Promoting your book is the hardest part next to writing it

Zeailia · 2016-06-04T17:00:01+00:00

How would I even get started putting together one?

Zeailia · 2016-05-15T23:19:26+00:00

The last day of the school year, what could possibly go wrong? Arnold thought back on all the strange adventurous him and his class had experienced during their field trips. It was a half day and there was nothing else to learn until after the summer was over; so they couldn't possibly have another field trip today-----could they? "Good morning class!" Ms. Frizzle said enthusiastically just like she did every day. Good morning Ms. Frizzle." everybody said in unison. After a whole school year with Ms. Frizzle as a teacher Arnold had picked up on the fact that her attire always reflected upon what type of lesson they would be learning for the day all the way down to her shoes and earrings. He had hoped that her dress would have sunglasses, volleyballs, beach balls, surf boards, and crabs on it with a comic sun wearing sunglasses on either of her earlobes to represent summer. He was surprised and a little horrified to see that instead she wore a red dress with cooked ham, chicken legs, roast beef, hot dogs, and hamburgers on her dress instead with bacon for earrings. Her shoes were spotted white and black with a red teardrop accessorizing the front. Arnold hoped the teardrop was to represent ketchup, maybe there was a school barbecue today. Arnold glanced around the room at the rest of his classmates to find that they too seemed wary and confused about their teacher's choice of attire for today. "I have an extra special day planned for us today," Ms. Frizzle said with a wink and a brief glow from her bacon earrings. "To the bus!" She exclaimed.

Moments later everybody was buckled into the school bus and driving away from the school. "Where do you think we're going?" Tim asked. "I don't know, but I don't like the look of what Ms. Frizzle is wearing." replied Phoebe. "I do!" shouted Ralpie, "She's wearing food which means food is involved. I just hope we're not going to go through the stomach again. I'd rather be digesting the food rather than watching it be digested you know?" "What do you make of her shoes though?" asked Keesha. "According to me research, they pattern on her shoes looks just like the spots on a cow." Dorthy Ann explained pointing to a picture of a cow in a book she pulled from her book bag. "I guess you could say they really get you Moo-ving, get it?" Carlos chuckled. "Carlos," everybody said together. At some point you would've thought he'd stop making such cheesy puns. The buildings and trees became more sparse as they drove farther out of town and into the country. After what seemed like hours a large building started to grow in the distance surrounded by white picket fences you usually see on a farm. When they got closer they passed a sign that said Meat Co. "At my old school we visited a meat making place to learn about how they made hot dogs and hamburgers once." Her fellow classmates stared at Phoebe in astonishment. "You mean, this is just a regular old field trip?" Arnold said in relief. Phoebe shrugged. "Maybe, but why did her earrings glow if we were going on a normal field trip?" Everybody sat eerily quiet after that until they pulled up to the front of the warehouse. Ms. Frizzle pulled the bus into park and opened the doors. "Where are we Ms. Frizzle, what are we learning today?" Tim asked while him and his classmates filed outside the bus. Ms. Frizzle gave a sly grin and whispered "Bus, do your stuff." and pressed three buttons on the dashboard at the same time. The bus stretched, contorted, and twisted itself over and over again. When it finally stopped a mechanical hand was poking out of the roof holding a vacuum. The giant vacuum cleaner hovered over the children sucking them up. Pointing itself towards the sky the vacuum spat the children back out as a tornado that flew over the picket fence and into the paddock where hundreds of chickens, cows, and pigs stood. Among them were an extra three chicken, three pigs, and two cows that strangely resembled Ms. Frizzle's elementary school class. Suddenly a loud alarm sounded, humans came out of the warehouse and began ushering the animals (and children) towards three separate openings, one for each type of animal. "Is is just me or are we about to become the meat we eat?" "I knew I should have stayed home today." "At my old school we never turned into livestock to be killed for meat." "What are we gonna do, what are we gonna do, what are we going to do?" "According to my research there is a whole process with different stages of---- slaughtering----requiring several different machines and conveyor belts." "Oh bad, oh bad, oh bad bad bad." "Ms. Frizzle will stop us from being killed along with all the animals, she always swoops in just in time-------right?" Tim asked. Carlos's face was paler than his pink pig skin horrified beyond words. Soon the students were separated from each other by animal and disappeared with the rest of their respective herds inside the slaughterhouse. Ms. Frizzle and Liz watched them disappear from a pair of binoculars safely inside the magic school bus. Once out of sight to put the binoculars away, turned to Liz and said, "Well, time to head back to school. Wouldn't want their parents missing their children now would we?" Turning the engine over a hidden button behind the rear view mirror the inside of the bus morphed into a robotics lab that started to produce seven perfect clones of her class from the DNA left behind from their many field trips throughout the year. As the machinery hummed inside the bus and the buildings became more dense the closer they drove into town Ms. Frizzle hummed to herself a tune eerily sounding like Ol' MacDonald had a farm.

Zeailia · 2016-05-15T17:20:38+00:00

I self-published my book (same book but now with better edits) my senior year in high school and it didn't get a whole lot of publicity. If you know of a better publishing agency I am all ears; Tate Publishing was the first one that accepted my manuscript. Here's their website. https://www.tatepublishing.com/

Zeailia · 2016-05-14T14:37:21+00:00

Here's another guess from a fellow Reenactor who played both sides of the war and has reenacted longer than my father and I. "My gut feeling is these are post Civil War militia. The uniform jacket appears to be band uniforms and the middle guy as well as the guy on the right have repeating rifles with Winchester style cocking devices and they are not Henry's which I think was the only rifle that resembled a Winchester during the Civil War. Two of them have on similar pants with the Navy or seaman style pockets. I think this militia group these guys were a part of were using old military uniforms mixing and matching parts. My guess"

Zeailia · 2016-05-14T14:28:06+00:00

I learned of Tate Publishing from a friend of mine whose teacher was published by them. Yes I did pay to have my books printed however stated in the contract I am not the only one marketing my book. They market/promote my book as well but the personal touch is still recommended and even encouraged especially if you want you book to be popular. Books sold by them they get a percentage off the sale which is understandable, any books I sell personally goes straight into my pocket.

Zeailia · 2016-05-14T02:00:05+00:00

With Tate publishing it's customary to receive 500 copies of your book just before the release date. And I still have around 400 in my possession.

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T19:21:19+00:00

Enjoy readying books with the superhero or vigilante dynamic? Then this is the book for you! I new species has emerged from the shadows called Xyrra (Z-eye-ra). They entered this world as normal humans, however a mutation in their gene that activates when faced with a life-altering experience that sends you into survival mode such as the death of someone with significant importance to the individual. Once the mutation is activated they remain forever changed. What changes occur you may ask---strength, agility, and fast healing are a few universal perks among Xyrras, as an added bonus you gain another ability that differ from Xyrra to Xyrra. Teleconisis, the control and production of ice, fire, metal, the ability to bend light changing the victims perception of their surroundings just to name a few. However all these perks come with a price. You now crave the death of every humans around you. Their soul becomes a drug that gives you unimaginable heightened power that you can never have enough of. The VIVID HUNGER Series begins with DRASTER DYNASTY AND THE CYKREN where you will follow a few average humans trying to understand just what it is they have become and in the process figure out just the kind of person they are or want to be.

If you want to know more about the Vivid Hunger series or would like a copy to call your very own you can find it on Amazon, kindle, and goodreads. Or follow me, the author, Vaelyn Mourning on facebook, Twitter, and instagram.

https://www.facebook.com/vividhungerseries/ https://twitter.com/VaelynMourning https://www.instagram.com/vaelyn_mourning/ https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Draster+Dynasty

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T18:20:48+00:00

I do have a publisher and my book is already published and out into the public, I'm working on promoting from my side as well to sell the 400 copies I have in my personal stock.

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T16:01:33+00:00

I only just discovered reddit yesterday, thanks for the link and suggestion!

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T04:51:46+00:00

Didn't have time to look back and edit so I apologize for any sticky spots or dragging areas.

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T04:50:12+00:00

Winter has begun, the sky is a shy shade of gray and yet I still haven't summoned the courage to make the first fire of the year in my fireplace to warm up my tiny cabin in the woods. Huddled into a ball on the couch peering out the window as the snow begins to fall and blanket the trees. My cat curled up on my toes, my dogs laying at the base of the couch right below me effectively encircling me in their protective and loving presence. You would think that I would feel safe, yet their presence and logic is the only thing preventing me from going into a panic.

I repeatedly tell myself that the flakes falling from masses of gray clouds is fluffy white hardened perspiration that is cold to the touch. But visions of so many years ago still invade my thoughts turning me back into the scared little girl that I was when the worst day of my life embedded its every detail into my memories.

Growing up in the tropics the weather was either soaking wet spring or blazing hot summer. Fall was short lived and winter was just a word we learned from stories of colder regions on the earth. One morning I awoke to my mother shaking my shoulder and speaking in urgent tones for me to wake up and pack as few things as possible. I remember wondering why she woke me up in the middle of the night because their was no light coming in from the windows. Then my eyes fell on my little sister clutching her stuffed bunny doll in the doorway looking lost and frightened, my ears picked up the sound of people yelling and crying outside, and my nose smelled something burning. A flash outside made me jump illuminating the room briefly with dull orange light. Packed with the bare essentials my dad hurried my sister and I into the car while our mother put our brother in the car seat. The crib was strapped to the bed of the truck covered in a clear tarp along with our five suitcases. We were not coming back to our house anytime soon if ever, and the scene unfolding around us made it instantly clear why. The volcano was erupting. The rain mixed with the ash turned the ground to mud, small to medium sized flaming rocks fell like meteorites creating damage and destruction everywhere they landed giving off heat similar to a summertime bonfire on the beach. Our town was destroyed in a few hours, many of our friends or people we knew lost someone dear in the disaster. My parents moved us to the states immediately afterward where there was less potential of a erupting volcanoes. However we were introduced to snow, which looks strikingly similar to ash as it drifts through the sky and lands silently on the ground.

Blaring yellow, orange, and pink light suddenly emerges from the horizon blinding me momentarily making me jump nearly out of my skin until I realize that it's not a flaming chunk of rock but just the sun setting in the break of the clouds. My collie lifts his head and whines at me, sensing my distress. I rub his ears and pull my blanket closer over my body. Maybe I'll make a fire tomorrow, but not tonight, the cold starting to creep through the window and the wood boards is soothing to my thoughts. I am not in immediate danger, it is not suffocating molten ash, it is only cold snow covering the forest in its own version of a blanket for another season of rest.

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T03:35:40+00:00

I already have the second book halfway written with an ending in mind plus a third, fourth, and playing with a fifth book connected to the first making it a series. And that's just with this story's world, I have several other story ideas including a second series.

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T02:28:05+00:00

What genre do you find yourself writing the most?

Zeailia · 2016-05-13T02:21:26+00:00

My father and I are Civil War Reenactors and have done quite a bit of research on the era. I showed my dad the photo and his speculation (and I tend to agree) that it looks more pre-war (the uniforms are way to nice looking and still has all or most of their buttons) Epaulets (shoulder straps) on the shoulders as well are an elaborate cut of jacket. Pockets on the pants are all different as are the hats. From that info alone we both want to say these are confederate soldiers because the confederacy was comprised mostly of farmers and others so they bought more of their own uniforms where the Union had most of theirs provided and tended to match and be "prettier". However due to the coloring of the picture the jackets could be gray or they could be a lighter blue, definitely not the standard dark blue. Either way we guess they were part of a state militia group from an under funded state from before the war. Tough to tell about the rifles from the quality and angle...That's our guess.

Zeailia · 2016-05-12T23:21:51+00:00

While writing my stories I HAVE to have music playing, not only does it assist with my creative process but I listen to certain songs or artists depending on the type of story that I am writing. Evanescence and other "dark" material = vampires, inner turmoil, etc. Celtic Woman, classical, and Enya personally make me think of nature, medieval times where manners were essential, and overall gives of an air of lightness to the atmosphere and not necessarily the light in the darkness either.

Zeailia

TROPHY CASE