It lives! (on publishing The Dust on the Moth, plus launch party news)

Me oh my, what’s this?

Unpacking 4

Okay, so I look like an overenthusiastic, spinsterish librarian, but never mind that. Look at what I’m clutching in my scrawny claw! Yep, it’s The Dust on the Moth. In the flesh! Isn’t she pretty?

To recap, The Dust on the Moth was a manuscript of mine that got picked up by Bees Make Honey, pimped up with photography and illustrations and then crowdfunded through an intense but successful Kickstarter campaign. And now, after months of editing, proofreading, laying out and polishing, the book has been printed and is real. As exhibited below.

Unpacking 8

One of the fundraising campaign’s main angles was our commitment – in an age when almost everything is digitalised – to producing something lavishly tangible that could be held in the hands, probed by the fingers and treasured on shelves and coffee tables. At the time the statement felt partially like something said out of principle. But now, with the result of our efforts actually existing as a physical part of the world, I’m reminded of the joys of something as (deceptively) simple as a lovingly designed hardback.

I feel proud to have been a part of this, and am genuinely humbled by the superhuman effort Bees Make Honey put into making the book so special, and by the generosity of the backers who funded its production. Putting the book together involved an unbelievable amount of work (just ask Dan, the book’s designer and a faded husk of the man he once was), and there were giddy highs and queasy lows and late nights spent editing, bubble-wrapping and gnawing at fingernails. But it was a sweaty labour of love and gratitude, and I hope our backers are happy with the result. I know we are.

Many years ago, some unsung boffin calculated that a picture paints a thousand words. So, to save me from more writing and you from more reading, here are 6000 words’ worth of images from The Dust on the Moth.

More information on the book and on how to get hold of a copy is available here.

One last thing. We’re having a launch party for The Dust on the Moth at Nottingham’s Creative Occupations Bureau on the evening of 5 March. If you’re in the area, pop in and join us for booze and cake. Hope to see you there!

On editing a novel (plus some guff about Art Attack)

Posted by Darren Simpson

Do you remember Art Attack? If you do, you might recall that there was a segment in each episode where Scouse da Vinci Neil Buchanan created a giant picture out of some random material – a unicorn out of paperclips, for example, or a robot out of lentils.

Imagine him getting to work on a giant school bus made of school uniforms. He scatters some trousers around to make the wheels, nods to himself and starts on the bus’s door. He prances around, tossing school ties here and red sweaters there, occasionally grinning at the camera while the bus in his mind takes shape at his feet. Then he steps back and opens his arms, and the camera pans out from above to reveal not a bus, but a hideous leering clown face that causes the kids at home to pee their pants and run to their mums.

How did this happen? I’ll tell you how. Neil forgot to get into his cherry picker crane every now and then. He just kept at it on the ground, lost in an enthusiastic flurry of school clothes, and neglected to take an occasional look from above to make sure his bus looked like a bus.

When writing a book, the equivalent of getting into this cherry picker is editing. It’s wise to look at your work from a distance to make sure not only that it works, but that it works as well as it can. And it’s even wiser to have someone else in the cherry picker with you – someone more detached to look at the woods while you’re hopelessly lost in the trees. That’s what Kirsty Fox (Big Cheese at Bees Make Honey) and I are doing now for The Dust on the Moth (which, in case you missed it, recently got funded through a Kickstarter campaign). At this very moment, Kirsty is reading the manuscript for the umpteenth time to check that its bizarre little story holds together and gives the reader the ultimate Dust on the Moth experience.

That’s right. While you lounge comfortably on your sofa and read this, Kirsty’s hunched over a tattered manuscript and scouring it with her tired, beady eye. She hasn’t slept in days. She consumes nothing but bread and water; preparing anything else would cost precious editing time. She’s stranded high up on the cherry picker, checking the novel’s themes, its story arc, its character development, its internal logic and its self-contained worlds. Once satisfied she’ll lower the cherry picker to get a little closer. Would Mr Malarkey really say this to Anna? That gibbon wasn’t in the grotto before, was it? Did Cardinal Bilibin always have those long pink fingernails? Shouldn’t the pace be picked up for this chase scene in the desert?

Once Kirsty’s done, she’ll be sending me another pile of grumbles to be addressed, and I’ll get to work once again, chipping away here and there at near-imperceptible imperfections. This pile of grumbles gets smaller each time, so we’re getting there.

Editing The Dust on the Moth has been interesting. It’s the first time I’ve been edited by someone else. There was a time when I naively didn’t see the point in having an editor. Why let someone dilute your work? Why not keep your vision pure? What I forgot to consider back then is that writers – well, most writers – write not for themselves, but for others. And that’s why you need a savvy set of eyes to give you an outsider’s perspective and ensure your school bus isn’t in fact a scary clown.

Your editor doesn’t just need to be savvy, of course. If a book is to remain true to itself, the relationship between writer and editor needs to be an enthusiastic and sympathetic one. Fortunately for all of us, Kirsty is very passionate about The Dust on the Moth – she’s publishing the damn thing – and it’s been clear since we first discussed the novel that she “gets” it. It also helps that she’s a very talented writer herself. Which all means that I trust her and value her editing suggestions. Sometimes there’s a little negotiation, but 95% of the time we see eye to eye.

Editing the novel has been good for me as a writer too. I’ve learned a lot and have become more audience-aware and critical of my writing. I now know about the pitfalls of “info dumps”, dialogue tags and a plethora of other no-nos. There are “rules” for how a novel should best be presented to the reader, most of which make sense to me (every bit of the novel must serve a purpose, for example), but some which I take with a pinch of salt. If every writer followed every rule, books would start to get a bit samey. In fact, since learning about editing, I’ve already started to spot certain patterns in contemporary novels. At times there’s almost a sense of going through the motions.

This won’t be happening to The Dust on the Moth. We’re going to be careful and sensitive. We’re going to make it as polished as we can, without compromising any of its uniqueness or spirit. And when we’re done we’ll be another step closer to making The Dust on the Moth a beautiful reality.

It’s going to be sweeeeet. Look out for it from November 2015.

The results are in: The Dust on the Moth has been funded!

Posted by Darren Simpson

Well who’d have thunk it… We actually did it! Bees Make Honey‘s Kickstarter campaign met its target! It even became a Kickstarter Staff Pick and Featured Publishing Project on the way. And now we have the funding to make this preposterous a dream a preposterous reality. Power to the people.

Not that I’m going to pretend it was a walk in the park. A whole month of boring your friends and begging for money wasn’t exactly a bag of fun. And then there was the nail-devouring finale! Crikey. Being involved in a Kickstarter campaign is one of the most harrowing, agonising and exciting things I’ve ever done. I nearly threw up on several occasions towards the end, I swear.

But it paid off, and now – thanks to the support of our wonderful pledgers – we have the funding to produce The Dust on the Moth and its accompanying soundtrack. Over the next few months we’ll be putting the story through two more rounds of editing, preparing more photos and illustrations, and then squeezing the lot into an exquisite hardback cover. On top of that we’ll be finishing the soundtrack, printing posters and further refining our awkward silences (one of our quirkier pledger rewards). We’re going to polish and polish until the whole thing dazzles with strange brilliance. We owe our pledgers that much.

The book is scheduled for publication in November. If you like beautifully ornamented literary fiction that gives two fingers to genre, have a gander and maybe even treat yourself. That way, as the nights grow long and the frost begins to settle, you’ll be deeply absorbed in a feast for the eyes, ears and fingertips (and even the nose, if you’re showing that quirkier symptom of the digital age).

If you’re interested in finding out a little bit more about the project, here are some very kind words from Mary Corcoran on the significance of The Dust on the Moth and our supporters’ part in it.

Cheers!
Darren

Update on The Dust on the Moth Kickstarter campaign

Posted by Darren Simpson

Hi all,

In case you’re curious, here’s a quick update on Bees Make Honey’s Kickstarter campaign to publish The Dust on the Moth as a “multi-dimensional hardback”.

Actually, it’s not so much an update as a shameless copy-and-paste from an interview Kirsty Fox and I did for Nottingham’s Left Lion. I know – it’s lazy and I should try harder. But we all need to recycle wherever we can. Plus things are busy-busy-busy, time is short and time is money and money makes the world go round et cetera et cetera.

So here it is. Please have a look at the campaign page, share it with your chums and – if you like the look of this very unusual book – treat yourself and chip in! Only seven days to go and me oh my, doesn’t time fly.

The original interview is available here. Gratitude goes to Robin Lewis of Left Lion for doing the interview, and sincere thanks to everyone who’s helped out so far. Feel the love.

Why choose to crowdfund a book in this way?

Kirsty: I’ve been wanting to try out crowdfunding for a while. Part of what I do with Bees Make Honey is advise people on things like funding options and it’s much easier to advise someone if you have cold hard experience to go on. I choose book publishing because it’s one of my passions and because publishing is big upfront costs with uncertain return.

I learned this the hard way with the first book I published – I still have a hundred odd copies with no loving home to go to. The appeal of this is working out demand before you supply. If we’re successful Darren’s book will be in people’s hands being read and loved, not sat in my attic gathering poetic dust.

Darren: And there’ll be a lot to love – it’s going to be quite a lavish book. The decision to produce a hardback with colour artwork was partly guided by the desire to produce something physical and beautiful for people to own and treasure. In some ways it’s a reaction to the pervasiveness of digital content – which is great in many ways, but right now there’s a growing, almost fetishistic appreciation of more tangible objects. You only have to look towards the return of vinyl to see this.

But producing physical colour hardbacks isn’t cheap. Hence crowdfunding seemed to be the way to go. We’re hoping that people will be interested in being part of and investing in the production of something special.

Why this book?

Darren: The Dust on the Moth seems to fit in so well with Bee’s Make Honey’s mission. The novel actually had a tricky time in finding a home. Several literary agents and indie publishers really liked it but felt unable to handle the fact that it doesn’t fit neatly into a specific genre. But this happened to be exactly what Bees Make Honey were looking for: fiction that defies categorisation and gives two fingers to pigeonholes. So they had a gander and took it on, and now we’ve ended up with this hugely ambitious campaign.

Kirsty: I like Darren’s writing because he’s not afraid to take risks and have fun. There’s a rawness which traditionally published books tend to lack because they’re edited differently and are too self-conscious of their market. It’s like when you get a really good piece of music that’s overproduced. The Dust on the Moth takes an idea and runs away with it in ways that are both incredibly silly yet also still profound. It makes you laugh while also potentially giving you an existential crisis. I think that might be my favourite kind of art when it’s done well. Also, as a person to work with, Darren is very self-motivated. When I first met him, he was putting out illustrated short stories as Panspermia Press with illustrations from his friend Chris Baldwin. He was already collaborating and experimenting in order to get his work out there.

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The Kickstarter is over halfway done: how are things going with it?

Darren: We had an amazing start in which we got over a grand in just two days. But things have slowed down and we still have a way to go before meeting our £5000 target; failure to meet the target means we get none of the money pledged at all. This doesn’t seem to bode well, but actually represents a pretty common course for Kickstarter campaigns. A lot of campaigns get a depressing dip in the middle and then shoot up at the end to meet their target. So we’re hoping to start seeing that soon, especially with people’s impending paydays and the growing jeopardy factor. It’s playing out a little like an indie underdog story – I think that’s one of the things people like about crowdfunding projects like this.

Kirsty: It’s just like The Mighty Ducks. Except we can’t express our frustration with hockey sticks.

Darren: Beyond the financial side of things, the response from people has been fantastic. It’s humbling and wonderful to discover how supportive your friends and family are, and alongside this you get the backing and enthusiasm of total strangers, which is particularly rewarding.

What’s involved in the day to day running of a Kickstarter? Is it just a case of launching one and then keeping your fingers crossed?

Kirsty: Absolutely not. Anyone who uses that technique is likely to fail hard. You can’t expect the world to magically find your campaign amidst hundreds of others. There are people who browse Kickstarter looking for interesting things, but they’re not likely to see your campaign unless you’ve got off to a good start. You have to be on social media every day, trying to shout about it without repeating yourself too much and pissing people off! It’s hard work and tough on the ego too. It’s a huge benefit to do it as part of a team of four because you can keep each other’s spirits up, but I still feel the most responsible.

Darren: I mostly do what I’m told. This means distributing flyers, regularly promoting the campaign on Twitter (look out for #KICKSTARTMOTH) and guilt-tripping my friends and family into having a look, spreading the word and maybe even chipping in. At the more strategic level I get together with the Bees Make Honey team to discuss tactics and leave biscuit crumbs on Kirsty’s sofa. Recent tactics include a free prize draw for all pledgers and two new reward options: Bees Make Honey lucky dip bags crammed with goodies and personalised short stories on the subject of the pledger’s choice.

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Tell me about The Dust on the Moth. It seems to be a lot more than just a book.

Kirsty: We’re very aware of the decline in print publishing and the reasons why that is happening. We were also keen to do something collaborative and experimental because we’re the kind of people who lay awake at night with too many fantastic ideas buzzing around. The Dust on the Moth lends itself to experiment, so it just felt right to elaborate on the worlds Darren had created by giving the book extra dimensions. So we have illustrations by Dan and photographs by Phil, and they’re ‘world-building’ rather than taking things literally. They pick up on abstractions and less tangible aspects. There’s also a ‘soundtrack’ written by Dan in collaboration with Graham Langley of Savoy Grand.

We are also interested in digital experimentation and we’d love to make The ‘Moth into an even more multi-media project with moving image and an interesting platform – something much more than a bog standard e-book. But there are currently not enough hours in the day, nor money in the bank for this. So for this episode we’re mainly expressing our love of the printed book.

Darren: You could even say it’s more than a book at the narrative level. It’s two books in a way: two very different stories that become progressively tangled as you go along. Overall, I really hope the campaign is successful so that readers and art fans will have the opportunity to discover a unique book that goes way beyond the sum of its parts.

Kirsty: Many thanks to everyone who has contributed so far. If you like the sound of the project please help us out towards getting it funded. Even just sharing it and helping get the word out is much appreciated! Follow the hashtag #KickStartMoth.

Kirsty Fox is a social entrepreneur, writer and creative producer with Bees Make Honey Creative Community. Darren Simpson is the author of The Dust on the Moth. The Dust on the Moth is a collaborative project with an illustrator, Dan Layton and a photographer, Phil Formby.

The Dust On The Moth on Kickstarter
Bees Make Honey website

The Kickstarter campaign for The Dust on the Moth is Go Go Go!

Posted by Darren Simpson

Pretty slick video, if I say so myself. I’m biased, mind. Did you spot the Lionel Richie mug that says “Hello, is it tea you’re looking for?” Pure gold.

So, following my last post, I’m very excited to announce that the Kickstarter page for my book project with Bees Make Honey is live:

www.kickstarter.com/projects/beesmakehoney/the-dust-on-the-moth

Yep, you heard. It’s LIVE!

I won’t waste your time by blabbering on about the project. It’s all in the video above, and if a picture paints a thousand words, this video paints eight thousand and twenty-three (I did the maths).

And talking of a thousand, we’ve not had a bad start. We raised over a grand in just two days – that’s 20% of our target. But we still have a long way to go, and if we don’t meet the five thousand pound target by 1 May, we get none of the money pledged and can’t produce this multi-dimensional slab of beautiful strangeness called The Dust on the Moth.

That’s why I’m getting onto my knees, kissing the tips of your toes and asking that you have a look at the page, share it, get involved, spread the word and – if you like the look of the book – maybe even treat yourself to one of the many delectable rewards on offer. The success of this audacious campaign depends as much on exposure as on offering a lovely piece of audio-literary-visual oddness. The success of this campaign depends on you.

Thanks for having a gander, and feel free to get in touch.

No Buts – A Literary Oddity Finds a Home

Posted by Darren Simpson

(or: How Bees Make Honey Pimped My Novel)

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Once upon a time I wrote a story. Well, two stories. Or maybe three…

Anyway, however many, they started doing interesting things. Even though they were very different, I kept spotting common themes, images and motifs. The stories started merging together, and quite naively, I left them to it. I didn’t think about implications, target audiences, markets, genres. I just thought I’d see what happened. I ended up with a novel called The Dust on the Moth.

I remember the first time a literary agent showed an interest in The Dust on the Moth. She gushed a little in her emails, and then invited me to meet her in London. I couldn’t believe my luck. I was pumped. I booked a train ticket without hesitation. On the day I ironed a shirt and put on my lucky boxers. I was ready for destiny. And then, over an overpriced cup of Earl Grey, the agent – who was lovely, by the way – told me that she really liked the book but found it a little intimidating, and wasn’t really sure what she could do with it. I nodded politely and smiled with clenched teeth.

Fair dos, I thought. That’s just one agent. Plenty more fish in the sea. But other agents who requested the manuscript did the same: ‘It’s a great book…but perhaps a little too offbeat for the market.’ ‘Very strong imagery…but it’s a tricky book to categorise.’ ‘A refreshing concept…but it seems to fall between genres.’ And so on.

So I couldn’t help wondering: what’s the point? I’d tried to write something not only entertaining but also ambitious and original. I’d given three years to it. So why bother? What should I have done instead? Should I have watered myself down? Should I have been more generic? Would I have been better off writing about a young wizard who uncovers a Catholic conspiracy while getting gimpy with a sexy vampire millionaire?

It was disillusioning. I became jaded and bitter. I started shouting at kids in the street, kicking old ladies’ cankles, pushing prams down stairs. Eventually I found the strength to move on and write other things, but the bitterness of The Dust on the Moth lingered like the aftertaste of vomit in my mouth.

illustrations trio

And then came a minor miracle in the form of Kirsty Fox – miscreant megamind behind Bees Make Honey and one-woman creative industries empowerment machine. She chanced uponThe Dust on the Moth through Panspermia Press, and wanted to make it the next project for Bees Make Honey’s publishing arm. I met her at the Gladstone in Carrington. ‘But it’s too offbeat,’ I stammered. ‘Genres… Pigeonholes…’ Kirsty didn’t care. She saw all of the agents’ ‘buts’ as strengths. She wanted to publish it because it was different and because she liked it. Simple as. That’s how Kirsty works. The girl’s got balls. Figuratively speaking.

It was refreshing. It restored a lot of faith. My eyes had been opened to the integrity, passion and freedom of the DIY publishing scene. I was overjoyed. I started being nice to kids, helping old ladies cross the road, visiting injured babies in hospital. I was shitting rainbows.

So we got to work on polishing the story. Kirsty lent me her editor’s eye and I learned a lot about dialogue tags and thinking even more carefully about readers. As the story started to refine itself, Kirsty began to feel that it deserved better. She shone the Bees Make Honey signal into night sky and Dan Layton and Phil Formby came abseiling in through the windows. It was amazing to watch how, in their hands, The Dust on the Moth slowly evolved from run-of-the-mill ebook to lush multimedia objet d’art, complete with illustrations and photography. And with time, even that wasn’t enough; online and musical elements started to take shape. Exciting times.

photo trio

And then, another ‘but’. How were we going to fund such a lavish product? The answer was crowdfunding through Kickstarter. We felt optimistic that we were offering something unique that people interested in literary fiction/art/photography/curios would be interested in backing for a piece of the action. So we ploughed on. It was just like the A Team, except with less flame throwers and more cans of Red Stripe. It wasn’t long before The Dust on the Moth had taken on a life of its own. It’s no longer just a story. It’s no longer just mine. It’s a genuine collaboration – a one-of-a-kind, living, breathing, beautiful monster.

I’m chuffed that The Dust on the Moth has found a home with Kirsty and the lads – not only because it resonates so well with Bees Make Honey’s spirit, but also because I’ve had the opportunity to work with a nifty team of nerds I could almost call my friends. Almost.

Right. Enough about me and Bees Make Honey. You can find details of the Kickstarter campaign here. Have a gander. Get involved.

Over to you.

Panspermia Press – Deluxe Collections

Posted by Darren Simpson

My my, what’s that sexy thing I see reclining on a shelf at the Memories of the Future pop-up shop? Why, it’s Panspermia Press‘s deluxe collection – all seven previous issues from the press in a beautiful handcrafted package. Is there anything as alluring and luxurious? I think not.

Believe it or not, you can get your grubby mitts on one of these for just £4.50. Nonsensical value for money. Only six of them exist in our universe, so get in quick. And by quick I mean now. Go on. Off you go. Shoo.

The theme of the pop-up shop (which is in fact more of a festival than a shop) is analogue meets digital. It’s an interesting area. I mean, digital’s great, isn’t it. Very handy, very convenient. But analogue’s great too, for different reasons.

This deluxe collection speaks volumes on what’s great about “analogue”. It’s partially the inconvenience, isn’t it. The inconvenience of having it take up space on your shelf; the inconvenience of having to pick it up and brush its surface with your fingertips; the inconvenience of slowly undoing its velvety ribbon, of opening it up, of placing your hands inside and feeling the issues within; the inconvenience of carefully withdrawing an issue, unfolding it, admiring it in the light and reading its story.

Some inconveniences are lovely, aren’t they. Practically foreplay.

Okay, so this is getting a bit smutty. Forget foreplay. Think of it instead as ritual. This is what analogue gives us.

So get your hands on some analogue. Visit the wonderful Memories of the Future pop-up shop and check out Panspermia Press‘s deluxe collection. There’s plenty to see besides. The shop’s brimming with indie books, zines, records, artwork, workshops and biscuits. And it won’t be around for long. Catch it while you can.

Q&A with Panspermia Press by Bees Make Honey

Posted by Darren Simpson

Just so you know: as part of their Memories of the Future DIY projects series, the adorable folk at Bees Make Honey have interviewed Panspermia Press for their blog. You can check the Q&A out here, but if you can’t be bothered to click on the link, or if you simply can’t bear the thought of leaving this website, you’ll find a faithful transcript below.

Brace yourself. Here it comes:

Next up in our Memories of the Future DIY projects series is Panspermia Press who have been gifting illustrated short stories to the City of Nottingham for the past few years. Expect a macabre sense of humour, characters drawn from well-observed human oddity and a love for taking both the sublime and the ridiculous all the way to their bitter-sweet illogical end.

…And who might you be?

We’re Panspermia Press, also known as Darren and Chris.

What is Panspermia Press & why/how did you start?

Panspermia Press is a very small DIY press. Whenever the mood takes us we print off a pile of short stories as colourful illustrated pamphlets. Then we distribute them around Nottingham, usually leaving little piles at Nottingham Contemporary, Broadway, Lee Rosy’s and Geoff Blore’s bookshop. We came up with the idea for the project while touring with Savoy Grand in 2010. We felt there was a resonance between our writing and illustration styles, and it seemed like a fun way to collaborate. That’s what happens when you get free German beer every night for two weeks.

This is quite different to the usual method of self-publishing (either ebooks, or expensive print runs), it feels a bit more like you’re giving a gift to the world, is that intentional?

I guess it is a gift in the sense that we do it without expecting anything in return. Perhaps we’re true altruists. Or perhaps we’re narcissists. Or maybe we’re just insecure, lonely and crying out for love. Who knows. But there’s definitely something good about making something just for the sake of making it, and then letting people who might like it have it. The issues get snapped up quite quickly, so it’s nice to think that they might be scattered all over Nottingham, sitting on bookshelves or amongst stacks of magazines in loos. That was part of the appeal of the project: making something physical, attractive and – in a way – collectible for people to help themselves to. And it’s not art for art’s sake: Panspermia Press may at times be dark or surreal, but it’s always accessible and humorous too.

You both have backgrounds in independent music, do you think you’ve been influenced by the DIY nature of fanzines & gig promotion?

Chris has designed posters and flyers for Gringo Records and Damn You, amongst others, so that’s helped to hone his skills. And we’re both pretty seasoned in distributing flyers and so on – not that there’s much talent in that. More generally, I’d say being musicians in independent bands (and being surrounded by that environment) has possibly made us more susceptible to DIY projects and collaborations.

Would you call your publications zines?

I suppose they’re zines in the sense that they’re printed in very limited runs and involve a fair bit of passion, effort and expense without any financial gain. But unlike a lot of zines, they’re not topical or dedicated to bands or anything like that. Each issue is simply one illustrated short story. So I guess the press is dedicated very directly to illustration and to the short story form – two things we’re both big fans of.

How does the collaborative relationship work?

Usually I write a short story that’s in the spirit of the press, and if Chris likes it enough he’ll work on an illustration and put the whole thing together. Then we usually stress ourselves out with print shops and imaginary deadlines before finally taking a stroll around town with a plastic bag full of issues. We were actually close friends a long time ago as kids, and met again by coincidence in Nottingham. So the collaboration and all of its practical elements are quite social – much like being in a band. Writing and illustrating can be a lonely, soul-destroying business, so it’s not unwise to join forces with others.

Do you make them in order to promote your other creative work (novel & short story writing/design stuff)?

We don’t really use it to promote our other work directly. There was one occasion where my first novel was shortlisted for a publisher’s online competition, and we distributed an issue to try to earn it some votes; the novel came second place, and maybe the issue contributed to that. And that novel – somewhat by accident – has now come to the attention of a local publisher through the press, so I guess there was some indirect promotion at work there. But that’s all exception and chance. Otherwise, it’s just good to have something like this on your artistic CV. And it all feeds into our other creative work in that it provides purpose, practice, collaboration and new perspectives.

Any practical recommendations or useful links for those embarking on similar activities?

As Bukowski said: “Find what you love and let it kill you.” But that’s not very practical, is it. Perhaps we should start being more practical.

Your creative pursuits are very much labours of love rather than money-making endeavours. Do you prefer things this way?

We love money. Money’s great. Hence we’ll be charging a meagre fee for the deluxe collections stocked at the pop-up shop. It would be great to always get money for doing what we love – at least in order to break even – but that’s often not the way it works and we’re fine with that. We’re used to that from being in bands. Sometimes you just have to do something because you like doing it, because you think it’s good and because you hope other people will think it’s good too. There’s a lot of this around. The digitalisation of most mediums means that creative endeavours are more accessible, democratic and widespread than ever before, which is great, but it means there’s less financial value to them, in a way. But there’s lots of other value there instead. This is romanticism, I suppose. Illogical, misguided, deluded romanticism. But we can’t help ourselves.

You’re latest release ‘Take the next exit for love’ is about a lonely man developing romantic affections for a Sat Nav. What inspired this?

I had the idea for the story quite a long time ago. I think it was inspired by an article I read about some countries having male voices on their satnavs because male drivers didn’t like to take instructions from a woman. It got me thinking and I ended up imagining the scenario of falling in love with a satnav. The idea had been bobbing around for quite some time, and when we were invited to produce a special issue for the pop-up shop, it seemed to fit perfectly with the shop’s theme of digital versus analogue. It’s a tongue-in-cheek take on the explorations of artificial intelligence and human emotion we see in sci-fi and philosophy. It’s very Panspermia Press. We’re really into taking very mundane things to unusual extremes. Hence we have stories about fatally competitive yuppies and apocalyptic paper shredders.

Many thanks to PP for answering our questions. Deluxe packs of their short stories will be available to purchase in the Memories of the Future shop from 8th October (and later online if there’s any left) at the bargain price of £4.50. Their current release Take The Next Exit For Love can be snapped up for free at Geoff Blore’s, Nottingham Contemporary, Lee Rosy’s Tea or Broadway Cinema, if you’re quick.

Panspermia Press Issue 7: “Take the Next Exit for Love”

Posted by Darren Simpson

Good news: the new issue of Panspermia Press, “Take the Next Exit for Love”, is now out. It’s a story about a man who falls in love with a satnav. It will either make you laugh or cry. Or perhaps both. Tear ducts and chuckle tubes all sprout from the heart, after all.

You can find copies scattered all over Nottingham – principally at Nottingham Contemporary, Lee Rosy’s, Broadway, Geoff Blore’s lovely bookshop, and on benches all over the Arboretum, plonked amongst brown paper bags and abandoned trainers.

This issue is brought to you in association with Bees Make Honey’s Memories of the Future pop-up shop. Copies will be available in goodie bags (free to people swapping zines) at the shop, and deluxe collections containing all previous issues will be available for purchase at a steal of a price. More on those bad boys to come…