2024 is going to be the first year since 1980 that there will be no new
Cornwell book delivered to my publisher. I am deeply sorry for that, and for
those of you who were looking forward to Sharpe’s Storm I want to provide a
brief explanation.
2024 has been a year from hell. I won’t go into detail, but just say there
have been too many surgical procedures, chemotherapy sessions, dentists and
hospital visits, and those things play merry hell with a writing schedule.
Nevertheless I had finished about two thirds of the book by July when it all
came to a screeching halt because of the Cape Cod Shakespeare Festival. I had
agreed to play Prospero in The Tempest and a much smaller role in Romeo and
Juliet. I knew, because I first played Prospero in 2016, that the role would
take an immense amount of time; the part is long and not easy. I made an
admittedly feeble effort to refuse and give the role to one of our professional
actors, but the feeble effort was rejected and I had to first relearn the part and
then give up day after day in rehearsals. I don’t regret it because I revel in
being a member of a company composed of enthusiastic and talented young
people (the pic shows me as Prospero and the incredibly talented Sadie O’Conor playing Ariel), but that indulgence meant more time lost. Also it was high summer
which means the boat must be given time too, and so she was (Seraph, it’s an anagram!). I would also like to add that I am now 80 years old and, as the great George MacDonald
Fraser once remarked to me, ‘you slow down at eighty.’ I have.
Sharpe’s Storm was still on track for completion. I needed to write
about five more chapters and all the necessary research was done, but then I
hit a road-block. I knew the events of Storm fell between Regiment and Siege
and, reluctant as I am to re-read my books, I did glance through Sharpe’s Siege
to check some facts and, to my horror, realised that the grand finale I had
planned for Sharpe in Storm was impossible, because it would overlap with
events in Siege. He might be a peerless hero, but even Sharpe cannot be in two
places at once. Normally I would have consulted my extraordinary editor at
HarperCollins to ask whether I could get away with it, but Susan had just
unexpectedly and tragically died, and I was left to conclude that she would
have brusquely told me not to be an idiot and find another solution.
I’m happy to say that I have found a solution which will make Storm a
much better book, but that solution demands intensive research, new chapters
and a monumental rewrite of the existing chapters. Sharpe will be freed of the
two-body problem, and all will be well, but it cannot be well in time for
delivery and publication this year. For that I am sincerely sorry. I like the
book, such as it is, and it certainly puts Sharpe through a monstrous ordeal, but
it must wait for 2025 during which I promise to refuse any major
Shakespearian role and will do my utmost to avoid doctors and, especially, dentists.