Author: Aya DeAniege

Look Until You Are Exhausted

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Yesterday I applied to about fifty marketing websites for At Death’s Door. 

Many of them said on their websites that this is not a sure thing. The usual suspects from last time toted how they’ll totally have my ad on their page on the Twenty-fourth.

They didn’t last time, if they don’t this time, I’m going to be pissed. 

Like I said before, they are offering a free service, but it’s apparently not guaranteed. Their confirmation email should not say that it will be in their newsletter if it’s not going to be in their newsletter. Is that too much to ask?

One said that I had been accepted and will be posted, I believe it even had links to the pages for me to go look at on the day and share and such on. I will look, if it is there, they may be my new favourite for communication.

And of course, there were the forty or so sites which are not guaranteed. Oh, I still applied to them all. To all the sites I could find. I also have a list of Facebook pages to post to the day of. 

I’m starting to work on ad copy, something that will fit into a 140 characters or less. Hash tags and tweets and places to do the things. Beth has one page which worked one time, but it’s also a free service and seems to have a good spread. It doesn’t disappear immediately.

Having done all that, I went out with a work friend at nine thirty and didn’t get home until after one in the morning. Walked home from downtown… 

I am not disturbed by the fact that I walked forty minutes at one in the morning. It was even warm still.

It’s the up at six, legs being annoying, wine still lingering in my mouth after brushing my teeth twice, feeling. It’s the “I don’t want to do this” feeling. Which could also be the “please, marketing, please, please, please, work.”

In the mean time, I’ve got a full work day ahead of me and I don’t want to be bright or cheerful. I want to curl up and sleep.

Marketing is Repetitive

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I’m marketing At Death’s Door more today. I’m going to say this, but only because I’m bored: Ugh.

If there are any marketers reading this and I’ve accidentally submitted to your site twice, I apologize. Beth’s had me do this for her, so I thought the site looked familiar because I was there for her, but no.

Ugh.

Marketing is repetitive. You can pay other services to submit to other pages, however you pay them to submit your book to the free services of other sites which doesn’t guarantee you promotion. This means that… well, do it yourself! If you submit to 45 sites the chances of being picked up by one are pretty slim unless you are some sort of best seller with six million reviews. For all you or I know, those sites are automatically ignored because they’re basically spam bots.

Now if it’s a network, that’s a different story.

So paying such and such a price to do that when there’s a Fiverr option (of five bucks) to do the same thing is pretty well pointless. But beware Fiverr, there are some who say they’ll post your book to Facebook pages, ect, then send you doctored photos. Beth caught someone last year doing that. She’s very focused on anything Fiverr. If she can’t track what you did, then you did nothing and she wants her money back.

And if you send her images of “open” Facebook groups and she can’t find them on Facebook, she’s going to demand her money back, then report you to Fiverr, and give you a one star rating because stop ripping indie authors off you mean people.

Submitting to sites goes by fairly quickly, after an hour I had about twenty sites. Maybe a few less, I’ve been wandering in between submissions because it’s such repetitive work. I don’t mind repetitive work if it’s with my hands. Sorting blueberries, removing paper bits from fiddleheads, that kind of thing. The copy and paste and switch windows in a different pattern every time, that’s what’s getting to me.

I like patterns, they make my job easier.

Here’s the thing with marketing (for those brand new at it) you want all your links open in tabs in behind. Open a new tab for each site you visit, then close it once everything is complete.

I visit sites often which have the go forward then back thing going on, but marketing, I often close the tab I’m working on. It’ll also help you trace back and forward. So at the moment I have the original search through Google (good ol’Google) then the first result I opened, and from there I actually found another site with many links and that’s the site I’m working on. Once I’m done I can just close the tab and go backwards, or keep it open and use it to compare the links between sites and maybe save myself a few clicks.

Some people ask for ASIN, then they ask for the link to your Amazon book, do not go to Amazon and look up your book. Go to your bookshelf in KDP and click on the US site from there, this will give you a clean link. If you look it up on Amazon, there’s a bunch of numbers at the end.

Want reviews? If six people click that link with the numbers and try to review, you’re going to have a bad time. It’s some kind of referral number. Use a clean link. And in that clean link, the ASIN is present. I think that might be the most frustrating, yet easiest part. I just keep the Amazon link on the clipboard and then delete the webpage and leave only the ASIN when they request it.

If you find yourself getting bored, take a break. Wander the internet, check social media, write a little bit. Boredom makes it a laborious process.

Some sites require a certain number of reviews. The magic numbers seem to be 3, 5, or 18. Nothing outside of that, which I find odd. But hey…

So those who pay for reviews get a head start. Annoying, nope, I will not pay for reviews, not if I can help it.

At Death’s Door currently has four reviews, bringing it to 4.7 Stars on Amazon. Yesterday morning, it had two. I’m dancing, but now I’m just one off of meeting about two thirds of the sites’ requirements. I used to itch for that third review, now I’m itching for the fifth.

Some sites require family friendly books, or no erotica. Most of the sites I chose accept erotica because I’m now keeping a list for later reference. Just a list, not the links themselves. For my next free day I will search each one, which will take me to a new page, in case they move it.

Some sites require you to sign up for free account. For the most part I avoid these. For starters, I never remember the log in and I’ve never heard of these sites.

Many require you sign up for their author newsletters and/or the newsletters sending out the free books. So look at it this way: a site says they have 40,000 readers of their email. They also have a lot of different authors who have advertised on their site. How many of those 40,000 are actually readers, and how many are just authors who are sitting on the newsletter and not paying attention to the emails?

In order to tell if you’ve been advertised, though, you have to sign up for the email and check the days that you requested. The last time I did this, the sites I applied to all sent me an email saying, “Your book will be promoted the days you requested” except it wasn’t. If it’s not guaranteed promotion, just say so! Most sites do.

Don’t tell me you’re going to do something, then don’t.

There are ever a very few that don’t tell you anything at all. They want you to submit an inquiry for more information. I take that as I do jewelry that has no price. Either I can’t afford it, or the seller is snooty and thinks I can’t afford it, either way they aren’t getting my money. I prefer to give my money to those who are transparent and up front about everything.

One site kind of threatened you with the possibility of being drawn for reviews, and that those reviews may not be kind, if you don’t do the paid option. That was a little odd, I’m not certain if I should take that as they will find everything wrong with your book, or if it was just friendly advice. I’m hoping it’s friendly advice…

On Paying Attention

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

When you publish through KDP, your books default in the list to the most recently changed at the top. You can change that, but I don’t know if it sticks between visits. I’ve never played with that, as the most recently modified is usually what I’m looking for.

Two days ago, Contract Broken appeared at the top of the list. I foolishly thought it was in preparation for it being removed from KDP Select, but no. 

That was it being removed from KDP Select.

Shoot.

Me doing arts and crafts, and Contract Broken could have been through the Smashword’s vetting process by now. I’ve now got that on my list of things to do at work today (on my breaks) so there goes my fifteen minutes of wandering the Internet and just taking a freaking break from all the things.

If I had been paying attention, like I should have been doing, I would have actually investigated the change instead of making an assumption. Know what I’m constantly trying to get people at work to do? That. Exactly what I didn’t do for my own book.

I feel like a bloody moron!

Ugh.

Last night as I was trying to fall asleep, the next chapter for Death Mask started playing through my head. That’s great news, fantastic news.

How does chapter ten end, exactly, brain? You know, the one we’re currently writing?

Still haven’t heard from the betas. Super uncomfortable about that. I’ll just be curled in the corner, rocking back and forth and muttering to myself about how it’s not a completely terrible book, someone will like it.

Arts and Crafts for Authors

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

I’m talking about cover design. No, I’m not going to tell you how to make a cover. There are a couple of tutorials for different covers from the age old, “add a black box,” to, “add black bands,” and on to the, “just feather that all around,” stuff that doesn’t translate well from Photoshop to Paintshop, apparently.

Cover design is very personal, and while I may talk about it later on, I won’t right now. I just got started, by next week all my information will hopefully be upgraded.

Cover design is one of those things that most of us should probably hire out for, myself included. It’s not just a slap on the butt and it’ll work.

It’s not like painting a wall, where as long as it’s mostly okay, no one will notice the flaws. 

There’s positioning and hierarchy and typography. And not just the type of font you use, but how you make that sucker stand out from the rest of the cover. There’s negative space and texture and colour.

So, I’ve been talking for a while about getting into cover design…

I’ve got the program, I’ve got a couple sites for stock photos, I’ve been doing research in those moments when I can’t focus on writing. 

I kind of suck at it right now, but doing this kind of work when the words elude me takes the pressure off me. I don’t feel like I’m a failure because I can’t make my three thousand words, or I’m not marketing, or editing. I get my mind off the plots for a little bit, so that I can take a look back with a fresh perspective and see new things in a world. 

It’s a great thing that keeps my attention and doesn’t make me feel guilty, unlike the video games I keep trying to play. On the one hand this is a good thing, because it means that I have the ambition, drive, and, heck, even the time management skills required to get this whole dream of mine off the ground. I’m just missing the reader base.

Market more.

That’s the voice I hear, except it’s always in a snooty tone and said by someone who isn’t living paycheck to paycheck, able to afford rent but nothing extravagant. Know what I can’t afford?

Furniture, trips, alcohol, makeup, and a shit ton of other things like daily coffee. If I can’t afford those things, I can’t afford marketing.

Then you can’t afford to be a writer.

You and I, snooty voice, need to have words out behind the woodshed with a shotgun.

This idea that if you can’t afford marketing, you can’t afford to be an author is absolutely ridiculous. You can afford to be an author. Save your money for things that really matter, like an editor and cover designer. Write a good book, the rest will come with time. Sure, it’ll take you longer, but just because you don’t have expendable income doesn’t mean you have to abandon your dream.

End rant.

Yesterday, after making my three thousand words I made the cover for His Grace and then did the other idea I had for the cover. It could be the shitty angel wings I grabbed for filler, but the second one looks stupid. I will try to find an appropriate pair of wings and see how that looks. 

Probably just the same.

Then I tried playing my game and was on just long enough for it to load before I looked at the time and grimaced.

It was only noon, I still had lots of time before my day off ended. I couldn’t come up with anything to do with the game, at least nothing interesting, so I closed it down and reopened Paintshop. 

I grabbed a couple random things. I slapped something together and finally ended up looking at an approximation of the cover I had wanted for Masked Intentions. Only an approximation though.

I started trying to come up with pre-made cover ideas. While wandering around, I found a stock photo of two pillows and got an idea, so I did it. That’s it, that’s all. I made what was mostly in my head.

My typography and texture mixes are still bothering me. Texture is getting better, but I have to find someplace with typography tutorials. I want to know how I do that thing with the thing and that one over there.

Mine’s just all flat and boring. All I can really do is drop shadow and glow. 

I am doing the smart thing, though, and making up recipe files for my covers. I think there’s a way to save palettes but I don’t know how to do that yet. Rather than spend the three hours teaching myself in the middle of craft time, I grabbed the hex numbers and added them to the recipe file.

So, that’s what I did this weekend. It’s what I plan to do tonight when I get home as well, unless His Grace begs to be written. 

I need to finish Death Mask. Haven’t heard anything back from the betas of Cheating Death, starting to worry it’s a bad book. Ah well, I’m a bad author and a bad cover designer.

I don’t feel bad about that, though, as I will get better.

When Avoiding the Ending, do Other Work

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

It’s not that I have writer’s block, but that this happens when I get close to the ending of something. It happened with Contract Renewed and prematurely with Contract Sealed. There’s just something about ending a book that gives my brain a stutter and a little death.

I’ve been working on Wraith’s Rebellion since September. My fingers are trying to tell me that’s ten months. I’m not really trusting them at the moment, as I’m having difficulty moving the joints and that interferes with a lot of reasoning skills because of the pain.

If the damp could go away, I’d be ever so happy.

So working out the ending and saying goodbye to Quin and Helen is seriously messing with me. It’s not like there have been a lot of characters, this has been a very intimate story and unlike with Izzy and Nate… and Mr. W, it isn’t done and in the past. 

They just feel cozier to me, and I don’t want to give them up, but this will be the end of their story. The world might continue, but I don’t think they really come up again unless Anna does tell me her story, then it’d be text based communication only.

In the meantime I’ve been playing video games. Mainly because the arthritis is causing enough pain to drain me to the point of nothing, so by the time I get home from the day job there’s a fog in my eyes and I still have the nightly things to do, like dinner, dishes, and cats. 

Please buy my books so I can quit my day job.

I had never intended on full quitting, but it’s working with my hands. I know they say with arthritis to use it or lose it, but I can do stretches or colouring books, nail painting and fine work for cover design. Things which help with my career rather than help someone who yips and yaps at me because someone my age couldn’t possibly have arthritis and why am I not moving faster to serve their purpose?

I’m talking clients, not boss. The boss is quite understanding and we’re discussing training for another position because… well, hands.

In the meantime, while this stupid rain continues and the damp gets into my joints, I’ve started promoting At Death’s Door even though I swore I’d wait for more reviews on all the books before I did that. I’ve been considering setting out a cover goal for myself. 

One pre-made cover for each day off the regular job. Once I reach ten covers, I’ll start selling them. Take that money and reinvest it in the books. Etc and so on.

I’ve been considering getting a website. But here’s the thing. My credit card expires next month and I haven’t received the new one yet. I’m worried about starting and subscription service, in case the credit card company has decided my paying the card on time all but that one time isn’t good enough and and they don’t send me a new one.

It could seriously mess with my plans, but that’s life. Always kicking me in the face.

After all that trouble last year, I had a couple quiet months. Then on Sunday my kitchen ceiling started leaking. Did my job, notified the landlord. No response. Then on Thursday same thing, except four this time.

Did my job, notified the landlord and pointed out the mould growing on the ceiling now. Said he’d be there Friday.

I have no idea if he did anything. The ceiling isn’t leaking anymore but it’s not raining as hard. My kitchen smells like mould and mildew.

Know where you don’t want that stuff? In your food.

I’m so sick of chasing people with the same comment or question sixteen times, then having them act like I’m imposing on them because I want an answer as to what will be done about this thing that is their responsibility.

Answer the first time, and I won’t have to ask again.

So I need to look for a new place on top of everything else. Due to the area being an “up and comer” people are moving into it which is jacking up the rent. I can’t afford to move on my income, and I’m “well above” minimum wage.

I was told recently that minimum wage was meant to be living wage, how much you had to make to support a family. I can’t support myself on more than that! 

Not anymore, not with people jacking up the rent because people are moving from Toronto because they can’t afford to live there either.

Dear world, I was told there were breaks that people catch. You lied, I want a refund on hope invested so I can convert it into something more useful.

As an added note, I think my autocorrect is starting to lose its mind. Oh boy.

Leaving on a Plane

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Dorian is understandably upset with me. He’s not upset that I drank a bunch, or even the story about my flirting with the bartender.

He was mad because I drank so much that I passed out. First time in… well, almost a week thanks to that day with the two pills in the morning. But before that, not for a very long time. 

He knows it, I know it. He’s also upset that Raphael told me when he was getting off work and I passed out. 

Dorian’s not big on passed opportunity because of alcohol, so guess who pulled his last Sir card for April and grounded me?

Grumpy butt. 

I slept most of the morning away, then got anxious in the airport. I dreamed about blood and pain. 

I don’t dream about blood, pain, yes, but not blood. It creeped me out. So now sitting on the tarmac, waiting for the plane to move, I’m starting to have an anxiety attack. 

I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to go home. 

And I think I left my stuffed animal in the hotel room. Ugh. 

Last Day Part 3

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

The resort has live shows every day starting about 930. I’d either be drunk or with Dorian. Admittedly, he’s kept me pretty wasted.

Given the lack of hang over in the morning, and how much I giggle over the idea of coming back despite everything else? Him keeping me balanced on that post of drunk isn’t bad. 

I huffed, puffed, finished my drink and found the waitress who has brought me drinks for the past week. Today she stopped, mouth opened and said, “He ordered you a Spanish coffee, but you are mojito!”

At least she knows me despite how much of a shitty tipper I am.

Spanish coffee equals coffee with alcohol. Oh my god, guilty pleasure.

Anyhow! 

I saw her and give her my drink as she frowned at me and motioned to the French family as if to ask what kind of fucking douchebag does that.

My raffle win? She shrugged and said whatever. But taking a table? 

Burn the witch!

I wanted that dress…

Any who. I gave her my glass instead of leaving it on the shelf or floor. I went to the bathroom (bladder the size of a pea and they have three, three public bathrooms, two in the lobby) and then walked downstairs as I almost cried because I’m plain and burned thanks to my time in the sun and no one feels anything but pity for me because I’m alone. 

Here’s the thing about that…

I get about three steps and my back goes straight and I go up on the balls of my feet, looking around for a predator to take anyone down who would dare see me as anything less than I am.

I went downstairs  (mind you, probably wobbling) and found the live music area. I ordered a drink and, as the bartender ignored me to check his messages, I objectified him. Mm, nice ass.

I’d like to see him under Dorian.

Which was about the point where he turned and handed me my drink and I squeaked. Dorian doesn’t do that, we’ve never discussed it and that’s not how objectification works.

So… apparently I’m about to take in a live show.

Updated: oh my god. My bartender is name Raphael. He can make a mean mojito and when he smiles?

Fuck me. I forget I’m paying his wage. I forget that he is only being nice for the tip. Oh god. Dear Raphael, 

If I knew how to say “Fuck me,” in Spanish, I would. 

Last Day part 2

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Dear people. 

Fuck you.

Dorian went to bed early leaving me in the lobby. It’s an exercise in abandonment, you could view it as.

So I sat here for almost an hour when a French family came up to me and asked something. It was do I need all these chairs.

Oh my god. 

I got excited and elated and happy. Because oh my god. People saw me and acknowledged me.

They took my fucking table. Moved it over and turned their backs on me. As I was tearing up, the woman turned and curtly said, “thanks.”

I almost started bawling my eyes out, then and there. 

Sometimes when a woman is sitting by herself, she wants someone to talk to, not to be put in the corner like the thirty year old cat lady that she is. A person says they are alone…

SO YOU TAKE HER FUCKING TABLE AND LEAVE HER ALONE.

Fuck people. Fuck people to fucking hell and back. Are you fucking kidding me? This is what everyone does and Dorian is just all, “go out and make friends.”

Know why I can’t make friends? Because people are fucking assholes, that’s why

 Fuck the world, let’s burn it to the ground and start again. Bam, asteroid in The Ark world ends nearly everyone dies. Maybe put a couple fuckers out the air locks. 

I’m a harmless human being. I don’t bite. Talk to me. You don’t have to buy my coffee, but talk to me. When you ask about my table and I say yes and smile, sit at my table. Engage me, be social.

Don’t be a fucking dick.

I am human. 

I have human emotions and needs.

But other humans subvert my needs for theirs. Always, constantly, and over and over again.

I recently made a new friend and when I pointed out that I’m “crazy” she said, “all I see is action and reaction. They do this thing and then you react like this. It’s not crazy. You’re allowed to have an emotional reaction.”

And you know what? She’s right. I’ve never told someone who wronged me to go fuck them fucking selves. 

I’ve cut them off. I’ve said no. I’ve declined to comment and eventually I just stop responding. Maybe I should tell people more often.

Bitch, I have a fucking voice and was raised by fucking sailors. Fuck your whore mouth and the woman who spawned you.

Or… people can sit down and talk to someone instead of literally leaving them in the corner by themselves with no one to talk to. 

Fucking humans.

This is my Home Dress

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Tonight is our last night at the resort. I found out that the day job scheduled me Saturday. Not my day to work. Ffffuuucccck

I can’t text anyone so I had to go through Facebook until I found someone who I work with.

We did Japanese tonight.

I don’t like the food in this place. Beth cooks much better. Here it’s… ugh. Dorian loved it, but he could eat a live fish and think it was a great thing.

The dress I wore tonight is my favourite. I wear it at home and bend over as Dorian sputters, thinking I’m doing it on purpose.

Of course, I am.

The thing is, I’ve never worn this outside. Or… with a bra. Fuck.

At dinner, he nudged me. Ever so carefully, he made eye contact and tilted his head. So I looked over and discovered an older man eyeing me up like a piece of meat.

This never happens. So I looked down, then to Dorian. Who put a bit of food in his mouth and smiled at me, tilting his head ever so slightly the other way.

So I looked over and found the man’s wife. Not hard, considering she was trying to murder me with her eyes. 

“Oh my god, am I the hot one?” I asked, looking around the restaurant.

“I’d do you,” Dorian murmured behind his water glass.

We finished dinner. Ishk. Then up to the lobby to use the last of my Internet to try and track someone at work down.

Holy shit, looking up another man just… wtf.

Need to wear this dress more often.

Anyhow!

We get up here, I’m on the net and Dorian leans over, tapping me gently.

“Aya, look down.”

So I look down. Now. My view is boob and more boob.

Then I see it. My bra, sticking out the side.

So I adjust as he laughs behind his glass and orders me another drink.

Someone isn’t getting laid tonight. In fact, I might just make him sleep on the porch!

Ew

Posted on by Aya DeAniege

Today was the best yet. So hot. We went swimming a couple times and the last time I came upon Dorian with that same grin on his face.
“It’s cold, why are you happy?” I asked.

“You know what’s nice?” He asked.

“No,” I said, swimming closer. 

“Peein’ in da ocean,” He said.

“OH MY GOD,” I shouted, swimming away from him.

“She’s doing it,” he said. And he vaguely motioned to a woman. 

Who got in the ocean, got it over her waist, then seemed to make a face and get out again.

Oh my god.

“Pee, Aya,” Dorian said.

“Fuck you, and your fucking face.”

We came up with a compromise, but oh my god. If you ever go someplace tropical, look around. Someone is probably peeing.