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After months of having absolutely nothing to talk about, no books or news of any kind, I finally have lots to say. Here's the lowdown:
Oh and I'm going to have a redesign of this website in the near future (but we've all heard that before).
Phew. That's it. Message ends. Come back in a bit for more specific updates.
I might also find the time to talk about the massive edits and changes I made to Summoner Chronicles and how a good editor can make all the difference.
I first decided I wanted to be a writer back in 1986. I was sixteen and I’d just read Graham Masterton’s Night Warriors. It influenced me so much, and the sheer fact that someone could write something so wonderful and terrifying and imaginative inspired me to write my own book. It was, of course, awful, and shall never see the light of day, but I‘ve never looked back or wanted to do anything else but write.
I never tried to get my first novel published, in fact I can’t even remember its name (OK, maybe I can but even the title is embarrassing, so humour me), but my first taste of the arduous process of getting published when I met terry Brooks in Waterstones, Leeds. It was 1988 and he was at that time one of the worlds’s best selling fantasy authors... yet no one came to see him.
So I took advantage of that fact and spent a half hour chatting to him, to learn my first great lesson: the road to publishing is long, and no one will help you. Ever. If you want to become a writer you have to do it all entirely on your own.
This sobering thought had stayed with me for twenty years, and up to this day has remained true. No one, not friends, colleagues, or professionals, have helped me get published (even people in positions where they really could have given me a push in the right direction). Getting manuscripts to the people that count is a Herculean effort, and one I’ve had to do alone. Like me, you'll need to rely on luck and cunning, and pretty much all your skills to get your foot in the door.
I’m not going to talk about rejection today. That’s a story for another time after a few gin and tonics. Stephen King once said he had a six inch nail full of rejection letter before he got his first story published. While I’ve had a bit more general success, my rejection letters could keep a bonfire lit for a week. They’re in a box upstairs. I go look at them when I think I’m getting just a bit too cheerful. But I don’t ever open the lid - therein lies wallowing and much misery - I merely stare at the box. That’s sobering enough for even the perkiest of High School Musical fans.
Getting published these days is nearly impossible. It’s a nightmare just getting a commissioning editor to read your work and you can’t get an agent until you’ve been published, and few publishers will want to see your work unless solicited via an agent. It’s a chicken and egg situation for which there are few solutions.
So, if you can get someone to help you on your long and personal journey to publishing, whether it’s providing you with contacts or even setting up a meeting, then you’re far luckier than I. This industry is focused entirely on who you know. Outwardly, the publishing companies will tell you they’re not taking on any new authors, but come Spring each year there’s a slew of new writers on shelves.
What the publishers really mean is that they’re not taking on any new authors they don’t know, or, far more commonly, haven’t had sex with.
Yes. It all boils down to sex.
As you can see, this is the tone of my new column, and I’ll be updating it with some of the unfortunate things I’ve had the pleasure of encountering on my long journey to authordom. That's not actually a word but this is the only place in the world where someone can reject my work because it's too long, too short, not strong enough, too bold, too rude, too confusing, too, oh you get the idea.
I've been thinking a lot over the past few months about this column, and how the hits to it have diminished dramatically since the days of X Factor 2007, and I realise it's because it completely lacks direction. It's just an unmitigated bunch of drivel from my mind.
So I'm going to regroup. I'm going to leave this column entirely devoted to writing, to give people an insight into my thought processes and where I am with things, and I'm going to start a new column dedicated to all things that I love, like movies, games, and reviews (I miss the reviews).
So, I'll be back soon with a new style column here. I might even use a completely new blogging program. I have a great name for my new column, so I'll announce it soon.
But I really DO need to focus, and the vast array of unconnected posts here just isn't appealing to anyone.
How naughty - and yet so amusing...
Look ma, cute bunnies!!!
It's impossible not to talk about the inauguration of Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States.
The African American has an awful lot of work ahead of him. With expectations so high for this new world of promised change, I wonder how he can possibly live up to expectations.
In his inauguration speech he said a lot of things about changing the world, about denying terrorism, and I hope he makes some great changes to the most powerful nation in the world.
Mind you, whatever he does, even if he sits on his ass and does absolutely bugger all for his tenure, he can't possibly be a worse President than George W Bush.
The world needed a new, fresh President and we have that.
Obama offered hope and sacrifice in his first speech; we can only see what he will do next. I've never seen anything that has polarised the world quite as much as this election has, and with a global recession and so many problems, can the new President ever meet the challenges ahead of him? With the Bush tenure behind us, the next few months are going to be exceptionally interesting indeed.
I wish the new President all the best in this most difficult of times.
I'm hard at work finishing Diary of a Murderer, although I'm considering changing the book's title to Memoirs of a Murderer (as Diary sounds like something from Sue Townsend's Adrian Mole). I originally wanted to write the book as a series of diary pages, but a retrospective on the life of the main character is flowing much more nicely (nicelier?).
So, Memoirs it is, and aside from putting myself off food with some truly grotesque parts (even in the early chapters), things are going quite smoothly.
I've also discovered that my spelling while writing is appalling; I make no attempt to get it right the first time - I just want to get it all down on paper. That might not be of interest to anyone, but I thought I'd mention it as a part of my own creative process. I need to go back and spell check every page before I even start the editing process. Again, with this novel, I'm going to get it all written first before I go back and edit it all. I usually leave it to stand for a month or two after the first pass, and I end up writing whole sections again anyway (apparently that's very common for writers).
Anyway, there you go. I'll come back in a day or two and update you again. But what do you think, Diary or Memoirs?
Which has the better ring to it?
I vaguely remember when this column was about my writing (remember that? Yeah, me neither).
Well, now 2008 (AKA the Year of Hell) is over, I can concentrate on new (and some old) stuff.
I am now hard at work finishing Diary of a Murderer - which I want to complete as quickly as possible as it's giving me nightmares (no, really). It's a grisly piece of fiction which I'm sure will push all kinds of buttons in the more reprehensible of my readers.
I've also been back to revisit Summoner Chronicles. I've been holding off doing anything with it because I felt something was missing. It wasn't quite right. It didn't read right or flow properly. So, after the nightmare realisation that the opening page was utter <censored> I'm going to go back and rewrite some of the key scenes to give it better pacing and to make it the creepy kids' story it was supposed to be.
Once I've done that I'm going to finally complete The Great War. I've now written both the opening and closing chapters, so there's only another 48 to go! Hey, that's one chapter per year! Result! I'm struggling with it, mainly because I know once it's over that's it. But it'll be done this year - unless something major happens which requires my attention elsewhere.
I also found two boxes of books that mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, so I'm going to sell a few of them online (look for link here soon) - making it easier for people to get hold of them in those hard to reach places (like Europe and America).
It's not exactly high brow TV, but Knight Rider 2008 really has sunk to an all time low. Back for the last few episodes of season 1, the show (cut down to just 17 episodes) has stumbled from bad to worse.
The latest episode, Don't Stop the Knight, is the latest in a long string of pointless and
extremely dull storylines, devoid of style, character or excitement.
I hate the fact that every episode has Knight in the title; I hate the superfluous characters with their cutesy storylines; I loathe the one-story-only script that has permeated every episode. The show is just so formulaic: Michael has to stop a terrorist / group of rebels / someone with a large explosive / hi-tech device - and that's about it. There's really not a lot more going on here.
Is there hope on the horizon? Well, maybe... The producers have promised a reboot (yes kids, another) for the last few episodes, but the fact remains that, like the ailing Heroes, not a lot can stop this show from falling into oblivion. It's a shining example of the lack of vision and writing talent employed on many American shows.
Just how hard would it be to get Knight Rider right? You follow the basic formula of the '80's show and you can't go far wrong, right?
That's clearly not the case, as the new show has all the style, wit and excitement of Sinclair C5 racing.
Now, there's a show we'd ALL pay to see: C5 Rider! With a top speed of 15 miles per hour, it'd be high-octane thrills the whole 45 minutes.
I'm incensed beyond reason today, as abusive dog owner, Joy Batison of Northampton, was sentenced yesterday in Northampton County Court for the gross neglect of her dog, Hobo.
Hobo suffered months of abuse, and thankfully, the RSPCA was finally called. They were going to put Hobo to sleep, but he amazingly made a full recovery...
This disgusting woman showed little remorse for her crime received a ban from owning pets for 25 years and ordered to pay just two hundred and fifty pounds in Court costs.
I find that a shameful and unacceptable sentence that in no way reflects the cruelty, abuse and neglect this poor defenseless pooch suffered at the hands of this wicked woman. I wonder if the results had been different, had Hobo been a child, but the thinking seems very different for animals.
Well, the bitch got away with it, and this sentence did nothing to deter others. A pitiful fine basically says: do as you will to animals, all you'll get is a crappy slap on the wrist.
Until the system is changed, animals will continue to be farmed and abused. This case could have been a major precedent and awakening in animal cruelty; instead it's been brushed under the carpet.
Well, Joy, I sincerely hope you get what you deserve, as if the justice system can't deliver (and we know only too well that it can't), then I truly hope karma can.
