So how many authors do we have on here?

boogieman

Congratulations to @samzadgan on getting his book published. I've noticed over the years that several other people on the forum have mentioned being published authors. So who are they and what have you written? How did you get your publishing deal? How difficult was it? Be interested to hear your experiences. 

I co-wrote this several years ago, it's the story of a major UK terrorism trial, how it was politically used and abused and the fallout afterwards. I was the jury foreman in the trial. 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/aw/d/0745329276/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1492762897&sr=8-1&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_QL65&keywords=ricin+book&dpPl=1&dpID=41Sy120PlaL&ref=plSrch

stimpsonslostson

I've got about 10 scientific papers to my name. All in the field of evolutionary biology & co-authored with folk in my lab.

In a completely different field, I've written two (and almost finished a third) childrens books for my kids. They're on my iPad at present & when I get a good break in my "real" work I intend to polish them and hopefully see if I can get them published.

Gassage

I ghosted James Caan's 'Get the Job of Your Dreams'.

Plus a million and one articles on rugby.

Cirrus

I wrote this short story a few months ago;

Dawn, and a fog had appeared in the hours before. It had started in the trees at the top of Tong's Hill, coalescing furtively between the trunks and the branches that almost touched over the many paths kept clear by the park staff. By the time the sky in the east shifted from black to the darkest perceptible hue of deep blue it gained courage and began to drift out of the tree-line and across the neighboring fields. By then it had thickened in the woods, so that from the main path that led from the car park to the cafe and gift shop the friendly, welcome light afixed to the doorway of that building was diffused to something less earthly and familiar - a slight comfort but promise that the world had not melted away beyond the edges of visibility in the night.

Earlier the stars had been clear, a well defined ceiling to the scene. Two seperate groups of youths had driven up to gaze into infinity, for a short while at least as the November night quickly cooled from an unseasonably warm day. Mostly, they came not for the thrill of that pursuit but as an excuse, a distraction for a more common passtime. The real aim was a realisation of love, or lust, or a resolution to the tension all young people feel. The boys wanted to seem deep, wise, older than their years. Perhaps they had that sense some develop that in the depth of the sky is a mirror in which we see not ourselves as we actually are, but as someone we recognise who we can find common faults and strengths and judge in their entirity with more clarity than we could ever judge ourselves. And, the girls would *surely* sense such introspection as just once facet of a much greater character. The girls, in turn, were there to ignore the airs of serious wisdom put on by the boys - to subtly belittle it while hinting that it had real value. In truth, in their cores, both sexes felt the same drives and as is the way with people, the differences in outlook were more imagined than real.

So it was that each group had arrived in a few cars, travelled up from the town three miles distant, with 6-packs of beer and sweet, flavoured vodka and laughed, talked, annoyed each other and plied the strengths of their personalities until the less hardy were shivering and the more lucky pulled a partner close for warmth - a strategy which staved off the inevitable surrender and retreat to the cars and back down the road for only a few minutes at most.

They were gone by half past midnight. Had they stayed another 15 minutes, they would have heard the night pierced by a scream. Not a sound of terror, shock or awe but something higher pitched, keening with something darker, longer, more profound.

That had been the last event of note until the dawn broke, heavy with that thick, uniform fog. A fog so dense that when the park attendant arrived at 7:45 to unlock the cafe and turn on the kitchen appliances, he couldn't see that one of the cars that had arrived last night was still parked, alone and with the boot open, at the far corner of the wood-chipped car park. He could not see that inside sat a man, skin white with cold but breathing and shivering still, eyes glazed with fear and staring towards the path down which he had returned to the car park but could not remember walking up seven hours earlier when he had arrived.

He was afraid because he could not find himself. He had heard the scream and it had knocked him off his own train of thought. Now it was morning and he felt the feeling of waking in an unfamiliar room and taking a moment to remember where he was and how he got there. Such a comparison to a normal event would have comforted the man as a familiarity at least, but it did not come to him. He was lost, grasping for understanding or that first clue that brings it all flooding back, and it felt that he had been this way forever - like time had forgotten to tick a moment, re-started but left him behind when it did so.

But time did restart for him, when his eyes fell on a sticker in the corner of the windscreen. A stylised car, the name P.M. Auto and the handwritten date for the car's next service - 14th Feb - and the whole jigsaw pulled itself together with a snap. Thom remembered his name and where he sat in the room of his own mind, re-grasped the controls and looked to the passenger seat where a half-finished bottle of water waited. The service had been last valantine's day, and though at the time the annual service had seemed more likely than the alternative “or 12,000 miles”, in truth he had done nearly 25,000 since then, not returning to the garage for the service long overdue.

Thom knew the car was merely an analogy, though. An analogy for the way he was letting other aspects of his life go to rack and ruin. For example, he hadn't had a decent shit in three days and didn't care. And his collection of famous cheeses was still sitting out on the hot stove back at home, slowly melting and pooling into the bucket of an elaborate contraption he'd built that was supposed to make breakfast, but actually just shoots you – it doesn't make breakfast at all!

boogieman

stimpsonslostson said:

I've got about 10 scientific papers to my name. All in the field of evolutionary biology & co-authored with folk in my lab.

In a completely different field, I've written two (and almost finished a third) childrens books for my kids. They're on my iPad at present & when I get a good break in my "real" work I intend to polish them and hopefully see if I can get them published.

I've heard that children's books are quite difficult to get published as it's quite a saturated market but I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. Having said that a friend of mine has managed to get two books of poems for children published and frankly they're crap! 

CabbageCat

Being an author these days is a lot more accessible than it used to be. I have several friends who have written books and self-published them at their own expense. There are a number of enterprises that will take your novel and put it online for people to buy. This is great for people who aren't being picked up by traditional publishers but it makes it hard for the public to filter the acceptable from the intolerable (how many of you read books self-published by strangers? How often have you got past page ten?). There are genuine gems out there and they are sometimes spotted and grabbed by real publishers but they are hard to find when they are new - you can't tell by Amazon ratings since they have only ever been bought by mates of the author who all give five stars out of loyalty.

I only know one person who has a publishing deal with a company that pays for the books to be produced and actually writes books for a living (my mum). They are much rarer creatures. Being an author nowadays is like being a musician - there are millions of musicians but only a few people who make music as their job.

Drew_TNBD

I write snide commentary on guitarists on a few forums and my Facebook page.

boogieman

Drew_TNBD said:

I write snide commentary on guitarists on a few forums and my Facebook page.

Wisdom or lol? 

Cirrus

boogieman said:

Drew_TNBD said:

I write snide commentary on guitarists on a few forums and my Facebook page.

Wisdom or lol? 

Ban.

Heartfeltdawn

I ghostwrote three of Katie Price's books. 

TheBlueWolf

I write horror fiction. I'm a total horror nut and thought I'd give writing a whirl. I'm not 'published', as in having a book deal but I've got a blog. Should I ever become famous drinks are on me

Here's my blog https://twisimage.wordpress.com

VimFuego

Heartfeltdawn said:

I ghostwrote three of Katie Price's books. 

what did you do after breakfast tho?

57Deluxe

my partner is a published author - she just received this year's royalty cheque...

boogieman

Nice. I think I got £15 in royalties last year, it was about a fiver the year before.  We're on 5% of the cover price per book sold, split two ways as it was a co-write. 

vasselmeyer

I wrote a blog after I had a  brain tumour removed and I had some interest (from a national paper, quite flatteringly) as they liked my writing style. Never came to anything though, but those posts and other stuff I wrote is still up. I haven't updated it for years though. If you read it, start with the oldest posts.

https://vocks.wordpress.com/

impmann

I've just had this published...

http://www.veloce.co.uk/shop/products/productDetail.php?prod_id=V5009&prod_group=Cars Vans & Trucks&PHPSESSID=v4cjrq2hh3v0u0tllkpap9elp7

And my 'day job' is a magazine Editor.

Fretwired

No novels, but I write for a business magazine and have written for the Daily Telegraph and a few rags.

My old history master from school is prolific though .... shows you what can be done ..

https://www.amazon.co.uk/M.J.-Trow/e/B001H9U1B6/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1492779387&sr=1-1

CabbageCat

57Deluxe said:

my partner is a published author - she just received this year's royalty cheque...

Anyone we'd have heard of?

Heartfeltdawn

Fretwired said:

No novels, but I write for a business magazine and have written for the Daily Telegraph and a few rags.

My old history master from school is prolific though .... shows you what can be done ..

https://www.amazon.co.uk/M.J.-Trow/e/B001H9U1B6/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1492779387&sr=1-1

Ah, that's very cool. I bought a couple of those books for my father in the past

EricTheWeary

I've had poems and cartoons published in things years ago but nothing that ever made me any money (Eric The Weary being one of my cartoon characters). Something I did seemed to have been plagiarized and appeared in Private Eye but I couldn't prove and it may have been a big coincidence.
You can buy a children's book Eric The Weary Bee but that's nothing to do with me as far as I know! 

AustrianJohn

I wrote the Kitzbuhel Alps Ski Guide a few years ago. I funded it through adverts (local hotels, tourist offices etc), and it was distributed free throughout the area by tourist offices and ski holiday companies. Barely broke even so I didn't bother with updates. But if you want an out of date ski guide, you can still buy it here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Kitzbuhel-Alps-Ski-Guide-2013-14/dp/1782801278/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1382814146&sr=8-1&keywords=kitzbuhel+alps+john+barr

I had a few articles published in the now defunct ex-pat Telegraph, and I have a regular column in the "Mr. Bridge" magazine (the card game). Used to write regular articles for Scientific Computing World before I decided that being a guitar-building ski bum was more fun than working for a living.