Bits and Pieces

My evidently long forgotten desire to post articles here on a daily basis, has resulted only in increasingly sporadic additions. Although I have nothing to say, I feel the urge this fine Sunday morning so here I am. Here's a collection of snippets from my intermittently focussed life.

I've lost interest in Facebook. I jump on every day but rarely find anything to excite me or interest me. It does however, please me to see others, sharing their lives and opinions in words and pictures.




Australia's thrilling one wicket loss to New Zealand. I watched the last couple of hours of this game in which Australia lost 8 wickets for 26 runs and were bowled out for 151 in a World Cup game at Eden Park. Despite the impossibility of defending such a low score, Australia managed to dismiss nine of the ten batsmen required to win the match. After Mitchell Starc destroyed the lower order with fast accurate bowling, New Zealand's Richardson tonked the ball over the fence for a six to win the match. So exciting. I love cricket!

Three men in black body suits. We went to Paddy's Markets yesterday for a spot of shopping and had lunch in the food court at Market City. The three men also carried mini sandwich boards on their backs and were handing out advertising flyers. As they passed us, we walked past a ninety year old man on stilts, who was dressed as a clown and swivelling a hula hoop around his hips. The things people do!




Good bye Dinosaur. I finally bought a new phone and said goodbye to my five year old HTC Desire Z. I bought a Samsung Galaxy 3s, and I've never been happier with a phone. I don't buy the latest technology because I don't need it and I don't have enough money. This twice superseded phone is great: very easy to use and it allows me to do a number of things I couldn't before, for example send and receive MMS, use voice commands and film myself - which might not be such a good thing. 

Lovesick continues to develop slowly. I struggled to write 1300 words on Friday and that is the sum total of my writing for the week. How do I feel about the slow progress? Philosophical. I can't force it and therefore I can't be bothered worrying about it. It will all come together in due course. I don't think it matters how long it takes. I think what's most important is that it becomes the best novel I have ever written...and it will be.

Photo sources:
http://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/local-news/aled-blake-falling-out-love-1828195
http://www.costumecraze.com/category/sports-costumes

A Successful Failure

I was pretty optimistic as I headed off to the local market this morning. On my two previous trips I sold a few copies of my first two novels. This time, I had a third, and I raised the ante a little with the table set up and bonus offers.

It's the first day of December and Christmas will be here in the blink of an eye so I had a sign which promoted unique Christmas gifts including signed copies of my novels, original artworks by my daughter, and free gift wrapping.With each purchase of one or more of my books, I offered a choice of one other book for free: Jo Nesbo, Bill Bryson and Jayne Buxton to name but a few. On top of all that, I was there to greet people and chat about books, or anything at all.

This sunny day was matched by my disposition. An early sale of Ashmore Grief, buoyed my confidence further. I needed one more sale to cover my costs, and then it was full steam ahead to profit town.

Five hours later I was watching the clock, waiting to pack up and go

home, wondering why I had not sold anything else. Curious as to why I had less conversations and less interest than last time. Apart from the one wise lady who purchased Ashmore Grief, only one other person even picked up a display copy and read the blurbs of any of my books. You can see the multitudes streaming past my stall in the photo above, and the masses queueing to meet me and buy my books.

It was bad enough for me to pretty much decide never to return. The stall next to mine, was manned by a husband and wife, visiting this market for the first time to sell new books, and lots of them for only $5 each. Talk about competition. 

They were a lovely couple though. The guy is a web designer, the woman an editor and book reviewer for Reader's Digest. They both work from home. It was great to meet them. It was cool to meet the guy who designed a quit smoking program which he wants to publish, and another who apparently gained successive, multiple free entries into a certain Kings Cross establishment. The woman who is writing her own dictionary, and the guy who loves to read and would have bought a book if only it were written in his native Spanish.


I'm proud of my work. The lack of sales and recognition for my work is no reflection on its quality. Today's failure proves that I believe in what I do, and ultimately, by the grace of God and hopeful persistence, I will succeed.

Thanks for reading.

The Last Hard Sell

I could have written this yesterday when, despite strenuous combatative mental efforts, I felt somewhat despondent. I could have used this forum to vent: to decry the appalling waste of six hours of my life, to lament the vanity of my efforts, to call into question the wisdom and value of my actions. I could have done that yesterday, but I was hoping a good night's sleep would take the edge of my disappointment. It seems I may have been mistaken.

As part of my continuing efforts to sell my novel, Loathe Your Neighbor, I travelled to Gerringong where a street market is held once a month. At short notice, I was able to get a table, in a good location just inside the entrance to the Town Hall. It was a fresh, sunny morning. My mood was hopeful, and doubtful.

I greeted nearly everyone who walked past.Twenty six of these greetings turned into conversations. I handed out a dozen or so business cards. People talked to me, asked me questions, gave me advice, encouraged me, looked at my books, talked about what they liked to read, and what they had written themselves. Just before nine o'clock I sold a copy of my debut novel, Devolution. Forty five minutes later, I sold a copy of LYN. With that sale, I covered the cost of the table, my mood was bouyant. However, that was my last sale.

A number of people said they would think about it. Still more said they had already spent their money. Others said they simply couldn't, or shouldn't buy any more books. They wished me well. They walked away.

I couldn't help think of my taxi driving days when I once worked ten hours and took home thirty dollars. I couldn't help consider the fact that I had sold two books accidentally, a week ago when I was having dinner with a group of guys from my church. I couldn't help but be hurt but the words 'It costs too much.' I couldn't help but be discouraged by the guy who self published a book and walked into bookshops, and sold fifteen hundred copies. I received so many suggestions on how to sell LYN, and I have tried most of them, but my success has been underwhelming. I've had enough.

Was I only making conversation with people yesterday because I wanted them to buy my book? Yes. Do I like talking to  people? Yes, but I wouldn't go anywhere specifically just to say hello to people, and have a chat. Am I tired of devising new ways to reach people? Yes. I'm not a salesman. It's time to concentrate on the next book. I've done all I can. Enough is enough. This post is too long and I don't want to write any more like this. When I cannot enjoy the fact that two complete strangers risked $20 of their hard earned money to buy my books, I know it is time to step back from this marketing madness. As Kenny said, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, and know when to fold 'em."

Photograph source:
http://www.haggardandhalloo.com/2010/10/28/review-kenny-rogers-gambler/