Tag Archives: #writerslife

Glimmers

Yesterday I had the privilege of leading a poetry workshop for a local sixth form. It was a joy. A nerve-wracking joy, but a joy nonetheless. In a previous life I worked as a tutor for a major optical retailer and one of my favourite things was reaching what I think of as the “aha” moment – the point when I see a light go on and feel that the group is onboard with me, and what I’m saying.

Poetry is a bridge between two people

Forty-five minutes isn’t long to create an atmosphere of excitement around poetry, but by the end of the session I received comments like “it’s easier than I thought” which is exactly what I set out to do. Poetry is given a mystique that I believe serves as a barrier. It’s a whirl of baffling terms, secret tricks and general otherness that can have the effect of making people consider that poetry is “not for them”. It’s a real sadness. I began yesterday’s session with an extract from this this interview with

‘Poetry and language, to me, is the DNA of our personhood. Ultimately for me, writing is a bridge between two people, a bridge made of language. And language belongs to all of us. If I enjoy a poem, that means I am recognizing within it something of myself, something I must already possess”

Ocean Vuong in the PBS Summer Bulletin

Ocean Vuong “Poetry is a bridge between two people”. By creating roadblocks to this bridge, people miss out on one of the most ancient forms of communication and connection.

Now, you may be about to misunderstand. I’m not saying there is no place for such delightful terms as trochee, amphibrach or kyrielle. Far from it – understanding and exploring these terms is a way in to experimentation and creation. What I challenge is whether understanding these terms is essential to connect with poetry. The academisation of the arts keeps those of us without the necessary cash or education firmly in our place and puts people off trying to break in to a world that seems to be nothing but barriers.

There are wonderful ways in. Literary magazines are, by and large, incredibly inclusive. Publishers actively highlight their desire to receive submissions from underrepresented groups. The sadness is that without a spark of joy and possibility, many people dismiss the very idea that they can write, much less consider that they should as a means of managing mental health and expressing emotion.

“Poetry creates avenues for self-expression that cannot be felt through other means of communication. This in itself can be a healing and restorative process, a self-guided therapy that allows us to strengthen our mental health and connection to ourselves, and to those around us.” DH Xiang

Creating access to poetry, demystifying it and offering a way in to this most fundamental act of self-expression is something that I realise means a huge amount to me. Reading and writing in general, and poetry in particular is a lifeline to me and an anchor in the darkest times. Knowing that I’ve given a glimmer of an idea that poetry is for everyone and knowing that even a few of the students I had the privilege of working with yesterday gained something from our all too brief session has inspired and renewed my enthusiasm and perhaps diluted the ever-present imposter syndrome. I’m building plans to expand my workshop offering, taking advantage of the gorgeous woods nearby and creating space to explore nature and language. The fact that glimmers of sunlight are illuminating the hazel catkins I see from my desk can only be a sign.

Poetry as priority

My week has seen the end of the wonderful Nine Arches Press Kickstart your writing course – and what a wonderful end it was. I adore Tania Hershman’s work, and spending two hours exploring the brilliance of brevity in poetry was nothing short of magical. I have a renewed vigour for my own work, and the power of cutting back. Perhaps it’s the gardener in me, but I am ever more enthusiastic about pruning my poems. Roses bloom on new growth and perhaps by cutting a few straggly stems I can let the reader in and let the essence of the poem bloom.

The combination of Tania’s workshop with Spelt Magazine’s Dawn Chorus week has meant that I have enjoyed an especially creative week. The Dawn Chorus is such a simple, effective idea. Writing together, with one of Wendy Pratt’s gently brilliant prompts to get us started, it’s a way of enhancing my discipline of rising early to write. It couldn’t have happened at a better time. Learning that yet another of my copywriting clients is reducing their commission volume has placed me in a mind that poetry, flash fiction, short fiction needs to be put at the forefront of my days. I won’t deny I’m trying to Pollyanna my way out of worry by seeing this recent reduction in conventional work as a “solution opportunity” (don’t you love management speak). I’ve long been perturbed by the fact that I place “my” writing is very much last on the list – now the decision has been made for me. I’m hoping this downturn will be short, but for now I’m going to embrace the extra time I have and create beautiful work that is indeed a bridge between two people.

Thank you for reading!

Until next time,

Kathryn

Source: Xiang DH, Yi AM. A Look Back and a Path Forward: Poetry’s Healing Power during the Pandemic.

Advertisement

Soothing an introverted soul

I’ve had a little holiday this week. I’ve been to very few places, talked to very few people and existed in a quiet calm I’ve not enjoyed for months. Being introverted is doesn’t mean I don’t like people, parties and the general bonhomie of a crowd. It means that too much bonhomie is exhausting. It’s not always easy to find time to be alone, and when I’ve over-peopled, it’s really hard to wind down. A few days alone at home has restored and rejuvenated and given me time to reset a little.

I’ve also had more time to play with because of a downturn in my content writing work. I really miss the rhythm of it and hope things will pick up soon. One of my goals for the week was to apply for five new jobs, and as part of my application I realised I really love the idea that my words are helping a business succeed. I take so much pride in what I do, and whilst it’s not always  the most glamorous of roles, it’s something that brings structure and calm to my week.

I love this view from my window

So what have else I done with my few days of introvert solace? Another goal was to submit five poems for consideration by lit journals. My focus on Dust meant I submitted very little last year and I feel I need to get myself back into the scene a little. One of the side benefits of exploring potential publication opportunities is that it means I read a huge amount of new poetry, which informs and inspires my own work.

Creative focus

I have a poem about murmuration (it’s hard to find a poet who doesn’t) and I’ve been looking for images to use alongside the words. It’s taken a while to identify the right ones, but the wonder that is Andrew Fusek Peters has kindly agreed to allow me to work with his fabulous photographs taken at nearby Cheswardine. I’m thrilled.

Poetry film seems to nudge something awake for me. I enjoy the fact that I can create something similar to a cut up or blackout poem, using the combination of image and language to shift emphasis. I’m very new to it and the treasure that is imposter syndrome creeps in of course, but the excitement I feel at building layering each element outweighs these nerves.

Endings and beginnings

This weekend sees the end of my exhibition with Maggie Cameron. It’s fantastic that what started as a fun thing to do each morning has become something that we’re both proud of. My only regret is that I didn’t read at the launch (for exceptionally good reasons). We are planning to create a book that will include poems and images that weren’t part of the exhibition and my goal is to read for that.

My final goal for the week was to spend some time reviewing and editing what I hope will be my next pamphlet. I have a month of mentoring with Wendy Pratt in April, and I’m keen to nail down both the theme of the pamphlet and the poems that fit. My problem is that a lot of the work drifts in and out of my three major themes and I’m in a place of ridiculous indecision. My desk is flurry of A5 sheets with ever-shifting homes. At least i know what next week’s goal is…

Restoration not renovation

This week has been invaluable for me. As many of you know, M.E. means I have limited useful hours in each day and careful planning is needed to get any tasks done. I’m coming up to my 10 year anniversary of being ill (party hats at the ready…) and I’m proud of the way I’ve learned to live with my health. The relentless search for a cure has ceased and I focus my efforts on living the best way I can within my limitations. Having time to focus on creativity, and on myself means a sense of reconnecting. It’s the kind of feeling I always get on holiday and to have been able to find it in my own four walls is wonderful.

Thank you for reading,

Until next time

Kathryn

xx

A belated New Year post and news of an exhibition

New Year is somewhat delayed for me. As many of you know my Dad died over Christmas and the busyness of handling his affairs, supporting mom and the general work of grief has taken up much of my time. Writing has been present as a comfort and means of clarifying emotion, but other than that has taken a back seat.

An exhibition of poetry and pictures in Café 86’d Ironbridge

This doesn’t mean nothing has happened. Thanks to my talented, kind friends and neighbours Maggie Cameron and Lee Proudfoot, our collaborative exhibition of poetry and pictures is able to go ahead. We’re exhibiting our Inktober work in a fabulous local café 86’d in Ironbridge. The exhibition starts next weekend and will run for the month of February. It’s a chance to see Maggie’s stunning work, read some bird inspired poems and eat some of the best vegetarian and vegan food in Shropshire. You’ll be able to buy postcards of the work too.

A new poetry project

I’ve also begun plans for my next collection. After much saving I can finally afford to engage a professional mentor to help me polish my poems and explore the best way to publish them. What was originally an idea for a pamphlet has grown into what I think may be an interesting collection, bringing together key facets of my work under one thread. I’m excited to begin work and look forward to sharing my progress with you.

There’s not a great deal more to say – this is the first day I’ve spent with my work since losing Dad. It will always be bitter sweet – he was very proud (if slightly baffled) by my writing, and everything now comes with the backthought of wishing I could tell him what I’m up to. I’m thankful for all my lovely friends and fellow poets for their support in so many ways.

Much love and thank you for reading

Kathryn xx

A new poetry film and other thoughts

I’ve spent my morning creating a poetry film. It uses a piece I wrote about twelve months ago. based on the charming tale of the tiny owl found in the Rockefeller Christmas tree. The original poem is a “blackout” poem inspired by a transcript of one of the many news reports at the time and first appeared on the fabulous Sledgehammer Lit earlier this year.

I love blackout poems – the unsaying of things. The contrast between what the brain sees, what it knows and what it thinks it sees is a long-time conundrum and this type of poetry presents a powerful visual vehicle to express this. Transforming it to a film seemed like the logical thing to do and you can watch it here.

I’ve had news of another acceptance this week, for another more experimental poem which will be part of the next issue of Spelt magazine. I’m learning that I know when something is working – there’s a specific unnameable feeling that emerges. I need to listen to it more.

Poetry is a powerful thing. I’m reading Cooking with Marilyn by Angela Readman at the moment. It’s one of those books that stops me in my tracks. Inside the prettiest of blue covers are words that illuminate the realities of living with trauma, as well as illuminating the absurdity of living in the spotlight. It’s clever, tender, heartrending and the kind of poetry I dream of writing.

Which gets me thinking – what is missing in my own work? I think it’s the sense of other. I tend to write very domestic, down to earth stuff, which is fine, I’m often a no-nonsense type of person. My best/favourite work it the work that goes beyond this though – stuff that I read back and almost don’t recognise. Fear of being airy-fairy stops me I think – the old “who does she think she is” – what’s the answer?

The answer, I think is to shift my focus back to the words – I’ve had a taste of publishing and love the thrill of having work accepted. I write to be read, after all. But the temptation is to learn to the test, to try to figure out the current zeitgeist and reach the point where when people ask, “would I know your work” I can shout “yes!” and point at a billboard. And then the magic fades.

 A zeitgeist is just that – something that captures a mood. It can’t be manufactured or pre-empted, not without diluting it’s very point. Popularity comes almost by accident – it’s the result of  a huge amount of hard work of course, but the conflation of moment, time, people, cannot be predicted. Trying to anticipate and pre-create simply reduces the validity and impact of the work itself.

All this sounds like an excuse, and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking “well she would say that wouldn’t she”. Honestly though, this whole business is a pull between longing for success, for publication, for recognition, and longing to immerse myself in words, absorb and bathe in language and pay no mind to the outside world whatsoever. Getting the balance right it what makes a great poet I guess. Until I reach that point, I shall keep reading, writing, gnashing my teeth at rejection and being childishly delighted every time a poem is accepted for publication.

Thank you for reading, as always

Kathryn xx

A whistle stop post

It never rains eh? I’m back to work after a very extended birthday break and suddenly swimming in a whole heap of work, which is a wonderful thing, if a little chaotic. I’m having to put poetry on the backburner for a while, but never fear there are plenty of ideas bubbling up between the copywriting sessions.

Having said all that, I desperately want to give a little update on Dust. This weekend marks eight years since we lost my brother. I am avoiding the date, but I know it is sitting there, waiting to poke me. I also feel this is the right date to turn my attention to other projects. There are still a few copies available to buy of course, and I will continue to sell and remind people of it, but the intense marketing is coming to an end. As I’ve said many times, the most effective thing has been people’s social media posts – if anyone feels like giving the book a last shout then that would be fab.

Fundraising for CALM and SOBs

I also wanted to tell you about the charities that we’re supporting. Campaign Against Living Miserably – CALM is a charity that takes decisive action to help prevent suicide. It has a bold style, and offers something a little more direct than other campaigns. This is deliberate I think and seems to fit their brief of offering a space for who need this kind of style to feel safe and able to talk. The site seems designed to appeal to conventional perceptions of masculinity and whilst this jars a little with me, it makes sense. CALM is a way in for people who need to talk. Complexities about gender stereotypes and gender based expectations are certainly part of the problem, but what CALM does is offer an opening for people to talk about their feelings, with a pathway for those to whom talking about feelings doesn’t fit their profile.

They are verbose campaigners and their work draws attention to fact that 125 lives are lost to suicide each week and  75% of  those lives are men. Fathers, sons, friends and brothers. CALM talks in a different way than I do, but their message and methodology is clear and effective.

What does a donation to CALM do?

CALM spends over 80% of it’s money of delivering direct help. Call answering, webchats, community engagement and continual campaigning to create conversations and make positive change. The remainder goes to things that keep the charity running, and to continual fundraising. Answering a call costs £8, so when you buy a copy of Dust, you’re actively helping save someone’s life

Survivors of Bereavement by Suicide

This charity is a personal one. The moments, days after my brother’s death were bewildering – yet I still had to be strong. It’s hard to lose a sibling – suddenly you’re it. The only hope, the only support and whilst only children live with this all their lives, to have the family dynamic shattered, and to be left to gather it back together is , well it’s just awful.

And then we throw suicide into the mix. All the whys, what ifs, how could I…all those things are multiplied and overwhelm. SOBs were there. I only had to email (I loathe talking on the phone) and I got simple, calm replies that made me feel understood, and made me feel less alone. My role changed overnight, and the simple, authentic understanding helped me step up.

SOBs is a gentler sort of place than CALM. It suited my communication style and offers a space for people to learn and understand about grief from suicide. They offer support in various ways including face to face groups, telephone, and email.

Our fundraising

So far we have raised over £650 for both these charities, and this figure will continue to grow, albeit at a slower pace. This money makes a difference – it means phone calls can be answered, emails are responded too, support groups exist. It means powerful campaigns like Project 84 can take place to start conversations and deliver the bald facts about how many people find their place in the world so untenable they genuinely believe the world would be better without them. I want this to change.

To buy Dust, follow the link above, or send me an email kathrynannawrites@gmail.com

To continue to support this work, share this article and post your reviews of Dust on Facebook or Instagram

My first poetry film

Oh wow oh wow oh wow

This is never the easiest weekend – it marks the anniversary of the last time I saw my brother before…well, before.

Yesterday I did something I’ve never done about these anniversaries – I reached out on social media. I was on my own this weekend and wanted to tell someone I guess, and also now that Dust is out in the world I feel more able to say these things. Previously it was always such a shock to people I’d end up apologising, half explaining, having to stop…anyone who’s lost anyone knows how these conversations go. I’m glad I did (although I feel a little sheepish) simply because it’s nice to know people care, no more no less.

an image of sunlight though winter trees

That’s not the oh wow moment though. The oh wow has come from discovering a new way to create, and a way that has so much potential I can hardly contain my joy. I set aside this weekend to join a poetry film workshop run by Spelt Nature Writing School and I’m so happy I did. Poetry film is an area that I’ve always been interested in, but in true Kathryn style I’ve always thought “I’ll never be able to do that”. This is the gift of this kind of workshop though; participants ranged from those doing a thesis about poetry film, all the way to people like me who just thought “I’d like to give that a go”. The workshop gave me knowledge, an introduction to the skills I need, and a bit of boost that there are things I understand already, like the language of colour and how to use visuals to enhance a story.

I finished the workshop thinking “I want to do this, but I need xyz” XYZ being a bit of equipment, a bit of time to go out and film stuff. I couldn’t get the ideas out of my head though and got up with the lark this morning to “just have a go”. And do you know what? I’m pleased with what I’ve done. I’ve recorded the title poem of Dust, and worked with some abstract stock images to create a short, simple film. I’m pleased with it, and most of all I’m pleased to have a way to read my work aloud. I’m not comfortable speaking to camera (I’m working on it!) and this is a way that just feels more like me. Baby steps of course, but I’m thrilled to have a new way to explore and express my work.

So a weekend that began with a little sadness has ended with a little peace. These are hard poems to read aloud. But they are important, the difference they can make is important and the money we are raising it important. I wish I knew nothing of this – as everyone does when faced with pain, but all we do is find a way to cope – and I guess this is one of mine.

Thank you all

You can find out more about the story of Dust here and if you’d like to buy a copy, the simplest way is to email kathrynannawrites@gmail.com

And so we writers keep going

Inner critic. Inner cricket. Which would be worse? One spends its time pulling apart each morsel of effort, one, I imagine, spends its time attempting to fell stumps and win points.

So much work is disregarded because I think it is trite, obvious, too simple. Yet I read prize winning pieces that seem to me to be just that. They’re not, of course. They are simply speaking truth in a way that is easy to understand. Being oblique is one of my worst habits as a writer (and possibly as a person) I like to create a puzzle, a riddle because for me the worst thing is to be thought to be too obvious.

And why is this the case? Well, I think it comes down to our old friend imposter syndrome. I still don’t think I’m good enough, definitely don’t think I belong and constantly feel I have to prove my worth. And I do this by swerving the obvious, clouding the true emotion. I’m not sure if this is helpful, hindrance, my style or just an annoying quirk. What I am sure of is that the constant placing of one’s emotions on a page means constantly placing myself in a place of vulnerability which, for someone who is constantly alert to attack, seems a little foolish.

I began this post a week or two ago. Maybe it was the moon causing me to feel so blue. Maybe it was the up and down of self-publicity. Maybe it’s just a bit hard to be sometimes.

I feel less vulnerable today – positive feedback, a new project, a way forward and determination all play their part. Kind words are the greatest gift though and I do so appreciate them – both public and private, the value of someone taking the time to say to me “I read your work and I like what you do” is enormous.

Monday saw the opportunity to take part in a workshop about building a poetry pamphlet. It’s ostensibly for people seeking to enter this year’s pamphlet competition from Mslexia. I’m no where near ready to enter but nonetheless it gave me a raft of useful tips to help me create a pamphlet “where every poem earns its place”. No mean feat to be honest but I feel I have some clear direction – I’ve also got a title which is a huge step forward.

As well as looking at my wider body of work, and what to do with it all, I’ve spent the last couple of weeks working on poems inspired my neighbour and friend Maggie Cameron. Maggie’s an incredibly skilled artist, and each year she produces wonderful images for Inktober. In an effort to maintain my morning writing practice, started as part of the Dawn Chorus writing group, I’ve logged on to see Maggie’s latest image each day. She does them before she heads to her day job as head of art – I write before starting my day job in copywriting. I find this incredibly pleasing somehow – genuine creativity for the joy or creating.

Maggie has adapted the prompts this year to create a series about birds which is a real joy – I write a lot about birds (I think they’re second only to the moon in terms of poet inspiration) and I’ve had so much fun writing these pieces each morning.

It’s interesting the different directions  each image has taken me. Some have been purely about the bird – a rage on climate change or the foolishness of humans – others have sparked a deeper response, calling to mind mothering, loss, or freedom. Most of all I’ve enjoyed simply writing for writing’s sake. It’s been a while.

You can read my Inktober poems here and you can buy Maggie’s beautiful work in her Etsy shop

Autumn sees a return to writing

I had an interesting conversation with a friend this week, asking if writing about trauma is cathartic. My answer was not really. Now this is surprising, because of course it is – the very act of writing means I remove worries, thoughts, feelings from my head and place them on a page. That is a good thing. It can allow perspective, allow for reflection. Journalling is a healthy habit. Why is poetry any different? For me it’s because a poem is almost a living entity. It grows and changes with those who read it, it grows and changes each time I read it. The emotions that gave birth to the writing have not gone – they’ve become real on the page. Producing something wrought from some of the darkest feelings and experiences then reading, re-reading, editing, means revisiting those feelings and experiences time and time again.  And that’s before I even embark on the terror of sending my work out to be judged for quality and possible publication.

Yet still I do it. Still countless people do it. We write and read, agonise over semi-colons and commas, place ourselves into the arena to be pulled apart or raised up high. Why? What drives me? I honestly can’t think of a sensible answer. All I know is that when I write there is some magic that happens somewhere that makes me feel as though I am the very best version of myself. I’d like to say I don’t mind whether work is published or not but that would be a straight lie – external validation is a joy. Would I write if I knew my work would never be published again. Absolutely. Would I write if no one else would read it. I think so – but some of that joy of connection would be lost.

Two new poetry courses

These musings have emerged because I’ve had a stellar writing week. Not one, but two courses on the go and I’ve adored them both. Dawn Chorus writing hour has been a revelation – that liminal space between waking and sleeping allows my brain to flow in such different directions and the simple act of setting aside time to write with others creates a gentle community. Getting up early to write is a habit I dip in and out of, but the difference to both my writing and general well being is such that I’m determined to keep that 5.30 am start and determined to protect an hour for reading and writing.

My second course, The Corn Dolly Speaks has been a journey through myth and legend, not tales of knights and dragons, but the tangible, domestic legends that are so much part of life they pass with scant comment. The poems we’ve read have been beautiful and challenging, and the prompts have set me on research adventures. The work I’ve written has grown from some innate understanding and sense of connection I cannot really name. It’s an affirming way to explore the correlation between past and present, and to explore how these old rituals inform my behaviour and perspective. What makes these courses work so well for me is that we share our work with each other online. I’m not terribly confident speaking as part of a group, so this gentle interaction means I can give and receive feedback in a non-threatening way, and at my own pace. It also means I read some incredible poetry from my talented course mates. I’ve tried a couple of different courses this year, but the work I produce from these courses created and facilitated by Wendy Pratt is far and away the work I feel most pleased with.

It seems that the act of finishing Dust has set me free to write again. In order to create something worthy of publication, and worthy of people’s hard-earned money I had to distance myself from my emotions and look at the work with a professional, critical eye. In the wonder that is hindsight it seems entirely logical, but in the midst of the process I’ve felt quite bewildered at my inability to really engage with writing. I’m very glad to be back.

More ways to buy Dust

Now the initial flurry of family and friends have bought Dust, I’ve placed it on Etsy for general sale. Buying direct from me is still the best option, simply because it means more money for the two charities, but I understand that using something like Etsy is a lot easier. You can also buy your copy from the excellent Poetry Pharmacy or Ironbridge Bookshop.

Your mini reviews have made a huge difference

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time and effort to talk about their response to Dust on Facebook and Instagram. This kind of marketing is worth a thousand posts from me (I guess hearing about something like this from a friend has more impact) and has been the most effective in terms of sales. It also increases my visibility, so when I do post, more folk will see it. Your support is really, really appreciated and the steady rate of sales means we’ve raised over £600 so far.

So that’s my week. Next week’s adventures in poetry will involve is more research into submissions opportunities, plus some time studying The Poetry Writers’ Handbook, which looks like it will answer a lot of my questions about the business side of publication – I have a couple of new pamphlets brewing so the timing is perfect.

Thank you for reading

Kathryn xx

How to write a book

Steven King famously answers this question with “one word after another” . It’s something that’s both simple and hideously complicated, joyful and soul wrenching. This time last week I was glum. Bereft, full of regret at trying, at sending my heart out to the world to be read and responded to.

A wise friend then responded, with simple physiology – perhaps I was in an adrenaline dip, after the push of publication, the rivers of courage it had taken to reach this point. And of course she was right. It meant a lot to read such an intelligent, caring message, and meant a lot to feel heard.

Dust is on another part of its journey today – I’m taken copies to two fabulous bookshops – The Poetry Pharmacy in Bishop’s Castle, and Ironbridge Bookshop down the road in Ironbridge. It’s very exciting and I’m thrilled at the prospect of seeing my books on a real life bookshelf. The good news is that booksellers are kind, friendly people who understand those of us who aren’t quite so peopley. I came away from my visits feeling valued. And I even signed my first book.

As these things so often go, this week has been more positive. So many people have got in touch to describe what my words, and Saffron’s images, have meant to them. I write to connect with others and goodness, this book has connected. I feel less afraid, and less foolish this week. Turns out for me the thing I need to write is a little encouragement, a little positivity sent my way.

I am dipping my toes back in to the world of submissions and gathering my work together in earnest. I was of a mind that I’d written nothing this year (never let it be said I’m over dramatic). I’ve sat this morning with my notebook. So many poems. Some decent. One about a seagull covered in turmeric. One about a macaw in a hat. And that’s just from one course taken at the very start of the year. There have been poems this year. I have just forgotten them.

And of course, this is the reality. The work of poetry takes time. Writing is the easy (!) bit. Redrafting, researching publishers, understanding threads and themes – that’s the tough bit. I have about four hours a week to spend on poetry things, and for the last six months those four hours have been devoted to all things Dust. Which may be why I feel I’ve “done nothing” this year.

As another voice of wisdom said, Dust has been a side quest (and a very worthwhile one), now I’m ready to get back to the main adventure, with a clutch of amulets to strengthen me.

Wish me luck , and thank you

Kathryn

Dust is here!

After a very exciting journey involving van fires, reprints, and the nuances of delivering in an area that’s known for its higgledy piggledy roads a parcel of beautiful books has arrived.

Now the hard work begins – selling. I have very little experience (i.e., none) of marketing a book. I read them, write them, buy them, pile them in a corner full of good intentions…but marketing is another sphere entirely. There’s lots of places to research of course, but  as with most internet things, there’s a hefty number of sites that just want to sell you their guide  “how to sell all your books in five minutes” or “the only five marketing tools you need”. So, what to do?

When I buy a book, I’m buying a part of the person. Which is less creepy than it sounds – I’m buying what they want to say, what they feel the world needs to hear. Now, flipping this to apply to myself doesn’t sit well – modesty, imposter syndrome, all the things we’re taught about pride pile up – but this is what I must do.  And this is probably why people have marketing teams. No matter. It’s time for yet another round of deep breaths, drawing up tall and putting myself on the line.

Starting from early September you can look forward to readings from Dust, details of what we’ve raised so far, mini reviews from my fabulous Crowdfunders and anything else I can think of to generate interest. We’re at a point where all the big expenses have been paid, so bar bookshop commission and postage everything from here on in is adding to our total.

This has been a long journey, and one that I’m kind of glad is reaching an end. I’ve loved working with Saffron – it’s felt like a real collaboration. I’ve been bowled over by the support and interest everyone has shown, and I’ve really appreciated the support shown by so many people. I feel we’ve achieved our goal of creating something beautiful from sadness, and I hope you feel the same.

Copies will be going out to Crowdfunders over the next couple of weeks and will be available in The Poetry Pharmacy and Ironbridge Bookshop towards the end of September. If’ you’d like to buy from me just click the button, and if you don’t fancy buying then every interaction with any social media gubbins will help generate visibility and sales from others.

Buy Dust here

Thank you, as ever

Kathryn xx