I’ve been sitting on some news. It’s wriggly and excited news, and I keep needing to jump up and twirl before sitting on it again, uncomfortably.
And my news is this:
*clears throat in manner of Miss Anne Elk*
I have signed a two-book deal with Farrago Books!
(Go on – click play. You know you want to.)
The deal comprises one comic novel I’ve already written and a sequel I haven’t yet, set in the world of amateur orchestras and choirs – a world I am terrifyingly familiar with. More terrifying to my friends, apparently, who sidled up when they suspected what I was writing to enquire (rather too shrilly for their élan) ‘I’m not in it, am I?’ My standard response was ‘of course not!’ Some of them didn’t look convinced, and if this makes a few readers nervous I can only apologise. My lawyer is now gesticulating. I think I should state that I’ve made everybody up, completely. There. Hush.
The first book is called Life, Death and Cellos. I was warned my original working title of Sex, Death and Cellos is too risqué for some markets, plus the trading standards thing of there not actually being any sex written down in plain sight (thank GOD – I am British after all), so this is a perfect solution. I was giddy for a while and fired off some over-caffeinated title ideas like Celli Con Karma, but luckily Abbie Headon – Commissioning Editor at Farrago and all-round brilliant person – is good at reining me in when I need it.
Farrago specialises in funny series. They publish different genres (humorous mystery and crime, romantic comedy, science fiction and fantasy etc). Given my title, it’s not a spoiler to hint that somebody dies. I have named my fictional orchestra ‘Stockwell Park Orchestra’. Other elements [NO SPOILERS] let us happily bung it into the subcategory of ‘mystery’, and therefore each book in the series will be A Stockwell Park Orchestra Mystery. Abbie has announced the whole exciting business over on Farrago.
Life, Death and Cellos will be published on 14th February 2019. I recommend you buy a copy to take on that romantic dinner, in case of embarrassing lulls in conversation.
If anyone needs me between now and next year, I’ll be busy writing the next book. And drinking the odd celebratory martini.