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Wednesday, 16 May 2012

I Love Being Liked On Facebook!

by 
Hillary E. Peak

How are you supposed to know you are cool if you don’t have a Facebook fan page? OK, well, you can kind of tell based on the number of people who like your page. But I have to tell you, it brings me all sort of joy to be liked by people I don’t know. For me, it means that my books are reaching people. Someone out there enjoyed what I wrote and connected with my thoughts. 


It is genuinely thrilling.

I can’t decide if it is having an impact on my sales, or if I’m liked because I’m a writer of fiction. But all the same, people I’ve never heard of, and who have never heard of me until I began writing, know that I’m alive all because of my Facebook page. 

I follow like I read—anyone who interests me, including but certainly not limited to other writers, fans and my family and friends. I post my interviews, my reviews, my tour dates, and anything else happening to the writer me on Facebook, so I know that I’m reaching all those people who enjoy my work. They know when new interviews come on, when I’m guest posting, or when I’m doing a reading at a library. 

Better than that, my fans tell their friends and I gain MORE likes. 

Now, I’m focusing on learning to be interesting on Twitter. Each author group I join has meant more followers, and I’m reaching more people all the time, such as independent authors, indie authors unite, and indie author group. 

However, I find Twitter harder than Facebook. It’s time consuming and I still haven’t figured out how to write something interesting with just 140 characters, and I’m not so sure my everyday lives up to Twitter hype!











Hillary Peak is a recovering idealist. She became a lawyer to change the world and is still somewhat shocked that it didn't occur.


Now, her goal is to retire from practicing law and write novels that people love. She is currently a practicing attorney in the District of Columbia. She lives with her family in Alexandria, VA.





The letter said he was dying., that’s all Jules Weinstein knows when she leaves her life in San Francisco and moves to New York City to be with her father. 


She goes for the remarkable opportunity to really know her father. She never dreamed he had liberated a concentration camp, dealt cards to Bugsy Siegel or saved the life of a Black Panther. 

Wings of Hope is a road trip through the memories of a man making peace with his life. Little does she know that by getting to know her father, she will find herself. 

While her father struggles with whether his life was meaningful, Jules discovers that her father’s last gift to her is the ability to reach for her dreams. Her journey teacher her that “the goodbye” is sometimes the most heartbreakingly beautiful part of life.



Purchase Link Amazon.com and Smashwords



Excerpt:

“Jules, were you trying to beat your Dad in a friendly game of poker?” Jack teased.

“You know,” Dad looked at me, “Jack only invited me to his poker game once. He never let me come again.” He was grinning slyly.

“Right, we wanted a card shark to play with. You know,” he turned to me again, “your Dad took home two grand the one night we let him play with us?”

“Told you then, it was beginners luck.”

“Hardly. Bill Patterson told me that you killed some guy in a plane over a card game.”

Dad hooted and nearly doubled over. “Did you think that was true?”

“Well, no,” Jack responded glumly, but I could tell he might have believed it.
“I do know what he’s talking about. When Jules was about four, just before her mother and I divorced, we were on a plane coming to New York. We’d flown from Lubbock to Dallas. The weather was terrible—an ice storm if I remember correctly. The plane from Dallas to New York had been boarded, but we were sitting on the tarmac. Hours went by—literally. After three or four hours, they started serving free booze, no food, just booze. The plane got blitzed. Those people were drunker than anyone I’ve ever seen, truly.

I’ll never forget; Jules was starving. My ex was begging the stewardess for some food, crackers, anything. Jules was crying and crying. Eventually, she fell asleep. Her mother and I were exhausted and angry—we were furious they won’t give us anything for our child to eat, wouldn’t let us off the plane and we felt terrible that our four year old had just cried herself to sleep hungry.

There was no end in sight, so I pulled out the deck of cards I used to entertain Jules. The ex and I started to play gin rummy. Usually, she wouldn’t play with me, but there was nothing else to do.

A guy in the row in front of us starts getting really rowdy. He was laughing, spilling alcohol everywhere. I got up; I was on the aisle. I can remember touching his shoulder, ‘Excuse me, can you keep it down, my little girl just fell asleep. ’

‘What’s your problem buddy? ’ He slurred all his words and talked at the top of his voice. He reeked of alcohol and perspiration.

‘My child is tired and hungry, she’s finally asleep. I’m asking you, keep it down so that you won’t wake her.’

‘S’not my problem. What the hell do I care if she wakes up? ’

That did it. I grabbed the guy by his necktie, shoved him up into the ceiling of the plane, knocking him out and tossed him into a seat about three rows back. My ex was so stunned, she jumped and all the cards went flying into the air, it looked like it was snowing because she had the full deck to shuffle.

But I’ll tell you, the plane was silent after that—for two hours until we took off. Also, the stewardess came and brought food for Jules. Everyone apologized in hushed tones. It was great.”


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