Two things make an illustrator stressed:  

a)  Having deadlines.  

b)  Not having deadlines.  

Last year I was suffering  from the first type.  So far this year the second version is looming.  I’ve plenty of work to get on with, including a revision of the Log Book for Children which is nearly out of print, and ideas for new designs, but all that involves spending money before I earn it!  I could do with another book deal, and then I can happily complain about deadline stress again.  

In the meantime, it’s a good time of year for making lists, so I’m starting with a list of my top ten books – the ones I’ve really enjoyed, that is, not the ones I feel I ought to have enjoyed.  Some have been read recently, some are old favourites, but all are on my list of books that deserve reading more than once. There are dozens more, of course, but if I spent any longer sorting them out I’ll never get anything done.  

Non-fiction:  

‘Words, Words Words’ by David Crystal  

An inspirational look at language, how it’s changed, how it’s used and the influences that shape it.   I took this out of the library, read it in one sitting then went and bought it.  Looking forward to a second dip.  

General fiction:  

‘Casting Off’ by Libby Purves  

One of my favourite authors, with stories and characters that take over your life, a core of humour and delicious phrasing.  This one I like in particular because it’s about a middle aged woman getting into a strop and storming off in the family yacht.  

‘The Tennis Party’ by Madeleine Wickham  

No boats in this one, but characters that fill your living room and demand your full attention.  A tale of wealth, envy, aspiration and come-uppance.   Quality chick-lit!  

‘King of the Castle’ by Martin Plimmer  

An underachieving writer faces the challenges of chaotic family life, unappreciative editors and desperate assignments before finding his breakthrough. Endearing and hilarious.  

Travel:  

‘The Last Grain Race’ by Eric Newby  

All my favourite things in one book – humour, clever observational writing and sailing ships.  A memorable account of one of the last cargo voyages under sail, as Newby turns his back on the nine to five and runs away to sea.  

‘The Magic of the Swatchways’ by Maurice Griffiths  

A well thumbed favourite, much loved by all who have discovered that sailing the east coast is more boating around in the muck than mucking around in boats.  Written with the care and modesty typical of the time, this series of pre-war coastal cruising anecdotes is evocative of a more perilous and peaceful age.  

Short Stories:  

‘The Great Automatic Grammatizator and Other Stories’ by Roald Dahl  

Slightly bonkers and rather clever.  Short stories are a joy to dip into, especially the unusual ones that make you think  ’ooh, I wish I’d thought of that!’  

‘Smile’ by Deborah Moggach  

The art of making everyday situations fascinating.  I think it was Alex Keegan who said that a good short story is something you can read in a few minutes but remember for a lifetime.  

Childrens:  

‘Alone on a Wide, Wide Sea’ by Michael Morpurgo  

Crossing an ocean in a small boat, marine conservation issues and a cracking good story.  I wish these books had been around when I was a proper child.  

‘We Didn’t Mean to Go to Sea’ by Arthur Ransome  

Alright, I’ll admit, I’m biased towards sea stories.  Though I could just as easily have put the Chronicles of Narnia in as most influential children’s classic.That’s it for  now.  If I leave it any longer I’ll come up with ten different ones, but these are pure enjoyment - some with a dash of salt!  

My favourite Blackadder episode is the one where Samuel Johnson tries to get royal patronage for the first English Dictionary.  When told that the book has taken Dr Johnson ten years Prince George replies, “Yes, well, I’m a slow reader myself.”  Those of you familiar with the rest of the episode will understand why in our family we love Baldrick’s definition of the letter C – “Big blue wobbly thing that mermaids live in”.

Enough of that, but books are on my mind.  A Radio 2 DJ (naming no names but she’s young and was on late Saturday afternoon) made me cringe when she was talking about television and said something like, “Oh dear, if there’s nothing on tv I might have to go and read a book!”   I know it’s only banter, but it’s sad to think that reading is perceived as the last resort in the pecking order of how to spend time.  Given the danger facing libraries due to public spending cuts, I think we should make more fuss about how special books are.

Rather than witter on and preach to the converted, I’ve been on the hunt for ten good quotes about books:

“The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can’t read them.” (Mark Twain)

“Books can be dangerous.  The best ones should be labelled ‘This could change your life’. ” (Groucho Marx)

“A house without books is like a room without windows.” (Heinrich Mann)

“Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.” (Richard Steele)

“You do not have to burn books to destroy a culture.  Just get people to stop reading them.” (Ghandi)

“Books – the children of the brain.”  (Jonathan Swift)

“I’m going to chop off the bottom of your trouser leg and take it to the library.  There’s a turn up for the books.” (Tommy Cooper)  Sorry about that one, couldn’t resist it!

“Books choose their authors; the act of creation is not entirely a rational and conscious one.” (Salman Rushdie)

“As long as we have books, we are not alone.”

Finally, here’s my favourite -

“Books are lighthouses erected in the sea of time.” (E P Whipple)

If it’s any consolation, I came across an extract of an article by John Ruskin who, over a century ago, bemoaned the fact that more money was spent on horses than on libraries.  It’s up to all of us, of course, to support our libraries and bookshops by using them.  Unless of course anyone out there has a cunning plan….

I’ll let Michael Rosen have the last word on the importance of books, especially when it comes to developing young minds.  His comments to the Guardian on the closure of libraries is summarised here: http://notesfromtheslushpile.blogspot.com/2010/12/bye-bye-libraries-bye-bye-civilization.html.   You do rather hope that eventually the powers that be realise that nothing improves literacy like…. um…reading!

Being surrounded by exceptionally talented people can make you feel a) despondent; b) inspired or c) a mixture of both.  The way to stay sane when attending a SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) conference is to soak up as much information and advice as your brain can handle while at the same time hanging on to your self belief that you’re in the right place at the right time.   What’s great is that people who are at the top of their game in the business are so encouraging and thorough in helping other people to succeed too.

So, what did I learn?

1.  That I need to put more images in my blog and avoid huge chunks of text.  (oh, ok then.  Here’s a pic.  Better?  Now carry on reading)

One of the new seasonal cards for sailors....

 2.  That it’s ok to be eccentric, silly or flamboyant.  In fact it’s useful if you want people to buy your books.  Phew.

3.  That the worst thing you can do as a writer is write boring stuff.

4.  That professionals give brilliant critiques, dismantling your story with such skill and care that you feel at the end as though you’ve had a makeover and shed loads of excess baggage.

5. That I now have even more entertaining blogs, posts and websites to follow that I did before (like Nick Cross, www.whoatemybrain.com, Lynne Chapman ‘An Illustrator’s Life for Me’,  www.lynnechapman.blogspot.com and several more but that’ll do for starters or I’ll end up being guilty of the large chunks of text thing again)

6.  That it’s ok, in fact quite useful,  to think like a ten year old (Good – does that mean I can stop wondering what to do when I grow up?).

7.  That everyone is talented in a totally different way.

8.  That publishers really, really want to find something spectacularly good on their slushpile.

9.  That getting it wrong is just something that happens on the road to getting it right.

10.  That to sell books you need to be a tart and flaunt your front cover at every opportunity.  (oh, ok.  Here it is again – what every child from 8 to 80 needs to know about marine conservation….. not quite ready in time for Christmas, but I think it will be January, with the official launch in March)

So now it’s back to the drawing board – currently on The List are:  drawings for the next Yachts & Yachting magazine, drawings for a brand new magazine coming out in March (more details soon), drawings for the German publisher of  RYA Go Inland who wants the British narrowboats replaced by something more European, unsurprisingly.  And the heap of Christmas commissions that aren’t quite finished, along with half finished paintings for the studio exhibition.  Perhaps I should get off the keyboard and pick up a pencil.  Time to put the kettle on, then.

Normal people decide they want to do for a living.  They then go and find out how to do it, do some training, go for interviews or pitch for work, and then spend their productive years putting it all into practice.  And, ideally, getting paid for it.  It’s entirely logical, but I’ve never quite managed it, having come at all my career choices the wrong way round – by doing first and learning second.  A student studying illustration at art college emailed recently, asking for tips on how to make a career out of illustration.   “Do everything that I didn’t do”, was the only advice I could give, having drifted into an artistic career almost by accident.  I didn’t know I wanted to be an illustrator until I already was one and suddenly noticed that being paid (occasionally) for sitting on a chair doodling and colouring in was quite enjoyable.  Being an author, too, was not something I aspired to before being asked if I could also write the series of books I was initially being commissioned to illustrate.   (Well I wasn’t going to say no, was I!)

The only drawback with stumbling into your career choice through the back door is that you feel like the person who sneaked into the party through the kitchen because they weren’t on the official guest list.  Ah well, blagging has got me this far in life, so it will do me for a bit longer whilst I carry on swotting up on the real skills I need to join the party properly!   I’m a great believer in the power of learning on the job, especially as the more your learn, the more you realise there is to know.

Which is why I’m off to a conference in Winchester in a couple of weeks’ time for Childrens’ Writers and Illustrators.  Because I think I’d quite like to make a career of it, if that’s quite all right with everyone,  and after six books it’s high time, if not well overdue, to find out what writing and illustrating for children is really all about. There’s an opportunity at the conference for illustrators to exhibit their portfolios, which sounds like an excellent idea. Except for one thing – I don’t have a portfolio.  (see what I mean about doing everything backwards?)  Well…. nobody’s ever asked me for one. An illustrator’s portfolio is what you put all your samples in, your commissioned work, your ideas and sketches so that a client can see how brilliant you are. That’s how the business works, apparently.  Hmm, perhaps I should be asking my art student for advice on how to put a portfolio together.  Better late than never?

In the meantime, one of the side effects of having been immersed in drawing and writing about marine conservation for so long is that there are still sea creatures falling off the end of my pencil.  Not that I’m complaining; it’s opened up a whole new world.  Here’s the pendant I commissioned clever Phillipa Lawrence to make for my jewellery range, inspired by the albatross and the Southern Ocean.

A sprinkling of seabirds and sea mammals then jumped onto the design for next year’s year planner…….. (did I mention that it’s now available from the starfishbooks website?  Just in case you might happen to want one)

That’ll do for now. I’ll be giving my pencil another shake next week and hoping some boats fall off it as it’s time to tackle The List, which includes a series of Christmas commissions.  Oops, and I need to plan a Christmas exhibition.  Pass me the pencil sharpener and a glass of wine….

I used to imagine that finishing a book meant typing the final full stop, leaning back in the chair with a sigh of satisfaction, walking to the post box with a large envelope and a spring in your step, pouring oneself a congratulatory drink then nipping out to buy something tasty to wear for the launch party.    Hmmm, not quite.  Well, not at all.  Apart from the fact that email attachments have replaced the bulging package, you have to brace yourself for the six weeks or so of edits, proofs, tweaks, extra bits, panicky lost bits, page number shuffling, and general  email-mayhem that follows the final full stop.  So have I finally finished now?   I can’t guarantee it, but all has been quiet on the inbox front this last week, so I rather hope so.  The sooner it goes off to print, the sooner it comes back and I can hold a copy in my hand.  I won’t actually look inside it of course – I’d be too scared of finding some howling error that I missed, for one thing.   It does make me wonder how this lengthy but essential proofing and editing process was managed before electronic wizadry made frantic four way conversations between publisher, editor, typesetter and author possible. One thing stays the same over time, and that’s everyone’s desire to make a book as good as it can possibly be. 

The end of one thing is always the beginning of something else, so I took a deep breath and looked at my list of ‘things to do after Go Green is finished’.  It includes practical things like ‘tidy up studio’ amongst creative things like ‘new work for Christmas exhibitions’ (easier said than done – I think I’ve forgotten how to paint pictures!) and ‘design more cartoon cards’ (triggering instant sense of humour failure).  Tidying the studio was a good start but I’ve messed it up again since, trying to dig out half finished ideas for paintings and working out what I’ve got frames for. 

Another item on the list is deceptively simple – “Ideas for next book”.  What, go through all that again?  Well, it beats having a proper job.  More news on that next time, once I’ve had a rummage in the creative cupboard and made sure there’s still something in there.

At least some things don’t change in the world of publishing – a glass of blogger’s ruin is going down nicely, thank you.

There’s good timing and there’s bad timing.  Recently back from the ten day marathon that is the Southampton Boat Show, good timing is when you walk onto a stand just as champagne is being popped and all the people you need to meet are there and free to talk. 

Bad timing is when, after a long day at the show and arriving back at our friends’ house in Hamble, we discovered that our hosts were out for the evening and our spare key was safely attached to Perry’s car keys.  Which were on the dressing table.  In the house.  Great.  At least, thanks to the wonders of wifi, we were able to check emails whilst parked outside the house.  But this had to be the night that, after a quiet few weeks on the email front, my inbox unleashed a flurry of messages with last minute edits and queries on my book, currently at the typesetters.  Sitting in a car in the dark is not the ideal place to write the back blurb for the book, remember what cover design we finally agreed on, and suggest a way of getting rid of the blank page after chapter 7.  I did have my working copy of the book with me – but it was in the house, along with the password and log in details for the project management programme that we’re using to communicate between all those involved.

I did the best I could in the circumstances before we gave up and headed off to the pub for some much needed supper.  So if you wonder what the two figures lit only by the glow of a laptop were doing in a Fiat Punto in Hamble last Wednesday night, now you know.   By the time we finished supper, our hosts were home and we were able to go inside and relax, making sure we didn’t forget the keys again.  Of course, for the rest of the week my emails, diligently checked every evening, contained nothing urgent at all.  That’s life.

The boat show gave me the opportunity to have a productive meeting with my bosses at the RYA.  I’ve decided that the two nicest things a publisher can say to an author are:

1.  “We’d like to commission to you write a book about…….”

2.  “We’d like to hear your ideas for the launch party…..”

It’s the nine months slog inbetween these two conversations that are the hard bit.

If my frantic laptop activity in the Fiat Punto succeeded, I’ll have an image of the front cover to post on the blog fairly soon. Meanwhile, here’s me looking zonked at the show.  The wine is purely medicinal.

And the title of this blog?  Apparently Aristotle said it, along with ’excellence is not an act but a habit’.  I can’t think of anything remotely witty or profound to say about it for now, so I’ll quite while I’m ahead.  Time for another glass of something, I think.

Artistic people have the knack of making ordinary things beautiful.  Last week I went to a concert in Goodwick, at a church overlooking the bay.  It was an overcast evening, grey light on a grey sea and the breakwater cutting across the centre of the bay.  There was half an hour before the concert started and Elizabeth Haines (www.elizabethhaines.co.uk) was sketching the view.  Through her eyes and hand, the dull expanse of bay came alive in a swirling pencil sketch of subtle tones.  Half an hour later and the same alchemy was happening through the voice of baritone Richard Parry (www.dramaticsongrecital.co.uk) as he acted and sang his way through the cleverly composed musical drama ‘An Act of Piracy’.  Wonderful – he could have sung a shopping list and it would have sounded good.  It’s always a challenge to try and sketch moving figures, especially when they’re singing and acting,  but it’s fun to try – after all, I need the practice!  With apologies to Richard who is much better looking in the flesh that he is in my sketchbook.

Meanwhile, back in the studio:

Some people have bad hair days.  Illustrators have bad pencil days.  Sometimes I forget how to draw, which is rather inconvenient.  I looked at yesterday’s drawings and two, possibly three of them needed doing again.  There’s no excuse; sometimes you just know that pencil, hand and eye haven’t quite made the connection.  When this happens I doggedly finish the drawing, ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to bother as it’s going to end up in the bin.  This was the version I tried to persuade myself would do:

It won’t, of course.  You’ll have spotted that the arms are too long for a start and it just lacks a certain something.  In the bin it went, and I returned to the original reference sketch (drawn from a photo of James modelling for me, somewhat reluctantly).   Second attempt – that’s better.    In case you were wondering, the illustration is for a page about marine scientists conducting research.  Caption is: ‘Right, now the next question…..’

 Ah well, life’s a journey.  On my headstone I want the words “Bother, I was just getting the hang of it!”

It’s hard not to take weather personally.  I know it’s pure coincidence that June’s hot spell lasted long enough to get ‘Torhilda’ painted, varnished and slipped gently back into the wet stuff at Llanion boatyard.  She had just settled prettily on her new mooring when the first low pressure system of the summer revved up over the Atlantic and swooped, wet and windy, accompanied by all its gale-infested little friends.  Trip to North Cornwall – cancelled.  Charts and tide tables put to one side.  Perhaps August will be brighter, we say, ever hopeful.   Why do we have a hobby that takes all our available cash and time and that we hardly ever get to do?  That’s a rhetorical question, as any boat owner will tell you. 

Living in a house looking at the forecast on the internet makes you cautious, but if your boat is also your home, you take the weather in your stride.  In the days when I lived on board my 24′ gaff cutter, it was a lot easier to get on with in and not spend too much time fretting over isobars.  I recall a windy trip up channel in ‘Kitty’ one year, coming back from the festival of sail in Brest and setting off from Weymouth, more or less happily, with a force 9 blowing.  Not as mad as it sounds, as the wind was behind us, it was a short coastal hop and the gale was due to ease by the time we got into the shelter of the Solent.    Dealing with rough weather when you’ve already got your sealegs is much easier than sitting indoors with the wind rattling the windows and deciding that you can’t possibly sail today because the ironing needs doing. 

Which is why I’m always fascinated and impressed by that rare breed of sailors who deliberately put themselves in the worst conditions that the oceans can throw at them – offshore racing, especially singlehanded, is as tough as sailing gets and a stark contrast to the gin and tonic pottering about that most of us do.  Sailors like Mike Golding find the extreme conditions of the southern ocean as beautiful and compelling as they are challenging.  My current book (the one everyone wishes I’d get on and finish so I stop going on about it) features a double page spread of Mike’s views on the southern ocean, a humbling and valuable perspective on one of the last true wild places on earth.  I wanted to do a picture of ‘Ecover’, Mike’s Open 60, romping over the waves, albatross in attendance.  It took a few attempts but I got there in the end. 

Back to my world of reading, drawing, researching, writing, singing and dreaming about the sea in all its forms.  Perhaps I should throw buckets of cold water over my head for more authenticity… or go sailing more often, perhaps.   I’ll work on it.

My studio table and floor is disappearing under pieces of paper and chapter five is well under way.  Writing and illustrating a book has its own pace and momentum; you have to keep a part of your brain connected to it or it’s hard to pick up the threads again.  On the other hand, twelve hours at the drawing board (including umpteen cups of tea, hanging out washing, raids on the kitchen and periodic dips into facebook of course) are about as much as I can manage.  As well as being immersed in all things to do with rivers, lakes and reservoirs, the first few chapters are now coming back from the typesetters for editing.  I have an ambiguous view of seeing the proofs, my haphazard layouts transformed into professional looking pages.  Just don’t ask me if it’s any good or not, I haven’t a clue!  Encouraging phrases from publisher and consulting editor ping into my inbox from time to time, so I’m assuming I’m on the right lines. 

Here’s my take on how salmon are able to find their way home from the Atlantic to their home river:  Caption is ‘Right, what’s our postcode?’

Meanwhile, my Wednesday art class has a few weeks to go until the end of term so we’re spending time drawing outdoors for the last few lessons.  This week a good time was had by all in Sandy Haven.  Everyone says they find sketching from life daunting, but the results were so much fresher than labouring to copy a photo, in spite of challenges like the strong breeze and bright sunlight.  Mike had an unusual obstacle to overcome whilst sitting sketching a bank of wild daisies.  A family of six came and sat between him and his scene, laid out a rug and had a picnic, obscuring his view without appearing to notice he was there.  That’s a marvel in itself; Mike is a tall and imposing presence and had never experienced total invisibility before.  Challenges aside, a good time was had by all -  call me single minded but you can never do enough drawing.   Sketching, after all, is just thinking with a pencil.

That’s enough – brain is not firing on all cylinders tonight, must have used up today’s store of wit and creativity in silly salmon cartoons and duck jokes.  Glass of wine, anyone?

‘Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain’.

Many blogs ago I mentioned our friend Ken Roberts who was setting off on a solo round the world cycle ride.  We’re still following Ken’s progress on www.acrosscontinents.org and his blogs are becoming more perceptive and fascinating all the time.  At the moment, on the brink of entering China, he has been visiting countries that most of us have never heard of or, if we have heard of them, have no idea where they are.   Many of them are torn apart by political corruption or civil unrest; none of them feature in holiday brochures, and most of them end in ’stan.  Through the middle of all of this pedals a lone Englishman, wrestling with visas and bureaucracy, unreadable roadsigns, unkept roads and extreme temperatures.  What it most striking, though, is not the expected obstacles that he faces, but the kindness of strangers.  Wherever he goes people feed him and ask no payment, help him out, offer hospitality.  Ken talks in his blog about the ‘many individual acts of generosity, the extent unimaginable in supposedly more developed nations ‘.  It gives you faith that humanity, one to one, has a connection and warmth that goes beyond nationality or language and belies the world view that the newspapers would have us believe, that the world outside our garden gate is a dodgy place.    Perhaps it confirms the view that life is a mirror to your attitudes; if you expect strangers to be friendly, they will be.  If you expect fear and hostility, that’s what you’ll get. 

Anyway, the blog is worth a look.  It also makes me realise how quickly we have come to take worldwide internet connection for granted; a few years ago we’d have had to make do with the occasional postcard.  It will be interesting to see how far the regular updates continue once Ken is in deepest China.

I think I become more interested in other people’s travels when my own adventures are mental rather than physical.  Yes, I’m still totally immersed in my RYA marine conservation book, which for a butterfly brain like mine is a major struggle.  More than halfway through now, just finished the chapter on coasts and beaches, so next up is rivers and lakes.  Apologies to all my facebook friends who have to put up with my regular rants when I get stuck and need to let off steam.  The next month or so will see the bulk of the work done, after which I am looking forward to a few days’ sailing, if the weather lets us and if I can remember how!   I did enjoy researching rockpools, though.  New knowledge makes you look at everything with fresh and more appreciative eyes.