Thank You, Clare & Caroline . . .

This is a long post, please bear with me. I have tweaked and updated it over the months/years.

I'm not given to self-pity, but I can truthfully say that having ME has fucked up my life (I became ill in autumn 1982 after contracting the Coxsackie B4 virus when I was a student - after over a year of illness I was diagnosed with ME by a consultant neurologist). It has been virtually impossible to establish a career. I am probably then doubly delighted that Clare Christian at The Friday Project wants to publish my novel, The State of Me, the story of how ME – 'yuppie flu', an illness few people believed in during the 80s – impacts on student Helen Fleet's world. While all her friends go on to graduate and have careers in London, she is forced to return to her parents’ home, bedridden with vile symptoms that doctors can't explain and often don't believe. She becomes a still point while life around her continues in a blur. The book is unashamedly autobiographical, but it is a novel, not a memoir, and I'm so happy that Clare responded to it as such.

I had a huge impulse to fictionalise the illness (truth comes more easily as fiction) - I consciously didn't want to add to the ME memoirs/self-help books already published (useful as they are). I hoped, through fiction, to make the subject more accessible, make it 'sexy', and most importantly, dispel the myths. There is still huge controversy and misinformation about the condition, sufferers are still marginalised, not really believed. Biomedical research in the UK is woefully under-funded. Sometimes, I feel we are the Palestinians of the medical world, our voices being ignored by those in power, those who have a vested interest in not listening, making up their own truth about us. As people with ME we have no state, we do not belong.

I'm happy to see Mischa Hiller, author of Sabra Zoo, echo the Palestinian analogy here (scroll down to Common Reader interview). It may seem like an extreme analogy but I think most people with ME would agree, especially in light of the horribly flawed recent draft NICE guideline. (This guideline was officially published in Aug 2007. A judicial review of the guideline took place in Feb 2009 at the High Court. Tragically, the case was lost. The guideline has been roundly condemned as 'unfit for purpose'.)

The narrative was in my head for a long time, it started as a (very) long short story in late nineties (I'd had some stories published and been shortlisted for a couple of short story awards over the years). I didn't think I had the stamina to write a novel, but slowly, slowly, the book emerged, the crucial thing being that I was under no pressure to write it. My illness means that no activity can be sustained, and overdoing it results in major relapse, or worsening of symptoms, to be avoided at all costs. Though exhausting, I found the process of writing the book hugely cathartic, as well as creative, and I was getting positive feedback on the quality of the writing ('clear, gorgeous prose' from one agent, who sadly had changed jobs by time the book was finished). Weeks - many weeks - could go by where I did no writing at all, it took me almost seven years, but I was determined to get the novel - and the message about ME - out there. I knew this would be impossible without an agent, and I went through the usual agonies of finding one. I can't count the number of emails I had to send out, a gruelling task, but was ecstatic to finally nab one who found the book 'compelling, charming and perfectly formed'. However, she was adamant she wanted to pitch it as a fictionalised memoir rather than a novel. She gave me time to think about it and although I was very opposed to this pitch - I knew my book was a novel not a memoir, and apart from anything else, as a reader I would find it rather odd that someone of mixed race would write a memoir that totally excised her roots - allowed myself to be seduced: agents are like gold dust and when you find one who gets your writing you don't want to let go.

She submitted straight away to the 'big' editors and publishers. Most of them greatly admired the writing (though not all, that is to be expected and fair enough).

One enjoyed 'the spiky candour and immediacy'. Another said it was an 'extraordinary memoir'. Hmm. Another said: 'She evokes the period so well - growing up in the Thatcher years, the student culture - and the love story is beautifully portrayed. She writes movingly about living with a chronic illness that is misunderstood by so many people but we are concerned that it may be tricky to publish. The best-selling 'sick lit' seems to originate from high-profile journalists writing about themselves or those close to them and this is a far more literary and subtle take on things, which makes it far harder to pitch in this competitive market, so I'm afraid it's a regretful pass...'

I was learning that it is not enough that one editor loves the writing, but that the whole marketing department has to approve it too. The agent felt she had done as much for me as she could and suggested I approach small presses on my own (sadly, most small presses now require agented submissions). This was a harsh lesson for me.

It's all so exhausting and disheartening. And contradictory. One small press told me they 'rarely get such well-crafted writing through the door', but they regretted their list was not the best platform for my book. Another I contacted had a receptionist who told me snootily 'they only considered agented submissions'. In the last year, I had stopped actively looking for a publisher - I felt so ground down by it all, the months and months of waiting to hear... it was truly becoming detrimental to my health to pursue the book any longer. I was content now just to post extracts on this blog.

Six weeks ago, I got a surprise email from Clare, asking to see the manuscript. Caroline Smailes had emailed her about my book, I was so touched by Caroline's generosity of spirit, and when Clare's email came in saying she wanted the book, I was not able to fully absorb the news as I was naturally geared up for another rejection. That she said yes was a bit of a shock - a good shock. I am thrilled. So are my family and friends. I know not everyone will like my book, that is the way of it - I often can't finish books that others love - but the point is, it will be out there, it will have the possibility of being read. So thank you, Clare, and thank you, Caroline.

Update* The Friday Project went into liquidation at the beginning of 2008. It was a dreadfully unhappy time for all concerned. Thankfully, my precious book survived - not everyone was so lucky - and crossed over to the new imprint at HarperCollins. The State of Me was finally published in August 2008. ** In early 2015, The Friday Project imprint wound down, but The State of Me continues at this time to be published by HarperCollins.