The following is an excerpt from the book Dead Connection
by Alafair Burke
Published by Henry Holt and Company, LLC; July 2007;$19.95US/$24.95CAN; 978-0-8050-7785-8
Copyright © 2007 Alafair Burke

1

The man’s first look at the newspaper item was a casual one, followed immediately by a more deliberate perusal. But it was the photograph accompanying the story that had him transfixed.

Caroline Hunter had preoccupied his thoughts in recent weeks, but this was his first opportunity to reflect on her appearance. To his surprise, she reminded him of a girl he had worked hard not to think about for a very long time. So proud. So uppity. Caroline Hunter had the look of a woman convinced of her own intelligence, a woman who assumed she could do whatever she wanted — get whatever she wanted — without any repercussions.

The man wondered if Caroline Hunter had any regrets as those two bullets tore through her body. Maybe for some women it took dying in the street like a dog to reflect upon one’s decisions and the effects they have on others. He felt his muscles tense, crumpling the pages of newsprint in his hands.

Then he placed the paper neatly onto the breakfast table, took another sip of tea, and looked down at the muted traffic in the street below the window. He smiled. Fate was presenting him an even more promising opportunity than he had understood when he first spotted the article. Details remained to be worked out, but he was certain of one thing: Caroline Hunter was only the beginning. There would be more stories, just like this one, about women just like her.

Three hundred and sixty-four days later, Amy Davis finished a second glass of red wine, pondering which excuse she should exploit to call it a night. She should have known better than to agree to a first date that started at eleven o’clock. Even by New York City standards, such a late invitation was an unequivocal sign that the guy wanted to avoid the cost of dinner but leave open the possibility of a spontaneous one-nighter.

But then the guy — he claimed his name was Brad — had suggested meeting at Angel’s Share, not one of the usual meat markets. Amy still thought of the cozy lounge as her secret oasis, tucked so discreetly inside a second-floor dive Japanese restaurant on Stuyvesant Street. She decided to take Brad’s awareness of the place as a sign. Then she looked out her apartment window and saw the snow, the first of the season. To Amy, the first flakes of winter were magical, almost spiritual. Watching them fall to the quiet square of grass beneath the oversized bay windows at Angel’s Share would be fantastic, much more satisfying than observing them from the fire escape of her fifth-floor Avenue C walk-up.

And so Amy had taken a risk. None of the previous risks had panned out, but that didn’t mean that Brad wouldn’t. Besides, all she had to lose was another night at home with Chowhound the persian cat, falling asleep to the muted glow of her television. Three weeks earlier, she had committed herself to this process, and nights like this were the price she would have to pay if she were ever going to find The One.

She knew the date was a mistake precisely one second after she heard the voice behind her at the bar’s entrance. “Are you Amy?” It was a nice voice. Deep, but not brusque. Friendly, but calm. For exactly one second, she was optimistic. For that one second, she believed that Brad with the good voice, who was familiar with Angel’s Share, whose first date with her fell with the first snow, might just make a good companion for the evening, if not more.

Then the second passed, and she turned to meet the man who went with the voice. The truth was, Amy did not care about looks. People said that all the time, but Amy actually meant it. Her ex-boyfriend — perhaps he had never become a boyfriend, but the man she’d most recently dated — had been handsome as hell, but by the time they were through, she found him repulsive. This time, she was putting looks aside to focus on the qualities that counted.

Brad’s face was not unattractive, but neither was it familiar — a surprise to Amy since they had exchanged multiple pictures over the last week. Internet daters posted photographs, so, even though Amy did not particularly care, she looked. It was nice, after all, to have a visual image to go with the instant messages and e-mails. This face in front of her, however, did not match the image she’d carried.

As Brad squeezed through a small group of people to ask the host for a table, she mentally shuffled through the pictures he’d sent and realized that in most, his face had been obscured — sunglasses on both the fishing boat and the ski slopes, a hat on the golf course, a darkened dinner table at some black tie event. One head shot had been pretty clear, but even a toad could eke out one good picture. In retrospect, she realized she had used that one good picture to fill in the blanks on the rest.

Once they were seated, Amy tried to put her finger on precisely what was different. The face was puffier. Older, too. In fact, Brad looked much older than the thirty-eight years he claimed in his profile. Sure, she might have shaved off a couple of years herself, but she was talking much older in his case. She realized there was no point in getting bogged down in the differences. He looked completely different than she had envisioned, and that was that.

By the end of the first glass of wine, she knew it wasn’t just Brad’s face that didn’t match up to his online counterpart. According to Brad’s profile, he was a gourmand and a red wine junkie. She allowed him to order first, afraid she might embarrass herself with a passé selection. After he requested a cheap Merlot mass-produced in California, she proceeded to ask for a Barbera d’Asti. If Brad was going to lie, then she was going to rack up Piedmont prices on his tab.
Read the rest of this entry »

Excerpt
The following is an excerpt from the book History Lesson for Girls
by Aurelie Sheehan
Published by Penguin; June 2007;$14.00US/$17.50CAN; 978-0-14-311190-0
Copyright © 2006 Aurelie Sheehan

Chapter One

One Day I saw them, our dream horses, and on that day I pulled over to the side of the road and cried. There they were, Appaloosas and roans and bays, and I thought I saw, squinting into the last bit of sunlight, a gray. All the horses moved together, a makeshift herd — maybe they’d heard my car, or maybe it was a chill, the first winter breeze, almost imperceptible on a summer day. So many years later and now here they were in front of me. The horses trembled, shifted, and then became calm and separated out again, twelve or twenty of them, more than enough for the Alison and Kate Horse Training Company.

She saved me. That’s the first thing you should know about Kate. It was the year we moved to Weston, the year my parents went haywire, the year my back started curving out of control as if it were the life of the party. She was five feet seven and had long brown hair bleached by the sun, and her father was an Egyptian emperor. Was he for real? Real enough for a small suburban dynasty. Real enough to pass on a legacy.

I think of Kate all the time. I think of her like I’ve got this little silver Egyptian cat in my pocket, a little silver talisman that won’t go away. I think of her, and then I think of him, too, Tut Hamilton, sham shaman in suburbia. I can’t forget him, any more than I can forget her.

The thing is, she saved me that year, and then it was my turn. That’s what friendship is. That’s how to make history.

I was thirteen when my parents and I moved to the fancy town of Weston from maligned and honorable Norwalk, two towns over. We were ready for anything, ready for the good things to start happening, and the first thing that went wrong was the blue room.

Mom wanted her studio to be blue, despite the fact that most painters prefer a room absent of color, a blank wall, a clean palette. She’d had a vision, you see, a dream of a blue room.

My father offered to paint the room for her, but she would choose the color, of course. She and I went to the paint store together.

“These men — they’re painting the world, creating color wheels, color contrasts, color inspirations — without any real conception, no awareness at all, of what they’re doing. They could be artists — but no, no — instead of using these glorious choices — all the glory, all the opportunity, Alison — they just sit around drinking coffee out of a thermos and painting houses tan, tan, and tan again. How dreary . . . ”

She continued talking as we got out of our Corolla (it also happened to be tan) and walked the short distance from the parking lot to the shopping center. I did hope she’d stop, or at least lower her voice, before we got to the store. She had a way of causing a commotion, despite her size. She was a tiny, fragile person, swathed in scarves and perfumes and charms.

Men of uncertain age and weight looked our way as we came in: Scheherazade and the too tall, too bony, too elbowy stalk, in a back brace, beside her.

My mother breezed by their troubling, huntery expressions, and we settled in before the paint chips. I’d just turned thirteen, my back was curved, and my parents were curved, too — bohemians in Connecticut, the Land of Plenty. Either all the colors looked good to me or none of them did. Somehow it seemed that this, like everything else, could go either way.

Mom, however, was confident. She hummed with satisfaction, picking out various small, hopeful cards from the rack, cocking her head, pursing her lips — rejecting one, then the other, until she came to her blue.
Read the rest of this entry »

The following is an excerpt from the book:
No Experts Needed: The Meaning of Life According to You!
by Louise Lewis
Published by iUniverse, Inc.
May 2007;$18.95US
978-0-595-42971-4
Copyright © 2007 Louise Lewis

I have always believed that everyone has a book in them. They merely have to take a look at their lives, past or present, to realize that life is indeed stranger than fiction. More likely than not, everyone’s lives would make for quite an entertaining story, to say the least.

Now I’m not saying that I think everyone’s book would be worthy of a Pulitzer or be chosen for Oprah’s Book Club. You’re holding the evidence to back up that statement on both accounts. But I do think there is something special and unique about each of our lives that should be written down and then shared with others. Having said all of that, I was totally unaware of the book that was lurking deep inside of me. I discovered it (or rather it discovered me) when I unexpectedly began a new chapter in my life.

The story I’m sharing with you began when I was set free (laid off) from my job of eleven years selling advertising space for publications in high tech. Being set free simultaneously marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. From day one of this new chapter, many truths were revealed to me. For instance, I immediately interpreted being set free from my job as something positive from which I would later benefit, rather than something negative that I would be challenged to overcome. Even though it would’ve been easy to panic about no longer having a source of income, I chose not to waste any energy thinking about the negative aspect of the situation.

Another truth that revealed itself was the knowledge that I was supposed to take advantage of the rare opportunity of having some time off. Therefore, I didn’t immediately start looking for another job. Granted, with no source of income, this was an odd decision to make. However, I had worked nonstop since the age of sixteen, and I felt that I deserved some time away from the rat race. That was my story, and I faithfully stuck to it.

Adding to the list of truths was the fact that I knew, without a doubt, that whatever I experienced during this new chapter of my life would have a profound and lasting effect on my future. Without knowing how or why, I was very aware from the start that I was being lovingly, divinely guided toward something special.
The last of my truths was knowing that the significance of the choices I would make during my new chapter would be revealed to me one at a time, and only when I was in the moment - not a minute sooner.

Armed with these truths, I not only felt excited but also well prepared to begin my new chapter. But no matter how ready I felt, I was acutely aware of the fact that if this indeed was a new chapter, nothing but blank pages stared me in the face. Where was I to begin?

After a bit of soul-searching, the one thing I knew for certain was that I wanted my new chapter in life to be based on a commitment to living in Spirit, rather than in Ego.

As I see it, the ego houses the more base elements of human nature, for example, fear, self-doubt, criticism, control issues, and selfishness that if left unchecked, will create negative energy in my life. On the flip side, when my life is focused on Spirit, the ultimate Source of truth, I am guided by more positive elements, such as courage, forgiveness, compassion and generosity.

Therefore, the first step of my journey involved making a commitment to allow Spirit to guide my every move and to let nothing stand in the way of that. I was convinced that by following Spirit, the pages of my new chapter would be filled with a very special story, one that would involve adventure, personal growth, and a change in lifestyle.

As my new chapter developed, my path crossed with those of many wonderful people — normal, everyday folks whom I met during my travels, as well as in my own backyard. I listened to their stories along the way. After each encounter, I asked these people (along with family and friends) for a gift. I asked everyone to answer one question: what is the meaning of life?

I also insisted that each person provide a spontaneous answer. In other words, he or she had to write the answer right then and there, while in my presence. Why did I insist on this? To answer that question, I have to adapt the saying “God lives in the details.” My version goes something like this: I believe that God (the ultimate truth) lives in the spontaneous moment. In other words, I believe that what you know to be true can be communicated in the moment, right now, without long deliberation or second-guessing. And you certainly don’t need an expert to tell you what you already know.

Not surprisingly, the overwhelming majority of people I met agreed to join in on the adventure of my book. And I walked away from this journey with my heart filled with memorable gifts that will reward me until the end of my days.

Writing this book has been a personal journey for me as well as for some of the people you are about to meet. Due to the personal nature of some of their stories, I am not divulging every detail out of respect for each person. However, I will share with you the fact that with each person I met, I was reminded that I was not alone.
With each meeting, I was reminded that no matter what their race, religion, or geography, people possess far more similarities than they do differences. When you think about it, we all eventually experience pretty much the same stuff that life dishes out: the same joys, the same pain, the same sorrow. Somehow, believing this allows me to walk through life with a greater sense of belonging in the world.
I will forever be grateful to the people I met along the way. Because of them, I’m more committed than ever to being a more curious participant in life, a more compassionate listener, and a more adamant believer in the saying “We are all alike.”

I know that I cannot change the whole world, but I most certainly can change my world by asking those around me to lay focus to the meaning in their life. Therefore, it is my sincere hope that this book ignites conscious thought so that more people can find their own answers to the meaning of life. With this hope in my heart, I invite you to begin your own journey of discovery, which may very well begin by you asking this question to those people who cross your path. You’ll be amazed by what you hear.

And so, the tale of my journey begins. Thank you for coming along!
Read the rest of this entry »

When someone asks why write? My answer — writing is like making love. When they ask how to write? Same answer. For each writer the act of writing is as individual as his/her own personality.

I write because I have to. I have to because I want to. I want to because I love it. When I was a journalist for the Hollywood Reporter magazine and Capital Style, I wrote my pieces in a smart-sassy magazine journalist’s voice. In my head, I was a cross between Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday and Dorothy Parker. But when I started to write my first novel — historical fiction set in Paris in the time of the Impressionists, I discovered I had to develop a new way of writing, a new “voice.” This voice was more lyrical, even poetic. I did read poetry to develop a capacity for metaphor. I read or re-visited classic novels written decades, even centuries ago to understand why they endure.

I feel presumptuous giving advice to writers on how to write. There are far better sources for that: E.M. Forester’s Aspects of the Novel is a classic and as useful today as when it was written in 1927. There are dozens of excellent how-to books for writers that outline the craft. Creating Unforgettable Characters by Linda Seger is helpful. Is writing a craft or an art? It’s both. To learn the mechanics of the craft, consult those manuals. To learn the art, consult your heart. I would like to share my experience writing my first novel and hope it resonates with other writers.

Inspiration. I believe the inspiration, the idea, for a book comes from the Universe. In my experience, my novel came to me as I was studying for an exam on the Impressionists for my class at Christie’s Education graduate program. For me, reading that art history textbook was as fascinating as reading a novel. Were there any novels about these people I wondered? In the year 2000, I didn’t know of any. I had seen clips of a film about Vincent Van Gogh starring Kirk Douglas. And of course, the musical Gigi loosely based on a story by Colette. But these were both Hollywoodized and set after the truly important years of 1860-1870.

Characters. My novel began with the characters. I knew it was important for my main characters to change as they experienced their lives. I wanted the heroine, in particular, to become a changed person at the end of the story from who she was in the beginning because that is true to real life. I wrote concise back-stories on index cards for each character so I would know where/when they were born, their parentage, their childhoods — all the factors that shaped them to become who they were in the novel. I didn’t use the back-story in the narrative, but the footprint was there between the lines.

Place and time. The more hours I spent at the library researching the history, the art, the politics, the changes in technology and social relations, the more at home I felt in that setting and knew I could transport others there with me. The number of reference books I read is prodigious. But I’m a nerd and love that aspect of writing. I worked as a library assistant in college and still feel in a safety cocoon in the musty stacks of a library.

Plot. Plot unfolds as life does — as a consequence of characters’ choices, actions and reactions. In my case, plot was also guided by history because historical fiction must be accurate at all costs on the “history” side. The fiction side can be pure fun. Writers are all a bit mad, I think, and I am no exception. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, hearing in my head the perfect dialogue between two of my characters for a scene. Of course, I got up and scribbled down some notes before falling back asleep.

Music true to the time period was helpful for me at some points in the narrative process. I deduced that listening to the music that my characters would have listened to in 1867 would help put me in their world. It was transgressive and I credit the verisimilitude of some emotional passages in the book to those waltzes of Strauss and Offenbach.

Polishing. Finally, the most enjoyable part of writing for me is rewriting. It feels like putting the final touches on a painting, adding highlights and correcting mistakes. I remember spending three hours changing the wording on just one paragraph. But what a paragraph it turned out to be!

Writer’s Block. For me, it doesn’t exist. If you have something to say, then write. If you don’t, go do something else. Come back when you do. Then you can write a heartbreakingly beautiful novel and experience the joy of those two little words . . .

The End.

© 2007 Debra Finerman

Debra Finerman attended Christie’s Graduate Program in Connoisseurship and the Art Market. Mademoiselle Victorine: A Novel (Published by Three Rivers Press. July 2007;$13.95US/$17.95CAN; 978-0-307-35283-5) is her first work of fiction after a career as a journalist in Los Angeles and Washington, D.C. She worked for The Hollywood Reporter Magazine, Beverly Hills Today, Beverly Hills Magazine and Capital Style. She currently lives in New York and Connecticut.

For more information, please visit www.debrafinerman.com or www.mademoisellevictorine.com

by Michael LaRocca

The big question. Do you submit directly to publishers, or do you find an agent who will do that for you? Based on anecdotal evidence I’ve heard, it can work either way. Many publishers refuse to read unagented submissions, but on the other hand Tom Clancy and John Grisham sold their first books without an agent.

The bottom line is, if a publisher reads what he can sell, he’ll buy it. It doesn’t matter if it comes from an author or an agent. The trick is getting him to read it. That’s always your focus.

Some people swear by agents because they’re the ones who will get you larger percentages and advances. I’ve decided I don’t care quite so much about that. In the case of a new author, I sincerely doubt that’ll happen anyway. Maybe later. I’d hate to lose my first sale because some greedy agent asked for too much money. Not that I believe that’ll happen either.

There are also those who swear by agents because many publishers won’t look at an “unsolicited manuscript.” That’s true enough. They ain’t got time. They’re using agents as a preliminary screening process. A good agent will also know which publishers are most likely to be interested in what YOU write.

Someone recommended that once you’ve selected some potential publishers, phone each one and ask how they would like to be approached. Ask to whom specifically you should address your work. Then you can honestly call it a “solicited manuscript.” (Always be honest in your correspondence.)

If this doesn’t work, because you can’t phone or the secretary refuses to cooperate and tells you things like “we only accept material from reputable literary agents,” then mail your query letter, bio, synopsis, and sample chapter. They can only say no, or they can say your query looks interesting and they want to see the rest of the manuscript.

If you hook a publisher this way, odds are the publisher will like for you to have an agent. So this is when you can call one, after you’ve hooked the publisher. The agent gets 15% for doing practically nothing, so he’ll take the job. The publisher will become more interested when your agent phones saying he’s (or she’s) looking after your interests in this matter.

The most important step is to get your presentation looking as professional as possible. No mistakes. None. Zero. Nada. The vast majority of rejections aren’t because the story is bad, but because the Acquisitions Editor concludes that it’ll be too much work to make it “ready to read.” With new authors, publishers usually lose money. Advertising, print inventory… don’t ask them to invest a great deal of editing time as well. They won’t do it. It’s just that simple.
Read the rest of this entry »

The following is an excerpt from the book I Heart My In-Laws
by Dina Koutas Poch
Published by Henry Holt and Company, LLC; June 2007;$15.00US/$18.95CAN; 978-0-8050-8279-1
Copyright © 2007 Dina Koutas Poch

Regional Guide to In-Laws

There are seven territories of in-law personalities in this great country of ours. Each has its own unique flavor.

1. West Coast In-Laws

(California, Oregon, Washington)

Three words: Burning Man Festival. Your in-laws live where Manifest Destiny carried them. They come from a long line of gold hunters — those in search of a truer, richer way of life. Every single Napa Valley wine they uncork, or Starbucks coffee they brew; or macrobiotic muffin they bake, they judge you for not living the way they do. “Oh, West Coast people are more laid back.” Really? They’re ultra-aggressive about lifestyle choices and the 40-hour workweek! How do you deal with your West Coast in-laws?

* Compliment their tan. Their sunglasses. Their shapely mountain-bike sculpted legs. They’ll eat it up (those egotists!). And coo when they mention how they fly seaplanes to their island house, and how the orca whales and “pristine wilderness” are their backyard. Blah, blah, blah. Make sure to note how very fresh the air is, even if it’s making your allergies act up.
* Read up on renewable energy resources: wind power, solar energy, and corn-powered cars. Tell them that you’re already on the waiting list for one (a waiting list made of recycled paper, no less).

How to dress: In flannel and Tevas with thick socks.
What not to do: Smoke cigarettes. Joints, however, are cool.

2. Rocky Mountain In-Laws

(Colorado, Montana, Idaho, Utah)

Your rugged in-laws know a thing or two about machinery. They can plow. They can drive a tractor. They can dig a deep hole with a backhoe (and I’m talking about Aunt Trudy on dialysis here). They can also wrangle sheep on a mountain without the help of a gay lover (no matter what that movie said). How do you impress in-laws that live in winter for nine months a year and are known to wrestle bears for sport?

* If your weenie job as an economics professor hasn’t prepared you for life with these in-laws, buying a picture book about tractors and trucks — something a five-year-old boy would drool over — will help. At least you’ll know your trenchers from your dozers and your grapple log skidders from your pipe layers.
* Pick an alpine sport: ice climbing, fly-fishing, kayaking, mountain climbing, trekking, snowshoeing, skiing, or mountain biking, and excel at it. It doesn’t matter if you live in Florida, you need to train so you can join your in-laws in death-defying “leisure sports” at high altitude (with no bleeping oxygen!).

How to dress: In jeans and a warm jacket, because you’ll be outside shoveling hay.
What not to do: Mention how your gay brother in Boston just got married and a drag queen performed the ceremony.

3. Southwestern In-Laws

(New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada)

There are two kinds of ex-hippie in-laws in the Southwest: those with boatloads of money and those with a jar of pennies. Figure out which one your in-law is. The former has a perfect golf swing, and the latter reliably has peyote.

When your Southwest in-laws hug you, they practically blind — the sun glints off their turquoise jewelry and belt buckles, sending signals miles into the sky. (Duh, that’s how the aliens found Roswell.)

Your in-laws are into spirituality with a capital S. Every inch of wall space is covered with pottery depictions of Kokopelli and watercolor drawings of pueblos and adobe homes in rust and muted orange hues. They subsist on roasted green chilies and yerba mate. They also don’t age. Is it the desert? The dry heat? Each time you see them, they’re younger. In fact, they’re twenty-five years old right now. It’s terrifying.

How do you ingratiate yourself with southwestern in-laws?

* Go hot-air ballooning with your in-laws! Everyone in the Southwest does it. How else do you pass the time in l00-degree heat? Remember, hot-air balloons aren’t just for Dorothy & Co. They’re for you, your in-laws, and nineteenth-century explorers.
* Vegas, baby! Anyone? Slot machines? Showgirls? People-watching? Shark tank at Mandalay Bay? (These are rhetorical questions. You don’t have to answer them.) But you may want to propose them to your in-laws, when they bust out the tarot cards — again. Hey, why don’t you use those tarot cards to predict some winning hands of blackjack? As they say in the movies, it’s just crazy enough to work, boss.

How to dress: A brightly patterned sundress and a necklace made of the largest beads known to man.
What not to do: Say you prefer modern art.

4. Texan In-Laws

Your Texan in-laws are smug about one thing: being Texan. We know you were once a republic! And everything’s bigger! Six flags, the Alamo, that 72-ounce steak, and especially the hats. Fine! Texas is big, “American,” flashy, and the center of the world.

If your Texan in-laws aren’t gorgeously well-manicured people from Houston or Dallas, or cultured Austinites, they’re ranchers and they don’t give a damn about you, “the en-vi-ro-mentalists,” and “the gov’nment.” After all, the rest of the world is just not Texas.

Of course, you’ll meet a second cousin-in-law that uses her panty hose to strain motor oil, but the rest of the family isn’t too proud of her. So how do you deal with the Texan in-laws?

* Accept that a lot of people you’ll meet in the Lone Star State will have nicknames like Joe-Bob, Billy-Bob, Jim-Bob, Little John, Big John, etc. You’ll be expected to know about their souped-up truck and new gun rack in intimate detail.
* Respect the laws of the Barcalounger. Your Texan in-laws don’t have normal chairs; they need something with a footrest. Succumb to the relaxation factor of holding conversations while horizontal.

How to dress: A “Don’t Mess with Texas” T-shirt with a Stetson hat, only because your in-laws gave them to you upon your arrival.
What not to do: Forget to send good wishes to your in-laws on Texan holidays like Texas Independence Day, the start of Deer Hunting Season, the Opening Day of high school football practice, and the day the new model year of Ford F-150s hits the market.

5. Southern In-Laws

(Arkansas, Louisiana to Florida, and up to Kentucky and Virginia)

Your in-laws love NASCAR. If they don’t, their neighbors do. Your southern in-laws are either “refined city folk” or “simple country folk,” and they’ll want you to know the difference.

Your southern in-laws are suspicious of you. It’s not just you — it’s anyone outside their state. Your in-laws have never been “North,” and by that, they mean Delaware. It’s not that they don’t want to go, just why would they? People have been in their town for generations. It’s home, which is why you should move there. When you’re south of the Mason-Dixon Line, do as those who live south of the Mason-Dixon Line . . .

* Learn the key players in “the Confederacy.” How many times have you met a southerner named Jefferson Davis? Billions? Every street, building, and public school is named after these folks: Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, Jeb Stuart, Alexander Stephens, P. T. Beauregard, or Nathan Bedford Forrest. But please never, ever mention the Destroyer-of-the-South, Yankee General Sherman. He’s still on their “list,” 150 years later.
* Talk the talk. Know southern sport rivalries and which side you’re on with the Tar Heels vs. Blue Devils, LSU vs. Ole Miss, and Tennessee Volunteers vs. Kentucky Wildcats.

How to dress: Something bright and feminine from your mother’s closet.
What not to do: Don’t call it the “Civil War.” It’s the “War of Northern Aggression.”

6. Northeast Corridor In-Laws

(Ohio, Pennsylvania, and up through Maine)

If you or anyone you’re related to went to a fancy school, now’s the time to mention it. New Englanders love to think “they know better” and that “they are smarter” and that they “vote correctly.” They can push up their dark-framed glasses and snub you with their “Plymouth Rock” crap.

The crowded cities and suburbs of Philadelphia, Washington, D.C., Cincinnati, New York, and Boston mean one thing — your in-laws are the diversity in America. They smother you with affection because a hundred other relatives live down the street.

* Join the rat race. You must keep up with the Joneses — the family that you can see from the bay window in your in-laws’ kitchen. Last week, the competition was about the house gutters. They won. This week it’s about you. Who has the sweetest daughter-in-law?
* Your northern in-laws have summer homes in non-warm places like Nantucket. What’s the point?

How to dress: Like you just fell out of the J. Crew catalog.
What not to do: Mention that you didn’t vote in the last election.

7. Midwest In-Laws

(Indiana to Missouri, up to North Dakota and Michigan)

If a giant, two-headed reptilian monster was heading toward your in-laws’ subdivision, they would smile and wave. Your in-laws are that friendly and nice. Sometimes it’s creepy. Like the time they offered a teenager a ride back to his college campus — it looked an awful lot like kidnapping.

Between the ice fishing, apple-pie baking, and dining at Perkins Restaurant and Bakery (which they nicknamed Pukins), your big-boned in-laws spend a lot of time driving (8 hours is short haul), using terms like “who gives a flying fig,” and asking “how ya doing?” followed by “okey, dokey!” So how do you get ahead with them?

* Dig into dishes that involve massive amounts of melted cheese. Your in-laws will prepare cheesy potatoes, cheesy broccoli, cheesy asparagus, and fried cheese curds — which sounds awful, but c’mon, let’s admit it, a little melted cheese makes everything better.
* “Live simply, so that others can simply live.” If your in-laws aren’t city dwellers, they’re farmers and they know how to birth a cow, mend a horse, or feed a pig. If you know zilch about farms, don’t fret. Praise the good bugs — ladybugs, lacewings, hoverflies, and honeybees — and chastise the potentially bad bugs — flea hoppers, lygus bugs, aphids, and mealy bugs. Impress your in-laws by differentiating good stinkbugs (they’re green) from bad ones (they’re brown).

How to dress: Something with an elastic waistband.
What not to do: Take shortcuts. Using life’s conveniences (leaf blower vs. rake, microwave vs. Crock-Pot, etc.) only means you’re not working hard enough!

Copyright © 2007 Dina Koutas Poch

Author
Dina Koutas Poch holds a B.A. from Brown University and an M.F.A. from Columbia University. She is a writer and filmmaker living in New York City with her husband. Her in-laws live in Connecticut.

For more information, please visit http://iheartmyinlaws.com

by Sophfronia Scott

A few years ago having a website was a nice little feature to have for your business or to keep your family and friends up to date. But these days, especially in the book business, having a smart website is a necessity. The site has to do many things: get you known, get your subject known, get people to buy your book on the subject.

Unfortunately most writers aren’t internet experts, much in the same way that they aren’t marketing experts. But to be successful with your book these days you have to be both. This primer will get you going. FYI, one of the smartest writer’s websites I know belongs to Tim Bete of http://www.TimBete.com. He won the 2005 Writers Digest Award for Best Writer’s Website and he provided a few of the tips below when he spoke to The Book Sistah Inner Circle in September 2006.

Don’t Wait: Put Your Website Up First

A lot of writers tend to think of a website as a promotional tool that they’ll put up after they sell their book to a publisher. But here’s the thing: if you don’t have a website it’ll be really hard, if not impossible, to sell your book to a publisher. As we’ve discussed in this newsletter before, when a publisher buys your book, they’re really buying your platform, or the audience that you can bring to the table. One writer recently emailed me that her agent had been told, “Why would anyone buy her book? No one knows who she is.” Unfair or not, that’s the way most publishers think.
But you can use your website (or blog) to get yourself known. You can start servicing your audience, posting articles and soliciting publicity for yourself and your work. This is where you start.

Use Your Name

There’s a big trend around having a domain name that reflects your subject matter (LivingWithToddlers.com) for instance. But remember, as a writer, your brand is YOU. You want to get your name known. So no matter how many domain names you own or use, make sure one of them is YourName.com. It’s easier for people (especially editors) to find you when you use your name. When you have an unusual name, like mine, you can also use your first name alone as a domain. I do both!

Connect With Your Audience

A website is your opportunity to engage your reader. Get them talking to you! Publish a newsletter that provides valuable content for your audience. Give them insight on what you’re working on, let them in on your thinking process. Once they know you and your work, they’ll be all the more excited about buying your book or books when they come out. Your audience can also help you write your book–ask them what they want to know, what they need help with. Send a brief survey telling them you’re gathering information for the book. Here’s a great secret: people want to help! They’ll be more than happy to pitch in–and more likely to buy the book because they helped create it!

Put Up Writing Samples–And Distribute Them

Your website is a great place for editors to find you. You may not have to work as hard seeking out a publisher or freelance assignment because when you have a solid website, chances are the editor will find you first. To be ready for them you’ll want your site to have lots of writing samples available. Perhaps you post your newsletter articles on your website as well. You’ll want an editor to be able to see immediately that you’re able to deliver the goods.
Here’s another tip: allow your newsletter articles to appear on sites other than your own. Distribute your work on sites such as EzineArticles.com or iSnare.com. Your work will appear all over the web on other people’s blogs, newsletters or websites, making it that much easier for your name to turn up when an editor is searching for a writer.

Learn How to Update Your Own Site

You’ll want your site to be alive–meaning fresh material, updated information and correct information. That can be difficult to do if you’re constantly having to find someone to make these updates for you. Do yourself a favor: purchase HTML editing software such as Macromedia’s Dreamweaver and learn how to make simple updates on your own. It’s not as difficult as you might think–many of these programs are similar to or as easy to use as your average word processing program. I bet you’ll be creating your own pages before you know it!

© 2007 Sophfronia Scott

Author and Writing Coach Sophfronia Scott is “The Book Sistah” TM. Get her FREE REPORT, “The 5 Big Mistakes Most Writers Make When Trying to Get Published” and her FREE online writing and book publishing tips at http://www.TheBookSistah.com

Sophfronia is also author of the bestselling novel, All I Need to Get By. If you liked today’s issue, stay tuned for more because The Book Sistah also offers FREE audio classes, FREE articles, workshops, and other resources to help aspiring authors get published and market their books successfully.

The Book Sistah
261 South Main St.
Ste. 319
Newtown, CT 06470
866-834-3942 [mailto:Info@TheBookSistah.com]Info@TheBookSistah.com
www.TheBookSistah.com

by Brad Grochowski

Obviously, Youtube and Myspace, as well as other similar sites, have revolutionized the way that video is presented on the web. Used to be, you had to host bandwidth-hogging, giant-file-sized videos on your own web server, and embed them in your site with HTML code that you wrote yourself.

It was tricky, and it took the right setup to make it work.

But now, not only can you, simply, upload your video to someone else’s server, your video is search-able, view-able, rate-able, and comment-able within a community that is out there just looking for new video material to watch.

Not only that, but these sites offer cut-and-paste embedding that make it really so simple to get your videos onto your own site - again, without a band-with or disk space cost to you.

This is all happening at a time when video promos of indie-published books are really catching on as a way to get attention for your book.

It doesn’t take a whole lot of time/money or resources to pull together a pretty great promo video. Especially now with the suite of applications that come standard with a Mac - including GarageBand and Imovie - with a little bit of savvy you can pull together a nice teaser.

Or, if you would rather not do it yourself, or would rather push it to a higher level of professionalism, you could always hire a video promotion company to put it together for you. This will cost you more, of course. But it may well be worth it when you consider the time and effort you will save, to say nothing of the higher production quality you are likely to end up with.

One company that specializes, in fact, in promo videos for books recently contacted me. I took a look at StoryPromos.com, and generally liked what I saw. Their sample videos look really well done. They seem more comfortable producing “scary” videos with baritone voice-overs and chilling music - but this may be a function of the material they have had to work with.

But in any case the pieces work. There is a great promo for a screenplay called “Malled” which, considering the stretched pun of the title, and the fact that it seems to be about a shopping mall that comes to life and eats people or something, I probably wouldn’t have given it much of a second though.

I have to admit that “Malled” is presented so well in the short clip - the voice talent sounds top-notch - that I am far more intrigued than I would ever have been had I seen only a website.

You can see some of their samples at their MySpace page, or look up their services and rates that their website.

So anyway, all of this to point out that I would be foolish to not recognize this trend, and incorporate it into AthorsBookshop.com. Because you have control over your book’s information, and because most of the fields are HMTL enabled, you can embed your promo video right into your book’s page! So, you can place the best tool for selling your book in the exact spot where shoppers are going to have the option to buy it!

In the near future I plan to set up a more integrated method of posting your videos to your book’s page, but in the meantime it seems to work really well. Here is an example which, though it isn’t a promo (it’s a clip from a local news program) it demonstrates how effective the combination of YouTube and AuthorsBookshop.com can be:

www.authorsbookshop.com/thisbookcooks/

I certainly don’t think video promos are the end-all marketing tool that will, alone, push your book sales into the best-seller stratosphere. But, combined with the many other tools and strategies that are surfacing, they can be a powerful tool to hook people into what your book is about.

About the Author:

Brad Grochowski is the founder and owner of AuthorsBookshop.com. He is also the author of The Secret Weakness of Dragons.

by Michael LaRocca

One of the nice things about being an author is that we can break any rule we want. (I just did.) It’s part of our job description. Language changes through usage — definitions, spelling, grammar — and authors can help it do this. But on the other hand, we have to have some sort of agreement on the language or we won’t be able to talk to each other.

When we as authors break a rule or two, it’s not because we’re ignorant. It’s because we have reasons to break them. That’s one of the joys of writing.

Having said that, now I’m going to explain some rules. There are two types of writing in your novel. There is your narrative and there is your dialogue. The rules for the two are not the same.

For example, comma use. In dialogue, it’s not so difficult. Put in a comma wherever your speaker pauses in his/her speaking. In narrative, you have to consult the style guides and hope that you and your editor, working as a team, can sort it all out.

NARRATIVE

A cop thriller like my VIGILANTE JUSTICE has a simple set of rules for the narrative portion. Third-person, straightforward writing, light on adjectives and adverbs, easy to read and grammatically correct. Sentence fragments are acceptable if communication is achieved, and you’ll note that I use them often in this article. Why? Simply because it’s more effective that way.
Read the rest of this entry »

The following is an excerpt from the book The Last Summer (of You & Me)
by Ann Brashares
Published by Riverhead Books; June 2007;$24.95US/$31.00CAN; 978-1-59448-917-4
Copyright © 2007 Ann Brashares

One

Waiting

Alice waited for Paul on the ferry dock. He’d left a crackly message on the answering machine saying he’d be coming in on the afternoon boat. That was like him. He couldn’t say the 1:20 or the 3:55. She’d spent too long staring at the ferry schedule, trying to divine his meaning.

With some amount of self-hatred, Alice had first walked out onto the dock for the 1:20, knowing he wouldn’t be on it. She’d looked only vaguely at the faces as they emerged from the boat, assuring herself she wasn’t expecting anything. She’d sat with her bare feet on the bench at the periphery, her book resting on her knees so she wouldn’t have to interact with anyone. I know you’re not going to be on it, so don’t think I think you are, she’d told the Paul who lived in her mind. Even there, under her presumed control, he was teasing and unpredictable.

For the 3:55, she put Vaseline on her lips and brushed her hair. The boat after that wasn’t until 6:10, and though Paul could miss the so-called afternoon ferry, he couldn’t call 6:10 the afternoon.

How often she did attempt to process his thoughts in her mind. She took his opinions too seriously, remembered them long after she suspected he’d forgotten them.

It was one thing, trying to think his thoughts when he was close by, his words offering clues, corrections, and confirmations by the hour. But three years of silence made for complex interpolations. It made it harder, and in another way it made it easier. She was freer with his thoughts. She made them her own, thoug