Self Published Sunday Welcomes Sallie Lundy-Frommer!

Today's guest is Sallie Lundy-Frommer.  She is the author of Yesterday's Daughter and hosts a blog Sallie's Book Reviews and More  (You should definitely check it out!)  

I'll let Sally tell you a bit about herself:

I was born on a farm in the rural South to a family of migrant farm workers. In fact, my family is huge.  Some might call it a clan…:-)  I’m the youngest of 10 children.  Yup, I have six brothers and three sisters.  And yes, holidays are a zoo….

Anyway, at an early age, my family moved to the urban Northeast. No more running in the cotton fields for me….:-)

I now live in the suburban Northeast with my husband and a large assortment of plants. I don’t have any children but as you can well imagine, I have tons of nieces and nephews. 

As for my education, I was the first in my family to go to college.  I hold bachelors and masters degrees in Human Resource Management.  But I have nieces and nephews working on PhDs.  Way to go kinfolks!!!!

I guess that’s enough for now.  I hope you’ve enjoyed a peek into my world.

Book Blub

Yesterday’s Daughter is full of suspense and surprises as the plot develops. It holds a mirror to contemporary society so we can consider our feelings about people who seem different from us, the assumptions we may make about other groups, and the consequences of those assumptions. Yesterday’s Daughter is an emotionally laden paranormal vampire romance novel woven with layers of betrayal, love and loss. Grace Stone, who later learns her true identity is Sapphira, is a loner who survives abuse in the foster care system after being abandoned as a child. A brilliant student, she escapes from her brutal foster parents as a teenager and creates a life for herself. But, her life is little more than existence; plagued with questions about what she really is, a family that she has never known and the never-ending need to keep her differences hidden. She is alone and lonely, believing it will always remain so until Malachi appears in her life. Malachi, a Guardian of the vampire communities, has searched for his life mate, Sapphira, for decades. He refuses to cease searching for Sapphira even though she is believed dead by all. Conflict arises over the decades between Malachi and his family because of his refusals to accept another mate. But his very soul drives him on to continue his search, knowing that he could not exist if Sapphira were not in the world, somewhere.

Excerpt from Yesterday’s Daughter:

Malachi had gone very still as cold panic ran through his veins like a locomotive.  Trigon started to speak when he noticed that Malachi had paled and was holding his breath.  “Malachi, what is it?” he asked.  The Guardians stared at him and then he let out a howl, in so much anguish that it burst all the glass in the room, exploding the windows as he fell to his knees.  The Guardians spun around believing they were under some new kind of attack but saw nothing to explain Malachi’s condition.  Stunned silence then filled the room, no one breathed unsure of what was happening or what to do.

The nerves of the Guardians were drawn tight like bows about to be launched.  Their eyes were glowing, sweeping the room, searching the shadows, listening with focused intensity, searching for threats.  Maybe the Harvesters had a new weapon.

Trigon carefully stepped closer to Malachi and tentatively placed one hand on his shoulder.  He whispered the question quietly; afraid of what he might hear to bring such a reaction from Malachi.  “What is it, friend?”

Malachi looked up and Trigon recoiled at the grief and horror in his eyes.  He said one word, “Sapphira.”  They all looked at each other, their unease growing.  They all knew his life mate had been killed in the maturing chambers long ago.  Why was he calling her name now?  Why this murderous rage?  Had he lost his mind?

“What about Sapphira?”  Trigon asked unsure of what Malachi was trying to say.  Malachi’s breathing had returned but he sounded like a wounded animal, his breath ragged and uneven.  Unable to find the words, he thrust his mind out to share information with Trigon. Trigon stilled and the Guardians knew that Malachi was giving him information directly.  Trigon’s face tightened in concentration from the onslaught of information.  As the seconds passed, the Guardians grew tenser.

Buy Links:

Itunes:

https://itunes.apple.com/ie/book/yesterdays-daughter/id475005465?mt=11

Kobo:

http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/yesterday-s-daughter

Createspace.

https://www.createspace.com/3565845

Amazon paperback:

http://www.amazon.com/Yesterdays-Daughter-Sallie-Lundy-Frommer/dp/1460925238/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363005995&sr=8-1&keywords=Yesterday%27s+Daughter

Kindle

US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005TOJD4G

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005TOJD4G
DE: https://www.amazon.de/dp/B005TOJD4G

FR: https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B005TOJD4G

IT: https://www.amazon.it/dp/B005TOJD4G

ES: https://www.amazon.es/dp/B005TOJD4G

CA: http://www.amazon.ca/Yesterdays-Daughter-Sallie-Lundy-Frommer/dp/1460925238

Junglee (Kindle - India)

 http://www.junglee.com/Yesterdays-Daughter-Sallie-Lundy-Frommer/dp/1460925238/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1348081413&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble link:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/yesterdays-daughter-sallie-lundy-frommer/1105680374?ean=9781460925232&itm=1&usri=yesterday%27s+daughter

Smashwords link:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/93318

BooksaMillion

http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Yesterdays-Daughter/Sallie-Lundy-Frommer/9781460925232?id=5473235705339

Contact Links:

Sallie’s Blog:          http://yesterdaydaugher.blogspot.com/

Sallie’s  Website:  https://sites.google.com/site/yesterdaysdaughter/

Sallie’s facebook fanpage:

https://www.facebook.com/YesterdaysDaughter

Sallie’s Personal facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/sallie.lundyfrommer

Google+ link:

https://plus.google.com/101269512869199989117/posts?hl=en

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/#!/Slfrommer

Pinterest:

http://pinterest.com/slfrommer/

GoodReads:

http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6680591

Shelfari:

www.shelfari.com/Sallieride

Youtube Video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIx8MTSQNyw

Family Reunions, Mishaps, and Writing!

North Carolina is one of those states that have it all.   We've got beaches and mountains, metropolitan areas and rinky-dink little places with colorfully unique names like Bear Creek and Tick Bite.

Why just last week, we had an ice storm so severe that people were leaving their cars along the interstate - trying to get home.  It was like a scene out of movie... Yet today, I am looking a sunny blue skies and temperatures hovering around 70 degrees.  I love winter days that feel like spring.

And it is that springy feeling that made me think of family reunions...

As I said, North Carolina has some unique town names - Back Swamp being one of them.  Back Swamp Community Building, the site for the family reunion, is literally out in the middle of the sticks.  In fact, I'm not sure that sunlight isn't piped in for the residents.  Accompanying me to the reunion was my less that happy sixteen year old son.  I'm sure you can picture his face - the surly looks, the heavy breathing...

We pulled into the parking lot and I was immediately surprised at the number of people attending the reunion.  We normally didn't have such a large crowd.  We got our of the car, food in hand and made our way inside the building where we were greeted by the friendliest people.  They made room on the table for the food we had brought.  There was the standard reunion questions - Who's your parents?  Your grandparents?  And then the statement that should have set bells off in my head..."Hmmm, I don't know them but then I'm an in-law."

I made my way, followed by my unhappy son, to the dining hall.  I looked around trying to locate some familiar faces.  Where was everyone?  I knew my parents and my sister should have already arrived.  I suddenly felt not so warm and toasty.  I looked at my son, it wasn't good.  Going outside, I called my sister:

     "Where are you?" I asked.
     "Here," my sister responds.
     "Where is here?  Because I don't see you."
     "My sister answers, "At the reunion.  Did you just get here?"
     "I've been here,"  I replied.  "How about Mom and Dad?  Because I don't see them either."
     My sister doesn't bother answering.  Instead, she asks, "Where are you exactly?"
     At this point, I'm frustrated.  "Where do you think I am?  I'm outside of the community
building..."
     My sister starts laughing.
     "I'm not in the mood for this," I growled.
     My sister can hardly get the words out.  "You're at the wrong place.  I don't know whose reunion you're at but it's not ours."
     "What do you mean I'm at the wrong place?" I asked as I remembered the food I had just carried inside.  The food that's in my Corning Ware dishes...

It became apparent that I should have gone to my aunt's house - which is a few miles away.  I turned to my son and shared the devastating news.  We had to go back inside and get the food!  Believe me when I say that I considered forgoing the reunion.  Why even bother?  I mean, I could get in my car and drive to Wal-Mart where there was an abundance of Corning Ware.  But those dishes have a lot of sentimental value to me.  I've been cooking in them the entirety of my married life.  They've seen me through cooking disasters as well as culinary masterpieces.  I couldn't leave them!

At this point, my son is almost on his knees, begging me to make a run for it.  But this is one of those moments - those humiliating moments where we turn to our children and with all the love we can muster, tell them to suck it up!

So, I take a deep breath as I walk back into the community building.  My son followed like a lamb being led to the slaughter.  We headed over to the nearest group of ladies and I confessed my sin.  Trust me - they found the humor in the situation.  They were laughing, hanging out of the freaking door laughing - as we made a quick exit.  Family reunion 2013 is one they'll not likely soon forget.

We hurried to the car because honestly, Back Swamp is a small place and everyone knows everyone and if we could just make a clean break then no one else would be the wiser.  Except Back Swamp is a small place, and one of those nice ladies at the community building - yep, she knew my aunt.  My car wasn't out of the parking lot before she did the neighborly thing and made the call - you know, to let my aunt know we were on our way.

***

I'm looking forward to incorporating the above event in a story one day.  I think with a little tweaking, it would be a great opening scene.  As writers, we spend so much time in the land of make-believe, we need to remember that life and all its quirkiness is happening around us.  

So what do you think?  Do you incorporate your life into your writing?  

LE Fitzpatrick is today's guest on Self Published Sunday!

I am thrilled to welcome L E Fitzpatrick to Self Published Sunday.  I met the author a couple months ago when she hosted me on her blog Limelight.

  

L E Fitzpatrick was born in Hull, East Yorkshire, but now lives in West Wales, with her family plus lots of dogs and cats. She manages an office, volunteers as a room steward for the National Trust and also supports independent authors as a proofreader and beta reader. She obviously has no spare time because of this, but if she did it would probably be invested in walking in the countryside and enjoying the peace and quiet.

L E Fitzpatrick published her first series Dark Waters in 2011 and is currently working on her Reacher series.

Reachers

At six o'clock every night they post the same infomercial. That same blurred video of a teenage boy walking through Piccadilly Station more than a decade ago. He has a brand new bag on his back, bulging with menace. The people around him, regular commuters trying to get to work, stop as he passes them. They turn, transfixed and follow him as he leads them deeper onto the platform. The image pauses: one young boy and fifty innocent people, blown to pieces. He was a Reacher and that one act of terrorism condemned every man and woman like him to death.

The infomercial always finishes with the warning: Look out for suspicious, paranormal activity - report any irregularities to the authorities - it could be your neighbour, your colleagues - remain vigilant and we will win this war.

The Piccadilly bomber is the only known Reacher to have ever launched an attack on London. An average of eighteen attacks a year for over ten years and they still blame Reachers every single time. They hunt us. Capture us. Cart us off to the Institute to be experimented on. There are so few of us now. My name is Rachel Aaron and I'm a Reacher.

Suspicious, paranormal activity - what the hell does that even mean? Is there any paranormal activity that isn't suspicious? So what can I do? What separates me from you? Well I can read your Mind. In a single kiss I can uncover your darkest secrets and take over your thoughts. Imagine what I could to you. Imagine what I could do for you.

They'll tell you that I'm a threat to society. But I'm a doctor, I work twelve hour shifts, six days a week, keeping people alive. I live on the eleventh floor, of a twenty storey concrete building, in a one room apartment with no hot water. I've been under the radar now for seven years. Seven long, hard years. But now it's time to run.

The government wants me dead. And there are others who want to take me alive to use my powers for their own gain, just like they did with my sister. But I won't be anybody's slave and I won't be a lab rat for the Institute.

Dad used to call it The Running Game, he taught it to us before he was killed. Always be ready, that's what he said. And I have been. So I'm going to run, like I have before. But this time I won't be doing it alone.

They'll tell you I'm a threat to society and with the Smith brothers I am. Together we're unstoppable. Look out for suspicious, paranormal activity. My name is Rachel Aaron and I know your deepest, darkest secrets.

The Running Game by L E Fitzpatrick

Excerpt

She arrived in S’aven a month after her seventeenth birthday. As she shuffled off the train at Trinity Station her head had been an onslaught of naïve ambitions and excitement. The convent was gone and she was free. Soon she would be with her sister and the world would be theirs. But it never happened. Her sister was killed and instead of liberation S’aven became just another prison; bigger, noisier and more dangerous.

As she waited in that same station, seven years later, watching the rats duel with the pigeons, she realised it would be the same wherever she went. The prison was countrywide because she was a prisoner on the run and that would never change. They blamed Reachers for everything, she was guilty by nature and no jury would ever say otherwise.

Police marched up and down the boardwalk, shining lights on those huddled around their worn suitcases or battered sacks. They checked the faces of the men and women, even the children, looking for fugitives. People only left S'aven when they had to, it was the cops' job to work out what they were running from.

She could see them questioning a couple, checking their bags over and over while the husband insisted they were just going to see family. His wife was pretty and the cops were enjoying making her squirm. They made the couple turn, press their hands against the wall. They only bothered to search the wife, laughing as her husband protested their innocence. She was smart though, she told him to be quiet – a quick feel was better than getting shot in the head.

“Do you want to know why we're leaving, because of this!” The husband yelled.

With other cops this would have been a step too far, but these two were in good humour. They released the woman, squeezing her backside as she gathered her things. Then they wished them luck – a couple like that were going to need it.

Then it was time to move on. Their flash lights darted about as they headed towards the end of the platform. They passed two men in suits. There was no talk, the men held out a roll of notes, the cops took it and moved on. Rachel sat away from them all, she rested her head back and closed her eyes as they started to approach. They never even looked her way.

The train was running late. There were rumours about insurgents commandeering the northern lines and taking passengers hostage. The longer the delays, the more people remembered what was outside the city walls. S’aven had civilisation and work and food. It was right beside London where people still had money and the world still ran like it was supposed to. But outside the border, beyond the protection of the rational south there was so much unknown. Rachel stared at the arched exit out of the city; for her at least, it was the lesser of two evils.

She turned her head to the station entrance and that’s when she saw him hobbling around the platform. He balanced on the crutch and scanned the crowd just like the cops had done. His bloodshot eyes looked panicked, maybe even desperate. She knew he was looking for her, she just wasn't sure why.

Then he spotted her, seeing through her powers, seeing just her, alone. The connection was instantaneous, it was like staring at a long lost twin. And it had been so long since she had felt anything more than emptiness.

He made his way over. He looked tired, but relieved to see her.

“Mind if I join you?”

Stay Connected:

Website: http://l-e-fitzpatrick.blogspot.co.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lefitzpatrickbooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/L_E_Fitzpatrick

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/L_E_Fitzpatrick

Purchase Links:

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00G7VJ0GG/

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00G7VJ0GG/

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/370963

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-running-game-l-e-fitzpatrick/1117298998

Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Running-Game/book-dd4LOU4_lkWM0FLWucj6hw/page1.html

Don't Overlook the Importance of a Good Editor

Do you remember that moment when you wrote the very last word to your first novel/story?  And you were thrilled beyond measure?  All the hard work, the hours spent sitting at a desk pecking away on your keyboard - it had all been for that moment! But the elation is short lived because now the story had to be edited.  

If we were wise, we had consulted our trusty writers' handbook.  Punctuation and grammatical errors were at a minimum.  But, editing is more than finding technical errors and this is why we need editors.  Editors serve as a sort of devil's advocate. They ask the tough questions and offer solutions:

Is the plot solid?  If not, what needs to be addressed?

Are the characters well rounded?  Do they react in a manner that is true to the qualities assigned to them?  

Are the scenes within the story fully developed?  Is the reader able to "see" what the writer intended?

Does the story flow?

These questions are important.  As writers, we tend to have tunnel vision. We may think we've done our job in terms of describing a situation, etc.  In regards to a particular scene in my novel, my editor asked me to explain a certain character's comment.  I did (thinking that's pretty obvious) only to have my editor respond that just because I knew the reason inside my head didn't mean that my readers were privy to my thoughts.

Recently, I purchased an e-book.  The book was self published and I will admit that overall, I liked the writer's style.  But there were problems - mistakes that should have been caught before publishing. Not only were there issues with misspelled words, there were problems with the plot.  By the time, I had reached the last chapters, I had lost the emotional connection to the story.  Had the writer hired an editor, I think the editor would have said - "You're beating a dead horse!"  What had been intended to elicit an emotional connection had instead become redundant and unnecessary. I honestly felt as though the writer had run out of ideas but was short on total word count.   

So many of us (self published writers) tend to forgo hiring an editor, thinking that we can do it ourselves.  Editors can be very expensive and may not fit our budget. If you find this is the case, there are alternatives:  

Contact someone in your local community college's English department.  You may find a professor who will be willing to read/edit your manuscript.

Share your book with readers/writers prior to publishing.  Ask for feedback regarding the plot, the characters, etc.  Then listen.  We are all protective of our work but in order to improve, we have to be open to constructive criticism.  

So - when it comes to editors, what do you think?  Do you use them?  If not, what alternatives do you suggest?   If so, do you feel as though it is money well spent? 

   

Novel Notions welcomes RJ Crayton to Self Published Sunday!

It is my pleasure to welcome author R.J. Crayton to Self Published Sunday.  Today she's talking about inspiration and it's well worth reading!  Before we get to her post, I thought you might want to meet her!

RJ Crayton lives in the Washington, DC, area and writes suspense and thriller novels that have a touch of romance. She has published two novels set in an exciting dystopian future: Life First and Second Life.  

What to do if inspiration doesn’t find you at your desk

by R. J. Crayton

“An idea is like a virus: resilient, highly contagious. And even the smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define or destroy you.”

-Inception (2010 film)

One of my favorite movies of recent years is Inception. The 2010 film is fun for anyone who works in the field of ideas (so that would be you, if you’re a writer). The movie’s basic premise is there are corporate espionage agents who specialize in stealing secrets from sleeping CEOs by invading their minds. The agents in the film get hired to do something considered impossible--inception. In the movie, stealing data is easy, but planting an idea in someone’s head and getting it to stick and to grow — inception — is impossible. Why? Because for an idea to stick, it must be original. According to the film’s lore, the brain rejects ideas that feel foreign. To get true inception, the idea has to feel random, like a grand epiphany that occurred when the mind secretly connected the dots. Inception isn’t about a random, insignificant idea — like, yum, strawberries would be tasty right about now — but ideas that a person will remember and act upon.

So, now that I’ve given you my movie lecture, what does it have to do with today’s post? Well, the topic of this post is inspiration, and I find this notion of inception incredibly relevant to the inspiration.  When people say they feel inspired, it’s rarely something they forget twenty minutes later (if it is something we forget in a few minutes, I’m inspired a lot; most often about car keys). If we’re going to tell someone we feel “inspired” or even just say it to ourselves, it tends to be an  idea that feels original, unique, different, important, fun, serendipitous, or maybe even life-changing.

For writers, this is why  finding inspiration can sometimes feel difficult. Assuming corporate agents aren’t going to invade our brains and implant ideas (I know this is a tough assumption to make, given how regularly this happens), what’s the best way for writers to go about finding inspiration when they’re not feeling it?

Well, while writing itself tends to be a solitary affair, done alone in a room, inspiration is not. It’s something that requires writers get out and move about. The things that inspire people are little nuggets that happen at dinners with friends, overheard conversations at the mall, watching children play at the park, or even watching a butterfly flutter through a field.

If you look at famous writers, and their habits, they all have things they do to get the creative juices flowing. Jodi Piccoult said she goes on a three-mile walk in the morning with a friend. Kurt Vonnegut had a routine of working in the morning, followed by doing his daily errands and exercising. Authors like F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote wonderfully vivid tales, and based on their life’s history, did so, in part because they had such active social lives.

So, if you feel you’re lacking inspiration, head out of the house and sightsee at the mall, go gossip with your neighbor, or even just go hang out at the park. Though inspiration is codified while sitting at the screen, it rarely comes from staring at it. 

If you’re looking for more information on ways to feel inspired and creative, check out these two very interesting articles on when our brains feel most creative:

1. Why you’re more creative at night

2. Ten Surprising Facts about how your brain works

Stay connected:

Website: http://rjcrayton.com

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/rjcraytonauthor

Twitter feed: https://twitter.com/RJCrayton

Goodreads Page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7111348.R_J_Crayton

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/rjcrayton/

Purchase Links:

Life first: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DFNWFX4

Second Life:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H314SOS/