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Saturday, 6 October 2012

Four weeks to go and counting ...

The launch of Mine to Avenge is only 4 weeks away now. The invitations have gone out and RSVPs are coming in. I can’t believe how quickly the time is passing and there is still so much to do, but when I look at my original list of things to be done, it’s heartening to see that some things have been crossed off. I have hired a cheaply priced venue (the deposit is steep but refundable), a lovely niece is providing the food at a very generous rate, and different friends are assisting with setting up the venue and selling books.
Later this week I am also expecting to receive the first bound proof copy ahead of printing the actual books. I can only imagine at this stage what it will be like to have the actual bound book in my hands.
EBooks are the big thing these days, and Mine to Avenge will also be released in four weeks time as an eBook, but there is just something about the idea of holding a tangible product in your hands after all the years of hard work. I’m sure it must be the same for other authors as well.
This new electronic age has also brought with it the possibility of on-line book launch - something else I am considering for a time soon after the launch for the hard-copy version.  The idea of planning such a thing is somewhat daunting, given that my social networking skills are still in their infancy. However, at the beginning of this year I had no idea at all what Twitter was about, and suffered badly from ‘Facebook-phobia’, but now I am finding my way around on both quite well, and am actually enjoying it. I have learned how to add Facebook ‘Like’ buttons to my blog, and have also discovered the wonderful world of apps, learning which ones I might benefit from and how to put them on my Fan Page. I am hoping that four weeks will be enough for me to fathom the ins and outs of hosting an on-line book launch!

Meanwhile, let me leave you with another snippet from Mine to Avenge - a smaller bite this time - again from Chapter 48.

One balmy evening in 1998, the young couple living in the farmhouse realised they hadn’t seen their neighbour for at least a month. His car usually went along the second driveway at least once a week into the town, but neither of them could remember the last time they saw it. They didn’t know their neighbour personally, but were worried about him, so they walked down to his cottage to investigate.
They found the once pristine cottage dirty and neglected. The verandah was unswept and cobwebs adorned every verandah post. Inside, the building looked as if it had been abandoned, with a sheet of dust draped over the furniture. The kitchen showed no signs of recent use. Dishes were in the dish rack from some time before, but now needed cleaning again.
Suddenly they heard a faint whimpering, and they wondered if there was an abandoned kitten or puppy somewhere needing attention. They followed the sound, which appeared to be coming from a bedroom at the end of the passage. They went into the room, completely unprepared for what they saw. It wasn’t a kitten or puppy whimpering in the corner of the room, but a man, their neighbour, gaunt, dirty and seemingly unaware of their presence. He was crouched in the corner of his bedroom, rocking rhythmically back and forth, and mumbling incoherently, having succumbed to the tangled chaos of his tortured mind.

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