The novel is finished. It has been written, rewritten, agonised over, edited, re-edited and now – finally – it’s ready. As someone (possibly Ernest Hemmingway) said: “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

I’ve bled enough over this one. I finished the first draft a decade ago, in what now feels like a different life. Back then, I travelled to work on London commuter trains. These were usually crowded. I rarely got a seat, so writing on a laptop was impossible. Instead, I wrote on my phone.

I remember stepping off the train at Vauxhall station, having typed the final full stop. Done, I thought. Well, that proved optimistic. I haven’t been idle in the intervening ten years – child-rearing, working, volunteering, podcasting, occasionally sleeping – and the book has changed drastically since that first draft.

The major rewrite came after brilliant feedback from Cornerstones (I paid for help from one of their professional editors). After that, I spent far too long tinkering, and another age on the final edit.

Now I can finally move on to fun stuff like commissioning a cover. In fact, I’ve already done that – using the same freelancer who designed the cover of There’s Someone in Reception. In next month’s newsletter, you’ll be the very first people to see the cover of the Wolf of Wistman’s Wood.

I’m also working on formatting the pages, getting the audiobook recorded and setting the publication date. And my rebellious brain is already prodding me to think about the next novel – which will NOT take over a decade to complete.

Regarding the Long Walk announced in last month’s newsletter, I haven’t walked a step since the 2.49 miles covered in my first stroll. This might seem a worryingly slow start, but I believe I’ve demonstrated both tortoise-like pace and determination. Grand plans always look impossible at the outset but – as my novel-writing journey proves – if you keep plodding uphill, eventually you’ll reach the mountaintop.

Comfort Fiction

Publishing my novel is a scary moment. The first one-star review will probably upset and/or annoy me, even though I know no book pleases every reader. And what if hardly anyone reviews, reads or even buys it? Well, the only way to avoid these perils would be not to publish – and that seems far worse.

I’m currently reading The Will of the Many, an epic fantasy novel by James Islington. In it, the main character recalls something his father told him before a nerve-wracking experience:

“You should be glad you’re nervous… Nervousness means there’s a fear to be faced ahead… The man who is never nervous, never grows.” He stroked my hair. “Do all you can to think of it as an opportunity. A blessing. No matter how it makes you feel in here.” His hand pressed lightly against my chest, covering it.

Dicing with Death

Being part of the Dice Company podcast continues to be a blessing – and sharing the ups and downs with four friends makes the whole experience less scary that publishing books.

But we each have certain roles to play – both in the show and behind the scenes. My day job in communications and my book-writing exploits mean I’ve inherited most of the outreach/promotion work. I run Dice Company’s Bluesky, make videos for YouTube and TikTok, and write the weekly newsletter (recently rebranded as “Hogmail”). Hard work, but each challenge – promoting books and the podcast – has taught me useful lessons for the other.

On the podcast itself, we’ve tried a lot of new game systems in recent weeks (taking a break from our main Small Embers campaign, which is made using Dungeons and Dragons). I’ve played a jaded pub brawler in Mothership, a dim-witted giant (the dim-wittedness came from me, not the giant) in Daggerheart, and a Scottish sword master in a game designed by our very own Harry King.

Main takeaways: I’ve run out of funny voices/accents and my throat hurts. I’m happy to be returning to playing the soft-spoken Seeksorrow for the next few weeks.

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