Well, Angels Of The Silences appears to be out and about at last! My author's copies are shipping (not that ships are likely to be involved, unless there's worse flooding in Wales than I thought) from Pendragon Press down in Maesteg, so if you've ordered a copy, you ought to be getting a mailboxful of salty Bestwick goodness this week. Um, that sounded wrong, didn't it? Sorry.
And yes, there's the new novel, currently underway, which is to be published by Solaris Books. The reason the last blog posting was rather bashful about it is very simple- not modesty on my part (stop laughing at the back there) but because, well, embarrassingly...
...I have no idea what it's going to be called.
Which does not mean, for the record, that I'm helplessly waiting for a crowd of marketing bods from the publishers to decide what the title should be based on pie-charts, statistics and god alone knows what else. Thankfully, Solaris don't have much truck with that kind of daftness. They know their business onions, obviously- and thank goodness for that- but first and foremost they're actually interested in books- you know, those papery things what you read.
The problem is I don't have a title, and this is now getting silly.
All I can do at the minute is keep plugging away and hope that something leaps out at me. I suspect when I do find the right title, I'll immediately slap myself on the forehead and wonder how I missed it. Hope so, anyway.
Because, of course, I can't keep the publisher waiting all bloody year to know what they're going to advertise the damned thing as. 'This new book by Simon Bestwick' doesn't exactly trip off the tongue.
Ah well. In a pinch, I can always rename the main character 'Katie' and insist the book's about the emotional cost of her survival in the face of the events that unfold. Then they can call it Katie's Price. If they print the 's' in very, very small font it should shift millions of copies.
2 comments:
Katie's Price = Genius. Heck, she'll probably think she wrote it and promote it for you.
I shall go perch on a stool by my letterbox (or maybe I'll chase the postman again).
Cate- :D That's the kind of brainwave that gives editors the cold sweats...
Alternatively, given that the ghosts of dead soldiers play a part in it, I could call it 'Twilight Army'... again, with the second word printed, very, very small...
Have fun at the letterbox, but be careful- hasn't your postman taken out a restraining order against you?
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