Selah March

April 12, 2009

Amazonfail/Amazon Rank + review of YotC

UPDATE II: The LA Times weighs in.

UPDATE: Smart Bitches attempt Google bomb = Amazon rank.

So, how long do you think the Taliban-esque branch of the conservative right wing has had Jeff Bezos’ balls in their pocket? Check here for bits and pieces of the sad tale. Outrage is rampant, petitions are circulating, the media has been alerted. We’ll see if it does any good.

And incidentally, if the stated goal is to protect the kiddies, then WTF is up with some of the titles that still have rankings and searchability?  Check this list. Talk about lame. Seriously…if you’re gonna cave to the wing-nuts, at least be efficient about it. Nobody respects a half-assed effort at pandering and cowardice.

Also, Twitter is abuzz with the news. Or atweet. Whatever.

Happy Easter to those who celebrate. We’re Orthodox Christian, so our fast begins today and our Easter is a week from today. Less crowded grocery aisles! Cheaper legs o’ lamb! Rabbit-shaped chocolate on clearance! It’s a good thing.

I got an early gift from Teh Bunny in the form of a thoughtful, amazingly insightful review from Kassa for Year of the Cat. Just what I needed to warm me on a chilly, gray day.

March 30, 2009

Yes. THIS.

Kerry Allen has the last word on e-piracy. Everybody else – and that includes “industry professionals” who tell authors to quit bitching about being bent over and buggered without benefit of lube by scumbag thieves because it might “alienate readers” – can just suck on this for a while, yes? Yes.

Also, have you visited Romance Cooties lately?

August 12, 2008

Red alert. May Day. SOS.

It appears Jenny Crusie is seriously considering doing away with her blog. This can be firmly categorized under Things NOT Okay With Selah.

On the topic of Vicious Posses in the Romance Blogosphere and how they’ve already run at least one good author (Tess Gerritsen, for those who didn’t follow that steaming shit-fest) out of town, Jenny says this:

“So my pal quit blogging, not because she was intimidated by the threats -– this is one tough lady -– but because life was too short and she didn’t need to blog, it had just been her way of giving back to the writing community. Of course, after that some people said she was wimpy for not staying around so they could kick her again, evidently missing the point that sticking around to get insulted by a bunch of people with no sense of humor had no upside for her.”

And:

“I think most people just file the disappointment away under Things I Know About That Author without going after her as someone unclean who must be eradicated from publishing blogs or books. But there are some whose disappointment is so great, whose sense of betrayal is so strong, that they stoop to name-calling and vituperation and cornering innocent writing partners at conferences and telling him that he’s guilty by association. These people, I would argue, need to take a step back. I feel strongly that anybody who evaluates the rest of the people in the world by how closely their attitudes and statements agree with her worldview is in danger of structuring a life much like the Alberto Gonzales Justice Department. We don’t learn from the people who agree with us, we learn from the people who make us say, “Wait a minute,” and that learning goes both ways. I learn a lot from the critics who intelligently analyze my books and find them wanting; I’ve also learned a lot from the people who have thoughfully and calmly disagreed with me on this blog. Haven’t learned a thing from the shriekers and condemners, though. And the only thing my pal learned was that blogging was just too expensive a hobby in the balance of her life. I think a lot of people miss her blog; I doubt that she does.”

The “no sense of humor” thing? SPOT. ON. I’ve seen better senses of humor on an oncology ward than on some romance blogs where Very Important Topics Relevant To The Future of Romance are discussed almost daily. (And the Alberto Gonzalez crack? I’d like to think it’s an Easter Egg for those of us in the know, but I doubt it. And I love it anyway.)

Don’t go, Jenny. I don’t agree with everything you say, and I sometimes think you’re two catfish short of a coatrack, but I love your sense of humor and your guts. I’d miss you like BURRRRRNING.

To those individuals who’ve emailed me to ask, “WTF? And where?” Thank you. It’s nice to know somebody misses me like burning, too. I’m here, banging away at the final revisions on the novella that has graduated from “would not die” to “living dead,” with a full serving of BRAAAAAAINS. Plus, there was the Jersey shore, and now there’s cheerleading camp and football practice. So very middle American, n’cest pas? But school starts in three weeks. I’ll be back with a vengeance then.

In the meantime, my publisher has informed me that July was the highest selling month in history for Amber Quill Press, spurred on by excellent sales from the Allure imprint. And…

1. Under My Skin II – M. L. Rhodes (Gay / Contemporary)
2. Warm Rush, Book I: Chasing Winter – Rowan McBride (Gay / Paranormal)
3. Wild Horses – Selah March (Gay / Western)
4. Light My Fire – Lee Avalone (Gay / Paranormal / Horror)
5. Bridge Over Troubled Water – Vivien Dean (Gay / Vampire)
6. Calendar Boys—July: Vintage – Jamie Craig (Gay / Contemporary)
7. Strangers In The Night – Christian France (Gay / Contemporary)
8. (Just Like) Starting Over – Pepper Espinoza (Gay / Contemporary)
9. You Were Always On My Mind – Deirdre O’Dare (Gay / Contemporary)
10. Nowhere Man – Jamie Craig (Gay / Contemporary)

Guess I can start putting payments on that shiny new hat I saw in the window at Macy’s. What Ricky doesn’t know won’t–

Luuuuuucy! You got some ‘splainin’ to do!

WAAAAAAAAAH…

July 21, 2008

Meh.

Filed under: blah blah blah,Links to more interesting people than I,New release — Selah March @ 12:58 pm

I’m still hip-deep in an overdue novella (apologies to my lovely, patient, kind, and insightful editor if she happens to be reading this) but here’s a short list of interesting things I’ve found while surfing when I should’ve been writing:

PBW’s “Left Behind and Loving It” workshop schedule for next week’s non-RWA attendees.

The start of a good romantic suspense novel…except it’s real, and holy shit, those poor women.

For Jeebus’ sake, DON’T hold a child in your lap while on a riding lawnmower. I mention this because as I was driving back from the post office today, I saw not one…not two…but THREE instances of adults cutting grass with toddlers on their laps. TODDLERS. Squirmy, unpredictable, prone-to-impulsivity little bundles of “Oh, look, shiny!” whom you’re holding onto with ONE HAND while operating the motorized vehicle with the SHARP ENOUGH TO DICE AND SLICE BLADES with the other. Read the statistics in the above link, and when you tell yourself it could never happen to you because you’re so damned careful, know that thousands of well-intentioned folks told themselves the same thing when they gave in to Junior’s whining and told him to hop aboard. Now Junior won’t be hopping anywhere, because he’s missing both his feet FROM THE KNEE DOWN.

Whew. Got a little worked up there. All better now.

Finally, I’ve got a guest-blog over at Slash and Burn on GAY COWBOYS IN THE POST-BROKEBACK AGE.

Here’s where I usually put that quippy final line, but I’m fresh out of “quippy” today. Running pretty low on “clever” and “cute,” too. Mere sarcasm? Got LOADS of that, but I’ve been told (repeatedly) that it’s totally five minutes ago, and I just don’t have the energy to defend my vintage sensibilities at the moment.

But y’all have yourselves a good week anyway, bless your hearts. 😉

July 14, 2008

Random is as random does.

My BFF Eva had a bad day today, though she managed to describe it in terms that made me cry tears of mirth. Go laugh till snot runs down your face over her caffeine-related tragedy.

Barb Caridad Ferrer posted on RtB a few days ago, and I somehow missed it. She makes some good points about the dearth of good, single title contemporary romance on today’s shelves. I hardly have time to read, and my TBR pile is health-hazard unto itself, so I hadn’t noticed the lack, myself. Will take her word for it, though, because she’s brilliant and EVER-stylish.

This nice person had some interesting insights into WILD HORSES. I like it when people talk about my characters like they’re real people. Gives me warm fuzzies.

I’ve got two blogs up elsewhere — one at Red Sage Revealed about THERE CAME A KILLING FROST, and one at Amber Quill Authors’ Blog about the art and science of writing a sequel.

Got an email from a nice woman yesterday who wants to know if I’m only writing Westerns now. That would be a “no,” if anyone else is wondering. It’s just coincidence that my last three books have featured cowboys. My next Amber Allure release is a Halloween tale that takes place in upstate New York — about as far from a Western as you can get and stay in the continental US.

Finally, Jenny Crusie has this to say about flame-throwers, both in the literal and metaphorical sense:

George Carlin said, “The very existence of flame-throwers, proves that some time, somewhere, someone said to themselves, ‘You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, I’m just not close enough to get the job done.’” I think it was more, “I want to set those people over there on fire, and I don’t want to get close enough that they can retaliate.” Or maybe that’s just the flamethrowers on the internet. And speaking of them, why is it always the flamers who say to the people who protest their abuse, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen”? It’s like they’re saying, “I have a right to scorch you but you don’t have the right to complain about it.” And if you leave, then they jeer because you can’t take it. “Coward.” I don’t like them but I don’t have to live with them, so they’re not a big deal. But just bleah on flamers, that’s what I say.

I have no idea who or what Jenny’s referencing here, but I’m going to pretend I do, because it gives me a happy. And while I’m at it, I’ll go her one better and ask a and mostly rhetorical question for anyone who’d care to ponder it:

If you hosted a party in your home, and one group of guests turned on another guest — or group of guests — and started calling her/him/them names, wouldn’t you consider it your job to intervene? Even if you agreed with the names being called and the insults being launched, wouldn’t you feel SOME responsibility — whether legally dictated or not — to step in and put an end to the badness?

Because the First Amendment (even if it applied in this case, which it doesn’t, because it applies to the government curtailing free speech, not a blog-owner) is not the law in my house. In my house? Everybody minds their manners, whether they’re multi-national bestselling authors slumming with masses, barely-literate “readers” who couldn’t grasp the finer points of a philosophical debate if they had velcro sewn to their fingertips, or something in between.

Like I said, rhetorical question. But I have to wonder what the host gets out of it when her guests go cannibal and eat their own. I guess it saves on the hors d’oeuvres, huh? Or the need to come up with really interesting original content.

Anyway.

June 3, 2008

It was the third of June…

…another sleepy, dusty delta daa-aaa-y…

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was bailin’ hay…

Quick! Name that tune!

Yesterday, I hiked four miles over rough terrain — a quarter of it almost straight uphill — on what amounted to a whim.

Today? I am stiff and sore, but feeling oddly virtuous, even though several times during the hike I almost gave in to the urge to sit my ass down and make myself at home right there among the mosquitoes and sprouting fiddler ferns. Only the promise of an ice cream cone kept me moving. That and shame. I’m too young to be this old.

In other news, PBW has posted on the topic of author promo. Among other things, she says, “I understand the need for security via uniformity and conformity — that’s why we call the herd the herd — but blending in does not sell books.”

Hey, good news for me, because like Joe Pesci, I don’t BLEND.

In a similar vein, both Kerry Allen and my brilliant and ever-stylish crit partner, Barb/Caridad Ferrer, agree with me about SJP/SEX IN THE CITY. (We know we’re in the minority. I, for one, am at perfect peace with this.)

And Cindy Cruciger is running a week-long recap of her Hurricane Chronicles. Twisted, as only Cindy can deliver when she’s on a roll.

I’m about to contact the winners of the free “There Came A Killing Frost” ARC. Aren’t you sorry you didn’t enter?

No?

Well. All right then. No cookie for YOU.

October 31, 2007

Compare and Contrast: War of the HALLOWEENS

(Looking for the “Don’t be a Halloweenie” contest? Scroll down to the previous post.)

All righty, class. Today’s lesson is on the relative merits of remakes of classic horror movies. Would anyone like to address this topic?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

WatcherDon! Go for it, dude.

“About two and a half years ago, Halloween began to frighten me again. The very word was enough to fill me with dread, but it wasn’t a spooky type of fear. It was one borne of a certain amount of dismay and tinged with despair. Rob Zombie was going to remake…no, wait…reIMAGINE the original John Carpenter classic “Halloween.”

Carpenter’s film was one of the only movies that ever really scared me when I was growing up. It remains, in fact, the only film that has ever given me nightmares, and it gave me quite a few of them over the years, especially as a teenager. It was one of the only movies that touched on my own fears and awakened my own sense of mortality. After all, if you didn’t want Jason Voorhees to hack you up, you could just stay out of the campsite with the awful reputation. If you were concerned about getting attacked in the shower, don’t stay in the creepy off-highway motel with the lonely manager. Stay away from the big house on top of the hill, the creepy castle, the graveyard at midnight. All of these seemed fairly logical ways to avoid sudden and terrifying death, right?

But “Halloween” brought it right into a suburban/small town neighborhood. Right into the home. Carpenter’s Michael Myers…or The Shape, as he was called in the shooting script, was Evil on two legs and he was hunting in living rooms and bedrooms that looked a lot like your own, on sidewalks and streets that could be right outside your door.

The other thing that terrified me about Carpenter’s little low-budget movie was the fact that it wasn’t as simple a matter as it’s so often described. Veteran producer Moustapha Akkad, who financed the first film and kept the series going through the years often repeated the initial pitch for the movie – “The babysitter to be killed by the bogeyman.” True, but there was another whole side to it.

Unlike Jason or Freddy, who typically had only their teen victims to contend with, Michael Myers had the machinery of authority out to stop him. The police were looking for him. His psychiatrist, arguably the single man who knew him best, was out to stop him. To me, this added a weight of realism that the other slasher films just didn’t generally have. After all, if a mad killer was stalking my neighborhood, I would take some comfort in the fact that the local police were on the lookout for him. But…they were looking for Michael…and it didn’t help.

As I grew older, of course, the sequels came along, some of which did their very best to undermine the effectiveness of the original. More kills, more blood, more “inventiveness” served largely to put Halloween adrift in the same sea of gore where all the other slashers lurked.

And now they had turned it over to Rob Zombie. The thought alone was enough to make my blood run cold. What would he do to my cherished childhood nightmare?

For those of you who avoid such things, Zombie has built himself an interesting reputation as a filmmaker. Like Tarantino, his interest is firmly embedded in the schlock of the grindhouse cinema, and his previous films House of 1,000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects were monuments to B-movie excess. Profane, guttural, gory, but handled with a to-hell-with-it attitude that forces the viewer to play along for the ride. Subtle, he’s not – and the subtlety of Carpenter’s version was always one of the things that made it work.

Recently I was able to acquire a workprint copy of Zombie’s “Halloween.” Please do not contact me to ask where I got it, because I am not at liberty to say. The workprint is substantially different from the theatrical release, and there is some hope that it will be released on DVD with the theatrical cut in a bonus package, but the details are still under negotiation. That being said, the workprint appears to have been Zombie’s original intention for the film, and the changes made to the theatrical version seem to reflect studio involvement afterward.

Carpenter’s original and now classic opening takes us from the point of view of the killer as he stalks and murders a teenage girl. The reveal at the end of the sequence shows that the killer is a six year old boy with a perfectly normal, almost angelic appearance.

Zombie sets out to take on all comers with his own opening. Michael is now about 10 years old, a misfit in a heavy metal tee shirt with a predilection for harming small animals and a simmering rage that threatens to boil over at any moment. His mother (played by Zombie’s wife, the beautiful but earthy Sheri Moon) is called into the school to meet with child psychologist Dr. Samuel Loomis (Malcolm McDowell.)

McDowell’s portrayal of Loomis is markedly different from Donald Pleasance’s obsessive and almost campy take on the role. McDowell’s Loomis is pompous and phony, a Rasputin-like character who spends the opening third of the film attempting touchy-feely methods of reaching young Michael before giving up on the young man entirely and embarking on a speaking tour to promote his book on the “evil” that lives behind Michael Myers’ eyes.

Like almost every male character in the picture, the younger Dr. Loomis sports scraggly, shoulder-length hair that appears to be a Zombie trademark. Everyone has it – Michael’s abusive stepfather, Michael himself, his sister’s boyfriend, male victims, even the sheriff. Loomis, however, appears to be making a statement with his locks, perhaps because he wears a short cut later in the film. With Loomis, it feels inauthentic, as if it’s part of his schtick, another piece of fakery, this one designed to show how hip and non-conformist he is even as he dribbles pop-psych pablum from his lips.

Young Michael’s simmering rage boils over on Halloween, 1978 (a nod, no doubt, to the year of the original film’s release) with a rampage that sends him to Smith’s Grove Sanitarium and destroys his entire family. Zombie once again diverges from Carpenter by putting so much emphasis on the backstory. For Carpenter, Michael is terrifying because he is so mysterious. Zombie makes an earnest effort to illustrate the care and feeding of a serial killer, including the known circumstances and warning signs that appear to be linked with real-life cases. Michael is an outcast at school, preyed on by bullies. He has conflicted and disturbing feelings of sexuality brought on by his mother and her career as a stripper. He is abused by an alcoholic stepfather, robbing him of a positive male role model. He abuses animals. He is filled with violent rages. He feels the need to conceal himself behind masks and locked doors. He is a ticking time bomb, and young Daeg Faerch delivers a powerful performance in the role.

Michael is then locked away in the sanitarium, but while Carpenter picks up the story immediately with Myers’ escape, Zombie takes his time. We see Loomis attempting to reach Michael. We see the effect his incarceration and madness have on his mother.

The escape sequence in the workprint is different from the theatrical release, and both are more violent and gruesome than the original. From here on, most of the film mirrors the original release, but it’s not unlike Frank Miller’s take on Batman in “The Dark Knight Returns” – everything is exactly the same, but it’s all completely different. Dr. Loomis trails Michael to Haddonfield. There is a sheriff, this time played by a woefully underused but still brilliant Brad Dourif. And there is a night of terror on Halloween. Along the way, Zombie takes time to offer alternatives to some of the plot gaps in the original – the iconic mask has an origin, for example, and this Michael does not somehow learn to drive during his incarceration.

The original trio of girls – Laurie, Annie, and Linda – are back, but they are rougher around the edges. While Annie and Linda were prone to drink some beer or smoke some weed and fool around with boyfriends, there was a teenaged innocence to them. Not so with their newer, more profane and outrageous counterparts. Linda is actually unlikable in this new version, and Annie is saved from being detestable only by the charisma of Danielle Harris (who returns to the series after two outings as young Jamie Lloyd in Halloween 4 and 5.) Scout Taylor Compton is at first shrill and irritating as Laurie, but she eventually settles down into a somewhat dorky but endearing character who is miles away from Jamie Lee Curtis’s quiet, repressed take on the part.

In the end, however, the hairdos and the Tarantino-like profanity are merely window dressing to cover the real difference between Zombie’s and Carpenter’s treatments of the story. It all boils down to Michael, and Zombie’s conviction that making Myers more “realistic” in terms of what we understand about the psychology of the serial murderer can serve to make him even more terrifying.

I have to say that it doesn’t, although I give Zombie top marks for his effort. It is interesting and fresh to look harder at the psychology of such an iconic character, but in the end, Michael is less frightening when he’s easier to understand. Zombie’s Michael Myers is evil, yes, and brutal – but he is also somewhat tragic and human. There are reasons, however twisted, for his actions, and those reasons strip him of the essential randomness that made a 12 year old boy wake up in a cold sweat. This Michael never made me wonder if somehow I might be next, and while that makes him more complex in the long run, it makes him that much less scary.

Rob Zombie’s Halloween workprint gets three and a half pumpkins out of the original’s five. “

Thank you, WatcherDon. Very impressive. You get the extra cookie.

Give yourself a Halloween gift and check out Don’s fiction here.

And don’t be a Halloweenie! Enter the contest.

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue

October 2, 2007

Dorito crumbs, queer romance on the side: ORDER UP!

Filed under: blah blah blah,Links to more interesting people than I,RT — Selah March @ 9:41 am
Tags:

My brilliant and always fabulously stylish crit partner, Barbara Caridad Ferrer, has a column up at Romancing the Blog about how it’s the little things that keep us sane.

Mostly, it’s the little things that drive me batty — and if one more person leaves Dorito crumbs on my pillow, he or she will find themselves in a UNIVERSE of hurt — but I appreciate the sentiment, and the fan letter she quotes is a thing of beauty.

In other news, Romantic Times has reviewed Suz Brockmann’s latest (ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT) which features an M/M relationship, thereby breaking their policy of not reviewing queer romance. Instead of going with my knee-jerk reaction — Hey, Hypocrites ‘R’ Us! What happened to “M/M romance is to romantic fiction as Yoga is to NASCAR”??? — I’ve decided to take it as a sign of good things to come. MAYBE if they don’t get a thousand angry letters, and MAYBE if not too many people cancel their subscriptions, and MAYBE if they get a bunch of messages saying “Hey, that was cool, why don’t you review more M/M romance?” (that’s a hint, btw) they will change their general policy in the near future.

It’s not like I don’t understand how the publisher is under pressure to cave to the belligerent homophobes — I do. And I sympathize to the degree that RT will continue to get my business in the form of a subscription, ad revenue, and convention fees. But bravery in the face of ignorant bigotry would earn them my undying love and respect, as well.

For anyone interested, I’ll be at PhazeChatters tomorrow for an all-day fiesta with several other authors. Contests, prizes, filthy excerpts, much giggly banter filled with double-entendre and innuendo. You know — the usual drill.

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue

July 26, 2007

Review: THE UNFORTUNATE MISS FORTUNES

The theory behind THE UNFORTUNATE MISS FORTUNES — three well-known authors (Jenny Crusie, Eileen Dreyer, Anne Stuart) combine talents to create a single novel — is like opening a menu and finding your three favorite desserts combined into one. (In my case, it would be a honkin’ slice of sour cream lemon meringue-hot fudge sundae-cheesecake, but you’re not here to find out how I flirt with diabetic coma on a weekly basis, so never mind.)

You think, “Wow. All three at once. I wonder how that’ll taste…” And so you order it and you dig in and lo and behold…it ain’t bad. In fact, parts of it are downright tasty.

I’ve read a little Dreyer and a little more Stuart, and liked them both. I’m an inveterate Crusie fan, though, so I expected to love the Crusie contribution best. I wasn’t wrong. The characters she created in Mare Fortune, Crash (Mare’s one true love), and a cast of wacky supporting actors are the sour cream lemon meringue pie my grandmother made for every birthday I celebrated between ages five and twenty.

My next favorite was Anne Stuart’s contribution in the character of Lizzie. I guess she’d be the hot fudge sundae with homemade vanilla ice cream drowned in fudge made from real dark chocolate. Maybe some coconut flakes for texture. I found Lizzie loveable, if a little more dim than I generally like my heroines. Her soulmate, Elric, tended toward the typical paranormal alpha male — inscrutable, arrogant and more than a little annoying at times, but I forgave him eventually. All in all, a solid effort.

Finally, Dreyer’s eldest sister, Dee, was my least favorite of the trio, which is not to say I didn’t like her…because hello? Cheesecake? The really good kind, straight from New York? But she’s a frustrating character for me, forever trapped by her own sense of responsibility and guilt, and carrying secrets alone, and I dunno…cardigan sweaters and her hair in a bun? Really? It made me want to rebel in solidarity with eldest sisters everywhere. Plus, her interactions with her one true love tended to be a little on the repetitive side. But hey…even when every bite of cheesecake is the same as the last, who’s complaining?

Together the three sisters were a delight. With a villainess, Xantippe, who is the perfect cup of espresso — dark, bitter, and cleansing to the palate between bites of confection — this book can’t miss. If I were a real reviewer giving it a real grade…hmmm…four and a half maraschino cherries out of five.

I highly recommend THE UNFORTUNATE MISS FORTUNES.

SelahMarch.com – Romance of Dubious Virtue

June 28, 2007

Like a Hoover, Baby.

Filed under: blah blah blah,Links to more interesting people than I — Selah March @ 10:18 am
Tags:

I’ve often bemoaned my suckitude at self-promo. Truly, I hate it with the fiery passion of ten-thousand stars gone nova. I’d rather be writing. Hell, I’d rather be washing a fat beagle with bad breath and a penchant for humping my leg. (Guess what’s on my To Do list today?)

I’ve never gone the “widgets” route. No bookmarks, no pens, no magnets. I don’t even have a business card. I did a gift basket for a con once. Have no idea if it sold any books, but I sort of enjoyed the process of putting it together. I do try to show up once every six weeks or so on a Yahoo loop chat organized by my publishers to post blurbs and excerpts and run a quickie contest, but I spend the entire time thinking that I sound like an obnoxious, self-absorbed loser who has nothing better to do than talk about her own stuff. Live chats in which I’m expected to banter extemporaneously about my writing while trading quips with other readers and authors? Gave those up for Lent two years ago and never went back. I salute those who enjoy them and can pull them off successfully, but…like a Hoover, baby. Seriously. I SUCK at it.

Which, frankly, is pretty much how I feel about blogging, but I figure that if you’re here and reading, it must be for a reason. Unless someone is holding a gun to your head. Is someone holding a gun to your head? BLINK THREE TIMES if someone is holding a gun to your head to force you to read this blog. I’ll call 911. No. Really.

Okay then. Check out PBW’s post: Self-Promotion That Doesn’t Suck.

Her list includes:

1. Previous familiarity with author’s other work through excerpts and free stories, etc.

Check. I try to post excerpts will some regularity, though I could do better at that. And I’ve still got my free ebook from last year’s PBW Ebook Challenge up on my website. (DARK OF THE DAY, a mildly erotic paranormal romance about life, death, and the spaces in between.) I’ve gotten a pretty good response from that — a few nice letters from people who enjoyed it — but I have no idea if it’s sold any other books. I guess I’ll take it on faith, since PBW tends to know what she’s talking about.

2. Recommendation of friend.

I can’t force y’all to pimp me. But I’d appreciate it mightily, for I am a big ‘ho.

3. Reading about book on another person’s blog or website.

I’m sending out more stuff for reviews on individual blogs, rather than the big reviewing sites, which my publishers pretty much have covered anyway. It’s paid off in a few cases and I plan to keep doing it within reason. I’ve also done a couple interviews and give-aways on romance-related blogs. We’ll see if it makes a difference.

I certainly could do more. I’m sadly remiss at the contest thing. Hmmm…

Okay, comment on this post and tomorrow morning sometime, I will randomly choose one winner from the comments to receive a free ebook of their choice from my backlist (basically everything but SIN STREET, which is only available in print). List can be found on my website, link below. Be sure to check the “books” link AND the “home” page for choices.

I suspect this won’t work as well on a blog that gets relatively few hits, but we’ll see. I’ll try anything once. I have the scars to prove it.

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