Trailing males and going native: The books at the back of my drawer

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when.

I was quite a sceptical youth. As a teenage actor in the 1988 York Mystery Plays I remember talking to the director, the late and much lamented Steven Pimlott, about the part that coincidence played in life. He felt there was more to it than simple chance, my 18-year-old self was cockily sure there was not.

I was also very cynical about all those writers who claimed to have books at the back of their desk drawer. Bah, I would mutter to myself, humbug. But just as Steven predicted that 30 years later I might have changed my tune about how, as Patti Smith puts it, paths that cross will cross again I have also come to understand how you can have thousands of words just kicking around, rather unwanted, towards the rear of your furniture compartments. Here are some of my projects that have failed to launch.

Trailing Males

I lived and worked as a journalist in Madrid from 1998 to 2002. I heartily enjoyed it, but I moved there because of my wife’s work not mine. I became involved not so much in the local expatriate community but in the broader worldwide one which, as the internet was just starting to take off, was making the most of sharing knowledge about living and working in unfamiliar cultures. At that time, most people who moved abroad for their partner’s jobs were women. But there was a small and growing number of men like me who also did so.

Robin Pascoe, an expert on the expatriate experience who had written several books and ran her own niche independent publishing company Expatriate Press, got in touch in June 2000 to ask if I’d like to write something about my own story as a ‘trailing male’ as well as looking at the wider phenomenon and talking to others in the same boat. I was absolutely delighted – at this stage I’d never written a book before – said yes please, and got to work.

Without boring you with the sordid details, a couple of months into the project the publisher and I then had a disagreement about the contract. So substantial a disagreement in fact that we parted ways, not very amicably (though a few years ago we patched it up, so that’s nice). But the result is that I’ve got about 30,000 words on the subject that I’m fairly sure will never see the light of day. Which would be a pity, if for no other reason than the world deserves to know more about the marvellously-name Brussels-based lunch club STUDS (Spouses Trailing Under Duress Successfully).

Going Native

When we moved back to the UK from Madrid, I started work on a new book called Going Native. Here’s an extract from the pitch:

Going Native follows Alex Johnson’s personal quest to get to grips with Spanish from clueless beginner, through his addiction to cheesy South American soap operas, to the day he realised he could nearly understand what Spaniards were saying on the radio.

As well as essential reading for anybody struggling to learn a second language, this unique journey will satisfy all those interested in Spain who have driven over lemons and want to delve deeper into what really makes the country tick and the words which keep it ticking. From the urban loneliness of losing his language to the dramatic birth of his first child in a Madrid hospital run by nuns, as his Spanish improves and his comfort foods mutate (from Marmite on toast to deep fried batter dipped in thick hot chocolate), Alex slowly realises that he is becoming an ‘inbetween’ person, one who still tells waiters the food was fine when it was terrible but then swears about it in a different language.

Once finished, I armed myself as everybody suggests with the Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook and sent it to virtually all the agents listed. To their credit, over the next 12 months nearly all of them replied, some of them with useful advice which was much appreciated. One came very close to taking it on. Then didn’t.

I still think it’s pretty good but suspect now it will only get read by my children.

Mindfulness for Homeworkers

As lockdown hit, I suggested to one of my publishers that this was a ripe time to write something about how to make the most of working from home. They loved the idea, and we agreed that I would write it quickly, in less than a month, 25,000 words, 100 colour illustrations, 144 pages, retailing at £12.99/$17.99, flexi binding (the grey area between hardback and paperback). The working title was How to Work From Home: And Curate a Lifestyle That Works for You and sections were to include. It was quite far down the line – it even had a Project ID number – before the sales team got cold feet and it got biffed on the head. Although I’d mapped out the sections (Create Your Own Workspace, Curate Your Work Day, Break Traditional Moulds, Make The Most Of Your Downtime, Case Study Success Stories), I hadn’t yet written a word. It could be resuscitated, though I’ve no plans to do so as things stand.

Work From Shed

After the first two attempts ended in non-success, my first book ended up being Shedworking: The Alternative Workplace Revolution published in 2010. Now out of print, it was not only well reviewed but also sold well, and what with lockdown and all, I felt it was time to resurrect the concept and bring out a fresh look at what had changed in the intervening decade, with particular emphasis on the architectural look of garden offices. I pitched it to a publisher who had a long think, then their sales folk decided against. But a few months later the sales people wondered if there was still life in the old dog yet and asked for a fuller proposal. I got all excited and thought that, on the basis they were coming back to me, it was an almost certain slam dunk banker. And the motto is, never count your eggs before you’ve signed the contract because they then, very politely, decided not to proceed.

I was obviously a bit disappointed, but then rather relieved when about two months later a separate publisher, the excellent Hoxton Mini Press, brought out Work From Shed. This was EXACTLY the book I had pitched so it would have been hugely embarrassing/stressful to have started the book only to find out halfway through that I had been pipped at the post. The other consolation is that Work From Shed is a really good book and I strongly recommend it.

What I read last week: Flashman and the Dragon by George MacDonald Fraser. I love the series but this is not one of the best, though as always it illuminated an episode in 19th century history of which I knew very little.

What I’m reading this week: Poet’s Pub by Eric Linklater. As expected, it’s pretty light stuff but none the worse for that and rather enjoyable.

What I’m planning to read next week: Probably Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson in the colourful Persephone Classics edition.