I just published a new book yesterday.
My friend Jim Graham had been writing a series about a guy with the unfortunate nickname of “Scat” (Real name: Sebastian Scatkiewicz). He was a retired marine who more-or-less accidentally starts a civil war and ends up (As Jim put it) as the fulcrum about which the history of the galaxy turned. It called on a lot of stuff from his time in the British Army. Good military space fiction with political intrigue.
He was about 4/5ths of the way through one of his novels when he discovered he was terminally ill. He asked me if I would please finish the book for him, and of course I said yes. I had hoped to have it done before he passed, and he’d thought he’d had some more time left than he did, but that ended up being the last time we spoke. Jim passed away less than a month later.
His widow Vivien sent me his manuscript and notes, and I got cracking.
He’d written two “Main” novels in the series (“Scat” and “Army of Souls,”) and intended to write a third to bookend the series. (About which nobody knows anything, AFAICT). As the”Army” takes place about a decade after “Scat,” he intended to write a bunch of shorter novels set between the books. I call these “Interquels.”
I’m gonna be honest, it was a little daunting. My normal method is to just sit down and sprawl out crap as it comes to me, hence the hokey-jokey herky-jerky style of writing. It works for my stuff, and Jim liked my stuff, but it didn’t fit him at all. I wanted his last book to be *his* last book. I didn’t want it to be 4/5ths his book and then – zang – it switches to crazy Randy bullcrap, right?
So I reread the previous books, I took ridiculous amounts of notes, and I tried to match his style as closely as a could. I found I tended to overthink things. “How would Jim phrase this? Would he say it this way, or would he reverse those two words?” Etc. This isn’t be complaining, by the way. I don’t feel put upon at all. I feel honored to have been chosen to do it, and glad that I was actually able to make good on my promise to my friend. I also had help in the form of the Reverend Oliver Harrison, Church of England, who was of immeasurable assistance in translating my portion of the book from American to English. He went through it and painstakingly identified places where Americanisms had to be replaced by Anglicisms. (Remember, Jim was British) I didn’t want the tone to switch from “Stiff upper lip” to “howdy, howdy, howdy, I’m a cowboy,” you know? And overall I tried to match Jim’s tone as much as possible.
Also, as with *everything* I’ve ever done, it simply would not have been possible without David Teach. He’s my George Martin. Mad love, man!
Anyway: I don’t really consider this “My” book (Though they were insistent that my name be on the cover), I consider it Jim’s book, and I was just a pinch hitter here. If anyone chooses to read it, and you like it? That’s all Jim’s doing. If you read it and hate it, that’s my fault. Also for my fans (If any) it might be a little hard to follow since it takes place in between books 2 and 4 in a very involved series.
Still and all, I think it’s a good book, and I think I did a pretty good job with it, and I think the points where it switches from him to me and back again are pretty seamless. It’d be fun to know if his fans can spot the sutures, so to speak. I hope to hear back from some of ’em.
Phew. So now that that’s done, it’s time to go back to my own normal weirdo-chaotic-goofball-nightmare stuff.
(By the way, this was my 2nd co-authored book, and my 9th book overall)