Simone Pond's Blog
January 14, 2015
Words are eternal
I haven't posted in a while because I've been too dark. I decided to drive up to Ojai — my favorite place on earth — to get right with myself, and God. There's something magical up here in these mountains.
I just read a post from one of my favorite authors, Hugh Howey, regarding the self-publishing industry. I was so inspired by his words that I had to write a new post. He's the reason I decided to stop torturing myself with trying to publish the traditional route.
A few years ago, I had been shopping around my memoir (the one that died a horrible death). I had just received my fiftieth "thanks, but no thanks" and I felt like giving up. Instead, I put the memoir down and picked up my fiction manuscript I had started a while back. A little scrappy thing called The City Center. While I was at a writer's conference I had spoken to an agent and she liked the first ten pages, but asked me why there were people living inside the city center and I didn't know. Yikes. So I started brainstorming ideas and rewriting my manuscript, but I just couldn't come up with a solid reason about why they were inside the damn center.
Until one day in church, I heard the answer. It came to me like a bolt of lightning. I scribbled it down on a piece of paper and from that point I was able to finish my manuscript. Once it was in a good place, I started drafting my query letter. Yes, I was going to start querying agents again. Surely I'd have better luck. This book wasn't about my depressing alcoholic life. It was a dystopian sci-fi in the same vein as The Hunger Games. It'd be a hit! But when I started writing the query letter I got sick to my stomach. I just couldn't — no matter how hard I tried — come up with a reason to put myself through that torture again.
That's when I started reading Hugh Howey's story about his self-publishing journey and I thought maybe I could take that route. I had already self-published a couple of humor books and a book of essays, and though they were more personal and not marketed, I knew I had it in me to give it a shot. Only I wanted to take a more professional approach. I realized if I wanted to have any inkling of success, it'd be like running my own business. I voraciously studied the self-publishing industry and marketing. When I finally felt like I kinda sorta maybe knew what I was doing, I published The City Center.
Two years later, I have three published works and all three have hit Amazon's bestseller list in their category many times. I still haven't hit my childhood dream of making the NY Times bestseller list and I'm not making a living from my royalties (yet), but the fact that I have published works floating around in the world — and that readers enjoy them — is the greatest joy of my life (I just wrote this to Hugh Howey). I’ve been writing since I was a little girl. I started blogging in 2006 and wrote to a tiny audience. And I still do. But that doesn’t matter. Sometimes I get caught up in the world and read too many articles about building my platform, or how to reach a wider audience, or how to be the best friggin’ marketing genius ever in the entire world. And after I spin around in the cycle for a day or two, I dry off and get back to what really matters: writing. God gave me a desire to write. I’m going to fulfill that every single day of my life. Regardless if anyone is reading, buying or talking about my work. Success comes and goes, but words are eternal.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
I just read a post from one of my favorite authors, Hugh Howey, regarding the self-publishing industry. I was so inspired by his words that I had to write a new post. He's the reason I decided to stop torturing myself with trying to publish the traditional route.
A few years ago, I had been shopping around my memoir (the one that died a horrible death). I had just received my fiftieth "thanks, but no thanks" and I felt like giving up. Instead, I put the memoir down and picked up my fiction manuscript I had started a while back. A little scrappy thing called The City Center. While I was at a writer's conference I had spoken to an agent and she liked the first ten pages, but asked me why there were people living inside the city center and I didn't know. Yikes. So I started brainstorming ideas and rewriting my manuscript, but I just couldn't come up with a solid reason about why they were inside the damn center.
Until one day in church, I heard the answer. It came to me like a bolt of lightning. I scribbled it down on a piece of paper and from that point I was able to finish my manuscript. Once it was in a good place, I started drafting my query letter. Yes, I was going to start querying agents again. Surely I'd have better luck. This book wasn't about my depressing alcoholic life. It was a dystopian sci-fi in the same vein as The Hunger Games. It'd be a hit! But when I started writing the query letter I got sick to my stomach. I just couldn't — no matter how hard I tried — come up with a reason to put myself through that torture again.
That's when I started reading Hugh Howey's story about his self-publishing journey and I thought maybe I could take that route. I had already self-published a couple of humor books and a book of essays, and though they were more personal and not marketed, I knew I had it in me to give it a shot. Only I wanted to take a more professional approach. I realized if I wanted to have any inkling of success, it'd be like running my own business. I voraciously studied the self-publishing industry and marketing. When I finally felt like I kinda sorta maybe knew what I was doing, I published The City Center.
Two years later, I have three published works and all three have hit Amazon's bestseller list in their category many times. I still haven't hit my childhood dream of making the NY Times bestseller list and I'm not making a living from my royalties (yet), but the fact that I have published works floating around in the world — and that readers enjoy them — is the greatest joy of my life (I just wrote this to Hugh Howey). I’ve been writing since I was a little girl. I started blogging in 2006 and wrote to a tiny audience. And I still do. But that doesn’t matter. Sometimes I get caught up in the world and read too many articles about building my platform, or how to reach a wider audience, or how to be the best friggin’ marketing genius ever in the entire world. And after I spin around in the cycle for a day or two, I dry off and get back to what really matters: writing. God gave me a desire to write. I’m going to fulfill that every single day of my life. Regardless if anyone is reading, buying or talking about my work. Success comes and goes, but words are eternal.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
December 11, 2014
An open book
Is it possible to have postpartum depression if you've never given birth?
Since I launched my last book, I've been feeling a lot like what the Mayo clinic says happens to some women after giving birth: "a jumble of powerful emotions, from excitement and joy to fear and anxiety. But it can also result in something you might not expect — depression."
Hand raised! Yes. Yes, that's me. Only I didn't have a baby. I had a book. I should be celebrating, right? I guess some people do. I tried, but a wall of depression got in the way. (Mothers: I'm not saying writing and publishing a book is anything close to making and birthing a baby, I'm just saying I relate to the symptoms of postpartum depression, except for the joyful part and breastfeeding.)
These last few weeks have been like trying to walk up a rocky crag without any shoes, alone in the rain, with a four-hundred pound backpack. Maybe that's a bit dramatic. Okay, the backpack is fifty pounds. At the bottom of this sadness is the fact that reality isn't matching my expectations. Also, the radio silence from friends has been slightly discouraging (seriously, if you ever want people to avoid you like the plague -- publish some books). But underneath the superficial junk is the glaring fear that I'm not good enough. Good enough for what? Still trying to figure that one out.
Many authors/artists/musicians go through similar feelings after releasing work into the world. Months of being alone in your head, hunched over the laptop and listening to people who aren't really there can seem like a form of madness, and when you finally come up for air to share your precious work with the world, it's freaking scary and weird. And it's worse when the reception doesn't look like Carrie Bradshaw's. Maybe I need me a Samantha?
The last couple of days have been better. I'm not hitting the refresh button on my sales page six hundred times, and I've stopped checking for new reviews. It's time to take the needle off the record and chill out. Anything worth something takes time. If I could buy a virtue it'd be patience.
Writing about this stuff might seem weak, but I've found (like my tagline says) that when I expose my demons they lose their power over me and I can live again.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
Since I launched my last book, I've been feeling a lot like what the Mayo clinic says happens to some women after giving birth: "a jumble of powerful emotions, from excitement and joy to fear and anxiety. But it can also result in something you might not expect — depression."
Hand raised! Yes. Yes, that's me. Only I didn't have a baby. I had a book. I should be celebrating, right? I guess some people do. I tried, but a wall of depression got in the way. (Mothers: I'm not saying writing and publishing a book is anything close to making and birthing a baby, I'm just saying I relate to the symptoms of postpartum depression, except for the joyful part and breastfeeding.)
These last few weeks have been like trying to walk up a rocky crag without any shoes, alone in the rain, with a four-hundred pound backpack. Maybe that's a bit dramatic. Okay, the backpack is fifty pounds. At the bottom of this sadness is the fact that reality isn't matching my expectations. Also, the radio silence from friends has been slightly discouraging (seriously, if you ever want people to avoid you like the plague -- publish some books). But underneath the superficial junk is the glaring fear that I'm not good enough. Good enough for what? Still trying to figure that one out.
Many authors/artists/musicians go through similar feelings after releasing work into the world. Months of being alone in your head, hunched over the laptop and listening to people who aren't really there can seem like a form of madness, and when you finally come up for air to share your precious work with the world, it's freaking scary and weird. And it's worse when the reception doesn't look like Carrie Bradshaw's. Maybe I need me a Samantha?
The last couple of days have been better. I'm not hitting the refresh button on my sales page six hundred times, and I've stopped checking for new reviews. It's time to take the needle off the record and chill out. Anything worth something takes time. If I could buy a virtue it'd be patience.
Writing about this stuff might seem weak, but I've found (like my tagline says) that when I expose my demons they lose their power over me and I can live again.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
November 25, 2014
Why readers make writing so much more fun
I'm down to the last few days prior to the launch of my third book, The Mainframe. I wanted to write a glowing post about how amazing it's been preparing for the launch, but I have to say, it hasn't been pretty -- emotionally speaking. I've been very weird and messy. I'm still eating and showering, most of my friends are still talking to me, and my husband hasn't left me (yet), so that's good.
I've spent the last two months dividing my time between finalizing the production of the book and handling the marketing promotions. At one point I was simultaneously reading four books on book marketing, in addition to ten articles a day. Needless to say, I've done everything in my earthly power to get the word out. Now comes the hardest part: letting go. I have a sticky note on my computer that reads: I am powerless over the outcome. I still find time to debate this point, but I end up reaching the same annoying conclusion -- I am powerless.
My job is to provide my readers with good stories and if I've done my part, they'll do the rest for me. Word of mouth will always be the best form of advertising, and this is something the marketing gurus cannot teach.
Here's why readers make writing so much more fun (I love the outtakes):
http://youtu.be/69FIkM7Eb1M
I've spent the last two months dividing my time between finalizing the production of the book and handling the marketing promotions. At one point I was simultaneously reading four books on book marketing, in addition to ten articles a day. Needless to say, I've done everything in my earthly power to get the word out. Now comes the hardest part: letting go. I have a sticky note on my computer that reads: I am powerless over the outcome. I still find time to debate this point, but I end up reaching the same annoying conclusion -- I am powerless.
My job is to provide my readers with good stories and if I've done my part, they'll do the rest for me. Word of mouth will always be the best form of advertising, and this is something the marketing gurus cannot teach.
Here's why readers make writing so much more fun (I love the outtakes):
http://youtu.be/69FIkM7Eb1M
November 14, 2014
Excerpt from The Mainframe by Simone Pond
Today I thought I'd post an excerpt from my latest book, The Mainframe, which releases on December 1st. I hope you'll add it to your wish list so you can see what happens next . . .
Ava awoke from a deep sleep, feeling groggy and half drugged. Her temples throbbed and each cell dragged through her body. She didn’t remember going to bed, or falling asleep. She especially didn’t recall putting on a delicate nightgown of soft satin. She usually slept in a tank top. She sat up and looked around the room to get her bearings. Nothing made sense. Not the enormous king-size bed or the overstuffed feather comforters, or the chiffon canopy hanging over her head. She got out of bed and looked around the room to figure out where she was. Massive crystal chandeliers dangled from the vaulted ceilings. The room was far too opulent to be inside the academy. No, she thought, these chambers are fit for a queen. And she had been here before. A long time ago. A very long time ago. She went over to the windows and peered out to the vast green forest of trees that stretched across the Los Angeles basin all the way to the Pacific Ocean.
“Impossible,” she whispered, leaning against the glass to keep from collapsing.
This was the same room at the Royal Palace where Morray had held her prisoner sixteen years ago. She stood by these same windows just before she made her speech and just before Joseph’s men stormed the Arena and took down Morray. The walls shifted to gray, and the edges of the room closed in on her. She staggered over to the white lounger to sit down and catch her breath. How could she be sitting in a place that no longer existed? Years ago, the New Democracy had demolished the palace. She wondered if she were having a lucid dream or a very pronounced hallucination. It was too real to be a dream––the intoxicating scent of jasmine, the cold marble floor under her bare feet, and the taste of bile in her throat––but the room defied all logic. This had to be an outright lie. It had to be. There was only one explanation and one man who could concoct such a convincing falsehood . . . Morray.
Ava awoke from a deep sleep, feeling groggy and half drugged. Her temples throbbed and each cell dragged through her body. She didn’t remember going to bed, or falling asleep. She especially didn’t recall putting on a delicate nightgown of soft satin. She usually slept in a tank top. She sat up and looked around the room to get her bearings. Nothing made sense. Not the enormous king-size bed or the overstuffed feather comforters, or the chiffon canopy hanging over her head. She got out of bed and looked around the room to figure out where she was. Massive crystal chandeliers dangled from the vaulted ceilings. The room was far too opulent to be inside the academy. No, she thought, these chambers are fit for a queen. And she had been here before. A long time ago. A very long time ago. She went over to the windows and peered out to the vast green forest of trees that stretched across the Los Angeles basin all the way to the Pacific Ocean.
“Impossible,” she whispered, leaning against the glass to keep from collapsing.
This was the same room at the Royal Palace where Morray had held her prisoner sixteen years ago. She stood by these same windows just before she made her speech and just before Joseph’s men stormed the Arena and took down Morray. The walls shifted to gray, and the edges of the room closed in on her. She staggered over to the white lounger to sit down and catch her breath. How could she be sitting in a place that no longer existed? Years ago, the New Democracy had demolished the palace. She wondered if she were having a lucid dream or a very pronounced hallucination. It was too real to be a dream––the intoxicating scent of jasmine, the cold marble floor under her bare feet, and the taste of bile in her throat––but the room defied all logic. This had to be an outright lie. It had to be. There was only one explanation and one man who could concoct such a convincing falsehood . . . Morray.
November 10, 2014
It's National Novel Writing Month
Maybe you've noticed some writers talking about NaNoWriMo and wondered what that insane-sounding acronym means. It's basically another method of torture for writers by agreeing to write 50,000 words in 30 days. So if all goes well, I'll have a really shitty first draft by the end of November.
It sounds like a lot (because it is), but it can be done. I've done it before. They weren't good words, but they were words. And I got a sticker!!!
Ten days in and I'm feeling pretty good. Since I write every day, the routine has already been established (and that really is the toughest part), but I'm approaching this writing exercise unlike any previous projects. I didn't do a meticulous outline. I didn't study my characters and dig down deep into their souls to find out what it is they truly desire and what is keeping them from getting it. Nope. This time around I'm going footloose and fancy free. Almost like a hippie. But with better hygiene.
The project I'm working on is a collection of short stories based on an event that takes place in my New Agenda book series. During the 21st century, a group of elites implemented a program called "the Repatterning." They marketed it as a way to restore society, but in reality it was a man-made apocalypse designed to kill off a majority of the population. These are stories about the people who fought against the Repatterning.
If you're a writer and haven't tried NaNoWriMo yet, I highly recommend getting on board. It doesn't take much. Just a willingness to write a bunch of words and not worry how they sound (yet). There's something magical about building momentum and watching it grow over time. I'm sure if Einstein were alive he'd come up with a theory. Something like "the more you write, the more you write."
Also, I'm proclaiming December is National Editing Month!
Keep writing. It saves lives.
It sounds like a lot (because it is), but it can be done. I've done it before. They weren't good words, but they were words. And I got a sticker!!!
Ten days in and I'm feeling pretty good. Since I write every day, the routine has already been established (and that really is the toughest part), but I'm approaching this writing exercise unlike any previous projects. I didn't do a meticulous outline. I didn't study my characters and dig down deep into their souls to find out what it is they truly desire and what is keeping them from getting it. Nope. This time around I'm going footloose and fancy free. Almost like a hippie. But with better hygiene.
The project I'm working on is a collection of short stories based on an event that takes place in my New Agenda book series. During the 21st century, a group of elites implemented a program called "the Repatterning." They marketed it as a way to restore society, but in reality it was a man-made apocalypse designed to kill off a majority of the population. These are stories about the people who fought against the Repatterning.
If you're a writer and haven't tried NaNoWriMo yet, I highly recommend getting on board. It doesn't take much. Just a willingness to write a bunch of words and not worry how they sound (yet). There's something magical about building momentum and watching it grow over time. I'm sure if Einstein were alive he'd come up with a theory. Something like "the more you write, the more you write."
Also, I'm proclaiming December is National Editing Month!
Keep writing. It saves lives.
October 28, 2014
Award winning, Amazon best seller in dystopian sci-fi, Simone Pond to launch third book
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
CONTACT: Simone Pond
http://www.simonepond.com/
Award winning, Amazon best seller in dystopian sci-fi, Simone Pond to launch third book.
LOS ANGELES, CA, October 25th— Author Simone Pond of Los Angeles, will launch the “The Mainframe” – the third book in her dystopian series – on Dec. 1, 2014.
In 2013, Pond released The City Center, the first book in her dystopian fiction series––a fast-paced tale of love and adventure that will appeal to young adults and seasoned readers alike. The City Center and The New Agenda are bestsellers in Amazon’s post-apocalyptic science fiction category, and recently The City Center was the recipient of a gold medal award from Readers’ Favorite.
The Mainframe is told from the perspective of a rebellious daughter and an overprotective mother, and their struggle to find a common ground in a post-apocalyptic world in order take down their nemesis, Chief Morray. It’s action packed, page-turning fun.
"This story is decorated with familiar things, and at its heart contains thrilling characters and heroic journeys." - RevolutionSF
"It is difficult to believe that The City Center is Simone Pond’s first novel for she writes like a seasoned author. The characters are well developed. This tale is well written and the plot is interesting. I am looking forward to the next book in this series.” – Readers’ Favorite
“The book is solid. The plot works and the action is taut. The revelations before the conclusion are properly shocking and quite insidious. ‘The City Center’ might just be another novel of teenage dystopia, but it does deliver a good story. Recommended for the young and the restless.” – SF Crowsnest
The series continues to win the hearts of readers as Pond transports them into the vast world that spans over decades, following heroic characters and connecting the intricate threads of their lives.
Pond is available for interviews and appearances. For booking presentations, media appearances, interviews, and/or book-signings contact info [at] simonepond.com.
“Independence comes at a price.”
CONTACT: Simone Pond
http://www.simonepond.com/
Award winning, Amazon best seller in dystopian sci-fi, Simone Pond to launch third book.
LOS ANGELES, CA, October 25th— Author Simone Pond of Los Angeles, will launch the “The Mainframe” – the third book in her dystopian series – on Dec. 1, 2014.
In 2013, Pond released The City Center, the first book in her dystopian fiction series––a fast-paced tale of love and adventure that will appeal to young adults and seasoned readers alike. The City Center and The New Agenda are bestsellers in Amazon’s post-apocalyptic science fiction category, and recently The City Center was the recipient of a gold medal award from Readers’ Favorite.
The Mainframe is told from the perspective of a rebellious daughter and an overprotective mother, and their struggle to find a common ground in a post-apocalyptic world in order take down their nemesis, Chief Morray. It’s action packed, page-turning fun.
"This story is decorated with familiar things, and at its heart contains thrilling characters and heroic journeys." - RevolutionSF
"It is difficult to believe that The City Center is Simone Pond’s first novel for she writes like a seasoned author. The characters are well developed. This tale is well written and the plot is interesting. I am looking forward to the next book in this series.” – Readers’ Favorite
“The book is solid. The plot works and the action is taut. The revelations before the conclusion are properly shocking and quite insidious. ‘The City Center’ might just be another novel of teenage dystopia, but it does deliver a good story. Recommended for the young and the restless.” – SF Crowsnest
The series continues to win the hearts of readers as Pond transports them into the vast world that spans over decades, following heroic characters and connecting the intricate threads of their lives.
Pond is available for interviews and appearances. For booking presentations, media appearances, interviews, and/or book-signings contact info [at] simonepond.com.
“Independence comes at a price.”
September 26, 2014
The City Center: Readers' Favorite Gold Medal Winner
As writers we write because most of us don't have a choice. We hear the constant chatter of the narrator in our heads while we're driving around, sitting in class, waiting at the doctor's office, enduring a meeting, taking a shower, dreaming . . . The relentless voice will nag and poke and prod, and it won't stop until we put the words down on paper––or in a word doc.
This has been my case. I've been listening to the voice for decades. It wasn't until I stopped listening to people outside of me and started listening to my inner self that I finally wrote my first novel. I published The City Center in October 2013 and so far it's been doing pretty well out in the world. No groundbreaking success just yet, but enough to keep me inspired.
I recently found out The City Center won the Gold Medal for Dystopian Fiction in the Readers' Favorite Awards. For an indie author who is still navigating through the wilderness of self-publishing, this accolade is nothing short of amazing. I'm very happy to know my words have been well received––and even liked!
Below is the review:
Reviewed By Anne Boling for Readers’ Favorite
The City Center (The New Agenda Series Book 1) by Simone Pond is a dystopian tale set in the future. A group of elitists have killed off most of the people, leaving two sects; the elitists that reside inside the utopia of Los Angeles City Center and the rebels that live on the Outside. The elitists have devised a way to live for an extended period of time. Ava Rhodes is the citizens' favorite of those competing for the office of Queen of City Center. Unlike the other candidates, Ava has a lot of unanswered questions. When Joseph, an Outsider, is captured, Ava not only assists him in escaping but she also goes with him. She discovers the lies and deceit that have been perpetrated on her people. The Outsiders discover a traitor in their midst.
It is difficult to believe that The City Center is Simone Pond’s first novel for she writes like a seasoned author. The City Center reminds me of Donor 23, The Hunger Games, Logan’s Run and Brave New World, which are all dystopian tales. The characters are well developed. Morray was so well developed that he gave me the creeps just reading about his despicable crimes. My only complaint with this novel is the lead character, Ava Rhodes. I would have liked to see her as a stronger character and not quite so needy. This tale is well written and the plot is interesting. I am looking forward to the next book in this series.
This has been my case. I've been listening to the voice for decades. It wasn't until I stopped listening to people outside of me and started listening to my inner self that I finally wrote my first novel. I published The City Center in October 2013 and so far it's been doing pretty well out in the world. No groundbreaking success just yet, but enough to keep me inspired.
I recently found out The City Center won the Gold Medal for Dystopian Fiction in the Readers' Favorite Awards. For an indie author who is still navigating through the wilderness of self-publishing, this accolade is nothing short of amazing. I'm very happy to know my words have been well received––and even liked!
Below is the review:
Reviewed By Anne Boling for Readers’ Favorite
The City Center (The New Agenda Series Book 1) by Simone Pond is a dystopian tale set in the future. A group of elitists have killed off most of the people, leaving two sects; the elitists that reside inside the utopia of Los Angeles City Center and the rebels that live on the Outside. The elitists have devised a way to live for an extended period of time. Ava Rhodes is the citizens' favorite of those competing for the office of Queen of City Center. Unlike the other candidates, Ava has a lot of unanswered questions. When Joseph, an Outsider, is captured, Ava not only assists him in escaping but she also goes with him. She discovers the lies and deceit that have been perpetrated on her people. The Outsiders discover a traitor in their midst.
It is difficult to believe that The City Center is Simone Pond’s first novel for she writes like a seasoned author. The City Center reminds me of Donor 23, The Hunger Games, Logan’s Run and Brave New World, which are all dystopian tales. The characters are well developed. Morray was so well developed that he gave me the creeps just reading about his despicable crimes. My only complaint with this novel is the lead character, Ava Rhodes. I would have liked to see her as a stronger character and not quite so needy. This tale is well written and the plot is interesting. I am looking forward to the next book in this series.
August 18, 2014
Book marketing breakthrough
I did it! After spending countless hours on kboards (if you don't know about kboards, you're missing out on a wealth of information), I feel like I got lost in a k-hole (if you don't know about k-holes, your parents raised you well) -- BUT -- I finally figured out how to sell tons of books!
Publish more books.
Yeah, that's pretty much it.
I've tried several different approaches to marketing and I've had some success, but the common denominator for the most successful authors is publishing more books. Common sense, right?
Check out the track records of these successful best-selling indie authors:
- H.M. Ward estimated sales 4.2 million -- published over 37 books
- Marie Force estimated sales 2.1 million -- published over 28 books
- Amanda Hocking estimated sales 1.5 million -- published over 17 books
- Hugh Howey estimated sales 1.5 million -- published over 18 books
- J.A. Konrath estimated sales 1.2 million -- published over 50 books (yes, 50 books!)
I don't know about you, but seeing the number of books these writers have published makes me want to jump off a tall building. How'd they do that? I can guarantee they weren't spending countless hours researching how to become a successful best-selling author.
Instead of comparing myself to these writers, I look to them as inspiration. They're the reason I started this journey last summer. I didn't know what to expect. But it's a year later and I'm finishing up my third book. The more I write, the easier it gets. So maybe in a few more years, I'll have 10 books under my belt. Or maybe I'll be lost in a k-hole somewhere. Either way, I'll be happy because I'll be writing.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
Publish more books.
Yeah, that's pretty much it.
I've tried several different approaches to marketing and I've had some success, but the common denominator for the most successful authors is publishing more books. Common sense, right?
Check out the track records of these successful best-selling indie authors:
- H.M. Ward estimated sales 4.2 million -- published over 37 books
- Marie Force estimated sales 2.1 million -- published over 28 books
- Amanda Hocking estimated sales 1.5 million -- published over 17 books
- Hugh Howey estimated sales 1.5 million -- published over 18 books
- J.A. Konrath estimated sales 1.2 million -- published over 50 books (yes, 50 books!)
I don't know about you, but seeing the number of books these writers have published makes me want to jump off a tall building. How'd they do that? I can guarantee they weren't spending countless hours researching how to become a successful best-selling author.
Instead of comparing myself to these writers, I look to them as inspiration. They're the reason I started this journey last summer. I didn't know what to expect. But it's a year later and I'm finishing up my third book. The more I write, the easier it gets. So maybe in a few more years, I'll have 10 books under my belt. Or maybe I'll be lost in a k-hole somewhere. Either way, I'll be happy because I'll be writing.
Keep writing. It saves lives.
August 13, 2014
The unfathomable aftermath of suicide
I'm sitting here at my dining room table, staring at the LA Times, the one with Robin Williams on the front page. I can't bring myself to read the article about the loss of this great man. It's just too depressing.
Suicide is something you can never ever ever take it back. To those left behind in the unfathomable aftermath it's surreal and confusing. To the one who does it, it makes the most sense in the world. The only way out. Freedom from the demons.
No, I can't read the article or any other articles about Robin Williams' suicide because it's too close to home. I've been there too many times. The plotting of how to do it, the begging for courage to do it, the wailing and tortured sobs asking God to take my life so I don't have to, and the utter desolate loneliness. It's gross. All of it. Just horrible.
Addiction and depression go hand in hand. We know this. It's nothing new. It's not rocket science. But this is the way our society deals with inexplicable things: cover it up, look the other way, eat a hamburger, go shopping, pop a pill, get another prescription, drink some wine, smoke some pot -- but whatever you do, don't look at the real problem.
I've suffered from suicidal depression since I was a teenager. I drank and used drugs for over twenty years until I finally got help. And nine years later, I still suffer from suicidal ideations -- only much less frequently because I've made a full-time commitment to my mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health. But even with all of this, I still get those soul-wrenching thoughts. I don't know why. I don't know why death seems like the most rational solution to pain. I can't explain any of it because it makes zero sense.
There was a time when I joked that the Suicide Hotline knew my phone number by heart. Those wonderful humans saved my ass on several occasions. Strangers. Just regular people on the other end of phone who didn't know me from a hole in the wall. They took my calls and listened to me cry incoherently. They gave me suggestions; small practical steps I could take in that moment to calm down and find a dust mote of hope. I'd come to realize whatever insanity I was feeling in that despicable moment would eventually pass, but killing myself would be permanent.
It doesn't matter how much you're loved, or how well you're doing in life, or how much you work out, eat right, go to support groups, or work on yourself, when the overwhelming darkness seeps into the soul it's almost impossible to see your way out. Especially without a light source. These days, I cling to my faith in God. A lot of people don't want to hear that. They want to keep trying to figure it out on their own. I've never been able to figure my way out of depression. I've always had to ask for help and it has always come in one form or another.
I'm praying for Robin's family and the millions of fans he left behind. Most of us are walking around with a pit in our gut and a lingering sadness. It doesn't matter how much we read about it, we'll never understand why -- because it makes zero sense.
There is help out there. In many forms. Here are a few places you can start:
Suicide Hotline: 800-273-8255
http://www.aa.org/
http://www.bringchange2mind.org/
Suicide is something you can never ever ever take it back. To those left behind in the unfathomable aftermath it's surreal and confusing. To the one who does it, it makes the most sense in the world. The only way out. Freedom from the demons.
No, I can't read the article or any other articles about Robin Williams' suicide because it's too close to home. I've been there too many times. The plotting of how to do it, the begging for courage to do it, the wailing and tortured sobs asking God to take my life so I don't have to, and the utter desolate loneliness. It's gross. All of it. Just horrible.
Addiction and depression go hand in hand. We know this. It's nothing new. It's not rocket science. But this is the way our society deals with inexplicable things: cover it up, look the other way, eat a hamburger, go shopping, pop a pill, get another prescription, drink some wine, smoke some pot -- but whatever you do, don't look at the real problem.
I've suffered from suicidal depression since I was a teenager. I drank and used drugs for over twenty years until I finally got help. And nine years later, I still suffer from suicidal ideations -- only much less frequently because I've made a full-time commitment to my mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health. But even with all of this, I still get those soul-wrenching thoughts. I don't know why. I don't know why death seems like the most rational solution to pain. I can't explain any of it because it makes zero sense.
There was a time when I joked that the Suicide Hotline knew my phone number by heart. Those wonderful humans saved my ass on several occasions. Strangers. Just regular people on the other end of phone who didn't know me from a hole in the wall. They took my calls and listened to me cry incoherently. They gave me suggestions; small practical steps I could take in that moment to calm down and find a dust mote of hope. I'd come to realize whatever insanity I was feeling in that despicable moment would eventually pass, but killing myself would be permanent.
It doesn't matter how much you're loved, or how well you're doing in life, or how much you work out, eat right, go to support groups, or work on yourself, when the overwhelming darkness seeps into the soul it's almost impossible to see your way out. Especially without a light source. These days, I cling to my faith in God. A lot of people don't want to hear that. They want to keep trying to figure it out on their own. I've never been able to figure my way out of depression. I've always had to ask for help and it has always come in one form or another.
I'm praying for Robin's family and the millions of fans he left behind. Most of us are walking around with a pit in our gut and a lingering sadness. It doesn't matter how much we read about it, we'll never understand why -- because it makes zero sense.
There is help out there. In many forms. Here are a few places you can start:
Suicide Hotline: 800-273-8255
http://www.aa.org/
http://www.bringchange2mind.org/
July 27, 2014
Freelance monkey for sale
For the past month I've been freelancing in advertising. Years ago I tried to make a career in advertising when I didn't know how to do what I really wanted to do, which is write. Now I do it to pay the bills. I can say this freely and unabashedly without losing a potential gig because the people who hire me already know this. They knew it before I did.
Freelancing has been a wonderful tool as I navigate through this current chapter of life -- the one about becoming a full-time author. Advertising has been the bane of my existence and the blessing. I don't love the industry, and often question the moral and ethical aspects of it, but I've been doing it a long time and do my job pretty well -- and there is always work. This last opportunity came up when I was in the middle of my first draft for the third book. At first I wasn't going to take the gig because I've been struggling with my writing (third person is a challenge for me), but seeing the dollar sign got the wheels spinning. Money does have a sorta magical zing to it, doesn't it?
Here's my mantra with regards to money and cultivating my creative life: 1) The more money I make, the less time I spend in advertising and 2) The less money I spend, the less time I spend in advertising.
The common denomenator?
Pretty obvious, huh?
Spending less time in advertising.
So I took the gig because I wanted the money -- I didn't need the money, which is a blessing in itself (go back to rule #2 if you want to know why I didn't need the money).
The work has been interesting and the people great. I've been chatting with other authors, two who are currently working on their novels, and another who's launching his second this winter. We're everywhere, chilling in the shadows, waiting for our big break so we can quit the day job.
The gig ends in three days and then it's back to full-time writing (some of you may have heard a sigh of jubilation). Since I only had an hour here or an hour there to write, I'm at the point where I'm desperate to get back to it. The job not only provided me with more money to spend less time in advertising, but it reinvigorated my desire to finish this draft. There's something to be said about having the thing you love being removed from your daily routine. I want it back!
And I'm gonna love it and hug it and pet it and squeeze it.
Freelancing has been a wonderful tool as I navigate through this current chapter of life -- the one about becoming a full-time author. Advertising has been the bane of my existence and the blessing. I don't love the industry, and often question the moral and ethical aspects of it, but I've been doing it a long time and do my job pretty well -- and there is always work. This last opportunity came up when I was in the middle of my first draft for the third book. At first I wasn't going to take the gig because I've been struggling with my writing (third person is a challenge for me), but seeing the dollar sign got the wheels spinning. Money does have a sorta magical zing to it, doesn't it?
Here's my mantra with regards to money and cultivating my creative life: 1) The more money I make, the less time I spend in advertising and 2) The less money I spend, the less time I spend in advertising.
The common denomenator?
Pretty obvious, huh?
Spending less time in advertising.
So I took the gig because I wanted the money -- I didn't need the money, which is a blessing in itself (go back to rule #2 if you want to know why I didn't need the money).
The work has been interesting and the people great. I've been chatting with other authors, two who are currently working on their novels, and another who's launching his second this winter. We're everywhere, chilling in the shadows, waiting for our big break so we can quit the day job.
The gig ends in three days and then it's back to full-time writing (some of you may have heard a sigh of jubilation). Since I only had an hour here or an hour there to write, I'm at the point where I'm desperate to get back to it. The job not only provided me with more money to spend less time in advertising, but it reinvigorated my desire to finish this draft. There's something to be said about having the thing you love being removed from your daily routine. I want it back!
And I'm gonna love it and hug it and pet it and squeeze it.
