Stepping into Cairnshore: Reflections on the Bound by the Salt Book Launch

Last week, Bound by the Salt officially made its way into the world, and for one evening, Cairnshore felt a little less fictional.

The launch event was more than a reading. It became an atmosphere. A threshold. A chance for people to step, briefly and willingly, into the uneasy little coastal village at the heart of the book.

The room was dressed with images, found documents, strange fragments, and carefully placed details that hinted at the wider world of Cairnshore: its rituals, its disappearances, its warnings, its salt-stained history. The soundscapes added another layer entirely, filling the space with an eerie, low-level unease that seemed to creep under the conversations and settle somewhere in the walls. It felt as though the village had opened one door and invited people in.

A huge thank you must go to Isobel, who did a fantastic job facilitating the evening. She guided the conversation beautifully, asking thoughtful questions about the writing process, the importance of place, and the creation of characters. We spoke about how stories begin, how a setting can start to feel alive, and how characters sometimes arrive carrying secrets even the writer does not fully understand at first.

The audience Q&A was one of the real highlights of the night. Questions touched on the development of Bound by the Salt, the influence of landscape and memory, the darkness of the story, and the strange pleasure of writing something designed to unsettle. It was a joy to talk about the book in that way, especially with readers who had already begun to sense that Cairnshore is not the sort of place that lets people leave unchanged.

Another unforgettable part of the evening was Ian Hayles, who appeared as a Tidewarden and mingled with guests throughout the event. His presence added a brilliant touch of theatre and unease. He moved through the room offering warnings, fragments, and half-truths, blurring the line between book launch and folk-horror happening. For those who met him, I hope he was polite. I cannot promise he was harmless.

What mattered most to me was the feeling in the room. There was warmth, support, curiosity, and excitement, but also that wonderful thread of discomfort running underneath it all. The sense that something old had been disturbed. That perhaps the tide had heard us.

Thank you to everyone who came, asked questions, bought a copy, spoke to me afterwards, or simply allowed themselves to be pulled into the world of Bound by the Salt for the evening. Writing can often be a solitary act, but a night like this reminds you that stories do not truly come alive until they are shared.

For one evening, we stepped into Cairnshore. And thankfully, most of us came back.