I'm proud and delighted to announce my first promotional Book Tour. Today, my novel America's Darlings begins a two-week-long grand tour of book review sites, reader blogs, and other internet destinations. Bon Voyage, my Darlings!
Want a chance to win a fantastic America's Darlings-themed prize, chosen by yours truly? Please visit the following link to see the very cool things I've selected, and to sign up for the giveaway. Oh, and to join the tour!
Introducing: The Arvey-Francis Classical Guitar Duo
As many of you know, for more than four years I've been playing in a classical guitar duo with my great friend Mark Francis. It's been wonderful. I've loved every moment of it.
Our first gig - a lovely event in a beautiful island setting
Our goals from the beginning have been to:
Enjoy ourselves
Enjoy the music
Play to the best of our ability
Take lessons towards that goal - individually and as a duo (mostly as a duo)
Not rush to play pieces in public that "aren't quite ready yet"
Get out into the world and play for other people - open mics, recitals, masterclasses, etc.
Record pieces once they're deemed ready by our teacher - who has a very high standard
Put our recordings (live videos) on YouTube
And...make a CD eventually!
I'm proud to say we've followed the path we set out for ourselves. Mark and I have been committed to our music and kept our duo going strong even when life tried to get into the way. We've encouraged each other to go further than we ever thought we could - and we have the YouTube videos to remind us what hard work can achieve. It's taken a while, but we've attained every one of our goals except for the last: making a CD.
And that goal is closing in fast! One more recording - one more! - and we'll have enough to make our first CD. The time has now come to pull it all together - we have that last piece: the final movement of a delightful Vivaldi concerto. All we have to do is get a good recording of it.
In The Studio
Three days ago, on a windy, rainy Wednesday evening, Mark and I drove to West Seattle to work on doing just that. Kevin Callahan, our teacher, is a gifted mentor and it's safe to say that the Arvey-Francis Duo would never have gotten where we are without him.
Kevin Callahan with his beloved late kitty, Pounder
Kevin is multi-talented: he is a composer and a software coder as well as a guitar teacher. He also has a great studio. This is where Mark and I headed, hoping we'd come out with a good recording.
It doesn't always happen. It's very hard. The week before, Mark and I had tried to get a live recording: we played the Vivaldi piece over and over and over - but something always went wrong. Twenty-one times something went wrong...twenty-one takes! By the end, we'd exhausted ourselves and just couldn't get it together. So we went back again to West Seattle the next week to give it another go.
Mark and I let ourselves in to Kevin's outer studio, the small room we call the "ante-chamber". We took out our guitars to let them acclimatize to the inside temperature, and began to warm our fingers - which is my way of saying that the Vivaldi piece (concerto for two Mandolins 532) goes at LIGHTENING SPEED and there is no way of playing those bursts of triplets if your fingers aren't at tip-top condition. We ran through the Vivaldi piece several times. After a while, Kevin ushered us into the studio proper.
We sat down in front of a dark cloth. Kevin rolled the camera into position front of us. He turned on the flood lights. And the microphones. He shifted my seat to the right. He adjusted the microphones. And did it again. Then something happened.
"Oh oh," Kevin said.
Mark and I looked at each other. Oh-oh didn't sound good, not at all.
Kevin frowned and poked at something on his computer keyboard. "Hmmm. This isn't right. It's the ______(fill in the blank) on the ______, and it's not doing _____like it should. I'll have to do a work-around with a______and if that doesn't work, I'll try again with the other ______. Damn it all!"
Obviously, I'm not terribly computer literate.
Mark and I waited as Kevin fiddled with the recording stuff. I tried to keep my fingers supple as Kevin downloaded a patch (or something) to repair the sound card (or something).
Keeping our fingers supple in the studio
Finally, the faulty programs were repaired. Kevin adjusted the microphones one last time and did several sound checks. He sat down at his console and nodded. Mark and I held our guitars up at the ready and took deep breaths. Kevin raised his right hand - his signal to start playing.
We did. We played six whole measures. Then we came to a screeching halt.
"Sorry about that," I said. "My finger missed the note."
"That's okay," said Mark.
"Start over," said Kevin.
We did. We started over. Over and over and over. Nothing new there. Each time we'd get partway through, make a mistake, then have to give up. In a live video recording such as this, there is no going back later and "fixing" bad notes. What you play is what you get. With every mistake, we had to go back to the beginning and try again. We'd shrug our mistakes off - or try to - and start over with a fresh start, doing our best each time to capture the energy and life that Vivaldi requires.
Good thing we'd stopped at our favorite cafe, the C&P in West Seattle, for tall full-caffeine mochas right before our session, even though it was 7:30 at night. We needed all the help we could get.
Recording - you can see the miniature Arvey-Francis Duo on the camera screen.
And Finally - Success!
Mark and I played our hearts out. It was take number eleven, and this time we got further...and further...and further into the piece without mishaps. I fairly stopped breathing, it was intense. Would we get all the way to the second-to-last measure, and then screw it up? Would we get through the difficult passage near the end? Would I remember to breathe?
With a slightly-too-enthusiastic final chord, we played the Vivaldi all the way through! We'd done it. We were ecstatic. Speaking for myself, at least. All you have to do is look at the grin on my face at the end of the video to know how pleased and relieved we were to have achieved it.
The YouTube Video
Vivaldi Mandolin Concerto, movement 3, arranged by Mark Francis
Our next project: to gather all our recordings, tweak them so that they sound great as a set (with Kevin's help), and make them into a CD. We hope to have it ready for the Holidays.
An apology to Kevin: I know I have the recording scene terminology all wrong. Forgive me?
A bonus: The C&P is the world's greatest coffee shop, in a wonderful old house in West Seattle. If you're ever in the area, stop in and say "hi" to the owner, Pete. Tell him the Arvey-Francis Duo sent you! http://www.candpcoffee.com/
A final note: you may have noticed Mark and I are wearing different clothes in the pictures than we are in the video. That's because I took the pictures on the week we didn't manage to get a recording. Bummer!
As always - thank you for reading my blog. I hope you enjoy the music! If you would like more, here is our duo website: http://www.arveyfrancis.com/
“Jonah’s cool hand rests on the small of Vanessa’s
naked back. His fingers trace the long lines of her spine, languorously,
gently, making her gasp, making her own fingers curl in anticipation…”
I stop typing. I lift my hands from my laptop keyboard, squinting,
re-reading the lines I’ve just written. I am in a coffee shop in the lobby of a large hospital, doing what I love best while I wait for a friend’s appointment
to be over. I shift in my seat, tearing myself from my story – my erotic, soon
to be very explicit story.
A child has caught my attention. She’s two, perhaps three years
old. She’s got a hundred tiny braids all over her head. She’s wearing a yellow
dress and orange tights with fat pumpkins on them, and pink rubber boots. She’s
currently dashing in wild circles around a chair she’s dragged between tables.
She’s adorable.
“TaVette!” hollers a gray-haired woman. Her grandmother, I assume.
“You’re bothering the lady! Stop it!”
“No, no,” I protest, waving my hands and smiling, “she’s fine. Let
her be.”
I take up my stub of a pencil and write in my notebook: TaVette? Tahvet? Tavitt? Eyeing the
still-spinning child, I force myself back to my story, thinking: she’s not paying a whit of attention to what
you’re doing. Don’t be silly! Stop thinking everyone is watching you! Make
those characters DO THE WHOOPIE!
I take a sip of my Starbuck’s Mocha. This particular coffee shop, where a never-ending human drama passes by the
too-small tables, can be rather challenging. I’m used to it. I kind of like it, even. Writing in this
location is a nice change of routine. But sometimes – like right now – it’s
hard to write erotica. Damn hard.
I put my hands back to the keyboard. I pull myself back to my characters,
who are about to get some. It takes
several deep breaths, but I’m soon back in a world where the getting some is beautiful, breathtaking,
perfect. Better than real life. That’s what I do. I’m an erotica writer. I
intend to deliver. Oh, yes. I know
exactly what’s coming next. All I have to do is write it.
“Turn over, Vanessa,” Jonah says, his
voice so thick, so quiet she barely hears it. Vanessa turns over, then gazes up
at him. Funny how the mattress seems to have expanded. She swears it’s doubled
in size, while the rest of the world has shrunk in on her and her new love, on
the passion brewing between them. A tremble passes through her as he puts his
mouth to her breast –”
I’m abruptly torn from my love scene.
“Mama!” shrieks the little girl. “Mama!” Streaking by my wobbly little table, TaVette throws her arms
around the legs of a heavily pregnant woman. “Let me see! Let me see! I want to
see the baby picture!”
My concentration broken – and dang it, it’s at the very moment
Vanessa’s love scene is heating up nicely – I watch TaVette’s mother pull a
fuzzy ultrasound picture from a mustard-yellow envelope. She shows it to the
child, and then the grandmother. I hear their laughter, their joyous voices.
How nice for them, I think, what a sweet moment. Maybe I can use it in a story sometime. Now – back
to work. Do it!
I take a deep breath. Put my fingers to the keyboard. Picture
Vanessa and Jonah in their bed. Imagine what they’re doing to each other. I
begin to type again.
“…his hand slides up her
thigh. It lingers. His lips, his tongue, the bristles of his beard, what they
do to her! How they make her back arch! How they make her skin sing! His
fingers begin a slow walk over her trembling skin. His weight presses the
length of her body. She can’t help but gasp as he –”
“What are you doing, Lady?”
It’s the little girl.
Horrified, I slam the cover of my laptop closed. “Um, I’m
writing.”
“TaVette! Always poking your nose where it doesn’t belong!” The
mother ushers the child away by a thin shoulder. “Sorry!” she calls over her
shoulder. Child, mother, grandmother and ultrasound disappear through the
lobby’s glass doors.
I let out a long sigh.
They’re gone now, but I can’t write any more. The spell is broken.
Vanessa and Jonah will have to wait until my next writing session to consummate
their love, poor things. This time, it was a hyper-active little girl that did
them in. Last time, it was a young Asian man, his handsome face wracked with
despair, an obvious new quadriplegic. The time before, it was a chatty group of
physicians sitting one table over, discussing their chief of staff. Who will it
be next time?
I slurp the dregs from my mocha, thinking. Writing in such a place
must affect my writing. It has to, doesn’t it? I pack my laptop, turn off the
mouse, wipe the table, throw away my cup and napkin, still contemplating the
little scene I’d just been part of. These hospital lobby dramas are life. The good parts of life, the bad
parts – all of it. The scary, the horrific, the wonderful. People loving one
another. People helping one another through difficult times. People celebrating
a new pregnancy. These things affect me,
surely they must affect my writing.
So I’ll be back. For I – the erotica writer – am part of the hospital
lobby too.
First, a lip-smacking recipe: Dutch Babies! In my family, we've made these delectable pancakes for special occasions for as long as I can remember, birthdays and holidays and sometimes just to brighten a person's day. Dutch Babies never fail to impress with their unique fluffy texture and their extravagant, over-the-top looks. But never fear! Although these Dutch Babies look like they'd keep you from eating for a week or two, they're surprisingly light - I always fill the oven and make one per person. There's never any left over.
Dutch Babies, hot from the oven. Serve with lemons, butter, and powdered sugar.
Dutch
Babies
(One recipe
per person, one recipe per pan)
2 Tablespoons butter or margarine
3 Eggs
½ Cup flour
½ Cup milk
¼ Teaspoon salt
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place the butter in a
ten-inch pie pan, then place the pan in heated oven for five minutes, until butter melts.
Place two or three pie pans in the oven on the middle
shelf, or how many fit at a time.
Meanwhile, for the batter, in a medium bowl (one bowl per recipe) use a wire
whisk to beat the eggs until combined.
Add flour, milk, and salt; beat until mixture is smooth. Immediately pour batter into the hot
skillet. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or
until puffed and well browned.
Slide whole Dutch Babies onto plates. Serve with lemon
wedges, butter, and powdered sugar.
* * * * * * * * *
Second, I've completed the crocheted-and-leather purse. Two months and thousands of stitches later, not to mention several missteps and an infusion of free leather (none of which went into this particular purse) ... it's hereby done!
Side One
Side Two
Writing and more ...
In other news, I have come up with an idea for my next novel. After brainstorming (with daughter Sarah's amazingly spot-on input) I've decided upon a plot framework for - gasp! - A THREE-BOOK SERIES! Taking a clue from the marvelous J.K. Rowlings, I sat down and plotted each book (for me) in painstaking detail, covering character traits and plot arcs and subplots and world-building. Whew. A lot of work goes into this stuff!
I then wrote up said plots in proposal form for my editor at Ellora's Cave. Now, a day later, I'm sitting on my thumbs, waiting for her go-ahead which may not come for a couple of weeks. It remains to be seen if the go-ahead I'm hoping for is more like a go-back-to-the-drawing-table...
Hey - I almost forgot - the first pass of edits for Inn on the Edge are on their way from my editor! I should be seeing them early next week. The book is one step closer to publication, and I am thrilled. It's my favorite novel so far, although, like a parent, I'm probably not supposed to say such a thing.
But it's true!
One more thing. On Wednesday, my classical guitar duo partner and I will (hopefully) record the last piece destined to go onto our first CD. I say "hopefully" because sometimes it takes a few weeks to get a good recording. Vivaldi can be a devil to play! You can bet I'll blog about it and post links if we're successful.
That's all for now, I promise! As always, thanks for reading my blog. I love you guys.
The Emerald City Writer's Conference is over now. It's a bittersweet feeling - I loved every minute of it, but by Sunday afternoon I was exhausted and ready to be done with crowds and excitement for this year. Here are the highlights:
Hanging out with my buddy from last year, Anna Kearie
Winning not one- but TWO - raffle prizes at lunch on Saturday! The board is for a beautiful, artist-designed book cover for a future book. I may self-publish my memoir at some point, so I was thrilled to win this one!
Hanging out with the Firemen. These hunky guys generously hosted a coffee-and donut breakfast on Saturday and happily posed for pictures with conference attendees.
My display for the Book Fair was exactly perfect. I was delighted with the swag choices I made. I gave away about 2/3 of the pens, and about 3/4 of the Rack Cards. Sitting at a table behind posters of my books, talking about them to strangers and to friends, was a fabulous experience. It didn't take long for me to come up with a couple of catch-phrases: "America's Darlings is about - wait for it - SEX in the Olympics! How FUN and ridiculous is that?" And this one: "They have coaches, and they have to practice just like any other athlete ... and they get POINTS TAKEN OFF for mistakes during performances!" (Wink, wink,wink!) And another: "And, oh, yeah - there's a love story, too."
Participating in the Book Fair for the first time
Getting to know my fellow Ellora's Cave authors
One of my favorite parts of this conference is the wide variety of great workshops and classes they offer. I took as many as I could, with enticing titles such as: Taming Twitter, The Busy Author's Guide to Social Media, and Reviews and Publicity - Where are the Readers? As you can see, I was giving myself a crash course in social media and in marketing. It turns out that even though I have a long way to go, I'm on the right path and I'm already doing a lot of things I should be doing to market my books. So - yeah me!
I have come away with a year's worth of inspiration. Spending time with other writers is crucial to my development as an author, and I am so grateful that this wonderful conference is right at my back door. I can't wait until next year.
Before I know it, I'll be heading over to Bellevue Washington for the Emerald City Writer's Conference. In my last post, I spoke of putting together promotional materials to give away at the Book Fair and at other times. I designed and ordered posters, business cards, rack cards, and pens. At the time, only the posters had arrived. Now I have everything - and I'm very pleased!
The Posters
The Rack Cards (both sides) and the Business Cards
The Pens - all 250 of them
I've already started giving away pens and the cards. Last night, for instance, I was at a board meeting of the Seattle Classical Guitar Society, where I'm the secretary. I brought a handful of pens and Rack Cards. I set them out before the meeting at everyone's seat. The Treasurer came in a few minutes late and missed my (rather excited) explanation.
She sat down at the table. She gave a long look at my "Inn on the Edge" Rack Card. Looking baffled, she shuffled through her treasurer's papers, fished something out of her purse, exchanged pleasantries with the President of the Board. She picked up the pen and read the inscription. Then she read most if not all of the book blurb on the Rack Card, trying to appear to be paying attention to the meeting.
"What is all this?" she whispered in my direction.
"It's me! I'm Gail Bridges! I have a pen name. I wrote these books..."
"Oh!" Her eyes grew large. I noticed for the first time how very gray they were.
"I write erotica," I said under my breath, "so they may not be to your taste - but I thought I'd share these things with all of you because I'm so dang excited! I have a new book coming out!"
"Cool." She tucked the pen into her purse. "Thanks."
So there you have it: I'm doing my part. Even if most people won't be interested in my work, I'm committed to networking, to promoting, to marketing my books. At least a little. They say word-of-mouth is best, right? And, who knows? If I continue to share my excitement with friends and acquaintances, to give out cards and pens and cards, I may find a reader sometime, somewhere. Giving out my swag last night may not have resulted in a sale, but it was fun. It's good practice to talk about my work, to answer questions, and to find ways around the - gasp! - erotica thing.
Come Visit me! I'd love to see you.
I hope to take notes and impressions of the upcoming conference. Maybe even a photo or two. I'd like to share my experiences in a future blog post. Until then, adios amigos!
...And now, for a change of pace - no leather at all, not even the tiniest scrap!
I'm gearing up for the Emerald City Writer's Conference (ECWC), which is put on by the Seattle chapter of the Romance Writers of America. It's just two and a half weeks away! On October 17, I'll put away my leather punch and abandon my various art projects. I'll don my writing cap. I'll sharpen up my adverbs and brush off my prepositions. I'll set off across the floating bridge and head for Bellevue Washington to attend the biggest, most wonderful Conference around.
I attended the ECWC last year, dipping my toes into the waters of the world of Romance books and Romance authors and Romance publishers - but, truth be told, I didn't have a clue what I was doing at this particular Conference. Although I was beside myself with excitement, I didn't yet feel like a bona-fide author, especially a Romance author. I had a shiny new contract for my first erotica book, Paint Job, with Ellora's Cave, but publication was still three very long months away. My second book, America's Darlings, was in its infant stage, written but not yet revised or polished. And my third, Inn on the Edge wasn't anywhere on the horizon yet.
I sound like I'm talking about my children, don't I?
The Conference was an eye-opener. I loved it. For one thing, it had a much friendlier feel than the other Conference I'd attended earlier in the summer, the enormous all-genre Pacific Northwest Writers Association. Why was the Romance Conference better? It took me completely by surprise. Are Romance writers nicer people? Was it because the attendees were 90% women? Or what? I still haven't figured it out, but the Romance event was just plain FUN. Games. Raffles. Welcomes for new attendees. Sign-ups for special dinners out. Theme parties. Gift baskets. Prizes. Did I mention that everyone was friendly?
I remember going up a long, long elevator to the third floor to where the Conference was based. At the top, in front of me, was a table bursting with goodies: pens, and hot-from-the-press books, little wrapped candies, lip balm and tiny vanity mirrors, and more, so much more. I stared at the table in wonder, thinking, Who are all these things for? Certainly not for me?
"Go ahead," said a lady with a wide red smile who walked right up to me, "take some! These are people's promotional items for their books. See?" She picked up a purple pen. "This one is nice, isn't it? It has the author's name and website on it." She held it out to me. "Here, put it into your bag! Take more!" She rifled through the piles of give-aways. "Hey. This is a sweet pad of Post-it notes! You need Post-it notes, don't you? Of course you do."
I did. Very much so. More than any other moment of my life.
"Go on," she said again, tossing one into her own shoulder bag as she walked away, "take one of everything!"
Reading the lettering on each item, noting the clever titles, looking at pictures on the more elaborate items, I imagined the day I would have such things of my own to promote my own future books. Feeling like the world might actually welcome a new author like myself, I carefully collected one of each item. And I learned a new word: swag. This stuff is called swag by insiders. Cool.
A few of the promotional pens from last year. The one on the left has a USB!
Just a sampling of the many non-pen items I collected.
The "Jane Porter" oval thing is a nail file!
Last year, of course, I went to the Conference with nothing but an open mind. This year, I intend to be prepared. I want to add my own contributions to the piles of swag.
A few weeks ago, I set to work designing and ordering my promotional materials. I had no idea there were so many online-businesses specializing in conference swag! Choosing what to get and where to get it took as long as the designing. I finally settled on what I hoped would cover all my Conference needs: Posters for the Book Fair. Rack cards with images of my book covers and blurbs. Business cards. And, of course, pens. Yesterday, the first item showed up on my front porch - the posters. I was thrilled.
I'll adhere these posters to stiff backings and set them on stands for the Book Fair.
I love them!
I'll continue posting about my swag items as they appear. And I'll be sure to take notes and pictures at the Conference itself, and write about how this year differs from last year. Because it will. After all, I'm now a bona-fide author.
