I’m not above selling myself: The Art of Shameless Self Promotion
When I first delved into the blogging world (a whole two months ago) it was with the purpose of reaching out to people who might have similar interests to mine. Well, that and to get my name out there as an indie writer. This term has become so mainstream in our society today; it use to only apply to (in my opinion) lots of whiney chick music back in the days of CD’s. (My son has no idea what a CD is…. sad times we live in. He was amazed that there was a purpose for the CD player in our car and asked why we just wouldn’t stream pandora.) However, it’s become more and more popular to be an Indie artist and it’s no wonder why. Most companies are not willing to take risks on new artists, instead opting to go with the popular names which they know will make them more money. It can be discouraging but with the rise of Kindle and these types, I find there’s a niche out there like never before.
Anyways, I digress. As I sit here with a new hobby to obsess over (how many times can one check the stats page of their blog to see who is following them?!?) I find it actually takes a lot of work to write a blog, keep children from killing themselves, hold on to some sort of self preservation and sanity, have a social life and hey, complete a novel I’ve been working on for the last year.
This is not to say that I don’t already have a novel on Amazon. (Yay, here comes the self promotion!) Actually I have a couple but with the style of writing that I do here, I figure the one which is best suited to be of any interest to the blogging community who follows me would be the series (ok, series might be a bit misleading since it’s only one novelette right now but this is the one I attempt to write in between blogging and life) titled Death Inc. The Life and Times of a
Grim Reaper Soul Harvester.
In order not to make this blog just sound like a starving artists plea… (haha.. ok, if you knew the kind of meals my chef self makes every night for dinner you would know what a gross exaggeration this is) I’ll give a little bit of back story in what inspired me to write this series. It actually started with the reading of Harry Potter. You can hold back your sniggers if you didn’t care for the series, but what really got my attention was the way that the Weasely twins could make me laugh. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t laugh out loud very often, usually preferring a smirk or little snicker to a full out laugh. But several times in reading through the series, I heard myself laughing out loud in a quiet house. It got me thinking, could I write a story which would make people at least laugh once?
I sat on this idea for awhile, letting it stew. I knew it would have to be in my style of humor, which is, of course, stated quite clearly even in the name of my blog: Sarcasm. I knew sarcastic humor was not for everyone, but I figured there were enough people out there who could appreciate it. Then one day in the shower, the one place where I can think in silence for a little bit provided I remember to lock the door, the image of my book cover came to me. A well dressed woman with a fabulous pair of shoes and a scythe. Wait, why a scythe? I wasn’t quite sure what her story was but I knew in my soul (you might appreciate this term if you read the book) that this was my novel. Although I had written two others which I truly poured my time and my heart into, I knew this novel was the one with the better mass appeal.
So the character of Genesis was born and her world, the one where Soul Taking is run by a CEO controlled company, aptly name Death Incorporated (some of you might feel like your world is a lot like the Harvester Realm) came to fruition. It was a new realm into a world of fantastical realism (I just recently learned this term and was so thankful for being able to finally label my book not just as fantasy or fiction) and one which I had fun writing. There’s a lot of myself in my character, in fact so much so that many of my friends imagine my voice when reading my character. I’m assuming it’s because of her love affair with shoes and good sense of style with the right amount of sarcastic remarks for any situation and not the fact that she’s dark and Soul-less.
To hopefully peak your interest and make you want to drop whatever you’ve been doing up to now, I’ve attached a little teaser.
“I am Immortal.”
Now really, how long has it been since you’ve heard a pick up line as ridiculous as this? For me, I wish I could say it has been too long to remember; unfortunately, one liners like this seem to emanate from the overly bright (dripping with sarcasm, of course) patrons of the bar I frequent. Not that I’m really a drinker but I do love to analyze this aspect of human nature. Why I choose to constantly come to this bar knowing what kind of people dwell here is a separate issue all its own, one I can promise you will understand later. Returning to the red faced young man who has just issued this proclamation, I decide that for some humor I will indulge him.
“Really, you are?” From the instant look of surprise and happiness which has just dawned in his features, I can tell he has missed the sarcasm laced lightly beneath feigned interest.
“Yes.” (Hardly the expounded reasoning I was hoping for.) A bit more encouragement then.
“And how is it that you became immortal?”
He leans in and makes direct eye contact. Ah yes, he sees it now. Not many will hold my dark gaze for long; what they think they have imagined in my eyes terrifies them beyond belief. He glances down and, apparently encouraged by the ample amount of cleavage his gaze has just fallen on, continues. “I am immortal because I have fallen in love with an angel such as yourself. Isn’t it true that lovers of angels are also granted immortality?”
I laugh and shake my head. “A brilliant deduction. But surely what you just saw in my eyes confirms I am no angel.” He makes another brief moment of eye contact as I state this and nods his head in a sort of befuddled way. “I’ll be seeing you, probably not any time soon though,” I reassure him as I pat his hand and grab my purse.
As I make my way out into the rain drenched streets of Los Angeles, he feels the warmth returning to his hand. He hadn’t even realized it was cold. Don’t worry he won’t remember me in the morning; no one in that place will remember me in the morning. They never do. It’s part of my life, my job and my curse.
Have I peaked your interest? If so, check out the novel using this link here. If not, well, at least you didn’t waste too much of your day listening to me promote myself. Hey, we all have to start somewhere, right? 😉