The Edinburgh Dead

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So, the manuscript for The Edinburgh Dead will be going to the publisher soon (i.e. weeks rather than months), hence relative quietness around here recently.  But I thought now might be the moment to check out a picture, taken by my own fair hand:

Yes, it’s a graveyard with a fortified watchtower in it.  Why, you may wonder, would the good citizens of Edinburgh have found it necessary to defend their cemetries with miniature castles?  Here’s a case where the past, when viewed from enough temporal or moral distance, starts to look every bit as unfamiliar as any invented fantasy world.  It’s a pretty well known, if sordid, tale of our past, so will come as no surprise to many of you, but in 18th and 19th century Edinburgh – and a good few other places in the UK, since this was by no means a purely Edinburgh phenomenom – the dead required heavy duty protection of this sort against the living.  Strange, but very much true.

Fresh corpses were so much in demand for dissection in anatomy classes at the then flourishing universities, and in private anatomy schools of which there were a great many, that a veritable industry sprang up: graverobbing.  As I said, a well known tale, so no great surprise.  But this watchtower thing is a particular flourish on the story that I love.  Several of Edinburgh’s graveyards still have them: fortifications from which armed men could keep watch for the dreaded graverobbers (or Resurrection Men, which is the rather more dramatic name for them I prefer).

When you stop and think about it, it’s just too strange for words.  One of the country’s greatest cities had castellated towers in its cemetries, because a certain number of its citizens, including eminently respectable and indeed famed teachers of the medical sciences, were engaged in a racket that involved exhuming the corpses of innocent fellow citizens and cutting them up for the edification of students.  Weird.  And an enormously tempting historical oddity to play around with in fantactical fiction, of course.  Which brings me back to: the manuscript for The Edinburgh Dead will be going to the publisher soon (i.e. weeks rather than months).

The Tools of my So-Called Trade

What I’m Up To

I did virtually no specific research for The Godless World, but things are a bit different now. The Edinburgh Dead requires me to drag myself away from the computer now and again, and do some proper work. There is, incredible as it might seem, some stuff that – as far as I can tell, anyway – the internet does not yet know, which suits me just fine because I seriously like a bit of research: digging around in old books (courtesy of the excellent National Library of Scotland) or, as I was doing yesterday morning, descending into the bowels of Edinburgh City Chambers in search of the City Archives. And once I got there I spent a very happy couple of hours perusing an unpublished phD thesis from 1996 on the subject of the 19th century beginnings of Edinburgh’s police force. Now and again this writing lark is very cool. (this depends, obviously on your definition of cool: and yes, mine does include discovering and reading vaguely obscure documents in slightly strange places. I’m funny like that.)

It’s a strange feeling, making fiction – and fantastical, dark fiction at that – out of bits of real history. It’s trespassing in the lives of real people, and putting words into their mouths and deeds – sometimes downright villainous ones – into their hands. It feels like taking a liberty with their memory, even the ones who were downright disreputable and murderous in reality. The city itself, though, is a much easier subject to work with. Edinburgh’s soaked to its rocky bones in history, much of it darker and stranger than anything a mere writer could come up with, and using it as the stage for a drama feels entirely natural and appropriate.


I’ve got the perfect excuse, now, to wander around Edinburgh’s Old Town, tracking down ancient alleyways that have been the scenes of murder, debauchery and mystery for hundreds of years. Even now, in the midst of the Festival(s), when the main streets are so full of tourists you can hardly move, the canyon-like closes are still and quiet and full of atmosphere. They feel old, and patient. Perfect venues for fictions.

And while I’m wandering around with my head in the 19th century, searching out the bits of the past that have survived, pondering the dastardly deeds – real and invented – that I’ll populate these byways with, everyone else is milling about in a crazy, Festival-fuelled present in which mermaids pose beside statues of great philosophers (David Hume, famous son of Edinburgh, in this case)

Funny old world.

As promised in the last post here, some brief details on the new book I’m writing. Yes, the fine folks at Orbit, in their infinite wisdom, seem to feel that the world could withstand further literary output by yours truly. (I say wisdom, but it might just be some ghastly administrative error on their part, of course. No matter. They signed the contract, so they’re stuck with me now).

The working title (and so far everyone, including me, seems to quite like it, so I imagine it’ll probably survive all the way through to publication) is The Edinburgh Dead. The setting is, as you might guess, Edinburgh; specifically, Edinburgh in the first half of the 19th century. Since I write fantasy rather than history, though, it’s not quite as simple as that.

I’m taking some gruesome and rather famous aspects of Edinburgh’s past and spicing them up a bit with veteran warriors, magical conspiracies, killers both human and decidedly not, desperate combat and sinister goings-on in general. In short, it’s a dark, heroic fantasy set in 19th century Edinburgh. With swords and gaslamps.

As for publication date – because I know someone will ask about that sooner rather than later – I can’t say exactly, but I’ll be delivering the manuscript next year and barring exceptional circumstances it takes at least nine months, more likely something approaching twelve, to go from that point to publication. So you can do the math yourselves.

I’m having a lot of fun working on this so far. It’s a stand alone novel, and that makes a very pleasant change after turning out a hefty trilogy like The Godless World. I’ll no doubt report back here on the creative process and progress (watch out for that mid-book slump of despair and self-doubt!), but I’ll leave it there for now. Got stuff to write.