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The Big Blue Jobbie

I haven’t blogged from the website since March. Why?! Well, partly because I’m a lazy cow and partly because it was lockdown, the world piled onto Facebook and my social media blog had a lot more reach. However, I took all my lockdown posts and combined them into a book, The Big Blue Jobbie, which is now available on Amazon. I didn’t just throw together the lockdown posts, though. I’m not quite that lazy. I added loads of new words and exciting stuff.

The process of writing a book was interesting. I knew roughly what format the book would take but not what I would write. I set myself a goal of 70,000 words by 1st August and I achieved it, which was a brilliant feeling. But then the proof reading and formatting started. Oh lordy, my poor brain was battered. This level of attention to detail is not in my nature. I’m a broad strokes and victoria sponge sort of person! The proof reading actually started well before I finished writing, so by the time we pressed the publish button, I had a swear jar for the next person who said ‘comma’. I downloaded the book to my Kindle and read a bit last night. I had to stop – all I could see were the places where, despite the obsessive proof reading, I’d missed an effing comma. And if I keep saying ‘comma’, I’m going to make more off my own swear jar than the book!

Mr V was technical genius and cover designer. He did all the research on how to upload a book to Amazon and was incredibly tolerant of my insistence on perfection (I made him do the cover twice). He was a bit sh*t at proof reading but a whizz on formatting. By the time we got to the publishing stage, he had every page break and wonky title sorted. Then we did the uploading to Amazon, who seemed to have a different idea of formatting; one which involved surprise blank pages, photos covering page numbers and lists starting at number 13, all of which were only visible after we’d uploaded and may or may not go away when we made corrections, depending on whether gods of Amazon had had their morning coffee. When it takes half an hour for each upload, by the time you get to your fifth attempt you are just a ground down drone, a slave to the will of Amazon. If they’d asked me to sign a contract saying I’d only ever wear blue knickers, I’d have thrown away my knicker rights for a quiet life.

By this stage, the book was known as ‘The Effing Book.’ We pressed the publish button for the final time and agreed that, although we should celebrate with a glass of the fizzy stuff, we were so knackered that a cup of tea and bed were in order.

Of course, when the book cleared Amazon’s review process and went live, it once more became my baby. My creation. My amazing, wonderful masterpiece. Now, I just have to figure out how to get people to read it. I don’t know any fancy, famous people who can tweet fabulous things and get their squillions of followers to buy a copy. I’m Mrs V, ordinary person, who somehow has to become Mrs V, marketing genius. I was feeling very daunted by this and confessed to Mr V that I really wished someone else could take over this bit. Mr V knows me too well. He said, ‘Maybe what we need is a strategy meeting. Over a posh coffee. With a spot of lunch. And cake. Definitely cake.’ So, here I am world! Mrs V, proper author what wrote a book and marketing genius!

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