Year: 2014 (page 1 of 61)

As 2015 is peering around the fringe of the dusty black curtain, waiting for its time on stage, I figured that, as I am a loud, tap-dancing asshole on the stage of writing and publishing, I could get away with mouthily shouting my wishlist for the realm of writing and publishing into the air and hoping someone will listen.

So, this is me, doing exactly that.

*tap dances and shouts*

Dear Amazon:

Yes, Amazon, you know I have to start with you, first. How can I not? You’ve dominated the 2014 news-cycle, haven’t you? Amazon is increasingly the Wonka Factory of publishing: calliope music drifting from its colorful chimneys as great burping tubes upchuck new programs and initiatives and algorithms into the river. Sometimes we stare in wonder at your multiplying glories, basking in the power you’ve given us. Other times we regard you with alien horror, and we whisper to one another, I think they make Kindles out of little dead girls. We know you do amazing things. And we’re also really worried about the things you might do.

So, here’s my 2015 wishlist for you.

1.) Drop the exclusivity on Kindle Select and Kindle Unlimited. Here’s how you keep people publishing with you: just be awesome. Do no evil and be continuously aggressive in being better than everyone else. But forcing exclusivity — and worse, doing so by making the authors (effectively) pay a cost — is really weird, and sounds like you’re hoping folks will buy in without realizing what they’re doing. It’s corrosive and erosive and, ennh.

2.) Okay, let’s say you still wanted to do exclusivity? Fine. Make it a real benefit. Simple and concrete: give better royalties to those who commit only to you. Either bump the current royalty rate or offer some other genuine benefit that is tied explicitly to money.

3.) Kindle Unlimited? That dog isn’t hunting, yet — at least, for my mileage. Sounds like readers aren’t finding what they want there. Writers are finding that their hamstrings have been cut. All of it tied to dubious algorithms that operate behind a very thick veil of smoke and mirrors. The NYT has kind of a hate-boner for you, dear Amazon, but just the same: this article is pretty good at articulating the problem with KU (and the inimitable Scalzi is good at articulating why subscription models for writers make us pee a little in fear). (Or: read this one by Mike Underwood.) If you’re going to keep Kindle Unlimited around, okay — but again, kill the exclusivity, and instead of a generic pool of random made-up money, just pay authors their proper 70% cut (though okay, maybe you increase the “read-through” rate of the book to somewhere between 25-50% in order to make the rental more quantifiably meaningful).

4.) Your pricing window is artificial. Stop forcing it. $2.99 to $9.99 is fine, but you don’t need to restrictively force that pricing window — just give the 70% on everything. The price of e-books will shake out fine because buyers and publishers will wibble-wobble until they find What E-Books Should Cost At This Moment. And besides, you muddy your own pricing waters with Kindle Unlimited. “Keep the price between $2.99 and $9.99,” you say, “unless of course you’re in Kindle Unlimited, in which case do the opposite because that’s the only way you earn well per download.”

5.) The shit volcano is bubbling. This maybe isn’t your fault or responsibility, but the numbers of e-books released on Amazon in particular is increasing at a spectacular rate (and Kindle Unlimited encourages this — because now some authors are breaking their novels apart into bite-sized serial components to take advantage of the smaller payout). I know digital books are not physical books, but it does feel like the metaphorical dam is about to break, here. At the very least, discoverability on your site is pretty fucking close to zero. (And now rumors suggest that those in Kindle Unlimited are given favor in the recommendation engine, which hones the discoverability — but in a very biased direction.)

6.) Speaking of that, your website needs an overhaul. You wanna be Facebook, but you’re looking like Myspace. I half expect blinky glitter fonts. You are the e-commerce site, so — maybe this is just me — but I’d say your shit needs an overhaul. Wanna stay the leader? Look like the leader.

7.) You have so many conflicting, bewildering publishing programs that at this point, I think you’re just disrupting yourself. Focus, Daniel-son. Focus. Sweep the leg! Crane kick! You’re the best around! And other assorted Karate Kid references!

8.) Books are not loss-leaders. That just makes my heart hurt. *one lone tear rolls down cheek*

Dear Big Publishers:

You poor bastards get a bad rap, too. Despite being populated with folks who genuinely love books and, further, being responsible for the larger bulk of meaningful book culture, you catch a helluva lot of flak. Except, sometimes? Sometimes you earn the flak. Sometimes you do things to writers — we, who are supposed to be your business partners, not your employees — that are downright exploitative. So, that means you get a wishlist, too! It’s like Oprah, except instead of handing out Cadillacs, I’m handing out cranky, petulant demands that will surely be ignored!

1.) Quit the sly wink-wink vanity publishing. That time has come and it reeks of sinister mustache-twirling authorial sweat-shops. I’m not saying there’s not a place for you in the interstitial author-publisher realm, but charging exorbitant fees for essentially nothing is Not How Publishing Should Work. You know it, and you’d never tell an actual author friend to do it, so stop doing it. Stop it! Bad Author Solutions! Bad.

2.) Okay, the 25% e-book royalty thing? Gotta change. Someone, please please please, take the move to to change this. Up it. You’ll be heroes. We’ll carry you around the city square — ticker tape and flung candy and consensual sexual favors, ahoy. You make more money on e-books while we, the author, make less. Either up the rate or make it based on list price rather then net price (“net” meaning, on the money after lots of other little fees and percentages whittle it down). If you want to counter self-publishing, and polish your own apple a little: make this one change. We will sing paeans to you. You have my sword. And my axe. And my sweet kisses.

3.) DRM, no. DRM is dum-dum. DRM is that line from Star Wars about how the tighter you close your fist, the more star systems slip through your fingers. Don’t be Darth Vader. Why would you wanna be Darth Vader? Redeem yourself and throw the Emperor that is restrictive Digital Rights Management into the… well, wherever it was that Darth threw the Emperor. The Death Star’s galactic laser toilet? I dunno. DRM, by the way, is how you increase piracy, not decrease it. If you make it easier to pirate e-books instead of buy them and use them however you want — well, what do you think people are gonna go? (Here I will casually note that one of my awesome publishers, Saga S&S, has chosen to go DRM-free going forward.)

4.) It’s time to talk about non-compete clauses. I understand why they exist. I do! You’re still beholden to physical print books and the bookstores that sell them. I understand that if your author, Damien Caine, releases one supernatural thriller with you and a different supernatural thriller with a separate publisher — and these releases happen fairly close to one another — that someone like Barnes & Noble may make the difficult call of stocking one book over another. Still, a lot of your non-competes are overly restrictive — they’re like, YOU CAN’T PUBLISH A TWEET WITHOUT CHECKING WITH US FIRST and it’s like, hey, whoa, ease off the stick, hoss. Writers these days need to make a living and that sometimes means writing diversely across genres, age ranges, publishers, and formats. You gotta allow that or we can’t fucking eat. Okay?

5.) I still feel like there’s a big opportunity for you and independent bookstores. I’m gonna float this idea again in the hopes someone listens: produce special edition copies of some books by some authors, and allow only indie bookstores to sell them. Listen, indie stores are the beating heart of book culture. I believe this. Not all of them are created equally, and some are downright shitty, but the ones that rule are so vibrant and so amazing — they are the petri dishes for book bacterial spread. Sounds gross. Isn’t gross. Is totally awesome. Partner with them. In a big, interesting way. Give them something nobody else does. Reward them for being who they are. Give them a little boost. They need the boost, goddamnit. You need them, too. This math is easy.

6.) When I buy a physical copy of your book, I also want the digital copy. Just… full stop. No more ninnymandering, no more wafflepantsing, no more flimsyjibbing. Yes, sure, okay, I did indeed just make those words up, but you know what I’m saying. Stop delaying this. I know it’s easier said than done. I know I’m just the loud asshole tap-dancing over here in denial of the complicated realities of your business. And I don’t care. Just do it. Get it done. Make it so. Do it. Do it. Doooo. Eeeeet. *bites belt* *gnashes teeth* *drinks whiskey* *punches dolphin*

Dear Writers:

And finally, to you, my dear penmonkeys. You bring good things to the world, but so many of you (me sometimes included) have the business sense of a shit-covered brick.

1.) Exclusivity is to someone else’s benefit, not yours. Meaning: they should be paying you for the privilege. That’s true of Amazon and their programs, and that’s true of big publishers and their non-compete clauses. Big companies are not your pals and you need to approach all these deals accordingly. So many authors are so emotionally invested and excited just to be published that they forget they’re also supposed to be paid.

2.) Hybrid publishing is rad. Do it. Do it now. Don’t wait. Both traditional publishing and self-publishing each come with a set of disadvantages unique to each that are often off-set by the advantages unique to each. Example: traditional pays slow, but self-publishing pays regularly, so money earned as an author-publisher fill the valleys between the larger paychecks handed out from traditional. Another example: it can be hard to generate attention with self-publishing, but in traditional some attention is automatically generated — and it can draw people to your self-published work, too. The two sides feed each other. Like sexy dates on Valentine’s day spooning chocolate mousse into each other’s mouths. Yeah. Like that. Lick the spoon. Do it. Nnnngh. Now put on the pony costumes and join Satan’s orgy room and WHOA THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY.

3.) To reiterate: get paid. Try to walk that line between I want to be read and I want to be paid. I don’t mean to suggest that every word you write should be a quarter flipped into your wishing well — I just mean, the overall goal is to make it somehow sustainable. Writing means being a writer, full stop. Professional writing means getting paid for it. You know how great it is to pay bills with Writer Money? It’s basically the best thing ever. Even better than Satan’s pony-show orgy hour.

4.) Give your work the time that it needs. I know the trend is more faster better now, but seriously: your work takes the time that it takes, and the best work is rarely work that floods the market. At the same time, I do recognize that writing a lot helps you get paid. Again: find the line, but above all else, make sure the books don’t suffer from over-acceleration. Don’t rush. Rushing rarely results in anything good. It’s how you choke, or trip, or ruin your butthole with furious pushing.

5.) Be wary of subscription services. They ain’t all bad, and the idea is sound and maybe good for readers — but we all need to join hands and stand against the evil of the Infinity Stone. … uhh, I mean, against the market force of ‘reducing the value of books to such a state that it’s just a bubbling pot of soup that requires only a cheap ladle for scooping.’

6.) Signal boost others as much as — frankly, more than — you boost yourself. This thing we do is a thing we do alone, at first. But then we have the opportunity to be something larger than ourselves. To join with others and to become a kind of community. YOU CAN BE VOLTRON. Well, okay, maybe not Voltron. But something like Voltron. WRITETRON. COFFEETRON. BOOKOTRON. I dunno. Shut up. No, you shut up. *smacks the keyboard off your desk*

7.) Like I said yesterday: be big and be small.

8.) Be optimistic! After all — evidence shows the book universe is expanding, not contracting. I’ll still posit that this is the best time to be a writer. So many options — so, let’s keep them all in play by exercising as many of the damn things as possible, yeah?

So. With all my flim-flammery out of the way…

What’s your wishlist for 2015?

Resolutions born of the new year are always a curious breed. They’re often criticized as change-filled (but empty) promises born more of the tradition of the date rather than as something you should do daily as part of the normal growth-and-learning cycle of we hairless orangutans prancing about on this little blue green bouncy ball winging its way through space.

New Year Resolutions are perhaps like cards at Christmas: bought, filled with the rote script, placed on a mantle for a few weeks, then inevitably tossed in the bin with the other holiday trash.

It’s true, to a point. But, just the same: one year to the next, one date to another, is a mark in time. Artificial, but hey, all of human society is artificial and it’s no less significant for its invention by us. The year is a bone suddenly broken — snap. And in that sharp shock of transition, if what we get is an urge to change? So fucking be it. The ideal state would be that we change when we need to, not when the calendar suggests it, but let’s also remember that the holidays and the transition from one year to another are vital times to reflect. We build up to the orgiastic rush to Christmas, and then are left with a startling, almost shocking void — all that’s left is cleaning up the wrapping paper and throwing the Christmas Hobo on the bonfire. Ha ha ha, I didn’t say Christmas Hobo, you said Christmas Hobo. I said tree. Christmas tree.

So it is that we reach a time of the year that is indeed very good for reflection. In that reflection, it is reasonable to look back at the year behind us — littering the carpet like so much wrapping paper — and peer ahead to the year ahead. We mark time because it gives us perspective. And we make resolutions because sometimes that perspective yields the desire to be different.

Evolution does not always come on a schedule, but no reason we can’t give it a stun gun in the ass-cheek to get it moving. And so, here I am, once again considering for me — and, if you care to embrace and adopt it, for you — what changes, what evolution, what crystallization of This Thing That We Do, may come with the year 2015.

Writers and other creative folk:

This year, I want you to be big.

And, perhaps puzzlingly, I also want you to be small.

Wait, What The Fizzy Fuck Are You Talking About?

By big and small, I do not mean your physical girth or footprint — I’m not asking you to tromp about like an ogre, or fold yourself up into a paint can. What I mean is that I want you to embrace the curious polarities that often result in being a creative person. We are this very strange combination of preening Narcissist and trembling, knock-kneed fawn. Inflated senses of self, puffed up like a blimp and filled with a sucking void of lost self-esteem. I don’t want you to grab a hold of those parts, though — I don’t find much value in being a bellowing blowhard whose self-importance is so rock-hard (meaning: fragile like spun glass) that every negative review sends him into a paroxysm of pants-shitting rage. The goal here isn’t to become a monster, but rather, to find the power in those two warring aspects — to find function and truth and momentum in what it is to be both big and small.

Being Big

You have to want it, and you have to mean it.

Writing a book and putting it out in the world is an act of ego — not egomania, but the willingness and decision to create a story out of nothing and push it forward into the world is a bold, brash, unflinching act. You say: this story matters, and it matters that I wrote it. It is a demonstration of your belief in the story and the belief you possess in yourself as a writer, storyteller, and a creator. It takes a rather epic set of genitals to write something that’s 300 pages long and then say to someone: “You’re going to sit down and you’re going to read this and you are going to love it the way I love it. You are going to take hours, even days out of your life to read the little ants dancing across the page, ants that make words, words that make this one big story full of people I just — I mean, seriously, get this, I just fucking made them up. They’re not even real. None of this is real! Can you believe it? It’s phantasm and ectoplasm and fairy-spun pegasus shit. It’s all from my own weird-ass brain. I cracked this massive egg, and now I want you to eat what spilled out.”

It’s you as a wide-eyed housecat, shoving forward a half-eaten mouse carcass, its fur sticky with your spit and blood, and you say with intense stare and low mrowl: I MADE DIS. YOU HAVE IT.

How amazing! How presumptive! How… totally fucking psychotic!

That’s you being big.

You get even bigger by writing the stories you want to write. By defying convention and eschewing advice and putting to paper the tale you want to tell. Own it! We worry so much about writing original stories that we forget about the one ingredient that will make all our stories as unique as a snowflake melting into the grooves of a fingerprint: you. You, your voice, your ideas, your experiences: those are the reagents of rare and powerful alchemy — as extraordinary as phoenix feathers! powdered unicorn horn! lightsaber crystals! — that go into your writing.

Be big enough to accept that. Be big enough that your books are your own. Do not flinch. Tell fear to fuck off. Don’t run from your own voice. Be your books. Have ideas. Anybody who runs a blacklight over your books should be able to see the blood and spittle and mysterious fluid spatter you sprayed over the whole thing like a randy skunk.

Be big enough so that the books are yours. So that the books are you, in a way.

Being Small

But you must also be small.

You write this thing, this massive chunk of yourself, and then you offer it up on a silver plate — and here, you have a choice. You can say, this is my work, it is indefensible and perfect, and it is all that matters. Or you can acknowledge that you’re part of something greater. A square in a mighty quilt, a star in a celestial sky, a glint in the Christmas Hobo’s eye. (No, you said Christmas Hobo. I said… uh, something else. *smoke bomb*)

What I mean is:

Be gracious. Be humble.

This Thing That We Do is a right, in a way — but it’s also a privilege. A privilege to be a part of something greater. You’re not stepping on a new planet, here: other people have blazed the trail, tamped down the vegetation, hunted the monsters that would’ve disemboweled you in a heartbeat. Others have colonized your genre. They’re there on the shelves. You can be big enough to have your own voice and to write that voice while at the same time acknowledging that you are not alone: others have been here, are still here, and will keep on coming. Other writers who need your help. Other books that need your championing. Other voices not your own.

Be gracious to other writers. And editors, agents and other publishing professionals. Be appreciative of your readers. Be kind to booksellers and librarians and reviewers (both of whom will help you reach those readers that I just told you to appreciate). Yes, it’s a thing often said that all writers really need is an audience, and perhaps that’s true in the purest of sense — but that’s also incredibly short-sighted, like saying the only thing a Widget-Maker needs is someone to Buy The Widget. It forgets about the truck drivers, the shelf-stockers, the Widget-polishers — it neglects to remember the ecosystem. Writing and publishing is a powerful and weird ecosystem: full of wonderful people who honestly give a shit about books and stories. How amazing is that? They’re here because they love it. Because they accept the bigness of the act of tale-telling, because they respect the need for stories in their lives. Be good to them.

And be humble. You ripped a massive pound of flesh out of your own body with the certainty that it matters — but you can’t go around beating people about the head and neck with it. You’re not the only one doing this. You are indeed the special snowflake: one that forms a blizzard of so many other special snowflakes. The takeaway: you are not alone.

So don’t be alone.

Be small. Be the tiny, glittering, mad fractal snowflake.

Be beautiful on your own, but be part of the blizzard, too.

Eat Me, Drink Me

Be big enough to create a first draft, and small enough to tear that draft to pieces, to write a second draft, then a fourth, then an eleven-hundred-and-fifty-sixth if that’s what it jolly well takes.

(Translation: be big enough to be a writer, but small enough to be an editor. The writer and the first draft is the block of marble and the shape coming out of it. The editor and the resultant drafts are the chisel that chips it away. Big, to small.)

Be big enough to be proud of your work, but small enough to appreciate every reader who picks it up and every bookseller, librarian, blogger or anybody who shares your work with the world.

Be big and ask to be paid for your work, but be small and donate your time and energy and kindness to others — what we are paid, we can help pay back.

Accept that your words are important and that your story matters, but not to the extent that it drowns out the voices of others.

Acknowledge your successes while never letting them be the end-all, be-all.

Be small enough that you are willing and able to fail without letting failure destroy you.

Be big enough that that you stand tall for the things you believe in. But be small, too, so that you can be fast and flexible for when the time comes that you need to change.

Be the writer you want to be, full of power and might and confidence, but one who also is gracious and nice and part of something larger. Earlier I mentioned the stars in the sky, and perhaps there is no greater metaphor, here: each star is impossibly large, a massive shape of fire and gas and light. And yet, when seen at a distance: tiny lights across the night, like sequins cast on the floor, like holes pricked in a dark blanket with a prodding pin. Big stars, but small stars, too.

Be then like the star: both big and small at the same time.

Have a great 2015, folks.

P.S.: Art hard, motherfuckers.

HA HA HA, SUCK IT, 2014.

*flings 2014 in front of a passing subway train*

*a train piloted by 2015*

*splat*

Actually, I shouldn’t be too hard on poor 2014 — while I know many others had a hellish year, I was actually pretty fortunate. The year past was full of good stuff. I did a lot of traveling — Toronto, Vancouver, Tucson, Phoenix, Colorado Springs, and more. Did quite a lot of writing, too: Zeroes, Thunderbird (aka the next Miriam Black book), The Harvest (the third Heartland book), a YA thing (as-yet-unpublished) called Dust & Grim, and I finished up my serialized novella, The Forever Endeavor. Mucho big grande word count, there. Plus: wrote a couple new short stories — “Big Man” for the Dangerous Games anthology, and “Queen of the Supermarket” for Trouble In The Heartland (which is a Springsteen-themed anthology, not one related to my young adult Heartland series). Oh oh oh, and let’s not forget that me and Adam Christopher penned the first couple issues of The Shield reboot for Archie/Dark Circle, thus fulfilling the ancient blood pacts and allowing me to have done work in novels, games, film, television, and now comics. WITH THE GATEWAYS OPEN THE WORLD SHUDDERS LIKE A DYING, FEVER-BITTEN ANIMAL AND ALL SHALL SOON END.

Or something like that.

I wrote about 750,000 words this year, between bookish stuff and bloggy things.

This was also the year I got to share a stage with the likes of Lev Grossman, Erin Morgenstern, Neil Gaiman and Margaret Atwood to celebrate her 75th birthday in New York. (My life is super-weirdo-amazing, you guys.)

Did I have a writing shed installed? Why yes, I did:

(Haven’t moved into the shed yet — still needs furniture. This week!)

On a personal level, everything has been pretty damn great. B-Dub is growing at an alarming rate, suggesting that by the year 2016 he will be gleefully stomping cities underneath his kaiju feet. Christmas with the tot was a wonderful time — he has now graduated to the BIG KID LEGO sets, leaving his Duplo bricks in the dust. (His first sets in the larger LEGO space were, of course, Minecraft because holy shit is this kid obsessed with Minecraft.) My wonderful wife continues to be fooled by my ruse, and has not yet realized that I am a terrible human being and bearded weirdo. (And this was also the year we took our first family vacation.)

The one personal hit this year was the loss of our little taco terrier, Tai, who wrestled for months with a gastrointestinal disorder that ultimately forced our hand and so we had to put our little poochie to rest. A sad day and I still sometimes hear her little paws clicking on our floors.

One thing I know for sure? 2014 was hella busy. And 2015 will be the same.

But, let’s be honest. That’s a damn good problem to have.

The Books of 2014

Publishing-wise, I had a few books out this year — The Cormorant (Miriam Black, book #3) technically released on 12/31/13, but it didn’t really reach shelves until 2014, so fuck it, I say it’s fair to call that a 2014 book. (Releasing a book on the very ass-crack of the annual transition is not ideal, by the way. Sadly easy for your book to get lost in that fissure.)

Blightborn, the second Heartland book, came out over the summer. It’s a book I’m very fond of, honestly — and no, I don’t say that about all of my books, many are books I’d like to go back and pick at again and again like a monkey grooming its child of ticks and mites. But Blightborn is for me a complete package, and is a book I’m content to psychically let it exist as it is. (I’ll note too that Blightborn is like, two bucks at Amazon right now until the end of the year. So too is the first book, Under the Empyrean Sky.)

At the same time Blightborn released, so did a short story — “The Wind Has Teeth Tonight” — a little $0.99 endeavor that is actually set before the entire series begins, chronicling the, erm, cornpunk mutant-rat-infested meet-cute between Cael and Gwennie out in an old Empyrean corn processing facility.

Finally, I self-published a couple new writing books this year, too: 500 Ways To Write Harder, and 30 Days In The Word Mines. Thanks to all those who came along and checked those out.

Plus, I sold a lot of books this year, too — many of which will come out in 2015.

Which leads me to…

The Books of 2015

What’s coming up?

Well, that’s a darn good question, isn’t it?

January, 2015: Atlanta Burns. My YA crime noir story — Veronica Mars on Adderall, Nancy Drew with a shotgun, Winter’s Bone set in Pennsyltucky. (For those asking, this is indeed a re-edit of Shotgun Gravy and Bait Dog — it takes the two of them and turns them into one more cohesive story.)

First-quarter 2015: the re-release of the first three Miriam Black books come out with Saga, the new SFF imprint under Simon & Schuster. New covers, new polish (meaning, proper copy-edits and formatting). Blackbirds, Mockingbird, The Cormorant both come out in digital first, soon followed by print (I believe trade paperback).

July, 2015: The Harvest, the third and final Heartland novel. After the Saranyu disaster and the rise of the Empyrean Initiative, how will the Heartland recover? Is Cael alive? Will the people of the corn fight back and rise up against the Empyrean?

August, 2015: Zer0es, a hackers-versus-an-NSA-artificial-intelligence thriller. Given a lot of the hacker news that’s going on, I’m pretty excited to have this one come out. Hardcover.

Fall, 2015: Thunderbird, the fourth Miriam Black novel. Hardcover, I’m told!

Fall, 2015: [REDACTED] — nope, can’t talk about this one, yet.

Plus, I’ve got scads and buckets and buttloads of writing to do this year — stuff I’m super-excited to write and finish. I get to tackle new Miriam Black, new Atlanta Burns, a SF-thriller I’ve been geeked to write for years but never had the chance, and that little [REDACTED] thing up there I mentioned, too. Plus I might end up releasing my short story collection (Crass Menagerie) and a story-focused writing book I’ve been working on, The Penmonkey’s Guide To Giving Good Story. And I’m sure some other tricks and treats will trickle in along the way.

The Travel of 2015

Gonna be all over the map in 2015, so, let’s get to it:

4/30: Paradise Lost writing workshop in San AntionioTX.

6/27: Seton Hill University to give a talk

7/15: Camp NECon, Portsmouth, RI: writer guest of honor!

7/23: Midwest Writer’s Workshop (Muncie, IN) as faculty

7/30: GenCon, Indianapolis, IN (Writer’s Symposium; tentative)

9/12: Bethlehem, PA RWA Keynote

9/25: Context 28, Columbus, OH: writer guest of honor

[edit: Context is done, apparently — they had issues with a sexual harassment case that wisely caused the board to dissolve and a new one to form, except now the new one is being blocked and the convention is game over, goodbye, according to Steven Saus]

Probably some other stuff I’m missing there, too, and surely more will pop up.

Most Popular Posts of 2014

The blog hits were up again this year, from around 3.5 million to 4 million — which is, y’know, pretty darn happymaking for me. I’m glad as hell you people have been fooled again and again into thinking I’m saying anything at all of value, and further, it’s nice to see people coming by here and creating a kind of slapdash, impromptu writers-and-other-miscreants-style community.

I published 361 (!) posts.

Top 10 posts of those published in 2014:

1. 25 Things You Should Know About Toddlers

2. A PSA About Nude Photos

3. Not All Men, But Still Too Many Men

4. On The Subject Of Cultivating Empathy

5. Art Held Hostage: Why Sony Not Releasing “The Interview” Is Scary

6. The Cankerous Slime-Slick Shame Pit That Is GamerGate

7. Ten Things I’d Like To Say To Young Writers

8. Ten Things To Never Say To A Writer

9. In Which Amazon Calls You To Defend The Realm

10. Boy Toys, Girl Toys And Other Cuckoopants Gender Assumptions

What’s interesting is that only two of the posts above are writing-related, and only one is publishing-related. Many are all social issuey stuff. Optimistically, maybe people actually give a shit about my opinions or, at the least, believe I’m not a total boner when it comes to talking about larger issues. More pessimistically, some have suggested 2014 was the year of outrage, and maybe blogging about hotter-button issues just gets clicks. (I occasionally get emails from people who suggest I write those posts because they get me advertising clicks. Apparently they don’t realize I don’t have advertising on the site, so the clicks are in no way monetized.)

That being said, some of the actual top ten posts weren’t from 2014 — a post from 2011, 25 Ways To Plot, Plan & Prep Your Story saw a huge resurgence in views this year (~61,000!?) out of nowhere. Other big bumps to posts about aspiring writers, writing horror, writing YA fiction, and on writing your first chapter.

And That’s That — How About You?

Thanks for coming by here and reading the blog and (hopefully) scouting my books, too. Writers aren’t jack shit without their readers, and, in fact, writers aren’t jack shit without other writers, either. So: I am made better by all of you. Except you, over there, in the corner. You’re bringing us all down. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. *gives you the side-eye*

Ahem. So!

How’d 2014 go for you?

What’s coming up for 2015?

The two winners, as chosen by YOUR VOTES, are:

#14 and #26!

and

#14 (Chris V.) and #26 (Erin): email me at terribleminds at gmail!

Plus, we have two random draw winners…

So, #18 and #3 are the random draw winners!

Mandy and Anthony, please hit me up at terribleminds at gmail!

Congratulations, nerdlingers. You guys brought it.

*rains geek particles down upon you*

*it’s really just glitter*

*sorry*

And, I’m out.

For this week, at least, I’m taking off — I just posted the holiday confectionary share-around post, so you should feel free to jump on into those yummy waters. But otherwise, for this week, terribleminds is gonna go and get good and sick on egg nog and rib roast and pass out under the Christmas tree, nude but for a draping of tinsel and strategically-placed blinky lights. And by “terribleminds,” I mean me. Because terribleminds is not a person. I don’t even know why I said that. This blog hasn’t become animated. It isn’t alive. Not yet. Not until I can properly summon the lightning demons.

Anyway.

(Yes, I’ll still be dealing with the Nerdtivity votes this week, no worries.)

Go forth, and Happy Whatever-The-Hell-You-Celebrate. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Solstice, an Agnostic Shrug-Fest, some kind of Godless Atheist Orgy. (I really need to get an invite to the Godless Atheist Orgy next year. Uh-huh, sure, sure, my “invitation keeps getting lost in the mail.” Sure, yeah, fine, I’ll renounce all gods, okay? Yes, yes, even Artemis.)

I occasionally get folks who email me and say, I want to get you something for the holidays, which is of course super-sweet unless it’s a mail-bomb of Hep-C, but I guess even then it’s the thought that counts? And seriously, it’s very nice the folks who say that, and to them I say only that: if you want to get me something, then maybe buy one of my books. Or leave a review! We authors love reviews. The very existence of this site is because of you kind people doing both of those things, and so, either of those would make me holly jolly as all-get-out.

I mean, either that, or buy me a jetboat.

Book, review, jetboat. In that order. Except put the jetboat first. Because I need something to drive to the Godless Atheist Orgy next year, and I’m pretty sure a jetboat is a way to arrive in style.

Thanks for reading the blog. Thanks for checking out my books.

I’ll see you next week to close out the year with various thoughts that will allow us to throw 2014 on the funeral pyre and watch the firebird of 2015 rise from its charred carcass-ash.

Merry Whatever, Good People of the Internet!

*throws an elf up in the air*

Pull!

*detonates elf with shotgun blast*

WE HAVE SUCH SIGHTS TO SHOW YOU.

Ahem. Okay, sorry.

It’s that time again to share recipes of sweet treats that one might make during the holidays. Or before them. Or after them. Or any time of the year ever. This means cookies, pies, cakes, etc.

All you gotta do is drop a recipe or a link to a recipe in the comments below. What cookies do you make for the holidays to mesmerize house guests and lure them into your holly jolly murder pit? What pies will besiege your mouth and the mouths of your friends with their heretical pie-magic? WHAT SUGARY ARTIFICE DO YOU CONJURE TO BEWILDER PASSERSBY SO THAT YOU MAY HARVEST THEIR BONES FOR PEPPERMINT STICKS?

That maybe got a little intense.

Mea culpa.

Point is:

You. Recipe. Sweet thangs. Comment section.

Now, here’s what I’m sharing:

This recipe is listed as the BEST CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE RECIPE EVER.

And it pretty much is.

I’ve been searching for the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe for years — and kinda never found one. Good ones, sure, because it’s hard to make a bad chocolate chip cookie. But a perfect one? Made at home?

Yeah, that one counts. Made them last year. Made them again this year.

(Bonus: I’ve a relative who notes that you can take the vanilla extract out of the equation and sub in a little thing called motherfucking bourbon and the cookies become basically divine. Which tells me that any recipe that calls for vanilla extract might be all the more delicious if you stick bourbon in it, instead. Or maybe just drink bourbon and skip the cookies. Whatever.)

Only things I’ll add regarding that recipe:

Do weigh the flour.

Use good chocolate.

Use good brown sugar — in fact, sub in a 1/2 cup of muscovado brown sugar as part of the brown sugar content of the recipe. (Good muscovado smells really lovely — heady molasses scent.)

Do not eat all the cookies the moment they exit the oven.

That last one, I speak from experience.

*urp*

Now, share your recipes or I’ll pull this lever.

*eyes lever*

*eyes trapdoor under your feet*

*eyes lever again*