Executives Just Don't Understand

I had a bizarre conversation last week. Actually, it wasn't the first time I've had this conversation with this person.

He's been an executive with different firms for the last twenty or so years. With each company, he's been responsible for making and marketing various widgets. It really doesn't matter what type of widgets. But in each case, the widgets were solid, tangible objects.

He has a very difficult time understanding how I, as one person, can produce and market a totally intangible thing that people are willing to pay money for.

The thing he can't quite grasp is that a tangible object or a service is marketed very differently than entertainment.

Why? Because in my humble opinion, it all comes down to a variation of Maslow's hierarchy of needs.

People need entertainment. It's an essential psychological need. My executive is used to producing widgets that were more akin to solving physical needs.

If people are living in an area that is or can become cold, they're going to need a blanket. My executive would market to people who lived in areas where they need blankets. They give him money for a blanket so they don't freeze to death. Right?

I don't deal with physical comfort. My customer is looking for a particular emotional experience. In particular, I provide excitement and adventure where justice is served in the end. Bad guys die or are apprehended for their crimes. My good gals get the guy and the acclaim. This is the value I provide to my readers.

Unfortunately, he doesn't quite get how I can upload a book to an online store and attract customers' attention. I pointed out covers and blurbs, which is a type of marketing that signals what kind of story this is. (I mean, come on! Everyone knows a woman with a sword is most likely to be fantasy, right?) I point out that I've been published in anthologies, which are akin to a sampler platter at a restaurant.

Even though I used Netflix as an examples of how people search out what they like, he still doesn't quite get it. And I finally got out of him what the real problem was--he doesn't understand an imagination. He doesn't understand how to make up shit.

I'm not sure how to explain imagination to anyone short of going Spongebob Squarepants on their ass. Anyone who's not a writer got any tips?

Still Recovering

I slept in today because I wore myself out trying to have a normal routine on Monday and Tuesday. I'm still recovering from the stupid UTI. Now, I understand why UTIs in the elderly present as signs of dementia. I feel like my brain is wrapped in layers of cotton and wool.

All this means my progress on Hero De Facto resembles the 101 at rush hour. I'm getting writing done, but it's crawling along.

I have to admit I really nervous about releasing this trilogy. It's a little new and different for me. But I don't know how much is real anxiety and how much is fuzzy brain.

I guess I'll find out over the next couple of months.

The Spring Break Roadtrip

I've been kind of quiet online because Genius Kid and I did a roadtrip down to honorary Godmother's place in Nashville. Frankly for me, it was an experiment in pain management after the disastrous trip to Tampa last year where I could barely walk by the time we got home.

[Tip: A naproxen (Aleve) and acetaminophen (Tylenol) double-header does wonders! But please check with your doctor before combining any drugs.]

Heck, GK and I made it through the trip without any too much bickering. We both swore we'd behave. We bonded over Netflix.

Why did we spend our time watching Netflix while being in a beautiful, vibrant city?

We arrived late Wednesday afternoon after driving through rain the entire seven hours. While GK slept in on Thursday, I went to the local Panera to write. By Thursday evening, I wasn't feeling well. Chalking it up to travel fatigue, I went to bed after we got home from dinner.

By Friday afternoon, I was running a fever. Luckily, they had a marvelous thing called The Little Clinic nearby. The staff had me registered, tested, and checked in less time than I've spent in other doctors' waiting rooms. I actually had to wait longer for my prescriptions to be filled at the Kroger pharmacy. But once I had my antibiotics, I felt much better.

GK decided he needed the down time anyway. He's been carrying a full load of welding classes in addition to his high school classes.

On Saturday, GM to me to a lovely little Greek place for lunch. OMG! So good! Then we went to their local Barnes & Noble, so she could prove to me they still actually *gasp* sold books!

The B&N still had a music and video section, a large café, and a toy section, but 75% of the store carried actual BOOKS! I bought my first paper books since 2016: a couple of Valdemar anthologies that I'd been meaning to buy that have short stories by my friend Angela Penrose, the last book of Gail Carriger's Finishing School series Manners & Mutiny (I was reading Book 3 Waistcoats & Weaponry on the drive down), and a Batman v Superman edition Wonder Woman doll (it had allegedly sold out shortly before the movie came out, and scalpers were asking outrageous amounts for it). We didn't spot Ricky Skaggs, a country music star who frequents that particular store, but all-in-all a good shopping trip.

We had brunch before hitting the road on Sunday morning. That's when GK informed me he needed a red shirt for a group presentation at school. Yes, on Easter Sunday, my son informs me he needs a particular item of clothing for his first period class--in less than twenty-four hours while we're seven hours from home.

A reminder that he's not quite the adult he usually acts like.

And yes, we did find a store open with a red shirt. No, I did not get on his case that maybe if he wore a color other than black we could have avoided the stress.

But today, it's back to work! With donuts! Because Mom got long johns while in the store with red shirts.

Oscar Nominated Song

The surprise win that had everyone on their feet!

The Russians Are Coming!

There's going to be people that think this is a political post. Kind of like the Russian 'bots that have weird fixation on my post from SIX FUCKING YEARS AGO title The Times They Are A'Changing.

Go read it. Seriously. I'll wait.

Someone did a shitty job of programming the 'bots. Or the guy(s) who programmed the 'bots have an obsession with Bob Dylan song titles.

Under normal circumstances, I'd laugh.

But they're fucking up my stats when I'm trying to make some decisions concerning my online business presence.

At least the Koreans try to flood my comments with questionable links.

Joiining or Not Joining

There's a ton of various writers organizations in existence, but most seemed to be geared toward either beginners or big sellers. I'm in the weird position of being somewhere in the middle.

Then there's finding a group that is geared toward the same business interests as mine. But what exactly is my business interest?

Fiction or non-fiction? I've done both.

Trad or indie? I've done both.

Novels or short stories? I've done both.

But most organizations define their interests rather narrowly.

Romance Writers of America is only for people who write romance. Recently, they've dropped the hammer on people who aren't pursuing romance writing as a profession. I can honestly say I've pursued the genre professional, but I left in 2012 over the crap they were giving both erotic romance authors as well as indies. I've heard they've backed off on both stances, but I have to make nearly ten times as much as an indie than as a trad author to qualify as a professional. Needless to say, I lean toward screaming, "UTTER BULLSHIT!"

[NOTE: I will say if you're a beginning writer, as in you haven't sold or published a damn thing yet, RWA membership is great for their craft classes.]

The Authors Guild only focuses on writers in trad publishing. No, thank you. I like doing my own thing too much. Not to mention, a good chunk of the membership wants to return the publishing industry back to the 19th century. You know, when publishing was a gentleman's game. *eyeroll*

One of my original goals was to qualify for membership to Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. As the name states, you have to be writing science fiction and/or fantasy. I qualified for membership a couple of years ago, but they have similar rules as RWA, which still pisses me off. Add in the political drama within the organization over the last few years, and I'm perfectly happy sitting in my apartment all by myself.

Novelists, Inc., terms for membership eligibility are a little fairer toward indies than either RWA or SFWA. Several people have suggested I join, but...okay, I have a hang-up. For a professional writers organization, they have an ungodly number of typos on their website.

There's several formal groups and organizations now that are geared toward indies, but I have yet to find one that doesn't have the same elitism or political problems. Maybe it's a human problem. Or as several people have told me, I expect too much.

But in all the cases, the annual dues are roughly in the $100 range. There's so much I can do with $100. That's the e-book and print book covers for a new novel. That's formatting for a few short stories or nearly a full-sized novel. That's shipping ten proof copies of trade paperbacks.

And that's part of running a business--figuring out what's the best use of resources. And right now, joining a club for the sake of joining a club is not the best use of my time or money.

As always, your mileage may vary.

Rushing Toward the Holidays

Ostera has officially passed, and we're rushing toward Easter/Passover. Genius Kid has Spring Break, and we have a buttload of plans.

The print proof of Sacrificed is on its way. Hero De Facto is almost done, and I was hoping to finish it this weekend.

Instead, I woke up to Darling Husband worshipping the porcelain god and running a fever Sunday morning. Of course, he'd made an appointment with our realtor to look at another house.

So I went by my lonesome. It was a mirror of the house we'd made an offer on at the beginning of the year, but it was medium-sized version of the house plan with really dark walls. I can handle one charcoal accent wall, but the sitting room was light gray. The living room was a medium gray with a charcoal stripe. And one of the bedrooms was such a dark teal that it felt like a tomb.

GK and I are crossing our fingers we won't pick up DH's germs before we leave for Nashville on Wednesday.

To top off everything, the new people downstairs are smokers. Actually, I think it's just the wife. It doesn't start until he leaves for work and stops when he gets home from work. Or one of them is smoking really late at night. So my eyes are watering, my sinuses are stuffy, and if we want a house, I can't waste the money on another air purifier that breaks down two months after we buy it.

And if DH still isn't feeling good, we won't risk going to see Pacific Rim: Uprising.

I'm so ready for a break.

Oscar Nominated Songs

You can't hear this without smiling!

Why I've Been Quiet

The goal for 2018 is to release eight books in eight months. So far, I've been two for two.

But this week, the paperback proof for A Modicum of Truth arrived, my formatter sent me the PDF for Sacrificed, and I'm trying to finish the first draft of Hero De Facto. It's culminated in a very busy work week.

To top off my busy schedule, Genius Kid officially started Spring Break after his Physics class this afternoon. He and I are road-tripping to his godmother's place next week.

It'll be an interesting excursion simply because we're at that weird state between a parent and child where things aren't always sunshine and roses. In other words, he hates me, and I want to kill him. If we can survive this trip, maybe there's hope for us switching to an adult-adult relationship.

In the meantime, having another driver means I can spend some of my trip working on first two books of the 888-555-HERO without Darling Husband asking what's for dinner...

Too Much Success and Not Enough Time

A Modicum of Truth, the second novel in the Justice series, was released on February 12th. That's only 37 days ago. It was over 100,000 words, not including the glossary and the sample chapter from the third book.

A Matter of Death (Justice #3) will be most likely be another 100,000 words.

And I've already started getting e-mails asking when it'll be out.

Now, I could get pissy and growl, "I'm not your bitch," a la Neil Gaiman's blog post back in 2009, when a reader tried to get Neil to gang up on fellow author George R.R. Martin over the incomplete Songs of Ice and Fire series. Which was first published in 1996 and is still not done.

But that's not going to make my situation any better.

Because there are those readers who've been patiently waiting for the end of the Bloodlines series to come out since Blood Magick was published in April of 2011. Or the readers who are wondering what the hell happened to the 888-555-HERO series that was announced in January of 2015.

Then there's simply life.

I'm a middle-aged woman with a disease that is slowly, but surely, killing me. A fact I was forced to acknowledge recently. It's a disease that's been eating away at me for nineteen years already. Quite frankly, if I take care of myself, I may be able to eke out another thirty to forty years.

Maybe.

If I'm lucky.

I'm not whining. It's simply a factor of my existence. And I have to keep my stress level under control because that only aggravates my condition.

I have to balance everything--home demands, family demands, work demands along with a little downtime so my brain doesn't explode.

It means a steady pace of 1-2K words a day, which is pretty frickin' slow compared to some writers, but it's manageable with my endurance and pain level. It means taking the time to eat right instead of munching on cheese and crackers at my desk and not paying attention to the quantity. It means making a point of walking every day. It means taking a little time every day to read or watch TV or talk with a friend.

I know readers want me to be the hare, pumping out books as fast as I can, but I'm not. I am the tortoise, and I have that finish line in sight.