Draft blurb for The Judge of the Dead (the deadlines are coming thick and fast now)

I’m shattered after one ‘interior file’ (~manuscript) formatting problem after another, which I’m not going into. Time is of the essence. i want to finish my (paperback) cover for CreateSpace by Friday night so it’s back to fiddling about with InDesign tomorrow. Oh joy.

I’ve looked at the blurbs (back cover blarney) of a handful of books and while the variation in word count can be huge, a popular range is 90-100 words. That’s what I’ve targeted.

Without further ado, here is my draft. It won’t be draft for longer than 48 hours, max. If anyone out there has any strong opinion about it, positive or especially negative, speak now or forever hold your peace.

‘A fatal legal misunderstanding leads to human embryos being destroyed. The headlines scream: “Rhadamanthus – The Judge of the Dead”. Devastated donor Afro Eccleston smells a rat and resolves to bring the judge down. The security services are onto her but Lucky Jim Ridgewell has an Achilles heel: escort girl Honeydew, linked to East London organised crime. E-auction fraudster Magnus Gilzean has been grassed up, but there is a curious observer at his trial. If Afro can circle the connections she will set off a carousel of revenge only one can win…’

A roller-coaster week – formatting my MS for CreateSpace

This has been a real week of ups and downs, but at least I haven’t done an Alton Towers. It’s been a cycle of problem identification, solution, exaltation, smug complacency, and problem identification…

A real psychological barrier was overcome when I justified the text to both left and right margins. At the touch of a button  (or many touches, as thinking about it I may have done it chapter by chapter, even section by section) the manuscript suddenly looked like a novel, all evenly aligned along the right margins. I take back what I said on the previous post about not caring about indentations to the right margin. It looks a whole lot cleaner when justified.

At this stage I thought I was well on the way toward my target of having a finished document that I could load onto the CreateSpace website today. Ah.

Hoping to avoid potential problems with document size and formatting I downloaded a Word template 8in by 5in (paperback size) and dumped my MS into it. Easy. Nope. There were the page numbers, sitting there at the foot of the pages, right in front of my eyes. But when I went to print preview they’d gone. Except sometimes when I went to print preview they were there. Glitchy software. I messed about for hours with the settings and then decided to try to create a pdf. It fell over at page 3. At this point I decided to abandon the template and create a new blank file, mirroring the template’s margin/header/footer/etc settings but NOT using the template’s section breaks as I suspect it was these causing at least part of the problem. I decided the missing page numbers and pdf fallover could be a Mac-Windows thing so asked my stepdad to see if he could do it on his Windows machine. Yes, the page numbers were there and it dumped the whole MS into a pdf with no problem. I’m hoping this problem is now gone, as long as I go to the library and use one of their Windows machines to create my pdf. Anyone reading this who wants to make their own pdf for CreateSpace, I would avoid Word for Mac 2008 like the plague. I would also be very wary about using CreateSpace’s templates unless you are absolutely comfortable with inserting and deleting section breaks, as this seems to screw the formatting up.

At this stage I decided to hope for the best and press on, with the aim of eradicating widows and orphans, those single lines at the top or bottom of a page caused by paragraphs not magically ending or starting pages. Two lines of text seems to be acceptable but not one.

A couple of net resources proved useful. The CreateSpace community forum heavily features someone called Walton (Mendelson), clearly passionate and knowledgeable about all things print setting related. His Build Your Book pdf should be easy enough to find, although some of his answers on CS can be overly complex for those who just want a simple question answered simply.

Another useful source was a document produced by (someone at?) Tufts Uni in the US. Here it is (my alias):


That document explains how to get rid of these single lines by condensing or expanding the space between characters, down to 0.1 points (to give some idea of that scale my line height is set to 15 points). It doesn’t sound much but is very effective. However it is time-consuming. I reckon it took me about 1.5 days to finish my MS.

I say finish. Re-setting many areas of text means all the punctuation has moved around, so the original sweep through looking for colons and semi-colons at the end of lines (frowned upon) had to be reprised. I also took the opportunity to go back through and look at my treatment of dashes and hyphens, and colons and semi-colons, to see if sometimes just a comma would suffice. I also put in the old ‘* * *’ asterisms (I think they’re called?), used to denote section breaks on the last or first line of a page. I’m not sure how acceptable these are on first lines, but I think I’ll run with them. I can find them in novels. In fact, dispiritingly, I can find quite a few widows and orphans in novels too, so maybe I should have left these as they were. Still, I’ve started so I’ll finish…

That’s where I got to as of Friday night. I was looking in a really good position, but then started to have doubts about my condensing and expanding of text. Without thinking, I’d paired up pages 1 & 2, 3 & 4 etc, when in fact page 1 will be on the right on its own, and the first (double-page) ‘spread’ will be pages 2 & 3. Well I hadn’t written down what I’d done page by page so I started going through from the beginning again. Sometimes I’d condensed on one page but expanded on the other, sometimes by up to 0.3 points (+/-). I lost confidence and decided that, unless it was critical, 0.1 (+/-) should be the max adjustment. So it was that yesterday afternoon I began the exercise all over again. If I couldn’t use the spacing method I would simply make little rewrites, to add words to force a line into the next, or remove words until a line disappeared. Adding is harder. Removing is easy enough. Even in a heavily edited manuscript you can find a word or two of fluff to get rid of, or use a shorter word for a longer one.

So that’s where I am right now, 2/3rds of the way through what will hopefully be the (almost) last piece of editing-formatting. I won’t get it done tonight so will run into tomorrow. I really need to get it done and dusted in the next few days as I want to finish my paperback cover by next weekend, when I go on holiday. In order to finish the cover I need the spine width, and I won’t be able to calculate that until I know the number of pages, which I won’t know until I’ve finished the editing-formatting process.

A big week lies ahead. Better get back to it…

Praying for the Tory/UKIP dream ticket

Four years ago or so, a few chapters into my twenty-five chapter novel I foolishly predicted another hung parliament in the 2015 general election, with the Tories being coalesced – that might be a euphemism – by UKIP. As predictions go, I have to say it’s looking rather ‘good’ at the moment, but it could still all go wrong. If it does, I’ll have to rewrite the chapter, and then do a painstaking search through the rest of the manuscript to check for possible continuity errors. That would be a bit of pain in the backside to say the least, so I’m praying for a Tory/UKIP dream ticket come May.

If that means coming out of the EU, probably permanently damaging our economy; if that means picking/processing/packing labour shortages driving up the price of our home-grown crops; if that means kicking out lots of perfectly nice people including my old French mates in London, and my sweet Slovakian friend from uni…so be it. For no more rewrites, it’s a price worth paying.

If that means supporting the meanest nastiest domestic policies since 1930s Germany, including withdrawing benefits from obese people simply for being, well, a bit on the fat side; if that means painting ‘Pizza Night’ on the windows of these chubby new Jews where once others may have painted ‘Kristallnacht’…so be it. For no more rewrites, it’s a price worth paying.

Of course that might sound rather selfish on my part, and you could point out that phobia of people from mainland Europe is at best irrational, at worst racist. You could point out that if Mrs Thatch hadn’t sold off all the council houses in the 80s, then local councils would be able to place people in low cost housing instead of bed and breakfasts, thereby saving tens of billions of pounds on the benefits bill and perhaps avoiding the apparent ‘need’ to stigmatise the disabled, the obese, and whoever else is next on the hit-list, for having homes, or waistlines, or whatevers, that are ‘too big’. But proffering such apparently rational points of view would be to fail to understand the seriousness of the nightmare that I sit here facing right now. I achieved psychological closure on my novel over a year ago. I wrote ‘THE END’. There was not supposed to be any going back to the files on my hard drive and changing stuff.

So, for no more rewrites, when push comes to shove in May I’m praying for the Tory/UKIP dream ticket.

First chapters, angels, whores, and self-appointed gurus

Self-appointed gurus. The internet is full of them. Even WordPress seems full of them. They’ve got advice and want to give it to you. Maybe it’s just the medium, but communication seems to be all one-way these days. Nobody asks each other anything. They tell them how it is. No ‘What do you think?’. No, it’s all top ten things you must do, top five things you mustn’t do, top seven…come on, at least make it lucky seven, to give me some shred of hope it might change my life for the better. So, forgive the old-school tone of this post. It won’t deal in certainties, but doubts. I may even throw in a question, just to see what you think (like what people used to do). Don’t get me wrong, the ability to communicate with like minds across the globe revolutionises our lives in a positive way, but we don’t have to be so damned didactic in our dealings with each other, do we?

My irritation is only worsened by the fact that one of these top ten ‘For the Almighty’s sake don’t do this’ lists has got me wondering about my first chapter again; wondering, again, about moving another chapter to the front instead. Am I displaying a sign of weakness here? I bet that’s on a top ten list somewhere. DON’T write anything that might make a potential reader doubt you know what you’re doing. But that ignores the fact that while a chronological story can only have one form, beginning to end, there are innumerable ways to cut the story up into bits and re-arrange it again as entertainment. There is no right answer.

Some background on my novel. It’s a crime novel. Kind of. It has six ‘protagonists’ (each also antagonists), each with four chapters in which to tell their side of the story in first-person point of view (before they all come together for the final chapter). Yes, you understood that right: six first-person narrators. It’s the sort of thing a writer shouldn’t be handling unless he’s David Mitchell or whoever, and even then probably not. It’s dynamite, either in a blow yourself to smithereens sense, or a here’s a cheque for a million pounds sense. The smart money, down to every last coin, is on the former.

Why am I talking about this? Because there are potentially different ways of beginning the novel. Character A could kick it off. Any of them could, and not even with their first chapter in a chronological sense. The first chapter I wrote, originally half the length and in a different tense, was for a creative writing exercise for uni. A young lad has just been let out of prison and begins his hunt for the grass that got him sent down. You might expect that first seed of a story to have grown into chapter one of my novel. No. It’s chapter sixteen. I think it was some kind of exercise on in medias res (starting a story in the middle of the action). As such it ought to be the first chapter, before I rewind the clock in chapter two, much as you might see in a film (crash bang wallop…’four years earlier’…), but I’ve played about with its positioning and eventually settled on its largely chronological place in the story, sixteen chapters in. However, it remains an option to move it to the front.

Why would I want to, considering it sits nicely back where it is? Because of the accepted wisdom that one needs to hook the potential reader, right from the very first second they stare at the page. How could anyone argue with that? You see, that’s where Austen screwed up with her ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged’ baloney. There is no place for a phrase like that other than in a list of top ten things you must do (or not do). It’s no way to hook a novel reader. Okay, that was a bad example to unleash my sarcasm upon. Pride and Prejudice could be improved by opening with Elizabeth Bennet being found naked next to a canal, her entrails being eaten by Carrion Crows (before they’re chased away by the SOCOs), and an estimated time of death between, well, you get the picture. But my question remains: why does every novel have to grab you by the short and curlies right from the off? I can quite happily listen to music that builds slowly toward a climax. If it can apply to music, why not literature? Sure, you can’t open with crap writing, there needs to be some sort of sense of quality, and the voice needs not to be off-putting (I nearly bailed out of Cloud Atlas early on), but if the cover blurb is right, if you’ve sold the concept before the reader even turns the first page, they should be on-board, prepared to sit back and enjoy the ride, content that at some point it will all be worth the investment, shouldn’t they?

Okay, so to re-cap, we’ve got six first-person narrators, plus a refusal to have a dead body on page one and the police with a serial killer on their hands by page two (no wonder I haven’t got an agent eh?). Let’s leave the ex-con in chapter sixteen where he was. What are the alternatives? In pole position (no dancing pun intended) currently lies the escort girl, who gets roughed up a bit at chapter’s end (don’t worry, she’s a tough cookie). Is this going to put female readers off? I’ve been over and over this in my mind and I fear the answer is, yes, some. But then if I move it back to chapter two, it’s still there. It’s not gratuitous, it’s part of the story, but only I can know that for sure without revealing how I wrote the book. I want it in, and maybe sometimes you have to decide that for the sake of the integrity of the story you are going to have to accept losing some potential readers along the way, readers that may include some familiar with Freud, thinking: ‘There’s the whore, where’s the angel?’

That brings me to the remaining viable option as chapter one narrator, the other main female character: the ‘angel’. She’s the one I want to win and you possibly would too. But here’s the thing: she doesn’t get to begin to tell her side of things until chapter six. Why does that matter? Well, it might not, but I think there is more of that lovely accepted wisdom out there, that you need to identify your goodie from the beginning, so the reader can latch onto them, get behind them, become them in their minds. This argument does have its merits. If we say that generally most people are good by nature, and that most readers quickly seek to identify and then become the protagonist in their heads (especially so in first-person POV), then to avoid disturbing this good reader by making them live inside a bad character’s head, we generally get spoon-fed a goodie-protagonist we are comfortable being for the next few hundred pages (hopefully nobody really wants to be Humbert Humbert, the paedophile in Nabokov’s Lolita, charming though he may be). As sensible as it may be to load my goodie into chapter one, show her inciting incident, invite the reader to step inside her head, isn’t this just a bit too formulaic?  This is the hero(ine), all I really need to do is guess whether Sean is going to give her a Hollywood ending, or not; that’s it. It’s too easy, yet it’s textbook (and for good reason). I can imagine an editor saying ‘Look, you’ve got to open with her, it’s the rules.’

Well, I don’t like rules. I don’t like being told how to write. Surely it’s a recipe for the death of originality? I want a reader to absorb chapter one and think ‘Yeah, I could get behind this person’, but then feel the same during chapter two, chapter three, and then eventually for some backing away to kick in: ‘Hmm, I’m not sure about this guy after all, and this woman, I had her pegged all wrong from the start.’ I want ambiguity, uncertainty in there, for as long as possible. Actually what I really want is for different readers to root for different characters for different reasons, mirroring how we root for people in real life: because they’re funny, or successful, or kind, or unlucky in love, or whatever. This, to my mind, should preclude moving my ‘angel’ to chapter one, yet an editor probably would.

I thought I was past all this when I decided I was done with approaching agents; with sending the first three chapters. During that phase I’d decided that chapter three was pretty funny, enough to put a smile on the face of an agent, and providing a counterpoint to the underworld London of chapters one and two, so it needed to be ‘in’, which meant I needed to keep the front three as they were (and are); not move either chapter sixteen or six to the front. That never sat right with me, thinking about organising the chapters tactically, to help sway a third party, rather than them just be ordered how I felt best. But despite removing agents from the equation, there remains a tension between what I want and believe in, what I think readers want, and what I think an editor wants, and it’s hard to arrive at the answer, if indeed there is such a thing. You tell yourself you’re not going to listen to the little voices in your head, but then you turn on your computer, and there are the gurus, and the top ten things you absolutely must not do, and when some of that advice is from people with things called ‘qualifications’ and ‘experience’, you really have to be quite resilient not to cave in to it all, and just trust your own instincts.

Oh, I dunno. What do you think?