Category: Tales From the Writer’s Life
Summer Time and the Livin is Easy? NOT
Yes, it has come to this. I am so exhausted from all this “summer vacation” that the lyrics from Porgy and Bess make me ornery. I could have told you – even without looking it up – that the person who wrote the lyric “Summer time and the livin is easy” was a MAN. Sure enough, it appears author DuBose Heyward who wrote the novel that the opera is based upon penned that line. 
Let me tell you Mr. Heyward, as an author and a mother that line of prose makes diet coke squirt out of my nose in a most unbecoming way. If, like me, you combine writing with mothering all from the same location (home) then summertime is a marathon—a marathon that your muse is bound to lose. Can I get an amen from the other writing mom’s out there?!
Unless you ship your kids off to sleep-away camp there will never be a more chaotic time for writing than summer “vacation” (well I suppose trying to write during a family crisis would be worse but let’s hope that isn’t as common an experience as summer-vacation writing is). The school year schedule may provide short writing days, but those truncated days are blessedly quiet. And they are relatively uninterrupted, except when the fridge is bare and the shopping must be done or one’s spouse declares he is wearing absolutely his last pair of clean undies so you spend half the day running up and down stairs to your laundry room.
During the school year if I am writing well I don’t eat lunch. During the summer it doesn’t matter how well I am writing, my elementary aged-son son is going to get hungry. And he, not unreasonably, is going to want to spend some time with me (unless he is avoiding doing his daily math and in which case I am going to go looking for him, muse be damned). Summer’s short windows for writing tend to provide just enough time for me to get into a scene before, voila, it is time to stop. Someone always needs picking up somewhere (the metro station, a lesson, day camp) and the fear of forgetting a child somewhere looms even larger than the fear I am never going to finish this manuscript. So I leave the fantastic paragraph unfinished and jump in the mom-mobile.
Yes Sophie you say – nodding your head in maternal commiseration—but where is all this whining going to get you?
NOWHERE. And that is the point (you were hoping I had one weren’t you). Being frustrated never got a chapter finished, and it sure sucks the fun out of cookie-making or crafts. As I see it we (the mass of mom’s with kids home for at least a few more weeks who are desperately trying get some other sort of work done) have a couple of choices:
We can try to be supermoms. We can get up to write before the kids awake; work after their bedtimes; and make ourselves jot down a sentence or two while waiting in the camp carpool line. This is a necessary approach for those of us on deadline, and it works wonders for some writers– but it is ONLY if they are the type of person who can write under that sort of pressure (and at odd hours). Staying up past your bedtime is not a winning strategy if you are prone to waking at 3 a.m. in a pool of drool on your own manuscript.
We can get away. Probably not for the whole summer, but if you are the type of writer who works best in long stretches and relative quiet, what about grabbing a long weekend here or there? Tell your husband “you’re it” and head to a friend’s guest room or somewhere more glamorous (funding permitting). If I had this summer to so all over again, I would take a whole week for myself. I’d put my college girl in charge of my younger kids, tell my husband to feed the family take out, and head for the hills. There’s always next summer . . .
We can cut ourselves some slack. We can accept the rhythm and writing-rate that a summer with children at home imposes and shrug, muttering “I can only do what I can do” under our breaths. Ultimately (after 3 rounds of out-of-town guests, 4 different types of camps, etc) this is what I am doing. You see I had an epiphany while on my real vacation. By the time I hit the beach last week I was as crabby as a two-year-old kept up for 36 hours straight and only given junk food. I wasn’t enjoying my writing. I wasn’t enjoying my kids. And I KNOW I was inflicting collateral damage on the rest of my family (because hey, to quote something I read in a Washington Post editorial years ago, “if mama ain’t happy, ain’t NOBODY happy). I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, it’s August, you didn’t write as much as I thought I would this summer. Get over it and enjoy the weeks you have left before school starts.”
I am I disappointed in myself? What good would that do? There is enough needless worrying and unearned guilt in mothering at the best of times, and plenty in writing as well. Besides, the book will get done. To circle back to Porgy & Bess (with a few changes):
One of these mornings, I’m gonna rise up singing. I’m gonna spread my wings and take to the sky.
I suspect that morning will come the Tuesday after Labor Day. I imagine I’ll see plenty of other writer-moms up in the clouds that day as well.
Clothing Makes the Man (or Woman) – A Plea for a Return to A More Civilized Dress Code
I’ve been thinking about the power of clothing.
I do this a lot because I am both a) rather strangely obsessed with historical clothing and b) profoundly dissatisfied with how we dress in modern times. Look around you – almost nobody looks spiffy. Rather, nearly everyone looks like they thought they would be spending the day lolling about on the floor of a college dorm room ( even the 50 year old executives on the metro on “casual Friday”) or like they’ve been under the weather so they never quite got out of their sweats.
It used to be that clothes reflected a person’s status. Sumptuary laws made certain that only those at the top of the pecking order were allowed to wear certain materials. You knew a king when you saw one. I am not advocating a return to class-distinction by wardrobe. By no means. But who would have predicted when dress was democratized that a race to the bottom would begin? Yet today, after hundreds of years during which tradesmen and later the middle class tried to dress up a socio-economic level (or two), people willingly leave their homes in such a slovenly state that, but for their hygiene and the fact they have their teeth, they could pass for peasants.
All this “casual” dress is done in the name of comfort, but there is no reason in the world why nice, properly pressed clothing can’t be comfortable. And if it is not as comfortable as just throwing on any old rumpled thing, isn’t personal pride worth a modicum of sacrifice?
Yesterday over at Steampunk.com there was a discussion of the 2013 Prada Fall/Winter line. They were, of course, interested in the steampunkiness of the collection but I saw lots of historical references in the garments. I was struck by just how good the models all looked—even Willem Dafoe who has looked slightly seedy and decrepit for years. They look powerful, confident, sharp and generally more attractive then when you see them in modern clothing (go ahead, Google Gary Oldman and compare an image of him in street clothing to those of him in the Prada). This confirmed something I’ve suspected for a long time—almost everyone looks better “dressed-up” (as in properly, neatly and relatively formally attired).
If you want further proof compare pictures from people in your own life when they look “thrown together” with those where they are “sharply dressed.” I mean there is a reason we tend to put on more formal clothing for auspicious occasions—we want to look our best. You didn’t wear flip flops, sweats and a tee-shirt for your wedding right? (please, PLEASE tell me you didn’t). To illustrate my point, here are two pictures of the same young man (a daughter’s boyfriend). In the first he is dressed in typical college wear, in the other in a vintage bespoke 1939 tailcoat. Not close is it?
I concede (though it gives me no pleasure) that the days of dressing for dinner are past, and that going back to styles which require the assistance of a valet or ladies maid is out of the question. But surely it is not too late to bring back pride in personal appearance and the idea that different clothing is appropriate for different settings (work vs. cutting your lawn)?
Maybe what we really need is this fellow. Is he rude in this sketch—yes. Is it meant to be funny—of course. But have we all seen people dressed like this and thought they were “a turd”—I sure have.
Lucky Thirteen – Thirteen Things I am Grateful for on the Thirteen-Week Anniversary of The Sister Queen’s Release
For the superstitious, thirteen is hardly an auspicious number. And, as those of you who’ve read my blog post at Book Pregnant know, a novel more than three months past its release can start to get lost in the shuffle, leaving its author with a case of the not-so-new-anymore blues. Call me a cockeyed optimist but I choose to face the thirteen-week anniversary of the release of The Sister Queens with a list of thirteen reasons (in no particular order) that I am grateful to be JUST WHERE AND WHEN I AM.
1. My day started with this touching shout out from fellow writer Joey Francisco. Joey reminds us that reading can transport people—even people oppressed by pain and illness—and she challenges authors to “pay it forward” by donating a copy of their work to the book cart at their local hospital. What a timely reminder of the magic of fiction, and what a fantastic service idea!
2. Reviewers have been generous. To date The Sister Queens has received more than three-dozen very positive reviews. Most recently, The School Library Journal declared:
Word on the street (rather, consensus among historical fiction bloggers) is that this is an author to watch whose book is a page-turner, fast-paced, emotional, passionate, well-written and carefully researched.”
3. The Fans are FANTASTIC. I am constantly hearing from new people who love my book and support my writing. Readers, your notes, direct messages, and tweets mean so very much. Thank you. Thirteen weeks on, I am still receiving photos from Queen Spotters around the country. Got another picture of The Sister Queens lounging on a bed inMaine just this past weekend.
4. I’ve been invited to be a Presenting Author at the 2012 Baltimore Book Festival. What better way to spend the last weekend in September? I will be participating in a number of panels including a discussion of “Trends in Historical Fiction” and (oh JOY) a reconstitution of the “Sex and the Historical Novelist” panel that Kate Quinn, Stephanie Dray and I created for our triple-author appearance in April
5. I hit my all-time high Amazon ranking for The Sister Queens in trade paperback on my twelve-week anniversary! Looks like buzz is building sales even if The Sister Queens is not a “new release” anymore.
6. High fives, hand-holding and the occasional shoulder as needed from fellow writers make a solitary profession less so. I’ve never been in a more supportive profession. From the marvelous writers whose blurbs grace The Sister Queen’s cover, to the twenty-nine fellow members of my debut author group, Book Pregnant, the past thirteen weeks have been full of fellow writers willing to lend an ear or a hand as I navigated my debut. Talk about renewed faith in mankind.
7. Team Sophie rocked the postcards. Team Sophie is made up of readers who signed on to share their enthusiasm about The Sister Queens. Their first mission was mailing a few custom postcards to recommend the novel to friends. Team S, you all made a serious dent in my pile of postcards 🙂 and I don’t doubt for a moment that the buzz you generated caused an uptick in sales.
8. Book clubs made me feel welcome. I am now a book-club veteran with both live and skype appearances under my belt (here’s a picture of the Georgia club that provided my first skype date). A chance to discuss the themes and characters in my novel—that’s like chocolate, red wine and good sex all rolled into one. Bless you book clubs. Bless you.
9. My wip (work in progress) feeds my need. Sometimes I love it. Other times . . . it makes me feel like I am trapped under something heavy. But the truth is I can’t live without the magical time-traveling rush I get from writing. So I am happy for my current manuscript which keeps me cocooned in the 16th century.
10. My family reminds me there are more important things in life than how many words I write each day. When the muse doesn’t cooperate and I descend from my office grumpy and fershimmeled the faces of my husband and children remind me the day is still a success in other, more important, ways. And when the muse does cooperate and I forget about making dinner, I am grateful that my family rolls with it (generally) without complaint.
11. The twenty-five readers who reviewed The Sister Queens on Amazon, and the many more who reviewed it on Goodreads took the time to make a difference. You have powerful voices and help others make reading and purchasing decisions. Particularly at Amazon your numbers move algorithms, influencing how often and where my book is recommended to other visitors. Thanks!
12. Nearly 300 people have “liked” either my book page or my author page at Facebook 🙂
13. My agent and my editor had faith in me (and in The Sister Queens). That faith permitted me to step on the roller-coaster that is publication. It’s been a wild ride so far, but I haven’t thrown up yet! That’s something isn’t it?
Here’s to the next thirteen weeks with all their triumphs and trials!
Why I Want Books For Mother’s Day
Mother’s Day is a “brunch holiday.” I detest brunch. There is something so very non-committal about it. Besides, all the best food (not to mention the alcohol to go with it) comes out after dark. In the early years of being a mother I devoted considerable time and energy in the month of April to oh-so-subtly delivering my anti-brunch message (my husband comes from a Mother’s-Day-Brunch family). By the time we had two toddlers I’d given up on subtle and had “Sophie hates brunch” tattooed on hubby’s arm. Let’s face it there is NOTHING relaxing or celebratory about trying to consume a meal in a nice restaurant with two toddlers. And, crazy as it may seem, I’ve always been under the impression that a gift is supposed to delight and relax its recipient.
Motherhood is not, generally speaking, a relaxing occupation. Everything is prone to interruption. Everything. If you are a mother and you’ve been drawn, shampoo-still-in-hair, from the shower by disturbing sounds from elsewhere in your house—sounds suggesting that either furniture or children are being broken—then you know precisely what I mean. The TRULY perfect Mother’s Day gift would be an exotic getaway. A weekend on a beach inBali. Shopping inParis. A day at the spa. Heck, I drive past a Dominican retreat on my appointed motherly rounds, and lately I’ve been thinking a day with the nuns would do wonders for me. Please note, I am not even Catholic.
The truth is, for many of us, an actually physical getaway is pipe dream. There are kids to be delivered to and from a myriad of activities (anyone who’s had a “oh my god I forgot to pick up [insert child’s name here]” moment, raise your hand), homework to help with, etc. And can you just imagine the size of the laundry pile that would await a mother’s return should she actually manage to slip away toBali?
But being a mom is a joy and an avocation. It’s taught me a lot of things including how to live in the moment. After two decades of motherhood I know that I need to both treasure and expect my “me time” in small increments. You have perhaps heard of the twenty-minute power nap? Well, I have become the master of the eleven-minute sitting-in-the-car-getaway. And that leads me to books.
Books offer the perfect, portable, getaway. I may look like I am in the carpool line, waiting for the man with the whistle to call a hundred car engines to life, but I am not. I am in ancient Rome thanks to Kate Quinn’s Empress of the Seven Hills. I am in regency England watching a confirmed bachelor-dandy fall head-over-heels thanks to Miranda Neville. I am spending an afternoon with Catherine de Medici thanks to biographer R. J. Knecht. I am attending festivities at the Valois court with Philippe Erlanger. I am discovering a set of sisters from Provence in a secondary research source on Notre Dame de Paris—sisters who will lead me on an adventure ultimately resulting in the publication of my debut novel, The Sister Queens.
The cost of these getaways is negligible (certainly not in the league of airline tickets to Bali). For the cost of a brunch I’d hate for the five of us, my family can get me a whole armload of books I’ll love and that will fit into my schedule. Yes, I may get snappish when I am forced to put down a novel at a climatic moment to help find a uniform skirt gone missing, or “check” on someone who has already been in bed for an hour but is still not asleep (you know who you are, son). But it’s a lot easier to settle back down on the couch and slip back into the French Revolution with Michelle Moran’s Madame Tussaud than it is to sop up all the water and suds from interrupted tub-time. When I travel by novel I can get back home from Paris for tuck-in time. Try doing that by airplane (especially in a TSA infested air-travel world).
So, husband dearest, books please. Mother’s Day is still more than a week away. Don’t make me tattoo this on your. . . oh, never mind.
The Seventh Inning and No Time to Stretch
I can’t believe it – today marks the 7-week anniversary since launch day for The Sister Queens. Never have weeks rolled by so quickly!
Much of the time I’ll admit I was lost in a blur of blog appearances and promotional duties, so I may have fallen short of my pre-launch pledge to “savor every moment.” But just because I was dazed doesn’t mean I didn’t’ enjoy myself! Highlights included a marvelous Moroccan dinner at the home of a woman who “won” me in a school auction; an on-line author chat where I shared the virtual floor with the talented Christy English; and a well-attended outing at Barnes & Noble where the incomparable Kate Quinn & Stephanie Dray joined me for a lively discussion of “Sex, Lies and History: A Literary Threesome.”
And then of courses there were the reviews. The Sister Queens was privileged (and I was humbled) to receive more than two-dozen on-line reviews from book bloggers and on-line publications during its first seven weeks on the market. If you are interested in reading some of the many good things that have been written about The Sister Queens, check out the “reviews” category here at the blog—it should take you directly to some of my “highlight” posts complete with links to full reviews. Besides these “official” opinions, many readers have taken the time to share what they thought about the book at Goodreads and Amazon. To everyone who has taken a moment to let me know whether by review, letter or email, how you felt about my debut effort, thank you! To all my “queen-spotters” (some of whose pictures dot this post), I appreciate your time, your enthusiasm and your photographic skills. My collage is filling in nicely. Over all then I am feeling pretty grateful to say the least!
But, even as I bask in the glow of a successful release, I know this is no time to take things easy. In the first weeks after its release a book is the latest thing. It’s on all those glamorous, sexy front bookstore tables under signs like “New Releases” or “Notable in Paperback” The internet hums with talk of an author with a new release and of her book. New is exciting. I am not new anymore. But I still want to be exciting! In the next seven weeks, even as I shift my attention more and more to my wip, I will still have an eye on The Sister Queens. I hope you will too oh faithful readers. The optimist inside me says that book lovers—unlike those who find the majority of their entertainment electronically—still have nice long attention spans in a era of sound-bites. Here’s hoping I am right!
Fantasy Casting—Sport of Arm Chair Readers and Writers Alike
I don’t play fantasy sports (real sports either for the record), but as a reader and writer I participate in something similar—fantasy casting. I bet you do too. Certain novels just read like movies, filling my head with images of people, places and situations so vivid that I might be watching the action unfold on a screen. I know EXACTLY who I’d like to see play particular characters in some of my favorite novels but, sadly, no one inHollywood ever rings me up when they are making a movie out of a book and says “cast this baby for us.”
Hence the fantasy casting. Because when real-life constraints—money, an actor’s age, and/or even whether he/she is still among the living—are set aside I can have any book made into a movie starring precisely who I envision in each role. Bliss.
Of course my fantasy cast is not your fantasy cast. And that’s another upside from my point of view. If I prefer Glenda Jackson asElizabeth I (a role she nailed on the BBC before many of you were born) and you prefer Cate Blanchett that’s just fine. We can each pop some popcorn, pull up our respective hassocks, settle down with the very same book in hand and watch the action on the tiny screens in our head featuring our choice. It’s a fantasy remember 🙂
But for some reason while I’ve been busy casting other writer’s historical novels I never thought about a fantasy cast for The Sister Queens . . . until yesterday. That’s when a pair of talented writer friends (Lydia Netzer and Nancy Bilyeau) pointed out how cinemographic my novel is and started making casting suggestions of their own.
Next thing you knew we had a pretty good list going. I knew it was time to share, and more than that to solicit readers’ opinions. So, in a sort of “We’ll show you our if you show us yours” gesture, I am putting our current fantasy casting ideas out on the table and counting on you to reciprocate. Who do you see playing Louis IX? Eleanor? Jean? The Dragon of Castile? DO TELL (that’s what comments sections are made for)!
Fantasy Cast, The Sister Queens:
A Starter List Courtesy of Sophie, Lydia and Nancy
Marguerite: (I’ll admit I see my eldest daughter in this role so thank heavens for the suggestions of others) Romola Garai, Saoirse Ronan, Keira Knightly
Eleanor: (Again my second daughter plays this role in my head): Miranda Otto (remember current age is no impediment), Anna Kendrick, Hailee Steinfeld (right age for start of book but later?), Rooney Mara, Dakota Fanning
Blanche of Castile: Dame Judy Dench, Virna Lisi
Louis IX: Julian Sands (when he was younger), Rupert Penry-Jones (ditto. Or he could play Henry as he currently is), Keith Ledger (told you we included the dead), Alex Pettfer, Raymond Coulthard, Douglas Booth (if he isn’t playing Jean)
Jean de Joinville: Douglas Booth (if you didn’t see him in the recent Masterpiece Great Expectations, click the link—it will be apparent why he is my first choice), Kit Harington (you know, Jon Snow in Game of Thrones), a younger Joseph Fiennes (particular if his brother played Henry), Henry Cavill, Jamie Bell (right age for the start of the action but later?), Jeremy Irvine, Orlando Bloom (who might also play Louis if he put in those contacts he wore for Legolas)
Henry III: Michael Fassbender (yeah he is too good looking – so?), Seth Green, Daniel Auteuil (in younger days), Sean Bean (and for once he wouldn’t have to DIE in a movie), Johnny Lee Miller, Rupert Penry-Jones.
What If You Don’t Like It?
One day after release of The Sister Queens I am offering absolution to those who don’t find it their cup of tea. Come on over to A Bookish Affair and receive official permission to love me but not my book. 
And speaking of loving me . . . pop over to Between the Sheets for your daily dose of Sophie facts. I share with Heather my advice for aspiring authors, and explain why I am a character junkie.
Tell a Friend (or a Non-Friend)
When I became active on social media and started blogging I promised myself I was never going to use those tools to say “buy my book.” I made this vow primarily because such direct shilling makes me profoundly uncomfortable when I am on the receiving end of it.
Now, with the launch of my debut novel. The Sister Queens, only 2-weeks away (March 6th), and knowing as I do how important it is to sell well in the two weeks after the book debuts there is a considerable amount of temptation to break my word. As an individual who embraces “historical” values, however, I still believe “a man’s word is his bond” (ditto a woman’s word). So what to do? Make all the new friends I’ve made on twitter, facebook and through this website feel uncomfortable by hitting them up? Or remain silent and possibly miss sales?
As I tend to do whenever faced with unpalatable choices, I’ve imagined a third option (darn creative types, always imagining things). So today, and without breaking any promises, I am asking you to tell someone else to buy my book. You don’t have to spend a dime of your own money on The Sister Queens if you don’t want to, but please consider suggesting or recommending it to someone else.
How, you may ask, can I do that when I’ve never read The Sister Queens? Ah, but here’s the beauty of my suggestion—I didn’t specify WHO you should tell. If you suspect, based on your virtual acquaintance with me, that I am only good for 140 character quips and I probably should have stuck to Twitter, then recommend The Sister Queens to your mother-in-law, that lady in the next cubicle at work who talks too loudly on her phone about matters of personal hygiene, or any other person you are not particularly crazy about. Sale for me; revenge for you.
If, on the other hand, anything I’ve said in this forum or elsewhere has resonated with you or made you think, “that woman can write,” then please mention The Sister Queens to a friend. It won’t cost you anything and you will be doing me a big favor. Heck you might be doing your book-mad friend a favor too.
Gifts My Sister Gave Me – Part I
Whatever our personal relationship with our sisters one thing cannot be denied – they have shaped who we are. They have given us a personality trait, an ambition, a talent, a tolerance that we would not have had but for knowing them. They have given us a “gift”—even if, in some cases, at the time it was bestowed that gift may have seemed a burden not a blessing.
Next week I want to hear from you about the gifts your sisters have given you. And, to encourage you to share (while celebrating the one-month-to-release mark for my novel), there will be giveaway involved.
But today I want to write about one of the gifts my sister gave me. My sister gave me this writing career. Yes, I know that with my debut novel just about to hit shelves it is a tad premature to declare that I have a “C”areer in writing. Forgive me that for the moment. What I am trying to say is my sister gave me permission to be a writer. More than that she gave me a push.
Once upon a time I was a lawyer—an antitrust litigator to be precise, not that it matters really. I’d wanted to be a lawyer since I was a little girl. Dream realized (check). I should have been happy. I wasn’t. I was casting about for something to be next. Asking a question I hadn’t asked in a very long time, “what do I want to be when I grow up.” I think that’s a much tougher question when you already ARE grown up. So much of who you think you are is wrapped up in your professional success. The idea of making a change is scary. Major anxiety. Major. I can’t do major anxiety without my sister. I am betting over the years there have been times she has fervently wished that I could. But if I am going to obsess, stress out, or break down I am going to call my sister. Doubtless this particular existential crisis involved multiple calls (my sister really should have been getting combat pay), but I remember THE call.
“Writer” wasn’t on the table for “next job” consideration. But what is or isn’t “on the table” doesn’t stop my sister (and I am betting it doesn’t stop yours either) Sisters speak wisdom unexpectedly.
“I know you are making up a story right now in your head,” my sister said. She was right of course and, because she knows me better than anyone, better than I know myself, I didn’t deny it. “Whatever that story is,” she said, “pick up your dictaphone and start saying it out loud.”
My husband, children and I were leaving on a beach vacation, I took my dictaphone with me like my sister told me to. I dictated scenes at the seaside. Later, at home, I used the voice-activated feature to dictate while I washed floors. Most infamously (at least in my family) I dictated a scene in the frozen food section of my local grocery store while a clerk looked suspiciously on (industrial spy anyone?). The book that resulted from my sister’s words snagged my agent. My agent found me my audience.
My sister was uniquely qualified to give me this gift (and my life as a writer is one of the greatest dream-come-true gifts of my life). She knew I was a storyteller. She’s a large part of the reason I became one. As children we had a forty-five-minute walk to school (yes, one way but NOT uphill both ways). I filled that time by weaving “continuing sagas” (the more sensational the better, I fear) for my travel companions. I still remember a sci-fi tale of a color coded world, but the salient point here is that my sister alone (discounting our walking companions who went on to lives and places unknown) was privy to this side of me. In school (high school and college) I was known as more of an essayist – and occasionally a poet – NOT one of those people who constantly wrote fiction and squirreled it away. As I went on to be a mild-mannered (ha) lawyer nobody around me knew about the “other” Sophie. I, myself, may even have temporarily forgotten my passion for storytelling. But a sister never forgets.
So thank you sis. In case I haven’t said it before, in case the dedication in my book didn’t make it clear—I owe you one. A big one.
Not All Sales Are Created Equal – What Your Writer Friends Wish You Knew But Are Too Polite to Tell You
Do you know a writer with a book coming out via a traditional publisher? Even if you are a writer yourself there is something you many not know if you have yet to be published. Something you should know if you want to support published friends.
All sales are not created equal. Even if they are sales of the same title, in the same format for the same price. This is something I didn’t know this time last year.
Interested in learning why it’s important to order or shop for friends’ books early? Come on over to From the Write Angle and read my blog on the subject. Your writer friends will thank you.
