As Tiny TOE Press works hard to put together Heart of Scorpio, our summer release written by a young Colombian writer (Joseph Avski) and translated by an ex-Marine (Mark David McGraw), we’re also gearing up for another promo day on Amazon with our previously released titles.
Some stats for May’s 2-day promo:
3,332 downloaded copies of Miss Gone-overseas
2,922 downloaded copies of The Mosquito Song
3,534 downloaded copies of Austin Nights
We are happy with these numbers. Reviews on Amazon and Goodreads have already started to pour in, most positive with lots of flattering things to say. Thank you if you took the time to write one of these:
5-stars
Japanese interest (Miss Gone-overseas, Amazon review)
This short novel was a wonderful diary like compilation of the times of a Japanese sex slave during World War II. Without the need for graphic writing, the story conveyed a haunting loneliness during a challenging time regardless of whose side you are on.5-stars
I want more! (The Mosquito Song, Amazon review)
A unique take on vampires, with an engaging protagonist, and an intriguing plot that made me want to read more. I hope there will be more tales.4-stars
This is Good (Austin Nights, Amazon review)
This book is good. It edges on great. The prose is tight and engaging. You get drawn into the lives of this innocent couple in the midst of a tidal change in their lives. Having lived in Austin for 16 years, I can say that their description and experiences are authentic. The people they meet, the places they go, the feelings they get from the growing metropolis is one that you only get by living it. In the end, you are left with this profound feeling of adoration for them and can easily see why Michael so loves Bridget.The way the story is told, by jumping scenes through time and space works great. It was unnerving at first but then you understand, this is how we hold our memories, they are jumbled up and never recalled chronologically. It also pulls all of Michael’s existence to the point in time from when this is being told. You are taken to the precipice of what you feel will be a great life for this couple. This shows brilliance on the part of the author. Well done, sir.
That said, I hesitate in giving this a five, because the work does have some faults. I found myself skipping chapters and storylines because they were uninteresting. All scenes set outside of Austin and outside the road to Austin were not needed and simply break up the flow (but perhaps this is a piece of brilliance that flew over my head, it’s hard to tell with good art). The seemingly random musings on existence and the universe were not fully fleshed out and wholly unnecessary. Also I couldn’t get over the authors use of the term “cancer stick.” It was annoying the first time and downright ludicrous the 15th time. Just call it a cigarette
This month’s promo is scheduled for June 20th and 21th. During this time you will be able to download a free Kindle copy of any Tiny TOE Press title for reading on any ereader or computer.
And now for a little prose coming straight from the bottom of a glass of iced coffee.
I am not a philosopher.
I don’t have anything profound to say.
I am only a person living life. That’s it.
I’m at my best when I’m aware of what I am: a person.
When all my actions and words remain within the bounds of being a person.
Once I try to become a philosopher, or become anything else, I trip I stumble I fall.
There is a scar on my right knee from when I was a boy, probably around 3 or 4.
My father took me out for a bike ride.
He owned an Italian road bike, very thin wheels, many gears.
It was red. The seat was high, much taller than the top of my head at the time.
My father took me out for a bike ride around the neighborhood.
We lived in Briar Grove Park in Houston Texas, in a single-family home, one story.
We had a dog, Dino.
So my father took me out on his bike.
Since I couldn’t ride without training wheels, he balanced me on his top tube.
I was small enough to fit in between his legs on his upstroke.
I held on to the middle of the handlebars as he peddled and steered the ship straight.
Probably my hand started turning the handlebars toward the curb.
My father probably tried his best to keep me balanced and avoid eating pavement.
But the front tire smacked the curb, twisted out of control.
I remember seeing the curb and seeing the tire wobbling.
Together we fell.
My father tried to protect me from the pavement but there was a lot going on.
My right knee got scuffed up.
I probably cried.
My father probably cursed.
We got back on the bike and rode home, where he dabbed my cut with alcohol.
The alcohol stung. I remember its sting.
There is a scar on my right knee, ~28 years later.
And next to the scar there is a nub of bone, probably a chipped piece of patella.
When I get nervous and I’m sitting down, I play with this tiny nub.
It can be moved around and lifted up.
It probably looks a lot different than I imagine it.
