I have a date

Okay, not a date with a woman. Or a man, for that matter. I’m talking about something much more interesting and unnerving and exciting and momentous – at least to me.

I have a publication date. For Cry Baby, my new novel. The one I talked about in my previous blog post. It’s happening. It’s going to appear. People are about to buy it (you are, aren’t you? Please tell me you are).

In some ways I’m more nervous about this book than I was for its predecessors in the series. On its success or otherwise lies the fate of Callum Doyle, the protagonist I have developed and evolved over four novels. I like him. He’s not me – he’s not anyone I know – but for all his faults and mistakes he’s a lovable guy. I don’t really want to end his all-too-brief fictional life. You readers out there – you have the power to keep him alive. A heavy responsibility, I know, but I have faith in you.

People keep telling me not to worry. Those kind enough to have agreed to review it are saying extraordinarily nice things. It’ll soar, they tell me.

But I am all too aware that the publishing game is hugely unpredictable. I have done all I can, by writing the best book I can, but there are some things over which I have no control. One of those is luck, and only time will tell if fortune is on my side.

So here we go. The wheels are in motion. The final version of the book has been sent to my agent tonight, just waiting to be released into the wild. We shall see whether it is strong enough to fend for itself, or whether it will be devoured by the competition.

And the date we find out? Wednesday, April 16. Less than a week away.

Gulp.

New book, new adventure

I’ve been a little quiet about my writing lately. It’s not that I’ve stopped writing or anything. On the contrary, I’ve been pretty busy over the past year. But it has also been a time of reflection, uncertainty and change. Right now I’m working on the first of a new series of crime thrillers, this time set closer to home. But fans of the Doyle series may also be glad to hear that I haven’t given up on him. Not yet. In fact, I’ve written the fourth in that series too. This one’s a little different, in a number of ways.

I’ve done a lot of thinking recently about Doyle’s fate. The reception the books get is, for the most part, extremely positive, both from readers and the media. Pariah, the first in the series, was Highly Commended in the CWA Debut Daggers, got rave reviews, and audio and translation rights in several languages have been sold.

What I think is missing, though, is exposure. I need to reach more readers. And that’s not for financial reasons – it’s because, like most authors, I want people to enjoy reading the books I have spent many hours of my life writing.

This leads me to my first major decision about the new Doyle book. I’m going it alone. To be more accurate, my fantastic agent (Oli Munson at AM Heath) and I are going it alone. Doyle #4 is to be published under Amazon’s White Glove Program. If you haven’t heard of the WGP, it’s a scheme that is open only to agented authors, and offers the incentive of increased promotion. Everything comes at a price, however, and what we have to offer in return is a period of exclusivity on the e-book rights. That means that, at least in the short term, the only e-reader on which the novel will appear is the Kindle.

The WGP has done wonders for some authors. Mark Edwards published The Magpies under this scheme – a book that has sold in the gazillions. He tweeted recently that the three biggest-selling Kindle authors last year all achieved their success via the WGP. Although I don’t expect to replicate that, I am excited at the prospect of finding more readers than I have ever managed before. And while I’m on the topic, I’d like to record here my heartfelt thanks to Mark for all the advice he gave me.

A huge factor in this decision is the autonomy it gives us with respect to pricing. We can set it at whatever level we please, and we can change it as many times as we like. When my third Doyle novel, Marked, appeared as a mass market paperback, its price was something like £6.39, and it hasn’t dropped much since then, despite my protestations. For a small fish such as myself in a very large pond, this rules me out of the competition, especially when there are so many good books by household-name authors that are being sold for a quid or so.

So what of the novel itself? Here’s the jacket image (created by my talented wife) and cover blurb:

It’s every mother’s nightmare – the abduction of her baby.

That’s how it starts for Erin Vogel when she is attacked and left unconscious in her apartment. When she awakes, it is to find that Georgia, her six-month-old daughter, has been taken.

But Erin is given a chance to get Georgia back. At an unthinkable price.

Like most mothers, she has always said she would do anything for her child. Now the strength of that bond is about to be put to the ultimate test.

And when her actions arouse the interest of a certain Detective Callum Doyle, one thing is inevitable: a confrontation that will be as explosive as it is unforgettable.

From the highly acclaimed author of Pariah, The Helper and Marked comes a nerve-shredding novel that questions the line we draw between good and evil.

I hope you like the sound of it. As I said above, Cry Baby differs from its predecessors in a number of ways, of which the Kindle decision is but one. I think you’ll notice a difference in style in this book too, which I think has matured since I began writing, and the tone is somewhat darker. Despite being a Doyle book, it can easily be read as a standalone, with much of the focus being on characters other than Doyle.

At the moment I’m doing a final proofread, with the intention of sending it out to potential reviewers before its publication (so please let me know if you are interested in a free review copy).

It’s an exciting time, but also a scary one. Wish me luck!

Making connections

One of the things that fascinates me as a writer is the connectedness of people. In any story, we forge connections between made-up people. Some of those connections are overt – a husband and wife, say – and other times they are more subtle. In a crime novel, the connections between victim and killer may be hidden from the reader, but with clues scattered about the pages as to what those links might be. To maintain credibility, authors have to establish connections that aren’t completely ludicrous, but quite often the ones that arise in real life are even more surprising. How often have you become acquainted with a complete stranger, only to discover later that they were born near you, or went to the same school, or know someone that you know? These coincidences happen all the time, but have to be used carefully in our stories, or readers will cry foul.

In many ways we are more connected than we suspect, and that is the reason why we experience shock or even a sense of the supernatural when these connections are made apparent. A factor in this is that statistical laws that apply globally feel strangely targeted when they affect us as individuals. We tend to think of ourselves in isolation, rather than as a single member of a much larger population. An example is when you think of a friend or relative, and then immediately receive a phone call from them. An event like that can seem really spooky, because we reason that the  chances against such a thing happening to us must be astronomical, but that is solely because we think about such things on a personal level. Yes, the chances of such a coincidence happening to a particular individual are probably very small, but we need to think about it in more global terms. There are billions of people on the planet, all thinking about other people. On that scale, the probability that some of those people will receive a phone call from the object of their thoughts is actually pretty high. It’s a bit like the lottery. The chances of me in particular winning the top lottery prize in a given week are vanishingly small; however, the probability that someone somewhere will win it is quite good.

Here’s another example of the kind of connections that exist between people but that we fail to perceive. I’ll phrase it as a question: What is the smallest number of people you would need in order to give a 50-50 chance that two of the group will share the same birthday?

Over a hundred? Maybe even two hundred?

The answer is just 23. And as we increase that number, the probability rises dramatically. In a class of 30 kids, there will be a 70% chance that two of them have the same birthday. Take the group size up to 40, and the odds are nearly 90% in favour of a shared birthday.

See what I mean about connections?

Here’s another example that I never tire of playing around with. You have probably seen the current advertising campaign for a phone company in which Kevin Bacon refers to himself as ‘the centre of the universe’. What you might not know is that this campaign borrows from something that has been around for some time, in which Kevin Bacon is actually viewed as the centre of the acting universe, and every other actor is given a ‘Bacon number’ which shows how closely they have acted with Kevin. If an actor has a Bacon number of one, that means they acted with him directly. An actor who acted with someone else who acted with Kevin has a Bacon number of two, and so on.

What I find astonishing about Bacon numbers is how close any other actor you can think of is connected with Kevin Bacon. Not convinced? Try it yourself by following this link to the Oracle of Bacon. Enter an actor – even a really obscure one – and the oracle will tell you just how closely connected he or she is to Kevin. Be warned, though: it’s addictive once you get started.

Have fun!

By the way, my debut novel PARIAH is still available on Amazon Kindle for just 74p. Get it here while you can!

Launch day for MARKED

It's pub day again. Not necessarily another trip to the pub (although that could be on the cards too), but the publication date for MARKED, the third in the Callum Doyle series. It seems only five minutes since PARIAH hit the shelves.

This one's a little different from the others in being more character-focused. That's not to say it's without action - Doyle finds himself in plenty of trouble as usual - but there's a lot more emphasis on what drives people to do what they do. Doyle in particular is put through the wringer here, and finds himself acting in ways that may seem unpleasant, but which I hope readers will at least understand. I believe that none of us knows what we're capable of until we're put under the most extreme pressure.

There's also more focus on the families of victims in this novel. Some of this touched emotional nerves in me, and I hope that feeling carries over to the reader.

Above all, I hope you enjoy the book. Your comments are more than welcome!

REMINDER: PARIAH is still available for the Kindle at the ridiculously low price of 74p. If you haven't got a copy yet, you can do so here.

It's a Steal!

Okay, so here's the deal. The Kindle edition of my debut novel Pariah has just been reduced in price. Massively. To only 89p!

The offer will be on for a limited time only, so what are you waiting for? Go to the Amazon site here to buy your copy.

I'd hate for you to miss out!

Doyle is back!

For any fans of Callum Doyle out there, I’m really pleased to report that book number three in the series – entitled ‘Marked’ – is done and dusted and will soon be available for purchase. Before I say any more, here’s what it looks like:

Nice, huh? Following my previous novels (it seems I’m now a ‘brand’), it has the usual motifs of the New York skyline and the shattered glass, but I really like the appearance of the young girl gazing out across the East River (Pan Macmillan had a fight on their hands to get that particular model’s image, but that’s another story...)

So why the girl, and why that title? Well, here’s the cover blurb:

“Her tattoo wasn’t just a mark for life; it marked her for death too.

In New York’s East Village a young girl is brutally raped, tortured and murdered. Detective Callum Doyle has seen the victim’s remains. He has visited the distraught family. Now he wants justice.

Doyle is convinced he knows who the killer is. The problem is he can’t prove it. And the more he pushes his prime suspect, the more he learns that the man is capable of pushing back in ways more devious and twisted than Doyle could ever have imagined.

Add to that the appearance of an old adversary who has a mission for Doyle and won’t take no for an answer, and soon Doyle finds himself at risk of losing everything he holds dear.

Including his life.

Marked is the blistering new crime thriller from the author of Pariah and The Helper.”

In this novel, good old Cal Doyle is really pushed to his limit. As it says in the blurb, his adversary is sick and twisted, but also extremely manipulative. It seems impossible that Doyle can win against this man, and his frustration even boils over into his family life, where things are not as harmonious as usual.

The book also sees the return of some characters from Pariah. Remember Paulson, the Internal Affairs cop? And the evil Bartok brothers? I’ll say no more...

There’s one other aspect of the novel I do want to mention here, however. One of the things it focuses on is the effects on the parents of one of the murder victims. Far from being minor players, as such characters often are, they are at the forefront. When I was writing their parts I found myself becoming increasingly in tune with their emotions and distress. I hope that translates onto the page.

When I received the copy edits for Marked, I noticed that the very last chapter contained no comments or annotations whatsoever. When I queried it, I was told that the copy editor got so caught up in the story that she forgot to put them in! I’m hoping that she’s not the only one who finds the story so involving.

The publication date for Marked is January 3, 2013 (alongside the appearance of the mass market paperback of The Helper), but it’s already available for pre-order on Amazon.

Bloodshed at Harrogate: The E-Book War

I haven’t posted here for a while, but I just have to say a few words about my trip to the Theakstons Crime Festival at Harrogate. This was my second time there, and despite suffering from one of the worst colds I’ve had in years, the experience was a blast. I got to see old friends, make new ones, and finally meet in the flesh several people whom I have been dying to turn into something more than virtual acquaintances for ages, including Ryan David Jahn, Will Carver, and Miles, of Milorambles fame.

There were plenty of highlights for me: Colin Dexter, now frail of body but still razor-sharp of mind, collecting the award for his outstanding contribution to crime writing; Harlan Coben delivering a frank and highly inspirational insight into his path to success; seeing the cast and crew of Luther, a session at which we somehow managed to blag VIP seats right at the front. I could go on. But there’s one other panel that has had me thinking a lot over the past few days, and I need to let those thoughts out.

The panel was on e-books, and already it has become infamous. Almost every other crime-writing blogger has discussed it, or at least mentioned it. If you want all the sordid details you can, for example, find pointers to various summaries on Pamreader’s blog, but in short the hubbub is all about certain comments made by the successful e-book author Stephen Leather, which I’ll come back to in a moment.

Most of the debate centred on the problems associated with offering e-books at ridiculously low prices, with the claims that it devalues books and harms authors. As an author myself, perhaps I should be worried, but actually I’m not. I think that most of the arguments being made against low-priced e-books are simplistic and ignore the larger market forces that are at work. During the session, the fact that e-books can be bought for less than the price of a cup of tea was voiced with some anger, and the complainant was warmly applauded. An example doing the rounds at the moment is the novel Perfect People, by Peter James, available through Amazon at only 20p. Stephen Leather commented that he can spend five days writing a short story, then sell it at 72p, making 25p for himself. At this, one of the panel asked him whether he really believed he should be working for only 5p a day. It seems clear that this is publishing gone mad.

Or does it?

Take the Peter James example. Truth be known, Amazon started selling his novel at 20p purely to compete with Sony, who were already selling it at that price. The publisher was still paid at the previously agreed rate, and Peter James got the full royalty. In fact, both benefited from hugely increased sales of the book. It was Amazon that took the hit on profits, but they were willing to do this for good business reasons. So what’s the problem?

Now take the Stephen Leather example. The accusation that he was willing to work for 5p a day was, when you think about it, totally baseless, and Mr Leather has pointed out the fallacy on his own blog. He might make 5p a day on one copy, but of course that is multiplied many times over by the number he expects to sell. In fact, he calculates that his short story will make him something like £3000 per day of creative effort – not bad by anyone’s standards. So again, what’s the problem?

Perhaps the real problem is about the message that is being sent out. I think the fear is that the availability of some books that are as cheap as chips will persuade readers that all books should be at these prices; this will drive down the price of books to unsustainable levels, and the literary world will fall around our ears. I don’t believe this will happen. The availability of T-shirts for two quid at Asda doesn’t stop Debenhams selling T-shirts for twenty quid. The two can co-exist quite nicely. And there are countless examples like this where people are prepared to pay more for what they perceive to be better quality goods. On the other hand, there is nothing to stop people occasionally selling quality goods at rock-bottom prices. In business these are called loss leaders. You do it to entice customers in, and then you do your best to keep them. Books are often sold in this way for a limited time to augment a readership.

Conversely, there is nothing to say that digital books have to be cheap. All those arguments that retail prices don’t reflect the costs of production are entirely specious. So what if a digital book doesn’t have the same overheads as a paperback? Why does that mean it has to be cheaper? Since when did the price of an Armani suit bear any relation to the cost of making it? We’re back to market forces. Supply and demand. Vendors will sell at what consumers are willing to pay, and it has ever been thus.

The digital revolution and self-publishing have brought us cheap and instantly available books. That’s not going to go away, no matter how much anyone complains. We have to accept that. Actually, no – we have to embrace it. There are opportunities there that have never been present before, and some insightful people have already recognised that. Stephen Leather is one of those people. He has a product and he has a strong consumer base, and all he is doing is connecting the two.

I think what really inflamed the audience at Harrogate was the attitude of Mr Leather, and his admission of business practices that might not be to everyone’s taste. There were at least three issues that raised blood pressures. One was his use of his fan base to edit his digital books, coupled with a remark about the absence of contributions from his editor at the company that publishes his paperbacks; another was his setting up of fake social media personae as vehicles to spread the word about his publications; and a third was his defence of piracy as a means of free marketing. All of these provoked audible intakes of breath and consternation. One even drew the claim that he was a ‘tosser’. It was clear who the bad guy was here.

Or was it?

Was all what it seemed? Stephen Leather later revealed that he had been urged to be controversial in the panel – a claim that Mark Billingham, this year’s chair of the festival, freely admitted to. When I told one of my friends about Mr Leather’s use of fake accounts, she asked not why he would do such a thing, but why he would be so stupid as to confess it in such a public forum. Why indeed? Perhaps the answer is that he is not stupid at all, and that he knew exactly what he was doing. Perhaps this panel session had some of the elements of a wrestling match, in which the moves and the outcome are known in advance, but the audience is entertained nonetheless by being whipped into a frenzy.

There is a saying that there is no such thing as bad PR. It’s not always true, especially for large corporations – witness the effect on BP of the oil spill, or the share prices of Toyota after its call to return faulty cars – but it can be true for relatively unknown individuals. Alan Sorensen, a Stanford economics professor, investigated the effects of New York Times book reviews and discovered that even negative reviews could raise the sales of previously unknown authors by about a third. This debate has certainly put the name of Stephen Leather on everyone’s lips. Could that have been his aim all along? He would not be the first to court controversy for the sake of publicity.

Whatever Mr Leather’s objective, the sad thing is that his approach did nothing to help the cause of other self-published authors, many of whom are nice, good-intentioned people. Most of them don’t make huge pots of money, and the successful ones I have met still carry that dream of one day getting a traditional book deal. It would be a shame to turn this into an us and them situation. Those of us who are authors want to reach readers in the most effective ways possible, and in a manner that provides us with a decent living. For some, that means selling cheaply but in large quantities. For others, it means selling more expensive books in smaller quantities. These are two ends of a rapidly changing spectrum in which we can all co-exist.

The publishing world is in a state of flux at the moment, and nobody knows how or when an equilibrium will be reached. Like the weather, it’s a complex, unpredictable system, with too many variables and unknowns. But however the dust settles, I am convinced it will do so in a way which will be agreeable to most. There will be casualties – perhaps more bookshops will close and some agents will have to tighten their belts – but I think that publishing houses will adapt. I am also sure that authors will be protected, because they are the foundation upon which everything else is built. If they suffer, they will stop writing, and everything will collapse. The market will not allow this to happen. (Cue music for ‘I Will Survive’)