What Happened?

I'm moving. To WordPress.

I've long resisted leaving Blogger but everyone says the view is better. If you know me, you know I've never been a fan of one-lump-everyone. Plus, I like it here. 

What happened?

My website swooped in, swept my blog off his feet, and asked My Mother Stuttered to move in down the street. 
The blog's only request is to feel distinctive. To have a room of his own. 

So while the morphing happens offsite, I'll begin my goodbyes to Blogger.

Thank you for being my first. You welcomed me in and let me play with colors like fingerpaints on a wall. 
I stickered you with widgets and rearranged to my hearts content.
You've been a good friend and nice home since 2009. 
Let the sniffing begin.

Lover

The first novel is a powerful teacher - a nurturing lover...

"Take your time,"  Strong Enough said in a soft whisper. "Slow down. Enjoy."

When I was frustrated, I'd pout in a silent corner only to return, hugging the wall, hoping SE wouldn't make me beg. 

"Try again," SE said, turning the light back on.

We fought a few times but I always returned, eager to join our rhythm. Over and over through ups and downs, SE and I moved together.

Once I got near the end, I rushed to release. It wasn't an explosion. More like falling off a short cliff. 

But I lit up. 

SE helped me be strong enough. It showed me the way. Our time together now over, I left for another. I took all that SE taught me - every lesson I couldn't hear before - and learned to slow down each day. To make more minutes count.

As I near the next big release, I know while SE will always be my first, it will not be my last. 

Hello new lover. Let's nurture each other.

Cost of Originality

Recommend you listen to ABBA's "Money, Money, Money" while reading this post.

If you're like me, you have two jobs - one paying and one soon-to-be paying. After covering bills, the second job purchases software, editors, marketing, subscriptions, domains, and lots of paper for the next novel. 

Launching your own business means you have to spend money to make money. But some of us have tight budgets. The trick is not letting a budget cost you your originality.

I'm very fortunate to have in-house talent, but that also means more software, subscriptions, books, and courses. So despite the cost savings of a spousal art department, we must be extra creative. 

The current project is website development. I have a brand style but we're laboring over the hook. After all, the home page is the first sentence. It invites a viewer in to stay and visit. 

So what's on an author's home page? A picture? ... Yeah, well pictures suck.

Like most people, I'm hyper critical of photos of myself. I may be in my secret lair building an octopus to suck you in, but I don't enjoy looking like Frankenstein's monster. Or as if I have a broken neck. Or like my eyes are two different sizes and my gums want to take over New York.

If my picture is out front, not buried on the About Me page, I need to be cooler. While searching for inspiration, I found an amazing drawing by a comic book artist. ME WANT.

Me can't afford.

So what to do?

Make my own drawing. Would it be easier to dig quarters out of all the couches in my neighborhood? (Ding dong - Avon wants to talk to you on the porch while I dig in your living room cushions.) Actually, yes. I could mail a sack of quarters to Mase One and have a beautimous drawing. But I've started down the path of doing it myself (with A TON of help from Hubs/PixelTwister Art Department) and I'm not ready to quit.

Stay tuned for the BIG reveal of our labor of tears, raised voices, explanations in an extra calm voice, and me letting Jreamy do his thang.

Cross your fingers my marriage isn't the cost of originality!

Author Branding - A Consumer POV

Author branding is invaluable but execution of a brand is a lot like finding your unique writer voice. Discovering individuality can mean wading through theory.

I decided to step back from being an author and look at this as a reader. Except as a reader, I don't visit author websites. My generation may be well versed in computers, but we weren't baptized in them. I grew up this way:

Walden Books, early, 1990, Christopher Pike. I read and reread him, dissecting and devouring every nuance and shivery moment with my best friend. We never knew when his next book was coming, so each time we were at the mall, we checked the shelves. We didn't need the newest release--we just wanted one we hadn't read. Each colorful option was like candy for our eyes. 

Okay, so I'm not the best reader reference. Fine. Time for research. When I look at a few big names I consider valuable role models I find sites as exciting as watching a hen on an egg or as crazed as if all the kids at Chucky Cheese just did sour straws like cocaine. 

• Jennifer Weiner blogs every few months to once a year, and the rest of the information is so static, it's a statue. (Since I first compiled this list, she added a media link)
• Meg Cabot has the best combination blog and website but I still find it frenetic
• Sophie Kinsella's is similar to Meg's but not as visually appealing to me--too much white space
• Kristin Hannah's has an IKEA quality. The website is made by a company who doesn't work with self-published authors. I bite my thumb at you.
• Neil Gaiman's site has a hand firmly against my face and says don't come any closer. It informs me that it will take my request and fetch, but do not come in and sit down.



Matchy, Matchy - Bloggy Natchy

• Jim Butcher is cleaner than Meg and Sophie's but I find myself bored before I even start.  

Okay, fine. Back to theories. A blog and website should be seamlessly connected. An All-in-One. My brain translates this as --------------------------->
  
Frankly, I prefer Candice Olson. I view the website as the living room or kitchen--a place to get to know the author and their work. The blog is the game room or private office for interaction and delving deep inside. These spaces should compliment but be distinctive. 

Do I listen to the industry standard and design my author branding by a well established set of successful tips? Or do I let the consumer inside me in on the fun? As writers, we're supposed to celebrate our individual voices. Why wouldn't I do it with my brand as well? 

The worst that can happen is that the industry is right and eventually I'll adhere, but at least I tried to be me.

My 2014 Valentine

Thank you to the people who made me angry in the past.
You challenged me to speak up.

Thank you to the people who love me even if we don't always agree. I cherish you for tolerating my opinion, and now that I have one, I plan to be proud but always, always respectful. 

Thank you to everyone who has believed in me despite my wavering confidence. You rolled your eyes to heaven as I questioned my chances and told myself no. You pulled out your hair as I slid back down, but you never left.

Thank you to the professionals who helped me find my voice. For making me do the work. For making me decide.

Thank you for helping me to be the writer I am today.

Review of "From Notting Hill to Love Actually"

by Tiffany McGee


Frankly, my dear, I DO give a damn. I love Chick-Flicks. I love the idea of happy-ever-after, light-hearted fun, and any other hyphenates you can conjure. Imagine my delight when I stumbled across From Notting Hill with Love Actually by Ali McNamara.

Link to Amazon

From Amazon: Movie fanatic Scarlett O'Brien dreams of a life as glamorous and romantic as all the big screen flicks she worships. When a chance house-sitting on iconic Notting Hill comes along, she knows living in one of her favorite movie settings is an opportunity  too good to pass up.

Leaving behind her skeptical friends, family, and fiance, Scarlett heads to London and finds herself thrust in the lead role of her very own romantic comedy. But can real life ever be just like the movies? Larger-than-life new friends, a handsome but irksome new neighbor, and a mystery from past may prove to Scarlett that living her life like a RomCom is more complicated than she thought!




McNamara weaves details of actors and Hollywood fairy-tales into a bright, funny romance. Making no secret of her love of Chick-Flicks, the author writes a story that's like a secret club - the only membership requirement is a DVD player. Movie references come fast and furious (Ha! One of the few movies not mentioned), and althought Scarlett takes time to explain many of them, a lot are tossed out for the reader to reel in on their own. As I read the story, I cheered whenever Scarlett encountered another RomCOM moment in real life, particularly those she didn't plan. In addition to her own burgeoning romantic comedy, Scarlet searches for her long-absent mother, the woman who imparted our heroine with her name and love of cinema.

In defense of romantic comedy, Scarlett opines:

There's something very comforting about watching a Hugh Grant movie. You know no one's head will be blown off in the first three minutes, no one will be tortured, and the worst thing that might happen is seeing a lanky Welshman eating mayonnaise in his underpants.

As far as I'm concerned, we can all use an escape once in a while, and that is exactly what Ali McNamara delivered.

Permission

I turned a leaf in 2013 by working harder than ever before--hubs is great inspiration--but I used to spoil myself all the time. Want to watch a movie? OKAY. Want a second helping? Come to mama, you glorious extra portion of pasta. Don't want to get up on a weekend morning? Master turning five more minutes into an extra hour and a half. 

After weeks of pushing myself, I took some time off. Except I didn't give myself permission. I snuck it like a child hoping my parents wouldn't notice and believing I got away with it. I was ready with excuses.

"I have a headache."
"I will!" (Use teenage tone of beleaguered angst as if you've done everything ever asked of you and any questioning of your reliability is the greatest insult ever.)
"I have to clean first," says no one genuinely.

Too often I wait to say it's okay until after I've been a grump. You must give yourself permission before otherwise you get pissy. And it leaks. 

This time, I asked my editor for permission in advance. She gave me another week, until February 1. 

I didn't worry about my current novel and a funny thing happened. I wrote blog posts, prepped a short story for a literary journal, discovered the back story for my next novel, and invested time in marketing. And it didn't feel like work. 

It's been one week and instead of feeling guilty or annoyed, I'm refreshed.

Why Did You Write Your Book?

I'm reading, APE: Author, Publisher, Entrepreneur - How to Publish a Book by Guy Kawasaki and Shawn Welch, and chapter one throws out a doozy of a question. "Why should anyone give a shiitake about your book?"

I have an answer. 

I just don't share it. 

Even now my heart thumps. Hook it to a sub-woofer and the windows would rattle. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

I began writing Strong Enough to get the babbling out of my head. After the first disastrous draft, I set it aside without an ending and returned to observing.

Until I found a cause. Something lacking within story.

A voice.

For women.

Who choose abortion.

Over 50 million abortions have happened since Roe vs. Wade but in most movies or novels she keeps the baby. 

Abortion is a topic with T-n-T strapped to its chest. Some want to fist-pump it. Others want to abolish it. While in the vast middle, millions of women sit before TVs or books and wonder, "Am I alone?"

Whitney walks in these women's shoes. She tells their private story that is neither left nor right. She holds their hand and tells them, "I understand."





And now for a song. Hat-tip to author Suanne Bierman Laqueur for this special gem and its fabulous place in High Fidelity. 
DJ Whit approves.
Just a taste of "Dry the Rain" by the Beta Band

Nicknames

Of all the stories I've written, not one character has a nickname. Sure Whitney becomes DJ Whit, but that was an echo of her progression and who influenced her. I'm talking about affectionate and personal names we call people whom we love.

Ruboes and Elbows

I come from a long line of interesting moniker-makers and was shaped by one of the masters. Random sampling from my Dad's arsenal: Mighty Mouse (his mother), Edger, Digger, Moses, Tooz, Peetees, Bear Cat, Gar-Burger, Ruboes, Mugly Utt, Catarino LaVinciano - aka Trina.

A sampling of my winners: Rosasita-B-Lizzie-Tishie-Tushie-Face, Ra Ra, Reesetofarian, Keatonian, SuPu, Jreamy, Clonater, Goober, Mulah/Moneybags (interchangeable for parents), Booger, Nutt Butt, Woman, Short Ones.

As much as I've borrowed from my life to write stories, I never tapped into this well until The

Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones. One particular character had to be Vee. Her formal name changed a couple times but that's how I thought of her. Vee. She's an interesting character because her essence came fully formed. I assigned specific attributes from people I knew but Vee was always her own person--always a beacon of positive thinking.

Once I let out one nickname, another untapped well opened. Even though all my pets have enjoyed gajillions of nicknames, I, a bonafide dog lover, never included a Mugly Utt in a story.  WTH? 

Then the perfect mate padded into the story of Gillian--a mutt mix of my own Wee Reese, Huero and Keaton combined to make lovable Buster. It was a joy writing this character. As a dog, he represents pure love--able to overlook all character flaws. As a friend, he shows Gillian how to open up again.

In future writings, look for more nicknames, pets and nicknamed pets. I can't close the wells.

Keatonian

Reestofarian

I Did It

Mad Scribbler here with some news. There's a big review coming.

Jen Blood, an author I deeply admire, reviewed Strong Enough (to be shared soon). Her enthusiasm blew me away. She used words like "love" and "want" (as in "I want the play list for the whole damn book.") 

Available on Amazon and B&N.com

WOW. My play list? 

Listen guys, if that was it, I wouldn't be sharing here. I'd let my chihuahua lick my wounds (she does everything else). Jen's response sent me pirouetting through the house. I'll let her share in her words. For now I'll savor the play list reaction because...

I did it. I successfully wove music into a novel. 

How the essence of music makes us feel, how it transcends or defines mood is what I aimed to capture. And to do it without knowing how to write or evaluate music added to the pressure. 

Except for being a dork, I am no William Miller (Almost Famous), so I was a bit anxious.

Deeanna Danger was a major score for my confidence. I searched for a blogger with music chops. Her review confirmed my research and hard work succeeded musically. 

But Jen's statement confirms that as a writer I pulled off something I was told I couldn't do. 

During a novel course, I was told to stop including lyric excerpts. Sound advice. It's cheating as well as poking a well-sharpened No.2 pencil into the eye of a fierce beast capable of eating me alive. Poke. Poke. Poke. ROWWRRRR. Boom, I'm consumed.

It wasn't just a legal warning, though. I was told it was naive to try and incorporate popular music. If I gave up this cheesy, newbie desire I'd be a real writer.

I was not discouraged. I kept trying methods until I evaded the music dragon to claim my prize: a novel with a sound track. 

Knowing I created a play list Jen Blood wants... 

I did it.

On Oscar's Nob: Ma's Lye

Ma had nerves of steel. She was orphaned at seven and worked in an uncle's home until fifteen when a boy six years older took her to be his. Wilbur, Nettie, and Ray died as babies, but with a farm to run and plenty of living children to tend, grief was an indulgence, action was necessary and family was grace.

Rising before dawn, Ma's day started at the stove. Fuel had to be chopped and gathered by the boys before school. Buckets of water were carried up the hill to a big iron pot for laundering clothes. Fire under the black belly boiled stink from rough cloth as lye soap dissolved dirt. Clothes were stirred, scrubbed, rinsed, rung, and hung no matter how hot or cold the air might be. Ma's hands were red raw. 

She often said, "Poor doesn't have to look poor." Using a triangular flatiron heated on the stove, she pressed pride into dresses and collars.

Mrs. Lemuel Smith courtesy freepages.history

Washing was done outside but other chores were done in the main room of the house on the hill. Food was constantly cooking to provide for the day and week. Toil in the garden began with sowing and yielded canning and preserving for the cold season. No day was without cleaning, baking, sewing, and the unexpected. 

Ma's ninth baby, Hannah, was alone for a moment. Old enough to walk and talk, she knew Ma scooped bright white flakes from the forbidden bucket of lye. Safe in the place of food, a tiny hand lifted a bite into her mouth.

And then she screamed.

Out tending the wash, Ma didn't need to see -- the anguished cry told her exactly what happened. She didn't flutter her apron and scream for help. They were three miles up an Appalachian hill, far from any road. She ran to the kitchen, scooped lard from a tin and swiped the baby's mouth clean.

Not a speck was swallowed, the deadly bits grabbed by thick, white fat. Hannah's tongue was scarred but it was a small price to pay. Ma held her second youngest tight, an infant boy the only other Oscar home, and thanked the Lord for his mercy and grace. 



fun link to lye soap: 

Double Entendres Boost Post Views

It's an awesome marketing tool. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), I did it on accident. Twice.

Like many bloggers, I'm intrigued by which posts have the biggest draw. I wrote a loving tribute about ice cream and Italy that remains my most viewed. Wonder why?

Let's play a word game. Since I'm the only one present as I type, I'll provide a title and then answer with the first thought that comes to my mind. My mind.

Title: A Double Magnum Night

Answer: Ice Cream!

Yeah, you can see how I got in a pickle with that one. 

One more word game to capture my naivete. 

Title: Super Tool

Answer: Scrivener! Why, what did you think?

What can I say? I rock the double endentre. And both posts remain my biggest features. 

It's something to think about. 

Now pardon me while I go play with my super tool to perfect my *techinique while enjoying a double magnum day. 


* Yeah, Techniques is my 3rd most visited post. <shrug>

A Sample

I'm in a pure writing mood. I want to be alone in my writer's cave composing words set to emotion. Here is a sample I'm editing for a short story collection:

Letting Go

Wax drips down the candle’s side and merges with a dry vein. My nose is inches from the creamy whiteness and my chin rests on the nest my arms create as I engage in a staring contest with the flame. It sputters. I blink. Contest over.

The pupil is a dazzling gold, piercing my thoughts with its hot fury. As another drip topples over the rounded edge, the lip of its eye, a thought pulses in my cranium -- candles cry. 

Is that why we use them? They have no voice but what an emotional presence they emit as their waxy tears fall for all at weddings, birthdays, funerals. Their sulky, dark emotion is great on heavy days, rain or no rain.

I sigh. My breath chastises the flame. Or maybe flame and breath dance. It depends on my mood. Damn. I’m feeling poetic again.

My mother would chastise me for sitting too close to the flame. “Don’t sit so close. You’ll burn your bangs.” I consider the sharp smell and brittle sensation.  

If I were in a musical right now, the bluesy music would drift from somewhere deep within my subconscious, very low and very slow. My solo would be the Blue Funk. Even the lights would be blue. When the beat picked up and strengthened, a dance crew would join me. At the end I would sit alone, staring into the audience with my pseudo-blue face. 

I laugh out loud. "Leave the musicals to Andrew Lloyd Webber," I say, talking to the painting, the dust, whatever is listening.

My laugh batters the flame, breaking my trance. My eyes hurt. I’ve been watching the candle for an hour until my retinas slowly seared. I blow out the flame. Time to put on my dress. 

No. The dress. 

It’s not mine to possess.

My First Ever Writing Conference

Saturday, September 21, 2013, I will attend my first writers conference -- the Ozarks Romance Authors Annual Conference held in Springfield, MO.

Click to buy

I'm a volunteer (assisting with the author tables), am scheduled for an author headshot, and will pitch Strong Enough to Samhain Editor and Author, Holly Atkinson. I am very, very excited. Excited enough to be there at seven am. And I don't usually get up for work before seven am so that shows how excited I am.

The opportunity to meet fellow authors, new and established, thrills me. I'll be swimming in peers until I'm wrinkled with comradarie. 
(Don't look at me like that. I met some of the attendees at the monthly Ozarks Romance Authors meeting. These writers know how to push their work and still support others.)

Saturday will also be my first ever face-to-face pitch for my writing. Expectations aside, I'm focused on doing my absolute best -- start with that and then take it from there. 

To learn more about this wonderful event, here's a great news-release.

Now, back to working over my 30-second, elevator pitch for both Strong Enough and The Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones -- because you can never be too prepared!

Cheers!



Will it be the end for this author photo? Looking forward to my session with Sharon...

Fortune Teller Blog Hop

Kayla Curry's writing prompt made me smile and I immediately wrote a scene. Here's the gist: place one of your characters (published or not) in a scene with a fortune teller.

This is a moment with my protagonist Gillian from the not-yet-released Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones:

My friend Veronica meets me at the fortune teller, bouncing like a puppy. “I’m so excited. I’ve heard this woman is really good.”

I let a smile slip loose. She actually believes this stuff. “All right, you got me here," I say. "Let’s get this over with.”

Being a TV addict, I have a clear vision of how the room will look. Sheer cloths draped over lampshades, colorful rugs, crystal fringe, and red velvet darkness — to juice the aura.

But the foyer lets me down. It’s hardwood floors, wood trim, white walls and lots of light. It could be a law firm. The banister is old, probably original to the house. A crystal pendant draped like a necklace around the neck of the newel post redeems my expectations a little.

Madame Rena doesn’t disappoint. Her flowing garment, a colorful arrangement of diaphanous hankies, billows away from her body as if she’s a grandmotherly changeling. “Welcome. How can I assist you today?”

She has a throaty voice, the requisite hush tone and soothing alto.

Veronica answers first. “I’m dying to have my palm read.”

Rena nods then turns to me and says, “And you? What do you want?”

Like two magnets repelling, my eyes slip and slide from Rena’s gaze. Are her eyes purple? They must be contacts.

“I guess I want, well, I think I’d like to do the… um… palm reading. As well.” I feel so transparent I could be a ghost.

“Excellent. Who will be first?”

“Can we go together?” asks Veronica.

“No. I think we should respect one another’s privacy.” The heavy pull of her purple irises lingers on my eyes. “The readings will be purer.”

“Well, then my friend should go first.”

The moment pauses as if we're all suspended, caught on the inhale of the Universe and held. 

Never able to stay still long, Veronica says, “Her name is Gillian.”

Oh yes, my name. That would be good.

Rena motions for me to follow her. Through the requisite beaded curtain I discover my expectations — a round oak table and crystal ball. But instead of red, the room is cool with blues and crystals. None hang as fringe or in ropes like gaudy pearls. They’re groups of unfinished clusters. A sweet smell, not cloying like incense, tickles a sneeze from me.

“It’s sage,” says Rena. “I cleansed the room of negative energy.”

I don’t know how to respond other than to ask if it’s organic so I keep my mouth shut and take a seat, waiting for her to begin chanting.

“I don’t have to look at your palm to know you’re in love.”

I’m unimpressed. Love. That’s what she offers me? “I’m getting a divorce,” I say.

“Tsk.”

She actually makes a sound with t s and k. I can’t stop the eye-roll.

“Don’t offer me information. I can see you’re skeptical. Maybe a little hostile?”

She contemplates me like a ripe melon at the grocery store. “It’s strange. The love is new yet woven into your being. It’s fresh but scarred. I’m fascinated.”

“You see that, huh? My aura?” I emphasize the syllables as ore-uh.

“Yes. And I’ve never seen a soul so clearly entangled with another. You have a soul-mate.” 

Participants: Kayla Curry (Host) 
Alyssa Auch S. M. Boyce N.R. Wick Steve Vernon A. F. Stewart Linda Taylor Tami Von Zalez Quanie Miller Ellen Harger Deborah Nam-Krane Erin Cawood Danielle-Claude Ngontang Mba Wendy Ely Laure Reminick Jen McConnel

COVER REVEAL: The Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones

Here it is, a picture worth a thousand words (or maybe 40k)?

Thank you to PixelTwister Studio for the gorgeous model of a laptop and ring made just for this cover. 

Check it out - I have a branding theme:

TOMORROW - A COVER REVEAL

Curious about The Anonymous Blog of Mrs. Jones?

On Friday 9/13/13 I will reveal the new cover. 

Comments and feedback are highly encouraged and thanks for checking me out.

Cheers,
Ellen

If Jessie's Girl Was A Boy - Songs As Chapter Titles

If Jessie's Girl Was A Boy has been the hardest summary to write and yet it's a light chapter with a fun song. What's up with that? It took several drafts but finally I realized what I needed to write.

thank you tumblr

Once I gave myself permission to make up songs, I wanted to exercise the opportunity. I think that desire forced my only shoot and a miss. Instead of using the original Rick Springfield song, permitting people to connect the ironic dots, I spelled it out. This is the classic blunder of hammering readers over the head, saying See, Jessie is a girl and her boyfriend is being coveted. GET IT? HUH, do ya? 

Did I think the chapter was too sweet and want to add a little edge? I'm not sure. I know I imagined a punk band toying with 80's pop music, making it their own by disembowling the soft, mushy lyrics. I pondered how it would sound. Would the lyrics be a parody? Could Jessie still be a guy? It's an androgynous name, so who's to say. 

For sound, I was thinking of Limp Bizkit's cover of George Michael's "Faith." I love the screaming, raging rendition of that poppy tune. It amazes me how songs can be altered by a different presentation. Chris Cornell's version of Billy Jean is sad--and was a real shocker because I never cared for the original. It sounded petty and self-serving--a guy ducking his responsibility. But Cornell slowed it down, dragged it out and I heard it for the first time. 

However, my imaginary punk band wasn't always doing a cover but often a cruel deconstruction of cute music. I never commondeered the melody and 'Weird Al'd" the lyrics. If I had, I could have used them as a conversation piece in the scene and linked it all together.

Since none of these details appear in the chapter, any play on the title doesn't work. Furthermore, in the diner scene, Jessie's Girl plays as a fun backdrop for Whitney's meet cute with Leah's pick-me-up. Rick Springfield's anthem is straight out of a high school romantic comedy--a perfect accompaniment because the chapter is about Whitney's achingly naive approach to romance.

But the song isn't just about crushes and coveting. It's about the friendship of the singer and Jessie. This line is perfect as the role of Greek chorus:

but lately something's changed

it ain't hard to define

Sure it's a simple scene of Whitney flirting over brunch, but the lyrics above accentuate the real point of the chapter. Something's changed. Love triangles rarely work out for all three. We're at the beginning of an old story with a common conclusion. It's the speed, the turns, the unexpected plunges after incredible highs that make the story unique.

Writing this summary has proven that Jessie's Girl was the best song for the chapter title. What can I say. The point is probably moot.

link

I'd love to know your thoughts on who should do a cover of this iconic 80s song. Please, fill the comments with all your thoughts.

And finally, if you want a laugh, check this out.

In Conclusion - Thoughts on My First Blog Tour

July 1st was the last day of my blog tour organized by Vade Mecum BT. The winners have received their free copies of Strong Enough and I'm wrapping up the mailing of swag.

It's time to think about how my first tour went. Sometimes you just have to pick a life vest and jump in. Chri and Meg of Vade Mecum are lovely women with whom I enjoyed working. They kept me afloat. 

Overall it was successful and I know better what to focus on for future promotions. Meg and Chri worked hard, were always accessible, and provided prompt answers to my questions. However, early on YA got mixed into my description and I believe too many YA bloggers were asked to read my novel. I've nothing against YA but my book doesn't fit that genre. My description was contemporary romance/women's fiction.

I learned from the blog tour, and the subsequent reviews, that New Adult is an interesting genre for Strong Enough. What a great discovery! Chick Lit also works well, but I wasn't surprised by that one. 

In hindsight, I'd pad more prep time to give the author a chance to review the possible blogs. This isn't a thumb or thumb down death sentence so much as a chance to ask if the blogger is fully aware of the material. Nor is this all on Vade Mecum. I asked for a fast turn around and had no ideas how it should come together.

Initially, more reviews were scheduled than happened and a few bloggers didn't follow through. The topic changes were a little frustrating but if a blogger doesn't keep their commitment, that is solely on them. 

Strong Enough received wonderful reviews and was hosted by several exceptional blogs. Honestly, it was pretty wild doing interviews--definitely a learning curve. I thoroughly enjoyed sharing excerpts and creating answers for character interviews. Another blog tour would be fun and worthwhile.

I believe Chri and Meg's fledgling Vade Mecum BT has a lot to offer. These two young women have experience with other tour sites, passion for assisting authors, and an admirable diligence. Vade Mecum will only grow stronger as they continue to strive forward. I happily give my blog tour experience

Thank you ladies of Vade Mecum BT!

Tour Reviews for Strong Enough:

Stephanie of "The Boyfriend Bookmark"

"This book was nothing like what I was expecting. It was a look into the world behind the music on the radio. It was a book about taking chances, starting over, finding yourself and discovering who your friends are."



Rebecca of "Vicariously"

"I'm going to breathe for a minute. I just finished reading this beautiful baby and the nostalgia that's waxing poetic in my head is completely overwhelming."



Brandee of "Bookworm Brandee"

"Strong Enough is a powerful novel. It's a story of self-discovery, of growing up, of changing perceptions and expectations. And it's poignantly told. It was amazing!"



Ellen of "The Canon"

"I feel like Strong Enough is one of those books I will read again and again, mostly because the characters are so extraordinarily vibrant. From the first page, each and every one of them stuck in my mind due to the personalities and traits described through Whitney's eyes."


Angie of "Pink Fluffy Hearts"

"This book was truly a pleasant surprise to me. I was immediately drawn into the novel by the main character, Whitney, and able to relate to her to a big degree. I too, was raised in a small town in the mid-west, and could relate to her 'average'ness, and to her desire to rise above it, start over and create a new life for herself."


Susan of "My Cozy Corner"

"Ellen pens 'Strong Enough' a well written story about making decisions, starting over and friendship. Her main characters were realistic and believable, although there were many characters to follow, I really didn't have much trouble keeping up. A great debut novel that will keep you turning the pages."


Salima of "Salima Korri"

"Reading just the first few chapters grasped my attention immediately. It reminded me so much of the film 'Radio Rebel'.... This book does just that but tells the story from the perspective of an older character, Whitney."