Skip to main content

Stepping Back To Get It Right


 

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while.

After completing seventeen chapters of The Tides We Bury, I reached a point where I had to stop and be honest with myself. The story was moving forward — but it wasn’t yet the book I originally set out to write.

So I’ve made the decision to go back.

Not to abandon it, but to re-edit, re-shape, and in places re-write, so the novel better reflects the tone, pace, and depth I had in mind when I first began. That means tightening some sections, rethinking others, and giving the story the time it deserves.

This is all part of the process — one that’s rarely talked about, but completely necessary. Writing isn’t a straight line, and sometimes the most important progress happens when you pause, look again, and choose quality over momentum.

I’ll continue to share thoughts, snippets, and updates here as the book evolves. For now, I’m back at the desk, doing the quieter work that readers never see — but always feel.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Woman At The Window

A Short Story  She insisted on a window seat as she bustled into the café from the damp, cobbled streets. Even though the only unoccupied table was laid for four covers, she quickly made her way over to it. After removing her dripping raincoat, she placed it on the back of the corner-most chair and sat down. Barely visible from the dreary street, she sat turned in towards the café, yet continuously glanced through the picture window at the busy road outside. Waiting for someone, maybe. Could they see her? Maybe she wanted them to pass by. Why? She wasn’t what you’d call a pretty woman, but certainly not unattractive. She had olive skin and was smartly dressed in black trousers with stylish calf-length leather boots. Her rust-coloured jumper was a little baggy, but the colourful scarf was a well-considered accessory, giving a much-needed splash of colour. Her wavy, shoulder-length dark brown hair hadn’t fared well in the damp weather — slightly tousled and wet. The glasses she to...

A Swan, a Waterfall, and a Few Quiet Minutes in Madeira

  A few days ago in Funchal, Madeira, we were wandering through the gardens with no real plan, just following the paths to see where they led. It was warm, the sort of easy warmth you only seem to notice when you’re away from home, and the place was full of the sound of running water. We came across a small pool with a waterfall dropping straight down into it, the water falling in a constant white sheet from the rocks above. It was louder than you might expect, but not in an unpleasant way. In fact, it made the whole place feel calm, as if the noise drowned out everything else. Out on the water was a single swan, moving slowly across the pool as if it had all the time in the world. It didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the waterfall crashing down behind it. If anything, it made the scene feel even more peaceful. I took this photograph without thinking too much about it at the time. It just felt like one of those moments worth keeping. When I look at it now, what I rememb...

The Tides We Bury

 I’m currently working on a novel set on the Welsh coast — a place of routine, community, and unspoken understanding. The Tides We Bury is a story about reinvention, loyalty, and what happens when the past decides it’s done waiting. More to come. You’re very welcome to follow the blog for future posts and stories