Published, here and there…

Well, what a journey…

A book I’d almost written off two or so years ago lay dormant, unloved – I was exhausted, really, after finishing it in 2010, and suddenly I hated it, it had taken too much out of me perhaps – lay in silence until early 2013, when I figured perhaps another look was due. And I liked it again, but it had flaws… I fixed them, the book grew on Sky cover thumbme once more…

So, to cut a long story short, the book – The Sky is Not Blue – is now published, via Mad Bear Books, in ebook and paperback form, and available through the usual online distribution channels (Amazon UK and other international Amazon sites etc.), will shortly be available for direct purchase through the Mad Bear Books website and, hopefully, through a few real life bricks-n-mortar booksellers too if my charm skills come true.

I haven’t been online much, haven’t done the manic self-promo stuff… can’t bring myself to foist my wares on anybody… a Kirby saleswoman I’d never have made! – but it’s there, for anyone who’s interested and, whilst it sits on the commercial shelf, I’ll just get on with finishing another.

The process of publishing is exhausting. To do a Good Job requires a level of commitment to the end product that goes way beyond the remit of Writer. But it’s all been worth it. To know that I’ve put out there a book I enjoyed writing, enjoyed editing, enjoyed (in a twisted, anally retentive way) formatting… it’s all been worth the effort. This bit now – the selling part – I’m not remotely interested in, am afraid, and so I shall leave my Beast to lurk and wait for the chance encounter with a stranger…

I’m such a romantic at heart.

 

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Intentional indifference…

Stumbled across this poem quite accidentally and loved it… not quite as appropriate in today’s stifling heat as it may have been in yesterday’s early morning rain, but still – perhaps it’ll help folk cool down.

The Rainrain

All night the sound had

come back again,

and again falls

this quiet, persistent rain.

 

What am I to myself

that must be remembered,

insisted upon

so often? Is it

 

that never the ease,

even the hardness,

of rain falling

will have for me

 

something other than this,

something not so insistent—

am I to be locked in this

final uneasiness.

 

Love, if you love me,

lie next to me.

Be for me, like rain,

the getting out

 

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-

lust of intentional indifference.

Be wet

with a decent happiness.

 

Robert Creeley, “The Rain” from Selected Poems of Robert Creeley.