Signing off

Well, it's been fun, but all good things and all that.

Self-publishing Looking for Buttons was an interesting experiment.  I received useful feedback from readers, I 'met' some fantastically helpful people online who came to my aid as I learned the ropes, and I alarmed a few old acquaintances who thought they were the inspiration for characters in the book (generally, they weren't).  A couple of them are still talking to me.  As for the others, well, if the cap fits, darling...

But now it's time to call a halt.

Various reasons mean that writing has been firmly on the back burner for some time now.  I rarely update this blog or the Facebook page, so I think it's time I declared them closed.  For now, the book is still available on Amazon, and I do still occasionally loiter on Twitter (@looking4buttons), so if you've enjoyed the book, do say hello.

Thank you to everyone who's taken an interest, especially if you bought the book.

Fergus would suggest this would be a good time to adjourn to the pub.  Dob would suggest a cocktail, preferably accompanied by a debonair gentleman.  Kate would probably hole up with a cup of tea and a glossy mag.  I leave it to you to speculate on which of those I prefer.  Au revoir.

A vaguely seasonal post

Yes, you're right, I haven't been very active on here this year.  Look, it's not easy being a jet-setting multimillionairess best-selling author.  Or so I imagine.  It's certainly complicated enough being a disorganised (im)mature student and semi-professional hermit.

And no, I'm not going to make up for my absence with an extended post full of seasonal jollity.  You know where you keep the mince pies and alcohol, you can fend for yourselves, seasonal jollity-wise.

What I can do is offer you a Festive Freebie, with Looking for Buttons available to download for nowt but the price of your internet connection from Christmas Day until 29th December.

Ho ho ho.

Never mind the quality, feel the gigabytes

Here in England it's a Bank Holiday weekend, which for those of you outside the UK means a national holiday in which people tackle home improvement projects quite beyond their capabilities or queue in endless streams of traffic to go to beaches packed with people huddled miserably over sandwiches now containing real sand as the wind lashes them with the driving rain.  It's a cultural thing.

So as usual I'm having a Bank Holiday Bonanza and giving away free copies of Looking for Buttons on Amazon.

Which is fine, except I'm not really sure anyone actually reads them.

When books are so cheap, even free, you can pretty much download as many as you like, memory permitting.  Never mind the quality, feel the gigabytes.  But when it's so easy to pile up the words, it loses meaning.  You get the buzz of a download without the deep financial commitment of, say, an enormous hardback to compel you to actually read the books you've amassed so avidly.

I might shift a few hundred books during this promo if I'm lucky but those stats are meaningless if no-one gets any enjoyment out of it beyond those fleeting seconds of the download rush.

So if you're reading this I hope you're here because you've read the book and you've enjoyed it.

Please tell me if you have.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find my adjustable spanner...

My true identity

Just to make it absolutely clear, I am not J.K. Rowling writing under a pseudonym.

Thank you.

Happy birthday Kate Harper!

This week marks the first anniversary of the e-publication of Looking for Buttons, so it's obligatory for me to mark that by sharing some of the things I've learned from the experience:

1.  People like free stuff.

I've shifted hundreds of copies of the book.  I've sold far fewer.  Despite this, I did get my first UK royalty cheque earlier this year.  Should have had buns a la Nesbit for tea, bought fish and chips instead and the rest went on the rent.

2.  Being a writer is not 24/7 glamour.

See rent comment above.  And I still haven't had an opportunity to wear my frivolous shoes.

3.  People are fab.

People I have seldom or never met have helped me with technicalities and promotion.  Friends have read the book, bought the book, plugged the book, listened patiently to me fretting about the book and generally been very positive about the whole thing.  Complete strangers have sent me nice messages via Twitter, Facebook and the Kindle Users' Forum and posted reviews on Amazon.  As a shy and retiring hermit, I find this all slightly overwhelming.  Thank you, all of you.

I won't witter on.  You're busy people and I'm supposed to be writing an essay (being a mature (immature) student is a great way to put off writing the Difficult Second and Third Novels).  But it's been an interesting and sometimes fun year, so if you're reading this, thank you for coming to the party.

Do help yourself to tea and buns.

Another cover story

Yes, you're right.  It has been a while.  And while I'd love to have something exciting to report, it's actually all been terribly mundane.  Life as an author is not all one giddy social whirl, you know.  However, I do have a few nuggets of information to impart:

1. If you have nothing to say, don't say it.

It's not terribly helpful when one has a book to plug, but as I hadn't anything worth posting, I didn't.

2. The Difficult Second Novel lives!

It has revived and, what's more, I'm off to work on it in a minute so I can't hang around here chatting all day.

3. Looking for Buttons has had a facelift.

Now I'm against facelifts on principle (putting a bag over one's head is so much cheaper, and reversible).  On the other hand, marketing Looking for Buttons as a romance wasn't doing it any favours, so I'm putting the emphasis on its humourous side, with a recategorisation on Amazon and a new cover.

(A new cover, pictured sometime today.)

It's an experiment to see how these changes will affect sales, if at all.

4. And it's FREE!

To kick-start the new look, I'm holding a three-day Bank Holiday Bonanza from today until Tuesday, so get it while you can.  (Or wait until Wednesday and pay for it, that's fine by me.)

Right, that's it for now.  I've got another book to write.  Over and out.

Never knowingly oversold

When you're an indie writer, you're something of a one (wo)man band.  You can rope in other people for some of it, of course.  I can't design covers for toffee (or for books, come to that) so I was overjoyed when a kind gentleman did it for me after a timely intervention by the wonderful Norfolk Bookworm.  But the bulk of it falls on the writer.  Ah, cries the voice of reason, you wrote the book, so why not?  After all, it's all your fault and it's entirely self-inflicted.  But, oh, I do have trouble with promotion.

Partly it's down to inherent bashfulness, which is why most of my family have no idea that the book even exists.  I've managed to overcome this to some extent, irritating my Facebook friends* with intermittent chirpy enticements to buy the book even though all the ones that are going to have done so already (a few are still talking to me).  But selling myself doesn't come easily.  The only way I can bring myself to tell people about Looking for Buttons is if I've got a free promotion running.  The Valentine one went so well I extended it into a four-day extravaganza and the book hit Amazon's humour top twenty in the UK charts.  I was bold that day and actually told a few colleagues, who got quite excited and told more people and so I shifted about five hundred books in a short space of time.  Word of mouth does work, and it's the best sort of advertising.

It seems I am going to have to work on developing an outgoing character.  This is going to be harder than writing the Difficult Second Novel.  Perhaps I should just strap on a bass drum and cymbals and march down the High Street blowing my own trumpet.

* apparently this still isn't an oxymoron, even though I never see most of them for years on end

I'm only doing this because I love you

It's that time of year again, a time for love, a time for hearts and flowers, a time for showing affection through little, or not so little, tokens of esteem, a time for being sold overpriced tat by ruthless flint-souled commercial bloodsuckers exploiting your panicked need to conform to an artificially inflated non-festival.  And I know you feel that need to buy something, anything, no matter how pink, how tacky, to show you care.  So, yes, you could shell out thirty quid on six crispy roses and a card that will go straight in the bin because she really doesn't want to date a man with no imagination.

Or you could gift your beloved a copy of Looking for Buttons.

It's FREE to download from Amazon on February 14th, but I won't tell them if you don't.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Getting technical

No matter what non-scribblers may think, writing is a technical occupation.  You don't just dream up characters and storylines and nurture them into a novel.  Before that happens, you have to get to grips with the tools of the trade.

I suspect as long as people have been writing, there have been writers muttering dark imprecations about those tools.  There must have been stone tablets that shattered just as the chisel was reaching the good bit.  For every breathtakingly illustrated medieval bible, there must have been countless sheets of screwed up vellum lobbed into the fire by a frustrated monk.  The advent of the printing press must have created so many new ways for things to go wrong that Caxton must have been cursed in the same way as a Windows fatal error that occurs just as you were about to save that crucial file.

Which brings me (clumsily) up to date: the writer's relationship with modern technology.  Now you may have noticed by the paucity of illustration and zippy effects on this blog that I am not the techiest of people.  For all their shiny futuristic glamour, computers are merely tools, albeit less straightforward than a hammer, sometimes to the point where I am tempted to juxtapose the two.  But when you dip a toe or ten in the chilly waters of self-publishing, you need to get to grips not only with word processing but with creating a cover image (OK, I ducked that - thanks Graham!), maintaining an online presence and grappling with uploads and downloads, all the time suspecting something somewhere has gone arwy (I'm yet to receive any royalties from Amazon, not sure if that's because I haven't earned enough or because I did something wrong when I put the book up for sale).

Regular writers have publishers to worry about that sort of thing.  When you're a one (wo)man band it can start to creep in and suck out the time and enthusiasm you were saving for the actual writing.

So what I think I need is something to take the next book out of my head and drop it straight into yours, for a small fee of course.  I'll see what I can dream up.

PS Looking for Buttons will be FREE from Amazon this Valentine's Day.  That's got to be better than some wilting roses and an overpriced box of chocolates.

Looking for Buttons is free for Christmas - oh yes it is!

The curtain rises to show a simple domestic scene of pre-Christmas pandemonium.  Downstage a young(ish) woman (LUCIE) sits amid a sea of wrapping paper.  She has bits of sticky tape in her hair and is sobbing brokenly into a piece of tinsel.

LUCIE:  Less than a week until Christmas Day!  How will I ever get it all finished in time?  I must wrap all these presents and get them to Father Christmas without delay, yet there is also the laundry and the cleaning and to do that I must find the floor under all this paper.  The tree is drooping and the Christmas cake is not made.  All I want to do is read a book!  (She sobs.)

Enormous flash, stage left.  Enter FAIRY GODMOTHER, with Kindle.

FG:  Oh, do stop snivelling, woman!  Buck up and pull yourself together.  You'll get it all done, because you always do, and if you don't, well, quite frankly, does it matter?  You don't even like Christmas cake and there's a packet of Cadbury's chocolate fingers in the cupboard.

LUCIE:  I've already eaten most of them.

FG:  There were two packets, so nil desperandum.  Unless you've already eaten both, in which case you are a glutton and I have no sympathy.  Now put down that sticky tape -

LUCIE:  I can't, it's stuck to me.

FG:  I shall ignore that remark.  Shut up and listen.  While you shall not go to the ball -

LUCIE:  Why not?

FG:  You're a hermit.  You hate parties.

LUCIE:  Oh yes.

FG:  Where was I?  Oh yes.  While you shall not go to the ball, you shall have a good book to read over the Christmas period, for - tra la la and abracadabra - Looking for Buttons will be free to download from Amazon for five days, starting on Christmas Day!

LUCIE:  Oh.

FG:  You're supposed to leap about for joy at this point.

LUCIE:  But I've read it several times.  I wrote it.  And I don't have a Kindle.

FG:  Flaming heck, you can't please some people.  All right, here's a second hand boxed set of Hammer House of Mystery and Suspense.  You can have an hour off from the chores to watch the one with David McCallum and then you'll have to get back to work.

FAIRY GODMOTHER waves wand and turns LUCIE into a teapot before turning to beam at the audience.

FG:  Meanwhile, those of you who love romance, happy endings and aren't whinging hermits can download Looking for Buttons free from Amazon, 25th-29th December.  Merry Christmas!

Probably nothing sinister

I thought that once the book was out there that would be it.  Looking for Buttons is finished, there is nothing more for me to glean.

Then this evening I realised that Fergus is left-handed.  I can't understand why I hadn't noticed before.  This is bugging me.

Honestly, you think you know someone so well and then you find they've been holding out on you...

[Adding the labels to this post, as I clicked on 'fictional characters' I distinctly heard a Scottish voice shout, "Oi!"  I think this is the point where I have a strong cup of tea and a little lie down.]

Turning back at the last minute

I stopped writing a while ago.  Nothing was coming together and sales of Looking for Buttons have not been particularly encouraging (yes, I know admitting this is not good PR but I am nothing if not a realist) so I was pretty much ready to call it a day.

And then today, I wrote a poem.  It was a peculiar experience.  Past attempts at poetry have been jolly fripperies, pastiches of childhood favourites.  I did go through the adolescent angst-poet phase twenty years ago, but that - I hope - left no evidence to condemn me.  But today was something else entirely.  I wasn't trying to do anything writerly, in fact it was as crushingly mundane as brushing my teeth prior to getting one of them filled (I have a kamikaze wisdom tooth).  And there, without warning, was the poem, nebulous at first but clearer by the second, like wiping grime from a railway carriage window with the hem of my sleeve to catch a fleeting glimpse of something true.  It wasn't writing, it was more the process of remembering something I didn't know I knew.

I'm not going to publish the poem here, not now.  I need to live with it for a while and I suspect it might be more personal than I realise.  Showing it to other people might be like flashing my knickers at the Archbishop of Canterbury: perfectly feasible in this day and age but not terribly wise.  But it seems that although I've given up writing, my subconscious hasn't.

And so on I plod...

Why I'm choosing to self-censor

When I started writing Looking for Buttons seven years ago (I know, I know), it was just a throwaway line, one that would mean little to anyone not growing up in the UK in the 1970s and 1980s.

When I published the Kindle e-book on Amazon in June, it was still just a throwaway line that would mean little to anyone not growing up in the UK in the 1970s and 1980s.

Then the Jimmy Savile scandal broke and suddenly a fleeting reference to Jim'll Fix It no longer seemed right for a lighthearted book meant to entertain.

I've edited the text and uploaded the amended version to Amazon this evening (would have done it sooner but life was a bit medical for a while).  I think Amazon will let those who have a copy download the updated version; not having a Kindle myself I'm not a hundred per cent sure on this.  Either way, I'll be having another free download day before long, which I'll flag up here, and anyone who wants the new version can get it then.

Making a guest appearance

Yes, I know I haven't updated for weeks.  While my writing persona spends her days wearing impractical shoes and reclining on a chaise longue, dictating the latest page-turner to a dapper and handsome secretary clad in an immaculate tweed suit, the rest of me has to deal with day-to-day crises.  Suffice it to say that several hit at once, resulting in no time or inclination to use a computer.

Anyway, this is just a quick update before I return to the World of Worry.  The lovely Jane Wenham-Jones was kind enough to invite me to contribute to the Guest Room of her Wannabe A Writer? website.  You can read my bit here.

Just because you think they're out to get you...

As Lexi Revellian wrote recently, Writer's Angst is a well-documented complaint.  I've moved up a gear.  I have Writer's Paranoia.

It's been coming on for a while.  I had a week where Looking for Buttons sold pretty well.  Then I had a week with no sales at all.  I panicked and held a three-day free promotion over the Bank Holiday weekend, which saw it climb to number 7 in Amazon's UK humour chart and number 29 (I think) in their US humor chart.  I waited, with the obligatory clichéd bated breath, to see how this would affect sales.

It didn't.  Nothing happened for a few days, then today, glory be, I had a five star review on Amazon UK (thank you, whoever you are!) and sold a respectable handful of copies.  When I checked a little later (compulsive checking of ranking and sales figures is an early symptom of Writer's Paranoia), two of these had been returned for a refund.

Well, that was it.  Crushed does not even begin to describe it.  While the calm-eyed scientist part of me was pointing out that it may not be that they actively disliked it, it may even have been an inadvertent multiple purchase caused by wobbly fingers, and anyway, does it really matter, the rest of me, the stressed majority that is already gibbering because I start a new job next week, is obsessing over those two returns.  Did they buy the book expecting haberdashery tips?  Fifty Shades-esque squelchiness?  Did they hate the prose?  The characters?  The plot?

I've taken some deep breaths and listened to my inner dispassionate scientist.  Sometimes you buy something and it's not what you expect so you return it.  I'm sure M&S don't weep because I've returned a jacket that makes me look like I'm wearing a cardboard box underneath it.  Why should I react any differently when someone returns my book?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to check my sale figures again...

Never too late to jump on a bandwagon

Looking for Buttons now has its very own Facebook page!

Apparently, this means that you can 'like' the book, as opposed to before the Facebook page, when you just liked it (or not - you are of course welcome to your opinion).  There are probably other things the page will do but I haven't worked it out yet.  Do please bear in mind that I am a neo-luddite and left to my own devices would probably still be self-publishing with crayons.

I'll be posting updates on Facebook from time to time and will continue to witter on Twitter as @looking4buttons.

Isn't modern technology grand?  All these ways to avoid actually talking to people...

[Don't forget Looking for Buttons is FREE throughout the Bank Holiday weekend!]