Andy Jones Answers The Question On Everyone’s Lips

Oh, you want me to expand. Blimey, demanding.

Alright, as it’s you.

Had I always set out to write a love story?

No, not exactly.

The stories I gravitate to as a reader tend to lie outside of the genre. For example, the last several books I’ve read:

• Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
• Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
• Dr Sleep by Stephen King
• L.A. Confidential by James Ellroy
• Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel
• Secret History by Donna Tart
• Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
• The Psychopath Test by John Ronson

With the exception of Night Circus (and by the way, have you seen the trailer? hmm… not sure about that.), hardly a romantic list. Although I happen to think Gillian Flynn could write a fantastic love story if she chose to, Gone Girl shows a sharp insight into the strange ways of relationships, and – bonkers or not – she created a great couple.

[amazon_link id=”B00MZAS05A” target=”_blank” ][/amazon_link]But anyway, the above eight books are fairly typical of my tastes in literature. And when I began writing, I anticipated creating work that would sit alongside these titles. I thought I might be the next Irvine Welsh, Brett Easton-Ellis or Chuck Palahniuk. A bit of a bad boy, you know. The first story I ever wrote was a science fiction short featuring genetically engineered assassins. (My dad still thinks it’s the best thing I have ever written.) Then I wrote a story about one-legged shoe thief, another about suicidal quadriplegic and one with a fight in a fireplace shop. I had a lot of fun and learned some lessons about the whole craft of writing: Show don’t tell; point of view; dialogue; description; pacing; structure and so on. And not once did anyone fall in love.

Then, around eight years ago, I had some time on my hands and a plot that I felt could run beyond fifteen pages. It was meant to be a kind or urban noir job with drugs, killing and sex, but it didn’t turn out that way. I ended up focusing more on the relationship between the protagonist and his girlfriend. Oh, and it was funny. I’m interested in all that stuff, you see. Love, relationships, the way we treat each other and the demands and expectations we bring to the candle-lit table. And I really enjoyed writing it. Maybe what we enjoy reading isn’t always the same stuff we enjoy writing?

That first novel wasn’t particularly great, but I’d begun. I managed to meet a couple of agents, and they said kind things. Not “let me write you an obscene cheque, Mr Jones”, more like, “Yeah, the first two chapters are quite good. Maybe rewrite the other 36 or try something new.”

So I tried something new. It was another love story and it was a lot better than my first effort. It came bloody close to getting bought, in fact. But what use is bloody close? I stood bloody close to the Queen when I was seven and she still hasn’t invited me to Buck Pal for a barbeque.

So – because I’m stupid, stubborn or both – I wrote another book. Another love story.
And after all of that, Simon and Schuster only went and bought it. It’s available as an ebook, a paperback and an audio-flipping-download; so far it’s been sold into fifteen countries including Germany, Brazil, Israel and the Czech Republic; I’ve just finished the US edit and seen the Norwegian cover (pretty nifty, as it goes).