Dreaming and writing.

When you ask a writer “Where do you get your ideas from?” you may as well ask “Where do you get your dreams from?”

Writing can perhaps be seen as a type of lucid dreaming that the dreamer bothers to record. In lucid dreaming, the dreamer seems to have some control over the dream content. We writers also like to believe we are in control of the material we produce. There’s more to it than that, of course. As writers, we actively seek out the dreams that fuel our fiction, sometimes even inducing them with our own preferred stimulant or ritual, or combination of multiples of the above.

The American writer and writing professor Louis Gallo shared his own particular method for dream inducement with me in an email: “I crave dreams and have studied them for years, mainly the symbolic and archetypal elements. So I try to induce them. I find this concoction to work: a glass of RED wine, a large greenish banana, a piece of ephedra (this is what gives the really vivid dreams) and about half a mg of Ativan, the latter for getting to sleep.”

In case you’re wondering about the banana, Louis explained that they are loaded with melatonin, which apparently leads to an increase in the frequency and vividness of dreams. This is a method for inducing sleeping dreams, which are then used to inform the writing of fiction. Louis’s amazing stories are rich with dream content. But to write, you have to be actually awake. For that activity I have a recipe of my own: a pot of espresso-strength black coffee, drunk fairly rapidly.

Having said that, I wrote my first (published) novel, Taking Comfort, largely without the aid of a coffee pot. At least I didn’t use coffee to kick start the process. I used to set the alarm for an insanely early hour and leap out of bed, dashing straight to the computer, my body still in pyjamas, my head still in dreams. I did not consciously try to incorporate them into the book I was writing; they would have had no place in it. But I was undoubtedly influenced by their spirit and mood. Somehow, this enabled me to access material that I do not think I would otherwise been able to get close to. It may also account for the book’s -- how can I describe it -- idiosyncratic style. The coffee would come later, to keep me awake to continue writing. As you can imagine I was in a state of heightened anxiety and nervousness throughout the writing of the book. Not to mention exhaustion.

Andrew Martin, a writer I greatly admire, once said that when you are writing you become hypnotised by the book you’re working on. This is true. But no matter how free-form, and free-fall it may seem, writing also has to have some involvement of the conscious mind in its creation. Doesn’t it?

This brings us into a debate that recurs regularly on writers’ forums all over the internet: to outline or not? That is to say, should we seek to pre-impose order on our fictive “dreams” or should we simply allow them to come to us, and follow wherever they lead us?

In many ways, I see this as a false dichotomy. If writing is a form of dreaming, or at least related to it, then what we are doing when we write is unlocking the content that is already within us. The story is already there. We just have to find it. And set it down as best we can. If you don’t write an outline, you will find yourself releasing the raw material, and then working and re-working it until you have imposed the shape it needs for it to work as a story. If you do write an outline, you will seek to pre-form its shape, though you may have to be prepared to modify your outline, depending on what material is provided to you. Either way, the content is there. You just have to find it.

For the record, I would describe myself as an outliner. But even when I am outlining -- which seems as though it ought to be a highly conscious and rationally-driven activity – even in the act of outlining itself I am summoning dreams, willing them to form, and, if they consent to do so, groping my way towards them, and mentally placing myself in their midst. It’s a work, primarily, of the imagination, though with whatever logical faculty I possess perched on imagination’s shoulder.

I cannot describe, analyse, or explain how the imagination works. I know only that the word is linked, etymologically, to the same root that provides us with the word magic. The best exposition of this magic that I have encountered comes from Jorge Luis Borges’ lecture "Nightmares" in ‘Seven Nights’. Borges recounts the following dream, or nightmare, as he terms it:

I remember a certain nightmare I had. It took place, I know, on the Calle Serrano, I think at the corner of Serrano and Soler. It did not look like Serrano and Soler -- the landscape was quite different -- but I knew that I was on the old Calle Serrano in the Palermo district. I met a friend, a friend I do not know; I saw him, and he was much changed. I had never seen his face before, but I knew his face could not be like that. He was much changed, and very sad. His face was marked by troubles, by illness, perhaps by guilt. He had his right hand inside his jacket. I couldn't see the hand, which he kept hidden over his heart. I embraced him and felt that I had to help him. "But, my poor Fulano, what has happened? How changed you are!" "Yes," he answered, "I am much changed." Slowly, he withdrew his hand. I could see that it was the claw of a bird.

I first read this many years ago and it astounded me. It still does. In Borges’ telling we feel the dread that the dreamer feels before the terrible hand is revealed, as well as the horror of the revelation. And yet, as Borges goes on to explain:

The strange thing is that from the beginning the man had his hand hidden. Without knowing it, I had paved the way for that invention: that the man had the claw of a bird and that I would see the terrible change, the terrible misfortune, that he was turning into a bird.

Borges comes to the conclusion that dreams are a form of aesthetic expression, perhaps the most ancient. He comments on their “strangely dramatic” form. So is the dreamer the dramatist? More than that, “We are… the theatre, the spectators, the actors, the story.”

I have a feeling this is a topic I may return to. In the meantime, the dream depository is still open for writing-related dreams.

In yesterday's Express.

If you click on the image you should get an enlarged version which is easier to read:



I spotted a couple of good quotes: "right from the start we are hooked by his storytelling panache"

"the pungently vivid recreation of pre-Soviet Russia is painted with a master's touch".

Light Reading launch.

Last night I went to the launch party of Light Reading by Aliya Whiteley (check out the cool trailer on her website). I really enjoyed Aliya's sharp and quirky first novel, Three Things About Me. Aliya told me that, despite its title, Light Reading is even darker than Three Things. Should be a great read.

It was an unexpected joy to see Mike Barnard there, the man who came up with the idea of Macmillan New Writing (publishers of my first novel, Taking Comfort), and fairy godfather to all the Macmillan New Writers. Also good to catch up with Will and Sophie from MNW, as well as a number of MNW authors and their entourages: Matt Curran with Sarah and David, Len Tyler with Anne and (very briefly) Cate Sweeney. Not an MNW writer, but a writer who has been very supportive of MNW (he wrote an early review of Taking Comfort), Ian Hocking was also in attendance. I've corresponded with Ian by email and I look in on his excellent blog regularly, but never met him in the flesh before. To be honest, I didn't recognise him at first, because he doesn't have a beard on his blog, and he does everywhere else. Anyhow, it was good to finally meet. We talked about things Russian, as we are both researching books set in St Petersburg.

The party was held at Goldsboro Books, London's loveliest and best bookshop, run by London's friendliest booksellers David Headley and Daniel Gedeon.

I spotted copies of A Vengeful Longing waiting for me to sign, and there seemed to be copies of the limited edition hardback of A Gentle Axe still available. Signed, of course.

You ain't seen me.

I'm not here. I'm busy. Working. Writing. Well, nearly. Researching. Found a book of first hand accounts of life in tsarist Russia, all by women, called Russia Through Women's Eyes. One of the writers, Ekaterina Slanskaia, was a doctor, though there was only a brief period in which women were allowed to study medicine in tsarist Russia. They had to have the permission of either their father or husband, so many women entered into 'fictitious marriages' with a man who would be willing to grant permission.

So, I shouldn't be here. I've got things to do. I just wanted to share another review. Ah yes, me and my reviews. This is the official amazon review and it's by Barry Forshaw, the editor of Crime Time magazine and a book reviewer for many papers. Here's his verdict:

Amazon.com
A Vengeful Longing confirms what RN Morris’ previous novel, A Gentle Axe, suggested – that here is major talent in the increasingly overcrowded historical crime field. On the evidence here, Morris is writing novels that rival the very best in the genre in terms of atmosphere, plausible historical detail and exemplary plotting. Two people – a mother and son -- are murdered; a box of chocolates delivered by woman's husband contains an agonising poison. The detectives investigating the killing (in which the doctor husband is, of course, the prime suspect – and seems to telegraph his guilt when interviewed) are the novice Virginsky and the experienced Porfiry Petrovich – the later, of course, the protagonist in Morris’ previous books -- And the policeman in Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, no less. Morris audaciously utilised Petrovich in his previous novel. That gamble (cheeky though it was) has paid off handsomely there – and does so once again in A Vengeful Longing.

19th-century Russia is once again evoked with total authority, and the murder investigation has the compulsiveness of modern crime fiction – with the added frisson of a brilliantly conjured period setting. The continuation of characters created by other authors is nothing new, but few have the chutzpah of RN Morris – or the skill to pull off (not once, but twice – and more, we are told) this daring trick. --Barry Forshaw

Essential and non-essential writing.

There's the stuff I have to write because I am compelled to write it. Because I can't and won't rest until I have written it. And yet, and yet, this -- the most psychically and spiritually essential work imaginable -- is the work I postpone, the work I resist. I know it will cost me a great deal of labour, pain even; it will be hard to get right; I may not be capable of getting it right; it may take me to the limits of my capabilities as a writer and find me wanting. So it grows inside me, like a... well, you know what like. One day, maybe, if I don't lose my wits or die in the meantime, I may be able to get it out. But I can't yet.

Then there's the stuff I have to write because I'm obliged to write it. As in contractually obliged. Don't get me wrong. I want to write it too. And maybe this work will somehow, indirectly, slyly, enable me to get out the stuff I mentioned above. I don't know. Maybe the books I am writing about nineteenth century St Petersburg are autobiographical after all. Maybe we can only ever write about ourselves. In that case, am I Porfiry? Or am I Virginsky? Or am I the murderer? I'm a great believer in genre fiction. I believe it can do anything it is asked to do. I'm a great believer, too, in the entertainment principle in writing. That there's nothing wrong with writing you want to read. As opposed to writing you feel you ought to read.

Then there's the stuff I have to write because I want to write it because I think it's a great opportunity because you just don't get opportunities like this coming along very often, if at all. In that category is a project (or two) that I'm working on in collaboration with the composer Ed Hughes. Ed and I have worked together before on a short piece of musical theatre called The Devil's Drum. Now Ed, perhaps rashly, has asked me to provide the libretto for a full scale opera, which is scheduled for performance in spring 2009. Things have been and remain uncertain in terms of the commissioning of this piece - but we are proceeding on the basis that it will go ahead. I'm also working with Ed on another project, involving music and narrative, which at the moment is in a more speculative phase.

Then there's the stuff I don't have to write at all and which only serves to get in the way of all the above categories of stuff. Stuff like, uh, this blog post. Oops. I really do have something else I should be doing!

Plug plag pliggity plog


Just wanted to share a review that appeared in the Sunday Times at the weekend. From Joan Smith. "Extraordinarily vivid" is perhaps the pull-out quote, though I was very pleased by the whole thing, especially the way she held my Porfiry up to the original and did not seem to find it lacking.

Link plink linkety splink.

What am I doing? What should I be doing?

The dream article is taking shape in my head. However, I am wondering if it will ever progress beyond there.

On Thursday I drove to Cambridge with Frank Tallis, who happens to be a clinical psychologist and an expert in Freud. He's also an exceptionally good crime writer.

We had a lunch appointment with a reading group based at Heffers, the number one bookshop in Cambridge. There was plenty of time to chat in the car.

I mentioned to Frank the almost incapacitating sense I have of feeling I need to do something to promote my books, whilst not being sure what exactly I should be doing. This has perhaps led me to coming up with ideas for articles, pitching them to the Guardian, occasionally posting them at the Rap Sheet, and of course feeding the plog.

Frank had a clinical term for the state I was in, which has been induced and studied in lab rats apparently: learned helplessness*. If you create an environment in which lab rats receive no rewards or deprivations for their actions, in other words where nothing they do makes any difference, they reach a state that is analogous to depression in humans. Frank reckons that this is the state that we writers exist in.

He told me he used to write articles, and got the idea he might be able to turn it into a bit of a sideline, which might help to get his name about, which might lead to a few more sales. But he gave it up as a waste of time. I could see his point. After a while, it seems that you are spending all your time and energy trying to produce the articles, when what you should be doing is writing your books.

Frank was unequivocal. The only thing we writers can do is make our books, or stories, as good as they can be. Work on our writing. That is the only thing that is within our power or control. And that is the only thing we can influence that will surely make a difference.

So I felt chastened.

On Monday, after the kids have gone back to school, I am going to turn over a new leaf. No more pitching ideas for articles. No more cat videos. I'm going to get down to some serious work on the next book. Frank also had some stern words about using the research as an excuse to put off writing.

In the meantime, my spirits were lifted by a review of A Vengeful Longing by Andrew Taylor, author of The American Boy, in The Spectator.

Here's a quote:

The result is a book that satisfies on more than one level — as a story of investigation and also as a historical novel crammed with sharply individualised characters. Morris has clearly done his research, and he also has an unusual ability to enter imaginatively into another time and place. The novel is well written too, and constantly nudges against the genre envelope of crime fiction.

It always amazes me when people I don't know respond positively to my work. Equally, perhaps more gratifying, is when friends like my stuff too, especially when they also happen to be writers whose work I respect and enjoy. So I was deeply chuffed to have my writewords buddy and fellow crime writer, Anne Brooke describe AVL as a "dark masterpiece" in a review she was kind enough to post on both writewords and amazon.

All I ever get from my guardian articles are weird and charmless comments. I should stick to the novel writing.

*My thanks to Ania Vesenny for reminding me of the correct term.

A dream review.

The Dream Depository is still open. So if you have any dreams to add, please do. And thanks to everyone who has left dreams so far.

I've had some fascinating correspondence with the American writer and writing professor, Louis Gallo, who has interesting ideas about dreams and writing. He's recommended a method for inducing dreams, which I will reveal soon. All I can say now is that it involves bananas. He's also sent me a couple of his amazing short stories, in which dreams feaature.

In the meantime, Crime Fiction Reader drew my attention to Norman Price's review of A Vengeful Longing which has appeared on Euro Crime.

This is an excellent, very enjoyable, historical crime mystery which captures both the feel and atmosphere of 19th century Russia as a decaying Kafka-esque empire waiting for a revolution.

For those of you wondering whether you should read Crime and Punishment before either A Gentle Axe or A Vengeful Longing, this is what Norm has to say:

I, like probably many readers of modern crime fiction, have never read Dostoevsky, but I am sure the Roger Morris series will encourage many to try the Russian classic CRIME AND PUNISHMENT as a result of enjoying these reincarnations of Porfiry Petrovich.

The (writers') Dream Depository.

In my dream I had been called into the offices of my publisher, Faber and Faber, to have a meeting with my editor, Walter Donohue. Walter began the meeting by saying, “This isn’t about your book. I have something to tell you. You don’t know it but you have secretly been recruited into the police ...” He showed me my badge and all the paperwork that went with it. He revealed that he had been working for the police himself for a long time. Indeed, his true role was as a recruiting sergeant--his work as a crime-fiction editor at Faber was really a front, a means of discovering writers who had potential to become detectives in the service of the police. It was then that I noticed he was wearing a jacket with the word “Policeman” on it. I was given a similar jacket to wear. I was also given the folder for my first case and told to get on it. It is perhaps significant that my new occupation was presented to me as a fait accompli--I was not given a choice in the matter.

I was now a policeman.

My dreaming self then telephoned my cousin, who is in real life a police inspector in Manchester, to tell him that I had joined the force. He was incredulous. Wounded by his incredulity, I woke.

Please leave your dreams as a comment.

Two quickies.

The first, a write-up about our Hampstead event in Crime Time magazine.

The second, an interview I did with Nik Perring on his blog. Cheers Nik! You're a true gent!

Two more reviews...

The first is by Carola Groom in the Financial Times. "Morris’s St Petersburg comes alive in intense imagery, yet beneath the over-dressing there is a stench of decay," she reckons. She also uses the word "entertaining", which has to be good, right?

The next is by Adam Colclough in Shots Magazine. You have to scroll down the list of titles on the left until you find A VENGEFUL LONGING. What the hell, to save you the effort, I'll quote the whole review. It's short. And sweet.

During a swelteringly hot St Petersburg summer the wife and son of a doctor fall victim to a horrific case of poisoning. Even to Porfiry Petrovich, the investigator created by Dostoevsky and revived by Morris in A Gentle Axe, it seems like an open and shut case, and then further, seemingly unconnected killings take place plunging Porfiry and his new assistant into a deadly maze of cruelty and violence.

Novels that resurrect legendary characters and insert them into new plots can sometimes be disappointing, that, thankfully is not true of A Vengeful Longing. Throughout the book Morris demonstrates a facility for handling characterisation and atmospherics that would shame many ‘literary’ writers and his ability to create and sustain a complex and compelling plot is the equal of any other writer currently at work in the genre.

By far the best feature of this and Morris’s previous novel is the meticulous way he recreates nineteenth century St Petersburg, revealing it as a dusty, dangerous, place where glittering opulence and grinding poverty exist side by side and deadly tensions simmer constantly below the surface of everyday life; long may he and Porfiry Petrovich continue to lead us down its mean streets.

Photos from Hampstead.

My thanks to Clive Bremner for taking the shots:


From left to right: Andrew Martin, Lee Jackson, me, Frank Tallis. Lee jokes about just liking to kill people. At least, we all took it as a joke.



From left to right: Lee Jackson, Andrew Martin, me, Barry Forshaw. Frank, the master of the locked room mystery, manages to disappear from the panel without anyone noticing.



From left to right: Lee Jackson, Andrew Martin, me, Frank Tallis, Barry Forshaw. See, there was an audience.


From left to right: me, Frank Tallis, Barry Forshaw. I'm not confused, I'm just deep in thought. Honest.

I wrote a bit more about the event over at the Rap Sheet.

Out today.

Yes, today is officially the publication day for A Vengeful Longing, though it has been making discreet appearances in bookshops for about a week now.

I marked the occasion by making a nuisance of myself at Prospero's Books in Crouch End. They had some stock for me to sign and actually said they had put in another order as it had sold quite well so far. That's great news, of course, though I have a feeling I know every person who has bought a copy!

Tonight I'll be making an appearance at Waterstones in Hampstead, alongside my fellow historical crime novelists Lee Jackson, Andrew Martin and Frank Tallis. We'll be discussing 'Gaslit Vices' with Barry Forshaw, author of The Rough Guide to Crime Fiction.

So basically I've been spending most of the day preparing for that. Otherwise known as working myself up into a right state. Fortunately, one of the panellists (Frank Tallis) is a clinical psychologist, so hopefully he will be able to calm me down if the nerves get too much.

I haven't got much work done today. Mainly because the cat took up a new position actually lying on my arm as I tried to type. My hand was over the keyboard, the cat jumped up, pointed her bottom at my face, then settled down over the arm that was attached to the hand attempting to type.

Other than that, it's been strangely quiet.

Look what came in the post today!

Makes a nice matching pair (see the little man run!):



The key to bookshelf standout is a good spine.




Something else came in the post today, but I'm not going to take a photo and post it here. It was the payment advice for the first part of my next advance. Better get on with some work now.

Prologue to the Present.

My thanks to crimeficreader for alerting me to this in an email. It seems that someone is going to be presenting a paper about A Gentle Axe to an academic conference at the University of Newcastle in April. The conference is entitled 'The Literary Art of Murder'. The particular session in which my book will be discussed is:

A) Prologue to the Present: The Powers of the Past in the British Mystery Novels of Morris, Stott, Grimes, Blyton, and Rowling (Percy G5)
Chair: TBA
• “‘Einstein’s Fabric of Spacetime: On the Edge of Coincidence in Rebecca Stott’s Ghostwalk” – Dorothy Roberts (Independent Scholar)
• “R, M, Morris’s The Gentle Ax: Dostoyevsky’s Pytor Petrovich a Century Later” – Carmen Burton (Palm Beach Community College)
• “Persistent Popularity: The Evolution of the Children’s Mystery Story from Enid Blyton to Nancy Drew to Harry Potter”– Mary Willingham (Mercer University)
• “Signs of the Times: Martha Grimes’ Detective Novels and the Connections to Historic British Pub Signs” – Sara Ann Murray (Independent Scholar)

Well, apart from the fact that I am R.N. Morris, and the detective's name is Porfiry not Pytor (and there is an 'e' on the end of Axe), I am extremely flattered to be mentioned almost in the same breath as Enid Blyton, who was the staple of my childhood reading. Just flattered to be there at all, really.

Here's the link, if you think the event might be your cup of tea. I'd love to be a fly on the wall!

Dickensian rabble in Hampstead.

The following article appeared in this week's Ham & High. (For those of you who don't know it, the Ham & High is the local paper for, uh, where was it now? - ah yes, Hampstead and Highgate. It has a pretty good books page, presumably because so many authors live in Hampstead and Highgate.)



That's Frank Tallis that is. All I can say, having met Frank, is that it must have been a very tall photographer.

The week's other big news (if you happen to be me) is that my new book, A Vengeful Longing, now seems to be in the shops. It was in my local bookshop, Prospero's, anyhow.

It was actually the first time I have held the finished product in my hands. It looked pretty good. There's embossed lettering again.

Hmmm. Wonder what happened to my author copies? Weird seeing your book for the first time in a bookshop.

It seems to be available to buy on amazon now too. Gone from pre-ordering to add to basket. (Hint hint.)

You see what I have to contend with.

More on Securea Blinda.

My thanks to Ania Vesenny, or rather her Romanian brother-in-law, for translating some of the Romanian publisher's blurb about me:

“Born in 1960, R.N. Morris is the author of two succesfull novels, with a different theme and different in style – the very modern and extremely appreciated Taking Comfort (2006), about a character who ends up involved in a chain of bizzare, kafkaesque, events, and the mistery historical novel “A Gentle Axe”… which re-creates on its own the landscape and the athmosphere of Dostoievsky’s books and even borrows a character from “Crime and Punishment”. R.N. Morris wrote also short stories published in various antologies. He lives in London with his wife and two children. “A ‘thriller’ dark and impactful, whose lieterary parents are Dostoievsly and Gogol.” (The Independent).

I'm really intrigued, and gratified, that they have mentioned Taking Comfort in such detail. And that they have used the adjective 'kafkaesque' to describe it. I have always wanted to be described as Kafkaesque. Or Dostoevskyan. Anyhow, publishers only ever say positive things about their own authors, I know that - but they are nothing to do with Taking Comfort and I didn't even know they knew of its existence. Nobody at Faber will have told them about it, because Taking Comfort was published by Macmillan New Writing.

What's also interesting is to compare that translated quote from the Independent with what the Independent actually said. I think that is taken from the headline to Virginia Rounding's review, which was: "Dostoevsky meets Gogol in a seamy, St Petersburg murder mystery"

The Romanian publisher, like the Polish, have also been very taken with a quote from Stephen Lewis in the York Press ("A worthy sequel to one of the greatest novels ever written: and a cracking thriller in its own right"). The only problem is that they have both ascribed it to a publication called The New York Press, which doesn't actually exist.

Hey, old York came before New York. The original and best, if you ask me.

Securea Blinda

The Romanian edition of A Gentle Axe, which translates as Securea Blinda, seems to be available. It's published by editura polirom. Here's an extract in Romanian, for those of you who speak it!

PS check out the monitor stand in my movie, and you'll see I once tried to learn!

Nameless Nobody caught in the crossfire

If you caught Radio Four’s Broadcasting House last Sunday (Jan 20), you’ll have heard the actress Vera Filatova speaking about further cultural fallout from the current diplomatic problems between Russia and Great Britain. It seems that her Russian directing team were mysteriously denied visas, so that at the last minute she had to revert to a piece she had originally performed in 2006, an adaptation of an obscure Dostoevsky fragment. I happened to be there for the first night at the New End Theatre Hampstead.

Produced by Luminous Arts and Russian Nights, Netochka Nezvanova – Nameless Nobody is a one-woman show astonishingly performed by Filatova. The staging is a simple black set, which at first sight seems sealed on its three sides. I wondered where the performer would make her entrance, which introduced a strange, musing tension even before the play began. But just as there was no obvious entrance point, there was no way out too. Whoever set foot on that stage, however they arrived upon it, would be trapped there. All very Dostoevskyan, I thought.

In fact, the minimalist staging worked to great effect. There were few props – a suitcase and a violin and some sheets of paper - but they were enough to conjure up a vision of nineteenth century St Petersburg. That’s the trick with theatrical minimalism: to give the impression that you wouldn’t stage it any other way, even if you had limitless resources.

Luminous Arts earn their name, firstly through their judicious lighting design, which seemingly expands the dramatic and imaginative space; and secondly through the luminous presence of Filatova. Her Netochka is a creature of light, drawn to it and yet at times terrified of it. And the light she is drawn to is her brilliant, flawed, seductive, appalling stepfather. It says something about Filatova’s performance that Yefimov the violinist is just as powerful a presence on the stage as Netochka Nezvanova.

The adaptation wisely concentrates on one self-contained episode of the unfinished novel. Netochka Nezvanova was to have been Dostoevsky’s first great novel. By 1846, after publishing two novellas (the literary sensation, Poor Folk, and the disappointing flop, The Double), the writer’s ambition was ready for a bigger challenge. The conventional critical view is that his skills weren’t. He abandoned the attempt before completing the first section of the book, with only seven chapters written, a meagre 170-odd Penguin pages. The narrative breaks off tantalisingly.

In fact, Dostoevsky had a valid excuse for putting this one permanently on the back burner. He was arrested for alleged revolutionary activities, subjected to a sadistic mock execution with a last minute reprieve and then exiled to Siberia. He emerged a different man, a different writer. It would have been impossible to go back to a work begun before all that.

So Nameless Nobody was abandoned by her author, as she was by her stepfather.

Perhaps Dostoevsky really was overwhelmed by the enormity of the task he had begun and couldn’t get past this brilliant opening. It is certainly an audacious bit of writing, a first person ‘confession’ told by a young woman looking back on her grotesque childhood. What struck me when I read the book was Dostoevsky’s skill in managing the psychological complexities implied in that narrative point of view, as the adult Netochka recollects and analyzes her childish perceptions of the monstrous behaviour of adults. In this production, this aspect of the original writing is retained and vividly realised. Dostoevsky’s heart-wrenching story of betrayal and exploitation – and love - becomes an emotionally intense theatrical experience.

In the Duke of Hamilton pub after the performance, as we mingled with other Dostoevsky devotees (ranging from Russian oil executives to a sculptor from Devon), Vera Filatova confessed to me that when she first read the book, she did not believe that it could be staged. Director Alexander Markov, who from his photo has the eyes and beard of a true Russian visionary, is to be congratulated for persuading her otherwise. I only wish he’d been there for me to congratulate him in person.

Netochka Nezvanova – Nameless Nobody is on at the New End Theatre, Hampstead until Sunday 3 February.

Nameless Nobody and a new review.

On Friday I went to see a play called 'Netochka Nezvanova - Nameless Nobody' at the New End Theatre in Hampstead. It was an astonishing one-woman show, based on an unfinished Dostoevsky novel, performed by Vera Filatova. Vera was on Broadcasting House this morning talking about how the current Anglo-Russian difficulties have impacted on the production.

I was lucky enough to chat to Vera in the pub afterwards, along with some very friendly, and not at all melancholic, Dostoevsky fans. Well, most of the people there were Dostoevsky fans. A young Russian woman called Marina told me that she didn't actually like Dostoevsky because the books are too grim. I argued that there was quite a lot of humour in Dostoevsky. "Yes but it is very dark humour," she said. And to be honest I couldn't argue with that.

I can thoroughly recommend the play, which runs until February 3. I will be posting a bit more about it - either here or elsewhere - soon.

In the meantime

The book blog Lizzy's Literary Life has put up a review of both A Gentle Axe and A Vengeful Longing.

I'm totally bowled over by it.

Who's who in Crouch End?

Me, it seems. My thanks to Vicky Bottrill for the questions. In another section of today's Ham and High, there's a snippet about our forthcoming Gaslit Vices event. Apparently, according to the reporter, A Gentle Axe was written by some guy called Wilson. Well, apart from getting my name wrong, the piece is factually correct in almost every detail.

There's also been another writer's life video, this time by my Writeword pal, Nik Perring. Nik says you should blame me if his turns out boring. I hardly think that's fair!

I thought I invented a new word the other night. Stoogle. To stalk someone over the internet. But it turns out it already exists. A friend, who shall remain nameless, was soliciting my help in contacting an author, whose name I shall also withhold. I don't know the author, so I'm not really sure how I was expected to bring about a meeting. Anyhow, I asked her if she had tried stoogling him. I felt pretty pleased with myself, I can tell you. A quick check on google revealed that someone had got their before me.

So maybe I can have 'woogling', checking a word on google to see if it exists. Or perhaps 'choogling', which is simply checking something on google, is better. Yes, I quite like that. I'll just go and choogle it.

It seems I started something.

Inspired, she says, by my little video, author Kate Allan has made her own film, which she has rather cheekily entitled 'The Real Writer's Life'. Is she suggesting I'm not a real writer, or that my life is not real? She claims to be more disorganised and messy than me, but I don't see how that could be possible. I mean, she has a ring binder!

Another early review for A Vengeful Longing.

My thanks to crime fiction reader for this one.

And now for something completely different.

A piece I did for The Guardian about the detective as a metaphor for the writer. Coffee is involved.

Day three of the writer's life.

And it's come to this:



My thanks to everyone who left messages of support yesterday.

The first day of the rest of my life?

Well, I’ve done it. I’ve packed in the day job. Today is my first day as a full time writer. Shit. Scary. Especially when you read stuff like this.

So what have I done today? I got down to serious work on my next Porfiry Petrovich novel. I’ve been making character notes, on index cards of course. And trying to tease out and develop the various story strands.

I’ve also tried to do some work on something I call ‘the visual structure’ of the book. I find it quite interesting to approach writing in this way, to think of visual themes for the book, and possibly to imagine the story as a progression, or journey, from one predominant visual motif to another. To put it in its simplest terms, from darkness to light. Or, in the case of the book I’m working on, from mist to clarity.

It’s all very sketchy and just now I’m not sure where it’s going, if indeed it will go anywhere. But I do feel it’s important to give the book some texture and depth. I hope so anyhow.

It’s tempting to write purely rationally, especially when you’re writing crime – or more specifically – detective fiction. That is to say, to pin down the plot in terms of what needs to happen, the essentials. I worry that in my own case this could make my writing too mechanical and formulaic. By approaching the construction of the story visually, as well as rationally, I’m hoping to allow space for the unexpected to occur. I hope to surprise myself, and my readers too.

That’s the theory. I’ll let you know how it works out.

The first review of A Vengeful Longing has appeared, on the book website Vulpes Libris. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer one!

Happy New Year and here we go again!

Goodbye to 2007. Hello to 2008.

First important date for your diary. February 7th. The launch of my new Porfiry Petrovich novel, A Vengeful Longing. By an amazing coincidence, I will be taking part in the above event at Waterstones in Hampstead with three other historical crime writers, Lee Jackson, Andrew Martin and Frank Tallis. The event will be chaired by Barry Forshaw, editor of Crime Time Magazine.

January Magazine's best crime novels of 2007.

The list is in two parts. Part one is here.

Keep scrolling.

No, I mean, really keep scrolling.

A bit more.

Just a leetle bit more.

Whoa. Yep. There it is. The Gentle Axe. Picked out by a gentleman of evident good taste, by the name of Tom Nolan. Thank you, Mr Nolan.

Still time to get it delivered in time for Christmas, though according to Amazon UK there's only one left in stock.

Confessions of a serial offender.

J. Kingston Pierce has very kindly put up another one of my pieces over at The Rap Sheet.

You'll find I reveal the title of the book I am currently writing. Well, thinking about writing.

Vote for my cover!

The Rap Sheet is polling readers for their favourite crime fiction book covers. It seems that A Gentle Axe is one of the nominated titles. Get over there and vote!

Fyodor's take on the Russian elections.

It's what we've all been waiting for. Well, I have, at least. Fyodor Dostoevsky speaks out, briefly, here.

The people's Tsar?

There was never any doubt but Putin's United Russia party swept to victory, despite accusations of dirty tricks. He can't be president any more, so what will he be? It seems the Russian people just can't get over their tsars, and whatever title they give him, a tsar in all but name is what he will be.

I found this quote from the Guardian story beautifully ironic:

The Bush administration has called on Russia to investigate claims the vote was manipulated.

I was watching the Blair Years documentary last night, in which Tony Blair confessed that the more unpopular he became, and the more out of step with public opinion (in other words, us the people), the more confident he was that he was right. Of course it was Tony Blair who famously called Princess Diana 'the people's princess'. I get the feeling he has a grudging admiration for his old mate Putin, and envies the way he can just hang on to power. Would have loved to be 'the people's tsar' himself, I bet.

I got a real understanding of the old 'power corrupts' tag watching him.

An interesting footnote to the Russian election, Lugovoi, the man wanted by the British security services for the murder of Litvinenko, got elected. As a member of the Duma, he will be immune from prosecution, a mere technicality as the Russian authorities were never going to go after him anyway.

New cover revealed.

More info here.

Lucky Lehane.

A friend sent me a link to this article about Dennis Lehane. Mr Lehane has had extraordinary success in having his novels turned into films. When asked why he thinks this is, he gave a very modest answer:

His talent is not, he insists, originality of plot, going so far as to say his plots "could be found on an episode of 'CSI' or 'Law & Order.' " He's merely happy to take credit for doing what he does very well, which is to write meaty, morally ambiguous, thought-provoking crime novels centered in the seamiest parts of Boston.

No, his explanation for his success is simpler: Pure luck. "I am just the luckiest guy on the planet," he says. (If you suspect he used a more colorful word than "guy," you're right.) "Because I'm Irish, I keep looking at the sky, waiting for it to fall."

I confess I haven't read any Dennis Lehane, though I decided I ought to when the Moscow/St Petersburg Times compared me to him in this review. (They said: "The Gentle Axe" is closest to a contemporary crime novel -- more Dennis Lehane than Dostoevsky -- in its evocation of St. Petersburg as a hive of criminal activity, much of it catering to forbidden sexual urges.)

I want to read him even more now that I realise what a modest, self-effacing guy he is.

Verkaufte Seelen.

The German edition of A Gentle Axe seems to have made it on to my German publisher's website. I didn't do German at school, so I have no idea how they have translated the title. Anyone care to help me out?

Interesting to see a totally different cover design. And it appears I'm Roger in Germany, not R.N.. This is all surprising to discover, but in a good way.

Dostoevsky today.

As imagined by the amazing Dostoevsky machine. Amazing.

The secrets of the Russian language.

Revealed here.

Bargain.

Amazon.com are now selling the hardback of The Gentle Axe (US edition, mailed from the US) for the knock down price of $7.99.

Perfectly priced for Christmas, I'd say! And according to the good folk at BookLoons, it would make a perfect Christmas present, as it's made it into their recommended reads of 2007. Here's the original BookLoons review by Tim Davis.

Lugovoi mocks MI6

It's the anniversary of the death of the former KGB agent Alexander Litvinenko. It doesn't seem a year ago that everyone in London suddenly developed an irrational fear of sushi bars. Especially sushi bars with men speaking Russian in them.

I thought I'd check out the view from St Petersburg. The British security services' only suspect remains the multimillionaire Andrei Lugovoi, also a former KGB agent, and currently a candidate in the forthcoming Russian parliamentary elections.

Apparently the charges against him are making him something of a celebrity; I imagine they won't hinder his candidature.

He is not very impressed with the evidence against him, saying "they have no proof of any kind" and dismissing the allegations as "raving and barking from across the channel". As for Britain, according to Lugovoi, “Britain has always been a country that allows all sorts of bastards to seek refuge on its territory.” Wow. There's a politician who knows how to give sound bites.

Meanwhile President Putin, in a political rally that according to the St Petersburg Times "blended elements of a Soviet-era Communist Party congress with the raucous enthusiasm of an American political convention" branded his opponents Western-backed jackals. And a girl group in miniskirts sang "I want someone like Putin".

The big question is will he step down, as he has promised, and as the constitution demands. I guess it's going to be hard when you've got girl bands in miniskirts begging you to stay on. He's only human after all.

I don't remember writing a technothriller

I'm amazed to discover that the paperback of Taking Comfort is the number two bestseller in amazon uk's technothriller chart. Just below a Michael Crichton omnibus and one above a Tom Clancy novel.

This is staggering news for a number of reasons, most of all because I wouldn't myself class Taking Comfort as a technothriller. Unlike this book. Or this one. Or this one.

Of course, by the time you check out the list I will have sunk back down into obscurity. But I enjoyed my brief moment in the technothriller sun. Alternatively, you could help me knock Michael Crichton off the top spot. Now that would be cool.

Oh! Those Russians!

I'm currently back in Russia. In my head, that is. Right now reading up on Tsar Alexander II inThe Romanovs 1818-1959. The Russian Imperial family of the 1860s make an appearance in the WIP. Well, I call it a WIP, but I haven't actually written a word of it yet. Perhaps I should call it a WIM. Short for Work In Mind.

I'm in the research phase, which always seems to involve spending a lot of time, and unavoidably money, in bookshops, panic-buying any book I think might vaguely come in handy.

This amazon list seems a good place to start.

The French succumb to the Axe (finally!)

I learnt today that I have a French publisher for A Gentle Axe. Actually, not just for Gentle Axe. The publisher, Univers Poche, have also acquired the next book in my Porfiry Petrovich series, A Vengeful Longing, which is due out in the UK in February 2008. Oh, and it seems they have also acquired the book after that, the title of which I shall be keeping under wraps for a little while longer yet. A three book deal then! The scary thing is that the third book, Title Under Wraps, is not yet written. I did write a synopsis, which I'm sure I must have lying around somewhere.

Looks like I'm going to be busy.

Writers, get a myspace page

Sometimes people leave comments on one or other of my myspace pages. Very occasionally, they're from readers. This one made my day:

"So here's a semi-interesting story:

I recently was in the hospital getting surgery on the tendon in my left leg. On my way home, I passed by the hospital's used book stand and immediately saw your book right on the front table.

I've had you on my friends list for a while now, and still haven't read your book until I saw it there in the hospital.

I find myself surprised because, I haven't read a book that didn't involve Doctor Who in months. I've actually stopped playing video games just so I can focus on reading your book.

If it weren't for you asking to be a friend on my myspace I probably would never have gotten the book, so thank you. You've made my recovery time much more bearable.

I haven't read Crime and Punishment yet, but that's the next book I'm going to tackle after I finish this one. (70 pages left)"

The St Petersburg perspective.

I've been logging into the St Petersburg Times for a Russian-centric take on the news. One reason is I'm planning another trip to the city. I was hoping it would be a combined research and promotional trip, as I had thought that the Russian edition of A Gentle Axe was due to be released this month. Unfortunately, it seems that there has been some kind of unexpected delay in the schedule, due to my Russian publisher U-Factory being taken over by a bigger publisher.

The big news in Russia is the up-coming election, in which it seems that hunky pin-up and state president Vladimir Putin will surrender power only to hang on to it. I may now time my visit so that I am there for that. It has nothing to do with the book that I am about to begin writing, the third Porfiry Petrovich novel, but it may make for a lively visit. I hope that I'll be able to meet up with my Russian friend Andrey, and maybe some people from U-Factory. It will be interesting to hear their take on the elections.

Another take on anxiety.

A very stimulating response to our navel-gazing about anxiety from Jenn Ashworth on her terrific blog Every Day I Lie A Little. Here's an excerpt:

I wonder if anxiety around writing is the same as anxiety about everything else, and just as un-useful? If it is an over-awareness of an imaginary audience, a kind of stage fright brought on by the assumption that making things up and writing them down is an important thing to do? So what if it isn't good, or no-one reads it? When it becomes important, for me, it gets stuck. When it is playing and I am only pleasing myself, this thing called 'flow' happens and I am more calm and content than I am when I am doing anything else. The inner critic whispers justifiably over things like punctutation and spelling, but because I can fix these things when I can be bothered, she is easily ignored.

Macmillan New Writers.

There's a new blog site for writers who have published with Macmillan New Writing. That includes me, of course. So I went over and posted something about writerly anxiety. But as usual, I find that what I wanted to say has been far better expressed by David Isaak, author of the brilliantly written thriller, Shock And Awe.

If you're a writer, why not pop over and add your own thoughts?

The Greek edition.

By a bizarre coincidence, I just returned from Greece a couple of days ago only to discover that the Greek edition of Gentle Axe seems to be published. Cover above. Hmm. Moody, quite noire. Interesting.

The publisher is Psycholios and here's their website. That's me underneath the Greek Harry Potter.

Letter from Raskolnikov.

When I was researching my piece for the Guardian blog, I received an extraordinary letter from my friend the double axe-murderer Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov. I had hoped that the editor of the Guardian Online books section would publish it in its entirety, but she didn't. So I reproduce it, with permission, below:

When the last page is read, the book closed and placed on the shelf, dust already descending on its cover mercifully shrouding the author's name and the work's title, is it really where the story ends? For those who care enough to wonder (and in my case to experience such question as a vital doubt) the answer will be 'No'.
I went to Siberia. I spent years imprisoned with those who, according to the zar's idea of what is 'right', broke the law. I was left aside by most of them. Scorned. Avoided. Yet i was not alone, ever. Myself, that is the ultimate prison i still haven't found a way out of. But i survived. I grew older. Wiser, maybe. For sure, I read the Holy Scriptures a lot. Out of boredom at first. Then in search of relief. Finally, as rule for self preservation. Words did save me. I don't think their alledged holiness did, but the fact that they provided my soul's chaotic, untamed, darkest instincts with a shape in which I could face them. And there was Sonja. She made all my efforts really make sense. Her presence, her voice, her touch on my feverish forehead were a proof. The proof that I was worth it: I was worth being forgiven. I was worth living again. Anew.
The fact that I can talk to you Roger is just another proof of my enduring presence in the lives of many, so many who were blessed with the gift (or damned with curse, if you prefer) of being uncertain. The doubt. The riddle. The edge. That's were I lived, and were I can always be found. That's were i've always been, even in my Creator's mind, when he, has anybody, found himself torn apart, split by an anaswerable question, in the vertigo of doubt.
I'm here in Myspace due to the devotion of someone not very different from me, a young man, a nervous man, a former student of law (yes, the Law so easily and so persistently breeds its own defiers) who met me before meeting his own pawnbroker to murder. I am proud of this, if of anything at all. My story, my life, my mistakes, my madness and my suffering were not in vain. Somebody not unlike me learned from my life the lesson that I stood to question. He became interested in the works of my Master, he studie Literature and eventually graduated: needless to say, his graduation paper was about me, someone he knew and he (surprisingly enough) admired. And thanks to him here I am, talking to you, Roger. My Creator, Fyodor Mihailovic, is on Myspace too, and I paid my respects to him of course. He has many more acolytes than I have, but in my experience, just one mind is deep and mysterious enough as it is.
I often think of Porfiry. At first i had mixed feelings about him. I found myself cursing his name and thinking that maybe everything could have ended very differently. Sometimes I clearly saw myself, free, back in St Petersburg, having gotten away with the murders of Alyona Ivanovna and Lizaveta, but then, always, I pictured him, Porfiry, and everything blurred back into reality. No, i don't hate him anymore. I remember him with a deep feeling of... well, of underestanding. Now, finally, I understand. And I know he had to do it. Not because it was his job, but because he was just. Not good, but just. I painfully learned the difference. The good forgives anybody, no matter what they do. The just doesn't forgive, he leads you as far as to forgive yourself. And he knows how long and hard the way is, and he doesn't lie about it, and he shows you the way. And if you're smart enough, you go. And i did so, and I thank Porfiry for showing me the way without pushing me, and without judging me. That, I can assume now, was justice.
To answer your question, I'll have to say that yes, sometimes I wish I could escape from my own head, but everytime I feel that way I end up realizing that my mind (though contorted, distorted, dark and twisted and scary) is the only place where I feel authentic, the core of me, whatever 'me' might mean. Exploring it is my final destiny, and for all my life it has been my constant goal, though sometimes it turned into a painful and treacherous necessity. And even now, I still face myself with horror at times, and I cannot express my frustration for going so far just to feel like I'm always at the beginning of another tour of my own private hell. But I imagine that this how it was meant to be. The fall into the bottomless pit of my soul doesn't seem to end, and I take it for what I suppose my Creator Fyodor Mihailovic intended it: a destiny. My own destiny? Unfortunately (of fortunately? I'll never really know...) it's not just my own....

Friends in high places.

A piece I did for Guardian Unlimited's book blog has just gone live. It's all about famous dead authors and their characters on MySpace. So today's blog entry is over here.

Nobody told me...

... but way back in May I was Editor's Choice in the New York Times.

Russian Policmen kiss.

I love this image. Unfortunately, as reported in today's Guardian, the Russian culture minister, Alexander Sokolov, does not. He's banned it. Well, weirdly, he's banned it from being shown in Paris, although it's already appeared in Russia, at Moscow's state-owned Tretyakov gallery, no less.

His reason for not giving the kissing policemen (and 15 other artworks by Russian art collective Blue Noses ) permission to leave the country is: "If this exhibition appears [in Paris] it will bring shame on Russia. In this case, all of us will bear full responsibility."

Ah well, Mr Sokolov, I'm afraid to say that by preventing this image from appearing in one Parisian art gallery you may have provoked its dissemination to millions of computers around the world, via the power of the internet.

I'm hoping to visit Russia next month, to coincide with the Russian publication of my Russia-set novel A Gentle Axe. I can't begin to express how thrilled and honoured, yes honoured, I am that a Russian publisher is willing to embrace my own vision of 19th century St Petersburg, influenced as it is by one of their greatest writers, Fyodor Dostoevsky. It seems to me to be an act of great magnanimity and open-mindedness on their part. It will be interesting to see how the book goes down with Russian readers and critics. I expect there will be some who take against it (Mr Sokolov, for one?) though I've had some good Russian responses to the English edition so far.

Don't forget, while we're on the subject of all things Russian, there's another double bill of Eisenstein at the Curzon Mayfair on Sunday. The highlight is Battleship Potemkin with Ed Hughes' stunning score. Ed will be fielding questions afterwards. I have one for him: "Don't you feel it's presumptuous of you to take one of the masterpieces of world cinema and put your own score on it?" And if he comes back with "A case of the pot calling the kettle black" I won't be offended!

I love it! (But then, I would, wouldn't I?)

My thanks to Edward Pettit at the Bibliothecary
for alerting me to the existence of R. Sikoryak's comic book adaptation of Dostoevsky's masterpiece Crime and Punishment. At last! Someone who has risked the wrath of the purists even more than me! And if you follow this link to a feature in Brian Hughes' Again with the Comics blog, and check out some of the comments, you'll see that a fair amount of spleen has been predictably spent.

Well, I left my own comment, in support of the venture, of course. After all it looks like it could deflect a fair amount of flak from me, as it's far more irreverent than anything I would have dared. Possibly. I mean, I only had the temerity to imagine Porfiry Petrovich investigating other cases. Sikoryak goes so far as to depict Raskolnikov as Batman? He even, I believe, transforms Sonia into Sonny, a cross-dressing Robin-style sidekick. It sounds... brilliant.

What people forget is that Fyodor had a great sense of humour. I think he would have loved it. But I would say that, wouldn't I?

Spot the difference.

I've discovered today that the cover for the UK mass market paperback is now up on Amazon. My name got bigger I notice! Though actually I think it's just that the book got smaller.


Interesting anyhow to compare it to the original large format trade paperback.



And the American paperback.



If anyone can explain these subtle differences to me, I'd be very grateful.

Still no sign yet of a cover for this one.

Russian films at Curzon Cinemas.

Being a bit of a Russo-phile, I was very interested to discover that the Curzon chain of cinemas are screening a festival of Russian films. It so happens that my friend Ed Hughes has composed, and recorded, full scores for two of the films in the season - Strike and Battleship Potemkin both by Eisenstein.

The films, with Ed's fabulous music, are available in a boxed set of dvds from Tartan Video. But, naturally, the chance to see the films on the big screen is not to be missed. Strike will be shown on Sunday October 7 in a programme with another Eisenstein film, October, at the Curzon Mayfair from 12 to 4 pm. Battleship Potemkin will be screened the following Sunday, October 14, double-billed with Alexander Nevsky. Ed will take part in a Q&A after the screening.

I will be there!

What book are you?

Find out by doing the Book Quiz.

Here's what it came up with for me:

You're Mother Night!

by Kurt Vonnegut

Nobody knows what to believe about you, and you know least of all. You
spent most of your time convinced that the ends justify the means, but your means were,
well, downright mean! And the end is nigh. Meanwhile all you want is to travel back in
time, if not to change, then to just delight in the way it used to be. You are who you
pretend to be. Oh yes, you're the great pretender.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

P-day for David-I

Last week I wasn't concentrating very hard so I missed the official publication date of Shock and Awe by David Isaak. But that's okay. As David himself suggests, official publication days are fairly nominal things.

David is a special guy for many reasons, but in publishing terms he's special for being the first US-resident American author published by Macmillan New Writing (nice banner there, by the way, David). The twice published Michael Fuchs may be a yank, but lives here in London. I know because I've seen him wandering the streets.

David is a generous supporter of other authors, as well as being an extremely well-read, charming and civilised chap. He's given a lot of thought to the art and craft of writing, and regularly shares his thoughts on his blog, which I wholeheartedly recommend. I first made his acquaintance online, as so often is the way these days, at a website called Absolutewrite. I was coming under attack for signing with MNW, which was seen by most of the absolutewriters as the devil's own imprint. Single-handedly, David came to my defence. Of course, he had a ms in submission there himself, so that may have had something to do with it. But his open-mindedness, patience and good-humour were obvious.

When David was over in the UK earlier this year, he took time out to venture to the wilds of north London to come to a bookshop event I was doing. We fell into a pub afterwards and had a good old chat. It was great to meet him in person at last.

I wish him the best of luck with Shock and Awe. I'm looking forward to picking up my own copy next week, and getting stuck into it as soon as I have got the proofs for my next 'un out of the way. (Yes, that's what I should be doing instead of being here blogging.)

I heart Lorraine Kelly

Some time ago I learnt that perky GMTV presenter Lorraine Kelly studied Russian at university, and in fact listed Crime and Punishment as one of her favourite books. So I sent her, via her agent, a copy of my book, A Gentle Axe, which features Porfiry Petrovich, the magistrate from Dostoevsky's masterpiece.

I thought nothing of it. But during my extended break from blogging, a letter arrived, with the London Television Centre frank mark on it. Of course, I got wildly excited, imagining insanely, that some producer wanted to buy the TV rights. I'd completely forgotten about sending the book to Ms Kelly.

Instead, and perhaps even better, the envelope contained the following letter:



Just in case you can't read that shot, it says that Lorraine really enjoyed my book and thinks Fyodor would have approved. You'll notice she also signed off with a kiss.

My wife thinks I've gone all starstruck. Well, maybe. But I still think it was a nice thing of her to do. I mean she even wrote the envelope herself.

And I just can't help wondering if Lorraine is mates with Richard and Judy.

Bookslut! Bookslut! Bookslut!

Steady on. It's just a literary website, a rather good one, mind. And there's an interview with me in it.

My thanks to Kelly Spitzer for some brilliant questions. Mind you, if you've ever checked out her regular Writer Profiles, you'll know that Kelly has cornered the market in author interviews.

Bookslut, though. What a great name.

Podcast interview thingy on the Writing Show.

Many thanks to Paula B for inviting me on the show.

Skyped by Debby Reynolds!

A few days ago I received a skype message from someone called Debby Reynolds, requesting my details so we could talk. I couldn't honestly think of anyone I knew called Debby Reynolds, so I ignored it. But the message kept coming back. I told Rachel about it. I believe it's best to be open about these things if, as a man, you find yourself being contacted by strange women. Then if it ever gets to the bunny-boiling stage, you can say, "But you remember, I told you all about it."

Anyhow, as Rachel's been paying a bit more attention to the TV news than me, she pointed out that someone called Debby Reynolds, with that same spelling, is the government's chief veterinary officer - and is the person at the centre of the current foot and mouth storm.

Could it be the same person?

Well, I took my mystery to a writers' group discussion board and someone (thanks caro55) pointed out that there is a top New Zealand expert on foot and mouth, a certain Professor Roger Morris, who is the government's adviser on the disease!

This has absolutely nothing to do with books, except that it occurs to me that Debby Reynolds might think The Gentle Axe is a book about a more humane method of slaughtering?

This is all true, but of course the reason I mention it in my blog is... well, those of you who know my devious promotional methods can probably work it out.

Gentle Reader's guide

Those good folk at Penguin US have now posted a set of reader's notes together with an interview on the Penguin website. You'll find it here.

Novidades!!!!!

The Portuguese (Brazilian) edition of Gentle Axe is now out, published by Planeta. No nifty little animated adverts, but a Brazilian friend has read the first chapter and tells me it's "very good".

In other novidades, it seems that there's now a paperback edition of Taking Comfort available on amazon.co.uk. All they're asking is £6.24. Bargain!