About
It’s no secret
that for the past twenty years a rumour has gone round that Jessica Stirling has been passing herself off as a guy. Time, at last, to come out of the closet and admit that the calumny is true: Jessica is indeed a feller, a tall, dark, handsome feller, suave as a yard of shantung - and a born liar to boot.
His real name is Hugh Rae and from where I sit, not three feet from a mirror, he looks more like Albus Dumbledore - minus the pointy hat - than Sebastian Faulks on a good hair day. Once, many moons ago, he might have turned a few heads at the Tesco check-out but, alas, no more. Forty-two years hunched over a keyboard of one sort or another, thirty-two of them hiding behind the skirts of Ms Jessica Stirling have taken their toll and the only head that turns in Tesco now is that of his carer wondering if he’ll make it to the coffee bar before he falls down.
Well, not quite. Hugh may not be the hunk he once was, but he’s still alive and kicking in the guise of Jessica Stirling. Which leads us on to the question why a reasonably nice guy like Hugh C. Rae, who one made a living as a writer by shooting people in the back and digging up dismembered corpses, gave up a life of crime for the little black dress. The answer is simplicity itself: he was asked. Nothing, but nothing is more flattering to a writer’s ego than to be offered a niche on the list of a major publisher, and nothing, but nothing is more daunting than to be told the novels will be aimed squarely at the women’s market and must have women, as it were, up front.
Never being one to shirk a challenge, Hugh manfully took up the gauntlet - and went in search of a writing partner. He didn’t have far to look. His best friend in the Glasgow Writers’ Club had long wanted to break into print in book form, had a treasure-chest of published short stories and serials behind her and was, most crucially, female.
Peggie Coghlan, half a generation older than Hugh, wise in the ways of the world, a wonderful weaver of plots, and a thorough professional without a vain bone in her body, was not easy to lure into a writing partnership. Gallons of coffee, pounds of chocolate cake and hour upon hour of discussion of what life might be like for a mining family back in the 1880s finally convinced Peggie that here was a novel worth the writing and that a partnership with Hugh might conceivably work.
Hugh’s commissioning editor at Hodder & Stoughton put on a brave face when told that a partnership deal had been struck, gave the outline the nod and set up contracts on a strict 50/50 basis. Much later, Hugh learned that betting in the Hodder office had been heavily against a partnership project producing anything publishable and when the first draft of ‘The Spoiled Earth’ eventually thudded down on the editor’s desk the initial reaction was one of relief followed, happily, by considerable enthusiasm for the book and for ‘Jessica Stirling’s’ future.
Why did the Rae/Coghlan partnership succeed when most writing partnerships end in divorce, disaster or bloodshed? From the outset Peggie and Hugh were clear that their talents were complementary, not competitive, that what mattered was not who did what but how the individual contributions served the novel as a whole. Soon after they began setting up ‘The Spoiled Earth’ a third party joined the twosome - Jessica Stirling herself. Hugh and Peggie always spoke of ‘Jessica’ as if she were a real person, a sort of super-editor, who had a hand in all their decisions concerning the direction and tone of the story.
In practical terms, storyline and character development were discussed at great length and Peggie’s brilliance as a plotter rescued the story from many an impasse. Next came research. Peggie was more of an ‘on the spot’ researcher than Hugh. She liked rooting about in libraries, digging up material from old newspapers, visiting what was left of the novel’s locations. She even exchanged her beret for a miner’s helmet and toured one of Scotland’s deepest pits while Hugh, showing the white feather, stayed home, tracked down, purchased and dissected most of the printed material required to make the novel accurate and authentic. When the detailed outline was complete, Peggie began the first draft, focussing particularly on scenes involving the women - of which there were many - and soft-pedalling a little on scenes of high action. When Peggie had finished about two thirds of the draft she handed it over to Hugh who - wait for it - proceeded to rewrite it.
At this point most writers among you will faint dead away at the thought of another writer mucking about with your precious prose. But what Hugh brought to the table was considerable experience as a novelist - over 20 titles in print at that point - and a sound knowledge of how a full-length work of fiction is constructed. Peggie was in full agreement that snipping-and-pasting was no solution to the problem of consistency. She trusted Hugh to protect the integrity of her characters and dialogue while reshaping certain scenes to add tension and maintain flow. Hugh was always aware that he was simply applying the skin to the flesh and bone that Peggie and he had created and if a radical cut or lengthy addition to the draft became necessary he would consult with Peggie before undertaking it.
In around eight months, the novel was finished and with the publisher. Peggie and Hugh, the bit fairly between their teeth, were already off and running on a sequel, ‘The Hiring Fair,’ for no other reason than to see what their characters would get up to next and for the pleasure - and pleasure it was - of creating another Jessica together.
Seven years and eight partnership novels later Peggie decided to retire. By then she was into her sixties and, having spent the best part of her writing life locked on to a typewriter, felt that it was time to spread her wings. Her husband - also named Hugh - had retired and was keen to travel and see something of the world.
Hugh-the-Writer was still in mid-career, however. In a generous gesture Peggie offered Hugh the sole use of the Jessica Stirling name if the publishers were willing to accept the arrangement which, fortunately, they were. So Hugh C. Rae became Jessica Stirling and, over the next 25 years produced the annual Jessica unaided. What did Peggie think of the ‘new’ line? ‘Not bad’ she would say. ‘Not bad,’ which coming from my laconic friend and former-coauthor was high praise indeed.
Several years ago Peggie’s health took a turn for the worse. She went off to live close to her daughter in Leicester and, sadly, died there four years ago. But even now, when the first copy of the latest Jessica Stirling novel pops, all shiny and bright, through the letterbox, I think back to the many happy hours Mrs Coghlan and I spent scoffing chocolate cake, drinking coffee and building a novel between us. And sometimes, when the plot won’t twist or female characters won’t do as I tell ‘em, I wish that Peggie was still around to give me - and Jessica - the benefit of her amazing talents as a storyteller and the sort of advice that a writer will only accept from a true and respected friend.
