Alex Laybourne's Blog, page 84

ROW80: A Belated and Rather Confused Check-In

I must offer my apologies, to those of you that so look forward to my ROW updates. I have been rather bad these last couple of weeks, and last week missed both check-ins. Please, forgive me.

The last week was a crazy one for me. I made great progress on the editing of Trials and Tribulations and was getting excited about having everything ready and finished before I headed to the UK on holiday. Then, along came Friday and my writing world got turned upside-down, and now all of my ROW80 goals have been kind of shattered. But for the very best of reasons.

As I am sure most of you have already heard, from my social media bellows, I have agreed a two book deal with May December Publications. This will be for a re-edited and re-released version of Highway to Hell (release date set for End 2012) and for its sequel Trials and Tribulations (Early 2013)

This meant that, not only are my plans to release Trials this month now out of the window (again, for all of the right reasons) but my sales plans have changed because I do not need to pursue active sales currently because Highway has been pulled from general sale pending the re-release.

This gives me the perfect chance, a second chance nonetheless to get my sales pitch perfected.

On another positive front, it would seem that I cannot stop my mind from creating new ideas. Just this week I put the wheels in motion to a rather large-scale 10 book series. This will be a serious work, not horror related at all.

Also, I have a 5 (or 6) book horror series for children in my mind, and an idea for two new general horror novels, which will be added to the list I already have.  I have more than enough to keep me writing the next few decades, and that is at a rate of 2 books a year. Now I just need to write them all down so I don’t forget haha.

How are all of you doing on this ROW80 2012 adventure?

There is no other way to say this than….

I cannot believe it, my week has just hit an all time uber fantastic high.

 

I have just agreed a two book deal with May December Publications!!! That’s right. Two books have been agreed. Highway to Hell will be re-edited and republished late in 2012, and the sequel is set for early 2013.

I am, for once in my life, utterly speechless!!! so I will let the cartoon express what I am feeling.

 

Can You Get Something For Nothing?

Being a writer, is not necessarily about how well you can write, but rather, how well you can sell yourself.

This isn’t exactly a new concept, I mean ask anybody in a sales related profession. It isn’t the product, so much has how you sell it that counts. Sure, a solid product helps, but without the Gift of the Gab,you will not come very far.

In other posts I have spoken about my own inability to sell my books. It would seem that I am just not a salesperson, but it is not just an inability to promote myself effectively that is my hindrance.  Financially, I am not in a position to sell my books. Why? Because I do not have so much as a Euro cent to invest in it. Every cent / penny / cent that I earn goes to either the bills, groceries or the kids.

I am sure I am not alone in this respect, and I have made the personal decision to not have any credit cards, or loans of any kind. So technically I am 100% debt free, which in itself, and in the present day is for some, about as wealthy as it gets.

Yet, as a 100% self published author, I have nobody else but me to fall back on and help generate sales. What this means is, I have to find out effective ways of marketing a book for free. By that, I do not mean small expenditures, or the even the $5 it takes to have my book listed on a few Internet sites I have found. I mean, I need to find ways  of selling that cost absolutely zero.

It is certainly not an easy task.

The more I think about, the best free promotion is through Social Media. Twitter is my main marketing platform. While I like Facebook, I just don’t know how to successfully market on it. It is something I will have to learn.

Other than this however I am lost. I am not a natural socializer, and while virtual interactions are much easier – dare I say more enjoyable – for me, it remains something I have to work hard at.

Some people may read or interpret this post as being a Pity Me sort of outcry, but please understand, it is anything but. I would rather think of it the same as those time back in school when everybody sat there thinking the same question, but nobody was willing to stand up and ask it. To make their in-abilities public and risk the ridicule of the class, only for them to turn around and breath a collective sigh of relief.

Times are hard, and a great many families live paycheck to paycheck, and I do not have the luxury of being able to call writing my main source of income. So where does that leave me. We all know, and it has been said by pretty much every blogger that ever existed, that writers write. We need to, it is just who we are as people. But sales, that is a different kettle of fish altogether. Yet, to revert to my opening statement, being a writer in current times, especially a self published writer, is not about being a writer. Not anymore.

Just think about how easy it is to publish a book. Not the whole drafting, writing, editing, writing, editing roundabout that writers go through, but the act of publishing in itself. Upload a file. The is it in a nutshell. There are so many books out there, that the selling has to become the main prerogative of a writer, simply because we have to shout that much louder to have our voice heard.

So tell me friends, writers, transient visitors who found this page by chance, how do you promote your work. Do you pay for it, or are you working on a budget of zero. In search of a way to promote yourself that will allow you to focus on what it is your love, writing the books that you need to sell.

It is a kind of double-edged sword really. The more you love writing, the more you need to write, the more you will inevitably produce, but then, the pressure to sell increases. Do you think it is easier to sell two books than it is one… now there is a post for tomorrow.

 

 

That Monday Feeling

“I have something I need to tell you”

 ”What is it my Love?”

  “Well, according to this calendar… It’s Monday”

 “JESUS WEPT”

Have a great week everybody!

 

Trials and Tribulations: A Sneak Peek

As a special Sunday treat, I am proud to be able to share with you the opening pages of my upcoming second novel, Trials and Tribulations.

Picking up where Highway to Hell left off, this second installment sees Marcus, Becky, Helen, Graham and Sammy set off on an adventure through Hell. Their target is Richard, who himself is lost, wandering a desert land, alone… or is he.

Trials and Tribulations

Chapter 1

Richard had no idea how long he had been walking. No matter what direction he looked in, all he saw was sand. A rolling golden yellow ocean of sand, which made Richard feel intensely seasick. The surface was rippled by the strong gusts of wind that blew with a rhythm as regular as a heartbeat. It carved undulating dunes that somehow managed to roll in opposite directions. The effect created, was one that confused the mind and churned the stomach.

Since Richard had started walking, the argumentative voice in his head had been silenced. The itch in his crotch had also disappeared, although he was yet to actually look between his legs to check. He was terrified to look down and discover his genitals were still mangled and disfigured. Not that he had much use for them anymore. He hadn’t seen another living soul since Jizo – that short little monk – had dropped him off in the middle of nowhere. Richard had already decided that if he saw him again he would kick his ass.

Richard’s pace was slow, but he still stopped to rest. He looked back the way he had travelled. As always, his heart half hoped for a marker, anything that would give him an idea of the distance he had travelled. There was nothing. Not even any footsteps receding into the distance. The desert absorbed every trace of his presence. Richard looked around; the road beneath him was hard. The soles of his feet were broken and raw, his ankles swollen. His toes had begun to turn the color of a fresh bruise. So long as he kept moving, the ground didn’t seem to be that hot, but the moment his forward motion stopped, the desert floor caught fire and seared his flesh as if he stood on an acetylene torch.

Another gust of wind came through the world, this one harder than the others. It would be the first of five. Richard had been there long enough to learn this. First came one strong blast, then three breaths of wind, each one colder and gentler than the last, and finally a firmer gust would whistle around him. The Howler; that was what Richard had named it. For despite the barren surroundings, this final gust of wind managed to produce a howl eerily like that of a pack of wolves standing high up on the rocks, calling to the full moon that hung above their heads.

Richard looked up at the sun. It was directly overhead. He could feel its heat pounding his body. It seared his flesh, yet he didn’t burn. His once youthful face was gone. The features that made him cute while alive – and were destined to be classed handsome once adulthood came along – had withered. The skin of his face had leathered and wrinkled. It had taken on a tired look. The elderly look of a man used to working the land rather than a boy used to private school and with a boardroom based future.

Richard’s once short and well-kept brown hair had been bleached to a near white by the sun, and now hung in dirty strands that extended down close to his shoulders.

Day and night no longer existed as individual states. The sun moved in the sky, but only very little. Even when it did shift in its axis, there was no noticeable change in temperature, clouds were nonexistent. Richard had concluded that they simply didn’t exist in this world; in this Hell. The result was, that Richard hadn’t slept for, well, given his desolate surroundings he had no idea, but judging by the thick beard that covered his face, he had been walking for at least three weeks. His body was near skeletal; his frame muscular yet weak.

There had been a few plants growing in the sand along the path which Richard had eaten. He had swallowed them greedily at first, only to throw them back up before they had reached his stomach. In the end he picked them, and chewed the leaves like gum. Sometimes he would swallow the bitter tasting vegetation, but when he started to feel nauseous he would stop. Richard worked the ball of cud between his teeth. He would create a rhythm between chews and his footsteps. It offered him a distraction when the heat got too much and his vision blurred. He suffered from blackouts, when the heat became too much, his world turned white. It was as if he stared at a naked light-bulb. It wasn’t natural light that he saw but something much more artificial. When Richard came too, he had found that he had continued walking; he staggered like a drunk making his way home on a Friday night. His footsteps in the burning sand would be evident at random intervals, showing where he had strayed from the path. His feet would blister from the heat. If he stood for too long, his skin sizzled, as if on a barbeque grill. Once, Richard had come too with his feet buried ankle deep in sand, almost a quarter mile from the road. By the time he made it back to the path, his feet were burnt to the point of bleeding. The skin peeled away like that of a roasted pepper. Yet, even then, he had continued to move; crawling on his hands and knees. He was driven by the simply knowledge that there had to be something up ahead. Just over the next rise, or behind the dune to his right; a town, a hut, anything. The plants had stopped growing about a week before, if Richards’s stubble based calculations were even vaguely accurate. His water supply had been absent even longer. Once, Richard had found a small pool by the side of the road. He had just pulled up a large plant, and there it was, in the sand. Richard remembered it even now, because the plant had tasted much sweeter than the other leaves he had eaten. But that had been a long time ago. What little water he had been able to extract from the pool had long since passed through his system.

Richard felt his legs begin to shake. He had been standing still for too long, and his body was beginning to recognize the fatigue that should have brought his journey to a halt long ago. He licked his lips. They were dry and cracked. His tongue was as rough as a cat’s. Richard winced as he started to move again. His joints sent lightning bolts of pain shooting through his body into his brain. His knees, his hips, his lower back and shoulders, they were all burning with a pain that reminded him of his time bound to the bed; his time with the lady in white, and her many faces. She was always with him, he understood that. Richard didn’t think it strange he was taken by a white light when he felt weak. It was her; she was reaching out to him, embracing him and holding him close to her bosom, burying his face between her ample breasts, suffocating him until he was ready to return to his body.

Fighting against the pain, Richard found himself gaining momentum once more. He lurched forward with stiff, robotic steps; something akin to Frankenstein’s monster in the early Universal films. The road had begun to slope upwards now. It was not a steep incline, rather a gentle rise that took Richard to the crest of his current dune. Somewhere, in the back of Richards mind, was a voice telling him that he had made the wrong choice. A constant whisper that chided him for not having chosen the path that headed West; the path of the snake. “It was my choice. I decided.” He muttered to himself. It was a rather unsettling habit that he had picked up.

Richard reached the top of the slope just as the final gust in the series swept through. It helped to propel him forward, and carried him those final few paces to the top of the sandy wave. What he saw caused him to collapse to his knees. The road split the skin like a piece of overripe fruit. Richard didn’t feel the pain. It had become as good as impossible for him to separate each individual ache. Instead, he had just accepted that everything hurt.

His body had been so abused by the elements that no matter what happened, blood no longer flowed from his wounds.

Kneeling on the hardened ground Richard saw the path fall away from him like the tracks on a rollercoaster. It plummeted at a near violent degree. I can’t keep my balance for that. He thought to himself as he stared at the steep slope.

Only one thing for it then, turn back, give up. An unwelcome and unexpected voice spoke up in his head. Although, as far as Richard was concerned, the owner of the voice stood beside him. He could see him as clear as day. It was himself. Not the gaunt, bearded nomad he had become, but rather a well-dressed, rich looking man, one who clearly enjoyed the good life. He stood beside Richard. He leant forward, his hands resting on his knees, arms supporting the weight of his upper body. He whispered into Richard’s ear. Richard shook his head. It’s a trick. I just need to find a drink that’s all. It’s just in my head. He told himself. It made him feel nauseous, and his head began to pound. When he opened his eyes, his projected self was gone. He was alone again. Although he knew the other one was there. He was stuck inside his head just waiting for the chance to come back out. He tried hard to bury it.

Richard turned his attention back to the world before him. His jaw dropped, he couldn’t help it. The desert still stretched ahead of him, an endless sea of tidal dunes. However, it was what sat at the foot of the long slope that held Richards immediate attention. It was a small copse of trees. They bordered a small body of water. It was not much larger than a garden pond. Its surface shimmered, and reflected the light as if it were filled with diamonds of the purest cut. Beyond that, as if the sight of water and shelter was not enough to over load his mind, Richard also saw a line of camels. Had they not been walking in such a neat formation, he would have thought them a wild herd. They were too far away for him to see it, but Richard just knew that there were people with them. People who lived in the desert, in these conditions. He hoped that maybe, just maybe they would be able to help him.

Richard waved his arms in the air. In the vain hope that one of the people who were too far away from him to even see, would look in his direction. They would of course need much better eyesight that he had, but in this strange world of endless days and flying green scorpions, he figured that anything was possible.

If you have’t already Read Highway to Hell, you can grab your copy for just 99 cents from Amazon or Smashwords

Highway to Hell

ROW80: The Week in Review 06.05.2012

Another week has passed us by, and it was by far my busiest week this year. Not only in terms of writing, or should I say, sadly not in terms of writing alone. Real life grabbed hold and ran away with me over the last seven days, and you know what… I had a great time.

Monday was Queensday and just a day of celebration and general fun. Tuesday I had to work, but my wife was out in the evening, and so I had a long editing session. Wednesday saw my wife and I head to Belgium for the NKOTBSB concert. (She is the fan, not me) and I will happily admit that it was a great show and a truly wonderful day. Thursday and Friday were working days, but the good times from the start of the week kept on rolling through, and into, the weekend.

On the writing front, my editing is going well. I am kind of fed up with it now, but it is the final round. I am super excited to see it finished, but refuse to rush or get sloppy.

Out of all of my goals, this is the one I have focused on the ost for obvious reasons. I have read everyday, but still cannot get into the book I am reading. Not to mention that the author changed character names for a page or two. That didn’t help my indifference to the novel.

I have had a couple of ideas for potential novels / short stories in the last couple of days. Rather, I have had some developmental thoughts on a couple of existing ideas. It felt good.

I have set myself the preliminary deadline of May 15th for the editing, that then gives me two weeks to tidy up, and get the formatting done, ready for a May 31st release. That is also my birthday and it seems like a nice idea to me to have a release on the same day. I have a little bit to do still, but a couple of good sessions and I am sure I can hit the dates.

That’s pretty much it for this week. There is little over two weeks before my holiday to England, or rather, my trip back home to visit my family. My eldest son is super excited about it, and has a calendar that he is diligently crossing the days off every morning. It will be a nice and very welcome break. Plus, if my editing is done, I can actually treat myself to a complete rest… well, maybe, or at least not get up so early to write but rather just enjoy some gentle plotting moments.

How was your week? Did you get everything done that you wanted to? Are you on target or playing catch up. I know the great thing about ROW80 is that you can move the goalposts to suit your situation, but has anybody had to do that this round so far?

It is Important to Learn How to Reinflate.

We have all had those days, or periods in our life when we feel like a giant deflated balloon

As Indie writers, or those of us that are 100% going-it-alone self published authors, we are forced to juggle many hats. Not only do we have all of the responsibilities of being a writer, but more often than not, we have the added stresses of a day job. Not to mention families; young children, in laws, partners, wife, mistresses, friends and enemies. Ok, maybe I got a bit carried away at the end there, but you get the gist.

The point is, that sometimes, things get on top of us, we feel deflated, that body numbing ‘what is the point sensation.’ I should know, I’ve been there done that and got the t-shirt. In fact I have so many t-shirts, they are thinking of expanding the line to includes sweatshirts, hoodies and baseball caps just to keep my wardrobe a bit varied.

The thing I have learnt in recent times, especially when it comes to writing, is that, it is fine to feel this way. It is natural, and to be honest, should be expected.

The world is in financial crisis, and if you are anything like me, you live from paycheck to paycheck. The month starts well, but each passing week sees new budget cuts enter the shopping list, or rather, removed from the list. It can be of no surprise that our mood goes up and down. Let’s face it, while we are surrounded by luxuries and amenities that were not around for previous generations, it doesn’t little but mask the fact that deep down, life is hard. Life is a bitch, a vampire that will suck you dry and leave you in a heap…. if you let it.

Better luck next time Dracsy

The trick it to not let it win. Some battles you will lose, it simply has to be so, but each time, we come back stronger. Ready for a new fight, a smarter fight.  What we don’t do, it give up, or ever allow ourselves to truly contemplate it.

Just because you take a step back from time to time, it doesn’t mean that you are giving up. Far from it. What are you doing then is saying, I REALLY want this, but I need to take a second and think about how I am going to get there. You are simply regrouping. Gathering your thoughts and coming back with a smarter plan, a stronger will or whatever it is that you feel needed to be improved on.

When you feel like things are getting too much, there are two options that tend to come to the forefront. We can give up, sit down and just submit to the tide, waiting for our body to be dragged beneath the waves into blessed oblivion, or we knuckle down, and just plough on. Often lost, floundering and after a while unsure what it is we were trying to do in the first place.

The thing to learn is that sometimes, we do need to stop. We need to take a break, of any time period, and allow ourselves to recharge, to reinflate.  There is nothing wrong with saying, wait a minute, I need a rest. In fact, sometimes, it is the best thing.

So the next time you are feeling run down, or just generally frustrated, take a break. Go for a walk, watch a movie, head to the gym for an extra workout. Do whatever it is that you like to do to unwind. I can as good as guarantee that by the time you are done, the crisis will have passed and you will be ready to crack on once more.

That Deflated Feeling

Is it just me, or….

Is there nothing quite so sad as a burst balloon.

 

 

It Only Takes One Moment to Make a Groundswell

As a writer it is all too easy to get lost in the numbers game. To spend your time planning and thinking about those big number sale days. We dream about logging on and checking out Amazon ranking and seeing us having broken the top 100. We’ve sold 1000 copies over night and suddenly, in our mind, that means we are on our way.

But does it really?

Sure, if you manage to sell 1000 books over night you are doing very well, but it isn’t the number that is making the difference, but rather the mere fact that you are selling anything at all.

The way I look at it, momentum isn’t generated by 1000 sales, but by 1 sale. That is all it takes. Sure, you may sell 100 books in one afternoon, but not all of those will be read straight away, not all of them will be read at all. So it really isn’t a fair interpretation of things.

Someone could be sitting on a bus, look over the should of the person in front of them, see the title of the book they are reading and bingo, they look it up, make a purchase. Somebody could have picked up a copy of your book for free during a promotion or even won it as part of a contest you entered it into, or ran yourself. They read it, enjoyed it, and told a friend. This friend told a friend of theirs, who happens to be a big horror fan, and all of a sudden, the name is being passed around a group of horror fans and the groundswell begins.

I am not saying that selling 1000 copies, or even 50 copies, doesn’t give you a greater change of having that occur, but rather that selling 50 copies is just as great an achievement and something that should be celebrated just as much as a day where you sell but one copy. Even if you don’t sell any at all, the fact that your book is out there and has been bought by at least one person already, should be celebrated, because who knows who that person was, who they will tell, or whose lap your book may end up in as a result.

ROW80: Mid-Week Checking 02.05.2012

I have kind of fallen off the ROW80 bandwagon. Not because I do not want to take part any longer, but because I was sick. The virus I picked up took more than a week to work its way through my system. I spent two days just feeling so dizzy and truly odd, that I was concerned that I had low blood pressure. It seems to be much better now.

Last week was pretty much a wipe out. I got very little done. I didn’t read much, mainly because the book I am currently reading, while being well written, just doesn’t grab me and I am struggling to get going with it. Also it is an out-and-out fantasy and I don’t normally read it.

I did blog, I actually had quite the hot streak going, but that was about it. Editing was done in spurts, but nothing really meaningful. Friday I got about 15 pages done but that took all day.

Then of course, we had Queensday over here too, which meant that Monday was lost to the celebrations and entertaining the children. It was a great day. Last night was the first time since before I got sick that I could just sit down and edit. My wife was out, and once the kids were in bed I sat down and got over 40 pages edited. It felt great.

I plan to have these final edits finished and the book uploaded onto Amazon and Smashwords at least, on May 31st. It is my birthday and just seems like a fitting time to get it done on.

I am over half way through and finally getting the hang of editing now, so I think it should be doable. My cover art should arrive this week, all things being equal and then it is all just down to me.

This afternoon my wife and I are heading to Belgium. She is going to a concert and I am coming along too. It isn’t my music, but hers, however, we never get to go away together, and I will not let her take the train and bus all the way there on her own. It will be the first time in over a year that we have gone away together, without the kids. It will be great.

So, please, tell me my friends. How are you all doing this week?