I forgot to say why I started this blog, and I’m still struggling with the idea of how anyone could possibly find it and feel they wanted to read it anyway. I write crime novels but then, so do tens of thousands of others, so we all need to whore ourselves about and turn into attention-seekers.
Fame and fortune would be nice but, for me, being read is the primary aim. I won’t yet get into the debate about paper books versus ebooks because it seems that, with the latest ereaders, the reading experience is close to the traditional one. There’s a magical intimacy about entering a text and becoming part of the reality it creates – indeed, helping to create that same reality. As a writer, I put the characters onto the page/screen, but they only live when a reader energises them, and they then belong to that reader. He/she gives them shape, likes/dislikes them, approves or disapproves – and the alchemy of reading kicks in.
It’s great to think of strangers thousands of miles away, whom I’ll never meet, sharing secrets. It’s a privilege, too.
And yet, and yet … there are so many words to read nowadays, words such as those you’re reading now, in the jam-packed blogosphere – many highly entertaining and informative – and the clamour is so insistent that it’s hard to distinguish individual voices.
And yet, and yet … here I am adding to the uproar. And it’s great, because it’s all a celebration – not of any specific faith or belief, but just of being here. To me, life is absurd, without direction or purpose but it’s helluva lot of fun and we need to fill every minute of it, because it’s all we have.
So there, my not very profound insights into reading and a brief summary of existence itself.
Oh, I nearly forgot the plug. I’ve uploaded the trailer for my third novel, 'The Darkness'. People have said it’s scary. I’d appreciate your reaction to it. You'll find it at: