Archive for June, 2008

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Monday Guest Blog by Lisa

June 30, 2008

Senseless by Stona Fitch is a literary thriller that is going to be a huge hit for Two Ravens Press. The novel was originally released in the U.S just days after the September 11th terrorist attacks. The main character is Eliott Gast, an American economist taken hostage by a terrorist group. He spends forty days being questioned and tortured by his captors, and footage of Eliott’s ordeal is broadcast live on the internet. I have read a few of the American Amazon reviews for Senseless, and I am intrigued but terrified.

The cover quotes are impressive:

‘Startling in conception and disturbing in what it says about our times.’ JM Coetzee.

‘A chilling psychological thriller and a brilliant political fable for our time … should be situated on the literary map between DeLillo and Coetzee.’ Russell Banks.

The novel has apparently been made into a film, so I’ll be looking out for Senseless – The Movie, but at least with the film I’ll have the option of hiding behind cushions – not really appropriate when reading a book.

After much to-ing and fro-ing (after all, people have said they’ve been mentally scarred by scenes in this novel) I have made a decision. The older I get, the fewer risks I seem to be taking. Gone are the days when I would stay out clubbing until 5a.m and then be up for work at 7, gone are the days when I would listen to music on my Walkman almost every minute of the day and not care about my blasted eardrums, and gone are the days when I would regularly read disturbing fiction. My tastes are becoming far too cosy for my liking, so I am going to do something reckless: tonight I am going to stay awake, bottle of rum at my side, and I am going to read Senseless from cover to cover. Wish me luck. I will come back and report next week.

Talking of torture, I’m off to take the OH to the emergency dentist now as he is in tooth agony. I can’t help wondering if the torture in Senseless is going to include tooth removal. . .

Lisa Glass blogs as part of the Vulpes Libris (Book Fox) collective. Her novel, Prince Rupert’s Teardrop, is out in paperback now.

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Only following orders

June 28, 2008

That was an up and down week. Returns from the Waterstones 3for2s, there’s always going to be some, even on a whopper of a novel – because each individual store would have to sell exactly what they were scaled for in the first place to avoid some returns. The shops that sell all theirs and order some more and sell those still can’t stop the other shops returning. Then the Waterstones ‘routine’ 3-monthly return. Could have been worse. But could have been better if you know what I mean. But then on Friday a bumper 173 copy order for lots of different stuff from a wholesaler. Plus a bit of a rash of Paypal orders. Got to have broken even on the week. No, better maybe. Three steps forward and only 2 back. Oh yeah, we’re on the way up.

And by crikey - you should see the reviews coming through for Maggie Sawkins’ The Zig Zag Woman – in at least half the serious poetry magazines in the country. I’m supposed to make a tag/hyperlink to the title now so that you can click straight to the book on our website. Trouble is I’ve forgotten how and Sharon is out with the geese. I’ll catch it in the neck.

And George Gunn got a great review in the Herald today – but darned thing isn’t available on line so I don’t know what it said ! Ah, the ups and downs.

David

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Yikes…I’m Late

June 27, 2008

We don’t say ‘publishing’ out loud in this house any more than actors say the name of the Scottish play. It became law some months back. It’s now just called ‘P’. Makes us feel better when we are still ‘P’ing’ at 8 o’clock at night, as is not irregularly the case.

Part of the trick with the ‘P’, I am finding, is shifting from one thing to another. Not just a wee shift. I start with all good intentions first thing to work on the design of a cover. Balancing colours, blending and adjusting the fall of the light so as you can’t tell it’s a montage (feels a bit like not quite telling the truth – but hey, most of what we print is fiction!). Sneaking up on the cover to see what it will look like for the first time. Then the phone goes and there is some mate wanting to talk about Polish printers, which reminds me, I must pay the invoice for the last reprint of Credit Draper,  which reminds me, must decide how many to print of Senseless, but before I do that I’ve really got to look at the poetry manuscript that came in two weeks ago (we hate to keep people dangling). Oh, and if those XXXXs at the shop that had 4 copies of such-and-such three months ago don’t pay their account soon…  But the cover. I’d started on the cover. Once we’ve got the Paypal (hurrah! profitable sales) orders ready for the postie.

I know, most people’s jobs are like that. But you gotta have some sympathy for me – I just spent 26 years flying aeroplanes! It’s a big change. 

David 

 

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Strange days

June 26, 2008

There are days when it’s difficult to find anything halfway intelligible to say to the world on a blog. Which is why I’ve left it so late to try to say anything at all. It’s been a weird kind of day, even for us. It began with finishing an application for a small amount of funding for a couple of early 2009 publications to the Scottish Arts Council, furiously trying to calculate costs and potential profits. We then moved on briefly to a ‘coffee morning’ event a couple of miles along the road, in aid of one of our lochside residents whose family in the Philippines has been the victim of a landslide in recent flooding (we live among an oddly diverse group of people for a crofting community in the north-west Highlands! – positively multinational). David then set off to help a farmer at the end of the road shear his sheep (in the hope that he might pick up a couple of tips so we can figure out how on earth we’re going to get the wool off our poor little ones in the next week or two) and I’ve been setting up Two Ravens Press events at the Edinburgh International Book Festival and Book Fringe festival (a list will be available on our website very soon) and grappling with layout issues for the new edition of Corvaceous, out next Tuesday. Finally, a trip down the croft to give the hens and geese some grain, collect the eggs (a bumper crop today – 16) and check on the latest batch of little chicks just hatched out of the incubator. Oh, and in between all this walk the dog and stop him trying to swim out to play with the eider ducks out in the middle of the loch.

Maybe not an average day in the life of your average publisher, but that’s Two Ravens Press for you. And maybe, at the end of a somewhat peripatetic day like this one, you can see why we don’t always have anything particularly intelligent to contribute to the world of literary blogging :-) – but we’ll try to do better tomorrow. Once we’ve driven over to the post office in Ullapool with the next lot of mail and dealt with the slug infestation on the vegetable patch …

Sharon

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The Big Push

June 25, 2008

Afficianados of First World War history will know how the generals were always counting on the next ‘Big Push’ to decisively break out of the quagmire of the western front. The generals get a universally bad press. But I’m beginning to feel some sort of affinity – not with the pointless and, worse, professionally incompetent slaughter of a whole generation – but with the addiction to ‘the next time’. No matter how many times ‘this time’ doesn’t quite crack it.  The next big Two Ravens push is Edinburgh Book Festival and Bookfringe. We have forces massed for the central thrust – five authors in mainstream events – and a whole bundle of support on the flanks at Wordpower’s Book Fringe (Stona Fitch, Mandy Haggith, Peter Dorward, maybe the Cleave brigade). A whole supporting artillery division of books on our dedicated Two Ravens shelves at the retail outlet. Plus us, zooming about in observation balloons and banging Kettle drums. How can we fail to make a splash? I know, I know. I just can’t resist the word ‘breakthrough’. So seductive. To make it all even pay for itself all we need do is cover the cost of the shelf-space at the EIBF outlet, the transport for our authors, the transport for ourselves , a bit of accommodation and some eating out….  Easy peasy. We’ll be in Berlin by christmas.  Now all I need is a bunch of posters with some famously redoubtable face, like Kitcheners, and a big finger pointing out under the caption “This publishing house needs You !”    Come on lads and lasses, over the top…….

David

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Bookshops or web sales?

June 24, 2008

Brace yourselves – here comes another blog about the difficulties of publishing literary fiction! Not so much a moan, though, as an attempt to explain. Almost always, our authors are delighted to see Two Ravens Press books in bookstores (especially their own books!). New authors always ask about our ‘distribution’ and which stores we work with – do we get books into Waterstones, for example. They see that as a fine thing. There is a sense that, if a book is in a bookstore, then it’s as good as sold. That it must be doing well. That the publisher must be doing well. Good things all round. And it’s a perfectly reasonable attitude to hold. The trouble is, we are increasingly finding that getting our books into bookstores in a big way is almost always bad news.

Why? Because it’s no good just getting them into the bookstore – you need to get people to buy them. Otherwise the bookstore will just send them back – at an enormous expense.  Take Waterstone’s. I like Waterstone’s. They will take literary fiction. They’re interested in new writing. There are very few independent bookshops we’ve found who are as willing to take a chance on literary and innovative fiction as Waterstone’s are. (Times are tough for them too – it’s not a criticism!) But there’s a price to pay. They’ll order in your books if they like the look of them, but if they haven’t sold, or aren’t selling quickly enough, then 3 months later they’ll send them back. Makes sense: there are hundreds of new books – thousands of new books – being published every month, and only so much shelf space. Can’t blame the bookstores – but look at the impact it has on a publisher. We’ve talked about returns before, but for those of you that don’t know, a book returned costs us about 1/3 of what the bookseller would pay us for the book if they sold it. On the average £9.99 book, we’re lucky to make a ‘profit’ of £1.50 when it’s sold at average bookstore discounts (not much, when we somehow have to pay for our own time and there are also the company’s overheads to take out of it – which means that £1.50 isn’t pure profit at all). A return from Waterstone’s can cost us more than £1.50 (distributor’s fees for sending out and taking back in, total around 24% of invoice price i.e. around 15% of retail price. Plus postage to send out in the first place. We don’t pay return postage back from the store, thank heavens!) So even if we sell that book again, the profit is already gone.

So, what are the chances that the average work of literary fiction – especially from a new author – is going to sell out in 3 months? Well, judging by our experiences, negligible, without a LOT of marketing spend behind the book (and trust us, no marketing spend is possible on the kind of profits a small press will make from literary fiction). Even good book reviews in the national press don’t have the big impact on sales that you might expect. Which raises the whole question of whether the British book-buying public actually wants literary fiction that is challenging and different at all – but that’s for another day!

The truth is that, with the exception of a small handful of bookstores that really make an effort and support us as a independent press and put our books out on a table rather than just spine-out on the shelves … we make either no profit at all, or an active loss, on any bookstore purchase that isn’t a direct response to a customer order (in which case of course it is already sold). The truth is that we will make profit in future predominantly on web sales (and, especially in the case of poetry where so many books are sold at readings, through author events). And we can also feel more secure about sales to bookstores or online retailers via wholesalers like Gardners and Bertrams, who have pretty stringent returns policies that they in turn impose on bookstores, and who generally order our books in sensible quantities (though at the price of pretty hefty discounts!)

So what to do? What kind of business model does that impose upon a small publisher determined to make a go of things and yet very much needing to make something resembling a profit one of these days?! Well, obviously it would be foolish to say we’re never going to darken the doors of bookstores again! – we do need to have our books out there – albeit in sensible quantities. But what we are now trying to do is ensure that the bookstores we market to are the ones that have a genuine customer base for new literary fiction. That we focus on bookstores in the area where our authors live – which means we need very active authors who will promote their books locally. That we spend increasing time and effort trying to attract visitors to our website and our blog, on the assumption that what we will then have is an audience who are already predisposed to the kind of work that we publish.

I’m always interested by comments from both readers and writers on this kind of issue – the publishing business is an incredibly complex one, and so much of it can seem counter-intuitive. After less than two years in the business, there are days when we still shake our heads in utter perplexity! 

Sharon

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Monday Guest Blog by Lisa

June 23, 2008

A few years ago I fell in love with writing novels, and since then I’ve discovered other loves: one is tea (I can’t even think about writing, without a cup of tea to hand and preferably a cake). Another is blogging. However, blogging can be a rather risky activity. You might have read something in the news last week about the fact that more bloggers than ever are facing arrest. *Looks over shoulder*

Luckily for me, I live in a country where, theoretically, I have a right to free speech. But in practice, is that really the case? Perhaps nobody is going to come knocking at my door with handcuffs at the ready (not on account of my blogging activities anyway ;) ) but if I said the wrong thing about a certain book, author or publisher, (nothing libellous, of course) could I blacklist myself?

I don’t think I’m the only writer who worries about this. A while back I wanted to write an article for Corvaceous on the publishing industry. I asked one question: “Where is the publishing industry going wrong?” and I presented this to various people within the book industry, including literary agents, authors and booksellers. The booksellers and the literary agents came back with interesting answers, but could I get the authors to speak up? Could I heck. One or two authors were willing to participate but were very wary of talking about certain problems. It’s something I’ve also wondered about with the Vulpes Thursday Soapbox – where we commission authors write an impassioned piece on something close to their hearts – do these writers feel that they can say what’s truly on their minds, or are they worried that Industry Insiders Will Find Out, that their cards will be marked if they say the wrong thing? Are they censoring themselves?

These days it’s hard to even mention a famous book or company without people connected to those books or companies finding out, because many net-savvy people have Google Alerts set, so that if certain words are written in cyberspace, the alert-setter receives an email telling them about it.

As an aside, around the time that I was talking in interviews about my novel, and the significance within it of the Armenian genocide, I noticed my website started getting a lot of hits from a certain government office. Coincidence? Probably… but it still spooked me, as the issue was something of a political hot potato at the time. Eventually the visits ended, but for a while I wondered if I should stop talking about the fact that my family were survivors of that genocide.

So what do you think? Is it possible for writers to damage their writing careers, simply through blogging? Should we say what we really think and forget the paranoia, or should we quietly sip our tea and keep schtum? Is it always better to be safe (and silent) than sorry?

Lisa Glass blogs as part of the Vulpes Libris (Book Fox) collective. Her novel, Prince Rupert’s Teardrop, is out in paperback now.

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Home sweet home and a rant about dull fiction

June 21, 2008

Yes, we’re certainly happy again now that we’re back at the croft. Yesterday was spent frantically catching up on emails, an activity punctuated by the re-allocation of housing among a couple of dozen chicks at various stages of development, some with a mother and some (hatched in the incubator) without. Ah, chicken shit. We do love it so… The several-weeks-long heatwave that we had before we left, followed by 8 days of pretty solid rain while we were away, has sent the garden into a frenzy of growth – and resulted in a bucketload of baked potato-sized radishes. I do not exaggerate.

Meanwhile … glad as we are to be home, we did have some pretty fine times. Probably the highlight of the trip was the event on the work of Raymond Federman that we co-sponsored with Royal Holloway College’s Holocaust Centre, a wonderfully informal workshop in the very grand setting of the Imperial War Museum. Here is a photo of one of the panel discussions, showing Royal Holloway Professor of English Literature Robert Eaglestone, Two Ravens Press author Angela Morgan Cutler, Federman himself, and Royal Holloway historian Dan Stone (who gave a fantastic presentation on the way Federman continually re-invents the past).

Federman is 80 this year, and this is the first time his work has been published or recognised in any way in the UK, even though he’s incredibly successful in Germany and France, recognised as one of the founding fathers of experimental literature in the US, and translated into a number of different languages around the world. Which led to a very interesting discussion during the seminar about why it is that work like Federman’s is virtually unknown in the UK. This is something that’s a constant surprise to us – just as it was a surprise to find that, having made his classic of experimental fiction (Double or Nothing) available in print for the first time in the UK recently, and mentioned the various other events and publications happening around the world in 2008 to celebrate his 80th birthday, we’ve been absolutely 100% unsuccessful in getting any literary editor in any newspaper or literary magazine anywhere in the country to show the slightest sign of interest. Okay, so Double or Nothing does, when you pick it up and open the pages, look a little odd. It’s a typographical novel – the way the text appears on the page is critical to what Federman is trying to say in this particular work. Though don’t be misled – there’s a wonderful, funny, bold and deeply unpretentious story in there too. But not all of his work is quite so ‘experimental’, and all of it is deeply entertaining as well as addressing the fundamental and important issue of what a novel is, and investigating and playing with key concepts such as narrative and memory.

Interesting that, although the UK arguably led the way in the development of new ways to approach narrative in the early part of the 20th century (think Joyce, Woolf to name just two) it all seems to have gone a bit downhill from there and we’ve largely reverted to very conventional narrative structures, forms and voices. The icons of contemporary British literature – the Ian McEwans, Ishiguros – are writing very conventional works of fiction indeed. Doesn’t mean to say that they’re not very fine pieces of work (well, sometimes!) but they’re not really doing anything different. Or challenging. Or even (in the case of recent McEwan – sorry to any fans of his) interesting. As someone said to me recently ‘It’s because people want to get published that there’s so little that’s new and challenging in the UK literary marketplace’ and I’m sure that’s true. But that still begs the question of how we got to that state in the first place. Why it is that there’s absolutely no context in which to put work like Federman’s in the recent history of British literature, and yet there is in the US, France, Germany…

Ho hum. Same old goose and chicken shit, same old questions about the deeply conventional British book market and whether we’re not just completely insane to want to publish work that’s different and challenging! But we’ll cover that whole question of the sales (and returns!) of literary fiction one day next week…

Sharon

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Back at the front

June 20, 2008

Or was London the front-line? Felt like it. And that was just getting on the tube. Federman was an all-day dynamo of literary energy on Tuesday in the very grand setting of the Imperial War Museum. I learn so much from hearing people read their work, poetry or surfiction or whatever- really must find a way of making that material more accesible.  Susan Sellers read from her novel with different voices for the characters and created a whole early twentieth century drawing room in the middle of Heffers – complete with feeling of having to sit up straight to drink your afternoon tea. And sold a scoop-load of books as a result.

Then a 12 hour drive home to find that the goslings still remember me in a distant sort of way – they are adolescents now I suppose and didn’t want to appear like they cared that I was back. And now a mad round of catch-up with orders and invoices and VAT and expenses. But over all a feeling that we might just be doing something people want with Two Ravens.

Lots more later

David

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Guest blog by J. David Simons: Until the words sink in…

June 19, 2008

When Sharon invited me to write this blog, the suggestion was that I should do something surrounding the recent launch of my first novel, The Credit Draper. However, as I sat down to begin writing I realised that I could not ignore the gruesome events that have been taking place recently just outside my window.

You may recall reading about the two back-to-back murders of young women that occurred in Glasgow at the end of May. One was of a duty manageress stabbed to death as she closed up a West End restaurant. The other was of Moira Jones, brutally raped and battered to a death in a southside park.

My apartment overlooks that park. I can see the site of her death now as if I sit in the royal circle looking down at an empty stage in the aftermath of a Shakespearean tragedy. Moira Jones was my neighbour in that she lived nearby, at the other end of this crescent of apartment buildings. I recall only seeing her just once in the two years I have been here, yet we only live about fifty metres apart. It appears she was abducted from her car as she parked close to her home, dragged into the park, sexually assaulted and killed so violently by a blunt instrument that the police even now are loathe to reveal the exact details of her death. On the morning after her murder, I strolled through the park on my way to my daily coffee, passing close by to the unfound body. Fifteen minutes later, Moira was discovered in the bushes by a park ranger.

At first, there was some mild police activity, then out came the festoons of blue-and-white tape, and the park was sealed off. We asked what had happened but the police were stern-faced and tight-lipped. I had to go to the Internet and then the evening papers to find out more details. Moira then became a name on the page, like these oh so many deaths we read about daily from Brixton to Baghdad. The written word had little effect on me. My emotions had closed down, the barriers had come up, and I dared not imagine. It took many days for the words to sink in. That is the right phrase, isn’t it? – for the words to sink in – because that is their power, that is what they eventually do.

The area teemed with police in their squad cars and motorbikes and vans and underwater search units for there was a duck pond to be dredged. Forensic experts combed the park in their masks and white jumpsuits, they found some of Moira’s toiletries, a torn strap from her bag. A massive incidence control caravan set up shop with the words ‘Building safer communities’ scrawled on its side. Floral tributes arrived at the park gates. I can’t bear to cross the road to read the inscriptions. I have had nightmares, my partner Sofia is depressed by events. We both are. A giant movable police hoarding now stands by the park, opposite my apartment. It boasts a ten-foot high picture of Moira Jones. She looks happy. There are huge words in black lettering too: The Murder of Moira Jones – Appeal for Information. For some reason, it is these words that hit home. Perhaps because they are writ so large, screaming out the undeniable facts.

When the journalist Lesley McDowell came to interview me on 1st May for a feature she was writing for The Herald in the run-up to the launch of The Credit Draper, I took her over to the window to show here a view of the park. I told her that exactly 48 years to the day, on May Day, when I was just six years old, my father had taken me to see the singer and actor Paul Robeson sing Old Man River and talk about civil rights and social justice from the park bandstand. Lesley very nicely used that story as an introduction to the feature and my childhood memory became forever embodied in the printed word. The bandstand has sadly since been demolished. Moira’s body was found in the bushes not far away. The moveable police hoarding is still there though. Moira still looks happy. I think of civility and rights and society and justice.

J.David Simons’ first novel, The Credit Draper, was published by Two Ravens Press in May 2008.