The furor in the family over the cookbook cover continues. Yesterday Colin doctored the cover to insert Kegan's face, only Kegan is wearing monster teeth (he's apparently fond of running around the house in them) and his head is too small under the hat and the whole things is too ugly--when my darling Kegan is so beautiful. Then Brandon took Colin's photo and furthered doctored it. And finally Jamie wrote that my publisher had sent him the real cover, which is titled "My Favorite Boy! How the love of one son can inspire an entire family . . . " I'm truly sorry that I couldn't get it to upload. I wrote a Marcia Daudistel, who follows my blog, about all this, and she suggested that small families don't have nearly as much fun as large ones. Jordan did tell me seriously that many of her girlfriends want to buy the book, always a good sign.
Tonight is one of those North Texas nights when you live in apprehension--will it really be icy in the morning? They're predicting freezing rain, subfreezing temperatures, and ice from early tomorrow morning through mid-day Wednesday. I have plenty of food and today did those errands that make you feel self-satisfied--the vet for dog and cat food, filled the car with gas, and picked up a prescription. Then, because it was already wet and nasty, I came home and hunkered down. I'm warm and cozy and prepared to stay home for a day or more if I have to. Of course, a power outage would change the whole story completely--and leave me without eat since my gas furnace has an electric starter.
I've been thinking a lot about point of view in fiction the last few days. I have most often written in first person, putting myself inside a female head--it's the voice that seems to come naturally to me and at which my writing is better. I think I mentioned recently my fear that you were supposed to graduate and I might never, along with the fact that my current mystery started out in third person and got much better when I rewrote in first.
But now I'm reading a mystery written in first person from a male point of view--and I don't mean to sound gender biased or anything like that, but I'm having a hard time with it. It's told by a man who's an undertaker--well, there's a bit of a problem in itself, still sleeps with his ex-wife, engages in pummeling with friends when they meet (He even says, "We men love that sort of pummeling."), drinks a bit too much, etc. I have a hard time identifying, whereas I quickly identify with the narrators of my cozies I read. There's no law that says cozies must be written by women, but they usually are. This has all the makings of a good plot, but I'm just not sure I'll hang in to the end--it's a fairly long mystery. Thank goodness I paid a dollar for it, used and on sale.
Just in case of ice, I ordered a couple of new books for my Kindle tonight (not that I don't have plenty of work to do, but this is the new, slower, lazier me). The beauty of the Kindle is that you can order the books and have them almost instantly.
An interest statistic: sales of e-books jumped 108% in the last--well, now, I don't know if it's quarter or year, but that's still an amazing jump.
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