Online book launch on 1 August

 Will you be there? 

 

Do come and join us.  

 

 

 

 

Between Worlds

 

We’ll be launching this book on 19 February at 7 pm GMT. This will be a truly international event. I’ll be using my Zoom meeting room form North Manchester, author S Nadja Zajdman will be joining us from Canada and Pam  Keevil from the south of England will be interviewing her.

Sharon has been a regular contributor to CaféLit and she has had several stories published in Bridge House’s annul anthologies. She has a strong writing voice and a very engaging style.

Between Worlds is a collection of essays / memoir vignettes, many of which have been published previously. They create an extra dynamic as they are gathered together in this collection.   

Read more about the book here.

Pam has acted as beta reader for Sharon and she will conduct an interview.  It should make for an interesting evening.

You can book a place here:

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/between-worlds-book-launch-tickets-1129469406399                 

Self Publishing workshop

 

Self-publishing workshop

I became a publisher because I tried to be a self-publisher first. I had the idea of turning my once-a-year Christmas stories into a book … and realised it would take me twenty-four years to produce a collection of short stories…so I invited others in. I then found it was fun to publish and we have built up quite a list now since 2008.

Yet many of the same issues, routines and rules apply to self-publishing as they do to the small press. For some people self-publishing may be a better option than traditional publishing. I’m running a workshop on what might be involved.

Who might self-publish

Thera are many reasons why you might opt to self-publish and there are a few pathways though. One trick is to find the right pathway.

Advantages and disadvantage

There are many of both: these will be discussed briefly

What a traditional publisher risks

And therefore what you have to cover yourself.

Some companies who can help you

Where you can find the people to help you with the services a traditional publisher supplies

Amazon KDP / Ingram’s and Lighting Source

These are the two main companies for print books. I’ll discuss the pros and cons of each one and also the argument about whether you should only publish an e-book with Kindle or go              wider.                               

Savings on processes

How you can get the above done cheaply or for free.

Marketing ideas

Many writers hate the marketing side of things but it can be fun. Here there will be a few  tips.     

Does this seem of interest? Then join us:  https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/self-publishing-workshop-tickets-1036589546237

This is ‘pay what you can afford’ workshop. I’m not charging for my time and all proceeds go to the Lancashire Authors’ Association.

Book launch of K M Kendrick's Afterwards

 

Come join us on 6 October. 

Girl is dead.

She knows she is dead because she remembers dying. The afterlife is not what she had expected – she has awoken into a nightmare, in which everything seems hell-bent on killing her all over again. She is the only one who remembers what life was like before death and she has no idea why.

Also, Girl has a secret. A secret which could end this strange world she has found herself in, if she manages to survive for long enough. As she begins to learn the horrifying truth about Afterwards, she is propelled into a journey which will change everything she thinks she knows about herself.

Grim in places, Karen Kendrick’s Afterwards is also fast-paced and emotionally challenging.

The only way to beat the game is to keep moving forwards, even if it means the end of the world.

Book launch St Ettie's Music School 25 July 2024

 Do come along to our online book launch on 25 July at 7 pm BST .Book yourself a spot here: 

There will be a chance to hear an interview with author Martin Varny about the book and he will also read extracts from it.

We've defined it as a young adult book as it features young adults. However, it  has a much wider appeal.  There is a strong fantasy element as well. People who love music will be delighted by the resolution of this story. 

      

Thirteen children aged between nine and sixteen, each denied the love and care of a family, are brought together to live at Saint Etheldreda’s Foundation. Exploring the building, they stumble upon some old, damaged musical instruments in a storeroom. The children are amazed when they discover that they can hear the instruments talking.

Saint Etheldreda’s Foundation was previously Saint Etheldreda’s Music School, run by Elizabeth, a young, insecure woman who suffers from devastating mood swings. She had stood before the final curtain of despair more than once.

A chance encounter with the principal of the Foundation, Miss Stratton, results in the Elizabeth returning to Saint Etheldreda’s. Through the wonders of music, lives are changed and a loving family is born.

Saint Ettie’s Music School by Martin Varny is a charming coming of age story.

Book launch - Dramatic Episodes by Janet Howson

 

1 April 7 p.m. online

Interview

readings Q & A 

Free Event  

 

Sign up here  

Read more about the book on Amazon  

This is one of our CafeLit serials. Dramatic Episodes are linked episodes that have appeared on CafeLit. Learn more about CafeLit and CafeLit serials at this event.   

See you there?   

Years of Eclipse by L F Roth

Sanderson inserts the key. His aim is right, in spite of the dim light. He turns it, expecting the usual barely audible clicking sound as the catch is released, but there is none. Puzzled, he tries the handle. The door opens. Has someone broken in? Don’t panic, he orders himself, as his heart beats faster. One slow step at a time he advances into the hall, leaving the door gaping behind him. “Hello,” he calls. The silence builds. Advancing, he inspects the bedroom, but everything is as it should be: the bed unmade, his pyjamas spread-eagled across the solitary pillow. Getting rid of its companion had been a good move — his back had improved overnight. As his gaze returns to the hall, he hears the toilet flush and stops in his tracks. The bathroom door swings open. A hand appears, followed by the head and shoulders of what proves to be a squat figure dressed in an overall and wearing a heavy tool belt. If he is a burglar, he must be a professional.

“Sorry about that,” says the intruder. “Caught short.”

No professional, evidently, but curiously at home. Sanderson remains uneasy: the face wears no name. Is he an electrician come to fix the light in the stairs? Caught short, he may have rung the nearest bell and, after a brief delay, produced his master key. Sanderson probes him.

“You are …?”

“The plumber. Pete Dexter.”

There is a wrench among his tools.

“Someone phoned in about a dripping tap.”

“They did?” He’d meant to report it, but had he done so? Occasionally, he will write himself a note as a reminder, but notes tend to get lost or else become illegible. His neighbour may have sworn over the dripping late at night when sounds magnify. She wouldn’t rest till she got hold of somebody. “You’ll have to put in a new …” He breaks off. Having intended to test the man, he himself is on trial. He stares into the distance, but the word he is groping for isn’t there. “A whatchamacallit. Like a discus. With a hole.”

Read more: 

Very Little Helps by Clare Weze

Normally, the café is too busy to overhear customers’ conversations, but today is deathly quiet. 

There’s a craft festival in St John Street. His workmates have been sent there to man a pop-up café and most of his regular customers have defected too, so Markus can hear every word the only two punters in the place utter. Every. Sodding. Word. They’re in their sixties – or maybe their seventies, it’s hard to tell – and they’re ladies dressed to lunch, even though it’s late in the day. A talker and a listener. The talker, who’s white, is well curled into the chat, like such types always are, and the listener – a black woman – is taking it like it’s medicine. 

The words roll over him at first, but then something in the monotony of her tone makes him tune in. Just to see what could be that dry. Dry, yet pulsing. Pressing. And Jesus. It’s all about her oil-fired central heating boiler. The listening one can’t steer the conversation. She has a feeble try every so often, but BOILER. BOILER MAN. SERVICE AGREEMENT. BOILER just steamrolls her.

Markus wipes the counter down in rough, zig-zagging sweeps and wonders why the boring one wants an audience when a wall would do. He shoves the cloth onwards to the sink sloppily, thinking of his colleagues, Doog and Mali, who will be well underway by now. They were chosen to run the pop-up café at the festival because they out-hipster him. Jacob, the manager, has left Markus in charge – yet again – because he says he’s solid and dependable. It wasn’t his ambition to be dependable. Jacob says something about dependable Hungarians, but that’s bullshit, because Markus’s British Hungarian mum lost touch with the Hungarian side of the family, so he knows embarrassingly little about Hungary. He just pictures the Danube and all the lights in Budapest, like everyone else.

Read more: 

Up in Smoke by Paula R C Readman

“I’ve always loved this time of year, especially November. As a child it always seemed magical to me,” James Peterson said to the driver of the van he’d hired for the day. 

“Right,” the driver said rolling his eyes with an air of disinterest as he checked his mirrors. Then he glanced over at James, with a nod, he let out a long sigh. “Please could you belt up, Sir.”   

        

“What! Oh sorry, yes, of course,” James snapped the belt together with a satisfying clunk.  

The driver pacified, gave a sharp nod, readjusted his rear view mirror, and then gave a final check to the road behind before joining the early morning traffic.

James leant back in his seat, hoping for a comfortable ride. He didn’t want to think about the task ahead, when he had plenty of other things that needed doing. He stared out of the window, enjoying the sight of people rushing about in the busy cityscape. He knew the first part of the journey would be slow. Too many traffic lights and dawdling cyclists caught up in the morning rush hour, but at least it gave him the chance to enjoy the architecture when under normal circumstances it flashed past. 

As the cityscape faded making way for a more rural setting, he gave a snort, soon losing interest in his surroundings.

In the silence of the van’s cab, he glanced over at the driver who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

James normally used to the busyness of an office was unable to cope with the silence, and felt the need to shatter the peace.

Read more: 

Timothy and Pandora’s Box by Dawn Knox

Alice poked her finger through the hole in the tablecloth and wiggled it. 

“The moths in this house must have teeth like rats.” 

Her friend Margery, who was sitting next to the fire, looked up from her knitting, “It probably was a rat. I told you when you put it away you ought to wash it first. Vermin are attracted to food—“ 

“Well, thank you for stating the obvious! And may I remind you, the washing machine isn’t padlocked. You could get up off your rather considerable backside and use it yourself. I don’t know why I have to do everything round here!”

“Oh dear,” said Margery, “someone’s a crosspatch this afternoon.”

“Crosspatch indeed! And if I am, I have good reason! It makes my hackles boil to think I’ve got to put up with the little monster and his wife all evening. And feed them both.”

“Blood, dear. Blood boils… hackles rise. You’ve mixed your metaphors.”

“Rubbish! You can’t boil blood.”

“No, dear. Well, I get your drift, but calling him a monster? That’s a bit harsh. He’s your only nephew, and to be fair, you haven’t gone to a lot of trouble. Tinned soup to start, tinned meat stew for the main course followed by tinned sponge pudding. Not an ambitious menu. It hardly tested your imagination or your culinary skills. The only challenge was to the tin opener.”

“I’ll have you know the rather considerable squeezing and twisting involved in opening all those tins played havoc with the arthritis in my wrists.” 

Read more: