Marketing a Debut Novel Pt 3: Life & Death of a Salesman

Kindle Countdown Deal & Promotion Sites

 

Last week, I talked about deciding which platforms to publish on and why I enrolled in KDP Select. Another reason I wanted to try Select was the promotional tools it offers exclusively to Select authors.

A sale is a great way to tempt readers into trying a new author. It’s a tricky proposition, though. Finding the right price point, timing, and promoting the sale are pieces of a puzzle which is missing the picture on the front of the box—and a four year old likely fed some of the pieces to the dog. Corner pieces. %*#&$! It’s a lot of trial and error.

KDP Select offers three promotional tools: Free Days, Kindle Countdown Deal, and Ads.
(I’ll address Ads next week, because they’re a whole other can of worms.)

Free days can be useful, because everyone likes free stuff, right? However, they’re not particularly useful for debut authors. For an author with a series or backlist, offering one book for free can entice readers to try it and then buy other books. But debut authors got nothin’. We’re standing there with our one pitiful book, saying, “Sorry, still working on the next one.” The reader probably won’t remember us by the time the next book comes out. We gave away our work for little to nothing in return. So I don’t recommend using free days unless you can point readers to another book they’ll pay for.

Kindle Countdown Deal, on the other hand, can be a great tool for debuts. A discount means less risk for readers with a new author, but you still get some royalties. And, if your regular price is 2.99+, a Deal still nets 70% royalties, instead of 35% (you only get 35% if you just drop the regular price under 2.99.)

You can only use it once during a 90 day Select enrollment. It can run from 1 to 7 days and have up to three price increments. Amazon shows the regular price so readers know it’s on sale and a countdown clock, which can create a sense of urgency. So it might look like this:
Regular Price: $2.99, 3 day sale

Day One: 99 cents and the clock shows 1 day, 12 hours until price increases to 1.99.
Day Two: 1.99 and the clock shows 1 d, 12 h until sale ends and price goes back to 2.99.

I tried a 7 day Deal the weekend after Thanksgiving, with hopes of catching some of the Black Friday/Cyber Weekend frenzy. It goes without saying my goal was a big bump during the sale. But I also hoped for residual sales over the holiday season, in part due to an expected increase in ranking (bestseller list) and better visibility.

I set up the sale, created ads on various outlets, and scheduled listings with several promotion sites in advance. In addition to my advertising of the sale, Amazon lists Deals in their own search category and promotes them—unfortunately, they don’t offer any analytics for sales that come from that specific page/promotion.

In the weeks leading up to the sale, I averaged a little over 1 sale/day and a little over 1 “sale”/day for KU (based on number of pages read, where the equivalent of one book read actually nets higher royalties than 1 regular sale for my price point and pages.) So I was at about 2.5 books per day. My ranking was hovering between #20k and 100k in overall Kindle sales and around #300-5000 in my genre categories (which isn’t bad, especially since my genres aren’t obscure ones.)

I used 2 increments, with the initial price at 99 cents and an increase to 1.99 halfway through the sale. Here’s what happened:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sale worked well, but not fantastic. I got a great bump in sales and ranking, but not quite as high as I expected. During the sale, I netted 232 sales. The KU benefit was more residual, since it’s based on when they read, not when they download. In the month after the sale, I ended up with no increase in sales over the previous month, but a slight increase in KU reads (1.2 books per day to 1.7). My ranking increased significantly, up to #1200 in Kindle sales and #12, 19, and 62 in each genre category. But I didn’t break the top 100 overall or top ten in genre, as I’d hoped.

I suspect timing was the issue. Because the sale ran over Black Friday/Cyber Monday, while Amazon put almost ALL books on sale, I was competing against other books on sale. It simply couldn’t compete against the big names that were also on sale and getting bumps in ranking. I’d failed to consider that competition. So when I do another Deal, I’ll try to schedule it for a quieter period when competition won’t be as strong. (Another tip is to not do a sale during a big event, like the Super Bowl, as people are occupied elsewhere and not shopping.)

As for the promotion sites I used, I booked promotions 2-3 weeks ahead of time.
Paid: Books Butterfly, Ereader News, Booktastik, BettyBookFreak
Free: eBookLister, Choosy Bookworm, and Fussy Librarian.

The only site that seemed to drive significant sales was Books Butterfly—it is expensive ($50* and up), but it did pay for itself. They guarantee a certain number of sales and offer a pro-rated refund if you don’t hit that threshold (there are restrictions on this, though--read the fine print.)  They also offer special analytics that are helpful. For me, they were well worth the investment.
*UPDATE: I went back to schedule a new promo with Books Butterfly and found, to my disappointment, they have raised their prices while lowering the number of guaranteed sales. I'm more luke-warm in my enthusiasm now. The ROI is much more iffy at their new prices, because unless the sales nearly triple their guarantee, the promo won't pay for itself. It's entirely possible for the sales to do that--overall mine were at least double--but it's a very thin line . There's also still the ranking benefit to consider, which is worth a lot if it hits the right level. But...where'd I leave my waders?

Ereader News is also expensive ($35 and up), but I saw little or no sales I could attribute to it. I wouldn’t use them again. Booktastik and Betty were inexpensive ($8-10); if they drove any sales, it was a small amount, but since they’re cheap, I might use them again. EBookLister had no appreciable impact, but since it’s free, no harm no foul. Again, any of the sites’ effectiveness may have been limited due to the timing of the sale, but I think that’s minimal. Some promotional sites do better in different genres, I believe, so do your research.

[Choosy Bookworm and Fussy Librarian didn’t have available slots during the sale, so CB didn’t run one, and FL ran it after the sale. FL had no impact when it did run. If you choose to use them, you’ll need to schedule well in advance (ie at least a month.)]

The overall ROI was around 60%, which is a very good ROI in absolute terms. That doesn’t include time invested, however, and I spent a lot of time on the sale, creating graphics and posting for the promotion on social media. And while I loved the sales, missing the goal for ranking and exposure was disappointing.

I think a more effective use of the Deal is shorter length and few increments (3-4 days, one increment) and better timing. I intend to use the Deal again shortly, and hope for even better results. We’ll see….

Next week, I’ll discuss a Goodreads Giveaway and the pay-per-click ad options on Goodreads, Amazon, and Facebook. Keep the waders handy and order an extra truckload of wine.

 

 

Marketing a Debut Novel: Bring Wine, Waders, and an Iron Will

The launch of When Doves Fly, my debut Historical Fiction/Western, has been a whirlwind, and I’m still a bit dizzy. I discovered that authors, especially indie authors, are no longer just writers. We must wear many hats to ensure success, and my most recent chapeau is that of Book Marketer Extraordinaire. I’m certainly no expert, but I have gained some knowledge, and I’ll explain the different options I've tried and detail my experiences (and mistakes) through a series of posts. I hope it sheds light on the process and makes it a little less overwhelming for those learning how to pimp their wares.
 

 

I immersed myself in research about how to sell books. It’s involved a great deal of time, frustration, and strong cocktails. The first thing I learned is there’s little reliable information available for newbie authors. Few authors are willing to let others in on what’s worked for them—or if they are, they write a ten page book, charge $10 for it, and proceed to tell you that you need to invest in a sandwich board and a bell. Take any advice you glean from some random “bestselling” author who “sold” eight million books in a day with a huge block of salt (chances are their rank lasted for 5 minutes on Amazon in an obscure subgenre that contains 5 books, and the "sales" were free downloads.)

Much of the advice bandied about is contradictory; use Facebook, Facebook sucks; offer a giveaway, giveaways don’t work; make your book free, free books are bad. There’s also a lot of downright false information and a good number of people advocating unethical practices contrary to various platforms’ rules, either due to ignorance or lack of integrity. Familiarize yourself with the guidelines for each platform and follow them. Don’t take shortcuts or shoot yourself in the foot by breaking the rules—it’s not worth it. Wading through all of this is exhausting, and it often feels like you’re no further ahead than when you started. But if you educate yourself, you’ll be in a position to take advantage of opportunity.

The second thing I learned is that there’s no magic bullet or formula that will work for every author or book. We must tailor our approaches to genre, audience, platform, budget, time, moon phases, and planetary alignment. A debut author with no backlist will need a different approach than an author with ten books. Marketing plans need to be individualized and flexible. I adapted strategies to meet my needs, and you should do the same. My novel is a debut that straddles genres, and it’s not in a “hot” genre, so I’ve had to find ways around those hurdles. A YA author will typically have more options and need to use different platforms, or an obscure genre will need to target much tighter and be able to focus resources rather than spreading them around. You’ll need to analyze your genre and audience to find the best ways to reach them. Your readers’ habits will determine which strategies work best for your book. So your first task is to figure out who your readers are, where they hang out and look for books, their spending habits, and their underwear sizes. Some of the answers may surprise you.

Then, decide your goal before implementing your marketing plan. Some marketing will focus on long term results, and some is more about short term. One strategy might gain exposure, while another will produce sales. Some tools require more time or money, or both; figure out which resources you have and focus on the methods that utilize those.

In the three months since the launch, I’ve worked on both exposure and sales, and found methods that work and ones that don’t. In short, Amazon ads produced the most sales; Goodreads ads and a giveaway produced good exposure and some reviews. Book bloggers, especially a team of reviewers, are excellent advocates, but finding the right ones is tricky. Enrollment in KindleUnlimited was a good decision; the Kindle Countdown deal, while not as successful as I hoped, did give a good bump in sales. Some promotion sites I used during the Countdown deal had a good ROI (Return On Investment,) some did not. Facebook ads were a miserable failure—but I concede that for certain genres, with a lot of work, they could be successful. However, I don’t believe they offer a good ROI overall. Of course, all of these require a strong presence on social media, and it goes without saying that your success will depend a lot on the quality of your book, cover, and blurb.

Stay tuned over the next month for the nitty gritty and feel free to ask questions.


ON TO PART 2

 

Find Lauren's book on Amazon:

US 

http://amzn.to/1Vtd7ZF

UK

http://amzn.to/1VrD0E0

What to do While You Wait for that Other Bird

Great news! When Doves Fly will be on a Kindle Countdown Deal starting on Turkey Day. So while the bird cooks--the other bird!--or during those long drives over the river and through the woods to Grandma's house, you can read a book reviewers are calling "gritty, complex storytelling" and both "timeless and fresh." Works on planes, trains, automobiles, wagons, and even horses.


Amazon:
http://amzn.to/1Vtd7ZF
Amazon UK
http://amzn.to/1hMaMX6
Print
http://amzn.to/1Lr7B3p
https://www.createspace.com/5754093

To request a signed print copy, use the contact form here:
http://www.authorlaurengregory.com/Contact.html

 

 

Excerpt from When Doves Fly by Lauren Gregory

 

Two horses occupied the pen, and both looked used up.

The livery operator, even harder used than his horses, eyed Lily with an arched brow. He wore chaps molded to his legs and a cowboy hat with holes. Tanned rifts covered his face and shifted in strange patterns as he talked.

“Where ya headed?”

“Cheyenne,” she lied.

“Where’s yer men folk?”

“I’ll be making this trip alone.”

“Missy, that’s a long ride. Oughtta at least wait for a party goin’ out.”

Lily set her jaw. “I’ll worry about that. How much for that one?” She pointed to the less-swaybacked roan.

“That’s Charlie. Let you have him for $50.00. Can you even heft a saddle on yer own?”

Her lips pursed, and she walked to a rack loaded with saddles. Struggling, she lifted one over her head. “Satisfied?”

The horseman shrugged. “All right. But ain’t no way you can make it all the way to Cheyenne on yer lonesome. Bandits roamin’ all over now, even if the ride don’t kill ya.”

“Will you sell me the horse or not?”

He opened a packet from his vest and stuffed a plug of tobacco in his cheek. “I reckon.”

“Do you have any mules?”

“For what?” His eyes narrowed.

She tossed him a withering look. “A pack mule, of course.”

His gaze wandered. “Nope. No mules.”

Lily followed his glance and walked to the corner of the building. Several mules munched hay at a paddock trough. She rounded on the man.

“Just what are those? Pigs?”

“Bad enough if I sell you the horse, but that’ll only getcha in so much trouble. I ain’t sendin’ you out on the trail with two animals you can’t handle.”

“Then I’ll have to find someone who wants to make money. Thank you and good day.”

He stuck his leg out, blocking her attempt at a huffing exit. “Listen, missy. You don’t look as if you been doin’ much trail ridin’. I’ll allow you might handle the horse on yer own, mostly ‘cause he’s too old and tired to do much but eat. But a jack’s a different animal, and tryin’ to lead one while you ride ain’t easy, even for trail men with some miles under their belts. What do you need to pack, anyhow?”

Lily pressed her lips together to stop their trembling. She wanted to tell him to mind his business but lifted her chin. “Goods.”

“Er … you can buy goods in Cheyenne, reckon? It’s a bonafide city these days. Stores and everything.”

“Cheyenne isn’t my final destination. Will you sell me a mule, or are you going to spend all day asking questions?” Her nails dug into her palms.

He looked her up and down. “I can’t do it. Take my advice: don’t try it.”

She fumed but changed her tack and offered a sweet smile. “What if I take a hired man? Can I, please, have a mule then?”

“Do I look that brainless?”

“No, truly, I promise. You’re right; I shouldn’t do it on my own. I’ll hire someone. Do you know where I can find a reliable hand?”

The horseman considered her and wagged a finger. “I’ll give ya the address. And I’ll check up on it, too.”

She paid him $95.00 for the horse, mule, and a saddle. As he saddled the horse, he looked at her skirt.

“You know how to ride a western?”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “Of course.”

When he finished, she led the animals away, with no intention of hiring anyone.

 

 

The Caskets -- When Doves Fly Excerpt

In case you missed it, here's one of my favorite scenes from When Doves Fly, my debut #histfic novel set in a Colorado gold rush town in the 1870s.

If you want more, it's available on Amazon in ebook and print!

*  *  *  *  *

 

The caskets lay side by side. Charlotte stood in the parlor doorway, a doll dangling from one hand. She had tried to make herself enter, but her feet wouldn’t move. The black crepe over the windows rippled like ghostly shadows. A glimpse of pallid skin peeked from each coffin.

 

What if they wake? Maggie, their cook, said people sometimes came back to life to claw their way out of their caskets.

 

Charlotte wanted to touch them, to check for life, but a vague fear stopped her. She stayed rooted, cold bare toes on the threshold, eyes fixed on the open boxes, waiting for the children to move.

 

If only Mother would come down. Then I could go in.

 

Charlotte had tried to rouse her mother, but her parents’ door remained locked, and no one answered. Only weak cries had come from the room in the two days since Peter and Cecilia died.

 

Mother had fallen sick, too, but the cholera kept her bedridden for just a day. She’d devoted the next two days to nursing Peter and Cecilia—Charlotte had felt fine. In her delirium, Mother blamed herself for taking the children to the fair, but Charlotte had been the one who pestered until she agreed.

 

If I hadn’t, Peter and Sissy wouldn’t be in caskets. Once a middle child, now an only.

 

After they died, Mother locked her door, and Charlotte hadn’t seen her since. Maggie had arranged the wake and the coming funeral but went home sick—was it only the day before?—after assuring Charlotte that Papa would return home from his business trip any time. Charlotte waited all night, but Papa hadn’t come.

 

Something moved in Peter’s coffin. Charlotte’s eyes widened, and she squeezed Dolly’s arm. A fly drifted from the casket and landed again. She relaxed and released her breath. And waited.

 

The back door banged open. Charlotte didn’t move—she couldn’t. Her limbs had turned to stone.

 

“Eliza!” Papa’s voice rang in the silence. “Maggie?” Footsteps clattered on the wood floor until he reached the hall rug. “Charlotte! Where’s your mother? Why are the drapes …?”

 

His hand fell on her shoulder.

 

She tried to speak, but her cracked lips only trembled.

 

A sick moan came from him, and he pushed past her into the room with the caskets and flies. He bent over the bodies and groaned.

 

“No, no, no,” he chanted. “Peter … Sissy … not both ….”

 

Tears stung Charlotte’s eyes.

 

Papa whirled on her. “Where is your mother?” More a roar than a question.

 

Her body shook. Why is he angry with me?

 

He ran past her and thundered up the stairs. Banging on a door. “Eliza … Eliza!” More heavy footsteps, and he jerked Charlotte by the arm. “Is your mother sick? Where is Maggie? Or Cooper?” He bent, eyes wild, and shook her until her teeth chattered. “Charlotte, answer me!”

 

Sound came from her mouth, but no words.

 

Shoving her aside, he raced upstairs. Yelling and rattling the door as Charlotte collapsed in the parlor doorway.

 

“Papa?”

 

The hall remained quiet. She fell asleep crying, clutching Dolly close.

 

 

 

 

 

New Book Release!

I may or may not have peed my pants today. But I will be changing them, rest assured.

One year, ten months, fourteen days. It doesn't sound like that long, but it's taken a lifetime to reach this milestone. This is what I always wanted. Now I've got it.

On Amazon
http://amzn.to/1jwZ7NC

Sneak Peek at When Doves Fly

An excerpt from Chapter One of When Doves Fly, a new historical fiction novel set in 1870s Colorado, coming September 30, 2015:

Lily Wright departed the train before the other passengers, gripping her carpet bag tight, eager to disappear. The bell clanged their arrival as the train rumbled to a stop, and voices rose over the hiss of steam engines as travelers greeted family and friends. Lily had no one to greet, yet every face resembled her husband’s and filled her with cold dread. Throwing peeks over her shoulder, she dodged and weaved until she found the station agent.

“Where’s the nearest hotel and stagecoach, sir?”

“Welcome to Denver, miss.” He jerked his thumb to the east, beyond the depot. “Plenty hotels within a few blocks, they can get you to a coach.”

She nodded and proceeded inside. People, suitcases, and trunks littered the station. She ducked her head and wound around them. Hair prickled on her neck. Convinced eyes had followed her, she turned, but no one seemed interested. Her heart pounded faster as she skirted the ticket line and burst through the doors to the street.

Wagons lumbered past in the waning evening light. A river of people flowed around her—men in work clothes or suits and bowlers, women in walking dresses with pert bustles—while she stood in front of the depot and searched building signs.

She wanted a smaller place, inexpensive and inconspicuous. She’d thought she would feel safe once she reached Denver, but her anxiety had grown stronger with every mile as the train chugged across the prairie.

Lily negotiated the wide, muddy road with a stream of pedestrians toward a cross-street lined with tall brick and clapboard buildings. When the group reached the other side and went their separate ways, she started up the narrower street, scanning the buildings and stopping at each corner to survey the side roads. After several blocks, a squat, wooden structure with a large sign on the roof drew her attention: The Broadwell House. Her pace picked up.

The noise and chaos fell behind as the traffic and crowds thinned. The buildings cast long shadows over the road, and the mountain sunset blared bright color on the facing side.

Her apprehension dimmed outside the crush of people, and exhaustion weighed her shoulders down. The hotel beckoned. Her hand ached, and she shifted the small suitcase to her other hand as she passed an alley.

An arm shot from the narrow void between buildings and snatched the bag from her fingers. She gasped, but shock throttled a scream in her throat. She swung toward the breach but caught only a glimpse of a darker shadow darting away. Her feet moved a few yards into the alley, but the gloom stopped her.

Wait, what if I catch up with him? Who knows what he might do.

She spun and darted into the road.

“Thief! Help!”              

The street had emptied. The nearest figure, a block away, kept moving in the opposite direction. She opened her mouth to shout again but closed it with a snap.

Heavens, what am I thinking? I can’t get involved with the law here. But my bag ….

She turned back to the alley, but nothing moved, the shadow gone.

“No!”

She stomped her foot and flapped her arms. The bag. Everything. The money! This cannot be happening.

Paralyzed by frustration, Lily couldn’t fathom what to do next. The sun dropped below the skyline. Fear overcame shock. When full dark hit, the street would only present more danger.

She scuttled toward the Broadwell House, where she walked to the clerk’s desk and pulled a purse from her skirt pocket.

“One night, please.”

The clerk flicked her eyes up from a newspaper. “$3.00. No visitors.” She returned her attention to her paper.

Lily dug the money from her purse. The remaining paltry bills and coins worsened the roiling in her stomach. She tucked the pouch back in her pocket and laid three gold coins in the woman’s outstretched hand.

“Up the stairs, on the left.” The clerk slid a key across the desk.

Relieved the woman hadn’t indicated a guest log, Lily snagged the key and hurried to the second floor. She let herself in, slammed the door, and turned the lock.

Minimal furniture filled the modest, tidy room. She bypassed a table with an oil lamp and matches and fell onto the bed. Burying her face in the pillow, she sobbed.

I can’t stay here. He’ll find me here, I just know it. I have to make it to a more remote place. But what will I do when I get there? I can’t start a store with no money. She pummeled the mattress. It’s not fair. All I want is freedom to do as I wish, independence with no one deciding where I can go or how I must live, the chance to be my own. Is that so much to ask?

Dark settled, but she didn’t drift off for hours.

 

 

 

 

 

© 2015 Lauren Gregory All Rights Reserved.

It's Here! Cover & Release Date

First, the good news. The cover for When Doves Fly is ready, and I'm in love.

Next, the great news. The release date is set for September 30, 2015 for the ebook.

The long road leads to some amazing places.





When Doves Fly Book Cover

© 2015 Lauren Gregory All rights reserved.




 

 

Learning to Write

At eleven, I won a district-wide writing competition. First place out of 1,800 sixth graders. I still have the piece. I don't recall the process or feeling of writing it, but I remember the feeling of winning. I felt smart. I felt significant. I felt listened to.

In those days, I sought approval from adults because I didn't get it from peers, and the adults had listened. That flaw of approval-seeking, and others, led down some unfortunate paths. My fears stole that sense of significance while I sought approval in ways that didn't succeed from people who didn't matter. My teens and early twenties taught me harsh truths and suffocating falsehoods.

I learned drawing attention meant drawing criticism and scorn. I learned there's always someone waiting to drag you down. I learned to fade into the background to avoid disapproval.

I learned smart women weren't nearly as worthy as fun, pretty, friendly women (let alone men)--and that the former is mutually exclusive from the latter. I learned you could only be one thing, and that as a woman, smart would always lose. I learned smart women are challenged and belittled, and outspoken women are bitch and overbearing. I learned to shut up.

I learned to only present the good stuff. If it wasn't perfect, it wasn't good enough. And in that case, well, what was the use in trying? I'd never be perfect. I'd never be smart enough or pretty enough or good enough to matter. I learned to quit trying.

I decided I had no imagination, no creativity, nothing important to say, so anything I wrote would be stupid, vapid crap. I told myself I wasn't "inspired." I wasn't deep or insightful or funny. What if I offended someone? What if "they" didn't approve? I didn't want to be wrong. I didn't want people to pull back the curtain and see an imposter. If I made up a story, if I created something, it would be all my fault if it sucked.

After my son was born, I decided to accept another truth. I'd failed to learn all of the things I wanted to teach him: confidence, using his strengths, always being willing to try, accepting failure, to never stop learning, and above all, to never let anyone else decide who he should be or silence him.

Hypocrisy.

At 39, I woke on a cold November morning, sat at my desk, and started writing. It wasn't perfect—good grief, the suck reigned supreme—but I wrote for sixteen hours. Why? It wasn't some supernatural, angels-singing moment of inspiration or a lightning bolt best-story-ever idea. It wasn't the story.

I no longer wanted to fade into the background. I was sick of letting the fear win. I refused to be quiet about things that excite me, scare me, and anger me any longer, and it didn't matter if anyone approved. I wanted to smash those falsehoods I'd learned.

I have excuses, like everyone. I'm a full-time single mom, and I work two jobs and homeschool my son. I have a house to maintain and family obligations. Health issues abound. Chronic pain cripples me, and painkillers make me stupid but don't alleviate the pain. Just after I finished the first draft, I endured emergency surgery that almost killed me and required months of recuperation. Those things slowed me down, but I kept learning and writing.

I studied art and craft, worked hard, and finished the manuscript. I learned to write well, not just spit out thoughts. I learned grammar and punctuation, those technical rules many disdain. I learned how to write with emotion and clarity. After remembering that I had a voice, I worked on learning how to use it.

Why—how—did I write a novel? I decided. That's all. No magical breakthrough, just a decision to use my voice and speak my mind, imperfections and all. That decision—which I still have to make every time I write—is exciting and terrifying. It took years of fighting fears and searching for confidence to make that first decision, to learn new truths and refuse to accept falsehoods.

Learning to write, both art and craft, is about learning how to connect with strangers. It's learning style and mechanics to create clarity and meaning without losing the story. It's learning to accept criticism along with approval, being willing to have our ideas challenged, and reveling in the fact that the learning is never finished. It's learning to use our voice, and it's never easy.

We all have fears and hopes, and we all need someone we can relate to, who has those same fears and hopes. No matter who you are or where you've been, someone out there can relate. If you tell a story with a message--no matter how simple or trite or crazy that message may seem to you when the demons of doubt rise in the dark hours--and tell it well, it will speak to someone. It won't connect with everyone, and not everyone will approve. But that's okay. It probably won't change the world, but maybe it will change one person, and it will change you. It will give you a voice.

At 39, I learned I have something to say and someone out there needs to hear it. When will you learn it.

The End

"The End."

I believe those two words, at this moment, hold more emotion and meaning for me than any others I've written. They represent time and energy expended. They carry the weight of my expectations and my fears. Those two words mean the end and the beginning.

I finished my manuscript today--well, I finished it at 5:43 a.m., after writing furiously all night. After one year and one week, my creative endeavor is complete. I have told the story.

The work is not done, of course. I still must revise and edit, tweak and adjust, worry and massage the words I've written. The story is not ready for the world yet, and making it ready will be no small feat in itself. More time, more energy, more expectations, and more fear. But I have told the story.

When I started telling this story, I had a plan. The plan involved writing a book in about two or three months. After health issues intruded, I went to plan B. Six months. Writer's block. Nine months. Work. Ten months. Health issues. Twelve months. Things got in the way, and I got in the way. Maintaining momentum is hard, especially when you aren't really sure you have what it takes. The initial excitement loses out to monotony, focus fades, and doubts creep in. I'm actually surprised I found the determination to fight through. I have persevered and told the story.

The end of the story means I have accomplished something new and know now I can accomplish much more. The End means far more than I imagined those two words could.