Publishing

A discussion following the London Book Fair about how to get to writers before they take the self publishing route:

The final comment is that traditional publishing is dying and has been since the early 1990s.
The only way for writers is Print on Demand and then use a good marketing, publishing, new media company to get the book on phones and reading devices. Not the traditional book format. You will need to pay for this service.

All traditional advertising is to point people to your website.

And will you make a living? Another discussion.

A writer who went the self publishing route with a children's picture book took advice from schools and libraries and other resources. Kodak displayed the book at the London Book Fair. A follow up comment from a children's publisher invited this author to send him the book. As did another.

There are suggestions that many agents and publishers are rude and difficult to reach. There are some that are not. A few. One well known publisher usually rejects and tells you to buy her book on publishing. Briefly.

Contacts? Who you know? Become a 'celebrity' and publishers will ask you to write a work of fiction. A review of Dawn French's novel said it was good but went on to say that if it had been written by an unknown, it would not have been published.

That's the world - it's not merely moved onto electronic publishing.

It's not only that traditional publishing is dead because of its format, it's dead because for many it's a story that's written by someone whose picture they recognise.
And what drives this? Success. Success breeds success. And then the question, what is your definition of success?

One makes me want to throw up.The other fills me with joy.

Emotions

This is hopeless. Listened to Vanessa Redgrave talking on Radio Four about her latest film, "Letters to Juliet" which is about finding a lost love and then talking also about losing her daughter Natasha who died after falling on a ski trip and banging her head and then both her brother and sister's recent deaths.
Now I'm writing about Tessa's dad and I'm in floods.
And it's raining!!

Not going to show myself in public today, that's for sure.

The film festival last night was good though. Every film had something positive about it, some excellent music, some fantastic 'eyes' - great shots and observations and some surprising takes on what we feel we know. Some charming animation and I also laughed at both documentaries and drama.

Writing this has actually made me smile thinking how quickly we can go from one emotion to another. Don't feel angry thankfully...but now it's back to Leaving Coty which I am renaming. I'm adding, through a new angle, some of Meeting Coty to it, so it is absolutely watertight, complete in itself. One or two bits still to do, then a full read through again to see if it strengthens or weakens it and then a fine edit again. This will end, it will, it will.

Nothing left to lose

What I'm concentrating on - had a revelation last night of something I haven't covered in Leaving Coty and it's a major theme in Erosion, what people who have nothing left to lose do? A newspaper guy offers Tessa a big sum of money to tell her story of Coty. Of course she says no, but what would happen if she was so destitute that this would save her from the streets? No welfare system, no family, no back up. What would you do? What would I do? I've always wondered how I'd react if put to the test. Save myself rather than someone else? I think it's my biggest nightmare. I don't think I'd come out very well morally if I was in say, Belsen or Auswitz. I hope I would, but I don't know. Save myself at the cost of someone else, when really pushed to the limit?
So, when a sum of money for selling your story to the papers would save you from selling yourself, then would you do it? Would I do it? Would Tessa?

Jerezians

The people of Jerez were all welcoming and helpful, from the station bar, to the taxi driver, Mr. Garcia at the Bodega and cafe owners. And they all seemed to share a fun, lively, really enjoying life sense of humour.
They seemed leaner and taller than the Cordobans. And there was also a mexican feel element to some and to the city.
Bit bonkers too. In the cafe where, starving after the sherry tasting, we ate. Very expensive, think we were ripped off and it wasn't brilliant, but as I said, starving. The little boy of the owners, probably about three years old, kept wandering in and out, shaking his head madly, until he, still wandering in and out, started staggering.
And people in costumes, maybe a spill over from the festival in Cadiz and this little girl wasn't allowed to go, but still wanted to dress up, or maybe she always dresses up.
There was a wild west feel to the place and maybe the people needed humour to go with it. Or maybe it was the wind off the Atlantic and the smell of alcohol soaked oak and the definite feel of carnival and festival and any excuse to dress up and have fun.
We passed a group of men, musicians dressed, all dressed, as the Pied Piper of Hamlyn with white rats hanging from their outfits and a back street spill out from a bar with balloons and loud revellry. And all in the late afternoon grey of an otherwise deserted city.

Writers' group

Had to leave the Writers' Group early on Tuesday in order to throw up.

Inside the Art Gallery and Tasting Area

Feel lousy today. Have one of those really annoying, tickly coughs and a rasping sore throat topped off with a head numbing cold. Ache too. And working at the computer is doing my shoulders in, so going to work in long hand downstairs today. I was sorting Leaving Coty, plot wise yesterday downstairs and remembered how much easier it is to do that with the pages in front of you, not on the screen. So, see how it goes, but that is the plan.
So, no written blog today, just a couple of pictures of the Art Gallery and the main tasting area. We sat in a cosy little room off to the side as there were only four of us, plus Signor Garcia. Everything about the tour was great. Anyway, more on that when my head clears. Sorry to whinge.