Travelling for Research – Is it just a holiday?

In my work as a content writer, being able to write about things just relying on research, scrolling through websites, mining forums for information, is necessary.

But writing for books is slightly different, as I found on when I started writing book 2 in the martini club series. All the previous books that I’ve set abroad have been based on places I’ve already visited. Finding out about Ischia, the island Prosecco and Promises is set on, was easy enough using the internet (how did anyone manage to research before the internet?!). However, whilst I could find out practical questions – where does the ferry come into, how many bars are on the strip, what’s the beach like – the questions I needed to know were the ones that would build a believable, wonderful world in a book. The things I love to know – what does the air smell like, who lives there, what do they have to say about it? What does the ocean sound like standing at the port, the feet on cobblestones, the voices in the square? Is there music? Is it sleepy, quiet, comfortable?

I’ve realised the thing that makes me a storyteller is the fact that I’m curious. Or nosey. Take your pick. I want to collect up stranger’s stories and put them down in pen. The way the waiter winks as you walk past, the story the receptionist is telling her friend at the hotel, the American tourists who tell you about the gardens they visited yesterday, how the birds sang and the marble shone in the sunlight?

Those, to me, are the things that make a book sing. I should probably be more concerned about whether there was car parking at the port, or how long the flight is, or if there’s a particular type of shop in the promenade. But it’s the human stories that draw me to a place.

So I’ll be in Italy this week, and I’m excited to really add that vibrancy and life of the island to the book, as well as supporting the industries on Ischia, after the earthquake they suffered a couple of weeks ago.

How do you feel about on-site research? Do you think it’s necessary, or can you make do without? Do you write about places you’ve been to?


Top Five Places for a Cocktail in London

So, writing Cocktails and Dreams meant a lot of research *cough*drinking*cough.

And now, I’m glad that I did that research. Partly because I don’t have to drink any more cocktails for a while, but also because I can now bring you…

A L Michael’s Official Best Cocktails in London List

  1. Cahoots

This is one of my favourite places ever. Underneath Kingly Court, I think I’ve walked past it so many times. It’s hidden away, and when you arrive you need to ask for the captain. It’s a lot of ‘what ho’s and vintage gorgeousness. The snacks are all wartime nostalgia treats – fishfinger sandwich anyone?- and the drinks are named after film stars. I can’t wait to go back for one of their swing nights.


2. Tonight, Josephine

I went here to celebrate the launch of Cocktails and Dreams, and I couldn’t have picked a better place. Neon, snappy cocktails and a white and black checked floor, along with a mirrored ceiling – it’s vampy, friendly and the cocktails are interesting. The only thing that could improve it is bar snacks.



3. Radio Rooftop Bar

Definitely one for the summer. Beautiful views, beautiful people, and some damn trippy dark mirrored bathrooms. Typical London prices, but there’s nowhere better to laze on a rooftop.


4. The Ivy City Garden

Just outside Liverpool Street is an oasis, but inside. Lots of leafy plants, funky pictures of animals and some effin’ delicious cocktails. All very classy and classic with a twist of fun and flirty. Plus, the food is amazing.

5. The Alchemist

Can’t leave The Alchemist off the list. It’s an unbelievable mixologist’s dream. I love a theme, and The Alchemist follows through with the science-y vibe. The cocktail menu is a periodic table, and everything is designed to delight and surprise, from the drinks served in test tubes and conicals, to the ones that change colour halfway through drinking them. Makes you clap and cheer like a child.




9 Things I’ve Learnt by Writing 9 Books

I like number nine. It’s got something a bit sassy about it. Which is why I’m glad Cocktails and Dreams was my ninth book. I’ve written nine books in five years, and the more I think about that, the more insane it is. And I’m in a completely different place to where I was even a couple of years ago.

So I thought I’d take a few moments to reflect on what I’ve learnt:

  • No matter how many books you write, you are always going to have those moments where you are insanely certain that you are the worst writer in the history of the world.
  • It’s not enough to work on your craft, you’ve got to do your research on the industry – listen to podcasts, read the bookseller, keep an eye on what’s selling and what’s not.
  • Surround yourself with positive people – find your tribe. People who tear you down, who constantly try to one-up, brag about their work or trample your wins are not your friends. Not everyone will get ‘it’ and that’s okay. But the ones who try to understand, or support you even when they don’t understand, keep them close.
  • Don’t limit yourself – when it starts to feel stale, deviate, explore and play. No one writes the same book 40 times. You’re going to grow. The things you never thought you’d ever want to write, or be capable of writing, might just surprise you.
  • Know that you shouldn’t compare yourself to other writers. You’re going to do it anyway, but know that you shouldn’t.
  • Think bigger, and long term. Don’t be the fool who takes a thousand pound payout compared to a lifetime of trickling royalties. This is a career. Keep your rights, think about what you can do with them. Look after your pieces of the pie, don’t just sign the first contract that comes along.
  • Stay hungry. Dream big. It’s not a conveyor belt. Don’t do the same thing a hundred times. Learn new marketing techniques, try new things. Growing and changing as a writer is one thing. Growing and changing as your marketing exec is just as important.
  • Be a listener, a collaborator, a reader. Give to receive. Be part of the community. Don’t expect people to give a shit about your work when you don’t give a shit about them.
  • Think about value – think about what you’re offering to readers, not what they can offer you. So often we just consistently call for people to buy our books. Instead, think about what you’re offering them. Maybe it’s not just a good story. Maybe it’s a friendly interaction on Twitter, or a response to their review. Maybe it’s a blog post that might help a writer earlier on in their career.







Adjusting your Goals for Growth…Or ‘Making Wishes for my Book Baby’

I have never asked a new mother if she’s done this, but I imagine I might:

I visualise a quiet, dark house, sitting cradling my baby, exhausted and overwhelmed. And I imagine making wishes for that baby. That they will be happy, and confident, and know they are loved. That they will grow up in a world that has an NHS, and acceptance, and creativity. That there will still be trees and parks and a way to grow up that doesn’t involve receiving some sort of Wi-Fi tracking chip in the back of the neck.

And I wonder if we make these wishes for everything we create. The things we bring to life, we wish them well as they make their way in the world, suddenly separate from us.

My ninth novel, Cocktails and Dreams, was released this week.


For a long time, I didn’t have any goals for my books. Or rather, they were the same ones: maybe it’ll be a bestseller, maybe it’ll sell well and become a paperback and I’ll see it in WhSmiths when I’m at the airport and then I can be a full time writer and be a success!

Parents will tell you how dangerous it is to pin all your hopes and dreams on one kid. It’s not fair on them, and they don’t get to grow in their own way. And you know, obviously I realise books aren’t actually babies.

This book, I have set up as best I can in life – she had a wonderful editor, and a beautiful cover. She’s had a whole load of support from a publishing team. She’s got a blog tour, and people are starting to know who she is. I gave her my best, and I hope people like her.

But you can’t assume a book will be ‘the one’ any more than you can decide you’ve hit 35 and it’s about damn time ‘the one’ came along. Because sometimes there is no ‘one’.

So here’s what I wish for you, Cocktails and Dreams:

  • I hope people are fair in their criticisms, and you don’t get any one star Amazon reviews because people couldn’t open the document properly.
  • I hope you get 100 reviews, because that would be cool and you’d be more impressive than all your sisters.
  • I hope no one uses a gif on Goodreads to tell you how crap you are and that they hope your mother never writes again.
  • I hope you hang around the top hundred in the charts, because there’s some damn cool people hanging around that spot, and I will take loads of pictures of you hanging out with them.
  • I hope people are excited to meet your siblings, because book number nine will be joining you in February. Don’t get jealous now. I love you all equally.




Narrative Therapy Techniques, and how they can improve your writing.

From the minute I started studying how creative writing could be therapeutic, I became interested in narrative therapy. It makes sense, right? Narrative is about the creation of a story, the order of events that leads us to a conclusion.

Narrative therapy is really useful at encouraging you to look at moments in your life in detail, considering why you picked that memory, why you used certain words and phrases, and what those choices might say about you. It’s also great for encouraging empathy, and opening up different ways of viewing a situation.

When I heard about narrative therapy, about activities like titling and organising the chapters of your autobiography, or putting different definitive events in your life in order, I became obsessed with the concept of truth.

Here’s the problem:

My father recalls sitting in the first row when I played Joseph in Joseph and The Technicolour Dreamcoat when I was nine, and he remembers that he was fifteen minutes late because he got stuck helping an old lady change her tyre on the A41. He remembers how proud of me he was.


I remember playing the angel in Joseph and the Technicolour Dreamcoat, when I was eleven, because that was the same year Natalie moved away and I was left without a best friend for a few months. I remember he sat in the third row because I couldn’t see him at the beginning, and he was sat behind a lady with really big hair. I remember forgetting one of my lines and that my halo was crooked.

Who’s right? Who’s memory is correct?

Whilst it’s something I probably won’t get a clear answer to, with memories being so malleable and changeable, the truth isn’t really the point. People’s narratives say something about how they see themselves. The things we put into a story, and the things we leave out, define how we want to be seen. Some people define their narratives by places they’ve been, the bad things that have happened to them, the successes they’ve achieved. In this way, it’s almost a self fulfilling prophecy. If you ask me who I am, and I tell you three stories about how I’m a clumsy failure who keeps messing stuff up, I’m determining my narrative, and how you see me.

We create our own narratives. We create our world through detail.

In narrative therapy, adding these details is called thickening. It’s adding texture to a memory. So you might stand up at a wedding and tell a funny story about how Phil got lost in Amsterdam, but you’d skim the details, you’d keep in the funny stuff. You’d adapt it to your audience, and remove some of the details that were a little more morally ambiguous. However, if I asked you about getting lost in the shopping centre when you were five, you might simply say, ‘I remembered looking around for my mother and feeling really scared.’

A narrative therapist would ask for details to thicken the narrative, and access the memory. Where were you? How old were you? What shop were you in? Was it the first time you’d been lost? What were you wearing? What could you hear? What did you see? Who did you talk to? What happened, point by point, until the situation was resolved?

In writing novels and stories, narrative is often about pacing and movement – it’s about keeping the story going. It’s about structure. And yet, using thickening techniques can really add a fullness, add texture to your characters and your stories.

Do it now with your own memory – a moment you were disappointed, elated, running late, made a fool of yourself. You will remember a moment, but it’s when you search for the details, the context, that you start to remember more clearly, and get a fuller picture. Not only that, but what you’ve revealed in that moment will tell you something about yourself.

You might not want to do this directly in your writing. It doesn’t suit everyone’s style, and some readers don’t want all that detail. They just want to know your character was lost in the supermarket aged four, and how that relates to who they are now, and their actions. They might not want to know that it was a dark day in October, that she was wearing a red dress with white stars and that her mother had lost her three times already that month. That she knew the security guard by name, and that he had given her a pack of white chocolate buttons.

But they might want to know that. It’s visual. It’s real. And maybe it’s relevant, I don’t know, it’s your story. But this narrative thickening, these details and relentless questioning of a character’s memory and perspective can be really useful to you. Sometimes the writer needs to know these details, even if the reader doesn’t.


Valuing alternative narratives: How to be a positive member of the writing community.

It’s the one thing that is asked time and again – ‘Tell us your journey to publication.’

Partly, we like the story of the author to be as interesting as the story they sell us. I always worried I was too boring to be an author. There was nothing tremendous or particularly special about me, except that I could spin stories on a page. I am not particularly adept at doing it in real life, or in conversation.

But the main reason we ask, is because we want to replicate the effect. We want to know the nitty gritty, the exact thing they did. Sometimes, an element of it will be relevant to us, but most of the time it won’t.

Another element is that we want to know that someone does things the same way we do. We want to be classified as traditional or indie, with agent or independent, plotter or pantser. We create boxes for ourselves, because all of us, at all stages of our journey, at one time or another, struggle with legitimacy.

We each want to be a ‘real’ author – so we look for the markers in others to determine what that means. Then we look to ‘successful’ authors to see what they’re doing.

The thing is, success looks different on everyone. And so does the route heading towards it. Back at the beginning of my journey, I would look at authors where I am now with envy. Now, I turn my head towards the next goals – higher sales, different defining factors of success.

What we need to remember, as members of this community, is that everyone’s story and journey is different, but that does not mean it is not as valid. Those with agents are not more talented, and may not necessarily achieve as much with an agent. Those in professional groups or with memberships and affiliations are not more professional than others. Those with traditional publishing deals are not necessarily at an advantage over those who self publish.

Each journey has its ups and downs, its forks in the roads, and if being part of this community has taught me anything, it’s been the comforting realisation that there is no one right way.

But this is a job where egos are delicate and fragile, where the dismissal of one author can shatter and break belief in your journey. Where being made to feel that if you don’t have an agent, a big name publisher, big sales, consistent income, five star reviews….you’re not doing well.

The thing to remember is your goals, and to stay in your lane. Define success for yourself, and with each book, aim to improve, and beat your own goals, rather than competing with other authors. You have a unique voice, and a unique story, and the best way to be part of the community is to share that without judgement, and celebrate others’ stories without judgement as well.

There is room enough for everyone who has a story to tell, and we are all doing brilliantly.


What is your favourite thing about the



Interview With a Bartender – Oscar

In researching my new book Cocktails and Dreams, I focused on what bartenders go through every night. I worked in a pub, where I was only ever taught to make one (disgusting) cocktail, so I don’t have much experience in this area. What I do have experience in is sitting in cocktail bars, watching people.

Cocktail bartenders have to hold a wealth of information, dozens of recipes in their heads whilst serving multiple people, answering questions and making the drink with flare! The balance of flavours and presentation of the drink are key.

For the next couple of weeks Interview With a Bartender is a Friday feature on my blog. I would love to hear what your favourite cocktails are, and if you agree with the bartender!

Welcome to Oscar, a bartender in London.

What’s your favourite drink to make?

My favourite drinks to make are any kind of sours, I find the wet and dry shake and additional complexity adds to the theatre and suspense of the drink the customers waiting for.

What’s your least favourite?

My least favourite has to be Cuba Libre…. how it’s classed as a cocktail I do not know!

What’s the best thing about your job?

The best thing about my job is seeing the intrigue in customers’ faces while they watch their drink being prepared, answering questions and giving tips that help people find and hopefully replicate their perfect drink.

What’s the most surprising thing about your job?

I was surprised at how unsociable the job can feel at times. Although on the clock I’m constantly talking with new people, I am still in work mode. Working 99% of the times when the public (including your friends) go out can be tricky!

If you were a cocktail, which one would you be?

I would be a Mai Tai.. Punchy, sweet, crisp and exotic !

So what do you guys think – should a Cuba Libre be classed as a cocktail? What cocktail would you be?


Work In Progress Sneak Peak

Creatively, this year has been a departure from the norm. I’ve got a new publisher, and my writing is growing, maturing, and (I hope) improving.

But even stranger, I’m moving into new genres. I’m working on a thriller under a pseudonym, which I’m hoping to get done soon, I’m moving into self publishing with the Ruby Tuesday novellas, and I’m working on what I call my ‘secret project’.

So I thought I’d share a little chunk of it here. It might be the opening, it might be featured later, it might not end up in it at all. But I’m very, VERY excited. And I’d love to hear what you think.

Sneak Peak!.png

She was born on the back of an easterly wind, strong and insistent, on the longest day of the year. A child born on a solstice was magical enough, at least to those who honoured the old gods, but one born at three am, on the longest day? A child come at witching hour to bid farewell to the sunshine.

The elders of the town did not like that at all.

Father O’Connor liked it even less. He paid no mind to solstices and stone circles. It was that baby, born out of wedlock, to a mother who did not avert her eyes when he looked at her. That was what drove him to an intoxicating sort of madness.

Aoife Grace had long been a woman who vexed him, with that obstinate chin and that long dark hair, always falling over her face. She never bowed her head, never even attempted meekness or humility. She never said anything, just watched him watch her as her belly grew, and grew. She took pride in nourishing this life that was doomed to be sinful. She loved to wave it in his face, this flagrant disregard for his faith.

And still, she came, sitting in church every Sunday, even as her ankles swelled and her stomach heaved. She sat in the back row and watched him, and he knew she must be tearing apart each sermon, dismissing the words of God as he spoke.

Every Sunday, until that baby was born.

She came into the world in silence, no screams or cries. The midwife was concerned, but Aoife looked at her daughter and knew she was an old soul in a new body. She kissed her forehead, and looked into those dizzying, strange eyes, one green, one blue.

‘I will protect you, I will love you, I will give you my life. This is my vow.’

The baby gurgled and blinked, as babies do. People visited, as Aoife was young and pretty, and they wanted gossip as much as anything else. They commented on her unusual eyes, her strange stillness, that feeling that even though she was a baby, she understood what they were saying. It disturbed them, and they made their excuses, muttering to themselves that Father O’Connor must be right, and the child must surely be the devil’s daughter.

Or, put more simply:

On a sunny morning, in a tiny rural village in Ireland, Fionualla Grace was born.


Writing a Multiple Character Driven Novel, with Emily Benet

I was lucky enough to meet Emily a couple of years ago now, as part of the Finchley Literary Festival, and she’s doing amazing things with her books.

I caught up with her to hear more about her new novel, The Hen Party:


I’m a huge fan of the book Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty. It’s sharp, clever, funny and fast-paced. I’ve read it about five times. I’ve dissected it with coloured pencils, trying to understand how she so successfully knits together those three main characters and all those other entertaining voices captured purely in dialogue.
I love books written from the perspective of more than one character. Deborah Moggach does it really well too and my copy of Heartbreak Hotel is full of underlining and scribbles in the margin. After writing three books, Shop Girl Diaries, The Temp and #PleaseRetweet in the first person, I was determined to write a novel told from the point of view of more than one character.
I wanted the book to begin with a mystery and for each character to know a different part of the story. I also wanted a story set in Mallorca, because I had just moved there and I was besotted. Multiple characters in a popular holiday destination… aha, I thought, what about a hen party?

What about a hen party reality show?

…which goes missing!

The Hen Party starts with a director who has lost all the hens and goes back and forward in time revealing what happened. It was a challenge to write and I started it three times. I was determined for it not to be too soppy or cliché. I really wanted the story to be intriguing. Once I had the plot sorted, I ended up rewriting the characters to make them stronger, so they would stand out from each other.
The novel follows five hens and a director, so it’s important they all have different personalities and agendas. I used a colour-coded spreadsheet to help me coordinate the chapters. I used to stick strips of paper on a wall, but now I find spreadsheets more reliable.
Although I have finished The Hen Party I definitely haven’t finished with the multi-character driven novel. For my next book I’m already exploring an idea which focuses on a number of characters, all neighbours, responding to a crisis in their different ways. It’s going to be a challenge but that’s fine by me if it means I get better at my craft.
The Hen Party is a little different from my other books but my stamp is still clearly on it. It has moments of comedy and romance and hopefully enough drama to keep you turning those pages!
Book Blurb
Film Director, Kate Miller, is in serious trouble.  The entire cast and crew of the reality TV show The Hen Party has gone missing while filming in Mallorca.

To make matters worse, the network boss is flying in to check up on her production.

Kate thinks it’s all her fault. She hasn’t exactly been following the guidelines.

But if she is to blame, why were the hens arguing between themselves? And why is the groom-to-be calling her up in tears?

Kate doesn’t know the half of it. The hens have their own secrets and it’s only matter of time before they all come tumbling out.

A party of eight arrive on the island, but not everyone’s going home.



The Hen Party is Emily Benet’s 4th book. Her debut book, Shop Girl Diaries, began as a blog. Her second, Spray Painted Bananas, racked up a million hits on the online platform Wattpad and led to a 2 book deal with Harper Collins. They published her Wattpad book under the new title The Temp as well as her comedy about social media addiction, #PleaseRetweet. She lives in Mallorca with her husband and writes for abcMallorca magazine.

Universal book link for The Hen Party https://books2read.com/u/b5Oyq7
Website http://www.emilybenet.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/EmilyBenetAuthor
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/@EmilyBenet


‘Grow a Thicker Skin’: The most irritatingly true piece of advice to authors?

Dealing with bad reviews as a writer is part of the job. Anyone who thought they were going to write something beloved by millions with no criticism is the same person who expected to retire on the royalties from their debut.

But the only piece of advice we have for authors dealing with bad feedback is: Grow a thicker skin. And it’s true – you can’t let every one star ‘boring’ ‘didn’t care’ ‘is this author an idiot?’ comment stop you from achieving your purpose. You’re there to write stories, and more than ever, we live in a world where social media gives people the right to say whatever the hell they want from the safety of their keyboard.

There are a few tips writer friends have given, and a few I use when dealing with the low feelings when you get bad reviews:

  • Firstly, don’t go looking for them! Every author knows Goodreads is the place where lower ratings and bad reviews thrive. Goodreads, in many ways, is for readers, not authors. Don’t punish yourself!
  • Go and look at the bad reviews of your favourite authors – it reminds you that we’re all in this together.
  • Rant about the hilariously bad/mean reviews with your writer friends – again, you’re part of a community of which this is a standard experience.
  • Look at your good reviews, or the positive emails. I’ll always remember one review I had where the person said they were in hospital whilst their dad was ill, and reading my book helped them take their mind off it, and even laugh a couple of times. That has stayed with me and nourished me even as the negative reviews try to chip away.
  • Remember those times where you’ve read a book that just wasn’t for you – it’s not personal, it’s just taste. I’ve read books that everything about them was great, and I should have enjoyed them, but I didn’t. I, like most authors (I assume), I don’t write bad reviews – if I don’t like the book I don’t review it. Let the people who love something spread the word. If I didn’t like it, I’m not going to waste time pulling down something someone else has worked on. The same way I don’t walk into my friend’s home and tell them how much I hate their new kitchen.


But what happens when growing a thicker skin isn’t enough?

I kind of thought I had my whole ‘responding to criticism’ thing sorted – I know how to deal with feedback, bad reviews and I avoid Goodreads like the plague. I have a whole self care system in place for if I need to deal with bad feedback.

But sometimes, we are sensitive, soft beings, and however thick your skin is, a punch in the gut is a punch in the gut. If you’ve worked hard on something, spent your time and energy and passion pouring into something, only to have it rejected and dismissed or vilified – it’s going to have an effect. Humans with thick skins are still humans, and telling writers to ‘just grow a thicker skin and get over it’ sometimes doesn’t work.

I am in a phase right now where I’m looking at the book I was once proud of with a sort of shame, where I don’t really want to look at it. I’m trying to focus on my other books, I am desperately trying to write enough to get me going full time, and even though I’m driven and determined, I’ve stalled. Every time I try to write, it’s like pressing a bruise. I’m still doing it, I’m retaining my thicker skin and trying not to let it stop me, but that thick skin has been a little bruised and scarred.

But perhaps that’s how we thicken our skin – with scar tissue. Every setback and failure and rejection, every dismissive word and angry response – that is what builds thick skin. It’s not just pulling on a coat to protect you from the world, or turning out the light so you can’t see them – it is moving forwards, step by sluggish step, sometimes skipping, sometimes dragging a boulder behind you.

At times like this, I freewrite about my ‘why’. Why do I write? What keeps me writing? What could stop me? And it’s this last question that gets me, because without even pausing – nothing could stop me from writing. It’s my therapy, my creativity, my escape, a dominant part of who I am.

So telling authors to have a thick skin is, unfortunately, still the correct advice. It’s a hard world out there, and putting something creative into the world feels like putting something vulnerable and soft into a harsh space. It feels like hanging your poor, soft heart out on a ledge and seeing if people squeeze and poke it. But hearts are strong – they’re muscle, and whilst you feel those squeezes and pokes and bruises, you are becoming stronger and more determined.

You have a reason for writing, and when you put your work out into the world, you are a warrior, someone brave and strong. Protect yourself, look after yourself and remember that every bruise and scar you feel is your skin thickening, until, one day, you won’t feel those bruises at all.

Protect your why and keep on writing.