Nevertheless, She Persisted

Note to self.

Continuous refreshing of Submittable does not make the acceptance process any quicker.

21st June 2019

I get a mention in this new book! https://roppotucha.blogspot.com/2019/06/creatures-give-advice-again-and-its.html

(I’m on page 50)

First peek at the anthology…

Proof stage so I won’t get a look for a couple of months yet.

 

6th June 2019

My post ‘I ♥️ My Dad’ gets a little mention on twitter and on this blog. https://lifewithcharli.home.blog/charli-dee/

 

April 2019

I’m keeping busy, entering competitions to win fabulous cash prizes or inclusion in anthologies. Some of my posts have found a second life on the following websites.

WhoSaidSheSaid and  Writers and Artists so please head over there and give them the thumbs up!

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24th March 2019

I was quite emotional at this awesome picture, drawn just for little ‘ol me over on Roppotcha

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21st March 2019

The anthology is on hold…

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1st March 2019

One of my short stories called “May Settle in Transit” has been chosen for inclusion in the upcoming anthology, “An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Leicester”. Out October 2019.

Note* Was to be published by Dahlia Publishing, now by Lulu.

Little steps!

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19th October 2018

I write, therefore I am, a writer.

The next step of my journey is towards a real, physical novel on our shared shelf.

My first paid experiences of ‘publication’ were in the early 80s, as a pre-teen. I discovered that comics such as ‘Bunty’ would send me a £2 postal order for every one of my letters that they printed.

I had a joke printed in ‘The Aero Book of Jokes’ in the mid-80s, but later realised that quite possibly everyone who sent in a joke, ended up in print. By rights, when I am published in a book, I can claim that “it is my second book!”

(page 38)

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The late 80s and early 90s saw me writing terrible poetry and lyrics and performing them on stage to paying audiences. (See my All About Me page for a photo)

It never occurred to me that so many people would read my letter in ‘Empire’ magazine about the film ‘Trainspotting’, in the mid-90s, and I’d temporarily acquire a new nickname because of it. The only reason I even knew the letter had been published was when a colleague read the magazine aloud at the bedside of her comatose daughter, and came across my name.

I wrote ALL of the content (pitched at reading age 7 with award-winning, disabled-friendly layout) for the website of my employer. That’s every single word. Out of 18 sites, it ranked 2nd for visitor numbers. London was the only site with higher visitor numbers. It was so well-received that it was proudly referenced on a well-known career networking site, under a colleague’s name as their sole work! Oh, how I chuckled at their blatent theft, then smarted at my own incredulity when when they got the performance-related-pay bonus and I did not. Hindsight is a wonderful teacher.

A “5b46” dj slot for the Chris Hawkins  show on BBC6 Music brought some of my writing (on the theme of female desire, with accompanying indie tracks) to an audience of tens of thousands, every morning, for a week last summer. It was for the #hearher project, so every track was by a female artist, or female-fronted band.

The tracks I picked were:

‘Hollaback Girl’ by Gwen Stefani

‘Stutter’ by Elastica

‘This is Love’ by PJ Harvey

‘You Know I’m No Good’ by Amy Winehouse

‘The Sensual World’ by Kate Bush

Somewhere in an attic of a house I used to live in, languishes my box of teenage diaries, letters, gig tickets, set lists, newspaper cuttings, home-made fanzines and old music magazines. I like to believe that they got lost in transit along the way, rather than thinking that someone burnt them or they got dumped into landfill. Very little, if any, of my writing has survived. Again, that is entirely my own fault, as it will be  (I kept meaning to back up my work onto a memory stick) when there is a firestorm and the clouds are emptied.

Do books die? I don’t even have copies of the demo tapes of me singing in any of my teenage bands, ‘The Valentines’ or ‘Cherubim.’ Where they went to, I can guess, but I don’t want it to be true. That voice has long gone.

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Me at the Reading Festival UK, probably around 1988. (Reading Rock in Reading, Berkshire UK not a reading books festival!)

This is me at a book festival, ahem… 30, yes, 30 years later. At Cheltenham Literature festival in Gloucestershire UK 2018. I’m standing outside the fabulous VW camper van that’s promoting Scarlett Curtis’ book, ‘Feminists Don’t Wear Pink and Other Lies’.

Somewhere in the mid-90s came along the Internet and I began writing online every day.

My hundreds and thousands of words, and more hours than I care to remember of my free daily content on forums, (remember Hole.com?) review sites, message boards, online newspapers and magazines comments sections, then later on, social media sites. (Note* I now have a shiny new author twitter account called @nicolawitters. The old account @zerofracks is on pause, but it might be the other way round by the time you read this. I’m trying to do less twitting about and more writing.)

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Online words just don’t seem to have the same longevity or validation as a book in a shop or library. Ironically, there are more than enough of my words online to fill several books. The intent was there, but the format was wrong.

So, this section of my blog is to highlight any of my writing that is chosen to be published by another company, either online or on paper. Hopefully, one day, there will be an actual physical book, that I did not have to pay to be printed, in my sweaty, chubby mitts, with an awesome cover and a marketing budget. Until then, I will continue plodding away, building a ‘brand’ (not out of vanity but because that’s what those in the business say I should do) and slowly improving. I have a long way to go and I am grateful for the feedback I have received from readers so far.

My characters keep me awake, they make me cry, I don’t want to leave them, but they’re flawed and I wouldn’t want to meet them in real life. If they’re on the page, they can be free to live on in other people’s heads, and not just trapped in mine. If you piss me off, you might find some of your worst traits trapped on the page, and I might even call a particularly horrid character after you, but that’s a writers prerogative. You won’t know until you’ve read it, and by then, I’ll have had your time and still got the royalties…

Watch this space…

Nicola x

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