Need Some PR For Your Book?

Even though I'm light years away from having a book deal or even an agent, I like to think ahead. There's a general consensus in the publishing world that authors need to take on the lion's share of the marketing for their books, so I'm checking out my options early. In addition to following the blogs of literary agents and published authors, I'm researching marketing and PR-based blogs as well. When I do get that prized book deal, I want to hit the ground running before the ink on my contract dries.

The Book Publicity Blog is one of my favorites. It's mainly geared toward book publicists and other publishing professionals, but there are a lot of nice tidbits for aspiring authors as well. Today's post is a prime example of that. Yen put together a fantastic list of freelance book publicists, including each one's website, experience and specialty by genre. Be sure to also read her earlier post about how to hire a freelance book publicist as well.

If you've ever thought about hiring a publicist for your book, you'll want to refer to these posts. If you're even remotely close to securing a book deal or know someone who is, they're must-reads. Take a look-see and let me know what you think. Would you consider hiring a book publicist in the future? Why or why not?

Breaking Up (With Facebook) Is Hard To Do

Disclaimer: The following post is rife with sarcasm and hopefully a good dash of wit. Please be advised. Those without a decent sense of humor need not read any further.

Before I had this fantabulous blog, and long before I began Twittering my life away, I was a Facebook junkie.

I was in undergrad when Facebook first exploded onto the online social scene, a sleeker, more sophisticated (read: "adult"-like) version of MySpace. University students signed up in droves, creating profiles complete with their weekly drinking/club-hopping escapades for all to see. And who doesn't want in on that? So, after months of fighting off the peer pressure from my buddies, I finally jumped on the bandwagon and created my own profile--minus the alcoholic binges. And thus the madness began.

In the early stages of our relationship, Facebook was everything I never knew I always wanted. It allowed me to cyberstalk my friends without actually having to--ya know, speak to them--and they could do the same with me. I could "friend" people I had never and would never meet in real life under the guise of so-called "networking," all without having to worry about someone filing one of those nasty restraining orders. Yay! L0000ve it! And of course, the biggest reward of all, having all the intimate details of my early-20's published on a profile that could be viewed by everyone from my grandmother to potential employers. Fantastic!

Once the honeymoon was over, however, I realized that my beloved Facebook wasn't quite all it appeared to be. It developed ugly web applications that allowed total strangers to know what I was doing at every minute of every day. It made my information easier and easier to spread around, and at the same time, it made my privacy harder and harder to protect. And when I complained about the changes it had made, Facebook responded with chilling indifference. This is the way things are, it replied, so you'd better get used to it.

I was mortified, but I loved Facebook dearly, so I stayed faithful and convinced myself that I could make it change its ways. We fought a lot, but it seemed like we were making progress. We were going to work things out. Or so I thought.

And then, this ridonculousness happened (yes, I did just make that word up).

Ugh. All I can say is, why, Facebook, WHY?! Why do you hurt me so? Why do you insist on pushing me away? We have so much history together, and yet, when I confronted you about your behavior, this is all you had to say.

Was that supposed to make me feel better? Stealing my time wasn't enough, so you had to steal my privacy too, is that it? What's next, selling pictures of my kid to the highest bidder?

I don't think I can take anymore of this, Facebook. This just might have been the last straw. I love you, you're one convenient piece of work, but unless I start seeing some major changes in you very soon, I'll have to move on. I really do deserve better.

When The Unexpected Happens

Whew! What a week. I'm still a bit disoriented, so if this post seems to ramble a bit more than my usual ones, bear with me. My head isn't quite screwed on right just yet.

On Tuesday, my mother called to say that one of my uncles had passed away from brain cancer. Haven't yet figured out how to feel about it. I didn't see him very often, but he was more or less a constant fixture in my extended family life. He came from Arkansas to Texas for my high school graduation. He played with my son the last time our family got together for Thanksgiving, and we saw him again last summer at the family reunion. He wasn't a talkative man, but nevertheless, he was there... And now he isn't.

Mainly, I'm shocked at how quickly it all happened. He was just diagnosed in November, and now he's gone. Bam. Just like that. How very fragile and short this life of ours is.

These are the moments when I'm most grateful for my faith. I'm not ashamed to call myself a Christian, but I don't shout it from the rooftops, either. I also don't knock anyone else for believing differently from me. But I'll tell you one thing: I don't think I could function in times like this if I didn't believe people have a place to go when they die. This life is far too brief; it can't be all there is. That's my thinking anyway.

What frustrated me most this week was the fact that I couldn't seem to write anything. Not. One. Word. I, a writer, one who plays with words for a living, could not pour out the words to say what I feel. I didn't want to grieve; I wanted to write, and I couldn't. Even writing this post is hard. My mind feels tired.

I know what you want to say. You have to grieve. Grieving is healthy. It will help you move on. It will help you cope with what's happened.

Um, 'fraid not. Writing helps me cope. It is how I move on. It's what keeps me sane. Writing and faith. I have the faith part down, but the writing is slow in coming. So I'm waiting for it to come back. Just waiting.

Everyone faces the unexpected, both good and bad. It's part of life. The question is, how do you take your personal tragedies and transfer them into your writing life? How do you turn life's lemons into writing lemonade? I'm still working on that. I'll let you know how it goes.

What about you all? How do you write when life deals you a crappy hand? How do you write through illness? Financial disaster? The loss of a loved one? What keeps you coming back to telling stories?

P.S. Sorry for the depressing post today, folks. I like to uplift people, not bring them down, so hopefully this stuff will be few and far between for me.