by jcafesin Categories: Authors, Book Review, bsdm, Contemporary Fiction, Dating, ebook, Edgy Chicklit, guitarists, kindle, love, musicians, psychological thriller, Publishing, rock stars, Romance, Romantic Read, Romantic Suspense, Women's Fiction, WritingTags: 5 stars, Amazon Kindle (Gadget), America's Got Talent (TV Program), Android (Software), Barnes & Noble Nook (Computer), books, bsdm, buzz, celebrities, chicklit, ebook, entertainment, ereader, erotica, Famous, Guitarist (Profession), Hollywood, hot sex, ipad, kindle, love, musicians, oprah book club, Reading, recommended read, romance novel, romantic suspense, romantic thriller, Samsung Galaxy Tab (Computer), Singer, superstar, The X Factor (UK) (TV Program), Thriller (Literary Genre), trending, women's fiction, women's read
Paris says: “J. Cafesin does a miraculous job getting you hooked to the story switching between first person and third person, making Reverb feel one hundred percent original and new.
There are so many other things that make Reverb into the perfect novel for any Romance or thriller fan.”
#5Stars #BookReview for Reverb from Paris Carter. #Checkitout and read the review: http://thepariscarter.wordpress.com/2013/12/27/reverb-by-j-cafesin-book-review/
Finally got collection of short stories/YA series up on Amazon: Fractured Fairy Tales of the Twilight Zone! http://www.amazon.com/Fractured-Fairytales-Twilight-Zone-Cafesin-ebook/dp/B00HAUFMN8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1387211661&sr=1-1&keywords=fractured+fairy+tales+of+the+twilight+zone
Most every fine writer (fiction, essays…etc.) I know has a ‘real’ job, the one that pays the rent, the bills, puts the kids through college. Even most ‘bestselling’ authors rarely make enough to support a family. Sorry for the bad news, but it’s a fact. If an author writes full time (and lives a middle-class family lifestyle), they are either financially supported by their ‘real’ job, a partner/spouse, a trust fund or inheritance. Very few [and mostly single] authors are self-supporting through their fine writing alone.
List ten current authors off the top of your head, and they are probably self-supporting. Now, list a hundred contemporary authors, living, working authors you know by name. Most of us can probably only name the first ten, if that. And those are the writers making enough money to put their kids through college. With the tens of thousands of authors out there, good authors, writing great reads, why is that?
I finished my first novel almost eight years ago, and went through the process of contacting agents (before self-publishing was a reality) to represent me. After I carefully researched them, followed all their rules and made sure my query letter was up to their standards, most didn’t bother to respond. The few that did often sent slips of torn paper to “Dear Athor” (no joke, they didn’t even bother to spell check their xerox response), explaining in two lines that they weren’t accepting new clients, or my work didn’t fit their list. The agents who wrote me directly gave me advice on how to make the novel work for them, i.e. take it out of first person, and/or multiple voices, and then resubmit.
I spent a year rewriting the novel to their specifications. When I resubmitted, they didn’t bother to get back to me, or sent me a xerox slip of paper.
I then submitted to publishers, hoping they’d be a better bet than arrogant agents leeching off of authors. Self-publishing was still years off. I went through lists of many publishers before one of the last on my lists wrote me back with an offer. No advance. No marketing. Author’s cut was 20% for hardcover, 50% for an ebook. Publisher promised one editing cycle, to put on a cover of her choice, and hold the rights to my work from the time I signed the contract until two years after the publication date, at which time the rights would go back to me.
I researched her publishing firm and got nothing, positive or negative. I contacted some of her authors (emails she gave me), who all said she didn’t do much, but assured me most publishers don’t. A bestselling author friend published through a major house told me the same about his publisher. I contacted “Author’s Beware,” and asked them if they’d heard of any problems with this publisher. They hadn’t, but told me their information was not kept current for the most part.
Three years after I signed her contract, my indie-publisher emailed me to begin the editing cycle. It lasted about a week, where, through Google Docs for two hours a day she went through the novel and “edited” it with me online. She suggested a few minor changes, took out sections I felt important to the story regardless of my protests, and missed most of the spelling errors. When she sent me the proof version she was to publish, she left out chapters so the novel didn’t make any sense. She balked when I protested the cover “design,” done by her niece who was not a professional, but looking to change her career from a book store clerk to graphic designer. She refused to change the cover when I supplied her a new one done by a pro. She released the novel six months later without notice to anyone but me.
In the two years the novel was for sale through Zumaya Publications, the CEO never showed me sales records after multiple requests. She never paid me. Anything. Ever. But the worse part—this corrupt indie-publisher continues to sell my novel even though our contract has expired over seven months ago and she no longer has the rights to my work. I have a termination contract, as well as the original contract that states our association was over on December 31st, 2012. There is no clause in our contract that allows her to continue selling my work after our contract is terminated. She is breaking the law, and Amazon and other online resellers are not only helping her, but profiting from this illegal activity…
Heard a teen singing in the talent show at the Alameda County Fair last week. Her voice was one of those rare gifts, full of resonance and richness as she sang to the sparse crowd stuffing their faces with fried foods. I was walking past with my family and her voice stopped me, as it did the diners the moment she started singing. Maybe 16, in ripped jeans and a tiny t-shirt, she sat onstage and strummed her acoustic and sang like an angel, everything from Greenday to a few of her own beautifully melodic tunes. I, my kids, my DH, and the entire crowd hushed as we listened to her singing. She captivated all of us for maybe 20 minutes until her set was up. Two older teens took the stage after her, and sounded pretty much like most rockers. Everyone went on with their eating and I walked away with my family to explore the rest of the fair.
Later on at the fair I saw her walking with her family and briefly stopped her to gush over her voice, assure her of her very unique talent. Her proud mama told me her daughter plays all the time, and in fact her daughter agreed music was her passion. Her dad chimed in right then that his daughter was a diligent worker, strove for excellence in most everything she endeavored, and as good at math as at music. He proudly informed me and my family that she was slated to pursue the sciences in college, and his daughter confirmed she had plans to become a doctor.
Been thinking a lot about this girl the last few days. A voice like hers comes along once every million (or more) people. And while the pursuit of music is a risky one, with her voice, success would probably come a lot easier to her than most. In her ripped skinny jeans and tiny T, she had the body, and the stunning face to solidify the star image, making her chances of success in music even better! Yet, by all common wisdom, becoming a doctor not only made her parents beam, but is perceived to be a greater gift to society at large than music.
I’ve been on that page myself. I mean, what is the point of a painting, or a song, or a piece of fine writing anyway? It’s not like curing cancer. A painting sits on the wall. It doesn’t help anyone, cure anything. A song, well, we may sing along with it, lift us up when we’re feeling sad, or share it when we’re happy, but it’s not going to extend our lives, like being a doctor will. And fiction writing, ah, what is that worth other than a few hours of entertainment. It’s not going to change the world or anything, right?
Spent my lifetime searching for my value, if I have any, so very often feeling like I don’t. All I’ve ever really been is an artist (in one form or another, drawing, designing, building, writing). And unless I’ve use these skills in the commercial arena such as advertising or marketing, I’m left with little recognition and even less income when I practice the fine arts. So what the hell good are the arts, anyway?
Society measures our value by our perceived contributions. Doctors, professors, executives make a lot of money by the perception that they give a lot to society as a whole. Value of medical pros is easy to understand, caring for the sick, curing disease. Teachers, who are actually paid quite a bit only working part time yet making full time salaries with benefits and pensions, are not only rewarded financially but sociologically with accolades and kudos from the media, politicians and society at large. High level execs manage businesses that employ many, ostensibly.
Telling people about this teen singer, and asking what is the most contributory path this girl should take—doctor or musician, hands down the answer is “doctor.” Understandably, achieving success through music is difficult at best, but that was not my question. Assuming she could become successful with music, most people still insisted a doctor saving lives, potentially curing cancer was of greater benefit to society. Me, too, until asking my infinitely wise 11 year old daughter this question.
“She should do whatever her passion is,” she told me on the way to drop her off for a week at Girl Scout camp last weekend.
“What if she has a passion for both?” I asked. “I mean, if she could potentially cure cancer, wouldn’t that be of greater value to the world then music?”
“It’s her choice because both are equally valuable. Music can stop wars, soothe feelings, be shared across the globe to build bridges between people where there were none before. I mean, look at all the concerts that raise money for hurricane victims, or money for medicine for poor countries. Music helps me deal with my feelings everyday, keeps me in touch with what I’m feeling, reminds me I’m not the only one feeling like I do. It connects me to everyone, knowing we’re feeling basically the same things.”
Every part of me was humbled by her insight. Not only was she validating the Arts, my daughter was validating me.
“Sure, curing cancer is important. It’s why I want to be a doctor. And I love music too, but I’m not great at it, and probably never will be. But that girl at the fair was, is. And if she can turn the world on, like she did us, and all those other people sitting there, than maybe she should do music instead, no matter what her dad said or wants her to be.”
Hawk wanted the rabbit to present to a mate. Megan wanted her husband Mitch to wait and talk to her instead of going to work. Neither got what they wanted, but both Hawk and Megan learned a valuable life lesson…
New one, short story, 9pgs. Complete on Scribd: