Skip to main content

Adventures In Time And Weather





Knots in my shoulders, spots before my eyes, I know not day from night, I cradle my coffee with obligated love. 
Oh my gods, do look at this house! There's a family in here somewhere...
After the feverish edits, I have pushed the publish button, I am done with it!
Except for that last convalescent push, where you need to inform people that you have published a book, and wonder if they would care to part with money in order to read it. 
Least favourite bit, the sales pitch, which is either because I am monstrous enough to believe that readers should all ready be queuing up, or because it feels like begging; either way, pride is the obstacle. 
I will go outside now, get some gardening done, reflect on nurturing seeds.

Here are some links for buying paperbacks - ebook edits are to be resumed when dark falls and coffee supplies are in...

Comments

Geo. said…
I have visited the USA site and read sample pages. You are remarkable. But I knew that. Best of fortune with your beautiful work. Is there an address for a signed copy? I have no online bank account but would pay postage etc.
2 March 2016 at 04:01
Lisa Southard said…
Email me at lisa@blackbeltbooks.com
We will format a plan! Might have to be postal alas, would prefer just to pop over with my favourite pen :-) x
2 March 2016 at 11:03
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

A Glitch Or Two

My Chromebook has been crumbling. It seems a little like dementia, this inability to upgrade its powers of communication, it makes me sad, even for an object. It's one of the reasons my posts here have been put aside, that and generally being tumbled by tiredness. I have saved up money for a replacement, also I have spent that money on trees and shrubs. I have two novels to sort out however, and this will be the reason I save up again. I don't stop writing, even if I don't tell anyone. In the meantime should you need a calm place to go, I have begun a substack account. Please do drop by. If the kettle crumbles we can make tea (or soup) on the firepit. Me on substack:  Lisa Southard
Post a Comment
Read more