Launching into the digital ether

Well, that's my latest book out here in the UK with as much fanfare as could be mustered in these times of pandemic. Unfortunately, said fanfare was all digital. Social media has its uses but - as Rick pointed out in his column earlier this week - it is somewhat hit and miss. 

Another example of quite gratuitous self-promotion for which I am just barely ashamed.

In his post, Tom highlighted the effect of Covid on launches, mentioning that Bouchercon has been cancelled once again. In the UK last year every single festival fell away one by one, although we are now seeing the green shoots of recovery. The Harrogate event went ahead earlier in the summer, the Edinburgh International Book Festival is underway even as you read this and in September Bloody Scotland - one of the festivals dear to my heart, not to mention close to my home - has announced it will proceed with a mixture of live and digital events. Naturally, everything is subject to change should a new variant rage through the populace. However, we have made excellent headway with the vaccine rollout here, although there remain pockets of resistance.

Anyway, there was no live launch for me. No ego-boosting. No lines of well-wishers clutching freshly bought copies waiting for me to scratch a pen over the title page, although I did visit a couple of bookstores in Glasgow to deface their stock with a Sharpie. Which I borrowed from behind the counter because I had forgotten to take a pen. I hope to get out and stage such raids on other stores soon. I may even take my own pen.

Instead, there was a flurry of Twittering, Facebooking, Instagraming and even Linkdining. Those more savvy with the technology can meld the various ingredients into a satisfying broth. My approach is more like throwing pasta at the wall to see what sticks.

My efforts are aided by those bloggers, readers, friends and other authors who share and comment - and I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of them. Also booksellers who place the book in prominent positions and also do more than their fair share of Twittering. (Yeah, I know it's Tweeting, don't write in.)

Reviews have been good so far, which is heartening. Again, thank you to all who have taken the time to do so. As for sales? I have no idea but given the glut of product out there I can only hope for the best. 

On a general note, given the past 18 months, that's really all we can do. 

Oh - and get vaccinated, for goodness sake.

Market Forces

Howdy all - Douglas Skelton comin' at ya from the sunlit uplands of the UK, specifically Scotland.

Publication week is usually an exciting time for an author. I say usually because there may be some out there who no longer feel such a publication day thrill.

Me? I find the idea that something I have laboured, sweated, cursed over has escaped the confines of the publishing halfway house that is the space between me typing The End and finally breathing the air conditioned air of the bookstores.

Apologies for what seems like self promotion but as this isn't available in the USA yet, my conscience is clear. Well, clearish. 

I wrote A RATTLE OF BONES while we were still in the clenched teeth of lockdown here in the UK - last summer to be precise - and I've written two more since then. That makes it very difficult when discussing the imminent release because, frankly, I have trouble recalling with any degree of accuracy some elements - like character names - of what I wrote back then. Even when writing I have to note them down because it wouldn't be the first time I changed a character's name midway, leading to extreme perplexion at the editing stage. Who on earth is Mr X? And why does he seem to talk like Mr Y? 

Yes, I could have a read at it but there's nothing more spirit-sapping than revisiting my own work. I always feel I could have done better and it's too late to change it.

Anyway. 

A new one is out there, free at last to run through the sunbeam-dappled forests of readers' imaginations.

Or something. Not sure where I'm going with all this imagery. I think the fine weather we've had here has addled me. In Scotland, fine weather means it hasn't rained.

Of course, the pandemic continues to throw a mask over most live events so there will be no bookshop launch or appearances, no library talks, and even festival events remain up in the air (though organisers are hopeful). I may, however, visit said bookstores, signing pen in hand to deface copies with any scribble. Some of them may even by my own!

I miss performing, which is strange because the real me is very much a solitary person. At social occasions I am the one in the corner doing his best to merge into the wallpaper.

And yet, some strange alchemy transforms me when I am asked to perform. Gone is the quiet, shy, self-effacing introvert and in his place is a wisecracking extrovert who has sung, danced and even donned wigs in pursuit of sales. It's like Jekyll and Hyde. And I'm not certain which is which.

I have recorded some interviews relating to the new book. I think I got away with them.

But the book is out there now, on shelves, hopefully flying from them so fast you can hear the Doppler effect. Come Thursday - the official publication date - it will drop into Kindles.

Will people like it? 

I hope so.

Will people be fooled by any narrative sleight-of-hand? 

I really hope so.

Will I remember my character names? 

What character names?

Schroedinger's Book

(Author's note - just noticed this falls into line with Thomas's post last week!)

The last time we were all together I mentioned that I had completed the final draft of my latest.

Obviously this is not the one coming out in the UK next month (which is called A RATTLE OF BONES, by the way, in case anyone from dear old blighty is reading this). No, that one was completed so long ago I've forgotten what it was about.

I joke, of course. I know there's a murder in there somewhere.

Here's a pic of the cover, just because I can and the site admin is off enjoying the July 4 celebrations as I write this:

Anyway, the one to which I have only recently appended the legend THE END won't hit shelves until some time next year and, as the authors among us will know, there is an entire process to go through before then. I may have typed those two little words but, sure as God made those little green things that grow on trees, it really ain't.

This is a nervous time for the traditionally published. As you read this, the manuscript will be with my publisher and sooner or later someone there will read it.

Will they like it?

Will they (gulp) hate it?

Will they contact their legal representative to begin proceedings to have the advance returned forthwith, henceforth and to wit the aforesaid?

(Fat chance - I've spent it.)

It is only the first point in the journey from imagination to printed page during which the author's undergarments begin to bunch as the imposter syndrome takes hold.

There's the reviewing portion of the process and then when it finally heads out into the wide world to the strains of Born Free. It will make its own way in the jungle of books. Survive or die. Sink or swim. 

Of course, between where the book is now - that strange netherworld between acceptance and publishers sending the boys round to have a word - and where it will be  comes the editing stage.

My approach to this is simple - we're all trying to make the create the best book we possibly can so it's best to get along. That doesn't mean I accept everything my various editors have suggested, sometimes gently, sometimes forcefully, only once drawing an edged weapon and threatening me with physical harm. (I made that last bit up, by the way. I have never enraged an editor so much that they go all Rambo on me. Well, not yet anyway.)

I will accept and compromise where I believe it is in the best interests of my book and my artistic integrity. Yes, even I burst out laughing at that last bit. However, I will also stand my ground if I believe something is necessary.

But that is a good way in my future. For now and for a short time, to paraphrase bestselling author Ian Rankin on his own work, I have written the best book in the world.

But my opinion matters little.

In reality, it is like Schroedinger's Book - neither good nor bad until that figurative box is opened.

I'm rooting for the former, though. 

Give us a smile

Good Monday to you, Type M peeps - Skelton back at the keyboard.

I am in the throes of a house move, as those of you who tuned in last time already know. Were we last together only two weeks ago? As they say, time flies like an arrow but fruit flies like a banana.

(Think about it).

I am now ensconced in the new place although perhaps as you read this I will be back in the old one transporting yet more of a lifetime of stuff. I thought I had been pretty ruthless in the game of keep or chuck while packing but clearly I was less ruthless and more ruthmore.

Mickey and Tom seem to have settled into the new quarters quite happily though.

Anyway, while I was unpacking boxes and trying to decide where to put the contents, my writer's mind was stimulated by Charlotte's recent blog on Murdering the Myth, in particular her line about happy endings in which 'the good guys won and the bad guys were defeated'. Charlotte also talked about the increasing tendency in TV drama to allow evil to flourish unchecked.

Here in the UK we are well acquainted with unsatisfactory endings (usually in elections 😁). Our crime dramas often were downbeat, with the bad guy getting away with it and justice not only failing to be served but barely making it to the menu. 

My book 'Thunder Bay' was rejected by one US publisher because (spoiler alert!) one strand of the plot remained unresolved. Naturally, I disagreed. For me the plot played out the way it had to and to try to wrap it up in a neat bundle would diminish the whole.

Having said that, I understand everything Charlotte said. I think we need some hope that good will always overcome evil (it kind of did in 'Thunder Bay', by the way), at least in the world of fiction if not reality. And we need those rays of light in these days of increasingly venal politicians who get away with crimes, rising international tensions and, of course, a global pandemic.

That last statement will surprise any who may have read my books. I remember a conversation I had with Scots crime writer Alex Gray, who said she liked a happy ending. I told her I don't do them.

And looking back on my fiction, I really don't as a rule, although my new title coming out in the UK in August is pretty damn close.

I've not done the old DNA thing so I may not even have Celtic blood in me but I'm happy to self identify. And there is something in that Celtic blood, real or just claimed, that welcomes the darkness, I think. 

That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

However, I leaven it all with an often hefty dollop of humour. The Davie McCall books had a lot of Glasgow patter, while a wisecrack was never far away from Dominic Queste's lips. 'Thunder Bay' was perhaps the one with fewer laughs than usual but they were back in 'The Blood is Still' and I think even more in the new one 'A Rattle of Bones'. My protagonist Rebecca Connolly is growing older, more assured, and now, at times she talks to other characters like Philip Marlowe on speed.

But that darkness is still there, within me and, by extention, within her. Of course it is. It goes with the territory.

We need humour in our work. No matter how dark things are, there will always be someone who will say something witty. Or just plain stupid. For the record, the person making the latter is usually me.

Lightness of touch is lacking from a great deal of TV drama now. Many crime shows are so bleak and mournful. There's a lot of slow motion walking, mooning about, navel-gazing and staring off into space with furrowed brow and pained eye.

Yes, I know crime is not a laughing matter but we can tackle dark subjects while also bringing much-needed lighter moments. Look at the works of Robert Crais, Dennis Lehane and, the author I grew up with and who inspired me to take up the genre, Ed McBain. They handle some distressing stuff but always find room - where appropriate - to throw in some snappy banter.

(Incidentally, Robert Crais thanked me on Twitty the other day for an RT. I've never been so thrilled.)

Light relief goes a long way. It makes the darkness even darker, it helps build up characters and it makes for an entertaining read. 

And that's what we're supposed to be doing, isn't it? Entertaining people? 

Yes, we can explore the human condition if we wish. Yes, we can reveal deep truths. Yes, we can examine issues of concern.

But if we don't tell our story in an entertaining way then all we're doing is preaching and we have enough of that in real life, thank you very much.

Even superhero movies are now places of angst. I just want to grab some of them by the shoulders, give them a shake and say, 'You're in a ridiculous costume, maybe even tights, in a world that doesn't really exist outside of a computer. Lighten up, for goodness sake!'

Thank heavens for Deadpool and Shazam! And, to an extent, Robert Downey Jnr.