“This part is my favorite,” Keri says, leading her mother up the stairs to the observation deck. The room is gray and empty apart from a single row of metal chairs, just as gray as the room itself. It’s quiet here, the only sound a slow whir of ventilation banks on the wall. And there, through one large pane of protected glass, is the Earth. Home in a flat black sky. “It feels better to see it sometimes,” Keri tells her mother. “Then you don’t feel so far away.”

There’s another soldier in the room, and he’s quiet too. People rarely talk when they’re here – not because they’re not allowed, but just because it’s better that way. Keri’s mother stares out into the blackness, Earth in its three-quarters view. It takes some getting used to, that this isn’t the moon in the sky you’re looking at. It’s the other way around.

“I’ll show you the terrarium next,” Keri says.

But her mother is stunned by the view. She’s entranced. That’s normal. Everyone is like that the first time. She finally turns, her eyes full of more wonder than Keri has ever seen in them, like she was a child and not the old woman she actually is. “I didn’t know there was a terrarium.”

“Yeah,” Keri says. “There’s birds and plants there too. And even rain sometimes. It doesn’t smell like real rain though. I can tell the difference.”

- Keri, from a not yet titled chapter of Lakeside Heights

notes: this one was taken in the photo gallery of the National Air and Space Museum, and believe me, when you go all the way to the National Air and Space Museum to take pictures of metal chairs, you get some really strange looks, lol!

But it was sitting in those chairs, and looking at photos of the Earth from space, and the gray tile and walls all reminded me of my moon base from my LH story, and the observation deck room where the soldiers can go to see the Earth in the moon’s sky.

Though in reality, the gallery was far from quiet. And I kept getting annoyed because people were walking through my shot and trying to sit in my chairs! My chairs, people! Leave my chairs alone! lol!

outtakes:

I am totally not a book reviewer. Or any sort of media reviewer for that matter, in any capacity.

I’ll be forever haunted by two of my experiences. It was about my junior year of college, and I thought I might explore being a media reviewer. That’s what college is for, trying things, making mistakes, finding out what you might or might not be good at. And for maybe two years, I had a brief stint over at BlogCritics pretending I was indeed a media reviewer.

I won’t link those reviews here. I was twenty-three – nobody should be held accountable for the things they do and say when they’re twenty-three, don’t you think? For crying out loud, I wrote a blog called “Peace and Jellybeans”!!!

And so I wrote this review for a band called Lovedrug, and their album Pretend You’re Alive. They were really a decent band, and the review itself was mostly positive, except for some small critiques that were ungrounded and that I was really not qualified to give. Who the heck was I to think I knew better?

But have you ever heard of them? No? Is it because I wrote that less-than-shining review when I was twenty-three and full of myself and all high on getting free review copies of albums and books?

Lovedrug, if you’re reading, it was a great album. I’m sorry if it’s my fault you aren’t more famous. You should be, because your album was really, really good. My favorite song was “Spiders”. I also loved “Blackout”, “Paper Scars”, and “In Red”. But the whole album is a hit, really.

Kind of like old-school Goo Goo Dolls, don’t you think?

Pretend You’re Alive is here. You should totally buy it.

And from this point on, I’m sticking with what my mother used to tell me, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

But then, saying nice things can come back to bite you in the butt too. Also during that beloved time as a media reviewer, I wrote a very positive review for book, The Perfume Factory. It was a charming little book. Both my hubby and I liked it quite a bit. Knock-on effects of that? I guess I did a pretty decent job on the review, because dude pimped it ALL over the place.

So now if you Google my name, you won’t get past the first page without finding my review of that book. And you know, maybe that’s not the first thing I want people to find when they’re searching for me, since I want to be an author myself some time soon.

I guess I didn’t know that when I was twenty-three.

So lesson learned – the internet lasts forever, kids! And the things you put out there when you’re twenty-three will stick around to haunt you forever, even if only on your conscience.

I always feel squeamish about reviewing the books I read. Unless I absolutely loved it, and intend to gush about it, most of the time I’ll just commit to the whole “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” rule.

Last night I read a book that I liked even less than Twilight. (note: by the way, this unnamed book was not the *wonderful* book listed in my “right now” box there on the sidebar!) Or at least, in my opinion. Right, that’s all it is, one opinion?

The premise was canned, the plot was contrived and pushed just the way you’d expect it to go. The dialogue was atrocious. The characters were mostly stock, and the main character was wholly unlikable. Her complaints didn’t have enough grounding, her past traumas were painted thinly, and her decisions seemed to materialize out of air.

But at the same time, if you’d looked up this book, you’d find dozens upon dozens of glowing reviews from women who loved it. They say things like: it was enjoyable, and fun, and it had a good message.

So what is an opinion worth anyway, in either direction? Clearly this book was just not intended for me. I spoil myself on the best writing and storytelling in contemporary literature, so it’s no surprise that a lighter read might feel like a waste of my time. Maybe I should have known better?

But at the same time, I do enjoy “lighter” reads sometimes. And I thought this might be one of them. The premise seemed interesting, and I really thought I might love it. But I didn’t love it, at all! The execution was just badly done. It could have been a great “light” read, but it wasn’t. And as a writer of novels myself, it’s helpful for me to really pin-point *why* I didn’t like something, in real and concrete reasons.

Though at the same time, I am under no obligation to share those reasons. Maybe there should be a sort of kinship between authors? If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?

So are bad reviews helpful? Not every book is meant for everyone, and maybe my less-than-glowing review might save someone a few hours of her life. A bad review isn’t to flame the author (and I never would, not even Stephanie Meyer! lol!), but to alert readers that in some cases, if you’re spoiled on fine, well-developed literature, then there are certain kinds of books you might not want to waste your money on.

But at the same time, some day soon, my book will be getting less-than-glowing reviews from someone. Perhaps from someone who read it not knowing it wasn’t intended for them. Like this book wasn’t meant for me.

What about you? If you’re an author, hopeful or already published, do you review the books you read? Do you rate and star them? And do you put your name on it?

You recognize a friend’s car when you see it, even if it’s just an ordinary black one, four-door sedan like any number of cars like it in this city. She and Jodie have the same model, because Amelia told her it was a good car. She recommended it. Jodie bought black, and Amelia has it in beige. Jodie got the built-in GPS, but Amelia wanted to spring for the moon-roof instead.

Funny thing is, you don’t forget the car just because you happen to not be friends with that person anymore. You still remember it; you still see it go by and you stop a little.

- Amelia, part of the soon-to-be novel, Exactly Where They’d Fall

notes: and it dawns on me that this excerpt might be a little spoilery for this novel. Ah well, I think from the set up, it’s largely clear these two might run into some trouble along the way, lol!

I’m not really sure what I would have liked from this shot. I’m not sure if I captured it or not. I’m thinking not quite. Maybe I’ll have to make it a project of mine to take pictures of moving cars, lol! Any time I caught a shot of a car moving through the frame, I didn’t like it. It felt ill-placed. But this one has black cars stopped at a light, and I could imagine Amelia walking toward them, as if Jodie was in one of them. Anyway…

I also had a tired four year-old with me, who was exhausted from walking around the city all day.

And I’m pretty sure that guy across the street was wondering what I was taking a picture of, lol!

It’s what I had in mind, almost, but at the same time, it’s totally not. And these have me fuming:

Kirkus Indie
BlueInk Reviews

Both venues are charging self-published authors several-hundred dollars for a review.

As far as I know, publishers do not pay any reputable book reviewer (like Kirkus, or Publisher’s Weekly) to review their books. Correct me if I’m wrong, please, but I believe they just submit the books, two copies, a couple/few months before the release date, and the books get reviewed. Free.

None of these places will review a self-published book though. Even most independent book bloggers will not review a self-published book.

I read somewhere (can’t remember where), that the reason they’re offering up these services is because there are far too many books for them to review everything (fair enough). And that great small-press and independent books are being pushed aside (fair enough). So they thought they’d offer up this service, for a fee – but charge only the self-published authors? Big publishers still get their review for free.

Now if they were charging everybody a fee, that would be fair. If the fee was something a little less astronomical than four-hundred-freaking-twenty-five dollars! But they’re not charging everybody. Only indie authors, the little guys with the smallest budgets, and that makes me irate. >:(

Matt always loved the fireplace. When Felicity was a baby, this is what he and Leila used to do, light a fire and spend the night sitting in front of it. He thought they both enjoyed it. She would talk, and he would listen, and now he’s sorry that he never had anything to say back to her. But it was enough for him, the timbre of her voice, lyrical and clear, the crackle of the fire, the rustic smell of wood burning, as close to the earth as it gets. It was all he ever needed.

One night, in one of those first tumultuous weeks after it all came out, they were sat in front of a fire just like this. The silence between them was almost comfortable, the way a fight fades and loses momentum, the way anger dissolves into apathy. So they sat in front of the fire, trying to summon a conversation but finding so little to talk about beyond what their children did that day. He tried to reach to her, and at their contact, she jumped back like a shiver.

After a minute, he tried again. He reached out to her, and this time, she eased into it. And so did he. He pulled her close, and for a moment they settled there. Until he caught a glimpse of her eyes – behind the reflection of firelight on their glassy surface, underneath, they were lost and full of so much despair. It gutted him. He couldn’t stand the sight of it, so he pulled her cheek to his shoulder and forgot it was there.

- Matt, from “ghost from a wishing well, part 4″, Lakeside Heights

notes: cheated a little bit here, if it counts as cheating – I actually took these fire shots a couple weeks ago. I won’t count it as cheating though, because once the real project gets under way, I’ll have to use my time as best I can to make sure I have a photo to deliver every week. If that means I store up a bunch ahead of time, then so be it!

Again, it was hard to pick just one. I also liked the one below with the reflection on the floor. But I think I liked the wide shot just a little bit better.

Oh, and sorry for using a piece of “The Saddest Story Alive” as an excerpt, lol!

A runner-up:

And more outtakes on the Flickr page!

Every night, part of me says, find a day job. Find something responsible, teaching piano lessons, or audition for symphony work. Likely both if I want to support a family. The other part of me says responsible is the last thing I want to be.

I come home late most nights, the same time of night that drunks get kicked out of the bars, stumbling and laughing through the streets. Lara sleeps on the couch, TV on mute, book slipping out of her hand, two empty wine glasses on the table. Two glasses is not unusual. She has friends. I can’t expect her to spend all these nights alone. She breathes so softly, but I can see her chest rise and fall. I don’t hear her breaths, but instead the breaths of our girls, asleep upstairs, sound carried by baby monitor fuzz. We tried all the different brands, all combinations of channels and frequencies. I insisted on this house, she always likes to remind me. Constantly she likes to remind me, this one is my fault. It must be the spot, this one spot, the radio waves or cell phone towers give us inescapable static. We learn to live with it. We tune it down, still there, crackling beneath our perception like background noise.

- Pat, from “The Static” a neglected short story

notes: I’m not exactly impressed with this shot. I did actually drink the wine out of those glasses, lol! So perhaps I wasn’t in the most creative state of mind. Anyway, the static on the baby monitor was hard to do, and I ended up bringing the base into the living room to make it buzz. (Note, my actual child was sleeping at the time, and I didn’t want to make too much noise.) Also, baby monitor interference is annoying to listen to while you take fifty-million shots of the monitor lights

I don’t know what I would have liked it to be. I don’t think I like the composition. Not sure how I would have done it differently though, because the other arrangements I tried were mostly fails too.

Here’s one outtake that I liked, and almost chose for the “official shot”. I wanted more of the wine glasses in it, but overall, I like the composition of this one better. Ah well, let’s call them both “official” shots, lol!

Posting this week 4 shot a little late, so I’ll probably follow up with week 5 pretty quickly here. I do already have it taken.

A warning for my gaming friends. Check this out.

I came out of the shower, having left my game running while I was away. I kept clicking on the window, trying to make it do something… anything. I’m like, “What the hell, why is it crashing?” Tried to move the window, clicked on the close button – nothing.

I turn around and there’s my hubby with a smirk on his face.

My game was minimized. He had taken a screenshot, and I was trying to click on a desktop background, lol!

Be warned, it could happen to you!

This post was inspired by Chuck Wendig’s “Why Your Self-Published Book May Suck a Bag of Dicks.” (Very funny, by the way – go have a read!) And I also have my indie author hat on today too, so this is what you get. I’m gonna crap out some rainbows here, so bear with me.

There needs to be a system of checks in indie-publishing. Not gatekeepers, like the traditional publishing industry has, but it will serve the same purpose.

There needs to be a reputable reviewer, somebody with a website, who is opinionated and *loves* to read. And they need to charge less money than fracking $425! I don’t expect it to be free. I’d pay twenty-five bucks or something for the service.

Because you know what, readers DO NOT WANT to slog through 90% bullshit to find one gem in self-published books. I don’t want to either. And until they don’t have to, I’m afraid self-publishing will always carry that stigma.

Aren’t bloggers already doing this, to some extent? Sure, some of them are. But I’m not sure their voices are being heard. And still, even with independent book bloggers, a lot of them won’t even read self-published books.

We need someone with a loud voice, somebody willing to slog through the slush. (That’s where the twenty-five bucks comes into play?) Someone who comes with some weight in the publishing industry, somebody everyone will respect and listen to? (That person is not me, definitely not me, or anybody I know. Maybe you know this person?) And by reviewing, they’ll put a sort of “stamp” on this indie book. Let’s say three-tiered. Passable, good, and fracking amazing? Then indie authors can go ahead and put that stamp on their cover. “My book was rated “good” by Joe-Schmoe-book-reviews.” Then the book stands apart from all the other self-published slush out there.

And some people will fail. I say, let them fail. If they don’t put in the hard work, why should they pass? That way, there’s still no gatekeeping. If you want to get your book out there, then by all means, go for it! But at the same time, we’re not all flopping around in the same slush. Those of us who work harder will be allowed to shine.

“But what if Joe Schmoe just didn’t like my work!?! He didn’t get my vision!!!”

Fair enough, this does happen sometimes. Maybe it can be a panel of reviewers? 12 of them, like a jury or something. Readers who enjoy work from across all genres and styles. That’s fair then? I mean, really, if 12 people all agree that your book sucks, then it probably does.

But we need this. We need something like this. Because all the other esteemed reviewers out there, the prizes and competitions, they don’t want us to play. So why can’t we just make up our own game?

So there’s an idea. Pass it on. Talk about it. Somebody start it up!