A Speccy Man Has A Breakdown - day 79

<< Previously

On Thursday I woke early with a feeling that something was wrong with the book.

As I may have mentioned, this first edition is limited to just 250 copies, and when I first announced that I was publishing it myself I did so in emails addressed to little more than 40 people. I had little confidence that I would sell even 50 books, let alone 250.

And I didn’t want to fill my office with boxes of a book that nobody wanted – a book, after all, about a time when I was convinced I was worthless. So my first print run was for just 90 copies. They’re due to be delivered to me, and from me to buyers, early in June.

Since I placed that first order, gratifyingly, my small group of early readers grew much larger and I found that I had sold more than 90 copies of the book. So after lots more procrastinating I paid nearly £1000, on Wednesday, for 75 more hardbacks and a handful of paperback “proofs” to send out as publicity.

Why I procrastinated, I don’t know. It was so easy to order the reprint: I had only to send all the same files to the printer and specify a number of copies.

But I hadn’t yet seen the first printed copies. So perhaps it wasn’t surprising that I woke with a jolt.

I went to my computer and looked carefully at the files I sent. And that’s when I saw the mistake on the back cover.

Rhik Samadder, author of I Never Said I Loved You, had been kind enough to read my book in advance and give me a quote about it. His first words:

“What a tough, shining, fiercely charming thing you’ve made.”

Those were the words I typed onto the back cover of the book. But in the early hours on Thursday I discovered that I’d not typed them correctly. According to this new version, Rhik considered that I have written a tough, shinging, fiercely charming thing.

Aargh. I felt awful, and immediately sent messages to the printer (who probably hadn’t woken yet, let alone got to work), asking if they could place my job on hold.

And they did – which is great, obvs – and I made the changes. But what I can’t change is the mistake on the back of every copy of the first print run, the books that are coming to me early in June. Those copies will be shinging.

A few hours passed. And I concluded that it was perhaps no bad thing to have made a shinging thing. I mean, ridiculous, but also quite funny.

I could have beaten myself up about it, but one of the great things about recovering from a breakdown is learning at least sometimes not to spiral into self-recrimination. Spiralling, right now, would feel like the old default.

What’s more, it actually represents a terrific opportunity. Because now I can write by hand an erratum slip to place inside every copy with that mistake.

I love those! It’s like an author has broken the fourth wall to say, Hello! it’s me, I messed up, but hellooo.

I wonder what I’ll write on it. Suggestions welcome.

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Just 146 copies of the limited edition hardback remain available.
Who else might like one? Please pass this on.

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👉 If you or someone you know is struggling, please call a crisis line (in the UK, Samaritans on 116 123), and / or take a look at Reasons To Stay.

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