Monday, February 27, 2017


Later this week is the second anniversary of my third novel, Shattered Angel, so I’ve decided to dedicate this post to my book-baby. I hope you will all indulge me some creative liberty as I take a slightly different approach to this installment of Back Jacket Hack-Job. Instead of writing up an alternate summary for the back cover, I wanted to share with you a couple of my mom’s actual sales pitches for Shattered Angel (there’s some slight embellishment for the sake of storytelling, but they’re legit).

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

~ Carrie


Brenda St John Brown said...

Hahahaha. I can see this situation as if it's happened to me...Oh, wait. Although the conversation was with my son's head teacher playing the part of the frightened waiter while a friend tried to "sell" her on my books. Happy second pub-iversary!

Carrie Beckort said...

Haha! At least they mean well :)

Cheryl Oreglia said...

Hysterical post, I love your Mom. She's definitely your greatest fan. My Mom sends my blogs to her friends and I have no idea what these eighty year olds think of my content - I'm better off not knowing. Great post.

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