Friday, March 9, 2012

I was a twitter addict. That's not accurate. I am a twitter addict.
It was so much fun adding followers. Figuring out what to write. While I was discovering the rules my WPD output started to dwindle by the day. Then I wanted to actually interact with other tweeters. I didn't even really realize how much time I stalked twitter.
I got pretty bad and my writing suffered.
I realized one day when two writers were in a conversation with me (ME!) on twitter that it was a rush.
I had to stop it with the tweeting. It was writing, yes. But not work toward completing my novel.
I stumbled on tumblr and I thought I should switch platforms to ease out of the addiction to being on the web. One day on twitter someone posted a photo link that took me to tumblr.
Tumblr, I soon found out took only a few minuets to set up my own blog and I was off to the races. I found out tumblr was far too much fun.
I dropped twitter completely in favor of the tumblr blog.
Now I know I have a problem.
So, while going cold turkey would be ideal, I am choosing the two T's as the base of a structured writing day.
Every day I break after each 500 word mark. Then I can go on line and tweet or tumble for 20 minuets. I set the alarm on my phone.
When it buzzes I get back to work.
No word work. No play.
I'm calling it GG's social media rehab.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

.99 books and 4 and 5 star reviews

I posted my first review of a .99 cent book on goodreads and Amazon.
I have been buying .99 cent books to help self published authors from the first day I got my kindle.
I was so happy in the beginning. I found dozens of yet to be noticed writers and loved the work they sold at the amazing price that was less than a dollar.
I have begun to notice specific books with very high four or five star ratings and reviews.
It looks professional, the plot seems great, the reviews are positive and abundant so I buy them and put them in my pile of books to read.
In January I read seven books one after the other that just sucked. They had one thing in common- the price.
I am so pissed off.
How could I be so wrong? I went back to check. These books were so mediocre I was beginning to doubt myself and my book picker.
Then I found that any review giving what I felt was a real criticism, stating both the good and the bad were rated as unhelpful reviews and kind of hidden from the first page on amazon. Then I noticed comments bashing the reviewer?!? ( and not just on on book, but all over the place)
I have come to several conclusions:
- it took me several hours to write my review. Why bother when my opinion will be bashed. I am choosing to save my energy for my own work.
-I am going to avoid buying .99 books PERIOD. I can't trust the other reviews. I would rather spend my money on authors I know and love. One book-versus ten-or-so okay (to poor) books? It has become such a crap shoot. I choose the one book.
It's sad because I want to find new authors to support, but enough is enough.
It's a shame. Sometimes a well written review, no matter the faults of the novel only enhance my desire to read the book and make my own decision.
I realize picking a book is still a crap shoot but in the future I will roll the dice and take a chance on each new book without the influence of the abundance of unreliable "reader" reviews.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Civil Blood- a sample

She had brushed against danger plenty of times, she was sure. Not the split second danger of nearly being trampled by a team of horses, that moment where imminent danger screamed at you to wake up.
Everyone lived a hairs breath from doom, especially these days.
With so many falling for both sides of the fight, it was a reality worn on every face Autumn met in her day. She crossed all classes comfortably, and she felt the sadness everywhere, a case of infection for no cure yet existed.
Now that she was out of the food hall and in the street, she stood close to the building allowing the heavy snowfall to shield her. She could allow herself to wonder in private.
Autumn and the danger of choice itself were getting acquainted.
Those few seconds of just looking at the man across the hall expanded her life. Changed her.
Her heart beat faster with the notion of all the endless possibilities. Possibilities that she felt as vividly as any real moment of her day.
It was not even a spoken invitation, but an entire conversation passed from him in the look the man gave her.
But there was something else.
He actually saw her. The world had slowed to this room, to the steadiness of his eyes on her. She knew he found her beautiful. Interesting. Kindred.
Used to being noticed, but never actually seen as a person, this split second interaction was a first for her.
His gaze communicated a power that was seductive.
She was caught in a bubble where time slowed to such a rate, one slowed to a crawl. One that made her aware of her own pulse. Intensely enveloped in the steadfast way she could not help but return his gaze.
He didn't lick his lips, but he might as well have.
The invitation in his eyes had an illicit tone that made her hand tremble as she reached for the door.
Autumn was already on her way out, but leaving as she had been, now felt like an escape. Cowardly.
She was blushing. The only person who could know and had ever noticed her blushing despite her dark skin was away fighting the war.
Autumn was surprised that she would think of Wolfgang at this moment. Thinking of Wolfe brought a pain and yearning that made her throat hurt.
She blinked and further cut off his connection to her by turning her vision toward the street. Time snapped back to life and then she was out the door.
Autumn escaped the cook shop for the streets as unnoticed as the first real snow of the winter that was falling. This was as familiar to her as her dress and she began to calm again.
The pleasant scent of roasted meat, potatoes, and onions mingled with the freshness of the falling snow in the open air.
On the street the food smelled delicious. Here outside the store the air erased what she'd smelled when she first entered the place; the animal aroma of people. People, too many bodies squeezed into a space, too warmed in their street clothing, and too lazy or too tired to remove their coats in fair of eating as soon as the food was before them.
Autumn checked the street. She looked both ways, blinking away the snowflakes gathering on her eyelashes.
She saw the peddlers who had no choice but to try and survive the night where they worked, slept and lived.
She took in the things that never slept in this part of the city with half of her attention because she always noticed these things. It really didn't matter where she was, but she noticed everything.
Her mind was simultaneously seeing the man again.
He was a gangster. She knew this for certain. There was a subtle flash to his almost all black attire, the plaid of his shirt the perfect color to make his eyes shine across the room. They had almost seemed lavender to her. But the color could have been caused by candlelight reflected in claret.
The likes of his kind were not welcome in this neighborhood, but the war was on and nothing was what it was. There were not many looking for trouble when there was so much about, trouble could be easily found by joining the fight on the battlefield.
Autumn knew the people of this area and she was known to them. It was a part of the city where money was short and she always was good for a supply of love and warmth if she was stopped for a chat.
She looked as always for the danger only a stranger could bring to someone like her.
Most of the men who would have cared that a stranger was making a foothold, so blatantly, in this neighborhood, in this food hall of all places, had been the first to sign up for the fight against the south. This included her older brothers and Papa.
Autumn pushed the thoughts of her family down. There was no good to come from that. Think of something else, she told herself.
She walked with her head tucked down against the tickling soft wind that put the snow to her face, unaware that she was still thinking of that man.
He was blond, tall.
She could tell, even though he was sitting that he was very tall from the length of his thin fingers. The men with him all seemed to be facing him so that she never saw their faces, not that she could remember. Everything that was not him had blurred.
The line of his shoulders gave an air of someone who, from birth, had controlled the world around him as if everything, every thing in existence orbited around him, for his entertainment and pleasure.
Autumn imagined herself just that.
Born for the collision, of life were they meet, and the mess she was sure her life would become because of it.
Where would he leave her when his curiosity and amusement wained? That was the unknown that made her feel weak in her step.
It's not like she would really have gone with the man, but there was something in his light blue eyes.
The blond man had the look of life, a life lived on the edge. She thought for a moment more, pondering just what she felt when her eyes had met his. There was a promise of being taken to a world unlike the one she was living.
Autumn imagined herself with him lost on the avenue where pleasure met up with danger on a daily basis.