Crowing

Paperback: 180 pages

Publisher: YMAA Publication Center (June 25, 2008)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1594391181

ISBN-13: 978-1594391187

Product Dimensions: 8.9 x 6 x 0.6 inches

Shipping Weight: 11.2 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)

Average Customer Review:   (37 customer reviews)

Amazon.com Sales Rank: #4,755 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Popular in these categories: (What's this?)

#1 in	Books > Sports > Individual Sports > Mixed Martial Arts
#4 in	Books > Sports > Individual Sports > Martial Arts
#8 in	Books > Nonfiction > Social Sciences > Violence in Society

Don't forget your flashy friend

It's the beginning of the month, which means Flash Fiction Online has posted its latest issue.  Don't miss it!  It's free!  It's fast!  It's flashy!

Shameless Plug and Public Humiliation

My DH's book is doing well, at least in reviews.  He links to some others in his blog.

It's wonderful to see what people think about his work.  I'm sure it would be a lot less wonderful if people gave low star reviews.  I've often contemplated what it would be like to get panned or a snarky review in a major newspaper or high traffic blog.  At least on Amazon you're a shade on the invisible side.  Unless someone is looking for you or happens to do a search that will pull your book up (much more likely for non-fiction than fiction) and you turn up within the first few pages, you're not going to be on very many peoples' radar.  If your book isn't very well received, this is a blessing.  And books that aren't very well received are self-sorting.  Unless the publisher does a huge amount of publicity, if you crash and burn it'll be into a very small, relatively private region of hell.  But oh, what a special, ugly hell it still can be.  So I'm glad folks enjoy the book and find the information valuable.  And my advice is, if you want to be a writer, be prepared for the possibility that you may end up in the public eye in a big or small way that won't do anything good for your ego, not to mention it won't earn you much money.  

There are no guarantees in publishing.  It can be a lose lose.  As long as you accept that possibility and, if you end up there, plan to learn from the experience and write even better (under a new name, of course) then your persistence and attitude will eventually, hopefully, pay off.  You can make that experience work for you and hopefully you'll convince a publisher to take one more chance on you.  Your writing career can live to tell the tale.  This is easiest to do if you both believe in what you're trying to teach or express and if you allow for the possibility that you're wrong (or just a little off) or that you can't express yourself as well as you thought (or you couldn't reach through to a high enough percentage of the people who read your work.)

If, however, you expect success and giddy reviews and a fanfare, you may be setting yourself up for more than a disappointment.  Know yourself, know the emotional risks.  Walking with those unrealistic expectations in your eyes may prevent you from seeing the approaching cliff.  Believe me, it's better to climb down than fall off.  You may still end up in that special, little hell just for you, but it's easier to work your way out if you're not broken into lots of tiny little smoldering pieces.

Opening for Mayhem

Again with the contest.  I noticed that the folks that posted links to their blogs and posted their entry there got some comments back.  It's early but I haven't gotten anything (yet) so I thought I'd follow their fine example and open myself to comments on my own opening.

Thanks to the INKers who've already commented on the opening when I posted it on our website.  You guys are always welcome to add more, of course, but I don't want to pressure you to comment here if you're not inspired to.  I didn't intend for this to be extra work for the group.

Here goes:

As a small child I once lost my balance and touched my hand on a red hot stove.  Before the pain stabbed into my fingers and struck my mind I remember feeling foolish and frightened.  I cried out a not-very-small-child curse and put my fingers in my mouth just as the pain hit me.  My mother hurled herself across the kitchen and pulled me up into her arms.  That scent of our tribe's plush wool, the softness of homespun cloth against my face, the red hair of a Kilhells woman and green eyes staring into mine had always brought me comfort.

I know I'm dreaming, but that same hot pain I remember feels real, and there's no comfort this time.  I'm trapped in that room again, the desert heat doubled by infernal fire in a hearth.  I'm tied with bark rope on top of a camel hair rug.  Instead of hot pokers, carving instruments are heating to white brilliance three feet from my face.  There's a helefrit straddling me.  Nearby, the blood of an infant has dried to black flakes.  I want to wake up, but just like when it was actually happening, I'm helpless

Something wooden cracks nearby and all at once I'm awake, gasping, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.  My body tingles from the memory of my flesh burning and I'm sticky and smelly with sweat.  I'm back in the present, cradled in a hammock in the belly of a sailing ship.  Sailors stand around a barrel they've dropped.  One sailor glances my way from under the brim of his dirty white hat with an apologetic look.  The others don't meet my gaze.  I'm not sure if they know something's wrong with me, or if it's just me.  My name is famous.  I'm famous, though hardly anyone has met me.  It's always a surprise when people take my word for it that I am who I say I am.  I'm plenty tall for a woman, but I don't think I'm tall enough for a myth.  I don't wear armor, I've lost my sword, and not only did I fail to do anything to aid the war, I think I might be on my way to assassinate the only man who can save the world.

I think people believe that no one would dare claim they were me.  I don't feel up to defending my name or my honor, though, as I awkwardly climb out of the hammock and go to ease the pressure in my bladder.  I don't stagger as the massive ships rocks from one side to the other.  My sea legs come back faster each time I sail, and take longer to go away when I'm on dry land again.  For hours after a long voyage, sometimes overnight, it feels like the land rolls under me, and I often dream of storms at sea.

Because I can't leave well enough alone

I entered a first page contest on Nathan Bransford's blog page with the first page of my WIP Mayhem (I've rewritten this thing how many times now?  Maybe this time I'll get it right.)  Good move, I think, but then I did something a little crazy.  I offered to critique first pages for anyone who wanted advice.  Not that I'm anyone in particular, but sometimes it's good to hear feedback from someone who has no vested interest in you whatsoever.  I could get swamped, or I could get a whole lot of nothing.  I'll post the critiques of those works when their writers give me permission to do so right here on Jestablog.  This could go nowhere, or it could be a whole lot of fun, or I could start drinking heavily and sobbing shortly after I check my email.  There were over 600 submissions to the contest.  Good luck to us all, but especially me, because this is my blog and la la la I can wish myself luck if I want to and you can't stop me nyah nyah nyah!

If you're from the contest and you came to my webpage, you're also welcome to submit your page in my comments section if you'd rather do it that way than sending email.  Also, you get a blessing from the writing googalah.  Tseeng tseeng!  Now you have extra luck in the contest.  

Shameless Plugs and a Dog Note

I wanted to mention that my website and Rory's website are both at a point that we'd love to have the word go out about them.  Tell your friends.  Tell your family.  We'll keep updating them and adding stuff, but what we have there now (I think) is nice enough that we'd be happy for visitors.  And please feel free to sign our guestbooks.  It's nice to see friendly names there.  I have a feeling that eventually the spam bots will find us, and at that point we'll have to shut them down.  Before that happens, we'd love to hear from everyone that stops by.

Second, a probably needless reminder that Rory's book is available on preorder from Amazon.com.  He has a link to it from his website.

In other news, Finn has a yeast infection in his ears.  For those of you who have dogs with floppy ears in particular, but pretty much any dog, the ears should look really clean even if the rest of the dog isn't.  Dirty ears are often a sign of yeast or bacterial infections or mites.  Another sign is the head shaking.  Dogs shouldn't shake their heads very much.  This apparently is prime season for yeast infections in dogs, so keep a look out.  Finn is doing well and he'll be done with his meds in about ten days.  The vets were very happy to see him.  The last time he visited, he was about twenty pounds.  Now he's 88 and thriving.  Mojo's loss was hard on them too, and we all needed the pick-me-up of a healthy animal coming in for a minor problem.  

You're such a good dog, Finn.  Thank you for being a love.