Archives for September 2017
Amazon book reviews can really kick some butt for generating excitement about your latest book. But for best results, you have to make sure your readers know how to actually leave one. Check out a step-by-step guide for submitting Amazon book reviews to give books the boost they deserve.
1. Head to Amazon.com
2. Enter the title of the book in the search field.
In our example here, we picked one of the rynski book titles, namely: little book of big jerks. Hit enter or click the little magnifying glass in the yellow box to search for the title you entered.
3. Find and click the search result listing you want.
In this case, we want the first result that popped up: little book of big jerks. So we click on the title to open the book’s order page. Make sure you choose the right format and edition, as some books are available in print or Kindle, and some may have more than one edition.
6. Scroll down the page to the ‘Customer reviews’ section.
Here you’ll see a button that says “Write a Customer Review.” Click the button, and you get a page where you can leave your review.
7. Write it up.
First click on the number of stars you want to give the book, then write the text of your review in the field below that indicates: “Write your review here.” Add a headline to your review in the field below your review text that asks for your headline. Click SUBMIT.
8. You’re done!
Amazon will now process your review and, if it passes, your review will go live for the masses to see.
NOTE: If you are reviewing a book that’s listed on Amazon but you did not purchase it through your account on Amazon, you will be asked to supply a name and email address when submitting your review.
Hope this helps answer questions for those that have ’em – and thanks! to those who take the time to post a review for any of rynski’s books. Authors really appreciate reviews, so you’re doing a great thing (unless, of course, you trash the book and say the only thing it’s good for is toilet paper in the forest). That wouldn’t be very nice.
One of my bright ideas turned into one of the dumbest things I ever tried to do. The bright idea was to start my next art therapy project one morning before work. The topic was “spirit,” which I thought was innocuous enough, no?
Since Mom is cleaning out her basement and had sent me a box of greeting cards she’s saved since I was born, I thought the cards would make a fantastic collage to show the “spirit” of love, the “spirit” of family and friends, and the “spirit” of the many dearly departed whose signatures punctuated the well wishes.
Twenty minutes into the project, I was a weeping mess.
It only got worse from there.
Dang Sneaky Grief
Let’s just say the topic of “spirit” quickly turned into a study in grief. I was grieving my grandparents, great-grandparents, and people I didn’t even remember who signed some of the cards because I was sure they must be dead by now. I was grieving my dad. The departed family cat. The lost innocence of every baby that eventually grows up and becomes yet another cynical adult.
That project is currently on hold, as I still had a lineup of work assignments to complete for the week. But I did learn a valuable lesson: art is great for healing grief – just not on a workday.
Thinking back, every grief-related art project had been painful while it was in the works. Several that immediately come to mind include:
- A velvet painting of dog Sawyer chasing demons, created a year after he died
- A velvet painting of dog Dini as an angel bumblebee, created several months after she died
- A happy heaven spider created from my dad’s hip and knee replacement parts, created several months after he died
- An ugly green and black painting thing with the word “grief” created while Sawyer was dying
Aside from the painting that actually reads “grief,” the other projects weren’t created with the intention of healing grief. It just kind of worked out that way.
They were immensely painful as they were being created. But once I allowed the pain to fully and wholly flood the entire essence of my being as I was actively creating, it somehow lessened.
But Doesn’t It Hurt to Look at the Grief Art?
Once the flood of grief has saturated your soul and the tide eventually subsides, you can even bear to look at the art you’ve created during that dark moment. Heck, you can even come to enjoy it.
- Sawyer chasing demons is now the central piece in the living room, complete with its own personal light, making me happy that Sawyer found something to do in heaven
- Dini on velvet buzzes happily beneath Sawyer, as she always was the second fiddle
- Dad’s happy heavenly spider sits pertly near my nightstand, reminding me Dad’s spirit is with me from the moment I wake up to the moment I head to bed
- The ugly green and black grief painting thing? That’s in the garage somewhere. I think. It was painful to look at. Not because it brought back the memories of grieving, but just because it’s so dang ugly.
I’m sure my finished “spirit” collage will likewise find its place when complete. Its next installment will just have to wait for a day where I don’t have six assignments lined up to compete with my wailing and tears.
Stacy Blair was
groovy and keen and
the coolest kid
on the block.
If she was your friend,
your life had meaning. If not,
you may as well die.
One day she gave me
a drawing she had
I cherished the
thing, hung it on
my wall – the next day
she asked for it back.
She came to the door with
Shauna O’Conner to give
the prized drawing to
I handed it back –
straight-faced with grace – then
cried on the couch
for a week.
And that’s why I
threw a tantrum – some 40 years
later – when mom told 6-year-old
Aiden he could take what he wished
from a big box of shells Mom had
there’s a dangling
apology out there one
i would not accept from a
man at the beach after
his dog attacked
my dog and dunked him
under water the man
grabbed off his dog and then
called him two swear words, the man said
he was sorry but I merely
frowned. now the man’s
in the wind flaps
in the breeze hangs low
and unplucked like
rotten fruit – what happens
to dangling apologies? do they
finally waft down to be
the earth – or do they
continue to float and float for
all eternity – like those times
you say “I love you” and
no one answers?