Plodding along

Tags

1825, Cambridge, Gregory 1, Gregory Hardiman, Regency, research, writing

Goodness, I had forgotten quite how slow it is writing the first book in a series.  To be fair, I didn’t realise at the time that “Fatal Forgery” was the first in that series – I thought it was a standalone book until Sam caught hold of me and wouldn’t let go – but I certainly noticed that I speeded up the writing through the series.  I thought maybe it was just me becoming a really good writer (hah!) but it turns out that the magic ingredient was familiarity: familiarity with my characters, and familiarity with the location.  And as I embark on “Gregory 1”, both of those are missing.

Yes, I have been canny enough to stick with a familiar timeframe: “Gregory 1” is set in 1825, which is the same year as for “The Man in the Canary Waistcoat”.  But I’m already finding that 1825 in modern, exciting, capital city London is not the same as 1825 in staid, academic, market town Cambridge.

And as for the other things that are slowing me down, it’s the usual stumbling blocks for the writer of historical fiction.  You start out with a simple sentence: He turned left into Sidney Street and headed for the market to buy fish for his meal.  Now, was it “Sidney Street”, or should I go with the nineteenth-century alternative of “Sidney-street”?  And I’m writing about a Tuesday – was the market in Cambridge on Tuesdays?  And were the fish sellers there every market day?  And were they actually in the main market, or near the “beast market” around the corner?  Perhaps he can do without a meal today!  I’m not complaining – well, not much – but it’s been a bit of a shock to go from days when I could quite happily pour out two or three thousand words, to feeling exhausted after only five hundred.  But at least this time, as I know already that it’s a series, I can comfort myself that time spent now on learning the details will be a good investment for future books.  Now, back to that fish: will Gregory choose Colchester oysters, salmon or herrings? Or even a tasty eel…

Don’t mute the messenger

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communication, Gregory Hardiman, marketing, newsletter, research, Samuel Plank, self-publishing, Susan Grossey, website, writing

I appreciate that this may have passed you by – mainly because it’s all still in my head rather than actually happening – but now that I am giving being a professional author a go, I am revamping my communications with readers.  I have a very minimal Facebook and Twitter presence for Sam Plank (nothing yet for Gregory Hardiman), and then I have this blog and my monthly research updates.  And there’s my website for me as an author, which covers my fiction and non-fiction writing.  My husband has kindly volunteered (that’s not a euphemism – he genuinely did) to update my website, which is looking a bit tired; like everything, websites have their fashions, and my rather static, page-driven one is now the website equivalent of the Ford Granada.  So I’ll leave that to him, and weigh in with praise/complaints/biscuits as required.  But my job now is to think about my more proactive engagement with readers.

This blog has always been ad hoc – in other words, I make a post when I feel I have something to say.  But again, this seems to be a bit passé: looking at the output of other, much more successful authors, the trend these days is for regular newsletters sent to subscribers.  Some of you will already receive my monthly research updates, and I am wondering whether to unite the two – in other words, to send out a monthly newsletter that contains some background research information as well as other updates on (for instance) how my current book is going and who has agreed to play Sam in the Sunday evening drama commissioned by the BBC (well, an author can dream…).  So the blog would cease, and only newsletter subscribers would hear actively from me.  (Signing up to the newsletter would of course be free.)

And so I wondered whether you had any views on the subject.  To make life simpler I have put together a few questions – but you are more than welcome to go off piste and ignore them completeley.  Here goes:

1. Would you be interested in receiving a monthly newsletter from me, which would focus on my historical crime writing (i.e. both the completed Sam series and the new Gregory series, and whatever comes after that)?
2. Looking at possible content, are you interested in:
   • The research that I do behind the writing – my current monthly update has only 46 people signed up, so perhaps it’s not as popular as I think
   • My progress on my current book
   • The writing process
   • The self-publishing process
   • Me as an individual and not just as an author – some writers share their holiday photos and pet photos, for instance
   • Anything else?
3. It is likely that I will work out how to sell my own books – in e-formats only – via my new website.  Would you prefer to buy this way (for about the same price as on Amazon, but with a larger percentage of the sale price going to me)?  And would the promise of special subscriber discounts interest you?

I think that will do for now.  As you can see, what I am trying to do is gauge whether this is the right approach, and – if it is – what would tempt you to become a newsletter subscriber.  Thank you so much for any thoughts.

A plea for PLR

Tags

author, library, PLR, Public Lending Right, writing

Twice a year, my Twitter feed is inundated with cheery messages from other authors, along the lines of “Just received my PLR cheque – £129 for my loans this year!” and “I love PLR – cheers for my cheque!”.  For the uninitiated, PLR stands for Public Lending Right, and it is a small payment made to authors (and illustrators, editors, translators and audiobook narrators) whenever a book is borrowed from a UK library.  At the moment, if their book is borrowed the author is given 11.26p.  The money is handy, of course (an annual cap of £6,600 is set so that the most popular authors don’t run off with millions) but what is really exciting is seeing your books being borrowed.  Or I imagine it is really exciting.  For I have yet to benefit.  Let me explain.

Despite the availability these days of extremely accurate borrowing data, PLR is still calculated on a old-fashioned method, using loans data from a sample of thirty regional library authorities (there are 151 in total) which is then multiplied to provide a national estimate.  I have donated the Sam books liberally to my various local libraries – but they are all in the Cambridgeshire library authority.  Which was last part of the PLR sample in 2010.  This means that the PLR scheme, by not looking at Cambridgeshire, knows nothing about my books and so does not include them in its calculations.  Sadly, the sample proposed for the year ending June 2022 does not include Cambridgeshire, and nor does the one ending June 2023.  I have written to the PLR people a few times, asking why – given that all libraries these days keep digital records of loans – they can’t simply use complete data rather than a sample, but they’re not keen.  I’ve blogged about this before, way back in 2015, but nothing has changed since then.

So here is my plea.  If you are a library user, please ask your library to stock books by your favourite authors – which may even include me.  The more widely our books are stocked, the more likely we are to be lucky enough to get into that PLR sample and therefore become eligible for a share of the pot.  You can check here to see whether your local library authority is part of next year’s sample group – yes, that’s you, Suffolk, Camden, Oxfordshire and Cornwall, for instance.  And it’s not just about the money: I dream of the day when I receive a PLR statement showing that people are borrowing my books because I know how much I love libraries, and what a thrill it can be to find a favourite author’s back catalogue just waiting for you to borrow, or to discover a previously-unknown author whom you grow to love.

The home straight

Tags

Fatal Forgery, marketing, plotting, Samuel Plank, self-publishing, The Notes of Change, writing

Good heavens – has it really been two whole months since I updated you on what I am up to?  I do apologise.  If it is any excuse at all, my blog silence has been the direct result of my writing busy-ness – yes, the finish line is in sight for “The Notes of Change” (the novel formerly known as “Plank 7”).  All is in hand for a publication date of Friday 29 April (2022 – for the avoidance of doubt!), and as it stands I have only one last chapter to write.

Oddly for me, the chapter left to write is indeed the last chapter of the book.  Usually I write the ending somewhere in the middle of the writing process and then work my way towards it – I have written before about my “jigsaw” writing technique (where I write the chapters I fancy in any order I want, and then patch them together at the end – I find it a good technique for avoiding writer’s block).  But this time, perhaps because I know it really is the Final Chapter for Sam, I have been putting it off and putting it off.  And, if I’m honest, until quite recently I wasn’t actually sure what I wanted to do with him.  Those of you who have read “Fatal Forgery” and done your date calculations will know that I can’t do anything too drastic to him in this book – which ends at the end of 1829 – but still, I need to make the transition for him.  And now I know how I am going to do that.  But actually writing it, and knowing that it’s the last time I will write in his voice, well, that’s quite sad.

Some readers have suggested that I could go all Morse on him and write a prequel – and I might yet do that.  (For my money, “Endeavour” is by far the best in the Morse canon – and in our house we can no longer even watch “Lewis” as it features an actor whose abhorrent political views mean that I will not even name him, let alone watch him.  Not the lovely Kevin Whateley – the other one.)  But if I do one day try a “young Sam” book, he will of course be a different man – he’s Sam as I know and love him only because he has lived so long and experienced so much.  But I might not be able to resist.

Publication is not just about finishing the text – there are other ducks to get into that row.  I have booked my lovely cover designer and have found a cover image that I want to use.  I’m now waiting to hear from the copyright owner of the image about whether and how I can use it.  My regular beta reader is lined up and waiting for the finished draft – I’ve promised that by the end of next week, so I’m going to have to get over my Sam sadness before then.  And once the text is off my hands, I need to get cracking with arranging some marketing splash or other for the big day – and marketing is real weakness of mine.  So if anyone reading this wants to suggest something, I’m all ears!

At long last – and a longlist!

Tags

Discovered Diamonds, Helen Hollick, marketing, Portraits of Pretence, Samuel Plank, self-publishing, The Notes of Change, writing

The day has finally come: I am a full-time author.  Well, that’s over-stating it, but on 31 December 2021 I retired from my “day job”, and now I can spend more time learning about self-publishing, marketing my books, exchanging ideas and encouragement with other indie authors – oh, and doing some writing as well.  I found my last three months of work so busy and all-encompassing, what with planning my exit and providing “just one last training session” for so many lovely clients, that I have not even opened “The Notes of Change” (the final Sam Plank novel) since the end of October…  But now I can, and the first order of business is to read it again, from start to, well, not finish, but to “wherever I’m up to”, so that I can remember the plot.

Actually, that’s another over-statement, because of course the real first order of business was to turn my efficient business office into an equally efficient but much softer and more creative “writing den”.  My husband very kindly did the grunt work of removing a now-surplus second built-in desk and making good the walls, and then I scarpered while he and a neighbour manhandled the new “sofa of reclining reflection” through the house and garden and up the office steps.  It looks marvellous – and within ten minutes had been colonised by Maggie the cat, henceforward known in her new incarnation as “writer’s muse”:

Maggie thinking deeply creative thoughts – about dinner

And what of this longlist, I hear you cry!  Well, as if to welcome me properly to authordom, on 1 January 2022 I had a wonderful email from the sainted Helen Hollick (quite why she has not received a damehood for services to the self-published, I do not know – she’d certainly have no trouble finding a hat to wear to her investiture!).  Her review website for indie and self-published authors – Discovered Diamonds – has launched a new award.  The Richard Tearle Discovering Diamonds Award is named in honour of one their most prolific reviewers, who died last year, and “Portraits of Pretence” (the fourth Sam Plank novel) has been longlisted for the inaugural award, by dint of having been the Discovered Diamonds “Book of the Year” in 2017.  I can’t wait to see who will join Sam on the longlist, and then we’ll have to be patient until they announce the winner and runner-up in spring 2023.  What with a new sofa and the honour of being a longlist nominee for a new award, my new writing life is off to a flying start.

Slowing down, for good reasons

Tags

deadline, marketing, Plank 7, publication date, Samuel Plank, self-publishing, title, writing

I’ve just had a five-day break in Norfolk.  For those of you not from the UK, Norfolk is one of our more traditional counties, for which we love it – you can visit seaside towns that seem much as they must have done in the 1950s, and the simple pleasures of bird-spotting, cake-eating and countryside-walking are Norfolk’s selling points.  And what inevitably happens on a Norfolk break is that you slow down and take stock – you step back from daily routines and pressures and wonder why life can’t always be this relaxing.

As some of you will know, I am retiring from my full-time paid work at the end of this year – for many and complicated reasons, but it’s the right decision at the right time and I am looking forward to spending much more time on writing and book marketing.  However, when I announced my plans to my clients, I was (very flatteringly) inundated with requests for “just one more training session before you go”, and my diary for the last three months of the year is now jam-packed with bookings.  The net result is that I am further behind with “Plank 7” than I would wish – and I was getting panicky about meeting my own deadline (mildly important) and also finding the actual writing a chore rather than a pleasure (hugely important).  And after looking at it from the distance of Norfolk, I have decided to postpone my publication date until 25 February 2022.  (My late father’s birthday, so always a significant date for me.)

I am aware that we are in the middle of our title poll – many thanks to those who have already voted.  I can’t see me changing the plot elements significantly or changing my short-list of titles, so the decision of that poll will simply carry forward – and it will be lovely to stop calling the poor thing “Plank 7” and give it a proper name instead.

And to those of you who suspect that this is all simply a ruse to spend a couple more months with Sam and Martha, well, I couldn’t possibly comment…

It’s title time again – please vote!

Tags

Plank 7, Samuel Plank, self-publishing, title, writing

Wouldn’t you know it – I’m silent for weeks, and then when I do reappear, it’s to ask you for something.  Typical.  But it might please you to hear that I am finally at the stage where I can start thinking about a title for “Plank 7”, and that’s where you come in.  As regular readers will know, I am terrible with titles and so I fob off the responsibility onto you: I tell you a little about the plot and then ask you to choose your favourite from a short-list of five possible titles.

(Just to refresh your memories, in case it affects your choice – the six Sam Plank novels so far are: “Fatal Forgery”, “The Man in the Canary Waistcoat”, “Worm in the Blossom”, Portraits of Pretence”, “Faith, Hope and Trickery” and “Heir Apparent”.)

So, “Plank 7”.  It’s the final one in the Sam Plank series, taking place in late 1829 (“Heir Apparent” was set in spring of the same year).  It covers the launch of the Metropolitan Police in September 1829, with Wilson joining them, and Sam’s decision about what to do next.  The crimes they are investigating involve the passing of counterfeit notes through gambling clubs and horse sales, and concerns about organised crime infiltration of the “new police”.  We also see a final showdown between Sam and his nemesis – the man in the canary waistcoat.  The key concepts I would like to indicate are therefore: counterfeiting; gambling; change; just desserts; and the future.

Given all of that, the five possible titles I have devised are listed below, as a poll.  I’ll keep the poll open until the end of Sunday 24 October so that you can mull it over, and we’ll see which one triumphs.  (And if you can think of an even better title, please let me know – we can always do a run-off.)

Time catches up with us all

Tags

Cambridge University Library, Plank 7, plotting, Samuel Plank, writing

Regular readers will know how exciting this is for me: today, for the first time in about eighteen months, I have been able to go into the University Library without an appointment and walk freely around the stacks – and then return to my very favourite desk, on North Front 5, among the German books which I cannot read and so am not tempted to browse, with a view of King’s Chapel (you might just spot its four towers):

I am, of course and inexplicably, hopelessly behind with “Plank 7” – no writing retreat for me this year, but you’d think, with the endless months of lock-down, I’ve have written at least three more novels by now.  But there it is, and I am making some progress: today’s task is the assembling of the timeline, as so far all references to time-frame are in square brackets, like this: “Goodness, is it really [[three weeks]] since I last spoke to him?”  As “Plank 7” sees the arrival of the Met Police, there are certain dates to which I must adhere – passing of new legislation, swearing-in of new constables, first cadre of men out on patrol, etc. – and it’s a pretty tight schedule (from passing of legislation, via recruitment and training of a thousand men, to first patrol was just over three months!).  So my ambition today is to check that it is physically possible, given the Met timetable and the other constraints on life at the time – journey times, court schedules, etc. – that my characters can actually do what I am telling them to do.  And you thought only modern life was time-pressured!

Me, myself and I

Tags

narrator, Plank 7, plotting, Samuel Plank, self-publishing, writing

Today I have been wrestling with the mechanics of writing.  I don’t mean printers or software, but rather the restrictions that a writing form places on the author.  As a reader – and I appreciate that this may be an unpopular and perhaps narrow viewpoint – I’m put off by experimental or (heaven forbid) “daring” writing styles.  For instance, I don’t like having speech without inverted commas, or without regular indicators for who is speaking.  I can cope with multiple narrators, as long as (a) there’s a good reason for it and it’s not used just to bulk out a word count by telling the same story from several points of view, and (b) again, it’s clearly indicated.  I really can’t stand stream of consciousness – although I know that many people love it, hence the enduring popularity of James Joyce’s “Ulysses”.  My position is that I read for entertainment, escape and/or education, and if I want a mental puzzle I’ll do a cryptic crossword or sudoku.  But I know many readers do like to be challenged, and books like Anna Burns’ “Milkman” (where no-one is actually named) win wagon-loads of prizes.

However, one of the many joys of being a self-published author is that I can write whatever I like and my publisher (me!) will accept it without nagging me to be more modern or adventurous or rule-breaking in my writing style.  And what I like is clear, crisp story-telling that follows the rules of style and grammar that have been developed to enable the reader to ignore them completely and wallow in the story itself.

When I started the Sam Plank series, I knew I wanted a first person narrator, with all the stories told from Sam’s point of view, using the “I” pronoun.  I liked the idea of revealing his thoughts and developing a writing style that was his rather than mine – although I have started to adopt some of his mannerisms, I find.  But first person narration has one big limitation: you can write only what your narrator sees, hears or knows.  So if you want a scene in which your narrator is not present, you have to work out a way for him to hear or read or otherwise learn about it – or give in and have him hiding round the corner or listening at the keyhole.  Luckily for me, a constable often does both of these – but I still sometimes have to rejig a plot because it includes scenes which Sam could never know about.  And oddly, given how much I dislike written puzzles as a reader, I quite relish them as a writer.

Retreating to the back bedroom

Tags

Plank 7, plotting, Samuel Plank, self-publishing, Susan Grossey, word count, writing, writing retreat

Well hello.  If you are still sticking with this blog, when I am so rubbish at writing it regularly, I am very grateful to you.  Lots of people, like me, write alongside a day job, and the methods for doing that are as many and various as the writers.  Some people get up early and write for an hour or two before beginning their normal day.  Some (and I envy these people) carry a notebook or phone everywhere and can concentrate well enough while sitting at a café or on a train or between meetings to jot down a few sentences.  Some – and this is a bit more my style – devote a half-day or day a week to their writing.  My favoured method has always been the “dedicated day” in tandem with the “writing retreat”.  As I write historical fiction – rather than contemporary fiction, or indeed non-fiction – I find that I need time to relocate myself into the past, to settle back into the vocabulary and style of the 1820s, which is just not possible (for me, in any case) in short bursts of writing.  This year – the year of “Plank 7” and a pandemic – I have just about managed the dedicated day, but the writing retreat has had to adapt.

Usually – and yes, how lucky am I – I decamp to Switzerland for about a month, to sit alone in a small flat in an out-of-season ski resort, surrounded by gorgeous scenery, fresh air and really-awkward-to-get-at wi-fi (I have to walk uphill to the local tourist office and sit outside it to get any signal).  I can forget about home responsibilities, and what with that tricky wi-fi, and local telly restricted for me to re-runs of “The Royal” and “Heartbeat” on some peculiar English-language channel, I can immerse myself in the world of Sam and really crank out the words.  (And, perhaps more importantly, get a grip on the whole plot, which can be hard to grasp on that one day a week.)

But this year, no Switzerland for me.  And so I have had to improvise: for six weeks, I have planned my diary so that I work for one day a week, write for three days and spend the fifth day on research and other book-related stuff (like blogging).  My weekends will follow their familiar pattern: one day for exercise (long bike ride, usually) and one day for eating/reading.  I am of course extremely fortunate in being able to plan my own time like this, but I have learned the hard way that if it’s not planned and written in my diary, it doesn’t happen.  My aim – as with every writing retreat – is to have a good first draft at the end of it.  And as my current word count is only about 47,000, I have quite some way to go.  Wish me luck!