The dreaded BLURB

So, yeah, the title says it all.  Authors who write fantastic books shiver with fear at the mention of this foul five-letter word.

Why?  Because so much rides on it.  The story may be the best thing since whipped cream, but if the blurb sucks, well…

And of course, it doesn’t help when asking someone about your blurb and the spellchecker keeps changing it to bulb.

Me_ Hey, can you check out my bulb_ (1)

So, if autocorrect can’t get it right, how can we?

I’ve been studying them.  Youtube videos, downloads, ebooks, you name it.  Then I read other blurbs and a lightbulb went off.

Each week I read a book for a review. Some blurbs had me biting at the bit to read them. Why?

Because the MC’s wrote the blurb, not the narrator.  I want emotion.  When the MC tells you about the book, it’s personal.  I don’t like to read 1st person POV, well, very few but in a blurb, it is fantastic. (Sue Seabury is excellent at 1st POV, read her Shear Luck and you’ll see why.)

I’m tweaking my blurb for a new release.  What do you think?  Yes, there is a long version and a short.  I also cut this one up depending on who I’m targeting and try to use each section/voice in different ways. It does need another pass for smoothness, and I’m not sure I like the ‘filly to sugar line’, it sounds too young for a robust cowboy. But, each voice comes through.  Will it work?  I don’t know, but it’s better than saying this is a story about…

 

 

A Native American Woman’s journey as she discovers the will of her ancestors with supernatural influences. A world of spirits, a growing love, and nefarious forces collide in this must-read paranormal fiction.  
Sara.  Haunted by her mother’s ghost.
RedHorse was there when the mud grabbed me and wound its way through my body. My dead mother’s voice sang in the shadows scaring me. RedHorse comforted me, and my heart shattered in my chest, pounding away at his closeness.
Hopefully, he won’t think I’m crazy and tell Grandfather that the woods scared me. I won’t have Grandfather worrying that I’m going crazy. And no, there is no such thing as ghosts. It’s only the wind, whispering over the trees.

RedHorse. Tortured by his father’s voice.
Sara tempts me and pulls me toward her like a filly to a lump of sugar. If only my father’s ghost didn’t stalk me every time Sara comes close. I have to leave, I can’t tolerate the farm anymore and the muffled voices in my head. Hopefully, I can convince Sara to leave Kansas, her grandfather, and our community. To make a life somewhere else without the ghostly spirits that yell at me. She could sell the land her grandfather leaves her and we could start anew.
If she’ll have me.
The Old One.  The Bad is coming.
And someone will have to pay the price at some point, even if it is with a life. The sacred land must be kept safe from trespassers, or we’ll take the land ourselves and more.  Some spirits are angry and argue that this was once ours and it could be again if the Spirit Key leaves, we can unlock the door to the death realm that is kept shut by each Spirit Key.

We have to stop them, but only if Sara finds her calling on her own, without interference.

Grandfather.  The Old One called me.
Took me off my Kansas horse farm and into the future. My beautiful land had been taken away, bulldozed and turned into a suburb. The land must stay in the family or our heritage will be lost and coated over with asphalt.

Only the Spirit Key can save our heritage.
Young Sara looks like the best candidate, but she’s yet to see any ghost since she was a babe and her father’s spirit cuddled her as she screamed in fright. She must embrace her Native American roots to keep the land safe from intruders and that means letting in the ghosts and with it the fears of that night so long ago. Her life is at a crossroads. She’s floundering unable to find a job or her calling. Struggling along without a purpose is the worst thing a person can do.

Death is always near.
My time wanes. The spirits need a leader, someone to help them cross-over, or they will take matters into their own hands and make war on the living so that the land will be free to hunt without human interference.
But a niggling tells me the Old One has something else in mind. Something I won’t like.
The Spirit Key needs a helper. 
Someone who respects our heritage and can speak to the dead. I pushed Sara and young RedHorse together, and the relationship could work, but the spirits don’t want him. They’ve seen his future and soon, he will step on the ledge towards death.

I made a bad choice.
 
A new world full of old spirits, love, suspense, and culture.

 

 

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