A bit of this and that

Two Elmer Kelton titles keep going through my mind. The first is his classic novel of the 1950s drought, The Time It Never Rained. More apropos now is the article titled, “The Time It Always Rained.” Today I don’t know which one applies. We were supposed to have rain, but it was sunny and pretty. Now I hear it’s going to hit at two o’clock in the morning. And rain all day tomorrow. Today Houston was hit again, and I have texted to ask about my kids in Tomball, northwest of Houston.

A saying about the rain that I loved and stole from local sage, Tom James, who runs for Fort Worth Memories and History page on Facebook: “The humidity just suddenly burst into rain.”

And going back further in time, this from Galileo: “Wine is sunlight held together by water.”

Yesterday I wrote 443 pages of dreck and was most discouraged. Today I wrote 1500 words of what I think (and hope) is good copy, and I’m feeling more confident about the new project. I may finally have the voice where I want it. At least it’s a good start. And I feel that old, familiar compulsion to make every minute count for the project at hand. My kind of fun.

Tonight I am both alarmed and amused by trump’s antics in the UK. I do feel that the media watches like a hawk for a chance to catch him in the slightest mis-step, and in England he made several of them, that gosh-awful tux not being the least. I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for him, because he brings his grief on himself. But a part of me wonders if he is even capable of recognizing that. Does he really believe that those huge crowds were cheering for him? Is he in denial?

I watched the press conference where he and Theresa May took questions. He read his opening remarks in a mechanical fashion, without inflection. When I mentioned that to friend Mary last night, she said, “At least he can still read.” Missing her point, I said, “Well I suppose they deliberately used small words that he could handle.” And she repeated, “At least he can still read.” Then she added, “He soon won’t be able to,” and I saw where she was headed. She believes, as many of us suspect, that he is in the early to medium stages of dementia, losing what they call “executive ability”—the ability to manage our own lives on a daily basis. Reading, writing, thinking clearly, even dressing ourselves. I do think it’s time for an impartial assessment of his cognitive abilities. I had a dear friend some years back who was diagnosed with “mild cognitive impairment,” and he made a lot more sense than much of what trump says.

Today he told the prime minister of Ireland that he liked the millions of Irish living in America and added, “I know most of them.” Out of touch with reality—and scary for us.

The Confession No Author Likes to Make

Texas author Robert Flynn once said to me that having a book out of print is like having a child that you never see (this was long before digital publishing kept books in print forever). I think that’s sort of how many authors feel about their books—they’re children we’ve sent out in the world to make their way, with our help via marketing.. And when they don’t find success, you grieve for them.

My latest novel, Pigface and the Perfect Dog, isn’t finding the love that I thought it would. I worked really hard to promote this book in advance—guest blogs all over the place, a Facebook campaign, etc. Big launch party, which was lots of fun and accounted for a good portion of the sales to date. It’s been out two months and has one review each on Amazon and Goodreads. Its sales are nothing to brag about, although people who’ve read it tell me they really enjoyed it. No, I’m not whining, nor am I asking you to rush out, read it, and review. I’m trying to analyze why it isn’t doing as well as some of my other books.

Pigface is second in a series, so it’s not the difficulty of engaging readers in a new series. The first book, The Perfect Coed, did quite well, thank you. And I really like the cover of Pigface, especially the display type. It has a cute puppy on the cover, and animals supposedly always attract readers. So there’s a double boost—a dog in the title and a dog on the cover.

I’ve concluded the title is misleading. If I had to categorize Pigface, I’d call it a dark cozy. It still fits the cozy genre pretty much, though one review pointed out that the language is a tad stronger than most cozies. There’s no gruesome violence, though there is an on-scene non-fatal shooting, and there are one or two quick glimpses into a personal relationship before the bedroom door closes. Still, it’s much more cozy than thriller.

I thought the title was so clever when it came to me one day like a bolt out of the blue. One of the bad guys, unknown to him, earns the nickname Pigface, and dogs, two of them, are prominent in the story. The title also fit in with the use of the word “perfect,” established in the first book, so it gave the series some continuity. But I fear that people think it’s a kid’s book. The Pigface term is misleading and may conjure up everything from Animal Farm to Babe. It apparently doesn’t conjure up visions of a mystery about open-carry protestors and darker matters. My bad.

Titles are hard. I’ve always thought they came to you, as this one did, unexpectedly, sort of an instinct thing, and then you better, by gosh, stick with it. Apparently, I need more research. There are several online sites with good, solid advice on picking a title, with many warning it’s the most important marketing decision you make. Oh gosh! It’s too late to change the title, although I did read about an author whose book title was Astro-Logical Love; she did a bit of editing and changed the title to How to Satisfy a Woman Every Time. Sales tripled. I think this is a case where I say, “Oh well,” and plow ahead, marketing as I can. Next time I’ll be more thoughtful about a title.