Went up to London last night, despite getting the fear from the government’s terrorist alerts. I really should stop reading a the stories from the 7/7 inquest.
I was up there for Victor Gollancz annual publishing bash, the only thing I currently go to like that at the moment. When one does not have a proper media job, the river of glitzy invites runs dry. But I asked to go, so they had to have me.
All the people I’ve been most impressed with in my journalistic career have been authors and publishers, and it was great to catch up with everyone. I took along my brother Tristan as my plus one (a couple of years ago I took Aidan), who had a jolly nice time, even if I did embarrass him by bringing up the time he was sick in front of Ridley Scott’s director of photography after shooting on Defiance, a potentially career damaging moment. Anyway, great to see the likes of Rob, Graham,Jo, Sam, Darren, Jon, Simon, Julie, Dave, Joe etc, plus a few faces new to me, including Chris Wooding, whose book The Fade I heartily recommend. why, I recommend it so much I spent a good few drunken minutes recommending it to him also. That’s the trouble with these things, people keep filling your wine glass up as you talk, with the result that at least 20% of the time when I’m there I spend finding out what I said at the last one off the people I’d been conversing with/ pinned into a corner.
I got home at past midnight, asleep at 1.00am, up at 6.20am, off to swimming with Benny, got kicked in the nuts in the pool. Awesome. Then he spent all day shouting very loudly. Did I mention I drank a lot of wine yesterday? I love kids, me.
This week I finished the first draft of my (hopefully only the first) Black Library novel. That means that I am now working on redrafting Richards & Klein (in the cab back to the station, I was describing the book to Joe Abercrombie, among other folks who live in Bath, “What, it’s not called something like ‘Diamond & Schwarz’ is it?” he chortled. Er, actually…) Cutting and redrafting is my favourite part of the process of writing. I’m fond of tortuous metaphors, one is that writing is a bit like chipping a statue out of a block of stone, only you have to create your own rock first.
The first draft, that’s the stone block, right? Ah, suit yourselves.
Indeed, Mr Joe Abercrombie said to me that very night that he measures success in the rewriting stage by how many words he cuts out, as opposed to the initial stages when it’s how many you write. I agree.
While redrafting the first Richards & Klein book, I’m also running the old scissors over the sample novella I wrote to set the series up. The idea is to get that up here in two parts sometime over the next few months, so keep ‘em peeled. It’s practically a short book in itself.
While we’re still on it, at the party I met a nice man called Barry Nugent, who runs an SF site named ‘Geek Syndicate‘, click on the glowy words to visit it, it’s worth a look, I assure you.
Tomorrow is dog day, when I foolishly rewrite the script of my own life for the sake of having a hound. There’ll be pictures and no doubt tedious training information. Tell your dog-loving pals to come to Haley’s Comment, the place for SF, northern whining, malamutes and chutney. It’ll be like Marley and Me but with more spaceships, and probably overall far less lucrative. If that isn’t special interest, I give up.
Now I must sleep.