Have You Ever Felt...

Warning: I'm in a bad mood, and it will likely be reflected in today's post.

Yesterday afternoon, I received a rejection from what was, essentially, my last chance for a particular manuscript. It's official. I'm retiring that particular novel until further notice. This isn't an easy decision. I'm not doing this spur of the moment. This was a decision I came to before I sent off that last query.

I'm not happy about it, and I'm considering my options, but I'm not in the best frame of mind right now and I should probably withhold any decision-making until I cheer up a bit.

Have you ever felt utterly worthless?

You see, I don't have a lot of skills to my advantage. I'm pretty average actually. Average height, slightly higher than average weight, average intelligence, average physical ability (though less than average upper-body strength), average looks - not ugly, but not especially pretty either... just so incredibly average.

The only thing that set me apart was my imagination, and the ability to express it (albeit with typos and spelling errors) in writing. It was the one pride I carried with me throughout my life thus far.

Turns out, I'm pretty average at that too. My writing isn't good enough to sell.

As most of you know, I have no beef with self-publishing. I have an anthology of stories out there right now that I've self-published. I think the stigma around self-publishing is ebbing away. Let's face it, there are some absolute gems out there that traditional publishers had passed by (there's a lot of rubbish as well, but luckily, most books can be previewed).

That said, I just don't have the clout to market my self-published stuff very well. Anyone who has tried will know exactly what I'm talking about. It's high school all over again out there - one giant popularity contest.

I was never popular. In fact, I was so unpopular that I missed out on my debutante celebration because not a single guy would be caught dead taking me to the dance. Trust me. I asked everyone. One guy even said that he wasn't going, only to announce the next week that he had just acquired a date for the dance.

(For those of you unfamiliar with the debutante tradition, at 16 years old or so, a girl "comes of age" wears white and goes to a dance (it's a bit weird actually. It looks like a mass wedding...). It's ladies choice, which means the girl must do everything normally handled by the guy, including asking someone out. It's not like a Formal (in North America, you call a Formal a Prom), where you can go with a bunch of friends and screw the date. You must be accompanied to a Debutante Ball).

That's how popular I was in high school.

Nothing's changed.

When it comes to marketing, I cannot, for the life of me, be disingenuous. I can't do it. On twitter, I won't follow someone in the hopes that they'll follow me back. I follow people I'm genuinely interested in. I would hope that the people following me are genuinely interested in what I have to say, rather than just there because they're trying to appear like they have more friends than they actually do.

The same is true of blogs. I read the blogs of people I care enough to spend my precious time reading about. I follow friend's blogs, the blogs of members of my family, and the blogs of authors I very much admire (such as Neil Gaiman and George R.R. Marin). I don't have the time to read the blog posts of everyone in the whole world. I like to read and interact with the bloggers I follow. There are only so many hours in a day, and I can't do the same for everyone in the world. To even try would be a great injustice to everyone involved.

I would hope that the people who follow my blog do so because they enjoy reading it, not because they're begging for reciprocal attention.

Facebook and Goodreads are a little different. I'll friend just about anyone there (it's so easy to ignore people).

If I retweet/facebook/blog a link about a book, it's because I genuinely thought the book was worth something. I would hope that others would do the same for mine.

I'm also horribly shy around people I don't know. I close up and close off. I suppose people mistake this for snobbery, but it's not. I'm just terrible at being around new people. I can't speak in front of crowds without flushing furiously and desperately fighting back tears. The tears get stuck in my throat making it hard to speak. Just the thought makes me nauseous. Large crowds have me so tense I can barely breathe, even if I'm not speaking before them.

In short, marketing is not my forte. Being out and about, meeting and greeting... I can't do it; not well, in any case.

No one's going to read the books I self-publish because no one even knows I exist... well, other than friends and family, that is. And that's not going change any time soon. If I am to become a well-known author, I need help. When you self-publish, you do it all on your own.

And that is where I fall down.

In any case, why would I self-publish something that the industry has turned down? Clearly it's not good enough. I know that there are arguments about what will sell vs. what is actually good, but if an agent or a publisher gets really excited about a story, they'll take a chance. It's been done before, with much success.

In any case, I'll continue to self-publish my short-story collections, and anthologies of poetry, when I get around to consolidating them. My novels, however, I will write and save and perhaps one day, someone will think I do actually have a talent worth investing in.

Sorry to bring everyone down. I'm just feeling very disappointed right now, and more than a little upset. I'll get over it, of course, and press on as always. I just need some time to be upset, I think.

Well, now that I've thoroughly depressed everyone else, here's your Forgotten English word of the day:

Dunny

Hard of hearing. Dunch is deaf in Gloucestershire and Somersetshire dialects; whence is derived the word dunce.

- G. Lewis' Glossary of Provincial Words Used in Herefordshire, 1839

Dunt, to confuse with noise; to deafen. From 15th-century dunt, a dull blow.

- Edward Gepp's Essex Dialect Dictionary, 1923

Funny, 'dunny' in Australia means toilet. I wonder if it's a reference to the toilet's other nick-name 'thunder-box.'

A Life of Learning

Edit to correct glaring typographical errors... because I'm a dolt.

Good morning!

This weekend, I learnt to sew. Not exactly accurate, actually. I already knew how to sew. This weekend, I learnt to use a sewing machine. I remember trying once in early High School, only to have my home economics teacher tell me I'd never make a good wife (but response was 'good,' but never mind about that).

I regret not learning, however, as I often watch my flatmate make awesome dresses in a matter of minutes. This weekend, I resolved to learn, if only because I've been dying to make a costume for Equestrian Archery.

Yes, I am that much of a dork.

I had hit upon a three-layer design - Long sleeved undershirt, T-Tunic, sleeveless long tunic - and I really, really wanted it done for the next lesson. The undershirt and T-tunic are finished. All that remains is the sleeveless long tunic, and that's going to take some time as it's a little more complicated than the T-Tunic. It's going to be epic.

Also, my flatmate and I have more or less formed our very own SCA (Society of Creative Anachronisms). We're not so dorky that we've taken on alternate names or call each other by title (except in a tongue-in-cheek fashion), but we have decided on sigils that best describe us. J.M-B., for example has taken as her sigil the polar bear. K.M-B. has chosen a falcon.

I, myself, have chosen a boar. I was thinking of something cooler at first, like a wolf or stag. However, I think boar suits me best. Let's face it, I have none of the grace of a stag, nor any of the sleek quality of a wolf.

And if I didn't prove I was geeky enough before, I think I just cinched it now! Whatever. What's life without a little whimsy?

All of that to say, I'm rather proud of myself for learning to use a sewing machine (even though the machine was temperamental as hell).

Onto some really rather wonderful news. I've decided to publish my short story anthology, The Dying God & Other Stories, to a broader readership. To that end, I spent much of last week preparing the document for publication via Smashwords.com.

Due to file size issues, and my inability to compress images in words as per later versions of word, I was unable to upload the illustrated version to Smashwords. However, I created a less expensive Unillustrated Edition, which you can purchase for $5.99. Click HERE if you would like to preview/download the eBook.

As Amazon.com Kindle Store didn't have such a restriction of the file size upload, I uploaded the illustrated version there. It is now officially live. Click HERE if you would like that one instead. There is a price difference, since this one has pictures....

Both versions are available for the same prices via Goodreads.com. Click HERE for the Illustrated version, and HERE for the Unillustrated version.

And of course, the original is still available via Lebrary.com.

After that exciting news, I just remembered that I forgot to prepare the weekend's Forgotten English. Complete human error this time. Luckily for you that translates into a two-for-one deal... or , at least, it would, if I could find Saturday's word. Um... hmmm...

You'll get it when I find it.

Today's Forgotten English is:

Nitty

Abounding with nits, the eggs of a louse or other small insect.

- Rev. John Boag's Imperial Lexicon of the English Language, c. 1850

There's a fair amount of filing that needs to be done, so I'll not likely hit my word count target today. Oh well. Such is life.

Have a marvellous Monday everyone!

Shhhh... It's a Secret

Don't tell anyone, but I now have an unillustrated version of The Dying God & Other Stories up on Smashwords.com.

Who am I kidding? Tell everyone.

There are no illustrations, save the cover, because including them all made the file too large to upload to Smashwords. On the bright side, this means I can't rightfully charge as much, so this version is cheaper at $5.99 (USD).

I'm not one of those people who would price an eBook at $0.99 because I happen to think my time is more valuable than that, and I've spent a lot of time on this.

Warning though: There are some corruption issues - the text has decided to publish in the colour yellow, for some reason. I'm going to fix that (hopefully) today, so wait until this afternoon if you absolutely must buy yourself a copy. I'll be announcing on Twitter and Facebook when I fix it, so keep an eye out there for the news.

I spent so much time formatting the Smashwords version yesterday, that no writing was done whatsoever. I'm not bothered, I am still up 5 000 words on today's target. I'll be formatting again today, so again, no writing. Also, it's Friday, and I take those off. Mostly. Sometimes.

I even worked overtime. So much so, that it was too late for me to make it to training. I had every intention of going to training, but the formatting issue which I could not fix posed too great a challenge to complete on time. I went home instead, and then had a very long nap before having a dream about food and deciding that I needed to get up and eat.

Right, I must get on with it. Here's today's Forgotten English:

Waistcoateer

A name formerly given to common prostitutes from a garment somewhat resembling a waistcoat worn by them. "You you think you're here, Sir, among your waistcoateers, your bas wenches?" Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit Without Money (1639).

- William Toone's Etymological Dictionary of Obsolete Words, 1831.

Spreading the Word

Hi everyone!

Well, today I'm going to talk about a book by self-published author Davin Malasarn. I'd like to say we're friends, but we're not. I'm pretty sure that Davin has never even heard of me. However, I do follow the blog to which Davin contributes. Today I read a post about the upcoming collection Wild Grass and Other Stories that has been released on Amazon.com. It sounds pretty awesome, actually.

Here's a list of some things in the book:

1. a Buddhist exorcism
2. a ghost chase
3. phallocrypts
6. pink dolphins
7. a stomach stapling brochure
8. characters with names like Kalaya and Subscription
9. a Brazilian gold mine

Now, in order to help spread the word about his book, he's holding a competition. Here's how it goes:

Davin's "Spread The Word" Contest

To enter the contest, tell a friend about my book and ask them to e-mail me at dmalasarn (at) gmail (dot) com with the following message pasted in the body of the e-mail:

Dear Davin Malasarn,

I heard about your collection The Wild Grass and Other Stories from S.M. Carrière on sale at Amazon ( http://amzn.to/kwfpap ). I understand that this collection includes your most emotional work and will take readers to exotic locations all around the world.

Signed,
(have them write THEIR name here)

Seems pretty straight forward, right?

This collection does sound really good, and I will be buying it as soon as funds allow (September probably).

Listen, don't just send Davin the email. Buy his book too. While your at it, buy mine.

On that note, here's today's Forgotten English.

Cheating the Devil

Softenings of very profane phrases, the mere euphemisms of hard swearing, as od's blood, dash it, see you blowed first, deuce take it, by gosh and like profane preludes such as boastswains and their mates are wont to use.

- Admiral William Smyth's Sailor's Word-Book, 1867

Dammy boy: an unruly person. In allusion to the habit of excessive use of the word "damn" and general swearing by the man-about town of 16th and 17th cent[urie]s.

- Albert Hyamson's Dictionary of English Phrases, 1922.

Recovering Still

Well, the sunburn has faded, but it still hurts like the dickens. J.M-B., having managed to burn herself while out cycling yesterday, bought some aloe vera gel designed specifically for sunburns. It is a lurid blue colour, and smells faintly of mouthwash, but it works. At least, it did until I picked up my bags...

I'm astounded that I can't really see the burn any more, but it still hurts. Why?

My bruise is now almost entirely brown and takes up much of my forearm. It looks like some demented birthmark. I really wish I could take a photo of it to prove it.

Writing yesterday went alright. I only wrote 1 500 words myself, but the nifty cut and paste function meant that the end daily count was actually 6 000. Stress about money cut my creativity completely, leaving me struggling to redo my budget and wail in despair.

I hate being poor.

I am, however, now 5000 words ahead of today's target, which is a good thing. I'm hoping to write another 3 000 today, but I'm pretty tired, so we'll see if I can manage it.

I should get started, so here's your Forgotten English:

Barrow-Back't

Bent by heavy work such as wheeling loaded barrows.

- Alexander Gibson's Full-Speech of Cumberland, 1880.