Laurie Boris's Blog, page 40

Are You Alienating Fans on Facebook & Fracturing Your Platform?

Reblogged from Kristen Lamb's Blog:

Writers are NOT salespeople and marketers. We aren't. If we were AWESOME at sales, we'd be in SALES. Sales pays way better than playing with our imaginary friends and hoping we create something others want to read. In fact---and I might be going out on a limb here---I would wager most of you are not thinking, "Well, I'm only doing this writing thing until I can land my dream job in…

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Food for social media thought on Kristen Lamb's blog today. It's easy to see a teeny icon and a name and overlook that there's a person attached. As I read this, two pieces of advice sprang to mind: one from my favorite boss, who said you shouldn't put anything online that you wouldn't want your mother to read (or wouldn't want to see posted on the front page of the New York Times, and the other paraphrased from Bob Vila: read twice, post once. I'm not perfect—heck, I even misspelled Kristen's name in my comment, but I'm trying. Happy Tuesday!

It Was Twenty Years Ago Today…

Yes, I was wearing sneakers. The photographer made me pose this way. He has since disappeared. I am not responsible for his whereabouts. Although I do still have the sneakers.

Twenty years ago today, as a 100-degree-plus heat wave broke, my soon-to-be-husband and I stood on the east bank of the Hudson River while a rabbi pronounced us legally wed. We walked away with two documents: one New York state could recognize and one with religious significance. The Jewish one is called a ketubah. It’s in Hebrew, and there’s a big wine stain on it. No, as far as I know, they do not sell them pre-stained, but what do I know? According to Rabbi Fish—if that’s his real name; he seemed to improvise quite a bit—the spillage of the wine was “good luck.” And, also according to him, the document boils down to this: I am the guardian of my husband’s soul and he is supposed to take care of me.

I was never really certain how to put that into play. Did it mean that I should want for nothing, but I was responsible for his decisions? Or the other way around?

Since neither of us knows Hebrew, we started calling the parchment into play whenever the situation warranted: “You’re supposed to get the mail on Tuesdays; it’s in the ketubah!” “You have to come grocery shopping with me…” Yeah, I’m sure you get the picture.

So after the spillage of wine and a sudden breeze that almost took my veil and half of the groomsmen’s yarmulkes, there was a party. I’m told the food was good. Between thanking all our guests and posing for pictures, I barely got more than a few bites. We stopped for pizza on the way home from our own wedding.

Much as I play-gripe about the Bridezilla horrors of the day, it was a great party. We had a smoking band, my brothers sat in on drums and guitar, small nephews wore tie-dye and danced, my dotty little Polish grandmother had to be rescued from going into the men’s room.

It sounds like a cliché to say that it was all a blur or that time goes so quickly, but it was and it did. I blinked and the wedding was over. I blinked again and it’s twenty years later. In my head, I know time passed. My hair changed color. Entire whole people grew up during that interval. The small nephews are in college and my little Polish grandmother is probably somewhere in the hereafter playfully scolding her husband while he asks how much she spent on that new dress.

It will probably be a quiet celebration, but Husband has vowed to take me back to the wedding hall on the Hudson one day so we can actually try their food. He has to. After all, it’s in the ketubah.

I LOVE Libraries!

I really love doing book events at libraries. Mainly because I love being in libraries. The experience reminds me of my childhood, when I was so excited to be around all those books and to have that glorious little card in my tiny, fake crocodile-skin wallet. That little card was magical. It meant that I could take any of those wonderful books home any time I wanted. (Well, when a grownup was available to drive me there. It was a bit of a walk.)

I still visit my local libraries, and now I bring the books.

Next weekend, I get to go to another.

I’ll be at the Saugerties Public Library on Washington Street in Saugerties, New York on Saturday, July 20 at 2:00. I know, it’s a summer weekend, but Saugerties is such a cute little town, with lots of antique shops to poke around in and coffee bars to satisfy your need for frosty, caffeine-laced beverages. And it also is home to Krause’s Candy, where you can get some of the best handcrafted chocolate in the world. Yes. In the world. And I’ve been to the Lindt Museum. Well, almost. But I got a good long look at it from a boat. Anyway, make an afternoon of it in Saugerties if it’s been a while or if you’ve never seen it. It’s right next to Woodstock.

I’ll have all of my books with me and I’ll be talking about writing and self-publishing and stuff.

I do hope you’ll drop!

Baseball and Writing and Baseball

Photo by Robert Boris

I’ve been a baseball fan since I was big enough to reach the TV dials. (Yes, they had dials back then…) Much to my father’s chagrin, I chose to fall for that “other” team, rather than his beloved, pinstriped Yankees.

The soothing voices of the New York Mets’ announcers and the slow, meditative pace of the game appealed to me. And maybe to my budding writer’s mind as well. Watch a pitcher try to hold a notorious base-stealer on the bag. There’s a story behind that dance. The runner tries to rattle the pitcher, throw him off his rhythm. The pitcher tries to catch the batter flat-footed and pick him off base. Watch the tango of catcher and pitcher. A volume goes unsaid as the catcher flashes his signals and the pitcher shakes them off. [Find a copy of Bull Durham if you want a fast lesson in how catchers and pitchers work together.]

Some other lessons I’ve learned from the game speak directly to a professional writers’ career:

1. Lay off the first pitch.

I get the impulse. You’re new up at the plate, a little nervous, and you’re ready to swing for the fences. And, oh, that breaking ball looks so fat and juicy, right in your wheelhouse. This enthusiasm is great when you’re writing your first draft. But crafting it into a novel and joining the publishing game needs thought and finesse. Take a deep breath, look for your pitch, and make your moment happen.

2. The ump’s call doesn’t always go your way.

There will be days when you can’t do anything right. You’ll want to rip the ump a new one for calling that low-and-outside pitch a strike. But that will just get you thrown out of the game. Bad review? Tough critique? Sales in the dumper? Meh. Take what you need, leave the rest, and know that some other day, you’ll get the good calls and someone else will be kicking dirt on the umpire’s shoes.

3. Training to play works a lot better than playing to train.

The best athletes don’t just show up on game day, pop off a few practice swings, and take the field. They train. They lift weights to build those powerful muscles to drive the ball farther; they run and stretch to keep their legs conditioned for the moment they need to break into a dead sprint to catch a pull hitter’s opposite-field fly.

We become better writers by writing, yes, but there are so many other factors at work. Hone your observation skills. Read like mad. Pay attention to the way people speak. Pick up some cues about human nature; learn about other countries and cultures. Learn your OWN culture. Be curious. If a doctor leaves me waiting too long in the exam room, I rummage through all the drawers and cabinets. I want to know what’s in there, and if they didn’t want me to know, they shouldn’t have kept me waiting. I pretend not to pay attention while I’m eavesdropping on conversations. It keeps me sharp.

4. Don’t miss your cut-off man.

You’ve handled that shot off the wall to perfection and you want to wail a strike into the catcher’s glove to catch that runner coming in from third base. You’ll be the big hero, right? But…you could misjudge your abilities or the distance, throwing wild and letting the guy score from second, too. You might also do some serious harm to your rotator cuff. Aiming for the cut-off man will help put that ball where it needs to go with a lot more accuracy than you have from the right-field warning track. Or as Clint Eastwood said, “A man has to know his limitations.” So get some fresh eyes on your work, especially if you know you have problems with grammar or plot threads or using fifteen adverbs in one paragraph. You are allowed to ask for help. Even editors enlist the help of other editors and beta readers when they publish their own work.

5. Even if you’re on the mound, there’s a reason for having seven other guys behind you.

Baseball’s a funny sport that way. You have individual stats, and for a few minutes, the television camera and every eye in the audience are focused on you. With one swing of the bat, one pitch, you can be the hero or you can be the goat. But ultimately, you’re judged as a team. As much as we like to think of writing an individual sport, the team behind you is vital to your success. That means getting a professional cover design, a good line-edit and proofread, and some sharp cookies for beta readers. That also means cultivating a “street team.” These are the people who help keep you motivated while you’re writing and help promote your books once they’re released.

Ready? Play ball!

YOU be the judge…

I’m so excited! Good things aren’t normally supposed to happen on a Monday, but last Monday I found out that Drawing Breath had been nominated for an award back in May and has been selected as a finalist in literary fiction! I wouldn’t have been aware of it at all if not for a random Google search on the book’s title. I love Google.

In case you were wondering, the Festival of Words is a virtual book fair. It celebrates digital books published by indies and small presses. The eFestival itself takes place during 23 to 25 August, during which the winners of their awards will be announced.

Now the fun starts. Winners are chosen based on the amount of votes we get from fabulous readers like you, and if you have a few minutes, I’d love your votes!

The process only looks a lot more complicated than it is, so let me explain.

1. Go to this link to register for the forum.

http://www.efestivalofwords.com/ucp.php?mode=register

You need to register in the eFestival of Words forum in order to vote. Registration is free. After you enter your info and hit “submit,” your registration is complete. Ads will show up, but feel free to ignore all of them. The ads are just part of the forum.

2. After you are registered, go to the Awards Hall, at this link:

http://www.efestivalofwords.com/awards-hall-f29.html

Each category (Drawing Breath is under literary fiction) has a separate thread. Scroll down and click the category you want to vote in, and then enter your vote.

You might also want to check out the other categories. For instance, M. Edward McNally has been nominated in Action/Adventure for The Sable City (Book One of The Norothian Cycle), one of my favorite indie books, as well as under some other categories, including best fantasy, best plot twist, and best villain.

See, it’s quick and easy. Thank you so much!

Jaws, Hydrophobia, and the REAL Story of Our Nation's Independence

Reblogged from Kristen Lamb's Blog:

Ah, summer and Fourth of July. I have the best family in the world, but all of them had kids before I did. This means The Spawn has a lot of cousins who are all older. This is great in that they get to enjoy him (and lots of babysitters at family get-togethers), but it probably means they will scar him for life just like my older cousins did to me.

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I'm reblogging Kristen Lamb's blog today because it's funny and it's why I won't swim in the ocean. (Thanks, Steven Spielberg!) Happy Fourth!

Don’t Tell Anyone is a Semi-Finalist!

Don’t Tell Anyone is a semi-finalist in the 2013 Kindle Book Review Book Awards and I’m really excited!

Most of all, I’m honored to be there along with many of my writing friends. My category (literary fiction) is a tough one. I don’t know how judges do these things, year in and year out, and I don’t envy their jobs.

Also, this is the first competition in which I’ve entered Don’t Tell Anyone, so that’s a special little thrill.

We don’t find out about the next round until the end of August or thereabouts. I’ll keep you posted!

Blurb Alert for Sliding Past Vertical

No, this isn’t the cover. That will take a little longer.

We’re one step closer to official book-dom! I wanted to share this hot-off-the-keyboard book description with you. Here’s the rundown on Sliding Past Vertical:

Sarah Cohen is a walking disaster. She means well, but with each ill-considered decision, this twenty-nine-year-old graphic artist and ex-diving protégé damages not only herself, but also her fellow Bostonians. Good thing she has Emerson McCann on her side, at least for now. This nursing home orderly and aspiring author is just a phone call away in Syracuse, with a metaphorical mop to clean up the messes of her life. For Sarah, who moved east after graduating from Syracuse University in 1979, it’s become a comfortable long-distance friendship. But it can be excruciating for Emerson. Eleven years after their short and emotionally consuming freshman-year romance, he is still in love with her. When everything goes wrong all at once, Sarah plunges into another rash decision: to correct her mistakes, as her high school coach used to tell her when she flubbed a dive, she must return to the point where she went wrong and start again. So she’s moving back to Syracuse and into a vacancy in Emerson’s rooming house, a choice that has sometimes amusing but sometimes catastrophic consequences. And nobody is safe.

Stay tuned for more over the next month or two, and if you’d like to be among the first to know when Sliding Past Vertical goes live, please join my mailing list. I promise not to spam you.

The Baby Boomer Generation Gap

(Special Note: The Joke’s on Me, ebook edition, will be on sale for $3 off its regular price from Friday, June 28 through Saturday, June 29)

The burgeoning genre of Baby Boomer Lit fascinates me. I love the stories authors are telling about the challenges confronting this generation as we face our mortality but still want to squeeze more out of life.

Often forgotten, however, is that technically, baby boomers represent (mostly Americans) born between 1946 and 1964. That’s a span of eighteen years, for those of you good with math or who happen to have a calculator handy. So theoretically, two generations could be contained within this one moniker: two generations with very different goals and ideals.

I noticed this “gap” as a teenager. My older brother and his friends (born between 1955 and 1957) seemed to be living on a completely separate plane from me (1961) and my younger brother (1963). Even though the span between our ages is not that long, his lifestyle and his interests were not ours. He wanted to go to Woodstock. I wanted to go to a Warren Zevon concert. I partied with my friends and ended up sipping iced tea in the pool. He partied with his friends and ended up…well, there’s a lot he doesn’t remember from back then.

So when I began to write the story that would become The Joke’s on Me, it seemed natural to pit two Baby Boomer sisters, born fourteen years apart, against each other. Jude, the elder Goldberg sibling, at seventeen puts flowers in her hair and runs off to San Francisco with a rock band. She gets married barefooted on the beach. She lives in a commune and becomes an early feminist, Gloria Steinem’s home phone number one of her most prized possessions. Frankie, the menopause baby, was three when her pretty hippie sister took off for good. She grew up cynical, caustic, and always ready to make fun of her sister’s freewheeling generation, which forms the meat of her Hollywood stand-up comic act.

Ironically, the two end up back in their mother’s bed-and-breakfast in the town of Woodstock (actually about forty-three miles from the site of the original concert at Yasgur’s Farm in Bethel, New York), spent from personal disappointments. Following Jude’s fourth divorce, she’s returned to help Mom run the business. Frankie’s Hollywood life falls apart with an exclamation point when she can’t find work and her bungalow rides a mudslide into the Pacific, leaving her only the clothes on her back and a red Corvette convertible of questionable ownership.

Although Frankie and Jude were born fourteen years apart into essentially different families and never had much of a relationship, the sisters both face common baby boomer experiences. What should they do about Mom, who has a stroke and is showing signs of Alzheimer’s? How, with their histories, can they have any credibility taking a hard line on drugs and alcohol with Jude’s eighteen-year-old son? And are new relationships worth the bother, even if they’re with old flames?

Writing about these issues is a way of taking ownership of them. And hopefully, helping others along the way, whether that’s making them feel less alone with their problems, giving them a needed break from them, or just sharing a good laugh or cry, depending.

(Note: This was originally published as a guest post on Shelley Lieber’s Boomer Lit Friday blog)

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Laurie Boris is a freelance writer, editor, proofreader, and former graphic designer. She has been writing fiction for over twenty-five years and is the award-winning author of three novels: The Joke’s on Me, Drawing Breath, and Don’t Tell Anyone. When not playing with the universe of imaginary people in her head, she enjoys baseball, cooking, reading, and helping aspiring novelists as a contributing writer and editor for IndiesUnlimited.com. She lives in New York’s lovely Hudson Valley.

Body Dysmorphia is OUT OF CONTROL! Now Affecting the Mannequins

Reblogged from Kristen Lamb's Blog:

Many men and women suffer over body image issues. We try to eat healthy, work out and yet we can never measure up. For most of us, we just wear black in mourning for our pre-baby figures. We live in yoga pants and the idea of bathing suit shopping requires three stiff drinks and a Xanax. For me? I haven't worn shorts in fifteen years.

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Kristen Lamb's blog today is funny but sad. Bring back the curves!