Yes … a novel. My novel. The Murk Beneath. 89,000 words of gritty (literary) crime noir, set in my native Cork. First in the Mickey Bosco series. It’s strange to write that. Me, an author … a novelist. But it’s true. And one way or another, The Murk Beneath will see the light of day, at the very least finding its way onto Amazon.com, and ideally in a few bookshops around Cork and beyond.
I find myself impatient. This project began in late 2009 when I started a masters in creative writing at University of Edinburgh. I wrote a few bits and pieces, almost throwaway pages of ramblings. Then, somewhere amongst so much detritus, Mickey Bosco was born. Funny that a character that is so ingrained in Cork culture has his beginnings in Edinburgh, itself famous for some of the greatest characters in crime writing, Rebus and Sherlock, for instance.
I was preparing some sample writing for review by one of the creative writing lecturers, Robert Alan Jamieson. There was a range of fiction excerpts in that portfolio. Mickey Bosco was in there, though I don’t think I had named him at that point. There was some American police procedural stuff and an “out there” short horror story in there too. The Mickey Bosco excerpt is what Jamieson zoned in on and the rest is history. I wrote 10,000 words containing the start of what would become The Murk Beneath and submitted it as my assessable Christmas portfolio. I followed this up in the second semester with the next 10,000 words. For my creative dissertation over the summer, I decided initially to write something else, but soon returned to Mickey, though in a different novel, one that may never see the light of day, though I scavenged some of the better sections from that 20,000 words and they found themselves in The Murk Beneath. Over the following months, the word count reached 40,000. Then I gave up. I did almost nothing on the novel for more than 3 years. My confidence in my ability to finish a novel had taken a knock.
Then last summer, I had a revelation. One way or another I didn’t want to leave this Earth without having completed a novel. In the space of a very short few weeks, I wrote another 50,000 words and wrote the final, cathartic line of the novel on 22nd August 2014. I actually wrote the last 40,000 words in just 3 1/2 weeks.
Back to my impatience … I want to see my book in print. I sent a sample to an agent in July 2014 (I know … I had not actually finished by then, but it may have spurred me on) and was supposed to hear back in 90 days. I heard nothing. I sat on the novel for another few months, barely tinkering with it. Again, confidence a little low wondering if the novel was fit for publication.
Impatience pushed me to get the damed thing out in the world. Just over a week ago, I resolved to self-publish if I heard nothing back from two final queries – one to an agent, the other direct to a publisher. So, in two months if I hear nothing or get rejections, I will proceed with self-publication under my own imprint, Whitegate Press. If I have to, I will spend the time over the summer promoting the hell out of it, getting myself on radio, convincing local bookshops that it is worthy of their precious shelf space. I have the tools – InDesign, Photoshop, etc., and I have spent a lot of time researching print-on-demand. I have a professional-looking inside of the novel in 5.5″ x 8.5″ trade paperback novel format. All I need to do is order a batch of ISBN numbers and design the cover and I’ll be ready to roll. Unless I hear back from my queries …
I’m happy now with the book. I like it. I actually enjoy reading it. I think others will like reading it too, though who knows if it will be to everyone’s taste. At this stage, it is the novel I have had the most repeated reads of. I’m sure at some point I’ll get sick of reading it, but I’m not there yet. I still find the occasional sentence to rephrase, or whatever, but once the time comes, I’ll have to let go, finally.