Anatomy of a novel
"Print bookselling remains artificially silo’d by country even today, for variety of legacy historical and logistical reasons. But by contrast, the global ebook marketplace is a seamlessly international one.”
So begins Author Earnings' latest report entitled:
February 2017 Big, Bad, Wide & International Report: covering Amazon, Apple, B&N, and Kobo ebook sales in the US, UK, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand
If you are a writer of ebooks or just interested in the publishing industry, you should read it for yourself …
mailing list to get a free e-book copy of the first novel in my funny Windy Mountain series.
IN A NUTSHELL: The mayor of Windy Mountain thinks he can defy public opposition and rip out his historic orchard, but he hasn’t counted on the reaction of Tasmanian tiger hunter Moose Routley. AUSTRALIAN HUMOUR WITH A FEW DASHES OF MYSTERY: 62,000 words.
I’m using a service called BookFunnel to deliver this book. The aim is to get it easily to people's devices. …
As a writer, I’ve always had a problem with being pinned down to a genre. As a reader though, genres make a lot of sense to me because they inform which shelf I need to peruse to find something that suits my mood.
So I'd better declare my hand.
I’m a humour writer. The problem now is working out where to shine the torch to find out which murky corner my work is lurking in.
This week I’m taking part in a global internet happening called #ComedyBookWeek.…
Major BS is getting a makeover. My 2007 novel has a new title, some tweaking and tighter editing. It’s due to be released on August 23 but is now available for pre-order.
The new cover is displayed here. Feel free to tell me what you think of it
The crux of the story is unchanged: what’s a bumbling Englishman with ideas above his station going to do with a bunch of illegal immigrants he’s accidentally brought to Australia?
I know illegal immigration is no laughing matter. …
It’s traditional to make your New Year’s resolutions on New Year’s Eve, but I'm not much of a traditionalist.
I pledged to write my latest novel while watching the sun rising out of the Pacific on January 1 in 2014. We were on holidays in Bermagui on the NSW south coast, a short walk from the famed Blue Pool.
At midnight, I was sound asleep. The previous New Year’s Eve I watched a spectacular fireworks display over the Venice basin. Apologies to Bermy, but I didn’t think they could match that.
I have a good excuse for not having a searchable index for my upcoming ebook of columns, Son, Give Me Back My Trousers. Well, someone to blame anyway.
As regular readers of this blog would know, I am in the middle of publishing some old work with Amazon KDP. My aim is to teach myself some of the ‘ins’ and ‘outs’ of formatting and marketing online. By the time I unleash my novels, I hope to have gathered some speed and expertise.
Son, Give Me Back My Trousers…
I have a confession to make. I wrote most of Jack and the Jellybean Stalk last century.
Many of the stories made it into various newspapers as columns — and they always garnered good feedback.
So I collated them into a collection which I submitted to a traditional publisher in 2002. But the feedback I got this time was very different. I received a curt rejection notice along the lines of: 'No one is interested in stories about your son but you, you tosser.'…
I’ve dipped my toe into e-publishing with the release of Romeo and Julie: a collection of funny short stories with Kindle.
Table of contents
. Romeo and Julie
. Living next door to Rembrandt
. Curse of the Unhandyman
. Moose on the Loose
. Letter on Noah: we want our Tasmanian tigers back
. Falling off the end of the newspaper world
. One small step for man, one giant leap backwards for photo processing
. Santa’s resignation letter
I think I speak for writers everywhere when I ask what’s the point shedding blood, sweat and tears writing a book if no one else gets to read it. I might as well be writing a diary.
This thought occurs to me because that’s exactly what I’m doing at the moment — a diary, albeit electronic. I compiled it day by day when my wife and I were on holiday late last year.
In years gone by, I would have done this in some kind of bound book with a pretty picture on the front that had nothing to do with the holiday, and the resultant guilt trip that a tree had been killed so I could frolic.
Well fancy that? I’ve just invented the time machine.
I came to it accidentally, which is how the best inventions happen. Penicillin. X-rays. Corn Flakes. The Microwave. Even Viagra.
In every case the people who stumbled on these innovations were actually trying to get to somewhere else.
That’s what happened to me.
In 1993 I wrote a novel called Apples, which I self-published, self-marketed and self-circulated in Tasmania. It sold reasonably well, but only because I have plenty of family and friends across Bass Strait.