Yesterday saw the end of a journey begun three years ago: the last words of a story that started decades ago. Yesterday my third book, the conclusion of The Devil’s Bible Series, went on sale. Hopefully it will garner rave reviews and mammoth sales, but que sera sera – I have done it.
I didn’t intend to become an author. I certainly didn’t intend to write three books. I was already halfway through the story that was in my head when I thought it might be a good idea to find out how long a book should be. I should have planned more, but that’s not how I tend to work, and so one book became three, and I became an author.
For the past three years I have bored everyone senseless with factoids from the mid-17th century. It’s small wonder I don’t get invited to dinner parties any more. For the past three years, I have taken random ideas and woven them together into a single story.
And now I have a confession to make.
I’m hooked on writing. I have put my money where my mouth is and written a book. And I want to write more. Oh, I know, there are things that could be improved – there always will be – but I want to know what happens next to Isabella and Conor, to the Fianna, to Leo and the Ducky of Brabant, so it looks like there's more to come.
Bur first my focus has to be on marketing the book and keeping the promises I made to my readers. That starts with my blog tour, where I have contributed guest posts to blogs I find interesting. Check out the tour here, and please visit the sites – they range from history to writing, food to fantasy. And go out and buy The Stone Bridge. It’s up on Amazon and will be on the other retailers over the weekend.
Longer-term, I have great plans, involving bestseller lists and literary festivals, but I might have to content myself with a celebratory drink this evening. Gin, I think – the best invention of the Thirty Years War.
Other than the Sons of Brabant, that is.