How to Survive Being Edited and Still Love Your Book/Editor/Self (and Even Occasionally Smile:-)

This wasn’t lifted from a guidebook or a ‘How To’ blog, it comes direct from the Sharp End. I find revising my novel under editorial guidance a bit like experiencing assisted indigestion. Of course, gas is always better out than in, but now I’ve got someone to kick it out, and then give me soda water and interesting new stuff to eat afterwards. It’s exhausting, it’s essential, and I cope with it by being…

-NERVOUS. Don’t let anyone tell you to be relaxed about your work. Nervous energy is good – it prevents complacent or comfortable writing, and keeps you out of the biscuit tin. And fortunately there’s loads to be nervous about, especially if it’s your first novel. So bite those nails! Drink too much coffee! And don’t worry if a little cold sweat seeps into your keyboard -- there really is everything to play for and everything to lose. A nervous brain is a very active organ, a nervous brain gets things done. So keep it real, brothers and sisters -- keep it twitchy.

-HUMBLE. You are not in complete control of your novel, only the writing of it. And this is good because no way can you be expected to bring much objectivity to something you’ve been giving birth to for years. If it’s rubbish, you need to be told. If your editor spots a useful connection you could make, or a logical flaw you shouldn’thave, just be grateful. The only question you should ask is, ‘would this change improve the book?’. If the answer is yes – and somewhere deep down you’ll always know the answer to that question – then go for it. Just remember to also be...

-RUTHLESS. You’re living on your nervous system and your ego is in chains. Now you are loose in a world of your own making with the most powerful weapon a creator can have: the delete button. Even your main character reaches for a spare pair of trousers as you clank by, your senses straining in every direction for signs of plot device, flabby prose and vile non sequiturs. You have already driven cliché to the edge of extinction, and reduced vast herds of Adverbs to a few captive specimens. On your keyboard, no button shines as brightly as the one that used to say ‘Delete’.

A huddle of emaciated back-stories spot you. They point at each other and shriek, ‘Him! Do it to him!’ but you merely scatter them with your passing – you’re after new prey now. Up ahead, a minor character who no longer pulls his weight is too busy ordering pizza to notice your approach. It’s only when your monstrous scales disrupt his wireless connection, preventing him from uploading his third best Mahjong score, that he looks up into your pitiless lens. In a second, he’s off his chaise longue and running, but it’s already too late.

You know where he lives.

Getting the Title Right, Getting the Title Wrong...

 Regular readers of this blog will know that I have a novel due out next year, a supernatural thriller entitled The Ghost Effect. I’ve been a bit sparing with details of this event until now, mostly because I have been up to my mind’s eye in rounds of heavy revision. But as time slips by and things begin to speed up, I can start reporting milestones in the book’s progress towards publication, starting now with the news that my book almost certainly won’t be called The Ghost Effect.

Now, I always suspected this might happen, even though I did put a lot of thought into the issue of titling over the two years of the book’s creation. The story is about kids who can travel in time through their dreams. Because it’s non-physical time-travel, they take on an ethereal form as they do this, being spotted throughout history as ghosts. The title was conceived as a combination of the creepy Germanic ‘ghost’ with the  Latinate, science word ‘effect’, a mis-match that was intended to create an intriguing whole. Like the Butterfly Effect, only spookier. At least, that was the idea. However, I always felt that ‘effect’ was a weak title word, and, as it turns out, so does everyone else.

So, what will the title actually be? Well, that’s being debated right now. There is one strong contender, but I won’t say anything about that just yet. What does strike me though is how closely those involved in marketing books think about these things. And also just how popular one-word titles have become. Finding a single word that captures the essence of my book, is universally relatable, and looks/sounds fab, though, now that’s a tall order! Even the English language has its limits. But one thing is certain – it’s crucial to get it right. Watch this space.

I Flatline at Weekends

I’ve been neglecting my blog. And like a sick patient in an understaffed hospital, my blog is suffering as a result. But don’t take my word for it, just scroll down to the very bottom of this screen and take a look at its cardiogram. Eek!

Obviously, the ideal pulse rate would be a once-a-day (or at least twice-a-week) rhythm of site traffic spikes, as my scintillating wit and industry relevant infoblasts bring waves of visits to each post, but, um… I’m still warming up to that. In the meantime, while I wait to be industry relevant and scintillating (and rather than resort to posting pictures of kittens), maybe a detailed study of my blog’s stats will suggest a suitable medicine.

My most visited (I won’t say ‘read’), blog post is without doubt my claim-to-fame one. There’s nothing surprising there: write about something famous and people will find it. But my second most visited post, and by some margin too, is a throwaway piece I knocked out in a few minutes, whose popularity seems to be based on the fact that the play on words in its title is also a popular spelling mistake. So clearly the best shot in the arm I can give my blog is a dose of…

…Harry Potter and the Googled Myrrhmaid!

There. Long term though, there’s no alternative to getting back into the driving seat and making the effort to blog more regularly, but I have to move house first. In the meantime, please don’t worry if the patient slips into a temporary coma, it should be over by the end of June. And don’t go away, because there’s loads of news about my novel coming up (hey, I saw that look!), and more about Dan and the Dead, as well as my adventures with websites, my thoughts on branding (cowboy!), the experience of being edited, and the ups and downs and headaches of working with ideas. I’m also going to be giving stuff away.

See you soon (I hope!)

Out to Launch

Last night I went to the launch party for Caroline Green’s debut YA title DarkRide, a book I just about finished on the train journey home. Not because it’s short, I might add, just brilliant and difficult to stop reading. Congratulations, Caroline!

The launch itself had all the essential ingredients -- wine, a reading, good company and a charming author – not to mention that other strange phenomenon of a 21^st Century social life: the meeting of people one has already ‘met’ via social networking. In short, I had a great time, and I couldn’t help noticing that a lot of books were sold too.

The reason I find this particularly noteworthy is the fact that I was recently told (by those who know) that new authors shouldn’t feel the necessity to hold a book launch at all, at least from the point of view of sales. The reason being that all those who would come would probably have bought the book anyway. This has had me wondering about my own debut next year and whether I should go to the trouble of organising a launch party if, as is likely, the publishers don’t hold one. But last night’s spectacle of happy people chatting over dwindling piles of stock as the wine flowed has me thinking again. And after all, without that launch party I wouldn’t have met the author, I probably wouldn’t have bought her book any time soon, and I certainly wouldn’t have had it signed. So my question over whether to launch or not seems to have been answered right there. At least, from the sales perspective – it goes without saying that it’s always fun to open a bottle or two with friends, whatever the bean-counters think.

Before I sign off, I’d also like to send out congratulations to Fiona Dunbar, whose new book, Divine Freaks, is published today. Fiona was at Caroline’s launch last night, so I was finally able to chat in person with someone I only knew by reputation and facebook. Divine Freaks, by the way, is about a girl who can see ghosts, and you have only to glance at my last post to see why I find that interesting. Congratulations Fiona!  

Dan and the Dead

For a long time now I have been quietly working on a comic-Gothic novella for A&C Black (part of the Bloomsbury Group) and as the contract has recently been signed, I can finally announce the good news on my blog. This is a big deal for me, not only because it means I have a second fiction title coming out in 2012 (hurray!), but also because it will be lightly illustrated, and therefore the first time I have been able to combine my own illustrations with my writing for older readers. Double hurray! (The picture above is just a sample, but click for a closer look anyway.)

This project began life as a proposed contribution to a new series of very slim chapter books aimed at reluctant teen readers, but A&C Black felt the idea could be taken further than that, launching me on a very protracted (but ultimately very fruitful) journey. And there was even a brief of sorts: imagine a boy of between 10 and 14 years who has almost given up on reading, but who might yet be tempted to open a book if it looked exciting enough. You have this one chance to get him hooked. Now write! 

 

It turns out that was precisely the challenge I needed, and the stripped down, revved-up 22,000 word text that resulted was a sheer delight to write. I'm not saying it was easy – it certainly wasn't – but I learnt so much that I was able to go back to my novel afterwards and rip many thousands of pointless words right out of it.

So what's it about? Well, it's about a boy called Dan who can see dead people. Yup, like in the film, only I've added a twist that should hopefully freshen things up a bit. The basic set-up owes something to Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased), and sees Dan team up with the ghost of an Eighteenth Century gentleman called Simon, and go into business solving the troubles of the 'Desperate Dead'. For a rather extraordinary fee. Dan's the talent, Si thinks he's the brains of the outfit, and between them they're pretty damn awesome. In a skin-of-Dan's-teeth kind of way. There are dead Victorian magicians to contend with, the feisty ghost of murdered teen Emmeline, sleazy nightclub owners, gold polyester fluffy dice, scary lady vicars and more North Sea than is good for a boy whose hands are tied behind his back. Oh, and there are guns and car chases. And a severed finger. And something very, very grisly that Dan has to carry around all the time. There was even a Quiet Moment for a while, but I decided to delete it.

Anyway, it's something to put in the diary for next Spring:)

In Search of a Lost Reader

The recent death of Diana Wynne Jones has got me thinking. A great many tributes have been posted on-line recently, not just by those who actually knew her, but also by many who trace their own development as writers back to reading her magical books as children. And it's that that's got me thinking, because no matter how far I delve into the crumb-filled cardboard spaceship of my own childhood memories, I can't find Diana Wynne Jones in there anywhere.

Perhaps it doesn't matter. I mean, I have read some her books as a grown up, and seeing as how I have a professional interest in keeping my inner eleven-year-old alive and dreaming, maybe that's enough. But I can't shake off the obvious question: what was I reading then?

Well, the earliest memory I have of being signed up for permanent membership of the Great Book Club of Life was reading The Hobbit at about age 13. Yes, I know that's probably the most uninteresting piece of autobiographical information I have ever posted here (what boy didn't read The Hobbit at age 13?), but for all it's banality, it was still a key event for me. It was the first time I remember feeling bereft at the finishing of a book, and also the moment I understood fully that a story doesn't disappear just because it's over. I even remember exactly where I was standing when I realised I could turn the book over and start it again if I wanted to. The best thing about book covers is everything they contain.

Anyway,The Hobbit led to The Lord of the Rings, and from there I discovered Terry Pratchett, Terry Brooks, John Wyndham, Douglas Adams, Arthur C. Clarke, Real Life, and eventually Girls. But how did I get to Tolkein in the first place? What steps did I take to become a committed reader? And how can I – as a writer for children -- help make sure that other young people get switched on too?

Well, I can reveal that I did read Enid Blyton, though only because I borrowed my little sister's Magic faraway Tree books. I was about 11, and already aware that they were too young for me. I have also -- with the help of Facebook friends -- uncovered the fact that I read The Three Investigators, and this might push my reading back to the age of ten. There were comics of course, and much further back I know my father read Beatrix Potter to me, and my mother was definitely there when the tiger came to tea, but no matter how I look at it there's definitely a big round hole in my memory, and it's at exactly the point where Diana Wynne Jones would have fitted in nicely.

Oh, well. I can't exactly complain about having lots of great books still to read, now can I? But I am sorry to have missed her first time round, back when I wasn't bristling with critical faculties, prejudice and ugly ambition – back when all I needed was a torch and a duvet and a heap of books under my pillow.

So how did you become a reader? And what do you do to help the young people in your life find out where the stories are? In fact, should you do anything?

(I lifted this photo from a fansite. I have no idea if I need permission to use it or not -- feel free to tell me if you know better)