Doing things DIFFERENTLY
May news from Fly on the Wall Press
Spring feels finally PROPERLY here and I’m really enjoying bright evening walks. I’ve been reading Bookseller controversies (see ‘Bookseller survey finds debut authors struggle with lack of support’ – even with leading trade publishers) and reflecting on the wonderful things which Fly on the Wall Press does DIFFERENTLY for our writers. I love seeing our debut and established authors succeed: future works, performances at established literary festival and residencies (Dr David Hartley, author of FOTW story collection ‘Fauna’, longlisted for the 2021 Edge Hill Prize, was recently in Estonia for a residency and was invited to be part of the Gladstone’s Library festival!)
Publishing is associated with ‘editorial’, but it is so much more than that. My hard work really begins in the few months leading up to publication, when I approach literary festivals, bookshops and newspapers and, most recently, when scheduling meetings with audiobook companies and TV studios for commissioning…
Here at FOTW, we just had the most successful Northern Publishers’ Fair yet. Packed with over 300 people, authors, readers, publishers and publishing hopefuls met to browse books and make meaningful connections. We had a videographer from Salford Uni and Jak Stocker as our camera man to capture the special day.
On April 28th we published satirical short story collection, ‘The State of Us’ by Charlie Hill which is now available in Waterstones Birmingham signed! One of my personal favourite stories from the collection brings to life two ‘rather posh’ couples, who both are insistent on cultivating a genius from their young toddlers – so determined are they, that the parents start to lie, scheme and plot against the other couple. May the best child win!
On May 10th we will be at Market Harborough Waterstones/May 12th at Blackwell’s Manchester to launch ‘The Ones Who Flew The Nest’, our curated literary fiction anthology, celebrated in ‘BookBrunch’ for its spotlight on working-class writers! Moments of fight or flight…
Market Harborough on the 10th, 5.30-6.30pm will be a signing and reading from contributor Helen Kennedy, in conversation with myself about the wider industry. Free, just show up and have some wine with us! Details here.
May 12th at Blackwell’s, Manchester Oxford Rd, will be a joyful performance and signing from all four writers: established novelists Louise Finnigan, Jacqueline Ward, Helen Kennedy and Katie Hale. Pay as you feel sign ups here. Always a great atmosphere with the lovely booksellers there.
Before we share with you a sneaky preview from ‘The Ones Who Flew The Nest’, I wanted to say thank you for all the ‘Modern Gothic’ anthology submissions so far! Uncanny writing that might just keep me up all night… We are open until May 28th if you have an Angela Carter inside you waiting to get out! Details here.
And if you do have a manuscript, but the routes to publication seem complicated and protected by gatekeepers, we are giving a masterclass on June 21st, covering both agent and direct to indie publisher routes. You can sign up for that here.
Sample from story: ‘YOU CAN LET YOURSELF BE SWEPT AWAY OR ELSE BECOME THE FLOOD’ by Katie Hale (The Ones Who Flew The Nest Anthology)
The first time they met, he told her one sweep of a wing could break a person’s arm. She was pretty sure that was about swans, not geese – not to mention an urban myth – but she tucked her hair behind her ear and said, “Wow”.
He flared his own wings like a magician’s cape, and when he pushed out his long black neck and hissed, it was an acrid rush, like the valves in her old school science lab: a flare in need of a match.
He had planted himself halfway across Spenny Bridge, where the moonlight rang grey on painted metal and the river surged below them, dark and roiling. Up on Brampton Road, the streetlamps were distant orange beads. An unlit grassy slope before them. It was the sort of time her mum would have said was too late for cutting through the park alone, if her mum had known about it, which of course she wouldn’t.
“Are you afraid?”
Her breath was sour against her scarf as she tongued the fug from her teeth. She thought she had forgotten how to be afraid. She tugged the old coat around her. “No.”
“Good.” His face shone thin and ghostly, his beak a dark stab from his eyes.
Until next time,
Isabelle x