It’s Not a Rumour…

On Friday I went to see Rumours of Fleetwood Mac with The Girlfriend© – the premier Fleetwood Mac tribute band in all the land. Even if this was my first time (and it wasn’t, as I had seen them many years ago with my sister) I would have known I was in for a treat as founding member Mick Fleetwood heartily endorsed them at the start of the show.


The first half of the performance was taken up with a celebration of the Rumours album which is now forty years old. As such, they performed every song, featuring one of my favourite Mac tracks, the Stevie Nicks fronted Gold Dust Woman. It’s no secret that I think Stevie has one of the sexiest vocals in rock music, but Jess Harwood – the girl who embodies her on stage – runs her pretty damn close.

After the intermission the hits kept on coming as ROFM took us through the entire catalogue, from familiar eighties tracks like Little Lies and Gypsy, dating back to their roots in the late sixties with songs like Black Magic Woman and Need Your Love So Bad… the latter of which turned out to be somewhat of an aphrodisiac for The Girlfriend©, so that was an unexpectedly sweet Friday night bonus.

It’s a show I would heartily recommended for both Fleetwood fans and also those who simply appreciate good music. Catch them if you can – they are touring the UK until the end of May.


Dad’s Last Words…

I got a letter from my dad today, which would not have arrived as such a great surprise had my father not died in 2004… and this letter had been written at least five years before that.

In the two pages of emotive prose, my father apologises, says that he loves me, and basically asks for forgiveness in a way that he would never have been able to do in person. He also left his address and phone number should I ever wish to get back in touch and rebuild a few of the bridges he had spent years burning.

At the end of the letter, in capitals, are the words EDDIE LIVES! It’s a phrase that means nothing unless you’ve seen Eddie & the Cruisers II… something which carries a crazy ironic weight, because that movie was about a famous singer presumed dead only to be discovered alive twenty years later.

Of course, I didn’t get the chance to reconnect because the letter was kept a secret from me for two decades. Maybe I wouldn’t have contacted him at all; or perhaps I would have done so just to tell him to fuck off. The truth is I don’t know how I would have reacted twenty years ago, but the point is, it should have been my decision to make, and not just another skeleton in an already bone-riddled closet.

If Only She Was an Editor…

So, The Girlfriend© is the first person to finish reading the final version of Slipwater, and she says that she likes it a lot, which I do appreciate very much. If her critique is anything to go by, I have managed to produce a cohesive and entertaining page-turner that left her with a lump in her throat by the time it ended. Really, what more can I ask for?

But let’s be honest, that’s a little like showing your mum your homework and having her pat you on the head and say that it’s good… isn’t it? (I’ve heard) that women can fake orgasms, so I’m sure they can feign a little glowing praise in other departments too if required.

Still, it is extremely gratifying for someone to recognise the hard work that has gone into producing it – even if she is just keeping me sweet because Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. There are worse things that she could lie to me about!

I only hope that I find an agent or editor who is as enthusiastic about Slipwater as she has been, because if I do, I’ll be a very happy little writer indeed.


Putting Myself Out There…

A fast-paced police thriller at its core, with science fiction undertones, Slipwater is above all else, a tale of love lost, and hope regained. It is the story of one man’s blind desire to chase the second chance at the life he saw ripped away, no matter what the cost; and of his best friend’s quest to stop him.

That is part of the synopsis for Slipwater that I have sent off to five agencies over the last few days, along with either the first three chapters or the opening 10,000 words.

Agencies (and publishers, should you choose to go to them directly) dont want the entire manuscript, and that’s fair enough. I’m sure you know if you’re enjoying a book before reaching the end, and similarly, they don’t need to read every word you have written to know if it’s any good. What they ask for does however seem like a narrow window: a lot of stories are only just taking the training wheels off at that point. But, this is not my game, and these are their rules.

The girlfriend is currently reading it as well. She says she is enjoying it, but then again… she has a dog in this race, so it will be difficult for her to be completely blunt and honest. Hopefully there are no glaring plot holes or silly continuity errors that I inexplicably missed in all my edits – and I don’t think there are – but however she responds to it, it will be good to hear the opinion of someone who doesn’t know what is coming next.

The Novel is Finished…

i_did_it_labelIt’s done.

87,500 words. And its finished. I don’t even want to look at it again, because i know the moment I do I will find something else to tinker with, and it’s unnecessary.

I could keep going, I know that. I could go through it again, change a few things here and there. Add something. Take something away. And theoretically I could do that for the rest of my life. But eventually you reach the point where the alterations being made are not worth the effort it takes to make them. And I think I have got to that place.

The only reason to keep editing ad infinitum, is fear. Scared of success or failure – maybe both. Once the story is done, it’s done. Let it go and move on, because otherwise the words will remain forever on your laptop or desktop or whatever else you may be using to write that masterpiece of yours.

Now I need to get it off my computer and into the hands of a publisher… and that’s when the hard work really begins.

(Another) Draft: Completed…

So, 27 days after I finished the last draft of Slipwater – the first fully functional version of my novel that there has been this decade – I completed the current one.


At just under 86,000 words this run through is approximately 3,000 words meatier than its older brother, but the important thing is not so much about the extra words, but that those words matter and add to the story… because remember: length is not everything, girls.

As I was going over the story this time I realised there are a couple of things that I need to amend. They just don’t sit entirely as they should within the ‘rules’ of the world I have presented. That being so, I’m giving Slipwater one final cleanse, but it will be (primarily) limited to those portions of the narrative that are directly affected by the changes that need to be made, so it should not take too long at all. As far as the minutiae of the editing and the grammatical tasks is concerned – that’s all done. I’m good in that department.

So, it’s back to the beginning I go, but I’m going to have a sleep first.

The Neverending Story…

No, not the ironically titled classic eighties movie, but this novel I’m working on.


I’m nearly there now, and it’s equal parts exciting and frightening. I have 75,000 words in the bag with the final three chapters still to revise. Of course, once I get to the end of this draft it still won’t be quite the finished product that I need it to be, because in the process of going through it this time I drilled down and made some adjustments that do necessitate another pass.

I have this waking nightmare that every draft I do gets closer and closer to what I am looking for, but I never pull the trigger on sending it away to a publisher because there’s always something else to fix or change or edit or add.

My novel is not perfect and it never will be, and that’s where I have to use a little restraint and learn to accept that reality. My job is to find the apex of the story and then walk away – close the book on… the book. And if I can do that, then I just may have written something worthwhile.