Details, Details, Details

Yes, I again find myself awash in details that need to be tweaked.

This blog hasn’t been updated properly – had to fix that. How can I expect to sell books if the book pages are not complete?

Got a very relevant comment today on an old post:

 I don’t mean any offense but it sounds like you really need to make a game plan. It almost sounds like you had absolutely no strategy but just to write it, basically. This post sounds panicked, disjointed. It really does.

I had no game plan when I published ‘Let’s Do Lunch’ and the book has suffered for my ignorance. Even now, a year later, I have yet to find an affective way to market my e-books.

Also, try to listen more closely to Zoe Winters, IMO. I mean, by your own admission here you only sold 4 copies per week at the 99 cent price point. That’s $1.75 a week. And then you said “oh shit” when that $1.75 was pulled from under you.

Do you see how this sounds? I don’t think I would even want to admit that in a blog post under my own name as a writer. Seriously.

I understand. However, I’d rather be truthful than lie and say everything is just ducky. It isn’t.

Take your book back to a critique group for an overhaul, and when it’s been revised and upgraded to death then republish it. Then work on your marketing a lot. Maybe the cover needs to be changed.

Did that – we shredded it and put it back together. Changed the cover. Brought it out in paperback so I can sell it to a local market.

I suspect the scope of the book is part of the problem. The opening is slower than it should be. I’ve cut 20 pages from the first 3 chapters, which helped.

something has got to change in regards to your story, you can’t just toss it up online for 99 cents in 2011 and expect it to sell like hot cakes. You’ve got a million other writers vying for that same 35 cents you’re so hungry for.

Very true. The book continues to sell a copy or two each month. So I know some of my marketing efforts have not been in vain.

I believe the books biggest problem is that it didn’t get reviewed on any of the romance blogs. I sent it to several – but for one reason or another (pace?) they didn’t review it. Luck has not be with me – or that book.

Now I have a second book out – I did a book launch and some 30 copies went out – but as yet only 2 reviews came back. There is a banner ad on Nook Boards, which gets me a few B&N hits.

This is not an easy business to break into. I’ve come to realize that I can spend 18 hours a day hand-selling books online. Or I can write and have a life. Until a reviewer with a large following gives the book a good review, it isn’t going anywhere.

Swallow the Moon, by K. A. Jordan

Swallow the Moon, by K. A. Jordan.

This excerpt on ‘Only Romance’ made my day.

Description:  June called down the moon to find her one true love. A motorcycle from hell dumped Eric on her doorstep.

An accountant for a failing company, June longs for true love. In a Wiccan summoning ceremony, she swallows the moon in an effort to find her soul mate. What she gets is Ohio National Guardsman Eric Macmillan, who owns a cursed Suzuki Hayabusa and two spirits: DEA agent Jake the Snake, and the malevolent stripper Cora Cobra.

Back from Afghanistan, divorced and un-employed, Eric is the third owner of a Suzuki Hayabusa. The other owners are dead, just not departed. He’s looking for the artist who created ‘Cora’s’ snake-inspired paint job. When Eric arrives at the scene of Jake’s last sting, on a one-of-a-kind motorcycle, all hell breaks loose – someone tries to kill him.

Van Man Go is the world’s greatest airbrush artist. He will repaint Eric’s Hayabusa, for the usual price. Like Cora Cobra and Jake the Snake, Eric must put his soul up for collateral. Cora and Jake failed to pay their debts, now the devil wants his due.

Somebody’s going to pay, and pay very soon. Who will it be?

Care to take a ride on the Hayabusa from Hell?


Chapter One

September 17, 2005 – Ashtabula, Ohio

The moon was a glowing opal disk, full and round, the stars were diamonds generously scattered on the black velvet sky. June drank in the sweet autumn air as she stepped out of her house. She glanced around, adjusting her long shawl, checking that the neighbors weren’t about as she picked up her basket. The boys next door had a bad habit of roaming the woods at night. June didn’t dare go ‘skyclad’ as her spell book said she should. Instead, she performed her rituals in the hand-crocheted, knee-length wrap dress she wore under the enveloping shawl.

It was her love of the land and the slow turning of the seasons that had drawn her to pagan religion. Wicca never made her feel guilty for wanting normal things like money, sex, or a better job. The Earth Goddess understood about urges, the drive to mate, nest and to raise a family. Everything had a season.

June worried that she was missing out.

At twenty-eight years old, June could feel her biological clock ticking; feel herself getting older, lonelier, with each passing year. She knew she was pretty, with long wavy brown hair, blue eyes and a slim figure. She needed to find, not just a man but the right man. June wanted to find her soul mate; he was out there, somewhere. It was time she found him, settled down and started to raise a family.

Tonight she would cast a summoning spell to find the male half of her soul.

I will find him, she told herself. There was no room for doubt, or the spell wouldn’t work. Still, her inner critic churned out questions. What if he was on the other side of the world? What if he had been killed, or maimed in the war overseas? What if he had already married someone else? The ‘what if’ questions became more far-fetched the closer she got to the spring. June did her best to block them out. She didn’t need doubts; she needed to concentrate.

The night was cool, the grass prickly under her bare feet. She should call rain but her inner self was drier than the grass.

Her ritual items were tucked in the basket: the glass pitcher, the fine blown brandy snifter, the knife, the shell, her incense, crystals and matches. Young trees whispered in the breeze, sheltering the spring where she performed her rituals. The area had a small stone altar with a white marble slab for the top. The spring itself was round, lined with slate and granite; the water was crystal clear, sweet and cold.

Her inner critic was in full cry, like a hound on the scent as she set up her ritual items. Even though she was alone, her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. Casting this spell was the act of a desperate woman. She was pathetic, a loser. That voice whispered with considerable malice: ‘What if your soul mate is a woman? What’cha gonna do then?’

“Ha! Not likely,” June said out loud. He was out there. She was going to find him.

On with the ritual.

On My Mind #OccupyWallStreet

 What an image!

If I weren’t too old to be running away from home – I’d be off to NYC to join #OccupyWallStreet.

 During this time of the Double-Dip recession that MIGHT become a Triple-Dip if the elephants don’t get off their reactionary soap-box and DO something.

The recesson of the 80’s destroyed any chance I had of getting a slice of the Boomer Pie. When our local economy crashed, I couldn’t put to use the college-learned skills I had.

Once you lose career momentum you can never make up for lost time. So I know just how screwed these 20-somethings are.

All I can say is ‘GET THE BASTARDS!’