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Leading up to the eagerly anticipated release of Virginia Betts – Burnt Lungs and Bitter Sweets, we thought we’d have a catch up with one of our most hardest working authors. With just under 100 pre orders already and a week ahead of release something tells us this is going to be a great success.

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Hi Virginia. Thanks for taking the time to answer our questions and to let us find out a bit more about you, your writing process and of course your fantastic novel.

Can you tell our readers a little about the book and what genre you feel suits it best?

The book started life as a poem inspired by a workshop run by James Jenkins, and this was born from a photograph of an old shopping trolley in the river gipping. The poem then became a short story, which then became two, and I just kept going with the same characters. The main protagonist is Hoagie, who, at first is perhaps not the most likeable or ‘good’ person, but gradually he grew on me, and I think readers might find themselves in a bit of a moral dilemma over him. He’s probably a good person who does a few bad things – like all of us? The story moves through from the present back to 1976 and each chapter is set in a different year or decade – stories in themselves. It centres on Hoagie and his friends, Toad, Jonesy and Toggie from the age of 17 to around 60 and their adventures are quite ‘colourful’ to say the least. They start out as punks who love the Sex Pistols (whom they go to see in Holland!) and it goes from there… There are some important female characters too, one in particular is not there for long, but she is probably central to a lot of things that happen for Hoagie. The genre was hard to pinpoint – it’s ‘Urban Grit’ for sure – I would say ‘Tragi-comedy’. Those who have pre-read it have commented that they laughed out loud and then felt a little bit bad about laughing! Perhaps Trainspotting is the closest comparison I could make. It’s certainly ‘no-holds-barred’ and quite ‘brutally realistic’ in places. But I really missed Hoagie and the gang, and their outrageous antics, when I had finished it.

Your bio makes an interesting read in itself, can you tell us about your theatrical work?

I have been acting since I was 11 and I have LAMDA qualifications. It was all I wanted to do as a young adult and I have played many parts during my life on the stage – Lady Macbeth for one. Strangely, I often seem to be cast as villains or slightly mad people… I stopped acting when I was married to my first husband and juggled motherhood and teaching in secondary school. I still did a little bit of performing in bands, doing a few pub gigs and school shows. I returned to the stage with a vengeance fairly recently – I got an equity contract to perform in a show as Kate Bush, and also some of my own poetry, for which I created a soundscape. I went into a studio to record my own version of ‘Wuthering Heights’, which ironically, I had often done as a party-piece at Karaoke for fun! I can imitate almost anyone and most accents – I once played Marylin Monroe (but I am far too old now!) –  my Yoda impersonation is legendary. More recently I have become a member of ‘Black and White Productions’ which is a local and very popular theatre company and I have recently played Mary Boleyn (manipulating Thomas Cromwell) Elizabeth Barton (mad prophetess predicting disaster for Henry 8^th), Maud Gonne (Irish actress and wayward girlfriend of Yeats) and Patricia Highsmith ( American writer of The talented Mr Ripley who kept snails in her bra). I am currently in a Christmas comedy as the rather posh girlfriend of a ghost hunter who can’t see ghosts – but my character can. I feel so at home with this theatre company – it really is like a second family. I have also written for the stage. I co-wrote and directed a short play for the Headgate Theatre based on 1980’s songs called ‘5^th August 1986’. I also regularly perform poetry shows and have one coming up with ‘punk poet’, James DomEstic, in May. As well as all this though, I have run my own tuition company for nearly 12 years now.

Do you have any other published works and can you tell us a little bit about them?

My first book is a collection of short stories, called The Camera Obscure, which are all gothic pastiches, supernatural and magical realist in genre. One of them is a classic Stevenson-style tale set in a graveyard, one sees a vain young man trapped behind his mirror, one sees a victim of abuse find revenge by entering a painting, another is written from the perspective of a murdering psychopath trying to justify his choice of career! There’s a lot to ponder over. I wrote a classic ghost story during lockdown, which was published, and then I just kept going. The title is a play on Camera Obscura (meaning Dark Chamber), as it is a collection of ‘snapshots’ but I wanted the title to reflect something ‘odd’ or ‘hidden’ as well. At the same time, I wrote a poem I am really proud of, called An Afternoon Walk. This also got published in Acumen, a very ‘worthy’ literary journal. Again, I just kept writing more and my first collection, Tourist to the Sun was published. This year, Anxiety Press published my second poetry collection, That Little Voice. Both poetry collections have a preoccupation with the passing of time. I am a prominent member of The Suffolk Poetry Society and The Poetry Society, and I recently worked with prisoners at Warren Hill, where they also performed their own poetry. I have been invited to return with this latest book, Burnt Lungs and Bitter Sweets for their book group, and I am intrigued about what they will think.

Who has supported you along this journey?

Urban Pigs Press certainly has! Thank you for believing in me as it’s been such an honour and a pleasure. The local Suffolk writing community is really supportive, I have found. We all seem to know each other and champion each other’s work. I am always very open to meeting new people and having new experiences and I have met some extraordinary people by chance, who have been so supportive. For instance, after attending the Primadonna Festival, I happened to take the same train home as Jane Savidge, the person who was at the forefront of ‘Britpop’ and can probably take the credit for coining the term. I was reading her book about managing Pulp, and we chatted. She gave me an interview for a magazine I write for, and she then had a read of this book to give me a comment.  I also met author Winnie M Li at this festival and she too pre-read the book and attended the book club I run at David Lloyd gym via skype. I can’t fail to mention my family, who always support everything I do! My husband has had a bit of a hand in suggesting antics for the boys in the book to get up to – we used to go to the Wine Boutique on the quay and I would make plot notes which got wilder as the wine went down. I think people around us gave us some very odd looks – when people read it they will see why.

What are your three favourite books?

I have a whole library – literally a room with walls of shelves, so this is a REALLY difficult question for me, as my taste in books is as eclectic as my music taste. ( I have well over a thousand collectible vinyl records too). I like non-fiction as much as fiction, holding biographies of the likes Stephen Fry, John Lennon and Ayrton Senna, and factual books about sharks, and Amsterdam! The three fiction books I will choose, after much deliberation, are: The Complete Sherlock Holmes, (cheating I know!) Dracula, and The Patrick Melrose series. (Ha – another set!) But where would I be without a Stephen King book? Can I have 4? I also adore Jekyll and Hyde, but I don’t need to take that to a ‘desert Island’ as I can practically recite it from memory (I have an eidetic memory).  But I have many ‘favourites’ which I read over and over again, including kids’ books from my childhood.

Tell us what you love most about the indie community.

I love the way we have all got each other’s backs. And I like the autonomy of being ‘independent’ and being able to write in different genres. We are a thriving ‘underground’ movement creating high quality works of art. We are the voices worth listening to; we are the cool scene; we rock!

Was your own life experience an inspirational factor in penning the book?

Ha ha!  If I told you that I would have to kill you! Well, seriously, many of the incidents are definitely inspired by real life events and anecdotes, or events which have been spliced together and heavily exaggerated or changed. Not necessarily my life though – I doubt I would be still standing if it was entirely based on my life! The characters are also inspired by real people, or a mixture of real people in all sorts of ways. We can’t help putting ourselves into our work really – every story includes parts of the writer’s story in some way. There are a couple of incidents in the book which are absolutely verbatim taken from my life, and they are ones where you would think, ‘you couldn’t make it up!’ – and you’d be right – but it would be no fun to reveal which ones and  I’m not incriminating myself! I, like most authors, am a bit of a magpie, and I observe closely, I watch people, and I listen. Then I might use something I heard or experienced. I have a sign at home which states ‘Careful, you might end up in my novel.’ But I am sure you won’t want to admit it if you recognise yourself in this one! I will reveal that I did a bit of ‘undercover’, actually in disguise, research for this book, and what I got from it was pure gold. There. Intriguing eh?

Is there anything challenging you find in novel writing?

If I started out thinking ‘I am writing a novel’ and trying to plan it all out and worry about a word count and where it was going, I would have found it a nightmare. As it was, writing the chunks of it in chapter sections like stories and only scribbling a few plots in books, seeing where it took me, it only took 5 or 6 months to write over 70,000 words. I am not a planner in that way. And I put it in the right order when it was closer to the end. Thinking about the big picture would have been very stressful. But I knew where it would end up – I wrote the end way before the middle, for instance. I have to trick myself into writing a little bit each day, without telling myself it’s a novel, and then it isn’t too overwhelming. Time, with all the other things I do, is always a challenge. But I prioritise: I will do the creative things first and the housework can go to hell! No-one is ever going to regret not doing the hoovering are they?

When you create characters, are they fully fleshed out in your mind beforehand, or do they blossom as you write?

I think they blossom as I write. Hoagie seemed to be less important than Toad and not that likeable when I wrote the short story which became chapter 1 in Toad’s ‘voice’. I could clearly visualise them all – I always can – but Hoagie grew into someone who had a lot of heart. He changed as he got ‘older’ in the book too. And the narrative perspective shifts from chapter 2 and then back again by the end. I always read my writing out loud  – I can hear their voices in my head. I write conversations like a scene from a play and if it has the right effect on me – or the lucky person I read them too – then I know it’s right. So, in this book particularly, they changed as they went on – rather like real life.

Music plays a heavy through line throughout the book, what compelled you to utilise it in such a way?

It wasn’t really a deliberate and conscious decision. I always describe my own life as ‘lives’ because I have done so many different things over the years. But one thing which is a constant in my life is music. I have a vast and eclectic collection, and when I write anything, and indeed in my everyday life events, I always imagine the soundtrack to it. I imagine the opening credits to the film, the appropriate music as a scene takes place, and I make a playlist to go with it. When I play it, it brings characters to life. I have made over 50 playlists and some are very nerdy – made when I was fanatical about a TV show perhaps. I used to make mix tape playlists (the word ‘playlist’ has been around since the 1960’s you know) and I would design a cover too. I would copy them for friends, and I still have them all and so do they, apparently. I used to invent great titles for my ‘albums’, like ‘Chopin Bored’. As the characters in ‘Burnt Lungs are so influenced by the music culture too, I thought I would include the suggested playlist with it and put it on spotify as well. I am very particular about the order of the songs – they reflect what happens in the book really.

Can we have a sneak peak at any future works you have in the pipeline?

I have nearly finished my second ghost/gothic story collection, which has a couple of sequels to stories in the first one, and I have 17 new poems for my third poetry book all done. I have got about three novels loosely planned out, two ghost stories and one sci-fi fantasy comedy, all of which are at least 10,000 words in, ( I hop from one to the other because that keeps me interested) but the one which I am going to work on and finish first centres around a character called ‘Johnny Radd’, which is likely to be the title. This is an excerpt from what is likely to be the first chapter, give-or-take probable editing or changes.

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‘Johnny Radd’

Jen sensed trouble. Her mum had called earlier to summon her round for a ‘family conference.’ Who does that, she thought. Only bloody fake families on telly, and fuckin’ religious nuts.

The minute she got off the phone, she called her little brother.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said. ‘Me too.’

‘Oh crap. What do you think it is?’

‘I dunno,’ said Alan, ‘but do you reckon one of them is ill, or somethin’?’

‘Oh my God!’ Jen’s chest tightened. ‘Why didn’t I think of that? Shit, it’s got to be dad! Must be.’

‘Well, I can’t go,’ said Alan. ‘I’ve got a meeting really early tomorrow.’

Jen was immediately pissed off. Alan never went to anything.

‘But you can get a train back later,’ she said.

‘Can’t,’ said Alan. ‘You know they only run once every 10 hours or something.’

‘They do not!’ Bloody Alan. Always an excuse with work. ‘You have to go!’ she said.

‘Too short notice. That meeting really is first thing.’

‘But this is an emergency!’

‘You don’t know that. Look, I have to go. You tell me what it’s all about, I’m relying on you. If it really is an emergency I can come back then.’ He hung up with a final ‘Bye!’

Typical of him, thought Jen. How can he still be pissed off about them calling him Alan? Mind you, who does that to a kid? ‘Alan’ sounded like he was an old man; like he walked out of the womb smoking a pipe and wearing slippers. It didn’t suit a baby. But then, Alan was an afterthought. Alan was never planned to happen at all. Alan was a sticking plaster baby.

Jen had never been close to her brother – he was too young – and now he’d moved away (pretty much as soon as he could) they were even more distant. Lucky bastard. He always leaves the shit to me! she thought. If I see anything on Insta with him waving his arms about in some club though I’ll have something to fucking say. Too busy. Meeting. Fucking excuse as usual.

But she was worried. Parents were supposed to be immortal. They shouldn’t just get sick or maybe die. She called her friend, Katherine.

‘Yeah?’ Katherine slurred.

‘Are you high?’

‘S’Friday night.’

Jen rolled her eyes. Katherine was usually fucked up by 5pm any night. She was a teacher, so she finished work at 4.

‘I’m kinda busy,’ said Katherine. ‘Goin’ out. What do you want?’

‘I’m worried about my parents,’ said Jen. ‘Mum has called me round for a ‘Family Conference’, which we never have. Al’s not going – do you think someone’s ill or dying?’

There was a short pause. Jen then heard the click of a lighter and the chink of ice against a glass as it was slammed down on a table. ‘Oh, hang on, can I put the phone on speaker while I wee?’ said Katherine.

‘Great,’ said Jen.

‘Ok.’ The voice echoed. ‘Dropped my fag down the toilet,’ said Katherine. There was the flush. ‘Ok, yeah, probably,’ she finally replied.

‘What?’ Jen was exasperated.

‘Yeah, Someone is probably sick or dying,’ said Katherine.

‘Thanks so much,’ said Jen. ‘Have a nice night.’ She cut the call. Her heart palpitated. She looked at the clock – 6.30. Time to go.

The family home looked exactly the same as ever from the outside. The garden was well-maintained; the driveway free of weeds. The windows were open a fraction, signalling someone was at home. Inside it wasn’t much different either. Going there was like stepping back in time. Jen always felt she regressed back to childhood when she visited; she became the child she’d worked so hard to leave behind. Her stomach did a double-flip as she approached, and before she could even ring the doorbell, her mum had opened the door.

‘Dad’s outside,’ said her mum. ‘I’ll give him a shout.’

‘Alan’s not coming,’ said Jen. ‘Did you need him here, because it could wait.’

‘It’s all right,’ said her mum. ‘It’ll keep ‘til we see him. I mean, you can pass on the message.’

Jen was irritated. It couldn’t be that bloody important then. Her mum ushered her in and offered her a drink. Jen asked for wine, but her mother shot her a disapproving look. ‘You’ll be an alcoholic, like Tony’s wife, if you keep drinking.’

‘It’s Friday night. I fancied a glass of wine, not a bottle of vodka,’ said Jen.

Her mum went off and returned with the tiniest glass of wine ever. Sherry sized. Fuck, thought Jen.

Her dad came in minutes later and offered her another one. This was an excuse to get his own, even though he’d been banned due to his pills. Jen accepted. This would make them both much happier. Then her mum returned and started.

‘Your dad and me, we’ve been married a long time,’ she began.

Oh, thought Jen. They want a party for their wedding anniversary. Bloody Alan had better share the bill!

‘Well,’ her mum went on, ‘we thought it was better to tell you now, but we have decided to separate.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Jen. She didn’t see that one coming. ‘But – why?’ What else could she say?

‘Sometimes you don’t love each other in the same way you used to, and you need time apart. It’s been this way for a few years, but we want to be honest and see if we need a break from each other.’

‘But – you’re, like, nearly 70 years old!’

‘We are not! We’re 67!’ said her mum.

‘But – where will you go? What will you do?’ said Jen. ‘And why isn’t dad saying anything?’

‘I don’t think dad is as keen to admit it as I am,’ said her mum, ‘but he does agree with me that something needs to be done.’

‘It might not be forever,’ said her dad.

‘But what if you decide it is? What then?’ said Jen.

‘Then we sell up and split up,’ said her mum. ‘I’m moving out into the flat,’ and dad is staying put. For now.’

Jen was amazed. Her parents didn’t split up! How could this be happening?

‘Do you want me to tell Alan?’ she said, ‘Because I think he should hear it from you. And I think you’re making a mistake!’

‘I know it’s hard, Jen,’ said her dad, ‘but we’ve been living a lie. And we need to be honest now and see if it’s not too late to find our best selves.’

‘This is bullshit!’ said Jen. ‘It sounds like it’s one of mum’s bullshit pseudo-psychology evening classes to me!’

‘I knew you’d be upset,’ said her dad, ‘didn’t I tell you Elaine, I said it would upset her.’

‘Jen, you yourself have been divorced. Just because we are older doesn’t mean that we don’t experience the same ups and downs.’

Jen downed her wine. ‘My husband had two affairs. With the same woman! That’s totally different. Look, I need to go,’ she said. ‘I need to go and process this all. Obviously, I am upset. I just need to leave now.’

‘You’re not driving are you?’

‘No – I walked. I’m going out later.’

‘With that Matthew?’

‘Yes, probably. Alfie’s with his dad, so…’ Jen said her goodbyes and left. She was going out, but she texted Matt to change the time to a little later.

When she arrived home, the first thing she did was try to call Alan, but she only reached his voicemail. She decided she’d get ready to go out first.

When she was in the shower, Jen thought she heard the phone ring and peered out through the steam to grab a towel. Wrapped in her bathrobe, and cursing her curiosity, she padded downstairs and looked at her phone. There were three voicemail messages and a text saying call me, all of which were from Alan. She called him back and this time he answered.

‘Have you heard?’ he said.

“Yes! What a shock! I can’t believe it,’ said Jen.

‘I know!’

‘I mean, I thought they’d be together forever!’

‘Hey?’

Well,’ said Jen, ‘It’s our parents, isn’t it?’

‘Er, are you talking about the same thing as me, Jen?’

‘Why,’ said Jen, ‘I’m talking about our mum and dad splitting up. What are you talking about?’

Alan went silent and blew some air out. ‘Nah man, ‘he said, ‘but wow! Didn’t see that one coming!’

‘But what are you talking about?’ said Jen.

There was a long pause. Then he almost whispered. ‘He’s comin’ out. Johnny Radd is getting out.’

Jen was so stunned she couldn’t speak, then, in a tiny voice, she whispered, ‘Shit.’ Nothing else could compare to that moment of hearing that name after all those years. Johnny Radd was getting out. Johnny Radd. She felt physically sick. If there was one name she did not want to hear in this tangled mess of a day, it was Johnny Radd’s name. She hadn’t seen Johnny Radd in thirty years.

Because Johnny Radd had killed her sister.

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Thanks again for talking to us. This has been really fun to get to know a bit more about the person behind the cover. We’re really looking forward to sharing this book and eternally grateful that you chose Urban Pigs Press.

Roll on the 15th December!

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