On the merry-go-round of the life of an unknown author. A book launch last year bought in about thirty or forty people whereas an author talk in the local library last weekend resulted in just four people attending.
Similarly, the local library want to stock my second novel EggHead, but WH Smith has removed my debut novel Secrets from their website.
A mixture of good and bad then.
I’m working on a third novel, Silent, a psychological thriller aimed at teenagers and young adults. In the story, talented musician Gavin goes on a Summer School up north after getting into trouble back in his native London. But during the week at the school, he finds himself in further trouble…
A brief sample:
Behind us, the first clouds of smoke are forming, the flames crackling in the distance and dancing up walls, the pungent smell of burning beginning to starve the air of oxygen. Somewhere in the building, a miniature explosion sounds, followed by another. A third explosion sounds somewhere in the building, even louder than the last one. I consider ducking, but Jace shakes his head. ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ he says, panting. ‘Before the roof caves in.’