Testing My Patience - Part Two

A writer's journey toward traditional publication

Post Two — The Accidental Apprenticeship

Let me tell you about the two novels that got me here.

Not because they're the reason you're reading this. But because without them there is no here. No query letter. No agent search. No Testing My Patience. No Clonfert.

Every carpenter has a first job. It probably wasn't their best work. But it taught them everything.

Bonkas — 2024

I wrote Bonkas in the aftermath of losing my wife Tracey to cancer in 2022. I have explained this elsewhere so I won't dwell on it here. What I will say is that finishing it — actually finishing it, 70,000 words taken from a single idea in my head to a completed manuscript — taught me something I hadn't known before.

That I could do it.

More than that. That it had always been in me. That whatever this thing is — this need to take an idea and carry it across 70,000 words without losing the thread — I had always had it. I just hadn't known.

Bonkas also taught me that first attempts may look crude in hindsight. Looking back now I can see the foundations were solid but the craft was raw. That's not a criticism. That's what first novels are. Every writer has one. The ones who go on to write a second are the ones who don't let the rawness stop them.

When I finished Bonkas I did what most first time authors do when they have no idea what they're doing.

I found KDP. Amazon's self publishing platform. And I published it.

Nobody told me to. I just wanted to hold a physical copy of my own book in my hands. I wanted to see my name on the cover. I wanted to give a copy to my family. To Tracey's family. That feeling — the first time you hold it — is something I won't apologise for and won't pretend wasn't extraordinary.

It cost me nothing financially. It cost me time. Whether that time could have been better invested in researching agents and seeking traditional publication — probably yes. Was Bonkas ready for that? Was I confident enough? Or was I simply naive enough to see KDP and think — there it is. The way in.

Honestly. All three.

A warning — and I mean this.

Around the time Bonkas began to circulate — amongst friends, family, the people who buy a copy because they love you and want to support you — something else arrived.

The scammers.

I want to be very direct about this because it is an entire criminal industry operating in the shadow of legitimate publishing and it targets writers at their most vulnerable — in that first flush of having finished something they believe in.

They contacted me. Someone in the industry — or so they claimed — had seen my work. They were interested. They had a proposition.

I want to be honest about what that did to me. It knocked me. Not financially — I was cautious enough not to part with money. But emotionally. Because for a brief and ridiculous moment I thought — someone in publishing has seen this. Someone believes in it.

They didn't. They believed in nothing except separating writers from their money and their confidence.

If this happens to you — and it will, if it hasn't already — here is what I need you to hear.

It is not a reflection of your work. It is not the industry telling you something. It is not a sign. It is a criminal operation targeting anyone who has published anything anywhere. They find you. They contact you. They sound convincing.

Do not feel a failure if it catches you off guard. Do not allow the scammer to create self doubt about work that deserves better than that. Believe in your work. Research everything. Pay nothing. And keep going.

The Barn Door Stayed Closed — 2026

I wrote a second novel. A completely different book. I'm proud of it.

And I self published it again.

That's the one I regret. Not writing it. Never that. But the decision to go straight to KDP a second time — yes. By then I knew more. I understood more. I had the confidence of having done it once. I should have paused and asked the question I'm now asking properly for the first time.

Is there another way?

There is. It's just longer. And harder. And slower.

Which brings me to Clonfert.

The Turn

Clonfert arrived differently. It came in twenty minutes amongst headstones in County Cork while my mother's legs got tired. It arrived fully formed — the concept, the two chapters that are the whole book, the reason it needed to exist — before I'd even got back to the car.

I knew immediately it was different. I knew immediately it deserved something different.

So this time I'm going the long way round.

This blog is that journey. In real time. No guarantees.

Two novels written. One apprenticeship served.

Now we find out if the craft is ready.

— Steve