Tag Archives: coming-of-age

#Reviews: The Good, Bad, and Ugly

REVIEWS: The Good, Bad, and Ugly
Your opinion counts—especially with Independent Authors AKA #IndieAuthors—those of us who choose to write and to publish our own work. I read every review I receive, and I take them seriously. What the reader says matters to me.
What is even more important for the reader to understand is that reviews and word-of-mouth can make or break an Indie book. We swim, or drown, in an ocean of books. creeping fog on ocean
Between 600,000 and 1 million new books are published every year. With limited advertising budgets and no large house to create “buzz” for us, we have to depend on rankings, especially rankings on Amazon, to have our books placed far enough toward the top of the queue that readers who are randomly searching–say ‘mystery’–will happen upon our books. Two ways to get good rankings on Amazon is to either sell a lot of books every day and/or amass at least twenty-five 4 and 5 star reviews.
Unfortunately, Indie authors also face the terrible monsters of the deep. Beneath the choppy waters of the ocean of books lurk Review Trolls. Here is a rare photo of a Review Troll, note the wide open mouth getting ready to gobble up a Indie Author: Sea Monster Yawning
Review trolls are people who purchase a book, keep it a day or two and then return the book without reading it. That person can now post an Amazon VERIFIED purchase review. The reviews that trolls publish are always meant to wreck an author’s ratings. Like black hat hackers, review trolls are about unnecessary destruction. Their ratings, however, will pull down the ranking of the book that they attack unless that book has enough 4 and 5 star ratings to successfully counterbalance the trolls’ attacks.
With the challenges involved in getting very busy people to write and post reviews and fending off troll attacks, Indie authors face advertisers who won’t even consider their book for their publications and email blasts unless the book has at least ten 4 and 5 star reviews on AMAZON! They don’t count Barnes and Noble or Smashwords reviews. Everyone knows that advertising is one way to get your book in front of a larger audience. Classic chicken and egg situation. Advertising could result in more reviews, but you can’t advertise with the really good advertisers without ten reviews.
You see, a reader’s opinion really does matter, especially to an Indie author. The next time you finish a book, please consider zipping over to Amazon and quickly posting an honest review.
For me, and for many Indie authors who put in incredibly long hours, we thank you!
AMAZON REVIEW EXCERPTS FROM READERS:
STREET HARVEST (SPECIAL CRIMES TEAM, SECOND BOOK. ALL BOOKS IN THIS SERIES CAN BE READ OUT OF SEQUENCE) Pat Rummenie says:
Everyone with a social conscience who also loves a good mystery should read this well written book.
OLD WOMAN GONE (SPECIAL CRIMES TEAM, THIRD BOOK) Amazon Customer says:
The mixture of police procedures and Native American spiritualism are needed to solve the crime and rescue the two women. The author knows the setting well and uses it to enhance the story.
BACKLASH! (SPECIAL CRIMES TEAM, FOURTH BOOK) Coppercreek says:
I love crime novels, and this really hit the spot.
RUN OR DIE (STAND-ALONG MYSTERY/THRILLER) KtHack8 says:
I highly recommend this to anyone who wants a story about life and finding the will to overcome adversity.
RUN OR DIE (STAND-ALONE MYSTERY/THRILLER) Denise Gayl says:
Thought provoking about the injustices of bigotry and racism, and the ray of sunshine that there are people “out there” willing to accept, love, and help others even though their lifestyles are unlike their own. Well done.
HARD ROAD HOME (LITERARY, COMING-OF-AGE) pwindsinspirations says:
This story brought out emotions in me I had hidden away. I, too, was abused and afraid to tell anyone for fear of only making it worse for myself….. I liked how it took me from despair to triumph and the way the writer brought that about.
HARD ROAD HOME (LITERARY, COMING-OF-AGE) Denise Gayl says:
A very good read. As a mother of 2 girls, the subject matter is a bit difficult at times. But, in the end, it shows that young women pitted against adversity through no fault of their own can come back strong and live good lives. Is thought provoking and makes me realize there is much that needs to be done in this society to help young people thrive.
THIS is why I write! Thank you, Readers! YOU are my inspiration!
katrina leavereview

SKETCH OF A MURDER, Special Crimes Team, is FREE. Run over and grab your copy! http://www.amazon.com/Sketch-Murder-Special-Crimes-Team-ebook/dp/B00KU6AIPQ

To view my other titles go to: http://www.amazon.com/Aya-Walksfar/e/B00CMVAKKK

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THE CHAMELEON’S LEGACY

Chapter 1

By age 5, I–Cas Redner–had seen a number of flying saucers…sometimes, they even landed…on my stepfather’s head. My mother’s aim was very good, whether the object was a saucer, a Vick’s jar or a butcher knife. It wasn’t her fault that my stepfather moved so quickly.

Our family fit into our dead end—on so many levels—neighborhood. The cops rarely appeared with fewer than two units and four cops. Mostly they didn’t show up at all—probably hoped we would kill each other off. Sometimes, we did.

When Mom went into a rage the only person who could, without fail, calm her down was Miss Allen. Miss Allen lived in the house next door. Her yard adjoined ours. My mother called her Miss Allen with great respect and I knew better than not to be respectful to Miss Allen. If my mom didn’t knock me into next week, Miss Allen surely would.

Miss Allen, a big ebony woman with white teeth that showed often in a smile, black, kinky hair, huge pillowy breasts and a solid right hook, didn’t tolerate being dissed. I’d seen her knock a full grown man on his ass. She laughed loud, talked louder, hugged big and had a slow burn temper; you just better not keep on until it boiled!

Mom didn’t trust men alone with me, except for Daddy Reese, a short term stepfather, and my step-grandfather, Mom’s stepfather who I called Paw-Paw. I have lots of memories A.P., After Paw-Paw, but none B.P., Before Paw-Paw. There weren’t any B.P. He knew me before I ever knew about him, but then you can’t blame a two and some year old in an orphanage for not knowing her grandfather. Born while my mother was serving time for killing a man, the only person present during my birth, besides the medical staff and my mother, was Mom’s friend, a prostitute named Sue. I went straight from the hospital to the orphanage.

I grew up knowing my mother couldn’t keep me—no nurseries in prisons—and neither could my grandma. My grandfather set his foot down saying, “I’m not going to take care of the kids your daughter whores out.” End of discussion. Grandma cried but she couldn’t afford to take me if she left her husband and she wouldn’t leave for less than that kind of good reason. I’m told that a well-known attorney wanted Grandma to bring me home, leave me on her couch while my grandfather was at work and leave the door unlocked. He said, “When you return the baby will be gone to a good home and there’ll be a little something to help you out financially in an envelope.” Sort of like a puppy. I heard that Grandma drew herself up rigid and stared at the attorney. “I don’ sell my granbaby.”

I grew up hearing that story along with the story about the young couple who wanted to adopt me. They took me home, but when I got sick with a high fever and had a convulsion, they returned me. Nope, don’t want this one. It’s broke.

Mom served her time and hit the streets, in more ways than one. Prostitution paid better than any other job my unskilled mother could find. When Reese Hannah paid the young blond woman for a date, he didn’t know it would go so much farther. An older man with a strong sense of where he fit in the world, and where women fit—in the house taking care of kids and husband—he quickly fell under my mother’s spell. Mom could charm a polar bear out of its fur. Couldn’t blame her. Daddy Reese worked hard, had simple wants and loved my mother beyond all reason. The only condition he put on their marriage: mom had to bring me home from the orphanage.

I’ve never been able to decide if Daddy Reese did me a favor or not. Maybe Grandma should’ve sold me to that attorney?

Paw-Paw said when I came home I would go into a screaming terror if I saw a rubber doll and I was likewise terrified of thin switch-like tree limbs. Except for that, he said he’d never see a child not yet three years old stay as still and silent as I did.

I don’t recall much about Daddy Reese. I remember him coming up the hill from his job in the evening, black rounded top lunch pail swinging from one big hand. I’d run as fast as my legs would carry me down the hill, screaming, “Daddy Reese!” Just before I reached him, he’d put down the lunch pail and spread his arms wide. I’d race into him, and he’d scoop me up and we’d twirl around and around. Then he’d give me a kiss on the cheek and put me down. I’d insist on carrying his lunch pail though it hung nearly to the ground, I was so small. He’d take my hand and I’d skip-walk back home with him. That’s the only memory I have.

My fourth birthday came and Daddy Reese left. Mom had gotten pregnant by another man and divorced Daddy Reese.

My new stepfather, Andrew, was not permitted to be in the same room alone with me, and he wasn’t permitted to speak to me. Nor I to him. I’ve never understood how Mom could control people the way she did, but they did whatever she demanded. Until my mother died when I was nineteen, Andrew spoke to me only three times, and those times remained my and his secret.

A couple weeks after my younger half-sister, Helena, was born Mom had me sit on the frayed couch and taught me how to hold, bottle feed, burb and change an infant. A few weeks later, after I’d had a bit of practice, one day after Andrew left for work, she handed the baby over to me. “You have to take care of her, Sis. Andrew has to work and I have to go find a job, too.” I am sure I nodded because any other answer would not have been acceptable to Mom. Unlike some four year olds, I was mature for my age, and I understood how to live with my mother with the least amount of pain—literal pain as she despised being back talked or disobeyed.

People have heard me relate these things about my mother and they have said, “Oh, God, she was so mean to you!”

No, Mom wasn’t mean. Our world was harsh. To be female in our world demanded a toughness that even men didn’t have to don. And a vigilance beyond what any boy or man had to maintain. It was years after I’d left home that I finally comprehended my mother’s actions.

 

The Chameleon’s Legacy is a new, coming-of-age novel I am working on. This is a VERY rough first draft of Chapter 1. Leave a comment! I appreciate all comments.

For other books I’ve written, go to: http://www.amazon.com/author/ayawalksfar

Stop by and say hi at: http://www.facebook.com/ayawalksfar

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