Authors, Kai Strand & LA Dragoni

Blurb. “Excuse you.” The word itself sounds a bit like word vomit, doesn’t it? Blurb. “Are you feeling all right? Can I get you something?” Most of the time that’s exactly how I feel about the blurbs I write. They are word vomit. At least in the beginning. Imagine you just redecorated your living room. New flooring, paint, furniture, clever accent pieces, and a kick-ass color scheme that makes people stop in their tracks. Your mother walks in. Her eyebrows arch and she does a slow spin on her sensible 1 ½ inch pump heel. “Whhhhaaaaatttt? How on earth did you pull off puce as an accent color in here? So unexpected.” You immediately dive into an explanation that includes all the detailed thought that went into the design. Including the colors that didn’t work, how you chose just the right accent pieces, and how varying the height of each puce piece was really crucial. You grin and look around the room and then realize your mother has already left for lunch. Too m...

Why is the book often better than the movie? I’m pretty sure I’ve figured this out. Well, most people have figured out why a book is better than a movie, but I’ve figured out how not to be mega disappointed in the movie. Expectation. People often walk into the movie thinking the book will magically be shown in its entirety and they’re gobsmacked when one of their favorite supporting characters is cut completely out of the story line and the subplot about the characters’ tchotchke collection obsession is dropped. “That’s a major character building element that was missing. How do people who haven’t read the book understand the intricacies of that character’s mania?”  And… “Henry Spellgood…he added so much to the story! I was so sad we didn’t see him at all.” I call these viewers “purists.” They don’t want anything to change. They don’t want to find a single element missing and they refuse to accept the time restraints the film producers and editors faced when puttin...

As a teenager in Southern California, one of my favorite summer past times was getting a tan. My friend and I would catch a ride with her sister to her sister's work early in the morning. She worked close to the beach. Then we'd hop on a bus for the rest of the trip. We'd get there so early in the morning, the fog hadn't burned off yet, but that was okay because we'd be able to pick out the ultimate spot on the still empty expanse of sand. While the seagulls cried and the waves shushed in and out, we'd get to work forming our beach beds for the day. The first bed, we scooped out a deep ditch into the sand where our bottoms would rest, building the sand we removed into a pile of high behind our heads, and a smaller swell under our knees. The second bed would be flat except for a "pillow" made from sand for when it was time to turn over and tan our backs. We slathered on tanning oil, the distinctive coconut scent lifting into the constant wind. We...