'another excellent ebook'

We've been a bit unbloggerly lately. However, a burst of enthusiasm for the medium (the coloured pencils, the rat) was kindled by firm praise for The Linen Way appearing on Library Thing: … a very moving personal memoir by a poet whose work drew the praise and admiration of such great poets as Derek Walcott and Joseph Brodsky …

… another excellent ebook from New Zealand's Rosa Mira Books, whose adventurous publishing programme includes writers from the US and Argentina as well as New Zealand. 

The reviewer is author and poet Tim Jones who often makes generous salon-space for fellow writers on his site, Books in the Trees, including, recently, poet Saradha Koirala and (on sfsignal.com) SF Legend Award finalist, Helen Lowe.

Also of interest this week has been discussion with Ryan Christiansen of Knuckledown Press, a 'small Midwestern literary press' on a similar scale and with similar aspirations to Rosa Mira Books. We're looking for ways to draw more readers. Doing this kind of thing, for example. Do go and check out their enticing list of ebooks.

If only Ratty would get on with his job.

Five things needed for Christmas

 In the southern hemisphere, the working year is drawing to an end. In a few days, New Zealand will hang up its working habits and go en masse to the beach, the hills, the riverside or the backyard. The cities will become havens of quiet. Rosa Mira Books HQ has already taken to the countryside and the company of ducks, opportunistic rabbits, wheeling swallows and morning bellbirds. I'm pretty sure I saw the rat, too, down by the pond, looking for a chance to pinch the duck's pellets.

Talking of ducks, I came across another delectable small Australian publisher which is to put out "an artisan set of Sue Woottons’s poems, hand printed by Canberra hand press printer Caren Florance of Ampersand Duck, forthcoming in early 2013".

The Happiest Music on Earth is being formatted. All digits are crossed that this will be a straightforward conversion so that it's ready before Christmas. Or even for Christmas. I had trouble writing 'for Christmas'. Possibly Ratty would have no such scruples, but I believe that what's needed 'for Christmas' is calm space, warm companionship, meals and stories shared, and time for contemplation of the good that's in the world and how each of us can add to it.

On the other hand, I reckon that Rosa Mira's ebooks add to the good that's in the world, especially if they're read. And enjoyed. And shared. An ebook for Christmas, anyone?

Running up the flagpole

Ratty's been a little subdued and thoughtful of late. He was full of confidence when he first became Rosa Mira Books' Sales Department, but for all his panache (and somewhat distracted by fatherhood) he realises he has to find some way to grab the attention of thus-far-unsuspecting thousands of readers of RM's exceptional ebooks. 

However, he woke up this morning with 'a brilliant idea'. He'll erect a flagpole that will soar high above the kerfuffle and hubbub of all other human (or rodent or dasypodidae) endeavour. Creatures great and small will gaze up in wonder as they try to decipher the colourful emblems rippling in the jetstream.

With no abiding confidence in her husband's woodworking skill, Lily deemed it best to take the ratadilloes away to the river for a picnic. She's left Ratty's lunch on a tray, including the last gherkin on the jar, and a tankard of kefir yeast drink.

As he works, Ratty mutters under his breath like a mantra the names of the lovely ebooks he'll hoist into the ethers: The Glass Harmonica. Road Markings. Slightly Peculiar Love Stories.

Rat on ice

I'm a happy rat.

To make your own ice rink, pop a bowl of soup in the freezer overnight. Take it out next morning and pull on your skates.

 Rosa Mira eBooks are half price for another three days. Following the next purchase, I'll introduce you to my girlfriend.
 

Spring at 46 degrees south

Anyone for afternoon tea? You'll think I'm always taking tea or drawing. That's not entirely true. But I've found that drawing (with a nice cup of tea) keeps my 'play' battery charged, and makes every challenging thing look more possible, interesting, and even fun.

(The silly thing is, at this high tea last week, we were all too preoccupied with giving speeches, or with not rustling and crunching while others did, that the whole gorgeous edifice remained more-or-less decorative. I did make the bubbles go down, silently. And the rose-vanilla tea.)

Anyway, as we all wait for the next book to appear on the ebookshelf (as soon as Author and Publisher have signed our contract this week, I'll let you know what it is — although there's a heap of minor editing, proof-reading, design elements yet to be applied before you see the book itself — anyone looking for small skill-swapping-type work?) . . . where was I? . . . while we wait, I thought I'd like to exploit one or two more gadgets on this blogspot and make a blog and website roll, starting with you Rosa Mira followers. Some of your blogs or websites I know well, but I'd be glad for any of you to let me know your URL, and I'll start putting some in place.

Meanwhile, two beautiful ebooks . . . well, languish is, I feel, putting it a little harshly, but heck, anyone who has the means to read them, should be diving into The Glass Harmonica (it's spring in the southern hemisphere; this is a book to get your juices rising apace) or delving into the eccentric wonders of Slightly Peculiar Love Stories.

Not to make anyone feel guilty. The world is full of wonderful reading matter. It's a matter of finding it. But Rosa Mira Books is not a bad place to start.

How bizarre, how bizarre

I'm back on my laptop (I'm going to think up a suitable name for him/her, too — one that signals a sensitive but resilient nature, and a certain tolerance for water — any ideas?). Despite a quote (from Auckland because Dunedin is overloaded with ailing Macs) for fixing $4000 worth of 'liquid' damage to my $1600 model, my lap companion evidently decided it would rather come home and behave nicely than be scrapped.

I have to say that its malaise closely resembled my own at the time — the whirring fan that, like my head, was all noise and no traction; the X on the battery symbol; the 'something wrong' with the hard drive. I have to say that it gave me time to recuperate and consider my working habits (work when I'm working, play when I'm playing and quit the fretting); the need for creative time; the need to do a comprehensive back-up now; and time to consider Rosa Mira Books' chief objective: to become deft (and a little quicker) in the production of exceptional ebooks — which means looking for ways to travel more like an arrow than an articulated truck. Figuring out what's essential and what's not.  I have to say I'm grateful. And will be taking neither the laptop's vigour nor my own for granted.

Thanks and hugs go out to all — writers, followers, friends and family, who have been so supportive in spite of it all, and without whom this project would be a) impossible and b) pointless.

This week I came upon some helpful tips for digital dummies like me:

1. If you use iBooks, or other reading app, on your iPad/Pod/Phone, do notice if there are updates (red dots) available for it on the app icon of your iPad/Pod/Phone, and download them. Makes all the difference to the layout, as it turns out in the case of Slighty Peculiar Love Stories. 

2. SLPS writer, Salman, sent me this nifty feature:  as he says, 'If you use Firefox, you can add this and read epub directly.' It's not refined in its features, but is a very quick way to open an epub document.

3. Less a helpful tip than a celebration of beautiful web design, and a chance to have your own: check out Sue Wootton's web page (and drool, poets). She writes, 'I recommend Doug Lilly. He's started to specialise in arts/writing/creative people's sites, at very reasonable rates.'

Okay, there's no reason now not to release Slightly Peculiar Love Stories in the middle of next week. I have a day in mind and will confirm it with details here, there, and everywhere as soon as I get the okay from my techie.

Shall we have a nice cup of tea in the meantime?

It is warmer

Up here north of Auckland you can swim in the sea without gasping, even in April. Then you can walk back to the cottage you're house-sitting and go on with your work, swivelling often to take in the sky's drama played out on the sea.

Two generous people I want to mention before we go off to yet-another beach: Emma of Snowblog is giving away "two whitepapers on eBooks: how to create and how to sell". I'm always on the lookout for new hints and tips so big thanks to Emma who's a publisher at Snowbooks: "a feisty, award-winning independent book publisher" in the UK.

Danielle Wright has done a sterling job here in NZ publicising Rosa Mira Books and the launch of The Glass Harmonica. It hasn't been an easy road, since NZers are only slowly finding their way to digital reading, and then there was the earthquake, shoving weeks' worth of news aside. Anyway she has a new website and you can check out what she has to offer on The Wright Press.

Valentine's Day, filming and afrolicking

We're busy today, those of us who have to do with Rosa Mira Books, and The Glass Harmonica. There have been exciting goings-on in the last few weeks. Two of Dorothee's friends, Melissa Bond (her stunning website) and Joe Totten, both of Utah, collaborated with my brother Hugh Todd of Sydney (some of you might recall him as a very youthful ODT cartoonist in the '80s) to produce an electrifying animated Valentine's Day card. Do check it out — and may you experience a rich variety of love today.

And here it is on Youtube if you want to share it around.

On the same page as the card, you'll see another thrilling newcomer: the video trailer for Dorothee Kocks's novel. This has likewise been a labour of love, in this case by Dorothee's cousin, film-maker Jakob Wehrmann in Berlin. You can check it out on Youtube, too — The Glass Harmonica: A Sensualist's Tale — and do cast your eye over the credits to see what a delectable collaboration it has been.

Meanwhile, Dorothee's been writing up a storm concerning sex in early America. All was not as it seems.

Here we are in September

Sorry to keep you waiting, dear readers, but I'm back.  More fun if I turned up on screen wind-tousled, pink-cheeked and breathless, looking as if I'd been up to mischief, but really I'm flat-bummed and poker-faced from long editing hours. Nevertheless I am happy! Dorothee's novel The Glass Harmonica: A Sensualist's Tale is fabulous: heartfelt, moving, wise, and crackling with energy. My appreciation deepens with scrutiny. Phew. That's always a relief — to find a story dense with life, down through its layers. The 'cover' Christine painted is glorious (scare quotes because I reckon we need a new name for the icon that announces the ebook — any ideas?) and my mother is proof reading it. I love to think of her reviving her lifelong but under-used critical capacity; I guess I received the editing gene from her. And maybe the more sweeping, intuitive engagement with story from my dad.

I've asked Hugh if the site could please go live in October — my birthday present, perhaps. And the novel will be launched a month later. Soon I'll be able to apply myself to the Slightly Peculiar Love Stories and their patient authors. I'm thinking about a typographic 'cover' for that anthology. (Is that the term for a plain cover with slightly peculiar lettering on it?) Know anyone talented with text?

Meanwhile, droves of people are buying, or thinking of buying, or fervently resisting buying, devices on which to read ebooks. I still haven't decided which model I'll choose.

How then shall we read?

I'm like most people older than, what, 20? 30? 45? who imagine they would rather read from a book any day than from a reading device. But what if that device closely resembled a book in texture, weight and palpability?

In spite of the fact that I'm intent on producing ebooks, I haven't warmed to any of the devices I've met so far, in life or (more largely) on screen. They seem a bit, well, forgive me, but, blokey. I mean designed by blokes. Unlike the men I know, they are hard, cold and rigid. If you caught them on the corner of the table they'd go clack.

I suspect that in a year or few, most of us will own more than one device on which to read ebooks. Prices will have plunged. One of those (come with me a moment on my small ereader fantasy) is the one we'll take with us to the beach, to the bath, to bed, to the sunny corner or the fireside — anywhere we wish to read undisturbed by incoming emails, skype bloops, or the flicker of the newest blog. It will come to be known as 'my book', and it will be just that, and 'my library'. A thousand books in one.

'My book' will be bendy; as light as a small paperback; of a size to be tucked into a handbag or jacket pocket. The cover (of a firm, fleshy texture) will be perfused with the cover of the novel/poetry volume/biography I am currently reading.  Alternately it will have an imperishable suede-like cover in, say, indigo or crimson.  When you catch 'my book' on the side of the table, it will go thugh.

What do you want, if we say that digital reading is an inevitability? What would be your device of choice? Connected or disconnected? Large or small, hard or soft, personal or impersonal?

If we dream strongly enough and talk longingly enough about the perfect reading device, about 'my book', someone will be compelled to go and create it. Won't they?

Now if it's given you an ache simply pondering the brave new world of ebooks, go and read Tim Jones's poignant little story, ironically online, on his blogsite of the same name, Books in the Trees.

Genesis

It's two years since I woke one night, as clear-minded as I've ever been, and understood that I would begin in the coming years to publish, promote and sell ebooks. (One day I'll tell you the whole story.) Recently I came across the words of Russian poet and mystic Daniel Andreev that spoke of the kind of writing that draws me, into which I will put my energy, work that bears

          the mark of talent and at least one of the following: a sense of beauty, broad scope, profundity of thought, sharpness of insight, purity of heart, or a joyful spirit  alongside a keen awareness of the world's darker depths.

The website is under construction. The first manuscript is being edited: The Glass Harmonica: A Sensualist's Tale —  a joyous and lyrical novel set between Corsica, Paris, and New England in the late 18th century — by Dorothee Kocks of Utah. We're planning an October launch. I'm currently considering stories from NZ and abroad for the second title Slightly Peculiar Love Stories.

There, I've begun to talk about Rosa Mira Books. Please visit when you can, and let's discuss this burgeoning new world of digital publication. I'll talk about the challenges it brings to me. I'll throw out questions and be as transparent as I can about the steps in the process — often bewildering and sometimes lonely, until recently. Clarity has reappeared, allies are gathering, and now I'm throwing open the door.

Welcome.