My latest book, New York Deep, has now been published. You can get it on Amazon here.

Thank you all for getting involved and helping me produce this work. I hope you all enjoy it!

If you can get your friends and family to purchase and review it too, that would be amazing. The better it performs, the sooner I can write more books!

Fingers crossed!

Andrew

That’s the title of my next book. New York Deep. It’s about a tunnel engineer called Josh Reed, who discovers a mysterious room beneath Central Park during the excavation of the East Side Access extension tunnels. The CIA get involved, there’s a whole conspiracy—it’s pretty cool. At least I think so anyway!

It’s launching on the 16th of December, and it’ll look like this:

But you guys don’t have to wait that long, because I want to extend an invitation to get hold of a free advanced reader copy so you can tell me what you think of it before anyone else. That’ll be available on the 10th, so if you’d like a free advanced copy to review on Amazon.com, drop me a message at thisisandrewmorgan@gmail.com or on the contact link top right and I’ll make sure you get one.

I hope you’re all as excited for it as I am!

The countdown begins!

Andrew

As I type, I sit in wait of my agent’s opinion of my latest novel. I never realised it was possible to feel sick and excited at the same time before, especially not for this kind of duration. Occasionally I forget, but not for long, and the spike of adrena-nausea that follows is more than enough to make up for that brief respite.

What’s it about then? Can’t tell you for now. I want to. I want to post chapters and stuff like that, but if I do, I might as well put a bell around its neck and get it to yell, ‘Leper!’

You see, this is the first book that I’m seriously hoping to put in front of a publisher, and they—understandably—will want to have exclusivity. It’s a shame, because I’ve enjoyed sharing the progress of my works with you all before, but such is the way these things go. As the release gets closer—published or self-published—I’ll begin to share, and for those of you subscribed, I’ll be issuing free advanced reader copies to gather some opinions, but until then, it remains a secret.

Maybe that’ll build some anticipation, maybe it’ll just annoy you. Who knows. I certainly don’t! What I do know is, and this is all I can share for now, is that the book is set in New York and was a real melon-scratcher to write.

I’ll keep you all posted.

I hope you’re all enjoying New Dawn. I’d love to know what you think of it, good or bad. I rely on feedback from people like you to improve, so anything you can share would be massively appreciated.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Andrew

The following may come across as a little bit whiney, but I thought it might be an interesting insight into the mind of a writer. How does it feel to launch a book? Wait for reviews? Receive them? I’ll try and explain.

Over a year ago, I started writing New Dawn. I took time every weekend, about 5–10 hours, to sit down and write. Sometimes, especially towards the end, I’d write or edit in the evening after work. I’d say it was a labour of love, but it’s not really a labour at all. All that stuff, that year-plus of writing and editing—that’s the fun bit. The torment really starts when you click ‘Publish’.

I don’t get sick on rollercoasters, or planes, or boats. The first night after publishing New Dawn, I was as sick as a dog. I didn’t feel wound up or stressed or anything, just sick. A bug, perhaps? Nope—same thing happened with my previous books. Imagine packing a year’s worth of what makes you you into a .mobi document 3.5mb in size—it’s like a digital rendition of your soul, bits and bytes made up of everything from your happiest thoughts to your darkest desires—and then slapping it on the internet and saying, ‘Take your best shot, world!’

And they do. Every writer has had their fair share of negative reviews. But there are negative, and there are negative. The ones that reach into your chest cavity and tear out your heart, bloody and pumping. The ones that make you question your entire existence as a writer. They’re coming; all you can do is sit and wait.

These reviews aren’t necessarily written with a spiteful heart; in fact, more often than not,  they’re completely fair and innocent. A person is allowed to not like a book. But it’s not just a book—it’s you, and so those comments hit hard.

I’ve read every single review I’ve ever received, and my heart still skips a beat when I refresh the page and see that the number has gone up. Is it good? They probably give every book they read five stars. Is it bad? They hate me.

That’s the curse of being a writer. Positive comments glance off you like light from a mirror; you barely even notice them. The negative ones slice right through, radiation of a different, more deadly sort. I’m not alone in feeling like this, and writing isn’t the only creative profession that inflicts this kind emotional merry-go-round on its participants, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. It’s all highs and lows, and the actual writing serves as a useful distraction.

Well, that’s all. Sorry it was a bit whiney. Anyway, I’ve got to go and check my ratings. Pass me the sick bowl, please…

With New Dawn doing its thing, it’s time to turn my attention to what’s next. For every book I’ve written so far, I’ve set myself a goal for improvement over the previous: with Noah’s Ark it was simply to write a whole book; with Vessel, it was to try and improve on scene setting and description; New Dawn was all about character building. Although far from perfect, I feel I’ve achieved—at the very least—an improvement in those areas, but there’s been one aspect that’s plagued my development up to now, and that’s that I’ve been flying blind.

Having an experienced and knowledgable tutor, in comparison to self-learning, is so much better it’s almost incomparable. Having someone to guide you, to tell you when you’re doing the right thing or not, to point out what needs to be improved and what’s working well—it’s amazing. The speed of learning goes into hyperdrive, and gone(ish) are the pitfalls of self doubt and worry.

As I mentioned last week, I’ve been taken on by an agent. He’s given me a lot of feedback on my previous work, and given me guidance for what I need to work on going forward, and that leads me to the title of this week’s post: Save the Cat!

Save the Cat! is a screenwriting book that my agent (saying that never gets old!) has recommended to me to develop the next part of my writer’s repertoire: plot. I was already aware that a story is broken down into three acts, had a vague idea of certain ‘things’ that tended to happen at different points, but it was all guesswork really. So I was asked to read Save the Cat!

Save the Cat! dismantles every Hollywood blockbuster and indie cult classic into 15 separate sections, called beats. It’s as simple as that. It’s easy to dismiss the idea as being restrictive, smothering creativity or whatever, but that’s far from the truth. Every good story follows these beats; it’s what we’re used to, what we’ve come to expect. And that’s what I need to learn next.

It’s a really interesting book actually, with lots of great examples of how the process has been used across all sorts of famous films, with little nuggets that make you raise an eyebrow and say ‘huh’. One particular example is this: Disney Pixar’s Monster’s Inc. and Warner Bros’ The Matrix are the same film on paper. Don’t believe me? Then read the following sentence, and tell me which film I’m talking about: XXX is a film about an alternate reality where humans are harvested for energy. See? Weird, no?

With little party tricks like that aside, the book clearly and cleverly breaks down not only the key turning points in a good story’s journey, but also the subtleties that endear us to the protagonist, that make us hate the antagonist, and that keep us on the edges of our seats. If you’re a writer, it’s a must read—if you’re a general book/movie buff, it’s a fine insight into what makes the best films tick.

With all that knowledge absorbed, I’m now working my way through the ‘beat sheet’ on an idea for my next book. Hopefully it’ll be the best yet!

While it’s a little too early to tell whether or not New Dawn is made of the right stuff, I would still like to thank you all for grabbing a copy—I hope it’s been worth the wait.

I’ve had a couple of positive reviews in so far (fingers crossed they stay positive!), so things are tentatively looking good. With promos dotted about over the next few weeks, I’m itching to see whether or not the book takes. Every review helps, so if you’ve left one or are planning to leave one, thank you for that as well.

Anyway, I have an announcement to make: I’ve got an agent! He’s a really great guy, and he’ll be working with me on my next project—more about that in the next few weeks—and I’m very excited about it. What does that mean for you? Hopefully, better books. And I know I keep saying it, but I want to say it again: thank you to all of you for your support over the years—I wouldn’t have got this far without it.

Vessel is due out tomorrow, so make sure you’ve got your 99p/99c ready and waiting. I’m going to go back to running around in circles now—bye!

Argh! Vessel is out in a week and I don’t know what to think. On the one hand, I’m a marching band of jitterbugs on a trampoline in an earthquake, buzzing with more excitement than the queue at Peppa Pig World, and on the other hand I’d rather scrap the whole thing and pretend it never happened. P-day is incoming and, to be frank, I’m bricking it.

If you’ve never had the opportunity to publish work of your own, I’ll try and lay down how I feel right now about it all. This isn’t a ‘woe is me’ type of story; I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me. I’m simply trying to pass each agonising second between now and August the 1st. Writing a book is a journey and a half. There are highs and lows, distant horizons and lights at the end of tunnels that turn out to be high-speed locomotives. You lay your soul out on the floor and pick it apart bit by tedious bit. The resulting composition is more than a collection of words for its creator: it’s a piece of them, a chapter of their own lives laid out in paper and ink (or pixels). Each line carries a memory with it, be it pleasure at its inventiveness or shame at the multitude of times it took to get right. Some chapters sat side by side with the death of a loved one, others with the union of two of the living; it’s as much historical non-fiction as it is fiction—you just have to read between the lines to see it.

And now I’m going to take that portion of my life, my personality, my growth and my shame, and lay it out for all to see. Some will smile and clap, others will spit and jeer. Each word is sent on a direct expressway to my heart, fresh and raw and ready to tear me in two. Every review, every rating—or indeed the lack of those things—is a slight against me, against who I am, and I accept that. That doesn’t mean I like it. And to make matters worse, for every negative review I take to heart, there’s a positive one that I simply can’t believe. You know, I’d go so far as to say it’s a traumatic experience.

Well, that’s enough bleeding heart nonsense from me. Vessel is out very, very soon, and I couldn’t be more excited. I hope it lives up to the expectations of all you people who have followed my journey (and thank you for joining me along the way) and those who have yet to become a part of it. The next blog post I write will be on the other side—see you there.