Acquired by Unsung Stories

I’m excited to announce that the first book in the Saskia Brandt series, Déjà Vu, has been acquired by George Sandison at Unsung Stories. This is a new imprint and I’m lucky to be one of the launch titles along­side m’colleague Aliya Whiteley.

I’m cur­rently work­ing on an updated edi­tion of Déjà Vu and, with any luck, I’ll be pub­lish­ing sequels Flashback and The Amber Rooms with Unsung too.

Exciting times.

The Short Version

The author Julian Gough writes today in the Guardian that Amazon’s short Kindle Singles are the future of pub­lish­ing. By this, he means that the optim­al size deman­ded by pub­lish­ers (from about 80,000 words to–I’m guessing–150,000) has been estab­lished as the norm because books need to look value for money but can­not be prac­tic­ally bound at ginorm­ous sizes.

I agree. One of the most effect­ive books I read over the last couple of years is True Grit. It was mar­keted as a nov­el but, really, it’s novella length. There have been a few occa­sions when, read­ing a book, I’ve got the impres­sion that a sub­plot has been added to increase its bulk. Now, that’s not neces­sar­ily a bad thing, and if a book needs work like that a care­ful edit­or can sug­gest it to an author, but I think you need to think twice before insert­ing mater­i­al willy-nilly.

I wanted to add this: Shorter works give writers the oppor­tun­ity for a faster turn­around, the oppor­tun­ity for which is not to be under­es­tim­ated.

Advertising for Independent Writers

Via Alex Roddie, I came across an art­icle on Cult of Me that offers some thoughts on online advert­ising. This is one of many things that inde­pend­ent writers need to con­sider, and there isn’t much data about the effect­ive­ness of dif­fer­ent sites and advert­ising meth­ods.

My own advert­ising has been lim­ited to Goodreads and Facebook. Goodreads is expens­ive, as Michael Brookes says, and prob­ably not all that effect­ive. Facebook has a nice inter­face and allows you tar­get your advert so pre­cisely that you’ll feel dirty. (I did, and left Facebook shortly after­wards.)