Consumer Power, Author Responsibility & Why Book Reviews MATTER

January 4, 2016October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / Leave a comment

I had planned a post on writing reviews this week; however, Kristin Lamb had a post out today that was superb. So, no sense in reinventing the wheel. Not only does she provide valuable insights into reviews and their importance to authors, but give us some cautionary truths, as well. Take it away, Kristin.

Kristen Lamb's Blog

Too many choices!

We’ve had an eventful week or so with my last couple of unplanned posts. In all fairness, I did expect to get some knickers in a twist (which I did) with my post Pay the Writer. As a quick recap, I love used bookstores. They get a lot more of my money than I like to admit *looks up number to 12 Step Sponsor*

You don’t understand. Half Price Books has books ZEN DOODLES. No frigging idea what those are…just that I need some.

I’m not against “discovering” an author there.

But writers? If we promote used bookstores, make sure to remind readers you don’t get paid that way. Discovery must serve a purpose. Exposure must have the follow-up to be effective.

Because if you don’t ever make any money, you have to go work retail. If you work retail, one day you will be asked one too many stupid…

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37 Flavors of Rejection

December 7, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / Leave a comment

We all hate rejections, but I must say Christina gives rejection a whole new flavor and I admit, it tickled my fancy! Thanks Christina!

Why You Need a Theme – And How It Can Kill Your Writing

May 25, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 2 Comments

When I began writing my novel, theme was not a conscious part of the early drafts. But, as I wrote the theme naturally evolved.
P.S. Hoffman points out, …”theme will help you find exactly where you need to end your writing, be it fictional, or other.”

P. S. Hoffman

This was the last thing Swen said to me, before he jumped off the cliff: “I’m going to do something that you will never forget. Witness me.”

As he fell upon the war band, I watched as a car, covered in spikes, collided with his body. I watched as the explosives fell from his hand, undetonated, and his body impaled on the car’s spear-covered hood.

But Swen died with a smile on his silver-stained lips. And he did not die in vain.

Weeks passed, the brothers were killed, and the fortress fell, but still, I could not rid myself of Swen’s dying words. It was only after the water began to run again, when the sanded bluffs turned from red to green did I fully realize Swen’s message.

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