Onto edit number two of Blackbrooke III and I'm finding myself easily distracted (hence the blog post). I write books in an unusual way. I scribble the first draft linear and as quickly as possible. I ignore errors (there are lots of squiggly red lines dotted around the document) and even continue writing scenes that I know are going to get the chop in the second edit.
Which brings me, rather nicely, to the second edit. It's a bit like hell.
Hang on, I'm being dramatic. It's not that bad I suppose. It's a lot of work but at least I can seek solace in the fact it will be better than the first draft. It will take me about four drafts to get to a place I'm happy with and ensure the story is as strong as it can be. And to think I had plans to try and get Blackbrooke III out before Christmas...
Speaking of which, my day job at Slaughterbones is starting to gear up for the festive season and that will mark my second xmas with the company. Being a few years older than some of the staff, I often get asked about my background and whether I've been at Slaughterbones since the dawn of time. Any long time readers of the blog will know this isn't the case and that I started my career in the good old world of public relations and marketing.
Long story short: I didn't like working in that sector. It felt as though I'd sold my soul to the devil sometimes with some of the things I was doing and the people I had to work with. I always loved writing and to try and stave off depression I wrote Blackbrooke (despite the fact the book has been described as bleak by some, it actually made me very happy!). It got published by the lovely people at Crooked Cat and I decided to quit my job (which to be fair was the best of the bunch). To get some money behind me to keep writing, I moved back to the Manchester and took a job selling books :-)
Whenever I explain this people proceed to tell me what a brave move I've made, giving up all of that money for minimum wage and 'living the dream'. I smile and nod but I don't feel very brave. In fact, I'd say what I did was quite cowardly. I couldn't handle the stress so I packed up and left. Lots of other people continue to hold down tough jobs and write books but I couldn't.
I'm probably being quite hard on myself. It's all relative. All I know is that despite my money woes, I'm happier now than I've ever been. Nothing brave about it but by far the best decision I've ever made. Now all I need to do is make tons of money from my books...
I'll keep dreaming :-)