Elisabeth Grace Foley

Historical Fiction Author

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What Have We Learned?

April 15, 2014 by Elisabeth Grace Foley 2 Comments

With indie publishing, the process of launching each new book into the world is a learning experience in itself. This can sometimes be slightly harrowing, when you discover in mid-publication things that you ought to have known and must master on the run. But it’s also very satisfying, if you like learning new things and how to apply them. In my own modest career as an indie publisher, I have been both harrowed and made happy on each go-round, but I can always say for sure that there will be more for me to learn next time.

So what have we learned from our latest adventure in publishing?

  • We have unfortunately confirmed our tendency to do things in the wrong order. In the future we shall have our cover and interior files finished and tested long before we even begin to consider possible release dates.
  • We love Rafflecopter. The site is so fun and easy to use and it makes giveaways a breeze.
  • We must write longer books, if only to avoid issues with design for thin book spines.
  • Running headers give us headaches, but after wrestling with them on two books, we think we may have got the hang of it and will be able to handle them more assuredly next time.
  • We have an extremely patient and resourceful cover designer, as well as patient and supportive blogging friends who kindly put up with our publicity skills being a work in progress—for all of whom we are deeply thankful.
  • And if you’re not tired of multiple first-person by this time, we recommend P.G. Wodehouse’s Uncle Fred in the Springtime, which contains the hilarious scene that inspired us to write in it.

Filed Under: Humor, Publishing, The Writing Life

Authors are Human

April 12, 2014 by Elisabeth Grace Foley 4 Comments

There are times in this indie author’s life when I feel quite professional—usually when I’m doing professional things like formatting an ebook or creating an Amazon listing or designing my own business cards. But there are other times—such as when I’m sitting on a piano bench in a dining room full of bedroom furniture, wearing paint-splotched old clothes and a dollar-store baseball cap and trying to do book marketing on my laptop—when I suddenly look around me and feel like a monstrous imposter.

Me, a professional author? Oh, no. I’m just some starry-eyed little girl who makes up stories and thinks they’re good enough to be called Fiction, who is kindly humored by retailers that allow her to offer her books for sale on their websites.

And then I begin to remember. Authors are human. Authors, with a capital A, even those who have the emblem of some prestigious publishing company on the spines of their books, actually exist in real life, beyond the glossy covers and literary journal reviews. Authors paint their houses, and presumably look like frights while doing it. Authors have to take their dogs out to play, and cook dinners, and probably wonder while they’re doing it why anybody in their right mind would want to buy a book written by someone as ordinary as them.

And then I don’t feel quite such an imposter anymore.

image: detail from “Day in the Life of a Girl” by Norman Rockwell

Filed Under: The Writing Life

2013 in Books

January 7, 2014 by Elisabeth Grace Foley 4 Comments

I can tell you the exact number of books I read in 2013, since I participated in Aubrey Hansen‘s fun reading challenge on Goodreads, with a special shelf to keep track of entries. The number was 106. However, that does cover everything that Goodreads regards as a “book”—individual short stories, novellas, plays, etc. The comparative largeness of the number makes me feel a little embarrassed; I don’t know exactly why. (I can just hear Miss Pole saying, “Really, its proportions are quite vulgar!”) It must look like I do nothing but read, or that I read nothing but fluff. But honestly, it’s neither. I’ve always been a fast reader, and the way my life has arranged itself, I have a fair amount of time to spend on reading, if I choose to spend it that way (and I usually do). If you’re interested in seeing the full year’s list, the shelf is here. Meanwhile, here are some of the highlights, with links to my reviews:

I made a resolution to read more classics this year than I did last, and I think I did pretty well on that. My first big classic novel of the year was Dickens’ Little Dorrit, and I eventually added The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Great Gatsby and The Red Badge of Courage. The latter two I knew of as books that frequently appear on school reading lists, and after reading them I found that circumstance a little puzzling—they seemed much less accessible or appealing than many other classics; while I found things to enjoy in them, I can’t see them as books that would readily spark a love of literature in a new student. I also meant to read more poetry, hence I worked my way through Shakespeare’s complete Sonnets, dividing my time between highlighting gems of phrases or ideas and wandering through murky tangles of involved wording! I also read Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, over a rather long space of time.

I worked my way through some interesting short story collections over the course of the year: Kipling’s Plain Tales From the Hills, Mary Wilkins Freeman’s A Humble Romance and Other Stories, Damon Runyon’s Guys and Dolls, and a couple by Stephen Crane, including his Civil War collection The Little Regiment and Other Stories. Turning my attention to the stage, I began reading some Gilbert and Sullivan—they’re a hoot! The Pirates of Penzance is my favorite so far.

In theology, the standouts were Martyn Lloyd-Jones’ Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (a carry-over from 2012) and J.C. Ryle’s Practical Religion, both hefty volumes thoroughly well worth reading. And Lloyd-Jones’ A Nation Under Wrath, which was, briefly, stunning. My other nonfiction reading, as usual, was largely history: The Longest Day by Cornelius Ryan, A Time to Stand by Walter Lord, A Secret Gift: How One Man’s Kindness and a Trove of Letters Revealed the Hidden History of the Great Depression by Ted Gup, Home Front Girl: A Diary of Love, Literature and Growing Up in Wartime America by Joan Wehlen Morrison (goodness, those nonfiction subtitles!). Also a couple more good Western memoirs: No Time on My Hands by Grace Snyder and A Tenderfoot Bride by Clarice E. Richards. And I finally read The Elements of Style, which was every bit as good as it’s cracked up to be.

2013 will go down in my reading history as The Year I Discovered Mary Stewart. Besides Nine Coaches Waiting, which of course appeared on my top-ten list for the year, I read The Moonspinners, The Gabriel Hounds and Airs Above the Ground, and I am quite glad there are about half a dozen more books of hers that I can spin out and make last as long as possible.

In the Western genre, my most significant reading was at last discovering Dorothy M. Johnson and Eugene Manlove Rhodes; I read multiple books by both. I also read the Complete Western Short Stories of Elmore Leonard, an impressive volume I mean to try and seriously review one of these days; and then tried one of his novels, The Law at Randado, which unfortunately didn’t strike me as well. I enjoyed Louis L’Amour’s High Lonesome, and a couple more books by B.M. Bower—my dear parents surprised me at Christmas with a vintage copy of The Swallowfork Bulls, which I’d long been wanting to read!

I didn’t read too many new mysteries, either; most of my time in that genre was taken up by my Agatha Christie re-reading project. The Man In Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart was great fun; The Governess by Evelyn Hervey looked promisingly charming but turned out to be just okay; Was It Murder? (a.k.a. Murder at School) by James Hilton—his sole mystery, I believe, published under a pseudonym—was quite entertaining, even if I did guess the solution! I also read the first in the Flavia de Luce series, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, which was quirky but interesting. I may venture further into the series this year.

Speaking of James Hilton, his Goodbye, Mr. Chips and Random Harvest were among the other novels of various genres that I greatly enjoyed. Some more: All This, and Heaven Too by Rachel Field, Mrs. Mike by Benedict and Nancy Freeman, Kate Fennigate by Booth Tarkington, Fraulein Schmidt and Mr. Anstruther by Elizabeth von Arnim, The Magic City by Edith Nesbit.

(If you missed my top-ten list, you can find it here.)



Filed Under: Reading, Reviews

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