Pub-lished

My first book is out today. Eighty percent of it is set in a pub.

I've always liked pubs. Not just because of their stock. A pub is much more than its stock. The stock is good, mind you. We like the stock. No problem with the stock. Lovely stock. But stock aside, it's a home away from home. The pub is the place many of us choose to spend the major moments. We pop in just before a wedding (and after). It can be a place of solace after we bury a loved one. We celebrate sporting victories. We drown our losses after crushing defeats. Stags. Hens. Communions. Confirmations. Birthdays. The Christmas catch up. A quiet pint. A loud one.

The official metric for judging the size of a town in Ireland is actually based on how many active pubs are in it. How big is Mohill? Eight pubs, you say? Be the feck. Prosperous enough little town. Just the two pubs in Hacketstown these days? Demoted to Hacketsvillage, so.

We've all heard the phrase "if these walls could talk". If they could actually talk, you wouldn't want to be stuck chatting to the walls of a chartered accountants. Or an opticians. They'd bore the arse of you. No, you'd want to have a chinwag with the walls of an old Irish public house. They could spill some juicy goss in fairness. They know it all. They know who's taking over the Chinese takeaway down the road. They know Sharon up the road is having an affair with the husband's brother's physio.

Sharon with the husband's brother's physio

My local is Boland's - a grand spot altogether. I was briefly by myself at the bar one night when I thought of my Grandad. Sources tell me he liked his drink and used to frequent Boland's. I realised that he too probably sat alone at this bar once upon a time. I never met this Grandad yet here we share a connection outside of blood. Times have changed and so has the decor but it's still our local. So, I raised a glass to Mick in heaven. (Fairly full, I was). He probably wouldn't approve of the Birra Morreti or the fancy glass. Sorry, Mick, Guinness gives me heartburn, not strength.

I had another epiphany on a separate occasion in a different pub in the town. It was during a lock-in and I didn't know the barman that well. For whatever reason, he was sharing his favourite horror films to all of us there. I was glossing over a newspaper. At one point I looked up from the paper. The room was dark. It was eerily silent. So much potential. I thought to myself, 'What if something out of the ordinary were to happen tonight? Or what if this barman was an axe murderer?'

And then I ordered a packet of Tayto.

That's where the seeds of Lock-In were sown.  Over the next few months I came up with the outline of a story and its characters. Spoiler alert: the barman isn't an axe murderer. But something out of the ordinary does happen during a lock-in with a group of mid-twenty-somethings.

When Covid arrived, I had no excuse. I could write this badboy once and for all. Alas, while a global pandemic closed down pubs across the world, I got stuck in. Writing a book, I quickly learned, takes fierce discipline. The constant editing, editing and more editing would drive a man to the drink, but I powered through with the help of Eamon at Clear-View Editing. He was brilliant and I can't recommend him enough. Finally, after getting the cover designed, and posting on socials to gather traction, I self-published through Amazon KDP.

The problem, of course, with publishing on Amazon is the fact you're essentially dropping a needle in a haystack. And needles in haystacks don't become bestsellers. This man is under no illusions. I'm still proud of the book, and I'm a better writer now than when I started.

Putting your writing out to the world is a lot like breakdancing to the likes of S Club 7 after a feed of pints. You sweat intensely. You don't really know what you're doing. There are definitely people better equipped to do it instead of you. And it could very well turn ugly quickly. Of course, there'll be those who will laugh and jeer, but if you're enjoying yourself that's all that matters. Ignore the begrudgers. Don't stop, never give up. Hold your head high and reach the top. Etcetera. Etcetera.

All that is left now is hope.

I hope you enjoy it. The book that is, not the breakdancing. I hope it might make you laugh and keep you on the edge of your seat (or high stool). And finally, I hope this won't be the last call, and there'll be more stories to come.

Lock-In is out now in ebook and paperback. Get it on Amazon here