I wrote about nine pages and hadn’t yet completed my case for my position.  I’m chuckling here because I had to write to my position to discover it.  (Funny how writers do that, isn’t it?  Write to positions, solutions, ideas.)

Anyway, I decided that was ridiculous.  What I needed was a succinct post that cut through the clutter, so here it is:

Advice is good or bad depending on the advice and how it is viewed.  If you look at it through your personal prism and the result is constructive, then it’s good advice.  If  viewed through your personal prism and the outcome isn’t constructive, then it’s bad advice—for you—at this time.

That’s the thing.  Change is constant.  So advice given today might be lousy for you, but later, it could be terrific.  Or good advice today could be lousy for you a week, month or year from now.

Bluntly put, advice is like opinions.  Everybody has one.  And pretty much everybody is willing to share it.  The art of advice comes not in the giving but in the receiving. 

When you receive advice, if you view it in general terms, it’s apt to be far less valuable to you personally than if you view it specifically as it applies to you, your work, your career, your current situation, and your current circumstance.  There are a lot of shades of gray in that prism, and they need to be your shades of gray.

The bottom line is we should seek wise counselors.  We don’t all have to step in the same mud puddles to know that if we step in, mud will squish between our toes.  But once we’re given wise counsel, then we must determine whether or not we want or need that mud.  That’s a singular decision, one specific to each of us.

There is no great one-size-fits-all advice that extends beyond reason and common sense.  We write.  We write for different reasons, with different expectations, motivations and goals and purposes.  We are guided by different standards, principles, and we each have our own list of must-dos and must-never-dos–don’t want to dos are in there, too.

What one-size-fits-all advice can be best for any of us knowing that?

It can’t.  And the reason why not is simple.

There is no great one-size-fits-all advice because there is no one-size-fits-all writer.

Blessings,

Vicki

© 2012, Vicki Hinze

This morning on Amazon, I saw that BESIDE A DREAMSWEPT SEA was free on Kindle.

I didn’t know about this, so I have no idea how long it will be free.

Beside a Dreamswept Sea is the last book in the Seascape Trilogy.  The books stand alone so it isn’t necessary for you to read Beyond the Misty Shore or Upon a Mystic Tide first.

In the US, download a free copy HERE.

Here are a few comments on BESIDE A DREAMSWEPT SEA:

“Readers seeking a little romantic magic in their lives need to book a room at the Seascape Inn series.  All of these [Seascape] novels are incredible reading experiences.  Beside a Dreamswept Sea enhances the deserved reputation of the series.  This reviewer recommends the entire collection, which may turn into a collector’s item in the years to come.”
– Painted Rock

“Funny and touching.  If this is your first Seascape, you’ll want to go back and read them all.
– Romance Forever

“One of the most gifted writers of contemporary romance (with a touch of otherworldly intervention) today.  Like this book, all the author’s contributions to the brilliant Seascape series (the other two novels being Upon A Mystic Tide and Beyond the Misty Shore) enhance the entire sub-genre with its clever writing, interesting story lines, and great characters.   This reviewer strongly recommends all…Seascape novels.  The pentad makes up one of the best on-going series on the present market.”
– Affaire de Coeur

“Rich in characterization and description.  It s easy to lose one’s self in the details and lush scenery.  [The] author brings [her] own special flavor to these novels; layering and enriching the ancient [Seascape] inn until the patina shines deep and lustrous…”
– Under the Covers

“Magical!  This one is a must…”     — Bell, Book, and Candle

“A tender poignancy makes this chapter in the saga of the mystical Seascape Inn all the more special.  Fans will be especially touched.” — Romantic Times

“Funny and touching.  If this is your first Seascape, you’ll want to go back and read them all.  This author’s writing is simply exquisite.   For fans of Rosamunde Pilcher and Maeve Binchy.” — Susan Wiggs, best-selling author

Reader Comments:

“Gorgeous, lyrical writing makes this book extra special.  I’ve been reading all of this series, and I think this is my most favorite of all. This author’s writing is simply exquisite. For fans of Rosamunde Pilcher and Maeve Binchy.”    –Amazon Reader

“Hands down, Beside a Dreamswept Sea is the finest book in the Seascape Series, one of the most innovative on the market today. Each story is a unique healing journey for the characters and indeed for the reader too. With captivating main characters, this story will sweep you off your feet! And for all those who find Miss Hattie and Tony irresistible, order this book NOW! A real keeper, Beside a Dreamswept Sea deserves a place of honor on your “keeper” shelf.”  –Amazon Reader

“Beside a Dreamswept Sea’, the last book in this series, spoke to me more than the others. I really felt that the author had a deep understanding of mental abuse and the effects it can have. Although this book has similar miscommunication between the main characters as in the previous books, I didn’t feel that it was detrimental to the story. There was enough of a plot to make this book really interesting and I had trouble putting it down. It has a perfect mix of drama, romance, humour, mystery and paranormal. I loved reading about the children’s antics! I enjoyed the trilogy and wish it was an ongoing series.” –Amazon Reader, Jo

Here’s a sample chapter:

© 1995-2011 Vicki Hinze

The child was going to drown.

The truth slammed into Tony Freeport with the force of a sledge. A stunning truth, considering she lay tucked safely in bed in the Shell Room of Seascape Inn and, in his fifty years as a ghost working with his beloved Hattie in assisting others here to heal, he’d never before seen anyone come to harm under the inn’s roof. But in Suzie Richards’s dream, all the signs of real-life drowning were evident: panic, an inability to breathe, and fear. So much fear. . .

Dream or reality, if Tony didn’t do something quickly, the nine-year-old daughter of Bryce Richards and the deceased photojournalist, Meriam, was going to drown.

What could Tony do? What should he do? Suzie taking on the burdens of family no child should ever have to carry had been the catalyst insisting he intercede this far. But to intercede into her dreams? Did he dare?

This had to be a near-miss warning. Had to be.

He looked through the closed bedroom door, out into the upstairs hallway. The paneled walls deepened the night’s shadows and the only light was that seeping through the bank of mullioned windows centered inside a small vaulted alcove at the far end of the hall.

Tall hand-carved mahogany bookshelves flanked those windows. Tony couldn’t clearly see the books in them, but he didn’t have to see them to know each book’s title, to know each spine stood straight. Nor did he need to see the pillows on the thick-cushions of the window seat nestled between those shelves to know they’d been fluffed. Hattie Stillman nurtured everything in her care, which included all of Seascape Inn, most of Sea Haven Village, and, at one time, him.

He scanned the polished plank-wood floor from the far end of the hallway back toward the end where he stood. On the left, facing the Atlantic Ocean, was the master bedroom, dubbed the Great White Room years ago, and the bath. On the right, the L-shaped staircase leading down to the first floor, and the Cove Room where Bryce Richards should have been sleeping but wasn’t. Instead, the man dozed slumped on the hallway floor, his head lolled back against the paneled wall, his slippered foot rumpling the edge of the white Berber rug that stretched from the stairway’s landing nearly all the way down to the Shell Room, about a yard from Tony’s feet.

Bryce was a man on a mission. Two sets of his friends from New Orleans, T.J. and Maggie MacGregor and John and Bess Mystic, had found “magic” at Seascape Inn, and Bryce had come here with doubts but hopes that enough magic remained to grant his daughter peace from the emotional demons haunting her sleep since her mother’s death two years ago. But even in sleep, Bryce was despairing; Tony sensed it. Despairing that, though armed with its angelic innkeeper, Miss Hattie, the charming old inn couldn’t hold that much magic and, without it–God knew Bryce had tried everything else–Suzie’s nightmares would be an endless source of her suffering.

And Bryce despaired that she’d dream and, asleep in the Cove Room across the hallway, he’d not hear her cries, not know to come and comfort her. For reasons of his own, he had forsaken sleeping in the comfortable, stuffed chair in her room or in the luxury of a soft, king-size bed and had chosen to stand guard on the hallway’s oak floor outside her door, listening, waiting, and praying he wouldn’t be needed.

The agony of the situation had broken Tony’s heart, and he’d aided the quiet of the house in lulling the reluctant Bryce to sleep, agreeing with his darling Hattie’s assessment that Bryce was worn to a frazzle. But who wouldn’t be? Worried sick about his three children overall, Suzie and her nightmares in particular; fighting a constant battle of wills with that dour-faced Mrs. Wiggins, whom Bryce’s wife had hired to care for the children when Jeremy had been born four years ago; and then–right on the heels of the narrow-miss divorce between John and Bess Mystic–that blasted Tate divorce case. It was a wonder Bryce Richards was still upright!

In the days since their arrival at Seascape Inn, Hattie had mumbled repeatedly that no more a devoted father than Bryce ever had graced the earth, and Tony wholeheartedly agreed with his beloved on that appraisal, too. Bryce was a fine father, a fine man, and a fine attorney.

Yet that hadn’t spared him from challenges.

As if he hadn’t had enough on his plate already, he’d been tossed a moral dilemma on the Tate divorce case that would have brought even the most avid believer, the most confident man in the world, to his knees. A shame he had represented Gregory Tate. Not only disagreeable, the man had proven himself unscrupulous and coldly calculating.

Though the divorce had been granted and the case was behind Bryce now, it had left him weary, his opinion even more jaded about the odds for successful, happy marriages–and it’d left him admittedly curious about the mysterious Mrs. Tate.

So was Tony. He leaned against the doorjamb, propped the toe of his shoe against the floor, then rubbed at his neck. Why had the woman never once appeared in court? Never once attended the attorney/client meetings with Bryce, Gregory, and her own attorney?

Her behavior was curious.

Tony grimaced. Now, because he had given Bryce this brief but much-needed respite of sleep, Suzie fought the fiendish nightmare alone. Tony shouldn’t intercede further–dream intervention was expressly forbidden–but she was suffering uncomforted, and that was his fault. He couldn’t deny responsibility and condemn her to this. Hattie would never forgive him. Worse, he’d never forgive himself.

Protocol be damned. Tony shoved away from the wall. Rules and regulations, too. What more could be done to him? Already he lived in the house with his beloved Hattie and yet he couldn’t talk directly with her, couldn’t hold her, couldn’t love her as a man should love a woman–as he would have loved her had he been given the chance. What could be more challenging? And a child’s life hung in the balance. Likely her father’s, too–if anything should happen to her.

Theoretically, people didn’t actually die just because they died in their dreams. But what if Suzie did? In Tony’s experience, dreamers always had awakened prior to actual dream-state death. So why wasn’t Suzie awakening?

Soaring heart rate. Gasping something fierce. She might not drown, but she could have a heart attack. Drowning or a massive coronary, dead was dead.

He tried several tactics to nudge her into awakening.

Nothing worked.

Now what?

Having no idea, Tony scowled, feeling inept and agitated. The bottom line was Bryce Richards had little more left to lose. Tony had to intercede.

He stepped into Suzie’s nightmare, into a raging storm.

The wind stung, bitingly cold, whistling through crisp brown leaves that had fallen from the poplars and oaks near the shore. Familiar poplars and oaks. Familiar low stone wall running along the rocky ground to the pond. And familiar white wrought-iron bench, north of a familiar, freshly painted gazebo.

Criminey, Suzie was in the pond behind Seascape Inn!

Did she realize this yet? That her recurring dream actually took place here?

Odd. Before three days ago, Suzie never had seen Seascape Inn or its pond, and yet she’d suffered this same nightmare for the past two years.

Agitated by the blustery wind, Tony squinted against the darkness and glimpsed the shadow of a little rowboat–the very boat he himself with his lifelong friends, Hatch and Vic, had fished from as boys. Rocking on turbulent waves, the boat dipped low, took on water. And–sweet heaven, it was empty.

“Suzie?” Where was she? “Suzie?” The wind tossed Tony’s words back to him. Nearing the water’s edge, he called out again and stumbled over a giant oak’s gnarled roots. His foot stung.

Startled, he winced. Physical pain? How peculiar. It’d been half a century since he’d felt physical pain. . . .

He frantically scanned the dark water. Later, he’d think about the pain. He had to find Suzie now–before it was too late.

Midway across the pond, something flashed white. Her nightgown? No. No, it wasn’t. Just froth from a wave. Fear seeped deeper, into his soul. Where was she?

Straining harder, skimming, probing, he spotted her. Near the bow of the boat, floundering in the water, arms flailing, head bobbing between the waves.

Oh God, she really was going to drown. Unlike her other dreams, this one wasn’t a near-miss warning!

He cupped his hands at his mouth. “Suzie! Hold on to the boat. I’m coming. Just hold on to the boat!”

“I can’t!” she shouted back. Swallowing in a great gulp of water, she choked.

The sound grated at his ears, tore at his heart. Why in the name of everything holy did she feel it vital to hold on to the oars? Though wooden, they wouldn’t offer enough stability in the turbulent water to keep her afloat. Still, she held them in a death grip.
He had to find out why. Though dangerous–fear of him, in addition to the fear and panic she was suffering already, could worsen her situation dramatically–to help her, he needed to understand her rationale.

She screamed. A shattering scream that pierced his ears and reverberated in his mind. A chiseled hollow in his chest ached. Whatever the risks, damn it, he had to take them.

Focusing, he tapped into the child’s thoughts.

You have to get both oars in the water and keep them there, Suzie.

Not her voice. A memory. Something she’d been told by a woman. Someone older–twenties or thirties maybe. And that accent–definitely not anyone from Sea Haven Village, or from Maine. Southern. Distinctly southern.

The child took a wave full in the face, sputtered, then coughed.

He hurried toward her, resenting that in her dreams he obviously lacked his special gifts, his abilities and talents with the physical that would allow him to fish her out without getting so much as a toe wet. In dreams, it appeared he was as weak or as strong as a normal man. And while at times he’d love to again be a normal man, when Suzie was clinging to life by an oar wasn’t one of them.

What did it all mean?

He returned his cupped hands to his mouth. “Suzie, let go of that oar right now and grab hold of the boat. Do it! Do you hear me? Do it!”

Her wet hair swept over her face and clung to her tiny cheek in a clump, her eyes wild with fear. “I’ve got to keep both oars in the water! I’ve got to, or I’m not gonna get better.”

This was new ground, and Tony waffled on what to do. His heart told him to go get her. His logic warned if he touched her, with her body temperature as low as it surely was already from the frigid water, the cold could result in pneumonia and she’d die. But if he didn’t physically get her out of the pond quickly, she’d die, too. Simply put, he was in a lose/lose situation here. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

He had years of experience. He just had to not panic. Had to think about this. He cleared his mind, then weighed the pros and cons, mentally searching for alternatives less risky to Suzie.

There were none.

He hated any but win/win situations, yet the core in this one rested right where it had before he’d begun his search: She had a fighting chance with pneumonia. She didn’t with drowning.

Tony dove in. Hit the frigid water that sucked out his breath, then stroked furiously toward her.

The lack of true physical exercise for too many years had him winded and tiring quickly. Soon, his arms and legs felt like lead and he couldn’t seem to get enough air to feed his starving lungs. They throbbed and ached, and the physical sensations of weight and gravity and oxygen deprivation had him sluggish, tired, moving about as quickly as a hyperthyroid snail. Without his special gifts, could he get to her in time?

“Please, don’t let her die. Please, help me help her.” She was so close. So close. . . . “Please!”

He dug deep, scraped the remnants of his reserves and pulled a mighty stroke.
His fingers snagged the collar of her nightgown.

He tugged, grabbed her more securely with his left hand, the boat with his right, then curled her tiny body to his and hugged her to him. She latched her arms around his neck, squeezed so hard he sensed she was trying to crawl into him. And then she began to cry. Deep, heart wrenching sobs that jerked viciously at his heartstrings. “Shhh, it’s okay, little one. I’ve got you now. I’ve got you now.”

She breathed against his neck, her voice a rattled whimper of sound. “Promise?”

This crisis, she’d weathered. This time, she’d survived. Awash in gratitude and relief, he swallowed hard. “I promise.”

Water swirled, tugging at his clothes. Awareness stole into him and he recalled stubbing his toe on the gnarled oak’s root. His foot actually had stung. And now, more awareness of the physical dragged at him. Her moist, warm breath at his shoulder. Cold as she was from the frigid water, the warmth of her tiny body. The feel of her fingers digging into his neck. His own need for oxygen, for rest. The weight of his uniform. Sensations.

Lifelike . . . sensations.

His hands began to shake. Awed, humbled, he shook all over. He’d not felt any physical sensations since he’d returned home from the battlefield for burial back in World War II and, because he hadn’t, now he couldn’t be sure which of them, he or Suzie, groped with greater emotional turmoil.

She was alive.

And, for the first time in half a century, he was feeling the actual touch of another human being.

His eyes stung and a tear–a tear–slid onto his cheek.

An uneasy niggle nagged at him. He’d been in many situations in the past fifty years and had felt nothing physical. So why now? True, he’d never before entered anyone’s dreams–and he fully expected to pay a steep penalty for trespassing into Suzie’s now–but there had to be some deeper reason for this. His sixth sense screamed it. And it screamed that something about these particular “special guests” made this intercession, and their situation, different from the hundreds of other special guests he and Hattie had assisted at Seascape Inn.

Suzie wheezed. Feeling the rattle against his chest, he prayed Seascape would protect her from almost certain pneumonia. Over the years, many had called the inn “The Healing House,” and how fervently he hoped its reputation proved prophetic for Suzie.

These special guests are different. A woman’s voice echoed through his mind. This situation is different.

She sounded urgent, yet calm and dispassionate. Who was she?

Who I am doesn’t matter. My message is what is important, Tony.

Why?

You’ll have to find the answer to that yourself, I’m afraid.

I see.

No, you don’t. That’s part of the problem. But you will, Tony. I’m rather, er, persistent.

Just what he needed. Another stubborn woman to contend with. Well, I’ll have to figure it out later. Right now, I need to get Suzie out of this water and wind before she freezes to death.

Ah, I’m encouraged. The woman sighed.

Excuse me? Kicking his feet, he steered toward the shore, holding on to Suzie and the boat for fear his strength would fizzle.

You’re mired in a quandary yet still putting Suzie’s needs first. I’m encouraged by that. And, yes, I expect you will figure it out–eventually.

Terrific. Stubborn and snooty. A barrel of sunshine. I’m encouraged that you’re encouraged.
Save your sarcasm, Tony. The woman laughed, soft and melodious. You’re going to need your energy.

He wanted to kick something. Actually, he wanted to kick “Sunshine.” Wicked of him, but did she have to be right about the energy bit, too? His muscles were in distress; he didn’t have the energy for this verbal sparring–or the time for it. Not right now. Suzie had stopped crying, but she still clung to him as if she feared he’d forget and let go of her. He’d promised, but promises didn’t hold much value to Suzie Richards; that much was evident. At least not those aside from her father’s. In the chaos of what had been their family life, Bryce somehow had retained his children’s trust. That in itself, considering the circumstances, was a miracle.

To reassure her, Tony smoothed her frail back until her shudders eased. When they subsided, though vain, a sense of satisfaction joined those of relief and gratitude inside him. He’d catch hell for breaking protocol, but feeling Suzie inhaling and exhaling breath made whatever price he had to pay worth it. The last thing she needed was more tragedy in her life. It wouldn’t do Bryce any good, either. The man had suffered his share of challenges and then some.

Unfortunately, from all appearances, he was fated to suffer a few more, but at least those challenges wouldn’t include the death of his oldest daughter.

They might, Sunshine commented.

Tony’s skin crawled. Not if there’s any way in the world for me to stop it.

You might want to recant that statement, Anthony Freeport.

No way.

We’ll see.

A shiver rippled up his backbone. Images raced through his mind. Images of Suzie again in the little boat, trying to do something with the paddles and falling into the pond. Images of her in the water during a storm, gasping. Drowning. And images of Tony standing alone on the shore, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, his shoulders slumped, watching and yet powerless to help her.

Powerless? Shock streaked through him. But he’d never before been powerless here. Never . . .

Until now.

Sunshine’s softly spoken warning thundered through his mind. His knees collapsed. He locked them, stumbling and shuddering hard. God help them all.

This wasn’t an ordinary dream.

Download your free copy now.

UK readers use this link.

Germany, the book is on sale there for EUR 5,69.  Here’s a link to it for you.

France, it’s on sale for EUR 5,97.  Here’s a link for you.

Italy, it’s EUR 6,23.  Here’s a link for you.

Blessings,

Vicki

Well, discovering the answer to the “does it stay or go” question took a little time.  At one time, that comma was typically inserted.  Now, according to a variety of style manuals, it’s typically omitted for “stop-less” style preferences.  But—and here’s the kicker that will make writers nuts—it’s customary to follow the owner’s legal name in creative style.

So if Lost Inc. were a real company, then it’d be Lost Inc.  Or if it were a real company and it opted for Lost, Inc. legally, then it’d be Lost, Inc.  But there is no legal guidance in an imaginary corporation or its legal name.  It has none, discounting the author’s imagination.

Mmm.

And what of the name of the agency?  Is it Lost, Inc. or Lost Inc.?  Well, looking at the style books, it’s pretty much up to the author and whether or not s/he wants to stick with the traditional or adopt the new stop-less style.

One entry suggested dropping the period after Inc. as well.  I cruised right by that—I have enough conflict on the comma.  No way am I adding the period to it.  And another recommended dropping the Inc.  so that Lost, Inc. or Lost Inc would become simply Lost.

Interesting tidbit of information I ran across:  Did you know that Wal-Mart refers to the corporation and Walmart refers to a specific Wal-Mart store?  True.  But even Wal-Mart (or Walmart) uses both referencing both.

It’s a punctuation world gone mad. <g>

Mmm.  So what do I do about this dilemma?

There are benefits in adoption that stop-less style.  When a reader comes to a comma, s/he mentally pauses.  Having an additional pause every time the agency’s name appears can wreck the rhythm and that can create challenges with pacing.

On the other hand, if readers expect to see that comma there and don’t, every time the agency’s name appears without the comma, the reader is going to mentally note it.  That means s/he is going to be reminded s/he is reading.  A lot of breaks in the fictional dream, reminding the reader s/he is reading is not a good thing.

Since it appears to come down to the owner, which in this case would be me, the author, I have to ask which best serves the book?

Mmm.

Honestly, I’ve read the book so many times now, I can’t tell how big a deal the rhythm thing is now.  I looked at the pinterest board I created for this series to see what I’d done there.  True to the dual fish, I swam both ways.  Had some notations with the comma and some without it. Same thing on the private site.  Obviously, at least in the text (readers are more forgiving in titles), there must be consistency.  So which shall it be?  Does the comma stay or go?

I don’t know yet.

By this point, I’d have to be dead from the neck up to know I’m not the best judge on this. The publisher does have a style preference, of course, but having received the query, my guess is they have the dual message research netted me, which drops me right back into the “you decide” position.  Still, the publisher might have an adopted preferred position so I emailed all the citations to my editor, admitted I’d read the work so much I can’t tell how bad those stumbles on the comma or its absence would be for the reader anymore, and asked for her opinion.  She’s a sharp cookie, and I trust her.

The moral of the post is that punctuation matters.  If you think all this hoopla is an overreaction, consider a pin I saw the other day:

“Let’s eat, Grandpa.”

“Let’s eat Grandpa.”

I’d say a comma matters a great deal, especially to Grandpa!

So there are times a comma can kick your can.  When it does, what best serves the story is to let it—and get advice from one not yet as saturated and steeped in the work.  It might be hard to get your ego out of the way, but the truth is a fresh eye and inner ear can best serve your story.  And that is the ultimate objective.

My instinct is to omit the comma.  Breaking that fictional dream now and then is bad.  Breaking it often is asking for hurl-the-book-in-frustration trouble.

Now remind me I said that when I start getting letters from readers saying my book is full of errors because the comma’s been omitted . . .  if it is omitted.  My ego versus best serving the story—it’s not even a competition.  I’m seeking wise counsel on this one.

Which means the case of the questionable comma is not yet solved.

And the only thing I feel safe to say at the moment is that my schedule for today is shot.   Well, that’s not true.  It is shot, but there’s another thing I feel safe to say now.  I’m going to think twice before titling a series with an Inc. again, even though I’m more than a little fond of it.

Blessings,

Vicki

____________________

Not long ago, I started a group blog, Christians Read.  It’s a place where authors and readers discuss faith-affirming fiction and non-fiction, and daily life.  We’ve got a great group of authors participating (a list follows)  You’re welcome to come chat with us on the ChristiansRead site or on our Facebook page.

Christians Read Authors:  Hannah Alexander, Julie Arduini, Sarah Goebel, Elizabeth Goddard, Vicki Hinze, Maureen Lang, Yvonne Lehman, Kathi Macias, James L. Rubart, Lynette Sowell, Camy Tang

There was a time when advance notice would be posted all over the place.  You’d read about it in the newspaper, hear about it on the news.  That’s changed in the last few years, and more’s the pity.  But it doesn’t mean that you and I can’t spread the word and join the voices of the others who are determined that this day not fade into obscurity.

That’s how these things work, you know.  Focus is diminished and awareness fades away and then later the matter returns but in a different form.  We’ve seen that attempted already with taking our National Day of Prayer and making it a national day of service, a national day of reason and several other substitutions.

I don’t object to days of service or reason; we sorely need both.  But no service or reason is an adequate substitute or can, in my humble opinion, do as much for our nation or us as a people as prayer.

We’ve been through some difficult years and there are more challenges on the horizon.  This is no time for us to grow weak or forgetful and it’s certainly no time to feint.

Many who read my blog do not pray.  Many we all know do not pray.  But those of us who do pray know the power of prayer, and so we must be diligent.

I’m reminded of a time a friend was so mired down in challenges, he said he didn’t think he could pray anymore.  I told him not to worry; that I’d pray for both of us until he caught his breath and could do so on his own again.  That’s, I believe, the kind of attitude we need to have about this.  To pray for ourselves and for those who for reasons of their own feel they can’t pray or choose not to do so.  The Bible says where two agree, it’ll be done.  That if we turn to Him, He’ll heal our land.

We’re enough.

I’m often asked about the state of our nation and what one person can do.  There are a lot of options, of course.  Yet hands down the best and most effective and most potential good that any or all of us can do is to pray.

And so today, on this National Day of Prayer, my hope is that those of us who do pray and believe in the power of prayer will do so.  Our nation sorely needs it.  Our people sorely need it.  We sorely need it.

Blessings,

Vicki

Heroes aren’t just men . . . or women.  Police dogs and service dogs, for example, are heroic.  Actually, there are examples of heroism—courage, brave deeds, and/or noble qualities—in all walks of life.

My dad once told me of a man he greatly admired but refused to offer a book.  The reason?  The man couldn’t read.  He was heroic and admirable and no one should insult him by offering him something that required a skill he had not acquired.  I thought in that situation, there were two heroes:  the man and my dad for considering the man’s dignity.

All around us are acts of heroism.  A woman at the ballpark yesterday lifted a little one who couldn’t reach to get a drink from a water fountain.  To the thirsty, one who assists in getting a drink is performing a noble, heroic act.  Noticing that one needs help and helping without fanfare or even being asked—that’s heroic.

In one way or another, we’re all thirsty.

After a long illness, last night, the husband of a dear friend passed away.  For two years I’ve watched her struggle with him, fight for him to get him the care he needed, to keep his spirits up, to do all that needed doing both for him and for her family.  To me, her face is the face of a hero.

And as I focus on these things, I recall many who have been my heroes.  The list was far longer than I expected it to be when I sat down to weigh the matter.  There’s a hidden blessing in thinking about all your heroes.  You feel grateful for them and to them, of course, but you’re also grateful that they saw something in you they felt was valuable enough to sacrifice something they didn’t have to sacrifice on your behalf.  Their acts are proof of your worth in their eyes.

I wonder how many people miss that.  It begs two questions:

1.  In whose face do you look and see a hero?

2.  When others look in your face, what do they see?

Weighty questions.  But questions whose answers bear lasting treasures.

Blessings,

Vicki

The Line Between Fair and Foolish

Sometimes in writing books for others to read, it’s hard to find the line between fair and foolish.  Actually, sometimes the line is as clear as a sunny day but most often, it’s just as murky as the muddy Mississippi after a hurricane.

We think, as writers, that we’re being too obvious, too fair, and yet when others read, their feedback is as diverse as we were mixed minded in the writing.  Some felt we were too fair, some just fair enough and some foolishly fair and our handling diminished the suspense or message in the book.

I went to an online retailer and read all the reviews on five current bestsellers.  Then I went to a second retailer and read all the reviews on the same five books there.  Afterward, I went to a third retailer and read the reviews available on those same books posted there.

The results were that some liked one thing, some another, and still others liked nothing.  The mix was evident.  And it proved what writers have always known:   Read MORE

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I’ve been on deadline–still am on, though now on a different book–hence not posting as much as usual.  But I’ve gotten a cluster of questions from you, so I thought I’d address them here.  They’re all questions on writers and Facebook.
Q.  Which is better for a writer:  a personal account or a Facebook page?

A.  There are advantages and disadvantages to both.

On a personal page, you are limited to 5,000 “friends.”  The personal page is designed for personal use and not professional use.  So if the focus of the page is about you, the writer, and the books you publish, using a personal page for this purpose is a violation of the terms of service.  That can result in your account being closed/deleted.

Now if this personal account is about you, the human being who is a writer and you’re interacting on a multitude of things and occasionally post about your book and/or writing, that’s normal conversation and a case can be made on that.

Facebook has a “subscriber” status also.  Which means after you max out the 5,000 friends, others can subscribe.

You have the ability to message each individual, but not the ability to send one message to all friends and subscribers at once.  That can be problematic.

The Page option is the appropriate place to have your writer’s account.  There, you can talk about your books, writing, and you can message everyone at one time for major events.  Obviously, you don’t want to overuse that and fatigue those who “Like” you.

Pages have applications available for use that are beneficial to writers also.  Feed in your blog and add other pages.  For example, you might have a “LIKE GATE.”  This is a special page that those who have not already liked your page “land” when they come to your page.  It typically has a nice welcome message and maybe some books, and invites the person to “Like” your page.

Readers are not overly fond of Like gates.  Typically, they click not on like but on the wall tab to go directly to the wall.

Remember that people on Facebook aren’t interested in watching commercials.  They’re there to be social and to interact.  The place they go to do it is the wall.

Now on these other pages, you might put coming releases, or new releases, or your YouTube channel or various other things.  There are a variety of apps available for this.  I have some of these pages on my vicki.hinze.author Facebook page.

I also asked visitors to my page for feedback.  They’re terrific about answering questions for me and I really listen to what they have to say.

The majority of them do not visit the other pages.  They visit the wall..  They’re there to see what’s up and to see what subject we’re discussing today.  They enjoy the informal chatting.

There are good lessons in that for any who care to hear them.

So the answer is it depends on what your purpose is for the page.  If it’s about your books and writing, go with a Page.  If it’s to interact with friends and family, and you want to message individuals and get messages from individuals, then go with a personal account.

I have both because I do both on Facebook.

Q.  Can I make someone else an administrator on my Facebook account?

Yes, you can.  Many writers have an assistant who helps them with their accounts.  Understand that when you do this, you should be judicious.  (Read that paranoid.)  Why?  Because it is your account and you’re responsible for what happens on it.  You will be held accountable.  A trusted assistant, okay.  Others?  Mmm….

At one time, as the account owner, you could limit another administrator’s access to specific parts of your Facebook account.  Now, an administrator has full access.  So that individual can data mine, alter, change, delete or add anything of his/her choosing at will—including your actual account or that that which violates the terms of service, for which you will be held accountable.  So by giving unfettered access to another, you could do nothing further and still lose your account.

Most developers of apps and such don’t ask or want to be administrators anymore.  They’ll send you the information and instructions to use their apps but they don’t want to be added as an administrator on your account.  Frankly, they don’t want the liability

So, can you have someone else as an administrator?  Yes.  Should you?  Only you can decide that, but writer-to-writer, my advice is to be extremely prudent.  (Read that paranoid, too.)

Q.  How can I get people to “Like” my page?

Well, some say to take out ads.  I’ve done that, but with mixed results.  You see, it’s not quantity you’re after; it’s quality.  You want people to visit your page who actually want to be there.  People who are interested in what’s going on, in the conversation.  You want to welcome people into your writing world, of course, but by engaging them in the things they want to engage in.

If the numbers are empty, they’re of no value to you.  Your interest needs to be in the people behind the numbers.  Are you interested in them?  In what they think?  In their lives?  Do you hard sell your visitors or chat with them?  Which would you rather do—from the receiving end?  See what I mean?

Do you visit other people’s pages?  Leave comments and engage in their conversations?  Do you show your interest?

Being genuinely interested in others does build your numbers.  It’s a slow process because you’re building organically.  But I’ll tell you something.  I’d rather have a small number of organic “Likes” on my page than enormous numbers of people just there that I don’t know.

A conversation or engagement has two sides:  Listening and chatting.  And, while I can’t speak for anyone else, I can tell you for fact, there are some amazingly interesting, resilient and smart people who hang out on my page.  We’re apt to talk about anything—and we do.

I have a few rules and everyone knows them.  Say what you will, provided you treat everyone with respect.  No foul language.  And say nothing you wouldn’t say in front of a teen because odds are good you are.  (I mentor minors and they join us on the page, too.)  That’s about it.  So we have a broad canvas of discussions.  Some are funny; some are serious.  We talk life, death and universe stuff all the way to everyday everything.  I’m interested.  They know it.  And it’s fun.

So I hope that’s helpful advice because it might be your approach that’s problematic.  If you’re just pushing people to buy your book, that’s a problem because there’s nothing social in it.  If you’re holding contests for those who like your page—well, you shouldn’t be.  Facebook doesn’t allow that anymore, though I do occasionally see where a contest is being held with a disclaimer that Facebook is in no way involved.  The most I personally do on that is link to another site where one of my contests is being held, and there’s not a condition on entering.  Everyone is welcome.

To me, the best way to build your list is to engage.  That takes time, but it’s organic and authentic, and it’s fun.

Q.  I don’t like the TimeLine.  Can I keep my old format?

Last I heard, going to Timeline was compulsory.  So unless there’s been a recent change on policy, you’ll have to switch over.  I will say to try to make the switch with grace because it’s healthiest for you not to stress out over this stuff and to hang on.  Facebook is constantly changing and evolving.  Odds are good they’ll make changes you like—probably just about the time you learn to use the system in place. J  That’s what typically happens on everything, isn’t it?

Q.  I migrated to a Page from a personal account and I don’t like it.  Can I migrate back?

I feel your pain.  I understand your desire.  I share it.  As of a few months ago, no, you couldn’t migrate back.  You could open a new personal account and start over.  Unless something’s changed, well, read the response about grace and hanging on in the question above.

Q.  I want to do a Facebook Ad.  What’s the difference in impressions and clicks?  And do I have to bid the minimum they recommend?

An impression is where an image of your ad shows up elsewhere on Facebook.  Theoretically, it means that others have had an opportunity to see your ad.

Clicks are when someone sees an impression of your ad somewhere on Facebook and actually clicks on the ad.

You bid what you choose to bid.  The recommendation tells you what they suggest you bid to secure the service of them running your ad.

Also, just to be sure you’re aware of it, you can set a daily budget on your ad.  It’ll appear until whatever amount you’ve budgeted has been used.  When that’s done, it stops appearing until the next day.

Also be aware that Facebook has a really good help section with a ton of information in it.  There are guides and tips on successful ads and a lot of insightful information that can help you get the best return on your investment—whether that’s time or money.

If you look on the top of your page, next to “Home,” you’ll see a down arrow.  If you click on that, a drop down window appears.  At the bottom of it, you’ll see Help.   Just click there.

I highly recommend you take a few minutes and just look around and see what all is there.

Also, visit pages and see which ads draw your eye and attention.  Which ones you click on, or you fail to notice.

If you’re going to spend your money on this, then do a little research to determine what works well for you.  Odds are good that will be the case for others, too.

Blessings,

Vicki

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A SPECIAL NOTE ON ONE WAY TO WRITE A NOVEL

A short time ago, a reader informed me she had problems with her copy of ONE WAY TO WRITE A NOVEL.  We checked on it and the file was corrupt.  I have no idea why.  But I figured since I was going to have to read it again anyway  and to have edits done, I might as well update and expand it.  So I have.  It’s at Kindle now.

I’ve emailed Amazon about sending copies of the 2nd Edition out to all who bought the first.  Waiting to hear back from them on that, but you’ll either get a note from them or I’ll let you know how we’re going to fix this.

Hope you enjoy the updated version and sorry for the inconvenience.

Blessings,

Vicki