Becky Lower's Blog, page 14

It's Giveaway Time!

It's my birthday month, and I'm celebrating. I think birthdays shouldn't be limited to a specific day, but rather should encompass the entire month. So, you might ask, what am I doing to celebrate?

Glad you asked.

I recently got the rights back to the final two books I had with Crimson Romance/Simon & Schuster. One of these was the sweet romance novella that encapsulated the meeting and romance of Charlotte and George Fitzpatrick, the heads of the Fitzpatrick household, and parents to the nine children who have their own individual stories in the Cotillion Ball books. Charlotte and George most certainly did have An Unconventional Courtship. 


So, to celebrate the re-release of this sweet book, I'm offering it up for free, all this month. Here's the link to download your free copy :https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/wPvUwkuJ
Your free copy will be available from now until the end of May. Thanks for sharing my birthday month with me. 

Roses

Anyone who has spent any time around me knows I love roses. I've had them as an integral part of my landscape and in my writing, for years. When I was in Austin, I found the Antique Rose Emporium, who specializes in (you'll never guess) antique roses. Their website even breaks down the various varieties into the type of fragrance they offer. When I moved to North Carolina, my little patch of yard had two rose bushes, leggy, spindly things. I pruned them back, fed them with my favorite rose food, and was rewarded with only one rose. One bloom for the entire season.

Sadly, it didn't even have much of a scent.

A few days ago, I was at a major home improvement store, in their outdoor section, which was bustling with folks. The woman behind me in line had a rose bush in her basket and I asked if she'd ever heard of the Antique Rose Emporium. She said she only grew Knockout roses, which have heavy blooms, but alas, no heavy scent. No scent at all.


So which way do you lean? Do you want show or do you want substance? Because roses are as much a part of me as my writing is, I favor substance. I want heavy fragrance, and continual blooms all season. I even wrote about roses in the first of the Flower Girl series. My heroine spent her days in the greenhouse, talking to her roses. I admit to doing the same.


My rose from the Antique Rose Emporium arrived yesterday. I passed on the one that smelled like pineapples in favor of an old-time musky scent. My new rose is called The Beverly. I just planted Bev in the back yard along with a huge gulp of water and some of my famous rose food. All she needs is some sunlight and she'll hopefully spread her toes in the sandy soil of North Carolina and take off.
Here's Beverly!My conversation with the stranger with the Knockout did yield something good, though. She told me of a place in Vancouver, Canada, where they have acre after acre of roses that perfume the air. I'm going to have to check it out.

Mueller Time

Like most Americans, I've been riveted to the news this week. The long-anticipated report from Bob Mueller was finally ready for viewing. The news reporters reminded me of gleeful children at Halloween with too much candy from which to choose.

Although I was pleased that I was able to understand the Cliff Notes versions of the report the news folk divulged, I was tantalized by the fact I could download and read the entire 400 pages. I googled how to do it, hit the button, and had this strange screen appear on my computer. I couldn't get rid of it and get back to the normal screen of favorites that I see whenever I open Safari. So I decided to shut down and restart my computer to try to get rid of it. By the way, I didn't get the report. One more thing to blame Trump for.

When I started the computer back up again, I was instructed to enter my password, which I did. However, Apple didn't recognize that password and asked if I wanted to reset. I went along with them, tried a new password, and got the message that this computer wasn't eligible for a new Apple ID. I was effectively locked out of my computer.

Since the nearest Genius Bar is two hours away, I called the Apple help line. It took hours to figure out what had happened. My frustration level hit an all-time high, since I'm not the most tech savvy person on the planet. But in the end, they figured out what had happened and how to get rid of the annoying screen. And they cleaned up a lot of space on my computer, helping me eliminate old programs that were occupying way too many gigabytes, or whatever.

I still have no copy of the report, but have decided that's okay. I'd rather have a functioning computer so I can make a living. Maybe I should stay away from politics.

Advertising Hype

I attended a writer's conference this weekend. It had been billed as an A to Z of self-publishing, and since I'd just regained the rights to two of my books, I thought it a timely discussion. So, despite the prediction of rain all day, off I went, on a 3-hour round trip in the pouring rain to have the speaker impart her words of wisdom. Come hell or high water, I wasn't about to miss this talk.

When I arrived at my location, it wasn't just raining–it was pouring. Sheets of rain slammed down on the hood of my car.

My in-car umbrella decided to play hide and seek with me, so I sat for a few minutes in the downpour, hoping for a break–which didn't happen. I wasn't about to sit in the parking lot and miss the meeting, so I took off at a brisk walk toward the door.

Brisk pace or not, by the time I got inside the building I was drenched. My t-shirt clung to my back in a cold, icy grip and I could feel my muscles begin to seize up. My shoes made little squishy noises as I walked across the marble floor. My hair, never known for putting on a good show, gave up completely and dribbled onto my cheeks. A quick check in the ladies' room proved what I'd already guessed. I looked like something the cat had drug in, after she tossed me in a few puddles.



I wiped the mascara off my face, propped my wet locks behind my ears, and proceeded to the meeting. I am nothing if not motivated and persistent. But, alas, here's where the problem began. (I  know what you're thinking...)

Either I'd read the wrong meeting blurb or the speaker had, but the talk wasn't about self-publishing at all. Rather, it was how to write and market a book. The speaker had come prepared with a slide show and handouts. Which she then proceeded to read.

This type of speaker has always bothered me. I'm a writer, as is everyone else in this meeting. Which means we know how to read. Words are our business. I don't need someone to read for me what I can read on the screen myself. I want embellishment on the points being flashed on the screen. So I got grumpy. Not only was I not getting the talk I'd driven here for, it was being read from a screen to me, as if I couldn't make out the words on my own.

Or maybe I was just cold and damp. The puddle under my seat kept growing.

After spending most of my professional life in the advertising business, you'd think I'd have learned not to trust the advertising hype. I sat quietly, damp and cold, and kicked myself for not double checking the agenda. Then, the speaker told me something new. Something I'd never thought of before. Eureka!

As I drove home, I realized hell hadn't come to North Carolina, but some of the rivers were running out of their banks. And while I didn't learn anything about self-publishing, I learned something. Time well spent.

Fast Or Slow?

Early on in my writing career, I attended a lecture held by Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Jayne Anne Krentz. Their wit, and their obvious friendship with each other was inspiring. But what struck me most was the different approach they each took to their writing. One wrote very fast, the other took a more slow approach. The takeaway from this meeting was I needed to figure out which approach worked best for me and not be swayed or intimidated by another author's output. What was important was to keep the storyline moving toward "the end" every day.

I took their advice to heart and now, with 19 books under my belt and more than that under the bed, I've found an agreeable pace for myself. I know the first 500 words are the hardest for me each day. It's like I'm slogging through mud as each word is slow to develop, elusive and just out of my grasp. But I also know that at some point during those 500 words the scene takes over and the remaining 500 words of my daily output are quick to follow. I can sometimes get to 2,000 words a day, but that's a rarity. But looking at the big picture helps. If I write 1000 words a day, in two months' time, I will have a flash first draft of a book. Usually it works.

But my current WIP has altered my formula. I began the book in early February, so according to my timeline, I should have the first draft completed by now. Not happening. There's something about these characters–Pippa and Daniel–and something about the time period –the American Revolutionary War–that keeps me adding to the story line.


I'm only about halfway to the end of the story and all they've managed to do is share some cheroots and a couple of kisses. Yes, Pippa likes the occasional cigar and blows some impressive smoke rings. By the time I crawl to "the end" I figure I'll have a first draft of about 80,000 words. Usually I need to go back through my flash draft and add in description and emotion, fleshing out the structure. In this case, I may have to cut words from it
Life could be worse.

How about you? Do you write fast, like Jayne Anne, or slow, like Susan Elizabeth?

There's Still Time!

I know April Fool's Day is tomorrow, but I am not pulling your leg.

I'm giving away my books.

Yep, that's right. For the first time ever,  I am offering up a free copy of my novella. A Regency Yuletide is a Christmas novel which is short, sweet, and tied up with a red ribbon. Any month of the year is a good month to read about the magic of Christmas. There are a few copies remaining, so head on over to the link and add this to your Kindle TBR pile:

https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/8twdm


Book Six in the Cotillion Ball series released last week, too. The Duplicitous Debutante features Rosemary Fitzpatrick, who has created a business for herself as the author of dime novels in 1850s New York. However, no one is aware that the author of this wildly successful series is a woman. Dime novels were the precursor to the paperback book of today. They opened the door for millions of Americans to read for pleasure for the first time. Thanks to a combination of better education, revolutions in printing, and a less demanding work schedule, people now had time to read, and the dime novel was what they were reading. Here's a cover example of the dime novel.

Most of these tales were over-the-top stories about America's wild west. Here's a bit of Rosemary's offerings about her hero, Harry Hawk: 
Harry Hawk and the Tycoon’s Daughter—Book Six in the Harry Hawk Series
Harry Hawk stared down the barrel of his Colt .45. A huge Sioux Indian was in his sights, but was holding the girl in front of him as a shield. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she struggled against the man, and she trembled as she kept her eyes on the end of Harry’s gun.

“What are you doing, Screaming Eagle?” Harry tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

“Her father is running the railroad through Sioux land.”

“And by kidnapping his daughter, you think he’ll sit down and smoke a peace pipe with you?”

The Indian tossed back his long, straight, black hair and tightened his hold on the woman. Harry’s grip on his gun tightened as well when her whimper reached his ears.

“Come on, you’re doing the wrong thing and you know it.”

“White man does us wrong, we do same.”

“And two wrongs don’t make a right.” Harry glanced from the sniveling woman to the Indian. “Your father would not be pleased with this behavior, Screaming Eagle. Hiding behind a woman’s skirts.”

The Indian hesitated, then shoved the girl at Harry. “Take her, then. But keep everyone off our land.”

“I can’t promise that, Screaming Eagle. You’re raising a stink with the railroad, when it should be with the government. Not these honest, hard-working men who are just trying to build a railroad.”

“So bring me your chief, and we’ll talk.”

Harry smiled wryly as he thought of President Buchanan sitting down with Screaming Eagle and negotiating a land treaty. The man couldn’t maintain order in the civilized part of the United States. He couldn’t possibly interact with Indians.

“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you lie low, and I’ll try to smooth things over with the rail boss.”

The woman Screaming Eagle had thrust into his arms fainted. Great, Harry thought as he slung her over his shoulder.

If you'd like to read the rest of Harry's adventures, you'll have to buy The Duplicitous Debutante.

Here's the link:

 https://amzn.to/2Fh0JZz

On Being a Hybrid Author

By the end of this month, I will be able to retrieve the rights to the last remaining books held by Simon & Schuster. It has taken over a year to dissolve my relationship with them, and right now, I'm still represented by three different publishers. I'm considering what to do with these last two books. Should I try self-publishing again? My first trip down that road was a failure, but I learned a lot.

A hybrid author, for those reading this blog who are readers rather than authors, is one who has a toe in both traditional publishing and self publishing. There are benefits and drawbacks to each type of publishing, and it is refreshing for an author to finally have a choice in the matter, rather than to wait anxiously for word from a traditional house that they want, or reject, your work.

But as much as the freedom to be your own boss is with self publishing, there's something to be said for belonging to a traditional house as well. In addition to the marketing support you get, which in most cases is marginal, you become part of a sisterhood that can extend far past your contract with the publisher. Your universe of like-minded people grows with each publishing house and the benefits are great. Fellow authors are a great support system, and the more ways you can grow that list, the better.

I recently finished a manuscript and sent it off to a new-to-me publisher in hopes they'll consider it. Why would I consider adding a fourth house? To meet new people, to expand my reader base, to not place all my eggs in one basket. Take your pick of reasons. As for the two books reverting back to me? They may become my next attempts at self-publishing. Time will tell.

Creating Your Team

Since moving to North Carolina a year ago, I've tried out five different hair studios in an attempt to find someone who understands my vision and can offer advice and counsel. My hair is thin and fine, so it needs a special kind of cut by someone who understands that not every head of hair is the same. So far, no luck, but there are many hair salons yet to go.

But it got me to thinking about how similar building a support team for your personal life is to building a support team for a writing career. Regardless of which route you take in publishing, you still need an editor, or an agent, or an author coach, a critique partner, or just a like-minded individual to bounce ideas off. You want to listen to their concerns, consider their reasons for why to do or not do something in your manuscript or to your characters or your career, yet you don't want to ever lose your original vision, your original voice. It's a fine line to walk and sometimes you have to put your foot down, even when it makes you uncomfortable to do so.

Which is what I'm doing with my quest for a decent hair salon. I live in an area with a healthy dose of senior citizens and, since I have white hair, when a hairdresser sees me coming in, they automatically think "little old lady haircut coming up." But although I might fit into that category chronologically, I am far from a "little old lady" and refuse to be categorized as such. I explain in no uncertain terms what type of cut I want, I show them a picture of my vision, and if they insist on giving me the little old lady cut, I'll put my foot down and move on to the next, even though the place has been highly recommended by friends.

Fortunately, my hair grows fast, so next month I may find a hairdresser that I like. And I may find a new publisher for my latest endeavor. Someone who loves my voice and vision. Fingers crossed, on both counts.

Wanting More

If you're an author, you can be inundated with people who will tell you the best way to spend your marketing budget to guarantee you'll make boatloads of money in royalties.

The problem is, everyone offers different advice, and, if you send them money and buy their how-to books or videos, chances are the only ones who will see those boatloads of money are the ones giving the advice. The rest of us will continue to throw darts and hope for the best.

Most every author, after the initial euphoria of seeing their name in print, wants to make enough money to be able to quit the day job and spend their days in their heads, creating new, awesome stories for their readers' voracious appetites. But the hard truth of being a writer is this is a very hard business to figure out. And the odds of making the big time are long. A Huffington Post article stated recently that barely 2 percent of the total books published sold more than 5,000 copies. The average is less than 500 copies.

So why do we do it? Continue to bang our foreheads on the wall, trying to figure out how to get folks to find your precious book and read it? And after they read it, leave a positive review of it in the hopes it may catch the attention of another reader?

The reason is very simple. The voices in our heads need to have a mouthpiece. If we didn't have the creative outlet that publishing a book provides, we'd probably all end up in the loony bin with multiple personality disorder. Marketing of those precious books will continue to be a mystery, a moving target. Some of us will figure it out, but most of us will be in that less than 500 copies area.

We may want more, but we'll continue to do what we do best. Write the next story. Maybe it will be the one that has the magic juice and makes it to the big time.

March Comes In Like A Lion

It's finally March!

February may be the shortest month of the year, but it seems to take its sweet old time getting done. Bad weather, clogged highways, missed deadlines–all happen in February.

But it's March!

Time for new beginnings. I'm pleased to announce that two of my Cotillion books will be re-released in March. Blinded By Grace is one of my favorites, since it deals with the eldest son of the family, Halwyn, and how he only needed a pair of eyeglasses to see what had been in front of him all along. Here's the new, snazzy cover, and the blurb:

In 1858 New York City, Halwyn Fitzpatrick thinks he's off the hook for attendance at the annual Cotillion Ball. He has no sister to shepherd down the grand staircase this year and no real desire to go through the rituals of courtship and betrothal himself. Besides, he'll know the right girl when he sees her, especially now that he has new spectacles. But his mother has other plans for him. At twenty-seven years of age, her son is in dire need of a wife.
Grace Wagner needs a husband by July in order to inherit the trust her father has left for her. Her stepfather, though, has plans for the money that don't include Grace, and the last thing he wants is for her to find a husband before she turns twenty-one, thereby fulfilling the terms of the trust. She's been in love with Halwyn since she was thirteen, but he hasn't noticed her at any of the balls they've been at over the years. With the aid of his new glasses, he spies Grace from across the room and they share a dance. Grace decides to present him with a business proposition that will satisfy them both. But can a clueless knight in shining armor and a desperate damsel in distress find a way to turn this marriage of convenience into something more?








The Duplicitous Debutante is another favorite, since Rosemary Fitzpatrick is an author who writes Penny Dreadfuls, but under an assumed name–a name everyone believes to belong to a man. 

In 1859, ladies of New York society are expected to do three things well: find a husband, organize a household, and have children. But despite her mother's best intentions, making her debut is the last thing on Rosemary Fitzpatrick's mind. Writing the popular Harry Hawk dime novels as F.P. Elliott, she's too busy hiding her female identity from her new publisher, Henry Cooper. To protect her clandestine career, she ends up posing as the enigmatic author's secretary.
Henry is not the typical Boston Brahmin, nor the typical publisher, and Rosemary entrances him from the moment they meet. As they work together and grow closer, he wonders how his traditional-minded father will react when he brings her into the family, because Henry firmly intends to marry the working-class woman.
But when her deception begins to unravel at the cotillion ball, will Henry be able to forgive her or has deceit cost her the man she loves?









This entire series is set during one of the most tumultuous times in American history–westward expansion, the suffragette movement, the abolitionist movement, the Civil War and Reconstruction. I've loved taking this ordinary, well-bred family and tossing each member into the midst of history. Sometimes their choices surprised even me, the author. Each book in this series features a different sibling, all of them named after an herb or spice. And although each book can be read as a stand alone, it's fun to see how the siblings and their parents, Charlotte and George, pop in and out of each story. If you've been with me since this journey began, let me know which book was your favorite. If you're new to the series, they're now available on Kindle Unlimited for the first time.

Hope you enjoy the break in the weather and the Cotillion Ball series.