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Hello! Welcome to my newsletter for July/August 2020.
We watch as lockdowns are loosened then locked again. Dave and I are staying cautious. We've learned careful habits. I think we still need them.
Dave is now a dab hand with hair dye.
In this issue:
Last month I made the eyepopping discovery that one of my Nail Your Novel books has been copied, word for word, and sold as part of an online course.
I've since found that IP theft is a massive problem for indie authors. Several told me they've had whole books and courses copied and put on sale. They send a takedown notice, but often the plagiarist starts a new site and carries on. There's little the author can do because they don't have a publisher.
I've been lucky, though. I found a lawyer who said my case was so solid that he'd write the necessary letter without charging me.
I sent my evidence.
Enormous relief and gratitude.
And anxiety.
I've never set a lawyer on anybody before.
Late at night, I'm seized by doubts. What have I started? What if I've made a mistake? I boot the computer to recheck. Compare their text and mine. Is it really a verbatim swipe?
Yes, it is. Totally.
But I now understand why victims of crime might, in spite of everything, start to doubt a thing they know is true.
In the midst of this, Wordpress tells me my blog has been namechecked on another site. How nice. I pop over.
No. It's one of my posts, lifted from my blog in its entirety.
What?
I send a stiff email. And a note on the site's contact form. And, to show I mean business, a direct message on Twitter. Is this now my world? Chasing people who steal my work?
Next morning, a reply. Apologies, I'd better look into this.
Later: I have information that may help. I dug through my files and found you gave permission on May 15 2015. Please see the email thread. I sometimes repost, but if you'd like me to take it down...
Oh red, red face. Though perhaps I can be excused for not remembering an email conversation from five years ago.
I apologise lavishly. Explain. I still manage to sound like I am blaming him, when really I am scolding the unprincipled ratbags who think it's okay to take an author's work. I write another email, calmer, thanking him for being a decent internet citizen.
I guess it's the strain.
I confess to Dave.
'I've done that kind of thing,' he says, and I'm surprised, because he always seems much wiser than me.
Editing and mentoring...  This is my first month editing publications for the Alliance of Independent Authors. It's fun to be working with a subject I know from direct personal experience.
I've had a varied month with coaching projects. I just helped a writer of Southern fiction, which is a tradition we don't have in the UK, so I'm learning the tropes. Later this week I'll be helping a writer with her first espionage thriller. And last month I coached an author who, in the 1980s, met a shady character in a Moscow bar. He's always wondered what happened to him and has now decided to write that story. 
Noveling... Nearly, nearly, nearly finished Ever Rest. I've smoothed in the new additions (draft 21). I rebuilt a few scenes, so I made another detailed reading (draft 22). Now Dave is taking a fresh look and I'll take it back for a final read.
I’ve identified agents to approach. I've written a pitch letter.
This book has nearly grown up.
I have an empty nest, no characters to take care of. I'm devouring novels at a greedy pace, a few a week. This is not like me. I'm usually the slowest reader. I’m stirring the dust, seeking new souls.
I talk about this to one of my beta readers, another author. He's also just surfaced from a long, hard book. 'Read and chill,' he says. 'Something's mulling within.'
A packed weekend
8 August - I'm just finalising my mini-course in professional self-publishing for the Jericho Writers Summer of Writing online festival. The programme continues into September - more here.
9 August - The following day, I'm back at Litopia's Pop-Up Submissions, critiquing manuscripts with literary agent Peter Cox.
A leg-pull
When you're a novelist of the odd and uncanny, you know the universe might sometimes pull your leg.
Here is that leg. It belongs to my friend John Whitbourn, a much-celebrated author (this is his Wiki page). He hates photos so this is the only view of him he'll let me publish.
John's stock-in-trade is stories that bend reality: interdimensional rips in the sky, odd reversals of historical battles and bus-stops where strangers detain you for centuries. So when friends sent him pictures of a street sign that apparently bears his unusual name, he thought they were giving him a taste of his own mischief.
Except they kept doing it.
And they all sent a picture of the same sign.
And they swore it wasn't PhotoShop.
Eventually, John phoned the council to find out more. Yes, they had a department for street names.
'Just out of curiosity,' said John, 'where did you get the name?'
'A local author. He's written... '
Surprised spluttering.
Explaining.
Surprised spluttering.
Really, you did?
Really, you're the writer?
This went on for a bit. 
'My friends have been teasing me about this for years,' said John. 'I thought they were having me on.' 
'Oh it's definitely you,' said Naming Official. 'We had an opening ceremony. The mayor cut a ribbon.'
'And... it's funny I never heard about it?'
'We wondered whether to invite you,' said Naming Official, 'but some of us were worried you might not want us to do it. So we decided not to tell you.'  
'When was this?'
'Oh... years ago. I could find out if you like.'
Mysterious signs that bear your name. Secret ceremonies in a quiet Surrey town. This is exactly the sort of thing that happens in John's stories. And he's just published a new collection, Altered Englands. You might also like John's Amazon page.
On the blog
I'm continuing to post the So You Want To Be A Writer radio show, which I made in 2014-2016 with independent bookseller Peter Snell. Find them on my blog here.
I'm also loading episodes on YouTube if you prefer to listen that way. Find them here.
A little horse
'Dear lord, what have you been feeding him?' said a friend when she saw these pictures.
But this transformation isn't podge. It's schooling.
On the left is a little horse, Feb 2019. On the right, a much bigger little horse, last week (though we somehow both manage to look half asleep so the picture isn't as impressive as it could be). But I can now see why my instructor used to say he needed to build muscle. I had no idea he was supposed to look like this.
Writing flat out
My flat-out everdrafting has taken its toll. I've broken the hinge of a second ergonomic keyboard. Fortunately, I have the perfect thing to prop it into position, though it does like a bizarre accident.
Don't tell the little horse.
Til next time
R xxx
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Copyright © 2020 Roz Morris, All rights reserved.


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