With the publication of my first novel, people have been asking me how being Deputy Head in a primary school has inspired that novel. My first, instinctive response is I don’t think it has- three retired ladies solving a murder doesn’t, on the face of it, seem much connected to my working life. But then on further reflection I’ve realised that actually there’s a bigger truth: this world of the primary school where I’ve lived and worked in for the best part of four decades might not have directly inspired the novel- but it has inspired my whole life as a writer, on a continual, ongoing basis.
J M Hall
It’s a brightly coloured, highly motivated world, where the realities of life- spelling, Christmas, queueing, multiplication, ageing- are experienced and explored through colour and drama and songs and stories and plastic bricks and playdough. An infinitely better place for me to be in than sitting at home facing a blank page or screen where my sense of well-being depends almost entirely on the last sentence I’ve written.
And of course, there’s the people who make up that world. The children. Young people who’ve not quite learnt to cover fears, joys, plots, hopes, with an adult veneer, bringing their woes and joys and news about pets and trips to Pizza Hut. And the staff- with their own stories, shared by the photocopier, in the staffroom, doing playground duty. Motivated, caring people, working flat-out. In a primary school its perfectly possible to pass someone in the corridor, exchange greetings and six crucial pieces of information without breaking step. And these people are clever.
And wise. To have retired lady primary school teachers as sleuths was a complete no-brainer.
And, as I say, people are stories. 300 plus people in a building means a blizzard of tales, day in, day out- families, pets, losses, bills and burglaries. Some stories become the stuff of legend, told and retold (the dinosaur in the nativity crib, the septic tattoo, the exploding delivery van) Some are so dark, so personal you’d never tell them, let alone write about them.
Also, there’s the fact that being Deputy Head means my skills as a writer are required on an industrial scale. A letter is needed asking parents please not to block in the Fruit and Veg van. The Playdough policy is three years out of date and needs updating NOW. A data analysis is urgently needed for an authority visit. All these things need writing quickly, succinctly, coherently; my skills are both needed and valued. For a fragile writer like me, smarting from that latest rejection, or struggling with a chapter that clunks like a bag of bolts- it’s by far the best place to be.
And, perhaps most significantly of all, I’m operating in an environment where it’s immaterial whether or not I’m a successful author.
As long as I can dash off a quick playground policy or run a tight Merit Assembly- that’s good enough.
