Salinger, and other happenings...

I'm useless at this blogging stuff. Too much of a chore, or a distraction, especially when there is real writing to be done. But here I am, sitting in a little gap-time, so a few words...
First off, the earthquake in Haiti. Wouldn't you have to be made of stone not to be broken up by that situation? Hispaniola, once the diamond of the Caribbean, fought over by virtually every country that has ever amassed a naval fleet, now descimated. Imperialist plundering, civil political unrest, violent coups, the Docs, and now this. For country already so shockingly poor (and surrounded by so much wealth... a fact that to me seems equal parts shameful and heartbreaking), the devestation has been truly catastrophic. Words really fall short, but if it is possible to taking anything good from all of this then it has to be the way that, while governments have procrastinated, people have rallied, and have dug deep to give what they can. And even now, more than two weeks later, small miracles are still happening. Yesterday, a little girl was pulled from the rubble. She had survived by drinking bathwater...
J.D. Salinger died on Wednesday, aged 91. Catcher In The Rye made him, of course, sold in the tens of millions necessary to keep him in the reclusive style to which he wanted to be accustomed, but the one that did it for me was his brilliant collection of stories, 'For Esme - with Love and Squalor' (published as 'Nine Stories' I think, in the US). It was these stories that put him on the shelf in my mind with Hemingway, Updike, Flannery O'Connor and a few select others. I reread those stories all the time, and they really are beautifully crafted.
Salinger was a good one. In these times, when everything seems to be style over substance, his work resonates, and if Catcher put him in a position to follow his dreams then he certainly did so with vigor. Down the years, rumour had it that he continued to write every day, that he was piling up hordes of work, including at least two complete novels. If those rumours had any basis at all in truth, maybe some of it will begin to surface now...
Here in my own untidy garret, the graft continues. I've been writing, which is what I'm supposed to be doing. I have a nice piece of novel written, as well as some new short stories.
2010 started with a bit of a bang for me, actually: I got word from Ann Luttrell in the Triskel Arts Centre in Cork that their application to somebody or other has been successful and that I, along with a few other Irish writers, will be attending the 11th International Conference on the Short Story in English, to be held this coming June in the sunny climes of Toronto. Exciting news? Stunning would be more on the nose.
January brought with it some nice acceptance notices too (we'll ignore the usual and inevitable slew of rejections, shall we?). So, work forthcoming in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine (a paying gig - how nice!), the Los Angeles Review and the Southeast Review. Also, I'm thrilled to have made it onto the shortlist for the 1st Annual Writing Spirit Award. The winner will be announced soon, so I'm keeping everything snugly crossed...
Finally, for now:
If anyone gets a look at this and is feeling like they need something to read during these dark wintery evenings, they might give a thought to picking up a copy of my latest book, In Too Deep. Shameless plug here, but I heard from the publishers recently that sales are limping along at a nearly legless pace and I suppose I must do what I can, when I can:
Here it is on Amazon.co.uk
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Too-Deep-other-short-stories/dp/1856356337

And here, for Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/Too-Deep-other-short-stories/dp/1856356337

Reading In September

The Munster Literature Centre have announced the line-up for this year's Frank O'Connor Festival (check out www.munsterlit.ie for full details).
I'm scheduled to read at the School of Music in Union Quay (Cork...) at 7 p.m. on Friday, 18th September, sharing the bill with Simon Van Booy, one of the shortlisted writers for this year's Frank O'Connor Award.
I don't do many public readings, tending as I do to turn into a quivering mess when stood in front of expectant faces, but it will offer a chance at some (much needed) publicity for my book of stories, In Too Deep, and I suppose at the very least it will be an experience. Please come along if you can...
The line-up for the entire festival looks pretty good, actually. Some middle- to heavyweight hitters will be on show and it should make for a pretty good week, all things considered. Also on the Friday, at 4 p.m. in the City Library, Nuala Ní Chonchúir will be officially launching her third collection of short stories, Nude.
Wait, let me clarify. It's not that she'll be launching her new collection in the nude; that's just the name of the book. Nude. Got it? Good.

A Brief Skim

A very quick blog entry today... So much going on, so little time!
Pretty good week, actually, all things considered. It has rained more or less constantly, which always helps the writing cause. I find rainy days to be perfect for contemplating life and all its many twists. Yesterday, I started a story that has filled me with hope. No one else might ever like a word of it but I'm loving every minute spent slaving over it. Don't you just love when that happens?
Also found time this week for a great James Taylor concert, and this morning I was interviewed by the wonderful poet/songwriter, Cliff Wedgebury, on Cork's CUH-FM. We talked about (and listened to) music, and we discussed my new collection, 'In Too Deep', as well as writing in general. A surprisingly enjoyable experience, actually...
Finally, tomorrow I'm off to Dublin to catch one of my childhood heroes, Bruce Springsteen. He will be rocking the RDS and I'll be there to swallow every syllable of his gospel.
This has been just a brief skim of a nice week. I'll delve a little deeper just as soon as I get a minute to spare.

Book-Of-The-Month at the Book Centre

Some good news... 'In Too Deep' is to be named The Book Centre's book-of-the-month for July. The Book Centre is a chain of bookshops around Kilkenny, Waterford and a few other east coast towns (not sure exactly where else, but will find out). Last year, they ran 'In Exile' as their book-of-the-month and evidently did well enough with it to want to repeat the experiment. I'm thrilled to bits!
Actually, I find the idea of strangers walking into a bookshop or going online and buying my book to be astonishing and not a little incredible. It's a little easier to understand people you know going out to buy it, but for a stranger to do so is slightly mind-boggling!
The book got a nice bit of coverage in the Evening Echo (Cork's nightly gossip-Bible) on Monday night, and hopefully there will be some more to come. It stands to reason that people will never buy the book if they are unaware of its existence. A few cringe-worthy pictures of me have already surfaced, though, so there is a price to pay...

In Too Deep

Mercier Press asked me to post this on the blog. It's a link that will take anyone interested in purchasing a copy of my new collection, 'In Too Deep' straight to their website. Orders are dealt with in a prompt fashion and postage is free for Irish customers.

http://www.mercierpress.ie/cartage.html?main_page=product_book_info&products
_id=461&zenid=53i6e320retqft3v21lkumgd87&cartage_alias=cartage

Also, for the Cork-based (or Cork-bound), signed copies can be purchased in both Waterstones and Easons...

In Too Deep

Yesterday morning at 11 a.m., at The South County pub in Douglas, my new book, 'In Too Deep', published by Mercier Press, was launched onto an unsuspecting (and probably uncaring) world. We had a nice little get-together, very informal, tea and scones for a crowd of about twenty (mostly press), losts of pictures taken and hands shaken.
Thank God it's over...
Actually, even though I've had some copies for the past few weeks, it is only now beginning to feel real. The book came out really well, and I'm thrilled with it. Now, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. The local papers were all in attendance at the press launch, so hopefully I will get some much needed publicity, but other than that, I suppose it's just a matter of sitting back and waiting for some (hopefully good) reviews to appear.
In a strange way, I feel a little detached from it all. 'In Too Deep', as far as I am concerned, was done and dusted six months or so ago. Now, I'm already neck-deep in other things, other stories desperate to be written.
So, if anyone feels like buying a copy (PLEASE DO!!!), the book should be available from all good bookshops. Alternatively, and with the absolute minimum of fuss, you can get it from Amazon:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Too-Deep-Other-Short-Stories/dp/1856356337/

Happy reading!

Buy A Book

Well, I've just received some copies of my new book, 'In Too Deep', and I must say that the thrill of actually holding the thing in my hands has been more than worth the struggle. Mercier Press have done a beautiful job on the design and it really feels like a high-quality piece of work.
Anyone who might be eager (or curious...) for a sneak preview of the cover can check it out at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Too-Deep-Other-Short-Stories/dp/1856356337/
'In Too Deep' will be launched on the unsuspecting public over the next couple of weeks...
Lately, everyone has been feeling some of the financial squeeze brought on by the grip of that good old buzz-word, 'recession'. Last week, while reading Vanessa Gebbie's blog (Vanessa is a fine writer, by the way, with an excellent collection of stories, Words From A Glass Bubble, that really cannot be recommended enough) I stumbled across a statement posted by Salt, one of Britain's lesser-known publishing houses, who specialise in short story collections. With little or nothing in the way of arts council funding, they rely desperately on book sales to keep afloat. The past year, though, has seen a dramatic downturn in revenue, and now they are really struggling. As a (more or less) last-gasp effort, they started the 'Just One Book Campaign' (follow this link: http://www.saltpublishing.com/blogs/confidential.php?itemid=632 to read all the gory details).
Thankfully, their call to arms seems to be showing dividends, but it should act as a warning to everyone. The publishing industry is fickle, and it is the independents that keep the big houses honest. They are in constant need of support (my own publishers, Mercier Press, just as much as Salt), and the best way that readers can help is to take a look at their catalogues, pick out something they like, and buy a book.

PJ O'Connor Radio Drama Awards

Lately, I've been feeling as blue as B.B. King. I'm putting in the hours, slaving through the research for my novel and occasionally interrupting myself to bloodlet a few words of half-conceived ideas for stories, but the clouds have massed above my head and the rejections are piling up around me at a frenzied rate. My new book, In Too Deep, is coming out soon but my confidence is in the gutter just now and I can't even begin to imagine who might pay out hard-earn coin for the privilege of reading it.
And then, yesterday afternoon, a ray of light poked its welcome head through the gloom. I answered the phone to a message from RTE, informing me that, for the second year running, I had made the shortlist of the PJ O'Connor Radio Drama Award. A couple of months ago, like so many other hopefuls, I polished up the manuscript of my second ever 28-minute radio play, found a title that seemed to fit ('A Game Of Confidence'), printed it out and sent it off.
Last year, when my play, 'Deliver Us From Evil', was shortlisted, I took myself off to Dublin 4, sat through a nice ceremony and drowned my considerable nerves in too much red wine. I came away empty-handed (and light headed). This year, though, things will be different. Apparently, in an effort to tighten their belts and shoelaces, RTE, Ireland's national broadcaster, have done away with such formalities and have set aside a date, the 8th of June, on which they will simply announce the winning entries. A relief, actually. I don't think I could stand another crippling ceremonial disappointment, and I know that I can't spare the cost of a train to Dublin and an exorbitantly overpriced hotel room.
So, roll on the 8th of June. I'll be crossing everything up and down my person that is even remotely possible to cross. And I'll be tuned in to the Arts Show, desperately hoping against hope to hear my name announced, from the cramped comfort of my attic in Cork.

Syzygy

I received a cheque in this morning's post, for 'Sygygy', a story of mine that appeared in the Vernal Equinox edition of the wonderful Cezanne's Carrot (which you can read at http://www.cezannescarrot.org/vol4iss2/syzygy.html if you should feel so inclined). 'Syzygy' was a story was one that I really enjoyed writing, and I was very pleased with the result. Last year, it received an honourable mention in Glimmer Train's Open Fiction contest, and the good people at Cezanne's Carrot have named it an Editor's Choice story. Mercier Press, my publishers, must like it too because it is scheduled for inclusion in my forthcoming collection, 'In Too Deep'.
To be honest, I've never been too enamoured with trying to publish stories online. With a print copy you have something tangible, you know? Online stuff doesn't really offer the same sense of satisfaction, at least in my opinion. But I have a lot of stories written, and at the moment all I really want is to get the stuff out there. Beggars can't be choosers, and all that.
I must admit, thought, that I am slowly changing my mind about online submissions. Cezanne's Carrot is one of my favourites. I also enjoy (and have published stories with) Underground Voices, and of course the likes of Eclectica and Narrative Magazine has some incredible content. Anyway, this morning's cheque amounted to the princely sum of twenty five dollars. It allows me to buy a ream of paper, and it will pay for a few stamps. The encouragement is the real prize, though, and the way things are at the moment I'll take and lap up all that comes my way.

Starting Work on a Novel ...

This week I've started work on a novel. Well, when I say started, what I mean to say is that I have committed myself to doing it. The idea is in place, and I know the story that I want to tell, so the rest should be easy, right? Right?
The problem is that I have been down this road before. And I know that the idea is the least of it. I already have a 90,000 word novel wallowing in rejection in a box under the bed, a novel that I was certain the world was going to love. Unfortunately, the publishers didn't. At least, not enough to publish it. They say you learn something from everything you write but 90,000 words worth of learning makes for an awfully long and harsh lesson. Now, if it was just the one book tucked away with the dust bunnies then I suppose that wouldn't be so bad. Call it an apprenticeship, and move on, right? Except, also hidden away are a couple of aborted 100-plus page manuscripts and a short (60,000 word) Western novel of the almost-but-not-quite-pulp variety that I have since discovered doesn't really interest too many people in the publishing game anymore.
What I take from such previous efforts (doing my best Eric Idle and looking on the bright side ...) is the knowledge that I can actually complete a full-length work. A full-length publishable work might be another matter, though.
So, I am in the research stage. Set a millennia in the past, I am hoping to tell the story of a semi-historical (or should that be pseudo-historical) but much overlooked Irish figure. In my dreams, I see the book as a James Michener crossed with Morgan Llywelyn. The bones of a story are in place, typically full of contradictions, which I hope will allow me the freedom to embellish to beat the band. I'm equal parts nervous and excited to be starting on such a venture but I feel that with the publication, this coming June, of my short story collection, 'In Too Deep', I have bought myself a few months or so to at least give it a try.
Discipline will be the key to getting finished. Daily word count targets are my way of getting a workable first draft, 1000 words, limited tea breaks, no excuses. The difficult part is actually getting started. For now, the research part of this game is enjoyable, and necessary, but I know that after a while I'll probably start using it as an excuse. The sooner I can actually start writing, the better ...

Mornin', y'awll!

Okay, here we go...
First of all, I suppose an introduction is in order. So, here it is:
My name is Billy O'Callaghan, I live in an attic in Cork (in Ireland, for those in distant lands) and am trying hard to write my way to sanity. Apparently, I still have quite a distance to go.
Last year, I received the boost that all us poor misguided creatures (writers...) crave, when a collection of my short stories, entitled 'In Exile', was published by Mercier Press, Ireland's oldest independent publishing house. Not that very many people noticed, of course (check the Amazon sales rankings if you require confirmation). There was no juggernaut promotional campaign, not for a small first printing (something like 2000 copies, still not sold through). The book scored a few pleasant reviews, not exactly cloud nine stuff but enough to set the pulses fluttering, and then that was more or less it.
Mercier, though, must have liked something about the book, because they have decided to gamble on me again. Sometime this coming June, a second collection, 'In Too Deep', will appear in bookshops up and down the country, and across the world (well, I can dream ...). I'm not expecting miracles, but hey, you never know, do you?
Getting published might sound like I've got it made but the reality, unfortunately, is very, VERY different. Still, it has been a struggle almost beyond words to get even this far. I might be merely a minnow in a great unfriendly ocean but at least I'm out there, and trying my damnedest to swim.
This blog will be my attempt at describing life here on my lowly rung of the writing ladder, far away from the highs of bestsellers lists and appearances on Oprah, Tuburdy's Book Club, or Richard and Judy (or whatever it might be that they call themselves, these days). My world (like that of the majority of struggling writers) is a world of multiple rejections, of having to cope with the painful belly-kick that comes from not making the shortlist of whichever short story competition has held my hopes and dreams in its grasp for the past several months. The occasional successes, when they bother to come, tend to be paid in pittances at best but more likely in a solitary contributor's copy of some nice-looking magazine or journal that perhaps a hundred people will ever bother to read. A hundred if I'm lucky.
What you will find here probably won't be pretty, but it will be reality. We can't all be Dave Eggers or Jhumpa Lahiri, we can only be ourselves.

Now, it's sherbet time ...