Camping in the wilds - inspiration for writing about the Dark Ages

I've just come back from our annual camping trip. Every year, we go for a few days to a different campsite that allows open fires (we all feel it adds to the experience). I really enjoy getting away from the business of day-to-day life, spending time with family in an environment where we are forced to talk to each other rather than watching TV (or Youtube, in the kids' case), looking at iPhones (though there was network coverage where we stayed this year, so we could still check messages, Facebook and Twitter!), but you get the idea.

Whilst camping we have to spend much of our time preparing food, tidying up, washing up, securing the tents, lighting fires, and everything else needed to stay dry, warm, fed and alive.

On top of the quality family time and the removal from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, I also see these trips as fuel for my writing. A few people have commented about how frequently I mention the weather in THE SERPENT SWORD. This is partly due to having spent time camping. People living 1,400 years ago in Britain would find themselves prey to the whims of the elements. Much of their existence would have been governed by the weather. Could they keep warm? Would the crops grow? Rain would make things rot, or rust. They may not have been camping, having permanent houses and halls, but the lack of modern day technology would make things we take for granted difficult chores. I consider the weather and the land to be almost extra characters in the story, as they affect the action.

The Isle of Wight is beautiful

Every camping trip we make is different, but I always learn something new. A few years ago, I learnt that a campfire that is burning hot with dry wood does not go out in torrential rain.

This year, we stayed on the Isle of Wight and there were extreme weather warnings in place during our stay. Gale force winds and hammering rain lashed us for the first day of our short stay. We survived and I learnt some things I hadn't considered before.

I learnt the following things that will all be stored away and used in future writing:

• In truly windy weather, the noise of the trees and foliage whipping about is much too loud to allow you to hear anyone creeping up on you. 
• It is next to impossible to get a good fire going with sodden wood. I kind of knew that already, but there's nothing like experience. We managed to get a fire going each day, but had to resort to firelighters and dry kindling. Drying out branches and logs by the fire helped, but the fires were smokier than was all together pleasant.
• Talking of fires, anyone who has ever sat around a campfire will know that the stench of wood smoke seeps into your clothes and hair. Everyone in 7th century Britain must have stunk of smoke, and other things. Whether they would have noticed, is a different matter.
• The smoke from a campfire, even a smoky one, cannot be seen from very far away in windy conditions. The smoke hazes and is blown away quite quickly. Obviously, this is dependent on the conditions.
• Having a freezing cold shower outdoors is invigorating! I used a solar shower that, as there was no sun, had not heated the water, but I imagine washing in a river or a waterfall would give a similar effect! The washing itself was quite uncomfortable, with me scrubbing my shivering body as quickly as possible to remove the soap and shampoo. But afterwards, once dry, I felt uplifted and refreshed.

There's a bad moon rising

• A full moon on a clear night gives more than enough light to travel by. I had read this before but that is not the same as stepping out of your tent at midnight to see the camp gilded in the silver light of the near-full moon.
• When there is no wind or rain, sounds travel great distances, especially at night. When the gales had passed, one night I awoke to total silence. It was eerily quiet after the constant gusts and buffeting of the wind. As I lay there, I heard an owl hoot in the distance.

It was great to get away for a few days and, as always, I have come back with fresh ideas desperately wanting to be written into my next book.

As luck would have it, I am now up to 77,000 words of the first draft of the third of the Bernicia Chronicles: BY BLOOD AND BLADE. Beobrand and his companions are currently in the late summer of 635, and I have a feeling the weather is about to take a turn for the worse!

Book blurb for The Serpent Sword

It's been a long time since I wrote a post about my writing and I haven't actually been doing much in the last couple of months. However, that is not to say that I haven't been making progress on my novels. I completed the second draft of THE CROSS AND THE CURSE back in September and sent it off to some beta readers. Some have already come back with some very positive comments. It needs another round of edits, and when I hear back from all of the test readers and my agent, I'll give it another once over.

In the meantime, I have started plotting book 3, and even written the first chapter. I've also had a great idea for a novella set in the same time and place, perhaps as a prequel to THE SERPENT SWORD.

I have put both of those projects on hold though, while I have focused on getting THE SERPENT SWORD ready for publication. That means I have been sending it out to other authors for endorsements (I'll post their responses in a future blog post), adding details like Acknowledgements and a map to the novel, working on layout and typesetting and a cover (again, another future blog will cover some of the things I've learnt, and the software tools I've used). I hope to reveal the cover very soon - I am very proud of it.

But first, one of the things I need to do is finalise the book blurb (you know, that text on the back of the book, and probably on the Amazon page, Goodreads, etc?). It needs to be pithy and engaging, enticing people to want to read (and buy!) the book, so it is quite important, but not something I have much experience of.

So, here it is. Please comment below with your thoughts. I'm reasonably happy with it, but welcome the chance to get some feedback before I put it on the back cover of the book, and associated websites.

BRITAIN 633 A.D.

Beobrand embarks on a quest to avenge his brother in war-torn Northumbria. When his journey leads him to witness barbaric acts at the hands of warriors he considered his friends, Beobrand questions the path he has chosen and vows to bring the men to justice.

Relentless in pursuit of his enemies, Beobrand faces challenges that change him irrevocably. Just as a great sword is forged by beating together rods of iron, so Beobrand’s adversities transform him from a farm boy to a man who stands strong in the clamour and gore of the shieldwall.

As he closes in on his kin’s slayer and the bodies begin to pile up, can Beobrand mete out vengeance without losing his honour or his soul?

Set against the backdrop of the clash between peoples and religions of seventh century Britain, The Serpent Sword is the first novel of the Bernicia Chronicles.

UPDATED BLURB  

Thanks to Steven A. McKay, Beth Mann and E.M. Powell for their input and suggestions.

BRITAIN 633 A.D.

Certain that his brother’s death is murder, young farmhand Beobrand embarks on a quest for revenge in war-torn Northumbria. When he witnesses barbaric acts at the hands of warriors he considers his friends, Beobrand questions his chosen path and vows to bring the men to justice. 

Relentless in pursuit of his enemies, Beobrand faces challenges that change him irrevocably. Just as a great sword is forged by beating together rods of iron, so his adversities transform him from a farm boy to a man who stands strong in the clamour and gore of the shieldwall.

As he closes in on his kin’s slayer and the bodies begin to pile up, can Beobrand mete out the vengeance he craves without sacrificing his own honour … or even his soul? 

The Serpent Sword is the first novel of the Bernicia Chronicles.

Let me know what you think. Watch this space - there'll be more news soon. 

A bit of writing revisited - the power of editing

Way back in December 2012, when I was only halfway through the first draft of THE SERPENT SWORD, I posted a small sample of the novel here. Well, since then I completed the draft and then made quite a lot of changes in subsequent edits and I thought it might be interesting to compare the same passage in the version of the manuscript that is currently under consideration with publishers.

Have a look at the before and after if you like and let me know what you think. Anything surprise you about decisions I have taken? Are there any bits that you think are significantly better? Or worse? Any comments, don't be shy.

Before you get into reading the sample, just a quick mention about where I am at with the sequel and how the search for a publisher is going.

I am still waiting to hear back from some publishers, so fingers crossed and watch this space. Positive thoughts, everyone!

The sequel to THE SERPENT SWORD, working title, THE CROSS AND THE CURSE, is now at 104,000 words of the first draft. I can see the light at the end of the creative tunnel. I'm looking forward to completing it and then having a break before getting stuck into the edits.

Until then, enjoy the summer and I hope you enjoy this snippet from chapter 3 of THE SERPENT SWORD.

Comments welcome.

Extract from THE SERPENT SWORD

Bassus woke Beobrand the next day before dawn. Men were readying themselves all around them. Many were vomiting, leaving steaming puddles dotted throughout the encampment. Bassus handed him his spear and made sure he was holding his shield correctly. Bassus was wearing his full armour and in the dark he looked like a giant from a scop's tale.

"Here, take this." Bassus handed Beobrand a seax. It was short, not much more than a knife, with a simple bone handle. The single-edged blade shimmered with the patterns of finely-forged metal. "It doesn't look like much, but it is a good blade and holds its edge well. Once we are in close, you'll find it more use than the spear. Your brother gave it to me and it served me well. He would have wanted you to have it."

Beobrand thanked him and they walked together towards the edge of the camp. The shieldwall was forming there. Edwin had taken Bassus' advice and set up camp to the east of the Mercian and Waelisc host, so that when they attacked, the sun would be in the eyes of their enemies.

Nearing the centre of the line, Beobrand saw that Edwin and Osfrid were standing there, metal-garbed, battle-ready and proud, with their gesithas around them. They parted and allowed Bassus and Beobrand to take up places in their ranks.

Beobrand looked along the line. Spears bristled, held aloft, a deadly winter forest. Armour and weapons jingled. Somewhere a man laughed. A short, wiry man to his left drew a stone slowly along the length of his seax with a grinding rasp. Beobrand's whole body thrummed. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Bassus said in a calm voice, "Easy now, Beobrand. This is your first battle and you will not be wanting to die in it, so listen to me." Bassus took off his helmet and Beobrand could just make out the scar running above his left eye. "Use what I have shown you. If you stick by me, you'll be all right. And remember, if I get one of their shields down, get in quick and skewer the bastard."

Beobrand nodded and turned his attention towards the enemy. Cadwallon's and Penda's hosts had seen the Northumbrians readying for battle and they were forming their own shieldwall. They stood in a ragged line at the top of a small rise, the sky behind them a dark purple. In between the land was flat and boggy. To the centre of the enemy line Beobrand made out a standard bearing a wolf's head and several wolves' tails. To the left of that he saw another banner, this one carried a human skull and a crossbeam from which dangled what appeared to be human scalps. The men below those standards were lifting up spears, and hefting shields. Preparing for battle. Preparing to kill.

Smoke billowed from the campfires behind them, mingling with the ground fog.

Would one of the men he could see in the dim pre-dawn light kill him soon? He felt sick all of a sudden and started breathing through his mouth in an effort to calm his stomach. He closed his eyes and leant his head against the ash haft of his spear.

Images from the last six months flooded his mind. Edita's tiny body, swaddled in a shroud being lowered into the ground. Rheda, sweet Rheda, her hollow eyes boring into his as he mopped her burning brow with a cool cloth. She tried to smile for him even then. His mother, shaking with fever, lying on the straw-stuffed mattress, soaked in sweat, reaching out to clench his hand in a grip that belied her frailty.

"Don't stay here, Beobrand!" she had hissed. "You have nothing to bind you here now. I know you wish to be gone, to seek out your brother. You were meant for greater things than tilling the land, my son." She had closed her eyes. Her breathing was so shallow he'd thought her spirit had left.

Then her eyes had opened again and she had spoken for the final time, summoning all her strength to say those last words.

"You...are...not...your...father's...son..."

What had she meant? He would never know. Her breath had left her with a sigh and his father's bones now lay in the charred remains of his house.

 "Wake up, boy!" Bassus' gruff voice brought Beobrand back to the present. To the battle. To kill or be killed.

All of his dreams with Octa and Selwyn had come to this. He had taken heed of his mother's words and left Hithe. His father had confronted him for the last time. He was a farm boy no longer. He was a warrior in Edwin of Northumbria's warband.

He cast a glance at Bassus and the huge warrior flashed his teeth in a grin.

#

The sun was just beginning to peak out over the trees, shedding a pale light over the battlefield. The Northumbrian warriors cast long shadows in front of them.

"Come, my countrymen!" shouted Edwin. "The moment of truth is now upon us. You have answered my call to the fyrd and stand here shield to shield with your kinsmen in defence of the land that is ours by right of blood.

"I am Edwin, son of Aella, direct descendant of Woden. The blood of the old gods flows in my veins and the new God, the Christ, is on our side. Paulinus has blessed us in His name and I have promised to build Him a great church when he grants us victory.

"We cannot be defeated this day. Together we will send these pagans to hell where they belong.

"I will quench my sword's thirst in the blood of these Waelisc and Seaxon Mercians."

He flourished his fine battle-blade above his head. It glinted in the dim sunlight.

"Take up your weapons with me. Guide them with cunning and might. 

"Kill them all! Attack them now and kill every one of them!"

"For Edwin!" came back the raucous response from the host, Beobrand's voice as loud as the next man's.

The shieldwall surged forward. Beobrand felt his shield bang against the man on his left as they ran. He tried to keep pace and to hold his shield in the right position. He could hardly believe what was happening; what had been a distant dream was now vivid reality. And then there was no more time for thinking. The men around him let fly their javelins with shouts of defiance. At the same time, the enemy threw theirs. Beobrand had no javelin but he watched as the light throwing spears were silhouetted against the sky. Those of each side mingled together at the apex of their flights, and then he could see the burnished point of one spear glinting as it fell straight towards him.

He raised his shield above his head and kept running. Something hit the rim of the shield, but he was not wounded. The man to his left screamed, tripped and fell. Beobrand caught a glimpse of a javelin piercing the man's right leg just above the knee. He looked away. The enemy were mere steps away.

The two shield lines crashed together like waves hitting a cliff. Beobrand's shield smashed against another. He pulled back, trying to get an opening at the warrior in front of him. As he did so, he realised it was a mistake. His opponent, a brutish, red-bearded Waelisc, wearing a leather helm, pushed hard as he stepped back. Beobrand lost his balance and fell sprawling to the muddy ground. The Waelisc warrior, smiling at how easily he had broken through the shieldwall, pulled back his spear for the killing blow. Beobrand tried to rise, but the Waelisc moved in too quickly for him to get to his feet.

But at the moment the spear point came hurtling towards Beobrand's exposed chest, Bassus turned and parried the blow with an over arm swing of his barbed spear. He swung with such force that the warrior lost his grip. The spear fell harmlessly to the ground next to Beobrand.

With practised skill and uncanny agility, Bassus thrust his spear into the Waelisc's wooden shield. The barbs caught, and Bassus leant on the spear shaft, using his weight to pull the shield down.

"Now, boy!" Bassus shouted, struggling to hold on to his spear and avoid the cleaver-like blade the Waelisc had unsheathed. Beobrand scrambled to his feet. He snatched up his spear and, letting out a roar that was lost in the tumult of battle, thrust his spear at the Waelisc's midriff. The man attempted to parry, but was hampered by his trapped shield. He only succeeded in deflecting the spear upwards towards his unprotected face. With all Beobrand's weight behind the thrust the point grazed over the man's right cheekbone and pierced his eye. He collapsed instantly and the sudden dead weight on his spear pulled Beobrand down. He stumbled, landing in a heap on the warrior's twitching corpse.

The anvil sound of metal on metal and the screams and grunts of warriors crashed around him. He struggled to free his spear from the eye socket of the warrior, but it was lodged fast. He pulled for a few heartbeats and then remembered the seax that Bassus had given him. He unsheathed it. It felt natural in his grip and with abandon, he threw himself into the rift in the shieldwall. He had killed an enemy and all his fear had vanished like morning dew in the light of the sun. The noise of battle subsided around him and an inner calm washed over him.

A snaggle-toothed man with blood-shot eyes, peeked over a shield in front of him. Beobrand's seax flicked out over the shield and rammed down the man's throat. Bassus was screaming beside Beobrand, hacking and slashing with his sword, splinters from the enemies' shields making a dusty cloud about him. The Northumbrian line was moving forward. A fallen warrior clawed at Beobrand's leg, whether friend or foe, Beobrand neither knew nor cared. Battle lust was upon him and he had no time for the wounded. He stamped on the man's fingers, feeling them snap under his foot and pushed his shield forward to meet the next enemy.

The enemy shieldwall parted and a grey-haired man wearing a fine suit of scale mail stood before him. He was wielding a blood-drenched sword and there was a pile of corpses at his feet. Beobrand thought not of the danger. He saw a gap in the line and walked forward to fill it. The old warrior looked surprised and almost saddened as Beobrand, with no armour and only a splintered shield and short seax for protection, walked towards him.

Something in the warrior's grim features penetrated through the red mist that had descended on Beobrand. He looked around to see where Bassus and the other Northumbrians were, searching for aid against this mighty warrior. Too late he saw that he had become cut off from his shieldwall. The tide of the battle had shifted and the Mercians and Waelisc had outflanked the Northumbrians. Edwin's host had fallen back towards the encampment, leaving Beobrand stranded and surrounded by enemies.

END OF EXTRACT

Things are looking up

It's been a good few weeks.

The incessant rain seems to have finally decided to stop. We've even had some warm weather. Foggy mornings, and hazy sunshine have replaced the floods.

I am making very good progress on The Cross and The Curse, the sequel to The Serpent Sword. I am up to 34,000 words on the first draft and adding another 3,000 or 4,000 words each week. I am guessing it will be about 120,000 words when complete, so I'm about a quarter of the way through. I have written a synopsis for it, which I didn't do at this stage for The Serpent Sword. It was a real challenge, but something very worthwhile, as it has really helped me to focus on the plot. Writing it has even thrown up some twists and turns that I had not expected when I was just dreaming the story up in my head. The best thing was that my agent liked the synopsis.

Oh yes, did I say agent?

That's right. The biggest news of all is that I am now represented by a literary agent! Robin Wade, of Wade & Co Literary Agency, is now my agent! He plans to pitch The Serpent Sword to senior editors of major publishing houses at the London Book Fair in April. I am over the moon, as this is a huge step and one that I believed would take a lot longer. Having a reputable literary agent with a proven track record means I can knuckle down to writing book 2 and hopefully, await good news when my book gets sold to an editor. Agents sell books to editors for a living and act as the first gatekeepers in the traditional publishing world. Robin's acceptance of my book is a huge vote of confidence in the quality of my writing. He thinks it is good enough to be published and I am now closer to getting that elusive book deal.

So that makes two of us who think it should be published. I hope a publisher soon joins the exclusive club of fans of my work!

Discovery Day and Pitching Novels to Agents: Video Blog

Here is my first ever video blog. In it, I talk about the Discovery Day event I attended in Foyles and how the novel pitching went.

Let me know if you enjoy the video. If it is popular, I will do some more in the future.

Pitching my novel

I am knackered! Work and life are both busy, but I have been furiously getting myself ready for the event this Saturday, where I'm going to pitch my novel to agents.

Following the comments I got on my last post, and some research, I have come up with the following (with a lot of help from my lovely wife too!):

Can a young man mete out vengeance without losing his honour or his soul?
Beobrand embarks on a quest for revenge in 7th century Britain. On his journey he joins a group of warriors, but when they rape and murder a young woman, Beobrand questions the path he has chosen and vows to bring the men to justice.

What do you think?
Last chance to give me some comments! Any inputs much appreciated! 

Time: Where does it go and what do I do with it?

Well it has been over a month since my last confession blog post. I always find it difficult to set aside time for the blog, there is just so much else going on, and most of those other things take a higher priority than scribbling down random thoughts for a few nameless strangers to read online. However, if you are one of those strangers who stumbles across my blog and finds it even a tiny bit interesting, I would love to hear from you. A comment on this blog, or a tweet to me, or a "like" of my Facebook page, makes it all worthwhile and gives me a warm feeling inside. So don't be shy - get in touch and make me a happy man.
So, what have I been busy with? Besides work, which has been quite hectic of late, school has started, with the inevitable barrage of children's activities. I have been fulfilling that duty of many a parent: taxi driver. On top of that are all the usual jobs that a husband and father needs to do (and frequently doesn't do fast enough, or well enough), such as cleaning, cooking, securing the trampoline in the garden before the recent huge storm. You know the kind of thing.
I also sing in a band, and rehearsing and playing gigs takes up a lot of my time. It's a hard life, but someone has to do it!
So, as you can imagine, there is precious little time left for writing, and what time there is, I spend working on my novel, and not on this blog. Therefore, I hope you feel special that I am writing this just for you right now.

Editing, research and opportunities

The summer has flown by and I've been having a great time with my family. Time to go back to the day job now (boooo!) but also thought I should update on how I've been getting on with the novel and what I have planned for the next few weeks and months.
For the last couple of months I have been going through a printed copy of my manuscript, marking it up with notes and comments. I have also been getting feedback from my first test readers (most of whom have given very positive comments).
So now I have started working on the next draft of the novel, working through my edits on the manuscript, adding content where necessary, changing the point of view of certain passages, and adding back story to characters.
Some of this requires extra research as I stumble on areas that are missing depth. As part of that extra research, I am travelling to Northumberland in a couple of weeks to see some of the locations that feature in the story.

Bebbanburg

I already know I have taken certain liberties with geography, so after revisiting the sites again for the first time since I was a teenager, I will have to decide which of those liberties I feel comfortable leaving in the story and which I'll have to change. In the end though, the story is more important to me than the historical accuracy, so I am sure to annoy some purists.
I'll write a blog post about the visit to modern day Bernicia in a few weeks.
I've also started investigating in more detail how to go about getting an agent. Once I have completed the current draft I will be sending out submission letters to agencies hoping to get representation. I'll also send out a copy of the novel to a few more test readers who have registered an interest.
In my investigation into agents I discovered an event at Foyles in London. I applied to go and got accepted, so on 16th November I will be pitching my novel to agents from Curtis Brown Creative and Conville & Walsh Literary Agency. The event isn't aimed at getting representation, but it should be a great experience, and a chance to meet other writers as well as publishing professionals.
All in all, exciting times. Wish me luck and who knows what the next couple of months will bring?

Don't let the voices hold back your writing!

Writing is tough.
Getting any semblance of good writing polished and ready to be read by others is difficult. It takes time and dedication, not to mention a good dose of talent. Oh, and a lot of hard work, of course.
Writing a novel is so hard it makes my toes curl. It consumes you. You have to plan it, then write a draft (which takes months or even years), then edit it, then edit it some more and redraft, then listen to people's comments about it and all the while you can hear the niggling voice of doubt whispering (or shouting) in your ear. "Your book is rubbish! Nobody is going to want to read it! Your characters are not likable. Your plot is thin. The story doesn't make sense."
I am still working on my first novel and I am currently in the phase where I have completed the first draft and I'm editing it to make it better. And I hear that voice of doubt everyday.
One part of me loves the book and my characters. I marvel at how I have managed to write almost a hundred thousand words (that is a tenth of a million, people!) and stay more of less sane. And those words actually tell a story, that actually makes sense!
But another part of me - the insidiously scared and pathetically weak part - thinks it is probably all a pile of crap and I should get back to doing something I do well (like singing in my band, perhaps).
I am sure every writer has these feelings of self-doubt (there are countless blogs and accounts of this phenomenon), but I don't know why we always have to question our abilities. Does it make us somehow better? Do we strive to improve because we question our skills?
Talking of singing, as I did rather incongruously a moment ago. For many years in my teens, I would sing and the default response from people would be to criticise me. "Stop singing - it's going to rain!" was one of my particular favourites. It really knocked my confidence and it took me a long time to understand that those people were not criticising my singing (I could, and still can sing well), they were just saying something negative as it is easier than saying something nice.
Think about it. We all do it.
It is easier to put someone down than it is to boost their morale. I think the voice inside our heads telling us we cannot do it, or we are not good enough, is just the same thing. It is so much easier to assume the worst than to praise our own talents.
What we need to do is use that fear to push us to improve our writing. We should never give in to the negativity. That way lies madness, unpublished books and broken dreams.
If we can learn to listen just the right amount, the voice can help us improve a weak plot point, or give a character more depth. But if the voice is holding you back, and you are paralysed, unable to submit your manuscript, it is time to tell it to shut up and just get on with it.
Things are rarely as bad as the voice would have you believe!

Emotional depth and rounded characters

I haven't written a blog post in quite a while. I keep thinking of things I could write about, but then life takes over and writing a blog post gets pushed to the bottom of the "to do" list.
Since my last blog, I have not done a whole lot of writing, but the book is always in my mind. I had given the first 15,000 words to an editor for assessment and was waiting on that feedback before working further on the book. I had also given the latest draft of The Serpent Sword to some close friends to read and was eagerly awaiting their responses. After all, there would be no point in continuing to polish the book, if everyone hated it. Of course, this is the writer's nightmare, but one that is hard to ignore. What will they say about my writing? Will they like it? Will they lie? How will I know if they do? The insecurities of creativity are rife when letting others read your work for the first time.
So I waited anxiously for feedback, and given the aggressive schedule I had set for myself to get the first draft completed, I really felt like I needed a break. I know that my family would agree with that! So I have taken it easy on the writing front. I did jot down some synopsis ideas for the sequel, and even started to write the first chapter, but most of my free time has been spent doing other things.
Then, after a few days I started to get some positive feedback from a couple of the test readers. This was very encouraging. It appeared they were actually enjoying reading the story that I had written! What a great feeling. All the long hours of toil suddenly seemed worthwhile. In my mind my book was going to be a masterpiece, selling in dozens of languages, made into a film and a super series on HBO.

The Serpent Sword the next big thing on HBO?

Then I got the feedback from the editor and her comments, whilst on the whole positive, chipped away at the image I had of my book. The areas she mentioned needed most work were the very same things that my wife had commented on: the characters lacked emotional depth, their motivations needed to be made more clear through interior monologue.
I railed against the feedback. To add more emotional depth would somehow feminise the male characters in the novel.

Does my bum look big in this dress?

I asked myself searching questions. How much did people, especially men, really think about things in the seventh century?
Then I allowed myself to think a bit more on the comments (and spoke with my wife, who provides a very good sounding board) and I understood that it was not a case of making the characters more touchy-feely, or have them incessantly dwelling on each decision they make. What was needed was to make the characters deeper, and therefore, easier to relate to and more believable.

I needed to make my characters more rounded and three-dimensional

I am happy with the story as it is, but realised that in my efforts to complete the draft quickly I had cut corners which I don't think it is possible to cut and still produce a great book. I had created characters that did not have rich back stories. I didn't know them inside out and so the readers did not fully believe in them.
So, what's next?
I have decided to write detailed back stories for each of the main characters, so that I understand them. So that at each stage of the novel their decisions will make sense. Having these details will also allow me to add a smattering of anecdotes and tiny reminiscences that will add depth and an overall sense of reality.

It means I have a lot of work left to do, but I know it is the right thing. The book will be better for it, and I am already learning some very interesting things about the protagonist!

Just keep it simple!

I was struggling. Writing and rewriting parts of a pivotal chapter. The chapter when the protagonist is involved in events that shape his character. Actions that set in motion his story arc for the rest of the book.

Nothing worked. I knew it, which is why I kept going back and redoing sections. The problem was that I had tried to do something clever with the timeline. I started the chapter in one point in time, a couple of months from where the last chapter left off, and then I recounted the events that had occurred in the intervening months, bringing the action back to the original timeline. It was convoluted and I'm sure would work in many books. In fact, I've read similar things numerous times. But in my story, where everything up to that point had been in chronological order it was jarring.
I talked it through with my beautiful, supportive, wise and very well-read wife, and she gave me a great piece of advice.

"It's your first book," she said. "Don't use tricks, just keep it simple."

At first I argued the case for keeping the structure the way I had laid it out. It was clever. It wasn't exactly a flashback and it should work. But in the end, I understood that, as so often in my life (though not always, despite what she thinks!), my wife was right.
I went back to the chapter and rewrote it to just flow in chronological order. And you know what? It works.
So, if you are struggling with a tough piece of storytelling, perhaps the answer is as simple as that - just keep it simple!

A glimpse of the muse

It has been over a month since I last posted on this blog and I thought I should write a quick update to prove that I haven't disappeared or given up on the book. I haven't. I have been focusing on the first draft and I'm still on track to meet my first deadline of getting it complete by the end of March.

I am now up to 89,700 words and the end is in sight. I am in the last chapter, or maybe there'll be one more. I'm not sure. Extra things keep happening in the story that I didn't know would take place, which is weird. It is like magic. The words come and events transpire in this fictional story that didn't exist before. It is hard to know if it is any good, but it is new, and it comes from nowhere.
The muse. Imagination. Whatever you call it, it is a strange feeling when characters do things you weren't expecting when you sat down to write that day. I know some writers map out every beat and every tiny scene in their stories before they write, but I am enjoying not knowing everything in advance.

So now, until I come back to report that I've finished the first draft, I'll leave you with a little excerpt from it. A glimpse of the muse at work.

"From between two of the charcoal mounds stepped a tall warrior. He walked with the relaxed confidence of one assured in his power. He was clad in leather and metal, his hair was dark and unkempt. He exuded strength and malevolence in equal measure.  

Strang stared at the man’s face. If he needed any further proof of what had happened and what was soon to pass, that face took any doubt from his mind. It was hard, with dark shadows veiling the eyes. And it was horribly disfigured. A raw, red, seeping scar ran from the man’s left eyebrow all the way down to his lightly-bearded chin. When he smiled, the scar seemed to smile too, pulling his face into a distorted mask. The other side of his face was undamaged, and he would probably once have been handsome. But he was now repulsive. His was a ghoulish face, like some monster stepping from the darkness of a mead hall tale into the light of day."

Progress report and plan

I'm nearly 65,000 words in to the first draft. It's been a productive first week of 2013 but I still have a long way to go. I'd naively thought that the book would be about 70,000 words long (the minimum length of a novel), but I now realise that it will be longer than that. Probably somewhere around 100,000 words or a bit more. Of course, that all depends on how the story develops, and how many words it takes to write it!
Here is my tentative plan for the next few months:

1. Complete the first draft by Easter.
2. Put the draft on ice for a few weeks so that I can look at it with fresh eyes.
3. Read through the draft and mark up areas that need extra work. I'm anticipating that there will be a few bits that are lacking detail (historic and otherwise), and a bit of restructuring will be required. I already know of a few sections where I have changed my mind and need to rewrite what happens to better serve the story.
4. Add extra content and do the rewrites.
5. Once the second draft is ready (not really sure how long that will take - part of me thinks it will take a long time - probably a few months), I plan to send the draft manuscript off to a few friends and family as test readers. With the draft I'll send a questionnaire for the test readers to fill in. The questionnaire will aim to pinpoint where readers were bored, or confused, which characters they liked or disliked, that sort of thing.
6. Hopefully the test readers will return the questionnaires and I'll act on their comments by honing the manuscript into a third draft.
7. At that stage, I'll find a professional editor to edit the manuscript.
8. Do all the rewrites the editor asks for (or argue with the editor!).
9. The final manuscript will then be ready. I'd like to think that could be sometime towards the end of 2013, or perhaps more realistically early 2014.
10. Publish. I'll probably self-publish as an ebook, but that is a decision I'll need to take then. If I do self-publish, I'll need to work on other things like a website, formatting, a cover design etc. But that will be for another post in the future.

So, as you can see there are lots of things to occupy my time for the next year, but first thing's first - I'd better get that draft finished.