Renee Miller's Blog, page 12

Bad Blogger

I’m a terrible blogger. I’m not regular, or consistent, and sometimes I hate it. I mean, I should love it, because it’s writing. It’s writing whatever the hell I want, whenever the hell I feel like it. But to be good at it, I should have a system. I should have a schedule. With organization, you guys can know when I’ll be posting and what I might be posting about. I don’t even know why you guys keep coming back. Apparently, you’re just awesome.

The experts say we should be professional, and professionals are organized. I can’t organize a damn thing. You should see my bathroom.

I’ve really tried to be organized. I’ve tried to set up a schedule, but then I’m all “Ugh, I have to blog about this or that now.” I hate schedules. I prefer writing when the inspiration hits me, even when it’s not fiction. I hate coming up with ideas, because I’m never sure what will be interesting or entertaining. Maybe I find the subject fascinating, but I imagine you guys sitting there like:

Oh, I have ideas. I have lots of ideas. I list them. Stare at them. Delete them. List them again. And then I panic. Sure, I can write stories. I know I can write well enough to engage my readers most of the time, but I’m a writer, so it doesn’t matter. Writers are masochistic, self-doubting yet slightly narcissistic drama queens. We love writing shit, but when it’s out there, book or blog post, we’re terrified someone will hate it. Doesn’t matter if it’s one person out of one hundred people doing the hating. That one person keeps us up at night. Blogging is kind of like another way to be rejected. Do I really need another way to tell myself I’m not good enough?

 

Deep breath.

I don’t put this much thought into every blog post. I don’t analyze, agonize or freak the fuck out every time I write something. It’s just when I realize it’s been an entire month without a blog post, and I’m trying to decide what to do about it that I panic a little. And when you have to blog regularly, as we really should because marketing and shit, there comes a point where ideas are torture. I fucking hate the word “idea” today. Yesterday, it was a shiny concept I loved with all my heart. It was exciting and full of potential. I wanted to love it and squeeze it and never let it go. Today, it’s a poisonous little viper waiting to bite me in the ass.

Sigh. But as a writer, I’m supposed to have tons of ideas, right? I think it’s the choosing part that paralyzes me. I think, “Oh, I have to write a blog post today,” and my brain goes:

Because that means coming up with a topic that is worthy of an author blog and one that is not something I’ve done before. Authors aren’t supposed to blog about our personal lives, and I think I keep that to a minimum. We’re not supposed to blog about writing all the time either, because most readers don’t give a shit about our “process.” Hell, I don’t either. When I see an author’s blog includes how they do this or that while writing, I’m all,

And I can’t rant all the time. I know I rant far more than I should. I’m working on it. For the record, this is not a rant. Not. A. Rant.

This is just explaining why sometimes I’m amusing and all that, and sometimes I’m silent. I published four books in two months, because I’m insane.

But I’m not dance naked in butterfly wings crazy. There’s that. I have two more books almost ready to go, and I’m working on three rough drafts simultaneously, because I can’t slow my brain down long enough to work on just one. I should. I know this. But I can’t. Anyway, on top of this I have work. The day job. The day job is exhausting, but I still enjoy it, because material. And then I caught a cold or a flu… I’m not sure what it is, but it’s nasty and has lasted way too long.

Now I’m whining. Let’s stop that. My point is I was struggling to stay afloat, so I put off the blogging. I put off the Internetting. I just put off everything and binge-watched six seasons of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. Holy shit, that show just sucks the feelings right out of you.

But I said to myself a few days ago, “Self, you need suck it up. Stop being a manic psycho and get writing.” So, here I am, writing about hating blogging, when I don’t actually hate it, because the other ideas didn’t seem right.

Are you dizzy yet? Me too. Let’s call it a day. I just wanted to explain to you guys why sometimes it seems like a really long time between blog posts. And I’ve done that. Sort of. 

 

Being Offended Is the New Cool

Let’s talk about words. All the words. Swear words, slang, regular words that the masses have decided we’re not allowed to use anymore, and their replacements. All the fucking words, man. I love them. Even the tricky ones like cunt, whore, and yes, even retard. While some of these words bother me for personal reasons, I can’t hate any of them, because each one is full of history, emotion and POWER. I’m a writer. I will use whatever word gives what I’m writing the proper emotion, and this means using the words I choose not to use in real life.

Why shouldn’t this offend you? You have the right to feel how you want to feel, but think twice before publicly shaming someone for offending you. When I use a word you find offensive, and you scold me or worse for using it, you are giving ME your power. You’re giving the word you hate power. The only person not getting any power is you.

I like profanity, as you all know, and I use it frequently. People are offended by this sometimes. I don’t really give a fuck, but sometimes their offense at my language offends me. I want to tell them to fuck off. Get off their stupid pedestal, and join the real world. Sometimes I do tell them that. Usually I don’t, because fuck them. Why can’t I love all the words, including the nasty, dirty, messy ones? It’s not just words, though. In the book world, even ideas, thoughts, themes, etc. offend people. One of my besties, Katrina Monroe, has a new book out. (shameless promotion in 3…2…1…) Sacrificial Lamb Cake is a brilliant, witty, fun read that I will always love. Yes, it’s blasphemous, but that much is clear if you read the damn cover blurb. Yet, she gets negative reviews because someone either didn’t read the blurb, or did and decided to read it anyway, and their wittle feelings were hurt.

Why would you, someone claiming to be a Christian, read a book that STATES the messiah is a lesbian RIGHT ON THE COVER? Is it not pretty likely you’re going to hate this book? It’s not just her either. Allison M. Dickson, an extremely talented author of deliciously disgusting horror novels, has received a slew of negative reviews because of the nasty shit her characters think and do. It’s horror! What do you expect? I’ve had folks refuse to rate books, or knock stars from their ratings, because they don’t like the “rough language.” It’s offensive. Oh, muffin.

This post is potentially offensive to anyone who is easily offended, so if you’re one of those people, stop reading. Or keep reading if you need your “I’m a self-righteous douchebag” fix.

Personally, I find it astonishing that we are all still offended by what is essentially a bunch of letters. I am always shocked when someone gets bent out of shape over holiday greetings, celebrations, phrases, etc. Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms out there! Now I’ve pissed off anyone who hasn’t had a child, can’t have a child, has lost a child, or doesn’t want a child at all, as well as the ones who hate their mothers, or were abandoned by their moms, or lost their moms. Shit, it’s all so exhausting.

Merry Christmas pisses off people who don’t celebrate Christmas, but Happy Holidays pisses off the Christians. And for the love of God, don’t you ever use “Xmas”, you lazy, insensitive motherfucker. Happy Chocolate Bunny Day pisses off the folks who know Easter isn’t about candy and bunnies. Well, it is in my house, because I’m not a Christian. So, um, yeah. You can wish me a happy Easter or a Merry Christmas. I’ll say thanks, even if I’m not religious, because I appreciate that the greeting came from a good place. You’re not trying to oppress me or convert me, or whatever… are you? Oh, you crafty little bitch.

But this is just the tip of the iceberg. Let’s take a little peek at a few of the most common words, phrases, etc. we’re not allowed to say online anymore, because they’re offensive to someone or trigger some traumatic event. These things offend readers too, so pay attention authors.

Religious holiday greetings. Just don’t wish anyone anything. It’s the only way you’ll never offend anyone.
Anything relating to disabilities (mental or physical), including, but not limited to retard, spaz, nutter, schizoid. Don’t joke about being crazy, because some people are.
Anything relating to whatever race/ethnicity you are NOT. Mostly white folks aren’t allowed to utter anything remotely offensive in this area. No. Not even if you’re offended by people of other races or ethnicities lumping all white folks into a heap of what they refer to as privileged, racist know-nothings bent on keeping every other culture in the minority. Not even then. Doesn’t matter if you’re not at all like that. Shut up.
Blasphemy, which includes the words, but is not limited to Jesus, Christ, a combination of the former, God, Jesus-Mary-and-Joseph, and also avoid any ideology or phrases that question anything regarding these religious figures.
Cunt, twat, pussy or anything relating to female genitalia. These are highly offensive to women, particularly pussy and cunt (mostly to women who are pussies, but whatever). The good news is as far as I can see, in most circles; you can use the shit out of penis-related slang. It’s okay. The boys don’t seem to mind. Call that asshole a cocksucker, dickhead, knob, or whatever floats your pissed off boat.
Bastard. Because some of us don’t come from married parents, you insensitive fuck.
Whore, slut, etc. Because… I don’t know. I use these all the time.
Fuck. Because fuck is aggressive and by fucking God, we don’t want to be perceived as aggressive.
Any words relating to sexual orientation unless said words are related to YOUR sexual orientation. If you’re not queer, you can’t say queer.
The truth. No one wants to know the truth.
Liars. No one likes a liar.

This isn’t even a complete list of what offends people in 2015, because you jerks keep adding shit every damn day. I can’t keep up. And I should add that some of the above bothers me too, but I don’t judge anyone who uses any of it, because who the fuck cares? They have the right to say what they want to say, and I have the right to not like it. I don’t have to be a drama queen about it, and I don’t think I’m helping anyone by telling them their words hurt me.

I’m not entirely sure why being offended is basically a fad, but I’m thinking we have become addicted to that wonderful self-righteous glow that being offended leaves behind.

I mean, how awesome does it feel to knock some cocky prick down a peg or three, because he uses a word or phrase that causes us discomfort or pain? I don’t care the context he used it in, or even if it was meant to be offensive or not, I am going to rip that fucker a new one. Yeah, that shit feels good.

But let’s think about this: When you CHOOSE to be offended by what someone writes online or in a book, or even in real life, (and make no mistake, it’s a choice) you also CHOOSE to be a victim.

Hmm. Not so cool now, eh?

Yes, yes, I know that some words are emotional triggers for people. But if we have to stop using words because it brings back an emotional trauma for this person or that, then I quit humaning. It’s over. I am sorry if you have shit in your past that hurts. I’m sorry if it more than hurts. It’s awful that you’ve had to endure any heartache or trauma. It sucks, but when you try to make other people change to alleviate your pain, instead of finding a way to prevent that pain from consuming you, you’re choosing to stay in the role of victim and you’re giving power to the words you’re trying to make everyone else stop using. The more power a word has, the less likely it’ll go away.

And I know that some people online use certain words in a negative manner. They intentionally try to hurt you, but hey, you don’t have to be their victim. Don’t give power to their words by being offended. People are going to say what they want. They’re going to like what they like. How does their preferences, be it words or actions, affect you? In most situations, it doesn’t affect you at all, unless you want it to.

If you don’t like violence, don’t read horror, crime, suspense, or any genre that generally includes violence.

Don’t like swear words? Don’t use them. If you can’t handle other people using them, you should probably leave the Internet. Bye.

If you don’t like the idea of Satan being a good guy, or Mary being a crack whore, or the savior of mankind being gay, then don’t read books that explore those themes.

I see some of you are having trouble getting what I’m saying here. It’s okay, I know I’m rambly. I’ll just make it real simple:

Stop being a pussy. It’s not cool.

Tagged: 2015, Internet, offensive, profanity, sensitive, writing

New Books, Freebies, and Being Awake Way Too Early

Good morning, sunshine! It’s spring, FINALLY, and my internal clock is so excited about that fact, it’s decided I should be up at dawn EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY. It’s wonderful.

Anyway, since I’m up before the sane people, even on my days off, I’ve had tons of time to do things. Things like publishing books and thinking up ways to share those books with you. Yesterday I re-released Lucky, along with the second book in the For the Love of Gods series, Lascivious. Last month, I published Sex, Peanuts, Fangs and Fur: A Practical Guide for Invading Canada and Sweet Revenge. I also have a short piece of sexy horror in Terrible Cherubs, the lastest anthology from DeadPixel Publications. I promise, there will be no more books for a while, because I’m exhausted.

So, for the entire weekend, I’m giving away Ebooks by myself and other DeadPixel Publications authors. Go on over to my Facebook page or to my Twitter and share the links to any books in the DPP catalogue you’d love to get your grubby little hands on. Tag me in the post and I’ll add your name to the list. Eventually, I’ll pick a few of you to receive free digital copies of said books. So, what’s going to be up for grabs?

These, for starters:

If none of these catches your fancy, share/tweet the link to any DeadPixel title, and you could win it.

PS: If you click on the images, you can find out more about each.

Ah, now to get ready for the day job. Don’t forget to tag me if you share so I know you’ve done so.

Tagged: book launch, DeadPixel Publications, freebies, great reads, publishing

How to Write a Bestseller

I feel I should begin this blog post with a disclaimer: I haven’t written a bestselling novel, so my “expertise” in this matter is questionable at best. However, I pay attention to other bloggers, and more “believable” experts, as well as what seems to top the bestsellers’ list most of the time and I think I’ve figured out how to get myself there. So, follow my ten easy steps to becoming a bestselling author, or don’t. Your odds are probably the same either way.

Anyway, here we go.

Step 1

Decide to write a novel. Duh. It’d help immensely if you have a computer. You can do it the old-fashioned way and use pen and paper or a typewriter, but then you’d be a fucking moron, because you’d just have to type all that shit into a computer in the end anyway. It’s 2015 shithead, get with the program.

But hey, if you want to double your work, then go for it. No judgments here. Well, not many.

Step 2

Write said novel. I know this seems rather vague, but I don’t feel like getting into the how to write a novel thing. I mean, seriously, just write the damn thing and worry about the editing later. You probably don’t suck, and even if you do, suckage won’t exclude you from bestseller status. So just write it. Go on.

Step 3 (Ideally, you should do this during step 2)

Become a social media whore.

It’s a fun kind of whore. Not at all shameful and the sex is optional. Really, all you have to do is blog, tweet, Facebook all the trials and shit you encounter while writing your novel. Like, tell people you have writer’s block when you feel like a lazy fuck and want to watch Netflix or go out and get shitfaced, because both of those things are far more amusing than writing a novel. To be honest, mowing the lawn is sometimes more fun than writing a novel. Better to know this in advance. Then, after a while, get back on the writing horse and tweet about how you’ve buckled down and started writing again. I don’t care if you actually do write. Just tell people this. Seriously, everyone will be proud of you, because of your dedication. But don’t say you were partying or Netflixing during this time. Let them think you just sat there staring at the computer screen while thinking of ways to kill yourself. Yeah, they love that stuff.

Also, it’d help to get on some kind of discussion forum. Once you’re on, take over that motherfucker like you own it. Get yourself some minions. Yes. Minions. Love those.

Step 4

Get a gimmick. Readers love gimmicks, because they’re cool. For example, write fan fiction of a highly successful book or celebrity, or choose a plot never written before. The former is obviously the easiest gimmick to use. The latter, well, everyone’s got the most unique idea out there, because the authors of said ideas tell us this constantly, so you’ll have to be more unique than those guys. You know what? Just go with fan fiction. It’s too much work the other way. Or I guess you could just write any old idea and call it original and fresh. I mean, reading is subjective, so at least one person is sure to agree with you.

Step 5

Edit. While you edit, be real nice to other authors. Read their shit. Review. Repeat. Also, tweet about editing. Cry a little. People like tortured artists. You can Youtube that shit for more effect. No, it’s not pathetic.

Okay, it’s a little pathetic. But who gives a shit, right? You’re building your brand, and if you want to be taken seriously, you’ve gotta show you’ve got passion or something.

Step 6

Get yourself a catchy title.

Hey, I’m not going to do it for you. Lazy fucker. Think for yourself!

I hear numbers and colors are the best way to go, but there are other options. Don’t worry if it matches the actual story. As long as it’s catchy, that’s all that matters. Oh! Just make up words! No one will know what it means, but they’ll think you’re fancy.

Step 7

If you failed to think up a catchy title, you’re a loser.

Just kidding. If you can’t think up something wondrous or at least funny, then get yourself a kickass cover. Go outside the box for this. Now, simple covers with one item, like an apple, a tie or a picture of Snookie seem to be most popular, but you’ll have more success if you go with something fresh and new, like a brick wall, or an artsy image no one can quite make out or understand. Like this:

That shit is cool. Interpretive covers will be all the rage soon. You’ll see. Don’t you want to be one of the first to get on the bandwagon? Then you can stare down your nose at the latecomers.

Step 8

Submit it somewhere if that’s your thing. You’ll probably get rejected. You might not, but you probably will, so if you query agents, you MUST bitch about it on Twitter. Make some scathing observations, or just mention how agents obviously have no clue what good fiction is. Once done this step, you can move on to step 9. You don’t even have to do this step if you don’t want to. You can just bitch about agents without querying. It’s okay, they’re used to it. I think they secretly like it. But if you do this, you must vow to NEVER go the traditional route. If they think you’ll be a tough nut to crack, they’ll offer bigger advances when they do discover you.

Step 9

Publish that son of a bitch. Yeah. Here it comes. Bestseller for sure.

Step 10

Wait.

Wait some more.

Have some goddamn patience, okay? It’s going to happen, but it’s more like a marathon, not a fucking sprint.

If you wait long enough, you’ll see your name on that list.

Or you won’t.

Hey, I said I wasn’t an expert.

I’m still waiting too. It’s so gonna happen, though. I can feel it…

What We Must Do

We all have the same amount of time each day of the workweek (Monday to Friday for most of us) to do what we must do. 24 hours. During that time, we have to sleep, of course. For most of us, sleep requires at least 6 hours, leaving us with 18 hours to do what we must do.

Day job? Sigh. Yes.

There’s another 8 hours or so (give or take) scratched off the old clock, leaving us with 10 hours to do what we must do. If you’re like me and have kids, you might have to get them up, dressed, fed and off to school. That takes at least 2 more hours from your day, leaving you just 8 hours to do what you must do. Then there’s cleaning, errands, dog walking, and all the fun stuff that being a grownup involves. Let’s take off another 3 hours for that. What are we left with? Just 5 hours. Hmm. Oh, let’s not forget eating, socializing so folks think we’re normal, and showers. What’s that? 2 more hours? Yeah, let’s go with 2. So, we have 3 hours left out of our Monday to Friday to do what we must. Just 3 measly hours.

If you’re an author who has published a book, you also have to allow some time for marketing on the Internet. And we all know what a dark abyss that can be. Let’s say you’re a good girl and give it 30 minutes at most, with another 30 minutes for email answering and whatnot. Now you’re left with 2 hours to do what you must do.

Even if I’ve underestimated some of the time you need for these grownup tasks, it’s likely most of you still have at least 30 minutes to an hour unaccounted for, and that’s plenty of time to do what you must do.

And what is it that you must do?

Write, of course.

Even with a busy day, full of all the things normal people do, we still have 1 to 2 hours of free time every day where we could be writing. I say “could be,” because sometimes shit happens and we choose to use the time differently. Meh, we deserve some Netflixing and shopping therapy occasionally.

I’ve been terrible lately, bitching about not having any time to write, but the reality is I’m just letting myself get bogged down by procrastination and bullshit. I haven’t even factored in Saturday and Sunday, which, at least every other week, could be a full 8 hours of solid writing time.

My point?

Let’s not complain about time, when all we have to do is take it by sitting our ass in the damn chair. No, don’t make it complicated, you Negative Nancy. Just sit. Write. 

Tagged: fiction, life, time, writing

No More Ball Sucking: Publishing News and Updates

I’ve been neglecting this place. I’d say I was sorry, but I’ve got too many good things in the works.

My last post was depressing, because everything sucked giant hairy balls in January and February, but this post is all about the good shit. First, I’ve been writing a weekly column for Underground Book Reviews called “Miller Time,” which has eaten into my blogging time. I promise, I’ll carve out a little slot for the Edge and get back to rambling nonsense for anyone who likes that stuff. And second…

I’ve got two books ready to publish this month. Sex, Peanuts, Fangs, and Fur: A Practical Guide for Invading Canada is just moments away from publication. Literally. Well, it could be longer. I just have to bite the bullet and click “publish.” I’ll announce when I’ll do the launch party and all that fun stuff as soon as I figure it out myself. The second book, Sweet Revenge, is a collection of short stories I cobbled together for your entertainment. It will be ready for publication within a week or so.

And in April, watch for my gods series to return. I’ll re-release Lucky myself (with a brand spanking new cover), and with it I’ll release the second book, Lascivious. The third book, Nefarious, is scheduled for early summer.

Also, I’m working with my fellow DeadPixel Publications authors to publish an anthology sometime in the near future. This one is good. Really good.

Yes, I’m a little excited.

For now, I leave you with a little bit of promotional shit for SPFF and Sweet Revenge.

A Practical Guide for Invading Canada:

Step One: Have a Plan

President Robert Armstrong needs an unstoppable army so he can take over the world. He obtains three monstrous viruses and sets his plan in motion.

Step Two: Testing, 1, 2, 3…

Patients Zero, otherwise known as Chris, Steve and Rafe, sign up for experimental treatments they believe will cure their afflictions. Instead, the President turns them into monsters. But the lab is not the big wide world and the President must know if the soldiers truly are unstoppable. What better place to test Armageddon than Canada?

Step Three: Infect

As armed forces go, a gentle, sleepy zombie, a werewolf with an out of control libido, and a vampire with a peanut allergy are not that impressive. Until they combine their viruses and the monsterpidemy blossoms and spreads.

Step Four…

 

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?  — William Shakespeare

As humans, we’re vulnerable to wounds that penetrate beneath the flesh and beyond the possibility of forgiveness. These injuries aren’t simply forgotten because we decide to be virtuous and take the high road. They fester and bleed. They blossom and thrive. And eventually, a soul is left with one option: Revenge.

Sweet Revenge contains sixteen short tales, which illustrate that while forgiveness can be a gift, vengeance is sometimes a far more satisfying reward.

And that’s why I’ve been neglecting all of you. From now on, I’ll try to numb your brains with my musings at least once a week. Stay tuned. *winky face*

Tagged: fangs, fiction, fur, New Year, news, peanuts, publishing, sex

So Far, 2015 Sucks Balls

It’s been a while since I posted here on The Edge. I apologize. I was busy circling the poor me drain and wallowing in misery and self-doubt. But it’s okay. I’m over it now. Well, mostly. I’ll explain.

I’m not an organized person. I don’t make plans too far ahead, because if they change, I get loopy, and if you walked into my house, you’d probably think, “Well, this is a tad chaotic.” However, there is a very definite order to everything I do. Others might not see it, but it’s there. I don’t like change or unpredictability. They make me itchy, and when things suddenly veer off the course I’ve set for them in my head, I fly off the rails a little bit.

This is why I don’t like unannounced visitors. Those always put a wrench into my day, even when I’m doing nothing. I don’t make major decisions without a lot of hand-wringing. I don’t change jobs or move to a new place without first pausing to think about all of my options. Funny I’d choose a career path that forces me to deal with a roller coaster of changes and unpredictable moments, eh? Perhaps I’m also a masochist.

When I went into publishing, my first goal was to do it “right.” Find an agent or a small publisher and be professional about the whole deal. I plugged away at this for about five years before I even considered publishing myself. When I did consider it, I did so for about a year before taking the plunge.

Here’s something I don’t think I’ve ever said: I did not want to be an Indie author.

I know, this is shocking to some of you, but it’s the truth. I wanted to be taken seriously, and in my eyes, that meant the respectability of a publisher had to stand behind my books.

Of course, I know that’s not true now. Okay, so it does help, but a publisher is not the be-all and end-all of a writing career. You can do this shit alone, and you can be extremely successful at it. My books, while not making me millions (or even thousands) or climbing up the bestseller lists, have done well, and still do reasonably well.

As I published my first couple of books, I still queried agents and publishers, because I decided hybrid was the ideal type of author to be. You get the boost of a publisher’s loyal readers to help push your Indie titles along, and you get the freedom of Indie publishing to release whatever the hell you want. I got a few nibbles from traditional publishers, but the contracts weren’t right. Correction: they weren’t anywhere near fair. So I turned them down. I can’t even tell you how hard it is for an author to turn a contract down. Even if it sucks, a small part of you whispers, “But what if you never get a second chance?” You have to smother that little bastard or you’ll go crazy.

Anyway, then, I got the “big” bite. I was elated when the first book in my gods series was signed by a small, but respected press. I was over the moon when book two and book three were signed late last year.

I had the next couple of years mapped out in terms of my books and publishing. It was going to be awesome. 2015 was going to be the year of great things for me.

Well, it turns out, not so many great things have happened so far.

I’m not sure if I’m “allowed” to share this, but the letter I received didn’t say I couldn’t, so here we are. The publisher that signed my books is closing down. My books’ rights will revert back to me on March 31st and it will be like the publisher never existed. To say I feel blindsided by this development would be an understatement, but if I’m honest, I’ve wondered several times in the past few months if something was up. I won’t get into the details, but tiny clues had my hackles rising before Lucky’s release. Now, I see why.

Anyway, when I got the email, at first I was all,

And then I quickly shifted into,

So where do I go from here? I’ll admit, there were tears. Sad, angry, frustrated, even hopeless tears. I’m a bit of a drama queen, so there was also a little, “Why can’t I catch a fucking break?” and “I quit. I’m done.” Maybe a little,

I’m sure there will be more later, but for right now, I’ve stood up, dusted myself off, and (with the help of certain friends) I will focus on bigger and better. The reality is I have caught a few breaks. I have been lucky. I’ve met fantastic people, I have supportive and loyal readers and friends, and my books are selling, even if I have taken a couple of steps back with this publisher fiasco.

And you know what? Self-publishing has never let me down. So there’s that.

There is never any certainty in publishing. Hell, there’s never certainty anywhere. Your plans will always change, and shit’s always going to go bad at some point. You will work and work without reward, and sometimes, even when you do achieve success, something will come along to rip that shiny feeling of achievement right out of you. I sound pessimistic, but I’m not. This is just reality. The secret to being happy instead of cutting your wrists is to move forward. Say “Fuck it” and find another way, a different goal, a new focus.

2015 can still be the year of great things. I will re-release Lucky myself, and I will follow soon after with the second, third and fourth books. However, before that, I’ll be publishing Sex, Peanuts, Fangs and Fur: A Practical Guide for Invading Canada (the plan is to publish in March). Watch for it. This one’s a fun ride.

Tagged: disappointment, goals, publishing, self-publishing, writing

Dangling on the Edge in 2014: Here’s Looking at You and Your Messed Up Minds

I don’t do the New Year’s resolution shit, because I’m weak and never stick to anything I resolve to do. Really, such things are like setting ourselves up for failure anyway. When we fail, we hate our shitty lives, and then it’s depressing and we sink into a pit of self-loathing. Who wants that? Not this girl.

Instead of a post filled with my goals for 2015 (I really just want this year to NOT suck, so it’d be a pretty short post), I decided to review this blog and its readers. As I was looking over the stats and whatnot, my eye drifted to “search terms” which are the words, phrases, etc. folks punch into Google to find your blog or website. I think search terms say a lot about your blog readers. There were a few that searched my name, my books, or standard writing and book related things, and that’s good. These are terms that actually relate to my blog’s theme. However, a large number of search terms were… more interesting than that.

Let’s look at some of the top search terms for 2014:

Porn

“Porn” is a popular search term for folks winding up here on The Edge. I mean, very popular. You guys used things like:

monster porn
doing porn for quick cash
some quick porn
want some porn
quick cash porn

And of course, the best one of all: renay miller porn anal cameltoe

Wow, buddy. Whoever you are, you are very specific about what you’re looking for…

Dangling genitals

Dangling is obviously going to be a referring search term, but guys, seriously? Dangling clits and dangling cocks? Come on now. There is none of that here.

… okay, maybe a little.

Rene Miller Fucking

If I’m fucking, I’m not sharing it with you guys. Let’s be clear on that. I’m sure you were looking for a different Renee, one who spells her name with one “e”. I hear she’s a skank. What? Stop looking at me like that. She shares her fucking on the Internet. If that doesn’t scream skank, I don’t know what does.

Reliable validated proven ancestry of charles martel

Whoever was looking for Mr. Martel’s ancestry was so disappointed.

Girl gets fuckit in asshole hardcan she loves it

I’m sorry—what?

Cowboy “never wore underwear”

Cowboys are dirty boys.

Move and hurts a lot

I doubt this reader got what he was looking for. My advice is to stop moving it if it hurts.

Women are dicks

Hot guys who look like greek gods

I wish such things were here on my blog.

Maybe you’ll see more gods in 2015.

Don’t stir the Christmas shit pot

Well… there’s an idea for a blog post, eh?

Hearing Elvis’ ghost at amusement fairgrounds

Someone’s been drinking the punch…

So, after viewing the search terms, I obviously wondered where you all went once you got here.

Top Ten Pages and Posts:

Home page
Creating Character: Love Interests
Writers and Research: The Truth
Slutty? Yeah, I am.
Want Some Quick Cash? Monster Porn May be the Answer
Getting Screwed and Other Whiny-Ass Complaints We Need to Shut Up About
About
A Few of the Things I’ve Learned from the Internet
I’m an Impostor, Are You?
On the Ghost of Elvis and His Summer Home in Tweed

Honorable Mentions:

Cocks and Clits: Porn vs. Erotica (the porn thing might be my fault)
Cookies and Shit, Because Katrina Monroe is a Dick, and Merry Christmas
Paranormal
Three Secrets to Publishing Success
Obligatory Motivational Post (You only get one or two of these a year, folks)

Okay, so maybe some of my titles are misleading and confusing to Google. Sorry to anyone who didn’t find what they were looking for.

Now, just for shits and giggles, let’s look at the posts that got the most shares in 2014:

1.      Self-Publishing: What I’ve Learned So Far



2.      It’s Almost Christmas, People Are Dicks, But You Can Do This



3.      The Muse: Writer’s Friend or Mythological Creature?



4.      Jack’s Official Launch & Other Bits



5.      Writers Are Weird, and We Like Butterflies

Four out of five are about writing, so I’d say this blog is a success. Thank you very much.

I’m going to do this dedicated author email thing Robert Brumm talked about recently, so instead of boring you with my blog stats, maybe I’ll have some interesting reader emails to discuss later. Or I’ll have nothing. We’ll see.

Anyway, I had a great 2014 for the most part, blog nonsense aside. I know it’s been a cruel prick to some of you, though, so here’s hoping you all make 2015 your bitch.

Oh, and also:

Tagged: blogging, humor, New Year, review

2014 in Review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog. Apparently you guys like cookies and love. ;)

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Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,200 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 37 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Getting Screwed and Other Whiny-Ass Complaints We Need to Shut Up About

So, there’s an epidemic happening on the Interwebs. Maybe it’s been here the whole time and I didn’t see it, or maybe it’s new. I don’t know. What I do know, is that a lot of Indie authors are suffering from it. What is it? I’m not sure what it’s called, but it’s clear life isn’t fair for Indie authors, and it just keeps getting worse. Everywhere, all over Cyberspace, self-published authors are reporting massive fuckings. Fuckings so horrific, we can barely write anymore. It’s like the whole world has turned against us. As if publishing books ourselves isn’t hard enough, now we have to deal with giant corporations trying to annihilate us by making it impossible to make a living doing what we love. It’s a conspiracy we simply can’t break out of.

OH. MY. SHIT. How can we be expected to create, to thrive, to just write the stories filling up our hearts and our minds when we have to think about getting fucked every second of every day? All we can do is write about it and hope that someone, somewhere will save us. It’s not like we can save ourselves. I mean, we’re getting fucked here. You can’t do shit when you’re bent over taking a screwing like that. All you can do is keep your head down and cry for help.

First it was the traditional dicks fucking us, and now it’s Amazon. Next, it’ll be the fucking readers. They’re deviously fuckish, that bunch. What are we to do?

Have I gone too far? Have I hurt your tiny feelings?

 

Well, I’m not sorry. When did we become a bunch of whiny little fucktards? Indie authors should be made of sterner stuff. WE ARE BETTER THAN THIS. And I’m tired of listening to my peers, who are mostly talented and smart individuals, bitching and whining about how they can’t catch a break. I’m tired of hearing that Indie authors have it SO HARD, because let’s face it, folks, publishing is hard. It’s never been easy and never will be for very good reasons. It’s a job. It’s work. You have to EARN your money at any other job. Why should writing be any different? Yes, it’s a tough gig. Yes, it’s like pushing a goddamn square wheel uphill, through piles of sticky shit and against hurricane force winds, just to sell a single book. Yes, it’s unfair that damn fine authors are living in obscurity while those that write about sex with One Direction are getting fat and rich.

Suck it up, bitches. Life is hard and all that. Pull up the big girl panties (or big boy panties if that’s what you prefer) and figure out a different way to get what you want. No one’s going to do it for you.

Amazon (and the bazillion other self-publishing platforms out there) has never NOT been sketchy. Bookstores have always supported traditional publishers, because that’s where the money is. They’re businesses and to stay profitable, they can’t worry about the little guy. (You and I would be the little guys, in case you’re unclear on that.) Selling anything is hard, because consumers don’t want to pay for shit. Whether you’re selling books or pizzas, your customers are always looking for the deal, the freebie, the least expensive way to get what they want. It will never get easier and there will always be a dick waiting to stick it to you.

Writing about how unfair it is or how bad it’s going to get doesn’t change anything.

But I have good news, folks.

There is a cure for this plague sweeping across Indie publishing. Here it is: Take charge of yourself and your career and make some goddamn decisions. You might also want to stop blaming everyone else for your failures and disappointments.

Or, an easier remedy: Stop moaning about getting fucked if you’re going to keep bending over. 

Tagged: Amazon, life, self-publishing, whiners