Monday, June 30, 2003
Glastonbury 2003 Diary Day One (Friday)
I'm not at all good at early starts but I click awake at 5.59, a minute ahead of the alarm clock. I'm ready to go when the taxi shows up at 6.30. I'm the first to arrive at Rob's (our companions living much closer to him) but we're on the road by seven, stopping only for a second breakfast somewhere on the M5. Traffic is light and we approach the festival site through back lanes. There's no queuing whatsoever, in stark contrast to my 2000 experience (this diary will assume you've read my 2000 diary and the novel Festival). The main suspense is whether there'll be room in the hospitality car park (there's loads) and - now this is more familiar - when it will stop raining. For the light spots that greet us as we park the car are soon superseded by increasingly heavy rain. We look for a spot to camp. The only remaining space big enough for four in a row is on a slope, near the stream.
I get mine up first and am soon queuing in the crowded hospitality bar. We sink a couple before the rain diminishes and go to catch the last of Echo And The Bunnymen. Ian McCulloch can write songs of heart-rending beauty but, in person, plays the archetypal Scally smartarse (sample intro - 'anyone here from Newcastle/Gateshead? Your city's shite!') and the end of the set sags badly.
De La Soul made one great album a decade or so ago but the snippet I see of them is shouty and annoying, like a lot of live hip-hop. Pretty soon, I'm in my tent, catching up on some sleep while Tom McRae lullabys me (our tents are very close to the Other Stage). Outside, the sun comes out, burning off most of the mud. When we stumble out to the Other Stage just after 4PM, Yo La Tengo are playing my favourite of their songs. I stick around for their set, forgetting that I'd planned to catch some of Mogwai. This Glasto, I'm determined to go with the flow, rather than timing myself with military precision as I did in 2000.
The big advantage of the Hospitality area isn't the bar (more expensive, harder to get served) or John Peel brushing past you, but that, being in the centre, it's easier to get everywhere: you can cut straight through the middle of the festival site rather than wading through crowds and becoming increasingly disoriented.
I only speak to one 'celebrity' all weekend. As I'm leaving the bar, I spot Luke Haines, the Graham Greene of English rock, wearing a black suit, the elbow spattered with mud, with a couple of young women. I've noticed that his 'hobby' band, Black Box Recorder, are down to play in the Guardian mini programme, but they don't feature in any of the publicity or the daily 'Q' festival paper, so I go over and ask him when and if they're playing. He tells me they're on instead of the Kills that evening. He doesn't know what time and asks 'Sarah'. I realise I'm standing next to BBR singer, Sarah Nixey, who I spent an hour ogling in 2000. In denim, minus her make-up and frosty stage demeanor, she's small and pretty and tells me when they're on. I say a few nice things about BBR's last Glasto appearance and shake Luke's hand - and that's the total of my weekend's ligging - unless you count my taking a copy of Festival to the 'Q' office for self promotion purposes.
At least I resisted the temptation to tell Luke that BBR are far too studied a concept to make it in the mainstream. Nor can they completely convince the fans of his 'real' band, the Auteurs, who seem to be in retirement at the moment. BBR's set in the New Bands tent at 7.20 is better than that of Brendan Benson, who precedes them, but rarely catches light (Girl Singing In The Wreckage and Lord Lucan Is Missing come off best - in fact, SGITW seems to stuck in my head at the moment).
For the rest of the evening I attempt to avoid seeing David Gray, who I loathe, while still getting a good spot for my favourite band, REM - the main reason I had to come to Glastonbury this time (as it turned out, I saw them play a superb set at Brixton Academy three nights ago, but I didn't know they'd be doing a small warm-up gig when I applied for a Glasto ticket). I catch the end of Beth Orton on the One World Stage, having to keep moving closer because the sound seems to be drifting. I've seen her before and love her albums, but live, she can be irritating, as she has a habit of mucking up one song in three (here, it's Central Reservation that's completely out of time) and talking drivel between songs. (She calls out 'enjoy Glastonbury. It's your rite of passage' after one song - condescending if true, which it isn't for 99% of the crowd). The Sweetest Decline is nice, though.
I've arranged to meet Rob in the bar (I sit near an Oscar nominated actress who my partner used to teach) but he isn't there by half ten. I'm determined to get a good place for REM so set off on my own, working my way in from stage front right until I'm to the left of the video screen, about fifteen metres from the speaker and twenty metres from centre stage - the furthest I've been from the band in all but one of the eight times I've seen them, but pretty damn close all the same. It's absolutely rammed, as they say these days, and there's a strong sense of anticipation. The crowd is really mixed, impossible to categorise.
REM are my favourite band, have been since 1984. My old home page used to carry a cartoon of me wearing an REM T-shirt. The first chapter of my first novel contained a line from Popsong '89 (until the reissue when the publishers could no longer get copyright clearance and I had to replace it with a paraphrase). Why? It's got nothing to do with their politics, though I broadly share them, or their most popular songs, most of which I'm fed up of Losing My Religion is great, but I've heard it too many times, unlike the great song that is LMR's immediate forerunner, World Leader Pretend. I like them because their songs intrigue me, move me and sometimes make me want to throw myself all over the place. They come out of a recognisable rock tradition (a vague similarity to the Byrds first drew me to them) yet are uniquely, undeniably themselves. Also, they're terrific live and - unlike many, indeed most bands - they treat their fans incredibly well. Yes, I'm the same age as the band and I belong to their fan club.
The stage set is the same as at Brixton, three nights before. Michael Stipe is in ebullient form, if less chatty than at Brixton. It's a carefully balanced classics/greatest hits set. They do six songs they didn't play the other night (though not Cuyahoga my favourite song, which they seem to play often, but I've never seen them do). Begin The Begin kicks things off and they're very tight, with a crunchy sound that's just loud enough. Later, they do my favourite REM 'dance' number What's the Frequency Kenneth?. It's odd not to be in a position to throw myself around (probably a good thing though - I'd work up such a sweat I'd be rank for the rest of the showerless weekend to come). The crowd swaying around is reserved for the 'big' numbers, like Losing My Religion which the crowd go mad for. I join in - it would be churlish not to. In this atmosphere even the couple of songs I'm not keen on seem great. I don't mind that the girl next to me is shouting along in a horrendously out of tune voice (after all, so am I). Between songs, we make friends and I help her on and off her boyfriend's back.
The band slip their anti-war-on-Iraq song The Final Straw into the encore, though I doubt anyone can follow the words. They finish with the obligatory, cathartic It's The End Of The World As We Know It. The crowd is so vast, it takes me an age to work my way round to the hospitality entrance, elated like a football fan who's seen his team score a huge away win. I'm pleased without being delirious as I was after Brixton. For the hardcore fan, festival appearances are rarely an event in the way a dedicated band gig is. They're aimed at the lapsed and unconverted.
Rob and I meet briefly in the bar. I'm in my tent by one, managing to nod off despite the music that goes on until five, when it's replaced by the noise of the toilets being sluiced out. It seems that Kate Moss (who was 'singing' on stage with Primal Scream) showed up in the hospitality bar after I left, wearing the shortest skirt known to man, but I won't dwell on this apparition missed.
I get mine up first and am soon queuing in the crowded hospitality bar. We sink a couple before the rain diminishes and go to catch the last of Echo And The Bunnymen. Ian McCulloch can write songs of heart-rending beauty but, in person, plays the archetypal Scally smartarse (sample intro - 'anyone here from Newcastle/Gateshead? Your city's shite!') and the end of the set sags badly.
De La Soul made one great album a decade or so ago but the snippet I see of them is shouty and annoying, like a lot of live hip-hop. Pretty soon, I'm in my tent, catching up on some sleep while Tom McRae lullabys me (our tents are very close to the Other Stage). Outside, the sun comes out, burning off most of the mud. When we stumble out to the Other Stage just after 4PM, Yo La Tengo are playing my favourite of their songs. I stick around for their set, forgetting that I'd planned to catch some of Mogwai. This Glasto, I'm determined to go with the flow, rather than timing myself with military precision as I did in 2000.
The big advantage of the Hospitality area isn't the bar (more expensive, harder to get served) or John Peel brushing past you, but that, being in the centre, it's easier to get everywhere: you can cut straight through the middle of the festival site rather than wading through crowds and becoming increasingly disoriented.
I only speak to one 'celebrity' all weekend. As I'm leaving the bar, I spot Luke Haines, the Graham Greene of English rock, wearing a black suit, the elbow spattered with mud, with a couple of young women. I've noticed that his 'hobby' band, Black Box Recorder, are down to play in the Guardian mini programme, but they don't feature in any of the publicity or the daily 'Q' festival paper, so I go over and ask him when and if they're playing. He tells me they're on instead of the Kills that evening. He doesn't know what time and asks 'Sarah'. I realise I'm standing next to BBR singer, Sarah Nixey, who I spent an hour ogling in 2000. In denim, minus her make-up and frosty stage demeanor, she's small and pretty and tells me when they're on. I say a few nice things about BBR's last Glasto appearance and shake Luke's hand - and that's the total of my weekend's ligging - unless you count my taking a copy of Festival to the 'Q' office for self promotion purposes.
At least I resisted the temptation to tell Luke that BBR are far too studied a concept to make it in the mainstream. Nor can they completely convince the fans of his 'real' band, the Auteurs, who seem to be in retirement at the moment. BBR's set in the New Bands tent at 7.20 is better than that of Brendan Benson, who precedes them, but rarely catches light (Girl Singing In The Wreckage and Lord Lucan Is Missing come off best - in fact, SGITW seems to stuck in my head at the moment).
For the rest of the evening I attempt to avoid seeing David Gray, who I loathe, while still getting a good spot for my favourite band, REM - the main reason I had to come to Glastonbury this time (as it turned out, I saw them play a superb set at Brixton Academy three nights ago, but I didn't know they'd be doing a small warm-up gig when I applied for a Glasto ticket). I catch the end of Beth Orton on the One World Stage, having to keep moving closer because the sound seems to be drifting. I've seen her before and love her albums, but live, she can be irritating, as she has a habit of mucking up one song in three (here, it's Central Reservation that's completely out of time) and talking drivel between songs. (She calls out 'enjoy Glastonbury. It's your rite of passage' after one song - condescending if true, which it isn't for 99% of the crowd). The Sweetest Decline is nice, though.
I've arranged to meet Rob in the bar (I sit near an Oscar nominated actress who my partner used to teach) but he isn't there by half ten. I'm determined to get a good place for REM so set off on my own, working my way in from stage front right until I'm to the left of the video screen, about fifteen metres from the speaker and twenty metres from centre stage - the furthest I've been from the band in all but one of the eight times I've seen them, but pretty damn close all the same. It's absolutely rammed, as they say these days, and there's a strong sense of anticipation. The crowd is really mixed, impossible to categorise.
REM are my favourite band, have been since 1984. My old home page used to carry a cartoon of me wearing an REM T-shirt. The first chapter of my first novel contained a line from Popsong '89 (until the reissue when the publishers could no longer get copyright clearance and I had to replace it with a paraphrase). Why? It's got nothing to do with their politics, though I broadly share them, or their most popular songs, most of which I'm fed up of Losing My Religion is great, but I've heard it too many times, unlike the great song that is LMR's immediate forerunner, World Leader Pretend. I like them because their songs intrigue me, move me and sometimes make me want to throw myself all over the place. They come out of a recognisable rock tradition (a vague similarity to the Byrds first drew me to them) yet are uniquely, undeniably themselves. Also, they're terrific live and - unlike many, indeed most bands - they treat their fans incredibly well. Yes, I'm the same age as the band and I belong to their fan club.
The stage set is the same as at Brixton, three nights before. Michael Stipe is in ebullient form, if less chatty than at Brixton. It's a carefully balanced classics/greatest hits set. They do six songs they didn't play the other night (though not Cuyahoga my favourite song, which they seem to play often, but I've never seen them do). Begin The Begin kicks things off and they're very tight, with a crunchy sound that's just loud enough. Later, they do my favourite REM 'dance' number What's the Frequency Kenneth?. It's odd not to be in a position to throw myself around (probably a good thing though - I'd work up such a sweat I'd be rank for the rest of the showerless weekend to come). The crowd swaying around is reserved for the 'big' numbers, like Losing My Religion which the crowd go mad for. I join in - it would be churlish not to. In this atmosphere even the couple of songs I'm not keen on seem great. I don't mind that the girl next to me is shouting along in a horrendously out of tune voice (after all, so am I). Between songs, we make friends and I help her on and off her boyfriend's back.
The band slip their anti-war-on-Iraq song The Final Straw into the encore, though I doubt anyone can follow the words. They finish with the obligatory, cathartic It's The End Of The World As We Know It. The crowd is so vast, it takes me an age to work my way round to the hospitality entrance, elated like a football fan who's seen his team score a huge away win. I'm pleased without being delirious as I was after Brixton. For the hardcore fan, festival appearances are rarely an event in the way a dedicated band gig is. They're aimed at the lapsed and unconverted.
Rob and I meet briefly in the bar. I'm in my tent by one, managing to nod off despite the music that goes on until five, when it's replaced by the noise of the toilets being sluiced out. It seems that Kate Moss (who was 'singing' on stage with Primal Scream) showed up in the hospitality bar after I left, wearing the shortest skirt known to man, but I won't dwell on this apparition missed.
Thursday, June 26, 2003
Ready To Go
Piled around me are a borrowed tent (I left my old one at Glasto 2000), a sleeping roll, sleeping bag, toiletries, a towel, a baseball cap, giant torch, pillow, sweater, a kagoul, two polo shirts, shorts, a sweater, an REM t-shirt and two changes of underwear. Downstairs are 4 cds I've made for the journey, some food and a little alcohol. I just need to dig out my wellies, then choose what book I'm going to read (I have to read before going to sleep last thing at night, no matter where I am) and make some sarnies. I've finally finished the fat novel, Flicker, that I've been reading for the last week - it sagged a bit towards the end, unfortunately. I might take Michael Frayn's Spies - it's very small and that counts when you've got loads to carry and a bad back. Expect the next post sometime on Monday.
Wednesday, June 25, 2003
About this site.
Welcome to the web-site of Nottingham novelist, David Belbin. The site includes a biography, a bibliography and a regularly updated diary discussing matters that might be of interest to readers.
As a professional writer, I'm a firm believer in Samuel Johnson's dictum: No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money. That said, a web-site is a useful promotional tool and readers will only keep coming back if the content is frequently refreshed. So it will be. Except when I'm away or immersed in writing a novel.
There'll probably be as much stuff about music as there is about literature. Indeed, the diary element begins with an account of the 2003 Glastonbury festival, following on from the 2000 diary (researching my novel Festival) that was the most popular feature of my previous web-site.
Readers are welcome to e-mail me with questions, comments and suggestions. I always reply. Please note - all material on this site is © David Belbin and can only be reproduced with the permission of the copyright holder. But feel free to link.
As a professional writer, I'm a firm believer in Samuel Johnson's dictum: No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money. That said, a web-site is a useful promotional tool and readers will only keep coming back if the content is frequently refreshed. So it will be. Except when I'm away or immersed in writing a novel.
There'll probably be as much stuff about music as there is about literature. Indeed, the diary element begins with an account of the 2003 Glastonbury festival, following on from the 2000 diary (researching my novel Festival) that was the most popular feature of my previous web-site.Readers are welcome to e-mail me with questions, comments and suggestions. I always reply. Please note - all material on this site is © David Belbin and can only be reproduced with the permission of the copyright holder. But feel free to link.
A Brief Biography
I was born in Sheffield, moved to Leicester when I was two and West Kirby, on the Wirral, when I was five. I'm the eldest of four children. When I was sixteen, we moved to Colne, in Lancashire, where my dad still lives. I went to university in Nottingham. I liked the city so much I've stayed here ever since. I still have strong ties with Sheffield though: my sister, youngest brother and oldest friend all live there.
I did a degree in English Literature and American Studies. After graduating, I tried to write a novel but ended up becoming more of a full time activist - for CND, my trade union and the Labour Party. After eighteen months on the dole, I did a PGCE in English and Drama. It was a toss up between training for teaching or journalism. I chose teaching because I figured I'd be able to write novels in the school holidays. Also, I'd just split up with my girlfriend and knew there'd be a lot of single women on the course.
We were required to read Young Adult fiction, a genre that wasn't around when I was a teenager. I discovered Robert Cormier and Robert Westall and thought I might have a go at writing a YA novel one day. I also pursued the brightest, most beautiful young woman on the course and somehow persuaded her to go out with me. We're still together.
When the course was over, I taught supply and worked on a Young Adult novel called The Foggiest, finishing it just before I landed my first (and only) full time, permanent job, teaching English at Rushcliffe Comp in West Bridgford. Five years (and two unpublished adult novels) later, I sold a new version of The Foggiest to Hippo Books and negotiated a job share. The Young Adult book market immediately went into free fall and my next two books weren't published, but then a new series called Point Crime came along.
I wrote the first Point Crime, Shoot The Teacher and the last, Dying For You. In between I wrote another three one-off titles and twelve crime novels in a series about young police officers in Nottingham, The Beat. In one year, I wrote four novels (one under a pseudonym), several short stories and worked half time as Head of Media Studies. For a few years, in the mid-90s, I was the UK's best selling Young Adult author (not that any of us sell truck loads - OK, maybe one truck load).
In 1994, I quit teaching and became a full time writer. I began work on Love Lessons, a novel about a teacher/student relationship that was published in 1998. It remains my most popular novel with readers. I finished writing The Beat series in 1999 and fell out with my publishers the following year, when they censored the final novel, Fallen Angel after the proof stage. I moved my Young Adult fiction to Hodder, for whom I've written a novel about the 2000 Glastonbury festival, Festival, and another about the pressure on teenagers to have sex as early as possible, The Last Virgin. My latest, Denial, is the story of a fifteen year old girl whose teacher father is accused of sexually assaulting one of his students. I've also written a non-fiction book about eBay and several short novels for reluctant readers.
My short stories for adults have appeared in numerous magazines, most often Ambit. I'm about to finish an adult novel. I've also written loads of short stories for anthologies (I even edited one, City Of Crime) and several books for younger readers, including a thriller called Runaway Train and two historical novels, The Right Moment (about the occupation of France in the Second World War) and Boy King (a fictional autobiography of Edward VI). Fuller details can be found in the Book List below. These days I have a part time job again, running the MA in Creative Writing at Nottingham Trent University.
I don't have children, but do have several nephews, two nieces and a godson, most of whom claim to read my books now and then. I share an allotment and a 1971 MG Midget and own a fairly sturdy bicycle. I also have vast numbers of books, an obsessive record and CD collecting habit and go to more gigs than I can keep track of.
I did a degree in English Literature and American Studies. After graduating, I tried to write a novel but ended up becoming more of a full time activist - for CND, my trade union and the Labour Party. After eighteen months on the dole, I did a PGCE in English and Drama. It was a toss up between training for teaching or journalism. I chose teaching because I figured I'd be able to write novels in the school holidays. Also, I'd just split up with my girlfriend and knew there'd be a lot of single women on the course.
We were required to read Young Adult fiction, a genre that wasn't around when I was a teenager. I discovered Robert Cormier and Robert Westall and thought I might have a go at writing a YA novel one day. I also pursued the brightest, most beautiful young woman on the course and somehow persuaded her to go out with me. We're still together.
When the course was over, I taught supply and worked on a Young Adult novel called The Foggiest, finishing it just before I landed my first (and only) full time, permanent job, teaching English at Rushcliffe Comp in West Bridgford. Five years (and two unpublished adult novels) later, I sold a new version of The Foggiest to Hippo Books and negotiated a job share. The Young Adult book market immediately went into free fall and my next two books weren't published, but then a new series called Point Crime came along.
I wrote the first Point Crime, Shoot The Teacher and the last, Dying For You. In between I wrote another three one-off titles and twelve crime novels in a series about young police officers in Nottingham, The Beat. In one year, I wrote four novels (one under a pseudonym), several short stories and worked half time as Head of Media Studies. For a few years, in the mid-90s, I was the UK's best selling Young Adult author (not that any of us sell truck loads - OK, maybe one truck load).
In 1994, I quit teaching and became a full time writer. I began work on Love Lessons, a novel about a teacher/student relationship that was published in 1998. It remains my most popular novel with readers. I finished writing The Beat series in 1999 and fell out with my publishers the following year, when they censored the final novel, Fallen Angel after the proof stage. I moved my Young Adult fiction to Hodder, for whom I've written a novel about the 2000 Glastonbury festival, Festival, and another about the pressure on teenagers to have sex as early as possible, The Last Virgin. My latest, Denial, is the story of a fifteen year old girl whose teacher father is accused of sexually assaulting one of his students. I've also written a non-fiction book about eBay and several short novels for reluctant readers.
My short stories for adults have appeared in numerous magazines, most often Ambit. I'm about to finish an adult novel. I've also written loads of short stories for anthologies (I even edited one, City Of Crime) and several books for younger readers, including a thriller called Runaway Train and two historical novels, The Right Moment (about the occupation of France in the Second World War) and Boy King (a fictional autobiography of Edward VI). Fuller details can be found in the Book List below. These days I have a part time job again, running the MA in Creative Writing at Nottingham Trent University.
I don't have children, but do have several nephews, two nieces and a godson, most of whom claim to read my books now and then. I share an allotment and a 1971 MG Midget and own a fairly sturdy bicycle. I also have vast numbers of books, an obsessive record and CD collecting habit and go to more gigs than I can keep track of.
Book list.
BOOKS FOR CHILDREN AND YOUNG ADULTS
1990
The Foggiest (Scholastic Hippo)
1993
Shoot The Teacher (Scholastic Point Crime = PC)
1994
Avenging Angel (PC)
Final Cut (PC)
1995
The Beat: Missing Person (PC)
Break Point (PC)
The Beat: Black and Blue (PC)
1996
The Beat: Smokescreen (PC)
Deadly Inheritance (PC)
Dark Journey (Reed)
The Beat: Asking For It (PC)
1997
The Beat: Dead White Male (PC)
The Beat: Losers (PC)
The Beat: Sudden Death (PC)
Three Degrees of Murder: The David Belbin Collection (omnibus containing Avenging Angel, Final Cut and Deadly Inheritance)
1998
Love Lessons (Scholastic Press)
The Beat: Night Shift (PC)
Haunting Time (short stories - Five Leaves)
The Beat: Victims (PC)
1999
Dying For You (PC, Chivers audio book)
The Beat: Suspects (PC)
Nicked (Barrington Stoke)
Stanley Middleton At Eighty (Five Leaves, co-edited with Prof. John Lucas)
2000
The Beat: Fallen Angel (last in series)
Runaway Train (Puffin Surfers)
Dead Guilty (Five Leaves)
The Right Moment (A & C Black - historical novel about occupied France)
2001
Festival (Hodder)
Witness (Heinemann Impact)
Harpies (Barrington Stoke)
Dear Amy (UNICEF, script for story in All Children Have Rights comic)
2002
Gambler (Heinemann Impact)
Boy King (biographical novel about Edward VI, A & C Black)
The Last Virgin (Hodder)
Cry Me A River (script for full length comic about globalisation, UNICEF)
2003
Jim'll Fix It (script for UNICEF comic 'No Secrets' about sexual exploitation of children)
Nicked (Barrington Stoke - reissue with new afterword 'My Comic Life' about writing UNICEF comics)
Dead Teachers Don't Talk (Five Leaves, reissue of 'Shoot The Teacher' with new afterword.)
2004
Coma (Barrington Stoke)
Denial (Hodder)
2005
Shouting At The Stars (Evans)
2006
Stray (Barrington Stoke)
Harris's Requiem by Stanley Middleton (edited and with long introduction by DB - Trent Editions)
CHILDREN'S STORIES NOT COLLECTED IN HAUNTING TIME
The Buyers - 13 More Tales of Horror (Scholastic)
Boomerang - 13 Again (Scholastic)
Why You're Here - 13 Murder Mysteries (Scholastic)
Rehearsal - The Peacemaker (Heinemann)
Don't Tell Me - Football Fever III (Transworld)
Mystery Train - The Young Oxford Book of Train Stories (OUP)
Bad Presents - The Young Oxford Book of Mystery Stories (OUP)
ANTHOLOGISED ADULT STORIES
Different Ways of Getting Drunk - Best Short Stories of the Year 1993 (Heinemann) & The Minerva Book of Short Stories 6 (Minerva)
Paying For It - City of Crime (Five Leaves, 1997)
Forgery, A Memoir (novel extract) - New Writing (Shoestring Press 2002)
The Golden Legend (After Magritte) - Man Of Trent (Launderette Pubns, 2003)
Waking Early, West Kirby - Lanterns (Launderette Pubns, 2005) and 'In The Frame' (Five Leaves Pubns, 2006)
Nets - 3D (Launderette Pubns, 2006)
OTHER STORIES FOR ADULTS
Witchcraft - Ambit, 1989
Being Bullied - Ambit, 1990
Scenes In Restaurants - Sunk Island Review, 1990
I Think We're Alone Now - Ambit, 1991
Mrs McGiligerry's Retirement - Mosaic, 1991
Poems, Cars - The Echo Room, 1992
The Day Her Head Exploded - The Echo Room, 1992
Paul Odd's Picasso - The Wide Skirt, 1993
Love, Time Travel - Ambit, 1993
In The All Night Bookstore - Ambit, 1998
1990
The Foggiest (Scholastic Hippo)
1993
Shoot The Teacher (Scholastic Point Crime = PC)
1994
Avenging Angel (PC)
Final Cut (PC)
1995
The Beat: Missing Person (PC)
Break Point (PC)
The Beat: Black and Blue (PC)
1996
The Beat: Smokescreen (PC)
Deadly Inheritance (PC)
Dark Journey (Reed)
The Beat: Asking For It (PC)
1997
The Beat: Dead White Male (PC)
The Beat: Losers (PC)
The Beat: Sudden Death (PC)
Three Degrees of Murder: The David Belbin Collection (omnibus containing Avenging Angel, Final Cut and Deadly Inheritance)
1998
Love Lessons (Scholastic Press)
The Beat: Night Shift (PC)
Haunting Time (short stories - Five Leaves)
The Beat: Victims (PC)
1999
Dying For You (PC, Chivers audio book)
The Beat: Suspects (PC)
Nicked (Barrington Stoke)
Stanley Middleton At Eighty (Five Leaves, co-edited with Prof. John Lucas)
2000
The Beat: Fallen Angel (last in series)
Runaway Train (Puffin Surfers)
Dead Guilty (Five Leaves)
The Right Moment (A & C Black - historical novel about occupied France)
2001
Festival (Hodder)
Witness (Heinemann Impact)
Harpies (Barrington Stoke)
Dear Amy (UNICEF, script for story in All Children Have Rights comic)
2002
Gambler (Heinemann Impact)
Boy King (biographical novel about Edward VI, A & C Black)
The Last Virgin (Hodder)
Cry Me A River (script for full length comic about globalisation, UNICEF)
2003
Jim'll Fix It (script for UNICEF comic 'No Secrets' about sexual exploitation of children)
Nicked (Barrington Stoke - reissue with new afterword 'My Comic Life' about writing UNICEF comics)
Dead Teachers Don't Talk (Five Leaves, reissue of 'Shoot The Teacher' with new afterword.)
2004
Coma (Barrington Stoke)
Denial (Hodder)
2005
Shouting At The Stars (Evans)
2006
Stray (Barrington Stoke)
Harris's Requiem by Stanley Middleton (edited and with long introduction by DB - Trent Editions)
CHILDREN'S STORIES NOT COLLECTED IN HAUNTING TIME
The Buyers - 13 More Tales of Horror (Scholastic)
Boomerang - 13 Again (Scholastic)
Why You're Here - 13 Murder Mysteries (Scholastic)
Rehearsal - The Peacemaker (Heinemann)
Don't Tell Me - Football Fever III (Transworld)
Mystery Train - The Young Oxford Book of Train Stories (OUP)
Bad Presents - The Young Oxford Book of Mystery Stories (OUP)
ANTHOLOGISED ADULT STORIES
Different Ways of Getting Drunk - Best Short Stories of the Year 1993 (Heinemann) & The Minerva Book of Short Stories 6 (Minerva)
Paying For It - City of Crime (Five Leaves, 1997)
Forgery, A Memoir (novel extract) - New Writing (Shoestring Press 2002)
The Golden Legend (After Magritte) - Man Of Trent (Launderette Pubns, 2003)
Waking Early, West Kirby - Lanterns (Launderette Pubns, 2005) and 'In The Frame' (Five Leaves Pubns, 2006)
Nets - 3D (Launderette Pubns, 2006)
OTHER STORIES FOR ADULTS
Witchcraft - Ambit, 1989
Being Bullied - Ambit, 1990
Scenes In Restaurants - Sunk Island Review, 1990
I Think We're Alone Now - Ambit, 1991
Mrs McGiligerry's Retirement - Mosaic, 1991
Poems, Cars - The Echo Room, 1992
The Day Her Head Exploded - The Echo Room, 1992
Paul Odd's Picasso - The Wide Skirt, 1993
Love, Time Travel - Ambit, 1993
In The All Night Bookstore - Ambit, 1998
