Good luck to awesome author and journalist David Lawlor in his new life, making our families’ pasts come to, er, life! His is one of the few blogs I still read, and his story in our upcoming “antrollogy” reboot (yes, it really does exist!) is one of my favorites.
Jobs are funny things … you can invest your heart into them, or you can simply take the money and run. I’ve tended towards the former rather than the latter in the course of my journalistic career, but that’s about to change.
After 18 years with my current employer I’m about to head off into the great unknown – and not by choice, but by redundancy. It’s a little scary as prospects go but I’m hearted by the example of others who have made the same leap and found that everything has worked out just fine.
You only have to look to Pope Francis II for an example. Before he donned a collar of his own, he used to grab people by theirs. You see, Il Papa used to be a bouncer in a Buenos Aires nightclub before he answered the call (and I don’t mean the one for last…
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Give it up for John L. Monk! He’s done it again…
I’d buy these, Alianne!
Call it a synopsis, a back copy, a blurb, or Satan’s revenge upon writers, the 200 or less words that describe a book always have the power to reduce a writer to tears. Over ten book into the game, I can honestly say I still hate blurbage with a passion. Why? Because being forced to distill a story down to one one-thousandth or less is cruel!
Ask me about my book, and you’ll probably get one of two types of responses:
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Author Christoph Fischer has been interviewing the authors from the charity anthology I just pre-ordered from Amazon. I can’t reblog them all, but this one… Well, the author and her husband bought a woodland! If you go out in the woods, today…
Today I’m welcoming Sylva Fae whom I’ve met through our work for “You’re Not Alone”, an anthology in aid of MacMillan Cancer Care. This interview is part of a series of blog posts to introduce my colleagues in this endeavour. The anthology is available for pre-order and will be released on July 11. Twenty-seven writers from around the world, including myself have entered an assortment of short stories for your pleasure, show your support by liking the new page on Facebook and expressing an interest in buying the book.
You’ll find the book on your Amazon for per-order via these links: http://smarturl.it/YoureNotAloneAnthhttp://bookshow.me/B00Y5RCOOE
You’ll find the Facebook page here:
And here is the fund, in loving memory of Pamela Mary Winton
I am a mum of three small girls and loving it. I love being outdoors in the…
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Get it while it’s a bargain! One of my favorite sci-fi novels of recent years!
Listen to Roz.
You know my bookseller friend Peter Snell, of Barton’s in Leatherhead? (He’s the co-host of our Surrey Hills Radio show So You Want To be A Writer.) Peter is a staunch supporter of indie authors, and he mentioned to me that he’d been talking to an indie writer I know who wanted advice on revamping her novel cover.
Oh you mean Alison Ripley Cubitt, I said. Her science fiction novel?
It’s not science fiction, said Peter. It’s a contemporary eco-thriller.
And therein lay Alison’s biggest problem.
So how did she end up with a cover that sent the wrong message? How was she persuaded to change it – because she’d made that choice for a good reason. And what did she change it to?
I thought this would make a useful case study. Publishers often rebrand covers if they keep a title in print a long time, and…
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Carol’s new book is a real winner. Just out today, and heartily recommended!
Because Ridgetop is my fifth book, I’ve a lot less stage fright with this launch. I already know some people will love it and want more and others won’t like it (and may throw rotten tomatoes.) What matters is that I love creating characters and stories, and it turns out that putting my work on stage like this is not a total waste of time. Ridgetop is now available at Amazon.com as ebook ($2.99) and paperback ($14.99).
In what is seen as a crackdown on diminutive talent, the 2015 Film Festival has insisted that all women wear heels on the red carpet and that pint-sized men ‘must bring their own pogo stick’. Commentators agree that gone is the Golden Era of Hollywood, when Mickey Rooney could demand to be placed on plinth and his co-stars were forced to saw their own legs off ‘at the knee’.
There is evidence many film scripts have been doctored to accommodate miniature casts; Ewoks were once Wookies, ‘The Hobbit’ originally featured the Jolly Green Giant and ‘Little Women’ was about an all-female basketball team. Responding to public pressure, Cannes has attempted to remove undersized actors with oversized egos; focusing on underrated but vertically-blessed performers such as David Prowse, King Kong and ‘that woman who holds the torch for Columbia Pictures’.
Cannes insisted that it was…
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I give this five stars, and a reblog…!
You’ve written a book. It’s been published. Your agent told you that he/she has never read a book like it. Your publisher has told you that your voice is entirely unique. The quotes from celebrities on the front cover of your book reinforce this sense of untouchable brilliance. The first fifty amazon reviews have flooded in from industry people who are encouraged to display kindness. Traction begins…but all of these opinions are inherently biased.
Then comes the first negative review from Jeremy, from Hounslow. Your brain immediately reacts by telling you that Jeremy must be mentally ill. Then you decide he must be a troll. (Because you’ve convinced yourself that you are so special, that there are people alive who spend their free time attacking your books, hoping you say something, because that’s how you think they think they will get famous. Even though nobody read your last novel.) So…
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This is my favorite of Carol’s books, yet. And I’ve loved them all.
The car was a ten-year-old Buick with 193,000 miles, bought with every bit of Angela’s savings plus most of what she’d earned from the summer tour. Everything she owned was stuffed in the trunk and piled inside, leaving a tight space for herself behind the steering wheel. Atop a box on the passenger seat, the theater company’s glossy souvenir program stuck out of her shoulder bag. Her bio and glamour photo were printed inside: Angela Henderson, Aldonza in The Man of La Mancha. The tour had gone on without her, but she did not yet feel separated. Performing was real life, not this. In real life, she did not need a car.
She’d left Chicago that morning, a spider swinging out on her own thin thread. Her voice might be gone—temporarily—but this was no time to lose her nerve. Everything new was scary in the beginning. Like driving for…
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