Oooooh! Guess what space cadets?

Ugh. Okay, that made me a little bit sick in my mouth. Note to self: don’t use chipper wankerisms like ‘space cadets’ ever, ever again.

So, in any case, hello undifferentiated morass. With just over a month to go, there’s a short sneak preview from We Can’t All Be Astronauts up online, using Ebury’s pretty funky Flash reader gizmo. Have a peep here. You could even go ahead and preorder here.

It’s up there to help promote a contest we’re running in conjunction with the Bookseller. It’s a writing competition with a twist – we’re looking for entries from people who work in bookstores. I reckon there must be a whole host of diligent, well-read bookshop staff who are also keen writers in their spare time, and this is a great chance to recognise their talent. It’s also a great chance for me to feel like some smug, philanthropic industrialist ‘giving back to the community’, even though my book’s not even out yet. So seriously, if you work in a bookshop or you know a writer who does, get them to go here. You’ll be flattering my fragile – but very real – ego, and putting them on to a nice opportunity to get some well-deserved recognition.

3 thoughts on “We Can’t All Be Astronauts – Extract and Competition”

  1. Well, I enjoyed that (the excerpt). Although ‘enjoyed’ makes me sound sadistically cruel.

    Which I am.

    Naturally the whole thing would work far better if it wasn’t, itself, published. So these are your choices, I guess:

    You can maintain tension, suspense and creative integrity by withdrawing the manuscript from your publishers, and allowing it to exist only amidst the lost hopes and wank-tissues strewn across your childhood bedroom floor as a piece of ‘art’. Or you can go ahead with the whole getting published thing (which, by your own admission is somewhat passé amongst your peer group) and totally sell out.

    Tuffy, eh?

    Brilliant, Tim. I can’t wait to read it! :

  2. The idea that I could ‘sell out’ implies a handy cache of morals and a willing buyer. My integrity’s a hen’s egg full of fog, Nathan – try taking that to the bank. They’ll drive you out in a niagra of invective, slamming a broom handle against your rump.

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