Why I'm choosing to self-censor

When I started writing Looking for Buttons seven years ago (I know, I know), it was just a throwaway line, one that would mean little to anyone not growing up in the UK in the 1970s and 1980s.

When I published the Kindle e-book on Amazon in June, it was still just a throwaway line that would mean little to anyone not growing up in the UK in the 1970s and 1980s.

Then the Jimmy Savile scandal broke and suddenly a fleeting reference to Jim'll Fix It no longer seemed right for a lighthearted book meant to entertain.

I've edited the text and uploaded the amended version to Amazon this evening (would have done it sooner but life was a bit medical for a while).  I think Amazon will let those who have a copy download the updated version; not having a Kindle myself I'm not a hundred per cent sure on this.  Either way, I'll be having another free download day before long, which I'll flag up here, and anyone who wants the new version can get it then.

A little ado about nothing

I wrote a little anxiously a while ago about the dangers of over-editing.  I knew I needed to make alterations to Looking For Buttons but I wasn't at all sure I'd know when to stop.  In the end, after far too much faffing about I read an excellent book by Jane Wenham-Jones that gave me the boot up the rear I needed.  I got stuck in.  I read.  I reread.  I tweaked.  I cut.  I rewrote.  Occasionally I laughed and then felt sheepish at laughing at something I'd forgotten I'd made up.  But I persevered.

Until tonight.  Right, I thought, time to do some writing.  And nothing sprang to mind.  Nothing at all.

Oh, I hear you sigh with no noticeable sympathy, another post about writer's block.  But no!  This was quite a different class of nothing.

I have nothing more I want to do to Looking For Buttons.  My subconscious seems quite happy to leave it alone.  So it's time to print out the manuscript, give it one last check for typos, and then send it to the next agent on my list.

I would like to celebrate, but unfortunately the Difficult Second Novel has woken up and is demanding attention.  Excuse me, I have plotlines to organise...

Getting Le Carré'd away*

For a writer of romantic(ish) fiction, I have a deep and possibly incongrous passion for Cold War spy thrillers.  Before I start rhapsodising about Adam Hall's Quiller series and the delights of early Alistair MacLean, let me explain how this relates to the writing process.

In 1974, John le Carré launched the first part of his Karla trilogy, pitting the British spymaster George Smiley against his enigmatic Soviet opposite number.  The book was, of course, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.  Hence my modus operandi for getting my book up to scratch:

Tinker... until everthing's just right.

Tailor... the work to your audience.

Soldier... on until you get published.

Spy... go and celebrate publication by reading The Scorpion Signal with a nice cup of tea and a packet of Fruit Gums.

While step four is somewhat personal to a thirty-something aspiring writer with a crush on a fictional secret agent and a weakness for PG Tips and Fruit Gums, I think the first three are good tenets to write by (or by which to write, if I'm going to have a crack at not battering the English language around the ankles with my prose).

The problem I'm having at the moment is Tinkering.  Looking For Buttons has been coming together for a few years now and has gone through seven drafts.  I give it a read through before I approach a new agent and sometimes I change things before it goes out.  I need to know when to stop.

But how?


* é appears courtesy of Lexi Revellian, who told me which keys to press (thank you!).