I signed myself out of the program. Yes, it works well, briefly, if you participate in the promotional segment. That is, if you give it away. Got quite a boost from the free downloads, went to the top ten lists for my category in the US and the UK, and had a small upswing in sales after the promotion--when the book still appeared on the top one hundred lists. Then...nothing. As far as the Amazon prime "lending" portion of the KDP offer--I've had a grand total of one download.
In short, KDP is good for Amazon as it keeps ebooks exclusive to that site. But in the long run, it does nothing for the author. My term with KDP ends January 31. I'm adding my ebook again to B&N Nook books and leaving it on Amazon as is, sans KDP.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
I saw many wondrous things on my holiday vacation.
I saw a heron standing poised on one leg in Morro Bay estuary. He slowly lowered one leg, dipped his head, and then pulled his leg up again to assume the same pose. I could view the estuary outside the big picture window where we were seated for Christmas Day brunch in the Morro Bay Inn restaurant. The heron I saw looked exactly like the heron standing poised on one leg that was captured in a framed photograph hanging beside our table. Exactly the same spot, exactly the same lighting, exactly the same sky, exactly the same calm water. Was it the same bird? Did they pay him to stand there?
Seated at the table next to us was an elderly gentleman. He sat silently with one glass of white wine in front of him and read a paperback spy novel. He never got up to fill a plate with food. No one joined him. I thought about speaking to him, but didn't, and I feel a bit guilty about that now, but the surest signal that you don't want to talk is to bury your face in a book. I hope he was just waiting. I hope he had someone, somewhere. If not, I'm a little sad for him. Merry Christmas, sir. That night, when the brunch had worn off and we needed a bite to eat for dinner, we drove through the dark streets of Morro Bay. We found one restaurant open. A Mexican restaurant where I had delicious Albondigas soup that I haven't been able to find available since I left San Antonio six years ago. Another elderly gentleman sat by himself at the next table, but he was not as disengaged as our brunch companion. The restaurant owners were having a birthday celebration for one of their family and the patrons joined in a round of Happy Birthday To You. The gentleman chuckled and said to me that December 25 must be a terrible day to have been born--you miss out on all the extra presents.
On our drive home, I saw three rainbows. The first rainbow stretched over a green valley that came to a perfect V on the horizon. Settled precisely in the V was Morro rock. The rolling hills were filled with large oaks that were covered in long strands of light green moss. The moss would be the death of those trees eventually, but for now they wore beautiful green gowns with shimmering fringe like Twenties era speakeasy girls. The second rainbow spanned the entire sky over the Paso Robles vineyards--mile after mile of dormant plants and stone estates. On hills around the vineyards, black Angus cattle stood in the new grass that had sprouted from the recent rains. The rain had washed the cattle clean and their hides looked like soft black velvet. We took a turn off the highway and set out for the Mission San Antonio de Padua--the "Mission of the Oaks." The third rainbow ended just over the mission buildings at the end of our trail.
At the mission, I saw a dark seventeenth century chapel. Centuries old paintings lined the stucco walls. Three pine trees had been placed around the alter. Their Christmas decorations had already been removed but I could see small bits of silver tinsel left behind on their branches. The baby Jesus still rested in his crib in front of the alter. Life sized, carved and painted wood. A few candles flickered in red glass holders at the rear of the chapel. Someone had stopped to pray and remember. I could feel the spirits of the Friars still watching. Outside in the rose garden, I saw a sundial that told me the time. Almost noon by the shadow's mark. The dial, which had been keeping time for three hundred years, was a square marble slab with smaller squares carved into its face that reminded the friars what activity to perform at what time of day. No one alive now would attend to its message, but if they had been there, they should have been finishing up their midday meal. The mission bell was due to ring. Time for prayer and contemplation. Then work tilling the fields and gardens.
As we left the mission grounds, I saw a bobcat crouched by the side of the road, sleek, wary. It watched us roll past slowly, but didn't run back into the woods. A very special sighting--these cats never appear during the day and certainly don't stand to gaze at passing cars. I've seen one other bobcat in my life. A quick glimpse as one darted through the trees in the Texas hill country at dusk.
We made it home safely. All in all, a good Christmas.
Seated at the table next to us was an elderly gentleman. He sat silently with one glass of white wine in front of him and read a paperback spy novel. He never got up to fill a plate with food. No one joined him. I thought about speaking to him, but didn't, and I feel a bit guilty about that now, but the surest signal that you don't want to talk is to bury your face in a book. I hope he was just waiting. I hope he had someone, somewhere. If not, I'm a little sad for him. Merry Christmas, sir. That night, when the brunch had worn off and we needed a bite to eat for dinner, we drove through the dark streets of Morro Bay. We found one restaurant open. A Mexican restaurant where I had delicious Albondigas soup that I haven't been able to find available since I left San Antonio six years ago. Another elderly gentleman sat by himself at the next table, but he was not as disengaged as our brunch companion. The restaurant owners were having a birthday celebration for one of their family and the patrons joined in a round of Happy Birthday To You. The gentleman chuckled and said to me that December 25 must be a terrible day to have been born--you miss out on all the extra presents.
On our drive home, I saw three rainbows. The first rainbow stretched over a green valley that came to a perfect V on the horizon. Settled precisely in the V was Morro rock. The rolling hills were filled with large oaks that were covered in long strands of light green moss. The moss would be the death of those trees eventually, but for now they wore beautiful green gowns with shimmering fringe like Twenties era speakeasy girls. The second rainbow spanned the entire sky over the Paso Robles vineyards--mile after mile of dormant plants and stone estates. On hills around the vineyards, black Angus cattle stood in the new grass that had sprouted from the recent rains. The rain had washed the cattle clean and their hides looked like soft black velvet. We took a turn off the highway and set out for the Mission San Antonio de Padua--the "Mission of the Oaks." The third rainbow ended just over the mission buildings at the end of our trail.
At the mission, I saw a dark seventeenth century chapel. Centuries old paintings lined the stucco walls. Three pine trees had been placed around the alter. Their Christmas decorations had already been removed but I could see small bits of silver tinsel left behind on their branches. The baby Jesus still rested in his crib in front of the alter. Life sized, carved and painted wood. A few candles flickered in red glass holders at the rear of the chapel. Someone had stopped to pray and remember. I could feel the spirits of the Friars still watching. Outside in the rose garden, I saw a sundial that told me the time. Almost noon by the shadow's mark. The dial, which had been keeping time for three hundred years, was a square marble slab with smaller squares carved into its face that reminded the friars what activity to perform at what time of day. No one alive now would attend to its message, but if they had been there, they should have been finishing up their midday meal. The mission bell was due to ring. Time for prayer and contemplation. Then work tilling the fields and gardens.
As we left the mission grounds, I saw a bobcat crouched by the side of the road, sleek, wary. It watched us roll past slowly, but didn't run back into the woods. A very special sighting--these cats never appear during the day and certainly don't stand to gaze at passing cars. I've seen one other bobcat in my life. A quick glimpse as one darted through the trees in the Texas hill country at dusk.
We made it home safely. All in all, a good Christmas.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Best first lines
I guess I must be a sucker for a good first line...5 of my favorites are among these first 15 listed. The first line I thought of when I saw the link was..."Call me Ishmael." Ha!
Courtesy of American Book Review. For the complete list of the top 100 lines, click here:
100 Best First Lines from Novels
1. Call me Ishmael. —Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (1851)
2. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. —Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice(1813)
3. A screaming comes across the sky. —Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow(1973)
4. Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. —Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967; trans. Gregory Rabassa)
5. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. —Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (1955)
6. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. —Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (1877; trans. Constance Garnett)
7. riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. —James Joyce, Finnegans Wake (1939)
8. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. —George Orwell, 1984 (1949)
9. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. —Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (1859)
10. I am an invisible man. —Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (1952)
11. The Miss Lonelyhearts of the New York Post-Dispatch (Are you in trouble?—Do-you-need-advice?—Write-to-Miss-Lonelyhearts-and-she-will-help-you) sat at his desk and stared at a piece of white cardboard. —Nathanael West, Miss Lonelyhearts (1933)
12. You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. —Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885)
13. Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested. —Franz Kafka, The Trial (1925; trans. Breon Mitchell)
14. You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. —Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler (1979; trans. William Weaver)
15. The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. —Samuel Beckett,Murphy (1938)
Courtesy of American Book Review. For the complete list of the top 100 lines, click here:
100 Best First Lines from Novels
1. Call me Ishmael. —Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (1851)
2. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. —Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice(1813)
3. A screaming comes across the sky. —Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow(1973)
4. Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. —Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967; trans. Gregory Rabassa)
5. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. —Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (1955)
6. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. —Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (1877; trans. Constance Garnett)
7. riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. —James Joyce, Finnegans Wake (1939)
8. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. —George Orwell, 1984 (1949)
9. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. —Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (1859)
10. I am an invisible man. —Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (1952)
11. The Miss Lonelyhearts of the New York Post-Dispatch (Are you in trouble?—Do-you-need-advice?—Write-to-Miss-Lonelyhearts-and-she-will-help-you) sat at his desk and stared at a piece of white cardboard. —Nathanael West, Miss Lonelyhearts (1933)
12. You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. —Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885)
13. Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested. —Franz Kafka, The Trial (1925; trans. Breon Mitchell)
14. You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. —Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler (1979; trans. William Weaver)
15. The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. —Samuel Beckett,Murphy (1938)
Monday, March 19, 2012
My next giveaway through Amazon's KDP Select program begins March 23 and ends March 25. Download The Case Files of Thomas Carney for free. If you have Amazon Prime, you can borrow the book any time for free...you don't have to wait until March 23!
Click here for my Amazon listing.
Click here for my Amazon UK listing.
Click here for my Amazon listing.
Click here for my Amazon UK listing.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Results from Amazon's KDP Select program...it works.
So...I had my doiubts, but no more. KDP Select delivers as promised. Thanks to all of you who checked out my book over the President's Day holiday. It reached the Top 10 in downloads for the Fiction-Ghosts and for the Fiction-Occult & Supernatural categories in both the US and the UK.
My next giveaway through Amazon's KDP Select begins March 23 and ends March 25. Download The Case Files of Thomas Carney for free. If you have Amazon Prime, you can borrow the book any time for free...you don't have to wait until March 23!
Here's the link for my book in the Amazon Kindle Store
For readers in the UK, go to Amazon UK Kindle Store
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Red Adept Review on The Case Files of Thomas Carney
Thank you to SingleEyePhotos for a very fair and well-considered review of my book.
To read the review in its entirety, click here: Red Adept Reviews
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
KDP Select
As of today, the eBook format for The Case Files of Thomas Carney is available exclusively through Amazon via their new KDP select program. I've heard good things--so I signed on. We'll see in 90 days.
Through KDP select, I'm offering a promotion. Over the President's Day holiday--on Sunday, February 19 and Monday, February 20--you can download the eBook for free. That's $0.00. Give it a try.
Through KDP select, I'm offering a promotion. Over the President's Day holiday--on Sunday, February 19 and Monday, February 20--you can download the eBook for free. That's $0.00. Give it a try.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
How to Name Your First Novel
Reprinted from HOW TO NAME YOUR FIRST NOVEL by Linda Holmes, via npr.org
If Your First Novel Will Be A Busted Romance:
[ANY OF THE SEVEN DWARFS]: A Love Story
If Your First Novel Will Be A Harrowing Historical Account:
The [A COLOR] [REPEAT THAT COLOR] [A FLOWER]s Of [A CITY IN EUROPE]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Withering Teenage Quasi-Memoir:
How I Flunked [YOUR WORST ACADEMIC SUBJECT] But Passed [THE FIRST MUSICIAN YOU SAW IN CONCERT]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Workplace Satire:
At Least They Left Us The [A PIECE OF OFFICE MACHINERY]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Quirky Woman's Story From Someone Else's Point Of View:
[A CHILD-CARE-RELATED TRANSITIVE VERB]ing [THE NAME OF YOUR PATERNAL GRANDMOTHER]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Quirky Man's Story From His Own Point Of View:
[THE FIRST NAME OF YOUR MATERNAL GRANDFATHER]Reads The Works Of [CLASSIC AUTHOR]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Miserable Story Of One Person's Suffering:
My [A FRAGILE OBJECT] Is [A WORD THAT MEANS "BROKEN"]
If Your First Novel Will Be Self-Consciously Ironic And Self-Congratulatory:
[A COMIC-BOOK SOUND EFFECT WORD] Goes [A NEIGHBORHOOD IN BROOKLYN]
If Your First Novel Takes Place In Gorgeous Locations:
The [ANY COUNTRY] [ANY COMMON SOCIAL EVENT]Chronicles
If Your First Novel Is Intended To Launch A Giant Moneymaking Franchise:
Everything Starts With ["1" OR "A"]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Harrowing Historical Account:
The [A COLOR] [REPEAT THAT COLOR] [A FLOWER]s Of [A CITY IN EUROPE]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Withering Teenage Quasi-Memoir:
How I Flunked [YOUR WORST ACADEMIC SUBJECT] But Passed [THE FIRST MUSICIAN YOU SAW IN CONCERT]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Workplace Satire:
At Least They Left Us The [A PIECE OF OFFICE MACHINERY]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Quirky Woman's Story From Someone Else's Point Of View:
[A CHILD-CARE-RELATED TRANSITIVE VERB]ing [THE NAME OF YOUR PATERNAL GRANDMOTHER]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Quirky Man's Story From His Own Point Of View:
[THE FIRST NAME OF YOUR MATERNAL GRANDFATHER]Reads The Works Of [CLASSIC AUTHOR]
If Your First Novel Will Be A Miserable Story Of One Person's Suffering:
My [A FRAGILE OBJECT] Is [A WORD THAT MEANS "BROKEN"]
If Your First Novel Will Be Self-Consciously Ironic And Self-Congratulatory:
[A COMIC-BOOK SOUND EFFECT WORD] Goes [A NEIGHBORHOOD IN BROOKLYN]
If Your First Novel Takes Place In Gorgeous Locations:
The [ANY COUNTRY] [ANY COMMON SOCIAL EVENT]Chronicles
If Your First Novel Is Intended To Launch A Giant Moneymaking Franchise:
Everything Starts With ["1" OR "A"]
Thursday, November 3, 2011
I'm a five star slacker
Sometimes you feel like a writer, sometimes you don't.
I'd like to say I've been so busy I haven't had the time to sit down and concentrate on the two novels I have in the works, but that's just not true. I managed to finish an astounding number of levels on Angry Birds. Warning--if you see the Angry Birds app on any device you own, never...ever...touch it. It's a sly demon sent by the Lords of Time to suck your life away. It's the game equivalent of crack.
When I started Case Files I posted a spinning banner on my screen saver that read: Three Pages Per Day. That was my goal and it came with conditions. If I didn't complete my three pages, if I wrote only one for example, then I owed myself two pages the next day. I didn't always reach my goal, but the phrase kept me focused. And it kept me feeling guilty for wasting time. Many people have written many pages outlining their secrets for overcoming writer's block. For me, guilt is a great motivator.
Time to turn that screen saver back on.
I'd like to say I've been so busy I haven't had the time to sit down and concentrate on the two novels I have in the works, but that's just not true. I managed to finish an astounding number of levels on Angry Birds. Warning--if you see the Angry Birds app on any device you own, never...ever...touch it. It's a sly demon sent by the Lords of Time to suck your life away. It's the game equivalent of crack.
When I started Case Files I posted a spinning banner on my screen saver that read: Three Pages Per Day. That was my goal and it came with conditions. If I didn't complete my three pages, if I wrote only one for example, then I owed myself two pages the next day. I didn't always reach my goal, but the phrase kept me focused. And it kept me feeling guilty for wasting time. Many people have written many pages outlining their secrets for overcoming writer's block. For me, guilt is a great motivator.
Time to turn that screen saver back on.
Five Star Review
This just in. Thank you, Susan R from Reader's Favorite.
"Listen. Would you like to know a secret? Did you know everyone heads off into the Afterlife once they die, regardless of whether they're good or bad? It's true. Just read "The Case Files of Thomas Carney".
Tom Carney, a nondescript school-teacher before he died, awakes to find himself a supernatural investigator in Afterlife Investigations.
Ms Wolfe deserves an award for sheer imagination in this quirky novel. Don't expect it to be feel-good with angels on clouds and stardust. Tom now inhabits a place midway between life and his final destination, a place swirled in mist and utter, mind-bending, bureaucracy. His companions are gelled into their own eras. His secretary, for example, still uses a traditional typewriter and receives strict orders for his investigation missions from the Home Office.
Following Tom's somewhat bungling attempts to find his feet in his new job was hilarious and I couldn't put the book down as he's drawn into the case of releasing a ghost child from the clutches of an evil being that belongs neither on earth nor in the after-life.
The cast of characters are unique and fully-rounded - those in the bar next to Tom's agency are as varied and enjoyable as those in the TV series "Cheers". The pacing gallops along and I enjoyed this supernatural romp that will keep me thinking about it for a long time to come. With any luck Ms Wolfe will be considering a sequel because I surely haven't had enough of Tom Carney."
"Listen. Would you like to know a secret? Did you know everyone heads off into the Afterlife once they die, regardless of whether they're good or bad? It's true. Just read "The Case Files of Thomas Carney".Tom Carney, a nondescript school-teacher before he died, awakes to find himself a supernatural investigator in Afterlife Investigations.
Ms Wolfe deserves an award for sheer imagination in this quirky novel. Don't expect it to be feel-good with angels on clouds and stardust. Tom now inhabits a place midway between life and his final destination, a place swirled in mist and utter, mind-bending, bureaucracy. His companions are gelled into their own eras. His secretary, for example, still uses a traditional typewriter and receives strict orders for his investigation missions from the Home Office.
Following Tom's somewhat bungling attempts to find his feet in his new job was hilarious and I couldn't put the book down as he's drawn into the case of releasing a ghost child from the clutches of an evil being that belongs neither on earth nor in the after-life.
The cast of characters are unique and fully-rounded - those in the bar next to Tom's agency are as varied and enjoyable as those in the TV series "Cheers". The pacing gallops along and I enjoyed this supernatural romp that will keep me thinking about it for a long time to come. With any luck Ms Wolfe will be considering a sequel because I surely haven't had enough of Tom Carney."
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