The Little Things

At chez Too Many Cats, we're concentrating on the little things. Repotting plants, some of which have stowaways. (That's a frog in that pitcher plant. This is a problem because the pitcher plant will kill the frogs. We rescued this one, even though he didn't much want to be rescued.)  We're playing with felines, cooking, wiping down all the doorknobs and heavily used surfaces with disinfectants every day. We're taking more walks. The whole neighborhood is, it seems. I've seen more of my neighbors in the past few weeks than I've seen since moving in here over a year ago. The friendly quotient has gone way up. Everyone waves or calls hello, simply glad to have the access to other people, I suspect. We cross the street when we see one another coming so we can all keep that distance we're supposed to keep. 

And I write. At the moment, it's The Never Ending Synopsis from Hell. It's for a book that's finished. An agent has requested the full. Yay. It was a bit of a shocker because I hadn't realized I was subbing the MS when I participated in a workshop my local RWA chapter put on awhile ago. We sent in our first three pages of a story and it was critiqued by an editor or an agent. I honestly thought that was the end of it. So it surprised me a bit when I got an email asking for the full. Sure. No problem! I have the book right here -- aaand no synopsis. Woo. So that's what's on my mind. Little things. Story summaries. Frogs being digested by carnivorous plants. And, of course, here's what's on my lap. My coworker doesn't respect my personal space, much less social distancing.

Binge Reading, a Bookworm's Approach to Series

Do you remember as a kid finding a book in the library? It looked great, so you checked it out. Then you started reading. It's a hit out of the park. You LOVE this book. You're right in there with the characters, laughing, crying, fighting -- and then the book ends on a cliffhanger. Then and only then do you realize you have a book that's the first in a series.

Heart fluttering, you rush back to the library. There! On the shelf! More titles by the same author. You search frantically. You come up with books three and four and seven.

Right then. Right there. Your innocent little bookworm heart breaks just a little. And you learn. NEVER start a book without 1. first knowing whether it's part of a series and 2. that you can acquire the rest of the series.

Maybe your life was settled and you grew up in some rarified place where books were as important to your family as they are to you. If you did, you could generally be sure that if you developed an addiction to a series that was still being written (as opposed to one already completed) you'd be able to get a hold of the latest in the series when it finally came out. Those of us without such assurance, at the mercy of library systems without our loyalties to long-running series, learned never to start a series until it was finished and all the books in the series were available.

This is the long way of saying I strongly favor writing stand alone books, which is amusing, because everything I have is part of a series or leaves the door open to being a series. Funny how the world turns, isn't it?

As it happens, at the time that Enemy Within sold, series were THE thing. I'd written the book as a stand alone. Straight up, I admit that I did. And then my editor asked if I could make it a series. I was still so afraid someone would take back that publishing contract, I said that of course I could. So I did. Same thing happened with Nightmare Ink, though I wised up before I wrote that one and I planned it out as a series because I could see the handwriting on the wall. Sure enough. That same editor asked for a series treatment. At least this time around, I was ready for it. And now that I'm writing my series, I love them. I don't want to abandon them any more than I wanted to read the first book in a series I'd never find book number two for when I was a kid.

This isn't to say I don't love reading series. I do. And now that I'm an adult with my own book budget AND Amazon Prime, I can do my very favorite thing in the world: Find a series I love and buy the whole damned thing in one go. Because you binge watch GoT if you want. I'll binge read Jeffe's Twelve Kingdoms, thanks.

I desperately wanted a bookwormish sort of photo to give you. I don't have one. But I do have a little green garden frog who was hanging out in the zinnias yesterday. I have yet to ask what his reading preferences are.

Book Trailer Challenge

I know nothing about book trailers. Except that I've seen a few, and those few haven't left a good impression. There might be a way to create a killer book trailer, but I sure haven't seen it yet. Maybe if I did Claymation excerpts? But, you know, I already have a job or three. So that's not likely to happen in this lifetime.

I like video/film as a mode of expression. Not crazy about it as a means of selling. That's a me thing. I suspect I've got some prejudice about using the visual storytelling mode (video) to tell a story about a story told in a nonvisual mode. It shorts my simple brain. Right now, YouTube seems geared for the unbearably cute, the sadistically amusing, or the insanely clever.

I'm sure someone out there can create book trailers that fit all of those criteria. That someone is not currently me.

So while I think video has some serious strengths if you understand the pros and cons of the medium. It's an excellent teaching tool. Most people in our culture are visual learners. So there's that. Silly cat videos (KittenLady and TinyKittens, anyone?), DIY projects, instructional videos, experiences travel and adventure vids, and actual performance (assuming you can handle the trolls) - those are the things that really seem to pop on YouTube. If I still had an orange cat (sniff) I'd consider doing a trailer for Damned If He Does - it would be all from the cat's point of view. But. Ship sailed.

All of that said, I do have a YouTube channel. It's pretty invisible because my video quality is crap. It's all cat videos, boat videos, and this. The Night of The Frogs.

So. Book trailers? Nope. Not unless I can come up with a way to make marketing the written word via a visual medium I can't justify the cost or time. Now. Someone come tell me why I'm wrong. I'm always interested in learning that I'm thinking about something incorrectly.