Wednesday, 11 December 2013


Thanks to all those who participated in READ TUESDAY.
   Not to go all Julie London on you, but they've taken the moon away. Chris McMullen's December party for books is over. For a first stab at it, we had a stab at it.
   Recap. The mission, should we choose to accept it: promote books. Hold a sale on the 10th of December. Get people talking about reading and writing. On a Tuesday.
   In the run-up, I hosted people on this blog. And I ventured into the icy wastes to spread some decidedly off-kilter humour. First, I came up with twenty questions for writers.
   That didn't quite cut mustard. I realised I had to answer my own questions. That didn't quite cut the mustard either.
   I ended up answering my questions differently every time.

By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

   Then I created Wanted Posters for people featured on the blog. (One author dressed up for this. There's always one.) I chased down a lot of scribblers, inviting them to appear here. Those who responded certainly rose to the challenge.
   It was okay that not everyone responded - I'd still be blogging guests until the same time next month if everyone had made that commitment.
   There were a few points I didn't care about. If I helped you out and you couldn't help me back, that was okay. I invested a lot of time and energy in this, not caring about a tangible return on that investment.
   It is foolish to place a final value on an exercise like this by noting that value in terms of sales. I only recently had the internet installed, and this was my first improper chance to dive in and wade across a publicity campaign...
   So it was never about sales. It was about organising things. Adapting. Picking up skills. Drinking enough coffee to kill small creatures...
   Ultimately, on the day, it was about shooting myself in the eye with a razor-sharp fragment of my own thumbnail, and talking to a submissive type with an interest in ropes at umpty in the morning.
   Yes, READ TUESDAY was a party. And I was never going to find myself in the kitchen at that venue. I ended up halfway down the cellar stairs, dungeon-bound, marvelling at the improbability of a lady's capacity to walk on spiky skyscraper heels.
   Some guy turned up with a guitar and there was a loose three-way conversation about zombie-killing techniques.
   And that was my READ TUESDAY. It's worth noting that not too many free copies of my titles went out the door. Even so, WITCHES was propelled to 22 in one of those Top 100 charts.
   That made me realise how few sales are required to scale the heights. Statistics like that are worth noting, but not worth obsessing over.
   Oh, and I was asked for my autograph.


  1. I am so not surprised you're a rope guy.

  2. Misha, the submissive lady had an interest in ropes. She still has.

    1. Oh. Well, I meant my remark as a compliment. The rope enthusiasts that I know tend to be both creative and detail oriented, and that's the impression of you I get. But I'll just shut up now.

    2. I give the illusion of being organised and handy with details. Suddenly forced to fly an aeroplane in a crisis, I'd probably yell for a doctor. Of music.


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