Now I’ll have to write something else.
My author’s website is finally up and running and it looks so funky I can’t believe it’s about me.
The site is an online marketing tool for my novel Born Speaking Lies and I'm just crazy about it.
The amazing Ed Velandria, the web designer who somehow made sense out of all my gibberish, put together this slick film noir site complete with review copy, a synopsis of the novel, some eerie images, and a mug shot of yours truly.
There are also links to Amazon and Fomite Press, my publisher, for easy ordering. (No pressure)
Ed handed me the reins to the site on Friday, an evening that came so close to being a fiasco of epic proportions that I’m still shuddering at the memory.
We had planned to meet at the Wholefoods in Park Slope at 3rd Third Street and Third Avenue.
On Friday afternoon Ed sent me an email requesting a change in time, but I completely misread the message and mistakenly believed we were going to meet on Saturday, the following day.
At least that’s what I believed until Friday night when I got a text from Ed telling me that he was at the Wholefoods and gently asking just where the hell I was. Oh, shit…
I let Ed know I was on the way and called car service. The first outfit had a 20-minute wait, which was totally out of the question, but the next company told me they’d send someone over in five minutes.
The car arrived, I jumped in, and prayed we wouldn’t hit traffic. And then, as we got onto the BQE, everything took a sharp turn down Freak Street.
Fare is Foul and Foul is Fare
“How much they say to charge you?” my driver, a rather bulky Middle Easter man, asked while fumbling with his phone.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I forgot to ask.”
“They tell me $16,” the driver said. “That’s too much. You call dispatcher and ask why he charge that.”
Me? I’m the passenger and I wasn’t complaining. Why is he getting upset? But I did as I was told, calling the front office and politely inquiring about the fare.
“That’s what it says on the map,” the dispatcher replied, sounding almost as confused as I was. “Why is he dragging you into the middle of it?”
“I’m not sure.”
Meanwhile I sat quietly looking out the window and wondering how badly I'd get hurt if I opened the door and jumped out of the car.
“Dispatcher won’t take my call,” the driver said. “So I call owner and he said to charge you $13, not $16.”
“Well, thank you,” I said, stunned but relieved. “I really appreciate your efforts.”
Now I don’t want to be all self-centered and paranoid and say that shit like this only happens to me…but shit like this only happens to me!
We got downtown without any further weirdness, I met up with Ed and promptly fell in love with my site.
I’m currently looking to set up a book launch party and some bookstore signings, and yes, I’ve started work on a new project.
I’ll probably have another meeting with Ed when my next work comes out to update the site, but this time I think I’ll take the bus.