Paperbacks or e-books

With the sale of over one million copies of some individual books on kindle, and other e-book libraries, all being downloaded on to PC’s, ipads, iPhones, iPod Touch, iPod, Kindle, the concern shown by the publishers and retail outlets of paperbacks is brought into the spotlight.

Major high street shops selling the printed books, whether paperbacks or hard cover, have to consider just how viable the sale of books consisting purely of text will be when in competition with e-books. Certainly e-books are normally less expensive than a paperback and for the indie author it is an easy way to see their stories available to the public.

Is the content of a story any less intellectual, less interesting, does it lose any of the content value because it is an e-book? As an author the difficulties of entering within the closed wall of the established publishing world becomes apparent. Not because you are not welcome. Not because your work is not worthy of being published. It’s the cost of putting a book out onto the market place that is the problem. Estimates are usually put at roughly £30,000.00. for one book. No publishing house will take the risk unless they are certain of some return.

Writing a series of books, of which the author feels sure are going to be a block buster, takes time. To then find what you consider your epic series will never go before the public is to say the least heartbreaking. So more, and more, authors are turning to placing their cherished works with the electronic world of the e-book. Once you have established the distribution, something that requires some work on your part but only work, then you can forget about the cost of printing.

You can of course advertise, but that can prove costly! Getting known to the public means diligent work. Now you can go twitter, facebook, blogging, and by asking friends to mention you and your link to the book or books you become known for free. Home and dry, not really, the question of cost per book must now be tackled. In this your distributor has a say, how low, how high, or are you not going to charge, it no longer is going to cost you anything so why not give it away? Writing costs money and time , you should have a return.

This is where the printed paperback hits several problems. The cost of printing and distribution of a printed book, and the retail outlet shops including their staff, the profit margins, and the holding of stock. All this can be very heavy. However on the internet there is a different story!

This writer has several books in his stable and the prices have been set. But the guide lines have now been redrawn. Take one of my books ‘Hocus Pocus and the Pentacle Pendant’. The paperback is part of a series and is £6.49, the kindle version was £3.39, but no longer. I can sell it at a much cheaper rate, it has become a ‘loss leader’ without actually being a complete loss, now it’s 70p, and I still retain a profit! Do you have to search for it on the internet? No - all you have to do is click on the following link, this link this now appears on all the non cost outlets! http://amzn.to/jAD5PR or you can type ‘Hocus Pocus and the Pentacle Pendant’ onto books Amazon web page search window.

IRELAND

Now I am always being told ‘You should go to Ireland, you will love it!’ So a couple of weeks ago my wife and I booked the ferry to Dublin and we were ready. Well not exactly I planned to drive to the ferry on Monday catch the 5:15pm ferry and be there (in Dublin) by 7:10pm and zip into our hotel which was pre-booked!

My wife thought not - better to travel to Holyhead on the Sunday, stay at a hotel and catch the 12 noon ferry on Monday and be in Dublin by 2:00 pm. OK so my plans would have been a bit tight to say the least,. So we went to Holyhead on Sunday. Now there is an expression that goes ‘The best laid plans of mice and men etc.’ The Valley Hotel was fine and the food very commendable, the staff very friendly, any way before breakfast I checked my e-mails – whoops what was this.

' Adverse weather conditions exist, your fast ferry is cancelled and you are booked on the slow ferry at 4:00 arriving Dublin 6:00pm. Now I am a patient man and I agree rough weather on the Irish crossing is not to be ignored, anyway it was roughly the time I had originally expected to arrive so that was fine.

Now from the Ferry terminal to our hotel is a fifteen minute drive (O’Connell Street), now that was what I expected BUT – I hadn’t allowed for President Obama, now President Obama may be of Irish descent – I know not! But two and a half hours later we got to our hotel. The President was in town and everywhere was blocked – you can go off people and the American President was not my favourite person when I finally booked. The hotel restaurant had closed (the less said about the hotel the better) and we had to go hunting for our dinner!

The next morning I (we) were up early – no breakfast and let’s get out of town.

Did we enjoy our trip, well I did. It did rain a lot, and it was cold, and as I was researching the ‘Nine Year’s War’ –Tyrone’s Rebellion’ for me the trip was a success. For Margaret who was feeling cold and wet it may not have been great. Tyrone’s Rebellion – Yellow Ford – Curlew Pass – Clontibret mean anything to you, it didn’t to most people I spoke to. It all happened in 1594 – 1603 and was the time when the Troubles in Ireland really started – followed by the Plantations. I know it suddenly got boring if you’re not into it. So I enjoyed the trip. And I will write a little about another time, in fact I intend to write a complete book set during the Rebellion, fiction of course but fiction does need to be correct on anything factual you include. Keep reading my blogs – have been very remiss lately but shall now give it some attention.

Regards to all Patrick

Music in the Garden

During the summer of June, back in 2009 to be exact, my daughter suggested we go to The Stables to see John Dankworth, or rather listen to his new group Tugboat. With Alan Barnes they would be playing some great jazz. Now for the American followers The Stables is to be found near Milton Keynes and is a small but internationally known Jazz and Music venue; a very popular centre for entertainment in the Old Rectory. The house is the residence of Cleo Lane which she shared with her husband.

At The Stables they hold performances in the gardens, and if the weather is fine then you can picnic while listening to the music.

They will hire you a gazebo, and provide a picnic if you don’t wish to bring your own.

This was to be our first visit to The Stables and having bought and listened to the John Dankworth music over the years we settled down to await the performance. There were some nice old chaps fussing around cameras take you in closer to the subject and with it came the realization that the nice old codgers on the stage were actually Johnny Dankworth and Alan Barnes

Yup, I was getting older and had been listening to Sir John Dankworth and Dame Cleo Lane for more years than I like to remember. I like to remember the music, but not think about how many years.The Jazz was great, the music was great; as they say - real cool. It was a pleasure to see the performance live and we resolved that this would not be our last visit to see John perform. We now have our memories of that day almost two years ago but sadly we shall be unable to repeat our visit to see him perform again. He left us to enjoy his music on record, and no doubt he is playing on a higher level.

To go there with my wife – daughter – granddaughter made it a lovely visit.

Stables is still a great venue for a varied choice of entertainment and I can only recommend that you log onto the web site and see if there is something you can go and see either in the gardens or in the theatre.

Monet's Gardens at 'Giverny'

On a lighter note I thought I would blog about flowers. But anybody can blog about flowers so I have given it a twist and taken Monet’s Garden at Giverny as the subject.

I always like to read a little about anywhere we are about to visit and on this occasion had made a careful study of the information that explains this garden. I'm the chap on the right! My first surprise was to find it is in two parts. The upper gardens around the house and the water garden are on the lower area below the road.

Margaret in front of the house

The first area to look at is the Clos Normand which is also where you can view inside the house.

Monet settled at Giverny in 1883 and planted the hectare of land which had originally been an orchard but he preferred to plant out with varied flowers.

He liked to mix flowers and let them grow in a disorganised manner, but his blending of the varied colours created beautiful flower beds on either side of a central walk

Iris's and long stemmed grow freely with daises and poppies. Roses climb the iron arches and you can wander along the main and sidewalks which divide the flower beds admiring the varied varieties of flowers.

It is certainly not a place to be missed, especially the Water Garden. In 1893 Claude Monet bought the land lower down and using the waters from the small stream- the Ru – there he created a small pond the first attempt of what was to be a much larger pond, this he planted with Water Lilies –Nymphéas.

Eventually the small pond was made much bigger and the Water Lily Garden, which is famed throughout the world as a result of his paintings, was created.

Here also is the famous Japanese bridge with the wisterias growing over it in profusion. There are weeping willows and smaller bridges but the Japanese bridge is a must to view and possible have your photo taken on.

But as a founder of the ‘impressionist’ style of painting, and his wonderful Water Nymphéas paintings he has made the gardens a must to visit.

After Monet’s death in 1926 his step daughter Blanche looked after the garden, but after the Second Worlds War they became neglected. In 1966 the Academie des Beaux-Arts became responsible for them and in 1977 restoration was started. In 1980 thanks mainly to this work which was greatly helped by donations from the USA, the gardens were opened to the public.

The bit that amused me finally was when standing by the Water Gardens a voice behind me was asking a friend if Monet still looked after the gardens himself. I started to explain some of the story behind the gardens pointing to the bridge and the various plants, and explaining the part his family and then how the restoration came about. After a short while I turned to look behind me to see if the two ladies were still listening and found not just two ladies but a small crowd of about twenty had gathered. It seemed I was amongst the few that like to know before I visit what I shall be looking at.

The Way Forward

We complain about the way our politician’s fail, in our opinion, they fail to lead us on the golden path to prosperity but do we suggest anything to help!

The current problems are down to them or maybe us as we elected them! But then they were the cause because they didn’t follow our words of wisdom! What of the future? It’s a fact that what people have they will be loathe to give up hence the protests in Greece, Cairo, Tunisia and others. So we have to take what we can back but don’t expect much cooperation. The answer is don’t give away anything more.

To start with all Government departments are overloaded. So don’t recruit any more staff, redeploy that which you have. Retire everybody at the same age. In the U.K. that is 65 at the moment, and it should apply to all workers throughout Europe – private or civil service. They won’t agree to that! But why not, it should be a new retirement age for all or out on your ear, they will have to listen. Strike they will cry – if they wish go on then strike, but we should make sure it’s without pay.

The biggest problem is too many people. True we cannot go in for mass extermination of sections of the people. But why keep producing more than we need! The world wide increase in population over the last century has been from 1,650 Million to 6,707 million. True the fertility rate in the developed countries is 1-2 children, but even in the U.S.A. it is 2-3 children. This fertility rate should reduce the numbers that draw on those nations resources. But Sub Saharan Africa and some Middle East countries have a fertility rate of 5-6 children and in some areas 7-8 children. And now with the ease of movement from one country to another, immigration is having a drastic effect on some of the indigenous populations.

As much as one country would like to assist another, we cannot support a massive explosion of population in other countries. And that is exactly what we are trying to do. Our governments must stop giving our money away and spend it more wisely at home. We should reduce any form of benefit that encourages more than a fertility of 1-2 children. I didn’t say stop but taxation after two children would stop much of the unbalance that is occurring in some developed countries by the immigrant population taking advantage of the child benefit allowances.

The use of the motor car draws on the petroleum industry; in the first place the design of electric cars should have greater emphasis. We can produce electricity from nuclear power; thereby our reliance on petroleum will be reduced. Something that will take our power supply needs away from external influence which should be seriously considered. It will also help to reduce climate change by less pollution.

Maybe you don’t agree with these comments. I can think of other ways forward, but maybe your comments may have some, and your opinion on my suggestions are very welcome1

To Blog or not to Blog

The last few months seem to have come and gone. Work on my books and the printing seems to have occupied all of my time, consequently I have seemed to have had a chaotic past twelve months and blogging has got less and less – well I now hope to rectify that and get into a regular routine. First if anyone is interested they can go on line to Amazon.co.uk or .com depending on your geographical location! Click onto patrick c coulson and both paperbacks and kindle sales will be revealed?

I am now back on the volcano and writing diligently for the next book in the ‘Celestial Seven ‘ series but intend to blog as well! And also a small amount of tweeting. So I shall start with a little of my personal life.

For those that have read my blogs in the past – and everyone is welcome to go over old ground and read previous blogs – they are meant to be general and interesting, a quick brief look into things I have done or think. Think is possibly the more boring but should I hope nevertheless give the reader something to conjecture with.

Having changed homes last year and also having some much needed refurbishment on my Tenerife villa has meant a continual tramp of builders – carpenters – conservatory erection men tramping through our life. At this very moment I can see and hear drilling for new locks on the doors in progress. And I still manage to write, still the sun is shining and the temperature is very pleasant – my wife swims in the open pool every day. In England it is still very chilly or so I am reliably informed by my granddaughter who is looking after our house.

The cat is pleased to see us back here – Miss Hiss is what could be loosely described as a feral cat. Having adopted us ten years ago she still will not allow us to touch her and if approached arches her back and hisses at us – hence her name. We where away for eight months last year and within minutes of our return appeared on the doorstep asking for food. We were treated to mice and lizards being placed on our balcony for several days as by way of an explanation of her diet when we were not here. She is back on her favourite seat every day, for most of the day – except for regular meals - and still remains outside at night by choice!

Well for those that might be interested I shall be opening some interest blogs by the end of the week so don’t forget to log in.

Regards to my followers old and new - Patrick

A 17th Century Christmas

In a castle the servants ate well, none more so than the kitchen staff, this extract from 'The Early Life of Erasmus O'Rourke' takes you into early Irish life! More extracts can be read on Google Book Search

. The castle had been fed and was now resting and the festivities in the kitchen could now commence. The tables had not only been put up but were laden with a meal fit for the kitchen servants, who were never known to skimp when it came to eating.

By now the pages, grooms and most of the older retainers were milling around filling their mugs with ale. The chambermaids were behaving in a manner most unbecoming for young ladies, not that they were young ladies, but still propriety would have been expected this early in the proceedings, already they were loosening their bodices and being coltish. This thought Erasmus was not like the Christmases past. The cottage had always celebrated the occasion, but the diet by midwinter had already become meagre. His mother would make an effort and his father would drink the poteen he had made and become drunk. He realised that the latter part of his thoughts were not dissimilar to the scene in front of him, and he reflected that lining his stomach with milk had not been a bad idea.

‘These stools are for us.’ He felt Deidre’s hand on his arm as she pulled him and Paddy to one side where already some mugs of ale awaited them. Quickly the stools were filled and the trenchers were piled high with roast beef, pieces of wild geese, colcannon and black and white puddings chunked into mouth size pieces, assuming you had a wide mouth. Then as they were finishing their first mugs of ale Aingeal aided by the scullions carried the wassail bowl to the central table and removed the clothe covering it. Without the refinement of a jug to serve there was much jostling and elbow digging. Paddy quickly dipped their mugs into the liquid pushing the roasted apples that were bobbing on the surface to one side and filled the mugs to the brim.

‘There we go, a real good mix by the smell, all wine, and plenty of spices and sugar,’ said Paddy who was already sipping at his mug. ‘And there’s something else in there, has cook been adding a little poteen to give it a little extra?’ He looked at Deidre as if expecting an answer, but she was already paying attention to Erasmus.

‘Did you like your bed, kept the wood real smooth, shouldn’t think there’ll be any splinters; what with the new mattress, I should think it’s better than before for sleeping.’

If anything could have been inferred by her comment then it was lost on Erasmus who was wondering just how much food was on his trencher and hadn’t been paying attention to either of them, not that it was possible to hear much above the noise He cut a slice from the beef and with some colcannon started to make some headway on his trencher. Without thinking, and not having paid attention to Paddy, he took a large quaff from his mug which was substituting for a wassail cup. The liquid hit the back of his throat making him almost spit it out, recovering in time he swallowed in one gulp only to bring water to his eyes. ‘What was that,’ he spluttered looking at his companions.

‘Ah to be sure you like to drink heartily, we’ll be carrying you to your bed tonight if you’re to be drinking like that.’ Paddy was now laughing out aloud.

Erasmus on the other hand was resolving to pay more attention to what was being put in front of him. He had come to the conclusion that though festivities could be enjoyable, the after effects could be less so.

‘Here have this, maybe it’s not so spicy,’ Deidre handed him a smaller mug.

Now being more careful he took a sip, but he had already smelt the sweet smell of mead, and knowing its effect despite its mild nature, he placed it to one side. Then in order to avoid too much liquid he ate slowly from the trencher. A trickle of unidentified liquid trickled over the table and over the edge. Before it could reach his léine Erasmus moved his legs to one side, and then taking hold of a clothe wiped the table surface.

Deidre misunderstanding the movement was only conscious of his legs pressing against hers and respond by leaning onto him. ‘This is more like it, nothing like Christmas to get close.’

Maybe it was the wassail, or the ale, or the mead, but Erasmus was beginning to like the pressure of her body against his and on this occasion was not inclined to move away. ‘Do you like having your hair down, I mean it looks nice, and I was wondering …’ Small talk was not one of Erasmus’s attributes and he was fumbling for some thing to say. ‘It’s very long, I mean when you’re working you have it all coiled up under your coif, but it’s a fine length.’ As he spoke he trailed his fingers through her hair.

This time it was Paddy’s time to choke on his mug of wassail. Watching from the corner of his eye, he had sensed the growing awareness in Erasmus, that there was more to be enjoyed than merriment on these occasions, affection he hadn’t seen up till now. Though he told himself it was none of his business, he resolved to keep an eye on the relationship. It was in his interest to ensure that the patronage given to Erasmus was not sullied.

Enjoying the attention being given, Deidre started to cut from the ham to place some on Erasmus’s trencher. Then remembering a forgotten intention, she slipped from the stool and went off to the pantry only to return moments later to surreptitiously place some large prawns by the side of Paddy’s and Erasmus’s trenchers. ‘Special they be, extra large, some say from Dublin, but I’d not be knowing these things.’

Then the kitchen maids made to the hearth, and taking the platters placed mincemeat pies still hot on them, large oblong shaped pies filled with mincemeat heavy with fruit, spices and meats. The cook had been helping herself to some Spanish brandy that had found its way into the buttery and now the mince pies. Sugar had given the fermentation of the mincemeat added sweetness. Butter had been liberally used in making the pastry and this oozed from the surface of the lidded top. Soon a large portion found its way onto each of the trenchers in front of them, and Paddy’s face was again wreathed in smiles. ‘To be sure this is the way to eat, and will we be having plum pudding to follow?’

‘I hope not,’ said Erasmus, ‘I shall never eat this, well not all of it.’ Then removing the belt from his waist he laid it around his shoulders.

Almost unnoticed Deidre was stroking his thigh. This she decided was going to be a Christmas to remember and she was savouring every moment.

Claire came around the table. ‘You’ll not be forgetting the plum puddings, Aingeal said to tell you to fetch the thick cream and the butter from the pantry. You do that, and Niamh will help me put the puddings on the table.’ That said, she motioned to Niamh who had been watching them talking. Quickly they put the puddings on their platters along the centre of the table while Deidre carried bowls heaped with thick cream, and some with butter. The appearance for Paddy was as if they had come from heaven itself, and he was reaching for a helping of the delicious luscious fruit and suet laden puddings as they filled the air with a fragrance of spices and fumes, fumes from were they had been drenched in spirit. Before they were barely on the table his trencher would seem to be filled. The plum pudding was followed by enormous ladles of cream, topped with a dollop of butter. And then as if to make sure he would be ill later he poured honey over the top watching it spill over the edges. ‘Now that’s a pudding,’ he said to his companions quaffing at the mead he had resorted to as the wassail bowl was now empty.

Erasmus did not wish to offend Aingeal, who he remembered some weeks ago spent hours with the kitchen maids stoning the plums, and cleaning the suet. Aingeal had then kept awake half the night, taking it in turns with Claire topping up the water while the puddings were boiling. So he placed some on his trencher, intending to stop at that. Deidre thinking he was not aware of the cream took a ladle and covered his plum pudding.

‘Err, no butter, I think I have enough.’ He looked around for something to drink whilst eating, then realising that there was only ale, or mead, he settled for the former rather than becoming involved in drinking mead.

It was some time later when sitting near the doorway with Deidre that he noticed Paddy had, by his absence, already gone to his quarters. The kitchen was now clearing and the scullions were wearily clearing up some of the mess. ‘Seems that that’s the end of Christmas,’ he said almost sorrowfully. ‘Time to gather our strength for the morrow.’

‘Mmmm …, that’s a good idea, I have to be up early getting this lot straightened out,’ but she still kept her arm close around his waist.

‘Come on let’s be having you it’s nearly daybreak,’ Paddy gave Erasmus a shake to awaken him.

‘What’s the haste, we’ve not to be anywhere in particular today.’ Erasmus stirred lazily slowly coming out of a lethargic stupor.

‘Ay, maybe you haven’t but this one has,’ and lifting the covers high he playfully slapped Deidre’s naked bottom, ‘come on my girl, if they catch you here, they’ll be sending you both out the door.’ Seeing her confusion he continued, ‘It will be no good saying you were just keeping him warm. And for you to be saying you were just showing her the bed, which I’ve no doubt you were, and she was showing you a thing or two I be bound. In that I’ll not be wrong in thinking others would agree.’

Deidre was quick to see the situation and was dressed and out to the kitchen in literally seconds.

‘I don’t know how that happened, we were just talking about why a strung bed is not used by everybody, and then we ended up here.’ Erasmus sought to explain, but could see that it was wasted on Paddy.

‘And you need to tell me what it was about, don’t be bothering. Just make sure you don’t do anything foolish, you have a good life here in front of you, be a shame to spoil it.’ For me as well thought Paddy, for I’m sure to get the blame.

Christmas day became Epiphany, and the gorging continued, spiced beef, legs of pork, sausages. A regular supply of different pastries, finally on twelfth night the iced cake, and Epiphany was behind them. Paddy kept an eye on his friends, and made sure when they were keeping warm that they were up before the others. Christmas for 1629 was soon over.