The Book’s Cover

We’ve all heard, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Yet, we do it all of the time.  We can’t help it.  We glance at something - book, television show, person - and immediately we form an opinion based on what we see.  Sometimes that opinion is based on what we already think about something.  Homeless people are lazy, moochers.  Gang members are cold-hearted killers, and preachers are sacrificing saints leading you to the gates of Heaven.  In some cases, that’s quite true.  But not all.  Not by a long shot.

Authors are told to pay special attention to their book covers.  It’s the first opportunity a writer has to catch a reader’s attention and make them pick up the book.  You need to pay attention to the title, make it catch, and then have an image that entices.  You won’t be able to hook them with that first page you spent quite a bit of time on if you can’t get them to pick up the book.

The Mess Welcomes Tess Stenson

Tess Stenson is the author of Gatekeepers of the Docks, "a comedy fantasy about music, apathy, conspiracy and death" as well as her blog Dances with Squirrels.  A twenty something residing in London, she studied Palaeobiology and Evolution at Portsmouth University before deciding it was time to stop chasing a career in IT and follow her dream of writing. Below you will find her article, which she contributed to British Hedgehogs Awareness Week and I know you'll be touched and relate as we all have that special animal, which touches our hearts. For me, it's the platypus as he seems as messed up as I am.

So, sit back with your coffee and enjoy Tess's unique voice and style and be sure to visit her blog. Oh, and leave her some encouraging comments below. I'm sure she'll respond.

Thank you, Tess, for being the first of our Saturday guests.

The New Honk

She came out of her bedroom, straightening her outfit, eager for her date that night.  She practically skipped across the living room floor.  “See everyone later!”

“Wait! Where are you going?” I closed my book and glanced at the girls. They just glanced back, just as confused as I.

“I told you. I’m going to the movies. You said it was okay.” Her face held that frightened look as if I had just cancelled her night with my faulty memory.

“I know. Where are you going right now? I haven’t heard the doorbell ring.”

“Oh,” she looked relieved. “Sorry. He texted me that he was here. Have a good night. See you when I get home.” And she inched her way to the front door.

She didn’t get far. Our daughter doesn’t come when someone whistles, texts, or honks. She is not a pet. If I ever catch my sons doing it to their dates, I’ll personally take them to the woodshed for a lesson on chivalry. It’s simply rude and not the way men should treat a lady. It’s not the way anyone should treat another person. Period.

Their Problems are Big

The 8-year old was crying as if someone had told her that Santa Claus wasn’t real.  Tears streamed down her cheeks as sobs heaved her chest.  It took quite a bit of time and holding to get her to calm down long enough to find out what had rocked her world.

“I wanted to play with that doll.  I never get to play with that doll.  She won’t let me.”

I just stared at her, eyebrows raised in shocked disbelief.  “No one hurt you?”  She shook her head.  “You’re not bleeding?  No broken bones?  No one died?”  Again, she shook her head.  “You’re crying because you weren’t allowed to play with a doll?”

“I really like that doll!”

I stared at her, dumbfounded.  She was giving an Oscar performance over a doll that wasn’t even hers.  “You’re grounded.  Go to your room.”

To All the Moms

My parents and I

Yesterday was Mother’s Day here in the U.S.  A quick glance at Wikipedia reveals that it began in the United States in 1908 in Grafton, West Virginia.  Anna Jarvis held a memorial for her mother and then began to make it a nationally recognized holiday, which occurred in 1914.   Other attempts had been made, of course, such as the one in the 1870’s by Julia Ward Howe.  Yet, Jarvis claimed all the credit the article said.

However, she then grew disgusted with it, because as with everything, big business stepped in and took over.  As Linus said about Christmas, Mother’s Day had become too commercial.

And it’s only become worse.

Be Our Guest

The girls and I are social creatures.  When we aren’t joining others on the town for dinner or dancing, our home is abuzz with activity from small gatherings around the grill to elaborate themed parties with costumes.  Every weekend has us in the company of friends.

Since we share so many of our weekends as well as so much of our lives, I wanted to share The Mess with you, as well.  In our home, we have an open door policy where everyone is welcome.  I would like to open the door to the Mess and invite you in.  Saturdays will be our day for Guest Bloggers.  Join me on my porch and have your say.  Would you like to discuss your book with my readers?  Now’s your chance.  Have an essay or article to share?  Feel free to tell us what’s on your mind.  This is your opportunity to speak.

Why Be a Guest Blogger?

Besides being a fun experience, guest blogging can introduce you to whole new audience.  It gives you exposure that was unavailable to you before, and really, isn’t that what we, as writers, want?  As you provide links back to your site or to your books, it will, hopefully, gain you a wider audience, which translates into more sales.

Furthermore, it helps you build relationships with other bloggers, I don’t know about you, but I enjoy helping my friends to achieve their dreams, and I am more likely to go out of my way for a friend than a stranger.  By guest blogging, you help solidify those relationships, and they will help you in building your platform.

It’s also a great tool to assist search engines in finding you.   The more links that lead back to your site, the more Google and others will pick you out in a search.

A Few Rules

There’s only one - do not bash or slander a specific individual.  Anyone who has read the Mess, and hopefully you have, knows that there is really no rhyme or reason to my posts.  I talk about family, writing, and the frustrating things about life.  Therefore, feel free to offer your own take on life or anything else you wish.  How do you want to introduce yourself to my readers?  Make your first impression a positive one.

What To Do

Guest posts appear on Saturdays.  I’ll only post one per Saturday, so that you get the spotlight and will share it with my social media friends for the next week.  Let me know that you’re interested and what you would like to write about and we’ll select a date for posting.

Then it’s simple.  Send me your article and any pictures and links you would like to include, making sure you have the right to post the pictures.  I’ll take care of the rest and your article will be up by noon eastern standard time.

So, be our guest and share your story with the Mess.  The door is open and we’d love to have you.

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Email me if interested in being a guest at The Mess that Is Me.

It’s a Career, Protect It

I'm disturbed enough already

“Hey, I need you to run a few errands for me tomorrow,” she said as she handed me a four page list.

I didn’t take it. “I don’t have time tomorrow. I’m working.”

“You sit on the porch all day, drinking coffee and smoking cigars. This won’t take long.”

Okay, to be honest, that conversation never took place. The girls know better. Besides, I screw up most errands anyway, so they prefer to do them themselves. However, not everyone understands. The only way to get them to take me seriously is to take it seriously myself. I have to think of my writing as a career and not a hobby. Furthermore, it’s a fulltime gig and not a part time thing I do during the commercial breaks of Castle.

Zoning Out

“What are you doing?”

I glanced back at her, confused at the question.  Wasn’t it obvious what I was doing?  “I’m working.”

She shook her head.  “No you weren’t.  That pen hasn’t moved in twenty minutes.  You’re supposed to be writing, but all I see is you sitting there staring at the Butterfly garden.”

“Right.  I was working a scene out in my head.”

“You looked like you were zoning out.”

“Writing looks like that sometimes.”  She stared at me a moment longer before giving up and going inside to allow me to “work.”