Finishing a Draft

I’ve completed the first draft of my new novel and I feel drained. There’s been no huge rush to it, no deadline, it’s not even under contract, but it’s left me completely drained, more than the ones that have gone before it.

Why, I wondered last night? What was so different about this? It had been very hard to write in parts, quite emotional, and trying to convey what my characters were thinking without going over the top was a challenge. That was part of it, certainly. But more than that, it’s a book that’s taken me into some very dark places inside myself and forced me to explore them. I’m told that my novels are quite dark, although I’m not sure I’ve always seen it. This time, however, I wanted to look into the shadows, and it appears I’ve succeeded. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. There can be plenty of truth in those places. And without truth there’s no point to a novel.

Now I’ve put the book aside for a month. There are plenty of things that need to be changed in it, and small additions, changes to language, and all the other things a revision does. I’ll have a better idea of how well it all works when I read it through. For now, my brain is pretty much on empty. And I’m glad.

Reflective

As I prepare to head off to Derby tomorrow to sell copies of The Broken Token to an unsuspecting Derbyshire public, I’m feeling mild contentment. Not only did I receive my first royalties on the book today, yesterday I signed and sent off the contracts for the next two books in the series.

Knowing that the publishing future is secure for the next couple of years is a relief, and that someone, somewhere, likes these books and believes in them enough to pay me money to write them is a real vindication. Will they sell in huge amounts? Probably not, but that’s fine. If each one builds a new audience then in time they’ll attract a crowd rather than a gaggle and life will be good.

One thing I have concluded is that writing is a craft, in the same way that designing and constructing fine furniture is. You need to have the idea in your head and the ability to put it together. That’s skill, yes, from some small glimmer of inspiration, and that’s what all writing is.

We learn from everything we do, and writers also learn from all that they write, especially when you have a good editor. I’ve been lucky to have a few, particularly for my music writing, who’ve improved my work tremendously. I have an excellent editor for my novels, and I’m grateful to all of those who’ve worked hard to help. I’m lucky, too, in having a close friend who’s the best writer I know, and who reads my novels and offers suggestions that always improve them (I do the same for him, but whether I improve his work or not, I’m not sure).

Writing is a very solitary occupation. It’s not glamorous; it involves hours of sitting and typing. You live in your head a great deal. But it can prove to be an interesting, occasionally magical, place…

The Words of Life 1

There’s great joy in being a writer. Even more so when you hold your first novel in your hand. For most writers this is the Grail, what we all dream about, what turns us into writers on the first place.
Even after around 30 non-fiction books, holding The Broken Token was a profoundly moving experience. Now, after almost 3 months, the trick is still to sell the damn thing, to see those copies flying out of bookstores.
But now it becomes just one part of the problem. I’m almost one-third of the way through the second novel to feature Richard Nottingham, and the challenge is not just to come up with a good mystery element (always the lesser part to me) than to make the characters grow, to make them, and the Leeds of March 1732 even more real.