Andrew McEwan's Blog: Words Are the Gravy On the Mashed Potato of Life - Posts Tagged "penguins"

Blimey, has it been a month? I must have had an ear infection as I missed the clamour. The full version of this blog's title should read:...With Supermodels. But one hates to boast. The penguins say hi.

Since my last sortie into self-promotion I've sold one book. One. None would be a disaster but one is a triumph. Thank-you.

I'm soon to publish an actual paper novel with the assistance of FeedARead.com. The last time I did this, in 2007, it cost me (or rather Lloyd's bank as I declared myself bankrupt soon after) roughly £2500. That was Underlay, which is still available to buy; in fact if anyone would like a signed copy ask, I have half a dozen going spare. But I digress. Print on demand being what it is today it costs nowt to make yourself a paperback writer. That is, there is no actual paperback until some literary pioneer strokes your button. Then, kapow. All the author pays for is 'distribution' to Amazon etc. A bitesize £88. Of course you have to do the proofreading yourself. And design a cover, but they make this fairly straightforward with a template. I'm waiting for my cover to be approved. I had waited nearly a week before deciding to change the wording on the reverse, thus starting over. Which is where the advice comes in. Don't do it in a hurry.

The novel is Ocellus. Until a few days ago you could have read it on Authonomy but I've deleted all but the first two chapters now so you'll have to pay! £5.99 I'm thinking. Or maybe I'll run a competition...

Sammy HK Smith is DC by the way. Sorry, Sammy, but WPC sounds sexier.

Greetings, friends and aliens! How are you this fine day? It's been a while. I've been busy. Okay, sort of busy. In fact, I've been holding my breath.

After four months and a full MS request I got a rejection this morning. Pah. The book was THUMP, and the agent shall remain nameless; but now that's done and dusted I feel...liberated. My last post was in September. Wow, look what I was doing in September. Not pretty. The whole depression/medication business came to nothing. I'm pleased about this. Goes to prove you shouldn't listen to other people's ideas about your mental health. You should cut down your drinking instead.

Naturally, I've taken up whiskey. There is logic in this, believe me. In terms of units a glug of Scotch is higher on the sensible scale than three cans of strong lager. There're only 28 units of alcohol in a 750cl bottle. That's like ten day's worth of allowable units and a bottle lasts me a month.

My sanity aside (and I'm feeling chipper today, thanks) I have actually been doing a lot of writing. THUMP vol. 1 is out in paperback, too. The 2nd volume is a third written and I currently have a giveaway running on Goodreads whereby you can get your grubby digits on a signed copy of Armwrestling the Dead completely for nowt. I do need to work on my profile, however. Expose myself more, if you will. I'll never be everyone's mug of choice, but my audience is there, lurking. I just need to coax you forth.

So it's back to the literary anarchist's chalkboard. Me selling out is put on hold.

Remember, you kick ass, you never kiss it.

Happy, kittens?