Liz DeJesus's Blog, page 24
June 9, 2013
Marketing
So I've noticed a few posts on facebook about authors complaining that they're not selling enough copies of their book. Some authors like to put the blame on their publisher (I see this more often than not). But stop and think about it. (Basing this on my experience with my Musa Publishing who is AMAZING BTW). The publisher took a chance on you and sent you a contract. Is paying you royalties, set you up with an editor, line editor, cover designer, and made your book available online for the world to see (B & N, amazon.com, kobo, iTunes, etc.). They have hundreds of authors in their roster, they need to divide their attention in several hundred directions. They can't focus all of their attention on one single author when they have so many to take care of.
You need to step up to the plate and do a little bit of leg work. What does it mean? Sending your book out to reviewers (most publishers do this too but sometimes reviewers prefer the personal touch of being in direct contact with the author), creating social media pages, having a blog, connecting with other authors and creating promotional items. No one knows your book better than you do! You know every nook and cranny that's in your story. Every secret and gesture your character has made. You've been living and breathing your book for months....a year...or more.
I know, it can be overwhelming to put yourself out there because there's always that fear of rejection. What if no one likes your book? Trust me, I've had my fair share of 1 star reviews. I sit, mope, eat lots of chocolate and whine about it. Then I pick up my pen and keep writing. Because there's another question you're not giving yourself the chance to find the answer to....what if someone likes your book? What if several people like your book?
You can't just sit on your ass and wait for your publisher to do all the work for you. I love emailing Dom (the director/goddess of promotions at Musa) to let her know what ideas I've come up with. And guess what? She does what she can to help me put things in motion.
When I wanted bookmarks made, I emailed Kelly (cover designer/goddess of computers & Delphi) and she created the most beautiful bookmarks for me. I was able to order 500 of them at an affordable price and I take them with me everywhere. I call indie bookstores and ask them if they would like free bookmarks. They always say yes! I drop them off at libraries. I take them with me to my book signings and other events. I also make business cards and put them inside envelopes whenever I have to pay a bill (I'm old fashioned...I still write checks).
I'm on facebook, twitter, livejournal, pinterest, goodreads *takes deep breath* instagram, wordpress, google plus and linked in.
And I update most of these sites ALL THE TIME.
Learn how to use hashtags on twitter.
Another thing people have to remember is that social media is exactly that...social media. People are there to try to get to know you as a person. You can't shove your book (or whatever it is your selling) down their throat 24/7. If that worked then I would've sold 904 copies of First Frost by now. So have fun. People can tell when you're being fake. Now, don't take it to the extreme either. No one wants to know what your OBGYN told you during your recent visit. Seriously. Keep that private stuff to yourself.
Try to help other indie authors. Have them on your blog for the day as a guest blogger. More often than not they will invite you to do the same. And you never know, you might get a new fan or two because of it.
Read books and magazine articles on marketing. I've learned so much because of it. Here are some of my favorite books on marketing:
Look up online magazines that are interested in interviewing authors such as http://bookpinning.com/ . Do research. Things aren't just going to fall on your lap. You have to get out there (metaphorically speaking...since you'll be doing this from the computer) and do the best that you can. And whatever you do...don't sit at home hitting the refresh button on the amazon site. You're wasting valuable time obsessing over the rank.
When you're not promoting your book, WRITE.
You need to step up to the plate and do a little bit of leg work. What does it mean? Sending your book out to reviewers (most publishers do this too but sometimes reviewers prefer the personal touch of being in direct contact with the author), creating social media pages, having a blog, connecting with other authors and creating promotional items. No one knows your book better than you do! You know every nook and cranny that's in your story. Every secret and gesture your character has made. You've been living and breathing your book for months....a year...or more.
I know, it can be overwhelming to put yourself out there because there's always that fear of rejection. What if no one likes your book? Trust me, I've had my fair share of 1 star reviews. I sit, mope, eat lots of chocolate and whine about it. Then I pick up my pen and keep writing. Because there's another question you're not giving yourself the chance to find the answer to....what if someone likes your book? What if several people like your book?
You can't just sit on your ass and wait for your publisher to do all the work for you. I love emailing Dom (the director/goddess of promotions at Musa) to let her know what ideas I've come up with. And guess what? She does what she can to help me put things in motion.
When I wanted bookmarks made, I emailed Kelly (cover designer/goddess of computers & Delphi) and she created the most beautiful bookmarks for me. I was able to order 500 of them at an affordable price and I take them with me everywhere. I call indie bookstores and ask them if they would like free bookmarks. They always say yes! I drop them off at libraries. I take them with me to my book signings and other events. I also make business cards and put them inside envelopes whenever I have to pay a bill (I'm old fashioned...I still write checks).
I'm on facebook, twitter, livejournal, pinterest, goodreads *takes deep breath* instagram, wordpress, google plus and linked in.
And I update most of these sites ALL THE TIME.
Learn how to use hashtags on twitter.
Another thing people have to remember is that social media is exactly that...social media. People are there to try to get to know you as a person. You can't shove your book (or whatever it is your selling) down their throat 24/7. If that worked then I would've sold 904 copies of First Frost by now. So have fun. People can tell when you're being fake. Now, don't take it to the extreme either. No one wants to know what your OBGYN told you during your recent visit. Seriously. Keep that private stuff to yourself.
Try to help other indie authors. Have them on your blog for the day as a guest blogger. More often than not they will invite you to do the same. And you never know, you might get a new fan or two because of it.
Read books and magazine articles on marketing. I've learned so much because of it. Here are some of my favorite books on marketing:
Look up online magazines that are interested in interviewing authors such as http://bookpinning.com/ . Do research. Things aren't just going to fall on your lap. You have to get out there (metaphorically speaking...since you'll be doing this from the computer) and do the best that you can. And whatever you do...don't sit at home hitting the refresh button on the amazon site. You're wasting valuable time obsessing over the rank.
When you're not promoting your book, WRITE.
Shattered Frost
alice in wonderland II. by ~granula on deviantART
Alice's Flamingo by *ElenaKalis on deviantART
20492 / 50000 words. 41% done!
Guest Blog Post ~ Laura DeLuca
People always ask writers where they get their ideas from. For me, most of my ideas initiate from dreams. I am one of those New Age gals who keeps a little dream journal by my bed so I can jot down all my dreams as soon as I wake up. I do this not just for writing purposes but because I am a believer in the symbolism behind our dreams. I believe they are often our subconscious or even the spirit world trying to communicate with us. It was years ago that my muse came to me with the initial seed that would later grow into Morrigan. One night about ten years ago, I had a dream about a man coming through a magic portal and taking me to a fairytale world. The dream was brief and there wasn't much detail, but it stuck with me for years. I wanted to make it into a book, but it wasn't until I met my husband many years later that the rest of the pieces fell into place.
Meeting my husband ties into dreams as well. When we met, I was messing around on an internet dating site. I know it sounds pathetic, but for a single mom in a small town, there was no other way to meet new people who weren't drunken losers. Well, some of them still turned out to be drunken losers, or married losers, or reverends of the Jedi order--but that's another story. It wasn't something I took seriously. I wasn't looking to find true love or get married. I was just looking to have fun on my nights without kids. I never planned on getting married again. I had walked away from a bad marriage that could have destroyed me emotional and financial, and picked up the pieces and rebuilt a good life for me and my two children. I had a great job, bought a house, and was the epitome of strong, independent women. Not that falling in love would make you weak. I just wasn't interested. Then one day I get an email on Yahoo personals from this guy named Timmie. He had no picture. Normally this was a huge red flag. It usually meant one of two things--they were hideously deformed or married. As someone with a love of the Phantom of the Opera, it was more the married part that concerned me. I had been on the other end of a cheating husband and didn't take kindly to being placed in the role of the other women. My normal instinct to those emails was to ignore them. Yet, this time, my instincts told me the opposite and I knew why. This is where dreams come back into play. The reason I kept reading that email from the imageless man was because his name was Timmie and Timmie was my dream man. Quite literally.
In my novel, Morrigan often muses about the dark knight who had haunted her dreams for as long as she can remember. For me, Timmie had been in my dreams since I was a child. He was even my imaginary friend when I was little. I still had the dreams occasionally, but I had long since given up on any visions of love that might come from them. Then I got this email and I knew I had to reply. The funny thing is, I told this mysterious Tim from the start that I was only replying to him because of my dreams. That would have scared most normal guys away. Of course, my dream man isn't normal. What fun would that be?
In was only a week later that I met Timmie for the first time. He was sitting on a bench in our designated public meeting place, and I knew for sure it was him even before formal introductions were made. My feelings from that first glance were exactly the same as Morrigan's the first time she saw Filtiarn.
Instantly, all her worries and fears vanished. It was as if an angel had miraculously appeared in her moment of turmoil, albeit a scruffy and somewhat rugged looking angel. He was amazing—a walking piece of medieval art. She swore beams of light illuminated him in a strange, unearthly glow. She wasn’t even sure if he was real or just another vision. There were two things she knew with absolute certainty from the first second she saw him. She was recklessly in love with him, and it completely terrified her.
The fact that Morrigan dreamed of Filtiarn is not the only similarity between Morrigan’s love interest and mine. From our first date, Timmie enchanted me with his tales of his cross county travels. He was once a dread-locked hippie who traveled with the Rainbow Gathering, slept under bridges, and even lived in a cave for three months. Now, the average girl would who heard these stories on a first date would probably wish she had a cave to hide in. Not me. Timmie was refreshing and unique. This was the first date I had since my divorce that didn't leave me rolling my eyes. A rainbow even appeared in the sky as we walked along the boardwalk, a sign of new beginnings (you might recognize this scene if you've read Phantom).
Of course, I can't fail to mention the physical traits that Filtiarn inherited from Timmie. Just a few weeks into our relationship, he had earned the nickname of Chewy because he is literally covered in hair. He is the reason for the term "five o'clock shadow". I could probably braid the hair of his arms and legs. Even his fingers and toes have hair! As I was working on my character development, this character that Timmie inspired could only be one type of creature. Thus Filtiarn "King of the Wolves" was created--a werewolf. He has Timmie's hairiness, his musical abilities (though I switched it from a saxophone to a pan flute), and of course, his witty sarcasm.
“Humph.” Tiarn grunted and curled his lip. “You call that filthy! You obviously do not know the meaning of the word. That place we just came from—what do you call it? Baltimore? Cement covering the Goddess’ green earth. Wires blocking the view of Father Skye. Pollution making it difficult to breathe, and litter everywhere you look. That was filth. The dust on those blankets is just good old-fashioned dirt. Honest to goodness, deliciously clean dirt! You should revel in it, Princess! The bed where you shall lay your head this night is the cleanest and purest you have rested on in many moons.”
So often I have seen people turn up their nose at the idea of "instalove", saying it’s unrealistic. I can tell you first hand, there's nothing unrealistic about it. But this love at first sight phenomenon isn't as instant as it seems. My relationship with my husband didn't start in this life. I have had several past life regressions that included him, some of which he was also recalled. So in my mind, "instalove" is really a love between two old souls who have found each other for first time in a new life. This is a love that has spanned through countless lifetimes and that even death could not destroy. Timmie is my soul mate, my inspiration, and the reason Morrigan became my most popular book to date. I love my real life werewolf, in this life and the next!
About the Author:Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan, Demon and Player. Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads
Meeting my husband ties into dreams as well. When we met, I was messing around on an internet dating site. I know it sounds pathetic, but for a single mom in a small town, there was no other way to meet new people who weren't drunken losers. Well, some of them still turned out to be drunken losers, or married losers, or reverends of the Jedi order--but that's another story. It wasn't something I took seriously. I wasn't looking to find true love or get married. I was just looking to have fun on my nights without kids. I never planned on getting married again. I had walked away from a bad marriage that could have destroyed me emotional and financial, and picked up the pieces and rebuilt a good life for me and my two children. I had a great job, bought a house, and was the epitome of strong, independent women. Not that falling in love would make you weak. I just wasn't interested. Then one day I get an email on Yahoo personals from this guy named Timmie. He had no picture. Normally this was a huge red flag. It usually meant one of two things--they were hideously deformed or married. As someone with a love of the Phantom of the Opera, it was more the married part that concerned me. I had been on the other end of a cheating husband and didn't take kindly to being placed in the role of the other women. My normal instinct to those emails was to ignore them. Yet, this time, my instincts told me the opposite and I knew why. This is where dreams come back into play. The reason I kept reading that email from the imageless man was because his name was Timmie and Timmie was my dream man. Quite literally.
In my novel, Morrigan often muses about the dark knight who had haunted her dreams for as long as she can remember. For me, Timmie had been in my dreams since I was a child. He was even my imaginary friend when I was little. I still had the dreams occasionally, but I had long since given up on any visions of love that might come from them. Then I got this email and I knew I had to reply. The funny thing is, I told this mysterious Tim from the start that I was only replying to him because of my dreams. That would have scared most normal guys away. Of course, my dream man isn't normal. What fun would that be?
In was only a week later that I met Timmie for the first time. He was sitting on a bench in our designated public meeting place, and I knew for sure it was him even before formal introductions were made. My feelings from that first glance were exactly the same as Morrigan's the first time she saw Filtiarn.
Instantly, all her worries and fears vanished. It was as if an angel had miraculously appeared in her moment of turmoil, albeit a scruffy and somewhat rugged looking angel. He was amazing—a walking piece of medieval art. She swore beams of light illuminated him in a strange, unearthly glow. She wasn’t even sure if he was real or just another vision. There were two things she knew with absolute certainty from the first second she saw him. She was recklessly in love with him, and it completely terrified her.
The fact that Morrigan dreamed of Filtiarn is not the only similarity between Morrigan’s love interest and mine. From our first date, Timmie enchanted me with his tales of his cross county travels. He was once a dread-locked hippie who traveled with the Rainbow Gathering, slept under bridges, and even lived in a cave for three months. Now, the average girl would who heard these stories on a first date would probably wish she had a cave to hide in. Not me. Timmie was refreshing and unique. This was the first date I had since my divorce that didn't leave me rolling my eyes. A rainbow even appeared in the sky as we walked along the boardwalk, a sign of new beginnings (you might recognize this scene if you've read Phantom).
Of course, I can't fail to mention the physical traits that Filtiarn inherited from Timmie. Just a few weeks into our relationship, he had earned the nickname of Chewy because he is literally covered in hair. He is the reason for the term "five o'clock shadow". I could probably braid the hair of his arms and legs. Even his fingers and toes have hair! As I was working on my character development, this character that Timmie inspired could only be one type of creature. Thus Filtiarn "King of the Wolves" was created--a werewolf. He has Timmie's hairiness, his musical abilities (though I switched it from a saxophone to a pan flute), and of course, his witty sarcasm.
“Humph.” Tiarn grunted and curled his lip. “You call that filthy! You obviously do not know the meaning of the word. That place we just came from—what do you call it? Baltimore? Cement covering the Goddess’ green earth. Wires blocking the view of Father Skye. Pollution making it difficult to breathe, and litter everywhere you look. That was filth. The dust on those blankets is just good old-fashioned dirt. Honest to goodness, deliciously clean dirt! You should revel in it, Princess! The bed where you shall lay your head this night is the cleanest and purest you have rested on in many moons.”
So often I have seen people turn up their nose at the idea of "instalove", saying it’s unrealistic. I can tell you first hand, there's nothing unrealistic about it. But this love at first sight phenomenon isn't as instant as it seems. My relationship with my husband didn't start in this life. I have had several past life regressions that included him, some of which he was also recalled. So in my mind, "instalove" is really a love between two old souls who have found each other for first time in a new life. This is a love that has spanned through countless lifetimes and that even death could not destroy. Timmie is my soul mate, my inspiration, and the reason Morrigan became my most popular book to date. I love my real life werewolf, in this life and the next!
About the Author:Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan, Demon and Player. Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads
Morrigan Excerpt
Shuffled from place to place in the foster system, Morrigan doesn't know the meaning of home. Plus, she is different. She has power over fire, the ability to move objects with her mind, and glimpse into the future. Just when she believes her life can’t get any stranger, she discovers her true identity.Filtiarn, a knight with a dark past and a surprising secret, has been tasked with guiding the heir of Tír Na NÓg through countless perils to be returned to her family. Once Morrigan has been reunited with her mother and grandmother, their triad can save the forgotten land of magic from being devoured by an ancient evil.
Buy Links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Smashwords
Excerpt:“Guardians!” A low snarl emanated from the back of his throat. “What are you doing with Guardians?”“Stop it! Sit down!”Morrigan wasn’t sure who she was addressing, the man or the animals. Luckily, they both obeyed her command. She stepped in between them to avoid any further confrontations. The cats took a seat on either side her legs, but their posture hardly relaxed. They still glared warily at the newcomer, even though their hisses died down to an occasional soft growl.“Dirty, filthy beasts!” Tiarn snarled as he climbed to his feet. “I hate Guardians.”“They’re just little cats,” Morrigan told him. “What’s the big deal?”“Just cats! Hah!” He was standing at a careful distance, even though they had started licking their paws nonchalantly. “They are much more than simple cats! Though even those I find distasteful.”Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”“Never mind. It does not matter.” Tiarn dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “They are not coming with us.“They most certainly are coming!”Tiarn growled again. “I beg to differ with you, Your Highness. They would only get in the way. Possibly even get killed.”Danu raised her head from her grooming to hiss at him again, as though she had taken that last statement as a personal threat. The strange reaction of her faithful sidekicks made Morrigan wonder again just how much Tiarn could be trusted. She also wondered why, when she wasn’t sure she could trust him, she still felt the undeniable urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.“If they stay here alone, they’ll definitely get killed or at least sent to the pound,” Morrigan told him. “I can’t let that happen. So, they’re coming. End of story.”Tiarn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Very well, Princess. Bring your mongrel felines. Just keep in mind that Guardians and lycans do not mix well.”“Lycans?” Morrigan repeated.A sick feeling started to settle in her stomach, as the truth of his words sunk in. It all started to make sense—his hairy arms and chest, his reaction to the cats, even his earlier comment about smelling her out. Her dark knight had a much darker side than she had ever seen in her dreams.“Why yes, Your Majesty. Did you not realize? You are a witch and a sorceress. And I, your faithful traveling companion, am a lycan—a werewolf.”Shuffled from place to place in the foster system, Morrigan doesn't know the meaning of home. Plus, she is different. She has power over fire, the ability to move objects with her mind, and glimpse into the future. Just when she believes her life can’t get any stranger, she discovers her true identity.Filtiarn, a knight with a dark past and a surprising secret, has been tasked with guiding the heir of Tír Na NÓg through countless perils to be returned to her family. Once Morrigan has been reunited with her mother and grandmother, their triad can save the forgotten land of magic from being devoured by an ancient evil.
Buy Links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / SmashwordsAbout the Author:Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan, Demon and Player. Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads
Buy Links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Smashwords
Excerpt:“Guardians!” A low snarl emanated from the back of his throat. “What are you doing with Guardians?”“Stop it! Sit down!”Morrigan wasn’t sure who she was addressing, the man or the animals. Luckily, they both obeyed her command. She stepped in between them to avoid any further confrontations. The cats took a seat on either side her legs, but their posture hardly relaxed. They still glared warily at the newcomer, even though their hisses died down to an occasional soft growl.“Dirty, filthy beasts!” Tiarn snarled as he climbed to his feet. “I hate Guardians.”“They’re just little cats,” Morrigan told him. “What’s the big deal?”“Just cats! Hah!” He was standing at a careful distance, even though they had started licking their paws nonchalantly. “They are much more than simple cats! Though even those I find distasteful.”Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”“Never mind. It does not matter.” Tiarn dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “They are not coming with us.“They most certainly are coming!”Tiarn growled again. “I beg to differ with you, Your Highness. They would only get in the way. Possibly even get killed.”Danu raised her head from her grooming to hiss at him again, as though she had taken that last statement as a personal threat. The strange reaction of her faithful sidekicks made Morrigan wonder again just how much Tiarn could be trusted. She also wondered why, when she wasn’t sure she could trust him, she still felt the undeniable urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.“If they stay here alone, they’ll definitely get killed or at least sent to the pound,” Morrigan told him. “I can’t let that happen. So, they’re coming. End of story.”Tiarn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Very well, Princess. Bring your mongrel felines. Just keep in mind that Guardians and lycans do not mix well.”“Lycans?” Morrigan repeated.A sick feeling started to settle in her stomach, as the truth of his words sunk in. It all started to make sense—his hairy arms and chest, his reaction to the cats, even his earlier comment about smelling her out. Her dark knight had a much darker side than she had ever seen in her dreams.“Why yes, Your Majesty. Did you not realize? You are a witch and a sorceress. And I, your faithful traveling companion, am a lycan—a werewolf.”Shuffled from place to place in the foster system, Morrigan doesn't know the meaning of home. Plus, she is different. She has power over fire, the ability to move objects with her mind, and glimpse into the future. Just when she believes her life can’t get any stranger, she discovers her true identity.Filtiarn, a knight with a dark past and a surprising secret, has been tasked with guiding the heir of Tír Na NÓg through countless perils to be returned to her family. Once Morrigan has been reunited with her mother and grandmother, their triad can save the forgotten land of magic from being devoured by an ancient evil.Buy Links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / SmashwordsAbout the Author:Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan, Demon and Player. Website / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads
June 8, 2013
Glass Frost video
Make your own slideshow at Animoto.
June 7, 2013
Fairy Tale Friday
This week's edition of Fairy Tale Friday will be about the story The True Bride. Now I'm sure I read this a long time ago when I was younger but I didn't remember it until I watched Jim Henson's Storyteller with Jon Hurt. I loved this short lived TV show, I never watched it while it was on TV but I did buy the DVD's when they came out and I watched it over and over again. I love it as much as I love Shelley Duvall's Faerie Tale Theater. :)
Anyway in the story of The True Bride it's about this young girl that is abused by her stepmother (in the show she's a troll) and makes her do these impossible tasks with the threat of beating her if she doesn't accomplish set task. The girl cries until suddenly an old woman appears and asks her what her problem is. The girl tells her about the impossible task and the old woman tells her to lay down, that she will take care of everything. And this happens several times until the stepmother falls down the cellar and dies. Then the girl is finally free of her wicked stepmother and lives in a castle (that the old woman built overnight) happily until she meets a young man.
I'm just going to post the rest here because it gets more complicated and I don't think I'll be able to tell it right. :) There are different versions of this story. In some the girl's stepmother is a troll. The old woman is a white lion. But all in all the general plot of the fairy tale remains the same. Oh and The Old Woman has a cameo in First Frost! :D
This is what I got from wikipedia:
I am in love with a fairytale by *Marinshe on deviantART
old woman by ~nelsonaf on deviantART
White Lion with Birds by *creaturesfromel on deviantART
Anyway in the story of The True Bride it's about this young girl that is abused by her stepmother (in the show she's a troll) and makes her do these impossible tasks with the threat of beating her if she doesn't accomplish set task. The girl cries until suddenly an old woman appears and asks her what her problem is. The girl tells her about the impossible task and the old woman tells her to lay down, that she will take care of everything. And this happens several times until the stepmother falls down the cellar and dies. Then the girl is finally free of her wicked stepmother and lives in a castle (that the old woman built overnight) happily until she meets a young man.
I'm just going to post the rest here because it gets more complicated and I don't think I'll be able to tell it right. :) There are different versions of this story. In some the girl's stepmother is a troll. The old woman is a white lion. But all in all the general plot of the fairy tale remains the same. Oh and The Old Woman has a cameo in First Frost! :D
This is what I got from wikipedia:
A beautiful young girl was made to work hard by her wicked stepmother. One day, the stepmother set her to pick twelve pounds of feathers before night and promised a beating if she failed. The girl cried. An old woman asked about her troubles; she told them, and the old woman promised all would be well and told her to lie down. The girl slept, and the old woman picked the feathers.
The next day, the stepmother set her to empty a pond with a spoon. The old woman had her sleep in a thicket and touched the pool with the spoon, which turned the pool to vapor.
The third day, the stepmother ordered her to build a castle in a rocky valley. The old woman had her sleep in the shade and moved the rocks to form a castle. The stepmother inspected every inch of it, promising a beating if it were not all as it should be; she went to check that the cellar was filled, and the cellar door fell on her, killing her.
The girl lived in the castle alone. It was filled with riches, and stories of her beauty and wealth spread. Many wooers came to her. At last, a king's son won her heart. He went to get his father's consent. She kissed him, told him not to let anyone else kiss him on that cheek, and sat under a lime tree to await him. On the fourth day without his return, she packed up three dresses, embroidered with suns, moons, and stars, and set out to seek him. She was unable to find him, whoever she asked, and finally took a job as a cowherd and buried her jewels and dresses under a rock. She made a pet of a little calf and sang to it of her being abandoned.
After a few years, she heard that the king's daughter was to marry, and saw that the bridegroom was her prince. She sang to her calf as the prince rode by, and he looked at her, but he did not remember her. When three days' festivities were held to celebrate the marriage, she dressed herself in her gown with suns and went to the first ball. She so enchanted the prince that he forgot his new bride. The second night, she wore the gown with moons and enchanted him again; she had to promise to come the third night to get away. The third night, she wore the gown with stars, and when she kissed him, he remembered her. They went back to her castle and married there.
I am in love with a fairytale by *Marinshe on deviantART
old woman by ~nelsonaf on deviantART
White Lion with Birds by *creaturesfromel on deviantART
June 5, 2013
What Will Your Readers Leave With? by M.L. Chesley
What Will Your Readers Leave With?
The world was abuzz after the "Red Wedding" episode of 'Game of Thrones' was aired. Okay, the internet world was abuzz.
I don't know how many of you are fans of GoT, either reading the books, watching the show, or both, but I've finally caught up to the rest of the world and am almost done with the fourth book. I love the series, both books and show. (Although, personally, I can do without all the sex scenes.) So when people on Facebook started posting, "OMG! Game of Thrones episode!!" needless to say, my curiosity was piqued. I killed my television a long time ago. Well, the cable. I watch shows via Netflix, so I wanted to know where the series was on TV. A friend of mine told me over private messages so there'd be no spoilers in comments.
I thought, "Ah yes, the Red Wedding". I know the scene very well. I won't post spoilers in this guest spot. It's only part of the topic I want to touch base on here. So what's the topic I want to focus on? Killing characters, of course. Okay, that was sort of a spoiler, but you don't know who was killed, so I'm safe.
George R. R. Martin was interviewed, either before or after that particular episode aired, I don't know which. But Martin said: "I try to make the readers feel they’ve lived the events of the book. Just as you grieve if a friend is killed, you should grieve if a fictional character is killed. You should care. If somebody dies and you just go get more popcorn, it’s a superficial experience isn’t it?"
I agree with this statement. Not every character needs to die a horrible death, or even a "slip from the grasping fingers of this world" kind of death. But there are some books, where the tension has built up and you just know someone is going to bite the dust and how deflated, no, cheated do you feel when no one does?
I bet you're wondering by now just how blood-thirsty I am. I'm not. Truly! I don't like seeing characters die any more than I want to hear of a close family member or friend passing. I cried like a baby while reading the final book in the Harry Potter series. I read that book with a box of tissues next to me the entire time. But if you're going to lead your characters down a merry path and not kill anyone or even have someone get seriously injured, you're cheating your readers.
Now, granted, people read to escape their real life tragedies, not many want to read something that is going to bring the real world crashing through the doors of their place of escape. But as a writer, you're drawing from personal experience and we all know not everything is sunshine and roses. Give your readers the happy endings, the peace and closure they're seeking. Give them comfort and solace in your writing. Write as if you are speaking to them through your characters, that, while death has come the living will continue to soldier on. Grieve, for that is only human nature, but know that you are not alone in your world of pain and hurt and suffering. Someone else is always there to help you, guide you, if you choose to allow them. Those are the kinds of books I love reading, the ones that leave me with this sort of message. So yes, killing off your characters, in a way, is going to help someone and we want readers to take more than just our words and our stories away from the whole experience.
M. L. Chesley is an Alaska based author, online blogger and MMORPG junkie. She has been writing fantasy for several years. Between writing, work and family she barely has time for much gaming, but some days, raids take precedence over all. If you would like to learn more about her world, created in this book, go to www.mlchesley.webs.com. You can also follow her blog at www.caledonialass.blogspot.com.
The world was abuzz after the "Red Wedding" episode of 'Game of Thrones' was aired. Okay, the internet world was abuzz.
I don't know how many of you are fans of GoT, either reading the books, watching the show, or both, but I've finally caught up to the rest of the world and am almost done with the fourth book. I love the series, both books and show. (Although, personally, I can do without all the sex scenes.) So when people on Facebook started posting, "OMG! Game of Thrones episode!!" needless to say, my curiosity was piqued. I killed my television a long time ago. Well, the cable. I watch shows via Netflix, so I wanted to know where the series was on TV. A friend of mine told me over private messages so there'd be no spoilers in comments.
I thought, "Ah yes, the Red Wedding". I know the scene very well. I won't post spoilers in this guest spot. It's only part of the topic I want to touch base on here. So what's the topic I want to focus on? Killing characters, of course. Okay, that was sort of a spoiler, but you don't know who was killed, so I'm safe.
George R. R. Martin was interviewed, either before or after that particular episode aired, I don't know which. But Martin said: "I try to make the readers feel they’ve lived the events of the book. Just as you grieve if a friend is killed, you should grieve if a fictional character is killed. You should care. If somebody dies and you just go get more popcorn, it’s a superficial experience isn’t it?"
I agree with this statement. Not every character needs to die a horrible death, or even a "slip from the grasping fingers of this world" kind of death. But there are some books, where the tension has built up and you just know someone is going to bite the dust and how deflated, no, cheated do you feel when no one does?
I bet you're wondering by now just how blood-thirsty I am. I'm not. Truly! I don't like seeing characters die any more than I want to hear of a close family member or friend passing. I cried like a baby while reading the final book in the Harry Potter series. I read that book with a box of tissues next to me the entire time. But if you're going to lead your characters down a merry path and not kill anyone or even have someone get seriously injured, you're cheating your readers.
Now, granted, people read to escape their real life tragedies, not many want to read something that is going to bring the real world crashing through the doors of their place of escape. But as a writer, you're drawing from personal experience and we all know not everything is sunshine and roses. Give your readers the happy endings, the peace and closure they're seeking. Give them comfort and solace in your writing. Write as if you are speaking to them through your characters, that, while death has come the living will continue to soldier on. Grieve, for that is only human nature, but know that you are not alone in your world of pain and hurt and suffering. Someone else is always there to help you, guide you, if you choose to allow them. Those are the kinds of books I love reading, the ones that leave me with this sort of message. So yes, killing off your characters, in a way, is going to help someone and we want readers to take more than just our words and our stories away from the whole experience.
M. L. Chesley is an Alaska based author, online blogger and MMORPG junkie. She has been writing fantasy for several years. Between writing, work and family she barely has time for much gaming, but some days, raids take precedence over all. If you would like to learn more about her world, created in this book, go to www.mlchesley.webs.com. You can also follow her blog at www.caledonialass.blogspot.com.
June 4, 2013
Glass Frost Cover
It's official. This is the finalized cover for Glass Frost. :D
Glass Frost Teaser
Reluctantly Bianca sat down on a nearby stool; the chairs were so small that she worried she would break them. Luckily for her, they were quite sturdy. Bianca took a seat next to Terrance. Ming eventually joined them and sat beside the prince. Bianca noticed the awestruck look on Prince Ferdinand’s face as he ran his hands along the table.
“Are you okay?” Bianca asked.
He lifted his gaze at her. “Incredible. Isn’t it?”
Bianca grinned and nodded. When she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine a young Snow White living here. A beautiful little girl, scared, with nowhere else to go. Probably relieved to have found a safe place to call home. Someplace where she wouldn’t be abused, threatened, or killed. A steady energy seemed to run through the cottage. It hummed with warmth and love.
The three dwarves joined them in the dining room where they all sat and drank herbal tea. Bianca breathed in the warm and aromatic fragrance of the cloves and cinnamon.
“This cottage was half the size when Snow lived with us,” Collier said.
“Really?”
“Snow didn’t care though. She loved it here,” Howard said. “She helped rebuild the kitchen and planted a vegetable and rose garden beside the cottage. It hasn’t been touched since she passed away, but every year there is a fresh crop of vegetables ripe for the pickin’. I swear every year the roses smell sweeter and sweeter.”
Bianca imagined Snow White helping them build the kitchen and the other rooms in the house. She could picture her with silver-colored nails glinting on the corner of her mouth and a hammer in her hand, ready to do anything to help. Bianca wondered if she helped carve the designs on the walls, and if so, which ones was she responsible for.
“She loved you,” Bianca said.
“Aye, she did,” Knox said. All three brothers nodded in agreement.
“Were you angry with her when she left?” Terrance asked.
“No. Not at all. This wasn’t a place for a beautiful princess. We were sad to see her go, but never angry,” Knox explained.
Bianca was happy to hear that. Did Snow White know how they felt? She liked to think so.
Knox finished his tea and set his mug down on the table.
“Come…follow me,” he said. He grunted as he got out of his chair. “You’ll have to forgive my slowness…these old bones aren’t what they used to be. I am nine hundred and ninety seven years old after all.”
Bianca set her tea aside and followed Knox as he led her up the steps.
“Is it true?” Bianca asked.
“Is what true?”
“That dwarves live until they are a thousand years old.”
“Yes, it’s true.” Knox gave her a single nod.
“Doesn’t it scare you? Knowing that you only have three years left?”
“Death doesn’t frighten me, child. I’m looking forward to being finished with this life. I’ll see my brothers again. I’ll see Snow White once more. I won’t be so tired anymore.”
Bianca had a hard time believing what Knox just said. She had never met anyone that was looking forward to dying. In all honesty, she had never thought about what she would be like twenty years down the road. As far ahead as she was thinking at the moment was her senior year in high school and her eighteenth birthday. But other than that? She had no clue.
Bianca continued to follow Knox up the lopsided stairs. She had to bend a little so her head wouldn’t touch the ceiling. Once they reached the hallway, she studied her surroundings. There were four rooms. Three of them she could peek into, but all she could see was the foot of their beds. The door to the fourth bedroom was closed. That was the room he led her to.
Knox opened the door; it released a soft creak, as though it had been ages since anyone had stepped inside its threshold. It had a higher ceiling than the rest of the cottage. In the middle of the room was a full-size bed with white lace sheets and a single pillow. There was a small night table with a silver candlestick and a single half-burnt white candle. At the foot of the bed was a large wooden trunk. It was a beautiful polished cherry. All Bianca wanted to do was open it and find out what secrets it held.
“This was Snow’s room,” Knox said.
“It’s beautiful.” And Bianca meant it. She was struck by the simplicity of the place. It was elegant. Uncomplicated. Much like the woman that inhabited this space.
“We’ve left it just as it is. We come in every once in a while to dust and clean off the cobwebs.”
He opened the trunk and very carefully placed the items on top of the bed. There was a white dress, a pair of dusty-rose silk slippers, black work boots, a navy-blue and white quilt, and lace gloves that had yellowed with age. Then he tugged on a small piece of rope and revealed a secret hiding place. Patiently, Bianca waited. Knox pulled out a red velvet bag with gold ties.
“Here.” He handed the bag to Bianca.
“What is it?” she asked as she took the bag from him. She couldn’t get over the rich velvet fabric she held in her hands. The fabric felt soft against her fingertips. Bianca had never seen anything so luxurious in her life.
“I don’t know. I’ve never looked inside. She never said what it was or what to do with it. All she told me was that she would return someday to retrieve it. Unfortunately that day never came. And seeing as you’re her kin, I like to think she wouldn’t mind if you had it.”
Knox took the items he had placed on the bed and put them back inside the trunk. He gently closed the lid and walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, leaving Bianca alone to examine the red velvet bag.
She let out a deep sigh. It never ends.
She sat on the corner of the bed. The color on the blood-red bag was still bright. It was as though it had been at the bottom of the trunk for a few days and not a couple of centuries. She undid the knot and emptied the contents on top of the bed.
“Apple seeds,” she whispered.
© Liz DeJesus 2013
“Are you okay?” Bianca asked.
He lifted his gaze at her. “Incredible. Isn’t it?”
Bianca grinned and nodded. When she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine a young Snow White living here. A beautiful little girl, scared, with nowhere else to go. Probably relieved to have found a safe place to call home. Someplace where she wouldn’t be abused, threatened, or killed. A steady energy seemed to run through the cottage. It hummed with warmth and love.
The three dwarves joined them in the dining room where they all sat and drank herbal tea. Bianca breathed in the warm and aromatic fragrance of the cloves and cinnamon.
“This cottage was half the size when Snow lived with us,” Collier said.
“Really?”
“Snow didn’t care though. She loved it here,” Howard said. “She helped rebuild the kitchen and planted a vegetable and rose garden beside the cottage. It hasn’t been touched since she passed away, but every year there is a fresh crop of vegetables ripe for the pickin’. I swear every year the roses smell sweeter and sweeter.”
Bianca imagined Snow White helping them build the kitchen and the other rooms in the house. She could picture her with silver-colored nails glinting on the corner of her mouth and a hammer in her hand, ready to do anything to help. Bianca wondered if she helped carve the designs on the walls, and if so, which ones was she responsible for.
“She loved you,” Bianca said.
“Aye, she did,” Knox said. All three brothers nodded in agreement.
“Were you angry with her when she left?” Terrance asked.
“No. Not at all. This wasn’t a place for a beautiful princess. We were sad to see her go, but never angry,” Knox explained.
Bianca was happy to hear that. Did Snow White know how they felt? She liked to think so.
Knox finished his tea and set his mug down on the table.
“Come…follow me,” he said. He grunted as he got out of his chair. “You’ll have to forgive my slowness…these old bones aren’t what they used to be. I am nine hundred and ninety seven years old after all.”
Bianca set her tea aside and followed Knox as he led her up the steps.
“Is it true?” Bianca asked.
“Is what true?”
“That dwarves live until they are a thousand years old.”
“Yes, it’s true.” Knox gave her a single nod.
“Doesn’t it scare you? Knowing that you only have three years left?”
“Death doesn’t frighten me, child. I’m looking forward to being finished with this life. I’ll see my brothers again. I’ll see Snow White once more. I won’t be so tired anymore.”
Bianca had a hard time believing what Knox just said. She had never met anyone that was looking forward to dying. In all honesty, she had never thought about what she would be like twenty years down the road. As far ahead as she was thinking at the moment was her senior year in high school and her eighteenth birthday. But other than that? She had no clue.
Bianca continued to follow Knox up the lopsided stairs. She had to bend a little so her head wouldn’t touch the ceiling. Once they reached the hallway, she studied her surroundings. There were four rooms. Three of them she could peek into, but all she could see was the foot of their beds. The door to the fourth bedroom was closed. That was the room he led her to.
Knox opened the door; it released a soft creak, as though it had been ages since anyone had stepped inside its threshold. It had a higher ceiling than the rest of the cottage. In the middle of the room was a full-size bed with white lace sheets and a single pillow. There was a small night table with a silver candlestick and a single half-burnt white candle. At the foot of the bed was a large wooden trunk. It was a beautiful polished cherry. All Bianca wanted to do was open it and find out what secrets it held.
“This was Snow’s room,” Knox said.
“It’s beautiful.” And Bianca meant it. She was struck by the simplicity of the place. It was elegant. Uncomplicated. Much like the woman that inhabited this space.
“We’ve left it just as it is. We come in every once in a while to dust and clean off the cobwebs.”
He opened the trunk and very carefully placed the items on top of the bed. There was a white dress, a pair of dusty-rose silk slippers, black work boots, a navy-blue and white quilt, and lace gloves that had yellowed with age. Then he tugged on a small piece of rope and revealed a secret hiding place. Patiently, Bianca waited. Knox pulled out a red velvet bag with gold ties.
“Here.” He handed the bag to Bianca.
“What is it?” she asked as she took the bag from him. She couldn’t get over the rich velvet fabric she held in her hands. The fabric felt soft against her fingertips. Bianca had never seen anything so luxurious in her life.
“I don’t know. I’ve never looked inside. She never said what it was or what to do with it. All she told me was that she would return someday to retrieve it. Unfortunately that day never came. And seeing as you’re her kin, I like to think she wouldn’t mind if you had it.”
Knox took the items he had placed on the bed and put them back inside the trunk. He gently closed the lid and walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, leaving Bianca alone to examine the red velvet bag.
She let out a deep sigh. It never ends.
She sat on the corner of the bed. The color on the blood-red bag was still bright. It was as though it had been at the bottom of the trunk for a few days and not a couple of centuries. She undid the knot and emptied the contents on top of the bed.
“Apple seeds,” she whispered.
© Liz DeJesus 2013
June 2, 2013
Book Signing at Barnes and Noble
So I was really nervous about my book signing at Barnes and Noble yesterday. Like...who wouldn't be, you know what I mean? Anyway I did my best to keep calm....listened to Mumford & Sons really loud on my drive to the mall and tried not to sweat profusely. This is the only picture I had time to take:
Why? Oh....because I was crazy busy by the time I got to my table! Sold 2 copies of my book my first 10 minutes there!! Oh and guess what else? I SOLD OUT! SOLD ALL 20 COPIES OF FIRST FROST!!!!
Last one I promise....
Why? Oh....because I was crazy busy by the time I got to my table! Sold 2 copies of my book my first 10 minutes there!! Oh and guess what else? I SOLD OUT! SOLD ALL 20 COPIES OF FIRST FROST!!!!
Last one I promise....
