Oh what a tangled website we weave

You need a website.

If you are a writer, an artist, or a business owner, this has become a physical law. I was given this pearl of wisdom years ago, perhaps in the Jurassic Era, when I was just starting out, writing articles for Riding Magazine.

So I went looking for a website tool, and found one where my email account was - on Yahoo. They had something called PageBuilder, which was pretty easy to use, and more importantly, pretty easy to update.

I confess, I'm a tweaker. Just as I like to tweak my manuscripts before I send them out to agents/publishers, I also like to tweak my website as I think of cooler things to do with it. So I built my site with PageBuilder and played with it constantly, until...

Yahoo came out with a new, improved tool called SiteBuilder and stopped supporting PageBuilder. This meant, if I wanted to continue to fiddle around in my webpages, I had to convert to SiteBuilder, which was only a little less complicated than converting to, say, Islam.

Still, once I learned SiteBuilder, it was again easy to manipulate and I was happy in my playground, until...

Yahoo came out with a new, improved tool and stopped supporting SiteBuilder. You'll notice I'm not naming this tool, mostly because at that point, I snapped and refused to rehost anything to a new platform. I dug in my heels and continued to play in SiteBuilder, even though I had to reinstall it every time I wanted to edit anything, which is at least once a week, due to updating my newspaper column pages. I still enjoyed SiteBuilder, but I constantly worried about the day when I couldn't make it work anymore and my website was frozen forever, just like that face I used to make that Mom warned me about.

Enter Jeremy Lee James, riding to my rescue on Write Click Web Hosting. I've known Jeremy for a long time, from the Southern California Writer's Conferences, and knew he was a webmaster extraordinaire. I also knew 1) he charged, quite rightly, a fee for designing a website, and 2) I needed more control of my website than he might be able to grant me.

However, Jeremy's newest invention, Write Click Web Hosting, allows a user to create their own site using Wordpress. Now, you can do this yourself by just going to Wordpress, but he gives your website a more hack-proof security system and provides daily backups, all for a small monthly fee. Yahoo was already charging me a small monthly fee for all the work I was doing for them, so I thought I'd try it out.

Working with Jeremy was a very good experience, in that he was ever-so-patient with my occasional lapses into idiocy. He has a bunch of video tutorials explaining how to do things, and I'd kind of watch them, then try things on my own and screw up. It's how I roll. Jeremy was always on the other end of an email, explaining calmly how to back myself out of the latest mess.

Things were smooth until we got to the part where I'm almost ready to go online with the new site. I had pared down my pages, cleaned things up, but my new site looks very similar to my old site. Here's the thing: Jeremy is a very elegant, classy guy who thinks that websites should look elegant and classy. And mostly, I think he's right. So when he sent me the email saying, geez, did I really want my new website to look so much like my old one, meaning kinda goofy and casual and distinctly NOT elegant, my first response was, wow, maybe not...

Then I looked in the mirror and said, "Who are we kidding?"

I explained to him that, while I agree in theory, in practice I am not elegant. I am a humor writer, even in my mysteries. I need to be a little goofy and irreverent and casual. My website needs to reflect that sense of whimsy.

God love him, he understood my point, and agreed.

My new website is now up (http://gaylecarline.com) and ready to be picked apart by the rest of the world. I'm always looking for comments as to how I can make it better, so don't just placate me with kindness. But don't slap me, either.

I'm going to end this post with links to websites of a few of the many authors I like, so you can see how their sites support their genres.

Andrew Peterson - thriller writer. His site points you exactly where you need to be at all times, kind of like you're the sniper's bullet.

Michele Scott - mysteries, women's lit, let's just say multi-genre. Her website is being redone, but even the temporary page gives you an idea of who she is.

Alexandra Sokoloff - horror, suspense, paranormal, creepy (her books, not her). You know you're not getting "light and fluffy" when you click on this link.

Christina Dodd - romance. Okay, I've never read a single thing she's written, but I love this website. I want to live there. Don't kvetch at me, I'm not a romance reader, unless you count DeAnna Cameron's The Belly Dancer, which is mostly historical fiction and really cool.

**OH, and for the record, I am NOT being paid or recompensed in ANY way for recommending Write Click Web Hosting. It's just something I'm using with a great deal of satisfaction. And none of the authors mentioned have ever done a darn thing for me in exchange for mentioning their books and websites. I'm just a giver.

How deep is your brand?

It all started this weekend, while I was in our bathroom, putting on my make-up. We were getting some kind of movie channel for free - we never pay for the premium movie channels, but Dale will watch them during those Subscribe Now! weekends. The latest Mission Impossible movie had just ended, I had stopped picking it apart, and Dale had left the bedroom, probably to escape my witty-yet-annoying commentary. Another movie started, but which one?

The stars rotated around the screen: Paramount Pictures presents. Then came an idyllic scene that might feature happy bunnies, except the music sounded like ominous and depressing drumming, along with a dash of moaning. I was pretty sure happy bunnies would not like this soundtrack, even if it was from Shangri-La productions. At that point, the idyll was replaced by what looked like a wall of dark rock, all grey and rust tones, with another company's name - ImageMovers on the screen.

"Oh for pity's sake, just tell me what movie it is," I told the TV. Then my brain said, I'll bet this is Beowulf.

Guess what? My brain was right. It was that hot mess from a couple of years ago that kinda sorta told the Beowulf legend in pre-Avatar live yet animated effects. Not only did I not see the film, I didn't even pay attention to the trailer, except to note that Angelina Jolie had taken her clothes off again.

But apparently the trailer had reached a piece of my brain, enabling me to recognize the movie from the music and the image of that rock wall. Either that or I'm psychic, and I'm pretty sure I can't see the future. If I could, I'd have better luck in Vegas.

This event dovetailed with a conversation I had at the SCWC with Andy Peterson. He's the author of First to Kill, a great thriller that was released in 2008. His next book will be out this year, featuring the same characters, and we were talking about writing series.

"My next book will be 'Forced to Kill'," he said. "To link the titles together. Are you doing something like that after Freezer Burn?"

Until he brought it up, I hadn't thought about giving my books similar names. I remember Barry Eisler talking about how much he hated his books' names, but the publisher wanted to capitalize on his character, John Rain. So there was Hard Rain and Rain Fall and Rain Storm, and - well, you get the picture. Clever, but nothing about the names told you they were thrillers about a Japanese/American assassin.

Barry's books were problematic for me, because I couldn't keep them straight and kept ordering the same one. Even Sue Grafton's alphabet series gets dicey for me. You can jump around from letter to letter, but I don't always associate the title of her books with the plots, and I find myself asking if I've read B or D.

That's the main problem with series, at least for me. If the title doesn't suggest something about the plot, I'm liable to forget whether I've read it. I bought Patricia Cornwell's All That Remains, read it, and almost enjoyed it (the ending felt unsatisfying). Then, I bought it again, because I loved the title and didn't remember reading it. By contrast, I bought Point of Origin, enjoyed it well enough, but won't buy it again because I know Point of Origin has to do with fire, and the plot has to do with fire. Voila! The memory connection has been made. Oh, plus they burned a bunch of horses in the plot and I'm still just a little sick about that, even if they are pretend horses.

So my first book is titled Freezer Burn, because it revolves around what is found in a freezer and how the twists of the mystery burn our heroine. The second one is tentatively titled Hit or Missus, because Peri must investigate a group of bored, rich women who may or may not have an Assassins-for-Hire business.

Having said that, I felt a sudden pang during my talk with Andy, as if I had done something wrong and needed to go home and figure out a title that plays on 'freezer' or 'burn'. I mumbled words about how I may have to think about it, and nothing's set in stone and sometimes publishers change your title anyway. Then I had a glass of wine and thought about my 'brand.'

By the next day, I had a plan of action. I would continue to give my books titles that represent their plots, but I would work with my publisher to include the bloody hand and martini glass on each cover. We could make it a game, like the Playboy bunny on the magazine. (Calm down, boys, I sincerely doubt ANY of my covers will look like Playboy.)

I'd love to hear some discussion about this - do you have any problems remembering individual books in a series? Do you like them to have similar or different titles, or does it matter? What do you think of my idea to tie my books together?

Or if you want, just stop by and say hi.

I was back in a flash...

I got back from the San Diego SoCal Writer's Conference, and really hit the ground running, as they say. Yes, it's a cliche, but do you know a better way to describe getting back into town just in time to complete the arrangements for my son's choir's dinner theater? I was in charge, which meant fielding phone calls, assigning tables, decorating, running errands, talking to the caterer, and making sure everything ran smoothly on Thursday and Friday nights. I'm happy to report that we've got one night down, and one to go, and it was perfect. I couldn't have been happier with the adults and the children who volunteered. If you want to see my son's choir, go here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsTKbM-9k78. They're amazing.

But let's talk about San Diego. It was fun, as usual. I got to hang out with my publisher, Karen Syed, who is just so funny and outspoken, and my friend, Alicia Bien, who makes me laugh until I cry, and Claudia Whitsett, who is really nice. And, of course, there were Michael and Wes, fun folks to decompress with at the end of the day.

My very first workshop this trip happened by accident. I meant to go hear Andy Peterson talk about how bad you can make your good guy, but instead I went to the Flash Fiction workshop with Julie Ann Shapiro. I was so surprised at falling into the wrong room, when she asked if I'd ever done flash fiction, I couldn't think of a thing.

What a dolt!

First of all, I LOVE to enter the SCWC Topic contest every year, 250 words of any kind on the topic chosen Friday night. I've been to 6 SCWCs - I've won three and been runner-up once. I entered the Southern California Writer's Association topic contest once, and won that. Let's face it, I'm very popular at 250 words.

At a little longer, I was also runner-up in the WOW-Women on Writing flash fiction contest, with my entry, "Quarter Life." Here's the interview I did with them when I got my award: http://www.wow-womenonwriting.com/2009/02/interview-with-gayle-carline-runner-up.html.

When I write one of these little ditties, my good buddy, Kip Mistral, always emails me with the same question: How do you come up with this stuff? My answer is always the same: Many things remind me of many things.

I thought perhaps I'd use one or two of these posts to discuss how I think of these things, in a little more detail.

During the Flash Fiction workshop, Julie produced a group of trinkets: fur boas, plush stars and butterflies, foamboard crowns and pirate hats. She challenged us to write a 100-200 word story about one or more of these things. Here's what I wrote:

"The boa slithers across her arms and around her waist. It is yellow and matches her outfit, what there is of it. She clings to the pole on the stage, gyrating to her heartbeat while speakers spit out a seductive dirge.

The fat man is here today. He sits in front and lets the drool slide down his mustache, his rheumy eyes feasting on her body, but not her soul. Today, she smiles at him, white teeth surrounded by crimson. She leans forward and lets her boa drop from her shoulders, feather light as she drapes it around his neck. His eyes, bright with desire, open wide. They continue to bulge as the snake tightens its grip."

How did my mind work with the materials? First, I think you should know I like my stories dry with a twist, so I don't want a straightforward tale of a pirate or a butterfly or a queen, etc. Let someone else do that. I looked at the fur boa and began to think about a boa snake. But who could hold a feather or real boa? Hmm, an exotic dancer. That put me into a strip joint, at least as I've seen them in the movies (no, I've never been, but that's another story). Then I wondered how I could write a tale that made you wonder what kind of boa the girl was holding until the last possible moment.

What do you think? Did I succeed?