I still am.
I’ve spent all my working life persuading people to buy new writers and new writing.
I sit on the board of Inpress, an organisation promoting independent publishing and selling books and magazines by indie publishers.
Tom Spanbauer has a new book out in April.
There are 189 books on my to-read pile, and 36 unread on my iPad, that’s two to three years’ worth.
It should be time for some literary austerity: I’m broke and need to pay off the credit cards loaded with books I bought last year.
I’ll get a few free books from chairing events, and tons of fantastic writing from writers in our Writing Squad programme.
I have just become a member of the beautiful subscription library, The Leeds Library.
Although like many advocates of libraries I haven’t borrowed a public library book for years, I still have my card somewhere.
I have travelled far enough on too many dark evenings, drunk enough warm white wine and bought too many dull books at the cold launches of people who didn’t come to my launches or buy my books.
I read Tom’s excellent book in manuscript, I could read the pdf again in April and imagine the cuts and changes I think he’d have made.
Trouble is another writer friend has a book just out in paperback, Sarah Butler’s Ten Things I’ve Learnt About Love is in the supermarket at £2. That wouldn’t really be like buying a book would it? More like buying oranges.
Update, Edit, Update
Hills like sleeping dogs
It has felt absurd every time I've said it, The Tour de France is coming through my village.
Additional Undercover Customer Parking