That Was The Year That Was

It’s been a helluva year!

Most of you who follow my blogs will know something of the publication history of “The Blackhouse” – how it was rejected by all the major publishing houses in the UK before being snapped up by my French publisher, Le Rouergue.  They then sold it all around Europe and brokered a three-book deal with London publishing house, Quercus, UK publisher of the year in 2011.

Well, “The Blackhouse” was finally published in the UK in February last year, and went straight into the top twenty hardback bestsellers chart at No.16.

Meantime, back in France, the book (in it’s French incarnation, “L’île des chasseurs d’oiseaux”) had already won the readers’ prize at the prestigious Le Havre crime writing festival, but was then, to my delight, shortlisted for one of the biggest readers’ prizes in the world – the Prix Cezam.  Ten books from around Europe are selected for the Cezam shortlist, then read and voted on by more than 3,500 readers in adjudicated groups all over France.

A rare moment to relax on a deserted Breton beach

That nomination obliged me to travel widely around the country talking to these groups about the book, and about my writing in general – during which time I was also busy writing the third book in what is now called “The Lewis Trilogy” (“The Blackhouse” being the first).  In hotel rooms and trains I spent countless hours tapping away on my laptop, criss-crossing France – from Brittany to Paris, from Lyon to Nantes.

I also spent the Spring in training for a research trip in June to the mountains of south-west Lewis.  This entailed getting sturdy walking boots a waterproof jacket, a woolly hat and walking stick, and tramping up hill and down dale to get myself fit.

In the event, nothing could prepare me for the appalling climatic conditions that battered me on my arrival on the island.  Up in the mountains winds were gusting to a 100 kph, spitting rain and stinging hail into my face.  During a week of bruising weather, I hiked through some of the most rugged, desolate and inaccessible wilderness in Scotland.

Returning to France, satisfied but exhausted, I learned that “The Blackhouse” had been selected as one of eight books for the Richard & Judy Autumn Book Club – which is now sponsored by WH Smith, the biggest bookseller in Britain, with more than 1000 retail outlets.

So at the end of August I headed off to London to record an interview with Richard and Judy to coincide with the paperback publication of “The Blackhouse” and the announcement of the autumn list.  

The book shot straight into the top ten.  In all, it spent nearly three months in the top thirty, and sold more than 100,000 copies.  And because it turned out to be the bestselling book of the R&J autumn selection, it received its own extended display in all WH Smith stores after Christmas and is still selling like hotcakes.

Receiving the CEZAM in Strasbourg

As if all this wasn’t heady enough, I learned in September that I had won the Prix Cezam!  Not just the national prize, but 21 out of the 25 regional prizes as well.  This obliged me to attend the national prize-giving in Strasbourg in mid-October, before embarking on a two month tour of France to collect the regional awards.

Then came the news to top it all off.  The Lewis Trilogy had been bought by Silver Oak, the Quercus imprint of Sterling, one of the biggest publishing houses in America. “The Blackhouse” will make its first US appearance in September, with an initial hardback print run of more than 50,000 copies.

As I sit here writing this, the second book in the trilogy, “The Lewis Man”, has just been published.  Quercus tell me that advance sales already guarantee its status as a bestseller, and if the first reviews are anything to go by, it looks set to surpass the success of its predecessor.

To promote the publication, Quercus commissioned a glossy book trailer from big name music video producers, The Forest of Black, and to be honest I think it is one of the best book trailers I have seen.

Even as I stop to draw breath, I have learned that “The Lewis Man” (already out in France under the title “L’homme de Lewis”) has been shortlisted for a literary prize awarded by the readers of the French daily newspaper, Le Télégramme.  And so it all begins again!

But what of the writing.  It’s easy to forget amid this maelstrom that, in the end, the writing is what it’s all about.  Well, I have completed the third book in the trilogy, “The Chess Men”, and just signed a new three-book contract.

However, I have to confess to a deep melancholy.

My sadness comes from saying goodbye to the characters I have lived with 24/7 during these last few years.  Fin and Marsaili, Angel and Calum.  Donald, Tormud, Ceit, and others whom you have yet to meet.  They have been with me through all the ups and the downs, from the despair of rejection to the elation of success.  Characters whose lives I have lived with them, and sometimes for them.  People as real to me as family and friends.  And yet, as I wrote the final few words of the third book, I knew that I would never see them again.

The sense of loss is almost as great as the grief you experience with the death of a loved one, or the loss of a lover.  I have to admit to sitting at my computer weeping unashamedly as I typed the last lines of the final chapter.

I guess the only consolation is that new friends await me.  I have no idea yet who they are, but I know that together we have a roller-coaster few years ahead of us.

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French Award

The Blackhouse is the book that British publishers rejected en masse 6 years ago. Today it is at No.7 in the bestselling UK paperback chart – its 7th week in the Top Twenty. And yesterday it won one of the most prestigious literary prizes in France.

The Prix Litteraire Cezam Inter-CE, is notable for having one of the largest juries in the world of literary prizes. Throughout the year more than 3500 jurors meet in 330 reading groups across France to read, consider and discuss a shortlist of ten books from around Europe before voting using a points system. The votes are collected, verified and counted by the librarians and bookstore owners responsible for leading the groups.

The prize is in two parts, regional and national. Votes are counted first at a local level with prize winners being declared in each of 26 regions; then the points are amassed across France to calculate the winner of the National Award. “L’île des chasseurs d’oiseaux”, which is the French translation of “The Blackhouse”, won 21 out of the 26 regional prizes, making it the runaway national winner.

I picked up the national award in Strasbourg yesterday in the amphitheatre of the Faculty of Medicine, in front of an audience of 250 – participants in the vote who had come from all corners of France without knowing who the winner was.

On an enormous screen behind the stage, the ten nominated books were counted down one by one, according to their place in the vote, until only two remained. The winning book was then heralded by the arrival of a piper who entered through a door at the back of the amphitheatre. I was ushered on to the stage to the accompaniment of Scotland the Brave, proudly sporting my kilt, to receive a cheque, a hand-crafted fountain pen, bottles of wine, and a huge Alsation crockpot.

Following my thank-you speech, I was interviewed in front of the audience for an hour by Strasbourg bookstore owner, Gilles Million. The session ended with questions from the floor, the last of which was an enquiry about my age. I had to reveal that I would be 60 in two months, but added – to thunderous applause – that in the anglo-saxon world 60 was the new 40, and that life now begins at 60.

The presentation was followed by a two-hour signing session, which achieved a sellout of both The Blackhouse and The Lewis Man.

From today I will be embarking on a two-month tour of France to attend regional award ceremonies across the country. The tour is being combined with appearances at bookstores to promote “The Lewis Man” (L’homme de Lewis), the follow-up to “The Blackhouse”.

I recently had an email conversation with one of those British editors who originally rejected “The Blackhouse”, and who generously wrote to congratulate me on its success. She said, “At the time, I didn’t see how to sell it. Obviously I was wrong.”

I wrote back to say that I was not unhappy, since the book had found its time, and its place, with the right publisher – Quercus. But if it wasn’t for my French publisher, Le Rouergue, who rescued it from obscurity by buying world rights and selling it across Europe, the book would probably never have seen the light of day.

So it was particularly sweet to win this award in my adopted country – vindication for the French publisher who had faith in the book when no one else did.

Here is a list of the places I will be visiting between now and mid-December:

Macon
Bourg en Bresse
Annecy
Lyon
Clermont Ferrand
Angers
Nantes
Paris
Lorient
Brest
Quimpier
Angoulême
Gardanne
Toulon
Lyon (again)
Annonay
Villefranche de Rouergue

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Jet2 Strike Back!

Following yesterday’s blog about our nightmare journey on Jet2 from Toulouse to Edinburgh via Nice, I made an amazing discovery… Jet2, it seems, employ internet spies. People who trawl the net looking for critical comments about their precious company and then striking back with self-righteous indignation – as well as slagging off the competition.

I linked to my blog from my Facebook fan page, which automatically posts it to Twitter.

And all afternoon, while trying to catch up on lost sleep, my iPad get chiming alerts from incoming tweets.

This was the tirade that awaited me when I finally gave up on trying to sleep and looked to see who was making so much noise (broken up, of course into tweet-sized chunks). It was from someone called “Cabinflyer30″. No giveaway there, then…

“Your blog made me chuckle (oh yeah?). Jet2 always push to get their passengers to their destinations. Whatever obstacles are put in their way. Even a strike out of their control. Many airlines would simply cancel and strand you until the next available flight becomes available. They don’t have the facility for free drinks on board. There isn’t enough to go round everyone on the plane. Also, if you take no hold bags, let them choose your seat and pay by electron, the first price you see is the price you pay. All the other add ons are variable depending on what you select. One day you will experience a real ordeal when your flight gets cancelled by the likes of Ryanair.”

Wow! This company doesn’t like criticism, and comes chasing you down if you dare to take their name in vain. I replied, as follows, in more tweet-sized chunks:

“Who the hell has electron? And when I fly with my partner I want to sit beside her. They didn’t even carry their advertised refreshments, or make any allowance for the extra hours. Information was non-existent. Yesterday I did experience a real ordeal at the hands of an airline that doesn’t give a damn about customer care. Let them give me an honest price and if I don’t want a bag in the hold deduct it from the total. Just a little honesty, please. And I wonder who pays your wages!”

Back came Cabinflyer30:

“I wonder. LOL! I really care about my job. And believe me, they really do care about the customer. The easy option if they didn’t care would be to cancel the flight. What products didn’t they have available? Sandwiches? If so, these can sell out. There is only so much space in the chiller for these. With bags… all the competitors charge for bags. If they were included the base price would be higher than the competition. When you choose free online check-in, system gives you adjacent seats free of charge.”

I was getting tired of the vacuous stream of PR tat by then and replied, simply: “Give me a break!”

But Cabinflyer30 wouldn’t let it go:

“Give me a break, too. LOL. (Note the use of the light-hearted LOL to create the false impression of friendly banter.) The amount of planning just to get you to Nice requires an outrageous amount of extra planning and effort as well as money. Airlines are very complex businesses and sometime things don’t go to plan.”

Well, you know, despite the fact that the airline gave no warning or information (although knowing of the situation days in advance); despite the fact that they failed to stock up on food for passengers who were going to miss meals and be stuck on an aircraft for hours; despite failing to even offer water to thirsty and irritable customers; and even despite their deliberately misleading pricing system and confusing website, I wanted to give them due credit, even although it seems to me that the business of an airline is to carry passengers from A to B. So I conceded…

“Credit where it’s due. They did get us to our destination. But a little thoughtfulness might have taken the pain out of it. And I won’t fly with you again for reasons aforementioned.”

But, of course, I knew that Cabinflyer30 would want the last word, and I wasn’t wrong. Back came Jet2′s defender:

“Ok, fair enough. Maybe cancelling may have been better for you? Such a shame.”

So who, I wondered, was Cabinflyer30, exactly. No information given on the profile. However, here are some telling stats. Cabinflyer30 follows 31 people and has 12 followers. He/she/it has made a total of 222 tweets – most of them to me, it seems!

Honestly, how pathetic is that?

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WTF

Yesterday I set off to research the third book in my Lewis trilogy. This entailed a two-leg flight. Toulouse to Edinburgh on Saturday. Overnight at an airport hotel in Edinburgh. Then Edinburgh to Stornoway in the Outer Hebrides today.

So why am I waking up in a hotel in Dunfermline, in Fife, a loooong way from Edinburgh? And why did I not get to my bed till 3am French time?

Well, it turns out that there is a strike of fuelers at Toulouse. Which actually turns out to have been going for a couple of days. But did the airline, Jet 2, tell us about it? No. Nothing on their website, no announcement at the airport. The first we knew that anything was wrong was when a girl arrived at the departures desk at the gate and put up a note on the screen warning that the flight was an hour late.

It was due to take off at 7.25pm. We weren’t aboard an aeroplane until 9pm. Only then did the pilot tell us about the strike and announce that he was going to have to fly to Nice to refuel.

So, after flying an hour in the wrong direction, and spending another hour on the ground perspiring in sweltering heat, we finally took off for Edinburgh, ETA 12.30am (1.30am French time). So did the airline offer a complementary drink, even a glass of water (given that there was no way we were going to get to eat when landing in Edinburgh)? No. They came round with their sales trolley, barely apologising for the fact that they didn’t actually have any of their advertised meals on board. So what was on offer? A packet of crisps (washed down with a miniature bottle of wine) a Twix bar and a horrible, stewed cup of watery coffee. And how much did they charge? £16.

This is the airline that lies to you about the price of your flight to con you into buying a ticket – only for you to discover that you then have to pay for a seat, pay for booking on the internet, pay for using a credit card (although no alternative way of buying is offered), pay to put your bag in the hold. It is the airline that sends bag fascists around the seats at the departure gate to see if you are concealing a handbag – which is NOT allowed.

Remind me NEVER to fly with Jet 2 again.

However, that wasn’t the end of the story.

Finally arriving in Edinburgh just short of 1am, we queued in the cold and dark to wait for the shuttle that would take us the five minutes to our hotel – to be met by a grim-faced receptionist. They had given our room away, and there were no others in the hotel.

“I’ve got a taxi waiting at the door for you,” he said. “It will take you on a very short 20-minute ride to another hotel where I’ve managed to get you a room.”. He stuffed £60 in grubby notes into my hand to pay for the hotel and promised to send a taxi to pick us up and take us back to the airport in the morning.

I resisted the temptation to introduce him to the knuckles of my right hand, and we dragged ourselves off to the taxi, whose driver confessed he had no idea where he was going. But he did confide with a giggle, “That guy in there was brickin’ it!”

The short 20-minute ride turned into a 40-minute, £40 marathon in the dark, across the Forth road bridge into deepest, darkest Fife. Which is how I come to be waking up (after 5 hours’ sleep) in a hotel in Dunfermline.

I hardly dare wonder what today holds in store.

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Prix Cézam

I leave tomorrow morning on a seven-day trip to the north-west of France, which may determine the future of my career.

My book “The Blackhouse”, published in French as “L’île des chasseurs d’oiseaux” (The Island of the Bird Hunters), has been shortlisted for a very prestigious French literary award, the Prix Litteraire Cézam – one of ten novels selected from around Europe.

http://www.cezam.fr/?mode=prix_litteraire

I am going to talk to just some of the 4000 readers from around France who will read and vote on the books.  My first stop is a prison in Angers – yes, prisoners, too, get a voice in the decision-making process.

I will be speaking at 12 events in five days – a gruelling schedule, followed in May by a trip to south-east France, and in June to Paris, and a meeting with the other nominated writers.

The results of the vote will be returned for counting in September, and the winner announced at a glitzy event in Strasbourg in October.  In addition to the overall winner, each one of the twenty-two regions participating get the chance to vote for their own favourite.

Winner takes all – along with a massive boost to book sales.

Whether, in the end, it is my book or someone else’s which wins, remains to be seen.  But tomorrow I take the first step on that road to Strasbourg full of hope – that my French will be up to it!

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A Right Royal $&*@-Up

I make my living by licensing publishers to print and make available to the public my coyrighted material.  In return, I get a percentage of the retail price of the book – eight or ten percent.  It’s called a royalty payment.  As a writer I am only able to pay my bills as a result of receiving royalty payments.

So, naturally, I am in favour of the principle of royalties.

But the royalties field is a very uneven one, and if someone chooses to steal my work and sell it without paying me my due, in truth there is very little I can do about it.  And in this electronic age, pirates are plundering my assets left, right and centre.

Take Google, for example – those enlightened schoolboys who were going to change the world for the better.  They just stole almost everything I ever wrote and made it available to anyone on the internet for nothing.  Just copied it and put it up there.

And what can I do about it?  Sweet FA.

Of course, they face a class action from any number of writers who have suffered the same fate.  But that action is being led by a small, unrepresentative group who are advocating a settlement that will cost Google a lot of money, and if I’m lucky put 50 dollars in my pocket.  Big deal!

Now here’s the irony.

As someone who believes in paying due royalties, I went in search of the owners of the lyrics of the Elvis Presley song, “Heartbreak Hotel”, because I wanted to include four lines from the song in my follow-up to “The Blackhouse”, which is called “The Lewis Man”.

After a lengthy process of tracking down the company which licenses reprint permission, I was told that those four lines were going to cost me a sum of money which would, eventually, run to thousands – to cover all the international and paperback editions of the book.

Crazy, isn’t it?  Four lines from the lyrics of a song which are all over the internet.  Four lines from a song written more than fifty years ago, whose writers are both dead (and don’t need my royalty payments to pay their bills).  Four lines from a song which, had I paid for them, would promptly have been stolen by Google (and God knows who else) and made available to anyone who cared to download them.

So what did I do?  Well, I cut the four lines, of course.  It doesn’t make that much difference to the book, though of course it lost a little of its colour.

Madness or what?

 

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First Feedback

I thought it might be interesting to publish a selection of excerpts from the emails that have come flooding into my website since the publication of “The Blackhouse”.  So here goes…

My partner has just read The Blackhouse – she tells me it is the best book she has read for a long time!  My turn next! (AS)

and later…

I have just started the book – not sure if I can put it down though!!! (AS)

I’ve just finished reading The Blackhouse and I thought I’d like to send you my compliments on what I think is your finest work to date (and that’s saying something given the quality of your previous works!!). The book is completely compelling and the plot held me totally from the first page to the last… (PM) – no, it’s not me!

and this from a 15-year-old girl…

Four days ago on a shopping trip I spontaneously purchased ‘The Blackhouse’ by Peter May. I finished the book approximately 2 hours ago. I would like to congratulate you on a captivating novel.  I thought the book was incredibly unique, probably because of the detail and passion you expressed towards the Scottish traditions and cultures in the book…  To conclude, I would like to say that I think your writing style is very special and that I thoroughly relished every page of your book. (AD)

I am an avid reader and have just finished reading The Blackhouse. Truly one of the best books I have ever read. (LR)

I’d just like to tell you how much I enjoyed “The Blackhouse”. I’m from Greenock and live in Derbyshire now, so the Outer Hebrides might as well be on the moon, but the book brought Lewis to life in what felt like a very heartfelt novel…. A terrific and affecting read. (DP)

What a great, great book.  On the one hand I didn’t want to put it down, on the other hand I didn’t want to finish it, because I didn’t want the reading of it to come to an end… best thing I’ve read in a very long time. (DM)

this one cracked me up…

I would like to say that this is the first book of yours I have  read (The Blackhouse).  I wish I had read your other books, now I will… I could not put it down. I read the book instead of looking at the Welsh Rugby team playing England.  My wife could not believe it that I read a book instead of looking at the rugby match on TV (I am a Welsh man)! (KO)

and this I take as the greatest compliment of all, coming from the man who leads the real guga hunters out to a storm-lashed rock (Sulasgeir) in the North Atlantic every August…

Hi Pete, just to let you know how much the Sulasgeir crew liked The Blackhouse. I just could not put it down, reading till 1 am. every morning. I was knackered.  Thank God I finished it.  All the best from the Sulasgeir crew. (JDM)

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