Naturally, it was a fabulous surprise to get the news that I’d won a Jerwood Fiction Uncovered Prize.  And what a brilliant prize it is.  The money (£5,000) is, of course, a lovely bonus, but what is most useful and impressive is the amount of promotion and publicity that the prize entails.  The thought that I’ll actually see my book in shop windows again is a tremendous boost.  I have often had complaints from readers who have found it hard to find my books in shops, and in some cases even know that I have a new novel out, so this promotion and publicity will be a marvellous advantage.

The idea of a prize that is not directed towards existing best sellers or new literary sensations but focuses on ‘emerging and deserving’ British writers, including those who have become overlooked, often in mid-career, casts a fantastic shaft of light into what has become for some of us rather a murky landscape.  I admire too the egalitarian nature of the prize, by which £40,000 is shared between eight writers.  We can all therefore enjoy the prize ceremony without too much anxiety, jockeying or potential disappointment, and feel glad for and interested in each other.  It’s particularly refreshing that this prize that is directed solely towards British writers – and many of us will be seriously grateful for this focus.

Like many mid-list authors, I’ve found my fortunes slipping in the past few years, abandoned by my mainstream publisher for not selling enough copies, out of fashion (though with a loyal and puzzled readership), out on a limb, just generally out.  Although sad and let-down, of course, I found myself in such good company in this fix, that I have been able not to take it entirely personally.  Rather than give up, I decided instead to try and find some sort of advantage in my change of circumstances and have achieved this in two ways.

Firstly, I directed more of my energy towards the teaching of writing. (I am well aware of the irony in teaching people to do the thing I have been failing to make a living from!)  I have usually accompanied my writing with some teaching, but I took on more, first becoming Writer in Residence at the University of Edinburgh for three years and then taking a half-time post at the University of St Andrews.   I think of this as a way of working to pay myself to write. Becoming a professional person in the world, with colleagues and a pigeon-hole with my name on it, rather than someone creeping around in ink-stained pyjamas has actually been quite life-enhancing (although half-time is enough and I still employ the pyjamas.)

Secondly, I decided to see the ‘sacking’ as a form of freedom in terms of my writing.  For the last few books with my main-stream publisher I had felt a subtle pressure to write something a bit different, to move away from my own style of gothic, darkly humorous novels towards something approaching the psychological thriller, with more ‘normal’ characters (this last was actual advice).  In other words, to write something more marketable.  Being dropped meant I could stick two metaphorical fingers up and write exactly what I wanted, just as I had when I first started writing.  And this rather exhilarating freedom enabled me to return to Little Egypt, a book I’d been struggling with for years for several reasons, important amongst which was a suspicion that my publisher wouldn’t like it.  So, set free, I wrote just what the hell I wanted, just the way I wanted to and sent it to my agent not expecting very much.

I am excited by the way independent publishers are springing up all around, publishing not just new authors but also scooping up many of the floundering mid-listers.    I wonder if it isn’t actually easier to get published now than it used to be when the big publishers more or less held a monopoly?  Of course, being published – and marketed – well is vital and I dare say there are some weak independents too.  What’s so lovely about the best of these (sometimes) tiny operations though is that they have ventured into publishing out of a genuine love and care about books and writers, something that has perhaps been forgotten in some major publishing houses where share price and profits seem to have become the main driving force.  (Not that small publishers don’t want to make a profit too, of course, and so they should.)

I was lucky enough to have my previous novel, Chosen, published by the wonderful Tindal Street Press, now subsumed into Profile; and Little Egypt taken on by Salt, who are an absolutely perfect publisher in my eyes.  Never have I felt so involved in the whole process not just of editing, but of being consulted at every stage of decision making and design.

Salt have made a wonderful job of Little Egypt and I am as delighted for them that I’ve been honoured with a Jerwood Prize, as I am for myself.   I am part way into a new novel now, and the prize has given me a surge in confidence as well as in funds, so that I can’t wait to get back to writing just what I want, just the way I want to.