The Blog of Stuart MacBride

First airports and now evenings…

Actually sat down at the computer and wrote last night, after getting home from work. Doesn’t happen very often these days, so I feel it’s something of an achievement. As I’m on this weird part time thing where I work for someone else 12 business days out of every 20, I tend to save up all the writing to the time I’m home. Oh, and weekends. And when I’m in hotels. Or airports… Anyway, managed some happy smiley scenes of post dismemberment blues. With any luck this will be the start of a trend and I’ll be able to get…

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Airport writing…

Writing crime fiction in airport waiting lounges isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. OK, so it was the BMI business lounge at Heathrow (thanks to the old silver card) and there’s free Gin and cheese, but I still only managed 694 words. Which is kinda poor. I had hoped to get a bit more done on the plane back to Aberdeen, but it was packed. And even though I had that coveted right hand window seat, the one next to me was occupied. Can’t do it if someone’s watching (and yes, I know that makes me sound like someone…

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The slow mambo of events

And then there were two: according to the lovely Fiona (not wife Fiona, who is also lovely, but HC publicity wunderkind Fiona) there’s an invite in the post to the Edinburgh Literary Festival. Don’t know to do what, possibly pick up all the sticky tissues after the next Ian Rankin reading, or maybe some sort of panel thing? Who knows? This brings the total number of ‘Things What I Must Go To’ to two. So the dance card is slowly beginning to fill, but I’m obviously not the prettiest girl at the ball. Maybe it’s the big, manly beard? But…

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Beer sleep

As I’m down in Guildford on a regular basis at the moment, Phil – mine uber-agent – feels impelled to get together for a small glass of sherry every now and then. It takes him away from his lovely wife and kiddies, but he struggles through it, because he feels it is his duty. He certainly doesn’t enjoy drinking beer and eating bacon frazzles. No, no, no, no, no… Last night involved a couple of small ales in a wee pub at the end of the High Street, wedged between a VERY LOUD PUB QUIZ, a speaker playing vintage rock…

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Hotels: I love them

Well, that’s another night spent in a Guildford hotel – Holiday Inn, the most expensive one yet. Complete with mini bar and pillow menu. I had the goose down and porcini mushroom with a white port glaze. And still couldn’t sleep. Grrnnnn… Worse yet: I’d managed to write a rather nasty segment for book 2 on the plane on the way down and was looking forward to expanding on the theme (involving as it does the removal of fingers) in the evening. But it was not to be. Instead it was ‘team building’ time. Whoo, and indeed, Hoo. There’s something…

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A chapter a day keeps the publisher at bay…

Book two is finally beginning to show its true colours. After months of letting the stuff fall out of my head, it’s now entering the last 20%, which means that all that stuff I wrote and didn’t understand is finally starting to make some sense to me. ‘Ahhhh…’ I say to myself, or the cat if she looks like she’s listening, ‘so THAT’s why I made up that person / place / armadillo way back in September.’ It’s an odd thing this writing malarkey. I have come to the conclusion that it’s the old subconscious that does all the work…

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Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we’re back…

Well that’s a shock to the system. 12 days at home writing stuff – with the cat providing creative input – and now it’s back to the day job again. Which really, really hurts. I think it was actually easier when I was working full time and cramming the writing into the evenings and weekends. OK you don’t have a life outside a computer monitor, get a bit pasty and develop a taste for braaaaainnsssss, braaaaaainsssssss, but you don’t have the whole ‘getting back into the swing of things’ to get past the whole time. Now getting back into the…

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And we’re off…

Well, that’s it for a little bit, as far as the blog’s concerned. The great thing about having gone part time is that I get to take it all in one lump, so every four weeks I get to spend one and a half of them at home – fighting a war of attrition with the cat and bashing away at the new book (60% under the old belt and aiming for a Christmas finish). The bad bit is that as I’m a home hermit (second class) I’m devoid of this internet thing, so no access to the blog for…

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The First Signing Frenzy

Which has to be the second most surreal even of the year – the first being getting a publish deal. This was one of those spontaneous things sparked off by Damon, who I honestly thought was taking the p*** to begin with. You want me to sign a proof of the book? You’re joking right – you do know that this is just me? Not some big fancy writer bloke? But no, he was being totally sincere. And then so was a whole slew of people – Marketing, International Sales, Editorial… Unless of course they were just humouring me. Which…

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The Agenda of Secrecy

This is one of those odd ones top be posting about, but Kelly Ragland (the lovely lady who edits the US version of Cold Granite for St. Martin’s Press) has been lurking – anonymously reading this blog safe in the knowledge that nobody know (till now) – and wanted to know how the whole secrecy thing is going. You see, I’ve been kinda circumspect about the whole three book deal thing. In fact, I’ve not told anyone about it. Not a soul. Well, three souls: the good lady wife (Fiona), my line manager (and I had to tell him so…

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