I have a new book out on Kindle which is a first for me, as it is non-fiction. The subject matter may interest some on here,, though, as it is about cycle touring. I have taken my logs from three tours and edited them to better fit the narrative, so it will come across as very 'jerky', but that is a feature.
The three tours are:
Around Western Australia
From Hoek in Holland up to the edge of the Norwegian border with Sweden
From Munich along the Danube to Budapest and then around Hungary
My nineteenth book has just hit the virtual shelves. It is, of course, the compilation of NYE competition stories from this site, with a few tweaks--surprisingly few, in fact.
Just got home from hospital. Ten days ago I stepped out to the end of my street to catch a bus, and then my lungs decided not to cooperate. I collapsed, pulled out my phone and made a hash of trying to call an ambulance. Fortunately, another woman stopped to see if I was okay, took over the call and stayed with me till the ambulance had loaded me on board.
That was ten days ago, as noted above. The cause was a large blood clot in my pulmonary artery.
Last year, and again this year, I was doxxed, including my photo, by some 'big names' in organised transphobia. One of the bigots took a video of a talk I gave to a charity, as well as the 'Look inside!" free preview on Amazon of my first book, and 'interpreted' all of it as sexual fetishism. Everything I do is done because I am a pervert: when I brush my teeth, it is because I [insert bizarre and unhinged explanation]
Rather puzzled here. Just went to sort out some more of a story, and all of my posts seem to have disappeared. The framework is there, and the comments, but no stories.
I have had nothing but grief from Amazon/Kindle over publishing the latest book. What really grates is that it is entirely done by automated message.
Their gripe is that my writing is still here, and therefore I 'do not hold copyright'. As an attempt to break the routine of their bots, I have therefore removed the contents of the stories in the new book. If it works, great, and I shall then try and restore them here.
The work this morning to enable that was further interrupted, first by a Micro**** auto update, and then by a power cut.
I had some unexpected time off the weekend before Hallowe'en, so I started looking for somewhere to go. It was for a number of reasons, one of which is agoraphobia of an odd kind. I spent uite a while off sick with some really nasty life-threatening stuff at the end of 2019, which has had a profound impact on my health, and that was of course followed by Covid0related lockdown. Normally, I would spend a lot of my time travelling all over the UK delivering awareness sessions and training regarding trans and intersex people, but that simply stopped dead.
Puzzled. I now have ten chapters of 'Rainbows///' up, and for some reason Chapter 10 is being sorted between Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. Any ideas, hive mind?
I set a fictional semi-monastic retreat in this place, where my character Ambrose lived and cared for Angharad, Elaine's mother-in-law in 'Sisters'.
I then read a series of comic fantasies by Heide Goody and Iain Grant, where a monastery was set on the same island, with a monk called Ambrose... spooky
Lifeline continues, as can be seen from today's post. I am also working on the sequel, 'Broken Wings', which is a few thousand words along so far. There may be an issue.
Work has taken me to quite a few places over the last ten days, including Weymouth, Liverpool and York. I spent a little while in the last city looking at the spot where I sat Susie Lockwood, waiting to slide into the river, and where I once pulled an old man out in real life before writing him into my novel "A Longer War".
Well, that is the Shrewsbury festival over for another year; source of so much of my inspiration. Some wonderful music, old friends popping out of the woodwork, and very sore fingertips on my left hand. Last year I played so much and so enthusiastically I snapped a plectrum; this year, I just broke a string on the last evening.
Already planning next year! I will try to remember to print off all my train tickets this time, rather than just the cycle reservations...
The Job is now going through Amazon's machinery and will be available in the next couple of days, assuming all goes right. It can be found by searching on Amazon (using the BCTS links) under Sussex border stories. Clicking on my author name once there (S.A.A. Calvert) brings up my author page with the rest of my books.
Well, time for a decision. I was asked, quite sensibly, if that was the last chapter of The Job. It is an obvious place to end, and a scene I loved writing, but Diane still has a long way to go. So...
Do I continue writing this as one book?
Do I split it and start another book, continuing the story, as I did with 'Ride On' and 'Too Little, Too Late'?
Any sensible ideas for a title if I make the split? I have some already.
Some years ago, I cycled through a remote part of Western Australia, meeting a lovely man, an ecologist called Gary. I put him into my book 'Cold Feet'. Tonight, by chance, I saw him again, in a wilderness programme on ITV. Enjoy, if you can see it. It really captures the land I wrote through, and Ray Mears, unlike the pillock and egomaniac Bear Ghrylls, comes across as a lovely man. https://www.itv.com/hub/australian-wilderness-with-ray-mears...
The latest offering is now up on Kindle. Search for Sisters, with the author name S.A.A. Calvert. It should also come up under 'Sussex Border Stories' in a couple of days.
Following superb work by Julia P I have just finished amending the formatted manuscript she provided (some other errors I had already seen, plus a couple of revisions, as well as copyright, 'other books by', etc) and now published it on Kindle. It will take a day or three to surface, but it will be along in short order. Remember that this site provides links to Amazon that earn commission.
This coming weekend sees the Manchester Sparkle event, written of by Bev Taff a few times. I will be there from Saturday afternoon as I will be working on one of their 'market stalls' all Sunday for my support network.
I am coming to the end of another book, and it is triggering all sorts of thoughts about my life. I went through transition some years ago, from a hairy rugby-playing 'bloke' with a beard to a plump woman with bobbed hair and a taste for print dresses. I went up to York a week ago, for what used to be the Cyclists' Touring Club's annual rally, and I rediscovered myself.
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