Pamela Schloesser Canepa's Blog, page 68

Watch RWISA Write! #RRBC, Gwen Plano, Author Discovered.

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Join me in welcoming author Gwen Plano to my blog.  Gwen is a fellow member that I have met through Rave Reviews Book Club, a truly supportive community of authors and avid readers!  Today, you’ll get a sample of her writing skills and style, with a link at the end to more information on her writing and published books.

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Love at First Sight

By Gwendolyn M Plano

 

“It doesn’t seem real. It just doesn’t seem real.” Mom muttered as she ran her hand over the curves of dad’s headstone. Sighing deeply, she stared blankly into the horizon.

After a few minutes, she turned and faced me. “I tell myself that it must be real.” She seemed to want my approval. “The stone says we were married 70 years. It must have happened; I must have been married. But, but…why can’t I remember?” She searched my face for answers.

Stooped from the burden of years now elusive and sometimes vacant, mom held my arm while she walked to either side of the monument.

“I saw him in a dream. Did I tell you that?”

“No, mom, I don’t think you did.”

“He was young, like when we first met.”

“Really? Could you tell me about how you met?”

“How?” Mom’s eyes darted to and fro as she struggled to answer. Then, as though the curtains lifted, she responded.

“Yes…yes, I can tell you how we met.”

“Let’s sit here, mom.” I led her to a cement bench under a tall oak tree near dad’s grave. “Now tell me how the two of you met.”

Mom took a deep breath and began. “It was during the war. I remember it now. It was 1944. There were posters in our high school which asked us to sign up to work at the Consolidated Aircraft factory in San Diego. They needed help building B-24 bombers. We called the bombers the Liberators. My sister and I and several of our girlfriends decided we wanted to help our country. Most of the boys in our class were enlisting in the army or navy. We wanted to do our part too.”

“Like Rosie the Riveter?”

“Oh, yes! We all wanted to be Rosie. Your grandparents didn’t much like the idea, but they knew the families of the other girls, and since we’d be living together and would watch out for one another, they finally agreed. After all, it was the patriotic thing to do.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of mom being Rosie and asked where she lived.

“We lived with Aunt Lena on India Street in San Diego. She put in bunk beds for us. At night, we’d wash out our clothes and tie the pieces to the bedsprings so that they could dry overnight.”

“When we arrived at Consolidated, they gave each of us a uniform – blue pants and jacket. And, we had classes for a week or two. Most of us were assigned the job of riveting. It’s hard to believe, but there were about 20,000 women working at the factory. The assembly line was a mile long, and believe it or not, we built about nine bombers a day. Isn’t that amazing?”

“That is amazing, mom.” Pride glowed from mom’s face, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of her as well.

“I was assigned to the wings. I hate heights, but I’d climb on top of those wings and pretend I was sitting on the hood of a car. I didn’t get afraid that way. One day, when I was sitting up there, holding a riveting gun, your dad came by.”

“Hey,” he said. “What’s your name?” I thought I might be in trouble, but he smiled, so I smiled back.

“It’s Lauretta.”

“Well, Lauretta, you’re doing a great job. If you need anything, let me know. My name’s Jim, and I’m the foreman for this area.”

I put my arm around mom’s shoulder. “My goodness, mom, you were on the wing of a bomber when you met dad?”

“Sounds funny, doesn’t it? But, yes, that’s the first time we talked. I didn’t pay much attention to him, but my sister would whisper to me, “There he is again. I think he likes you. He keeps looking this way.”

Mom lowered her eyes and giggled. “Of course, I didn’t believe her.”

After pausing a bit, she continued. “Your dad started walking home with us in the evening. He lived further up the hill from us, so it wasn’t out of his way. Mind you, I was wearing the company uniform and had my hair in a bandana, so I was hardly a beauty.”

“Anyway, one day he asked if I’d like to come up to his place. And, I was stupid and said okay. That’s when I learned about the facts of life. You know, sex.”

“You didn’t know before then, mom?”

“No, but he taught me that night.” Mom giggled and put her hand on her face. “He wanted to get married right then. But, I told him no, he had to talk to my parents. We needed to do it right. Besides, I hardly knew him. There were a lot of shot-gun marriages those days. We all thought the end of the world was coming, and well, young lovers didn’t hold back.”

“So, you and dad became lovers?”

“You know the answer to that, don’t you? When I didn’t have my cycle, I knew I was pregnant. Your dad was elated and didn’t hesitate to talk to your grandparents. Of course, I was ashamed. But, I want you to understand something. You might have been the reason we married, but you were not the reason we stayed together for 70 years.”

“Did you love him, mom?” The question came out before I could filter it.

“I did, I just didn’t know I did. Your dad would tell anyone who would listen, ‘When I saw Lauretta on the wing of a B-24 bomber, I knew that she was the one for me.’ He’d say it all the time, ‘She’s the one for me!’” Mom giggled as she thought about this story. “Your dad always said it was love at first sight. But it wasn’t that way for me.”

“What do you mean by that, mom?”

“Well, love is a strange word, isn’t it? Your dad seemed to know from the first time he saw me that he wanted to marry me. I didn’t feel that way. I think my focus was romance or dreams. And, your dad wasn’t the wooing type.”

“I believe I fell in love with him after you were born. He thought you were the most beautiful baby in the whole world. In fact, I think he was happiest when he was holding you. He’d sing to you and rock you to sleep every night.”

She dropped her head, and tears rolled down her cheeks. My tears fell as well.

“He was a good man, a faithful man. Did I tell you his promise?”

I shook my head, and said, “no.”

“You know that he grew up hungry, right? During the Dust Bowl, his family barely survived. In fact, two of his sisters died.  Well, your dad promised me that his children would never go hungry. He would make sure of it. And, he did. He worked two jobs most of our marriage, and you kids were never hungry.” She paused and looked into my eyes.

“Your dad kept his promises.”

Mom grew silent. Her face turned from animated to expressionless, and I did not know what to think. She whispered something that I had to ask her to repeat. She sighed and looked at me again.

“It just doesn’t seem real.”

**Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA“ WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

Gwen Plano  Author RWISA page

 

Cee’s Black and White Photo Challenge. Saying Goodbye to Summer. (I’ll be Back)!

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This post was perfect for today, since I was at the beach this morning.  Regretfully, I’m back to work next Monday.  This changes things because my son works on the weekends, while I am off on the weekends.  He just started this schedule a month ago.  At any rate, I’m sure we’ll find a way to adjust our quality time.  I had a nice morning walking the beach with him, getting good food at Maple St. Biscuits, and since he’s not much for conversation, playing Words with Friends with him on his phone. I’ve spent the last few years reading his cues and finding new ways to interact. Parenting. No two are alike.

The Black and White Photo Challenge was started at Cee’s Photography.  Visit https://ceenphotography.com/2017/08/03/cees-black-white-photo-challenge-walking-paths-and-trails/

CB&W CHALLENGE POST

Then add a link to your blog in my comment box.
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Watch RWISA Write Showcase-Laura Finkelstein, 8/03 #RRBC

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Good day, everyone!  Allow me to introduce fellow author Laurie Finkelstein for a featured blog post.  Laurie is a fellow member of Rave Reviews Book club and a member of RWISA (Rave Writers International Society of Authors). I know of her from RRBC and I can proudly say I have read her book, Next Therapist Please, a heartfelt, honest portrayal of events in her life and how she found help dealing with them.  The following is titled, “Bulletproof Vest.”  I think you will enjoy her prose.

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Bulletproof Vest

By Laurie Finkelstein

The bulk, padding, and steel plates weigh me down. The protection of a bulletproof vest is necessary. No matter the weather, I wear the cloak. The weight is a burden, but I trek on because wrapped is the only way to navigate my journey. The jacket protects my heart from being blown to crimson shards of death.

A direct hit is avoided for days and nights, lulling me into calm and complacency. “All will work out fine,” I tell myself. The truth tells a story I want to change. All my will and might does not make an impact to stop the bombardment.

Experience and time separates me from tragedy. At any moment, the bullets strike. Inside or out. My house cannot provide security, nor can a million people surrounding me. With nowhere to hide, I am a target. Shelter and safety are nonexistent.

Discharges are held back while luck and grace harbor me. The slugs will come, however, in a piercing barrage without warning, and will pummel me.

Knocked to the ground, I am immobilized and rendered helpless. My breathing is halted. My movements are stopped, and I understand what assaulted me.

The shockwave subsides, and in small increments, I am able to take in air. Incapacitated, I continue to lie until I am rescued by the rational thinking buried under an avalanche of pain, doubt, and fear. My thoughts check my vitals to make sure I am in the here and now. “Stay in the moment,” I tell myself. “I can manage this. I will persevere.”

“Rise,” I command. The mass of the garb constricts my movement, but I stand, analyze what must be done, and begin to act. The warrior in me comes out. Battles will be fought. My impervious attire gets me through another crisis, and its weight comforts me. Without the guise, I am unable to prevail against the onslaughts, which pop out of the dark corners of another day.

Yes, my vest is cumbersome, but without my swathe I will not withstand the painful projectiles. Clips are filled, ready to punch and knock me down, disabling me should I forget for a moment to cloak myself within my protective armor.

My bullets are not made of lead, surrounded by a dense metal. The projectiles do not come from terrorists intent on decimating me. The ammo does not come from a police state or a dictator’s command. A barrel is not involved.

My bullets are made of depression, anxiety, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Composed of irrational thoughts, insipid ideations, and ignorant rationalizations, they are crushing invisible forces. The capacity to shatter my resolve and render me dysfunctional invades me.

My unsociable enemy is treatable, but never disappears. My therapists validate my experiences of being trapped, resentful, guilty, shameful, ill-equipped, grief-stricken, lost, uncertain, and disabled. My growth in therapy helps me accept the challenge with compassion and empathy in my heart.

Throughout my lifetime three stages will haunt me.

Stage one is the onslaught of rounds. The crisis mode. The shock and pain.

Stage two is being slammed down, breath taken away. Sabotaged. Terms and feelings of the emergency are acknowledged.

Stage three is advocacy for myself. Stand. Breathe. Make decisions. Tools in hand to counteract the depression and anxiety and OCD. Utilize appropriate response and care.

Encouraged by others, I enroll in Toastmasters. Time for me to improve my public speaking and thinking on my feet. Professional and compelling ways of expressing my views is a talent I want to possess. Persuasive interactions are in reach. My computer with Google as my guide, I find the Toastmasters website. The rules and guidelines answer many of my questions. Ready to take on the challenge, I enter my credit card information and become a member. A direct thrust knocks me down.

At first, I don’t understand what attacks me. My heartbeat begins speeding up. My gasps for air speed up. My head spins with dizziness. The mighty effects of terror hammer me to the ground. Despair sinks me deeper into the attack.

Stage one. The thought of standing before people enunciating in a clear voice avoiding “ums” and “ahs” strikes with negative force. In a semi-frozen state of fear and regret, I struggle to make sense of my attacker. Groups of Toastmasters are warm, safe environments to learn public speaking and leadership skills. “Warm and safe,” I remind myself. Still my heart beats faster and my breath diminishes by the second. A ghost of recognition appears before me. Panic is familiar.

Stage two. My history tells me to take an extra Klonopin. Scared to death is not an option. Upon reaching my medicine cabinet with weak, wobble-producing legs, I discover my pill case empty. In my next move, I check the bottle. Empty. My heart beats faster and my limbs go numb. Sweat trickles down my forehead. My last attempt before I collapse in a heap of despair, I call my pharmacist. My trembling voice separated from my body explains my attack and lack of pills. “How fast can you fill the prescription?” my quivering voice speaks out. “Is ten minutes okay?” the pharmacy technician asks.

Stage three. My inner voice tells me to be brave. Think of a serene place. My happy place. Take deep soothing breaths. My toolbox is ransacked for more options until I come to grips with the present. The dispensary is too far to hike, so I must drive to pick up my pills. Cranked engine. Foot on pedal. Brake released. My self-talk takes me on a wild ride to the drug store. My trembling legs walk me to the back of the aisles. The friendly face of the tech reassures me. The credit card transaction is signed with a jellylike hand, completing the purchase.

Back in my car, I down the remedy with tepid water from an old bottle sitting in my trash. My panting is steadier, my heart pounding a little less. Within thirty minutes, I am relaxed, able to pursue my day. Ready to reassess my decision to become a Toastmaster. The choice is sound and important.

My bulletproof vest is worn as a badge of honor and survival. Without my garb, I would be a prisoner in my house, hiding in bed. Sick to my stomach. Useless.

The stigma of mental illness must be broken. My vest is worn with pride. I am a survivor. I am the voice of one in every five Americans experiencing the assailant. I am not alone.

*

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA“ WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

 

Laurie Finkelstein RWISA Author Page

 

Friday Fictioneers. Phone Home!

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

I’d have to get stuck here, wouldn’t I?  All this time travel technology and I end up in a place that has no cell phone towers.  Lost.

This looks like a greasy burger joint, not a place I’d frequent, even forty years ago.

Somehow I have to get some help.  How can I summon Rickman?

Aha!  A pay phone.  We used to use these.  Let’s see.  I lift this up,  Ouch!  That’s loud! Beep. Beep.

“The phone at this location is temporarily out of service,”  a curt voice announces through the speaker.

The cell phone sits in my pocket, useless.

*100 words*

Friday Fictioneers opens on Friday and runs until the next Friday, when the next photo prompt is posted.  Please visit rochellewisoff.com for more Friday Fictioneers responses and info. on how you can submit your own Friday Fictioneers Flash fiction!  https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/07/26...

 

Soulful Sunday, #weeklysmile, 7/30

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Here’s a weekly smile based on gratitude:

I’m going to take a Soulful Sunday moment to reflect on the positives: the healing my family has encountered, the second chances, the support with my latest book, the friends I’ve made at work and church, and the long-time friends who still keep in touch. Let’s include my significant other, Kenny, who appreciates my art and respects my time, as he brightens the world with his own creations and remains steadfast through my many dramas. Those who say they “don’t like drama” are just denying their own. We’ve all got it, and it makes us stronger, as long as you’re not creating “the drama.” So I am thankful for that too, as well as the rain at my window and this dog curled at my feet whom I would not have brought home five years ago for fear of allergies and responsibility. My heart is becoming more capable with each possibility I let in. You’ve seen my patron animal here, (the flying squirrel) and you’ll see him again. Every time I’m walking the dog and he sees a squirrel, he chases after it until he’s stuck at the base of a tree, looking up at the squirrel high in its branches, wondering why he can’t just climb up to that high place as well.  I imagine the squirrel felt the same when one of his kin just flew off the branch and glided.  My dog can do something those squirrels can’t: he can mend a hurting heart and be the most loyal friend ever.  Still, when I think of that flying squirrel, I think of the endless possibilities present in this universe, some that we haven’t even yet discovered.  We all can soar, we just need to discover our own traits that will make that possible.  

The natural/animal world is an endless source of smiles for me!

#WeekendCoffeeShare. Summer’s Falling Action…

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Welcome to my Weekend Coffee Share, hosted by Diana at parttimemonsterblog.com.  Here we are, right at the end of the summer’s plot, getting ready to tie loose ends up.  *sigh*  If we were having coffee today on the 29th of July, I’d tell you:

I’m on the fence about summer’s ending.  It’s almost over.  I took two extra work days next week for extra pay.  Yikes!  I did get my haircut today, so I beat the back-to-school rush.  I also plan to have a full beach day with my son next week.  Yay for the beach!  Yay for family time! I’m so proud of him.  He’s doing really well at his job.

I do feel a little relieved about summer’s end though, because that means we’ll get closer to cooler weather!  Yes!  It also means I’ll get into a routine again once work starts.  I sort of had a writing, yoga, walk-the- dog routine all summer, but it’s too easy to get off schedule lately.  I get distracted.  My focus is way off!  Well, maybe this is just my way of relaxing for the summer?  Maybe I just deserve this!  Considering, we had a family crisis in May, my mother broke her arm, and I developed laryngitis that lasted two weeks.  I won’t be too hard on myself, then.  That, and, I realize it’s easier to write when the weather’s cooler and the sun is not so bright in my window.  I’m the sort who will write when the spirit moves me.  And it will!  I still get ideas constantly, and I write them down, one sentence at a time.  I’d promised myself to do cardio in addition to yoga this summer, and that didn’t pan out so well.  It’s just too darn hot!  I need an indoor hammock for reading.  Doesn’t that sound nice?  Oh, I suppose an indoor bike would be great too…

At least I have been blogging regularly.  This Weekend Coffee Share is a great way for me to catch up with fellow writers, bloggers, and readers.  I’ve been sticking to that, and I’ve done a few flash fiction challenges.  This week, I wrote “My Friend” for the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge.  You can see it here:   https://pamelascanepa.wordpress.com/2017/07/27/flash-fiction-for-aspiring-writers-my-friend/   I’ve also changed the presentation on my blog page, so that there is a category cloud.  If you want to see my poetry, you click on the word “poetry.”  I have 22 entries so far.  If you click “reflections,”  you’ll get more personal, biographical type writing about family, life, growing up, all that good stuff.  “Writing” is where the stories and flash fiction are housed, and “Publishing/Indie marketing” is where I discuss book progress, updates, and Visual Promo Graphics or character introductions.  Have a look!  I also gave a mention the other day of a chance to win a Kindle copy of my latest book, Detours in Time.  You can visit and enter the giveaway at http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/disp...

On the subject of my book, Detours in Time, which I can’t stop talking about as if it were a healthy, 9 lb. baby I just recently birthed,  let me take a moment of gratitude!  A fellow author saw a Facebook post and bought my book in paperback on Amazon.  I asked him to e-mail a photo of himself with the book for my Facebook album, and he did!  He even told me he was enjoying the book. Someone has been reading it on Kindle Unlimited this week, and there were two recent reviews.  Thank you to those who have purchased, read, or reviewed the book, and to whoever is currently reading it!  It’s my beautiful baby, and I am a proud mamma! Having said that, if someone gives me a less than 4 or 5 star review, my thought is to thank them for a review.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. “My Friend.”

Photo credit, (c) Louise at The Story Teller’s Abode

We’d been friends for many years.  That year, our families took a vacation together.  The sights were beautiful.

Michael was not sleeping.  He was constantly on the go.  His dad wouldn’t let him go alone for fear he’d not return, so I tried to keep up with him.  Once, his dad accompanied him, and they’d both come back angry.

I was tired.

It was sunrise.  He grasped my hand and raced us toward the water.  “A boat!  We’ll sail in a boat!”

He looked crestfallen as we saw that the tide was low.  Michael sat in the wet sand.  “I’m sorry.  I think I’m out of control.  I never asked what you want to do.”

I smiled.  “I want to sit still with you, and watch the tide come in.”

“Still my friend?”

“Yes, still friends, Michael.”

He put his arm around me and said, “Thank you for looking out for me.”

I sat pondering, knowing that someday I’d need my space, hoping he’d understand.

~The End~

 

165 words

A prompt photo will be provided each Monday pm to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.

2. Linking for this challenge begins on Monday pm and runs to the following Monday pm.

3. Please credit photo to photographer.

4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try and stay within this limit.

5. Please indicate the number of words in your story at the end of your story. (It doesn’t count into the amount of words).

6. This is a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less) and each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. 

You can join the flash fiction fun at flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com

Enter the Giveaway to Win a Free Kindle Copy of Detours in Time!

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Enter to win a free Kindle copy of this summer’s sci-fi release, Detours in Time!  Visit the giveaway site to find out how to enter.  You have until 8/01 to enter!

Enter the giveaway here:  http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d9b75bf71/?

Book blurb:

On a whim, feisty Tabitha takes a trip to the future with her trusted friend Milt, an awkward Science professor. Wonders and curiosities abound.  However, their fun journey soon leads to a challenging maze of danger and difficult decisions.  On an unplanned “detour,” the two set events into action that could save one life yet destroy another.  Can these friends of completely different mindsets agree on a course of action?  Detours in Time starts as a fantastic escape and grows to present many moral dilemmas that could either ruin the best friendship or bring two people closer together.

What reviewers are saying:

“My highest praise to Pamela Canepa, who just wrote this book in such a captivating way that the reader will not want to put it down until the very last page and even then the reader will be dying to reach for more.”

“I found it quite interesting and some of the ideas and characters brilliant and we’ll developed.”

“This is a great book and if you love time travel and romance, you will love this book!”

Preview the book at https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35261459-detours-in-time-1

or    https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0711ZW6XF

If you like to read on Kindle and don’t yet have this book, give it a try!  Have a great week!

Share Your World. #bloggerschallenge

 

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Photo courtesy of Pixabay.

List some of your favorites types of teas.  1.  Detox tea, raspberry flavor.  2.  Thai tea.  They drink milk in their tea; it’s quite pleasant.  3.  Vanilla chai tea.

If you had to describe your day as a traffic sign, what would it be?  See the photo above.  I am on summer break, so I have time to do things I want to do.  The problem is prioritizing which I will do first.  I am starting to lack focus.  I am reading a good detective mystery book and I am 80% in.  I’ll likely finish it today, but I am breaking a lot to check Amazon KDP to see how my book is selling on Kindle Countdown.  I’ve also decided I’ll work on that conflict scene for my WIP, then I saw this blog challenge and felt it would be a good release.  I also want to, and think I will set up an Amazon ad.  Later. 

#WeekendCoffeeShare: Ice, Please.

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Welcome to the Weekend Coffee Share, hosted by Diana at partimemonsterblog.com.  If we were having coffee today, on July 23rd, I’d tell you that I have iced mocha or regular coffee, with creamer and two ice cubes in mine, how about you?  I’d also tell you–

My son has been working his job regularly, and this is a good thing.  It gives him a sense of purpose, even though it may not seem like a “career” job, but he is getting a good number of hours, despite coming home early when it storms.  It is an outdoor job, and he loves that sort of thing.  I worry about him less when he works, since his mind is occupied and he loves physical work.  Wednesday he was off, and we took a nice little walk at the beach, stopping at a quaint coffee shop afterward.  I posted a few photos of things seen on our walk Thursday in a post titled, “Echoes of My Neighborhood.”

On the author front, I am trying out Hootsuite for my social media.  There was one day I couldn’t post because it had a glitch.  But I have set up some posts to start this Weds.  We’ll see how it runs!  I won’t use it for WordPress, though, because I believe that my voice is more authentic if I write, edit when I can, and post when I am ready.  Yes, sometimes that means posting in the moment.  I also have been running a Kindle Countdown offer for my latest sci-fi book, Detours in Time, which will be just $1.99 in Kindle format until 7/25, with a comparable savings in the UK.  So far, I can say I’ve sold more books than I would have otherwise.  That’s the goal!  Feel free to check out the preview of my book or to get your own copy at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0711ZW6XF   I will not reduce this book any lower or put it on free promo. for a while, because I have spent a good amount of money on editing, promo., cover, and marketing materials.  A fellow author, Carol James Marshall, wrote a blog post on that, titled “Art is Not Free.”  She’s right.  Seriously.  Imagine if pro- athletes spent the first year of their career earning less money than they spent to get into the game.  In fact, a Time.com article states rookies get a “league minimum base salary of $450,000.” * Unreal, right?  Our priorities are messed up, when you also consider beginning teachers’ or police officers’ salaries.  Ugh.  Okay, rant over.  Reviews for my book are coming in at an overall average of 4 stars for my first 8 reviews.  That’s even good for a batting average, right?

[image error]  Detours in Time, a sci-fi, time-travel tale.

On that subject of art not being free, I thought of my own reading and buying habits.  If something is advertised for free, yes, I’m likely to load it on my Kindle.  Heck, I may see two different free books and load them.  Will I hurry to read them? No, not unless someone else has recommended.  Does anyone value something that is being given away?  I’m also less likely to give a review on a free book.  I also might likely speed through it.  So, I am trying to spread the news and make it seen, so that buyers are more likely to purchase it and value it.  This also means I need to learn to use AMS Amazon ads, which is a whole other blog post.