We'll see how bad the cover is. I made it on Word and had to convert it to a JPEG so I screenshot it and pasted it to Paint, got it to size and sharpened it a little, but it was pretty blurry. Hopefully it turns out okay because I really like it:
This one was hard to come up with. It took all day to think of something, and I eventually had to Google The Princess Bride for ideas and finally got one. So I took a bunch of quotes from the book and made it my cover. I kind of really like it.
Let's see. The past few days have been such a blur. Probably half because I'm way too anxious to get a book that's been burning a hole in two different hard drives for over five years out into the world. Damn. Don't be a closet writer. Because you will one day want to come out, and when you do, it's going to suck so much ass being patient getting them all published. So let's see, half because I'm anxious and, oh yes, probably half because I'm doped up on so many pain meds it's not even funny. Last night I took a muscle relaxant before bed and it hit me like a ton of bricks. My body went numb, I started to float, and I couldn't control my laughter. It was the weirdest experience I've ever experienced. But. Moving on. I've come to a conclusion: Jess. That's right; Jess. I am pretty sure...I got this huge muscle spasm due to stress. That's right. Stupid Rory and Jess stress. I swear to god. I hate the two of them together so much it's crippled me. Physically, mentally, crippled me. Damn you my love for Gilmore Girls!
Seriously though, I ordered a new edition of my book, adapted it into a hard cover so if everything is squeaky perfect then I'll order the hard cover and start promoting all my wonderful creations. Let's do this thing.
After nine long hours slaving away on Lulu's manuscript converter, I finally figured out the problem and managed to upload a flawless edition of my book. I even figured out why Lulu's manuscript was 10 pages more than mine. Needless to say: I am now profesh. So, here it is:
Gorge. Totes gorge. You're welc, world. So go buy it now and make your lives better.
I just remembered why I came on here in the first place. Because you didn't need to be reminded how strong and wonderful I am. You remember. What I was going to say, was between my new book corrections and this neck pain, I have watched zero Gilmore Girls and Supernatural. And I'm not handling it well. In fact, it's probably contributing to my prolonged non-getting better. But there's just so much that goes into editing, and I'm also trying to get it to be eligible to be sold in stores. Which is good. But at what price???
So. Since my chiropractor appointment four days ago, I have been in constant pain. I know I've been appearing strong and godlike in the midst of all this neck stuff, but I must be honest. This. Fucking. Hurts. And because of that, I've temporarily gone insane. I feel emotional, I feel angry, I feel frustrated, and anything can trigger it. I have thrown exactly three emotional cry-tantrums, and earlier today I came home from a bullshit day and my boyfriend goes, "Do you want to watch Harry Potter?" and I burst out bawling saying how much I love Harry Potter. It's exhausting being this emotional. I mean I'm pretty used to it since I'm just in general a very emotional person, but even I can't take this. And if I can't take it, from all the experience I've had...it's safe to say no one can. And I've pretty much become the strongest person in the world because I have not only survived this, but survived with the most class anyone could muster.
I must say it was the best morning ever. It all started with my boyfriend saying he would go check the mail for me. Since I'm injured and all. He comes back announcing there was nothing in the mail but he brought some treats from the lobby. And "this." See, what had happened was there was nothing in our mailbox but I also requested that he check inside because the Leasing Office keeps the larger packages hostage. Also within the walls of said building are typically a few different refreshments: an espresso machine equipped to provide certain beverages such as French Vanilla, Mocha, hot chocolate, lattes, etcetera. So when my boyfriend rounded the corner to where I lounged on the bed, he was carrying two espresso drinks and a package. A package for me. A mocha, and a package from Lulu. Lo and behold, it contained this beautiful book and I'm in love. It is a fucking book. A real book. One I wrote. It's glorious. So, I love the size, I love the font, and everything about it. A few things I want to change, but it won't be too bad. And there weren't any random extra pages so that part's a little confusing but whatever. I just love when he does stuff like that. This is how I know he is going to have a good proposal.
Now I'm just anxiously waiting for my book to come. Will I hate it? Will I like it? Seriously, what are those ten extra pages? Will I want to choose a different size? Is the font too small? I want to get started on formatting all of my manuscripts now but I still don't know if I'll like anything about this one! Nerds.
Small update: I have severely injured my neck. Doing nothing. About a month ago I noticed some neck pain, but not very much, and a week ago I woke up and couldn't move my head. Now I'm just reduced to a crippling amount of pain and the inability to look to the right. I have to lay in bed and ice it and pretend that I'm not dying because I must exude a certain amount of awesomeness. For that is what I am. Awesome.
I love that I'm still getting rejection letters. I always read the first viewable sentence, saying something along the lines of thank you for submitting to whatever stupid agency they're writing from and then I click on it, just to see, I mean, why not, and then the very next word is unfortunately. Followed by it's not for us and the publishing business is very subjective and they hope I find an agent who's looking for actually decent stuff and not shit like selfies. What amuses me is the fact that they're bothering to click send of this automatic email. Like, don't even waste your time. Don't even waste your breath. You are not crushing my world with yet another rejection letter, I never knew your agency name, I never knew your name, I never cared for anything about you. Like I was waiting on your email, like I was checking my mail every second of the day waiting for your word. The most you're doing is filling my inbox with junk mail. I am published without you, and I can make it without you. Contacting agents was THE biggest waste of my time, and I'm a little ashamed I even sucked up to people THAT much. Never again. I've learned my lesson.
So on one fateful day years and years ago I happened upon this show called Pushing Daisies and fell in love. Till only recently I have lived my life looking back fondly on my viewing time of it and recommended it to any ear who would listen; the only reason I stopped being because I just bought it on DVD. Re-watching it I re-appreciate it and re-fall in love with it. Also re-watching it, I realized just how much it influenced my Mia Sloane Chronicles. I loved the way the story was told so I fashioned my narrator after the fancy British gent in the show. Sigh. Good times, good times. I'm pretty sure the time I watched it was the time I was also watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and that is a fucking great ass show too. That's one I'm also going to get on DVD, because it was brilliant. That was a good solid viewing on Netflix; I'm very pleased. I'm still very pleased since I'm juggling Supernatural, Gilmore Girls, Scandal, Grey's Anatomy, and Archer, but still, I remember the days when I was watching all the Desperate Housewives and Ugly Bettys. Obsessed. I can never get enough of a really good show. But anyway, there's only two short seasons but they are so worth it, not one dud, never disappoints. So rent it or go buy it if you haven't already. You won't regret it.
My trial run has finished printing and is shipped. I'm totes excited. So I printed it in the least expensive way of course, but I do plan on making it available in the store approved version, and EPUB version (once I get my boyfriend to read the instructions on how to do it), and hardcover. And I will have in my possession the hard cover. And I'm so excited. Totes. Magotes.
So I've already changed my cover and I like it a lot better:
I love the addition of the grey and I thought it would be cool to make the Hollywood hills in the back the Horsetooth hills in Ft. Collins, since, you know, that's where the story's set. So I'm pretty pleased with it. Especially since it was made through Paint.
Well, here she is:
I can't wait till I get it, I'm so anxious to see how everything worked out. The font size, if I like the book size, what the extra 10 pages are...it says the book is 449 pages but the actually document is like 439. So I'm a little unnerved by that. But that's what the trial run is for.
So through Lulu you can make a hardcover edition of your book. YES PLEASE. I'm super stoked, after this trial run with MOPH I'm going to make sure fonts and the book size are good and then I'm going straight for The Painter, because that mother was born to be not just published but published in a fancy-ass hardcover.
After my lovely post yesterday, I promptly turned around and began complaining to my boyfriend and together we proceeded to vent on how much the world sucks. So, I've decided that I have lost all faith in agents and so I went ahead and self-published My Own Private Hollywood on Lulu. I spent all day today getting the document formatted correctly, adding in special pages, getting it designed the way I want it to be, and last night I actually whipped out a cover. I just now placed an order for it so I can view it and make any changes to it before making it public, but I must say I'm a little excited. I mean...what little I make through any self-publishing service (i.e. $4 at most), I definitely won't be relying too much on this, but I think it was the wake up call I needed. I needed to open my eyes and acknowledge that I can't really rely on writing as something I can seriously pursue as a career; it's like saying "I'M GOING TO BE A CELEBRITY." No, you're not. There's only a handful of people who actually get to and the other 99% of the population just sit around crying and being all failure-y. Because as much as being a famous writer would help me out financially, I'm not going to not live my life in the chase. I want to get married, have a really nice wedding, go on a luxurious honeymoon, I want to have at least three kids, for whom I can provide anything and everything, and then just be happy for the rest of my life with my person. And in order to do that I need money. So, writing will be my side job. I need to buckle down and find something that can support me and my future, and writing isn't the answer. Which is fine. I wanted it to be, but I accept that it can't. It's way too luck-driven. So. Let's do it, average Joe job.
It's one of those days. I don't feel like reading my current project, I don't feel like editing, I don't feel like writing, I don't feel like reaching out to a bunch of agents who will just send me a non-personalized rejection letter in response to an email they didn't even read, and all the while there's books out there like Ella Enchanted, and, other, you know, shitty reads that can't come to mind right now. It's frustrating. It's really frustrating. And my mind keeps going back to how often I've read that it doesn't matter if you're a great writer or your story is fucking ambrosia, if agents think your stuff can't be marketed it can't be marketed. AND. It doesn't matter if you're a great writer or your story's ambrosia. Because the agent has to like it before anything else. And agents are liking...mediocre crap right now. So needless to say I'm feeling a little helpless. And like giving up. I don't know. I don't know. It's kind of bullshit. Writing is what I do. Period. And either it's my career or it isn't. Writing is what I will always do, whether I'm paid for it or not. It would make writing a lot easier if it were my job, because, seriously, working another one so I can do this on the side no doubt will get a little exhausting. So, agents, here are your options: 1) Publish me so I can make the world so freaking happy. Or 2) Don't publish me and deprive the world of my superhuman writing abilities. And make the world sad. It's up to you. Ball's in your court.
So Weebly sucks again. I wonder why it keeps doing that? I just typed out an entire explanation for why I titled this entry "Well actually" and I clicked post and it all erased. Then I had to take a deep breath because I almost rampaged. Similar to the way Trevor does on GTA5. So, thanks to Weebly, I'll keep it short and slightly angry. Again.
It turns out after chapter 4 Witches is essentially a rough outline. So I have an entire second half of a story to write. But that's okay. I'm amazing. So fear not, friends. It shall be done.
Picture this: A cold, snowy evening. Jim 'N Nick's BBQ: cheese biscuits, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes and gravy, baked beans, french fries, mac and cheese, freshly squeezed lemonade. Then: tall Starbucks mocha and Hershey's chocolate with toffee. Celia Bedelia, my kitten of ten months, curled up in a little purring kitty ball by my feet. Witches and Supernatural and Gilmore Girls. That is my life right now. I am a happy girl.