Launching Queen’s Road: Surprise, Gratitude, and the Beginning of the Audiobook Journey

When I pressed publish on Queen’s Road, I thought I would feel relief. I imagined a small exhale, perhaps even a quiet sense of closure after months of writing, editing, and doubting myself.

What I did not expect was the swell of feeling that followed.

This story began as something almost light-hearted. In my family, we have always joked about how we would survive a zombie apocalypse. Who would stay calm? Who would overthink? Who would insist on putting the kettle on while the world unravelled? It was one of those conversations that lived comfortably in the background of ordinary life.

But as I began to write, the story shifted. It softened and deepened. The infected became less interesting than the people. The tension moved away from spectacle and settled instead in the spaces between neighbours, in the small moral decisions that feel manageable until they are not.

By the time I finished, Queen’s Road was no longer just an apocalypse story. It had become something far closer to home. A story about community, about discomfort, about the fragile threads that hold ordinary streets together when something extraordinary happens.

And when launch day arrived, I genuinely did not know whether anyone else would see it that way.

I had told myself that if a handful of readers outside my immediate circle found the book, that would be enough. I was not chasing noise or scale. I simply hoped that the right readers might recognise themselves somewhere in its pages.

What surprised me was not just the early sales, though those mattered more than I expected. Sixteen books in the first few days, some paperbacks, some e-books, and most importantly, some bought by people I have never met. For an indie author releasing a debut novel, that felt significant.

It was the messages that moved me most. Readers describe the book as human. As grounded. As real. Readers are noticing that the zombies were present but not central. That the true story lived in the arguments across fences, in improvised plans, in the weight of loss after something irreversible.

There is something humbling about knowing that strangers have chosen to spend time on your fictional street. Something both fragile and quietly affirming.

In the midst of that, the audiobook journey began.

I chose to produce the audiobook through ACX, knowing that if I was going to do this, it needed to feel intentional. I did not want a flat reading of events. I wanted atmosphere. Distinct voices. Space for tension to breathe and humour to land where it should.

The first time I heard the opening lines spoken aloud, I was not prepared for how emotional it would feel. Dialogue I had revised countless times suddenly carried a different weight. Pauses stretched. Silences settled. Characters I had lived with privately for months stepped forward in a new form.

Allowing someone else to interpret your work requires a certain trust. You relinquish control in ways that feel uncomfortable at first. Yet there is also something extraordinary about hearing your story exist independently of you.

The audiobook feels like sitting in the middle of the street at dusk, listening as the light fades and the ordinary world shifts.

If this launch has taught me anything, it is that stories do not need to be loud to resonate. Spectacle is not the only path to tension. Sometimes it is enough to place ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances and let their humanity unfold.

Queen’s Road was never truly about surviving zombies. It was always about surviving together.

The fact that readers are beginning to walk that road with me is something I do not take lightly.

If you feel curious enough to step onto the street, Queen’s Road is available now in paperback and ebook and free to read with Kindle Unlimited. You can find it at https://emmaforresterbooks.com/books.

And if you would like to walk a little further with me — to hear about the audiobook, Book Two, and the quieter details that shape this world — you are warmly invited to join my newsletter above.

This is only the beginning.