“Thanks so much for taking the time to chat. Here’s what we’re doing…”

My wife is having a lot of these conversations right now as we work on Queer the Shelves Infinite. Accountants, marketing managers, app developers, authors, readers, reviewers, influencers…the list goes on and it’s a rare day when she doesn’t have a meeting with someone, somewhere on the planet. (She had one the other day with someone in Calcutta, and today with a guy in America.) Given that what we’re building is global, it’s perfect that she’s already talking to people globally.

We spent a chunk of the weekend filming what turned out to be a seven minute video. It’s part of our Kickstarter campaign and we needed it to be just right. Picture that film board closing over and over again: “Take 367.” But we got it done, and loaded, and the right people are now looking it over. It’s another step toward having a safe place for LGBTQ stories—one not subject to the whims or intolerance of politics and religion. A place where readers can go to find the books that might not be available wherever in the world they are. A place authors have transparency instead of opaque and seemingly random financial practices. A place built by authors from the community who give a damn about standing up for our people.

The coolest thing about this process so far, for me at least, is the response. The amount of readers and authors who aren’t just supportive, but excited by what we’re doing, is astounding. People want to be involved. Backers have helped with seed money. Heads of companies are talking Nic through various processes, timetables, and funding things.

One amazing reader has donated FORTY ebooks to the cause to be used as giveaways. Other people in our orbit are being so incredibly generous not just with money, but with time and feedback, too. LGBTQ authors are taking a chance, pulling their books out of Kindle Unlimited and handing them over to us. That’s not just support, that’s belief, and it’s f’ing awe inspiring.

Can you help?

We need our community to stand with us. To help us create something amazing. You can help by signing up as an author/reader. You can help by sharing this post so other LGBTQ people can learn about what we’re doing. You can help by telling the people in your orbit about it and getting them to check it out too. And when we launch our Kickstarter…well, you know what to do.

We need you. Will you stand with us?

So when I was on a Tiktok live the other day with an awesome reader who is all about the book community, I was actually pretty at ease. Know what comes out when you talk stuff through in real time? Passion. The utter, absolute ability to say to someone, out loud, “I love what I do.” And then to share stories about WHY you love to do it.

In this case it had to do with the importance of queer stories. How they have, quite literally, saved the lives of people who felt alone and unseen. How finding them has meant finding a community that is, for the most part, incredibly supportive. (There’s always division and wankerbeasts. That’s just human.) I got to talk about friends we’ve made and cherish via those books, and how several people felt connected enough to some of my work to get the wings from the cover tattooed on their bodies.

That’s no small thing, and it’s incredibly humbling.

In today’s political climate, worldwide, there’s a horrifying shift to the right. We seem to have forgotten our history, and some are more than happy to try to repeat it. We all know that minorities are facing waves of rhetoric and the attempt to derail our rights. Our stories are not exempt from this, and they must be protected. And that means stepping up and not waiting for someone else to do something.

So we’re doing something. Will you join our reading revolution?

Queer the Shelves Infinite is going to be a platform for LGBTQ+ books. It’s going to be a safe place, not run by billionaire companies sucking the toes of right wing politicians. It’s going to be run by people in the LGBTQ community, for the community. It already has a list of backers and the Kickstarter will be coming soon. Readers and authors are signing up on the info page and many authors have already committed to having their books on the site.

The thing is, we need YOU. We need LGBTQ people to spread the word, to jump in, to help us make this happen. We know this is necessary and we’re in it for the long haul, and your support will help us make it happen even faster.

What can you do to help?

Share this post. If you’re on other social media, share it over there, too. Sign up on the info page. Tell authors and readers you know about this great new project starting up and tell them to go have a look too.

Together, we can make this happen. Together, we can create something special for the stories that are so integral to our community. Will you join in to help make something special?

QTS Infinite

Did you know that you can no longer use the word Lesbian as a keyword in your Amazon ads? Did you know that many LGBTQ books have simply…*poofed…

Read more

Tony Challis, 1946-2026

There are weird moments that can stick with you. I don’t mean phone calls that dredge up old memories or life altering diagnoses. I mean the smaller stuff, the bits that maybe should get a sad face emoji and a platitude of some kind.

A writer I know died last week.

Okay, that’s more than an emoji, but stick with me. Tony and I weren’t close. We weren’t friends, per se. We were good acquaintances who knew one another through through the writing network that is really strong in our city. For twenty years we’ve crossed paths and shared stories here and there. He was kind and gentle and open. He liked to chat. And it turns out I know very little about him.

He was single (I think). He loved poetry. And that’s about the sum of it. Why? Why do I know so little about a man I’ve spoken to for years? The last time I saw him was at Queer the Shelves, our LGBTQ book festival. He handed us a copy of his published book of poems, and I said thank you and talked briefly, but I had to scurry off to do other things and talk to other people, since it was our event. I can’t remember what I said to him. I can’t remember how I left. I know I didn’t say good bye when he left the afterparty.

And that was the last time I’ll see him.

I can’t shake the feeling that I did him wrong. I can’t help but feel like he deserved better from me. There are tributes to him all over the internet, showing that Tony was the kind of person who listened, who cared, and who made other people feel heard. We were lucky enough to have him at two of our writing projects and we printed his work in Late Outbursts and Desire, Love, Identity.
It took him dying to make me stop and really think about how we communicate with people and how we never know when it will be the last time we have to tell them we appreciate them or to listen to what it is they have to share. To be present. To really pay attention so that when they’re gone, you’ve existed in their lives in a way you can feel good about. In a way that made them feel good to know you.

Because you may not get another chance.

A half century…it sounds like a lot when you put it that way.

I turn 50 this coming weekend, and to be clear, I never imagined I’d make it this far. I was shocked when I made it to 40, especially given my stupendous breakdown at the end of my 30s; I planned not to come out of them at all.

But I did. And here I am, about to celebrate a birthday I never fathomed coming. My wife celebrated hers last year, and it was truly awful for a multitude of reasons to do with family. I’m hoping to make it up to her one day. I believe we should celebrate our time on this planet; it’s not an easy path for most humans, and to say we survived, we thrived, we managed, is no small thing. We’ve been in survival mode for about a year now, and taking a minute to breathe, to laugh, to relax, to enjoy our surroundings and be present is necessary to fill in the potholes created in our souls over the last twelve months.

Side note: Several years ago I wrote a Greek myth retelling about Medea. I think it’s one of my best works and I’m really proud of it. I adore myths.

When Natalie Haynes released No Friend to This House, also about Medea, I desperately wanted to go see her talk about it on tour. I love her series Standing up for the Classics, where she tells jokes about ancient people from antiquity (a little niche, yes. A lot geeky, for sure).

Before we went to the talk, we stopped for dinner at Wagamamas. Our server was lovely; chatty, sweet, bubbly, and when we told her we were writers who also ran Queer the Shelves Book Festival, she fizzed over like a good champagne. Nic gave her a few of our book cards with QR codes on them, and she hurried off before her grumpy manager told her off for being too friendly. (Is there such a thing in this day and age?)

It was a perfect reminder that queer spaces are still important.

Nikki said there isn’t a queer community there and it would be nice to have one. We’re now OWLs (Older, Wiser, Lesbians) or, as another friend, Tacie, put it, Paleo Lesbians. (As in, Paleolithic dinosaur lesbians.) It can be easy to forget how amazing it is to be surrounded by other LGBTQ folks, and how much seeing yourself in queer stories matters. I smiled for the rest of our time in Bristol when I thought about how sweet Nikki was, and how long ago I might have been similar.

We strolled around Bristol. We sat and stared at fish for hours in the aquarium, we hiked all over looking for the Banksy art, saw loads of other street art, and finally collapsed into the hotel bed to eat microwave meals and watch Iron Man 2.

I work with queer authors. We run a queer publishing business and are starting another. I have a queer network of friends who are a special part of our inner circle. I’m married to an incredible woman who sits through “comedy” shows about ancient myth and who loves me like every day is a gift, even when I’m mired in the tar of my own thoughts.

I’m so lucky I’ve made it this far, and even on my worst days, I’m surrounded by joy.

Humans complicate life. Being human complicates life. Do squirrels have imposter syndrome? Does the cute trash panda stress about the length of a parental illness? Does the beaver concern itself with paying the bills to keep the water behind the logs? Nope. They do what they do out of instinct; survive, live, eat, reproduce. And have some fun along the way. We’ve all seen the bears who play with balls and the tigers who like to snuggle up in giant boxes like any house cat. (Sure, survival can be tough and all that. I know. Don’t harangue me about climate change. You understand the point I’m making.)

But being human? There’s nothing simple about it.

At least, not in Western culture where the outside world has seeped into our DNA to create strands of stress that intertwine with our organs. Worry, anxiety, depression, anger, futility, guilt…Human emotions that weigh heavy, boulders that we carry in a Sisyphean attempt to get to the finish line with some semblance of meaning left in the footprints behind us.

We feel. Damn, do we feel the way life moves through and around us. We watch parents fade and we’re helpless against the ravages of time and illness. We build a business only to watch something we poured ourselves into begin to circle the drain of AI. We look outside and wonder how long we can afford to keep the lights on, and talk about alternatives to a life that was once stable and comfortable. Is being a writer still viable in a world that now has an attention span of 3.5 seconds?

Complications mean we can walk with our heads down, staring at our feet as we force ourselves to keep taking steps forward. But there are clouds reflected in the rain puddles in the gutter. We see the reflection of the azure sky above, dotted with fluffy marshmallows. There is sunshine. The birds swoop and dive and remind us that winds change but our ability to move with them doesn’t. There is hope in the rainbow oil slick edging the white ripples of the cloud.

And that’s what we have to notice too. Hope. Desire, faith, commitment, love, passion, laughter, compassion…we feel all of these. We have access to all of these. In the darkness, on the wet streets shimmering with rainwater, we need to remember that there are clouds in the gutter, but if we look up, we’ll get to see the rest of it.

Look up.

Seventeen years ago there were three of us in a Waterstones conference room. None of us had any following or were well known. But man, did we laugh that night when we put on our very first LGBTQ book festival. It was specifically for authors from our publishing house and there weren’t a ton of us in the UK just yet.

From there, it grew year on year. It changed, sped up, slowed down. Sometimes there was standing room only. Sometimes I blanched at the back as authors spoke to a half-full room.

The festival changed once again when Nicci decided it needed to be more inclusive, and we brought in authors from all over the world, not just our publishing house. It has been an exciting and beautiful change, and we’ve met some really fabulous people over the years. Tickets have once again nearly sold out months in advance, before we even announced the program and who would be there. LGBTQ people want community in a safe, relaxed space, and that’s what we’ve got at QTS.

So, if you’re around about Nottingham, England and want to join us for an awesome day, grab one of the remaining tickets today.

Get your QTS tickets now

The Queer the Shelves Book Festival in June is “officially” sold out. I use quotation marks because I can see that on one particular post a couple people have said they can’t come now and are looking to sell off their tickets. So if you’re in the UK, and you want to come to an friendly, chilled, inclusive book festival, get in touch.

Speaking of queer books, my wife and I have both recently released new sapphic romances. Hers, Unspoken, is the 3rd book in the Windy City series. It’s a beautiful, deep exploration of what happens after the couple rides off into the sunset, and how to fight for the person you love. Mine, Echoes of the Heart, is a sapphic rom-com with total opposites who are on different sides of a gentrification issue. Slow burn and quirky characters abound.

And on that note…come write with us. The women’s writing retreat coming up in October has ONE space left. Are you going to be the one to take it? These inclusive retreats are about giving you the time to write while eating awesome food and hanging out with other writers. We’ve been told these retreats have been genuinely life changing. Will you feel that way too? Let’s find out. There’s only one space left.

It was a hot day in Southern California. I was at a summer day camp; one of those places where kids who have working parents go and spend a few days a week. I must have been pretty young--I’m guessing eight or nine. I was sitting with a group of kids and the camp counsellor (a guy I’d guess was in his teens or early twenties? He seemed old to me, anyway).

The sun caught the hair on my legs and arms, and he exclaimed, “Wow, you’re really hairy. You’re going to have to do something about that.”

My mom caught me trying to use her razor that night. I don’t think I told her why I was attempting to scrape off the peach fuzz of a nine year’s legs.

I was too ashamed.

It’s the first time I remember someone so clearly remarking on my physical being (plenty commented on my strangeness/awkwardness, etc). And I’ve been incredibly aware of my body hair ever since. Years later, a guy in middle school commented on how large my butt was, and I’ve been depressed about the state of that part of my body ever since, too.

Wow. How fast do we develop issues around our physical presence in the world because of a few careless words thrown around by people who have nod idea the splinter they’ve just lodged in your soul? I developed a sense of shame around my body before I understood that no one had a right to tell me anything at all about it.

Maybe that’s why I can write wounded characters. People who have deeper stuff threaded into the fabric of their souls that has become calcified and defines so much of the way they walk through the world.

If you wanted to pre-order it that would help me in the giant algorithm that now defines so much of our lives. It, too, has a couple of wounded characters. And a lot of clumsiness and quirkiness. Because I think those things create some of the best people.

One woman lives by the rules. One woman lives by the stars. And one night is about to change everything.
Marina Fuentes has built her life around one simple rule: win at all costs. With a promotion to partner finally within reach, a relationships isn’t in the cards. But a chance encounter at an art gallery introduces her to a distraction she can’t afford but also can’t resist.
River Rigel lives by instinct, spirit, and the beating heart of her South Side community. All she needs now is someone to love her for who she is. On a random night out, she finds a woman who just might be her destiny.
As opposite worlds collide, something real starts to grow between them. But when Marina’s new client puts River’s world in the crosshairs, they could lose everything, including each other.
A sapphic opposites-attract romance about ambition, community, and destiny. Perfect for fans of ice queens and slow-burns.
Buy now and find out if love can survive when everything else is being torn down.

Pre-order your copy now

I have a launch plan. I spoke to someone incredibly successful who told us to post on social media x3 a day. I’m doing it, despite trying to come up with that much stuff to say that isn’t just, “can you please just trust me and buy the damn book.” Because in real life, I’m not funny. I’m not outgoing. I’m not a people person.

I’m a sarcastic introvert with hermit tendencies and a penchant for four letter words.

And I’m trying to get people interested in a romance when there’s a war happening, gas prices have skyrocketed to the point they’re about to pass the Artemis on its way back down, and there’s utter chaos in my old homeland, where fear, despair, and rage are surfing the waves of an authoritarian regime.

But let’s read a romance with a ghost in it, shall we? Right now it just feels like so much. Too much. I worked in the garden, under the rare English sun, for a few hours and felt a little better. Until I got back to my desk and dealt with the failure of the website I need to do my work, and the crappy numbers on social media despite my intense efforts, and the lack of response from ARC readers. We sent out nearly fifty copies, and there are nine reviews so far.

I’m screaming into a black hole that is seeping into my brain and draining out via tears and sighs.

Being a writer is hard. It has always been hard. I have a feeling Aristotle ran around telling people to read the Poetics. The era and tech have changed, but the desire to get your words into people’s hands hasn’t. But damn, we’re competing on a far grander scale now. The math is daunting: Self-published authors typically need to sell 25,000–30,000 copies, while traditional authors need 60,000+ because they receive smaller royalties (often 10%) per book.

That makes my six pre-orders nothing more than a bit of dust in the cosmos. But I’m going to keep writing, because that’s what we do. We write because we can and we have stories to tell and we’d be lost without that aspect of ourselves. I think, for now, I’ll go sit on my front step and watch my wife paint things on her truck.

It will be more useful than sitting here bemoaning my life choices.

For the last six years we’ve put out an anthology of WLW stories. We invite writers to submit, whether this would be their first published work or their zillionth. But we do give special consideration to those writers who are dipping their toes in the publishing pond because we really, really want to encourage our sapphic queer folk to dive in. And we want readers to find new writers to follow. We’re all in this together, and our stories matter.

We do this for free and we give away the anthology for free. No money is floating around; it’s a community project all the way around, and we’re really proud of that.

Have a story you want to submit? Here are the details. We can’t wait to read it. (And please do share it with the writers in your life who might be interested as well.)

Editors: Robyn Nyx and Brey Willows

Publisher: Butterworth Books

Publication Date: November 1, 2026

Theme: Short stories featuring women loving women (all permutations, including trans and non-binary folks)

The clue is in the title. We’re looking for stories across genres, themes, tropes, and norms. Thrill us with your words. Weave fine stories of romance, erotica, and general fiction. Create characters who defy norms or hold defiantly onto labels that help them define who they are.

We want emotional depth and excitement, instant connections and lifelong love. We want tales of women loving women that are powerful, touching, and maybe even whimsical.

We’re particularly interested in stories from writers who haven’t been heard from much (yet!). If you’re an unpublished writer who can’t seem to get that break or a relatively new author trying to find their place in the published world, send us a story, wow us with your words, and introduce yourself to the amazing SapphFic readership. And if you’re an established author who just fancies throwing in a short story, we’d love to see that too!

Deadline for Submissions: June 30, 2026 (early submission encouraged)

Guidelines for Submissions (PLEASE follow the below):

§ Unpublished short stories only

§ Word count: 2,000 - 4,000 words

§ Electronic submissions only to: sapphfic.eclectic@butterworthbooks.co.uk

o e-mail header: SapphFic Eclectic_ Author Name or Pseudonym _Story title

o MS Word document attachment (story)

o E-mail body: story title, author legal name, pseudonym if any, address, phone number, e-mail address, word count, 50 word bio

§ Story Format:

o Times New Roman; 12 pt

o Double-spaced; standard paragraphing; no HTML

§ General Info:

o Submission receipt within 7 days

o Submission decisions by June 30, 2026.

o Payment: none. This book is free to readers so we can get your stories into lots of TBR piles!

Subscribe now

Recently I was asked to write an article for Pulse Magazine, their quarterly publication, about the nature of being an introverted writer who has to stand up in front of people. Is it persona? A mask? How do you balance those?

I haven’t had a chance to write a think-piece in a while, and I’m glad I did. It stretched old writing muscles and helped me remember just what I feel when I get up in front of an audience, and how other authors feel when they come along to Queer the Shelves, often for their first book appearance. I hope you’ll have a gander.

Read Pulse Magazine here

Especially when I get all the drafts ready and find them *poofed* out of my draft file, and I have to start again.

Despite the stress of publication, of marketing, of screaming into a void full of other LGBTQ authors doing the same, it’s still exciting. It’s still another book out in the world. It’s still your words being read by people who like to read and share what they’re reading. It’s a piece of you, a tiny particle of your soul, that you let flow into the universe. And you hope that the little particle will find the people who need it, who want it, who smile when they take it in.

And that’s an important thing to remember. The business of being a writer is hard. But the beauty of being a writer is that your words touch people in ways you can’t expect.

Okay. I have to go do my marketing. Write on, my friends.

Two women. One fractured marriage. But if they don’t fight for their family, they’ll lose their children forever.

Solo’s world falls apart the morning Janie walks out the door. Left alone with their eighteen-month-old triplets, she vows to do whatever it takes to win her wife back, even if Janie won’t tell her why she left.

Janie thought leaving would keep everyone safe. But when her mother shows up, chasing custody and the triplets’ inheritance, Janie realises the secret she’s been drowning in alone might cost her everything.

Their love might still be there, buried under secrets, fear, and too much pride. But if Solo and Janie can’t find their way back to each other before it’s too late, there won’t be a family left to save.

A sapphic second-chance romance about the love that holds on even when everything else is falling apart. Perfect for fans of emotional slow-burn reunions and families worth fighting for.

Head to the Windy City today

One woman lives by the rules. One woman lives by the stars. And one night is about to change everything.

Marina Fuentes has built her life around one simple rule: win at all costs. With a promotion to partner finally within reach, a relationships isn’t in the cards. But a chance encounter at an art gallery introduces her to a distraction she can’t afford but also can’t resist.

River Rigel lives by instinct, spirit, and the beating heart of her South Side community. All she needs now is someone to love her for who she is. On a random night out, she finds a woman who just might be her destiny.
As opposite worlds collide, something real starts to grow between them. But when Marina’s new client puts River’s world in the crosshairs, they could lose everything, including each other.

A sapphic opposites-attract romance about ambition, community, and destiny. Perfect for fans of ice queens and slow-burns.

Take a ride on the wild side

Change is inevitable. We begin changing from the moment we plop out of the womb and it doesn’t stop until we give up the ghost. And who’s to say it even stops then? Maybe your ghostly self just keeps on changing in the realms beyond. Change is going to happen no matter what.

That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

It can be about as comfortable as a never-ending wedgie. (I’ve never understood people’s ability to wear thong underwear.) Change comes in a million forms and some days you’d be quite happy to freeze time so you can catch a breath. But life doesn’t work that way. The more you fight change, the angrier or more worried you are about it, the more it wears you down. I’ve found that stepping back, analyzing it, and figuring out how to adapt with the least amount of friction works for me.

We are in the midst of big changes over here at Global Wordsmiths. There was a time when our business model worked really well. One part of the writing playground fed into another, with writers able to loop between them. But AI is changing the world so fast, and that most certainly includes the publishing sector. When you can ask Gemini to plot out your book, read it over, and give you feedback, why do you need to pay an editor? When you can feed your manuscript to the beast and get it “edited”, why pay 1k for a person to do it for you?

These are rhetorical questions. There’s nothing better than the human touch and understanding of connection, and AI can throw some real googlies into your work. Plus, AI is trained on EVERYONE’S work, which means when people use it to craft, there’s a good chance all those books are going to sound very EVERYONE.

Change means we have to adapt. And the painful part of that means we need to start remodeling our world and potentially setting things aside. Not burning bridges or shutting down, but quietly placing them in a drawer until the world settles into change that’s a little more rhythmic than the earthquakes and tornados we’re surrounded by right now.

Focus is key to survival.

That means the pen names that aren’t bringing in enough income will have to be gently tucked away along with the clothes we’ll fit into one day. It means less time on anything that isn’t going to stabilize our day to day living expenses. I will admit that I cried when I understood the need for this particular change. Like I said, we don’t have to like it. But fighting it also means continuing to bang our heads against a wall of marshmallow. It’s rather pointless and messy.

So. What do you need to change? What are you fighting against when maybe you need to refocus?

I’m not sure where to start, really. I’m still processing and trying to think about all the things I learned and felt, and we’re considering a pretty serious fork in the road. Or maybe several pieces of cutlery.

On Tuesday we headed to London so I could attend the ALLI workshop day being held as part of the London Book Festival on Wednesday. We both enjoy our occasional trips to London, where there’s always a new area to explore. This time it was Kensington, which was pretty and clean and felt a little less like the usual chaos of a big city. We wandered, went to a couple book shops, and had some good Mexican food. (Although there shouldn’t be shredded beets in tacos…)

I’m an introvert. I’ve mentioned this in other posts. I’m awkward and can say dumb things, and I don’t always fit in. So going to something like this on my own, a day meant to be one about networking, not just learning, was pretty intimidating. But I was determined to be brave and to make the most of the day.

When I got there, people were gathered in little groups, already chatting away.

So I got a really bad cup of coffee and found a wall to stand next to.

But within seconds another person on her own came up and asked if she could stand with me. We started chatting and suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore. Throughout the day I talked to other writers, listened to panellists, and wrote in the workbook they’d provided in an effort to get people to do some digital detoxing for the day. There was a ton of information about how authors are making it work, how they’re adapting, how this isn’t a career for people who want to do something easy…

The first one was Joanna Penn. I’ve listened to her podcasts, read her books, and learned from her life as a working author. I’ve admired her for years and even brought my wife’s copy of Writing the Shadow for her to sign. She was as insightful, funny, and kind as I’d hoped she’d be, and I got to speak to her briefly after her session. I felt a bit silly getting her to sign the book, given that nobody else was doing it, but if I never meet her again, well, I have that signed book. Look at me, being brave.

The second person was Sacha Black. Again, I’ve read her guides on writing over the years, and her meteoric elevation into mega-money stratosphere over the last few years had me desperate to learn from her. Because that’s the way to do it: when you see someone killing it in your industry, you learn from them. So I pushed my way onto her table, even though there definitely wasn’t room for me and I was very nearly on her lap at one point. (Pretty sure the old guy with the very sour face and nothing to say the whole time could have shifted to a table he’d have been happier at, though.) She was open, friendly, and had plenty to say about her journey. After her panel session she even took the time to chat with me about my specific issues, which was really nice given how many people wanted her attention.

I wanted to talk to a couple more people at the pub networking after the conference day, but it was crowded when we got there, and I simply didn’t have the energy to keep being extroverted. I was out of spoons, hungry, and I’d missed spending the day with my wife. So we wandered off and had pub food near Kings Cross before heading to our two-hour train journey home.

The day out was solid. People were incredibly friendly and I was more comfortable than I’ve been at a conference in a long time. I want to go to more of them now, but I also don’t want to burn out. And as much as I want to learn, I also have to recognise that I’m still me…I’m not one to come out of my shell unless necessary. But I’m also aware that in order to grow, we’re going to need to make some more connections. As one panellist said: “Talking to other writers let me know about doors I didn’t even know were there.”

I’m going to do a couple more articles following this one about what I learned and what we’re thinking. About some choices we need to make and decisions we’re facing. I’m not one to make big leaps without a lot of thought, but we’re thinking it’s time to put a plan in place.

Did you attend the London Book Fair or a related event? How did it go?

In 2009, I was working for a NY publishing house from my home in the UK. They let me know an author was interested in doing a reading at the local bookstore near me, and asked if I’d help her plan it and maybe get other authors involved.

It was the first LGBTQ book festival I’d ever planned.

While it wasn’t hugely attended, it was fun and it set the stage for more of them to come. Year on year the festival grew, and soon it was three days long, from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. Authors came from all over the place to attend and we often filled the room with readers excited to be there. Our contact at the book store was incredible and nothing was too much trouble.

Then he left, and things…changed.

It got harder to have the festival there, and it was exhausting trying to make what was already a huge undertaking work. Meanwhile, things were also changing with the publishing house. My wife, keen to bring in authors from other houses, indie authors, and artists, wanted to expand. The publishing house didn’t. So she started a fringe event loosely connected to the one that had been running for years.

Jumping ahead, the old one ended and the new one took its place. Still an LGBTQ book festival, but more inclusive. And it shifted to the new Central Library, a gorgeous all glass building with another fabulous person who wants to see every event do well. Tickets sell out months in advance, and this year, we’ve been contacted by two of the Big 5 publishing houses who have asked if their authors can be involved.

17 years. We’ve now had an LGBTQ book festival in Nottingham for seventeen years. And you know what? That feels fucking amazing.

Many, many organizations have helped us get the word out over the years. The Queer Bulletin and Rainbow Heritage have been fundamental in that. Nottingham Writers’ Studio, Left Lion…it’s community, but you know what? It’s more than that, too. It’s supporting writers whether or not your organization is part of that particular group. It’s queer people getting together in a safe space to celebrate stories that make them feel seen, that show them their lives matter too. It’s relaxed, supportive, fun…

And we’re incredibly proud of it. If you want tickets, you can get them via eventbrite. If you want a place to talk about LGBTQ books and stories and authors and reviews and culture, you should come hang out with us.

Queer the Shelves Tickets

What a year. A kind of non-year, in some ways. But in others, full of stuff. How’s that for a vague start? The kind we’d warn against as editors, really. Ah, well.

We spent time at the seaside at the beginning and end of the year, which is always a good way to bookend the arbitrary 12 month cycle. We ran two UK writing retreats where we got to hang out with other writers and friends, and that was cool. We always love doing those, even though they can be a lot of work. We decided that since we can’t move to the seaside for the foreseeable future, we’d buy a caravan. Have you ever been on UK B-roads? They aren’t for the faint of heart if you’re in a Mini, let alone when you’re 25 feet long and rather broad in the hips.

We went to America and saw a smidgeon of what was about to hit, and it left us nervous and sad for a country built by the immigrants it was targeting with terrifying brutality. It was beautiful in NY and hot in Chicago. We saw fireflies for the first time. We spent a lot of time with good friends, and that was very cool indeed.

And then the volcano of mental health issues exploded on our return, spewing uncertainty, despair, and ashy fortitude all over the damn place.

We spent five weeks on suicide watch, sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a house not our own. We had our own health scares to deal with in the midst of all that. We had a fiftieth birthday celebration that included a swift trip to Amsterdam with the constant worry that we were far away should we be needed.

Ship of Dreams (sapphic steampunk), The Heart Remembers (sapphic romance), The Sister Act (sapphic romance), and a re-release of the Extractor Trilogy all somehow came out this year. Plus the annual SapphFic Eclectic anthology. All of that happened before July. Since then, words have fallen out like molasses in the Canadian winter. But at least they’re still slowly dripping out. That’s something.

There has been a lot of good stuff. Writing it down helps us remember that.

The publishing landscape is shifting like it’s sitting on a shelf over a 7.5 earthquake, precariously balanced on the edge of an AI chasm. We’re seeing the effects as a writing consultancy, believe me. But you know what? It means real voices become even more important, even more searched for. And that’s a good thing. We’ll focus on that part.

Anyway. Happy Holidays, whatever it is you celebrate. We hope you create some great stories over the winter season. Remember to write them down. You never know when that stuff Old Uncle Charlie shouts might come in handy in a book.

Blood, sweat, tears, full swear jars…being a writer means working your bum off. And then you scream into the void, pleading with the goddess of words that someone, somewhere, will give your book a chance. You price it not according to the amount of hours you’ve put into it (because no one is going to pay two grand for a two hundred page paperback) but according to market standard.

And then you wait. And you start writing the next one.

But there are moments when you take a leap and you join in the big sale days. Tomorrow, Black Friday, is one of those huge sale days, and over at Butterworth Books we’re jumping into the pool.

We’ve put almost our entire catalogue of indie author books on sale for .99 (pence, cents, pesos, etc) for the entire day. In fact, because you’re subscribing to this substack, you can even get over there today.

So, if you like LGBTQ books, if you’d like to check out some new to you authors, if you want to build up your tbr pile… come on over. We’d love to meet you.

Shop the LGBTQ Book Sale

The library smelled of unread words and hesitant excitement. The stage held people I’d never heard of; my partner at the time knew who they were, thanks to the reading she’d been doing while I worked on my MA. As always, I took the time to look around and note the other readers there interested in lgbtq fiction.

You know how you can swear you know someone you’ve never met? She smiled, I smiled. Throughout the readings and questions, I kept wondering where I knew her from. We spoke quickly on a surface level that night; she seemed to think she knew me too. We saw each other again at another conference several thousand miles away a few months later.

Then I moved to the UK. Several years later, so did she. We’ve talked throughout the years, and nearly two decades later she sent me an email in response to my post about frustration with my doctor. She said she’d assumed, thanks to how things seemed when she saw photos on social media or when we chatted in passing at events, that I was fine. Our business seemed to be going well, I was writing…

She was taken aback when she realized things weren’t as they seemed, and what she said has made me pause. “Productivity doesn’t always equal wellbeing.”

We’re doing it, true. We’re keeping the business going (well, one of us is, while the other sleeps a lot), we’re writing (one of us is, while the other bemoans the futility of it) and we’re smiling for the camera.

But the truth is, that’s taking a hell of an emotional and physical toll. It’s working through headaches, it’s working random, long hours to fit everything in. It’s going out for date night even when we’re exhausted because life could so easily narrow to just existing. We work hard to support each other, to be there for tears and frustration and the feeling that we’re stuck in a kind of limbo.

The email was a good reminder that we should check in with our friends. Social media makes it easy to assume, to smile and flick past, to figure you know what’s going on with others. But we have to remember that social media is a curated experience. We share what we’re comfortable with, and that’s often not the truth of our everyday being. So take a minute to send a real email to folks you may not have talked to on a deeper level.

That’s how we’ll stay truly connected, and those connections are what we’ll lean on when things get hard and darkness closes in.