The Blog of Stuart MacBride

Eat, drink and be merry…

For tomorrow you go back to Aberdeen. Well, it was a great night last night. After a pretty iffy start – due to public transport from Guildford into the centre of London being an absolute disaster. By the time delays on the underground came into play there wasn’t even time to drop off the suitcase and laptop at the hotel – straight to the HarperCollins offices for me, wedged between some fat man’s armpit and someone who had eaten WAY too much garlic. Maybe they were some sort of balding vampire hunter? And I’m pretty certain someone was practising frottage…

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Things that go ‘yaaaaaaaaar, ssssfffg’ in the night

Unnnnngh… I’ve never liked staying in hotels. Being one of those picky sods who needs complete silence and darkness to get any sort of sleep at all – even in my own bed – the whole experience just doesn’t work for me. Last night’s non-slumber comes courtesy of a bed like marshmallow, sheets like starched sandpaper and what wounded like an entire rock band, presumably out of their faces on various chemicals, determined to make as much noise as possible at completely random intervals. I swear they were having sex with reticent camels… that’s what it sounded like anyway. And…

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The trouble with being a daytime blogger

You’re always ahead and behind the curve. At the same time. I do most of mine during lunch, or maybe a little bit after work. Or if there’s b****r all else I can do, because I’m waiting for someone to do something before I can get on with something else. Unfortunately, everyone else seems to do theirs in the evening – or the ones I read anyway (such as John Rickards [who appears to be nocturnal and doesn’t read British crime anyway: twit])– or are US based (like the ever-loquacious Madame Weinman [who’s on holiday, but you know what I…

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Val McDermid Rocks

(by which I don’t mean that she is unstable in any way: this is purely an expression of admiration) The lovely Val, one of the biggest guns in UK crime fiction has been kind enough to say nice things about the book and provided a lovely blurb. This will no doubt get plastered all over the book jacket for all to see, enticing them to part with their well earned dosh in exchange for THE BOOK. I really like her work as well, so I’m pretty stoked about it. Ahem, drum roll please… “Ferocious and funny, this is Tartan Noir…

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Guildford-a-go-go…

Well, here we are again (or, I am at any rate), sat in a little office in Guildford for the project that forms my delightful day job. At least the flight down this time was a nice surprise: there was some sort of mistake with the electronic check-in thing and I ended up flying business class, instead of being strapped to the undercarriage like usual. Ahhh… Hot, moist towelettes and “would you care for something else to drink, sir?” OK, so it’s half nine in the morning and the only real options are orange juice and tea, but it’s the…

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The cat! The damn cat!

OK, I must confess that I was kinda anti-getting-a-cat for a long time. OK, they’re cute, but they’re also all hairy and they shed fluff everywhere and I sneeze and make with the pink-golf-balls eyes. But, after years of ‘reminding’ I finally caved in and we bought a tiny, wee Maine Coon kitten, called Grendel (who’s destined to grow up to be the size of a Ford Escort by all accounts). So far so good. I rationalised this decision by reasoning that ‘Madam la Peep’ could keep me company on those long days at the keyboard, maybe curled up beside…

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Scary things happening on the couch…

Well, it’s happened at last: ‘She Who Must Be Indulged’ has finally read one of my books. FYI: I’ve been writing for YEARS and years now (Cold Granite being the fifth book to ooze from the old steam-powered subconscious), and never has my good lady wife risked reading my stuff. Just in case she didn’t like it. Which I can understand, not an easy thing to read through a loved one’s book, turn around with a smile, maybe place a soft hand on the cheek and say, “What a heap of old p**p!” Or worse yet – lie about it…

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Norway pips UK to the post!

In a bizarre twist of things that didn’t look all that straight in the first place, Cold granite is actually going to be hitting the bookshelves in Oslo two months earlier than it will in Aberdeen – or anywhere else in the world come to that. Which is odd. I was getting so used to the idea that we’d be holding out here until May. But them good folks at Tiden Norsk Forlag won’t be restrained! And they’re even going to have me across to Oslow to do the publicity thing. Which is very nice of them, in a personally…

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The Blurbs, they is a pouring in…

Well, not exactly pouring, but dribbling perhaps. The lovely people at St Martin’s Press have been chucking out proofs of Cold Granite to all and sundry and someone has already come back with a blurb so glowing I’m too embarrassed to quote it here. A nice lady called Deborah Crombie seems to think it’s not that bad ;}# Bit of a freaky coincidence considering the discussion going on at Sarah Weinman’s blog this weekend. All I need now are about another hundred or so rave pre-reviews and I might actually start believing I’ve got a shot at doing this for…

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The first post of DOOOOOM!!!

Well, as I’ve yet to decide what to do with this thing yet, I suppose I’ll have to go away and think about it… I only registered to poke fun at John Rickards but now that this is here I may actually have to put some effort into it! Nooooooo!!!

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