Something retro

I have a confession to make. It appears I told a white lie when I said I had never previously kept a diary or a journal. Like a lot of people (especially creative people who hate to throw anything they’ve created away even if it is incomplete with no possibility of being finished) I am a horder. Yep, I horde things away until I can horde no more. So while I was tidying the study over the weekend - looking for some rare space to do more hording - I discovered a little note-book: A Hobbit’s Journal. I received it for Christmas (I think in 2001) and it’s a lovely little journal with sketches of the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings on every page by someone called Michael Green. The journal itself is wonderful (why I horded it away is beyond me) but there is also some added treasure inside. It appears I started a hand-written blog in December 2001, on the book being published in January 2007, The Secret War. So in the spirit of blogging, I’ve decided to type up two of the entries. It’s interesting to me to look at this now (just as it will be interesting to me to look at this entire blog in five years time) to see how far I’ve come, but also to note how different things were then. In 2001, I had no idea I would be published. Indeed, I had only hope, and one that was increasingly being eroded by charlatan agents and cowboy publishers. I guess the book “The Plainsmen” (as it was called back then) was perhaps the last throw for me. To see whether or not I would even get a nibble in that great publishing sea before I threw in the fishing rod and decided to do something else. I didn’t of course - I went travelling for six months instead and missed writing so much that I bought a palm-top and began writing a children’s book. Still, these are the two entries, fresh and hopeful:

2nd January 2002
I’ve put a spurt on and now I’m midway through chapter 18. The title of the book is still a problem for me¦ It was called, at the beginning, “The Temple of Fire”, but it sounded too much like a “Dungeons and Dragons” tale or something from “Indiana Jones’. Next came “Infernos and Prophets”, a little convoluted and too “Clive Barker-esque”. So what is wrong with that? Well I guess nothing except I want something synonymous with the PLAINSMEN books, and not a derivative of some other odyssey. I want something that captures the spirit of adventure and the peril of the fated journey William Saxon and Kieran Harte face; not like “Will and Kieran’s fun adventure”, or the like, but something that is also epic. Something like “The Soldiers of Sallian” or “The Reluctant Warriors”, or “The Baptism of Fire”. How about “Plainsmen: The Valley of Fire”

24th January 2002
I’ve sent the first two chapters of Plainsmen: The Valley of Fire to an agent, aargh! Yes, I’m nervous. Wouldn’t you be? And I’m a week away from finishing the 2nd draft. Already I see scenes for book 2. Maybe I’ll write some in Oz!

That was the last entry I wrote. I only wrote four entries in all. History tells me the first agent I sent it to, an agent that I’ve always sent stuff to “Dorian Literary Agency“ rejected it but with a few nice comments. They couldn’t quite take the mix of history and fantasy in the book but at least they had the courtesy to tell me. The other agents and publishers didn’t even tell me that. And so a dozen submissions and rejections later I left England for Australia and New Zealand. It was the right time for me as well, because I’d had enough of trying to get stuff published. For me, it felt the door was always closed. I still wrote though, but for myself, so I wrote a children’s book called “The World of Night” inspired by some art I bought from a stall in Kings Cross, Sydney. How things change…

I guess the Plainsmen, Infernos and Prophets or whatever you want to call The Secret War, could have been shelved forever if it weren’t for that Channel 4 writing competition. And the rest is history folks.
Yep, things change. And sometimes it is good to keep those rejections and old entries in journals to remind you of how much they have. Sometimes hording is a good thing…

Hello. Goodbye. (And I have a cover too)

Fridays don't tend to be this busy. But there you go. I thought I would do two blog entries before the weekend. This second one is more of a farewell and greeting one for my working life as it is my last day on the job here on Target Strategy Team (say it three times with a mouthful of rice-crispies). On Monday I join South Yorkshire District Performance Team - so hello to them, and goodbye to ol' And now for the writing side of things... Will Atkins sent me a mock-up for the cover of The Secret War, and it's fantastic. It's not what I originally visualised the cover to be, instead it has actually surpassed what I suggested. It more than does the job of being both striking and conveying the overall theme and tone of the book. A wonderful job by the Macmillan designers! I'm not in a position yet to show you all what the cover is, but it's in the post and I can't wait to upload it on this blog. Have a good weekend all!

One shock admission and one business plan

It doesn’t happen often (indeed I can’t remember a time before now when it has) but I have finally been able to use a skill I’ve learnt during my day job for my writing. Part of my working role is to look at business plans, a job that it is pretty uninteresting as it stands, and sometimes ignored completely. But it narrows one’s focus on the jobs ahead. At the moment I’m juggling two projects at once, so I decided it was time to have a business plan for my writing. Sitting down last night, I mapped out all I needed to do for The Secret War though my editor will no doubt add more things to the list!) and the various milestones for the current book, The Burning Sands of Time. Yeah, it sounds pretty organised, perhaps too organised, but it did result in another surprise. While I was away at the weekend, sitting in the car on the long drive down to Bournemouth, my imagination start running wild and I inevitably came up with an idea for another novel (thankfully I had my lap-top with me and Sarah was driving, so I had chance to jot it all down). The book is called Smith, and is set ten years into the future. I’m not going to fill this blog entry with a plot summary, needless to say it will be different than The Secret War and The Burning Sands of Time. And short as well. I wanted to write something that is half the length of my usual stuff, say between 200 - 250 pages long. Smith is going to be a near-future thriller set in a morally and socially decaying Britain on the cusp of great upheaval, and as such requires little research. It will also be written in a different style to my usual one, and has got me excited about the prospect of getting it all down on paper. So much so I had a stab at Chapter 2 last night, and typed out a 1,000 good words in less than half-an-hour - a record for me! I even managed a one page preview which will be published on the website in the summer. Mel (my website designer) had a look and thought it was gripping and couldn’t wait to read the first draft (nor can I for that matter!). And so to the business plan. The great thing about having a business plan is that you can see where things begin and end. The first draft of The Burning Sands of Time should be completed by July, around the same time my website is completed. Usually I take a breather of a few weeks between 1st and 2nd drafts either to write a short story or just to chill out generally (it doesn’t do to rush headlong into another draft so close to the previous one, I’ve found). But this time I think I can afford to take a bigger break, and do something different, say like the first draft of Smith? Smith will be like a breath of air compared to the epic heroics of The Burning Sands of Time. It will be brief and racy, and something I can write without hampering the bigger project. And, more importantly, if I start it in July, I should have the first draft done by November - just in time for me to shut up shop so I can concentrate fully on promoting The Secret War. And then in March next year, I’ll start on the 2nd draft of The Burning Sands of Time(followed on the heels by the 2nd draft of Smith!). It all seems so simple – and that’s the beauty of business plans. They’re not daunting, and if you do them correctly and realistically, they should be accurate up to a couple of weeks And you’ll know where you are, when you are. You might even be able to cram in another project or two.

Distractions and decisions

During the Macmillan New Writing launch, now over a week ago (bloody hell, where did that week go?) one of the writers I spoke to admitted they were having problems with their second book. The problem was they felt under pressure to better themselves and inevitably their first book that was getting published. My advice (ironically from a writer who would be published after them) was that they shouldn’t approach their second book with a view to getting it published. They should approach it as a labour of love, and one they want to write, not one they want to write for Macmillan who get first refusal on it. As I’ve discovered to the folly of some where I work, you should never try and second guess someone, especially when you don’t know what they want. The Burning Sands of Time had begun life in my mind way before Macmillan saw the first chapter of The Secret War. I had even written an aborted version while I was travelling in Australia and New Zealand a few years back. When Macmillan asked me to sign on the dotted line, I didn’t think “great, what else can I write for Macmillan?” Instead I thought, “great - The Secret War is now complete, now for the second book!” And that’s how I’ve approached it since. The Burning Sands of Time (though this is a title that might change) is being written even though The Secret War has not been published (and it hasn’t yet - I must wait until January next year for that) and so I’m writing a second book because I want to, regardless if the first becomes a success.
So I feel quite smug. And I suppose I felt quite smug at the launch, because I didn’t have the problem of self-imposed pressure that other writers feel. I just approach things differently, for the sake of the writing more than anything. Sure, I can write even with a gun against my head, but I know I’ll be doing the reader a disservice if I had to churn something out because I was contracted to, or felt I had to. Perhaps that is why I am quite happy at the moment not to have an advance. To me, an advance is just added pressure to repay a publisher’s financial faith. I’d like to think I can pay my way like everyone else in this world. But all is not perfect, nor is it easy, as I’ve found while writing the second book. I’m suffering from distractions - too many of them, as it stands, and it can only get worse. In my working life I’m leaving my job for another one (same organisation, different side of the fence though - gamekeeper turned poacher if you will). It’s a job that should narrow my concentration which can only be a good thing and keep my discipline focused on work, and then my writing (I hate jobs where you are idle for hours on end - you just don’t feel like writing when you’ve done nothing constructive through the day). But it’s upheaval and distracting. Then there’s the house-hunting we are trying to cram in, a mate’s stag-do to sort out, and then more importantly: my book being published next year. When I imagined being published, I never believed there was so much to do, even eight to nine months before the launch date. But there are lots and lots and lots of things that need doing. Easter weekend, for instance, was spent in Bournemouth with my sister-in-law, Gill, who is my personal photographer too and has taken some pretty good photos of me for publicity purposes and for the jacket of the book. Then there is also the website which I’m designing with Mel, not to mention visiting writing sites, contacting writing groups etc. And then there’s this blog, which is taxing too, (not to mention distracting). So why do a blog? Well, I guess because a few of you out there find this blog interesting and some benefit, but also because it’s therapeutic. As I said to Will Atkins, I’ve never kept a diary before, and this is the closest thing I have to writing down my thoughts and feelings. At the moment I’m doing okay. I write about three entries a week, which isn’t bad. I’m hoping that continues, but I know there will be times when I won’t be able to keep that momentum going. At some point I’ll need a breather. But not quite yet!
And so to the writing… Yes, I’ve been distracted, and I know the first draft is going to need a lot of work to bring it up to scratch. But it is flowing nicely when I don’t get sidetracked. Like kick-starting an old car, the first few sentences or paragraphs of any writing session are of a throaty, wobbly standard, but from then on it flows like a Mercedes Benz on a clear stretch of the M1!

A point to debate

I promised that I would divulge one of the reoccurring issues of the book launch, so here goes.

During my years of breaking into the publishing world, I followed the tried and tested path of writing a chapter, a synopsis, and a covering letter before praying to the great book god that it gets delivered on time and accurately to an agent out of the Writers Handbook. (Every year I used to buy a copy, and every year I would ear-mark those agents, old and new who would best fit the type of stuff I wrote. I wouldn’t just go for any, you understand, nor would I just go for those who listed authors I’d heard of. No, I was quite sensible in my approach). And then I would wait for a response.
And wait.
And wait some more.
And when two to three months passed by and I would finally get a reply (from just the one agent, you understand, as you are not allowed to send your work to more than one agent at a time - it’s frowned on) I would discover whether or not they wanted to see the rest, or whether I got a - not interested - letter that are churned out time after time after time, without any pointers to see where you went wrong.

Sound familiar?

It should do for most reading this, as it is the common scenario for most first time writers. I would waste years sending stuff off to agents, usually only managing four to five a year because it took so bloody long for them to read a chapter, a synopsis and then get someone to type a standard reply to me.
I suppose we should understand that agents do get an unbelievable high number of first chapters sent to them a week (according to one agency they get about 3,000 a year) so I can understand why time drags by. But one thing I could never understand is why we are allowed to send our work to only one agent at a time. The excuse that I have heard time and time again, is that if writers were allowed to send out to more than one and it was common practise, then the market would be swamped (that’s rubbish - its swamped anyway). The unofficial version I heard from an agent was that most agencies don’t like playing against each other. But why not? Afterall, agents have often played publishing companies against each other, so why shouldn’t a writer be able to do the same with an agent?
As the Mafia says, “It’s just business. Agents are gatekeepers to being published. Pure and simple. Yes they have other roles too, but these are roles relevant to only writers who are published or getting published. For an unpublished writer they are the guard and the gate who more often than not just shakes their head when you want to pass by, denying you entry because you are not deemed a cash cow in most cases (there are a few agents who will take a risk, but these are like hen’s teeth). Most publishers won’t look at you unless an agent is holding your hand, so it brings a certain dilemma to new writers. If an agent won’t take a risk on a new writer, then how on earth do they get published?

I know there will be a few out there who don’t like football, aren’t into football, and are even bored by the mention of it, but bare with me here, as football is a bigger business than books, like it or not. If football was run the same way as the publishing industry in terms of new talent - football would die as a sport and a spectacle, as we’d still be watching over-the-hill pros kicking about a bag-of-wind match in and match out, providing nothing fresh or exciting to the game. Why? Because it’s the agents who would now have complete control over the new talent in the game, and not the clubs, and agents wouldn’t take the risk or the time scouting for talent.

In the footballing world, the top clubs have academies for rising stars, nurtured from a young age to compete on the centre stage when they are ready enough. It’s not the agents who dictate who these newbies play for, but the clubs who spot them and bring them on. The agents only get their hands on their cash-cows when they’re fully developed. Now look at the publishing industry.
There is talent there, in abundance, and Macmillan apart (with Macmillan New Writing), only the smaller publishing houses are taking a risk on them. Some even ignore agents to find this talent. But the big clubs, those HarperCollins and Hodders who continue to use the agent as gatekeeper, are seeing little in terms of new talent - talent they could take a risk on, even nurture, for greater profit later on.

This has been happening for some time now, and the publishing industry wonders why sales of books are falling. Yes, there are other reasons, like TV, DVDs, computer games etc. but the likes of JK Rowling and Putman have shown people will buy big if it’s well written and fresh, not the same formulaic rubbish they’ve been contracted to write for the same publishing house over the next ten years - in other words, an agent’s cash cow. Don’t get me wrong though, agents do have their uses. But I think the question is, do we really need to have them there as gatekeepers, and should publishers spot the talent themselves and take small risks, than let cash-hungry agents dictate the state of the publishing world for everyone, reader and writer alike?

Where should I put my cocktail sticks?

I’m back. I took to London and survived.

Melodrama aside, Sarah and I have just returned from two fantastic days in the Capital, my head swimming with thoughts and inspiration. We did the touristy thing like any normal Brits, mooching about Oxford Street (where I discovered my trainers weren’t made for walking - ouch!), touring the Tower of London, and visiting the Pixar Exhibition (a bit over-priced guys, but some great touches all the same).
It’s good to visit, as I said in my last blog entry.
It’s even better when the excuse to go in the first place is an event held by Macmillan Publishers to celebrate the launch of their new imprint Macmillan New Writing, that Thursday night - and this is where you’ll have to indulge the following as it will be a little long - perhaps the longest blog entry I’ve done yet.

Before Thursday, I felt a certain trepidation about going. My previous experience of any literary event, be it a convention or just a simple book signing, was a feeling of overwhelming humility in the presence of writers who had actually got published. After all, these were the people I aspired to, and against all odds in some cases, they had achieved it. In the past I have been tongue-tied, nervous, blank-minded, or generally in awe of published writers. So the idea of meeting a bunch of them without mumbling, bumbling and fumbling inarticulately was my worst nightmare. After all, I am meant to be an equal now, with a book coming out from their stable in January - yet it still hadn’t fully sunk in about being published. I remembered the words of wisdom from Annaliese who told me “not to be a wall-flower and go out there!”, and of course, my trusted conscience, supporter and wife, Sarah, who just told me to enjoy myself and not be nervous because these guys are just like me: first time writers, who got the luck and are now published.

We arrived at the do a little early (I didn’t judge the distance too well between our hotel and Macmillan Building, and Sarah was having a nightmare with her shoes - how she didn’t break her ankle is a miracle in itself!). On arrival we were met by the few early birds, chief amongst them Mike Barnard who greeted Sarah and I warmly. He then introduced me to Will Atkins, my new editor - who I have spoken to before on the phone, but like all business relationships, it is great to put a face to the voice. I only managed to speak to Mike briefly before he was whisked off to meet some of the other faces appearing at the doors to the building, and so I chatted to Will about my book, about the event and things for the future. I’ve always been told that one of the best things in a writer’s life is to have a great editor, who is both insightful, talented, and approachable. I reckon I’ve got that with Will, and for a first time novelist to find that quality of support on his first venture is pretty damned lucky.
Will introduced me to Sophie Portas, MNW’s publishing assistant, who like Mike and Will, had also read The Secret War with great interest, and just like Mike and Will, Sophie was very friendly, approachable and made me feel part of a family, something I didn’t expect. I had quickly turned from someone who felt humbled, to one who felt accepted.
And then it began dawning on me.
The revelation started after meeting some of the other writers. The first, Edward Charles (call him Ted if you will, it doesn’t matter because it’s not his complete name, and he’s not used to being addressed as so!) is being published in May “In the Shadow of Lady Jane”, and admitted not being excited about seeing his book in print. It surprised me, because I can’t wait to get my fingers on a bound hardback copy of The Secret War. Edward has a dry sense of humour and I guessed he was secretly excited about it but didn’t want to show it too much. It’s far better to remain cool about these things apparently - though I for one won’t be! Edward and his wife were consistent with the evening thus far, being very friendly, didn’t gush (as authors are wont to do) and thought the whole thing amusing, but not too serious. It was wonderful to meet such unpretentious people.
Next up we met Mary, one of MNW’s readers, again someone who read and enjoyed The Secret War but told me there are a lot of would-be writers out there who are sending MNW their manuscripts and she expects many more to come as MNW takes off. The competition is now so high, that according to Mike Barnard (during his speech) only 1% of writers who submit to MNW will actually get published. I know there’s a lot of you out there who are thinking “bloody hell, odds of 100-1!” but then these are better odds than through any agency, or most publishers. It also dawned on me that I was joining quite a list of hand-picked authors who had gotten this far.
I spoke to one of those authors, Jonathan Drapes (who is published in December with Never Admit to Beige) after the launch speech. To be honest we didn’t talk that much about the writing (after a while, chatting about the mechanics of writing and how your book got to be picked can wear thin) so we talked about Australia (James hails from the same city as my relatives) amongst other things. James and his girlfriend (a lovely couple) have done pretty much what Sarah and I did in reverse - came to England from Oz to travel, thinking of settling down etc. So far they’ve only seen London, York and Merthyr Tydfil, so I’ve tried to persuade them to visit more of the country, including Scotland and Sheffield, and the Peak district. Hopefully, they’ll see more with any signings Jonathan has to attend at the end of the year.
At this point I had drunk a few glasses of wine and had eaten very little (the wine was definitely flowing that evening - the hospitality of Macmillan was impressive), so going against my rickety and self-imposed diet, I decided to eat some entrées, a collection of prawn skewers, oriental rolls and cocktail sausages. The only downside was where to put the sticks!?! Sarah hid one in her handbag, and Jonathan had a bunch of them in his pocket..!
As the night was drawing to a close (two hours was way to short a time to talk to such admirable writers, editors and assistants) Sarah and I purchased a book each (we were on a budget, guys, but we will no doubt be buying the other books when they come out) - Roger Morris’ Taking Comfort for Sarah, and I liked the look of Conor Corderoy’s Dark Rain. We managed to collar Conor to sign it for me, and spent the last fifteen minutes of the event chatting about writing, the “gatekeeper system” imposed by literary agents, Dark Rain, Conor’s next three books and my book also. Sarah and Conor’s wife chatted to the side and she gushed about the whole writing process, her enthusiasm was infectious. By the time we had stopped talking, and Conor and the Corderoy family were going home, we realised we were two of the last remaining guests. I managed to drag back Roger Morris from exiting the building, and he signed the book and managed a couple of minutes chat before dashing off to a prior engagement.

It would have been great to chat to Roger some more, as it would have Michael Stephen Fuchs, writer of The Manuscript, also out this month. I’d hoped that Michael would join us afterwards for a drink (of all the writers there, Michael, and also Samantha Grosser, were the ones closer to my age who would have been able to give me some perspective on the whole getting-published thing) but it wasn’t meant to be. Hopefully I’ll get another chance to chat to him in the coming months and get a signed copy of his book.
Thinking the evening was drawing to a close, and being newbies to King’s Cross, we asked Will for tips on decent restaurants nearby. What I didn’t expect was to be invited out with Will, Sophie, Sophie’s boyfriend Phil and the bookseller from Goldsboro Bookshop, David Headley. We ended up in an Italian somewhere in Angel where we drank wine and beer, had a bite to eat to soak up some of the free-flowing wine from before - and chatted about everything from the state of the publishing industry, tax-laws on royalties (my thanks to Phil, though admittedly, he baffled me), and whether or not writing should be entertainment or art. We even got onto the subject of the Da Vinci Code, and whether or not it was crap. I think, after a little debating, the opinions were divided (I’ll go into more of the different issues of the night through later blogs, particularly the great “agents” debate).

It was a fantastic end to an evening that had surpassed my expectations, and by the close, I promised Will and Sophie that we would return to London in the summer to talk more about my book and the marketing side of things. My head was spinning from a mixture of wine, the new friends we’d made and the dawning that I was now one of those people I aspired to - one of those people I would mumble, bumble and fumble to so inarticulately. For now I can say with conviction: “I am Matt Curran, and I am a writer”.