Like some great steam-powered engine, this blog is starting the inevitable wind-down. The gears have been dropped, the steam is barrelling away and fading from the funnels and the pistons are grinding to a halt. And why? Well because a fiction writer needs to concentrate on what he does best: telling stories.
In two weeks time I’ll be typing the first paragraphs of The Black Hours (something I should have done this month, but due to various things like Sarah’s sister’s wedding not to mention the further nips and tucks of The Horde of Mhorrer, it didn’t happen). Once I get involved in the new book I think only news about the publication of The Horde of Mhorrer and the paperback of The Secret War will tempt me back to the blogging-sphere. That and any trials and tribulations that occur during the writing of my third book.
So in a couple of weeks, blog entries here will be few and far between. I’ll still be posting the occasional blog entry on the Macmillan New Writers blog of course, but even there they’ll become fewer. So if you come here expecting a new blog entry every week, my sincerest apologies. I’ll try to get one done every fortnight or so (I’m loathed to take a sabbatical, ala Grumpy Old Bookman, so I will be blogging occasionally) so do not despair. Nor will I disappear completely and you’ll still find me commenting on other blogs (see the links on the right).
But yes, it’s time to lock myself away in that tower of black bricks, with that heavy oak door, with no one to speak to apart from the spiders and dust fairies.
Oh, and my imagination of course. Mustn’t forget that…
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Textual Fulfilment
Apart from being distracted by Wyndham/Gigeresque novella-ideas, I’ve also been sent some further “nips and tucks” from Julie at Macmillan for The Horde of Mhorrer. Far from the radical revision that turned me into a hermit at the end of 2007, these tweaks are less labour intensive, and after a break from the book of about two and a half months, I’m really enjoying it.
Which is a real surprise, because I’ve now read The Horde of Mhorrer nine times in two years and should be sick of the sight of it. As it happens, I’m not, and it’s a real joy seeing someone else’s suggestions on the text, making it tighter, toning the muscles of the prose, keeping the pace at its optimum. When the proofs arrive later this year, that enthusiasm will hopefully be maintained, which is a very good sign, I reckon.
After all, if you’re sick to death of your own book, do you really expect others to enjoy it?
Which is a real surprise, because I’ve now read The Horde of Mhorrer nine times in two years and should be sick of the sight of it. As it happens, I’m not, and it’s a real joy seeing someone else’s suggestions on the text, making it tighter, toning the muscles of the prose, keeping the pace at its optimum. When the proofs arrive later this year, that enthusiasm will hopefully be maintained, which is a very good sign, I reckon.
After all, if you’re sick to death of your own book, do you really expect others to enjoy it?
Monday, March 17, 2008
Not another one…
This morning I despaired. I despaired because I woke up after a restless night and sat at the laptop for half an hour to write down what I thought would make a brilliant short story, called “A Tornado in Chapel Hulme”. I despaired because a) it made me late for work, and b) as I began writing it, I realised this wasn’t a brilliant short story at all, but quite possibly an epic novella in disguise, and I got sucked in.
I suffer from an overabundance of ideas yet have very little time to write them, so this story is particularly annoying because I can see it being a lot of fun and a possible breakthrough in terms of my writing – something that would define my writing more than the previous two books, or even The Black Hours (but then my imagination is sure to say that – it wants the book written).
So what do I do? Do I trust common-sense and start The Black Hours in April, or do I go with my heart and imagination, and write something that could just grow into a behemoth of lopsided proportions or could possibly be the best thing I’ve written thus far? Oh, and I’ve also got two weeks worth of further nips and tucks on The Horde of Mhorrer too.
Bugger.
I suffer from an overabundance of ideas yet have very little time to write them, so this story is particularly annoying because I can see it being a lot of fun and a possible breakthrough in terms of my writing – something that would define my writing more than the previous two books, or even The Black Hours (but then my imagination is sure to say that – it wants the book written).
So what do I do? Do I trust common-sense and start The Black Hours in April, or do I go with my heart and imagination, and write something that could just grow into a behemoth of lopsided proportions or could possibly be the best thing I’ve written thus far? Oh, and I’ve also got two weeks worth of further nips and tucks on The Horde of Mhorrer too.
Bugger.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Returns, Discounts, You and Me
Recently I’ve been keeping an eye on the Bookseller site, over Waterstone’s proposed central distribution centre that will attempt to combat the bane of publishers everywhere, and dare I say it, writers too: the book return.
The process of returning an unsold book to the publisher, which has been quoted at "23%" of all books sent to Waterstone’s, is something I wasn’t aware of until last year when several of the Macmillan New Writers were suddenly hit with a large negative on their second royalties statement. Without getting too embroiled in financial matters, the first royalty statement included all books taken by the bookseller, not just those sold by the bookseller. In some cases authors believed they had sold a great number of books only for the next statement 6 - 12 months later to tell them that actually no that wasn’t the case, and they’d sold a lot less than that - due to the returns policy.
At the end of this month, I get my second royalty statement, and I have absolutely no idea how much it will be. It should include the second half of the German deal, but this could be severely dented by the returns if there are any (and again, I have little idea how well The Secret War actually sold last year). So yeah, the returns policy is something I’m just a little curious about.
Now Waterstone’s has come up with a good idea to combat this problem in the industry by using a central distribution centre that will store and then redistribute books that are not selling so well in various stores. That is, instead of returning the books to the publisher for either pulping or so they can be sent back to a store where the book is doing well. So it looks like common sense is prevailing at last – but at a cost.
The cost is a further discount of up to 5% on each title between the publisher and Waterstone’s.
Which is something I’m also curious about.
The discount between the publisher and the bookseller won’t mean much for the consumer because I doubt any of this will be passed on in terms of a reduction in pricing. You’re not going to find your favourite author suddenly with a red sticker stating “an extra 5% off”. This discount will most probably be absorbed by Waterstone’s redistribution of the books, which is fine if you’re a writer selling say 1,000 books a week, or even a month.
Anything less than that, and a writer’s profits start to suffer.
Macmillan New Writing caters for debut writers, and debut writers in hardback. Their print runs are quite small – less than a few thousand in most cases – even smaller in others. The returns policy is a bit of a shock to the system, but quite fair (why should a writer get paid for a book they haven’t sold?). In the new Waterstone’s world, fewer returns will appear on the royalty statement, but counterbalanced by lower real-term profit too. If you’re selling just 1,000-2,000 books every six months, taking around 5% of that profit away doesn’t seem like much, but hey the writer earned it – all for the sake of tackling a problem in the publishing industry.
I guess what I’m saying is that while Waterstone’s approach to tackling returns is sensible, 80% of published authors will still suffer some pain from it. As will publishers (though comparatively less as the discounts should be off-set by the gains in not having to personally redistribute returns or the pulping of unsold books).
How this all pans out, we’ll have to see. It’s just a small footnote in the great scheme of things, worthy of perhaps a paragraph somewhere and probably only a single blog entry here, but Waterstone’s is the biggest high-street bookstore in the UK and where they lead others often follow.
The process of returning an unsold book to the publisher, which has been quoted at "23%" of all books sent to Waterstone’s, is something I wasn’t aware of until last year when several of the Macmillan New Writers were suddenly hit with a large negative on their second royalties statement. Without getting too embroiled in financial matters, the first royalty statement included all books taken by the bookseller, not just those sold by the bookseller. In some cases authors believed they had sold a great number of books only for the next statement 6 - 12 months later to tell them that actually no that wasn’t the case, and they’d sold a lot less than that - due to the returns policy.
At the end of this month, I get my second royalty statement, and I have absolutely no idea how much it will be. It should include the second half of the German deal, but this could be severely dented by the returns if there are any (and again, I have little idea how well The Secret War actually sold last year). So yeah, the returns policy is something I’m just a little curious about.
Now Waterstone’s has come up with a good idea to combat this problem in the industry by using a central distribution centre that will store and then redistribute books that are not selling so well in various stores. That is, instead of returning the books to the publisher for either pulping or so they can be sent back to a store where the book is doing well. So it looks like common sense is prevailing at last – but at a cost.
The cost is a further discount of up to 5% on each title between the publisher and Waterstone’s.
Which is something I’m also curious about.
The discount between the publisher and the bookseller won’t mean much for the consumer because I doubt any of this will be passed on in terms of a reduction in pricing. You’re not going to find your favourite author suddenly with a red sticker stating “an extra 5% off”. This discount will most probably be absorbed by Waterstone’s redistribution of the books, which is fine if you’re a writer selling say 1,000 books a week, or even a month.
Anything less than that, and a writer’s profits start to suffer.
Macmillan New Writing caters for debut writers, and debut writers in hardback. Their print runs are quite small – less than a few thousand in most cases – even smaller in others. The returns policy is a bit of a shock to the system, but quite fair (why should a writer get paid for a book they haven’t sold?). In the new Waterstone’s world, fewer returns will appear on the royalty statement, but counterbalanced by lower real-term profit too. If you’re selling just 1,000-2,000 books every six months, taking around 5% of that profit away doesn’t seem like much, but hey the writer earned it – all for the sake of tackling a problem in the publishing industry.
I guess what I’m saying is that while Waterstone’s approach to tackling returns is sensible, 80% of published authors will still suffer some pain from it. As will publishers (though comparatively less as the discounts should be off-set by the gains in not having to personally redistribute returns or the pulping of unsold books).
How this all pans out, we’ll have to see. It’s just a small footnote in the great scheme of things, worthy of perhaps a paragraph somewhere and probably only a single blog entry here, but Waterstone’s is the biggest high-street bookstore in the UK and where they lead others often follow.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The Horde of Mhorrer…
…Can be officially pre-ordered at Amazon UK.
I guess that also means the hardback of The Horde of Mhorrer will be officially published January 2009. There’s no detail on the Amazon page as yet, but the blurb will be based on the following (taken from my website):
I guess that also means the hardback of The Horde of Mhorrer will be officially published January 2009. There’s no detail on the Amazon page as yet, but the blurb will be based on the following (taken from my website):
For thousands of years a great secret has been kept: a hidden reservoir of terrifying power that if unleashed would enslave humanity or massacre it. This secret is known as the “Horde of Mhorrer.”
In 1820, thirty-three specially trained monks of the Church are sent to find the Horde before the agents of the evil Count Ordrane of Draak discover it first, in a race against time from Rome to the Sinai, battling their way past militiamen in a war-torn country, and finally the guardians of the Horde known as the Rassis Cult.
If the monks of the Church succeed, the clandestine war between Heaven and Hell will tip towards the forces of light. But if they fail, and the agents of darkness claim the Horde as their prize, Count Ordrane will release an army of two hundred and fifty invincible daemons upon this world.
To the ruin of all...
Coming January 2009 – The Horde of Mhorrer is the explosive and shocking sequel toThe Secret War
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Boomerangs, Snotgobblers and Oompa-Loompas
Biting off more than I can chew has always been a hobby of mine, but these days I seem to open my jaws a lot wider than I should to accommodate the writing projects that hurtle towards me. Some of these are boomerang projects – those books that have been tossed away, only to soar back into view with alarming regularity. The Secret War was a boomerang project, so I shouldn’t gripe about it, but it means new projects find themselves relegated or shelved because an old one is more attractive.
One such boomerang book is A World of Night, my first and only children’s book. A World of Night was written around the same time as my debut novel, yet while The Secret War did attract some interest from publishers and agents before I signed with Macmillan, A World of Night received naff all interest – that despite the enthusiastic response from all the kids (both big and small) who read it. I remember shelving the project with bewilderment, thinking “why aren’t agents taking the time to read this when everyone I know who has read it, enjoyed it thoroughly?” To be fair, I sent it to only three agents, but the replies were your typical bog-standard ‘couldn’t careless about what you sent’ replies, that I wondered if they had even bothered to read what I sent them. But that’s the sort of business we’re in.
And what a fickle business it is, especially children’s books. Being a published writer is difficult enough, but being a published children’s writer is nigh impossible! Since JK started writing about wizards, and P. Putnam started a trilogy about personal demons and compasses, it seems that everyone wants to be a children’s writer. The market is saturated, more so now that Harry Potter has shelved his spectacles. Everyone believes that they can replace Harry Potter, but I reckon we won’t see a phenomenon like this for another ten to fifteen years.
My excuse for dabbling in children’s books is not really commercial. Imaginative writing just feels purer when it’s written in a children’s book because you don’t have to put sex and violence in it to engage the reader. You don’t need baffling plot devices, you just need well drawn and exciting characters and have the same imagination as a child (which mine is - how else can I explain my World of Night creations, the Snotgobblers?). So it just seemed a natural progression to write a children’s book about all the things I loved as a kid.
It was the ‘biggest kid’ of all, Sarah, who finally persuaded me to tell my publishers, Macmillan, about A World of Night. I gave them a copy of the synopsis during my visit to London two weeks ago and they’ve asked for a final draft to send on to their children’s department (when they said that I got this technicolour image of the top floor at Macmillan Publishers on New Wharf Road, like something out of Charlie and the Chocolate factory but with books… kinda like Oompa-Loompas and humans creating everything from colourful singing and dancing books, to novels with arms that literally write themselves…).
So apart from writing the first draft of The Black Hours this year, I have to dust off A World of Night and give it a fine-tuning before I take it for a spin. I’m quite fortunate to have another potential novel on the go, but going back to the start of this blog entry, where do I find the time? My writing Other seems to be taking over my working Other, and my social Other, and try as I might, I just can’t occupy more than one space at any one time.
So Sarah is quite pleased Macmillan have taken an interest in A World of Night, but I’m not so sure she’ll be so pleased when I spend more and more time locked away in the study with two books on the go.
Hey, maybe I can find an Oompa-Loompa to help me…
One such boomerang book is A World of Night, my first and only children’s book. A World of Night was written around the same time as my debut novel, yet while The Secret War did attract some interest from publishers and agents before I signed with Macmillan, A World of Night received naff all interest – that despite the enthusiastic response from all the kids (both big and small) who read it. I remember shelving the project with bewilderment, thinking “why aren’t agents taking the time to read this when everyone I know who has read it, enjoyed it thoroughly?” To be fair, I sent it to only three agents, but the replies were your typical bog-standard ‘couldn’t careless about what you sent’ replies, that I wondered if they had even bothered to read what I sent them. But that’s the sort of business we’re in.And what a fickle business it is, especially children’s books. Being a published writer is difficult enough, but being a published children’s writer is nigh impossible! Since JK started writing about wizards, and P. Putnam started a trilogy about personal demons and compasses, it seems that everyone wants to be a children’s writer. The market is saturated, more so now that Harry Potter has shelved his spectacles. Everyone believes that they can replace Harry Potter, but I reckon we won’t see a phenomenon like this for another ten to fifteen years.
My excuse for dabbling in children’s books is not really commercial. Imaginative writing just feels purer when it’s written in a children’s book because you don’t have to put sex and violence in it to engage the reader. You don’t need baffling plot devices, you just need well drawn and exciting characters and have the same imagination as a child (which mine is - how else can I explain my World of Night creations, the Snotgobblers?). So it just seemed a natural progression to write a children’s book about all the things I loved as a kid.
It was the ‘biggest kid’ of all, Sarah, who finally persuaded me to tell my publishers, Macmillan, about A World of Night. I gave them a copy of the synopsis during my visit to London two weeks ago and they’ve asked for a final draft to send on to their children’s department (when they said that I got this technicolour image of the top floor at Macmillan Publishers on New Wharf Road, like something out of Charlie and the Chocolate factory but with books… kinda like Oompa-Loompas and humans creating everything from colourful singing and dancing books, to novels with arms that literally write themselves…).
So apart from writing the first draft of The Black Hours this year, I have to dust off A World of Night and give it a fine-tuning before I take it for a spin. I’m quite fortunate to have another potential novel on the go, but going back to the start of this blog entry, where do I find the time? My writing Other seems to be taking over my working Other, and my social Other, and try as I might, I just can’t occupy more than one space at any one time.
So Sarah is quite pleased Macmillan have taken an interest in A World of Night, but I’m not so sure she’ll be so pleased when I spend more and more time locked away in the study with two books on the go.
Hey, maybe I can find an Oompa-Loompa to help me…
Friday, March 07, 2008
What else happened in London last week
Well, I’ve already written about Aliya’s book launch, but there were ulterior motives for my jaunt down to the Big City last week. Chief among them was a meeting with Will Atkins (of MNW) and Julie Crisp (commissioning editor for Pan Macmillan). Julie has taken over editing chores on The Horde of Mhorrer, and after the intense revision of the final, final draft at the end of last year, I was a little nervous about the meeting: a) that she liked what I’d written, and b) there were no other major changes on the horizon.
I need not have worried…The good news is that there are no major changes needed for The Horde of Mhorrer, just a few nips and tucks (and a very pertinent continuity error involving gunpowder, which I can laugh about now but would have really irritated me if the book had gone into print with it in – so Julie’s already got a gold star from me on that one!)
And just as important to me, they think I’m developing well as a writer. I’ve already gone on record to say that I feel I’ve learnt more about my craft in the last two years than at any other time in writing life, so to hear that was a massive confidence boost. I came out of the meeting feeling relieved, assured and encouraged, which is everything a writer can ask for from a meeting with their editor.
(You know, I’ve been quite blessed with editors so far; first Mike Barnard, then Will Atkins and now Julie Crisp. And I know that not many writers mention their editors in their blogs, nor their newspaper articles, but hey… without them, the stories we write wouldn’t find their way onto bookshelves.)
The other good piece of news is that the publication date for The Horde of Mhorrer has been brought forward to January 2009. Pan Macmillan are also looking to publish the paperback of The Secret War alongside the hardback of The Horde of Mhorrer, so Christmas comes a little late/early depending on your point of view. I’ll be doing another book-launch in Sheffield (hopefully at Waterstones, Orchard Square, after the success of last year, but that needs to be confirmed) and I’m looking to make it a public event this time. I’m also tempted to do a London event too following the success of Aliya’s launch last week and other Goldsboro run events I’ve been to in the past. We’ll have to see.
So watch the skies, watch this blog.
Watch this space…
I need not have worried…The good news is that there are no major changes needed for The Horde of Mhorrer, just a few nips and tucks (and a very pertinent continuity error involving gunpowder, which I can laugh about now but would have really irritated me if the book had gone into print with it in – so Julie’s already got a gold star from me on that one!)
And just as important to me, they think I’m developing well as a writer. I’ve already gone on record to say that I feel I’ve learnt more about my craft in the last two years than at any other time in writing life, so to hear that was a massive confidence boost. I came out of the meeting feeling relieved, assured and encouraged, which is everything a writer can ask for from a meeting with their editor.
(You know, I’ve been quite blessed with editors so far; first Mike Barnard, then Will Atkins and now Julie Crisp. And I know that not many writers mention their editors in their blogs, nor their newspaper articles, but hey… without them, the stories we write wouldn’t find their way onto bookshelves.)
The other good piece of news is that the publication date for The Horde of Mhorrer has been brought forward to January 2009. Pan Macmillan are also looking to publish the paperback of The Secret War alongside the hardback of The Horde of Mhorrer, so Christmas comes a little late/early depending on your point of view. I’ll be doing another book-launch in Sheffield (hopefully at Waterstones, Orchard Square, after the success of last year, but that needs to be confirmed) and I’m looking to make it a public event this time. I’m also tempted to do a London event too following the success of Aliya’s launch last week and other Goldsboro run events I’ve been to in the past. We’ll have to see.
So watch the skies, watch this blog.
Watch this space…
Thursday, March 06, 2008
What are you doing on World Book Day?
What Halloween is to goblins, Valentines Day is to romantics and Christmas is to… er… Father Christmas and shop-owners, World Book Day is to writers. But how do writers celebrate World Book Day? Well, speaking personally, we don’t go round in fancy dress, and we don’t come bearing gifts.
It’s an odd thing, World Book Day, because for that brief moment in March, nothing changes. People still go to work, and people still read when they can. They might be tempted to buy a book when they wouldn’t have otherwise, but don’t count on enormous queues at the local Waterstone’s. The biggest change, if any, is that some schools might heavily promote World Book Day (you get free books if you’re a child, apparently), but then kids should always be encouraged to read – does it really need a specially designated day to do that?
And in the evening… Well, the UEFA cup is on, with several British sides playing so I guess some of us will be in the pub cheering on Everton or Spurs. Those who aren’t might be watching some rubbish on telly. Will any of us be reading? Hopefully, those children who got their free book, or adults who gave into a spontaneous purchase at WHSmiths or Blackwells, will sit down for a few minutes or longer to rediscover why reading is more entertaining than watching Hollyoaks or EastEnders or Crufts 2008.
So what will writers do on World Book Day? Will the world change for them? I think in most cases, no, it won’t. Nor will it provide much recognition for writers, barring a fleeting moment of belonging to a brief celebration of writing. But it’s not about celebrating writing, is it? It’s about keeping books in the conscious mind of people, and especially children, due to the decline of reading over the last twenty years.
Which is why I don’t find World Book Day anything to cheer about. The moment we have a World Playstation Day is the moment when reading has returned back to the top of pile and has no need for publicity, which is the sad part. Why should we need a designated day to publicise reading and books? (The answer is obvious, and sadly so).
But that’s the downside. There is an upside too though… I promise. For example, part of the Macmillan New Writers community, Eliza Graham, was nominated for a World Book Day award – “The Book to Talk About” – for her book, Playing with the Moon. Already Eliza's seen sales grow on the back of this - the publicity has been pretty good. So some published writers will benefit greatly from World Book Day.
Even though it’s artificially induced, World Book Day does stir debate on favourite authors, on new writing, and publishing as a whole, and you’ll probably never see a greater concentration of author events on any single day than World Book Day. And it’s not just constrained to today. World Book Day is something that sprawls over several days in some cases, (to be honest, they should designate it World Book Week). Don’t get me wrong, as a celebration of books and reading, this one is not shoddy.
So what will I be doing on World Book Day? Well, I’ll be at work. I might be reading, but it will be memos and letters thrown back and forth from senior management. I might get a chance to read on the bus to and from work, and probably a little in the evenings. I might even do a little bit of writing if time allows. World Book Day won’t change my world, personally, but if it reminds people about the magic of books, even just a handful of people, then it’s something pretty positive - despite being a day about the decline rather than the rise of reading.
Like I said, it’s an odd thing, World Book Day.
It’s an odd thing, World Book Day, because for that brief moment in March, nothing changes. People still go to work, and people still read when they can. They might be tempted to buy a book when they wouldn’t have otherwise, but don’t count on enormous queues at the local Waterstone’s. The biggest change, if any, is that some schools might heavily promote World Book Day (you get free books if you’re a child, apparently), but then kids should always be encouraged to read – does it really need a specially designated day to do that?
And in the evening… Well, the UEFA cup is on, with several British sides playing so I guess some of us will be in the pub cheering on Everton or Spurs. Those who aren’t might be watching some rubbish on telly. Will any of us be reading? Hopefully, those children who got their free book, or adults who gave into a spontaneous purchase at WHSmiths or Blackwells, will sit down for a few minutes or longer to rediscover why reading is more entertaining than watching Hollyoaks or EastEnders or Crufts 2008.
So what will writers do on World Book Day? Will the world change for them? I think in most cases, no, it won’t. Nor will it provide much recognition for writers, barring a fleeting moment of belonging to a brief celebration of writing. But it’s not about celebrating writing, is it? It’s about keeping books in the conscious mind of people, and especially children, due to the decline of reading over the last twenty years.
Which is why I don’t find World Book Day anything to cheer about. The moment we have a World Playstation Day is the moment when reading has returned back to the top of pile and has no need for publicity, which is the sad part. Why should we need a designated day to publicise reading and books? (The answer is obvious, and sadly so).
But that’s the downside. There is an upside too though… I promise. For example, part of the Macmillan New Writers community, Eliza Graham, was nominated for a World Book Day award – “The Book to Talk About” – for her book, Playing with the Moon. Already Eliza's seen sales grow on the back of this - the publicity has been pretty good. So some published writers will benefit greatly from World Book Day.
Even though it’s artificially induced, World Book Day does stir debate on favourite authors, on new writing, and publishing as a whole, and you’ll probably never see a greater concentration of author events on any single day than World Book Day. And it’s not just constrained to today. World Book Day is something that sprawls over several days in some cases, (to be honest, they should designate it World Book Week). Don’t get me wrong, as a celebration of books and reading, this one is not shoddy.
So what will I be doing on World Book Day? Well, I’ll be at work. I might be reading, but it will be memos and letters thrown back and forth from senior management. I might get a chance to read on the bus to and from work, and probably a little in the evenings. I might even do a little bit of writing if time allows. World Book Day won’t change my world, personally, but if it reminds people about the magic of books, even just a handful of people, then it’s something pretty positive - despite being a day about the decline rather than the rise of reading.
Like I said, it’s an odd thing, World Book Day.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Macmillan Communal Writers
Last Thursday I did the now-annual thing of taking a trip to London to do a bit of shopping, but more importantly to meet up with my editor (now two editors – Will Atkins and Julie Crisp) which usually coincides with a MNW book launch. This year it was Aliya Whiteley’s launch of Light Reading at Goldsboro books and the turn out was pretty good.
Neil Ayres, Ian Hocking and Roger Morris have all written great blog entries on the matter, so I’m not going to go over old ground too much, just that it was fantastic to see familiar faces – Len Tyler, Roger Morris, Cate Sweeney, Mike Barnard and David Headley (of Goldsboro Books) – as well as those I’ve never met before: Aliya – le grande author herself (who performed admirably in the face of tipsy writers and people craving a bit of her attention), Neil Ayres, Ian Hocking and Bruno Vincent (of Do Ants Have Arseholes? fame).
These kind of events are like weddings to me: you get to meet people you haven’t seen in ages, like distant family relatives, or people you’ve only had contact with over the phone or the internet. So when you meet them – in my case, with an ever refilling glass of wine in my hand (thank you, David) – I feel the overwhelming need to get into a long chat. And usually in my case, a chat that pretty much rambles depending on which part of the night you catch me – the later, the longer the ramble. The casualties of such an evening are that I don’t get to chat to everyone I’d like to (if Jonathan Drapes is reading this, my apologies for not getting around to have a natter – likewise, Sophie Portas).
As well as continuing conversations started on the blog with Roger and Len, I had some great conversations with the likes of Ian, Neil and Bruno. I’ve been reading Ian’s blog on and off for a while, but I didn’t recognise him with a full-beard – quite a disguise, Dr Hocking! Ian is a fantastic chap, and we had a good ol’ chat about writing full-time, kind of apt with Roger attending as well (the only full-time writer in the room, unless anyone can correct me).
By the time I got round to talking Neil, I was a little squiffy, so I might not have made too much sense at that point, but I hoped to convey the awe I felt of two people writing the same book over a great distance (and after meeting only a couple of times, to boot). It’s something I want to try doing when I get the time – with Dave Budd, a university friend of mine, keen writer and with the same fully warped imagination as me – so getting some tips from Neil and Aliya seemed like a good idea.
In Bruno Vincent's case we had great chat about his book, Do Ant’s have Arseholes? – which is a bit of a hit where I work, and I can see why after Bruno kindly sent me a signed copy in the post. It’s a bloody funny read, and something to dip into because I fear laughing out loud for several hours will either drive me hoarse or my wife – Sarah - to seek medical intervention.
Like everyone I chatted to, Bruno is a smashing guy, and there lies the beguiling nature of evenings such as this. As Ian states in his blog, there really weren’t any egos in the room, and that was wonderful. Perhaps it is because the writers in attendance have all just recently hatched, some of us still with flecks of egg-shells on our shiny coats, or perhaps it’s the people themselves. You read of writers with egos that just seem to inflate as their writing progresses, but part of me wonders if they ever had the community that Macmillan New Writing offers? And beyond that, really, because there are writers within this community who are not Macmillan New Writers at all but who are – and quite rightly - treated with the same amount of respect. It’s not a society I’m alluding to, and if it is there aren’t really any requirements for membership.
And I guess, for me, that was the common thread through all the conversations I had that night, from chatting in the basement at Goldsboro books, to around the table at the pub afterwards, there is an undiminished sense of community. A community that I think some suspected would fall away with the first tranche of Macmillan New Writers, but has gone on, evolving with every additional writer, new or old that takes a seat at the table.
My second and last book for Macmillan New Writing will be published in January 2009, and it will mark a big moment in my career which I hope will evolve on to Pan Macmillan and Tor.
But I won’t forget where I came from, nor those in the community, and will always ask someone to keep the chair at the new writers’ table warm for me – even if I’m away for just a little while.
Neil Ayres, Ian Hocking and Roger Morris have all written great blog entries on the matter, so I’m not going to go over old ground too much, just that it was fantastic to see familiar faces – Len Tyler, Roger Morris, Cate Sweeney, Mike Barnard and David Headley (of Goldsboro Books) – as well as those I’ve never met before: Aliya – le grande author herself (who performed admirably in the face of tipsy writers and people craving a bit of her attention), Neil Ayres, Ian Hocking and Bruno Vincent (of Do Ants Have Arseholes? fame).
These kind of events are like weddings to me: you get to meet people you haven’t seen in ages, like distant family relatives, or people you’ve only had contact with over the phone or the internet. So when you meet them – in my case, with an ever refilling glass of wine in my hand (thank you, David) – I feel the overwhelming need to get into a long chat. And usually in my case, a chat that pretty much rambles depending on which part of the night you catch me – the later, the longer the ramble. The casualties of such an evening are that I don’t get to chat to everyone I’d like to (if Jonathan Drapes is reading this, my apologies for not getting around to have a natter – likewise, Sophie Portas).
As well as continuing conversations started on the blog with Roger and Len, I had some great conversations with the likes of Ian, Neil and Bruno. I’ve been reading Ian’s blog on and off for a while, but I didn’t recognise him with a full-beard – quite a disguise, Dr Hocking! Ian is a fantastic chap, and we had a good ol’ chat about writing full-time, kind of apt with Roger attending as well (the only full-time writer in the room, unless anyone can correct me).
By the time I got round to talking Neil, I was a little squiffy, so I might not have made too much sense at that point, but I hoped to convey the awe I felt of two people writing the same book over a great distance (and after meeting only a couple of times, to boot). It’s something I want to try doing when I get the time – with Dave Budd, a university friend of mine, keen writer and with the same fully warped imagination as me – so getting some tips from Neil and Aliya seemed like a good idea.
In Bruno Vincent's case we had great chat about his book, Do Ant’s have Arseholes? – which is a bit of a hit where I work, and I can see why after Bruno kindly sent me a signed copy in the post. It’s a bloody funny read, and something to dip into because I fear laughing out loud for several hours will either drive me hoarse or my wife – Sarah - to seek medical intervention.
Like everyone I chatted to, Bruno is a smashing guy, and there lies the beguiling nature of evenings such as this. As Ian states in his blog, there really weren’t any egos in the room, and that was wonderful. Perhaps it is because the writers in attendance have all just recently hatched, some of us still with flecks of egg-shells on our shiny coats, or perhaps it’s the people themselves. You read of writers with egos that just seem to inflate as their writing progresses, but part of me wonders if they ever had the community that Macmillan New Writing offers? And beyond that, really, because there are writers within this community who are not Macmillan New Writers at all but who are – and quite rightly - treated with the same amount of respect. It’s not a society I’m alluding to, and if it is there aren’t really any requirements for membership.
And I guess, for me, that was the common thread through all the conversations I had that night, from chatting in the basement at Goldsboro books, to around the table at the pub afterwards, there is an undiminished sense of community. A community that I think some suspected would fall away with the first tranche of Macmillan New Writers, but has gone on, evolving with every additional writer, new or old that takes a seat at the table.
My second and last book for Macmillan New Writing will be published in January 2009, and it will mark a big moment in my career which I hope will evolve on to Pan Macmillan and Tor.
But I won’t forget where I came from, nor those in the community, and will always ask someone to keep the chair at the new writers’ table warm for me – even if I’m away for just a little while.
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