I need to write this. I’ve seen a few posts lately about authors getting despondent, wondering why they keep going. (I guess they’ve just had a royalty statement. My latest one from one of my publishers was crap, but I can at least buy a few cups of coffee and perhaps a bun with it. Maybe even buy a few Kindle books to support those despondent authors.) I hope this post cheers these authors up and makes them feel a little better about the work they do. Because it’s an amazing thing to do, writing and publishing a book. Never forget that.
I feel the same way some of the time. Writing is an insecure business. We authors wonder why we keep publishing books, why we put up with the vagaries of readership, fans, popularity. We sometimes wonder why, when others are rising to the top like cream with thousands of book sales, that while we seem to do okay, most times we’re that soggy ginger biscuit that suddenly fell into our tea, languishing at the bottom of the cup. *Cue pitiful sobbing* We’ve all been there, no doubt. I know I have. I’m a qualified ginger biscuit. That said, I’m thankful for every one of my sales and my readers. The readers make it all worthwhile and I treasure them.
THEY are why we keep doing it. It’s a simple basic truth, nothing profound about it. We do it because we love writing. We do it because creating worlds and characters where we can control them, make sure they get what they deserve, and make the world a better place through reading, is our mission. We do it because for every ONE single sale you make out there, someone is reading the story you wrote. Any sale is a good sale and those loyal readers who support us, wait for our next offering, cajole us, push us, inspire us, berate us, tell us how much they enjoyed our book- they are the reason we do what we do.
I understand for those authors who are fortunate (or unfortunate enough perhaps given the gist of this post) enough to make writing a full time job it’s a scary place. And my heart goes out to them when they fall short of what they expected or things get tough. Believe me, I’ve been there. I tried to be a full time writer for ten months when I lost my job, my house, my self-respect because I struggled to find someone to employ me. And trust me, I struggled. I had to get back into full time work and I was lucky enough someone took me on. So I know what it’s like to try make a living off writing alone.
My hat goes off to anyone doing this and who keeps fighting. You guys are my heroes. I hope to be a hero too some day.
So remember – keep going please, because I’m one of those readers who love your stories. Who joins you on the journey you create for us to enjoy and escape into. And if you decided not to do it anymore, you’d be sorely missed.
In celebration of Divine’s new author service, Divine Promotions, I’m participating in their Summer Blog Hop.
I don’t cook much, so giving out my favourite Summer recipe is a no-no. Instead I’ll tell you a bit about my best memories of Summer.
I lived in South Africa for over thirty years. So, summer there was celebrated exactly how you’d think it would be – swimming, having what we called ‘braais’, and others call a BBQ, tanning on our towels, stretched out on grass or sun loungers, running around drying off in the dry heat of day and basking in the sunshine. It was cold beers by our pool, crisp gin and tonics at sundown, the insistent and annoying whine of mosquitos at dusk and during the warm nights, sweating under the loose covers and wishing there was a breeze to make things just that little bit cooler. It was the cold, refreshing shower you took when you went inside then had an afternoon nap because it was so hot. It was the late afternoon thunderstorm, like clockwork around 3 pm, when you sat on your ‘stoep’ or patio, and watched the clouds build into dark grey masses of angry. A thunderstorm in SA is a magnificent thing to see. They are fierce, unapologetic, magnificent in their majesty and you are left in awe of their power. Car alarms would sound down the block when the thunder hit, the house alarm would go off, the dogs would howl and it would be a cacophony of fierceness. Then as suddenly as it hit, it was over. The clouds dissipated, the sun shone again, the garden smelt of scents released by the rain and the wind and we all jumped back in the pool without a care in the world. Towels that were left out in the rain, and were sodden, are quickly dried by the dry heat of the African sun.
Picture courtesy of my husband when he visited a few years ago
The summers in SA are different to the ones I experience here in the UK. Summer here is softer, more genteel. More refined. The temperature is pleasantly warm, not hot and dry. Summer in England is the buzz of bees around country gardens. It’s the chirrup of birds in trees and the chattering of squirrels. It’s the soft pitter-patter of raindrops against leaded panes, the steady swish of the rain as it falls in sheets. It’s the rushing around bringing everything in before the rain hits, because the temperature drops and one can’t count now on the scorching African sun to dry everything out within minutes.
Where summer in Africa is a fierce warrior, full of extremes, summer in England is a genteel country gentleman, full of nuance. I love the differences, I’ve been fortunate to experience them both. I like them equally, not having a favourite. Both have their own charms and quirks. A little like me.
To take part in the giveaway, go to the blog hop page here and leave a comment (Share your best summer memory, or your favorite summer tips or activities)
The Men of London are at again…well, not quite at it in THAT way, you understand, (okay, well, maybe just a little…) but there is another book in the series featuring the lives and loves of the Men in London due out on the 28th July. It’s called Hard Climate and you can pre-order it here.
If you’d like to join the Hard Climate Release party on Facebook, with the chance to win goodies, including some intriguing sexy ones, then head down here and join. It’ll be fun, I promise and you may come away with one of those strange, but erotic gifts.
As a celebration of this being the eighth (and so far) final book in the series, book one, Love You Senseless is going to be made available for 0.99 from 14th July. So why not read the first book in this British series when the promotion starts and if you like it, there’s seven more to enjoy. From chefs to psychics, cross dressers to suit-loving porn stars, and cheeky sassy fashion divas to love’s first kiss or eco-warriors, there’s something to appeal to everyone.
If you’d like a more visual look at the Men of London, head down here and watch the book trailers.
Men of London is a series about different men, from all walks of life, living in London and living their lives. They all have nothing in common with each other but the stories are interconnected in one way or another.
I’m loving this series, I really am! Eddie, Gideon, Taylor, and Draven all play a part here, and for that I am eternally grateful! I love we get to catch up with them as well as delving into the fashion and porn world.
Soooooooo awesome. Seriously, you can never go wrong with Susan’s books. They’re like a romp through a broken heart’s dreams and then kisses to make it all better.
Another terrific pairing of two mismatched but ultimately destined to be together Men of London. This series just gets better and better…
Susan Mac Nicol has a way with words, and her Men of London are just another reason I want to jump in a plane and plan a trip…….I want to find these guys and hug them all, and never let go. Thank you Susan for writing such a wonderful book, one that will be read over, and over again.
I love that this series intersects the lives of these couples. You fall in love with them and even though you don’t get full information you still get little snippets of their lives in the next book.
Men of London brings new and interesting relationships with every instalment. Yet somehow, your favorites from previous books are all there and their circle of friends keeps expanding. It’s a smart way to link the series and keep fans close to their earlier character crushes.
Eeek! The Damaged Goods tour has begun with some wonderful bloggers taking part. Thanks so much to the wonderful Kirsty Vizard from Embrace the Rainbow tours for hosting this tour for me. Kirsty rocks!
Please join us on the tour, take part, and put your name down to win some goodies too. Thanks for the support.
Title: Damaged Goods Author: Susan Mac Nicol Series: Men of London #7 Release Date: April 28th 2016 Genre: New Adult MM Contemporary Romance
Touched by tragedy, love is an elusive dream never to be realised by eighteen-year-old Jax Grady–until he discovers his secret admirer and receives the sweetest gift he could ever desire.
THE SWEETEST GIFT
Tragedy and horror shaped Jackson Grady’s life, leaving him orphaned and scarred. At eighteen he’s ready to claim his future, but who could love his disfigured face and damaged soul? Definitely not a big, burly, beautiful Irish Traveller who is entirely the stuff of dreams.
Dare Rowan didn’t mean to become obsessed with the blue-eyed man he first saw across a field, but that porcelain skin and innocent air demanded another meeting. Jax has the face of a wounded angel, and the rest of the young man is as heart-breakingly perfect. Jax is beautiful in every way and teaching him about love and life will be something Dare will embrace. Like unwrapping and savouring the candy at the shop where he works, Dare will show this young man everything Jax desired but never thought he’d have, and take Jax to new highs while he holds him through the lows. Between them, they’ll find out just how sweet life can be.
Dare clamped his lips together mutinously as he hunkered down behind a towering oak. The tree lay on the outskirts, in the garden of a large Georgian house. From a distance, Dare watched as the beautiful blond man he’d been observing, thank you very much, tenderly placed what looked like flower bulbs in the rich soil. The man—whom Dare had first called Angel, though he now knew his name was Jax thanks to the younger kids playing in the garden yelling to him—leaned over. His pert jean-encased backside pushed out into the air and Dare swallowed, mesmerised by the enticing sight. A pang of guilt washed over his skin at the sneaking knowledge that yes, he could actually be deemed a stalker.
“I’ve only watched him a few times,” Dare murmured under his breath. “It’s not like I’m some pervert checking through the windows. I mean, the guy is in plain sight and there’s no boundary fence, so why shouldn’t I look? Anyone would. God, he’s gorgeous. A flawed angel with those blond curls and blue eyes.”
His wistful voice echoed in the quiet of the forest surrounding the large house called Castaways. It was some sort of place for homeless kids, Dare thought. He’d found this vantage point by accident one day when he’d been out gathering bits of greenery for his boss, Sally, an eccentric seventy-year-old woman who owned the sweet shop he’d managed for the past three years.
Some weeks ago, Sally had decided she wanted to display certain wildflowers in their place of work. She was also heavily into aromatherapy at the moment, so she sent Dare out each week to pick new blossoms and plants to further her ambitions to be a “flower child,” as Dare teasingly called it. He hadn’t minded. It had become a pleasant routine to take the short tube ride to Camden to perform what Sally loftily called his “ecological duties.” This secluded part of the woods around the area was the best place she knew of to find the flowers. Dare had caught sight of the beautiful man in the garden tending to a bunch of what looked like unruly kids, and now, having seen his Angel, Sally could send him out every day and Dare wouldn’t mind.
“But that would make me a stalker,” he said to himself. “So I’m not one now—yet.” He huffed and ducked back behind a bush as Jax turned to stare fixedly in his direction from underneath his wide-brimmed straw hat, an item Dare found rather endearing.
Susan Mac Nicol is a self- confessed bookaholic, an avid watcher of videos of sexy pole dancing men, geek, nerd and in love with her Smartphone. This little treasure is called ‘the boyfriend’ by her long suffering husband, who says if it vibrated, there’d be no need for him. Susan hasn’t had the heart to tell him there’s an app for that… She is never happier than when sitting in the confines of her living room/study/on a cold station platform scribbling down words and making two men fall in love. She is a romantic at heart and believes that everything happens (for the most part) for a reason. She likes to think of herself as a ‘half full’ kinda gal, although sometimes that philosophy is sorely tested. Lover of walks in the forest, theatre productions, dabbling her toes in the cold North Sea and the vibrant city of London where you can experience all four seasons in a day , she is a hater of pantomime (so please don’t tar and feather her), duplicitous people, bigotry and self-righteous idiots. In an ideal world, Susan Mac Nicol would be Queen of England and banish all the bad people to the Never Never Lands of Wherever -Who Cares. As that’s never going to happen, she contents herself with writing her HEA stories and pretending, that just for a little while, good things happen to good people.
Sue is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America and is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association in the UK.
SUSAN MAC NICOL 