Zachary Katz-Stein's Blog, page 5

Free Write, 08/20/15

Prompt: She is just a good-looking woman.

Image via Flickr by Alpha

She is just a good-looking woman. Don’t go and do something stupid now. Even as these words of sense and caution crossed her mind, Ava knew it was pointless. She felt herself float from her body, watching from above as it approached the woman in the elegantly tailored suit. Down below, Ava’s nervous hands smoothed her apron.

“Can I get you anything to start with?” Ava winced at how breathy her voice sounded. Can you be any more obvious?

The woman looked up from her menu, one perfectly plucked brow arching. “Well, aren’t you cute as a hamster eating a tiny burrito?”

Ava blinked and was back in her body. “What?”

“I said I’ll have the Cobb salad and a diet coke.” Her mouth puckered. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Ava said. “The salad and the diet coke. I’ll be right back with it.” She turned and hurried away, nearly tripping over the stupid half stair that separated this dining area from the bar.

“Another pretty one eh?” Deshaun, the bartender, laughed. “Girl, you gotta get your head straight. Or, better yet, you need a good woman.”

Ava’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t reply.

According to her parents, she could have a good woman or be a good woman, and Ava knew which she’d choose.

Young Writers: Don’t Self-Publish

Allow me to preface this article by saying that I know a lot of good people who self-publish. I fully recognize that it’s possible to become a successful author by self-publishing. This article is not meant deny anyone’s accomplishments or talent. It is simply the advice I wish someone had given me three years ago.

If writing is your passion, self-publishing is a gratifying option. When you tell people that you’re a writer they’ll say, “So, is your work available?”

And you can say, “Yes! It’s on Amazon. You can get it on your Kindle or you can order a physical copy. They’ll print one and send it to you. That’s how print on demand works.”

The stranger’s eyebrows will lift. “Wow, isn’t modern technology amazing?”

You’ll smile. “It sure is!”

It’s a nice exchange, one I’ve experienced many times during the last three years as a self-publishing author. If it’s this experience that you’re looking for, you should self-publish.

However, if you want to make writing your profession, not just your passion, traditional publishing is the best way to go.

For an unknown author, it isn’t even close.

This is the tough love missing from the conversation around self-publishing right now.

Or, maybe I just didn’t want to listen to the warning calls when I was making my decision. I don’t know. All I can do is share what I’ve learned and hope that someone will listen to the advice that I did not.

So, here’s why authors who want to make a living selling books should not self-publish.

Publishing Costs

When you self-publish, it’s possible to produce a book for free. You can upload anything to Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) or Createspace and you will have a book. However, if you want to produce a professional quality manuscript, you’re going to incur some costs.

At minimum you will need:

A professional proofreader, $1-3 per double spaced page (I paid $585 for my first book)
A professional ebook formatter, $50-75
A professional cover artist, $300-2,000

Estimated total: $900

This calculation assumes your work is novel length (around 70-90,000 words), that you have beta readers you trust to give honest feedback, and that you’re willing to take your manuscript through several drafts alone.

To be fair: you might have art professionals in your life that could help with the book cover. That would bring the total down to $500-600, assuming they are as good as the $300 cover.

At this point you have a “professional” book. I put “professional” in quotes because it probably isn’t really publishing house quality yet.

Hopefully it’s free of spelling, grammar, and consistency errors, but unless your beta readers are truly incredible (by which I mean they are literary professionals, not just incredible people), they simply aren’t viable substitutes for a professional editor.

I can’t find this quote, but I clearly remember reading an author interview a couple years ago in which the author said something like, “the difference between my work before my editor took a look at it and after he (she) was done is like the difference between chicken salad and chicken shit.”

This quote is burned into my memory because it made me feel incredibly guilty. I was a young self-publishing author and simply didn’t have $1,200-3,000 to spend on a professional editor.

So, let’s take a realistic look at what it would cost to produce a book that’s just as professional as you could through traditional publishing:

Editor, $1,500
Proofreader (they’re different), $500
Cover artist, $500
Formatter, $75

Total: $2,575

Traditional publishers cover all these costs. That’s a HUGE perk.

Too good to be true? There are other costs. Instead of money, working with a publisher takes patience, emotional fortitude, and a loss of creative control.

When submitting a manuscript to an agent or publisher, you must accept that you will face rejection, probably a lot of rejection. Because the agent or publisher is going to invest significant time and/or money into your book, they are very selective. Their entire business model revolves around them betting on the right horse and it takes something really special to convince them that you’re a good bet.

The difficulty of getting through this door is one of the main reasons self-publishing is so popular, particularly among young writers. That’s what happened to me.

I couldn’t get the first book I wrote traditionally published and was unable to let it go. I heard other writers say things like, “the first million words you write will be garbage,” and my cheeks burned with an internal understanding that I didn’t want to admit.

My first book wasn’t very good. I think it had many redeeming qualities and, for a first effort, it’s surprisingly readable, but it wasn’t publishing house quality.

To pursue traditional publishing you must be prepared to hear that your work isn’t good enough, or isn’t right for a specific company, and still go on. This takes the proverbial “skin like rhino hide,” but it also takes an understanding of what professional quality writing actually is and when it’s time to rewrite, or scrap, a project.

That level of self-awareness is hard to develop. It’s hard at any stage in your writing career, but particularly with your first book when you’ve just invested however many months, or years, of your life and creative energy. It hurts to think that this energy was wasted.

But here’s the thing: it wasn’t wasted. It was just an apprentice piece. If you’re serious about being a professional author, keep chipping away at those million words. The only way past is through.

Let’s pretend you’ve been accepted by a publishing house. The next thing working with the team will cost is creative control. The publishing house gets to choose your book’s title, your cover design, and they pick your editor, who will probably make some painful changes to your manuscript.

As artists, this loss of this creative control rankles deep.

Yet, as I continue to grow as an author and a person, I’m beginning to recognize that most great books are collaborative projects. I’m starting to grasp something that should have been obvious long ago: most people in publishing (editors, agents, publishers) love books.

I’m not a traditionally published author, so I can’t tell you any of the specific frustrations I’m certain accompany working on a team of disparate personalities. However, after attending the Antioch Writer’s Workshop and actually meeting a few publishing professionals, it’s clear that most of them are readers.

If you find the right team, I’m convinced the collaboration between author and publishing house can be harmonious.

Bottom line: weigh $2,500 against the time it takes to get pulled out of the slush pile at an agency or publishing house (generally on the scale of 1-5 years).

Marketing

Whether you self-publish or are picked up by a publisher, you will have to promote your work.

As an aspiring author, I thought that getting traditionally published meant they handled all the icky business stuff. I would write and they would sell, that was deal circling my fevered imagination.

This is not the case. However, in the self-publishing community, there seems to be a lot of hate directed at publishing houses for doing a bad job promoting books, which really confuses me.

The way I see it, any help or money you receive from the publishing house for marketing your book is more help than you’d get if you self-publish. It’s all net positive.

“But they’re taking so much of your money,” you might be thinking. “They need to bring something to the table.”

Ignoring book production costs for a moment, let’s talk about that.

Money

This is what successful self-publishing authors like to crow about. The royalty rates for self-published books are undeniably better. Most self-published KDP books are earning 70% royalties and while physical books published through Createspace, or IngramSpark, don’t earn quite so much, they still pay better than the 8-10% that you’d get from traditional publishing.

Yet, I’d still argue that any debut author will still make more money with a publisher.

Why?

Because they’ll give you an advance against royalties. The standard advance for a new author is between $5,000 and $7,500. To be conservative, let’s work with $5,000.

To earn $5,000 by self-publishing a book you’d need to sell around 2,000 copies. It might be more or less depending on the price of your book and how you made the sales, but I think 2,000 is a fair estimate.

Few debut self-publishing authors sell 2,000 copies.

There are exceptions. There are stories of instant sensations that were passed over by publishing companies only to become bestsellers on more than just Amazon. But that’s not what happens to most people.

The only self-publishing authors I know of who make the kind of money traditionally published authors do either a) were traditionally published for a while and have an established following, b) have a side business in the self-publishing industry (like starting their own PR firm), or c) have the time/money to travel and promote their work around the country.

You can’t fit into category “a” until you have a following. Option “b” will work, but it will divide your energy, and most people simply don’t have the resources for option “c.”

Also, people in categories “b” and “c” often get joyfully scooped up by a traditional publisher, so I’m not really sure they count as examples of “successful self-publishing” unless you want to argue that the goal self-publishing is to get traditionally published.

It happens. Publishers do sometimes pick up a book that was self-published, pretty it up a little, and then re-release it. However, it doesn’t happen often. To impress a publisher, you need to dazzle them with your sales. You must be able to say, “look, I sold 10,000 copies all by myself, if we work together we could sell 100,000!”

The road to financial security as an author is far more direct if you just work hard, endure your rejections, and get traditionally published.

Respect

As a whole, self-published books will never be as good as traditionally published books.

There are exceptions. Great books are sometimes self-published, but because the hated “guardians at the gate” are gone, there’s an ocean of substandard fare as well.

Readers know it. Other authors know it. You know it.

Even successful self-publishing authors struggle with the perception that they’re only self-publishing because they couldn’t get picked up by a traditional publisher. This goes double for young authors.

You know why?

Because it’s probably true.

Writing is a craft. It takes time, practice, and possibly those million words to get good enough that people want to part with their hard earned cash for things you’ve created. Be patient.

As hard as it is, give yourself the time to write something amazing and get it noticed.

Also, I urge you to attend writing workshops and to take writing classes. They makes a big difference.

What Now?

“So,” you might be thinking. “You’ve convinced me. But aren’t you a self-publishing author? What are you going to do now?”

I’m going to take my books off the market.

All of them.

It physically hurts typing those words. Not only because taking my books down feels like failure, but because of the conversation at the beginning on this essay. For the last three years when someone asked, “What do you do?”

I could say, “I teach yoga and self-publish books.”

Their eyes would widen and a slight smile touched their lips. “Wow. That sounds like a charmed life.”

I always smiled back. “It is.”

And it was, for the most part. I loved working on my books and writing for this blog. I even enjoyed building a social media platform. I really did not enjoy fighting with Createspace, KDP, and trying to learn IngramSpark, but I didn’t have to deal with those very often.

What I hated, what sucked the joy out of the journey, was feeling like a failure and an imposter.

I’ve self-published two books and neither has sold more than 200 copies. I do not introduce myself as an author. I am a yoga teacher and I have self-published books, but I’m not a professional author. I’m not.

People (aka my mother) have tried to convince me that I’ve accomplished something these past three years. I’ve written four books and self-published two of them. I’m making “measurable progress” they say. But it doesn’t feel true. It feels like I’m spinning my wheels.

I’m not alone. The “imposter syndrome” is common among authors. Yet, I’d argue that for a young, self-publishing author who’s experienced very limited success, it’s much worse.

To join the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, you must either get professionally published, or make $3,000 in a year from one of your books. That’s almost certainly not going to happen for me through self-publishing.

Beyond conventional literary acceptance, however, I want to make money selling my books. I don’t want to turn 30 (or whatever age responsibility is supposed to strike) and have to get a “real job.” Teaching yoga supports me right now, barely, but there’s a limit to how much it can grow. If I can actually make money with my writing, suddenly my lifestyle becomes a lot more sustainable.

So, as always, I’m striving, dreaming, going for broke…or, hopefully less broke. That’s the goal.

Taking my books off the market isn’t a sign that I’m giving up on my dream of becoming an author. It’s a reaffirmation of that dream. This is what I want to do with my life. Getting there is just going to require some course adjustments.

 

The Lonely Castle

10 minute middle grade flash fiction.

Prompt: People think of me as an uncommon boy because of my castle.

People think of me as an uncommon boy because of my castle, but, really, what difference does that make? All it really means is I’m well acquainted with how to clean a castle, drafty halls, and how to properly tuck-point things. What could be more normal than that?

I suppose not everyone reclines in claw footed armchairs on rainy afternoons when they curl up with a good book, and, yes, I do mean book. We don’t get cell service through our think stone walls and just forget about WiFi. Even if my anachronistic parents would consider installing “the instrument of societal doom” within their domain, we would still have trouble with signal strength. It would take a damn good router to reach all 57 rooms, basement, and surrounding acreage. And, without complete coverage, what’s the point?

It’s not like I get bored. I have old armor to play with, shelves to polish, horses to ride, and poltergeists to exorcise. What little boy could ask for me? Except, maybe, a friend…

Free Write, 06/29/15

Prompt: People think of me as an uncommon boy because of my castle.

People think of me as an uncommon boy because of my castle, but, really, what difference does that make? All it really means is I’m well acquainted with how to clean a castle, drafty halls, and how to properly tuck-point things. What could be more normal than that?

I suppose not everyone reclines in claw footed armchairs on rainy afternoons when they curl up with a good book, and, yes, I do mean book. We don’t get cell service through our think stone walls and just forget about WiFi. Even if my anachronistic parents would consider installing “the instrument of societal doom” within their domain, we would still have trouble with signal strength. It would take a damn good router to reach all 57 rooms, basement, and surrounding acreage. And, without complete coverage, what’s the point?

It’s not like I get bored. I have old armor to play with, shelves to polish, horses to ride, and poltergeists to exorcise. What little boy could ask for me? Except, maybe, a friend…

The Afterlife

10 minute flash fiction.

Prompt: I was born in a laboratory, grew up in a factory, and died in an asylum.

“I was born in a laboratory, grew up in a factory, and died in an asylum,” Genevieve said, raising her china teacup to her lips, little finger extended. “But enough about me, what about you?”

“Well,” Jackson answered. “I was born in an asylum, grew up in a factory, and died in a laboratory.”

Genevieve’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, my perfect yin.”

“Hey,” Jackson protested. “Why can’t I be yang? I am a man, after all.”

“Are you really?”

“Well, I was a man,” Jackson conceded, looking down at the androgynous, flowing robes that covered him. “I suppose I still am, though I haven’t thought to check.”

“You can’t check,” Genevieve said. “Trust me, I’ve tried. Your hands just go straight through.”

Jackson grunted. “You’re right. What a strange feelings, or rather, not feeling.”

“I know,” Genevieve said, setting her cup down. “It takes quite a bit of getting used to, but I suppose it’s the only way to make sure everyone feels safe. These robes hide gender and body type, so there can be no discrimination on that account.”

“But our faces are still visible.”

“Are they?”

Jackson blinked. “Well, aren’t they?”

“What race were you, when you were alive?”

“Caucasian,” Jackson said slowly, “just like you.”

“No,” Jen said, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I was Chinese. I look white because that’s what your mind sees. To me you look very Chinese.”

“That’s…fucked up.”

“It surely is.”

Free Write, 06/23/15

Prompt: I was born in a laboratory, grew up in a factory, and died in an asylum.

“I was born in a laboratory, grew up in a factory, and died in an asylum,” Genevieve said, raising her china teacup to her lips, little finger extended. “But enough about me, what about you?”

“Well,” Jackson answered. “I was born in an asylum, grew up in a factory, and died in a laboratory.”

Genevieve’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, my perfect yin.”

“Hey,” Jackson protested. “Why can’t I be yang? I am a man, after all.”

“Are you really?”

“Well, I was a man,” Jackson conceded, looking down at the androgynous, flowing robes that covered him. “I suppose I still am, though I haven’t thought to check.”

“You can’t check,” Genevieve said. “Trust me, I’ve tried. Your hands just go straight through.”

Jackson grunted. “You’re right. What a strange feelings, or rather, not feeling.”

“I know,” Genevieve said, setting her cup down. “It takes quite a bit of getting used to, but I suppose it’s the only way to make sure everyone feels safe. These robes hide gender and body type, so there can be no discrimination on that account.”

“But our faces are still visible.”

“Are they?”

Jackson blinked. “Well, aren’t they?”

“What race were you, when you were alive?”

“Caucasian,” Jackson said slowly, “just like you.”

“No,” Jen said, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I was Chinese. I look white because that’s what your mind sees. To me you look very Chinese.”

“That’s…fucked up.”

“It surely is.”

Free Write, 06/22/15

Prompt: One more magical experiment gone haywire and I’m going to kill her” – seventh sanctum

One more magical experiment gone haywire and I’m going to kill her, Halifax thought. Bad enough that I had those horns for six months, but that explosion sounded like it might have taken out the entire third floor!

Of course, the “entire third floor” consisted of a single room, so it wouldn’t have taken a very large explosion to topple it.

Halifax took the spiral staircase two at a time, climbing to the experimental spire. “Galina!” he cried, one hand lifting to cover his mouth, protecting it from the black smoke that was roiling out of a hole where a solid oak door should be. “Galina, are you alive?”

“Ow,” a voice said feebly.

Halifax leaped onto the landing and surveyed the damage. Or, he tried to. It was difficult to see with all the smoke. “Window,” Galina croaked, but Halifax was already moving. He threw open the wooden shutters and furiously beat the air with a paper fan, dispersing the smoke.

As the smog cleared it became apparent that little had been damaged. The bookshelves still ringed the room, supporting their leather tomes, and his favorite armchair was unharmed. Halifax frowned. What had caused all the smoke?

Then he noticed Galina sitting on the floor, rubbing her backside. “Why are you on the floor?” Halifax asked stupidly.

Galina just grinned up at him. “Why do you think?”

Then Halifax noticed what was missing: Galina’s desk and chair. They were simply gone. Halifax’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

May 2015

Highlights:

Finished draft 2 of The Sign of Fur
Received first draft of the cover for The Sign of Fur
Sent A Study In Cutlets to Kenyon for the Alumni Bulletin
Sold about 10 copies of A Study In Cutlets
Wrote two Essays

Day-By-Day:

Friday, Nothing.
Saturday, Day Off!
Sunday, Nothing.
Monday, Published April report and created this one, wrote down ideas for blog articles, wrote Raising Cats: an Exercise in Non-Attachment, shared said article on Facebook and Twitter.
Tuesday, Read over chapter 4 of The Sign of Fur (Note: seems good, though I may want to double check the descriptions of Tad to make sure they are consistent.), Updated Twitter and spend some time on Goodreads.
Wednesday, Nothing book related, but we did make an offer on a house!
Thursday, Read and edited chapter 5 of The Sign of Fur.
Friday, Sold two books and placed five in a local salon on consignment.
Saturday, Day Off!
Sunday, Received $25 because all five books placed in the salon sold immediately!
Monday, Reached out to two salons about carrying my books as I might have just stumbled upon an excellent marketing technique, edited chapter 6 in The Sign of Fur, updated Facebook and Twitter. Also, received a draft of the cover for The Sign of Fur.
Tuesday, Replied to email from cover designer because it’s amazing! …and nothing else because I was sick!
Wednesday, Wrote 450 words in an alternate version of chapter 7 for The Sign of Fur. The goal is to address consistent feedback that too much of the story takes place in the past by adding some present action and trying to cut down on narration.
Thursday, Nothing.
Friday, Nothing.
Saturday, Day off! Also, went to a fun LARP event
Sunday, Nothing.
Monday, Finished the new version of chapter 7 in The Sign of Fur (something like 900 words).
Tuesday, Nothing.
Wednesday, Started a transition to chapter 8 for the new version of chapter 7 in The Sign of Fur.
Thursday, Finished the transition, then reread chapters 7 and 8 to make sure they are good and actually make sense.
Friday, Nothing.
Saturday, Day off!
Sunday, Worked on an essay that I may or may not actually publish.
Monday, Put four copies of A Study In Cutlets on consignment with a local hair salon.
Tuesday, Read/edited chapters 9, 10, 11 and 12 in The Sign of Fur,  Updated Facebook and Twitter, investigated new advertising opportunity (BookBub – and actually applied for a promotion). I also sent a review copy of A Study In Cutlets to the Kenyon Office of Public Affairs so it can be included in the Alumni Bulletin.
Wednesday, Nothing.
Thursday, Added the new version of chapter 7 in The Sign of Fur, and smoothed some edges. Draft 2 is essentially done.
Friday, Away at an all day yoga training.
Saturday, Away at an all day yoga training.
Sunday, Away at an all day yoga training.

 

Raising Cats: an Exercise in Non-Attachment

Unlike dogs and children, cats don’t care about your approval or disapproval. Some people think this means that cat’s don’t love you, or aren’t happy to see you. These people have clearly never raised a cat.

When Firefly or Igmu walk up, flop on my lap, and start purring like mad, or when they slow blink at me (a sign of trust and affection), I know they love me.

However, when they lay down on my keyboard or book, bite my ankles while I’m trying to work, or continually knock over the trashcan (Igmu), I’m forced to recognize that they really don’t care about my displeasure. All they want is a little attention, and negative attention is as satisfactory as positive attention (as long as it isn’t violent, obviously).

Because negative attention is perfectly acceptable to them, the only really effective punishment for my girls is to simply stand up and walk away. At first, I did this often.

I would be working when one of them would come bite my ankles. I would stand immediately and walk into the bedroom. A stern rebuke for interrupting me while I was working – or so I thought.

I would then count to thirty (or to ten if I was feeling impatient), walk back, and resume working. More often than not, my assailant would be waiting for me, ready to pounce my ankles again. I might get a few minutes of work in before the attack, at which point I would stand up, walk into the bedroom and start counting.

Some days it felt like I was doing some strange calisthenics rather than actually working. Sit, work fingers for two minutes, stand, walk ten paces, sit, count, stand, walk ten paces, sit, work fingers, repeat. It sounds almost meditative when I type it out, but certainly didn’t feel meditative at the time.

Other days, I would work with one hand while using the other to slowly twirl the cat dazzler (a long plastic rod with a longer strip of felt on one end) to keep my kittens occupied. This wasn’t a very satisfying solution, however, because working with one hand is less than half as effective as working with two, and the cats quickly grew board of this joyless play and returned to my ankles.

When my temper reached it’s breaking point, I’d pick them up (a mistake because that’s only reinforcing their behavior with touch), carry them into the bedroom, and shut the door. Sometimes they’d accept this exile gracefully and go to sleep, sometimes they’d scratch at the door and meow piteously until I relented and let them out again.

It was a frustrating state of affairs that occasionally drove me out of the house and into the local Starbucks, or Fiddleheads, to work.

Then something changed. I can’t really tell you what it was, or when it happened, but now, instead of becoming frustrated with the kittens, I give them attention.

Please don’t misunderstand, I didn’t neglect them before. I played with them when I could muster up the energy and enthusiasm, and I cuddled them as much as they would let me, but always on my schedule – my terms.

When I felt able to play, we played. When I wanted to cuddle on the couch, I would scoop one up and bring her to the couch – though it should be noted that I would quickly release said kitten if she tried to escape (or, as Hannah and I gleefully call it, “eh-sca-pé!”).

Now, however, I try to be more open. When I’m working and Igmu nips my ankles, I’ll reach down and pick her up. She doesn’t bite hard. She was just letting me know that she was there and wanted some attention. I’ll hold her for a little while and scratch her under the chin, or behind the ears. She might be satisfied with that, or she might need to run around a little, in which case I’ll get up and play with her for a few minutes. Then I’ll go back to work.

Often, that’s enough. Five minutes of my time and full attention, and she’s ready to go nap in a sunbeam (literally). I then go back to work feeling affectionate and loving, rather than frustrated and angry.

The truth is: I don’t need to so attached to what I’m doing.

Focus is good. Discipline is good. But so is the ability to switch off your work brain and pay your full attention to someone who loves you.

Of course, like many of my personal epiphanies, my ability to live up to this one comes and goes. When I’m reading on the couch and Firefly walks up and sits on my book, I’m not always able to switch tasks, but I want to be able to.

I want to be flexible, compassionate, and loving, both in my home and in the world. Thus, I’m grateful to my girls for this exercise in non-attachment to activities. May it help me connect with my best self.

Om Shanti.

April 2015

Highlights:

More like “Summary” this month because there were so many days were I didn’t update this post that day, and then completely forgot what I did.
Mostly took it easy, went on vacations, and reached out to local schools.

Day-By-Day:

Wednesday, Nothing.
Thursday, Published last month’s progress report and created this one, followed up with studio owner about my book reading next Sunday, submitted to a 140 character story contest for fun (here’s my entry: Iggy the cat wants to sleep. The bathroom door is open. There will be time enough for napping once all the toilet paper has been shredded.), updated Facebook and Twitter.
Friday, Driving to Ohio for Passover
Saturday, Day off/vacationing with family
Sunday, Driving home/collapsing into a pile of sore muscles.
Monday, Followed up with email correspondence including: continuing email about my reading on Sunday, and two people who each agreed to review A Study In Cutlets in exchange for a free copy and haven’t yet,  posted to twitter though for the moment I’m waiting for a Facebook event to be made before I post there. Reread the first chapter of The Sign of Fur to see if there was anywhere I could add jokes (this was suggested to me by a beta reader). No real luck, though I did enjoy what I’d read.
Tuesday,
Wednesday,
Thursday,
Friday, LARP – research for fantasy stories?
Saturday, LARP / Day off
Sunday, Nothing.
Monday, Lots of Copypress but little of my own.
Tuesday, Sent a copy of A Study In Cutlets to cover artist as a thank you and asked when we could start a cover for The Sign of Fur.
Wednesday, Successfully got into contact with Bayside Middle School.
Thursday, Dropped off a copy of A Study In Cutlets at said middle school.
Friday, Nothing.
Saturday, Day off.
Sunday, Nothing.
Monday,
Tuesday,
Wednesday,
Thursday, Edited Chapter 2  of The Sign of Fur
Friday, Florida Vacation (Triathlon)
Saturday, Florida Vacation (Triathlon)
Sunday, Florida Vacation (Triathlon)
Monday, Florida Vacation (Triathlon)
Tuesday, Replied to comments on my BookTango Review, replied to an elementary schools about participating in their special interest day.
Wednesday, Nothing.
Thursday, Updated Facebook and Twitter, read over Chapter 3 of The Sign of Fur, corresponded with Bayside Middle School,