Restraint and the art of Adaptation

Last Friday I met my publisher. I had preconceptions about how the meeting would go, and how I hoped it would go; and I suppose it won’t surprise many writers reading this that it didn’t go quite the way I planned. In one fell swoop I saw immediate plans go up into little flames. But you know what they say about best laid plans? Well stick a phoenix in there and perhaps you’ll come close to how the meeting proceeded.

So what happened? Well, I went into the meeting hoping to steer it one way – letting my imagination boil over with possibilities – but my publisher reined me in and forced me to focus. I felt like a pupil with a talent for running. Before me is the longest running track in the world. It stretches forever, is straight, flat, and the surface is smooth to the eye, like new tarmac. It is, quite frankly, the perfect running track. And I just want to run. And run my way. I want to feel the air slapping my face, the sun against my skin, the muscles in my legs working flat out. I want to feel the exhilaration. And I don’t want to stop, letting only my instincts guide me. I don’t see the traps, the elements of danger that could so easily halt my progress.
But my publisher does.
The publisher knows there are cracks along the way; there are parts where the track sinks, where razor-sharp undergrowth curls through pits in the surface, its fronds snaring all unsuspecting runners. And my publisher does what any publisher would do – it reins me in, even if I personally don’t see the reasons why at first.

You see, I’m being “grown”. That’s the official stance at Macmillan. They are trying to turn me into a brand name, much the same way Brian McGilloway has been. Our compost is a series of books – Brian has Inspector Devlin, I have William Saxon. It’s necessary to make that point from the off because unwittingly my first two books are down to one character rather than the themed series that the character inhabits. I always believed that I was writing Secret War-themed books, yet in fact by wrapping the first two books around the flawed character of William Saxon, I’ve caught myself writing William Saxon books instead, which makes a whole lot of difference in how you’re perceived by publishers and readers. I have inadvertently created conventions for my writing, which are now wrapped up in expectation.

The Traitor of Light was to be a departure from this. Too big a departure as I found out. Firstly, William Saxon would have been relegated to but a dozen pages or so, in a 300 page book. Secondly, the main protagonists would have been the “faux” deus ex machina – the Dar’uka - rather than the more imperfect and vulnerable human characters of the first two novels.I had planned to see these enigmatic killing machines reduced to flawed and ignorant gods that had just as many cracks as their mortal counterparts. I wanted to write their histories behind their inner-conflicts. I wanted to send the reader back to 15th century South America, to a time of genocide and reluctant heroes, and then to the surface of Mars itself for a battle between angels and demons.

I really wanted to send the reader to Hell… But these plans amounted to a very different Secret War novel.

Apart from William Saxon being largely absent, it would have been more Sci-Fi/Fantasy than Historical Adventure too. And that’s not all; stylistically it would be different (third person and present tense perspectives in one novel), yet ultimately it would be dispensable, and here’s where the final nail lands: ultimately you wouldn’t need to read The Traitor of Light before reading The Fortress of Black Glass.

Logically, then, it didn’t need to be written. My initial reaction to the proposal to dump book 3 was bewilderment and just a little frustration. I had readers who wanted me to write a Dar’uka book. I wanted to write a Dar’uka book, and I wanted a challenge stylistically. I didn’t want to feel I was writing the same thing over and over, feeling it would descend past tongue in cheek (which it is in parts) to complete parody. I am a new writer. I need to grow, but I need to grow down the path that interests me.

I guess they were my first thoughts. But now I can see what’s happened and why my publisher sought to shelve The Traitor of Light.

Being a new writer – a new writer who has embarked on a series of genre novels - doesn’t mean I have the freedom to reinvent myself at will; and breaking a formula so soon in a series pretty much does that. It throws a burgeoning readership a curve ball, one they might not catch. It’s a risk too far. A career-breaking risk, and one Macmillan are reluctant to make, and one that really, I don’t have to make. Like I said, you could read The Fortress of Black Glass without having to read The Traitor of Light. The Traitor of Light is a companion book, and taking a risk on a companion book is probably a daft thing to do even though it goes against my writing instincts (could I have pulled it off? I liked to think so…).

So for the first time – and probably not the last – I have broken from my instincts and gone with experience. My publisher isn’t trying to hold me back, they have too much invested in me to do so, and Macmillan has over a hundred years experience from being one of the biggest publishers in the business, while I have but two years, give or take. And it’s for those reasons that the next book I write will be The Fortress of Black Glass.

It wasn’t the plan I had in mind, but I’ve learned that plans rarely remain intact. In this game, they are protean and those who plan them have to be protean as well, having to adapt and restrain themselves.

The Black Hours is also part of that change – a book that was written outside the schedule and is at the moment on the margins looking in, feeling a little precarious because it doesn’t fit my brand name, but hoping at some point to be part of it, or have a brand-name of its own. Macmillan are reading it and will make a decision soon, but whether or not it will see publication will depend largely on the strategy they have in mind for me. It’s quite possible that The Black Hours will see publication after The Fortress of Black Glass, or if it is published before, it will go under the nom de plume of “Frank Wallace” to let it stand out from the Secret War books.
That’s all dependent, of course, on whether they like it – I was never contracted to write The Black Hours, but I’m hopeful. And using a different moniker isn’t all bad.

In fact, it could be a blessing.

A pseudonym enables me to embark on other series (such as Smith, Stranded Rooms, The Last Trilogy etc) but still have the freedom to break away to write one-offs (such as The Necromancers, Three Dead Boys, Chapel Hulme Welcomes Careful Drivers etc) while mid-series. Sure, it’s not “MFW Curran”, but it’s still the same writer. It’s still me.
As a creative writer I admit to feeling a tad frustrated. But as an author looking for a career in writing, pragmatically I don’t – I feel relieved, because my publisher really wants to continue this relationship, and is trying their damnedest to rein me back for mine and their benefit, i.e. to guarantee success and a long career.

To demonstrate this, they have made me a proposal: by Autumn this year I will have penned the first chapters of The Fortress of Black Glass and a 20 page synopsis. If that confirms what they already suspect – that they have a monster ending to the Secret War books - Macmillan will offer me a contract, and probably an advance, to complete the trilogy. It’s a great position to be in – an enviable position.

And it doesn’t mean The Traitor of Light will never see the, er, light of day either. It could be a project I slice down into novellas or short stories, that I write when I can, getting published where I can, in the independent press probably. I really like the idea of penning a Dar’uka novella or anthology, and I think time will be the only obstacle getting that done eventually. It just means adapting my previous plans, that’s all.

So the running track is before me. I know where the cracks are now. Macmillan has cut away the threatening undergrowth, and it looks as smooth as ever. They will release me to run my way eventually. But I’m new. I’m inexperienced, and sometimes, no matter how frustrating it feels, there are reasons for restraint.

I just need to learn to adapt, that’s all.