Dear Sir, I read your post about how frustrated you are with your book’s sales on Amazon. I know — you did so many things right. You paid for editing and a professional cover. Proofreading. All the things a “professional” does.
You hit the magic publish button. And then… crickets.
You said even friends and family aren’t buying your book. You guessed maybe they’re hoping for complimentary copies, but the reviews would have been appreciated. Some helpful reader told you why that’s a bad idea.
Because if reviews are from people “connected” to you, they hurt your book sales instead…
A woman in California had a baby by Caesarean. A beautiful little girl she never got to see. She didn’t even know she was having a caesarean. She was unconscious and intubated, tube down her throat breathing for her like Darth Vader. Three days later, she died.
She never got to see her baby girl.
Never got to hold or kiss her.
Never got to name her.
Last thing she said was “make sure my kids get vaccinated.”
Her husband at least got to see the baby. He was down the hall. Another room, another bed. By the time his…
“As burns this saint, so will burn my soul.
I enter alive and I will have to get out dead.”
That’s the oath said by an inductee of the Cosa Nostra, said over the burning photograph of St. Francis of Assisi or the Virgin Mary. The induction starts with a phone call telling him to get dressed. Someone takes him to an undisclosed location, where they cut his trigger finger and let it bleed on the photo of a saint. Then they light the photo on fire. In his hand. When the photo has burned, he’s earned his bones. …
Did you know 7.5 million blog posts are published every day on the internet?
I know, right? Wth?
47,000 posts every day.
1,958 new posts every hour.
32 new posts every minute.
Some people think writing “more” is the way to get seen.
So they post a lot. Sometimes, twice a day.
Yup. Those two daily posts are definitely going to float right up to the top.
Nevermind the other 46,998 posts that went up the same day.
You can’t “quantity” your way to the top. …
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found its words. — Robert Frost
Most poetry pays peanuts. At least, mine does. That’s why I was so impressed to see a writing challenge for poets. And the prizes are great. $5000 for first prize. Second prize is $2500, and third pays $1000.
All you have to do is submit a poem about what “home” means to you. It can be as short as 100 words, or as long as 2000 words.
Here’s the exact instructions from their site…
What does “home” mean to you? Is…
Maybe you noticed I haven’t been sending this newsletter every Monday? I only write a couple of times a week, and Medium publishes newsletters to the author’s profile. So… our newsletters were taking over my feed. lol. I’ve switched to a monthly update published using Medium’s newsletter system but I will be promoting our stories off Medium. Good news if you read on…
In the last month, we had over 36,000 hours of read time on our growing pub. Our best day had over 2400 reads and even our worst day had over 500. Plus, our readership is growing. Two…
Sometimes, I write about the true stories behind fairy tales. Often, they include magical places. Like the forest the real Snow White ran through, or her real castle, where the magic mirror still hangs today.
Or the streets of Hamlin, where tiny silver rats mark the cobblestones where the real Pied Piper led 130 children away, never to return.
You know what readers often tell me? They want to go there. They want to see the fairy tale places I write about.
Here’s what you might not know. There are more fairy tale towns than the ones in the stories…
Trigger Warning; This story references cannibalism, but does not include graphic details. Please don’t read this to your kids without pre-reading it first.
Hansel and Gretel is one of the most famous fairy tales of all time. Except, it wasn’t a fairy tale, it was a tragedy. And it was true. At least, most of it. There are two parts the fairy tale got wrong. So terribly wrong.
I wonder if you can recognize the parts that weren’t true. If you don’t know the story, it goes something like this…
Once upon a time there was a poor woodcutter who…
Laying on the table, she was lightly tranquilized, but awake and conscious. The doctor asked her to recite poetry and sing songs while he performed the procedure. She started with her favorite poem.
As she was reciting poetry, the doctor drilled two holes at the top of her head. Small holes, less than an inch. Through her skull. Then he inserted small metal spatulas that looked like miniature butter knives.
She finished reciting her favorite poem, smiled at the nurses and started singing “God Bless America” in a rich, clear voice.
As she sang, he moved the tiny knives up…