Could a Computer Have Helped Shakespeare?

I will go out on a limb here and state that most everyone today, with the possible exception of JK Rowling when she wrote the first Harry Potter book, uses some form of computer, word processor, or technology-driven writing machine to compose their work. I am not including typewriters in this group because they cannot do the things that a computer can do. If you make a mistake on a typewriter, you get to re-type the entire page; especially if you are typing a term paper—at least that is the way it was when I was in college. No Whiteout allowed. In this example, one eventually becomes a better typist.  

Last week, I was having a particularly tough time laying down a scene for my next book. I found I was cutting and pasting, copying and moving and deleting, words, phrases, sentences, and yes, entire paragraphs, all in an effort to maintain its rhythm and make it sing. And as I adjusted the flow of the language, I realized that without the tools of the day, writing would be far more difficult for me, if not altogether impossible. At the least, it would be more than simply frustrating. I began to reflect on the Greats. The ones who came before, those who set the standards for the literature I totally ignored while in high school; much to my chagrin.   

I began to wonder how the great writers in literature managed without them: Poe, Orwell, Milton, Hemingway, Melville … the list goes on and on. Did they spend hours and hours re-writing as I do? By hand? Or were they like Mozart? A savant? A man who already had the symphony written in his head, and merely needed to transfer it to paper? 

Was Dickens or Tolkien like that? Or did they make mistakes? Would a computer have helped Shakespeare? Or would it hinder him—or any of them? An ordinary writer, I stumble through scenes, writing and rewriting until I hit the right “notes.” Even as I write this short piece, I am moving entire sentences, leaning on Spellcheck, and cursing those green squiggly lines that appear under entire passages. 

It boggles my mind to imaging Twain rewriting a scene from Huckleberry Finn over and over, and he had a pen that didn’t need an inkwell. To him, I expect the Conklin Crescent self-filling fountain pen was a leap forward in writing technology. But still…. 

No, I do not believe a computer would have helped Shakespeare, or any of them, become greater than they already are. They did not have the luxury to click a misspelled word and have it magically correct itself, or suggest the proper punctuation, or remind them to avoid passive voice. They had to possess the skills and the knowledge in order to apply it to the work. I believe that these “advancements,” as we call them, help us, but may have diminished them, ostensibly preventing their greatness from bursting through.  

These crutches allow, and perhaps endorse an individual's lack of understanding of the craft; curtail knowledge, so to speak, because the answers to questions unasked are right there at your fingertips. I find I need not remember phone numbers any longer because I possess a cell phone. In these instruments of artificially administered knowledge is created a mechanism that enables an average writer such as me, to get to the meat of the writing without knowing all the rules. For this I am eternally grateful, for without a computer to guide my way, I may have never completed a novel.  

But for the Great ones? … Well, I heard somewhere that Ms. Rowling wrote her first manuscript in a coffee shoppe by hand.    

I’ve always maintained that penning a novel is not about the writing, so much as it is about the story, but that assumes an acceptable level of proficiency. One can’t expect the computer to do the writing for them. The writer still needs to have some command of the basics. They still need to know which words to put on the “paper,” and in what order. There’s nothing easy about it. The computer allows the writer to focus on the story, and not so much the rules and regulations surrounding it. 

Please understand that in this post I infer no peers, and I draw these conclusions based solely on self-perceived inadequacies regarding my current knowledge of Grammar and English.

However, I still believe that I tell a hell of a good story, no matter how I get it wrote.   

  

DB

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What Was It Like? - An Interview with Cyrus Webb - BlogTalkRadio.com

Last Sunday evening I was fortunate enough to spend a little time on BlogTalkRadio-Conversations Live with Cyrus Webb, internationally known TV and radio host, to discuss my first novel, Chain of Evidence.

This was no small event … not for me at any rate.

Cyrus rubs elbows with the likes of Jackie Collins, Oprah, Michael Rooker of The Walking Dead, and more top-flight artists, entertainers and authors than I can mention here—and he actually interviewed me about the novel!

It was a very big deal, and all day, I was fine. Until I called in.

I began to sweat, because I was nervous—and I’m almost never nervous. Years ago I wrote a column for Examiner.com. One of the local FM talk show hosts had me on several times to talk about the material I reported on, and after a couple of minutes, the butterflies disappeared along with the stutter in my voice and the chirpy-quick speech pattern.

But that was a column I did for fun. I was never too serious about it, even though some of the subject matter occasionally qualified as such. I just didn’t get too excited. Now I have a book published, and folks like it, professional book reviewers like it, it holds 5-Stars on Amazon, and I’m still trying to get used to all of this.

When the Intrigue folks set up the interview with Cyrus, I mentioned it to one of the site managers I work with.

“Oh yeah," he said. "I know him.”

That was my first inkling that this was a big deal. I tried not to think about it, and honestly, there was so much going on the past few months that I didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

Then the book launch was over. It was a great success, and I took a week to bask in the glow, as they say. Silly me … I should have practiced speaking without saying, “UMM, and UHH” every other word, and I should have not used a headset. Being “I-talian,” as Maggie says, I tend to use Italian-speak and move my hands and my head and everything else above my shoulders when I talk ... everything except my brain. Had I moved that more, I wouldn't have done all those other things.

But, always gracious, Cyrus said to me the next day via Facebook, “You did great, DB. Was glad to have you on the show.”

See? Gracious.

So I am busily working on the next effort, and if I'm fortunate enough to again to be on with Cyrus Webb, I will be ready. 

DB

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Feedback

Well, I suppose you know by now that the Chain of Evidence book launch at Two Rivers Steak House in Pasadena, Maryland went off without a hitch, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Maggie and Mary and Delaney and Michelle. Lots of ‘M’ names for sure. Now I get a chance to sit back and see what I’m made of, or more exactly, what the novel is made of. The reviews are starting to trickle in, and I won’t burden you with them here, but should you care to read a few, you’ll find them on http://www.dbcorey.com/Media-and-Events.html. 

So far, the reception is good. One 3 star (on Goodreads—a rating, not a review), one 4 star and the rest 5 star on Amazon and others. Above average, I’d say, and four of those are professional reviews. 

Now it’s true I know a goodly portion of the folks writing the Amazon reviews, and I don’t count the ones I wrote for myself (kidding). I fully expected those folks to be positive and encouraging, and to some degree, liars. But they tell me they are being honest and speak the truth, so I believe them.  

Then I hear from folks I don’t know—and these are the ones who really surprise me—people who I wouldn’t know if I fell over them, people who heard of the book through word of mouth, or saw it in the paper, or read it because a “local” guy wrote it. One gal downloaded it to her Kindle, read it in two days, and liked it so much she asked me to send her a signed copy that she would gladly pay for.  

Blew me away.  

I’ve been hearing from folks I haven’t seen in twenty-five years. They’re finding me on LinkedIn and Facebook and readers are telling me how good the novel is, and how much they enjoy the local flavor, and want to know if the next one will be #2 in a series because the liked the protag. Some say they thought they had it figured out only to find they hadn’t. Others had inklings, and so far, no one has thrown the book across their living room.   

Most say that they can’t wait for the next one, and brother, I’m hoping I ain’t wakin’ up no time soon. 

The feedback is awesome and quite humbling, and the Intrigue folks told me this would happen last year when this all began— 

But Maggie, the love of my life, says I’m turning into a Diva.  

"You need a bigger office," she says. "To fit your head."

It’s not true, of course …

                                                                                                                                          

… just because I redecorated my office with pictures of me….

 OK … I’m only kidding.

 There’s just one.

 Poster size.

So Cloud 9 is way up there. And I’m on it. But I’ll be back down soon.

Maggie insists I keep my feet on the ground, and I always listen to Maggie.

Besides, it’s hard to write way up here.

DB

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In The Blink of an Eye

On Wednesday August 1^st, 2013, I achieved the goal of penning a published novel. It took me eight years. Some folks wait a lifetime; others, barely one. Therefore, you’ll understand when I say that I consider myself fortunate that the Word Gods favored me above some others who still labor, who still seek elusive Success; a cruel taskmaster that stays just beyond your reach, yet tantalizes you with images and imaginings of cover art and 20-city tours and lectures to throngs of the devoted who seek your audience at conventions and conferences. Success changes before your eyes, shifts its shape and appears nothing like it did when you began. It is the Brass Ring, The Lombardi Trophy, The Stanley Cup. It is a tease, a Siren who beckons, and you follow, because if you do not, if you give up, you will live forever in the shadow of failure. The “what ifs” will fuel your self-doubt, and your self-doubt will define you.

Well, that all sounds very literary, very profound, but it’s a bunch of crap!

Failure doesn't define you. It strengthens you! Educates you! Improves you!

That’s its function.

That’s why it exists.

Ever heard the term, “What doesn't kill you just makes you stronger?”

That’s Failure.

  

I started writing in 2005 only because I proposed a challenge to myself. I was fifty-six and hadn't done much more than my ol’ man. When I became an adult I got a job, bought a house, raised some kids, and hoped to retire for a little while before I died somewhere down the road—The American Dream, tarnished somewhat by the years. I challenged myself to write a book, just because I knew I’d never be able to do it, and I think that’s why I tried—better to have loved and lost; better to have tried and failed?

Same thing.

Writers write books. I wasn't a writer; I was Everyman; a father and a son, a citizen and an outlaw, a saint and a sinner. But I decided to see if I could do something more, something different, and that was select eighty-five-thousand words from Merriam-Webster and order their placement on the page so that they constituted something that would pass for a story; something with a beginning, a middle, and an end; something with a plot and a direction, a good guy and a bad guy, a place for it to happen, and for someone to win, and someone to lose. That’s it. Nothing more. I didn't care to enter any contests or be nominated for any awards … no Edgar, no Allen, no Poe. All I cared about; all I required to achieve success, was to do only that.

It took three years, and it was terrible, and the success I had just achieved shifted its shape, and became Failure.

The Siren beckoned. I had to try again.

A friend of mine said to me upon hearing the news, “Even if you publish just one novel in your lifetime, you’ll have done something few have. It’s something special.”

On Saturday August 3^rd, I celebrated having my novel published. The two-hour celebration was over in the blink of an eye. Such is Success. I barely remember it. What I do remember is courting Failure for all those years as it led me to Success. As I failed, I learned, I grew, I improved. I mean, how else could I write all this flowery shit? I had a two-thousand word vocabulary when I graduated high school, most of them no more than three letters, and the rest of them profane.

I usually place the photos I use in my blog at the beginning, but not this time. I’m placing them at the end in an effort to symbolize a beginning; a beginning of a new career … for all involved.

Here’s to mistakes.

Here’s to failures.

And here’s to wherever we are, one year from now.

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Crime-Cakes by Delaney

And a HUGE shout out to Mary, Maggie's partner in crime,
for all the help she gave Maggie putting this together.
You two gals should start a Party Planning business.
(Since she didn't get me a photo of her,
I had to go all the way back to Halloween last.
Photogenic, isnt she?)



And the winner of the contest is...

Granddaughter 

Sandra with DB and Michelle of Two Rivers

Daughter Delaney greeted the masses,
handled the transactions,
and kept Chaos at bay.



The Intrigue Group



Someone Far More Important

Last Saturday afternoon I launched my very first novel, Chain of Evidence; an achievement that I am extremely proud of, and one I would normally write about here. But I will wait several days to discuss it, and I beg the indulgence of those who attended, as it will be a little while before I can send out the emails expressing my gratitude for their presence and support. Because today, I am in mourning. 

I discovered today that one of my childhood heroes —Artie Donovan of The 1958 World Champion Baltimore Colts—passed away yesterday at age 89, so anything I might write about myself or my activities falls well short in substance and importance, in comparison to that great man.

Art Donovan played Defensive Tackle for the Colts in the 50s and 60s. And he was a character; larger than life itself, and beloved by all. He was a regular guy, and played football before the sport made instant millionaires out of kids today, turning them into prima donnas that donned fancy football uniforms and squeal because someone actually tackled them. He didn’t celebrate sacks or tackles or showboat for his play on the field, dismissing the Hollywood crap that today’s players love to indulge in to draw attention to themselves. He just did his job and played the game the way it was meant to be played; hard-nosed, and without complaint. 

The radio and TV stations were abuzz with stories and Donovan colloquialisms all through my ride into work, and although I never met the man, he was like the uncle that came to your house twice a year and sneaked you a beer when your mother wasn't looking. He had too much of the kind of fun that was frowned upon in those days. That's why I feel like I've known him for years. I would be hard pressed to attempt my own faulty remembrances of so long ago, so instead of that, I have elected to allow anyone and everyone reading this blog to experience Artie for themselves though the magic in the internet.

Rest well, Artie. We will all miss you.

 Tell it like it is, Artie.... Like it is.
And good night.

Shopping for the Book Launch

Since the book launch is Saturday, I decided to up my blog output just a little to chronicle the events leading up to the big day. For example, Maggie said that I should have some new clothes for the launch. I don’t know why. I have plenty of t-shirts, and I thought jeans with holes were the style. Just because I wore the holes in them myself, shouldn’t change that.

But who was I kiddin’….

“You need some new clothes. I’m tired of seeing you in those same ol’ ratty jeans. Besides,” she said, “I’m an author’s wife and I want to look nice, so you’re going shopping with me.”

“Me? You talkin’ to me?”

“Yes I’m talking to you…. I want your opinion.”

“Okay. You look good in everything.”

Now most guys hate to shop. And I’m no exception. I shop when I have to—once or twice a year maybe, not counting Christmas: a couple pairs of jeans, some shirts, underwear … maybe a pair of socks, and I’m set. But then there’s the occasional occasion when there’s no avoiding going shopping ... with a woman. A book launch qualifies.

Visions of traipsing from store to store passed before my eyes; like your life when you think you’re gonna die. Back and forth, from one store to another, then back again. I mean, how many times does one have to visit the same store? I saw myself following her like a dejected child—pouting; standing around while she rummaged through rack after rack trying to find something that:

Fit.
Didn’t make her look fat.
Was pretty.
Didn’t make her look fat.
Was appropriate.
Didn’t make her look fat.

So she drags me to the Mall. There must be a thousand stores in that place. And I fully expected to visit each-and-every-one. She likes Macys. So that’s where I park. Who knew the store she’d actually buy in was on the other side of the planet.

The dressy casual dresses are on the second floor. I didn’t even know that was a category. Thank the Lord there were escalators. We head upstairs and walked a mile or so to the casual dress section. She begins her run and I wait. A day later, she says, “I can’t find anything. Let’s go to Penney’s.”

We walk to the other side of the Mall. She starts another run. I wait. “There’s more dresses downstairs,” she says, so down we go. This time, we have to use the stairway outside the store because it’s closer than the escalator. Well, that’s fine with me. It was downhill.

“There’s nothing here. Let’s go back. I want to look at one I saw upstairs again.” Now, it’s uphill. Two landings. I hate stairs. She decides “we” need to go to another store. We pass Sears.

“Let’s try here.”

“Sears? You need power tools?”

“No, silly. A dress.”

It may as well have been power tools, since there were no dresses that she liked. We make a beeline to Boscov’s. Nothing. Back to Penney’s. We come to a set of stairs that look awfully familiar. Up we go.

“I can’t make up my mind. Help me.” She disappears and comes back wearing the first of seventeen dresses she’s picked out.

 “I like that one. Let’s go home.”

Ooooh-noooo! I have to see each one. Between changes, I occupied myself by taking short trips across the tile floor, making sure my sneakers landed squarely on the tile without touching a grout joint. Tiring of that, I traveled in tiny figure eights. Its funny how, if you look at them sideways, they look like the symbol for Infinity, meaning without end; just like this trip.  

At one point, a salesman walked by.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The answer came as a sigh preceded by a breath. “Noooo … shopping with a woman.”

“Ah!” he said. “Well, we have plenty of comfy chairs,” and then he continued on, snickering under his breath.

Eventually, she settles on a dress she likes.

Finally. "You look great. Let's go home."

“I need accessories.”

“Accessories? What? … like an A/C adaptor?”

So with dress in hand, we traipse over to the shoe department.

“I’m not paying $80 for a pair of shoes,” she says. “We can find them cheaper someplace else.”

Great! Now she’s frugal.

After visiting a store that had the gall to refer to itself as “Payless,” there were four other shoe stores to visit. None had anything that matched the dress. Back to Penney’s. I forked out the eighty bucks hoping to get home before the turn of the century.

“Okay, just one more thing.”

Another “thing?” How many “things” do women need? This is a one-day affair, not a camping trip.

Back to Payless. Handbags.

“Why didn’t you just get the handbag when we were here the first time?”

“We didn’t have the shoes. The handbag has to match the shoes.”

“Don’t the dress match the shoes?

“Yes.”

“So? …”

“So the handbag has to match the shoes.”

“????”

“Weren’t you just here?” the saleswoman said.

“Yeah, in another lifetime.”

Nothing there. Back to Penney’s. I think I’m gonna buy stock.

“The weatherman said it was going to be cool Saturday,” she murmured.

“Yeah. So?”

“I might get chilly. Help me find a bolero.”

“Okay…. That’s some kind o’ hat, right?”

I never heard so many women snickering at one time.

Well, I have to admit. When we did finally get home, she put everything on and looked stunning. I decided it was worth the trip and then some.

“You know, honey” I said. “You’ll be the prettiest woman there.”

By the way, I know I have a flare for exaggeration, but honestly, most of this actually happened. I just embellished a little.


DB

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A Matter of Perception

If, per chance, you have the opportunity and the wherewithal to engage mathematicians, or theoretical physicists, or most any science fiction writer that delves in temporal mechanics, and you ask them about the characteristics of Time, I believe they will tell you that Time, when boiled down to its simplest form, is essentially a variable; that it travels linearly through space at various rates depending on where you are, depending on who you are.

Case in point:

Any little kid will tell you that Time slows down the closer they get to summer vacation, or their birthday, or Christmas, but once there, Time speeds up, and it’s over too soon.

Ask the parents of those kids the same question, of the same events, and they’ll say the exact opposite.

So it is with the launch of Chain of Evidence. It seemed that just the other day I had weeks and weeks before the event. Now there is less than one. Where did all that time go? It seems that Time began to accelerate as the appointed date grew closer.

There was so much to do, so much preparation, and it’s nearly all complete thanks to Maggie—my wife and biggest fan. Without her help, I’d be floundering like a schooner on a windless sea.

“Behind every successful man,” as they say.

Thank you, honey.

Of course, Maggie has an ulterior motive.

She wants to see me succeed. She thinks me a great writer, and who am I to contradict her? But I am of a different opinion. I like to think that I spin a good yarn. Without a good story to tell, the writing is just the writing. It can be good or bad. It’s the story that counts.

Another case in point:

Fifty Shades of Grey – A story that hit at just the right time. Apparently, no one cared about the writing.

Now I have a story that I want to tell. It’s a good story, and it will appeal to anyone who enjoys a good mystery, or thriller, or forensics whodunit, or even a slap-in-the-face twist, because Chain of Evidence employs all those aspects. It also speaks to our aging populace—The Baby Boomers. The story addresses current times where the economy, the political climate, and one’s physical abilities are changing, diminishing, and these changes force the Protagonist, Moby Truax, to deal with them all. This story comes at the right time as well.

Now I begin the groveling.

A goodly number of folks from all parts of the world read this blog, and that humbles me in ways for which I can find no words—not such a good thing for a writer to admit, so let me just say this:

Thank You.

I am honored that folks take time from their busy lives to read these words.

Now that the book is out, I’ll ask those folks who enjoy reading this blog, to read the book and discover what it is that inspires these writings, and after they read it, write a short review or a blurb and post it here, or on Customer Reviews on Amazon, or even on Goodreads. Then I’ll ask them to ask their friends to do the same. I promise … it will do for you what a work of fiction is supposed to do.

I have a great deal of confidence that readers of Chain of Evidence will enjoy the hell out of it, and I’m confident they won’t see the twist coming until it hits them like an open hand on the forehead. Then, I hope, they’ll anticipate my next book, which I should complete by year’s end, thus starting he process all over again.

This is what it’s all about.

The story telling is what I want to do, but the marketing is what I have to do, if I’m to keep writing.

Please … let me know how you like the novel.

I’ll be waiting.

DB

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Pasadena: Former youth coach pens his first novel - : Pasadena

It's always fun to get yourself in the paper.
Especially if you never have before.


Pasadena: Former youth coach pens his first novel - : Pasadena

A Series of Firsts

There's an old saying that goes, There is a first time for everything: The first time you ride a two-wheeler, the first time you make the baseball team, the first time you kiss a girl. But when you’re a writer, you discover there is a whole new set of Firsts waiting for you.

Your first novel

Your first submission

Your first rejection

Your first contract

… Your first bit of recognition

I’ve enjoyed a little notoriety on occasion; “Oh, you’re Danielle’s dad,” or “You’re Maggie’s husband.” That sort of thing. But this past Monday was the first time I could remember where folks have come looking for me, and didn’t want to beat the crap out of me for something I might of … probably did.

I arrived at work around my usual start time of fifteen-minutes late, and after tending to the business delagated by my morning coffee, I returned to my office to find one of the folks I work with, smiling to beat the band, waiting outside my office … for me. In her hand, she held a copy of Chain of Evidence. Amazon had shipped early.

“This arrived Saturday,” she announced. “Would you sign it for me?”

Sign it? The book? Now? But I’m not ready. I ... I have a meeting. My car has a flat. I have to phone my dentist. I think I hear my mother calling.

Yep. It was my first book signing. Random thoughts overwhelmed my pea brain.

I don’t know what to say.

What should I write?

It had to be profound!

But I’m not profound.

Maybe just scribble something illegible ... like a doctor.

We stepped into my office and sat down and she handed me her copy of my book. That in itself was a first. Another person owned a copy of a book that I wrote, and actually paid for it with cash money, but what unnerved me was the way she looked at me; as if something great was about to happen.

My stomach flipped over and I felt nauseous. The room closed in and the air became thick and warm. I began to perspire. I fumbled around for the pen in my shirt and realized my hand was shaking. I’d never felt like that before.

Another first.

I didn’t need her name. I already knew her. But I asked her what she wanted me to write in the book, because I sure as hell didn’t know.

“Just write what you always write,” she suggested.

And that’s the rub. I never wrote anything in a book before; other than my name, and that was only to prove ownership in a court of law when I went to college. Those college girls, they'll….

Never mind.

Her book was my first signing, and that’s when it dawned on me.
I opened to the first page and wrote:

Terry,

This is my first.

Hope you enjoy it.

DBC

Of course, it didn’t look nearly that good. My hand was still shaking and I signed it starting with the “B.” Glad I left some space on both sides of it for the other two initials.

So that was my first experience signing a novel, and I suppose I better get it down before the launch in two weeks. There will be many people there, and not all of them family and friends. There will be folks in attendance that have decided I am worthy of their time and have indicated they would like to come celebrate this achievement with me, and while I resist using the word “Fans,” I want everyone to know how much I appreciate their interest in my work.

Hopefully, you’ll be interested in the next one too.

Thank you, all.

DB

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Best Selling Author Trice Hickman Drops by to Chat

A year or so ago I attended a conference-call seminar on self-publishing. The rejections I recieved from agents had convinced me that my book would never be published if I didn't change my tactics. So when I ran across the seminar, I jumped at it. Trice Hickman was the host, and an impresive host at that. Trice is the author of four best sellers, and she did it without using a traditional publisher. So if you're frustrated at the lack of attenntion your novel is stirring up, read on ... see how she did it.

My Publishing Journey: Navigating the Ups and Downs

I will never forget the day I started writing my first novel. I’d been plagued by writer’s block for years, but one sunny Wednesday morning in March 2004, I had a breakthrough! I sat at my computer and watched in amazement as words flowed like sweet water from my fingertips to the keyboard, filling up page after page with thoughts, emotions, and characters that had been living inside my head. I was so excited! I wrote every single day, and four months later my debut novel, Unexpected Interruptions, was complete! The feeling of accomplishment was euphoric! But very quickly the next step was in front of me—how to get my work published?

I had always thought that writing a book was the hard part…little did I know that the hardest part was yet to come—publishing it, and harder still, selling it.

I began researching how to get my book published. I studied the pros and cons of traditional publishing versus self-publishing, and came to the conclusion that the traditional route was the way for me. So again, I did my research. I gathered the names of every literary agent, editor, and publisher whom I thought might be interested in my work, and I reached out to them. I waited with excitement for the offers to start pouring in. Well, letters started pouring in, but to my dismay, they weren’t offers to publish my manuscript. They were rejection letters.

Let me tell you, rejection really hurts!

“Did they really read my story?” I had wondered. “If they did, how could they have possibly turned me down?” That was the question I asked myself over and over, month after month as new rejection letters flooded into both my mailbox and inbox. Some were standard form letters with a generic let down, but some were personalized, stating hurtful words that temporarily halted my dream.

There’s a saying, “You haven’t loved until you’ve had your heart broken.” Well, you’re not a writer until you get your first rejection letter (or your first bad review, but that’s a discussion for another time). I basked in the grayness of a short-lived pity party, then I bounced back into action because I knew I had a few things on my side that beat rejection every time: belief, determination, perseverance, and faith!

I had spent long days and sleepless nights creating my characters and crafting their story. I believed in them. And I believed that if I could just get my book published, despite what had been said, someone would buy it. And if someone bought it they would read it and like it. And if they liked it they’d tell a friend, and that friend would tell another friend, and voila! I’d have a winner on my hands. I was determined to see my book in print, so I realigned my mission and set my sights on self-publishing.

Again, I did my research. I scoured the Internet for information. I purchased books to learn all I could about best practices and new industry trends. I attended workshops, seminars, book festivals, and literary conferences. I reached out to other authors and industry professionals. And most importantly, I developed a plan for publishing my book, complete with time sensitive tasks that I diligently followed. I set aside money from my paycheck every month and assembled a team of professionals who could help me execute my publishing plan. Finally, after nearly three years of preparation, I resigned from my job and started my own publishing company, Platinum Books, and released Unexpected Interruptions!

Just as I’ll never forget the day I started writing my first book, I’ll never forget that chilly Tuesday afternoon in October 2007, when my books arrived at my doorstep, hot from the printer. Holding the finished product in my hand was euphoric! But again, the next step was staring me in the face—how would I sell the book?

I had done a modest print run of 2,500 copies, and through marketing and pre-promotion efforts I managed to pre-sell 1,000 books before the novel was released (NOTE: this was before e-books really took off). Next, my goal was to sell the other 1,500 books and go from there. I contacted as many people as I could who had pre-ordered directly through my website and asked for their feedback. If they enjoyed the book, I asked them to please spread the word for me. Now this is where perseverance and having a plan paid off. I hit the road on a book tour that I had organized months in advance. My corporate sponsor, GODIVA Chocolatier (the main character in my book loved GODIVA, so I approached them about sponsoring a few of my signings), provided treats at some of my events that enticed readers to come out and join me. In less than thirty days I had sold all my books and was placing an order for another print run.

Unexpected Interruptions, went on to garner praise from readers and literary reviewers across the country. It also won two literary awards and topped several bookstore bestseller lists.

Three years and two additional books later, I was approached by Kensington Publishing Corp. (Dafina Books) to purchase the publishing rights for all three of my originally self-published titles. Kensington will re-release each of my books, providing broader distribution that will allow me to reach a much larger readership. My debut novel, Unexpected Interruptions, was re-released March 29, 2011, and received a starred review from Publishers Weekly! I was so excited, and the amazing thing was that Kensington did not change my story; even the cover art remained the same. Yes, the same book that everyone had turned down now received a nod from an industry giant. The faith I had in my work led me down a bumpy road that turned into a wonderful journey; one in which I wouldn’t change a thing!

Tips for Aspiring Writers

1. Read—Reading is critical to the writing process. It broadens the mind and expands your creativity. I don’t know any good writers who aren’t avid readers.

2. Study the craft—Writing is an art form. Study it. Practice it. Take classes.

3. Write every day—There are times when this won’t be possible, but if you endeavor to write something every day (it could be a sentence, a paragraph, or a couple of pages) you will complete your book before you know it. You will also become a better writer because you will improve with practice.

4. Tell a good story—Develop your characters and craft your storyline so that readers will be interested in what you have to say. Make sure that your beginning, middle, and end flow into one seamless, page-turning tale!

Publishing Tips:

Whether you decide to self-publish or go the traditional route, here are some helpful tips.

1. Research, research, research. I can’t stress how important it is to arm yourself with as much information as possible. Don’t rely on other authors to hold your hand through the process or tell you what to do to get your book published. Every writer’s journey is different, so chart a path that works for you.
2. Network, network, network. Attend book conferences and literary events. These venues are great opportunities to meet readers, authors, and industry professionals who can prove to be valuable assets as you build your career.
3. Develop a plan and execute it. Be sure to include a realistic time line and budget to support a successful book campaign (again, do this whether you are traditionally or self-published).
4.  Know your target audience. If you think your book is for everyone, you’re wrong! Dead wrong! Define your primary audience, i.e.; age, profession, gender, socio-economic demographic, interests, etc.
5. Once you have defined your target audience, determine their book buying habits and make sure your book is available to them in the format they desire. Do your readers purchase books at book festivals, conferences, or other literary events? Do they buy in stores, on-line, or through e-reading devices?

To learn more about Trice and her books, please visit her website at www.tricehickman.com. If you’re interested in taking your first step toward becoming a published author, please contact Trice for a one-on-one coaching session by clicking on the Writer’s Corner page on her site.

You can also connect with Trice at:

www.facebook.com/tricehickman

www.twitter.com/tricehickman

www.linkedin.com/tricehickman

Pretty cool, huh? So drop by Trice's web site and say hi.

DB