I threatened you with this email earlier this month, as I’ve got something big to say. Well it’s big for me, and the consequences are – let’s say – consequential for anyone who enjoys reading my books. No, I haven’t decided to become a Buddhist monk and live high up in the Nepalese Himalaya under a vow of silence – although at times last year it was tempting (darn that covid travel ban). No, it’s more about my, and my partner Maria’s, domestic and business arrangements…
Ever since I gave up my job to look after our two children, then aged 3 and 1, but with a secret plan to actually ignore them and dedicate myself instead to writing books, I’ve lived a push pull existence between writing time and family time. Sometimes I’ve had more time to work, and sometimes I’ve been dragged back to nappy changing, finger painting, and arguing that vegetables aren’t merely decorative optional extras.
Meanwhile Maria has quietly and stoically gone off to work, and dealt with the mundane details of life, like tidying up the mess when she gets home, and paying the mortgage. Well no more. Despite the twin perils of a worldwide pandemic, and season five of Brexit, she’s decided this is the moment to give it all up, and join me in the wonders of a highly precarious and uncertain income. Specifically, she’s decided to retire and translate my books into Spanish, as well as inject some order into my publishing affairs. The financial basis for this leap into the unknown is – well there isn’t one. It’s just a crazy leap into the unknown.
And of course I wholeheartedly support her in this new venture. And to prove that’s the case, I’ve chosen this very moment to discover the procrastinating wonder that is Writers Block. Earlier this month I promised you a new book was coming soon – The Slaughter House. I didn’t explicitly define ‘soon’, and it turns out that was uncharacteristically wise. I did manage to force out 80% of it over the long months of 2020, and though the plot of the story is good – or at least I think so (but then I liked Baywatch when I was kid, and not just for the bikini shots) – the last 20% continues to elude me. I’m sure it’s somewhere, like down the back of the sofa, or perhaps one of the kids put it in the washing machine. We went through a stage where every time we wanted to watch TV we had to search the house for the remote control, since Rafa would hide it in the washing machine, or up the chimney, because he didn’t think it was fair that he had to go to bed and we got to watch TV. This after he spent the entire day yelling at us because we wouldn’t feed him exclusively on cheese, or let him wear (my) underpants on his head in the supermarket. In the end I used epoxy glue to fix it permanently to the sofa, and now he only hides the batteries. I digress. The point is I’ve really struggled to write the final part of the book, even though I know what should happen. And I’m not really sure why this is.
So at this point I wouldn’t like to say whether The Slaughter House will ever see the light of day. But book four of the Rockpools Series, which is almost certainly going to be called The Island of Dragons, is now available for pre-order! There, you weren’t expecting that were you? (I do love a good twist). I even have the blurb written:
When Billy Wheatley heads off to college, he exchanges small island life for the excitement of the mainland. And while he’s able to ignore the temptations of drink, drugs, and sex which preoccupy the less able students around him, when he attracts the attention of a more sophisticated clique, he is far more at risk.
They live within the rarefied air of exclusive restaurants, members-only clubs and exquisite privacy, where they debate the politics, art, and science that Billy yearns to master. But they also harbor a dark secret which funds it all. Except that secret is about to spectacularly implode, leaving Billy perfectly positioned to take the fall.
Soon he finds himself accused of a murder which he just might, have actually committed. And with no way out of a net that is closing around him fast, it seems this might be a very premature end for a young man’s promising career, and extra-ordinary life.
Because how can you catch a killer, when the killer is you?
Obviously, I only assume they say that, I wasn’t able to actually go…
Thanks for reading.
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