The great Groupon debate

I've got to tell you I had the strangest morning yesterday. I blame Groupon.

About 500 years ago, there was this daily offer in my inbox for house cleaning. It was a great deal. And my fantasy - to have someone else clean up after my crazy family for once. But could I really invite strangers in to see the kind of dust we kick up? I'd click on the Groupon. Then I'd close it. Then I'd click on it. This went on all day.

Finally, I got up my nerve and I bought that fricking thing at about 11:00 p.m., right before the offer expired. So then I had this Groupon, but it seemed so indulgent. And it was kind of outside my comfort zone. And shouldn't I be doing my own cleaning anyway? So I buried it in my organizer to use, "when I really need it."

God, I'm such a dork.

Anyway, when we were on vacation last week, I started thinking of that Erma Bombeck essay that she wrote late in life about how she wished she would have relaxed more, and not put off so much and how she wishes she would have burned the candles that were too good to light but instead got put away in the closet to gather dust. That was my coupon. Oh I'd put it away, but I hadn't forgotten about it.

So I pulled out my little Groupon and scheduled the cleaners.

I wish I'd have been suave from that moment on, but baby steps, right? I cleaned the house last night, just to be ready for the maid service. We don't want them to see a crummy stove, right? Or dust on the window sills? Or...?

Gah. They arrived, bright and cheery yesterday morning and I tried to write and I tried to think of other things, but all I could think about was how wild it was to have them here. And that I wanted to see them scrub that front entry way, even though I didn't want them to see me seeing them scrub the front entryway. Finally, I spared all of us and left to run errands.

In the end, the house looks great. Better than I could have made it. And I hope I've grown a little bit. Maybe. Stepped outside the old comfort zone? At least I finally used the Groupon.

It's a beautiful thing...

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye

When technology finally catches up to our expectations.

Shortly after my very first book came out, back in November of 2008, a friend of mine from New York met me for lunch in Baltimore. She’d been one of my first writing friends; she shared my journey to publication and cheered me on for the seven years I’d known her. I was so excited to see her. While we were eating lunch, she asked me when my book was going to come out on Kindle. She had just purchased her Kindle and refused to buy another paperback—even mine. I was crushed—not because she wasn’t going to buy my book until it went on Kindle (heck, I offered to give her a paperback) but because I’d never get the chance to sign a book to her. She nicely refused my offer of a book because living in a studio apartment and being the voracious reader she was, she just didn’t have the room for books. Still, she assured me that she would buy my book as soon as it came out on the Kindle. I said something like, “Yeah, but what am I supposed to do? Sign your Kindle?”

Since then I’ve had people approach me at book signings asking me to sign book marks, mailing labels, and odd scraps of paper all because they were e-book readers. I gladly signed them but still it felt as if something were missing—like the book. Then, a few years ago, a wonderful young woman approached me at a book signing. She held out her Kindle and a sharpie and asked me to sign her Kindle. I was floored. She explained that she had a skin on it, but wanted only her favorite authors to sign it. I was honored, and I have to tell you, when I saw the company my signature was keeping, I was walking on air. But as cool as that was, there was something missing. The reader got a blanket signature, from each of her favorite authors, but not a signature or a personalized inscription for each of her books.

Technology had failed to keep up with my expectations of a personalized e-book signing until a few weeks ago. One day I was on one of my writer’s loops and saw a thread about signing Kindle books. I followed the link and was amazed to find out that finally, someone figured out how I, and all of my e-book reader friends can get our books signed. I found Kindle graph! A website where you can request personalized digital inscriptions for more than 4,0000 books from over 800 authors, and the author list is growing daily. I checked it out, and signed up. Now, every day I get an email telling me how many Kindle graph requests I have. And every morning I sit at my desk, in my pajamas, with my coffee and go to a virtual e-book signing. How cool is that? And the best part is, you don't even have to see me in my jammies!

Playing It Cool

Have you ever been watching someone and they fell down, then hopped up and continued on because they think no one saw? Or if you have cats or have been exposed to cats, have you ever seen them fall down and NOT land on their feet? They almost always sit down and start bathing as if busting their hiney was exactly what they intended and just part of their schedule. Cats do not handle embarassment well.

So last weekend, I'm working in the garage and the garage door for my neighbor across the alley goes up. He backs his car out and turns the wheel hard not ten feet out of the garage and runs straight into his fence. So I'm busy working, but watching out of the corner of my eye thinking "What in God's name was he thinking?" when he puts the car in drive, pulls back into the garage, gets out of the car, closes the garage and goes inside his house.

As if that's what he intended to do all along. I had a really good laugh at his expense. He totally reminded me of my very clumsy, 22-pound Maine coon.

Then there's me - the epitomy of calm under pressure. Last Monday, I was eating leftover steak at my desk at the day job and working on my next novel. I swallowed a bite too big and it got lodged in my throat. So I tried drinking to wash it down, but no go. Then I realized I couldn't breathe. So by this time, I'm making choking sounds, but by the time my co-workers realized what was happening and almost tore my cubicle down, I'd already given myself the Heimlich and was fine.

I think I gave several people a heart attack, and I'm certain more than a couple now think I'm a space alien since I wasn't in the least bit panicked. I tried to explain that panicking just used more air and if I hadn't been successful, I would have knocked on the next cubicle and made the universal choking sign, but I think I just reinforced that whole space alien theory even more.

Of course, my coworkers that I am good friends with and my friends outside of work just nodded when I told the story and laughed. And all of them said the same thing "Well, if it had been anyone else...."

But me, I insist on being unique. :)

Deadly Calm DeLeon

Genre 101

As you probably already know, I'm a big fan of the indie publishing movement. That's not to say I don't read traditionally-published books -- in fact, I read way more trad books than indie books -- or that I don't ever want a traditional contract. But I really like the freedom that authors are experiencing and the ability to control their product and profits.

It's also exciting as a reader, because backlist is coming back, and you're starting to see books that NY wouldn't take a chance on, even if they're really good books.

Of course, with the good also comes the bad. It's not secret that some indie books are, how shall I put this diplomatically? A bit lacking in the editorial department. Many indie authors hire freelance editors (often these are NY editors moonlighting on the side), but some simply finish typing THE END and then put it up without running it through a second (or third, or fourth) set of eyes.

I'm not going to go into the blunders of poor editing, because that has been rehashed countless times before. Today I'm going to vent about something different, but still related to the issue of losing the gatekeepers: not classifying your book properly.

Nearly once a week, I have to explain to writers on Kindleboards.com what exactly constitutes "romance fiction." Seems lots of people want to call their book a romance (because that's a hot-selling genre) simply because their main characters have sex at some point in the book. I (and the other RWA members and romance fans) explain that for a novel to be considered a "romance," it must contain two basic elements: a central love story and an emotionally-satisfying and optimistic ending.

From the RWA website:

A Central Love Story: The main plot centers around two individuals falling in love and struggling to make the relationship work. A writer can include as many subplots as he/she wants as long as the love story is the main focus of the novel.

An Emotionally-Satisfying and Optimistic Ending: In a romance, the lovers who risk and struggle for each other and their relationship are rewarded with emotional justice and unconditional love.

If your book does not have these two elements, it is not a romance novel. Period. It may or may not contain strong romantic elements (for example, my book Codename: Dancer would be categorized as a YA mystery with romantic elements -- the romance is a subplot that will follow the arc of the entire series and will not be resolved until the end of the series, but the mystery is what is primary in each book).



Another genre that some authors seem to have trouble defining is the Legal Thriller. I read a blurb yesterday for a book that the author (a lawyer in his day job) was touting as a legal thriller, but to me, the description just read as a novel where the main character just so happened to be a lawyer. Now, admittedly, he was having some trouble with his blurb, so it's entirely possible he didn't get the full premise across.

But that's a pet peeve of mine. Just because your book may have suspense elements and the main characters are lawyers, that doesn't make it a legal thriller. Don't call something a legal thriller simply because "thrillers" are hot on Kindle.

A legal thriller is a sub-genre of thriller and crime fiction in which the major characters are lawyers and their employees. It may or may not focus on a courtroom battele, but the justice system itself is always a major part of these books. In fact, one could almost argue that the law almost functions as one of the characters. The legal system provides the framework for the legal thriller in the same way that the the system of modern police work does for the police procedural. (You wouldn't call a novel a police procedural simply because the main character is a cop, would you?)

So what about you? Have you seen any books that you feel are improperly classified lately? Or have you read any books you just want to rave about?

What are you reading?

Since I mentioned Codename, I feel like giving away an e-book copy. Just a comment and you'll be entered to win! I'll draw the winner Sunday night, at 6 pm EST.

My Own Personal Best Beauty Buy List

A while back I wrote that I went on a skincare shopping binge. Now that I've been using the products for a little over a month it seems only fair that I tell you what's worth splurging on and what isn't. I have to say some of the products are so awesome I, for the first time in YEARS, will now venture out of my home without makeup and like, you know, go places! So although this isn't a beauty blog I just have to share because I'm kinda becoming a skincare-geek. Besides, you know you wanna know.

Clarosonic Mia:  Totally worth it. It cleans clogged pores in a single bound! It exfoliates your skin and no matter WHAT products you're using they're going to be a lot more effective because they'll penetrate further into your skin. 

Neutrogena Healthy Defense: It does the job; as in it's no better or worse than all the other decent daytime moisturizers out there. It says it contains "superior anti-aging sun protection" otherwise know as...wait for it...basic sunscreen! If you're using Aveeno and you love it stick with that. If you're paying $50 for Lancôme's Primordiale-whatever, switch. 

Neutrogena On The Spot Acne Treatment: SO WORTH IT!  I can't believe I'm including an acne cream on my list but this stuff is like magic. It has a low level of benzolyl peroxide but for some magical reason it seems to QUICKLY clear up my occasional flareups of hormonal chin acne (doesn't that conjure up a lovely picture?) without drying out the surrounding skin. I'm not sure how they do it, pixie dust, bird poop...I don't know. I don't have the patience to read the full ingredient list but I know it works faster than anything else I've ever used with no drawbacks.

Perle Skin Brightening Cream by Neocutis:  If you have any uneven skin tone or hyper-pigmentation whip out the Visa because this stuff is pricey but oh-so-good and ooooh-so-addictive. Of all the products I bought this is one of my absolute favs. I saw a difference in a week!

Lumière by Neocutis:  Worth it (with a caveat). The skin around my eyes is now positively silky and my dark circles are diminished BUT if you're like me and your only noticeable eye problem are mild dark circles (and not fine lines) you can probably get the similar effect for cheaper.

Lancôme Bi-Facil Eye Makeup remover: So not worth it. This is supposed to be more effective than other eye makeup removers and gentler on the eyes. That's why it's 5xs more expensive than all the other eye makeup removers. Whatever. Stick with the $5 wipes you can buy at Trader Joes. You'll save money AND you'll get a free sample to munch on. Remember, they never give you free tasters of popcorn shrimp at the Lancôme counter

Skinceuticals Renew Overnight: Proof that there is a God and She loves us. Seriously this stuff has changed my face. I can now glow without doing anything drastic like, I don't know, dipping myself in radiation or getting pregnant. AND the fine lines on my forehead are barely noticeable now! I love, love, love this product. I think it might even be worth taking on a second job so you can afford it...well, okay maybe not. But if you DO have to take a second job this product will keep you from looking stressed about it ;-)

Okay, that's it. Hope you don't mind my taking over a literary blog with something this superficial. But what's the point of having a screenname like Kyra "fashionista fatale" Davis if you're not going to engage in the occasional superficial pleasure?  

--Kyra "Fashionista Fatale" Davis 

(as if you needed to be reminded)

I'm Melting....melting...

It's hot. I'm hot. My basset looks like he's melted onto the kitchen floor. My kids haven't left the house in weeks - and I'm terrified to walk outside with eggs.

You can't buy milkshakes in this weather - even at a drive-thru. The second that shake hits the air, it doesn't melt, it evaporates as if I'd shot it with a lazer (which of course I wouldn't do, because hey! It's a milkshake!).

You can't let a black dog outside for more than a minute. Their little brains dissolve. I know this because I'm babysitting my friend Michele's black shitzu. I think she's forgotten she's a dog. And she keeps bogarting the a/c vents.

I don't leave anything in the car now. I left my cell in the car for an hour and when I got it, it went into a kind of Linda Blair activity with spinning icons and shutting on and off. Even leaving the windows open during the day doesn't help. In fact - it may be making things worse.

It sucks to walk out of the house, after a shower, only to be coated in a layer of enough sweat to put out a small housefire. Then you walk into an air-conditioned building and start shivering.

It was 113 degrees today. Clearly, Hell has opened up a strip mall in the midwest.

The worst thing ever just happened. I went to the fridge for an ice-cold Becks, only to find I didn't have any. I don't even want to go out and get one. Now that's pathetic. Leslie sad...

I hope you are doing better. Please tell me it's cool outside...somewhere...

The Assassin

Another Day at the Craig Household

And the winner is..... BoDaisy! Bodaisy, email me at christie (at) christie-craig.com

It’s Sunday and I sit here at my desk trying to decide how to approach this very real, personal-experience blog. This one is a little more difficult than most. Don’t worry, it’s not overly sad, so you won’t need a box of tissues. Although, I’m sure my son would love to know that you shed a tear for all his pain and suffering. And yes, there was a lot of that. Unfortunately, the chances are, any tears you may experience will be tears of mirth.

So what’s so difficult about writing this blog? Well, the first thing I always do when approaching a blog is to figure out the underlined message, the theme, or as my old sixth-grade English teacher would call it, the premise. And that’s a problem, because in my opinion this blog has four morals/messages/themes. And I’m not sure which one really is the main topic. So I’m going to ask for your help. After reading the post, tell me which one of the below themes best describe this story. Or even better, if you have a different one, let me know.

1. Warning: Never try this at home
2. Mama always knows best—when will they ever learn?
3. If you can laugh at it, you can live with it—or at least you can when the skin grows back.
4. Why the expression “Chapped Ass” has a whole new meaning now.

Now, before I really start the blog, I feel I should tell you that I only write this with my son’s permission. There just isn’t much he won’t tell you. And his sense of humor is no doubt in optimum working order. You’ve heard the acronym TMI, right? Well to my son (I’ll admit it, he may have inherited this trait—from his father, of course) he thinks it stands for: Tell Me Instantly.

Okay, now that I’ve built up your curiosity, let me explain. The story begins several months ago. My son had been experiencing some back pain. He found that heat helped soothe his sore muscles. One morning, I’m sipping my hot coffee, he walked into my office shirtless and wearing PJ bottoms. Now when I’m writing, it takes a good opening line to get my attention out of a story. And he had a pretty good one, “Mom, does this look bad?”

He turned around and I immediately saw a blister the size of a nickel on his back.

“What happened?”

“Heating pad,” he told me. “I fell asleep on it.” (Here is premise number one: Warning: Never try this at home.)

My mouth dropped open. “Good Lord, son. It has to be broken to get that hot. Throw it away!” (Premise number two: Mama knows best—will they ever learn?)

But did he listen to mom’s advice? Hell no. In his defense, it’s not all his fault. He was born with two serious ailments that led to this situation.

A: he’s a man. (This ailment is never going to change.)

B: he’s not quite out of the stage where he thinks everything his mom tells him is stupid, and some day mom will be forced to see this. (This ailment may change, but considering even this experience hasn’t made a load of difference, I’m not holding my breath.)

Anyway, back to the story. Let’s fast forward a week. I’m at my computer sipping my hot coffee and in walked my son, again shirtless and wearing PJ bottoms.

“Mom,” he said, “I hate to say it, but you might have been right.” Now this was an excellent opening line and I immediately gave him my full attention.

“About what?”

“The heating pad,” he said and frowned in what appeared to be pain.

I frowned back at him. “Turn around.”

He did and I didn’t see any nickel-sized blisters.

“I think you’re okay.”

He looked back at me over his shoulder. “I don’t think so. It’s not my back.” He reached his hand back and pointed downward.

Of course, I did what every loving, concerned parent would do. I started laughing. “You burnt your a$$?”

He nodded and smiled somewhat sheepishly. You gotta love that kid’s ability to smile in the face of pain.

Normally, I don’t ask to be mooned, but as I said, I’m a concerned parent. “Drop your drawers, buddy.”

Much to his credit, he flinched. “Do I have to?”

I give him the maternal stink eye.

“I’ve seen it before.”

He shot me the moms-are-idiots look and said, “You haven’t seen it in years. It might have changed. Gotten a lot prettier, of course.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just do it.”

He did it. Down came the PJ bottoms and I gave him my honest assessment and opinion, which was: “Holy Shit!” We’re not talking nickels anymore, people; we’re talking baseballs and both cheeks.

Now, for the sake of keeping this story from turning into a novel, let’s just jump forward to the emergency room.

“What’s the reason for your visit?” the attendant asked.

Hubby answered, “I’ve always said he was a pain the a$$, now he knows I’m right.” Yeah, hubby has a bit of a sense o f humor, too.

Now while there were some funny comments made about my son being unable to sit in the sitting room, let’s fast forward to when we actually see the good doctor whom I sure wished he’d called in sick that day.

Doctor said, “Pull your pants down.”

Son said, “Can I just open my mouth and say ‘Ahh?’”

Doctor said, “I have other patients.”

Son said, “Not like me you don’t. This one is going to be memorable—a highlight of your career. And by the way, it’s okay to laugh. My mom did.” He pulled down his pants, without succumbing to tears, which was amazing.

Doctor, a true professional, gave us a very intelligent assessment of the situation: “Holy shit!” (See, it wasn’t just me.)

Hubby said, “He’s a butt model, Doc. Please tell us his career isn’t over.” (Premise number 3: if you can laugh at it, you can live with it?)

The doc, obviously not a fan of the motto, said, “This is serious. Do you know what third degree burns mean?”

Son, who seldom does serious even when in extreme pain, and especially when he’s exposing his buttocks, said, “It means my mooning days are over ‘cause if I’m ever in lineup, they’ll know it was me.” That actually got a chuckle out of the doctor.

It also meant six weeks of wound therapy, and my son dropping his drawers to more women that he’d ever fantasized about.

It also meant my changing butt bandages for six weeks while desperately working on a deadline. So if my next book has a lot of a strange humor in it, you’ll know why.

And that concludes my story with the last underlined theme of: Why the expression “Chapped Ass” has a whole new meaning now.

So, what has been going on in your household? Anything exciting to share?

And today I have a very special contest. I’m giving away an ARC of Don’t Mess With Texas. That’s right, tell me which of the morals/messages/themes you feel better suited this story, or come up with a new one and one commenter will win an ARC of the first book in my Hotter in Texas series.

CC