What comes next…

The past couple of months have been a whirlwind of activity – and huge fun! I overcame my nerves and entered the world of Amazon self-publishing, dipping my toes hesitantly into the water at first – and then when I discovered how easy and how much fun it was, I’ve taken to it with enthusiasm.

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First, I re-issued my four Christian novels: When the Boats Come Home about the Fishermen’s Revival in Great Yarmouth in 1921; and the three books in the Mizpah Ring trilogy.

And then the major step: revising and publishing Loose Ends, the first book in my new Somerset Mysteries crime series.

I lived in Somerset for around 12 years from the mid-1980s to early 1995. My home was first in the delightful town of Somerton and then on the outskirts of Westport, a tiny village. Loose Ends, book one of the series, is set in Somerton. I’m now hard at work on book two which is set in Hambridge, the village just north of Westport.

I’ve got the first draft written. I always write, very quickly, a very short first draft – just getting the story down with quite a lot of dialogue. I’m now at the stage of going back and thinking through whether it really works, what red herrings and extra plot twists would be fun, and what research is needed to provide a sound foundation for my fictional characters and happenings.

So – no plot spoilers here but I am looking at New Age Travellers, cider farms, and moo-cows. When I lived in Somerset, I was for a while Features Editor of The Somerset Magazine. I got sent off with my trusty camera each month to research a topic of local interest – and one month it was Sheppy’s Cider Farm! Little did I know it would come in handy many years later.

That’s the lovely thing about writing. Nothing is wasted!

Of making many books…

Long ago, publishers used to release the hardback edition of a novel first. It was a beautiful thing: jacketed, casebound, with marbled or printed endpapers, and headbands like stripey caterpillars neatening the top and bottom of the stitched-together printed pages, and sometimes woven into a silky bookmark. It was only after the avid buying public had purchased a goodly quantity of the stock that concession was made to the hoi polloi and the cheaper paperback edition was grudgingly released.

I confess I always waited for the paperback and blessed the memory of Allen Lane, the wonderful man who launched the affordable Penguin into the world of books in the mid-1930s. I do possess some hardbacks – special books, the ones I want to keep forever. And I must also admit that I find a hardback offers a different sensual experience: the sheer heft and feel of a hardback, and those extra trimmings…

But for the simple pleasure of reading, I am delighted with the convenience and comfort of my Kindle. And so, for my new book, Loose Ends, first in my Somerset mystery series, I am launching the e-book first for all the Kindle afficionados! It’s available for free on Kindle Unlimited or for the princely sum of 99p if you want to hang on to it!

The paperback will be released next week.

And now for something completely different!

I’m taking a leap – changing genre. My previous novels have been historical, family sagas, with a Scottish base/bias. The next to be published will be crime novels. And here’s the cover for the first one in the series, set in Somerset:

I love it. I hope you do too. Special thanks to the wonderful Liz Carter who took my scrappy ideas and an old photograph and worked wonders!

I’m on the final read-through/proof-read. I daren’t hazard a guess how many times I’ve been over it and am still finding things I want to change. But this is the last chance and then it goes away to be formatted before uploading on Amazon both as a paperback and a Kindle ebook.

And then it’s time to polish up Book 2 and get it ready to go…

How to be a publisher

When I was young, there were very few jobs open to a girl: shop assistant, nurse, teacher, wife and mother. I wasn’t interested in any of them. I wanted to be an author. The dream was a shelf of books with my name on the spine.

I had not a clue how to get there. I knew about writing and did lots of it, but publishing? That was way outside my experience. But today, as I trawled through the box of keepsakes I brought from my mother’s house after she died, I came across:

In 1965-66, I’d spent a long weary spell at home after a bout of TB meningitis that nearly took my life. Not allowed back to school for almost a year, I had to entertain myself somehow and The Willow Bank Journal (we lived in Willow Bank) was the result. Looking at it now, I see that I was both author and self-publisher!

Many years later, wanting to give my creative writing students a lift, I set them a Christmas writing challenge and then gathered the results in a book:

Again, I was editor and publisher. I even gave my enterprise a name: Coastal Publishing! And we did it again the next year:

Life then intruded for a while and my next venture into writing/publishing was a collection of stories and poems, a little Christmas gift for friends and family:

So why has it taken me so long to realise that I actually can do this self-publishing lark? As I gain the courage to do more than simply dip a toe into the Amazon KDP system and begin to get my books out under my own name, I am discovering just how much help there is out there, and how much encouragement. This truly is the best time to be a publisher!

So I am delighted to announce that each of my most recent four novels (shown above) are available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited for free and for a modest 99p (other currencies are available!) if you want your own e-book to keep. Paperback editions are now available too. And just this morning I began the final editing of the manuscript for Book 1, and discussion on cover design for the new series with a first-rate designer. It’s a different genre, this time. Crime fiction. I’ll keep you posted!

First steps in the Amazon jungle

I think I’m what’s called a ‘late adopter’ – I’m not the first to rush out and try things. So it’s not surprising I haven’t got an air fryer yet, and although I did give Instagram a go, I haven’t yet ventured onto TikTok.

And I cannot count how many friends have successfully launched their books on Amazon and told me it was easy.

Right. My young friend Amy ran a half-marathon on Sunday in excellent time and said it was easy. I watch cookery programmes that make cordon bleu meals look easy. I reckon ‘easy’ is in the eye of the beholder/expert!

Or is it? As you’ll know if you read last week’s blog, I finally took the plunge and uploaded my four novels onto Amazon KDP.

Yes, I had an excellent step-by-step guide to follow that my ex-publisher Paul kindly provided but… to loud shouts of ‘I told you so’ from my friends… it was much easier than I had expected. OK, feared.

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This is Vicci, the cat who came to stay when I had my Scotland adventure in 2019-21. And she was not a scaredy-cat. But I think I definitely can be. Fear is a rotten thing. It stops us in our tracks. Prevents us from fulfilling our potential.

I had brunch with a friend this morning at one of my favourite places, the Broken Egg cafe on the outskirts of Harleston. (It has a wonderful sculpture at the roadside – built a while back by the local Young Farmers’ Club. It was put on top of a car and taken to a county show where it had to process round the ring – only they’d put the car in backwards and the driver couldn’t see out so one of the Young Farmers had to sit on the chicken and shout directions!)

Anyway, my friend reminded me, when you’re afraid to do something, ask yourself ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ I was trying to pluck up courage to contact an Arts Festival which hasn’t finalised its programme and I thought my next book might be relevant. Katie’s reminder produces the answer: the worst they can do is sneer and turn me down! I can live with that.

Oh, and if you need a little Biblical help, Paul’s second letter to Timothy is the one: ‘For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.’ 2 Timothy 1:7

So where I’m concerned, no excuse there!

Lunch with my publisher

I had lunch with my publisher yesterday.

Long, long ago, it was one of the joys of being a young editor with a generous expense account that I could ring up authors in need of encouragement and take them out somewhere nice for lunch. And just so, now, it is a delight to be sitting on the other side of the table and be wined and dined by an appreciative publisher.

Of course the days of long boozy lunches are long gone. I remember a little hazily some of those long drives back from central London, and there were some authors quite notorious for ensuring they got our money’s worth!

It was after a fascinating lunch in Windsor with one of England’s top importers of Australian wines (a new thing, then) that duly tutored, I had the courage – and savoir faire – to order the wine for a male author. In the early days, the fact that I – or my expense account to be exact – was footing the bill made some of the more dinosaur variety males very uncomfortable. So the fact that I chose my own food, recommended the specialities, and ordered the wine rather shifted the goalposts they were used to controlling. But then, at that time, the only females they were used to encountering would be receptionists or secretaries. (In my opinion, some of the most fearsome females in the business!)

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So yes, I enjoyed the gentle humour of turning tables on red-faced, club-tied, older males. Once they got used to the idea, however, they became lambs and produced the books I had commissioned from them on time and to length.

Which of course is now my responsibility and this lunch celebrates the relaunch¹ of my four most recent novels with a new publisher.

I have some confidence in this publisher and raise my glass in a cheerful toast. After all, she’s been editing my work for as long as I’ve been writing. Yes, you’ve guessed it: I’m relaunching my books as an independent publisher – and the step-up from writer to publisher after so long is exhilarating!

I applaud all those who have forged this path ahead of me and I look forward to the new adventures my publisher alter-ego will encounter.

1. I was sad that my wonderful publisher Paul Stanier has closed Zaccmedia and moved on to other things but he has been most helpful in converting the book files and enabling me to enter the Amazon jungle to reissue my books – as paperbacks in the next three weeks, and as e-books for Kindle more quickly. I’ll keep you posted! ↩︎

New routes, new journeys

I like trains. Yes, I enjoy driving my car, but there’s something much more holiday-like about going somewhere by train. I was thinking about renewing my Senior Railcard (30% off ticket prices) and working out that if I could get myself to Norwich, I could get to Glasgow in two short hops with a stop in Birmingham in between – train drivers’ strikes permitting.

The idea was to spend a few pleasant days doing research on… yes, the book that won’t let go. I’ve had yet another recent bash at it: 14 pages before I ground to a halt. Then I indulged in some blatant displacement activity: moving furniture, bookcases, boxes… And came across a fat lever-arch file

with six different starters of several chapters and one two-thirds-complete typescript.

(The index card reveals my writing process – one hour in the morning, print out the output, and keep a record of the word count… to encourage me as the numbers and pages add up!)

But, like a train where something has gone wrong, I seem to run into the buffers every time with this book. Including this time when I thought it might be a good idea to complete and have the sequel to the Mizpah Ring trilogy ready to publish, to accompany the reissue and relaunch of books 1 to 3, and my first novel, When the Boats come Home (now generally unavailable except second-hand).

The reason is that my publisher has gone out of business but, bless him, he has converted the book files for me so I can upload them to Amazon as print and e-books – this is work-in-progress! A companion new book seemed a good idea. And then I hit the buffers.

But wait! Much though I like trains, I am not a train! I am not trapped to run on rails! I can hop off and take a different route – and suddenly it crosses my mind, maybe the reason each attempt to write Book 4 has fizzled out is because I’m telling the story (pardon yet another railway metaphor) on the wrong lines!

Maybe it’s time to take a fresh look at the characters and the story I wanted to tell and see if, hidden amongst all the attempts and versions, there is a much more interesting way to tell it. (I am much encouraged by author Bonnie Garmus of Lessons in Chemistry fame – her book sold 6 million copies and has been translated into 42 languages – and took five years to write!)

Just as well our weather is currently beastly – it’s excellent weather for staying home and pondering book plots and ideas!

Life on the rollercoaster

Anybody else feel life is like a rollercoaster at present? Take the weather – spring is on its way and yesterday was bright and pleasant. I even spotted some skinny spikes of purple crocus in a neighbour’s garden. But today, it looks like the sun’s forgotten to get up and go to work!

But it could be worse.

Thurso, three years ago

No doubt we’ll have lots of one step forward, two steps back days of good and bad weather before spring really gets a chance to win!

But in the meantime there are silver linings.

Yesterday I got a call from my dentist. (I hear you gasp in wonder. Dentists in England are as rare as unicorns and as precious.) They had a cancellation so would I fancy coming in a day early for my filling and crown? Not the most fun way of spending an hour but at least I’d get it over and done with sooner. And I had a cunning plan… my silver lining.

Once Dr Josh and his kind nurse had done their worst/best, I staggered back to the car via a convenient mini-supermarket and came home laden with tried and tested comfort food for when I’ve been to the dentist.

Admittedly not what you’d call cordon bleu, but if you’ve got to spend time in the lower regions of the rollercoaster, you might as well make it comfortable!

The quest for the best bacon buttie

I’d had a busy weekend – and a busy week before that – witness no blogpost last Thursday. So I decided Monday would be my day off. And I woke up, well-rested with the bright idea that a bacon buttie would make a great breakfast.

Not hard to decide where to go – Southwold is only ten minutes away, and on the edge of that golden beach is a kiosk that sells excellent bacon butties (in ciabatta rolls, of course). I checked with Auntie Google to make sure it would be open and, reassured, set off cheerfully.

To my surprise and delight, there was space to park in the little carpark closest, so I tucked my car in and braved the arctic blast whipping across the dunes.

Rounding the corner, I discovered why there was space for my car. Gun Hill kiosk was closed. Deserted.

Oh well, maybe I’d find somewhere else. I haven’t had time for a thorough wander along Southwold High Street for countless ages. It’s an interesting mix of chain-store clothing outlets like Joules, White Stuff, Seasalt, Fatface – all the kinds of shops an elderly population like the inhabitants of Southwold really needs – charity shops, antique shops, one excellent bookshop, and lots of tearooms, cafes…

So it was easy to find one open and advertising bacon baps.

The coffee was good and the bacon bap was just what I had been hoping for. Generous soft white bap and delicious hot salty bacon… Perfect!

And afterwards a productive browse in the bookshop (2 books and a beautiful notebook) and a nice chat with the staff there; ditto at the charity shop (more books… and 3 elephants).

I admit I prefer camels (that’s another story) but I just could not resist these three! The black one is some kind of dense hard wood; the brown one is some kind of stone, and the grey, sweet little Dumbo one is made of china. And no, I don’t think you’ll find me on Antiques Road Show declaring my surprise at having found a rare and valuable treasure!

Though they will be treasured!

There is a season…

I’ve finally taken down and put away all the lovely ‘Happy new home’ cards I received. But some came with gifts attached. This is lovely but, in my ‘umble opinion, is definitely witness to hope over experience.

As my friend Val said the other day, spying the kalanchoe she gave me: ‘Is it still alive then?’ Proudly, I was able to demonstrate that it was indeed alive.

But the lovely cyclamen Bev gave me is looking very droopy and sad.

And the peace lily, which came in a lovely display a while back, is also looking sad, the leaves browned and dry at the tips…

I am not such a dinosaur that I don’t Google things but when it comes to my houseplants, I have recourse to my favourite and infallible guide to everything you could ever want to know about houseplants by Dr Hessayon.

So I fetched it out of the bookcase and as I was turning to the index at the back, it fell open at the definition section and a word leapt out at me:

Dormant. There in black and white, I found myself being reminded that I, as well as my houseplants, live a natural rhythm of blossoming and flourishing, putting on lots of green growth – and then we all need to have a rest, built up our strength again, before the next season.

I’ve been fighting this dormant/resting season. I haven’t really written anything much since November when I managed 30 chapters of a classic cosy English crime novel for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) that is now sitting wilting like the cyclamen.

Unlike the happy snoozing dormouse or just as happy big brown bear in their hibernation cosiness, I’m awake enough to get cross with myself for what feels (blame my Calvinist upbringing!) like laziness!

I fight back by listing what I have actually written in the past six weeks: one short story which circulated with my Christmas card, one Bible study for an internet Daily Devotional, 2 sermons/church services, a couple of poems and this is my third blog posting. So not out stone cold like the hibernating hedgehogs whose blood pressure drops so low they seem dead (but aren’t). There is still a little creative life pulsing through my winter-slowed veins.

And maybe that’s ok. Winter – dark and dreary days when the body just wants to rest – isn’t the time to demand high output and huge productivity. It will do no good – like me overwatering the cyclamen, putting the peace lily in the wrong environment for now.

Our culture demands non-stop productivity but maybe there’s a time to listen to an older wisdom that knows when to rest – and maybe relax and enjoy it!