Changing book descriptions gives new life

GRAB THE READER BY THE THROAT?

The book is fixed; the advertising is not.

This is difficult for me, because in some ways I love my original book description for Pride’s Children: PURGATORY, but it isn’t doing well in sales to strangers. Without strangers finding your book on Amazon and BUYING it, you are essentially dead in the water.

This spring’s ad campaign on Amazon was a wash. I got a decent number of clicks, but far fewer sales once potential readers hit the product page. They’d already read the ad copy, and had seen the cover, so the culprit has to be the next thing in the click-path: the description. Without the KU borrows, it wouldn’t have even been that successful.

The price is also a potential problem, but setting it to 0.99 (I won’t do free – not a good plan with only one book because the question ‘loss leader to what?’ comes up) was not effective, and I’ve tried that several times, and with several promotional newsletters.

The original book description and back cover copy (minus praise):

Here’s the old description, for comparison purposes:

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WHAT YOU DO WITH AN OBSESSION COUNTS

I, KARENNA ELIZABETH Ashe, being of sound mind, do… But that’s it, isn’t it? Being here proves I am not of sound mind…”

So begins Book 1 of the Pride’s Children trilogy: Kary immediately regrets the misplaced sense of noblesse oblige which compels her to appear, live on national television—at exorbitant personal cost.

What she cannot anticipate is an entanglement with Hollywood that may destroy her carefully-constructed solitudinarian life.

A contemporary mainstream love story, in the epic tradition of Jane Eyre, and Dorothy L. Sayers’ four-novel bond between Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, Pride’s Children starts with a very public chance encounter, and will eventually stretch over three separate continents.

Note: no Selling Paragraph, no Call to Action.

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A New Hope

So I’ve gritted my teeth, read tons of books and blogs on the ‘blurb’ – or book description, or many other names – and have decided to go for something which might appeal to a wider class of reader.

And hope that it doesn’t discourage the readers who would have been attracted to the original version – I still want those readers if 1) I can find them, and 2) I can persuade them that I know how to tell a story, and 3) they become convinced THIS story is worth a try.

Indies have a tough time. Readers don’t realize that we have to supply what a traditionally-published author gets with the deal: the book description comes from the publisher’s publicist.

I read bunches of descriptions on Amazon, noting which were big publisher creations. Some of these professionals are very, very good. And make bold, sweeping statements that pre-dispose you to be wowed.

My generation doesn’t self-praise very well.

Without further ado, here is the current contender:

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IN A WORLD WHERE INSTANT LOVE IS PRIZED, WHAT IS INTEGRITY WORTH?

Reclusive ex-physician Kary Ashe transmutes personal tragedy into beloved best-selling novels. Actor Andrew O’Connell revels in the enviable status of leading man, with a reputation for perfectionism, an Irish temper, and broken hearts in his wake. Reigning Hollywood princess Bianca Doyle fears she’s already past her peak, and schemes to cement her position in the pantheon with Andrew as mate.

When Kary appears on a national talk show to support a cherished cause, and becomes obsessed by Andrew, movie star, she thinks she’s safe because she will never see him again. While Bianca, watching from far-off LA, knows she brings him her coveted insider rank.

But his next movie is filming near Kary’s Sanctuary, with Bianca as costar. Can Kary risk friendship with this intriguing man? Or will Bianca seduce him and meld her star to his? And will either ultimately satisfy Andrew’s twin lusts for fame and love?

Pride’s Children: PURGATORY is powerful from the very first line. You don’t read PURGATORY: you live it. A deeply psychological experience, with no sleights of hand, from the drivers’ seat right behind the eyeballs of three passionate people who can’t all get what they want. The choices, the devastating decisions, the consequences are all presented with the intimacy of a conscience. Ehrhardt conveys to you the gut-wrenching secrets of a disabled writer at the peak of her powers, an actor waiting in the spot where lightning strikes, and a ruthless woman who sees a golden future if she can but stick the Hollywood landing once and for all, as if you were capable of wearing their skin.

Buy in ebook and print; or download from KU.

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Comments welcome!

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‘Revenue-enhancing’ has become a dirty word

DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU SIGNED AND WHAT IT OBLIGATES YOU TO?

Even if you have insurance!

It didn’t used to be like this, and I’m sure they have plenty of good reasons, probably having to do with nitpicking by insurance companies, but I’m getting really tired of getting lied to, and having to be on my guard all the time for every little thing when I go to the office of some medical professionals.

I don’t want to name names, as I suspect it’s widespread, but I’m finding that I can’t get out of a medical/dental office without little enhancements  to the experience being offered as if they were included, or as ‘covered by insurance, so don’t worry about the cost,’ and when I check turn out to be covered – yes, but at 50%. Or with a ‘credit toward’ some expense which is entirely optional.

Or in the case of one practitioner, when he informed us that our insurance allowed us the reduced cost which had been negotiated by the insurance company – they didn’t actually pay him anything! I felt cheapened by the experience (which was expensive), and wondered whether I was supposed to be offering him his full price!

The lists of what isn’t covered can depend on whether someone entirely separate from you has called this (whatever it is) by one name or a different name, such as people being warned lately that a hospital admission (going in and staying over night) is not necessarily a ‘hospital admission,’ covered by insurance!

It wouldn’t be my problem, except that these little untruths are destined to cost ME big money, if not just time and effort. And hours on the phone to attempt to straighten out with person after person on the phone in ‘billing.’

Is it necessary – and if so, why isn’t it covered?

I depend on my insurance company to, in some sense, control the costs of medical procedures, which, having written this, may be the problem.

But I can’t change the contract negotiated between whoever is paying for the medical insurance and whoever is paying the providers of medical services by one iota.

I don’t expect to hear, from an insurance company, “doctors recommend this as completely necessary, but we won’t pay for it.”

Also, I don’t actually hear from a provider, “this is absolutely recommended, but insurance won’t pay for it.”

Instead, I will turn up at an appointment for a covered service, and find I have to see the billing person first, because I have a HUGE ‘copay.’ At which point my choices are to leave, or to pay for a bill I wasn’t expecting. For a service the doctor says is entirely optional – but necessary.

The result? Constant vigilance is required.

And I can’t go to one of these visits and deal with something that pops up on the spot (there is a small additional charge for X because insurance doesn’t cover it) – done in such a way that you are a cheapskate if you don’t get the extra candy-flavored teeth protection for your growing offspring.

Or you have to respond to the eye doctor’s in-house glasses representative that yes, you know the frames available at Retailer-X are cheap – and that you don’t care.

You can’t get home, as I did today, and find out that the service you received as ‘it’s time for your X-rays’ is only covered by your insurer every 60 months. And you didn’t ask, because you assumed that was their job.

Am I exaggerating?

I think not. This has happened in at least five different places and kinds of medical services in the past six months.

And even the blood tests are done by a place which hands you a form that says ‘Medicare may not pay for these services’ and requires that you sign that YOU will pay for them if Medicare rejects something – the doctor ordered!

Every time you decide you’re not going to take the risk, you end up spending gobs MORE time there, and may have to fast all night again if your doctor’s office doesn’t happen to be open that early on the day you went in.

Because, ultimately, the buck stops with you, and this stuff is unbelievably expensive (when billed at full rates), and they will send bill collectors after you.

So it’s important, you have little control, you can prepare for one thing and be bowled over by something else completely without realizing it, and every single thing will cause you stress, time, and energy.

I wonder how the older folk cope?

Has this bitten you?

 

When there’s been a hole in your writing

HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOU STILL WRITE LIKE YOURSELF?

The Holy Grail for authors is to be recognized from their writing, because it’s distinctive and personal and memorable. It’s called voice, and goes along with having a style, sometimes for series, sometimes for all your books.

It is an interesting milestone when you find you have developed such features.

And the question I’ve been asking myself since all the garbage happened (starting way back in November of last year) is: Am I still myself as a writer?

Life events change people

And writers are people.

On some of the days I’ve been able to write since the side effects of medications have mostly been out of my system, I have noted with some pleasure that I seem to have learned how to do writing the way I do it – faster.

The process hasn’t changed – I gather a lot of bits my plotting process has decided will be in a particular scene, fill in some lists I have made for myself with such things as ‘What is the heart of this scene?’ and ‘What would happen if this scene weren’t here?’ and such, and start organizing the material into beats which make some kind of sense to me – and then the actual writing seems to flow, dreamlike, from all the little pieces, as they show me where they belong.

Maybe it’s faster because I’ve stopped second-guessing myself: most of the material will fit in, and occasional bits will be postponed, and very rarely a piece will be added to an earlier finished scene.

But I question such gifts.

Is it real?

And is it still me?

I don’t want a reader to notice that something ineffable has changed, and Book 2 feels wrong.

I won’t know the answer to this for a while, but I made a plea to my beta reader to be especially aware of the concept of change as she reads the new material (my method is to send it to her, polished, a chapter at a time).

I’m not sure what the heck I will do it I’ve been changed in my writing by the recent health events. I will accept that maybe the speed has come because I value my tiny bit of functionality even more, now that I’ve experienced how it can disappear completely for months on end.

But first I have to know.

I await her judgment. If she’s not sure, I will get more readers from those who loved PURGATORY, and beg them to look at a couple of chapters.

It’s a scary thought – and one of the things that’s been worrying me along with the obvious aftermath to health problems.

If you notice

anything specific in my NON-fiction – comments and posts and emails – that makes you wonder whether I’m still here, please let me know.

I have literally run to the end of my DIY ways: I can’t tell. And I don’t know why I’m slightly uneasy, unless it’s simply the kind of unease that makes you question EVERYTHING once you trip over something that shouldn’t have been there.

Oh, and: has this ever happened to you?

 

 

Writing poised under the Sword of Damocles

UNSTABLE ROCKS WILL CRUSH YOU

There are too many things going on in my life, and all of them critical.

But the thing that is making it hard to write right now is one I hadn’t expected: I can’t remember quite how I felt BS (BEFORE STENTS), when I ONLY had CFS.

And by ‘feel’ in this instance I mean sensations in the BODY.

What sensations am I having that are worrisome?

I’m writing about these because they are both common and keep happening.

I’m doing far more exercise (even in my pitiful little amounts) that I was doing before. Part of it has involved a rowing motion with my arms against a resistance, which uses the chest muscles (pectorals) in an unaccustomed way.

So it isn’t really surprising that these muscles have a spot or two where there is sensation. By which I DON’T necessarily mean pain. Just a tightness that is in the muscle, in places which vary but are repeatable. Over and above the left breast. Outer, center, inner – is what I call them. Once of them seems to be relieved by burping. There are one or two similar spots on the right side – but the right side is dominant, and the muscles may be more used to being used. So, less noticeable?

Are those spots connected to the stents? Or are they simply the same spots on the same muscles – because that doesn’t change. Are they INSIDE the ribcage? Or outside, in the overlying muscles. It’s hard to tell.

There is a slight shortness of breath – when I climb a bunch of steps in a row. Or walk a longer distance than usual unsupported, such as when I walk from the house to the car. Or walk across the lawn to the mailbox and back. The heart rate can go up noticeably – until I sit down and let myself relax. I should expect SOMETHING when I do that – when is it too much?

There are muscles in my upper arms which get a bit weird – sometimes one will make it impossible to sleep because it waits about 6 seconds, and gives me an electric shock – for very long times, until I get up and do some range of motion exercises and some stretches and maybe eat something, and sometimes take ibuprofen (I’m trying to minimize NSAIDs, so I resist).

The question: are these significant?

All of these things could be symptoms. Of clogging arteries. Of something about to happen again. Of something not quite right.

But the thing is that they are not up to the level of being ‘reportable’ – or, heaven forbid, calling the doctor about on a weekend, or going to the ER.

I feel I’m on permanent ‘symptom watch.’ I’m waiting for the symptoms to get worse before doing something, in the same way I should have done something when the shortness of breath happened BS.

They used to drive me crazy in the hospital asking me to rate my pain. For someone who lives with a fair level of constant other pain, it is difficult to choose the higher numbers on the scale, and I’m aware of both minimizing and exaggerating as possibilities.

So, not being able to say ‘this is significant,’ and instead being in ‘wait and watch’ mode continuously is stressful. And stress is bad.

It would help if I could remember which of these were life BS

Standing has been a problem for years, and causes pain. So is my exercise making that worse? Or is something more nefarious going on?

If I walked with the walker BS, I often had pain the next day – I’m supporting part of my body weight with those chest muscles and arms on the walker.

I did as much exercise as I could do prudently before – including a lot of isometrics, which involve clenching a muscle and holding it. I know there were times when I did more than usual, and really noticed it.

And I used to ride the bike, too. The next day I usually felt it.

But I had no reason before to make an accurate record of pains and locations – my modus operandi has always been to ignore most of this stuff as much as possible so as not to waste energy on what I couldn’t change anyway.

PTS anyone? Post-traumatic stress?

It’s one of the major symptoms, being hyperalert, and wondering and worrying about things which may or may not be triggers.

Always being on alert is more than exhausting.

Wondering exactly where on the continuum you’re supposed to do something wears you down. That and wondering if it’s new/real/important. Or ignorable.

So I’m sharing with my blog, and hoping that noticing and documenting feeling physical and mental is enough to disarm them – and that the PTS is slowly going away as I do so.

I really don’t want to have to find someone and take the energy to explain all this stuff to.

Thanks for listening, if you got this far. Share if it resonates.

On a bicycle I’m a human being

LIFE IS ABOUT USING WHAT YOU HAVE, OR HAVE LEFT

It is a very odd thing, but psychologically important, that you feel different in different circumstances, depending on how you see yourself and society sees you.

It’s probably built into the brain we have that is evolved from millenia of those who survived to pass on their genes: we automatically evaluate those we see for signs of weakness, even when we don’t plan to eat them.

Where is this going?

On a bicycle you can’t tell that I’m disabled. That I can’t walk properly, or for more than a few steps without a walker. I just look like a woman out for a bike ride.

I know many people who can‘t ride a bike because their knees won’t let them, or because their balance is challenged, or because they can’t sit on one for very long due to many problems.

In some sense, I’m better than them.

We judge automatically, instinctively, and if we’re not careful, permanently.

On a bicycle I’m a normal human being.

Not something which botched back surgery back in 2007 has condemned to pain every time I stand for more than a few seconds, and who can’t push off on a stride, but only swing legs from the hip.

Why am I thinking about riding a bike?

Because I have had a major crisis of self-confidence this year, earlier, what with the chest pain and the stents, and the recovery.

And a couple of weeks ago, I got the bike out, did the ritual (helmet, cellphone in the bag under the seat, make sure the hair doesn’t get in my eyes, clip on the pants leg…) and scared myself even though I managed to go out for a spin around the neighborhood.

Forgot my bike gloves, which I later regretted, as my palms were definitely tingly by the time I got back.

First time this year. First time since the approaching winter made it too cold last year. First time since the horrible viruses of November which lasted for three months. First time since I was last myself… You get the idea.

Getting on the bike was NECESSARY to prove to myself I was still myself.

And it failed – in the sense that I felt shaky and uncertain and scared. Because I knew that I was afraid to stop if I had to, because the side effects seem to have emphasized that I’m vertically challenged. Because one of the young college undergraduates in our choir was wearing a cast because she fell off her bike. Because a friend who has CFS fell and broke his foot.

For any number of reasons, that first bike ride didn’t make me feel ‘normal.’ Even my normal, which is a lot smaller than many people’s ‘normal,’ but better than the normal of my friends who are bedridden. I wasn’t back to just hopping on a bike and going for a spin, even the short ones I take.

Solutions?

Well, giving up riding a bike seemed premature (though if you’d felt as unstable on that bike as I did, you’d be seriously considering it).

Buying a new bike? This bike I have is ancient, and rusted, and in need of serious maintenance. A recumbent bike? Or a nice, stable tricycle-for-grownups?

We are looking for a retirement community, and a move to another state is a possibility, and I’m trying not to acquire more stuff now or make permanent decisions about things like this until we are settled.

So, don’t ride the rest of the time we’re in suburban NJ?

The odd physicist’s solution

Or should I say, the physicist’s odd solution? Because it involves physics of stability.

Bicycles are stable, more or less, IN MOTION. 2-D stability, as it were. That’s why they have the kickstand. In motion, they have that gyroscopic effect that they resist falling in the direction perpendicular to their motion. Ie, sideways.

Tricycles have proper 3-D stability. Because there’s something in the perpendicular direction that keeps them from falling over, with or without you on them, whether they’re in motion or not.

Training wheels achieve this effect when you’re learning to ride.

We’re thinking constantly about all the stuff in our house and garage, because a 4 bedroom house with basement and garage has a lot more areas to stuff stuff than a 2 bedroom apartment in a retirement community, which is what we’re aiming at.

One of the things stored in our garage for AGES was a bright yellow cart meant for pulling two small children behind your bike. And that’s what my brain kicked out: stability. A cart intended for small children was designed to be inherently stable: the bike + cart has to be stable while you’re putting those little ones in the back and fastening the seatbelt. Fairly heavy duty for its job: those are your kidlets, and they are small and precious. And HIGHLY visible. With its own reflectors, even.

This time I didn’t fail

Almost didn’t get it attached – that was work. And the attachment mechanism has a plastic pin which went through the snap lock around the bike’s pole – which was maybe not as flexible as it was twenty years ago (plastic seems an odd choice, but that’s what it was). I couldn’t get it through the hole.

So I went and found a nice solid metal bolt of the right diameter, with a nice nut, and have attached this sucker pretty permanently to my bike. It can be removed, but I’m not planning to.

Success!

I put the helmet – and gloves – and bike clip on, stored the cellphone in the little bag, and found that my combination made it much easier for an unstable old rider to get started.

It may have been a placebo effect; or partly psychological (that self-confidence which had decided it found a solution). But I didn’t care. I was up and going, only a little shaky.

I put it to the test on our court: I tried stopping – it felt more stable, not as it had the last time, because I could trust the bike not to fall over, so I could afford to lean on it a bit. It was easy getting started again – I didn’t have to be on a safe place, like our driveway. I was just a woman on a bicycle, stopped. Phew!

All I needed was to not worry about killing myself or damaging something.

I rode around the neighborhood a bit. I stopped to see an old friend I haven’t visited in half a year. She didn’t even think about the cart on the back, but instinctively understood it was more stable.

And I got that little bit of self-confidence up and running: losing the ability to ride a bike was in the same category as when they take your keys away and don’t let you drive any more.

Because, you see, on a bike I’m my normal human being, and you can’t tell how many things I can’t do.

Then I went in and took a nap.