Girlphoria

Hey, all! My short story, Dinner Party, will be featured in the June Rebirth issue of Girlphoria. Look for it!

Just Checking In

I've been insanely busy this week, having reached the point in my novel where the Muse takes complete control and I write like a fiend until completion.

I've also been reading a great deal.

Which brings me to the latest addition to my blog layout - the Recommended Reading Box. I'll add to the list as I read new wonderful things. And by "anything by ..." I mean just that. I've read numerous works by that author and would recommend each and every one of them. So enjoy!

ARCs for sale on ebay?

I need to call attention to something going on that, quite frankly, disturbs the fuck out of me. Fellow novelist PC Cast stumbled onto several ARCs of her novel being sold on ebay. For those of you who don't know, ARC stands for Advanced Review Copy. These are advanced copies of novels - sometimes unedited - that are sent to various readers at no charge so that they may read and review the work. You know how sometimes you'll see quotes on a book jacket of this person or that person saying "This book was a nonstop thrillride!"? ARCs.

ARCs are not for sale. They're not meant to be sold later, either, because the author herself has made no profit from the ARC whatsoever. Even more infuriating is the fact that these auctions are closing at $30, sometimes more. One woman said she saw an ARC of a Janet Evanovich book go for over $600. That is $600 of pure profit for the asstard who created the listing. Ms. Evanovich will not see one single penny of that.

Some of you may say, "well, that's capitalism for you".

No, it's not. It's theft. A rather nasty debate on the subject arose over at Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Novels. Some people were claiming that just because the cover of the book says, "ARC - Not for Sale" doesn't make it illegal to sell them.

Bullshit. It's called Copyright violation.

So please, folks, if you happen across an ARC for sale on ebay, lend a hand. Report the sale to the publishing company, or to ebay, or both. If you can't be arsed, at least don't bid on the damn thing.

We authors are not greedy people. We aren't. I don't write for the money, and I don't know of any author who does. We write because it's who we are. But that doesn't mean it's okay to let this bs continue.

Look At Me Go!

Yes, the website was updated again today. I've added a complete short story, Dinner Party. Enjoy!

Monday Update

Yes, I am an Author Pimp extraordinary! (Note: I do not receive any monetary remuneration for said pimpage and therefore cannot, technically, be dubbed a pimp, oh you investigators of ethical compliance for admittance to the Bar)

This weekend I read three novels (yes, I have been quite busy).

Sword of Rhoswen by Brenda Williamson was my favorite of the three by far. Ms. Williamson mixes elements of fantasy, history, and romance in such a way that I was drawn into the novel and read it nearly all at once, staying up past 3am on Saturday to finish it. Her writing is clean and refined, her descriptions vivid without being overkill, and her character development satisfyingly thorough. Rumor has it there is a sequel in the works.

Magic in the Blood by Silvia Violet is another novel from Samhain Publishing. The plot is intriguing and the characters moving, but the novel ends up being "your typical vampire erotica" more often than not. There were some places where I feel very strongly that Ms. Violet's editor steered her wrong, or just plain did a piss poor job. Her writing lacks a refinement of sorts, and there were typographical and grammatical errors that an editor should have caught, but it is by no means a bad read.

I was speaking with H.S. Kinn the other day about critical and editorial reading. I find it nearly impossible to turn off "editor mode" when I read these days, correcting things in my head even when I am reading something for fun. It's frustrating.

Don't take my overly critical opinions too seriously. When I say that a book was poorly edited, I'm not faulting the author. Each and every one of us has "bad habits". Me? I love adverbs. It's a love/hate relationship, in truth, because I hate that I love them. But I am madly in lust with them and use them desperately as I fervently write my novels. My characters say things quickly. They kiss greedily, hungrily, desperately. Yes, adverbs.

I also, according to my own editor, like circles far too much. "He circled her breasts with his hands". "She moved her hips in tiny circles". Alisha tells me someone is always circling in my sex scenes.

Oops.

This is why an editor is crucial. This is why Anne Rice is, in my humble and impoverished opinion, a moron when she says that "novel writing is a virtuoso performance". I counter that with a familiar saying amongst us actual virtuosos: "There is no such thing as a perfect performance". My violin tutor used to tell me that all the time - an incessant perfectionist, I would beat myself up endlessly over even the smallest error in any given audition, performance, or hell, even practice. I thought he was just trying to keep me calm. Then I took a master class from Daniel Heifeitz, grandson of Jasha Heifeitz (considered by some to be the violinist of the 20th century), and he told me the same thing.

When I took a master class with Scott St. John and played Paganini's Variations on his Stradavarius, guess what? He told me the same goddamn thing. I think that was when I started to believe it. There is no such thing as a perfect performance. Hell, we could take it one step further and say nothing in this world is perfect, and I could begin a discourse on Plato's Forms and you'd all hate me forever.

My point is this: An extra pair of eyes is never a bad thing, and no matter how many times an author reads over her own work, she's never going to catch everything. It's too close to her, too personal. So if given the opportunity to have someone help her to improve her writing, she should always accept, with open arms. Always.

*puts away soapbox*

I found out today that I won this month's Sexy Authors With Attitude Contest! My prize is a free copy of Chamberlain's Knight by Skyler Grey. I haven't read anything of Skyler's yet, but if she's anything like her fellow Sexy Author Emma Wildes, I know I will love it!

My website has been updated. I have added a much longer excerpt from Svetkavista, and updated my links page. If you aren't on there and would like to be, please drop me a line. I love to pimp. It is my destiny.

Pre-Caffeine Musings

Good morning, faithful readers, of which I believe there are now a grand total of...

...two. Including myself.

Not to worry, Ms. Kinn, when I'm famous in ten years, you can say, "I read her Blog back when nobody else did".
"Well what did she write about in her blog?" Barbara Walters will ask.
"Not a whole lot," you'll respond.
"Was it interesting at least?" Walters again.
"Not particularly."

"I want to be a saint."

That is the first sentence of Anne Rice's latest (and supposedly last) Vampire Chronicles novel, Blood Canticle.

"I want to be a saint. I want to save souls by the millions. I
want to do good far and wide. I want to fight evil! I want my
life-sized statue every church."

Well I am not Lestat de Lioncourt. I'm not three centuries old. And I don't want to be a saint. I don't have any interest in saving souls, I don't have anything against evil, and I certainly don't want my statue inside every church.

I can relate, though. I want to be famous. I want people to know who I am. Oh yes, I want my name on everyone's lips. Statues in churches? No. Statues in town squares? Now we're talkin'. I want someone, two hundred years from now, to stand before my statue in Highland, Maryland and announce to a crowd of eager, camera-clutching tourists, "This is where Kayleigh Jamison, one of the most prolific authors of the 21st century, grew up."

I admit that I'm afraid of a lot of things. Snakes, worms, spiders, accidentally eating moldy cheese, heights, bridges, airplanes falling flying vomiting death loneliness...

but my all time Number One biggest fear is Mediocrity. To die and have no one attend my funeral. To have someone say, "who was she?" or "what did she do?"

No. I want the fame. I want to be heard. I want people to come forward, saying, "I knew her when..." I want someone to find my battered notebooks, filled with incoherent, handwritten scribbling. To stumble across the journals I've kept since I was 12. To find the collection of napkins, torn envelopes, and paper scraps covered with things like, "What is the deal btwn Vesh + N? Why the hate? What is mys of B's past?" I want these things in a museum, or a library somewhere, locked within a glass case with an engraved plaque that reads, "miscellaneous writing of Kayleigh Jamison". I want scholars in far off centuries to study these things as if their lives depended on decoding them.

I want bumbling, eager college students to write their theses on me. I want someone to make a movie about my life. (The tagline could read: Brilliant. Beautiful. Tortured.)

I want to be famous.

One More

I came across another Blog Skin today that I must use, but I promise that I will stop the incessant changes after tonight. One more and I'm done.

Really.

Ok, probably.

More Fabulous Reads!

It's official; I am in love with Emma Wildes.

The Manuscript came out today from Siren Publishing, and The Switch is available from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. Not only can she crank out novels at an alarming rate, she writes quality fiction. I haven't read either of them yet, but having read four of her previous works, I have no doubt that they will be wonderful.

As for what's going on in my life, Svetkavista is coming along very well. I'll be posting some excerpts for your reading pleasure soon.