The Last Murder at the end of the World

A SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Right, there we are. The book’s finished. The curtain’s raised and the house lights are on. If you’re reading this immediately after the last page, your first impressions are probably starting to percolate in your consciousness. Did it go where you were expecting? Did you like where it went? What’s Stu’s problem with the human race anyway?

I won’t interrupt you for too long, because – truthfully – these first few numb minutes after a book ends are my favourite part.

I’m here because I’m about to send my acknowledgements to my publisher and I’ve just realised that you’re not in them, which doesn’t feel right to me. After all, you’re my co-author. We’ve spent hours with our heads down, building this world together. I suggested some stuff, but you dreamed it into being. You’re magic, and that shouldn’t pass without some sort of acknowledgement.

That’s why I’m writing this. I don’t want you to think that I take you for granted. I started my career with the idea that I would write radically different books each time, because that sounded the most fun. I change timelines, genres, characters, worlds. It’s a risky way to build a career, and it wouldn’t work unless you kept reading them. I get to do my job the way I want to do it because of you. That’s an astonishing thing and I’m so grateful.

I know it’s not an easy thing to pick up a book that’s not necessarily in your wheelhouse. Even if you enjoyed my Groundhog Day murder mystery novel, I appreciate that you may not be up for the historical haunted ship book, or the sci-fi apocalypse novel. And, yet, you keep taking a leap of faith.

That matters. That hugely matters. So thank you, everybody. Always, and from the bottom of my heart.

Stu

P.S. Next time we’re doing a more contemporary thriller thing. It’s going to be wild. Hopefully I’ll see you back here.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

They say there’s no wrong way to write a book, but they’re mistaken. There are many wrong ways, and I tried them all. It’s taken me three years to write Last Murder, because I wrote an entirely different book first, then had to rip it up and start again. Deadlines came and went, other projects were shifted, plans were cancelled, and weekends vanished. I made a lot of people’s lives more difficult than they should have been and I truly hate that. Soz everybody.

First amongst the hugely inconvenienced was my wife, Maresa, who has patiently listened to me complain about every character, sentence and paragraph of this book, night after night, for three years. She’s punctured my bad moods, indulged my ridiculous exuberance (a good writing day is something to behold) and helped bring clarity to the word fog. It should be impossible to love somebody this much, but time still slows down when I’m near her.

And now to my editors, Alison Hennessey and Shana Drehs, who must surely have worked out the perfect way to kill me by now. I’m not the ideal author. I deliver drafts late, then rip them up while they’re being edited. I add in elements they hate, remove the ones they like, then randomly change the plot. I’m a Frankenstein-esque creation of towering ambition and utter ineptitude, but they’ve never once let their impatience, disappointment or anger reach me. Their feedback has been spot on, delivered kindly, and has always made the book better – even if it didn’t stay the same book for very long.

For my agent, Harry Illingworth, I’m now basically a dog that keeps pissing on people’s legs before digging up their lawns. His job is to follow behind me, explaining that I’m incontinent but well-meaning. I honestly don’t know how he feels about any of this, but he keeps buying me pints so I think it’s going well. Thanks man.

The magnificent Amy Donegan, Cristina Arreola and Ben McCluskey are my marketing and publicity dream team. They’re the reason people know that I have a book out. They’re the reason people are excited and they’re the reason people buy them. If you’ve heard of me it’s because of them, and I’m extremely grateful.

I need to thank Faye Robinson, who’s my managing editor and is the reason this book is actually a book. I didn’t include her in these acknowledgements initially because I’m a moron, and then had to ask her to drop her own name into the copy at the last minute – which was probably quite mortifying and annoying for her. This example is a microcosm of the chaotic way I work, and something she’s had to deal with throughout this book. She deserves the hugest of thanks. And while we’re thanking people who have to live inside my chaos, I’d like to say ‘cheers and sorry’ to Lindeth Vasey and Jessica Thelander, my most excellent copyeditors and righters of numerous grammatical, structural and mathematical wrongs.

David Mann designed the cover, which is more beautiful every time I see it. Equally remarkable is Emily Faccini, who drew the map of the island. Seeing what these two come up with for each new book is possibly the most exciting part of the process.

Publishing is an enormous enterprise, with the success or failure of a book living and dying on the talent of hundreds of people I’ll never meet. I’m grateful to every single one of you.

And, finally, the hugest of thanks to my mum, dad and sister. Even after all these years, they’re the first people who read my books – even those dreadful first drafts. They’ve always believed in me, even when I didn’t. If you’ve a family like that, you’ll go far.