Clouds and Cover

The book you didn't like

As an indie writer, I know how challenging it can be to get reviews for your books. It's one of the biggest hurdles any writer faces, indie or traditionally published and one I understand too well.

So what happens when you read a book you don't like? What happens if the person in question isn't mean, did their best, and it just didn't connect with you?

You write a review.

Even if it's a bad one.

Because a bad review is better than no review, although I'll get back to this later.

The two main things I put forth in a review focus on being honest and on not being mean. The first one is easy. Did you like a book? Why did you like it or didn't like it? Don't offer spoilers and instead focus on your experience with the book. But be honest. To me, that's one of the key things in life because if you're not honest, what good is your review. The second bit is that you shouldn't be mean, which isn't difficult either. Too often people read a book they really dislike and rip it to shreds and are heartless about it. That only serves to fuel your ego and it isn't cool.

I recently read The Brass Giant by Brooke Johnson and as I wrote on my review on Goodreads, I didn't particularly love her book and gave my reasons why I didn't like it and also shared what I DID like.

For me, my five star review rating system goes something like this:

1 star: why the hell did you write this? (I've never given a 1 star review because if it deserves 1 star, that I finished it is a sad miracle in and of itself)

2 stars: I finished the book but if this were a series, I don't think I'll stick around for the rest.

3 stars: I didn't love the book but I might check out the second one if there is a second one.

4 stars: I'm going to read you next time around for sure.

5 stars: I'm thankful to have read this and want more so write more please write more.

I gave Brooke's book 2 stars and explained that it was more than likely to do with my expectations being off target. In short, I've been wanting to read a steampunk book for the longest time and on this occasion, well I read a romance book that had steampunk elements.

Did I say it was a horrible book? No. I said it was not my cup of tea and closed a 2 star review recommending the book thinking of people who might enjoy the book. Now I'm writing this blog post and have included links to her website AND her book, the one I didn't like.

Why?

Because I'm not God. My opinion isn't the end all of it all. And in addition, Brooke took the review well and then some. No doubt a 2 star review stings more than a little and probably some of what I said as well, but she took it with grace and showed that she understands that not everyone will love her book.

I'm sure other people are not as gracious.

For me, I've been lucky that a big chunk of people that have read me have enjoyed my book, but I have had conversations with people who have not liked a book and I always ask what they didn't like and why. I do this not because I'm a masochist but because I want to understand. In her response, Brooke said she was sorry I didn't like the book although she wouldn't apologize for the elements of romance. That is the right answer if you ask me. You don't apologize for what you write. Ever. You say sorry that someone didn't enjoy but you don't apologize for your vision.

Being an author, the temptation to not give a bad review is obviously there. You never want to upset other fans, because heaven forbid that you suffer their backlash. The thing is that beyond a writer and a reader, I am a human and not doing something to avoid upsetting someone is rarely the best route of action.

I gave a 2 star review and that isn't the end of the world neither for Brooke, nor for me. Her book and I didn't click and that's Ok. But I paid for her book, I gave it chance, and I reviewed her book, being honest and thinking of people who would enjoy the book. That's why a bad review is a good thing, because for my 2 star review, I hope I am able to connect it to other readers who ARE looking for what she and other writers have to offer.

There are many cups of tea in life, just because you don't like one, doesn't mean it's rubbish.

Peace, love, and maki rolls.

Minding my own business

When you leave a job, you normally have another. On this occasion, I've opted to go solo and work freelance, to have more time for my writing, and it's been quite the experience. Even at barely 3 weeks since I resigned from my job in favor of pursuing my path, I've done quite a few things and experienced many others.

Throughout this time I've been able to manage my time as I understand it should be and that responsibility, although a bit frightening, is very liberating. Some days I am able to tackle a few tasks and other days I've been able to tackle a week's worth of work. I've focused on my writing, I've played music, I've recorded videos, and I've focused on doing things that make me happy.

What happy means on any given day is a constant evolution and a daily surprise.

Among the highlights, I finished transcribing Book 2 of the Human Cycle and the cover reveal is forthcoming as well as more info. I've written a lot of poetry, ordered new notebooks which arrived, and have talked to people to find projects I can be paid for. That would explain why I was able to proofread an entire textbook in just under two weeks. Opening myself to projects where I can put my skills is refreshing, be it proofreading, translating, developing editorial content, or ad campaigns, helping in the development of presentations, and several other things. The freedom to take on projects as they appear is a lovely change of pace, as has been the chance to manage my to-do list as I best understand I should.

I have also been able to do other things, like donate clothes at the Salvation Army and books to a local community effort in the Condado area in Puerto Rico (see pictures). That means I have time to help others in different ways. I will be doing more of these things because I think it's important to give back and help for the sake of doing a good deed.

There have also been several trips to surf and where I've left the house to write elsewhere. Both have been very good for me and allowed me to be in a good place emotionally. I've worked on several other projects and one does include opening my own Ebay store to send signed copies of my books. This effort will also include other extra surprises I'll be reporting soon. I'll also be exploring working with clients around the world and yes, if you think I can help you with anything, please by all means message me and I'll see what I can do to help. It doesn't matter where you are as long as we can communicate and make great work together.

I've also started to explore the experience of cold-calling schools to ask them for the opportunity to present an educational proposal I've been working on for some time. On the same line, I'm also preparing several workshops I will be offering at a community and professional level, varying in content and just letting me reach out and give things I believe in a shot.

For the longest time I've thought I can make a positive impact in companies and communities as well and this is me giving my best to try to do just what I said. Although I'm just getting started, I feel good at my prospects. I finished another daydream, and am progressing well with new works I'll be presenting at the Puerto Rico Comic Con as well as several other activities I'm planning.

In short, I'm minding my own business in the sense that I'm focusing on what matters to me and making the difference. Thanks for taking the time to read me, join me on several social media platforms and enrich my life. Be it through my writing, my work, or our interactions, I hope I am able to enrich your life as well.

Peace, love, and maki rolls

Rant in Estrada Minor – 1,000 words of what I want to do with my writing

I want my words to bring tears to your eyes. Tears of joy and sadness. I want a page of my writing to bring such emotion that you don’t know how to properly process what you just read. I want to make you think. Not just skimming your consciousness but really think. I want my words to invite you to question humbly, not arrogantly or aggressively. I want a daydream to make you smile and for that smile to come back to you when you taste something that comes from a daydream or you see a sunset that reminds you of all the lands we visit in Draem. I want you to start committing typos when you write Raelity. I want to show a different side to vampires. I want to challenge you. I respect you too much not to push you so I will push you. Sometimes more than others, but I will always challenge you because I don’t believe in spoon-feeding. I want my poetry to linger. I want it to fit in with your mood. I want to write that book you have to use tape so it doesn’t tear further. My dream is to share my dream and dreams. I want you to hate me when one of my characters die. I want you to hum a song I wrote. I want you to make a playlist and be fortunate enough to be on it. I want to surprise you on every page. I want what I write and how I write it to leave a mark. I want you to hate me for not writing faster. I want to be that link you share with a friend to offer support. I want my writing to make a difference. I want to heal through my writing and invite you and help you to heal as well. I want you to see the value in laughing, in crying, and in anger. I want my emotions to pour purely from my hands onto paper and for you to feel what I felt. I want you to find the hundreds of Easter eggs and random miscellaneous references I make. I want you to read me out of curiosity and never pity. I want you to like or hate what I write so much that you leave a review. I want to shake your hand after you read something I wrote. I want you to read something very personal and nod in agreement being Ok for feeling what you feel. I want you to see that breaking isn’t bad as long as you remember to get back up, to always get up, to always go forward, to follow your path, to embrace your dreams, to pursue happiness and damn the rest. I want you to forget that I’m an indie author until after you finish the book. I want to show that you can do it all if you’re stubborn enough to commit to your dreams. I want to make you shake your head at a Teactionary entry or a Visual Typo. I want you to feel compelled to check my youtube channel to see what other random thing I’ve posted. I want you to send me questions, so I can answer, and then we can talk. I want to write a quote you put on your fridge. I want your children to draw a character from the daydreams. I want you to see one of my Blanc Comics and help me see the stories I have to tell. I want my blog to be on your RSS feed. I want to write in every genre. I want the fact that I challenge myself to be something you can connect with. I want you to laugh out loud in class when you read a tweet instead of paying attention. I want the dedications I write in my books to mean something to you. I want my hands to cramp up from writing so much. I want to keep going. I want to write more. I want to take all the ideas I’ve ever dared to put on paper to make it to real life. I want to write about business, the real world, demons, faeries, and everything I can think of. I want to use the massive pile of random trivia to make you go AHA while reading. I want my fire to kindle yours. I want to make it to your bookshelf, I want to make it into a library, I want to make it onto a curriculum. I want my writing to matter because it reflects a part of you that you didn’t know was there. I want my lyrics to carve deeply. I want my smiles to cause your smiles. I want to write something worthy of an amusement park. I want you to see the movie we both want our book to become. I want you to dream for yourself. I want you to dream with me. I want to share dreams. I want you to ask for help if you need it. I want you to feel more than OK about yourself. I want you to look in the mirror and see my words telling you that it’s not just Ok to be yourself, but a magnificent thing. I want a part of you to die when a character of mine dies. I know I said it, but people think me a sadistic bastard when they have no idea how hard it was to let go. I want my madness to inspire your madness. I want to inspire you to be your own brand of weird and rock it. I want you to want to drink more tea, wear crazy socks, and laugh a little more. I want to be on your book of the year list. I don’t want you to follow me… I want you to join me. And in the end, I want to write and be read. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

One of a kind

People aren’t used to kindness. This much has become rather clear to me.

Women are surprised I’ll hold the door open without checking them out. Men will be surprised I hold the door open without being gay or needing a favor. Old ladies smile when I help them with their groceries. If I pass someone a tray at a cafeteria, they look at me weird but smile and eventually remember how to say thank you.

Kindness to me is a way of life and something I put a lot of importance on because I do think one kind act can make the world a better place. I don’t think myself a hero, but I do think myself as an ambassador of kindness because there is so much power in those small acts so many people take for granted.

I’ve been asked if I don’t have situations that discourage me from kindness and the fact is that I often have had situations where people don’t respond in the best way. In Manhattan, I held the door for an older woman and she took another door. I’ve said good morning to people and have them respond: “what’s so great about it?” and others not respond at all.

Like these I have plenty of examples, some even more intense, but I also have the desire to be kind regardless. Like most everyone, I’ve experienced hurt, frustration, and a variety of negative experiences. Regardless of all of that, I still decide to try and give my best and be kind. Even if it’s not appreciated, responded, or noticed, because for every time that’s happened, 20 or more times people have been pleasantly surprised and say thank you. And to me that’s worth the risk and the effort, so I keep being kind.

That’s why I’ll always have an available ear to listen. Because I think it makes a difference and because past experiences shall not define who and how I am. I am one of a kind, not necessarily because I am unique or special, but because whatever cards we’ve been dealt with in life, kindness is and shall always be the best hand to play.

Peace, love, and maki rolls

Ps.: When was the last act of random kindness you did?

The Wind’s chisel

A desert is proof of the craft of patience.

Meticulously,

Lovingly,

Every grain finds its place.

Waves curl across the sands.

Great walls of small proportions

Undisturbed

Ethereal in peace.

The wind caresses

Each dune

Each mound

Each line

Each as if it were the most important thing in that moment

And they are

Each of them.

Such is art

Such is love

Such is the wind

Such are we

At the best of our times

In the best of our inspiration

The puzzling Pandora predicament

The child had wished so often, so much, so hard, that when a cube materialized in front of him; he was at a loss for words as to what to do. He couldn’t shout huzzah, for he knew not what was in front of him and he couldn’t cower because the cube didn’t do anything… it just sat there.

Upon touching it, the child found that the metal was cold, but not painfully so. Just that odd damp cold of a coffee tin that’s been hidden away from the sunlight Gollum-style for lord knows how long.

He thought back to what he had actually wished for… a way out of his predicament. Not unusual for a child who lives with step parents and is getting the Harry Potter-Cinderella treatment. The fact is that Jim and Lana weren’t that bad… it’s just they weren’t that good either. And he felt so out of place. A runaway piece from another jigsaw.

He was a B, occasionally B+, student. But in the fifth grade, As and Bs are nowhere near as important as Zzzzs or the oooohhhs and ahhhhs from the latest video game. When you’re 10, you want that constant wonder that comes not only from seeing Santa at the mall, but from him knowing exactly what you want, bringing to question that fib people are spreading about Santa being fake. If he was fake, how did the “fake” Santa know that all he wanted for Christmas was to see his mom and dad… his real mom and dad, and I dunno… maybe have some cake… and chocolate milk… and ice cream… and a hug. Just one.

Snapping back to his current predicament, Michael continued to look at the cube. Although the edges were pretty sharp, it was due to it being so smooth and so perfect. But again, it didn’t do much of anything. It just sat there. But that was enough. Part of him felt guilty that it appeared because he was wishing instead of having come forth due to prayer. He remembered Mrs. Bartlett and how she always said that you can wish all you like but it’s only through prayer that a miracle can happen. He looked at the cube and wasn’t sure if it was a miracle, but he had done it without a prayer. Was that a bad thing?

A crackle hissed in the air and suddenly static charged all over his body. He felt the hair on his arms stand up and a dot appeared out of nothing. It was a hole… in the middle of the air. And it was growing.

Frozen on the spot, he would have run if his body hadn’t decided to lock up on him. The dot grew larger. His muscles seized harder. And when a 6-foot window into nothing opened, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen stepped through that hole that came from nothing.

She looked around and then down and saw the boy sitting in front of the cube.

“Ah, there it is,” she said casually. She knelt at the boy’s level before she spoke to him. “Thank you, very much… Michael.” When she’d said his name, she’d closed her eyes a moment as if searching for something she’d lost. “This is very important to me. Not sure how it slipped my hands and landed here.”

Lost for words and barely able to breathe, Michael just sat there, staring at the beautiful blonde woman, her short crop blonde hair, her periwinkle eyes, and her kind smile. Again she closed her eyes as if searching for something. “That’s very sad about your parents. But I have something that might help.”

Standing up and leaning her head into the hole that opened to nothing, she called out something Michael couldn’t understand. The boy heard when something was caught and she came back out of the hole with something that looked like a digital clock.

“Open your hands,” she said with the kindest voice and the boy could only obey.

The clock marked 5,000,000 and she shook her head. Pulling out a piece of metal, she touched the surface of it and it came alive with light and color and numbers and symbols and hundreds of things Michael didn’t think metal should do. She pulled out a monocle of sorts and when she put it on, it also came alive with colors and lights. Looking out the bedroom window, she kept tapping and tapping until she pressed two fingers on the screen, spread them out and wiped it all clean.

Looking back at the clock in Michael’s hands, the clock now read 5 and she gave a satisfied smile. “That’s my thanks for having found this,” she said with a smile. She gave his hair a rub and held his cheek for a second or two and Michael couldn’t help but swoon at the beautiful woman. With a chuckle, she got up, walked through the hole, poked her hand out to wave goodbye, and was gone.

Still in shock, he didn’t know what to do with the clock that ticked down in his hand. But when it reached zero, he heard the downstairs doorbell. He heard his stepmother walk down and answer the door. He heard her talking to two people. Steps then came up the stairs and a gentle knock on the door.

“Michael, honey… there’s someone here to see you.”

Later on, Michael would come to accept the simple fact that some prayers need not be said to be answered.