Those of you who know my attitude to mobile phones and complicated projectors will probably need to slump into the nearest seat at this point and inhale deeply. But I’ve become increasingly conscious of (and prodded about) a need to keep readers updated, so this is my attempt to drag myself into the era of enlightenment.

The blog is embryonic at the moment; I’m relying on you to help me bring it to maturity. Do let me know what you like, what you hate, what you’d like to hear about.

Big Issues

Though I’m happy as a pig in mud to be squirrelled away in my study writing, I confess I struggle with the marketing and publicity that goes with the job. I should have been a hermit. A deep dark cave and a computer? I’m your man. But self promotion? Back of the queue. Don’t get me wrong, though … if you invite me, I’m happy to talk about what I do, what I write. Just don’t ask me to push myself forward. It all goes back to my puritanical upbringing.

Publicity and marketing are preoccupying me more than I like at the moment. With two new manuscripts submitted to Luath Press I’m naturally impatient to see the finished product on the bookshelves, but the publishing process involves complicated staged procedures (mysterious things known only unto the initiated), and grinds oh so slowly. I try to pretend that, once the manuscript is handed over, everyone else will nurse it into a bestseller but there are bits of it – like the professional contact end, and researching things – that have an unpleasant habit of bouncing squarely into my court. Sadly. No escape. Not even pleading pressure of writing – hey, not with two books already backed up! So I have to grit my teeth, swallow my embarrassment, and get down to it. Alison Baverstock, in Marketing your Book: An Author’s Guide, recommends, work at attracting one reader at a time. I can tell you, I clutch at that straw on a daily basis right now! And scuttle back to my writing as soon as that one poor unsuspecting recruit is safely signed and sealed.

But it’s not all weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. I had a new experience a couple of weeks ago – yes, even at my advanced age such things do happen. I opened the pages of the latest edition of the Big Issue and there was a photograph of … me! And no, I haven’t yet joined the ranks of the homeless, in spite of the impact of the financial crisis on struggling authors. It was a full-page advert for the Writers Bureau profiling the winners of their 20^th Anniversary writing competition. Totally unexpected publicity. And nobody turned to stare at me on the bus. Phew! The advert was in Private Eye too apparently, but people don’t read that on buses, do they?

I had a brilliant morning doing a radio programme, too. It was part of a series on artists who deal with the big questions of life, Art of the Matter, that went out on Radio Scotland recently. See, that’s the difference. They contacted me – found my website and thought, aha, here’s a likely customer. Surreal it was; having a programme made about me, I mean, not being contacted. The interviewer, Edie Stark, and producer, Serena Field, were such fascinating people themselves; I wanted to interview them! They came to my home because they wanted ‘texture and atmosphere’ (upmarket euphemisms for muddle and domesticity), and we drank mulled wine (what else for mulling over the dilemmas society faces?) and generally put the world to rights.

And now I come to think about it, I actually quite enjoy the adrenaline rush of beating the clock, too … well, except the deadlines that keep me up through the wee small hours. Ethical dilemmas make headlines so I do sometimes get asked to comment on news items – things like responding to TV dramas, documentaries, parliamentary reports or consultation documents (eg. short-stay-in Switzerland; Sunday Express, 14 December 2008, p22). Even the man who was looking for a which-author’s-work-makes-you-wish- you’d-never-been-born kind of column wanted the answers yesterday (stories-of-my-life). But he was so outstandingly polite (believe me, it’s not common in the cut-throat world of Fleet Street) I forgave his inexplicable haste. I guess journalists always need a store to dip into in case all the criminals stop committing crimes and all the politicians stop wasting taxpayers’ money.

So on reflection I guess I’d have to qualify my earlier statement. I’m quite happy to come out of my deep dark cave if I’m invited. Occasionally. I just don’t like thrusting myself forward.