They call it “white blindness” — when people who are about to wed, spend mindlessly without thinking about the costs. I get it. It’s an emotional time. And there is no price tag too large for your fantasies. (For example: “I’ve always dreamed of riding into the church on a unicorn so I’m going to rent a white horse and pay someone to attach a candlestick to its forehead!”)
So here’s a video to help you have a fabulous wedding while saving some money for the important part: the rest of your married lives.
After I clicked “publish” on Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing program, I sat back and waited for my life to change.
It was as if I thought self-publishing my teen vampire novel, What Kills Me, would be transformative: kind of like when Prince Adam raises his sword and becomes He-Man. Following six months of writing and spending about $2,000 preparing my ebook for publication, by the power of Amazon, I was now an author.
Except that putting your book for sale on Amazon feels like dropping a single grain into a bag of rice — you need to paint it green or point it out, or else how will anyone distinguish it from the rest? So nothing happened. And I felt no different.
Read the rest of my self-publishing journey in the National Post, Dec. 14, 2012.
And in case you missed it: Part One: How and why I self-published
Also, you can find my alter ego, Wynne Channing, online:
Where to buy the bestselling, top-rated novel: What Kills Me
My journey as an indie author began in the National Post newsroom. My editor friends, Maryam and Nathalie, urged me to self-publish What Kills Me and the task seemed too gargantuan to tackle. Finally, my books editor, Mark Medley, suggested that I do it and write about the experience. Well, I can do that. That’s what I do every day as a reporter. Become an expert in [insert random topic here: flying squirrels, mergers and acquisitions, etc.] on a daily basis. I can learn about this self-publishing thing by doing!
The first installment of the two-part feature is finally published! And on December 17 at 10:30 a.m. EST, I will be hosting a live-chat on the National Post‘s website including Mark Lefebvre, director of self-publishing at Kobo, and Tina Folsom, who has sold hundreds of thousands of her paranormal romance novels. Please tune in to be a part of the discussion and to ask the experts all of your questions!
How Melissa Leong became Wynne Channing to publish her teen vampire novel, National Post, Dec. 8, 2012
It used to bug me when people said, “Oh, when I retire, I’ll become a writer, maybe publish a book or two.”
Really? Because when I retire I’m going to become an engineer —was my imagined reply, and presumably that of many writers before me.
They made it sound as if publishing a book was something easy, something anyone could do with the click of a button.
Now, of course, it is.
To read the rest in the Post, click here!
If you are reading this, odds are you are not bored. At this moment, your attention is actively engaged. I can’t say for how long but I know that once you lose interest, you will blame me: this article is dull, this writer is boring.
But in trying to understand this universal feeling, researchers are increasingly asking: What does your boredom say about you?
“Kids have a term for it, ‘Boregasm,’ where you’re hit with a 1,000 pounds of boredom at once,’’ says Albert Nerenberg, a Montreal-based filmmaker who just released a documentary about boredom.
“For many years, [I and a film crew] did these satires of politics where we’d go into real situations with fake actors. We wouldn’t be able to do our stuff until the end. We’d sit for 45 minutes of political speeches and I experienced the [symptoms] of boredom: one is wanting to poke your eyes out or chew your arm off. Boredom produces self-destructive feelings.” Read more…
I clearly am not a pool party person… This travel article appeared in the National Post on June 3, 2012.
In a pool packed with writhing bodies at Liquid Pool and Lounge at Aria Hotel in Las Vegas, I couldn’t take my eyes off of a young woman. She stood in the shallow end with a drink in her hand, her hair in ringlets, her unsmiling lips thickly glossed. Her hips had been doing the same rotation for 20 minutes and I was surprised she hadn’t created a whirlpool around her. She twirled to the Lil Wayne song blaring on the speakers and for the first time, I could clearly make out the tattoo on her back. It was of a cartoon kitten.
Around her, bikini-clad waitresses carried $400 bottles of Grey Goose vodka as if they were Olympic torches. Meanwhile, a guy walked in wearing a T-shirt that said “I [heart] my vagina.”
Producers looking for board games that can be adapted into movies will find an abundance of choice. Just think, Snakes and Ladders starring Samuel L. Jackson (“You’re going the f–k down!”). Or Malarky, the story of Kris Humphries and Kim Kardashian’s wedding.
For now, audiences have Battleship, a booming, brainless blockbuster based on the 1967 guessing game. Let’s see how the movie fares in a game against itself: