tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-129985442010-01-04T10:20:26.691-08:00Bill Branley's memoir blog, essays about my high and low moments since I was old enough to remember them. <p>This blog was the home of <b>Peggy Finds A Friend</b>, which is now <b><em>Sea Changes</em></b>, available from <a href="http://www.onesockpress.com">One Sock Press</a>.</p>islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-52938962136146802972009-03-07T11:11:00.000-08:002009-03-07T11:56:00.489-08:00

I guess I didn't do a very good job of sticking to my memoir action plan, which was to write an essay about something interesting in each year of my life. I worked backward from 2008 and got stuck on 2005, when my mother died and Hurricane Katrina wiped out my home town of New Orleans. Those two events happened within a few days of each other, in fact my mother's funeral was originally

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-28040605724295796332008-07-09T20:42:00.000-07:002008-07-09T20:55:11.033-07:00

Note: This is the last of a three part series describing my adventures in the publishing industry. Here are links to the first two parts:2006 - My Great Publishing Adventure - Part 1 of 32006 - My Great Publishing Adventure - Part 2 of 3Part 3:So I got my book printed. Now what? Now comes the part you can't control, which includes getting reviewers to review your book, getting bookstores to

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-50831225383853808132008-07-06T07:32:00.000-07:002008-07-06T07:47:58.054-07:00

Who did the editing and design of my book? In the next few sections I will describe the steps I followed to get from a first draft manuscript to a set of electronic files that my offset printer would accept. Please read Part 1 for a description of how I got to this point in my publishing saga. - Editing. Here's Rule #2 -- Don't Edit Your Own Book. Of course, you will do some initial editing,

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-66516107391241789442008-07-05T06:40:00.000-07:002008-07-05T07:26:55.149-07:00

Let's get right down to the cold hard truth about book publishing: someone has to buy the books. I know. It seems awfully small-minded of those publishers to be concerned with actual sales when it comes to your book, your creation, the product of your genius and your countless hours of effort. Now, suppose you create a niche literary masterpiece that is highly prized by, say, seventy-three

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-22774029015342180462008-06-08T10:02:00.000-07:002008-06-08T15:39:33.950-07:00

In May of 2007, approximately a year and a few weeks ago, I stopped going to Mass at our local Catholic church. Although I had attended Mass all my life, on that particular day, my last day at Mass, I sat in my usual pew at church and said to myself, "This can't be right." I have not been back to that church or any other church since then.I was what some call a "cradle Catholic." That is, I

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-50692443129815727312008-05-24T09:14:00.000-07:002008-05-24T19:10:27.966-07:00

It is fitting, I think, to begin a memoir with an event that represents a major change of direction in one's life. For me, it came this year when I interviewed for a job at Amazon.com and did not get it. I am pretty sure it was only the second time in my life I interviewed for a position that I didn't get. The first time was when I was a lieutenant in the Army and was interviewed by a

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-26008695806167340012008-05-18T20:08:00.000-07:002008-07-09T20:51:51.849-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about what to do with this blog. It was originally a place where I serialized a couple of fiction pieces. That was fun, but after a while I was ready to move on, to "re-purpose" this space, as they say in modern lingo. This change of heart about serializing stories could be related to Stephen King's advice to "write the first draft in private" (see his memoir, On

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-69457982650769196882008-04-26T20:25:00.000-07:002008-04-26T20:42:35.593-07:00

Hi Folks,I am getting ready to resurrect this blog. It won't be a fiction blog, at least not long serialized pieces like there were in the past, but it may contain occasional short fiction or poetry. Rather, I am hoping to use this forum to explain what I learned about writing and publishing over the last few years while I took the plunge and quit my day job to become a world famous author and

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-31149985292597727872007-08-08T18:26:00.000-07:002007-08-08T18:28:50.146-07:00

Dear Readers,My track record for posting to this blog is horrible. I am busy working on the sequel to Sea Changes, plus a Young Adult story, and playing lots of jazz piano, and doing things with my family, but I can't seem to find any time for posting episodes of anything to this blog. Oh, and having a day job doesn't help. Thanks for reading, and thanks for stopping by to see what's happening

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-69223550060618338862007-06-19T21:40:00.000-07:002007-06-19T21:41:25.373-07:00

When they reached the big fish stall at the end of the market, a crowd had gathered to watch the fish sellers throw fish to the wrappers. Walter raised his video camera to eye level, ready to shoot.A large man with a bushy mustache held up a long silver-colored fish. "Somebody has to buy this fish so's I can toss it," he bellowed.Myra tugged on her father's sleeve. "Buy a fish, Daddy.""We

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-50234187067583019162007-06-17T19:50:00.000-07:002007-06-17T19:52:15.408-07:00

Myra Finch was impressed by the banjo player in Pike Place Market. His long gray beard shook as he strummed hard on the strings. The instrument was worn, like his body.She had never heard a real banjo. It made a funny twang that was nothing like a guitar, and when he played fast, his fingers were such a blur she couldn't see them, and the notes sounded like rain falling in a tin can.Myra

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-41673772250815363012007-06-01T21:51:00.000-07:002007-06-01T22:00:03.305-07:00

Sea Changes has earned an Honorable Mention in the ForeWord Magazine 2006 Book of the Year Awards. Visit One Sock Press for more information, and take advantage of the publisher's special discount in honor of this recognition.As many of you know, the story of Sea Changes began right here on this blog two years ago: May 18, 2005, to be exact. That was when I began Peggy Finds A Friend. Little

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-56685350182184957042007-06-01T06:02:00.000-07:002007-06-01T06:28:16.745-07:00

Dear Readers,I have decided to put this story aside for a while. It has developed in a way that I did not intend, and so, rather than fight it, I'm going to take a break from the tale and return to it later.I will speak now from a writing point of view, since what I have to say is mainly of interest to writers of fiction. It has been two years since I began writing serialized fiction on this

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-10160253078882487462007-05-15T06:21:00.000-07:002007-05-17T06:33:07.828-07:00

December in Washington. Doris Austin stood in the cold night air with some of the staff, waiting for FLOTUS to light the national Christmas tree. FLOTUS was the acronym for First Lady of the United States; its companion acronym was POTUS, President of the United States. Many staffers simply used FLOTUS and POTUS as everyday nicknames for the president and his wife. Some people shortened the

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-27866879334150004072007-05-07T06:08:00.000-07:002007-05-07T06:23:10.732-07:00

The day after Toby died, Emily placed the cat in a cardboard box and buried him in Fitch field, in a hole dug by Emily's father. They stood solemnly around the hole while Emily said goodbye to Toby. Emily's mother and gave her tissue for the tears that rolled down her cheeks. For two weeks after her cat died, Emily was in a slump. At home, she didn't even pick on her brother when he went out

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-84018725965689521522007-04-23T19:52:00.000-07:002007-04-23T20:10:24.840-07:00

Doris Austin didn't report directly to the president, her official supervisor being Cory Metcalf, the Chief of Staff. But, as they say in Washington, she had the president's ear and therefore treated the president as her boss and often got her direction from him personally. Yet Cory was powerful because he was the president's number one gatekeeper, and if she really wanted something to happen

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-14128795624287613302007-04-01T20:12:00.000-07:002007-04-01T20:28:01.627-07:00

Doris Austin went to work the same way every day. Her boss reminded her to change her routine once in a while; he wanted her to leave her house at different times, and follow different routes to work. But she didn't always listen. Instead, she was more concerned with not getting stuck in commuter traffic.On this particular day she left her house in Alexandria, Virginia, at 5:55 am, drove her

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-31803676600934849642007-03-18T13:38:00.000-07:002007-03-18T14:07:59.253-07:00

Leo Kennedy came through the front door and into the kitchen. He was not a tall man, but he was stocky and muscular."'Lo, Em," he said. "Hi, Dad. Sell any solar panels today?" said Emily."As a matter of fact, I signed two contracts," said Leo. He was proud of his new line of solar panels; 'the most cost effective on the market,' he told everyone. He often took prospective customers to a

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-2212840676167023012007-03-03T09:55:00.000-08:002007-03-03T10:01:06.039-08:00

Rory faced the room triumphantly, having finally knotted his tie. Emily thought the knot could be a little neater but didn't say anything."Are you guys going to have martinis and caviar?" she said."That's what's known as underage drinking," said Rory. Emily and Rory both had the same dark shade of brown hair tinged with red. The red had been more prominent when they were toddlers. Rory's

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-65188001238040050572007-02-24T21:42:00.000-08:002007-02-24T21:45:26.227-08:00

Emily Kennedy could see the argument coming.She lay with her long legs draped over a pile of cushions on the living room sofa. Her brother, Rory, had just walked in holding a necktie. It could only mean one thing."Going to your brainwashing session?" Emily asked, stroking the gray-and-black ears of her cat, Toby."Very funny. Someone has to undo the seventy years of havoc wreaked by liberals in

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1169578172661946272007-01-23T10:39:00.000-08:002007-01-23T10:49:32.680-08:00

Hi Folks,I am finally recovering from end-of-year craziness and lots of music playing. Actually, the music stuff hasn't let up. You can visit www.billbranley.com/jazz to find out the latest.In spite of having almost no time left in my day, I am going to start serializing another story on this site. It will be called President For A Day and has lots of politics and humor, which seem to occur

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1160485652239022652006-10-10T05:45:00.000-07:002006-10-10T06:07:32.380-07:00

(Author's Note: This is the final episode of Night Watch. After I received word that a short version of this story won an award, I realized that the blog had served its purpose. After all, I enjoy the serialized form because it helps me write a good first draft. Although this blog is now 28,000 words, it helped me write a 2000-word story, Angela, that was good enough to win the Emerging

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1159887371146740952006-10-03T07:47:00.000-07:002006-10-03T07:59:40.446-07:00

Yesterday I received a telephone call announcing that I have won the Humanities Washington Emerging Writer Award. My short story, "Angela" was selected from among 60 entries. First prize is $500, plus I will read "Angela" at the annual gala fundraiser on Oct 27. Other speakers will include Mary Guterson (author of We Are All Fine Here), Karen Fisher (author of A Sudden Country) and local writing

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1158337944672826792006-09-15T09:31:00.000-07:002006-09-15T09:41:01.896-07:00

As David walked through the door of his house, he heard conversation and the clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen. Among the voices, he picked out those of Graphite and Olivia. But he hardly had time to process this when a soft, fleshy projectile crashed into his legs. It was Tony, who announced David's arrival with a loud "Dad!" David lifted Tony from the floor with a sweeping motion

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12998544.post-1157640935475395892006-09-07T07:46:00.000-07:002006-09-07T07:55:35.523-07:00

(Author’s note: We left off, before our break for Katrina observances, on the morning after a long night of labor for Angela. Her parents, Natalie and Buddy, are at the house helping out, as is her sister, Olivia. At this point, Angela’s labor is somewhat stalled, as labors can be, and so David has decided to make a quick trip to his office, ostensibly to get his cell phone charger, but really

islanderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16436208589550460082noreply@blogger.com0