Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: KEEPER OF THE CHILDREN by William H. Hallahan

So for the third in this series of blog posts, we're sticking with the seventies again (as we will do for many of the posts to come) for another tight little thriller that manages to come in at just under 200 pages. Except, as you might guess from the cover, this one's not your usual crime thriller. If we're going to go the label route I'd have to say 'Keeper of the Children' is more your 'Horror/Suspense' hybrid, which is partly the reason I like it so much.

It starts out simply enough. Eddie Benson, a successful TV ad producer, returns home to Philadelphia after a long shoot to find his wife and son at the airport, but no daughter. He soon learns that fourteen-year-old Renni has run away with her best friend to join a cult of beggars under the control of a Tibetan Buddhist monk named Kheim. Quite why Eddie's wife waits until he gets back to give him this information is never adequately explained, but anyway, Eddie soon sees Renni out on the streets with her two dozen similarly-aged cohorts, all of whom wear orange robes and beg for money all day before heading off to the 'temple' where they all bed down, ready to do the exact same thing the next day.

As it turns out, the police are powerless to act since Kheim isn't actually doing anything illegal. The kids under his roof aren't being abused, they're fed well, clothed in clean robes, and the 'temple' itself is kept spotlessly clean on a daily basis. And when Eddie talks to a group of angry parents in the same position, he discovers that simply 'kidnapping' your kid doesn't work either, as he or she is apparently brainwashed into running back to the temple at the earliest opportunity. He also learns the leaders of this group are planning to deliver documents to Washington proving that Kheim is in the country illegally so they can have him deported. Unfortunately for Eddie, before the evidence can actually be delivered, the group's ringleaders soon begin dying in very odd ways.

And when I say odd, I do mean odd. For instance, one gets beaten to death by a scarecrow, another gets torn apart by a group of street cats (see cover), while a third has a fatal run-in with a clothing dummy and a golf club. Naturally, it soon becomes all fairly clear to Eddie - and the reader - that Kheim's able to astral-project something fierce (this is the seventies, after all) with the ability to place his consciousness inside a variety of inanimate objects and small animals at will. And Eddie, as the last man standing, is his next intended victim.

But our Eddie's a resourceful fellow and he quickly figures out that if he's going to get out of this in one piece and get his daughter back he's going to have to fight fire with fire. To that end, he visits a yogi named Nullatumbi, who helps him train his mind in order to do battle with Kleim on the astral plane...

I'm not sure how old I was when I first read this book, possibly fourteen or fifteen. I was reading a lot of horror back in those days, but then so were a lot of people. Stephen King and James Herbert had a lot to with that, I'm sure. But I think it was probably the blurb on the back cover that did it for me:

'Alone in a child's bedroom... Eddie Benson listens for footsteps on the stairs. The footfall Eddie is waiting for will not be human. It could be someone's pet cat, or a stuffed teddy bear, or even a smiling marionette doll. But whatever it is, it will have two horrifying qualities: it will be propelled by a diabolical force and it will have only one intention - murder.'

Now honestly, how could I not buy this book? Especially as I'm fairly sure I once had a nightmare exactly like that, where some unnamed axe-wielding creature was climbing up the stairs to chop me up into small pieces. Or maybe I dreamt it after reading the book, I don't know. All I can say is the book delivered on its promise of offbeat thrills and spills, and that was perfectly fine with me. Especially at that age. I should add that I've reread it a number of times since and while I notice the novel's faults more now, I still enjoy it as much now as I did back then.

Because there is a lot to like about this book. It helps that Hallaran's a fine writer who's able to give his characters interesting and natural-sounding dialogue. He doesn't allow his prose to get in the way of the story either, and his matter-of-fact recounting of the more fanciful aspects of the plot help make the absurd seem all too plausible. He also does a nice job of foreshadowing right from the start. For instance, we get a sense of otherwordly dread within the very first pages when we sample Renni's slightly ominous marionette dolls (one of whom will play a central role later), and we also briefly meet one of the many stray cats we'll see throughout the book.

It also helps that the hero of the piece, Eddie Benson, is an appealing lead. Although it's only a short book, Hallahan does a pretty decent job of filling in the man's character so the reader can fully identify with his predicament - which is essential when you're dealing with a plot as bizarre as this one is. I only wish Hallahan had given the villain of the piece the same level of attention, because as it stands Kheim is a one-note character straight out of central casting. Not only that, but we never get his POV at any point, so we don't actually know what motivates him to do what he does. He's simply EVIL and that's that. Nevertheless, his malevolent presence does permeate the whole novel from beginning to end, so who knows? Maybe Hallahan knew what he was doing by leaving him a blank slate.

Hallahan also paces the book well, so that we're approximately at the halfway mark when Eddie decides it's time to get proactive and take the battle to Kheim. This is the most enjoyable part of the book for me, as with the help of an elderly Indian yogi, Nullatumbi (another one straight out of central casting - the wise and good mystic), Eddie spends fifty pages learning how to master his mind in preparation for the battle to come. On the one hand, the whole idea's totally ridiculous. Of course it is. Even if astral projection were possible it would take - as Nullatumbi actually makes clear at one point - a dozen lifetimes of study to master, yet Eddie manages to get the hang of it in about two weeks - which is pretty good going for a newbie. And a Westerner, no less. Yet you find yourself simply going along with the whole concept since it's being told with such verve and enthusiasm.

Another point in the book's favour is Hallahan knows how to write action. And not the straightforward stuff either. Without giving away too much of the plot, there's a fantastic scene midway into the book where a stuffed bear does battle with a small stuffed mouse and basically lays waste to a house in the process. They even used the scene for the cover of the US paperback edition (check out my Facebook page for a sample - you can access it from the home page of my website). Later on, there's an even better sequence where a female street cat has a no-holds-barred scrap with an alpha male tomcat - all told from the cats' points of view. It's really great stuff. At the time these were scenes that felt totally new to me and to be quite honest, they still feel that way today. One thing's for sure - Hallahan could never be accused of going the predictable route.

So what's the downside? Well, the book could possibly have been improved by being longer, perhaps allowing the supporting cast to be fleshed out a little more. Although I have to admit the rapid pace of the story would have clearly suffered as a result. Swings and roundabouts. And I've read the book a number of times and I still can't figure out what Kheim's getting out of this. Okay, so two dozen begging kids probably rake in a fair amount of change on a daily basis, but that's all it is. Small change. Kheim's clearly a bright individual, so couldn't he have aimed a little higher than living off the proceeds of panhandling? And while I'm at it, some of the parents don't seem to be nearly as worried about their offspring's welfare as I'd imagine a parent would be today, which is a little puzzling. Or maybe that's simply the seventies for you.

But these are all minor quibbles, really. No book's perfect (except maybe 'The Maltese Falcon'), and we can all pick holes. But let's face it, this is not a book you should be taking too seriously anyway. It's just a fun occult thriller that'll keep you glued to the pages, and really, what more can you ask than that?

Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: NOTHING LASTS FOREVER by Roderick Thorp

Okay, so we're back for post #2 in what I hope will be a long-running series where I take a look at favourite thriller novels that have slipped under the radar for one reason or another. And I have to say this is kind of an odd one.

Odd how? Well, while I'm pretty sure most people will already be very familiar with the actual storyline of the novel, I'm not so sure people will be familiar with the book itself. And that's mainly down to two factors. First, I don't think it sold in great quantities on its initial publication and as a result it went out of print fairly rapidly. And two, the movie that ultimately got made of it has now became so ingrained in people's minds that the original source material has been all but forgotten. Which is a real shame, but also kind of understandable when you know the name of the movie:

DIE HARD.

That's right. 'Die Hard.' Only one of the most successful and influential action thrillers to come out of Hollywood in the last thirty years.

I still remember when it came out in the late eighties. I think I must have gone to see it at least three times. Possibly more. (This was back in the good old days when movies stayed in cinemas longer than a week.) And naturally, there was a tie-in paperback version of the original novel which I duly snapped up after spotting it in my local WH Smith. I mean, I was pretty certain it wouldn't live up to the adrenalin rush of the film, but I thought it was at least worth the gamble.

How right I was.

But before going any further, I think now might be a good time to give a basic outline of the story, just in case you're one of the seven or eight people on the planet who've never seen 'Die Hard'. It's really very simple and goes something like this:

It's Christmas Eve. Joe Leland, a fifty-something, widowed, ex-New York cop, arrives in LA to spend Christmas with his daughter, Stephanie Gennaro, a high-powered executive at Klaxon Oil, and her two children. He shows up at her place of work, a forty-story building in downtown LA, during the Christmas party. Unfortunately, twelve German terrorists also show up, quickly taking over the whole building and grabbing the 75 attendees as hostages. But they miss the 76th, Leland himself, who armed with only his service piece and knowing full well the kind of people he's dealing with, decides the only way to get his daughter and the others out safe is to do it himself. Thus begins a lethal game of cat and mouse as Leland runs around the skyscraper attempting to pick off the terrorists one by one before they can get to him.

I'm not sure how long it took me to read the book. Three hours, maybe four. At 232 pages it's only a short novel, and believe me, those pages really flew by that day. But once I'd finished, I came away with two major impressions: (1) the book was just as thrilling as the film, if not more so, and (2) that Roderick Thorp sure could write.

But what I also really like about the novel is that it's a lot more hard-boiled and a damn sight darker than the movie version, with far more serious themes running through it. Like loss, regret and redemption. The kinds of themes you don't expect to see in a blockbuster thriller (or at least, I didn't when I first read it). And Leland's not a superhero like the character Bruce Willis plays, but a real human being in his mid to late fifties who's scared shitless throughout much of the story, but who somehow just keeps on going anyway.

I also love the way Thorp chooses to tell his story. Although he writes it as a third person narrative it actually feels like it's being told in the first, and that's because Thorp never leaves Leland's head. Not once. The reader only ever sees what Leland sees, feels what Leland feels, experiences what Leland experiences, which really ups the tension tremendously.

Another surprising thing is that almost all of the major setpieces of the movie are already right there in the book. For instance, that part where Bruce Willis drops the chair full of C4 down the elevator shaft and blows up half the building? Present. Willis jumping off the roof with the aid of a fire hose while SWAT helicopters blow up all around him? Leland does it first in the book. And while Leland doesn't crack wise quite as often as Willis does in the film, he still gets a few good zingers in there every now and then.

For instance, my favourite's probably the moment when right after killing one terrorist, Leland then tells him, 'When you see what's coming, Skeezix, you're going to be glad you're dead,' before throwing him off the roof with a triumphant, 'Geronimo, motherfucker!' (Oddly enough, the film-makers left out the first part, but kept the second).

Or there's the occasionally witty repartee between Leland and Al Powell, his younger police counterpoint down on the ground:

     'Now how do you make the situation?'
     'The roof is easier to defend than to take. They're very heavily armed and - '
     'How about you?'
     Leland thought of the Browning and that Little Tony might be listening. 'I'm in business,' he said.
     'How do we recognize you?'
     Leland smiled. 'I'm black. I wasn't when I started, but I am now.'

And did you know that 'Nothing Lasts Forever' is actually a sequel to an earlier novel of Thorp's called 'The Detective'? That one was a hit in the late sixties and Hollywood also made a film of it, just like they did with this one. And guess who played the role of Leland. Give up? Frank Sinatra. That's right, Frank Sinatra. (So if you ever get a Trivial Pursuit question that asks you what connects Frank Sinatra and Bruce Willis, now you know.)

Although accounts vary, it seems Thorp started writing the novel after seeing 'The Towering Inferno' (or after reading 'The Glass Inferno') and when he went to sleep that night he began dreaming about a man being chased through a skyscraper by men with guns. 'Not a bad idea for a novel,' he thought (probably) and got to work. As you might expect, upon publication the movie rights were snapped up pretty quickly and a screenplay produced. First choice for Leland? Sinatra, of course. Despite the fact that he was in his mid-sixties and hadn't acted in a decade. Naturally, he turned it down. Next choice? Robert Mitchum. Who also turned it down with the quite reasonable comment that he sure wasn't going to start running around and jumping off buildings at his advanced age. But Robert Mitchum as Joe Leland. It's an enticing thought, isn't it?

To be honest, I could go on raving about this book for another fifteen paragraphs, but I think I've got my point across already. But just in case I haven't, I hereby declare 'Nothing Lasts Forever' AKA 'Die Hard' by Roderick Thorp to be a stone-cold classic which should be read by all serious thriller fans, post-haste.

And what's more, you don't even have to pay over the odds for it anymore. I recently found out it's been republished in paperback and it's also available on Kindle.

So what are you waiting for?

Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: THE SEVEN DAY SOLDIERS by Tony Kenrick

So for the first in this series of who knows how many posts, we travel back to 1976 for a look at this great little action thriller from Tony Kenrick. And when I say little, I mean it. Like so many paperbacks from that particular decade, this example comes in at a lean and mean 215 pages. No padding in those days. No unnecessary sub-plots. Just wham-bam and thank you very much, I'm outta here.

And I love the cover too. Or at least the one on my particular edition, with its close-up of a couple of rolls of cash interspersed with various rounds of ammo...

Anyway, I do feel a certain kinship with Mr Kenrick, in that we both started out in the advertising world before turning to writing thrillers. Not only that, but we also both ended up as expatriates. In Kenrick's case, he came from Sydney, Australia, and spent many years as an advertising copywriter in England, Canada, and the USA, before becoming an author and moving to Spain with his Welsh wife and their kids. So all in all the guy could be considered a true man of the world, which I totally respect. But for now let's get back the focus of this post, and that's the book itself.

I first read 'The Seven Day Soldiers' in my teens when my dad brought a hardback copy back from the local library. Once he'd finished it, I gave it a go and found myself immediately caught up in the story and found myself racing towards the end. I do remember being impressed by the story's characters and the various twists and turns I encountered. The book soon went back to the library, of course, and that was that. I moved onto other books and consigned it to the past, although the title always remained in the back of my mind. Then a few years ago the name came back to me for some reason and I had a look for it on Amazon. As soon as I found a paperback copy, I quickly snapped it up and the moment it arrived I read it again in one sitting. And guess what. It turned out to be just as gripping as I remembered, which was a very pleasant surprise.

As far as the plot's concerned, we begin with Barney Rivers of New York State. He's your typical suburban everyman with the wife, the kids, and the mortgage. He's also broke. And he's not the only one. His neighbours, Tom and George, are also finding it hard to make ends meet. So they devise an ingenious little plan to tap a few grand from somebody's Swiss bank account by mail (ah, the innocent seventies) and are astounded when the scam actually works. They get the few thousand bucks apiece that they wanted and all of a sudden the three men are in the black again. Everything's roses.

But naturally it doesn't stay that way, otherwise there'd be no book. So rather than do the sensible thing and quit while they're ahead, the three get greedy and do it again. Only this time they try for more. And it works again, except they now find themselves with 167 million dollars of somebody else's money in their account. And that somebody turns out to be a ruthless ex-Caribbean dictator, who has his own small private army and no shortage of resources to track down the thieves.

Barney, aware that returning the money won't stop the forces he's set in motion, figures they've got a week at most before this ex-dictator closes in and massacres them (along their families). So he decides the only solution is to hire a specialist to teach them how to fight back. To this end, they're pointed towards a badass ex-Marine drill sergeant named Cambell, who was dishonourably discharged and who wouldn't say no to a decent payday. Although dubious at first, Cambell finally accepts the job and sets about the task of making soldiers out of sausages. In seven days.

And bang, there's your title. 'The Seven Day Soldiers.' Catchy, huh?

Kenrick does a pretty good job of constructing the story so that the first half of the book sets up the situation and the players, with the second half focusing on the men's training for the inevitable showdown to come. And he does a nice job with the four main protagonists too, with each man given his own unique personality and his own voice. And the dialogue's not bad, either. For instance, a sample from the initial exchange between Rivers and Cambell:

   'Who are you?'
   'I told you, my name's Rivers. I live up near Tarrytown. I dipped into a man's Swiss bank account and he turned out to have friends.'
   'Who gave you my name?'
   'A sergeant I talked to. He remembered you from Fort Jackson. His name's Larsen.'
   Cambell absorbed the information. 'Did Larsen tell you I could get you guns?'
   'No he didn't. And if you can't, tell me now and I'll get out of here.'
   'Goodbye,' Cambell said.

Simple and effective. Just how I like it. And I also like Kenrick's prose. For some reason it puts me in mind of Donald Westlake with it's witty, ironic turns of phrase. Here are the very first two paragraphs:

'It's a well known fact that Nature, that 'Creative and controlling force in the Universe,' as Webster's has it, abhors a vacuum. It's also a fact, although less well known, that Nature abhors an imbalance, too. Or too much of one thing and not enough of another. And the way it moves to adjust these imbalances, and the medium it sometimes chooses as an agent, can be very surprising indeed.

'In this instance, and this is what the story is about, the imbalance was a situation in which there existed a paucity of good and an over-abundance of evil, a situation that occurs all too often and so is not in itself very surprising. But the medium it chose to do something about it was Barney Rivers of Westchester, New York. Which is absolutely staggering.'

Not a bad way to start a book, is it? I'm not entirely sure it would work in today's marketplace, but it still pulls the reader in with a considerable amount of style.

So is it the perfect thriller? Well, I wouldn't go that far. For a start, this is an unabashed boys' book. It even says so on the cover: 'Should be on every gun freak's reading list.' And true enough, the reader is given numerous explanations throughout the story of what a certain weapon will do and what the effects will be. Added to which, the story's few female characters are little more than ciphers, something that's almost unheard of in this new millennium. And although Kenrick supplies a hand-drawn map of the battleground, when the final battle comes it's often hard to figure out which character's doing what, and where. Or perhaps that's just me. I don't know.

But I do know that despite these small gripes, 'The Seven Day Soldiers' still holds up as a great retro thriller novel with some great plot twists thrown in for good measure, and is definitely well worth seeking out in the second-hand marketplace.



* On a side note, the book was very quickly optioned by Hollywood as a potential vehicle for Steve McQueen. Of course, this was back in the days when just about everything was offered to McQueen, and it's unlikely he knew much about it. But still, when you're reading the book, you can see how seamlessly the actor would have slipped into the role of the taciturn, no-nonsense ex-drill-sergeant, Cambell, (who, without giving too much away, turns out to be the star of the story). It's like the role was made for him. Yet another one of life's 'what-ifs'.

** Another little piece of trivia. Although no official connection has ever been made, there was a film made in the eighties called 'Let's Get Harry' which 'borrowed' many of the plot elements from Kenrick's book. In this one, a group of white-collar pals hire a professional mercenary to train them up as soldiers in an equally unrealistic amount of time. Admittedly, it's for a different reason (they want to rescue another pal who's been kidnapped overseas), but the similarities are unmistakeable. It has to be said that it's not a particularly good film, although it does have an interesting cast (e.g. Glenn Frey, Gary Busey, and a shaven-headed, goateed Robert Duvall as the merc). But when the director disowns the movie before release and it then gets released straight to video, you kind of know you're onto a loser. To date it has never been released on DVD, although for those desperate to see it, the film can be found on Youtube.

Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers: Prelude

Whoa. What happened there? Almost a whole month without a blog post? Well, what can I say? It's simply inexcusable, I know. Anyway, I'm here now so let's move on.

So. Great 'Forgotten' Thrillers. What's that about? you ask. And what's with the inverted commas around the word 'forgotten'?

Well, it's really very simple. I was thinking about what to write for my next long-awaited post and as I did, I happened to take a look at my bookshelf and thought, That's it! I'll post about those thriller novels I love, but that for one reason or another haven't really lodged themselves in readers' consciousness. Could be because they went out of print not long after publication. Or it could be because the author in question wrote other, far more popular, books that overshadowed these ones. Could be any reason, really. But over the coming months I'll be talking about the ones that stuck with me.

Now I've made a prospective list in my notebook so I think it's only fair I give you a small preview of what's in store. I won't post the titles yet, but I will tease you with some of the author names. Coming up we've got offerings from such diverse talents as: William H. Hallahan, Joel Townsley Rogers, Ted Lewis, Roderick Thorp, Gavin Lyall, Dan Marlowe. And we've also got some big names too, such as Goldman, Levin, Gallagher, and Bachman. And that's just a sample.

Not too shabby, huh?

So I'll keep this one short. Next post will be in a day or two (promise!) and it's a good 'un from that forgotten thriller master from the seventies: Tony Kenrick.

Be here!

BACKTRACK Locations

Since my latest James Bishop thriller, BACKTRACK, has just come out in p'back, I thought now might be a good time to give a little insight on how I came up with the various real-life locations that can be found in the book. And the answer is: since much of the novel is set in Arizona I flew over and drove around the state until I found what I wanted. Simple, eh?

Now there'll be a slightly more detailed retelling of my research trip on my Facebook page pretty soon, so to avoid repeating myself I'll keep things on a more pictorial level for this particular blog post (you lucky people you).

So first up, we have a funky apartment complex in Coolidge, Arizona that kind of serves as Bishop's base of operations throughout much of the story (rear and front shots):

Next up, Coolidge's City Hall, which I used as an example of Saracen's business section. Further back is the town library, which plays a small cameo in the book when Bishop needs to check some town maps:

Bishop gains intimate knowledge of the interior of Saracen's Police Department building during BACKTRACK, which I completely made up. However, the exterior was based on Coolidge's police building with its distinctive cantilevered roof:

Here's a long-abandoned motel I found out in the middle of nowhere, with its dilapidated sign still out front. In the book, I reopened the motel for paying customers, spruced it up a little and used it as Clarissa Vallejo's temporary accomodations. I also liked the name so I used that too:

At one point Bishop has to use the rear entrance to surreptitiously get into the Garrick Medical Center. For this I borrowed the rear entrance of the hospital in Globe, Arizona:

At a later point Bishop has to wait for an important call at a public phone box. Since there aren't too many of them around anymore I was glad I found these outside a store in Wenden. I even made a minor supporting character out of the Latino guy at the end there.

A couple of shots of a garage in Salome, Arizona which I used as a basis for Bannings Automotive in Saracen. The oxyacetylene cylinders play a fairly important part in the book too, in case you were wondering.

This closed-down retro department store in Coolidge isn't in the book, but I thought this was such a cool shot I thought I'd share it anyway. Just look at that sky:

And finally, yours truly, looking very much at home in his Ray-Bans (fake) and baseball shirt (Fruit Of The Loom, 3 for a tenner on eBay):

Representation!

So where was I? Oh, yeah, I was still waiting for a response from the three agencies I'd approached.

To be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd heard all the horror stories by published authors who claimed to have been rejected twenty, thirty, forty times before getting their chance, and I was well aware I might fare no better. So I decided the best thing was to get back to my day job and try not to think about it too much. Easier said than done, of course, but the world keeps on turning, as they say.

But as it turned out I didn't have too long to wait. The first response came through the post about a fortnight later, and I pretty much knew what it contained before I even opened it. It was just your standard rejection letter. Nothing particularly noteworthy or personal about it. They just weren't interested in taking me on and wished me luck for the future. I think my initial response was 'Well, at least they responded.' But I also took major consolation from the fact that the rejection wasn't coming from my first choice agency. There was still a chance.

The next response came by email. And this time it was from my first choice: Camilla Wray at Darley Anderson. And guess what? Camilla really liked what she'd read so far and wanted me to send her the rest of the manuscript.

I can't honestly remember, but I think it's a safe bet I was walking on air for the rest of the day. Maybe the next, as well. Naturally, I sent the rest of the manuscript out to Camilla immediately in the hope that she'd like the rest of the book as much as she'd liked the samples.

I see no point in drawing out the suspense here, especially as I've named both the agency and the particular agent in question. Camilla did like THE WRONG MAN (although it had a different title then), but she also made it clear the manuscript needed a lot more work before she could make a decision about whether to represent me or not. Which, since a literary agent can only take on a couple of new clients a year at most, I felt was totally understandable.

Camilla then invited me up to the London offices where we had a coffee and got to know each other, while at the same time hashing out what needed to be done to the book. Plot holes needed to be filled and characters had to be strengthened. Pacing needed to adjusted, and exposition reduced. Basically, everything needed to be reworked. Fortunately, though, it was clear we thought along the same wavelengths, and almost every suggestion Camilla made I agreed with. The satisfactory meeting ended with me promising to come back with a third draft, after which Camilla would make a decision on whether to take things further.

Cut to three or four months later. I'd already made the required changes to the manuscript and had emailed the whole thing over to Camilla. A few weeks later, she contacted me again and said she LOVED the new draft and that she'd like to officially represent me!

Whoa. How much better can life get? That was a day I don't think I'll ever forget. In fact, I was on cloud nine for a whole week after hearing that. I actually had a literary agency representing my work! And not just any agency, but the one I'd earmarked from day one. Just goes to show - dreams can sometimes come true.

Now all we needed to do was find a publisher.

But that's for another time, I think. Next up, I'll talk about my trip to Arizona to research my latest novel, BACKTRACK...

Finishing THE WRONG MAN

There's a very famous quote of Hemingway's that goes: 'The first draft of anything is shit.' A sweeping generalisation, maybe, but it's essentially true. And it should be noted that Hemingway was a world famous author when he said that, so you can imagine what my first draft was like.

Although I was up against a self-imposed deadline, I knew I had to give myself enough time to produce a second draft before sending it out to prospective agents. The manuscript simply wasn't good enough as it was and needed a lot more work. And I mean a LOT. But I also knew I needed some time away from the story in order to be as objective as possible. So as much as I wanted to get straight onto the second draft, I forced myself to take a couple of weeks away from it so I could come back and look at things with a fresh perspective.

But they weren't wasted weeks, oh, no. When I wasn't at my day job, I was spending every spare moment thumbing through the Writers and Artists Yearbook, looking for literary agents that might be interested in representing another thriller writer. Although there was one agency I really liked (and who helpfully had a full-page ad on the inside front cover), I came up with about a dozen more possibles in case they weren't interested. I'm sure I could have found more, but I felt a baker's dozen was enough to be going on with. I also did a lot of research on how to submit to an agent. Fortunately the interweb was full of helpful sites that gave me the information and advice I needed. Such as: how to structure the query letter, making sure keep the thing as short as possible, don't submit blindly, name the agent correctly in your letter and on the envelope, etc. Most of it was common sense stuff I'd already worked out for myself, but it was good to have it confirmed.

Once that was done, I spent about ten days working on the two things every agent asks for: a query letter and a synopsis of the book in question. And I thought writing a novel was hard! But synopses. Man, don't get me started on synopses. All I'll say is that they're not one of my favourite things in life. But I did it. I sweated and I raged, but in the end I did it. Yet I knew the query letter itself was far more important, since this is what the prospective agent sees first. I probably spent a whole week on that letter, polishing it into something I felt no agent could ignore. By the end, I was left with just a couple of paragraphs, but what paragraphs they were! After working and working on them, I was finally satisfied that they contained everything that I wanted to get across.

So with those tasks done, I then came back, read through the manuscript again, hung my head in despair and really got down to it. Whole chapters of the book got moved around while others were erased completely. Numerous plot holes got filled. Dialogue got polished. Characters got fine-tuned. To be honest, I could have spent the rest of my life trying to make it better, but at some point you have to let go and just put it out there. So I made copies of the first three chapters, stuck them in three large manila envelopes along with a synopsis and a personally addressed query letter, and sent them off to my top three choices.

And I waited...