Kindle

Surely everyone has heard of Kindle. First there was Amazon - cheap books by mail order, then cheap just-about-everything by mail order. Then cheap second hand books by mail order. With bookshops closing on the High Streets, Amazon seemed set to take over the world.

And then they launched the Kindle, their own e-reader. This moved them from bookseller to publisher in one easy step. Download your Kindle version of Favourite Author's book. No more tiresome trips to the shops to buy a book - you can have the electronic version in seconds. So easy. It was only logical that Kindle would move into Direct Publishing, giving everyone and his auntie the chance to put their magnum opus online for the world to read.

And why not? It's democratic, after all. In the Bad Old Days authors had to get past the Gatekeepers, as agents and editors fondly viewed themselves. Unless a deluded or misguided author was conned by a Vanity Publisher into parting with their pension for the joy of owning a garage full of copies of their unsellable memoir, this was the only route to publication. But not any more. Now you can upload your manuscript quicker than you can say "Unsolicited Manuscript". No fuss, no rejections, just instant fame and - possibly - fortune.

And some Kindle authors have done rather well. Joe Konrath and Amanda Hocking have become rallying cries for the Kindle Crowd. Quite how many Kindle millionaires there will eventually be is too soon to know. Will early interest dry up once the novelty wears off and quality issues turn the tide? Or will it herald a new age of real reading choice where you can buy a book on anything by anyone for as little as you are willing to spend?

Needless to say this is a hot topic on writers' boards. I don't belong in either camp - the argument does tend to get polarised and unnecessarily heated. It seems to me nobody knows what the future holds and all we can do is wait and see.

But, with the ease of publishing on Kindle I'd hazard a guess more people are putting their books up there than subbing to agents/editors these days. This is bound to reduce the slushpiles considerably. I've seen it said agents are paying more attention to self published books and it has been suggested they will eventually replace the slushpile altogether. Amanda Hocking is a case in point. If you can self publish and sell well you make yourself a hot commodity.

Launching a new author is a hefty investment for a publisher which is why so few get accepted. But self-publishing on Kindle is free - no cash outlay other than whatever the author spends on it. I can see why people would choose the instant gratification of having a book published there, even if no one ever buys it, over the relentless cycle of revision/rejection. That doesn't make them all undiscovered gems, nor does it make them all rubbish. But as the numbers grow the challenge is going to be finding the former in amongst the latter.

My Advice To You Is...

Many moons ago when I first lost my soul to the Internet I lapped up all the tips and advice so liberally available. Want to know about how to write a synopsis? - here's my recipe for cracking it. Don't know which agents to approach? Just try this site to put you straight.

All was hunky dory until I faced an unusual quandary regarding a submission I'd made to a well known and respected agency. I posted a query about it on a couple of boards and confidently waited for my new writer friends to wade in with some solid gold advice on how to proceed. What I got back opened my eyes for all time about the quality of advice on offer on the internet, and since then it's made me very careful about taking anyone's word for anything.

The trouble is that, wonderful resource though it is, the internet is full of people who for one reason or another don't know what they're talking about. I'd say the majority of message board posters don't know any more than you do, but rather than say so they have to chuck in their tuppence worth without a thought about the impact their advice might have. Then there are those further up the publishing ladder; surely they know a thing or two? Well, yes. But they probably don't know everything - and I'd hazard a guess they know a lot less than they pretend. One published author told me "This never happens" when it had happened to me, therefore it must happen.

And that's assuming everyone who offers you help online is a kind, well-meaning friendly person. Not all are, and you should be aware of that. There are many embittered and jealous individuals on these sites who have their own agenda. Don't believe everything you read. For a long time I comforted myself with the thought that people would sue if the things said about them were untrue, but that's not always the case. Not everyone has the wherewithal to go to law, and those who do often don't want the bad publicity it would attract.

So the lesson is, take online advice with a large pinch of salt and learn to exercise your own judgment rather than rely on others to lead the way.

But, having said that, here are some great query tips (of the tongue-in-cheek variety). They made me smile.

Birthday Wish List

It hardly seems like a year since I was writing about this, but they say that happens as you get older. Another birthday, another milestone. And it's been a momentous year in many ways, but I'd rather look forward than back. So I've been thinking about what I'd like to see in the coming year. Here is my wish list...

1. World peace and an End to Hunger (OK, sorry to be trite but I thought I'd get that one out of the way first)

2. My son settled and happy in a job he loves, or at least enjoys. It doesn't look very hopeful in this climate, but we can wish.

3. To lose at least a stone and get fit again. I've made a start on this but there's a long way to go.

4. To get a publishing deal for my book. Or my next book.

5. To sell the film rights for a record sum and retire to the Med to live on Bollinger. (Too much? Ok, a cottage in Melrose would be nice)

Rejection

Oops - a whole week gone by and I've neglected my blog. Sorry, dear followers. But a large yellow thing called The Sun (or so I'm told) has appeared unexpectedly in the sky, causing havoc with my normal troglodyte activities. Service has been resumed...

So..rejection. Are you sick of it? Do you cringe whenever you see an email in your inbox or hear the thud of mail on the mat? I have a fat file of rejection letters which I fondly think of as my battle trophies. Seems you can't really call yourself a writer without them, as this article would seem to prove. There is some comfort in knowing the Great and the Good suffered the same indignity as we lesser mortals. So take heart and look on every rejection as a step along a rocky road to success.

For Mother's Day

This is so sweet I couldn't resist posting for all mothers, or parents or anyone who's ever seen a baby.

This conversation is so intense I'm tempted to think they must be discussing the various merits and demerits of self publishing - I've seen similar arguments on writers' boards! What do you think?

Internet Slapstick

Why do we laugh when a man carrying a ladder turns suddenly and knocks some poor unsuspecting sod into a man hole? Or when the business man slips on a banana skin and lands ignominiously on his behind? Part of us loves to relish the humiliation of others. Of course it's not at all funny when it happens to us.

This week every writers' board I frequent has been buzzing with talk about the reaction of author Jacqueline Howett to a review of her book The Greek Seaman. I'm not going to post links because if you haven't already heard about this you must be living in a sensory deprivation chamber and if so you can easily Google her name to find it. To summarise, she was less than gracious that the reviewer pointed out spelling/grammar mistakes in her work and after an increasingly bitter row told him to F*ck Off.

Had that been the end of it nothing more need be said. But the ensuing reaction of the writing community was on a scale of Japan's recent tsunami. A flood of self-righteous condemnation, both on the blog and on writers' boards and Twitter, sent this story into the digital stratosphere. It's astonishing that one little book could create such a buzz, and for all the WRONG reasons. No doubt Ms Howett has sold a few more copies of her book as a result, but I'm not really interested in her per se. The reactions of others is far more interesting.

Why on earth were normal decent people mobbing a complete stranger like this? Does it really matter how good/bad/indifferent her book is? With the market awash with books who cares what a reviewer thinks of this one? No, this wasn't about the book. This was pure slapstick. This woman who had the temerity to put her work out there for review then reacted the way all of us would like to react to criticism and made a spectacle of herself. If we'd done it we'd be feeling awful, but this was someone else so it was alright to sneer and snigger. And all that sniggering added up to a tidal wave of indignation.

I can't help wondering how many of those doing the mobbing have even written a book, let alone published one.

British Summer Time

It's ten to twelve, according to my newly adjusted clock. But it feels like an hour earlier. And this is just day one of BST. I'll be getting this time lag feeling all through the next few months.

One thing I've noticed as I get older is the clock changes are getting harder to deal with. At the other end of the year the hour lag makes for a long tedious day that seemingly never ends. But this Spring switch is harder. I don't like feeling late all the time. I don't like the clock nagging me to eat when I'm not hungry.

The funny thing is I don't remember it bothering me years ago. I suspect it's change that gets more uncomfortable. Any change. An elderly relative refuses to throw out his old clothes for this reason; he'd rather wear a threadbare, stretched-out-of-shape, decrepit old pullover that a spanking new one he just got for Christmas. It's familiar. With these layers of familiarity we line our comfortable ruts.

And that's what makes it harder to reach out and embrace the new as the years go by. The thrill of novelty is replaced by the fear of the unknown. I don't know what there is to fear about going to bed an hour earlier, but there it is.

Maybe I should keep the clocks at BST and shut the curtains and maybe the Rest of the World will forget me?