I thought I’d write a quick blog on my friend Justin Richards, who died on 28 June, following a decade living with early-onset fronto-temporal dementia. Just to get my feelings and memories down while I have a gap between projects.
I would’ve first become aware of his work through his Doctor Who novels. Because they were amongst the best. I remember System Shock taking place at a country mansion that was now being used as a computer research centre, almost entirely unlike IBM Hursley where Justin worked. And I particularly enjoyed – and I’m not sure enjoyed is a big enough word for it – The Sands of Time. You know all the ‘timey-wimey’ stuff in Blink and the Matt Smith era of Doctor Who? The Sands of Time did it all first.
And it was books like The Sands of Time that
inspired me to have a go at submitting my own idea for a Doctor Who book – when
they were published by BBC Books Justin was the editor of The Past Doctor
Adventures. This was around the time that the initial wave of novel writers
were going off to work on television soap operas and so Justin was on the look
out for new writers to take over. My submission was a story called The
Beautiful Death, which was timey-wimey to the nth degree, to the point of being a farce, and a
few weeks after I sent it in, I got a letter back from Justin, who had been
passed my submission from the ‘slush pile’ by Jac Rayner. This letter began
with “Many thanks for your proposal The Beautiful Death which I very
much enjoyed reading”, continued with two pages of notes, mentioned in passing
that “Your sample prose is fine” and ended with the paragraph “You can probably
guess from the level of comment that revised version of this proposal,
accommodating as many of the points I’ve made as you think are merited”.
You cannot imagine my excitement at reading that. I felt like Charlie Bucket getting the ticket to the chocolate factory. I was on my way to getting to write a Doctor Who book! And his notes were all helpful – he suggested doing a flow-chart to keep track of the time-travel, just as he had done with The Sands of Time, so I duly worked one out over five stapled together sheets of paper (it was that complicated). But looking at it now, I’m struck by those final words. “As many of the points I’ve made as you think are merited”. He wasn’t telling me what to do, making a commission conditional on following his suggestions. He was, if anything, inviting me to disagree if I had a better idea.
And that, I think, was very typical of him. Anyway, I went
off and wrote the book that became Festival of Death, and because it was
my first one I found it terribly difficult and fell behind the deadlines, which
Justin seemed to tolerate because I was sending him each chapter as I wrote it
(so he knew the book was being written) and because I think he realised that I
wasn’t sending him first drafts, I was sending him the fifth or sixth drafts,
so he wouldn’t have much work to do on it. Looking at his emails now (I still
have them), he’s keen to reassure me that it’s “going very well indeed” and his
notes are all to do with tips on avoiding pitfalls rather than the plot.
I got the chance to thank him a while later, when I met him
for the first time at the Big Finish launch party (to celebrate the release of The
Sirens of Time – I was there because I was on the list to write one in the
next year). I remember that evening very well, mostly because I didn’t know
anyone there apart from Gary Russell and was far too intimidated to try to join
the conversations of the great and the good.
But Justin, bless him, sought me out and chatted to me, and because I was literally Jonny No-Mates he let me look through the script of Red Dawn,
covered with Gary’s red-pen notes, which I found fascinating and useful.
Of course, I later became friends with all of the great and
the good, because writing a Doctor Who book turned out to be the
passport to a new social life, going to the Tavern and whatnot. It is no
understatement to say that it changed my life, very much for the better. And
getting that commission also gave me confidence in my ability as a writer – of
which I had previously had very little – which led to it becoming my career. It
all started with Justin, so if you want someone to blame...
Anyway, let’s fast-forward. He commissioned me to write two
more Doctor Who books, both for the Eighth Doctor in what was generally regarded
as the ‘more important’ range. Justin had recently taken it over and relaunched
with a fantastic novel called The Burning which I used as the basis for
the structure for Anachrophobia; completely different plot but with the highs and lows at the same points. And after Festival of Death, I made a
point of handing it on time. And then, in 2003, I received this email from Justin:
“I have a need for a startlingly good EDA proposal starring
the Doctor, Fitz and Trix in a standalone adventure of incredible excitement
and awe-inspiring novelty told with the use of the best prose to be had in this
part of the galaxy.
So naturally, I thought of you.
No, this isn't a competition where you later discover, like
with Readers Digest, that 27 other people were told the same thing and we're
looking for a 'winner.'
I am looking for a winner, but I'm asking you if you have
any ideas and inclination. If so, let's
try and make it happen. If not, then
that's fine, I'll move on down the list (and yes, you were top of it).”
How could I refuse an email like that? Even though I had, for a brief shining moment, television production companies badgering me to hand in the scripts they had paid me for, I couldn’t turn down the chance to write one last Doctor Who book. And I did think it would be the last; not just my last Doctor Who story but the last one of all, as the book range was on the brink of cancellation. That one was The Tomorrow Windows. Justin:
“Thanks for all the hard work - I know it's been a slog, to say the least, but
I think it's paid off. A
well-constructed, amusing and perceptive novel that I reckon the punters will
really enjoy. (Well, all except those
who have already decided they won't enjoy anything no matter what...)”
Looking through my emails, the next time I met Justin would’ve been at Dave Owen’s stag do. I’m pretty sure I was there but I remember nothing about it. But, like the 1960s, if you remember Dave Owen’s stag do, you weren’t there. Justin:
“For those who missed it, thanks for the warnings
and apologies and be assured that I passed on your
regards/sympathies/congratulations etc as appropriate. Just to make you
feel even better about it, we had a terrific time with topics of conversation
ranging from marriage, fatherhood and babies, an interesting and appropriate
description of the size of Katy Manning's mouth, where there are bus stops near
Crystal Palace Park, who actually ordered what food, wine or beer decisions,
strips clubs around the world, Day of Armageddon (a Doctor Who
episode, not next Saturday), and other topics too numerous and rude to mention.”
I do remember Dave Owen’s wedding, though, and spending a
lot of time chatting with Justin. I remember his sons had brought along a load
of books and seemed to read about three each during the course of the dinner.
He was clearly bringing them up correctly.
After that... I saw Justin a few times, at other parties and
weddings – including my own – and I’d let him know what I thought of the latest
The Invisible Detective book. The Invisible Detective was
a range of books for the Young Adult market set in the 1930s which somehow, and
I don’t know how this happened, managed to include lots of Doctor Who in-jokes;
you know, there’d be an Egyptian mummy in the London sewers, that sort of
thing. Sadly Justin never finished the series but that’s publishing for you.
I knew he still had me on the list to write Doctor Who books, cos he told me so - “I think the right opportunity will present itself before too long. You are certainly on my list :-)” and because roughly once a year I’d get an email from him checking my availability for something that was purely hypothetical but which needed to be written over the next six weeks. That’s also publishing for you.
But it turned out the next thing we’d work on would be Jago
& Litefoot. He asked me to write an episode for nearly all the seasons
– I skipped three, four and eight and retired due to creative exhaustion after
series ten. It sort of settled into a pattern, with me writing either the first
or third story of each box set – the easy ones, because it would be either
introducing stuff or going-on-a-self-contained-detour – while Justin did the
hard work of tying things together and paying them off in all the episode
fours.
What I remember mostly about the process, though, would be
that for each series Justin would put together these incredibly detailed
Writers’ Guides, with suggested settings, information about all the characters
and what should happen in each episode – for instance:
5.1 – Get Jago!
In which we find Litefoot and Jago have settled into
1968, with help from Ellie, and are about to meet the descendent of an old
colleague...
Writer: Jonathan Morris
Main Cast: Jago, Litefoot, Ellie, Sacker
Guest Cast: 2 others
Brief Appearance by:
Guinevere Godiva
Date: May 1968
After the opening scenes of Episode 1, we rejoin Jago and
Litefoot several months later... Maybe we enter their world through the
experiences of DS Sacker, who is investigating Ellie as part of the Kray Tiwns
case... This leads him to Litefoot and
then – to his surprise – to the rising star of TV Jago.
Sacker finds the pair of them (and to a point Ellie)
rather odd. He is intrigued to discover
that Ellie has bought an antiquarian bookshop and set up Litefoot as
manager. Does the man have some hold
over her – and where did he come from?
When he questions Litefoot, he is amazed to find he is also a friend of
Jago: how unlikely is that? Digging
deeper, he is astonished to realise that the two of them seem to him, and
bluster about his grandfather…
At some point, Sacker will dig out and check his
grandfather’s diaries… then things get really weird.
Our first encounter with Guinevere Godiva is in this
episode, when Jago features Guinevere Godiva’s magic act on his show. In a
brief discussion with her afterwards, there is mention of her fascination with
the stage magicians of the Victorian era, and Jago’s equivocal reaction
intrigues her…
The main story could involve the notorious Kray Twins
(perhaps they have discovered Ellie’s secret?) or not. But it needs to establish our general set-up,
and Litefoot’s research into possible ways back to 1893. Perhaps Litefoot might
suggest to Sacker how the Kray Twins could be brought down – they were arrested
on 8th May 1968 in the hope that once in custody previously silent witnesses
would feel safe to testify against them.
This proved to be the case...
The Crystal: During the episode, Jago will reveal to
Litefoot that he pocketed a crystal from the cave on Venus when they were
planting the explosives. It’s about the
size of an egg and looks like a huge diamond.
If he concentrates, Jago can make it glow faintly. Litefoot points out that the crystals in the
cave stored the mental energy – the minds, indeed – of the ancient Cythereans. It
must act like a recording device for the mind...
...which would then be mostly ignored as the writers pitched entirely different stories – in this case, The Age Of Revolution, a thinly-veiled take on the Festival of Light movement. Indeed, I was always amused when the final box set would come out and how wildly different they were to the initial plans – with Justin having to bear the brunt of maintaining continuity and bringing things together. I was also very amused by the Writers’ Guide for Series 9, the one where Jago and Litefoot are on a cruise, which had a list of eight fellow-travellers, which was way more than could possibly be included on the budget, followed by the section on ‘keeping it simple’.
I loved doing Jago & Litefoot, but if I had to name one Doctor
Who story that was a labour of love, it would be my Eleventh Doctor novel, Touched
by an Angel. Which started with an email from Justin – the subject was an
unassuming “Busy?”:
"So, are you up for writing a Who novel, then?
I can't brief you properly till we've had our Series 6
briefing meeting next month, but we can certainly get thinking. Just need to
make sure we don't tread on any 2011-TV-Who toes - once I know where they are
wriggling.
Basically, I'd be looking for a Doctor, Amy and Rory
story - not sure yet if I want it present day or future / off-Earth
(though not in a space station)..."
I pitched several ideas and Justin phoned me up, suggesting
I combine two of them and add the Weeping Angels. I’ve blogged about this
already here.
The process was much easier this time – I handed in the book
early – and got this response:
“I've finally got round to reading your lovely book, and
have a few comments and suggestions, which I've attached. I hope it all
makes sense. As usual, everything I haven't mentioned (ie, almost all of it) is
absolutely gob-droppingly brilliant :-)”
I’ve only just noticed the smiley at the end there. I think
that was just a happy smiley, not a ‘this is a joke’ smiley. Probably best not
to dwell on it.
Anyway, around this time I’d had an idea of writing a book
about Shakespeare, where I’d treat his plays in the same way that a
science-fiction series episode guide book would treat them. It didn’t go
anywhere, and thank god I didn’t waste too much time on it, but I’d sent it to
Justin for his thoughts, as he was a fellow Shakespeare buff, which meant he
kept me in mind for The Lost Notebooks of William Shakespeare, as it was
originally called. Another fun gig.
But what was more significant for my bank balance was that
he also got BBC Books to reprint Festival of Death – I’m still getting
royalties from it today – and that he asked me to write another Doctor Who
novel in 2016. This was a very quick job – I wrote it in January 2017, handing
it in on the 31st – and Justin wrote back to say “I’ll get to it as soon as I
can”.
And that’s the last email I have from him. I was told to send
the book to someone else, and the book was copy-edited by Steve Tribe, who
must’ve taken over the project. I didn’t think anything of it; that’s
publishing for you.
I did email Justin a few times after that, asking for his
help with things, but never heard anything back. I later learned from a mutual
friend that Justin had been diagnosed with early-onset dementia and had been
forced to stop work. I’ve had a family member with dementia, and it can be a
cruel disease, not just for the sufferer but for their carers, and it seemed
particularly unfair that Justin should have it, because he had such a fabulous
memory, and because he still had so many more stories to tell. That was what
was taken from us. It’s not unlike to what happened to Terry Pratchett. And I
missed seeing him at events in the years since, just to catch up in person, but
the other cruelty of dementia is that sufferers can lose the ability to
socialise, to recognise their friends and to express themselves.
I thought a lot of him over the past ten years. Particularly
during lockdown, which was bad enough for the rest of us, but to go through
that with dementia could only have been even harder. And I thought of his
family. I always felt that I should let Justin know how much he meant to me,
while I still could. And so I sent them this message.
"My wife and I were very sad to hear of Justin’s illness.
It is no overstatement to say that I owe my entire writing career, and all of
the ensuing friendships, and meeting my wife, to Justin, and his decision to
commission me to write Festival of Death all those years ago. The entire course
of my life changed when he sent that letter. In terms of moments of sheer joy,
reading that letter is up there with getting married and the birth of my son.
And he has always been a very good friend to me since, tolerating some late
deliveries, and getting me back to write Touched By An Angel, Plague City and
all those episodes of Jago & Litefoot. I remain in awe of his patience and
kindness. And, needless to say, I have always been a massive admirer of his
work, which continues to inspire me.
If you could pass that onto him, it would be much
appreciated."
For Justin Richards, 1961-2026
