P.J. Fox's Blog, page 37

Book Not Selling? It Might Be Your Blurb

You’ve written an incredible book.  You’ve even gotten a few reviews.  Excellent reviews.  And yet your Amazon sales rank is hovering somewhere between “my worst nightmares” and “too embarrassing to show my grandparents.”  What gives?  Blogs, articles, and books the world over all give the same advice: write a good book.  First and foremost, write a good book.  Keep writing; build up your backlist.  If you’ve produced a quality product, then your readers will find you.  Cream rises.

Which, if your readers haven’t found you, can be pretty discouraging.  Does “if my sales rank were the figure in my bank account, then I could retire” mean that you should throw in the towel?  That your book is no good after all?

Not necessarily.  Of course, your book could be awful but I’m assuming for the sake of argument that it’s not.  In which case your problem might be that you’ve given potential readers a faulty road map.  They might not be buying your book, because they can’t find it.  Shelving issues are an entirely separate issue and there’s a great guide to figuring out if your book is even listed in the right category to begin with over at Evil Toad Press.  But let’s assume, again, for the sake of argument, that your book is good and it is shelved in the right place.  “Right” being, aligns with readers’ expectations in such a way that organic searches actually lead to the desirable result.  For example, shelving your series of gritty, yet surprisingly upbeat stories about a transsexual werewolf crime fighter named Laverne under “urban fantasy” instead of “thrillers.”  Because when the reading public is looking for stories about werewolves living in, say, Anaheim, they’re thinking “urban fantasy.”  You might think, “this is a great adventure story” or “this is super suspenseful, it’s clearly a thriller,” and you’d be right; but when the average joe thinks “thrillers” he thinks Lee Child.  Whereas Laverne the Crime Fighting Werewolf, at an actual brick and mortar bookstore, would probably be shelved next to Jim Butcher.  Which is where you’d want her.

Even so, let’s say they do find your book.

You still have to help them know that this is the book they want.

A lot of writers, for whatever reason, painstakingly craft each sentence of their novels only to treat the blurb–the first introduction to your writing, for most people–as something of an afterthought.  They’re at best poorly crafted and, at worst, they don’t tell you what the book is about.  Whereas an ideal blurb should both give readers a flavor of you as an author, a flavor for the style of writing the book contains, as well as list the specific information that the reader needs to know, in order to make an informed decision about whether to buy the book.

To show you what I mean, let’s tear apart one of my own blurbs.

Here’s the blurb from my forthcoming nonfiction offering, I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer:

This isn’t your grandmother’s handbook.  Half guide to the intricacies of the craft and half practical, no nonsense self help, I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer is the next best thing to your own personal writing coach.  A coach who’ll explain what you’re doing wrong and how to do it right but, more importantly, who’ll inspire you to produce your best work.  A coach who’ll help kick your butt into gear when you don’t feel like writing, and who’ll bolster you up when you’re feeling down; who’ll help you develop the self confidence you need, as a writer, to weather the inevitable storms of rejection—including those self-generated—that a career in this field inevitably brings.

I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer covers everything from crafting believable dialogue to crafting believable characters themselves; from writing descriptions that aren’t boring to opening your story in a way that consistently draws the reader in.  It also gives you the tools you need to develop your own unique voice as a writer, and thus tell the most original stories possible.

Warm-hearted and funny, if you’re embarking on the adventure that is writing, then this is the companion you need.

Going through this line by line:

This isn’t your grandmother’s handbook.  I’m telling you straight off the bat that this is both a) nontraditional and b) still a handbook.  Half guide to the intricacies of the craft and half practical, no nonsense self help, I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer is the next best thing to your own personal writing coach.  I’m explaining, in a straightforward fashion, what this book is actually about and why you want it, as opposed to a different book.  A coach who’ll explain what you’re doing wrong and how to do it right but, more importantly, who’ll inspire you to produce your best work.  A coach who’ll help kick your butt into gear when you don’t feel like writing, and who’ll bolster you up when you’re feeling down; who’ll help you develop the self confidence you need, as a writer, to weather the inevitable storms of rejection—including those self-generated—that a career in this field inevitably brings.  I’m giving you a sense here, albeit briefly, of what you can expect from me in terms of coaching.  If you don’t want your butt kicked into gear, this probably isn’t the book for you; if on the other hand, you’re ecstatically happy that a book on writing finally climbed off its high horse/out of its ivory tower long enough to use the word butt, then this book is definitely for you.

I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer covers everything from crafting believable dialogue to crafting believable characters themselves; from writing descriptions that aren’t boring to opening your story in a way that consistently draws the reader in.  It also gives you the tools you need to develop your own unique voice as a writer, and thus tell the most original stories possible.  I’m giving you a little more detail about what’s actually inside the book, and what you’ll (hopefully) get out of reading it.

Warm-hearted and funny, if you’re embarking on the adventure that is writing, then this is the companion you need.  In a nutshell: this book is a companion.  And, like a good companion, it’s supposed to be helpful and supportive and, ultimately, get you where you want to go.

And here’s my blurb for The Price of Desire:

Kisten Mara Sant is a man with a problem. He’s disgraced his conservative, politically ambitious family, torpedoed a promising naval career, and only barely escaped being put to death for treason after brawling with his uncle in the middle of the senate floor. His uncle, who happens to be the senate minority leader and heir to the throne of the empire. After Kisten’s father, who is both the chancellor of the empire and his cousin’s bitter political rival, pulled every string at his disposal, Kisten’s sentence was commuted to exile: as governor of a disease-ridden mining outpost teetering on the edge of rebellion where running water is an almost unheard-of luxury and the native population is terrified of toilets.

He decides to have one last hurrah before meeting his certain doom but, instead of the fun he’d hoped for, he winds up with a hangover and an unwanted accomplice: a terrified urchin of a girl who hates him, and does her best to sabotage him at every turn.

And that’s when things really get bad.

Again, I’ve told you something about the protagonist–not just the facts of his life, but what those facts reveal about his character.  Here is this hothead, with the emotional maturity of a carrot; watch him get thwarted!  Then, join the prince and the urchin as they–hopefully–make it to a place where toilets are shunned as demons!  That the most hopeful outcome for these two is landfall at a place like that also tells you something about their situation.  Aren’t you interested in how they got themselves into this mess?  And how they’ll react, now that they’re in it?  And to each other?  Don’t you want to learn more about demonic toilets?  Well, I certainly hope so, as I’m working on the sequel right now.

There’s no real “right” way to craft a blurb, but there are a lot of wrong ones.  So when you’re contemplating your own blurb, or blurbs, here are some points to keep in mind.  And by “points,” I mean my “absolutely do not do this” list:

An excerpt from your book is NOT a blurb.  It is not a substitute for a blurb.  Don’t do this.  I’ve read too many so-called “blurbs” that were basically just a page from the book and they gave me absolutely no feel for what the book was about.  I want the blurb to tell me what the book is about!  That is, after all, why I’m reading it.  Remember, a blurb isn’t a “slice of life.”  It’s a sales pitch.
Do NOT compare your book to someone else’s.  “Finished Fifty Shades of Grey ?  Now read this!” is NOT a blurb.  It makes your work sound derivative, even if it isn’t.
Give me a hint as to what genre this is.  I’ve read a lot of blurbs where, to be honest, I was confused as to what the book was supposed to be about.  Was this urban fantasy?  Romance?  Erotica?  I had no idea.  That is NOT a good thing.  It doesn’t “leave open the possibilities,” it frustrates the reader.  No one likes picking up a book and staring at it like it’s Pandora’s Box.  The story itself is supposed to do the work of drawing the reader in, and holding her attention.  But people want to know, gee, am I taking a police procedural or a romance with me on my vacation?  If they can’t figure out what the book is, or what mood they might enjoy reading it in, they just won’t read it at all.  Readers might like mystery, but not that kind of mystery.
Don’t open up your blurb by talking about yourself.  Unless, of course, you’ve written a memoir.  But if this is, say, hard science fiction, then I don’t want to hear about what your mother’s basement smelled like while you were writing it.
Don’t use biblical phrases like “in the beginning.”
Don’t tell me that this will be the best book I’ve ever read.
And absolutely do NOT give away the ending!  A blurb is not a plot synopsis.  At no point should you be telling me who falls in love with whom, who dies, what the villain’s motivations are or what happens on the last page.

I actually have a whole chapter on this issue in my forthcoming “how to write” book, because it’s a topic I feel so strongly about.  Learning to market yourself, as odious as the process might seem, is so important.  So many writers would do just about anything to avoid the process and, believe me, being a natural introvert I understand.  But marketing, particularly when you’re an indie writer, is a golden opportunity to take control of your own destiny.  When you’re fully responsible for your own success, there are no gatekeepers.  The sky’s the limit–and beyond.

Writing Guide News!

I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer is still on track to debut at the end of the month, and I’ll keep you updated on that.

In the meantime, here’s the blurb:

This isn’t your grandmother’s handbook.  Half guide to the intricacies of the craft and half practical, no nonsense self help, I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer is the next best thing to your own personal writing coach.  A coach who’ll explain what you’re doing wrong and how to do it right but, more importantly, who’ll inspire you to produce your best work.  A coach who’ll help kick your butt into gear when you don’t feel like writing, and who’ll bolster you up when you’re feeling down; who’ll help you develop the self confidence you need, as a writer, to weather the inevitable storms of rejection—including those self-generated—that a career in this field inevitably brings.

 I Look Like This Because I’m A Writer covers everything from crafting believable dialogue to crafting believable characters themselves; from writing descriptions that aren’t boring to opening your story in a way that consistently draws the reader in.  It also gives you the tools you need to develop your own unique voice as a writer, and thus tell the most original stories possible.

 Warm-hearted and funny, if you’re embarking on the adventure that is writing, then this is the companion you need.

What, in my opinion, makes this book different from all the others is that it’s not just another droning, no-fun lecture on adverbs.  There’s a lot of practical, “here’s what to do”-type writing advice, yes, but set within the overall context of helping you develop your voice as a writer.  Of helping you to, to borrow a phrase, be your best self as a creative force.  Too many writing guides, to me, take the rather joyless approach of telling you that there’s a “right” and a “wrong” way to construct your sentences, etc.  They focus on the rules and, certainly, the rules are important; but past a point, these guides are really just instruction manuals in how to write like someone else.  They’re not all that helpful in getting you past that point: ready for takeoff, as it were.

Whereas that’s what I want to do: get you ready for takeoff.

Thoughts?

I’m also in talks to work on a self publishing guide, so I’d be interested in everyone’s thoughts on that as well.

Logical Fallacies Underlying the Arguments Against Gay Marriage

Or as I like to call it, marriage.

If you’d like to know more about what so-called “biblical marriage” actually is, read this.  And if you’ve heard the arguments that allowing gay couples to adopt is tantamount to child abuse, read this.  And if you’re planning, this Fourth of July weekend, to get into a political argument with your brother in law, then please read the following explanation of why his arguments are all wrong.  I’ve outlined them for you in a convenient list format, for easy reading.  Or, if you so desire, printing out, folding up, and tucking into your pocket.  So you can pull them out, Batman-like, at your family’s barbecue.

“Gay marriage is an attack on traditional marriage.”  No it isn’t; people aren’t “attacking” an institution by trying to join it, nor are they devaluing it by pouring their time and energy into being allowed to participate in it.  That’s right; some people value the sacrament of marriage so much that they’re devoting their entire lives to the goal of some day being able to participate in it.  Whereas Britney Spears was once married for 58 hours, and Kim Kardashian for 72 days.  The fight for marriage equality has lasted far longer than either of those experiments.
“The purpose of marriage is procreation.”  Great.  So I guess that means anyone who’s past childbearing age should be forcibly divorced?  Or that infertile couples shouldn’t be allowed to get married in the first place?  Moreover, whether gay couples are allowed to get married will have no effect whatsoever on whether straight couples continue to have sex–for the purposes of procreation or otherwise.
“But they can adopt.”  Lots of gay couples want to adopt, too.  There are three times the number of gay couples looking to adopt from the foster care system, in America, as there are children waiting to be adopted.
“Legalizing gay marriage forces me to support that ‘lifestyle,’ regardless of my beliefs.”  Well, if you consider allowing people who have nothing to do with you, and who you’ve never met and probably never will meet, the same freedom to make their own decisions as you have, then I suppose so.  Constitutional freedom isn’t “support”–quite the opposite.  It’s freedom from the need to have anyone support you; freedom from the need to gain any one church’s, or other religious or social institution’s, stamp of approval.  To help me prove my point, let’s look at a few logical extensions of this same (illogical) argument.  I’m a Mormon.  That means I don’t drink.  Now, what would you think if I told you that beer must therefore be outlawed in all fifty states, because the fact of knowing that beer is for sale forces me to support the idea of alcohol consumption?  You’d probably tell me to quit being crazy and just not buy beer.  Or how about the fact that there are unmarried couples, living on my street?  I don’t agree with that choice.  Which, again, you’d probably tell me to mind my own business.  And you know what?  You’d be right.
“But this is about liberty!”  Well then, sorry bubballoo…that ship has sailed.  In 1964.  The landmark case Heart of Atlanta Motel v. United States held that Congress could use the power granted to it by the Constitution’s commerce clause to force private businesses to abide by the non-discrimination provisions in the Civil Rights Act of 1964.  Meaning that your “liberty” does not, in fact, extend to refusing people service on the sole basis of their skin color, nationality or–you guessed it–sexual orientation.  Back in the day, an awful lot of people felt that their liberty was being threatened by the idea of having to sit next to a–gasp–darkly complected person at the lunch counter.  Or have “those people” in their stores.  And, well, they got over it.  So will you.
“But marriage is between one man and one woman!”  If that’s how you define it, great.  That’s not how the Bible defines it, but whatever.  The good news is that, either way, nothing is stopping you from entering into a state-sanctioned, heterosexual marriage.  The number of gay people who do or do not get married has no bearing whatsoever on the choices of straight people the world over.  The fact of a gay who lives down the street getting married has no impact on my, or your, or anyone’s marriage, same as my next door neighbor getting divorced doesn’t suddenly mean that I have to file for divorce or that my marriage is any less legitimate.  If your belief in the sanctity of your own marriage, and your beliefs about what marriage does and should mean to you, are dependent on the actions of others then you have way bigger problems to address.
“It will turn people gay.”  Guess what: if seeing a man marrying another man gives you the uncontrollable urge to go out and do the same, you were already gay to begin with.  People aren’t straight (or gay, or whatever else) because they haven’t yet discovered that there are other options.

Well, that’s it, folks.  I hope this little primer on something I like to call “common sense” has been helpful.  And remember: common sense is for people of all political persuasions, as is Thomas Jefferson’s assertion that “an equal application of the law to every condition of man is fundamental.”

Sexism: How You ARE the Problem

From a Cracked article, published about 18 months ago, we find the following gem: “If there’s one cure that’s worse than the disease, it’s telling women to “cover up,” like they were the fucking Elephant Man….Maybe it’s because telling them to cover up reinforces the tiresome message that women in particular are responsible for how others act toward them. Maybe it’s because it assigns women the responsibility for dealing with the fact that assholes have decided that the female body = sex, and instead of addressing the actual problem, it’s instead just PUT A SHEET OVER YOUR NATURAL SHAME. P.S. THINK OF THE CHILDREN.”  You can read the rest of the article here, and it’s brilliant.

Particularly as a female writer of traditionally “male” genres, i.e. science fiction and horror, I agree with the point that the internet is leveling the playing field and that it’s the so-called “gatekeepers” of the industry, rather than the readers themselves, who perpetuate these sexist notions about who’s “relevant” to the industry.  Which isn’t to say that plenty of fans aren’t sexist, but that what we often perceive as sexism–or are told to perceive as sexism–is merely ignorance.  Women are visible in this industry; they’re just not visible on panels at your favorite Cons.

But what you know if you’re a woman, and what the continuing relevance of this article points out, is that sexism isn’t a new problem.  Nor is it somehow a resurgent problem, merely because someone invented a popular hashtag on Twitter.  #YesAllWomen has created a forum for discussion, which is great, but those of us who’ve grown up in this supposedly modern and equality-focused era have dealt for years with things like people telling us that our characters were “unlikeable, judgmental and preachy” because they didn’t want to be raped.

And while it’s great to draw attention to the problem, I worry at the same time that the way we’re going about doing so is treating sexism like a trend and so relegating it to the realm of something that we can forget about just as easily.  As though equality were “fashionable.”

This same article points out that we do confront injustice when we a) see it and when b) the injustice is the sort that’s been pre-approved as qualifying as “real” injustice within the realm of broader male patriarchy.  Like, for example, people bringing AR-15′s into Target.  We’re able to say “no” then.  And, indeed, we’re able to say “no” when a woman breastfeeds in public.  Or, at least, a lot of us are.  So why aren’t we equally as capable of saying “no” when a woman is harassed?  Why does one situation activate sense of heroism and the other, our fear that people might not like us?  Why is having people disagree with you, or with your sense of justice, the worst thing in the world?

I can tell you, being a student of history, that those who protested Jim Crow weren’t too popular either.  We remember them as being heroes, in retrospect.  At the time…not so much.  But imagine if they’d adopted the same attitude, then, that many of you reading this article have adopted now?  That it wasn’t their problem, and that they’d rather have the good regard of their sexist/white supremacist/otherwise hateful neighbor than stand up for what they believed to be right?  Why, exactly, is the good will of someone whose values clearly need work that much more important than actually, you know, living your own values?

Things aren’t going to change because I, and a handful of other people, write posts like this (and get trolled on Twitter for our trouble).  They’ll change when more people demonstrate the same courage as this teenager.  I hope all the adult men and women who didn’t show his courage thought long and hard about what had happened, afterward.

You can’t keep telling yourself that you’re not part of the problem, that you’re a “nice person” because you’ve never, say, actually raped anyone.

But are you?

If you laugh at jokes where rape, or any violence toward women is the punchline, then you’re signaling to those around you–including potential rapists–that rape “really isn’t that bad.”  You’re encouraging those around you, male and female both, to see a rape victim as just another nameless, faceless statistic rather than a woman (or man) deserving of empathy.  If you wouldn’t make the joke to someone while they’re being assaulted, or immediately afterward, while they’re lying in their hospital bed, then don’t make it at all.  It’s not different; it’s not “more funny” because there’s no actual person right in front of you, staring you down and reminding you that what you’re doing is shameful.  Just like using the n-word is shameful, whether or not there’s an African American in the room to observe you, denigrating or dehumanizing any group of people, or making light of their suffering, is a mark of poor character.  What you think of as “relevant” witnesses are irrelevant; the power lies with you, and with the message you choose to share with the world.

If you stand idly by and watch as someone else is harassed, then you’re part of the problem.

If you don’t actively take a stand and correct other people when they use hateful language, then you’re part of the problem.

You can make all the arguments you want about how women should just go around armed all the time, because the responsibility (apparently) lies with them to protect themselves.  Instead of, you know, with the men who decide to rape them.  Or the educational institutions, and workplaces, that are so alienating and shaming that they make actually focusing on the task at hand almost impossible.  It’s hard to focus on your classes, when your teachers keep telling you that you’re not allowed to wear shorts because someone might want to have sex with you.  Like, in the middle of class, apparently.  But the fact is, by making these arguments–and by watching, in silence, as your female classmates are shamed out of higher education for not wearing the western equivalent of a burqa–you’re contributing to a culture of sexism.

Making apologist arguments for sexism, or even outright rape, or otherwise telling women–including by your silence–that it’s their problem, and theirs alone, is contributing to a culture of sexism.

If you can step out of the conflict at all, then, on some level, you’re recognizing–and accepting–your own privilege.

Tell me, again, how this isn’t part of the problem?

How To Market Your Self-Published Book

Or, indeed, your traditionally published book.  Because the world of publishing is changing.  Many of us, as writers, have an image of the writing life largely informed by rather fanciful descriptions of said–usually given by the writers themselves and that reflect, if any reality at all, then an aspirational one.  Lord Byron famously described his poetry as flowing off the page, an act that barely required any conscious thought.  And yet a look at his notes reveals that he, in fact, labored over every line.  That each poem was a grueling, often disheartening labor.  And to hear John Updike tell it, writing was merely something he did to pass the time between bouts of inappropriate activity with other men’s wives.  So I suppose it’s not inexplicable that, today, many writers dream of the same: creating, effortlessly or not so effortlessly, and then leaving others to do the hard work of translating that fun into money.

Putting aside, for the moment, that neither Lord Byron nor John Updike were precisely in need of money, nor did they write to generate income, the days of calling up your buddies from Harvard and telling them to “publish this” while you go back to lounging on Crane Beach are over–if, indeed, they ever truly existed in the first place.  The literary world is, less and less, a ghetto of white male privilege.  Self publishing has leveled the playing field in more ways than one.  And even traditional publishing is changing; swelling catalogues and dwindling profit margins mean that you, as an author, are more responsible for your success than you ever were before.  A contract with one of the Big Five no longer guarantees that your book will be successfully marketed, or marketed at all.  An unfortunate fact that’s especially true if no one’s ever heard of you.  As in, if you need marketing the most.  Because your publisher is looking at his bottom line, just like you are; there isn’t the excess cash to spend on gambles.  All you’re getting, with a traditional publishing contract, in exchange for giving up your rights to your own work in perpetuity, is the promise that your book might get marketed–and a lot of directions for how you’re supposed to help out.

Which means that, unfortunately, the problem is inescapable: you have to market your own book.

The good news here is twofold.  First, it’s a lot easier to give up the dream of some mythical publisher in the sky doing all the hard work when you acknowledge that it’s magical thinking.  The experiences of, say, Updike are pretty irrelevant to a world with internet.  And the most successful writers in the world, like Stephen King, have always been open about the fact that writing was a heck of a hard job and involved a heck of a lot more than pecking at a typewriter.  In no field that I know of does there come a magic point where you get to stop working, or at least stop working at those parts of your job that you don’t enjoy, but still continue to enjoy success.  Especially growing success.  Success takes work.  Taking responsibility for your own success, in the form of marketing, is part of success and yes, it too is hard work.

Second, although marketing is hard work, it doesn’t have to be misery-inducing.  I talk to writers all the time who feel completely overwhelmed by even the idea of marketing.  Where do they begin?  How much money should they spend?  How can they know if they’re even successful in their efforts?  There are a lot of ideas out there for how to market yourself as a writer but not a lot of metrics on what, in terms of real numbers, constitutes success.

So, much like the publishing process itself, you’re essentially throwing yourself off a cliff.

What fun.

First, before I get into specific marketing strategies, I want to give you three life strategies that you can and should apply to marketing–and everything else.  The internet is like a gas; it expands to fill the space provided.  Give it the opportunity to take over your life and it will.  Before too long, your best marketing efforts are going to seem like pouring your soul into a black hole.  You can tweet and post and do whatever else for sixteen hours straight and there will still be more to do.  You’ll end up feeling hopeless.  Which is why you need to:

Limit the time you spend each day on marketing, and other writing-related activities that aren’t actually writing.  Set yourself somewhere between ten minutes and an hour and after that, let it go.  Move on to something else.  The side benefit here, too, to limiting your time is that doing so forces you to think seriously about which endeavors are most worthy of your effort.  Is it posting to your blog?  Researching new ad space?  You can’t do it all; giving yourself unlimited time only feeds the (dangerous and ultimately debilitating) myth that you can.
Write.  Writing is still your priority, or should be.  Don’t let telling people about your writing become more important than actually doing it.
Recognize that this is a marathon, not a sprint, and chill out.  You won’t see results right away, if by “results” you mean sufficient book sales to cover your mortgage payment.  And that’s okay.  Your goal, here, should be to get your name out there.  To build your fan base and to maintain the fan base you already have.

So, all that being said, here’s how you should be marketing your book:

Write your next book.  Writing should be your priority.  Remember, you’re trying to succeed as a writer, not a media icon.  Building up your backlist is the single biggest thing you can do, in terms of ensuring your own success.  Doing so will both help you keep the fans you have–who are fans of your writing, remember, not you–as well as give new fans more books to buy.  Readers tend to binge-buy books; if you give them the first entry in a series and they like it, they’ll buy the rest of the series (or at least the next few entries) to have it on hand.  Moreover, as I’m fond of pointing out, one book does not a successful career make–any more than one good week at the office does a successful career make.  As an attorney, for example, it’s a great feeling when you win a case.  But you don’t retire after your first win, to spend the rest of your life basking in the praise.  Because, well…the praise dries up.  What’s next, everyone wonders?  A lawyer makes her reputation on a lifetime of successful cases.  Similarly, you’re going to make your reputation–or not–on a lifetime of well crafted books.
Make sure it’s a good book.  Once in awhile–and this is particularly common among self published authors–I’ll find a great first book and be really excited.  So I’ll pick up the author’s second book and be hideously disappointed that it’s just a hot mess.  You have to, as a writer, remember that that’s your name on the cover and hence your stamp of approval.  Putting out any old product isn’t enough; your goal here is to build a reputation for consistent quality.  Each book is, in that sense, your first book–and your last.  Your last in the sense that, if readers don’t continue to love your series, or each of your stand alone novels, they’ll drop you.  And deservedly so.  So remember that, and don’t get cocky.
Start a blog.  Post to it regularly.  Commit to quality content.  I’ve written a lot here, on this site, about how to write and how to write a blog, specifically.  So have a lot of other people, on a lot of other sites.  In my case, I’m not a new writer but I am relatively new to the published world; my first book came out in June and it’s now the first of July.  I started this blog a couple of weeks before my first book came out.  In that time–so about six weeks–I’ve gone from getting a handful of hits a week to several thousand.  And you, my readers, have pretty much found me through a combination of Google searches and word of mouth.  Several people have been generous enough to share my work on Twitter, or in online digests, and that’s been a tremendous boost as well.  Now, the thing about having a blog is, just having one isn’t enough to drive traffic; just like publishing any old thing and calling it a book isn’t enough to make you a bestseller.  You have to have good content, and content tailored to your readership.  Done right, a blog is a tremendous opportunity to share your voice with the world and, yes, with potential buyers of your books.
Make large portions of your book available online, for free, for people to read.  “Try before you buy” is an age-old formula for success.  Just check out the sample stations at Costco on a Saturday afternoon and you’ll see what I mean.  That is, if you can even see what’s on offer through the lines of expectant samplers six people deep.  If you have a good book, you’ll want people to read it.  Conversely, not letting people sample your work speaks to a lack of confidence.  Are you afraid that they won’t like your writing?  Won’t be interested enough in the story to buy the book?  If you’ve written a good enough book, you can put everything up but the last chapter and people will still spend 2.99 to find out what happens.
Get a Twitter account, and use it.  But not to spam people.  Check out the tag “Twitter” on this blog for my (many) thoughts on that subject.  The goal of your Twitter experience, and indeed of your entire social media experience, should be to build personal relationships.  Slowly and painstakingly, one fan at a time.
Connect with your fans.  When they write to you, be gracious.  Thank them sincerely.  Make the time to write back.  Let them know how much it means to you that they’ve enjoyed your book, without placing any burden on them (i.e. don’t tell them, now read this next one).  I do recommend asking, politely, if they’d consider writing an Amazon review.  Few readers realize how much this means to writers, or how much positive reviews can drive up their sales.  But, again, be gracious; don’t push the issue.  A review is a favor.
Start a mailing list.  Put content on that mailing list (which should clog up everyone’s inboxes no more than twice a month, or it’ll get marked as spam and defeat the purpose, not to mention alienate those fans generous enough to sign up in the first place) that readers won’t get anywhere else: writing tips, exclusive chapters, things like that.  I have a mailing list, and it’s awesome!  I know, you’re probably thinking, a mailing list sounds so very 1997.  But this isn’t your (older brother’s?) listserv.  It’s not a listserv at all.  It’s classy.
Hand out review copies like there’s no tomorrow.  Is there a blogger you like?  Send them a review copy (or, if they don’t have directions for how to do this, ask them if you can send one).  Do you have friends and neighbors?  Give them some, too.
Approach a writer you admire, and ask him if he’d consider blurbing your (next) book.  The worst than can happen is he’ll say no.  But a seal of approval from an already established writer can do a lot to boost your credibility.  Which, really, this operates off of the same theory as an Amazon review–only turbocharged.  Other people like this is proof, to the reading world, that there’s meaningful content behind the advertising gloss.  Anyone, after all, can pay for impressive advertising; a good publicist can write an Amazon page that makes almost anything sound fascinating.  Reviews–from whomever–are proof of an independent opinion.  Someone saying yes, this is good without being paid to do so.

Which is why paid advertising only gets you so far.  My limited experience with paid advertising is that it isn’t nearly as effective, in terms of generating book sales, as word of mouth.  And so far, while I have–more as an experiment than anything else–engaged in a couple of paid promotions, I haven’t found them to be worth much in terms of sales.

For the most part, my readers have found me–not the other way around.  And I’m incredibly grateful for that.  But I think the heart of success, in marketing, is remembering what you’re marketing and, moreover, what your marketing is endeavoring to produce.  Too much advertising, in my opinion, makes things too much about the writer and not enough about the book–or, ideally, books.  Your best bet is absolutely always going to be to continue writing and for your focus to be on producing consistent, quality work.  Remember, you don’t have to be a bestseller right off the bat for your first book to eventually become a bestseller.  The virtue of particularly self publishing is that your book is on that virtual shelf forever.  It’ll never be remaindered.  You have all the time in the world to become a billionaire; trying to make it happen overnight is self defeating.  Just keep writing and remember: cream rises.  Quality always will out, in the end–and, conversely, all the marketing in the world can’t make a bad book good.  If you produce a quality product, eventually it will find its market.

Review: Cheeburger Cheeburger

The Choose Your Own Adventure menu: it’s a fabulous concept, and one that I’ve yet to see executed successfully.  So I was excited to discover that a new place had opened in town, called Cheeburger Cheeburger.  Yet another place promising the exact same thing, as far as a fully customizable menu that would undoubtedly delight my tastebuds.  Served to me, of course, in a kitschy atmosphere that would make me cheerfully nostalgic for the 1950′s.

Well, being a) a so-called millennial and b) having sent Mr. PJ for takeout, none of that last part applied to me.  An oversight on their part, as nothing about the burger I (eventually) received screamed I Like Ike.  Nor does the menu feature any of the foods that were actually popular in the 1950′s, like Swedish meatballs or pineapple SPAM kabobs.  The hamburger wasn’t yet the national icon it is today; the first McDonald’s, opened by Richard and Maurice McDonald, didn’t appear on the scene (in San Bernadino) until 1955.  But this isn’t an article about how we get roadside stands (good), car hops (sketchtastic) and poodle skirts (now hipster) confused.  But, rather, about my sadly lackluster dinner.

First, Mr. PJ waited about 30 minutes after phoning in the order to pick it up, and another 30 minutes at the actual place.  How do I know this?  Duh, I’m the parent of a toddler; I time my life in half-hour segments.  Tiny Satan and I were able to watch (and re-watch) a number of Mickey Mouse Club House episodes in the time that he cried for dinner and Daddy was gone.  So part of the problem I suppose, at the outset, would be that we were all feeling pretty wretched by the time we sat down for dinner.  And very, very hungry, which should have made our food taste delicious.

I ordered the “semi-serious burger,” described on the menu as “everybody’s favorite,” which claimed to be 7 oz but which certainly didn’t appear to be.  I’d been initially really excited to see that provolone and marinara sauce were two of the possible toppings, instantly transported back to my college days where such a glorious combination featured prominently on the menu at our local burger joint.  I was disappointed, therefore, to see that my actual burger–which set us back about eight bucks–was competently if uninspiringly cooked and almost devoid of toppings.  There was a (thin) slice of provolone but only the merest smidgeon of marinara.  So little, in fact, that I really wasn’t able to detect it on my burger.  Certainly not taste-wise and barely only visually.  The bun was okay, if floppy and too easily squished.  To me, it had the consistency of Wonder Bread.

I also ordered the “best of both” basket, a combination of fries and onion rings, and several of their so-called signature sauces.  The “creamy cheese” sauce can only fairly be described as a “cheese lover’s delight” if your cheese love is extruded from a can.  Or if you’re especially fond of the cheese “sauce” you sometimes find at particularly sketchy ballparks.  You know, the ones that attract flies and that my sister’s mother in law says “reminds her of Mexico, but not in a good way?”  Likewise, there was no sense of freshness here.

The “zesty horseradish” left me similarly nonplussed.  Now, maybe it’s because I’m from a part of the world where food has flavor, but I expect cheese sauce to taste like cheese and something described as “zesty” to have some zest to it.  If you think Hidden Valley Ranch has “zest,” then this is zesty.  Otherwise, all of their various sauces tasted vaguely like interchangeable flavors of book binding glue.

The fries and rings themselves were abysmal.  Even my toddler wasn’t too sure of them, and ultimately gave them a miss.  As did Mr. PJ.  Now, in all fairness to the restaurant, their fry cook clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing.  Fried food only gets that greasy when the oil isn’t hot enough.  A fast, hot fry leads to that bizarrely delicious oxymoron known as “dry” greasy food and a nice crispy crust.  These offerings…the only hint to the onion rings having been near a fryer was the coat of batter on them.  A dubious-tasting batter at best.  So we have a situation here where either a) the chain as a whole has horrendously low standards or b) the manager of this particular location has a fairly limited grasp of the term quality control.  Neither is really, you know, considering that this is the only location near my house, a good thing.

The one redeeming feature to our dinner was our shakes.  I got a peanut butter banana shake and Mr. PJ got a chocolate banana shake.  But, as the menu advertises the shakes as being made with a well-known local premium ice cream, of course they were good.  And for what they cost, they should have endowed us with magic powers.

Yes, folks, this entire meal–for two adults and a toddler, adults who shared a “best of both” basket–cost FIFTY-ODD DOLLARS.

All in all, this particular dining experience left a lot to be desired.  Especially given that, for the same price, we could have taken Tiny Satan to a reasonably priced chain restaurant like Chili’s where that fifty dollars would have included dessert.  From start to finish, this whole experience reminded me of our trips to Sonic in that, strangely and disappointingly, all this wealth of choice managed to not create anything worth eating.  I was left feeling both underwhelmed and inexplicably cheated; probably because I couldn’t stop thinking about how awesome this menu could have been.  And how awesome that fifty bucks would have been still sitting in my wallet.

Final score: 3.5 out of 10.

Would we eat there again: no.

I Stand With Israel

And I always have.  But I do today, particularly, in solidarity with the parents who’ve just lost their boys.  As a parent, myself, I cannot imagine anything more horrible.  Except, perhaps, for hearing how thousands of people are using your grief as a chance to make a political statement.  Especially when that political statement is, essentially, that your child–the child for whom you would have gladly given your heart, if he needed a transplant–brought his death upon himself.

Because, don’t kid yourself: if your response to this tragedy has been to talk about Palestine, then that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.

Shame on you.

You don’t need to be Jewish (and I’m not) to see, all around you, the evidence that antisemitism is alive and well or that our collective understanding of the crisis in Israel is built on a host of misunderstandings.  Misunderstandings to outright lies.  That we talk about Israel in terms of Palestine at all promotes the worst of these, and the one from which all others flow: that Israel, as a state, is negotiable.  A statement I’ve heard, ironically enough, from hordes of American born college students of European descent.  So, in other words, people whose ancestors made room for themselves on a foreign continent who now, in the name of “equality,” would ban others from doing the same.

Forget that Israel, as a geographic and cultural entity, predates our modern concept of geographic boundaries, forget those actual boundaries, by thousands of years.  Forget that Israel’s only “agenda” is to coexist, in peace, with her neighbors.  Forget that, in Israel, you–as both citizen and traveler–enjoy freedoms enjoyed nowhere else in the Middle East.  Ironically it is Israel, which lives out the meaning of the prophet Mohammed’s assertion that we–Jews, Christians, and Muslims–are all “people of the book,” all inheritors of the Abrahamic tradition and indeed of the wisdom of Abraham and that we should therefore strive to live in peace.  In Israel, no one will stop you from wearing a cross as a symbol of your faith; in most of the Middle East, apostasy is a capital offense.

Israel is here.

No one–at least no one rational–denies the horrific treatment that our native peoples, in America, have received over the years.  First at the hands of the settlers and then, even now, at the hands of a government that for the most part refuses to honor its treaties with the handful of native nations we have left.  And yet, I’ve yet to find an American who would condone a native rights group responding by firebombing a bus filled with schoolchildren.  Filled with his children.  Suddenly, when cast in this new light, the argument of “these children are somehow committing war crimes, by having been born on the same block where I choose to live” falls flat.  So does the, “you have no right to defend your children” argument.  Or do we, as a nation, suddenly believe that giving in to terrorists’ demands is the right response?  Because, you know, I don’t see that happening.

Because this argument doesn’t apply to America, or to American children; it applies solely to Israel.

Israel is supposed to atone, where no other country would be expected to do so.  And atone for what, exactly?  And if Israel must atone for the crime of–potentially–usurping another’s spot then what about the countries of Europe?  The Second World War began over first one man’s, and then a group of men’s, and women’s, feelings that everyone should atone for redrawing boundaries.  Which is exactly how the First World War began.  And did it help?  Did annexing Poland bring peace?  Did the rest of the world’s initial policy of appeasement bring peace?

If insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over again but somehow expecting different results, then lunacy is expecting Israel to forever play the victim in denial of logic until Israel finally disappears.

Something I learned, in my own life, is that the people who are hurting you don’t like it when you finally stand up for yourself.

And something else I learned is that acknowledging your right to exist doesn’t make you wrong.

And if you think that the lives of three children are less important than your abstract notions of who “should” live where, then you should think long and hard about why.

I stand with Israel, and you should, too.

Why You Should Subscribe To My Mailing List

Because it’s amazeballs.

Obviously.

What my mailing list isn’t is a lot of spammy BS about how you need to buy my book because it’s un-putdownable and the best thing ever.  It isn’t links written by other people, to things you don’t care about and it isn’t reminders to read my blog.  I’m kind of hoping that, if you’re interested enough in my writing to consider signing up for my mailing list in the first place that you’re also maybe considering buying one of my books, so I really don’t feel like I need to insult your intelligence by telling you that they’re there.  Just waiting, on Amazon, the proverbial fruit that’s “resting on the vine” and “calling from the trees.”  And the same goes for my blog; that’s what RSS feeds are for.

No, what you get on my mailing list is the following:

No more than two emails per month.
Exclusive content that’s actually interesting: teaser chapters from upcoming books, elsewhere unpublished short stories, and other things to entertain you on your lunch break.  That are, you know, actually entertaining.  I believe that a good mailing list should read like any good publication and that means, first and foremost, that it actually be readable and not some self-serving drivel.  I may include some information about release dates, but as I don’t release a new book very often that shouldn’t be too bad.
Writing tips (above and beyond those found in my book on how to write).

So you should totally sign up.  There’s a widget.  And I, in turn, will continue to work on making my mailing list amazing.

The Gummy Bear Ranking System: Explained

Sometimes something’s best overall; sometimes it’s merely best in class.  Like, for example, Duncan Hines may be the best store brand devil’s food cake mix, but my raspberry-filled devil’s food cupcakes with Nutella buttercream frosting are the best overall.  Just saying.  The problem with the traditional five star ranking system is that it lumps all the classes in together; which, in my opinion, doesn’t give you a very nuanced rating.  And thus, a very informative one.  And I want ratings that are informative!  I want to know, not just, did you like it, but is it best in class?  Worst in class?  How does it compare, over all, to contributions from other classes?  Because, in addition to class-related quality, there’s also overall quality.

So to that end, I present you with the only ranking system you will ever need: the gummy bear ranking system.

All your favorite Haribo flavors in a convenient, non-edible form!

Now, my particular ranking system is entertainment-related since I am, after all (and this still surprises me) part of the entertainment industry.  Also known as a mismatched and only tenuously connected bunch of hacks who are, both individually and in teams, doing our best to amuse you.  Some of us have defected and now design children’s pajamas.

Because ghost camo.

First, a brief explanation of what each color means:

Gold (lemon) gummy bears: best overall/overall quality.
Green (green apple) gummy bears: best serious/thought provoking F/SF/other specified genre.
Green (lime) gummy bears: best light F/SF/other specified genre.
Blue (blue raspberry) gummy bears: best romance.
Grape (purple) gummy bears: best action.
Red (cherry) gummy bears: best serious/thought provoking storyline.
Orange (orange) gummy bears: best comedy.
Pineapple (pineapple) gummy bears: best pyrotechnics.
Pink (fruity bubblegum) gummy bears: best guilty pleasure.
Black (cola) gummy bears: best historical accuracy.

So for example, Game of Thrones (the HBO series, which, although I shudder to say this, is significantly better than its literary counterpart for a variety of reasons) would get 4 out of 5 gold gummy bears for overall quality; meaning that, as entertainment, it holds its own against everything from Tammy to Schindler’s List.  The screenwriting is first rate, especially the dialogue, the conceptualization, particularly of female characters, is both multi-faceted and believable, and the production values are out of this world.  However, in terms of best historical accuracy, Game of Thrones is NOT an accurate depiction of the middle ages, in any way, shape or form, and would probably get a 2 out of 5 on that scale.  Whereas Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, due to its extraordinary attention to detail, would probably receive a 5 out of 5 in that same category but perhaps a 3 out of 5 overall.

Whereas The Gods Must Be Crazy would probably get 1 out of 5 gold gummy bears, or maybe even half a gold gummy bear, because, racism, but it’s also–I mean, it’s one of those movies where you hate yourself for laughing.  So, 5 out of 5 for best guilty pleasure.  Or any Mel Brooks movie, really.  I don’t care what you say, Blazing Saddles is one of the funniest movies ever made.  Still, can it accurately be compared on the same chart as an icon like Schindler’s List?  Is that fair to either film?

Are you beginning to see the genius of my design?

What are your favorite books, movies, and other forms of entertainment and how would you rank them?

Why Adam and Steve Make The Best Parents After All

Speaking as an adoptee, it astonishes me that anyone feels like languishing in foster care is a better alternative for children than being welcomed into the homes of people who want them.  Which, of course, conservatives will tell you they’re not doing; they’re simply concerned that children find appropriate homes.  The assumptions underlying which statement are mind-blowing, both in their naivite and in their downright stupidity.

Please, allow me to explain.

First, I’m going to point out that this is not a political diatribe.  Nor is it an LGBT rights diatribe.  Politics and, of course, faithful adherence to the Constitution–a document promising equal rights to all, regardless of whether their lifestyle offends your religion–are important.  But I’m not speaking in the abstract; I’m addressing this issue and you, my reading public, from the perspective of someone who’s been through the system and who knows, firsthand, what’s at stake.  Because if you think this is about “traditional families,” you’re wrong.  Bottom line.

Finally meeting people who love you, and who actually want you, is the best thing ever.  The sad truth is that many, if not most children who end being adopted by others have no idea what that feels like.  Many never have.  The myth of anguished teenaged mothers and desperate couples, just waiting in the wings is just that–a myth.  Sure, babies get adopted, although not as often as you’d think; particularly if they’re not white or if they have medical issues.  Even curable medical issues.  People want perfect babies and there’s this unspoken agreement that, to be adoptable, you have to somehow make up for the innate deficiency of not being their genetic material.  A child with, say, GI tract issues would be accepted into their home if he were born into it but you, you’re auditioning.

And once you’re old enough that people can no longer pretend that you’re their baby–i.e. once you’re no longer a baby–no one wants you at all.  This is, believe me, a truth that foster children learn early on.  If for no other reason than that their social workers have to discuss it with them.  Foster care works, to the extent that it does, by making the facts of your situation just the facts of life.  Spend too much time laboring over the emotion of it all and you’ll lose your mind–you and your social worker, and whatever foster family you’re staying with, and just about everybody else involved.  What can seem like cruelty from the outside, really isn’t.  The fact is, you and your foster care brethren are basically the human equivalent of those puppies you see at mall pet stores; looking out at the world and hoping that maybe, just maybe, this once, someone will stop.  When enough people have stopped, and moved on, because you weren’t lovable enough to join their family…someone has to address the issue with you.

Because trust me, kids notice.  And if they’re like me, they came to this unlovely situation from an even worse one; where violent and dope-addled parents told them, when they noticed them at all, that they were less lovable than pond scum.  Parents who pimp you out to their friends; parents who forget to feed you for days on end.  I’m not the only product of the system who knows what moldy bread and toilet water taste like.

When most people think of adoption, they think of years-long waiting lists.  They’re trained to feel sorry for the couples whose overseas adoptions fell through, who couldn’t take their own babies home with them.  They’re not trained to think of the countless three year olds who were passed over for this honor, toddlers right here in the US of A, who weren’t even considered by those same couples because they were toddlers.  I look at my own son and I don’t understand it.  He is my biological child, the only member of my family who’ll ever be biologically related to me, but I can tell you perfectly honestly that it wouldn’t have mattered.  And I can’t imagine looking at any child and rejecting them simply on the basis of age.  To do so seems profoundly narcissistic to me; is another human being’s worth really based on what you can convince yourself of their origins?

No, a child who’s grown up in foster care, or lately arrived there from a crack den, might not have been played all the baby Mozart CD’s or given all the best, most brain-developing toys…but so what?

Nothing challenges your faith in the world, as a kid, by knowing that the very fact of your original parents not loving you has now made you unlovable to everyone else.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, Mr. PJ and I are planning on adopting a second child next year.  Tiny Satan will be getting an older sister, or brother.  Adopting from foster care is free, incidentally.

There are no waiting lists for toddlers, because nobody wants toddlers.  And there are certainly no waiting lists for six year olds.  By the time you’re six, you’ve pretty much been labeled as unadoptable–and trust me, you know this about yourself.  So imagine what it’s like being ten and being told, again, that no one wants you.  The good news and the bad news are the same news: if your experience was anything like mine, then the idea didn’t come as any great surprise.  The idea that someone might actually want me was what came as the surprise, and to this day it isn’t an idea that I can really credit.

I have a very, very hard time believing that my family loves me or wants me, or that my husband does, or that my friends do.  And yes, both therapy and time are wonderful things.  Time, in all honesty, more so.  As is patience–from all quarters.

But imagine, for a minute, the miracle of someone coming along and saying I DO want you.  I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, and can’t imagine anything more wonderful than making you a part of my family.  Trust me on this, there is no feeling that an adult experiences, even an exceptionally happy adult, that comes close to this feeling.

And now imagine being told, by people who are perfectly aware of your situation and perfectly aware of the fact that no one else wants you, that a lifetime of abandonment is better for your psyche than being raised by people who don’t fit some sort of abstract ideal.  That it’s better for you to have NO family than to have a family that isn’t “perfect.”  What constitutes perfect, you may wonder?  My family certainly isn’t perfect, but they love me.  I know what it’s like to have nobody love me, which means I know what an incredible gift from God love really is.

A particularly hateful person–who’s related to my husband, actually–told me once that “no mother” didn’t want her child, so I must have done something awful.  She further opined as how she didn’t think I should be married to her precious relation.  I think there’s a lot more of this anti-child type sentiment underlying the issue than we as a society are willing to admit.  Too many of us–believe me, I’ve discovered the hard way–just aren’t comfortable admitting that, yes, some adults are just that fucked up.  It’s more comfortable to blame the children involved than to acknowledge the fault in our most cherished fantasies.  Fantasies that, for example, maternal love is just “natural” and “effortless.”

Conveniently, this same sentiment is used to justify denying gay couples the right to adopt.  Two men, or so the (completely ridiculous) argument goes, just don’t have whatever innate “magic” a mother possesses.  Which, to someone who still bears a variety of interesting scars (including a nice collection of cigarette burns on both forearms) from my so-called “mother,” is interesting to hear.  So nobody else could ever love me that much, eh?

It’s a profoundly damaging point of view to–pardon my pun–adopt.

I didn’t end up with two gay parents, but I would’ve been perfectly happy to.  I would’ve been perfectly happy to go to any home where no one was beating or raping me.  Or worse.  For most of my childhood, I honestly couldn’t conceive of the idea that there was something beyond that.  The mere absence of fear sounded like Paradise.  It was years, actual years, after I finally was safe that I began appreciating other aspects of my situation.

The people who actually want to take on kids who’ve been exposed to these kinds of situations are the real parents.  The people who, I believe, God intends to be parents.  Because believe me, they’ve got the unconditional love, and the patience, that His son was all about.  Anyone who claims to be a Christian–and, after all, it’s some fool notion of what the Bible supposedly “intends” that keeps getting trotted out to justify prejudice–should recognize that.

I was lucky.

Knowing that other kids won’t be so lucky, because some bloviating blow hard can’t stop touching his Bible, makes me sad.