Writing! Huh! What is it good for?

Welcome to the first of what is planned to be a fortnightly delve into whatever random things are going on in my mind relating to books, films, writing, culture and the world at large.

"But what is the purpose of this text-based venture?" I hear almost no one shout.

Well, I wrote a book! You probably realised that if you've got to this page because I've plastered said book all over the rest of this site in the hope that you might, you know, buy it. 

Apparently, if you've written a book, and created a website (a whole other headache for someone who struggles to put his 'out of office' on), what you also need is a blog. But, as a blogging virgin, I wondered what I should write about in this first post.

Should I simply tell you about the book? Maybe, but having written about advertising and marketing for a long time, I know that, really, no one wants to be advertised to. Should I tell you a bit about me? God, it would be like being stuck with that person at a party who only wants to wang on about themself... I'm hoping you'll actually read this, so I'll spare you that approach.

So, what to write about?

Well, I'm a journalist (bit about me there. Wait! Come back!), so surely writing should come fairly easily, right? But, as a journalist, you're told what to write; whether it's a profile of a person, a dive into a particular topic, or the announcement of a new initiative, you have the seeds of your story already sewn. Without that, it's back to the fear of the blank page, which is, coincidentally, where I started on the path to writing Dark Waters.

So, I thought I'd start there... what compels someone to write a book, and is it worth it? 

My guess is that, if you're on this page, and have visited this site, then you're either a fan of writing, a champion of reading, or quite possibly both. Maybe you've written a book already – maybe more than one – or maybe you've read so many books you think you could knock one out yourself. Well, you can, no doubt, but it's tough. Or, at least, I found it tough. So, why do it?

I'm sure there are lots of reasons, and I can only tell you why I did it but, essentially, it was to test myself. I've always loved reading, and had promised myself, over the course of many years, that I would write a book. And writing is what I do for a living, and when I'm not bogged down in the other admin parts of the job, it's the element I most enjoy.

I'd started writing what I thought of as 'my opus' many times;

One chapter... then nowhere.

A couple of chapters... a dead end.

20,000 words... an idea cul-de-sac.

Then, over the course of a year, when my second son was tiny and I'd taken some paternity leave, I finished a book. In between play groups and sensory sessions and monumental nappy changes, I bashed out 90,000 words of a gritty crime book that – you know what – was ok. Not brilliant, but not terrible.

But 'ok' isn't enough, is it? Think of how many books there are in the world. How many titles are lined up on the shelves of your local bookshop, or the Waterstones in town. I mean, think of how many books are by the side of your bed, gathering dust despite you saying you're definitely get to them soon. No one's going to want to read a first-time novelists 'ok' book. So, I tried again. And another year passed, and another 90-ish-thousand words got typed, and this one was a bit better. Slightly different in tone to the first, less dark, more quirky, still crime, and better than the first attempt.

But better than 'ok' still isn't going to set the world alight and, from there, I got a bit disheartened. If I wasn't completely happy with the results, why would anyone else be? How could I shout about a book that I didn't have complete faith in?

So, I sulked. Then I got scared of the blank page. That flashing cursor feels like Sauron's eye at times. Like it's watching you, knowing that you're in trouble, waiting to have the last laugh. And writing a book takes aaaaaages. Well, it takes me ages. With a full time job, a family and all the commitments that go with that, finding time to write is hard. So, for a while, I didn't.

But, and I suppose this is the crux of this post (apologies it's taken so long to arrive at it), I missed writing because it was a release. It allowed me to forget all about work, to put the kids' dietary foibles to one side, to pretend that new internal door I just hung didn't need another half-inch shaved off the bottom. It allowed me to make things up, to put people in danger, to save them, to not save them, to make them scared, or laugh, or cry. It put me in charge. And who can say they truly feel in charge that often?

So, I started again. And another year passed and, at the end of that year, Dark Waters came into being. Was it good? I thought so. Was it great? Nope. But to paraphrase Ernest Hemingway, 'writing is rewriting'. So, I rewrote. Then rewrote some more. Then got help with editing from a professional (thanks, Mark). Then I rewrote again. And, well, here we are.

So, if the question is 'what is writing good for?', then the answer – or, my answer – is that it's good for lots of reasons; mental agility, stress, expanded imagination, a sense of control, a desire to create. Does writing need to end up as a book? Of course not. It can be whatever you want it to be, at whatever length, in whatever format, but if you're thinking about writing, or in the middle of a project, don't give up. It's hard, but nothing worth doing was ever easy. Except sunbathing.

Oh, and if you are looking for something else to read, despite that extensive 'to read' pile next to your bed, and you like fast-paced, crime-centred stories with flawed but likeable characters, you could do worse than Dark Waters.