The Tide is Bringing Something Special

Next week, something rather wonderful is due to arrive.

After months of quiet work behind the scenes, the very first batch of Shellfolk of the Shore books will be making their way to me. Not the full release just yet, but something a little more special. These are the artist proof copies.

Artist proofs are the final step before the book is shared with the wider world. They allow me to hold the finished pages in my hands, turn through the stories, and make sure everything feels exactly right. The colours, the textures, the rhythm of the pages, and the way the Shellfolk seem to peek out from between the lines. It is the moment when a story that once lived only in imagination becomes something real enough to sit on a table beside a cup of tea.

I must admit, I am very excited.

These copies will be carefully reviewed before the book is officially released to those who have already placed their preorders. It is my last chance to listen closely to the book itself and make sure the tide has carried everything exactly where it should be.

Some of the artist proof copies will be signed by both the author and the photographer. A few will quietly find their way into the hands of people who have played a meaningful part in the Shellfolk journey, while others will be kept aside for the future, like rare shells tucked safely into a drawer for another day.

As I wait for these first books to arrive, I find myself thinking about anticipation.

There is a special feeling in waiting for something that matters. The quiet excitement before a parcel is opened. The curiosity about what might be inside. I hope that same gentle anticipation will one day be felt by the readers who discover these stories, and by the people who welcome shells and Shellfolk from the collection into their homes.

For now, I am simply waiting.

Waiting for the postman, the rustle of packaging, and the first moment when I open a box and see the Shellfolk gathered together inside their book for the very first time.

It feels a little like standing at the edge of the tidepool at dawn, knowing something magical has just washed ashore.