tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-136675992011-04-21T23:20:02.422+01:00You couldn't make it upSteve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comBlogger131100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-85143268285377451282009-01-21T08:05:00.002Z2009-01-21T08:14:10.122Z

A belated update to the blog to say that my book is now available direct from publisher Thoughtcat's Lulu shop at only £7.50* plus p&p. This is down from the original price of £10.99.And if you don't think £7.50 is reasonable, Thoughtcat is even offering a limited supply of copies for 'pay what you like', inclusive of p&p.Impoverishedly,Steve* Due to a technical problem the price of the book is

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1932421616125325482007-01-16T11:51:00.000Z2007-01-16T12:10:25.937Z

I'm 'delighted' to hear from Thoughtcat that venerable local organ The Richmond & Twickenham Times reports this week on the story of All My Own Work's publication, under the headline 'Disgraced author's new offering'. There doesn't appear to be an online version of the story as yet, but Richard (or rather 'Ron' as the Times has it!) has done an excellent cut'n'paste job with the press cutting (

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-61896159339760481852006-12-24T11:08:00.000Z2006-12-24T11:53:27.738Z

A Christmas treat! Finally, as promised several aeons ago, here are some more sample chapters from the book. I've decided to skip the rest of Part 1 which was partially previewed here last year and go straight into Part 2, which (all bar the shouting) begins with...Chapter EightWhen I left school and, shortly afterwards, home, all I wanted to do with my life was write. For years I lived in

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-28504585365537178092006-12-24T10:50:00.000Z2006-12-24T11:02:12.334Z

The folks at Thoughtcat Inc, publishers of All My Own Work, reliably inform me that maverick TV documentarist Louis Theroux got in touch recently, initially about the Thoughtcat interview with Graduate author Charles Webb, and then went on to buy a copy of the book. Thanks Louis, you're a gentleman!I just hope he likes it...

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-34836778097115633112006-12-09T08:07:00.000Z2006-12-09T08:28:03.766Z

For readers in the London, UK area, I'm pleased to say that All My Own Work is now available to buy direct from The Open Book, King Street, Richmond, for £10.99 - basically the same price as from Lulu, but without the p&p.The Open Book is an excellent independent bookshop just off Richmond high street, not far from me. I've spent many happy hours in there over the years. As much as I love most of

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1157809476607741172006-09-09T14:35:00.000+01:002006-09-09T14:46:37.013+01:00

I am delighted to report that All My Own Work can now be bought exclusively from www.lulu.com/thoughtcat. I have just received my first copy of the book and can assure you of its high quality. This large-format paperback first edition is priced at £10.99 + p&p. Having tantalised you with the front cover in my previous post, here's the back cover, featuring the Buoy of Orpheus, some yellow paper

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1157058186642264852006-08-31T21:51:00.000+01:002006-09-01T16:57:37.416+01:00

After several months of uncertainty I'm delighted to be able to say finally that ALL MY OWN WORK is to be published very soon. Apologies to all who've been patiently waiting for news and updates to the blog. Much of the the text has been revised and further extracts will appear here in the next few weeks, together with more information about where you can buy the book. All I will say for the

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1122131120960409052005-07-23T16:01:00.000+01:002005-07-23T16:08:47.616+01:00

It felt good to be writing in proper notebooks again, and almost as soon as I came home with them they started to fill up. I carried the small one with me everywhere I went and scribbled down everything that came into my head. After my shifts ended I sat for hours in my room with the larger one, writing and revising page after page, often late into the night. At times I was almost possessed; I

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1121611226198070162005-07-17T15:28:00.000+01:002005-07-17T15:40:26.213+01:00

In the weeks that followed, ideas for novels came to me almost as often as bittersweet memories, and I wrote down everything. My plans for leaving Dungarry were shoved onto a back burner by default: what was going through my head was too important to risk disrupting with such an upheaval, and in any case all my energies were being consumed by trying to keep pace with this surfeit of thoughts as

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1121015015641991432005-07-10T17:56:00.000+01:002005-07-10T18:03:35.660+01:00

Nobody in Dungarry, not even my best friends, knew I was a writer. This wasn’t just because I’d never made any money or a name for myself as one, or that I wasn’t writing then; the main reason was that I hadn’t told them. Because – and this becomes clearer to me every day – I still was a writer despite all the evidence to the contrary. It’s not something I do, it’s something I am, whether I like

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1119608152650263932005-06-24T11:11:00.000+01:002005-06-24T11:15:52.663+01:00

From the moment I first read about the Leonard Sankey New Talent In Fiction competition, I knew I had to take a chance and enter it. There was no middle ground: it was either my ticket out of scrubbing shower cubicles in the Rainfall Capital of the British Isles (unofficial) and, hopefully, back into the arms of my estranged wife, or the latest in a long line of professional, financial, emotional

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1119007360892707062005-06-17T12:14:00.000+01:002005-06-17T12:22:40.900+01:00

It’s gone eleven one Saturday night. I’m sitting at the laptop by the lounge window, writing, drinking wine, waiting for Fon to come home from the restaurant. We haven’t been going out that long, but long enough for her to stay the night once or twice a week. I’ve got Abbey Road on the stereo, the old vinyl LP I’ve had since I was about ten crackling warmly in the evening room. It’s one of

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13667599.post-1118850583574252082005-06-15T14:17:00.000+01:002005-06-15T19:14:07.020+01:00

A few years ago my novel All My Own Work was named a winner of The Leonard Sankey Awards for New Talent in Fiction. Billed at the time as one of the most prestigious literary prizes in the UK, it promised a cheque for £10,000, a place on a top-quality writing course and the guidance of a professional editor. However, as well reported in the media at the time, I was controversially stripped of the

Steve Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16917281758851237864noreply@blogger.com