Authors Electric

So picture this, sensation seekers. At a specified time on Monday, I will be hunched over my laptop fielding a million calls from slavering punters desperate to know the nuts and bolts of historical fiction-writing. In actual fact, I am due to take part in an online forum organised by my e-book publishers Endeavour Press. Historical books are a substantial part of their trade, and a substantial part of my output. My first book when I moved from children to adults was called A Fine Boy for Killing, set in the British Navy in the second half of the eighteenth century. My latest effort, which I am only halfway through, is the third in my series of novellas based on the life of Nelson. In between, there have been further delvings into times past (should that be passed, I wonder?), one of which, Death Order, uses the mystery flight of Rudolf Hess as its basis. I'm not a great believer in conspiracy theories, but some of them are just too enticing. My last novella, Napoleon:...

I get very jealous when I read all you other writers’ blogs. You all seem so effortlessly serious in your choice of subject and the erudition and application you so generously put in. And here am I, pushing the monthly deadline to its outer limit (not for the first time, or the second, or the third). Look at Dennis. Spends half his life zooming around the planet enjoying himself, and still has time to produce a wonderful new volume, and make me dribble with longing for his buckshee television. And then a spiffing blog on top. As you can see, deadline or not, I haven't got a thought in my head as to what to write. My brain is wrecked. I'm seven-eighths of the way through revising a big thriller, I've just spent a week doing a final polish on the second of my nautical novellas about Charlie (Craven) Raven, and in the interstices (try saying that to a voice recognition programme!) I've hammered out an outline and pitching document for a novel about Napoleon. Fasc...