Welcome back to A Writing Life, 26’s sharing space for stories from our members’ writing lives. Having followed Rob Self-Pierson and Anita Holford over the last two years, 26er Molly Ovenden takes up the baton for a six-month stint.
“Don’t you just love New York in the fall?” Nora Ephron’s book is responsible for Tom Hanks, a.k.a. Joe Fox, declaring his I-HEART-NYC affection in the film, You’ve Got Mail. Have you seen it? My mom and I used to watch it all the time. I’m the annoying person who whispers the lines just before they happen in the film when I watch it now. I marvel at the nostalgia this story stirs up in me. That is powerful writing. I want to be a powerful writer who evokes nostalgia in my readers.
So much of You’ve Got Mail is about books and how they affect us, bring us together, offer us gifts of comfort. Meg Ryan, a.k.a. Kathleen Kelly, says, “When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.” This is true, and the way we are transported as adult readers is unique and precious, too. I want to be part of people’s literary upbringing and landscape.
Autumn is indeed on the doorstep. It’s been so dry this summer in Leeds and much of England that the grass and trees are already crunchy, but from thirst instead of changing seasons. Still, the prospect of autumn delights me. I love wearing a cardigan and scarf when it gets chilly. Soon pubs will light their open fires and I can cosy up with a book (my “in-process” book, or someone else’s finished story from the bookshelf) and that feels like a good reward for persevering in the hard graft of writing life.
This autumn holds an extra heavy weight in my writing life. I’m finally pitching my novel to find an agent and acquire a book deal. What I’m actually saying out loud to writing friends (that’s you, now, too!) is, “For Christmas, I’m giving myself the gift of an agent and a five book deal.” Please hear my laughter through these words. I know this isn’t how publishing or agent-finding works, but I’m aiming unreasonably high because I don’t know what I am capable of. I have a deep-seated need to do my part to get this story out into the world. Or, at least, to get this story out of my body so I can move on to other things. I have so many ideas.
Thomas Goodun’s New Philosophy on Life
I shared a bit with you last month here about Thomas. The only update I can offer is that I’m still committed to re-writing this novel and getting it into the hands of readers who will devour this book of second chances, new-found purpose, and unexpected friendships. So close to finishing rewrites of the book, my trusted first readers have cleared their reading life schedules for late September/early October.
I have wanted to quit many times because (I don’t know if you know this, but) writing a novel is hard! I’m not complaining. I am in awe of novelists. What a work of beauty and perseverance to get a story into book form. I hope to join your ranks. In the meantime, I salute you and commit to eating as many cakes and pastries as are needed to complete this book.
Writing Poetry While Praying, Running, Painting
Poetry is my response to most things. I experience the world and express it through poetry. Reading and re-writing my novel which feels bereft of poetry is likely in part why I feel conflicted. I write poems for people on the spot on my vintage typewriter, I write poems as a prayer, while I’m out running, in response to artwork–my own and others’ (a.k.a. ekphrastic poetry). Why can’t I include poetic, sensory language and beauty in my novel? Maybe I’m trying too hard. Maybe I’m putting unnecessary pressure on myself. Maybe it’s actually there, but I’m too close, too familiar with it–that’s what one writing friend suggested. They might be right.
I returned home from a hot, though cloudy run with a friend. While I didn’t write a poem on this particular run, I finished listening to The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher, a 1980s sweeping family saga. Someone in book club recommended it to me, a possible “comp” title to include in my pitch to agents for Thomas Goodun to demonstrate who might also enjoy Thomas.
After my run, a pile of neatly-stacked packages greeted me outside the flat. The one on top stamped with “National Poetry Library” was a minor blow when I first saw it. On 27th September 2025, I learned of this magical place dedicated to only poetry inside the Southbank Centre in London when a couple friends took me there. They encouraged me to inquire about getting my own poetry books to be part of this special library. I asked, felt courageous and intimidated, and semi-forgot about it, letting doubts distract me. On 23rd May, a family member had an extra day from a business trip in London and asked if I could meet her. I regained my courage and brought all six of my poetry collections to the NPL.
This package meant they’d returned my book submissions. Grateful for the practice of courage, I scooped the packages up and set them in the kitchen to deal with later. First, yoga, water, shower, food. Then, I would steel myself to lament my undesired outcome. Not a failure, because I tried, but–disappointment. Once nourished, I took a deep breath and ripped open the package. I paused in confusion, because not all of my books I’d sent to consider were in this package.
I scurried to unfold and scan the enclosed letter. They thanked me for sharing my books with them. Each month, they receive 200-300 books of poetry to consider for inclusion in their library. “No decisions are taken lightly, however the process, as a result, can take up to 6 months,” they wrote. I heard back from them in 3 months.
It continued, “On this occasion, the panel has decided to take Volume 1 of Poems for My People so we are returning the other books to you. We appreciate your bringing this new material to our attention. It helps us ensure that we keep track of new developments and publications, as well as offer people who use the library an up-to-date idea of contemporary poetry.”
EEEEEeeee! What splendid news.
“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life—well, valuable, but small—and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.” Kathleen Kelly
Maybe I am making a bigger impact with my writing life than I realise.
Thanks for coming on this journey of A Writing Life with me, Molly Ovenden.
Until next time…Happy Writing!