Comparison is the Death of Joy - Mark Twain

Now that I am well into the marketing aspect of my debut novel, I am reminded of Mark Twain's brilliant statement. 

Marketing, after all, is all about comparisons. How many Likes to I have? How many hits did I get? How many followers? How many views? Did I do better than the other guy? Worse?

Implicit in those plaintive queries of course, is the larger, more insidious question. Am I good enough?

If you're like me, you immediately gravitate toward the negative. You know the drill. The concept is dull, the writing is crap, and the final product is pure, unadulterated shite - or something to that effect.

For others, the opposite is true. They see themselves as the next Tolstoy, Hemingway or Monroe. Reality, when it strikes, is a bitter pill for these deluded souls.

Whether negative or positive, judging yourself is a no-win situation. You will always come up short.

We all know what self-judgment sounds like...

"You'll couldn't write your way out of a paper bag, ya hack." 

"A kid in grade one paints better than you ever could." 

"Your singing sounds like a strangled cat."

"It doesn't matter how great you are, you'll never get as many views as the latest mommy porn writer. You'll always be average."

We also know what happens when we listen to that nasty little voice. We don't even try. We shut down our creativity for fear of coming up short, of being laughed at, of failing. 

And, as I head into the marketing phase, I am going to do my best to follow through on all the tasks I'm given by my marketing team. I'll keep my author website current, attend writing conferences as needed, and participate in author forums, etc. Whatever they ask, I'll do it. 

What I won't do, is watch the numbers. Simon and Schuster can worry about that. Whether my book sells fifty thousand copies or five hundred is irrelevant to me, and always has been.

My goal in writing this book was to put my ideas on paper, and to improve as a writer. I have succeeded on both counts - far beyond my wildest dreams. 

And I know that if I want to continue along this joyous path, then I must be vigilant against comparing myself to others. 

There will always be those who are worse, and those who are better. 

I'm okay with that.

I'm content as I am...happily messing about with my stories.

Feeling good. 

 

 

 





 

 




 

 


 



  

Kinky Sex: A Dumpy Dilemma

Last week, my publisher at Simon & Schuster asked if I would agree to participate in the International Festival of Authors digital festival on Wattpad. From October 1st to the 23rd, Wattpad will be showcasing one author per day. Other participants include Margaret Atwood and Vincent Lam. 

Of course, I said a great big YES!

My big day will be October 20.

Here comes the dilemma. My publicist at S & S suggested that I not use an excerpt taken directly from the book. She said readers respond better to stand-alone pieces - a snippet of back story, an unrelated short story featuring the main character, or a scene that didn't make the final cut.

No problem, I thought. I left almost as many words on the cutting floor as wound up in the manuscript. I just had to find something that tickled my fancy. I sifted through a realms of material, sorting it into yes, no and maybe piles. Then I flipped through it all again, and kept coming back to one particular scene.

It was a sex scene between Signy and her bad-boy ex boyfriend, Zef. It didn't make the final cut because I just couldn't make the time lines fit. Perfect, I thought - I'll dust off the old chestnut, update the writing and submit it.

Problem is, in the course of re-writing, I found the sex between Signy and Zef was getting kinkier and kinkier. I didn't mean it to - nor was I being gratuitous - it just evolved that way. I understand Signy much better than I did when I first wrote the scene, and I have no doubt that she would use sex as a tool to regain balance in her life. And in this scene - she does just that. It is raw, unfettered, and definitely R rated.

I stayed far away from throbbing pistons and womanly flowers. I have no hard bits being overtly inserted into any soft pieces. I tried to focus on sights, smells, touch, sounds, and made liberal use of metaphor.

That being said - it is still pretty damned hard-core.
 
I emailed my publicist telling her what I'd prepared, and suggested that maybe we should go with an excerpt from the book instead. Blown Red is a thriller after all - not an erotic novel - wouldn't a rough sex scene be false advertising? In addition, this would be my first ever attempt at erotica - a difficult enough genre for a skilled writer. In the hands of a novice, the portrayal of sexual encounter can be positively cringe-worthy.

Not to mention that there are 34 million members on Wattpad! Can you spell H.U.M.I.L.I.A.T.I.O.N?

I was certain the publicist would agree with me.

No such luck. She wrote back to say that on Wattpad, kinky sex is big draw. She told me to keep plugging along (no pun intended)

I can't even post it under an assumed name!



Gaaack!!


What to do? What to do?


I would appreciate any advice!

Why Dumpy Grace?

Why 'Dumpy' Grace?

I've answered this question before but it still comes up, often accompanied by the usual admonishments that I should not be so hard on myself, so I thought I'd take another crack at clearing things up.

Dumpy Grace was born on a day when I was feeling more than a little irritated at work. A straw had just landed on the camel's back, and long story short, resulted in me radically changing my life. Unable to vent my feelings, I picked up a pencil and doodled this stormy little figure on a scrap piece of paper.

Looking at her, I felt instantly better. Her scowling face and droopy boobs made me laugh. Her plump physique, as wide as she was tall felt right. She was a little portly, a tad stout, somewhat disheveled.

On limp legs, she forced herself to move forward. Angry, but without fists. Dragged over the coals, yet undefeated. Deliberately dumpy. Grace, in the face of adversity.

She was what I aspired to be...
 
...and her name was obvious.

The ARCs have arrived!

      The advanced reading copies of Blown Red are finally here!!

I'm getting super excited to them in bookstores and I hope you are, too!

Publication date is January 6, 2015. 

If you just can't wait, copies are now available for pre-order at Amazon.ca ; Indigo ; Kobo ; i-tunes ; or contact your favourite bookstore. : )

Please come and visit me at my new author website for more updates: susancphilpott.com

                        Looks like this is really happening!

Tales from Little Partridge Lake: Larry the Loon

Poor little Larry the Loon. For the first several weeks of his (or her) life, he was safely tucked between his gorgeous parents. A few weeks ago, his Dad took off for greener pastures - or bluer waters, as the case may be - leaving him in the loving wings of his devoted mother. The mother/chick pair were rarely apart - eating, sleeping, and just generally floating around together - day and night.

This morning, however, everything changed. Big Daddy-O flew in to reconnect with his lovely wife. After a heartwarming reunion and a little mutual fishing, the pair bid a fond farewell to Larry and took off into the great blue yonder. Sans Larry.

Apparently, that is the way it goes in the Loon world. The parents just up and go - leaving the chick to his or her own devices until he or she is able to fly. 

Larry is pretty close to taking wing. His flight feathers are almost in. I would imagine that within the next few days or weeks, Larry will make his inaugural flight. He'll flap his way over to a larger lake where he will hook up with a bunch of other hipster chicks. They'll hang out like a bunch of rowdy teens until it is time to fly south.

Poor Larry. He looks a tad forlorn out there on Little Partridge Lake all on his own. Good luck with those flight feathers, bird man! 

We'll be sad to see you go.

Life in Transition on Little Partridge Lake

I must admit I have not been writing as much as I should be lately. Spring arrived late at our new home on Little Partridge Lake and as summer approaches, the level of activity out on the lake has reached a fever pitch.

If you think Twitter and Facebook are distractions you should try a Common Loon vs. Canada Goose showdown out on the water. The geese won the battle, managing to save their five goslings from a vicious loon attack, but I'm afraid they lost the war. There has been no sign of the geese or their offspring for days.

On the beach, a red-winged blackbird and a tricky raven battle it out on a daily basis. The blackbird dive-bombs his much larger foe with a level of courage and derring-do that far outweighs his small size. Oddly, there are times when the mortal enemies walk together on our small beach, side by side, chatting amiably. These momentary ceasefires remind me of a cartoon sheepdog and coyote from my childhood. Those two foes waged bloody war only until five o'clock in the afternoon after which they punched the clock and went out for a drinks together.

Faced with that level of drama I find it next to impossible to drag myself back into the gray office and sit down at the computer.

Signy Shepherd will have to wait.














 Meanwhile....I've been exploring the lake. A natural transition zone occurs where the water meets the land. Along this magical boundary species from both the wooded forest and the aquatic environment abound.  Join me over the next few weeks as I encounter some truly amazing creatures.

 

Let's begin with some cool plant life.

Dotting the edges of the small lake are bog-like fens.
Fens are dominated by grasses and sedges and have a high diversity of other plant species...










...including these lovely wild irises.

On a healthy fen, carnivorous plants wait patiently for their next meal.


Just offshore, I found many spectacular examples of carnivorous pitcher plants. Check out this dangerous flower.







 Unfortunate insects, attracted by the flashy colours and musty smell of the flower head down the curled leaves, become stuck in the sticky interior and are digested by the plant.

Ugh.  Nasty way to die.



Hmmm....

Perhaps one of my villains might suffer a similar fate...?


Life and death in the transition zone.


Food for thought.