All posts by Paul

I am a self-employed writer, which means I’m working for an idiot who doesn’t pay me enough – but the holidays are great. I’m ex many occupations, from the respectable ‘career-ladder’ to disreputable “somebody’s- got-to-do-it”. All a good way of seeing someone else’s point-of-view. Best job, apart from writing, was dispatch-riding on a motorcycle in the 70s, though I’ve also enjoyed teaching, librarianship, counselling and helping to run a community-centre. Sometimes I’ve looked respectable in a suit, other times a bit more wild and woolly (though still stylish) as a biker. It’s strange how differently people treat you, depending on what you’re wearing. A suit means I’m sometimes addressed as ‘sir’, but in motorcycle leathers I’m always referred to as ‘mate.’ The worst job that I’ve done ? You really don’t want to know, but it was in a processed food manufacturer’s factory – put me off bacon, sausages and quiches for a long time, and made me look at pet food in a new way. I’m very glad that I don’t have any pictures. I’ve been writing since I was eight, when I penned a story about a desert island and attempted to compile a dictionary – as Clarissa does in my short story ‘The Moon Is Out Tonight’. I’ve written for magazines under a variety of pen-names, ghost-written a couple of biographies and had a column in a local newspaper. I used to concentrate on non-fiction of an informative, how-to instructional nature, as I’m a firm believer in the dissemination of knowledge to enable people to do things for themselves. Knowledge is power, and in these troubled times of economic downturn and increased intrusion into our lives by government agencies, its vital to know how to get through. My fictional stories also show people coping and finding ways to survive. I’m based in a Celtic nation, the county of Cornwall or Kernow. I’ve been here for twenty years, and have lived all over the country, as well as abroad in France, Germany, Switzerland, Spain and the U.S.A.

Tackling Editing

In an interview that originally appeared in the Guardian, George Saunders, author of Lincoln In The Bardo explains how he edits his writing.

With the experimental form of Lincoln In The Bardo I imagine that he did hundreds of rewrites of its 340 pages; to give you some idea of the complexity of the narrative, the audiobook version uses 166 readers—including Hollywood stars Julianne Moore, Ben Stiller, Lena Dunham and Don Cheadle.

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I like what Saunders says about respecting the reader. Saunders uses a computer to write his manuscripts, which must have made things easier with his successful novel:

“I write in Word. I loved WordPerfect, but then the Word juggernaut rolled right over the poor little guy. This computer is given to me by my university and the default word-processing program is Word – so there you go. The only thing I ever write longhand anymore are notebook entries. And even then I usually end up typing them into a file. I have really horrible handwriting. I print out every day so there’s no danger of losing anything. And lots of times, in retrospect, it might have been better if I had lost something.”

These days, with the ease of altering a manuscript that a computer gives us, I sometimes wonder about what the definition of a new draft really is….

In the old laborious days of writing everything in longhand, and even in the less flexible method of using a typewriter, different drafts were readily distinguishable by their altered layout. On my laptop, I can change the order events happen in a chapter with three section breaks in seconds—does that make it a new draft? Or, does a draft only exist when someone else, someone important like a literary agent or an editor, claps their eyes on it? Up until then, your story is a tree falling in the forest that no one hears.

With my last novel, I’ve tried a different way of editing, by staying in one or two chapters for several days. This has permitted me to finesse the descriptions while worrying that such tinkering around may be gilding the lily. I like this way of working, in that it’s encouraged me to consider the frame of mind of my characters at that particular moment, which might make their future behaviour more believable.

How do you edit….is it a daily chore, or weekly?

Do you do regular trawls through all you’ve written so far, perhaps using the Word Search function to find repeated words?

Are you content to leave the editing until you’ve completed the writing? I did that with my first novel, which admittedly was way too long at 179,000 words, and spent five months chipping barnacles off the hull of the monstrous leviathan I’d created. This woeful experience motivated me into doing regular editing of the WIP.

Are you fortunate enough to have a trusted reader, who offers helpful suggestions?

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Notes, Appendix, Footnotes, Glossary & Hyperlinks

In writing a fictional story, there are various ways of imparting extra information without adding bulk to the narrative. Some subjects depend on facts more than others, such as a historical novel or a forensic crime thriller.

Traditional printed novels have long used supplementary methods of aiding the reader’s understanding of what’s going on, by the use of footnotes or having a glossary, appendix or notes in the back of the book. These days, ebooks can use hyperlinks. This caused me some confusion when writing my first Cornish Detective novel.

I learnt most of what I know about formatting from Mark Coker, founder of Smashwords, who is a big fan of using hyperlinks, both to aid navigation around the book and to add value to the reading experience.

The problem with hyperlinks in a novel is that they look horrid on the page, and encouraging the reader to drift away from your book, to follow a link on the internet, is unwise. I have a hyperlinked version of my first manuscript, and it looks like someone has attacked it with a highlighter pen! Increasingly, I’m thinking that using numbered notes would be less intrusive.

As I understand it, these are the definitions of the different terms for ways of adding facts to fiction:

*Notes: a comment or instruction at the back of the book, linked by a number in the text.

*Appendix: supplementary material that is collected and appended at the back of a book.

*Footnote: a printed note placed below the text on a printed page

*Glossary: an alphabetical list of technical terms in some specialized field of knowledge; usually published as an appendix to a text on that field.

*Hyperlink: a link from a hypertext file to another location or file; typically activated by clicking on a highlighted word or icon at a particular location on the screen.

Andrea Camilleri uses notes in his Inspector Montalbano crime novels, set on Sicily. These are often about the food that his gourmand protagonist eats, which always makes me hungry for pasta! I’ve recently been reading another Italian crime series, written by Marco Vichi, in which Inspector Bordelli solves crimes in Florence during the 1960s and 1970s. Like Camilleri, Vichi details the ingredients of meals his main character eats. He’s a veteran of WW2, a partisan who fought the Nazis, so some of the notes explain such things as political affiliations back then, as well as battles and the many superstitions of religious Italians.

As an example, for the text “How long had it been since he had gone to Soffiano to visit his mother’s grave? He always sought to avoid going on the second of November.1Any other day was fine,” the explanatory note printed at the end of the story is, “12 November is ‘il giorno dei morti’, ‘the day of the dead’, when families throng to the cemeteries to visit their lost loved ones.” This is a neater way of explaining something, than doing so in the narrative. The reader can look to find the meaning, if they choose, or ignore the link.

Many genres of fiction don’t need extra information, other than what the story is telling the reader. It’s unlikely that romance, erotica, ghost stories, Western yarns or fantasy tales would feel the need to expand their readers’ knowledge. Modern day literature eschews notes, though reprints of classic novels often add them—to explain the historical context. Similarly, translations of foreign novels will include helpful information.

Series of stories sometimes cry out for footnotes or endnotes. I’ve read several of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels, which have humorous footnotes.

Do any of you use hyperlinks in your eBooks?

Have you added footnotes or endnotes?

If you write historical novels or technology-based stories, do you include an appendix or a glossary?

As a reader, do you check the facts that the writer directs you to—or ignore them?

Caveman Mind

I sometimes reflect on what it means to be a writer in the 21st-century. In modern society, it’s a more tenuous and less respected role than it once was: going back a mere thirty years, authors were valued more.

Today, anyone can spout forth their thoughts online, in a mutating variety of formats, from the trivial and fleeting to major pronouncements that take years to create and read—I recently came across a series of self-published science-fiction novels, each of which is 250,000 words long.

It’s easy to get disheartened, but when my spirits are flagging, I take heart that I’m a member of one of the oldest professions. It’s long been said that prostitution is the oldest profession…which rather implies to me, that pimping is the second oldest. Whimsy aside, telling tales to cheer people up around a fire or in a darkened cave or up a tree, trying to keep safe from predators, is one of the oldest ways of making a living. Once upon a prehistoric time, we storytellers were the equivalent of television or the internet.

This realisation made me wonder what other praiseworthy jobs can trace their origins back to the early days of man. Artists, be they painters of cave walls, actors or singers would be esteemed for their entertainment skills—making their tribe recall epic hunts of prey or fierce battles with rivals. Healers would have an honoured place in prehistoric society, as well as being looked upon with suspicion. Shamans would mutate into religious leaders, at some point, trying to explain the inexplicable as being the work of a divine god: as Mark Twain said, “Religion was invented when the first con man met the first fool.

Someone in the cave would be nifty with a bone needle and sinew thread, turning tanned animal skins into garments and footwear—becoming the first fashion designer. Hunters and gatherers would keep their people alive, with one activity being seen as male and honourable, while the other was relegated to females and part of their duties—hence, sexism was originated!

Personally, I think that the first interior designer would have been welcomed with open arms. Whoever invented shelves, finding a way to attach them to the cave wall, was a precursor of civilisation, eventually spawning legions of home improvement programmes on television.

Amongst all of these jobs, the storyteller was always highly regarded, turned to when something needed explaining in an entertaining and wise way.

We’re still around, and even with all of the distractions of contemporary living, we have something to say to people about the state of society, of what it means to be human.

Our words have value, so we should keep on keeping on writing them.

Of course, we don’t know it all…but there are always editors around who think that they do. The thing is, which caveman became the first literary agent?! 

Do you feel connected to a literary thread that passes through time?

How do you cheer yourself up when doubt swoops in?

Is there any era in which you’d like to have been an author? Perhaps as a contemporary of Jane Austen or a drinking buddy of Ernest Hemingway.

What Websites Do Your Characters Visit?

I previously posted a thread about What Books Do Your Characters Read? But it occurred to me, that seeing how we live much of our lives online these days, a character’s browsing history would tell a lot about them.

For instance, someone who regularly looked at satirical sites, such as Private Eye or The Onion would be markedly different to someone devoted to Drudge Report or Breitbart News Network. It would be a quick way of portraying their stance on a whole range of issues.

For something that’s so commonplace an event, surfing the web for pleasure rarely occurs in contemporary fiction, unless the plot hinges on it, of course. In my last Cornish Detective novel, my titular protagonist relies on an array of experts to assist him investigate cases involving local history, seagulls, the art market, embalming, sea currents and trawlers. His hobbies include painting, music and wildlife gardening—which I refer to, as they’re forms of meditation for him, sometimes opening up ideas about his current murder investigation.

He’s just unearthed an ancient ring in his garden while trying to dig an old tree stump out. It’s 600 years old, and he goes online to find out more about medieval jewellery…which browsing will lead him back to the case he’s trying to crack when he suddenly realises the significance of a clue that’s been staring him in the face for weeks.

I’ve had detectives on his team check facts while out in the field, using their smartphones, sometimes referring to Google Earth to get the lay of the land, when staking out a suspect’s house. One investigation required the monitoring of tracking devices that are legally fitted to ships, for reasons of safety, following them online. In the same investigation, an informer had his iPhone fitted with software that turned it into a listening device so the cops could hear him talking to his villain of a boss, via the FlexiSpy website.

No longer do stool pigeons need to be fitted with bulky microphones, tape recorders and battery packs taped to their torsos—yet an astonishing amount of modern crime novels still use this obsolete technology—the author not having done their research.

One of the irritating things about crime fiction is how many detectives and private eyes are portrayed as being inept at using computers—relying on a subordinate officer or a geeky friend to winkle out information for them. Granted, finding a solution online isn’t as exciting as the copper confronting a tough guy in a seedy bar, but it’s more efficient! I’m sure that many crime writers set their stories in olden times, to simplify the writing, as technology is a rotting albatross around the neck.

I don’t recall characters web surfing in any of the science fiction I’ve read. Does it happen?

Presumably, romance/erotica stories feature web browsing a lot, as the protagonist searches for a partner—with attendant emailing.

Do your fictional characters visit real or made-up sites as part of the life you create for them?

What about the web surfing of astronauts? Best not think about what excites Klingons or the Borg!

Has anyone written a story that hinges on their characters being addicted to social media?

Last Lines

It’s drummed into writers, the importance of having a strong opening to their story. Whole books have been written emphasising how crucial the first few lines, paragraphs and pages are, to grab the attention of readers.

But, what of the closing lines, the end of a story, where an author makes a statement of some kind, even if it’s through the thoughts of their protagonist? I reckon that last lines carry more weight as memorable quotes than opening statements.

Looking at famous books, these endings are variously doom-laden and optimistic.

* From The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson:

She opened the door wide and let him into her life again.

* From Oh What a Paradise It Seems by John Cheever:

But that is another tale, and as I said in the beginning, this is just a story meant to be read in bed in an old house on a rainy night.

* From Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell:

Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get him back. After all, tomorrow is another day.

* From Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling:

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

* From Frankenstein by Mary Shelley:

He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.

* From The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger:

It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

* From Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell:

He loved Big Brother.

* From The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad:

The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky – seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.

* From Animal Farmby George Orwell:

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

I think that there’s a difference between the last lines of a standalone novel and a story that’s part of a series. With a one-off, an author can close the proceedings with a message that encapsulates the themes of the tale they’ve told in a take that way! An optimistic writer who’s embarking on creating a series may well allude to the frame of mind of their protagonist, setting them up for more adventures.

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In every end, there’s a beginning.

In my own Cornish Detective series, I always close with my protagonist Neil Kettle alone and contemplating life—in a way that I hope encourages readers to want to find out what happens to him next.

* Book 1: Who Kills A Nudist?: Neil gazed at the departing jet in the distance, its exhaust condensing in the atmosphere. She'd slipped the reminder into his pocket when she pecked him a kiss. Write her? Why not?

He was starting to believe in happy endings.

* Book 2: The Perfect Murderer: As the Chinese saying went, 'Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think.' It was time for him to be where he was again, to inhabit himself once more—he'd been missing his own life.

* Book 3: An Elegant Murder: In a few minutes, Neil was letting himself into the front door, walking through his half-finished home to go and feed a solitary cat who would ignore him. What else did a man need?

He couldn't be happier

* Book 4: Sin Killers: He'd be OK. The sentimentality of the season was getting to him. At a time when we were expected to be loving and loved in return, he felt the lack. Criminals didn't care about his sorrow, and there were new cases to run, but they'd keep for tomorrow.

Lone as a mountain lion, he went off through the bulleting rain back to his moorland lair.

Book 5: The Dead Need Nobody: He'd got his hands full with her in more ways than one. Her slim fingers reminded him that he had an ancient sapphire ring that needed a new home.

The inscription Si vis amari, ama floated into view.

If you want to be loved, love.

What else could he do?

I think that it's important to come up with a stylish ending to a story, that's taken you ages to write, rather than have it come to an abrupt stop!

Do you have any favourite famous last lines from literature?

What about your own?

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Reading Outside your Writing Genre

About half of the novels and short story collections that I read are in my chosen writing genre of Crime. I enjoy reading crime stories by foreign writers—not all American or Scandinavian—including Japanese, Korean, Mexican, French, Italian, South African, Australian, Spanish and Canadian. This is going to sound perverse of me, seeing as how my own police stories are set in Cornwall, but I find it hard to engage with many British crime novels. Part of the reason is that they’re so parochial, whereas foreign plots are more free-ranging—with the exception of Japanese novels, where society has even more restrictive social conventions than the U.K.

Although it’s reckoned that male readers tend to avoid the work of female authors, I’m not blinkered; many of my favourite writers are female—Alice Hoffman, Barbara Kingsolver, Annie Dillard, Zadie Smith, Annie Proulx, Helen Dunmore, Rose Tremain, Anne Patchett and poets Sharon Olds, Wendy Cope, Alice Oswald and Sophie Hannah.

There’s loads of overlap in defining genres. What’s the difference between Suspense, Adventure, Mystery and Thriller, for example. And what about separating Chick Lit and Women’s Fiction—does one have a tasteful book cover, while the other is pretty pastels with cute cartoon characters? Romance appears to have gobbled up (pun intended) Erotica.

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Of all the genres, Science Fiction stretches me the most. I definitely have an artistic, rather than a scientific mind, but I make myself read several science-fiction novels every year, hoping to activate dormant scientific brain cells that prefer hibernation. Neal Stephenson has challenged me: I’ve read Reamde, Snow Crash, Cryptonomicon and Anathem.

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Magical Realism and Fantasy are easier for me to swallow, and I’m fond of Alice Hoffman, Gabriel García Márquez and Robin Hobb. What I get out of these three genres, is the courage to make my plotting devious, with bold unexpected strokes.

I read several novels in the History genre every year. I’ve devoured all of the Shardlake series by C.J. Sansom, set in the reign of King Henry V111. There’s some blurring of the lines in my choice of historical reading, as some titles would be labelled Westerns, such as Donald Ray Pollock’s The Heavenly Table and novels by Larry McMurtry and Cormac McCarthy...that’s if they weren’t described as Literature! Again, I’m inspired by the ever-lurking danger and need for self-defence in their plots, which provides a much-needed jolt to my own stories; it’s very easy in writing a 21st-century crime novel to get bogged down with forensic gubbins and procedural claptrap.

Graphic Novels are a good way for me to get ideas about pacing and synthesising the key elements of a tale, as they don’t waste panels on needless illustrations.

I rarely read modern-day Erotica or Romances, not because I’m unloving or prudish, more because I find the conventions of the writing hard to take, as most of the plots are extremely predictable. I recently borrowed a couple of Mills & Boon novels from my local library, which got me a strange look from the librarian who knows my reading tastes. I found them unexpectedly funny, but I don’t think I was supposed to be laughing. Actually, humour is something I used in my last Cornish Detective novel, when my protagonist finally takes and is taken by, a lover—after seven years of chaste widowhood.

Horror stories rarely horrify me, which might be one of the drawbacks of spending so long researching murders. I can’t take monsters seriously, though I love a slow-building sense of dread, such as H.P. Lovecraft once wrote, or more recently, as Patrick Ness achieved in his Chaos Walking series.

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Readers have prejudices about genres other than what they normally read. I was pleased that two of my manuscript readers, who’d avoided crime fiction, thinking they wouldn’t like it, were turned on by my stories which expanded their reading tastes.

I regularly read what is labelled Literature, which might be defined as superior writing of lasting artistic merit, though a cynic might argue that literature wins writing prizes, but sells poorly, while genre writing is commercially lucrative, but is rarely chosen for an award… in the same way that comedy films never win the Best Picture Oscar.

I’m inspired by fine writing, and though I write my Cornish Detective stories with literary flourishes, I respect the conventions of the genre. Mind you, there’s been a rise in literary crime fiction, with authors such as Pierre Lemaitre, Derek B. Miller and Fred Vargas all writing high-quality prose; James Lee Burke has long written rich descriptions of complex characters.

Do you read outside your writing genre?

How does it help to enrich your own stories?

Are there any genres that you avoid?

Which genre provides the greatest escapism for you?

Ghost Characters

Ghosts in literature are familiar to us—think of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, Susan Hill’s The Woman In Black, the dead narrator of The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, Banquo’s ghost in Macbeth, The Dead Men of Dunharrow in The Lord of The Rings and The Headless Horseman in Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

In my chosen writing genre, Crime, there are several prime examples where the protagonist faces up to malevolent forces from beyond the grave, or is in sympathy with them and even assisted by them.

James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux seriesabout a Louisiana detective, has his protagonist imagining and, at times, interacting with long-dead soldiers from the Civil War—most notably during In The Electric Mist With Confederate Dead.

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John Connolly’s novels featuring a private investigator called Charlie Parker are soaked in supernatural events, so much so, that it’s sometimes tricky to decide who’s alive and who’s dead.

James Oswald’s Inspector McLean series sees his Scottish detective dallying with supernatural forces of evil.

I recently read two of Arnaldur Indridason’s Icelandic crime novelsin which his detective hero is forever tormented by the memory of letting go of his brother’s hand when they were children lost in a blizzard. His body was never found, and from time to time his dead brother visits him as a symbol of how he failed. His brother has forgiven him, but he can’t forgive himself.

In my own Cornish Detective series, my protagonist is a widower, his wife killed in a freak road accident two years before Book 1. In the first two stories, he slid into dark depression clinging to his job as a means of coping. He felt guilty about finding ways to avoid thinking about her, in an attempt to move on. Medication and counselling pulled him through, and in the last three novels, he’s been able to imagine her reaction when he does daft things, how she would have teased him. Her spirit is there to that extent, but she’s not haunting him. I fought shy of adding her ghostly assistance, as there are already enough weird things going on.

I wrote a novella based on my own experiences with the supposedly dead, and a short story in which the protagonist doesn’t comprehend that he’s in a state of limbo between this world and the next, but eerie events in my novels are handled by legends, superstition and the fevered imaginings of drunks, druggies and the insane.

Ghosts needn’t be terrifying. Richard Brautigan created a brilliant spectre in The Hawkline Monster: A Gothic Western an entity that has problems of its own in the form of its rebellious shadow.

When I was a teenager, my father introduced me to the humorous writing of Thorne Smith. His best-known works are the Topper stories, one of which was filmed starring Cary Grant and Constance Bennett. Topper is a stuffy man who’s haunted by a fun-loving couple who lead him into all sorts of compromising situations.

Mind you, I sometimes feel that my muse may be haunting me, sneaking in to do some editing without my permission—as Muriel Spark describes in this poem:

Authors’ Ghosts

I think that authors’ ghosts creep back
Nightly to haunt the sleeping shelves
And find the books they wrote.
Those authors put final, semi-final touches,
Sometimes whole paragraphs.

Whole pages are added, re-written, revised,
So deeply by night those authors employ
Themselves with those old books of theirs.

How otherwise
Explain the fact that maybe after years
have passed, the reader
Picks up the book – But was it like that?
I don’t remember this . . . Where
Did this ending come from?
I recall quite another.

Oh yes, it has been tampered with
No doubt about it –
The author’s very touch is here, there and there,
Where it wasn’t before, and
What’s more, something’s missing –
I could have sworn . . .

Muriel Spark

Do you have any ghosts in your stories?

Are they out-and-out terrifying ghosts…or benevolent shades, who assist the protagonist?

Which famous ghosts do you like?

Are they scary or amusing?

If Wishes Were Horses

‘If Wishes Were Horses’ tends to float alone as a phrase these days, to describe something that we wish were true, though it derives from a 17th-century Scottish proverb-nursery rhyme:

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
If turnips were watches, I’d wear one by my side.
If “if’s” and “and’s” were pots and pans,
There’d be no work for tinkers’ hands.
As unknown authors, seeking representation or wondering how to proceed with self-publishing, it’s nice to daydream about what form any success we may have would look like.
Personally, if my Cornish Detective novels ever take off, I definitely wouldn’t want them to reach the stratospheric heights of J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, or even of any other phenomenally successful author who really can’t write very well…insert your own detested bestseller here. After all, who wants to be so successful that you become a target for kidnappers, terrorists and extortionists?
I’d be happy for my books to sell in quantities that allow me to live a comfortable low-key lifestyle, while writing more in the series, as well as publishing other forms—short stories, novellas, poetry and song lyrics—all of which I’ve written.
I’ve always had my eye on my stories being turned into a television series, and though I know I’d have little to no control over the finished product, that’s the best route to popularisation and steady earnings. Were my novels sold to an American film studio or television company, then I’m sure I’d be able to grit my teeth tight enough to tolerate their inevitable alterations to my characters. I’d hope that they keep the seaside and wilderness of my Cornish location, probably in Maine or Washington state.
Favourable reviews and the respect of my peers would be good too. It’d be great to meet some of my crime writing heroes, people like John Connolly, Michael Connelly, Lawrence Block, Andrea Camilleri and James Lee Burke.
I’d like to please the friends who’ve encouraged my writing, by being successfulNote that I’m listing the pleasant aspects of success, not the irksome obligations, such as interviews, book signings, festival appearances (might be OK) and any hoopla that I need to indulge in via social media to make me irresistible! 
As I wander with as much insouciance as I can muster through the final stage of living, it would be great to have the feelings that appear in this poem by Sir John Betjeman:
The Last Laugh
I made hay while the sun shone. 
My work sold. 
Now, if the harvest is over 
And the world cold, 
Give me the bonus of laughter 
As I lose hold.
If wishes were horses, how would your writing endeavours pan out?
Do you want to be adored?
Could you stand being despised, but wildly successful in terms of earnings?
Would your book make a decent television series or a movie?
How do you feel about being a public face, a household name, instantly recognisable and trotted out to give opinions on things that aren’t even to do with writing?
What about the reactions of your family and friends?

Disposable Characters

After noticing Colin Harrison’s long paragraphs in You Belong To Me, I was also struck by how he used characters who had a walk-on, walk-off role.

The plot of his thriller involved a couple of baddies and one good guy being killed in two separate incidents. Their bodies were accidentally discovered, having been disposed of in remote locations. The people who found them were given separate chapters, rather than a few paragraphs. Admittedly, the chapters were short at three pages, but the characterisation was so strong that they were more compelling than the protagonists.

One was a pest destroyer, specialising in the most extreme infestations of rats, which led to some stomach-churning details of how rats flourish. The other disposable character was a commercial orchard owner, who’d lost her nose to cancer as a result of the pesticides she was forced to use, meaning she wore a plastic prosthesis when in public. Sadly, these two never appeared again after they’d told the police about the corpses. They were only passing through, but they made an impact.

My crime novels are 80,000 words long, featuring about a dozen coppers and villains, with several recurring characters, such as pub landlords, newspaper reporters, a coroner and police informants. I regularly devote entire chapters to the thoughts of my hero detective or his villainous antagonist but haven’t up to now concentrated on the life of a minor player. I may give it a try!

Describing the jobs that folk do, and the landscape they work in is a great way of rounding out a story and giving it context.

How do you deal with supporting characters in your stories?

Paragraph Length

I’ve just finished reading You Belong To Me, by Colin Harrison. It’s his eighth novel, and he previously had bestsellers with The Havana Room and Manhattan Nocturne.

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One thing that struck me about his writing style, is that he composes very long paragraphs. The longest was three pages—about 112 lines—some 1,400 words! Harrison lives in New York, where his novels are set, and he’s plainly passionate about the city. Some of these lengthy paragraphs consist of him pontificating on such things as the history of shopping malls and the use of illegal steroids in muscle gyms. Interesting as these digressions were, they didn’t advance the story at all.

I was taught that a paragraph should focus on one subject, which should be discussed until it’s completed. Harrison certainly does that, though I found my attention wandering a bit, almost longing for a paragraph break.

It made me have a look at how long my paragraphs are in my five completed novels. I appear to average out at 90 words, with only a few more than 100 words. I know that when I’m writing and I see a big block of words forming, I feel compelled to break off—more out of fear of boring readers with limited attention spans, than any lack of belief in myself.

How long are your paragraphs?

Are you intimidated by long paragraphs?

Do short choppy paragraphs put you off, as they make it hard to get a grip on the story?

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