Thursday, January 15, 2015

Favorite Cover

Michelle’s Covers
Ten Past Midnight by Jane Toombs  


I like this cover very much. First, because it fits the material perfectly. I love the simplicity of the cover too, and the muted shades of grey and black, the gothic-type font. The book itself contains six stories and three poems on the dark side of paranormal. As it states in the writeup:  ‘Everything from ghouls to the heart-eating Egyptian beast who decides one's fate. Even the touches of romance are definitely different. But what traveler can expect the norm when on the wrong side of midnight? Ten past midnight All's not well. Every road leads right To hell...’

The cover is somewhat reminiscent of cover art of the thirties and forties, and even farther back.  It makes you think of the stories of horror writer  Edgar Allan Poe,  and the likes and times of Jack the Ripper. It has that dark, sinister feel.  Just looking at that cover sends a subtle chill to creep over your skin – in a frighteningly delicious way.  
Read the book.


Favorite Covers by Michelle Lee

Jamie Hill's two cents:

BWL's Art Director has asked us to share our favorite cover and why. I had a horrible time narrowing it down to two. In fact, I could easily choose one favorite for each BWL author! But since we're supposed to choose one, I took the liberty of choosing two.

http://amzn.com/B0057AGQ4W
Heart Throb by Janet Lane Walters
Cover by Michelle Lee


Without reading the blurb, this cover gives you a good idea what this story is about. Romance, with a medical twist. I love the graphics Michelle has weaved through the text including the the heart between the words Heart and Throb. To me, this is a beautiful, sexy romance cover.







http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00904HKQE/
Jack Shadow by Graeme Smith
Cover by Michelle Lee


This is a quirky mystery story and again, without reading a blurb you can tell that from this cover. I love the man, the rain, the font choices and of course the tagline. Now go read the blurb. It'll definitely make you want to read the book!







I could go on and on about my favorite BWL covers but there are simply too many to choose from. My own included! But don't take my word for it...check it out!

Jamie Hill







Favorite Covers Challenge

To start off the new year, I decided to do something a little different with my post - I issued a challenge to the BWL authors.  The rules are really very simple - and I am looking forward to seeing the results.

1. Authors are to post a BWL cover that is one of their favorites that is NOT THEIR OWN.  Obviously, they have their favorites among their own covers - but I am curious what they like about some of the other covers.

2. All of the posts today should be labeled as follows - Favorite Cover: book title by author

3. I instructed them to tell us what they like about the cover.  Be creative and descriptive.  "I like it because it is pretty" isn't enough. :)

4. And finally because I don't want repeats - if someone posts their favorite cover before they get a chance to - they are supposed to just respond in the comments section what they like about it.

Now, because turn about it fair play - at the end of the day, I will post five of my favorites and why.

Let the games begin ...


Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Fireworks, yum cha and vodka by Sheila Claydon

I'm living in Sydney, Australia for a few months. The deal is a winter in the sun in exchange for caring for my nine month old baby granddaughter on the days when both her parents are working. 

So what is it like living in a small city apartment instead of a sprawling house in a village on the northwest coast of England? Well on a daily basis it's not so different. There are still chores to be done and meals to be prepared. True the garden has shrunk to a few pots and a raised bed on the balcony, but there is still greenery, and the wind that whistles up from the harbour is every bit as blustery as the wind back home. The view is very different though. Instead of trees and fields I have a bird's eye view of the city skyline. I also have the added benefit of a pool and a spa and, of course,  the endless warmth that is Australia. No jackets needed, nor shoes really except to be polite. Instead, suncream, dark glasses, a hat and bottled water are de rigueur when leaving the apartment.

The other differences are more interesting though. My daughter-in-law is Chinese and my son has a Russian boss. This means that as well as Australians and Tasmanians they have many friends in the immigrant community, so over Christmas and the New Year I met American lawyers and chemical engineers, a Chinese tea importer and a Russian who owns several diamond mines, Chinese, South American and English bankers, a Phillipino nurse, accountants and financial analysts from China, property investors from Japan, China and Tasmania, an Australian clothes importer, a retired Australian TV producer,  IT specialists from India, the UK and Japan, and other immigrants from Singapore, France, Vietnam and Spain as well as a whole lot of children with the blood of two nations in their genes. It was an eclectic and fascinating mix and everyone of them without exception was friendly, outgoing and full of confidence. Inevitably this rainbow nation has given me a whole lot of ideas for future books, so many in fact that it's unlikely I'll ever be able to use them all.

More importantly, I've learned a lot about the traditions of other cultures. Although it's obviously a generalisation, I've discovered that many Asian parents co-sleep with their children in the early years. The mothers also follow their toddlers from room to room with a bowl of food or a drink in order to spoon a morsel into their mouths whenever they can. Despite having a well paid and successful career some of the brightest women succumb to their ancestral traditions, another of which includes being confined to bed for a month after giving birth while their mother takes care of the baby. Fortunately, from my perspective, my highly educated daughter-in-law refused to comply when her own daughter was born and my granddaughter is fast becoming a robust Australian who sits happily in her high chair, eats everything offered and  sleeps 7 - 7, alone, in her own bed. 

I've learned that manners vary enormously too and so do eating habits. On the whole the Chinese eschew anything sweet, never drink wine with rice, eat enormous amounts of vegetables and are very health conscious, whereas Europeans, Australians and Americans prefer BBQs with large quantities of meat and fish, rarely refuse the fries, and are happy to drink wine or beer with everything. 

Dress is very casual too. Shorts, t-shirts and thongs are the order of the day whether it's a BBQ, a shopping trip, or a day at the beach, and every Friday is 'Dress Down Friday' at work. The only exception is a party and even then it's mostly the women who turn on the glamour. And how the people of Sydney party. Celebrations started at the beginning of December and carried on until well after the New Year. Now they are enjoying a short hiatus before Australia Day and then it will be the Chinese New Year. 

The thing I've noticed more than anything though, is how young the population is. Everywhere I go there are young people enjoying themselves and pregnant women and babies of all nationalities, shapes and sizes. In the city as well as at the tourist spots there are fathers pushing strollers, tiny babies in carriers, toddlers tripping over their own feet, and older children, brown as berries, dancing along in thongs and shorts. Of course with all this youth comes technology and on the train the other day my husband and I were amused to discover we were the only people actually conversing. Everyone else in the very crowded carriage was plugged into a device be it an iPod, a cell phone or an electronic reader. 

Best of of all, however, was my meeting with an Anglo Indian from London who is married to an American lawyer and lives in New York. She was visiting her brother and his Chinese wife for the festive season - the ethic mix in Australia is truly mind blowing. Discovering that I am a writer  she not only downloaded Mending Jodie's Heartthe first book of my When Paths Meet trilogy, while she was talking to me, she also told me she was taking it to her book club as soon as she returned to the States. She did, however, check with me first that the heroine was feisty and independent. If not then the book was an absolute no no! As if I would ever write anything else.....


And lastly and most intriguingly I met Lady Sippington but you'll have to wait until next month's post to discover her story.

Many of my books can be found on the Books We Love website at  http://bookswelove.net/authors/sheila-claydon/

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Facing Rejection by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey


Facing Rejection

Rejection: the act of rejecting; the state of being rejected; a thing rejected.
Rejection slip: a note from a publisher rejecting the accompanying returned manuscript.
Like most writers I have received form rejection slips and form rejection emails telling me politely that the publishing house is unable to accept my manuscript. An example: Thank you for considering ECW. Unfortunately, Controling (sic) Her Death is not right for us. I wish you every success in finding a home for your book.
However, I have also received emails and letters giving me more details about the rejection and adding a few encouraging words about my manuscript.

 Dear Joan,
Thanks for submitting Controlling Her Death: My Mother's Date With Suicide to Coach House Books. Our editors noted that there's both an immediacy and a poignancy to the prose that draws the reader in from the first page.
Sadly, however, we can't offer to take it on for Coach House. We can publish only a few novels each year, and we have a surfeit of exceptional manuscripts. This leaves us in the unfortunate position of being unable to house many of the fine manuscripts we receive. We’re sorry to say that we aren’t able to fit your work on our list.
We wish you all the very best in finding a good home for it.
Sincerely,
Coach House Books

 Dear Joan Donaldson-Yarmey
Thank you for submitting your manuscript The Nursery to Ronsdale Press for possible publication. Our readers have now made their reports, and I am sorry to inform you that they have recommended against publication.
After reading your excerpt our principal editor noted, "This is well written and has a great opening, but I find that it moves too slowly and that her memories-at least at the beginning-are the sort of thing that has been often written about. There is little sense of excitement or the strange. The Stone Angel does something similar, but with more verve.
We wish you well in finding a publisher for your manuscript.
Yours sincerely
Cheyanne Turions
Publishing Assistant.

 But a rejection, however nicely worded, is still a rejection and it is hard to accept. In the beginning of my writing career I went through a three day grieving process each time I received a rejection letter.
On the first day I would feel totally depressed. I would question why I was writing, who did I think I was trying to write a novel? I would decided that this would be the last day that I wrote anything. I would wallow in self-pity, shed a tear in frustration, and even kick a door.
Day two would bring anger. Anger at the publisher for rejecting my manuscript. Anger at the months it had taken me to write the seventy-five thousand words. Anger at myself for not having written a publishable novel. I would try to figure out how to change it to make it better.
Day three brought a realization that maybe a different publisher might like it. There is the saying: right idea, right publisher, right day. With a renewed enthusiasm I would send it out again and again. I would decide that no one could take away the fact that I had written a manuscript, that I had had the nerve to send it to a publisher.
We writers are supposed develop thick skins. We are supposed to detach ourselves from our work. We are supposed to realize that we are not being judged, that our intelligence, our sense of humour, our sex appeal, and our character are not on the line. What is being judged is just that one piece of writing we have done. But it is a piece of writing that we have written, that we have spent hours at producing. Sometimes, it is tough not to take a publisher's rejection personally.
But the point is to carry on. With multiple submissions being allowed if one publisher rejects my manuscript I have the two or three others to look forward to hearing from. Sometimes I can have two manuscripts and two or three short stories out in the 'please publish me' world at one time. And when I finish one novel, I start another so I am engrossed in it to spend much time worring about the previous one.
The difference between being a success or being a failure is quitting too soon. And we all know of famous writers whose works were rejected many times before being accepted and becoming best sellers. Here are a few of the rejections letters:
"We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias. They do not sell."
Stephen Kings first published novel, Carrie, was rejected so many times that King collected the letters on a spike in his bedroom. When finally published in 1974, 30,000 copies were printed. A year later the paperback version sold over a million copies in 12 months.
"You’re welcome to le Carré – he hasn’t got any future."
One publisher sent this to a colleague after turning down The Spy Who Came in From the Cold.
"For your own sake, do not publish this book."
A publisher wrote to DH Lawrence about his novel Lady Chatterley's Lover.
Maybe rejection letters make us better writers, maybe they make us better people, or maybe they just annoy us. Whatever our reaction we have to remember that, with publishers receiving thousands of manuscripts each year, being rejected is just one part of the whole writing process.

http://www.facebook.com/writingsbyjoan
https://www.amazon.com/author/joandonaldsonyarmey

 
Gold Fever

 
Books of The Travelling Detective Series boxed set:
Illegally Dead
The Only Shadow In The House
Whistler's Murder
http://amzn.com/B00KF07FQM

Monday, January 12, 2015

Who inspires you? By Rita Karnopp

Recently I read through some interviews I did way back when – and I found these three questions and answers worth sharing.

If you were to start your writing career over tomorrow, what would you do differently?  Wow… I would have taken my first book to two published writers, or paid an editor, to go through it and tell me what needed to be changed.  I would have learned from those mistakes rewritten that first book, before starting my second book.  Then I would have repeated the process.  Why?  I wrote ten books before an editor touched my work.  I could have saved myself a lot of work had I learned early on what mistakes I was making, so I didn’t repeat them in each book.

What authors -you know personally- have inspired your writing? I must say Kat Martin has been and incredible inspiration and support.  She believed in me and my writing.  Stella Cameron has given me sound advice as well as been a great source of inspiration and support.  Also writer BJ Daniels is very inspirational, a Montana author who exudes confidence and a direction in her writing career.

What authors - you don’t know personally - have inspired your writing? I drew great inspiration from Cassie Edwards and Sheryl Henke, Dean Koontz and Lisa Jackson.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

When the Stock Market was 800 by Karla Stover


                                                          My Stock Market Experience

     I started working at Merrill Lynch as a B-wire (business wire) clerk on July 26, 1965. The market was 800. Of those early years, the job I most remember was retyping business news that came daily from New York via an old telegraph machine onto a silk screen, attaching the silk screen to the silkscreen machine (a messy process involving lots of India ink) running paper copies off, and distributing the info to the men. I say, “men” because though Merrill Lynch hired Washington State’s first female stock broker, that momentous occasion wasn’t until the 1980s.
     Three months after I started, I was promoted to wire operator, which meant I was entering orders. The brokers wrote up their buy and sell tickets and walked them back to me. I sat in front of a machine, typed the orders on a ticket tape, and fed the tape into the machine. One man put many of his clients into Coeur d' Alene Mining and that's how I learned to spell Coeur d' Alene. The tapes were put in a bag at the end of the day and the bag was saved for a month in case someone received a confirmation of their trade and disputed it. If I made a mistake, my office had to pay for whatever it cost to make things good. I had a couple of problems during this period in my career: one was that we were on the second floor and the bathroom was on the third and the other was that it was hard to get a potty break. Many times, I sat at the machine from 6:00, when the market opened here on the wet coast, until 3:00 when I left for the day, with no break at all.

     I also operated the switchboard which was in the reception area in an L off the
boardroom. We had approximately a dozen lines and sometimes they were all in use. When that happened and someone wanted to make a call, I waited for someone else to hang up, then leaned over the counter and shouted, “Mr. _______, I have an open line now.” And I'd plug him in.

    I was very young when I started and afraid to go into the building, take the elevator up, unlock the office door, and go in by myself, especially after mass-murderer, Richard Speck was all over
the news. My husband and I carpooled so he came in with me every morning and checked all the
closets. When I was promoted to bookkeeper and started later, I was a happy camper.

     Looking back, some of the things I experienced seem hard to believe. One morning one of the
brokers came up and asked, “If I would like to go up to the roof and help him erect something.” I
turned beet-red and he added, “Like a flagpole.” A couple of years later, he shot himself in the head at a local gun range. One of the men killed his wife; he said his gun went off when he was cleaning it. One man drank, and when he was on a binge and drinking too much he’d get arrested and held overnight. When that happened, he’d call in orders from the pokey to whomever was in the office and available to take them. I coped with everything except the lunch issue: the secretaries had an hour for lunch but we in bookkeeping were only give 30 minutes. I pitched a fit over that.

     All in all, my career at Merrill was a mixed blessing, and I was sure glad to retire. Many, many
of the people I worked with over the years left the firm and went to other brokerage houses in town. I
stuck it out so my 401k would continue to grow, but with a little imagination, you can figure out what
I did during the 30 minutes of my last day.

PS: One day in the mid-1970s, when I was the manager of the bookkeeping department, one of my employees left the office at noon and never returned. She'd met several college guys who were sailing San Francisco that afternoon and she decided to go with them.  She later called me from a ship-to-shore radio and asked if I'd hold her job open until she returned.

    

 

      

           

          

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