Even Grandmasters Need to Dig Deep

What I learned from meeting one of my idols

At a publishing party recently I had the honour of meeting Philip Pullman. In the world of fantasy fiction, and children’s literature, Philip is a living legend. His three-volume His Dark Materials has been read by millions, won every award going, and was voted the “Carnegie of Carnegie’s”, confirming its place as one of the best-loved children’s stories of all time.

I read His Dark Materials in my 20s, and it opened my eyes to what fantasy fiction could be. Certainly it features familiar troupes – witches, angels, portals between worlds – but it also contains philosophical depth and a storytelling richness that takes the form to new heights. It is a wondrous tale beautifully and elegantly told.

When I met Philip face to face I didn’t say any of this, of course. Starstruck, I mumbled something along the lines of: “I like your books.” Philip is now in his 70s, and a true grandmaster of storytelling. He looked at me, the mere novice, and accepted my garbled praise with good grace.

We chatted for a while about stories. He told me he never expected to find himself writing fantasy, but once he tried it he found it afforded him enormous creative freedom. I told him I’d read his early Sally Lockhart stories many times, and had recently read The Ruby in the Smoke to my eldest daughter.

He asked me about my novels. When I told him they were a retelling of the Robin Hood legends, he said: “We’re missing something with our Robin Hood stories. We’ve had all this Erol Flynn stuff, but where’s the Green Man?” Which was music to my ears, because my version of the Sherwood legends is all about the Green Man and the wildwood gods!

Guest of honour Philip Pullman gave an address to the assembled writers, illustrators and publishing folk. By coincidence, the cover for my next book, Wildwood Rising, appeared on the screens alongside him. (Thanks to my superstar agent James Wills for the pic!)

Philip and I are both published by David Fickling Books (DFB), a small but mighty storyhouse based in Oxford. We met at a party to celebrate ten years since DFB went independent, breaking away from Random House.

At the party, my publisher, the renowned David Fickling, gave a speech thanking all the people who have helped DFB flourish in the past decade. He refrained from singling out specific authors – except one, his good friend Philip Pullman.

David Fickling may not be a household name like Philip Pulman, but within publishing he is himself a legendary figure, responsible for nurturing some of the greatest talents in children’s literature

David told the assembled guests that Philip had recently turned in the third volume of his magnum opus, The Book of Dust, which he has been working on for the past ten years. To give us an idea of how great this final volume is, David quoted from a letter he sent to Philip after reading the manuscript.

The letter was ecstatic in its praise. David told Philip that his latest work was his best yet. He applauded his sentences, and the space between his sentences. He acclaimed a story that is almost transcendental in its ability to transport readers to unknown realms. This was a masterwork, a flight of pure genius, a modern classic in the making.

“But...” David said, continuing to read from the letter, “that isn’t to say it doesn’t need a very thorough edit.”

This provoked laughter from the crowd and a collected sigh of relief from the dozens of other writers who were present. Phew, Philip Pullman is human after all.

In the letter, David went on to suggest that Philip put his manuscript to one side for a few weeks before coming back to it with fresh eyes to see how it might be further improved.

I’ve been on the receiving end of similar advice from David many times. During the writing of my first novel, Shadow of the Wolf, when David was my primary editor, he sent me back to the manuscript again and again, urging me to make it better.

Listening to David read his letter to Philip, I was finally and fully satisfied that it was never personal. This is just the way DFB do things. This is just the way good stories are made. They are made through countless rounds of revision. Taking out the parts that don’t work, building on the elements that do. Repeating. Polishing and tweaking until the story is as good as it’s ever likely to be.

Nobody gets away with it, not even a titan like Philip Pullman. Storytelling is supposed to be hard. As I labour over my own writing, I find that fact quietly reassuring.

And don’t forget that my latest novel, Dark Fire, is out now. It’s the second volume of The Blind Bowman trilogy, which the The Sun newspaper called “Astonishingly good”, and the Guardian compared with A Game of Thrones.