How do you get visible to the reading public? Beats the hell out of me, but if you have money there is someone out there who can show you how to do it. I have spent thousands of dollars in advertising to get my fourteen books be seen and I am lucky if I sold fifty books. I put that flower picture that is part of my garden on this page because It has no trouble getting people to comment on it. Do you have to be controversial to be seen in the book community? Join all the book websites and forums? Maybe.

I joined Goodreads and had a book reviewed and received four out of five stars, but no physical movements of my books.I advertise in Facebook and have my website, understanding-online .com, but it cannot be seen on google. I follow the rules of using keywords, but cannot seem to find the catch. I put three books in a book show in Canada and the publisher wants me to do a book signing in Toronto. Only problem is money 💰,bring sixty books with you and find a hotel room and fly out here in September. Let’s see: air flight six hundred dollars, hotel, one hundred dollars, books I need to bring, nine hundred dollars, book show is twenty-nine hundred dollars, renta car etc. And the cost keep piling up. Guess 😮, no book signing for me who is on a retirement pension.

I am not complaining; these are plain facts, to be visible you must have money. Love of writing is not enough, you must have dollars. Self publishing companies are great for publishing, but do nothing to help you sell. You spend a thousand dollars to get printable and it ends there unless you have dollars. They get you to buy books at one hundred books at a time and yes, do you have the bucks? You have fifteen hundred bucks to purchase and promote your books? My publisher will help me push my book for five thousand dollars. Get the picture?

This is truism of being a writer. Smart writers have found out how to crack the invisible wall of getting known. One, you need to be good at writing, you must find a publisher who wants to take a Chance on your personality and your ability, and of course it takes cold hard cash. What a ride writing is for me. I love to write and since I live on Someday Isle, maybe I can be seen. Pura Vida! Book store below, just push the link.

Excerpt from Short Stories by Timothy M Nugent

A visit to the beach

It is a cloudy day at County line beach. All the overnighters had bonfires and began to awaken after a night of drinking, smoking pot and love making. It is seven A.M., and I jump into the cold ocean to body surf. The water was about fifty- eight degrees and the goose bumps popped up all over my body. When the water is chili, you need to get in quickly. Otherwise, you may give up and walk away. I love the cold water. It makes your heart skip a beat or two and makes you feel alive. I played in the water for an hour and swam towards the beach. I do not know why I noticed the man, but two hundred yards from the water I see a senior man asleep in a red vintage Mercedes convertible. Bright red, circa the nineteen forties, give or take a year. It is so prestige and elegant. I decided to be nosy and walk up to highway one. I dried myself off and went to the car. I approached from the back. He had silver colored hair and was meticulously dressed. A pinstriped suit with silver stripes and black material. A beautiful suit was wrinkled like it has slept in the last couple of days. He was unshaven quietly snoring way. Suddenly he snapped upright. I accidentally stepped on an aluminum can and startled him. He turned slightly and pointed a forty-five pistol at me. “Whoa!” as I took a step back. “I did not mean to startle you.” “At my age, you must be ready” he responded. “What the hell are you doing?” “I saw you from the water, and I thought you needed some help. I thought you were ill”. “I guess my curiosity got the better of me, I’m sorry.” With that, I turned to walk away. “Wait a minute! Have you had breakfast yet?” “No I haven’t” “Hop in, I know of a nice place down the road.” After a short drive, we stopped at The Paradise Cove, an outdoor diner for breakfast. It was seventy degrees, and the clouds had disappeared. We sat and had breakfast at a table on the sand and talked for hours. The time went quickly. He talked about his family. He was ninety- two years old and was retired. His family was overly protective of him. He told me he made millions from inventing computer parts in the late fifties. He said he spoiled his wife and kids and they try to run his life.

To escape the smothering; he leaves them a note and disappears for a couple of days. The ocean curls over the sand and the sun tans my face as we listen to Beach Boy music. Not once did he tell me his name. I found that a little strange. We had talked for hours before he felt comfortable enough to tell me his name. “Friends call me Junior. My father John was a war hero. In nineteen – eighteen he stormed a bunker and knocked out a couple of machine guns. The Germans were decimating his squad. He saw a minute opening and ran up and threw a pair of hand grenades. He was a hard man to follow. They gave him the Congressional Medal of Honor. He saved hundreds of people that day. My father became a college professor of chemistry and an inventor. He is why I am such a driven young man. He expected a lot from me”. “Was he proud of you?” I said. “Yes, he was the kindest man I ever met.” “He is gone now. Lived to be eighty-four years old. I miss him dearly”. We left the restaurant, and he drove me to my car. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to visit again. He pulled a U-turn and went towards Malibu. His silver hair is glistening in the morning sun. I looked at my car. A red Oldsmobile convertible with white interior, a nineteen sixty-three, Dynamic eighty- eight. My parents let me drive the car on occasion. It will be the last time I drive “my car.” I will be heading to military service. I lost my school deferment. It is the Vietnam war and if you did not have a disability you were leading to war. I was sixty- nine in the draft and came from a middle-class family, so I was doomed. I was lucky. I scored high on my Air Force test. I was accepted, two weeks later I was off to Lackland Air Force Base. I would not make it through basic training. I was standing next to a fellow recruit, and he accidentally discharged his M sixteen on the firing line. He ruptured my ear drum, and there was blood all over the place. I would get a disability discharge. I lose the hearing in my right ear. No Vietnam for me. I was happy. I did not believe in the war and was glad to be home. Three months had passed since I last saw Junior. I get a phone call on Saturday night. “Bill, what are you doing tomorrow?” “No plans Junior, what’s up?” “Can you meet me at Paradise Cove” “Sure, what time.” He asked me to meet him at eight A.M. I hang up the phone, and my Dad asked me who that was. I told him it was a friend of mine who told me to meet him in Malibu for breakfast.

Author: tmnugent

Poet Author. Living in Costa rica Pura Vida. Love to travel, play with my dogs and write poetry. My girlfriend and I enjoy life and could't be happier living here

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