The words are out in the world ...

... and they no longer belong to me.

I don't know who said that, might have been me, could have been any number of authors whose books finally get published.

It's the realisation one experiences when a book is released into the wild; when it ceases to belong to the writer and is in the hands of a reader and their interpretation of the words.  It's that moment when the imagination of someone else is applied to the story - the landscape, the look of each character, the nuance implied in the language; they might spring from the page into someone's head as something completely different to that intended.

A Little Something To Hide publishes today, 1479 days after the first word hit the page.  On that first day, 1 November 2020, in response to the call of NaNoWriMo, I wrote 356 words.  Not many of those survived to the tenth and final draft.

Stacked on my desk is a pile of books measuring 46 centimetres, representing the various iterations that led me to the point I've reached today.  I thought it was ready with the one sitting at the bottom.  An array of folks suggested otherwise, offering kind words and correctives, indicating that perhaps I needed to work the manuscript a little harder; restructure the narrative, hone chapters, drop passages, re-engineer some of the stories.  Not all of it was easy to hear, but every piece proved valuable in some sense, leading, I hope, to an improved outcome.

Obviously, I'm not the one to judge that, my opinion might be influenced by just a shade of bias.  If pushed, however, I would suggest it's a bloody good read - one of the best books hitting the market in 2024.  Possibly even, the Christmas present for which you will receive the highest degree of praise and thanks.  Just imagine the kudos you'll get for being the one to introduce someone to such a treasure.  I'll leave you to dream.

Alternatively, I could make the dream a reality by telling you exactly where you can get hold of such a gem.  It's available at all good bookstores named Amazon and you can get it by clicking HERE.

If, however, you are minded to support independent booksellers - and there are few nobler causes - you could pop into your local book shop and ask for a copy.  If they're out of stock, they'll be able to order a copy to arrive in a few days.

There's also a companion piece that goes with it, exclusively on Amazon, called Nothing Left To Hide, which provides insights into the motivation behind the book and each of the characters.  It's full of spoilers, so don't sample that before you've read the main book, unless you're one of those barbarians that reads the final chapter of a book first - why, oh why!  I blame the parents.

Whatever the case, I'd love you to grab a copy of A Little Something To Hide and join the passengers on the road to Albuquerque.  You might recognise some of the people you're sharing the bus with and be delighted you're travelling together.  Others, you'll hope, will never have the opportunity to sit alongside you again.  Either way, you might find yourself in for a little surprise.

Thanks for reading, I hope you'll climb aboard.

Craig

=============

A Little Something To Hide

Some people want to take their secrets to the grave.
On the Briscola Coach Service to Albuquerque, that’s just not possible.

A Little Something To Hide is an exploration of the human condition.  Every traveller on the Briscola Coach Service believes they’re harbouring a secret that none of the world can see.  Some secrets are darker than others and none of them are truly hidden.  Climb aboard to learn more and remember, never trust the person you’re next to, no matter how sweet they look.

“... remarkable insight into the lives of these characters, aptly portraying the impact on those characters and their various reactions to the abuses they have suffered.”

Maureen Kelly, Reedsy

=============

Craig Brown is an author living in Newbury.  To follow his work visit craigbrownauthor.com

Facebook/BlueSky/Threads/Twitter/Instagram: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2024
19 November 2024

The end is nigh ...

... and no, I'm not talking about that thing that happened a week ago in the US.

Instead, today's note is about the conclusion to A Little Something To Hide, which as you may know, I've been serialising over the past five months.

Felipe hits the shelves today and his appearance brings to an end the journey from San Francisco to Albuquerque.  I'm not a fan of travelling by coach, but this journey's been different, my fellow passengers have been quite candid about their revelations.

I'm not going to say too much about Felipe here, suffice to say he's one of the 47.8 million foreigners living in the USA today, almost a quarter of whom are undocumented migrants.

When conducting my research into migration to the States, I discovered an interesting snippet of information - undocumented migrants paid $96.7 billion in federal, state and local taxes in 2022, a third of which goes toward funding programmes that they're barred from accessing.  All I'll say about that, is that perhaps a little maths might be useful before too many scream about mass deportations.

To an extent, A Little Something To Hide represents my observations of modern America, which allowed me to explore injustice in multiple guises – fairness often took a seat toward the back of the Briscola coach, possibly because my normally optimistic view of the world disappears when I turn on the news or browse my social media feeds.  At times, it seems as though we’re overwhelmed by the greedy and the cynical, is it any wonder then, that elements of nastiness should make an appearance on the road to Albuquerque.

As an escapee from the Medellín Cartel, Felipe's story reflects the lives of other immigrants arriving in the US for a better life.  As a counter to the narrative that so often spews ill about what the immigrant population brings to a country, I wanted Felipe to be mostly harmless, to exist as no threat to anyone that enters his domain.  He is entirely benign, save for ... well, you'll have to read the book to find out.

Felipe’s story is not an isolated one and despite the hate that is often directed their way, most migrants are hard-working, law-abiding citizens, who contribute to the great diaspora that has shaped the American landscape for generations, and which makes it the rich and vibrant country that we see today.

America has its issues: a polarised nation, extreme gun violence, eye-watering wealth and income inequality, a lack of affordable healthcare for many, and drug addiction to name a few, but it remains an exemplar to many.  Over hundreds of years, peoples from many nations have flocked to the country in search of a better life and the opportunities that few countries are better positioned to provide.  It is a genuine melting-pot, a place like no other, yet how sad is it that inter-generational memories are so short, that those whose ancestors migrated to the country should be so afraid of those that follow in their footsteps.

A Little Something To Hide: Part eleven - Felipe

Felipe was a waif when he fled his home in Medellín to cross the border at Antelope Wells, escaping the cartel’s newly emerging leader.  In the US he embraces his new culture, indulging in a quiet life of fast-food and sedentary practices.  After nearly thirty years he considers himself safe from those he escaped, but does the cartel ever forget those it suspects of betrayal?

=============

Craig Brown is an author living in Newbury.  Discover his serialised novel, 'A Little Something To Hide' at craigbrownauthor.com

Facebook/BlueSky/Threads/Twitter/Instagram: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2024
12 November 2024

With apologies in advance

I'm not particularly bothered that a number of folks have labelled me as ‘woke’.  When one considers that the definition of the word refers to someone as having, or marked by, an active awareness of systemic injustices and prejudices, especially those involving the treatment of ethnic, racial, or sexual minorities, then that’s a badge I’m happy to wear.

The word ‘woke’ is often attributed to Huddie Ledbetter, better known as Lead Belly, who coined the phrase in 1938 as part of an afterword to his recording of ‘Scottsboro Boys’, inviting an alertness to racial prejudice and discrimination.

Today, the use of the word most often occurs as a slur, which to my mind serves to highlight a couple of things.  Either, that the user is taking the word to mean something different than the stated meaning, perhaps redefining it to apply to someone whose views they deem politically correct, an application that on arguable occasions, may have validity, or the intent is to use it as a cudgel with which to bash someone whose opinion differs from theirs, and usually to the detriment of a narrow band of people.

I find this second application invidious; it seeks to apply an element of respectability to what is often an ‘ism’ or a phobia; choose your form: racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia – there are others.  Choosing to argue against such proponents may invite the use of ‘woke’ when they seek to define your views or behaviour.

It enrages me that populist politicians, most notably on the right, use it as a form of dog-whistle, giving it a veneer of respectability while at the same time seeking to appeal to the baser instincts of those they court, stirring fear and hatred against minority or marginalised groups, wilfully preying on ignorance.

While far from being the original manifestation of this form of hatred, arguably one of its worst proponents is Donald Trump.  I rage at the empowerment he has given to white supremacists and the impotence I feel at being unable to do anything about it.

In the penultimate volume of 'A Little Something To Hide' we meet Jimmy, a character that I'm sure all fair-minded people will dislike.  I find him repellent, and having created him, I did a reasonable job of divesting him of redeeming features.  There is nothing to like about Jimmy, you can choose your own adjective/noun combination to describe him - mine can't be uttered before the watershed.

I deliberately wrote Jimmy with no notable character arc; he doesn’t deserve one.  There is no epiphany for Jimmy, no redemption, no recognition that he, and what he stands for, is repugnant.  He exists to highlight that people like him occupy our world, that their views are abhorrent, and that they can be corrupted and persuaded into believing that their thoughts and actions have validity.  Likewise, in their small way, they are capable of corrupting others.

Jimmy is a bloody awful character to read in isolation, my least favourite, but nevertheless he represents a regrettable phenomenon in our world today.  If nothing else, in writing 'A Little Something To Hide' I didn't want to shy away from darker themes, with Jimmy, I've trodden a grim path.  He is a man of ‘…isms’, harbouring them all, baring his prejudices for us to see.

Views such as Jimmy's stem from ignorance.  A lack of understanding and acceptance of other cultures, a willingness to believe in fabricated threats, the superiority of one’s own beliefs.  Many are induced into thinking so by others who prey on their fears, which are more often than not groundless.

Granted, there are some cultural ‘norms’ that I believe to be offensive: the treatment of women in Afghanistan and other oppressive regimes, the persecution of homosexuals in many parts of the world, faith-based discrimination, anti-immigrant sentiment toward vulnerable people fleeing conflict or repression.  There’s more, although I’m conscious of inflicting my belief system at the same time as railing against those with whom I disagree – an exercise in hypocrisy.

There’s a danger of sounding too puritanical, albeit humane, which is where populists seek to exploit the word ‘woke’.  By attaching a connotation to it that those opposed to their views are sympathetic to the evils they promote, woke leaning individuals are deemed to be antithetical to populist beliefs.

It’s a simple and distressingly effective technique.  Populists seek to channel the frustration that some experience from financial hardship against those that have had little to no influence on the social and economic circumstances that led to the adversity.  Populist rhetoric diverts attention from government policy, corporate and oligarchal greed, and other contributing factors which are far more causal to the difficulties that face many individuals and communities.

We should shut off the mouth-pieces, starving the populists like Trump in the US and Nigel Farage in the UK of oxygen, leaving them to wallow in their own pools of toxicity without the platform to poison others.

Rather, let us promote education, tolerance and understanding of other cultures.  Promote sympathetic ears toward the most vulnerable, and be not afraid of that which we know little about, but embrace the different, discover something or someone new that we might be better and richer for the experience.

I apologies for inflicting Jimmy upon you, but thanks for supporting my tales.

A Little Something To Hide: Part ten - Jimmy

Jimmy likes the great American way and all things white.  He’s one of two drivers on the coach and he hates his fellow worker and most of the world.  For fun at weekends, he and his friends don their white robes, quaff a little Rebel Yell, and take their hatred onto Gallup’s streets.

=============

Craig Brown is an author living in Newbury.  Discover his serialised novel, 'A Little Something To Hide' at craigbrownauthor.com

Facebook/BlueSky/Threads/Twitter/Instagram: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2024
29 October 2024

A question of faith

In the acknowledgements to A Little Something To Hide, I thank a dear friend, Paul Cowan, for providing me with his guidance and kindness. I asked Paul to go for a stroll with me to discuss the ideas that I had for writing Simon  Carter’s character.

In my mind, a classic trope of Catholic priests was playing overtime, an unpleasantness percolating that might have found its way to the page had it not been for that walk. When I outlined my plans to Paul, he drew a breath and asked if I really wanted to take that path. He didn’t offer me a position of why I should or shouldn’t, just encouraged me to think on the subject.

After a period of discernment, I changed my mind. It would have been easy to pursue my initial course, but equally, it would have introduced disturbing elements to my novel that I would likely have handled clumsily. A lazy cliché in unskilled hands is an ugly device for telling a story. I chose a different route.

Instead, I sought to pursue a more innocent path, one that takes a word that carries the vilest connotations and explores its Greek roots: broadly, the love of children. What brought me to that position was a reflection on an incident that occurred when my son was a Cub Scout.

To support the leadership, I enrolled as a parent volunteer, undertaking elements of training and undergoing a Criminal Records Bureau (CRB) check into my background. Naturally, the training had a heavy emphasis on the safeguarding of children, ensuring that participants fully understand appropriate conduct.

What the training didn’t do, however, was to curb my instincts on the occasion when my son hurt himself during one of the games. As his father, his upset tugged at a powerful emotional cord and I comforted him with a hug, a perfectly acceptable thing for a parent to do when faced with their distressed child. In short order, equilibrium was restored and I didn’t think any more of the incident.

At the end of the evening, the Cub Leader asked if he could have a word. Although I could sense his awkwardness, he managed a difficult situation well, saying that although it was my son that I was comforting, administering a hug was not something that I should do in the role of an Assistant Cub Leader, noting that if someone unaware of our familial relationship witnessed the interaction, there was a risk that they might allege inappropriate behaviour. He also added that while such a complaint would be resolved quickly, a danger existed that residue might stick.

I was horrified at the suggestion and aggrieved that I had to explain to my son that if something similar occurred, I would be unable to provide the same level of comfort. It saddened me that we live in a world where we have to curb our nurturing instincts, but I understood the rationale, as much as the reason for it pained me.

In cogitating Simon’s character, I was reminded of that event and the injury I felt from the rebuke for having comforted my child. I confess, I felt angry that the views expressed by others could cause irreparable damage in observance of a totally innocent act.

And so, I sought to turn the trope on its head to deliver a story that speaks of the power of innocence and how one man recognises that it might be the only thing able to preserve his faith in God.

A Little Something To Hide: Part nine - Simon

Faith is a withering construct for Father Simon Carter, a Catholic priest who can see God only in the eyes of children. When the youngest in the Killalea family faces a terminal illness, it may be more than Father Simon and his faith can take.

=============

Craig Brown is an author living in Newbury.  Discover his serialised novel, 'A Little Something To Hide' at craigbrownauthor.com

BlueSky/Threads/Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2024
15 October 2024

A terribly lovely girl

If you’ve read any of the previous volumes in the A Little Something To Hide series, you will know that there is an origin piece that sits at the end of each story which I use to explain the background to each character.

Those snippets often form the basis of these blogs, albeit with the spoiler risks removed. To read the full origin piece before the story would be like hearing the results of The Traitors before you’ve had a chance to watch the episode on catch-up. Don’t do it – you’ll annoy yourself.

Equally, I don’t want to annoy you, so when I sat down to craft this note, I discovered that what I’ve written for Jeannie’s origin gives the entire game away and would be damnably frustrating if you later chose to browse her tale.

That leaves me with a foreshortened blog post on this launch day for Part eight – Jeannie, so I thought I’d share a little about some other work. There are three volumes left in ALSTH with which I’m still tinkering: Simon (a Catholic priest), Jimmy (a white supremacist) and Felipe (a Colombian national who fled the drug cartels) – I’ll let you know more about each of them closer to their publication dates.

While I’ve really enjoyed the process of serialising ALSTH, what I’m most excited about is returning to my next book, Dignity. I wrote the first two chapters back in 2003 on a flight between New York and Los Angeles. It then atrophied for sixteen years before I resurrected it in March 2019 at the start of my full-time writing career.

A Little Something To Hide intervened as a more pressing volume to release to the world, but Dignity has nibbled at me the whole time, the third draft mocks from the shelf behind me, insisting it will make me sneeze when I finally blow the dust from its pages.

Some time has passed since I last looked at her in April, so I’m really looking forward to reacquainting myself with the story. It’s inspired by the Deacon Blue song of the same name, a song that stirred memories of my childhood in New Zealand where the book is set. Just writing this is enough to motivate me to pick up the red pen for the next round of changes. Of course, I’ve no idea when it will be ready to face the world, but be assured, I’m tapping away at the keys.

=============

Craig Brown is an author living in Newbury.  Discover his serialised novel, 'A Little Something To Hide' at craigbrownauthor.com

BlueSky/Threads/Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2024
1 October 2024

Never let the truth get in the way ...

The next instalment of 'A Little Something To Hide' is out tomorrow and I can't wait for you to meet Granny Mac.

Much like the trance that Gracie MacDonald found herself in on the coach to Albuquerque, I think I may have written her story in something of a fugue state. I don’t recall much of what led to her being. My original note read:

Granny MacTavish – going to Albuquerque to see her grandchildren. She lost her husband Albert, and has been trying to fill the void ever since.

I’m reasonably certain that had I pursued those thoughts, Granny MacTavish (and thank God I scrubbed that name) would lead a life of stunning mediocrity; a soul searching for a cause, unable to find one, and meandering through the pages of her chapter with a character arc that flatlined – the clacking of her knitting needles being the highlight of an otherwise mundane story.

Beneath that note, and added much later, was another. Briefer, but arguably more intriguing:

Outlandish storyteller or afraid of the truth?

I’m still not sure which she is, but I realise now that the seed above found fertile territory and developed into a story that lingers until the end of the novel.

In developing her as a fantasist, I was reminded of a companion from my primary school years. His real name shall remain a mystery, but for the purposes of this account, let’s call him Boris – it seems a suitable moniker to attach to someone skilled in the art of mendacity.

According to Boris, life was full of adventures, almost all of which were facilitated by a mix of uncles and cousins whose wealth and exuberance appeared limitless. As we recounted our weekends to each other in the playground, speaking perhaps of a visit to the friends of our parents, or a trip to Percy’s Reserve for a bit of blackberry picking, Boris would amuse us with the extraordinary tales from his weekend.

He might tell us of water-skiing on the harbour behind his Uncle Carl’s speedboat, the hunting of wild pigs in the Ōrongorongo Valley with his cousin Bruce, the discovery of gold nuggets in Marlborough’s Wakamarina River on an overnight trip to South Island with his Uncle Mike.

There was always a story with Boris, always remarkable, and always, as we chose to believe, entirely invented.

Three things should be noted though about Boris and his tales. One, we never challenged the veracity of his claims. We simply allowed him to tell us a story that was more interesting than any of ours from the previous weekend.

Two, he had a seemingly infinite number of relatives, all of them male, and all of them wrestling to keep Boris entertained. I suspect his mother spent a significant proportion of her time managing both his diary and the disappointment of those of his relations who failed to incorporate Boris into their weekend plans.

Three, there was always just enough plausibility in everything he said that his experiences might have been true. If that was the case, Boris’s childhood is unparalleled. No child in history has led a more exciting or varied life than our former school chum.

I don’t know what’s happened to Boris. I hope that he’s putting his adventures on paper to create a barely believable memoir, or more likely, producing entertaining fiction born from a highly developed imagination. Either way, if I should ever meet him again, I may not believe what he tells me about his life.

Granny Mac emerged from Boris; a teller of tales whose invention was designed to mask a humdrum existence, taking embellishment to ever greater levels until the foundations of her stories were usurped by the myth that followed.

It may be why I remember so little about writing her chapter. As writers of fiction, we authors inhabit a world of make-believe, where any truths that we might harbour in our writing are veiled in a narrative that we seek to divorce from ourselves. Granny Mac’s knitting machine and the baby clothes and jerseys that she produced from it could just as easily represent my mother’s efforts. The whirr of a carriage zipping along a needle bed is etched in my memory, an observation I plucked from my home life. Unlike Granny Mac’s boys though, we didn’t need to conceal my mother’s knitting; she was a recognised figure at local markets, happy to sell her output. What we weren’t allowed to reveal though, was that some of the items on sale stemmed from the efforts of my father, whose war-time experience as a boy meant learning to knit socks, just like Gracie’s mother. His creations, which extended to other items of knitwear, were attributed to my mother. My sisters had a rule to observe in their teenage years, if they were inviting friends to visit in the evening, they had to forewarn my father so that he had time to conceal whatever fashions he was creating.

And so, Granny Mac’s choice of endeavour and her concealment of the practice is an amalgam of my parents, a microcosm from within the Brown household that found its way into a Boris-like character’s story. But that’s where it ends, the invention and the nefarious practices are Granny Mac’s alone – I mean, did you ever see me driving a Dodge Camaro?

=============

Craig Brown is an author living in Newbury.  Discover his serialised novel, 'A Little Something To Hide' at craigbrownauthor.com

BlueSky/Threads/Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2024
16 September 2024

Trying not to be creepy

Volume five in the 'A Little Something To Hide' series is out today.  After reviewing the final draft before publishing, Mrs B said it was her least favourite part.  When I asked why, she suggested that 'Tim & Briony' is a little like 'My Dad Wrote A Porno' but without the pots and pans.

I'm not sure how to feel about that.  Rocky Flintstone, the pseudonymous author of the Belinda Blinks series on which the podcast is based, may not be lauded by the literati, but his son, Jamie Morton, decided to share his prose with his best mates, James Cooper and Alice Levine, in their brilliantly funny podcast.  James, it seems, has overcome his initial horror at his father's pornographic musings.  I'm not sure Mrs B will be able to say the same.

That said, what I've written isn't overtly graphic, and I also suggest that it's unlikely to be included in the pantheon of the pornographic, but that doesn't prevent Mrs B from wondering what the heck is going on in my head.  I'll allow you to judge, although in my defence, like much of what I've written in 'A Little Something To Hide', what landed on the page was not always what I intended. 

In my original notes for Tim, his story began with him happily married to Alicia, both huge Breaking Bad fans, planning a trip to Albuquerque to visit the locations where they filmed the show.  I recorded other details too, none of which make a great deal of sense to me now, although I think perhaps I intended to provide him with a backstory that involved a hit and run while under the influence.

According to my notes, which have no mention of Briony, Tim and his wife concealed the death of a vagrant on a strip mall after Alicia tried to stop Tim driving three-hundred yards from a bar to their roadside motel.  The plot didn’t work for me, neither did the name Alicia, when I found it too close phonetically to the name of Rosa’s favoured daughter, so Briony came to visit.

When I changed the character’s name from Alicia, her personality changed.  Prior to becoming Briony, I had Alicia measured as a dowdy woman; a little short, carrying too much weight, fastidious around the house, everything tidied away before the dust had a chance to settle, not that dust featured in a house belonging to Alicia Bovary, her practices were far too virtuous to allow the intrusion.  Cleaning was her forte, so covering the tracks of her husband’s felony drew upon her talents.

It soon became apparent to me that Briony was the antithesis of Alicia and with her character’s transformation, Tim’s needed to follow, and I began envisaging the awkward young man that found his way onto the page.

Tim’s fantasies, played out in the confines of his imagination and his room, became a surprising reality when he met Briony.  I suspect there are fantasists out there, entertaining similar visions, who wonder what it was that piqued Briony’s interest in that unremarkable man.  I don’t want to disappoint them, but I’m not entirely certain that what happens to Tim occurs in the real world.

Having created an improbable situation for Tim, however, I discovered a freedom to create scenarios where the visions of the fantasist occur on the page as real events, developing faster than our protagonist is able to invent, leading Tim to think that perhaps he is more of a man than we, or even he, perceives.  I had fun building up his ego, only for him to realise that he had little to do with the circumstances within which he found himself, failing to appreciate that he was little more than a willing participant in someone else’s story.

As for Alicia Bovary, I have no idea what happened to her.  I believe she's loitering in a draw at Chez Brown, knocking to come out occasionally when I wander into the room, reminding me that perhaps there might be just another story to be told.  Either that, or she's telling me to stop being a creep.

=============
Craig Brown is an author living in Newbury.  Discover his serialised novel, 'A Little Something To Hide' at craigbrownauthor.com

BlueSky/Threads/Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2024
20 August 2024