[Nora's first novel was published by Two Ravens Press, who have a small bio for her here - Nora also has her own website here. That's Nora in the photo above.]
This leads us nicely onto the topic of submissions, which have been coming in steadily since they were re-opened at the start of May - I've probably been getting about two enquiries a day. I've sent out plenty of bad news and one or two bits of good news, but I plan to really tackle the pile towards the end of August. Nora is the first 2015 author to get to an announceable state, but I have an unprecedented eighteen books lined up for 2015 in one form or another - and I'm going for a total of twenty, so two more submitters are going to be getting some good news over the next month or so. I plan to 'leave everything on the field' next year, as they say, so watch this space to see how it goes.
I've spent much of this month working on Helen Burke's new collection, as profiled in Digest #9. At time of writing I've completely finished editing and organising the poems; it's now just a matter of arranging the notes section and deciding which illustration goes where, and then getting the author's go-ahead of course. I'll finish this post with one of my favourite short poems from the book - see you all next week.
Baxter, the dog, is being dragged down the lane.
I feel sorry for Baxter, in fact, most days –
I feel a bit like him.
Pulled this way and that.
Someone behind me with a lead that I can’t see.
Baxter has no idea what his crime is.
(Nor have I.)
Just that he is a dog who takes his time, perhaps.
He investigates. Sniffs too long in all the wrong places.
I can never hear the words – just that she is shouting,
snapping and snarling.
I imagine the teeth are bared – the hackles grizzly and raised.
But Baxter I feel is undeterred.
He will go on being Baxter.
He will go on going on.
There is no cure for being free of mind and will.
Baxter, my friend, my alter ego.
Baxter – I love you.
Go on being, Baxter.
(Run amok – remain a dog with pluck.)
You bark at your side of the walland I will bark at mine.