Lynn Raye Harris

Video book trailers are the hot thing now, it seems. Everyone is doing one. Some are great (no, I have no examples because I really, really pay very little attention to them) and some are downright corny (no examples because my mama said if you can’t say anything nice, etc). Apparently, according to the Wall Street Journal, it’s turning into quite the cottage industry:

Circle of Seven Productions, a Brentwood, Calif.-based production company specializing in book trailers, had more than 100 clients last year, up from about a dozen in 2005. TurnHere, a two-year-old Emeryville, Calif.-based production company, has deals with Simon & Schuster, Penguin Group, Hachette and Chronicle Books. And HarperCollins has cut out the middleman; the publisher just built a book-trailer studio in its offices and says it hopes to churn out 500 author videos this year.

The article also says that book trailers can cost a lot of money to produce. Obviously, this puts them out of reach of the average author, which is why the homemade ones crop up a lot. Nothing wrong with homemade and, again, some of them are pretty good.

But do they work?

There is scant evidence, however, that the average book trailer actually has much impact on book sales. Despite Doubleday’s recent video upload for the self-help book “We Plan, God Laughs,” by Sherre Hirsch, the book has sold only about 3,000 copies, according to Nielsen BookScan, which tracks about 70% of U.S. book sales. And even though Jami Attenberg’s trailer for her novel “The Kept Man” is reminiscent of Miranda July’s short films, only 3,000 copies of Ms. Attenberg’s recent book have sold. Most trailers cost about $2,000 to produce.

I think romance writers have embraced the idea of trailers and many work hard to make them. But what do I do when I click over to a site that has a trailer? I skip it. Unless you’re a friend, or you’ve specifically asked me to look at it, I skip. Why?

Dunno, guess I’m in a hurry. And that, to me, is the crux of the trailer issue. If you want to do a trailer, make it short, sweet, and to the point. Just my opinion, of course!

What do you think about trailers? Like them, hate them, want to do one? What are your criteria for good trailers? What makes you watch or not?

**The WSJ article is here.

**Wow, here’s a site where you can go watch book trailers! In the interest of research, I watched. Okay, there are some good ones here. Hmm…

Some women change their hair when they’re in a new mood. Me? I change my website. No, it’s not changed yet, so clicking over will produce the same pages as always. But, I can’t ever settle down with a look. (Notice my blog changes from time to time — like today.) I visit other sites and I want to change mine.

Lately, I’ve been worried about how strongly my site is geared to my romantic suspenses. I have a dual writing personality now! I need to reflect the classic romance/Harlequin Presents side of me, and so I’ve been working on something that combines the two in a plain (for now) way.

I plan to pay someone to develop a site (or sites), but I can’t do it yet. There’s the issue of name, for one thing. What name will I write under? I am very flexible about this. I am open to the idea my name may not be the best for selling books, but it’s a bridge I plan to cross when I reach it.

Bottom line for me is that this is a career and I plan to do everything necessary to succeed at it. If separate names are the ticket, I’m there. If a completely different name from my own is best, I’m there. If I need to pay a web designer, I’m there. (Hubby, if you’re reading, quick, look over there! Is that a naked woman/iPhone/new TV — or something equally interesting to you I see? Quick, better click over!)

So, what are the best writer sites for you? Is there a site you like, either for the colors or the ease of use or the graphics? If you have a website, did you pay someone? Do you plan to pay someone eventually? What do you think about homemade sites with popular site builders? Does flash bug you (it does me)? What about music (ditto)? Anything I missed? Give me your thoughts!

I’m tired of the medical profession in some respects. Going to the clinic when there’s no one else waiting to be seen, and then waiting for 45 minutes in the exam room without anyone coming to say anything — sorry, Dr. X is running behind, he’s on the 15th hole and expects to finish the course soon — is ridiculous. And we pay for this privilege.

I applaud medical people, and I thank them for taking care of us. I really do. It’s not an easy job. But why does it take so blasted long for the doctor to see you when no one else is ahead of you? When there are about 10 nurses running around and no patients — or maybe one or two in an exam room somewhere? Why can’t anyone come and tell you when to expect Dr. X? Am I wrong in thinking it’d be nice to know when to expect this vaunted and necessary person’s appearance?

And is it just me, but do you start to think because they’ve put you in an exam room and closed the door that perhaps they forgot you were there? I truly am a patient person. But 45 minutes alone in a freezing, silent room is a bit much, I think. TELL me Dr. X is busy. Tell me he’s running behind, we’re sorry, etc. I am patient and understanding. But sheesh, my time is worth something too! Thank heavens for the iPod Touch. And books.

Yeah, so that’s what I did over the weekend. How about you?

A couple of months ago, Hubby bought me something I said I didn’t need. A 32GB iPod Touch. I was happy with my Nano (the generation before this one that plays video) and really, 4GB was enough. But he insisted. He said I’d need it at the RWA National Conference this summer.

Yeah, right. He’s never been to conference. He has no idea that you’re lucky to snatch 4 hours of sleep a night, much less have time to listen to music.

But, oh my, I’ve fallen in love with this thing. I have videos on it. Music. Audiobooks. I can email. Watch You Tube. I can rent movies from iTunes to watch while traveling. Am I sorry I have this toy? No.

The other day, I had a doctor’s appt. And they stuck me in the room to wait for the 30 minutes it takes the doctor to arrive. I read a book for a while. And then I watched videos. Awe-SOME.

Yes, this baby is going to San Francisco with me. How did I ever live without it?

Any toys you can’t do without? Electronic gadgets that enhance your writing or make it easier for you to be organized? Do you even have an iPod? I can remember when I scoffed and didn’t want the Nano. WHAT was I thinking? If you do have an iPod, do you have your content organized? I admit to being too lazy to make playlists….

I love Home & Garden Television. I enjoy watching people try to figure out which house to buy on House Hunters. And International House Hunters, especially when they’re in Europe, is a lot of fun too. I like Designing to Sell, love Candace Olsen’s Divine Design, and enjoy Get It Sold and Buy Me. And the outdoor stuff is cool too, especially Landscaper’s Challenge and Ground Breakers.

So I was totally, completely unprepared for what happened the other night. Hubby’s flipping channels as I’m working on my laptop on the couch. He comes across something called Mobile Home Disaster — on Country Music Television, not HGTV.

I thought it was a joke at first. But it really wasn’t — though it WAS funny.

I nearly wet myself I laughed so hard. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to laugh, but dang, these people go around and remodel trailers. Now, I’ve lived in a trailer park in my life (as a kid) so I probably shouldn’t be so uppity. But it wasn’t the remodeling that killed me. That was actually done amazingly well and the trailer was gorgeous when they were done. Couldn’t even tell it was a trailer on the inside.

No, what made me giggle myself senseless was the family. The man actually kept a knife, salt shaker, and shot glass in a bathroom drawer. When the host asked what the slice marks on the countertop were, the woman explained that her fiance cut his limes there. For his tequila shooters. In the JOHN. Am I the only one who finds that hysterical?

Hubby’s talking about putting a cutting board in our bathroom now. I’m pretty sure he’s joking…

Have you seen this show? Or seen a show equally as hilarious to you? Because I was so amused I’m going to DVR this baby now. Who knows what other gems I may learn (besides taking my alcoholic libations in the bathroom)…

Hubby went fishing this weekend, so I decided to write a query letter to an agent who takes e-queries. I spent hours composing the perfect letter. I read it so many times I could recite it. I looked at every nuance, every word, searching for perfection. I revised it a few times. I opened with why I was querying said agent, launched into my book, and closed with awards, requests, etc.

Finally, when I was completely and totally convinced I’d written the most wonderful, most fabulous, most amazing query in the history of querying, I hit the send button. And then I was so happy I reread my letter a couple more times, imagining what the agent would think when she received it. How could she not like it? I hit all the right notes, read her guidelines carefully, and tailored my letter specifically. Yay me!

Natually, I went to bed happy and proud that I’d sent out my first agent query. This morning, still awash in happiness, I decided to reread my letter again.

And there it was — a typo. A dropped ‘r’ within the first two lines. A ‘you’ that should have been a ‘your’. And I felt like Charles I of England — for want of a nail the shoe was lost, for want of a shoe the horse was lost, for want of a horse the crown was lost, etc. ARGH!!!

Oh yes, I am an idiot. In spite of my diligence, careful composure, and obsessive proof-reading, I have managed to commit the cardinal sin of sending a letter to an agent in which she will think I am careless and inattentive to detail. After about an hour of grumbling, I decided to get over it. What am I going to do? Send her another query in which I explain I had a minor typo so I’m resending? Send a brief note telling her I know I have a typo and I’m sorry?

No, none of the above. I’m going to wait, cringing with embarrassment each time I open my email, and see what happens. If she rejects me, I’ll get over it. If she requests more in spite of the glitch, I’ll happily comply. The bottom line is, stuff happens. It’s embarrassing because it’s so stupid. It could have been avoided if I’d begged a friend to read the letter for me. But I didn’t because the book pitch portion has been vetted and I was satisfied with it. I was merely composing a letter around the pitch, right?

DUH. I do believe my stylist bleached my brain on Thursday when he did my highlights.

Do you have any embarrassing tales from the submission files? Any glitches that worked out anyway? Do share! Join me in my hall of shame.