First, I want to thank the inimitable and incomparable Laurie “L. A.” Starkey (@LAStarkey) for asking me to join in this blog hop. To sum up about blog hops: An online journal-writer comes up with a theme, writes a blog entry on it, and passes the theme along to others to do the same.
This particular blog hop’s theme is my ten favorite screen characters. Film or television both count. Uh, then I am supposed to request up to ten other bloggers to do the same, which is a bit sticky for me.
I have not yet participated in #PitMad, despite seeing two intense sessions of book pitches pass through my Twitter time line. It’s hard not to favorite some of my Twitter friends’ pitches, but I know it would be cruel to do so. A favorite on a #PitMad book pitch means an agent wants to discuss the submission of my friend’s manuscript. So, I wait silently.
While I have thirty completed manuscripts set in a fictional beach-side town on the California coast ready to be printed out, comb-bound, and sent to an agent or a publisher, I have committed my time and effort to the Cryptid Series. My Mission Point novels are ready to be worked over and polished; I just have no time for them. To pitch them on #PitMad would waste an agent’s time, would waste a publisher’s time, and would possibly take an opportunity from an aspiring author on Twitter–maybe even from one of my friends.
This journal entry today, however, is not about whether I participate or plan to participate in #PitMad. This is about a tweet which smacked me aware that I have apologizing to do.
Sorry this #MondayBlogs round up is a little late; I’m feeling under the weather. I’m sure it’s just a run-of-the-mill winter whatever. No big deal, but things get delivered late sometimes.
Participating in #MondayBlogs is a great way to get a snapshot not only of what happens to all of us but what happens to each of us. Personal journeys and public discussions abound; great thoughts and insights and advice sit behind an unassuming little hash mark.
If you want to learn all about MondayBlogs, then please read this informative web article:
I have shelves filled with books. Many are paperbacks, and many are hardcovers. The paperbacks are double-banked–one tight-packed line of yellowing-paged soft-bound books behind another. Modern shelving units wear out quickly under the weight; some of my books which once had shelf space are still boxed since they bowed then broke the shelving units which housed them.
I have an ebook reader filled with books. The Kobo Aura H20 ebook reader is not my first reader, and it will not be my last. It is my portable personal library, my gateway to some of the most wonderful books available to me with a tap and a swipe. Thinking back, I longed for an ebook reader as a kid. I dragged pounds of bound books from the library as a child. It was a labor of love, yes, but carrying all of the books in one convenient electronic book was a science fiction dream.
My childhood dream was shared with others, for my ebook reader (which is sleeping next to me right now like a faithful pet) is a public library and personal library waiting for me to slide a book from its digital shelves and dive in to an amazing world.
I have a painful confession, one that may get me deservedly mauled by a cryptid: I am a genre snob.
Recently, my husband told me that my new series is paranormal science fiction romance. Had I a fireball handy, I would have singed his darling wavy locks in a fit of pique. I haughtily conceded I perhaps wrote paranormal science fiction and fantasy. He said (in his charmingly calm tone with his genial smile, which got my inner pyrokinetic desperate to flick my inner Bic) that it was not fantasy. It was paranormal; it was science fiction; and it was definitely romance.
He’s right. The Cryptid Series is covered by the paranormal romance genre umbrella, but I am learning this is good–not bad.
A book review is the greatest gift a reader can give to an author, especially to an indie author. A couple of lines and a handful of stars can elate a writer one loves; apathy can end that same writer’s career.
Recently, I had a bit of trouble. Almost two-thirds of my first novel’s customer reviews disappeared from a major book distribution site; the reviews slipped into oblivion with no explanation. I contacted the distributor and got an explanation.
They blamed the reviewers for not following their guidelines; they blamed me for not telling the reviewers, whom I do not know personally, to follow their guidelines. Mind you, these reviews had been perfectly acceptable to them for longer than a month. Suddenly, they were not.
What am I to do? How can I turn this around? I can’t restore my novel’s reviews; they are gone. I can, however, safeguard here my own book review of another independent author’s novel.