Jason the Author: 2011

Two weeks ago I went exclusive with KDP Select for my book The Island of Ted. That means the book can now only be sold through Amazon (with deals for Prime members) and all the other book markets, like Barnes and Noble, can no longer carry the title. In exchange for being exclusively with Amazon KDP, they throw out some very cool enticements which I may go over in future blogs. But since going exclusive with Amazon, my sales have increased by a decent margin. So I think I'll stick with them to release all future books as well. That is, unless Barnes and Noble and iTunes come up with a better deal for indie authors.

I'm nearing the completion date for The Lamp and I've concluded that it should be a standalone title instead of a series. If I had to choose between releasing a deep, fast paced novel and a thinned out series of novellas that basically cover the same storyline. As a reader, I'd prefer the novel-length work so that's probably where this is headed.

My goal is never to sell a million books but to make the reader happy and give them an enjoyable experience. The reader is everything to me. If I fail to satisfy the reader and become a millionaire selling junk stories, I have failed at this endeavour.

Office Space

Where the magic happens...

Amazon and Indie Publishing

Until a couple years ago, a new writer had very few options if he or she wanted to get their work in front of readers. You could try to get signed by one of the big-6 publishing houses (similar odds to winning the lottery), maybe sign with a small house and earn less than minimum wage, or spend thousands of dollars to self-publish your own work. Frankly, none of these options appealed to me as a first time novelist.

While mulling over my options, I stumbled upon J.A. Konrath's blog. Konrath was traditionally published and abused by the industry, so he opted out of it altogether and put up his considerable backlist (along with new content) onto Amazon's KDP platform. According to him, getting into bed with a major publisher is probably the worst thing a writer can do for their career.

It was through Konrath's blog that I learned about a young twenty-something named Amanda Hocking, who had written a paranormal romance series that had been rejected by every publisher she'd submitted to. After John Locke, Amanda was the first KDP author to sell over one million copies. And yes, she is a millionaire now but that's not what impressed me about her story. What impressed me was the fact that she took her career into her own hands and made things happen. That's why I released my first novel with Amazon KDP instead of shopping it around.

Soon after publishing The Island of Ted, I got involved on the Kindle Boards forum, where I learned that Amanda Hocking, while certainly an exceptional case, is not the only indie author making a very nice living by publishing with Amazon. There is actually a good number of indies doing very, very well on this platform. My sales are nowhere near what those authors are pulling, but I have an audience. And that's more than I had a year ago.

In the next blog post I'll talk about some of the details on publishing my next book which, at present, is looking to be a 3-book series. That may change if my editor gets back to me with, "You should wrap this up in a single volume," in which case I will release it as a stand alone title.

Enjoy your holiday weekend, my fellow Americans!

Book Sale!

UPDATE 12/21/2011 -- (SALE IS OVER)

Amazon is doing a 99 cent sale on The Island of Ted right now. You can read my 300 page novel, or you could choose to spend the same amount on something else:

- Buy 1/3 of a tall coffee at Starbucks

- Get one McDouble or value fry at McDonald's (sorry, no combo)

- Purchase a 3-pack of soap at the Dollar Store

- Watch 1/8 of a movie at the theater (matinee only)

Ok, that is all. Sales pitch over.

Looming Projects on the Horizon

For all of you anxiously awaiting news on my next book (by which I mean, "Hi Mom") it's actually going to be a series. I'm currently finishing up book one of a 3-book novella series titled "The Lamp." It is not, as you suspect, a collection on interior design. This series will fall into the realm of urban fantasy with a splash of mystery, a dash of suspense, and a tablespoon of humor. Oddly enough, that's also the recipe for my new organic chocolate truffles.

This is a pretty dark series so I've considered publishing it under a pen name so as to not confuse the living daylights out of those coming from The Island of Ted. Anyone care to recommend a good pen name? I was thinking of something very professional and serious-sounding, like Spud McJunkens. Thoughts?

Speaking of The Island of Ted, a few people have asked me how many copies I've sold since I'm not doing any advertising whatsoever and just leave the book to Amazon algorithms to make the pitch to prospective buyers. With that system in place, I've had ~~653 sales on Amazon~~ (EDIT 12/29/11: over 4,000 thanks to December) and a smattering of sales on other outlets like Barnes and Noble. That doesn't sound like much (because it's not) but you have to figure that literally no work has gone into the book since the editor handed it back to me in January. I have no idea how people even find the book since I have no money to run ads.

While sales have been paltry, I'm encouraged by the fact that if I hadn't pulled the trigger and released the book, no one would have read it. Now there are over six-hundred people that have read some sappy love story I wrote for my wife. The new book will no doubt bring a different crowd into the mix but I welcome them with open arms. So it might be a long, long while before I'm selling millions of copies like indie authors such as John Locke and Amanda Hocking, but I'm happy with my small base of readers. I'm thankful for each and every one of them.

Guest Post - The Grammar Nazi

Today I want to share a terrific (and somewhat educational) short story, written by my friend and editor, Tom Safford. While this story clocks in at over 3000 words, I promise that it will be worth your time.

The Grammar Nazi

Bradleigh Chester-Nottinghamshire stands six feet tall on his tip-toes. But since he would never degrade himself thusly – exactly the way he would phrase his emphatic opposition to such a preposterous act – he stands plainly upright at five feet, five inches. It is from this relatively lofty vantage point that he glares at his third-grade students, waiting for one of them to flinch.

“I ask again – nay, I mandate – that someone volunteers to write a proper sentence on the blackboard (‘which is green, of course,’ his mind mutters to itself in one-way dialogue), concerning one event in which you took part this past weekend. If nobody will volunteer in the next -- 37 -- seconds, I shall have no choice but to arbitrarily choose one of you to complete the task.”

Proper and improper are two of Bradleigh’s favorite words.

He can be sanctimonious. To eight-year-olds, half of whom cannot correctly spell the, he is the male form of the Ice Maiden. He looks the part of the old male English school marm, with a big hawkish schnoz (northern Wisconsin vernacular for nose, a word he’d never lower himself to use, incidentally…), on the end of which is perched a pair of semicircular lenses wrapped in cheap, but expensive-looking, leopard-mottled plastic frames. He refers to them as his spectacles. Bradleigh does not own a pair of glasses. Nor does he end his sentences with prepositions.

He has been teaching English to first-, second-, third- and fourth-graders for 27 years. He grew up in Minocqua, graduating from this very grade school – Minocqua-Hazelhurst-Lake Tomahawk, or MHLT – and then Lakeland Union High School. From these two fine institutions he took his neuroses to Yale University, from which he earned a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature degree. Next he worked as a copy editor for the Milwaukee Journal for a few years. Then he attended graduate school at the University of Wisconsin-Madison (just Wisconsin to any college football fan), where he met his sweet, proper Betty. His graduate work was in, of course, English Literature. He and Betty married after his graduate studies. After the nuptials and their two-week exploration of rain-swamped England, Bradleigh and Betty bought their home in Boulder Junction (a northern neighbor of Minocqua), and Bradleigh began his career at MHLT in late August of that year. He has been teaching proper English to six-, seven-, eight- and nine-year-olds ever since.

Whenever possible (IE, when he does not run the risk of confusing some illiterate person who reads at a tenth-grade level or worse), Bradleigh speaks and writes the Queen’s English.

At any rate:

These 37 interminable seconds pass without as much as a peep from the hyperafraid (or at least anxious) youngsters.

“Very well. Miss Anderton, come hither to receive your chalk, at which point you shall move to said blackboard (which is green) and convey, in writing, one sentence describing something that you accomplished this past weekend. Events from Friday evening are also acceptable.”

Georgette Anderton comes from middle-class ilk, has middle-class common sense (Bradleigh maintains that there is no such thing: everything requires analysis) and middle-class book sense. In common sense she trumps Mr. Chester-Nottinghamshire (he will not allow himself the weakness of assumption); in book sense, he has her by a country mile – an English country mile.

Georgette requires three minutes to produce:

I eight lobstar and pucked.

Giggles, of course, erupt from the third-grade academic brown-nosed bourgeoisie attendant in this classroom (four strong, of 21 total students). The other 16 students are busy reading, and attempting to process, the sentence.

“Silence!” Bradleigh shrieks.

Turning to poor, red-faced Georgette, he attempts to use her poorly wrought sentence as an opportunity to teach:

“’Eight,’ dear (pointing at words as he addresses them), is a number. A-t-e, ate, is the past-tense form of the infinitive “to eat.” Exchange the “a” for an “e” to properly spell “lobster.” Finally, one does not puck unless that is some childish new slang to describe playing at ice hockey. ‘Puke,’ Miss Anderton, is spelled… someone, how is puke spelled?”

Nobody has ever seen puke spelled, so nobody – not even the third grade brown-nosed bourgeoisie – raises a hand.

“Mister Fleming, how is puke spelled? Please come up here and show us.”

Bradleigh hands James Fleming the chalk.

James produces the following:

Peock

“Mister Fleming, there is no such thing as peock, be it a noun, pronoun, verb, adverb, article, adjective, or preposition.”

Fleming is agog, his ovular, elfin face a sheet of white with large blue-white pools for eyes… the pupils of which are now as swollen as puffed rice.

“Ladies and gentlemen – you may return to your seat, Georgette; in retrospect, perhaps your relative spelling acumen should be praised, when compared to that of Mr. Fleming – puke is properly spelled p-u-k-e. For future reference, and in terms of the proper formal writing and/or verbal conveyance of our glorious language, I suggest that you opt for vomit in lieu of puke.”

The bell rings, and 21 students are saved from further potential embarrassment.

“Bollocks,” mutters Bradleigh.

Speaking up: “For tomorrow, you shall each write or type a one-page summary of an activity in which you took part this past weekend, including events occurring on Friday evening. Now you are dismissed. Erm, Mr. Blakeley, do tuck in your shirt.”

As this was the final class period of the day – it was now exactly 3:03pm and 12 seconds on Bradleigh’s time piece – the teacher arranged the top of his desk so that it was not quite so messy, but not to the point of scrubbing it with Old English or throwing away every unnecessary piece of paper. Bradleigh is a language freak; an obsession with keeping an orderly work space is not in his Basket of Idiosyncrasies. Having cursorily cleaned his desk top, he gathered up his satchel and headed for his horseless carriage. Just kidding – he does refer to them as automobiles… even as cars, occasionally, when he’s feeling frisky.

Minocqua, Wisconsin is spread out among an area that includes over a hundred freshwater lakes and approximately a million – or maybe even a thousand million – trees, many of which are conifers. Minocqua is a “town” of approximately four thousand year-round denizens, with only about eight square blocks of concrete. It is a tourist town, luring and then feasting on the affinity of denizens from Chicago, Milwaukee and the Twin Cities for fishing, water-skiing, swimming, peace-and-quiet-with-no-car-horns-nor-sirens, and mosquito-squashing possibilities. One can become adept at killing mosquitoes after only a few days in the Lakeland Area (of which Minocqua is the de facto capital).

Commuting to and from work in such a spread-out area (and town) is not too different from doing so in a metropolitan area. Folks up in the wide-open spaces of the Lakeland Area live 15, 20, even 30 minutes from where they work. In that vein, Bradleigh’s work place (MHLT, in Minocqua) is about a thirty-minute drive from his home, way up in Boulder Junction. Boulder Junction is in the far-north region of the Lakeland Area, which is fondly referred to as “Tundra.” The distance from home to classroom is approximately 20 miles. Hence, the 30-minute drive. Given such a lengthy drive, Bradleigh faces daily reminders – from road signs, billboards, names of signs on houses, etc. – how poor the average person’s English is.

The following sorts of signs trip Bradleigh’s trigger every time, sending him into a sour and preachy mood (which we have heretofore seen displayed in the classroom):

The Brown’s

Verdict: Names are nouns, and one does not ever place an apostrophe in a non-possessive plural noun, unless that apostrophe is used to take the place of other letters (in an abbreviation). This sign means “(house of) the Brown.” “How poor and disgusting, rather.”

Gregs Lock’s and Key’s

Obviously there is the placing-of-apostrophe-in-a-plural-non-possessive-noun problem with Lock’s and Key’s, but the brunt of Bradleigh’s frustration is felt by Gregs. Assuming that the locks and keys belong to Greg, there should unequivocally be an apostrophe between the second “g” and the “s” to show ownership of said locks and keys. “I’m disappointed to know that Greg has the Rule of Apostrophes completely backward. I’d rather fix my locks myself!”

Morrison’s Steak Shop – Their isn’t anything better!

Their is the third-person plural possessive pronoun. There is used to show location. Whoever wrote this sign obviously is unaware of this RULE of ENGLISH (!!!). “How could anyone be so utterly stupid?!”

Such sub-par writing affects Bradleigh thusly on his daily trail of grammatical scorn, from work to home (the return trip).

Upon arriving at home in Boulder Junction (Tundra) this evening, he turns on the “telly” (he so wishes he were British or, more specifically, English and in England) and begins his daily period of telly-watching: Discovery Channel, History Channel, Food Network (one of the shows about gadgets has especially poor grammar, especially in applying verbs to inanimate objects incorrectly. For instance, ice cream does not scoop onto a tray; rather, it is scooped, since ice cream cannot scoop itself.). He also occasionally enjoys Jeopardy, since the contestants are generally smart enough to spell their final answers correctly, although sometimes their penmanship could use some improvement; and Wheel of Fortune, since they never spell words incorrectly.

His wife Betty – probably the one woman on Earth who could possibly stand bearing the banner of wifedom in the Chester-Nottinghamshire castle – asks about Bradleigh’s day as they seat themselves for dinner, which is (brilliant!) bangers and mash.

“Awful and, well, somewhat amusing. I am off-put by their terrible spelling and grammar. Even so, I am fond of them generally and will continue to persevere in giving them proper training in their native tongue. I only wish they received better guidance at home; I feel as if whatever they learn in my classroom is negated by their parents’ poor command of the language.”

“Oh, Bradleigh, who lit your fuse today?”

“Do not use clichés, Betty. It is unbecoming of one so dear as thee.”

“Oh, Bradleigh, you should talk so more often -- you really can be a kind man, rather…”

He cuts her off just as she starts getting romantic:

“Well all right. First a child spelled ‘puke’ as ‘puck.’ Adding to this mini-crisis, her chosen corrector’s effort was even worse: ‘peock.’ How on earth could anyone envisage it spelled thusly, Betty? I mean I actually nearly laughed at the poor lad!”

“Eat your mashed potatoes, Bradleigh, and I’ll warm your brandy.”

“Smashing.”

Highway 51 South held the usual mood-depressing signs on this Tuesday morning drive to work.

Bentley’s – Your gonna love it!

“You’re equals you are. Your is the second-person possessive pronoun. I’ll not deign to recognize such doggerel as gonna: if a person is too lazy to write going to, then he should not write at all.”

Angelino’s: Forward. Thinking.

Fragments: “Dear Lord, do they not know how to combine subject and predicate to form an actual sentence? How utterly barbaric! Next we’ll be reduced to grunts and hand gestures!”

et cetera

Only Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” and Journey’s “Faithfully,” on local FM station WMQA, and the rare glance at the road ahead, tore his attention from the hideous grammar and/or spelling manifested on signs all over the place. This usually put him in a poor mood as he neared job and children and frustration. Maybe it would have been better if he’d put on blinders, but then, there would be the practical concern for peripheral vision, which can be important whilst one operates one’s motor-car.

As is his custom, Bradleigh arrives about half an hour before his first-period class and, as is also his custom, he spends the balance of that time reading in the staff lounge.

He is neither unfriendly nor unpleasant, per se, around his peers. Nor is he exactly socially proactive in an early-morning small-talk sense. He is an avid listener: his ears are like radar receptors for misspoken words and phrases.

To his left, Mrs. Scherberhorn brags about her brother to Mrs. Mandingo.

“My brother Harry is an O.B.G.Y.N. at Howard Young…”

Bradleigh, of course, keeps this to himself – though it would take but a quick glance to discern the anguish on his face:

“The correct slang or shortening would be either Ob-Gyn (abbreviated) or O.G. (acronym). O.B.G.Y.N. is an invalid attempt at an acronym,” he muses further, “Unless her brother is a doctor specializing in something like Old Boogers Globbed in Your Nose.” But then, that does not exactly make sense in terms of being a medical specialty, so Bradleigh takes on a bothered affect and audibly huffs (under the pretense of clearing his throat), which causes a bit of tea to spill from his cup… which causes further irritation. Pink-cheeked, he gathers his flustered self in time, however, to pick up the following:

“Everybody and their brother think that the Packers will beat the Bears this Sunday.”

Nearly spitting up some of his tea in a liquid gasp, he engages in a mental conversation with himself: “Everybody is singular. Ergo, that phrase would be correctly stated, thought or written, ‘Everybody and his brother…’ or ‘Everybody and her brother…’”

Having got his day off to a proper angst-filled start, he picks up his KYW anthology (Keats, Yeats and Wordsworth: To My Brothers, When You Are Old and I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud are three of his favorite poems), drops his cup in the waste receptacle, and heads for his first class of the day.

First period is comprised of 22 second-graders. They are every bit as bright as their third-grade counterparts, only they’ve had one fewer year of training in what is easily the most important part of the curriculum. Today he is giving a pop quiz:

Choose the best word to complete the sentence.

1) The dog ate his ___________

a) food

b) truck

c) house

2) People work with _________ hands.

a) their

b) there

c) they’re

3) Linda _________ go to the store.

a) can not

b) cannot

c) cant

4) I think; therefore, I _________.

a) are

b) is

c) am

So on and so forth. He was not looking forward to grading this -- what with all the stupid mistakes he was sure to find -- though once in a while it did seem as if he were getting through to them in some respects. So it is that giving a quiz is as much indicative of an expectation/hope for greatness as it is a fear of the failed application of one’s expert instruction. Some would do well, some would do C work, and the rest would utterly fail.

Some students are, of course, brighter than others, and he was looking forward to his “puck” third-grade class at the end of the day for the opportunity to read/hear about those weekend excursions – so much so that his entire lunch period passed without his once thinking about the English language and whether or not it was being spoken or had been written correctly in his immediate vicinity.

2:20pm

Mr. Chester-Nottinghamshire relaxes at his desk seat as one of the third-graders reads her essay at the front of the classroom:

“Mom and Mom’s special friend Sue (dear heavens, Bradleigh expounds mentally) took me to see ‘The Princes Dairys Part To.’ Sue baught me some popkorn and Coke and the move was great shes so pretty, I ate the popkorn and then went too the bath room. It smelled bad so I went real (my goodness this is poor, but she volunteered so I’ll say nothing) fast this big scarry woman was in there. Then we ate some ice kreme and Sue called the man in the window a Big Utt, what ever that is. Then I went to slepe and Mom and Sue wrestled (dear God).”

“Well done, Skyy. Would anyone else like to volunteer?”

What sort of a parent would name a daughter after a brand of vodka? Daft, rather!

Bradleigh is roused from his stupor by the movement of a hand/arm toward the back of the classroom.

“Yes, erm, Gloria, what is it?”

“May I go to the bathroom, sir?”

Some of the students cannot pronounce (or remember) Bradleigh’s complicated last name; these call him sir. At least they have manners.

“You may use the WC, Gloria, after you’ve regaled us of your exploits this past weekend.”

Gloria Freidenhoft gives Bradleigh a puzzled look – what in the world is a WC, mister? –and then shrugs it off and reads:

“I wached figure skating on Satterday, daddy says thats the same as waching pant dry. I think that menz daddy duzin’t like figure skating. Mommy likes figure skating. Later mommy maid me a hot beef sandwitch it was good. Then me and daddy wached a movey on HBO. Mommy had too go too the bathroom for like the whole movey, shes sick. Mommy went too the hospital on Sunday because her stumach hurts a lot, mommy doesn’t know I know but I know. Me and daddy went too chruch and then ate lunch at Burger King, Burger King rulz. Like that song my mommy and daddy like it gose I like the Whopper, beep the Big Mac its a dance song they danced too at prom and thats what it says. Mommy was sick when she got home so I helped do the dishes and took Rusty for a walk. Thats it.”

Several beats of silence ensue.

“Thank you, Gloria. You may use the restroom now.”

Poor girl.

One week later Gloria returned to the front of the class to read another weekend events report:

Daddy took Mommy and me too the hospital on Satterday. Daddy was real scaired I knew and Mommy talked too me abaught being a laydie and finding some one some day how to be a Mommy and to be a big gurl. And then Mommy got real kwiet. And Mommy was in the hospitle bed. And then Mommy closed her eyes and Daddy cryed, he was real sad. And Daddy sed Mommy is with the angles. That means Mommy is dead. But Mommy is with the angles now, and Daddy ses thats the best plaice to be. So I’m sad Mommy isn’t here with us, but Daddy ses shes happy. But I miss my Mommy.”

Of course the class is speechless… at least until Bobby McEntire blurts out, “Your mom is dead, stupid little girl. She’s dead and she’s never coming back! Loser! You don’t have a mom anymore!”

And Bradleigh springs from his chair with a grunt and digs in vehemently:

“You stupid little shit, sit your pompous bootlicking posterior in that chair and if you say another mean word to her, I will sew your lips shut myself!”

And that was Bradleigh’s last day in class. Schoolteachers must teach, and without the ability to do so, this paragon of this language slid downhill quickly. His wife could console him only so much. His semi-reclusive personality became permanently reclusive and he died from the effects of hypothermia – he went for a walk in the woods of Boulder Junction in January and never returned home -- less than a decade after that day in class when a girl spoke of her mother’s death and a sociopathic classmate mocked her for it.

These words are inscribed on his tombstone:

Here rests Bradleigh

Loving husband

Adored teacher

English as rain,

Here lies

The Grammer Nazi

You and I both know it’s not the “Nazi” tag that keeps Bradleigh turning in his grave…

Writing as a Job

Writing is my passion, but sometimes it feels like a job (and one that's not particularly enjoyable). At the moment, there's a smorgasbord of projects laid out and I'm faced with the great task of organizing everything. On the front burner, I'm working with a documentary film director on a project called "The Valley of Death." I'm also twenty pages into a new novel, titled "The Lamp." Between those two, I'm doing re-writes on a screenplay (it's the movie version of The Island of Ted). On the back burner, I'm working on turning another screenplay (Charlie Plum) into a novel, although the title will probably change. In the oven (which is still pre-heating) I'm looking at a third novel (crime), titled "Fishing with Joe." And then there's the ever-looming non-fiction idea I'm attempting to flesh out for a possible book.

Some of these projects are very fun to work on and tinker with, while others seem a chore at the moment. I suspect that the reason my passion has waned some has to do with the volume of works that need completion. Add to this that I'm not especially good at organizing, and you can see how things can spin out of control very quickly. Nevertheless, writers write. And that's what I'm going to get back to. Enjoy your day/evening.

My Universal Shoot

I shot and directed a promo video for Universal Studios this past weekend. I can't say much about the content until it's released, but you can probably tell from the pictures that it has something to do with a certain western coming out soon. For you technophiles out there, I shot this on a Canon 7D in 1080 24p. I used an 18-135 lens for the outdoors footage and a Sigma 28mm 1.8 for the interiors. Lighting was done with an Arri tungsten kit, even though I exposed for daylight. The following pics are screenshots from the actual footage, not still photos! The footage is also not color corrected, it's just raw footage.

Amazon Sale!!!

Amazon just put my book on sale (28% off). I've been waiting for them to lower the price. This makes the book accessible to more people.

The Island of Ted

Writing and Price Dropping

So I got hired to write a treatment for a documentary film about social security and the "silver tsunami" (aging boom) that's currently taking place. The issues of social security and medicare/medicaid are profoundly depressing, especially in light of an aging boom. Therefore, I'd like to focus more on possible solutions to a severely broken government system. Social security works, but only if two requirements are met: the government doesn't dip into it to pay for other things, and the population of the workforce balances those receiving retirement benefits. Well, neither of those were able to be maintained for long, so the system is almost bankrupt. But there are options... and you'll learn about them in the movie. :-)

The Kindle and Nook versions of The Island of Ted went on sale two days ago and have seen a massive jump in sales through those channels. The paperback is moving slowly, as I suspect people aren't willing to trust a first time author they haven't read. However, the ebooks are so cheap, most readers don't have trouble hitting the Buy Now button. A film version of The Island of Ted has been in the pipeline for a couple years, so hopefully the books sales will continue to grow and force that ship to sail (all the way to a theater near you).

Working Out

Many posts ago, I mentioned my current workout routine. Although I've made some slight modifications, the goal is still gaining strength on usually one exercise per day. I cheat on that last one as I have a greater supply of energy. Last night I did 5 sets of bench press, with 6 repetitions for each set. The day before I did pull ups and t-bar deadlifts. The day before that... air squats, leg extensions and kettblebell swings.

My goal is to do one exercise per day and hit it hard, but as my strength increases I don't mind adding other movements here and there. The one exercise per day rule is just my minimum. But it's an effective minimum, I think. There's really nothing like lifting heavy weights. Since I've been on this strength training kick, I've noticed that my sleep is much deeper and I generally feel more mellow. I suppose that's because weight lifting burns through some kind of stress hormone and evens you out. Then again, I'm a college dropout, not an expert on exercise science.

Book Campaign!

I got a $100 Google AdWords coupon in the mail the other day so I signed up for an account. So far I've had nearly 12,000 impressions (meaning, that's how many times the ad for my book has loaded when people search) and only 10 clicks resulting from it. My friend told me to drop my daily allowance on AdWords from $25 to $8. I also added a few more keywords. This whole thing is a big experiment to see if the program works for selling eBooks on the Kindle, which is my main priority as an author right now.

The above banner will also run on KindleBoards (the #1 site for Kindle owners) on February 18 and 23rd. I picked those dates because Friday and Wednesday are the top days for book buyers. I assume the reason is that most people get their paychecks on those days. The banner will run for one full day on each date, and each ad costs $40. I've also solicited (and still am) book bloggers who would be willing to read and review my book. Without a huge marketing team behind the book, it's going to take word-of-mouth to get it going. I can pay a couple of bills with what I made last month on Amazon, so my goal is to cover a few more bills.

PURCHASE $2.99 KINDLE EDITION NOW ON AMAZON!

Hustle Online Soon

Well, I've spent that last three weeks editing my new short film "Hustle." It's a heartbreaking story about a teenage girl who lives on the streets. I'm very anxious to show this film to the masses because I'm curious to hear how different people will interpret the narrative. It's a short film, but definitely packs a punch. If you like simple, deep storytelling... I think you'll dig this little flick. Here are a few stills from the movie.