Oh yes, dear friends, it’s been a funny old week…fortnight…month…you get the idea. The Open University courses are keeping me tied up indefinitely. The day job has me rushed off my feet. And promoting Not Before Bed is taking up the rest of my time. Suffice to say I feel hog-tied and gagged at the minute. No wonder the blog has suffered and the WIP is screaming for attention.
The reactions to Not Before Bed have been fantastic (bar one review which had me hitting the bottle and weeping into my string vest) and to those who’ve taken the time to comment I owe a debt. They’ve been so good, in fact, that I’ve toyed with the idea of ordering 100 copies and selling signed editions (probably £5 each, I think). But therein lies a risk! Of course the money for the copies and delivery will be coming out of my own ragged pocket. The question I need to ask is humbling: Am I good enough that people will be interested in buying it?
And that leads me to a philosophical frame of mind. Can we, as writers in a digital age, really translate our online ‘successes’ (meagre ones in my case) to the physical realm? For all those wonderful people, from all over the globe, will my self-published book sell?
Don’t worry, this post is rhetorical, I’m not expecting hard answers. But it makes ya think, right?
And so, with that, my focus on traditional publishing has been reaffirmed (Although, I never truly wavered). Greaveburn needs a home, a publisher, a team behind it and a space on a shelf. Patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s the reality and the necessity.
And so it has heen distributed again. This time to independent publishers, minus the agents’ intervention. I’m willing to skip the safety of representation and go for broke. Let’s hope the good stuff is to come. Let’s hope that if it does, I don’t get ripped off. Let’s hope you don’t cringe at the final cliche…
He who dares, wins!
Thanks for reading