Although I knew March’s Insecure Writer’s Support Group post was approaching, I’ve continued to have eye problems, which have made it hard to write or even clear my emails. So, I’ve delayed the next episode of my Ukraine saga, Freedom Flights.
Slava Ukraini
Heroiam slava!
Since my January IWSG post, I’ve been posting Fevered Fuse, the first of my Snowdon Shadows novels featuring Sparkle Anwyl, in serial form. Links to each post can be found via my updated Snowdon Shadows page on the left-hand sidebar. However, I’m postponing the next chapter for the same health reasons and, vainly, hoping for more feedback on my recent post, Serialise or Submit? My Recurring Dilemma.
However, I realise, after reading this invaluable post, that I’ve become appalling at visiting other writers’ sites. So, why should they visit me? Health could be a reason for my non-involvement, but there are others as well. I seem to have too little time and too many commitments… or is checking up on news from Ukraine and now Iran a distraction?
Before I answer this month’s question, some of you may be wondering about the strange post title, Space Lunch. In fact, the file is called ‘Space Launch’. Alongside my eye strain, I also have a keyboard that’s misbehaving, typing too many letters or missing them. I try using dictation software, but it also makes ‘misssteaks’ I must correct.
Yet Space Lunch sounds intriguing.
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Every month, IWSG announces a question that members can answer in their IWSG posts. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience, or a story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say.
Remember, the question is optional!
March 4 question – What elements do you include in your book launch? Or what do you have in mind for your future book launch? Or what advice do you have to offer to others planning to launch a book?
Until I have another ready for release, my only published novel, Spiral of Hooves, remains my only launch. Initially, with the Kindle release on Monday, December 9th, 2013, by Spectacle Publishing, I concentrated on contributing posts to the website of other Spectacle authors whose books were released at the same. We also reciprocated by posting on each other’s sites.
Released on Monday, August 7th, 2017, the second edition was a chance to try a different approach with an online release day gathering involving author friends, one of whom, a published mystery writer, provided an endorsement for the back cover. I encouraged the other writers to talk about their writing and books. There were also competitions with prizes, including autographed copies of the novel.
Whenever I get to launch another novel, I’ll probably repeat the online book launch gathering, but I’ve seen more authors doing extensive book tours, including visits to other writers’ blogs for interviews or to post there.
I would advise fellow writers to look to more successful published writers than me, for instance, Jacqui Murray, author of the popular prehistoric fiction saga, Man vs. Nature. Her latest book in the saga, Balance of Nature, has just been released. In 2019, I joined her tour for Book 2 in the Crossroads trilogy, the second part of her engrossing saga.
So, Space Lunch is still intriguing. Any thoughts on what it is or where it’s being held or performed? Answers on a postcard or in the comments, please.
Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG, and our hashtag is #IWSG.
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group Day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer – aim for a dozen new people each time – and return comments. This group is all about connecting!
Apologies for the delay in posting anything. Health issues, so the doctor upped a medicine, and now pain has been replaced by drowsiness. So, posting this has been difficult.
I was intending to post the next part ofFevered Fuse, but I began to wonder what effect that would have on my publishing rights. Although I’m posting on my own website, it seems a publisher is likely to consider that excerpt too long and therefore ‘published’. That means I’ve given up my First Publication Rights.
Or have I?
I’ve already posted 13,000 words, which is about 18% of the novel’s total word count. The percentage some say might be acceptable is 5-10%, which I’ve exceeded already. However, although I have over 900 subscribers, the most ‘Likes’ I’ve received is 8, which is 0.9%. So, surely posting Fevered Fuse chapters has yet to dent future sales.
Nevertheless, before the novel is submitted, it would be advisable to change anything I post online, or instead I could explain in my submission letter that few people read those chapters.
Unless I switch focus onto revising Fates Maelstrom, which follows in chronological order from Fevered Fuse in the Snowdon Shadows series, and which one beta reader felt had a stronger opening in the first three chapters, so far.
I realise I decided to serialise after the responses to my January IWSG post, though I didn’t fully understand the consequences. Does anybody have any further comments?
Do my eight plus faithful readers want me to continue the serialisation of Fevered Fuse? An alternative is that I send a copy of the current draft to anyone as if they were beta readers. If you would like that, post a request with your email address in the Contact section.
The following are the posts I referred to, although opinions vary on the pros and cons:
Although I knew February’s Insecure Writer’s Support Group post was approaching, I’ve been having eye problems, which have made it hard to clear my writing desk. So, I’ve delayed the next episode of my Ukraine saga, Freedom Flights.
Slava Ukraini
Heroiam slava!
Since my January IWSG post, I’ve been posting Fevered Fuse, the first of my Snowdon Shadows novels featuring Sparkle Anwyl, in serial form. Links to each post can be found via my updated Snowdon Shadows page on the left-hand sidebar.
**
Every month, IWSG announces a question that members can answer in their IWSG posts. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience, or a story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say.
Remember, the question is optional!
February 4 question – Many writers have written about the experience of rereading their work years later. Have you reread any of your early works? What was that experience like for you?
First Snow on Snowdon ~ Juanita Clarke
After my number one reader, Rebecca Douglass, gave the opening three chapters of ‘Fates Maelstrom’ her seal of approval, I continued to revise what was originally the first of the Snowdon Shadows series, until various Sparkle Anwyl shorts evolved into ‘Fevered Fuse’, now chronologically first.
As a result, I reread the other draft books in the series to see whether they matched the openers. A worthwhile exercise, especially as they don’t follow events in the first two books. Otherwise, my reaction was a mixture of surprise at how my writing had changed, surprise at some of my plot twists, and uneasiness over how much needed reworking. One common element, even in the draft of ‘Fates Maelstrom’ I’m revising, is Sparkle’s relationships with romantic partners.
In ‘Fevered Fuse’, someone emerges who should be in every sequel but isn’t. Yet I created that special someone in a short story after drafting those other novels, and since I’ve made them a central character alongside Sparkle. Instead, there will be rivals for Sparkle’s affection, demanding I change the plot in the other books to retain their role
Last year, I also reread drafts of other novels. It was interesting, as there were a few of them that I regretted abandoning, when another idea dragged me in a new direction. Some were written for NaNoWriMo; others were developed as sequels to earlier drafts. The aim was not just to see if my writing had improved, as I still don’t feel it has. But ultimately, I needed to decide which novel to focus on, given my age and health. Today, bedbound with a fractured leg, aching back, stomach pains, and multiple sclerosis & CLL, any time feels precious.
Although my decision is made – Fates Maelstrom – there were two close contenders. ‘Tortuous Terrain’, the US-based sequel to my only published novel, Spiral of Hooves, but, despite the plotline, the lack of sales and mixed reviews for Spiral of Hooves deterred me.
The other was my Alternative History, Eagle Crossing, which grew out of the question, “What would have happened if Leif Eriksson had settled Vinland permanently in 1000 AD?”, spawning a short story, then the draft novel and its related Viking Age history from 1000-2020. Maybe another short story is possible.
Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG, and our hashtag is #IWSG.
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group Day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer – aim for a dozen new people each time – and return comments. This group is all about connecting!
Apologies for the delay in posting the next two chapters. I’ve been juggling life problems and writing my latest Freedom Flights episode. Once that was posted on Thursday, I could schedule this post.
In Chapter One, Sparkle thinks about creating a ‘mnemonic’, which I am changing to an ‘acronym’ to be more accurate, although an acronym is a type of mnemonic
I would like to know how often you would like me to post, for instance, three times a week? I realise daily might be too much, whereas weekly breaks the flow.
That is more of a problem if I post short segments. So, second question: what’s the best length? Under 300 words? Around 1,000 words? This time, Chapter Two is 264 words – similar to Chapter One. Chapter Three is 1,706 words, which might be too long. However, there are longer chapters that I’ll have to post in parts to make them more readable.
Your feedback will be much appreciated. Many thanks.
Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.
*
FEVERED FUSE
A Snowdon Shadows Mystery
by
Roland Clarke
(Police Procedural Fiction)
**
Chapter Two
Speed Kills
Monday 11th July 2011
Lime-green is not cool. I’m resolute. Well, I try to be.
I wanted a Kawasaki Ninja, even if it wasn’t black. My scooter bored me. Will this blood-red Aprilia motorbike satisfy me instead?
B for Blood not Black. OK.
Speed is the addiction to drive away my frustrations.
But my tad says speed’s another killer he must curb. It’s his job.
I soar around a bend, then open the Aprilia’s throttle down the last straight towards Tremadog. The distinctive blue and yellow markings lurking behind a stone wall warn me and I slow – Heddlu.
I can’t have Sergeant Anwyl’s North Wales Police colleagues reporting his daughter for speeding. Seventeen is never an excuse. I must evade a first offence. Bad career move.
The town is busy, although not heaving like nearby Porthmadog which draws the tourists now the warmth of summer has banished the rain for a few days. Reason to avoid going that way and getting held up. I have a better way to save time. No marks for getting to college late.
The main road north is busy, and I wait for my chance to dive across the roundabout, then cut through to the coastal road along the Llyn Peninsula.
Control the speed. Other adrenaline boosts will come. Time to negotiate traffic.
The shadow of the railway bridge looms. As I slow for the roundabout beyond, a brick dislodges.
It falls. I swerve – into the ditch.
Instinct causes me to smash my bike. Tumbling. Alive.
Sheep bleating. Ewes and lambs. Whistles. Commands to dogs.
A distant tractor.
A farm. Familiar and hovering at the edge of my mind.
Smells are an elusive clue. Blossom scents drift in on the cool breeze. Baking bread tempts my nostrils and stirs my stomach. Clean laundry spoilt by sweat – mine.
So hungry. How long have I been unconscious? Or asleep?
Finally, vision. Shafts of sunlight creeping across a wooden floor. Towards the bed with its blood red sheets – wrinkled and tossed off. Embossed bracer undisturbed on my wrist. Black nightdress not hiding the bruises. Superficial. So, something protected me. Motorcycle leathers and a helmet.
As I stir, the nightdress rides up revealing a spiral seashell tattoo on my right hip. Hidden, unlike the red briar roses on my right arm and ankle.
When did I get so many?
But facts fragment like a mirror crashing without end. Like my motorbike tumbling in pieces.
Use that last memory. Bad move as my head throbs. But the accident is an anchor in a storm of memories.
I shuffle the sounds and smells into order.
Home. Well, at the family farm in Snowdonia. Mam must be cooking.
What meal?
The light on the floor suggests middle of the day – lunch?
Once she’s finished home schooling my chwaer. Lack of hearing hasn’t dulled my sister’s mind, and Gwawr has ambitions. Sign language and lip-reading have taught the family to adjust to her world without sound – to understand more.
My problems dissolve to nothing in comparison.
Was the accident connected?
I’ve been confused for years about who I am. My identity as a girl. Is that why I was attacked? If it was targeted bricks on the edge of my vision – edge of my memory?
Concussion causes memory loss, but enough remains.
Revenge. Mine or theirs? I’m presuming it was an attack. Wasn’t it?
Who by? Names taunt out of reach.
Get dressed. Food might trigger clarity.
I open my wardrobe and clues tumble out. Black clothes – tick. Long sleeve wetsuit – tick. Doc Martens – tick. Scuffed motorcycle leathers.
Why aren’t I in hospital? I should have been taken to one.
Why am I hearing lambs in mid-summer? Spring?
How many months have I skipped?
A wall calendar tells me. Five years.
What have I lost? Missed?
I want answers even if my mind won’t co-operate.
Who gave me the extra tattoos? The spiral seashell on my hip makes my heart race. Why?
Choosing the right gear is not hard. Bomber jacket the final touch over a T-shirt. Doc Martens setting off the jeans and studded belt. All black. They trigger a reaction. I tap my bracer. A for Assault. B for Bike. R for Revenge.
A knock at my door derails the thought process.
I respond in Welsh. “Dewch i mewn.”
Nothing happens, even when I repeat “Come in” in English.
I open it. Stare at Gwawr. Or is it? She’s older. Not the pre-teen in my head, but a beautiful teenager. No longer our childhood protégé, but an attractive woman.
Bury the confusion.
Too late. She reads me so well.
I sign, “Head spin moment.”
“We were worried about you, cariad.”
Embrace her. Tears.
My last memory is not who I am. I’m not that speed-obsessed seventeen-year-old.
The gap in my head is a chasm of years.
Hide this turmoil. The holes will vanish.
“I sensed you were awake.” Her smile betrays concern. “Everyone will be pleased. We feared the worst. But we aren’t meant to give clues. Doctor’s orders.”
Standard procedure for amnesia.
How do I know that?
“Mam’s food always inspires me.” My observation impels Gwawr to link arms and lead me down the stairs, saying.
“Always my inquisitive sister.”
Mam is carrying a steaming pot to the wooden table by the kitchen. More names – more memories. Mam’s parents, my nain and taid, sit at either end of the farmhouse table.
Everyone looks at me and cries out.
“We prayed for you to wake.”
“We missed you.”
“Welcome back.”
Hugs and kisses for the resurrected.
“Let’s eat. I’m starving.” Mam’s vegetable soup is superb – thick and hearty. The bread, fresh and memory laden. “I can’t remember the last time I ate properly. Before I left for college?”
Years have passed, but I want a reaction – information.
“Is that your last memory?” Mam struggles to hold back her tears. “Anything else?”
I ensure I’m facing Gwawr as I speak. She’s mastered reading lips, if we enunciate clearly.
“I remember where I am. The family farm, Tyn-y-llyn. Tick – who you all are. And who I am. Yes, crashing my bike on the way to college is the most vivid image, even if some of the details have gone.”
Mam stands up. “I need to call Doctor Vaughan.”
“Is he the one treating my amnesia? If that helps us. I realise the accident must have been years ago. But it’s where my mind returns to.”
And there are fragments demanding attention as they drift on my periphery.
Why? The doctor might clarify – if he wants to.
Childhood memories. Another home.
Before the divorce. Did I cause the break-up? For the same reason I was attacked?
My identity.
But the speeding teenager on the bike isn’t me now.
“Did I smash up another bike?” Searching faces is better – sometimes – than asking simple questions. “That bridge over the A498 was the perfect spot for an assailant. I always slow there. Position myself for the roundabout—”
I’ve been there since. On another bike – a black Ninja.
“Taught by the best.”Gwawr signs the clue.
Who is the best? Motorcycle cops. Tad’s colleagues.
So, the accident had positive consequences – their help. Or was their involvement in place already?
More questions. More rabbit holes for my mind.
Nain and taid grasp each other’s hands – glance at me then each other. Shaking more than old age brings.
“Please, give me time. Everything is there.”
I stand. Touch my toes, then my nose.
Tap my bracer as my tattoos tingle a thought.
S for Siblings.
“Time to walk down to the lake. I have to swim.”
“Not in those clothes, cariad. You have—”
“A wetsuit upstairs. Thanks, nain.”
#
My skin remembers the fabric – warm, protective, close-fitting. Neoprene. Perfect for wild swimming in any weather.
I change, keeping the bracer on as usual.
Gwawr joins me in her suit. She brings towels in case the sun fails us.
We jog to the shimmering water, the llyn that gives our home its name. Generations of Pughs have worked these mountain pastures above the lake.
We lay the towels on rocks warming in the sun. I climb another rock and dive in. It was always safe here. Embraced by the water, the moorland, and the sky.
I dive deep, feet propelling and arms pulling. Breath retained, released slowly. Push for the far bank. It’s possible. Determination.
But something feels wrong. This isn’t the water I crave. No waves pounding the beach. I grab for a fleeting image, but it shatters leaving just a taste – sea salt.
Why?
The coast road to college in Pwllheli by the sea. Except I’m no longer that teenager.
I dive back into the freshwater. My sister a rippling shadow beside me.
My mind knows but teases me. Sidestep the jagged edges. Lateral game-play. The childhood quirk. Gwawr looks the same age as I was when I crashed. Seventeen with my life unclear. College awaiting a real vocation. Indecisive. Torn between parents. Sheep in my blood but an urge to help people.
C for Crafty and Curveball and Clues.
Gwawr will play by my rules. Not the doctor’s orders.
Back on the home shore, the chance to probe.
“How’s college? Better than mine was?”
She dries herself, humming melodically, then signs.
“My sneaky sister. Research will get me to Uni – history probably. I’m tempted by law. But potential clash. Any suggestions? Advice?”
Law sounds like tad’s calling – law keeper. Heddlu.
“Not farming then.” I glance at my hands. Not calloused enough to be a true Pugh. “None of us had Alwyn’s gift with machinery, except Uncle Ivor tinkering with the tractors.”
“And Owen serves by fighting fires. Uniforms don’t appeal to me. And you always were a fighter. The teenage champion outsmarting law and order. Age has never stopped you – or troublemakers.”
Encouragement to delve. Have I got time? Time is different for a historian than for police like tad. A fighter for justice. What do I believe is worth fighting for? Did I challenge tad? Or did I heed his example?
“For truth and justice – and the Welsh way of life. From sheep to streets. Never a dead end then.”
“Can I leave you, Sparkle? Until your doctor comes. I have an essay to write on the Enigma Code.”
I gesture back to the farmhouse and smile my agreement. Her clues have been enough triggers for my mind.
C for Cryptology as in the Enigma Code.
A for Assault. B for Bike. R for Revenge. S for Siblings.
CRABS
Acronyms – my mind triggers. The rivets on my wet bracer help. And the tattoos tingle with new thoughts.
A number tumbles through my brain. For what? Evidence 101.
BRACERS if E is for Evidence and a second R is for Risks and Riding.
Could tad have persuaded me to join the police? At 18? Could I stand the discipline? I’ve never conformed, even if chapel keeps me from straying too far. But I’ve taken risks – risked the censure of others.
Where did those risks take me? Was the accident the price I paid? Did someone attempt to stop me? Even try to kill me? I had enemies even then and earlier.
But murder seems extreme. Or did I deserve it? I was a target. I took risks and stood up for the underdog. Do I still? Or was that my lesson? A lesson that decided my fate and career.
I skim stones across the llŷn and shift focus, unleashing my mind.
Another month has slipped by, so it’s time for another Insecure Writer’s Support Group post. And yet another chance to reassess my writing strategy, and my life.
Although I’d shelved my Snowdon Shadows police procedural, Fevered Fuse, while I changed focus, that decision has been preying on my mind.
Is ‘Fevered Fuse’ something I need to rewrite to make it publishable? Is Sparkle Anwyl, its quirky lesbian detective, a minus? Is revising ‘Fates Maelstrom’, the second book in the series, a better use of my final time here? The two other titles of the series exist: No. 3 ‘Seeking a Knife’s first draft is half-written; No.4 ‘Ruined Retreat’s first draft was written in November 2017, for NaNoWriMo. Have I been wasting my time creating Sparkle Anwyl and her world? Did my beta-readers and my editor waste their precious time?
Please, does anyone have enough time to read even the first page or chapter of ‘Fevered Fuse’? If someone is really keen, she/he could read the first three chapters of ‘Fevered Fuse’ and ‘Fates Maelstrom’ to let me know if either is worth continuing with.
Maybe I need to skip both titles and revise ‘Ruined Retreat’. 😉
As for my Ukraine saga, Freedom Flights, I face different dilemmas. Will I finish writing the episodes before the war ends? More importantly for the people suffering, when will that end and with the just peace they deserve?
For the few still reading the episodes, including those clicking ‘Like’, I should post the second April 2025 episode later this week. Obviously, I’m still following the news from Ukraine and now the troubling news from Venezuela. Cuban Missile Crisis Mark 2, Trump version?
Slava Ukraini
Heroiam slava!
**
Every month, IWSG announces a question that members can answer in their IWSG posts. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience, or a story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say.
Remember, the question is optional!
November 5 question – When you began writing, what did you imagine your life as a writer would be like? Were you right, or has this experience presented you with some surprises along the way?
My first thought was, “A Sailor’s Life for me”, but then I remembered when I made my first scribblings and dreamt of “A Farmer’s Life for me”.
A decade later, after part-time work mowing lawns and mucking out horses in Canada, I entered the journalism world… as a lowly sub-editor in London, back home in the UK. Beyond subbing ‘Fishing Reports’ and short pieces in The Field magazine, I was gradually allowed to attend events that required brief reports. Finally, I wrote my first published full-page article, anywhere. It was also my first equestrian article, and about a place where I’d had a summer job, The All England Jumping Course, at Hickstead.
By then, I wanted to be a journalist, even returning briefly to Canada to cover the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair in Toronto, with interesting results, especially equestrian. Writing an article for the Canadian equestrian magazine The Corinthian on a major British event should have been my breakthrough as a journalist, as should have been my brief time at a Journalism College.
However, a series of events turned me into an equestrian photographer, then an organic fresh produce wholesaler, to green campaigner, and a video producer.
I’ve never stopped scribbling, even before my job at ‘The Field’. In my teens, I was already penning short stories, mainly science fiction and fantasy. While at my finishing school in Canada, I produced an SFF fanzine called ‘Mind Sphere’ and received my first and only physical rejection letter.
In my late thirties, I was briefly the editor of the Socialist Environment and Resources Association’s journal, New Ground, and wrote a few articles. Almost two decades after my first foray into journalism, I became a regular contributor to some equestrian magazines as a journalist and occasional photographer.
Dick Lane and his team of Lipizzaners at Brighton Driving Trials. Photo: Roland Clarke
While watching a show-jumping class at Olympia in London, the ideas for a plot took shape, and thirteen years later, my only published novel, Spiral of Hooves, was released.
My writing life hasn’t been straightforward, mainly because I’ve let myself be sidetracked. Finally, bedridden by multiple sclerosis, I should be able to focus on writing… one thing. Unfortunately, not, as I outlined last month.
Now, I have Sparkle Anwyl, my favourite character, vying withFreedom Flights, for my attention. The latter now dictates my life, but something tells me I need to keep ‘making hay while the sun shines’.
Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG, and our hashtag is #IWSG.
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group Day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer – aim for a dozen new people each time – and return comments. This group is all about connecting!
Another month has passed, so it’s time for another Insecure Writer’s Support Group post, and an opportunity to tweak my writing strategy.
First, it’s been over three months since I submitted my Snowdon Shadows police procedural, Fevered Fuse, to London-based publisher Joffe Books. As expected last month, I never received an answer, so that is a firm rejection. Their website says, ‘Do not be disheartened if you don’t hear from us. What is not right for us may be exactly what another publisher is seeking. We encourage you to look for other opportunities to publish elsewhere.’
I’m not disheartened, I’m just disappointed to wait three months for this rejection from my first choice. Months ago. I began checking out other publishers by listening to a few of their authors’ books, and I made a short wish-list of small publishers. The second on my list, based in New York, answers within two weeks (and the third, an LGBTQ+ publisher, in 16 weeks). Unfortunately, another UK small publisher only considers fiction from UK-based writers, not UK-based fiction.
However, before I submit ‘Fevered Fuse’ again, I need to know if the manuscript is unpublishable (as it stands). Or perhaps, I would be best to revise another novel, such as ‘Fates Maelstrom’, the second book in my Snowdon Shadows series, which reads better than ‘FF’. But not up to the same standard as the audiobooks I listen to.
I worry that I’m kidding myself about being a writer, even if I’ve just posted another episode of my Ukraine saga, Freedom Flights. If you manage to read Winter Warning, there’s a question to answer, but only if you want.
Obviously, I’m also still following the news from Ukraine.
Slava Ukraini
Heroiam slava!
**
Every month, IWSG announces a question that members can answer in their IWSG posts. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience, or a story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say.
Remember, the question is optional!
August 6 question – What is the most unethical practice in the publishing industry?
Therefore, this abuse of copyright and the reasoning behind it, training AI, must rank as the most insidious and unethical practice. Closely followed by using AI to write books, thus flooding the market at the expense of real writers, depriving them of income.
I don’t think it’s unethical, as I realise publishers are overstretched, but knowing why a manuscript is rejected would be helpful. I guess multiple rejections mean ‘time for me to write something different’. Or stick to reading a book. 😉
Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG, and our hashtag is #IWSG.
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group Day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer – aim for a dozen new people each time – and return comments. This group is all about connecting!
Writing Wings 