New Arrivals

by Shannon Baker

This is book launch time and I’ve been all over the place talking about Tattered Legacy. I think it’s a great book and you’ll love it. I mean, it’s full of Hopi Indian legends, polygamists, aliens, super-wealthy and politically powerful Mormons and more iconic scenery than you can stuff into 350 pages—so what’s not to love?

But I’m sort of ADD and I wrote that book a while back so, for me, that was then. What is now, though, what has me wiggling in my seat with anticipation, is the NEXT thing in our lives. The Puppy Stork is winging her way to our house, bringing us a bouncing baby bundle of puppy love. We’re scheduled to pick up our 8-week old Weimeraner girl in mid-May.

We lost our last Boxer in 2011 and we’ve been a lonely, sad, dogless couple since then. We ached for a new dog but knew we were destined for a nomadic and pretty chaotic life until we pulled the plug on gainful day jobs and both became stay-at-homes. We made the choice to wait and it’s been a long, desolate trudge, both to the end of the paycheck producing situation and through the puppy drought.

I cringe to compare puppies and babies. When I had my daughters, I lived in rural Nebraska and the references to me and heifers didn’t make me grin. Dogs aren’t people so I’m not a dog mom. But dogs are a specialness all to themselves. At the same time better but not quite on par with people and the love for pets is deep and real. So, yeah, this has some of the same heart-tugs as bringing a baby home.

And as with having babies, I suppose I’ve blocked some of the less desirable details. After all, I did have more than one baby, so I’m obviously pretty good at selective memory.

I’m remembering the good parts of puppies. I can’t wait to cuddle and laugh at puppy antics. I am anticipating bonding and having that loyal, loving companion. I’m not focused so much on the housetraining. The books make it sound so easy. They sleep, they wake up, you run them outside to their spot, they go, you praise them, play with them, there are no accidents, they go back to sleep, you repeat the cycle. In two weeks, they’re reliably trained.

It’s a vague memory from my last puppy, but I think I followed the books. I don’t remember it being that easy.

Then there’s the crate training. Again, the book says it will be a lark. Puppies like their crates. It’s safe and quiet and homey. They will sleep in them all night. No problem. But I think I remember nighttime crying. Shoe loss, furniture damage, holes in the yard, barking. All of these issues are dispatched with positive and preventative training. I find it easy to believe the promises of the puppy book and truly believe our puppy will be nothing but pure joy and will grow into a well-trained, neurosis-free, perfect companion.

But then, I write fiction.

Speaking of which—Tattered Legacy, the third book in the Nora Abbott Mystery Series is available now at your favorite book venue. There are no puppies in it, but there is an aging golden retriever. And lots of mystery and murder and Hopi, polygamists, aliens, rich Mormons and Moab’s amazing landscapes.

Rolling a Snowball Uphill: My Theory on Book Marketing

by Shannon Baker

Happy Book Birthday to Tattered Legacy whose official release date was yesterday. This is the third book in the Nora Abbott series and my fourth published book. AND I KNOW NOTHING. (Raise your hand if you added, “Jon Snow.”)

I am a marketing novice, fumbling around, making mistakes, missing opportunities. But here’s the thing, I knew less than nothing before I started out. By the time my first book came out in 2010, I’d been an active member of Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers for so long I think they called me Granny Shanny behind my back. I was published with a nano press, the puppy mill of presses, and knew I was on my own.

I’d heard about promotion and had taken notes in a zillion (give or take a few) workshops. So I sent out press releases and pleas for reviews. I think the only reviewer that bit was the famed Harriot Klausner (is she still around?) and man, she reviewed everyone.

When the first of the Nora books hit the shelves, I was smack in the middle of a new job. Midnight Ink got it reviewed with the big guys and they had distribution, so I sent out some emails, did one book launch signing, and signed up for a few conferences. I couldn’t see that my efforts made any great difference in sales. But I had a whale of a great time at conferences meeting other writers, hearing what they were up to, both in the writing and marketing side.

One marketing expert told me not to waste my money on conferences. They don’t sell books. But for me, conferences are fuel. I love writers and getting to hang out with them for several days in a row is heaven. I never counted conferences as a marketing tool, that was “me” time for which I must carry around the attendant guilt.

But over and over I was getting the defeating message that all efforts were futile. Blog tours didn’t work. Book signings were a waste of time. I knew from personal experience that press releases were like blowing dandelion seeds into the wind. In the meantime, life threw me for a slight loop-de-loop and when Broken Trust came out last March, I let the defeatists win me over.

Why bother? I didn’t set up one single launch event. I can’t remember if I visited any blogs. I think I probably posted on Facebook a time or two. I threw up my hands and cried uncle. I still went to the conferences, not believing they were doing much for my career, but because they were so much fun.

I’m not sure exactly what happened to smack me upside the head and pull me out of that sad, dark place. It could have been that a bestselling writer, one I’d met at these “fun” conferences, offered to read a the first few chapters and synopsis of a new book I was working on and praised it. Or maybe because my editor loved the book I’d just turned in and said it was the best so far. It could be a nomination for an affirming award or maybe it was that winter finally pulled down the curtain and spring bloomed bright and warm (no small consideration). Whatever the cause, the effect was me emerging from my stupor to start paying attention to marketing.

A friend prodded me with Guerrilla Marketing’s tip to do five things every day, even if they’re small. I got a few bits of SWAG, I drew up a marketing plan for Tattered Legacy, broke it down by month, put specific tasks with completion dates…just like a real business.

I had no expectations for this launch. My goal was to do some things that might help but that I would enjoy. I wanted it to be a celebration of publishing this story that I am proud to have written.

Fellow Inkers Cricket McRae and Mark Stevens and me signing at B&N Loveland March 7 

Here’s what surprised me: I decided to plan a blog tour and thought of the most popular sites I knew. It turns out, these conferences I’d felt guilty about spending money on, had presented an opportunity to get to know lots of people. And some of them had popular blogs and readily agreed to host me.

I set up some book signings, again, just for fun. The first one out of the chute, The Bull Bash in Valentine, Nebraska on Valentine’s Day (MI did me the great favor of printing early enough to have books) was a bigger success than I could have imagined. I’ve done a half dozen of the blog stops and they’ve been fun. I sent out a boat-load of press releases and, gasp, gotten about a 30% response rate.

I can’t tell you if any of this will net sales. But I can tell you this, even though it’s a ton more work than not doing anything, it’s way more fun than doing nothing. I am determined to figure out Twitter. So far, I am half-assed with it because I just don’t get how it works. I’m building my email list and even sent out my first newsletter (which isn’t going to be a newsletter but sort of an announcement thing every now and then).

I’m a total marketing novice but I’m starting to see that hardly anyone starts out on top. It’s a growth  process. Some writers take to it naturally and they shoot up. Some of us are slow starters with inching progress, but everyone grows with one reader at a time. Since I normally spend the bulk of my self-esteem energy looking at what I haven’t accomplished or comparing myself to super stars and falling short, it surprised me one day to realize I have made progress. I don’t have fans sending me daily emails, but some people I don’t know have read my books and bought more.

I’m going to end with advice I’ve heard over and over and am only now believing. You can’t do it all so pick a few things you enjoy. Do those. You might not see a big impact but keep doing it. I am convinced that marketing is like rolling a snowball uphill. It’s work and you have to keep pushing but eventually your results will grow exponentially. I’m at the base of the hill so those of you at the top who can let it roll down the other side without effort, do not put a blow torch to my theory.

Today, in celebration of Tattered Legacy hitting the shelves, I’m guest blogging at Dru’s Book Musings and Get Lost in a Story, both with giveaways. And if you don’t win there, pop over to Goodreadsand sign up for a giveaway there, too. 

The Story That Got Away

by Shannon Baker

I had this really great idea for a book. I mean, scorching hot. My daughter and I had occasion to hang out at Denver International Airport and we were struck by some bizarre and disturbing murals. My daughter happened on a website that went into detail explaining a conspiracy theory involving a One World Order group and bunkers below the airport to house the world’s elite in the event of a nuclear holocaust.

I was off and running. Following Internet rabbit holes revealed how extra-terrestrials or aliens from the center of the earth had various plans for DIA. The runways created a Swastika, the murals and other public art warned of biologic warfare. I gathered it all up, plotting, planning, creating a story that wound Hopi legend and belief in Sky People with DIA and stuff worthy of Trilateral Commission mythology.

I stuck Nora (the protagonist of the Nora Abbott Series) in the middle and plopped it all in Moab, UT amid polygamists and environmentalists. I’m telling you people, this was an amazing plot.

According to my editor, it was too amazing.

But, but, but…

She didn’t think it was a great idea to use theories that could easily be debunked with a minimum of real research and wondered if I might be opening myself up for lawsuits by claiming certain far-fetched stories as truth.

I’d written the whole book with the premise of Evil lurking at DIA as the central event. The entire plot was formulated from the seed planted the day we wandered around the airport. I began to examine the book with fresh eyes. If you didn’t know the starting point was the bizarre and unsettling DIA weirdness, how would you see the plot? What would be the most important elements?

There’s Nora, our protagonist and what she’s gone through in the previous two books to bring her to this point. She’s the executive director of an environmental non-profit. There’s her best friend, the woman who is producing a documentary film to advocate for expanding the borders of Canyonlands National Park in southern Utah. Nora’s mother, Abigail always wants to butt in and the books all deal with Hopi tribal history and legends.

When I boiled it all down, I discovered the DIA element was the least important in telling the story I had in mind. I pulled it out without disrupting an already crowded story line.

Other writers understand the way stories develop and morph from first idea to published book. I find it’s good to stay flexible, able to bend the original idea. If you’re like me and get stuck with a questionable premise, it’s great to unfold it and smooth out the crinkles to fold again.

The non-writers in my life are driven to drink (yes, they’d probably drink anyway) by this nutso process. I discuss plots with my favorite guy over cocktails in the hot tub. He’s often more vested in the original idea than I am and gets frustrated when I say casually, “Not anymore. I changed that.”

Eventually the books get made, messy process notwithstanding. What about you, what’s the best idea that you never wrote?

BTW- Tattered Legacy (without the DIA plotline) is available March 8th.

Going Green

by Shannon Baker

*in anticipation of the March 8th release of the second in the Nora Abbott Mystery Series, Broken Trust, I'm reprising a blog I posted for last year's Tainted Mountain release. (and also because I've been traveling and time slipped away from me and it suddenly dawned on me I'm up on Inkspot today!)

“I’m not an environmentalist.” Eyebrows shot up when I announced that at a staff retreat. A shocked silence followed. But not too long of a pause since I was only an accountant and not very important to their real work of saving the planet.

In fact, I was only included in the retreat as a courtesy, and, I’m sure, in hope that I’d spend most of my time behind the scenes in the kitchen preparing meals and breaks. Not me. I sat in on every session, eager to learn about the Grand Canyon Trust, my new employer.

I’m a bone-deep, Atlas Shrugged, return on investment kind of gal. My father was a retailer and financial statements were his bible. I learned terms like margin, overhead, and breakeven before I started kindergarten.

So what was a profit worshipper, like me, doing at a non-profit environmental trust?

Accounting for their cattle operation. About now you’re scratching your head and wondering why a group of largely vegetarians and/or vegans would be running cattle.

It’s totally logical. There is a cattle ranch on the north rim of the Grand Canyon that controls nearly one million acres of high desert, forest, and the most questionable grazing land this Nebraska native has ever seen. It came up for sale and to keep it out of the hands of evil ranchers destroying the land by running too many cows, the Trust snatched it up. But of those million acres, much of it is public lands and there is a requirement to run a minimum of cattle. Thus, the environmentalists are in the cattle business and they needed someone to do the ranch accounting.

I’d moved to Flagstaff after completing my MBA, just off a run at a medical device start-up that had sold for millions. It never occurred to me I wouldn’t jump right into a job at one of the county’s most prestige medical device companies that just happens to be in Flagstaff. Alas, they didn’t want me. I have various theories about why, most of them centering around the wrinkles on my face. But I’ve been a writer for a while so rejection is nothing new to me.

There I was, unemployed in a wreck of a national economy in a town notorious for low wages and a tight job market. The Trust advertised, I interviewed and badda bing, I’m a de facto environmentalist.

To be honest, I’d been living in Boulder, CO just before moving to Flagstaff, so saying I’m not a tree-hugging, granola-cruncher is relative.

Like any good book, my time at the Trust was full of conflict. I never got used to the ebb and flow of finances at a non-profit. However, the perks of working with inspired, passionate, creative people in those amazing landscapes is an experience I treasure.

At lunchtime, while I reheated my leftover beef stew, and they’d quaff some kind of green, lumpy juice they’d made from CFS shares, I got to share laughs and learn about botany, biology, hydrology and Native American culture. They introduced me to quinoa for which I am forever grateful.

They taught me about composting and cold frame gardening. My world view expanded as they shared their travel experiences and knowledge of strange and beautiful places. One woman spent weekends in the southern Arizona desert assisting illegal immigrants. Another woman took me cycling up Snowbowl Road and through Page Springs outside of Sedona. I reached new heights of happy hour accomplishment with another. The ranch manager took me to places on the North Rim that few people ever get to see. Those field trips live in my heart.

Now I’m back up in Boulder living the capitalist dream with all the angst, challenges, rewards and struggles of another start up. I understand my spreadsheets and financial statements. I embrace the word profit. And yet.

I miss the people I worked with daily at the Trust. They believe in something bigger than themselves and are willing to work every day to make the world a better place. I miss the new perspectives they rained down on me daily, the laughter, the friendships. And not least, I miss their soyrizzo burritos!

They taught me a lot at the Trust. Maybe I’m still not a real environmentalist.

But Nora Abbott is.

(Just an update: the start-up, well, it didn't. So now I'm a stay-at-home writer living in the wildes of Nebraska.)

Idea Fairy

by Shannon Baker

Where do you get your ideas?

Writers get asked that all the time. Sit in on writers’ panels and workshops and it’s bound to come up 85.6% of the time. (Yes, I made up the statistic.) Most writers are polite but the overwhelming responses I’ve heard all come down to this: they have so many ideas coming at them so frequently they’re like Minnesota mosquitoes in June.

I want to shout, “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

My measly excuse for a lazy-assed brain churns out ideas at about the same the rate as ice freezing in Tucson.  

I worked on the same novel for nine years because I thought it might be the only good idea I’d ever come up with. Ever. And really, that one didn’t come from me, either. After I told some writer friends about a random news story I found interesting, one of them asked, “When are you going to write the book?”

If I’d been one of those writers who have too many good ideas to use, I’d have figured that out all on my own. But I’m much too dense to see the obvious.  Ideas are doing a kamikaze dive into my brain and I’m wondering if we should have meatloaf for dinner or if I ought to paint the living room red.

But then we moved to Flagstaff a while back. I started reading the paper to acquaint myself with the goings on around town. And there it was--the idea I’d been afraid would never arrive.

So get this: In Flagstaff, just an hour or so from the desert, there is a ski resort, Snowbowl. It’s one of the oldest in the country, dating back to 1938. Did I mention the proximity to the desert, which would hint at lack of water, and, hey, we’re in a drought!

American’s are nothing if not determined. Instead of giving in to logic, Snowbowl’s owners decided to make snow. Still, lack of water and all that. So they are using reclaimed waste water. Grey water. Pretty ingenious, right?

Turns out, not one, not two, but thirteen Native American tribes consider that mountain sacred. It features heavily into their creation stories. Are they happy about the ski resort? Naw. Does treated wastewater tickle them? Not at all.

That’s one big conflict. Perfect for a murder mystery. And I didn’t even need my writer friends, who have ideas to spare, point it out to me.

I started researching tribes in the area and found out, Hopi, one of the smallest tribes in the world lives on isolated mesas and one of their villages is the oldest constantly inhabited village in North America. This small tribe believes they are responsible for the survival of the world. The Whole World.  

Then I got a job working for The Grand Canyon Trust, an environmental non-profit whose mission is protection and restoration of landscapes on the Colorado Plateau. (If you don’t know, and I didn’t before I got the job, the Colorado Plateau covers northern Arizona to southern Utah.) For twenty years I’d lived in the Nebraska Sandhills, where environmentalists are shot on sight. More conflict.

 So my writer’s “What if” bone kicked in and I ended up with all these ideas. When Tainted Mountain opens, Nora Abbott is the owner of ski resort in Flagstaff on a sacred mountain and she’s just won a court victory allowing her to make snow. She’s got environmentalist tendencies which clash with mining interests and big business. The kachinas, Hopi spirits of the mountain, are not pleased. And let’s not even get into the issues with her annoying mother.

The what ifs kept coming and pretty soon I had a bunch of ideas. In fact, I had so many that I ended up with a series.

So now I’m feeling cocky. Look at me, the writer with enough ideas for the next few books.

Then a very successful writer friend of mine brought me back down to where I live. She was talking about her multi-book series and said, “I need to get this book finished so I can work on all these other books I really want to write.”

You mean one mystery series isn’t enough? I should be working on something else? She has so many ideas she doesn’t know where to start. Me? Not so much.

Where will I ever get another idea? 

What about you, where do you get your ideas, and do you have any to spare?