Author Press Kits are Key to Getting Media Coverage

Something many of us have perhaps not considered. I know I hadn’t! This is part of what makes the WP community great: writers helping writers.

readers+writers journal

Are You Missing an Essential Weapon in Your Book Promotion Arsenal?

How to create a press kit for self published authorsAny self published author promoting a novel, self-help or non fiction title knows that, after the work of writing, the real work comes when you’re marketing your book.  You are undoubtedly (or should be) contacting book blogs, professional reviewers, Amazon Top Reviewers and the traditional press in hopes of getting a mention or a review. Those bloggers are just as busy as you are, and if they have to hunt around for information about your book, they’re less likely to bother.

You Need to Create A Handy Press Kit That You Can Easily Send to Potential Contacts

Information about you and your book should be readily accessible so that any information a blogger, retailer, event planner or reporter needs is handy. Below are the 10 essential elements of any press kit (sometimes called media kit – they are the same…

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All This Homeless Veteran and His Dog Needed Was Human Kindness…

An absolutely beautiful story at a time when I was letting dark shadows consume me. Thank you to Kindness Blog for sharing this!

Kindness Blog

homeless man in starbucksWhile seated at a Starbucks, a homeless man came in and sat nearby.

His scent was unpleasant and people looked at him and rolled their eyes. He was simply doing what we were all doing, drinking coffee and taking advantage of free WiFi.

He brought his dog, Legacy, who was well behaved. He proceeded to tell me he walked 60 miles from Seattle to Tumwater over a few days period. He spoke highly of Legacy who, in stride, journeyed along with his master every step of the way without complaint. As soon as Legacy was told to lay down, he fell asleep.

It was sad to see people distance themselves from this homeless veteran. Kids who inquired about the dog were quickly shielded by their parents and hurried away.

This Veteran explained most people have no concept of being Christ like because they simply place Christ on the shelf as…

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Schizophrenic Listening Habits

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I’ve just gone from spinning an album called Rudiments of Mutilation by underground power violence psychonaughts Full of Hell to listening to Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A. with absolutely no segue or transition of any kind. That’s weird, right?

But, actually, having experienced this dichotomy of aural tone and theme first — before recognizing and then analyzing the apparent strangeness of the situation — I have to say, the two albums compliment and play off of one another more than you might think. Give it a try!

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

…art reflects life reflects art reflects life reflects…

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…art reflects life reflects art reflects life reflects…

Experience shows us the objects of our obsession are reflected back at us from all corners. I have been consumed with feeling tossed aside, abandoned, of being failed by those I once felt closest to. So I see that in everything.

Watching last night’s episode of Better Call Saul thematically recalled this decimating track from PRIMITIVE MAN, which itself is a reflection of the tone of that current self obsession…

“all
will fail you
your family
will fail you
give up/fuck up
all this sorrow
consumes
all I love
life’s blood
is bound
chained down
to a finer grave
lined with shame
that is all mine
may their names
rot away
and turn to dust
in hell…”

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The Work We Do or Do Not Do

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“We may know that the work we continue to put off doing will be bad. Worse, however, is the work we never do. A work that’s finished is at least finished. It may he poor, but it exists, like a miserable plant in the lone flowerpot of my neighbour who’s crippled. That plant is her happiness, and sometimes it’s even mine. What I write, bad as it is, may provide some hurt or sad soul a few moments of distraction from something worse. That’s enough for me, or it isn’t enough, but it serves some purpose, and so it is with all of life.”

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

A ridiculously short post on an infinitely prodigious topic.

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I think I may have reduced the entirety of my existential crises down to a single, yet powerful, philosophical dilemma: How to reconcile my innate nihilism with my cosmic Buddhism. Is it, indeed, possible to believe in nothing and everything?

We shall see… 🙂

(Perhaps this is a repurposing of sorts.)

Also, it turns out there is a one-man chaos punk band called Nihilist Buddha. Without having yet heard any music, I am already a die-hard fan, because that is fucking brilliant!

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

o, sweet hippie chick

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o, sweet hippie chick
at the record store
perusing bins of
used wax
with your Mason jar
sized glasses
and Joni Mitchell hair,
the scent of you
drifting delicate upon the
air conditioned breeze…

I see you with that
freshly picked
Neil Young record,
his first solo jaunt
isn’t it?
– the ’69 reissue, though-
as I can clearly see from here.

I was gonna grab that shit
damn you,
sweet hippie chick
but you got there first

you started at Z
and now
anarchy reigns
these bins.

and now Neil Young is
going home with you
to your patchouli sunrise
and with that hand-knit shawl
that is draped around
your shoulders
just so.

o sweet hippie chick
treat poor Neil well
he has been through a lot
and
he’s just not as strong
as he once was.

but then again,
none of us are.

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tripping With Dubya and Mother, Broken Bones and Metal Tones

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We once met the frontman from Bad Acid Trip, hanging out on the lawn at Ozzfest the year System of a Down headlined for their “hiatus” tour. This was not long after we had road-tripped to Dallas to see both of those bands perform along with The Mars Volta. On the way back, I was too focused on my sweet, sexy cajun chicken from Popeye’s while trying to drive, and damn near sped us into the ass-end of a stand-still line of traffic on the freeway, itself gridlocked due to an accident involving a tractor. This is one of those “near-miss” moments I’ve talked about that I sometimes think actually killed me (us), making everything that has happened since a product of run-out electrical activity in a dying central nervous system. But that is another story…

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The BAT vocalist was wearing a shirt depicting George Dubya Bush in an Islamic shemagh. Pumpkin, clearly overcome with veneration, complimented the guy on wearing a Mother Theresa shirt at a metal gig. Because, hey, they are basically the same person, right?! ;D

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Later in the day, we also met the vocalist from Dragonforce and his magnificently curly locks of mighty gloriousness. I think that may have been the last year that Ozzfest was any good, right? A few years later, after the demise of the Ozz-Man’s tour and once Mayhem had moved in to claim the throne of Shitty Mainstream American Metal Festival, I would break my ankle in the moshpit during a fucking brutal set from Slayer. Yeah, I kept moshing…like you had to ask!

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Why am I thinking about all this now, at 8:00 a.m. on a random Friday, and sharing the memory with all of you? Who the fuck knows. Have a nice day, yeh bastards! 😀

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\m/..\m/

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

LOATHE

Yes…YESSS… Let the seething, broiling hatred wash over and consume you…consume you like maggots on bath salts eating the face of all existence. #BrutalPoetry

PRIMITIVE MAN are about to embark on an epic tour of the United Kingdom and Europe with Sea Bastard and Fister that will no doubt leave the whole of the continent in crumbling, desecrated shambles. I feel like I should have hitched a ride over as some kind of doomy fanboy stowaway, all part of my clever plan to become a bitter American expatriot gypsy madman, touring the European underground in my wanderlust caravan and spreading the word that not quite all Americans are inbred narcissistic fucktard right-wing religious extremist women-haters. Just the best of us. #Sarcasm

To Bathe in Solitude

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“I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.”

– Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

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Artwork Courtesy of BAG MAN-Visuals by Ethan McCarthy (click for more)

“In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement.”

– Aldous Huxley

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“We must become so alone, so utterly alone, that we withdraw into our innermost self. It is a way of bitter suffering. But then our solitude is overcome, we are no longer alone, for we find that our innermost self is the spirit, that it is God, the indivisible. And suddenly we find ourselves in the midst of the world, yet undisturbed by its multiplicity, for our innermost soul we know ourselves to be one with all being.”

– Hermann Hesse

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“Guard well your spare moments. They are like uncut diamonds. Discard them and their value will never be known. Improve them and they will become the brightest gems in a useful life.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

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“I was a man who thrived on solitude; without it I was like another man without food or water. Each day without solitude weakened me. I took no pride in my solitude; but I was dependent on it. The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me.”

– Charles Bukowski, Factotum

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“I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

– Henry David Thoreau, Walden

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“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”

– Virginia Woolf, The Waves

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“Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.”

– Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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The Abbey in the Oakwood by Caspar David Friedrich

“I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company.”

– Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

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“I need solitude for my writing; not ‘like a hermit’ – that wouldn’t be enough – but like a dead man.”

– Franz Kafka

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