Hello ladies, gentlemen and creatures not yet identified by science. This is Sarah Hoyt, once more missing Dragoncon to bring you these pearls of wisdom. Okay, fine. I’m missing Dragoncon because I’m broke, so I might as well bring you these pearls of wisdom.
Over this weekend, forcibly away from my colleagues who are having way too much fun starting right about now, I’ve been giving some thought to the whole traditional and indie model, which, as you know, is something I never do – coff.
Cons and publishers and the whole enterprise of publishing as I entered it, oh, thirteen years ago or so with the publication of my first novel, was very much a social thing. What I mean is, from the outside, it looked like a collegial and harmonious enterprise. All the authors seemed to know each other and at least superficially get along. And you read – at least in books published a long time ago – that all the authors helped each other.
Was this true?
Well, now. Some of it was. Some number of my colleagues were always big-hearted professionals, willing to help a newby who kept her nose clean and worked really hard. I’m minded here of Kevin J. Anderson who unbent from his Olympian heights to keep me sane and keep my hope alive after the publishing world shut its doors in my face when my first book series failed, back in 2003. I’m thinking of Dave Drake, who gave me my introduction to Baen.
But these were, at the time, almost acts of exceptional courage. When I found myself on the outside looking in, the people who helped shine by their exceptional courage. It was a whispered truism in the field that you shouldn’t stand too close to someone the gods of publishing disfavored, because, you know, the publishers might think you were tainted.
This made perfect sense in an oligopsony that could control your fortunes not just what they did, but with what they failed to do (such as promote your books) and when you had no way to make a living through these at best indifferent gatekeepers.
The oligopsony created a finite pie, too. There were so many slots for so many authors, so many spaces in the shelves of bookstores. Even if it were your best friend being picked up and promoted, you felt a twinge of … not quite envy, because that slot couldashouldamighta have been yours.
This precluded the amity between writers from being quite as it appeared in public. As did the often random preferential treatment given to those with connections and publishing contacts.
My dentist once told me he knew I was a novelist because I had tooth grinding problems. (This worried me a little. How many novelists are there in my neighborhood?)
How much things have changed. Nowadays, despite certain people at Teh Grauniad lamenting the “reactionary” and individualistic tendencies of indie publishing, where it’s apparently a writer eat writer world, in fact, I’ve found a lot more cooperation, a lot more help in the new model.
And why not? After all, in the new model there is no finite pie. If any of you falls madly in love with my historical mysteries, it doesn’t mean you’ll buy fewer historical mysteries, but rather more, as I can’t write as fast as anyone reads, and you’ll need more books to feed the habit.
There is also a sort of spontaneous cooperation. For instance, I said on a couple of facebook groups “Wouldn’t it be fun if we could have a labor day sale?” And lo and behold, there is a Labor Day sale, with writers who don’t even know each other, but who all figured that there is … sales generation in numbers.
So – at this link are a bunch of books, all of which are 2.99 or less. Some of which are advertised below. And some of which are mine. And it all happened spontaneously, through a bunch of authors, cooperating and stuff. Indie authors, you know, those reactionary forces of darkness. (If I’m going to be a force of darkness I must have a cloak and a moustache!)
Have a good Labor Day weekend and read a lot. Don’t worry about finite pies, either. We’ll write more.
Congratulations,for this week’s links, every last one of the submissions wins the “Authors who can read as well as write” No Prize for submitting the TITLE, AUTHOR’s NAME, BLURN of less than 100 words, and AMAZON LINK to [email protected]. Tell all your friends, let’s see if we can keep the run going.
Well, okay, except for one. If your blurb looks a little abbreviated (by which I mean massively cut) you’ll know who you are.
Remember, send your entries to [email protected]. In return you’ll receive your very own copy of the guidelines for submission.
Vaughan Beadles, Professor of Anthropology at toney Creighton University, is on top of the world. Married to the beautiful Betty, Beadles has just taken possession of the largest uncatalogued Amerindian collection in the US. For years Beadles has theorized that the previously unknown Azuma were among the conquistadors’ first encounters. But when one of Beadles’ students dies from a scorpion sting his world comes crashing down. Betty leaves him and the University charges him with grand larceny and manslaughter.
Beadles’ only hope for redemption is to prove the Azuma were real and find the epicenter of their civilization, a journey that takes him from Illinois to Arizona and a fateful encounter with a monster literally from his own nightmares.
After years of self-imposed exile, Christy McCauley finally returns home, unaware that the hollows of rural Augusta County where she grew up have become the hunting grounds for an unknown creature that has authorities baffled as it grows ever bolder and more savage. When Christy finds herself caught in the beast’s path, she must choose between fleeing her home to save her own life or standing her ground, and with the help of her friends, hunting down the predator before it kills again.
On a lovely spring day in April, he finally pushes her that tiny bit too far and she snaps. Deep within her, a cold, cruel voice she barely recognizes as her own pronounces those fateful words, “I’m going to kill you, Bobby Hilts.” Ride the crazy train along with Pammy as she gleefully plots her soon-to-be ex’s demise and the diabolical means that ensure that his body will never be found.
Madness, morality, murder, revenge, and unrequited love: A modern take on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, suitable for adults and older teens.
For a thousand years, the new gods of mankind have protected the remnants of humanity. Reduced to a handful of survivors after a devastating alien invasion, a desperate human race accepted these gods as defenders against the terrors of a hostile universe. But when the greatest of man’s redoubts, The City, is assaulted by a power rivaling even that of the guardian god, the burden of protecting mankind’s future will fall to others. And what can mere men and women do against forces that can reshape and manipulate the universe itself?
For eight years, Kris was the property of a brutal slaver captain.
Now she’s free and a cadet at the League’s military academy. All she brings
to this new life is a unique set of skills, a profound ignorance of
‘civilized’ society, and a large chip on her shoulder.
But if Kris isn’t quite sure what to make of the Academy, the Academy isn’t
at all sure what to make of her. The medical staff thinks she’s homicidal,
her fellow cadets think she’s crazy, and her instructors don’t know what to
So when she’s asked to help capture a terrorist warlord, she’s more than
happy to leave the halls of academia behind for awhile. Kris knows she’s not
signing up for any pleasure cruise. What she doesn’t know is that the key to
the mission’s success is reliving her very worst nightmare . . .
Urdaisunia, once favored by the gods above all other lands, now lies defeated and in ruins. The gods, displeased by the Urdais’ weakness, have turned their backs on the land and left it to die.
Rashali, a widowed Urdai peasant, has vowed to destroy the conquering Sazars and restore Urdaisunia to greatness, but her people are too broken by famine, plague, and poverty to fight.
Prince Eruz, heir to the Sazar throne, is driven by his conscience to do what is best for all the people of Urdaisunia, Urdai and Sazar alike. His father the King views his concern for the Urdai as an unforgivable weakness, and Eruz must walk a dangerous line between loyalty and treason to do what he believes is right.
When Rashali and Eruz meet by chance, the gods take notice. As Rashali struggles to find a way to free her people and Eruz risks all to bring peace to the land, a divine wager sends peasant and prince on intertwining paths of danger, love, and war in their fight to save the land they both love – Urdaisunia.
Across Four Realms is a collection of short stories that introduces the reader to four disparate universes, with the sole constant that chaos knows no boundaries…and pain is a companion to all.