I should start by saying my mom is a rock star and a sales savant. She has literally gone into a retail store to purchase curtains only to leave having sold three sales ladies my book. I love her dearly and bow down to her sales savvy. It’s just that sometimes her mojo slips, and it can be pretty funny.
This was a conversation we had over the phone just after I published Shattered Angel.
Mom: “I was talking to so-and-so about your book. She hasn’t read it yet because she’s worried about the content. I wish she would though—it’s such a good book.”
Me: “I know it’s a difficult read.”
Mom: “Well, that, but also because there are so many cuss words. Every other word is F-this and F-that. She wouldn’t like it.”
Me: “Um . . . there are a total of 6 F-bombs in it.”
Mom: “No, there’s more than that.”
Me: “Only 6. I’ve counted them.”
Mom: (slight hesitation): “Really? Why did I think there were more?”
Me: “I don’t know—especially since you were a beta reader, and I know you’ve read it again since.”
Mom: “Well, if there’s only six she might be OK reading it then.”
This took place at a restaurant when I had met up with my mom and one of my aunts. My aunt had left for the bathroom, so it was just me and master sales chick.
Mom: (to the waiter as he refills our drinks) “Do you like to read?”
Waiter: (looking at her with suspicion) “Sure.”
Mom: (pointing at me) “She writes books you know.”
Waiter: (looking at me with curiosity) “Really? What kind of books?”
Mom: (said in a teasing tone) “She writes baaaddd books. Her last book is so bad.”
Me: (trying desperately not to laugh at the waiter’s confused face) “Um, mom . . .”
Mom: “Oh, no, not bad as in bad. It’s really good. It’s just about a bad guy who does really bad things to Angel.”
Me: (really laughing because now the waiter looks convinced I write BDSM erotica) “Mom, you’re not helping.”
Mom: (deer in headlights look before realization sets in) “Oh, no! Not those kind of books.”
Waiter: (now desperately trying to leave the crazy lady table) “Oh, well, good luck to you then.”
Aunt: (returning to a table of laughing women and a terrified waiter) “What? What’d I miss?”
If you want to read a really ‘bad’ book that gives you a false impression of F-bomb droppage, don’t hesitate to pick up a copy Shattered Angel and help make it a great 2nd book birthday!
|With my mamma at an author event in 2015|