THE FOREVER KIND OF GUY QUIZ Is he A FOREVER KIND OF GUY? Take this quiz and find out. 1. Your car breaks down on the freeway. When you call your guy for help he: A) Tells you to lock the doors, sit tight, he’s on his way B) Suggests…
Last week I began a grand experiment. I self-published my book, Not Quite Heaven in digital format, offering it for sale on Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com and in the iBookstore. After years of pooh-poohing self-publishing, suddenly it seemed like a very appealing idea. Why? Because I kept hearing from other authors that by…
There is no way to explain to someone who’s never written a book, never edited it for (let’s call it what it is) self-publishing, how incredibly tedious and time-consuming the process is. Just when you think it’s perfect and you’ve found and corrected every small mistake in your manuscript, a…
Picky Reader’s Latest Reads Live to Tell by Lisa Gardner. I think I’ve read every book Lisa Gardner has published. If you enjoy suspense, read her. Blood by Patricia Traxler and The Distance Between Us by Bart Yates. They are both well-written and enjoyable reads. If you like moody, sort…
You can see why it’s pointless to offer your ideas to a fiction writer. They’ve already got more ideas than they know what to do with or time to develop.
Nothing about me is memorable. I was quite old when I began to realize this. Thirty at least. It’s why waiters in restaurants don’t hear my order although everyone else at the table remembers my requests. Sometimes I think I’m invisible. It used to bother me. I tried to make myself more noticeable. New hair styles. Vivid eye shadows. I wanted to make a statement, but it didn’t work. Finally I resigned myself to the fact that I am imminently forgettable. I blend in with the wallpaper. Big deal.
Remember my motto: Life’s too short to read lousy books.
Get a first draft done so you can type “the end” instead of getting stuck halfway through and never finishing it. You can always go back and fix what you’ve written. But you can’t fix a blank page.
I like to think what we have in common outweighs our differences. I mean, here we are, thrown together again. Most of me is on top of him, as a matter of fact. That’s just where I landed. But he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he hasn’t moved a muscle, even with my weight nudging uncomfortably into his. That’s one of the things I love about him. He accommodates me no matter what.
