Some small “writerly” triumphs

 

Flowerpot cake by Mary Dulle
Photo courtesy Mary Dulle

The Guppy (Going to be published) chapter of Sisters in Crime weekly opens the listserv to NPV (non-publishing victories) brags from members. I usually don’t respond because I don’t have a lot to brag about these days—published or not, I’ve been in a long dry spell, partly because I spent a lot of time on the Helen Corbitt book that never became a book. But today I do have some small victories.

One that I simply forgot to publicize because I put it aside to later make a “big” marketing effort, as if I knew how to do that, is that my one collection of short stories, Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories, is now available on Amazon in audio version. It’s my second foray into audio publishing, but the first was not very successful, probably due to a lack of marketing. I vow to do better with this book. Short stories are hard for me—the idea has to hit me hard, and then I have to sit down and put it into words right away. I am in awe of people who write, “I am working on a short story.” I wonder how long it takes to write and polish 3,000 words. Yes, I go back and edit, but I almost never write a bit, put it aside, and go back and finish it.

Two of these stories, “Sue Ellen Learns to Dance” and “Fool Girl,” won Wrangler awards from the National Cowboy Museum and Hall of Fame, and one, “The Art of Dipping Candles,” brings me to tears every time I read it—a boastful things to say about one’s own writing, but it’s true. Try it.

Since my audio of Saving Irene was not the blockbuster I hoped, I had put aside the idea of audio, decided it wasn’t for me. But then Amazon made me an offer I couldn’t resist: a free audio version using AI. Now every author I know resists AI, fearful it will take over our creativity—and maybe our already published works. Plus it’s competition. AI can write a book much faster than the human brain can write, proof, edit, design, etc. Still, it was free. I tried it. Overall I thought the AI voice was acceptable—not great, but okay. In several instances, the inflection of a phrase or a word is not what I would have done, but I think the human ear may be less critical than the eye. The thing that most bothered me was the mispronunciation of Texas terms and place names. My AI “person” was clearly not a Texan. The town of Hereford became Her-e-ford, and the word cousie (for chuckwagon cook) was similarly butchered.

Since I’m blatantly marketing the book, here’s a link to the Amazon audio: Amazon.com: Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories (Audible Audio Edition): Judy Alter, Alter Ego Publishing, Virtual Voice: Books It’s also available in Kindle and paperback editions, but the paperback has a different cover, a Dorothea Lange Depression photo that is a classic. I like it better than the updated cover, but I’m told it’s not as marketable. Really dislike that aspect of the writing business.

Oops. I’ve gone on so long I’ll have to be brief about my second small triumph: today was the second of Mary Dulle’s two-part class on the cooking of Helen Corbitt. Mary did a masterful job with such recipes as turkey mornay and flowerpot cakes (Ladybird’s favorite), and I got to talk about the seismic changes in American food culture during the fifties and a bit how that affects us today, the Greenhouse Spa (if you don’t remember it, google it—ultimate luxury in the sixties and seventies), and Corbitt’s books. She wrote five cookbooks, all of them still available today. The class was responsive, had people who really took part, and it was fun. I am still intrigued by the Corbitt story and hope to find other things to do with it in the future.

Meantime, tonight, back to editing Irene in a Ghost Kitchen.

Monday's child

 

Tonight's light supper
copying my mom's salmon supper

Monday’s child may be fair of face, as the nursery rhyme tells us, but she also is hard at work, at least this one was. At least that’s the way it was around my cottage today. The wonderful Zenaida came to clean, do my laundry, and change the sheets; the yard guys came, and Sophie worked hard barking to warn them that she had their number and was on guard dog duty; and I spent most of the day working.

My main task today was marketing chores for Irene in Danger—getting the ISBN (international standard book number) for print and digital editions, writing a blurb, and writing a news release. I had fun with the blurb and came up with two versions—I’d love to know which one you like best for the back of the print edition and for the page listing on Amazon and other sites. Here are the two:

Want a French recipe? Irene will teach you to make salad niçoise. Want murder and mayhem? Irene seems to attract both. With one week until her wedding, Henny James is convinced Irene’s arrival from France will ruin the biggest day of her life. One week to save Irene from the trouble she brings with her and save the wedding. Recipes included.

And,

Irene Foxglove is back in Chicago, Henny and Patrick are getting married in a week, there’s cocaine floating around, and someone wants to kill the diva chef. Once again, Irene brings murder and mayhem to those around her, and Henny must save her. Good thing she has Patrick for help.

I’m thinking the first will go on the back of the book and the second on a news release, but I’d love some reader input here.

Writing the news release, I got caught up in reading review of the first book, Saving Irene, and found a coupe of people for whom that was the first book of mine they’d read but they said it would not be the last. Music to my ears. And I found one reviewer who made me laugh:

Saving Irene was my first introduction to the work of Judy Alter and the fact that I found myself talking back to the characters (Sorry, Henny, but no legit Italian cook adds oil to pasta unless they're making aglia e olio) says a lot for how real they felt to me.

Since I am into book news this evening, here’s the big event of the week: after what seems like years, my book on the Waggoner ranch, The Most Land, the Best Cattle: The Waggoners of Texas, will launch this Friday. I was thrilled to get an endorsement from cowboy singer and entertainer par excellence Red Steagall. Here’s what he said,

The majesty and intrigue of a ranch is of course invested in the land and livestock. But the true soul of a ranching property rests with the humans involved, both staff and owners. Judy Alter has done a magnificent job of explaining and describing the amazing family of the world-famous Waggoner Ranch, all under one fence

Tomorrow, Tuesday, Priscilla Leder will do an hour-long interview with me at 4:00 o'clock about the book on Radio Station KZSM out of San Marcos TX. To tune in, click on https://kzsm.org/ and then click play. I hope I won’t stumble over my words.

Thanks for letting me quote and brag and get carried away with myself and my books. I promise to be more circumspect in future posts. Meantime, this evening, a nice surprise. My longtime friend, Subie, called and was at loose ends for supper. I thought, with a slight sinking, she wanted to go out whereas after a day at work in my pjs, I had decided against getting dressed and intended to fix myself a light supper. I offered her three choices—creamed tuna on toast (no groans, please), salmon croquettes, or a cold salmon platter. She said any of those sounded great—my kind of dinner guest! —and I fixed two small salmon platters with pickled cucumber, hearts of palm, avocado, tomato, and hard-boiled egg. After I talked to Subie, I quickly put the salmon in the fridge to chill, put two eggs on to boil, and, yes, I put on cargo pants and a T-shirt. Not much of an improvement but better than pjs.

We had a lovely evening, lots of girl talk that ranged from family and food to politics. I’m ready for an early bedtime. Tomorrow is shaping up to be twice as busy as today.

The long road to publication

I’ve spent the last two days proofing two formatted electronic versions of Saving Irene, all with an eye to getting it posted asap on Amazon and various other web sites for advance orders. It will officially launch September 16, and I’ve been trying to do as much advance publicity as I know how—not a chore I excel at. In fact, Jamie, my salesman extraordinaire son, gave me lectures on salesmanship when he was here and recommended I get on Instagram. I’ve always avoided it because I thought it was all pictures, and I didn’t have that many. But a look at my various picture files convinces me maybe I’ve been underestimating myself.

But Instagram remains a mystery to me. I started a new account—Instagram had forgotten the username and password Jacob set up for me long ago—and got it installed on my computer. But then a tutorial (yes, Jamie sent it to me) is focused on using Instagram on your cell phone. I’m not that good at cell phone navigation, so I’m waiting for Jacob to give me lessons.

Meantime what I found with my new account is a list of people—none of whom I know—that I can invite to follow me. That doesn’t seem efficient or profitable to me, and I have no idea where to go next.

Yes, I am an old lady trying to figure out millennial technology, and it ain’t going well.

Back to proofreading. Before I sent the manuscript to my graphic designer for formatting, I read it so carefully. And yet I found all kinds of errors—Howard was called Harold at one point; in another instance I talked about a great cap when I meant a great gap. It’s really true—the eye sees what the mind wants it too. I have now read the entire thing, carefully, twice in the last two days, and I feel that I could recite it from memory.

The road to publication is indeed long. And I even shortened it a bit with this mystery, because a year or more ago I wrote 19,000 words before abandoning it for historical projects. So when I turned my attention back to it, in mid-April, I had a head start. I wrote steadily, at least a thousand words a day, until I had a final manuscript of about 65,000 words. More importantly, I wrote steadily until the story worked itself out—who did what and how the characters would react.

Next, I sent it to an editor, who made extensive comments, sent it to me, and I dealt with the comments. Then it went back to the editor for a final review. Meantime, I was looking for guest posts on blogs and make extensive notes about marketing, soliciting blurbs, and generally going about letting the world know that I have written a brilliant cozy mystery.

The graphic artist was the next step, and she required two weeks or more to work on it between more urgent projects, while I sat biting my nails. Now I think we’re moving toward the final step, and it will soon be available.

Will this book make me rich and famous? Almost definitely not. After more than a hundred books, from young-adult titles to historical fiction to mysteries and a scattering of nonfiction, I know better than to expect such a miracle. But that’s not why I write. I write because I cannot not write, because I enjoy the process (though sometimes I want to tear my hair out), and because I love the satisfaction of having written—yes, I’m like Mark Twain in that respect.

I accept that I am a third-tier author in the mystery field (I had much more credibility in the field of western American lit, and I’m not abandoning that). And it’s okay. Writing is a wonderful way to spend my retirement. It keeps me busy, actively engaged, and, I hope, young in spirit.

I hope, of course, you’ll read Saving Irene and then let me know what you think  about it. A review on Amazon, however brief, is always appreciated. But you know what, if only ten people read it, that’s okay too.

And if you have hints about Instagram, I’m open to anything.

The book that was snake-bit

Apologies in advance for a whiny post, but my latest Kelly O’Connell Mystery, the eighth, Contract for Chaos, was snake-bit from the beginning. The manuscript was finished, ready to go in June, with publication scheduled for early September. That left the summer for advance publicity.

I was “under the weather” most of the summer, so lethargic I barely turned on my computer. My publicist was distracted by severe illness in her family—she has nothing but my most sincere sympathy. Blogging and review opportunities were missed—I just couldn’t bring myself to write much. Contract didn’t get much attention, though I shared its terrific cover when I could.

Then I tangled with Amazon. I thought I was posting the book for advance orders before September publication; instead, they listed as published June 18—which calls to mind that old saying, “IF a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?”—and the listing said, “Limited availability.” Limited! I wanted to scream, “No! Lots of availability! Come one, come all!”

 Today, there was to be a guest blog, one I was rather proud of. It dealt with what a character looks like. I suppose most authors envision their characters in their mind—you must in order to get an adequate description. But you rarely actually see them. This time, I sent the designer several descriptive passages about Keisha, Kelly’s idiosyncratic assistant, along with a request to have her in the cover art. Thanks to artist Sherry Wachter, the art work came out spot on—Keisha was every bit as flamboyant and larger than life as I’d written her, and I was delighted to have put that into words in a blog post.

So the post this morning showed the cover (above) and talked about the agrarian myth as it relates to two previously published small-town novels: The Perfect  Coed and Pigface and the Perfect Dog. The agrarian myth, the concept that life in small towns is somehow more simple and pure, is really hard to relate to an urban novel about racism, complete with neo-Nazi protestors and snipers with deadly aim.

I’m not even sure if I should share that misplaced post wide and far or not. You suppose it would do the two earlier novels any good—or simple confuse people? Or worse yet, make them think I’ve finally gone off my rocker?

As you can tell, my health is better, my lethargy gone, and I’m energized—but frustrated. Sure, this is a subtle plea for each reader to rush to order Contract for Chaos. But more than that, I wanted to explore and explain how delicate and complicated indie publishing is. You can’t just put your book out there and forget it—it becomes like that silent tree falling in the forest, lost in the forest of books that are published daily. Authors often spend more time marketing their books than they did writing them. Gone are the days when you wrote, and a publisher publicized.  It’s enough to make a person take up scrubbing floors. Remember Erma Bombeck? Writing in pre-computer days, she said a blank sheet of paper always gave her the urge to scrub floors.

I’m going back to defending the Alamo. I guess some day I’ll have to explain that. Suffice to say now, I’m working on a book about the second battle of the Alamo.

Lessons in semantics

Some lessons in semantics lately have, I hope, made me more sensitive. But they’ve been hard lessons. Last year I published a novel titled Pigface and the Perfect Dog. The sobriquet Pigface refers to the major bad guy in the book. One look at him, and protagonist Susan Hogan is reminded of a pig. We’ve all seen people like that—fat, fleshy face, with beady pink-rimmed eyes buried in the flesh, small, pursed mouths. I didn’t think anything about it when I used the word. Susan simply turned when he bumped into her at the butcher counter, and her immediate thought was that he looked like a pig. The nickname stuck throughout the book.

Alas, that book was not my best-seller, and when I investigated, I discovered several people were vocal about disliking that term. Some said it was an insult to pigs. I am amazed I didn’t think of that—pigs are underestimated but truly intelligent and sensual animals. So, I’m guilty on that count. Others countered that in this age when most of us try to be sensitive to others, it was demeaning and nasty, and I can see that too.,I think it was like a lot of childhood insults—we still use them without thinking first. Finally, there was a Jewish friend who reacted because of her religion’s abhorrence of swine. I suspect that doesn’t count for many, but I respect her position.

Would I do it all over differently? I don’t know. I write by instinct, and that’s what came to me. It fit, and it made the title work and carry on the use of “perfect” established in the first book But authors have to look at the marketing side, and if I’d known that word would affect sales, I might have gone an entirely different direction. Of course, I have no proof that was the cause of the low sales. If you haven’t read it, take a look at Pigface and the Perfect Dog. I still think it’s a pretty good mystery.

Now to my current work-in-progress. Titled “Contact for Chaos,” it’s a Kelly O’Connell Mystery on the theme of racism. For shock value and to emphasize how awful it is, I used the n-word on grafitti and banners from the bad guys and, occasionally, from someone’s mouth. In fact, an early stab at a cover had grafitti with that word on it. Several people objected, and my editor wrote a long note about how that jars people, especially in the black community, and how they would particularly resent it coming from a white woman.

The fact that I used it to emphasize the negativity, to show how wrong it was, got lost in the discussion. I certainly can see why it would put people off on the cover, and I’m bowing to wiser heads and writing it out in the text—mostly writing around it, occasionally using “n-word” or “n-----.” Racism was a difficult topic to tackle, and both my beta reader and my editor have praised my handling of it, but I want to walk that difficult line between marketability and intellectual honesty.

It all reminds me of that childhood verse that began, “Eeny meeny miney moe.” If you’re old enough (as I am), you’ll remember the version I’m referring to.  If not, you know the sanitized version, probably from the sixties, and I won’t repeat the older one.

I fear that Americans of my generation unconsciously absorbed racism and its language, even when we knew better. I was raised on the South Side of Chicago, a diverse area if anything is, but I was early taught to respect all people as equal. Still I absorbed the attitudes of the day—in my case, fear—and the language, and though I know much better, those old habits come out sometimes. I’m working hard to banish them forever. It’s one of the many things we all must do in this troubled political climate.

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.

Death and taxes, and a lot of other things

No, no death. I just always thought death and taxes went together--maybe because both are inevitable.

It’s amazing what you can get done when your knee hurts when you sit down, stand up, or walk. I spent most of the day at my desk—okay, there was that nap—but I got a lot done. Yesterday I tried five or six times to post Murder at the Tremont House, #2 of the Blue Plate Café Mysteries, to Kindle. Finally gave up last night, and posted it successfully this morning. This means all three Blue Plates are available again as e-books. Check it out at  http://www.amazon.com/Murder-Tremont-House-Mystery-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B01AQULPHU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1453085593&sr=1-1&keywords=murder+at+the+tremont+house+KIndle. Please don’t be surprised at opportunities to buy it for over $1,000 in paperback. I’m never sure why Amazon puts those extravagant prices on out-of-print books. But Murder at the Tremont House is no longer available in print, except used copies. If you want to pay a thousand dollars for one, God bless you—but rest assured I get no royalties from those used sales.

People keep asking me what I’m writing. I’m tempted to say, “Nothing.” But my answer is that I’m “managing my career.” It’s true—I pushed myself for several years to write two or three books a year. Now I’m concentrating on marketing, making available titles that disappeared when my publisher went out of business. I’m blogging more and arranging blogs tours for Desperate for Death, which debuted this month as an e-book. I have two guest blogs to write by the 25^th—wrote one tonight and was totally dissatisfied with it. Will start over tomorrow.

And I’m planning ahead for the debut of a totally different novel, The Gilded Cage: A Novel of Chicago. It will launch in print and ebook in April, I’ll do a blog tour (yes, I’m working with a tour company that knows historical markets whereas I know mystery sites), and fretting every day about how to spread the word about this novel. I consider it my “big” novel. It’s Chicago history from 1847 through the Columbian Exposition, the Gilded Age which much like our own saw a great division between wealthy and poor. Central to the story are the Potter Palmers (he of Palmer House hotel fame). While Potter built a fortune and became a leader in Chicago politics and society, his wife worked to turn philanthropy into good deeds. Pardon me, but I think it’s a good story, and I’m excited about it. More to come later.

I also started on taxes tonight, answering the basic questions on the organizer and putting my bank statements into order so I can go through them easily. A yearly chore that I dread, but once I get started, I know I’ll move ahead on it.

I’ve been watching the Democratic debate with one eye and listening with one ear. They haven’t sunk to the level or anger at the Republican debates but I am sad that they are attacking and accusing each other-Clinton and Sanders, while O’Malley remains the voice of calm. I liked it better when there was a sense of collegiality.

Okay, enough work for the day. I just got Julie Hyzy’s Foreign Eclairs, and I’m going to read. Sweet dreams, everyone.

A book show-off instead of signing

We played 52-pick-up this morning. Had the day all planned, and it went awry. Jacob, who usually sleeps until at least nine on weekend mornings, was up at seven, watching TV. He finally admitted his stomach hurt. I fed him the chicken soup he requested, which didn’t stay down and, briefly, he thought he was better. But then he said he didn’t think he could go to church. So Christian went to church, while Jordan and I ate a light lunch. Traded books for the child, Christian took him home and put him to bed, and Jordan (my ever-efficient assistant) and I headed for the Author! Author! Event at church.

I had packed a few copies of each of my two new books, long with a very few older titles—plus a list of titles, flyer for the chili book, newsletter sign-up list, all the things authors take to such events. When the first person asked where to get my books, I said, “You can get them from me right here today.” Someone quickly told me we were not allowed to sell books, only display them. Honest, it didn’t say that in the instruction sheet, and I certainly would not have packed a heavy carton of books.

Still I think I did good marketing work—gathered names for my mailing list, passed out copies of the list of all my books, talked with lots of people, showed off the two new titles, and as much as I could talked up the signing coming up this Tuesday evening. Jordan is ever charming, introducing herself to people she doesn’t know, hugging those she does—someone once said she gives you the feeling she’s been waiting all day just to see you. She was as always a big marketing asset, this time freed of her money-taking chores. So it wasn’t wasted time. Another year, if they do it, I’ll make a case for selling books—one of the ministers said several people wanted authors to be able to sell, so there will be some support.

Good marketing lesson: that list of all my current books. I’ll amend it tonight with a note about my publisher going out of business and my need to put more books up in digital form. I have about decided not to do print on most of the mysteries since digital outsells print ten to one.

And the sick child is better tonight, well enough to go to school tomorrow. Don’t know what it was but sure hope I didn’t catch it.

Busy week ahead—that’s good. Book signing (with sales) Tuesday 5:00-8:00 at the Old Neighborhood Grill. Sweet dreams, everyone.