Interview with B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree Laurie Boris

laurieboris:

Talking about Don’t Tell Anyone, sibling rivalry, Jewish mothers, and indieBRAG with Stephanie Hopkins at her blog, Layered Pages. Hope you’ll visit!

Originally posted on Layered Pages:

AuthorLaurieBoris_small

Laurie Boris is a freelance writer, editor, proofreader, and former graphic designer. She has been writing fiction for over twenty-five years and is the award-winning author of five novels: The Joke’s on Me, Drawing Breath, Don’t Tell Anyone, Sliding Past Vertical, and Playing Charlie Cool. When not hanging out with the universe of imaginary people in her head, she enjoys baseball, cooking, reading, and helping aspiring novelists as a contributing writer and editor for IndiesUnlimited.com. She lives in New York’s lovely Hudson Valley.

Hello, Laurie! Thank you for chatting with me today about your B.R.A.G. Medallion book, Don’t Tell Anyone. First tell me about how you discovered indieBRAG and what has your experience been like with self-publishing.

Hi, Stephanie! I’m grateful to be aboard today and so excited that Don’t Tell Anyone is an indieBRAG honoree. I discovered indieBRAG when my friend and fellow Indies Unlimited contributor Martin…

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Update on The Body Market: Post-Launch

laurieboris:

For independent authors, launching a new book is hardly a precise science. Especially when things go a little sideways. Here’s DV Berkom’s blog about what happened when she released The Body Market. (Which is a kick-ass thriller, by the way, and the third in the Leine Basso series.) The launch story does end well, however.

Originally posted on DV Berkom Books:

I thought since I hadn’t posted in a while (I’ve been concentrating on researching and writing the next Leine Basso book) I’d give an update on how things are going after the launch of The Body Market. The book’s been selling well and a couple of authors have contacted me privately to ask what I did differently, and whether I think those strategies worked. Since I love to analyze (not in any real scientific way, mind you) I sorted through all the things I did differently and those I didn’t and came to the same conclusion:

I have no effing idea which strategy worked the best.

Now, before you give me a ration of crap in the comments, let me clarify: if someone tells you that yes, this one thing they did caused Amazon’s bots to get behind their book, I’d have to call bullshit. Only Amazon knows how…

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2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON’T IDENTIFY AS ‘WRITERS’ – all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom! And yes, I’m not the venerable JD Mader, but he has been airlifted to an undisclosed location, and until he can get out of his duct tape and shackles (or until we collect enough to post bail), he has graciously allowed me to play host. Just kidding. I blackmailed him into allowing me to do this.

Write whatever you want in the comments section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds … no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send ‘em here to read your ‘two’ and encourage them to play. 

So, as is tradition – or at least in Mader-land, here’s my first:

You wonder what his country is like, now that the king has died. If you had gone to live with him and be his love, as he asked in a fevered, Aramis-flavored clench on the floor of a disco a thousand years ago, you wonder if you would now be paying homage by his side, clustered with the other shrouded women while the men decided the fate of the land. Or if long ago you would have been arrested for doing the things that came naturally to you: driving a car, baring your arms, stepping outside in your favorite tiny nylon running shorts for a five-mile jog. “No, no, you can’t do that at my father’s house,” he said one day, as the question hanging between us squeezed a little tighter. In the end it was not the potential limitations of your freedoms that made you turn him down; you were just too young and American to believe he was actually serious.

Thanks for stopping by! Let the writing commence!

#2minutesgo

 

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Once a Pantser…

Typewriter - Once upon a timeEver since it dawned on me some thirty years ago that the short story I was writing had the potential to be a novel, I’ve been an enthusiastic and dedicated pantser. I’d follow some interesting characters around, taking notes, until something resembling a narrative arc bubbled up. I’d follow that thread until the story was told and then on subsequent drafts, shape it together into a plot, like a lump of clay on a potter’s wheel. (And no, I did not just think about Patrick Swayze in Ghost. Okay, I did.) Continue reading

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Thump

Cardinal_2I am a dreamer at heart. There. I’ve admitted it. I’ve tried to deny this for years, doing the practical things humans do, fretting about getting good grades and finding the right mate and how to keep a roof over my head and food on my table, marching in painfully uncomfortable lockstep with the other grownups. I put that uniform on when I need to—food and shelter are not to be sneezed at—but the wool itches and the vest constricts my breathing and let’s not talk about how the crotch rides up on those ridiculous trousers.

Right about the time I began to worry whether I’d let the uniform become a permanent part of my epithelial cells, sort of like a Simpsons character, this weird little cardinal started attacking my back deck.

Male Northern cardinals do this sort of thing, I’ve heard. They are territorial, especially during brooding season, and when they see their own reflections in shiny things like windows and car mirrors, they think it’s a rival bird and attack. Over and over and over again.

We named him Napoleon.

I did the things people suggested to make him not see his reflection. Decals on the windows, dangling distracting strips of things from the glass…everything short of covering the sliders with white sheets, which the spouse nixed. I’d rather have a thumping cardinal than a husband grumbly that the lack of natural light coming into the house might kill his cacti. And his mood.

Eight months later, well past normal brooding season, he’s still flinging his winter-fluffed body into my windows. But in the beginning, my little dreaming heart wanted to tell stories and make meaning out of it.

My first flight into the nature of his arrival was that he had come to teach me something. About perseverance, perhaps. Or how to survive getting hit on the head over and over and over again, a common way of life for freelancers and indie authors.

Thump.

Next I entertained the possibility that the meaning was a little more subtle and archetypical. He represented something. A message from a friend, sent on a wing and a prayer, perhaps. (I apologize for that. No, I don’t.)

Thump. Thump.

Then I attempted communing with him. While waiting for my coffee to brew in the mornings, I’d inch up to the window, watching the proud set of his banged-up beak, the determination in his shining black eyes. He liked the sound of my voice, or at least did not fly away from it. At this point, Husband considered that I might need professional help, or a hobby, but I ignored him. Instead, I went deeper and imagined his story. I let him tell it from his point of view. In the first, he had come to save me from my itchy, semi-permanent uniform, a sort of cage I’d locked myself into and did not realize I could leave. Next, and I admit I might have been a little loopy that day, maybe from the repeated percussion of a determined cardinal banging up my house, he’d been sent by a Disney princess to be one of those magical cleaning birds but was continually frustrated that he couldn’t get inside the window.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I latched wholeheartedly onto the next theory, relayed to me by several Facebook friends. Some say that an appearance of a cardinal means that you are getting a message from a loved one who has died.

Then I was all about what the message might be. From my mother-in-law, watching over us? Telling me to clean the house and fretting that my husband is too thin? A friend who likes that we’ve hung one of his paintings in the hall and hopes we’re happy? Someone else? Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate the love from beyond, but those windows are going to need some serious power washing come spring.

I know that my time with Napoleon on this plane is limited; I know that some think I’m making too big a deal of what might be a simple avian instinct gone awry. But his presence gives my little dreaming heart something to thump about. And now, instead of rattling my imagination for meaning, I spend a little time with him, send out a thought-beam of kindness and compassion, and say, “thank you.”

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Hot Off The Press

laurieboris:

Hot off the Press from Carol Wyer’s blog… more raves for DV Berkom’s latest Leine Basso thriller, The Body Market.

Originally posted on Facing 50 with humour.:

When you find a good author whose books you thoroughly enjoy, you can’t wait for their latest release.  I have a passion for thrillers but too often I read what I expect to be a top thriller only to be disappointed by characters, or the ending. Thrillers can disappoint big time.

Some time ago came across D.V. Berkom. In fact, I have mentioned her before on this blog. Now this is an author who knows how to write!

Her latest book, The Body Market was released on the 8th January 2015 and my goodness what an exceptionally good book it is too.

It is another in the Leine Basso series. Leine is a heck of a heroine—no-nonsense, gutsy, savvy and intelligent. Unlike some female lead characters, this one is credible and is one that you, as a reader like—hugely.

I will not reveal the plot because that is what…

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Flashy New Year

ghostwriterThe intrepid souls gather from across the globe to write for a couple minutes and toss their innards on the virtual walls…or just play around for a while. Because it’s fun, right? And fun is good. Until someone loses an eye. If you’d like to read some great spontaneous flash, check out JD Mader’s website and maybe next Friday you’ll come by and help us break the blog. Here are a few of my pieces from this week. As always, lightly edited for your protection. Continue reading

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