So I’ve buried Micky Biggs. He’s had a good old Cockney funeral, jellied eels followed by a knees up down the Old Kent Road with someone playing the Old Joanna and everyone singing “My Old Man’s A Dustman”. It was ruthless but I had to kill off my biggest baby.
When I first started writing Micky I had even tried to do it in a cockney accent, with plenty of rhyming slang, but I’m not sure it really worked. He had a lot of back story in an effort to develop the character for the reader, but it seems it only served to slow down the plot.
So it’s bye bye Micky, hello Gareth Prince.
Gareth has already existed in an earlier guise. In the first version of Sex & Rucks and Sausage Rolls he was a bit of a maverick reporter. I liked him a lot. He had lots of strange ways about him, and was a former member of an ‘invented’ Welsh terrorist organisation The Sons of Delilah. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to shelve the original Gareth. I might bring out a similar character in a future tome, change the name or whatever, and I certainly aim to use the Sons of Delilah again. Still, they are on the backburner for now.
The next big question is: who should tell the story? I had written Sex & Rucks in the first person. Everything was from Micky’s viewpoint. But that makes it difficult because the reader only see things through his eyes and learns things when he is told something by one of the other characters. It can get you into a bit of a tangle when plotting. Better then, perhaps, to be able to follow each character so that you can always be where the action is.
In the new book I decide that’s what I’ll do. This is what my critique said…
The plot? Well from the feedback I’ve had it meanders too much from comedy, to internal newspaper politics, to gruesome gangland thriller. Someone a bit less pig-headed than me would probably give in after this… character wrong, plot wrong, no genre, even some of the settings are wrong. But I’ve written 100,000 words – surely they can’t all be shit!
So, it is a new beginning and it’s time to introduce Gareth Prince to the world. He is grumpy, reluctant, in fact he doesn’t seem to have much to be happy about, having upped sticks from his London home and moved down to Cardiff. He’s doing it for a reason, but rather than put it straight out there, it is going to be a slow burn to learn all there is about him.
Here’s a teaser though… Gareth Prince isn’t even his real name.