Popcorn for the brain

At one time in my youth, I pictured myself as a literary novelist. You know, the Serious Writer, who wears black and sits at the Big Kids Table. If you fast-forward a couple of years, you know that didn't exactly happen. I write humor and mysteries. They are not Deep Metaphorical Life Lessons. They are easy to read, digest, and perhaps forget. I only say that because, of all the mysteries I like to read, many of them are satisfying reads but few of them stick to my ribs.

I have no problem embracing who I am as a writer. When I am in the middle of writing, I am quite serious about finishing the piece, even if it is not a Serious piece. I do wear a lot of black because it's slimming (I'm told). And I don't believe it's sour grapes to think the Big Kids Table isn't as much fun as the Little Kids, where you get to tell jokes and spill stuff and then run off to play as soon as you've convinced the grown-ups you're FULL.

My son and I were talking about what it means to be an "independent" artist. There are people who grit their teeth and argue that self-published authors are NOT "independent authors". They equate the word "indie" with indie film and indie music, all of which takes a team of people and has some financial backing, so that more than one person has vetted the work and believes in it enough to get it in front of the masses. An indie author needs only to write a book, make a cover for it, and upload it on Smashwords. Ta.Da.

"Books and music are really apples and oranges," my wise, music-major son said. "Indie music was developed to fill a need for people who didn't fit the mold of popular, Top 40 stuff, whatever the style. It was for stretching the boundaries of what music should sound like. Although I'm sure indie artists wanted an audience, they were looking more for the niche, cult group of loyal listeners. Some groups even lost fans when they started to become more popular."

The other point he made about music that makes it difficult to compare is, with most listeners, as long as it's got a beat and the singer isn't godawful, it has a chance of being accepted. There aren't 'typos' or 'grammatical errors' to interfere with the listening pleasure, and it's so brief, compared to reading a book. It interests you for a few minutes or it doesn't and you move on. When you've invested several chapters into a book and keep seeing the author use it's for its, you get a little pissy. You don't listen to a song and tear at your hair, saying, "It should be E Major, you fools!"

At least, I don't.

This made me think about the music and movies made by "indie" artists. Sure, they're passed through a bunch of hands and developed using state-of-the-art technology and someone believed enough in them to toss money their way, but at the end of the day, they can still make dreck. Good-looking dreck, but it's like putting sewage in a Waterford glass. The packaging might look lovely, but the insides reek.

I think the self-published authors out there can call themselves Indies, without trying to fit into the film or music model. They are, for their own reasons, doing things the way they want them done. And no matter how many hands touch their manuscript, and how pretty the cover is, and how well formatted it is, they could be writing dreck. Vetting is no guarantee of quality.


So, just for the record, I'd like to state that I am an Indie author of mysteries and humor. My books are not going to fill your cultural cravings. They are popcorn for your brain.

Just like this:



BTW, I still don't know what it means, and I want the moves like Jagger.

Have a great weekend, and tune in on Sunday for another chapter of HIT OR MISSUS.

As Pooh would say, "Think think think."

I've been thinking about this a lot. I've been threatening it. But now I'm going to do it, Dagnabbit.

There's been a lot of discussion on the Amazon boards about e-books and Indie authors. A lot of people seem to think we all write like we've got boxing gloves on and the I.Q. of a stick. Then there are a group of people who are willing to wade through the Amazonian slush pile to find those rare gems of good books written by good writers. In between those two tribes, is a big fat group of Skeptics.

The Skeptics aren't afraid of Indie authors or their books, with one caveat: a low price means low quality. Where I've been swimming around in the pool of people who think 99 cents is a great price, there is a growing contingent of readers who won't touch a 99 cent book because it's like putting a big GARBAGE HERE stamp on the story.

Personally, I'm not convinced that a low price means low quality. I have a hard time, philosophically, in loading a book onto the internet for an infinite length of time and selling it over and over and over, for more than 99 cents. I mean, it's a marathon, right?

My sales of What Would Erma Do? are pretty brisk. I'd like to say it's because WWED is a good book (which I think it is), but I think the real reason is that it has shown up on the Top 20 of Amazon's Humor for Parenting and Families. When people go looking for humor, it's easier to find.

My sales of my mysteries are a little slower. Okay, a lot slower. I still believe in Hit or Missus (as I do Freezer Burn), but the mystery genre is a large ocean. Even when you narrow it down to Women Sleuths, my books are a small drop in the waters. It's harder to climb up the list, and therefore harder to get discovered, no matter what the price.

So, beginning November 1, I am raising the price of Hit or Missus to $2.99, which is the same price as Freezer Burn. If you want it at the 99 cent price, get it this weekend. As they say, move it or lose it.

I'm keeping my humor books at 99 cents, at least until I'm shown a good reason to raise their prices. If you can think of a good reason for me to hike my humor prices, by all means, let me know.

In the meantime, the mysteries are on the rise.

P.S. Please check out the Crime Fiction Collection blog. It's good. Trust me.

Dragging my feet... until I jumped

I did not want to be a self-published author.

In the old days, I saw what self-published authors produced. God love 'em, for all their good intentions, there was a sea of poorly written, badly formatted, cheaply bound dreck out there, all with hideous covers. My dear, departed uncle wrote a few books like that. He was a really good artist, but not such a good writer. I loved him, but couldn't bring myself to buy his books.

Thank you, no. I'll find a real publisher. Which I did, for FREEZER BURN. The book turned out really nice and I'll always be grateful for the experience. But for the next book, I decided I wanted to try something different.

Back when I was slogging my way through the writing of HIT OR MISSUS, I had this idea for a book of my newspaper columns. I wanted to write a kind of memoir around them and talk about how I got the job, the ideas for some of the columns, feedback from readers, etc. I'd call it WHAT WOULD ERMA DO? Referring, of course, to the great lady herself, Erma Bombeck, with whom I share a birthday.

I approached agents and publishers, who all said, "That sounds interesting. The thing is, you're not famous. Call us when you're Dave Barry."

First of all, I'm pretty sure that's identity theft. Second, I don't think my husband wants to be married to Dave.

When I had almost given up, I met up with a friend who is a prolific and very traditionally published writer. She had recently gotten the rights back to some of her titles, so she threw them onto the Kindle for consumption and was selling a lot. I mean, A LOT. Like, in a very short time, she was able to pay bills with her monthly income.

Hmm. Think-think-think. I already had a readership for my columns. My book of columns was a departure from my novel. I've already been published by a legitimate publishing house. What would it hurt to do my column book on my own?

I researched the online tools, hired an artist to do the cover, and threw WHAT WOULD ERMA DO to the masses as a paperback and an e-book.

And just like that, I was self-pubbed.

In the meantime, I finished HIT OR MISSUS and shopped it around. The entire time I was trying to find it a home, my FREEZER BURN readers were tapping me on my cyber-shoulder. "When's the next one coming out?" was their common question. Agents loved my story. They praised the pacing, the dialogue, the characters. However, it wasn't "right" for them at the moment. I knew what this meant. Agents need to sell to the big houses, and the big houses aren't buying midlist authors because they're only interested in The Blockbuster. I'm no idiot. HIT OR MISSUS is a good, solid, midlist mystery.

So, once again, I took the reins in my own hands. It was easier the second time around. I knew how to do pre-promotion work, how to format the book better, etc.

Suddenly, I wasn't just self-pubbed, I was an Indie Author.

As I prepared for the Santa Barbara Writer's Conference, I thought about how far my thinking had come and what it meant to me. There is still a lot of dreck out there, and the hope is that readers will discover the non-dreck, but in the meantime, the indie authors who want to not only succeed in the business but also raise self-publishing out of the mire and into the mainstream must push themselves constantly toward perfection. Our books must be high quality, in both content and form. We must write better than our best work, to show the world that Indie Authors are serious about their craft.

And then I thought about my life. I won't get embarrassingly personal, but I was raised in a very co-dependent home with a closet alcoholic and a family full of people who wanted to be in the middle of my brain at all times. Psychologically, people raised this way spend their lives trying REALLY HARD to appear NORMAL, which means they end up as overachievers.

After that, I worked as an engineer for years, in a field populated by a lot (not all) of men. Our employer made certain our pay was equal and harassment was treated seriously, etc. But there was an understanding about what women could do versus men: the guy sitting next to me could be an aggravating slob and they'd call him assertive. If I did it, I was a bitch.

So I've learned to work harder and smarter, just to be considered equal to those around me. Do I have to continue doing this to convince people my books are as good as the authors at Random House?

Bring it on. I'm not afraid of a little work.

Flotsam and jetsam

I so love that phrase, I used it two or three times in HIT OR MISSUS and had to go through and rip out all but one occurrence. Damn.

Yesterday, as I was getting ready to drive to Santa Barbara to be Marla Miller's guest panelist at the SB Writer's Conference, I had a Really Big AHA Moment about being an Indie author (which makes me want to wear a fedora and buy a bullwhip, BTW). I drove home thinking, gee, what an excellent blog post that will make - I'm gonna write that as soon as I get home!

Except that I got home after two-and-a-half hours on the freeway and thought, well, nothing, because my brain had turned to oatmeal. Instead, I watched last week's episodes of So You Think You Can Dance with my hubby and tried to point out where my friend, Megan, and I had been in the audience. We were waaaayyyyy off-camera, but when Cat Deeley is in the upper aisle behind the judges, there's a lady's hands in the lower left corner of the screen.

We're in her row.

So the Indie-AHA will wait for another day, while I turn my attentions to writing my weekly column. I usually write it on Tuesday nights, but we're going to see Les Miserables at the Ahmanson tonight, so I will probably NOT want to write about the spider in my shower when I get home from being thrilled. I also need to wash a few clothes. Like, all of them.

In the meantime, I'm going to post a video of my dog chasing the water spraying from the hose. Just because.






Later, Peeps.