Quercus Books

Now then, people: I’m pleased to be writing with some extremely good news. After weeks of turmoil and torment, I am utterly delighted to announce that my first novel will be published by Quercus Books in 2014. The last month has been something of a rollercoaster, to say the least, but I’m just blown away to have landed Riptide with such an amazing publisher. It’s still sinking in, but I’m starting to believe it.

My editor, Jane Wood, is really enthusiastic about the novel, and I can’t wait to work with her on the manuscript. I’m just home from meeting with Jane and Sue, my brilliant agent with the bodacious Conville & Walsh team. It was an incredibly surreal experience to talk about release dates, discuss options for the cover art and explore where I’d like to go with my next few novels. I have three solid ideas plotted out and ready for writing; I know what I want to do with the stories, but it was very odd to expose them to publishing professionals for the first time, as I hadn’t had to vocalise or pitch them before.

So what happens next? For now, it’s business as usual: I’m working on a number of films for Cumbria Wildlife Trust, and college is about to go ballistic with end of term projects and paperwork. I’ll have the summer holidays to get my teeth stuck into another draft of Riptide, then we’ll be looking at proofs in Autumn, and publication in Spring 2014. Around all that, I’m keen to get my head down and start making progress on my second novel. The bogs and marshes idea I mentioned last month is shouting louder and louder – I think I’m going to work on that one next. It’s great to have the ideas lined up – it’ll take me years to complete them all – but now I need to carve out some defined, scheduled writing time. I don’t know where that time is going to come from, but I’ll find it. The further I take my writing, the further I want it to go.

I’ve worked hard to reach these early stages, and I feel extremely humble to have had that work embraced by such amazing people. It makes me want to strive even harder with my stories. I wouldn’t have come this far without the support from Sue, from writer friends Ali Shaw, Iain Maloney and Steven John Malcolm, and most of all from my wonderful wife Monica – and my daughter Dora, in her own way – because this is all for her. I’m fortunate and grateful to have such incredible people in my life.

It’s a sunny day in the Lake District, and I’m going to have a wee celebration – time to take the family for some cider in the park…

Decline

On Tuesday, Sue started submitting Riptide Heart to editors. I’m excited, but the thought fills me with fear. It’s incredibly scary to think of publishers reading my work. With all the nerves, I have to keep reminding myself how far I’ve come since cooking up the idea in 2011.

It’s inevitable that there will be rejections. Rejection is inherent to writing. I reckon I’ve had no more than one acceptance for every four short story submissions. There’s a certain fatalism that comes with sending off a story. After all the graft and anguish, it’s a moment of horrible exposure to submit it for the consideration of editors. Rejections are raw, even when they feel inevitable, and that’s just for short stories. The stakes will be much higher with a novel.

Sue has asked whether I want to know who has declined Riptide Heart, and why – or whether I’d prefer not to know. I ummed and aahed about this for a wee while, before deciding that I’ll take all the feedback I can get. I think most writers would give eyeteeth for criticism from professional editors, and I’ll cherish anything constructive, no matter how raw the rejection.

Some editors have already been in touch with Sue to say they’re enjoying Riptide, which is a great start – but doesn’t translate into anything definitive. My nerves are frayed beyond measure, and I feel about two seconds behind the rest of reality, but it’s exciting stuff.

The novelists of 1993 had it easy… How will today’s writers publish their work?

I’m always interested in articles about the industry. It’s obviously a time of great flux in publishing, and it’s good to assimilate as much information as possible.  Opportunities for conventional publication are becoming fewer, even as new modes are developed. None of it changes my urge to write, nor my hope that people will read and enjoy my work. Stories are stories.

The most amusing thing about this article is the thought that, in another decade, I’ll be 43, which makes me too old to be a ‘young’ novelist. That doesn’t trouble me too much. In ten years’ time, I’d be perfectly happy being a 43-year-old novelist.

A flock of Fire Cranes

A flock of Fire Cranes

Here’s issue 2 of The Fire Crane, a magazine from New Writing Cumbria, which includes my short story ‘Nash the Mole’ as well as a selection of superb poetry, photography and landscape writing. The theme for this issue was ‘No Signal’, asking writers to question how we construct our understanding of the countryside.

I’d been thinking for some time about the traditional practice of hanging dead moles on a fence. This was how the molecatcher proved how many he’d caught, and then the land-owner would pay by the mole. The image had stuck with me for months; when I read the ‘No Signal’ brief, I knew I’d found a destination.

The magazine, which is printed as a newspaper, is available in libraries, museums and some bookstores throughout the county, and it’s free like a bee. Editor Mick North sent me not one but ten copies, which I plan to hide in random places. I’ll pop a link to the online version in the ‘Read a story’ page.