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Elevating a pitch
Today we’re delighted to welcome our newest member, Jo Reed, who has some great experience to share on the dreaded elevator pitch. At some time, every novelist comes up against the infamous ‘elevator pitch’. For those who haven’t encountered it yet, here’s the idea – you get into an elevator (that’s a lift to us…
Book launch and exhibition : Vice & Virtue, the history of Old Market
We may not have taken on any new group projects lately, but our members have been as busy as ever. Since last year Louise Gethin, has been proud to be involved in Vice and Virtue, an initiative exploring the history of Old Market with the book launch and exhibition happening on July 16th 2015 at Trinity…
Persistence and Passion: from Debz Hobbs-Wyatt
This week we’re delighted to welcome our first ever guest blogger, Debz Hobbs-Wyatt. We invited her because three of us, Gail, Shirley and Ali, all read her debut novel While No One Was Watching and all absolutely loved it. The book (Ali’s review is here) tells the story of what else might have happened in…
Short stories (1) – learning to love them
Today novelist and short story writer Nina Milton gives us the first in a series of posts on the fictional form that is the backbone of the Unchained anthology. “During the hour of perusal the soul of the reader is at the writer’s control.” Edgar Allan Poe, writing in the 1830’s in his usual, Gothic…
Christmas is coming! Gloucester Road Bookfair December 7th
A book is for life! And the run up to Christmas is the perfect time to choose a few treasures either as gifts or just extra treats to see you through those dark winter days. On Saturday December 7th we’ll be joining Page 53, Tangent Books, Silverwood Books and many other local writing and publishing…
Children and writing don’t mix – or do they?
Jenni O’Connor, novelist, haiku poet, journalist and copywriter, is also mother to Zoe, aged four. Here she muses on the unlikely fusion between writing and parenting. “Children and writing don’t mix.” So said one famous male writer, whose name escapes me, presumably as he hastened to the haven of his oak-panelled study, slamming the door to shut…





