Marc Nobbs: Blog

Two weeks ago, I announced that I’d completed the first draft of “A Healing Love.” Since then, I’ve kept my head down and switched over from ‘creative’ mode to ‘editing’ mode.

Initially, I read through the book as if I were a reader (or tried to do so) over the weekend of the 17th and 18th. That’s actually a really difficult thing for the author of a piece to do. I know what I wanted to say. I know what I meant. Putting yourself in the position of someone who doesn’t have access to my inner workings is a challenge.

After that, I began a thorough and careful read-through and edit last week. Line by line. Scene by scene. Chapter by chapter. That work is ongoing. I’m currently about halfway through chapter ten.

It’s demanding work, requiring a certain ruthlessness. You might adore a particular passage, but if it doesn’t serve the scene, then you need to make the difficult decision to cut it.

At other times, you’ll discover a passage and think, “That doesn’t quite get across what I want,” or “that doesn’t quite make sense,” and find yourself rewriting the whole passage. This is all in addition to the standard checks for grammar, spelling, and missing or misused words. While challenging, the process is incredibly rewarding; you witness the manuscript evolving and improving with every revision, no matter how minor.

Let me give you an example of the kind of decisions I’m having to make:

Chapter Nine features Paul’s first formal meeting of the Board of Directors of his new company, and I think I’ve done a pretty good job of having Bobby and David explain some fairly dense and dry accounting principles to Paul, most importantly Balance Sheets, Assets and Liabilities. After explaining to Paul that his new company has one asset, its bank account, and one liability, Paul’s share capital, and, importantly, why Paul’s share capital is a liability, the next step was to explain that the balance sheet has to balance, and so a new line needs to added to it to take account of any difference between the assets and the liabilities.

I used the interest earned on the money in the bank as an example. The bank account earns interest and so its value as an asset goes up, but Paul’s share capital stays the same, so there is a need to add an “Earnings” line in the balance sheet to account for the difference.

So far, so good. For readers unfamiliar with these concepts, it can be complex. I hope I’ve managed to have David and Bobby explain it simply enough for both Paul and the audience to grasp.

But…

I did go into too much detail.

Paul’s company actually has two bank accounts: a current account, which doesn’t bear interest, and a reserve account, which does. Each night, funds are automatically shifted between them to maintain a minimum balance in the current account while maximising interest earned. I initially had David explain this to Paul as well.

But was this detail important?

It was important to me, but I’m quite anal about these kinds of details. But is it important for the reader to know this?

Probably not.

So, it was cut. This necessitated adjustments to the remainder of the meeting, but as much as I appreciated that small detail of Paul’s financial life, it ultimately didn’t significantly contribute to the core discussion between Paul, Bobby, and David. It didn’t justify its inclusion.

So far, in the ten chapters I’ve gone through, there have been three or four such cases.

I don’t have an editor—I’m very much on my own with this, and that’s fine. I’m quite happy to do it. I am making use of the tools available to me, be that Word’s built-in grammar and spell checkers, Grammarly or Gemini. Three useful tools that can all be used in slightly different ways.

You do need to be careful, though, particularly with Grammarly and Gemini. It would be terribly easy to feed a passage, scene or chapter into those tools, say “please improve,” and just accept the result. But I think that would be a very bad way to use them, and it’s not how I use them.

Grammarly works as a Word plug-in. It reads the text of my document and highlights sections of the text with a thick red underline for ‘errors’ and a thick blue underline for ‘suggestions’. This is similar to the way that Word’s built-in tools highlight mistakes and suggestions, but the style of the highlight is different enough to see which comes from which tool at a glance.

Grammarly is very good at spotting errors, better even than Word’s built-in tools. This includes spelling errors and grammar slips, but it’s also very good at missing and misused words. It’s very useful in this regard.

The tool also includes style suggestions. Some of these suggestions are very good, while others are… not. And as an author, I find myself dismissing more of these suggestions than I accept. I don’t want Grammarly rewriting my authorial voice, so I just won’t let it.

Which brings me to Gemini, something I’ve written about before. It’s an incredibly powerful tool and, as long as you are very careful how you use it, very, very useful.

You have to be strict with it. One of the standing instructions in the chat I’m using for this task is “DO NOT ALTER THE TEXT YOU ARE PRESENTED WITH IN ANY WAY.” I can’t stress how important that is for me. I do not want, in any way, for Gemini to make changes to my text without my 100% approval. I’m happy for it to point out weaknesses in the text that can be improved or even suggest what those improvements could be, but it’s my job to do any rewrites, not Gemini’s.

The main areas I’ve got Gemini looking at are:

Proofreading: A final check after Word and Grammarly, catching lingering stylistic points or missed errors. It’s picking up some things, usually stylistic rather than errors, but it has still picked up things that I’ve missed.
Style and Flow: This is probably the most useful thing it’s doing for me, identifying awkward phrasing, logical gaps, or sections that feel out of place. Crucially, it also affirms what does work and why—an invaluable insight.

Clarity and Conciseness: This is related to the above and is proving to be just as useful.
Word Choice: I’ve asked Gemini to comment on my word choice and point out areas where it could be stronger, more dynamic or more evocative.

Variety of sentence structure: This isn’t massively important, but it is helpful to get feedback on how much variety there is in the text. Variety tends to keep readers more engaged than uniformity.
Pacing: Apparently, I’m quite good at this. Gemini consistently describes the pacing of scenes and chapters as ‘masterful’—a reassuring piece of feedback.

Show, Don’t Tell: Again, this is something I think I’m pretty good at anyway, but it’s good to have that confirmed and to point out when I’m telling rather than showing, so I can decide if that needs to be changed.

Passive Voice: Historically, one of my weak spots, so getting Gemini to pick out where I’ve used it is really useful.

Repetition: Something else that I’ve done historically, so this is a useful back-stop to have, highlighting repetitions, forcing an examination of whether they are effective or could be refined. It’s about prompting critical thought.

Dialogue: Unrealistic sounding dialogue is one of my bug-bears, so I’ve asked Gemini to check if my dialogue sounds authentic. It’s also checking if the dialogue serves its purpose – is it advancing the plot or revealing something about the characters? If not, why is it even there?

Editing a 200,000-word novel is a daunting task. But making use of the tools available to me is making it a little bit easier, a little bit quicker and, I think, means I’m doing a lot better job of it than not using tools.

The way things are going, I think I’ll have done the first pass in another couple of weeks.

After two years,

43 Chapters,

203,617 words,

I just typed these words at the end of the manuscript.

**THE END OF ‘A HEALING LOVE’**

**THE PAUL ROBERTSON SAGA WILL BE CONTINUED**

You have no idea how high I am right now.

Still some hard work ahead. Editing, formatting, more editing, revision after revision.

But GOOD GOD DAMN, I'm so happy right now.

It all comes down to this: One Last Push. One Last Scene. Almost two full years after the release of “A Wounded Heart”, the first draft of “A Healing Love” is nearly done.

Two years of hard work, emotional upheaval, and crafting new characters and new settings. Two years of falling in love with my female lead (again). Two years of the joyous highs of near-effortless creation and the depressing lows when the words wouldn’t flow.

But one last push, and it will all have been worth it.

It’s been a tough few days. A few personal issues that I won’t go into haven’t helped, but above all that, writing this final chapter of “A Healing Love” has been a thoroughly emotionally draining experience. I began writing Paul’s story fifteen years ago. The new female lead is… God, she’s a sweetheart, and I love her. I’ve been living with, and very much invested in, these characters for a very long time and crafting that bittersweet yet hopeful ending has taken a lot out of me.

Ensuring it resonates authentically for Paul, Carly, and, crucially, the reader has demanded every ounce of creative energy in me and at times left me a blubbering mess.

But the finish line is in sight. I’m now just one scene away from finishing this first draft. Those three short words—”TO BE CONTINUED”–are only a few thousand words from being typed at the end of the manuscript.

And this final scene… it’s a pivotal one. It’s the moment that plants the seeds of hope for Paul’s future, a glimmer of light after all the darkness he’s experienced in the formative years of his young life.

At least, that’s the intention—to offer the reader a sense of hope for Paul’s journey ahead. Paul himself? He won’t quite grasp its significance yet; that deeper understanding is something I’m carefully building towards for the fifth and (fingers, toes, and everything crossed!) final book in the series.

But I’m nearly there. The completion of a first draft is always a momentous occasion, and at nearly 200,000 words, this one feels even more so. There’s still a winding road ahead—editing, polishing, revising—but the end is in sight. Completing the first draft means I can set a release date. Give myself a deadline to work to.

The day my readers get to experience the next stage of Paul’s journey is getting closer.

One last push. Pour me a big mug of tea. Start up my “writing playlist” on Spotify. Let’s get this first draft over the line.

One of the absolute privileges of being an author – especially one fitting writing around a busy life – is connecting with readers. Sometimes, an email or message lands in your inbox that does more than just provide feedback; it offers a window into the reader's experience and provides a powerful jolt of motivation.

I received one such email recently that truly brightened my day, and with the sender’s kind permission (keeping their identity anonymous, of course!), I wanted to share a little about it, because it highlights so much about why reader engagement is incredibly special.

The Deep Dive

This reader had recently discovered The Paul Robertson Saga and apparently found it hard to put down – they devoured the first three books in just three consecutive days. They even joked that “sleep is vastly overrated,” which I’m sure many fellow bookworms can relate to. Hearing about that kind of immersive reading experience is honestly one of the highest compliments an author can receive. It tells you the world you built felt real enough to get lost in.

The Moment of Panic (We’ve All Been There!)

Upon finishing Book 3, they immediately went looking for Book 4. When it wasn’t easily found where they looked, they described that sinking feeling many of us have felt when engrossed in a series – the sudden fear: Is this all there is? Life happens, authors get busy, and sometimes, sadly, series don’t continue. It’s a real risk readers take, especially with authors who aren’t household names.

Relief and Reassessment

Thankfully, their search led them here, to the blog, where they found reassurance that Paul’s story is indeed ongoing. Phew! That feeling of relief they described is something I felt too, reading their email!

They were also incredibly candid, mentioning their initial thought that, being less well-known, perhaps I was an “amateur.” (A term I don’t shy away from, by the way. Writing is my passion and hobby, squeezed in around a full-time job, so while I strive for professionalism, “hobbyist” is accurate.)

But reading the books changed their perspective. They offered truly generous praise about the characters coming to life, calling the writing skilled – using terms that genuinely humbled me. It was a wonderful reminder that readers connect with the story itself, regardless of labels.

The Power of Emotional Connection

Perhaps the most touching part was their honesty about the story’s emotional impact. They shared that a certain character’s passing moved them to tears, even though they saw it coming. In a follow-up, they even admitted another poignant scene later in the series had the same effect – something they confessed with humour about potentially needing to hand in their “man card”!

As an author, hearing this is profoundly meaningful. Knowing that characters you’ve crafted, scenes you’ve agonised over, can evoke genuine tears and strong emotions in a reader… well, that’s the magic connection you hope and strive for. (And don’t worry, reader, your tearful moments remain completely anonymous, your reputation secure.)

Why Your Feedback Matters

This reader graciously allowed me to share parts of their experience, and I’m so thankful – not just for the permission, but for the time and thoughtfulness they put into their messages.

Emails like this are fuel. They are validation. They are the encouragement needed to keep going, to push through edits, to wrestle with plot points, and to keep sharing these stories. It’s a reminder that there are real people out there embarking on these journeys with your characters.

So, to this wonderful reader, and to everyone who takes the time to read, review, or send a message – thank you. You have no idea how much it means.

Now, energised by this connection, it’s back to work on bringing the final, edited version of Book 4 to life!

This entry is a summation of the last few updates I posted on my Website, covering the month of March.

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It's been an eventful few weeks in my world, including but not limited to writing "A Healing Love," and I wanted to share some updates on the progress, the process, and a few challenges along the way.

Back in late February, I found myself needing a short break from the manuscript. Writing the recent chapters (around Chapter 35) proved to be incredibly rewarding – some of the best writing I feel I've ever done – but also intensely emotionally draining. Living with these characters (Paul, Clarissa, Emily, Mark, Imogen, and the others) for over a decade means they feel very real, and their experiences resonate deeply. Crafting a particularly moving speech for Paul at the launch of "The Clarissa Trust," where he speaks directly to the award recipients, hit me quite hard. Sometimes, you just need to step away, even if briefly (in my case, for some GTA Online!). But after that short pause, I was ready to dive back in.

My return to writing led to completing Chapter 36, though it turned out differently than I initially expected. After finishing the emotional arc of Chapter 35, I found that the subsequent section I wrote, intended as the start of Chapter 36, felt like a natural continuation rather than a distinct new chapter. They were connected yet relatively short on their own.

So, I made the decision to combine them. While I worried this might dilute the impact of Chapter 35's original ending, I found it actually strengthened the narrative, carrying the themes forward seamlessly. The result is that the "Chapter 36" that's now complete serves as more of a transitional chapter, moving the story forward from recent events towards the book's conclusion. This process also saw the manuscript grow significantly, pushing past the 165,000-word mark and making me reconsider my initial estimate for the first draft's final length.

More recently, the infamous financial year-end crunch has descended. As many of you know, my 'IRL' job is managing finances for a law firm. March (our company year-end) and early April (the UK tax year-end) create a perfect storm of deadlines: closing deals, invoicing, budget planning, salary reviews, and this year, an added rush from changes to Stamp Duty Land Tax. It's hectic, stressful, and leaves little energy left at the end of the day.

This inevitably impacts evening writing sessions for "A Healing Love." While I'm still trying to squeeze in writing whenever possible, progress is slower when your day job is so demanding. Compounding this is a challenge with the writing itself: crafting the book's ending.

When I started "A Healing Love," it was meant to be the final book in the Paul Robertson Saga, complete with a planned happy ending. However, the story grew far beyond my initial scope. It became clear that, unless I wanted a single book far longer than any previous one (the current draft is already nearing 170,000 words, significantly longer than "A Tortured Soul"), it needed to be split into two.
This means the ending I'm writing now isn't the ultimate conclusion, but rather the midpoint – the end of book four, which serves as the catalyst for the final happy ending in book five. This presents the difficult task of writing a bitter-sweet ending, which I find the hardest kind to craft. There's also a character complication: someone I originally intended to act poorly to drive the plot forward has evolved as I've written her. I've grown attached, and making her act against the grain of who she's become feels wrong. It's a classic case of falling in love with the heroine all over again!

It's definitely a "me" problem, and one I'll need to navigate to serve the story. Despite the hurdles – the emotional toll, the necessary restructuring, the demands of the day job, and the complexities of a bitter-sweet, catalytic ending – I'm determined to push through and bring this part of Paul's journey to its conclusion.