Why Unbound? Why crowdfunding?

Observations from people who’ve been there

Funding my book with Unbound has been a fascinating process. There have been unexpected benefits that go beyond the buzz of having my book published.

Unbound came into being as a response to changes in the publishing industry. Good books were not getting published because their commercial success couldn’t be guaranteed. There has been a steady drift toward projects with TV or celebrity tie-ins, so whilst the business of books in general may have been in unexpectedly great shape, areas such as literary fiction have been struggling. Thus the clever people at Unbound came up with a way of addressing this. As well as a way of securing publication for a wide array of books that might not make it in the more commercial sector, it offers a fantastic connection between writer and audience.

Is it for you? Are you about to launch your own crowdfunded book, with Unbound or any other platform? Here, with a little help from my Unbound friends, are some tips and observations on crowdfunding. (Most of them work for promoting a book too.)

Stevyn Colgan, author of A Murder To Die For

1)THE AUDIENCE IS ELUSIVE. It was very much harder than I had anticipated to reach the people that I didn’t already know.

2) TOUGH –  YOU MUST HUNT THEM DOWN. You will need strangers to buy your book so start looking for them early. The audience has no need of your words, there are millions of other words already out there that they could gorge on for all eternity. But they will pledge because you make yourself of interest to them, because you let them know you are there. Initially this will probably be because they love you or care about you. Very few will pledge because they happened to read your synopsis and think you are a genius. But you have to find ways to reach them any way.

Damon Wakes, author of Ten Little Astronauts

3) FINDING YOUR VOICE IS DIFFICULT BUT YOU ONLY HAVE TO DO IT ONCE.  I don’t mean your writer’s voice, that bit is dealt with already. I mean your professional author voice. That is, if you want to get your book funded and subsequently aim to give up or cut back on the work you are doing to pay your way whilst you write.

Social media guilt starts to drag around behind you like a damp, mildewed cape hanging limp and heavy from your shoulders. Smart people who are good at selling books tell you to do it, do it hard, do it more. Every day, engage, build connections. It takes up a helluva lot of mindspace to even think of how that might work. But eventually you seem to find a kind of honest approach, one that doesn’t feel like a fake or an uncomfortable hard sell. Then it can be quite fun.

Apart from odd moments when you suspect all your friends hate you and wish your computer would break.

4) IT HELPS ENORMOUSLY that Unbound have selected the manuscript. It shouldn’t matter, the selection does not of course, suddenly make it a better book than if I had self-published, but it gives people confidence in it.

Helen M Taylor, author of The Backstreets of Purgatory

5) MAKE NEW FRIENDS. I have come into a fabulous, not exactly secret, but almost, back-stage community. A number of other Unbound writers get together on a regular basis via the medium of Facebook to share tips, moan, high-five, amuse each other and become friends. I’ve even met some of them and hope to do so again. It is wonderful support. A kind of unofficial, ad-hoc scaffold built from the finest materials. There are many different writers, a magically wide array of books (some of which I have made pledges for myself) all come together into a helpful and supportive community. A great resource. It is sometimes the only place you can go to off-load anxiety or boredom or disappointment with progress. You can’t actually tell a friend who has been generous enough to back your project that you are fed up with how slowly it seems to be moving without it sounding like a barely-disguised wheedle.

It has been so valuable and mood-lifting, informative and smart. It is great to know that when someone feels hollow or disappointed by small rewards gained from huge effort, a group of cheery and funny people who totally get the feeling will gather round (temporarily taking a break from penning the next masterpiece/suspiciously ready to engage in an easy online-distraction) to tell them how well they are doing and that they shouldn’t give up.

Ian Skewis, author of A Murder Of Crows

6) LOVE YOUR OLD FRIENDS. Most wonderful of all is how generous friends, colleagues and family are. I have had so much support. Way more than I expected. Which is incredibly lucky, because see 1). People have been amazingly generous. Like other authors,  I have found that it has been by far the bulk of my backing. None of them had to pledge, there is no obligation. It is generosity that makes people pledge, a generous desire to help, a generous desire to fund the arts, a generous desire to make something happen. It is humbling and up-lifting. And, unexpectedly, it made this process, though it has sometimes been difficult, scary and definitely hard work, one that is ultimately very rewarding.

Of course I will never know if my book would have eventually been published by a conventional publisher, but probably not. So I am deeply, immensely grateful to Unbound for making it possible. The opportunity to invest in books that may not make a great deal of money is precious for all of us. And in all my dealings the people at Unbound have been unfailingly kind, helpful and engaged.

It feels great that so many people have invested in my book, even the ones who intended to pledge but never got round to it. The openness of the process has made them aware of what I am doing and interested enough to talk to me about it and that is an investment.

James Ellis, author of The Wrong Story

Crowdfunding, asking for help or support, finding people to invest in your work is daunting, it can be very hard work. But it is also uplifting and exciting, and possibly the only option if you don’t want to go it alone. I am very happy with the story so far.

My book Twice the Speed of Dark will be coming out on Unbound later this year.

The flicker of lights

Shades 1 aperture

Short story

As outlined in this post Twice the Speed of Dark began as a project in which I wrote portraits to imagine what the real lives might be of the people who died in terror attacks overseas, whose stories were presumed to be uninteresting to us, or irrelevant. I wanted to engage with the complexities and tender beauties of ordinary lives that had been suddenly and brutally ended, then ignored. The aim was to look at the life of that person, not their death, so as to attempt an understanding of what had been ended. (In Twice the Speed of Dark, Anna writes the portraits, some of which can be found in the book. You can still make a pledge for Twice the Speed of Dark, and get your name in the back as a thank you for being a supporter, if you would like to.)

I decided yesterday that I would revisit the portraits I wrote during that project and write short/very short stories to expand on the few sentences I had written as an outline. This story is about the first portrait I wrote.

#1. Aperture

She sighs, stretches backward, gratified by the small, responsive click in her back. She pulls back her elbows hoping to coax another snap from her tired spine. Bending forward once more to complete the job, she digs around the roots of the ungainly plant with a trowel. Once the soil is loosened she grasps the thickened stem, coaxing gently so as to ease out the whole root system in one. A gentle, insistent tug, a come with me. Soon the plant is out of the ground, almost whole, its growth flayed out, mirrored at each end of the brown thickening of the stem. It lies on the ground. A pair of lungs on a tilted axis, one to breath air, one water.

Standing back, she looks at the flower bed, at the wall behind, painted some years ago a powder blue, turned chalky under steady sun. Where the plant had ranged against the wall is a patch of pale yellow, the colour before.

Her brother had painted the walls in the back yard for her, at a time when she had become fragile. Her youngest son a tiny soul in limbo, unsure of his way in the world as she withdrew, crushed under the confusion of post-natal depression. Her husband, always a busy man, had called in a roster of family, there to love his son until she found her way back, there to love his wife until she remembered that she loved them too. The garden, made cheerful, was part of their medicine.

Since those days she has sat out in the garden, a habit formed in bleak times but now imbued with a measure of restorative peace. She sits on a metal stool, gazing at the patch of yellow that sinks like a feeble sun into the earth, into the blue of the wall.

It marks a greater absence. A few days after painting the yard her brother had come by to take the three children out to the park, left his sister sitting quietly in the sun in the back yard. On his return they had argued, an old family wound. The argument was well worn, a scar, no longer an injury. But memories of pain had prompted their fight. She had told him to leave. Three days later he had drowned whilst fishing at dusk in a small boat that gently washed back onto the dark shore without him.

Instead of replacing the plant with a new flowering shrub, she leaves the empty space. The boundary between yellow and blue, the mark of absence revealed the presence of a brother she had loved deeply and mourned properly only years after his death. She had not noticed him in the walls, in the completion of a job well done. But in this aperture, this incomplete detail, she finds the hand of the worker, she finds her brother. She tamps down the soil.