K.Z. Snow's Blog, page 42

Let me count the ways . . .

I hate WordPress.
There's no excuse for a blog to require hours of special configuring to make it easy to use. Not in this day and age.It seems impossible to rearrange posts once they appear. (Here, for example, I can simply go to "Post Options" and reset dates and/or times. Voila! The post is where I want it.)It is impossible to reply to individual comments, follow individual threads, and expand/collapse threads.It is impossible to format comments without resorting to . . . what? I'm not...

Today

Click on the post title to get to the sales page. (Hey, this book is cheap!) And don't forget the DSP blog launch HERE from 5 to 9 Eastern time.

Come to my party (pretty please).

To celebrate the release of The Prayer Waltz on Wednesday, March 10, I'll be at the Dreamspinner Press blog that evening from 5 to 9 p.m. Eastern time. Maybe there'll be an excerpt. Maybe there'll be a sneak preview of Jude in Chains, coming out next month. Maybe there'll even be a prize! Or maybe I'll just babble incoherently, which is an art I'm working on mastering. ;-)

Oh, shit. Looks like Castanet assumes she'll be there too. Honestly, I can't leave my keyboard unattended for a minute.

You tell me.

My next post will be on the Wild 'n' Woolly World of Editors. I've had quite a few in my day, quite a few, in addition to having been one myself. Therefore, I have many thoughts on the subject, all born of experience. But I just don't have the energy for pulling that together right now.

I don't know what to post about in the interim. If you have any ideas, lob 'em at me . . . as long as they don't involve werekangaroos. If I can't dream up some crap on my own, I can always consult the Opinion...

Here, pimp-pimp-pimp!

Okay, here's the deal. I've got a book coming out in a week from Dreamspinner -- my first for that press. And I really suck at pimping myself. (Hell, I'm still agonizing over whether or not to give my own books at GoodReads five stars!) I'm not a very popular writer; I don't have friends in high places; I even wonder sometimes -- often, actually -- if I should be doing this gig at all.

So here I am with a new-to-me publisher and a fabulous Anne Cain cover . . . and an ever-growing inferiority ...

Questions

These aren't really heavy or depressing ones, just some that have popped into my mind in the past week or so.

Do Chinese men get English words tattooed on their bodies?
Why do so many erotic romance authors have stripper names?
How many times can the word cock be used in a sex scene before you begin to think the author maybe gets a little gooey around the gonads every time s/he types it?
How come Google can't figure out which alerts actually pertain to me?
Do a lot of people have...

Here's to the pudgy, balding guys!

It's been easy to swoon over all the hot young men participating in the Vancouver Olympics. Hell, there've been so many, I've lost track.

But last night, my heart was won over by a chubby, hair-deprived, blue-collarish guy named Steve Holcomb (far left in the photo above) who captained a four-man bobsled team and led them to the USA's first gold medal in that event since 1948. What's more astonishing, Mr. Holcomb nearly lost his vision, completely, to a rare eye disorder until it was...

The Pile-On

I've been noticing a peculiar phenomenon on review sites: the lower a book's rating, the more people flock to read and comment on the review.

For example, I was at Dear Author yesterday. The review of a novel rated "DNF" had already garnered quite a few comments. Recent and more benign posts received roughly from five to ten comments each. I've seen this at Reviews by Jessewave, too, sometimes to a startling degree.
"Authors Behaving Badly" articles invariably draw crowds -- usually with...

See what a good whine can net you?

Tam's astonishingly talented daughter, whom many of us hope will soon start doing book covers, produced this pic of my favorite Olympian, Apolo Anton Ohno. Now she needs to capture the magic that is Johnny Weir.

HINT. ;-)

Joke from Jerry

One of my friends in low places is my BMF, Jerry. (My entire, impressive collection of vinyl LPs has been stored in his basement for about ten years -- an indication of how good a friend he is; I sure as hell wouldn't let just anybody babysit my records.) Jerry routinely sends me really, really stupid jokes. That might be because we've drunk a good deal of beer together.

So, below is some Jerr Joy. You must read every line, pausing a bit between them.

01. This is this cat.

02. This is is cat.