Fat Bumble Bees

The bumble bees around here are big and fat, my husband and I have noticed. It's like they've taken steroids. You have to get out of their way when they fly because they may give you a concussion. They're large enough to carry off small dogs and children... well, not that big. Around here they nest under ground, so it behooves a gardener to watch where a bumble bee is heading before moving rocks or other things.

My husband has a story of when he was very young, he stole play money from somewhere, and when he went to retrieve it under a rock, he got stung by a bumble. He never did that again--um steal, that is. And, he's never been stung by one again, and always "saves" them if they are trapped inside somewhere.



In the woodland garden, meanwhile, my project is coming along, but the deer seem to love everything I plant. I had dug up some phlox from the ditch, transplanted 4 large plants and found to my dismay that deer do, indeed, love these. One plant was pretty much stripped of leaves--I have reservations as to whether this plant will survive, but the others may, as they've only been munched on. I would have been pissed off in the past, but these days I just shrug, and went and got tomato cages and chicken wire and put these around the plants. I hope to get some deer fence--so called that as it's supposed to deter deer with some scent they don't like. I'd like to see this work, but at the same time wouldn't trust it 100%.

In other news, one morning we noticed some debris coming out of a hole in the catalpa tree, just under where the wood ducks were nesting. Yeah. This was nesting from those ducks. We noticed one broken egg shell. We do have a few raccoons. I didn't want to jump to the obvious conclusion, but one will never know exactly what happened.

I'd become warmer and more humid, have had some rain in past day or so, and more on the way, so work out in my woods is limited. Oh, and the mosquitoes, of course, made their appearance this week as well.

In other news, my first book of series, Ascension, has, as of this morning sold 112 ebook copies for the month. I've never had any one book sell that many copies before. I've had all books sell over 100 in a month, of course, but this is different. In one day I sold 40 copies--hard to believe it didn't go closer to being #1--or at least in the top 100. But not. It was doing well (#90) in different categories like vampires, psychics, etc. But I've seen it better in those too. Must have been a busy selling day, back on Monday, I guess.


Well, I've been off for only two weeks and it feels longer, somehow. I've gotten a lot done around here, inside and out. Yesterday I cleaned the house, and today, not sure what I can do other than work on the book, as there is a threat of rain in area.

I plan on painting the steps which have never been painted--never had time to do it until this year. Also I want to paint the bathroom. Every room needs painting. Even my office needs to have a little light patching with orchid. My husband can't keep up with me. He is amazed at my energy. I'm amazed at my energy. And my ideas won't quit as to what I want to do.

So, this is my update on what's been going on. Sorry I can't share pics because my computer is too old to take any photos from our cell phone and I won't pay for an update. Especially since I'm planning on getting a lap top. I think I might be able to afford one this year.

Outlasting the Storm [of Indies]

Isn't this beautiful? A pine cone in nature is beautiful in its shape and purpose, and I find them hard to resist when I come across them in one of our pine forests around here. I've collected a pail full this fall. I had plans to do something with them, and came across this idea over the Internet. Let me tell you briefly about it, and I'll come to my point soon.

If you've noticed, this pine cone is nearly white! How did it become that way? Well, it didn't happen in nature. Someone bleached it. The process is, shall we say, a bit of a challenge, dedication, and work. And if you don't know what you're doing, it might not come out right. You see, you take a pail of water, add just the right amount of bleach and let the cones soak over night--or something around 12 hours or so--and then you take them out and rinse them thoroughly, and then, you have to let them dry (either in the sun or an oven). But when finished you have a beautiful ornament--if it works!

So, what's this got to do with writing? As you can see there is a process, an amount of time devoted to making it, and a formula. And if this isn't done quite right, you'll come out with mushy pine cones that smell of bleach. If that happens the only thing you can do is--WHAT? GIVE UP?!!! 

No. you go back to the starting point. 

I've used this analogy because it is simple. Today's blog is about NOT giving up, but having a bit of a break. And I wanted to bring up a point, too. Something I've been thinking on, recently, and lo-and behold, someone blogged about it. James Scott Bell's post goes into great detail about how some are saying the profits from ebook sales for Indie authors have dropped. He explores/examines the reasons, and gives a couple of links from the Passive Voice blog, where someone has also expounded upon the reason, and goes into more detail than I will here. But, I think you've seen it too. More people are putting up their works over on Amazon than ever before. Bell describes this ocean of titles as "sprouting like steroid-laced Kudzu". And it really is. Why not? Anyone can do it if they've got a cover, and figure out how to get the formatting down. A ten-year old could do it. But should he?

If you are an author, you must have noticed this wave of new authors out there pimping their books/titles on facebook--you know, those groups for writers where you try and pimp your ebooks--to other authors. I think there must be hundreds of them now. I've talked about this before. The only people who you are putting your titles out to are other authors who also are trying to get sales. You aren't gaining new readers by doing this. Not really. Your readership has to come from regular (non-writing) folks. The only way to do this is gain them one at a time, and if they truly like your work, it will be from word-of-mouth. Not by hitting the share button on your book's page over on Amazon a couple hundred times a day. I've done it, yes, but sparingly. I find that the same people are popping up on those groups I belong to on facebook. I'll see the same one or two people over and over down that list, Is it a wonder I've given up trying to compete with them? It's nuts! I don't have the time to waste on this. And it is a waste of my time when I could be doing other things--such as writing or anything else I want, or need to do throughout the day.

But back to what might be going on with sales on Amazon. Okay, I've thought about this a lot. This is why I'm doing something else right now, and not worrying about whether or not I get the 8th book done in the series, because the 5th, 6th &7th are written. They just need some editing, and I'm basically done. My sales were good, and then they went flat. They might pick up when I put out #5, but I need the photo for the next book cover, and my people (photographers), aren't supplying. So, *shrug*.... I won't get all hyper about this. I'm exploring my other creative venues, and I'm just chilling from writing. I don't know how long I'm going to take a break(this time), but it's going to be a break of more than a few weeks. It might be months, or longer.

Some authors who may quit writing because they are experiencing this drop (or stoppage) in sales, or let's just call it a brick wall--because everyone they know has bought their ebooks. They don't understand why no one else will buy it. They'd have to write another book, and then another book, and yet another book... well, you see where I'm going. Yep, in order to get more sales they'd have to simply keep on writing the same old crap. I think the majority of these new Indies are a one- or two-book author, and can't come up with another book idea that would be as good as the first. So, I'm just going to wait this (storm) out and see what happens. Some of these Indies who are considering quitting really should because they aren't really "writers". They had this "great" idea for a book, thought it would make them a lot of money, maybe their initial sales were good--yeah, they probably have a lot of friends and family who supported them and bought their book, but after that, they're finished. They can't come up with another idea for another story. Or, if they did, maybe somewhere in the middle, or the beginning of that next "great" novel, they can't come up with the rest of it, and sort of lose interest in working on it so hard. Well, here's a news flash: they aren't writers. Yeah. I've weathered 30 years of trying to get published either by trying to interest a publisher, or an agent. I didn't quit then, and I'm unable to simply quit writing, so, that seems to pin it down for me.

Let me give you another quote from Mr. James Scott Bell: "...the successful writers are the ones who can't not write. Who exhibit persistence, discipline, production of words. Who write in the face of serial rejection or dismal sales."  Well, if this describes you, congratulations! If not. Just get off my cloud.

I'm taking a slight hiatus from writing. When I feel the need I will jot a few notes down, if I have an idea for a scene (which is constant, and I have ideas daily), I will write them down. In the early '90's I took a four-year break. I went into crafts. I worked at a craft store and had a booth there, I also had my crafts in two other stores. But although I made money--checks monthly--I found that I was putting the money back into my crafts. This time, I'm going to concentrate on a few things. I'm not going to broaden my horizons to the point I'm looking over the ocean. Even though I can do just about any craft I put my mind to (including the above one, which I'll try next summer), I'm thinking that working on just a few crocheted things for now might be the best way to start out. Branching out will come later. I've a couple of places nearby who still take crafters--one takes rent, but the rent is beyond me right now (mainly because soon the big season of Christmas will be over, and coming up with $30/month might become impossible, depending upon sales). So, I'm going to play it smart.

Do you have what it takes to outlast those who are out there, hawking their books and finding difficulty in finding new readers? Can you last through the low sales/storm of Indies, and keep on writing? If you truly can't not write, then you need to keep going. I encourage you to keep on going.

As for me... uh, well, this sums it up. I think I'll take a cat nap for a while.

Cat's Meow

"I'm smiling because I just found a cute TRUE story about cats and kitties just like me."

"That's TOTALLY awesome!"

"Where? Where?"

"Can we see it too?"

"I would like to see this too! Where do you go to see such a thing?"

"Yes! I've heard it's toe-licking good!"

"This is the cover right here! I've heard you can find it on some place called AMAZON."

"What's it about?"

"Well, its about this lady author... oh, there she is right there..."

"Ooo, she's perrrrfict!"

"And her husband--he's 'The Cat Whisperer'. This is him right there looking out onto a beautiful lake."

"Anyway, its about how a female feral cat came into their yard one day and he fed it table scraps, and she stayed and had her kittens, and they took care of them. But not all of it was good and fun. There are villains, death, and how they survived and took care of each other."

"Wow. I think it sounds great."

"Oh, and that's them right now... shhhhh. They're sleeping."

"That makes me sleepy to watch. I think I'll take my cat nap now."

"Me-OWWW!"

The Cat Whisperer can be found at Amazon for $1.99. A true story about feral cats, covering a whole year of fun, sorrow and their triumphs!

I'm a Tease

Okay, I meant, I'm teasing you with a bit of the fourth novel. Mean, but yeah. The following is from the fourth book of the Sabrina Strong series, Vampire Caprice. Hoping to get this one out by the end of the year.

Enjoy!

~*~

The music became a little more sultry. The low, slow notes of the saxophone vibrated down my spine, emptying into my tail bone and then a heat radiated and settled in my groin. An odd relaxation overwhelmed me, too. The heady mix of spicy vampire pheromones and warm candlelight, intoxicating music was a bit more than I could handle—and yet I wanted more. Tremayne was nothing but extremely talented when it came to seducing his intended. I had been his intended for a long while.

“When a vampire mates he takes his time,” Tremayne said low, his eyes claiming mine.

“Mate?” I said, and the heat between my legs became a delicious throb keeping beat with the swanky music.

That's when the dagger decided to wrestle in it's confines at my side. Startled, I looked down at it.

“Perhaps you should take that off and put it somewhere safe?” he suggested.

“It might be a good idea.” Without hesitating, I stood and undid my belt. I wound the leather up, but I had no idea where to put the thing so that it didn't go after him.

“Here,” he said, hand out to me. I placed it carefully, almost reluctantly in his large hand. He took it, ducked low, and the sound of a drawer sliding open, and then close came. He straightened. “That should keep me safe.” He reached and took my hand again, lacing his fingers through mine, then held it aloft as though he were about to take me out onto the dance floor. He stepped around the bar to join me, and turned the chair I sat in so that I now faced him. His eyes roved my face and then he dropped his eyes to my lap. He made a strange little growl, as his hands went to my thighs and parted them so that he could fill the gap with his narrow hips. The motion, and his nearness sent shock waves through me and my libido spiraled out of control.

“That's better. Where were we?” he asked, his large hands slipping around my back. He laced his fingers there, pulling me closer to him. “Oh, yes. You were asking permission to go out with Chris tomorrow.”

“I wasn't asking you if I could 'go out' with him,” I said, my aggravation making my voice go low. “I only asked if it was alright that I go to town with him. Tomorrow. I don't even know why I'm asking you. I should just do it without your permission. It's not like I'm your damned slave.” Why was he making this such a big deal? Why was he coming on to me? And why did this feel natural—again? I knew it was the pheromones, but it was as though the whole idea of sleeping with him had been more my idea than his—and I knew it wasn't.

He chuckled, head low to come even with mine. “Do you think you're my slave, Sabrina?”

I looked away. What was my problem with him? Was he like my surrogate father? Father figure maybe? Not in this position he wasn't. God, I'm messed up. I let go a defeated sigh.

His fingers found my chin and turned it in order to angle it up to face him. Being this close to Tremayne was not in any girl's best interest if she was trying to keep the blood in her veins, or her clothes on her body. This was as uncomfortable as I'd felt with him—since that night in his secret abode where he got me stripped and in his bed in ten seconds flat. But tonight, this was different. He was being purposefully slow, sly and knew all the moves, where I was inexperienced as far as men and such things.

“Sounds very safe. Very innocent. If you want to go with Chris tomorrow, go ahead.”

“You don't trust me?” I accused. “And by the way, since when do you tell me who I can or can't see?”

“You're forgetting one thing,” he said, sounding trite.

“What's that?”

“Tonight I've got you all to myself.” His hands came up and cupped my face and his lips covered mine. A warmth began at the base of my neck and went south and settled in my groin. I tried to reach for my glove to get it off my right hand so that he couldn't thrall me. I couldn't reach my glove from around his wide shoulders. I moved my hands downward, between us and began to tug at the glove. It was as though it were glued on.

Realizing what I was doing, he grasped both my wrists and placed them at his sides, and then filled the gap between us with his body, preventing me from doing something—I forget what I had been about to do.

“Now, ask me again. What was it you wanted to do tomorrow?” he said, smile broad.

“I-I don't remember,” I said looking up into his handsome face. The soft light in the room threw shadows across the contours of his face, making it look somewhat like a fine piece of artwork. I realized I had not had the opportunity to really take in the details of his high cheekbones, the curve of his lips, almost-straight nose, the arch of his brows.

“I like that answer,” he said. His lips captured mine once more, then his kisses traveled down my neck. Naturally, I arched my neck and my back, his arms holding me to him. I waited for him to sink his teeth into m, super aware of the throb at my womanhood. This was becoming maddening. There was only so much I could take. Teasing me into a whirlwind of desire, his hands went down, grabbed my shirt and it was off before I knew what had happened.

“There,” he said, his eyes crawling over my exposed flesh. “Much better. My turn.”