That’s really a pathetic title, isn’t it? Seriously though, in the wise words of TLC, “I ain’t too proud to beg” for some book sales, and I also thought this fit the style of my books bringing back the nostalgia of the ’80s and ’90s through music and other now dated pieces of pop culture.
Releasing my second book in the Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl series is a pretty big deal to me…you know… because I wrote the book and all. Today is that big day and I want to share it with as many people as possible. And I want you to share it with as many people as possible. So I’m going on tour, virtually. I begged (and possibly blackmailed) a few people to post about me and my book on their blogs through next week. Each day, I’ll link their posts to my blog. I’m also going to host a sort of Facebook release party a few evenings next week. Join if you can. Trick someone else into joining if you can’t. I’ll have some trivia of the times, a few guest authors, and some Q&A moments. It’s a public event on Facebook I’ll be sharing on my author page.
I like to mix the truth with imagination, so this is about one part truth, one part nostalgia, and three parts imagination.
Book Blurb: “It’s just another extraordinarily ordinary year in Drew Hotchner’s world, and one she faces again with wit and sarcasm. Freshman year is the only thing that just might be more horrific and awkward than middle school, and Drew cannot avoid it. Thankfully, she is not alone and still has her support crew of friends, because some things never change, no matter the setting. Old enemies return and new distractions abound, such as a new crush, even while she holds onto the old, the advent of the grunge music movement, helping to plan a wedding, and the creepy neighbor boy down the equally creepy rural road. Drew must again learn to hold her own in the unknown and to stay true to her identity while also learning that doing the right thing is not always the easy thing and may take a degree of maturity a fourteen year old often doesn’t realize she has.”
And here’s an excerpt to whet your Drew Hotchner appetite:
And so It Begins
As the casket slowly lowered down into the grave, tears were dabbed from damp faces with pristine, white tissues, stark against the corresponding black dresses. From my vantage point in class, I could watch entire funerals take place in the cemetery next to, and down the hill from, Florntayor High School. I wondered who these people had been and whom they had left behind. I found myself making up dramatic stories in my head about their lives and tragic deaths. This was the second funeral during this class period within the first two weeks of school. How fitting that it was during my math class, the most dreaded of all subjects for me.
Jolting me from my daydream, a hand reached back and grabbed my left ankle, which I had apparently been jiggling as I had crossed that leg over the other. This proved to be too much temptation for Chip, the huge redneck who sat directly in front of me and asked me out daily. The overgrown senior turned and smirked, not letting go of my ankle. I mouthed silently to him that he better let go, but he just held on tighter and shook his head, his frizzy mullet rustling over his plaid flannel collar and bare, yet Chewbacca-fuzzy shoulders (the flannel sleeves had obviously been ripped off to allow for a more functional summer shirt), so I used my other foot to kick him in the butt, just missing his can of chew. “Ouch!” he howled, drawing attention from Mr. Bunson, my worst nightmare.
“Mr. Dicksen, what seems to be the problem?” Mr. Bunson inquired, peeking over the oblong glasses that had slid down his nose.
“She kick’d me!” Chip whined as he pointed his thumb back my way.
“Is this true, Ms. Hotchner?”
“Only because he grabbed my ankle and wouldn’t let go,” I stated as matter-of-factly as I could.
“There is no reason to resort to violence, young lady,” Bunson reprimanded as he tried to get his lab coat unhooked from something sticking out of the table in the front of the room. This was pre-algebra. Why did he wear that thing anyway? It’s not like we were mad scientists mixing chemicals. We were just trying to solve for x and y, or in my case, trying not to fall asleep. In the very moment he unhooked himself the bell mercifully rang. “You keep your feet to yourself, Ms. Hotchner. Ladies do not kick, and I will not hesitate to write you up if it happens again.”
“But he grabbed my ankle. It was self-preservation. Why doesn’t Mr. Dicksen get in trouble?” I asked, almost a bit too mockingly. Realizing I probably should have kept my mouth shut, I quickly added, “I promise I won’t do it again, if you could just move him away from me. He bothers me every day and I’m afraid he’s hindering my ability to learn.” Maybe I could change my sass to a plea for help. A sort of “Help me, Mr. Bunson; you’re my only hope” type tactic.
“Is that so? I’ll consider that. Do not be as late for your next class now as you were for mine.” Ouch. I had already been late for Mr. Bunson’s class two times in as many weeks, quite possibly coinciding with the days of the funerals, though I could not remember for sure. I had to race all the way across campus after changing from gym class, and I had to stop at my locker because there was nowhere to keep my math book in the locker room, so even though I’d been halfway in the classroom at least one of those times, Mr. Bunson had written me up for being tardy both times. One more tardy would equal after school detention for me. The worst trouble I’d ever been in before was two days kicked off the bus and two weeks of bus probation when I was in middle school, which incidentally, was also an unjust punishment when I had stood up for someone. I could already tell Mr. Bunson did not care for me any more than Mrs. Nelson, my bus driver, cared for me.
I wished I could start this school year over again, maybe with a different schedule, or in an entirely new location. High school was supposed to be better than middle school, but being a freshman sure didn’t feel like a step up. I was content to not stand out in any way for the rest of high school, as I was certain it would be easier to survive that way. For this reason, I was glad my friends and I had chickened out of our original plan to make an impression on our new teachers and fellow students…
Copyright 2014
To read this book, please stop by Amazon to purchase either the ebook, the print book, or both. The good news is that even though it’s the second book in the series, you don’t need to have read the first to make sense of this one, but you may find you want to anyway, just because it’s awesome.
And if you do, please review
Interested in winning a copy of my ebook? Click the link below.
In my upcoming book Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: Fresh-meat Year, Drew’s musical tastes have grown and grunge has been unleashed. With each video, I’ve included the excerpt where the song or band is mentioned.
Metallica: Enter Sandman
“My guess was he was just a bit taller than I was, and his dark brown hair hung in his face, covering one of his eyes. He wore a black Metallica tee shirt, so I knew he had good taste in music. We would be a perfect match.”
Jesus Jones: Right Here, Right Now
“In the time it took me that night to do my homework, except for the pre-algebra I was avoiding, and listening to my entire Jesus Jones cassette tape (both sides), Ryan called for my sister seven times.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7z6dxQVhE8o
Paula Abdul: Rush Rush
“I expressed this theory to Adrienne as I dropped off her books that afternoon and we watched Paula Abdul and Keanu Reeves in her Rebel Without a Cause style video for ‘Rush Rush.’ Somehow we found her to be an acceptable pop artist, and we both drooled over Keanu, just as we had while watching him bring down surfer bank robbers in Point Break.”
Nirvana: Smells Like Teen Spirit
“That evening I was introduced to Nirvana for the first time and their “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video revolutionized our outlooks on pep rallies and helped usher in a whole new style of musical genius to teens everywhere. Soon after, the Bubba-Joes and Allie-Maes of Florntayor weren’t the only ones wearing flannel shirts. Grunge had arrived, and it was wonderful.”
Ozzy Osbourne: No More Tears
Dustin and Adrienne were watching Ozzy’s “No More Tears” video from an old floral couch with wooden trim and threadbare arms.
Billy Ray Cyrus: Achy Breaky Heart (hahahahaha!)
“That was Chip Dicksen, the redneck senior in my math class who thinks grabbing my ankle is a turn on.”
“You better watch out. With that mullet, he’s likely to sing ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ to you.” I simply rolled my eyes in response.
Red Hot Chili Peppers: Under the Bridge
While Anne and I happily watched Anthony Keidis running and running in the “Under the Bridge” video, Mona and Violet’s minion Julia came sauntering in our direction.
Soundgarden: Outshined
I spied a black Soundgarden shirt draped over his desk chair, which I picked up and flung at him. “I’m going to need you to put this on,” I said as I lowered my backpack from my shoulders, untangling my hair from the upper loop.
Firehouse: Love of a Lifetime
“It’s a mystery,” she replied, shaking her head sympathetically. “But they danced to ‘Love of a Lifetime,’ so they’re probably going out now. I saw them together earlier.”
Guns N Roses: Don’t Cry
We managed to escape the world where parents mattered while attempting to rescue Princess Toadstool, later known as Princess Peach, in Dustin’s attic bedroom. Guns N’ Roses blared from the stereo. We stopped between levels as “Don’t Cry” came on. “I love this song. I know it’s a released song and everyone knows it and all, but it’s still one of my favorites on this album,” Dustin admitted, and we listened without speaking, all the way until Axl Rose held out the final note, his voice wavering up and down, and then we resumed the game until Adrienne’s mom showed up.
Jane’s Addiction: Been Caught Stealing
“Ugh. Now I have to find another date,” I replied.
“Take Adrienne.”
“No way. She’s got Jane’s Addiction concert tickets that night. Besides, Angela didn’t think I could get a real date, so the gauntlet has been thrown down, in a matter of speaking.”
Pearl Jam: Alive
The great debates of our lives became whether or not Adrienne and I were going to torture ourselves by not only attending the upcoming homecoming game but the dance as well, whether Nirvana or Pearl Jam was better, and whether or not Dustin liked me. We were currently undecided on all fronts.
Bryan Adams: Everything I Do
For the rest of the night some poetry was recited by a mousy junior girl and Bryan Adams’s “Everything I Do” was sung a cappella, and badly, by a senior who was using it as a means to ask a girl to prom. She said yes and with tears in her eyes, which were obviously there for different reasons than the tears I had in my eyes after the performance.
Sex Pistols: God Save the Queen
“Do you think they’ll have Sid and Nancy: Love Kills?” Adrienne had taken an interest in British punk music as of late, and had written “God Save the Queen” and “Sex Pistols” on all her notebooks.
Guns N Roses: Patience
He played the usual “Electric Slide” type torture after the first bride and groom and father and daughter dances, but he had brought along a selection that Dustin and I enjoyed as well, including Guns N’ Roses’ “Patience,” which became our slow dance for the evening.
The Doors: Riders on the Storm
We both sat without speaking for what felt like eternity, but I knew was only about thirty seconds because we only covered a short stretch of the drive home in that time and we didn’t make it past the beginning of The Doors’ “Riders on the Storm.”
I love reliving my youth through the music that shaped it, and I think Drew would too. Hopefully you relived yours a bit as well. The book will be unleashed tomorrow at http://bit.ly/tlklaes
In my weird little writer’s world, this week is a big deal. I will launch the sequel to my Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages this Friday, both in print as an an ebook. Drew, my protagonist also just shared a birthday with the anniversary of the original theatrical release of Star Wars from back in 1977 (of course that’s why I chose that as her birthday!) I thought it was the “perfect storm” to brew up something special to celebrate, so I decided to run a Kindle Countdown Deal on the ebook so people might be able to catch up with Drew’s life before her freshman year surfaces.
This is my first experience with Kindle Countdown Deals and I’m not super impressed. Oh, sure, it’s not just them; it’s me as well. But, sadly, it’s just not what I thought it would be. In looking for places to promote this sale I discovered these deals are not a big enough deal to have any special places to promote the sale, unlike all the options out there for doing free days on Kindle. Most of the people I can reach on my own at this point through social media have already purchased or read my book, or probably just aren’t ever going to, even if I gave it to them for free and it’s the last book on Earth. I need to reach new people, but there really isn’t a place to do it in this format. When I signed up through KDP the information read that some books would be listed on Amazon’s special page for Kindle Countdown Deals, but there was no information on how to make that happen, so I figured it must be a random selection,a sort of Russian Roulette, but apparently, my book was not random enough as it is not on the list of about 10 books.
This was supposed to help create magical excitement to help lead into my new book’s release, but I now feel empty inside and let down. I mean, sure, my Amazon page now has a little, itty-bitty countdown clock, but people still have to find the page to see the clock. Oh, well. It’s all a learning experience, I suppose.
What the heck is the proper etiquette between authors and their friends (or family)?
When I first wrote my book and put it out there for reading, I was asking everybody if they’d read it because I was excited. It turns out, most friends are not nearly as excited about the book as the author is. Some don’t even have the desire to read the book, much to the author’s chagrin. But hey, not everybody likes to read books at all. It’s a sad truth I cannot fathom, but have learned to accept (though I grieve for these people and I say a prayer for their souls).
Putting people on the spot was getting awkward. I even had one friend who confessed she could not read my book because she couldn’t get past my female protagonist having a boy’s name. At least this friend was honest, and I respect that. Instead of getting my feelings hurt and taking the lack of interest personally, I figured if my friends read the book they would tell me about their experiences after the fact, so I would no longer pester them (well, that’s how part of me made peace, while the other part still feels true friends should be supportive and read it even if they aren’t book lovers). I did get some great responses and support this way.
Then there are the ones who I think read the book, but I’ve heard nothing from them about it. This is the other awkward part. At first, I figured this meant they did not like the book and just didn’t want to have to tell me. I guess I relate to this because I hate hurting people’s feelings and would personally probably avoid the discussion if I were in that situation. It’s like when people have babies. Most people will fawn all over a baby because it’s what’s expected, but I cannot be the only one who thinks they don’t usually get cute for at least a few months…maybe (and some never do). I’m not going to sell out and tell a mother her baby is cute if it’s a blatant lie and I think they all look a bit like big-headed aliens. Instead, I will find a positive aspect and focus on that, leaving out the rest. I know- I’m awful. Whatever. At least I won’t lie.
But then I found that some of these people had not finished reading the book. Sure, I like to finish a book as quickly as possible, but especially for the non-aggressive readers, or the seldom ever readers, this is acceptable. At least they have let me know their intentions. I appreciate that. At least one of these turned out to be excited to read the sequel and get back into reading.
I also found that some are reading and enjoying the book, but just haven’t bothered to tell me. I know this because I overheard a friend telling someone else what a good book I had written, but she never mentioned her thoughts to my face. Could be she forgot. Could be it’s awkward for the friend as well. Could be my friends don’t know if it will make me feel awkward, or a gazillion other weird possibilities. Mostly, I think it’s just unclear what the proper etiquette should be between an author and her friends. I know I’ve supported other writer friends because I understand the need, but maybe some are just shy about it. Whatever it is, I’ll keep on plugging and hope I don’t have to hold any babies.
Drumroll… *insert horrible noises made by the Griswolds in Christmas Vacation here*
Drew’s new cover. Judge away.
When Sydney Schake, the cover’s wonderful artist, and I brainstormed the original book’s cover for Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages and I then saw her interpretation, I was thrilled. The second book’s cover has pleased me every bit as much, and I owe her my thanks and gratitude. She is also threatening to continue making some changes (artists!), so this may not be the final version, but I like it.
I wanted the feel of the covers to be similar since this is now a book series. They had to match each other, yet reflect the personality of each book as a separate entity. Once again, it models the paper bag book covers that were so common in the days when I was Drew’s age. The doodles, scribbles, and scrawls take me back to that time and each is somehow featured through words within the book’s pages.
Having this artwork brings me that much closer to the release of Drew’s freshman, or “Fresh meat” year. I’m excited to share.
The book is set to release May 30 through Amazon as both an ebook, and trade paperback. I’m just finalizng the details now.
The May/June issue of Writer’s Digest is dedicated to those who write for children and teens, so I did my ill-coordinated happy dance when it arrived and jumped right in. According to what I read, I’m right on the mark where I need to be, and since Writer’s Digest says I’m doing well, I’m certain others will soon figure this out about me too, and I’ll become a rich indie author.
Ok, but I am where I need to be, I think.
I felt like my book was homeless when I finished it, which is part of why I decided to forgo all the jumping through hoops in search of an agent who would then search for a publisher. I figured my story didn’t really fit anywhere well, so it would have to do as I have always done, and non-conform, see who might pick up on it anyway. But as it turns out, my book does fit as a piece of Middle-Grade literature. Between that and Young Adult fiction, my story Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages falls into the middle, Middle-Grade that is. Yet somehow most of the readers I know of have been adults, and not necessarily all even female. I guess I’ve told a timeless, possibly genderless, story. We’ve all gone through the tortures of middle school, right? Also, I don’t often get feedback from that age group because they don’t really do that. I need to enlist the gatekeepers, their parents, teachers, aunts… My book fills the criteria properly, but I still need to reach them.
But even after checking on my word count and the appropriateness of my characters and content, I felt pleased. But what of my soon-to-be-released sequel? My middle schooler protagonist is moving up to high school, my word count is increasing, and some more serious issues will arise, though Drew always tries to keep it light. So, now my series is moving into the Young Adult world. Will that make it hard to categorize my series? It’s moving from one age group to another. I guess I hoped my readers could grow along with Drew, but is it an awkward change? Is my book series going through puberty? Is that even allowed? J.K. Rowling got away with it as everyone read about Harry and his buddies as they grew up. This worked well for her, so here’s hoping (I would cross my fingers, but I already type slowly)
I plan to launch my sequel at the end of May. I’m both excited and want to throw up. I had no idea what I was doing the first time I self published my book, but now I’ve done a little more research and publicity, though all the free kind. Last time, I put the book on Kindle and then started telling people about it here and there. This time I’m planning to shout it from as many rooftops (social media) as possible ahead of time, and to enlist my friends and fans to help.
I’m proud of my sequel. My writing and content have matured and it’s more polished. I also think Drew, my semi-autobiographical protagonist, is a fun, interesting character. In the same Writer’s Digest issue, I also read an article by Jacquelyn Mitchard on “Standout Series Characters” and I think Drew fits this concept:
“One of the most important characteristics of a character who’ll become part of a teen or a kid’s life for several years has a simple, relatable likability.”
Of course, I also read this gem about the fine balance of writing a sequel, a tedious task:
“One of the most difficult things in the word world is to write the second book in a series. The challenge for a good writer is finding the balance– appealing to the reader who’s meeting these characters for the first time and making sure the reader who knows the character already isn’t utterly bored.”
I think I got it right, and soon readers will be able to confirm this for me.
It’s spring, which means here in Florida, it’s pretty much summer from now until October. In honor of the season and because I am fortunate enough to live within a few miles of the ocean, I offer a happy, sunny poem I wrote back in 1996.
dreamsresortsblog.com
Bare Feet
Bare feet in the sand,
with children running hand-in-hand.
Laughs and silly giggles.
Oh, how that foam does tickle!
And the scent of the salt air,
clings softly to sun-bleached hair.
There are castles made of sand;
so proudly they stand,
in the glory of the sun…
the soothing warmth of the sun.
Terree L. Klaes 1996
caverns of my mind 