To date I have TEN unpublished novels sitting in one of my filing cabinets. I wrote the first one in 1976 while in quarantine in the East African desert in Northern Kenya by the Sudanese border.
Why I spent the best part of my twenties and early thirties writing novels that no-one seemed to want is still a mystery to me. I think some of them are okay - I like the one about the two punk rockers in South America living off lost travellers cheques, and the one I wrote about  

the sixth century saint Mungo, the Last of the Votadini.
The last novel I wrote called Olive and Patrick covering the period 1861 thru 1923 ended abruptly on page 405 when I woke up one morning in my idyllic seaside house on the Clyde and decided enough was enough, it was time to go and make some movies.
Whether I will ever go back to novel writing, I don’t know, maybe some day when life is quieter and the world isn’t always rushing on.

NOVELS