World Book Day & TIMERIDERS

As this week was World Book Day I felt somewhat obliged to visit my local bookstore and purchase a couple of books. Unfortunately, there doesn't appear to be any independent stores near where I work so I had to settle for a visit to Waterstones. I don't have anything against them, but I would have liked to have supported an independent.

Unusually, for me, I didn't have any specific titles I was looking for - well, except one. My shop visit coincided with the release of the short story collection 100 Stories for Haiti and I figured that was a suitable purchase for World Book Day. Unfortunately, not only did the store not have any in stock, they could not even find it on their own system (which was a little odd as I found it on their website when I returned to my office). So, that remains on my "to buy" list - and I urge you to do the same.

The titles I did pick up were not really my usual fare, and I feel slightly guilty that two of the three were so well known that they did not really need my support. Nonetheless, I do feel that I should read WOLF HALL by Hilary Mantel and THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO by Steig Larsson, if only to understand why they are rated so highly. I've not started WOLF HALL yet, my wife has snagged that (much more her thing), but I have started DRAGON TATTOO.

I have to admit, had someone given it to me, I probably would not have persevered beyond the first few pages. To me, it starts rather slowly and rather dully. Only when the key character - Lisbeth - is introduced does it seem to pick up. But it's really too early to pass judgement at this stage.

My final selection was one I certainly would not usually have read - TIMERIDERS by Alex Scarrow. It's a YA novel, of which I have been reading too many recently, but its subject matter is worthy of attention as (and I'm not giving anything away here) time travel does feature in my first book - THE LONG SECOND - so I was interested to see how Alex handled what can be a tricky subject, not least dealing with the infamous Time Travel Paradox. (Again, I'm giving nothing away by saying that he deals with it by ignoring it. Nothing wrong with that, frankly).

But the real reason I wanted to pick up the book was in recognition for the way he handled himself recently when the book was criticised on another blog I regularly read - Catherine's "Reading Whilst Writing". Cat, in fairness, simply stated that "it wasn't turning out to be very enjoyable" and had put it to one side for future reading. Hardly scathing criticism, but there have been numerous occasions recently where authors have embarrassed themselves by reacting badly to any criticism. When Alex responded, I was expecting another car-crash moment - but was astonished to see how well he handled Cat's comments, showing real maturity and reason in his response. For that reason alone I, and many others, vowed to buy his book.

And my verdict? I really enjoyed it. I admit, I'm closer the the likely target audience (being male) than Cat, though sadly I'm a long way from being YA myself, and that may have made all the difference. Or, it could have been the whole time-travel connection. Regardless, I have little to criticise, certainly nothing worth mentioning here (except, perhaps, that I would probably have ended it a few pages earlier, but that's just me!). There were, in fact, at least a couple of genuinely unexpected twists - and for those, I salute you, Alex.

I thoroughly recommend TIMERIDERS (and that is something I say very rarely).

In other news, the current WIP is progressing nicely. I've revised the target word-count down a little, to 80,000, which puts it about 50% complete. If it goes longer, that's fine. The only difficulty? The ending. There are currently six or seven possible endings, all of which are very feasible even at this stage. I have a feeling this one is going to surprise me...

Moments of Clarity

The basic premise for the current WIP was determined many months ago, although, like everything we've written so far, it has evolved significantly from the initial idea that was swimming innocently around the ideas tank. Of course, many elements have remained (like the name of the main character) but others have changed beyond recognition.

It's now at that stage where the real point of the story comes to life... and we're suddenly not absolutely sure in which direction it needs to be taken. So, a little brainstorming took place via email and instant messenger, the result of which left us with 6 (count 'em!) possible story lines (not including subtle variations).

At the same time, we're being asked for a synopsis of the story by our agent who is already excited by the prospect, even before it's finished. No pressure there, then.

I was three paragraphs into the synopsis when I wrote what is (in my opinion) the killer opening line. Yes, that's right, the Killer Opening Line (TM) was three paragraphs in. Naturally, paragraphs one and two were immediately victims of the delete key.

But that was the easy part. We already know how it starts, it was putting the meat on the bones which was more difficult. And then, after some thought, appeared another Killer Line (TM). On the back of that, came a Killer Twist (TM).

That moment of clarity was sheer bliss. A real moment to be savoured and enjoyed.

Since then, the story has gone nowhere, for all sorts of reasons (not least being forced to attend a gathering of writerly folk during the week. Oh, rain your pity upon me). Oh, and trying to work out the dynamics of the new, clever story line.

This coming week sees me at home as the children are on half-term. I have this grand idea that I shall awaken at the usual time and sit hammering the keyboard in the few quiet hours before they arise (we're a family of night-owls, we don't do mornings). I'm hoping that, at some point, the moments of clarity from this last week will magically transform into a Killer Storyline (TM).

The only downside? Even I'm not prepared to hit the wine (to aid the creative process) at that time of the morning...

Listen...

Do you hear it?

No, not the sound of silence, the silence that accompanies a lack of blog updates. I mean the tap, tap, tap of keys on a keyboard.

I'm sorry for the brief hiatus, I had every intention of posting updates on a weekly basis at least but it doesn't always work out to plan, especially when the writing gets in the way.

So, it's a good thing, really. I'm not blogging because I'm writing. You'll see from the panel on the right that there are now two Works In Progress. I'm not sure if that's ambitious or just plain stupid, but after a good start on Book 3 I found that main character of Book 4 (not part of the series) calling out to me, demanding to tell his story.

Damn those crazy voices in my heard, needing to be heard.

Book 3 is far from abandoned, it's just not receiving the same level of attention as Book 4 right now, but it will.

But, for now, Book 4 is having its turn in the spotlight, and I suspect it will remain there, determindly selfish, until completion.

On The Cusp

I didn't intend to blog about this yet, for fear that even mentioning it would be tantamount to placing a jinx upon the whole thing. Of course, because of that, I'm not going to given any details other than to ask a question I once asked before (albeit on my Facebook page):

Is this it?

At the time, a few people raised concerns. Was "it" a bad thing? Did "it" mean that I was disillusioned, unhappy, or - dare I say it - suicidal?
Of course, the answer to all the above was a resounding 'no' (and, in case you're wondering, still is).

But, the last time I asked, the answer turned out to be 'yes'.

There are some fingers being silently crossed for the same answer this time.

Best Laid Plans

Sometimes, despite your best intentions, things don't turn out as planned.

With two books of THE LONG SECOND series safely finished, polished and safely on submission (well, almost, BROKEN, book 2 is being submitted tomorrow), thoughts were turning to a new book, and a change of setting.

We'd already spent a little time setting up the characters and back story for NUM63R5, but when it came down to writing it, I ground to a halt, just 300 words in. A few sleepless nights later and the story was still refusing to reveal itself. A few emails were exchanged, ideas proposed and dropped, and a small plot-hole refused to stay adequately filled.

Time, then, for a break. With every intention of walking away from the keyboard for a week to wait for inspiration to strike, I went to bed. And couldn't sleep. Again.

Only, this time, it wasn't NUM63RS keeping me awake, but Book 3 of THE LONG SECOND series.

Today, thanks to the mysterious workings of school inset days (2 children at home, one at school - you can imagine how happy school-attending child was about that), I found myself unexpectedly with uninterrupted keyboard time. Both other children were taking advantage of an extra day of holiday and remained tucked up in the warmth of their beds (and especially good idea as the heating failed to come on this morning thanks to a blown fuse... I can feel some expensive electrical work coming on), leaving me with that rarest of things: time to myself.

And the words? Oh, they came. Thick and fast. 4,500 of them until I had to go out and collect school-child.

I'm a little stuck now, not 100% sure where to take the story from here, but considerably more hopeful of something creative occurring than I was 24 hours ago.

So, for now, NUM63R5 returns to the Ideas Tank, like a lobster spared from the pot, to swim amongst the other ideas in there, until it gets another shot at the limelight.

Milestones and Future Plans

With 2009 drawing to a close, it's only slightly coincidental that Book 2 (now titled BROKEN) is in the final stages of polishing, ready for delivery to Lora, our agent.

This year has seen, from nowhere, the birth of Marshall Buckley and the beginnings of (hopefully) and long and successful writing partnership. While, I'm sure, the prospect of writing a book in partnership with another person probably fills many with horror, for us it works incredibly well, and that's despite the 2,500 mile (and 3 1/2 hour) difference. In fact, it's possible that those difference actually help, and it's impossible to be constantly under each other's feet (and it's much easier to ignore an email or MSN message than to ignore somebody face-to-face. Not that we ever do... at least, not yet!)

When the idea for THE LONG SECOND was first raised, back in March, I don't think either of us thought we would achieve so much in such a short time, but here we are, nine months later, with two books completed and a raft of ideas waiting in the wings, agency representation, and the first book out on submission with multiple publishers.

On top of that, the connections and friendships forged through FaceBook, Blogs and Twitter have been inspiring and remarkable, and to all those who have offered advice and encouragement (either directly or indirectly) I thank you, most sincerely.

With BROKEN about to leave home, all attention is now focused on the next book, which is not part of The Long Second series. It's called NUM63R5 (that's NUMBERS for those of you who have trouble with such numerical substitutions). Whether it keeps that name is anyone's guess. THE LONG SECOND kept its name from the start, but BROKEN was originally titled PARALLELS.

To round up the year, I thought I'd share the contents of what I long ago christened the "Ideas Tank". I'm only sharing the titles, though, the story behind each will remain a mystery.

We have:
The Long Second Series, Book 3: INBETWEEN
The Long Second Series, Book 4: AFTERLIFE
LAST MAN STANDING (aka PARADISE)
DEARLY DEPARTED
ONE MORE SLEEP
UNDER YOUR CLOTHES
HARD WIRED
I SPY
WHEN I WAS 7, I COULD FLY
YOUTH'ANASIA
SUICIDE DREAMS
PUSH ME, PULL ME

Some of them are little more than titles, with only the most basic synopsis behind them, others are more fully formed. For example, LAST MAN STANDING was supposed to be the next book to be written, before the idea for NUM63R5 came along.
It's possible, of course, that some will never be written, and some may become combinations of two of more ideas.

But, with that many ideas in less than a year, we're going to be busy writing for some time.

And with that, I wish you all a happy and prosperous 2010.

The Ghost of Christmas Past

Strictly speaking, I'm referring to ghosts and Christmases in the plural, but it wasn't such a neat title.

I was reading a blog entry over on An Awfully Big Blog Adventureand it made me start thinking about my own childhood Christmas memories.

Mrs MB has frequently commented that I must have been built from a clone at age 12 as I have so few memories from before that age, but while thinking about this, it's apparent that I'm not, in fact, a clone as there are lots of little things I can remember.

I can recall me and my brothers harassing my parents with chants of "We want the decorations up" and actually making banners and parading around the house.

I can recall a TV advert for an alcoholic drink which Google tells me was a brand of advocaat. I shared a bedroom with two of my brothers, and in the nights leading up to Christmas we would frequently lay in bed, call out "Seagers Egg Flip" and have to turn over in bed, while bouncing at the same time (if you get what I mean). It must have driven my parents mad.

I remember putting the tree together. We always had an artificial tree, but it was like nothing you get today. The trunk and branches were wooden, with plastic needles. The trunk was in two parts, which screwed together and each branch had to be slotted into the trunk.

We had mainly paper decorations which became tattier with each passing year. Most famous was the large paper bell. This thing must have been 24 inches deep, and folded out from flat into a large (surprise!) bell shape. So pivotal was it to the yearly display, it ended up having it's own metal hook screwed into the ceiling of the living room.

We kids would make our own decorations out of strips of coloured paper which were looped, stuck and joined together. Can you still get those?

We never had stockings, or presents on our beds. Instead they were all kept downstairs in sacks. We weren't allowed into the living room until dad was ready, and he was infuriatingly (and, I'm sure, deliberately) slow. We also had to have breakfast first - though who wants to eat when there is a pile of presents waiting for you?

When we were younger, and finally allowed in, the present opening was finished in a matter of minutes and a mass of torn paper. I can vividly recall my first wristwatch, with its shiny blue face and blue fabric strap. As we grew older and calmed down (just slightly) we were made to open presents in turn, waiting and watching as each brother opened something. And occasionally Mum or Dad would get a present too - Dad always gave Mum a Terry's Chocolate Orange (amongst other things, of course).

Christmas Day was immediate family only. That meant Mum, Dad and four kids. Nobody else. Ever. As we grew older, girlfriends were acceptable but that was it. We never went out to visit others and nobody came to us. The occasional rare visitor was treated cordially but coolly. This was our day.

TV was forbidden. Absolutely without exception. The arrival of the VCR made that a little easier to bear, but it was never an issue (except the year we were given our first video game - an Atari VCS - but even that had to wait til Boxing Day to be played).

Christmas Dinner was never turkey - none of us liked it. It was most likely lamb - Dad's favourite. After dinner was the swapping of family presents, small tokens mainly. Then it was time for games - board games if there were any new ones. Dad - like most dads the world over - would insist on making up his own rules. I seriously doubt any game was successfully finished. Then the cards would come out - we would play Cribbage (yes, really!), or other games whose names escape me right now (to my shame). Bets were placed using pennies from the huge Whiskey bottle which stood perpetually in the dining room.

Tea was always just nibbles, though my mum never came to terms with "light" meals, and the table would have contained enough food for a major party.

After tea came "Tree presents", silly little gifts that Mum couldn't resist buying, and then we'd usually end up playing charades or something similar.

It all sounds so terribly twee and old-fashioned, but that's how it was and - I'm guessing - very much how all my brothers would probably choose to run their Christmas even now.

Certainly, my Christmases are now very different. The children storm through their present piles in minutes; we almost always have Dinner at the In-Laws; after dinner the TV is on while the kids (hopefully) entertain themselves and the adults slowly drink themselves to sleep...

I'm not complaining, of course. It's different, but not worse.

But the memories... the memories prove that I really was a kid once. Honest.