sheenaghpugh (
sheenaghpugh) wrote2011-02-25 07:57 pm
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Interview with Mike Thomas
Mike Thomas is a serving police officer in Cardiff. His debut novel, Pocket Notebook, was published by Heinemann in 2010. It tells the dark but often comic story of Jacob Smith, a troubled and unorthodox policeman who uses his police notebook for the unauthorised purpose of chronicling his spiralling breakdown. Pocket Notebook was named one of the nine ‘Hot Books’ to watch out for at the 2009 London Book Fair and was on the 2010 Wales Book of the Year Long List.
In this excerpt, Jake has been suspended, and has no business being on patrol. But he goes anyway, into streets which he no longer sees in quite the same way as anyone else...
SHEENAGH: You're a policeman and a writer. Are those two lives completely separate?
MIKE: There was a period last Spring when I didn’t know what I was supposed to be! Following the release of Pocket Notebook it became quite a schizophrenic existence; I had to swap hats with such frequency that in the end things became rather blurred. It took some time to learn how to compartmentalise those two aspects of my life. Of course, it didn’t help that for a short while I made the mistake of thinking: this is it! I’m published! I can quit the police and grow my hair long and... maybe get some tattoos and stuff! The harsh reality swiftly sank in – debut novelist, no track record, not a celeb, releasing a book in the midst of the worst financial crisis since the Depression... I realised rather quickly that, as Chuck Palahniuk wrote in Fight Club, ‘You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.’ It’s tough out there. Extremely difficult to get yourself noticed, even with the might of a large publisher behind you. So once some of the fuss had died down I had to recalibrate, and remind myself of what I am: a police officer who writes in his spare time. It’s easier to think and work that way. I like to keep things simple. I’m a simple guy!
SHEENAGH: Have any of your police colleagues read Pocket Notebook - if so, how did they feel about it?
MIKE: Until the book was released nobody in ‘The Job’ knew I was a writer. One reason, and this is unfortunate, is when people look at me they don’t think: ‘he could probably string together a sentence or two’. I’m six feet six with very short hair, and wrong as it may be people tend to pigeonhole. I can see it in their eyes when they meet me for the first time: they’re thinking ‘thug’ or even ‘football hooligan’! Human nature, I suppose, but it grates. Another reason, and I’ll try to be kind here, is that there is a culture of machismo within the police service where trying to explain to hard-nosed colleagues the esoteric nature of ‘writing make-believe stories’ would be met with incredulous looks. Swiftly followed by muted sniggers and obscene hand gestures as you left the room. I’m not saying all police officers are like that, but, coupled with my appearance, for me it was far simpler not to say anything. And the longer it went on it became something of a dirty little secret. Most colleagues were incredibly surprised when they learned I’d gone back to University and written a novel. Some even thought I was joking – as in: “What? You?!”. Everybody I know has read it now, though, and they’ve been very complimentary. It’s been amusing to listen to them argue about which character is based on what colleague. Even though none are, of course – just in case any of my force’s legal team are reading...
SHEENAGH: You were in a writing group, I know, and then did a Masters in Writing. Sometimes I see people deriding this "groups and courses" culture (mainly, it must be said, those who know nothing about it). It seemed to work pretty well for you during your first novel; what's your take on it??
MIKE: The MPhil was a fantastic experience. I’d urge anybody who is given the chance to enrol on the course: grab the opportunity with both hands. I miss it – the structure, the rolling ten- or twelve-week deadlines, the workshops, the support. Pocket Notebook was forged on the Glamorgan campus. Workshopping it was invaluable, especially in the early stages when I was searching for the right direction to take it in. Once I’d found that direction, and found the main character’s voice, I couldn’t stop writing it. I’d lose whole days and find myself tapping away on the keyboard at 5 a.m. Then at the next residency I’d plead for the criticism to be brutal, to be completely honest, and they always obliged. I came away from those residency weekends on a high, armed with notes and edits and suggestions for maintaining the level of intensity in the work.
SHEENAGH: Did you notice any difference when writing your second, without that interaction going on?
MIKE? If the University would let me, I’d pay to turn up for this year’s residencies just to knock the new novel into some semblance of shape. I’ve really had to write my way into it, if that makes sense, whereas with Pocket Notebook it was fully-formed within a week. And I’d forgotten what a lonely experience writing can be. It’s pretty easy to get distracted. The only deadline I have is one I’ve set myself, but it’s simple to keep pushing the date back because nobody is really beating down my door for the next 20,000 words or a first-draft MS. I definitely need to be more disciplined. I’m quite adept at procrastination, and it seems life is ever busier in my house: a dangerous combination for any writer. I never had that option while on the MPhil.
And I don’t understand people dismissing or denigrating the “groups and courses” culture – it clearly works. Glamorgan seems to be spewing out published writers lately. As for writing groups, what’s wrong with spending an afternoon or evening with like-minded people, getting your work critiqued for free and, perhaps, actually learning something? Maybe discovering a new turn of phrase, or a cult author, or the kernel of an idea for a novel? I remember sitting around a kitchen table one sunny August evening, mooting the idea to my friends in my writing circle for a new novel; we discussed it for twenty minutes while I made notes and the following day I began writing. And that was Pocket Notebook.
SHEENAGH: I know you'd written a couple of novels before Pocket Notebook - the ones we all have in the drawer! PN was different; almost from when you started writing, it had this terrific momentum that made it clear beyond doubt that it would be both finished and published. I have a theory on why that was; I think the character of Jake came so alive in your head that you always knew pretty much what he'd say and do in any situation, and his aliveness drove the writing.
MIKE: I’d been living with the idea of this tragic, doomed individual for years but didn’t start writing until he was fully formed. I wanted to do him justice, and through him shine a light on the frequently ridiculous nature of police work: the targets, bureaucracy, political correctness and climate of fear that pervades the modern service... I could go on. I also felt, in a way, that the opportunity to write this novel while on the MPhil was a one-shot deal and I simply had to do it, and do it to the best of my ability. I was quite desperate, to be honest; my career in the police was stagnating and I was very unhappy in work. My writing had reached a plateau and seemed to be going nowhere. So I believe that desperation fed into the writing, and thus the drive of the narrative.
SHEENAGH: I also know, though, that Jake is most unlike you. How do you think he happened in your head?
MIKE: He’s the antithesis of me, a fact which I constantly had to remind interviewers of. It amazed me how many supposedly switched-on people confused character with author
Jake personifies all that I hate about the modern police service and certain types of police officer. When I was prepping the story – and I had reams of notes, index cards, plot points, character arcs, more than for anything I’d done beforehand – I’d ask myself: “What is the polar opposite of what I would do in this situation?”. Because that was what Jake would do. Once I began it was relatively straightforward to portray his downfall. I would never say ‘easy’ as writing a novel is anything but: it’s a hard slog, and sometimes it seems like it will never end. But straightforward in that – bang – Jake was there, and I knew him better than any character I’d ever created simply because he’s the yin to my yang. I also knew exactly where the story was going; it was mapped out to the nth degree, but I left myself wriggle room if a minor character decided to go off on a tangent. Coupled with the fact that I had nigh on twenty years in ‘The Job’ and could portray situations with a certain level of authenticity it was just a case of: this is his predicament – how can he try and make everything better, but in fact make it far, far worse?
SHEENAGH: Of course he's disgraceful but he's a lot of fun to read too, and there's a certain guilty pleasure in hearing him say things we might think but would never allow to pass our lips!
MIKE: I suppose he’s the ugly side of policing, but he was so much fun to write so that helped, too. I think bad guys usually are, because they allow you to depict inappropriate or iconoclastic behaviour, or even feed in what you as an author think about an organisation, without risking your mortgage payments... It was quite cathartic writing the MS – spilling out fifteen years of frustration as I typed. I don’t think Jake is the easiest character to live with but – given what he personifies – it was incredibly good fun torturing him as the novel progressed. I did worry I was being a little too sadistic towards the climax but by that point I was so addicted to roughing him up on the page that I couldn’t stop!
SHEENAGH: Because I'd seen all the drafts, I'm conscious of things that were left out or toned down in the published version. When I saw the changes to topography, street names etc, I at once supected the anti-Welsh prejudice of London publishers at work, knowing other writers who'd been told Wales wasn't commercial and couldn't they relocate their novel to Poland? But I gather it might have been because of the police background that it was felt unwise to locate it too definitely - is that so?
MIKE: Fantastic as it is to be published, the police are my primary source of income. It was a conscious decision on my part, and my part only, after much thought and subsequent consultation with the publishers. I would have loved to have kept Cardiff in there because I love the city. I would have been proud to see Wales and the capital in my book. When it became clear Heinemann were going to publish I was struck with how upset my employers could be. The novel doesn’t portray the police in the best of lights, and I feared they would see it as ‘guilt by association’ given that I work in Cardiff and the novel is set predominantly in the capital. For once in my life I was right – I was summoned to headquarters on the day Heinemann were ready to go to print and it was ‘explained’ to me how I would behave during any media coverage, and that it was fortuitous the locales in the story are not ‘South Wales specific’ as it could have caused ‘difficulties’.
That said, as far as ‘toning down’ certain elements is concerned, I would say it was an editorial decision. There was a desire to make Jake a tad more sympathetic; certainly my agent thought he was a little too ‘out there’. It’s been odd to find readers being shocked by his behaviour because I found the things he says and does rather tame, if not vaguely humorous like he’s a walking bad joke. I’m not sure what that says about me as a person! But after two decades in the police I’ve pretty much seen it all, and watched the crazy things real human beings get up to; in comparison Jake’s antics are nowhere near as extreme. In fact if I’d used real life situations in the book it would have been labelled totally outlandish and unbelievable.
SHEENAGH: What's it been like dealing with agents and publishers?
MIKE: My agent and the people at Heinemann have been wonderful from the outset. I do put it into perspective though – I spend my ‘other’ working days being shouted at and abused, and repeatedly told – quite rightly most of the time – that the police are crap, so the London crowd could have made the bare minimum of effort and it would have been an improvement! But seriously, I have no complaints. None whatsoever. It’s been an eye-opener too, that’s for sure. How the other half live! And I have come away with some rude yet amusing anecdotes about certain ‘big-hitter’ authors, those ubiquitous names you see on the bestsellers and awards shortlists.
SHEENAGH: And actually trying to market the book? It's a side of things many writers never get to find out about on any large scale! Dan Rhodes, I know, adores it; some hate it, how was it for you?
MIKE: As well as being an exceptional writer Dan is very, very good at the promotion side of it. You can see he enjoys it. I, on the other hand, am not and do not, but I try my best. I’m sure I’ll improve over time and with experience. After so long in the police where I can pretty much do the job with my eyes closed, it’s as if I’ve embarked on a new career and been taken completely out of my comfort zone. I was particularly terrible doing the first few radio interviews – I droned on and on in one, then got the presenter’s name wrong in the other. And a promo video we filmed in a council estate in London: I just froze. I cringe thinking about it now, and feel so guilty for letting down my pal Harvey at Heinemann. It was just lucky that the video crew got enough coverage to cut together and make me look reasonably lucid. I have a new-found respect for anybody who goes into TV presenting, put it that way. There was also the issue of being very careful about what I said. As I mentioned, I was ‘reminded’ by headquarters about inappropriate behaviour during PR for the novel. That played heavily on my mind. Constantly, in fact. I think it stifled me, to be honest. I was extremely careful about coming out with anything remotely contentious. I was forever thinking up witty, near-the-knuckle answers then quickly batting them aside to come out with bland corporate-speak whenever I was asked about the job.
I’m just not very good at selling myself; the thought of standing about essentially saying “look at me, aren’t I brilliant!” makes me feel quite unwell. I’d rather wade alone into a ten-man pub fight than have to do another book signing where just my mother turns up, which has happened. I see it as a necessary evil – it seems to be part and parcel of the writer’s life nowadays, and I’m not necessarily sure that’s a good thing but publishers simply aren’t going to plough tens of thousands of pounds into a debut or mid-list author’s novel any more. It’s just the way it is now, and I understand that completely. Publishing is a business, after all. But I certainly don’t adore ‘pimping myself out’. It was a huge surprise just how much networking goes on, particularly using social sites. The effect can be huge and it’s taken me until recently to grasp the concept, probably to the annoyance of the publishers. You’re talking about somebody who was quite happily using a dial-up internet connection a mere ten months ago!
SHEENAGH: I know there's a new book in preparation; I'm not asking for spoilers but can you tease us with some info?
MIKE: It’s called Ugly Bus. Whereas Pocket Notebook portrayed one slightly unpleasant policeman suffering a mental breakdown and spiralling out of control, Ugly Bus follows a group of essentially good plods on a so-called ‘riot van’ who end up doing a Very Bad Thing. A Very, Very Bad Thing Indeed, actually. I’m interested in why people behave in particular ways when surrounded by others, almost burying their personalities just to fit in with the group. The new novel explores this, and the effect it has on several characters. It’s taken an ungodly amount of research, too - group dynamics, pack mentality and so on. The Milgram experiments, too – just how far would you go in following orders, even if they conflicted with your conscience? It’s pretty dark. Darker than the first. If Pocket Notebook didn’t get me sacked, I think this one will...
Links to other information
The publisher's page for Pocket Notebook
Promo video for Pocket Notebook
The Independent's review of Pocket Notebook

In this excerpt, Jake has been suspended, and has no business being on patrol. But he goes anyway, into streets which he no longer sees in quite the same way as anyone else...
"What you've done here is just the start," I say, moving closer. "It's just a few small steps to a life of crime, boy. Possibly worse. You could end up as a threat to the security of the country. It's lucky I got to you so quickly. To nip it in the bud."
       "It's just spraying a wall..." one of them mutters, eyeing me with an odd expression.
       "Right", I say. "You've asked for it." I whip out the old Fixed Penalties, ask their names, addresses, dates of birth. The boxes of the pro forma aren't big enough for all the details but I write them down anyway. Fill in three of them as best I can, flip the top copy off each, hand one to each of the artistes.
       "What's this for?" Carrier Bag asks, looking at the chitty with a mystified expression.
       "A fine," I tell them. "For criminal damage."
       "But it's a parking ticket," he says, wrinkling his nose.
       "Don't be clever with me!" I yell, then clench my jaw as they look at each other; look at me. Start giggling. Cheeky little bastards.
       "Come on," Carrier Bag says to his chums. "Let's chip. This dude's a freak."
       My fingers toy with the mouse gun through the fabric of my cargos. I feel the muzzle, the trigger guard. The handle with its magazine of nine-millie bullets. "Laugh all you want, boys," I tell them as they shuffle towards the main drag. "You won't be laughing when you've got to find eighty quid each for those fines, yeah? Ha! Yeah? Are you listening to me?"
       They disappear around the corner. I hear screams of laughter. [...] Another small incident taken care of for the greater good. I pull out my cigar tin, select the half-smoked reefer, light it and take a long drag. I hold my breath, lean against the wall. Exhale. Nice. Very, very nice. Just chill and smoke and work out what you need to do next, Jake. I finish the spliff, stumble out of the alleyway.
       My face hurts and it takes a minute for me to realise I'm grinning uncontrollably. I really can't relax my cheeks or lips. Not to worry. Adds to the agreeable air. The smiling, helpful policeman. I nod at a couple more pensioners. Wave back at a bus full of primary school children, forget to stop waving even after the bus has driven off and it's just me shuffling down the street with my arm in the air.
SHEENAGH: You're a policeman and a writer. Are those two lives completely separate?
MIKE: There was a period last Spring when I didn’t know what I was supposed to be! Following the release of Pocket Notebook it became quite a schizophrenic existence; I had to swap hats with such frequency that in the end things became rather blurred. It took some time to learn how to compartmentalise those two aspects of my life. Of course, it didn’t help that for a short while I made the mistake of thinking: this is it! I’m published! I can quit the police and grow my hair long and... maybe get some tattoos and stuff! The harsh reality swiftly sank in – debut novelist, no track record, not a celeb, releasing a book in the midst of the worst financial crisis since the Depression... I realised rather quickly that, as Chuck Palahniuk wrote in Fight Club, ‘You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.’ It’s tough out there. Extremely difficult to get yourself noticed, even with the might of a large publisher behind you. So once some of the fuss had died down I had to recalibrate, and remind myself of what I am: a police officer who writes in his spare time. It’s easier to think and work that way. I like to keep things simple. I’m a simple guy!
SHEENAGH: Have any of your police colleagues read Pocket Notebook - if so, how did they feel about it?
MIKE: Until the book was released nobody in ‘The Job’ knew I was a writer. One reason, and this is unfortunate, is when people look at me they don’t think: ‘he could probably string together a sentence or two’. I’m six feet six with very short hair, and wrong as it may be people tend to pigeonhole. I can see it in their eyes when they meet me for the first time: they’re thinking ‘thug’ or even ‘football hooligan’! Human nature, I suppose, but it grates. Another reason, and I’ll try to be kind here, is that there is a culture of machismo within the police service where trying to explain to hard-nosed colleagues the esoteric nature of ‘writing make-believe stories’ would be met with incredulous looks. Swiftly followed by muted sniggers and obscene hand gestures as you left the room. I’m not saying all police officers are like that, but, coupled with my appearance, for me it was far simpler not to say anything. And the longer it went on it became something of a dirty little secret. Most colleagues were incredibly surprised when they learned I’d gone back to University and written a novel. Some even thought I was joking – as in: “What? You?!”. Everybody I know has read it now, though, and they’ve been very complimentary. It’s been amusing to listen to them argue about which character is based on what colleague. Even though none are, of course – just in case any of my force’s legal team are reading...
SHEENAGH: You were in a writing group, I know, and then did a Masters in Writing. Sometimes I see people deriding this "groups and courses" culture (mainly, it must be said, those who know nothing about it). It seemed to work pretty well for you during your first novel; what's your take on it??
MIKE: The MPhil was a fantastic experience. I’d urge anybody who is given the chance to enrol on the course: grab the opportunity with both hands. I miss it – the structure, the rolling ten- or twelve-week deadlines, the workshops, the support. Pocket Notebook was forged on the Glamorgan campus. Workshopping it was invaluable, especially in the early stages when I was searching for the right direction to take it in. Once I’d found that direction, and found the main character’s voice, I couldn’t stop writing it. I’d lose whole days and find myself tapping away on the keyboard at 5 a.m. Then at the next residency I’d plead for the criticism to be brutal, to be completely honest, and they always obliged. I came away from those residency weekends on a high, armed with notes and edits and suggestions for maintaining the level of intensity in the work.
SHEENAGH: Did you notice any difference when writing your second, without that interaction going on?
MIKE? If the University would let me, I’d pay to turn up for this year’s residencies just to knock the new novel into some semblance of shape. I’ve really had to write my way into it, if that makes sense, whereas with Pocket Notebook it was fully-formed within a week. And I’d forgotten what a lonely experience writing can be. It’s pretty easy to get distracted. The only deadline I have is one I’ve set myself, but it’s simple to keep pushing the date back because nobody is really beating down my door for the next 20,000 words or a first-draft MS. I definitely need to be more disciplined. I’m quite adept at procrastination, and it seems life is ever busier in my house: a dangerous combination for any writer. I never had that option while on the MPhil.
And I don’t understand people dismissing or denigrating the “groups and courses” culture – it clearly works. Glamorgan seems to be spewing out published writers lately. As for writing groups, what’s wrong with spending an afternoon or evening with like-minded people, getting your work critiqued for free and, perhaps, actually learning something? Maybe discovering a new turn of phrase, or a cult author, or the kernel of an idea for a novel? I remember sitting around a kitchen table one sunny August evening, mooting the idea to my friends in my writing circle for a new novel; we discussed it for twenty minutes while I made notes and the following day I began writing. And that was Pocket Notebook.
SHEENAGH: I know you'd written a couple of novels before Pocket Notebook - the ones we all have in the drawer! PN was different; almost from when you started writing, it had this terrific momentum that made it clear beyond doubt that it would be both finished and published. I have a theory on why that was; I think the character of Jake came so alive in your head that you always knew pretty much what he'd say and do in any situation, and his aliveness drove the writing.
MIKE: I’d been living with the idea of this tragic, doomed individual for years but didn’t start writing until he was fully formed. I wanted to do him justice, and through him shine a light on the frequently ridiculous nature of police work: the targets, bureaucracy, political correctness and climate of fear that pervades the modern service... I could go on. I also felt, in a way, that the opportunity to write this novel while on the MPhil was a one-shot deal and I simply had to do it, and do it to the best of my ability. I was quite desperate, to be honest; my career in the police was stagnating and I was very unhappy in work. My writing had reached a plateau and seemed to be going nowhere. So I believe that desperation fed into the writing, and thus the drive of the narrative.
SHEENAGH: I also know, though, that Jake is most unlike you. How do you think he happened in your head?
MIKE: He’s the antithesis of me, a fact which I constantly had to remind interviewers of. It amazed me how many supposedly switched-on people confused character with author
Jake personifies all that I hate about the modern police service and certain types of police officer. When I was prepping the story – and I had reams of notes, index cards, plot points, character arcs, more than for anything I’d done beforehand – I’d ask myself: “What is the polar opposite of what I would do in this situation?”. Because that was what Jake would do. Once I began it was relatively straightforward to portray his downfall. I would never say ‘easy’ as writing a novel is anything but: it’s a hard slog, and sometimes it seems like it will never end. But straightforward in that – bang – Jake was there, and I knew him better than any character I’d ever created simply because he’s the yin to my yang. I also knew exactly where the story was going; it was mapped out to the nth degree, but I left myself wriggle room if a minor character decided to go off on a tangent. Coupled with the fact that I had nigh on twenty years in ‘The Job’ and could portray situations with a certain level of authenticity it was just a case of: this is his predicament – how can he try and make everything better, but in fact make it far, far worse?
SHEENAGH: Of course he's disgraceful but he's a lot of fun to read too, and there's a certain guilty pleasure in hearing him say things we might think but would never allow to pass our lips!
MIKE: I suppose he’s the ugly side of policing, but he was so much fun to write so that helped, too. I think bad guys usually are, because they allow you to depict inappropriate or iconoclastic behaviour, or even feed in what you as an author think about an organisation, without risking your mortgage payments... It was quite cathartic writing the MS – spilling out fifteen years of frustration as I typed. I don’t think Jake is the easiest character to live with but – given what he personifies – it was incredibly good fun torturing him as the novel progressed. I did worry I was being a little too sadistic towards the climax but by that point I was so addicted to roughing him up on the page that I couldn’t stop!
SHEENAGH: Because I'd seen all the drafts, I'm conscious of things that were left out or toned down in the published version. When I saw the changes to topography, street names etc, I at once supected the anti-Welsh prejudice of London publishers at work, knowing other writers who'd been told Wales wasn't commercial and couldn't they relocate their novel to Poland? But I gather it might have been because of the police background that it was felt unwise to locate it too definitely - is that so?
MIKE: Fantastic as it is to be published, the police are my primary source of income. It was a conscious decision on my part, and my part only, after much thought and subsequent consultation with the publishers. I would have loved to have kept Cardiff in there because I love the city. I would have been proud to see Wales and the capital in my book. When it became clear Heinemann were going to publish I was struck with how upset my employers could be. The novel doesn’t portray the police in the best of lights, and I feared they would see it as ‘guilt by association’ given that I work in Cardiff and the novel is set predominantly in the capital. For once in my life I was right – I was summoned to headquarters on the day Heinemann were ready to go to print and it was ‘explained’ to me how I would behave during any media coverage, and that it was fortuitous the locales in the story are not ‘South Wales specific’ as it could have caused ‘difficulties’.
That said, as far as ‘toning down’ certain elements is concerned, I would say it was an editorial decision. There was a desire to make Jake a tad more sympathetic; certainly my agent thought he was a little too ‘out there’. It’s been odd to find readers being shocked by his behaviour because I found the things he says and does rather tame, if not vaguely humorous like he’s a walking bad joke. I’m not sure what that says about me as a person! But after two decades in the police I’ve pretty much seen it all, and watched the crazy things real human beings get up to; in comparison Jake’s antics are nowhere near as extreme. In fact if I’d used real life situations in the book it would have been labelled totally outlandish and unbelievable.
SHEENAGH: What's it been like dealing with agents and publishers?
MIKE: My agent and the people at Heinemann have been wonderful from the outset. I do put it into perspective though – I spend my ‘other’ working days being shouted at and abused, and repeatedly told – quite rightly most of the time – that the police are crap, so the London crowd could have made the bare minimum of effort and it would have been an improvement! But seriously, I have no complaints. None whatsoever. It’s been an eye-opener too, that’s for sure. How the other half live! And I have come away with some rude yet amusing anecdotes about certain ‘big-hitter’ authors, those ubiquitous names you see on the bestsellers and awards shortlists.
SHEENAGH: And actually trying to market the book? It's a side of things many writers never get to find out about on any large scale! Dan Rhodes, I know, adores it; some hate it, how was it for you?
MIKE: As well as being an exceptional writer Dan is very, very good at the promotion side of it. You can see he enjoys it. I, on the other hand, am not and do not, but I try my best. I’m sure I’ll improve over time and with experience. After so long in the police where I can pretty much do the job with my eyes closed, it’s as if I’ve embarked on a new career and been taken completely out of my comfort zone. I was particularly terrible doing the first few radio interviews – I droned on and on in one, then got the presenter’s name wrong in the other. And a promo video we filmed in a council estate in London: I just froze. I cringe thinking about it now, and feel so guilty for letting down my pal Harvey at Heinemann. It was just lucky that the video crew got enough coverage to cut together and make me look reasonably lucid. I have a new-found respect for anybody who goes into TV presenting, put it that way. There was also the issue of being very careful about what I said. As I mentioned, I was ‘reminded’ by headquarters about inappropriate behaviour during PR for the novel. That played heavily on my mind. Constantly, in fact. I think it stifled me, to be honest. I was extremely careful about coming out with anything remotely contentious. I was forever thinking up witty, near-the-knuckle answers then quickly batting them aside to come out with bland corporate-speak whenever I was asked about the job.
I’m just not very good at selling myself; the thought of standing about essentially saying “look at me, aren’t I brilliant!” makes me feel quite unwell. I’d rather wade alone into a ten-man pub fight than have to do another book signing where just my mother turns up, which has happened. I see it as a necessary evil – it seems to be part and parcel of the writer’s life nowadays, and I’m not necessarily sure that’s a good thing but publishers simply aren’t going to plough tens of thousands of pounds into a debut or mid-list author’s novel any more. It’s just the way it is now, and I understand that completely. Publishing is a business, after all. But I certainly don’t adore ‘pimping myself out’. It was a huge surprise just how much networking goes on, particularly using social sites. The effect can be huge and it’s taken me until recently to grasp the concept, probably to the annoyance of the publishers. You’re talking about somebody who was quite happily using a dial-up internet connection a mere ten months ago!
SHEENAGH: I know there's a new book in preparation; I'm not asking for spoilers but can you tease us with some info?
MIKE: It’s called Ugly Bus. Whereas Pocket Notebook portrayed one slightly unpleasant policeman suffering a mental breakdown and spiralling out of control, Ugly Bus follows a group of essentially good plods on a so-called ‘riot van’ who end up doing a Very Bad Thing. A Very, Very Bad Thing Indeed, actually. I’m interested in why people behave in particular ways when surrounded by others, almost burying their personalities just to fit in with the group. The new novel explores this, and the effect it has on several characters. It’s taken an ungodly amount of research, too - group dynamics, pack mentality and so on. The Milgram experiments, too – just how far would you go in following orders, even if they conflicted with your conscience? It’s pretty dark. Darker than the first. If Pocket Notebook didn’t get me sacked, I think this one will...
Links to other information
The publisher's page for Pocket Notebook
Promo video for Pocket Notebook
The Independent's review of Pocket Notebook