GoodReads site

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I’ve just added myself as an author to the GoodReads site. It looks like a really good place to go to find new things to read.

I’m both excited and nervous about the upcoming bookfair at the Olympia Timberland Library. I know it’s silly to be nervous about the little 10 minute talk I’ll be doing. After all, I get up in front of people and speak almost every day.

But this is different. This will be a chance to speak from my heart about my books, something I passionately believe in. Which is probably the problem. I’ve already discovered that I am always nervous when I talk about my own books.

It could be that the more emotionally involved a person is with a topic, the more emotionally charged their speech will be.

Good grief! If I break out in tears I’ll be horrified! I can imagine myself up there in front of the audience, blubbering away. Some people will be embarrased for me, and will look anywhere but in my direction. Others will get up and leave. Still others will snicker, glad that they aren’t the idiot at the podium. At least one kind soul will bring me a tissue.

Enough of that nonsense! That is not the scenario that will play out! I will not focus on the worst that can happen, I will instead plan for the best. I’ll wow them with my description of Braumaru, enthrall them with the concept of dream travel.

And, oh yes, I will somehow remember to breath.

Thank you Jupiterians!

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I applaud your self-restraint! Not only did you stay away from my daughter’s wedding–allowing it to be beautiful, wonderful, and event-free–but the absence of your pranks for an entire week was a wonderful respite. Just what I needed. I never knew you could be so kind.

What is that you say? You didn’t know anything about the wedding? How can that be, when we’ve been preparing for it for months!

You’ve been gone on vacation for how long? Yes, I understand that it does take quite a while to travel back to your home world. And you being gone that long does explain you not realizing something special was going on.

But wait a minute, just last week someone moved my keys three times, the dog was acting crazy for no reason, and I tripped for no apparent reason.

Why are you snickering? What is so funny?

I am not forgetful, of course I realize the dog is still a puppy, and I do not have big feet!

Okay, I’ll give you that. My feet are gigantic compared to your feet. Your feet are so tiny I can’t even see them. But please, give me a break. Wouldn’t I look funny trying to walk around in your shoes?

Failure–my friend

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I’m not afraid of failure, and why should I be?

Every failure, every mistake, every struggle makes me a stronger person, or at least they can if I take the time to pay attention to the lessons they can teach me.

I remember when I was a gymnast and I practiced for hours and hours every day. Almost never was I able to accomplish a new move perfectly the first time. It took try after try, flop after flop, until I would get the move down right. But even though throughout those many tries I would make so many mistakes that there was no way I could consciously keep track, I didn’t mind. I knew that my mind and my body were both learning from the mistakes, and that it was only a matter of time before everything would come together and the move would be perfected.

The same holds true in all other aspects of my life. When I have somethng new to accomplish I rarely hesitate out of fear. I don’t agonize over mistakes, since I know all I need to do is pick myself up, dust myself off, and try again. I will succeed, if I only keep trying long enough.

Which is why I say failure is my friend. As long as I continue to have periodic failures, I can continue to grow, to learn, and to succeed.

**Okay, this is really funny. I’ve already tried to publish this post 9 times unsuccessfully. If you see this, you’ll know that I kept on trying, and succeeded the 10th time.

***Actually, it was more like the 20th, but who’s counting!

Taking one for the team

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As a librarian who teaches what to do and what not to do on the Internet, I often have the following conversation with my class:

Me: So you should never do that.
Class: Have you ever done it?
Me: No, I haven’t.
Class: Then how do you really know you shouldn’t do it?

Yes, I know I can give them very good arguments explaining how you can be sure that something is bad without trying it. For example, I know it would be very bad to be hit by a car, and it is not necessary for me to walk out onto a busy street to be sure.

Still, whenever I can safely give something a try, I do. I’ve edited Wikipedia articles, blogged, built websites, etc. But even for the sake of the students I refuse to forward forwarded emails, click on possibly bogus links, break copyright laws, plagairize, hack into someone else’s account, or give out my passwords to anyone.

But I thought, I really thought, that signing up to do online surveys would be a harmless experiment.

Wow, was I wrong! Within an hour, my email inbox was innundated with junk mail, and not only from the survey group. I got email from:
• other survey groups, just in case the first company didn’t give me enough surveys to satisfy my opinion-giving craving
• grant sites that promised money for free I could use for anything I wanted
• online colleges telling me I can get a better job if I just got a higher degree
• work from home sites in case I didn’t want to leave my home to work
• coffee companies that wanted to jump start my day, whether I left my home or not
• insurance companies who wanted to assure me that if something happened to me they could make sure my family had all the money they needed
• debt relief sites that wanted to rescue me from all those nasty credit cards
• personal products like shoes, makeup, wrinkle-relief creams
• various things that make me blush, so I choose not to write about

Talk about an efficient group. They must have a very good system set up, to be able to share my personal email with such a diverse group so quickly. They have the skill of networking down pat.

I’ll be cleaning this mess up for a while. But at least now I can truthfully say that I have first-hand experience that tells me it is unwise to give out my email to any site that I’m not 100% sure about.

And that you should not believe them when they say they won’t share your information with anyone.

10 steps to support an author…like me!

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1. Buy the books for yourself (apparent, I know, but sometimes it really doesn’t hurt to state the obvious. You would not believe the number of people who have asked me for a free copies of the Behold the Eye trilogy, even though I have to pay for the books just like everyone else)

2. Buy the books to give as gifts.

3. If you have ever purchased anything on Amazon.com, you can write a review. So go ahead–write one! (You could start with Braumaru) You don’t have to use your real name, the author does not need to know that you are the reviewer. (I wouldn’t, I promise!) The more reviews posted, the more popular the books seem, the more popular the books become! (People love to read what is popular, no one wants to feel left out of the know)

4. Make a list on Amazon.com that includes the books, and include other already popular books of a similar nature. You know the old saying, birds of a feather flock together!

5. Talk about the books to friends,acquaintances, and random people you meet on the street. (you might get the right person interested, and suddenly, the books are to be made into a movie. I can see it now, everyone will be talking about my trilogy. The bright lights of Hollywood, the…oh, sorry, I got a little carried away)

6. Teachers often read novels to their class. If the books are appropriate for school, like my Behold the Eye trilogy (5th grade and up), ask a teacher if he/she would read it to his/her class. Or, be still my heart, use it as a classroom novel!

7. Request the books at your library. Most public libraries welcome purchase suggestons, there is usually even a form online. (You do all have library cards, don’t you?)

8. Ask bookstores if they carry the author…they probably don’t now, but you never know, they might start.

9. If you come across a site that allows comments about books, don’t be shy! Use every opportunity to get the word out about the books. There are a lot of people out there who would probably love the books (i.e. Behold the Eye trilogy) if they only knew about them. Spread the word! Spread the word! (You might even post a link to the author’s site, which will also help.)

10. Books like the Behold the Eye trilogy are not backed by a big New York publishing budget. As a matter of fact, the small publisher who published the trilogy has an exceeding slim budget, one of those typically called shoestring. Since I want the books to do well, I have to do the marketing work myself. Alas I, like everyone else in the world who works fulltime and has a family, am very busy. So any and all support counts for a lot. If you want to help my books, it would be a very friendly gesture if you just let people know about them. Maybe we can find out if word-of-mouth advertising really works! (I struggled to come up with a really good metaphor about how knowledge of the trilogy could spread, but I somehow kept mixing growing flowers with exploding stars. It didn’t work, so I’ll just spare everyone and leave it out.)

Excerpt from DTA (Chapter 15)

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This mornings writings (draft):

The first thought I become aware of when I regained consciousness was that I must have bumped my head on something as I entered the janitor’s closet. No matter that I had no memory of doing so and no pain, nothing else could account for the fact that I was lying on a cold hard surface with visions of flying saucers and ice cream running through my head.

I decided to keep my eyes closed for a few more seconds. The light filtering through my eyelids was blindingly bright. Or, to be perfectly honest, I supposed it would be blinding if I were foolish enough to open my eyes and let it in full force.
Which I had no intention of doing quite yet, since chances were that bright lights plus a bumped head would equal a raging headache. I hated headaches.

Gingerly I reached up and carefully ran my hand over my head to assess the damage. Encouraged by the lack of wetness I conducted another search, this time for sore spots.

No bumps. No gashes. No bruises. No blood.

But loss of consciousness, how could that be?

I’d have to think about it later. For now it was time to pick myself up, dust myself off, and head for the comforts of home.

Home. Safety, comfort, family…a soft warm bed. The perfect place for glorious sleep that I desperately need.

All I have to do is gather enough energy to open my eyes, rise from the floor, and drag myself to my car. Once I get to my car I can rest a few minutes.

No, no more thoughts of resting. I refuse to sleep in my car, on the floor of the janitor’s closet, or curled up under a bush somewhere between Denny Hall and the parking lot.

The sound of voices, a lot of voices, interrupts my internal pep talk. Instantly, adrenalin laced fear banishes the lethargy.

Were the weirdoes returning to the closet? Now, while I’m laying here vulnerable, half-conscious on the floor. I’ve got to find a place to hide.

Headache or no headache, it is time for action. My eyes fly open and I scan the closet looking for the perfect place of quick concealment.

Only, it’s not the closet I see.

My writing quirks

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Everyone who writes has one. The little ritual that a writer will follow to get into the right frame of mind to write. Don’t get me wrong, writing can occur if the routine isn’t followed, but it won’t be as efficient or satisfying.

Somehow, I’ve created an awkward ritual for myself. One that I can only follow if I have the buy-in of my family.

For me to have optimal writing time, I need to wake up in the morning, make a cup of coffee, and begin writing. The trick is, no one can talk to me.

It all began years ago, when the only time I could write was early in the morning while everyone else slept. So I got into the habit of rising early and immediately throwing myself into my task, usually before I even became fully awake.

Lately, everyone’s schedules have changed and my former routine no longer works. I’ve resorted to other methods of carving out writing time.

Take this week for example. I’m lucky enough to have this week off of work, and lucky enough that other members of my household do too. So how to write?

Thursday night, a not-to-be-named person in my house really wanted a popsicle. So much so that this person agreed to make it easy for me to write this week, if I would go to the store and buy the desired treat. You had better believe I had the car keys in my hand and was out the door in a flash.

What is a short drive to the store compared to a blissful week of writing? There is no comparison, let me tell you!

Writing and family

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I love to write. To me, it is like going on a long walk in the fresh Spring air, with birds singing, the wind gently blowing, and the glorious sun shining. A walk like that usually leaves me invigorated and refreshed.

I love my family. They are funny, intelligent, wonderful, witty people—every single one of them. I adore spending time with them, chatting, laughing, and exchanging stories. Time spent with my family leaves me feeling loved and safe, like all must be right with the world.

So life must be perfectly grand, right? I mean, here I have too different aspects of my life that I absolutely adore, so if one isn’t available, the other must be waiting on the sidelines.

If only it were that simple, but unfortunately family and writing clash horribly. It is my own fault really, because I can only write in a quiet environment with little or no distractions. Probably because the scenes I’m writing play out in my head like a movie.

So when a member of my family enters, the movie abruptly switches off. Ideas scurry away like a mouse from a cat. Thoughts disappear like smoke in a windstorm. My ability to write melts away like ice on a hot skillet.

Well, you get the drift.

Such is the life of a writer with a family, and frankly, I wouldn’t give up any part of it!

Oh, by the way:

Viridia is now published! Look how fabulous they all look together on the Amazon page.

Hot dog!

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I can’t believe it! I simply can’t believe it! If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes…well, even seeing it I have a hard time believing.

I’m sure you wonder what I’m talking about, so I’ll tell you. My dog has learned how to cook!

Don’t believe me? Frankly, I don’t blame you. I barely believe myself. But I’ve got proof, right here, right in front of me. An entire meal, hot and ready to eat, prepared while no one but Pepper was at home! (I’ve already called all my family and checked–no one has even attempted to take the credit.)

Even while in shock I can figure out what happened. I am guilty of underestimating Pepper’s intelligence. Whether good or bad, and we have a genius dog.

It’s funny. I had noticed the intense stares I received each time I entered the kitchen to prepare a meal. I simply thought that Pepper was just exhibiting the nosiness normal for Schnoodles. And, of course, that eternal hope that a little food would fall to the floor.

Little did I know that Pepper was watching me so that she could learn to cook. Amazing! I so misjudged her intense gaze.

But honestly, can you blame me? Has anyone else heard of a dog that could cook?

Hey, what is that noise? It sounds…I think it sounds…yes, it sounds just like the Jupiterians trying not to laugh too loud. Like when they play one of their jokes on someone and….

Wait a minute! Does that mean this was another of their jokes? Pepper hasn’t learned to cook?

Sometimes life with the Jupiterians is a little too, well, unusual!