I shall open with an apology for the previous post, in which I was apparently channelling Dame Edna Everage to an unsettling degree.
I shall speak to you for the length of one paragraph about databasing. Yesterday, in the space of perhaps three hours, I spent twelve long years databasing competition entries. It is undeniably a worthwhile endeavour. It prevents us from losing your contact details should we absentmindedly consume your entry forms. But it's not creative work. I suppose I could compose a song, of sorts, about it. A database shanty. Yes. I'll let you know how that comes along. I'll be sure to include plenty of 'heaves'.
I shall briefly mention the upcoming titles, details of which are available on the website. The proofs, which are too darling for words really, have been proofed and the slightly tweaked files are going to be sent to the printer practically before you'll be able to blink. And then shortly after that there will be books. Keep checking the website. That's my advice.
I shall also say that the results of the poetry competition are due to be announced more imminently than I can possibly express. Keep checking the website. That's my answer to everything.
And I shall close by telling you that, this very lunchtime, we're all going for an executive meeting. IN THE PUB.
Do write and tell us tales of your envy.
Sam.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Saturday, August 26, 2006
In which bemoaning triumphs over stiff-upper lippedness in the form of the proofs' coming back.
Yes. The proofs came back from the printer veritably the day after I bemoaned their continued absence. That's one up to bemoaning. Bemoaning once again fells patience. And the proofs, dearests, are very shiny indeed. The colours are all suitably colourful and the words are mostly if not entirely in the right order and mistakes there are few decreasing rapidly to none. On Wednesday, we hope to have them thoroughly gone over and the marginally tweaked files returned to the printer so the final books can be churned out of their glorious book machines and into your waiting laps. I think that's how it works. Hurrah.
In other news, Gav suggested in the days shortly before I remembered we had a blog that we ought also to have a motto. You know the sort of thing. 'Leaf Books: Unfunded But Game'. Etc. Mostly we said 'piffle' and 'like heck do we need a bally motto', because we're pretty erudite like that, and also verbally dated. Gav only very nearly took these as genuine suggestions.
If you have genuine suggestions, do feel free to make them. And I jolly well hope they're comedic.
Sam.
In other news, Gav suggested in the days shortly before I remembered we had a blog that we ought also to have a motto. You know the sort of thing. 'Leaf Books: Unfunded But Game'. Etc. Mostly we said 'piffle' and 'like heck do we need a bally motto', because we're pretty erudite like that, and also verbally dated. Gav only very nearly took these as genuine suggestions.
If you have genuine suggestions, do feel free to make them. And I jolly well hope they're comedic.
Sam.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
The Emergency Office Poncho is quite well, thank you.
It is morning. Not a winter's day in a deep and dark December. I am, nonetheless, alo-o-o-one. There is no street below the window on which I can gaze. I can take the song references no further.
It is still morning. Today, thus far, I have unfolded the emergency office poncho to check for general wear and tear and suitability for use should aforementioned emergency - which presumably has a lot to do with its being wet outside and everyone stupidly forgetting to bring umbrellas and having a desperate need for a sandwich and a flapjack around about elevenish - arise. All is well. I have procured water for myself to lessen the probability of my succumbing to death by dehydration, which I feel would be detrimental to the company's future. No-one else would've thought to check the poncho. I have altered the date on the whiteboard so it more closely resembles the date of the day in question. In green pen I have altered it. I have listened to the static on the answerphones. I have read the emails in the email thing, and responded to those to which I can respond. I have deleted a certain amount of vaguely pornographic spam.
I have updated the blog. Still it is morning. Later, I may or may not sharpen a pencil.
This is essentially a valuable insight into what happens in a small publishing house when the tremendously exciting upcoming books, with spines and multicolouring and general fantasticness that the website will tell you all about no less, are stranded at the printers. We are sad about this. Frankly, I hope you're fairly sad about it too, not because I wish you ill but because I want you to care pretty much fervantly about the speed at which you get to see our books, and also because you may find it character building in the long run.
The wait is vexing. The books are exciting. This is the important thing to remember.
Sam.
It is still morning. Today, thus far, I have unfolded the emergency office poncho to check for general wear and tear and suitability for use should aforementioned emergency - which presumably has a lot to do with its being wet outside and everyone stupidly forgetting to bring umbrellas and having a desperate need for a sandwich and a flapjack around about elevenish - arise. All is well. I have procured water for myself to lessen the probability of my succumbing to death by dehydration, which I feel would be detrimental to the company's future. No-one else would've thought to check the poncho. I have altered the date on the whiteboard so it more closely resembles the date of the day in question. In green pen I have altered it. I have listened to the static on the answerphones. I have read the emails in the email thing, and responded to those to which I can respond. I have deleted a certain amount of vaguely pornographic spam.
I have updated the blog. Still it is morning. Later, I may or may not sharpen a pencil.
This is essentially a valuable insight into what happens in a small publishing house when the tremendously exciting upcoming books, with spines and multicolouring and general fantasticness that the website will tell you all about no less, are stranded at the printers. We are sad about this. Frankly, I hope you're fairly sad about it too, not because I wish you ill but because I want you to care pretty much fervantly about the speed at which you get to see our books, and also because you may find it character building in the long run.
The wait is vexing. The books are exciting. This is the important thing to remember.
Sam.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
No excuses
Though there are in fact nine.
The reasons for not updating the blog are as follows:
1) Matt developed a strange affliction that mostly attached his hands to removable furniture for about a week, furthermore to an internet-less computer and further still to Adobe Indesign's facilities for typesetting NEW BOOKS.
2) The Editor, for whom dignity involves being called Sam, has been making boxes in which to transport books by turning another box inside out to start with. She's also been making phone-calls, answering phone-calls and critiquing. And critiquing. And indeed critiquing.
3) That in this period of time throughout which Matt procrastinates, Sam's neck makes funny noises.
4) Gav has been websiting, gambling in Las Vegas, sleeping and websiting.
5) Ceci has been gallavanting about New England, concurrently performing things to the audience of tax office and generally roping us all together so that we don't fall over.
6) Persons aside, we had a long haul preparing the NEW SET of 8 smashing NEW BOOKS but they're now with the printers and we're now able to sleep again, except for Gav, who usually manages to sleep while simultaneously geeking out on his Mac anyway.
7) It's true, we've a new set of 8 books. They have spines! They have new-style covers! They're coming soon!
8) (Four adult titles, we might add, and four children's.)
9) We took a visit to Dartington Hall in Devon, to perform some brilliance at the Way With Words literary festival. Here we met numerous other small presses who were super champs and lots of people who weren't ever vulgar but in fact lovely and well-wishing. Maria Donovan read from Tea for Mr. Dead and Confidence and Sam the Editor sections from The Greengrocer's Apostrophe and Out of Love. We gave away loads of leaflets and sold numerous books and garnered happy interest and tried to discover secrets that didn't involve being a) funded or b) already minted. So quite -- if a donor's out there, wishing both to love us and pay us then please, email or kiss us.
Be sure to check the website for new competition details and DON'T FORGET TO WEAR SUN CREAM.
Cheerio!
Matt.
The reasons for not updating the blog are as follows:
1) Matt developed a strange affliction that mostly attached his hands to removable furniture for about a week, furthermore to an internet-less computer and further still to Adobe Indesign's facilities for typesetting NEW BOOKS.
2) The Editor, for whom dignity involves being called Sam, has been making boxes in which to transport books by turning another box inside out to start with. She's also been making phone-calls, answering phone-calls and critiquing. And critiquing. And indeed critiquing.
3) That in this period of time throughout which Matt procrastinates, Sam's neck makes funny noises.
4) Gav has been websiting, gambling in Las Vegas, sleeping and websiting.
5) Ceci has been gallavanting about New England, concurrently performing things to the audience of tax office and generally roping us all together so that we don't fall over.
6) Persons aside, we had a long haul preparing the NEW SET of 8 smashing NEW BOOKS but they're now with the printers and we're now able to sleep again, except for Gav, who usually manages to sleep while simultaneously geeking out on his Mac anyway.
7) It's true, we've a new set of 8 books. They have spines! They have new-style covers! They're coming soon!
8) (Four adult titles, we might add, and four children's.)
9) We took a visit to Dartington Hall in Devon, to perform some brilliance at the Way With Words literary festival. Here we met numerous other small presses who were super champs and lots of people who weren't ever vulgar but in fact lovely and well-wishing. Maria Donovan read from Tea for Mr. Dead and Confidence and Sam the Editor sections from The Greengrocer's Apostrophe and Out of Love. We gave away loads of leaflets and sold numerous books and garnered happy interest and tried to discover secrets that didn't involve being a) funded or b) already minted. So quite -- if a donor's out there, wishing both to love us and pay us then please, email or kiss us.
Be sure to check the website for new competition details and DON'T FORGET TO WEAR SUN CREAM.
Cheerio!
Matt.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
