Excerpt from EVERYTHING I KNOW

As promised, here's an excerpt from the work in progress. TOTALLY unedited, please remember and judge not.

“Mr. Conner! Mr. Connor!” squeaked a familiar voice.

Con looked away from the frozen food case – veggie sausage patties? Really? – and smiled at the sight of Dizzy Miss Lizzy running toward him, her black patent leather shoes smack, smack, smacking the wood floor of Trader Joe’s.  His instinctive pleasure drained at the sight of the square, sinewy figure following silently in Lizzy’s wake. Con’s smile straightened into a thin line, his eyes hardened.

He tried though. He didn’t want Lizzy to think for an instant that his hostile feelings extended to her. He dredged up a stiff smile and tried to infuse a little warmth into his, “Hey, Miss Lizzy.”

“Mr. Connor, we’re having ice cream.” Lizzy reached up a skinny arm – Con winced inwardly at the site of the sticker-covered cast  on the other – with every expectation of being picked up. But Con could no more have picked her up than he could have run her over with his grocery cart. He wasn’t sure he would ever pick up a child again. He went cold just remembering that contemptuous, What kind of normal grown man chooses to hang around little kids? with all that it implied.

“That’s great, Lizzy.”

“Up,” Lizzy prompted.

If Con’s smile got any tighter, he was going to pull a muscle in his neck.

Wes Callahan now reached them. He wore faded jeans, a red tee shirt, and an  expression as grim as Con’s felt.

“Myers.” His brown eyes were dark and direct.

“Callahan.” Con was equally brusque.

“Up,” Lizzy commanded.

Callahan said, “Angel, Mr. Myers has to buy his groceries.”

His little angel slipped her hand into Con’s and confided, “I’m not talking to Daddy.”

Me neither. But Con didn’t say it. Instead he got out, probably with all the warmth of a social robot, “That doesn’t solve problems.”

Lizzy was unimpressed. “Michael J. tried to feed one of Miss Pip’s goldfish to Roscoe.”

Con said weakly, “Uh…”

“Daddy! I like this flavor.” Lizzy darted away to press her face against the glass door of the case across the aisle. “Daddy, this kind.”

“I guess I’m forgiven,” Callahan observed wryly. He was looking at Con. He even smiled, sort of, as he added, “For the moment.”

Con turned, opened the frozen food case and grabbed the first thing he could reach. Anyone else he would have asked the usual things. How was Lizzy doing? How was Mr. Callahan doing? But obviously Lizzy was doing fine, and making polite conversation to her asshole of a father was beyond Con.

“Look, Myers,” Callahan began awkwardly.

Con threw a couple of packets of frozen brown rice in his cart and let the case door swing shut. He pushed his cart away, but Lizzy came darting back like a little butterfly.

“Mr. Connor, you didn’t sign my cast.”

“Angel, Mr. Con—Myers will sign your cast when he comes back to school.”

Con stopped rolling his cart and threw a disgusted look at Callahan. Wasn’t that typical of the kind of parent Callahan was? Blithely lying to his kid so he didn’t have to be bothered with the awkwardness of telling an unhappy truth.

Callahan looked red and even a little uncomfortable as he met Con’s fierce gaze.

Con said to Lizzy, “If you’re still wearing a cast the next time I see you, I’ll sign it. Okay?”

Lizzy’s rosebud mouth turned down. Her dark eyes looked mournful. “But when are you coming back to school?”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t all that easy to tell unhappy truths. “We’ll have to see how it works out,” Con hedged. He gave his cart a nudge, aware that he was trying to sidle away. There were other shoppers around them now and this was getting more awkward by the minute.

“What?” Callahan said.

Lizzy began to cry. That was mostly about her father’s harsh tone of voice rather than anything Con had said. She couldn’t know what Con was really saying.

“What are you talking about, Meyers?” Callahan demanded.

Really? In public? Right there than in the frozen food aisle? In front of Lizzy? Con gave Callahan another of those scornful looks and determinedly wheeled his cart away. Behind him he could hear Lizzy making little mooing sounds – but that was okay. That was her crying-for-attention voice. Her father was quieting her, his deep voice reassuring but refreshingly brisk. Refreshing, because Dizzy Miss Lizzy had Wes Callahan neatly twined around her littlest finger. Good. Con hoped she’d run him ragged when she hit her teens.

But no more thinking about Lizzy or her homophobic dad. No more worrying about the family dynamics of his former students. Or the fact that Michael J. had tried to poison Con’s rabbit – former rabbit -- with sushi. It wasn’t his problem anymore. It wasn’t his business.

Con wheeled his cart into the shortest line and before he knew it, he had his bag of groceries and was walking out into the warm dusk.

Cover Contest

Make that contestS because there are several possibilities here. Four covers and four potential cover commissions.

If you saw my post on cover art at Sid Love's last week, you're aware that I'm working on a couple of little things before I dive back into Boy with the Painful Tattoo. And, as I've done before, I thought it would be fun and possibly inspirational to solicit art from readers .

I'm paying $75.00 for each winning cover (not including any photos that must be purchased) and the artist of course gets a cover credit inside the book.

There's not a huge amount of time on this because...I'm not that organized and this is how it's working out.  So basically the deadline is March 17th and then that gives readers a chance to pick finalists, and then me a chance to pick the winners. Assuming there are any entrants -- and assuming I like the covers!

So here are the projects:

1 – SLAY RIDE – A hardboiled Christmas short story set in the 1940s during World War II. Based on a true and rather grim event in the western US.

2 – WHAT'S LEFT OF KISSES?** – A collection of my historical novellas. The stories will include The Dark Farewell, Snowball in Hell, Out of the Blue, Slay Ride, and maybe This Rough Magic. So that offers several possibilities for the cover (and you can learn more about each title at my website where there are excerpts, etc.)

**The title is from a quote by Bertolt Brecht: “The human race tends to remember the abuses to which it has been subjected rather than the endearments. What's left of kisses? Wounds, however, leave scars.” **

3 – A SHOT IN THE DARK: 2 Novellas – The collection contains This Rough Magic and Ill Met by Moonlight.

4 - EVERYTHING I KNOW - contemporary novella about a young teacher wrongfully fired because of the thoughtless comments of a student's father (in other words, I have no idea how to explain this story).

Those are the projects. Everyone is welcome to submit -- professional, aspiring professional, and just-enjoy-fooling-around-with-clipart.

 Here's how it's going to work (at least in theory). Create your cover in jpeg format - 500 x 750 for our purposes (thanks to Lou Harper for pointing this out!) Remember to consider how the cover will look when shrunk down to thumbnail size.

On the 17th I'm going to post each title and the submission art. The art will be posted without the name of the artist to try and keep it impersonal and focused on the work.

On the 21st I will post the finalists. Of course if there aren't a lot of entries that simplifies that! And then on the 24th, I'll pick my winners.

If you need to purchase photos, try and select from Shutterstock because I already have an account there, and that makes it simple. Please don't use photos or cover art that is not in public domain (unless it can be licensed at a reasonable cost).

I think that's it. Feel free to post questions below.

Sounding off about ACX (Is there an echo in here?)

This is not the post I planned to write today. I was going to blether on about the pleasures of writing in layers, but I'm distracted by the latest announcement from ACX/Audible/Amazon about cutting "royalties" for the audio books they sell. Basically royalties on any of my forthcoming audio works will drop a minimum of 10 - 11%. You can read the announcement here.

First of all, can we stop calling our percentage of these sales "royalties"? They are not royalties. We are financing and producing our own books and ACX/Audible/Amazon is our vendor. They are not our publisher and they are not paying advances and they are not fronting any of the costs nor supplying any support or help along the way. They are providing the sales channels for our work -- and establishing their own monopoly at the same time. So that's the first thing.

The second thing is...wow.

I do not understand why there is no viable alternative to ACX/Audible. WHY does no one come up with a viable alternative? ACX/Audible is not that far out in front. They are still vulnerable to a serious challenge. Why does no one challenge them? Audio books are a potential goldmine. This is one of the biggest publishing stories out there, an area of huge potential growth for all of us. But no. Nothing. Not a flicker on the horizon. (Okay, maybe a flicker from B&N, but now I can't even find the article, so it was probably more of a death twitch.)

You have to give Amazon credit because they have the vision and they have the drive to make these things happen -- and to make them happen easily (The Audio Creative Exchange is a BRILLIANT concept).

AND they have the rapacious greed.

ACX says: We are lowering the royalties as we continue our mission to accommodate more audiobook productions. Our royalties still remain well above those offered by traditional audiobook publishers.

I mean, you do have to at least snicker at the outright in-your-face boldness. We're doing it because we now feel comfortable that we own the lion's share of the market. That's pretty much the message there.

As for the comment about traditional audiobook publishers? Traditional audiobook publishers FRONT THE COST OF THE AUDIOBOOK. So yes, it makes sense they don't pay as high "royalties."  I mean, it's one thing to rob us at gunpoint. Do you have to giggle maniacally in our face while you're doing it?

So what does this mean? I have readers asking me if it means no more audio books.

No. It doesn't mean that. Because ACX/Audible/Amazon has calculated correctly as usual. I understand that audio is a solid secondary revenue stream for me, and I understand that 40% is better than nothing (and so far nothing is the alternative), I understand that, so far, there is no viable alternative, and I understand that the audio market will continue to grow -- and that many of my readers love and appreciate these audio books.

I get it. So yes, I will continue to produce audio books through ACX/Audible/Amazon while hoping, praying, someone comes along with a real live viable alternative.

Here's the thing I want to communicate to my fellow ACXers though, because it only just occurred to me. When I commissioned my audio books, I did not think of asking all my narrators for copies of my files. The files are uploaded directly to ACX and I am betting that the vast majority of us don't ask for copies and don't give the original files another thought. But in seven years our contract with ACX expires and we are free to take the files elsewhere. Except if we don't have the files...

Yeah.

Now in seven years who knows. Seven years is a long time. Maybe we would want new narrators? Maybe the technology will have changed so much these audio files would be useless. But not having options is never a good thing.

 
  ****


Little update: There is a petition being circulated. It's narrator-centric -- I don't think most of us would agree that the boom in the audiobook industry is solely and strictly due to narrators -- but it gives an opportunity to voice your thoughts and share with ACX/Audible how their actions are perceived by their own customers. Please sign if you can.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Coming in 2014

Wait…that’s NOW!

 

So 2014 is upon us like the wolf upon the fold, and I have been hemming and hawing about what’s coming up from yours truly. And partly that’s because I hate to commit lest I fail to deliver, and partly it’s because having the illusion of creative freedom keeps me more…creative.

 

But two projects are contracted and already have release dates. Those would be Stranger on the Shore due out from Carina Press May 5^th (yes, you can preorder, it’s already in edits) and Fair Play, the sequel to Fair Game. (I think FP is due out in November -- also through Carina Press.)

 

So really those are the only two projects absolutely set in stone. That said, there are a couple of things planned for this year that will happen -- I’m just leery about attaching dates to them.

 

The Boy with the Painful Tattoo (Book 3 in the Holmes & Moriarity series). Much anticipated, I know. I’ve got some 15 queries in my inbox at the moment. The hope (and prayer) is to have this out before the summer. It should have been out before now, but to be honest it’s a tricky place in the series -- a turning point -- and I keep mulling over it and trying to decide what I really want to do here.

 

Yes, it will be in digital, print, and audio.

 

Also pretty much for sure this year is Winter Kill (digital, print, audio). That’s the one about the FBI agent and the sheriff’s deputy in the Pacific Northwest (serial killer, environmentalists, Native Americans, etc.)

 

Then we have all the Very Likely to Happen (maybe even before the Will Happens, and those include Ill Met by Moonlight (sequel to This Rough Magic) and Bite Club (sequel to Mummy Dearest). These are both novellas which means pretty quick and easy to write provided I don’t get distracted and lured away by other projects.

 

Ill Met By Moonlight will be paired with TRM in a print anthology -- and there will be an audio book. There should also be a general historical print collection with a new short story. I’m sort of tossing that idea around to figure out what would work best -- should I include IMbM and TRM in that? Or should I leave them in their own print collection? Or both? I’m undecided.

 

I believe I mentioned elsewhere that the last three Adrien English novels have been picked up for Japanese translation by Shinshokan? And we’re continuing to look into more possibilities for translation in other corners of the globe.

 

Finally we have the stuff that should happen, but I don’t want to think about right now: Haunted Heart: Spring, Dangerous Ground 6, Christmas stories, etc. I am very eager to write the sequel to Snowball in Hell, but the original story I’d planned is now pushed back for a book or two within the series. In the words of Stewie the GPS voice…recalculating. And that long talked about project inspired by The Monument Men seems like maybe its time has come...

 

The reality is I can only do 4 -5 projects a year without straining -- strain does not produce the best work, so it’s a matter of figuring out the right projects for the right time. And how I do that is to calculate what I am most eager to write with what you are most eager to read. Sometimes I come up with the perfect solution. Sometimes…not so much.

 

Anyway, that’s where we stand as of this moment. Things could change. They often do. And very often what you have to say plays a part in that. So feel free to speak up now!

 

Three Interview Questions You’re Not Expecting with the Loverly Z.A. Maxfield!

As you may or may not be aware, my longtime pal Z.A. Maxfield is hitting the road again with a new book. My Heartache Cowboy is the sequel to her popular mainstream release My Cowboy Heart. (If you haven't read it, it's classic ZAM. What are you waiting for?!)


I invited Z.A. to stop by and amuse the troops, and she turned the tables on me and dragged me into the interview room too!


**************************************

Hi Josh! Thanks for having me over here chez vous today! A lot of people probably know this by now, but you’re actually the reason I established an Internet blog presence. (I’m sure people are lining up to send you thank you cards. NOT)

I joined LiveJournal to read those posts you used to write about writers, writing, and the work you were doing back then. You were right in the middle of Adrien English and just starting to explore the world of Romance… I think I came in right around the release of The Dark Horse, and of course that led me to read the book The Charioteer by Mary Renault.

I looked to you and other successful writers like you back then for book recommends, writing tips, moral support, and a shoulder to cry on and you have always been so generous. Not only with me, but with all the people in your sphere of influence. So thanks for everything you’ve done, I wish I could be as good a mentee as you’ve been at mentoring me, but hey…I can only do what I can do…

I guess you can’t blame the path for the people on it… *snorts*  

Today I thought I’d do an interview format, and see if you’ll answer too…  

Three Interview Questions You’re Not Expecting.  

Three Books On A Desert Island -- This is like Marry, Kill or Shag only with books. You’ve got nothing to do, you have nothing to burn, and you have no toilet paper. What you do have is three books from tenth grade English. Fahrenheit 451, A Tale of Two Cities, and A Separate Peace. Read, burn, er...utilize in another way. Go... 

ZAM - Are there no leaves on this island? Is there no driftwood? Must I??? Really, must I???? 

Okay, if I must, I’d have to say, it just seems fitting to burn Fahrenheit 451, doesn’t it? I’ve read it, and I enjoyed it, but it’s not going to keep me warm unless I burn it.  

A Tale of Two Cities? Yep. I’m keeping that one. Not because I love a Separate Peace any less, but because if I’m going to spend all my time crying on a desert island, I’m going to do it with a longer read. It will take more of my time to get through A Tale of Two Cities than to read A Separate Peace, but the outcome is going to be the same: red swollen eyes, sobbing and despair. But at least at the end of A Tale of Two Cities, it will be a noble kind of despair.

True, and somewhat funny/sad story. On my daughter’s 10^th grade language arts syllabus, right on the top, the teacher put the 1 (800) number for the Teen Suicide Prevention Hotline. It was almost as if they took a look at books like A Separate Peace, A Tale of Two Cities, Of Mice and Men, The Brute, Medea, Frankenstein, and Antigone and thought, wait…

:-(

 

Josh? Do you want to play with those books, or do you want to spin the magic wheel of books and find three different books for your answer? 

Awww. I love A Separate Peace. I get choked up just thinking about it! I’m saving that. Anyway, I’m probably saving all of them because apparently I’m going to be dying of starvation and exposure quite soon anyway, so I’ll need something to take my mind off it. Reading and bracing sea baths. If I do break down, the first book I eat will be Fahrenheit 451, as I’ve always found it a lot to digest.

;-D

 

What will you bring for the coming cowboy apocalypse? Forget Zombies, the Cowboys are coming. Here’s what I’m bringing:

 Texas Caviar

1/2 onion finely diced

1/2 cup each finely diced red and green bell peppers

1 bunch green onions finely chopped (white part and some green)

1/2 bunch chopped parsley

1 basket cherry tomatoes, quartered

2 jalapeno peppers seeded and finely chopped (wear gloves, please)

1 T. fresh oregano chopped

3 T. minced garlic

2 cups vinaigrette

3 cans (15 ounce) black eyed peas rinsed and drained

1 can black beans

 

Combine all ingredients and let marinate in the refrigerator overnight. Serve with tortilla chips and lots of beer.

Funny/true story. My husband bought a bag of “UCLA corn chips” at Christmas. This did nothing to amuse my UCSC and UCI students, despite the fact that they were blue and gold, the correct colors for both my kids’ schools. Apparently they tasted, “Of betrayal.”

Josh, what are you bringing to the Cowboy Apocalypse?

 Oh man, I LOVE that Texas Caviar stuff. One reason I prefer zombies to cowboys is they don’t care about the hors d’oeuvres. MORE FOR ME.

Well, let’s see. You may be surprised to hear I spent several formative summers with cowboys. Elderly cowboys, yes, but cowboys nonetheless. So I am bringing what I know cowboys love. A twelve-pack of Coors beer (I know, I know!!) and the hottest freaking chili I can find.

I don’t eat chili though, so I will ask our readers to supply me with some good chili recipes. Anybody have a good chili recipe out there? Best chili recipe ever? Come on!  

And finally, which of your characters would survive a round of no-holds-barred dodgeball?

Out of all my characters, I think the winner would be Yamane from Drawn Together. Yamane’s tough. He’s resilient. I wrote him to be a true badass, deep down. I’m always likely to pick the little guy to win -- the underdog, the one who’s a little outmanned and outgunned but never outsmarted. That’s just how I like things, so naturally, I’m going to pick the most unlikely character and let him win it all.

Apologies to Samuel Colt, but fiction is the great equalizer. In my work, I have the opportunity to right all the world’s wrongs (as I see them) and settle old scores through the characters I create. So look out, ballers. Yamane is coming atcha.

 Josh? Which of your guys is the biggest badass.

Hmm. I was going to let Taylor MacAllister from the Dangerous Ground series take this one; he’s good at sports and is definitely a bad ass, but then I thought noooo, let’s let a REAL athlete at this one. So I’m choosing Mitchell Evans of Lone Star. Yeah, he’s a ballet dancer, and probably the only character I’ve created who can lift a grown woman over his head. He can leap six feet off the ground from a full stop, so I think he’s probably got this dodgeball thing nailed.




Thank you to Z.A. for stopping by -- and here's wishing her another bestseller!

Enter the Giveaway for Z.A. Maxfield's MY COWBOY HEARTACHE!

My Heartache Cowboy

(Cowboy Series, Bk #2) By Z.A. Maxfield

Blurb:

Can love conquer all? Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey. Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.

Available for purchase at

 

Excerpt

When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.

Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel--just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.

My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.

No keys.

Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.

I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.

One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .

Fuck.

Nothing.

What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.

I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.

“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”

“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.

“What?” Eddie jumped back.

“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”

Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”

I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”

Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”

“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”

Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”

“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”

I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”

“How about you suck my fucking--”

“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could--”

“Which I did,” I pointed out.

“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.

I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.

You’re going to have to sleep sometime.

Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.

One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.

No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.

Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.

And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.

Hadn't I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?

About the Author

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them. If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

You can find ZA Maxfield at

Giveaway

 

$50 Gift Card

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The Secret to my Success

Every so often I get an email from someone, generally a newish writer, asking if I would share some of the secrets on how I got to be where I am right now.

It’s only fair to point out that “where I am right now” is one of the leading writers in a very small sub-genre of romance. It’s not like I’ve hit the NYT Bestseller list, although I guess I probably earn as much or more as some NYT Bestsellers.

How much did I earn last year? It looks like I grossed -- grossed -- around $300Kish. Let me repeat again, GROSSED. That’s not how much I took home at the end of the year -- success doesn’t come cheap and I have invested heavily in my so-called success. One example: over 20K on producing audio books this year (and because I'm self-employed, I  pay 40% in taxes).

How did I do it?

 

Well, to begin with, some of my success is unique to me. I have been writing professionally over twenty years and it shows. It better show after twenty years! My first professional publication credit was at age 16.  Over the years I have developed what is called “a voice.” Fortunately enough readers enjoy reading that voice.

As you can imagine, publishing has changed a lot since I began way back when. In fact, there are times I feel that everything I once knew for a certainty in publishing is now…wrong. Or at least outdated.

For example: How often to publish. In the old days it was a series book every couple of years. Then every year. I remember having a minor panic attack when -- nearly a decade ago -- a bookseller told me I needed a new series book out every nine months. And now? Now series books are launched anywhere from every three to six months.

I’ll be honest. I struggle with that.

 

But anyway, the secret of my success.

Part of my success is I landed in a relatively small but promising sub-genre before the glut. I got here before the rush. That’s simply timing. I didn’t plan that. I was just writing what I loved to write. I arrived early and I arrived with a small, already established readership. Not a fan fiction-sized readership, I admit, but a loyal readership. Also, being an outsider helped. I was a novelty. I came from gay fiction and mainstream publishing. I had the advantage of being something new.

Again, this is all luck. I didn’t plan it.

Two things I did consciously do. I worked hard to build a quality backlist. And I interacted constantly and consistently with readers. I treated readers like I would want to be treated if I was brave enough to contact my favorite writers.

That’s basically how I got where I am. Luck and hard work. The luck was in the timing. The hard work was in the consistent and sustained effort to build a quality backlist and lasting relationships with readers.

I’m not sure if that’s helpful to new writers or not because luck can’t be managed and the hard work I put in seven years ago is irrelevant given current publishing conditions. Every author I know is now interacting feverishly with readers and breaking her or his back to push out a book every two months. Still, these two things remain the cornerstone of any successful modern writing career.

 

What advice would I give a new and aspiring writer in this genre?

 

1 - Write the best possible book you have in you. Publish every three months. In the short term, quantity counts. In the long term, quality. If you want your writing career to last more than a decade, take the time to write quality stories. Write them as fast as you can without sacrificing quality. You need about four “big” releases a year. More than that and you’re probably cutting corners somewhere. (I should probably qualify that a "big" release doesn't refer to word count. It refers to how much promo effort you're going to give to it.)

 

2 - Take advantage of every promotional opportunity that comes your way (and stop whining about how you’re a writer not a marketer -- no flipping kidding! -- NONE of us enjoy the promotion part of it, so get over yourself and act like a grown-up professional). No matter how small, no matter how insignificant, take every promo op that comes your way. And look for additional opportunities. Hunt them down. When you start out, you have to work your butt off to get known.

 

3 - Be realistic.  This sounds silly, but having realistic expectations will save wear and tear on your nerves and keep your creativity and productivity high. Nothing kills creativity like depression. And by “realistic” I mean PATIENT. I mean INFORMED. Know thy industry. I cannot help noticing a pattern whereby a relatively newish writer puts out a book that gets nice, enthusiastic reviews, hits the Amazon bestseller list and believes she’s arrived. Alternatively, a newish writer puts out a book and doesn’t get great reviews (or any reviews) and doesn’t hit the bestseller list and thinks her career is over.

Sorry. It doesn’t work like that. For most of us, success is the result of cumulative and sustained effort over a long period of time. As in YEARS.

 

4 - Keep honing your craft. Nobody likes to hear this, but if you’ve been professionally published for less than ten years, you still don’t know what the hell you’re doing. Honestly. We’re all still learning our craft. I’m still learning my craft. I look back at stuff I wrote ten years ago, and I wince. I hope I keep wincing. I hope ten years from now I’m wincing at what I’m writing today. As humans we’re always, always learning and growing, right? All through our lives? Well, ideally that’s happening with our art as well. We should keep getting better. (Up until the point we get old and fall apart, but let’s not think about that.)

 

There are other bits of advice, of course: pick the right publishing partners, hit your deadlines, read, be courteous, invest in your success, think out of the box, stay informed, create good Karma for yourself, etc.

 

If I had to give you one single piece of good advice -- it’s the same piece of advice that writers have been handing out to each other since the dawn of the printing press: always write the best book you possibly can at this particular place and time. I'm not saying this guarantees success, but if nothing else, there is satisfaction in knowing you always gave your best to everything you did.

 

  

 

 

And the winners are...

I so enjoyed -- was so cheered and inspired by these lovely thoughts -- that I'm kicking up the giveaway audio books to ten. :-)

Our winners are:

Pauper Joe
Savanna
Christine
KrissyVee
Pat B
StacieH4
AshleyE
Karen H
thelastaerie
Emily

Congratulations! Contact me with your email address and we'll get you hooked up and listening to your next story. :-)

Thank you all for contributing your winter loves this weekend. These Five Things blogs are some of my very favorites.

Five Things I Love

It's time for another Five Things I Love post. We do these daily in my Goodreads group, but I like to do them here seasonally on the blog as well. The last time was in the autumn and we've had plenty to love since then!

So as before, I'm giving away five audio books. This time it's The Dark Tide, the fifth and final (at least for the foreseeable future) Adrien English novel. Share five things you like about winter in the comments below to be entered for the audio book giveaway. I won't pick the winners until Sunday night.

Five things I love about winter:

1 - Rain

2 - The holidays. Yes, I'm glad they're over, and in all honesty this wasn't the best set of holidays ever given that I was working and/or sick through them, but I still love the holiday season. The holly and jolly, the hustle and bustle, the hurly and burly -- er, wait. Wrong holiday, that last one. But still!

 

3 - Documentaries. True, I watch documentaries all the time, but I watch more of them in the winter. This week I watched Black Fish. Fascinating -- and let me just say I won't be sharing my tourist dollars with SeaWorld anytime soon.

4 - The feel of sunlight on my face. Somehow it's warmer, sweeter, softer in winter. Maybe it's the promise of spring.

5 - Reading. I read all year long, but reading is especially pleasurable in the winter, I think. There's something about wrapping yourself in a warm blanket and settling down in front of the fire with a drink and a book. Nothing beats it.

Now you. Five things you love about winter for a chance at winning The Dark Tide in audio.

Here's to 2014!!

Wishing you all the best in the New Year. May 2014 bring you health and happiness -- and the understanding that nothing else matters.

And the winners are...

Sorry for dropping off in the middle of a big giveaway. It was the double-whammy combo of holidays and being sick AGAIN.

But LB and I do have winners, lots of winners in our audio book giveaway.

LB's winners were:

Jane Wilkinson
Susan Haase
Another Susan
Reader Cat
and Carey

And my winners were:

cloudless 9193
Aussie 54
Mari Donne
Jen C
Cynthia H.


So winners, please contact us! You will be given a download code and you can use it on either book. It's up to you.

Christmas Coda 28

Nathan and Matthew from SNOWBALL IN HELL

 

New Year’s Eve in the City of Angels.

Not so many angels out and about that night, and Matthew and his squad were kept busy with a knifing, two shootings, and an attempted kidnapping. By the time Matt finally got away it was about twenty minutes till the Witching Hour. He made for the Biltmore Hotel, knowing Nathan would be there.

It was standing room only at the Biltmore, dames and gents alike in silly hats and tinsel tiaras, blowing plastic horns and paper fizoos in each other’s faces. Everybody was talking and nobody was listening. The floor was littered with soggy confetti. Champagne glasses were overflowing, and seeing that this was the Biltmore, maybe it really was champagne spilling down the fronts of party frocks and dress uniforms.

Matthew worked his way through the crush of people in the elegant lobby with its parquet floors and rich jewel-toned carpets and carved ceilings. He made it to the bar but couldn’t find Nathan anywhere. He knew what that meant, and his heart sank.

Well, what had he expected? He had thought things were different now, but Nathan had been honest about what he needed, and Matt would somehow have to learn to accept it.

And if he couldn’t accept it… Then he would be equally honest.

But he wasn’t there yet. Not by a long shot. Yes, he was disappointed and, yeah, it hurt like hell that Nathan couldn’t do without for a single night, but Matthew had entered into this knowing he was going to have to take Nathan as he was. So he resisted the urge to search any further. Finding Nathan rolling around in the undergrowth at Pershing Square wasn’t going to do either of them any good.

So Matt left the party as midnight was chiming and drove home through the eerily silent streets. He tried not to think about Nathan or his own disappointment. He thought he was mostly successful, but when he reached his own street and saw Nathan’s Chrysler Highlander parked in front of his house, happiness and relief hit him in a warm rush. And with it a little stab of shame that he had wronged Nathan. It was frightening to care so much about someone you knew so little.

He parked beneath the trellised carport and walked back to the street. Nathan was sleeping in his car, head tipped back, his hat over his face. When Matt tapped on his window, he jumped and then grinned sheepishly, tiredly.

Matthew opened the door and Nathan unfolded wearily.

“Come inside,” Matthew told him.

Nathan threw an instinctive look at the dark windows of Mathew’s neighbors. “No. It’s all right. I just wanted -- needed -- to wish you…Auld Lang Syne. It wouldn’t have seemed right to start the new year off without seeing you.” He offered his hand.

Matthew took his hand, but didn’t release it. “Come inside,” he said again.

He could see Nathan wavering, recognized the longing because he felt just the same. Nathan said reluctantly, “Your neighbors are going to notice if I spend another night here.”

He was right, but Matthew just couldn’t bring himself to care enough to give up the pleasure of being together even for a few hours. He placed his other hand on Nathan’s shoulder, guiding him toward the house. “Then we’ll have to think of some reason for you to visit. Don’t we share a Great Aunt Gertrude? How’s she doing these days anyway? How’s her lumbago?”

Nathan shook his head, but Matthew caught the whisper of his laugh. Then he was unlocking the side door and letting them into the silent and dark house. The door closed behind them. Matthew felt for the chain, slid it into place, and took Nathan into his arms. Nathan hugged him back  fiercely.

“Happy New Year, Nathan,” Matthew said softly, and kissed him.