And a Happy New Year to you all.

Well that was 2019. Glad to see the back of it. Having said which, not much more than a week into 2020 as I start typing this newsletter, things don't seem to have changed all that much for the better. Ah well. Let's make the best of it we can.

You're reading the newsletter of author and farmer James Oswald, presumably because you thought it was a good idea once. If you don't any more, then please accept my apologies. You can unsubscribe at any time, either by using the link at the bottom of this email, or by replying with 'unsubscribe' in the message. Have a read on first, though. You might find something interesting.

The reply email address comes straight to me, so if you've any burning questions you want to ask, observations you want to make, offers of film production or the like, feel free to get in touch.

The build up to the launch of Inspector McLean book ten - Bury Them Deep - is in full swing now. eBook proof copies have been available on Netgalley, and print copies have gone out to the great and the good (and some of you newsletter subscribers). There's an anxious period between the sign off of the final page proofs and the first reader reactions. Is the book any good? Is this the one where I'm found out for the fraud that I am? Have I forgotten how to write? Early indications are that I might have got away with it once again. It's only a matter of time though...

On the self-publishing front, I'm pleased if not astonished by the sales of the two Inspector McLean books I've put out in eBook form in the US and Canada so far. They're shifting about fifty copies a month between the two of them, which means they've more than paid for their covers in the first couple of months of availability. It's great to be getting money back from Amazon, rather than sending it to them all the time.

The Benfro books, perhaps predictably, have not sold much at all. I've recently discovered that Penguin have had the series available in the US as eBooks despite them not having the US rights, which is naughty. Given that they've been charging upwards of ten dollars apiece for them, I can't imagine they've sold many either. It would explain the tiny figure on my last royalty statement for international eBook sales though.

You can find links to the US eBook editions for all of my books on my website, where I have been laboriously updating all the purchase options for each title, one by one. 

In better news, the PLR statement came through and once more I've maxed out. For those of you who don't know what any of that means, PLR stands for Public Lending Rights, which is a scheme by which authors are paid a small amount every time one of their books is loaned out by a public library. Last year's rate was 9.03 pence per loan, which doesn't sound all that much until you realise that Cold As The Grave was borrowed almost 10,000 times,  No Time To Cry almost 13,000 times and The Gathering Dark was borrowed a staggering 22,000 times. All of my books together were taken out of UK libraries almost 100,000 times. 

The total amount any author can earn is capped at £6,600. Otherwise Lee Child and David Walliams would get it all. This is the seventh year I've had published books eligible for the scheme, and the fifth in a row that I've reached the cap. I won't deny that the money isn't welcome - cow food ain't cheap! - but perhaps more important to me is the knowledge that so many people who might not be able to afford to buy books regularly, nevertheless have access to libraries and actually use them. Long may both those things continue.

Farming News
 

 

It's been a horrible, boggy month. According to our weather station, the total rainfall for the whole of 2019 was less than a metre, and yet it feels like all of that fell over the Christmas break. Everywhere is soggy underfoot, or half a metre of mud that threatens to suck you down and turn you into a peat bog man. Or at the very least steal your wellingtons.

We brought the bull and his older sons down to the near field to overwinter, which would have been fine most years. Parts of the field look like Glastonbury when the rains come, although without the endless miles of fallen over portaloos, discarded tents and single use plastic water bottles. Normally we don't house the cattle at all, but this year I've opened up the big shed so that Plums and sons can get inside if they want. As soon as they worked out they were getting fed in there too, they pretty much took up permanent residence.
 

All the cattle on the farm over two years old will have to be blood tested in the coming weeks. We are in the Scottish Agricultural College Premium Cattle Health Scheme, which is both quite a mouthful and means the animals have to be regularly tested for a number of diseases, and any animals coming onto the farm have to be quarantined until they too have been scanned and cleared.

Our vet will do that actual blood sampling, and pregnancy scan the breeding cows at the same time. It's a bit of a logistical nightmare though, since we have two separate groups and only one cattle crush in which to hold them while the sample is taken. The four steers and Wee Jock the bull will be tested down in the shed, but then I will have to dismantle the kit and take it up to the area on the hill where we usually handle the rest of the cattle. That means two vet visits, since they're unlikely to want to hang about while I move heavy kit with the tractor. Two call-out fees, plus the time it takes to sample 32 animals and scan 16 of them for calves, the cost soon mounts up. And that's before the samples have been analysed.

Sometimes, as happened a couple of years ago, the blood sample taken is insufficient (or there was a cock-up at the lab but they don't want to admit it). In perhaps a back-handed compliment, my vet told me that my cows were so relaxed it was hard finding a vein to take the blood from, and even when she did it flowed so slowly it took forever to fill the sample tube. Perhaps I should try to wind them up a bit more, but I've always found calm and patient is the best way to deal with cows, and I've only been kicked once in many years of handling. The downside is that I sometimes have to get the vet out to take another sample, again at my own expense. No one said farming was easy!

What I'm Up To
 

Not long after I pinged off the last newsletter, my lovely publisher, Wildfire, sent me the above poster graphic to use on all my social media. Here's the details for those who need spectacles to read.

There will likely be other events and signings to celebrate the new book. I'll be attending the usual crime fiction festivals over the course of the year. 

Ably narrated by Jude Owusu, this is the first book in the upcoming Tide Child trilogy, following the (mis)adventures of the crew of Tide Child, a black ship of the dead in the Hundred Isles. This is perfectly formed, epic fantasy, so beautifully written you can almost smell the salt spray of the ocean.

Gareth L Powell is better known for his Embers of War SF books I've raved about here before. This is a shorter, more contemporary crime story, set on the rugged Welsh coast, but with a little bit of something creepy and other-worldly added into the mix. Which you might have guessed is exactly how I like my crime fiction.
 

This book is being re-released following the success of Tade Thompson's Rosewater series (which I now have lined up to read/listen to). It's an extraordinary tale of chaos and corruption in a small West African failed state. The twists and turns are unexpected but never contrived; the moments of terror underscored by a subtle humour and all written in prose that just begs you to keep turning the pages. It's out in March, and you should keep an eye out for it.
 

My first Oonagh O'Neil Investigation, but certainly not my last. This story deals with the fallout from young boys abused by their football coach - something that has been in the news in Scotland recently. Theresa Talbot is a journalist and news presenter on TV and Radio, and her main character, Oonagh, brings something different from the usual grizzled cop to her tales of Glasgow's underbelly.

And here's what's currently being loaded into my brainpan:

On the headphones - The Chemical Detective by Fiona Erskine, narrated by Ana Clements
On the kindle - Thunder Bay by Douglas Skelton, By Force Alone by Lavie Tidhar
In print - A Dark Matter by Doug Johnstone, The Silent House by Nell Pattison

Well, that's probably enough from me for now. I hope you've enjoyed this newsletter (and One Good Deed if you've clicked through to read it). More of the same next month, when the frenzy around Bury Them Deep builds to fever pitch.

Meantime, these are the dark months, when the demons come to visit. Watch out for them - the sneaky bastards can creep up unawares. But we're past the hump now, and each new day is a little longer, a little lighter than the last. You are strong. You can do this.