Seeking Blue: The Next Step

Many of you already know I've written a novel, Seeking Blue. It will be released into the world shortly, though I don't have an exact date yet. Consider this my first official pre-release promotion.

I finished it last March, and apart from last minute edits, revisions and other relatively minor fixer-upper issues, I'm just about ready to put this thing on the market and see what happens. After spending about a year trying to get an agent to bite (I've had a few small ones and one big one), I've decided to self-publish. Because self-publishing inherently lacks the built-in marketing and promotional power of traditional publishers, I have to get creative in getting the word out. This is where you all come in.

I will now tease you with some plot points, in hopes you'll not only buy Seeking Blue (or #seekingblue, for all you twitter-ers, tweeters and twitto-philes) when it's available, but also that you'll tell every one of your book-loving friends and family members to do the same. Also, share my Facebook and Twitter page links with everyone you know who likes to read. And even those who don't, what the hell.

Or at least write a good review on Amazon.com.

And ask your local bookstore to stock it.

And tell your mother.

And all your real and virtual friends, acquaintances and coworkers who live far away from you.

Here's the jacket cover summary, or what you'll see on the back of the book if you were perusing the aisles of your local bookstore. (The one you're going to beg to stock it, remember?) 

Jack Wasserman, an irascible 53-year-old pharmacist, is resigned to living out his days alone and unwilling to confront his painful past. But when he receives a surprise letter from Noah, the son he gave up two decades earlier, Jack finally takes the necessary steps toward fulfilling his overdue role as a father. On his voyage across oceans, cultures and generations, Jack’s path—equal parts trying, amusing, and cathartic—intersects with those of his fading son and the wife and mother once thought dead, as all three learn valuable lessons about forgiveness and new beginnings.

Pretty good, right?

More hints: the story takes place in Montreal, Australia, and the South Pacific, all places I've personally been. Oooohhhh.....

It took me upwards of ten years to pen this fabulous work of fiction. This includes the directionless task of banging out a first draft—basically a piece of crap that resembled the early remnants of the Big Bang, a shapeless tangle of words with no purpose other than to elicit chaos—in addition to countless hours of trying to improve it. In 2005 I met a woman named Sue at a writer's conference who introduced me to a group of others who basically showed me that my writing was nothing short of...shit. Sue and the writer's group members have continued to be great friends and of immeasurable help in helping me become a better writer. And be patient.

Slowly, and with tons of feedback and critique, including from Tanya's book club, the only ones besides my writers group that have read Seeking Blue in its entirety (okay, full disclosure: my sister and brother in law have also read it), my baby sauntered along through various iterations of plot changes, character developments and redevelopments, grammar improvements, tense and point-of-view modifications, scene enhancements, deletions and additions, etc, etc. I did these over lunch hours, nights, weekends, and any other >5 minute time span I could find. While working and being a husband and father.

This is not a veiled attempt to fish for compliments or "it-couldn't-have-been-that-bad" type of comments on your part. No, I will say with absolute certainty and an utter clarity of mind that until a few years ago, I had no discernible writing skill. To say that as recently as 2009, I would never publish anything in my life, would have been entirely reasonable.

The point is, I persevered because I loved creating characters and situations and baring my soul through them, and expressing myself via the page. I read more, wrote more, worked on the craft (continue to do so; its a lifelong endeavor), sought out people who could help me, critiqued others' work and suffered through my own being absolutely torn to shreds (no exaggeration). I'm by no means Hemingway or Steinbeck, but I finally can admit—with confidence, not conceit—that I am pretty good.

More to come...