I realised something odd today: it's only seven days till Book Number The Third comes out of the bondage closet, looking for someone to spank. I'd thought it was ages and ages away. But it isn't. It looms on the horizon like a big looming thing.
It's going to be interesting to see how this one goes. I know a lot of people (mostly drug addicts, winoes, and the sexually experimental) who think that it's the best book so far... not in the whole world, obviously. I mean that accolade's probably gone to something more highbrow that doesn't feature Police Constable John 'Spanky' Rickards. You know, something like Doctor Zhivago... And that bugger never made house calls, did he? I'll bet if you called old Zhivago MD up in the middle of the night with horrific stomach pains and he'd tell you to sod off and make an appointment with the surgery. And that'll take about a month. Which isn't what you want to hear when the world's falling out of your bottom in the form of napalm-like Brown Windsor soup.
Anyway, leaving aside Dr Zhivago's piss poor bedside manner, I'm guessing that BROKEN SKIN is going to have to work like stink to come even close to DYING LIGHT's unexpected heights of success. This is because while Tesco and Asda took Book Number The Second, neither is taking Book Number The Third. And not because they didn't sell shedloads of DYING LIGHT, but because that's the way the market is at the moment. They feel they can make more money elsewhere.
It's kind of strange, knowing before the thing's even published that it's not going to do as well as the last book. No matter how much people like it. Without supermarket support it's not going to get anywhere near the bestseller lists. Because let's face it, if you're not lucky enough to make it onto the supermarket shelves these days, you're not going to make the Sunday Times top ten. Market forces and all that.
That's one of the problems with early success, I suppose: you're always expected to better it next time round.
Still, perhaps Book Number The Fourth will be a little luckier when it comes time to do the distribution thing? If not it won't be for lack of effort on the part of HarperCollins, who've always done their damnedest to get the book in front of people. Like little rabid terriers, so they are.
I suppose all I can do is be the best gosh-darn write-ist I can be! He said, in full-on cheesy bastard mode. With optional wink and thumbs-up gesture. Oh yea, feel the cheese baby!
To the beard cave!
Labels: books, Broken Skin, Flesh House, Whinge