A Bit Unexpected

I wasn't exactly thrilled about watching the Oscars this year. I didn't have a horse in the race. I hadn't seen many of the films that had been nominated. I wasn't enthusiastic about seeing many of them – the subject matter was either very intriguing but too emotionally upsetting at this time in my life (12 Years A Slave) or had absolutely no appeal for me (Wolf Of Wall Street).

I do like to watch the red carpet dance. I know absolutely nothing about fashion, and the longer that I'm out of the day-to-day grind of the work force, the less style I seem to have. As a stay at home writer, my clothes only have to pass the sniff test. Comfort is key. Style is not even a consideration.

I was appalled at how bad the coverage was of the red carpet. Every network had a team of D-listers dressed up in bad prom dresses commenting on what the stars were wearing. I saw more of these chicks lined up in a row with iPads on their laps than I did of the stars. WTH? Who thought this was a good idea? I just want to see stars dressed up in pretty clothes. I don't even care 'who' they are wearing. Just put them in the clothes and parade them past the camera dripping in jewels and clean hair.  I'll enjoy some shrimp cocktail and a nice red wine on my sofa. That to me is what the Oscars is all about.

And so this year, the bit that was unexpected for me was how much fun the actual telecast was. Yes, it is an endurance marathon rather than a well-designed sprint. But I want to see the guys below the line troop up on the stage and collect their awards. I want to see the people who win for best short feature and animation thank their kids. And most of all, I want to hear Idina Menzel sing "Let It Go" and watch Pink turn into a superstar with her version of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow." Bravo! Talent, pure, simple and unadulterated.

And while we are waiting for the next announcement of something big, why not a pizza and a #Selfie? That's what we're doing at home. It is all part of what the Oscars are about. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I actually enjoyed watching the Oscars. I felt good afterwards. Maybe I'll continue to make the effort to go see movies despite all the other distractions on my time.

It's A Slippery Slope

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Back at the 2006 Olympics, Matt Lauer and Al Roker learned how to luge. I have watched this clip more than once and it makes me laugh every time. I think it's because they giggle like little girls all the way down the hill. I am so excited to hear that they are going to do it again at the 2014 Olympics. Lightning doesn't strike twice, but it's worth a shot!

The Perils Of A Vivid Imagination

Most days of this writer's life are uneventful. There is some hissing as the cats vie for position on top of my desk to watch the bird activities in the treetops just outside the window. My iPhone buzzes, whistles and pops with each tweet, text and news bulletin. Sometimes there are staccato bursts of the computer keyboard.

I spend a lot of time staring off into space. And my space is a window onto the street in front of my house. So while I was dreaming up a new twist for my romance novel the other day, you can imagine my dismay when a new twist for a spy novel appeared outside my front door.

Two white panel vans were parked in front of the house under a street lamp. The occupants of said van appeared to be working in tandem. I can't tell you the exact time of their arrival, but once they were noticed, they were under surveillance for the next several hours.

Lest you think that I am the only person in my world with a vivid imagination, the Handsomest Man Alive came into my office for a non-specific consultation at the lunch hour and exclaimed, "hey, look there's two white panel vans in front of the house."

You should know that we watch "Homeland", "The Blacklist" and "The Americans." We know what goes on inside white panel vans on television.

You should also know that we live next to a very nice family who are, as Jane Austen would say, "of foreign extraction." They are the nicest people in our neighborhood. The only ones who say hello. My only hesitation in having them over to supper is that the gentleman practices his hand-to-hand combat skills on a mat in his garage every Tuesday night. I'm not sure if he is the instructor or if he is taking instructions. It isn't wrestling. I know wrestling and there is some other evidence that I do not want to mention here that leads me to believe that they are not training for Olympic competition as much as they are training to be ninja assassins.  I only hope it is for self-defense.

I spent a lot of quality time that day wondering if we were under surveillance by proximity. A lot of quality time when I could've been doing something else.

So it was with great relief that long about five o'clock in the afternoon, a couple of guys with knee pads strapped over their pants wandered out a house down the block and went out to the vans. They loaded their tool bags, some scrap carpeting, and a roll of padding into the vans. And then they left.

International crisis averted

If you're going to be doing any sort of remodeling in my neighborhood over the next few weeks, I'd appreciate it if you could alert me in advance. 

What Would Jane Austen Tweet?

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a romance author in possession of a book or manuscript for sale must be in want of Twitter followers. 

Social media has become integral to the success of any small business marketing plan. Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram, Google+ and Tumblr attract attention through graphics, pictures and illustrations, but Twitter is the one social media platform where your writer's voice can and really should shine. Think of each Tweet as a writing challenge. You only get 140 characters, so you must make each one count.

Your Tweets can help create and shape the personality of you as an author. Just as you have a picture of Jane Austen in your mind's eye, use your Tweets to create a public image of you in your writer's bonnet or pith helmet if that's more apropos. Think about your public image before you Tweet.

Your Tweets, like your curtsey to Mr. Collins at the Netherfield Ball, should always be light, bright, and polite. It's a saying I learned at a social media seminar by Josh Ochs that has stuck with me as my mantra.

@Emma: It was a delightful Tweet; perfect, in being much too short.

Your Tweets should be precise, witty and pithy. Try not to use all 140 characters. Leave room for your followers to RT and add comments.

A Twitter feed is a public "micro-blog," not a private text machine. Using #toomanymakebelievehashtags and text abbreviations make your Tweets about as entertaining as Mary Bennet's singing at the piano.

Unless you're Mrs. Elton, your Tweets (as an author) should be free of strong opinions, controversial topics, and politics. And remember the golden rule of social media: There will always be haters. You can choose to engage with them. Or not.

You take delight in vexing me,@LizzysDad. You have no compassion on my poor nerves. 
You mistake me, @MrsBennet. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. 

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet know to seek out accomplices on social media. Note that they don't start Tweet shout-outs to each other with their Twitter handles. Their Tweets will be seen by all their followers and not just each other. @Kristan_Higgins and @JillShalvis do this with panache. 

Use HootSuite or TweetDeck to schedule your Tweets. You can send the same Tweet up to three times a day and not worry about becoming as repetitive as Miss Bates.

Be aware of current events. Un-schedule Tweets that contain calls to buy your book or sign up for your newsletter when a tragedy or disaster strikes.

There are no tricks to gaining new followers. Engagement is key. If you schedule tweets, you still need to make time to be on Twitter live and in person; Follow, Reply and RT the posts of your author-friends. 

Engage your followers. Ask questions about their favorite books, movies and television shows and Reply. Check out @EntangledPub for great examples of how it's done.

Gotta Dance!

Dorcas The Explorer

As a writer, I have sinned. This is my confession.

I am working on a deadline and for the past forty-eight hours I have been consumed with something other than writing. Lord, I have met my Waterloo, and Ancestry.com be its name. I'm uncertain how I was led astray. I just know that once I was sucked into the black hole of nothing-else-will-get-done-ness that is Ancestry.com, I was held there by a powerful force field and unable to return to my Work-In-Progress. This was way worse than my Daily Mail addiction. Personal hygiene was ignored. I didn't leave the house. No meals were prepared. At one point my husband came into my office and asked if he needed to get a second job to support my Ancestry.com habit. Yes, it was getting ugly, and yet, I was not deterred.

My father died when I was 24. I don't know much about his family, and now, unfortunately, there really is no one around to ask. (Let this be a lesson to you. Ask!) I do have a hand-written family tree that his older brother prepared in 1990s. Armed with that information, some of which was unclear and incomplete, on a crumpled sheet of paper, I logged onto Ancestry.com and entered a whole new world.

That's where I met Dorcas. She is my great-great-great-great-great grandmother. In the summer of 1761, her parents bought passage for themselves and their four children on the good ship "Hopewell." They ventured into the unknown from Londonderry, Ireland to Halifax, Nova Scotia. (It should be noted here that I don't like driving from Santa Clarita to Santa Monica without my GPS – I can't imagine the bravery of this little family.)

Dorcas was four years old at the time. She was the only one of her siblings to survive the transatlantic crossing.

She and her parents settled in Glenholme, Nova Scotia. It's a mark on the map so small that it isn't there any more, and so remote that Google maps doesn't provide any street views of the area. In my mind's eye it's cold, isolated, rugged and breathtakingly beautiful. It was there in Glenholme that Dorcas grew up, fell in love and married the son of a local farmer. A tall drink of water, I'm guessing, by the name of Alexander Vance.

And the rest, so they say, is my history.

I'm back to the grindstone today. I know that's what Dorcas would've wanted it that way. Becoming an author isn't easy. I feel like I'm sailing in uncharted waters every day. But now that I know that I've got a bit of Dorcas the Explorer in my blood, I will persevere. I will survive. And I won't be afraid.

The Worst Writer Of All Time

There's been a lot of talk about reviews in my writing group recently. As an aspiring author, my focus is usually on finishing the damn project that I'm working on. The idea that someone might hate all over what I have toiled for weeks, month and years to create hasn't even crossed my mind.

Until now.

Now that I have submitted my first manuscript to my first agency, I'm starting to think about what other people might think about what I write.

I am a great reader, but I have never been a great writer. I am a good writer, but a convoluted storyteller and I often have to unwind the story that's in my head before I can find the beginning and start to tell it.

I am surprised by how easily people criticize the works of others. This week it was Stephen King who earned my ire. When I was in middle school, his books were considered pop fiction and had the same reputation as junk food. When did he become the 21st century's answer to William Shakespeare? Everyone is a critic. How soon we forget…

I read constantly and I seldom say "I hated that book." I don't always finish books. I skim some books. I know which genre of books I've tried before and failed to enjoy. I have my guilty pleasures that I return to over and over. And I do enjoy some books more than others, but that can depend on my mood, the weather, the news I just watched on the television –that's why there are so many different kinds of book genres.

What do you do when you get a bad review? I hope that I take the same approach as this restaurant owner who not only acknowledged a bad review, but he used it as an advertisement to entice more customers. Bravo!

Everyone who a computer and access to the internet has become a professional critic. You might as well keep your sense of humor about what others think about you and move on with your life. Life's too short and filled with too many obstacles. I want to die laughing.