How have we finished the first quarter of the year already? It still feels like February. Hell, some days it still feels like 2020.
Saturday, April 2, 2022
March Roundup
Tuesday, March 22, 2022
How to support an indie author #842
I'm happy to support my local independent bookstores, but it's difficult to get them to stock books by indie writers because we can't afford to give the wholesale discount that a large traditional publisher can.
As an example, I just changed the discount percentage for my paperbacks because my cut of a $15.99 paperback was... $0.80.
All the rest was split between the bookstore, the printer, and shipping costs - not to mention that bookstores prefer to be able to return unsold books, which will then either be destroyed or returned to the author. For an additional cost.
I don't expect to get rich from writing, but I'd like to buy the occasional cup of coffee. Am I wrong?
Paperbacks are $14.99 (same as Amazon, but which include a bookmark, a signature, and shipping). Ebooks of all three titles are also available for $4.99 each. I can walk you through how to download them onto your Kindle or other device. Discounts available for purchases of two or more books.
Friday, March 11, 2022
Help Wanted (Needed?)
Apparently I can write, but when it comes to graphic design, I'm a bit challenged.
Decision-making regarding graphic design, even more so.
I use photographs of ceilings for my book covers, and within the next few months, I'll be combining Songbird, A Wider World and Lady, in Waiting into an e-book box set. (Not doing a paperback because it would cost a bomb and come in at over a thousand pages, and no one has the hands for that).
I don't have that requirement for the box set cover. It just needs to look period appropriate, which all these are, and work with the font used on the covers, which they will.
BUT I CAN'T DECIDE.
Which one is your favorite? Help a graphically-challenged author out. Please.
Wednesday, March 2, 2022
February Roundup
Keeping track has been fun this month. Not.
Saturday, February 19, 2022
Video of Live Reading
And here it is - the video of my live reading from A Wider World and Lady, in Waiting. It ran a little longer than expected, because I did Margaery's introduction from the previous book and also answered a few questions at the end.
Let me know what you think!
Friday, February 11, 2022
Live reading!
Okay, folks, it's happening again. I'm doing a live reading from Lady, in Waiting on Sunday, February 13, 2022, at 7:00 p.m. eastern.
I wasn't certain I would do a reading again - before it was mandated by the publisher, so I had to - but it turns out I kind of enjoy the terror in a strange way, so...
There's no point in having stage fright for only a few people.
Sunday is the Super Bowl. I'm not watching, but many of you are, so you can always tune in for the replay. Also, if it's at all an issue, I promise to be done by half time.
The link for the event is here.
If you have any questions you'd like answered, please post them here or on the event page on Facebook, because if I'm wearing the glasses that allow me to read from the Kindle, I won't be seeing what pops up on my phone screen.
I may be wrong, but I don't think you need a Facebook account to watch. (If it doesn't work, watch this space instead - unless it's a total trash fire, I'll be posting the video here within a few days of the reading.
Monday, February 7, 2022
Chapter One
One week out!
Because I love free samples (the "look inside the book" feature is the best thing Amazon's ever done), below is Chapter One of Lady, in Waiting.
I hope you enjoy the beginning of Margaery's story, and if you're so inclined, you can check out the rest here.
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If my father hadn’t lost his head, my life would be very different. In point of fact, he did not lose his head; it was severed from his body with three strokes of an ax.
I should know. I was there.
One day I was a happy child, the center of a loving family, and the next my father was dragged from the house, accused of treason, and executed. My family left England, and I grew to womanhood far from home.
With such uncertain beginnings, a young woman might find herself capable of anything. She might wish to escape her situation so badly that she proposes marriage to a man she’s just met, thinking it will give her some measure of control over her life.
#
Less than a week after our wedding, my husband left for England. My grandmother and I followed on the next ship.
We had been out of England eighteen years, during which time Winterset had become Robin Lewis’s home. It was one of the reasons I married him. When he first appeared at our isolated home in Normandy, I resented his presence, but I quickly realized he was a solution, not another problem: he was more acceptable than the men put forward by my mother and her husband, and if I married him, my grandmother could return to her beloved estate.
Tall and bony, with red hair gone thin in the back and a decided way about him, Robin was not my dream husband, but then I’d never dreamed of marriage. I knew only the sort of man I did not want, and if Mama had her way, those men would soon be lining up in the lane, eager to claim my inheritance.
Family money aside, most men wouldn’t consider me a prize. While I was young, and looked well enough, I had been raised away from society and my manners showed it. I read books that young ladies did not read. My opinions were strong, and I had been known to raise my voice in company and interrupt my betters.
Such behavior was not cherished by my mother, and my stepfather found me troublesome in the extreme. He tried various methods to break my will, and I ran away to my grandparents after one incident, having forced a stable lad to swap clothes so I could travel unnoticed.
After close questioning, my grandfather declined to return me to their care. With my grandfather, I could live as I pleased—within reason. After his death, Grand-mère deflected my mother’s marital plans until I made one of my own. Then she fell in with my scheme, deeming it no worse than theirs, and possibly—when she realized we would return to England—far better.
Robin was the one who balked. He claimed to be too old and set in his ways, and that I would not be happy. I bribed him with Winterset, and a promise not to disturb the peaceful life he’d built there. I was an heiress, I blithely assured him, and could make a new marriage when he died of old age.
But I didn’t want that. I didn’t know Robin well—he did not allow himself to be easily known—but I liked him. In time, I thought we could learn to care for each other.
#
