AUTHOR'S CORNER;

BLOGGING; IS IT THE MEDICINE OR THE SUGAR PILL?

Now it might just be me, but I have been growing alarmingly concerned over this new concept called blogging....and yes, before anyone decides to comment, I know that I am actually blogging right now!  However, I have found myself questioning this slightly strange and unusual activity and wondering exactly how beneficial it is.  You see, I, along with many other indie writers have fallen into the trap of the pseudo fame blogging community!  What is it, I hear you ask.  Let me explain, we blog to an audience, right?  The readers visit our pages, read our work, share and like, retweet and comment...right?  Okay, that's good.  We clap our hands in glee when we check our page visits, we congratulate ourselves on scoring a few hundred visitors that day; surely now at least half of them will check us out, look us up on Amazon and purchase a copy or two of our books?  Umm, no, not really........?????

Don't get me wrong; if one is blogging for the love of it, then by all means go ahead, blog to your heart's content!  But if like me you have been advised from very reliable sources that the best way to promote and sell your book is through producing titbits of tantalising blogs to seduce your readers, then we have a problem. Because (and yes I know I have started the sentence with because)  

though you may get a lot of page visitors, they are mainly visiting your page for the blog contents and not necessarily your books! You may have quite a few page visitors, but ask yourself, in the world of literature, how well known are you?

Which brings me to my original question and indeed nagging concern; is blogging actually the medicine to success or the sugar pill which we are given to put us to sleep for a while?  Call me old fashioned, but isn't the best way of promoting a book is to actually advertise that book?  Put posters up of the book?  Get book stores to actually put that book on the shelves?  Nowadays it seems that most indie publishers have a marketing pack ready to hand over to the author, which mainly includes joining facebook and blogging!!

And what is blogging anyhow?  I blog, you blog, we all blog! Seems to me we can all be published bloggers in our own rights!

And of course the sense and feeling of fame will grow each time we get a response or are retweeted.  I keep asking the question what is blogging and realise that even my poor computer does not have a clue as it keeps underlining the word and my page is nicely decorated with red error marks!  Blogging is a fairly new trend and it is growing simply because we live in a 'Big Brother' culture where people like to see what others are up to.  The most successful blogger, it seems are the most personal and outrageous ones!  

We love to share personal news and we love to receive other people's personal news, salivating at the mouth as we search the net for the latest piece of gossip.  As if people's personal news would be any different from our own!  Let's face it, we are becoming a nation of peeping Toms! 

In trying desperately to keep an audience, we will resort to all sorts of subjects, even bordering on the slightly obscene!  Before we know it our thirst for fame grows to an uncontrollable urge and we break the most important rule any writer can break; we reveal ourselves to the world and soon lose the mystery that used to accompany a writer!

Does it make any difference what I have done last week?  Would the world think me a better writer if I revealed a quirk in my personality?  Am I actually selling my work, or am I exposing myself?  

And is it necessary in the 21st Century for the audience to actually know me as intimately as they know themselves?  I have blogged about my difficulties in obtaining book signings, I have blogged about 

barbecues I have held, I have blogged about my child going to hospital, I have blogged about my age, my father's stroke!  Right now my readers know more about me than any potential date (yeah right) I may have.  Having exposed myself and been personal, having bared my soul for all to see (read) and left myself with no literary mystic, (which would have actually been more beneficial to my books) I feel a little blogged out and disheartened!

Has this made me more of a novelist? Or am I more qualified as a blogger?

Guys, I'm not sure this is a foolproof marketing strategy!  Because I have done my part, but yet I don't see posters of my book on the underground, no great advertisements in newspapers and they certainly have not been distributed to any bookshops which I have not personally approached.  So I ask again, is blogging the medicine to success or merely the sugar pill offered as a means to keep us busy? 

Will I give it up?  Umm....no, because like most bloggers, I like the buzz of the possibility that to my readers I am actually somewhat a little, tiny bit famous!!

AUTHOR'S CORNER;

ME, MYSELF AND GOD KNOWS WHO!

Okay, I admit, I've been somewhat absent from the blogging scene recently!  It's been quite a ride, a terrible trial and tribulation as far as I'm concerned!  It seems like my persona has split into many mini ones and I have somehow lost my footing and fallen into the abyss of my warped mind!  In there, there are many mini Sammar Allys all vying for a reinstatement of existence!  I am - in plain English - a little lost and confused.  Normally I am lost, but quite secure in my wilderness, but recently I've been stumbling along the Yellow Brick Road of mood swings and good old fashioned insecurities, and the Wizard of Oz is nowhere to be found!

Writers by nature are fragile, insecure creatures and tend to exist in a split personality world, where one side of them is society functional and the other is an insane world of imaginary friends and scenarios (the stuff where good fiction is made) and they tinker between 'normal self' and 'indulgent self', though mainly in the privacy of their own study, from the safety of their laptop!  I have lost my grip and insanity seems to beckon, should I embrace it?  I fear the consequences.  

Okay, let me explain; normally I can hold it together, safe within the confines of my desk and away from prying eyes.  As a writer I am free to indulge in controlled madness, silly insanities, and illogical logic.  If, of course, I am left alone in order to do so without inflicting harm on society.  However, life has been hectic of late and I have been forced to interact a little more than I would like, hence my insanity has not gone unnoticed!  I find myself exposed and this my friends is not a good look for any writer!  My moods as a result, have taken on a life force of their own and I have discovered many sides to myself which I had previously convinced myself were only within my fictional characters.  It turns out that I have been writing about myself all along, only I didn't realise it! 

Normally this is me; walking around with an air of composed dignity and sophistication, that is worthy of being a writer (yeah right, who am I kidding?) admired by friends and family.  But not of late, no, you see I have not been able to write as often as I would have liked due to family matters which have taken up most of my time.  The result.... devastation!  Where my many split personalities had a place upon the screen of my word processor, without fiction, they simply manifested in a different way!

MISTY ME!

The darkness seemed to come from nowhere and my stable mind became somewhat unsettled; I found the noises in my literary head a little too loud and the itching in my keyboard clicking fingers a bit uncomfortable!





PARANOID ME!

Followed swiftly by complete and utter insecurities, which left me feeling rather paranoid and a little naked!

MAMA SAMBO

This seemed to be followed by bouts of self indulgence and gluttony which frightened my poor husband quite considerably!

FREE SPIRITED

Next came the happy hours, where life seemed not to matter and basically a 'to hell with it' attitude was adopted!






ANGRY BABE!

Swiftly and surely after the happiness came moments of total frustrations at my inability to care much about much!  readers, please note, it was not a happy time!

MAMA IS BACK!

More self indulgence.... and one very frightened husband!




HAPPY CHICK

And of course pretend happiness merged and surfaced and the kids became frightened!

DANGER GIRL

Then inevitably the violent tendencies appeared, and although mainly in my office, in front of my computer, hubby was reluctant to approach me!


CRY BABY

And then of course, came the emotional floodgates that seemed to suddenly open wide!  I was an emotional wreck.. I cried louder and harder than any baby!

I cried harder and stronger than a baby in a wet nappy!  I cried like I never cried before!




And then came...

THE MAN HATER!!!

This, I think, by far, intimidated my poor husband the most; he just couldn't be sure he was safe with me!




Pleased to say, now that I am back on my computer and happily writing, all my split personalities have retreated back onto the pages of my novel and the world is once again safe!  The moral of the story....Never take a writer away from her desk; it could be dangerous!

AUTHOR'S CORNER;

THE CURSE OF THE FOOTBALL!

'And behold, I'll put a curse on thee, for all the wrong ye have done!

For once every quarter decade, to football ye shall lose your sons!'

Well ladies, it's that time again, the time when the curse of the football comes upon us; when men are blinded to our beauty and womanly charms and fall into a trance as the football phantom's curse takes hold upon all their humanly senses and transforms them into zombies! Yes you've guessed it, it's THE WORLD CUP!!!!  It's Brazil v England, England v Spain, Spain v Argentina, Argentina v China...China???  Oh well, you know what I mean; basically it's various countries footballing against other countries accompanied by an entourage of men chanting in a primeval manner and guzzling tons of beer as they stuff kebabs and various other cholesterol busters down their unshaven necks! Charming!  Not to mention their sudden and frankly rather annoying need to expose their beer bellies for all the world to see.  One can only remember them as they once were by casually glancing over at the wedding photo, which sits in solitude upon the bookcase, and sigh in mournful pity. 

  'And though your beauty may be blooming, in his eyes you will no longer be

For once the ball starts rolling, your womanly form he shall never see!'

Your lovely attentive husband suddenly loses all interest in you and his eyes become fixated upon his flat screen t.v.  And you can't help but wonder; when did I become invisible? What seemed like an intelligent, caring husband and father has suddenly morphed into something from an eighteenth century mental asylum!  Oh husband where are you??  Your curvy figure is met with annoyance if it stands in between him and that t.v. and he snarls at you with gnashing teeth in an cannibalistic fashion as he spits kebab bits in his angry speech!  Who is this man?  And every so often you hear a sudden outburst of "GOAL!!" coming out of this mentally challenged zombie who now sits happily in your husband's favourite chair.  SCARY!!!

'And thou shalt have time to contemplate the sins of which you are accused. 

For then ye shall remember the poor soul abused!'

And ladies, boredom will set in, it will set something terrible and you will feel neglected and a little sad to say the least! And much to your surprise, your once lovely husband will not be worried, in fact he will be secretly excited by your growing frustrations and in sporting spirit it will be incorporated as part of the match!

My advice, don't challenge this behaviour; it will only encourage him in a way which is frankly quite frightening!

'Thy bed chamber will become a lonely cave of loveless woes.

And he shall sleep restful as your sorrow grows!'

This is the time of year, where although charged with testosterone, there will be none spared for you!  Yes ladies, it be a loveless period, for too much beer and junk food will take over his system and make his body heavy with toxins; in fact you will find that only his eyes and chanting voice will be working efficiently during this time!

'And though thou may show displeasure for such trespasses, it will not bode well.

For thou will only bring down upon thy head the fury of all hell!'

Yes sisters; fights will break out during these trying times and no amount of lipstick will make you look good!  A man defending his football is like a wild beast defending his patch of land; gnashing teeth and sweaty brows are never a good sign!  Keep away; that's my advice!

'And who so ever shall deny the beloved game to thy groom,

Will be met with such fate of hell fire and doom!'

Seriously, it's not worth it; they tantrum like two year old toddlers if you even hint at changing the channel!  Good luck girls and may your inner strength be with you!

AUTHOR'S CORNER;

THAT TIME OF LIFE...

Now it pains me to admit this, but admit it I simply must.  You see I am victim, as many of us are, to the delusional state of mind which makes one think that one is eternally young.  And just like a car crash, the realisation of reaching my middle years has hit me out of nowhere, leaving me quite shaken and in disbelief; it seemed like only yesterday that I was a willowy young thing with thick brown hair and chocolate eyes that would melt the hearts of a thousand sailors!  Laughter, love, life and dreamy nights have whizzed by in a haze, along with pregnancies and more nappies than I care to remember!  The whirlwind of life has swept me along nicely into my forties and I am left wondering, how did this happen?  The unmentionable middle ages? 

And why, I wonder, should life be so cruel as to only bring about retrospect when the best years of youth have flitted by?  Why only then do we look back and see clearly that we could have done a better job out of life and regret from a sorry distance the years of youthful splendour which we have squandered on idiosyncrasies and wasted opportunities.  Nothing (unless you are very lucky) has turned out how we had imagined it, and the Romeo you have hand picked and defied your parents over, turned out to be no Romeo at all, rather more like a sorry character out of Macbeth!  Your children are grown up strangers who Do Not think you are cool, and laugh at you when you recall your disco days!  The phrase 'I was once beautiful,' is met with a smirk on their behalf and heaven help you if you share with them your wilder days!  

According to your kids you are no more than this thing called mum, which is sort of a forty something entity and hardly woman at all!  And if memory permits and they do recall some earlier years, to them, it is like a fleeting image of something strict, tall and looming!  

The figure you once owned has diminished beneath a bubbling mound of excess fat and stretch marks.  In short - you can try to lose weight, but the belly and bottom are refusing to budge...size 8 seems like a dream you once dreamt!

Morning sun is no longer flattering upon your skin, and heaven help the postman if he should call before you have had your fifth cup of coffee!

Not to mention the sudden imbalance of hormones which lead to mood swings, hot flushes, nervous disposition and a sudden tendency for insanity!

Romantic talk with your Romeo is futile; you may think you've still got it, but don't forget, he's got eyes!

And your well meaning attempts at romance will be met with tactful avoidance and clever game playing!

 

                                                   


love will feel somewhat jaded and a little suspicious....

Marital bliss will start to take on the form of world war two, and before you know it military strategy will commence!

Let the battle commence....

Give it up...you are no longer a pretty young thing! face your demons.

Let's not kid ourselves....just make a brew, phone a friend and give into middle age, it makes life easier!

AUTHOR'S CORNER;

HELP, I THINK I'M SINKING!!

Now I'm not one to complain, and I know I've been away for quite some time, not my fault dear reader, life has been somewhat hectic!  It started on my birthday, and spiralled out of control.  Needless to say it has not been a picnic, and for those of you who are familiar with my blog would already be aware that I have been otherwise distracted by the sudden stroke that struck my poor father.  He is better now, and soon to be back home where he belongs.  I have learned many things during those last three months, and have surprised myself at how resilient I really am.  I have also been pleasantly and horridly surprised to learn that my kids can cope just fine without my constant presence in the house; they are after all young adults and teens.  So what's my beef? It is simply a falling off the step, so to speak, a losing of one's footing, a distant memory of something and nothing and a loss of direction!  I have emerged from three months of distraction and worry only to find that I have somehow forgotten how to be a writer!

Don't get me wrong, of course I can still write, of course I have what it takes - just.  But having dropped a novel midway to rush to my family's aide, I have somehow lost the thread of writing and am in a permanent state of writer's block. Perhaps it is sheer exhaustion that is making me feel this way, or second thoughts brought on by the sobering distance away from my desk and that panoramic view that has shed some light upon my delusional bubble state of contented writer's mind.  But for whatever reason, (or revelation) I seem to be unable to trust in the fact that I am a writer.  

And try as I might, I can't seem to pick up where I left off from.  My mind is fuzzy and my thoughts are talking at me at the speed of light! Though I don't have much spare time, the spare time I have is clouded with absolute dread and anxiety when I approach my desk.

I can't seem to reconnect with my characters, for they seem to not to want or need me any more!  And they have made an enemy out of me, or have I made an enemy out of them?



Where as before I was sure in my conviction as a writer and determined to make it big, I am not so sure about much! Perhaps it is guilt that is blocking me or despair or life has finally caught up with my subconscious; reality is not a free space of time in which we can simply indulge!  

I am simply in writer's hell! self doubt gnashing away at my heels and running is not an option!

I have a strange feeling of losing the grip, and the plot! As I wonder when my identity might be restored!

Perhaps I over estimated the size of my pedal stool; because I seem to be falling out of writer's circle and into a deep no can write abyss!

And I ask myself, could the angel of death have come for my pen?  Will I ever recapture my spark and write again?  Or will my fire be forever extinguished?



Maybe, perhaps, possibly, just possibly... I might be experiencing life and nothing more; once the experience has sunk in and I sober up from the shock of almost losing a parent, perhaps then I may write again, and write in a better way...I hope.  Perhaps every writer needs to stop occasionally and take a breath whilst life's lessons swoop over them and teach them something new; another prospective, a different angle, a new point of view with a new pair of eyes.  Perhaps fear is what propels us to fight our way through problems; fear of losing life, fear of losing love and fear of losing the talent that has defined us for most of our lives.  

Perhaps my characters in my novel needed me to stop for a while, perhaps they might re-emerge in a more knowledgeable manner, in better formed characters, in a more capable set of people....perhaps I am merely growing and a flower can never bloom until it is properly watered.