Dark Fire

Dark Fire was my first published book, and I couldn’t believe it. It began as a serious piece of speculative fiction based on reincarnation and Past Life Regression, exploring the linguistic patterns of Jacobean and early Eighteenth language. A hard sell, as you can imagine and rejected by every publisher it was sent to—until an American friend told me what it lacked. Sex. It needed sex. Sex sells, she said with some authority.

Bit of a rum do, but whatever. I pondered for a minute or two and then set to it, first by ploughing through some ‘hot romance.’ Testing the market only, I assure you. 

Well, it all seemed straightforward enough and so, with some confidence, I inserted four or five stonking sex scenes. A week later it was accepted by an American publishing house Red Sage, which specialised in sex and spicy romance. 

 

I learnt three lessons from the process—four if you count the obvious—sex sells.

 

First study your contract. In my case it gave Red Sage indefinite ownership of my story, not a good deal and I should have known better. The second lesson I learnt was that unless you’re a big-name author, by the time the publisher has taken its percentage, you actually earn very little. And finally, you have little say in the design of your cover. 

They presented four options, which included a scantily dressed medieval woman in thigh length boots and a whip, I settled on a neutral stock photo and a friend added shadow and flames – the only input allowed. 

It was after that I decided to go ‘Indie,’ where I continue to earn a modest amount but more than the traditionally published Dark Fire. In fact I forgot all about it.

The book, though has recently earned a new lease of life. Its original publisher ceased operations, and all rights were returned to the author.

And this is where my daughter, a brilliant but ruthless stand-up comedian, Frances Keyton, got involved. She first pretended shock that her father had written a ‘dirty book,’ and then proceeded to capitalise on the fact, pressurising me to re-release it, so she could use it as part of her act.

All publicity is good publicity, right? Hmm, the jury’s still out, but I live in hope, a cult figure on the comedy circuit?  All I know it’s selling again—for the sex or Bunyanesque prose? Who knows.