by Caroline Day
Hope’s earliest cheerleader was my husband, Ben, who read the first page almost as it was written – and he has been Hope’s biggest supporter ever since. A massive thank you too for their sensitive readings and encouragement to Anne S and Anne T, to Belinda and Emma (medical guru), Mike, Nicole and Tim. Thanks to Edward, Grant and Ben D for their time and their wisdom, and to Jonathan for his great (subject matter allowing) photographs.
I must also thank the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Scheme, which offers manuscript assessment by published members to unpublished ones. Thank you to Jane Corry for introducing me and to the RNA’s tireless team who make it such a great organisation, and in particular to the anonymous reader whose stunningly positive manuscript appraisal gave me the confidence to send Hope Nicely straight out on her next stages of the journey to publication.
Thank you to all those who have shared their professional or real-life experience of FASD, particularly to Tracy Allen of FASD Awareness for such generosity with her time and expertise, to her team for being so welcoming and to Dr Adesoja Abiona for his enlightening presentation on the condition. Thank you to Lydia Jones of Vibrance (also Channel 4’s The Undateables) for taking the time to read Hope Nicely’s Lessons for Life. And thank you to Steven – Hope’s golden rules owe so much to you and your saying that her feelings reflected your own was the best review I could ever have had.
Thank you to the team at Lutyens & Rubinstein: Susannah, Hana and Fran, and to the finest fairy godmother of the literary agenting world, Sarah Lutyens. Thank you for believing in me! Thank you to the awesome team at Bonnier Books UK: to Sarah Bauer, my editor – I don’t think either of us expected to be editing Hope Nicely’s Lessons for Life during a pandemic, but despite coronavirus, I have loved working with you on this book – and also to Katie and to Clare and to everybody there who has put so much energy into bringing Hope Nicely onto bookshelves. As Hope might say, I am the luckiest writer I know.
About the Author
CAROLINE DAY is a freelance journalist and consultant editor, from Crouch End, North London, where she lives with her husband, children (when one’s not away at university and the other out with friends) and two dogs. She is an alumna of the Curtis Brown Creative novel-writing course and has written extensively for national media, with a focus on the human side of health and family issues. She first started writing Hope Nicely’s Lessons for Life as part of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and successfully completed her 50,000-word target in the space of a month (although she has since edited it a lot). Caroline is in close contact with the charity FASD Awareness and is grateful for all their help, input and encouragement. She does have some personal experience which gave her both the seed of the idea for her novel (‘where Hope comes from’ as she describes it) and huge respect for those living neuro-diverse lives.
Where Hope Comes From
As a journalist of twenty-plus years, I’d written extensively for national newspapers and magazines, telling the stories of thousands of real people. They had entrusted their pains and joys to me. And as my job was to tell their story and I owed it to them to do it right, the writing had always come easily. But when it came to creating my own characters and plot lines, it felt much less intuitive.
So, my focus was to find a character I believed in. A driving voice and a story that knew what it wanted to say. To learn from this exercise, I decided, I needed a protagonist who felt distinctive enough to lead the way. But … where to start?
For me, one of the hardest aspects of writing is always the infinity of possibility. But you do have to start somewhere. And if there was one unifying thread in the hundreds upon hundreds of stories that I had written on other people’s behalf, it was that I had always believed, however joyful or tragic, that no story should be bereft of hope.
Hope. A noun and a verb, but also a name. The sort of name that is charged with meaning.
So, Hope. But why was Hope writing this book? And why would a reader care? Well, Hope was writing a book because it was going to change her life. Bingo!
Hope needed a last name. I tried a few for size. And Hope Nicely came my way. Hope as in hope. And Nicely like nicely. Why? Because it felt right. Because in just that name – Hope Nicely, who was writing her book to change her life – there was already a story forming.
Hope as in hope. And Nicely like nicely. Why am I writing this book? That’s easy …
As for the decision to locate the action in a writers’ group, it felt like a situation I could recreate authentically. I had previously taken a novel-writing course and I regularly attend a local writers’ group. It felt fun to create my own fictional group, and I relished the idea of writing about writing.
So there was Hope Nicely. She was writing her book to change her life. Except, of course, she still needed a little help from me.
I wanted Hope to have a voice that was all her own. And, as a writer – and the most freeing thing from my point of view – I was simply going to write as many words as possible as fast as I could. This was because Hope Nicely’s Lessons for Life started out as an exercise for National Novel Writing Month, a yearly challenge to write a 50,000-word novel in the space of just 30 days. So no agonising over what was the ideal word to use, the ideal plot line. Just words. Hope Nicely started life as an exercise without any agenda. The name came first. It fed into the first line, which fed into the next. Those lines led into the character.
Why would writing a book be such a challenge? Well, Hope was a person that nobody would ever have expected to do this.
OK. But why not?
In all those years of writing other people’s true stories, the important thing had been to ask the questions and listen to the answers. That is what I started doing with Hope. Why are you writing the book? Why did nobody ever believe you would be capable of it?
From the questions came the answers. From the answers came Hope.
Honest and endearing and impulsive. Hope had a brain that was a bit of a muddle. But why …?
I myself have some small notion of how it feels to have a jumble sale brain. In 2010, a condition called primary hyperparathyroidism sent my calcium levels soaring. As calcium has a role in carrying messages to your brain, high levels can do unexpected things. Confusion, memory problems and anxiety were symptoms which I experienced. For me, chemotherapy and surgery corrected the problem, but the experience gave me a respect for how small fluctuations in the body’s delicate balance can impact emotions, reasoning and behaviour. It was humbling to experience how a person can be fully aware that their brain isn’t firing as it should, yet powerless to do anything.
Years before I had written about a mother whose child was born with Foetal Alcohol Syndrome (as it was termed before FASD was recognised as a broader spectrum of conditions) and I had been particularly moved by her story. But until Hope’s voice was already in my head, I didn’t realise that I was going to write about a character who had FASD. It felt rather as though I was discovering this about her, even as she grew into existence. It meant that I had to educate myself.
I did research to reassure myself that I was reflecting the condition accurately. But Hope’s voice was what came first.
On 30th November I hit my 50,000-word target. Coincidentally it was the day that Bristol University released its study suggesting that FASD was more prevalent in the UK than previously thought.
I put out feelers to various groups and was reassured by the positive feedback. But my biggest debt of gratitude is to Tracy Allen. Tracy is a busy woman who has been more than generous with her time. She runs FASD Awareness, a charity for families affected by the condition. Tracy and her husband Paul have fostered many young people with disabilities, some with FASD. After I sent her my first draft to look at, she told me how much Hope reminded her of one of the children they’d previously fostered, who was now an amazing young woman living successfully with FASD.
Since writing Hope Nicely’s Lessons for Life, I have met up with Tra
cy for coffees and lunches (recently Zoom ones, thanks to the coronavirus pandemic) and she invited my husband and myself to the group’s recent activity day. I feel privileged to have been given this glimpse into the dedication that goes into trying to bring about a better understanding for young people with FASD. It is a condition believed to affect more than autism does, yet many people have never even heard of it.
Tracy and I first met in person in September 2019, when the group’s trustee, Dr Adesoji Abiona, gave a talk about the medical aspects of FASD. It was an enlightening presentation for me.
In the late 1990s, when I was in my twenties, the magazine at which I worked had their summer sports day in Regent’s Park. As well as the statutory three-legged races and rounders, there was a great deal of beer and wine and, after a hugely boozy afternoon, everybody headed to the pub.
I was utterly unaware that I was pregnant at the time. The first I knew about it was when I had a miscarriage in the early hours of the next morning. The doctors at Middlesex Hospital estimated that I’d been about nine weeks along, and said that it looked as if I had been carrying twins. Though nobody said it, I felt sure that the drinking that day had contributed to – or caused – my miscarriage. I’ll never know for sure if that was the case, of course, but it is something I think about to this day.
Bizarrely, it had not registered during the writing of Hope Nicely that this experience had any specific bearing on my own novel. I’d even talked to Tracy about the miscarriage in terms of how damaging drinking in pregnancy could be. I wasn’t ashamed of it. I hadn’t known about the pregnancy and I’d become pregnant again just a few months later. By the time I came to write Hope Nicely’s Lessons for Life, I had two teenage children. In fact, Dr Abiona’s talk was on my son’s twentieth birthday.
The doctor talked about how alcohol drunk during pregnancy crosses unobstructed into the foetus through the blood stream, about the different stages in gestation and the lack of understanding as to why one mother drinking heavily for nine months may have no discernible effect on the baby, while in another case, even light occasional drinking might lead to a severely affected child.
My motivations for writing this particular book began to feel less random. I had written an entire novel about a young woman who had FASD. I had let her voice guide the story. I’d freed my brain to go with the flow, and the result was Hope Nicely, writing her own story to find the birth mother she had never known. What a strange thing the subconscious is.
Hope Nicely could have been my child. As it turns out, she is only a fictional one. But, nevertheless, she has taught me a lot.
HOPE NICELY’S
GOLDEN RULES
By Hope and Jenny Nicely
Rules are important. They tell us how to behave. Everybody needs rules to live by and we must try our hardest to remember them. Sometimes we might forget a rule – and that is OK, because everybody forgets things sometimes. But we should try even harder to remember next time.
Rules help us to understand the world. They help us to respect other people and ourselves too. They are very valuable. They are our lessons for life.
1) KNOW WHO I CAN TRUST
Hope, I promise that I will always, always, always love you and nothing you can do or say will ever change this. There are other people who you can trust, too. I will help you to know who they are. Mum x
I listen to the people I trust.
I don’t trust everyone.
Most people are good people, and safe to be with. But not everybody is.
If I do not know somebody, they are a stranger.
I don’t trust a stranger just because they say I can.
I ask myself: Why do I trust this person? What is my reason?
I should not go with a person or do what they ask me to do just because they want me to.
If I am scared or sad or confused, I talk to the people I know I can trust.
In an emergency, I can call 999.
I know how to say no.
2) ONLY I AM ME
Hope, I love you for who you are and there is nothing about you that I would change. If anybody ever makes you feel that you should be different, then that person does not deserve to be with you. Love yourself, my darling. x
I am proud of me.
I am not afraid to be me.
I am not afraid to cry or to laugh.
I am as good as everyone else.
Making mistakes is OK. It helps me to learn.
I am unique. There is nobody like me.
We are ALL unique. Nobody has the very same body or the very same skin or has the very same feelings or the very same brain. Inside we are all different too.
I make my own choices.
I will try not to say yes just because I want to please you and to not look silly (but please check I really understand).
I am complicated. I am capable.
3) THINK BEFORE DOING
Hope, my love, we all speak or act without thinking first sometimes. And I believe it is that little bit harder for you. I am so proud of you for trying. x
I listen to myself.
When I’m angry, step away.
Sometimes only I can make my brain be still again.
I find my calm. I count to three.
Think about consequences. Consequences are what happen because of something I do – even if I don’t want them to happen.
Little things can have big consequences. A little tap can make a big flood.
If I think about consequences, I am looking after myself and the people around me.
Being sad is not bad. It is not bad to cry. But if I can, I smile too.
When I can, I smile brightly. But only if I can.
4) KEEP OUR HANDS AND FEET TO OURSELVES
Hope, it is not only our brains which have feelings – our bodies do, too. We should never be ashamed of our bodies, but we have to think about other people. This is called respecting each other. It is very important. x
My body belongs to me.
Other people’s bodies belong to them.
We keep our hands and feet to ourselves.
We do not touch each other unless we both agree.
Other people’s bodies can make people feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.
Keeping a space of an arm away can help people feel more comfortable together.
Some parts of my body are private. They are not bad, they are just private.
They are private because they are not for showing or touching when other people are with me.
If somebody I trust needs to see or touch a part of my body to help me, then that is OK.
In relationships, too, people see and touch each other’s bodies sometimes. But only if they agree they both want to, and only if they trust each other. Otherwise, they should say no.
Hitting or kicking other people is wrong, unless they are trying to hurt me.
A hug is good, but only if I want one.
5) REMEMBER RULES AND PLANS
Hope, my love, we can’t always know what is going to happen to us, but life is easier when we try to know what is coming next. Having a plan helps us to feel more in control. A plan helps to make our brain feel clear and it helps us not to make so many mistakes. x
Keep to rules, laws and plans.
If I forget sometimes, I will try extra hard next time.
It is OK to make changes, but good to know the routines for our day.
Planning is good for my body and my brain. Routines make life less stressful.
I eat at the right times. I drink water and go to the loo before my body really needs to. I keep my body clean and fresh.
I write my appointments on my planner. I set alarms so that I don’t forget.
Being on time is important.
Life will not always follow my plan.
There will be some surprises and shocks. Try to find my calm. Remember my golden rules.
I am capable. I am calm. I am brave.
6) CARE ABOUT WORDS AND PEOPLE
Sometimes there is so much in my head but I do not have to say it all at once.
Take a breath. Find my calm.
Talking is not just words in my mouth – talking is about knowing what I’m saying.
Don’t tell people everything that is in my head.
I am real. I am important. I do not need to shout.
Sometimes I feel outside. Sometimes I feel hidden. But I do make a difference.
A conversation is about more than one person.
Ask questions. Listen. Don’t interrupt.
Not lying does not mean I have to tell everybody all of the truth.
Some things are personal. People do not need to know everything about my life or my body or my money. I do not have to tell them everything even if they ask.
Swearing is not a clever way to say something. I can find a better word.
It’s OK to say sorry. And sorry. And sorry.
Sorry does not make me bad. It makes me want to grow.
It is OK for me to laugh at myself. You can laugh at myself too.
My words matter.
I matter.
MARNIE SHALE’S NUMBER 1 VERY IMPORTANT GOLDEN RULE OF WRITING
Show, don’t tell.
Extraordinary Drop of Light
by Jenny Nicely
i
am
not
you
not
able
– me,
to see
as you
see nor
to feel as
you feel. i
am ordinary,
