Tuesday, 19 August 2014

The Evolution of Paulie’s Web ( Now on Special Kindle Offer)

The Meeting

I first met my friend and RoomtoWrite collaborator, novelist Avril Joy, in prison. We were both, in our own way, ‘serving time’. Avril was three quarters of a the way through a twenty-five year teaching commitment. I was  beginning what was to be a four year association with this women’s prison as a Writer in Residence. It was then that she started out on her writing career and it was then that I had the life-changing experience of helping a whole range of women from all walks of life to find their (often silenced) voice in writing.


The Novel

One of several great outcomes of this experience for me, my novel Paulie’s Web, was a long time coming. It took me ten years to digest these powerful impressions sufficiently to write this novel as true fiction - in a way that still paid tribute to the many  women I met while working there;  I thought that if it went some way to cracking the absurd stereotypes of 'women in prison' that would  be an extra delight.  It is true that there are some dark passages here in the novel but the ultimately optimistic tone of this story is a true reflection of the mutual support, humour, stoicism and kindness that I was witness to in my prison experience.

 

So, what is it about?

Paulie Smith, rebel, ex-teacher and emerging writer, comes out of prison after six years, her conviction overturned. As she moves around in the next few days, struggling to readjust to the scary realities of life
‘on the out’, she reflects on her life in prison. She focuses particularly on her first few weeks inside, alongside the four very different women whom she first met in the white van on their way to their first remand prison.

Paulie’s thoughts move from Queenie*, the old bag- lady who sees giants and angels, to Maritza who has disguised her pain with an ultra-conventional life, to Lilah, the spoiled apple of her mother’s eye, and on to   to the tragedy of Christine - the one with the real scars.

And then there is Paulie herself, who ended up in prison through no fault of her own. The unique stories of these women, past and present, mingle as Paulie - free at last - goes looking for these unique women who have now been ‘on the out’ for some years and are, Paulie hopes,  remaking their lives.



Read the Chapter introducing Queenie HERE
Or click on the tab in the heading.



Most  importantly: The Readers


*****Amazon Reviews - Samples

***** ‘… I loved the characters in Paulie's Web: their strengths, their weaknesses, their back-stories and in spite of everything - their humour.’

*****  In this exceptional and insightful novel, Wendy Robertson introduces us to the hidden world of invisible women that is prison. Her characters and their stories leap off the page at us, there are no stereotypes here, this is not Prisoner Cell Block H or Bad Girls but it is every bit as compelling. She is a consummate story-teller, who weaves a fascinating web around these disparate lives and if you want to know what prison is really like and who the women we lock away every day are then READ THIS.

***** ..’With the sharpness of a journalist and the skill of a novelist, Robertson cleverly brings all of these characters to life, making the reader care about them. She has a deft style, almost a magician's touch, in that the characters quickly take root and you feel yourself urging Paulie forward and hoping she and the others find some resolution and peace. I loved the characters in Paulie's Web: their strengths, their weaknesses, their backstories and in spite of everything - their humour…’

*****  ‘Wendy Robertson has pulled off something quite remarkable in her latest novel, Paulie's Web. I loved everything about it and read it in one sitting - on a long haul flight, something to be grateful for, even on that level.

***** ‘..Wonderful novel based on much truth of prison life impacting on women.’


***** ‘…also an argument for the way that literature and education can transform the lives of prisoners. It has as much of a good feel exit as is compatible with the plot … Wendy is a brilliant story-teller who has written more than twenty novels. This one draws on her experience of being a writer-in-residence working with prisoners. It's a fascinating glimpse behind the tabloid headlines at the unimaginably hard lives of some of those who end up in the prison system because of mental health problems, abusive childhoods, drink and drug dependency.’

Link here  Avril Joy   


Hope you enjoy it as well. wx

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Norton Conyers & My Charlotte Bronte Short Story


Some years ago, my writing group Wear Valley Writers  used to go on ‘field trips’,  visiting interesting places – a farm, a beach, a stretch of moorland – to have a picnic and tackle a piece of observation and writing on the spot. The quality of the writing outcomes emerging from these adventures was always high, giving us something to build on.


On one outstanding occasion by special arrangement we visited Norton Conyers - a grade 2 listed late medieval manor house with some Stuart and Georgian elements - owned by the Graham family since 1624.  We were privileged to visit it before it was more generally open to the public and to be shown around the house by the owner and the garden by the owner’s wife. It had all the atmosphere of a family home stretching back hundreds of years and, as we made our way around it, it was easy to feel the company of people from other times.

Our very informed guide  eventually led us up a newly unblocked staircase connecting the first floor to the attics and led us through several attic rooms to a dark attic at the end with a single round window. He told us of the family legend that a mad woman had been confined to this attic for years. He also told us that Norton Conyers had been visited by the writer Charlotte Bronte in 1839  and this house was said to be the model for Thornfield Hall in her novel Jane Eyre.

Then we had a look around the fascinating historic garden (which they were developing then and is now open to the public).  So, both inside and outside,the house we found  masses of atmosphere and inspiration for our writing.
Eileen, who was there, has just turned up this photo of some
of us picnicking outsied the Orangery before embarking
 on the writing. I am in the straw hat...

Later we settled down before the Orangery,  ate our picnics and wrote like fury for forty minutes before we read our drafts to each other. There was some good writing there.

In the next week I developed my own 'orangery draft' into a full blown story called Letter to Emily inspired by Charlotte Bronte’s visit to Norton Conyers when she was 23 years old. You can read it here  if you want to see how my story  turned out, or you can click on the 'Short Story' tab above.


All this was brought to my mind by an article this week in The Independent which talks about Norton Conyers and has a splendid image of the very attic. I see that Norton Conyers is much more developed now, with its history well documented and it’s Orangery for hire for weddings and other events.

I am so glad to have been there when the house was its true self and as I read my  fictional story again I can remember it when the pretty Orangery was dusty and somewhat overgrown, the house was still in its historical slumber and  I  was visited by  Charlotte’s shadow as she made a call on the Lady of The House at Norton Conyers.

Monday, 11 August 2014

A Bargain Book. A Bit of an Experiment,

  

My novel Journey To Moscow (The Adventures of Olivia Ozanne)has been selling nicely on Kindle and has so far achieved a welcome
100% Five Star Reviews. 


Hoping that more of you will read and enjoy Olivia, this week (from 13th to 19th August) I am offering the Kindle version  of Journey to Moscow at the reduced price of 99p/99cents. This is a bit of an experiment as I don't know how it works but look forward to discovering the outcome!


To share Olivia's adventure. here - as a Russian taster -  is the adventurous Olivia, caught with her lover  by her bossy daughter and driven to defend her new protegée - an old Englishwoman who has survived in Moscow since the 1917 Revolution.  - 

... And I am saying, ‘don’t worry Ninochka, I will . . .’ I hear a banging on a far door and the thunder of footsteps on wood. I reach towards the girl, thrusting dark and dingy clothes in her hands, shouting ‘Put them on, darling! Put them on!’ Through the window I can see young men, boys in shabby army fatigues pouring into the house. The knocking gets louder.
    ‘Mother! Mother! Can I come in?’
     I sit bolt upright in bed, blinking down at Volodya who is curled in a foetal position on the floor. ‘No, Caitlin. No! Wait.’
    I grab my wrap, squeeze through the door and shut it behind me. Caitlin is standing there, vivid and elegant in a green trouser suit and  sturdy, well-polished, boots.
     ‘You look elegant, darling.’ Fending-off words. An old habit
      ‘Is he in there?’ She says fiercely. ‘The Russian?’
      I push my hair out of my eyes. ‘I’m afraid so. It was a bit late for him to get back across Moscow when we––’
     ‘I don’t want to know!’ She pulls me into the narrow hall and faces me, holding both my arms, hard, above the elbow. ‘Now, Mother, just two things! Charles will call for you here at ten. Why he wants to take you careering across the countryside I don’t know. But it seems you’ve caught his fancy. Or your story about that old woman has. But I want you to promise me something.’
     ‘Yes, dear?’ I am trying to struggle out of her grip.
    ‘You do not let Charles Conrad have the old woman, do you hear me? If she’s anyone’s she’s mine.’
      I pull away from her. ‘Mary Martha! Her name is Mary Martha Johnson. You can’t have her. And she’s not mine to give to anyone, you silly girl. I certainly wouldn’t ‘give’ her to Charles Conrad. But I won’t give her to you either.’... 


Thursday, 7 August 2014

Mountains,RLS, and Blogging


Robert Louis Stevenson wrote a note about this book to a friend. This so very much applies to my feeling about posting blogs here that I could not resist quoting him.
Every book – for me blog post.w. -  is, in the intimate sense, a circular letter to the friends of him (she) who writes it. They alone take his meaning; they find private messages, assurances of love and expressions of gratitude, dropped for them at every corner…Yet though the letter is addressed to all, yet we have an old and friendly custom of addressing it on the outside to one. Of what shall a man be proud of not proud of his friends?
I count all who drop by Life Twice Tasted with any regularity as a friend and RLS’s words really apply to me.

And now to Travels with a Donkey

Trying to cling onto the magical effect of my time in Marseillan I have been reading again Robert  Louis Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes. To remind you - the Cevennes is (are?) the range covering the precipitous southern section of the mountainous massif central where cold air from the Atlantic coast does battle with the warm air blowing in from the Mediterranean, causing heavy rainfall in Autumn – the season in 1878 when the 29 year old Robert chose to make his famous twelve-day hike through the Cevennes, assisted and sometimes obstructed by the stubborn, vengeful and characterful donkey Modestine.
I had forgotten what a great storyteller RLS was - how transparent how emotional, how direct, how well observed is his writing:
The road smoked in the twilight with children driving home cattle from the fields; and a pair of stride-legged women, hat and cap and all dashed past me at a hammering trot from the canton where they had been to church and market. I asked one of the children where I was. ‘At Bouchet St Nicolas,’ he told me.
I loved reading it again but I’d forgotten the religious focus our perceptive Scottish Protestant brought to this long travel essay. He was travelling through the country of the Camisards. Unlike other protestant Huguenots, the Camisards of this regions did not flee the pursecution if Lousi X1V. They survived and stayed protected by the hard terrain of the Cevennes and their own self reliant culture. But their survival was not without cost:
… when Julien had finished his famous work, the devastation of the High Cevennes which lasted all through October and November 1703, and during which four hundred and sixty villages and hamlet were, with fire and pickaxe, utterly subverted … a man standing on this eminence would have looked forth upon a silent, smokeless and dispeopled land.
And then, in the same paragraph RLS brings us back on this same eminence in his own day, on his own journey, to
…perhaps the wildest view of all my journey. Peak upon peak, chan upon chainof hills ran surging southward, channelled and sculptured by the winter streams, feathered fro head to foot with chestnuts, and here and there breaking into a coronel of cliffs. The sun, which was still far from setting, sent a drift of misty gold across the hill-tops , but the valleys were already plunged in a profound and quiet shadow…
I read an edition of Travels With a Donkey which incorporates a highly informative and helpful section by travel writer Laurence Phillips. This is his detailed guide as to how the modern traveller - on foot, bike, by car or even donkey - may follow Stevenson’s precipitous route through the Cevennes.
I am tempted.
I would, dear friends, highly recommend it. wx

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

A Sense of Place.. The Maison Bleue, Work in Progress.

Extract from The Maison Bleue 


(This novel will be published in September, If you would like to order a signed copy email me at wenrob73@hotmail.com )

Crime writer Ruthie Dancing finds the house where she will set up her writer's retreat:


'...The Maison Bleue is half massive old stone and half rendered, peeling plaster; its garden sprawls down to the great plane trees that line the Canal du Midi. The window shutters are pale blue, framed in dusty white. There are nine windows – two on each side of the door on the ground floor, two on the first and second floors and one at the top under the white-painted arch of the roof. All of them, even the small one at the top, have narrow balconies painted a glossy dark blue. On the rendered walls the pale blue paint is dusty and peeling and quilted with dozens of cracks, gauzy as spider’s webs...'

And in an outbuilding in the garden Ruthie finds the place where her writers will find inspiration and write.


... ‘Don’t go in there, Ruthie!’ Aurélie’s voice comes from behind her. ‘It is a very nasty in there. Full of filthy stuff.’
The heavy door with its big iron latch should be hard to move but it isn’t. It slides easily when Ruthie pushes it. And now where she is standing the bright southern light trickles through gaps in the roof and through the five arched, unglazed windows on the opposite greenish black wall.
The floor is knee deep with the detritus of centuries – rank soil, rotting leaves, tree branches, paper labels, wrinkled condoms, tin cans, broken glasses and bottles: all whirled here on the wings of the mistral, that high southern wind that will leave nothing in its proper place.
Aurélie stands, arms folded, and watches with some amusement as Ruthie scrapes her way through the rubbish down to the surface of the floor then pulls off her scarf to scrub at it. ‘It’s marble, Aurélie! Marble!’ She laughs with delight. She scans the space. ‘This must have been a very important room.’ On a place high on the far wall and are streaks and lines of dust like shadow of a high tide. ‘And there’ve been bookshelves here. Bookshelves!’
She stands there, her face burning in the high sun of mid day streaming through the windows. She can see long tables here, high desks. And she can see men with their heads down over their writing, filled with the focused energy so familiar in her own working life. 
‘Ruthie? Are you all right?’ Aurélie is beside her, her hand on Ruthie’s shoulders....'


ƧƧƧƧƧƧƧƧ


If you have read so far you might be interested in my posts elsewhere  about the importance of place for this writer -  here where I spoke of it in relation to my novel Lines of Desire. and here where I spoke of Castletownshend in Ireland and travel as inspiration.


Wednesday, 30 July 2014

The Real Francine: A view from Marsiellan


Here is a post -script to my post about bicycles in this town (scroll down!) 


In that post I included an extract from my new novel  Maison Bleue. You will see that the work-in-progress extract from this novel is a fragment of a memoir of a woman who as a girl had worked for the Resistance, who escapes on a bicycle.


How very nice for this writer, then, to receive a note from Laurence Phillips, author of - amongst many other books - of the definitive and engaging (How to be very, very lazy in) Marseillan.  

Laurence writes:  'La Vraie Francine'.
'... Four weeks ago, . S. and I walked  to the Spring war memorial (Marseillan has 3 memorials) on the allees  Roques for the annual service of remembrance for the Resistance. Some surviving members were there laying wreaths to their comrades and one of their number, an elegant grey-haired woman in a light blue coat, made a very strong impression on us both. As we listened to tales of sabotage and sacrifice, We imagined her as a teenage girl in a summer frock and straw hat cycling through the vines  around the village, along the canal path to the now abandoned railway line. Just seeing the modest dignity of that woman, and knowing that she could be any of the ladies I nod to in the market or the boulangerie  week after week, well, I am sure you know how we felt. So soon after we stood just yards from her, singing the Marseillaise,  and feeling so strongly the presence of the brave brave girl she had been, those paragraphs from your new book are greatly appreciated....'


Thank you, Laurence, from one storyteller to another. This convinced me yet again that in fiction we dip into some kind of conscience collective and illuminate some enduring truth.


This is true of 'fact' as well as fiction. So I so identify when, in his book, Laurence Phillips says,'Those villagers who shared their inherited gossip would be first to shrug off a request for back up and even the most respected historian would admit that the events of such a century in such a place might have occurred somewhere quite different at another time altogether ...  Each time in its place; each place in its setting; and each personality recalled wherever life was lived at its best...'


Tomorrow (too soon) we are away. I hope you have enjoyed my Postcards from Marseillan.


... à bientôt ...W.

Friday, 25 July 2014

P/C from Marseillan: On Your Bicyclette & W.I.P


A family of bicycles.

Postcard from Marseillan. 

I am noticing so many people here who ride  bicycles - workers and holiday makers, boys, girls, men and women of all ages.
Whatever their age they are brown and fit and a very good advertisement for their vehicle of choice. I regret now that I can't ride a bicycle. (I can't swim, either. Put both facts down to the restricted childhood.)
But here in this sunshine on this flat coastal plain I wish I could do both. This bike riding looks free and healthy and wonderfully innocent in a way.
t

So I have been thinking quite a lot about bicycles - and this brings me to my Work in Progress. 

Francine's window at 
the Maison Bleu

While I'm staying here in this place next to Heaven  I am editing the completed manuscript of  'At the Maison Bleu'
This is a novel about a group of very different writers who meet (not far from here) at the Maison Bleu, on the banks of the Canal du Midi.
Central to the novel is Francine, now a venerable and successful novelist. And here  she is remembering her wartime experience in South West France. She thinks about how her teacher helped her to flee perhaps to safety.
And here, historically, the bicycle is significant. Francine aged fourteen - like other teenagers - has worked as a courier for a local Resistance group and is now in danger.



Extract from 'At The Maison Bleu'

 '...At the refuge I choose a small case from my mother’s collection and in it pack my schoolbooks, two suits that I cut down from my mother’s, the shoes with rubber  tyre soles that Auguste made for me, my red scarf, the little black and white photograph me and my mother at the door of this house in the Rue de la Ville. And a photograph of me on my bicycle, taken by Auguste. And the little package with my mother’s cherry red dress. On top of them I put a cardboard folder with my butcher’s paper stories on them. And there are more empty sheets where I will write of my life out there in the country. I will hold in my head the images of Auguste’s harmless kisses and loving touches behind the scenes at the Blue House.  And the dangerous things that went on there.
I wedge the suitcase on my bicycle and walk it down to the harbour. Madame Griche is there outside the laundress’s door, now closed and locked. She has her heavy bicycle with her, which sports baskets back and front, not so uncommon these days.

Neither his mother nor Auguste are there. I will not be able to kiss him goodbye.
Madame smiles slightly when she sees me. Then she makes me empty my case and share the contents between her baskets and mine. ‘No point in letting people into our secret, Francine!’ she says, wrapping the books and paper in an oiled kitchen cloth and putting them at the bottom of her back basket. We throw the case itself into the broad river where it bubbles and sinks like a body.
Then, side by side on our bicycles, we make our way out of the town, keeping to the narrow lanes away from the coastal paths where the soldiers lurk. They are so afraid of the sea and just who or what might emerge from its pulsing waters. Already there have been secret American landings here.

‘The sea is our friend,’ says Madame Griche. ‘Now we know that the Americans are firm for the end-game alongside the poor old English and they may turn up anywhere. And the Boches know this.’

 As we ride along she explains to me that in the beginning everyone thought the Boches would march straight into England, just as they'd marched straight through France, so why should we have any faith in the English?

She goes on: ‘Love them or hate them, though, the English are dogged. They hang on, Francine!. Those English do hang on!'

 ...



A sturdy working bicycle in Marseillan,



Wednesday, 23 July 2014

P/C from Marseillan: Holiday Reading Rachel Cooke


The random nature of reading on holiday is part of its charm.

I gave up on a book which began with three people improbably drinking neat gin from jam jars. Instead I plumped for a book on Licked Spoon’s pile: Her Brilliant Career by Rachel Cooke.

 The Book and its Themes

‘Her Brilliant Career’ consists of biographical pieces about ten women, who  characterise what Cooke sees as a neglected feminist feature of women’s experience in the 1950s. These women are proto-feminists before the high octane feminist splurge of the latter 1960s. (As I keep saying - nothing comes from nothing.)

These ten women - having experienced the shortages, losses and the heightened awareness brought
on by world war - inhabited lives of equality with their male cohorts, determinedly ploughing their own furrow and subverting the powerful post-war instinct to return to a conservative male-driven domestic ‘normality’
.
Each of them, in her different way, succeeded in this by being and sustaining her often ‘different’ self with her ambition, her self worth and determination to achieve the life aims she has set herself.

These women are distinctly different from each other and colourful in different ways. But, reading Cooke’s essays here, I have the feeling that they share three qualities: confidence in their importance of their central idea, self belief involving a habit, that the controlling world could call ‘selfishness’, of putting their own ideas before cultural expectations.  The third quality has to be courage - either instinctual or deliberate – as they flout the taken-for-granted view of what women’s lives should be and subvert the sacred institution of the family in post-war Britain.

Presaging a ‘feminist’ future even before that term was common parlance, the lives of these women, taken together, weave a complex picture of the changing nexus of being  a woman in the 1950s. (Declaring an interest, I grew up in the 1950s and can vouch for some of the truths here.)

The Women

Three of them were married, three of them were lesbians; six of them had children, three of them were divorced;  one of them was separated. Extra marital affairs seem common among this group and attitudes to children and the mother’s role vary.

 Who are they?

Patience Gray (Food writer); Nancy Spain (Writer and ‘personality’); Joan Werner Laurie (Magazine Editor); Sheila Van Damm ( Rally Car Driver and Theatre Manager); sisters-in law Muriel and Betty Box (pioneers of popular film); Alison Smithson (Future oriented architect); Jaquetta Hawkes (Archeologist) Rose Heilbron (QC and High Court Judge). 

It was great to read about the highly original, talented Alison Smithson* - a new name to me, now sunk below the horizon. In reading the book I learned a good deal about the others, about whom I thought I knew a lot. (I would urge you to read the book to discover more the differences and delights  in the lives of these women.)

The Writer

Rachel Cooke's voice is clearly that of a woman who inhabits the cultural certainties of 2014. Her style is elegant, intimate, sometimes quite matey. But in her deceptively informal style she delivers a beautifully written, very accessible book. The considerable depth and breadth of research of these biographies pins the accounts to the historical moment, to the culture of theatre and film, to the literature and architecture of the day, to the nature of civil society and the subtle politics of family and workplace.

Cooke achieves this feat with readable ease. Her footnotes illustrate the depth and breadth of her research and add colour and context to the lives of these women whose names echo in our memories: women who lived equal lives in psychologically more difficult  circumstances than women face today.

If you are at all interested in the 1950s, the wide-ranging introduction to Her Brilliant Career is worth reading alone. If you are interested in any individual woman, the following essays can be read each on its own. But to read all of them is to become familiar with the feeling of what it was like to be a woman in that very significant decade.

In my view the Brilliant Career of writer Rachel Cooke should be much enhanced by this first class book.

*In an earlier version of this post I mis-named this excellent woman. Apologies to Rachel Cooke, I put it down to mis-reading my own notes;  according to my perceptive daughter it's a thing called 'holiday brain'. Never suffered from that before. The name is correct now. wx

Thursday, 17 July 2014

Listening to Sounds at the Port

On holiday in  Marseillan in Herault. Our house is in the middle of the town - a few steps from the port with its lines of boats in one direction and a few steps from the town centre in the other -
I find myself ...

 Listening to Sounds at the Port 

Town bus grinding
Builder’s truck brumming
Small car purring
Scooter buzzing
Swallows chirruping
Small dog barking
Family voices -
father deeper, children higher,
mother somewhere in between
Guitar playing
Drummer drumming 
Church bells ringing
Skate-board growling
Rigging clattering

In this summer life
So very much to listen to ... 

'Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.'

Postcards from Marseillan on my Facebook.
 

Monday, 7 July 2014

Editing Your Book For Independent Publication

Having now edited and published ten novels using the Createspace facility I thought it might be good to share some helpful points for writers out there who are embarking or struggling with this process.


I have writer  friends who are independently publishing with the technical help of their tech-savvy partners or co workers, I’m not so lucky so I have done every stage myself.

I must say if I can do it then so can you. I  I have become comfortable with the Createspace process but there are other printing/publishing enterprises out there which you may choose.  The principles will be similar.

This is the first of five posts about First Principles of  Independent  Publishing

1. Editing Your Book In for Independent Publishing.
2. The Cover
3. Uploading the interior and the cover.
4. Proofing
5. Selling


 Editing your book  for Independent Publishing

1.       Make sure your manuscript in Word is as good as it can be by assiduous line editing, proofing and manual spell-checking. Also do a mechanical spell check to back this up.
2.       Read through and ask yourself it this core of the book says truly what you want to say. You feel the need to alter and amend even at this stage.
3.       Now is the time you insert the front pages that are in any book. (Check half a dozen books and note the pages that occur before the book begins. These pages should include.
4.       Two blank pages at the beginning
5.       Facing Half Title page with just the title (no author)  
6.       Blank page
7.       Facing Title Page with Title and Author, perhaps a quotation or phrase as appropriate, and the publisher at the bottom of the page. (Give your publishing enterprise a name…)
8.       Copyright Page. Take a published book and copy the form of the copyright page. Leave a space for the ISBN which you can insert when you have uploaded the manuscript.  Createspace will assign you an ISBN number.
9.        Facing page – Dedication and Acknowledgements
10.    Blank page
11.    Facing page - If you want this. (Essential for the Kindle version) - A summary of the story. If you are doing Print in Demand.you can copy  and paste this onto the back cover.
12.    Contents Page (if necessary). Or leave page blank,.
13.   Facing Page: Beginning of your story. Leave a ten line gap at the beginning of every chapter.

NEXT
Studs 
14.   In your word document  created a page break between each chapter
15.   First paragraphs in each chapter should be on the margin.
16.   If, within a chapter, you leave white space (double-double click)to indicate to the reader a change of time of place then the  first line of the new paragraph should also be un-indented.
17.   At the end of the ms you might want to insert pages with :
-          Information about  you and contact details
-          Blog, Twitter and Facebook links if these exist
-          Information about earlier or other publications
18.Leave two blank pages again.
I know it’s a bit fiddly but if you do it step by step you will be OK. Your manuscript should now be ready to upload to the Createspace template.
 More about that next time . 

NEXT:
Creating your cover and uploading your prepared manuscript.

On this page  are three of the books I have published using these processes.





Forms of Flight: 


Lines of Desire

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