Category: Bestseller Authors

There’s A New Villain In Book Land, And It’s An Old One

There’s A New Villain In Book Land, And It’s An Old One

Having spent most of this year looking for who is to blame for the state of today’s book market and the lamentable fate of authors, nobody was more surprised than me to find out that I was at least partly responsible. Still, thankfully you can’t prove anything these days, least of all my arguments.

Advertisements

There Are No New Stories, So You May As Well Steal The Old Ones

Is Amazon Changing The Way We Write Books, As Well As How We Buy Them?

It’s harder than ever to get published by writing original fiction. So why bother? Why not just reimagine a proven bestseller with a tweak of genre, or a change of setting, and call it your own? If it works in politics…

So how about writing The Bourne Identity as a lifestyle thriller set in IKEA? What if fans of Stephen King wanted to see his take on YA Romance? Would The Hunger Games work as a diet book?

What To Lie About Reading This Summer

What To Lie About Reading This Summer

Holiday reading lists are ridiculous. They are lists of books people haven’t read yet, and therefore full of books people won’t ever actually read. Authors are particular culprits, promoting their own books by lying about their intentions to read those written by other people. But are the rest of us mortal folk missing out on a trick? Not being quoted in newspapers doesn’t mean we can’t also go around lying about what we’re reading this summer. Why should authors have all the fun?

Unbelievable New Tax Reforms For Writers in Ireland

Yup. That’s what I said, folks. Unbelievable. The Irish government issued its annual budget on Tuesday. In it, there were plenty of teeny-tiny measures to please almost everybody just a teeny-tiny bit, but nothing targeted at the artistic community, or at writers in particular. I reckon the government missed a trick here (particularly if, as I suspect, every second…

Life, Books, and Everything

There was no blogging to be had last week, because there was nothing I could write about. Sometimes things happen in real life which make pretty much everything else pointless.  It seems to me that writing, or indeed the making of any art, might be helpful for understanding the human condition, but only after you’ve already understood it. It’s no good at…