And I’m not talking about me!
I’ve paid a goodly amount of money–as in thousands of dollars–to have City of the Damned and The Gathering Dead professionally edited by folks who work in the industry and have references and attestations that are miles long. I thought I’d done my due diligence and covered all the bases, and reviewed the edited manuscripts as carefully as I could, but alas–all was not well in Mudville after all.
Readers of both books have written to me about numerous errors in the manuscripts.
Sometimes, you just can’t win for trying.
…Happy Easter, everyone! Hope your day is a good one, and remember… even zombie Easter bunnies need a head shot.
On various forums throughout the great spiralling galaxy of the Internet, there is something of a pitched battle being fought with regards to the merits of self-publishing (or indie publishing, as some call it–I guess it sounds nicer and probably invites fewer derogatory comments). On one side, we have those who cling to the belief that traditional publishing is the only “real” way a writer can move his or her work; if you’re really good at telling stories, traditional publishers will automagically recognize that and snatch up your property, print several thousand books, ship them to eager booksellers who will sell them faster than the U.S.S. Enterprise traveling at warp nine. And most assuredly, in some cases that has been the case–this simply cannot be overlooked, or ignored. You don’t see James Patterson trying to get out of his contract with Hachette, do you? Or even his apparent nemesis, the redoubtable Stephen King. Hell, not even James Ellroy is brave enough to do that, and there’s no way you could convince me his nickname in high school wasn’t Iron Balls.
On the other side, we have self-pub luminaries like J.A. Konrath and Dean Wesley Smith charting out the independent territory for the rest of us. There’s no doubt that Konrath’s previous life as a midlister gave him something of a leg up when he started out two years ago, but that’s old, moldy news now. I can’t see how having been published by one of the NYC houses years ago somehow continues to confer additional credibility upon his growing self-pub empire today, anymore than it does for, say, his occasional writing partner Blake Crouch, who has slammed one right out of the ballpark with his mondo cool Run. And even if that is the case–their publishing histories somehow continue to propel them to winning self-pub gold medals–what about John Locke? In his own words, he didn’t even bother trying to get an agent and soldier on into the traditional publishing battlefield. It wasn’t for him, and he’s been lighting Donovan Creed’s cigars with $100 bills ever since. And of course, no discussion about the trials and tribulations of self-publishing can go on without invoking that legendary monicker, Hocking. Her success rivals anything that traditional publishing can point to in its collective track record, and that’s no lie.
It’s pretty obvious, and even the late Ray Charles probably could have seen there are two tracks to excellence right now. While wearing his trademark sunglasses, even.
Traditional publishing is hard, harder than it probably needs to be. There are gatekeepers at every turn, gatekeepers which were probably somewhat necessary (in theory, anyway) in 2001, but it truly does seem they are breathlessly chasing after relevance now. Writer writes, writer rewrites, writer polishes, writer waits months or even years for an agent, writer waits more months or years for a contract with a traditional publisher, and then… writer waits for months for the book to be slotted and printed. And oh yeah, writer also waits tp pass contractual roadblocks before he or she can get paid what he or she was promised.
And then the writer has to wait to earn out the advance before any more dough comes through.
No lies here, that’s how it works. Plenty of folks out there who will confirm this.
Now contrast that with self-publishing. Okay, you have to wait a couple of days maybe for your work to appear on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, but that’s about 500 days sooner than with a traditional house. For those of us who are young, that’s probably not a problem. For those of us who are closer to shuffling off this mortal coil, the extra 500 days might come in handy. Sales can literally start within 48 hours, sometimes even sooner–I had one unit of The Gathering Dead sell before the book was available to me in Amazon’s Kindle Bookshelf page. That’s a near-immediate connection with a revenue stream, and in these troubled, uncertain times, any inbound revenue is a good thing. The chances of you being the next Konrath or Hocking are about a zillion to one, though–you have to keep that in mind. Don’t fixate on the financial rewards right off the bat, otherwise you’ll get discouraged.
But speaking of wealth building, the best thing you can do in this regard is to have a lot of titles ready to go. I have five up right now, with another coming online in a month. Is that enough? Nope, it’s not even half as much as I think I need. And short stories? Forget ‘em. I have two up, and while they sell, it’s at a rate of maybe one per day. That’s not enough. My novels sell at a much higher rate, and even the one novella I have up moves a bit more than the shorts, though not by much. Clearly, folks perceive more value with the longer works, and my advice to you would be to work on those.
Other things you should be mindful of…
- Your work must be edited. To my horror, I was notified by a reader that my bestselling zombie novel The Gathering Dead had errors in it–and that’s after several passes of my own, followed on by faithful beta readers and one editor. There were about six or seven issues with the manuscript, and they were easy enough to eradicate once they were discovered, but don’t do that to your readers.
- You have to know your target audience. If you don’t have the foggiest notion of who might buy your book, then that’s a great big red flag right there. And guess what? If you don’t know who might be interested in the work, then traditional publishers wouldn’t know either, so you’ve managed to kill two birds with one stone right out of the starting gate. That’s not a great sign.
- Be flexible. Folks might react very, very well to one of your products. You’ll want to be able to take advantage of that reaction. I never knew that The Gathering Dead would be the product in my line that would outsell everything else by a factor of 10 to 1, and now I’m scrambling to take advantage of that momentum and get a follow-on product out there. Don’t let this happen to you. At least have an idea for a follow-on product for every book you release, just so you don’t spend a lot of time casting about for a story while the clock’s ticking.
- Covers and product descriptions. I’ve covered these before, but this bears repeating. Traditional publishing pays attention to this stuff; they have entire marketing departments built around these roles. You might want to do more than find a picture on the web and toss a title banner on it. Trust me, I did this myself and got nowhere. There’s probably no need for you to play the n00b when I’ve already done it for you.
- Get reviews. You need these, and even if they suck, any mention is a good mention.
A lot of folks out there have already made a lot of these points, but all of them bear repeating, again and again and again. These are where traditional publishing can still smoke the self-published without undue effort. Self-pubbed authors need to pay attention to these factors, and also reconcile themselves with the fact that a large percentage of the writing public–you know, other writers, your peers–will look down on your works when you self-pub, no matter how polished they are or how successful you’ve become. It’s funny, in an odd way. There’s so much hostility toward the traditional publishing crowd toward self-pubbers that it almost reminds me of a pogrom of sorts, albeit one with much less blood being spilled. And there are those self-pubbers who are more than just a touch evangelical about their chosen path. I try to steer clear of both groups, and you might want to consider that course of action as well.
So there is a bit of internecine combat going on between us writers. I’m not sure why it’s necessary, but the only way to close the gap and earn some respect is for us self-pubbers to take our mission very, very seriously. It’s the sloppy, disorganized approach that gives us a bad name–no matter that there are plenty of traditional publishers out there that are just as sloppy, just as disorganized, just as clueless as anyone else. For the moment, they have the respect of most writers, and the only way that’s going to change is if self-published writers are at the top of their game.
And with that, I leave you with this immortal quote from two of the 20th Century’s greatest philosophers: “Party on, dudes!”
In a decision I’m sure he regrets completely now, Darrell Pitt of 1001 Secrets of Successful Writers has posted an interview with me! I found it interesting, because he certainly jumped the gun–I’m not successful yet. But for a chortle or a giggle, check out Stephen Knight — Self Discipline a Key to Writing Success.
I’ve found that discipline is indeed something that is key in writing. But then and again, so is gud speeling!
Self-pub luminary Joe Konrath has another award-winning post detailing the merits of self-publishing versus traditional publishing over at his all-too-cool blog, A Newbie’s Guide to Publishing (though it would take a hell of a snake oil salesman to convince me Konrath is a “newbie” at this game). Post in question is titled simply, Are You Dense? and targets those among us who routinely cast aspersions about folks who go the self-pub route.
One fiery bon mot I appreciate:
Only Joe Konrath and Amanda Hocking make good money self-pubbing.
First of all, anyone who spouts this nonsense is a lazy researcher, because it’s a simple Google search to find dozens of authors making good money.
Second of all, this statement could just as well be: Only Stephen King and James Patterson make good money legacy publishing.
If you had to take a shot to try to emulate my career, or try to emulate Stephen King’s career, you have a much higher likelihood of success by doing it my way.
What can I say, other than: Well said, Joe!
While The Gathering Dead keeps running up the charts on Amazon (currently #12 on the Occult list, #45 on the Horror list), I’m surprised that City of the Damned isn’t getting more love. City of the Damned is one fine piece of work, epic in scale but humanistic in scope, set against the dazzling backdrop of one of America’s finest cities, Los Angeles. The land of sun and fun, where one would never expect vampires to lurk… and especially vampires with a plan that extends far beyond just feeding on hapless humans.
So City of the Damned is now another 99 cent wonder on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords. My hope is the price drop will kickstart its progress up the charts, as this is one hell of a good story. It has everything folks who appreciate the horror genre will dig: adventure, chills, spills, sex (oh yes, gotta have that!), realistic human interaction, and major scale crises where the future of humanity hangs in the balance.
So what are you waiting for? Get your love on! No sparkly, fey vampires here, these are the real deal: enemies of Mankind, who seek our enslavement. H.P. Lovecraft would have been proud to have this title in his arsenal, should he be alive today.
Quicker than the 80hp go-cart I had as a kid, Hackett’s War is available in Amazon’s Kindle Store! If you’ve been hankering for some good old-fashioned military adventure, then consider this your recruiting opportunity–Hackett and company need your fire support, so get in there, troop!
As the novella Hackett’s War gets ready for release in a couple of days, I thought I’d go ahead and release a teaser:
“This making war for cash thing is almost starting to get old,” Otis said as he lay stretched out in the hide site. Rivulets of sweat ran down his bald, black head, and his breath was heavy, almost labored. Ever since leaving the U.S. Army, he had put on forty pounds. Everyone in the company said the extra weight would kill him one way or the other. Otis presumed that meant his fat black ass was getting too slow for the battlefield, so he proved them all wrong by entering into an extreme exercise regimen that none of the other troops could match. The funny thing was, it did nothing to reduce his expanding midsection and nascent man-boobs. As long as Otis continued eating like a horse, he was going to be a hefty, hefty boy.
“Anytime you want to quit, you just let me know,” Hackett said. He was stretched out beside Otis, lying on his stomach on a hillside some 60 meters from the road. He scanned the area below through his binoculars. The humidity was high and uncomfortable, and like Otis, Hackett sweated beneath the bug spray and sun block. Unlike Otis, he was not five foot nine inches tall and two hundred and sixty pounds; he was six foot three and much leaner, tipping the scales at one ninety-five.
“I’m gone after this year’s bonus,” Otis said.
“No bonuses this year.”
“Then next year, damn it.”
“No bonus next year, either. I’ve decided I want to buy a Lamborghini in every color of the spectrum. Sorry.”
“Well shit then, boss. Guess you’re stuck with me and my bitchin’.”
Hackett smiled and surveyed the gently rolling hills on the other side of the road. “Only until I decide to fire you.”
“Man, with all the money that’s supposed to be in this convoy, we could all get a nice little bonus,” Otis said.
“The money is not our objective, Otis.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get that—I’ve been awake for the past couple of days, I know what we’re doing here, Hack. But all of that cash is gonna be right there, just waitin’ for us…”
Through the binoculars, Hackett could just barely make out the second sniper team, crouched in their own hide site. The only reason he could see them at all was because he knew exactly where to look. No one else would have such luck.
Below, the assault teams were hidden from view. Two elements lay on either side of the road. The old Ford flat bed truck they had was parked across the road, as if it had experienced a blow out and went out of control. Two of Jerry Fletcher’s shooters milled around the vehicle. They were dressed in civilian clothes, and their weapons and body armor were hidden in the truck’s cab. They acted as if they were looking for a jack. In the far distance, small boats dotted the royal blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Fishing boats, plying their trade.
What I wouldn’t give to be on one of those now, Hackett thought. He dropped the field glasses from his eyes and removed his Kevlar helmet, taking a moment to run a gloved hand across his close-cropped dark hair. He looked over at Otis. Even though the corpulent sniper was all mouth today, he was still on the job; he peered through the M24’s scope with his right eye, keeping the weapon oriented on the road.
“If we have the time, we’ll scope out the cash. If it’s really in dollars, you can have some of it. All right?”
“And the rest of the guys too,” Otis said. “Don’t let it be said I’m a greedy muthafuck. The other guys get their share too, right? I mean, why let a drug lord keep all of that cash? It’s just immoral, man.”
Hackett sighed. “If it doesn’t get stolen from us or explode into flame, then sure.”
He didn’t see the grin spread across Otis’s face, but he could hear it in his voice. “Man, that is simply awesome. Taking a couple of million bucks from a drug lord. That’s money well earned.”
Hackett grunted and checked his watch. It was almost a quarter past twelve in the afternoon. The targets would be arriving at any moment now. Below, a man pulled a laden burro down the hillside road. He looked like a common campesino, his skin coffee-colored from years of exposure to the sun. The packs on the burro’s back were full of some produce. Bell peppers? Hackett wondered idly. The burro’s plodding pace kicked up a small amount of dust as it walked.
“Shotgun Six, Floater. Vehicle traffic headed southbound. Three targets matching the description. Headed directly into the engagement area, over.”
The voice was loud over Hackett’s tactical radio headset even though the speaker was dozens of miles to the west on a ship outside Mexico’s territorial waters. Despite the distance, the folks aboard the ship had eyes in the sky high overhead, small unmanned aerial vehicles that saw everything. Hackett pointed the binoculars down the road. Sure enough, there was the gleam of sunlight reflecting off glass and chrome.
“Roger that, Floater. Hammer Two-Six, you are a go, you are a go. Remember, we need the principal alive, everyone else can go tango uniform if required, over.”
Jerry Fletcher’s voice was clipped but even. “Shotgun Six, Hammer Two-Six, roger all.”
“Time for some shootin’,” Otis said, as he stretched one last final time. “Then hopefully, it’ll be time for some countin’.”
“Blessed are the beasts with the one track mind,” Hackett said. “You ready to line up on some targets?”
Despite everything, despite all the razzing he took for his weight, no one could ever pretend that Otis Johnson was anything but a cold-hearted predator. As he looked through the M24’s telescopic sight, his index finger moved from the trigger guard to the trigger itself as the first red Range Rover came around the bend. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke.
This is the first of a series of three novellas that will chronicle the adventures of Hackett and company as they set about righting wrongs and feverishly attempt not to wrong any rights at the same time. I’ll post links when the final product is available, and of course, it will debut at the requisite 99¢!
This time out, I’m going to introduce you guys to a fantastic thriller novel by my pal, Fred Anderson. No Limit is a technothriller that has its roots in science fiction, in the same vein as several bestsellers by Dean Koontz. Here’s the product description:
Poker player Matt Freeman knows life is a gamble, so when an oncologist offers an experimental gene therapy as a possible cure for the terminal cancer killing his eleven-year-old son Andrew, he takes a chance. The treatment works, and Matt feels like he’s beaten the house. His elation is short-lived, however, because Andrew is soon killed in a freak accident.
Nearly a year later, he is still struggling with his loss when a midnight phone call begins with a single electrifying word: “Daddy?”
He races into the Nevada desert to find Andrew not only alive, but in possession of an incredible new ability and on the run from those he calls “bad people.” Now Matt must protect his son from enemies with seemingly endless resources—and the willingness to turn Las Vegas into a battle zone.
This is a story that crackles right along at lightspeed, and it’s full of thrills and the occasional chill to keep you on your toes. But at its core, it’s the story of a man’s love for his son, and how that love is unconditional and completely limitless. I hadn’t expected to find such heart-warming elements in a book of this nature, but wow… there they were, and they added to the overall tapestry of coolness that permeates this book. So pick it up! It’s priced at the eminently reasonable 99¢ for this month only, so jump on it! Has a great cover by the super-talented Jared Rackler, too!
It’s really, really gratifying to get some good reviews for The Gathering Dead. I’m surprised to discover that a zombie book is basically kicking the stuffing out of my other offerings, which has me both excited and worried–Hackett’s War is in review now, and I plan to release it next week. But this isn’t a horror book, it’s a hostage rescue story. Will I displease my, ah, fan base? (He asks, laughing at himself for being a pretentious prick for even thinking he has a “fan base”.)
Thanks so much for reading my story… and double thanks for enjoying it. I’ll continue to do whatever I need to do to keep you guys happy. Well–no lap dances or anything like that. At least not yet.