Mini review of The Pagan Lord by Bernard Cornwell

The Pagan Lord by Bernard Cornwell
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

More tales of Uthred from the master storyteller. This is not the best book in the series, and at times it felt a little like Cornwell was treading water, or trying to find a direction for the plot. However, the characters are strong as always and the final build up and grisly, gripping battle at the end provide the necessary and fulfilling pay off for the story.

View all my reviews

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.

A trip to Northumbria - Part 1: Dunstanburgh Castle

The cold rain beat against my face. It blew in from the churning slate-grey of the North Sea. Clouds roiled above, heavily-laden; the weather was not going to break for some time, though there were small patches of lighter sky that hinted at the sun trying to push its way through the gloom. I pulled my collar up and trudged on. Water streamed down my face and I regretted not having put up my hood when I had set out from the tiny village of Craster on the mile and a quarter long walk to Dunstanburgh Castle. Too late now. I was already drenched and there was still quite a trek to go.
The elements were trying to dampen my spirits, but I was happy. For this was the first time I had been back to this wonderful place for over thirty years and it felt like coming home. I lived in Northumberland for three years as a child and I fell in love with the rugged coastline then. Dunstanburgh Castle had always been one of my favourite places, and as I had driven into Craster that morning in the hire car, I had felt an almost overwhelming sense of belonging. I experienced such strong emotions that I wondered how it was possible for somewhere in which I had spent such a relatively small amount of time to feel like home.
The area of Northumberland roughly corresponds to the kingdom of Bernicia, which is where I chose to set my novel, The Serpent Sword. So it was with relish that I seized the chance to visit when my wife said she had a study day at Northumbria University in Newcastle as part of her degree course. It all made perfect sense: she would do her study day, I would visit some of the locations in my novel and we would then spend a couple of days together while my parents looked after our kids. Everyone's a winner. Well, except perhaps my parents...
That morning had been a bit awkward. My wife was extremely nervous about meeting her tutors and fellow students at the start of her final year dissertation, but I was as excited as a child about to go to the funfair. I tried not to show it, but failed miserably. She can always read my moods easily. After a while of putting up with my nervous chatter and bouncy good humour over breakfast, while she stewed with worry over how she was going to tackle her dissertation, she told me that karma was a bitch and I'd get my payback for being so happy when she was so wound up. I toned it down and shut up.
After dropping her off at the university with suitably supportive words and a new leather-bound notebook I had bought for her in an attempt to undo my earlier thoughtlessness, I jumped in the hire car, set the sat nav on my phone, and set off for the first of the three places I planned to visit before being back at the hotel by six o'clock. It was nearly eleven in the morning, so time was ticking and I would need to rush to see all three sites: Dunstanburgh Castle, Bamburgh Castle and Gefrin.
An hour later I was at Craster and setting off on the damp walk to Dunstanburgh Castle. The castle was built several centuries after the events in my novel, but I have loved it ever since I first visited as a child. It is a very atmospheric place and as it is a castle on a cliff over the North Sea and only a few miles south of Bamburgh, I think I had merged the two castles together into one place in my mind. Perhaps even adding another place in Scotland into the mix too -- St. Abb's Head.
As I walked towards the ruins I looked out at the waves crashing into the rocky beach and images from my story flooded my mind.

"Far away on the horizon, beyond the sun-dappled waves of the Whale Road, storm clouds were brewing."

The sound of the waves, constant, yet ever-changing permeated the whole site. I would have heard the same crash, roar and occasional slap of waves breaking on the rocks if I had walked along this stretch of beach in the year 633 AD. The world changes so fast, but so much is just the same as it was for our forebears and it is easy in places such as Dunstanburgh Castle, especially on a blustery day with few people around, to imagine yourself transported to a past age.

Dunstanburgh Castle overshadows the area

When I reached the castle, I wandered around the ruins, taking care not to slip on the slick stones. I sat on a green, weathered rock inside the keep, sheltering from the rain and ate the sandwich I'd brought. I checked the time on my mobile phone, the reliance on modern technology bringing the present crashing back, and realised I'd need to hurry back to the car. There were still two more places for me to visit.

The ruins look out ominously over the beach and surf

I walked back as quickly as I could, the rain heavier now, really soaking me through. When I reached the gate back to Craster, I took shelter for a moment under the awning of the National Trust van and had a brief chat with the man (one Andrew Harkinns, I think his name tag said) who was there. His job was to sign up new members for the National Trust, but I don't think he was doing much business.
He asked me if I was going anywhere else and I mentioned I was off to Bamburgh and then Gefrin. He had never heard of Gefrin, so I briefly told him where it was and what its importance was in the seventh century (which I will cover in another blog). When I mentioned I was a "struggling author", he said I was the second author he'd talked to in as many days, though the other one was not struggling. Apparently she had told him she was number 48 in the Amazon Historical Romance chart. I've no idea who she was, but lucky her!

As I left, Andrew promised he'd look up Gefrin and me online, so if he has found this blog - hello!

I headed back to my car and continued up the coast for the second of my destinations: Bamburgh Castle. In the time of my novel it was called Bebbanburg and was the seat of power of the Bernician kings.

My visit to Bebbanburg, retracing the steps of my book's protagonist, will be a tale for my next blog post.

A nice couple from Yorkshire took a photo of me to prove I was really there

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!