Whimsilly

At the Top of my Lungs

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Thu, 18 Feb 2016 23:30:00 +0000

Reposted from June 2008

It's a good thing I have never been able to sleep in late. Even under optimal circumstances I wake up around 6:30am every day. Which isn't to say I don't enjoy trying to sleep in; an option that's been taken off the agenda since our pets joined the family. Assuming I can sleep through my husband's pre-sunrise routine (only possible when he's feeling magnanimous enough to shower and dress quietly), the kitten begins tearing around the house, which wakes up the puppy in his crate. The combination of not-to-be-ignored whining and the thumpety up-the-stairs and thumpety down-the-stairs wakes my five-year-old son, who always starts my day by belting out, "Mommy! Is it time to get up now?"

It's prophetic that my day begins with so much noise, because if I were to sum up my current existence with one word, it'd be LOUD.

I don't like loud. I didn't expect my life to be loud. In opposition to the mortifying example of my histrionic family, I consciously chose to tone down my loudness gene. I taught myself to think before I spoke, aspiring to a zen-like household, where peaceful silence would produce creative inspiration.

HA!

The disappointing truth is: I yell all the time. I holler, I bellow and let loose with staccato bursts of vitriol at the top of my lungs. My husband, the "quiet" one (unless he's getting ready in the morning), often comes in from the outdoors to inform me he heard me halfway down the block.

With such a fond desire for peace and silence, the question is raised: who am I yelling at?

Let's look at a snapshot of my day, say, the hour that has passed while I sat on the couch typing this essay on my laptop, shall we? First of all, be clear that I cannot sit in one place for an uninterrupted hour. The first disruption comes soon after I choose a title for the piece - in the form of a pleading doggy face placed on my knee. It may have started out as a silent request to go potty, but the simple act of taking the puppy across the street to the little park rarely goes smoothly.

First, my son has to find his socks and shoes, because God forbid I should attempt to leave without him, even though the entire trip *should* last only minutes. I haven't yelled yet - but I'm irritated as I wait for him to go upstairs to get a new pair of socks because he left the pair he'd worn earlier where the dog could get them and they are now unrecognizable lumps of drool-drenched cotton - and the tension builds.

He comes down wearing the oversized rubber swim shoes that he loves because they slip right on. Two seconds out the door my son trips over the shoes and does a face-plant on the front lawn. The puppy dislocates my arm to get to the downed boy before he can right himself. Much licking and biting and tangling of leash ensue. Oh, and the screaming. Don't forget the shrill sounds bleating out of my unhappy son.

Then comes my first verbal contribution, beginning with a word that you will soon become entirely familiar with. I shout, "VIPPER! OFF!"

Once the expedition has proceeded an additional hard-won ten yards to the curb, where I've trained my pooch to stop and sit for his own safety, I notice that the neighbor lady is walking her Shi-tzu. The very moment my dog catches sight of that yappy mop of a canine, he transforms into a lunging, barking, snarling, deaf-to-correction terror.

The Shi-tzu yaps viciously back as her owner silently pulls her to the far side of the park. I yell, not silently, "VIPPER! HUSH!" and place my hand firmly over his muzzle.

When the coast is clear, we look both ways and cross the street. My son bolts ahead down into a grassy depression where he skirts a muddy drainage ditch, looking over his shoulder to see if I am watching him. Before Vipper does his thing, he's distracted by, in order, a golf cart driving on the street with two dogs in back, a patch of dandelions, a bird, an elderly couple who call out that I have the best-looking dog in the neighborhood, and a school bus dropping off children.

As soon as he's done his dooky-walk, the stiff-legged step-and-poop, step-and-poop that leaves a long trail of turds for me to search for like rotten Easter eggs in the grass, I glance over at my son. Who is ankle deep in the disgusting ditch-water.

"AAAHHHH!" I burst out, a border-line scream. His head whips around and he lifts one sodden foot to make a quick exit from the scum. Trapped in slow motion horror, I see him trip over those blasted shoes and start to go down. By some miracle, he catches himself and splooshes to safety.

As my boy runs up the slope, flashing his trademark open-mouthed grin, I launch into a strident lecture that echoes through the neighborhood. I hear myself loudly question the thought process that made him decide he could get away with what he'd just done. He stops a few steps away and gleefully examines his slimy legs and feet.

When he looks up with that unabashed grin, I have to turn away to hide my instinctive smile. Only to see that my puppy is pawing playfully at the full dooky bag I'd dropped at the sight of my child wading in filth.

"VIPPER!" I yell, yanking on his leash. The bag is thankfully intact and we manage to make it back home without further ado. Until we enter the serene environment of my lovely home and I unfasten the leash. As I order my son to remove his shoes and wait for me on the porch so I can get the garden hose, the puppy has spotted the kitten, sitting temptingly on a kitchen chair.

One of my least favorite noises is the sound of Vipper's claws scrabbling across my wood floor, and he treats me to a particularly grating version of it as he shoots for the cat like a homing missile.

It's taken me weeks to get used to the idea that my tiny kitten can handle himself in a fight with the enormous puppy. In fact, the casual observer might recognize that the cat instigates the fighting a good portion of the time. Vipper fights with zeal, but is usually gentle, despite the fact that he can and does put the cat's whole head into his mouth. I'm standing on the threshold, torn between my sure-to-get-into-trouble-again-if-I-look-away son and the puppy, who has already covered the cat's entire upper body with a layer of slobber. I choose the boy and rush to hose down his legs and feet. Upon re-entering, I hear another of my *favorite* sounds: an unmistakable meow of pain.

"VIPPER!" I shout from the doorway, even though I can't see what he's doing. "Leave it!" I practically hear my voice reverberate against my neighbors' double-paned, insulated windows.

I will give it to the puppy, though. He doesn't mean to hurt the kitten. In fact, he adores that cat, and my chastisement is usually unnecessary. He appears from around the corner, head hanging sorrowfully. I enter and see the cat lounging on the table. His fur is spit-moussed up into points all over his head and his tail is twitching invitingly.

I sit for a few minutes with my laptop, but upon noticing the time, get back up to start dinner.

Soon the fish is on the counter in an aluminum foil-covered pan while the oven is pre-heating, the dog has been fed, and my son is watching an old Garfield DVD. I'm distracted by the rude, obnoxious things Garfield is saying to Jon. I study my son's profile and debate whether it will be worth it to summarily end the show just to avoid his sponge of a brain soaking up any more sass that he can use on me at a later date.

I may hate noise, but my ears are acutely attuned to it. The slightest squeak out of place and I'm actively listening. The sound I hear now is the subtle crinkle of aluminum foil. My laptop is safely set aside and I'm halfway out of my seat before the bellow of rage escapes me: "VIPPERRRRRR!"

If his stomach wasn't already bulging from his recent meal of dog food, I'm sure he would have hesitated long enough to take another quick lick of the fish I'd laid out, garnished and glazed, within easy reach of his tongue.

Instead, he tucks his stubby tail and runs full-bore for the opposite side of the kitchen island. From there he increases his short lead with a fast trot around the kitchen table and a squeeze through the space between the couch and the wall. My shouts of, "Come here!" bounce off his flapping-in-the-wind-of-his-escape ears. He's in the living room leading me around the coffee table (not for the first time, I curse the many obstacles in our home that allow him to elude me with ease), when he decides he'd better take his lumps.

I'm sure by now my brilliant dog has figured out that the longer the chase, the angrier the mommy. He stops and waits for me to grab him by the collar. I haul him to his crate and tell him to get in, which he gratefully does.

I'm still simmering, angry not at the poor puppy, but at myself for leaving food where he could get it (truth be told, I'm surprised the cat didn't beat him to it), when I hear the sound of the garage door opening.

Vipper begins to whine in anticipation of Daddy the Pushover's appearance. It's always a good idea to take the puppy out for a pre-Daddy pee and to stash him in the crate before Daddy comes home. We've almost got the potty issues under control, but the excitement of seeing Daddy triggers the sprinkler every time.

My husband comes in and gives me an annoyed look.

"What?" I ask, bursting with the need to tell him all that I've endured today.

"I had the window of the truck down, and heard you yelling at Vipper from halfway down the street," he says.

He lets the dog out of the crate and suffers through the usual spastic greeting, which gets more and more frenetic as my husband gently entreats the dog to stop. Vipper is standing on his back legs, clawing at my husband's thighs and nipping at his hands when I can't take it anymore.

"VIPPER! OFF!" I say loudly. The dog places all four paws on the floor and looks up at my husband adoringly. The lesson is lost on my better half, who gives me another disgusted look and asks, "What's for dinner?"

"Ask him," I say, gesturing to the dog.

The Warrior Princess Workout

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Fri, 29 Jan 2016 20:11:00 +0000

.
Driving down the road, you fantasize about spending your lottery winnings. In the shower, you have a flirtatious conversation with a hot movie star. Of course, in your mind you're never a flabby middle-aged woman in desperate need of a grey touchup. You are a Warrior Princess with rock hard abs and not a dimple of cellulite. You'd like nothing more than to trade your mundane existence in for a more exciting life, a more exciting you. These days are usually prompted by

Hormones – it comes and goes every month: those periods of such intense yearning that nothing will fill the hole in your soul but watching back-to-back Jane Austen movies or locking yourself away to drool over steamy pirate novels. When that hormonal cocktail is at its peak, you rediscover your old nemesis

Motivation – that which gets you off your duff and makes you think, for a time at least, that you can do anything you set your mind to. You are now Determined (with a capital D!) to take on the world. And the first thing you need to do is wrest back control of your body. You can't be a Warrior Princess if you look like the Pillsbury Doughboy's main squeeze, so you break out the hand weights and pop in a workout DVD. Fueled by hormonal urges, you are on fire…until you're sidelined by

Physical limitations – the vicious circle of soreness that hits after every workout. That nagging reoccurring pain in your shoulder, Achilles tendon or hip. Pain sets in for the duration – you find it hard to sleep, leading to

Exhaustion – that horrible, headachy feeling, like some psychic vampire sucked out all your energy and left you a mere husk trying to live your life. Getting off the couch is restricted to daily living; the simplest chores feel like you're climbing Mount Everest and just the thought of working out makes you want to dig your own grave and take a nap in it. It's now up to

Mind over matter – an elusive force, slippery as a buttered eel. It takes a monumental effort to get moving, but you still recall how it felt last week when you were in the yearning phase. You remind yourself that phase will return - and you don't want to start all over again, do you? But real life is quite rudely intruding on the fantasy and you're having trouble imagining the

Payoff – will it be worth it that your husband (whose beer belly rivals the pregnant lady next door) will find you more attractive? Is it enough that family, friends and neighbors will notice the new you? Does the prospect of living longer with your newfound health make you happy – or do you cringe at the thought of your workouts being

Endless. My God, have I only been on this friggin' treadmill for ten minutes? Ow…ow…what now? Feels like my knee is about to pop out of the socket! Okay, I think it's time for

Excuses – the opposite of motivation. You worked out hard all week like a good girl, so you deserve a break. And a hot fudge sundae…yeah…calories be damned! During the intense chocolate buzz that follows, you are truly happy for the first time in weeks. But it's doomed to be short-lived. You recognize that this is the first of many upcoming excuses which will disrupt your Warrior Princess goal…but you can no longer be bothered to care because now you're dealing with

PMS – we all get it in one form or another, whether we admit it or not. It heavily influences your powers of concentration, and just acting like a normal human being feels like an accomplishment. Especially since all you want to do is devour the contents of the refrigerator and kill everyone and everything that vexes you, most notably anyone who actually resembles a Warrior Princess. You glance over at your hand weights with deep, heartfelt contempt, pleased when you muster enough self-control not to hurl them through the bedroom window. PMS sheds bright halogen lights on

Reality – that which is impossible to ignore on a consistent basis. These are the imagination's darkest days, when fantasy's influence is on the wane. Power through! – is your battle-cry. And you do, because you have to. Then one day while driving to the grocery store it suddenly occurs to you that if you did win the lottery, you'd be mingling with the rich and famous. Best to get a jump on the body you'll need to pull it off. Time to get cracking on that

Warrior Princess workout.

Gifted or ADHD? The Surprising Truth

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Fri, 16 Oct 2015 17:06:00 +0000

(Reposted from six years ago, but still relevant today)

If you think back over your childhood, your adolescence, your school years and the transition to adult-hood with fond memories, then this blog post is probably not for you. If you consider your personality to be mainstream; if you were woven seamlessly into the acceptable fabrics of society—the cottons, the denims, the silks, the cashmeres—then this blog post will only give you a little insight, a glimpse perhaps, into the inner weavings of the duck-cloths, the meshes, the lamés and the spandexes of the world.

I was one such misfit. I was smart, a borderline genius (which is not to brag, I would have preferred street smarts to book any day had I only known), but school bored me. I guess I was an atypical nerd, if such a thing is possible. I acknowledge I had an advantage in that I wasn’t exactly ugly and I was pretty athletic, but those pluses were mostly zeroed out by my underdeveloped social skills and overdeveloped intellect. Who wanted to hang out with the weird skinny blonde kid in hand-me-down clothes who always had her nose buried in a book or who hung out in the art room at lunch? Not very many of my peers, I can tell you that. Add to that a deep-seated naiveté that lingered into my late twenties, and you’ve got my particular brand of misfit.

So when I had kids of my own and started seeing reflections of my own miserable childhood, I did my best to help. My daughter grew up brilliant and beautiful, but just as much a social pariah as me. Did I fail? I wondered. What could I have done to prevent her pain? And wouldn’t that just make her a different person than she is now—didn’t she grow into one tough cookie who makes me proud? So what if she wasn’t a cheerleader? She was self-assured enough not to WANT to be one, unlike me. She grew up just fine, thank you very much. Her intolerant peers, the aggressive gangs of girls and boys that ran unchecked through her school and made her academic career a living hell, also made her strong.

Now my son, fifteen years younger than his sister, has burst onto the school scene with a whole different dynamic. Since preschool I’ve been scrambling to avoid the ADHD label. He’s a bizzy, bizzy boy and some days I despair of him, just, getting it. In preschool: No, my dear son, it is not acceptable for you to throw your shoes over the fence so you can watch the teacher fetch them for you, nor is peeing in the drain in the bathroom floor instead of the toilet amusing to anyone but you (well, okay, I confess that one still makes me chuckle in private). In kindergarten: Yes, my dear boy, t-ball can be a boring sport, but while you wait for the ball to come, would it kill you to just stand there instead of spinning around until you fall, pulling out tufts of grass, wearing your mitt on your head or kicking up dust clouds in the dirt?

Now he’s in the first grade. Two weeks in and we’ve already met with the principal, who didn’t come right out and SAY he thought my son had ADHD, but who gave a rather pointed example of his OWN struggle with it as a child. However, after what I went through and what I went through for my daughter, I was more prepared to be an advocate for my son. I had graphs, I had charts and I had excerpts from books written by experts. In fact, after the meeting, the principal sent me an email reiterating what he’d already told me: he’d never had a parent arrive at a meeting more prepared than I.

The reason I showed up armed to the teeth with information isn’t complicated. I won’t allow the establishment—the school system or the medical community—to label my son. Stamp four humiliating letters on his forehead, shove stimulants down his throat, and shunt him to the classes reserved for those who refuse, because they can’t help it, to cooperate. The disrupters, the clowns, the bizzy, bizzy bees.

I wasn’t just going into that meeting bristling with denial. No sir, I had a different theory, a theory both more palatable and more logical. My six-year-old reads at a third-grade level, or higher. When he was two, he could put a 100-piece puzzle together, no problem. If you can look past the fact that he never stops talking, to himself mostly, his vocabulary is astonishing. So aren’t ADHD kids kind of, I don’t know, dumb? I thought. What if you’ve got a combination smartie-pants-ants-in-your-pants? A bright kid who just can’t hold still, can’t seem to rein in his enthusiasm, be it for bugs or books or barreling around all over the place?

Enter my indomitable research capabilities. I’m a writer; I do this for a living (albeit a pre-successful living). Poor my memory may be, but I still have a fount of information to draw upon; information about this, that and the other thing obtained via books and the Internet for the sole purpose of giving my writing authenticity. Could there be another reason why I and my children (and various other members of my immediate family) are so darn smart and yet so exasperatingly…different?

It didn’t take me long to find the answer: an unqualified YES.

Kasimierz Dabrowski, a Polish psychiatrist from the early nineteenth-century glory days of psychiatry, developed a concept after years of observation, research and study, that gifted children experience a phenomenon that he termed, “Overexcitabilities.” Gifted children, according to Dabrowski, aren’t just smart, they FEEL more than other kids. They are more sensitive, they respond more to stimuli, they are intensely passionate in ways that normal folks can’t always understand. He broke these overexcitabilities into five categories: Intellectual, where a child might be driven to solve problems, Imaginational, where the world is a child’s stage, Emotional, where the child carries the world’s problems on his/her shoulders, Sensual, where sight, sound, smell, taste and tactile sensations are overpowering to the child, and Psychomotor, where the child has so much energy, such a need to wiggle, jump, run, spin, do, do, do, that they are often misdiagnosed (yes, I said it, and I truly believe it) as ADHD.

A gifted child may experience one or all of the overexcitabilities. Not a disease or disorder that needs to be medicated into oblivion, but a sensory enhancement that causes a child to experience the world differently, sometimes radically so, from his/her peers.

(My personal tongue-in-cheek theory is that in order for the brains of intelligent people to get smart in the first place, something happens in the womb, maybe the developing frontal and parietal lobes needed more oomph, so they steal some essential neurons that would otherwise be used to foster communication between the areas of the brain that enable social interaction…but I digress, as I often do.)

Clues to my son’s particular overexcitabilities were not hard to find. As a baby, he gasped for breath if you blew into his face; as an infant, he refused to put his feet on the grass; bright sunlight makes him sneeze; and I had to cut all the tags out of every shirt he owns—Sensual. My boy is impulsive, he’ll take action so quickly he doesn’t leave himself time to filter the potential consequences through his brain; he is incapable of preventing his body from showing his emotions—he jumps up and down, hands flapping uncontrollably when he’s excited; he absolutely loves to laugh, but once he gets started, it’s hard for him to stop—psychomotor. I hear some kids outgrow the constant questions, but my son’s motto is like a drumbeat in the background of our lives, “Who-what-where-when-why-how?”—Intellectual. And the drama! Sheesh, the kid won’t quit with the stories and the wild scenarios and the intentional fibs to see what will happen—Imaginational.

Yep, I reckon he’s got four of the five, but I’m just grateful to have avoided the Emotional category. I got more than enough of THAT from my daughter!

So.

If any of this resonated with you, I recommend you read “A Parent’s Guide to Gifted Children,” which was a real eye-opener for me. This is a book written by today’s professionals, not the same folks who learned in medical school back in the 80’s and 90’s to prescribe mind-numbing medication, but the cutting-edge researchers who tend to shun Big Pharma’s answer to the ADHD crisis. One-pill-fits-all is not a given if you have a bizzy bizzy child of your own, especially if your kid is smarter than your average bear.

Yes, even today’s experts admit it’s possible, though significantly less likely, for a child to be both gifted AND to have ADHD or some other learning disorder, and sometimes the disorder can even mask the giftedness, like dyslexia. No matter what combination of wonderful your child is, be the best advocate for him/her that you can by educating yourself. Don’t let anyone label your child without a thorough evaluation—and you should learn what that entails, too!

I now think of myself and my children not as patched together from misfit fabrics like some quirky quilt, but cut from the colorful and complicated brocades, damasks and tapestries that make life such a diverse experience. I found the tools to aid my son as he works at developing the necessary skills to blend into his school environment: patience, persistence, understanding and most of all, knowledge.

On a Quest for the Mythical Tipping Point

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Tue, 30 Dec 2014 01:47:00 +0000

I think my last blog post was unconsciously in preparation for this one, because in it I discussed some of the difficulties I've wrestled with in regards to advertising, and it set the stage for me to reveal what I've been doing instead of writing.

I've been rather fixated in the last several years on finding that magical, mythical tipping point, where my work slides from obscurity into at least a modicum of success. If you don’t factor in a marketing budget, authors (indie and tradpub alike) have pretty much the same options, a tried-and-true formula. If you haven’t seen my tongue-in-cheek video on the hoops we jump through to get attention for our books, the link is here. That video, as goofy as it is, was the first thing, of all the things I tried, that put me on the map, which is how I realized sticking to the same old formula wouldn't lift me above the crowd.

I decided to do something different, but do it so well people would be impressed enough to like or share it (without me having to beg them to). So for the last couple of years, I've been working on a fresh new book trailer for the Xenofreak Nation series – but in the style of a movie trailer. I hope I've come close to achieving my goal (because there’s nothing like putting your heart and soul into something that thuds onto the scene).

In the event anyone would like to know how I made it, well, my methodology and resources are way too long to list here, but I’ll narrow it down to the basics:

DAZ Studio – free 3D software. Talented digital artists create the content to use within the software. That content is not free, but over time, you can build up a healthy library of figures, hair, clothes, props, scenes, lights and much more. The learning curve to produce something decent is steep, but as far as DIY 3D goes, it’s the best and cheapest option out there.

Digital Juice – royalty-free graphics, animation, stock footage and music. This is a subscription service, but the cost vs. what you get is a good deal, especially if you’re a video editor.

Adobe Premiere Elements – this is the downgraded version of Adobe’s movie making software, but it has all the features you need at an affordable price.

Adobe Photoshop Elements – same as the above except this is their picture editor.

So, with no further ado:

Where’s the Sequel? and Advertising Woes

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Sun, 28 Dec 2014 00:08:00 +0000

So.

It’s difficult for an OCD-type such as myself to admit it, but I’m late again. I had intended to have written and released the third book in The Gossamer Sphere series by now, but I’ve only just begun writing it. For those readers waiting, I humbly apologize. It WILL come out eventually.

Why have I dropped the ball? Well, I have some pretty compelling personal reasons, but since I’ve mostly outgrown the over-sharing tendencies of my youth, I won’t trot those out. Instead, I thought I’d ramble on a bit about advertising and how it has affected me, as a writer who enjoys the occasional meal of Top Ramen but prefers not to subsist off of it.

First off, Captain Obvious is tapping me on the shoulder. He’d like to point out that nothing is free, especially not advertising.

Not anymore.

Not long ago, Facebook was free. I created my Author Page there, a happy little place where I could blithely update my fans on upcoming releases, etc. In hindsight, those were the good old days. It was a truly good time to be online. But then Facebook decided to limit what posts our fans saw unless we paid to promote them. That, too, was okay, because I knew my fans could always pop over to my page if they wanted to know the latest.

Now Facebook is rumored to be planning further monetization changes that will restrict or ban entirely anything they deem to be advertising. So my fans will have no way of knowing what I’m up to. Unless, of course, I pay for it.

Something to look forward to in 2015, apparently.

Anyhoo, advertising:

If I want my books to sell, I have to invest more than just the usual blood/sweat/tantrums of the actual writing/editing/formatting process. That’s right, I need to market them. I’ve blogged about this before, ad nauseam. Since I’m only one person, blahblahblah, with limited capacity to market my work online, blahblahblah, I have to pay someone to advertise for me.

The process sounds cut and dried (payment for service), but it really isn’t.

In the real world, a business pays to have an advertisement placed in a publication, whether it be a physical paper or online webzine. Unless that business is offensive to the publication (like, say, a brothel attempting to advertise in a religious journal), the deal is likely to go through. In Indie Author Land, not so simple a matter. Because even though we are each of us individual small-business-persons, we are collectively lumped together.

And, as it happens, some find our lump offensive.

I’ll use, for example, a new business model that developed on the heels of the ereader/ebook explosion: the Discount Mailing List. Here’s how it works: Publishers and Authors pay to be included in a daily email that goes out to a mailing list bursting with eager Readers. The books in question must be steeply discounted or free to be included. More on this later.

So here we have these (shrewd, shrewd) Discount Mailing List entrepreneurs whose businesses were at least in part built on the backs of indie authors. Say what? Well, I won’t go so far as to suggest they lured us in with a classic bait and switch, but we indies wanted our books to be included, so we signed up in droves, plumping up their mailing lists. At some point they got enough Readers to attract the attention of the big boys, traditional publishing (tradpub).

Once tradpub was on board, the crafty Discount Mailing List folks could pick and choose who they offered their service to. Indie authors, in general, were no longer good enough for their discerning Readers. Bookbub, for instance, accepts or rejects a book based on their “editorial team’s” determination of worthiness. Do they actually read it? No, silly, they don’t have time for that business, nor do they have time to explain why you were rejected. However, since they have your email address, you’re welcome to console yourself perusing the daily list of books that were worthy.

If you’re lucky enough to get accepted, however, Discount Mailing Lists are effective, even though you’ll be forced to steeply discount your book, or even give it away for free in order to use the service.

Wait a minute! Did I not just claim above in this very essay that nothing is free?

My mistake.

Because my work has been free on multiple occasions. I have no choice; the competition for Readers is fierce. Authors, indie and otherwise, are in a constant elbow fight, jostling for space on the Amazon lists, one of the only places where we can be SEEN. In the case of the indie, our best chance of getting on those lists is to give our product away for free, and to exhaustively advertise the event. It’s ironic that we literally have to pay Readers to take our work. But if they like the free sample, they just might come back for more, and that’s why we do it.

Certainly not because we’re making money hand over fist at this writing lark.

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say the vast majority of indie authors, if you were to calculate payment for hours worked, bring in well below the minimum wage. Personally, on my best sales year, had it been my only income, I would have been forced to beg on the street to feed and house my family. And I know several indie authors – really good writers, mind you – who envied me that sales income.

This negative return on investment tends to wear a writer down, but I won’t quit. I’ll try to keep my sense of humor intact and resist bemoaning the futility of it all. It might take longer for me to work up the old enthusiasm, but at the very least I’ll finish The Gossamer Sphere.

Not for the money, but for my fans.

Because they rock.

Win Signed Copies of Books I, II, and III of Xenofreak Nation!

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Fri, 05 Sep 2014 03:18:00 +0000

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Xbestia

by Melissa Conway

Giveaway ends October 04, 2014.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Judging a Book by its Cover, A Cautionary Tale

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Thu, 17 Oct 2013 20:59:00 +0000

Several months ago, I entered SelfSame in the Writer's Digest 21st Annual Self-Published Book Awards in the Middle-Grade/Young Adult category. Winners were announced this week; I'm disappointed to say I wasn't one of them, but I was sent my scores and the judge's commentary.

In the scoring criteria, SelfSame was given 5 out of 5 points for Structure and Organization, 5 out of 5 points for Grammar, 5 out of 5 points for Plot, and 5 out of 5 points for Character Development.

The Judge's Commentary was a flat-out rave:

"This was another of my top favorites! It was very hard to choose this year. I was captivated by this story of Enid and Sorcha, 2 halves of the same soul. One in 1764 and the other in today's world, two centuries later. It was a fascinating novel. I loved all the historical facts in Enid's story. I loved that they knew about each other all along. I loved that their grandmothers excepted [sic] all of this.

"The writing was spot on. The characters, in both time periods, felt real and were interesting. The pace was even and kept me engaged. I loved the way Melissa Conway wove the story with each chapter going back and forth between the girls. And I am a romantic, so I loved the ending!

"I think YA girls will eat this story up! I will add this to my library and be happy to encourage my readers to pick it up."

So why didn't it win?

Well, the judge gave me a score of 3 out of 5 for Production Quality and Cover Design. That's right. She said: "The only place that I can see improvement is the cover. I get it after reading the book, but nothing about this cover would entice a reader to pick it up and delve in to it."

While I'm thrilled she liked the content, Judge 52's disdain for my cover really cost me. Any indie authors out there thinking about entering the Writer's Digest Annual Self-Published Book Awards, please be aware that your cover WILL be judged. As it is judged by all your readers, despite the old adage that they shouldn't. ;-)

Modesty and the Indie Author

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 21:59:00 +0000

I once had a job at a retail clothing store. It lasted six weeks before I could no longer force myself to, well, force myself upon people. The manager of the store was always hovering over me, urging me to make myself indispensable to the customers. In my mind, the best way to do that was to greet them, let them know I was available if they needed anything, and then get the heck out of their way. But the manager wanted me to strike up a conversation and begin suggesting clothing items. I was supposed to spew flattery and steamroll over any protestations that they didn’t need my help.

It was far from my dream job and I ended up quitting before I got fired. Sales has never been my thing; I’m painfully shy when it comes to approaching people I don’t know. I don’t like it when a salesperson gets in my face, so why would I do it to other people?

Imagine my dismay upon discovering that being a successful indie author requires not just having the sales skills to effectively market myself and my work, but using them, blatantly and often. Indie authors must somehow gain a following. It’s not enough for us to write a good book, we have to inspire our readers to help us, to spread the word for us, because most of us can’t afford to pay for advertising.

It’s called ‘marketing,’ and for those of us with deeply ingrained modesty, it’s a nightmare. I’m supposed to be on Twitter, constantly tweeting about my books. I’m supposed to be on Facebook, constantly posting about...yeah, you get the picture.

The thing is: I’m grateful to every single person who’s not only read my work, but taken the time to go to my Facebook Author page and click LIKE. I’m beyond thrilled every time I get a review on Amazon or Goodreads or LibraryThing, or a tweet from someone begging me to write faster because they are dying to read the next book in the series.

I don’t want to repay them by filling their inboxes with spam.

There’s no question that I’m shooting myself in the foot by not taking advantage. Thing is, how am I supposed to interact with my fans when I can’t even comfortably call them that? They’re just people who happen to like something I wrote. And I’m just a writer who seems doomed to fade into obscurity because I cringe away from putting myself out there.

I’m exceedingly lucky to be able to write my books. Note that I didn’t say ‘write my books for a living.’ I’d have to be a salesperson for that to happen.

Yet another post On Book Reviews (as they apply to Indie Authors)

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 00:27:00 +0000

Opinion [uh pin yuhn] a belief or judgment that rests on grounds insufficient to produce complete certainty. A personal view, attitude or appraisal.

Subjective [suh b jek tiv] existing in the mind; belonging to the thinking subject rather than to the object of thought. Pertaining to or characteristic of an individual; personal; individual: a subjective evaluation.

All opinions are valid except for the fact that they are also subjective.

On the surface in this day and age there are two main ways of choosing a book: by browsing a physical book store or online retailer, or hearing about it through a book recommendation site (word of mouth).

Browsing might feel like you’re asserting your own will in picking out a book, but the reality is, finding one is rarely a happy accident. At the bookstore, the prominently-placed books are more likely to catch your eye – if you don’t see a book facing spine-out on the bottom shelf, you’re less likely to find it. This visibility principle applies to online stores as well. Those books high up on popularity lists are more likely to sell. But how do they get there?

In a word: Hype [exaggerated publicity; hoopla].

We all know what hype is, but I wonder how often we consider that its pervasiveness gives it a sort of credibility. Behind every blockbuster you will find a focused marketing team and a coffer full of advertising dollars. A book you may have initially dismissed as uninteresting will begin to look better and better under a constant barrage of hype. It influences us whether we are aware of it or not; that is the nature of being repeatedly exposed to something – it becomes familiar, and spurs us to find out for ourselves what all the fuss is about.

What has this got to do with book reviews and indie authors? Well...indie authors don’t have the benefit or even the option to use hype to promote our books. To use a couple of arguably clichéd but apt phrases, an indie author’s only hope is to create ‘the perfect storm,’ of publicity using what limited resources s/he has available to them; in effect, setting in motion that nebulous confluence of circumstances leading to the mythical ‘tipping point.’

Without paid-for hype, we have only one method at our disposal to get the attention we need to sell our product: book reviews.

I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: it is common practice for Big Name authors to review each other’s work. They place gushing quotes from their peers on their book jackets, and use them in their advertisements. When indie authors review each other, however, the practice is considered suspect – even though it’s the exact same tit-for-tat behavior coming from the Big Names. I can only attribute this to public perception of authenticity: the Big Names are officially vetted by professionals, whereas everyone knows indie authors were rejected by those same professionals, making them desperate and willing to lie for each other to sell a few books.

Now, of course it’s an exaggeration to lump all indie authors together in such a stereotypical manner, but there you have it. I happen to be acquainted with dozens of indie authors whose integrity would never allow them to stoop to underhanded methods, but I also know a few who, like the child who considers any attention better than no attention, will resort to bad behavior to get ahead.

Avid readers are the target, because they will have already plowed through the blockbusters and tend to dig deeper, browse further, take more chances to find a good book. If they stumble upon an indie book (unlikely), or deliberately seek them out (due to affordability), the first thing they see is the overall star rating (I’m using Amazon in this example, but most [all?] online book retailers use a similar rating model). After the star rating, they check to see how many ratings the book has gotten. If the book’s overall rating is a glowing 5-stars with very few customers having rated it, they might move on. Why? The most obvious reason is s/he might assume a book no one has reviewed is a book no one has read. S/he might also jump to the conclusion that it is a book no one wants to read. It’s also possible our avid reader is aware of the well-known ‘fact’ that the first several reviews on any given indie book are written by friends, family and peers.

Next, s/he reads the blurb. If it’s intriguing enough, s/he will then move on to the reviews, or, if s/he is that rare creature who doesn’t let a stranger’s opinion influence him/her, s/he will read the sample – the first 20% or so of the book. Reading the sample is the best way to evaluate quality of writing and the author’s ability to ‘suck you in.’ But for the purposes of this post, we’ll say this potential customer peruses the reviews.

What will s/he find? A veritable mish-mash of subjectivity with so many potential factors it would be impossible to list them all, but I've identified some of the more colorful types, from an author’s tongue-in-cheek point of view. Assuming the book is not riddled with spelling and grammar errors, these are the kinds of reviewers you will find:

The Family-member. Despite what our naysayers might think, a Family-member is the least likely person of the average indie author’s acquaintance to write a review of our books. This is because very few of our nearest and dearest can be bothered to read them. I’ll use myself as an example: I have five self-published books under the name Melissa Conway with a total, as of this writing, of 103 reviews on Amazon. Not one of those reviews is from a family member. However, when an author’s Family-member does venture to post a review, the result is usually easy to spot. Delirious praise from someone with the same last name as the author is merely cringe-worthy.

The Friend. Way more likely to not only read the author’s book than a Family member, but to review it. Always 5-stars, always a Rave. This is not to say the opinion isn’t sincere, but the simple fact that the Friend knows someone who wrote an actual book can often influence their review more than their opinion of the story/writing. Now, keep in mind that the average author is probably an introvert who doesn’t have many actual friends, so there won’t be an abundance of these reviews. Also, subsequent books by this author are likely to have few, if any, Friend reviews, for the simple reason that the more familiar an author becomes with the ins-and-outs of marketing his/her books, the less likely it is they will want a Friend review casting doubt on them.

The Peer. There is nothing an author holds in higher esteem than the Peer. They are other writers/authors who have quite likely also developed an online friendship with the author. The Peer review will focus on the positive, but will not always be 5-stars. The Peer thinks the author is at least an adequate writer, and often s/he was a beta-reader and/or editor of the book in question. Peer reviews are generally honest because the Peer wants to avoid the appearance of impropriety, which will reflect negatively on their own career. Often, Peers will identify themselves with a qualifier, such as, ‘I am acquainted with the author through social networking.”

The Drive-by. These are low-star-rating-givers more likely to haunt reader sites like Goodreads where the reviewer doesn’t have to give a written opinion. Often, but not always, the Drive-by has just created an account and the book in question was one of many s/he rated upon first joining. If you look at the other books the Drive-by has given low stars to, you will find many beloved classics. If you look at the Drive-by reviewer’s profile, it probably doesn’t have a picture or any personal details and will show that their last activity was on the same day they joined.

The One-and-Only. These reviewers claim to have been so negatively affected by the book they have broken out of lurk mode to post their first ever review with the sole objective of warning other readers.

The Spurt. This reviewer is similar to the One-and-Only, but instead of just one review, has written a ton of them all on the same day, including an unflattering one of the book in question. The reviews in this cluster are all short, and seemingly honest.

The Shill. This reviewer gives out 5-stars or 1-stars with the express purpose of pumping up one book while taking its competitor down. I know the Shill exists because I’ve read a lot about them lately; how some authors hire people to do this, or make multiple fake accounts to do it themselves. I have no idea how to recognize a Shill’s review because it might look like a Rave or a One-and-Only or a Troll; conversely, the Rave or One-and-Only or Troll, might in reality be a Shill.

The Troll. This reviewer seems to really have it out for the author. Often the review is accompanied by claims that the writing was so bad s/he could only get through a few chapters. The Troll always uses a pseudonym (usually one innocent-sounding name like ‘Jennifer’) with no profile information. They have plenty of reviews over a convincing period of time, but most of them are negative. Trolls relish trash talk and will go to the trouble of posting the same scathing review on multiple review sites.

The Blogger. A reviewer that identifies him/herself as a book blogger can almost always be counted on NOT to be a Shill. They have often been solicited by the author in exchange for a free copy of the book, but this won’t influence their opinion of it. The majority of Bloggers focus on the positive aspects of every book they read and many won’t post a review of a book they didn’t like. On the other hand, and especially if the Blogger is using a pseudonym, they can be unapologetically blunt and difficult to please. Some authors seek the difficult Bloggers out in particular in the hopes that their book does please them.

The Rave. I’ve lurked enough on Amazon’s Customer Discussion boards to have a good idea what kind of reviews seem suspicious (a positive Shill review). Unfortunately for those of us who have gotten authentic reviews that include lots of ALL CAPS enthusiasm and liberal use of exclamation points, these are at the top of the ‘yeah, right’ list. Phrases like IT WAS AMAZING!!! and BEST!! BOOK!! EVER!! will generally garner skepticism whether the sentiment was genuine or not, especially if the reviewer doesn’t point out specifics in the story. Sometimes the Rave will add a caveat that they saw all the 5-star reviews but didn’t believe them until they read the book. This is an indication that the Rave is genuine.

The Editor. This is the low-star kind of review written by someone who is obviously another writer, or worse, a wannabe. The Editor usually thinks the book’s premise was intriguing, but the writing lacked (insert favorite writing ‘rule’ of choice here). These reviews are almost always written under a pseudonym and are most likely to send the author into a tailspin of paranoia. Since it’s obvious the Editor is a fellow writer, the author may wonder, with all the nonsense going on (see Shills), whether this is a competitor or even if they actually *know* this person. (As an aside, you can find out the real name of any given account holder on Amazon who has a baby registry and sometimes a wish list.)

The Freebie. People don’t tend to read outside their comfort zone. The Freebie knows what s/he likes, but being a shrewd and frugal reader, takes advantage of the temporarily free ebooks on Amazon. The Freebie may not understand (or care) why those books have been made free. They may not know the author is attempting to give away as many as possible so the book will rise to the top of the ‘free’ charts and get much-needed exposure. This has been one of the few reliable ways to make our work known, but it has its (sometimes severe) downsides. First, savvy Freebies are aware that an ebook in Amazon’s KDP Select program will likely become free in the future, so they pass on purchasing it. Second, Freebies are less likely to select a free book based on whether they actually want to read it. This wouldn’t be a problem if they didn’t also have the ability to review it. Even the honest Freebies who put a disclaimer in their review such as, “I don’t normally read this genre, but it was free, so...” have still brought the author’s overall star rating down if they review it negatively.

In the end, despite lumping reviews and reviewers into groups that make the worst of them easier to swallow, I believe subjectivity rules – and comforts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve repeated the phrase, “You can’t please everyone.” When an incomprehensible review is suddenly stinking up one of my book pages, I take it on the chin and vent in private to those I trust. It would never occur to me to confront the reviewer, even if the review reeks of Shill – and even if I only imagine it does.

Reviews are all we got. Those of us lucky enough to acquire enough of them, good, bad or ugly, might even generate a little Hype.

READ THE SAMPLE

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Thu, 06 Sep 2012 20:10:00 +0000

It gets busy at Costco during the lunch hour on any given day because they give out samples of various food products. Samples help me decide whether to purchase a product. Oftentimes, if I like the sample, I’ll try the product.

But what if I got the opportunity to sample something and chose not to because it came highly recommended?

Or I didn’t want to take the time to sample it, and only purchased it because it was on sale?

Would I be justified in feeling duped if this product I didn’t bother to sample fell short of my expectations?

Books and ebooks are one of the few products a consumer can sample beforehand. In a bookstore, you can stand there and read as much as you’d like. Online, you can generally read a percentage of an ebook, up to as much as the first 20%, to help you make your decision.

There’s been a lot of media coverage recently about book reviews. Any given review on any given book, whether the book was written by a traditionally published author or an indie, can be faked. A fake review will generally either sing the book’s praises or trash it. That’s not to say all five-star and one-star ratings are not to be trusted, but who has the time to investigate their veracity?

Further, even if you know a recommendation or condemnation is honest, you still have to take into consideration that it is one person’s opinion. Opinions are subjective. Even an honest appraisal of a product can be biased - or I should say willbe biased based on that person’s likes and dislikes, which may be the polar opposite of yours whether you admire that person, hate them with a passion, or don’t know them at all. And sometimes an honest appraisal comes from someone who had the opportunity to sample, but didn’t, often because they got the ebook for free. The opinion is perfectly valid, but would that person have even chosen the book if it weren’t free?

My time is precious. I’d rather use it reading the sample, and let the product convince me whether or not to buy. Then if it doesn’t live up to my expectations, I’ll feel perfectly justified in giving my opinion.

Read the sample.

THE DEVIL WENT ONLINE TO AMAZON

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Tue, 04 Sep 2012 01:04:00 +0000

Sung to the tune of

"The Devil Went Down To Georgia"

The Devil went online to Amazon. He was lookin’ for a book to read.

He was in a funk ‘cause all he found was junk. There was nothin’ but chicken feed.
When he came across an indie author, writin’ ebooks and sellin’ ‘em - not,
And the Devil posted on the Internet, and said, “Scribe, you ain’t makin’ squat.”

"I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a published author, too.

And if you’d care to be aware, I’ll share trade secrets with you.
Now you spin a pretty good yarn there, Scribe, but give the system its due.
I’ll bet a book deal of gold against your soul I can sell more books than you.”

The indie said, "I’m an Author, and it might be a sin,

But I’ll take that bet; ‘cause I don’t want to regret that I’d do anything to win.”

Author, sharpen up your pen and write that novel hard,

‘Cause the trolls are loose on Amazon, and reviewers deal the cards,
And if you win you get this shiny book deal from trad-pub,
But if you lose - welcome to the club!

The Devil conjured up his fakes and he said, "Five-star reviews."

And lies spewed from his sock-puppets as his readership grew.
And he bought a thousand paid raves and smiled in entrepreneurial bliss.
And a band of wannabes joined in and didn’t sense anything amiss.

When the Devil wrapped up, Author said, "Well, you're pretty corrupt ol' son,

But sit down in that forum right there and let me message you how it's done."

"Fraud in the book world." Run, boys, run!

Devil's in the publishing house of the rising sun;
Public found out and he’s eatin’ crow.
Author, does your book suck? No, reader, no.

The Devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat.

And he sent that golden book deal to the box on Author’s street.
Author said, "Devil, just come on back if you can’t stop bein’ a crook,
'Cause I've told you once--you son of a hack--it’s the sample that sells the book."

And he wrote:

"Fraud in the book world." Run, boys, run!

Devil's in the publishing house of the rising sun;
Public found out and he’s eatin’ crow.
Author, does your book suck? No, reader, no.
.

Now an official Award Winner!

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 00:55:00 +0000

There's a new addition to the cover of Xenofreak Nation: the WINNER sticker from the 2012 Global Ebook Awards! I'm happy to report it won the top prize in its category: Speculative Fiction - Science Fiction.

In other news, I'm heading into the home stretch on the sequel, titled Xenofreak Nation Book Two: Mad Eye. Tentatively scheduled for publication early this fall! Like me on my Facebook Author page to get updates:

https://www.facebook.com/MelissaConwayAuthor?ref=hl

Liebster Blog 'Award'

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Tue, 26 Jun 2012 01:35:00 +0000

I have been tagged with a ‘Liebster Blog Award’ by Manu Bedo at her new blog, Hunt of Books. It’s not really an award, of course, but a question and answer game. I happen to think these are kind of fun, so I’m going to play along, with a twist. Below are the questions Manu asked the bloggers she tagged, and my answers. Below that are the questions I’masking - and I will be tagging my blogger friends who are most likely to respond. The twist is: my questions are not about books or reading, but are completely random things I’m simply dying to know.

Manu's questions:

1. Hardcover or Paperback?

Depends on how badly I want to read the book. I’ll pay extra for a hardcover if I’m really jonesing for that particular read.

2. What are your hobbies and interests?

Photography, digital art, genealogy, antiques, nutrition.

3. If you could meet any author who would it be?

I’d like to meet some of the authors I’ve befriended on the internet. They’re wonderful people I’ve never met face-to-face.

4. Favorite book series?

Of all time? I suppose The Dragonriders of Pern.

5. What's your favorite 2012 reads?

The Child of the Eyrines series by Rebecca Lochlann and The Halo Revelations by J. S. Colley.

6. What books would you like to read again?

I rarely read a book twice. Those that I have include: A Deepness in the Dark by Vernor Vinge and Emergence by David. A. Palmer.

7. Favorite author?

I don’t have just one at the moment.

8. Favorite movie based on books?

Harry Potter, hands down.

9. Do you think there would be a World War III?

If there is, I suspect it won’t reach the point where it is referred to as WWIII, because there won’t be anyone left to name it that.

10. Favorite quote from a book?

I’m drawing a blank on this one....

11. Which one is better: The Hunger Games or Harry Potter?

I haven’t read/watched The Hunger Games. I’ll probably wait until the movie comes out on Netflix, but I highly doubt it will surpass Harry Potter in my estimation.

NOW for my questions to you, the unfortunate victims - I mean, friends - I’ve tagged as ‘winners’ of this ‘award’:

1. Does cilantro taste like soap to you?

2. Do you think jumping spiders (with their shiny button eyes) are cute?

3. Do you say the word ‘obviously’ in your head like Severus Snape does here?

4. Who would win in a battle of wits: Betty White or George Takei?

5. Which movie was more painful to watch: The Forty Year Old Virgin or Bridesmaids?

6. Who would you like to play the main characters in the movie version of the last book you wrote?

7. How many fillings do you have?

8. If you could give truth serum to anyone on the planet right now, who would it be and why?

9. Which is the worse gift to receive from a man - a bouquet of flowers that will die in a few weeks, or a live plant that you will kill from ineptitude or neglect in a few weeks?

10. Have you ever been tempted to write an anonymous memoir?

~~~

Calamity Jill and the Wind Tunnel

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Wed, 06 Jun 2012 21:00:00 +0000

This is an excerpt from a manuscript I never finished called Calamity Jill. It won the Kathryn Hayes Love and Laughter contest in 2008 and I thought I'd share it:

As soon as they pulled into the parking lot of their destination, Jill recognized that the evening was going to be a “litmus” date. He’d be watching closely, and her reaction to his choice of entertainment would give him a better idea of their relationship potential. Tonight she was in for a rousing evening of indoor skydiving. Jill mentally cracked her knuckles.

The first thing they did upon entering was read and sign a waiver that graphically depicted a long list of possible wind-tunnel injuries. Tom looked like a kid who had just presented her with the best gift of all time, so she was determined to enjoy herself. Or at least survive.

“Hey Zeke,” he said to the guy behind the counter.

“What’s up, Tommy-my-man?”

“Sam said chamber two was mine if I wanted it at seven.”

“Yeah, it’s dead tonight. She certified?” Zeke asked.

“Nah, I’ll give her the basics.”

“We got a party coming in at eight, so no unzipping.”

“Got it.”

Tom led her into a narrow room and retrieved two blue jumpsuits from a rack. Jill slipped the one-piece garment over her clothes and pulled the zipper from mid-thigh up to her chest. Even though the lightweight nylon was loose-fitting everywhere else, the inseam was not long enough for her torso. It was uncomfortably snug from shoulder to crotch, but she didn’t want to complain. The next size up was big on Tom. If she said anything, he’d outfit her in what amounted to a tent.

“What did he mean by ‘no unzipping?’” she asked as they entered the main arena.

He reached out, pinched Jill’s zipper pull and slowly pulled it down, holding her gaze with a sexy smile.

“Oh.” She looked at the octagon-shaped vertical wind tunnel. Although the facility appeared for the moment to be deserted, anyone walking by could see through the clear plexiglass lower walls right into the chamber. Not very private for the ‘unzipping,’ Jill thought. She wanted to ask if he’d ever unzipped anyone, but was afraid of the answer.

Tom must have seen her dubious expression, because he laughed and said, “It’s a joke, Jill.”

“Oh,” she said again.

He helped her fasten elbow and knee pads, and handed her a helmet with goggles attached.

“Ready?”

“Sure,” she said with what she hoped was the right quantity of enthusiasm.

He explained the rules and instructed her on the basic hand signals they would need to communicate over the noise of the fans.

“So can I do flips and stuff?” She was getting excited now.

“Not on your first try. You’ll see what I mean. It’s a challenge just balancing your body against the wind. I’m going to hop in first and show you some of the stuff you can do once you’ve tried it a few times. Then it’s your turn. Oh, and Jill?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t open your mouth in there.”

“Bugs?”

“Nope. You may not be able to close it again.”

He winked, tucked a bright orange silicon earplug into each ear and entered a small room attached to the chamber. He tapped some keys and turned some dials, stepped out onto the elastic mesh floor in the tunnel, and was rewarded with a hum that within seconds built to an almost deafening roar. He put his head back and his arms out in a dramatic pose as he slowly lifted into the air.

After watching Tom cavort in the 120 mile-per-hour wind for a minute or so, Jill suspected he’d tried it more than a few times. People began to gather on the observation deck to watch him. He expertly flew front-wise, on his back, head-down and he even pretended to sit cross-legged. Despite the chill of the blasting wind, Jill was almost overheated watching him, but his gymnastic skill was not her primary focus. Ignoring the comical flapping of his cheeks in the wind, she examined the lean, muscular contours of his body revealed through the thin fabric plastered against him. She’d already been treated to the memorable sight of his chest, and now she got a teasing sample of the rest of the package.

Tom finally stopped showing off and brought Jill into the chamber with him. The goggles protected her eyes from the force of the wind, but it was hard to breathe with her mouth firmly clamped shut. She was very unsteady at first, since every movement changed her body’s aerodynamic profile. Tom placed his hands on her, impersonally guiding the position of her shoulders and arms, the arch of her back and the angle of her hips. Within seconds he must have gotten an intimate portrait of the shape of her, like a blind man seeing with touch. Under his tutelage, Jill soon learned to hold a steady horizontal pose, turn right and left, and slide forward and back. If she wasn’t afraid her mouth would get stuck open like a puffer-fish, she would have laughed aloud in the wake of each accomplishment.

After her miserable performance on the slopes, Jill just knew her quick grasp of free-fall choreography was impressing him. He hovered next to her with a big smile, and she was riding such a wave of exultation that for a split second she forgot every cautionary lesson he’d just taught her. She threw her arms wide for a spontaneous embrace, maybe even prelude to a little ‘unzipping.’ Before her mistake had time to register, the wind fired her at him. Like a battering ram, her helmeted head made contact with his chin. The repercussion sent her flipping head over heels and instinctively she thrust her arms and legs out. The convulsive action put too much strain on her already overburdened jumpsuit seam. She felt the back split from crotch to waistband. Not sure if her jeans had exploded along with the jumpsuit she shot one arm behind her to cover herself. Her body immediately curled backwards in another flip and her compromised jumpsuit poofed full of air. She felt one foot connect solidly with something soft in Tom’s midsection. Upside down now, rolling like an inflatable beach ball, she glimpsed him doubled over in a slow agonized spin. Without his guidance, Jill had no idea how to stop her momentum. Still trying to beat the torn fabric down to hide her exposed rear-end, she bounced off the mesh floor and headed like a pinball on another course straight for the out-of-commission Tom.

Just before her flailing limbs made contact, the air cut off abruptly. Like cartoon characters falling off a cliff, she and Tom seemed to float for a split second before collapsing in a tangle of arms and legs.

“What the heck are you doing?” cried Zeke from the control room

“Everything’s fine. No problem here.” Over the ringing in her ears, Tom’s groaning voice came from somewhere beneath her, and she realized with alarm that his head was pressed face-down into the mesh. As soon as she scrambled off him she heard a muted sound like the fans were starting back up, and thought for a brief, frightened moment that she was about to be launched back into the air. When she pulled her helmet and goggles off, however, she saw to her ultimate humiliation that the entire observation deck had erupted in laughter and applause.

INSPIRATION: MY MUSIC PLAYLIST

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Wed, 23 May 2012 18:24:00 +0000

I don’t listen to music when I write. It’s too distracting. Music inspires emotion, and I need to be in control of my emotions when I’m writing or else the scene may end up with a completely different feel than I’d intended. I also don’t listen to music when I’m driving, because that’s my thinking time. I do my best plotting when I’m driving or cleaning house or taking a shower.

So when DO I listen to music? When I’m walking the dog, or running for exercise. I have a little SanDisk music player that I loaded with the following songs - hand-picked to help get me in the writing mood.

Rolling in the Deep, by Adele

How it makes me feel: Strong
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “The scars of your love remind me of us, they keep me thinking that we almost had it all.”
Movie you’ve heard this song in: I am Number Four.
Note: Currently my favorite song.

The Adventure, by Angels and Airwaves

How it makes me feel: Hopeful
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “Here we go, life’s waiting to begin.”

The Diary of Jane, by Breaking Benjamin

How it makes me feel: Formidable
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “Do you like that? Do you like that? No!”

Firework, by Katy Perry

How it makes me feel: Inspired
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “Baby you’re a firework. Come on show ‘em what you’re worth.”

You’re the Reason, by Victoria Justice

How it makes me feel: Sentimental
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “You’re the only reason that I’m not afraid to fly.”

This Kiss, by Faith Hill

How it makes me feel: Satisfied
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “All I wanted was a white knight with a good heart, soft touch, fast horse.”
Movie you’ve heard this song in: Practical Magic.
Note: I’m not a big fan of country music unless it crosses over into pop, like this song does.

All Around Me, by Flyleaf

How it makes me feel: Spiritual
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “I can feel you all around me, thickening the air I’m breathing.”

Bodran, by Young Dubliners

How it makes me feel: Exhilarated
Favorite quote from the lyrics: No lyrics; instrumental

Here with Me, by Dido

How it makes me feel: Sexy
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “Oh, I am what I am, I do what I want, but I can’t hide.”
Television show you’ve heard this song in: Roswell

I’m Like a Bird, by Nelly Furtado

How it makes me feel: Fatalistic
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “I’m like a bird; I’ll only fly away.”

Rush, by Aly & AJ

How it makes me feel: Invincible
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “Don’t let nobody tell you your life is over, be every color that you are.”
Movie you’ve heard this song in: Twitches (A Disney flick which I’ve never seen).

Poker Face, by Lady Gaga

How it makes me feel: Pumped
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “Can’t read my, can’t read my, no he can’t read my poker face.”
Movie you’ve heard this song in: Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief.

Letters from the Sky, by Civil Twilight

How it makes me feel: Epic
Favorite quote from the lyrics: “That you and I were made for this, I was made to taste your kiss.”
Movie you’ve heard this song in: I am Number Four.

Indie Author - THE GAME

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 16:43:00 +0000

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Roll the dice. Move your token. Play the game everyone with a word processing program is playing! Learn as you go, because the rules change as fast as the publishing industry!

Land on the Goodreads square: Whoop! Whoop! Warning, Warning. Author approaching forum. Use extreme caution. Do not engage the indigenous readers in conversation about your book. Severe consequences will result! Move ahead one space.

Land on the Librarything square: Enter your ebook in the Member Giveaway program, where readers can get a free copy of your book in exchange for a review. Discover that ‘winners’ of Member Giveaway books are chosen at random, unlike the traditionally published books given away in the Early Reviewer program, where Librarything uses a complicated algorithm to ensure good placement. Give away fifty free ebooks, get two reviews and be thankful you got any!

Draw a Book Review card: Three Stars! A quick check on this person’s other reviews shows s/he is historically stingy with stars. You’re pathetically grateful s/he gave you the “It was okay” thumbs-unenthusiastically-up. Move ahead one space.

Land on the Publicity square: You’ve just been asked to appear on an unscripted podcast/internet radio talk show with an aggressive host, so polish your smile and prepare to field random questions LIVE on the internet in direct opposition to the introverted nature that made you a writer in the first place!

Draw an Expense card: You blow tons of money on video editing software that comes with a user’s manual written for a much earlier version. Then you spend weeks slaving to make a decent book trailer. After uploading to YouTube, you get seventeen views, two disgustingly profane comments (before you figure out how to change the settings to allow comments only with approval), and an anonymous thumbs-down. Go back three spaces.

Land on the Book Promotion square: Your endless marketing efforts have sucked every last drop of joy out of the thought of writing another book and your muse is actively trying to convince you to take up pottery. Go back three spaces.

Land on the Amazon Discussion square: Whoop! Whoop! Warning, Warning. You stumble into an Amazon Discussion titled ‘Badly Behaving Authors’ and are horrified at how much venom is directed your way. Leave with your tail tucked firmly between your legs and seriously consider changing your user name. Lose a turn.

Land on the ‘I Used to Enjoy Reading’ square: Your swaying TBR (To Be Read) pile is stacked a mile high with other indie authors’ books. You owe so many reads it will take you until the year 2525 to fulfill your obligation. Go back five spaces.

Land on the Facebook square: You are among friends of your own choosing, many of them indie authors like yourself. You may relax and spread the joy by clicking ‘like’ on other authors’ posts about their books. You may enjoy the steady stream of inspirational and funny pictures...until, that is, your former best friend begins tagging you in a series of embarrassing photos from your ‘wild’ days and your dad, who never learned that all-caps is shouting, posts a LOUD admonishment on your wall that you never call him. Bye-bye professionalism! Go back two spaces.

Land on the Twitter square: Welcome to the Land of Spam, where the one who dies with the most followers wins! Here, indie authors are free to spam each other to our hearts’ content. Make your followers happy and retweet their spam - they’ll return the favor and retweet yours! Spam it up! Nobody cares because with thousands of followers, we’d have to spend 24/7 reading tweets to keep up! Whee!

Land on the Family square: Of all your family members, the only one who bothers to read your book is ‘No-holds Barred’ Aunt Fanny, who promptly reviews it on Amazon and tells the world that funny story about how you lost your bikini bottoms while waterskiing on the Sacramento River. What a cute butt you had! Go back one space.

Land on the Kindle Forum square: Whoop! Whoop! Warning, Warning. You start a forum thread offering to swap reviews with other authors. Within 12.3 seconds, you have seven responses from the established forum cronies advising you that what you are proposing is sleazy and unethical. Leave with your tail tucked firmly between your legs and request from the forum administrator that your account be deleted. Lose a turn.

Draw an Expense card: You splurge for a portrait at the local J.C. Penny that makes you look like a refugee from an eighties Glamour Shot. In desperate need of an author headshot, you break out your ancient point-and-shoot and, ignoring the burning pain of holding your arm out straight for three hours, take exactly four hundred and twelve photos until you get one where both eyes are open the same width and your nose doesn’t look like it belongs on Mr. Ed.

Land on the Royalty square: You receive your first email from Amazon with your royalty statement. Take the family to McDonald’s in celebration, but restrict them to the dollar menu. Advance token to the Taxes square.

Land on the Taxes square: The IRS gleefully adds insult to injury by taxing your meager royalties. Enter the data into Turbotax and watch in horror as the extra income pushes you into a higher tax bracket. Attempt to conceal the information from your spouse, who always knew no good could come of this crazy author venture. Go back one space.

Draw a Book Review card: Two Stars! This reviewer got the book for free and admits to only reading the first chapter. S/he claims to not be in the habit of reviewing books s/he ‘couldn’t finish,’ but s/he immediately hated your flawed heroine and brilliantly deduced how the story would end anyway. S/he would have given it one star, but doesn’t like to be cruel. Go back three spaces.

Land on the Blog square: You’ve been blogging for years already, but have to go through and read all your old posts to clean out the ones in which you are ranting, raving, revealing TMI about yourself or your family, or otherwise coming across as unprofessional. From this point on your blog posts are strictly limited to discussion about books, writing, and the ‘author experience’ - just like all the other indie authors out there. Your followers, all six of them, don’t notice the changes.

Draw an Expense card: You purchase the cheapest drag-and-drop website design software on the market and begin the frustrating job of learning how to use it to create an author website. The user’s manual has been badly translated from some foreign language, but you eventually cobble together a somewhat professional-looking site. Advance token to the Domain square.

Land on the Domain square: Your dot com name is already taken, so you are forced to choose from an embarrassing dot net, dot org or dot biz. Once you own your spanking new domain, you begin to wade through the incomprehensible world of GoDaddy. You upload your site into the ether a dozen times before locating the problem on an obscure user’s forum thread. Yay, your site is finally live! Begin checking the site stats every day, several times a day. Be impressed at how many visitors you’ve gotten - until you find out what ‘spiders’ and ‘bots’ are. Move ahead one space.

Land on the Pirate square: Ahoy, Matey! You are happily Googling around to see where your ebook has been mentioned on the interwebs when you find that it is available, for free, on a site called Zippyshare. After you finish freaking out, you contact the site and accuse them of copyright violation. They quickly respond back that your book has been removed from their site, but you find it elsewhere, too - on sites that are using it as bait to get people to download it - but anyone who does will also be getting a nasty case of computer herpes! You struggle to reconcile your hatred for hackers who create viruses with your glee at the thought that there’s Karma out there for those who steal your book. You are at an impasse. Arrrr. Advance token one square anyway.

Land on the Formatting (alternate name: Author Hell) square: You spend three unwashed days in front of your monitor obsessed with figuring out how to format your manuscript to Smashwords and Kindle specifications. Several times you consider throwing the entire PC out the window. By the time you’ve uploaded and all seems right in the world, your family has taken to tip-toeing and whispering and you have several mounds of tear-stained tissues littering the floor around you. Move your token to the Upload square.

Land on the Upload square: Three days after uploading to Kindle, a writer friend contacts you with a long list of typos s/he spotted in your book. After suffering a debilitating anxiety attack, you fix the errors and reupload. You find yourself glad no one bought your book. Lose two turns.

Draw a Book Review card: One Star! Oh NOES! This reviewer did not read the book at all, but thinks since you are an indie author all your five-star reviews must be fake, so s/he wants to even the playing field by lowering your book’s overall stars.

Land on the Book Blurb space: A blood pressure spike sends you to the ER after several days spent attempting to write the perfect book blurb. Go back four spaces.

Draw an Expense card: You create an ad for your book and buy space on a popular reader’s site, among thousands of other so-tiny-you-can-barely-read-them authors’ ads. After two weeks, you’ve only received five accidental ‘clicks.’ Go back two spaces.

Draw a Book Review card: Four Stars! And from a stranger who paid actual money for your book without you having to beg them to buy it. Skip ahead two spaces.

Land on the Amazon square: You browse the Indie Book store looking for your book only to discover Amazon has limited the Indie Book store to only the first thirty best-selling (which does not mean ‘best’) self-published books. When you attempt to browse Amazon book categories, you give up after six hours of clicking through 7,000 pages. Your stomach begins to produce excess acid as the realization sinks in that the only way someone will find your book on Amazon is for them to use a direct link. Go back two spaces.

Land on the Author Interview square: Bloggers love author interviews because not only do you do all the work answering their list of questions, they don’t have to actually read your book. Plus, they get free content for their blog! Go ahead one space.

Land on the Book Blogger square: After three days of searching through blog after blog with big, bold “I DO NOT REVIEW SELF-PUBLISHED BOOKS,” in the review policy, you finally find a blog that does! Too bad they only have three followers. Go back two spaces.

Draw a Book Review card: Five Stars! Too bad it’s from a coworker who admits to knowing you in the review. Here come the downvotes!

Draw an Expense card: Advance token to the Book Cover square.

Land on the Book Cover square: You’re no artist, but paying one to make your cover is out of the question, so you fire up the old photo editing software that came with your computer and begin the process of bringing your vision to life. You buy a cheap, royalty-free photo online and settle on a font that conveys the genre without being overbearing. Yay, your cover is complete and looks pretty good if you do say so yourself! The first book review you get calls it, “Hideously amateurish.” Go back two spaces.

Draw an Expense card: Your vision of the perfect book trailer includes music from your favorite band - but you can’t afford that and wouldn’t dream of using another artist’s work without permission, so you find a website that sells music from the public domain. Your choices range from scratchy old recordings of Amazing Grace to Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. In the end, you find a royalty free music site and pay for a 15-second clip that you loop in the background and hope no one notices. Go ahead one space.

Draw a Book Review card: Five Stars! From a stranger who raved about it and posted their review on their blog as well as Amazon, Goodreads and Libarything! THIS is why you decided to self-publish. Skip ahead to the end of the game.

YOU SURVIVED - I MEAN WIN!
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Why I Hate April Fools Day

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 15:28:00 +0000

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In the fourth grade I was in love with all things horse. I had horse figurines, horse books, horse pictures, horse everything. I wanted a horse SO BAD.

One morning before school, my mother and older brother woke me up. “Lisa!” (That was my nickname) “Get up! You won the horse! You won the horse!”

I rubbed sleep out of my eyes, confused. “What?”

My mom said, “I entered you in a contest at McDonalds to win a horse and you WON! We just heard it announced on the radio!”

My eyes must have been as big as saucers as her words sank in. “Really?”

She urged me to get up. “We have to call them to claim your prize!”

Sleepy and dazed at the thought of my dream finally coming true, I followed her and my brother out into the living room. She picked up the phone and dialed, handing me the receiver.

“What do I say?” I asked.

“Say, ‘I’m the one that won the horse,’” she replied.

At the other end of the phone, a young male voice answered, “This is McDonalds. How may I help you?”

In a voice shaking with excitement, I said, “I’m the one that won the horse.”

“What?”

“I’m the one that won the horse!”

Click.

Surprised and confused that I’d been hung up on, I looked to my mother for answers. She was doubled over from laughter. My brother was actually on the floor rolling around.

“April fools!”

As a deeply heartbreaking sense of betrayal overtook me, I burst into tears and ran back to my room. It took my mom half an hour to calm me down.

I have disliked April Fools Day ever since.
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Official Booktrailer for the soon-to-be-released SelfSame

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 22:55:00 +0000

Imperfect Heroines

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 22:53:00 +0000

*The beautiful young woman is running as fast as her tight skirt and high heels will allow, but the monster is gaining. She trips, sprawls on the ground and screams just before the beast is upon her.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, saying, “If that was me, I would have kicked off my ridiculous shoes, ripped off that skirt and sprinted in my undies on bare feet across pointy rocks. No way would it catch me.”

Really? Because I’d be terrified. Monster victuals for sure, especially now that I’m older. Even if I dumped the shoes and went commando I’d start running and my hip would go out or I’d be so scared I’d run smack into a pole or something. Bong! Monster chow.

*The pretty teen is severely depressed after breaking up with her boyfriend. She stares out the window as the seasons go by, apathetic and pathetic.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, saying, “If that was me, I’d get right back in the saddle and find me a man who didn’t suck.”

Um, okay. Everyone handles grief in their own way. You go out and find yourself a rebound cowboy and ride into the sunset. I might need more time to bounce back. Others might benefit from a handful or two of Prozac.

*The bookish but attractive-behind-her-glasses girl is the constant butt of the local cheerleader’s jokes. It’s obvious the girl will get even by the end of the book, but you roll your eyes and shake your head, wondering why she waits so long to get her revenge.

“If that was me, I would have kicked that skank’s skinny behind the first time she dissed me.”

Alright, sure. Because some of us don’t cringe at the very thought of physical confrontation. Personally, I was forced into a fight or two in my youth and unless you have some kind of training, let me point out that you may be at a disadvantage to your opponent.

In the examples above, the first girl was overcome by terror, the second girl was overcome by sadness and the third girl was, well, smart. All normal reactions, right? So, why are you so uptight about it? The main female character isn’t perfect, isn’t flawless. So what? Prove me wrong here, but is anyone? Is it wrong for a character to fall short of being a role model for our daughters? Normal girls make mistakes, say stupid things on occasion and their motivation can be selfish.

I’ve seen one too many book reviews where the reviewer commits character assassination – giving low ratings because they didn’t like the main character’s attitude or the choices they made.

Don’t get me wrong, I like reading stories with a good, strong heroine just like the next person. But it’s not a requirement, and frankly, a few flaws tossed in here and there will make the character seem more believable to me. We all whine, we all rant, we all get pimples. Very few of us pee perfume and poop Hershey bars (and I don’t want to read about the character who does)! ;o)

Naked, Wet and Inspired

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 16:48:00 +0000

The title sounds like an erotic intro, but I assure you, it isn’t. What I’m referring to is a strange phenomenon that inevitably occurs when I’m in the shower—inspiration. I don’t even have to be suffering from writer’s block; I might think my plot and characters are just fine, thank you very much. But when I’m in the shower, minding to the business of getting clean for the day, some part of my brain that is presumably occupied when I’m doing most anything else, is finally free to produce some of my best ideas. Why is that?

Let’s examine some possibilities.

Scent – Aromatherapy researchers have shown that scent can temporarily relieve everything from stress to insomnia to PMS. All I know is: when I’m scanning the grocery store aisle for shampoo, I open the cap, sniff, and base my decision on what to buy on how good it smells. Maybe the process of lathering and rinsing combined with a flowery, fruity fragrance opens up more than just my nasal passages.

Heat – There are very few more pleasurable things in life than the first few moments after stepping under a hot shower spray. Unlike the unpleasant goosebumps that sprout when our husbands or male co-workers insist on keeping the air-conditioner at a frigid 72-degrees, warm water sets off an exquisite chain reaction in the skin. Minescule arectores pilorum muscles attached to each and every hair on the human body react to cold by pulling the hair upright. It is theorized that this functioned as a way to make early man look bigger and more formidable when threatened, by poofing him up (the idea of a poofy, hairy man certainly frightens me). Nowadays, goosebumps in the shower set the stage for what follows:

Relaxation – Breathe that steamy air in…and out. Upon each exhale feel your shoulders dropping as the tension loosens its hold on your neck. We don’t need a yoga instructor to call out instructions guiding us through this part—it’s fully instinctive.

White noise – Sitting in my writing chair, my ears are constantly assaulted by the noises of the household. The base boom of my husband’s computer speakers coming through the office wall as he plays a video game or watches a movie. The incessant chat-chat-chatter from my son as he whirrs around the house like a hummingbird. The click-click-click of the dog’s claws on the wood floor, and his urgent barking at the slightest noise from outside. People actually buy machines that produce constant, soothing sounds to drown out external noise and promote sleep and relaxation. Inside the shower stall, all that can be heard is the steady shush of falling water, a welcome, natural white noise.

Solitude – There are very few places one can go to escape from the world. Even in bed, most of us have to share our space (“Keep your crusty man-feet on your side!"). In the shower, once the glass door steams up, and I can no longer see my cat staring intently at me with his huge, round blue eyes, I’m all by myself. No one judging me; no expectations. Alllll alone.

Refreshment – Clean is good. Just the act of literally and symbolically washing away the day creates a feeling of accomplishment and sets the stage for a receptive mood. I’m clean, I’m relaxed, I’m alone. The shower is my meditation chamber. Let the ideas come!

Haircut Chaos

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 18:00:00 +0000

Just for fun, I'm resurrecting some of my favorites posts that no one read.

January 2008

I took my four-year-old for a haircut yesterday.

What an ordeal.

This is a child who cannot hold still. I remember my mom talking about my little brother. She'd say, "If we ever get invaded by aliens and have to hide, we're dead for sure because Matt won't be able to hold still and shut up!" Apparently, my son takes after his unkie Matt.

So of course my son got a hideous haircut. Even worse than usual, but that may be my fault. I was rushed yesterday morning and didn't take the time to brush his hair (he was getting it cut, after all, I rationalized) and when we walked in to Fantastic Sam's we must have looked like some kind of dopey back-country folk who don't give two hoots about their appearance. The hairstylist probably thought he needed a cut that would keep his grown-out hair from getting caught in the pigsty gate or the rusted out Chevy.

She was young and it was obviously her first day - my son may have even been her very first haircut - poor thing, I hope she didn't have a career change of heart after surviving the chaos. So anyway, just about everyone in the store had to get involved in mowing the boy's mop. The other stylists took turns coming over and trying to bribe or distract him into holding still. He thought all the attention was grand fun and acted out even more. Then he got hair in his mouth and in his eyes and started whining and disturbing his apron, which made even more hair go flying. The harried hairstylist tried to remain calm, but I could see her hands shaking.

Not even the promise of a lollipop, a rare treat for him, could keep my little guy's shoulders from rising whenever the buzzy scissors hit his neck. When I say the haircut was bad, I do not exaggerate. I literally could do better - on a kid who held still, of course. So this poor hairstylist is going to extreme measures to fix it and it's getting shorter and shorter. Snip, snip, snippity-snip! I started rolling my eyes because he might as well have been bald by then.

Then he began a loud litany of, "When are you gonna be done? Are you done yet?" The fond smiles on the other patron's faces had long since worn thin by the time he was finally shorn.

Liberated from the chair, my boy went straight for the lollipop jar while I futilely brushed at my clothes, which were covered with a thick layer of short, blonde hairs after my useless attempts to pin his head down during the procedure.

As I walked out the door, I sheepishly handed the stylist a $10 tip for sheer effort, even though my son looks like a fuzzy, lopsided baby chick. Next time, I'm hoping to find a salon that, like many dentists' offices, offers sedation - for both my son and me!

Indie Author Discrimination

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 21:29:00 +0000

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I thought I'd write about some of the issues that led to the creation of my popular video The Indie-Author Lament. By "popular," I don't mean viral or anything, I just mean it hit a nerve with a lot of self-published authors like myself – you know that nerve in your elbow when you bonk it that hurts like hell but makes you laugh helplessly like a loon? Yeah, that one.

From the feedback I got on the video, it's pretty clear that just about every self-published author out there has a story similar to mine. I decided to write the song after two weeks of intensive marketing that left me feeling like a dog that couldn't quite catch its tail. The video was never overtly intended as a marketing tool, even though I did have it in the back of my mind that almost anything that gets me attention can be used to direct people to my product. So in that respect, I accidently stumbled upon a unique marketing tool in itself. People have asked whether the song is true; it mostly is, but I exaggerated some parts to make it funnier - and to make a point. The song is a composite of what the average indie-author goes through.

For those of you who aren't writers, you may be wondering what all the fuss is about.

There are two roads to getting a book published these days, the long road and the shortcut. A simplistic description of the long road is that it's the traditional route where your book has to pass muster with first an agent and then an editor at a publishing house. The shortcut, referred to by its detractors as "vanity publishing" is where writers self-publish their manuscripts. Usually they attempted to take the traditional route, but roadblocks and detours prevented them from reaching their destination. So they chose to self-publish, which on the surface might appear to be a smart move to shave off time in their journey, but more often, like many promising shortcuts, leads them through alligator-infested swamps.

I know I'm pushing the metaphors, but in the war against bad books, agents have traditionally held the front line. They function as the roadblocks; well-armed with opinions on what the reading public wants, and they only allow a chosen few books to get past them. Those that do, must detour on to another set of roadblocks set up by the editor. In this way, books that eventually reach the public are supposed to be error-free and high-quality.

The books that don't get past the agent are a mixed bag. Some are good, some are bad, some are very bad – but some are excellent, because agents aren't perfect and sometimes they reject based on what's hot in the market at the moment, etcetera. There're a lot of subjective reasons why an excellent novel wouldn't get traditionally published, but on the other hand, there's no vetting system in place to prevent the very bad self-published books from stinking up the shelves. Anyone who wants to publish a book can do so, but the bad books erode public perception of indies as a whole. If someone reads a traditionally published author's book and hates it, they aren't likely to give that author's next book a chance, but they probably won't boycott the publisher. If someone reads a badly written or poorly edited self-published book, there's a danger that they will lump all indie-authors into the same category and avoid them altogether.

The marketing advice most indie-authors are given is twofold: establish an internet presence in forums and on social networking sites, and solicit book bloggers to review their book. So whereas publishing houses can provide advertising and obtain reviews from professional book reviewers for their stable of authors, indie authors are on their own - and unfortunately, some do a piss poor job of promoting themselves.

In a certain subset of self-published authors, I'll refer to them as the Spammers (because that's what they are), there's a decided lack of professionalism as far as marketing is concerned. Spammers are not subtle. They are the ones who tweet the link to their book every hour on the hour. They are the ones with seventeen links in their signature line. They dive-bomb forum threads, comment off-topic on blog posts and generally make a nuisance of themselves – and a bad name for indie authors in general.

While the forum and book blogger advice has worked in some cases really well for authors who didn't abuse it in the past, there's been a recent backlash. Some forum administrators purportedly fielded so many complaints about spam that they were forced to create separate groups within the forums, effectively segregating self-published authors – who can now spam each other to their hearts' content – because you can bet readers won't venture to the back of the bus. Amazon UK, in a move they have yet to explain to their customers, has just banned indie promotion on their forums altogether.

Major book review publications like the New York Times actually have policies in place that exclude self-published books. Whether this is a result of pressure from publishing conglomerates who advertise with them or an unwillingness to dedicate the manpower necessary to sift through the chaff: they won't touch them. So indie-authors are forced to seek out alternative ways to get reviews, which are essential to sales. Indie-authors' family, friends and peers often volunteer, but what they need most in order to avoid the appearance of dishonesty is unbiased opinions, and that's where book bloggers come in.

The majority of book bloggers don't accept self-published books, but those that do have unwittingly taken on the road-blocking role of agent. They get the exact same kind of queries agents do and perform the same basic function of filtering out poorly written or badly edited books. This is ironic to the author given that taking the shortcut to publication was supposed to bypass these sorts of roadblocks in the first place. Book bloggers have popped up everywhere and some have become extremely popular: they weather a steady deluge of requests from indie-authors. Many are backlogged several months or even years, so even if they agree to read your book, it won't be any time soon. Many also have a policy of only posting reviews on books they liked. Some do that because they don't like negativism, but in others it's a defense mechanism to avoid confrontations with disgruntled authors. There have been cases of self-published authors engaging in very public and embarrassing flame-wars with reviewers.

So you can see how the aggressive, unrelenting actions of a few have severely curtailed the already limited marketing options of the many.

This anti-indie shift is understandable, but very very frustrating for most of us. My song was a spoof – it didn't offer advice on how avoid these minefields because even though in general indie-authors stick together and support each other, at the end of the day, marketing is a very personal commitment. Each of us has to budget our time and resources as best we can and something that works for one won't necessarily work for the other. But just because things look dire right now for indies doesn't mean it will always be that way. Public opinion swings back and forth, and indie-authors themselves are scrambling to think up unique ways to market themselves and their books. The majority of us keep tight rein on our marketing efforts so we don't humiliate ourselves or compromise our integrity. It's not hopeless, just another challenge. Until someone comes up with a viable solution to the lack of a cost-free, unbiased vetting system for self-published books, the best defense is to have a solid product and to maintain decorum. And it looks like the best offense in today's climate is to think up a unique, non-spam generating marketing platform to wow your potential audience.

WHAT'S GOOD FOR THE GOOSE...

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 20:14:00 +0000

On the cover of Cassandra Clare's popular young adult book The City of Bones, there's a prominent quote from the author of Twilight, Stephenie Meyer: "The Mortal Instruments series is a story world that I love to live in. Beautiful!"

Neil Gaiman raved, "Stephen King's Under the Dome was one of my favourite books of the year so far."

Taylor Stevens' debut novel, The Informationist, got labeled "One of the best thrillers of the year!" by Tess Gerritsen.

Let me ask you this: When you see a quote from one big-name author singing the praises of another author's book, does your bullshit radar begin pinging?

Why would a famous scribe like Meyer stir herself to offer up what amounts to a huge advertising coup to another author anyway? Let's examine her possible motivation:

The quote was given after Meyer found herself truly moved by a book she chose on her own to read.

The quote was heartfelt and unsolicited, but Meyer was given a copy of the book by the author/agent/editor.

The quote was solicited and Meyer felt she had to provide it, but she honestly enjoyed the book.

The quote was solicited and Meyer was under pressure to say good things about it.

The quote was provided as a tit-for-tat to benefit both authors. Meyer's name and the name of her book appears on the other author's cover, thus giving her extra exposure while the other author gets an endorsement that will potentially sway Meyer's fans to read his/her book.

Unless some industry insider starts blowing his or her whistle, we'll never know for sure, but the fact is: it's common practice in publishing for authors to review each other. When I've seen these quotes in the past, I've generally taken them at face-value, especially if I like the quoting author's work. It never occurred to me to wonder whether I've just been duped into buying a book I wouldn't have if it didn't have such ringing praise from someone I admired.

In the Meyer and Clare scenario, can the reader trust that Meyer really would like to leap between the pages of Clare's book and live there?

I ask because I've been accused of unethical conduct by the reigning opinion-makers at a popular reader's forum (that will go unnamed to hopefully prevent retaliation).

Let me start at the beginning: I created a website, a place where indie-authors could connect and exchange honest, unbiased read/reviews. This was born out of the frustration I experienced trying to promote my books. There exists a series of vicious concentric circles wherein an indie-author cannot sell their book without getting the word out, but can't get the word out without being accused of spamming. Everything we do to promote our work is either restricted (we can comment about it only in segregated sub-communities on forums) or suspect (we cannot ask our family, friends or peers to endorse it). Since we are shunned by major book review publications and ignored by most book bloggers, what are our options other than to pour money we don't have into paid advertising (which is arguably just as suspect)?

According to my detractors on this particular reader's forum, agreeing to swap reviews with another author isn't one of them. The response to my little post announcing the website I created was immediate and fierce:

"Just an FYI before the feeding frenzy starts on your thread. Most readers on XX don't look on authors exchanging reviews with affection. It seems dishonest and some of us feel that we can't really trust a review done by one author in exchange for another review."

"There've been numerous discussions about WHY review swapping is a bad (BAD!) idea."

"We get these posts a lot, Mel, and the overwhelming consensus is that these sort of things are unethical."

"I think that the only reviews that are worth having are professional reviewer sites (not the kind you pay for)."

"…around here, we've had this discussion many, many times. And the consensus is always that this sort of thing is a bad idea. Not only because it can look like gaming the system, but also because it can be bad for business. The appearance of swapping favorable reviews with other writers can cast doubt on all of your legitimate reviews."

Given the admitted number of times this issue has come up in that forum, it seems obvious to me that the concept is NOT distasteful to everyone, but as soon as the idea of swapping reviews is proposed by some hapless forum member, these "self-appointed desk-jockey lynching mobs," as a friend describes them, pounce. Notice the phrases such as "most readers" and "overwhelming consensus." I was given the choice to read the links to previous discussions—proving that the issue has been well-and-truly argued and won—or to take their word for it that It Has Been Decided that swapping reviews is downright wrong.

While my thread was combusting from the negative feedback, I began to get private messages from sympathetic folks unwilling to go against these forum bullies.

"The same thing that's happening to you just happened to me! …Everyone slammed me and called me unethical to the point that I was in TEARS!"

"I saw your book review post and was about to sign up when the comments scared me away."

So why is it that these bullies seemingly don't recognize a practice that already runs rampant in the traditional publishing world? Is Stephenie Meyer "dishonest?" Is she more legitimate than me because she's backed by a traditional publisher who can influence a "professional reviewer site" to read her book? If Stephenie Meyer can give Cassandra Clare a quote, why can't I give one of my fellow indies a quote?

The goose does it, why can't the gander?

My friend puts it this way, "These little lynching mobs don't have any real or meaningful power, and in the petty power they DO exert, they slavishly ape the actions of the people who are over THEM in the rest of the world."

Really, people? Way to go…way to beat down the little guy.

Perhaps my biggest sin in this sad story was that I went public and embraced the tit-for-tat concept instead of accomplishing it behind-the-scenes like the big boys and girls undeniably do. Instead, supposedly I've "cast doubt on all of [my] legitimate reviews." All one of them.

The Indie-Author Lament

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 14:55:00 +0000

So I desperately needed to take a break from my book marketing efforts and do something fun, right? I love dinking around with animation software and I've had Crazytalk Animator for some time now with no specific project in mind. I decided to pour all my self-publishing frustrations into a song. It's a spoof, a little ditty poking fun at everything we indie-authors go through to get noticed.

Death by Book Blogger

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa Conway) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 23:35:00 +0000

Now that I'm trying to get word out about my books, I was happy to find sites like YA Book Blog Directory and The Indie Book Blog Database. They make it easier to find book bloggers—potential readers/reviewers for my self-published books. I've been trolling through them for the last long, torturous week…

Kill me…kill me now.

No, I haven't quite lost the will to live, but if the paper-thin walls of my ego weren't bolstered by stubbornness and a rather urgent need to prove myself, I'd have quit days ago.

There are two kinds of book blogger: the ones just starting out and the ones who've made a business of it. Right off I'll tell you not to bother with the pros unless a traditional publisher's name graces the spine of your book. They are easily recognized as the flashiest blogs with the most followers. They've been around long enough to have gotten the attention of best-selling authors (with ARCs and swag, no less!), so they will almost always have a version of the following sentence under their official review policy page: I do NOT accept self-published novels.

I read that sentence over and over again this week, usually after I spent precious minutes waiting for a site to load, searching for the policy tab and reading through a now-familiar set of rules. If I could beg one thing of book bloggers, it would be to put that "I've risen above slogging through indies" sentence first and foremost to let us down before we get excited that their favorite books to read are exactly what we wrote. Those who've reached pro status are the ones most likely to announce that their review turnaround is two or three months down the road and if they aren’t interested in your pitch, they won't even bother to respond to your email(!).

Which brings me to the book bloggers who DO accept self-published books. With some exceptions, they are the bright-eyed bushy-tailed ones; the dewy-fresh newbies with palpable enthusiasm (who are often very young). All book bloggers love to read, but these newbies haven't gotten overwhelmed with requests by desperate self-published authors…yet. But they are the ones with very few followers, so the word about your book might get out there, but it won't go far.

Here's my stats so far: One week of trolling the Internet for book bloggers, an average of three or four hours each day. Hundreds of sites visited. Sixteen review requests emailed. Five responses. Two were very nice, but said they were too busy. (This could be true or could be a gentle way to avoid saying they're not interested, I dunno.) One said maybe. Two said YES, but both told me it would be several weeks if not months before they would be able to find the time.

Yeesh.

Actually, I don't think there's anything more to be said...