#AuthorLifeMonth has got to be the strangest daily post challenge I have ever participated in. I have to wonder, do you all really want to know all this about me?
OK, the easy answer to dream author meeting, Agatha Christie. Boom, done.
But that’s pretty short and boring, after all, she’s dead. It ain’t happening.
My cuz had an all female heavy metal band back in the late 80’s early 90’s. They got invited a lot of places in LA. She told me something I’ve always remembered. “When you meet a celebrity you can either have an autograph or an experience.” Update that to today, selfie or experience.
And I get what she meant. When you meet a “star” and you ask for a selfie or an autograph you are putting them in the star category and yourself in the fan category.
By treating them like a human, you might get an interesting experience. Or they might blow you off, mileage varies.
So while I have met a number of “stars” over the years, I only ever once asked for an autograph and I immediately regretted it because other people saw the exchange and mobbed him and he had to leave the location. It was the first “star” I ever met. I never did it again.
And no, I won’t be sharing my experiences. LOL.
I thought I was grabbing another cozy. One set in Gilded Age New York, but a cozy none the less and I expected it to suck. I don’t know why I expected it to suck but I did. I was wrong. On all accounts about Murder on Millionaire’s Row by Erin Lindsey.
Basic Summary (Courtesy of Goodreads):
Rose Gallagher might dream of bigger things, but she’s content enough with her life as a housemaid. After all, it’s not every girl from Five Points who gets to spend her days in a posh Fifth Avenue brownstone, even if only to sweep its floors. But all that changes on the day her boss, Mr. Thomas Wiltshire, disappears. Rose is certain Mr. Wiltshire is in trouble, but the police treat his disappearance as nothing more than the whims of a rich young man behaving badly. Meanwhile, the friend who reported him missing is suspiciously unhelpful. With nowhere left to turn, Rose takes it upon herself to find her handsome young employer.
The investigation takes her from the marble palaces of Fifth Avenue to the sordid streets of Five Points. When a ghostly apparition accosts her on the street, Rose begins to realize that the world around her isn’t at all as it seems―and her place in it is about to change forever.
This is a fantasy mystery with all the trimmings. And I loved it.
Rose is fun, flat out amusing. She has great adventures, thinks about things in unusual ways, and generally shows the reader a darn good time, even if it is at her own expense.
I have to admire a woman who handles herself in a time where that alone could get you in trouble and this book has more than one such woman. Nicely balanced with men who mostly appreciate them. So the historian in me is suspending her disbelief at that because it made for good reading.
I am vastly impressed by Erin Lindsey and I can’t wait for the next one.
I suppose when I started writing all I wanted was to finish I book. √
Then I wanted to have other people read it and say it didn’t suck. √
Then I wanted to it grow a grass roots following.
Then I heard from a number of people that I needed more books.
Write a second book, finish it, have it not suck. √√√
Get more readers than the first book. √
Write the first book in a series. √
Write the second book in a series.
Write the third book in the series.
Publish them within a month of each other to capitalize on Amazons algorithms.
You could say I’m falling down on the job because I am no longer doing what I can.
Along the way I learned way more than I ever wanted about marketing. Is that an accomplishment? Maybe, but it was never a goal. LOL
Laughing, seriously? There is no safe way to answer this without pissing someone off. I’ll make my apologies now.
I could say my hubs, but realistically he is my biggest fan in life. And the one most likely to tell me I’ve bitten off more than I chew, yet again. And that’s a good partnership, plain and simple.
I could list various friends, but what makes one more fan-ish that another. They love my books because they love me. They love the crud I crochet because they love me.
Family? ROFL. Don’t kid yourself, most of them have not read a word I’ve written. Although props to my cuz, Lance, who works his social media like a fiend every time I am up for an award and need votes or release a new book. That is some serious love.
So I think I’ll talk instead about a mom at co-op. I would not have said we were friends. We were acquaintances. I taught/teach her children. Her children like me. She heard I wrote and got my books. She read them. She then sought me out as a human because she liked my books. That’s a good definition of a fan, if you ask me.
I don’t like to listen to music when I write. I find it creeps into my work. The tone of the music seeps into what I am writing.
I remember one Nano, at write in at a local cafe where they really support local artists, they were playing a CD that was super repetitive. And when we all broke after a word war and looked at our materials, almost everyone realized they had written lyrics into the story from the repetitive music.
It’s not always that dramatic but…if I’m listening to something slow and melodic, I find it hard to give my conflict umph. Contrarily, if the music is pumping, I write fast, but everyone is pissed at everyone else.
No music for me.
Although, I don’t like silence either. Must be a hold over from my early days writing while my kiddo was at co-op and parkour. Noise is good.
I used to have a first edition of an Agatha Christie. I found it in a second hand shop. It was fairly beat up. It wasn’t one of my favorite books.
But it was a first edition!
We moved 6 months ago from a 3000 square foot monstrosity in the middle of nowhere to a 1200 square foot townhouse in the heart of the city. Better commute for everyone.
I have always been a declutterer. I don’t like too much stuff about. So when you go from 3000 sf to 1200, a lot needs to go.
I decided to let go of all my “prized possessions” that didn’t actually improve my life. Including my first edition.
#AuthorLifeMonth continues with distractions.
I gotta be honest, the kiddo is a huge distraction but not one I choose to do rather than write. He’s my child, he is a priority. When I think writing distractions I think things I like as much as writing and therefore have to pick which one will get my small amount of available time.
So here, is the biggest competition for my time….
My zoo, which is how I lovingly refer to the teenagers I teach on Mondays. There’s more than 20 of them now, spread over two classes, history and writing. I love teaching them. They are hysterically funny and smart and difficult, all at the same time. They get the best of what’s left over in my time right now.