A day that began with a Prime Minister, ended with Bridget Jones...

...and why all roads lead to Cathy Rentzenbrink

Jun 13, 2024

The Women’s Prize

One of the best things about what I now call my ‘job’ as a writer, is going to literary events, and yesterday I had the chance to attend what has become a firm annual highlight. I first visited the Women’s Prize for Fiction (Live) last year, and found myself in ‘fan girl’ heaven. The Women’s Prize itself is a charity founded by author Kate Mosse, with the aim of enriching society ‘by creating equitable opportunities for women in the world of books and beyond’.

“As a registered charity, we improve access to and appreciation of women’s writing for all readers, providing an awards platform that champions brilliant women writers and role models while nurturing a supportive, global community of readers and writers.”

When I attended in 2023 it was as a hopeful new author, drenched in imposter syndrome, whose debut book Breaking Waves was ‘on submission’ - i.e. being touted around publishers by my agent in the hope of being picked up. Not being one to sit on my hands (which you have to do a LOT of whilst you are ‘on submission’), I had brought up some gift wrapped copies of my home printed totally un-edited book to foist upon authors and personalities I respect and admire, in the hope that one might land in the right place at the right time and perhaps help me on my way…

I gibbered embarrassingly at Kate Mosse, the founder and director of the Women’s Prize, who is smart, funny, monumentally impressive and faintly terrifying. I was far too scared to give her my book. I was mesmerised by Elif Shafak – a woman who emanates an almost transcendental aura of warmth and beauty – as we bonded briefly over our mothers; however star-struck paralysis prevented me from gifting her anything. I had the most wonderful but all too brief conversation on an outdoor sofa with Cathy Rentzenbrink. Now there’s someone I wanted to be new best friends with. I even managed to be brave enough to offer her my book along with a note I’d handwritten, so connected did I feel to her story.

I read Cathy’s devastatingly poignant book ‘The Last Act of Love’ several years ago about the tragic death of her brother after a lengthy period in a permanent vegetative state, and at the Women’s Prize event I purchased her (then) current book ‘How to Feel Better’. I did gift Cathy a copy of my book, centred as it is on my own brother’s death and also in acknowledgement of our mutual love of the open water, but in an act of empathy and understanding rather than ‘please read and review’. I tried to buy her a cup of tea in the hope of prolonging our conversation, but she had to go, although one day perhaps I will get the opportunity to buy her tea again. She came across as a truly wonderful and warm person, and someone you can just sense is a bloody good friend. She swims outdoors…and drinks tea… What’s not to love.

I spent the rest of that day meeting other brilliant women, supporting their writing, buying their books and feeling wholly uplifted by this incredible community that made me feel included, welcome and distinctly hopeful even whilst I resided on the outermost periphery. And so it was that Cathy Rentzenbrink, Nadiya Hussain, Annie McManus and Louise Minchin all went home clutching a ‘super first edition’ of Breaking Waves – a book that they all graciously received but quite possibly left on a train somewhere - who knows? I figured it would land where it was meant to land.

As I returned home, I wrote copious notes on the wonders of the day in a notebook, including gems such as the favourite books of all the shortlisted finalists which in 2023 comprised: Maggie O’Farrell, Priscilla Morris, Jacqueline Crooks, Laline Paull, Barbara Kingsolver and Louise Kennedy. My burgeoning narrative was going to become a world class analysis on the contemporary nature of literary fiction and what it means to be a modern heroine. When Barbara Kingsolver was announced as the winner of The Women’s Prize 2023 with Demon Copperhead, my piece evolved from heroine through heroin into a Pulitzer Prize worthy essay on the US opioid crisis. My literary future and reputation sealed; the home printed copies of Breaking Waves becoming priceless collectors’ items. Predictably, however, I promptly lost the notebook and all my notes in the chaos of my daily life, the article never happened, and so for now, the Pulitzer will have to wait.

Moving inwards

Fast forward a year, and I am now an author with a publisher and my own book is coming out soon. (Available for pre-order in September). It’s amazing to reflect on what can happen in a year. Imposter syndrome slowly beginning to reduce as I shout: ‘look Geppetto! I’m a real author!!’…with a real book that is actually going to exist somewhere in the world. How strange. So this time as I headed to the Women’s Prize Live, I had no gift-wrapped books to rugby tackle people with, but I did hope to network, and perhaps make a few requests to see if anyone would be willing to receive what is known as an ‘Advance Reader Copy’ (ARC) - i.e. a ‘proof’ copy that is given to journalists/authors in the hope that they may proffer some ‘book jacket’ worthy reviews. My delight at learning my first new three letter acronym since I left my air traffic career could barely be surpassed…and then I got an email from my publisher with my cover design. It was shaping up to be a good day indeed.

I wasn’t feeling too sprightly however yesterday, my chronic fatigue flaring as it does, so I turned to my book of the moment by

Jess Pan

, reading about her excruciating experience of prepping to speak at The Moth Live Storytelling Event in the brilliant: ‘I’m Sorry I’m Late I Didn’t Want to Come’. If she as a committed introvert could speak at The Moth, I as a predominant extrovert could definitely pull myself together and get my networking vibe on. I decide I also want to be Jess Pann’s friend, hilarious and warm as her writing is, although I think she’s about four thousand years younger than me. I’m sure Cathy wouldn’t mind if we invited Jess along for a cuppa.

Arriving at the gorgeous outdoor venue in Bedford Square Gardens - complete with scarf and gloves as the UK doesn’t seem to have realised it’s ‘summer’ yet - I settled in for the first talk of the day: a live episode of the Women’s Prize Bookshelfie podcast hosted by Vick Hope, with guest Julia Gillard, the former Australian Prime Minister. Her of the rightly infamous and superbly expressed ‘misogyny speech’. If you haven’t seen it, watch it, and if you have seen it, watch it again. The Bookshelfie podcast asks guests to talk about the five books that shaped their lives - I will write more on this separately, but it was a joy listening to Julia’s selections, her anecdotes, and absorbing her life perspectives and values. Peculiar notions for a global leader such as treating others with dignity and respect, recognising how far we still have to go in terms of ‘equality’ within sexism and racism, having an upbringing embedded in solid moral codes and values around how we treat others… All particularly interesting to bear witness to as we approach a general election in the UK. Meeting Julia afterwards was a joy - I decide I’d like to be friends with her too. I could throw a very interesting dinner party at this rate - Jess Pann, Cathy Rentzenbrink and Julia Gillard. A friend sees the photo I post with Julia and asks if we’re related.

After a cheeky lunch interlude with my fire-fighter husband, who was on call monitoring a ‘one-man and his appendage’ incident so extraordinary it will no doubt feature in a future book, I headed back for what was to be a literal laugh out loud hour of hilarity and exuberance. Whilst he headed off to rescue a deer stuck in a fence followed by a cat on a (hot tin?) roof, I settled in to watch

Lorraine Candy

interview Deborah Moggach and Nina Stibbe.

I have followed Lorraine Candy and her partner in crime Trish Halpin for some time, with their brilliant Postcards from Midlife podcast, and have also previously seen Nina Stibbe talk, so I knew I would be in for a treat. But oh… what a treat it was! Deborah Moggach is the author of twenty novels, including ‘These Foolish Things’, which was adapted into the film ‘The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel’. Nina Stibbe is the author of the much fêted ‘Love, Nina’ - a book containing the sharp and hilarious letters she wrote to her sister when she had her first job as a nanny in London in the early 1980s. She has since written several other books, most recently ‘Went to London, Took the Dog’, centring on the period where she leaves Cornwall (and her marriage) after twenty years, to once more return to London with her dog, Peggy.

When I first saw Nina talk a few months ago, she spoke so warmly, with some priceless anecdotes about her friend who features heavily in the new book - none other than Cathy Rentzenbrink. Nina and Cathy are FRIENDS!!! Oh I HAVE to join this gang (or ‘friendship group’ as my daughter would say). Pick me! Pick me! You’ll like me - I’m quite funny and not too annoying.

And then there is Deborah…

Nina opens ‘Went to London, Took the Dog’ by describing returning to London, and the chance set of circumstances that led to her moving into Deborah Moggach’s house as a tenant. The joyous friendship that has ensued between them is abundantly clear to see. I have never read any of Deborah’s books, although I bought one yesterday and cannot wait to tuck in. As Lorraine, Deborah and Nina chatted on stage about everything from gardening to losing OBEs, bladder control to fish pie, the room was filled with the kind of throaty cackle you get when you’re amongst your closest friends. One moment in particular had me weeping - I haven’t got to this part in Nina’s book yet, but I shall attempt to paraphrase their exchange:

Logan Roy moments

Talking in and around each other (as opposed to over each other) in the way that deeply connected people do, Nina and Deborah recount two things. Firstly, how Deborah didn’t actually warm to Nina’s dog, Peggy, at all because she’s so ‘dull’; and secondly how one of their favourite things to do when they managed to get a night in at the house together was to open a bottle of wine, put the fire on, cook a Charlie Bigham fish pie (very specific, and I wholeheartedly concur with the choice), and watch ‘Succession’ (oh again I delightedly concur - I’m sure they’ll both be thrilled with my approval).

Trigger warning - extreme profanity forthcoming.

Now the protagonist of the show, Logan Roy (as played by Brian Cox), does like the odd swearword, principally telling anyone that comes in his path to righteously ‘fuck off’ and liberally sprinkling the word ‘cunt’ with aplomb at people who vaguely irritate him.

At one point when Deborah popped to the loo mid-episode, she returned to find ‘dull’ Peggy curled up on her seat. Most unimpressed by this turn of events and channelling the spirit of Logan, she promptly said ‘fuck off you little cunt’ to the dog, to which Peggy duly responded, compliantly hopping off the chair. This interlude found its way into ‘Went to London, Took the Dog’, diary style as it is in presentation. Before publishing the book, Nina asked Deborah to have a read through, and make sure she was ok with it. Upon reading this part, Deborah paused and said ‘no, that’s not right. I would never have said that’.

‘I would never have used the word ‘little’.’

Utterly brilliant. Any woman who is that comfortable with the word cunt is more than welcome at my dinner table (sorry mum). Deborah also actively eschews housework with her mantra ‘I’m too busy reading to do the ironing’. Time to set another place.

Serendipity

Having moved out of Deborah’s, Nina recalls how she commented that she would, however, quite like to live in that area and thought there had perhaps been a flat for sale locally, although she may have imagined it. Deborah responded by marching across the road to a neighbour’s house to ask if his flat was for sale. He indignantly replied ‘no’, but somehow they managed to persuade him to let them inside to look around anyway. The boldness and randomness of this sums up everything I delight in as I get older. The ‘don’t give a fuck’ barometer dialled up to the max. A month later, said neighbour contacted Deborah to say ‘actually, I think I might sell my flat after all’. As we sat in the audience yesterday, Nina announced that it had indeed been put up for sale, and she had completed on the flat that very day. She could now literally see into Deborah’s bedroom from the window of her new abode. I suspect they will have many more fish pie evenings to come.

Lorraine Candy

on instagram today described the talk as ‘the power of midlife women and also the vibrancy, curiosity and gloriously irreverent attitude women adopt as they mature’ and it ‘being like a night out in the 90s with a group of my best mates’.

I could not agree more. I then bought Lorraine’s book - sold to me on the title alone ‘What’s wrong with me’. I think I will relate heavily.

Buoyed by the event, I asked the lovely Lorraine if she may be open to receiving an ‘ARC’ of Breaking Waves. She said yes, although understandably caveating with the reality that she may not get time to read it. Such is the nature of life, especially mid-life. I contemplate whether I would ask Nina Stibbe if she would be open to receiving an ARC? She had said on stage that she doesn’t do bleak. Oh God, what if my book is bleak? I don’t think it’s bleak, I hope it’s more ‘beautiful’, but I can’t take the risk. I decide that I will wait to launch myself at Nina until I’ve written my third (rapidly overtaking my ‘tea’ book to become my second) book which is, if I do say so myself, fucking hilarious. I am enjoying writing it immensely. That will be the one that Nina will want to read, and we shall chortle about it together as we eat fish pie at my dinner party with Deborah (who will by then have allowed me to start calling her ‘Debby’), Julia Gillard, Jess Pann and obviously Cathy Rentzenbrink. I did, however, urge Nina to join Substack. You can thank me later.

Mr Darcy and the subject of ‘want’

Later in the afternoon, I had the chance to explore the installation ‘want’ by superstar actor and red-head extraordinaire Gillian Anderson. Off the back of her turn as leading sex therapist Jean Milburn in the outstanding TV series ‘Sex Education’, Gillian invited women around the world ‘to write to her about their deepest, most intimate fantasies’. The responses are described as ‘tender, sexy, eloquent, beautiful and heart-breaking’ and I am intrigued to read the selection of letters that appear in the book when it comes out later in 2024.

At the Women’s Prize, the ‘want’ installation explores some of the content that Gillian received, and inside the booth there are quotes from the book adorning the walls, along with the opportunity for visitors to add their own. It really is a sensitive, sensual, sexy, sweet, and yes sometimes heart-breaking insight into women and our sexual desires. From ‘I want to be dominated’ to ‘I just want to read in bed’ and everything in between. I even added one of my own to the wall…you’ll have to come to my dinner party to find out which.

Fittingly after all this talk of want and desire, the final event of the day before the shortlisted authors gathered to read from their books was an interview with Helen Fielding, the author of Bridget Jones’ diary.

Helen was interviewed by Kate Mosse, and shared some of her inspirations for Bridget Jones as well as how she persuades people she knows to allow her to base characters on them - she makes them really attractive in the books and then they always agree. Her influences include Jane Austen clearly - as well as loving other classics such as The Great Gatsby, Edith Wharton and John Steinbeck. She spoke affectionately of the Bridget Jones films and the actors - the warmth and loveliness of Renee Zellweger, the caustic hilarity and ad-libbing of Hugh Grant, and how she had to call the somewhat sensitive Colin Firth and ensure he was sitting down before she broke it to him that *spoiler alert* she was going to kill off Mark Darcy in her third in the series ‘Mad About the Boy’. He responded with ‘can’t you kill Hugh instead?’. Life perpetually imitating art. Helen was brilliantly engaging, although far too scary to invite to my dinner party. I think she’d be more comfortable with Kate Mosse.

This time I wasn’t able to stay for the shortlist readings as I was due at my literary agency’s 21st birthday party (darling), later in the evening, but as I write this I excitedly await the winning announcement in just over an hour’s time, at 1845 BST. Especially as alongside this, the 29th Women’s Prize for fiction, today also heralds the announcement of the inaugural Women’s Prize for non-fiction, which is so exciting. Talk about life goals.

All roads lead to Cathy Rentzenbrink

My reflections on this brilliant day, are not only on the boundless talent of the writers, presenters and hosts that I had the pleasure of seeing, but what happens time and again when women gather together. How there is such mutual support, lifting and honouring of each other’s stories. This is something I see here on Substack so often, as women collaborate and champion each other. I have experienced this first hand with the generosity of contributors to my Substack such as the wonderful writer

Beth Kempton

who has so beautifully endorsed Breaking Waves already, the inspirational

Bec Evans

and a whole host of others who are lined up for future alliances. Funnily enough when I chatted to Bec - who is one of her close friends? Yep you guessed it! It’s like six degrees of Kevin Bacon all over again.

So as I ponder whether others will accept an ARC, or whether I’ll ever get to have a cup of tea with Cathy Rentzenbrink, I think that somehow the answer will be yes to both, but if it isn’t, that’s ok. Writing can be a lonely world, and when I hear writers talk about their writerly friends I wonder if I will ever have that, and then I realise that I already do. Whilst I am building relationships ‘out there’, I have friends and colleagues right here, on Substack, with you. Gorgeous friendships that have started here, built from communities such as

Heart Leap

. Friends who encourage, engage, champion and support, and we even sometimes get the chance to meet up.

This is my Women’s Prize.

In the meantime, who’d like to come to my dinner party?