Westminister's disgrace

Originally, I was going to write a festive music blog but events last week made me so angry that I decided to write the kind of post I don’t usually write.

At this time of year it is traditional to think of others and show the positive side of the human spirit. Those thoughts don't seem to pass through the heads of some in the House of Commons, where certain elected Members of Parliament think it’s appropriate to laugh at those in need who are struggling to feed their families.

In a place that has had more lows recently than a Caribbean limbo dancer, the behaviour hit a deep trough during last Wednesday’s debate on the surge in food bank use in the UK. There are those on the government benches who think it is funny that families are so desperate for cheap food that people are arguing in their supermarket for the end of day bargains. As they tuck into their huge Christmas dinners on Wednesday, will these so-called Parliamentarians give a passing thought to the ever-increasing number of poor in this country? While they slosh another brandy down their greedy throats will they care that more working families are trapped in an ever-tightening grip of misery and despair? The sad thing is that some of the hypocrites will precede their meal with grace, maybe even said by their local vicar. Then they will tuck into a huge feast and tell the story of these unfortunate families as an amusing anecdote to their equally out of touch banker friends.

My disgust at this has nothing to do with politics, this is about humanity. This is about expecting those who have been elected to serve to behave like decent human beings, empathising with the plight of their constituents and other people across the country. Unfortunately it seems that decency is in short supply in Westminster and the very respect for each other that marks the character of the British people is being undermined by those who represent no one bar themselves; people who see being a Member of Parliament as nothing more than a stepping stone to highly-paid seats on any number of company boards. Those who laughed should be named, shamed and prevented from ever standing for election again as being unfit to serve. It's the very least punishment they deserve.

Sorry for a negative blog but I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and that you will have a small thought for those less fortunate than yourself this festive season.

The ever-changing face of book covers - Part 1

During our Indie Authors Scotland ‘How To Self Publish’ courses we stress the importance of cover design and how it influences a potential reader's perception of a book.

One of the areas we consider is making both the typeface and the image relevant to the setting of the book. However, a cover is not only a reflection of its contents, it is also a reflection of the time it was created.

Over this post and next week's Friday post I am going to look at the evolution of cover layout over the past 75 years by showing you a variety of designs from different eras. The book I have chosen is one I know very well and is the perfect example of how a book cover evolves to suit contemporary tastes.

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler was first published in 1939 and is firmly rooted in that period. So how has the look of its cover changed to stay true to the original story while reflecting the changes in taste?

1930’s/40’s

The book is a re-working of a number of short stories first published in ‘The Black Mask’ magazine. That publication fitted into the category of’ Pulp Fiction’: cheap and often shocking fiction designed for the mass market.  This cover reflects that heritage perfectly with the shocking sight of a man in the bedroom of a naked woman who wasn’t his wife, who is the image of a femme fatale as she protects her dignity with a gun. It would have been enough to titillate and thrill potential readers who would have immediately understood that there was a mix of sex and violence within the pages.

1950’s

This cover I believe is from the fifties or early sixties. The colours and fonts hint at that time frame. The image combines details from various points in the story to great effect and is quite striking. The use of the skull is an obvious icon of death and the orchids hint at the fragile beauty of Carmen Sternwood, the woman who is being blackmailed in the book. It also indicates the scene in the Sternwood's greenhouse where Marlowe is persuaded by Carmen's father to take the case. The cover is playing a key role in attracting the reader while staying true to the trends in design at the time it was created.

1960’s/70’s

The art and music of the late sixties and early seventies became more avant garde, books and films were more violent and these covers show those influences on cover design. The green cover has a illustration of a man who wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Spaghetti Western rather than showing the urbane, witty private eye that is Philip Marlowe. The other two designs are so abstract they could just as easily have been books on philosophy or art theory rather than a crime novel. No attempt has been made to communicate the contents of the book to the reader, it seems like the designer has replaced the writer as the most important contributor to the book - Chandler's name doesn't even appear on the bottom two. This is all to the detriment of using the cover to start to tell a story. Personally, I really don't like these covers and they would not have inspired me to buy these books at the time.

Next week I will have a look at how modern designers are taking on the challenge of producing something fresh and original that reflects both the story of the novel and contemporary trends in cover design.

You can learn more about our Cover Design training course at Indie Authors Scotland.

Yesterday's heroes?

As some of you may know, my passion for crime novels was forged in my teens when I was introduced to the American hard-boiled detectives. The writing of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett and Ross MacDonald evoked a world of tough but honest men, the dialogue was filled with sharp barbs and the descriptions were poetic, at times brutal and at others laugh-out-loud funny. It was the underbelly of the golden age of Hollywood written with style and humour.

As time has passed my love of these books has not diminished but I do wonder if they are still relevant to 21st Century audiences. The violence that so shocked original readers of these novels has been replaced with the graphic descriptions of murder scenes in books by authors like Chris Carter and Tess Gerritsen. Modern crime writing is much more visceral, more direct and I wonder if contemporary readers would see these books I love so much as being rather tame and pedestrian.

The cosy crime of Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers and their modern counterparts have their fans and are still riding high in the sales charts. Sherlock Holmes is as popular as ever as he is re-invented and repackaged in print and on TV but have my favourites been reduced to bit-part players, yesterday's heroes. Are Marlowe and Archer now like the striker who has lost his touch in front of goal or the pitcher whose arm has gone? I hope that is not the case, I hope they are still entertaining and inspiring readers and that they remain relevant. I believe that’s what their fabulous writers deserve but I'm not sure it is true.

Is there anybody out there who has read any of these books recently and would like to offer their thoughts?

Grasping the thistle

Baring their soul in the form of writing and then publishing a book is something that leaves many people paralysed by fear. Many of the writers we have encountered at Indie Authors Scotland have a certain reluctance to take that next step and publish their book. However, that's not how it needs to be and now is as good a time as any to do something about it.

I think there are two reasons that people hesitate to grasp the thistle and publish work that may have taken them many years to write. The first is a search for perfection, the never-ending quest to ensure that every word, sentence and punctuation mark is unquestionably correct. In a recent interview on the BBC, Ian Rankin claimed that he had often had the perfect idea but had never written the perfect book. The reason for that is there is no such thing, even for someone as skilled and successful as my fellow countryman. A writer’s harshest critic is him/herself and as a result any book one writes will never be perfect. If you have spent a large chunk of your life writing your novel there comes a point where you have to say to yourself ‘I have written the best book I can and it’s time to let the world read it.'

The second reason that people hesitate to unleash their work on readers is they are scared of peer review. The simple truth is that there has never been a book that everyone on the planet loves. People have different tastes and therefore what is a thrilling story to one person can be judged a complete bore by another. It’s what makes reading such a pleasure; that every person reads their own version of a book. During our training we try to emphasise the idea that if someone doesn’t like your book it’s not the end of the world. Human beings have a tendency to see the negatives, so someone who has had a number of good reviews will be devastated by and fret about the first bad one. People who can’t write a constructive criticism are simply not worth giving the time of day to. (I don’t understand the need to slate someone, particularly if you have paid less than a price of a cup of coffee for the book.) You can learn from thoughtful comments, as I have done from the people who make good observations in my reviews but I ignore those from people whose only purpose in life is to be as negative as possible. If every review you get is one star then maybe writing isn’t for you but almost everyone who has a passion for writing will find people who like what they do. Write for them and you will enjoy your writing and publishing experience.

If you have a finished manuscript or you are getting close to finishing, come over to the Indie Authors Scotland website and learn more about your options. It’s time to throw off your fears and grasp the thistle.

Return of the Mac

After a period of relative inactivity, I'm back with a new look and a new name for the blog. As much as The Reluctant Detective is a recognisable name, it no longer reflects my book output or what I'm doing beyond writing. Craig has been joined by Russell and Menzies, while I have become a trainer for fellow authors.

Due to other commitments I haven't written much of anything for the past few months and it's something I'm desperate to get back into the swing of. So I will be combining writing new books, engaging on social media and teaching authors how to self publish.
Another reason that my writing has stalled is that I've been busy with redesigning and reorganising some websites. To keep things consistent, I have renamed my website to sinclairmacleod.com and its had a fresh coat of paint. I have also been laying out a new look for indieauthorsscotland.co.uk  to reflect our new online training courses. If you have an interest in self publishing, even if you have already published your book(s), there is a lot that you can learn.
In the near future we hope to include a membership option for Indie Authors that will offer support, tips and further training, all as part of a community of writers. Early in 2014 I hope to launch a magazine for iPads and iPhones to promote the best of independent writing with interviews, extracts, short stories and writer profiles.
This blog will feature all of the above plus music and personal observations. I hope you will join me on the latest part of my journey.

Happy Birthday, Mum

This Sunday, 30th June, would have been my mum’s 77th birthday.

Mum and Dad on their Silver Wedding Anniversary
It would have been their  Golden Anniversary this September.

To celebrate that day I’m releasing my sixth book ‘Inheritance’ with my first online book launch. Mum was the person who inspired my love of books by taking me to our local library when I was very young. We would go every three weeks and it was one of the highlights of my young life and gave me a passion that stayed with me my whole life.

Most people will tell you how wonderful their mother is; the positive effect that she had on their lives and the love they receive from her. I am no exception but it wasn’t just my brother, sister and I who thought she was amazing; no one had a bad word to say about her. My mum was a warm, giving, kind and understanding person who welcomed everyone into our home. There was always cake and biscuits in the cupboard, just in case someone might visit. She loved to banter with our friends, the cheekier they were the more she liked them.

She loved to laugh, sometimes to the point it was injurious to her health. One New Year, just after Calum was born, the family gathered at Mum and Dad’s house. We decided to mark the moment with a photograph of everyone using the timer function on the camera. The first couple of attempts didn’t go too well as I couldn’t get into position before the shutter clicked. Mum began to laugh and with every subsequent attempt she was laughing so hard that her eyes were closed and we had to try again. Her laugh was infectious and before long we were all giggling. Mum laughed so hard and so long it brought on an Asthma attack and we needed to give her inhalers in between the guffaws. We never did get the perfect picture.

As I mentioned she was a very friendly person, at least until her brood were threatened in any way, then she was a tiger. One Saturday, when I was seventeen, I had arranged to meet her to help her with the shopping. I was sitting outside the shop when two men approached me. They were police officers and I was taken across the street to the local station. They proceeded to question me about a mugging that had taken place the previous afternoon as I was wearing a similar jacket to the suspect. I knew I had done nothing wrong and as I had been sitting in school at the time of the crime with the Deputy Head Teacher, the Principal Guidance Teacher and the Head of Drama, I knew I had a pretty strong alibi. The cops soon realised that they had made a mistake and I was set free without an apology. By this time I was late for my meeting with Mum and she was worried. (These were the ancient days before mobile phones.) When she discovered what had happened, it was all I could do to stop her crossing the road and giving every police officer in that station a piece of her mind. She was so angry that she might have ended up in jail herself.

A speeding driver killed mum outside her house on 11th November 1995 when she was just 59 years old. It happened eleven months after the birth of her first grandchild Calum and six weeks after the birth of my niece Morven. She didn’t ever see my daughter Kirsten or my two other nieces Isla and Emma. The hardest thing to accept about her death is that the kids didn’t get a chance to know a grannie who would have doted on each of them, probably taking their side in every debate with their parents and spoiling them rotten.

After she was killed, we had five years of legal wrangling that meant it was difficult to put her death from our minds and celebrate her life.

But this Sunday I will celebrate that wonderful life of love, kindness and warmth. I will remember her laugh, her support and encouragement. Happy Birthday, Mum. x