Friday, 16 June 2017

This week at Valley Press, #59: 'Forever, Now'



Dear readers,

I'd like to start today's mailout by announcing a book we're publishing in five months' time; both author and publisher are far too excited to keep it under wraps. Forever, Now will be the first collection of poetry by celebrated crime writer Helen Cadbury – you can read more about the book here (including mini-reviews by Carole Bromley, Antony Dunn and James Nash) and a sample poem can be found here.

You might think it odd that, when introducing someone's poetry, I would mention their success in a very different literary genre... but in this case it can't be avoided, such is the stir Helen has caused since starting her career in crime (so to speak). I usually find that great novelists make great poets; they bring an economy with words (counter-intuitively), strong narratives and carefully-drawn characters, and those who've read Forever, Now so far have agreed that's very much the case here.

The front cover image was taken by Helen herself (we love to get authors involved in their design), and the title comes from Emily Dickinson's quote that 'forever is comprised of nows' – though begins to mean a lot more as you progress through the poems. You'll be hearing a lot more about this book in the coming months, but for now, consider yourselves well and truly introduced.

* * *

Second piece of news: after toying with the idea of running some lunchtime events in Scarborough this summer, I've now gone ahead and booked them. They'll be happening at Woodend, 1-2pm on a Thursday afternoon for six weeks. Here's what I've got lined up:
  • on August 10th, James Nash will be sharing his classic sonnets and some brand new ones, as well as discussing nine years of Valley Press history with myself.
  • on August 17th, Helen Burke will be celebrating the release of her Collected Poems, performing highlights from forty-eight years of writing.
  • on August 24th, a selection of Yorkshire Anthology contributors will be taking a trip through that marvellous volume, led by co-editor Oz Hardwick.
  • on August 31st, Nora Chassler will be taking you on a guided tour of Madame Bildungsroman's Optimistic Worldview (and what a view it is).
  • on September 7th, Cath Nichols will be launching her new collection of poetry This is Not a Stunt (more on that in a future newsletter).
  • on September 14th ... author to be confirmed, watch this space.
I hope some of that sounds tempting. It's £5 to attend, or £4 concession, and you can book the complete series of six for £25 (or £20 concession). Tickets can only be purchased from the Woodend reception, or by calling them on 01723 384500.

In the past I've often been heard to say, somewhat snootily, 'Valley Press is not an events company', and have stuck religiously to the view that publishing a new book is a noble cause that creates an everlasting achievement... while events are fun for an evening and then they're gone. Recently I've come to realise how narrow-minded this is, which brings us to today's third piece of news: the appointment of Vanessa Simmons to the new post of 'Events Manager' at Valley Press.

Vanessa spent nine years as the Events and Communications Officer at York St John University, and handily has a BA and an MA in Literature Studies, so really knows her way around the literary world. Her key missions are 1) to arrange many more events for VP authors, and 2) to improve the quality of existing events... she has some big ideas. In our first conversation about the role, we concluded that publishing a book was like installing a streetlamp, while running an event was like letting off some fireworks; and from now on, Valley Press will be doing both.

* * *

The last thing I wanted to mention is that the increasingly infamous Madame B has now leapt from the pages of her eponymous book and made it onto Twitter. You can 'follow' her unique worldview in 140-character form here, and of course the book (and its luxury hardback twin) can be found here.

Next week: a few words from Tess, our Submissions Coordinator, on how things have been going in that department since she swept in to work her magic...

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 9 June 2017

This week at Valley Press, #58: 'Madame B.'



Dear readers,

Jamie here – I'm back, nursing an election coverage hangover after staying up far too late last night. For those outside the UK (or those who get their current events fix solely from this newsletter): it was a draw, pretty much. The winners felt like they lost, the runners-up felt like they won, and the rest don't know what to think...

Once again the split of public opinion was pretty much even, reminding us that, to some extent, this is a world divided into two halves. But everyone is welcome at Valley Press; so long as you agree that the world would be a better place with a few more books in it.

* * *

Talking of which: due to an endless stream of lively newsletters, I don't think anyone has noticed that VP hasn't released a new title in the past six months. Sparks appeared in December, and Mountain Stories will be officially released in early July, along with the long-awaited Today the Birds Will Sing – meanwhile, not so much as a slim pamphlet has left these hallowed halls.

So what have we been up to? You might call it 'restructuring'. After running myself into the ground finishing our 2016 programme, working from home as a new dad, I took some time in the new year to consider the future of Valley Press... even going so far as to plan it out on the back of an A4 envelope. New systems, new approaches, a new(ish) website, a new office, and most importantly new staff were called for; the goal being to create an infrastructure that could support the publication of 30 titles each year.

With a mixture of confidence and nerves, I can report that's now in place. A quick look at the about page (right-hand column, or at the bottom if you're on your phone) will give you a brief introduction to the team now assembled at VP. I'm hoping at some point, each of them will write a newsletter introducing themselves and explaining what they do – and of course you'll be hearing from a few more interns too, during the summer.

Our new publishing schedule will start in the autumn: three new titles in September, October and November, then two quiet months, then three a month from February 2018. You'll hear about them all here; you could even be the author of one. So stay tuned!

* * *

I'd like to end this week's bulletin by announcing a third title for July 2017 (now we're back up to speed). It's the second VP publication from New-York-born, Edinburgh-based novelist Nora Chassler; her first was the unforgettable Grandmother Divided by Monkey Equals Outer Space, which William Boyd said 'broke all moulds' in a Guardian review.

He's going to need a stronger turn of phrase for this new book. Madame Bildungsroman's Optimistic Worldview is billed as a collection of ‘fragments, pensées and table-talk’, which I've translated as 'flash-fiction and micro-essays' for the sales catalogue (to give less imaginative buyers a fighting chance). The titular heroine is a full-size papier-mâché mannequin who sits at Nora's kitchen table, listening to these jumbled thoughts and very occasionally speaking back... It's a truly mind-expanding experience; but also very funny, and full of great bits of wisdom, like this:

"When we were young there were more boxes and crates with FRAGILE stickers on them; giant video cameras packed tight in grey foam, synthesizers in wooden trunks. You could sit on them on the corner or the subway platform. Am I alone in not wanting everything shrunk as small as possible? Where is everything?"

And this, an affectionate dig at my profession:

"The things publishers look for are not inside books."

The best way to get to grips with this particular book is to read it; so with that in mind, I've laid on an extract for you here. The cover design, as teased in the header image above, can be seen in full here, and is explained in the book (sort of).

A final note: I'm trying the 'limited edition hardback' idea again with this one. For twice the price of the paperback, you can have a hardback, signed and numbered by the author – tempting, I hope? There are still a few left from last time, if you're into that sort of thing, and the poetry of Antony Dunn.

That's all for this week; enjoy the extract if you find the spare 10 mins, and be kind to each other (until the next election anyway!)

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 2 June 2017

This week at Valley Press, #57: 'Moving story'



Dear readers,

Just when you thought you’d seen the last of me – I’m back! Jamie has once again trusted me (Rebecca, an intern and aspiring publisher) to deliver the happenings of this week at Valley Press; things are very busy for him at the minute and there is always another important thing to get done. Before I bring you up-to-date, I just want to say thank you for the lovely responses I received from some of you last week, after my last newsletter – it really made my day. If you want to read my latest blog post about my second week as an intern at VP, feel free to check it out here.

Today rounds up my three-week internship (I am over in Leeds for the Northern Short Story Festival tomorrow) – and I am feeling all sorts of emotions about that. I am sad to be leaving such a lovely team behind, who have made me feel so welcome and part of the VP family; I am also excited, however, to continue my journey on the road to making a career out of publishing – and this internship has really set the bar high. I cannot ever thank Jamie, Laura, Jo and Tess enough, but I can try. THANK YOU, times a million!

* * *

This week has been very exciting. We moved to our new office over the weekend – which was an eventful day, to say the least. Relying on the man-power of six people, we thought ‘how hard can this be?’ but oh, it was difficult. But, after local ceramicist Karen Thompson kindly offered us her services – and her car – we were quickly rewarding ourselves with a huge buffet style lunch, admiring the new office space (see below for the lunch, above for a blurry image of the office). We felt at home in no time, and one of the other reasons I am sad to leave is that I’ll be leaving this office behind!


A quick reminder that tomorrow (03.06.17) is the Northern Short Story Festival in Leeds. It is anticipated to be a great day; I know both Jamie and I are looking forward to it. If you still haven’t made your minds up about whether or not to come – we will have a bookstall set up, which will be a great opportunity for you to check out some of our books ‘in the flesh’, so to speak. Jamie is also appearing on a panel, What do editors look for in a short story? So, for those of you hopeful short story writers out there – here’s your chance to get all the insider info.

Helen Burke’s Today the Birds Will Sing is approaching its final stage, after 20 months of hard work. It is expected that printing will take up to three weeks, so Jamie is now advertising its delivery to be early July. I have worked a little on the book myself and I promise you, it really is worth the wait – it is so beautiful and has been crafted into something spectacular, that both Helen and VP can be proud of.

I'll leave you with three more videos to enjoy of Norah Hanson’s reading, held in Scarborough two weeks ago. You can check them out here: 'Targeted', 'Multi-tasking' and 'Too Soon It Is Over'.

Now, this really is goodbye. Thank you, again, for being patient with me whilst I temporarily took over Jamie’s job and thank you to Jamie for allowing me to take over – it has been a pleasure. Keep on reading, keep on supporting Valley Press, and have a lovely weekend.

All the best,
Rebecca Moynihan, Valley Press intern

P.S. Ken Pickles: I have since found out, after your email, that my surname is particularly popular in the counties of Cork and Kerry!

Thursday, 1 June 2017

Writer's block and postcard stories: Jan Carson on her new book

We are very proud to have published two fantastic short story collections this month: First fox by Auckland author Leanne Radojkovich and Postcard Stories by Belfast author Jan Carson. There are of course stories behind all stories, and we asked Jan to tell us about hers.

* * *

By the end of 2014 my imagination was almost worn out. I’d just returned from two months in America promoting my first novel, Malcolm Orange Disappears, and researching a book about Bob Dylan. I was juggling a more than full time day job plus the onslaught of speaking engagements and interview requests which seem to come hot on the heels of a new book. I wanted to write some short stories but every time I sat down at my lap top the inclination evaporated and I’d find myself fiddling about on Facebook or simply falling asleep, (there are, it has to be said, both positive and negative aspects to being the kind of writer who likes to write in bed). I had very few ideas. This was not normal for me. I have always been blessed by an overleaping imagination. My parents, who knew me as a non-stop talker long before they knew me as a writer, aren’t quite as romantic. They call it a tendency to exaggerate wildly and take most things I say, both on the page and off, with a generous pinch of salt. Still, my imagination has served me well over the years. I’d never before been short of ideas for stories, so much as the time to actually get them written. In December 2014 I found myself, for the first time in my writing career, exhausted and without any ideas worth developing.


Jan Carson, author of Postcard Stories
Now, with hindsight, I have come to realise that this might have been a good time, to relax, rest and catch up with my creative self. But I am not very good at resting, and writing is the only way I know how to relax, and I am, (I’m finally ready to admit), a dreadful overachiever. So, instead of taking a wee break from writing I began the New Year by setting myself a ridiculous challenge. I would write a short story every day for the duration of 2015. This would force my imagination back into fifth gear. This would get me writing again. This, I quickly discovered, would feel like trying to push a particularly unwieldy elephant up a hill for 365 days straight. Thankfully, I’d limited myself to the two hundred or so words per day which I could, with cramp-inducing care, squash on to the back of a regular postcard. By January 8th I’d realised my mistake. There were still 357 days left in the year and I was already fed up forcing myself to find ideas, to develop ideas and squeeze these half-baked ideas on to tiny pieces of cardboard, but I hadn’t left myself any room to back out. I’d already recruited 365 recipients for my Postcard Stories. I’d already promised I would post stories to friends in South Africa and China, and slightly less exotic, Dundonald. If I didn’t knuckle down and write the stories, people, (including small children and very elderly ladies), would be disappointed. I couldn’t be the responsible for disappointing old people so I got writing.

By mid February the art of finding a daily story had once again become instinctual. I would listen in the line at Tesco, find myself all ears on the bus to work, eavesdrop on my colleagues and devour Radio 4 documentaries with an appetite I hardly recognized. My imagination went from first to fifth gear in a matter of weeks and by the time I’d completed the project on the 31st December – the last Postcard Story dropping into a Portrush postbox on a stormy New Year’s Eve at the North Coast – I was seeing potential stories everywhere. It is testament to the success of the experiment that I was to spend the entire first fortnight of 2016 resisting the inclination to write about all the Postcard Story prompts I kept stumbling upon as I made my way from one end of the day to the other. I closed the book on Postcard Stories, started a new novel and was grateful to have my imagination back. I never, for a minute, thought that my little postcards would have a life beyond the various fridges and mantelpieces they’d landed upon. They belonged to a season in my life which hadn’t been the easiest and I was thankful for them, but ready to move on.

However, last summer, when the Emma Press expressed an interest in publishing a collection of the Postcard Stories, and I took them out of storage to begin re-reading them in order – January through to December – I began to realise that they were more than just snapshots of a difficult year. Each one was a little anchor connecting me to a person, or family, who had had some part, however small, in shaping the stories I tell. There were postcards to my parents, my cousin in China, my old housemates from my years living in Portland, Oregon, university friends, now relocated to exotic places like South Africa and Bristol, the older people I’ve grown to know and love through my arts practice. I started to get excited about curating a little collection of these short stories. This would be a snapshot of so many of my most important people. This would be a way of giving something back to them; a small token of my gratitude for the part they’d played in shaping me. I chose my epigraph from Sam Allingham’s beautiful short story collection, The Great American Songbook, “your life so full of people, you can hardly believe it will ever end,” because this is a collection as much about the people who inspired these stories, as the stories themselves.

I am grateful to the Emma Press who immediately understood the spirit of this pamphlet, who held each little story gently and coaxed the goodness out of it, so the editing process was a joy rather than a trial. I am grateful also to the fabulous illustrator Benjamin Phillips who caught the spirit of the stories and created images which are both beautiful and very human. It is such a lovely object of a book because of all their hard work. It is such a pleasure to be able to give this back to the fifty two friends included in the pamphlet and the three hundred and thirteen others who we couldn’t quite squeeze in, but are nonetheless important, for having helped me remember why I began to write stories in the first place.

Postcard Stories

ISBN 978-1-910139-68-4 / RRP £6.50
Publication date: 16th May 2017
Pages: 80 / Stories: 52 / Illustrations: 6
READ MORE / BUY NOW

Friday, 26 May 2017

This week at Valley Press, #56: 'Stick together'

Dear readers,

This week, you’re not hearing from Jamie, your usual bearer of Valley Press-related news – instead, you’re hearing from me, Rebecca, one of the lucky interns working for VP this summer. You can check out a blog post about my first week as an intern here. So, whilst Jamie is busy working on other important things, it's my job to make sure you’re all up-to-date on what has been happening this week.

Of course, it goes without saying that this week has been a tough one. With the news of a terrorist attack in my home city of Manchester, there has been a strange atmosphere lingering in the air. What happened was devastating, but the love we have witnessed since the event; the people of Manchester offering victims a place to stay, the tireless work of the emergency services, and the kindness of strangers in the aftermath, have shown us that love is stronger than hate.

The important thing to take from this tragedy is that we have to stick together in the face of evil, and we showed that this week – it was beautiful to see the support given to the people of Manchester. Even though the events made me feel so far away from home, I felt the love. Sharing this newsletter feels unimportant in contrast, but maybe it's more important than ever? The fact we have this community, this newsletter, is an opportunity to spread the message that we must come together as one. As our friend Stephen May wrote on Facebook, it's a victory “every time we gather together to celebrate freedom of expression”. It is important we keep in our minds what happened, that we take time to grieve and remember the victims, but it is also important to carry on.

* * *

I am aware that Jamie has already shared the news, in a previous week, about VP's exciting new Chinese translated books project – but, it has now caught the attention of The Bookseller, the go-to magazine for all things publishing. They have written an article this week all about the project, which you can see for yourself here. Since the news spread about our project, there has been a real buzz within the Chinese literary community across Twitter – which is promising!

On Saturday 3rd June, Jamie and I will be attending a literary event in Leeds city centre, a fairly new opportunity to appear on the scene – the Northern Short Story Festival. The day will see lots of published authors come together, along with editors and publishers (Jamie is appearing on a panel!) It’s open to the public, and there are some great workshops to get involved with, but it looks like they’re selling out of tickets quickly, so make sure you head over to their website if you’re interested in attending.

As I’m sure you all know, our new website went live last week. However, it unfortunately experienced some teething problems. The site had a bug, which meant that when some of you ordered books (between Friday 19th at 11am, and Tuesday 23rd at 11am), the orders weren’t being processed properly, which meant no payment was collected, and we weren’t informed of any orders. The issue has since been resolved, so if you would like to try again with your order, please do.

And finally, an update on Helen Burke’s Today the Birds Will Sing: the typesetting of the poetry has been completed, all 248 pages! The book is still available for pre-order, with a definitive delivery date to be announced next week.

* * *

And that is all from me! You are now up-to-date on what has been happening here at Valley Press. I hope you all have a lovely week ahead, and it was a pleasure to act as a stand-in deliverer of news for Jamie.

All the best,
Rebecca Moynihan, Valley Press intern

Friday, 19 May 2017

This week at Valley Press, #55: 'When we were winners'



Dear readers,

This week, Valley Press won its very first literary award. Remembering Oluwale, an important and poignant collection of writing inspired by the tragedy of Leeds immigrant David Oluwale, was voted 'Best Anthology' at the 2017 Saboteur Awards. It was a moment of great satisfaction for the many contributors, including editor SJ Bradley and co-organiser Max Farrar (pictured below attending the ceremony), and of course the book's designer, our own Rosa Campbell. I was delighted too, even though my sole contribution was saying 'yes, we must publish that!' this time last year.

Sarah (SJ Bradley) had this to say shortly afterwards:

"It is so wonderful to have Remembering Oluwale recognised by the Saboteur Awards. This is a book which faces up to a shameful episode in Leeds’ history, and persuades the city to do better. David Oluwale was a man who could so easily have been forgotten – at the time of his death, the only official records left about him were the arrest records left by the police who victimised him, and papers from a psychiatric institution. It’s a testament to the resonances of his story that so much wonderful and powerful writing has come about and continues to do so. I am so proud to have been a part of it."

The news of our win, and subsequent reactions from the reading public, inspired me to finally finish the Kindle version of the book, which you can now access here. A half-finished file had sat on my hard drive for many months; the complexity of the formatting (with notes, and a multitude of page layouts) had discouraged me somewhat, and I was able to tell myself: 'they've got the paperback... Kindle publications are old news.' But I knuckled down on Tuesday afternoon and got the job done.

Leeds residents can attend an event celebrating Remembering Oluwale on Wednesday June 7th at Outlaws Yacht Club, from 7.15. This also seems an ideal time to announce that some of the team behind the anthology (including SJ) are lauching a new project along similar lines; a competition which leads to an anthology in support of a good cause. Entries aren't open yet, but you can read the details in the left-hand column here. We'll be publishing the resulting book in March 2018.

As promised, here are Sarah and Max at the Saboteur ceremony:


The other big news this week is that we have a new website. Not entirely-from-scratch new, but built 'on top of' our previous website by original designers Askew Brook.

As well as new functionality – you can now contact a department directly, and audiobooks and hardbacks can be listed alongside paperbacks – it has a new design. Less big blocks of turquoise, more white space, and we can now choose an 'accent colour' for each book, as well as upload a second image (which will sometimes be the back cover, sometimes an object photo).

You can see the new design firing on all cylinders on the Remembering Oluwale page (if you haven't already visited that by now!) It'll be a while before we've added the new images and colours to every book, but we'll get there eventually.

I hope you approve of the new site; these changes all came about by talking to VP fans over the last twelve months, so I'm hoping this version of the site will last us a good few years. If you have any feedback, or spot a bug, let us know.

* * *

Helen Burke update: we're very close to finishing the "primary typesetting" (a process I described last week). Tomorrow could be the day!

And finally, for those who missed Norah Hanson's reading last night at Wardle & Jones, our latest intrepid intern Rebecca has edited and uploaded a video of her poem 'Spark', which you can watch here. Enjoy!

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 12 May 2017

This week at Valley Press, #54: 'Corner office'



Dear readers,

It's been another hectic, eventful week; and once again I'm not at liberty to tell you about most of it. One more email from various sources would unlock a wealth of news... but for now, let's see what I can mention.

One thing I can reveal is that we're moving office again – cue newsletter readers yawning in unison – but hang on, it's for good this time! The office I imagined would be Valley Press headquarters 'one day, when we make it big' came onto the market, and we'll be based there from 1st June. For those who know the Woodend building in Scarborough (formerly home to the Sitwell family), it's the first floor corner office, pointing towards the Crescent. I've skillfully highlighted it on the header image above.

Our weekly Helen Collected update, as promised: we've got the skeleton of the book assembled, we know where all the illustrations need to go, so the next step is to format them all and place them in. After that, it's a question of assembling the notes section, and the indexes, then we can book a printer and get a firm delivery date! Fingers crossed we'll have that for you by the next newsletter.

Finally, in brief: there was a tiny bit of publicity about Mountain Stories in the Yorkshire Post this week (thank you Mrs Henry). Saturday will reveal whether Remembering Oluwale has won its category in the Saboteur Awards, with SJ Bradley attending the ceremony on our behalf. And don't forget Norah Hanson is reading in Scarborough this coming Thursday; a few tickets still available – see last newsletter for details.

That's all for now, back to the grindstone!

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 5 May 2017

This week at Valley Press, #53: 'Bless this Handbag'



Dear readers,

This week was filled by the pursuit and registration of two exciting new titles, recruiting one more person for our burgeoning team, and behind-the-scenes prep for two more big bits of news – but I can't announce any of that today!  It'll all be detailed in some future newsletter; there's enough happened this week to fill five editions.

Meanwhile, Helen Burke and her fans are chomping at the bit for her Collected Poems, which we've still not finished. I'm going to commit to weekly updates on that book until it's in your hands, starting now:

Currently we're doing the typesetting, which used to involve bits of metal type but now refers to designing 'the bit inside the book, where all the words live' (that's what I tell people, if they ask). As with most aspects of this title, we've taken the hardest route, and are attempting to individually centre each of the 250+ poems on its particular page – they're still aligned left, of course, but the resulting block of text is then centralised, a process that has to be done pretty much by hand.  That's our usual style, and it looks great; but it's not quick. For a standard poetry book I'd set aside a few solid days for this stage, and Helen's Collected is no ordinary book!

The next step is adding the many illustrations we have planned, which brings its own challenges – I'll speak about that next week, perhaps.

* * *

In other news: details of Norah Hanson's reading in Scarborough have been confirmed, her first here for a couple of years. It starts at 6.30pm, on May 18th, in Wardle & Jones bookshop on Bar Street. Tickets are £5 and include a drink, and can be procured by visiting the shop or calling 01723 353260. Hope to see some of you there.

As a company, we've been a bit lax on events recently, and I'm thinking about dipping my toe back in the water. I'd like to put on a recurring series of nights in Scarborough, each featuring a VP author, but currently have no good ideas for a format or a catchy name. If you're a local person who'd attend such events, why not get in touch and let me know what would get you out of the house on an evening/afternoon? (If you're not local, apologies for essentially wasting your time for two paragraphs!)

On a final note, I'm pleased to report that petition I mentioned a couple of weeks ago soared past its target – partially thanks to you lot, so well done! Follow the Shaw Mind Foundation and Headucation to keep up with the progress of that issue, if interested.

I feel like I still haven't done enough for Helen Burke fans today, so please accept another great poem by Helen at the end of this newsletter. Another busy week ahead, see you on the other side!

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher




Bless This Handbag

by Helen Burke, from Today the Birds Will Sing: Collected Poems

At crucial moments of my life
you will find me ironing.
A trick learnt from my mother.
She always smoothed things out,
made peace between warring parties.
Now, the only creases left are around her eyes.

We meet in town, for coffee
and some sort of a cake.
She says she’s taking sugar in tea again,
and perhaps I should.
I don’t look well. Much too pale.

I manoeuvre the talk onto politics.
The Gulf, the Catholic viewpoint,
the new outlook on water births, legalising pot.
Undeflected, she overrides me with
a brief statement on
meringue and eggs you couldn’t get in the war, then
back we go to my own queer pallor.

I wish I’d put more blusher on.
She toys with me like a footballer, playing me back and forth.
Or as if we’re in a trench and she can constantly order me
over the top.
The confrontation is endless.
I wish I could learn this trick from her.
I wish I knew how the war could be won.
I wish I could eat meringue that fast.

I will my cheeks to glow with health as
she leads me across the No-Man’s-Land of
combinations and corsetry, of
hosiery appliances and multi-size inner soles.
Everything the colour of a rich tea biscuit.

Playfully, she tweaks at a string vest as we pass.
‘Call that a changing room? I wouldn’t send a dog in there.’
Like a russet bomb, her handbag is ticking.
It is bright scarlet, goes with nothing that she wears.

Patiently, she shows me something that doubles as
an omelette scoop and a thing for killing wasps.
‘If you’re going to wear green for God’s sake, do it on a Wednesday,’
she says,
and leaves it at that.
We narrowly miss a rail of pinnies.

Slowly we make our way to the bus stop.
Even this much walking is too much now.
I promise to eat more, but to smoke
and go out less.
She waits for the bus, handbag clutched stoically.

Inside it I can glimpse
two tins of rice pudding
and a bottle of Lourdes water – in case of emergency.
She climbs onto the bus. Hands me a separate package.
It’s the third tin of rice pudding.

Even as the bus rounds the corner
I can still see the handbag, gathered to her,
its words of wisdom
like a million sun’s rays, glinting, fabulous.
Eradicating all conflict, going over the top.

Wednesday, 3 May 2017

All about Aunts: Part Two

Our Anthology of Aunts will be launching in a couple of weeks! The anthology focuses on exploring the role of aunts, it seemed fitting to asked some of our poets to write on their own experience of aunts; the aunts that they have known, their role as an aunt, and influences on their poems. 

* * *

Jan Heritage 


The Joyces in my poem are an excitable, cardigan-toting gaggle, collectively representing my many aunts and great aunts, all of whom came from Burnley, Lancashire and were the daughters of cotton weavers. So there is perhaps a suggestion of a factory outing here; of general giddiness and letting go.
In reality, many of my aunts await better poems from me: quieter and more nuanced words to hint at their fortitude in the face of two world wars; the loss of husbands, fiancés, brothers; the loss of children to measles and limbs to bombs.

The aunts I was lucky enough to know well had grit and wit in equal measure; made it their business to survive, enjoy themselves and be whole-hearted in their engagement with the lives that came their way. They loved to advise and judge – and I loved it when they did.

Their stories preoccupy me, as do their young faces in black and white photographs.

My last aunty died a few weeks ago. At 90 plus she was very much the tail-ender of an earlier generation, but remained fit, very fashion-conscious and inspirational to the end. I’m even more aware that I have to hurry up and write my own anthology of aunts before their names are lost: Clara, Alice, Martha, Edith, Sarah, Eva, Florence, Kathleen, Barbara, Mary, Elizabeth, Jane, Winifred, Jessie – and Joyce.

Gill Learner 


Gill’s aunt Bob
Adelaide Marie (known first as ‘Blossom’ then ‘Bob’) was born in Australia in 1897 while my grandmother was on tour with the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company (or that’s the story!). She was the oldest of the Pollock children. Ilma Heloise (1900) known as ‘Bill’, was born in Hampshire, as was Tommy, who died of peritonitis having served on HMS Excellent during WW1. Mum (1910) was the youngest. (My husband was bewildered by these oddly-named Aunts and was never quite sure which was which.)

Bob married Roy Matthews in 1919. The certificate said she had ‘no profession’ though she had served as a nursing auxiliary during the war. She was also a talented pianist and for many years played for silent films. The Matthews, who had one son, lived first in Hampstead, later Solihull, where I attended grammar school. I often used to call in on my bike-ride home and the house usually smelled of rising dough; I have the wooden bowl, now cracked, in which it proved by the hearth. (I also have a lovely satin-glazed pottery coffee-set of hers, stamped 1947.) She served as a Labour councillor during the late ’40s/early ’50s.

After Roy’s death in 1953, Bob bought a New Forest bungalow called ‘Tidbatch’. My parents eventually moved south from Shirley and lodged there while house-hunting. My sister Jen, also now nearby, helped Mum nurse Bob in her final illness and the bungalow was bequeathed jointly to them in 1976. Jen and her husband Jim live there still.


Joan Michelson 


Aunt Syl was six years old when she fell ill with polio. Her sisters took turns rubbing her stricken leg. My mother shrugged, “Did this help? What did we know? The doctor said keep rubbing.”

In my grandma’s eyes, she’d become a girl no man would marry.

In time, she discarded her wheelchair, her metal brace, her wooden crutches and her hooked cane. On her right foot, she wore a heavy elevated shoe, witch-black and thumping like thunder. She was studying to become a social worker.

Then my mother said that a woman could live a good life without marrying and we girls should learn that now.

Aunt Syl took a job six hundred miles away and was gone for forty years. When she came home, she moved into a facility for lower income seniors. Morris was the helper resident who carried her luggage up to her apartment. 

Why did Morris marry her seven years later when she was eighty-two?

With her full breasts, narrow waist, and constant blinking, she was cute as a doll. Her spirit was ready and eager. She knew her worth. And she believed in God and life-long learning.

On behalf of my mother who had been dead for many years, I attended Aunt Syl’s bridal shower. The question we debated: Should Aunt Syl let her apartment go or to keep it so she could come and go?

Of nine siblings, five older and three younger, Aunt Syl is the only one alive.

Kim Russell 


When my mum gave birth to me just over a month after her nineteenth birthday, she and my father were living with my maternal grandparents; it was a bit of a squeeze and money was tight. Dad had not long left the Royal Engineers due to a serious injury. Being an only child, Mum didn’t have any sibling support, but she had cousins and my father’s three sisters, one of whom was Janet. We spent a lot of time with her and she once gave me a ‘walkie-talkie’ doll as a present.

Kim’s aunt Janet (with the dark hair) 
I was two and a bit when my sister came along and I know Mum struggled. She and my grandmother had both contracted TB and it was difficult coping with two young children. Mum was glad of Janet’s company and a chance to relax with someone closer to her own age.

When I was four, Janet, who was catering manager at Streatham Locarno, organised a birthday party for me there. I remember sliding across the polished dance floor. Around the same time, she took me on holiday to Clacton with her boyfriend and his boxer dog. It wasn’t socially acceptable for an unmarried couple to go on holiday together. I can only assume they pretended to be married and I gave them some kind of credibility!


Simon Williams


The poem was written about my aunt Beulah, the youngest of my mum's sisters. Although she never had children of her own, it was always a joy going to visit her, as she knew exactly how to inspire me with whatever she suggested doing. As it says in the poem, this visit was while my mum went into hospital to give birth to my sister and I was six at the time. I must have stayed with her and my uncle for about 10 days and each day she had some new idea to keep me amused. My uncle was perhaps the most avuncular of my uncles, a studious man, serious but kind and a lovely counterpoint to my aunt's light touch on everything she did.

Kathleen Jones


Kathleen’s aunt Hilda
Hilda was actually my great aunt, but I come from a large extended family where the ‘greats’ were sometimes younger than my parents. Hilda had been one of five girls, but three of them died of Tuberculosis - a big killer in working class communities before WWII. The family came from Ireland, originally to work in the cotton mills of northern England, but by the time Hilda grew up the mills were closing and she got a job working in the Carr’s biscuit factory. She was one of a generation of women affected by the dearth of male partners after both the first and second world wars, which was a great loss because she was a quiet girl who had no ambitions beyond a family life for herself. How she came to be engaged to Fred, another member of the Irish community, is a mystery. He was younger than her, the only child of a widow living a few doors down the street, and afflicted by ‘nerves’.

The adults used to talk about Hilda and Fred when they thought we children weren’t listening. But of course we were! There was a lot of whispering about his reluctance to ‘be a proper man’. My forthright Aunt Clara was given the task of ‘having a word’. I think now that he was probably homosexual, but back in the fifties and sixties there was a great deal of ignorance about such things. For Hilda it was a tragedy that denied her the chance to have the children she longed for and it wrecked her mental health. The drama was played out against the background of my childhood and adolescence and it had a big effect on my view of relationships and marriage. I still feel regret that I wasn’t able to be more of a surrogate child to her.

Winifred Mok


The modern family unit may be getting smaller as we climb the family tree, but the extended family continues to branch outwards. My parents’ siblings and cousins, who belong to the ‘Aunts and Uncles’ category in relation to me, make a multitude of curious connections.

The challenge is finding someone old enough to draw the lines, who can still remember people by their names rather than their titles. In my culture, aunts and uncles are literally numbered; I refer to my grandmother’s cousin as my ‘Tenth-Aunt-Grandma’. The importance of knowing your history shows your awareness (or lack) of your relation to others. Sometimes far-off relatives would visit, and not knowing our connection, I would not know how to address them. Embarrassingly, it took me years to realize that some old ‘family friends’ were, in fact, blood relations (counting back a few generations). My mother’s youngest uncle’s daughter, who is younger than me, is generationally speaking, my aunt (!!!)

In traditional Chinese families, what you name your child directly indicates the generation they belong to, so you can (somewhat) deduce your relation to someone who shares the same surname. For example, my female cousins on my father’s side share a name with me (so out of three Chinese characters including our surname, we all share two), and refer to me as a ‘sister’ rather than ‘cousin’. If I ever come across someone who shares the same two characters as my mother and her sisters’ names, I will have discovered another aunt!

Rob Walton


Growing up I was blessed with many aunts on my dad’s side of the family. He was blessed with lots of brothers and sisters. My mum was an only child, so from her I had those ‘aunts’ who weren’t blood relations, but were always there for us. There are fewer of them now, and my poems in the anthology are intended to celebrate them, and my mum, and a time and place – my happy childhood on the Riddings Estate in Scunthorpe. The poems are based on truth; though they may contain inventions. On a recent visit to my mum and dad I went to see my Aunty Brenda (and Uncle Reg) for the first time in many years. I was so pleased I did, and so glad of the warm welcome I received.  When I think of my aunts I think of love and food and happiness. And laughter over the odd glass of Babycham.


* * *
The Emma Press Anthology of Aunts is available to buy on our website.

Friday, 28 April 2017

This week at Valley Press, #52: 'Mountain Stories'




Dear readers,

A book launch was held this week in the city of Xi'an, in the Shaanxi province, Northwest China. Word on the street is that esteemed local writer Ye Guangqin has work coming out with an English publishing house ... apparently (it is whispered) these publishers have close ties to Her Majesty the Queen, are responsible for some of greatest works of literature ever to be laid down on the printed page, and arrange all this from a castle on the English coast (while famous cyclists pass underneath, for their entertainment).

The name of this prestigious organisation? Valley Press, of course.


The green speck on the above picture is a stack of Mountain Stories, our next-but-one publication, due to hit bookshelves in July. (The next project is still Helen Burke's book, which is currently in the middle of typesetting – Jo claimed on Thursday that we're 'getting close' to finishing, which I was happy to hear! More on that next week.)

So how did the work of an acclaimed Chinese author travel all the way from Xi'an to Scarborough, and how did the resulting books make the five thousand mile journey in the opposite direction; from a shelf in our humble office to that grand table in Northwest University? The answer to the second is: by plane, I guess, and the first is a long story of chance encounters and deeply engaged literary people at both ends (particular thanks due to Robin Gilbank and Professor Hu Zongfeng, pictured above with the author and other key staff at the university.)

You may not have heard the word Shaanxi before, or be particularly familiar with the bestselling Chinese-language authors who call that province their home, but you're about to be: in an unprecedented arrangement, we've signed an agreement to publish a whole series of titles from the region's finest authors, in 2018 and beyond. Translated with great care by the team in Xi'an, then edited and proof-read by native English scholars, these books offer an astonishingly fresh literary experience for UK readers. I'm excited; it's something genuinely new for us all to get to grips with.

What kind of writing should you expect? I've put up a sample from Mountain Stories here; one of my favourite extracts, describing the author's struggles to film a TV drama in a remote Chinese village. If you've read and enjoyed that, and want to know more about the book and the author, all the details are on our website here (and you can buy, of course! Remember to apply your 10% subscriber's discount code, TENFOREVER).

If you are fluent in Chinese, you can read their side of the story here (Google translate isn't much help!), but otherwise I think that's enough info for the time being. More later in the year. In other news this week: Norah Hanson will be reading in Scarborough on May 18th, details to be confirmed – keep that evening free if interested – and there's some truly fascinating anecdotes about Aunts from Emma Press writers on our blog, in honour of their latest anthology. You can't say we don't give you anything to read!

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

All about Aunts: Part One

The Emma Press Anthology of Aunts will be launching in a couple of weeks! The anthology focuses on exploring the role of aunts, it seemed fitting to asked some of our poets to write on their own experience of aunts; the aunts that they have known, their role as an aunt, and influences on their poems.

* * *

Anita’s aunt Freda

Anita S. Pulier 


My father’s unmarried older sister Aunt Freda was completely devoted to my parents and us three kids.

I took her for granted. At every holiday and birthday she was there. If any one of us needed something she was ready to help. Of course, she had her odd ways and pronounced idiosyncracies... to me they were endearing.

 On her death bed she confessed to me that in all the years I had assumed she was alone she had had a secret lover, the owner of the large meat distributor where she had been the office manager.

He became the butcher in my poem “The Butcher’s Diamond” which is the title of my first full length book that Finishing Line Press is publishing this year.

Gill McEvoy 


My outstanding memory of this aunt is this: one day when this aunt was staying with us my mother demanded I take Aunt Vi out walking just so my mother could get on with cooking lunch (Auntie Vi was doing her usual bit of talking away about the insubstantial and my mother was a pragmatic soul who simply wanted to get things done). I took my aunt on my favourite walk, over two Gloucestershire hills and up through a wood to a dry-stone wall, beyond which you would always get the most spectacular view of the Severn Plain, with Wales hazy in the distance. As it was uphill to the wall, the view sprang itself on you with a suddenness that took most people by surprise, and no-one, but no-one, had ever failed to gasp at the sheer magnificence of it. Almost everyone I’d taken there would linger for some time to admire and exclaim. But not Auntie Vi. She didn’t even see it. I was truly taken aback for my aunt, having lectured the whole way, reached the wall, climbed over it without breaking stride, carried on down the far side and was still jabbering on and on when we reached home again. She then talked right through lunch, about how cabbages have souls and we shouldn’t cut them, while all the time cheerfully shovelling rabbit pie and buttered cabbage into her yapping mouth. I never took her on another walk!


Anna’s nephew Isaac

Anna Woodford 


One of the best conversations in my life was with someone who couldn’t speak. It was on a car’s back seat somewhere in 2007 with my new nephew Isaac. Being completely clueless on the baby front at that point, I was trying to get him to say words (unlikely at a couple of months old and, looking back, I was obviously sabotaging his nap time but my brother and sister-in-law who were in the front of the car were either too kind or sleep-deprived to say so).

Isaac’s new word was ‘Ah-ba’. I tried him with ‘Aunty’ and ‘Anna’ (egotiscal, much?!) but he kept smiling delightfully and repeating ‘Ah-ba’. In what Oprah might call an ‘A’ha’ moment, I realised he was actually the one teaching me* – to relax and not to rush on to the next thing and to enjoy the experience of communicating without words. My poem ‘Travelling with Isaac’ came from this experience.

*It was one of many things I learnt from my nephew Isaac – although these days, it’s more likely to be the offside rule.


Charlotte Eichler 


The poem ‘Survivors’ is inspired by early memories of visiting my father’s family in Sheffield. My grandfather, Bertold Eichler, came to England from Czechoslovakia in 1939. He was Jewish and had been politically active in smuggling people out of Germany. A local policeman warned Bertold that his name was on a Gestapo list, so he escaped across Poland in an empty petrol tanker. His immediate family died in concentration camps, but one of his close friends, Edith Rosenberg, survived Auschwitz, was reunited with her husband, Otto, and settled in a flat in London.

Edith was a sculptor, and the ‘curled-up figures’ of the poem refer to the dark wooden sculptures of tortured bodies that she made, and which lined her dining room in glass cases. That dining room also had a large, patterned rug hanging on the wall – a Slavic fashion that struck me as strange when I was a child. My brother and I, on family visits to Sheffield and London, would make up strange games to entertain ourselves, including making a bee graveyard in the gardens of my grandma’s block of flats. My memories of our visits to my great-aunts, my widowed Yorkshire grandma, and to Edith and Otto are some of my earliest, and rather confused, so the flat of the poem is a combination of several different places. ‘Survivors’ tries to capture some of the atmosphere of that time for us, as small children who had no idea, yet, about our family’s recent past.

Mary Anne’s mother and her sisters

Mary Anne Clark 


To me, each of my aunts has a different set of memories, associations, and attributes, and I have learned different things about life from each of them. But they have at the same time a single unified identity - ‘the aunties’. They are a matriarchal herd, a stampede of women with their mother, my Nan, who died two years ago, at the head.

This picture is of my mum (front, second from right) and her four older sisters. It is by my aunt, Celia Paul (back, reflected in the mirror while painting). They are all wearing identical white smocks, which makes them look almost indistinguishable to a casual glancer, but which emphasises the differences in their faces and postures to someone who looks more closely. To someone who knows them, they are immediately recognisable as their individual selves. I think I could tell them apart just by their feet.


Hilaire 


Auntie Hil was my favourite aunt. I was so fond of her that I decided, in grade one, that I wanted to be called by my middle name – her name – and wouldn’t answer to the first name my parents had chosen for me. Auntie Hil was cheery and had a lively sense of humour; the sort of person people would strike up a conversation with on the bus or in the street. She often retold these encounters, laced with her infectious laughter. This openness and lack of reserve was alien to me. In my immediate family, introversion was the default mode. She showed me a different way of interacting with the world.

But her most profound, and early, influence on me was as a writer. She was always writing, mostly novels but also poetry, and she never gave up sending her work out, though she had little success. Her example set me on the writing path. After I left Australia and moved to London in my early twenties we occasionally corresponded, and she would end her letters wishing me ‘all power to your writing elbow’.

Auntie Hil died in January 2005, aged just 64. A few months later my niece Ana was born, my parents’ first and only grandchild. Becoming an aunt has given me a new role in the family, one I relish, and was the inspiration for my poem in the anthology.

Rob and his family


Rob Hamberger


Rob and his family After my father left when I was six years old, my childhood and adolescence was surrounded by women: my maternal grandmother Jane, my mother and her three sisters – Suzie, Nettie and Hannah – their half-sisters Alice and Harriet and their cousin Anna. They peopled my landscape, tall as standing stones. Playing with my brothers and cousins on the front-room carpet in my Nan’s flat, women’s voices lilted their continual accompaniment to our games, sharing jokes and stories with each other; another comment chucked into the criss-crossing mêlée of words; laughter suddenly blossoming over my head. Laughter I never fully understood, though I wanted to share it because it made me happy.

Aunt Anna had a great sense of style. When she had a new passport photo taken for our trip to old wartime friends in Holland she sounded delighted as she showed it to us: “It makes me look like a French tart!” She worked for the London Underground at Bethnal Green Tube station. I associate her with singing, especially at the crowded Boxing Day parties in our Whitechapel flat. I catch her singing down the years with my mother. They sway together with drinks in their hands, Aunt Anna balancing a fag between her fingers:
Call round any old time
Make yourself at home – 
My poem came from a workshop led by Naomi Foyle, where she asked us to celebrate a relative. The words flowed easily, as if they’d always been on the brink of being written.

* * *
The Emma Press Anthology of Aunts is available to buy now on our website.

Friday, 21 April 2017

This week at Valley Press, #51: 'Ten per cent'



Dear readers,

Sorry to use a coin in the header again – sometimes finding an appropriate, creative image for what I've got to say is beyond me! (Particularly last thing on a Friday afternoon.) Ten per cent of what, anyway?

Some work is being done on our website, behind the scenes, and as part of that we discussed the reward which newsletter subscribers receive for ploughing through these missives each week. The current system is a touch vague, and doesn't really work as a reward or an incentive, so a new offer has been agreed on: from today onwards, subscribers of the newsletter are entitled to 10% off any purchase through the Valley Press website. Not bad eh? The web guys are working on a system to make that apply automatically, but in the meantime you can use the code TENFOREVER to get your 10% off (named after the period of time we intend this offer to apply).

* * *

In other exciting news: we followed through on our promise in the last newsletter, and submissions for new books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction are once again open at Valley Press. It feels good! Based on overwhelming feedback from last year, the 'form' is now filled out online – you just need to go here and follow the instructions. Please excuse any teething problems with this system; it's very new.

Also, please note we're going entirely paperless with subs from now on. A4 envelopes were wonderful when we had 100 coming in a year, but with 600 (and presumably more in future) the logistics just get too difficult. We actually lost a few envelopes, it turns out – which were posted recorded delivery – so hoping that won't happen again with the new spreadsheet/email system (and the diligent efforts of Tess each Saturday).

Last week I requested more volunteers for our submissions reading group (which I'm thinking of re-dubbing the 'editorial board' in future, sounds more prestigious). Thankfully, there was a big response – you people really are wonderful. Many readers sent CVs and details of their qualifications; wonderful, but definitely not necessary! If you buy and read books, you're qualified. All I need is a brief message, and you're in.

* * *

Finally, I learned earlier today that one of our 2013 interns (and her colleagues... and future generations of UK children) are desperately in need of your help. Stephanie Cox and co. have been working on a petition to make mental health education compulsory in primary and secondary schools; and when I say working, I mean time, expense, effort and sacrifice for months – only to have the rug pulled from under them this week, with their deadline reduced by two months due to the snap election.

They now need to get to 100,000 signatures by May 3rd, if they want the issue to reach parliament; so if you're a UK citizen, please consider signing the petition here, and sharing the link of course. This isn't going to become a regular thing, but I felt this was a particularly good cause that had been particularly screwed by the system.

Next week: details of our China project, at last.

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 14 April 2017

This week at Valley Press, #50: 'Long weekend'



Dear readers,

Happy holidays to all who are starting a 'long weekend'. I'm off today for Good Friday (except for the time it takes to write this newsletter!), but back in tomorrow for our Submissions Coordinator's first day at work. We're hoping to re-open to unsolicited submissions before the end of the month, and the plan is for them to be open permanently going forwards, with a 90-day turnaround (so writers can have an answer within three months of us receiving their sample).

It won't be easy, but it's what should happen in an ideal world, so that's what we'll be aiming for. With our time under the warming sun of the Arts Council at an end (for now anyway), we'll be funding this by requiring submitters to purchase a book – so if you're keen to send us your work, start saving your pennies and eyeing up the backlist!

We'll need more volunteer readers (over email), so the next question is: if you're considering volunteering, but haven't yet, what would seal the deal? The occasional free book maybe? It's not as arduous as it might seem; I'm only expecting the readers to start reading each manuscript. If they don't love it, they can give up straight away, and let us know ... though I'm pleased to say, that hasn't happened much with the work we've been sending out in recent months.

With so much quality writing coming in, I need a second, third and thirtieth opinion to know for certain what Valley Press should pursue – hence this request. I can't thank the current batch enough for helping me with the 2016 manuscripts (still plenty to go!), but if we're to do this job on the timescale mentioned above, it's going to take a community of literature lovers the like of which has never been assembled...

That's almost all I need to say this week, but if you'd like to read a couple of seasonal poems, be sure to dig out my newsletter from last Easter, featuring Di Slaney and Nigel Gerrans. Oh, and I can report Helen's book has finally progressed to typesetting, and there's a nice new review for Antony Dunn here.

This was the fiftieth 'Week at Valley Press' email roundup – hope you'll stick around for the next fifty!

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 7 April 2017

This week at Valley Press, #49: 'Remembering'



Dear readers,

You may recall a book we published last year, titled Remembering Oluwale (with a title like that, how could you forget?) It's returned to the spotlight recently in various ways. One of the contributors won the 'Pitch and Pen' event we took part in during March, and is heading for a solo publication (the slow way – she still needs to write most of the book!) That encouraged me to re-read the anthology, and it's still as compelling a year on.

We're working on another anthology titled Verse Matters, due in November (eye-wateringly brilliant stuff, couldn't be more excited about that one), and during the first meeting today I heard that the editors were encouraged to offer it to Valley Press because of our great work on Remembering Oluwale. Particularly the design; so a big shout-out to Rosa Campbell, if she's reading. (She's very busy with her PhD at present.)

RO's editor SJ Bradley has been working tirelessly to get the book the attention it deserves, and this recently paid off in the form of a shortlisting for the Saboteur Awards. Unlike the typical literary awards, this one won't be decided in a secluded boardroom somewhere; it's a public vote, open until April 30th. Hustling for votes makes me feel a little queasy, but if you do feel compelled to give your opinions on literary matters, you can vote in all the award categories via their website here.

(I also heard SJ is gearing up to edit another 'prize anthology', this one exclusively for short stories – more details later in the year. That's probably a secret though, so shh!)

I'm constantly astonished at how a single project can send out ripples in all directions that don't become obvious until many months, or even years, later; that's been a big lesson from 2017 so far. The Chinese project I've been hinting at (which I will explain soon, I promise) originated from someone attending one of our very first book launches in 2011 – over the years, word spread from that room in Scarborough library to the foothills of the Qinling Mountains, in the middle of China.

That's all I've got to say this week, though after all this it would be remiss of me not to offer you 20% off Remembering Oluwale; use code REMEM at the checkout to claim that. Oh, and I also enjoyed reading this blog post by one of the 'winners' of our 2016 submissions process, Caroline Hardaker, who has a pamphlet coming out in early October. It's a rare insight into what happens after we say 'yes'; something I'm hoping to do a lot more in the near future.

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 31 March 2017

This week at Valley Press, #48: 'Hello!'



Dear readers,

I started the email version of this post by welcoming new subscribers – we've just added all the people who submitted manuscripts in 2016, who indicated they'd be happy to receive emails from us. Hello! We've spent the last four months reading your work and processing those submissions, but as of today, we believe we've sent everyone at least one email letting them know the outcome, good or bad.

So it almost goes without saying: if you still haven't heard from us, please get in touch, as something has obviously gone slightly wrong. If we've called in a full digital manuscript and you're waiting to hear the outcome, you'll need to be patient a little longer; there are still around twenty that I need to read through myself, and as usual I'll need the skills of the digital reading group to back me up. More volunteers would be very welcome.

Here's a photo of the team who finally got the job done: Mrs McGarry in the foreground, our first 2017 intern Luke Taylor in the middle, and 'Assistant Publisher' Jo Haywood in the distance (it was the first day at work for her and Luke). Thanks to all three for fantastic work on this mission, under some pressure!


It all went smoothly, except when four 'subs forms' slid between piles, resulting in those authors getting both good and bad news within minutes of each other – what can I say, we like to keep you on your toes!

In other news, tomorrow is the first day of business for "Valley Press Ltd." after my six years of self-employment. Nothing particularly will change, but with the new staff (and the clearing of the subs pile) it does feel a little like a fresh start, and surprisingly motivating. A new bank account without a single transaction, an unmarked diary for all the staff to use ... a chance to do everything right, from day one. What could be better?

Also this weekend, our friends at Chapel FM have a 'Writing on Air' festival in progress; all kinds of stuff going on (consult their website for details), but VP followers will particularly appreciate Helen Burke's show (noon on Saturday 1st) and Oz Hardwick's (12.30 on Sunday 2nd) (with nods to their collaborators Phil Pattinson and John Tuffen.)

Work continues on Helen's book of course, the next VP publication, and on the many other exciting titles we've got lined up for you in the rest of 2017. Don't go anywhere!

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher

Friday, 24 March 2017

This week at Valley Press, #47: 'Friday Feeling'

Dear readers,

It's Friday – so what is the Valley Press newsletter, traditionally posted on a Sunday evening, doing here? I've decided to move it, permanently; to dedicate some time on a Friday afternoon instead of trying to piece it together outside working hours, over the weekend. You can still read on Sunday if you like!

Last week I confessed the volume of incoming tasks and emails at VP had far exceeded what I could keep up with, and declared they would go undone and unreplied to until I could find some help. So that's been my focus this week, and I'm pleased to report I've found them (or actually, they found me): an 'Assistant Publisher' to share the production and admin work, and a 'Submissions Coordinator' to keep manuscripts moving smoothly, once we re-open to new authors next month.

I'll introduce them to you in future newsletters, once they get their feet under the table and up to speed with the work (which will take a little while, I would think). Make no mistake, this is very good news – a huge relief, in fact! – and is part of the reason I felt able to move the newsletter to a Friday. I honestly think the era of constant delays, missed deadlines and muddling through could be coming to an end. Hooray!

(On a related note: if you're wondering about last year's subs, I'm still hoping to have sent at least one email to everyone by the end of March. We'll continue reading full manuscripts until we've done them all justice.)

* * * * *

More brilliant news came in this week: both of the short story collections we published last year have been longlisted for the Edge Hill Short Story Prize (pretty much the only award for books of this type). Michael Stewart's Mr Jolly and Sue Wilsea's Raw Material will be up against collections from the likes of Susan Hill and Mark Haddon, with the shortlist announced in June and the overall winner in August. The winning author receives £10,000 (and probably sells quite a few books), so wish them luck!

If you'd like to read our entries and judge for yourself, you can have 20% off either (or both) by entering the code STORIED in your 'basket' when shopping on the Valley Press website. Follow the links in the paragraph above to reach the relevant book pages, and click 'preview' once you're there to read some intriguing sample stories.

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Mr Jolly got an airing in Birmingham this week, along with The Boy in the Mirror and Reward for Winter, as Michael, Tom and Di put on an amazing show for some lucky BCU students, lecturers and literature fans in general. I was genuinely blown away by their sets (and the student open-mic was good too!) I don't think I'm ever prouder than at a reading, seeing VP books getting out there into the world.

Here's a photo of the authors, taken just before the event started... as you can see, they meant business. (Confession: I was originally in this photo too, but I didn't get the memo and was grinning widely – looking, as everyone who's seen it has agreed, like a competition winner who borrowed his dad's smart shirt.)


I'll end by recommending a blog post from The Emma Press's Yen-Yen Lu, giving general advice for writers submitting their work; anyone who does that (or is just thinking about it) will gain something from this short article. I've also just heard about a great night of feminist poetry taking place in Oxford on April 8th, featuring our own Kelley Swain and Rowena Knight – details here. Otherwise, that's a full lid; see you next Friday!

All best,
Jamie McGarry, VP Publisher