Category: Blog

Why I’m Against Butt-in-Chair, Hands-on-Keyboard

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

I caught Isabel mid-yawn on this one. What I get for disturbing the cozy winter’s nap with my photo-taking. She – like all cats – is the poster child for this week’s topic, which is balancing writing with physical and emotional health. There’s a catchphrase that writers like to pass around, about maintaining productivity: BICHOK, or Butt-in-Chair, Hands-on-Keyboard. I get that it’s a metaphor, meaning that you get writing done by actually writing, but it’s one I quibble with because I’m so against the sitting-down part. Come on over to find out more. 

The Problem with Short-Term Thinking in Book Marketing

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

I’m getting serious about regular yoga practice lately. My lovely stepdaughter and son-in-law gave me a gift certificate for Christmas to 6pm.com, where I was able to get all kinds of great yoga clothes for not much money! This is the pic I took for them to show my loot. I’m excited because I’ve found a yoga studio I really like with a wide variety of classes at times that work for me. I went twice right after Christmas, then got this obnoxious flu. I’m finally feeling back up to full strength so I’m revved to attend regularly and build a steady practice. I’ve been doing variants of yoga along with other martial training for more than twenty years, but never really devoted myself to yoga. Now’s the time!

Yoga is one of those practices that require long-term commitment. The results come gradually, with diligence and consistency. I’m looking at it as something to do to maintain my body as it ages. Thinking long term like this requires a different perspective. I’m not trying to lose fifteen pounds in the next six months so much (though I am), as wanting to regain flexibility and retain elasticity and strength as an aging body moves away from those things. It’s much the same as I’ve approached my writing career, which I’ve always viewed as a long game.

That includes marketing.

Marketing has been on my mind lately. I did a post about this at the SFF Seven a bit ago. And last week I was on a panel about productivity as a writer for LERA, my local RWA chapter, and one question people asked was where in my schedule I fit in marketing. It’s not that I don’t accept marketing as a reality of being a career author. I worry that it gets too much attention from authors, especially in the short term.

When I started out with my first books, I received the advice that the best, most effective method for marketing my book was to write the next book. A lot of people get this advice. It’s really good advice. I’d only amend to say, “concentrate on writing the next book and try to make it even better than the previous one.”

See, the problem I have with a lot of today’s focus on marketing is that authors seems to get very focused on promoting THAT book or THAT series. They work hard to get a better Amazon ranking, to get more reviews, to get a bestseller status that they can put under their email signature or website banner. All of these things make nicely tangible milestones. It’s easy to know if you did it or not, so they’re seductive for that reason. It’s much more difficult to quantify the longer-term goals of gaining a devoted readership or improving your reputation in the genre. 

Still, those longer-term goals are the ones that matter. For example, having a book hit the USA Today (USAT) Bestseller list should be an indication that enough readers anticipated and loved the book that they bought the book during a certain amount of time. It’s a terrific measure of a dedicated fan base. But a lot of short-term marketing efforts these days go into getting on that list – joining in box sets with other authors and pouring on promotional money in order to get that badge of honor. The argument is that an author being able to call themselves a USAT Bestselling Author will sell more books. 

But will it?

Maybe?

Still, it’s no longer a measure of that long-term goal of having a dedicated reader base. It’s a reflection of a short-term promotional effort. The reality is, unless an author is writing books that readers love, it doesn’t matter what’s on their website banner or under their email signature. Word of mouth and reader recommendation is still the primary way people find new books. It’s how I find new books. 

This is why writing the next book – and trying to improve on the previous book – is the key to the long game. I get that it can feel critical to launch a debut book well, or to get that series off the ground, but winning readers who will put you on their autobuy list for the next twenty years is what will allow you to be a career author, to make a consistent income from both your back- and front-list. Making money or a USAT Bestseller badge off of one book – or even one series – won’t. 

Just like my losing 15 pounds by summer won’t ensure my long-term health. A lot of planning and gradual improvement will go into how my body will perform thirty years from now – and the same is true of my writing career. 

Both are about the long game. 

Can You Spot the Tertiary Character in This Novel?

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

I gave the man an aquarium for Christmas and Jackson finally discovered it has living creatures in it. He’s quite bemused by the concept. This is a still shot from the video I took. Our topic this week at the SFF Seven is tertiary characters who demand the spotlight. Come on over to find out  more – and to see the video!

Phoenix Unbound and Unveiled!

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

For those of you who might not have known, my lovely friend and sister author, Grace Draven, is coming out with a brand new series! She’s working with a traditional publisher (Penguin Random House) to put The Fallen Empire trilogy into the world. The first book PHOENIX UNBOUND will be out in September 2018 and can be preordered here.  

AND JUST LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS COVER!!! EEEEEE!

I’ve read the first few chapters and lemme tell you folks, it’s total catnip. You’re going to gobble this one up!

The blurb:

A woman with power over fire and illusion and an enslaved son of a chieftain battle a corrupt empire in this powerful and deeply emotional romantic fantasy from the USA TODAY bestselling author of Radiance.

Every year, each village is required to send a young woman to the Empire’s capital–her fate to be burned alive for the entertainment of the masses. For the last five years, one small village’s tithe has been the same woman. Gilene’s sacrifice protects all the other young women of her village, and her secret to staying alive lies with the magic only she possesses.

But this year is different.

Azarion, the Empire’s most famous gladiator, has somehow seen through her illusion–and is set on blackmailing Gilene into using her abilities to help him escape his life of slavery. And unknown to Gilene, he also wants to reclaim the birthright of his clan.

To protect her family and village, she will risk everything to return to the Empire–and burn once more.

Being a Career Writer: What to Focus On

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

I dug out this photo from last summer – at Epcot Center after the RWA conference and me all shiny from winning the RITA® Award. Sometimes that still feels as fantastical as my troll friend here.

Our topic this week at the SFF Seven is one writing/publishing-related skill we want to learn/improve on this year. I’m looking for recommendations on which authors write really good endings. Come on over!

Three Tips for Staying Grounded in a Crazy World

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

Happy New Year, everyone, and welcome to 2018!

I feel confident in putting this as a fait accompli, even though I’m writing this midday on 12/31/17 because I imagine most of you will be reading this in 2018, or as near to it as functionally doesn’t matter. I’m also confident that 2018 will arrive, which hasn’t always been the case.

It’s funny looking back at the turn of the millennium and thinking the whole banking/computer change from a two-digit year to a four-digit year was the worst thing that could happen… I look forward to the day when we can look back, shake our heads at the 2016 election, and trade our “where were you when you found out Trump was actually elected?” stories.

Until then, we do what we can to resist an increasingly authoritarian regime while still keeping our sanity. Thus, my take on this week’s topic at the SFF Seven: Keeping Your Sanity: 3 Things You Do To Stay Balanced/Grounded/In Control. Come on over!

Release Day for SINCE LAST CHRISTMAS!

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

Santa arrived just in time! The third Missed Connections book, SINCE LAST CHRISTMAS, made it out for Christmas!

(We could even call it a Christmas Miracle!)

Anyway, it’s out and available for… did I mention CHRISTMAS??

Hey, there’s a menorah joke in it, too. 

Buy the Book

KindleKoboSmashwords
 
A little excerpt for you all!
 
**********

With renewed determination, I wove through the crush looking for Brad. The whole point of bringing him was so I wouldn’t have to stand around alone. I’d brought him to be my arm candy. Men did it all the time, so I refused to feel bad about wanting the same. I craned my neck, looking for him. There he was, taking a group pic with some guys using the telescoping selfie-stick he kept in his jacket pocket like a ballpoint pen. The pocket-protector of the modern era—that fashion statement telegraphed social media aficionado. The guys held up their signature cocktails, identical smiles of white and even teeth, the flash strobing from flattering shadows to glaring bright reveal.

“Amy.” Jon Ahearn appeared in front of me, a serious smile on his stubbly face. And not stubbly in a hip statement way, but in an “I forgot to shave” way. Or maybe an “I didn’t bother to buy new razor blades” way. He, for one, had barely changed since our teens. I’d know him anywhere, though we only ever saw each other anymore at this party.

“Jon. Merry Christmas.” I gave him a light hug with lots of air in it, trying to look past him unobtrusively. They were trying another pose.

“How’ve you been?” Jon asked. “I mean,” he added, “you look fantastic. But then, you always do.”

“Thanks.” I gave up keeping an eye on Brad and focused a smile on Jon. I would not be like our ruder classmates, forever scanning for someone more important to talk to. Jon had been a scholarship student, too, only he’d been defiantly uncaring about it, wearing whatever and refusing to play any of the polite games. He was at Wildwood, he’d once told me, to get into MIT, and that was all he cared about. He’d done it, too, then went for graduate school at University of Chicago. “How’s grad school?” I asked politely. Then jumped as my phone chimed with notifications. I sipped more from my drink.

“A gauntlet from hell,” Jon confided, adding a rueful grimace. “Which is exactly how they intend it to be. Semester ended today, so I at least have teaching over with, except for the grading. I’m hoping to get some substantial work done on my dissertation over the break.”

“Hmm,” I said. He’d told me at a previous reunion party what he was working on. Last year or the one before. He worked on an intersection of math, physics, and engineering, something esoteric enough that I’d retained little of it. Perpetual motion and entropy… Nope. Wasn’t in my head, so I shouldn’t try or I’d butcher it. “That will be good.”

“How’s your job—ready for world domination yet?”

I smiled. “World domination through silk and cashmere, anyway, but yeah—working at Exposition Way is amazing and Adelina is even looking at my designs.”

“She’s smart then, because you’re really talented.”

“Thanks.” We gazed at each other and I was thinking up something else to ask when my phone chimed again. At least I didn’t jump that time.

“Do you need to get that?” Jon pointed his chin at my clutch, hanging from its silver chain against my hip. “Your phone.”

“No.” I should have silenced the damn thing. Flicking open the purse catch, I reached in and flipped the side switch to mute. “It’s just tags—Instagram, Facebook. You know.”

“Tags. Yeah. No.” He shook his head and I had to laugh.

“You’re still not doing social media? I can’t believe you’ve escaped its clutches entirely.”

“The secret is never looking at the stuff.” Then he tilted his head slightly and added a significant lift to his dark brows. “I never heard from you.”

Quite the transition, there. I searched my mind. Had I promised to call him or something? People ask me for job leads sometimes—fashion is all about who you know—but that wouldn’t be Jon. Besides, we didn’t have any contact outside of these semi-awkward annual reunions. Jon was part of a past I didn’t like to think about, and I’d thought he, if not delighted about that, at least had not objected.

He watched me flailing, not giving any more hints, a kind of benign resignation settling over his expression. Jon wasn’t unhandsome, once you got past the scruffiness, with curly black hair that tended toward unruly—especially as he never bothered to get a good haircut—and dark brown eyes, intense with intelligence. I felt a bit like a lab rat that failed to escape the maze. No cheese for you, I thought to myself grimly, and awarded myself a healthy swallow of the cocktail.

“You don’t remember,” he said. Not accusing, but stating a fact. He shook his head a little, as annoyed with himself as I’d been about my phone. Then he met my gaze again and, to my surprise—and you know I don’t like surprises—I saw anger in them. Jon was pissed at me and I had no idea why.

“So, what is it?” he asked in a measured tone that didn’t fool me. “Do you have some special pit in your head where you toss everything that has to do with me?”

**************

Need those buy links again? 

(ho ho ho!)

KindleKoboSmashwords
 

And all of you have a wonderful holiday season, whatever and however you celebrate!

The Formidable Four

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

This release week for AMID THE WINTER SNOW has been so fantastic, and it’s all because of you readers. Grace noted that two different reviews referred to us as “four formidable authors,” so now we feel like a superhero team. The Formidable Four!! I totally get to be the Jessica Jones wine-drinking, smart-assing one, right??

Anyway, we’ve been #1 all week in Fantasy Anthologies and Short Stories, except for brief excursions when a book with a BookBub ads bumps us for a time. We’re so delighted and gratified. 

I’m winding up my excerpts and mini-reviews with this one from Elizabeth Hunter’s story, The Storm! 

I’ve loved Elizabeth’s Irin world since I read THE SCRIBE. Her stories are deeply felt and complex battles between fallen angels, and span centuries. In The Storm, her steadfast hero finally tracks his love down in her last hiding place. I love the snowbound house high in the mountains, and how he insists she see him clearly – and face the old pain that’s blinded her. It’s a lovely story of the dark night of the soul and ultimate redemption. 

Buy the Book

KindleBarnes & NobleGoogle PlayiBooksKoboSmashwords

 

*****************

Max returned from the caves while she was reading a book by the fire.

“There is food set out in the kitchen,” she said quietly, not looking up.

“Thank you.” He didn’t go to the kitchen. He crossed the living room and sprawled on the couch, forcing his head into her lap. “That library must have been remarkable.”

She put her book down, knowing he took pleasure in distracting her. “It was.”

“Has no one come back in over two hundred years? No one even came looking for the scrolls?”

“Maybe.” She combed her fingers through Max’s thick blond hair. It was wavy—almost curly—and shone gold in the firelight. “I didn’t return to this place for over one hundred years. Someone might have been back before that, but they would have seen everything gone.”

“Not everything.” He grabbed her hand. Kissed her palm. “I can still feel so much joy in that place. The magic in the walls is still vibrant.”

Renata closed her hand, curling her fingers into her palm. “I only feel pain. Loss.”

“There are both. Pain and joy. That is life. There’s something in the tunnels I want you to—”

“Don’t make me go back there.” She sighed. “Max, I know I can’t get rid of you, but can you just…”

“What?”

“Let me be.” She closed her eyes. “Just let me be. Ignore me. You are welcome to stay here and rest. Explore the library as much as you want. Eat my food. But let me be. If you need to, pretend I’m not here.”

He nipped the heel of her hand with his teeth. “Well, that would be idiotic.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t come here for a quiet mountain getaway, Reni. I didn’t come to explore a library. I came for you.”

Excerpt from Thea Harrison

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

Another excerpt today! This time from Thea Harrison.

I loved this story for all the reasons I love Thea’s stuff. Great hero, with his gruff exterior and tender heart, his noble striving to do the right thing. And Lily is a wonderful heroine. Smart and determined, also striving to do the right thing. I love how she exercises her powers and surprises him with her abilities. I would have eaten up their story as a novel, frankly, but I loved it at this length, too. 

_________________________

“You might as well order an early supper,” Wulfgar said to Gordon. “Have Jada bring two plates for the priestess and me. I want you to prepare quarters for her. After we eat, we’ll get her settled for the night. I want her close by.”

Once again, he was disposing of Lily as if she were a possession. Frowning, she opened her mouth, but Gordon spoke first.

“Shall I prepare my tent?” he asked. “Since it’s beside yours, it would be easy enough for the guards to keep watch over her as well. I can make a pallet for myself in here, if that would suffice. Or, if you would prefer, I’m sure Jermaine will be amenable if I bunk with him. You’ll have to send for me if you want something.”

“Go ahead and bunk with Jermaine,” Wulfgar told him. “Once supper arrives, I won’t need your services until morning. And be sure to add another brazier and plenty of fuel to your tent. Extra bedding as well.”

“Very good, sir.” Bowing his head, Gordon slipped out.

Sucking a tooth sourly, Lily contemplated the contents in her goblet. When Wulfgar turned to her, she could feel his attention, almost as if it were a physical touch.

“Now what does that expression imply?” He sounded amused.

She took a sip, more to procrastinate for a few moments than from any real desire to drink. She knew what Margot would do—Margot would fume at the preemptory treatment and probably start another argument, but that didn’t seem productive.

The warm wine was an explosion of flavor, spiced with cinnamon, cloves, and orange. After she swallowed, she said cautiously, “I’m not used to being talked about as if I’m not in the room, or disposed of like a… a trunk full of books. But I’m also not experienced at being a liaison for anybody, so…”

“Point taken. Next time I’ll include you in the discussion.” He took a seat, letting his long legs sprawl, and drank wine. “What do you see your role as?”

She shrugged. “I’m not a servant, but I’m not an official ambassador either. I— We— Basically Margot told me to try to behave myself and explain anything you needed to have explained.”

“And assess my camp. Assess me.” His gaze was penetrating. She felt as she had back on the dock, that he was taking in every detail about her and probably seeing more than she wanted him to see. That thought brought a wash of warmth to her face.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“So… assess me.” He gestured at the empty seat across from him. “What do you see?”

Moving to take the seat, she studied him. The black linen shirt revealed the strong, clean lines of his throat and the swell of muscle at the top of his pectoral. Even in such a relaxed pose he conquered the space, the tip of his boots almost reaching hers. His dark hair fell on his forehead, giving his hard features a somewhat boyish look.

No, that wasn’t the right word. There was nothing boyish about the dangerous man lounging so casually across from her.

Roguish. That was the word. The disheveled hair seemed to bely the discipline he had shown so far. He was amused by her.

She said, “You carry a great deal of rage, and you’re driven to accomplish what you have set out to do. It couldn’t wait until the spring—you needed to take action immediately. You won’t turn back or turn aside. But you’re disciplined about it, and despite your anger you’re thinking about the welfare of your men. From what little I’ve seen, you have a code that you are determined to live by, at least when you can. I haven’t seen enough of you to know what might happen to that code when you’re under duress.”

As she spoke, the roguish gleam in his gaze faded, and she fell silent, suddenly uncertain. Maybe she had read him wrong. Maybe he hadn’t really wanted to hear what she thought. But if he hadn’t, then why had he asked her?

She wanted to flail. She was no good in any social situation.

“Don’t stop now.” He tossed back the last of the wine in his goblet. “You just got started.”

So that meant he truly did want to hear the rest of it. Right?

Biting her lip, she continued. “You’re not above seizing every opportunity that comes your way, and you never stop thinking about how to turn things to your advantage. You’re a strategist. I’m no good at strategy, so I would be wary of playing chess with you because you’re always thinking four steps ahead. Your words carried a ring of truth when you said you did not kill the lord of Braugne. You haven’t said specifically who you believe did, but it is clear you see the king of Guerlan as your antagonist, so naturally there are inferences to be drawn. And yet this campaign of yours is about so much more than just avenging your lord’s death. You have the soul of a conqueror.” She hesitated, and then made herself say the rest of it. “I don’t think you will rest until you have taken all of Ys under your rule.”

As she finished, he watched her with the same hard, grim expression he had worn on the barge. Unpredictable. Uncompromising. The wolf in his psyche watched her as well, tension in its figure as if it were about to pounce.

He said in a soft, even voice, “That was unexpected.”

_________________________

Copyright © Teddy Harrison LLC

All rights reserved