After the incredible performances both Katy and Geraint delivered for One Step Closer, I couldn’t wait for them to return for a story that’s very different in tone and emotion. This time, Katy takes on the role of Mia, bringing all her nuance and depth to the character, while Geraint lends his voice to Luke’s chapters, capturing his warmth, charm, and the complexities beneath the surface.

Having dual narration really allows the listener to step inside both Mia and Luke’s worlds, making the story feel even more alive. It’s a whole new dimension to experiencing the book, and I can’t wait for you all to hear them breathe life into these characters.

The audiobook will be released alongside the ebook and paperback (give or take a few days – audiobooks do take a wee bit longer to distribute!), so you’ll be able to enjoy the story in whichever format you prefer.

I’m so excited to hear it myself, and I’ll be sure to share the links to the book page as soon as the audiobook is live. I promise, it’s going to be an emotional, heartwarming, and utterly immersive journey you won’t want to miss!

Okay, so that sentence feels surreal to write…

The Shopkeeper is a deliciously tense and unsettling thriller that I’ve been waiting to release for years. Now, finally, it’s ready to be read – and this one might just be my darkest story yet, featuring the most evil and truly twisted villain I’ve ever written, and I don’t say that lightly.

For a long time, I’ve wanted to write a story about a true psychopath. Not a misunderstood antagonist. Not someone shaped by circumstance with a tragic edge or a chance at redemption. But someone for whom there is genuinely no way back. Someone who knows exactly what they want, with no morals about how to get it. To add to that, I’ve always wanted to write a story about a stalker – about how they think and justify their actions. The most chilling thing about The Shopkeeper is that this guy truly believes he’s bettering a woman’s life. And when she figures out what she’s up to… well, let me repeat myself: the story is about someone who knows exactly what they want, with no morals about how to get it.

Now, some might argue that I’ve already explored this territory in. my 2023 novel, North Paradise. And I have… sort of. I do still love that book. But North Paradise was intentionally heightened. I wanted it to feel very TV drama. That’s the thrill of it. It was always meant to feel like something you’d binge-watch. A little far-fetched, a little glossy, and a lot of fun, but not all that believable in the real world.

The Shopkeeper is something else entirely.

This story was written to feel closer to a true crime documentary than a TV drama. Like it could easily happen on your street or mine. I wanted it to feel uncomfortably real. The kind of story that doesn’t rely on shock for impact, but instead creeps under your skin because that’s where it belongs. It’s supposed to feel like it could actually happen. That realism is what makes it so unsettling, and if I’m being honest, it’s what made the book harder to write (and probably why it’s been in and out of a drawer for nearly three years).

But I wanted to explore what happens when evil isn’t loud or theatrical, waving at you with both hands. But instead, quiet, methodical, and hiding in plain sight. The kind of person you might pass every day without a second glance. That’s what they always say about the real serial killers and psychopaths. So, writing this book meant removing excuses, removing sympathy, and removing the safety net of redemption. This villain doesn’t want saving. He doesn’t believe he’s wrong. He doesn’t believe he’s evil. And sitting with that mindset as a writer was deeply uncomfortable – but also something I felt compelled to confront. And I can’t lie, it was A LOT of fun.

But despite the darkness, The Shopkeeper isn’t a story that glorifies evil. If it was, I’d have never written it. At its core, it’s about good. About resilience. About never giving up, even when faced with something truly horrific. It’s about determination, survival, and the quiet strength of people who refuse to be broken.

And it was also the perfect opportunity to bring back one of my favourite characters, Molly Lewis – who readers of Forbidden Shores will remember as the drunken sister who Sophie Lawson goes on holiday with. Molly being back is basically everything I just said. She’s resilient, she never gives up, and she’s determined in her words ‘to take this sick bastard down no matter what it takes’. It was so much fun to write about Molly again, but don’t worry if you haven’t checked out Forbidden Shores yet – you don’t need to have read it to understand The Shopkeeper (although it’s highly recommended ).

So, this novel has been with me for a long time. I wrote it years ago, before a lot of my other books, but I always knew it wasn’t ready to meet the world yet. I needed to grow as a writer before I could release it. Really give myself the confidence to write something which can get under the reader’s skin. And after the overwhelming success of One Step Closer, I feel like now, it finally feels like the right moment.

I won’t lie – I’m nervous about this one. Only because it removed all the boundaries and just went for it. But I’m also incredibly proud of it.

The Shopkeeper will be released on 27th October 2026, with pre-orders starting in the next couple of days. I’ll be posting information regarding that on Instagram, Threads and X when I have more info.

Oh, and it’s ideal Halloween read!

The story begins with a trip back in time

The first books to come out in 2025 were Nineteen Minutes to Midnight and Gone Midnight – easily the most ‘out there’ story I’ve ever written. When the books came out in April, I was nervous to say the least. Imposter syndrome never really leaves you as a writer, especially when you bravely venture into a new genre. I’d never written sci-fi before, and I’d never thought I’d ever manage a time travel story – talk about a recipe for plot holes galore! But when the idea came to me, some time in 2023, I just had to write the story down. It all started with a teenage boy who moves into an old house in an old village, who hears the sound of a clock chiming at nineteen minutes to midnight. That was the scene in my head. I wrote that down first, with no idea where it was going to go. Maybe it was going to be a haunted house horror? Maybe a murder mystery with a supernatural element. Or maybe, just maybe, it was going to be my first YA time travel adventure, which plunges our three main characters, Jerome, Sam, and Olly, into a saga which would reach far into the depths of my imagination.

But of course, when I submitted the final manuscript to the publisher, I was nervous to say the least. The beta reading feedback was good. The story was polished and ready. So why was I nervous? Because there was still that niggling feeling in the back of my mind that people would think it was utter horse shit.

Thankfully, that hasn’t (thus far) appeared to be the case. In fact, one reader said they thought Nineteen Minutes to Midnight was “one of the best time travel stories they’ve read!”

This is incredible considering how nervous I was to release this story, and I was so happy people were enjoying it.

And just like that, I’m a bestselling author

What I never expected was for Nineteen Minutes to Midnight to become a bestseller! But that it did, which completely blew my mind when I saw the book reach number one for Young Adult Time Travel. This is something I could’ve only dreamed about when I started my writing journey just five years ago. Even better, the book has consistently stayed there throughout the year. I can’t thank everyone who has grabbed their copy enough.

But (there’s always a but…)

Like everything in life, positives come with negatives. And Nineteen Minutes to Midnight didn’t fall short of that. The thing is, I wrote Nineteen Minutes to Midnight as one story, not two. I actually submitted the book to my publisher in 2024. It wasn’t until April 2025 that I heard back from the publisher regarding the edits. And when I chased them and they finally came back, they gave me something to think about. And think about it I did, for a long time. Basically, the publisher said they couldn’t market the book effectively as it was, and they would highly recommend splitting the book into two parts. This isn’t something I wanted to do. In my mind, the story had a beginning, middle, and end which all belonged on a single cover.

But I am by no means a marketing expert. This is why I approached the publisher in the first place, so that my books would get a wider reach and my name would be found by more readers. Initially, I pushed back on the idea, explaining that this story is part of a planned trilogy and the intention is for it to be told as one. But when they came back, talking about box sets and collection ideas, it felt like they were very keen to give the book a big push on the marketing front – something I was truly grateful for. And curiosity got the better of me. What if I released the book as a single volume, only for it to plummet into the abyss of Amazon’s listings, never to be found or read by anyone? If I didn’t take the publisher’s advice, I knew I’d always have the feeling of what if?

So, I rewrote the ending slap-bang in the middle of an action scene. I sort of saw it a bit like those two-part Doctor Who episodes they used to have (I don’t know if they do them anymore), usually where the Doctor and co would find themselves in an impossible situation, only for the episode to end leaving viewers desperate for more. I used to love that – in fact, my whole week would consist of me counting down the days until we found out what happened. So, I thought, why not do something similar with my story?

But then the reviews started coming in. What really got to me the most was people were enjoying the first book, but it was clear that the cliffhanger was frustrating a good amount of them. One reader spoke of how they enjoyed the book, but felt “cheated” because they had to buy the second book to find out what happens.

So, whilst it might be a great way of bringing back audiences in TV and movies, apparently in book format it can sometimes do more damage than good. Now, don’t get me wrong, some books end on a cliffhanger and it works. The Lord of the Rings springs to mind. I suppose if I’d had more time, I may have reconsidered the ending of book one.

But that was just it: the book had been in a queue for so long, and I needed to make a decision quickly.

Ultimately, it was the wrong decision.

I spoke to my publisher about returning the books back into a single volume. The way it was written. However, they were insistent that this was the right way to go, and that most readers wouldn’t feel the same frustration as the initial reviews expressed.

Still, despite Nineteen Minutes becoming my first bestselling novel, its numbers seemed to have staggered. Ratings are low in quantity. As of the time of writing this post, it only has eleven ratings on Amazon. To put that in perspective, I indie-published another book in October, which has had over 20,000 orders and is on course for 500 ratings before the close of the year.

So, something had clearly gone wrong.

The last thing I ever want is for my readers to think I’m trying to con them out of money, even though book one was free. And whilst it wasn’t the way I wanted to go, at the end of the day, it is ultimately my name on the cover. One reader even said they’d be cautious of reading another one of my books because of the unannounced cliffhanger, even though I have no control over updating the description. I’ll be open and honest: I don’t do this for money. I started writing when I was struggling with my mental health, and I wanted to breathe some fresh air into a new venture. It’s never been about becoming rich or famous. I just want to tell stories. Which is why recently, I made an important decision, something I haven’t yet spoken about publicly.

Taking (back) over the wheel

Last month, I formally triggered the rights reversal clause in my contract with Next Chapter Publishing. This includes the following titles:

• Forbidden Shores
• Nineteen Minutes to Midnight
• Gone Midnight

Whilst I don’t have a clear timescale as to when the rights will be reversed, I am finally happy that the ball has started rolling. And I am hopeful that at some point in 2026, the rights to these books will be returned, and I will be able to publish new editions under my own imprint: AJE Press. This will include a new, combined edition of Nineteen Minutes to Midnight. Gone Midnight will go out of print, and Nineteen Minutes to Midnight will become a single volume – a complete story, behind one cover. As written, and ready to be read as initially intended.

A new, re-edited edition of Forbidden Shores will also be released, with a new cover which fits more in line with my brand. And, to add to this, I finally signed a deal for the audiobooks to be produced!

I’ve written an extensive blog post on my frustrations with traditional publishing and why it simply isn’t for me, so I won’t go into too much detail as to why I’ve made this decision. What I will say is that this is not a criticism of Next Chapter Publishing or their approach to publishing. But if the success of One Step Closer has taught me anything, it’s that I am much more suited to publishing, marketing, and distributing my books via the indie publishing route.

One Step Closer

In October, I also took back the rights to manage the publication of One Step Closer myself. In that time, the book has had over 20,000 orders! What?! Not only that, it has become a bestselling novel for psychological thrillers in the UK, US, Canada, and Australia. Not only that, but I’ve seen sales rise of my other indie titles on the back of it.

One Step Closer is easily one of my favourite mysteries that I’ve written so far. It was a book that started in a similar way to what Nineteen Minutes to Midnight did – one scene, with a young woman on the wrong side of a motorway bridge, only for a young farmer to talk her down.

When I started writing this book, the intention was for it to be a romance novel between a young woman with a dark past and a farmer with an uncertain future. I got about halfway through the first draft when I shelved it. Whilst it was okay as a romance, I felt like there was something missing. I wanted to delve deeper into this dark past. Who or what was this girl running from? When I started to pen some flashback scenes, I came to the fast realisation that this couldn’t be written in a few pages. This was a whole chunk of the book. More than just a subplot.

So, I started again. Only this time I knew there had been a shift in tone, genre, and voice. I was writing a crime thriller.

I nearly didn’t come back to the book. For over a year, it was left behind as a (if I’m brutally honest) pretty boring romance novel that I couldn’t fathom what direction it was going in.

I’m so thrilled I rewrote it as a crime mystery. It elevated everything, and is a real threat to North Paradise in becoming my most read, and most successful release to date.

Audiobook-ing

At the time of writing this post, I’m eagerly awaiting the audiobook’s release. I found my narrator, Katy, on ACX, and I was blown away by her samples. I could hear my characters in her voice. So, I sent her a message, inviting her to audition for One Step Closer. When she did, I couldn’t get the offer to her quickly enough. Thankfully, we made a deal, and a couple of months later, she sent me over the completed audiobook. This is easily one of my best audiobook releases to date, and not only that, it’s my first dual-narration. One Step Closer is centred around four main characters. Two females and two males. It’s Katy’s idea to go with a dual-narration, and I couldn’t have agreed more. Katy sent me an audio sample of a narrator she had in mind. Geraint Davies put in a stellar performance as both Jack and Jonathan, as did Katy with Piper and Martha. I’m over the moon with the audiobook, and can’t thank Katy and Geraint enough for the incredible efforts in turning my story into a thrilling and immersive experience for audiobook listeners.

A peek at the future (and the past)

So, in conclusion (not to sound too formal), 2025 has been a very busy year, filled with highs and lows, and most of all, invaluable lessons as this crazy journey continues.

Off the page, it’s been an incredible year too. In October (a day before One Step Closer came out, actually), my wife and I welcomed our second child, a beautiful baby girl – and with all of the incredible joy that brings, I do also have someone else to dedicate my books to, including my next one!

In June 2026, I will release a book which I’ve been holding close to me for quite some time. Again, I’m quite nervous to release it into the world as it’s another genre shift for me, but not one I haven’t ventured into before.

The Girl Who Lives By The Sea is the coastal, small-town romance novel I’ve always wanted to write. Despite being a northerner, one of my favourite places in the UK is Cornwall. So, it didn’t take long for me to decide that I wanted to write a love story set there.

I can’t wait for you to meet Mia and Luke, and discover their story. It will be available in June, in all formats, including an audiobook, which I’m delighted to announce will once again be narrated by Katy and Geraint.

And of course, this book is for my incredible daughter. I hope one day, she’ll grow up and read it, and realise that her dad can be a right soppy old git.

Romance and love stories aside, I can’t deny that I always feel right at home when writing crime. I’ve got a new mystery cooking at the moment. Whilst I can’t guarantee that it will be out in 2026, that’s very much the aim. At this moment, there isn’t much I can say about it, only that I’ve never written a mystery quite like it – and it might just include my most shocking twist yet!

Alongside all of this, I’m also working on what will be (the real) book two in the Nineteen Minutes to Midnight series. The Shadow Awakening will be the next instalment in the adventure, and the first draft is in full flow. Again, there’s not much I can say right now – this one is almost certain to be a 2027 release at the earliest – but what I will say is this world has blown right up, and the stakes have never been higher!

So, as I close the door on 2025, and look forward to what promises to be a massive 2026, I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank my readers, as I do every year, and will continue to do for years to come. After all, there’s no excitement in storytelling if there’s no one to tell the story to! So, as always, a massive thank you to everyone who has been involved in my writing journey. To my beta readers, my publisher, my editor, and my readers, a huge thank you! You’ve all helped shaped what has been without a doubt my biggest year in writing so far!

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas, and an incredible New Year.

See you on the other side.

Alex.

Just a quick legal note: Obviously, this content is subject to copyright and may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the prior written permission of the author. All rights reserved.

So, with that said, Enjoy!

One

Mia

Sometimes I find it difficult to remember the girl I was before I met him.

I do remember when it all started, though. It was the 6th of April, and I could already tell it was going to be a hot summer, as if spring had been skipped altogether. When it got hot in my house, it got bloody hot. I’m talking sauna with the heating on hot; and totally impossible to get a decent night’s sleep.

But it wasn’t the heat that had kept me awake on the night prior to the 6th of April.

The sun was still rising when I checked the time in the top right corner of my MacBook again. It was 6:57 a.m.. How could it only have been two minutes since I last looked? Time seriously drags when you’re wrapped up in anticipation.

Without realising it, I’d been sitting on my hands and bobbing my knees. Usually, I’m quite a calm person, but that morning, I couldn’t sit still. It was only when the pins and needles started creeping through my fingertips that I noticed I’d been sitting on my hands for way too long.

6:58 a.m.

Come on, come on…

I tried drumming my fingers on my desk to see if that helped, but then stopped almost immediately. Too irritating. Back under my legs they went. The pins and needles would have to do.

6:59 a.m.

I was counting the seconds now. All the hard work, the late nights, the year I had to take off, and the chaos of stop-start studying through the grief of Dad… everything had led to this.

I clicked the sync button on my Mail app again and again. Nothing. But then again, it was still 6:59.

How was it still six-bloody-fifty-nine?

At long last, the little digital clock in the corner of the screen flicked to 7:00 a.m. And there it was, right on cue. A new email. I felt my heart begin to dance around my chest as weird prickles of heat began to wander up my spine.

I glanced at the sender.

Please don’t be Starbucks. Or Amazon trying to lure me into an offer.

Clicking unsubscribe never seemed to work.

But, thankfully, it was nothing like that. It was from them. Oxford University.

I narrowed my eyes at the subject, just to be sure the waiting hadn’t driven me completely mad. It read: Your application to Oxford University.

My thumb nearly shattered the trackpad as I clicked. I didn’t care. If I broke my laptop, I’d buy a new one. A treat to celebrate starting uni – student loans and all that.

I started to read, whispering each word. I needed to hear it out loud to believe it.

Dear Miss Marsh,

Thank you for your application to Oxford University. After much consideration, it is with regret that, on this occasion, your application to study English Language and Literature BA (Hons) has been unsuccessful. We know this may come as a disappointment and hope that…

With regret? Unsuccessful?!

I stopped reading, in favour of staring blankly at the screen, as if another email was going to miraculously pop up saying: ‘Oh, we’re so sorry, Mia. That was a mistake… We’d love for you to come and study English at Oxford…’

I felt my entire body sink as I re-read the last line over and over, hoping by some miracle it would change.

Bugger.

I knew Oxford was a long shot, but after everything – the second stage interview, the feedback, the endless refining of my personal statement – I really thought I had a shot. I really did. How could I have been so stupid? So bloody naïve? Yeah, Mum had been my cheerleader, but the thought of applying to Oxford had always scared the shit out of me. I didn’t have a posh accent or a million quid in spending money for starters.

I still had Birmingham as my second choice. Birmingham. That decision was due next week, via the post. Which said a lot really. But the course wasn’t the one I wanted. I had no desire to do a general creative writing course, just because that was the ‘closest thing they could offer’. Oxford had always been the dream. The holy grail.

Maybe that was why I didn’t get in. Because it was exactly that: a dream. A fantasy. I may as well have put bloody Hogwarts down as my second choice. I probably stood the same chance of getting in. I felt like I was going to be stuck there for the rest of my life: that tiny cove on the edge of a small village in Cornwall, overlooking the sea. I know how that sounds – like perfection. And it was lovely, I can’t deny it. I knew I was in no position to complain. But apart from my best friend, Kat, and a few others (Patrick, of course), Penlowen was the sort of place people came to when they were at the end of their careers, not the beginning. To me, it felt like that tiny village was a bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.

It’s weird, the little details which stick with you. I still remember how gentle the waves outside my bedroom window were that morning. It was the only sound to break the silence that comes with a massive rejection. The sea being calm was unusual for April. We often got sun during the day, and it was usually nice and warm by noon. But the morning breeze often made the waves quite choppy. Usually my idea of perfect. But that morning the sea was unbearably calm, meaning I couldn’t even surf off my frustration. I had a paddleboard – naturally – but there was something extra lonely about paddling out to sea by myself. That was always mine and Dad’s thing.

Almost like clockwork, as soon as I slammed my laptop shut, my phone began to buzz.

Oh God. It was Mum. No doubt phoning to find out if I got in. She wanted me to go more than I did.

I really didn’t want to answer, like really didn’t want to answer. But if I didn’t, I knew she would only start flapping. Even though I had turned twenty-one last September, this was one of the first times I had been left alone in the house for more than a couple of days. People in Penlowen didn’t tend to leave, unless they were tourists there for the weekend, of course. And to be fair to Mum, when your back garden was the sea, and your daughter had a habit of diving into it on a whim, not picking up the phone was always bound to spark an ounce of concern.

So, reluctantly, I tapped the green button and pressed the phone to my ear.

‘Morning, Mum.’

‘Come on then! How did it go?’ she squeaked. Her voice was devastatingly bright with anticipation. ‘Oh, come on, don’t leave me hanging! I’ve barely slept!’

You and me both, Mum.

‘Oh, um… well, I’m not sure yet. People on Twitter are saying the university’s having technical difficulties sending the emails out or something. Would you believe it?’

That was the killer question: would she believe it?

I’m not proud of lying. But I guess I didn’t want to tell her over the phone. She would just start saying Oxford wasn’t all that anyway, probably in some desperate attempt to make me feel better. Or worse, she might have come home early. And I couldn’t have that. This week away was good for her. Like I said, Penlowen wasn’t the kind of place people tended to venture from often. And because of me and my stupidity, Mum had been too worried to leave my side.

‘Gosh, they like to make us sweat, don’t they? You’ll let me know as soon as there’s any news, won’t you?’

I swallowed. ‘Yep. Sure will. So, how’s London? Is the book going well?’

Mum was off on a writing retreat, trying to (in her words) ‘rediscover herself as an author’. Which was funny, really, considering Deborah Marsh had spent the last decade churning out twelve bestsellers and turning PI Maisie Penrose into a household name. I mean, jeez… they were even making a bloody TV series based on her books now. But that was Mum. Always chasing the feeling that the next book might finally prove to her that she was good enough. Talk about being the only person who couldn’t see it.

She always used to say: ‘Looking back could only get you so far, and often not far enough.’ I had never been entirely sure what she meant by that. She had this way of being cryptic and blunt at the same time. Like when she sat me down one random Tuesday the previous summer after I had come in from a surf, and told me she wasn’t my biological mother. And that Dad wasn’t my biological father, either. Just like that. No cup of tea and a biscuit to help soften the blow. Jesus, she didn’t even sit me down first, or let me get dry. Just straight out with it: ‘I’m not your real mum, Mia.’

I couldn’t believe it. I had a similar lump in my throat then to the one I had now; chatting with Mum and acting as if everything was fine, even though the truth was my world had begun to spin all around me.

‘We wanted to tell you together,’ she’d said. ‘But with Dad’s cancer, we couldn’t. He didn’t want to risk you looking at him differently in his final weeks.’

Then came the rest: basically that I was adopted from birth. My birth mother was a young girl who had got pregnant by mistake and couldn’t afford to raise a baby. Mum couldn’t have kids due to some medical reason she didn’t disclose (and I didn’t ask), and Dad didn’t want to go down the donor route. So, adoption was their only option. Fair enough, I suppose. And I can’t exactly say I had a bad childhood. Sure, it was lonely at times, but Mum and Dad were my best friends. It was us, the three of us (four if you include Pebble), happy in our own little bubble. That was until the bastard that calls itself cancer came along.

Mum didn’t say much more about my birth parents. And to be fair, I didn’t seek to find out. I didn’t want to know. I was too wrapped up in what, at the time, felt like losing my dad all over again.

It took a while, but eventually, I adjusted to the new normal. So much had changed, but one thing remained the same: sure, Mum might not have given birth to me, but she was still my mum. And Dad was still Dad. Always would be. And that was okay. Blood wasn’t everything.

‘The book is going… okay,’ she said now, snapping me back. ‘I mean, I’ve barely written anything. I’m just heading out for a walk down The Mall. Try and get some fresh inspiration, you know? I thought it would be the romance aspect that would trip me up, but turns out, it’s the setting. I’ve never written anything set in a city before. I need to experience it. Soak it up. It’s always been Cornwall this, Cornwall that…’

It’s true. All of Mum’s books were set around Cornwall.

‘Well, there is that one set in Devon,’ I said.

She laughed. ‘Oh yeah, all three chapters of it. How adventurous of me!’

‘Well, it hasn’t done you too badly, has it?’

‘True,’ she said. ‘Thanks, good talk as always, boss.’

‘You’re very welcome. My invoice will be in the post.’

‘Ha! You wish. Have you taken your tablets this morning?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘Okay, well it’s only because I—’

‘I know, Mum. Thanks.’

‘Look, love, I want to beat the morning commute – you wouldn’t believe how many people there are in this city – so I’m heading out, but I’ll have my phone. Call me the second you hear anything, promise? If I don’t answer it’s probably because I’m on the tube, but keep trying.’

I pressed my lips together. ‘Sure, will do, Mum.’

‘That doesn’t sound like a promise…’

‘Fine. I promise. Now go… you don’t want to miss the changing of the guards or whatever it is they do there. I’ll be fine.’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘And hey, don’t sound so worried. You smashed the first stage, and your application was brilliant. You’ll get in. I just know it!’

I felt an involuntary tremor ripple through my bottom lip. In some ways, I wished I had told her there and then. It was definitely going to be worse now.

‘Fingers crossed,’ I managed.

‘I love you, sweetheart.’

‘I love you too, Mum.’

‘Alright, gotta dash… bye!’

I heard her kiss the phone. And with that, she was gone.

I tossed my phone onto my bed and pushed myself back from my desk, steering my office chair towards the little round window to the side of my wardrobe. It was a small house. Just an oversized beach hut, really. My room was upstairs, along with the small en suite – and there was Mum’s room down the hall. The kitchen and living room were downstairs. And that was about it. About ninety percent of the place was made of wood, mostly painted white. It was a bugger to keep on top of. Every time we patched up a chip, another one seemed to reveal itself. But I loved it. And so did Mum. And being there upon receiving such shit news sort of cushioned the blow of rejection in a way.

I peered down at the sea. Yep. Still too calm for surfing. That was what I usually did when things got tough: leave my problems on the beach whilst I rode the waves. But I wasn’t going to let a calm tide stop me. No sense in moping around when the world was going to continue spinning anyway. You either go with it or get off. I’d seriously contemplated both. Going with it seemed to be the only way.

So, I got up and dashed downstairs. Pebble, our fluffy canine resident, was still asleep in her bed by the back door. Best not to wake her. The last thing I needed was a moody poodle demanding breakfast.

I headed out through the kitchen door without so much as a glance at the coffee machine. My bare feet landed on the warm decking, and I rushed across it, reluctantly leaving my surfboard leaning against the shed before I took the cobbled steps down to the beach. That was what I loved about our house: within thirty seconds of stepping outside, I was greeted by the feeling of fresh warmth of sand between my toes. I can’t understand people who complain about sand; how soft and soothing it feels against the skin.

What’s there not to love?

I hurried to the shoreline, my feet sinking deeper the closer I got. Sea water rushed around my toes, slightly nippy, sure, but it washed away the sting of rejection all the same.

Well… if only.

I didn’t know where this sudden surge of adrenaline had come from, but my brain had clearly snapped into ‘fuck it’ mode without me having so much of a say in the matter.

One of the best things about living in a house that overlooked a small, hidden beach, tucked away in a cove, was that, for the most part, no one else knew it was there. Especially not the tourists, who would soon be swarming the village when the school summer holidays began, no doubt. So essentially, I had my own private beach. And yes, it was my beach. Well, mine and Mum’s. Sure, the odd group of kids might stumble down there at night, but they were usually chased off by Mum wielding a tea towel like it was a lethal weapon. I heard somewhere that she was known amongst the few teenagers in Penlowen as the ‘crazy writer lady’. That was fine. It deterred them, and suited us to the ground.

I looked around. As I said, practically a private beach. So, fuck it mode in full force, I pulled my pyjama top over my head and tossed it over my shoulder – not giving two shits as to where it landed. As the light breeze brushed my bare chest, a sudden thrill washed over me. A sense of empowerment. It was a bit weird… standing there without a top on, but I quite liked it. So without further ado, I slipped off my shorts and flicked them away with my foot, leaving me only in my birthday suit and my dad’s handmade shell necklace.

Now I was running into the sea, laughing with every step.

Fuck it.

Before I knew it, the water was up to my neck. My whole body went from comfortably warm to what I could only describe as bloody damn freezing. Enough to make my teeth chatter. I reminded myself I would have to thank my wetsuit for all of its hard work in keeping me warm next time I wore it (the secret is to wee).

My breaths came short. At first, I began to tread water, which probably looked more like I was struggling to doggy paddle, before I settled into a proper swim. I set my sights on the clusters of rocks ahead, where the two sides of the cove almost met in the middle, creating a narrow opening to the rest of the sea. I dipped my head under the water and began to swim, each stroke delivering its own surge of adrenaline.

Eventually, I found my rhythm, and my swimming became more structured, like I actually knew what I was doing. Living in Penlowen, swimming was almost second nature, like walking. Dad used to say I could paddle before I could walk… and surf before I could ride a bike.

I had no problems believing that.

I stopped and peered up, treading water. The water was deep now; I could almost reach out and pat the rocks. I was at the edge of the cove, and the water felt nice. Still a bit nippy in certain places, which I won’t disclose, but mostly… nice. I looked back at our small house, only a short distance away, and thought: yeah, things could be worse. I glanced up at the rocks beside me. It was the same spot where we scattered Dad’s ashes, and I reminded myself that I’ve fought harder battles and lived to tell the tale. Even if I was scarred as a result.

I ducked my head under and pressed my feet against one of the rocks below the surface, my toes brushing the smooth algae. I pushed off and started to swim back, opting for breaststroke this time.

Within minutes, I felt the seabed brush my knees. When I lifted my head out of the water, our small house on the edge of the cliff looked considerably larger.

Before I knew it, the water was shallow again, so I stood up and patted myself down. I must have drifted, because my pyjamas weren’t on the shore in front of me. Maybe the current was stronger than I thought that morning.

I shaded my eyes and scanned the beach, trying to spot them, but I couldn’t find them anywhere.

And that was when every muscle in my body tensed at the sound of a deep voice:

‘Morning!’

The Girl Who Lives By The Sea will be available from 26/06/26 – and you can pre-order today!

Famous last words.

In the month my wife and I welcomed our second child, my latest crime thriller, One Step Closer, also released and… wow! It’s been crazy ever since.

I couldn’t believe it when I logged on to view my sales reports to find that One Step Closer was raking in the orders and topping the charts in the UK, US, Canada and Australia; stuff I could only have dreamed of when I hit the big ‘publish’ button a few months ago. But the success of One Step Closer is just the start of what has proven to be some of the biggest weeks in my writing career so far.

Going solo (again)

Eagle-eyed readers may have noticed that One Step Closer was originally scheduled to be traditionally published, but after long delays (through no one’s fault) I decided to formally request the publishing rights back from my publisher. Traditional publishing has been a great experience, and I’ve learned so much. But ultimately, it’s not been for me. I won’t go into the reasons why here, as I’ve already written an article about my experiences and decisions to go indie again.

I’m so glad I made the decision. I really didn’t want to miss out on the autumn months, when readers love a good thriller in front of the fire. I felt that getting One Step Closer out on the shelves for this rush would give it the best chance to get seen. Getting back the rights was a risk, but I’m thrilled with the results.

Over 5,000 copies sold in one month!

When October came to a close, One Step Closer had surpassed a whopping 5,000 orders, becoming my fastest book to reach 100 reviews and topping the Amazon charts in the UK (Psychological Thrillers), US (Traditional Detective Mysteries), Australia and Canada (British Detectives). And the response has been mind-blowingly positive!

Here’s just some of what readers are saying:

OMG, This read was amazing. I couldn’t put my kindle down. I absolutely loved it. What a twist. This is a MUST READ. I’m hoping it will be a movie one day soon. Thank you Alex.

— Reader review, Goodreads

A tale of love, hate, abuse, fear and very well written. Had me gripped from the start and caused me to be late on an occasion! Highly recommend!

— Reader review, Goodreads

Really enjoyed this book. Was gripped and couldn’t put it down!

— Reader review, Goodreads

I’m not an author who reads reviews all too much – I’m a firm believer that reviews are for other readers – but I can’t lie, seeing that people are enjoying the story is really heart-warming! Honestly, thank you to everybody who has already picked up a copy of the book.

Then came novel #9!

The start of November has kept the momentum going, with no sign of things slowing down. Earlier this month, I announced my ninth novel, The Girl Who Lives By The Sea, which is now available to pre-order! This novel is my return to romance, a genre I absolutely love to read, and really enjoy writing when I fancy taking a break from crime and thrillers (which I love too, by the way).

The story came to me quite quickly. It was one of those moments where I could see the main beats all stacked in a row in my head, waiting to be written. It’s not often it happens – usually it’s just a scene or situation which sparks something – but this novel was right there in front of me, and within two months, the first draft was written. It’s the quickest I’ve ever written a draft, and for the most part, it was pretty tidy as first drafts go.

I’m now working through the final edits, but overall the book is in good shape and almost ready to go. I’ve even commissioned the audiobook, so this could well be the first book I release with an audiobook option from day one, although I can’t promise anything just yet!

I really can’t wait to share this one with you. With its Cornwall coastal setting, I think it will be the perfect Kindle companion to take to the beach.

Mysteries, mysteries, mysteries…

And because I clearly can’t sit still, I’m also deep into not one, but two new thriller projects. Both are packed with mystery, tension and those dark little twists I love writing just as much as you love trying to guess.

One of them is already at the final-draft stage. I’ve been quietly refining it between bottle feeds and late-night pram walks, and it’s shaping up to be something really special. If everything goes to plan, I’m hoping to get this one out into the world next year. It’s definitely on the more atmospheric side of my thriller spectrum, and I’m excited to see what readers make of it.

The second? Well… it’s a little earlier in the journey. I’ve written the prologue and a handful of notes, and that’s about it for now. But the idea has been haunting me, in the best way. You know when a story taps you on the shoulder every few hours, reminding you it exists? That’s this one. Very different set-up, very different vibe, but still firmly rooted in the kind of mystery-driven storytelling I love. Two thrillers, at two completely different stages, both fighting for my attention. It’s a good problem to have!

The adventure (through time) continues…

Alongside everything else, I’m also working on the third instalment of my Jerome Series. I’m holding my cards close to my chest with this one for now, but honestly… wow. Things have levelled up. This is the first time I’ve ever properly dug into writing lore, and it’s been such an exciting challenge. The world is expanding in ways I didn’t expect, and I’m loving being back with these characters again.

All I’ll say is: stay tuned. The clock is still open. But… is that the problem?

One Step Closer Audiobook begins production!

I’m absolutely loving what I’m hearing from the One Step Closer audiobook. I’ve teamed up with Katy Brixey, who is doing an incredible job bringing these characters to life in ways that genuinely surprised me. Her performance hits all the right emotional beats, and I knew instantly that I wanted her on The Girl Who Lives By The Sea too.

I’m thrilled to say she’s officially signed on to narrate and produce the audiobook, and I cannot wait for you to hear what she’s doing with it.

Wrapping up…

And breathe…

So, as you can probably tell, I’ve not taken the break I intended. But the truth is, those late nights watching over my daughter while she sleeps have actually given me more time to write than ever. It’s been a huge couple of months, and things aren’t showing any sign of slowing down.

I’m loving the ride, and I can’t wait to share all the exciting things still to come over the next year or two.

Thank you, as always, for reading, for picking up my books, and for allowing a guy to live his dream.

Alex.

The audiobook will be narrated by the incredibly talented Katy Brixey, who is busy breathing life into Piper, Jack, Martha, and Jonathan, as well as every unexpected turn in the story. Her voice really nails the heart of the book: the suspense, the tension, the dark secrets… I can’t wait to share can’t wait for you to hear the full version when it’s released.

The audiobook will be coming to Audible, Amazon and the iOS Books App very soon!

But until then, here’s a sneak preview:

It’s been a little while since I last wrote a love story, and returning to the genre felt a overwhelming at first, but this book has been such a great project start to finish, and I can’t wait for you to meet Mia and Luke.

Set in a quiet Cornish cove, The Girl Who Lives By The Sea is the story of Mia Marsh, who’s spent her whole life tucked away in a sea-facing house filled with memories and salt air. With her mum away on a writing retreat and her university dreams hanging in the balance, Mia’s summer takes an unexpected turn when an email changes everything, and a stranger on the beach changes even more.

Luke Watson didn’t come to Cornwall looking for love. He came searching for answers about a mother he’s never met but can’t forget. But from the moment he meets Mia, something begins to shift. What starts as curiosity turns into connection, and as the summer unfolds, both are forced to face the secrets they’ve been keeping, and the truth that could change everything.

It’s a love story, yes, but it’s also about the truth, family, and finding one’s place in the world. It’s about how the past seems always to find its way, washing back up on shore, and how sometimes the people we least expect may end up saving us.

Thank you, as always, for reading, supporting, and sharing my stories. I couldn’t do any of this without you.

The Girl Who Lives By The Sea will be available June 2026, and I can’t wait for you to dive in.

When One Step Closer came out last month, I had no idea what to expect. You put a book out there and just hope it finds a few people who’ll love it. But to see over 5,000 orders already, and to watch it top the charts in the US, Australia, and Canada…I’m still trying to take it all in.

To everyone who’s downloaded, read, reviewed, or even just recommended the book to a friend. Thank you. Truly. Every message, every comment, every review has meant more than I can say.

I can’t wait to share what’s coming next. If this first month has shown me anything, it’s how incredible this community of readers really is.

Thank you for making One Step Closer such a memorable experience.

When I first released the book, I had no idea how readers would respond. I just wanted to tell a story that kept people guessing. A tense, emotional thriller about guilt, secrets, and the fine line between right and wrong. To see it now sitting at the top of the charts feels completely surreal.

I’ve been blown away by the messages, reviews, and support over the past few days. Every download, every share, every bit of feedback means the world. It’s not just my book that’s reached this milestone. It’s ours.

If you haven’t read One Step Closer yet, it’s still free to download for a limited time. So if you love twisty psychological suspense, now’s the perfect chance to dive in:

Click Here to get your copy!

Thank you again to everyone who’s made this possible. This little book has taken a huge step forward, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Alex

Okay, it’s not that sinister. Allow me to explain.

Nearly two years ago now, I completed work on my fifth novel, Forbidden Shores. And I was super proud of the story I’d written, but unfortunately I just didn’t have the funds to publish it alone.

After hiring an editor, proofreader, formatter, etc., I couldn’t justify the costs of funding yet another novel when my previous novels combined hadn’t earned me over a tenner. In all fairness, I’d listed the ebooks for free, as for me, writing has never been about making money from it. Would I love to write for a living? Of course, who wouldn’t want to do what they love and get paid for it? But to me, writing has always been an escape, a therapy.

I’ve never been interested in the business side of it (or the marketing side for that matter), but I still wanted to share my stories with the world. And I’m so glad I didn’t keep them to myself. My fourth novel, North Paradise (indie published), went on to receive rave reviews and currently sits at a cushy 4.3 out of 5 on Amazon, 20,000 orders, and 1.2k ratings later. Not bad going considering it was written on an extremely tight budget at a time when (admittedly) I had no clue what I was doing when it came to publishing.

It wasn’t all fine and dandy though. For starters, the book had been on sale for two months before I realised the manuscript, which had been distributed, was an unedited version which had somehow found its way into my ‘final’ folder. It was a flurry of reviews which commented on the poor grammar, which initially got me wondering. Either my proofreader had sold me down the river or I’d ballsed something up during the submission.

Unsurprisingly, it was the latter.

But the reviews all seemed to say a similar thing: whilst the poor grammar was a distraction (well, it would have been, it was an unedited manuscript written by a dyslexic author – you can imagine!), people seemed to really enjoy the story, someone even calling it ‘the best story about a serial killer they’ve read!’

I suppose they say you learn from your mistakes, and it goes without saying that I didn’t want to make that mistake again.

So when it came to my next book, I took a step back and reassessed my situation, weighed up my options. And after much consideration, I decided to submit my manuscript to some traditional houses as well as a few literary agents.

Naturally, I received a few rejections. Until I didn’t.

I’ll never forget the feeling; receiving my first acceptance letter from a traditional publishing house. I could begin to dream bigger: like walking into a brick-and-mortar bookshop and seeing my novel on the shelf, or doing my first book signing. Maybe even a movie one day? Well, you’ve gotta have a big vision, right?

I was on cloud nine. Not only did they want to publish my submission, but also made an offer on my WIP too! Audiobooks included! I couldn’t sign the contract quick enough! It felt too good to be true!

Because it was.

Sort of.

Firstly, I’d like to say, the aim of this post is not to criticise the publishing house or the way they go about their business. Their process will work like clockwork for some – in fact I have a few fellow authors who enjoy working in this way – I am merely reflecting on my own experience and the transition from indie to trad.

And as soon as I’d submitted my final manuscript to them for editors, I began to realise this method of publishing was very different from indie.

Now, I’m not sure if this is how lots of other traditionally published authors feel, but I can’t lie, when I submitted my manuscript, I felt a strange sense that I was giving it up. Like I was handing it over to someone else and allowing them to rush off with it, to do with it as they please.

It didn’t prove to be quite like that, but my initial worries weren’t a million miles off either.

The feeling of no control over my book was still very much there, and it made me feel uneasy. I’d never put anything out that I hadn’t overseen every step of the way before.

Firstly, one thing I hadn’t anticipated was how much longer everything would take. My first manuscript was with my new publisher for over six months before I received anything back. And what came back from the editor was the bare minimum to say the least. How can there only be eight tracked changes in a 125,000-word novel? Eight?!

Alrighty then.

Part of our agreement was that when a manuscript is returned after edits, the author has a week to return the final submission. So, stupidly (and because this was all still very new), I went through the changes and sent back the manuscript, expecting to wait another six months to receive the formatted copy.

Things started to pick up in speed after that, however.

Within a week, I received both the formatted ebook and print copies of my book. Finally, things were starting to get moving!

A few days after accepting the formatting, my cover arrived. I was in America at the time, so I didn’t see it at first. But when I got home and brought it up on my Mac, I can’t lie, my initial feeling was, ew.

I didn’t like it at all. It was too bright and shiny for a dark romance thriller.

But again, this could have just been me being new to it all. With my indie publishing, one thing I always took care of myself was my covers. I studied design for four years, so I always felt confident in my book covers, and I also liked having complete control.

So I knew to trust my gut when I opened my cover file to take a look.

The first word that sprang to mind was not awful or a disaster. It wasn’t that bad. It was just…uninspiring. Something I was worried would be ignored on a bookshelf. But looking at it, I was starting to cast doubts on my dream of seeing it on a bookshelf at all.

Naturally, I went back with my feedback, but I didn’t want to be too full-on. Again (and I’ll keep saying it), I was new to this. These guys were the experts, not me. They knew marketing, I didn’t (don’t). So I had to trust that this cover had been designed to be eye-catching and spark a potential reader’s interest. So after a few tweaks, we went with it.

Within a week – without any warning, and certainly no pre-order window – the book was on sale. I was checking the latest ranking of North Paradise when I noticed a new title listed under my name. And there it was: Forbidden Shores, available to be read.

I thought, wow! I best get some social media done and start promoting this thing!

So, that’s what I did. And to their credit, the publisher got to work on the marketing too.

And I kept going and going with sending out posts on Twitter, Instagram, newsletters, you name it.

Less than twelve months on, I can now comfortably say the book fell into Amazon’s endless abyss of forgotten titles. Even now, it sits with five ratings and four stars, no written reviews. And God knows I’ve tried to promote it.

But this isn’t a rant. I’ve not written this blog post to beg people to feel sorry for me. This is just me telling you the story of my writing journey into traditional publishing, and what happened.

Perhaps this had been one of those books which hadn’t found the right readers yet. Perhaps it needed a little more patience. So I continued to market it, all whilst getting my next novel ready for the publisher, to go again.

I was really excited for this one. It was my first step into science fiction and fantasy – two genres I’ve loved to read since I was a kid. I’d been working on this project for a long time in many of its different forms before I found my way to what I submitted. Nineteen Minutes to Midnight was pretty much everything sci-fi or fantasy which inspired me growing up poured into a mental mixing bowl, and was the result of what I’d created. I was so proud of my final manuscript, and I couldn’t wait to share it with the world.

I submitted it to the publisher in the hope that last time was a bit of a blip, and that I’d hear back much sooner this time.

Weeks turned into months.

Once again, I had to chase up progress, and each time the email read something like: we’ll be in touch when there’s an update.

All I could do was sit tight, and carry on writing. So that’s what I did.

Until one day, about SEVEN months later, I checked my inbox and there it was – the email I’d longed for from the publisher. I was ready to drop everything (I only had a week to return my manuscript after checking the edits), but as soon as I read the email, my stomach turned into a pit of dread.

My manuscript hadn’t come back, but I could see there was progress. The publisher informed me they thought this book would do better if it was in two parts. Split down the middle. The email basically told me I had a choice: either agree to the split and rework the manuscript so it could work over two parts, or go with the one manuscript but it would ‘be difficult for our team to market as a standalone’.

Initially, I told them I wasn’t crazy about splitting the book into two. That it wasn’t written that way and that’s not how I intended readers to read it. In response, they reiterated that they couldn’t market the book as well if it were one. Their plan was to ultimately put the books (including any future sequels) into a collection and sell them as box sets.

Again, I know nothing about marketing, and I was sure they wanted the book to do well just as much as I did. Perhaps more so. Unlike indie publishing, traditional publishing, thus far, hadn’t cost me a penny.

I went away and thought about it long and hard. The thought of Forbidden Shores, which had seemingly fallen into Amazon’s abyss of lost books, echoed loudly in my head. I really didn’t want the same thing to happen to Nineteen Minutes to Midnight. Nothing I’d written before meant more to me than this book. This book was something that my younger self would have picked up and become obsessed with, and I was confident enough in the story to believe that people would come to love the characters just as much as I did, and enjoy the adventure I’d written.

I remember a few days later thinking: what if?

What if I stuck to my guns and said: NO, this was written as ONE book and should be read as such.

What if.

But I couldn’t shake the curiosity. Remember what I said about knowing nothing about marketing? These guys were the experts. And despite the disappointment of Forbidden Shores, something was telling me that I’d never forgive myself if the same thing happened again and I’d never gone with the publisher’s advice. But I wanted there to be one condition. The first book (or part 1) should be free.

I agreed to the split, and got to work on some extensive rewrites.

Looking back now, I wish I’d kicked curiosity in the sodding arse.

The publisher’s process from there was very much the same as before. I wrote the rewrites, resubmitted TWO manuscripts as separate books and they were published days apart. I even liked the covers!

Finally, the novel I’d always wanted to write, but had never had the courage to type a single word until now, was on sale. Albeit in two parts: Nineteen Minutes to Midnight (OG title) and the new part 2, Gone Midnight.

And, as agreed, the first book (or part one, as in my head it was still very much one book) was free to read.

I was really excited to see what people thought – if they’d love the world I’d built in my head. The anticipation was unbearable!

Talk about a lead balloon.

The first reviews came in for Nineteen Minutes to Midnight. There were positives. There were. People liked the characters. They were invested in their adventure. Music to my ears.

But there was one common complaint.

My biggest fears had come true. Despite the book being free, readers were feeling ‘cheated’ that they were only getting half a story. Even the most positive reviews mentioned that it was a shame that it ended where it did.

It was soul-destroying to read, and I still think it’s one of my biggest confidence setbacks since beginning my writing career.

In indie publishing, I’d always trusted my gut. In my writing, I’d always trusted my gut. I should have trusted my gut here too.

But I didn’t.

Hearing people felt ‘cheated’ by a piece of work you poured your heart and soul into is the toughest of tough pills to swallow. Remember when I said at the beginning of this post that writing was an escape, that it was never about the money? Well, this wasn’t fun anymore. One review (and this is what stung the most) said that they enjoyed the book and were invested in the characters, but the fact it was split in half put them off ever reading any of my books again.

Ouch.

Call me naïve, but I hadn’t anticipated the prospect of it damaging my reputation as an author. I don’t know why I hadn’t. After all, it’s my sodding name on the cover! But reading that felt like a sucker punch. The last thing I ever want to do is come across as a conman. Someone who is dangling a carrot in front of the reader’s eye just so they feel forced into buying book 2 to find out what happens in the end.

The reviews were/are justified. It was never supposed to be read like this. I wouldn’t be happy either.

I won’t lie, it would have stung ever-so-slightly less if the book had received a similar reception to North Paradise. A good number of reviews and people enjoyed the story. But how could I expect readers to review it when they felt like they were only reading half a book?

Once again, I don’t want to criticise the publisher for asking me to make this decision. I’m sure they only had the book’s best interests in mind. But what initially felt like a partnership when I first signed the deal was quickly starting to feel like my opinion against theirs.

I’ll say it again: I can write books. I can get them in front of readers apparently – North Paradise is a prime example of that. But I’m not an expert at marketing books. And I’d never done sci-fi before. Was this what a lot of the books did? For the answers I craved, I went to my handy pal, who is always there in my time of need: Reddit. Apparently, cliffhanger endings in sci-fi were a huge turn-off with the majority of answers I read.

I know, I know, this is something I should have researched before making my decision. But after waiting seven months, and really feeling like I was in a corner, under pressure to make a decision, I ultimately made a bad choice.

I hand on heart would have preferred Nineteen Minutes to Midnight to have been read by no one than read by anyone who felt cheated by the way it ended. Please take this as my apology.

It wasn’t all bad though. A few weeks after release, I noticed Nineteen Minutes was number one in two of its three categories. Yay! Perhaps some people didn’t mind the split. Perhaps the majority of people didn’t. But as I write this now, the book has been out for nearly four months. It’s got eight ratings, and part two only has three.

It looks like this big marketing plan doesn’t seem to have worked. At least not for these books. Which is a bit of a stinker because I really do love the story, characters, and I have big plans for the world I’ve started to build.

The original idea was to write it as a trilogy; books one and two to be one book with two more books to follow. I intend to carry on and write the other two books to complete the story, as demotivating as the (un)success of books one…and two have been.

The thing about traditional publishing is I have no idea how well the book is doing in terms of sales. I don’t know how many orders it has had, how many pages have been read. I know nothing.

But worst of all, I can’t edit any of the book’s details to at least put in the description that this story is split into two books. Something I could do quite easily if I’d indie published it. Then again, if I’d indie published it in the first place, I wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.

Like I say, a difficult pill to swallow.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. I had a third and final book on my agreement. My latest thriller, and a return to crime: One Step Closer. I was super proud of this book. I don’t think I’ve ever written a story with so many twists!

I submitted the manuscript, probably with a face which looked like I was chewing a wasp.

Six months passed. Nothing from the publisher.

I chased up, expecting the manuscript to randomly land in my inbox on the following Tuesday afternoon or something. But no. This time I got a different response. Instead of “ we’ll update you when there’s an update,” I got: “ we’re focussing on marketing at the moment, so there is a long delay on new titles.”

It’s a good job I don’t write for a career because I’d be down the job centre on my knees by now. Since signing my contract with the publisher, to now it’s been nearly two years.

I haven’t received a penny for any of my books.

Now, I’m not saying the publisher is refusing to pay me or anything. Absolutely not, and I want to make that clear. It could well be that my royalties need to be at a certain amount before I get paid. Fair enough, this happens with some distributors in indie publishing as well. Draft2Digital have a limit before they will pay out, for example. It’s how it works, and I’ve got no quarrels with it.

But if books are on Amazon, on the shelf (still dreaming), then I, as the author, stand a chance of getting paid. I don’t stand a chance if my unpublished work is sat in someone’s inbox doing nothing because of a ‘long delay’. Again, it’s not about making money, but I wanted to make the point in case any authors considering traditional publishing are reading this blog post.

So, I made a decision. Because of the ‘long delay’, I emailed my publisher asking if there was any chance I could initially indie publish the book and go from there.

It was a long shot. The contract was signed. I owed them this book. Another one destined for the abyss. Ugh!

But to my surprise, they were cool with it. In fact, I’ve since had the rights signed back to me. They were really professional about my situation, and I can’t fault them for that.

I was giddy with excitement. One Step Closer was mine to indie publish. I could release it when I wanted, design my own cover, have it edited by my trusted editor and proofreader. The works. The audiobook is even in production. Something that hasn’t even begun with my first traditionally published novel, Forbidden Shores. Yes, I needed to fund it all, but at this point, I’d learned the hard way that this was the route for me. So, with the release of One Step Closer, I’m also making my long-awaited return to indie publishing. And it feels great!

That doesn’t mean to say I’ve given up on my traditionally published work. Far from it. I will continue to market my other books as best as I know how. But it goes without saying that I will be indie publishing my future work.

Looking back (and it’s not easy to say), traditionally publishing my books has been a huge mistake. It just hasn’t worked for me. I didn’t like the feeling of giving away my work, having minimal say in things like formatting, cover art, and having no say in when it comes out. All stuff which has contributed to my brand as an author over the years – a brand which I continue to evolve day after day.

For some authors, not having the stress of needing to worry about things like formatting, funding an editor or a proofreader, not having to upload and distribute the (correct) final files themselves, sounds like bliss.

For me though, it’s all part of the joy of indie publishing. A joy I’ve missed, but a joy I’m glad to experience again.

The dream of seeing my book in a brick-and-mortar bookshop will have to remain just that: a dream.

For now, at least.

Thanks for reading! I hope this post helps if you’re an aspiring author trying to figure out which way to go.

Alex.