It's a Matter of Taste and Personal Dignity

First disclaimer:  if you haven't noticed yet, I am a bitter old crone.

I don't blog much anymore. But I have gone through dry spells before. Lately, something just keeps me from that keyboard. And as for my fiction, I have notebooks of three or four works in progress. Just can't get it onto the machine. Think I know why. Think I am warming up. I am just not caught up in the excitement of the process anymore. I show spikes in readership that have no relationship to my activity. I get royalties for sales that don't show up in any analytics. How am I supposed to know what works? There is no explanation for having 183 blog hits one day and 52 the next when I haven't even posted of late. I know. Something showed up in someone's comments, or on some google entry. But I am tired of floundering around like a beached fish searching for the right water hole.

I read a lot about trad pub versus e pub. These are two schools of mind that have nothing in common. One is playing football, the other is ice skating, but they think they are doing the same thing cuz they both are "sportsing".

I always wanted to put my two cents in, but lately 2 out of 3 comments I make, I erase instead of submitting. How my public must be suffering!

Today, on an agent's blog, something struck me. She is really nice and helpful and seems kind. (Some are such sharks.) The commentors were having a healthy back and forth about making changes in your work to please some agent or editor or publisher. Can't do it. If you don't like my style, oh, well.  I am very fond of it. So I wrote this comment and erased it without submitting. I could only think of a not too decorous kind of an analogy. Here, my page, my editing, I can let it roll.

A pimp tells his stable they need to wear shorter skirts. Business is slow. The newest member of the family takes this to heart and complies. Unbeknownst to her, the guy in the little black BMW is cruising, looking for his favorite fetish  -  a cute little chick in a kilt and argyles.

 No point in trying to please "the customer". Maybe there is a general trend or style that appeals to more, but if that's not your style, you have to wait for the customer who likes your style. So go out there and get 'em with your argyle sox and plaid skirt. At least you will find someone who appreciates you.

Photo attribution:  Acid Cow.com

Mixed feelings

This is the plan. I am going to rotate the four books through Select and rewrite each one, heavily editing the sex out of the first, at several people's suggestions, and doing new covers at least for the third. I feel like I am done being a writer. I wanted to do the four and they are done. And they pretty much are tanking. I average a sale a day. I realize that is sixty times better than no sales for months at a time, but the word of mouth thing is not working for me. I blame my personality and lifestyle for that.

But I'd like to say a few things about the "business" end of this business. I get lots of email and even phone calls that they want to tell me about this publishing deal and that. Okay. Leave me alone. I'm published. Unless you have some promo ideas, I have nothing to say to you and I don't want to listen to you. Word of mouth is the ONLY thing missing from my equation and you cannot sell me a program for that. Don't ask me to send you copies of my work. It is all out there in many different forms or places. If you can't do anything else, you can name search for me. As far as I know there is one other Virginia Llorca and she is a 23 year old girl in North Carolina.

Thanks to everyone who read my stories and double triple thanks to those who said nice things about them, and think about the Karma, especially you family members who pretend it doesn't exist or it's a whim. Read any Lora Leigh and then get back to me about MY work.

The only thing that is bothering me now is that I am toying with ideas. It is just because I am bored and am so very unused to dealing with a sense of relief. I'm trying to talk myself out of it.

Today's CTA: Do you get angry with yourself when you break promises to yourself or do you just shake it off? What do you learn from the experience? Share.

Saturday, March 25, 2012

This is not a chart of my mood swings. If it were there would be more peaks and valleys. It is a graph of my blog hits for the week. It is nuts.

I posted about my two freebies and had the dates wrong for ANYMORE and the link wrong for THE MAZE. I post in a German forum, an Italian forum, a French forum, and I think I hit up the Spanish forum this time, so I made the mistakes international in scope.

Today was my daughter's thirtieth birthday and everyone had such a good time. It was so nice. Her little girl took some of her first steps and I got to see it. We blew bubbles in the driveway and even my dad said it was a great party. No small praise from such as he.

And now I am #92 on the Amazon best seller list of 100 for my genre. This is even with the mistakes I made. It is basically meaningless in the long run, kind of equates in my mind to having someone tell me my hair looks nice but what a great day. And while we were gone, Henry did not pee the carpet.

Louie said that Lisa called this morning and asked if the women from the courts had called to tell us we have been awarded custody of Billy. There is a terrible misunderstanding here somewhere, but still I feared coming home and finding him standing on the porch with a bag of clothes. This is a huge tragedy, but I might as well try to win the election as figure this one out. What that girl has done to people's lives is beyond horrible and when I think of the darling baby she was and how happy I was to hold her and take her for walks and watch her take a step, it is fucking heart breaking. And the one thing about getting this old is I know I cannot do a thing about it and I won't even try and I won't bother feeling guilt about it. I do feel anger toward the people that have made such a muck up of his life and thwarted all the good I did for him. But I look at Jupiter and Saturn and say "What's up with that?" and think this was a beautiful day.

Rejection letters

Feel bad when you query an agent about your most illustrious work? Sad they don't appreciate genius when they see it? Feel the whole world is being done a disservice because your wisdom and wit will not be available to them? Depressed and confused because you are beginning to realize your mission to change the history of civilization will never be fulfilled since some ignorant, misguided gate keeper doesn't fall in love with your masterpiece?

This is Hunter S. Thompson's idea for a rejection letter. He didn't actually send it. He gave it to Rolling Stone along with the piles of stuff people had send to him unsolicited. They admitted they used it a few times.


You worthless, acid-sucking piece of illiterate shit! Don’t ever send this kind of brain-damaged swill in here again. If I had the time, I’d come out there and drive a fucking wooden stake into your forehead. Why don’t you get a job, germ? Maybe delivering advertising handouts door to door, or taking tickets for a wax museum. You drab South Bend cocksuckers are all the same; like those dope-addled dingbats at the Rolling Stone office. I’d like to kill those bastards for sending me your piece … and I’d just as soon kill you, too. Jam this morbid drivel up your ass where your readership will better appreciate it.

Courtesy of Futility Closet via Wikimedia

From the Playhouse

I've already been read the White Paper on why it is not nice to "shit" in the Playhouse. So I have left the Playhouse for the moment to say words that I know are not "shit" in my own house, on my own soapbox (If you don't want to read them, you can leave.) , but judgmental people also seem to be kind of quick on the draw. At least in my experience.

The organ harvesting entity in our state is corporate. Here is part of their statement regarding employment.

" Our employees enjoy competitive salaries, a team environment and business-casual workplace attire. Qualified full-time staff receive full medical, dental, vision and life insurance benefits, as well as pension and tuition reimbursement benefits and a generous time-off plan.

All of our employees work in support of our critical mission: to save and enhance the lives of as many people as possible through organ and tissue donation.

All candidates must demonstrate excellent verbal, written and interpersonal communication skills; be detail-oriented; possess the ability to handle multiple projects; and possess the ability to work independently. Basic computer skills are a must. Travel by personal auto and the ability to work outside normal business hours may be required."

A teenager gets $15.00 plus to sell t-shirts in a record store in this neighborhood. Also, a corporation may stipulate they are not for profit in order to get certain ear marked funds, but they manage to build executive type salaries into that structure. A fund raiser for Community Chest cannot live in North Oak Park on thirty grand a year.

Certain people with certain lifestyles tend to take offense at certain things. I feel this is drawing a parallel, not making a judgement. That is, of course, an exercise in semantics. I have gotten on my high horse about being treated dismissively before, and I will fight it. Say it if you want, but I do have the ammo. And as I have said before I will lend you some so the battle will at least be almost even. People say things in public about their most personal relationships, like why it is just easier to give the husband a blow job then have to explain one's thoughts on love and respect to him. They can do what ever they want in their multi layered lives. My marriage and my life in general are travesties of the case model. Maybe yours is model perfect. I don't fucking care. What I do care about is you pointing a finger of judgement at me for no reason. I did not point the finger of judgement at you, so back the fuck off.

Do you honestly think Larry Hagman or Steve Jobs were on a waiting list? Do you know all the fine print on signing the organ donor thing on your driver's license? The rules about why you can't let the EMT intubate the 92 year old stroke patient, and what you MUST do to prevent that? The ramifications of putting the tube in versus taking the tube out. I don't care what kind of environment you work in, there are people doing the same job you are doing that are way dumber and less capable than you, just as there are people doing the same job you are doing that are way smarter and way more capable. There is also a very broad spectrum among these various people regarding their moral judgement and personal prejudices or beliefs.

I am not going to go look in a book to find out if I should put a certain comma in a certain place in a certain sentence. I am not going to take what someone else "feeds" me as the truth. I am going to make my own decisions based on my personal experience, my knowledge, and carefully gleaned and weighed knowledge and opinion from other more experienced people. Then I am going to do exactly what I want and make a shit load of mistakes, errrors, wrong turns, false statements, and when I find out about it, I will apologize. I will also live with the results of my choices.

When zulily, or some like entity, asks me to post for them on my Pinterest board, that is whoring. When I post a link or a remark on Mises.org, that is whoring. When you have sex with someone you don't respect cuz he makes the car payment, or lets you come first, or whatever, that is whoring. I do not care what sex either of you are, or whether or not a priest made a gesture in front of you, or you have a piece of paper with an embossed emblem on it. Everyone is a whore for something. But that is just MY opinion, my PERSONAL feelings,and another exercise in semantics.

It is strange how you get a sense of pure hatred through the ethernet. It is so palpable, and yet, it cannot be seen or measured. Can it? And if you stopped to ask yourself why you were emitting that or receiving that feeling, you would be hard pressed for an answer. You would be. Probably not me.

Love Songs

There was a kind of a joke, maybe one of those semi-viral facebook things, comparing a song of Justin Bieber's with an older love song in two columns where he says "oohoohbabybaby" and the other song says "I'll be there for you to share with you through laughter and through tears."
And that "Til the End of Time" song keeps running through my head. Any of us of a certain age, that would probably include 99% of the people who read THIS blog, know a song like that would never fly today. And why not? And in the TV guide there was a blurb about a Debbie Reynolds movie that was a light-hearted comedy about divorce. And that was probably in the early seventies. Yeah, I could go look, but you don't really care, and I don't want to get up and walk through three rooms, and I would forget it by the time I got back here, so just take my word.

Maybe that is why those bodice rippers are so popular now. I write about contemporary people, and I would love to give them this big huge end of time love to share with each other. But the circumstances they are in, it kind of doesn't fit. And when I do it to them, there is always something that comes along that ends up being, "Yeah, you are the big love of my life, but this and that happened and we must just move on with our lives". I know when I got married three old boyfriends showed up at the door (at different times, of course, although it would have been interesting if they all pulled up together). "Why can't it be the way it was?" Yet, none offered a tantalizing alternative or brought a white stallion with them. And two of them and a third who didn't show up at the door, called my dad over the years to see how I was doing. My dad wept over one of them.

And my thought is, and I have tended to share this idea with my daughter, which is probably not a good thing, is that they were interchangeable. And maybe there would have been rough times, but I am betting, aside from one of them shooting me dead and leaving me for the birds to pick at, nothing could have worked out as badly as some of the shit I have had to deal with in the chosen marriage.So all I could ever say to my daughter was "Yeah, he is nice looking, and you will always have financial stability". So I guess I am not romantic. Or maybe I was and now I am jaded and/or calloused. Nevertheless, why did I choose to write in the genre I have chosen? The truth is, I can only read mine. The only romance I ever read and loved was Katherine by Anya Seton which was fucking awesome, and Historically based. (John of Gaunt, poor guy. Shuttlecock) and I love to read my own work, but most other romances are too unrealistic. Maybe I am trying to rewrite my life as alternative reality. I am currently reading "Reamde" which is as far away from anything in my life as I could get. I favor police and medical procedurals, but I am lazy about the research. What I do write--I did the research. And fuck that happily ever after shit.

Reality Check

First of all: I HATE f-ing HATE typing on this new laptop and I have yet to figure out why I am torturing myself by trying to do it.

Secondly: I took down book three because I decided to make something else happen. I need a special kind of psychotherapist who specializes in the "God Syndrome".

Someone commented in a review that they wanted stuff to work out for several of my characters whose/who's lives were sort of being lived at cross purposes to one another's. (I have a real problem with the possessive pronoun here. You would too.) Even one of my more severe critics mentioned having this dilemma. I felt this way too. That is kind of why I wrote it basically. It is an extension of certain parts of my personal experience. ("It happened like this, but wouldn't it be interesting if it happened like this?")

So I made this hunky dory type story in the third book that made everything sweetness and light, peaches and cream. The HEA that I HATE in Romance books. No such thing. Anyway. I decided these people were too complex and it couldn't be that simple so I have made the book like twice as long as it was and the development was fun, and I like it. But the thing is, I was kind of idealizing this one male character, did it in book one, mentioned it in book two, and I am crazy about him. But, this new section makes him do a really ass hole thing. And I just kind of think that no matter how great a guy is, this stuff happens because of the "Y" chromosome. Fortunately my audience is predominantly female or I would probably have my house burned to the ground by now and my body dismembered in the town square. (Please put my head on a rust proof pike.) And I make him all man up-ish and come clean-ish and acceptable to the amazing female protagonist who would never fall in love with an asshole. Yeah.

And, once again, I feel like a complete whore for doing it. It is so manipulative. Okay. Here is the deal. These are fictional people, Ditty. What the fuck difference could it possibly make?

No answer. Go the fuck to sleep.

Ennui

(No, seriously.  What is with google?  The whole frigging thing just disappears?)

I do not understand how universities and colleges can create Marketing curricula.  It all seems entirely random to me.  I post just to be posting what seems kind of a run on of blather, and it receives WAAY more hits than the one's I deliberately plan and promote.  Why?

I am so sick of uploading or downloading pictures and  manuscripts and style guides, I just want to never do it again and think I never should have started this because it is like dope.  "Today I'll only take two of those and one of those.  Whoops!  They are all gone. Where did they go?  I wish I never started with them"  And looking at stats and comments is EXACTLY like counting how many xanax I have left.  At least to me.  Maybe you are healthy or something.

And checking to see if the late night or early morning flashes of literary brilliance have made it from the little orange Mickey Mouse notebook into the proper manuscript.  The last MS I uploaded was so full of errors.  Thank the powers that be that I am now a freaking expert on how to edit, search and replace and upload new versions in matters of minutes.  (Put it on your Kindle and make the notes there.)  And at least and at last, it is up, and actually sold already, but I haven't put it on Smashwords because for some ungodly reason the guide stored as individual little jpegs and it would take hours to find anything so I have to remember how I did that before so I could just keep it minimized on the desktop while I work. And I am absolutely thinking what a waste of these last few precious minutes I have on Earth and why am I not waxing floors or doing something someone might actually appreciate (what exactly would that be?) when I look and see there is a huge bump in sales.  Why?

I am absolutely at the place where I am calling the characters by the wrong name.  Or, honestly, forgetting what name I gave a character. I swore I would stop at four.  I couldn't imagine getting any more ideas to run with since I don't know where the ideas ever came from in the first place, although I am pretty sure it is because of the change in meds. But, lo and behold, or not, as you choose, there I am at two in the morning doing three or four thousand words on Jenny's first marriage. Why?

Did you ever google yourself?  Do you think that is a sick thing to do?  There are 63,000 entries under Virginia Llorca.  There is a twenty one year old girl in North Carolina named Virginia Llorca.  How the fuck could that happen?  I have stressed promoting that as my brand name cuz I thought it was so one of a kind-ish.  She's probably getting all my royalty checks.  Where else would they ALL be? 

I swear to God and the gods, if I see one mention of the word ennui in anyone's blog this week, they are gonna get it.

Hugest compliment. Hugest thank you.

Someone gets it.  How lucky I am.


Review by: Sue Leonhardt on Nov. 07, 2011 :     
I received "Lawman" by Virginia Llorca through the Goodreads ebook giveaway.Can two hearts make time for each other, with their busy lives, and make it work? This is a fast paced fun read about a young widow and a Government "operative". He tries to keep the needed secrecy of his job from interfering with his hoped for relationship with a willful young widow. Lily Scofeldt is a 24 year old widow with two preschool children living in Iowa,and agent Tim  Raia is also divorced with a 13 year old daughter living in Chicago.These people never seem to get out of bed. Lots of quickies.I laughed when Tim left her house one time and said" Thank you sincerely for the hospitality".This book is light entertainment. Easy read but it shows the deeper side of what it takes to commit to a relationship, second time around.

Nothing

I have nothing to say.  I am restless and bored and feel no interest in anything.  So just move on .  


Nothing:  I realized at some point today that there is only one reason women buy cosmetics or go on diets, or get hair cuts, or brush their teeth or work out, or go to school, or be polite, and, if any of us care to go on a rant about how we are not really shallow, really go to school and dye our hair because of our self-esteem, and that nothing and no one can cause us to ever feel that we are anything but the most  distinctive individuals and we truly have come a long way, baby, consider that this finding is based on a life-long but very casual study of and interest in anthropology, combined with various opinions and knowledge about the effect of the basic structure of DNA and the complete unchange-ability of certain genetic characteristics that form our character and therefore anchor the most basic components of civilization.  This is the reason:

I

And, personally, I feel it is also the reason we get away with being so bitchy and it is also the underlying cause of every war ever fought.  I think a high IQ, though perhaps nice,  is a stupid benchmark, representing nothing, only giving some people something to tether their opinions to, and I freely admit, and have done so here on previous occasions, I am a  very shallow, very vain person.  But there are certain laws Mother Nature put into effect for a reason, and this photo is clear illustration of one of those laws.  And I know none of you can argue with me about this. It is also the reason I write fiction.  Very enjoyable fiction. 

Just Hanging Around, Waiting. . .

Anyone thinking about it, the free give away thing is a REALLY good idea.  27 downloads in 24 hours.  Too bad they don't BUY it at that rate.  Hopefully, someone will mention it to someone, etc. . .  But it has other side effects.  Besides a bump in blog hits, I actually had someone link to this site through Smashwords.  I was kind of thinking I was wasting my time there.  So now I am all fired up.

 THANKS EVERYBODY!!!

The Spectrum of Bitterness Part Four

It is so much easier for me to write when I am ticked off.  I am trying to be reasonable and tell my self there are only 26 letters for us to use, so when I read something that I think was my idea first, I have to think about the infinite number of monkeys with the infinite number of pianos that eventually play Bach.

Then I have to tell myself that maybe that person who wrote the scene lived through something similar to what I did and had the same sort of reaction to it. I can be really fair about that one because, although I have done and lived stuff other people have not, I am by and large just your ordinary Joe Shmoe.  I am positive Joe Shmoe had some incredible high points in his life, some incredible situations that seemed troublesome and unsolvable at the time but were still the most enormously exciting parts of his life.  He just didn't bother to write about it.  And I hope that every Joe Shmoe has their "peak" to remember so they can have a little smile on their face when they are sitting in that rocker on that front porch.

I feel the need for a balance sheet, perhaps an incomplete balance sheet, but totally inspired by the passing of Steve Jobs which has definitely affected my ideas about life and death.  He left an amazing legacy.  That is all anyone can ask.  And when you are 94, you are not doing much to amplify, beautify, or in anyway, enhance your legacy except maybe making people tired of hearing about it.

MARRIAGE
Average blog writer:
"I am married to the most wonderful man.  We are still as deeply in love as the day we met, in fourth grade."
Me:
I've been married a really, really long time.

PARENTHOOD
Average blog writer.
"My amazing children are gifts from God and I adore them.  I can't imagine life without them. My husband is such a caring and amazing father."
Me:
I should have had a hysterectomy when I was thirteen.

LIFE
Average blog writer:
"I dedicate each day to the Lord knowing that no matter how things work out, I am living in His name and I can survive with His guidance."
Me;
"Jesus, cut me a break will ya?"

LIVING
Average blog writer
"That which does not kill us will only make us stronger.  God never gives us more than we can handle."
Me.
"You have to be in the right place at the right time.  You have to play the hand you are dealt."

PETS
 Average blog writer
"My dog/cats are like family to me.  I am so grateful for them and they deserve to live the best life they can. Why just today Poopsie did the most adorable thing to the back of my couch."
Me
"I am going to end up in the hospital because of this fucking animal."

Ah, me.  This is a beautiful warm, crisp Autumn day and the leaves are just starting to turn.  My autumnal decorations on my entryway are gorgeous.  The little speckle of golden glitter I placed on the leaves of the wreathes gracing my front doors is just perfect and catches the afternoon sun in the most attractive way.  I am so glad I did that.  Now I am going to lunch with two of my favorite people in the whole world, Fran and Ben. If I am lucky the adorable Delaney will be along.  So fuck the whole world.  I rock.

Left Handed Compliments

Sometimes it doesn't sink in right away, and if you get it right away, it is difficult to say "Thanks for the compliment." because, at the moment, you may not be sure that's what it is. 

I walked into Lord and Taylor and there was this outfit on the mannequin, a bright emerald green silk jacket and a fuchsia silk shell and I bought it and I got lots of compliments.  But one of them didn't sink in til much later.  I wore it a lot and never took credit for figuring it out.  Oprah says she buys what's on the mannequin, so I don't mind saying that.  It's nice though when someone says it looks good on you.  (You have to agree. ) But a year later I walk into a family event and a family member has on the outfit in slightly more subdued shades, and looks at me like "I'm glad you didn't wear that today, and, yeah, I got the idea from you."  She looked really nice in her outfit and I took it as a compliment. 

Then there are the  quickies:  In high school Mary Ann Perry asked me if I wore "falsies" (yeah, I'm that old)  and I didn't.  But I took it as a positive remark.  I had a really great figure when I was younger and yeah, I worked it.

"Do you dye your hair?"  No, I don't but if it looks like I spent money on it that's okay with me.

"Auntie Virginia doesn't look old enough to have a daughter as old as Lisa."  Well, that one is complicated, but I think it falls on the credit side of my balance sheet.   At work, my birthday, "How old are you?"  "Thirty two."  "Wow, you should wear a t-shirt that says 'I'm thirty two'.   No one will believe it."  Yeah, I worked out every day, and yeah, it was during my self-acknowledged peak years.

Ten year high school reunion:  "I wish I'd known you were going to turn out like this,"  Okay.  All these indicate I am extremely shallow and that is another thing that is a major component of my personality that I will never deny.  But I think this one is the best:

SOMEONE read my book.  It happens.  Anyway, the person commented that my characters were amoral and what made it worse was that they were parents.  (Jesus, save me.  I wish I had such clear cut parameters in my own life.)  Then it made my face feel all hot and embarrassed.  But, shucks, the book is not about the Amish and the person knew that going in.  Even wanted to know what pages the "good stuff" was on.  But, of course, given my mind, this percolated for quite a while.  And, maybe it is my tendency to try and turn a negative around, or maybe I have to rationalize criticism, but  he finished the book.  AND  he invested in MY characters and JUDGED THEM.  So I created characters.  I am basically thrilled at this point.  Well, feeling kind of warm and fuzzy about it, at the least. Anyway, I know they are not amoral, and I love them.  I think I love them even more now.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005H3EW3Q

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005KN6S4E

No, seriously?

I had to write a blurb for my second novel, you know, the one nobody reads?  And I hit send and then I noticed I called the hero TIN.  Please just take me out to the woods and shoot me.  Just get it over with.  

How can you do something like that to someone you love so much?

PROMO

Just a  reminder.  My books are available at Amazon.com for Kindle and Kindle apps.  And Sacred Sin is also now available at Smashwords.  From my stats, I see that lots of you are stopping by to view my blog and I want to thank you all for your interest and your loyalty.  I would also enjoy it very much if you left a comment of any kind.  Thanks and happy reading!

Persevere you must.

For my loyalest of followers and for those who sneak in here late at night when the kiddies are all asleep to see if I wrote a naughty word today, well I didn't.  I am filled with sweetness and light because my dog did a terrible, spiteful thing to me and I used up my daily ration of naughty words on him.  The day was cool and pleasant, and the windows were only opened a little, so they only sent one squad car this time.  We're fine, just fine.

So as to make sure that you did not waste your trip here, as I am always so glad to see you, I am presenting the current incarnation of William Wallace.  He is willing to undergo a DNA test to support this. I got Ben.  I got Delaney.  Who could ask for anything more?  Oh, me, of course.

I haven't googled Dan Kearney lately. I wonder what he is up to.  He is going to rule our country.  Soon. Ben will help.

Getting to Me

I swear!  Honest to God!

Is this not the cutest thing ever? 

What does it take to establish perspective?  The life I have, the footprint I have left, the things that will happen tomorrow that are good, the things that happened yesterday and today that are good.  (Not this frigging virus)  And I let some stranger, probably some 52 year old virgin with greasy hair living in an apartment with two cats and a litter box that needs to be changed a week ago, get to me.  Actually make that hot buzzing  behind the forehead  "symptom" of being in "trouble"  happen to me.  Actually give that poor disenfranchised  person POWER to evoke a feeling in me?  In ME?  What the fuck is wrong with me?

I am so pissed.  So very pissed.  Almost pissed enough to make that hot buzzing stop.  It is actually growing more faint as I continue to vent by causing  electronically positioned symbols to appear on a plastic screen.   Which is what I currently list WAY too high on the list of things that I consider to be my legacy.

Instead of that cute little critter on the boppy that contains my DNA. On a quilt that I made, by the way, in the house that belongs to my daughter which is a wonderful house, and a wonderful daughter that contains my DNA.

So fuck you musty lady.  Blackball me.  Smear my reputation all over Amazon with your chintzy greasy keyboard. You don't suck.  You wish you had something to suck.

NICE ! ! and not so. . .

I had my first UK sale.  This is very pleasing news for me. 

In other news, a blog I used to visit a lot, but only drop in on occasionally of late, went on and on today about a book the agency (whose blog it was that I was then gracing with my presence) LOVED and accepted joyfully and couldn't sell.  The blog author, (you can't even say 'he' or 'she' anymore or some snarkiness will show up on their site about it) was dismayed.  The agency "finally" sold this amazing story that was difficult to sell because it crossed genres.  Yup.  It was vampires, zombies, love, ghosts, paranormal stuff, probably a little Steam Punk and a Celtic God or two, along with  an amazing character study of this person that was not able to fit into any of these sub categories of living beings in the unusual world in which she was trying to survive. 

Remember when coming of age stories were about people you might sit next to in study hall?  Like S. E. Hinton's Outsiders, That Was Then, This Is Now?  I seriously wonder what all these books aimed at young adults are contributing to the person's character who happens to be reading them.  Like that Twilight series. Hotcakesl  Couldn't print them fast enough.  T-shirts.  Movies.  And there is not one person who will argue the fact that Bella was a 'Mary Sue' (google) the absolute antithesis of what a young woman in this day and age needs to emulate in her adulthood.  (This from a person who just published a book that discusses putting on a banana flavored condom with your mouth.)  Maybe I am just bitter.  Not so much anymore!  I have already earned more money in my writing 'career' than a certain MFA I know. And we are talking mere weeks into it. 


And even I throw in a Celtic God or two.

Tedium

I got LAWMAN up on Kindle.  I finished the Smashwords revisions for SACRED SIN.  I learned how to remove a text box that you don't know you have until you learn what the coding looks like and go looking for it.  I didn't put that stuff in there, man.  Blame Word.  I am getting pretty good at manipulating photos, and I suck at self promotion.  I have investigated every angle any one has mentioned and none have brought results.  Supposedly Smashwords Premium Catalog is a big deal.  They say Apple sells more ebooks than all the other epubs put together.  I totally do not see that.  They don't even make  a dedicated reader.  Whatever.  We will see.  The thing is, I am getting so tired of this.  I use any excuse to get away from it and the Maze and Anymore need a little work.  Hopefully getting back to writing will seem like fun again.

It has to be word of mouth.  It just has to be read by THAT right person, and I don't think she is interested.  Well, I like my guys.  And I will never be sorry about that part of it.  And yeah, Bobby Joe, I did leave that one word out of  the Smashwords version.  You know which one I mean.

I'm going on the treadmill.  I think I stopped the ipod  at Crossfire, so after I listen to that about eight times I will be all inspired and ready to go. 
Yeah.  You can totally tell what is happening to me.  My blogs are getting so boring

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In the Mood

Strange how things can work out so well if you are just in the mood for them.  Maybe like sex.  I don't remember.  But this publishing thing?  I can put a book on the site and actually sell them to people.  Hey, I am pretty great.  Then I notice one little thing I want to change, and I cannot even find the f-ing "Tool" bar in the word program.  C'mon.  How many times have I done this?

Sometimes my mind is like a whirlpool and the thoughts just keep swirling around and I am going deeper and deeper, but tonight my mind is a puddle of sludge on a hot day.  I do not want to probe beyond the surface and, in actual fact, I don't want to be any where near it.

The only thing that bothers me about this is that, truly, I do not want people to see my mistakes.  I know, I have seen typos in two page spread perfume ads in Vogue magazine, but damnit, I want my title page to be the best title page in the world.  And I am apparently competing with an awful lot of freaking perfectionists, because I have satisfied everyone's requirements except fucking Apple.  And they have said they sell more epub books than anyone.  Where do the people that publish for Apple live?  And where do all the people live that buy Apple epubs?  I have never heard of one of them.