I Took a Look at My Blurbs

Two of my books are full-length novels, and I've determined that I shortchanged their blurbs. Learning to write blurbs that don't exceed fifty words is good practice and I don't regret learning how to do it. Some promo sites require it. But I may have fallen too in love with my short blurbs, and used them for every one of my books.

But unlike a novella, there's plenty to say about a novel without giving away the entire plot. The general rule of thumb is, a blurb's sweet spot is between 150 and 200 words. There is no way I can do that for my novellas; there just isn't. I could probably tinker with them, but elongate them? Why even publish the book then? The whole story would be told in the blurb. 

Since The Apple is currently on a free book giveaway, I can't update its blurb. Not that it matters right now anyway; no one is even able to find it. But I repurposed its blurb, which I'll insert tomorrow. First I needed to reacquaint myself with the story. I couldn't remember the timeline and I assumed most of the action took place on one night. Good thing I checked.

My new blurb:

The Bonnay family is gathering for their parents’ fortieth anniversary, but all is not balloons and streamers. Aubrey’s dad has gotten himself arrested – again, her rich brother’s wife is acting cold and standoffish, and no one knows if little sister Cassandra can pull her hand out of her latest victim’s pocket long enough to show up.

The night was supposed to be perfect. Aubrey’s long-time boyfriend has something “very important” to talk to her about, just when she’d given up hope that he’d ever pop the question. She’s touched that he’d chosen her parents’ anniversary for the big ask; not that Mister and Mrs. Bonnay’s union is anything to emulate.

Through all the family turmoil, the party goes as well as expected. Dad gets bailed out and returns home as jovial if he’d just strolled to the mailbox. Everyone loves good old Jerry, until someone doesn’t. The police arrest Aubrey’s mother for murdering him, a preposterous proposition, and it’s left to Aubrey to convince the cops of her mother’s innocence, all the while disguising her own life of crime.

Aubrey doesn’t know who killed Dad – the list of suspects is a mile long, including her own family. But she’ll take any step, including the most drastic one, to protect her mother.

I don't know how many words that is, but I'm pretty sure I've gone over the established limit. So be it. I'm satisfied with it. It's far better than this:

Aubrey is not a criminal like her dad; not exactly. At least her acts didn’t get her killed. His did. But now Aubrey’s mom has been wrongly arrested for his death and Aubrey has to find a way to clear her without exposing her own bad deeds. Unfortunately, family secrets get in the way.

Once in a Blue Moon's blurb has also been reworked. It went from this:

Grandma’s basement is surely haunted. What else would explain how Jemma has suddenly assumed Grandma’s identity and teleported back to the nineteen forties, with big band music blaring out of juke boxes and young men shipping off to war.

Just when she’s resigned to accept her new identity—seamed stockings, Chesterfield cigarettes, and a ragged existence; just when secrets begin to unravel, Jemma is transported again, this time to the sixties and the sad, broken life of a woman named Beth. Mom.

Once In A Blue Moon is the story of three women: Jemma, Maggie, and Beth, and how one night of aching loneliness changed their futures forever.

To this:

Jemma’s grandmother has died and it’s up to Jemma to travel back to the farmhouse to sort her belongings. The one person who should be there, Jemma’s mother, doesn’t even seem to care. Mom has always been that way; distant, detached. Mom hadn’t seen Grandma in years.

Jemma sets upon the task of packing up Grandma’s memorabilia, and curious, she places an old record on the boxy stereo in the basement. That’s the moment when Jemma is no longer Jemma. She’s a young woman surviving in the midst of World War II, with a no-good husband and a lonely country existence.

Just when the woman who’s now called Maggie finally fights her way out of the tangles, a different woman steps into the picture. Her name is Beth, a child of the seventies, harboring a suspicion that batters every step of her life, and bars her from trusting anyone.

Whatever magic caused Jemma to assume these new identities, she’s about to learn some truths about love and lies.

It most likely won't matter, but I still feel productive.

It's the little things, after all.