“I’m willing to tell you. I’m wanting to tell you. I’m waiting to tell you.”

Often that’s how I feel about book 2. And the setting in which that line was spoken has a lot to do with where this post is going.

Over the past three years, most of the environments I’ve had to work in have been challenging, each in its own way. At the previous rental, there were children that would play beneath my window. Slightly intrusive, but not unpleasant. Then one of them would stub a toe or scrape a knee or just lose a game. Apparently, the best angle for maximum catharsis when crying was an upward one, more or less in the direction of my window. Then the kids finally went to school and the builders started work – about ten feet from the same window. Every day for months. Earplugs were no match. At times it was so bad I drove to parks and coffee shops and so on, but without much success.

It was becoming obvious that I needed a better work environment. None of the affordable rentals I looked were much better, but the option of buying looked like it would cost more time than I wanted to take from the writing of book 2. So I chose to muscle through it. Until it got worse.

While endeavouring to get this book finished, I’ve had to move 4 times, mostly due to the rentals being sold beneath me. Currently, the space I’m working in is so small, most of my things, book collection included, are in storage. I don’t do well when I can almost touch opposing walls in the room where I sleep and work, and I was struggling here. As much as I wanted to avoid another disruption, I realized it was time to set things up properly, find a space where long hours would not be stressful, a space where I could read broadly, think deeply, and write with full immersion.

I spent a week house sitting. Writing in a medium-sized dining room with a garden view was an eye-opener. (That was the pic in a post at the beginning of the year.) I worked long hours, yet the hours never felt heavy. Environment, I concluded, has a bigger influence on productivity than I’d allowed for.

I decided the ideal space would be a biggish room full of natural light, capable of holding lots and lots and lots of books, a room that would feel less like and office and more like a small library. That struck a chord. The idea of a writer working in a miniature library has a kind of logic in the same way that mechanics are usually found in garages or farmers in fields, but there’s more to it for me. It isn’t only the ready access to literary resources that appeals, though it is a big appeal; I just find libraries conducive to thought.

One of the libraries I never grew tired of working in was the Ussher at Dublin Trinity College. I snapped this pic a few years ago while doing research as a visiting postgrad for an earlier degree. (The half year I spent in Dublin was largely the inspiration behind A Cloud in her Eye).

I used to hang over this banister and drink in the view. Peaks, clefts, dizzy heights … Alright, it’s not quite the same thing as a spine of mist-wreathed mountains, but it’s still impressive.

The Ussher library, however, wasn’t the first to completely grip my fascination. That prize goes to this one, which I saw as a wee tyke.

Remember it? If you’ve seen the movie adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, it should look familiar. It’s the lair of Professor Higgins in My Fair Lady, where Alfred Doolittle spoke the opening lines of this post. This place has always seemed to me the most ideal environment for writing. There aren’t many who could afford anything like this, but a scaled down version without all the costly trimmings …

Over the past few years, this idea has been growing from an impractical fancy to more of a plan, and a few months ago, I decided to make it happen. So if you’re wondering why the progress bars haven’t shifted much recently, that’s the reason. In reality, work hasn’t altogether stopped on the book, but I don’t really log progress when I’m gathering ideas or making notes for new sections, which is what’s happening. More on that later.

Part of me wants to apologize for another delay in getting the second book out. But then I realize that the things that have taken the most time – studying writing and making a suitable workspace – are for the reader no less than for me. This is about playing the long game, taking the time now to set things up for the rest of the series, so that the coming books will be the absolute best I’m able to produce.

Perhaps I could have delayed building until the release of book 2, but it would have simply meant a longer wait for book 3, and book 2 would have suffered. The debut, if you’re wondering, wasn’t written in a stressful setting. I was in an area that had views of fields and horses and so on. (The Torval’s bow video was filmed there).

There are readers who insist that I hurry up and release, some with ultimatums and hostile language. I get the frustration, but I’m doing all I can to hit the balance between quality and speed. I suppose being urged to hurry is normal in today’s world, but something that has surprised me is the number of emails and comments from readers pleading with me not to launch the second book until it’s all it can be, to take the time to get it right. I really am grateful for that understanding. It’s pretty stressful when you turn off the machines in order to upgrade the factory instead of rushing ahead with the job, so those words of support help more than you know.

While we’re on the topic of correspondence, I need to mention email. Generally, I like mountains, but this is one I’m struggling to climb. If you are one of those who is still waiting for a reply to an amazing heart-felt letter, please be patient. Even if I worked on email full time, it would take a few months for me to get through everything.

I’m really happy with where the manuscript is at, but stepping away for a while has allowed me to see how some things could be improved. For example, senses of place and culture need many layers in order to come across as real, and I’ve detected a few spots where these layers could use a bit more weaving. I’ve been gathering ideas like someone netting butterflies. Or bats. Which are more interesting. Using my bat collection, I plan to work a little more on the consistency and depth of culture as well as the individual personalities. No, there will be no vampires. After that, I think it will be ready to go through the processes shown on the unfinished progress bars. Uh, those progress bars … Trust me, no one rues their recent stasis more than I do. I’ll be giving them a hefty kick start as soon as humanly possible.

Several people have asked about A Cloud in Her Eye – when it will be available etc. It’s definitely going to be released, but only after a bit of adapting, and that probably won’t happen before book 2 of The Wakening is out.

By design, Cloud is about as far from the Wakening as I could stretch. Here’s why. When you write a fantasy adventure, there is much to compel the reader. It’s like using coloured pencils instead of just charcoal. The colours – danger, mystery, suspense, characters that are larger than life, and of course the fantastical aspects – all help to make things interesting. But if you take those out, you get to see how good the basic shapes of the story are.

I wanted to get better at making a narrative hold together with normal people and their interactions. I think the temptation is to use coloured pencils to rescue shapes that aren’t quite right. If you can rather get those charcoal lines right, the coloured-pencil elements actually become more compelling, seeing as they attach to more believable forms.

It might sound as if Cloud is something baked with sawdust and water, but it’s not really like that. I’ve found that the best ingredients for a good story are the people and their interactions. Simplifying can actually make for a more interesting read. (Fear not – I won’t be distilling The Wakening to minimal elements. The fantasy aspects will actually grow as the story progresses.)

Cloud is a special book to me. I’ve grown really fond of the characters; and the setting – Ireland – is still firmly lodged in my heart. Even if real-life stories aren’t your thing, Cloud should give a glimpse of a truly beautiful country that – and now I’m going to partly contradict myself – is almost like a real-world fantasy island. 

It’s starting to appear more likely that there will be a book 4. Either that or a really long book 3. The ideas for a fourth volume have begun to flow and I’m getting pretty excited about the natural arc it would allow the story to take. Sometimes a series can be a collection of related tales, sometimes one continuous tale. I’m writing The Wakening to be more or less continuous (with a few small branches developing as it goes), so I won’t add a book 4 unless the story calls for it. I’ll keep you in the loop as we progress with the tale.

The house I’m modifying, unfortunately decided to more or less collapse when we started the renovations. Pretty much everything had to be redone. Let’s just say it was a magnificently timed sale. You could also say I was given a great opportunity to witness everything that goes into – and goes wrong when – building a house. I would have been a great deal happier with my ignorance and all the time that has been eaten up. What started out as a ten-week commitment has grown to eight months. I’ve wanted to quietly explode numerous times a day. Unfortunately, once you embark on big renovations, you have no choice but to finish. There’s no pulling out and selling after you start knocking down walls. It really does feel like a kind of prison. I’ve been thinking of it like whitewater rafting. After entering that first rapid at the top of the canyon, you’re in it until the end. Your options are finishing the rapid, or death. So I’m paddling with everything in me.

This is mostly an owner build, so I have to work site during the day and sort through the vast details of building admin at night. The hours are crazy. Just writing this blog post has taken well over a month, with time borrowed here and there. I had absolutely no idea it would be like this. If I had known before … The experience has, however, given me the inspiration for a profound new work of non-fiction. It’s going to be titled Advice on Building or Remodelling your House. I’m still putting the final touches to the manuscript, but at this point it reads as follows: Don’t.

Please feel free to comment on the text or even offer contributions for inclusion. I’d particularly appreciate hearing from anyone who has gone through the process.

I estimate, if all goes well, that I’m into the final six weeks of the building ordeal. I’m looking forward to the end like Christmas – I’m sure anyone who has ever built can relate. On that day, with writing tools honed and a mini-library ready to be put to work, I suspect I’ll be clocking some monstrous hours without noticing it. After all, I have a story to tell – a story I’m willing, wanting, waiting to tell you.