Publication Day (and a little clarification)

So I got published today. Which is nice.

To be honest, today was a little bit like birthdays are when you get past thirty. It's a day much like any other, but you know there's a milestone at the back of your mind, that today isn't really like other days. But you still have cornflakes for breakfast, and you still get annoyed cos your internet isn't fast enough, and so on. My epiphany moment was last Friday when I first saw the books on the shelf at my local Eason's, so in my mind, publication day was really last week.

Anyway, on to a small bit of housekeeping...

During yesterday evening's interview on Radio Ulster, and at my reading at Lisburn Library (which was fun, by the way), I was questioned about who the characters in THE TWELVE were based on.

The truthful answer is this: NOBODY.

THE TWELVE is a work of fiction, and no major characters are based on anyone real (see caveat below). When I said as much yesterday and today, the questioners scoffed somewhat, said that obviously, this character was based on (insert name of prominent public figure here).

No they weren't.

I did base some of the characters on archetypes. There are certain kinds of people that exist in Northern Ireland, and I did use those broad groups as the basis for some characters.

For instance, there's a lawyer who makes his money defending people he knows to be guilty, but publicly describes himself as a "human rights lawyer". There are many lawyers here who do just that. The character is based on them collectively, and not any one individual. Just because a reader makes a comparison between the portrayed archetype and someone they know who fits that archetype, doesn't mean the character is based on them.

Another example is a British politician. On the page, he performs two roles: one, to frame the events of the book in a wider political context, and two, to provide some comic relief from the relentless darkness throughout the rest of the book. He regards his administrative role in Northern Ireland as a poison chalice, the job that no one else wants. He is an archetype, and one every citizen of Northern Ireland will recognise in every Secretary of State we've ever had. But he is not based on any of them (he's not even the Secretary, but rather his assistant), even though people are jumping to conclusions.

Likewise, there's a character who is based on the archetypal rural gangster. There are many such people who make their money in similar ways and live in similar places. The character portrayed is an archetype. Again, just because there's someone you're aware of that fits that mould, it doesn't mean the character is based on them. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of people who could match that archetype. The character in the book is not based on a single one of them.

So there.

I guess the lesson in all this is that readers will bring their own preconceptions to a piece of fiction; they'll see the things that they want to see in it. For instance, I am constantly surprised that some readers are quite adamant that Gerry Fegan's spectres are merely psychological manifestations of his own guilt, while others are positive they are supernatural. Even when the book shows their true nature in the closing pages, some readers will stick to their orginal assumption - in other words, they find what they want to see reflected in this mirror, regardless of what's really there.

About that caveat...

I did base a couple of minor characters on real people. They are blink-and-you'll-miss-them roles modelled on people I actually know, but as it turned out, the people in question didn't think it was the jolly jape I thought it was. In fact, they were pretty offended. There's a lesson there too, kids...

Annus Mirabilis: 2008 in Review

This New Year’s Eve I find myself incapacitated by strained metatarsal tissue in my left foot (my resolution to get fit for 2009 kind of backfired on me), so before I embark on an experiment to record the combined effects of painkillers, beer and cider on the human body, I thought I’d take a look back over the most extraordinary year of my life so far.

2008 started well for me as a writer. My flash fiction piece OPENING TIME appeared in the January 3rd edition of Every Day Fiction. In a case of serendipity, that story was inspired by injuring my right foot in exactly the same way my left foot is right now. I parked outside my local off-licence and waited for them to open so I could buy a bag of ice to apply to said foot. While I sat there, a small huddle of men in shabby clothes gathered to buy their day’s alcohol. Read the story and you’ll see what I’m on about.

A few days ago, I happened upon my horoscope for 2008. It said January 25th, my birthday, would bring good news that would have extraordinary consequences for the rest of the year and beyond. I’m a hardened sceptic when it comes to such matters, but it just so happens that January 25th was the day I received word my story THE LAST DANCE had been selected for the February edition of ThugLit. Naturally, I was delighted, but I had no clue as to the series of events that would follow.

I won’t go into it all again. Anyone who reads this blog, or knows me at all, has already heard the story. All I can say is I have been blessed with the most incredible luck this year as far as my writing goes, and I still struggle to believe it myself. It’s the kind of scenario every writer fantasises about, but no one thinks can actually happen. Not in the real world. I made an offhad quip to a journalist just before Christmas that when I was a kid learning guitar, I daydreamed that David Coverdale would somehow hear me play and be so impressed he’d ask me to join Whitesnake, and that was kind of what happened when my agent came across THE LAST DANCE online. I regretted saying it a few days later when the newspaper led with that angle, and so did a radio interviewer, but it is a fair analogy as much as it made me blush when I read back my own words. I really got that lucky.

One point came up in my recent round of interviews: with one exception, I never told my friends or family I was writing. I was too embarrassed. Given the massive odds against success, even if you have any talent, it seems such a ridiculous thing to spend your time on. Even when circumstances forced me to come out as a writer, I did so with a red face. I still cringe when someone I know asks me about this whole book business. But there’s a lesson for all my writing friends who are still chipping away, hoping for their break: It’s not a stupid thing to do, it’s not a waste of time, it’s not a fool’s errand. Keep plugging. 2009 could be your year.

One of 2008’s highlights for me was the Dun Laoghaire crime writers’ weekend at the start of September. This was the first time I’d ever gone anywhere and introduced myself to others as a writer. The nearest equivalent I’d experienced was more than ten years before when I attended a film festival at which a low budget feature I’d written the score for was having its premiere. That was a bad weekend. I found the attendees to be rude and hostile, even those involved in the same production as me. One director ripped up my business card in my face (it said “Stuart Neville, Composer”), and the whole event was defined by cliques and the worst kind of snide jealousy and rivalry. So, when I went to Dun Laoghaire in September, I was braced for a rough ride.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I found the writers in attendance, even though they included some of the biggest names in the business, all welcomed me with the greatest warmth and openness. I had the pleasure of meeting and spending time with John Connolly, Arlene Hunt, Brian McGilloway, Declan Burke and more, and I was delighted to find every single person I encountered friendly and down to earth. Throughout 2008 I have been constantly impressed by how supportive the writing community is, both within Ireland, and internationally. That goes from those just starting their climb to those who have reached the summit, and all those publishing professionals who give so freely of their time to help steer us on our ascent. While writing and the publishing industry is a tough place to be from a business point of view, on a personal level it is the best creative industry I’ve ever been involved in. The coming years will see massive changes in the publishing world, I think everyone accepts that as inevitable now, but I desperately hope the human aspect remains intact.

Since I started blogging in 2006, I’ve made more friends than I can possibly list here. There are many of you to whom I am deeply indebted, and you know who you are. I hope 2009 will be as good for you as 2008 was for me.

Happy New Year!

Watch Out, America: The Big O by Declan Burke

Today, the 22nd of September, marks the US publication of THE BIG O by Declan Burke by Harcourt. As The Beatles did in 1964, and Led Zeppelin just a few years later, THE BIG O is sure to sweep across America, fuelled by its own tidal surge. Or something.

Some of you will know Declan as the Grand Viz over at the excellent Crime Always Pays blog. I've had the dubious pleasure of going on the beers with the man himself, and can attest to his upright character. Declan was kind enough to sign a copy of the book for me a couple of weeks ago, and it is now atop my teetering To-Be-Read pile. While I cannot provide a review, having not read it just yet (I'm currently immersed in John Connolly's THE UNQUIET, and Bruen and Starr's THE MAX and Adrian McKinty's THE DEAD YARD are ahead in the queue) but some notable dignitaries have. And if their word isn't good enough for you, then I don't know whose is. Namely:

"Declan Burke’s THE BIG O is one of the sharpest, wittiest and most unusual Irish crime novels of recent years … in a similar tradition to, say, Carl Hiaasen, in that there’s a satirical edge to his work that gives it a real bite." – John Connolly, author of THE UNQUIET

"Declan Burke’s crime writing is fast, furious and funny, but this is more than just genre fiction: Burke is a high satirist in the tradition of Waugh and Kingsley Amis . . . but he never forgets that his first duty is to give us a damn good read." —Adrian McKinty, author of THE BLOOMSDAY DEAD

"THE BIG O has everything you want in a crime novel: machinegun dialogue, unforgettable characters, and a wicked plot. Think George V. Higgins in Ireland on speed." – Jason Starr, author of THE FOLLOWER

"This is an extremely funny crime novel that takes Irish crime fiction in a whole new direction. Under the cracking comedy of the book lurks some very subtle and highly skilful plotting and prose." - Brian McGilloway, author of BORDERLANDS

Need I say more? I wish Declan every success with his American debut, and I'm sure it's just the beginning.

Gregory Mcdonald

The author Gregory Mcdonald died this week. Mcdonald wrote one of my favourite ever books, FLETCH, a lesson in economy, characterisation and tight plotting. While the first Fletch movie was enjoyable enough, I never felt it or Chevy Chase did the source material justice.

Fletch is one of the few books which I can distinctly remember buying and reading for the first time. I was in my mid teens, and I bought it from a charity shop in Ballycastle, along the Antrim coast from the seaside village of Cushendun, where I was staying with my best mate and his family. They have a beautiful cottage at the mouth of the river, overlooking the sea. On a clear day you can see the Mull of Kintyre across the water. I started reading the book in the kitchen, and I can remember pausing occasionally to show my friend the funniest passages. Twenty years on, we still sometimes repeat the phrase "Fuck Frank" for no apparent reason.

My copy of Fletch cost 40p (the price sticker is still on the cover), and that was excellent value for money considering I have read it at least once every couple of years in the two decades I have owned it. It stands alongside William Goldman's Marathon Man, Thomas Harris's Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs, Arthur C. Clarke's 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Mario Puzo's The Godfather as being among a handful of books I have read over and over, and will probably continue to read time and time again for as long as I have the ability to do so.

It's disheartening to read in some of the online obituaries that, despite his massive success, Mcdonald still had to fight to get published, and that his experience of having his books turned into movies was often negative. But he knew how to tell a good story in 200 pages, and that's an achievement in itself.

Dun Laoghaire Crime Writers Weekend

I have returned bruised and battered from my first ever writers conference. The Crime Writers Weekend, an offshoot from the main Books 2008 literary festival in Dublin, was hosted in the seaside town of Dun Laoghaire, just a few miles from the city. There were four events in all, including panel discussions, and an interview with Irish crime fiction colossus, John Connolly. I took something worthwhile away from all the events, and I wouldn't hesitate to go again if the weekend became an annual affair.

I had a wonderful time, and I am once again impressed by how welcoming and supportive writers are towards one another. Declan Burke very kindly introduced me various people, and I was met with generosity and friendship all around. The highlights, in no particular order, were:

• John Connolly blushing the deepest red due to reading a sex scene while his mum was in the audience.


• Finding the aforementioned John Connolly to be an exceedingly nice chap.


• Lunch with Brian McGilloway, Peter Rozovsky, and the beautiful and charming Arlene Hunt.


• Going on the blatter with Declan, Peter and Shay Bagnall (pictured below).


• My drinking companions tolerating my enthusiasm for this new-fangled writers' life which I seem to remember expressing with increasing gusto as the evening wore on, and more helpings of loud-mouth soup were consumed.

The only downsides were the same car alarm going off in the multi-storey park outside my hotel window at 6:00am two mornings in a row, and the rather delicate condition I found myself in today.

All in all, the weekend was a success in every way, and I congratulate the organisers. I want to thank all the people who made me feel welcome, and in particular Declan and co for letting me talk crap until the late hours.



l-r: Peter Rozovsky, Shay Bagnall, Declan Burke