Please leave a recorded greeting after the beep…

“Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? Oh. Right. I’m not in at the moment. I’ve gone to London to seek fame and fortune. Like Dick Whittington. Or Puss in Boots. Without the whiskers. I’ll be back soon. No, really I will. Oh by the way, this message thing has a habit of cutting you off mid-se

Scholarly Achievement

Christ, I feel washed out...
I know that’s not the best choice of words considering I’ve just returned from teaching creative writing to three classes of kids at a Catholic School, but hey – I really am a bit knackered. This is the first time I’ve taught creative writing to anyone, let alone three classes of teenagers, and while it went very well considering (considering it was done largely on the hoof and without any prior experience) it was a tiring day – though I admit this was probably compounded by the severe lack of sleep during the previous week (just training for fatherhood, you see). Despite that, and despite being a little nerve-wracking in the preparation, I’m very glad that I did it.
As a publicity event i.e. selling books, it didn’t do so well, but then in retrospect that perhaps wasn’t the point. I could have done the hard sell - it could have been just about the books, but I kept pulling back from that. I thought it was too good an opportunity to impart some experience of writing and how I write, rather than what I write, to children with a love for writing and reading.
I wanted to give something back, you see.

Many years ago, I remember a number of poets and writers coming to our school and doing similar things. Mostly they were a massive benefit (apart from one poet who insisted on preaching her politics through the entire session and I learnt pretty much nothing about writing or poetry at all). It was fantastic just to have someone there, who had a career in something I truly loved doing - outside of school as well as in lessons. As Hagelrat mentioned in the comments to the previous blog entry, back then not many writers went to schools. That these writers chose our school to visit, I believed was a privilege. It was inspiring to listen to them, to be near them, to have an example of writing for a living right there in the class-room just a few yards away.
It felt real.

But on Monday I didn’t want it to be just real. I also wanted to help, to tell the pupils that I was pretty much like them at their age, and with determination I’ve got to where I am. To show how it is possible to find inspiration from anything, even the ordinary; to write effective momentum in prose; that knowing the conventions of genre is important so that you can break those rules. And more importantly, to believe in one’s self and one’s writing, even at that age. By all accounts, and by what the students were saying to their teachers after the lessons, I achieved that – or rather I achieved that with massive assistance from Lee Harris, who articulated my thoughts perhaps better than I could mumble.

But it doesn’t end there. The short stories that were started during those lessons may (or may not) become part of the pupils’ final GCSE course-work, so I’ll be interested to see how that goes. And on top of that, I’ve agreed that pupils from St Edmunds can send me their short stories. As a rule I don’t tend to read stories submitted direct to me via the blog or website because I simply don’t have the time to read them (maybe if I become a full-time writer, I can change that policy - I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep), but this is different because by holding the creative writing lessons on Monday, I’ve already opened the doors to this school and they are talented kids.

If I can inspire just one of them to pursue a career in writing, then I’ve really achieved something.

Black Hours Diary no.17: And… breathe…

As of last night, my Facebook status reads: “Matt has completed the Black Hours, and demands booze as his reward” or something like that.
One friend got the wrong end of the stick and wrote: “Boo, hiss, boo” until they worked out it was a different type of boo(sic)ze… (thanks, Glyn).

Anyway, I’m digressing. The point is I’ve completed the third and - near as dammit - final draft of The Black Hours before it goes to my publisher. As Dave Budd said to me this morning, I “seemed to get through it in record time”. Usually that’s the sign of a half-arsed attempt at something – a rush job, and you couldn’t blame me for rushing once I discovered fatherhood was beckoning in April. But, you know, it wasn’t rushed. And it isn’t that short a novel either, about 135,000 words. It just flowed. It did everything I wanted it to, and is everything I wanted it to be.
It simply worked.

Which is great.
And not so great.

Great, because when I send it to Macmillan next week, I’ll be a little confident about it and while I will still worry (hey, I’m a paranoid, human writer – give me a break here!) I won’t be pulling out my hair thinking “will this sink my career?” I’ve said it before, if I’m wrong about The Black Hours, I’ll hold up my hands and start over again. It will be a little knock, but I have two more Secret War books to think about.

But it’s not so great in terms of the diary entries in this blog. Because really there is little more to say on the subject. There is no conflict. There is no tragedy (yet). And I am pretty pleased. I’m more hopeful than I was with The Secret War, and The Hoard of Mhorrer. I think this project will be mercifully short. And hopefully, published.

Mmmmm.

Mmmmm.

What more is there to say on the book?
Well, not a lot more to be fair, until I hear back from Macmillan. I’m off to the Midlands at the weekend where I’ll be teaching pupils at a local school ‘’how I do what I do’, and ‘why I do what I do’. I might even test a couple of pages of The Black Hours on them – see what they think.
Kids are the shrewdest critics you’ll find, so if they think it sucks, I should get a good idea what Macmillan think!

So until then… Where’s my booze?!!

The Liar

I have problems telling the truth. I know I do, because when it comes to composing a thousand words of facts and opinions on this blog, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to do so. Blogger’s block, if you will. While in the fictional world, I can turn out anything between 3-4000 words of prose without breaking a sweat.
I’m just more adept at telling lies and made-up stuff.

I can’t hide the fact that I’d rather be telling you about how London burned today, or how my major character is falling in love with the woman he vowed to protect. I want to tell you about five enigmatic warriors who have lost their way, who have lied to themselves for more than a millennium to the folly of all humanity. I want to tell you that there is a man called William Saxon who is about to lose everything he has ever loved.
I want to tell you story.

But this blog is not the place to tell it. It’s a place of truths, more than fiction. And I have two truths to say, so here they are:

The first truth, is that I’m quite confident about The Black Hours in a way that I wasn’t with The Secret War or The Hoard of Mhorrer, so when I send it to Macmillan in just over a week, I won’t be thinking “bloody hell, what if they don’t like it?” It means if they do reject it, it will be a hammer blow for sure – but I’m not going to cover this book with false modesty. I promised a truth, and here it is: The Black Hours is the best book I’ve ever written. Full stop.
We’ll see if Macmillan feels the same way…

The second truth is that good and bad reviews keep rolling in for The Secret War. In a way, the criticisms of the first book feel a little removed now. After all, the book was first published in January 2007, and I finished writing it in spring 2006, so about three years have distanced me from the novel. I’ve written two books during that time so the criticism doesn’t feel so close now. Praise, on the other hand, is something I will rush back three years for. These days I can afford to cherry pick what I listen to and read – it’s my right as the author. Who says writers can’t be arrogant and stubborn?

So there you go, I’ve managed a couple of truths. It’s the first step on the road to being a reformed compulsive liar. You see, I am a fraud. It’s what I do.
It’s my job to make things up. To spin lies and tales.

This whole telling the truth-malarky, gets a bit tiring, I can tell you…

Desert Island Discs

Over on VeggieBox, Aliya Whiteley has posted her “Desert Island Discs” (or rather she’s posted them here on her updated website), but has challenged her visitors to come up with theirs.

So without too much faffing and pretension here we go:

1. Elusive – Scott Matthews (pure urban genius)

2. Eleanor Rigby – The Beatles (slice of childhood story-telling)

3. Marrakesh - New Model Army (something a little real to hang onto)

4. Today Tomorrow Sometime Never – Echobelly (indie angst that you want to toss your hair around to – if I still had some to toss!)

5. Ashes to Ashes – David Bowie (another blast from childhood – spellbinding)

6. Gods Country – U2 (reminds me of our Oz adventure in 2002-2003)

7. Venice Queen – Red Hot Chilli Peppers (sublime exit music)

8. Theme to the movie “Hero” – Tan Dun (because there’s something utterly absorbing, melancholy and epic about it – kinda like the film)

9. Shape of my Heart – Sting (partly because it’s a damn fine song, partly because it was the closing music to a damn fine movie – “Leon”)

10. Losing my Religion – REM (the soundtrack of my university and college days)

My luxury would be the laptop and a self-renewing battery – writing would be the only thing that could keep me sane.

My book of choice would be Weaveworld by Clive Barker.

Okay. Done that. Now back to the writing again (no time off for good behaviour here – even on a Saturday… Well maybe an hour later to watch the football…)

Trumpets

I don’t do much trumpet blowing – it’s not really the point of this blog, so when good reviews come my way I tend to enjoy them in private - just as I rant and rage behind close doors at a bad review (just joking… though it does darken my mood a little if a critic doesn’t like what I’ve written).
However, someone close to me advised that while the website and the blog are of interest to me creatively, they should also be used as positive advertising. “Get some bloody reviews on there!” they said, so I have. In fact, I’ll be sticking them to the right of here, under the books themselves (“What they said…”).

Where I can, I’ll put links to the entire reviews for people to read them at their leisure, or links to the magazines where the reviews herald from. But for ease of reading, I’ve cobbled a few of these quotes together below for both books (just a few, mind, still a little shy about these things – don’t like to blow the trumpet too loud…):

FOR THE SECRET WAR


“It's well written and well paced with the mud & blood of battle coming through strongly without obsessing over the gore. …it's an excellent read and thoroughly absorbing.” Un:Bound

“Curran has produced a debut novel that’s tremendous fun…” Historical Novels Review

“The Secret War is well written and an easy page-turner…” Chronicles

“…Worth the read if you like your warfare bloody and brutal… ‘The Secret War’ ended up being one of those books that I pick up, on a whim, and find myself really enjoying. There’s nothing too deep here but there is plenty to keep you hooked and involved. I’m looking forward to reading the sequel very soon.” Graeme’s Fantasy Book Review

FOR THE HOARD OF MHORRER

“Curran is obviously an exciting new talent in the science-fiction and fantasy scene… his prose is crisp and well-formed, moving at a decent enough pace to sustain momentum during the quieter moments, exploding into action scenes that have a visceral sense of momentum about them.” Sci-Fi Now Magazine

Anyway. Enough trumpet blowing for this morning. Books don’t write themselves, now, do they?

London Pictures

Here's a few photos from the London Launch at Goldsboro Books last month... More to come in a couple of weeks...

My thanks to Nicole, Louise and Simon for these...

Black Hours diary entry no 16: Because it's snowing

... And here are a couple of photos that are not from the London launch. I guess writing is one of those things that isn't hampered by unusual amounts of snow (unless you have kids and school is cancelled), so I better return to the keyboard. It's 9:15am and I haven't written a word!!!