Expensive profession

I beg your pardon?

I'm always looking for ways to market my books. I still haven't hit upon the best way. I clicked on a gentleman's ad on FB because a mutual friend "liked" his page. I then spent nearly forty minutes listening to this man talk about his system. Okay. Then the price. 

$1000.

One. Thousand. Dollars.

Once upon a time, my short ass thought I only had to write books. It was often hard enough to simply carve out time. Now? I need to have my cat working a pole for extra money. 😑

This man was kind enough to tell me there are 60,000,000 books out there at any given time. How was I going to make mine stand out? Stellar question, my guy. Stellar question. 

Marketing IS hard for me. I sell more books in person. I like being able to see my readers and chat. But in this digital world, that's the exception and not the rule. I do, however, love making little swag bags and whatnot.

Finally received the last two pieces for my bags I'm making for Des Moines next Saturday, May 25th. 💖 I know 25 VIP tickets were sold, and I sent swag ahead to put in those bags, but I plan on making at least 100 more little bags for those that stop by my table. I'm so excited!

After this, I'll be in Fort Smith, AR, in August. More coming on that later. In the meantime, I'm still trying to figure out this effective marketing thing without spending an arm, leg, and some toes. 😉

Making gift bags!

Too much? Not enough?

I am not a moderate person. Let's bebop right through that strong personality trait and recognize it. If I had to be someplace, and it was incredibly important, and I sprained my ankle or whatnot, I would crawl. I remember doing a stress test years ago in a cardiologist's office. The tech worked that mother up to a major incline while keeping pace. I was huffing and puffing, but I was doing it. He was like, okay, you're starting to struggle, and I was all like...BUT I'M STILL WALKING! 😂 

When I go to these wonderful book events, I'm going in blind. There are not set numbers of books to take nor an idea of which will sell more. You simply don't know. I took a lot to a Christmas event last November. Incredibly disappointing. Number of attendees did NOT hold up. I believe this Authors on the Riverwalk in Des Moines in a couple of weeks will. I'm excited! 

But we'll be driving, and space is limited. I would rather have too many than not enough, but books are heavy, and I'd rather not have a heart attack. 😑 On the other hand, what if I sell out???  😱🥳

These little scenarios are enough to do me in sometimes. I think I've come up with numbers I can live with. Tables are only six feet. I prefer eight. Going to have to smooth my own edges here. 😄

Wish me well. Now, I need to put my little swag bags together.

Oh. Man. 😶

Always doing something with books...

Under pressure

I do this to myself. 

I mean, if I don't, who will? 😶 

I'm the writer and publisher. Simba's content to lay at my feet and sleep. What a life. 😊

Working on the billionaire romance and the third one wants to interfere before the first is written. Working on a dark fantasy romance. And after finishing one of these, I need to write the last book in my "Canary" series. That will be incredibly intense.

And then I have those moments I think all writers do. It's not burnout, it's more like full immersion maybe? Overexposure? Where you eat, breathe, sleep, sweat, and swim in your book and characters. You want to spread your beautiful pieces all over social media and share your creation and its fixtures. Like I want to explode like a freakin' piñata and rain down all the loveliness all over social media.

It doesn't work that way. Wouldn't it be cool, though? To have like an emoji of yourself? And a countdown? And then you're kind of like a piñata, and you beat yourself, and when you actually crack open, your social media would be flooded with the information about your book? Wouldn't that be AMAZING??? 

It's been said that authors should concentrate on a genre and play in it only. That's not me. That way they build their audience of steady readers who know what to expect. I am unable to make orange popsicles my entire existence. I need to make grape. I need to branch off into fudgesicles. I need vanilla cones dipped in chocolate. I need variety.

The fact I write in variety makes it hard for my neurodivergent self to keep up with social media and how and what I post. I've tried to straighten myself out. I am SO crooked. And people who have made a success of this state that posting on social media daily is as must!

I cannot fathom hitting up Insta, TikTok, X, and FB on the daily. argh

Good news is that I've sold books in the local bookstore and will likely do well when I head to Des Moines in a couple of weeks. I love the in-person events with other authors and readers!

I need to put my swag together soon and make sure I have the books I need to travel.

If you're an exhausted author, don't give up! We're a tenacious lot. And if you're a reader, what are your thoughts on social media? Does it influence you that much?

Always writing*

...and putting together swag bags...

 

Storms, stock, and starving

I go to my yearly doc visits. I go for my physical and med check. I go for my "well woman" because she prescribes the mini-pill that guarantees I don't have a period (last was Dec. 2019). I go for the boob squish. The last two, in particular, are not a good time.

But I go.

My PCP has been pushing a colonoscopy for quite some time. I put it off. For years. Finally, I agreed. Partly, because I heard there was a pill prep, and I cannot drink the liquid prep. I would throw it back up. It simply wasn't an option. 

My colonoscopy is tomorrow, and today is liquid diet day. I've never even tried a liquid diet. You know, for shit and giggles back in the day to lose weight. Never crossed my mind. Approximately three hours into this bullshit, and here's why...I need food. 😂

I picked up 7-Up, apple juice, beef broth, and chicken broth. I've had a cup of 7-Up, and I'm drinking my usual ice-water. The real fun doesn't start until five this evening, when I start taking the twelve pills every two minutes to start what I'll call "the clearing." By then, I'm sure I'll have lost my will to live. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, we do another 12-pill shot and drink more water. Then...NO WATER. I hope they can find a vein in the husk of a being I've become. 😒

This evening will also be a party, while I'm bonding with the porcelain, because Oklahoma is in the bullseye for a bad storm. Hail, long-track tornadoes, and lots of damage if things ramp up. I have my own anxiety, of course, then a large amount for my kids and gbabies who ALSO live in central Oklahoma. So all parts of my being will be on high alert. If I have to throw Simba into the bathtub while I'm still on the throne, it's going down. Nothing is cute when your weather map looks like this:

Wish me well today. I'll be chugging chicken broth, weather-watching, and *ahem* clearing things out.

Crystal*

Time capsule

We are time capsules. Historic caches of goods and information. 

I find that fascinating. Each one of us uniquely made to add something or several somethings to future generations. We do not have to have children to give this gift to. We can give to family members, strangers, or friends. 

No one in my family cares about writing books. But it's always my pleasure to stand in front of strangers and share what I know. If I've given them even one new thing to chew on, I'm pleased. There's a man on YouTube who has the channel, Dad, How do I? to show kids how to do things that their parents didn't or couldn't. Absolutely brilliant. Knitters. Carpenters. Mechanics. Poets. Cobblers. People sharing the best of themselves for others. 

Now. To bring it back home. 

I had an incredibly dysfunctional family growing up. So much history lost. There weren't family stories told to me, and I never understood why. Tight-lipped bunch of people.

But I've tried to raise my own to ask questions about things. Seek answers. If they want to know, then be persistent. I can tell you what I know, and I can try to work my way through those left who may be able to help. Because I want my people to be full. To have a good look of where they came from. Who they came from. What they carry with them. Or they can be the damn rebel and not do a whit of what came before. And good on them! But they need to have most of the picture before making a decision, and that's where we come in. 

We are living historical beings. Live loud and fully. While your own family may not follow in your footsteps, your mere being may make the entire difference in someone else's world. And we need that NOW...not just in the future.

Always writing*

...and philosophizing...

Weebles wobble

It's been roughly three decades (or so?) since I've been on a bicycle. The Honey has an electric one and wanted me to have one like hers. That's a hard pass because sometimes my wee brain goes into a fog. And the last thing I need to worry about is a throttle on a bike and accidentally pressing it. Because I would do this.

I would SO do this.

*ahem*

We bought a bike from WM forever ago. Had to take it into the shop for all sorts of minor issues. They fixed it right up. And it's been sitting in the garage since. Probably three weeks or so.

NOW.

She is a chill bike. Pink. Kind of looks like a beach cruiser. I even have a little white basket in front. 😊

Lovely.

I decide yesterday I'm doing it. Wasn't raining. Seventies. Slight breeze. Little bit of fear. Because I have a three year-old new right hip. She is comfy. We don't want to upset her at all. No jostling, bumping, and God forbid, falling.

Hop on the bike, the seat is ridiculously high. I lower it all the way down. Calm myself. 

I now need to work on my balance since I need to grab something with my left hand to swing my right leg, either over the middle or the seat, and have no balance. I am straddling the bike. M'kay.

All I need now is to trust myself to put my feet on the pedals and balance my weeblyliciousness. 😐

I can juuuuuuusttttt touch the concrete when I'm straddling it. I pull my legs up and wibble wobble for a minute until I straighten myself out.

Woot!

Feet are pedaling. I only go back and forth down the block. Turning is hazardous at first. Almost eat it when I stop to get a drink. Then that old meme comes to mind.

I would have fallen into grass and would have laughed at myself. But others would have probably been alarmed. 😂

Honestly, I felt pretty good on the pedals. A bit freer. Wind through my hair. Going to make her a part of my weekly routine. Here's to staying upright! 😁

Always writing*

...and trying not to fall on my ass...

I'm how old?

My age is a non-issue. I've already started thinking of myself as 53. (I did the math this morning. I'm 52. Either way...who cares?) Oh. Wait. I'll tell you who cares...my PCP. 😑

I should get my shingles shot along with my flu shot. Oh, and think about my pneumonia shot. AND...a colonoscopy. 🙄 I told Doc that I'll THINK about the shingles duo. But I finally caved on the colonoscopy. I am not happy. Next Tuesday is D-Day. C-Day? And my anxiety is all about it. Doesn't help matters I have this two-page instruction sheet about the do's and don'ts of the colon probing business.

I am, thank the pharmacological gods, taking pills instead of the nasty drinks brewed up. My gag reflex is no joke. But the prep starts five days out. I can't have my buttered pecan ice cream. Nuts and berries are verboten. 😩 Then there's this cool graphic about how my business will go from brown to clear. 😷 I can't wait. 

Moving on from my ass...It's already May. I have so much stuff to do. Getting ready for my book trip to Des Moines for this:

Incredibly excited about the event. Love these to meet other authors and ALL THE READERS! 

I'm off to watch the weather. Oklahoma has been going through it. Hopefully do a TikTok and maybe a Snapchat.

Always writing*