Jennifer Wilck's Blog, page 38
April 3, 2017
The Princess Bride
I bought my husband a Fitbit watch for his birthday. He had the Zip that he used for a long time, but he’d forget it at home often and I thought it was time for him to have something attached to him. The Blaze has more features, and he’s started to set goals and make sure to walk hourly, so he’s healthier, which is an added bonus.
My bonus is that I have his old one. It’s a pain in the neck to remember to stick it in my pocket every day, especially since most of my clothes don’t actually have pockets, but I’m trying. The first time I used it, I dropped it on the beach and had to go racing back to find it. I’m at the point where I’m trying to balance remembering it and not getting obsessive about it.
I might be failing.
This weekend, I decided to challenge my husband. He walks way more than I do. There was no chance I would win. Not legitimately, anyway. But with only a few hours before the time limit, I was almost close enough to beat him. Then he pulled ahead. With an hour left to go, we went to sleep. Well, he did. I lay there, waiting for his breathing to even out and for him to fall deep enough asleep for me to be able to sneak out of bed and go downstairs, walking around in circles until I nudged ahead. I was almost foiled by the Fitbit not syncing, but I made it.
I was sneaky and underhanded. He wasn’t pleased when he woke up to find out I’d won in such a manner. I’ll never be able to pull it off again.
But it might make up for him making me think I could beat him at ping pong, only to pause halfway through and inform me, “I am not left-handed.”
My bonus is that I have his old one. It’s a pain in the neck to remember to stick it in my pocket every day, especially since most of my clothes don’t actually have pockets, but I’m trying. The first time I used it, I dropped it on the beach and had to go racing back to find it. I’m at the point where I’m trying to balance remembering it and not getting obsessive about it.
I might be failing.
This weekend, I decided to challenge my husband. He walks way more than I do. There was no chance I would win. Not legitimately, anyway. But with only a few hours before the time limit, I was almost close enough to beat him. Then he pulled ahead. With an hour left to go, we went to sleep. Well, he did. I lay there, waiting for his breathing to even out and for him to fall deep enough asleep for me to be able to sneak out of bed and go downstairs, walking around in circles until I nudged ahead. I was almost foiled by the Fitbit not syncing, but I made it.
I was sneaky and underhanded. He wasn’t pleased when he woke up to find out I’d won in such a manner. I’ll never be able to pull it off again.
But it might make up for him making me think I could beat him at ping pong, only to pause halfway through and inform me, “I am not left-handed.”
March 27, 2017
Coming Out Of My Shell
I’ve spent the past two weeks in my editing cave. Other than an hour or two in the morning where I get chores done and at night when I’m too bleary-eyed to see straight, I’ve spent the rest of the day going through one manuscript with a fine-tooth comb—responding to edits from my editor, fixing issues and identifying mistakes I missed the first bajillion times I read it. When I finally finished working on those edits, I moved onto the second manuscript I’m contracted for, fixing those same mistakes before my editor takes a crack at it. You know, to prove I can learn from my mistakes. JI’m still editing, but I’m also working on my marketing timetable. I’m trying to figure out when, where and how to publicize my upcoming releases. It’s a little tricky for several reasons. The first and biggest one? I’m an introvert. I HATE talking about myself. I spend all day with myself. The last thing I want to do is talk about me. And trying to figure out where and how to interject my news into a conversation is uncomfortable. Luckily, social media provides me a passive/aggressive way to make my announcements. I can post the info and just leave it there for people to stumble across. In person it’s a little more awkward. I can’t talk about it until a contract is actually signed—both by me and the publisher. Sometimes, friends will ask me what’s new and if I don’t have that contract in my hands, I have to say, “Nothing.” Occasionally, the timing is such that they ask the question, I respond as above, only to get home and find the signed contract in my inbox. Oops (sorry, Julie). My family is pretty good about letting everyone they’ve ever met know about my books, and so I rely on them.The second reason publicizing is tricky is because I don’t have a release date yet and people have short memories. If I talk too much about it now, by the time the books come out, people will be sick of hearing about it. If I don’t mention it at all, then I miss out on opportunities to nudge people.And the last reason it’s tricky is because publicity is fickle. What works once might not work again. At one time, blogs were the way to do it. Now, people read them less—of course, YOU read MY blog all the time. J Facebook parties worked at one time; now, not so much. Sometimes advertising works, other times it falls flat. My writer friends and I have discussed various methods, and we all agree that other than reviews (which readers seem loathe to give), it’s like tossing a coin.So, as I exit the editing cave, I’ll be working on my marketing plan and timing. Hopefully, I’ll get it right. If you hear too much from me, I apologize. If you don’t hear from me enough, my bad. And if you think I should have told you something, please don’t be offended. It wasn’t intentional!*
*If you have suggestions for publicity, feel free to let me know!
Want to leave a review?
*If you have suggestions for publicity, feel free to let me know!
Want to leave a review?March 20, 2017
Nevertheless, She Persisted
Nope, not talking about politics…this time. This time, I’m talking about writing. The best advice anyone will give you is to keep writing. Finished a manuscript? Keep writing. Submitted a manuscript? Keep writing. Ready to give up? Keep writing.
I did that, for months and months and months.
And today, I received my second contract with my publisher for another book. Also a romance, but not part of my series.
My younger daughter refers to it as the “lawnmower book,” because she was reading over my shoulder and happened to see that word. I suppose I should be very grateful that out of all the words in a romance she could have seen, that’s the one her eye picked out. J It has an actual title, though, or at least a working one--In the Moment. Not sure I love it, but the marketing department might change it anyway, so I’m not stressing.
As with the first book they accepted, I now have forms to fill out and will soon have edits to begin. That part does stress me out a little, since I’m still editing the first one, but this is way better than doing nothing.
Oh right, I wasn’t doing nothing. While I was waiting for an editor to bite, I was writing. I have four other manuscripts in the pipeline now. Three of them need editing before I can submit them, but I’ll be putting that on hold while I deal with more immediate needs.
Having them waiting for me, though, is good. It means I’m ready if someone wants them, because I never want to be without something if an editor or agent asks me what I’ve been working on.
So if you need me, I’ll be editing. And writing. And preparing my marketing plan. If I look a little bleary-eyed, you’ll know why.
I did that, for months and months and months.
And today, I received my second contract with my publisher for another book. Also a romance, but not part of my series.
My younger daughter refers to it as the “lawnmower book,” because she was reading over my shoulder and happened to see that word. I suppose I should be very grateful that out of all the words in a romance she could have seen, that’s the one her eye picked out. J It has an actual title, though, or at least a working one--In the Moment. Not sure I love it, but the marketing department might change it anyway, so I’m not stressing.
As with the first book they accepted, I now have forms to fill out and will soon have edits to begin. That part does stress me out a little, since I’m still editing the first one, but this is way better than doing nothing.
Oh right, I wasn’t doing nothing. While I was waiting for an editor to bite, I was writing. I have four other manuscripts in the pipeline now. Three of them need editing before I can submit them, but I’ll be putting that on hold while I deal with more immediate needs.
Having them waiting for me, though, is good. It means I’m ready if someone wants them, because I never want to be without something if an editor or agent asks me what I’ve been working on.
So if you need me, I’ll be editing. And writing. And preparing my marketing plan. If I look a little bleary-eyed, you’ll know why.
March 13, 2017
Author Parties
In the past few weeks, I’ve participated in two “parties” where I was able to showcase my books. Both parties required some creativity on my part in order to figure out exactly how to publicize my book as a part of the greater whole, fit with the theme and help things run smoothly.
To start, I joined my friend, Lyn, at an open house. She sells makeup and she was getting a number of people together to feature their products—there were people selling jewelry, food, handbags and...me.
She set me up in her living room, since that’s where people read. The food people were in the kitchen, the jewelry people and her makeup display scattered in other rooms. I created some social media invitations and we were all to invite our local friends. Because much of this publicity was through Facebook, none of us were certain who, if anyone, would show up. I had never done something like this before, so I had no idea if anyone would be interested in looking at my books.
But you know what? People came and loved the open-house style of the party. I met lots of people I never would have come into contact with previously, and I sold more books at this party than I have at author-only events. It was a terrific experience!
The second party I participated in was a Facebook author party. These events occur on Facebook, and are usually to celebrate a book release. The author invites other authors to celebrate with her (or him), scheduling people at half-hour intervals throughout the time of the party. The hostess also appears throughout the party. Everyone offers giveaways and prizes, talks about their books, offers insights into their writing life and engages with potential readers. The idea is that each author is supposed to invite their friends/fans and that way, those fans get introduced to other authors as well, and authors can build their reader base.
These parties are iffy. Unless you have a really organized hostess and a very well-planned party that ties back to the hostess' books, I don’t believe they do a lot. This party I participated in was terrific, though. The hostess was extremely organized, the authors all wrote similar genres (which means our readers overlap) and it was very well done. I met new readers and authors, I gained exposure for my current books, and even got inquiries about upcoming ones.
Marketing always remains a challenge, and I’ll continue pursuing those outlets I find useful. And in the meantime, I’ll write the next book!
To start, I joined my friend, Lyn, at an open house. She sells makeup and she was getting a number of people together to feature their products—there were people selling jewelry, food, handbags and...me.
She set me up in her living room, since that’s where people read. The food people were in the kitchen, the jewelry people and her makeup display scattered in other rooms. I created some social media invitations and we were all to invite our local friends. Because much of this publicity was through Facebook, none of us were certain who, if anyone, would show up. I had never done something like this before, so I had no idea if anyone would be interested in looking at my books.
But you know what? People came and loved the open-house style of the party. I met lots of people I never would have come into contact with previously, and I sold more books at this party than I have at author-only events. It was a terrific experience!
The second party I participated in was a Facebook author party. These events occur on Facebook, and are usually to celebrate a book release. The author invites other authors to celebrate with her (or him), scheduling people at half-hour intervals throughout the time of the party. The hostess also appears throughout the party. Everyone offers giveaways and prizes, talks about their books, offers insights into their writing life and engages with potential readers. The idea is that each author is supposed to invite their friends/fans and that way, those fans get introduced to other authors as well, and authors can build their reader base.
These parties are iffy. Unless you have a really organized hostess and a very well-planned party that ties back to the hostess' books, I don’t believe they do a lot. This party I participated in was terrific, though. The hostess was extremely organized, the authors all wrote similar genres (which means our readers overlap) and it was very well done. I met new readers and authors, I gained exposure for my current books, and even got inquiries about upcoming ones.
Marketing always remains a challenge, and I’ll continue pursuing those outlets I find useful. And in the meantime, I’ll write the next book!
March 6, 2017
The Dry Spell Is Over!!
It’s been three years since I last published a book (Miriam’sSurrender). Yes, I’ve republished both A Heart of Little Faith and Skin Deepduring that time, but nothing new. It hasn’t been for lack of trying. I’ve been writing non-stop. I signed with an agent, which was a wonderful experience, but didn’t work well for either of us. And I was about to give up on writing.There were things going on in my life that were pulling me in different directions and were making me miserable. When you’re miserable, it’s really hard to write romance. Sure, the black moments come easy, but the happy ones are tough. And so I’d look around at all my author friends who were moving in the right direction and I really thought it was time to give up.But I didn’t. After much soul-searching, I made changes in my life and decided to give writing one last shot. I freed up my time, finished the stories I was writing, polished the ones I’d already finished and made a plan.The plan was imperfect. In fact, my getting published right now is kind of amazing, but that’s a story for another blog post. Suffice it to say that despite everything I did to work against myself, I found a publisher for a story that I can’t wait to reveal to everyone.It’s the first in a projected three-book series. The characters are Jewish, but the story doesn’t revolve around any holidays. They happen to be Jewish, like I happen to have brown hair (shh, no comments about the grey). There’s a little religion and culture thrown in, but that’s all. The publisher is one I’ve been eyeing for a while—they have a fantastic reputation, put out great books and treat their authors well. Throughout the entire submission process, they kept me updated and they’ve answered every question I’ve asked. I signed the contract on my birthday and I’m looking forward to starting to work with them.In the meantime, I’m continuing to edit my existing manuscripts and beginning to prepare for the marketing side of this business. I’ll be keeping my readers updated on my website (http://www.jenniferwilck.com) and on my Facebook author page (https://www.facebook.com/Jennifer-Wilck-201342863240160/), so be sure to pop over there regularly. If you want advanced notice of things, like preview chapters, exclusive contests to win copies of the book, etc., you might want to sign up for my newsletter (http://jenniferwilck.com/contact.html#newsletter). And if you want even more exclusive info and get to help me promote myself, you can join my street team (https://www.facebook.com/groups/749451931834130/).The moral of this story is don’t give up. And I’m really glad I didn’t.
February 13, 2017
Prom Dresses
The Princess and I went prom dress shopping on Saturday.
For those of you who don’t have daughters, prom dress shopping is NOTHING like you’re picturing. It’s not like when we were young. It’s not like any of the Disney movies make it out to be.
It’s like taking all the teenaged emotions and attitudes, mixing them with equal parts “Mom knows nothing” and “I can’t decide—Mom, what do you think” and sprinkling a heavy dose of glitter, tacky rhinestones and “Wait, where’s the rest of the dress?”.
First, we went to a boutique she’d heard about. It was organized by an OCD person—type of dress, color and size. Based on what the Princess thought she wanted, we were instructed to look at three—and only three—aisles. The salesgirl took the dresses and placed them in the dressing room, helped her get in and out of each one and was generally helpful.
I stood there, held her coat and was allowed to voice my opinion.
She found a dress. I was amazed. I’d figured we were going to have to hit at least four stores over several weekends. She tried on others to make sure. She liked it. She wanted it.
But we weren’t done yet. First, she had to check with her friends to get their opinions. This required some sneaky photo taking, since pictures weren’t allowed.
They liked it.
Then she had to check Facebook. Because unlike when I was a teenager, no one can have the same dress. And to ensure that this social faux pas does not occur, each class creates a Facebook page. When you purchase your dress, you post a photo. It’s yours and no one else is allowed to wear it.
Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but what do I know?
So she looked on Facebook and it wasn’t there.
She hemmed and hawed a little longer. And finally decided she’d found the one.
We walked to the cashier and waited our turn. The cashier smiled and began taking our information.
“Wait, Mom.”
Oh no. Turns out one of the girls in her friend group had purchased the same dress in a different color.
Seriously?
So we left and went to a different store. That had a ton of dresses. I was sure we’d find something.
And we did. We found about ten somethings. There was no helpful salesperson here, however, so I trailed her, carrying dresses like a pack mule.
She took them back in the fitting rooms and tried them on. One by one, she discounted them, and I started getting worried. Turns out, she purposely started with her least favorites.
Then we got to the ones she liked.
One was pale pink lace with sparkles. It was beautiful. She loved it. Until she realized (thanks to her friends) that it made her washed out. So she tried it on in baby blue. And it was really pretty.
Then she tried a black one with lace in the front. It was gorgeous.
Then she tried a navy one with stuff on the side and back. I honestly don’t know what the “stuff” was. At this point, I’m lucky I recognized it was a dress. It was stunning.
And she couldn’t decide. She hemmed and hawed. Her friends liked some better than others.
She tried the baby blue one on again.
And we left without anything.
I don’t want her to buy a dress she doesn’t love. But I also don’t want to have to do this again. Except I am. Next weekend.
Pray for me.
For those of you who don’t have daughters, prom dress shopping is NOTHING like you’re picturing. It’s not like when we were young. It’s not like any of the Disney movies make it out to be.
It’s like taking all the teenaged emotions and attitudes, mixing them with equal parts “Mom knows nothing” and “I can’t decide—Mom, what do you think” and sprinkling a heavy dose of glitter, tacky rhinestones and “Wait, where’s the rest of the dress?”.
First, we went to a boutique she’d heard about. It was organized by an OCD person—type of dress, color and size. Based on what the Princess thought she wanted, we were instructed to look at three—and only three—aisles. The salesgirl took the dresses and placed them in the dressing room, helped her get in and out of each one and was generally helpful.
I stood there, held her coat and was allowed to voice my opinion.
She found a dress. I was amazed. I’d figured we were going to have to hit at least four stores over several weekends. She tried on others to make sure. She liked it. She wanted it.
But we weren’t done yet. First, she had to check with her friends to get their opinions. This required some sneaky photo taking, since pictures weren’t allowed.
They liked it.
Then she had to check Facebook. Because unlike when I was a teenager, no one can have the same dress. And to ensure that this social faux pas does not occur, each class creates a Facebook page. When you purchase your dress, you post a photo. It’s yours and no one else is allowed to wear it.
Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but what do I know?
So she looked on Facebook and it wasn’t there.
She hemmed and hawed a little longer. And finally decided she’d found the one.
We walked to the cashier and waited our turn. The cashier smiled and began taking our information.
“Wait, Mom.”
Oh no. Turns out one of the girls in her friend group had purchased the same dress in a different color.
Seriously?
So we left and went to a different store. That had a ton of dresses. I was sure we’d find something.
And we did. We found about ten somethings. There was no helpful salesperson here, however, so I trailed her, carrying dresses like a pack mule.
She took them back in the fitting rooms and tried them on. One by one, she discounted them, and I started getting worried. Turns out, she purposely started with her least favorites.
Then we got to the ones she liked.
One was pale pink lace with sparkles. It was beautiful. She loved it. Until she realized (thanks to her friends) that it made her washed out. So she tried it on in baby blue. And it was really pretty.
Then she tried a black one with lace in the front. It was gorgeous.
Then she tried a navy one with stuff on the side and back. I honestly don’t know what the “stuff” was. At this point, I’m lucky I recognized it was a dress. It was stunning.
And she couldn’t decide. She hemmed and hawed. Her friends liked some better than others.
She tried the baby blue one on again.
And we left without anything.
I don’t want her to buy a dress she doesn’t love. But I also don’t want to have to do this again. Except I am. Next weekend.
Pray for me.
February 6, 2017
Spider
There’s a spider in my basement.This wouldn’t be a big deal, except that I just convinced my teen that the basement is an acceptable place to be with her friends or to watch TV on occasion—after many, many, many years of her refusal to go anywhere near it.I hate spiders. I’ve pretended to be okay with them so I don’t create some phobia in my kids, but I really, really, really hate them. So I’m not killing it.My other teen is morally opposed to killing creatures. I’d be more okay with this if creatures didn’t include spiders. Her preferred method of disposal is to deposit them outside. Well, that’s where the spider started out, and he figured out a way to get inside once. Putting him back outside is not a long-term solution. Plus, she’s noisy about it. Actually, she’s noisy about everything and there’s no way I’ll be able to keep her quiet enough to prevent her sister from finding out. And then she’ll never go in the basement again.Why don’t I have my husband kill it? Well, a few reasons. The most relevant one right now is that he’s 5,000 miles away for the next two weeks. If it’s still there when he gets back, I’ll ask him to take care of it.I could be a total wimp and call my dad. Don’t laugh, I’ve done this before, except it was a cicada on the inside of the window in my living room. I tried calling my husband to take care of it, but he was at work and refused to come home to kill a bug. Do you have any idea how big cicadas are? HUGE. So I called my dad. And he was great. He came right over. But he deposited it outside. Which means it could have managed to get back in my house. It didn’t, but that’s beside the point. So even though my dad is retired and has plenty of time to come over and get rid of bugs for me, I’m not calling him. At least not yet.For now, I’m leaving the spider where it is. It has eight eyes and eight legs. I figure if it’s going to be in my house, I can put it to work, looking out for bogeymen who might try to hide in my basement now that my husband is away.Because I’m even more afraid of THEM!
It's been there for two days now. There's a small chance it might be dead. I don't know and I'm not checking. But if it is dead, i'm still leaving it there as a warning to its friends and family: "Don't let this happen to you!"
It's been there for two days now. There's a small chance it might be dead. I don't know and I'm not checking. But if it is dead, i'm still leaving it there as a warning to its friends and family: "Don't let this happen to you!" January 30, 2017
A Letter To My Daughter On Her 18th Birthday
The first time you were put in my arms, I was calm (I was also drugged, so that could have contributed to the situation). I knew everything about you, because you had been inside of me for the past nine months and I recognized your face from the ultrasounds (and no one wants to argue with a hormonal woman who has just gone through 12+ hours of labor).But really, I knew nothing about you, and when we got home from the hospital and everyone left, I looked at Daddy and said, “Now what?”Over the years, I’ve laughed and cried and screamed and laughed some more while watching you grow into the young woman you are today. And I can confidently say I know more about you than I did that first day I brought you home.I know you have the brightest smile and most sparkly green eyes I’ve ever seen, and you make my world a happier place just by being you.I know no matter how insecure you might feel inside, you project confidence and wisdom that I admire.I know you’re honest and I trust you implicitly—and I know you can handle the weight of my trust.I know you’re stubborn, and that your stubbornness will do you well in the future. While you might have occasion to temper it, don’t ever let anyone convince you to lose it.I know you know yourself, and at your age, that’s amazing. I hope you continue to grow and learn more about yourself and always trust your inner voice.I know you embody every single dream I had for my daughter when I first dreamed of you; when I first looked at your big eyes and curly hair and big kissable belly; and when I look at and talk to you now.Happy birthday to my first baby. As you chart your path, remember where you come from, who you are and all your dreams for your future.And never forget how much I love you.Love,MomJanuary 23, 2017
Look Up!
I’m a terrible person to take on a tour because I always hold everyone up. It’s not that I walk slowly or that I’m uninterested in what’s going on. It’s just that inevitably, there is always something going on not on the tour that interests me. Maybe it’s a dress in a store window we pass, or an interesting looking building we walk by. When I see it, I stop and all of a sudden I realize the rest of the tour has continued and I’m all by myself.That’s also true, apparently, when I’m in lines waiting to enter places. This past weekend I was in Trenton waiting to enter the War Memorial. As we filed up the stairs, I paused to look up. And I saw incredible ceilings.
I noticed the quotes carved into the buildings.
And I’m pretty sure the people behind me grumbled as I stopped to take pictures.So to them, I apologize. Just like the tour guides who lose patience with me while waiting for me to catch up, I’m sure none of you appreciated having to wait while I oohed and ahhed and photographed. And I totally understand if you never want to walk near me because it will happen again.Because I'm a writer, and noticing comes with the territory.
I noticed the quotes carved into the buildings.
And I’m pretty sure the people behind me grumbled as I stopped to take pictures.So to them, I apologize. Just like the tour guides who lose patience with me while waiting for me to catch up, I’m sure none of you appreciated having to wait while I oohed and ahhed and photographed. And I totally understand if you never want to walk near me because it will happen again.Because I'm a writer, and noticing comes with the territory.
January 16, 2017
When Twitter Works
I had the most amazing Twitter conversation with someone. It was amazing because we were able to have a civil, respectful discourse about politics. There was no talking at each other, no screaming and no accusation. On top of that, we were able to get our points across using groups of 140 characters or less, which for two writers, almost never happens.I don’t know how she feels about my writing this, so I’m not going to name her. But she’s a best-selling writer I’ve admired for years. She’s an Iraqi war veteran, an officer in the Army and she brings that experience into her books. She’s currently getting her PhD at Duke. She’s been featured on PBS and has written widely about her military experience. In other words, she smart and powerful and mighty.While she’s not sure we’re on different sides of the political aisle (we didn’t actually label ourselves), if we’re not, we definitely don’t agree on everything. But that didn’t matter. And it shouldn’t, because it’s possible for people to disagree to still have meaningful conversations (I would have said “expected,” but these days, I can’t.).She tweeted her dismay at people potentially boycotting LL Bean because of a board member’s support of Trump. Because I am familiar with her, and have never seen her tweet anything disrespectful—that’s not to say she’s not passionate about things—I responded.While my knee-jerk reaction is to boycott any company associated with a message of hate, after speaking with her and thinking about it, I’m not sure one board member’s association is enough to warrant it—if you think about it, it’s quite a high standard to start requiring and one which I’m confident would result in failure all around. And although it does leave a bad taste in my mouth, I’m pausing before making a decision that is right for me. I think I’m going to have to do a lot of that for the foreseeable future.We talked about the need to balance support for companies that bring jobs to the US versus making our displeasure known when those companies show their support for hate. I talked as a civilian, Jewish woman. She talked as an Army officer from a small mill town. We both talked about our intolerance of hate.In the end, we both agreed with the larger picture, we both expressed fear for the future, and we both appreciated our being able to discuss things clearly and rationally.There’s a huge risk to starting or entering into these conversations on social media. You don’t know what kind of Pandora’s box you might be opening. And I’m not sure that someone else won’t respond angrily to something either one of us said. Freedom of speech is a scary thing right now. But we were careful with each other and we kept a common goal in mind—hatred, regardless of who it’s directed at, is never okay. And with respect, we can find our similarities even among our differences.
