T-minus seven days

Next Friday sees the start of Novcon, one of the largest science fiction conventions in the UK. The great and good of scifi will mix with the fans, and it looks to have a packed programme. Though I won't be able to attend personally because of a prior commitment, a couple of good friends will be making the journey to Birmingham carrying copies of my book, which they will distribute to the great and good on my behalf.

This is very much a pre-emptive strike. The book will be launched at the end of January and the 'sharp end' of the marketing will take place then, but when Lucy offered to take some copies to Novacon I couldn't pass up such a great opportunity. This will mean that a small number of people, nationwide, will know about the book, and if they like it, they might just tell their friends. This kind of word-of-mouth marketing - fiendishly tricky to set in motion - will be instrumental in getting strangers to read my book.

It has certainly been a rush to get copies ready. In fact, Anthony at the UKA Press has ordered an early print-run just for Novacon. We're not 100% sure that copies will get to me in time, but it's looking good. I'm already chuffed that somebody, somewhere, has held a physical copy of my book in their hands.

Win a copy of my book

Competition is hotting up over at authoretica, where I'm giving away a signed and dedicated copy of 'Deja Vu' to the best flash fiction piece (50 words max, not easy) along the theme of 'Deja Vu'. If you want to give it a go, check out the competition rules and some of the entries.

Things are moving on apace with Deja Vu. The release date has been firmed up as 31st January, 2005. It was a long time coming, but then editing and publishing a book is no easy process. I think it's a measure of how committed are the folks at the UKA Press that they spend so long helping the authors get their books just right. Most of their authors, of course, can only write in their spare time, which slows the process somewhat. However, Anthony (head honcho at the UKA Press) has suggested that proof copies should be available within the next couple of weeks. Finally, I'll have this book in my hands. I wonder if I will feel elation or just plain relief.

Marketing: Apples and Pears

This week I've been reading, and occasionally contributing to, the debates on UKAuthors.com surrounding the marketing of (i) the UKA Press in general (ii) individual books.

Opinions fall into two camps. The first group want the 'non-commercial' aspects of the UKA Press to be displayed prominently on the website, where it will be a badge of honour. The second group think that this will be interpreted as amateur by visitors to the website.

My opinion falls towards the second group. I don't think readers want to hear that the books sold by the UKA Press have been rejected by mainstream publishers because they are not commerically viable. Firstly, I don't think this is true in the case of my own book, which is a mainstream thriller, or in the case of, for exampe, 'How It Happened Here', which is likely to sell in volume. Secondly, potential buyers should be rightly suspicious of the high moral ground that underpins such a 'badge of honour'. Each book should be sold on its merits, not the mission statement of the publisher.

To speak of selling, I received a pre-order copy of Mark Turley's the Rainbow Maker this morning. It looks good and the first few chapters have flown by at a cracking space. It has been book of the week on Laura Hird's website and is available from Borders, Amazon and, of course, the UKA Press website. I'll report back on what I think of the book in a later blog. Mark's a very driven man, and good luck to him.

Remember Miss Tanner's Old School, the story I wrote about a few weeks ago? It has now found a home in Thirteen Magazine, a 13-times-a-year publication edited by Andrew Levy. There's nothing quite like an email from an editor who wants to publish your work.

Easy like Saturday morning

For me, Saturday morning means Guardian Review, writing my blog, and catching up with my work on AllExperts.com. In today's blog, I'd like to concentrate on the last of these.

The act of reading reviews is addictive. In part, I want to see which writers are setting the world alight. But I also take a good look at the publishers of those lauded books, and if ever I see a small press - which is seldom - another part of me (probably my hand; apologies for this awful sentence) punches the air.

This morning, there is yet more cause for cheer. Nicholas Clee (whose editorial is published in both the Guardian Review and the Bookseller; read it - his last - in full) has this to say about small presses versus that Goliath, Waterstone's:

Waterstone's has brought the first printing of the paperback edition [of a heralded, small-press book], out at the end of this month, to put into one of its three-for-two promotions. In another sign that Waterstones's is taking this area of the market seriously, the chain has given a member of its head office staff the role of liaising with small publishers and self-published authors.

This is great news. The cooperation of Waterstone's (owned by W H Smith) is crucial in getting a book noticed. Too often, authors published by a small press are limited in their outreach because Waterstones has a rather 'Who the hell are you?' attitude to small presses. It's difficult to condemn this attitude because, in the long run, it probably makes business sense for Waterstone's. They aren't a charity, after all. But it is a frustrating position for an author in which to find himself. So news that Waterstone's wants to make a definite connection with small presses is cheering news indeed.

London Calling

This morning I received a package from the BBC. My initial impressions were not good ones; the package was too heavy to be an acceptance letter. It could only be a rejection slip together with the original manuscript.

One of the things I want to do with this blog is to give the reader an idea of what it's like to be a writer. One the principle components of a writer's life (this one, anyway :-) is rejection.

Some years ago, I wrote a play based on Raymond Chandler's hard-boiled detective, Philip Marlowe. It was produced by the student theatre at the University of Exeter. We had a wonderful cast and the rehearsals, though time-consuming, were great fun. Half way through the rehearsal process, however, it became clear that exam commitments would make it very difficult for some of the actors to perform the play so, with some reluctance, it was shelved.

This was, of course, an early lesson in the fragile art of theatre, and I don't look back on our work with regret because I know it would have been a fun play to watch - that information alone, for a struggling playwright, is enough.

Last year, I decided to rewrite the play in a radio format. It very much conforms to the 'old radio theatre' coventions of footsteps at night, screams, doors banging, and the occasional gunshot - all bound up in a good character-driven story. I sent the story to the BBC, where it would be considered as a 'calling-card' script by a new writer.

Alas, it hasn't worked out that way. Now I have the manuscript back (though I expressly asked the BBC to save their postage and shred it) and a nice rejection letter to boot.

Am I pessimistic? No. Like Thomas Eddison with his light bulb, I have now successfully proved that one of my scripts does not work.

Back to my laboratory...