There seems to be a lot of interest in The Book.
I call it The Book, because it doesn’t actually have a title yet.
So far, I have done written interviews for Damien Mulley, and the Evening Herald. I believe Declan Burke is going to mention it this evening on The Last Word on TodayFM. There is also supposed to be an article in next Friday’s Irish Daily Mail, by Sinéad Gleeson. It also got a mention in this months edition of PCLive.
I am very grateful to all the above and I am very flattered.
My problem is that really I don’t know what I’m talking about.
I was originally approached by Mercier Press, last year and was asked if I would like to write a book. I had never written one before and had never considered it. It was a bit daunting.
The original idea was to do a compendium of posts – a sort of "Best of Head Rambles". But by the time I had weeded out the too topical, the insane, the libelous and the blasphemous, I was left with about two pages. I think Mercier expected a bit more than that?
So the idea of the novel was born. And a novel is a different thing altogether from writing a blog. A novel requires characters, plots, a start, middle and an end. It requires a storyline, and all of this has to be worked out in advance.
Now comes the really tricky bit.. People are asking questions about the novel.
They are asking what it is called. I don’t know that yet. I have a few ideas, but I have to discuss them with the publisher first.
They are asking what type of novel it is. That is a tricky one. I would like to think it is humorous. It isn’t a thriller because there are only a few explosions in it. It isn’t a murder mystery, though there are a few deaths, and a murder trial. It isn’t a romance, though there is a bit of romance in it. I don’t really know how to describe it. But then how would you describe this blog?
They are asking when the book will be published. I don’t know. It depends on when I get the first draft done. It is 90% there, but that last 10% could be the rock that I perish on.
What is the book about? It’s about me. Grandad. Herself and Sandy are in it too. If I said it was about life in the village, that would sound boring. I hope it’s not boring. A lot of strange things go on in this weird world I inhabit, as any regular reader of this will know.
On a positive note, Herself asked me to read her the first couple of chapters. When I stopped reading, she pleaded with me to continue. She hounded me night after night to read her more. So either she is a crap judge of literature [but she hates Cecelia Ahern?] or she’s a masochist. She certainly isn’t listening just for my dulcet voice, or to flatter me. Herself doesn’t believe in flattery.
Suggestions for a book title on a postcard please.