Crikey. It's been nearly a year since I last blogged. Strangely it's not because it's been quiet on the writing front either. Anything but. It's time, really. When you factor the writing, the social media, such as twitter, forums etc and general life, it's given me zilch time to get my blogging done.
So it's been almost a year. Sheesh.
So what's happened? Plenty. I've had another book accepted for publication that's due out this year or early next. The book, provisionally titled The Isles of Sheffield, will be published by those good people at Editions Didier, part of the Hachette Livre Group, and the second book under my new editor Rupert Morgan. It's a dystopian/ eco-apocalypse novel, and the first to be set in my home-city of Sheffield. Once I'm in the position of saying more, I'll post more stuff about it here.
I'm also in the process of renovating the website. I've decided to move homes mainly because the new home gives me better access and I can update stuff real-time rather than rely on the goodwill of others as time will allow. Stir Creative did a brilliant job on the original site, but I need to be more hands on, so that's another project that's taking my time.
I'm also writing (would you expect anything less?). I'm in the middle of writing a 160,000 word story set in the future which is entertaining me no end, and I'm writing a horror novel (my first) between drafts.
Unfortunately with the good news, comes the bad.
Last year, my agent Dorothy Lumley died. This is the first time I've written publicly about it, because her death caught me by surprise in more ways than I expected. Regular readers here will know that I became Dorothy's client a couple of years back. While I was represented by Dorothy for a relatively short time before her death, she had supported me before then. As an aspiring writer, it was Dorothy who offered advice and guidance, while other agents were sending back standard rejection letters and no advice at all. But more importantly, she encouraged me. When all in publishing appeared to keep the door firmly shut, Dorothy told me to keep going.
And I did.
And eventually I was published.
When I left Macmillan Publishers a few years back, feeling a little directionless, Dorothy was there again. This time she took me on officially as one of her clients. It was unfortunate that the only time we officially worked together, would prove to be her last years on Earth.
I found out last summer that Dorothy had cancer and, unbeknown to me, had been battling it while she was working with me. The cancer was taking her fast. The news upset me greatly. Selfishly, I felt I'd been deprived of getting to know a wonderful person, someone who had confidence in me, and supported me. I admit, I felt lost again.
Dorothy died late last year. And yet, since her death I haven't felt lost. I haven't let myself be. It would be a disservice to everything she told me to suddenly lose direction again. So I haven't let all her words of encouragement leave me, nor her advice and confidence in me.
In the time we were agent and client, Dorothy wasn't able to close a book deal. The two books that were published, I managed to arrange myself (to Dorothy's bemusement!). She showed me that I can do some of these things myself and to have confidence in my abilities.
But publishing isn't just about the agent who will sort out the contract, who will negotiate the royalties or rights sales. Nor are they just the editor who gives your work a critical eye. An agent is, in many respects, a mentor, supporter, and friend.
For me, losing Dorothy was losing that friend. And I will miss her.
So it's been almost a year. Sheesh.
So what's happened? Plenty. I've had another book accepted for publication that's due out this year or early next. The book, provisionally titled The Isles of Sheffield, will be published by those good people at Editions Didier, part of the Hachette Livre Group, and the second book under my new editor Rupert Morgan. It's a dystopian/ eco-apocalypse novel, and the first to be set in my home-city of Sheffield. Once I'm in the position of saying more, I'll post more stuff about it here.
I'm also in the process of renovating the website. I've decided to move homes mainly because the new home gives me better access and I can update stuff real-time rather than rely on the goodwill of others as time will allow. Stir Creative did a brilliant job on the original site, but I need to be more hands on, so that's another project that's taking my time.
I'm also writing (would you expect anything less?). I'm in the middle of writing a 160,000 word story set in the future which is entertaining me no end, and I'm writing a horror novel (my first) between drafts.
Unfortunately with the good news, comes the bad.
Last year, my agent Dorothy Lumley died. This is the first time I've written publicly about it, because her death caught me by surprise in more ways than I expected. Regular readers here will know that I became Dorothy's client a couple of years back. While I was represented by Dorothy for a relatively short time before her death, she had supported me before then. As an aspiring writer, it was Dorothy who offered advice and guidance, while other agents were sending back standard rejection letters and no advice at all. But more importantly, she encouraged me. When all in publishing appeared to keep the door firmly shut, Dorothy told me to keep going.
And I did.
And eventually I was published.
When I left Macmillan Publishers a few years back, feeling a little directionless, Dorothy was there again. This time she took me on officially as one of her clients. It was unfortunate that the only time we officially worked together, would prove to be her last years on Earth.
I found out last summer that Dorothy had cancer and, unbeknown to me, had been battling it while she was working with me. The cancer was taking her fast. The news upset me greatly. Selfishly, I felt I'd been deprived of getting to know a wonderful person, someone who had confidence in me, and supported me. I admit, I felt lost again.
Dorothy died late last year. And yet, since her death I haven't felt lost. I haven't let myself be. It would be a disservice to everything she told me to suddenly lose direction again. So I haven't let all her words of encouragement leave me, nor her advice and confidence in me.
In the time we were agent and client, Dorothy wasn't able to close a book deal. The two books that were published, I managed to arrange myself (to Dorothy's bemusement!). She showed me that I can do some of these things myself and to have confidence in my abilities.
But publishing isn't just about the agent who will sort out the contract, who will negotiate the royalties or rights sales. Nor are they just the editor who gives your work a critical eye. An agent is, in many respects, a mentor, supporter, and friend.
For me, losing Dorothy was losing that friend. And I will miss her.
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