A.B. Finlayson's Blog, page 7

Flibbertygibbets and jiggerypokery

A lot has happened in a short space of time so I thought I’d write a little post to let everyone know what the flibbertygibbets is going on.

– The Book and the Blade has a new release date – February 28th, 2023. I’ve known for quite a while that this was going to happen and I’ll be honest, I was gutted at first, but it is for the best. The reason is due to some jiggerpokery at the publishers that meant the original schedule couldn’t be kept. Not really a problem, my debut novel will still come out in my 40th year and I think that’s pretty cool.

– About that ‘debut novel’ thing. Well, The Book and the Blade might not end up being my debut after all. I still have a publisher interested in getting Rock Zombie into print… there’s a small chance it could happen before February, but who knows?

– I finished another book. This one is set where I live in Australia and is called The Last Witch in Brisbane. There is an uncomfortable number of people beta reading it for me. I’m scared.

– Speaking of other books, there are four Arthur Crazy stories in total and they are all complete. In fact, it’s really surreal to me that no one has read Arthur’s first adventure and I’ve finished a whole story arc!

– The cover for the second book will be announced sooner than you think and hopefully, the release of the four books will be more condensed than first planned.

– Each book will be available in eBook, hardback and paperback formats from pretty much anywhere you can buy books. There is also a possibility of an audiobook release but I’m not 100% on that just yet.

– Last but not least, following advice from people I really respect, I have delved into the young person’s world of TikTok. I don’t know what I’m doing and honestly, once I’ve waded past all the shiny young people waving their tits at the camera I feel more than a little uncomfortable being there… so I’m going about it with my usual sense of professionalism and attention to detail.

Oh, and I’m writing. In fact, I’m writing the story I’ve wanted to write since before I could read (, but more on that later.

Cheers folks!

A creature of habit or a writer of little imagination

Proper authors get asked questions like “what is your writing routine?” or “how do you fit writing into your day?” or “how do you get motived?”

As an imposter I thought it would be interesting to explore my own routine a little (such as it is).

It’s nothing fancy…

I have long periods of doing absolutely nothing and then equally long periods where I write like a starving dog attacking a packet of hot chips. I’m coming off the back of an extended keyboard absence now and can feel myself itching to get stuck into some chips loaded with salt and vinegar and scraps (if you’re not from England, look it up). In fact, I’m already there. For the last two weeks I’ve averaged over 1000 words a day. I’d suggest at least 70% of those words are nonsense but they are words and it is much easier to polish a turd than polish a turd that doesn’t exist.

I know what you’re thinking… I should write motivational posters.

My thing is, I know I’m getting back into a serious writing space when my audiobook rotation floats back to Stephen King and Terry Pratchett.

I listen to books or podcasts every day when I walk my dog but every now and then I get the urge to stop what I’m listening to and restart On Writing or A Slip of the Keyboard. This always corresponds with the dog-eating-chips itch to write. Today, I lined up both of these books and listened to half an hour each, though I must admit, when Sir Terry talks about his experiences in ‘not quite Australia but somewhere a little like it’ I have to stop laughing before I can start writing. I love that man.

So, that’s it really. I’m not quite sure what the point of this post is… just that when I get into a serious writing mood I listen to those two audiobooks and, oh yes, I started this post yesterday and I’m already halfway through On Writing (again… for the tenth time!)… and I’ve got another 1300 words of polishable turds under my belt.

Someone somewhere talked about burning the candle at both ends. I find you get more done if you light a match in the middle.

Whoring myself out to publishers…

The wonderful thing about being a writer is the joy you get from putting your heart and soul into a piece of work, spending hours, days, weeks, years poring over it, making it as amazing as possible, as perfect as possible, getting it polished and ready to hand out to the world and then giving it to complete strangers and waiting a small eternity for them to send you a form letter saying “ha ha ha! this is shit!” or, better yet, never hearing from them again.

Mmm, makes you feel all warm and cosy.

Clearly, I’m being facetious. Sending your books out is a bloody nightmare! It is especially worse for slightly introverted people (and let’s be honest, many authors are as their entire job is to close themselves away from people and make shit up in a dark room) because the last thing we want is for anyone to actually read it, but of course, we also want everyone to read it!

To paraphrase Hemmingway…

Writing is easy. You just sit at a computer and bleed.

Submitting to a publisher is easier… you just stand naked in front of people and wait for them to judge you. (And let me tell you, size is definitely an issue!)

When I first started sending books out I basically whored myself with very little in the way of research. There was definitely an arrogance there on my part. I’ve put all this work in, it must be good enough. It wasn’t. Oh, and I aimed big. Who publishes Neil Gaiman’s books? Terry Pratchett’s? They’ll do for me! It’s almost impossible to get yourself through the door of one of the big five without an invite (that’s the reason, honest!) so I threw my book to every small publisher I could find. I got instant answers… and that felt so good… but they all gushed over the opportunity they were giving me to pay them a shit ton of money. Eventually, as I think I’ve mentioned before, I did my research and it worked out well for the Arthur stories, but here we go again. Time to send some books out and see what happens.

I’ve done my research. I have a list (hell, I have a spreadsheet) and I know all the rules, but it’s a massive ball ache. Writing books is hard… summarising everything within your book in 500 hundreds words or less while trying to keep some of the magic and mystery alive… is a bloody nightmare! And some publishers get really cranky if you send it to more than one at a time, but here’s the thing with that, waiting 6 months to get a rejection letter means you can drag out the process for years! That’s one rule I frequently break. When I send books out, I send them out in droves! Another rule the great Conn Iggulden has suggested people take with a pinch of salt is the one asking for the first three chapters only. He reckons just send the whole lot in because if they like it they have it right there ready and waiting. But, to be fair, who is going to reject a Conn Iggulden book these days? The guy is a legend, churning out bestseller after bestseller.

So, I’ll be breaking a few rules this weekend and no doubt having a few beverages in the evening to drown my sorrows. There’s nothing quite like that post-click send glow when you realise you’ve addressed it to the wrong person, or you spelled something incorrectly, or you get it into your head that they should have already read it and sent you a six-book deal within half-an-hour of receiving the email.

And of course, instead of actually sending out submissions I’m writing this, but now we’re at the end…

Wish me luck!

A few things…

There are now less than seven weeks to go until The Book and the Blade is released into the wild so I thought I’d write a little post in order to give some updates.

– pre-orders for the ebook are available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Booktopia, Kobo and more

– pre-orders for hardback and paperback are available on the Parliament House Press website (though I think these are US only at the moment)

– there will be ebook, hardback and paperback available eventually but there are some fun issues in the publishing industry at the moment so physical copies might take a wee bit longer

– I forgot about the merchandise stuff… my bad… I’ll make sure shirts and whatnot are available for those who might like that sort of thing

– I have a marketing meeting at the beginning of August which is extraordinarily grown-up and I’ll have to try my best not to giggle like an idiot all the way through it

– there is a tenative venue for the book launch – Netherworld Arcade and Bar in Brisbane – but I’m not entirely sure when the launch will be. There isn’t really much point in doing a proper shindig unless I have physical books to flog so that is a work in progress. Also, the book is released on a Tuesday and I don’t think anyone will show up to an event in the city on a week night like that. The next available date is the following Sunday… which is 9/11… so that’s a solid no

– there are sequels… they are finished

– a very kind person invited me to speak at a small event in September because, and I quote, “you’re an author” and honestly, it took me a moment to realise they weren’t taking the piss!

– a good mate of mine who is a wonderfully talented photographer is going to take ‘author photos’ of me in August. It is going to be… chaotic. We were just about crying laughing coming up with ideas. Sure, I could take it seriously, or…

– I found out Lord Bezos and his Amazonian Algorithms are making books vanish from lists if they get less than four stars… so please, if you do review my little book, give it 4 or 5 stars on Amazon… and then 1 on Goodreads ;-D

– I’m writing again. Averaging a thousand words a day

– my mam is very proud of me… for now… she won’t be if she ever reads the bloody thing!

Premature ejaculation

Premature

Adjective

Occurring or done before the usual or proper time; too early.

Ejaculation

Noun

Something said quickly and suddenly.

I’ve had a habit of this my whole life (stop giggling and get your mind out of the gutter. We’re using the Queen’s English here). What I mean is, I regularly do or say something just that little bit too soon… whereas if I’d only wait for a bit it generally works itself out.

It usually isn’t anything major. Not like the end of The Mist (spoilers) where old mate kills everyone in the car a split second before the army arrives to rescue them (so grim. Definitely worth a watch though). It’s dumb shit like asking one waiter when my meal will arrive while another waiter is handing food to my wife. Or calling the godawful Telstra hotline if the internet has packed in only for it to start working just as Dave from Brisbane answers… that sort of dumb stuff. The small delay, I think, is worse than a long one. It just makes you look like an impatient bell-end.

Take, for instance, an excited author whose first book is due for release in two months. He hasn’t heard anything for a while (publishers are amazing, busy people, and editors, to paraphrase Stephen King, are doing the Lord’s work) so he makes a silly Facebook post about there being no news.

Then the next day he receives an email with really exciting news!

But he can’t share that with you… not yet. That would be premature.

In Terms of Terms This is it!

MY BOOK COMES OUT THIS TERM!

*to be clear… it isn’t.

As a teacher by day (and a barely functioning man-child by night) much of my life is controlled by bells, schedules and timetables. Even now, during the school holidays, I have a Pavlovian response to sniff out the nearest coffee at 8:15, 10:55 and 3:01, but it’s not just the daily routine that is ground in, it’s my entire life, the way I view the world. My year, for example, is organised by terms and breaks and it occured to me recently that THIS IS MY LAST SCHOOL BREAK BEFORE MY BOOK COMES OUT!

Next term I will be a published author…

I’m fine. I’m fine. No pressure!

… and the next school holiday I’ll probably be crying why isn’t anyone reading my book?!

… and the one after that I’ll be desperately shilling The Book and the Blade as a stocking filler!

… the one after that? Pulp?

But nihilistic self-deprecating bollocks aside, that’s really exciting isn’t it?! Yes, my life is split into carefully colour-coded and well organised little chunks, and yes I do associate big events automatically with where they fit in the school year… for example, in my first ever term as a teacher I married the love of my life… but that structured existence makes it really kind of exciting (and easy to keep track of). So while I’ll be preparing my students as they head towards their final exams (term 3 is notoriously where all the really hard work happens) I’ll also be coming home to a house that will look a little like Alan Partridge’s caravan (now that’s a niche little reference. I’m not sure how many will get that one!)

in fact, it’s the second Alan Partridge reference I’ve thrown in this post.

So, in terms of terms, this is it, my book is out… now*

*disclaimer… my book is not actually out now. Now will in fact be on September 6. But by then you’ll be able to look back at this which will be now.

How’s the writing going?

I get asked this a lot. It’s nice. It’s also a wee bit depressing when the answer is, has been, and will probably continue to be… it isn’t. I have a “work in progress” but instead of my usual all-consuming attacking the keyboard like a starving dog going at a bag of hot chips I’m more tapping out a single word here and there like an old man one-finger tapping his phone while in line at the chemist.

We’re all absolutely cream-crackered. Between covid, the flu, moving house, work, exams, sick kids, midnight hospital visits, frequent runs to the doctor, and general… life… there’s been little in the way of time left for writing. But it’s the school holidays now so maybe I can eek out some time to peer over the top of the old spectacles and tap out a word here and there?

But I do like the latest book… it’s set in Brisbane and follows a young man who finds out he is the last witch in the city… and I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen! Right now, he’s at Bunnings have a sausage in bread while a 400 year old Irish witch buys a drill to hollow out the femur of a dead kangaroo so they can use it as wand/divining rod of some sort. Honestly, I have no clue!

As for the upcoming release of The Book and the Blade (my first novel in case I haven’t mentioned this before ) I have absolutely no idea what is happening there either. Publishing is great fun. It’s long periods of seemingly neverending silence followed by short but massive flurries of activity before falling back into silence. Right now, you could hear a fart at a funeral. But time is ticking. We are just over 2 months away from release!

Squeaky bum time!

Right, I think I’ll go to Bunnings and see if I can drum up some inspiration (or get a sausage, either way, it’ll be fun).

Cheers

Meet me at the horse’s arse – inspiration

“Where do you get your ideas from?”

This is a question that crops up a lot when people find out I write silly little books. And when they actually read those books and realise just how bloody silly they are the question takes on a whole new inflection. No longer simply curious, more… concerned.

“So, where do you get your ideas from?” (you complete nutter)

The answer is simple… theft and blind luck. I make shit up, I exaggerate, I see something I like or hear something that peaks my interest and I nick it, twist it and turn it into my own. Invariably, and to the ever loving frustration of my wife and friends, this means nothing is safe or sacred. Take the title of this blog post for instance… meet me at the horse’s arse. It’s a little weird, a bit out there, and absolutely not mine. My friend, Andy, once told a story about his parents arranging to meet in the city one rainy Saturday. This was back before we had mobile phones to stalk each other and carry on talking and getting directions while looking at one another. This was the good old 90s.

Fancy a trip into the city?

Sure. Where shall we meet?

ANZAC Square… at the statue.

Done.

Brisbane is a beautiful city. Lots of history, lots of open spaces, lots of handy places to meet. In fact, it’s kind of a right of passage to meet outside the Hungry Jacks in Queen Street but Andy’s parents weren’t teenagers when this story happened and neither were they carrying skateboards (kind of a prerequisite for the Hungry Jacks meet) so they arranged to meet in ANZAC Square next to the Boer War Memorial. It was the perfect spot. A giant bronze soldier astride a bloody great big horse on top of a huge stone plinth. Hard to miss.

Or so they thought.

As the story goes, Andy’s dad got there first and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Andy’s mam never showed. The worry set in. Had he been stood up? Was she okay? What was going on? The details from me are a little sketchy here because we were a bit drunk when Andy told me this story so I’m afraid I have no idea what the conclusion was and how these two lovely people finally met. Was it later the same day? Was it somewhere else? Was it at the horse? I don’t know. What I do know is the excellent resolution.

Andy’s mam had not stood her fella up at all.

And neither was she late.

In fact, Andy’s mam was getting just as frustrated as Andy’s dad… who, unbeknownst to her, was standing in the rain a little more than a few metres away! Because you see, the excellent end to this tale is that they both arrived at roughly the same time and yet waited at opposite ends of the horse!

Andy’s family now have this wonderful habit of arranging to meet at ‘the horse’s bum’, which is just so cool, and so lovely, and so easy to steal and throw into my story about the last witch in Brisbane, and of course, I changed ‘bum’ to ‘arse’ because I prefer a little swearyness in my tales.

So, when the question of inspiration comes up, the answer is simple. I steal things, I exaggerate, and I add little twists and turns until it becomes something else entirely. In my current WIP, it will not be a lovely couple missing their meeting at the statue in ANZAC Square. It will be a confused barman with some latent supernatural power waiting for a four-hundred year old Irish witch. Neither of them are going to be happy about it… and it will result in a demon being let loose on the city… and people will die… lots of people… in really weird ways… but it will be fun to read (I hope) and all because they failed to specify heads or tails!

I owe a big thank you to Andy’s mam and dad! We’ve only met once or twice and yet I’ve half-inched one of their family stories to scribble into one of my silly little books. Cheers!

And remember, folks. If you’re going to meet at a bloody great big horse statue… toss a coin, or better yet, just meet at the arse!

Any excuse to use this picture

Smile like you mean it

I’m broke, but I’m happy. I’m poor, but I’m kind. I’m not short, but I’m not particularly healthy either. For a few weeks now I’ve been living on a prayer and trying my hardest to keep the faith as I am not ready to go down in a blaze of glory just yet. I ain’t got a fever, or a permanent disease but it’s gonna take more than my doctor to prescribe a remedy… which is why I’ve been struggling to be a regular working class man. I had two weeks off work (though it was no summer holiday) while I got my head checked (and various other bits and bobs… remember kids, just because it feels good, doesn’t make it right) but so far, I have no answers. Hells bells, I even told the witch doctor, but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. All my life I’ve been healthy but these days it feels a little like I’m on a long road to ruin, but you know what, I’m a paperback writer! As my wife says, I always make something from nothing and I’m happy to report that I’m already on the mend. For a while now, though, I haven’t been able to do anything. I can’t dance, I can’t talk. The only thing about me is the way that I walk. I think it’s been one week since you looked at me. Ain’t that a kick in the head! But I’m nothing if not Mr Brightside. I rested up, asked the doctor to give me the news, and got by with a little help from my friends.

I went back to the old 9 to 5… and I feel fine.

Then it all changed… again.

Imagine!

Somebody told me all these things that I’d done – specifically, the zombie book I wrote – was no good. Because, Mr Writer, you can’t legally reproduce song lyrics! Honestly, it was like a kiss with a fist! That book is FULL of lyrics. So much so, I might as well try to rewrite the stars. It’s not as though it’s a simple book about a girl or anything. It’s a full on zombie-ghost-hybrid novel and each chapter is the title of a song. Each one can stand on its own two feet and be so vain as to think that song is about it, because it is!

(that was a stretch wasn’t it)

I’m gutted.

Disturbed even.

A true heartbreaker. You were gonna go far, kid!

But the show must go on! Rock and roll dreams come through and I thrive under pressure. Now that I feel fine, it looks like I’ve got a lot of editing to do. Don’t stop me now!

There is the argument, of course, that instead of going through changes, what I got could be a real firestarter, but I don’t want to be caught by the fuzz. Because here’s the thing, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you.

So, how do you edit a full novel completely embedded with song lyrics in order to take all those song lyrics out and not fall foul of the copyright gods and yet still maintain the essence of the story while writing a sarcastic, song-lyric-laden blog post in the car in the pouring rain while waiting for your daughter to finish her drama class?

A kind of magic!

I just wish I had a Pina Colada.

Thanks for reading… how many references did you pick up?

[engaging headline to encourage people to read]

I’ve always been fascinated by regression… going back to those things we find comfort in particularly when times are hard. There’s a psychological basis for it I’m sure but I won’t pretend to know what I’m talking about there. For me, it’s as simple as comfort food, comfort tv and comfort books. Last week I got ill and found myself watching Danger Mouse then marathoning the Star Wars movies… because apparently, despite being forty (and falling apart) I have never actually grown up. The difficult thing for me this week, though, has been the fact that I have found it almost impossible to read for any length of time. I just can’t concentrate, I feel nauseous and it brings on a migraine. That has been horrible. As my sister-in-law affectionately (I think) called me when we first met, I’m… a fucking book reader. So being off work for a week (nightmare, I love my job) and not being able to read has been particularly shit.

DISCLAIMER: it is about a week since our little late night scramble to the hospital and I am feeling much better… but this post has taken the better part of an entire day to compose. Never mind the lack of focus, there are just too many awesome new episodes of Danger Mouse and Duck Tales to watch!

Despite being unable to read or concentrate for any great length of time, my brain hasn’t got the memo to switch off. I might be lethargic but – to abuse a quote from Messrs. Pratchett and Gaiman – my mind is…

… gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide

Good Omens

Being unable to “switch off” is both a blessing and a curse. When you’re in an Emergency Room at 330am and some fucker is watching cat videos on their phone without headphones and a televangelist is screaming at you from the tv while you’re trying to keep your brain from oozing out your ears and the rest of your insides on the inside, it is alarming how many variations of Middle-Aged Man Rampages in Waiting Room Because… headlines flit through your mind. This is why Stephen King writes horror, right? Because if he did any of the things in his head he’d be banged up quicker than Amber Heard trying to bring those dogs back to Australia. But the positive side is the ideas. A whole montage of what ifs flitting across the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to rest. To a writer, they’re gold dust. But also… somewhat annoying. Kind of like Homer in The Simpsons episode where he communes with the animals and they just won’t leave him alone.

Scene from Homer the Heretic

So in this situation I retreat (regress… hide…) in the pages of my favourite book. Nation by Sir Terry Pratchett. It has to be the audiobook of course because the words make my eyes swim and my belly attempt a flop without a pool, but thankfully the narration by Stephen Briggs is superb. The strange thing about this book, however, is that it is not a childhood favourite. I had never even heard of it until I was in my 30s, but magic doesn’t give a shit about age and Nation is pure magic.

In fact, this post was supposed to be a book review.

(Note to self – having ideas is good. Writing them down is better.)

I had intended to write a series of reviews about my favourite books and what they mean to me – this was supposed to be the first – but as I’ve already waffled on for a small eternity and only just mentioned the damn thing I think I’ll end it here and try again when I feel better.

And anyway, that last season of Duck Tales isn’t going to watch itself.

So, erm, yeah… Nation by Terry Pratchett. It’s really good. 5 nitrous monkeys out of 5.

Nation by Sir Terry Pratchett. Read by Stephen Briggs.

What the hell am I going to call this post?