Just Another Book

Friday morning and the air is a bit nippier now. I’ve had to put a hoodie on. I’m a bit knackered. Up late last night typing away for my next novel. But, it’s morning, I’ve finished my brew, and it’s time for a new column. And talking of books, the big story of the week is still all over the news. There’s this one book not even out yet, that’s causing all the uproar. 

The book is by a posh bloke moaning about another posh bloke. And about his sister who is thirty years dead. It’s not a book I’m going to read. And it’s not a book I give a crap about. I reckon I won’t be on my own there. 

Charles Spencer is the posh nob who’s written the book. Called “Swan Song, Diana My Sister”. It’s due out on 22nd September. But it’s serialised in the Daily Mail. And causing a proper noise. Because he’s made a whole bunch of accusations about the then Prince Charles who now happens to be the king. Yawn. Still don’t care, do you? 

There is a question worth asking. It’s this: Why now? Why has he left it this long before writing the book claiming all sorts about Charles? Dosh. That’s the obvious answer. He might need a few bob. Although, looking at the size of the estate he owns in Northamptonshire, I can’t imagine that’s true. Then, there’s revenge. He’s decided it’s time to have a pop at Charles. In the most public way he can. He might have teamed up with the Ginger Whinger known as Harry. To make a big noise that’s uncomfortable for the posh buggers in that palace. 

Whatever. It could be any or none of those things. But here’s my take. When I sat down to write my first book, I knew what it was about. And I knew why I was writing it. I’d argue most authors do. When I write a novel, I don’t have a plan. I have an idea. A good one. Otherwise, why bother writing it? 

That brings me to the point. Motive. Which is what I’m saying about Spencer. He’ll know why he’s written it. We may notget to know the actual truth. But he will know. You can’t sit down and write thousands of words without knowing why you’re doing it. Simple as that. 

When I wrote my first book, it was a bloody nightmare. A publisher commissioned me to write it. But being a technical book about web development, I had hoops to jump through. The writing was fine. Yet getting all the technicalities correct? That’s where the pain was. I kept going because here’s the thing. I’d get royalty payments for the book. But the dosh wasn’t the thing. Getting a book there with my name on it was. 

Now, I know. I’m an ordinary bloke nobody has ever heard of. Like thousands of other indie authors. I’ll keep writing books because I like the process. Whether they sell or not. I love writing them. That’s my point. That posh bloke on his sprawling estate in Northamptonshire had his motives for writing the book. Question is: will he be honest about it? 

Anyway, it’s Friday. I reckon it’s time for another brew. I can swap my hoodie now, for something cooler. And I can make a few notes for my writing session tonight. Because people who write books don’t do it on a whim. Anyone from the media interviewing that Spencer bloke? Ask him for an honest answer about why he wrote it. That’s where the story is.