I was chatting to an old friend the other day. She was surprised to see I’d become a ‘commercial’ writer. How did all that come about, she wondered, that first novel. When, and more pertinently, why?
My first novel? Well, having been persuaded to write an entire book, it would be a crime thriller as that was the genre I’d identified as selling in larger numbers than any other. The research into what was judged to be ‘commercial’ took place nine years ago – interestingly, I’d make the same decision today. Crime sells. Violent crime sells even better. That was that. Decision made. I’d write a crime thriller.
I imagined the process would take a month or so, writing a set amount every day with a brief additional amount of time, perhaps a day or two, to be set aside for spell checking and final polishing.
Oh, the naivety of that decision to ‘write a novel!’
The idea came when I was incapacitated. Fit for nothing, or pretty close to it. Both knees seized solid, asthma recurring, as down as I’ve ever been, I needed a challenge within my diminished capacity. Write a crime thriller then – how hard could it be?
Ha!
The idea of writing a set amount each day was the first casualty. Fine when the muse was with me; other days I could sit for hours, nothing came to mind. I’ve realised since then it’s my normal method, but at the time it concerned me. I’m cursed with an unstructured nature. I find it impossible to start at the beginning, write steadily onwards until I reach the end. My ‘system,’ such as it is, consists of writing ‘snippets’ of dialogue, description, whatever comes to mind and assembling this plethora of material into a recognisable form at a later date. Even to me, that appears an illogical, inefficient and absolutely the worst possible method of writing a novel. But, it’s all I have.
I have ideas. Far too many ideas. They explode out of my brain at three o’clock in the morning, rampaging unchecked with feckless abandon onto the notebook I keep to hand. In the clarity of a fresh morning many of these random thoughts are revealed as dross, but others survive.
The hardest part? Not the ending. Not an attention-demanding opening chapter either. They’re hard, but I usually get there in the end. No, the aspect of the task that brings most soul-searching is the title. Here are just a few of the ones I picked out for that first novel.
No Rest for the Wicked.
I’ll be Watching You
Every Breath you Take
Dead Girls Don’t Cry
You Can Run, but You Can’t Hide
Coming, Ready or Not
Dying to Meet You
Strangle Hold
You’re Not Going Anywhere
None of the above made it to the final stage. Even the title I eventually selected was replaced at a later stage. The novel, while still in manuscript stage, won a ‘Best Debut Novel’ award, in 2002! The main judge, a senior buyer for Waterstones, didn’t like it and suggested ‘Mummy’s Boy’ instead. I was weak then, pliable, easily persuaded of the wisdom of such giants of the publishing industry, so I agreed. Years later, I changed it back to its original title, Burn, Baby, Burn. It may or may not be the best, or even better, title, but it’s my title. That makes a difference.
Nowadays, I still write crime thrillers. Three so far and another two at a fairly advanced stage. I back my own judgement. I spoke at length to a publisher recently. He liked my writing. He liked the sales figures my book was achieving on Kindle even more. He wants to publish my next three books, in conventional form. He told me his ideas.
Very exciting ideas.
Very exciting for him.
They’re his ideas, not mine.
I’ve lived an unconventional life. Mostly from choice.
It suits me.
Do I want to change the way I live? Lose my freedom to please myself? Just on the off-chance of making a lot of money?
Is that a fair trade?
Not to me. I told him I’d think it over.
I’m still thinking.
I find this a very strange contridiction. On the one hand you chose to write crime novels because they sell and now you don’t want to compromise to make money – Well I applaud your stand of course I do but it puzzles me still.
As for the method of writing, I am beginning to realise that most of us can’t actually chose the method it happens to us. I can’t write for toffee if I sit down and think – now I’ll write for two hours. But at the most inconvenient moment I will be overcome with the compulsion to write and if I don’t do it I am in torment until I do. Well done on your current success and the very best of luck for whatever you decide will be the next curve in your road. – Diane
Diane, the apparent contradiction puzzles me as well. Having had success, on my own terms, with the e-book, perhaps it’s the prospect of interference from a conventional publisher that concerns me. I’m selling over a thousand books a week, on my terms, as it stands. Do I want to be told when to put another book out, have it changed from the way I originally envisaged it? There’s the dilemma.
I don’t think of myself as a writer. Not to the exclusion of anything else. So many things I still want to do yet.
Jake, I adore your strength and I sort of understand where you’re coming from, though I, too, am puzzled over the contradiction.
On the other hand: why would you go with a publisher if you sell that many books, what can they do to improve your sales? You are successful already and can probably even live from your writing. Going with a publisher would only be an option if you can keep to your story and they only would help with marketing, putting your books into print, etc.
Thinking is good, Jake. Continue to think.
Elizabeth