THOSE BALLET PRINCES...

Balletomane ladies, don’t tell me you’ve never fallen for one of those ballet princes. Come on, I’ve just seen a 14-page forum comparing their charms, and look at all the tweets about the in every way gorgeous Marcelo Gomes. (And my friends’ reactions on hearing that he ‘Follows’ me on Twitter – don’t worry girls, the sweetie probably just mistook my MEN DANCING novel for a technique book).  

Perhaps I’ll start the ball rolling by admitting to having checked into Acostaholics Anonymous. Well, the next best thing: I wrote a novel about a woman’s obsession with a ballet dancer – a guy who’s probably a mixture between Carlos Acosta, Rudolf Nureyev and my charismatic salsa teacher. It helped. I got over it. But then I’ve also been busy with research on flamenco artists for my second novel…

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from MEN DANCING, when my (sorry, ‘the’) character is very much at the beginning of her journey to recovery…  

He made his entrance to the usual burst of applause: all handsome Russian prince and swirling overcoat, looking mightily pleased with himself. And then he came towards us with that male ballet dancer walk that’s always both courtly elegance and potent, crotch-displaying swagger. He took his seat: legs politely arranged – unlike in the train – but at an angle that drew my eye up from the gracefully arched feet to the shapely calves, to those sculpted thighs, to the irresistibly slim, belted waist and then, uncontrollably, back down to the mystery of that bulge, where on occasion – and this was one of them – one could pick out a provocative bit of outline behind the padding.

There was a nudge from Emma, pulling a box of Maltesers from her bag; cruel, but then it was my fault for not telling her about what had happened. 

The prince’s mother arrived and was doing ring-on-finger mime about how he had to choose a bride. But he wasn’t ready to marry, and nor was the spoilt ballet prince inside of course – but at least his mother had managed to instil a sense of family. He didn’t want to miss playing baseball with his kids while flying around the world performing, he’d said in an interview, so he’d wait until he retired and then go back to Cuba and have them. Around the time I’d be contemplating the menopause.

Then the prince beamed as he prepared for his solo, defying the mothers’ plans, living for the moment, the party guests dispersing to give him centre stage. There was the pure joy of his elegant side steps to the sweeping music of the waltz, the effortless jumps and turns, the ecstatic extension of his legs in flight… then a moment where his powerful but seemingly weightless limbs lifted into a statue – perfection right to the twist of his wrist and sensitive hands. A ravishing fusion of athleticism and art, of virility and gentleness.   

http://www.cherryradford.co.uk/

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Men-Dancing-Cherry-Radford/dp/1780032021/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1326725854&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.com/Men-Dancing-Cherry-Radford/dp/1780033079/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1326725913&sr=1-1

ADTWENTURES IN TWITTERLAND

‘Twitter? I’ve got a rifle aimed…’ I emailed to my publisher. ‘It keeps saying Cannot send a message, how crap is that? Sorry, Facebook yes, but I’m just not doing this.’

An emergency meeting. An impossibly young thing from Marketing, an illustrated hand-out. Sipping tea while watching myself christened @CherryRad and assigned a ‘profile’ that would surely make the Twitterworld think I was the sassy salsera on my book cover – was that a good idea? Thanks, thanks but no thanks.

Although a flutter of interest when a handsome ballet dancer suddenly popped up and ‘followed’ me – perhaps thinking Men Dancing was a technique book. Next came a grinning fellow author woman from Texas with whom I was a perfect match with regards to genre, piano playing and chocolate. I was allowed home once I’d been seen graciously reciprocating their fan-ship.

The idea, I’d been told, was to attract Followers. Before my novel was even out. Utterly ludicrous. But I set to, feverishly clicking Follow next to every woman claiming to be an avid reader and/or Strictly Come Dancing fan. Tweets: 0, Following: 83, Followers: 7 (but including my publisher and the local pizza take-away). Occasionally pausing to reward myself with some non-productive following of top flamenco artists, marvelling at their real-time exchanges about a show or a plate of tapitas.

But I’d forgotten something. An email from Impossibly Young said well done, but now Tweet. Meaning create clever <140 character sentences designed to sell the book, you-are-a-writer-after-all. I deliberated. Pithy one-liners not a strength. Selling not a strength. I nervously put out thoughts about the usual things I bang on about – writing, Spanish, dance and chocolate.

Something happened. A host of characters started to emerge – I felt like I’d fallen down a hole and entered an extraordinary new world. Yes, people do say what they’ve had for breakfast. Yes, I’m ‘followed’ by individuals with inexplicable motives (war veterans, hot rod racers and female porn stars), and a stream of people shouting about their novel or steadily working their way through a book of quotes. Can’t like everyone; worlds are like that. But I now enjoy the company of some wonderful human beings with whom I’ve got much more in common than many of the people I call friends. They’ve taken over my instruction; questions about Retweets and #hashtags prompted a flurry of helping hands. We share our passions and humour, good days and bad. I’m now Tweets: 589, Following: 347, Followers: 400. Books Sold: who cares.  Oh, and I’m swapping languages with my favourite flamenco artist in the vaulted Direct Messaging area. #Whowouldhavethought.

WRITING’S JUST DAYDREAMS AND SELLOTAPE; AUTHORING’S ANOTHER MATTER

(Adapted from an interview for Hampton Reviews at http://hampton-networks.com)

Where are you from?

Cobham in Surrey, UK – but the bungalows in our tidy little cul-de-sac have now been replaced by footballer mansions. Brighton is my home town now; I love the pier and find my characters turn up there for important scenes. 

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

An author, of course! I was making sellotaped books at six years old. But when I was about ten my mother sent a story I’d written to Pony Weekly and I got my first rejection; it rather put me off. I switched to music and composing, and then, much later – don’t ask me why – to science… I’m now back where I started, but with someone else sticking the books together.

Tell us about MEN DANCING. And do you have anything new in the works?

MEN DANCING is the story of a married, mother-of-two scientist whose world tilts after a chance meeting with a charismatic male Royal Ballet dancer. I’d call it a darkly humorous romance.

My next novel, FLAMENCO BABY, is still at the tinkering stage. It follows a bodyclock-deafened musician who asks her gay best friend to donate sperm. When he unexpectedly declines and offers a flamenco course instead, his consolation prize changes both their lives… 

Why did you write MEN DANCING?

Like the main character Rosie, I was feverishly in love with ballet and looking for a more creative existence.

How did you come up with the title?

It was originally called The Dancer, as he’s the catalyst for everything that happens. But then I realized it was about her relationships with all of the men in her life, including her sons. In her ballet-obsessed mind she sees them as dance partners.

How did you choose your genre?

I didn’t, it chose me. I always aspired to be quite literary, given my reading tastes, but as soon as I started writing there was this flippancy that wouldn’t go away. I’ve learnt to work with it.

What inspired you to be a writer?

My daydreams; I’ve spent half my life in them. I’ve probably got ‘Maladaptive Daydreaming’, according to the net, but it’s damn useful for writing dialogue.

Who is your favourite character in your books?

I should say Emma, since I took her with me into the second novel; she’s the girlfriend that tells you when you’re talking complete crap. But I also recall being all aflutter before some of the scenes with sexy boy-man ballet dancer Alejandro…

Have you ever used contemporary events or stories “ripped from the headlines” in your work?

Headlines – no, and I’m not likely to as I never know what’s going on. But contemporary events – yes, if you count the programming at Sadler’s Wells Theatre and the Royal Opera House. Oh, and the Spanish World Cup matches that I had on the telly in FLAMENCO BABY. For both novels I put all these dates in a diary – along with school and public holidays, Spanish fiestas, music / literary festivals and any other real dates that may affect my characters’ lives. I seldom change these things; they act as a comforting constraint – stopping me sitting there staring at a blank page of countless possibilities. 

What's the weirdest thing you've ever done in the name of research?

I stalked a famous dancer’s London home for what felt like all morning but was in fact less than an hour. It was awful: scary and demeaning. And of course it rained and there was no café opposite like in the films…

Do you ever suffer from writer's block?

No. I have periods where I mull rather than actually scribble or type, but that’s part of the process.

Who is your favorite author? What books have most influenced your life?

Penelope Lively. I find her writing deliciously elegant, insightful, humorous, moving… Uh, I have one massive crush on this lady! Can’t wait to read her new novel HOW IT ALL BEGAN, out this month. But as for books that have most influenced my life… well, my own humble produce I suppose.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging about writing?

No, writing is all pleasure for me. But authoring is another matter, lots of challenges there – mastering social media, bookshop events (I’m more shy than I let on). But the worst? I can’t stand it when people ask who my characters ‘are’, and the way they assume that everything my female protagonist does is something I’ve actually done or (worse) want to do. Listen once and for all, people: it’s made up! Obviously I write about things I need to explore, but it’s like dreaming — you shouldn’t take it literally.

What tools do you feel are must-haves for writers?

A computer obviously. But also a tactile elasticated notebook you can stick a (preferably coordinating colour) pen in, with a pocket in the inside back cover for keeping a print out of your diary and last chapter. I never go anywhere without it.

What advice would you give to writers just starting out?

Skim read about five books on how to write novels, then find something you really have to write about. Mull over a plot for a few months, but don’t get too bogged down with the details – and particularly the ending – as once your characters come to life they’ll do what the hell they like with it. Then just start; there’ll never be a perfect time, so why put it off?

How did you deal with rejection letters?

Badly. Still traumatized by Pony Weekly…

HOW COME YOU'VE SUDDENLY GOT A... BOOK?

Like many people, I always thought I’d write a novel one day; I just needed to be older, wiser and a lot less busy. But a few years ago I was visited by an idea that came crashing in and didn’t care about these things – or the fact that I was supposed to be concentrating at a work conference abroad. But perhaps I’d seen it coming, because in the bag with the cures for unexpected afflictions I’d packed a little notebook-with-an-attached-pen.

      Suddenly everything other than writing was unbearably irksome. I never doubted that I’d reach the end; it wasn’t a case of hard work or self-discipline, I just had to follow the natural course of the thing. It took only six months. Elation.

      But then depression; I needed another idea, quickly. And I needed to get MEN DANCING published, so I’d have a chance of being able to afford to spend more of my week writing. So after experiences with literary consultancies that ranged from bad (don’t ask) to invaluable (Cornerstones), I bought the Writer’s Handbook and started sending submissions to literary agents.

      A lot of them. In retrospect it was crazy of me to have put myself through this so many times, but among the standard rejections there were positive remarks that kept giving me hope. Anyway, by then I had the welcome distraction of researching and starting my second novel. Then it happened: two literary agencies asked to read the full manuscript, and there were four agonizing months… and two more ‘no’s, even if one wants to read my second novel...

      I’d had enough. Sod the agents, I thought, you don’t need one for independent publishers. Although they are also neck-high in submissions… Then just when I was considering self-publishing, two independents offered to publish my novel. As I believe is common for these smaller publishers, they offered no advance but a generous percentage of the sales.
      I chose Indepenpress; I’d liked them at the London Book Fair, and by coincidence they’re based in Brighton so it’s easy for me to pop in and see them. I’ve been delighted with the friendly and helpful attention I’ve received – and their tolerance of my occasional wobbles about one thing or another. I don’t know how I would have coped with a big publisher for whom I was just an expendable Grand National horse; I’ve heard awful stories about lack of involvement in the cover design and inadequate marketing. Okay, my independent can’t afford to buy me on to the 3-for-2 table, or put up huge posters at all the London stations. But at least I’ve been involved in everything and don’t have to live with a book cover showing a male ballet dancer’s buttocks.

ANYONE FOR THE SCHOOL DANCE?

Art, Dance, Drama, Music. Spot the odd one out. Dance: the only one that isn’t a school subject. Not really. Yes, the kids do a bit in primary school and shimmy around at the school play. Yes, it’s in the senior school curriculum, although – bizarrely given that it’s an art – mainly delivered as a (small) part of PE. Then further up the school – miraculously, given its low profile up until then – it’s a GCSE subject in an increasing number of schools (although chiefly, one would imagine, for those availing themselves of extra-curricular or after-school dance). Compared to the other arts at school, Dance is still a poor relative and has a long way to go.

I was thinking about this recently when an email came from my 13-year-old son’s school music teacher showing concern with his lack of progress (meaning his refusal to sing). My other son used to struggle with Art (a minimalist with a strong hatred of crayons). Presumably there are plenty of embarrassed non-actors in drama classes. But these three subjects have stable slots in the timetable until the end of year 9, compared to the hotchpotch provision for Dance. Why?

Well, one can imagine. Despite Strictly Come Dancing, So You Think You Can Dance, hunky ballet dancer Carlos Acosta and adorable Billy Elliot, Dance is still widely seen as an art form that’s only optionally suitable for boys. Meaning talented boys. But until Dance is taken seriously as a subject for all, many children will never discover their talent, and others will miss out on developing a lifelong friend of this most primal of arts.

Art, Dance, Drama and Music. It’s time Dance put on some choose-your-own-colour slippers and went to the ball.

BACK TO (DANCE) SCHOOL - BUT WHICH?

Autumn, and then – hell’s teeth – WINTER! Three choices: leave the country, do away with myself, or somehow find a reason to carry on... Oh for God’s sake woman, just book your September dance classes. But which?

Ballet is always the first to come to mind – but unfortunately that’s where it stays. I jot down details from car window adverts, talk about doing it, tell everyone else to do it – even, for the last heaven knows how many years, get that exciting email from the English National Ballet about their Adult Ballet classes – but never actually go. Why? Perhaps it’s because I love ballet too much; trying to get anywhere with it would be like sleeping with an adored platonic friend. Oh, and there’s also the summer Frappuccino Factor: would ballet – at my level – burn off enough calories? Probably not.

Salsa will though, and apparently tones your tummy and butt too (if you put enough into it). I got up to a poor ‘Intermediate’, but took a break to try flamenco. Then I had my stupid trip accident (a severe foot sprain and fracture – something, I was chuffed to hear from A&E, that usually only happens to ballet dancers! Now I’m sure I was one in a previous life...) But I'll be back - Salsa’s fun, it’s friendly, and the slinky music thaws those winter blues...

Flamenco, however, is my dance. It’s got a soul. Probably why it doesn’t demand youth and a perfect body – even among its professionals. Why don’t more people try it? I’ll never forget my first lesson... If you’re interested in what it was like, there’s an extract from my second novel, Flamenco Baby, on my website (www.cherryradford.co.uk)!

Bailamos!