Daisy Harris's Blog, page 23

MOAR morning kisses!

MOAR morning kisses! 

Morning kisses.

Morning kisses.

Seven Logical Fallacies That Screw Up Your Marketing

If you’re an author, you think about promotion, marketing, and how to make your books successful. Well, I’m here to tell you that the vast majority of what authors believe about book marketing is based on completely false logic. I may not know the RIGHT way to market, but I’m a smart cookie when it comes to spotting things that are wrong.

Here, in 8 step, are the problems with conventional thinking.

1. The idea that you’re working to “make your book successful.” Your book is not human, it has no free will. It can neither succeed or fail. What you want is to convince READERS to buy your book. Start thinking about their needs, not your book’s.

2. The idea that if a person has great sales they must know a lot about selling. Authors sell well for a variety of reasons, that may or may not have to do with marketing savvy. You wouldn’t take diet advice from someone just because they are thin, right? Don’t assume people know what they’re talking about just because they’ve sold well in the past.

3. The idea that you can become successful by gaming the system (Amazon or otherwise.) It’s Godhart’s Law—any loophole will likely close 5 minutes after you notice it’s existence. This going double for weird trends like dinosaur porn.

4. The idea that anyone who criticizes your book wishes you never wrote it. (Or wishes you were never born and that your book will burn in the fiery pits of hell.) Truth is, if someone reviewed your book, that means they READ IT. That makes them more of a fan than the billions of people on the planet who have not read it.

5. The idea that a single failure means your career is going downhill. (Or that a single success means you’re on your way up!) A single success of failure is simply one data point. You need a lot of data points to make judgements about where your career is going.

6. The idea of a finite readership. Authors act like we are fighting for readers, and that the same readers we had yesterday are the ones reading today. In my experience, many readers binge on one author and move on. And there are always more readers looking for a good book.

7. The idea that all readers “count” the same. Readers are different. Some people will only ever read free books. That’s their gig and they are not moving from their price point of 0. Some people pirate things, and they are never, ever going to pay you money. Some people only read KU titles, or only read certain publishers. You didn’t “lose” money because someone bought your book for 99 cents instead of 2.99. That same person likely never would have paid 2.99.

Anyway, hope these ideas are helpful. I wanted to get them down on paper before I forgot. Happy marketing!

-D

Costco, Mindfulness, and Making Peace with a Four-Foot Pack of Toilet Paper

So, I got a Costco Membership yesterday. Yeah, I know——you’re thinking, “It’s about time!” But really, my family had a Costco membership years ago when the kids were toddlers. After about a year with the membership, I found we didn’t save any money and our house was crammed with uneaten food.

More to the point, I discovered that we had a Grocery Outlet right near my house (as opposed to Costco which is 30-45 mins away) and if I really wanted to get stuff on mark-down, I was better off shopping at Grocery Outlet.

Here’s the thing, though… Years of watching our spending on groceries rise and fall has proven to me one thing: that being mindful saves a lot more money than buying in bulk.

Sure, buying a case of canned tomatoes for 70 cents a piece is great. But that only contributes to the problem I have of opening a can of tomatoes, using the 1/2 that’s required in the recipe I’m making, and then forgetting that the rest of the can is in the fridge until the time comes to throw it out. If I’m only using 1/2 of each can, those tomatoes are costing me 1.40 a can, not 70 cents, and I may as well have bought them one by one from the little grocery store down the street from my house.

Some people can handle buying in bulk. Those who are organized, and who like keeping track of all their belongings. Those who remember to write dates on things and rotate their cupboards…

Bulk shopping also makes sense for people who live nowhere near a store. If you’re only driving to town a couple times a month or less, of course you need to stock up.

City living is different. I can get food practically anywhere. And I’ve found it’s stupid to buy more than minimal lunch stuff because hardly anyone in my family ever eats lunch at home.

So, you’re probably asking why I got a Costco membership… The answer is travel. We probably shouldn’t use the membership at home, but when we travel we go places where there aren’t a whole lot of places to buy things *besides* Costco. Namely, we have family and friends in Hawaii, and unless you’re in Honolulu there isn’t really a lot of regular shopping in Hawaii.

Yeah, there are resort communities, but those are deliberately expensive. And regular grocery stores here are incredibly expensive. Costco, miraculously, only charges in Hawaii what they do on the mainland. No wonder most people we know who live here buy practically everything from Costco.

Here’s the thing, though… I’ve asked friends here how they cope with waste. Can they really eat that ten-pound pork tenderloin?

The answer I most often get is that even if they only eat 3 pounds of the meat, it’s still cheaper to buy from Costco and throw the rest out. Hm.

Now, I never ever judge what people do when they’re on a budget. For plenty of people I know savings totally outweigh any guilt over waste and I don’t blame them. But for me, I don’t like throwing stuff out.

I Just. Don’t. Like it.

Example: my family is all grumpy at me because I cut down the “snack” area in the cupboard to only one shelf. But do you know what’s on that shelf?? HALF-EATEN bags of potato chips and candy from holidays and birthdays long past.

If they want a snack so very badly, maybe they should *finish the freaking bag of chips they started* rather than expect me to use my kitchen as a warehouse for every type and brand of chips and cookies imaginable. While they’re at it, they could eat the fruit they bought. Open the freezer and dig out that instant lunch they bought, or god-forbid get out a can opener and make themselves a cup of soup.

I’m lucky. I know I’m lucky. I’m blessed that these are my problems. It’s a gift that my worst food worry is that people in my household are repeatedly buying things like cherries in the middle of fucking December and then eating only half of them…

**takes a deep breath**

**finding my Zen place**

Back in high school, I dated someone from Japan, which forever influenced by way of looking at the world. So many things about Japanese culture resounded with me, but a funny thing I remember was how my friend said his father told them as kids they were only allowed to use ONE TISSUE of toilet paper to wipe.

Not even kidding. He actually went with me to the bathroom and showed me now to fold the toilet paper for maximum absorption. See, he didn’t want his parents to hate me for being “that girl who uses up all our toilet paper.”

Now, when I talk about this kind of restriction, people assume the people who conserved toilet paper were poor. Nope. Not even a little. The dad was a successful businessman. They just didn’t like to waste stuff.

My husband is from Michigan and I’ve been treated on occasion to stories about wiping with newspaper during the great depression. (My depression era relatives were too uptight to ever discuss toileting, though I’m sure they did the same.) Somehow, to my Michigan relatives though, conserving toilet paper is an insult to relatives who suffered so we could wipe our asses in peace.

(Not that our grandparents wiped with newspaper in order to provide us with toilet paper in the future. More that somehow the fact that we now have toilet paper means we should use ALL the toilet paper. Saving a few bucks here and there by using less is positively un-American.)

The funny thing is, when I think about the things I actually would buy at Costco, toilet paper jumps to the top of the list. Up there were dish soap and clothes washing detergent. But I know for a fact that having more toilet paper will not mean we save (much) money. Simply that we will use more toilet paper. With no reason to conserve, I’ll ball up the paper in my hand rather than folding it over mindfully. Ditto dish soap. As it is now, when I start running low on dish soap, I add water to what I have left. I make do for a few days until I *need* more dish soap, at which point I buy it.

With a cupboard full of dish soap, it’s all too easy to just grab a new bottle, and toss away the remains in the old bottle. Like the mostly-eaten cereal, potato chips and cookies cluttering my kitchen, these mostly-used bottles will cram full my recycling or worse—stay on the counter while I tell myself I’ll finish that last little bit but never do.

Multiply this by shampoo, soap, conditioner, etc and you can see I’m talking about a lot of waste, all because I can’t handle the uncertainty of waiting until I’m actually done with something to buy more of it.

The decluttering expert Marie Kondo says that we have two reasons for keeping stuff we don’t need: attachment to the past and fear of the future. Stockpiling from Costco is all about the latter fear. Maybe, we think, if we have an entire garage full of toilet paper, we won’t worry about someday being poor. Or perhaps it’s better to say that maybe if I wipe my ass with handfuls of TP instead of a few sheets, I’ll feel rich enough to protect me against an uncertain future.

I’m not a personal financial advisor, but I find it hard to imagine that anyone ever saved themselves from financial ruin by having a solid wall of toilet paper. But fear is a funny thing. It doesn’t have reason. So, who am I to criticize how others deal with their worries?

All I can control are my own fears, and that includes my fear of Costco. I know the way my desires kick up the moment I enter the giant store. There’s so much! And it’s so cheap! I can haz ALL THE THINGS!!! Anything I ever thought about buying for five minutes and decided I didn’t need enough to spend the money, I can now have and store forever unused in my garage!!

Yesterday, I managed to walk in and out of Costco only spending 100 dollars. That’s a win for me. A major win. We bought a chicken, a bottle of wine, make up wipes and a multi-pack of razors.

The wine is half-drank (though I will finish it tonight.) The chicken half-eaten, and I have my doubts as to whether we will finish that one. There are make up wipes EVERYWHERE in Fashion’s bathroom, though granted that’s always the case. Granted, I’m sure the husband will actually use his razors.

Still, I’m tempted to insist we finish everything we bought before we are allowed to go back. I’m sure I’ll fail in that fight. With regards to our kitchen, I’m *always* trying to get us to finish what’s in the fridge before we shop again. Not only does my family insist there is “no food” when there is still plenty, but even I struggle with remembering to eat everything we have.

I’ve canvassed to get a smaller refrigerator to combat this problem, to which my husband always laughs his ass off.

Believe it or not, I’m well aware that my desire to have less in incredibly privileged. I’m lucky to have so much I feel overwhelmed by it. Being able to throw away things rather than adding water, or folding over sheets of TP puts me in the ridiculously wealthy section of the world’s people.

And yet, what’s the point of having wealth if you don’t appreciate it? Can I be grateful to be able to wipe my ass with toilet paper instead of newspaper if I am buying four feet tall bags of TP every time I got to Costco?

I don’t know. Costco card in hand, I’m willing to see if I can find out. But spirit-of-Buddha help me, we are going to *finish* that toilet paper before we buy another fucking bag.

Namaste, bitches.

Daisy

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A Brand New Year!

I have one thing to say to 2014: fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

2014, in my book, was not the best year ever. (And yes, that’s Seattleite understatement.) Both my dogs died, one of them dramatically and tragically. I had a slew of personal problems that completely derailed my writing. My older daughter turned 12, suddenly needing me much less and making my realize I won’t have my babies forever. I dealt with self-doubt, writer’s block, changing one of my kids’ schools mid-year, and a round of the worst depression I’ve ever had in my life…

And yet…

In the end, I totally kicked 2014′s ass. My Christmas short, David’s Selfie, ended up being my best selling book of all time. I rebounded from my pet loss by adopting a shelter dog and also reserving a puppy for the new year. I learned to go to bat for my kids in their schools, and to cope with having a near-teen. And though it was a long, hard, grueling process, I wrote my first young adult title——and my longest work to date——which I’m going to self-publish (something I’d sworn I’d never do!)

Oh, yeah, and I decluttered my entire house and garage, learning a new system for organizing my things.

This year may have sucked in a lot of ways, but I ended the year stronger, braver and smarter than I started. I’m more mindful, grateful and confident than I was at the end of 2013. And isn’t that awesome?

As for 2015, I say, “Bring it!” Whatever this year has in store, I’m sure I’ll only come out better for it.

As for what’s coming up publishing-wise…

The final Fire and Rain book, Ghost in the Flames, will come out in either July or August. I’ll have the exact date soon, and will keep everyone posted.

Then in September I’ll be publishing Julius Drake and the Phantom Girlfriend, which is the first in my new Julius Drake series. My goal is to publish the second Julius Drake title within a month or two of the first one. But I have to write a second Julius Drake before I know what my exact schedule will be.

So, three books is the most I’ll have coming out in 2015, which isn’t the greatest. However, considering that in April I was ready to throw in the towel and give up writing altogether, I’d say getting three books out in 2015 will be a huge achievement.

I hope you guys like Julius Drake and his partner in crime, Henry Walker. They’re some of my favorite characters to date, and I look forward to writing lots of adventures for them, and for you.

Thanks for sticking by me, readers. And I hope you have a great 2015!

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Thank you, fans!!!!!

As the year comes to an end, I need to thank all my fans and readers who’ve made this such an amazing year. I’ve always written from the heart—because I love stories and my characters, and even the feeling of keys clicking under my fingers. Writing is my love, and the sales part is just a happy side effect.

That said, I love it when people read and enjoy my books. When a person sits down to spend a few hours in a world I’ve created, that’s a huge leap of trust. I can’t tell you how humbled I am to be trusted by so many of you.

This year had been not only a great one sales-wise, but I’ve also been nominated for two Goodreads M/M Romance Member Choice Awards. One is for David’s Selfie, my Christmas short that just released this week, and the other is for all-time favorite author. I’m so thrilled to have been nominated!

So, THANKS! Thanks for coming on my journeys and reading my books and for supporting M/M Romance. You guys are the best.

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Butthurt Nation

I’ve been thinking a lot lately of the prayer of St. Francis. Now, I’m not religious. If anything, I’ve more and more embraced a self-identity as an atheist. However, this prayer (which I learned in a song version in Episcopal preschool) contains some messages that I think are more important today than ever:

O Master, Grant that I may never seek;

As much to be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love with all my so-o-oul.

What does the prayer of St Francis have to do with being butthurt? I’m getting there—I swear.

In my lefty, liberal, culturally sensitive world lately, I’ve noticed a tendency of people to create videos, art, blog posts aimed to highlight inequality, prejudice and various isms that are overlooked in day to day life. This includes the video of street harassment in New York City, the recent series of photos showing how people look at an overweight woman, an article on the death of an atheist and anti-war activist, and a poster campaign in the hip neighborhood near where I live that critiques the gentrification and “straightification” of the area.

Here’s the thing—some of these critical works I agree with, and some I don’t. BUT…I wonder… When people create art-as-illustration for how they feel objectified or hurt, does this art have the intended effect? Does it reach the people it’s intended to reach? Assuming art aims at social change—is this art really changing society?

When I saw the video of the woman being catcalled in New York City, I felt a jolt of familiarity. Yes. I’ve felt that pain and humiliation. Her butthurt was my butthurt. However, the backlash against the video included scores and scores of men feeling butthurt. And I know the standard thought is that any man who’s defensive must be an asshole.

But, I ask you, really?

Is it possible that some men who felt defensive were just normal guys. Maybe ones with their own problems who’ve experienced their own insults and injuries? More to the point—is this video actually going to stop anyone from catcalling? None of the guys I know catcall. They’re all nice, feminist type guys. But some of them did get defensive. Moreover, a woman I really like and agree with about a lot of things thought the video was dumb. I disagreed, but why were we even having the disagreement? Who cares?? If two women in progressive Seattle disagree over how hurt a person should be about catcalling—what does this actually have anything to do with sexism?

Nothing. Seriously, nothing. It doesn’t help women in abusive relationships. It doesn’t grant anyone birth control or abortion rights. All it does is stir up even more butthurt, between people who actually agree with each other.

Ditto the photo series about the overweight woman being given the stink eye. Personally, I thought a lot of people just happened to look at her, and I didn’t really see any judgement in most glances. I have no idea how people look at me when I pass because I’ve never thought to photograph them without their permission. And I tend to think that other peoples’ opinions of me are none of my business.

However, I do think it’s horrendous how the obese are underserved by the medical community. I certainly don’t think anyone deserves to be shamed for how they look. In most areas that matter, I AGREE with people who would look at those series of photos and see hatred and scorn. What do I really disagree with them about? The expressions on faces of people in photos. And seriously, how much does that matter? Bickering over whether some stranger in a photograph is frowning, smirking or just resting their eyes is an idiotic waste of time.

When people express butthurt, they almost never hit the target they aim for. Like, this article I read about the death of an atheist took issue with how his obituary decided to say he was looking down from heaven.

Now…is that annoying? Yeah. Maybe a little. Is it outrageous? Incendiary? Enough to get butthurt over? No.

Why? Because religious people are really not going to understand how Christening a person post-mortem is insulting. And the rest of the people…honestly don’t give a shit. The only people who are going to read this article are atheists.

If Atheists want more recognition, they need to get more organized. They need to form groups, create a unified message, explain and promote their stance in a way that others can understand and respect. In other words, Atheists need to stop complaining and instead do something useful. That’s the thing about online butthurt: it doesn’t DO anything. It just undoes things.

My latest problem with butthurtedness has come from a campaign in an area close to where I live. Some of the businesses and residents have decided they don’t want straight people mucking up their bars and clubs. Now, I can understand this to a point. Some gay clubs have gotten seriously overrun so they are more straight than gay, In the case of one place I know, it’s small—so if a group of 5-6 straight people get on the dancefloor at the same time, it can feel like the gay clientele have been pushed to the side.

Apparently, some of the straight people are rude, aggressive and homophobic—I’ve never seen this, but I’m sure it happens. As a result, some of the bars and clubs have updated their signage discourage straight patrons.

“No hipsters, bridesmaids, assholes, homophobes, princesses, trust fund kids…” is how a lot of signs are phrased. And my least favorite, “We came here to get away from you.”

The problem is, no one self-identifies as an “asshole.” Ditto hipsters. Actual hipsters never think they are hipsters. In fact, I’d argue that most people who would put up a sign saying, “No hipsters” are themselves hipsters.

I’m all for signage that tells people they are in a GAY bar, and to behave accordingly. However, when you vent your frustration via an all-emcompassing sign, you have to realize a lot of people are going to feel your anger who are not actually your target.

Like me. I’ve lived in or near the area for 20 years and am a lifelong supporter of gay rights. Despite being an advocate (or more likely BECAUSE of it) my feelings are hurt by these signs. And that’s sad, because the people who posted the signs probably don’t aim to hurt me. At least, I don’t think they do.

They want to hurt *someone*, and the anger bubbles over. It creates a divide where there really isn’t one. Here’s where the Prayer of St. Francis comes in.

In this world, everyone is clamoring to be heard, to be appreciated, and more than anything to be UNDERSTOOD. Art, signs and blog posts all beg, “Hear me! Understand me! Tell me I’m right!”

What if, for a a little while, we all followed the advice in the Prayer of St. Francis? Instead of screaming to be understood, we took a step back and tried to understand one another. Instead of demanding love at gunpoint, we could work on spreading love.

There is sexism in this world. And homophobia, fat shaming, fear of atheists… All these ills exist and need to be addressed. But we’ll address problems a lot better as friends than as enemies. Splitting hairs never got anyone anywhere.

My goal for the next week is to not get butthurt. I’ll spend twice as long trying to understand other people than I do trying to get them to understand me.

I bet if we all tried that, the world a better place.

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Gays, Gays, Gays…

My apologies to Max Vos, because as far as I know, he’s a lovely person. One off-color blog post does not a villain make. But you gotta admit, the post on Love Bytes was just asking to be skewered, and I just can’t help myself. so, here goes…

Gays, gays, gays… I know you have man parts and are men yourselves, but the truth is, I don’t think you really understand men. At least, not insofar as how to catch one and make him marry you. Now that marriage equality is legal in over half the states in America, I’m sure many of you are wondering, “How can I find a husband of my own?”

Few of you, however, have thought to ask The Laydees. Those lovely hags and fruit flies who flit around in your world are a veritable cornucopia of information on husband-nabbing and man-wrangling! We ladies have been tricking, seducing and generally manipulating men into spending their lives with us for generations.

Now, you can, too!

The first thing you need to know about men is that they they like their egos stroked. No, not *that* ego! I’m talking about the ego between their legs. But it’s not enough to touch and fondle that oh-so-important part about them. You have to compliment them on it. See, men need compliments like Nicki Minaj needs silicone. Keep your man’s ego primed, and he’ll never leave your side.

You can compliment him on his job, his car, or his looks, but nothing will make him your love slave as clearly as kind words about his penis. All men love to be told how big and hard it is. Especially in the company of others. Next time you’re with friends, find ways to slip into conversation things about your intended’s manhood.

“Wow, this creme brulee is immense.”

“Not as immense as Greg’s penis!”

“Did you visit the Sistine Chapel on your trip. I heard it’s gorgeous.”

“Not as gorgeous as Peter’s penis!”

Men love this! Especially when you break convention and slip these kind of sweet words into conversations with family, teachers, or your local clergy. Thanksgiving dinners are a great time to let all your loved ones know—your partner had a truly magnificent penis.

Now, just telling him he’s enormously hung may not be enough to sweeten the deal… Men are simple creatures. Without your help, they won’t know what to actually DO with their penis.

Help them understand by deep throating any cylindrical piece of food you can find. Hot dogs, lollipops, ice cream cones, small loaves of bread—all can (and should!) be inserted into your throat in your man’s presence. That way he knows you’re classy.

See, men want a woman (or man) they can respect. That’s why you should put “Down to Fuck” on your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Snap Chat profiles. Better yet, get a t-shirt and wear it whenever you’re with your man. Don’t be scared to show you’re man you’re DTF at the opera, at concerts, and at funerals.

Finally, men are visual creatures. Words alone won’t tell him where he’s supposed to stick it. That’s why you should send close ups of your butthole, larynx and any sex toys you own to any man you find attractive. Don’t be shy! You don’t need to have spoken to a guy to send him a photo of your taint. Men love those kind of surprises from strangers. Nothing says “lifelong partner” than an anonymous close up of a Prince Albert.

What if your guy does’t have a smartphone, you ask, or if he has blocked your number? Don’t let that discourage you. That’s why God invented printers. Take all those lovely pics from your phone, print them out and fold them into paper cranes to give to the object of your affection. Better yet, hand them out as party favors at your next soiree!

Because, gay men, you never know where you’ll find your soulmate.

#HashtagIAmGoingToHell

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Never Edit Angry

It’s not often that I blog writing advice, because everyone has their process and what works for one author might backfire for another. However, this advice I’m about to give you I believe with my whole heart:

Never edit angry.

Or perhaps it’s better said, “Never edit depressed.” Unhappy, anxious, sad, angry—these are not good emotional states from which to try and analyze your work. Anger makes us impulsive and depression zaps self-confidence. Either one is bound to lead you to make poor choices in what you cut or add to your manuscript. If you’re like me you can forget what was good about your story in the first place.

Case in point——Fire and Rain 5, aka Rick’s story. I’ve been working on this on and off for almost two years, but I took it on as a project for real this January. Writing went fine until I got clocked with the worst depression I’ve ever had in my life.

A combination a traumatic personal events and having been switched to a completely ineffective antidepressant and… Man, I was a mess. There were days I couldn’t leave my house, or my neighborhood. Heck, even my bed. My whole family suffered. One of the worst aspects of this, though, was how badly depression led me to sabotaged my own writing.

I’d breeze through 20 thousand words in a few days, only to tear it to shreds in revisions until their was nothing left of the story but bloody bits. Halfway through drafting, I’d forget what my point was, and stare into space for hours. With Rick, I wrote a first draft full of passion and emotion. Then, in revisions, I whittled it down to a bland, thready husk.

Finally, I gave up.

Realizing I’d never get traction until I got some distance, I opted to write something totally different. Young adult. Under a different name.

See—Daisy Harris might have been a shattered woman, but my YA-writing self was hopeful and chipper. After all, who says dissociation and compartmentalization* are negative coping mechanisms?! Sometimes, when you have a lot to cope with, compartmentalization is the only thing helping a girl get through the day.

I spent the better part of summer and fall writing a kick-ass young adult novel in which I faced my every writing demon. (First person! Strong Villain! No sex! Full length!). Having done that, I was ready to face the revisions I needed to make Rick shine.

The only problem is, I’m working from a later draft of Rick, one where I’d nailed down my plot, but I’d removed large sections of backstory and emotion. Every time I think I’m done, I realize there is a section that WAS there, but that I deleted in a wild-eyed fit of self-flagellation.

Sure, I saved previous versions, but it’s this never ending slog to find the pieces of text I need amidst piles of manuscripts all labeled something useless. I really should have started revising not with the most recent version I had, but with my first draft, before I’d chopped the thing to pieces.

My whole writing career, I’ve been a slash-and-burn reviser. I’m fearless in cutting and always willing to re-think a manuscript. For years, I could trust my gut and never look back.

The problem is, some things destroy judgment. Depression, PMS, post-traumatic stress disorder, even just being really pissed off—-all of these make it so the world you’re seeing isn’t necessarily the real one.

So, yeah. Don’t edit upset. Don’t edit angry, or sad or anxious. Believe me, you’ll be happy you waited until you were in a better mood!

Hope this is useful to some of you writer-types. And for those of you fans who stuck with me through the trials of this year—THANKS. Your emails and tweets and kind words meant more to me than I can say.

Cheers,

Daisy

*For those of you who weren’t psych majors—Dissociation is the ability of the mind to separate and compartmentalize thoughts, memories, and emotions. This can range from something as mild as daydreaming to more serious detachment from emotional or physical experience—aka, what people think of as out of body experience or dissociative personality disorder. We’re writers, though. A little multiple personality disorder is par for the course.

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Cheers and Squeals for November Rain!!

I can’t tell you all how happy I am about the reception November Rain has gotten. My fans totally rule!!!!!!

Thanks, you guys for making November Rain an Amazon and All Romance eBooks bestseller!

Also, thanks to all the reviewers who took the time to read and comment on my work. In particular, thanks to the folks at Dark Divas Reviews for making November Rain a Recommended Read!

Hugs to all you guys for making November Rain such a success. You’re who I do this crazy writing gig for and I’m go glad when I get to make you happy.

Cheers,

Daisy

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