I'm starting a daily blog written exclusively to help business leaders and owners learn more about marketing and public relations tips to grow business.
Q: Do you know what your media kit should contain?
A: A press release
That sound basic enough. Yet many professionals don't know what should be in a media kit. A press release is the most obvious answer, but not everyone knows what a media kit is or what it's for much less what it should contain. A press release is written to give your service, product or business exposure to the media. What does the media want to see? Most media is for entertainment or news. Whether it's broadcast, print or online, every press release should have a "news hook" and the news hook should relate to the headlines of the day or be relevant to something going on in the world.
For more information, contact us at 916-300-8012 or send email to info@3LPublishing.com.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Friday, September 25, 2015
We're All Dead: Introduction
Introduction
Why We’re All Dead
I
am the last free man on Earth. I think. In vampire terms, though, I am a
free-range human.
Actually,
maybe I am being slightly melodramatic. I saw the second-to-the last woman on
Earth about three weeks ago when I was wondering the Apocalyptic Highway to
Hell. She looked awful and complained about the blisters on her feet. No sooner
did I meet her in her all tired and dirty, that night a vamp flew in out the
darkness and scooped her up. I have no idea where the dude took her. These
stinking vamps and their flying talents – they’re like those nasty spider
monkeys and swoop in and grab you to carry you off to suck on you for weeks.
They do feed you, though, to keep you alive so that’s pretty good. Some people
kind of like it and become super happy companions with their dead masters. I’ve
even heard of some vamps marrying their human food source, and everyone is all
fat and happy about it, throwing god damned valuable rice at the freaks. I for
one will never give into the vamps. So, I am the last free human on Earth.
Now
I’m walking through this dust bowl with fine, dry dust blowing everywhere
across the barren Midwest wasteland since the damned zombies killed all the Midwesterners
when the tried to nuke the corn fields in Iowa. Yeah, apparently the zombies
and vamps got into a dispute over the human food supply. The vamps need humans
for food. The zombies need humans for procreation and to dominate the species.
Fucking stupid zombies thought it would be cool if they nuked the cornfield and
cut off humans from their food supply. Some dumbass named General Wilhelm
something or another didn’t think it all through, though.
He
was such an idiot (rotting brain kills cells) that he only thought the vamps
wouldn’t have food, forgetting that he might decimate so many numbers of them
that he wouldn’t get what he wanted either – to create more zombies. Then the
vamps got all “pissy” and decided to defy Wilhelm and start a human baby farm
and create their own food supply. Problem is they forgot these are human beings
with free will. Some humans rebelled and started making war on both the zombies
and vamps. And well, here I am – all alone in a barren wasteland the only free
man around. The other people got eaten, enslaved or committed suicide. They didn’t
want to be a zombie or vamp. So they just killed themselves. You know heaven
has to be better than this hell.
I
was born and raised on one of those baby farms too. The first three years of my
life, my “blood” mom sucked on me by night and my real mother nursed me by day.
As I grew older, I never was comfortable being a slave to death. My vamp mom
old Granola (the vamps have really weird names) decided I should be married off
to some vamp girl named Tamberlyn, who was this violent bitch who liked to beat
her prey, fuck and then read old vampire books like Twilight and lament about how none of the boy vampires were half as
cute as Edward Cullen.
Well
one day after a particularly brutal beating, I thought, “Fuck this. I’m
leaving.” When I declared my intentions to Tamberlyn, she didn’t believe me.
She barely looked up from her Eclipse
book. So I just left the compound. It was that easy. I did hear them sound an
alarm but by then I was safely ensconced in my first of many hiding places
under a big rock.
It’s
not a pretty story – and now hear I am wandering the world, the last free man
that I know of.
Here’s the deal too.
I have to hide at night or those fucking vampires will scoop me up too and suck
on me like a god damned Capri pouch. Then I have to escape from them, again,
when they retire for the day. What a pain in my neck. Sometimes one of them
will get all lovey-dovey over my sexy-back and want to keep me, you know, for
like a slave too. Well, I’ve gotten real good at escaping when the sun rises.
So far, no one has
tried to ship my tired ass back to the human freak farm, though, so that’s a
relief. Unfortunately, vampires are strange breed of supernatural creatures. A
lot of them are super flamboyant and like to act some gay Dracula-queen.
They’re pretty omini-sexual too, and I’m not gay. So I don’t appreciate the
bloodsuckers that think that part of the package means I’m going to have sex
with them. One blood-lover once
caught me and tried to give me a little “rear entry,” which turned out to be a
blessing. The minute he tried to flip me on my back, I grabbed the leg of a
nearby chair, pushed him off me, broke off the leg, and managed to stake his
ass. Yeah! Take that you blood-sucking freak!
Staking in the
heart is but one of several ways to kill a vamp. Some of the myths are true
except for a few – that thing about silver actually turned out to be you had to
have this element called Rhenium. Rhenium is a silvery metal but rarely seen as such on account of its
high melting point, which is the third highest after carbon and tungsten.
Rhenium is very hard; it resists corrosion but slowly tarnishes in moist air. See
the vamps spread that myth about common silver killing back in the 21st
century with that campy vamp show True
Blood. A bunch of “fans” called “Truebies” bought that all right, and when
the vamps really did rise from the grave some years later and there was none of
that so-called “blood substitute” really invented, well, the vamps were all
happy campers when humans tried to “silver” them. They just cracked up and
chuckled amongst themselves – and then ate their lunches. My people used to
watch too much television. Although I caught some reruns on Blu-Ray once, and I
really liked that Sookie Stackhouse chick and her vamp lover, Eric. Yeah, they
were hot. I just don’t see it with the vamp sex shit. On the show it looks all
sexy-fied and bloody great, and honestly let’s be truthful. Have you ever been
bitten by something with fangs? Just asking, because it fucking hurts. I don’t
see how that’s a turn-on unless you’re one of those S&M folks who thinks
pain and pleasure are the feel-good approach to getting it on.
So back to the whole Rhenium as a bloodsucker killer … let me tell
you, it isn’t easy finding Rhenium at your common hardware store. So outside of
staking with wood to the heart, it sometimes hard t find inventive ways to kill
the mo-fo’s. You can rip their heads off, but I’m not strong enough to give
them a quick head ripping so there you go. I have to stake them or just escape.
You know what, though, I don’t like
getting sucked on, so I try to hide. Sometimes it’s really hard to find a cave
or dark place in the shadows to hide from them. They like to come all hours of
the night so I can’t light a fire or it will attract those fools. It gets
really cold out here in the wasteland, which is fucking unpleasant. Oh, and
fire doesn’t kill them either. Those fucks do heal really easily just like the
legend suggests. It has to be a stake or go on a needle hunt for the damned
Rhenium. I do have some spare stakes in my backpack so screw Rhenium.
So
now I wander by day, looking for water and foraging for food. I managed to get
some frees can of Chef Boyardee beef ravioli in my backpack for tonight. I
found an old 7 Eleven super store where they had a mega Zom-Slurpee bar – and
it was miraculously being run by zombies who intended to infect me. These zombies
were so fucking dumb that when I walked in covered in dirt I was able to
convince them I was a new zombie. They just all shook my hand and welcomed me
into the fold. Fucking idiots! They’re all pretty stupid; it’s just degrees of
stupidity. These two morons asked me if I wanted anything as a “gift” since I
was newly turned. They didn’t happen to notice I wasn’t rotting in the least.
I
took a bunch of canned goods and even stopped and had a Coke Slurpee. They
offered to top it with a pituitary gland for a “special ‘cheery’ on top,” but I
declined and said I had heartburn from the rancid pancreatic pizza I ate for
lunch. They bought that line of shit all right. They just nodded and gave me
the canned goods unquestioningly, patted me on the back, and sent me on my way.
Dumb mother-fuckers! I can sort of respect the flamboyant vamps – at least
they’re not so sub-IQ; but the putrid zombies. I will never like them. They’re
too retarded to tolerate; but it does mean I can get free food pretty easily.
Well,
a few weeks ago, I decided to get off the Highway to Apocalyptic Hell and head
for sunny California (it’s warmer in California than, say, Wisconsin in winter
and I always migrate back and forth). It took me a while to get there. I did
manage to hitch a ride on the back of a zombie scooter with another stupid
idiot who just thought I was a fledging zombie. He had me on the back of the
scooter clear across Utah, Colorado and Nevada till we stopped one day. He gave
me his “stink” eye and asked why I didn’t smell putrid yet. I told him I was
using Irish Spring soap and showed him a green bar as proof. He got real
suspicious though and tried to bite me. But he was one of those super
deteriorated versions so I manage to rip off his arms. He cursed in some German
or something, and I just ran away.
So
tonight on my latest search for cover, I found this strange opening to a cave
that actually had a door fashioned to it. I was in what on maps says is the
Sierra Mountain foothills in what used to be. I had just wondered down out of
the mountains and noticed this trail into the woods. I figured it might lead
somewhere safe and discovered this door. So I slowly opened it, peered around
for any vamps using it for a resting place, and noticed it looked abandoned and
probably pretty safe. Cobwebs and dust were all over what seemed to be like
some office or something. Old desks and chairs were strewn about. It smelled
old, damp and musty. I also noticed something that resembled an old Apple
printer and a Mac. A bunch of eBook readers were strewn about too.
“What
is the fuck is this place?” I said aloud.
Then
I noticed something interesting. A file cabinet had been pushed over and the
drawers were hanging open. I walked over, rolled it upright, and then opened
the drawer all the way. It was all bent up, and I had to yank it off the
tracks. It had a crushed lock on it that had been jammed with something like a
screwdriver. Inside, I saw four perfect-bound books. The first one read Colonel
Bapista; the second one read General Wilhelm; the third one read Cookie
Gingerbreadhouse; and the fourth one read just Bob.
“Hmm
… this is damned interesting,” I said aloud. I recognized those names from back in the day. Old oral stories
told of the last grand stand in Iowa and how these four were involved. Now I’m
kind of intrigued and want to know what are these books. I grabbed the books,
and scanned them. They all read like journals. On first glance, they seem to
each be telling similar part of stories.
“How
strange,” I thought.
I
moved over to an old executive chair and took a seat. I opened my pack, pulled
out a can of ravioli, grabbed my spoon to eat, and started reading back and
forth. This could be real entertaining!
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
We're All Dead: Preface
Preface
It’s the year 3010 and the great Apocalypse of Death is nearing the end. After 50 years of death, war and destruction, the zombies, vampires and humans are about to take their last stand. What is at stake – the survival of the human race.
Zombies and vampires have brought the human race to the verge of extinction. Now only a small population of humans have survived, which has created a great famine for vampires. The head of the vampires Colonel Baptista has declared all zombies must be annihilated. His rival necromancer General Wilhelm, though, has a secret weapon – one that is sure to kill all of the remaining
humans, and therefore, eliminate the food source of the vampires and destroy their race as well.
And then zombies will rule the world.
It’s the year 3010 and the great Apocalypse of Death is nearing the end. After 50 years of death, war and destruction, the zombies, vampires and humans are about to take their last stand. What is at stake – the survival of the human race.
Zombies and vampires have brought the human race to the verge of extinction. Now only a small population of humans have survived, which has created a great famine for vampires. The head of the vampires Colonel Baptista has declared all zombies must be annihilated. His rival necromancer General Wilhelm, though, has a secret weapon – one that is sure to kill all of the remaining
humans, and therefore, eliminate the food source of the vampires and destroy their race as well.
And then zombies will rule the world.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
3L Publishing Featured Author: Norma Jennings, Passenger from Greece
Why did you write Passenger from Greece?
In a Huffington Post article, I once read about the rising tide of drug cartels in developed countries that use certain Caribbean islands as conduits for the movement of illegal drugs into the United States. The article cited Puerto Rico, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic as primary targets, with the Dominican Republic being responsible for 6% of illegal drugs coming to the U.S. My home is Jamaica, and I'm a former flight attendant, so I began to think about how I could bring this international and social dilemma into the spotlight, and also draw readers in with a captivating story.
Your cover is gorgeous. What made you select that image to be illustrated?
I'd been awe-struck by the beauty of the Greek countryside, and there are shocking facts about the tenacity of the Greek drug cartel, so I decided to use Greece as the developed country in my storyline. My main character, Olivia Reid, is portrayed as an international flight attendant from Jamaica. While deciding what to do about my book cover, I reached out to my friend, Dr. Talib Aleem, whose passion for classic photography can be compared with my passion for writing (despite our demanding careers). He informed me that he was on his way to Santorini to take photos for his collection, and would allow me to choose from shots taken there. He returned with the stunning photo I chose as Passenger from Greece's gorgeous cover.
What is your favorite part of the book?
My favorite part of the book is chapter 17, where the two main characters, a Greek and a Jamaican, finally become lovers after weeks of delicious fantasies about each other. In this chapter, I was able to write about beauty, innocence, love, lust, and turmoil, all rolled into one.
Who is your favorite character?
Olivia, the main character, is my favorite. Her innocence, integrity, self-centered behaviors, and foolish spontaneous decisions leave readers shaking their heads while questioning the emotions that make them love, as well as dislike her.
This book was your second. How was writing your sophomore book compared to Daughter of the Caribbean?
While writing Passenger from Greece, I was much more aware of the likes and dislikes of American and international audiences, and how successful novels are configured to capture and hold the audience. My first novel, Daughter of the Caribbean, came from my heart and soul. With Passenger from Greece, I put heart, soul and the wisdom of a more seasoned writer into the work, and I reveled in writing some sizzling erotic moments. Then I sent the manuscript to a reputable critique professional, who gladly landed a few blows to my ego. So I stepped back, recovered my resolve, did the rewrites, and just kept going. After all, writing is my passion.
You tend to write about family and relationships. Why do you focus on those topics?
Family and relationships are the fuel that shape our characters and drive us to make decisions, whether wise or foolish. Having been born and raised in the Caribbean, certain standards dictated that you should love your family unconditionally, show strength under fire, trust until you're given reasons not to, be thankful for what you have because there is so much hunger in the world, and never let anyone see you sweat.
What is the strangest thing you've ever done you're willing to reveal to the world?
Marrying a dentist despite a powerful fear of the dentist's chair. It must have been the fact that my ex could put needles to your gum, and you didn't even feel a prick. We're no longer married, but he's the best dentist I've ever had. Where did my fear come from? In the islands, dentists would visit our elementary schools annually. They would strap you into a chair; have you bite down on a cotton ball soaked in nova cane, then pull your tooth if you had a cavity. After the first such experience, I would hide in the bushes of my grandmother's Twickenham until the dentist had left the premises.
Who is your favorite author and why?
British writer Daphne DuMaurier is my favorite author. She had a remarkable way of describing sceneries and behaviors so succinctly, you were right there with her on the page enjoying, hating, or being terrified by the journey.
Would you rather eat on patio or inside at a restaurant?
For me, there's no experience better than having a meal on the patio of my condo on the hillside of Ocho Rios, Jamaica, while watching the cruise ships dock on the turquoise Caribbean Sea, as tropical birds sing melodies in the trees of the limestone forest behind me. I use this condo as my writing studio and get-away, and it is available for rental to tourists and other writers or artists.
If you compared yourself to a great hero in life or fiction, who would it be?
My father is my greatest hero. He was exotic, adventurous, kind, flawed, intelligent, beautiful, and he loved unconditionally. It's always an honor for me to be told 'you're just like your father.'
In a Huffington Post article, I once read about the rising tide of drug cartels in developed countries that use certain Caribbean islands as conduits for the movement of illegal drugs into the United States. The article cited Puerto Rico, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic as primary targets, with the Dominican Republic being responsible for 6% of illegal drugs coming to the U.S. My home is Jamaica, and I'm a former flight attendant, so I began to think about how I could bring this international and social dilemma into the spotlight, and also draw readers in with a captivating story.
Your cover is gorgeous. What made you select that image to be illustrated?
I'd been awe-struck by the beauty of the Greek countryside, and there are shocking facts about the tenacity of the Greek drug cartel, so I decided to use Greece as the developed country in my storyline. My main character, Olivia Reid, is portrayed as an international flight attendant from Jamaica. While deciding what to do about my book cover, I reached out to my friend, Dr. Talib Aleem, whose passion for classic photography can be compared with my passion for writing (despite our demanding careers). He informed me that he was on his way to Santorini to take photos for his collection, and would allow me to choose from shots taken there. He returned with the stunning photo I chose as Passenger from Greece's gorgeous cover.
What is your favorite part of the book?
My favorite part of the book is chapter 17, where the two main characters, a Greek and a Jamaican, finally become lovers after weeks of delicious fantasies about each other. In this chapter, I was able to write about beauty, innocence, love, lust, and turmoil, all rolled into one.
Who is your favorite character?
Olivia, the main character, is my favorite. Her innocence, integrity, self-centered behaviors, and foolish spontaneous decisions leave readers shaking their heads while questioning the emotions that make them love, as well as dislike her.
This book was your second. How was writing your sophomore book compared to Daughter of the Caribbean?
While writing Passenger from Greece, I was much more aware of the likes and dislikes of American and international audiences, and how successful novels are configured to capture and hold the audience. My first novel, Daughter of the Caribbean, came from my heart and soul. With Passenger from Greece, I put heart, soul and the wisdom of a more seasoned writer into the work, and I reveled in writing some sizzling erotic moments. Then I sent the manuscript to a reputable critique professional, who gladly landed a few blows to my ego. So I stepped back, recovered my resolve, did the rewrites, and just kept going. After all, writing is my passion.
You tend to write about family and relationships. Why do you focus on those topics?
Family and relationships are the fuel that shape our characters and drive us to make decisions, whether wise or foolish. Having been born and raised in the Caribbean, certain standards dictated that you should love your family unconditionally, show strength under fire, trust until you're given reasons not to, be thankful for what you have because there is so much hunger in the world, and never let anyone see you sweat.
What is the strangest thing you've ever done you're willing to reveal to the world?
Marrying a dentist despite a powerful fear of the dentist's chair. It must have been the fact that my ex could put needles to your gum, and you didn't even feel a prick. We're no longer married, but he's the best dentist I've ever had. Where did my fear come from? In the islands, dentists would visit our elementary schools annually. They would strap you into a chair; have you bite down on a cotton ball soaked in nova cane, then pull your tooth if you had a cavity. After the first such experience, I would hide in the bushes of my grandmother's Twickenham until the dentist had left the premises.
Who is your favorite author and why?
British writer Daphne DuMaurier is my favorite author. She had a remarkable way of describing sceneries and behaviors so succinctly, you were right there with her on the page enjoying, hating, or being terrified by the journey.
Would you rather eat on patio or inside at a restaurant?
For me, there's no experience better than having a meal on the patio of my condo on the hillside of Ocho Rios, Jamaica, while watching the cruise ships dock on the turquoise Caribbean Sea, as tropical birds sing melodies in the trees of the limestone forest behind me. I use this condo as my writing studio and get-away, and it is available for rental to tourists and other writers or artists.
If you compared yourself to a great hero in life or fiction, who would it be?
My father is my greatest hero. He was exotic, adventurous, kind, flawed, intelligent, beautiful, and he loved unconditionally. It's always an honor for me to be told 'you're just like your father.'
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Programs to Make Your Book a Best Seller
This is Michelle Gamble, CEO, 3L Publishing. I wanted to personally let you know that we have some affordable new programs for writers to promote their books. You can find out more about 3L Publishing and my background as a PR expert on our website at www.3LPublishing.com. Please feel free to email me at info@3LPublishing.com.
Bronze Package - $499.99
1. Media Kit (press release, about the book, book spec sheet, FAQ, sample chapter)
2. 1 Page Pitch Letter
3. Links to Book Reviewer Lists
Silver Package - $799.99
1. Media Kit
2. 1 Page Pitch Letter
3. Links to Book Reviewer Lists
4. Press Release posted to our blog
5. Press Release link posted to Facebook (personal and fan page) (4700 connections) and Twitter
6. One hour of consultation on media relations and book marketing
Gold Package - $999.99
1. Media Kit
2. 1 Page Pitch Letter
3. Links to Book Reviewer Lists
4. Press Release posted to our blog
5. Press Release link posted to Facebook (personal and fan page) (4700 connections) and Twitter
6. Featured Author Interview (Newsletter (800 Readers, 4 issues), Blog and Website homepage
7. About the Book Posted on the Blog with Amazon link
8. 1 hour of consultation on media relations and book marketing
Platinum - $1999.99*
1. Media Kit
2. 1 Page Pitch Letter
4. Press Release posted to our blog
5. Press Release link posted to Facebook (personal and fan page) (4700 connections) and Twitter
6. Featured Author Interview (Newsletter (800 Readers, 4 issues), Blog and Website homepage
7. About the Book Posted on the Blog with Amazon link
8. 10 hours of Media Relations to regional and national media lists and book reviewers
*This price does not include postage and packaging materials to send to media upon request; postage and packaging billed at the end of the cycle.
We do offer payments programs for the $999.99+ values of either 2 or 3 payments.
Please let me know if you would like to participate in these programs. Our clients have been reviewed in SheKnows, France Today, Critic's Circle, Fresh Fiction, Cyrus Webbs' Conversations, Author's Show, SciFi Radio, Bloomberg, Wall Street Journal radio network, Forbes, Success Magazine, Redbook, Elle, Good Day Sacramento, Sacramento Bee, Sacramento Magazine, and so much more. We know how to get results.
Monday, September 7, 2015
What is the No. #1 Reason a Book Fails?
What is the answer to
that question?
Poor writing
Weak characters
Uninteresting story
Lack of pacing
Would you believe the
answer is “none of those things make a book fail?” Are you wondering what does make a book fail or (to
rephrase it positively) what makes it a top-seller?
The answer is
cracker-jack public relations and marketing. P.T. Barnum put it best,
“Advertising is to a genuine article what manure is to land – it largely increases
the product.” In my estimation that is a crass way of saying (in book-ease),
let people know you have a book and increase its sales.
Books aren’t the same
as selling widgets. You can advertise a widget pretty easily, and consumers
caught up in the idea or the sensation or fad will invest their dollars.
Readers though are interesting audiences to crack open. An advertisement for a
book won’t convince a reader it’s any good. Book advertising will increase
brand visibility, and that’s a marketing term we’ll reserve for another article
on the subject. Book advertising WON’T give a book CREDIBILITY – book reviews
give books credibility.
Credibility convinces
readers (especially in the era of self-publishing) that a book is good,
mediocre, or bad. Reputable book reviewers’ endorsements of a book will
increase interest and hence sales. Readers believe book reviews because
reviewers were not paid to review the book – well, most of the time not paid.
With so many
self-published books on the market, a new type of PAID book reviewer (e.g.,
Clarion) has emerged on the market. I’m not a fan of PAID reviews. When an
author presents a manuscript with one of these reviews (and as a publisher I
know the paid reviewers’ brands), red flags fly. Is this book legitimate? My
first thought, and my second thought is a great book should be able to get
reviews from credible sources.
Now let’s say the book
is great. The author stands behind it, but it’s still self-published
(professional efforts in self-publishing aren’t a problem and actually open
often-closed doors to new writers); but the author still can’t find an
audience. The author doesn’t even know how to get reviews from credible
sources. So what happens? A great book goes unread. An unread book without an
audience is literally pointless. Isn’t the idea of writing a book to get people
to read it? Now sometimes the goal is to get family and friends to read the
book – and that’s fine if it’s the actual intent behind it.
New authors who find
themselves in the disappointing positions of finding their books ranked on
Amazon in the millions (meaning no readership) may give up. They don’t even
know where to begin the promotional process. Maybe they even invested $200 in
one of those blog tours for authors and found their rankings remain stagnant.
Now what?
This news may
frustrate those with no money to invest in their books, but it’s the reality
all business people face on a daily basis (and it’s very clichĂ©): YOU HAVE TO
INVEST MONEY TO MAKE MONEY, which is the essential truth to all business
endeavors. And yes authors, the minute you put the word “author” behind your
name you are officially a businessperson (you just might not have realized it).
Whether you are
published traditionally or use self-publishing or hybrid publishing methods,
you will have to promote your book to find an audience. Some books will find an
audience easier than others. The best way to find an audience is to use
traditional public relations and marketing services. Now you can try on your
own, but unless you have the specialized education and knowledge in the area,
you will not know where to start or what the industry expects.
Public relations for
books is a specialty under a specialty. It means that while a public relations
pro can promote products or services, it’s best to find one who knows the book
and publishing world. Book media relations for national and regional media
(print, broadcast and online) requires knowledge of a massive marketplace – and
sometimes in the case of niche books, a niche within a niche.
One article cannot
possibly break down this profession into pieces to be easily digested by the
average author. After all public relations is a degree program offered in
higher education. Book public relations is also a specialty one learns in a
crash-course called “doing it” or we could call it a “process of discovery”.
What is amazing: one
well-placed professional book review can ignite sales in a big way. Two, three,
four or even five reviews can create what is called the “snowball effect” or
“momentum”. Imagine if you will the snowball picking up more and more speed and
getting bigger and bigger as it rolls downhill. When multiple reviewers praise
a book the outcome can be bigger and bigger sales – and ultimately an Amazon
book that cracks the top 10.
Are you an author? Is
your book selling? Do you even have legitimate reviews? Would you like to get
featured on national TV shows or magazines? Would you like to be reviewed by
the Critic’s Circle or Fresh Fiction or the Author’s Show? Would you love to
see a no. #1 ranking next to your book’s name on Amazon? If you’ve answered
“yes” to any of these questions, 3L Publishing can do all of those things – and
we’ve done it many times over for authors and writers.
Contact us today for
your consultation at 916-300-8012. Ask for Michelle Gamble or Scott D. Roberts
by sending an email to info@3LPublishing.com.
We are also holding a workshop titled “How to Write a Media Kit” for books. For
more information, please log onto www.3LPublishing.com.
Friday, September 4, 2015
California Girl Chronicles: Brea's Big Break - Chapter 11
11
The next day, Kale summoned me to the
office – early again. He said he wanted to talk about something important. When
I arrived, he was dressed in a button-down, light-blue, short-sleeved shirt
that matched his eyes and jeans. He looked happy to see me. We seemed to be making
progress – our relationship had mellowed into a comfortable ambiguity.
It felt so warm and nice to be around him
that I thought I would take what time I could get alone with him and enjoy it.
I also suspected he called me in early to ensure quality alone time before the staff
arrived. It seemed like Monica had made it her habit lately to interrupt us. I
didn’t know if Kale had noticed, but I sure had. I had completely avoided any
discussion that would define their relationship because I held out hope that
their intimate closeness was in my imagination. A California girl could hold
out hope anyway.
Kale walked straight over to me and hugged
me. To my utter shock, he leaned over and gave me a simple, but sweet kiss on
the lips, not the cheek. I was completely blown away by the simplicity of what
amounted to an intimate gesture. Yes, I knew our relationship had progressed
well beyond kisses, but there was a familiar tenderness to it and certainly no
seduction behind it.
“Hey,” I said as I pulled back with a
surprised look on my face.
“Let’s do something fun,” he said.
“Fun?” I asked. “Not work? Why?”
Kale sat down on the edge of his desk,
crossed his legs and shrugged. “We did a lot of things backward,” he admitted.
“I thought about it. Who was I to assume I knew who was in your life?”
I stepped forward and said, “I didn’t
exactly tell you.”
“True, sweetheart, you didn’t, but I don’t
recall asking either,” he said. “My bad.”
“Are you forgiving me?” I asked as my
heart started beating quickly.
Kale just stared at me with those strong, bottomless
eyes I loved so much. “Not sure,” he said simply. “I do want to know you,
though. I want to spend real time with you.”
I grinned and said, “Not just my body?” I
moved forward a little closer and cocked my head in a flirtatious way.
“Brea, you are the most gorgeous woman I
know. I also realize you can have any man you want when you want. Do I want
your body? That’s not even a question,” he said with a quiver of a grin. “I
could seduce you now – maybe not even regret it, but where did that get me last
time? So no, not your body … for now.”
I reached out and lightly touched his
bicep. His eyes drifted down to the touch and then back up. He stood up, which
forced me to drop my touch. “What I want is your time.”
“To do what?” I asked.
“Just time, sweetheart,” he said. “I own a
boat. We’re going out to catch fresh fish off the bow. I’m going to cook it for
your dinner,” he said and started to walk toward the door where he stopped and
waited.
“What if I said I get seasick?” I asked.
“Well, then, sweetheart, we’ll stop and
get you Dramamine,” he said in his silky voice and opened the door. “After
you.”
I hesitantly walked toward the door,
stopped right in front of him, gazed into his eyes and smiled. What I saw was
acceptance of some sort. This gesture, this quasi-date was a test of some kind
– I felt it. Was he going to forgive me? He said he was uncertain. Would he
ever forgive me? The answer was as vague as the gesture. I reached the quick
conclusion that my lesson for the week was about staying in the moment and
accepting it for what it was.
We strolled out into the hallway and ran
smack into Curtis, who looked from Kale to me and asked, “Where are you two
going?”
“Boating,” said Kale, unaffected by the
question.
“With her?” he asked as if I was not
standing there.
Kale’s eyes drifted to me and back to
Curtis. “And your point?”
Curtis raised his hand with the coffee cup
in it. “No, man; no point. Have fun.”
And as Curtis walked past me I felt his eyes
shift down on me. I could sense jealousy and a hint of anger. It made me
uncomfortable. Kale also looked from Curtis to me. We walked to the elevator
and got in it.
Kale turned to me and said, “I’ve known
him for years. Good guy. Does he bother you?”
“Um — no,” I said and deflected the truth.
“You have nothing to worry about with him.
All bark, I promise,” he said. “Because you would tell me?”
“Tell you?” I asked flatly.
Kale eyed me suspiciously and then
shrugged. “All right, sweetheart, you play it that way.”
Shit! Every time I came close to true
intimacy, something ruined it. I wasn’t sure if Kale was upset, suspicious,
frustrated or what. I saw his expression become more guarded again. I wanted to
tell him the truth, but it seemed like a reckless choice – one that would
ultimately shut down production on my first film. This industry was littered
with films that almost were – and movie shutdowns were often instigated by far
less trivial problems than a rivalry over the screenwriter. If I told Kale, he
might protect me but at what cost? Could my career afford that kind of
protection? And, with our romantic relationship still questionable, was now the
right time? Maybe Kale would tire of the sexual drama that I seemed to invite.
Later that morning, we arrived at a dock
in San Diego at the marina. We walked out on the long wooden planks that had
boats moored on each side like parked cars. The gentle breeze blew cool air and
pushed my hair back. I reached in my bag, pulled out a band and tied my hair
back off of my face. It felt good. Kale came to a sudden stop in front of me,
and I turned and looked. This was the “boat”? It was a yacht with wide-open
windows on the upper deck. I looked up and stared, and I’m sure my surprise
registered on my face.
Kale chuckled. “You weren’t expecting a
rowboat were you?”
“No,” I replied with a smile, “but I
wasn’t expecting a yacht either!”
One of the deckhands was waiting for us on
the boat. Kale reached down and helped me up on the plank between the dock and
the boat. I took his hand (it felt good) and allowed his assistance. He turned
and whispered something to the deckhand, who disappeared and reappeared a few
minutes later with a glass of water and two pills in an outstretched,
white-gloved hand.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Dramamine,” he responded.
I took the water and tossed the pills in
my mouth just as Kale turned to look at me. He had a weird expression on his
face.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He grinned. “I’ll meet you up
on deck, all right?”
He headed off to the front of the boat
with the deckhand and disappeared into a room. I looked around, spotted some
stairs just inside the main cabin and made my way up them to the upper deck. As
I emerged through the top, I saw the view of the open sea out off the stern. It
was incredible – blue and clear. The water shimmered and rippled in the midday
sun. The sea breeze blew and swirled through my hair. I heard the engine rumble
and start. I looked over the edge and saw two more deckhands undoing the ropes
and tossing them on board. I sat down in a plush, beige chair with a round
table separating it from a matching chair. Just as I looked up, a steward
appeared in front of me holding out a tray containing champagne, cheese and
fruit.
“Miss,” he said quietly.
I grabbed the champagne by the stem, took
a small plate of grapes and cheese and set both down on the small, round table
next to my seat. My phone chirped to alert me of a text. I pulled it out of my
purse and looked – it was Lance. He asked to see me later. I replied maybe and
put the phone away. I wasn’t sure what time we would return. I was worried
about Lance. He said the chemo was terrible, but he wouldn’t share much more
than that. I suddenly felt guilty being so preoccupied with my own petty concerns
when Lance was so sick. And I hadn’t been a good friend to him at all. I needed
to step up.
Kale emerged from below and came to sit
next to me. “Have you ever gone deep-sea fishing?”
“No, not really,” I said. “I fished for
trout in a river with my sister when I was little.”
“Oh, you have a sister?” he asked.
“Her name is Lulu, and she lives in
northern California. We’re not close.”
Kale nodded and smiled. “Maya loves you,”
he said frankly. “She wants us back together – tells me every morning,” he said
with a laugh.
I looked at him and leaned across the
table. “So do I,” I said and popped a grape into my mouth.
Kale leaned in closer and looked at me. “You fucked us up,” he said briskly.
I sat up straight. “Yes, I did.”
Kale looked at me. “An honest answer. Now
we’re getting somewhere.”
I looked down and then took another sip of
champagne. “In my defense, it was just … I don’t know — unexplainable. Haven’t
you done something like that before?”
Kale picked up a pair of binoculars and
started looking at something off in the distance. “Two whales,” he said and
handed the binoculars to me and pointed off to the south.
I took the binoculars and looked. Yes, two
whales. They were merely ripples under the water, but I could see their spray
from their blowholes sending up water like a fine mist in the air. I handed the
binoculars back and sipped more champagne. He wasn’t going to answer that
question.
“You don’t think I’m honest?” I suddenly
asked.
Kale, who had returned to gazing through
the binoculars, took them down from his eyes, raised an eyebrow and sort of
smirked. “Do you think you’re honest, sweetheart?”
I shifted back into my seat and looked
down at my hands. I considered that question very carefully. “I didn’t lie …
exactly.”
“That’s not what I asked you.” He looked
me right in the eyes.
“It’s not lying if I just didn’t mention
what was going on. And I never said I loved you.” As I said those words, I
could see pain cross Kale’s face. I suddenly wished I could grab the words and
shove them back in the proverbial bottle. Wrong answer.
Kale got up, grabbed his champagne and
finished it off in one full gulp. He wouldn’t look at me anymore. “I’m going
fishing. You joining me?”
I stood up and said, “I’ll watch.”
Kale and I walked down to the bottom of the
ship and to the back. A deckhand was waiting with a huge fishing rod. Kale
immediately worked to put giant-sized fish chunks on it as bait. I found my way
to a cushy bench nearby. As I sat in the warm light of day, rocking with the
soft, gentle sway of the boat, my eyes grew heavier and heavier. I thought it
was the champagne. Within minutes, I realized I could barely hold my eyes open.
Kale was busily fishing. So, I thought I would lie down on the bench and just
close them – that was the last thing I remembered.
The next thing I knew my eyes were open –
and it was sunset. Kale was standing over me in all his tallness, nudging me
awake and laughing. “Brea! Wake up. Dinner.”
“Huh,” I whispered and forced my eyes
open. “What?”
I pulled myself up, and Kale reached out
and grabbed my hand to steady me. “You all right?”
“I couldn’t keep my eyes open,” I
explained.
Kale softly laughed and looked out on the
horizon and then back. “Dramamine, sweetheart. I tried to warn you, but you
just took both pills at once.”
“Oh, what? I don’t understand,” I replied.
“It causes drowsiness,” he replied, and we
started up the staircase back to the top and the dining area.
When we got to the deck, I noticed the
table was perfectly set with every piece of silverware and glassware in its
proper place. The deckhand pulled out my chair for me. Kale sat across from me.
His cheeks were a nice shade of rosy red from being in the sun, which made his
eyes look even bluer than usual. He looked so relaxed and satisfied. He told me he caught white sea bass,
which we were having for dinner. It sounded so succulent and fresh. The
deckhand poured another glass of champagne as we spoke of the afternoon that I
had managed to miss in my sleep. Kale was deliriously happy about the
adventure. He said he saw so many whales it was unreal and even a breech. I’d
never seen a man so happy to describe a breech in my life. He said it was a
huge tail that came up vertically and than flat down with an amazing splash. He
ate his fish with contentment, and you would think he was angler of the year.
“Do you really think I’m a liar?” I asked
quietly, eating my fish.
Kale took a bite, chewed and considered
his answer. “No, I think you’re young,” he admitted.
“Immature?” I asked and dreaded the
answer.
“You’re extremely focused, talented, kind
and, of course, easy on the eyes,” he said and smiled at me. “I never once
thought you intended to hurt me.”
“I’m immature then?”
Kale’s expression softened into a sweet,
paternal look. “You’re weak. I don’t dislike that about you exactly. But you’re
also vulnerable – and that is a beautiful thing, especially here in La La
Land,” he said mockingly. “The first time we met, and I offered to put you in
the movie and you instantly declined, I knew you were well beyond anyone in
that room.”
I grabbed my champagne glass and took a
swig. I felt really bad. The subtext of this conversation was creating a pit in
my stomach. I could hear the imaginary “but” without him actually saying it.
All I wanted to do was reach across the table, clear the plates and dishes and
have fantastic out-to-sea sex; but I could see by his tender expression and the
subtext that it was not going to happen – not tonight.
“By the way, who’s Ryan?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised he knew about
Ryan.
“He texted you 10 times. I looked,” he
admitted.
I was uncomfortable. I didn’t know if I
liked his snooping on my iPhone. “I’m seeing him,” I said frankly. After all, I
was certain Kale was involved with Monica. Why would I not be seeing someone
else? We weren’t together anymore.
“I see,” he said. “And what about Johnny?
Aren’t those two friends?”
“I was never involved with Johnny,” I said
and thought at least this answer might make him happy.
“Hmm … ” he said and looked me straight in
the eyes. “Are you fucking Ryan?” he asked with this unsettling intensity.
“Yes,” I replied bluntly.
“Honesty … twice in one afternoon.
Impressive.”
“Ryan is fun. He’s not you. I would be
with you if you wanted me,” I said.
Kale looked up, set down his fork and
moved closer to me. He leaned in very close to my face so that I could smell
his scent – fish, peppermint and just Kale. It was a mixture that was not
displeasing. Nothing about Kale was disappointing. He grabbed my hand and gently
placed it on his substantial and familiar manhood and smiled.
“I never said I didn’t want you,” he
whispered.
I felt a surge of heat well up into my
thighs. I met his gaze with the same intensity, but right then he pulled away
and out of my space. I felt a jolt of shock mixed with intense lust and
longing. Kale gripped the champagne bottle chilling on ice and poured my glass
back full to the top and topped his own off. He smiled his captivating grin,
reached out with his glass to suggest cheers and took a brisk drink. I sat back
in my seat, stared at him and took my own sip. I was completely enthralled with
him.
“We’ll be back at dock by 8:00 p.m. Your
friend Lance wants you to come by at 8:30. I texted him and said I would have
you back in time.”
What? Now I was reeling in shock. I looked
down. What was he doing? Messing with me? I didn’t really know. “I’m — I’m not
sure you should have done that,” I said quietly.
Kale stiffened a bit. “I want to trust you
again.”
“But that’s my private phone,” I replied.
“Well, then I’ll try not to look at it
from now on,” he replied and looked me straight in the eyes.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” I
suddenly blurted out and admitted.
Kale sweetly smiled out of nowhere and
said, “Good.”
I kept staring at him, but he made no move
toward me. I backed down and concentrated on my food for the rest of the
evening. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
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