Who Died and Made You an Expert? By Lorca Damon

If you’re ever unsure of the intelligence of the average human, go check out the comments section of any article on Yahoo or video posted to YouTube. It’s like the internet has given people the necessary anonymity to say whatever dumb thing pops into their little minds. Sadly, the same thing is true for book reviews.

Everyone who’s ever read a book is now an expert on writing, thanks to the ability to post reviews on the online sales pages of books. Whether you actually read the book cover-to-cover or if you just walked by the display in your local bookstore, you’re now able to write your comments for all the internet to see.

In the interest of full disclosure, here is the most aggravating review of my own book on autism:

“This book was okay if your child is younger. My son was diagnosed at age six and I had already put into place most of the practices discussed and was past other stages. If your child is older than 2, I recommend books by Ellen Notbohm and Paula Kluth instead.”

Let’s dissect this: first of all, her child is older than my child. HOW WAS THAT MY FAULT? You gave this book a 3-star review, thus dropping its status, because you squeezed your kid out before I did? Then you proceeded to completely shanghai my Amazon page with a COMMERCIAL FOR A DIFFERENT BOOK. That’s like me going to the Amazon page for THE HOLY BIBLE and writing, “Y’all should totally read The Torah, it’s way better.”

Now, I realize this sounds like me just venting some anger at a pointless review. Let me be the first to assure you that it’s not the case. I have two UGLY one-star reviews from people who absolutely hated my book and I respect them for having strong feelings about a topic and trying to share those feelings with others. I don’t like what they had to say, obviously, but I respect their opinions. This crappy review above, however, was just unnecessary.

As readers, we should make our points clearly and succinctly. I agree that having forked over some of my hard-earned cash to purchase a book does give me some right to voice an opinion on it. But as writers, we should stick to an honest evaluation of the writing in a book we review. I can read a book on a topic I don’t really care about but still be able to intelligently appraise the book’s value. I am literate enough to understand whether or not other readers will be able to appreciate the book or if they will have to put on their hip waders to muck their ways through its poor editing and outright rape of the English language.

Reviewing a book is an awesome responsibility. As a reviewer, I may unwittingly encourage one to spend their money or worse, stop someone from reading a life-changing book. It’s not a job I take lightly, and I would hope that other writers feel the same way.

 Lorca Damon is a teacher in a juvenile correctional facility and staff writer for GoodEReader.com. Her first non-fiction title, Autism By Hand, is an Amazon bestseller and her first fiction title, The Earth is for Dancing, was recently published as well. She is also one of the funniest people I know.  You should stalk her at

Her website:  lorcadamon.com

Twitter: @LorcaDamon

Good E-Reader goodereader.com

You Wrote A Book? You? Justin Bog?

There have been a few strange and funny reactions to the news that I published a book, Sandcastle and Other Stories -- finally. I know my friends are happy for me, family too. If you're following my life writing, I grew up in a family that usually doesn't praise good news. We move onto something more worthwhile to speak about when together, like the state of the world, the evening news report, eschewing graciousness like pros. 

I don't take this personally -- it's a stolid Midwestern trait; don't toot your own horn, and don't express any emotion when someone does toot his or her horn. Boy, am I guilty of that now. I've toyed with the idea of constructing a sandwich-board sign so I can walk the downtown Seattle streets on weekends with the words, in all caps, saying: BUY MY COOL BOOK -- don't think I haven't thought about it more than once. Maybe I could write off the expense, add a bell to ring. It is what it is. But, WHOA, my little brother, for the first time I can recall, wrote me an email saying what a great accomplishment the book is. Loved that. Goes into the saved email folder. Yin and yang. 

My father, who is the artist who created the painting the Sandcastle and Other Stories book cover art is taken from, couldn't even see the book because he has a Nook, but he was really happy; he is my number one creative influence, and he understands all the long hours that go into creating a work that someone will look at for a second -- read in my case (or not) -- and form a quick opinion, good or bad, and then keep on moving to the next bright and shiny bauble. 

Usually people love to share negative thoughts more than positive. Why is that?

Thank you, Kelly, for giving me a space on your blog to speak about writing, my writing life, Sandcastle and Other Stories, and the reactions people have to the news. I love this saying: If you want to clear a room, a French cafe, or a crowded beach, yell: "I've got a manuscript!"

I've said this before on my own blog: it's hard to get someone to read short fiction. Most people, readers, wouldn't think about choosing a collection of short stories to read; to them the novel rules. Time to read must be found too, and in this busier Social Media world, fewer and fewer people sit down to read books.

One of the first people I told, one of my closest family friends, even said this to me the next split second, putting my news off immediately, when I was calling to tell her about Sandcastle and Other Stories finally being available at Amazon. The first response to my happy news was, "I'm also getting my photographs ready to go to form my own book this Summer. It'll be a collection of the best floral photos from my blog paired with great quotes. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Yes, that's terrific."

She went on, "I can't wait to get this book out." Now she was completely oblivious to the fact that I had just called and said, hey, I just published my first ebook.

I steered the conversation back, "It took a lot of time to get Sandcastle and Other Stories out, get all the behind-the-scenes things like formatting, book cover, final copyediting run-throughs finished."

"Well, you know, Justin, I don't like reading short stories." All I thought was: Thank you for being a friend. And that song played in my head all day.

I listened some more and nodded and hung up with the dazed expression of the blindsided. I have longtime friends through Twitter, Facebook, Triberr, who have never replied a word about it either -- too busy. Everyone is on a separate journey, and I don't take it personally, even if I'm sharing these quirky response stories here -- I'm a follower of The Four Agreements, its philosophy, a book I recommend to everyone. 

I do get wonderful reactions as well. A tennis mate just told me he finished reading the stories. He only reads the classics, is on a Sinclair Lewis binge presently, but he took the time to read the ten tales. He said, "The short story Sandcastle..." ~then he mimed a WHOA~ "Your writing has a good cadence."

The other funny reaction came from a couple who I met not too long ago, from Southern California. Steve, took a photo of his wife, Sharon, in a nice nightgown (all proper!), holding up her kindle; her shocked expression was hilarious. The photo caption: Reading the end of Sandcastle.

The best to you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the tales if you end up reading them. I highly recommend them. If you have your own stories out, please let me know so that I can congratulate you; just point me in the right direction, but, please, don't tell me on a beach or in a Paris cafe.

Justin---

Find me on Twitter @JustinBog 

Visit my blog at www.justinbog.com

Facebook Author Page 

Buy Sandcastle and Other Stories at Amazon by clicking here.

What's a Writer Without a Few Issues? by D.C. McMillen

The fabulous D.C. McMillen:

Thanks for letting me take up a bunch of space on your blog today, Kelly! I am so happy to be here. The change of scenery suits me, I think.  ;)

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on my sofa willing my boyfriend to shut the television off so he’ll stop distracting me with inane questions like, “Did he just say RPM’s? What’s rotating on that machine? NOTHING, that’s what! How big of an idiot is this narrator?” Of course I assume the question is rhetorical and so I don’t bother answering. Instead I offer sort of a murmur that will likely be construed as agreement.

What’s that? Why don’t I bother to move my ass off the sofa and go write in another room, you ask? Well, the boyfriend and I live in a 630 sq ft unit. Short of forcing the dog and cat to share the prime real estate that is our bed or locking myself in the washroom, there is not really anywhere for me to hide away inside this apartment. Yes, I’m aware I could go to the coffee shop downstairs and partake in their free internet but that would involve showering and running a brush through my hair. Besides, the boyfriend will leave for work, sooner rather than later if my Jedi mind tricks work their magic.

Okay, it’s time to fess up. Life’s distractions that often hit me in the form of an angry boyfriend yelling at Myth Busters or How It’s Made, an hour long conversation with my mother about whether or not going together for Botox injections could be considered a good bonding experience or just a fun night out, and my as of yet incurable Twitter addiction are only part of my writing problems. I’m in a mood for baring my soul, people, so now I am going to confess my real issue:

I am not an efficient writer.

Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself a talented writer (I say with only a hint of egotism). I simply go through phases that involve an extreme lack of discipline.

My stories usually start with a spark. I see a man on the subway, a picture in a magazine, or perhaps overhear a ludicrous conversation at the dog park and my creative mind cranks into overdrive. I reach for my laptop and the fingers start flying across the keyboard. After a thousand words or so, I look back over what I’ve written and begin formulating a plot, notes, and developments. Or not. Sometimes I dismiss the writing as pure rubbish. Sometimes I genuinely like the beginnings of my story but I am distracted by another prompt that turns me in a new direction. And then another. By the end of, say, a month I may have half a dozen stories saved on my computer that are nowhere near completion.

Obviously, this lack of follow through can make one feel a little discouraged. Now, if I was writing this confession even just a year ago, I might have replaced discouraged with utterly fucking hopeless. Thankfully I have learned a thing or two since I first started down this road. I may start several stories that go nowhere, yes. But then I write something that somehow grips me to the point that the characters will not let go until I have finished their story. I launch into a writing frenzy, barely popping up for air, and I don’t stop until I’ve typed the words The End. And then I delete the words The End because who really ends a story with that these days?

Luckily my lack of discipline does not extend to the editing phase. I’m not sure why this is but my current theory is that my brain does not consider the story truly complete until it’s out of my hands and sitting in the inbox of a publisher.

So, dear viewers, now that I’ve revealed my serious issues with writing, why not reveal a couple of your hurdles? Come on...we’re friends now, right?

D.C. McMillen lives in Toronto, Canada. She enjoys writing about dirty sex in questionable places but has been known to write about other subjects, on special occasions. D.C. is featured in MuseItHot’s Short & Spicy line up with The Rental and the upcoming story A Decent December. Her debut novella, The Rusty Nail, was recently published through Rebel Ink Press, and she is featured in several sexy anthologies.
D.C. is obsessed with Twitter and invites you to look her up at @mcmillendc, her blog, or on Facebook, where she goes sometimes.

You Really Gotta Know the Agent by Lorca Damon

Considering that I have recently been querying my dark humor novel And They Call Me Crazy, the following emeralds of wisdom from Lorca Damon are not only funny, but very timely.  Thank you for this one, Lorca!

Lorca Damon

I am an unloved writer. I’m one of the hordes of would-be novelists who is still trying to break through the Great Wall of Publishing, one brick at a time. The first brick: finding an agent.

I have to admit that I queried about one hundred agents with my first novel. I got only a handful of requests for the full, and then nothing. I put that book in a drawer, so to speak, when my life got busy with some super cool projects and changes. I actually pulled it out of said proverbial drawer last week and oh my god the writing is a bunch of shit. I sounded like I was trying to use every 25-point word I knew. And this was supposedly young adult. I wanted to beat me up for being such a nerd, and I wasn’t even a teenager.

Luckily, my writing got way better (See? I can talk like a teenager) and I wrote a book that an agent actually adored. Here’s how the timeline went:

Late April 2011: queried agent

Late August 2011: she requested the full

Late September 2011: the book won a contest that I forgot I had entered and the prize was a greenlight to submit to a major publisher; emailed the agent to let her know, we Skyped about it on video chat for an hour, we emailed a million more times; then nothing happened.

Late January 2012: heard from the publisher, they loved it but couldn’t publish it after their lawyers said the estate of J D Salinger will eat us all for breakfast; emailed the news to the agent, who said she finally decided the she loved it and wanted to represent it IF I made some revisions and we began another 50 back-and-forth email conversations.

Late February 2012: gently nudged the agent in an email to see if she liked those revisions; she said she did, but she still had some thinking to do.

Early May 2012 (more than a year after I queried her): gently nudged the agent in another gently nudging email; she responded with her concerns and said she would make a final decision by the end of the month.

Late June 2012: I still haven’t heard a peep

.

Now, this is where authors (especially successfully self-published authors) start to roll their eyes and talk about everything that is wrong with the industry. Yes, it moves at a snail’s pace. No, it may not be any more lucrative to traditionally publish than to self-publish. But I have to point the finger of blame once and for all:

This fell through because of me.

What? How is this possibly your fault, Lorca? You did everything you could! You entered contests! You kept in contact while still giving the agent her space? You made the revisions she asked for even though it was YOUR book! How could this possibly be your fault??? (I know what you’re thinking because I thought those same things for a while)

This is how it’s my fault: all my contact with the agent had been because of a referral, then through email and Skype. When I finally wandered over to her agency website one day to see if there was any news of her actually dying, I was horrified.

There were kittens all over it. Yes, pictures of kittens as the motif. She was a children’s book agent. She reps books (presumably) about kittens. I don’t write about kittens unless someone is having to eat feral cats to survive.

Despite learning that she wanted to branch out into YA fiction, I chose the wrong agent for the job. She had told me she was “having trouble getting behind my other projects,” which is industry lingo for “I may not be the right agent for your work.”

So? Suck it up and rep my book, right? Wrong.

I read an interview with an agent who had rejected the Harry Potter series when J K Rowling was just a lowly querying-stage author like the rest of us. The interviewer asked this agent if he was kicking himself now for not taking on the boy-wizard and the agent immediately and firmly said, “No.” His reason? He said those books never would have BECOME the Harry Potter series if he had taken the project, because that’s not what he represents. And that takes guts to admit.

People die in my books. Whole towns full of people. Dogs even die in my books, and not from old age or a rabies bite that he got while protecting the little kid. A teenager pulls out a gun and shoots the dog in my book. It was important to the story (I don’t just have a thing against dogs) but it was too disturbing for her. She wasn’t the right agent for my kind of books, and God bless her for even trying. She likes my writing, just not my subject matter. And that doesn’t make her unprofessional or a lousy agent. It makes her one of the best, in my opinion, because she’s willing to say, “I can’t take this book as far as it should go because it’s not what I do.”

  

Lorca Damon is a teacher in a juvenile correctional facility and staff writer for GoodEReader.com. Her first non-fiction title, Autism By Hand, is an Amazon bestseller and her first fiction title, The Earth is for Dancing, was recently published as well. She is also one of the funniest people I know.  You should stalk her at

Her website:  lorcadamon.com

Twitter: @LorcaDamon

Good E-Reader goodereader.com

Review: “A Land More Kind Than Home” @WileyCash

Take a young boy with autism who has ‘seen too much’ and add one manipulative preacher that has the boy’s mother under his spell.  Nothing good can come from that combination, and I have to admit, I couldn’t wait to read this book.  I expected the subject matter to be enough to make it interesting.  What I didn’t expect was the emotional journey the author took me on, and how the story would stay with me long after the reading. 

    

In “A Land More Kind Than Home”, Wiley Cash transports the reader to a small, Southern town and into the lives of Jess and Christopher “Stump” Hall, two young boys whose mother is a member of a church ran by Pastor Carson Chambliss.   When Stump sees his mother, Julie, in bed with the pastor, Chambliss decides it is time to free Stump of the demons that are at the root of his autism.  In the process of trying to heal Stump, he is killed.

In the first chapter, Adelaide Lyle, the town midwife, describes the church and Pastor Chambliss in a way that immediately lets the reader know this is not your average church:

“I’d seen people I’d known just about my whole life pick up snakes and drink poison, hold fire up to their faces just to see if it would burn them... Chambliss convinced them it was safe to challenge the will of God. He made them think it was all right to take that dare if they believed." 

 

And from there, the reader is constantly asking questions that cannot be answered. 

   

Wiley Cash, Kelly Gamble and Suzi Shumaker

Cash's choice of narrators is one of the most brilliant aspects of this book.  Adelaide has a history with the church, Chambliss and all of the characters, yet she isn't present at Stump's death and is unaware of the other events that lead to it.  Sheriff Clem Barefield, who has a story of his own, is looking from the outside, and Jess Hall, Stump's younger brother, isn't mature enough to understand everything that has taken place.  The reader never hears the thoughts of the evil Pastor Chambliss or Julie Hall, the one we would really like to sit down with and ask how she let this happen.  In other words, Cash didn't give us everything, and in doing so, the story stays with you long after that last page.

Without giving a spoiler, I have to say the ending was heart breaking and when I first read it, a bit shocking.  Now that I've thought about it more in depth (didn't I say it sticks with you?), it is disturbing in a way that something you can't quite understand tends to confuse you even more (kind of like how this paragraph has probably just confused you even more :).  This is a book to read with your friends and discuss later---and the more opinions the better.

        

A beautifully written, tug-at-the-heart story for everyone.

Visit Wiley Cash at  wileycash.com
Follow him on Twitter @WileyCash
Buy "A Land More Kind Than Home"

Also, check out my mini rant about Julie Hall, the mother character in "A Land More Kind Than Home" on Suzi Shumaker's blog 

This Book is Brought to You by the Letter 'C'

For me, the editing process is one of the most exciting aspects of writing.  Not only do you have the opportunity to really make your work shine, but if you have a bit of a sense of humor, it's a great opportunity to laugh at yourself.

There's always that one sentence that no matter how many times you've read your manuscript, someone else is going to catch.  In Ragtown, the line was:

 "Art lit his cigarette off Lance's butt."  (That is one hot butt!)

Then of course there is that one word that you didn't realize you used ten thousand times in a two hundred page manuscript.  In Ragtown it was 'exit'.  In Call Me Crazy it was 'just'. 

   

 So I've been looking for those sentences, those words and recently  discovered that my problem now is a letter. The letter 'C'.

As if the title Call Me Crazy isn't loaded with enough C's, I have characters named Cass, Clay, Benny Cloud, Claire and Clive.  The worst is Claire, because she is married to Benny. Yes. Claire Cloud.  Luckily, there isn't a scene where they all meet up.  Maybe if there had been, I would have noticed sooner:

Claire Cloud sat next to Clive at the cafe counter. She motioned to Cass who was chatting with Clay, the cook. "I could use a cold Coke like Clive's." (cluck, cluck, cluck)

Yes, I may have noticed my 'C' addiction had a sCene like this been in the book.  (I also would have thrown away my book of ideas and jabbed myself in the eye with a pencil).

So again, the benefit of editors, beta readers and not just rereading your manuscript, but analyzing it a bit for the little things.  Then laugh it off, reword a sentence, use another verb or, in this case, change a few names.

Trust me. You'll C a difference.

 

 

A Reminder From My Pets

I have a homeless kitty that lives in my backyard.  A victim of the mortgage crisis and bad owners, he was left on the street in my neighborhood when his owners were evicted from their house.  He had a sister, who I rushed to the all night emergency room in Las Vegas one night when she was hit by a car in front of my house.  Now he is alone, and has taken up residency in my backyard.

He is a beautiful animal.  White and blue-gray, thick haired and well nourished.  I put food and water out for him and my neighbor has a nightly milk bowl.  But he won't let me near him.  He's afraid of humans, and I don't blame him, after being put out as a baby to fend for himself.

My princess DeeDee

The last thing I need is another pet.  I have a Shar-pei, my husband has a miniature Yorkie and we are all owned by Mr. Kitty, the baddest cat in the land.  They are very protective of their 'people' and their yard and aren't afraid to do their job.  Mr. Kitty once scared a coyote away.  That's one tough kitty.

 

But for some reason, they treat homeless kitty differently.  It's as if they have adopted him, invited him into their home, and welcomed him with open paws.  Why is that? 

 

I have seen pets do some amazing things, and I know everyone else has a story or two.  But I think that my animals are exhibiting a trait that many would call a 'human trait'.  Compassion.  I think in their animal world, they appreciate the loving home they have and are willing to share a small piece of it with another that has been cast out.

 

Following their example, I have decided to make homeless kitty my project for the summer.  It's going to get very hot soon, and I would rather him come inside during the day with the others.  I know once I name him, he becomes mine, so I'm sticking with homeless kitty for now.  Maybe my Elly Mae instincts will prevail and I can get him to trust humans again and can find him a good home.  I hope so.

This morning, I walked onto the back patio and saw homeless kitty snuggled up between my Shar-pei and the Yorkie, while Mr. Kitty patrolled the yard. 

 

I had to smile.  My pets have chosen to welcome a homeless animal into their world and in doing so, have reminded me to be a little more 'human' as I go through my day.

Helping another that is down on their luck is a beautiful thing, even if they are a little different than you.