Thanks FedEx! My 100 paperback books arrived five days earlier than expected, so I can get on with sending copies off to those who need them this very afternoon!
“Seebee,” said Jeremiah, above the clamorous leprechauns, “as long as we keep calm and carry on, nothing can go wrong.
If you are a book reviewer, please contact me to discuss getting a copy.
Happy, happy, happy!
As a child, the repetition of that one word, ‘Jackanory’ heralded an hour of story telling par excellence on the BBC. Who could ever forget Kevin Turvey, Alan Bennett, Judi Dench, or Alexei Sayle and Prince Charles, reading stories in their own, special way.
Lying in the bath this morning got me thinking…Audiobooks. Should an author, having covered print and ebook formats consider an audiobook of their work? My conclusion was yes.
Alas, though I would love Kevin Turvey to narrate my book (Rik Mayall, Kevin’s alter ego sadly passed away in 2014) I would have to think closer to home. A lot of my book is about an English village and several trips back in British history. The narrator would have to be British, most probably English. Martin Freeman, Simon Pegg, or Nick Frost? Perhaps Stephen Fry was at a loose end? A quick check of my bank account put paid to bringing any of those onboard…Perhaps for a film version for Warner with JJ Abrams directing?
I digress. The narrator has to be English, and I have no money to pay for an A list actor. I’ll do it myself!
Thoughts on my very loose attempt at the attached link can be left below. I have a thick skin, but it punctures easily.
It’s a magical moment when your novel comes into the world…
Here is the current list of distributors of Tarquin Jenkins and the Book of Dreams;
Amazon is showing a pre-order Kindle status for April 20. My mistake; so not available there yet.
The book will be available as a paperback. I am vetting the various proofs now, and will let you know when and where they will be sold. If you can’t wait, message me and I can send you a first edition, signed copy in about three weeks printed in Canada by First Choice Books www.firstchoicebooks.ca. Sadly, this is only available to USA, Canadian and British citizens due to postage levies.
Review copies (both ebook and paperback) are available to UK, Canadian and US bloggers. Message me.
The Giveaway opens on 27 February!
Here it is, the cover for my print edition!
Initially, I will be having 100 printed for friends, family, bloggers and 30 children between the ages of 13 to 17 from various schools in Montreal for review. Also, several children in England will be receiving a copy and asked to provide their views.
Book two is underway, and here is a sneak peek of the opening chapter…
The Steeple Snoring Post Office door flew open and Mrs Roundtree bustled in.
“They’ve found that Jenkins boy in the woods! He’s been eaten!” The Post Office fell silent. A dozen ordinarily gray faces turned white; a baby cried.
“How, why?” asked the Post Master. “It’s been three weeks since he went missing.” All eyes turned to Mrs Roundtree who, having run, or more likely waddled down the High Street, was now being comforted by her husband Kenneth from his mobility scooter. She gripped the edge of a counter tightly, her face the colour of rhubarb. She wheezed, inhaled deeply and took hold of her husband’s outstretched hand.
“Sergeant Sloth says…” she sniffed and looked skyward, before continuing, “he says…A sounder of wild boars ate him!” With that, she burst into a flood of tears and sat on her husband who emitted a mournful cry.
“She means a pack,” said Mrs Hoploosely nodding shrewdly, before marching over to comfort them.
“Are we safe?” asked a very small man in a trilby hat reaching up to look out of the casement window. When several customers joined him, he made for the door.
“Excuse me, but you look strangely familiar.” Standing in the doorway looking at the little man was Mrs Hoploosley.
“Oi don’t tink so, oim jist passin’ through ta village,” said the little man pulling his trilby down across his face and ducking under Mrs Hoploosley’s closed umbrella. Exiting the Post Office, the little man walked briskly down the High Street…