The (messy) Story of Making a Self-Published Short Read… SOL Shit Outta Luck by Momma Mia Kerick

ONCE UPON A TIME…

I had some time on my hands. Every year, Mr. Mia goes on a LONG fishing trip to Chappaquiddick, an island off Martha’s Vineyard. It’s his favorite time of the year. Lots of men shuttle in and out of the house he rents, and they fish a lot at odd times of the day and night, dictated (I think) by the tides, they eat very well, and they take a few trips to Edgartown for dinners out.

 

At home, I have a different sort of vacation.

I become a literal recluse. Yes, I continue my motherly duties… but wifely duties? I put them on hold, with the exception of phone calls and text communication involving lots of “I miss you’s” and emojis.

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Where Mr. Mia eats well, my kids and I  (at home) eat badly. We order out A LOT!

fastfood

And… I write. And I write and I write, because there’s no one around to stop me.

This year on my “vacation from wifely duties” I wrote about 2/3 of a YA book that I suspect could be THE ONE. You know, the book that makes me the famous author I am in my mind, but no one on the outside realizes this. (I suspected that The Red Sheet was THE ONE. And Love Spell, and Clean, and Us Three… yet I continue to write in relative anonymity.) However, the drive is more to have my books READ by hoards of people than it is to be famous. Because when you’re famous you can never go out wearing no bra and without brushing your hair and/or teeth, as I sometimes like to do.

***NO IMAGE OF BRA-LESS MIA HERE

I will let you all know if this YA book ended up being THE ONE. Or you’ll realize it when they make a movie out of it.

SOOO…. back to SOL Shit Outta Luck. I haven’t published since last February with The Art of Hero Worship. I have written books, but they as of yet have no home. I blame this partially on my Never-Trump obsession. I couldn’t concentrate on books when I was grasping the reality that Donald Trump could actually be our president one day. But I don’t want to go off on a political tangent…. In any case, on my “vacation from wifely duties”, I did a lot of walking. And while walking, I listened to a lot of acoustic pop hits. LOVE THEM!! When I listen to music, I get inspired.

 

And I wanted to publish something. I had an urge… a drive to put something out there. And I spent six days writing, editing, rewriting… and when it was finished, came the moment of truth. What am I gonna do with this thing? (THING being my 8,500 word manuscript)

Beck and Griffin’s story is cool. That is how I think of it. In SOL you will find a lot of bad attitude, a little bit of hipster, some David Beckham-ish-ness, mixed with hurt/comfort theme, blended with some tortured hero, and rounded off with some snarky humor.

And I had a what the hell? moment. Ever have one? They can cause you to act impulsively.

marilynmonroe-209

I went on KDP- me, I guarantee I’m the most technically challenged non-nerd you have ever met. And I plugged everything in where the Kindle God asked for it, DESIGNED MY OWN FRIGGING BADASS COVER on Cover Creator, rewrote the story slightly to fit the picture I chose (LOL-but I did), and hit the button. PUBLISH.

I immediately started sweating. And I’m talking, sweating profusely. I had a HUGE OMG moment. Then I had three more. I wrote this Facebook Post and (THANK YOU, friends) got tons of support.

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Then I proceeded to re-publish SOL three more times in the next 12 hours because I found errors.

And SHIT OUTTA LUCK was born!!!!

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You are NOT shit outta luck, though. Because this guy was my mental image of Griffin, who Beck finds passed out on the crosswalk on his way home from work:

griffin

 

And Beck… well, I had one guy in mind. A younger version of Posh Spice’s husband.

david-backham

 

That is the story of SHIT OUTTA LUCK, that was originally pegged to be named NOT-BLUE EYES but Cover Creator had no picture options I could make work, but, whatever.

If you are still with me here, head off to Amazon.com. pick up SOL Shit Outta Luck and meet the men behind this madness, Beck and Griffin.

 

❤ Momma Mia

 

 

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