The Pyrenees---Southern France

The Pyrenees---Southern France

Friday, July 6, 2018

I Was Feelin' HotHotHot and Back-of-the-Book Blurb # 106

Last week I was muy caliente. Not my body. Not my physical appearance. Not some chili I was eating. No, I was hot. Every square inch of me was glistening with the sheen of sweat.

Last Thursday a severe storm hit. Crazy things were happening in our neighborhood with the trees and the trashcans. The tornado siren went off. I headed to the basement, after trying (with no success) to get Radar downstairs. (An old woman + a 78-pound dog + steep, open stairs = no luck)

While I was in the basement I heard a loud boom, then the electricity was out. That is not an unusual thing. Many times the transformers are blown, and we're powerless for a while.

After hearing that noise, I thought I'd brave the rain and wind to get my houseplants that were outside. The crazy wind might have blown them over. I stepped out onto the carport to see if my plants were topsy-turvy... and I couldn't even see my plants...

... because my plants were buried under a whole yard of huge tree branches that had been downed. A large dead branch from one of our neighbor's tree' was propped up against the house. There were mountains of branches all over our yard. 

Radar looking cool--before the lights went out (not in

Here's how the story ended: We were without power for five days. I started and finished a new Stephen King book (The Outsider) by flashlight, as I lay in a pool of sweat. (The story was so compelling, it made me forget--sometimes--my discomfort.) Luckily, I had a mini work retreat already scheduled, so for a day and half of those five sweltering days, I was sucking up the AC. (And suck up I did. As soon as I got into my motel room, I turned the AC down to 66 degrees and shivered with delight.) The electric guys came and secured the live line, so Radar could go into our backyard to drop a deuce. (Peeing was fine in the front yard, on a leash, but he refused to poop in the front yard.) My husband wrestled with the part of the electric line that connected to the roof (because that is not the electric company's problem, apparently) and then reconnected it. The electric guys came back and electricity was restored. The tree guys came and got rid of the mountains of branches (which had become Radar's obstacle course and playland).

Thankfully, life is back to normal here, which means it's time for back-of-the-book blurb business.

Look at the photo below. That is the cover of your bookYou choose the genre. Is it a coffee table book on candid pool pics? Is it a photo collection of crazy kids doing crazy things? You decide.

        Write an enticing blurb--150 words or less. (The title doesn't count in the word count.) Blurbs are those enticing bits that prod you into buying the book. Sometimes they're on the back cover of the book. Sometimes they're on the inside front cover. What they always try to do is lure you into purchasing the book. 

          Lisa Ricard Claro was the original creator of this writing challenge. She moved to Florida, she's gone through three cabana boys (they don't have the energy to keep the pool clean enough, constantly falling behind and are always falling short when compared to Lisa's word count) and Lisa's too busy to host a weekly book blurb. Check out her blog, along with her books. She's a wonderful writer and a wonderful friend.
          Include your blurb in a blog post. Include a link to this post. Also, link your post to Mr. Linky. Mr. Linky is easy. If you've never done it, you'll be impressed with how simple he is. And then, check out the other blurb(s). It's interesting to see the different directions writers take, given the same photo.

           Here's the book cover, along with my blurb:

Cast Envy

Susie had always wanted a broken leg, ever since her friend Bridget had gotten one. Bridget got pushed around in a wheelchair. People carried things for her. Everybody signed her cast. Bridget was the center of attention... 

A couple of summers later, Susie was at the pool across the street--like she was every day. Over and over she jumped off the high diving board, slice like a knife through the water and emerge sputtering and dripping.

But then something happened. Susie fell. She didn't make it to the end of the diving board. Somehow, she slipped under the handrails, like a thread through the eye of the needle.

Splat! Most of Susie landed in the diving tank, but her arm landed on the cement. 

Would a broken limb be all that Susie dreamed it would be? Or, would it be simply be a pain in the neck--um, arm?

And for those clamoring to write a book blurb and would like to work ahead, here is the photo for next week: