Amber L. Carter's Blog, page 76

Why I love the TC.

Here's the thing that I've noticed lately about Minneapolis/St. Paul that sets us apart from other cities like New York and L.A. - we go out of our way to promote and cheer on others. Take a look at Twitter sometime - it's full of TC peeps RT'ing or announcing the great things that other people on the scene have done/are doing. And then some of them take it a step further by thinking of great ways to help said people further their goals, whether it's by featuring them in a magazine, putting them up for an award, or sponsoring their endeavors. And we don't just do it for our friends: We do it because it's become a natural part of our online community. Publicly, we seem to thrive on the spirit of building others up.
Which is really freaking awesome.

Snow Wars.

I like to think of this unseasonably warm weather as a big punch in the face to all the Winter Dicks out there. The kind who seem to take a sort of sadistic joy over reminding people that this is Minnesota, and no matter what you might be hoping, this winter especially is supposed to be long, cold, and bitter. "Well, hopefully if it's snowing in October, that means the snow will be gone by April," you brightly tell yourself and your friends, trying to take the optimistic route after the first snowfall hits before the leaves barely have a chance to fall off the trees. "Nope," they reply, barely able to contain their smug little smiles, "They're saying that this year it's supposed to be colder, longer, and more snowier than any winter we've had in years." Those guy are dicks. Winter Dicks. And while some of them are holding on - claiming that we should all just wait, that it being 50 degrees in the middle January just means that we'll probably still have snow by the time June hits - there's still a small satisfaction in knowing that this year they don't get to take joy out of everyone else's frozen misery. (And yes, the fact that I can walk outside in January without even a jacket on somewhat scares the shit out of me...however, if this is what it takes for people to believe in that silly thing called science and take global warming seriously...I'll take it. I've got my Post-Apocolypse Plan set all up. I'm good). If Minnesota suddenly turns into California, I'm okay with it, pals. Then everyone else who just loooves winters will know what it feels like when people challenge them with the incredibly ridiculous "If you don't like it, then why do you live here?" weather defense.  So here's to you, unseasonable temps in January. I won't talk about you on Twitter or Facebook because I find that shit to be incredibly boring and annoying to read about, but right now, you're okay by me, little guy.

McSweeney's Internet Tendency: Ernest Hemingway, Yelper.

McSweeney's Internet Tendency: Ernest Hemingway, Yelper.

Infusion Tea and Coffee House
Category: Coffee & Tea
THREE STARS

I got up late and the sun was already high and I had been drunk the night before. The barista brought me a cup of coffee and asked if I wanted anything else and when I said no she left. The coffee was good and very hot. I sat at the table for a while. When I was done the barista came and cleared my mug and went back behind the counter. I ordered a muffin to go and walked out into the street. By that time it was two in the afternoon and my headache was not as strong as it had been.

2 Million in 2012.

What would be the one goal that would change your life forever? I'm not just talking about losing 20 pounds, or paying off your credit cards, or any of those other "if only ___" goals. We can talk about those another time (mainly because it will feel more appropriate to talk about weight loss goals when I'm not currently stuffing my face with leftover Christmas cookies). What I'm talking about is: What is the one goal, if you accomplished it, that would change your life for-ever. No looking back. Everything is different. All of your wildest I'm-in-a-hot-tub-on-top-of-a-fucking-mountain-you-guys dreams just came true.

I've been playing with this idea on the regular, ever since this. It's called a Breatkthrough Goal. As Jack Canfield (I love that guy) states, it's "something that changes your life, brings you new opportunities, gets you in front of the right people, and takes every activity, relationship, or group you're involved in to a high level." It's when you dream so big and set a goal so fantastic that it's hard to go back from it, because after you've allowed your imagination to stretch that wide, regular life starts to seem like kind of a drag.
Since the publication of Holiday Chick, my Breakthrough Goal has been this quiet little secret...this small, delicious little dream I had scribbled on an index card and stuffed inside my wallet. I didn't want to share it because...what if it didn't happen? What if people did that thing where they kind of smile politely and nod at you all nice-like but deep down you know they're secretly thinking, "Yeah, good luck with that one, Amber..."? What if I announced it and I looked stupid? 
Here's the answer to that, though, which I just realized today: I already look stupid. I look stupid all the time. Sometimes I even go out of my way to look stupid on purpose, just because I'm so okay with looking stupid that I don't even care if I look stupid while I'm looking stupid...or something like that.
The point is...I'm fucking doing it. And I'm gonna let you watch me as I do it. 
That sounded a lot more sexy than it was meant to. You're welcome. 
I'm selling 2 million copies of Holiday Chick by the end of 2012.

There's no "I'm hoping to sell" or "I'm going to try to sell" or "Maybe I might be able to sell". Nope. No built-in outs.

It's happening. Declarative. Definitive. Two million copies in 2012.

It's a lofty goal. A bold statement. I know it. That's the point. Here's why:

A. As most of you long-time blog readers know, I'm not that super awesome with follow-through. On Thanksgiving I said I was going to post 30 days of Christmas music, and I ended up posting two days worth. And one of those days was a repost of something I posted last year! Ha ha. So this is going to take guts. It's going to take dedication. Hard work. Digital pavement pounding. Follow-through. So I'm purposely not letting myself say anything resembling, "I might not make my goal, but (insert consolation prize here)" because then I'm just a wuss who's hoping you'll let me off the hook if I decide - much like most of the people who enter into sacred, must-be-protected-at-all-costs marriage these days - that this is really hard and I don't wanna do it anymore. And you know what I realized these past couple weeks? The "Ha ha, I'm really bad at following-through, it's just a part of my charm" attitude is some straight-up bullshit.

And - 

B. Goals that are realistic may be attainable, but they are not inspiring. Selling 100,000 copies of Holiday Chick does not inspire me. Selling 500,000 copies of Holiday Chick inspires me a little. Selling a million copies of Holiday Chick....that stuff is in-spir-ing. But if I'm going to go that high, why not go even higher, then, right? Goals that are so ambitious capture the imagination. They challenge you to think in entirely different ways. And if you want to change your life, if you want to be in that hot tub on top of that mountain, you have to do and think differently than you did before (otherwise you'd already be in that hot tub, right?). Also: Hot tubs are awesome.

So it's happening. And to make it happen, I'll also be turning a part of my blog into a sort of experimental tutorial. We've all read the articles about Amanda Hocking (including this article that my friend Dave sent to me literally as I was crafting this blog post...how weird is that, right?) and other authors who have made millions through self-publishing. The articles make it sound so easy...just do what they did - turn it into an e-book! Sell it for 99 cents on Amazon! Pay other bloggers to review it! - and you'll be rich! Riiiiiich! So I'm going to try out some of the billion marketing tricks and tips out there for aspiring and indie authors to see what kind of results they shake out. Because at the end of the day, when it comes to bookmarks and Facebook fan pages and all that other bullshit, us writerly-folk really just want to know one thing - does it help you sell more books?

So that's my goal for this year, kids. I'm selling 2 million books in 2012. And I want you to ride along with me, every step - mile, kilometer...I'm not here to make judgements about where you're from! - of the way. This blog will be filled with madcap exploits! Hilarious hijinks! Adorable pratfalls and heartwarming lessons! And you will be stuck to your seats, blog campers! Glued to your screens! Mainly because the only thing more riveting than watching someone do something so stupidly ambitious is watching someone go on a string of horribly bad, nightmarish, oh-thank-god-it's-them-and-not-me dates.

And I've already done that for you, haven't I. Oh yes...yes I have.

Hotness & Notness.

As some of you might remember, I have my own personal experience with the annual Vita.mn's Hotness Contest. And I know that we all have our own opinions about this contest...some of us think it's campy fun, others think that it's one of the most banal and disgusting things to ever be a part of the local scene.
But I think one thing we can all agree with is that this is freaking awesome. To help support it, I submitted my own picture.   You want to make out with me right now, don't you. It's okay. Those feelings are only natural, after gazing upon this glorious portrait of my beauty. To further celebrate it, I would like to take this moment to post a couple more. Because, if we've learned anything about each other over the years, it's that you guys love it when I purposely embarrass myself on a public forum.
So here you go. 
And this one I'm posting for Kevin, to help soothe his mood after our very heated debate about government spending, Planned Parenthood, and abortion.
To submit your very own picture and help support the alternative to celebrating people merely for their hotness, get your fine personality over to here.

Hippo demonstrates for you how to properly read "Holiday Chick."

Note: This is the first in a week of super-fun announcements about Holiday Chick. The first one being -
Holiday Chick is now $0.99 on Smashwords! 
If you're not familiar with Smashwords (and that's okay. I don't expect you to know everything), then get ready - Smashwords is like book-shopping heaven for those of us who like unexpected reads. You can find millions of books on there, and for standard prices ranging from $2.99 - $0.99, there's no buyer's remorse if you take a chance and find the book wanting. 
Also, for those of you who might have gotten some super sweet e-readers (Kindle Fire? Nook? iPad?) for Christmas, this is your one-stop shop for finding books that fit whatever format you're rocking. For those of you who do not get to carry a Kindle Fire around in your back pocket, have cheer - you can also download the e-books onto your computer in PDF form. Basically, however you can best access an e-book, Smashwords can do it up for you.
So hop onto Smashwords, why don't you! And make all of your e-reading dreams come true... 
And you should probably hurry up about it, because I'm seriously considering an exclusive deal with Kindle in February.

My dear acquaintance, it's so good to know you.

On New Year's Eve the snow started to fall around seven o'clock. I stood at the window and stared out and up, thinking about all the people who will be so happy about the thick layers on the ground in the morning. Up here, snow means money. It harkens to the skiiers and snowmobilers and snowshoers and ice fisherman from afar, like a signal to all the Winter SuperFriends to assemble and unite. Which is great, except for the immediacy of it, which seems to happen every New Year's Eve. The worst night ever for a snowstorm, right?

Under the right circumstances, the happiest night for one, too.

Here's to a fresh, dazzling 365 days of exciting possibilities, swelling triumphs, and daring new adventures. Happy New Years, pals.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays.

This morning we woke up in my little brother's bed. Laying against each other while we watched the orange sunlight begin its rise over the frozen lake, I thought about how these small moments together seem to last forever. Drawn out, stretched and filled with happiness for their presence instead of the sad longing for more.  Last night we drank eggnog with my family and watched the dogs romp around together while we waited for Daniel to come home. The night before we had our own little Christmas: We made a roast chicken and opened a bottle of red wine and exchanged gifts and laughed through all the Christmas episodes of The Office. And it feels like every new day or night we spend together becomes the new Best Ever. Which it is, for the simple reason that we're spending it together.    While the rest of the house was still slumbering, we rose and dressed and I made coffee while you took Ella out. The acolyte lanterns at the end of the driveway were still lit, two small fires in the blue of the dawn, and I kissed you in the cold after I brought Dutch out. Coffee and rolls and then a drive through the forest, Ella's sweet, soft head buried into the crook of my shoulder as we got ready to say goodbye. 
It's late morning now. My family is watching a heartwarming, inspirational movie about a dog - and you know how I feel about animal movies - so instead I'm drinking coffee and catching up with friends online. Erica is in the airport, about to make her way from her new home in L.A. with her own Chris to her family's home in the woods of Minnesota. On her blog she posted a photo of a Starbucks drink atop a book, and I smiled a little as I thought about you, traveling the blacktop of 53 to your own families (plural) Christmas celebrations. On Thursday night we talked about making our own new traditions next year, ones of seasonal beverages and weekend getaways and commemorative mugs for hot chocolate crawls. And I already can't wait.
This is the merriest Christmas, I told myself this morning, as I felt your warm arms wrap around me as we stared out the window at the cold lake and frosted wood. And you are my favorite present, the Best Ever.

My Christmas starts now. Sorry if you're jealous.

A Very Magical Christmas Evening starts ANY MINUTE NOW with the arrival of Chris. The presents are wrapped, the eggnog has been made (and nicely packaged into a carton that I could conveniently buy at the store), the fire is going, Roger Whittaker is playing (Yes. I have subjected Chris to Roger Whittaker. He's coming to the Carter Clan Christmastime tomorrow night, and so I needed him to be prepared), and the cookies I burned earlier this afternoon are ready for eating.

MAGIC!

Happy Holidays from Deloris Pookerton Carter!

She wishes you a Merry Christmas, indeed.