Publishing a Second Edition

Well, the second edition of the Porlock novel has been sent off to the printers at last and it's too late to change any errors now... Decisions, decisions. The first cover was rather too dark and emphasized the sci fi aspect, so the second by contrast is probably too pale, but at least concentrates on the historical side - which is the main thing. But I'll almost certainly quarrel with it once the boxes of books arrive.

   It's a queer business publishing a book. One always imagines in the abstract that of course you'll have time to proof read it the requisite three times, not just the once over an intense and irritable fortnight. You think that of course you'll print out the cover to see how it looks BEFORE sending it off to the printers. You believe in good faith that the second edition will have no typos. Forget it. Unless you only have one job (rare in the arts at the moment, seemingly!) and have the time management skills recommended by 'life coaches', there'll be one proof read. If you haven't the experience yourself of doing that and done it for other people, then it's best to try and cajole/coax/pay someone else to do it. Even if you are good at it, and don't farm it out, it's extremely unlikely that one proof will pick up everything, and even if the typos aren't there, there'll be spacing issues leftover from transferring the document from Word to PDF, and changing the size from A4 or 5 to a standard book size like 132 x 197. Of course it would be great to actually have time to go through the first edition and make all the changes you'd like before the second one...well yes it would, if you hadn't been so busy selling the first one and doing all your other jobs from writing workshop host or assistant willow workshop host to dealing with festivals and... Printing the cover out to see what it looked like would have been great, and of course you will next time...except that the printer doesn't do 132 x 197, or at least not without throwing a tantrum which you really can't face at this stage. Not with a newsletter to edit and... You get the picture? In reality the second cover may well be as 'too something-or-other' as the first, and by the third print run, you may actually have had time to do another proof...hopefully. Because being your own proof reader, editor, page layout designer, typesetter, promoter, marketer, copywriter, rep, bookseller, and having at least two other jobs is always going to get in the way. As for a book that you know perfectly well has typos - surely it's too much for a perfectionist to bear? Not if you're paying for the corrections and are quoted a ludicrous price, and then only quoted five pence a page when it's far too late... - no one's yet minded if they've noticed, and anyway it's imperative to have stock to sell at an imminent event - getting it done vs. perfection? The choice isn't hard at that point. Especially not when one thinks of all the things that never got done because they couldn't be or would take too much time to be, perfect. It's a recipe to cripple an art, a job, or even a life. Of course you should always do everything the best it can be, but if no one's going to notice except yourself, and it's between getting something done or not doing it...No contest.

   It's obvious why folks publish their own work and set up their own companies in an overcrowded market filled with ghost written 'celeb biographies'. But what's also plain are that the roles which publishers and agents do execute take time and effort. And if you'd 'rather spend the time writing', then firstly, don't expect to get published this side of doomsday unless you send out two MS.s a day, and secondly - you never know, the many other tasks involved might end up teaching you a whole load of new skills, and there might even be some fun in amongst the hard work. What's more, you'll be doing something you believe in. Does that have a price?  

Storyclub Upstairs at the Globe

October's Storyclub upstairs at the Globe is coming up, as well as a meeting of The Vibe - all arts network forum informal group, National Poetry Day and a couple of things so important to get done that they make you want to write a blog instead...but it's September's Storyclub I'm still remembering... As well as the very wonderful Tyburn Jig Theatre, of Dave Oliver and Jon Freeman who run - brilliantly - the Storyclub (and us regulars Widsith and Deor) there was the matchless Clive PiG the Storyfella. What a treat. Well first of all we all met up downstairs and caught up on what sort of summer season each of us had had, swapping tales of rain and shine, festivals, charming and crazy audiences... (I must admit to feeling like 'one of the big boys' when at a gathering of Dave, Jon, Clive, and also when Michael Dacre of the splendid Raventales turns up! - incidentally all hosts or former hosts of storyclubs.) And then the five of us went upstairs to tell our other tales. Last to arrive amongst the storytelling fraternity was David Heathfield, who does a lot of work in colleges and educational settings as well as at other events. The audience began arriving and carried on until it was a respectable size and the festivities began. Dave and Jon are always excellent, but often perform separately. This time however, they did turns together, and some chemistry was in the offing, which I was delighted to see. Dave is entrancing as a solo performer, but when he was (and from time to time still is) in the Guild of Fabulists with Clive, they have an incredible team chemistry which is always a pleasure to watch and hear, and worth paying good money to see, with each taking up the other's jokes, and the one doing the narration and the other the 'special effects', i.e. creaky doors, floors, weird noises and unexpected eerie voices! Dave and Jon had a different chemistry, and it was great to hear them working with the same story. There's a lovely feeling attendant on a storyteller's changeover, that isn't there in straight theatre, because the lines are learnt in the latter. In storytelling on the other hand, most of the time the cues are flexible, polished improvisation, even spontaneous, and always changing, so there's a trust involved that you don't get in other kinds of performance. Not like watching a trapeze catch exactly, but...! Jon brings more and more offbeat quirk to his tales, and you can tell Dave has worked in television. When Clive took the floor, it was with one about creepy 'Uncle Wolf' and a greedy kid who ate the pancakes intended for the said Uncle...He moved about the space and did the characters so completely 'in character', as well as the special effects of Uncle Wolf trying to get into the house, that at times it was like watching a one person film. He cranked up the suspense till we were on the edge of our seats, until finally and unexpectedly - the greedy boy got eaten by his hard done by if sinister Uncle! David Heathfield delivered his tales professionally with his customary mixture of fireside engagingness and quietly emphatic meaning, with flair and polish. We ourselves did two of our current favourites, including 'Lady Mary', a variation on Bluebeard and not a story I would have warmed to, except I liked our take on it (which evolved out of one choosing it and the other making suggestions until it became a duologue). Mixing grim horror with laugh out loud comedy. It was brilliant to shoot it past such a professional audience, as you know if they laugh, you've got the thing right! And we'll be doing that tale in our coming Autumn Festival Show 'Goblins and Ghouls, Fairies and Fools' (check out the Collective's website if interested - W&D link then Diary or New Show). Needless to say, in our version, Lady Mary gets the best of it... We all did two tales, and after the stories were finished, the rewarding audience stayed on - until we all told jokes and short tales until finally being ousted at closing time...What a great evening. One of the best nights out - and that's born out by friends I've brought along - in the city, and still only £3 for listeners, and free for tellers. Huge thanks to Clive for running the Big Potato as was, Michael of Raventales for running the Storyclub at the Globe, and Jon and Dave for taking it over a while back - and all of them for being such inspirational storytellers, and being responsible for so many cracking nights out!

Sunrise OffGrid and Beautiful Days

I was beginning to think it couldn't possibly all come off...having been booked without much notice by one festival, and with very little notice by another - how would it all work out? In the end, twelve of us all told went - six each to the Sunrise OffGrid and Beautiful Days Festivals. Seven members of the Collective, a FreePlay allied artist, two family members and two who were getting their van converted by Wayne live during the OffGrid! Mel and Wayne went down on the Tuesday, Andi, Mandy, Liz and us storytellers met at the station before we waved off the other three, plus kids, off to the Beautiful Days to meet up with Lewis (of the legendary Bicton art course), as it happens, the one bestowed my ticket when I decided that being booked for six hours storytelling and leaving only one member of the company to perform it all on their own, wasn't on! And then off we went to the OffGrid, to meet with the others, including Andrew and Anya, the couple having their van transformed. 

   All of Thursday and Friday, I was worrying about how those who had only just met would get along with one another, at the other festival. It's all very well to be recommended artists by those whom one holds in high regard, and all very well to have met and enlisted new people in different regions, but to pack off three sets of different artists to a festival who've not met! Two from N.Devon had only my say so, that the Penzance member was gifted and good company, she likewise only had our assurances that the family were charming and excellent, and I had to have faith that the person who had my ticket - recommended by Andi - would get on with everyone else... Would the Collective survive packing off a group of strangers who hadn't all lived together at some point (as the original eight members had done at different times and combinations) to a festival for four days? 

   We ourselves girded our loins for the six hours of storytelling (having been programmed as entertainers, not as full on theatre, so doubting they realized what a punishing schedule it would have been for only one performer!), and Wayne had already begun stripping out the removal van by the time we arrived, and the Pavilion was already resplendent, as was a Vantastic (Wayne's company name) awning and signage, with the flyers we'd done on display. And it went brilliantly - people were in and out of the van and show van from dawn till dusk, admiring, asking questions, seeking advice, taking flyers, from time to time a concrete booking for a van conversion, customization or specialist welding commission... On Saturday Mel did a den building workshop all day, and in no time part of a field was covered in what looked like a mini tipi enclosure, with kids and adults making rag bunting to hang between them, and even using it as a chill out zone once the workshop was over. Our own marquee was pretty packed from time to time, and we shouted against festival noise and loud music. (A mic is a rare commodity at smaller festivals!) By the end of day two we were hoarse enough to gratefully accept some honey from Mel for the throat.  

   On Saturday I texted Liz to check how things were going at their end...- Yes! a reply came swiftly; they were workshopping to packed marquees and having great fun, with a good slot giving them all decent time off! Was I relieved?? That evening I could relax at last, going to see the fire dancers - eight in one performance space! and all different. And then did the usual round of venues and attractions, hypnotized by trancey dance in the dance dome. Classic moments included once the van was finished, with LED kitchen lighting, cupboards, the works, including space for Andrew's - a musician as well as having a first in Renewal Energy - harmonium, a marvellous bellows-powered piano like keyboard with a sound like a small organ! He played it at the end of Sunday, and it sounded simply magical...

   On Monday we returned to HQ, followed later in the day by Mel and Wayne, then Andi, Mandy, and Liz. And what a gathering, we all greeted, swapped stories of workshops and performances delivered and feedback gained, congratulated each other for getting everything done so well, and generally caught up on each one's perspective of both festivals, everyone talking to at least two people at once. There was a lovely atmosphere, and after all the seemingly endless hard work of ringing festivals, and filling in form after form, negotiating everything from money to meals, and issuing everyone with flyers for the Collective, and all the rest, it made it all seem worth the effort and hassle, and I couldn't help being moved. Especially when everyone gave everyone a hug on parting, even those that had only known one another for four days. One's faith in feeling that even quite different artists, once one knew they were gifted, and felt them to be really pleasant people, would hopefully be able to work together! was justified on this occasion. No common pleasure. 

   The Beautiful Dayers as we had come to call them, also came bearing recycled gifts - swathes of gold and silver big thick card from the end of the festival, and no less than fifteen metres of crimson fabric that I could think of three uses for at once! A fine prize. And Andi said they had been been called 'the best thing for kids there' - to which I replied 'That's what I like to hear!' - their leather and poi and textile workshops and decorated spaces had flown the Collective flag proud!

  Big thanks to Lewis to stepping into the breach, Rosie of the kid's field, Helen for having patience with the sudden change of line up, and of course to the wonderful other members of the Collective, Wayne and Mel for doing a great job, Andi for organizing his part so well, Mandy for being a peach, Liz for being so game, and the support crews! Sam and Alex, Andrew and Anya. Well done everyone!

   It's so nice with all the uncertainty about Spoken/Written and delays in the forthcoming books by Cartwheels Collective Publishing and other stresses, to have ended the summer season's gigs on such a high. 

Play Day Mayhem

   What a week - having got back from London on Sunday night, two Collective Cornish members turned up for dinner the next day, unexpectedly (first inkling was a call - 'Are you there?' 'Er...' 'Because I'm here' 'You mean...?') we talked of festival stuff, planned for the Play Day booking, caught up with each other. The next day more members (from N.Devon) turned up for dinner (planned this time) to talk festival workshops and be shown what the leather workshops involved. Eight guests all told plus a visitor - it's been a while since HQ was so full! It was good to sit and all be making things sitting on the floor of the Studio - reminded me of earlier days in the Collective when Sonia (now in NZ) used to sit us down and show us new skills. But it was hectic, having so much to communicate, arrange, sort out, a form to fill (of course), and skills to share, and socializing, all in a short space of time. Intensive is the best word for it all. 

   Then up early the next day for one of my not exactly favourite gigs of the year - a packed family fun day for National Play Day. I had nightmare memories of crowds of children all asking to be tied knots for, refusing point blank even to attempt to plait the simplest of plaits, the Pavilion heaving with people, trying to entertain the queue, and all the while trying to convince workshoppers that knots and plaits were some of mankind's oldest and most basic skills...as easy as they were important. 

   This time, as before, it threatened rain, and the road 'liable to fog' as it says on the sign was beautiful - full of shifting cloud and low mist as we travelled through the veils and the smoky drifting dreamscape of half-seen hills. We got there, put up the Pavilion, got out the willow and fabric, and before you could finish setting up, people started arriving. Like last time, it got warmer and less damp until the sun came out and it was hot, humid and then blue sky. And like last time, the workshops were extremely popular, the Pavilion varying between busy, crowded and heaving with people. There was a large heap of cut fabric, but I'd also brought some from the Collective storeroom as Wayne had said that more would be good. And I was glad I had! As pale pink/white netting was all the rage, and I seemed to spend hours just cutting the stuff into strips, and as fast as it was cut, it disappeared, as countless children only wanted pink/white netting...I cut and cut, sometimes made a small pile of strips, but always they came, and more asked for it, at times faster than I could cut them almost, and still the hordes streamed in...I glanced up from time to time, and saw fellow workshop hosts showing kids how to make wings or swords, bows, arrows, magic wands, making hoops, kids deciding they wanted to make something else, one a door! from willow... Some lovely wings were made as ever, a couple of striking swords and a huge bow... One child asked me - as the fabric I was cutting flowed on for metres, snaking across the ground, when I would finish? i.e., how long would it take to cut it all up? I replied that I was only cutting up what people needed, and had no intention of turning it all into ribbons in an afternoon! but it made me think of impossible tasks from old tales, like the king who made some hapless subject gather all the down feathers from a punctured feather pillow before they could leave the tower...! Time seemed to slow down, and every time we glanced at our watches, it was an hour earlier than we had thought, and the mess grew and grew, as of hosts that had invited a whole town to dinner, and the guests had started with throwing the food around, and then progressed to walking off with the furniture...by which I mean that bits of fabric and broken withy carpeted the grass, and adults came and helped themselves to three pre-made sets of wings in one go, to decorate them at home for their children (which wasn't quite the idea!). 

   I suggested people could make headdresses, crowns, and mobiles too, and made hoops and decorated one as a mobile-cum-headdress and hung it up, to illustrate what else one could do with the materials, and when children, boys and girls alike saw that, a number chose to make those, which made me glad. Having had no or little confidence with visual art or craft as a child or for a long time (indeed, up until what still feels like comparatively  recently) it's a real thrill when someone wants to own or make something like a thing I have made up myself. Some of the headdresses looked lovely, as workshoppers really got the hang of it, and one or two of the mobiles worked rather well, a splendid crown. Towards the end, the Police popped in (who had been stationed at the Play Day like the First Aid tent) and one requested and wore some fairy wings over her uniform! The organizer also appeared at the end, wearing her wings from last year! in shocking pink and dark purple.

   As we finished, the place looked like the scene of a shipwreck, and the three of us were left to clear up, two of us at least, yawning our heads off. The day went really well - we heard (as we often seem to) that our workshops were 'the best thing there'. I couldn't still help feeling though, that when I started off as a poet, this kind of work was about what I'd had in mind, as much as some literary poet from the 1930's would have had in mind as what they wanted to do...viz not at all. But we all went for a drink on the way back at a pub by the beach, and it was dazzlingly blue and clear and cheering. Once back at base, someone asked how it had gone, and I replied - 'Well, if we're all not flash for cash in early August and aren't double booked next year, I guess we'll all be going again.' To which she replied 'That's the spirit!' which made me laugh. (And all the while knowing I had an important meeting the next morning, and another form to be filled by the morning after that!)

   Yes. And however much it wasn't what I ever had in mind, it did go well. We taught folks new skills, all the workshoppers including the carers/parents/playleaders had a great time, the organizers were so delighted they booked us there and then for next year... And there were some laughs along the way - like Wayne dancing to the music while showing folks how to weave a piece of willow, or my fellow storyteller telling a tale while making some wings, so not doing all of the movements, and telling sitting down! something he never usually does. The enchanted parents, and the pride of those who had made good designs and those who had not realized they could make things...not being able to resist taking photographs when everyone had gone, of the mobile in the wind, as the effect that that kind of fabric makes on film is just remarkable...

   As Hope Clark says - don't just look forward to your longterm ambitions, enjoy the getting there, enjoy the journey! to which I can add - yes, and enjoy the detours along the way too, and all the parallel pathways...

The Grass is Always Greener

You learn something new every day. A platitude yes, but one of the best writer's blogs on the web is Hope Clark's, and she's full of words of wisdom that sound familiar and common sense...but you read them thinking - but how often have I acted on that principle which it is so obvious that I should act upon? But back to the point. I met up, last weekend, being in London for a brief break (!) with a good friend and his partner, a multimedia artist, producer, curator, live artist and video maker. We got talking about art/work related stuff...and only stopped when the clock chimed eleven meaning they had to catch the train home! Apart from being a really interesting artist who's into many live art and related things and artists that we have in common, from the wonderful Merce Cunningham who sadly died this last week, to various theatre companies and allsorts of experimental stuff, she also is 'living a life of art'. Earlier in the year, she and he turned their flat upside down and inside out, shifting all their own stuff out, papering chairs white, you name it, until the entire space was an installation and no longer a living space. Then it was videoed, and put on her website, and people came to view the space as one would an open studio event. She showed me the video and it looked great - one could see what a lot of work it must have been. She also finished a residency recently in Manchester, works for the Live Art Development Agency, is on a mentoring scheme which means she gets to meet folks working for the Royal Opera House and Royal Ballet... I sighed, telling her of my one chance this year to do something really experimental at Richard White's Edge of Chaos (written about on the Performance Ephemera blog), and admitted it was easier to concentrate on things that brought money in like the newsletter, storytelling, and admin for the Collective... To my surprise, she agreed with me, saying she knew just what I meant. It turned out that she didn't especially want to be a producer or curator, organizing exhibits, making snowstorms, or working in set design for a theatre company - in fact, she'd made a decision to try and make a break from it, for the very simple reason that she, as an artist, had not enough time to create her own art while doing that kind of work. And of course that meant sporadic opportunities, eking out previous earnings while waiting and applying for the next thing, and all the insecurity that goes with it. So there was I thinking it must be marvellous to do all this stuff, - set design! curating! wow. But there was she wanting to do more multimedia performance installation and video work...which I understood completely. When I thought about it, it gave me an insight into why people sometimes say - an Editor! wow. Or administrating for an arts Collective! hey. To me, they are things which must be done because writing and performing just don't provide enough consistent incomings.

  But of course, one must be grateful to do something that is at least related to what one most cares about. For instance, working as a willow workshop assistant for National Play Day may not be creating live art theatre, but hey, it pays the bills and I get to work with the other members of the Collective, a really great bunch. As for the Play Day itself...that'll have to be the next blog.............

Festivals and Form Fillings

Festivals are tricky beasts. Earlier on this year I sent off dozens of proposals to, and filled in forms for, various festivals, for the Collective - offering everything from storytelling and leather workshops to willow sculpture, lantern making, fire juggling, and the rest. Some lost it in the pile of applications, some booked acts they'd had for years...you get the picture... and some...waited right until the wire until getting in touch. Meaning that despite four weeks of planning and form filling in January and February, the Collective is double booked over mid August! Wayne, Mel, etc. to the Sunrise Off Grid, - Andi, Mandy, Liz etc. to the Beautiful Days...and me still trying to decide which to be at! We have been at different events over the same weekends many times naturally, but this was a first, as both festivals wanted more than two members, i.e. a group of us over exactly the same four days. And of course after the initial phonecalls, festival organizers are usually so overworked, they want the details of who does what all over again - mercifully a shorter e-mail this time! Although more frantic phonecalls to the newer members as what I don't have is an on tap encyclopedic knowledge of everything they do yet! (As everyone does more than one thing, often quite a few more). And then MORE forms to fill in with everyone's name, registration numbers, meal allocation if appropriate, tent size...

   With two members in NZ and two busy/away, the current twelve members of the Collective are back up to eight active ones - and it's just as well! The fourth ticket for the latest festival: We need to know what all the others are doing to see which of them can make it. A fire dancer, performance poet, artist etc. as they'd like Devon artists by preference? but she's working over those dates... Another of those who was on the Bicton art course who's Devon-based? but he's already got a ticket...and the festival wants the form by Wednesday... All I can say is, thank God three artists joined up and two others came on the scene within the last few months! Four to cover one event, and three of us to cover another... The Collective really has kept on growing despite the absence of two of it's original core members and inspirations. They are of course still valued members, but obviously we're not able to do events together because of a small matter of some thousands of miles! Not that I was worried about the Collective just winding down exactly, but such groups often do have a short shelf life - and we've had our share of things to resolve! where a mixture of money, friendship, couple dynamics, professionalism, work, creativity, who's idea was x?, organization, travel, meals, and all the things too nefarious and various to mention, can and do collide together to make things difficult. 

   That the number of reliable and pleasant artists we find we can work well with and who want to become part of 'it' in some way, is expanding, makes all those bloody forms feel not such a complete grind of time and effort, and all the hassle - including phonecalls every five minutes just as you're on your way to grab six days off! and e-mailing and ringing round arranging stuff when you're actually technically on holiday and all you really want to do is muck around on a piano and do other relaxing stuff...feel not quite so relentless. 

Publishing a Book – Part 2

   Nobody can truly learn from another’s experience in the way that people mean when they say ‘I’ve suffered so you don’t have to’. But by hearing what the person in question has to say, they can, I guess, at least make some kind of judgement. People have asked my advice, or what I think from time to time about writing and publishing a book (or books) as someone that's done so. So here’s a summary. Writing the book is easy. Of course you need to have reasonably mastered a good to excellent standard of spelling, grammar, character, plot, technical or experimental competence. To have an idea, a passion to write, or rather to write actively. And of course to have finished the damn thing. But that part – if you are a writer, i.e. you write because you must – is the simple part. The proof reading, editing, back cover blurb writing, page layout, page numbering, prelims and all the rest is the really dull grinding bit. The printing is the really stressful bit…And the selling is the actual hard work.

   So what does the real hard work that now begins, involve? You ring shops, venues, places that may or should be interested, T.I.s for local interest links, museums if it’s a historical novel; only some are interested, some (overloaded with such enquiries) aren’t even polite! Some will take it, but on terms where you make no profit…You spend the next months delivering books, designing posters, putting them up, handing out flyers, trying to remember to take books with you wherever you go. When the weather’s not too cold or wet and when you’ve time from your other commitments, you hold stalls, make free gifts and give them away, make more signs, outdoor ones this time, put the price up when you realize how little you’re making for the sheer work you’re putting in… You write or e-mail and tell anyone acknowledged in the credits perhaps, for instance thanking them for inspiration – don’t expect a reply! It’s polite to tell them you’ve mentioned them, but well known authors/broadcasters or whoever are notoriously busy, and it could fall by the inbox. A good idea is tell the local rag and write some interesting copy for them – they may well take it. Many say it’s good to have a working relationship with whoever deals with local events news on the said paper regarding any signings and stuff. In my experience though, most of the publicity you’ll have to do yourself, but a mention in the paper does help.

   Next is organizing events at which to promote and sell the book – whether signings and readings at bookshops (if you’ve opted for an ISBN) and have persuaded some bookshops to take it, or events which are basically shows, at which you sell the book at the same stall you have for the programmes and any other merchandise. One writer I know had some fantastic t-shirts on sale for a winter tour of one of his books! So for the event/s in question, there are the tickets – a box office or printing them yourself? Flyers, more posters, cards, rehearsals, checking technical stuff like sound and any lighting…spamming people you know, know of and hardly know, a notebook so people can join your ‘mailing list’ if they wish…and a load of other tasks that properly belong to a performer’s blog. Even after all this – once you’ve put some in shops which take all the profit – and taking into account everything from a folding table to new printer ink at a £160 a shot for a decent laser printer cartridge – you’ll have to sell all of the first print run to break even. The question you then must ask yourself is – can you face a second? Time to sit down and work out the maths of costs; if you broke even, made a loss, or profit… Then looking at the issue of a bigger print run vs. more travel to more events to sell it, and…..

   Remember – the first print run may have been a success, but some at least were sold to people you know…the second print run will be mostly sold to strangers. Yep, that’s right – it’s going to be even harder…the one thing that will make it easier is all the stuff you learned during the first print run.

   I guess that may answer the question - how come the average sales of a self published book are 100-150… And the next question must be not - how come more people don’t publish their own books, nor how come so many do, but how many go on to the second print run…..?