Death of a Creationist

With the weather now at almost Biblical levels I’ve been sitting indoors and staring at my second novel, it has the working title of Resolution. Though, that’s a misnomer as it’s not really working at all at the moment. I look at it and it looks back at me like a peeved cat might. I thought I’d wrestled one new chapter to the floor, but it sprang back up at me like Jackie Chan and punched me in the throat. That paragraph, I thought as I went over like badly stacked cards, is missing something. It still is, I considered throwing my Mac across the room in a fit of pique, but it’s been years since I’ve been that drunk so I simmered quietly instead and then went to the fridge and drank a tin of beer shaped like a tiny barrel and then I sighed.

It’s not all doom and gloom (unless you’re at the sharp end of this latest weather front because that’s literally what it is) though as the feedback on CCMS has been nothing short of dreamlike this far. Most of my friends have loved it (but then they are my friends) and Nicky Wire of the Manics described it thus: Cross Country Murder Song is 245 pages of dark – Welsh – disturbing – romantic – America splendor while his singer James volunteered that he never knew I was such a dark soul. Phill Jupitus was too kind for words too, but I’ll save his remarks and my blushes. Actually, talking of Wire, and I was, he and I will be at the Laugharne Festival in Wales on the 10th and 11th April next year. I’ll be reading on the Saturday and hosting a Q&A onstage with Nicky on the Sunday. We’ll be talking books, lyrics, poetry, art and the essence of being Welsh. Possibly. I’m also having a book launch in London in February too at which Phill and I will be reading and also playing some of our favourite tunes. Please don’t get too excited as your name’s not down and you certainly aren’t coming in. Hence my discretion in the where and the when. And I’m also reading at the Green Man festival next August, come down and throw fruit at me and tell me my book’s almost certainly overrated, I’ve got it coming. Or I will have, I’ll think I’m Hemingway by then and will be sporting a jumper and beard to match. (I will be doing neither of those things). The bound proof of the book went off to America on Friday to see if an American story written by a Taff can hold its own in the land of the free. More news on that when we get it. I could use the money and the affirmation.

On the domestic front, I do have one, I’m moving in with a girl (heaven forfend) and about to get rid of most of my books and CDs (get in touch if you’d like some and don’t expect me to send it to you as some morons have suggested). It’s long overdue. My library has sat unread in my shed for about five years now so it would only mean lugging my extensive collection of literature and music back across London before finally tipping it in the Thames. I mean, who has that kind of time? I’m already looking forward to 2010, new home, first novel, being roundly damned by critics and my fellow man and my face all over Waterstones, I’ll be bad, I’ll be nationwide…




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