RLLauthor@outlook.com and @RLL_author GO TO AMAZON KINDLE STORE AND TYPE RLL. YOU WILL FIND MY BOOKS.

Sunday 27 April 2014

SELF-PUBLISHING. NO RIVALS HERE. AUTHORS AS COLLEAGUES: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

Recently, I took something I like to think of as TELEPHONE PAIN. It is often pointed out that I have no telephone skills. Oh, I'd have them if forced to make an emergency call.
   I'm a wordy cove,  with a liking for the runes. Sigils. Symbols. Those scribblings are the letters of the alphabet. They come in handy - especially in my line of work.
   Yes, I can deal with audio material when the mood takes me. Check out this FREE SAMPLE for an idea of what I mean. I'll wait here for you.

*

Anyway, I am a writer and like to get things in writing. My default on the phone is #AWKWARD. I tend to listen, absorbing information, while giving out next to nothing.
   That's not a bad thing. The person on the other end of the invisible line may think otherwise.
   In Olden Times, when the streets were sepia-toned and one horsepower was thought sufficient, I had to carry messages by stick.
   These days, using the information super-traffic-jam, I use an electronic wand. E-mail does the job most of the time. If the computer accidentally sends the same e-mail repeatedly, that's neither here nor there.
   Occasionally, a telephone may be called for. Puns are nothing if not groan-inducing.
   And so I found myself lured to the internet with promises of cream cakes and a pleasant time in polite company. Was this likely? I thought not.

*

Thus was I dragged across a shady alley. Coshed and half-awake at a heathenish hour of the night, I wondered about cakes. Bundled into a cab that had seen better days and wealthier clients, I felt the speaking-tube drop into my hand.
   What the red wet fuck is this?
   Ambushed. (I toned down the swearing for this blog.)
   Kacey Vanderkarr invited me to discuss writing. She'd recently published a book. I'd just updated and republished my books. There was a lot going on behind the scenes in our publishing worlds.
   So Kacey offered a Skype chat as a quicker way of dealing with publishing topics. Quicker than using an e-mail. I'd been Skypejacked. Hijacked by Skype.
   Explaining I had no telephone skills, I was fobbed off with the comment that this was no telephone. Why, this was the computer. And she was right. So we talked on the non-phone and my non-skills came to the fore.

*

For those who walked in late, Kacey Vanderkarr lives in the Grand Duchy of Michigania - in a place called Americaland.
   I live in Scotlandia, Realm of the Fantabulous, where the wild haggis threatens to rip the throat of the unsuspecting tourist: just as tax-heavy petrol prices threaten to rip the wallets of unsuspecting Americans.

*

From an American viewpoint, Scotlandia is in the Misty East. Which gives the misty Scottish writer the misty short end of the misty stick, concerning time.
   What was early afternoon in wintry Michigan turned out to be the howling bat-strewn spring night across much of Scotlandia. I'd removed my watch as a precursor to heading for bed.
   Coshed and dumped in front of a hi-tech phone, I reasoned it best not to return for my watch - lest I discover the actual time of night.
   And so.
   Kacey and I entered into a transatlantic business conversation. Occasionally, her young son would interrupt with helpful advice on how to best defeat a snake or aid his mom with the dreaded workout.
   Her husband Jon floated by, using cat-like ninja skills to silently whittle logs into furniture. True story.
   And we had a business-meeting. Publishing was discussed. The writing of things. Cover design. Choices we make in publishing. Bullshit within the industry.
   Unfortunate things. Amazing items. Could we gang up on Amazon and force Amazon to change awkward stuff for us? The answer to that last one is a resounding YES.
   There's a place inside Amazon's Kindle bookshelf for contacting the mighty company. If enough authors write in on a certain topic, Amazon notices. Amazon investigates.
   True, Amazon may not be able to do a damn thing about the item under discussion. But at least the option for discussion exists. We shall test this now.
   Authors. As a body, I say unto ye...
   E-mail Amazon and see if Amazon will give all Kindle authors one free coffee. I'm not saying that's going to work. But I am saying authors should have a sense of humour about the job.
   Swearing also helps.

*

Kacey and I discussed double-standards in Big Publishing. Sharp ways. Corner-cutting. Deviousness. Charlatanry. And the amazing fact that shit rolls downhill from big publishing houses into the laps of indie authors.
   What's sauce for the conventional publisher is denied the indie circuit. As an indie author, I recognise 53 varieties of that shit. I have written a monograph on the subject. Watson, if you would be so kind...
   Here's the thing. We don't care about that shit. The shit we care about. We're too busy having fun in the mud to notice the dung.
   Hey. At least I sparkle when I'm trashy.

*

Today I decided to advance myself a million dollars for a Kindle book I'll write one day. I can do that. In my mind. For I write fiction. That's an author-thing. Deal with it.
   I wonder if anyone takes the news of advance money seriously. It's in a newspaper. Look. News. From a publisher. The publisher has advanced a sexy author a six-figure sum for her first novel.
   Yawn. Publishing bullshit. Does anyone sit up and take notice of that guff?

Point one. Six is also a six-figure sum. So cut the bullshit and list the exact fucking number.

Second point? A publisher's idea of sexy as conveyed to and through a journalist does not sexy make.

Point three. The reading audience has no chance with that sexy author. If the entire reading audience has a chance with that sexy author, I'm guessing she sparkles when she's trashy. Unless she's just trashy.

Fourth point. Her first accepted novel. Maybe not the bog-roll-wad she wrote half a decade before.

Moot point. She doesn't earn the advance money in a lump. The company dishes the cash in homeopathic doses, over gelatinous time. Hurdles must be crested for the spreading of cash.

*

And so on. Publishing bullshit. Well, Kacey Vanderkarr took a business call and we ranted. But that isn't the point of contact with authors. We also exchanged hints and tips. Semtex is my explosive of choice. Kacey has a thing for axes in the woods.
   We outlined changing publishing plans. For we operate in a changing industry. At no time did Kacey share her secret sauerkraut recipe with me. For my part, I didn't mention that thing.
   You know. THAT thing. Just...no.
   In truth, at no time did we operate as rivals. There was much humour. And some astonishment at the extent of her husband's sofa-whittling skills.
   He should put in for the Olympics. Seriously. The Grand Duchy of Michigania is fielding its own team, next time out. I'm not saying that's secessionist. But it is.
   Kacey was more than happy to share the inside skinny on her top-secret publishing schemes. Maybe things would work out. At worst, she'd learn something didn't work for her. It could work for me, and was shared for that reason.
   We don't have secret recipes. As authors, our ideas are not unique. You can't copyright an idea. Anyone can write a killer lobster invasion romantic comedy.
   Killobinromcom.

*

I feel I must apple-ologise to Canadian author K. Woodward. Why? Good question. I don't know why. This blog post was set up over a period of days.
   In the section on blog labels, I've added Amazon Kindle, Kacey Vanderkarr, and K. Woodward. Yet I have made no mention of the latter in the earlier section of this post.
   Now I've added Conan Doyle.
   I am sure I was building thematically to talking about K. Woodward as a colleague. For those who came in late, she is from Canada. As a Canadian citizen, she is legally obliged to have her taxes done in Moose Jaw.
   She takes 31% of the blame for this blog, for she is the author, the colleague, who told me to write a blog. I may have invented that bit about Canadian taxes and Moose Jaw.
   Elk Elbow Lake sounds more like the place I had in mind.

*

Sometimes, blog posts are fractured. This is one of those splintered articles. I've looked at changing publishing plans. This year, the plan is to have no plan. Take opporchancities as they come to me. And I've done that.
   I never imagined I'd be on the phone to Kacey, over in Americaland. (Mainly as a genuine phone conversation would have cost the same as a nuclear bomb. We cheated, and used Skype.)
   Brutal honesty? I never imagined I'd follow K. Woodward's advice, and go blogging in the woods. I mean that in an internet sort of woodland sense.
   Whatever that means. Like a genuine stand of trees, but without wasting paper. It's all done electronically. Someone has to shout non-timber, every single time a Kindle book is published.
   Of course I have plans. Stay tuned.


Sunday 20 April 2014

KACEY VANDERKARR. REFLECTION POND. STORY CARTEL - AN EXPERIMENT: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

My writer friend (and part-time serial killer) Kacey Vanderkarr is experimenting with a review site called STORY CARTEL. She's in the Young Adult section.
   The site offers books free, for a limited period. At the time of this writing, her book is free for another two weeks.
   Check out her comments below. Hit the link for the review site and delve into the Young Adult section. Give Kacey a shot if Young Adult fare is your thing.
   But don't just partake, and don't just review her work alone. We are not rivals here. If you like something else, review that too. Here's Kacey...

*

REVIEWERS GET IT FREE.


Reflection-Pond-ebook-1-VanI’m excited to announce that I’m running a promotion on Story Cartel to get reviews for Reflection Pond. Are you ready to review? Get your copy now! All reviewers between April 15th and May 15th will be entered to win a $25 Amazon gift card. Each review posted gets you another entry. So remember, Amazon, Goodreads, Nook, Library Thing, and Blogs.





Sometimes you find home, sometimes it comes looking for you.

Callie knows a lot more about pain than she does about family. She’s never belonged, at least, not until she falls through a portal into her true home.
   The beautiful faerie city of Eirensae doesn’t come free. Callie must find her amulet and bind herself to the city, and most importantly, avoid the Fallen fae who seek her life. Seems like a small price to pay for the family she’s always wanted.

*

And here's that link again. STORY CARTEL.

SELF-HARM: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

This isn't about self-harm, so why use that title?
   Erotic books. You know. The ones featuring baby seals. Don't stop reading - I will explain.
   Seeing a writer change - and, by that, I mean improve via deathly means. Hang in there. I'll talk about not talking about self-harm shortly.
   Urination. No, I am not taking the piss.
   What's the connection, and why mention self-harm?

*

I don't care about this blog's statistics. The first time the stats were hijacked by spammers, viewing figures lost all meaning. They didn't have much meaning before.
   Occasionally, I'll check in. Understand what's happening, in the world of stats. I can see that someone reached my blog from another blog. Provided no obvious spammer is involved, that means something.
   What, though?
   In the past week, people visited this blog by travelling from all sorts of places. I recognised one blog link from a writer who'd followed me on the Twitter.
   What made someone jump from his blog to mine? Then I remembered I'd gone to that blog myself, and placed a comment on a piece.
   The comment nearer the start of the year made someone curious about me last week. That mysterious person clicked a link leading right to my digital door.
   This post is about blog-traffic. People type phrases into the machine, and a signpost points in my direction.
   I write fiction. So the word BOOKS appears in my blog. I've written the phrase BABY SEAL in a blog post. A mention of the word EROTIC shows you where this conversation is heading.
   Now I am not here to judge anyone who goes hunting for an erotic photography book with seals as the subject-matter. My post was about bludgeoning a baby seal to death on the ice - a symbol. No actual seals died in the making of this or any other blog post.
   Some people search for urine-based text. I don't know why. But I'll remind writers that landscape description should avoid the phrase golden showers of sunlight, lest the scene be misinterpreted.
   I've not used that phrase in my own fiction. Traffic that came here looking for urine was part of a larger search. The item was added to another term featured on my blog, creating an unholy association for Google to deal with.
   A writer changed by deathly means? This was an improvement. I wrote an OBITUARY for Missy Biozarre. She was eaten by zombies, but she's doing fine. Better than before, in fact. Hi, Missy.
   The woman who told me to blog, K. Woodward, is also doing well. Hi.
   Recent traffic showed a search for K. WOODWARD OBITUARY. I didn't think she had died. This was a traffic search that coincidentally combined a name with a term.
   Missy Biozarre's obituary merged with mention of K. Woodward, flagging my blog to someone hunting for another K. Woodward entry.
   I checked for her obituary anyway, just in case. Of those available down the decades, the latest was several years old - indicating the author is still with us.

*

And so, we come to the topic of self-harm fiction. In this case, from the traffic, I saw a search for that - linked to DOCTOR WHO. My blog contains a self-harm trigger warning for the free sample of Mira E.
   That alien invasion story starts with two self-harmers in post-Watergate America, having a conversation just before uncanny activity warps reality.
   So. Yes. I've written self-harm into fiction. That's not quite the same thing as self-harm fiction. That, I don't write.
   There's a free DOCTOR WHO novel on this blog. Once again, a search term gathered different strands of my writing and linked them to lead someone here.
   If you want to scour for information on self-harm, on countering it, dealing with it, that's good. Regularly, people come to this blog after typing SUICIDE.
   HERE'S A BLOG POST ABOUT THAT.
   I don't know why folk come here after typing SUICIDE and clicking on the link to my blog. And I don't know why someone would come here looking for self-harm fiction.
   People could visit the SUICIDE blog post for many reasons. Maybe these people lost someone, and they want to find out more or understand something.
   Anyway, I must be thoroughly evil now and say...
   If you came here looking for posts about suicide or self-harming, go to YouTube and check out Melissa C. Water. She is a mental health activist on YouTube. Hi, Melissa.
   MELISSA C. WATER.
   Maybe you came here looking for help. Help was given, in the form of a link.
   If you came here hunting for hints and tips on self-harm, I can give you one handy piece of advice: seek help. It's not what you want to hear? Hey, you clicked on my blog. We're strangers. I gave you the best advice you'll get. Seek help.
   Thank me later.
   I can offer no advice to those with an interest in erotic seal photography. Google is your friend.

Sunday 13 April 2014

TRANSPARENCY IN SELF-PUBLISHING. BLURB. WORD-COUNT. REVISION: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

E-books have advantages and disadvantages. It takes a hardback book to swat a cobra.
   I tell potential purchasers how long my books are. This information goes into the blurb - Amazon's product description. I use snippets of blurb in the back matter.
   What's that? A fancy term for the end of the book. This is where I'll dump my ALSO AVAILABLE section. A home from home, for snatches of blurb.
   Blurb has always been a tough proposition, as a piece of writing - not just as a dollop of reading.
   Give away no twists. Tell the audience nothing and enough. Do this on an imaginary postcard.
   You aren't writing a trilogy, in scribbling blurb. So, yes, pretend you are writing a postcard.
   Dear Readers. Wish you were here.
   Into the mix, I drop a sane dose of transparency. Plots may not be for all tastes, but the word-count is the word-count. Novels or collections run to at least 100,000 words. If I bundle a novel with notes, I'm aiming to write a story that's at least 75,000 words.
   My FICTION FACTORY stories are cheaper than the regular books, with a minimum length of 30,000. (The upper-limit is 50,000.)
   Recently, in reviewing blurb, I realised one book carried word-count info that was ambiguous.
   Always revisit your self-published books. Look at covers, pricing, blurb, content, and in the cupboard under the stairs.
   Read what you've written. Notice what we think you imagined you meant when you wrote that bit there. Realise you meant something else. Revise. Update.
   The blurb lets readers know what's for sale. That book's product description wasn't written on a postcard. The word-count listed in the blurb is straightforward. I wrote what I meant. But, in self-publishing, you must work across all your products. Aim for consistency. Transparency.
   Clarity.
   In one case, I accidentally threw in a note of ambiguity. I had to fix that. And the fix was easy. Add two words. Sorted. But...
   That vague blurb was used in all the other books, in the ALSO AVAILABLE section. Back matter matters. I had to update every book.
   So I did.
   The mass-update was an opporchancity, and I took it. Even though I'd recently updated my products, and thought there wasn't much to go over again...
   I knew the Universal Truth. There's always one more thing to do. I added a request at the end of my books. Nothing grand. I asked people who made it that far to write honest reviews on Amazon.
   Not just for me, but for all authors out there.
   As with letting readers know the word-count, in the name of transparency, it's important to inform the customers of the review-policy.
   In the name of transparency? I want honest reviews. You can read my take on that at the end of any one of my books. In the interests of transparency, that was a plug.
   Write your story. Edit your story. Publish your story.
   And...
   Revisit your published books. Update details. Fix glitches. But do not summon me to your neighbourhood with a rifle. Do not fucking rewrite the fucking plot of your fucking book once it is fucking published.
   I tone the swearing down in these blogs, for the adults in the audience. If you must rewrite something so drastically that it becomes something else, then let it be something else.
   Write another book. With another title. Transparently.

*

There's a contact e-mail listed twice on this blog. That's for transparency, too.
   It leads to the receipt of official e-mails about all the fantastic tax rebates and upgrades the government owes me.
   Occupational hazard of being a writer. Having one monolithic government department write to me from half a dozen different e-mail addresses.
   In the interests of transparency, I block spammers and scammers. My policy is as transparent as their fakery. Sani Abacha makes regular appearances in my in-box too. I still don't want to help his relatives unlock the missing squillions. Just sayin'.

*

Eventually, I revised this blog post and altered a few others. I decided one book, Mira E., should be exclusive to Amazon. Had to remove a blog post from here and a sample chapter as well. So many loose ends, though. Clarity goes with simplicity. Sometimes it's easier to snip loose ends than to tie them together. Lesson learned.



  
  
  

Monday 7 April 2014

EMERGENCY BLOG POST NUMBER THREE. DIVE, DIVE, DIVE! TORPEDOED BY KACEY VANDERKARR: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

I just discovered that I've been booted out of an aeroplane into clear blue sky. The rest of this blog post will be spent checking for a parachute.
   Who did this to me? Kacey (insert expletives here) Vanderkarr. She just blogged about me, and left me flapping in the breeze. I'll do something a bit different...
   Yes. I'll publish this post now, and continue writing. Kacey is part of some cult called a blog hop. At the last second, she ambushed me with kindness and praise and all that evil stuff.
   Readers of her blog have been steered to my café, in anticipation of GOOD EATS. (See any Harold Lloyd film for details.) I must now frantically scramble literary eggs.
   Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. Abnormal service will be resumed shortly.

*

Well, this is a first. Publishing the blog - going live - and then publishing more of the blog post as the world turned. Readers who came late to the show, you'll just have to take my word for it. That asterisk was your signpost of events in the dim and distant.
   Onward.
   Must be a change in the weather. I’ve been bombarded from all sides by people telling me how nice I am. Maybe someone will come along and accuse me of being a grumpy bastard.
   Take Kacey Vanderkarr, for example. If you were steered here from her blog, you'll know that I am Scottish. How Scottish? Really grumpily Scottish.
   It is never difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine.
   P.G. Wodehouse was not wrong.
   I am grumpy. A professional curmudgeon. Kacey Vanderkarr would have you believe otherwise. (Insert expletives here.) Apparently, I drive her crazy with this whole writing nonsense nonsense.
   Why? How? Oh, I do outrageous things.
   For example. I tell her she can write, and that she has to publish her work - just in case she's swept up in a Zombie Apocalypse. That drives her crazy. How crazy?
   Crazy enough to publish. Here's a link.
   KACEY'S FIRST BOOK.
   Is that crazy enough? No. She likes to embarrass me, she says. How? Oh, by throwing a dedication my way. Here's a link.
   KACEY'S SECOND BOOK.
   On her blog, Kacey says I teach her things about writing. As authors, we are in this business to learn stuff. We'll learn by looking out the window, or staring inward to the heart of darkness.
   And we'll learn stuff by researching. Reading books. Trawling websites. Talking to other authors. I learn from Kacey, from Missy, and other writer contacts too numerous to bribe.
   Writers are not rivals.

*

Ow.
   I've been sapped over the head and dumped into this blog hop. Which means answering four questions. Is there no end to the torture?

1. What am I working on?

More than one book at once, as usual. I'm dividing my time between JAPANESE MONSTERS and many other things.
   JAPANESE MONSTERS is a tale of demonic possession, betrayal, and supernatural spookiness in Old Japan. Expect a dash of Lafcadio Hearn, a hint of Akutagawa, and a hefty dose of Kurosawa. What's not to love?




2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I don't know, for a rather obvious reason. To write in a genre, read outside the genre. (This is what Kacey means when she says that I drive her crazy with writing help.)
   If you've never had this advice handed to you before, here it is. On a plate. With yummy sprinkles. Get stuck in. Read outside your chosen area.

3. Why do I write what I write?

I must write. Writing is breathing for scribblers.

4. How does my writing process work?

I could stop to analyse that. Hmm. I'm sure the process would fall apart if I tried to dissect it. However, as you are here looking for substance...
   Come up with an idea. Write it down. Worry about fixing things later. Right now, let the words flow like molten lava. There's a time for editing. A special time. Called LATER. That's a technical term. Remember it.
   Editing? Look for typos, formatting glitches, gremlins, continuity errors, and holes in the plot. Fix all that stuff. Don't rewrite your story. Trust to your gut. Stick with that instinct.
   Endless rewriting leads to endless rewriting. Skip that madness. Develop the ability to cut loose of your story. Wave it goodbye. Treat it like a cake in the oven. Cook it. Remove it from the oven. Slice and serve. Write another tale.

*

At this point, I'm supposed to hand the hopping blog over to some people. They were too busy to participate. But you can still visit places on the internet.
   Try here. E.B. Black. She just moved house, and is about to get married. Which is why she won't be answering the four questions above. E.B. BLACK.
   Or here. Chris McMullen. He's teaching physics as I speak. The founder of READ TUESDAY has been putting out valuable blogs on the writing game. CHRIS MCMULLEN.
   No blog for this next one. Instead, there's a video station, broadcasting to the world. Melissa C. Water is a mental health activist on YouTube. MELISSA C. WATER.

*

It remains only to invite writers reading this to mention Kacey Vanderkarr and drop links back the way, if you feel like answering those four questions. Here they are again, for ease of copying and pasting...

1. What am I working on?

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

3. Why do I write what I write?

4. How does my writing process work?

Sunday 6 April 2014

OFTEN, READERS JUST HAVE TO LUMP IT. NARNIA RAISED THIS POINT: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

In an earlier blog post, I wrote of posts that never make it to the blog. They are unfinished or unfinishable. I wasn't planning on using this material. Plans change.

*

Writers make mistakes.
   I'm not talking about typos. No. (I tend to type thongs when I reach for the word things. That is a keyboard layout problem. Also, something to do with wildly flailing fingers.)
   Mistakes.
   If you send a woman into a scene with one name and she exits stage-left under another name, your reason for this had best be plot-driven.
   I was thinking about the second woman as I typed up the first woman's adventures. The scene itself involved a woman and a man. Luckily, I nailed the error.
   Yes, I find myself drawing diagrams to help me through the madness of steering characters across the vast plain that is the story.
   Stick-figures will ALWAYS be in fashion.

*

Clive Staples Lewis. Lewis calls police. Clive is arrested.
   Lewis wrote all sorts of stuff. He is best-remembered for his books about Narnia. Characters from one world journey to another, and have adventures.
   Perhaps this is what Lewis did, moving from Belfast to England. He journeyed to another world and had adventures, carrying scraps of the earlier world with him.
   That is neither here nor there.
   In telling tales of Narnia, he did something that many readers think of as a big mistake. Characters have access to Narnia. They don't reach the magical place by the same means each time. Also, there's a shifting roster of participants in the tales.
   If you haven't read the stories, I'll gloss over that ending.
   But I'll talk about a side-point that features in the story. One character, Susan, let's call her the sensible one, doesn't turn up in the last book.
   She is no longer a friend of Narnia. Her access to the place is gone. Susan became too sensible to believe in Narnia. It was all just a silly game of childhood pretence.

*

Writers make mistakes. Readers do so, too. To what extent?
   The writer creates a tale.
   Once that tale flies free into the world, it is open to interpretation. The writer has to lump it. However...
   There may be things in that tale the writer determines as fixed. Immovable. Beyond wild interpretation. Often, readers just have to lump it. Narnia raised this point.
   Readers thought Susan was somehow banished from Narnia. She'd fallen from grace, committed some crime, discovered nylons and lipstick and invitations...
   Lewis received letters. He did his best to answer the point about Susan. Was she sent to hell? No. Did she ever reach Narnia again? He hoped so.
   Lewis talked of having to write a different kind of book for a tale featuring a grown-up sensible Susan. The writer always has a treasure-store of other considerations when it comes to writing a story. Those considerations don't feature in every story. Not enough time.
   Sensible Susan. Well, going by the book she doesn't feature in, she's silly when no longer believing in Narnia - for she's turned to the sensible world of another reality.

*

I ran out of steam, stopped, and turned to another blog post. What was I trying to get at? In Neon Gods Brought Down by Swords, I gleefully murdered a few fantasy standards.
   Sword-wielding male mercenary teams up with female enemy to thwart greater threat. Does he end up in bed with her? No. Readers may bitch about that.
   They just have to lump it. I took that lesson from Narnia.
   And the sequel to Neon Gods...
   Is set at the same time. As is the sequel to that book. So the villain from part one is not brought to book in part two. Or part three.
   Sometimes readers just have to lump it. What appears to be a mistake is down to planning. The reader may feel this is mistaken planning.
   At which point, my advice to the reader is...write your own books. I encourage you to.
  
  
  





Wednesday 2 April 2014

MY PALOMA PICASSO MOMENT: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

Let's talk about Paloma Picasso.
   I know. That's just me. The way I process information. Anyway, I don't just make this stuff up. It's true that I do make stuff up, but all kinds of source material is swirling around.
   There are semi-deliberate decisions. Often I find I make a choice based on three or four sources hanging out as part of some random coincidence.
   Flying in loose formation.
   I just note coincidence and plan accordingly.


*

One of Picasso's many children, Paloma is the character most people remember out of that crowd.
   She's one-point-five of those types with a sense of inherited fame hanging around her - that's neither one thing nor the other.
   Paloma is remembered for something that she always does, except when she doesn't.
   And though that has nothing to do with me, it's one of those scraps of info that I filed away and made use of in another area entirely.
   Yes, Paloma is known as Picasso's daughter. But there's something else she is really really known for.

   Lipstick.
   She doesn't always wear lipstick. I guess she could actually sleep in it, but, ew, poor pillows. If she uses pillows.
   Okay. She doesn't always wear the slap. But she's known for the particular shade of red when she does slip into lipstick. That red shade, according to what I heard, is always the same.

   If you dig deeper into that story it's not true, of course. She tried many red lipsticks, and went for fire-engine red as much as possible.
   The brand changed. And the shade varied. But the lipstick was red.
   Paloma tried different shades until she came up with her own. What else to call it, but Mon Rouge. These are the things I heard about Paloma Picasso.

   She wore specific fire-engine red in-your-face lipstick - which is the point, we must suppose.
   Picasso eventually wore one shade of red - her own product - and much of the marketability came from the designer's making use of t
hat lipstick and no other.
   You could argue that everything manufactured is of limited edition...
   Earth milk from this planet's moo-cows is a limited product. Once the planet dies, that's probably it for moo-cow products. Unless we export ourselves to other worlds.

   But the milk just won't be the same, will it? Even moo-cows that evolve on far-flung worlds won't produce our stuff. It could be chemically similar, but humans are built to complain about how things just aren't the same.
    Everything is of limited edition.
   And so it was, is, with Paloma's specific red lipstick. It's not manufactured now. Once she started wearing one specific shade of lipstick, designed by her own mind, she stuck with it.

   What does she do, now? She has her own private stock. As long as that lasts, and as long as she lasts, she'll wear the same shade of lipstick.
   It's red.
   I kept this in mind. No, I don't wear red lipstick - or any other kind - in case you were about to laugh as you asked.




*

Paloma did her own thing.
   I took that lesson in lipstick and applied it to my presence on book covers. Let's stick with red and talk about periods. If you mention periods to me, you provide menstrual imagery.

   Blood. Life-cycle. Red. However, your decidedly American origin indicates you might be discussing full stops.
   These handy dots at the end of sentences.
   I can't say how I jumped from Paloma Picasso's lipstick to full stops. 
The story stayed with me, and I eventually applied some essence of it to thoughts on book covers.
   What do I always do on my book covers? I use full stops. Because full stops aren't generally used on book covers.

   This is a deliberate design decision, at odds with the world of books. And it's all Paloma's fault.
   Though I must take the blame.
   You'll see the punctuation on a book by E.L. Doctorow, L. Frank Baum, or Dorothy L. Sayers. That's about it as far as usage goes. I wanted to do my own thing.

   A Paloma lipstick thing. So I experimented and settled on this business with the full stops.
   For consistency, I apply the full stop to author name and to book title - whether the book title is a complete sentence or not.



*

I want this Paloma Picasso moment on my book covers. My demands aren't that outrageous. Full stops with everything, courtesy Paloma Picasso's lips.