So today I got a package through from Pan, containing not only a laser-print of the completed cover, but also two bound proof-copies of the book itself, none of which I'd been expecting just yet - since I'd been given no warning they were coming. It's now I have to seriously think about upgrading my blogger account so I can post pictures as well as text.

Perhaps foolishly, I sort of half-assumed they'd let me know someone was working on the cover. Unfortunately, I don't even know who the artist is - but since Steve Stone's name was getting kicked about a lot, and the fact it looks like his style, I'll say I'm 90 per cent certain that's who it is. It took a while before it sank in, but the cover pretty accurately matches one of the suggestions I gave them when they asked me if I had any ideas for the cover art. It's not strictly representative of any one particular scene, but rather a blend of images from different parts of the story - all sort of multilayered, half-visible through each other, with Elias in the foreground.

Basically, it looks great. Really great. ALthough I would have to say Elias looks a little too young and fresh-faced to be a grizzled ex-soldier on the run from an inescapable destiny. Mind you, I'm more than happy to live with it as it is. It would just be nice if they made him look, I don't know, just a touch more weatherbeaten and tired ..

The next step is to email Pan back and sort out whether or not I can post the artwork yet. If that's the case, the next step is to set this blog up to take the picture.

So I'm playing around with ideas for what to do once Against Gravity is out of the way. Not that it's actually completed until the editor at Tor has decided what does or doesn't need to be changed: the edits on Angel Stations took a good few months last summer, and for all I know it could be just as much of a slog with AG. However, once I've finished AG as much as it can be finished before that process starts, I'll be thinking of other projects.

I may have said this before, but the most likely by far will be an extensive rewrite of my first, unpublished novel, Touched by an Angel. Except I'l be renaming it Leviathan's Fall. I've had some ideas floating around in my head, amongst many others. Here's a few:

a novel about the hunt for a fifth columnist in Hollywood just before America enters the Second World War, centring around the production of a certain famous movie, and also reflecting some of the issues raised in that movie.

Black Knight - sort of a rock and roll comedy based around a heavy metal band (called Black Knight) touring the UK in the early Eighties, but more about an obsessive fan who's determined to get to meet with the increasingly psychotic and delusional guitarist of same.

Real World Kills, which idea I detailed to some extent last year in this blog, playing around with virtual economies (but a lot more fun than that might sound)

And one or two other ideas, frankly too bizarre for me to be sure they'd even make sense if I tried to write them down here.

When you get a book contract, there's an understanding that whatever you're going to write is not too distant from whatever you sold to get that deal. That means I'm expected to write science fiction or, as my editor Peter Lavery said to me when I met him at Eastercon last year, 'now, you're not going to write any books about magic cats, are you?"

... and ever since, I've been trying to think of a way I can ... no, better not go there.

Which means if I want to go off writing non-genre books about fifth columnists or Hollywood or heavy metal bands, I'll (rather unsurprisingly) have to go somewhere else with them. I don't mind; I'm quite happy to write solidly sf genre books for a long time yet. But everyone looks for a chance to do other stuff as well.

Whether or not they actually get a chance to do that, the modern publishing market being what it is - that's probably another story.

If I haven't been blogging as much recently, it's due to various factors. I have to tile my bathroom, put shelves up in at least three locations, buy furniture, etc etc. Also, I still haven't sorted out where to put the computer, as a result of which the monitor is balanced on a kitchen chair while the main unit is sort of wedged between the tv unit and a couch. Not the most comfortable or best place from which to update a blog.

The current (fiifth) draft of Against Gravity is moving quickly. I have the shape of the book worked out now; now what I need to do is make sure that the explanations and clues for what is actually going on throughout various parts of the manuscript match up, since precisely why certain things were happening have changed, at least in terms of intent and purpose. Also, I've found since I started writing books that sometimes characters who seemed central have a habit of getting lost towards the end - primarily because their usefulness to the plot has ceased. It's a learning thing. This is why you get to kill characters off. Someone sort of hanging around, hoping for an invite to the slambang finale? Bang! And they're dead. Problem sorted.

Well, okay, maybe that is a slightly frivolous way of putting it. I swear I have a much more considered and careful approach to plot and character.

Other authors, of course, will know which is the true answer.

I'm starting to think about Eastercon. Should I stay, or should I go? It's in Blackpool, which I've never been to, which would give me something to explore during those parts of conventions which primarily consist of sitting around in a sterile hotel wondering where everyone you know has gone to. I should go, since I gather quite a few other Tor writers are going to be there whom I haven't met. I believe one or two are flying over from the States, including Jeff Vandermeer, who seems to be making something of a name for himself right now.

A couple of weeks ago, I sent Against Gravity off to my agent to see what she thought of it. The response I got back was good - better than I hoped. Not to say it's perfect; the points she picked on were ones I simply hadn't addressed yet. For instance, part of it's set in Edinburgh, a hundred years from now. I haven't particularly 'futurised' it, mainly because I've been more concerned with getting the story down, and I'm not always comfortable with the idea of just slinging in 'futuristic' furniture for the sake of fitting in with the genre. I know a lot has changed since a hundred years before now, but a lot hasn't.. A lot of us live in the same houses as the Victorians. The building I live in was built at the end of the 19th Century, and there's a very good chance indeed people in Edinburgh will still be living in some very old houses. I don't want to slap up gleaming skyscrapers and hovercars, because that would be bullshit.

However, social and environmental change are another matter. It's very likely I'm going to freeze the UK, by using the theory that changes in global temperatures could cause the Gulf Stream to switch off, dropping this country into an Arctic climate. That I find interesting, but that's for the sixth (and hopefully last) draft. Once the tree's up, then I can put on the decorations.

In the meantime, my editor at Tor UK is reading through the (rough) draft of Against Gravity. I'm hoping (naturally) that his feelings about the book will be as positive as my agent's. I should know by the next time I update this blog.

The only thing I really, really hate about being online (apart from spam) is that Google has ripped away any delusions over the idea that, somehow, I might be the only person in the world landed with the name Gary Gibson. If I've never been entirely fond of it at certain times of my life, it's partly because I've always been marginally suspicious of a name that sounds too much like a character from early Sixties Marvel comics (Peter Parker, Reed Richards, or even Clark Kent from DC). Now Google has revealed to me: Gary Gibson, the lonely hearts-seeking sailor who owns a houseboat in 'Frisco; the Gary Gibson Jazz Quartet; and most especially, Gary Gibson, author of Making Things Float and Sink (Fun with Science). Sounds like fun.

And no, we're not the same person.

However, you can now find me at this Amazon page, which will shortly be receiving a permanent link somewhere on the right (and very close to the top). I note with interest that even though the cover price is £10.99, Amazon will be doing it for only £7.69. Cheap!

Talk about relief: I came home from the writers circle this evening to find a message on the answerphone from my agent telling me she's about halfway through Against Gravity and 'loving it'. Believe me when I say I'm the king of imagining worst-case scenarios - it's in my nature. So this is a Good Sign.

For a while now I've been promising myself a present for all the work I've done: I've worked very, very hard, and now I want a toy. An Xbox. What else are credit cards for? Except, of course, the Fates sit on high and say Lo, there shall be a note through all your neighbour's letterboxes and yours, telling you you all have to pay a couple of hundred quid each towards repairing the roof, which appears to be falling in.

Remind me again, about the joys of owning your own home.

I found a couple new writer blogs of interest, you might want to check out. Nalo Hopkinson and John Shirley. I loved Shirley's stories in the early issues of Interzone in the early '80's - sort of the genre equivalent to Joe Strummer, I guess. Though I really hope John works out the art of separating paragraphs with whatever blog engine he's using.

I'm a little ways into the fourth draft now. This has been a hard book to write, harder, certainly, than the first - and for all the usual reasons that afflict writers working on their second book when they're actually under contract to deliver the goods. When you're writing a book and you've got no idea if you're ever going to get a book deal, you don't feel under pressure. Your only boss is yourself. If it's not right, they won't buy it. Simple.

But then you do sell that book, and they want another to go with it. Fine. You write another. Not so hard, if the second uses the same characters and situation (mine doesn't). But then you hear the voice in your head. Sure, they liked the first one, but what will they think of the second? You imagine the worst, you imagine the best. You're the worst person to judge, because you're the one who wrote the thing. It's like being the actor who throws up every time he or she's about to go on stage. You have to go out there and impress. Scary. But that's all part of the business, and it's still a lot better than a lot of other things I could be doing with my life - which is why I became a writer.

One thing I saw on tv that particularly impressed me was a documentary on the author Lemony Snicket on BBC2. The presenter pretty much nailed the guy down when he described him as a 'cross between a children's entertainer and a malevolent, overgrown schoolboy'. He's the author of a series of children's books called 'A Series of Unfortunate Events'. During his readings, he likes to play an enormous accordion and sing songs with titles like 'Run Away Screaming or Die'. When he's signing books, he likes to lean forward and ask children 'are you a spy?' or to blink twice for no, once for yes, if their stepmother is evil or not.

What's important about this isn't the obvious fact that he's a highly eccentric individual as much in love with the idea of being a writer and the attendant mystery, particularly from a child's point of view. What's important is the man's genius for self-promotion. I've met some people with a genius for self-promotion. One is an amateur astronomer from Glasgow, who's also a science fiction writer. His ability to get himself in the newspapers or press can at times be astonishing. Similarly, I once did design work for a quite, quite mad woman who was literally obsessed with vampires. She, also, has a genius for self-promotion.

People with good promotion skills get noticed. When I was watching Lemony (obviously not his real name, but I can't remember what his real name is), I sat there thinking, how could I possibly make it that interesting, to be at the launch of my book? My mind was blank, and in the end my book launch will be of the traditional variety. Perhaps this is best, as these things can take practice. I look forward to my first reading with a mixture of anticipation and absolute despair. I've been to a few launches, and they all generally went pretty well. I'm sure mine will be the same. Still, I can't avoid the associated nerves.

Hmm. Just had a thought. My self-promotion clock appears to be ticking finally, somewhere in my brain.

I struggled into the New Year in a somewhat beleaguered state, lost in finishing the fourth draft of Against Gravity, currently sitting on my couch in a brown envelope, waiting for me to recover from staring slackjawed at nothing in particular. It still needs a few more drafts - but getting there, getting there.

MJ received her redundancy notice on Christmas Eve, leaving her stranded for a few weeks until she locked down another job at a business just around the corner. The redundancy was unexpected, but it was only a part time job for not very good money. The new job is full time, which means in terms of weekly income she'll be making more than me, outside of the money from writing.

My mind is still numb from finishing the current draft of the book, and as I sit here in the local library (the new, admittedly cheap ISP I signed up with is so unremittingly crap half the time I can't even get online), creative thought is deserting me. That, plus the fact I'm hammered with a cold doesn't help much. It'll be interesting to see what my agent makes of the new book - I've said many times I'm not very good at judging the quality of my own writing because I'm too close to it: I look at it, and all I see is words. I've read an interview with Terry Pratchett where he says pretty much the same thing.

Mind you, that isn't a problem if you leave the manuscript sitting in the drawer for a couple of years then take it out again. I detailed some ideas for a third novel earlier in this blog, with the title Real World Kills. I still like the idea, but the quantity and type of research it would involve would wipe me out right now: it's the kind of project I'd only really want to get into if I thought I could escape even part-time work for a while, and that's still a very long way off. So I've returned for the moment to my original plan, to completely revamp my first, unsold novel.

It was called 'Touched by an Angel', but that's the name of some dodgy US tv series, so as far as I'm concerned that's out. I read a book once by TW Moses which gave me an idea for part of the book, a city called Leviathan's Fall - so that's almost certainly going to be the new title when and if I do this.

Last year was interesting, because I got a book deal - but 2004 is the year it actually comes out. That means a possible trip to London; and attending the Eastercon seems like a good idea, though with the recent move money is, again, stretched to the limit.

There are reasons why the modern pop star should be encouraged to sing and not to talk. Apart from the fact that the modern variety has depressingly little to say, when they do say something, it tends to be as intelligent and well-considered as something shouted by a drunk staggering out of a chip shop at 3am on a Friday night. Case in point: I saw a BBC news item on the (so far) failed UK Mars mission. Myleene Klass was in there somewhere, apparently as an interested party. She told a reporter that part of her fascination grew not only out of the gosh-wow of we're-going-to-mars, but also out of national pride. I can't quote her verbatim, but it was something like -

"I'm very proud that this time we've set out to land something on Mars, that it's British, rather than, say, the Americans or the Soviets'.

The Soviets?

Well, at least her heart's in the right place ...

I'm back! With a really crappy 56k connection to boot. I'm now living in a new house a mile or two down the road from the old one, on the opposite side of the Clyde.

It's an area which is sort of up and coming, in the sense that a) the BBC are relocating around the corner from the part of the city I used to live in, and apart from their new premises a new road and foot bridge will be built to service it, and b) house prices around here have subsequently been going through the roof.

I'm not quite ready to get back into doing any major blogging just yet - I don't have a desk for the pc yet, which means I'm writing this lying on my stomach across the futon with the monitor and box sitting on the floor. Not the most comfortable position (the books get written on an ancient laptop, thereby circumventing this problem). So once things are fully unpacked and sorted out, things can get a little back on track.

Hope you have a nice christmas, nicer than ours has turned out to be so far - MJ got made redundant. A nice touch, considering it was Christmas. But it was only a crappy part-time stopgap job, so it's not really the greatest loss in the world.

In the meantime, I didn't manage to get the current draft of Against Gravity finished for Christmas - now I'm aiming for the start of New Year. Almost there, almost there ...

Posting may be intermittent for the next short while, since I cancelled my cable, tv and phone package yesterday in preparation (I hope) for moving house. I thought I could go cold turkey from the internet for, say, a week until I moved and got a new connection sorted out, and was proved stunningly wrong within a few short hours. Which is why I'm posting this from a cafe.

But with the pressure of trying to buy a house, finish the current draft of Against Gravity, and juggle finances, the energy I currently have left over for blogging is relatively minimal. Once I'm settled and I have a place to live sorted out, then I can be a little more relaxed and do things like take care of this blog. So if things get quiet until just after Christmas or perhaps until New Year, don't be too surprised. I'll keep you posted.

Sitting in the Offshore Cafe near Great Western Road this evening, with MJ, both of us having realised we were bored out of our skulls; if this goes on much longer, I may be forced to take drastic steps and buy an Xbox. Notable things that occurred: I had my first fudge brownie. Very nice. I also read through today's Guardian and found a certain article so alternately horrifying, amusing and inspiring that I felt drive to post this link. It concerns literary agent Andrew Wylie (aka The Jackal), who represents Martin Amis, and apparently once hired Benazir Bhutto for the specific purpose of charming Salman Rushdie:

From The Guardian:
'Did he really sign up Benazir Bhutto just to impress Salman?
"Um." Sniff. "Yes."
Does she know that?
Sigh. "Yeah, I think she probably does."
And did she have words with him about it?
"She did. She said [of Rushdie], he's a filthy pornographer." '

My rewrite of Against Gravity, by the way, is hovering at close to the halfway mark.

Hopefully, I'll be moving house sometime next week, so this may be my last weekend in my rented flat in the West End. Although I'll be glad to be moving, I do have a lot of associated memories with this place. In terms of this blog, I wrote the novel that got me my book contract here, although I'll be finishing the second in the new place.

I didn't my write my first, unpublished book here. That was written between jobs in another flat in the West End, just off of Byres Road. I was between jobs - or to be more precise, signing on for six months between the end of one job and the start of another - so I wrote Touched by an Angel there. I've been thinking about this a lot recently, since I dug it up recently and started reading it, and enjoying it. Because that's the curious thing; even though you can remember writing a book that's several years old, even though you know what the next sentence is going to say, you have a remarkable degree of separation that somehow allows you to read your own book almost as if someone else had written it.

What else? I got in touch with a local writer, Richard Morgan, who got a lot of attention for his first novel Altered Carbon, and he ended up joining myself and some others at our writer's workshop Tuesday past: it seemed strange to me that we could have someone who's close to being a major author writing sf, living in Glasgow, and whom we hadn't met. So we did something about it. In this way, Richard met some of the other people who write science fiction in Glasgow - myself and Duncan Lunan in particular, plus one or two others, although a couple of people who'd been wanting to drop by weren't able to make it.