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.

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.

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…

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.

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.

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.

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!

Yes, boys and girls. It’s true.

The long-awaited (by me, anyway. The heck with the rest of you) short story anthology, Pink Snowbunnies in Hell, has been published.

Yep. Pink Snowbunnies.

The story of how this anthology came about is every bit as delightful. There was a conversation raging on the Kindle Boards, and Debora Geary, the eventual editor, made some comment, something along the lines of, “Pink snowbunnies will ski in Hell before that happens.”

And… we were off and running.

I wasn’t going to submit. Seriously. Talk about low self-esteem, boys and girls. Not to mention a total lack of ideas. My kids helped out with the latter problem, and I figured what the heck. I had nothing to lose; I’ve faced rejection over my writing before.

I didn’t face rejection this time. Of course, it turned out there was a 50/50 chance of making it in, but … I didn’t know that. Didn’t really care. I figured at the least, it was a good experience.

And yes, The Taste of Pink Snow is my contribution. I will have to look it over, but I have a feeling it’s one of the first pieces I’ve written in a long time that doesn’t contain some sort of reference to something involving the Trevolution.

I’ll let you go pick it up. It’s 99c at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords. And best of all? Proceeds will benefit animal shelters and rescue and all sorts of other animal-related places. Maybe including the shelter I volunteer with. That’s not my call; all I could do was suggest it to the Powers that Be. So… I did.

Pink Snowbunnies in Hell, gang. Pick it up — and like everything else, please remember to jot a few words as a review somewhere.

(Oh, and before you ask why I’m not listed as one of the contributing authors, it’s because Amazon only lets you list ten, and we chose the ten authors with the highest sales. Yet another reason why we need to get more people involved with the Trevolution!)

Now that it’s September, it’s time to look even further ahead than I have been lately (thanks to those of you who’ve inquired about editing. It’s nice to see I’ve developed quite a good reputation among you all!).

October will rock this year. October rock will rock so hard, we’re renaming the month Rocktober.

I am looking for folk to join me in celebrating rock and roll on your blogs. Feature a book, or an author. Give books away. Talk about music. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just want you to rock the whole month long!

The full details are still evolving, but one thing I can promise you: if you post a review about any of my books (or short stories, stand-alones or anthologies) and drop me a line to the url, not only will I post it on the proper review page here on West of Mars, but I’ll also add you to a list of folk who’ll get advance readers copies when the next book is ready. The more reviews you post, the higher up on the list you’ll be. (and yes, you loyal folk are already on it. Or will be as soon as I make it, but I know you need to go up there. Have no fear. I’ll take care of you.)

Review copies will, of course, be e-books, probably a .pdf. Just so you know. File that for future reference.

And holler if you’d like to join Rocktober. I’ll be posting all the links as you guys report ’em, so get busy!

Well, I gotta tell you. I’m glad to see this summer end. Talk about a summer of upheaval.

Okay, that’s enough talk about the summer of upheaval. The kids went back to school today and that means summer’s over. So let’s move forward…

* Check out my review of Jeremy Wagner’s The Armageddon Chord over at Rocks ‘n Reads. I love, love, love the plot of this book!

* I need new windows, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Like clothes. And chocolate. Which means I’ll be ramping the promo machine back up, so please join in and help out. More books sold equals windows I can open without fear.

* I’ve also opened myself up to freelance copy and line editing work. If you’d like to have your book copy edited or have the grammar, language, and word choice worked over, drop me a line. I’m starting out cheap, too, especially if you’re someone who’s done me a solid in the past.

* I am hunting for someone who can help tweak this here blog, and do it for a price that’s not exorbitant. If you are that person, or know the right one, please get us in touch. I haven’t made significant changes since 2009. I’m totally overdue (as many of you will agree).

That’s it for now. I’ve got a few other things I’d like to work on, like books, so I’ll go tend to that now. All your support and help during this transitional time for me will be GREATLY appreciated.

And did I mention Rocktober? I’ll put that in its own post…

I have given the most important interview of my life. It’s over at Jemima Valentino’s blog, so head on over and check it out.

Very very important. I promise.

In other news, I miss being online. School starts soon, so even though middle school will cause my day to be shortened, I’ll be back!

Whoops! I forgot the link, huh? Let’s fix that…

Yeah, I’ve been quiet. Lots going on behind the scenes as we get ready for school to start in these parts. So I asked my good friend Thea Atkinson to stop in and talk about her new book, Throwing Clay Shadows.

You guys know what that means … I had to ask her the famed West of Mars Question: What song makes you think of your book?

Like is starting to be the trend around here, she outdid herself. Bring it!

It’s pretty hard to pick a song that would fit Throwing Clay Shadows since it’s set in 1800s Scotland and deals with a young girl who thinks she has killed her mother with bad words. It’s the story of this child finding a way to overcome her sense of guilt, a guilt that is nothing, really, but an echo of the remorse she feels from betraying a loved one in an earlier incarnation.

Usually, I have a full soundtrack that hits on themes and plot points from the entire novel. So to pick one song is even tougher.

I would say that I listened to “Orestes” a lot by A Perfect Circle because the singer uses the metaphor of the Orestes myth to speak of making the decision to pull the plug on his mother’s life support. This is probably the closest song in the soundtrack that translates the agony of losing a loved one and feeling responsible. It’s a beautiful, haunting song that delivers an evocative message about the bond between a child and mother.

.

All about Thea:
Thea Atkinson is a writer of character driven fiction; call it what you will: she prefers to describe her work as psychological thrillers with a distinct literary flavour. As in her bestselling novel, Anomaly, her characters often find themselves in the darker edges of their own spirits but manage to find the light they seek.

She has been an editor, a freelancer, and a teacher, but fiction is her passion. She now blogs and writes and twitters. Not necessarily in that order.

Please visit her blog for ramblings, guest posts, giveaways, and more, or follow her on twitter, or like her Facebook page.

Book Blurb:
On the Isle of Eigg, in 1807, four-year old Maggie believes she has killed her mother by saying bad things, and now she won’t say a word. It’s true that Ma’s voice stays in the cottage, and sometimes Maggie can see her in the shadows, but it’s not the same thing as having a real ma. She’s worried if she says anything, she will kill her da too. She doesn’t want him to die, and so no matter how much he tries to get her to, she won’t speak.

The trouble is, the consumption that really took her ma and her premature sister’s lives, has marked Maggie too and forces her da to marry Janet so she can have a woman to look after her.

It gets harder to stay silent because Janet tries just as hard to get her to talk. Maggie’s not sure she can hold out when this new ma reveals secrets that make her squirm, that make her feel like Da is doing things he shouldn’t be.

It seems there is more to worry about than a few words. He is indeed in trouble and much of that danger comes from the things his new wife isn’t saying.

If she can just understand what Ma is telling her from those corners, Maggie will be able to face her fears and find her voice and true power. And her true power should be enough to bind the family together even against the darkest secrets.

Book buy link

Seriously. We set off for a place called Joe’s Barbecue, or something like that. Joe’s something or other. Only… it’s not there anymore (thanks, Internet, for telling us that!). Okay, we figure. That’s how things go. We’ll go down to the next beach town and try one of the two restaurants next to each other. We hear they are good.

Only… there’s no parking. Well, there is but it’s competitive and I’m on vacation, thankyouverymuch. Besides, we brought MY car and heaven forbid it get dinged up. Or worse. (Besides, it’s got to get us HOME in a couple of days.)

I suggest going past our beach town, to the seaport south of us. But it’s another 8 minutes and there’s been a serious rebellion against the car on this vacation. With a 13-hour drive home, can you blame any of us?

So we stop at the base of the bridge, at a place called The Bridge Grill. Can you say DIVE?

It surprises none of you to hear how much I love dives. This one does a robust mini-golf business, but at the same time has such a fantastic beer list, I was sorry I was driving. I don’t know where everyone else was ’cause the food — basic burgers, dogs, chicken fingers — was darn good, with the best fries this side of home.

And the guys working? Awesome. Total fun, laid back, eager to please… I laughed from the time I sat down, even when our dude almost spilled my husband’s drink in his lap, when I found that the women’s room was out of commission (apparently, part of the toilet seat was broken, making one of the regulars wonder why no one had run up to Wal-Mart and bought another) and everyone had to use the men’s…

Definitely my kind of place.

Now that you’ve all Googled The Bridge Grill (they are on Facebook!) and found where I am, I fully expect my stalkers to show up and take pictures of me shaking the minnows out of my board shorts… Look for those to be on Facebook before I get home.

*sigh*

Hey, stalkers. Stop in at The Bridge Grill for fries and beer, will ya? This place rocked. I’m giving them a definite West of Mars Stamp of Approval.

Okay, I am an idiot.

When I truly am an idiot, I have no problem owning up to that fact. Thus, I am an idiot.

You see, I’ve been asked, by various writer and reader friends, to attend various writerly events held in Charleston, West Virginia. “Too far,” I’d always say. “It’s like six hours or something, and this excuse and that excuse and a third bad excuse thrown in for good measure.”

I am an idiot.

We got down there in four hours today, including a couple of stops. Now, that’s just travelling down to the exits on 79, not trying to navigate the city itself. But holy heck! It’s ONE ROAD, a road that’s literally three miles from my house. It actually might be less than three miles. In all these years of living West of Mars, I’ve never thought to clock it.

How freaking easy is that????

It was a beautiful drive, too. I loved the mountains. Loved the trees.

So, the next time I hear of a writerly event down in Charleston, you’d better believe I’ll be checking my calendars. My kids are still young enough that leaving for a lot of weekends is tough on everyone, and I do have other commitments that will make it tough sometimes to travel to as many events as I’d like. (Which means: as the kids get older, expect to see me road tripping WAY more often. That also means you need to buy more of my books so I have the funds to make these things happen.) But the intent is there, and it’s a super-duper drive. I’ll be doing it again. Definitely.

And not just ’cause I need to walk the bridge over the New River Gorge.

In other notes of my trip thus far….

* Cell phone towers are ugly. And tall. They stick up over the trees and mountains like invading aliens (anyone else watching Falling Skies?).

* We had either the incredible luck or the incredible misfortune of driving past an accident scene on the interstate just as Life Flight landed on the opposite side of the highway. We were close enough to be caught in the wind from the chopper’s rotors. I hope whoever had driven through that guard rail and caused the highway to be closed (for how long, I have no idea) is okay.

* We are headed to an undisclosed location, but it involves the letters A-B-C-E-H. You may hear more from me this week. You may not.

* We are spending the night in a city where, I realized when I saw the billboard, an old frenemy lived. Maybe she was always an enemy; she never made any bones about holding her enemies closer than her friends, as in the old adage. It’s strange to think of her again. It’s stranger to have seen the billboard, which I only caught a glance of. Can you say Adam & Eve?

* The beloved satellite radio makes road tripping almost like being in a time warp. It somehow removes the feeling that you’re actually going somewhere, even as the miles tick by, along with the minutes. It has to do with the fact you never have to find a radio station you can stomach. It spoils us but at the same time makes road tripping sooooo easy.

* My travelling companions are lame. They read almost the entire 8 hours it took us to get here. I have informed them all that they only brought so many books and if they complain once we’re at the A-B-C-E-H place, I’m going to SMIRK at them. I saw amazingly cool things today. Makes me wonder what I would have seen if I hadn’t been the driver. Why read when there’s an ever-changing show outside the window????

Now, I knew Maria Savva was one of the coolest of the cool women who I hang out with (at least online, since Maria is in England somewhere). That’s why I invited her to join us over here for a Featured New Release spot for her new book, The Dream. I knew she likes to rock out, too, but to this extent? No way.

Anyway, here you go… The song that makes Maria Savva think of her book, The Dream.

There are a few songs that I think of when I think of ‘The Dream’. ‘Stranger in a strange land‘ by Iron Maiden, because of the time slip element, ‘White Wedding‘ by Billy Idol, because the story starts off with Lynne, the main character thinking she’s marrying the wrong man. But I’m going to say, ‘Stairway to Heaven‘ by Led Zeppelin is probably the one that conjures most memories of the book for me. The fantasy type feel to the song, and the line ‘there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run there’s still time to change the road you’re on’, fit well with the time slip element of ‘The Dream’ and the way the book explores whether fate dictates our lives.

Here’s the book summary:

Lynne cannot shake her feelings of dread; her dreams tell her she is making a terrible mistake, she must not marry Adam. But, how can she believe the dream? Lynne and Adam have shared their lives for three years now. She is certain she loves him. It is not that love, which her dream warns against. It doesn’t matter that she loves this man she will soon marry. If she marries him, the voice in her dream says her soul mate will die. Her true love will perish. Soon, Lynne’s world is transformed and becomes almost unrecognisable, except for the déjà vu. Time doesn’t seem to mean much anymore, and things are not quite as they seem. As her world spins out of control, Lynne must sort out what’s real and what isn’t to fulfill her destiny

This one link will take you to a spot that’ll connect you to your favorite book retailer. Pretty spiffy, no?

On the one hand, I want to say the Smashwords Summer/Winter Sale was a huge success. I sold WAY more books than I had dared to dream of. New sales record? Dude. And then some.

I don’t think many of those books went to you guys, either, but to people who were encountering me via the site. As I am typing — although it’ll probably have changed by the time you read this — I am the #11 Most Viewed author on Smashwords. That’s pretty incredible, especially when you consider how many authors are using Smashwords. That means people are looking. They were buying during the sale. I hope it’ll continue.

I doubt it will, though. Know why? Because the two books — Trevor’s Song and The Demo Tapes: Year 3 — that weren’t free sold a whopping three copies each. At $1.50 per book.

I won’t try to figure out the percentage. It’s single-digit. It’s sad.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind that it was the free books that moved. I like that people find themselves drawn to my fictional worlds and like most authors, I am pleased to see the books moving.

The problem is that people are picking up the free stuff. I hope they’re reading it, but that’s the one thing we authors rarely know, unless you readers post reviews or drop us authors a note. Let’s assume they’re reading it.

I doubt they don’t like it enough to spend money on the rest of my books. I don’t think it’s that at all. Rather, I think what’s going on is that there’s so much out there that’s free, people are snapping up the free stuff first, and waiting for the paid stuff to get to the point where the authors are willing to make them free. Then readers can repeat the cycle: picking up only the free stuff.

That’s still fine, especially because the pattern has been that when people pick up one of Trevor’s books, they tend to love the guy. How can you not? He’s a wounded soul, a bad boy whose persona has more holes than Swiss cheese, but of course, Trevor can’t see those holes in his armor. And he’s a rock star. Baby, we all love our rock stars.

So why does it sound like I’m about to whine? Well, because I am, of course.

I get the free thing. I do. I am all about free books, myself. That’s because money’s tight. Know why money’s tight?

Yep. Because I’m not earning any. Smashwords doesn’t pay royalties on free books, folks. There’s no portion of sales to hand back to us authors. Which means it doesn’t matter how many books I do sell during these promotions — and don’t get me wrong. They are awesome promotions — because unless that royalty rate ticks upward, I’m still a broke, struggling writer.

That part sucks. I hate it. Even more, I worry that one day, I’ll wake up and the only option will be to hang up my purple pen that writes in red ink, and get a job. Even minimum wage will pay me more than I’m earning right now.

There are a lot of ways to support your favorite authors. One is to write reviews of their books. Another is to buy copies to share with your friends and family. (Books make great gifts, especially when they come with a personal recommendation!)

But the best way is to spend your money and BUY those books.

So… to those couple hundred people who picked up my books during July, thank you. I hope you’ll love Trevor and the rest of the band as much as those of us who hang out here regularly do. Heck, I hope you’ll come join us here. And then, I hope you’ll go back to Smashwords, or over to Amazon, or B&N, or Powells, or wherever you buy your books and spend some green stuff.

Your new favorite author will thank you. I promise.

I asked my friend, Darcia Helle, the famous Featured New Release question. Ready for her answer? It’s a doozy.

I’ve been asked to name one song that reminds me of my book. Given that I’m a music addict and lyrics have always been my focus, that should be an easy task. It’s not. This is difficult, though not because I can’t come up with one song. I could name many and narrowing the field to one is the hard part. Snippets of songs, one line or an entire verse, will make me think of a character or a scene or a situation from my book. My characters are quite real in my head and I relate music to their lives in the same way I relate it to my own.

But you asked for one song and I have one that is, in my opinion, a perfect fit: This Is Your Life by Switchfoot. The song is simple. You won’t find literary genius or complicated lyrics. What you will find are words that could be the backdrop for Max’s feelings and for what death, and the light, teaches him.

One line that is repeated often in the song sums up the premise: This is your life. Are you who you want to be?

Long before I wrote Into The Light, this song struck me. That one question is powerful. How many people could answer a resounding yes? Life offers no do-overs, as Max discovers all too late.

The song goes on to say: This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be when the world was younger and you had everything to lose…

As I said, the lyrics are simple. Yet, I think for most of us, they strike deep. Max had let the tide of life carry him along. He’d put his dreams on hold, forgotten the passion of his youth. This is a familiar scenario for many of us, though most of us won’t realize it until the end.

You can hear the song here.

But I don’t want you thinking that Max and his story are all gloom and doom. He’s got a goofy side and his personality, even in death, is a lot larger than he realizes. He is not about to give up before he’s ready. We could toss in some Don Henley here:

I will not lie down. I will not go quietly.

And I have to mention one song that makes me laugh. No, the song itself isn’t funny but, as I wrote Into The light, I couldn’t listen to it without cracking a smile. The song is – Is There A Ghost, by Band of Horses: I could sleep, when I lived alone. Is there a ghost in my house?

Max literally haunted my sleep. He kept me awake. He was the most demanding, stubborn character I’ve had in my head so far. (I shudder to think another character could be stronger!) The story had to be written. Of that there was never a doubt. Max also quickly taught me that the story had to be written his way.

Then there’s Joe Cavelli, the P.I. who has both the misfortune and the luck (yes, an oxymoron there) to be the only person alive who could hear Max. Is there a ghost in my house? Yes, that ghost was in my house and in Joe’s. I’ve set Max free now. I’m hoping he’ll be off to haunt other houses for a while.

How’s THAT for an answer??? Wow!

Buy links!

Paperback

Smashwords

Kindle

Note from Susan:

Usually, when I write a piece of fiction based on headlines, I try to mask it as thoroughly as possible. I haven’t done that here, although I have twisted the facts in order to make the absurd even more exaggerated, and the sad even more pathetic. Savvy music fans will by now have heard the story of Coheed and Cambria’s Michael Todd and will undoubtedly know where my inspiration came from. Please know this piece isn’t meant to be my take on what happened. It’s not. It is fiction, inspired by a real life event but fiction nonetheless. I am also most definitely not trying to make light of the tragedy that is addiction. But for the grace of God, the saying goes…

And in the meantime, have some fictional fun with Chelle LaFleur, everyone’s favorite rock reporter.

Now, I been hearin’ stories of stupid folk for my entire life. Chelle here may not be as old as some-a you out there, but she’s heard more stories than any one woman ought to.

This one oughta win some sort of Darwin award or some such.

Gary Westin, whose band West in Dawn, went and got hisself busted a good two hours before he was supposed to take the stage, warmin’ it up for my favorite band in the whole wide world, ShapeShifter.

You know my boyfriend Mitchell Voss weren’t so keen to get the early word on what went down.

Seems that Gary character — and word around town goes along the lines of Gary bein’ somethin’ more than a character — decided to take a walk. That ain’t so unusual. Hangin’ backstage gets borin’ for these boys. They wanna be up on that stage, playin’ their hearts out and listenin’ to us fans scream. So they up and take a walk. Most of ’em, though, most of ’em stay inside. Stay nearby. Chelle ain’t the first journalist who’s showed up for an interview only to hear the guy she’s lookin’ for has up and took off, so the choices are either go home or take the nearest available band member.

Gary up and took off, all right. He took hisself down to the corner pharmacy. Just strolled on it, the stories go. So does the video tape. Casual as anythin’, as anyone else.

Until he leaned over the pharmacy counter and whispered somethin’ that the pharmacist swears has to do with bombs and explosions and dyin’ right there, two hours before the show, ‘less Gary can get his hands on some quality drugs.

Chelle ain’t talkin’ ’bout no Midol, boys and girls. Chelle’s talkin’ ’bout oxy.

Yep, Gary Westin, the dude behind West in Dawn, is an addict.

The best part-a this story ain’t been told yet, boys and girls. You still with Chelle? Seems that pharmacist believed Gary’s story, so she handed over three bottles of the stuff. Three a-them industrial-sized bottles, the ones the pharmacists get and then pour out and count your drugs from. They’s hundreds and thousands pills in there. Gary walked off with three of ’em. He got hisself a quality heist, all right.

Now, this is where it starts to get good. Gary left that fake bomb in the doorway of the corner pharmacy and started to stroll off, probably back to that place where he’d be playin’ for ShapeShifter in a few. Time was startin’ to get short. The rest of his band was gatherin’ for a pre-show dinner.

But Gary, all he can think about is gettin’ one-a them pills inside, where it’ll do him some good. His nose started runnin’ and he started jonesin’ and the next thing you knew, Gary took a step off the curb in whatever uptight city they was in, and the cop who’s showin’ up to talk to the pharmacist grabs onto Gary. Them pills all go jiggle as he tries to stuff all three bottles down his pants, but the cop? He’s more worried ’bout the fact our man Gary is jaywalkin’ on his way back from the corner pharmacy. It takes the pharmacist to point out how Gary ain’t that well endowed by Mother Nature.

By the time it all gots sorted out and word got back to my ShapeShifter boys, it was one hour to showtime. And the openin’ act went and got hisself thrown in the slammer. I told you Chelle ain’t heard anythin’ so stupid in her entire life.

This story got part of a happy endin’, anyway. My ShapeShifter boys took the rest of West in Dawn and jumped up on that stage and played a whole slew-a cover tunes that had the crowd rockin’ out. Then they turned right on around and played another two hours of ShapeShifter songs.

Last I hear, Gary’s facin’ twenty years for stealin’ that oxy, and two weeks on top-a that for the jaywalkin’.

You heard it first and you heard it here: If you gotta get your fix, don’t jaywalk on your way back from holdin’ up the corner pharmacy. Hear?

Another note from Susan: I’ve been kicking around the idea of how to let Chelle tell this story, so thanks to the wonders at Three Word Wednesday for providing me with three really good words that unlocked the piece.

I met Katie Salidas over at the BestsellerBound.com forums. I think I’ve mentioned them before; it’s a great community, full of awesome writers. If you’re a reader, you’ll want to check out this group. I haven’t found a clunker book among our catalog (although I admit I haven’t read nearly as many as I’d like to).

The group is SO strong, in fact, that this is the first of three Featured New Releases I’ll be bringing you guys in the near future.

Katie’s new book, Pandora’s Box, is the third in her Immortals series.

Here’s what Katie said when asked the famed Question:
What song makes you think of your book?

This, being book three in my Immortalis series, has its own song. Each book has had a specific feel. Sometimes fast paced, and sometimes slow, depressing, and moody. But Pandora’s Box I feel has more creepy yet touching feel. For this reason I choose Haunted by Poe.

Just listen to it. The feel of the melody, the lyrics, the spooky background sounds. It’s a very good song!

You know, I hear about Poe fairly often. I have a friend who even sent me a CD, but… to no avail. I know. I ought to fix that.

YOU ought to fix it, also. And while you’re fixing things, why not pick up a copy of Pandora’s Box? Or even the whole series; Katie would like it if you did that.

She even made it easy. Here’s a TON of buy links:
Amazon US Kindle

Amazon US Print

Amazon UK Kindle

Amazon UK Print

Barnes & Noble

Author Autographed Copies

And… now, about the book!

After a few months as a vampire, Alyssa thought she’d learned all she needed to know about the supernatural world. But her confidence is shattered by the delivery of a mysterious package – a Pandora’s Box. Seemingly innocuous, the box is in reality an ancient prison, generated by a magic more powerful than anyone in her clan has ever known. But what manner of evil could need such force to contain it? When the box is opened, the sinister creature within is released, and only supernatural blood will satiate its thirst. The clan soon learns how it feels when the hunter becomes the hunted. Powerless against the ancient evil, the clan flees Las Vegas for Boston, with only a slim hope for salvation. Could Lysander’s old journals hold the key? And what if they don’t? And how welcome will they be in a city run by a whole different kind of supernatural being? Werewolves…

I don’t know if it’s the writer in me or what, but when there’s a chance to do something new and/or different, I’m usually right at the front of the line, eager for my chance to experience whatever it is.

Last night, it was Pittsburgh’s new Arena Football League team, the Power.

The offer had come down through the Boy Scouts. Discount tickets, a meet and greet with the coach beforehand, the game, a bobblehead for all, and an autograph session afterward. Turns out the only thing special was the meet and greet with the coach, who called a few of the players over, as well. Next time, I hope he uses a better script.

As we walked onto the field at the Consol — yes, where my Penguins spend the winter. And fall. And spring. And, in good years, the early part of summer — many of the players were sitting on the walls, and we had to go around them. A few thanked us for coming. All were gracious and glad to see us; attendance this first year hasn’t been so great. Last night, the team pulled in 8600, into an arena that packs 18,000 in for hockey. (To be fair, a number of the seats in the Consol are blocked off for Power games. But I do wonder if those seats would be open, should demand be there.)

So I’m feeling good about this. The team, they’re classy. A far cry from the usual stories we see on the news. Not to mention the hoopla over Hines Ward’s arrest for apparent DUI over the weekend.

And then the game begins. Yes, it’s faster than the NFL, which is a game I refuse to ever attend in person again. Every time I call my attention back to the field, the play’s over. Give me my clean bathrooms at home, my heated family room, and Tunch and Billy on the radio, you know?

But there’s more. This game’s got ATTITUDE. It’s in the announcer, who’s just great. It’s in the coach, who was on the field (what??? Seriously! He stood ON the field like I did when I coached ice hockey for six year olds!). It’s in the crowd, who dances and shouts and whoo-boy, are some of these fans into their Power. It’s in the halftime show, which was a real show, complete with local singer. And the Sparks, the professional dance team.

I’d go back, most definitely. I doubt I’d ever learn to love the AFL as much as I love my hockey, but that’s not a shock to anyone. It was a fun night, and the team makes good on their fan’s bill of rights. (I’ll let you read it yourself.) I’d have loved to stay for the autograph session after the game, but the team was blown out, it was a Sunday night, and we were all tired.

Definitely next time.

I’m looking forward to watching this team grow and improve. For a first year to be 8 and 8 is pretty darn good. I’ve sat through Penguin seasons that weren’t nearly as successful, and that’s in the past ten years. And the Pirates? Sheesh.

One note, though: the Sparks. When my daughter and I went to the bathroom (why are they bigger, roomier, and with a nicer floor than up in the upper bowl, where our Penguin seats are?), she said, “It looks like some of the Sparks had plastic surgery on their chests.”

She’s almost NINE. And she can spot a pair of falsies. (I wonder what Charlotte at the Great Fitness Experiment would say to that?)

Skinny may be sexy, but having nice toned muscles is sexier. And for those dancers who didn’t get implants? (and yes, there are some) Kudos. Ladies, you are athletes, too, remember. Embrace your bodies, take care of them, and let the world see that a strong, toned woman is a sexy woman.