Shawnee Small's Blog, page 10

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For things just like this:

Awesome Books to Replace Your Favorite Cancelled TV Shows

The Man in Black

I know it’s going to be a really interesting ride when this man makes at least one cameo appearance in Protector -

The Man in Black

I *heart* Goetze’s Cream Caramels

The writing gods smiled upon me today.

My 30 lbs of tasty sugary goodness showed up at my door. Just the right fuel for writing Protector: Book 2.

Thank you Goetze for being truly awesome. I couldn’t write without you.

Thank you Kyla La Grange

. . . for renewing my belief in music.

This song will definitely be on the playlist for Protector:

Tybee is a popular place these days.

What a weird weekend. Apart from my 5th wedding anniversary (which wasn’t the weird part I must stress), I ended up an on an all night bender reading Fifty Shades of Grey. If you haven’t been on the interweb in the last month and don’t know what I’m talking about, you may want to go here.

For the rest of you too lazy to click a link, I’ll try to give you the short Shawnee-is-a-smart-ass synposis:

Bella Swan, oops, I mean Anastasia Steele is a twenty-something virgin (yeah, right) who’s about to graduate from college and who ends up interviewing an unbelievably successful M&A billionaire guy named Christian Grey (Why do I think Nip Tuck when I hear Christian?) Anyhow, she asks him a bunch of questions and gets under his skin, the next thing you know he’s effectively stalking her. After some very awkward and clunky prose, he makes her a proposition – in the spirit of 9 1/2 Weeks, he asks her to be his sex slave for 3 months, contract and all. What transpires is some very formidable sex that involves riding crops, ben wa balls, bondage and an S&M dungeon room called the Playpen of Pain or some such thing.

I concede that the sex is hot. I mean seriously hot and you wonder how two people can have so much earth-shattering sex and still walk. It’s like reading Penthouse Forum with a bit more class. And the bondage is novel for those who’ve never experienced that sort of thing. I’m not saying alot here, but trust me, I was a Goth for like 15+ years. I have seen lots of freaky stuff and have done some things in my 20s that my 40 year-old self would blush at. It didn’t shock me.

So why am I still reading it? I don’t know, but that’s not the point of this blog post anyhow. I may wax poetical about it later, but right now, I’m freaked out about one thing.

Tybee is in this book.

How the fuck is that possible? When and how does a West Londoner TV executive come across my little piece of mecca?

Not that I have exclusive rights to Tybee, of course. I know that my 80 year-old neighbor who lived right next door to me on Tybee would give me some old Southern story (and possibly Irish) about how the island owned nobody and nobody owned the island. I would say, “Yeah, I know, but a half-rate erotica novel? I mean Paddy’s is no Spagos, but still . . .” I would probably whine just like that.

It breaks my heart a little, I can’t deny. While the exposure is brief, Bella’s, oops, I mean Ana’s, mother lives three blocks from the ocean and she’s there only a short time, it still makes my skin crawl. There’s hardly any mention of anything actually on Tybee, which is good, and frankly, the only place I can pinpoint is The Mansion down off of Forsyth Park in Savannah. It the place where Christian, who has more money than scruples, stays as he pursues Anastasia to her mother’s. (ed. – Seriously? She can’t have like 5 days away from him? How insecure can he be?)

So why am I bitching? I feel like Tybee is a bit tainted even by it’s brief interlude in the book. It doesn’t mean all of a sudden I’m going to change the setting of my series in “some sort of wacky time shift thing” because I’m not. It’s just that I *love* Tybee Island. I love the people, the food, the scene, the atmosphere of that place. I had two beautiful years amongst its wonderfully eccentric inhabitants and they have left their mark on my heart. It pains me to see them relegated to the sordid pages of an S&M fantasy instead of being lauded out loud.

But then again, if EL James had celebrated one of my favorite places then what would that leave for me to do? How would that have effected Watcher or the whole Shining Ones series in fact?

I don’t wanna know.

What I do know is that I will stay the course cause I’m loyal like that. And Tybee will continue to take its special place in my books, whips and chains excluded.

 

It’s Friday. I’m hungover.

After a flamboyantly brilliant evening with a host of local ladies last night, I find myself somewhat hungover. Okay, maybe not so much hungover as sleep deprived. For some reason, sleep deprivation is much harder for me. After staggering into bed around 2:30AM, my body promptly thought it was time to get up at 7AM this morning, which seem unfair somehow given how much effort I had put forth to entertain and amaze a large number of female neighbors.

That aside, I was not in a state to write today and therefore took the day off. This meant that I felt guilty for most of the day as I slept (for large parts of it) and then hobbled out of bed to go out and search for lunch at my favorite watering hole, The Villa. So nothing out of the ordinary there, really.

No, what has given me pause for thought is this idea of guilt and how I felt like I should feel guilty for not writing, when in fact, I wasn’t. Guilty that is (or writing for that matter). And then something dawned on me.

Although I wasn’t writing Protector per se, I was still actually thinking about it. Alot. Even while I was bingeing on some good old-fashioned Sookie Stackhouse, I couldn’t help but think about Poe’s situation and how different of a predicament she’s in even though her and Sookie are battling their own demons, so to speak. (ed.-Charlaine thank you so much for making red neck fashionable and enjoyable).

So while I didn’t put down one word of fiction today, it wasn’t all wasted. I got a chance to really think about the plot to the next book. Of course, that meant I was also worrying somewhat about plot holes and that’s definitely not something you want to do hungover. But hey, it wasn’t a complete washout – a bit like dieting – yes, I did eat half a bag of fig newtons, but hey they’re 100% wholegrain and FULL of fiber, right?

On a side note, before I forget, the final edits of the printed version of Watcher have gone through. Fingers crossed that we’ve got a final proof on Monday and we’re ready to go.

Can somebody find me some aspirin?

How many times can you read it?

It’s a Friday, my normal blog day. I still haven’t posted my bit about editors and while it is certainly apt for what I’ve been doing over the last couple of days, I still find myself compelled to write about what’s going on in my life right now. And what that is is reading Watcher *again* for like the 12th time.

And it made me start to wonder how many times could you re-read your own work before you got sick of it.

I think I’m getting there. And it makes me wish I had more author friends that I could bitch to.

I should preempt the rest of my post by saying that I’m not getting down on my book. In fact, as I re-read Watcher in actual book form, my mind boggles at the fact that I actually wrote it. I got to some passages and thought, “Holy crap. That’s pretty damn good. I can’t believe I wrote that!” So I’m pretty proud of what I’ve achieved so far. Being an author is a hard job.

I guess where I am is in the land of frustration right now. I suspect this is normal. I want to move on in the story, but I’m afraid of a) not living up to the expectations of all those fans who are bugging me to death for the next book and b) not being a fast enough writer to get these things out every six months.

I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I see indie authors all around me who are churning out books every 3-6 months. How on earth is that possible? I could get the first draft written in 3 months, but actually get it edited and into a good final state – no way. It’s never going to happen.

This must be what performance anxiety is like.

And so these sort of thoughts plague me on a day like today where I look outside at the pretty Spring weather and wonder why I’m stuck in a chair on my computer.

But it is what it is. Maybe I do need that writers group after all.

For the love of romance fans

I'm sitting down yet again to write about the need for editors and how they are worth their weight in gold and instead, I find myself drawn to romance. I can't stop thinking about it.

It kinda goes like this:

This last weekend was the Virginia Festival of the Book. I've gone every year since I've moved back to Virginia. Some years have been better than others. This year was definitely packed. I met some great authors including Jenny Gardiner, who has the type of humor that the cynical part of me can really appreciate. I got crushed in crowds and rained on. It wasn't entirely pleasant and to be honest, I wasn't really feeling the vibe. I wanted to, but it just seemed pointless right up until I went to the romance panel at Barnes and Noble.

I have a confession to make. I have a soft place in my heart for romance novels, the steamier the better. I don't know if it was from the sneaky reading of all those large-print "bodice rippers" that my great grandmother used to have stashed by the side of her bed at the age of 9 or being in college stuck up on a lifeguard's chair with nothing better to do (no one drowned on my watch). I have read hundreds of so-horrible-they're-good trashy romances.

But and this is a big but, I haven't read one in years. Why? Because I didn't want to be associated with Jackie Collins or the saucy Barbara Cartland or any other old lady reclining on a chaise longue with a yippy little dog, soft rose filter, and a box of chocolates. I know, how judgmental right? Sorry, it happens, I can't help it.

Anyhow, so it was my dirty little secret that I sneaked off to the romance panel on Saturday at B&N. I was curious, in a car crash sort of way. After all, I knew a little something of sexual tension and libido as I was dealing with my own characters' love situation in Watcher. And I'm not afraid to say that I was hoping to get the inside track on writing, ahem, sex scenes. (It's kinda hard to write a steamy scene knowing that your father is reading your book thinking, "Oh God, my daughter is talking about sex." You think I'm joking. My dad called me every day that he read through Watcher and reminded me every single time about that.)

So off to B&N I went. I almost didn't go because I was tired and over it by that point, but I went anyhow. And you know what? I'm super glad I did because

ROMANCE FANS ARE AWESOME 

Seriously. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. Firstly, it was crammed full of people and I mean every chair was taken and when I say people, I really should say women cause let's face it, that was like 99.9% of the audience. Secondly, their excitement was infectious like a case of herpes. They chattered, squealed, whispered amongst themselves, carried their well-worn copies of this or that romance like a badge of honor. And when the authors were introduced you would've thought I was at a rock n' roll show. They whistled and clapped and even rushed the table with stuffed animals for their favorite authors.

I was gobsmacked.

And then I thought to myself, "Holy crap! These authors are rock stars to these ladies. I have entered the realm of the superfan, but I'm not at a MUSE show, I'm in the middle of Barnes and Noble. WTF?"

I have to tell you right here and now, it was surreal. They knew all the characters names, followed their stories religiously, asked questions like "Will X marry Y in the end?" and all that crazy stuff that you read about when a moviestar gets a stalker. I mean no disrespect when I say this. This was more like cute and cuddly stalker not like bat-shit-crazy-going-through-your-trash-stalker. It was fabulous. I was truly shocked and excited by their loyalty and power and their unabashed love of their genre. It made me want fans just like that. Where were my pink teddy bears and who was asking me compelling questions like was Adam truly that sexy? Or where does Poesy get her hair cut?

So hat's off to all you romance writers out there. I may soon be joining you.

 

 

2011- The year of the Ebook

I just got emailed this article about trends in ebooks for the Kindle in 2011:

Top Self-Published Kindle Ebooks of 2011

It's not often that I come across a blog with good ebook analysis. Let's face it. It's still early days in the realm of self-pubbed indie titles so getting good data isn't always easy. However, Piotr has either awed me or scared me with some of his insight. As a newly annointed indie author who has teetered on the fence several times over getting a traditional deal, his analysis does make my heart lurch a little.

The gist is

The days of making headline news for indies getting deals are over. No more Amanda Hockings. This is partly down to the exceptional indie author getting a pub deal before it becomes news (ed. – does that mean publishers are scavenging on Amazon?), but mostly it's because self-publishing isn't exciting news anymore. I tend to agree with this.
It is likely that published authors will leave publishers to self-publish and in essence swamp the indie pool.Who could blame them? Wouldn't you want more than 15%?
Indie authors will need to charge more than $.99 if they want to make a living. Again, I agree with this. At $.99 it's hard to compete with an established author when it comes to KDP select, Kindle ebook lending, KDD, etc. I experienced this first hand when I found myself buying Maggie Stiefvater's Lament for $2.99 through a KDD because I didn't want to pay $10 for it. Why buy a $.99 book when I can get an established author's book for just a little bit more?
Established, profitable indie authors may become indie publishers. How surreal will that be?
To compete going forward, indie authors need to step up to the plate and get the professionals in. Editors, cover artists, publicists, etc. if they are to truly be successful, full-time authors. Absolutely preaching to the choir here. I'm about to write a big, whiny blog post about how I should've hired an editor shortly just to highlight this point.

Okay so I'm kinda dying inside right now.

It feels a little depressing after looking at the stats, but for me, there is one glimmer of hope that no one seems to be picking up on. And the reason why I might even be looking at it this way is through my own indie experience in the games industry (ed. – God bless you Fiendish Games, Small Rockets, and all you boys who gave me some of the best times of my life). It doesn't matter if you're John Locke, John Grisham, or any other John for that matter, as long as you are YOU. It's times like this when the quirkiness that made you the loser kid in high school is going to make you the rising star in the indie field.

Be yourself even if you have to work at it. Actually, scratch that, you absolutely HAVE TO work at it. Every day. Figure out who you are, what you stand for, and search out those like-minded souls who are going to love your stuff. And this is the key – write for THEM not just yourself.

One of my favorite authors is Neil Gaiman. Oddly enough, he's not my favorite because of his work (sorry, but Anansi Boys and American Gods just didn't do it for me) but because he embodies the sort of cool and hipness that is so cool that I'm just not worthy. I mean British, wears black, created Sandman, wrote a book with Terry Pratchett, friends with the late Douglas Adams, married to Amanda Palmer. Do I need to say more? The man is God as far as I can tell.

My point before I digress is that yes, Neil does have a natural zest for coolness, but he also works at it. Anyone who follows him knows he's tapped into his fan base and they love him for it. He is a twitter/blog/name-your-social-media hero. He's everywhere, blogging/tweeting all the time (how he gets any real writing time in is beyond me). He goes to this event and that event. He road trips with Amanda. He does some wacky shit and the more he does, the more the fans love him. Hell, I'm one of those fans.

To survive in this time of weird digital indie madness you have to be true to your vision and not only should you not be afraid to embrace who you are, but you have to actively put yourself out there. I don't want to use words like brand, platform, niche, community because I think it's all just a bunch of wanky terms that some marketing fanboy made up on the back of a cocktail napkin while out pulling one night. Don't be afraid to broadcast your vision to your fans. You need them. They love you and you should love them back. In fact, love them like they were your children. They are the key to your success far more than your writing is.

 

B*tches in Bookshops (video)

My husband forwarded this to me. It's hysterical. Just in time for Virginia Festival of the Book, too.