If you're curious about what's going on with me or my work, I would LOVE to send you a newsletter! I send a few different types of email newsletter. JCP News is the monthly big email with articles, links and recommendations that comes out the 15th of each month. The Quick Link email will alert you if I have a new book out. Saturday Snippet is a fun quickie with a story quote, deleted scene, flash fic or other small goodie that I'll send on a Saturday (but not the same week as the monthly JCP News so as not to bombard you.) The Weekly Coupons is a bit of a misnomer, since I actually run coupons for JCP Books on the 5th and 25th nowadays. And the News about Majenta is for those of you interested in my m/f erotica!
You can also use this form to update your current preferences if you'd like to opt in or out of any of the email groups.
It got me to thinking about goals. It's a perennial discussion I have with my writing friends. My main quantifiable goal was to quit my day job. And after that, goals began feeling counterproductive. I've given up saying "I will write a novel in x-amount of months" because all that does is force a shitty, unpublishable novel out of me and make me miserable.
Some of my writing pals have certain monetary goals, or bestseller lists they want to hit. None of those goals lit me up. I clearly remember a cluster of us standing there in a parking lot earnestly describing what we wanted, and I blurted out, "My goal is to get my head on straight."
Hypnosis, meditation, therapy. Maybe some of it helps. I'm in a really good spot right now, that's freaking exciting.
As far as I can tell, what helped inspire me the most is to watch another author—Sean Platt—working hard and sharing his process without bragging about any milestones he's met. I don't know his typical wordcount (which undoubtedly smokes mine), I don't know how much money he makes (ditto), and we're not on the same charts so I don't need to watch him trouncing me. But I have a perception that he and the rest of his team are "successful" (there's a slippery definition, right?) and listening to him podcast about his daily writing discipline has inspired me to show up early, show up fully, and don't check my damn email or facebook until I'm happy I've got a fat chunk written the mojo's exhausted for the day. Once I slide out of creative-mind, it's gone for the day and I get sucked into admin, social media and correspondence.
What about you, what do you find motivational?
-I muse on sleep quality
-And there's a pretty cool podcast you might enjoy
-How do my readers use ebooks? I asked them!
-New JCP raffle to enter
-Progress report on Spook Squad audio
...plus I thought this chick listening to ebooks in a field of poppies was kind of hilarious.
Find it all here
See all the journal choices here: http://www.cafepress.com/jcpgifts/s__jo
If you like strong personalities, simmering MMM chemistry, and page-turning action, make this your next read.
THE STARVING YEARS
The chemistry between these three men is undeniable, but is it enough to save New York?
Imagine a world without hunger.
In 1960, a superfood was invented that made starvation a thing of the past. Manna, the cheaply manufactured staple food, is now as ubiquitous as salt in the world’s cupboards, pantries and larders.Nelson Oliver knows plenty about manna. He’s a food scientist—according to his diploma, that is. Lately, he’s been running the register at the local video rental dive to scrape together the cash for his outrageously priced migraine medication.
In a job fair gone bad, Nelson hooks up with copywriter Javier and his computer-geek pal Tim, who whisks them away from the worst of the fiasco in his repurposed moving truck. At least, Nelson thinks those two are acquainted, but they’re acting so evasive about it, he’s not sure how they know each other, exactly. Javier is impervious to Nelson’s flirting, and Tim’s name could appear in the dictionary under the entry for “awkward.” And with a riot raging through Manhattan and yet another headache coming on, it doesn’t seem like Nelson will get an answer anytime soon.
One thing’s for sure, the tension between the three of them is thick enough to cut with a knife...even one of those dull plastic dealies that come in the package with Mannariffic EZ-Mealz.
Grab it at Amazon!
In writing I'm a big fan of the wry callback. It's a trust thing. I trust you to remember I made a remark about this thing 100 pages ago and now I'm bringing it back.
As much as dumb gag gifts don't generally humiliate or insult anyone, I'm bewildered by the number and variety available on Amazon, like this yodeling pickle. I like that it doesn't hurt anyone's feelings, I suppose. But I'm still baffled. Maybe it's the new version of silly pranks that never fooled anyone, the stuff you could order from the back of a comic book, like whoopie cushions or see-behind-you glasses.
What about you, what kind of humor do you like? Are pranks and jokes funny to you, or just uncomfortable?
I've run raffles for the past couple of months to tout my mailing list signups and try to drum up a few new reviews, but I'm raffled out for the moment, so this will be the last raffle I do until the gamifying bug bites me again.
Enter here! Raffle runs through 3/30.
Such a Victor Bayne moment. I saw a cute little lime green Ford in the YMCA parking lot and pulled up to park beside it. As I walked between the cars, my gym bag swung and tapped the sideview mirror...and the mirror casing fell off.
I was like, fuck, I noticed a cute car and then I BROKE IT.
I tried to pop it back on and it didn't seem to really fit well. Then I had no idea what to do. Should I go inside and have them page the owner? Should I set the casing on half-assedly and let them think THEY broke it? (I wouldn't actually do a dick move like that but it was tempting.) Eventually I set the casing on the windshield over the steering wheel so the driver couldn't miss it.
When my class was done she was there (yay!) so I could at least have some resolution. She told me she hit her house with that sideview and now that part doesn't fit right, so it wasn't me after all.