Despite the distraction of a journey across the water to get my hair done this morning, despite the satisfaction of the timing of all my transport in both directions (including a bus that turned up just as I was resigning myself to a 15 minute wait in the sleet - don't know what that was about) - despite all that, today's focal point was the arrival of my book of poems, Washed Up. Half of the lovely team at Argyll Print & Design arrived on my doorstep in a snowstorm, carrying five boxes - 100 books in all - and left me with the realisation that I now have to deal with distribution ...
The poems come from the past 25 years, though most are from this century, and are divided into sections, the largest of which is entitled God. The others are Life, Other Places, Loss, Remembrance, and New Life, and each section has its own line illustration by my friend Canon Paddy Allen, who also painted the cover. I wanted a seascape; she had a couple she'd done and a photo on her phone. This one is of Dunoon viewed from halfway along the East Bay, and continues onto the back cover. I love it.
"Washed up" is taken from the title of one of the poems, a short one I wrote as a reaction to the drowning of the small refugee boy who was found at the water's edge. But I also feel that it's a good title for a collection that has sort of washed up from the flotsam of my life these past twenty-odd years, and I'm incredibly excited to see them all gathered together.
The books are going to be sold initially by Bookpoint, our local independent bookseller, who have spoken of a small launch event; already, however, I have had several orders over Facebook and face a weekend of parcelling and posting.
Now, isn't that a sober post? I'm not feeling at all sober. But I am feeling grateful to all the people who have suggested and nagged over the years. I'm also feeling strangely tired ...
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