When I first started publishing my novels, I was advised by a sage web promoter to "write articles, lots of articles!" She went on to say, "Post them on your website for free, you'll be amazed at how much back traffic you'll generate."
I started to follow her advice. My first piece was requested by a writing blog. The subject: "A Writer's Life." After that, they seemed to flow out of me. I talked about my book signings (with advice on 'how to'), about our family traumas, funny slice of life stories, writing crises, writing tips, and more. Now, with over a hundred articles under my belt, I don't post them all on my website for free.
Why? Mostly, it's because they end up in the weirdest, bizarre places, and they're often mutilated by God-knows-what kind of internet robot translators!
Yesterday, I came across a google alert for my LeGarde Mystery series in this, of all places: Florida_Retirement_System. It was supposed to be a piece I wrote way back in 2005, called, "When I Grow Up." Ha. I guess they scanned it and saw the last line, which said, "I wanna be retired when I grow up."
Anyway, I cracked up when I read it. Except where they had inserted a few swear words (not copied below). I try to make all my writings wholesome, something I can show my daughters and grandkids without flinching, you know? Well, except maybe for a few tastefully steamy scenes I added to Mazurka after I realized they weren't even reading my books. LOL! Other than that, I got a chuckle out of the following excerpts. See what you think?
(original: I planned to weed every garden on the grounds. There would be no stragglers left standing when I was through!)
(original: And, best of all, I would completely scour my proofs for Upstaged, the second book in the LeGarde Mystery Series. Due “any day now,” I’d been promised that they’d arrive just in time for my carefully planned hiatus. When finished with Upstaged, I’d work on Counterpoint, the ninth book, and write until my fingers cramped or I became a mummified author, glued to the laptop with a glazed expression of delight on my ugly mug.)
(original: Julian, two and a half, is a whirling dervish who actually helps me in the gardens and keeps up a constant, delightful chatter that offers true companionship. He attacks the weeds with relish, and has begun to recognize the difference between the bean plants and the pigweed.)
(original: Both boys beg for rides on the lawn tractor, and we spend many an hour riding around the grounds, ducking beneath low hanging branches and plucking ripe gooseberries and blueberries from the bushes that we pass.)