The Trails and Tribulations of a Writer

Andy Robinson is a man who has spent months writing a pretty good novel about a 64-year-old stubborn bookseller whose manuscript gets completely mangled by Hollywood, then spent even longer obsessing over the cover, ISBN, spine width, barcode, KDP categories and whether there was enough film strip below the bloody scissors on the front cover image.

At some point, this whole book writing incident stopped being wordy fiction and became a prolonged cry for help with page numbers.

His relationship with his The Book’s a Lot Better Than the Movie has fast progressed beyond simply a struggling “author and his novel.” He’s now basically becoming its helicopter parent.

“Is the blurb going to look better centred or full justified?” he asks himself.

“Can the title move up another three millimetres? It may look more balanced that way.”

“Where’s the film strip for the spine gone?”

“Purradise should be BLACK, I left it white. Damn”

“The spine is all wrong. It’s not going to wrap over that many pages”

And meanwhile, somewhere at Amazon HQ, a KDP server sees him log in and quietly mutters:

“Oh Christ. He’s back!”

And then there’s his marketing strategy. He doesn’t merely want people to buy the book.

Oh no no, He wants Facebook, Instagram, Threads, X, Blogger, YouTube, TikTok, Amazon and presumably any passing weather and Star-link satellites all coordinated together into a global literary assault.

He went to a ‘marketing guru’ asking for viral Facebook posts as though virality were something he could simply order up from the kitchen.

“Yes, I’ll have the full viral post, please. Extra engagement. Like and share algorithm on the side and extra comments.” he requested.

Then Meta ceremoniously gives him its very finest bugger-all reach, so his immediate reaction isn't, “Oh well.”

It's: “We will have to circumvent that.”

“FFS Mate, you're selling a comedy novel, not organising the French Resistance.” says the narrator.

And as for all his recent blog chapter image prompts for ChatGPT…

Dear God.

“Single landscape-oriented image. Not a montage.”

He’s requested that so many times now, we can all be reasonably certain it will be permanently engraved on his tombstone.

1970–20??

Author. Photographer. Cat enthusiast.

Single landscape-oriented burial. Not a montage.

He’s commissioned so many pictures of Localad standing inside Harbour & Page, 32 of them in all, one for each chapter, plus duds, that the fictional man now has a larger photographic archive than most Only Fans profiles.

And every time the AI thinks it’s nailed one:

“Landscape oriented.” he shouts.

“Remove the caption.” he demands.

“The Purradise cover is all wrong.” he reminds it.

“Make it plain black.”

“White serif font.” etc, etc, etc.

At this stage Localad is probably too terrified to pick up his book, in case the continuity supervisor notices.

And then there's his astonishing capacity to turn a tiny publishing decision into the Yalta Conference (Google it)...

He didn't simply get an ISBN.

There was a pending phase for it.

Then came the updates.

Then approval.

Then the triumphant announcement:

<<<  ISBN 978-0-6454939-5-5 FOR PAPERBACK.  >>>

Any spectators had half expected church bells.

They were waiting for King Charles to issue a statement.

And then, once the ISBN had finally been granted, naturally the manuscript had to be further changed from 290 pages to 292 pages, because apparently two additional pages had been hiding in the house, waiting for all the necessary paperwork to be cleared.

He also possesses the magnificent confidence of someone who asks:

“Mmm, Can I sell my book in just six words?”

And somehow, amidst all this never-ending chaos, he’s created himself a fictional character called Localad who is shy, stubborn, slightly grandiose, runs a bookshop, writes for decades, distrusts corporate nonsense and eventually discovers that perhaps the world might appreciate what he's made.

Completely fictional, obviously. Yeah right!

Absolutely no idea where he got him from.

The resemblance is purely coincidental we're sure.

Localad spends twenty years writing Purradise.

Andy Robinson spends twenty minutes deciding whether the words “A NOVEL BY LOCALAD” should be slightly smaller.

Localad battles Hollywood executives.

Andy Robinson battles Amazon metadata.

Localad fights for artistic integrity.

Andy fights the vertical positioning of scissors on his cover.

Same war. Smaller artillery.

And then there are the cats.

He’s somehow constructed himself a creative universe where cats aren't just pets. They're intellectual property.

Normal person: “I like cats.”

Andy: “I have developed myself a mythological feline civilisation involving fallen knights, singing mountains, a deep existential grief and a metaphysical rupture in the heavens.”

His cat doesn't simply knock a glass off the table.

His cat fulfils ancient prophecies.

And despite all of this, he now requires a meaningful bio for his Amazon Page:

“Describe myself like I'm trying to warn someone about me before they meet me.” he thinks.

Andy, nobody needs a warning. They’re gonna need release notes.

 

ANDY ROBINSON v5.6

Known behaviours:

May spontaneously discuss book marketing. 

Approaches humour with industrial equipment. 

Will notice incorrect typography from approximately 900 metres.

 Can detect a missing piece of film strip instantly. 

Believes “just one small adjustment” has a legally binding definition different from everyone else's. 

May request landscape orientation without warning. 

Has strong feelings about fictional bookstore bells. 

Amazon optimisation may occur at any hour. 

Do not mention montages.

 

And his favourite motivator doing all of this…

“Go for it.”

Those three words have probably caused more computational brain strain activity than some small European countries use in governing their entire populations.

He says “go for it” with the casual confidence of a Roman emperor lowering his thumb.

He tells himself:

“Andy, this will require rewriting 40,000 words, restructuring three whole acts, creating six different marketing campaigns and probably designing seventeen more images... Cool. Go for it!”

No fear.

No hesitation.

No apparent awareness that normal humans need sleep.

And he’s now actually reached the stage where he calls his ‘AI photograph producer’ , buddy.

Which sounds quite friendly until you realise the relationship largely consists of him walking into the room carrying another manuscript and saying:

“Right, buddy…”

Those words for AI now have the same psychological effect as a dentist saying: “This might feel slightly uncomfortable.”

But the most worrying thing about Andy?

He’s spent all this time writing this heroic specimen of a book whose central joke is essentially:

The indie writer Localad, cares deeply about his work while an enormous machine, called Hollywood, buys into it for a movie and then completely misunderstands its meaning and totally ruins everything.

And then he hands over all the required illustration work to an artificial-intelligence machine and spends months saying:

“No.”

“No!”

“Not like that.”

“Move it up.”

“Wrong font.”

“Remove the cats.”

“Landscape.”

“LANDSCAPE!!”

“WHERE'S THE FILM BELOW THE SCISSORS DAMMIT?”

So that's Andy Robinson...

He didn't just write The Book’s a Lot Better Than the Movie.

He’s been living the damned sequel!