I’m writing this on a train from Devon to Edinburgh – eight hours (assuming no delays) of rolling through the frosty British countryside. While this might seem an unpleasantly long journey, it provides a rare stretch of uninterrupted time. I plan to spend it writing, although I reserve the right to stare out of the window, fall asleep, then wake up to find my head resting on a stranger’s shoulder. Polite British awkwardness will almost certainly ensue.

But first, the writing. As I mentioned in my first newsletter, I published a book about local journalism last year. Before that, though, I had already written two-and-a-half novels, plus fragments of several more (who says creative people are disorganised?). The journalism book taught me the basics of the publishing process, blazing a trail for the novels to follow. So, what are these novels?

Well, the first one I wrote is… um… awful. The thought process was: “I bet I can write a novel”. On the plus side, I did write it. Well done me. It’s about a police officer who solves a crime that no one of his low rank would ever be responsible for investigating. It veers wildly from comedy to drama, thriller to love story. Maybe one day I’ll demolish and rebuild it. For now, it can stay in a dusty filing cabinet.

The next novel, also complete, is about to get a thorough (and, I hope, final) edit. Maybe I’ll sail through the opening chapters before this train reaches the Scottish border. It’s appropriate that I’m on a train, in fact, because I wrote the first draft on my phone while crammed into crowded trains during my London commuter days. The book is set in 1891 in Devon, where I live now, and tells the story of a young couple who are forced to enter a workhouse. The working title is The Wolf of Wistman’s Wood – referring to a small (possibly haunted) forest of stunted oak trees near Dartmoor Prison. Assuming all goes to plan, the book will be published this summer.

The half-finished third novel is based on the true story of a ship that was sent to Antarctica in support of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s famous Endurance expedition. I stopped writing that to focus on the journalism book, but I plan to pick it up soon – and perhaps get the first draft done by the end of the year.

Are all these deadlines a good idea? Probably not. But even a delayed train reaches its destination in the end, right?

Comfort Fiction

This month’s snippet of Comfort Fiction comes from A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. The book is about a Russian aristocrat, Count Alexander Rostov, who retains his optimism and composure despite being imprisoned in a hotel in Bolshevik Russia. Alexander has some wonderful views on life, including the following – which (to me) is a calming reminder not to prioritise the urgent over the important:

For his part, the count had opted for the life of the purposefully unrushed. Not only was he disinclined to race toward some appointed hour – disdaining even to wear a watch – he took the greatest satisfaction when assuring a friend that a worldly matter could wait in favour of a leisurely lunch or stroll along the embankment… When all was said and done, the endeavours that most modern men saw as urgent (such as appointments with bankers and the catching of trains), probably could have waited, while those they deemed frivolous (such as cups of tea and friendly chats) had deserved their immediate attention.

Dicing with Death

This month is definitely spring in the world of Dice Company, the podcast where I play Augustus Zeno (and various other characters). After a winter break, we have just begun recording new episodes of our main story: Small Embers. It’s utterly wonderful to be back at the (virtual) table with Tom, Dave, Harry and Charlie.

While Tom works his editing magic on this new material, our podcast feed is publishing two mini-series we recorded before Christmas. We recently put out the last episode of our six-part Warhammer story, masterfully created and run by Harry. Today, we’ve released part one of Mothership – in which three feckless adventurers explore a derelict spaceship in a dystopian future dreamed up by Charlie’s maniacal and brilliant brain. If you haven’t listened to the show before, this would be a great place to start.

This newsletter terminates here. I promised it would be shorter than the last one and – in the best traditions of public transport – I’ve failed to keep that promise. Time for a nap.