Indie Recon, Fae, Five Year Project

Indie Recon

The line-up this year was amazing. Three full days of speakers ranging from Susan Kay Quinn to Peter Bowerman with topics like Marketing outside the box to the nitty-gritty details about Goodreads. I have to applaud the group that puts this together year after year. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of work it must take. That said, I didn’t really attend. I planned to, life kind of got in the way. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to play catch-up now. I read three articles just this morning, in fact. That’s the beauty of this kind of conference: We get to go back at our leisure and let it all sink in. You can head over here

 

Fae by Emily White

I’ve only got one word to say: Cailen.

For those of you who haven’t read Emily’s first book in the Auri Wars series, Cailen is this super mysterious guy who you’re not quite sure about, but you want to be. Oh, you want to be. And that wanting continues in book number two; Fae. Thankfully, Emily doesn’t tease us. We get to know Cailen more, right along with Ella, and to know him is to love him. And I do.

You can find Fae here

And you can staulk Emily here

 

Five Year Project

On the last Friday of each month, we do a review, of our life, our goals. For me, it’s to have the Newstead books be the next great American novel(s). Thank you, Misha, for hosting this.  You can join this yourself by signing up here. A five year goal is a good idea for anyone, and looking at it monthly is even better, because it helps you stay on track.

So, how is it going? Slow. I tend to be in that brick and mortar mentality, that if it isn’t an instant best seller, than it will never be, and that is not true. Indie publishing is a completely different ball game. Our books never go out of print. There is nothing but time. But it is daunting. There are literally millions of books out there, and more coming every day. What’s to make mine stand out?

Whenever I think like that, the inevitable anxiety builds up until it’s just not fun anymore. It feels like work, and it was never meant to be work. So I don’t think like that. I write for me. I enjoy it for me. And if someone else gets to enjoy it, too, all the better.

 

Indie Recon

I actually meant to do a highlight post today, but I think I really want to save that for Friday, when the conference is over.
Haven't checked out Indie Recon yet? You can see the schedule here
Come back on Friday for that, as well as my review for Fae, and my update on the five year project.
See you on Friday!

Indie Recon

It all starts tomorrow. You can find out more here .  Personally, I plan on spending the day in my jammies and hitting every single presenter-- how about you?
Which means a little different lineup this week. I'll be posting what I thought were some of the highlights on Wednesday and Friday, AND on Friday, I'll be doing a review of Emily White's new book Fae (Auri #2), as well as my end of the month post on The Five Year Project, hosted by Misha Gericke. It should be an amazing week, hope to see all of you there!

Small things: Waking up

I'm doing things a little different this week. I'm celebrating the small things today instead of on Friday.


My small thing? Waking up.


Last week I went to a tea with my mother and my sister and as I was eating scones and sipping on tea, the speaker dared to interrupt my rather peaceful and placid afternoon with a speech that would rock my world. It's still rocking my world. She had just gotten back from China on a missionary trip to the underground churches there and she was talking about the people she'd met and the food she'd eaten and the places she'd slept. I started off interested. China is someplace I've had no interest in visiting. And the pictures she was showing proved it. Bugs. They were actually eating bugs, and a brain of some kind, and the toilets were literal holes in the ground. 
Then I saw it.
The people there looked happy, some of them radiantly so. Now, most of you know that I'm a psychiatric nurse; I know happiness is a rare and precious commodity. And the woman who was telling us these stories? The one who'd gone to China again and again, sometimes at the risk of her own life? She was happy, too.
A knot formed in my stomach. Have I become too spoiled, too accustomed to thick mattresses and central heat and every other luxury that has become expected? In short, have I been ruined by excess?
Just twenty minutes before she began speaking we'd had one of the waitresses close the door closest to us because it was drafty. I didn't want to have to put on my coat over the dress I was wearing. I didn't want to be uncomfortable. But it turns out uncomfortable was just what I needed.
This morning I watched as the sun rose over a field blanketed in crisp white snow, but that time I really saw it. That time I really appreciated it.


Do you ever think our "stuff" is sometimes a curse instead of a blessing?

Indie Life

There are millions of books out there; I'm just saying. How do you get yours to stand out? For me, nothing has beaten word of mouth. People loved my books and told others about them. Yes, but how do you get people to read your books in the first place? Give them a sample.

Online there are lots of options, wattpad being the one I use most, but there are more, like here for example. Every Monday I post a piece of my flash fiction to show people what my writing style is like. I am also a social person, so I enjoy doing readings in person. Once a month I meet with my Heart Link group- a national woman's networking group- and read pieces of my flash. It helps to develop that connection that you sometimes miss when you only meet online.

 

Here are some links to get you started: wattpad, Heart Link Networking

Do you prefer to network online or in person?

 



SIgned up yet?

It’s almost that time of year again (at least in the blogging world that is) where books have been written, friends have been made, invaluable information obtained. Yes, I’m talking about A to Z Blogging Challenge.

For those of you who don’t know, A to Z happens in the month of April each day but Sundays. Topics are up to the blogger but must correspond with the letter of the alphabet for that day, ex. April first is A, 2^nd is B and so on, which is where the A to Z comes from. Each year this thing gets bigger and bigger, connecting bloggers from all across the world. Because it’s not just about posting, it’s about THE LIST. There is a list with hundreds if not thousands of blogs to visit and connect with, blogs a lot like yours and mine. Trust me; you want to be on this list. 

Interested? You can sign up here

This is nothing newsworthy for those of you familiar with the phenomenon that robs children of their mothers, wives of their husbands, pets of their walkers each Monday through Saturday during the month of April each year. For you I pose a different question. Have you decided what you’re going to post yet?

Monday Flash: Never

Just a piece of Flash for your Monday morning.

Never

He sat down at the table right across from mine; the man with the dark hair and darker eyes who showed up every Tuesday afternoon right at three.

His head bent low, protectively, shutting me and the rest of the world out as he began writing furiously.

Wonder what it’s about…

I took a sip of my coffee and watched his face, all scrunched up in concentration and tried imagine the thoughts going on there. Were they of me?

His face flushed lightly as he put down his pencil and looked up, straight into my eyes.

It’s finally happening, I thought, feeling my own face flush. It had happened this way in at least two of my dreams; he’d put down his pencil, and finally looked up and saw me, but now was different, now it was real.

He didn’t make a move to stand, though, like I’d always pictured him doing, so I did. I stood and took the few steps that took me to the edge of his table.

“You don’t know me,” I began, saying to him one of the lines he’d said to me. “But I’ve seen you here, every week Actually,” I continued, laughing nervously, “you’re the reason I come here. The only reason.”

I stood back, waiting for him to do his part. 

His notebook was shoved into his bag almost as fast as he got to his feet. He left even faster.

Enough snickers came from the tables around me for me to know I’d never be coming back there again.