Kirkcudbright Book Week, Selkirk Arms
9th March 2025
Is it truly impossible for aspiring writers to break into the publishing industry? At this, the penultimate event in Kirkcudbright Book Week 2025, the panel of experts seemed to think so.
The programme information referred to the “rapid change” which the world of publishing is undergoing, “providing authors, readers, publishers and bookshops with unprecedented opportunities and challenges.” I looked forward to a wide ranging conversation. Yet though I enjoyed the discussion, from the point of view of aspirant writers, what I heard was mostly a counsel of despair. It is nearly impossible to get a publisher, we were told. Fiction does not sell, said Ian Spring of Rymour Books, though non-fiction can sell, for example books about the Scottish mountains. This was stark realism in spades.
There was very little analysis of the sub genres of non-fiction – biography, memoir, travel, history philosophy and so on. According to Gerry Hassan, writing on popular music is enjoying something of a golden age and may be treated as an exception. To self publish, on the other hand, is to accept that you will only ever be read by friends and family. One member of the audience did claim to have sold four hundred copies of a self published book. There was general assent from the panel that that was a pretty impressive outcome. Nevertheless, said panel member, Anstey Spraggan, you can tell, often by just reading the first line of a book, whether it is a work of self publication or has gone through the rigours of editing on which a proper publisher will insist.
The comment of the panel on the difficulties of finding a publisher is something on which I have a personal story to tell. Indeed, having attempted unsuccessfully to get a publisher for my memoir, Remembered Fragments, I have some sense of just how competitive the world of publishing is.
My book was written during the pandemic when, we can be sure, many similar projects were being worked out. The central narrative was my coming of age in Newry, Northern Ireland, with my earliest memories from the late 1950s through the 1960s when the Troubles were just beginning to kick off.
For whatever reason I had settled on the idea that Belfast’s Blackstaff Press would love what I had to say. On consulting their website it became clear that they were not taking any further submissions for that year, as they were already overloaded. When I checked up in January of the following year, the message had been updated to say that Blackstaff would only be accepting submissions in April and May, and that a maximum of 30,000 words should be submitted. I waited patiently and submitted my 30,000 words and in due course was turned down. I received no comment on the quality of the work.
The panel at the Selkirk Arms in Kirkcudbright was clearly representative of a fairly traditional model of publishing for fiction and non-fiction books. There was a general assumption that, unlike myself, would-be writers are intent on a career as an author. If you are in that category, then get yourself an agent who will act as an intermediary between you and potential publishers. So far as I can tell this system of agents as intermediaries continues to work well for many established writers. The main challenge for new writers is the increasing number of people out there who believe, rightly or wrongly, that they have a book in them, perhaps even a future as a writer. This inevitably makes the problem of getting the attention of a publisher more difficult.
Publishers in general take the view that they are already skimming the cream and that great writing will inevitably find its way to the top. There is of course a market for celebrity biographies, cookbooks, and the like. For the rest, there is self publishing in its various forms. The possible merits of this option were not really explored other than as a refuge for the desperate. The panel warned us in particular against the blandishments of those who will take money in exchange for proofreading and typographical services. I’d say that was sound advice.
But even if we restrict our idea of publishing to the written word, the age of change has had impacts well beyond the bastion of mainstream traditional publishing. For those with an impulse to blog on whatever subject takes their fancy, a world of opportunity has opened up with the internet. My own efforts as a blogger have had limited reach, but I follow a couple of local blogs which I think are well written and of significant interest and which clearly have a substantial audience. Increasingly even professional writers are using Substack and similar platforms to cut out the middlemen and get paid directly by their readers.
Panelist Ian Spring, made it clear that poetry can sell, though this is usually reliant on energetic promotion by the poet. In Dumfries and Galloway, and I am sure elsewhere, the writing of poetry is supported by workshops which offer an apprenticeship of sorts and undoubtedly a first level of quality control. Southlight Magazine is a secondary filter on the local literary scene offering a forum to new writers of poetry and indeed of short stories. Southlight provides opportunities to read at the Magazine’s launch events. Small publishers such as Drunk Muse Press deserve honourable mention having brought some of the fine poetry which is being written in obscure corners to a wider audience.
While small specialist publishers have long existed, they have been made more viable by the computing technology used to prepare work for publication which, combined with modern methods of printing, would appear to make short print runs an affordable proposition. Since poets never expect to become best sellers, this model of publishing works well for them.
When question time came I was keen to ask the panel how they thought Artificial Intelligence might affect the publishing industry. The question was understood more as being concerned with the threat posed by AI rather than the opportunities which it might offer. I was advised that asking Chat GPT or Deep Seek for comment on drafts for my blog, as I do, was “feeding the beast” … well the word “beast” wasn’t used, but that was the implication.
It does seem possible that Artificial Intelligence may begin to replace writers in a range of circumstances and that is indeed an alarming thought. Yet at the current stage of its development, AI has the capability to assist writers in shaping their work, just as a friend or editor will assist us by making corrections and suggestions – for example that chapter 3 is a pointless and self indulgent digression which should be cut out entirely; and so on. Used in this way, we control the AI and get it to do what we want. If you don’t like what it says, by all means, plough your own furrow.
Ian Spring pointed out that the publishing industry is already shaping the work of writers, moving it towards what will be more digestible, more saleable. At the more extreme end of this “management,” publishing may already be doing the very thing that we fear most from AI, crushing creativity and promoting a product which is shaped entirely by the demands of the market.
Where creative writing is concerned, the end point impact of Artificial Intelligence is indeed hard to predict. AI can, in its current incarnation, rattle off poems to order, no doubt, making some attempt at the style of T.S.Elliot, or W.B.Yeats, if required. Yet I don’t see a serious threat to the writing of poetry from this quarter. Perhaps AI will independently produce work to feed a public appetite for crime, romantic or science fiction. Much of the publication in these genres already betrays a strong element of formula in its construction. That, possibly dark day, of ubiquitous AI created content has not yet arrived. In the meantime we will probably do better if we take control of AI and exploit its obvious potential as a researcher, an editor and a critic of our work.
Many of the audience for this event, I suspect, had attended with some hope of gaining advice on how to gain a foothold for their own work in the world of publishing. Well not James Robertson, who was present mostly because he was the main attraction in the following event, though his contribution to the discussion was welcome, so far as I was concerned.
I felt particularly for the lady who had turned up with a complete manuscript in her bag. It was, she declared, the work of a deceased aunt. She had discovered it gathering dust in an attic and, having read it, was sufficiently impressed to believe it was deserving of a wider audience. The panel listened to her story politely, and made some encouraging noises. The phrase “friends and family” may have figured yet again, but no one rushed forward to claim the document for their own press.
I imagine this was a handwritten manuscript. My advice to that lady would be, type it up, or pay to have it typed up if you can afford to do so. Feed the manuscript into ChatGPT or Deep Seek asking for advice on spelling, grammar, readability and structure. Work through the advice and make whatever corrections and changes you yourself feel are appropriate.
This will be quite a job of work, which would usually be undertaken by the author. Indeed the process brings to mind a recent cartoon in the Guardian by Tom Gault on Finishing a Book. This makes it clear how an author is obliged to revise and rework at every stage of their engagement with an agent and a publisher.
If, as I eventually did, you use Amazon Print on Demand for publication of your book, Amazon will assist you with cover and book design. However, don’t expect this necessarily to do justice to your aunt’s work. If you are prepared to pay money, employ someone to assist you with the design and typography. I might approach a local artist, even for advice on this subject. In my own case, I paid my nephew Joe, who works in graphic design in London. That was the most expensive part of my own project, but I think well worth it.
Once you’ve got a copy of the book in your hands, think about a launch event. Invite all your friends, acquaintances, family, members of the local book club, indeed anyone who seems remotely interested. Print enough copies to sell to the number you believe will be likely to attend. Better too few than too many. You can always take orders. You definitely don’t want to be tripping over boxes of unsold books for years to come. At the event you should tell the story of how you found the book, came to believe in its worth, and explain the process by which you published it. Offer a short reading.
This done, write a press release summarising the story of the book’s publication as you have told it at the launch event. Send the press release to local and national newspapers and television. They’ll love your story and the book will maybe even sell a few copies on Amazon. Don’t expect the book to be reviewed but, just possibly, word of mouth will spread and you will have an extraordinary success on your hands.
But that’s not likely. In a previous post on the subject of blogging I quoted writer Hamilton Nolan who said: “most books sell shockingly few copies…You should not write a book to get rich or famous. That won’t happen.” He then goes on very powerfully to explain why this should not put a writer off. I think what he has to say might equally be applied to the project of publishing your aunt’s legacy.
I wish you luck and am confident that your finished book will for you be an important achievement whether it sells or not.
Endnotes
Chair: Rosie Ilett, writer, editor and co-director of the Kirkcudbright Fringe Festival.
Panel: Publisher Ian Spring, the founder of Rymour Books, Elizabeth Parsons, of Kirkcudbright Book Shop Gallovidian, and authors Anstey Spraggan and Gerry Hassan.
A New Year’s Wish for the Blogisphere in which the quote from Hamilton Nolan appears in full.
Blogs I read and would recommend!
Remembered Fragments Available on Amazon as a paperback or ebook.
Note – text edited in response to comment on the use of the word “cherry picking,” now removed.






The Reporter
A lament for a small town newspaper
Not long after publishing my memoir, Remembered Fragments, I thought it might be an idea to contact the Newry Reporter in order to draw this momentous event to their attention. After all, at various points, the Newry Reporter made an appearance in episodes I recalled in the book. The slightly portentous style of its journalism in the late 1960s, particularly where sport was concerned, had made something of an impression on my young mind. I found a telephone number for the paper and rang up. I was answered by someone who described himself as the editor.
I formed the impression of a young man, possibly in his early 30s, sitting back in one of those wheeled chairs that tip satisfyingly with the occupant when they lean back. That’s what I imagined this young man was doing when he received my call; leaning back, enjoying a break from his computer screen, perhaps even with his feet up on the desk, ankles crossed.
“How can I help you?” he enquired.
I summarised the nature of the book and told him that I’d sent a copy to Colum Sands. He had emailed me to say he was enjoying it. The young man seemed to have heard of Colum Sands, and did not disagree with my assertion that Colum was a local person of some cultural significance. However, my offer of a free copy of Remembered Fragments for review purposes met with obvious disdain.
On reflection, my approach was naive. I had imagined myself phoning into a busy office. Perhaps that was the case, but having examined the current business model of the Reporter I have some doubts about this image and imagine the editor was, as likely as not, all on his lonesome.
The Reporter is no longer published in a print edition, but continues to exist as part of a consortium of local papers each with their content entirely online. Many column inches are filled with shared stories of national or even international significance.
In the case of the Newry Reporter, the banner title so familiar to me still exists with its gothic lettering framing the little motif of St. Patrick sitting between the two yew trees on the strand, which were to give Newry its name. Apart from this handsome banner, there is no similarity between the online paper as it is today and the paper I remember. The new business model relies heavily, it would seem, on copy submitted by members of the public. I daresay the editor himself engages with the larger local stories when they emerge.
When he had finished my book Colum Sands was good enough to send me a review. I submitted this to the Reporter. They published it. I’m very grateful for that, despite the fact that the presentation of the review is, for me, somewhat marred by the presence of multiple advertisements and a standard layout which hints that I might myself have written this favourable review.
But in other respects, what could be wrong with a local news platform filled with just such unpaid contributions. Indeed, that may be the only way in which “the local” in local papers can continue to exist.
Perhaps the Newry Reporter always relied on some element of voluntary journalism. Were the reports on the Carnbane League and multiple other sporting events which were documented in the paper, really the work of professional journalists? It is hard to imagine a payroll that extensive. Nevertheless, the Reporter, as I remember it, was an institution deeply embedded in the lives of Newry people. It united all the disparate elements of local life: sport, music, drama, education, the visual arts, commerce, criminal behaviour, marriages, births, deaths. The paper, so far as I could see, navigated matters of religion and politics without becoming entangled in any of the divisions which marred the world in which I grew up.
The Newry Reporter had been founded in 1867 by James Burn. However in 1915 it was acquired by Edward Hodgett, and the Hodgett family were to be the proprietors until January 11th 2023 when its locally based production became unviable and it was sold to National World, a company with its head office in Leeds.
As a boy scout in Newry, I had some knowledge of the Hodgett family. Noel Hodgett, or “Frosty”, the name by which everyone in the scouts knew him, had an enduring connection with the First Newry troop. Frosty, along with his brothers Max and Richard, was a director of Edward Hodgett Ltd, the company, founded by their father, that owned the Newry Reporter
I always understood that Frosty had a connection with the paper though was never clear what precisely his role was in the weekly appearance of the Newry Reporter in our household. He did not strike me as a journalist, a purveyor of the written word, but nor for that matter did he seem in the least like a small town Rupert Murdoch.
At the time I became a scout, Frosty had withdrawn from weekly attendance at meetings, but nevertheless I remember him coming on annual camps. We delighted in his reputation, a jovial figure, his good humour beaming from many of the photographs recording those great adventures.
From stories I heard about Frosty I came to believe that he was more than just good humour. There was evidence that he had a benign understanding of the many concerning stages through which adolescent boys develop on their way to a state which might pass as maturity. He was as interested in the miscreants as much as those destined to become Queen’s Scouts.
To what extent these rich human qualities were shared by the other directors of Edward Hodgett Ltd, or influenced production of the Reporter, would be hard for me to say, but what is clear is that Frosty was a newspaper proprietor with much more than just a commercial interest in the community which he served.
Can National World match this level of commitment to the many small communities to which it now provides an online news service? The Newry Reporter’s shift from print to a shared online platform reflects a wider trend. Studies show that as local papers are absorbed by conglomerates, their original character often fades, replaced by homogenized content and community-submitted copy—a far cry from the deeply rooted journalism of Frosty Hodgett’s era.
It is, however, too early to judge the matter. We are on a journey where the provision of news is concerned and it could be that the esteem in which local print media were once held in so many communities may in time be matched by the online output of National World and their like. In 2022, the Hussman School of Journalism and Media compiled a report which includes the following call to action.
Making certain that no community is disenfranchised because its residents lack access to critical information is the journalistic challenge of the 21st century. The burden for accomplishing this mission is not only on journalists, but also on community activists, philanthropists, owners of news organizations and government officials to make sure newsrooms have the resources they need to enfranchise everyone.
Endnotes
Home Page – The Newry Reporter
Review of Remembered Fragments in the Newry Reporter
Review on YourWorld.Net This is the same review by Colum Sands minus advertisements but also without the historic Newry Reporter Banner.
News Deserts and Ghost Newspapers: Will Local News Survive? A paper which documents the decline in local media in the US, argues the importance of local media for a vibrant local democracy, and suggests possible ways of reinventing local news.
Website – Colum Sands