I’ve recently finished reading something factual about chemical and biological warfare. I’m looking for ideas for my next Patrick Sansom book in which he will have to travel in clandestine fashion to Iran on a humanitarian mission. Crikey!

Anyway, after that depressing venture into Man’s darkest hour I felt that I needed something ‘light’, a bit of swashbuckling adventure to cheer me up. That is how I found myself reading ‘Treasure of Khan’ by Clive Cussler. It was a book that I picked up off the staff table at work where it looked like it had been placed having been read and was being passed on in a sort of unofficial lending library fashion. Either that or I stole it from someone who inadvertently left it there after their tea-break. We don’t get many English language books in the staffroom at Istanbul City Zoo, so you don’t ask questions if you see one lying around.

I’ve only read one other Cussler. That was ‘Raise The Titanic’ and it was many years ago. Many, many years ago. However, I will never forget something that I read in that book that I still believe is one of the most absurd descriptions that I’ve ever come across. The hero of the book ends up shagging the woman, naturally, and when the dirty deed is done replies to her enquiry after her performance that she made love like a ‘spastic tiger’. I still have no idea whether he meant it as a compliment or not. Cussler must like the word spastic because I came across it again in this book. Maybe that’s what reminded me of that quote from RTT.

So, what’s this got to do with hope springing eternal? Well, I’m on page 124 and I can’t actually believe how appallingly this man writes. There’s a long way to go – nearly 700 pages if I can tough it out – but to be honest I’m beginning to wonder if life might just be too short to persevere with it and that battered copy of ‘Brighton Rock’ keeps winking at me from my bedside table. But it might turn into one of those reading experiences where one just keeps going because a) it can’t really be that bad all the way through, can it? and b) I have to find something of merit in it somewhere and c) every awful page that I read makes me more optimistic about my own writing.

Cussler has over two dozen titles to his name – some are collaborative efforts, admittedly – and he is so famous that he must be a multi-zillionaire. He has legions of fans. Some of his books have been made into films. But if the writing in this particular book is characteristic of his writing generally then he is dire. Honestly, I found myself thinking that if I was reading this as a first draft of something that I had written I’d have pressed select all and delete and gone and mowed the lawn.

Everything about the writing is just so bad. The descriptions of people are so bad, the ‘quality’ of the writing is so bad, the plot, such as it is so far, is so bad, the dialogue is atrociously bad. It’s just all-round bad. And I know that any one of my five books is better than this rubbish. I am not exaggerating when I say that when I was an English teacher I marked stories of ten year-olds who had a more engaging writing style than what I’ve read so far.

So, hope springs eternal. If this crap can get published surely I can. Can’t I? Bodrum mansion here I come.

By the way if you’re still wondering what the hell a picture of a golfer is doing in this post the answer is: Tiger Woods putting a bit spastically, as Mr Cussler might be tempted to pen.

Yesterday I finished the final, final proof-reading of my first Romney and Marsh book, Enough Rope. Today I have begun the process of editing the computerised version of the book to match my corrections/alterations. Next step will be formatting for an e-book. It all takes time, but then so does everything else like working and eating and commuting and being a father of a one-year-old and sleeping. And there are only so many hours in the day.

On the whole I am fairly pleased with the book still. If I had to write it again I don’t think that I would change anything. I don’t think that it can be improved by me. I freely admit that I’m no Booker winner (I wouldn’t even make the so-long list) but I know that I have given this book my best; the best as the writer that I was when I wrote it. This was my second attempt at writing a full-length novel.

I find myself, however, in a bit of a dilemma with these three books. I think that the second book is better than the first and the third is better than both of the first two. I don’t know why exactly. It could be because the characters have grown in the books and in my mind and become more real and familiar that I feel this way. It could be that I prefer the storylines in the second and third books. It could also be because I found myself enjoying the writing of the second and third more than the first.

I like humour. I try to be funny sometimes. It doesn’t always work, of course. People have different tastes in these things. In the first Romney and Marsh book the subject material did not lend itself to any attempt at humour – there isn’t much to laugh at in a brutal rape – and I wasn’t thinking about trying to be funny. In the second book I found myself looking for opportunities to make light of a few things and I like to think that I succeeded once or twice – I still find the idea of Detective Inspector Romney deliberately walking dog-shit up the length of the expensive white carpet of someone’s hallway that he didn’t much like amusing. In the third book I was deliberately fabricating opportunities to include humour. Consequently, there are several passages that still make me laugh even now.

When I started writing these Romney and Marsh books I had no intention of trying to make passages or the characters humorous in any way. They were going to be serious crime fiction. Now, I like the fact that they are leaning that way more and more. It amuses me. I’m considering my audience more: me.

So, my dilemma is this: my aim is to release the first book in the series and then hope for some positive reviews on Amazon, for example, and – not least because the book will be free to download – a good number of take-ups. Then I want people to be interested enough to pay a little something for the second book and the third. That’s the plan. But if I consider the best book is the third shouldn’t I be starting with that? But I can’t really because it’s a series. But I could, maybe, because they don’t rely on each other. One doesn’t need to have read the first and second to understand or appreciate the third. But I want to release them in the order that they were written and, come to think of it, there are strands of the three that are drawn out in a chronological order. It’s awkward. If no one likes the first much they won’t be tempted to pay for the second and third. Shouldn’t I be putting my best foot (book) forward? I don’t need this.

Well, I was right about one thing. Inserting prurient keywords into my most recent blog-post heading certainly ensured that my post attracted a wider audience. Who’d have thought that so many would be interested in the term, ‘female ejaculation’ ?

Inundated, swamped, teeming, flooded, none of these words seems to adequately describe the tsunami of responses, comments and hits that my inbox is struggling with. It is truly staggering.

Admittedly most of those who were attracted to my experimental post expressed their bitter disappointment at the lack of images and video clips depicting the subject matter. (To be clear, there are none.) I have had to suffer a considerable amount of abuse, two broken (cyber) windows and a death threat.

The site moderator asked me to review my post title and my position. The Turkish authorities have expressed a concern at my online activity (I didn’t think that through did I?). My employer (how did they find it?) is demanding a written explanation and apology (for what, they didn’t say.)

At the last count my blog hits had actually trebled when compared with hits received for earlier posts. Typically, my initial forays into the world of blogging were averaging one hit each (I have to admit that this was me checking up on myself). Including a smutty phrase in the title saw me reach the dizzying heights of three blog hits and a whole load of trouble. Live and learn.

Seriously – what the hell do I have to do around here to get noticed?

Still engaged on the final, final proof read of Rope Enough – The First Romney and Marsh File. Half way through the book. Had to stop for reflection after reading a sex-scene. It’s the only sex-scene that I have included in the three books. It’s a bit graphic and involves female ejaculation that ends up all over Detective Inspector Romney’s trousers. Don’t ask. And to think that I got my aged mother to read this for me. No wonder she avoided me for a while afterwards and stopped answering the phone. At least she had the good manners and good grace not to mention it in her critique.

I remember at the time feeling that to include the sex-scene was the right thing to do. I still don’t reflect on it at gratuitous, however, that doesn’t stop me feeling a little uncomfortable with it. But such is art. Those two who played the leads in Blowjob Mountain, or Backdoor Mountain, or Bummer’s-Moon Mountain, or whatever it was called probably felt the same way when they had to French kiss each other on screen and consign themselves to cinematic gaydom – uncomfortable but, as artistes, committed and professional. That’s me (not gay, but committed and professional).

Disclaimer: I have nothing against gay people and I am in no way homophobic. In fact I might even include some gay people in one of my future novels to prove it. Hang on, I’ve just remembered that there are two lesbians in my third Romney and Marsh book – Joint Enterprise – but they do not feature in a graphic sex-scene gratuitous or otherwise. Sorry for that if you are disappointed. They do hold hands once across the table in a restaurant.

And finally, with a title like that I will be interested to see if my blog hits suddenly increase from approximately one view (and that’s just me re-reading it after it’s gone viral. It still gives me a buzz.)

One thing that I’ve quickly come to realise about blogging is that essentially one is writing to and for ones self. Firstly, I can’t even find my blog if I copy and paste the http address into Google  so what chance would anyone else have of stumbling across me? Maybe I’m just doing something wrong. Maybe I’ve clicked a button in settings that says ‘Keep Blog Private’. Hang on, I’d better just check that. No, I haven’t. Secondly, it seems that the world and his wife are so busy blogging that no one has any time to spare to comment on other people’s blogs. Can anyone else smell sour grapes?

But it doesn’t matter anyway because this blog was not conceived as something that people were going to read or subscribe to in their legions with a view to keeping up with my occasional witterings about my mundane existence or my dull views of anything.  From the outset it has been intended to be a weblink that people who might download one of my books from Amazon Kindle (when they are finally uploaded) could follow to see what’s planned or what they’ve missed or what they can look forward to or what they will know to avoid in future. (Cunningly, I’m going to include my blog web address in the uploaded Kindle book. I notice another self-publisher did this. Mind you, there’s not much point if the web address doesn’t lead anywhere. I will have to sort that out.) And, of course, it’s going to serve as a record of my self-publishing venture. My self-publishing diary. Depending on how that goes I might have some useful stuff to include for any others who decide to do what I’m going to but don’t know where to start (and stumble across my blog when they type in search terms like ‘failed self-publishing experiment’ or perhaps ‘how to make a million pounds from self-publishing your set of three crime novels’). To that end I’m including in the Blogroll any links that I think might prove useful or interesting.

Today I made a start on my final, final proof read of my first title, Rope Enough.  Actually, that’s not strictly true. I started by reading the first three chapters yesterday, but I was tired and feared that I hadn’t been concentrating and might have missed something. So today I shut myself away for a while and started again, but with a difference. It’s a difference that is instantly working and paying dividends for me. I’m reading the book out loud to myself. It’s not a proof reading technique that I read about; it’s just a different approach for reading a book that I’ve read at least five times already. And, like I said, it’s paying dividends.

Reading aloud gives another dimension to the reception of the text. Because I’m hearing it, I’m hearing things that don’t flow, words that could be bettered, things that aren’t necessary. I’m also enjoying hearing the story. I’m making alterations that I wouldn’t have thought to make if I hadn’t heard the text and I think that they are all improvements. That’s seems obvious, doesn’t it? I mean as an aspiring Kindle millionaire I’m hardly likely to deliberately make the book worse am I? But I hope that you know what I mean? I do, actually. And it needed saying. (That was me blogging to and for myself and answering me.) Of course, now that I’ve started I’ll have to continue reading aloud, which could get a bit awkward on the bus in the mornings. Still, as I always say, fuck everyone else.

Yesterday I made a couple of extra pages for my blog. They were unrelated pages about the separate series of books that I’m writing. I realise that now that I’ve done this I have an opportunity to give a brief synopsis of each of the titles included in each series. That will fit in with my self-promotion to me about my books. I can’t wait to write and then read them (probably aloud for effect).

I’m very new to blogging. I’ve currently been doing it for about a week. Most of that time has been spent trying to understand how to set up my blog rather than actually writing anything. Tonight, for instance, I worked out how to add links and a blogroll and new pages. I’m really impressed and astounded that I can customise my own piece of cyber space with all these widgets and none of it costs a penny. That’s brilliant and a wonderful thing.

When I was figuring out my long-game plan for my self-publishing I thought that I’d need a website. I even bought my domain name in advance – olivertidy.com. Now, I’m not so sure. Having spent a couple of evenings getting to know and understand the options and possibilities of a blog I’m beginning to think that a blog might be all that I need.

What I need from a weblink for anyone whose interest I can attract to my titles is simply somewhere that they can visit to see something of my proposed publishing time-line and maybe a bit of blurb on each of the books. As I have been able to set up two new pages on this blog to incorporate the two series of books that I have written/am writing this would appear to have satisfied that need.

Looking around at what I’ve managed tonight I’m really quite pleased with the way it’s shaping up. For the first couple of days I felt like I’d just moved in to a new flat. My blog was bare and functional. There were no pictures on the walls or books on the shelves. Now, I have both. Now, it’s beginning to feel like home.