“Thought-provoking and a damn good story” – new review of Perfect World

Interested? You can buy the book here.

 

My ‘values’ blog carried by this week’s NHS Employers bulletin

My prolific couple weeks’ blogging has continued today with my blog on personal and professional values – which first featured on the comms2point0 site – now taken up by the NHS Employers bulletin. You can read the blog here.

My ‘gratitude initiative’ blog goes viral…

My ‘gratitude initiative’ blog has gone viral. As well as trending on both Twitter and LinkedIn, it’s also been picked up by the ‘Alive with Ideas: Creativity in your Corner’ site (here). You can read the post here.

Update – my ‘gratitude initiative’ blog picked up by All Things Internal Comms site

The blog post I published on LinkedIn regarding the gratitude initiative we set up at my workplace has now been picked up and published by the fantastic ‘All Things Internal Comms’ site. You can read it here.

Comms2point0 publish my latest blog…

You can read it here.

 

Another new blog: ‘The secret in the lockers’…

Read it here.

New Blog: The Landscape of Lockdown, published by comms2point0

You wait for ages for a post and then two come along at once. My blog, ‘The Landscape of Lockdown’ has been published on the comms2point0 site. You can read it here.

“If you could’ve been guaranteed to have made it as either an author or as a rock star, which would you have chosen?” – New author interview

Morning folks. It’s been a quarter of a year since I stopped by on this blog, but in these weird and worrying times I’ve found I’m putting pen to paper much more than I have in recent months and years. I’ve started out small. I’ve been doing some blogging, for example. But I’ve also been interviewed by my fantastic colleague, Jude Tipper (multi-award winning communicator, blogger and all round good egg). Jude’s apparently read 6.5 of my novels, which is good going. Apparently it’s the most she’s read by any writer. It’s also – probably – the most anyone’s read me, other than my parents. Anyway, thanks to Jude for teeing me up with some fantastic questions. Here goes:

1. How do you start writing a novel? Do you have a complete story in your head before you begin?

That varies from book to book, but usually I like to have two or three very clear ideas and themes in my head before I start actually writing. I’m not a planner (though maybe I would be if I started writing a book now, given time pressures) but I do like some dots to have been joined before I set pen to paper. Actually that’s another point – I write short stories pen to paper but not novels. I write novels directly onto the laptop. I think this may explain why my short stories are more poetic than my novels. My recent blog on the landscape of lockdown was also written pen to paper, and that’s a good example of this poetic w*nkery coming through.

I must say that most of my novels have been directly after beach holidays. All that time and headspace I used to have, lying on a sun-lounger… Even when we do go on holiday now it ain’t that type of holiday: hence my six-year writers’ block?

2. How tempting is it to write people you know/have known into characters? Or are they all a bit of a mishmash of real life people and your imagination? And do you like writing the baddies best (I suspect you do!)?

Ha! Cunning question. Some of my characters most definitely have characteristics (be they verbal or physical tics or signature moves) which mirror real people. But by the same token I don’t make my characters totally reflective of real people. I don’t think there’s ever been a character in any of my work for whom a person could read it and say ‘hey! That’s me.’ Something happens to a person when you translate them onto the page. Literature changes them. I once did try and include someone I worked with – and hated – onto the page, but every time I wrote her she became a sympathetic character. Actually this helped me in my relationship with this person and in the end we wound up… well, not friends, but I certainly threw out my voodoo doll of her.

Also, some people are bigger than my words. My words would reduce them. I don’t think I could capture some of my best friends – the whole of them. They’re too interesting, too weird, too surprising. That’s why I’m friends with them in the first place.

3. How much of “you” is in the characters or the stories? For example, in Bully the hopelessness was palpable and was written in a way that, I think, only someone who had been bullied could capture. Am I right?

I went through a spell in secondary school of being bullied. One morning in the playground before lessons started I was punched so hard it broke my front tooth. For no reason whatsoever. I was just sitting there talking about football. It was a terrible, terrible time. Contrary to the stupid rhyme, it was the words which hurt the most, though.

That time passed, though at the time it seemed as though it would go on forever. Shamefully, I was also the bully at times too. I think that’s how I got over being bullied. I feel incredibly guilty about that. One of the people I bullied plucked up the courage to phone me up to tell me exactly how much it hurt and it took this incredible act of bravery for me to face up to the stupidity of what I was doing. I think I was trying to ‘win back’ the sense of masculinity I’d lost by being made to feel small by making someone else feel smaller still, which is just wrong on so many levels. I could say ‘but I was young’, but it ain’t an excuse. I think that’s why I do the random acts of kindness thing now. I’m still atoning.

4. There’s an underlying anger/pessimism in the tone of much of your writing (though, in the end, there’s usually some hope there too). Was it an intentional place to channel frustrations (once the bubble of youth and uni had popped!) or did it just happen that way? Or am I totally misreading and should accept that the man and his art are entirely separate?!

I think you’ve hit the nail on the head there. I suppose I raged at the dying of the light and really felt like I’d wasted a lot of my time and energy on the wrong things. I’d love to go back to university now – I’d throw myself into it heart and soul. My writing has allowed me to channel my frustrations. I must say, though, that my new career – working in the health sector in a big team, with loads of really talented people in it who I can learn from and bounce ideas off – has enabled me to be a lot more positive a person. I think if I were to write another novel now, I’d probably write it from the sunnier side of the street.

5. Do you actually believe in anything supernatural or is it just a genre you enjoy writing/reading?

No, I definitely don’t. But I love reading about it. I think writing and reading about the darker side of the street is a way of exploring big ideas and themes which are often difficult to tackle head on. It’s kind of getting at these things by stealth. My favourite writers are Stephen King and Paul Tremblay and I’d read anything they wrote, but sometimes I need to take a break between works of the supernatural just to make sure I don’t go too ‘way out west’.

Once when I was a kid I made up I’d seen a ghost. On the landing of my parents house, the house I grew up in, there’s a really odd painting which doesn’t fit in with any of the other artwork. The other artwork is mainly landscapes and seascapes. Places we’ve been on holiday. Or photos of friends and family. But this painting is of some rando person called Mrs. Bradyll. She’s giving out these strong ‘don’t mess with me’ vibes. I wanted to scare my sister so I told her one night in the wee small hours I’d got up to go to the loo and Mrs. Bradyll was creeping down the hall after me. She used to run past the painting after I told her that. And the funny thing was – I did too… For a while I kind of convinced myself she really was a ghost. So I suppose I was making up supernatural stories from a really early age. The effects can be very enjoyable.

6. If any of your books could be turned into a film, which would you choose? And who would you cast in the leading role(s)?

The one I’d really want to be turned into a film would be The Magpie Trap. It’s the first one I wrote and I think is probably the most filmic in quality. I think that book meant more to more people than some of my other books. I still get drunken emails from time to time from Rob Curtis, an old pal from home, asking me why I had to (spoiler alert) kill off Danny.

Also it would give me a chance to go out to Mauritius to scope out locations. (That being said I think Small Man Syndrome would make for the best film.)

As for the leading roles in The Magpie Trap, there’s three. I’d go for an unknown actor named Justin Brewer for one of the lads (he had a part as an extra in a period drama film once, true story). I’d also go for another unknown – Rob Curtis as Danny, seeing as though he likes him so much. We’d need a star too though, to boost ratings, so I’d probably ask my friend Ben Knight, who produced In Bruges, Three Billboards outside Epping, Missouri and the recent Emma, to rope in Brendan Gleeson. He’s completely the wrong age-bracket, but he’s my favourite actor. He’s absolutely brilliant in the Stephen King series Mr. Mercedes.

7. What book do you wish you’d written? Not just cos it was super successful and you’d now be mega rich but from the POV of plot line or literary device – eg the book within the book in Atonement.

Probably either American Psycho or The Stand, as they are my favourite books, and many people’s favourite books. That being said I think the idea behind Philip Pullman’s Northern Lights series – the daemons – is excellent. An idea strong enough to carry a whole series of books. There’s a framed print in my room of the film Kes, and I always look at it and think how the kestrel is Billy Casper’s daemon – it’s the imaginative, adventurous, otherworldly side of him – and I wonder if Philip Pullman had the same poster and he maybe used to stare at it and think… I could write a book about that. Anyway, I’m currently reading his most recent work, The Secret Commonwealth, and very much enjoying being subtly spirited off into a different world. Perhaps the oddest aspect of the book isn’t the animal/ daemon aspect now though; it’s people actually meeting up with each other, touching each other and the like. These strange days we’re living in, I now find it odd to even see crowds on TV…

8. Are you proud of yourself and your books? Any regrets?

I am proud that I’ve done it. It’s one ticked off the bucket list. I’m proud of my prodigious output, too, though maybe I should have spent more time on editing and polishing than I did. But that’s me: I’m always keen to move on to the next thing and the next exciting idea. I’m desperate to start writing properly again, but I’m not putting any pressure on myself. I’m starting out small, with blogs. I wrote on my experiences with Movember, and Dry January, and more recently my ‘Landscape of Lockdown’ post. Maybe I’ll work up a short story next. But, yeah, no pressure right now. I think, again, that my job helps. I’ve just been appointed into a temporary role at work and one of my responsibilities is handling the organisation’s strategic narrative. It’s storytelling, basically, and I love it.

9. If you could’ve been guaranteed to have made it as either an author or as a rock star, which would you have chosen?

Best question of the lot. I’ve ummed and aaahhed about this a lot. But I think I’d have to say author. I was a very lazy rock and roll ‘star’. I didn’t write any of the tunes when we were in the band (Magnetic Fishpond). Barely bothered to learn the words. And even at our low level of fame and fortune (once had an article published about us in the local rag; a few times actually earned real money for gigs; occasionally sold the place out) I had a tendency to live up to the rock and roll star stereotype. I drank far too much. Had an eye for the ladies far too much. If we’d ever have made it big I’d probably have been in and out of rehab most of my life.

Authors also have a bit of a bad rep for drinking too much too. But at least that’s behind closed doors so you can’t cause too much damage or trouble.

10. Do you have a notebook crammed with ideas that you never developed further? Do you still have new ideas? Would you ever write another novel?

I do. It’s in the top drawer of my bedside table. Occasionally I dig it out and wonder if I could work up one of the ideas inside. But then I feel a little tug at my sleeve (no, not a ghost – one of the kids) and I’m back in the real world again. Maybe when they’re older. Maybe when I have more time. Maybe when my career is settled a bit more than it is now (as I say: my current role is temporary). Stephen King would say that all of these are just excuses. I should just write. What am I afraid of? But as I say, I don’t want to put too much pressure on myself. I put too much pressure on myself in every aspect of my life and hence regularly disappoint myself: hence the pessimistic outlook of the books? So I’ll start off small and then one day – who knows? – maybe I’ll surprise myself.

The ‘Andy’ Awards 2019

Merry Christmas, and a happy new year, all. Here goes… It says a lot about my writing year that my previous post on my writerly blog was almost exactly a year ago, and wasn’t about writing at all but reading. I haven’t written anything like as much as I’ve wanted to over the past few years. Life’s got in the way. And I know that ain’t an excuse. Stephen King doesn’t allow it to be an excuse – if you want to be a writer you write because it’s what you do, and you do it every day come rain, shine, hangover, kids or crucial derby match. But I’m going to cut myself some slack here. And if I’m not going to write, I can at least keep my eye in by reading, as often as is humanly possible, as voraciously as possible, and with as much variety as possible.

Hence this list, which allows me to track just how much I’m reading. For those of you who don’t know, the ‘Andy’s’ are my attempt to ‘chart’ my reading habits over a year. They’re supposed to help me read more and also make it easy for me to recommend good books to others. 2017’s chart expanded the qualifying criteria from short stories to novels, and 2018 went even bigger – I included all books I’d read. Fiction, non-fiction, short story collections, sports books. Yeah, the whole shebang. I’ve done the same again in 2019.

In 2017 I read a whopping 75 novels. Wowzers. Last year, my total fell some way short of that but I was still very pleased with my grand total of 61 books. This year, my grand totalizer is again down on the previous year, but still works out at over a book a week across the whole year. I’ve read 57 books.

The below graphic charts my most committed reading months. As you can see this year there’s been a pretty steep drop-off over the past couple of months. Strangely this has come in winter, when the nights draw in… You’d have expected I’d read more at this time of year. All I can say in response to that is that I’ve been reading some pretty epic tomes recently… And make of this what you will: one of the months in which I read by far the most books coincided with Love Island, which my partner watched religiously. There are probably other similar ‘coincidences’ for the other book-heavy months…

Anyway, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my reading year. I’ve read some absolutely fantastic stuff, and some stuff which was maybe less so, so you don’t have to. Here in all its glory is my top twenty for 2019. Drum roll please…

1. World Gone By by Dennis Lehane
2. The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker
3. All that Man is by David Szalay
4. Macbeth by Jo Nesbo
5. The Chestnut Man by Soren Sveistrup
6. Lennox by Craig Russell
7. The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin
8. My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite
9. Lullaby by Leila Slimani
10. In a House of Lies by Ian Rankin
11. The Little Friend by Donna Tartt
12. Mr. Toppit by Charles Elton
13. The Power by Naomi Alderman
14. Child Star by Matt Thorne
15. Normal People by Sally Rooney
16. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng
17. Kill the Angel by Sandrone Dazieri
18. Prisoners of Geography: Ten Maps that tell you Everything you need to know about Global Politics by Tim Marshall
19. Manchester, England: The Story of the Pop-Cult City by Dave Haslam
20. The Institute by Stephen King

Honourable mentions to the other books I read this year: Slick by Daniel Price; The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris; The Keeper of Lost Causes by Jussi Adler-Olsen; The Fix: Soccer and Organised Crime by Declan Hill; The Whisper Man by Alex North; Melmoth by Sarah Perry; Devoured by Anna Mackmin; To Rise Again at a Decent Hour by Joshua Ferris; Ghost Story by Toby Litt; Hot Milk by Deborah Levy; The Sellout by Paul Beatty; Dark Sacred Night by Michael Connelly; Gray Mountain by John Grisham; The Talisman by Stephen King & Peter Straub; Salem Falls by Jodi Picoult; The Last by Hanna Jameson; The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson; The Devil Crept In by Ania Ahlborn; Class of 92: Out of our League by Rob Draper (with Nicky Butt, Phil Neville, Gary Neville, Ryan Giggs, and Paul Scholes); Everything Under by Daisy Johnson; Stone Cold by C.J. Box; What we’re Teaching our Sons by Owen Booth; Scrublands by Chris Hammer; The Hunting Party by Lucy Foley; My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante; Mr Penumbra’s 24-Hour Book Store by Robin Sloan; My Dad Wrote a Porno by Jamie Morton, James Cooper, Alice Levine & Rocky Flintstone; The Gestalt Switch by Alan Devey; Milkman by Anna Burns; The Boy in the Suit Case by Lene Kaaberbol and Agnete Friis; Heap House by Edward Carey; New Fears Ed. Mark Morris; The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks; I See You by Clare Mackintosh; Water Shall Refuse Them by Lucie McKnight Hardy; Cari Mora by Thomas Harris; Cottingley by Alison Littlewood.

Some observations: So, the Paul Tremblay show is over. After boasting two out of my top three in 2017, and winning the damned thing last year, this thoroughly modern horror writer misses out in 2019. Mainly this is on account of he hasn’t published anything. Therefore we have a new winner: one Dennis Lehane, whose World Gone By stood out like a sawn-off (sore) thumb in terms of quality, story, and readability. I’m a sucker for a good crime fiction, just as I am a horror yarn, and this is damned good crime fiction.

The only book which pushed Lehane’s remotely close was Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls, which is a new perspective on the Trojan War. Trust me: you’ll never see Achilles in the same light again. In any other year, Barker would probably have carried off my top honour, but this year, for one reason or another, I craved crime.

This leaning towards crime bears out over the list in general. The top of the list is much more weighted towards crime fiction than last year, with heavyweights such as Jo Nesbo, Ian Rankin and Dennis Lehane charting highly, allied with new (to me) writers such as Scandi-noir’s Soren Sveistrup, Nigeria’s Oyinkan Braithwaite (who turns the traditional crime narrative on its head) and Scotland’s Lehane-a-like Craig Russell also doing very well.

Speaking of crime, notable repeat offenders on the Andy list were the aforementioned Lehane (who last year charted well with Before the War, a previous title in his crime series) and Sandrone Dazieri, who made the list back in 2017 (with a previous title from his own series). Look out for work by both of these writers. Other authors across all genres who’ve appeared in multiple ‘Andy’ lists include Michael Connolly, Jodi Picoult, John Grisham, Alan Devey, and of course Stephen King.

You’ll notice there wasn’t much non-fiction: just three titles made my top twenty-five (Tim Marshall’s excellent Prisoners of Geography, Dave Haslam’s Manchester, England: The Story of the Pop-Cult City, and Declan Hill’s The Fix: Soccer and Organised Crime) but that speaks more to my particular tastes more than anything, and it’s no coincidence that two of that three are about topics close to my heart: Manchester and football…

And amazingly, for a former critic of short story collections (I worked for the Short Review) there’s only one short story collection in the whole list. Again, there’s no rhyme nor reason for this. It’s just the way things have fallen this year. My reading list is very random.

The reason for the randomness of my reading list: It must be said that the diversity of my reading has been much improved by the ‘little library’ at the end of our road. My neighbours read some very weird and very wonderful shit! My neighbours probably say the same about me. The little library down our road always contains hidden treasure and this year it’s really broadened my reading horizons. They’re a fantastic concept. The other reason I mention them – other than their all round brilliance – is this year Carry Franklin (above), the founder of Leeds Little Free Libraries, died. Her obituary was in The Guardian. And in the Yorkshire Evening Post. 

And I’d like to encourage all of you to carry on her legacy if you’re in Leeds or anywhere! Go on, take a chance on a new book… I’m told there are now free little libraries as far afield as Lormes, in Burgundy, France, and in New Mills, Derbyshire (God only knows what the neighbours’ll be reading in those places!)

Find a little library near you in Leeds here.

The ‘Andy’ Awards 2018

It’s that time of year again. Darkness bookends the day so snugly that you start to feel like you barely get to see the sun. It’s cold. Wet. Windy. Shiny decorations are up in the trees and on the streets. The same songs on repeat in all the shops. It can mean only one thing: it’s time to announce the winners and losers in the year’s ‘Andy’ Awards.

For those of you who don’t know, the ‘Andy’s’ are my attempt to ‘chart’ my reading habits over a year. They’re supposed to help me read more and also make it easy for me to recommend good books to others. Last year’s chart expanded the qualifying criteria from short stories to novels, and this year we’re going even bigger – I’m including all books I’ve read. Fiction, non-fiction, short story collections, sports books. Yeah, the whole shebang.

Last year I brought the ‘Andy’s’ back so I could talk myself into reading more. I read a whopping 75 novels. You can view my chart from last year here. (Article also contains links to previous runners and riders.)

This year, my total falls some way short of that (it hasn’t helped that I started a new job in December 2017 and I’ve thrown myself into it life and soul). But I’m still very pleased with my grand total this year of 61 books (which is still great – still better than a book a week, and I’m pleased with that). The below graphic charts my most committed reading months – unsurprisingly the winter months when the darkness draws in are my most reading-iest. But there’s also a big spike around the summer holidays. Again, no surprises…

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my reading year. I’ve read some absolutely fantastic stuff, and some stuff which was maybe less so, so you don’t have to. Here in all its glory is my top twenty for 2018. Drum roll please…

1. The Cabin at the End of the World by Paul Tremblay
2. 4,3,2,1 by Paul Auster
3. The Gallows Pole by Benjamin Myers
4. The Stranger in the Woods by Michael Finkel
5. Dead Man’s Blues by Ray Celestin
6. Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz
7. Phantom by Jo Nesbo
8. The Outsider by Stephen King
9. I am Zlatan Ibrahimovic by David Lagercrantz and Zlatan Ibrahimovic
10. Halcyon by Rio Youers
11. Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown
12. A Drink Before the War by Dennis Lehane
13. Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero
14. Rusty Puppy by Joe R. Lansdale
15. A Game of Ghosts by John Connolly
16. The Late Show by Michael Connelly
17. Europe in Autumn by Dave Hutchinson
18. Lethal White by Robert Galbraith
19. Manhattan Beach by Jennifer Egan
20. Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View – 40 Stories Celebrating 40 Years of Star Wars by Various Authors

Honourable mentions to the other books I read this year: Gazza in Italy by Daniel Storey; The Mountain by Luca d’Andrea; Lifeless by Mark Billingham; Mister Memory by Marcus Sedgwick; The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton; A Natural by Ross Raisin; Wolf by Mo Hayder; Night Games: A Journey to the Dark Side of Sport by Anna Krien; 13 Minutes by Sarah Pinborough; Watching the Dark by Peter Robinson; The Book of Dust Volume One: La Belle Sauvage by Philip Pullman; Devil’s Day by Andrew Michael Hurley; Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult; The Thirst by Jo Nesbo; Strange Weather by Joe Hill; Artemis by Andy Weir; Selfie: How we became so Self-Obsessed and what it’s doing to us by Will Storr; The Sons by Anton Svensson; Die of Shame by Mark Billingham; Rush of Blood by Mark Billingham; The Fifth Woman by Henning Mankell; I am Behind You by John Ajvide Lindqvist; In the Dark by Mark Billingham; Garden of Evil by Graham Masterton; The Partner by John Grisham; The Good Daughter by Karin Slaughter; A Conspiracy of Tall Men by Noah Hawley; History of Wolves by Emily Fridlund; The Sacrifice Box by Martin Stewart; Fall Down Dead by Stephen Booth; Path of Needles by Alison Littlewood; If I Ever Fall by S.D. Robertson; Border Songs by Jim Lynch; Outside the Comfort Zone: Tales from Austerity Britain by Alan Devey; Gwendy’s Button Box by Stephen King; No Hunger in Paradise by Michael Calvin; The Bad Place by Dean Koontz; Wakening the Crow by Stephen Gregory; Cast Iron by Peter May; The White Tower by Cathryn Constable.

Some observations: Paul Tremblay dominates the chart for the second year running. Though Dave Eggers’ The Circle walked off with the ‘Andy’ for my favourite book of the year, Tremblay boasted both the number two and the number three slot in the chart, with A Head Full of Ghosts and Disappearance at Devil’s Rock respectively. This year he’s gone one better, securing the top novel award, and I couldn’t recommend this author more. He’s as compulsive a read as Stephen King at his best, but his is a thoroughly modern take on an often clichéd genre. Tremblay makes horror/ dark fiction new and exciting. Get on it.

Literary heavyweight Paul Auster takes the runner-up slot with his super-heavyweight 4,3,2,1, a book which takes you so far into the mind of its protagonist that at times you think you are him. Though it is hard work at times, the book is worth it. And then some. Auster’s writing is far from austere here and at the end you come out feeling like you’ve truly lived the lives of some of the characters.

Benjamin Myers completes my top three. The Gallows Pole is like an unholy mix of Game of Thrones, Wolf Hall, and Kes. It’s brilliant. What a voice! Myers once competed with me for The Guardian’s Not the Booker Prize. His novel won out over my Paint this town Red. He deserved it. He deserves even more for this offering.

Halcyon by Rio Youers makes the top ten (just). A decade (or so) ago, Rio and I shared a table of contents in a dark fiction anthology, and it’s stunning to see just how far his writing has progressed in that time (I’m not jealous, honest).

‘Darker’ fiction (crime and horror) again dominates the top of my chart, but my expanded criteria for inclusion means that a couple of non-fiction works have made the top twenty. Michael Finkel’s extraordinary book The Stranger in the Woods makes number four in my list.

Metafiction, and stories which are playful with the way stories are put together, also does well this year. Particular highlights are Anthony Horowitz’s Magpie Murders, Edgar Cantero’s Meddling Kids, and The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton are cases in point.

Finally, sports books do well, especially those about sporting outsiders, or mavericks. I am Zlatan Ibrahimovic is a tour de force in the exploration of sporting ego (and is also very funny), and forms an interesting counterpoint to Gazza in Italy by Daniel Storey, whilst Anna Krien’s Night Games is a chilling exposition of the darker side of sport – in this case Aussie Rules Football – (and masculinity).