As regular readers know, I’ve been writing a lot of short stories recently for a swathe of forthcoming anthologies (and one that is already out). This has meant putting 1322 (my sprawling novel of death, sex, mystery, witchery and music in medieval England) on a low simmer at the back of the hob. The hob, you know. The Writing Hob. You know, the big old… it’s a metaphorical hob, OK?
Now, during this break from actually writing the thing, I’ve been able to step back and muse a lot about 1322. The main plot and a couple of subs are all worked out and threaded in, and I’m pretty happy with those. I adore the characters. I’ve rethought a fairly important scene, and decided that it needs completely redoing without all the pervy overtones to which I am prone, being as I am an old perv.
Most of all though, it needs more… flavour. More pzazz. More what-the-fuck? More bugger-me-I-didn’t-see-that-coming. Basically, it needs remaking in 3D. Metaphorical 3D. Which means that it’s likely to be next summer before it finally appears now, but when it does it will be a far better book than if I rushed it to meet my original plan, a February release.
So please continue to bear with me, and read the short stories and let me know what you think of them. Oh, by the way, a central premise of 1322 is inspired by this song by Steeleye Span. Enjoy, although there are some SPOILERS.