J is for Jealousy

I realise the title of this post could lead to all kinds of misconceptions about its content, so let me say from the off that in no way do I mean jealousy in a mean-spirited way. What I'm referring to is the awestruck 'I wanna be like that' way - except that didn't begin with J and neither does envy (nothing much does in publishing, actually, hence the absolute age it's taken me to post about J). Secondly, it's about what I'm awstruck about, rather than the other way around. I doubt very much that anyone wants to be exactly like me right now as I sit in track pants and T shirt, with rather bad hair, my fingers sore from typing manically all day, wondering what I can rustle for dinner after already having rustled last night.

It was a little while ago now, when I was at the wonderful Heffers Bookshop in Cambridge taking part in their annual 'Bodies in the Bookshop' event that I was chatting to a couple of other authors about what 'J' could be in my series. Jealousy was mentioned, amid rather loud laughter and, as I'd already considered it, I thought I'd write a few words on it.

My jealousy began a long time ago, when I first wanted to be a writer. It started about age ten and went on for nearly three decades. It's still going strong. I suppose that jealousy could also be described as the burning desire to write, to not be left out of the amazing party that is publication. I admit, I was envious beyond belief when a thirteen year old girl was interviewed on Nationwide by Frank Bough. She'd written a novel and it was going to be published. At thirteen! I can't tell you how much I wanted that to happen to me. I can't tell you how green with envy I was. So much so that I bought a new notepad from the corner shop and started scribbling immediately. I was a girl obsessed and even wrote to Penguin to ask what I had to do to get my book published.

A rumour spread around my school that the 'new kid' had written a novel. My ears pricked up and my hackles raised. I was the one who was going to be a writer. My stories were the ones that got read out in class. I eyed this girl very suspiciously for a long time, not enjoying the competition. She was far more popular than me, far more likely to get published, I believed. The jealousy simmered. I never did find out what she'd written, but I know now that her career couldn't be further away from being a writer.

As an adult, but before I was published, I got to know a few people in the business, went to a few literary events, joined clubs and groups, met some authors, some editors from independent presses, other aspriring writers...and, of course, I was 'jealous' - in the awestruck way. They were all doing what I wanted to do - making books one way or another. I believe that my awe/jealousy took me closer to my goal. I truly believe that mixing with the right people, by surrounding myself with like-minded people, listening to their experiences and learning from their mistakes I was able to move, step by step, closer to being published.

Now, writing my seventh novel, with my third book for Headline soon to be released, I'm still awestruck by other authors. Just how many books can James Patterson write in a year? Can Anita Shreve's prose become any more beautiful or Ian McEwan's future words top those of 'On Chesil Beach'? When it comes to all books and authors that I'm 'jealous' of, well the list would be far too long. But it's certainly true that I, and I'm sure many authors will think it if not admit it, suffer from a little of the green-eyed desire monster when it comes to other people's writing. It might just be an occasional sentence. It might be an entire novel. It might be the author themselves - their glam lifestyle, their looks, their fame - but I believe that without jeal...desire, we wouldn't improve as writers at all. It's a bit of healthy competition.

So the upshot of this little musing is that I think I'm quite an ambitious person. Having become a published author, I'm now 'jealous' of those who have sold rights in thirty languages, have conquered the States, have sold film or television rights. There's plenty of jealousy left in me to achieve all this, I hope...plenty of awe to sit back, whistle through my teeth that one day I might sell this many books.

A little bit of jealousy never hurt anyone. Did it?