drinking

Free Kindle eBook: The Wrong David

Fall in love with a person you can't have

Free this weekend!

To celebrate the one year anniversary of my first published work, I’m offering my novelette, The Wrong David, free all weekend.


Here are some of the reviews…

“…a very entertaining, sexually wrought, wistful romp throughout the beaches and streets of Marseille.”

“Fuelled by boozy days and nights of over-indulgence David finds a voice we didn’t think he had. The scene is set for a perfect indiscretion – but there’s a twist in the tail!”

“Anyone who has ever secretly longed for the significant other of a close friend will immediately identify with this well-written story set in the South of France. The dialog is sharp and the characters believable. The writing is both funny and poignant. The Wrong David entertains and delivers.”

“I loved this little book and highly recommend you take an afternoon to yourself, grab a bottle of wine, and get lost in Marseille and The Wrong David.”

“…for an endearing look at love, loyalty, timing and being in the moment.”

“An entertaining read that leaves you yearning. Well written and captivating.”


Read all reviews.

Download your copy here.

No Kindle? No problem. Read Kindle books on any computer or device. Click here.

🙂 Once you’ve finished, please let me know how you liked it by leaving your review on Amazon. 

Vintage Cocktail Hour: Corpse Reviver

Corpse reviver #2 cocktail

Waking up the dead.

I thought it appropriate after swallowing Hemingway’s Death in the Afternoon to post the perfect antidote, Corpse Reviver. This cocktail was intended as a hair of the dog type hangover cure.

There are several versions of this recipe, but I tried the gin-based version because I had the ingredients on hand. It also contains absinthe.

Want to learn how to make it? Read on…

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Stuff I Forgot To Tell You

anchorman-2

We’ve recovered from our hangovers. Get ready for some news, bitches.

I meant to get this news out in individual posts before New Years, but that never happened. I blame my tardiness partly on holiday preparations, but it was mostly the coma-like state induced by excessive eating and champagne consumption. So here’s a round-up of the latest news from my little place in this world.

 

The Wrong David with Klimt Tote

Screen Shot 2015-01-07 at 10.04.56 AM

Review of The Wrong David by Christa Wojo

New Reviews for The Wrong David

I was surprised to see two new reviews for The Wrong David. I still feel awed (and terrified) when I find out someone read my book. And I’m stupefied whenever I receive a review, especially 5 stars. I am both humbled and flattered because Max Tomlinson is a highly respected author of noir, dark fiction, thrillers, and Sue Archer runs one of my favorite blogs on writing and editing called Doorway Between Worlds. I thank these reviewers from the bottom of my heart. (These were unsolicited reviews)

 

writers-roast

New Victims for Writers Roast

I have two brave writers willing to be skewered for the Writers Roast. Amanda Mabry will be put over the hot coals first. She’s an “author and bibliophile, redeeming villains and scandalizing saints one chapter at a time…” She submitted a chapter from her fantasy WIP that I really enjoyed reading and you will too.

My next carne asada (as we call it here in Panama) will be Doug Stuber, “a visiting professor of English at Chonnam National University in Gwangju, South Korea.” He requested to be served “with a nice reduced glaze, a side of salt potatoes and pickelled garlic on the side.” I’ll see if I can manage that.

 

Sweet D Coffee Mug Contest

My winners will tell you…

coffee tastes better in a mug with a naked lunatic on it. This took place before Christmas, so I have no excuse for failing to announce my winners for the Mad Genius coffee mug contest. Please, accept my apologies. Congrats to Kim Whaley and Cecil Parsons!

Kim Whaley is my #1 fan on My Sweet Delirium’s Facebook page. She’s been there from the beginning and says she enjoys all the inspirational and funny posts and quotes. Thanks for your support, Kim!

When Cecil Parsons received his mug he tweeted, “I love it and it enhances my coffee flavor.” He also said he was fighting to keep the co-workers from stealing it. I was surprised to hear this, since blogger buddy/beta reader, Charlotta Amato, says my crazy naked man (whom I’ve named Figment) “scares the hell out of her.” I think I’ll take a poll to make sure he’s not frightening people away from my fanpage.

I have another really cool prize coming up this month, so stay tuned and make sure you like Sweet D’s fanpage to participate.

 

 Bernini's Rape of Proseperina

The Sculptor is Finished, Kind of…

I vowed to have my third full length novel done before Thanksgiving, but travel and business prevented me from keeping my promise to myself. I left my poor heroine, Ona, in an excruciating position and felt terribly guilty for abandoning her while I was off living real life.

Read 7 lines from the third book.

After a two-month hiatus, I finally sat down and wrote the ending. I considered it a present to myself on Christmas morning. Although it felt good to get it overwith, the final moment was sort of an anti-climax. After being away from my characters and story for so long, I didn’t feel like I did them justice.

This is not only the ending of the book, but the ending of the whole series, and I intended to build up everything to a such an emotional crescendo that I’d leave the reader bawling their eyes out. As of now, I think it faded out more like a hot fart, but oh, well. That’s part of writing.

At least I know I can write novels and finish them. Now it’s time to learn how to revise. I’m dreading this part. With three books in their crudest forms, where do I begin? Fellow writers, any help is greatly appreciated! I have no idea when I’ll be publishing these babies. Maybe by Christmas 2015? In the meantime, you will enjoy more posts involving Kristine Poole, my amazing sculpture consultant.

 

I know there was more stuff I forgot to tell you…

…but I can’t remember right now. Let me know if I left anything unresolved and share your New Year News below!

Also, please share any revision resources or tips. I have a huge mess to clean up here.

 

Stay classy.

Addiction Explained Without Words

 

What do you think it means?

How does it make you feel?

 

 

Found through FastCoCreate.com

Win The Wrong David on Deranged Writers

best-window-displays_tiffany-co_2013_christmas_01

Hello, my friends! Today’s the last day to enter to win my novelette, The Wrong David, at Deranged Writers for their December Delights festivities. I know it’s kind of a last minute announcement, but I’ve been traveling the past few weeks and I’m totally disoriented. Apologies!

TheWrongDavid.BookCover

To win a copy, just pop by Deranged Writers and visit Anne and Chani. If you’re feeling Scroogy, they will put you in the holiday mood with food, decor, folklore, and travel.

Enter by visiting these posts! (Follow directions at the bottom)

HOLIDAY FOOD & DRINK: BREUDHER

GOOD OLD ST. NICK

CHRISTMAS SONGS VOL. ONE

HOLIDAY DECOR: CHRISTMAS AT TIFFANY’S

HOLIDAY DESTINATION WISH LIST: CHRISTMAS IN PARIS

 

Learn more about The Wrong David.

TIPSY LIT: We want YOU. The real you.

 

Tipsy Lit My Sweet Delirium Lg

“Tipsy Lit is an online publisher that encourages writers to dig into “the deeper” and leave the bullshit at the door. We don’t want the warm and fuzzies. We want the heartbreaking, the brutally beautiful, the grit and grime that leave us wanting more, more, more. We want YOU. The real you. The person you tuck away when you meet someone new for the first time. The person you’re only now discovering.”

 

I’m thrilled to have Ericka Clay, founder and editor of Tipsy Lit on My Sweet Delirium.

I first noticed Tipsy Lit on Twitter. When I visited the website I found a community of gutsy writers who shared my love of adult beverages and ballsy literature. Within the year, Tipsy Lit has evolved from a cool blog hangout into an online magazine and publisher. And Ericka Clay is here to tell us all about it.

 

Ericka, when did the idea for Tipsy Lit sprout in your mind and how has it evolved since?

I actually started Tipsy Lit over a year ago as a Goodreads book club. We were basically small group of readers (and drinkers!) who discussed a book a month in the comfort of our own homes, drink in hand. From there, I created the blog to accompany our book club, but soon the blog became its own force, so to speak, and really helped to form a close community of readers and writers. I knew it would be pretty sweet if we could get into publishing on some level, so from there I launched our literary magazine which introduced me to an entirely new group of writers. Their incredible work inspired to look into publishing longer compilations and here we are!

 

What writers made you interested in literature?

I’ve loved books since I was young, and after reading stories like Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson, The Giver by Lois Lowry and pretty much anything ever written by Judy Blume, I was intrigued by how words could heal me. Of course there were a million other YA authors (S.E. Hinton comes to mind), who also knocked my socks off. It’s hard for me to make a list like this. It could go on forever!

 

You’ve become a hybrid of a writer and editor. What do you enjoy about each role?

Writing plays to my creative side while editing allows me to be the Type A freak I am at heart. Usually writers are all over the place (and don’t worry, I have my moments), but I love lists and calendars and checking things off my lists and calendars, and editing allows me to do that.

 

Are you working on any novels right now?

Yes, I’m working on a novel called White Smoke about a family in modern day small town Arkansas who comes unglued due to the father’s secret affair with a local male resident. The story continues to follow their daughter, Wren, as she grows older and reconnects with her mother after her stint in prison that’s related to her husband’s affair years before.

 

What kind of writing is Tipsy Lit looking for?

We’re open to all genres, but we’re not fans of erotica or gratuitous violence. Really, we want something that makes us think, changes our minds, gives us those “feels” everyone is talking about. I want to see literary quality no matter what the genre.

 

Where is Tipsy Lit published?

 Tipsy Lit is published through Wattpad. I chose Wattpad as our sole distributor because it speaks to my social media marketing heart. There are over 35 million Wattpad users ready to read your work, and the platform makes it uber easy to share stories, so just imagine the exposure an author receives when publishing through us. Not to mention the Wattpad app. I kind of adore it. You can add it to your phone or tab and read free stories ASAP. Reading and free are two of my favorite things, if you haven’t noticed!

 

What do you envision for the future of Tipsy Lit?

Right now, I’m going day by day. I’d like to concentrate on growing our readership and maybe one day look into starting a more mainstream small press. But I don’t know. I’ve still got the laundry to do! 🙂

Ericka Clay on My Sweet Delirium

Thanks so much to Ericka Clay for joining us on My Sweet Delirium. Leave any comments or questions you have for her below, and don’t forget to hook up with Tipsy Lit using the following links.

Wanna get tipsy? Pick your poison.

Read

Submit

Follow

Like

Tribe

Subscribe

 

#Wine for the #WordNerd and #Writer

Flumen Dorium Spanish Wine

Hoping this will improve the vocab.

Behold twelve dollars of dry, oaky, velvet deliciousness from Thesaurus Bodegas in Spain.

Though I haven’t become a catalogue of synonyms after drinking Flumen Dorium, it was one of the most exceptional bottles of wine I can remember under $20. It could even kick the pants off many over $20 wines. I found this little gem at the local Pricesmart of all places. I don’t know if it’s available in the US, but if you see this wine grab it!!!

Yes, I’m a dork and bought it because it said ‘thesaurus.’ I usually choose my wine first by the price tag, then by the artistic merit of the label. Sometimes I end up with a bottle of swill, but I hit the wino jackpot this time. More fuel for finishing the The Sculptor series!

Existential Nihilism and the Dead Dog Blues

RIP Roscoe Wojciechowski

I’ve been avoiding this article for a long time, which is a sure sign that it must be written. As individuals, we often hide from the truth, especially about ourselves. Our souls’ innocence and hope slowly deteriorate inside our soft bodies while we occupy our short time on Earth with vapid entertainment, aggression and judgment, and the pursuit of accumulating “stuff.” We swallow the fear we feel down deep inside with the help of a pill or bottle.

Some people are not so easily distracted. It has always taken me enormous effort to avoid thinking about the Great Unknowingness. I tried Christianity and chaos. I constantly sought diversions and substances to avoid the questions that I had always feared the most, the questions that left me in a quiet desperation that could never be buried or drowned.

More recently I tried to focus on life’s small milestones and achievements. I began writing as a less direct way to figure out what is going on, and it has brought me purpose and peace, but how easily the fragile veil of happiness is torn.

My dog died last November. His name was Roscoe, and he was my best friend. We had grown up a lot together. We watched each other go through growing pains as we both tried to learn how to behave like adults. Roscoe tolerated my loser boyfriends as they came and went. I endured his chewing stage and his great escapes from the yard. Finally, I met my Prince Charming, and we left the United States. After we got settled, Roscoe took a very brave flight to live with us in Panama.

Moving to a foreign country with no family or friends was very hard for me. Roscoe was the only part of my old life that I was able to take with me. I don’t have any children, so he became my son. Roscoe was my shadow every waking moment and my guardian during every hour I dreamed. I came when he called. I cooked for him. I doted on him day and night. He grew older and grayer, sweeter and wiser. I honestly liked Old Rossy better than the young one.

Then came the time that I knew he would die, and I hoped for it as much as dreaded it. We were both having a difficult time dealing with his failing body. He was suffering with a diseased heart and arthritis. He knew what was coming, and he’d look at me as if asking if he was dying correctly. Of course, he was doing a noble job.

Before Halloween, the Hubs and I had to go to Nicaragua for a week. Roscoe protested by lying across my closet floor so that it was almost impossible for me to pack my suitcase, but I had to be tough because whenever I got upset it always made it worse for him.

I knew he was afraid he was going to die while I was gone. He told me in very clear, sad-doggie-eye language that he couldn’t hold on much longer, but I said, “Just stay here till I get back,” and like a good dog, he did.

The night we returned home, Roscoe looked great. I thought the break from me helped him. We had a great night together with his two little brother dogs, Le-Le and Teri. I was relieved. Everything was going to be okay.

Roscoe and Christa Wojo's dogs.

…with his brothers, Teri (the spotted mutt) and Le-Le (the Rottie) during Christmas time.

The next day Roscoe wouldn’t eat. I was concerned, but thought it would pass until that night he laid his head in my hand. I knew this meant something because Roscoe was not a cuddly dog. For some reason he wanted to be held, and I cradled his head so long my arm went numb. We were watching a movie, Pacific Rim, which it seemed so stupid and absurd because I knew my doggie was slipping away. What are we doing watching a movie? We’re dying. We’re all dying.

When we woke up the following morning, Ros was in an unnatural position on the floor. His tongue hung out, and his eyes were wide and unseeing. I came to his side and straightened out his body. His consciousness returned for a moment, and he and I were able to look at each other one last time, but within the hour I felt the last trembling of his heart, and he was gone.

(Time to get the tissues! I knew I wouldn’t get through this without crying).

DSC02509

Roscoe–always a deep thinker.

I had no idea how bad the grief would be. He was a dog, right? This was nature. And he had the best golden years any animal could have. He went from a tiny apartment in Florida to spending the last half of his life in the wild mountains of Chiriquí. Lucky dog! Now it was his time to go, and it couldn’t have gone any better as far as dying goes. He waited till we got home from our trip. He passed peacefully in my arms. We were so fortunate to be with him when he took his last breath.

These thoughts should’ve consoled me, but they didn’t. I was a mess and cried erratically for months. I thought I would just need some time to adjust, but I haven’t really. I wasn’t sure how to live without my companion, and his death reopened the sucking black void of the Great Unknowingness. I couldn’t figure out why we humans evolved to love so much that we are crippled when someone we love dies. It’s mentally and physically debilitating. It’s miserable for your clan and every creature around you. It makes you weak and vulnerable. How did that improve our ancestors’ chances of survival?

Loss is like a morbid disease.

Although I never felt it so keenly before, this anguish was not surprising to me. Since I was a girl, I’ve cried myself to sleep at night knowing one day my parents would be dead. I’ve spent my entire life with this fear of loss and thought maybe there was something wrong with me. Later, I found out that this condition is often referred to as existential depression, and though I’m not an unhappy person by any means, there is an undercurrent of anguish that never leaves me.

Nothing has brought me relief so far. From experimenting with psychedelics and drinking myself into a stupor to huffing through kundalini kriyas and training my brain with binaural beats—no matter what I do, nothing truly and permanently exterminates that nagging black thought that fingers my mind.

Why are we here?

Where do we go?

What does it all mean?

At least with this manner of thinking there are questions to ask. This assumes there is a reason for us being here, that we do go somewhere after our bodies rot, and that our lives do mean something. One simply must endure the mystery, but then there’s the more terrifying possibility to contemplate. What if we just die and that’s it? There is no why, where, or what. What if we are as important to the Universe as a flea’s fart is to us?

What if it all means nothing?

Everything we see and feel is a perception or illusion and is limited by what our human body can sense. What we see is not the truth of existence. And I want to know The Truth. The only problem is billions of people have died without ever knowing the truth, and my greatest fear is that I will suffer the same fate.

I do have an inner soul; some might say it’s my higher self. I try to summon her as much as I can with yoga and meditation. When she shows up, she speaks to me as if I’m a simpering toddler. With endless patience she tells me, and I’m quoting her on this, that she “knows everything” and it “will all be revealed” and “it’s all good.”

This placates me for a few hours if I’m in a receptive mood, but my anal, logical brain can’t accept the mystery and wants a concrete explanation for everything. Anal, logical brain knows there is reason and symmetry in nature, and it won’t let me sleep until we make sense of it all, damn it.

In another dark corner of gray matter shivers my ever-terrified subconscious, which clutches to attachments and goes into fits if ever anything threatens to change.

We fight all the time, and it’s exhausting.

The good news is that I’m not afraid of my death. I’ve been unconscious a number of times for varied reasons, and I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t remember a thing. Of course this notion when dwelled on too long will make one volunteer for a lobotomy. Not feeling a thing. Not remembering a thing.

Black,

silent

vacuum.

Ah, the meaning of life. Enough to drive any reasonable person batshit crazy. This is really the point of My Sweet Delirium. We can’t figure it all out, but we can have fun trying.

At least The Universe was kind enough to provide a suitable environment for the evolution of puppies and the advent of wine. These kindnesses do allow me to keep the faith. . . a little.

Miss you, Roscoe. . .

Christa Wojo's dog

RIP 11/4/2013

Do you have trouble coping with the Great Unknowingness?

How does it inform your day to day living?

Who’s helped you most with understanding the meaning of life? Death? 

Please leave your comments.

Edited by Candace Johnson at Change It Up Editing

Drunken Americans Behaving Badly in France

Hi everybody. Just to let you know, as part of my KDP Experiment I am trying one of Kindle Direct Publishing’s promotion optionsThis means my novelette, The Wrong David, is free on Amazon for the next five days!

The Wrong David by Christa Wojo cover featuring Gustav Klimt's Watersnakes.

The Wrong David

Grab your copy here.

Many of you may have already met my character, David, in the Meet My Main Character blog tour. For those of you who don’t know him, here’s a quick blurb:

David is a disillusioned American wine broker who meets his partner and best friend, Brian, in France’s Côte d’Azur to tour the vineyards of Provence. Brian brings his wife, Vanessa, who David has been desperately in love with for years. David has cultivated his obsession with Vanessa, using it as a distraction from his otherwise unfulfilling life.

As the threesome drink themselves through The French Riviera, David is losing his ability to hide his feelings.

I know. It’s not the best blurb. I’m still working on that. And I will let you know how this KDP promo turns out.

If any of you experienced indie authors have any tips on how to make the most of these promotions, please share.

Wish me luck!

 

Santé! (Cheers)

 

 

Meet My Main Character Blog Tour: Introducing The Wrong David

Welcome readers and writers

I was delighted yesterday when my buddy, Madhuri Blaylock, the author of The Sanctum Trilogy, tagged me in a little game called Meet My Main Character Blog Tour.

Madhuri’s passion for writing and charisma for the digital writing community are contagious, and being the new girl on Worpdpress I feel so special that I was noticed.

hello

Rules 

The taggee must write a post answering the same seven questions about their MC. Then the taggee becomes the tagger and chooses five other authors. It’s sort of like a chain letter with all the potential to become a global virus.

 

So sorry, dear characters.

We’ll be hanging out all your dirty laundry for everyone to see. You better put on your dark sunglasses and prepare to punch the paparazzi.

 

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