A Series (Perhaps) of Tat - cont.

PART II: targets – one must reach one’s targets


The two and half readers who happened upon Part I of this potentially occasional nonsense actually seemed to have read the thing. One even passed comment on it that was not entirely derogatory (though I may not have been reading between the lines). Spurred on by this overwhelming reaction, here’s Part II.

The title of this snippet may sound like a local government department mantra, but we are told by publishers that it is of increasing importance to ‘know’ (or rather, attempt to predict) a book’s commercial potential: where does it fit into a publisher’s current list, or its back-catalogue? More importantly, where does it slot into the marketplace? In other words, if we’re being blunt, how will it make the publisher any money?

By way of example, a friend of a friend &c. &c. told me that she had heard how the publishers of Twilight thought, on reviewing the manuscript: ‘Yes, not bad, this. We might shift a few thousand copies. Only a small print-run, I think, but it’ll make a few quid for us in a niche kind of way’ (I paraphrase, I believe). Result? BAM. Stratospheric worldwide sales of more than 100 million copies; a series of blockbuster Hollywood films; every single one of Stephenie Meyers’s books an almost instant bestseller. (Perhaps now she can afford a few more ‘e’s in her name.)

So publishers don’t always get it right. The Twilight example is, of course, a rare example of them getting it wrong with extremely positive results. Paying Sarah Palin US $7 million for her autobiography? I believe I have already reserved my seat on the fence.

It has been often said (by my damned publishers no less, the swines), that Pistols defies any kind of categorisation. It doesn’t really fit into any genre as neatly as one might hope. It’s not really crime. It’s not historical fiction in the traditional sense. God knows it’s not literary fiction. And it’s certainly not an autobiography (*winks*).

Yes, I like to think that it might raise the odd giggle amongst readers. So I guess it might charitably be classed as ‘comedy’ – but what kind of comedy? Obviously not chick lit. But not a farce either. Hmmm. I like to think of it as a caper. And not in a pickled berry kind of way.

Part I of this tat looked at inspirations behind the writing of Pistols. The Flashman novels, Fleming and Bonfiglioli all had their parts to play. In its review of Pistols (as a result of its hitting the editors’ desk on Authonomy back in May 2009), Harper Collins said that this type of market – the Flashman-like caper novel – was ‘heavily competitive’. They mentioned James Delingpole’s Coward series as being in a similar vein. Mark Gatiss’s Lucifer Box novels probably also fall into that category.

In terms of aiming at a particular demographic with Pistols, as I said in Part I of this bilge, from the start I set out to write the type of book that I, as a reader, enjoy, and that I always find very hard to find in the shops. Kyril Bonfiglioli came closest to my ideal type of writing in that respect, and he’s not exactly widely-read. A crying shame, of course, and if I had my way he’d be on the national curriculum in a flash. No wonder the country’s on its back, as Hammersley might say.

In my mind’s eye Pistols’ core target market was always going to be classically-educated tossers (in the most charming sense of the word, naturally); male; late twenties/early thirties who like adventure and a bit of intrigue, and with a taste for fine dining, fine women and fine tailoring.

Their age-group? I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess anywhere from 16 upwards. I’d hope.

I honestly didn’t think that women would really like Pistols. As an extreme, some of them might even aver that the book is sexist, that Hammersley himself is an invidious chauvinist and entirely divorced from the notion of sexual equality. I must say I was pleasantly surprised to learn that almost from the start of the book being made available to the public in one form or other, women readers seemed to engage with and buy into it as much as the men. And that was rather wonderful.

I shall leave it to two of Pistols’ very earliest and very loveliest of readers, Ms Noelle Pierce and Ms Val-Rae Christensen, both women of discernment, wit and charm, to sum up our hero respectively:

“In addition to being similar to his dear creator [the author makes no comment], Hammersley is a quick thinker and a realistic hero (he actually gets *hurt* in fights). I rather like him more than James Bond. And that's saying a LOT.”

“Hugo? Darling Hugo? *Thud, pant, thud* Well, what is there to say about him, really? He pukes well. Gets out of most any scrape. I suspect smells divine when he is not smelling of a ‘Stygian cess pit’ and is generally an all around charming fellow. Only do hold onto your bicycles. And your knickers.”

Who’d have thought it? Hammersley a hit with the lay-deez after all. He so very much likes to meet his targets. And ideally to take them to dinner.

MJD II
24.iv.10