Where do you meet authors? Where do you hear about their books? How do you discover your next read? And what actually makes you BUY a book versus just waiting around for that freebie? What is too high a cost for you? Do you even need to buy books anymore?
 
You’re reading this, because, somehow, we’ve connected. What drew you to me? And how did you find me? Was it my erotic romances? My new adult fiction? Or my poetry? Or did you find me some other way and still not yet bought or read a book of mine?
 
In a world that seems to create more and more technology that is supposed to make our lives easier, it becomes more and more difficult for an indie author to decide where to spend their time. Building a following is work. It’s another full-time job to not only our full-time day jobs but also our full-time writing jobs!

When I first started, I was only on Twitter. I liked the quick banter. The immediate following. The ease with which to discover people with similar interests. And the people I met on Twitter are now some of my oldest friends in the Indie community to this date. And by oldest, I mean longest. 😊 Facebook had turned me off long before, when students of mine started to “friend request” me, and I didn’t have the heart to not accept. I saw my family in disputes over this cousin not liking this cousin’s post, and I just decided: This is a silly hassle. I don’t need social media to see my friends and family. Instagram was a novelty to me. And well, TikTok wasn’t even a thing!
 
But as time went on, I joined Facebook as RB, and well, I found myself really enjoying the medium of it. I liked that I could write as much as I wanted and wasn’t restricted to “character” constraints. I liked the groups. I liked the layout and the format. But Facebook has changed A LOT in just the few years I’ve been on it. It’s over saturated. They want you to pay for your posts or they don’t pop them into feeds. And groups seem to be a lot of the same. Silly memes. Mindless games. And places for people to be, well, social and flirty, often in the most inane and mundane ways.
 
But is Facebook  a place where people talk about books anymore? Or share their love of an author’s work? I find, more and more, people are looking to be entertained in ways that really have nothing to do with reading. And TikTok? Well, the jury is out on even how long it will last, given all the implications of privacy and the ownership in China. It’s also the biggest rabbit hole of dumb I’ve seen in a very long time. The more outrageous, the more it’s watched. It’s a strange thing, this societal shift of entertainment over truth or quality or depth. TikTok mentality is basically humankind mentality these days. But is an author making silly faces and putting on silly costumes really what it takes to sell books these days? Or does even that just lead to a laugh and an empty promise? And now Facebook is scrambling to keep up, begging people to post more reels, to compete with what exactly? More silly entertainment? Have I used the word silly yet? 😉
 
I don’t know these answers. I just know who I am and what I stand for. I know that I want to share my work with people, but I also don’t want to just give it all away to everyone for free, all the time. Actually publishing a book takes such work and energy, and every time I offer something FREE, I become a “best seller” (note the irony of the word seller there). I have often made it as an Amazon Best Seller with paid books too (who hasn’t really), but it’s usually only in the first month or two of a release or if I run a paid ad that even being an Amazon Best Seller doesn’t do more than help me break a little more than even.
 
I guess the answer, if I were to offer one, is to simply do what brings us joy, share to social media places we enjoy being on. But then again, do we ever grow if we only stay in our comfort zones? If we don’t learn new things? Is selling books really just learning new tricks? If so, this young dog may already be too old for a new bag! 😊
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​It’s the biggest question readers are asked: Ebooks or print? Which do you prefer? I'm a writer, yes, but I'm also a reader. And my answer to this question may surprise you. 

You often get those traditionalists who talk about the smell of books, the tactile experience, the bindings and spine, the art, and sometimes the leather. We even romanticize the dust, those particles that look like glitter floating in one ray of sunlight, instead of the sneezes, a lazy day in bed, with a book in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other. If not tea, maybe a pen to mark up the margins with hearts and annotations, smiley faces and exclamation points. That one passage we underline several times and earmark, so we can come back to it like that kiss we’ll never forget.

But I’m here to confess. I recently cleaned out all my bookshelves and gave them away to libraries, schools, and the swap shack in town. Oh! What a Philistine! I mustn’t be a “real” reader. I kept my favorites. All my Shakespeare. Fahrenheit 451 and 1984 and Brave New World. The Catcher in the Rye and To Kill A Mockingbird. All the poetry books I have from Dickinson to Cummings to Plath to Poe (and yes Ted too—sorry) and so many more. I even kept the 50 Shades trilogy and Twilight. Stephen King classics. Lolita. Hemingway. But it’s one bookcase now, vs six.

I love going to bookstores and libraries, leafing through bookshelves and sale racks, remembering where I was when I read, Are You There, God, It’s Me, Margaret and Anais Nin and The Story of O, a cappuccino in one hand, a book in the other. But when I want to read—on a beach, by my pool, in the quiet moments at night when I’m alone with only the moon and stars as my witness--my kindle is my companion, and I’m not ashamed to say it. I love late-night reads, with the font as big as I want it and the lights off.  I love marking up the pages with my fingers and having a record of where I finished. I love bouncing from thrillers to romances to poetry to classics to smut, all at the swipe of my finger, depending on my mood. And I love that I can rest it on my lap and not lose my page. For me, ebooks let me read more. I don’t have to remember to carry eight books or worry if, while poolside, I’ll ruin the pages. Put simply, I love to read. And ebooks give me words. What else do I need? I want to taste and smell the words. Not the book. I want to transport myself to places in my mind. Meet new people without having to go anywhere. And I want to do them often and at the same time sometimes.

I’ve kept the paper books that mattered to me, that show me where I was or what I was thinking when I lived with them. I like to reread them and see where I was then and where I’ve come now. Virginia Woolf when I was 16 is not the same as she is in my thirties. Kate Chopin makes sense to me now.

I will never stop collecting books, I just do so differently. But I still collect them. I collect moments that are my moments, housed in a mind that will forever love to read. 

There’s been a bit of…hmmmm…I’m not really sure what to call it. Nastiness? Drama? Controversy? Whatever you call it, I’m not being a part of it. Perhaps you’re wondering what I’m talking about? And I took a long time today deciding whether or not I should write about it. Am I just adding fire to the flames by writing my whole response this way? I don’t think so. I have every right to voice my opinion. And I believe there needs to be more support in the indie community rather than in-fighting. I'm tired of it.

Let me say this: If you’re an author/writer/poet, and you think putting down other authors publicly is fun, or you think you’re one hundred times better than other writers, or you can’t have a conversation or healthy debate about writing but turn to name-calling or worse, have others do it for you, I’m out. I’m not here to do that. I’m here to raise and lift others, write, share my work, and celebrate the written word with readers and fellow authors. If I don’t like another author’s writing, that’s that. I don’t read it. Or support it much or at all. (If it is abuse or something nefarious, that is different. I’m not talking about that.)

And if you enjoy being involved with authors who do that as a reader or as their fan club, and if I see you being a part of that or a leader of it, jumping on a bandwagon to verbally assault other authors, I’m out of there too.

No one likes dishonesty or being fed a crockpot of lies. No one. But in this indie community, if readers can’t figure that out for themselves, it’s not my job to take care of it. That shit takes care of itself. Watching authors act like petulant and jealous competitors is not my jam. I like to stick with those who support others vying for a chance. I like the underdogs. I love the indie community and the authors I’ve met along the way with the same mentality. I have too much going on in my flesh and blood life to worry about people typing anonymously behind a screen, suddenly so brave, who believe it’s okay to attack and ridicule others. If we can’t have a conversation like adults, if you’re here to make waves to sell books, good luck drowning. I won’t be there to lend a preserver. I’ll be long gone by then.
 
Peace.
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​Paper Cuts was months in the making, where eight poets came together, shared their work, critiqued each other, applauded each other, and worked as a team of artists to become better poets. At times, it was difficult, and sometimes the paper cuts took longer to heal, but they did, and so, too, did we.

Our words, like skin, became more beautiful, textured, and interesting over time. Where layers grew, so did our integrity and character. It took some mistakes, some Band-aids, and some trial and error; but mostly, it took vulnerability. Without that, there is no growth for a poet. And as we exposed our wounds, slowly allowing ourselves to become more and more uncomfortable, we realized our deepest poetry was brimming just below our surfaces.

We are now ready to share our work with you, hoping our poetry cuts into your heart, your feelings, your emotions, and that you’ll heal, somehow, along with us. 

To read moe about our journey and our special thanks, get your copy of PAPER CUTS: We bleed but do not die.

​We live in an age that contradicts itself. Do you notice that? Recycle but not plastic bags. Open your mind but not when it disagrees with my politics. Don't pirate my work but, here, it's all free. And buy books, but save trees. It's a polarizing time to live, and it's also a confusing time. And what is happening to the poet in all of this? Is there any such thing anymore? Has the internet killed the poet? Does anyone BUY poetry? Or are they just cruising the internet, reading what snippets come their way?

This discussion has been on my mind lately. and I asked if people still bought poetry books. Do you? Or are poetry books a bit of a thing of the past, that the internet is littered with poetry if you want it, so why buy a damn thing?

I buy books. Oh do I buy books. Not like the ones I write much, but nonetheless, I'm constantly reading before I fall asleep at night. Many of my newer books are on my kindle now, yes, because of the environment, but also for its convenience. I used to be against the kindle, until, of course, I actually owned one and could take and read as many books as I wanted at once. But poetry books are the one thing, besides my own, I do not have on my kindle. I own Dickinson and Shakespeare and Cummings and Plath and Whitman and...and...and...all in paperback or hardcover. I read them over and over. Paper books, somehow, are just perfect to plop down in a chair with by the fire to read. One poem or two at a sitting, sipping wine or drinking tea, god, I want to be doing it right now!

​Today I have many questions and they all relate in some way (sure they do) to the same topic: Cheating in fiction. First, how do you feel about your main heroine cheating? Not on the hero (or in this case, anti-hero), but cheating on a former boyfriend, the minor character, sort of by chance, a man she really is not fulfilled or happy with? Further, and this is more of the question, must she fess up to it? Tell him? If someone cheated on you in real life, would you want to know if you were already broken up? What would it do for you to know except hurt you? Is “the truth” the most important thing? Or are the feelings of another? I hope you’ll indulge me to read the whole, blasted post.😊

As I edit EDGE of TORMENT (which often means rewriting certain sections as I read back), I come back to a topic that seems to disturb people. Cheating. But I’ve asked you that before. So it doesn’t end there. The novel has elements of cheating in it, but it’s more a tale of self-discovery, a woman staying in a safe relationship, because she thinks it’s what she must do, that she is obligated to do…that is until she meets someone who opens her up to a world of sexuality she’s sort of been waiting for her whole life…she just never knew it. It took him to unlock her deepest desires. And she follows her "bliss."

The issue isn’t that she should follow her heart, her bliss, and pursue happiness (at least I hope it isn’t. I would vehemently disagree with you there), it’s that she acts before she’s left the other man, albeit a bit spontaneously. And some readers get downright upset and angry with me for that. I thought of changing that…that perhaps she could be broken up with the former first. But the whole story line would change. And I rather like it as is, all angsty and imperfect. What say you? Should I rework a bit of the sequence? Or should I say: Fuck it. These are the realities of relationships, life, choices, and sexual discovery. I sort of made my mind to just leave things where they are. Annabelle is not perfect. None of the characters are. Why should they be? But…

Today, I bring you Ernest Hemingway. What a fascinating man! But so tragic. :( 

What was your first experience with Hemingway? What is your opinion of his work? Critics still can’t agree!

Hemingway is easily known as one of the greatest American authors. We have come to know him as the writer who disdained “the grandiose wordiness of Victorian prose for a clean, stripped-back simplicity, conveying emotion by what was not said as much as by what was.” In fact, I don’t think there is any living person who doesn’t know Hemingway and his “Iceburg Theory.” One article even compared his legacy to the literary equivalent to a Nike swoosh or the golden arches, asking, “Who doesn’t have a mental picture of the gray beard and safari shirt? Who couldn’t vamp a Hemingway-like sentence in a pinch?” And what a shame that perhaps because “we’ve come to fetishize this voice that we accept and even admire gnomic truisms like ‘a writer should write what he has to say’—an observation from Hemingway’s Nobel banquet speech,” we may miss what he was really good at: his “earlier, more uncertain writing—the prose that openly struggles to track and parse a mess of a life—that gets into your blood.”

In short, Hemingway tried to prove that less is more (coming from his journalistic background) and taking his cue from Ezra Pound who taught him to “distrust adjectives,” that adjectives can do more harm than good in writing prose. Some critics, however, say Hemingway’s penchant for creating novels that usually follow a basic chronological order, are boring and typical for one touted as such a great American author. And when critics aren’t arguing about his genius, they argue about why he is a genius! Some argue that it is that which Hemingway leaves out, which, by proxy means, we, the reader, must put back in, that makes him a genius, while others say it’s NOT what he left out but what he left in, and that everyone has gotten it all wrong! Confused yet? 😊

I’ll never forget my first experience with Hemingway’s work. It was “Hills Like White Elephants.” I don’t think there is a more stripped-down version of a tale out there. It had a profound effect on me. Today, in my career, Hemingway is by far the most argued-about “classic” writer in my field of teaching. Many don’t teach him, sadly, and call him overrated. I hear it a lot. “I can’t stand Hemingway.” In short, it seems you either love or hate him. How about read his work? There’s a start. 😊

​Today I ponder jealousy. Have you ever been jealous? Duh. Of course you have! All of us have. It’s as natural as breathing. Right? We’re human, and with that comes myriad emotions. And jealousy comes in many forms, but I’m talking more “romanticly-infused” jealousy.  In fact, jealousy has almost even been romanticized, especially in literature.

In our writing and/or reading, depending on which camp you’re in, we love bouts of jealousy with our characters. Don’t we? My books are filled with them! Love triangles we call them. We root for our heroine to get “her man” back from the snarling grips of some nemesis. Or we revel in the angsty ups and downs of the romance trope, the break-ups, the make-ups, “I hate you, I love you,” as Taylor Swift croons. Without tension and build up and conflict, why read the story, right? Rollercoaster of emotions if you will. Thrilling, but safe from the confines of our safe and comfy beds, under covers, lamp lit as we lick our finger to turn the page or swipe our across the tablet screen.

But in real life, it’s not always so neatly resolved. Sometimes it’s nothing: We might get twinges of envy that fade quickly, shaken off with a wave of the hand that says: This is silly. Stop it. Other times, it can be downright debilitating, causing our actions to be ridiculous, irrational even, especially in matters of the heart. And then there is every nuanced hue in between.
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Jealousy needn’t always be a bad thing either. It helps us, maybe, to keep things in perspective, to never take what we have or want for granted, to never become complacent. It can even keep a relationship fresh and exciting. Without any at all, it might even become stale or boring. No jealousy ever, and you wonder if your lover has any emotion in him. But if unchecked, it can be a monster, yes that “green-eyed monster which doth mock/The meat it feeds on.”

Love triangles and the like happen in real life, they’re not so fun, are they? Yes. There are some people who thrive on this kind of drama, who almost always seem to find themselves in the middle of things they shouldn’t be over and over. But they are not common. At least I like to hope they’re not. But some of us have been there, without trying, without even knowing sometimes. And it gets ugly. Fast. It can even turn obsessive, and that’s not good. Are you constantly “checking up” on someone? Scrolling their status or trying to see who/what/when/why/how they’ve interacted with someone? Extreme jealousy stems from extreme insecurity and that is where we must pause and self reflect. That is simply not healthy.

What’s really horrible is when you are on the end of jealousy. Someone is somehow jealous of you, and you have no idea why. Perhaps it causes them to lash out in both visible ways and duplicitous ways. Remember John Knowles’ A Separate Peace? Gene was so jealous, he “jounced the limb” of his best friend, which ultimately led to his death. Yes. Jealousy can do that. Sometimes around social media, we even see it among authors. The 1-star review perhaps or the “drama” and bashing I can see. We, too,  even see it between friends, like the characters from A Separate Peace, the biggest cut of all.

When you become the victim of someone else’s unchecked jealousy, it can lead to devastating consequences. Blame is placed on you for things out of your control. Someone’s boyfriend flirts with you or “likes” you, and somehow it's your fault. I never understand, speaking from the female perspective, but of course, it can be any combination, how when someone’s "eye roams," it’s the “girl’s” fault, never the man’s. That somehow it doesn’t take two to tango and falls on the sole shoulder of the woman the man decided to show attention to. One plus one equals two. Basic math here folks. One plus one does not equal one.
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So I leave you with this. I challenge us as human beings to stop and think about where our jealousy comes from. If you’re an overly jealous person, your actions probably reflect that. It’s not attractive. And it stems from deep insecurities, most assuredly past experiences that have colored you this way. But we must live in the present. We need to be the best possible version of ourselves we can be right now. And while we may love the color green as a dress on our bodies or a pair of Converse on our feet, it’s the not the only color in the universe. If it is, perhaps it’s time to open the 120 colors of your crayon box again. After all, life it too short to limit ourselves to one shade of color. We’re much more colorful than that. And we owe it to ourselves and others to paint our worlds with who we know we can be. 

​Yet another judgmental and arrogant person I've dealt with. Seems these last few weeks are filled with them, and I have no idea why! What is it about sensual images and the writing of erotic stories that can really get people’s knickers in a bunch? I addressed this last week with the word "erotic" and no sooner did I get into it with another on Twitter. This pompous know-it-all actually took one of my graphics and changed it. Now that takes effort! Would you like to see? I've attached it at the end if you do. 

I engaged with him, rather than simply block or lash out. Hell, I figured, at least I’m getting some interaction about my writing, right?  And it slowly turned into the “I have a degree in English lit…and…” Yeah? So do I, buddy. But I didn’t go there.

He wrote: “Usually if has anyone (sic) of either gender on the cover half naked, or uses the word Billionaire in the blurb, (or has a sword), I flick past it.” Okay. He is entitled to his opinion. But I did my own kind of flicking too (it may or may not have been with my middle finger!). Talk about judging a book by its cover. No mention of swords or billionaires in my blurb (not capitalized either, Mr. English major FYI), but yes, Natalie is en pointe ‘half naked.’ Oh my god. The gall, huh? Sadly, he is not alone in his view as Amazon agrees, because Temptation was put into the “jail” ages ago and my publisher hasn’t fixed it, because, well, if they do, I’ll lose all my reviews supposedly. This closed-minded way of thinking is getting old. And tiresome.

When he started to insult the Bard, and that he “never re-reads a book” (What????), I knew it was a useless, one-sided conversation, that I was dealing with a very bored man, an unhappy one I’m sure. He hadn’t read my work, and I realized he wasn’t going to. That somehow because I explore the sensual and erotic in my writing, I’m lesser. I espoused that it’s really sad that such judgments and repression run rampant so strongly and that I find it disturbing. The question that still lingers for me more than anything though, is why he felt the need to go out of his way to engage and further, rework a graphic of mine. Buddy—you need to have more sex. Clearly. And therein lies the crux of the problem. I'm convinced of it!

Natalie’s Edge is about the journey of discovering our true selves, including our sexual ones. The world of repression is very real, and for some of us, our writing is the only safe place we are allowed to express it. Writing that series was quite cathartic for me. And no one can take away its profound importance to my journey not only as a writer but as a human being who breathes and lives one day at a time.

Darkness can consume an individual, swallow up the light, an unhappiness that doesn’t make much sense when that person seems to have everything. And we must reckon that or wither. Writing and exploring some of our darker thoughts and desires can often free us. Sometimes, it’s even therapy for conquering depression. And sometimes, we don’t even know until we let our subconscious roam free on the blank pages soon filled with so much of our truth, we only then can start to live. To deny sensuality is repressed, archaic nonsense.

​I grew up with the Catholic idea that sex is bad, so I know a thing or two about repression. I keep thinking we’re making progress. But we really aren’t. I won’t get into my political views here. But it’s quite apparent. And I ask why…just why does expressing oneself and embracing all facets of our beings get minimized to a sound byte of “porn”? My work is not “porn.” It is about relationships and romance, exploration, and submitting to visceral desires, through the written word to elicit emotion. My work is about love and acceptance. And I pity those that choose to ignore and suppress a vibrant and important part of living… If someone wants to roam about half a man, to him I simply say: I actually feel bad for you. I know. I've been there.