Motley Press Volume 1 Issue 6

Volume 1 Issue 6

The bag lady has gone skiing in the Alps, so the office is a lot quieter and far less aromatic.  Already we’re missing the aroma of vinegar and gin.  Cran, Fatima, Cindy and Rob are largely responsible for this issue, as the rest of the staff thought it best to form a search party when they heard that the bag lady was thinking of turning her attention to Yeti hunting.  Even though it’s been attempted to impress upon her that these creatures are usually spotted in the Himalayas, we strongly believe that she is one of that rare class of people who will probably spot them easily, when well oiled, wherever she may be.   Therefore blame for this issue can only be directed at those four previously mentioned, each of whom will point the finger at the others.

The WF nominated poem for this issue is “The Card” by Cindy Adame.  It’s hoped that we’ll be able to include a lot more work from members in future issues of Motley.  There are boards on writingforums.com where you may nominate the works of other members so please recommend any poetry, fiction or non-fiction you think deserves publication.

There have been some excellent submissions for this issue and the task of choosing hasn’t been made easy for the editors.  We present another excellent potpourri of literature and art for your entertainment and edification.

Motley

Publishing the eBook: The FAQs by Jules Older

Publishing the eBook:
The FAQs

Jules Older

On October 13, I got an email from a ski buddy. Was he embarrassed! He’d just spent an extremely uncomfortable night in the drunk-tank in beautiful Whistler, British Columbia. By the time he got to this:

   The invitation for my night’s accommodation came from a uniformed young man; I’m guessing 22. He wasn’t comfortable until he had my hands cuffed behind my back. And I felt shame sitting alone in the backseat of his Ford sedan. It was like being in a hockey penalty box on wheels. A friend of mine at Whistler who watched this encounter told me later that the young man was  “the kind of guy everyone picked on in high school, and now it was payback time.”

I was cursing the fact that the ski magazine I’d edited for lo those many years was no more. I was dying to publish this wonderfully written confession.

As I was when reading another article by a woman skiing legend. Hers was on skiing like a man.  It contained (if that’s the right word, and it isn’t), this riff:

   I remember I used to be told, “You’re the best woman skier I’ve ever seen!” and I always thought, “%$#@ you!” I want to ski like a man. We all do. I want to frequency male power; be like a giant, veiny phallus thrusting down the mountain. Like a hairy, naked savage running out of the cave. Like an F-16 blasting through Jell-O.

And then it happened. I knew how to publish both these stories and more. I’d publish an eBook and call it SKIING THE EDGE: Humor, Humiliation, Holiness and Heart. Exactly one month later, I had 21 chapters by 20 leading ski and snowboard writers ready to roll.

My first go as publisher. My first eBook. How sweet it is. And how scary. And what extraordinary writing.

If you’re thinking about publishing an eBook of your own, here’s what I’ve learned so far about publishing, promoting and avoiding future fights.

I understand there’s a fortune to be made in eBooks. Please confirm.

Yes, and the eStreets are paved with eGold.

No, I read this article about a housewife from—

I read it too. Made her fortune just by selling her novel — her many-times rejected novel — as an eBook.

Exactly. So, how do I do it?

Wish I knew. It hasn’t yet happened to me. Or anybody else I know.

OK, then, here’s a worry. I’m no nerd, and I’m not digital savvy. Can I really publish an eBook?

Yes. You’ve just described me, and I have.

I’ve heard that when you publish online, people can steal your stuff.

I’ve heard the same thing. Don’t let that stop you from doing it.

If I’m working with other writers, do they have to sign a contract with me?

Yes. That’s one thing everybody agrees on.

Is it enough to offer the eBook for sale on Amazon’s Kindle?

No. That’s the biggest player, but don’t neglect Apple, Sony and Barnes & Noble. Or home computers.

How do I reach them?

Through either SmashWords or BookBaby. Both companies reformat your Word document so it uploads to Kindle, iPad, Sony Reader and Nook.

SmashWords, BookBaby — which one is best?

They’re both good, both innovative, and since they both have clarifying websites, see which one works best for you. In my case, partly because I thought the process would go faster and I’d get the book out by the opening of the ski season, I went with BookBaby. I’m more than happy with the choice.

Why?

Very easy to work with. Very reasonable cost. Excellent job of formatting for the various platforms. Excellent helpline. Fast.

How fast?

I had the idea for the book on October 13. It was for sale on Amazon and iTunes December 1.

The next year?

The next month.

OK, how much should I charge for my eBook?

Oh, how I wish I knew. How I wish anybody knew. I went for $3.99, but only time will tell if that was smart or cripplingly wrong. We’re in the arena of mystery and magic. eBook prices range from free to every bit as expensive as old-fashioned dead-tree books.

What’s the quality of eBooks?

The full range, from utterly despicable to “I wish I’d written that.”

How bad is the e-competition?

It’s your worst nightmare. There are, by actual count, 38.5 gazillion eBooks already out there, all raising their hands and shouting, “Choose me! Choose me!” That’s your competition.

What can I do about it?

Write well. Edit well.  Use a strong and appealing cover. Publicize the bejeezus out of your book. Tell everyone you know about it — and get them to tell everyone they know.

Is there a best publicity tool?

A lot and different for everyone. In my case, as soon as SKIING THE EDGE went up on PitchEngine, interest in it grew. Not necessarily sales, but interest.

Are there other ways to publicize?

Definitely. Your local radio and TV stations. Hometown paper. Alumni magazine. Websites, Twitter, blogs, Facebook, LinkedIn, the works. Use ‘em all.

How about publicity opportunities to avoid?

Rule of thumb: If it costs more than $20, it’s more than likely a scam. Unless you’re shelling out big bucks for a publicist you know and trust, stick to the free and nearly free stuff.

Speaking of free, what about giving books away free to get the buzz going?

The practice has many advocates, but I’m not one of them. Long before the Digital Age, publishers were saying, “I can’t give you any, you know, money, but the exposure will be great for your career.” Didn’t believe it then; still don’t.

Anything else?

A little luck is always a good thing. Skill and insane persistence are even better.

Jules Older hangs out at http://julesolder.com. He opines about San Francisco restaurants and New Zealand life on the apps, San Francisco Restaurants and Auckland Insider. SKIING THE EDGE is available on every electronic and mobile platform, including computers.

Pink String Bikini by Dreamworx95

Pink String Bikini by Dreamworx95
    My sister’s bikini lay on the crisp white satin of the hotel bed. It was pink, it was small, and it was probably the sluttiest thing she’d owned before she went off to college. I guess she thought she was doing me a favor by giving it to me when I was old enough to fill it out. I’d never worn it, but I packed it before we left for Miami anyways. Looking back on it now it may have been a subconscious thing. I stood at the edge of the bed, staring at it and knowing it was a sure-fire way to get a certain someone’s attention.
    It was a while before I finally got the courage to put it on. I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know it didn’t leave much to the imagination, so I skipped that part. I put on my flip-flops and went down to the bar by the poolside, where I knew he would be.
    I took a seat in one of the tall stools at the counter and waited for the bikini to work its magic. My dad sat at the far end of the bar, completely oblivious to me.
“Hey, mind if I sit here?”
    I looked up to see the cute guy from the hotel gesturing to the seat next to mine.  I smiled. “Go ahead.”
    He sat down, looked me up and down.  “Haven’t seen you around. You just got here?”
    It made sense that he wouldn’t recognize me in the bikini. If I told him I was the fifteen-year-old girl who’d been staying in the hotel room next to his for over a week now, he’d probably get up and leave.
    “Yeah,” I answered.  “I just got here last night.”
    “Can I get you a drink?”
    I looked over my shoulder, at my dad. He wasn’t watching.  “Sure,” I said.
    “What would you like?”
    “Um…” I wasn’t familiar with any alcoholic drinks. “Whatever you want to get me.”
    He grinned and ordered for me. The bartender poured a whitish liquid inside a bell-shaped glass full of crushed ice. He put an umbrella in it and slid it in front of me.
    “I’m Dylan.” He held his hand out. I shook it.
    “Nice to meet you. I’m Meredith.”
    “That’s a beautiful name.”
    “Thanks.” I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip of the tangy drink. It was good. “I was named after my grandmother.”
    “That’s cool. I wasn’t named after anybody. I’m just Dylan,” he said sheepishly. I smiled at him again.
    Come on, work.
    “This is delicious.” I lifted the glass. “What is it?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve never had–”
    “Meredith.”
    Whatever it was Dylan was about to say, he didn’t get to finish because my father was suddenly there, looming over us. I didn’t try to hide my smile when I turned to look at him. Seething in anger, he snatched the glass out of my hand.
    “What are you doing?” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me off the stool.
    “Hey now.” Dylan stood to get between me and my dad, but my dad shoved him out of the way.
    “I’m her father.”
    Dylan looked down at me, confused. “Your father? How old are you?”
    “Fifteen,” I said.
    His eyes went wide. He looked back at my dad. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
    “You should have checked before you got her the drink,” my dad said venomously.
    “There’s nothing in that,” Dylan said. “It’s just a pina-colada. Virgin.”
    My dad looked like he wanted to rip his eyes out of his sockets at the word ‘virgin’. Dylan started backing away slowly.
    “Sorry,” he repeated. “You won’t see me again.”
    When he was gone, my dad took his shirt off and threw it over me.
    “Where the hell did you get that swimsuit?”
    “Elizabeth gave it to me.”
    “You go right up to your room. I’ll come deal with you in a minute.”
    “I’ll be waiting.” I looked over at Gabrielle, the woman he had been sitting with. She stared at the TV above the bar, disinterested in whatever it was she was watching.
    We’d met her on our first night here, in the hotel lobby. She’d tripped over my dad’s luggage and spilled her margarita all over him. She apologized profusely, but of course Dad was a sucker for a pretty lady, so he’d offered to replace her drink with a more expensive one. Every day since then they’d been hanging out together.
    I turned back to him, not smiling anymore.
    “Try not to get distracted,” I said. My dad didn’t say anything, just nodded his head towards the hotel. I started walking, not looking back to see him go over to Gabrielle and excuse himself.
    I waited in my room for him, sitting at the edge of the bed with my arms around my knees. He came in shortly after I did. He took a seat in the chair across from my bed.
    “What were you thinking?” he demanded.
    “Nothing. Just wanted to have some fun,” I said innocently. “Is that a problem?”
    “It’s a problem when your idea of fun is walking around half naked, talking to men who are visibly a decade older than you.”
    “Gabrielle goes topless on the beach all the time,” I shot back. “And she’s not even half your age.”
    “Is that what this is about?” he demanded. “You’re jealous of Gabrielle?”
There was nothing to envy about Gabrielle, except for the fact that she was hogging my dad.
    He shook his head and reached into his back pocket, taking out his wallet. He gave me a blue credit card.
    “I want you to go down to the hotel store and get yourself a one piece.” He stood up. “And if I see you talking to that man again, you’ll be grounded for the rest of your vacation.”
    “Have you noticed that this is the first time you’ve paid me any attention since we got here?” I said just as he was about to leave the room. He turned back to me, his hand on the doorknob, obviously eager to get back to Gabrielle.
    “You did this to get my attention? Well, rest assured, Meredith, you have it.”
When he left me alone in my room, I turned the credit card over in my hands. Maybe I would max it out today.

Julian DeFresne interviews Robert Staniford, author of The Star War Factor.

Julian DeFresne interviews Robert Staniford, author of The Star War Factor.

 

Julian DeFresne: I’ve read two collections of your poetry and I have to say I was challenged by the different layers you put into your work. I had your unique voice in mind when I started reading the novel, The Star War Factor. I made the mistake of expecting to see some of that same voice come through. I think it’s layered, as your poems are, but the point of view is very different. I was pleasantly surprised by this. Whish gives you greater satisfaction, the poetry or writing fiction?

Robert Staniford: I find both satisfying in different way. I get enjoyment from writing poetry and short stories but there’s definitely a far greater sense of achievement from completing a novel.

Julian DeFresne: Can you tell me what inspired this novel?

Robert Staniford: A number of things. I’d written a novel on the theme of a global nuclear catastrophe, resulting from weapons placements on space platforms, back in the seventies. That book contained a lot of the ideas for the Star War Factor. The outsider getting into the shelter with the elite was a central theme in that book. My surprise when I learned that I’d written about the things which Ronald Reagan came up with a few years later provided the basis for the plot of the new novel.

I also pulled in bits and pieces from two other novels, which I’d written and abandoned. The Star War Factor is really a collage of all three books. In addition to that, I’ve read several books which deal with the Biblical end times. They tend to be written by believers for believers. I wanted to introduce some of those themes in a way that would be more palatable to people who didn’t believe.

Julian DeFresne: So you want the book to carry a message?

Robert Staniford: I like all my work to carry some kind of message. I’d certainly be happy if people checked back some of the sources in the book and found some meaning through that. I think there are elements of the book which touch on the outrageous but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some real support for the outrageous. It also wanders into areas usually reserved for the conspiracy theorists. I believe that some of those theories have credence, particularly those which tie in with Biblical prophesy.

Julian DeFresne: The impression I got from reading the book is that when these themes come in, they’re written from the perspective of someone who is questioning the ideas rather than someone who is preaching them. Is that a fair assessment?

Robert Staniford: If that’s how you picked up on it then it’s achieved what I wanted.

Julian DeFresne: Getting back to what you said about your inspiration, is it fair to say that the novel has an autobiographical element to it?

Robert Staniford: Not at all. I’ve drawn on experience and observation, in the same way that many writers do, but only to add authenticity. Gilbert Morrison is a composite character; he contains characteristics of several people I’ve known. I’ve already been asked if he’s me and the answer is a definite “No”. Circumstances in his life are based on people I know.

Julian DeFresne: Well, if they were friends, are they still?

Robert Staniford: I don’t think they’d admit to recognising themselves in the character, or in any of the other characters in the book.

Julian DeFresne: The reviews I’ve read are all good and it seems the book has been very well received. Are you surprised by that?

Robert Staniford: Relieved is a better word. If I tried to be blasé about it then it would be arrogant. I’m glad that people like it and find it readable.

Julian DeFresne: I get the impression that you give credence to some of the conspiracy theory ideas but maintain a healthy scepticism, is that a fair assessment?

Robert Staniford: Definitely.

Julian DeFresne: The title page says “Book One”. What are we to expect from book two?

Robert Staniford: I’m tempted to just say, “Buy it when it comes out”. Book two brings establishments like H.A.A.R.P. into the equation. I don’t want to say too much about that because it would give too much away. It also focuses on the character of the new order, established in the wake of the catastrophe which the first book deals with. I’ve drawn on an interpretation of prophesy in the Book of Revelation as it was projected in Hal Lindsey’s book, The Late Great Planet Earth. That’s really where I get my protagonist from.

Julian DeFresne: You tend to take a wry view of Christianity in your book, where it’s mentioned.

Robert Staniford: Perhaps that’s true. I think when that subject arises in the book it’s approached through the eyes of those who question what they believe. I am a believer but I don’t desire to use the book to preach. As I said earlier, if I raise a question in someone’s mind then I’m pleased about that.

When it comes to Christianity, I don’t like those whose faith is mindless. The Christians who have impressed me are people who have had discernment and full control of their faculties. The book hints a couple of times at the Christian idea of the Rapture; the Church being taken up by God when His wrath is poured out on the Earth; what the Bible calls the Great Tribulation. From that perspective, it has to be kept in mind that any characters in the book who have Christian inclinations are those who realised too late to be a part of that.

Julian DeFresne: To wind this interview up, I’d like to say that I found The Star War Factor a very entertaining read. It was also quite thought provoking in places so I really believe you’ve achieved you aim. I wish you success with it and look forward to getting my hands on a copy of the second book.

Robert Staniford: Thank you.

Each New Day by Danny Fahey

Each New Day  by  Danny Fahey

Most of all I enjoy
the act of pulling on
fresh socks in the morning –
closest in sensation
to the unfurling of new leaves
in spring when the breeze
carries away the Earth’s weight,
gives the branches and thoughts,
for a moment,
the flight of birds.

I sit on the bed -
marvel every morning
at the ability to bend -
lift my left leg first,
always left, the way
of the rising sun,
place the sock on the toes
that wriggle, cheeky worms
to the early bird.
Then the right,
homage to the setting light,
Night – mysterious, painful,
a lover and parent.

Sometimes I freeze
in the act, not wishing to end it.
Geppetto must push my shoulder
to move me again
as if I, frozen in locomotion,
need a start to set
the parts on their path again.

When the socks are up,
their bands tight around
tanned calves, I move
always to the window,
push my head beyond the curtain
and call to the day
as if still the sapling that shakes
golden leaves into dreams.

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