Hello!
I promise not to mention the UK general election. Okay, I just did. But that last sentence doesn’t count. Otherwise, it’s only going to be other things. Good things. Like this:
We’re going to press with this wonderful book very soon. Someone's going to press the big red print button, and then it's going to exist. Actual, physical, paper, beautiful book. This is what we live for. It’s
available to pre-order now. We’re already getting fantastic feedback. It’s going to blow your mind. Blow it! Please read it. Please enjoy it. Please love it like we do.
That's all.
Meanwhile, a little more on this:
As I mentioned last month, we’re also gearing up to print the new paperback cover for Paul Ewen’s Francis Plug: How To Be A Public Author. When they roll of the production line, we’re going to stamp the first 150 copies and ask Paul to sign them. And then we’re going to sell them. Hopefully you might like one.
We’re taking pre-orders in the store now . We’re also offering a tasty discount on the original black flaps paperback.
You can snap up the last few for £7.50 for a limited period. (Until they become so limited people start selling them for £50 a pop on ebay…)
Talking of tasty discounts, we’re still selling black-flaps of
Randall for £7.50, because we’re still delighted that Jonathan Gibbs has been longlisted for the
Desmond Elliott prize.
Right! An event in the actual real physical world, London people. On 22, 23 May, please come and see our authors in action in Greenwich, in a very beautiful riverside setting.
On Friday 22 at 7pm, Paul Ewen is hosting a night with Stewart Home, Frank Key, and Simon Crump. It’s going to be very good. And also, Francis Plug is hoping to sail the Cutty Sark down the Thames about 1am the following morning [tbc].
On Saturday, from 6pm onwards, we’ll have a big old line up of Galley Beggar authors.
Details on the way here soon. Elly will be there as well as our writers, and I too will be crawling out from behind my desk, blinking and afraid, stammering, yammering and flapping my trap. Trying to fill in the silence and the great whistling emptiness that overcomes me whenever I am out in public. It would be wonderful to see some friendly faces. Otherwise, you know: existential angst, despair, and later: plunging weeping into turbid waters of the Thames, floating out to the Essex marshes, alone, forgotten, unwanted, just some especially repugnant fleshy driftwood. And then who will write these charming letters?
Ahem.
Long time Singles Club readers might remember the wonderful Jon Fortgang. But even if you don’t, please check the heck out of this. It is a story so good it makes the whole thing seem worthwhile:
Here’s the blurb:
"You feel the weight of the past behind you. That same weight is being transported up ahead. You go downstairs, open the backdoor and listen to the hiss of lorries on the distant M42. Sometimes that helps a bit."
You can't escape the past. Not when the past is someone called Dave who insists - absolutely insists - you're going to remember, you're going to let him into your house, he's going to sleep in your bed, he's going to drink your whisky...
This story by Jon Fortgang will make you wonder why you don't have more of an idea of who Jon Fortgang is. It's that good. He's that good.
Anyway, enough about us and more about Amazon. I’ve spent a lot of time in these newsletters detailing the terrible terrible things Jeff Bezos does while he’s at work. But have you ever wondered what he gets up to in his down time? How does a busy Bringer Of All Evil relax? I’ve done some research and the results are absolutely unbelievable. Here are just a few crazy samples:
He goes to strangers’ funerals and laughs.
He goes to food banks and laughs and steals the food.
He watches the final ever episode of Blackadder Goes Forth and doesn’t laugh. Until right at the end. When they all go out to die. Then he snorts like a pig with truffles.
He lets the air out of wheelchair tires.
He feeds the pigeons. He gives them everything they want and cries: “Fly my beauties, fly.”
He waits until you’re out so that he can park his car in your favourite spot, right outside your house. And yes, you bet, he drives an SUV.
He scratches and obscures the plastic in front of bus timetables and public information signs. That’s right! It was Bezos who did that.
He goes down to your local swimming pool, jumps in and relaxes in a way you really don’t want him to relax. That’s right. Jeff shits in your swimming pool.
Why does he do such terrible things? Why?
Thanks for reading!
Fondly,
Sam
As usual, I'm also going to use the end of the newsletter for a few more adverts, where you can safely ignore them, or kindly indulge me, depending on your fancy:
Firstly, please join The Singles Club so we can pay writers to write. Here's the blurb:
We have a fantastic new subscription system set up for our Singles Club so that you now only have to make one payment to get hold of 12 stories. But how to go through the ins and outs of paypal payment systems without boring the dirtbox off you, I don't know. Probably the best thing to do is to head over to the relevant page on our site, where I've tried to give a brief, but to the point explanation, and to take it from there. The important things to know are that:
(1) Subscribing saves you the trouble of going to the site every month to get your fix of superb ebook literature – we'll just email you the files every month.
(2) Subscribing (so long as enough people do it) will enable us to start giving our authors money up front on for each story. Yes! We are going to pay people to write short stories. It's like the golden days of the 1920s. Only they'll be in electronic book format instead of Strand magazine… Anyway! You get the idea. This is a mighty fine way to keep authors doing what they do best – entertaining you.
(3) It costs £12 a year, or £1 a month, or less than a meal in Pizza Express. (Unless you have a voucher.)
Secondly, please be our friend! Become a Galley Buddy. It's a good deal for us, and a great deal for you.
Thirdly, to donate to Galley Beggar Press and earn yet more of our gratitude, click here.
Fourthly, go on, buy a postcard set. They're lovely:
Fifthly, thanks for reading write down to the bottom. There's no prize, but I sure do like you. And hey! I know I’m decades late here, but I just listened to the Chris Bell album I Am The Cosmos. If you haven’t heard it, you’re going to want to. If you have, you’ll know why I’m raving about it here.
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