Archive for September, 2011

30 Sep

Rocktober! Go!

So WHAT if today’s the last day of September. Rocktober begins in less than 24 hours, and I am EXCITED. I’ve got posts scheduled to go here and over at Rocks ‘n Reads.

Come join the fun, will ya? Celebrate the collision of music and books however you see fit. Come on back here or over to the West of Mars Fans page over at Facebook and share what you’re up to. If you’ve got a link, leave it and I’ll add it to this post. No link? Who cares, so long as you’re rockin’ with me!

Oh, and since I’m nice and kind and stuff, check out the price discounts on my books, at Smashwords and Amazon. All month long — just to make sure YOUR Rocktober rocks along with mine.

Friends Rocking with me:
Misty at The Top Shelf hosts Jeremy Wagner for a guest blog post.
Jill Elizabeth at All Things Jill Elizabeth is giving away a copy of Voice.
Mary at BookHounds found a book called Metal Rules the Globe. I think these authors are smart.
Not out yet, this is one to covet. A graphic novel about the Sex Pistols. Mary at Bookhounds brings us this goodness, too.
My friend Maria Savva is joining the fun.
Necromancy Never Pays reviewed Trevor’s Song. And what a review it is!
More from Mary at Bookhounds — a mystery box giveaway!
Misty at The Top Shelf has decided to interview musicians about their favorite books. Check out the first in this new series, featuring Derek Martinez.
Julia Smith at A Piece of My Mind does a Five for Friday with a shoutout to me and Wylie Kinson.

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27 Sep

Need an autograph?

I’ve gotten notes from a few of you about autographed copies of Demo Tapes 3. I’ve dragged my heels about it long enough, no? I mean, heck, I put the book out last June already.

I made a smallish order of copies, and I now have two left. They are up for grabs. (If no one takes them, at least one will be offered in a GoodReads give. Why not?)

Holler if you want one. You know how to reach me…

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25 Sep

More Car Tales: The Aftermath

The Aftermath of my Falling Tree Branch story was, quite possibly, even more interesting than the original tale.

Here’s how it went:

At five after eight on Wednesday morning, I filed the claim with the insurance company. Have I mentioned how dearly I love my insurance company? They make it easy: I could use my own people to do the work, not someone picked off a list they’ve already approved. No need for multiple estimates, none of those games other companies make you play.

At 8:30, my neighbor (love her, too. Lots of love ahead. Makes ya wonder how I can have a Trevor-self) tailed me over to the mechanic. Having her there was a soothing presence, as I could see shards of glass coming loose and threatening to fall from the poor windshield. I asked the mechanic for someone to fix the windshield and a body shop. Turns out, the body shop is right across the street. I thought that meant across the street and down a storefront or two. Didn’t think much about it. I should have. Right across the street meant exactly that.

Back at home, I called the windshield people. The plan was to fix the windshield and drive the car until the body shop could take me.

No go.

Turns out, if there’s damage to the roof, they can’t replace a windshield. Makes sense to me. (especially since I’d been scared to close the moon roof, in case it damaged the windshield further.)

At 11:30, the woman assigned to my insurance claim called. I told her where the car was, in case the adjuster assigned to the case was free.

He was.

In fact, the guy from the body shop had to wander back across the street so the adjuster could work. Turns out, they BOTH came back later to finish up. And yes, the owner of the body shop IS the father of the cool twenty-some Eagle Scout who spent a week at Summer Camp with our Troop. Because, you know, it was his son’s Troop before it was mine.

Isn’t this a grand adventure so far? All these people, chipping in so fast and getting to work on my behalf. But wait. There’s more.

At the end of the day, I called the mechanic. The car was done; they were waiting on the person to fix the glass. I told them about the need to fix the roof first and said I’d call the body shop to see if I could leave the car there.

The body shop told me to call the mechanic back and ask the head mechanic to drive the car on over. What service! I didn’t even have to leave the house!

The adjuster called around 5:30 to say he was done and he’d fax everything to the right places in the morning. We are moving so fast, I don’t even have a rental car yet. Picked that up on Thursday morning, then stopped in at the body shop to get my bike shoes out of the car, among other things. (Left my membership card for the Hoity-Toity Health Club behind, though. Ahh, well. They’ll still let me in.)

John, the body shop owner, told me that yes, I did dodge a bullet. A big one. He’ll have me up and running in two weeks.

Two weeks! I can live with that! I think… the rental car (and if you’ve ever wondered, yes, Enterprise really does pick you up) has about as much get up and go as a tree sloth. After six years with a sports car, this is going to be quite the adjustment…

And so the adventure continues. Know what? This might be sort of sick and twisted of me, but… it’s sorta fun.

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23 Sep

Trevor Fiction: Sucky Night

Author’s Note: This Three Word Wednesday post is part of the Trevolution. It has no spoilers for Trevor’s Song, and fits right into any of the Demo Tapes anthologies. If you’re new to the Trevolution, what are you waiting for?

Trevor yawned. It was big enough that the entire floor could see his tonsils, but who fucking cared? This show was lame. Lamest they’d ever done.

Figured there were fifty thousand people in the joint — or there would be by the time Sammy Spencer hit the stage with the latest version of his backup band. No one could take the place of Scarred Heart. And no one cared about who he picked as the first opener for his shows, either.

“Man, we’re fucking up tonight,” Mitchell said between songs. Trevor wasn’t even sure which songs they were between. Everything they played sounded bad. Mitchell, their awesome frontman all the girls dug, was coming off as some dull-assed jerk.

“Man, we sure are!” Trevor shot back with the brightest, fakest voice. Like he was some fucking cheerleader or something. Wouldn’t that be a hoot. As if there were people out there who thought Trevor Wolff wouldn’t put the skirt on. It would be way more fun to get it off the cheerleader he’d steal it from but…

“What?” he asked when Mitchell flicked his ear.

“Quit being an asshole. We’re all in this together. We gotta get out of it together.”

Trevor jerked his chin at Eric. “Been talking to Soul Boy, there, again?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mitchell said. “We’ve got three songs left and we can let these people think we suck or we can show ‘em we’re here for the long haul.”

“I think we ought to race through ‘em as fast as we can and go hide out backstage until everyone’s gone,” Trevor said. He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. His bass bobbed without a hand to steady it.

It was Mitchell who put a hand on it. Mitchell who told him to suck it up. And it was Eric and Daniel who agreed. They’d salvage this show, or they’d die trying.

Dying sounded like the better option to Trevor, but he was smart enough to own up to when he was outvoted. He’d play harder, run around faster, something so Mitchell wouldn’t beat him up later and accuse him of a lack of effort.

As if on cue, Mitchell, Eric, and Trevor turned back to the audience. Trevor watched Mitchell take a deep breath, as if getting ready to turn on the jets and wow these bored people.

Trevor figured he’d let Mitchell do that. In the meantime, Trevor himself would scope out the audience. Maybe a cheerleader had shown up, ready to be charmed out of her skirt.

He could hope.

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21 Sep

Night of Broken Glass


Nine and a half years ago, September 20 was my projected due date for my second child.

Nine years after that estimation was wrong, it became a day for celebrating life.

Yeah, that’s melodramatic, but let me explain.

I was driving me and the Girl Band up a road. Not just any road, but one I take almost daily. It’s one of my main arteries. And it’s a road I love, for its big trees and shady street. It’s like being in the woods. Even the Borough bears the word woods in its name.

I still love the road. What happened wasn’t the road’s fault. It was one of those things that happens when you’re in the woods.

Now, mind you, it was only 8PM when it all happened. It was just about dark. But even if it hadn’t been, I doubt I would have seen the tree branch until it made contact with my windshield.

Thank God the windshield held.

The tree branch? The cop, after he finished his report, walked me back to visit it. It wasn’t that little log I’d seen in my rear-view mirror and wanted to take home as a souvenir. It was over five feet long (an easy estimation for me to make, since I’m five feet long. Err, tall. Or is that short?), and it had shattered into about 30 pieces. One had hit my hood and my side-view mirror. One had bounced up and hit my roof … I measured it. It’s the width of my hand behind the moon roof.

So. One impact on the windshield, about a foot from the moon roof. And another impact maybe four inches behind it.
You know where this is going. You know it was a gorgeous almost-autumn night, that I’d been in the local park with The Girl Band, so my lungs were all full of the amazing air I can’t get enough of this time of year.

Which means, of course, my moon roof was open.

Open, as in retracted into the back panel of the roof. As in: no glass to protect us from any tree branches that decided a gorgeous almost-autumn night was the perfect time to break free and see what adventures it could find.

As in: we were damn lucky, me and the Girl Band.

Thankfully, the windshield held. I know I said that, but it didn’t just hold after the impact. Nope. It held long enough for me to pick up the Boy Band, to show off the damage to all the Boy Scouts — who, of course, thought it was the coolest thing ever and can I poke the impact spot and make the glass completely shatter? — and then to make it home again. Safe, if not totally sound.

I’m mourning the damage to my beloved sports sedan. But damn if it didn’t save our lives tonight (with a little help from fates or higher powers or whatever it is you believe in). This is the reason I drive that car. Okay, one of the reasons. It goes vroom. It’s nimble. It has an eight-way adjustable seat. And it was the Car and Driver car of the year… the model year before and after mine. Did I mention it’s barely given me a minute’s worth of trouble in all the years I’ve owned it? Did I mention how utterly I adore this car?

Now, for the irony. You see, I had made an appointment for early last week to take the car in for a routine tire rotation and oil change. I had made a note to tell my new mechanic (love him, too) that there seems to be an issue with my driver’s side rear brake light. But I’d changed that appointment, to make it easier for the friend who’s going to drive me to and from the mechanic (only because I’m too wimpy to ride my bike. It’s totally that close).

Yep. The car goes in tomorrow.

I’m sure the insurance company will send the glass guy out to give me a new windshield — it’s not going to hold for much longer. Thankfully (I’m using that word a lot tonight, no?), the mechanic is close, as I said. Bike-ride close. The insurance company, who I adore and have been with my entire driving life, will send an adjuster wherever I tell them to. They’ll make it easy.

So forgive me if I spend a few days hugging the kids, especially the Girl Band. We dodged one tonight. You’d better believe I’m giving thanks for that. The outcome of this little escapade could have been a lot, lot worse.

Thankfully…

This Boy Scout still loves the woods. Even if, every now and then, it bites.

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20 Sep

Susan’s Promo Tales: #Amwriting

Stop in over at the Amwriting blog today. I’m talking about the cool thing I discovered with my return to freelance editing.

And while I have you… anyone need an edit? I’ve got a gap in my schedule…

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13 Sep

Roadie Poet: Ghost

Last night of the tour.
I walk across the stage.
Last time.
Not that I’m nostalgic.
Or glad to be done.

It’s the footprint.
Just one.
Back near the speaker stack.

One footprint.
Like a ghost.

Hambone says it’s a
size 18.
I’m an 11.
I’ll take his word
for it.

Band’s guitar tech,
Jimmy,
left it.
So they say.

No one’s sure why.
Or how.

It’s creepy.
Jimmy,
he died one night.

Bus 18.
Same as his shoe size.
Woke up when they got to town,
found him there.
In the john.
On the floor.
Spilling into the hallway.

That night,
the footprint appeared
on the stage
over near where he’d stand,
back by the speaker stack.

Three guys from Bus 18
quit the tour.
Rumor has it
they went to rehab.

Tonight’s the last night
of the tour.
Last time to see
the footprint.

Just one.
Like a ghost.

Not that I’m nostalgic.
Or glad to be done.
But I’ll be glad
when I don’t have to see
that footprint.

Ever again.

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09 Sep

Reflections on Win a Book

I’m trying really hard not to start this post off by saying, “If you follow Win a Book or if you follow me on my Facebook fan page…” but it’s hard.

That’s because the news broke on those two outlets before I could make the time to talk about it here. That’s just how life has been of late. I’m working on correcting that. I am.

Want proof? Go check out the news that broke over at Win a Book and/or the West of Mars Fans page on Facebook.

Don’t feel like clicking? Then I’ll come out and say it. I closed down Win a Book.

It was and it wasn’t an easy decision. The time involved was starting to seriously chafe, as were the e-mails I’d get asking what we did (hello? Check the FAQ page, maybe?) and other things that proved people weren’t really visiting before sending in their links. It made me feel cheap. It took away from the original intent of the site.

The intent went like this: I had some friends who were discovering that giving books away was a great way to build their audience. They were listing their gives at certain sites that posted links to all sorts of gives. I liked hearing about what books people were talking about, but I didn’t like wading through all the gives for diaper bags and board books and other goodies targeted to the Mommy Blogger set. I’m a writer, after all, and a book lover. I wanted books, not items from a stage of my life that’s passed.

That was the idea behind Win a Book. Simple, huh? Since no one else was posting links to book gives, I would. Hopefully I’d gather a team up and we’d be off and running together. We’d be a one-stop shop for gives — and interviews and guest blog posts penned by authors. After all, I have picked up someone’s book because I read an interview or guest blog they wrote. I’ve made friends that way, and I’ve found some auto-buy authors.

At first, it was great fun. I had awesome people helping. It was a party. It was MY party, and people told me they liked the style with which I hosted. I heard from authors about how their sales would spike after I’d do a post for them. I was doing what I’d wanted to do: be a difference. Because part of my mission was to help the authors who had 90 days only for their book to make or break itself. I was tired of hearing stories of authors who’d lost their book deals due to the dreaded bad sales label.

Of course, reality can never match the ideal dream, and while Win a Book took off, I also began to see a downside to it. Not merely the time involved — I called it my labor of love for a reason, after all — but I began to see a real divide. Books that were promoted by the publisher rarely included involvement from the author. And books promoted directly by the author were the exact opposite — you’d see a real Internet savvy among this set.

To be honest, they were my favorite group to work with. They were hungry. They knew how to connect with their readers.

The book bloggers were right up the awesome scale, too. Some became true friends, women I’ve leaned on and been inspired by. Women I look to for book recommendations. But they all, without fail, are on the front lines of publishing, helping get the word out about all different sorts of books. Good books, bad books, books that rhyme with fun. They’re doing it.

I didn’t work directly with publishers, although I’d sometimes get an e-mail from a publicist, asking if I’d host a give on Win a Book. I’d have to explain that no, the site didn’t do that, but I’d be glad to post links to other contests they were involved with. Again, a time drain, but again, a worthwhile one.

That brings us to my least favorite things, and the things that really rankled. It was posting links for gives of books by James Patterson and JK Rowling. You know: books that were already best-sellers. Remember, part of my motivation here was to help the little guy, not the multi-millionaire authors. I did — and still do — believe that if the publishers put more promotion money into the little guy, there would be more best-sellers. I’ve seen it work, seen the power of the very awesome book bloggers. These men and women have clout, folks. Don’t disregard them.

(and, like I said, many of them are some of the most upstanding people you’ll ever meet.)

So… the lessons here:
1. Sometimes, you can’t heal the world. Or the publishing business.
2. You can’t control what people send you, in terms of links to post. Their agenda ain’t the same as yours.
3. There are some of the most totally awesome people out there who love books.
4. And sometimes, moving on is sad, but the road ahead is darn bright and exciting.

For any of you who have migrated over here from Win a Book, welcome. For you who’ve been here a long time, I’m going to do my best to devote more time here, including fiction (it’s been almost 2 months!). I miss Win a Book, but… time to move on.

At least I don’t have to help promote best-selling authors anymore. Not if it means ignoring the little one, the one who’s tomorrow’s best-seller.

Like me.

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07 Sep

Featured New Release: The Armageddon Chord by Jeremy Wagner

If you follow Rocks ‘n’ Reads, my spot for posting book reviews, you’ve seen my thoughts on Jeremy Wagner’s debut novel, The Armageddon Chord, which is the newest West of Mars Recommended Read.

Jeremy was kind enough to stop in and talk music as part of the ongoing Featured New Release spot here at The Meet and Greet at West of Mars. It wasn’t hard to get him to cough up a song that makes him think of his book. Heck, he’s a musician, after all. He could probably write a song that best embodies the book.

Our conversation went something like this:

me: Jeremy, what song makes you think of your book?

Jeremy Wagner: “The Armageddon Chord song, of course! Written by LUPARA. And all of you West of Mars followers/readers can hear it here.

This is not the cop-out it first seems. Click on through and listen. Okay, maybe it’s not as evil as the book made it out to be. In fact, it’s the sort of death metal I like: full of really good instrumentation and lacking those stupid-assed death metal lyrics delivered in a voice that makes Cookie Monster look like he’s singing soprano.

Dude. I can listen to THIS all day long.

Which, maybe, defeats the purpose of the concept of the song. I mean, hello? The song is supposed to be evil, so evil it melts amps and destroys favorite guitars and unleashes Satan onto the Earth. This is brutal, sure, but evil?

Nah. It’s too good to be bad. Or so bad it’s good. Either way, it’s NOT evil. Thankfully. I’d hate for life to imitate art, at least where The Armageddon Chord is concerned.

Go pick up the book. Here’s the link to Powells, since you all know I like them best of all the online bookstores.

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06 Sep

It’s the Bestseller Bound Birthday!

Hard to believe it’s only just over a year that I’ve been hanging out at Bestseller Bound, a message board for us writers. I’ve raved about the community before. (Check out the baskets of books they contributed to for the Pennwriters Conference a few months ago, and here’s talk of the site, as well as of the first sample anthology.)

I really love these guys. They are supportive and laid-back. When people come to me for advice about indie publishing, I tell the cool ones to join us at Bestseller Bound.

So… to celebrate the first birthday, a lot of us have gotten together and come up with a giveaway contest. Check out the list of prizes, stop in and visit the other bloggers who’re listed (they are also promoting the contest)… all the usual things you do to get to know a new author and see if his or her books might strike your fancy.

Darcia: http://www.QuietFuryBooks.com/blog
Cindy: http://mchanson714.blogspot.com/
Maria: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1418272.Maria_Savva/blog
Jaime: InkyBlots
Joel: The Tale is the Thing

Here are the prizes!

1. 1 coupon code for a free ebook copy of The Dream by Maria Savva from Smashwords.
2. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of any one title by Darcia Helle.
3. 1 coupon code for The Choice by Sydney S. Song from Smashwords.
4. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of Echo Falls by Jaime McDougall.
5. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of any one title by Gareth Lewis.
6. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of The Other Room by James Everington
7. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of any one title by Susan Helene Gottfried
8. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of Nexus Point by Jaleta Clegg
9. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for a free eBook copy of “2010 Hindsight: A Year of Personal Growth, In Spite of Myself,” by Sharon E. Cathcart
10. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for a free eBook copy of “Caraliza” and also “Breathing into Stone” by Joel Kirkpatrick
11. 1 free hardbound, signed copy of Joel’s secret 5th novel, shipped the week it is released.

You know, I might be really insulted if the winner picks Mannequin as their free download. Not because it’s not as good as anything more directly related to the Trevolution, but because it’s only 99c!

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