What makes a good Reading Group Book?

A friend's agent advised her to write a 'reading-group' book, because 'that's what publishers are interested in'. I've noticed that some books are now so targeted that they include 'discussion questions' as if they were A-Level set texts. It made me wonder about makes a good reading group book and I applied the question to two examples that came up last week.



I'm enrolled in four groups, all meeing in local libraries. In lean times, this is fine, but when I have a pile of own-choice books, not to mention those I've agreed to review, it's a bit of a challenge.

No wonder I mix up venues. For Thursday's discussion of The Quiet American, no problem; the librarian at Blackheath Village sends reminders. But I turned up at Manor House Library on Saturday morning only to be redirected to Lewisham High Street.

Irene Nemirovsky's Fire in the Blood , written in the 1940s, is a recent publication, discovered only years after the writer died at Auschwitz. Her husband sent their daughters to safety shortly before his own arrest. They carried their mother's papers in a suitcase. She was already author of a best-seller, David Golder, which I haven't read but which was made into a successul film.

I did read Suite Francaise , for one of the groups, last year. In it, Nemirovsky was unflattering about members of the French middle classes fleeing Paris just before the Nazi invasion. Fire in the Blood similarly condemns hypocrisy and avarice in village based on one where the author lived. Young women are married off to old men and take young lovers; such activities and and more sinister ones are ignored. The narrator, an elderly curmudgeon cum prodigal son, hides his own murky secrets.

One of the readers thought the narrator was too unpleasant, despite his 'fire in the blood' philosophy, excusing youthful folly and worse ; another found the author too manipulative. Accustomed to crime fiction and its surprises I didn't mind the 'unreliable' narrator, but thought establising the claustrophobic milieu delayed the onset of the narrative. Two members found interesting parallels with their own experiences of respective Spanish and Scottish villages.




Graham Green's The Quiet American met a more sympathetic reception from older readers at Blackheath Library on Thursday. The main protagonist, anti-hero journalist Fowler is a variation on Greene's archetypal expat, morally and spiritually compromised. This world-weary fifty-something opium addict is covering the French war in Vietnam while vying with a young American for possession of a local beauty. Discussion centred around the historical background and colonialism.

Good 'reading group books', I conclude, are books that have important themes, such as justice, hyocrisy, greed, history, love and war, plus a strong narrative, an unusual setting and remarkable characters. In other words, ingredients that good books had even before the recent proliferation of reading groups.

Not Just About Keeping Warm : Quilts 1700-2010 at the V&A



This four-poster bed with bizarre patchwork hangings graces the entrance to a fascinating exhibition at the V&A. Keep warm is almost irrelevant here; it's all about message: displaying wealth, supporting the empire and marking events in important families .

In five themed sections: The Domestic Landscape; Meeting the Past; Making a Living; Virtue and Virtuosity; Private Thoughts, Political Debates, the exhibition narrates a depressing but fascinating slice of social history

High-status families marked births and deaths with gifts of quilted pillows and the like, sometimes worked by the by governesses, more rarely by the lady of the house but most often bought in. They were objects of immense family value, passed down to generations. Commercially produced quilts from Canterbury and Exeter, centres of quilting excellence, also supplied the moneyed strata of society.

Commissioning hand-made domestic objects such as quilts meant exploitation of vulnerable workers, evidenced by archived female voices in Wales and Tyneside




The availablity of textiles in the nineteenth century meant women could showcase artistic and practical skills, virtues valued but restricted. They also signalled aspirations. A quote from George Eliot's The Mill on the Floss (1860) illustrates this, when Maggie Tulliver's father reminds her to 'Go on with your patchwork like a little lady'.

Quilts displayed patriotism in an age of political turmoil and jingoism, proked by fears of revolution, such as was happening in France.




Messages and images promoted sobriety, in the style of Victorian samplers. The Temperance Movement encourages patchwork as an alternative to alcohol. Quilts made by Wormwood Scrubs prisoners combined patches of stitched inspirational mottoes connecting crime with punishment and embroidered chains and bars and other prison paraphernalia.

Displays of quilts made by convicts or sailors on long sea-voyages are a reminder of the time-consuming and often communal nature of quilt-making.



For me, one of the most interesting specimens was an example of a printed quilt made in my home town of Preston, in a mill that once specialised in printed borders. It's now a garden centre. Although some would disagree, I think that's a sign of progress.

Spoilt for Choice: Reading Groups at Lewisham Libraries

Joining a reading group seemed a good idea when I was turned off by the chick-lit and celebrity biogs on bookshop shelves. And I'm in just the right place. Lewisham is a big borough, stretching from Blackheath to Forest Hill, with twelve libraries. Most seem to host reading groups.

It's two years since I joined the crime reading group at Lewisham Central Library. We meet on the third Saturday of the month, attendance depending on how popular the book is. Last month's choice, The Dragon Tattoo attracted twelve but the usual group is 6-8 people. There's a suggestions list, but choice often depends on current library holdings, eked out with loans from neighbouring boroughs. Books are kept between meetings for new members to request.

The host isn't always the same librarian, but the role is much the same: replenishing the drinks and biscuits supplies, updating the comment file and prompting discussion. Not that it's necesary - tastes vary and most people are ready to give opinions.


A big advantage with the crime genre is the range. The more predicatble British and American writers like Ian Rankin, Val McDermid, Lynda La Plante, Nicci Gerrard and James Elroy take turns with 'literary' works, such as Kate Summerscale's The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair and Case Histories by Kate Atkinson.

More recently there's been a spate of Scandinavian authors: Arnaldur Indridson's Silence of the Grave; Hakan Nesser's The Return and of course Stieg Larsson's The Dragon Tattoo It's prompted interesting discussion about national characteristics and representation in crime novels.

The current choice is a blockbuster called Homicide: a year on the Killing Streets which like Mr Whicher blurs the boundary of fact and fiction.It's written by David Simon, famous for the TV adaptation of The Wire.

Most discussions progress from the book in question to other works with similar themes/settings/ characters to comparison with film and TV series. It's a way of getting to know writers I wouldn't have read otherwise.

Maybe in reaction to all these murders, I've gone back to 'straight' literature. So for Blackheath Village and Manor House Library groups respectively I read Antonia White's Frost in May, a fascinating account of an Irish convent boarding school in the 50s that I read years ago, and Sean Longley's The Hartlepool Monkey, a recently-published subversive historical novel with an eighteenth century setting which made me laugh. Next Blackheath choice is a favourite, Graham Greene's The Quiet American, which I've seen as a film starring Michael Caine.

On Saturday I learned there's now a writing group that meets at Lewisham library. It makes perfect sense to me but I can see that's another interruption to my writing intentions.

The Man at Finborough Theatre



Sometimes it's the sheer inventiveness of an idea that generates a great piece of writing. A case in point is James Graham's The Man, brilliantly presented at a tiny theatre above a pub near Earl's Court.

Ben has to fill in his tax form and is in a panic. He's kept all the receipts over the past year, but isn't sure what he can claim as expenses.

As you file into the theatre to to take a place on tiers of padded benches you're handed a worn till receipt and told you'll be asked for it at some point in the performance.

And that's what happens. At some point in the show when you feel like it, you offer the receipt to Ben, the single actor. Sometimes it's a ticket to a show, or a CD purchase receipt, and Ben will play an extract on his ipod connected to speakers. But every slip of paper reminds him of an event. As he says, 'We are what we buy'.




The details of Ben's life, his job, failed relationships and family background build like a slowly forming jig-saw puzzle. What starts as a comedy, with jokey comments like 'Everyone lives in Tooting when they first come to London, don't they?' becomes imperceptibly darker.

Samuel Barnett, a face familiar from several TV appearances, is convincingly vulnerable as Ben, changing from cheerful confessional mood to nostaglic sadness as each receipt is read out and he recalls its significance. He engages the audience's sympathy and attention throughout the virtually one-man performance.

He's one of four actors who appear on different nights. Lizzy Watts plays an offstage sympathetic HM Revenue telephone advisor, but the lack of credibility there is no reflection on the actress.Her role is also subject to rotation.

Best of all, the £3 programme is a Methuen text of the play. There seemed to be only one receipt missing when I read it through. Fortunately it wasn't crucial. And what a great chance to study how an apparently randomly chosen sequence achieves a structure (with one or two strategic 'plants')

The Man at the Finborough Theatre:
http://www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk/

Winchester Writing Conference and Competitions



My name must have been put on a list when I applied to attend a talk at the Oxford Literary Festival a few weeks back. Anyway, it was a nice surprise to receive the Winchester Writers' Conference brochure in the mail.

Oh good, I thought. That's not far from London.

But wait! You can't attend individual talks. That's a shame. It runs over five days and you have to opt for whole days, cheapest £80, or go for week-end packages or week-long workshops at prices to make your eyes water.

I suppose that's what makes it a conference, rather than a festival: the practical bent. The workshops look terrific, and the advantage of the venue is you can stay overnight for £32 in student accommodation.

The workshop topics include novels, short stories, dialogue, writing synopses, narrative drive, children's books, getting published - all good, useful stuff.

There's a whole battery of experienced writers, too, to give conference talks about everything from poetry to comedy scripts.

There are chances to book individual sessions with writers, for which you submit work in advance.




The prices put attendance out of the question, but I was interested to see a list of competitions. I have a lot of writing that could do with a polish and an outing.

I sent off for a booklet with winning entries for last year's competitions first, half afraid I might be put off by the quality of entries. I was, initially, but the booklet itself was good value. Apart from the entries, there was a transcript of the plenary address by John Bowen and a concluding article by Vincent McInery. Both very inspirational.


I've settled for entering a short story competition, partly because the prize is a week's writing course in Mallorca. I've chosen one I wrote in 2005 which has gone through many a polishing. Right up to the posting I was finding words to change. Even the entry fee was steep, I thought, at £9, so I restricted myself to just the one.


Well, at least I suppose there's not long to wait, unlike when I used to send stories to women's magazines and wondered for weeks and months what might have happened to them

Download a copy of the programme from : http://www.writersconference.co.uk/index.htm

Auditioning Knole

'Yes, but I didn't drive all the way out here to eat sandwiches in the car then linger in the tea-rooms- I came to see the house.' My husband gave me a 'Why do I have to be always have to be rushed?' look and laid aside his bridge book.

There was only half an hour left to see Knole so all we could manage was the Great Hall and the picture gallery that I remembered from previous visits. The Brown gallery is 88 feet long, with a vaulted ceiling and walls lined with Elizabethan portraits of aristos, churchmen and royalty who'd met with tragic ends; perfect for ghostly sightings. The threadbare chairs ranked along the walls and dim lighting were bonuses. Was that the Slighted Maid of Micklesham Manor, flitting in outline in front of the mullioned window, about where two volunteer guides were standing?

This visit resulted from a competition in my online writers' group. I submitted a synopsis and first chapter of a country-house comedy thriller I've been mulling over for a while. The competition 'prize' was a full commentary feedback for three winning writers. Although I wasn't in the first three I did have enough encouragement and advice to make me continue with the project.

The National Trust houses I've visited over the years have come together in the creation of fictional Micklesham Hall. The characters in the novel, 'On Course for Murder' are holed up at the house, cut off by snow, in Thetford Forest. (based on a real family Christmas at a Norfolk Youth Hostel)

Mickelesham Manor doesn't have Knole's extensive deer park. On the other hand, it does have kitchens, and I think these will come from Lynhydroc, a Cornish mansion I visited a couple of years back, with additional equipment from Hampton Court. The banqueting hall will be like the one at Eltham Palace ( a digression into English Heritage territory) and the library, complete with suits of armour and deer-head plaques, that will bear a striking resemblance to Sir Walter Scott's lowland fantasy retreat at Abbotsford. The main problem will be to avoid mixing periods too much, but some can be accounted for by restorations.

I'm not knocking the portraits at Knole - Gainsborough, Reynolds, Van Dycks aplenty - but I prefer the ones in the Ranger's House at Greenwich Park. Within walking distance. It means visits don't involve transport. Besides, at Knole they tend to be high up on the walls and not so easily examined.

I'll enjoy drawing a map of the fictional house and grounds, cobbled together from various brochures. £5.50, for the Knole one seemed a bit steep and raised eyebrows in the shop until I told Roy it was for 'research' It'll provide architectural and furnishing terminology. Postcards are great 'aide-memoires', too.

It seems to me that the less my research depends on a much loved but somewhat tardy companion the better.

Knole House, Sevenoaks en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sevenoaks

Ready, Steady, Edit.




I probably bought this book before I had anything much to revise or when I was too caught up in writing to pay it much heed. I wish I'd read it before I started.

Now that I'm ready to give fiction another try and have a cache of rejected short stories and novels going nowhere it's just what I'm looking for. I whipped through it, pencil in hand, over a weekend with lots of other stuff going on. Self-Editing for Fiction Writers reads like an easy-to-follow cook book. I can't wait to start applying what the authors recommend.

Renni Browne and Dave King are American editors and say today's fiction readers, unlike those for nineteenth century novels, expect stories to work like films and TV. It's an idea that informs the book's approach.

What I most I liked was the way the book was divided into easy-to-understand chapters with lots of examples from published authors, reviewers' comments and workshop submissions to illustrate the points made.

The twelve chapters have for the most part self-explanatory titles: 1 Show and Tell;2Characterization and Exposition; 3 Point of View; 4 Proportion, etc. They make their points clearly and have a bullet point checklist at the end of each chapter as well as enjoyable exercises with key answers in an appendix.

There's an interesting list of Top Books for Writers and an index. I liked the occasional cartoons gently deflating the image of the writer as hero/tortured genius.

It's good to have positive signposts to start editing already-written pieces, and I'm sure it will influence work-in-progress.


Self-Editing for Fiction Writers;How to Edit Yourself into Print Second Edition (2004) by Renni Brown and Dave King. HarperCollins. NY

Some Like it Literary




I once attended a short story course at the British Museum, so it was with a sense of déjà view I loitered at the Ashmolean last Friday (as you do), filling in time before a 4pm talk, ‘What makes a Good Short Story?’ It was in a marquee in Christ Church gardens and was part of the Sunday Times Oxford Literary Festival.

I’ve written dozens of stories, some having a polite reception at writers’ groups, but none deemed worthy of publication. Maybe I’d find out what was missing. In any case, it was sure to be a good for my reviewing.

My delight at a pole position seat opposite Hanif Kureishi was spoiled by noise from behind – three thirty-something men exchanging banter with various well-wishers. No wonder they were over-excited –they were three of the six short-listed contenders for the £25,000 prize for the best short story in the Sunday Times EFG Private Bank Short Story Award. The ‘talk’ was in fact a discussion chaired by Cathy Galvin, editor of The Sunday Times Magazine.

A very elderly man, sitting further back, his hands folded on the handle of a walking stick was also identified as short-listed author CK Stead. Another, much younger man in an anorak in the back part of the tent was Joe Dunthorne. I immediately warmed to him, if only because he’d distanced himself from the wise-cracking trio. The sixth author on the short-list, a Zimbabwean woman writer, couldn’t attend.

The complete short-listed authors and stories were:
Will Cohu: 'Nothing but Grass' Joe Dunthorne: 'Critical Responses to My Last Relationship'; Petina Gappah: 'An Elegy for Easterly' ;Adam Marek 'Fewer Things' CK Stead 'Last Season’s Man' David Vann 'It’s Not Yours'




The five judges had read 40 stories ‘filtered’ from over 1,000 entries. Judges present, AS Byatt and Hanif Kureishi and literary editor Andrew Holgate, responded to questions put by Cathy Gavin, Lierary Editor of The Sunday Times Magazine. Lynn Barber and Nick Hornby were the judges not present.

So what qualities did they look for? ‘Concision; compression; poetic exactitude’, said AS Byatt. There are no prescriptive rules about one point of view or one emotion and she tried to judge with a blank mind because the short story ‘can do what it likes’ You could quickly tell whether a story was ‘alive or dead’.

Hanif Kureishi said a good story is one that ‘keeps your attention’with ‘The right words in the right order’ (Nothing new there, then) He usually discarded anything that hadn’t grabbed him after three pages. (Which raised a laugh, but I think three pages is generous for a short story)

Byatt said what she liked about writing a short story was knowing the plot so she so could concentrate on the language. Kureishi said he didn’t get bored as he did when writing novels. ‘It’s satisfying to have ideas that can be that can be realised in a week or so’.

Asked to name a short story writer she admired, Byatt nominated Kipling. Kureishi mentioned O Henry, DH Lawrence, Hemingway and Carver.

About changes in form, Byatt detected ‘a new kind of unreality that fits onto the international’. I was puzzled by this at the time but reading the winning story on Sunday made it clear. Holgreave was disappointed by the lack of experimentation.

Asked if they agreed with the saying, ‘Art divides; craft unites’ Kureishi said the craft should be hidden. Byatt looked for a ‘certain rhythm in the language.’

Holgate read an extract from a story that sounded suspiciously like the stories Byatt said she didn’t like: ‘a particular type of masculine American short story’. It was by David Vann and featured a character called Big Al, with ‘fingers as rough and hard as a deformed carrot’

This type of story, in fact, seemed popular. One extract was about men bonding on a duck shoot. Another, ‘Fewer things’, with an ecological theme, was about a man and son on a remote island.

The humour in Joe Dunthorpe’s ‘Critical Responses to my last Relationship’ was welcomed by Kureishi because it was ‘good to read something that didn’t make me want to shoot myself in the head’. He was the author in the anorak who now had my full support.

Holgate wondered if the genre is too miserable,(which in my opinion is true) and referred to Will Colhu’s story of a man who kills his workmate and Petina Gapper’s story set in a settler camp in Zimbabwe.



Style was important, as one bad sentence could kill a short story, whereas it could get lost in a novel. Holgate said ‘It sticks out a mile.’

What, asked an audience member, were the parameters of a bad sentence?

’Well, said Kureishi, clichés stand out, as does a boring start, so it’s best to put the good stuff at the beginning. A bad sentence? ‘The wrong words in the wrong order.’


So now I know, and there’s nothing much to add except that to my great joy the winner was CK Stead, ‘New Zealand’s leading writer, at the height of his powers’. What particularly pleased me was his age - he’s 77. So maybe that's what's missing as far as I'm concerned: I'm not yet old enough.

Reading Speed and the Soap Opera Effect: Håkan Nesser‘s The Return



A body found in a wood in 1994; a murderer released from jail who disappeared in 1993; could they be connected?

That's what Chief Detective Inspector Van Veeteren and his team will have to look into. Unfortunately, the grumpy toothpick-chewer spends most of the book in hospital after an operation for stomach cancer. He's reduced to reading trial transcripts while half-dozen lack-lustre underlings take on the footwork and interviews.

The different reactions to this novel expressed at the crime reading group set me to thinking about how even crime novels need different reading speeds.

Some, like this, are just denser than others. As you read you savour the style and don't mind pondering. If a character comes in on page 30 and you have a vague recollection he's been there before you don't mind looking back. It's the opposite kind of read to a 'page-turner', a cover word that puts me off.

It took a while to get used to the slow, jig-saw like nature of the plot, so I was surprised when a member of the group said she’d found it a ‘quick read’.

The 'routine investigation' unfolds, and it is indeed very routine, (‘repetitive’ is how one member of the group described it) but occasional flash-back chapters privilege the reader.

You can see why the author uses this structuring technique -if he didn't, the reader would be so annoyed with being kept permanently in the dark he'd throw down the book and start reading The Dragon Tattoo instead.

Even the location seems deliberately obscure. The names are Dutch but the place could be Sweden or Poland or any of those north-European places with tiny, introverted settlements surrounded by forest.

An understated rhythm and ironic style combine with literary sleight of hand. Nesser, someone suggested, is well-served by his translator to produce a prose so subtle it’s almost mesmeric. Surveillance of a suspect in a high-class restaurant sets a humorous scene for hapless cops to relish a gourmet meal on expenses. Passages where the point-of-view isn't immediately identified almost make you suspect the author is playing games at the reader's expense; or perhaps he assumes you like it when he teases.

The real turning point of the book, the crucial 'return', is that of Van Veeteren. Once he's back on his feet Van Veeteren soon has things moving, while ratcheting up the intellectual level by several hundred percent. It’s as if he’s wandered in from a novel by Hesse or a Bergman film, except that he’s no indecisive Hamlet. As his name suggests, he's seen too much to hesitate.

His musings are suitably enigmatic:

'What does a fractual care about a camera?' he asked himself.

But he's a man of action when action's required. In the space of a few pages he has put an interviewee through the wringer, osmosed the identity of the murder in a visit to a hut, and achieved the true end of every detective story with a truly shocking twist.

The Return isn’t a good introduction to Nesser’s work. It’s a sequel to the earlier Borkmann’s Point, which won him the best novel award in Sweden in 1994, and the third Van Veeteren novel. I hadn’t read any before, so didn’t possess the ‘cultural capital’ that would have made the earlier chapters easier to read.

The comparison is with soap operas like The Archers or Coronation Street, where recognition kicks for instant involvement because of previous experience. Here, were the hero called Rebus, or Morse, or, more appropriately, Wallander, it would have the same effect.

One of Van Veeteren’s assistants, Münster, was much more fleshed out as a personality than his fellow-detectives. Like Morse’s sidekick, Lewis, he was happily married, forever dreaming about off-duty domestic bliss. It occurs to me that this may be part of the author’s ongoing scheme of things as the books develop, each one of the characters will enter the spotlight and we’ll know much more of them so that each novel will increase our ‘cultural capital’. While this would enhance the soap opera effect, maybe that’s too fiendish a master plan. I wouldn’t mind sticking around to find out, though.

Too many Projects, but nearly there with this one

It's happened again. I have so many different writing projects that I'm reduced to allocating half an hour a day to each. Of course, this means progress is slow all round.I seem to finish the odd blog, but I've been writing a magazine article for for about three weeks now. There's no deadline,which is just as well. In fact, I'm only just ready to submit a proposal.

I came back from my stint as a volunteer classroom asstant in Spain all fired up with enthusiasm to write some articles. I'm also determined to get paid, which means not writing for websites as I did with some of my China articles. Ditto lots of theatre and film reviews. I'm just regarding that as practice because now I want to earn some money.

Christmas celebrations intervened, then a holiday and a bout of bad health which seemed to last though most of February. Then I revised a synopsis and a chapter for a competition. I joined facebook, restarted evening classes and a crime reading group, etc.etc. All delayed completion of my Zamora piece.

I followed the advice of various courses and 'how-to' articles and looked for a suitable 'outlet' to analyse for tone and content. I trawled through travel mags in WH Smiths.

The most likely print outlet I've found is a magazine called Living Spain , its target audience, as might be expected, people who are thinking of moving there permanently.

As well as guides to the more popular expat areas -there's an article about Andalucia - it includes pieces written by people who've lived and worked in Spain, ranging from the adventurous and unusual - the author man who lives up a mountain, with his Spanish wife, to the more predictable - a woman who teaches English and drama in a private international school on the Costa Blanca. They include details of work and lifestyles as well as descriptions of local fiestas and information for readers who might want to do something similar. Both are living there permanently, so have lots of relevant local knowledge.

Other features include book reviews -written by the same person, so probably a staff writer - some in-depth well-researched articles on, for instance, The Basque Country, with when-to-go and where-to-stay advice. These are written by experienced travel writers. All the pieces are lavishly illustrated with top-class photos.

There's a cookery page and I use the instructions to make a perfect tortilla - though I've had some practice. There's advice on tax and finance and a round up of fiestas and festivals, and a portait of 'Spanish Legend', Seve Ballastero.

I find what I'm looking for on the back page. I've had luck with back pages, before, namely a couple of articles for 'Expat Eye' in the Beijing Review. That was when I worked for a publisher in China and by a stroke of luck a colleague got a job in Beijing. His duties included commissioning writers. The fist piece was about taking part as a judge in an English speaking competition. It meant a week in China's northern-most city, Harbin, at Ice Festival time, with temperatures at -30C.

'How about taking the lid off what it's like to work in a Chinese office?' was his next suggestion. So I wrote that - a great success and very funny, I thought, but relations with the boss were never quite the same.

The back page in 'Living Spain' is named 'Final Call' and this issue has an article called 'A Week on the Camino de Santiago'I decided that space was to be my goal.

I've done my 'how to write magazine articles' homework, analysed the magazine in general and the 'Camino' piece in detail. There's an illustration but I took lots of photos in Zamora so that shouldn't be a problem. The word count is 1200, which could be.Maybe the scope of my piece is too wide.

The structure of the Camino piece more or less does itself - a narrative of the pilgrim's route. There's some dialogue, quite a lot of landscape description:

Almost as soon as we crossed the frontier, the lush greenness of the French Pyrenese gave way to a much rockier and starker countryside and the further we travelled down the valley towards Jaca, the drier and warmer everything became.

Later on;

We also saw all sorts of wildlife, including Griffon vultures, red kites and buzzards

It's all stiffened up with a fair amount of history, a touch of humour. (At the start, the writers friend speaks in French instead of Spanish and says hello instead of good bye.) The human interest or arm-chair travel aspects are covered by accounts of sweaty walks along dusty terrain and a welcome at a hostel.

So, I've used it as model and incorporated most of the elements. Mine lacks the sense of outdoor adventure that appeals in the 'Camino' piece, but has more Spanish people - and children, of course. Maybe I could introduce more drama. Looks as if I'll have to lose about a third of its length, too. I've probably used enough material for two or three pieces.

Now the first draft is finished, though, I should be able to polish it this week. So I'll write the proposal.