Saturday, 1 December 2012


 Hi everyone,

It's taken me a long time to update my website but it's been a busy year with two new books being published, BY EASTERN WINDOWS and THE FAR HORIZON and the third in the trilogy (Macquarie Series) about to be started in January after the Christmas break.

My sales on Amazon have been excellent since the first Ebook in my backlist went up for sale and I want to say thankyou to all my readers, especially those who have taken the time to send me their compliments and write such good reviews about my Irish series, THE LIBERT TRILOGY.

TREAD SOFTLY ON MY DREAMS  seems to have have had a major impact on a number of readers, including two separate screenwriters who have expressed interest in turning it into a film, but we will see. I'm not just accepting any offer. It's a very special story and needs a screenwriter with passion and visual vision  - not just the story and dialogue lifted straight off my written pages. But I'm delighted at the response to my novel about Robert Emmet's life story, which makes me think of a statement recorded by another unique man about Robert's story, ten years after the events:

'It's such a pity it all happened so near my own time, because it would make a wonderful historical novel.' (Lord Byron)

Of course, Byron knew all the details because he was a close friend of the Irish poet Thomas Moore, one of Emmet's best friends at Trinity College.
I'm also over the moon about those readers in Australia who have contacted me about the first two books in the Macquarie Series. I always knew the Australian readers would be my true test of whether I had done a good job in writing - based on detailed research - my interpretation in novel form of Lachlan Macquarie's life story - a man I knew nothing about, and only discovered him when I was researching Michael Dwyer's story for the ending of FIRE ON THE HILL - strange how - the stories and people in them being true - one book just naturally seems to lead to another.

Anyhow my darlings, thank you all again, and here's wishing you all a great Christmas break and a happy and wonderful, dream-fulfilling new year of 2013.


Wednesday, 19 September 2012


Many readers have contacted me lately to know if my own childhood experiences in an Irish orphanage were my own real back-story now written as Marian's back-story in my novel GHOSTS IN SUNLIGHT.

I've got to be honest, the answer is - hell no.

Goldenbridge, where I suffered, is now known as one of the most notorious orphanages for girls in Ireland, and now famous for its unbelievable cruelty to the children it had in its care. So much so that the Catholic Church and the Irish Government itself has now publicly and personally apologised to every one of those children, me included.

But Marian - no, her story was very different to mine. First, she was brought up in an English orphanage, Barnardos , which, I discovered in my research and also when I went down there to Barnardos in Barkingside when writing the book, to be more like a holiday camp in comparison to Goldenbridge. There has never been any complaints about cruelty in Barnardos, and it seems that although the conditions were strange and no substitute to a child for a loving family home, the people working there really did care for the children and the conditions were not bad.

Even now, Barnardos is still doing wonderful work helping homeless teenagers and those suffering with drug problems.

Marian Barnard is quintessentially English in every way, in the nice and polite way she speaks, in the very well-mannered way she behaves, but in GHOSTS IN SUNLIGHT - in the short flashbacks to her earlier life - the only similarity I wanted to convey was the innate loneliness suffered by such children - no matter their age, even the very young children, and no matter how caring their "House Mothers" -- they all know they have been abandoned to the care of strangers, some never knowing or ever finding out the reason why.

In Marian, we also see the vulnerability of these children when they become young adults, their lack of knowledge and savvy in dealing with the smart people in the world outside, and ultimately their innate sense of inferiority from the outset, which only a very lucky few manage to outgrow.

But it surprised me that so many readers were caught up in Marian's story and wanted to know how authentic is her back-story in relation to my own. Marian's story forms only the first third of the novel, so I was less surprised by those French readers who wrote to me about "Jacqueline".

The title GHOSTS IN SUNLIGHT is in no way related to anything ghostly or supernatural, but is a metaphor for the things and people that haunt the back of the mind.

For Jacqueline, it is the shadow of the people and events she experienced during her time as a young and hate-filled  teenage sabotage commando in the French Resistance after the invasion of her beloved Paris by Hitler and his Nazis. But unlike Marian, who is a naturally sweet and innocent girl, Jacqueline becomes incapable of  feeling any regret  for anything she has done in the past, not even her direct and personal cold-blooded murders.

For Marc, the young American who is Jacqueline's son, it is Marian, the girl he truly loves but is forced to leave behind when he is sent out to fight in the Vietnam War.

For Phil, the main protagonist of the second half of the book, it is all of them - Marian, Marc, Jacqueline and all the others involved in their personal lives. His seeking of vengeance is as determined and as cold as Jacqueline's, yet he possesses a lot of  Marian's good heart and love within him.

As one critic stated, "It is a multi-layed novel set in London, Paris, Massachusetts, Rome and Stockholm, impossible to sum up in a few sentences ..." And after its first publication GHOSTS IN SUNLIGHT went on to be bought and translated by six European publishers and is currently under negotiation in Japan.

But back to the real basis of my point in writing this - as a writer of true and factional novels, as well as those novels simply with authentic backgrounds such as GHOSTS IN SUNLIGHT, my wish is for the readers to give no thought to me personally when reading my books - I have always believed that the story is all, the characters are all, and the author should simply be a name on the binder.

And finally, to those readers who have contacted me, and given me so many compliments about my work - I send you my thanks and appreciation, and much love.


Thursday, 2 August 2012


She was great, she was lovely, she was the least pretentious author in the business of books.

I remember when I was in Ireland about 10 years ago, there to do a book signing tour, my Irish publisher told me that a number of radio stations wanted to interview me. I went into meltdown - terrified - knowing I would be so nervous I would probably babble away non-stop and go way off the focus and the topic of the question,  and ultimately make a hash of it all.

Then later that night, I saw Maeve Binchy as a guest on The Late, Late Show ... Ah, Maeve Binchy I thought, if only I was like her I would be able to face all interviews with utter confidence and panache; after all, at that time Maeve had sold tens of millions of books and was a literary Irish treasure.
So finally, on the show, Gay Byrne gave her a great introduction and Maeve came on and took her seat, all in a fluster.
Gay asked her a question about her latest book and Maeve responded by babbling on and on about the driving test she had just taken that day. He eventually attempted to interrupt her and bring the subject back to her book but no, Maeve was still in a fluster, assuring him she was fine now because she had prayed before the driving test to St Jude - and as everyone knows, Maeve informed him, St Jude was the patron saint of all things wanted and needed that appeared to be `impossible' to achieve on one's own.
From then on, she was just a joy to watch, to listen to - a real and lovely woman who had never bothered to learn how to act like a celebrity.  

My home is full of her books, lovely, long, gossipy books filled with real people in real situations that every woman can relate to. Of course, as well as being a lovely person, Maeve was also as tough as old leather boots - that's why her characters were so down to earth and real - Maeve never put any frilly sweet icing on her creative cakes.

It's sad to think now that she has left us. Ireland will miss her, because Ireland and all the Irish were so proud of her.

But she has left behind a library of good books for us to read, and re-read again and again, because reading a Maeve Binchy book is like sitting down and relaxing with a good friend.

God bless you, Maeve. As long as we have your books, you will always be with us.


Wednesday, 20 June 2012


`Part thriller, part love story, it’s hard to resist turning the pages.’                     Belfast Telegraph


Now a young woman, Marian Barnard is an orphan in search of her true identity. She meets a handsome young American who becomes the love of her life — unaware that waiting for her is his mother’s cold callousness, and a killer’s blasé indifference.

Set primarily in London and Massachusetts, Ghosts in Sunlight is graphically honest in its description of both overwhelming passion and deep hatred. A love story that suddenly changes gear and takes a startling change of direction.


`A fast-paced tale involving vast sums of money, immense power, women both wounded and wounding, and a variety of credible male characters from the traumatised Vietnam Veteran Jimmy Overman to the seedy publisher, James Duncan… an excellent book.’    IE BOOK REVIEW

Thursday, 14 June 2012



Ebook and Paperback.

                                                    BY EASTERN WINDOWS

“Fabulous and heartbreaking … fresh and authentic in every detail … it has to be the best book I have read about the British in India since M. M. Kaye’s `The Far Pavilions’ – Dr Aileen Keegan.

Set in the beauty of Scotland, the magic of India, and the hostility of China, peopled with memorable characters of all races, By Eastern Windows is the story of a young British soldier, Lachlan Macquarie, posted to India where he meets Jane Jarvis, a young girl from the Caribbean – beautiful, different and exciting – who becomes the greatest love, and the greatest tragedy, of his life. 

It is also the story of the young men who travelled with him, far from home, serving their King in a country they came to love, while coping with the complex differences between East and West.

Ebook and Paperback.

I'm so excited about the publication of my new book. It took me so long to research in foreign climes that I had to write two contemporary books inbetween. Anyway it's done now, a true story told in novel form, and I wish it well. I'm already working on the sequel. It went up on a FREE promo this morning for a few days and it has already reached # 18 in Historical Fiction bestsellers list - the FREE list - so hopefully all you lovely guys will eventually put this new novel in the PAID list. If you do, I will love you all forever - but also if you do, and more importantly, I hope you get great enjoyment reading it.


BY EASTERN WINDOWS (Book One of The Jarvisfield Trilogy) by Gretta Curran Browne BY EASTERN WINDOWS (Book One of The Jarvisfield Trilogy)





BY EASTERN WINDOWS (Book One of The Jarvisfield Trilogy) by Gretta Curran Browne BY EASTERN WINDOWS (Book One of The Jarvisfield Trilogy)


Saturday, 28 April 2012



(So sad to be republishing this tribute to a great man - four years after first writing it and posting it - Farewell Ali, RIP - 4th June 2016) 


Was packing to move home recently, sorting out boxes of old stuff, and throwing things out. Wondered if I should just bin the VCR that had had been shoved away under the stairs when the DVD player took its place – who watches videos these days? Nobody I know.

Behind the VCR was a cardboard box of old videos – old recordings of old programmes that held no interest anymore – most of them had probably never even been watched, just recorded and stored for a rainy day and then forgotten.
Sifting through the videos I was hoping there was none I would want to keep, because that would mean I would have to keep the VCR – so much junk in life, just want to get rid of it all.

Then I saw one video with a name written on the label and I knew straight away I would have to keep the VCR. Fifteen years have passed since I had recorded the event on the tape – a very special event – on the night of Monday, March 24th 1997.

Ten minutes later I had set up the VCR, plugged in, and replayed the tape, which brought a lump to my throat as it all, came back to me so clearly.
Like most other insomniacs here in the UK, on Monday March 24th 1997, I watched the 69th Oscars all the way through until 5.30.a.m on Tuesday morning. We all knew – because the experts had already told us so – that The English Patient was going to pick up an Oscar in nearly every category, so it promised to be a boring and predictable night.

Was I in for a surprise! It happened about an hour into the show; the nominations for `Best Documentary Picture.’ 
Suddenly the music and the fast rapping singing of The Fugees thundered out at the same time as the backdrop screen showed a series of shots of a young man in a boxing ring – a dynamically beautiful young black man who still has one of the most recognisable faces in the world. It was a face that took me straight back to the early days of my youth, straight back to dream city when anything was possible and our heroes really were great.

Back then there were no fake celebrities with minimal talent who spent most of their time peddling stuff in TV commercials – but there were a lot of stars – real stars of their professions.

The five nominations for `Best Documentary Film’ now over, Tommy Lee Jones opened the red-sealed envelope, and smiled his approval.  When We Were Kings, made by Leon Gast and David Sonenberg, had won the Oscar.

The applause was good, but not rapturous. Maybe, like myself, many people were puzzled by the title, When We Were Kings, because for so many of us, the boxing world has only ever had one king – a man who was more than just the greatest boxer of his time and perhaps all time – three times heavyweight champion of the world – Muhammad Ali.

 Everyone listened patiently as Leon Gast stood at the microphone and gave thanks, deservedly, to everyone involved in the making of the film. But when he finally said those two magical words – “Muhammad Ali” – the applause thundered, followed by the entire audience rising to a tumultuous standing ovation as THE MAN himself walked slowly onto the stage.    

He was 55 years old, back then in 1997, and Ali was no longer the man he once was, impaired as he is by failing health.  Where the punches of so many boxers couldn’t catch him, Parkinson’s syndrome finally did. Some of the audience were crying as they choked back the emotion, but I knew it was not pity or sadness they felt as they stared at this monument of a man with awe and reverence. They knew they were in the presence of a man who deserved to be honoured.

And if the film When We Were Kings helped to do that, helped to remind people of just how great Muhammad Ali was, then I hope it broke sales-targets all over the world.

The story of Muhammad Ali is not just the story of a great athlete; it's a story of courage, of determination, and a man who possessed a firelight magic of wit and charm that warmed up the world.
If you never knew him, if he was not a part of your world, or if you have just forgotten him, then let me remind you who he was, and who he still is.

In 1954, at the age of twelve, Cassius Clay, a black kid from Louisville, Kentucky, suddenly realised that he was never going to be able to buy the American Dream. His parents had no money, so nobody was going to hand him the good life on a plate for free. Also, his grades in school were no better than average, so it was unlikely he would end up a whiz-kid lawyer or financier on Wall Street either – even in a firm that did hire black people, and in 1954 many of them didn't.

But like James Brown, Cassius Clay was black and he was proud, and if he couldn't buy the American Dream then he would just have to earn it – by the pursuit of excellence in the game he played best.
By the time he was fourteen he was training hard and relentlessly at his local gym and telling all his friends, `See me, Cassius Clay, one day I'm going to be the heavyweight boxing champion of the world.'

After that he went on to win six Kentucky Golden Gloves championships, two national Golden Gloves tournaments, and in 1960, at the age of 19, he went to Rome and won the Olympic Gold Medal for America.

Less than four years later in Miami, on February 25th 1964, Cassius Clay beat the previously "indestructible" Sonny Liston in seven rounds. At the age of 22 Cassius had fulfilled his dream and become the heavyweight-boxing champion of the world.  

Ten years thereafter he was the most famous man on the planet, and possibly one of the richest. By that time he had discarded what he regarded as his "slave name" of Cassius Clay and had become the legend known as Muhammad Ali.

To fully understand the magic and impact of the man, I suppose – as that song says – `Guess you had to be there,' –  when every young guy seemed to be perpetually raising both fists triumphantly in the air and chanting the Ali boast –
`I am the Grrrrrrr-eatest!'

Some older journalists will tell you that more words have been written in newspapers about Muhammad Ali than any other public figure in history. But if that's true, it was because Ali was a reporter's dream. He never stopped talking. He took care of his own publicity and promoted every one of his fights by upgrading bragging into an art form.

  "Man, I'm so great, I impress even myself."

  `Would you consider yourself a good role model for children?' a reporter once asked him.

  `I'm a perfect role model for children,' Ali replied sincerely, `because I'm good looking, clean living and modest.'


    `Well, you know, it’s hard to be modest when you're as great as I am.'

  And then there were his poems, hundreds of them; some say he made one up for every fight and one for every reporter he ever met.

              This is the legend of Muhammad Ali

              The greatest fighter that ever will be

              He talks a great deal and brags, yes indeed

              Of a powerful punch and blinding speed.

              Ali fights great, he's got speed and endurance

 If you sign to fight him, increase your insurance

              Ali's got a left, Ali's got a right

              If he hits you once, you're asleep for the night.

 Inside the ring he had speed, grace and magic, a champion's champion. Outside the ring he was a non-stop entertainer, and it was the entertainer that all the females loved.  He took the sport of boxing from the back page and put it on the front page. He turned the fight business into showbusiness. And when Ali stopped, all that stopped too. And the void he left behind has never been filled, not by anyone. As Ali himself used to say about his opponents,  "I'm the greatest, they're just the latest."  

 Boxing has returned to the back pages and nobody gets very excited anymore.

 Until, that is, on Monday night, 24th March 1997, when Muhammad Ali walked onto the stage of the 69th Academy Award Ceremony to receive the Oscar for When We Were Kings.

 Watching the recording again tonight, I saw all those stars standing up in ovation, I saw James Woods simply mouthing the word “Wow” and other top actors biting their lips with emotion as they clapped and clapped their hands for the man who so deservedly was the star of the film “When We Were Kings.”
And it wasn’t just empty or vainglorious emotion, no; because all of that audience knew that the awesome man standing up there on the stage was a true and great fighter, not only in boxing, but also in heart and in spirit.

They had all seen the proof of that only a year earlier, along with billions of people all over the globe, when Muhammad Ali, as ill as he was, had forced himself forward with every step until he finally and determinedly reached the flame and lit the torch for the start of the Olympic Games in Atlanta in 1996, holding the flaming torch high, not just for America, not just for the entire world – but for every young athlete who was preparing to take part in those Olympic Games, just as he had once done in his own youth, and won Gold.

Sure he was an audacious bragger about himself. Sure he said terrible things about his opponents before every fight, but a lot of it was just talk to create a buzz in the media and a frenzy amongst reporters so the fight would begin in the newspapers long before he and his opponent even stepped into the ring.

He later explained they were just “promotional insults” and so they may have been, because every opponent of Muhammad Ali immediately received a worldwide fame and riches that might never have been theirs if Ali had never entered the boxing world.   
The opponent who suffered the worst of those  promotional insults” was Joe Frazier – his opponent in the big fight screened all over the world and labelled “The Thriller in Manila.”

Yet, when Joe Frazier died only five months ago in November 2011 from cancer, Muhammad Ali, much frailer now, but showing the same heart and determination as he had shown in Atlanta, forced himself with every step to attend Joe’s funeral.
Another opponent, the one he hurt the most with  defeat in the ring, was legendary fighter and champion George Foreman who was beaten by Ali in Zaire, and although it took George Foreman seven years to finally forgive boxing’s biggest icon for beating him, he went on to become Ali’s close friend, paying tribute to him just three months ago in January when speaking about Ali’s illness.

I don’t feel sorry for him; I feel proud that I even know him. All those years ago, Ali didn’t fall in love with being young and doing that dancing shuffle in the boxing ring, he fell in love with life.

“I don’t feel sad about his illness, because the guy is still a hero. He’s still living, he doesn’t hide himself away, he’s above pity. He’s still beautiful to me.”

In the world of boxing, Muhammad Ali is still regarded as  “the greatest,” and not even his increasing burden of suffering from Parkinson’s syndrome will ever take that title away from him. Along with the Olympic Gold Medal he won for America at the age of 19, he won that title fair and square, in the ring.

(When We Were Kings – A documentary film about Ali’s winning fight against George Foreman in Zaire, labelled “The Rumble In The Jungle”)

© Gretta Curran Browne 2012
Ali Image (C) The Telegraph

 All Gretta Curran Browne's eBook Titles can be obtained from Amazon.


Friday, 6 April 2012


The other night I read somewhere on Joe Konrath's Blog that Jodi Picoult has also said in a TV interview that authors should NOT SELF PUBLISH.

Why not?

With trade and legacy publishers sacrosanctly allowing an author to publish only one book a year, and with all publishers themselves publishing a limited amount of  "choice select" books every year - what are all the other talented writers to do with their talent?

Believe they don't have any talent because some numpty in a publishing house said so?

Bury that talent and do something else?

Or keep all their rejection slips from their mostly "unread" scripts to line their coffin at a future date?

For any "choice select" author to tell or warn all new and aspiring writers NOT to self publish is no different to telling them to


All this stigma and high-nose sneering about self-publishing Indie authors is fake anyway. And it's the trade and legacy publishers themselves who have come out of the dark and proved how fake it is -by trawling through Amazon and paying millions to sign up self-pubbers like Amanada Hocking and others.

So if she's so good - why was Amanda Hocking rejected so many times over so many years by publishers which led her to self-publish and PROVE that she was good and worth reading by so many readers.

What if Amanda had decided to keep waiting to see if another bus came along? She would still be standing and waiting and waiting as yet another bus and another bus drove by with the FULL sign up.

I have been published by three major publishers.  GHOSTS IN SUNLIGHT has been sold to and translated by six European publishers  and ORDINARY DECENT CRIMINAL to even more including Japan - and I wasn' even a "choice select" author who got all the push and publicity either. Yet all I got from all those sales was pennies in comparison to what the publishers and bookstores got from the sales of those books created and written by me.

So when nicely-cushioned published authors like Jodi Picoult,  and others like her,  tell new and aspiring writers NOT to self publish - remember just two words - AMANDA HOCKING.

Oh, PS: In one of my own genres, Historical Fiction, I see that today, Easter Saturday, April 7th, the #1 bestselling book is that large category on Amazon's Kindle store  is by a self-published author - "The Girl Who Came Home" (A Titanic Novel) by Hazel Gaynor. It is also #1 in two other categories.

So all I can say to that Indie authors is, congratulations and well done!

Good luck to all Indies



Tuesday, 27 March 2012


On this morning’s television show of The Wright Stuff, best-selling author Jodi Picoult gave her views on the current debate about the pricing of eBooks, pointing out that the main reason that readers do not believe they should pay as much for an eBook as they would for a print book is because `it’s not a book – it’s just a `file' transmitted to the buyer’s eReader.

`But what readers don’t realise,’ Jodi went on, `is when they buy a book, it’s not pulped paper they are buying – it’s a work regarded by law as the author’s `intellectual property’. Just as real in law as any bricks-and-mortar property. Hence, the copyright notices on all editions – just as real in law as the deeds to your house.

On the same panel, ex-MP’s wife, Christine Hamilton, opined, `Yes, but there is nothing quite like holding a book.’

Is that really what readers are paying for – to hold a heavy wad of paper? I always thought the same main rule for Hollywood applied also to books – `What’s the story?’

When I first started reading books as a youngster, the wad of paper I was holding meant nothing – the story was all. The story took me into other lands and other times and each book was like a holiday away from it all.

Of course I did not realise way back then, that all my little holidays away from it all were due to the talent and hard work of the authors who had written the books. All my appreciation went to the local Library who let me read them for free.

Okay, eBooks are just  ‘a file’ transmitted onto an eReader – so let’s look at the actual cost of both. The last traditionally printed novel I had published cost £2,500 for the first 2000 print run and every 1000 copies printed after that cost 23 pence a copy.

In the bookstore the buyer paid £7.99p, of which the bookstore took 50% of the selling price – the publisher took 42.5% – and the creator of the product (the author) got 7.5% of the publisher’s cut  = 26 pence. And out of that 26 pence per book, the author’s agent takes a further cut.

No wonder 90% of all authors struggle to make a living from their work – although for decades they have been making a very good living for publishers, bookstores and agents who live off the sweats of their work.

Then along came the techno experts and changed the world in so many ways, including the world of books. Now, thanks to those geniuses, the ‘content provider’ of the book (author) can sell directly to the ‘content consumer’ (reader) without having to support all those ‘main beneficiaries’ in-between.

Everyone is moaning and complaining these days about how publishers rip off authors, but hey – why is nobody complaining about the disgraceful way bookstores – especially the chain bookstores – are ripping off both publishers AND authors?

Some chains are now demanding 55% - 60% of the selling price from publishers, some even demand more than that. And worse, they also demand the right to return all copies of books they do not sell.

So publishers and authors are filling the shelves of their stores at no financial risk to the bookstore. If it doesn’t sell after 6 months – they can just fling it back to the publisher. In most cases, the cover is just torn off and sent back, because the books have been handled by book browsers and are no longer in the new and pristine condition sent by the publisher.

In what other business would this be allowed? Hey, fill your shop with my designer clothes and any you don’t sell you can fling back.

In any other business?  No way!

Bookstores have though, in the last few years, attempted to remedy the situation to some extent – by bringing back apartheid to the world of books.

Now they will only stock best-selling brand-named authors on their shelves. The top 10% that are pushed and publicised to the hilt, no matter how bad their latest novels have become; and the other 90% can go and stand forever outside the huge gates locked to them.

The reader, of course, is not given a chance to discover anything new, although they don’t yet realise that their choice has long been censored by the bookstores.

What many of us book-lovers are now wondering, if this no-risk strategy of bookstores continues – where is the new generation of brand-name authors going to come from? Or is it their plan to occasionally open the locked gates a fraction and let the odd apartheid author inside in order to help build up the stock?

No wonder book chains like Borders have crumbled and died, and others will follow – the blind leading the blind over the cliff to doom.

But back to eBooks. They really are going to be the best way of reading in the future. I learned this just a few months ago while in Australia and got pneumonia and was confined to bed for over a week. The sun outside was blazing and my husband and son had gone off sightseeing, but I was stuck in bed. I tried to read a novel but it was heavy, and at the beginning I needed two hands to hold the first pages back, so I threw it down, too weak to be bothered.

Then my daughter handed me her new Kindle and told me to order any book of my choice from Amazon. I ordered `The Help` and the story was there for me in less than a minute, and the Kindle was so light I had no problem lying back and reading the story with one hand.

And `The Help` was everything a novel should be – it took me to another country and another time and was so engrossing and so entertaining I actually got better while reading it!

For me now, eBooks are my new way of reading – but a problem still remains: which brings me back to Jody Picoult’s comment on TV this morning that readers feel they should not have to pay as much for a transmitted `file’ as opposed to a paper book.

I agree with the readers – they should not have to pay as much for an eBook edition, because the costs for travelling Publisher’s reps and greedy bookstores has been cut out – but it is also unfair for readers to expect the price of eBooks to be dirt cheap.

After all, readers are getting the same novel, the same intellectual property belonging to the author, as they would in a print book, and authors of books are just as entitled to be paid a fair rate for their work as they are in any other profession.

Sadly though, some people think writing a book is as easy as reading one. And that dumb bunch of people seems to also include a lot of publishers who make their living from the work of authors.

The eBook has to go through the same formatting and editing processes; a cover still has to be designed and made; and the technology of uploading an eBook is not that much different to the same process used by traditional printers.

So, readers are getting the same stories to read, but in a different container to the hallowed wad of pulped paper – and those piles of pulped paper do seem a bit outmoded in this congested and lack-of-space world most of us now live in.

Bookstores have been riding on the King’s white horse for too long. Amazon and others have opened the gates and put an end to their system of discriminatory and literary apartheid. The ‘content provider’ and the ‘content consumer’ of books have a free road with no gatekeepers blocking the way or censoring their choice.

But to believe that eBooks must be dirt cheap in comparison to the print edition? Cheaper than a cup of coffee?  Well, that’s just being mean!

So eBook or paper, whichever you choose, happy reading.


Ghosts In Sunlight
Gretta Curran Browne
Available for download now

Saturday, 3 March 2012

MY TIME TO SAY HELLO: Gretta– An Independent SpiritOne thing I love abo...

Gretta – An Independent Spirit

One thing I love about having my own blog and website is that I can now connect directly with my readers, and thank them sincerely for all the lovely letters I have received over the years about my books.

I’m also delighted to now have my novels published as eBooks, so all those readers who have written to me from Australia, New Zealand and the US will not have to wait for weeks for delivery by snail-mail, but will get them as fast as a click on a button – and snap – there it is! Those great techno experts have changed the world.

I’m also looking forward to the reprinting of all my books in paperback, because I’m seeing a lot of ludicrous prices being asked for “used” copies out there on various web sites – $150 to $329 – one of my “used” paperbacks sold a few weeks ago for $999 ! Only a true fan would pay that, but I reckon all readers should have to pay no more than a reasonable price for a book.
As you will see, I have written two “tie-in” books for a movie and a TV series, both commissioned by their production companies, and I hope to do more; but now I am excitedly preparing for the publication later this year of my new Historical novel, By Eastern Windows.

Bye for now.