independent authors

Smoke Free (Tuesday’s Tell All)

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

Smoke Free is a weird little story conceived in the smoke of a brush fire. I was out in the woods snapping pictures one day, the images forming in the smoke combined with a twisted imagination and tada! The rest is history. 

The photos below show the cover; from the first photograph to the finished cover.

Smoke Free is probably the only book cover we have not changed at least a dozen times. The truth is I have never wanted to change it. I love this cover and the image of that little pumpkin smoking a cigar never fails to amuse me. (I have the husband to thank for that.)

I had never heard of Irwin Smutter before that day and he (like the cigar smoking pumpkin) still amuses me with his absolute weirdness; him and the bizarre world he resides in.

And here’s a bite sized sample of the lunch break tale …

The room appeared empty other than an oversized sofa. Irwin reposed himself against the frigid vinyl, crossed his feet and sighed. A lively timbered scene covered the wall opposite the door, designed in such a way it almost looked like a window. Beyond the dull sheen of the pretend window was a forest where rays of sunshine cut through a smoky haze. The remaining walls were un-textured, pale and bare. The room smelled of sandalwood and acetone, a bizarre sweetness that sickened and comforted him at the same time. Irwin shifted nervously on the stiff upholstery in search of a warm spot. There was none.

The faux leather, the lifeless walls, the fake window – it was all too unsettling. Nothing is real, he thought, stretching his arms until his hands met above his head. Fads! The world has been reduced to kooks, phonies, and fads. Reassured by his own summation, Irwin interlaced his fingers and stretched further. When the joints in his entwined hands refused to pop, he rested them at the base of his neck.

Smoking cessation. Yeah, right. It was not Irwin’s idea. Irwin enjoyed smoking. The pungent smell of a fresh-lit cigarette made bitter coffee sweet. Smoking was one of the few things he looked forward to each day. A good smoke, a little booze, a lot of caffeine and Evie. 

_________________________

These type short shorts were written at a time I was really into the flash fiction form of writing.

Oh. Oh. Oh. I can’t wait until you reach the end. 

Short Story Month (Door Number Four)

/ Janna Hill / 1 Comment

Door Number Four was possibly one of the funnest short stories I’ve ever written.

It was originally written as a paid assignment but blew through the word count.

They weren’t budging on the number of words they wanted and I could not imagine what more I could cut from the story and make it readable.

We were at a stalemate so the deal was abolished. Oh well Que Será, Será.  

I admit I may have become too attached to the story — and too detached from the individual $pecs. So all there was left to do was publish Door Number Four my damn self.
This book (like most) has undergone at least one cover change.

I’m not in love with the current cover but I can change it whenever I want. That’s always fun too.

Here’s the intro.

Donald S. Crowley was a CPA by day; a bean counter; a number cruncher and a certified bore. By night he was as stimulating as the hero in his latest read with all the social skills of a brick. To make matters worse he was in love with a door. Not just any door, number four was special. Donald had become enamored with her when he was just a boy and he believed that she called him by name. Now he would risk his life to see her again and to finally know what lay behind Door Number IIII.

I hope you have endeavored to read a short story, or two, this month. And if you are a writer, I hope that you have written at least one short story.

I think that’s all I shall ever from here forward. 

Right on? Write on!

What’s New? (Tuesday’s Tell All)

/ Janna Hill / 4 Comments

What’s new?

Is nothing and a lot an appropriate answer?

Well it will have to suffice.

Let me first assure you I am not in a funk nor am I suffering from writer’s block.

On the contrary, potential stories abound!! I say potential because none have made it past my imagination.

In the garden, the grocery store, in front of the television or at a restaurant….

The list goes on forever.

So this morning as I was rocking and sipping my coffee (without spilling a drop), I asked myself,

Self, why haven’t you written a damn thing ??? No new books, not even a short story… Not so much as a blog post since April, and by the way you failed miserably at supporting NPM.

I pondered the question while I kept rocking and sipping, listening to the birds, watching the butterflies in the Mimosa tree and waiting for a response.

Finally self answered. Well, (in no chronological order) let’s see...

You got older and slower so multi-tasking got a little harder.

Not nearly enough candles.

You had a birthday and Mother’s Day that went on for weeks-because you have some awesome ass kids.

You had Covid twice…

Your oldest brother died and it is still a painful and fresh wound…

You focused on family…

Remember a large portion of last year was consumed when the home had to be gutted and restored due to the flood after the freeze. And the fishing shack had to have all of the pipes replaced due to the same freeze.

The economy has put a strain on your finances so you’ve had to seriously reconstruct your retirement- and even put the fishing shack up for sale.

You chose to spend a significant amount of time mentoring and advocating for others because you know how it can be…

You spend a lot of time “working” at the pond and in the yard and gardens. But honestly you “meander” as much as you work.

Your dog died and you got a new kitten….

After listening to self for a minute, I said Oookay, and I didn’t feel too bad.

But then the selfish self had to wonder… am I still relevant? Not that I base my self worth on my writing but… you know.

So I typed my name and search-engined myself.

Great. At least I still appear in the www sphere.

But I found a piece of me in a place I had not heard of.

Fnac. F what? 

Est-ce que tu parles français

Lord no. But I have been known to fake it.

So, in a nutshell that is what’s up. Or down.

If you don’t hear much from me it is safe to assume I am probably wandering in the woods or on the beach or working on a story even if it is in my head.

Stay well. Be happy.

XoXo

Read an eBook Week #Tbt

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

Ah I vaguely recall my start as an independent writer; it almost seems like a lifetime ago.

I can’t even remember how I found [the oddly named] Smashwords, but I am glad we connected. Mark Coker’s publishing platform really simplified my life.

And then Draft2Digital with Books2Read came along with their pretty little layouts and boom I had a new crush. And a new distributor.

But I never left Smashwords.

By the way, it is true Smashwords and Draft2Digital are merging and I think that’s a good thing.

I’m not sure if Smashword’s support of the annual Read an eBook will continue in the years to come, but it is going on right now through March 12th. I, of course, am participating. Several of my books are available free or at a drastically reduced price. Just scroll through and check it out.

I believe The Perpetual Series was the first, or one of the first books I published with Smashwords; that was in 2013. Can you believe that?

I recall making the cover from a photograph I had taken of a flower blooming in the yard. Sadly, that flower never returned.

… that flower and so many other things.

Sigh

Happy Thursday Y’all. XoXo

TikToking (Tuesday’s Tell All)

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

Whew, the title alone☝️is a mouthful. Alliteration much?

I haven’t been very productive as a writer (or anything else). I blame it on a lot of things, heck the heat here in Texas by itself is an acceptable excuse [and I have lots of excuses] but the truth is …

I found TikTok about a month ago.

My Lord, I have stayed up late nearly every blasted night for the past month gobbling this junk up like a crack head crashing after a week long binge.

I might need an intervention.

Nah, like most things, I will probably get bored with it and it will be poof! “physician heal thy self.” But until then…

Tik tic- tick tick – TikTok.

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This video doesn’t exist

I’m TikToking @ https://vm.tiktok.com/JL7Qw3J/

An Interview with M.F. Wahl’s Women In Horror (And How I Put My Dog to Sleep)

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

“You can win an Audible audiobook set or one of Janna Hill’s signed paperbacks (winners choice)!”

Just visit M.F. Wahl’s Women In Horror and leave a comment.

“One person will be chosen at random to receive this awesome prize.”

Ready For Takeoff

/ Janna Hill / 5 Comments
Whew! Man, I have been busy!

How busy you ask? Well, busier than a one-armed wench in a fistfight!
I mentioned last month I was starting a new story and indeed, I did. In fact, I started two stories. See, I told you I was busy. Busier than a cat scratchin’ sh*t on a marble floor – and about as productive.
So, I started a couple of new projects only to find out a few older ones had been neglected. Arrrgh, right?! To make a long story short I will be flying solo. This independent business just got real (er). I still have my proofer but… did I tell you how busy I’ve been? Yeah. Busier than the headless horseman in a pie eating contest!
Where is he gonna put all of that pie?
Anyway, a week or so ago we took the evening off and drove to Terrell for the Fly In/ Flights of Our Fathers. We needed a little R & R and nothing says rest and relaxation like walking fifty miles in 110 degree Texas heat – in flip-flops. I’ve got blisters the size of Dallas between my toes! It ain’t pretty y’all.
And the drive… Oh my gosh Terrell is every bit of fifteen miles from where I sleep. That is twenty minutes in the car no matter how you slice it. Lord have mercy, all of this walking and driving and writing and re-writing…

Good News – Bad News

The good news, I half-ass re-re-re- edited the books that make up The Rage Trilogy. I do not believe authors can effectively edit their own work – but I am giving it a go. Physician heal thyself! Hmm, we will see.
I also ran a ‘cuss check’ and omitted 899 a few curse words. I rewarded me with a lollipop.
The bad news, I am behind schedule for the next two projects and people are wanting to rent blister space. Of course I had to tell them NO. I do not need people living on my feet, the ones taking up space in my head are more than enough. I did however offer them my flip-flops.
Anyhow, after all of that prattling I suppose it’s time to put my big girl panties on and ready for takeoff.
Until next time, here are a few shots from the airport.

Living Out Loud

/ Janna Hill / 5 Comments

A bit about the East Texas Book Fest last weekend and then I must get back to writing.


The meet and greet at the Potpourri House Friday evening was entertaining to say the least. Kim and I, myself and Kim, Kim and me (all six of us) found ourselves seated with a journalist, a professor and an adorable retired engineer that had written his first book. The seating was not prearranged, that’s just how it happened. We didn’t mingle much past that due to being inebriated time constraints.

Take 2 cards and call me in the morning.

We barely made it to the book fest on time. Puffy eyed and sleep deprived but on time. We were so excited!
It took all of 30 seconds to arrange our tiny display, say hi to a few folks. ..

Then we were off to check out the festivities. There were authors out the wazoo, writers of everything imaginable, artists and a few esteemed educators but this really grabbed my attention.

Forensic sculptor Amanda Danning was so gracious. Despite our interrupting her lunch, she shared her talent and knowledge with such passion. Between bites of ham and cheese (or was it turkey?) she explained the process of facial reconstruction while her husband narrated the history behind each work of art. They are both amazing.

So all in all I would say the East Texas Book Fest was a success. Will it boost sales? I do not have a clue and you know what? I’m okay with that.  After all, I’m just living out loud and flinging cake against the wall.