Kay Harker and Cole Hawlings Picture accessed via BBC There are few things more Christmassy than the opening few bars of the theme tune to The Box of Delights . In fact, the tune is based on Victor Hely-Hutchinson's Carol Symphony and had been used in radio adaptations of the same novel years earlier than the 1984 television series. Clearly, everyone already knew that you just couldn't improve on that sound to evoke the magic of Christmas which - for me and for many - is so wonderfully explored in John Masefield's story. As a viewer, one of the things I enjoy most about the television series of The Box of Delights is the acting. Child actors are precarious things: too sweet and they're almost unbearable to watch, not sweet enough and they're unbelievable. They must walk that fine line between the two, and it is a perilous one! Most young actors fall into the first category, where their on-screen presence is almost dangerously saccharine. Not so the child actors ...
The history of the written word is fascinating. It is largely easy enough to come across in the form of books and pamphlets, and through these we can get an idea of how society was structured - at least from the top downwards!
But the best writing to tell you the truth about someone, comes in the form of letters.
Over the years, I've collected many letters - some personal to me, others from and to complete strangers. As you might have gathered, we are a family of hoarders when it comes to history. There are letters from businessmen to clients, from parents to children, and from partner to partner. They provide a wonderful insight into the normality of life, something which I feel has helped me to better form my characters in my head so that, although these letters might never make the page, I know the backdrop to their conversations: what they chose to write about and what matters to them when they are at a distance from one another.
One letter which did make it into my writing was from the physician Henry Thompson to his little daughter, Kit. For so accomplished a man, it was refreshing and magical to read his words on another level as he wrote to his child from his new position in Brussels. The humanity shines out of his words, as does his humour, and I feel I have come to see a side to him that few people knew, all from the letter.
And then there's the handwriting. When Day's Dying Glory went out to its Beta Readers (a very scary experience for a debut book!) one of the enduring comments made was in praise of the line:
‘Miss Imogen,’ she read, in a hand that was alarmingly angular and aggressive.
The artistry of handwriting can be used as surely as any other feature to tell readers a lot about the writer. Is the letter hurried? Are the words meticulously formed? Has someone toyed with new and interesting styles of writing?
Below are parts of a couple of letters I've collected over the years. Imagine the hands which wrote them, the eyes which read them, and the hearts and minds united over them... Instant characters, settings, and relationships!
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