How to Teach an Old Blog New Tricks

I recently guest blogged for a fellow author and thought I'd share the post here as well. I think it might be relevant for a lot of you who have blogs and like me find it hard to keep the new and fresh content coming when you're busy with other things in life. 

So, without further adieu...my post.

Blogging is a fairly new phenomenon for me. I hadn't investigated it much prior to being published and I only set up my blog as an interim online presence, while I got my head around designing a website. The website is mainly an information spot about my books and who I am, it contains excerpts and book blurbs which I hope people enjoy reading but...it’s not a good site for my day to day communication needs on the internet. The intention was to do away with the blog once the website came online but I discovered, the website wasn't as interactive as my blogger page. Now I have both which, until recently, posed a problem.

I’m no expert, but I have been told that in order for a blog to be successful and attract followers you need a constant stream of content. If not daily posts then at least new information a few times a week. Trying to juggle writing, social network commitments and maintain both the website and blog meant something had to give. Unfortunately, that often meant a blog post every few weeks. if I was lucky. My blog became the totally neglected country cousin that I thought about periodically, felt guilty about not talking to more often, but still didn't call. I tried revamping it in a few different ways and although the inclusion of author interviews increased the number and regularity of posts I still had to either write the blog or run around finding willing participants to appear as guests. It turned out to be as time consuming as before and the number of posts only increased in fits and starts. The posts still weren't regular. Then I found what appears to be the answer to my content problems.

There are people (I think they are actually Angels in disguise) that you can pay to organize blog tours and other promotional events for authors. Now I didn't want to conduct a blog tour, I haven’t got a new book release for a little while yet, but I did want blog content…can you see where this might lead.

I spotted a post on Facebook asking for bloggers to add their name to a list of participants willing to host sections of the tours being organized. I followed the link, read the information, had one of those ‘der, why didn't you think of this before’ moments, filled out what I’ll call the ‘include-me-form’ and my problems were on the way to being solved. It was that easy.

A few days later I got some emails asking me to be a host for events being organized. The emails have been coming in a fairly constant (but not annoyingly so) stream each week since then and I have regular posts scheduled two or three times a week between now and October. When I add the blog posts I write each week as well, I’m heading toward a blog every second day or so and all with very little effort on my part. Here’s how it works.

I get the information about what tours or book release events are coming up, look at my calendar, select a date that suits me for someone to appear and reply to the email. All the information (books cover pics, buy links, interview, blog or book excerpt) relevant to the tour is sent to me in advance, I copy and paste it onto a new blog post and schedule it for the date I've agreed it will appear. I then send the blog post link back to the organizer. Easy-peasy...go me J

The beauty of it is, I get to choose who and what goes on the blog. If there is something I don’t think will suit my readership then I don’t participate in that event. So if you write sweet romance and don’t want any adult content, from say an erotic author, on your site you just decline to be part of that event. I can get a bit racy at times, so I haven’t found any content that I’m not happy to include on my blog so far, but the option is there for me should the situation arise. The benefits are numerous. I not only get content for my blog, I also get traffic to the sight from readers who may not have heard of me or my books. The increased traffic comes from the featured author and the event organizer promoting the posts on social media instead of it just being left up to me to get the word out. At the same time, I'm helping promote other authors work and giving my blog followers useful information about new books and competitions for them to investigate. It’s a win-win from my perspective.

I hope you've found this little post informative and that it helps others (who have blogs sitting empty most days of the week) to see there is a way to boost your blog profile with very little effort or work on your part. I know this is probably a blog directed more toward authors and bloggers than readers but I hope you've enjoyed it.

For anyone interested in finding out how to sign up with the same group I use the information as follows, just click the words become a tour host to go to their website: Writer Marketing Services: Become a Tour Host

If you happen to be one of the Angels in disguise I mentioned above or you know a good blog tour organizer for people to link up with just leave the information in the comments section for other to check out.

The Author Life for Me

I often am amazed that what people assume I do as an author and what I actually do are two completely different things. I know I've blogged about it before but I need to do it again since it's on my mind once more. When I tell people that I'm an author words like wow, exciting, cool and amazing get thrown around. Of course then there is usually a statement about how whoever I'm talking to has always wanted to write a book. The fact is my life isn't really exciting or that amazing, it sometimes has a few wow moments but generally it's not what you think it is.

Today for example I'm sitting in front of the computer typing, just like many people do in their everyday jobs. That will be my day, a solitary typist sitting at her desk and talking to herself (or the characters in my head) as she tries to work out what words go together to form a coherent story that people may like. I've been awake since 5.30 a.m. I've been working since I woke and I'll continue to work until I decide my day is over (usually around 6 p.m. or the likes). I'll take a break from the screen and tapping away at the keyboard for lunch or cuppas, but not from thinking about my work. You see whether I'm in front of the computer or going out for groceries or cooking a meal, the characters are always there, the current book is always on my mind. It's all consuming.

Now I'm not saying there aren't advantages to working as I do, one of them being I'm at home. So again today, for example, I'm sitting in my PJ's, rugged up in a blanket with my fluffy slippers on as I construct this blog. I didn't have to brave the cold (yes it's winter in Australia) or get dressed, put on makeup, do my hair and arrive at an office by a designated time. Sometimes I'll sit in my jammies all day and work because it doesn't matter how I look, I won't see another soul. 

Being an author is a solitary business, which for the most part suits me. Even promoting your book is a solitary activity. In the modern ebook era if I do an interview or a book tour as a way of promotion it's done from home, mostly over the internet. I get the interview questions or design a blog post and email it away to whomever and then wait for the information to go live in cyber town. When Finding Angel was released I did a blog tour. It amused me that I could actually 'appear' all around the world all from the comfort of my then office in the Southern Highlands of N.S.W, Australia. As part of the promotional activities, there may, or may not, be discussion on the blog or website the information appears on, so I keep an eye on that in order to respond if necessary, but the activity is still void of human contact. We're all cyber identities conversing via electronic means from our own little worlds. 

The other misconception people seem to have about being an author is that I'm rich, or at least make an income that supports me in the lifestyle they believe I lead. The opposite is true. I'll need a lot more publications before I can even claim to make a modest living from writing. Most authors, including me, have alternate sources of income that pays the bills. Whether that be a partners income, a regular day job or other money to keep them housed, clothed, fed and pay the bills. I'm not saying that I don't make any money from writing but it certainly doesn't provide for my needs. The money from writing comes in, usually, on a quarterly basis, and it often goes back out on items like swag, competition prizes and other promotion like advertising to further sales in the next quarter. It doesn't take me on an overseas trip around the world, although I hope it will one day. 

The other thing I try to inform my friends about my work is this. Just because I'm home doesn't mean I can go out or talk on the phone for hours on end, I'm home because I'm working. Sometimes I almost feel rude about ignoring the phone or sending a text saying 'not can't go out I'm writing'. I realize many of my friends will understand but that doesn't mean I haven't lost some friends because of saying no or ending a phone call before they are ready for it to finish. Sometimes even plans I've made change. Recently I'd set the day aside to go out with a girlfriend to the movies. I'd been working flat out and the words had been flowing at a great rate. When Friday morning arrived the words were still pouring out of me and I didn't want to stop the flow, so I rang her and said I'm not going out I'm staying home to write. She understood and agreed if I was on a roll then I should stick to it, but unfortunately that isn't the case with everyone.  The plain and simple truth is, if I don't write I don't make any money, so I need to prioritize the time to get the next book out. 

One of my favorite things (not) that friends have said is, 'but I saw you on Facebook so I know you aren't working'. Well, actually, yes I am. Authors do their own promotion and networking via the world of social media. I don't use it for fun, although some of the thing that happen and conversations I have when I'm on there can be fun, but it's not the reason I log in. I'm updating my author page, I'm talking with readers, authors and publisher...I'm making a living (well except when I play Candy Crush, then I'm just frustrating myself...grr).  

I should just clarify that I'm not writing this blog to complain or bitch about being an author. I wouldn't change what I do for the world, it's the love of my life at the moment (yep, no love interest on the horizon) and I'm thankful I have the opportunity to do it. I'm mainly blogging about this so that people have a better idea of what my job is actually like. 

If you're thinking of being an author then great, do it, but don't go into it thinking it's the be all and end all to happiness and an exciting life. It's a job, just like any other. Sometimes there's the wow moments but mostly it's a quiet, solitary lifestyle that brings more personal fulfillment and joy than monetary gain or notoriety. 

So, author friends, have you been faced with misconceptions about what you actually do that frustrates you? And, readers friends (I know sometimes we are both) do you have anything you've ever wondered about a authors life that you'd like to ask but never been game? I'll try to answer anything as honestly as I can. 

Have a great day everyone. 

   

Something is wrong, were fixing it soon.

This past week I feel like my life has been one long error message. I hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong until I was trying to update my website and a message popped up on my screen. Something is wrong...we're fixing it soon. Just great! It was only then it occurred to me, maybe the problem is me. Well, metaphorically of course. It never ceases to amaze me that the universe can send you enlightening massages through the most benign circumstances. My decline started last Saturday on an escalator at Central Station in Sydney, around 10 a.m. in the morning. Contrary to what some of my friends think, I was NOT drunk...lol. I managed to see the day through until around 3 p.m, then I had to call an end to my planned weekend of fun and frivolity. I retreated arriving home about two hours later, very sore and hardly able to walk. Poor me. The week just got worse from then on.

I had so much work to do, including finishing my second book. Up until I'd gone to the city I'd been flying through the pages, everything falling into place, sticking to my schedule of at least one chapter a day. After the incident, everything stopped, just like the bloody escalator.

Sunday I decided to rest, I took painkillers and slept most of the day and night. Monday I knew I had to get back to work. I had a schedule, daily tasks to complete, a To Do list a mile long. I tried to write a few blogs...it didn't work. I didn't like them, the words wouldn't come out the way I thought they should. I opened my manuscript, then closed it. If I can't get a blog to make sense then how can I write a book. I decided I'd give myself another day off and went back to bed to read. Tuesday I managed to finish the guest blogs I'd been working on and emailed them away, I did a couple of tweets and updates on a couple of other sites. I opened the manuscript, then closed it. It all seemed overwhelming. I went back to reading the book I'd chosen the day before. The rest of the week continued the same way, turn on computer, check emails, tweet, post, open manuscript, close manuscript, go to bed and read. Outside the rain pelted down on the ground, the sky was grey, the clouds dark an ominous. It reflected my mood perfectly.

By Friday I was firmly entrenched in a dark lazy cocoon. I constantly ran through the tasks I knew I had to complete. Write two book reviews - at least I've finished reading the books, I'll do the reviews later. Do a final edit and submit the second novella in the Sydney Cougar series to my publisher- it's not good enough and I don't feel like being rejected in the mood I'm in. Work on completing Playing Jax, the second book in the Wylde Shore series - why bother, I don't even know if people will like the first one. I had no idea where the thoughts were coming from but I didn't resist them, I let them dwell. Big mistake. I swear if my name was Vincent van Gogh, I'd only have one ear by now. But I'm not Vincent and all I really had was a sore knee, a messed up bed, five completed novels scattering the floor, and a miserable attitude. I picked up the next book in the series I found myself reading and snuggled under the blankets. Who cares, not me.

On Saturday, after crying my way through the final chapters of Christine Feehan's Dark Melody, I realised the rain had stopped. So, with both ears still intact, I dragged myself out of bed, showered, dressed and took my lousy attitude to life out to do some grocery shopping. I will go back and apologise to the check out operator I growled at sometime within the next couple of days, after all it wasn't her fault she was in a good mood. Today I sat down at the computer determined to get back in touch with my old self. I sent the book review requests I had been putting off all week, did the social network stuff, returned emails and attempted to update the website. Error and inspiration message from the universe received. Thanks so much.

Something is wrong, we're fixing it soon. Well...no...I'm fixing it now actually. I'm fighting my way out of the fog and I'm on my way to turning my sappy, depressed attitude into a blessing. I've decided to channel my misery into my novels villain. She is a woman who likes to make people miserable because her own life is not turning out the way she wanted it too. Not that I'm like that, but I figure I can turn my current wallowing, oh poor me, life sucks week, into something worthwhile.

Tweet, Tweet, Twiddle de Tweet.

I may not rock in the treetops all day long, hopping and bopping and singing my song... but I do tweet. Social networking, the modern day authors new nightmare. When I first decided to concentrate on being an full-time author, I had now idea what I was letting myself in for. Ignorance is bliss doesn't really cover what I've discovered, but it goes a long way to explaining it. Once my first manuscript was completed, I went on the biggest learning curve of my life. In olden days, or at least my idea of them, authors wrote a book, got published, did a few book signings & interviews, then went back to their cave to write something else. I realise it's probably an incorrect notion or simplistic view of the olden day, but movies are really all I have to go on. I should probably add that if you were a crime or suspense writer, in between the signing and writing, you probably solved a few crimes or mysteries along the way, rescued a damsel or two and saved at least one city from destruction.

But I digress...

Once my manuscript was complete, I started to contemplate getting published. I know, it probably wasn't the best way to do things. I should have actively sought a book deal when the story was in plot form, but why organise something when I didn't even know if my ADD brain would even finish the manuscript. After all, I have a pile of them. Incomplete and dusty pages of dribble from pre-computer days, along with the mess of neglected archived files on mass storage devises, collecting cobwebs in their own techie kind of way.

But again, I digress...

So, while trolling publishers and investigating the how-too's and where-for's of the modern day literary world, I discovered the unthinkable. There is a monster preying on the lives of the modern day writer. Whether your published or not, the shadow of the creature lurks, tracking your every move. It's tentacles slowly reach for you, attempting to invade your soul. The beast's mystical powers of deception lull your once alert sense of foreboding, allow him to caress you and draw you closer. Now your within striking distance, your jugular exposed. Fangs pierce your skin, injecting a venom that targets your mind, eroding your creativity and encouraging you to seek distraction within the monsters arms. Once taken into the monsters embrace it is hard to break free, sharp talons pierce your body, clawing toward your heart. If the creature obtains your heart, it's all over, you are lost. You become enslaved. Trying to break free causes pain, you must obey the beast, seek solace, submit to its ever controlling will. You have become ensnared in the social networking world and your life will never be the same again.

I hear you all scoffing... Yeah, right! Crazy woman! But deep inside you know I'm telling the truth.

I started my dance with the monster about six months ago. A lot of the publishers I approached insisted authors have an Internet presence. Whether you're published or not, you need an online profile. Personal marketing gone made, attract readers for a book that isn't yet accepted for publication. Realising the fight to avoid said Internet exploitation was a losing battle, I conceded defeat and opened my google home page. How do you build an Internet presence? I felt the dark shadow drift over me, a chill quivered along my spine, the caress of something near my ankle caught my attention and I looked down. The tentacle of the god of knowledge encircled my ankle and wound it's way around my shin. Of course, you allow the beast to approach.

I already had a facebook profile, it was amusing at times. I posted stupid things and made the odd comment on friend's walls. I didn't mind going on there every so often, seeing what my real and pretend facebook friends were doing. I did however, recognise it for the time waster it was. So now, in order to look more appealing to prospective publishers I had to revisit not only facebook, but other sites I previously chose to ignore. My first step was to create a facebook page to highlight my work. It took me a nearly a day to set up. By the time I had filled in all the information, chosen pictures, sent invites, and read all the disclosure statements, I had wasted more time than I anticipated. I slowly started getting people to like the page...sloowwwly. Deciding I must be doing something wrong, I mean, why didn't I have a million followers in a week, I looked at what else I could do. A tentacle,  the god of inspiration, wrapped around my left leg. Genius....I'll write a blog. Time rolled by, a few days in fact. I had to find the blog site that suited me, then design the blog page. Again, more pictures, more info about me, my work... blah blah blah. The first blog post finally went live. Hallelujah! Praise the tentacle god of inspiration.

Eight weeks later, after posting on facebook, writing blogs, and sharing the blog to my facebook wall I had the strange feeling I should be doing more. There was a caress on my back, another tickle of inspiration as the tentacle god of seduction encircled my waist. I needed more social networking hits, more traffic to the blog, more facebook friends liking my page. I need to do more, to get more. Twitter, everyone talks about twitter. Sign up, write the profile, follow people, encourage people to follow me... more, more, more. Tweet this and tweet that. Link twitter to facebook, facebook to twitter, send the blog post to both. Now I'm getting the hang of self promotion. Now I'm getting word out about me. Now I'm connecting. The first offer of a contract, made me cry with relief. The second contract had me dancing around the house. Dancing hand in tentacle with monster, allowing the mystical powers of deception to fill my senses. Must tweet, post, blog. announce to the world I'm going to be published. When the email arrived asking for my website address I panicked. Then I felt the beast's warm breath on my neck, deception whispered in my ear. Its' easy, design a website now. A week later my website went live. Must tweet, post, blog, tell the world I have a website. The monsters tentacles pulsed around me, deception lulled me into a quiet satisfaction that I was doing everything as I should, I relaxed.

When the intervention came I tried to deny it. The lady of the industrial city didn't hold back her concern.
      "If you can write the first book in four months, how is it you've only written two chapters of the second book in the last six months. You aren't going to make a living on one novel. When was the last time your worked on the book? You do need to write you know, isn't that what your supposed to be...a writer."
I write. I write every day! I tweet, I post, I comment, I chat, I blog... I WRITE! At the periphery of my vision I saw a man. He was pale, thin, the tone of his muscles less defined. He'd was dejected, alone, obviously neglected...it was Steve, my hero from the second manuscript. What had I done?

Suddenly the hot breath on my throat annoyed me. The tentacles of seduction, inspiration and knowledge, tightened painfully. I turned to stare into the monster's eyes. Deception radiated toward me, he was eyeing the pulse at my throat, lips snarled back to expose fang dripping with venom. OMG, I write social networking waffle everyday. I flung my fists at the beast chest, I struggled. I screamed out to Steve, his gaze lifted, and he smiled. I held out my hand and he rushed toward me, prying the tentacles from my body with his bare hands. Work with me, his unspoken message invaded my mind, allowing me time to think clearly. I imagined a sword, fire licking at it's chiseled blade, chains empowered with magic to secure any mythical beast who threatened the weak. Steve took up the weaponry and stuck at the beast. Tentacles lacerated, I fell to the ground. He swung the chain. Fangs shattered, before it's mouth was bound, tightly shut. Steve encircled the beast's body with he remain chain, tentacles strapped to it's body, legs shackled...immobilised.

Steve and I embraced, he administered a healing salve to my wounds and we walked away, together. But what of the beast. Steve explained I needed to keep him, a bound reminder of distractions that lay in wait, taking my focus off the prize. The monster quickly shrank in size, he sits on my desk, approaching my keyboard twice a day at the times I designate. He whimpers and looks at me forlornly until I allow him to feed. We visit the social networking site together, no more than an hour or two a day. So far the existence is a happy one. Steve and I have resumed work, his strength regained, his presence within my mind now firm and, as always, protective. I am once again the master of my own destiny...and Mistress to a little shackled beast who wobbles around my desk complaining the chains are too tight.

Do you want the truth or something beautiful?

Submissions have been driving me nuts recently. Yes I've been doing them, apparently an author needs to do submissions to publishing houses if she actually wants her book to make it into print or even ebook format.... who knew...lol. I send off one, then get a thanks but no thanks letter and I send off another one to someone else. Trying to find a publisher for a novel is really the most frustrating thing I've done in a long while. Yes it's a fact of life if you choose writing as a career, I understand that but I'm not really finding pleasure in the dance I am now engaged in.

It wasn't until I went and had a sulk in bed the other day, that I realised finding a publisher is a bit like dating. I know my mind is strange but bear with me... I'm about to ramble and then hopefully reach a poignant conclusion.

When you meet someone your interested in and get to go out on a date you are faced with a few choices, and I'm not talking about where to go. I'm talking personal choices. I find the choice is basically summed up by the Paloma Faith song "Do you want the truth or something beautiful?"

You put on the outfit you keep for special occasions because it makes you look better that anything else you own. It might be that tight skirt that shows how perfectly rounded your butt is, along with the top that you bought when you went out shopping and your girlfriend said 'that make your tits look great, you so need to buy it.' You add the lace top stockings and your highest platforms that you sometimes refer to as your 'come fuck me shoes'. Next you get out the paint and move onto your face. You add a little foundation just to make sure the uneven tone is covered, the mascara and eyeliner highlights your eyes making them more alluring, the lipstick makes your lips look fuller and more kissable. You straighten your hair, ensure it has a nice shine..... by the time you get out in public you look like a new woman..... and for what? To impress someone you know very little about.

So he sits through dinner and talks at you (about himself of course) he burps loudly, looks at the asses of the other women who walk past the table and when he's disinterested in what you're saying, he stares at your tits. I mean really, you knew you shouldn't have worn that push up bra and top that makes them look great, what else did you expect? You console yourself that at least he's not yawning. By the end of the night you may or may not have decided to have sex with him, depending on how cute he is.

The next day after you've made him breakfast he looks at you and sees who you really are. Your hair is now a wavy mess with a few dry ends, because you showered late last night after he decided to cum all over your tits while having sex. Of course he was sound sleep so had no idea you'd even left the bed. You have no makeup on, your tits aren't as pert because you aren't wearing a bra and the fluffy dressing gown hides your shapely everything.  Arh... finally the truth.

Then the dance really begins, he might call, he might not. He may ask to see more of you before he decides no you're not what he's looking for. If he's nice he'll probably let you know he doesn't want to hear from you again. If not, you just won't hear from him. So, after a designated timeframe, and its different for everyone, you move on. You go out, find someone else and do the dance all over again. Hopefully before you run out of options you meet the one person in the world who thinks that your truth is beautiful.

A dance with a publisher is much the same, minus the sex and need to shower of course. You show an interest in them by sending in the submission. You give them a part of yourself to look at, usually the first three chapters of your manuscript. You make that part of you look as beautiful as you can. You dress the story up in your synopsis, you have the hook line, you try to make it sound interesting within the guidelines they insist you work within. You give them the pitch and hope they respond favourably.

If the publisher reads on past the initial query and synopsis (i.e. they decided to spend the night.) In the cold light of day things might look different. There are one or two spelling and grammar mistakes (well sorry, after editing 60 million times by myself I'm cross eyed and might have missed a few things here and there.) The manuscript basically fits into the guidelines they have for publication but it doesn't have all of them (oops did I have a DP scene, when I shouldn't have?). The now wavy hair looked better straight.

If they like the beautiful packaging then you might hear from them again, but even then they could still decide that you're not what they are looking for. If they're nice they will probably let you know they don't want to hear from you again. If not you just won't hear anything. So, after a designated timeframe, and its different for everyone, you move on the the next publishing house. You start the dance and hope for a different outcome.

And, just as it is with dating, hopefully before you run out of options you find the publisher who thinks that your truth is beautiful.