Book Launch: Will Conway Tastes of Ink

Written by Lazy Gramophone Press on Monday the 4th of April 2011
We here at Lazy Gramophone Press are currently celebrating the publication of our fifth book: Will Conway Tastes of Ink: 

A message;

A history;

A quest;

A passing;

A death sentence;

A claim;

A sacrifice;

A confession;

A loss;

Nine stories, some sweet, some rather unsavoury... but all very tasty.

Will Conway's first book, complete with illustrations by Daniel Chidgey, is a collection of short stories about life, death and everything in between.

To mark this new release we held a Tastes of Ink Book Launch at The Betsey Trotwood, last Sunday 27th March 2011. In honour of his new book, Will Conway was joined by fellow artists Joanne Tedds, Vincent J Prince, and Tom Conway, all of whom took the opportunity to turn in barnstorming performances as the day progressed.

The ever roaming Lazy Gramophone market stall was also in attendance, brandishing  our now diminished (yet still proudly bulging) horde of handmade wares.

While the bar successfully lived up to its fully licensed reputation, dishing out drinks and roasts at a prodigious rate - it certainly was an unmissible Sunday!

... and so one last enormous thank you to everyone who came along, offered their support and bought a copy of the book. We are a self funding  publisher and without  your continued protagonism it simply would not be possible  for us to continue supporting the brilliant writers and artists you see on our site.


For those who couldn't make it, we have gathered together (mostly in word form) some highlights from the day's performances:

Will Conway


"When in Rome... don't rush to meet any unreasonable deadlines for large-scale construction work.


I'm lying on my bed with my chin hanging over the side, wondering whether I'll get up now or wait a little bit and be late. Something like a heavy fly falls from the curtain into a box full of books under the window. Well that's what it sounds like. Now I can hear it's definitely some kind of flying insect as it's starting to make feeble attempts to get going like a shaver with low battery. Sounding like an old mobile phone underneath some papers, he doesn't seem to be doing so well. What an idiot. After a while I forget about him but then I see him jump and hover for a second before falling. I figure that the weather's getting nicer so perhaps he was hibernating somewhere in the curtain of the window frame and now it's become warm enough to wake him up. I moved in here in spring so he'll have lived here longer than me in that case. It is a wasp by the way, a fairly large one. I scoff as I watch him drunkenly try to take off for some time, projecting his sound into the future when I'm hung over on Sunday and he's buzzing round my head as I try to sleep or die or something. He's floating up out of the box just over the tops of the books for moments at a time like an indecisive warship over a city. Look at you wasp, what are your plans? What exactly are you going to with your day? I don't hate you yet but I will come to do so. Are you just going to reacquaint yourself with all the hiding places in your bedroom, taking care to find the place with the best acoustics where you can remain an invisible annoyance? Will you still be here to bug me when I return from work? I look at the time on my phone which provokes me to stop writing. Thanks wasp, I'm late now. I write the rest of this on the bus which has less people because I'm late. Usually every other person this side of town has to get to the exact same place as me at the exact same time. Maybe this bus will catch up with my normal bus because there's less traffic outside of that crucial twenty minute window. I think back to the wasp and debate feeling guilty for blaming him for my tardiness. I look at the mark on my notebook where his pasty guts were wiped off.

Vincent J Prince


I've found that the gaps grow
and the cracks show and
the grass grows - to fill them
and the jade fingers prise apart further
and the gaps and the cracks become chasms
which become voids
and voids can't be filled -
at least by conventional means
And things become very cold
and things work backwards and
mirrored like madam, I'm adam, but I'm not- I'm me
and that which you draw closer
is only further away
and all you can do is look.

For more from Vincent, click the video at the end of this post to see him performing live.

Tom Conway

Sadly we have not the power to embed music into this post but click this link and you will be handsomely rewarded.


All remaining copies of the first edition of Tastes of Ink are now on sale in our online shop.

Follow this link for an introduction to Tastes of Ink

Follow Will Conway: - (@tastesofink) on Twitter - on Facebook

"I dange. I am a danger.” ~ Will Conway

Tags for this post: Gramophone, Will, Conway, Tastes, Ink.

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Title: Vincent speaks
By: LazyGramophone
Lazy Says: Vincent Speaks
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