Praise for Declan Burke: “Burke shows again that he’s not just a comic genius, but also a fine dramatic writer and storyteller.” – Booklist. “Proust meets Chandler over a pint of Guinness.” – Spectator. “Among the most memorable books of the year, of any genre.” – Sunday Times. “A hardboiled delight.” – Guardian. “Imagine Donald Westlake and Richard Stark collaborating on a screwball noir.” – Kirkus Reviews. “A cross between Raymond Chandler and Flann O’Brien.” – John Banville.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Crime Always Pays? Oooh, The Irony

Had some bad news on Friday, folks – a rather fine publishing emporium in the USA was taking a long and serious look at the prospect of bringing THE BIG O’s sequel, aka CRIME ALWAYS PAYS, to a shelf near you, but they eventually decided nay, nay and thrice nay. It’s a shame because the people involved are good people, and smart too, and it would have been good to work with them. But, and for the kind of reasons you never stop to think of when you start out writing a book, it would appear that Operation Grand Vizier has, temporarily at least, run into the sand. Boo, etc.
  But lo! I’m not taking this lying down. I wallowed all weekend, and that’s as self-indulgent as it’ll get. In five years time, and as a direct consequence of the last six months, I’ll be a better writer and a wiser human being. Every writer has his or her war stories about rejections and setbacks, and at the end of the day, guv, what’s life but stories for the grandkids?
  Besides, it’s only a book. As I said earlier today, I could be sitting in Gaza City right now, or southern Israel, with a baby in a cot and half-expecting a rocket through the window.
  If the worst thing that happens me in 2009 is a book rejection, it’ll have been a tolerable year. Meanwhile, anyone who needs a laugh should check out the classic Brian-Stewie walkie-talkie riff. Roll it there, Collette, over …
UPDATE: My brother-in-law arrived last night, with the Tom and Jerry-style photograph below (no photo-shopping involved, honest), which was taken by his lovely wife, my equally lovely sister, and which just about captured the mood perfectly. I calls it ‘No Guts, No Glory’. Peace, out.