HOW TO GET YOUR eBOOK TO GO VIRAL

Go to Vesper's fun blog:
http://chickwithaquill.blogspot.com/


for a fun, detailed review of LUCIFER'S ORPHAN

BUT NOW:

Have you been curious 

about Meilori?

Who she is?

What she is?

How does she deals with those around her?

See for yourself

in 

{Only 99 cents}

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FPFOJNO

Three days go my visitor tally shot up to 900 daily.  Two days ago 1100 visited my blog.  Today 1300 visited.

SO HOW DO YOU GET YOUR eBOOK TO GO VIRAL?

It is beyond social media.  

You can’t tweet or Facebook yourself into viral status. Your publisher can’t even make it happen. 

 It rarely happens to the common A-list author names – 

 they became A-listers after their viral debut – it’s usually something fresh, from a fresh face.

 The criteria for putting your book into a position to go viral is almost exactly that associated with getting published in the first place.  

The book has to work.  Really, really well.
 
That said, viral books tend to do a couple of specific things really well: 

1.) They are often “high concept” (rather than character-driven, even though they introduce great characters),

with exceptional execution across all the story basics.

2.)  They also deliver something else, almost without exception: they seize the inherent compelling power of underlying story physics in way that exceeds the competition.

These two realms of story – 
compelling concept, 
with exceptionally strong underlying essences, is what gets you into the viral game.

YAWN! Right?  Isn't that what everyone does?




Not really. 

They don’t address these as goals.  

 Some authors just write their story, write it well, let it evolve organically, and hope somebody out there gets it.  

This may get them published, but it doesn’t usually get them on Oprah Winfrey.

 The viral book is driven by hero empathy, 

while delivering a vicarious ride.

  It isn’t the plot, and it isn’t character.  

No, this is about the reader.

 It’s about the reader transporting themselves into this world… going on this ride… feeling it… wanting to be the hero… 

wishing it was them… 

the reader completely engaging in this journey 

on a personal level.

More of this in other posts ...

REMEMBER:

You can still get FREE:

Thank all of you for making this #6!

• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #3,975 Free in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Free in Kindle Store)
  • #6 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Education & Reference > Writing, Research & Publishing Guides > Writing Skills

LEARN TO WRITE BETTER AND LAUGH ALONG THE WAY!

 {Hit your cursor on the cover to be taken to the Amazon book page}

HOW HAVE I INCREASED MY VISITORS?

I do not know for sure but lately I have:

1.)  GIVEN 2 FREE BOOKS AWAY EACH WEEK

2.)  DONE EVERY FEW DAYS A DIFFERENT INTRO FOR MY SHORT STORY IN WENDY'S ANTHOLOGY.

3.)  WEEKLY DID A POST TO BUILD UP INTEREST IN SIV MARIA'S EXCELLENT SECRETS OF THE ASH TREE (not just one on the day everyone else did).

4.) PARTICIPATED IN TWO HALLOWEEN BLOGHOPS, INCLUDING A 3RD: MY OWN

5.) OFFERED FAIRLY NEAT PRIZES IN SEVERAL CONTESTS OF MY OWN.

6.) PUT OUT A NEW BOOK AT 99 CENTS.

7.) WROTE POSTS CENTERING ON ISSUES AUTHORS AND GENERAL READERS WOULD BE DRAWN TO.

My increased traffic might be due to some of those or none of those.  Unlike Ratatoskr, I admit I am mostly clueless!

Here is a trailer for a movie that went viral.  See how it drew in the audience:

LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION! RATATOSKR!

"Wake up, Roland!"

My eyelids were pried open by tiny furred, clawed fingers.  "WAKE UP!"

I suddenly realized I was no longer in my bed but was slumped in my chair at my table at Meilori's, the haunted French Quarter jazz club.

"Aw, Ratatoskr!  I haven't slept since Friday night."

Perched on my table, the Asgardian squirrel inhaled an entire bar of Melkesjokolade chocolate in a single bite.  "Sleep?  Sleep!?  I never sleep!"



He poured the contents of an entire sugar bowl into a glass of ice tea and gulped it down in three swallows, and I muttered, "What a surprise."

A ghost slowly materialized beside me in a director's chair.  I stiffened as Alfred Hitchcock intoned to the Asgardian squirrel, "You promised me an epic, rodent!"

[Photo courtesy of Stan Osborne]


Another ghost formed beside him.  Aw, jeez.  A young man in wig, Victorian dress, and long, long knife.



"You promised I would be entertained," shrilled the man in a falsetto voice.

Ratatoskr reared on his hind legs outraged, "You doubt Ratatoskr?  You will see an Epic!  An Epic!"

Meilori's darkened much to the displeasure of everyone else in the club, and a misty image of a book's cover enlarged to fill the room:



"Jack," gravely intoned Hitchcock.  "if that cover is not soon replaced with an epic, you may have  ...  fun with the squirrel and the scribbler."

"Ratatoskr!" I snapped, grabbing the squirrel by the throat and shaking him.

The Squirrel chittered, "I am not in need of fluffing, Roland!"

The knife flashed up.  Ratatoskr wiggled out of my fingers and gestured with his own.  Siv Maria's cover was replaced by flowing images and music:

Hitchcock nodded ponderously, "Interesting. Evocative. But no dialogue."

'Jack' shrilled, "No sex!"

And with that, the ghost took off after a yelping, scampering Ratatoskr. 

Hitchcock turned to me and sighed, "Modern audiences these days.  All they want is sex and blood."

Follow Siv this week to see what the Norse gods have to say.

 http://sivmaria.blogspot.com/

Each day this week Siv will be giving away prizes which include an autographed copy of Secrets of the Ash Tree

including a print of the Freya illustration, a 15 dollar gift certificate from Amazon, assorted norwegian chocolates and trolls.

Come back tomorrow for a peek at what a few Norse Gods think of the Secrets of the Ash Tree and another glimpse of the most unusual club, Meilori's.

NORSE NIGHT AT MEILORI'S

Did you know there are no ceilings in Meilori's?

Most times you can only see rolling layers of mist.  Other times you catch glimpses of sparkling, swaying branches, their leaves chiming in songs old when first the angels flew.

If you peer closely you will see the fluttering wings of Vedfolnor,

the eagle who is thinking of new insults for Ratatoskr to fling at the dragon, Níðhöggr (Malice Striker)

who eternally gnaws at the roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasil.

I was alone at my table at Meilori's, trying to recover from my interviews with Jeremy Hawkins and Alex Cavanaugh when I heard tapping BENEATH the floor to my right.

Yes, there are floors at Meilori's.  Mostly crimson carpet with random squares of mirror cast like stars in a dappled night sky.  (Elu gets hungry).

I looked down at the mirror which seemed to be vibrating like a  boiling steam kettle. 

Suddenly, a large red squirrel burst from the mirror, sending sharp shards up in a deadly cloud of razored light.

"Ratatoskr!" I exclaimed.  "That's 7 years of bad luck."

Ratatoskr happily chittered as he scrambled up onto my table top.  "Your superstition not mine.  Not mine!"

He eyed my glass of ice tea and took it in his two front claws and gulped. 

He made a face as if poisoned --"Pooie!"

The red squirrel snatched the sugar bowl and emptied its whole contents into my glass, taking a deep, sloppy gulp. 

"Peeerfect!"

"Now I know why you're so hyper!"

Ratatoskr reared up on his hind legs.  "Hyperion?  You are thinking Olympus.  I am of Asgard.  Asgard!"

He scrambled up on my shoulder and leaned his ear next to mine.  "OOOOH!  I hear the sounds of the sea!"

"Very funny."

Ratatoskr snickered, "I thought so.  I am too late for Siv Maria's interview?"

I groaned, "That's coming October 8th and 9th!"

Ratatoskr shook his tiny left wrist at me.  "Watches I do not carry."

"You mean calenders."

"Those either," he gleefully chittered.

"Ratatoskr, you're supposed to have a question I can give Siv to answer, too."

The huge red squirrel scampered all about the table and stopped to take another huge gulp of the ice tea so full of sugar, the contents looked as if a snowstorm was swirling in its amber depths.

"Oh, I have a question: 'What did one dragon say to the other?"

"What?" I said with dread.

"Mother said there would be knights like these!"

Ratatoskr fell on his back giggling and holding his furry tummy.  He scampered back to his rear legs.

"Oh, I have another one -- What did Níðhöggr say when he saw St. George?"

"I don't want to know."

Ratatoskr answered anyway.  "Oh, no!  Not more tinned food!"

My table shook violently, and I was hurled from my flying chair.  An emerald head the size of a Mack truck thrust up from the splintering floor. 

"I HEARD THAT, YOU FURRED RAT!" roared Níðhöggr.

Ratatoskr yeeped and scampered at the speed of light up the massive trunk of Yggdrasil that suddenly shimmered to my left.

Without having seen her arrive, Alice Wentworth, her hands billowing acid mist, was at my side and murmured,

"Dragon, I wonder how your eyes will taste?"

Victor's mother, in long black robes, her face an eternally laughing skull, spoke in the sounds of crushed, withered leaves,

"Níðhöggr, do not rush your time."

The dragon grumbled something about hiding behind women's skirts and went back under the floor of Meilori's.

Samuel McCord strolled up to me, and I groaned inside, but he only winked, "I'm gonna have to charge you extra for all that sugar, son."

BE HERE OCTOBER 8TH AND 9TH

FOR SIV MARIA'S

NORSE GODS BLOGFEST

RAGNAROK WILL SEEM MILD

COMPARED TO THOSE POSTS!

***

TOMORROW:

HER BONES ARE IN

THE BADLANDS

WHEN WINTER MAKES YOU S.A.D.

{Winter courtesy of the lovely Leonora Roy}

Winter casts her sorcerous spell of depression on too many.

Siv Maria:

http://sivmaria.blogspot.com/

talked of how winter casts her gloomy spell upon her each year. She is not alone.

Seasonal affective disorder, or SAD, is a form of depression that affects 25 million Americans, mostly women.

Much research has been done on this mysterious disorder.
In somewhat of a simplification, the lack of light in wintertime can result in lower levels of serotonin, the mood-enhancing chemical that regulates hunger and the feeling of well-being.

Serotonin production increases with light, meaning that gray gloom creeping in the window is not kicking the production of feel-good chemicals into action.

Some symptoms include depression, marathon napping, low self-esteem, obsessiveness over little things, irritability, shyness, and panic attacks.

People with seasonal affective disorder may also sleep poorly (although for many hours), partly because they don't have enough serotonin to convert to the sleep substance melatonin.

Symptoms can range from mild to severe, and people generally recover completely around April or May - once the days become longer.

Treatment includes light therapy and/or medications. However, there are things you can do yourself that can help boost serotonin levels.

3 Ways to Boot up Your Serotonin

Julia Ross, MA, is director of the Recovery Systems Clinic in San Francisco and author of The Mood Cure and The Diet Cure. She tells WebMD there are three ways to jump-start your serotonin:

• Subject yourself to bright indoor light. This is the touchstone of seasonal affective disorder treatment. Many pricey lights are available. Ross says a 300 watt bulb within three feet for 20 minutes three times a day can help, although the boost in serotonin may be temporary.

• Exercise. This is very hard to do when caught up in the seasonal affective disorder cycle. But if you can force yourself to start, 15 to 20 minutes of dancing to the radio or fast walking can reduce a sweet tooth and improve mood.

• Eat wisely. This means, pushing away the leftover cake and eating sensible carbs to stimulate serotonin. Sweets and simple carbs, like white rice and white bread, quickly raise blood sugar, flood you with insulin, and then drop you in a hole.

Eating wisely also means watching the caffeine, which suppresses serotonin. "If you must drink coffee, save it for after the meal," Ross says.

• Protein, she says, should be eaten three times a day. Another good rule is to eat four cups of brightly colored veggies a day. "This is enough to fill a (pardon the expression) 1 quart ice cream container."

Vegetables are carbs, but the kind that feed into your system slowly.

• Samantha Heller, MS, RD, senior clinical nutritionist at the NYU Medical Center, tells WebMD it's best to substitute fruit for cookies and chocolate ice cream. In general, the good carbs of veggies, fruit, and beans help energy levels.

• "If weight gain in the winter months is your concern," Heller says, "you should get a healthy eating plan from a registered dietitian."

• Timing Is Also Everything

• It's fashionable to urge people to eat half a dozen small meals a day, but this is an individual preference, Heller says.

• "If you eat lunch at one o'clock and know you won't have dinner until eight o'clock, you may need a snack. If you eat junk food for lunch, by four o'clock you will be foraging for chocolate."

• She urges people to try eliminating all white, starchy foods for two weeks -- bread, rice, potatoes. "You will be amazed at how good you feel," she says. "But you need to stick to it to see a difference."

• Even as a nutritionist, she admits to having experienced the opposite. "I was going to visit my mother and bought a muffin for her and one for me," she says. "After I ate it, I felt like I had been drugged."

• That's another thing about seasonal affective disorder -- the lows are lower. If you are already serotonin-challenged, what you eat will have a bigger impact than in summer.


• Foods to Have on Hand

• If you suffer from seasonal affective disorder, you may be too snowed-in to run to the store. This can work for you if you keep fairly healthful commodities in the pantry. Some suggestions:

• Popcorn
Oatmeal (original, not desserts)
Nuts
Egg whites for omelets
Peanut butter
Prewashed veggies
Fruit
Whole grain crackers and bread
Deli turkey
Cottage cheese

• Forget the candlelight. In winter, dinner calls for 300 watts, and remove that shade!

IN A FRAGILE WORLD, SOME THINGS ARE ETERNAL

*

Siv, D.G., and Sia all commented on my prior post that they choose to live in a world without measurement or limits to curiosity or hope or love or the surprising nature of human nature.

I agree.

D.G. liked my response, so just in case some do not read my comments here it is:

Siv:
I, too, believe there are no limits to certain things but those that we place on them ourselves.

But there is a limit to the lifespan of those we love. That those lives are limited makes them more precious due to their transitory, fragile nature.

Our own lives have an expiration date. There is a foreclosure notice in the mails for each of our lives. Soon or late, the postman will come whether we want him to or not.

To be aware of that is to savor each moment, to make life more not less.

I have counseled many whose last words to a family member were hurtful. They said them, not realizing that person's shelf life was nearly up.

D.G.:
Jorge Luis Borges is one of the founding fathers to what is called Magical Realism. And I pray each day to keep a child-like sense of wonder and surprise of life. :-)

Sia:
Yes, indeed, scents and touch can trigger so many latent memories. I believe Jorge was trying to remind us not to take anyone or anything for granted. All flesh is grass and no bloom remains forever.

But there are other limits denied that saddened me:

Childhood has an end. Yet some parents try to keep their children dependent all their days, crippling them.

Some look in the mirror and see wrinkles as dreaded signs of the end of youth. They deny with bo-tox or surgery. They do not realize those wrinkles are signs of things lost, prices paid, and the eyes around which they lie are the wiser and kinder for the loss ... and the gain.

Passion has an end. Men race to another woman to regain it. That passion too ends.

Their lives become futile chasing after illusion. The men do not realize that though passion ends, something deeper more lasting, more rich evolves from the slumbering passion into the love of two souls grown into one.

I believe that limits guide us. They do not diminish us. They are signposts to better paths.

"The free, exploring mind is one of the most valuable things in the world," John Steinbeck.

Franklin Roosevelt wrote, "To reach a port, we must sail ... sail not drift. We must measure our course by stars we will never be able to touch."

We are limited by the finite grasp of our mind. To be aware of that fact is to enlarge the grasp of our minds not diminish them.

T.S. Elliot wrote: "We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."

The journey is one of loss ... loss of innocence, loss of our arrogance, loss of our rigidity in our "rightness."

Andre Breton said, " Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten."

Limits forge who we are in our thinking.

What you choose to focus your mind on is critical because you will become what you think about most of the time.

No horse gets anywhere until he is harnessed.

No stream or gas drives anything until it is confined.

No Niagara is ever turned into light and power until it is tunneled.

No life ever grows great until it is focused, dedicated, disciplined, limited.

The first rule of focus is this: "Wherever you are, be there."

The second rule of focus: "What we focus on expands."

Mark Twain's rule of foucs : "If you chase two rabbits, both will escape."

The fourth rule of focus: "Concentrate all your thoughts upon the work at hand. The sun's rays do not burn until brought to a focus."

So to be be aware of limits is to extend, not shorten, the reach of our mind and our lives. To make them burn as flames. The ghost of Mark Twain urges me to ask you to focus so that your life does not escape you.

Elu smiles at his white friend and merely says, "We do not change as we grow older; we merely become more clearly ourselves."

Once Hibbs, the cub with no clue, asked The Turquoise Woman, ""How does one become a butterfly?"

She answered softly, "You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar."

*Pietro Daverio: "Eternity".

Allegorical caryatid from the Monument to Charles Borromeo in the apse of the Cathedral in Milan (1611).

The statue holds in her hand the ouroboros (the snake eating its own tail), a symbol of eternity. Picture by Giovanni Dall'Orto, July 14 2007.

The copyright holder of this file allows anyone to use it for any purpose, provided that the copyright holder is properly attributed. Redistribution, derivative work, commercial use, and all other use is permitted.

AND THE WINNERS ARE!

These past 2 months to enter my contest all you had to do was write a post about or post a review on END OF DAYS.

DRAWING DAY has finally come!

(Sadly, Sandra is too ill from the chemo to draw the names as she wanted, so I used a random name selector that teachers use.)

THE WINNER OF THE ROBERT DOWNEY, JR. AUTOGRAPHED PHOTOGRAPH IS:

SIV MARIA!! Congratulations to the traveling Valkyrie!

THE WINNER OF THE AUTOGRAPHED BOOK, THE ART OF MICHAEL WHELAN, IS:

ALEX CAVANAUGH!! Congratulations to the Ninja Captain!

All right, guy and Valkyrie, send me your address via email so that I can pop your prizes in the post. Elu wanted to wisk me to your doorstep via mystic mirror, but I am allergic to sheer terror! :-)

AND NOW A WORD FROM VICTOR STANDISH:

"Nothing makes you remember like trying to forget."

THIS FRIDAY & ALL THIS WEEKEND THE RIVAL http://amzn.to/N117ds

is FREE! Don't miss this stand-alone novel of VICTOR STANDISH.

***

HART JOHNSON'S Spirit Guides and SIV MARIA'S Eye Spy!

Siv Maria (BEEN THERE, DONE THAT):
http://sivmaria.blogspot.com/

has surprised me this Wednesday with a spotlight on END OF DAYS. Please check her post out -- I would hate her comments to slump because of me!

But today is really HART JOHNSON DAY!

Yes, that best-selling author has graciously accepted my invitation to chat a bit here in this haunted blog of mine!

Spirit Guides

Thank you so much for having me, Roland! You are always such a wonderful, kind and gracious supporter and I'm honored to be here.

Since Roland's blog so often hosts kindly, or sometimes crotchety, but never particularly frightening, spirits, I thought it was a nice place to play tribute to two spirits that are with me always.

Alyse Oleson
Sylvia Carlson

Those of you who have bothered to memorize my pen name may recognize them. They are my grandmothers. A Noregian and a Swede. Both about 5'2”. Both 2nd of seven children (five girls and two boys in both families), and both embodying unconditional love an support.

Alyse and I , circa 1967 (she even thought I chewed measuring cups well)

I was very lucky to be born with all my grandparents and no small number of great grandparents (I remember three great grandmothers and one great grandfather and I know I had MET the another full pair, but they lived a few hours away and both died by the time I was four or five.--Still... a lot of grandparents)

But those two grammies were special. The one with the pies who let me watch her with the sheep and chickens (Sylvia), and the one who taught me dice, cards and 'pretty wine' (Alyse).

Each in their own ways, they supported every single thing I did like I was the best kid on the planet. And you get a couple cheerleaders like THAT and you know what ELSE you end up with?

Enough ego reserves to make it in this writing world. Perseverance really requires an underlying belief that it will pay off, and that belief has to come from SOMEWHERE.

My mom said it. But I was sort of a brat to my mom... mom saying it didn't make it real. If my GRANDMAS said it though... THAT was law. I could do ANYTHING.

The one in the middle is mine (Sylvia)... Though it's all family.

What would my grandmothers and their mischief have to say around here?

One (Sylvia) was more a solid life skills sort of woman with some rather far out ideas. She was raised Seventh Day Adventist, so vegetarian, alcohol free and healthy living, but also into all sorts oddball home remedies.

She was a gardener and crafter and sweeter than sweet.

My other grandma though, I spent Tuesdays and Thursdays with until I started school, then many after school days digging in her dress-up trunks. Imagination was nurtured.

She also had books—it was her dad who read Sleeping Beauty to my 400 times when I had the chicken pox because he was visiting from Iowa the summer I turned 5.

And it was her shelves where I fell in love with OLD BOOKS in the form of Mark Twain and Robert Louis Stevenson (books I still have and still love). Either one of these women could have passed me my mischief streak--they both had it. Both loved to laugh. And both made the people around them feel like the center of the world.


I think either one of these grandmas could have made those stuffy, serious guys lighten up...Twain is FAR more the style of both of them... no nonsense, common sense, but MAN with a good sense of fun.

I like to think I channel them a little when I play... and a lot when I believe in myself.

The Azalea Assault

Cam Harris loves her job as public relations manager for the Roanoke Garden Society. It allows her to combine her three loves, spinning the press, showing off her favorite town, and promoting her favorite activity.

She's just achieved a huge coup by enlisting Garden Delights, the country's premiere gardening magazine, to feature the exquisite garden of RGS founder, Neil Patrick. She's even managed to enlist world-famous photographer Jean-Jacques Georges.

Unfortunately, Jean-Jacques is a first-rate cad—insulting the RGS members and gardening, goosing every woman in the room, and drinking like a lush. It is hardly a surprise when he turns up dead. But when Cam's brother-in-law is accused and her sister begs her to solve the crime, that is when things really get prickly.

Alyse Carlson is the pen name for the author some of you may know as Hart Johnson. She writes books from her bathtub and when she isn't writing, does research for a large, midwest University or leads the Naked World Domination Movement (your choice).

Links

Barnes & Noble Paperback or Nook
Amazon Paperback or Kindle

Confessions of a Watery Tart