wine

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. 

The Wrong David will be free tomorrow.

The Wrong David by Christa Wojo

It’s David’s birthday. Get your free copy of his story this weekend!

It’s hard to believe The Wrong David was published a year ago. I have very nostalgic feelings for this novela because it was the first thing I’ve ever published. I miss these characters and wonder if I should revisit them for a full-length novel. Maybe you can read the story and tell me.

The great reviews I’ve received for The Wrong David have motivated me to keep writing, and in honor of this humble occasion I’m giving The Wrong David 1st Anniversary Kindle edition for free over the weekend.

The story…

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 for his best friend’s wife.

Read more about The Wrong David and my self-publication experience.

Meet my character, David.

Add The Wrong David to your wishlist, bookmarks, or download for FREE beginning Friday morning.

Let me know if you need a reminder! I can tweet, email, or Facebook ya!

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.

#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

The Wrong David #Free on #Kindle: Last Chance to Spend the Day in France

The Wrong David by Christa Wojo free on Amazon Kindle

Spend your Sunday on a hot Marseille beach. Click photo to download.

 

Spend your Sunday morning or afternoon in Marseille with a bottle of wine. David finally gets Vanessa, his best friend’s wife, alone in a hotel room. Will they behave like honorable adults?

My first published novelette, The Wrong David is in the Top 10 Bestsellers in the Free Kindle Store for Literary Short Stories and Literary Romance. It also just received a 5 star review!

Today’s your last chance to get it for free.

 

 Meet My Main Character

The Story Behind the Story

 

 

 

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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The Wrong David: My KDP Experiment

The Wrong David by Christa Wojo

The Wrong David, my first published work!

 

It’s official. I am a published author now, albeit self-published, but published nonetheless. I promise to decide on a pen name one day. For now, I’m still Wojo.

Get a copy now! 

ABOUT THE WRONG DAVID

The Wrong David is the story of David, who has never really felt at home in the world. He’s awkward and cynical, and stumbles through life medicating himself with alcohol and cigarettes.

His only friend is his oldest buddy from high school, Brian, who is handsome, out-going, and loved by all. Brian has always taken David under his wing and appointed David as CFO of his wine company.

They meet up in Marseilles to tour vineyards and source new wines. There, David indulges in his most powerful vice of all, Brian’s wife, Vanessa.

Vanessa is a goddess in David’s eyes. She is the only thing that makes him want to be part of the world, but he has never shared his secret with anyone.

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

 

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY

I wrote this story three or four years ago. The Hubs was out of town and I was getting my Eurochannel fix when this unbelievably romantic French video came on and sparked the whole story.

I opened a bottle of Cabernet and wrote through the small hours of the morning.

Since that night, poor David has been buried in my computer files. A few months ago, I decided it was time to introduce him to the world. I sent the story to my editor and then to Kindle Singles.

My pride winced when I never heard back from Kindle Singles. I didn’t know if I should wait for a rejection email, or if they were too busy to even send one. Come to find out, getting into Kindle Singles is kind of a big deal. At the time, I was also switching all of my devices and computers from Windows to Mac OS X, so my ego likes to think maybe the email was lost in the shuffle and Kindle Singles didn’t even receive it.

My back-up plan was to use The Wrong David as a test book. I have been working on a series called The Sculptor of New Hope that I plan to publish within the next few years, and I wanted to check out this self-publish biz for real. I was told many horror stories about self publishing, so I wanted to experience the whole process. I’m the type of girl who learns by doing. The Wrong David has become my Amazon Kindle guinea pig.

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