Tag Archives: Women’s fiction

To World Book Day, Waterstones and Being Delusional

For what seems like my entire life, the gift I have loved to receive far and above anything else has been a shiny, new, book-smelly, book. And none more so than a hardback – a pleasure I can’t often indulge myself in these days, given the additional cost factor.

For a long time, I did think this made me a bit different. None of my friends in school talked of a love of books; no one in my family was an avid reader except my dad, who hoarded them all over the house like scattered dust, but sadly, didn’t live long enough to tell me much about his love for them. All these years later, I do like to think my bookish mania was sent from his heart to mine.

The first books I remember being given as a gift has a special place in my memory though, and I was probably only about eight at the time. They were from my older sister, Linda, and they were two hardbacks: a beautifully illustrated copy of ‘The Wind in the Willows’ by Kenneth Grahame and ‘Watership Down’ by Richard Adams. I6a00d8341c84c753ef0168eb87d246970c-800wi remember loving them completely and breaking the first one open on Christmas morning, the way children nowadays might stuff in to the first of six chocolate filled selection boxes and the latest Xbox game.

My first love was books and I always felt this made me a little strange, having no bookish friends that I knew of. I have spent years taking off from the crowd to wander into grand bookshops like Waterstones by myself, not to be found again for several hours. While many of my school pals were licking the windows at boob-tube tops and Rah-Rah skirts in TopShop, I was stroking pretty book covers whilst being weirdly intoxicated by the delectable aroma of paper, ink and adhesive. I was no glue sniffer; I was a book sniffer and not yet proud of it. I told no one.

Then one day, as as slightly older fifteen-year-old, I rode my bike through town on the way to school and spied a gorgeous, white, boob-tube dress that took my fancy. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen and every day – for about a month – I stared at it as I cycled by, wishing it could be mine but knowing it had a price tag my hard-up mother would balk at. I dreamed of that dress and it was a dream I could tell my friends about had I chosen to, because loving new fashions was cool, of course. But I didn’t.

I remember spending an extraordinary amount of time thinking about that dress. How the boy I was mad about at school would notice me at last if I wore it to the school youth club disco. How much I would feel like Madonna in it. I must have imagined myself in that dress, wearing the pair of white lace, finger-less gloves I did own, singing, ‘Like a Virgin,’ for weeks.

Then one night my mother came home screaming that she had had a huge win at the bingo. Hooray! We could buy new clothes instead of being gifted second hand ones from friends with older daughters. The very next day, I walked in to the shop that had almost made me fall off my bike countless times and bought my dream dress.

As a young girl, I told no one of what I thought was my extraordinary love of books or my ‘delusional’ dreams of myself in that dress and as an adult, I’ve told no one of the amount of times I have pictured my own books on the shelves of Waterstones, WHSmiths and Foyles. How many times I’ve mentally placed them between Marian Keyes and Sophie Kinsella in airport shops. No one knew just how delusional I was – until now.

Last month, I had word from my publisher, Fledgling Press, that my book launch event for the paperback of ‘The New Mrs D‘ would be in Waterstones in Glasgow. Because I pictured it so often? Or because it is written… so to speak? 😉 We shall _78300969_waterstones_tweetsee, because, my delusions include getting locked in one night like this lucky guy…

Happy World Book Day! And stay delusional.

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My book launch for the paperback of ‘The new Mrs D’ is at Waterstones, Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow on 30th April 2015 at 6.30pm. I’d be thrilled to see you there, if you happen to be in the vicinity. Please stop by 🙂

The Rollercoaster – 29,000 Downloads Later

Remember this scene from the 1980’s comedy film, Parenthood?

If you follow my progress you will know two significant things have happened to me lately:

1) I left my agent and found my novel, ‘The New Mrs Dunpublished with a loss of my sales rankings and
2) I held a three day free promotion last week in an attempt to push the book back in to the charts.

It worked.

Last week, 29,000 people downloaded ‘The New Mrs D‘ for free, giving me what I hope will turn out to be a substantial new readership. Hooray!

And many authors are asking me how it happened. So as always, I am only too happy to share as much as I know here.

Firstly, I went to www.fiverr.com and paid for three services at $5 a time. A promo video, an SEO expert to share my video link as many times as possible and a marketer to send details of my book promotion to forty websites.

I also successfully managed to secure a small advertisement with www.bookbub.com. Bookbub only accept something like 10-20% of submissions I believe and require that you have a certain amount of five star reviews. But I do credit this with the huge spike of downloads I achieved on the very first day.

I paid what was at the time, just over $30 to have The New Mrs D promo mailed out to a 210,000 strong mailing list of fans of chick lit. The prices have risen a little lately, but you can find them here.

What’s great is that although I didn’t have the funds to reach the 1,030,000+ subscribers of their women’s fiction list ($245) The New Mrs D reached the no1 best selling humour spot on both the Amazon UK and US free stores list for the entire length of the promotion. It’s highest ranking over ALL of the free store books was no4 in the UK and no7 in the US – beating many of the other BookBub promoted novels for those days who would have accessed the one million plus mailing lists. Not at all bad!

What I didn’t do was tweet my book link constantly or flash post to hundreds of Facebook pages. Some people may have done that for me through the Fiverr.com gigs, but not I. I simply do not believe it works. I did write a blog post and share it across my social channels and I did share the promotions progress over the three days. I also manually entered the book to around twenty free ebook promoting websites. And that is it, the sum total of my efforts.

As I type, The New Mrs D is no 20 in the best selling literary humour chart, just ten places behind Helen Fielding’s ‘Mad About The Boy’. Maybe it will stay, maybe not. Maybe it’s a post promotional lucky spike in sales that will tail off. Only time will tell.

But what a roller coaster! It’s thrilling and hard and scary and up, down, up, down and round and round. What a ride, this writerly life.

I like the roller coaster.

Back to book two!

Those lovely folks at Novelicious.com made me this.
Those lovely folks at Novelicious.com made me this.

Those lovely folks at Novelicious.com made me the quote opposite. Read my full interview on the site HERE

If you wish to know the specific details of services I used on Fiverr, please email me at hell4heather@gmail.com

I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have in the comments here also!

Laughing inappropriately and Other Guilty Confessions

Womens comedyI spied a Twitter profile today which said, ‘laughs inappropriately. Even at funerals.’

At first I was outraged… and then I remembered I have done this.

Before you click away from here, let me attempt to explain myself. You see, I was young, naïve and completely horrified when it happened.

My thirteen year old self and the boy next door, Ian, had befriended the lonely old lady that lived across the road from us. Her name was Betsy and Ian and I would go around outside of school hours helping her in little ways; going to the shops for her and tidying her garden.  (See? Nice, friendly, Girl Guide type here). So we were very sad after she died and jumped on a bus into town alone on the day of the funeral to pay our respects at the crematorium. We possibly took flowers to her from her own garden, but, then… we were thirteen.

On arrival we found the service already in full, erm, ‘swing’ and so  jumped into some seats right at the back before snivelling through the service, even joining in with a hymn. I remember one or two people looking back at us with quizzical expressions, no doubt wondering who the heck we were. Only to be expected; we’d never met any of Betsy’s relatives.

Then the minister got to saying something along the lines of this:

‘We have come together from different places and we are all at different stages on our journey through life. Our paths are varied and we look at life in different ways.’

We are nodding. I have tears in my eyes. Ian places one arm around my shoulder and passes me a tissue.

‘But there is one thing we all have in common…’

I look at Ian, my eyes saying, ‘it’s true, we do. We all loved Betsy.’ *sniff*

‘…at one point or another, our lives have touched the life of Margaret….’

That was when it happened – the inappropriate laughing thing. Not loud belly laughs you understand. More of a stifled guffaw as we realised with horror we were at the wrong funeral and dived out of the door before really letting it all out, to outraged stares from the undertakers who had been busy solemnly placing the funeral flowers on the pavement outside.

But it was nervous laughter. You see, we couldn’t hold it in. It was like trying to suppress a sneeze and I’m utterly convinced I’m going to hell for it. Dear reader, I swear, to this very day I feel awful whenever I think of it.

It was the guilty laugh; the embarrassed laugh. The ‘did that really just happen?’ laugh. It is what has happened to me many times over the years while stood in crowded lifts (for no reason at all), when people trip in front of me in the street, when the nurse about to take my son’s blood pressure bends down to get her notes, lets out an accidental fart and continued seriously on like it hasn’t happened. When the doctor examining my boy’s broken arm on the same day said, in very broken English, ‘we’ll have to take it off’. And yes, before realising he meant the plaster cast, not the arm. I was laughing because I thought the doctor was recommending amputation – but, to be fair, my son laughed too. It was a NERVOUS LAUGH. Honestly.

Shocker – this awful thing is hereditary.

Let me attempt to explain the phenomena that is the nervous laugh more clearly:

In my early twenties I worked as an auxiliary nurse and one morning myself and a colleague had been given the unenviable task of bed bathing a recently deceased lady on a low lit ward, in her bed, with the curtains pulled round as the other patients slept. The old lady had passed peacefully with her eyes closed, yet as we struggled to tug her nightie over her head for her wash, the neck of the garment caught on and lifted her eyelids. As we peered down to find her eyes now wide open, both of us jumped back, alarmed, before bursting into nervous laughter. The ward Sister had not been so amused.

‘What on earth is going on in here?’ She’d hissed, while poking her head in through the curtains, making us jump a second time.

I really am going to hell, aren’t I? But we were terrified. We thought the old lady was a) looking at us b) returned from the dead and c) going to need her nightie back on. I do like to think that she was somewhere on the sidelines watching us, having a last giggle at her joke at our expense, before heading to some more peaceful place than this.

However, I can’t help it. Whilst I have the utmost empathy in most sad, difficult or embarrassing situations, life has always seemed to hand me inopportune comedy gold. And yes, often the joke is on me. Check out what happened last time I ever went to the gym in this post: Who’s Laughing Now?Untitled

Only two weeks ago I was struggling to open the lift in Edinburgh Premier Inn, which only worked if you put in your room key card, when I turned to the stranger beside me and complained:

‘God, I miss real keys. I hate these things.’

He then proceeded to show me how to work it properly before very seriously explaining to me that he was the person who had installed the entire system at the hotel.

Me: *Snorts*
Because of course, he was joking.

Him (still straight-faced): ‘No, it’s true. I work for the company that invented them.’

Most people would apologise or at least have the decency to look mortified. I found myself stifling inappropriate laughter all the way to the fifth floor, which was where I jumped out – glad to be free – and found him following me. He was getting out at the same floor and had to point out the direction of my room for me.

If there is a special kind of hell for people with inappropriate laughing disease, I have a one-way, first class ticket.

For my new novel (she adds in seamlessly), I’ve been studying the Pseudobulbar Affect, which is a neurological disorder involving unpredictable and uncontrollable emotional displays of, among other things, inappropriate laughing. So I may get back to you sometime in the future with the kind of personal diagnosis that will explain everything. Or, I may have been tied in to a strait jacket with locks built by the man from ComparetheKeycard.com

Finally, and I’m aware you might not want to do this now given my confessions of previous, seemingly callous behaviour, I must tell you that The New Mrs D is available to download FREE for three days from tomorrow – 3rd to the 5th of December. I’m giving it away as penance for evil acts. I do hope you will download it… and laugh appropriately.

Here’s a short video all about it.

Note: Names have been changed to protect identities. Except mine. Yours truly, Sharon Osbourne.

Hello Google, Are You There?

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How odd.

I was looking at The New Mrs D on Amazon UK on Saturday morning, just 24 hours after it became available for pre-order, when I noticed the line:

#60 on Amazon’s Bestselling Women’s Fiction Humour List.

I blinked. I did a little wink. I refreshed the page. And, as I thought… I was wrong.

#28 on Amazon’s Bestselling Women’s Fiction Humour List

Wha?

I went to my personal Facebook page and posted a status to family and friends that started something like this:

I’m not sure how all this works, but my book appears to be on Amazon’s Bestselling Women’s Fiction Humour List. Is this some kind of mistake or a fluke?

Someone commented that they didn’t realise I could play the fluke. I chuckled. Yeah, it’s a mistake.

I Googled, ‘how does Amazon sales ranking work?’ Like the expert, know-it-all author I am.

‘Oh that’s easy,’ said Google. ‘You’ve sold some books and now you are in the Amazon book charts.’

‘You mean, someone bought my book?’ I typed in the search box.

‘Look,’ said Google. ‘This space is a virtual search engine, not your own wannabe writer advice line.’

Okay, so I elaborated a little there…

After twelve publisher rejections and a few agent comments on my book being, ‘very funny but unmarketable’, there it is/was, on an Amazon best seller list – before it has even been published. My agent assisted, self published book.

I say ‘is/was’ because a couple of more seasoned authors have sent me various messages along the lines of, ‘take a screen print while it lasts.’

Sad but true. This felt like another rejection letter. One of those, ‘don’t you dare get excited about the future because the public doesn’t want you,’ ones.

Okay, it might not last. And I did take that screen print.

The New Mrs D on amazon

But you can’t take away my dream that it might last. You can’t stop me being stoked about being there on a list I’ve looked at countless times before, admiring the work of some of my favourite authors and looking for some new reads. You can’t stop me making little cut and paste pictures with me at number one for my own amusement. Just jesting! (No she’s not – Ed)

Yesterday, for one glorious moment in my authoring life, The New Mrs D reached number eleven in that chart. For one glorious moment I was TEN places behind Helen Fielding’s Mad About The Boy.

Can I just enjoy this moment please? If it does become my very own mini Andy Warhol time, I’ll take it anyway. 🙂

A huge thanks to EVERYONE who pre-ordered. I’m doing a little dance as I type. Well, I need a wee…

And this for all the aspiring writers out there. Don’t let them hold you back. It’s not over until you say it is.