Apple-Obsessed Author Fella

Blackbirds: In Which I Beg, Plead, Wheedle, Cajole

My little book-baby, Blackbirds, is born tomorrow.

And I’m traveling — so, while I’m doing some pimping on the ground, I don’t know how much online pimpage I’ll be doing. And so I look to you fine feathered humans. And sentient spam-bots.

I am not above begging you people to do a little pimpage for me.

If you would be kind on the morrow to spread the word about the book? I would offer you endless gratitude. And a cupcake or a shot of something liquor-based if ever we meet. And a ride on a unicorn. Okay, there’s no unicorn, there’s just me in a white sheet with a cardboard paper towel tube duct-taped to my head, but as is said in the novel: “It is what it is.”

The book features everything you could ever want. Death! Sex! Profanity! Blood! Nightmares! Love triangle! Snark! Doom! Fate! Free will! Violence! Psychic powers! So much fun! Eeeeee!


Please tell a friend. Or many friends. Or a parent, child, stuffed bear, or imaginary foe.

My secret hope is that the book rockets up the charts like a mercury bullet popping out the top of a glass thermometer, but that’s not in my hands. I just hope you’ll help me spread the word is all.

And, in case my earnest plea is doing nothing for you…

First, it was my birthday yesterday. So. Y’know. *nudge nudge*

Second, I have a tiny human who needs food and clothing. I mean, jeez, just look at the poor kid:

Third, and finally, if you don’t buy the book and spread the word, I’ll weaponize herpes and give it to all of you. And I’ll use an enormous flock of blackbirds to deliver the disease. Because I’m a showman.

So, to review:

a) Earnest plea.

b) Birthday wishes!

c) Sad baby falling down.


Thanks for helping spread the word.

BLACKBIRDS. April 24th.