The Ups and Downs of Book Reviews
I haven't met an author who wasn't nervous about reviews of their book/books. Everyone wants to be liked. It's an innate need to feel accepted. We grow up wanting to please people; first our parents, then our friends, and eventually everybody. From our boss and coworkers to our neighbors to complete strangers, we all want affirmation, positive recognition, and approval.
For authors, this need to be liked is personal. We create characters, settings, and plots from our imagination. Our imagination is an extension of ourselves. If someone doesn't like our book we often take it personally, even if we try really hard not to let that happen.
Every person out there is different. Everyone has different likes and dislikes for various personal reasons. We enjoy different types of music, have various hobbies, are attracted to certain people, and prefer certain flavors of food and drink. A person will try a food and either savor it with an ecstatic "Mmmm!" or make a face and spit it in a napkin. A song will either "speak" to the person or he/she will flip the channel. It's the same with a book. And that's okay.
What is not okay is when a person reads a book and then proceeds to destroy the author with ill-bred comments either publicly on Amazon or Goodreads, or in private in an email. I say ill-bred because apparently these people never learned the saying "If you don't have something nice to say don't say anything at all." Now, I'm not insinuating that authors shouldn't be critiqued. I'm saying there is a "professional" way of using words.
And no, I'm not talking about myself in this post. I have received critiques that I've been less than happy to hear, but then again, everyone is different and entitled to their opinion. I have witnessed other authors get their work shredded to the point that they question continuing being an author anymore. Their dreams are instantly crushed with a few inconsiderate words.
Why do these people (readers, reviewers) want to be so mean? Well, I think they are either jealous, think they "know it all", get a "pick me up" from putting others down, or are just simply mean, ugly-hearted bullies.
So, what should be done with these people? I'm not entirely sure. Confrontation? Ignoring them? Bashing their work? Buying one of their books, lighting a warm cozy fire and throwing the piece of crap in the flames while posting pictures on Twitter and Facebook?
One thing is for certain. Authors need to continue with their passions and never give up. Keep writing and publishing. There are people out there that you've already made very happy with your books. Continue for them and for your soul that desires to create. Your book is someones Mona Lisa. Someones Beethoven. Keep writing for them! Write for the reason that started you writing in the first place.
(Any grammatical errors in this are mine. It's directly due to me holding a puppy and cooing intermittently. And maybe a few pets and kisses.)
Heart All,
Kristi
Barrage of Introspection
Television silenced, I sit in the quiet solitude that screams at me. Paper and pen in hand, but I can't write a word. The thoughts are too loud. Anger pushes at the periphery, but gets tramped down by berating words. I stand and pace, dispirited. Outside, it's too bright as the hot thirsty trees sway, and I become entranced with the blinding green movement. Too soon does the reprieve of a moment become an onslaught of more unerring thoughts. I turn, dejected, and stare at the paper again. My last sentence- "I need..." I need what? A silent riot ensues in my mind, loud enough for me not to ignore. Not this time. I look at the soft skin on my forearm. I look at the highways of veins. Could I? Yes, I could...but would I? Would it make the screaming stop? If red wine blood drips down my arm would I feel relief or at least a temporary lull? It's so inviting... But I can't. It would feel good... But I won't. It would make everything go away for a bit......
Best Friends
We clicked immediately, as only best friends would. We noticed how alike we were, yet different enough to talk for hours on end. We shared our most deepest secrets; some that we had never told another soul. We talked on the phone every day, texted when we weren't, and even talked and texted to each other at the same time if we had something to say and their were too many ears around. We had our girls' nights where we went out to eat, had a drink or two, and went the book store. Not a rebellious night that some girls have, but it suited us just fine. We shared a kindred passion for reading.
You were always there when I needed a someone to talk to. I was by your side when you had your own troubles. The story of your difficult teen years showed me what kind a wonderful person you grew into. The escape from your ex husband proved how brave of a person you were. You were there for me when I fell into a depression; your kind hearted words were enough to slowly bring me out of it. You went to the hospital to wait during my surgery when you didn't have to. I stood by your side when you got a diagnosis that tore you up from the inside out.
Then insidiously, some unseen force slowly blindsided our friendship. I saw little signs that things weren't right between us. I couldn't understand the pernicious darkness settling around us, pulling us apart, and I hoped it would just go away. But the pull of the person/people that were new in your life had a stronger sway. I didn't want to impinge on your new life too much. I tried to keep up with conversations, told you I missed our girls nights, etc. Communication eventually died between us.
It took months for me to realize we weren't close anymore. My impetuous mind gave you every excuse in the book, took up for you when others weren't so kind, and held on to the single thread of hope that I kept close.
One day you called and you needed me. Without a second thought I was there. I gave you an entire day of my support, and I thought it was undoubtedly a turning point. That was until the communication died, yet again, afterwards.
That single thread I hung on to so tightly? It snapped. That day I closed off to the idea of trust. I felt like a fool letting you into my heart again.
Now, instead of the altruistic, easygoing, arms-forever-open person that I was, I now have a wall built around me for protection. How can I possibly trust anyone again? I don't know how to answer that. I can't see beyond this coat of armor I'm wearing.
Happiness Comes in a Spine
July 14th I will always remember as the day I became published. I received the "proof" copy of my book in the mail. It was like giving birth to my creation and gazing upon it for the first time, only minus the hospital setting...and the pain... I gave Amazon the OK to proceed with publishing the paperback and the ebook. Soon I saw my it available on Amazon.com. It was a sight to behold- I took a picture of my computer screen like the dork that I am. I started envisioning readers scrolling through books and coming across mine, exactly the way I search for my next big read. It was exhilarating. My lifetime goal came true because I had the will never to give up.
Now my goal is to get the word out about it. This is proving to be much more difficult than writing the book. Mostly, family, friends, and a few people who I only know online have read it. One person who I've never spoken to (online or otherwise) has read it. I was thrilled to hear she liked it. It's somewhat an odd feeling to want people, strangers, to read something I wrote. I've never been one to put myself out there. In fact, I was extremely quiet in school. God forbid if I did speak back then- everyone stopped and stared at me, causing my face to flame red and my breath to catch in my throat. Writing and publishing a book takes a fair amount of bravery. Something I'm still grasping.
I'm also working on my next book. Possibly two at once. That should prove to be interesting. I love it, though. I can finally call myself an author. I'm finally doing something that feels more than right. My happiness came to me in a spine.
Heart All,
Kristi
Conception of a Novel
(Portions previously posted on my 1st attempt at a blog.)
I started this journey when I was 13
after I read a book by V.C. Andrews. I decided right then that I wanted to write
a book and be able to hold it in my hands someday. I wanted to see my name on its spine and the title I'd chosen for it on its cover in big dazzling letters.
I wrote little things here
and there throughout my school years, but I was humble enough to realize I
couldn't write anything worth reading if I didn't live life first. I knew I had
to gain experience from many of life's lessons, and endure such things as a
broken heart, death of a loved one, falling in love, becoming a nurse, working
to make ends meet, cancer in a family member, raising kids, traveling, etc. I
knew if I didn't experience every emotion possible that I couldn't possibly
create characters for a book. I finally decided I was at that pivotal point when
I was 30 years old. I spent a few months gathering my ideas and plot points, and
then I began writing.
The death of a high school friend was the
inspiration for my story. I had a crush on him in high school, although he never
knew of it. He died at age 30 and left behind a wife and two kids. I knew I
wanted to write a YA novel, so I made him into a teenager again. I wrote a few
paragraphs every night. Sometimes I put it down for a week or two at a time only
to be drawn back as if it was calling to me.
Four years of writing got me
to the last paragraph...and the last word. First and last words encompass a
creation, and this was my creation.
It's immeasurable to state how elated
I was to have completed it. But, the hard part was yet to come. I had no idea
how many revisions books go through until I had to revise mine. I had this notion that writers simply had to fix a few typos or add a few commas during their revising, but I quickly learned that was not the case. I needed to change whole characters, rewrite many paragraphs, add new paragraphs, and take out adjectives that I really liked. I ended up having a word funeral for a certain few adjectives... Sniffle, Sniffle.
I'm undoubtedly looking forward to the day I hold
my own novel in my hands. And I'm even more excited for people to read it.
Heart All,
Kristi
Classic
Unseen Research Subjects
I had to do quite a bit of research for my book, One Petal Flower. Some of it was done online or in person with friends. The other part of it was done in complete darkness with a camera, recorder, headphones, and a flashlight.
I'm a paranormal investigator with INsight Paranormal Investigations. We are a part of the TAPS Family of teams. We travel all over Oklahoma and the surrounding states, and our services are free to the clients. Our goal is to determine the presence (or lack) of paranormal activity in homes and businesses in hopes of calming frightened home/business owners. If we are lucky, we gain technological material/pictures to study and further our research. We have an insurmountable desire to have proof of life after death.
I can say I have obtained my best research for my book by being on this team. I have been in more creepy places than I can remember-- old and new mansions, basements, theaters, museums, sheds, hotels, apartments, trailer houses/brick houses, restaurants, and an old tuberculosis sanitarium. In each, we would stay for 4-9 hours. That equals out to be 4-9 hours of reviewing what is on your recorder. It's a process that calls for a LOT of patience and persistence.
It also calls for a fair amount of courage. It's not always easy to sit in a dark room in the dead of the night. (Excuse the pun, lol.) Your mind plays tricks on you if you let fear seep in. You'll start to see things that are not there. (That was the first lesson I incorporated into my book.) Therefore, you have to remain calm and positive. I almost go into a meditative state and my team members repetitively "lose" me, often saying "Where's Kristi?" when I'm right there in front of them. I'm simply trying to open up all of my senses.
Most of the time I'm never lucky enough to hear voices with just my ears; I have to use a recorder to capture them. I rarely see shadows or lights darting across the room. My team members will, and I'll always get so frustrated that I missed it. I attribute this to my team members possibly being more "sensitive" than I am. The few times I did see shadows or lights, I was SO giddy afterwards. It seems like that wouldn't be a typical reaction to seeing a possible ghost, but for a paranormal investigator it's the normal reaction.
Except...not when something follows you home. It's routine to state out loud that nothing is permitted to follow us home; that they are to stay there. The ONE time I didn't do that is the ONLY time I will ever forget. After leaving an old mansion with claims of "trickster ghosts," I went home to go to bed. The TV in my room came on by itself to an odd channel, and it was very loud. I jumped a foot above my bed, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest, and ran over to turn the TV off. I made the statement that I should have made earlier than night right then and there. It has never happened again since then (and it had never happened before that night either).
Some of the other things we hope to experience during an investigation: phantom smells (cigar smoke or anything that is not supposed to be there), touches (can feel like cobwebs sometimes), cold spots, and the holy grail--a fully body apparition. I was lucky enough to see a face one time, and it was confirmed that something was there because the person I was with heard a sound in the same place I saw the face. I had seen my team member's head whip around to the area right after I saw it. I was ecstatic! Although, what I see with my eyes (not captured on a video camera) will not be concrete proof to show the client, but it is icing on the cake as far as personal experiences go.
I hope people will read One Petal Flower and enjoy finding all of the paranormal elements I added. It was certainly a delight to write.
Heart All,
Kristi
On the Edge of My Seat
I did it. I sent my very first book off to be published. What do I feel like? I pretty much feel that I'm looking off of a cliff with a very deep canyon as I stand on its edge and little rocks near my feet fall to the unknown depths below. But beyond that canyon is a limitless horizon with mesmerizing colors of celebration. Ultimately, I see it as I will either fall, or fly.
Of course I hope that I fly. I've spent four long years creating my novel. It wasn't until February 2012 that I really dove into the other aspects of getting my book published. I started Twitter and met some really nice people; one of whom I couldn't have proceeded with this dream had he not noticed my potential in an interview on www.smblooding.com.
Javier Robayo, author of The Gaze and The Next Chapter, saw that I was just beginning my journey, and had the compassion to take such a "newbie" under his wing. He has been a wonderful mentor and sweet friend. Hopefully, I didn't make him pull out too much of his hair because God knows I have no computer skills or anything that relates to the World Wide Abyss. All of a sudden, I needed to join Goodreads, make a Facebook fan page, make a blog, make a website...my mind was reeling! All of that on top of finishing my novel! But, oh, the "finishing" part is a whole other story...
Javier was kind enough to help me edit my book, along with another friend of mine. Between the both of them I was revising until I couldn't see straight. My family had to listen to "Hang on!" and "In a minute!" more times than they wanted. I was determined to get it finished- the real meaning of the word. That was official on July 8th, 9th, and 10th. Yes, it was three days basically. So, when I celebrate every year I will get to celebrate for three days straight!
I should get the physical book in my hands by the end of this week sometime. THAT will be one of the most emotional days in my life. I can't wait. :)
Heart All,
Kristi
