The madness of Spud

Publishing decisions are too important to be made with a clear head, says Alison Lowry

We were standing outside on the balcony, the smoking area of the Baxter Theatre in Cape Town - John van de Ruit, Ben Voss, Ross Garland and me.

Another successful performance of the satirical review Black Mamba was under the belt for the two actors and now it was cold beers all round and some celebrating to be done. But it wasn't the full theatre we were celebrating that night.

It was that rare thing in the book-publishing world: a modest reprint of a fast-selling book called Spud. John had written it and I had published it. The book shops, it was rapidly becoming apparent, couldn't get enough of it.

Ross had snapped up the film rights before the book had even been published and already had casting thoughts racing round his head.

Two beers in and we were all fantasising extravagantly about how many copies we'd eventually sell.

"Come on, A," John prodded. "What's your number - ten thousand? Twenty?"

I smiled the publisher's slightly condescending, kindly smile reserved for authors who know very little about how the book trade works.

"More importantly," I sidetracked neatly (another publishing skill), "we're really here tonight to make an important decision, as you well know."

Ross nodded thoughtfully. Ben signalled for another round. Important decisions, especially publishing ones, shouldn't be taken with too clear a head.

"Ah . the sequel," John said, looking furtive.

"To the sequel!" Ben and Ross chorused, raising their bottles.

"Hang on, I haven't decided yet, have I, A?" said John, looking across at me.

"You know if you do write two Spud books, you'll have to write all four," I pointed out, calculating fast in my head the risk of one modest success versus three duds to follow. Sequels don't always work, as every publisher knows but few fired-up authors comprehend.

"I'm not sure I want to be known only as one type of writer," John added, "for the next four or so years. Perhaps I should rather write something completely different next."

We all nodded seriously. "And anyway, Garland hasn't made me an offer for movie number two yet."

"That's a dropped catch, Ross," said Ben, "but I understand that's your speciality."

John held my gaze. "So what do you think, A? Sequel or write something different?"

I hesitated for a mere heartbeat. Publishers make decisive, sound decisions like this one all the time. "Let's flip a coin. Heads you write a sequel; tails you walk away from Spud."

The coin spun through the air, silvery against the night sky. John slapped it to his palm . We all leaned forward .

"Tails," said John, eyes locked on mine.

No hesitation this time, not from either of us.

"Best of three?" we said simultaneously.

"Is this really how publishing decisions are made?" I heard Ben mutter to Ross.

Ross shrugged. "If it is," he replied, "it's madness."

And so Spud - The Madness Continues began to take shape and a collaboration which probably delivered as much fun and friendship as any publisher could hope for took shape too.

Spud continued to astound with its unstoppable sales and John took up his pen and met with the Crazy Eight in his head to hear what insanities they were planning to get up to in their second year of high school.

Through the months that followed, we established a pattern of working that was to continue until the final book in the series, Spud - Exit, Pursued by a Bear was finished and on the shelves. When John had a chunk of the book ready, we'd meet for a couple of days in the Midlands and work there, in the cradle of Spudkind, as it were.

He would drive up from Durban and I down from Joburg, both armed with notebooks, highlighter pens in several lurid colours, post-it notes, and laptops. Mostly, though, we'd talk, drink whisky, discuss cricket and make each other laugh.

Sometimes I would sternly send John into the bar so I could read the developing manuscript in peace but I'd keep looking up and see an anxious face at the window pretending to look at the view or signalling to me to see if I wanted another cup of tea. "I was watching you and counting the number of pages you turned before I saw you laugh," he would tell me later.

I laughed and I cried and I marvelled and, when it comes to John van de Ruit's extraordinary creative talent, I still do. Me and the half-a-million other South Africans who have bought and enjoyed his books.

• Spud 2 opens in cinemas on June 21.