Story behind the story (Devil of Euston Square)
(An old post written for a magazine now vanished.)
How I came upon the idea (the short answer)
It’s 1am, 6 June 2002. I’m half-awake, half-adream, in my bed in São Paulo, Brazil.
I see the story of a man, brilliant but poor, a lover jilted in favour of some flash harry, writing his farewell letter as he wreaks his revenge through the new-fangled underground train upon the careless bigwigs who have ruined him and his people.
In the morning, I told my flatmate the story. I bought a notebook and a green fountain pen. I went to Água Branca Park and wrote out the story in longhand. Several months of reading, several of scribbling. Bang: Lawless and the Devil of Euston Square.
What inspired you during the writing of this particular book?
It is a tale of three tunnels. I love the old lurid illustrations in London Under London, by Trench and Hillman. First Brunel’s Thames Tunnel: flooded during construction; a forlorn boat, lives lost; then the opening banquet, not long afterwards. The Metropolitan Line: under construction, collapsing 1862, disastrously crisscrossing the Fleet Sewer; opening day banquet, 9 Jan 1863, so soon after.
What if these timings were less propitious? I thought of Samson pulling down the pillars of the temple, of Guy Fawkes under Parliament, of London’s oppressed masses fighting for attention as their jobs were banned and their slum dwellings swept away in the name of Progress.
These days we are never allowed to ask if terrorism might be justified. Apart from the French Revolution. The Boston Tea Party. Nelson Mandela. What about the Haitian revolution? What about the American Revolution? The English Civil War?
The process of creating the book (the long story)
I wrote a short story, The London Underworld, in 1996. I mentioned an imaginary Victorian novel, The Worms of Euston Square. An agent, who liked my writing, asked for more on this idea. I wrote a chapter. She didn’t bite. Nonetheless, I wrote the book. Seventeen agents nearly liked it. None took me on.
On the fringe of the Edinburgh Fringe, at the wonderful Thirsty Lunch happenings, where I brushed shoulders with Alasdair Gray (bought him a whisky), ex-agent Sam Kelly enjoyed my reading and gave me contacts with agents and publishers.
More near misses. But I was surprised that Edinburgh’s Mercat Press never replied, as they’d republished Inspector McLevy’s tales of his real 1860s detection. Six months later, I chased them. They said, ‘But we did reply: we asked to see the rest of the manuscript.’ Bloody Italian postal system.
In 2006, we launched The Worms of Euston Square at the Edinburgh Festival. It did well enough, and received glowing reviews. Mercat were bought up by Birlinn-Polygon; I never heard much from them about my ideas for a sequel. After five years wrangling with the next manuscript, novelist Emlyn Rees read Worms and recommended me to Phil Patterson of Marjacq Scripts.
Phil re-sold the first novel in a two book deal with Angry Robot’s Exhibit A crime imprint. It was published 2013, retitled Lawless and the Devil of Euston Square (clearly crime and not young adult: more genre, less fantastical).
In the years since I wrote it, genres have grown up wildly around it: VicLit, Tartan Noir, steampunk, techno-thriller. Now I’ve written the next one. Which is sexier.
A ten year journey to that first book. And, funnily enough, my agent vaguely remembers receiving my manuscript chapters back in 2005.
What else?
An unexpected offshoot has been performing. (And that my Latin pupils have just discovered my YouTube channel. Oh dear. And my Twitterfeed appears at the side of my website. Alack. The subject matter of my second Lawless book may be rather inappropriate.)
It’s so easy to find yourself isolated when writing. Two years ago I promised myself I’d meet some writers. Since then, I’ve joined the Authors Cricket Club (thanks to Kay Sexton). The ReAuthoring Project (thanks, Greg, Katherine and Sam) led to me reading and singing aboard LV21 Light Ship in Gillingham, in a Whitstable restaurant, in a field at Lounge on the Farm festival, at the Canterbury Festival (thanks, Sarah), at Guildford World Book Night (thanks, Kay Hadwick), and more.
Through their workshop, I’ve met 26 writers in Portsmouth and Southsea, where I live. We’ve performed in towers, restaurants, libraries, bookshops and festivals. We have a collection out, and another due this summer, Portsmouth Fairy Tales. I launched my book with two cabarets of readings and songs (thanks, Jo and Blackwells; thanks, Waterstones). And I loved recording the audiobook (thanks, Alec).
Which means the authors who make it are the ones who don’t give up. Which means don’t give up.
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