced to be strict about how I spend my precious time. My mind needs to be allowed to dream, an almost impossible task at the best of times. I will still draw upon what is happening now, what is urgent, the emotions that bubble on my surface, but I need to save these words for something long-form.

On a practical level, I also want to work on something now while I have a fairly new book in the shops. I don’t have an agent and, whilst I know that is not an imperative, I’d like to get this next manuscript in front of as many eyes as possible. It’s hard to do that when your work is unsolicited.

So moving forwards on Substack there will be less musings on life and love, but I will still be engaging with my community on here. I will post interviews with other creatives like Clover Stroud and Salima Saxton , share progress updates and share personal readings from Unschooled in the lead up to its paperback publication. I will still be here, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I save some of my thoughts and my words for the next book.

More soon x