D.E. Haggerty's Blog, page 27

Things I learned in 2017 #NewYear #AmWriting #AuthorMarketing

Every year on New Year’s Day, I’m shocked that a new year has arrived. It’s always a surprise that I’ve somehow managed to pull myself through another year relatively unscathed. I’m one of those middle-aged people who sometimes still begin writing the year with 19, even though we’re now in our 19th year of the new century. I like to blame my faux pas on no longer working in an office where I have to write and/or sign the date on documents every day. I can find an excuse for anything!

I’ve already written about my New Year’s Resolutions. In that post, I indicated I wasn’t going to do a review of how successful I was in following my resolutions last year. Spoiler alert: They did not go well. But 2017 wasn’t all bad. I did learn some things. I thought it might be nice to list those things. So, here we go:

[image error]If done right, blogging is a ton of work. I now average 2-3 blog posts a week. Sure, that’s a lot of figuring out what to write and actually writing it, but it’s more than that. Blogging alone won’t get you anywhere. In order to build that author platform, you need to follow other blogs, read those blogs on at least a semi-regular basis, comment and like them, and share them on social media. Wow! I’m tired just typing that up. The WordPress app has been a lifesaver to me with this.

[image error]Instagram is actually kind of fun. I held off joining Instagram as I didn’t want to have yet another social media platform to maintain. I’m not sure why I finally took the leap, but I’m glad I did. It’s actually a fun app, and it’s not that hard to maintain. I try to post one picture a day. Additionally, I go on the app three times a day for five minutes to scroll through the posts of those I follow and like and comment. C’est tout!

[image error]No one will take you seriously, if you don’t take yourself seriously. This has been a big lesson for me this year. I accepted a position as vice-president of a volunteer organization. Although it’s a volunteer position, everyone in the organization, including the other board members, expected me to be available all the time because ‘I can write whenever’ or ‘Writing is just my hobby.’ Um, what? I’ve had to ‘own’ being a writer. This has caused me quite a bit of anxiety. For some reason, I didn’t have a problem proclaiming myself a lawyer before the ink on my law degree dried, but calling myself a writer is still difficult even though I now have published twelve books.

Time management is an essential skill. I’ve always thought I was great at organization and time management. But that was before I was trying to balance the different jobs of being a writer, being a board member, and running a business. I never realized balancing a gazillion tasks at one job was a different skill set than balancing different jobs. Now I know. Boy, do I know.

Author marketing is constantly changing. One of the difficult aspects of being an indie author is handling all the marketing yourself. This is made even more difficult by the fact that marketing strategies that worked last year no longer work this year. In addition to performing marketing tasks such as drafting ads and filling out a gazillion online forms, authors need to continually research marketing strategies as they are ever-changing. Talk about annoying.

What did you learn this year? Feel free to share in the comments.

New Year, Not New Me ~ New Year’s Resolutions I hope I can manage to keep #NewYearsResolutions #2018

I was all set to write a wrap-up of 2017, but as a drafted the blog in my head while walking my dog, I realized the entire blog I was preparing was basically a big whiny whine. There was so much whining I had to use the word twice. So, I’m calling 2017 a scratch and moving on.

I’d like to say I’m going to kick 2018 in the a$$, but I already know that the first few months of the year are full of commitments I’m not excited about but feel obligated to perform anyway. (I’m being vague in a huge effort to not whine about those commitments. Is it working?) This year’s new year resolutions are, therefore, less vaulty goals like losing that 15 kilos I really NEED to lose and more about handling the busy, chaotic life I currently find myself embroiled in.

So, without further whining ado, here are my goals for 2018:

[image error]Spend one hour per day on my TBR. Instead of making lofty goals like ‘I’ll keep up with my TBR’, which everyone knows won’t happen, I’m committing to something I can manage – 60 minutes per day working on my TBR. I’m going to set a timer and everything. By TBR, I mean those books I’ve committed to not only read but also review. I usually read an hour or two per day for relaxation, but reading books I’ve committed to review feels more like work than like relaxation – resulting in me skipping right over the ‘review’ category on my kindle and straight to guilty reads.

[image error]Run the CPC Loop Den Haag. For once I’m not committing to working out more or healthy eating. Nope. I’ve just registered for a 10-km run here in town. In addition to playing tennis twice a week, I’ll run twice a week because otherwise I’ll make a darn fool out of myself at this run. I’m hoping my pride will be enough to get me out the door to run when I’m crazy busy.

Learn how to manage my time better. I can’t make any resolutions about doing less because I’m already committed up to my eyeballs. Instead, I need to learn some time management tools to ensure I not only honor my commitments but do so without stress eating and dropping exercise everytime I’m stressed out, which means I would never run at all and be as big as a house before summer hits. I’m not sure how I’m going to accomplish this, but hope springs eternal and all that.

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You can go home again ~ Read an excerpt of The Last Homecoming from Dan Chabot

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Book title: The Last Homecoming

Author: Dan Chabot

Genre: General/Contemporary fiction

Published: Fall, 2017

~ Blurb ~

The Last Homecoming traces the lives of three troubled strangers who gather on Christmas Eve to say farewell to a doomed, 90-year-old house, the secure shelter and refuge where each of them grew up.  They all have warm, golden memories of youthful, magical Christmases here, and of the Rockwell-esque small town that nourished them as children.  They are joined by their gracious host, the last owner of the house, whose own deep attachment has led her to stage this last homecoming for people who know it is not just a house, but a shrine of memories and echoes.

But before it goes down to make way for a new bridge, this safe old sanctuary has surrendered some astonishing secrets and yielded a final reward…

The Last Homecoming is really four stories in one: sweeping, sentimental, often humorous stories of four generations who return to their old home and once again find security, shelter and refuge in a surprise ending. Making their last visit to the house are an elderly, feisty nun with a promiscuous youthful past and searing experiences as a nurse in World War II; a depressed, retired Major League ballplayer who is contemplating a horrific act; the editor of the hometown weekly newspaper, still dealing with the tragic consequences of her long-ago teenage love affair; and the current owner, determined to stage an emotional last homecoming for the house and the people who loved it.

~ Grab a copy! ~

Amazon

 ~ Excerpt ~

“And so here we are together at the end of a long, long road,” Nettie began. “We are losing a house, to be sure, which is made up only of boards and lumber and plaster and shingles, after all. The real substance of this place is all the people, the events, the actual living of lives, that went on within these walls, under this roof. All those events, the significant and the trivial, have now become intertwined and enmeshed with our larger lives. They are threaded through our minds and our very being in a river of memories and emotions.

“This house has been a home for all of us, the place we retreat to for shelter from the storms of life, the place where much of our lives unfolded — sorrow and laughter, pain and comfort, winning and losing. This house is our connection with the past, with the people we loved; it helped make us, us. It is a monument, it is layers of history, a time capsule of our lives.

“This house is one of the many chapters in the book of our lives. It is a church, the temple of our lives, where we learned and practiced the religion of living. And as long as it was here it was like a safety net; we really could go home again, back to the comfort and safety of our childhood, reconnect with our past. But now we will have to relive those days only in our memories. And they cannot take those away from us. This house will live on as long as any of us are still alive to recall the glorious days we spent here. But, sadly, just as when a family member or friend dies, a part of us is dying now, too.

“It has been here for 90 years. Ninety years from now, when they tear down that bridge, will there be anybody who will say they think about that bridge every day, and all the beautiful memories it represents?”

~ About the Author ~

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Dan Chabot, a former newspaper editor, writer and columnist, grew up in a small Upper Michigan town much like the one in this novel, his second. His first, Godspeed: A Love Story, poses an intriguing question:  How can a lie be wrong when it makes so many people feel so good?  Dan and his wife, Mary Ellen, live in Florida.  They have three grown sons and six grandchildren.

~ Stalk the author! ~

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When are you done editing? #WriterWednesday #AmWriting

Let’s face it – as writers we will never be fully satisfied with a manuscript. It just isn’t in our blood. We want to review each phrase, sentence, and paragraph to ensure every single word is a perfect match for what we are trying to express. At some point, however, we need to stop editing and re-editing and publish our work. If you’re a self-published author, it can be difficult to know exactly when you are ready to publish that book. There are only self-imposed deadlines with which to contend after all. So, how do you know when you are done with editing (and ready to publish your book)?

Although my husband would vehemently disagree, I’m not a perfectionist. I know I’m only human and my novel will always have errors. I’m not perfect, so why should my books be? BUT I want each of my novels to be as close to perfect as possible. But like all authors, I sometimes have a ‘difficult’ time stopping editing and polishing off my manuscript for publishing. I’ve come up with some tips and tricks that will help you figure out when you should stop dawdling and push publish already!

First of all, here’s how you know it’s NOT time to publish. If you’ve printed out the manuscript and your notes look like this:

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You Are Not Ready To Publish!

Tips to know when you are done editing:

When you’ve whittled your ‘crutch’ words down to less than 25 occurrences per word in a 200-page manuscript, you’re getting close to being ready to publish;

 

If you’ve run out of the mountain of chocolate, snacks, wine, and beer you stocked the house with to survive your editing binge, you’re definitely getting close to finishing;

 

When Microsoft spellcheck says you have no errors in your document, you’re probably ready (it’s expected that you shout for joy when that complete box pops up);

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If you’ve printed out the manuscript (and you should!) and your only make one or two improvements per page (not corrections!), you’re nearly ready;

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If you are reciting the words from memory while editing instead of actually reading them, you’re pretty much ready;

 

If your husband is starting to think you’re turning into a vampire due to your pale skin as you haven’t seen the light of day in a very long time, you are really, really close to being ready;

 

If the thought of reading your novel one more time makes you want to puke, you’re as ready as you’re ever going to be. Might as well publish that baby and find out how exposing your work to the world can really make you puke.

 

Give love a second chance #contemporaryromance Read an excerpt of Second Chances from @K_OMalley67 @RABTBookTours

 

Contemporary Romance

Date Published: 11/30/17
Publisher: Carolina Blue Publishing
 





 Dr. Charlotte Avery is the newest resident of Windsor Falls, North Carolina. Just back from the war-ravaged plains of Africa, Charlie only wants to settle into her new life and to reconnect with Elizabeth Fitzgerald, her best friend from residency. What she doesn’t expect, or need, is the instant attraction she feels for Elizabeth’s brother-in-law, Brendan. A single dad, Brendan Fitzgerald isn’t interested in anything that will further complicate his life. Will they be open to a second chance?







~ Grab a copy! ~

 
Amazon


~ Excerpt ~

Charlie leaned against the wall for a moment to ground herself. One day, the feeling of loss wouldn’t haunt her. She had to believe that. Angry sounds broke her reverie. Instinct kicked in. She followed the sound around the corner and back to the triage desk. And stopped. Her heart thudded at the sight of a very handsome man. He was also the source of the noise. She listened to the triage nurse attempt to calm him.

“Sir, you can’t go back there. If you tell me your name, I can help you.”

He pulled a hand through his raven hair. “I don’t have time for this. I need to find my daughter.” His blue eyes scanned the area.

“Maybe I can help.” Two pair of eyes turned towards her as Charlie stepped into the fray. The nurse’s were tinged with relief. Annoyance passed through his as the man swept his gaze over her. And dismissed her. She was a beautiful woman used to men taking a second look. Not this one, but then he did have more important things on his mind. Or rather, an important person.

“Are you Mr. Fitzgerald, by any chance? Here to see Abby?” Charlie spoke in a soothing tone.

The man took a deep breath and blew it out. “Yes, I’m Abby’s father, Brendan Fitzgerald.”

“I brought Abby in. I’d be happy to take you to her. I know she’ll want to see you.” She took him by the wrist, ignoring the warmth that spread up her arm at the contact. Without giving him a chance to argue, she led him away from the desk.

“I’m Charlie. I was there at the park. She’s doing great. Her wrist may be broken. They were doing X-rays when I left her, but I think it’s just a simple fracture. A few weeks in a cast, and she’ll be good as new. Won’t even have to give up swimming this summer.”

Brendan stopped walking and planted his feet, no longer allowing her to shepherd him. She jerked to a halt. She craned her neck. At almost six feet tall, she normally didn’t have to look up to meet someone’s gaze. But Brendan had three or four inches on her, not to mention the work boots he was wearing. She remembered that his family was in construction. He looked the part, with well-worn jeans molding his legs. A forest green t-shirt with ‘Fitzgerald Construction’ written on it stretched across his muscular chest.

“Look, Charlie, I’m not trying to be rude, but I need to see my daughter. Now. Please let go of me.”

Charlie looked down to where her hand was still attached to his wrist. She dropped it immediately, heat crept up her neck. “Sorry”, she muttered.

~ About the Author ~

Kimberley O’Malley is a recent transplant to Charlotte, North Carolina from the frozen North. She is learning to say y’all but draws the line at sweet tea. Sarcasm is an art form in her world. When not writing, she is a full-time nurse and part-time soccer Mom, but not necessarily in that order. She shares her life with an amazing husband of more than twenty years, two teenagers, and one very sweet Shetland Sheepdog, Molly.


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Get ready to be Torn Away ~ the #romanticsuspense novel from @Vince524

 

Suspense/Romance


Date Published: 11-01-17


Publisher: The Wild Rose Press



Drew Duncan swore he’d never go back to Ember Falls again. After he was wrongfully charged with his high school girlfriend’s murder, he waited for a trial that never came. When he was released from jail a year later, he left everything behind. But when his sister is murdered, Drew is forced to return to the hometown where he and his sisters were brutalized by their alcoholic father.



Once back, not even his training as a Marine and point man for McAlister Security prepares Drew for what he must face–a surviving sister who refuses to forgive him for abandoning her, a nephew who trembles when he enters the room, and an entire town that thinks he got away with murder. To protect his nephew, Drew will face his most terrifying fear. Going home.




~ Grab a copy! ~

Amazon   ~ Barnes and Noble  ~ Kobo  ~ Google Play ~ Indigo

~ About the Author ~

Born and raised in Brooklyn NY, Vincent Morrone now resides in Upstate NY with his wife. (Although he can still speak fluent Brooklynese.) His twin daughters remain not only his biggest fans, but usually are the first to read all of his work. Their home is run and operated for the comfort and convenience of their dogs. Vincent has been writing fiction, poetry and song lyrics for as long as he can remember, most of which involve magical misfits, paranormal prodigies and even on occasion superheroes and their sidekicks.

As they say in Brooklyn: Yo, you got something to say? Vincent would love to hear from you at Vincent@vincentmorrone.com

You can check his website or connect with him on Twitter and Facebook


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Anti-Semitism or antisemitism? Which one is correct? And does it matter anyway? #MondayBlogs #HistoricalFiction #JewishHistory

There are often two ways to spell a word: enquire or inquire, for example. Usually, the choice of which spelling to use is based on dialect. Enquire is more used in British English, while inquire is commonly used in American English. But can different spellings have different meanings? And cause negative feelings – even racism?

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Searching for Gertrude is a historical fiction novel which takes place in Istanbul during the Second World War. The hero, Rudolf, who happens to work at the German Consulate, is searching for the love of his life who is a Jewish woman. Naturally, antisemitism plays a large role in the novel. When I started writing my manuscript, I didn’t pay much attention to how to spell antisemitism. I just followed Microsoft Word’s advice, which is to spell the word as anti-Semitism. During the hours and hours of research into the historical background of my novel, I stumbled upon several articles regarding how to properly spell the term. Apparently, it’s a controversial issue.

[image error]The International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance is a firm believer in using the term ‘antisemitism’ as opposed to ‘anti-Semitism’. (The entire memo from the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance regarding the spelling of antisemitism can be read here.) Here is their reasoning:

The word ‘Semitic’ refers to a family of languages originating in the Middle East. Following this definition, the term anti-Semitic would seem to refer to prejudice against all people who speak Semitic languages or to those classified as ‘Semites’. However, since its inception, the term has only referred to prejudice against Jews. German journalist coined the phrase ‘antisemitism’ in 1879 to designate anti-Jewish campaigns. The term ‘Semite’ was used in the mid-nineteenth century to classify humans based on racialist pseudo-science.

The unhyphenated spelling is favored in order to dispel the idea that there is an entity ‘Semitism’ which ‘anti-Semitism’ opposes. When the term is not hyphenated (antisemitism), the meaning is clear: a generic term for modern Jew-hatred.

After I read the above, I couldn’t help but rush back to my manuscript and change every anti-Semitism into antisemitism. So, yeah, the spelling of words matters.

***

This blog is the first in a series of blogs I’ll be writing about the research I’ve done for my upcoming novel, Searching for Gertrude.

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Read an excerpt of The Seven Sorrows, a #thriller from Gregg Kuehn

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Book title: The Seven Sorrows

Author: Gregg Kuehn

Genre: Thriller

Published: October 9, 2017

Publisher: Divertir Publishing

~ Blurb ~

Wealthy weapons collector, COLIN FARTHINGTON, learns that still lethal handheld tactical nuclear weapons are buried in a cave on El Fortunato island in the British West Indies. He discovers that a group of rogue Russian terrorists is hot on the trail of the weapons. When he receives a curious telephone call from the corrupt U.S. Vice President, Farthington realizes he must act quickly. He orders his employee on the island, KC JAMESON, a 33 year old marine biologist with a troubled past, to retrieve the weapons. KC doesn’t have the skills needed to search the cave. KC, unable to engage in meaningful relationships after the murder of his young sister, reluctantly enlists the help of a fiery young woman, NIKKI COLT, an experienced rock climber and caver. Just one day earlier their first meeting ended poorly when Nikki humiliated KC when he emerged naked from the ocean after an early morning swim. But after a run-in with the Russians she agrees to help. KC follows Nikki into the cave only to discover that the weapons are missing. A squad of U.S. Army soldiers arrives to claim the nukes. The Russian terrorists attack and murder the Americans while KC and Nikki make a narrow escape. But they find a clue in the cave: a man’s ring. This leads them to yet another cave where they find a scroll with a strange poem etched on it. After dangerous altercations with a corrupt government official and the Russians, KC and Nikki solve the mystery of the poem and search of the island for the nuclear weapons. They find them in a church, buried below a painting of the Virgin Mary. The Russian team arrives, steal the weapons and take Nikki hostage. KC escapes. With a hurricane bearing down on the island, KC and JIMMY CALHOUN commandeer a helicopter and chase the Russians who are fleeing in a stolen yacht. KC saves Nikki moments before the Russians crash into a barrier coral reef. Nikki loses both her job and her fiancé but surprises KC when she arrives at his beach house early one morning to join him for his daily skinny dip.

 ~ Grab a copy! ~

Amazon ~ Book Depository

~ Excerpt ~

The man who had less than one hour to live raised himself up on an elbow, craned his neck, and peered out of his filthy window. The smattering of rain blurred his view of the street below, and he fell back with a grunt.

Alexei Baranov stiffened, leaned over the edge of his threadbare cot, and retched into his handkerchief. He pulled it away from his mouth, wiped his lips, and crushed the cloth into a ball. Reddish spittle oozed onto his fingers. The soiled handkerchief slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

Alexei fell back onto the cot and groaned. His long snow-white hair lay in stark contrast to the dirty yellowed pillow. The pain was worse today, but he would not give in to it. He would not die before the boy arrived. Everything depended on Pyotr.

The pains in his stomach had increased to the point where it was nearly impossible for him to hobble down the dim hallway to the toilet he shared with another tenant of the aging apartment building. The three story brick structure sat on a narrow lane in a northeast section of Moscow not far from several metro stations, the busy “B-Ring” road that circled Moscow, and a few restaurants. On warm sunny days children played in a small playground just across the street from Alexei’s second floor window. But today his windows were fully shut and the street outside stood silent in response to the cold and rain. Alexei stared at the water-stained ceiling and drew a thin blanket over his frail body. The slight movement sent a stabbing pain deep into his belly. His body convulsed. The pain shot up into his chest and he grunted again. He lifted his head a few inches off the pillow and studied the door, hoping for Pyotr’s arrival. The hallway remained silent.

Panic gripped Alexei as he stared at the empty doorway. What if Pyotr hadn’t received the letter he’d sent nearly two weeks ago? Would his secret die with him? He closed his eyes, laid his head back on the pillow, and tried to smile, ignoring the rancid stench of his dim room. Pyotr will come soon, he told himself. Alexei sighed, recalling those glorious days long ago when Khrushchev had challenged the West, when the real glory of Soviet Communism reached

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The Seven Sorrows

its peak. He’d never been as proud of Mother Russia as he’d been during those October days of 1962 when the Soviets had challenged the power and influence of the capitalist pigs in America. Damn that arrogant Kennedy and his smug little brother, Bobby. They had ruined everything. A chuckle escaped his lips as he considered that he outlived them both. Another cough wracked his frail body. He felt each of his eighty one years, and they had been hard ones. The long years of running and hiding had taken their toll.

He flinched, and then smiled as he caught the sound of a distant door creaking open and then closed a moment later. Hurried footsteps pounded up the stairway and echoed from the hallway as Pyotr Asimov swept into the room. He was young, not yet thirty, with short sandy hair and brown eyes. His thin muscular body complemented his five foot eleven inch height. If not conventionally handsome, many women his age found him attractive. Something about the way his eyes smiled interested them. Pyotr stopped in mid stride as he took in the sick old man lying on the filthy cot. His eyes opened wide at the sight of Alexei’s shriveled body, hollow eyes, and blood-spattered chin. He stared at the old man for a brief moment, taking in his crooked yellow teeth and dirty stringy beard, then hurried to the window and peeked out to the street below.

It was empty. He took a step toward Alexei.

“Thank heaven, Uncle Alexei. I am so happy to see you. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, but I only received your letter this morning. My mother sent it to me. The letter was unopened. Neither she nor my father knows where I am. But why am I here? What’s going on? Why did you tell me to be careful?” Pyotr said as he sidled back to the window and glanced out again. In spite of the chill he raised the window an inch to allow fresh air into the stinking room. He studied the street below for a moment, but it was quiet. He was certain he hadn’t been followed.

“Yes, my boy. I am happy you are finally here. It is good to see you after so many years. You have your mother’s eyes. Is she well? I am dying and have something important to tell you. And something you must do. For the glory of old Russia. I don’t have much time. Sit down and listen

~ About the Author ~

Gregg Kuehn grew up in southeast Wisconsin. he attended Tufts University and the University of Wisconsin where he earned degrees in Psychology and Landscape Architecture. He and wife Kathy live in Grafton Wisconsin where they operated a landscape design-build company for 35 years. In his spare time he enjoys travel, golf, hunting, downhill skiing, solving logic problems, and spending time with his grandchildren.

Help! I’ve fallen in a reading rut and I can’t get out! How to reignite your love of reading #AmReading

My life is books. I love writing them. I love reading them. I love buying them. I love talking about them. I love reviewing them. I love sniffing them. Heck, I even love just staring at them in my bookshelf with only the fairy lights on to illuminate the shelves. But lately I haven’t felt much like reading. Help! I’m in a rut.

[image error]I normally read a lot of guilty pleasure novels. Instead of watching television to relax, I read these novels. But they’re all the same lately: a girl falling in love with her stepbrother, a one-night stand that leads to a surprise baby, a secretary falling in love with her boss. It just goes on and on. They even all have the same cover – a hot guy with his shirt off. Can someone get an original idea, please?

So, I’ve put aside my guilty pleasure novels and gone to my bookshelves for inspiration. I probably have at least 50 physical books on my shelves, which I haven’t read. (Ssshhh… don’t tell the hubby!) My physical books fall under one of two categories: literary fiction and non-fiction historical biographies. You know what the problem is with literary fiction? It’s depressing. It’s apparently impossible to write a prize-worthy book unless something goes horribly wrong. Considering the utter mess the world is in at the moment and the complete helplessness I feel, I’m not in the mood for reading about fictional catastrophes. There are enough real ones, thank you very much!

What’s a girl to do? I can’t NOT read. My life is books (and yes, I know I repeated myself there, but it bears repeating.) Here are some ideas, I’ve come up.

 

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Photo Credit: books-and-mylife (Tumblr)

 

Switch genres . I normally read a lot of romance and fantasy as my guilty pleasure novels. I’m going back to my roots and trying to read some good old-fashioned mysteries. The kind without romance thrown in. Well, a little romance is okay, but let’s focus on the mystery instead of adding a tiny bit of mystery to a romance.
Try a novella . Since I’m not feeling up to much reading, trying to slog my way through the biography of Peter the Great is probably not the way to get out of my rut. Help! I’ve fallen even further into my rut. Yep, it’s time to try something shorter.
Trust my old stand-bys . Re-reading some of my favorite novels may just re-ignite my passion for reading. I did try this, but I stuck to my guilty pleasures. I may dig out Harry Potter and re-read the entire series. Ooooh, now I’m bummed I’m away in Spain and can’t get to my bookshelves. I’ll definitely be trying this idea soon.
Backlog. Have you read every single book from your favorite authors? Maybe there’s an earlier published work to pique your interest. I searched around and found a novel written by J.R. Ward under the pen name Jessica Bird. It was okay, but it didn’t hold the bang of her Black Dagger series.
Set goals and limitations. My list of books I’ve promised authors I’d review currently holds 20+ titles. Wow! That’s a bit intimidating. Trying to whittle down that list is nothing short of terrifying. Instead, I’m going to pick on book a day and promise myself I only have to read 30 minutes. Hopefully, I’ll get involved in the story and keep right on reading.
Join a book club. A lot of people need that extra push to force themselves to do something – even if it’s something they want to do. I’m no different! Joining a book club can be the perfect solution. Suddenly, I’ve got a book to read and a deadline in which to read it. Here’s hoping I read the darn thing and not just add it to my dusty shelves.

So, where to start? I’m going with switching genres. I’ve downloaded Murder on the Orient Express. Fingers crossed.

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Marketing a pre-order #WriterWednesday #AuthorMarketing #AmWriting

I do a marketing push each month. Unfortunately, I’ve noticed my ‘normal’ marketing strategy – signing a temporarily reduced-price book up for several well-known newsletter services – isn’t working as well lately. So, I’m on the hunt for new marketing strategies. I decided to start with my current pre-order and try something ‘different’. To be perfectly honest, I stole this idea from a BookBub blog. The author, a bestseller no less, gave away previous books in her series to readers who purchased a pre-order of her new release. I thought – wow! This is a great idea. Why hadn’t I thought of this when I was writing a series?

Great idea but how do I actually go about implementing this strategy? There are two issues: (1) gathering emails from readers who have pre-ordered the book, and (2) providing the book to readers. There is a third issue – ensuring readers have actually pre-ordered the book – which I didn’t worry about too much. The book I’m giving away is usually priced at 99 cents and isn’t one of my big sellers (but I’m giving this book away as it’s also historical fiction). *Blushes*

In the blog I read, the author used a google form and sent it to her newsletter subscribers. I jumped on google forms and spent an embarrassing amount of time playing around with the forms before I gave up. There must be an easier way to do this! While researching another completely unrelated marketing idea, I stumbled upon Survey Monkey. Hey, look! They have forms, too. Wufoo forms to be exact. Oooh… and there are lots of shiny options.

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I spent about thirty minutes playing around with the options before coming up with a form I liked. It’s super simple. Honestly, it would have taken me a lot less time had I spent any time at all thinking about how I wanted the form to look before I started hitting buttons and adding fields. Anyway, this is what I came up with:

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Once a person fills in the form, Wufoo will send me her email address. Now comes my second problem – how do I send readers my eBook? I’ve tried directly sending readers a mobi or epub file via email. Don’t bother. Average readers can’t figure out how to deal with the file. The other option I’ve used is sending a Smashwords gift. The problem with this is that I have to pay for the eBook each time I gift it. Eek! That can get expensive. So, I decided to give BookFunnel a try.

BookFunnel, unlike Wufoo forms, isn’t free. There are three options: First-Time Author for $20 a year, Mid-List Author for $100 a year, or Bestseller for $250 a year. I don’t know about you, but I find those spreads quite large. Since I’ve never used BookFunnel before I went for the first option for $20 a year. The problem with the cheapy plan is security. When you ask BookFunnel how to ensure your book doesn’t land in the wrong pages, the answer is to set a download limit on your link and to remind readers not to share the link. C’est tout. I decided to go for it anyway and created this landing page.

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Now, I’m all set (I think). Time to market my marketing idea. You can copy the link for the form, embed the form, and share on Facebook, Twitter, and email. I’ve already embed the form on my website page for my new novel, Searching for Gertrude. Next, I’ll get a newsletter sent out with the form. After that, I’ll blast it all over social media. I’ll let you know how it goes.