Posts Tagged ‘#frustrated’

I’ve been asked a couple times what my process is for writing a book, and this is the best way I can think of describing it.

Writing a book is like being in a relationship.

<The introduction>

The moment the book idea pops in your head. It’s exhilarating and new. You’re shy at first, afraid to tell many people about it because you’re unsure of what’s going to happen.

<Honeymoon stage>

Writing begins, the first draft. This is it. You’re committed and it’s shiny and new. Your book takes over your life. It’s all you think about, and you will ditch the 3 F’s, family, friends, and food to be with it. It brings a smile to your face. You want everyone to know about it. You’re proud and it’s yours.

<Middle of the relationship>

The first draft is done. You’ve reread it until you’re eyes have gone cross. You find annoying traits you’ve never noticed before. Words are repeated, and if you see it again you’ll pull your hair out. You attempt to change it to make it better, and you do, it’s just not the same as it was in the beginning. You’re both growing and learning about yourself. In truth you’re kind of over the whole thing, and there are times you hate it with a burning passion. But you stick with it. You try to recall the giddiness of used to elicit, and sometimes you do. You read a sentence or chapter that reminds of you why you loved it in the first place.

<Couple Counseling>

You need help. You need someone else with fresh eyes to take over. You send it to your editor (counselor) It’s nerve wracking. You’re letting someone else in your relationship, and you’re hoping they will tell you it’s salvageable.

<Break up>

It’s time to publish. You’ve done all you’ve can, and it’s time to release your book. You will always have fond memories of your time together, but you can’t do anymore. You’ll put it out, and hope someone will see the beauty in it you did. You helped create it so you’ll always be proud of it. It’s heartbreaking, and a relief at the same time. You may go immediately into another relationship, or wait a while before starting the whole exhausting process again.

<Rekindle>

Not all the time, but every once in a while you take your book back. Maybe you saw something else that would make it better. Whatever the reasons it is still going to end up in a breakup.

My advice is keep getting into relationships. Don’t stop writing, and be happy with every break up. Be proud.

Life is shorter than a little person standing in a hole. Even if you believe in heaven or reincarnation or any of that other nonsense, this is the only time you’ll be you. So make every day you’re you the best one you can. You’re only you once.

BOOK LINK

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So I waited. My two cents are mine, and really what the fuck can you buy with two cents?

At first I was going to write something awful and demeaning toward the cocky author. Something along the lines of…

Get me some syrup because I smell a major twat waffle. Mrs Cocky maybe you should stop writing and go teach victim 101. Where of course the space would limited as your ego would encompass most of the room.

But I didn’t write that. What good would that do? I mean it would make me feel better but this would just be another chapter in her victim text book.

So instead….

Let’s talk about branding. No let’s talk about books and specifically genres.

Stay with me there is a point to be made.

I will admit on my kindle there are way too many titles that include the words Highlander, Earl, Duke, pirate and many more historical romance verbiage. Historical romance is my jam. I love reading stories outside the genre’s I write.

The titles are a combination of those words. The earl highlander, the pirate Duke so on so on. I pick the books because they are in the genre I like to read. A lot of times it’s based on the title, because it lets me know what genre it’s in.

Now with the word cocky an image of an alpha male comes to mind. A cocky male who’s most likely is going to be a jerk. One who has slept with a ton of women and thinks he is Gods gift. He’ll meet a chick he fights with and in the end they will find they can’t be without each other. This is a genre MANY people like to read. The alpha male is one most women want to conquer. Why not read how others have done it.

Why stop at one book? Why not read them all?

When readers who enjoy the alpha male romance see the words ALPHA COCKY DICKSLINGER they know what they are in for. And if they enjoy them they want more

And this may come as a shock but readers can read more than one book. WHAT? NO! REALLY?

And readers will read what they like. I will admit I don’t just read historical romance I branch out, but I know what genres I like. And that’s what I spend my money on

I read more than one author. AND SURPRISE SUR-FUCKING-PRISE most readers do as well. Especially avid readers. So unless our favorite author is publishing a book a day, because let’s face it people can devour a shit ton of books readers will need to read other authors.

Why would you want to alienate authors from your genre? This doesn’t make sense.

I write rock’n’roll romances. My books are pretty far between each other (sorry. I promise Van and Jesse are coming) Why would I as an author not want my readers to read other rocknroll books?

Keep my readers immersed in the world of rockstars while waiting for the next JackholeSseries. Have them excited for my book by reading other rocknroll books and seeing what my characters get onto as opposed to other rockstars.

I don’t question my readers loyalty to the JackholeS if they read other rocknroll books. And I don’t think my readers are silly enough to buy a rockstar book and think it’s mine because of the title. I give my readers more mental credit. Also I don’t own them and would never think to tell them what they can and cannot read.

Also Amazon has this nifty little feature called the “read the sample”

This feature allows a potential reader free access to the first 10% of a book. At the end of the 10% the potential reader is given the option to pass the pay wall. They can decide if they want to pay and become a reader or they can pass and go onto another title. The reader has no loyalty to the book. And much to my chagrin Amazon also gives a reader an option to return the book for a refund before a specific amount of time with no questions asked.

With this any reader has the option to access a book. And just in case they did get confused because there was an innocuous word in the title. They can return it or not pass they pay wall.

This whole thing makes no sense. I’m not saying I don’t want my book to be the best rocknroll romance. Of course I want it to hit NYTBS list, but I’m not going to practice shady business to get there. I have enough faith in my books that they can make it there on there own without destroy anyone else in the process.

Also I would never talk bad about another book in my genre because different options are the spice of life. I wrote this post in 2016

https://itsjoysworld.net/2014/09/28/cant-we-all-just-get-along/

And I still feel the same.

So Cocky author suck on this cocky post. I hope you get over yourself and eat crow. Or should I say cocky.

night-vintage-music-bokeh.jpgIt recently came to my attention that myself and another comic are in fact using the same me too joke.

Because this person has a bigger career and they did it on TV they’ve claimed it. And that’s….Hollywood.

They beat me in the equivalent of, I licked it it’s mine.

And through this whole thing all I could think is, damn I wish they would have jerked off in front of me and came on my face. It would have hurt less.

Now, I will go on the comedy record and say, I’m not accusing this person of stealing. It was a very easy set up and punchline. Butt fuck (two t’s on that butt) it hurt.

This is my goodbye to that joke. I refuse to be labeled a hack by using others jokes.I just hope my tongue is quicker next time

This is a my story of how I ended up in Facebook Jail. I didn’t realize how many people have similar stories, but this is mine.

Let’s start from the beginning….

I met Mr. Facebook years ago. I was a stunned by Mr. Facebook’s good looks. His dazzling blue eyes (get it? Facebook’s logo is blue)and his immense social media presence. I wanted to be a part of Mr. Facebook’s tribe so I timidly joined in.

Wanting to be in the Facebook family I hastily checked the, I Agree, button on the large contract that was thrust in my face. Admittedly, I didn’t read the fine details on Mr. Facebook’s firm rules of conduct. Even if I did I would have still signed on.

Mr. Facebook lured me in. Asking me about my day. Asking me what I was thinking. He encouraged me to share pictures of my loved ones, of my ups and downs, and allowed me to connect with people in his tribe so easily it was mind boggling.

Throughout our relationship I started to notice that Mr. Facebook had some dominant tendencies. There were times he would hide my pictures and my posts. He also was known to hide my friends posts from me as well. It started to get really fishy when Mr. Facebook asked me for money in order to show my posts to the people who would enjoy them the most.

Mr. Facebook isn’t alone in his reign of control. He employees ugly smelly trolls to search for things that Mr. Facebook would deem wrong in his pristine little community.

On Halloween I felt the full extent of Mr. Facebook’s wrath. I posted a picture of a weenie dressed as a ghost.

 

No longer was I in Mr. Facebook’s good graces. No longer did he want to know what was on my mind.I was summoned into Mr. Facebook’s lair to receive my sentence. His right hand man pulled me into the room and threw me on the floor scoffing at me in disgust. I’m not positive, but I think Mr. Facebook’s henchman’s name was the notorious Grammar Nazi.

Mr. Facebook came in wearing low slung jeans and no shirt (a la Christian Grey style) The troll that turned me in was lurking in the shadows to remain anonymous. Only their putrid smell was present.

“What should we do with her?” Grammar Nazi hissed kicking me with his steel-toed boot.

“It was just a joke. The weenie was covered. There are worse posts than that. Hell, look at the nasty political posts, and pictures of abused animals,” I cried wheezing on the floor.

“Silence,” Mr. Facebook roared. “Solitary confinement for four days.”

I opened my mouth to fight for my right to publish what I wanted to on my own account. To explain I was a grown woman that had grown out of time-out. Before anything could leave my mouth, Grammar Nazi stuffed a ball gag in it.

I was hefted up and dragged down a dark dank hall kicking and screaming. I heard Mr. Facebook and the troll cackling over my gurgled cries.

Grammar Nazi pulled me through a cement room where women of all shapes and sizes were pressed against the wall throwing him the evil eye. A single light bulb hung in the middle of the damp room. Before being thrown into a tiny room in the corner, Grammar Nazi wrapped my wrists in thick black tape behind my back. He forcefully pushed me into the little room and locked the door, telling me he would be back in four days.

Tears raced down my face, running around the ball gag. The salt coating my tongue.

“Psst, don’t cry doll,” a woman whispered to me.

Even though I was locked in a little room, I was still able to see the people surrounding me. My eyes locked on a woman with a sad smile trying to soothe me.

“We’re all in here because we did something to piss off Mr. Facebook. I’m Sydnee by the way.”

My eyes looked down at her trying to figure out what she did wrong. She must have been able to read my face, because you answered my silent question.

“I liked too many things. Mr. Facebook took away my ability to like anything for three days. I get my thumbs back tomorrow.”

My eyes widened in horror when I she raised her hands up so I could see them, and noticed her thumbs were taped to her hands.

“It’s not so bad. I could have been, Greta.” She pointed to a woman trapped behind a glass partition. Her hands were pressed against the glass as she stared longingly at the women in the room. “Greta,joined too many groups too fast for Mr. Facebook’s liking. She can’t join a group for seven days. Poor girl.”

The woman shook her head as she pointed at another lady leaning against the wall. “That’s Susan.”

The woman Sydnee was pointing at raised her hand in a wave. Half of her fingers were taped down at the knuckles, her thumbs visible.

“Susan posted too many posts for her book. Mr. Facebook took away her ability to post. She can still like things and comment on others posts.”

My mind spun as I looked around at the women stuck in the jail cell. There were so many all of them stifled in different ways, because they did something to anger Mr. Facebook.

Now as I sit here in Mr. Facebook’s jail. I watch other people post pictures and jokes and have no means of communicating with them.

Be CAUTIOUS of Mr. Facebook’s rules, or you can end up in jail.
AND

BEWARE OF THE TROLLS. THEY LURK ABOUT EVERYWHERE………