First off, the deal of the day. PRINCE OF SWORDS AND LORD OF DANGER are $.99 each today. Prince (we shall not abbreviate it as POS!) is Kindle only, Lord of Danger is Kobo and Nook as well. Yes, these have been on sale before (well, Prince was free) but it's a Double Deal Day and I'm running out of books I control.
And I just realized, due to my hideous math skills, that I started a day too soon and we're going to have 41 days celebrating 40 years as a published writer. Well, one to grow on.
Oh, and that link worked, yesterday! You click on it and MARRIED TO IT downloads to your hard-drive. How very cool! Plus I wrestled the scanner into submission as well -- a triumph all around.
Lord, that picture is huge! Well, you get to see the details of my Smith Corona. And mind you, I'd probably been published for 5 years at this point. Astonishing! Looks like I was typing one of my many drafts.
And I know I promised to confess the Big Lie but I want to wait till tomorrow and see if I have any more photos. I was going to tell you the story of another shameful incident in my past, but since I was 12 years old and the details are just too depressing and TMI there's really no need to go into it. I'll spare you.
Oh, God, I suddenly got depressed thinking about the Bad Years. We will quickly think of something entertaining. I know, RWA.
I like to misbehave at RWA. It started a ways back, when I was a RITA finalist and we were told not to talk about bodily functions or a host of other things if we happen to win. I won and immediately went over the list of the things we weren't supposed to mention and mentioned them all. A couple of years later we were in Hawaii and I was handing out an award (well, maybe it was the next year). I dressed up in a grass skirt and coconut shell bra (yes, they made them that big), wrapped a couple of pareus around me (yes, I needed two) and when it came time to give out the award I dropped the pareus on the ground and stepped on stage in all my glory. Fortunately I handed the award to a friend so I wasn't hogging too much of her glory.
A couple of years later someone on the board flat out lied to me (I don't like lies). I was supposed to read a piece in tribute to Nora Roberts and then this perfidious BM (I like those initials) called me up and asked if I was going to read the excerpt properly. I said of course. Then called her back and said "did someone ask you to ask me?" She lied and said "no." I thought some more. Called her back and said I wasn't sure I was the one to do it. She was a total snot. So instead Crusie came on stage to hand out an award, whisked a nun's headdress from under her skirt and put it on her head and held up a sign that said "Free Krissie." RWA finds me a little tiresome occasionally.
But really, I try to behave. When it was suggested I bring out the winning RITA for best Inspirational wearing the nun's habit I'd rented for the weekend (Harlequin gave a Black and White ball and I couldn't think of a better black and white outfit) I said no, because it could take attention away from the winner (I'd gotten grief for Hawaii). And when they asked me to host the awards banquet one year I had so many people ordering me to only read from the script that I made do with making multiple costume changes.
Tomorrow is the actual day my first first, clunky but original book is being reprinted for the first time in 40 years, with some of the most egregious thuds removed, a brand new racy epilogue, a pretty cover, and many many years between the first time it saw the light of day and now. They said being published doesn't change anything. Yes, it does. It's magic. From the moment you first see your book in a store (or on a website) nothing is ever quite the same. They can't ever take it away from you. You walk a little straighter, no one gets to bully you again (though God knows non-genre writers and readers will try).
And tomorrow I'll expose the Big Lie. We'll forget about the small one -- too depressing, and I'm not in this world to depress people.