Matt’s Believe it or Not (aka 8 Things About Me)

Okey-dokey. Roger Morris kindly nominated me in a recent blog entry to publish 8 things about me most of you out there do not know.
And like Roger, one of those 8 is a lie. So here goes…

1. When I was a teenager, I was a member of a rock band despite not singing nor playing a musical instrument (and no, I wasn’t like Bez out of the Happy Mondays either).

2. As a child I would talk to plug-sockets believing “little people” lived in them.

3. A couple of years ago, a student at Sheffield University took a photo of me believing I was Ricky Gervais.

4. I’m not a big fan of heights, despite scaling a 60 metre (around 196 feet) high tree in Australia with nothing but a flimsy mesh-wire cage to stop me plummeting to my death.

5. Included in the original version of The Secret War, was a long sex-scene that was excised due to the economy of words. Ah well…

6. I once hiked up a glacier in New Zealand.

7. I hate sprouts (they make me convulse).

8. My only truly near death experience occurred during a car accident in the Peak District, where I rolled the vehicle three times and flipped it boot over bonnet. Apparently it was quite spectacular, according to the police officer who watched it all unfold – he was there attending the scene of another car accident that occurred in the same spot ten minutes earlier.

Anyway, if you have an idea which one is the bare-cheeked lie, just add a comment below!

Novel-la ideas

First things first. I want to say “thank you” - all the words of congratulations were much appreciated. In all honesty, after the financial surprise from this deal fades, the greatest feeling is thinking you’re getting somewhere with your writing, and all your kind words have helped to make that feeling linger. In a solitary trade like writing, that support is indispensable.
So thanks to the following: Sally, Jane, ET, Annie, The Murph (I know who you are!), Nicky, Chris, Roger, Aliya, Dave Budd, Mel J, some anon commentators and others who haven’t commented here but have sent me messages of congratulations. So before this turns into an acception speech, thanks again to anyone not mentioned above!

You see, it couldn’t have happened at a better time.

The first draft of The Burning Sands of Time is done, but it needs a lot of work. I’d love to crack on with it now, but it’s not the right time. I have an inkling The Secret War will become a big part of my life over the coming months, and in the day-job we’re a man down so it’s getting busier there too. I’d like to be in a position where I am re-drafting the new book as a full-time job. I’d like that very much. But I’ll have to make do working through the 2nd draft in my spare time again, and to do that properly, I need minimum distractions. So I guess it will be about March next year when I start on it again.
A long time yes, but then it was two years between the 2nd and 3rd drafts of The Secret War and that worked out well!

But I’m still a writer. And a writer who writes. So I’m going to crack on in the interim with my Necrodyssey series of short stories. I’ll get a few done before Christmas, ready for next January and then write the rest over the first half of next year. My goal – if I can sustain it – is to publish 12 stories on my website that will make up Necrodyssey. It doesn’t sound too hard now, but it could be a stretch later on, hence the reason to get half the stories written before March and the next draft of Burning Sands...

As “the storm” looms closer I’ll write a more detailed blog entry on Necrodyssey in the coming weeks.

Novellas

It struck me as I commuted to work last week with a copy of Rough Cut by Gary McMahon under my arm, that the novella is perhaps the best story format for a commuter who takes only 15 minutes to get to work on the bus. As I’ve said in previous blog entries, finding the time to read is hard (though admittedly I am reading much more of late - outside of that commuting period), and sometimes sitting on a bus with the latest China Mieville or Robert Jordan is daunting – I mean, how many journeys will it take to complete this monster novel?
The novella, and I mean a story that’s around 50 to 100 pages long, is much better suited for the short-distance commuter, but like the short-story before it, the days of the novella are very much setting. Only the independent press appears to carry a torch for it - Rough Cut for example is published by Pendragon Press - and trying to find a novella in say Waterstones or Blackwells isn’t the easiest task.
And from the problems of supply, comes the problem of “reputation”. What novellas should I buy? Some novellas cost the same as full-length novels, and do you really want to be forking out six quid for a novella you’ve never heard of or from a writer that has never been mentioned before?
So my question is this…
Are there any sites that promote novellas objectively, reviewing them as part of that measure, and can anyone list five great novellas that a relative novella novice should invest their time in (excluding any novellas by Stephen King, HP Lovecraft or Clive Barker)?
Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated!

Der Geheime Krieg

Right then, time for some big news. On my return from Rome I had a message to call my editor, Will, who promptly told me that a major rights deal has been done with a German publisher, Goldmann (part of Random House) on The Secret War – sorry – Der Geheime Krieg. What this means is that The Secret War will be translated and published over in Germany in trade paperback in 2008 for a very nice tidy sum (which I am not going to disclose in this blog – sorry but I won’t be as transparent as Roger on this one!).
I get 50% of that sum – and while it’s not enough to give up the day-job, it will definitely help. It’s also one of the biggest rights deals Macmillan New Writing has been involved in since the imprint began earlier this year – and as Richard Charkin has said in a recent blog entry, the rights have been sold “for an advance which would have many established authors breaking out the champagne” (which I did last night – and I’ve been very much suffering for it this morning!).

So as news goes, this is up there with finding out Macmillan wanted to publish my book.

I guess, the most important thing is that this is the first rights deal for The Secret War, involving serious money from the start. And I’ve been told it’s a clear message to other international publishers that The Secret War is a significant book and worth looking at. What this means in the near future… well I do not have a crystal ball, but it looks promising. Afterall, I’m within a whisker of achieving my financial goal with The Secret War without selling a single copy of the book.

It’s not bad for a debut writer. And not bad for a new imprint that’s trying to break into a very competitive market – surrounded by doubters at every turn.

I think those doubters should now take note.

Crazy Romans, Mouldy Apartments

We’re back. We’ve been away to warmer climes, and are now back in cold and grey Sheffield, where our flat has developed its very own water-feature and everything smells damp and possessions are growing white stuff.

Not good.

Our apartment is quite big, but its condition is not that far removed from a garret. It’s a big old house, with very high ceilings, terrible decorating, no damp-proofing to speak of, and now the apartment above ours has been blighted by some really dodgy plumbing on the boiler, thus resulting in a constant stream of orange water coming down the wall in the hallway. I’m just glad we don’t own the flat, and it has made me think twice about buying one. You just do not have control over your surrounding environment as much as you might with a house… Some may disagree, though. But we’ve decided we must move out, and quite soon.

Anyway, needles to say, our house-hunting has struck some urgency at a very busy time right now. We’ve just come back from Rome (see below), the first draft of the new book is two weeks away (please ignore the news item on the website – it’s a little presumptuous!), the gossip on The Secret War is escalating (see next blog entry – and it is very good news indeed!); and house-hunting is almost a fulltime job these days… Oh well…

“When in Rome…”

We did not say the above once. Why? Well, I was too busy attempting Italian to say such clichéd phrases - something I thought I was mastering before a bewildered out-of-town Italian lady just stared at me while I attempted to show her how to use the metro ticket machine. Eventually I just asked her if she spoke any English but to her it probably sounded like “speeky Anglishy?” After three attempts, she just smiled and shook her head, either because she didn’t speak “Anglishy” or because she thought I was a sad, deluded tourist, one of thousands that flock to Rome every week.
My advice, if you can’t speak Italian, don’t try. They already think English people are pretty ignorant anyway, to think we’re pretty damned stupid too…

Language barriers aside, I really enjoyed Rome, even if it was mental. Having been to London countless times, and also New York, I know big cities, yet Rome has the touch of the crazies. For instance, there are no rules on the roads. Drive where you want, mow down who you want, and minimise how many dents your car gets. Pedestrians too seem to fling themselves in front of cars with sheer abandon hoping the drivers will stop and show them some mercy. It’s called being “an assertive pedestrian”, apparently.
Driving aside, the city is an abundance of beauty. Apart from the odd barrel-chested elderly gent sitting forever in a dilapidated café - sipping an espresso, the Romans themselves are pretty much like the models you see inside the covers of men’s or women’s magazines, and they in turn are surrounded by the greatest buildings erected, from a wealth of history that puts all other countries to shame. You cannot go anywhere in Rome without finding a ruin of that fallen empire, or some great latter-day building of utter extravagance engraved with saints, sinners, gods and leaders. Art and extravagance oozes out of every doorway, every window; from the painted high ceilings of a simple chapel, to the utterly spellbinding décor of a stately house, there is a severe attack on the visual senses.
I could write all week about the experience, which was largely a researching one, but instead I’ll post some photos with a few words, over the coming week. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I won’t attempt to write about it in such a small time-scale!

On a final point, I believe in fate. I do. So when we walked out of our hotel that first morning, and saw this…

…I believed, wow, Fate has done it again. Why? Well, the Secret War revolves around a single artefact known as the Scarimadaen, a bronze pyramid that acts as a doorway to Hell. The pyramid in the book is a symbol of great power, and utter terror, and one that drives the story forward. And it is an omnipresent symbol, so much so that during the ideas for the first designs of the book-cover, the pyramid was the central icon.

So to actually stay near the only pyramid in Italy – and by chance…
… well, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.

Needless to say, I’ve discovered a landmark that will find it’s way into the pages of the third book - so going to Rome was definitely not a wasted trip!

How to manage a cast of thousands (no, really!)

I am that breed of writer who needs to know what is going on at all times, like a director of a film with a cast of thousands. The current project is, (like The Secret War), a bit of an epic, and like most epics the cast list is oh so long. When I go into writing a first draft I’m always armed with a piece of paper to jot down the names of the main characters, the supporting roles and those characters I foresee appearing later in the book; and this current project is no different. I began The Burning Sands of Time with a cast list of around twenty main and supporting characters. Yet, as I reach the final chapter and epilogue, I’ve discovered this list has swelled to around seventy. Quite a few characters then.
The only explanation I can find for this is:

The Aliens effect

So what is the “Aliens” effect? Well, it’s based on the film by James Cameron, and to some degree the novelisation by Alan Dean Foster. For the uninitiated (and how could you be? Aliens is a fantastic film – by far, Cameron’s best, and not simply a war/sci-fi/horror/action film at all…) it follows a company of marines in the future who discover the fate of a colony of terra-formers on another planet. A planet that happens to be infested by very resilient aliens. Kinda like giant cockroaches from Hell. Anyway, these marines each have their own names, and probably, motivations, yet only half of them have any real screen-time. Despite that, their absence would have been sorely felt as these characters are “shreddies”. Not pieces of hard bran than takes eons to go soft in a bowl of milk, but characters that are built up in the background before being picked off one by one, usually by some nasty horror.
The “shreddy” is a tool to suggest the main characters is in much peril, while prompting an emotional response from the viewer or reader who are investing their time and feelings into a character who, sometimes unexpectedly, meets a sticky end.

Aliens has its “shreddies”, and the novelisation by Alan Dean Foster manages to develop the “shreddy” into a rounded character not glimpsed briefly as in the film, but offered a “life”. And that’s what I’ve discovered with writing The Burning Sands of Time. But instead of a dozen or so “living shreddies”, the epic nature of the book has delivered around fifty potential characters all doomed to die (often spectacularly), with individual motivations, mannerisms and fates, and so the character list has fallen off the page.

Shreddies and the economy of words

Some writers might argue this is too many, and I suppose it’s because I am sentimental that there are high numbers of “shreddies” in my new book, but I have an excuse…
In the new book, we are following a company of forty monks of the Church through an adventure that is pretty “perilous”. They have to contend with rampaging Egyptian militias, vampyres, dehydration and finally a sect of warrior guardians called the Rassis, who really kick-arse. And like the camaraderie of fighting in a war, or any struggle for that matter, I have become attached to each monk along that journey; I know all their names; their character traits etc. I also know that most will undoubtedly die before the end of the book, and each time one falls I feel their loss.
And that’s not a bad thing, because if I can convey that feeling to the reader, then they’ll feel it too. It does mean that tragedy strikes almost every chapter, sometimes on an individual scale, sometimes on a terrible scale as in the penultimate battle in chapter 23, yet again knowing these forty monks as well as I do, means they’re not killed on a whim, but fall because they were fated to. And they do so with everyone watching.
In other words, they will not be forgotten which I suppose is a point of the book: the idea of sacrifice for a greater cause and what that means.

The only stumbling point with indulging so much time with my much-loved “shreddies” is that there is still a cast of thousands around them who share similar fates, especially during the climatic battle-scenes, and as a writer you don’t want to short-change the “extras” of your story by ignoring their plight. Sometimes conflicts on this scale can be enormous once you throw in the struggles of the main characters, supporting characters, “shreddies” and the extras. And a battle that should have been 4,000 words, becomes a battle that’s 10,000 words, and so on…

So now I’m in that struggle with the “economy of words”, a struggle where I’m not sure who will win…

(…Well, eventually I hope the reader will win and that they aren’t short-changed by any editing that has to be done – I’d rather trim the story with a scalpel than hack at it with a butcher’s cleaver!
After all, when you’re writing a battle scene where hundreds are fighting and dying, every one of them has the right to a good death, don’t they?)

MNW, Memory Lane and Money

Recently I’ve been attracting new readers to the blog, so I’d like to say a big “HELLO” to you from me…

One of those new readers has been Alankria, a self-confessed consumer of all things fantastical, and also a writer. She’s basically how I was as a 19 year old – and reading her blog has sent me down Memory Lane with a broad grin. Needless to say, I’ve included a link to her blog left.

Alankria is considering sending her finished manuscript to Macmillan New Writing, and I guess there are others reading this who might be thinking the same thing. And so to answer Alankria’s question of what I think of MNW as a publisher:

So far, my experience has been good. This blog can attest to the positives that have come from my association with Macmillan New Writing. I’m blessed with having a great editor (Will Atkins), a great publishing assistant (Sophie) and Macmillan New Writing has a great patriarch (Mike Barnard). Having read blogs on the progress other authors have made and how they have been treated by their publisher, I think Macmillan New Writing have definitely got the personal touch right. I feel like a family member, I receive regular communication with the team, and have had much input with the book, from final drafts through to the design of the cover. Promotion is something that I’m new to, but Will and Sophie have been guiding me on this as well (for example, the pitfalls of doing a book signing where no one turns up!); in other words, I feel as though I’m in safe hands.

The only sticky issue will always be the contract. I was quite pragmatic in my approach to the author’s contract – I had a view of what I wanted and if the contract fulfilled that, I knew I would sign up.
In brief the contract is thus:

• The writer receives 20% of the net receipts of the book. In other words 20% of the monetary returns to Macmillan, rather than 20% of the cover price.
• The book will be sold through the usual Macmillan channels, ie via the internet, high street booksellers etc.
  
• The book will be printed in hardback (and I might add, very high quality hardbacks too!) and kept in print for a minimum of 2 yrs.
• Macmillan New Writing will acquire all rights in the work, the writer receiving 50% of the monies when sold externally ie to a movie studio, TV company etc.
• Macmillan New Writing will have first refusal on the writer’s second book.
• This contract is non-negotiable.

Now these are just the main points. There are others as well, but this is the stuff most writers will concentrate on when they first see the contract. Compared to other publishing contracts I know some writers say the author gets a poor deal.

But do they?

Well, take a look at Roger Morris’ blog. He’s just got his first Macmillan New Writing royalty statement and being the “transparent” guy he is, he’s kindly published the details on his blog. I’m not sure about you, but I don’t think the figures are that bad. And certainly not bad for an imprint that has been slated by other writers and agents (particularly) who have their own reasons and agendas for wishing to see the whole initiative fail…

Yes, the rights thing is the main concern, but let’s face it, how many writers sell their books to Peter Jackson these days? Not many, and unless you intend to write only one book in your lifetime, you should think about the publicity it will give you for further books.
The other important factor, is that Macmillan New Writing is not just the opportunity to get published, but a chance to get your leg through the door of one the biggest publishers in the world. And let’s face it guys, would a major publisher try and shaft a little writer for the sake of a few quid and their reputation?

They really aren’t that stupid, you know…

I hope that answers a few questions. I don’t have any regrets about signing up with Macmillan New Writing. My only regret is that they weren’t around a few years ago.

Protean plots and energetic prose

I’m excited, and if you know me personally, you’ll know I just I can’t hide it. After feeling a little sluggish about The Burning Sands of Time, I’ve turned the corner. This weekend I wrote 6,000 words on the penultimate battle scene, and I loved it. It’s everything a battle scene should be: bloody, passionate, chaotic, perilous and action-packed. I’m not a writer of sterile battles or fights – they’re not realistic to me. A fight or a battle needs to get the adrenalin pumping, have rhythm like a thumping heart, and the reader needs to be swept away with it, horrified by it, even sickened at times, but ultimately be exhausted at the conclusion. I’ve tried to capture that in The Secret War during the many battles big and small that run amok through the book. But I think I’ve out done myself with the battles in The Burning Sands…

Apart from the great deal of writing I’ve done (including writing a ghost story that might find it’s way into my web-anthology Necrodyssey which starts on my official website next January – see left), I’ve also written a few pages on all the changes for the second draft of The Burning Sands of Time. One major change is the title. It was, after all, just a working title and so I might be leaning towards something taken from within the book itself. At the moment I have two titles, possibly three and will decide on the final one during the third draft.
In addition, I’m scrapping around five chapters of the first draft, and will write three new ones to replace them. A couple of sub-plots will be consigned to the library of “Discarded Ideas”, and the 2nd draft will be streamlined, cutting it down from a bulky 190,000 words to something that runs along with a good pace at 150,000 words. All these changes will make it a superior book and addresses the problems I have noticed since writing the first draft – kinda like looking at your decorating from a distance and noticing where the wall-paper doesn’t line up, or where the paint is patchy and rough.

It’s a big task, and I reckon it will take me about three months or more to get the second draft done. But it will be worth it.

I promise.

Passing Stranger

Sometimes you get caught unawares, almost like a passing stranger turns out to be someone you know. In this case, something that dropped off my radar has now reappeared.
Some of you might remember my blog entry on Scott Matthews, a rather talented song-writer who I felt a certain affinity with. After all Scott has been writing music for about the same length of time I’ve been writing books, neither of us finding that success we have dreamt of. Scott released his first album Passing Stranger on an indie label earlier this year. I have it, and it’s a fantastic work, a real dream-like album that arrests you with wonder. It also happens to be my ‘adopted soundtrack album’ when I get round to writing Smith next year.
Anyway, the point of this entry is that I had largely put Scott’s success to the back of my mind, until I bought a copy of Saturday’s The Guardian at the weekend, and found Scott’s album staring back at me from the inside cover of the Guide. “Debut album” it said, “released 2nd October…” That means Scott has found himself a Major to publish his album – and it is well deserved. Forget all your X-factors, your Pop Idols, your manufactured singers – this guy can sing, he can play, and boy he can write good songs. I don’t plug much stuff in this blog, as you might know, but sure as hell I’m plugging this…