That title suffers a bit from multiple personalities, doesn’t it?

I know some people are on the fence about whether or not to do NaNoWriMo, and that’s a bad place to be because sitting on a fence is very unhealthy for you. Guaranteed hemorrhoids is all I’m saying. And then you have to go to the doctor and explain that. “Why the hemmorhoids?” the doctor asks, shrugging. “Sitting on a fence again,” you say. And then he chides you for your indecision and then has to shoot your butthole with a laser —

Okay, that’s probably not how they get rid of hemorrhoids but it’d be cool if they did. I mean, c’mon. Lasers should be involved in more things, not less. Except maybe buttholes? Hm.

You know what? I’m driving way off the road here, so let’s get back onto the asphalt.

Here, I will give unto thee reasons to partake in National Novel Writing Month…

…and reasons to avoid it like a hot cup of gonorrhea.

Ready? We begin.

Why You Should Partake

• It will teach you discipline and diligence.

• Writing every day will teach you a lot about writing, good and bad.

• Writing every day will teach you a lot about your own writing habits, good and bad.

• It’s goal-oriented. Writers live by deadlines.

• It’s geared explicitly toward finishing your shit, and finishing your shit is about the only single piece of writing advice you can really, genuinely count on to be true.

• It’s also community-driven — writing is quite explicitly an individual and often lonely endeavor, but this has the spirit of a creative word orgy. You come into the room, put your keys in the basket, lube up the ol’ story-makers, and start writing like a motherfucker. Community in this regard is a good way to feel less alone. It gives you shoulders to cry on, minds to bounce ideas off of, and ink-stained hands to high-five. It’s the closest you’re gonna get to a bunch of writers just humping the sweet hell out of each other, unless you’ve spent any time at Harlan Ellison’s love ranch.

• I don’t know that Harlan Ellison has a love ranch, I’m just making that up. I’m clarifying this because Harlan seems like the kind of guy who would hunt me for my pelt if I angered him.

• But, I am saying that if anybody has a love ranch, I could believe Harlan Ellison has one.

• That or just a room where he sometimes goes to yell at cats. About how they’ve failed him.

• I think I need a love ranch.

• Okay, getting back on track now in 3, 2, 1 —

• Modern writing careers — successful ones, anyway — are increasingly predicated on producing a lot of content quickly, and, well, this is a good way to practice exactly that.

• It will help you take your Internal Editor and drown him in a mud puddle. Writers have to, have to, have to grow comfortable with writing shittily. Shit happens. Shit also washes off. Put differently, it is sometimes necessary to write badly so that you can edit and rewrite and turn bad writing into good story.

• This is a very good way to sprint through and create a zero draft.

• Treating it like a month-long writing exercise instead of The Future Of Your Writing Career lends this a strong mindset that creates bonafide self-instructional value.

• Gamification works wonders for some people in terms of motivating action.

• Being a writer is about writing. Full-stop. Partaking makes you a writer. End of story.

• Time isn’t going to wait for you and you’re going to die someday so, fuck it. Write now. Not later. You might be dead in December. Maybe the world will blow up. But that story inside you? It’s ready now. So, fire up the ol’ wordithopter and fly yourself to the distant land of Bookopolis.

Why You Should Run Far Away

• Actually, maybe that story inside you isn’t ready now. Maybe those brownies aren’t done baking yet and if you try to rush it all you’re gonna get is a goopy pan of chocolate slurry. Which, admittedly, also sounds delicious, so if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m going to go slather choco-goop all over my body.

• Back now. I am delicious. Mm. *licks self*

• A month is not a lot of time to write a book and most people take longer than that to write one. Let’s be honest, it’s setting a fairly unrealistic pace to complete a book. I write fast like a squirrel with a Roman candle shoved up its fuzzy nethers, and even I can’t finish most books in 30 days.

• The win/lose condition through gamification can be toxic — to speak frankly, writers often have issues with depression or anxiety, and this really doesn’t help. (I speak from experience on the latter. For some reason, NaNoWriMo amped up my anxiety rather than dampened it. No idea why. I don’t get that way with deadlines, but this made me feel really agitated when I tried it years ago.)

• You have a pace, and maybe this isn’t it. A story takes the time that it takes. Maybe you write it in two weeks. Maybe it takes you two months or two years. There exists no “one schedule fits all.” Acting like that is a good way to feel like a giant fail-flavored crapsicle.

• Further, for some, writing every day is a boon. For others, a bane. Again, trying to conform HOW YOU WRITE to this one pattern can be like trying to headbutt a square peg through a circle hole. All you end up with is a throbbing headache and a feeling of shame and worthlessness.

• Sometimes doing something different from what everyone else is doing is clarifying and valuable. Writers are not particularly good at following orders, I find. In fact, every writer is basically ten ferrets. You can’t control one ferret, much less ten. Ferrets will not be commanded. FERRETS CARE LITTLE FOR YOUR NATIONAL FERRET WRANGLING MONTH (NaFerWraMo).

• Put differently, this month is very much about comparing yourself to other writers, and engaging in uniformity. And comparing yourself to other writers and trying to conform to their habits and their schedules is a very good way to feel very bad.

• November is a dogshit month to accomplish, well, basically anything. At least for me. Forget it, Jake, it’s Holidaytown. The way the holidays are around these parts, the festivity shit-parade kicks up around Halloween and doesn’t stop stomping down the road until January at the earliest. Plus, right at the end there you get Thanksgiving — so, instead of 30 days, you kinda have like, 20-25. And then if you have kids they usually end up with a whole week off, and if you’ve eaten too much turkey and potatoes you probably lose a day on a recliner — bloated and serene.

• Fifty thousand words does not a novel make. I mean, by most expected metrics.

• Sometimes writing crap is good. Sometimes writing crap is sad-making. And this isn’t just writing crap — it’s extruding crap quickly. Speed is the essence. The finish line is king. At the end if what you have is just a handful of wet shit, how will that make you feel?

• NaNoWriMo focuses overmuch on writing, but here’s the dirty truth — writing is a crass, mechanical act. It is a necessary part of the process, but it’s just pure craft — it is fingers going pok pok pok tap tap tap on the keyboard until a giant block of prose is regurgitated. But if fails to focus on story. Story is why we write. Prose is secondary and supportive. Story, character, theme, all that stuff isn’t background. It’s great and it’s glorious and it’s why we come to the page, most times. (Sure, some folks come only for writing, but I think most people come for the narrative and the ideas presented by that narrative.) Story only exists in permanence when we transcribe it, and writing is one crucial method of transcription — but make no mistake, that’s all it is. Transcription. By focusing so much on that, something threatens to be lost.

Reminder: 30 Days In The Word Mines (And The Gonzo Bundle)

Last year I wrote and put out a book called 30 Days In The Word Mines — and the goal of that book is literally to take you through thirty days and, every day, give you a little something to think about. It’s motivational, philosophical, and practical advice all in one, and every day is different. Some folks told me that it fared them well day to day through NaNoWriMo and beyond, so that’s cool. If you wanna check it out, you can find it at Amazon, B&N, or buy it direct from me here.

Alternatively, if you want it as part of a larger bundle of writing-related e-bookery, then the eight book gonzo bundle is $20 — or $15 if you use coupon code NAPLOYONOMO by 10/31.

Max Gladstone is basically the smartest guy in any room. He may in fact not be human at all, but a benevolent alien to make us all better people. Just last week he riffed off of the new Star Wars trailer in a post tackling the myth of the Jedi –“Galactic History, or Galactic Folk Tale?” And this week here he is to talk about game design and, in particular, Deathless: The City’s Thirst.

* * *

“Play your old stuff!”

My friend Chris once called those the most vicious words in rock & roll. An artist stands pinned by spotlight, trying something new, and the audience cries back: no, thanks, do what you did last time!

Cue blood sacrifice of goats in hotel rooms, instruments smashed on stage, various substances injected into various veins, et cetera.

The worst part is, both audience and artist are right. The audience wants something they recognize; they want to connect with the selves they were in middle school when they first heard (insert That Song From Middle School here—you know, the piece that made you sit up and think, “They really get me!” Might be “One Headlight,” or “Sing,” or the Brandenburg Concerto). The audience wants to reclaim that first taste of forever. And there’s nothing wrong with that! The artist scorns the audience’s desire at her peril.

But the artist knows, too: nostalgia only goes so far. And while the audience is hungry to recover that moment the walls fell down, they also want the walls to fall down again—they want to feel the way they felt when they first heard that bass line—when those words crawled across the screen—when they warped into Myst.

The problem is, no one knows how to ask for that, because anything we know to ask for isn’t new, by definition.

So, where does that leave us?

And how does all this relate to skeleton lawyers, undead gods, and giant scorpions?

Good question.

Two years ago, I released Choice of the Deathless, an interactive necromantic legal thriller set in the world of my Craft Sequence books. Players take the role of a junior associate at a demonic law firm—that is to say, it’s a firm specializing in demonic transactions, not a law firm of demons, though there’s overlap—and try to pay off their student loans, make partner, find love, and survive to payday. I had a great time working on the game, it sold well, got nominated for a couple awards, and the publisher came back: we’d love a sequel!

You see my problem.

I couldn’t write the same game again. People who want to replay the last game can always do so—since the game’s text-based, it’s not even as if technology’s progressed in the meantime. The imagination’s as high-res as ever. A proper sequel also wouldn’t work. Players can end the first game dead or alive, working for the firm or not, in love or out, having made drastically different impacts on the game world. Crushing all those options down to a sequel hook seemed one step away from saying the player’s choices in the first game didn’t matter.

So I wanted a game that worked like the first one, but differently. Which meant asking, what was the first game doing, anyway?

This is an uncomfortable question. My first instinct is always to answer with a joke—to disarm, or failing that to run away.

“What is this game doing?” “Look! The Badyear blimp!”

“Why did you write $Most_Recent_Project?” *punches interlocutor in face* *adopts fake Russian accent* “VE ASK ZE QVESTIONS HERE, KOMRAD.”

“Really, I just want to—“ *Dons James Bond jetpack* *Rockets through skylight* “I’m sho sorry, but it sheems I have to jet.”

But since I was the one asking, I had to come up with an answer eventually.

Choice of the Deathless wrapped its setting around a question. The modern fantasy world I built, with skyscrapers and student loans and demons and necromancy, is complicated and morally ambiguous. In that kind of a situation, do you help others, or put yourself first? How much does power matter to you? Is the power you get by collaborating with monsters really power at all?

Writing these questions out, I realized they were internally focused. I kept asking the player: who are you? (Or: who’s your character?) How would you respond?

So, to explore the same setting from a different angle, I could flip the question. The first game was inwardly directed, so the second should revolve around the character’s goals and methods. Rather than “who are you,” I’d ask: “what are you doing?” How will change the world? What problems will you fix? What methods will you use? What’s worth the price you’ll pay?

And with that, I had the core of Deathless: The City’s Thirst — a world of dead gods and the wizards who killed them. The player controls a survivor of the God Wars, working for a necromantic water utility, trying to get enough water for a desert city that’s successfully rebelled against its bloodthirsty rain god. What will you do to save your city? What compromises will you make?

Whose side are you on?

From that seed, and months of crunch time, I grew a game. It’s out this week—we’ll see what people think!

There are other ways to do the same thing differently. You can keep the theme and change the trappings; you can keep theme and trappings but change structure to subvert or bolster either. Flip. Spin. Tell the story from the inside out. Change the angle. Add plot, or subtract it. Ask an old character new questions. (I love how Lois McMaster Bujold does this; every few books she throws Miles Vorkosigan an enormous curveball. Poor guy barely figures out the answer to one question before another smacks him in the face.)

But even so, at the end of the day some folk will just want to hear your old stuff.

You know what? That’s okay. You wouldn’t have played your old stuff if it wasn’t worth playing.

But this game, this story, will connect with some people in a way the last one didn’t. And when you next sit down to write, the new stuff will be old stuff—and people will want to hear that again, too.

On the one hand: great. You’ve grown your thematic range. You’re doing more work, better.

On the other hand… No pressure.

IT IS ALMOST TIME.

The time when we open the gates and human and novel run through the city streets, goring the unsuspecting while crushing the cobblestone beneath their stampeding hooves and feet —

Or, uh, something like that.

It’s NaNoWriMo — or one week from it.

National Novel Writing Month, for the uninitiated.

So, my question is:

Who has done it before?

How’d it go? What are your thoughts about it?

And then:

Who’s doing it this year? What are you planning to write?

ANSWER IF YOU DARE.

*thunder of hooves*

The saying goes that there is more below the streets of New York City

than there is above them. An exaggeration by those who say it, perhaps,

but they don’t know just how accurate that statement truly is.

Hell’s heart, as it turns out, has many chambers.

—

From the Journals of John Atticus Oakes,

Cartographer of the Great Below

Mookie Pearl is back.

He’s the one-man army separating the criminal underworld from the very real, very monstrous underworld existing beneath the streets of Manhattan. In the first book, his daughter Nora rises against him to carve out her own little piece of territory shared across both underworlds. And in book two, Nora is trapped in Hell and needs Mookie’s help to escape — unless she can cut her own deal with Mookie’s enemies to allow her egress.

Features: gobbos, half-n-halfs, snakefaces, god-worms, occult drugs, sandhogs, reaper-cloaks, the skinless, mobsters, ghosts, zombies, punching, explosions, charcuterie, family drama.

You have a couple ways to get these two books.

First is, well, free.

I’m offering up the books in PDF format for free.

No, really. You can get them here:

Blue Blazes PDF, Free.

Hellsblood Bride PDF, Also Free.

Enjoy. My gift to you.

Listen, to speak frankly — these books are what they are, warts and all. I’m happy with them, and I love Mookie as a character, and I’m pleased to just offer them up just so people can read them.

If you want ’em in an alternate format, or you’d like to actually toss some coin my way… go below, and you’ll find what you need. You can buy them direct from me via Payhip, or you can snag ’em from Amazon. I may get them up over at B&N and iBooks and the like, but really, my sales there have been so marginal I’m hesitant to even put in the effort.

The Blue Blazes

(Buying direct from Payhip gets you MOBI, ePub, PDF, Html: direct link.)

Or, check out from Amazon.

The Hellsblood Bride

(Buying direct from Payhip gets you MOBI, ePub, PDF, Html: direct link.)

Or, check out from Amazon.

Will There Be A Third Book?

The third book would be titled A Sky Born Black, if it were ever to exist, I think. Or maybe The Skyborn Bane. (Other titles might come up.) But all that presumes a third book is even in the offing — at this point, without a publisher? I dunno. Maybe. If the book does well published on my own, I’d definitely do one up — but at present, it remains to be seen. (Note, however, the two books are complete — a third book is not a necessity to conclude the series. The second book has a very concrete ending — an ending that a third book would exploit and explore.)

Hey, some holy crap news.

So, like, I’m maybe kinda sorta writing a comic for Marvel.

Hyperion. Coming soon. Art in the book the astonishing Nik Virella. That sexy bad-asscover art above is by Emanuela Lupacchino.

The announcement is here at CBR, along with some other new Marvel titles (holy crap Becky Cloonan on Punisher is a coup and a delight).

And you can check out an interview with me at Newsarama to learn more about the book.

Needless to say, I am geeked to the max (that’s right, I’m bringing “to the max” back into the parlance, folks) to be a part of this — Marvel is doing some really amazing stuff right now and it’s a pleasure to be allowed to play in their sandbox. I’m excited by the collaboration here and — well, more soon! *flies away, cape fluttering, gets sucked into jet engine, dies*

Kevin Hearne is doing a rad tour for his newest, Staked. And as such, he hears a lot of the questions writers get when it comes time to tour in support of any new book, and so it seemed like a good idea to cross-post his FAQ here (with his permission). Behold: the Tacopope’s Decree! 

By the way, go pre-order Staked now: Indiebound, Amazon, B&N.

Q: Why don’t you come to my town? We have tacos and beer.

An excellent, fair, and frequently asked question that I often don’t have the time or ability to answer in social media! Going to take the time now and refer to this post as needed, because there’s a lot to it and this is a question many authors get asked.

First: It is not because I don’t love you or tacos or beer. People come at me sometimes with “Why don’t you love the place I live?” as if that’s my only criteria for choosing tour stops. The very short answer—the answer to so many things, alas—is math.  Mostly the fact that I can only visit ten or fewer places and there are many more places than that out there. Math says I’m most likely not going to visit your town, or even your state. But it’s never because I don’t want to, so please don’t be upset with me. Be upset with math. I’m gonna explain further below because I get the feeling most folks don’t understand how the tour ecology works. (I didn’t understand until I started doing tours so don’t feel bad, this is not common knowledge!)

Stuff authors & publicists look at when arranging tours (not a comprehensive list but these are the biggies):

1. Population density. The cold, hard fact of the business is that a hell of a lot of people on the earth do not read for pleasure. And the ones that do in any given city might not read urban fantasy or whatever an author’s genre happens to be. So we have to go where the largest pools of potential readers are living and hope there are enough of ours there who first actually hear about us coming and second care enough to come see us. All of which usually means authors visit the really big cities and their sprawling metropolitan areas.

a. Getting the word out about appearances is surprisingly difficult. I can’t tell you how often I go somewhere with full social media and website blitz and even publisher help, then announce the next day I will be in town X, and someone from the city I was just in says “Come to my city!” And I’m like aww…dude. I did everything I could to publicize my appearance in your city and yet the appearance you heard about was some other one…? It’s baffling and frustrating for both authors and readers, believe me. Which leads me to the next bit and the importance of community outreach.

2. A thriving independent bookstore that welcomes events. This is, quite frankly, a majorconsideration. Hold on, lots of points and examples ahead.

a. For stores like The Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale and Powell’s in Portland (and many others!) holding events is a vital part of their business plan. It brings readers into their store that might not otherwise stroll in. It helps them keep the lights on. It makes their store a center of culture in their city.

b. The Poisoned Pen (and others on the ball) have a customer email/postcard list to which people voluntarily subscribe. I subscribe to theirs and every month I get a list of the author events scheduled at the store. They hold 250+ events a year! And when I know about those events I try to get there so I can satisfy my inner fanboy. Which means The Poisoned Pen is very good for authors and readers, and almost every major mystery book that gets released in the US also means an author appearance at their store. But they do other genre stuff too: Diana Gabaldon works with them. So do I. Jim Butcher stops there, and so do other genre authors. And the publicists in New York know that The Poisoned Pen does a great job with events so they schedule tours to go through Phoenix/Scottsdale. The other big indie that’s great at events in the Phoenix area is Changing Hands (and they also have an email list). Which means that if you’re an author ready to do a big tour, Phoenix will probably be a stop because 1) It’s the sixth largest metro area in the US, so it’s got the population density thing nailed, and 2) there are two excellent indie stores there that regularly hold events and have a great relationship with the reading community. But stores like that just can’t be found everywhere. If you would like one to be near you, then it is in fact up to you.

c. Visit your indie store instead of ordering online. Keep your local business in business! Subscribe to their email list so that you know who’s coming and when. Attend their events. Start a book club at the store or join one! Bring your friends and have them subscribe to the list too. Community outreach is just huge because as I mentioned above, authors’ and publishers’ attempts to publicize an appearance often don’t reach readers who’d like to know about it. And when authors have events at your store and do well, then word will filter through to other authors and their publicists. I’m going to be visiting an indie store that’s in a midsize city for the Staked tour—Malaprop’s Bookstore in Asheville, NC—because I keep hearing what a great store it is and how dialed in it is to the reading community. Plus it’s well located regionally so people from several other cities can get there if they wanna. Charlotte, Knoxville, Spartanburg or Greenville SC—all within reasonable distance. Good indie store + access to large population = author visits. Math.

d. Cities that let their indie stores close? Well, it’s not the end forever, but it definitely puts a damper on authors showing up. Two examples to illustrate the principle: 1) Dallas/Ft Worth. You had an AMAZING store called A Real Bookstore that served BEER inside. I did a thing there once with Jaye Wells and it was simply awesome. I loved it! Wanted to go back forever! But by the time my next book came out, it had closed! I wept. So there was no Dallas tour stop for that book, and I doubt I’ll be back unless a new indie store sprouts up (they really are that important in deciding where to go). I am visiting Austin and Houston instead on the Staked tour because they have Book People and Murder By the Book, respectively, which both hold lots of events and bring in lots of readers. Seriously, Austin and Houston: You have two of the best indie bookstores in the US there.  Give ’em lots of love and don’t let ’em die. 2) Nashville is an example of how communities can turn it around. They had all their indie stores die out for a while, and then author Ann Patchett couldn’t stand the tragedy of it and opened Parnassus Books. People love it there. Nashville got its second chance and embraced it, so Nashville gets plenty of author visits now. I was there for the Tricked tour. It’s an object lesson how you can make your city a place that authors visit. Ann didn’t do it by herself. The people of Nashville did it! Readers supported Parnassus instead of online giants. Then they demanded to see authors and authors supplied that demand.

(Entrance to the Powell’s Books store at Cedar Hills Crossing (Beaverton, OR) from inside the mall. Photo by Steve Morgan.)

3. Some cities—in part because of the great indie stores, I think—have thriving reader cultures, and I often wonder if we appreciate just how important such stores are to the community. I’m going to single out Portland here as an example. Powell’s City of Books downtown is a simply stunning place to visit. But their stores in Beaverton and elsewhere are truly great also. Thanks to Powell’s, the Portland metro area enjoys regular visits from the world’s authors, fiction and nonfiction, giving residents of that city access to creative and inspirational minds almost every single day. And that’s why I think their city is such a trip, constantly innovating and re-inventing itself. It’s because there’s a freaking awesome bookstore there and people read voraciously and treasure ideas and creativity. They show up for authors so authors keep showing up in Portland.

f. I have had three very kind & vocal people repeatedly ask me to come to Las Vegas. It’s turbo sweet but here’s the thing: Las Vegas actively—even aggressively—promotes itself as the place to do anything but read. That doesn’t mean nobody reads there—obviously many do, and I appreciate hearing from the three people who would really like me to visit! However, I am simply unaware of an indie store in the area. I know I could search for one online—that’s not the point. The point is that as an author who speaks with other authors regularly and discusses tours and great bookstores in the United States, I’ve never heard of anyone having an event in Las Vegas. Ever. At least not so far. Maybe even author events that happen in Vegas stay in Vegas? I don’t know. But that leads me (perhaps erroneously, I admit!) to conclude that they don’t have an indie store there that regularly holds events.

g. Related to that last point, I’ve had many people from Kansas City and Pittsburgh show up on my FB or Twitter feeds and ask me to visit. Thank you! That matters! It helps! I love you! It has me thinking about visiting both places. But please speak up at your indie bookstores too. Or your libraries. They will, in turn, talk to my publicist in NY. Know why I started going to Houston and then kept going back? Murder By the Book contacted my publisher and asked for me. They said they wanted me there and I’d have a great event because they knew their readers. And holy shit, they were right! I had a hundred people show up with barbecue! I have such a good time every time I visit that I can’t leave Houston out of my tours now. But again, it’s not just the store doing it—Houston’s doing it! Murder By the Book got me there but the readers also showed up.  So if you’d like me (or any author!) to come to your town, definitely let the authors know but also be vocal and present at your indie store!

h. I’ve done a bit of looking into the Pittsburgh thing especially because I hear from readers there so often. And the indie store situation there is unclear. Right now I’m hearing through the grapevine there’s a new owner at Mystery Booksellers and maybe they’d be cool with events? (Mystery shops often host sf/f writers, like The Poisoned Pen and Murder by the Book do.) If that’s the case…well, I’d like to know if that’s the case. O Good and Brilliant Peeps of Pittsburgh (and everyone who doesn’t get to see the authors they want): This is a fixable thing. You’ve made it very clear to me through the provenance of social media that you have a lot of awesome, enthusiastic readers. But right now, at least from my admittedly non-local perspective, it appears that your city doesn’t have a clear go-to for author events.  Where’s the place to go? In Portland it’s Powell’s. In San Diego it’s Mysterious Galaxy. In Lexington, Kentucky, it’s Joseph-Beth Booksellers. In Nashville it’s Parnassus. In Denver it’s Tattered Cover. Where’s the iconic indie in Pittsburgh? I’m using you as an example but understand that there are many, many cities in the same boat. Authors would love to visit their readers everywhere but we really need a place to go where we’re fairly certain people will show up. Because of number 3.

3. Travel expenses. Tours are damn pricy and for the vast majority of authors not a money-maker. In fact this is why most authors do not tour at all or only do events near their hometowns. (And also why we rarely do international visits. The markets are smaller and it’s hugely expensive to travel out of the country, which makes the math tougher.) Let’s say I’m promoting a paperback like I did for my first six books. I get sixty-four cents per copy (that’s fairly standard these days). If I sell a hundred copies at an event (which is a lot!) I’ve made $64. Can I get airfare plus a hotel, rental car or taxi, and meals for under $64 anywhere? Hell no, not even close. There’s no way I can break even on a tour, forget about making a profit. And if you’re thinking the publisher is paying for my tour, well, yeah. They are now. But they didn’t when I first started out. I paid for everything myself for the first four books, and please understand that almost all authors do. Del Rey picked up a hotel room for book five’s tour and paid for a few more nights for book six but it was still mostly my dime. Only when I got to hardcover with book seven did I get a full publisher-sponsored tour, which I still can’t believe really happened.  Point is, aside from a very few gigantic names, authors don’t go on tours to make fat stacks of cash. We lose money on it but we do it because we have heard of sunlight and how we should get some and we also hope that those appearances will pay off down the road in word-of-mouth. So if we tour at all, we naturally try to arrange for events that don’t make us cry and feel like we’ve wasted our time and money. Because nothing blows chunks so much as traveling somewhere, spending cash you don’t really have on the trip, and then three people show up. (Yes, that’s happened to me. And it happens to lots of authors.) And something I genuinely fear more than my own embarrassment if nobody shows up: I don’t want the bookstores to feel like they’ve wasted their time and money either. (It does cost them time and money to set up an event!) So again, it goes back to big cities and stores with good reputations for community outreach and holding great events. We want to maximize the chances that everyone leaves happy.

4. I might have been to your city in the recent past or will be there soon. There are a few places I try to visit every tour now (Phoenix, Houston, Portland, and Denver) but otherwise I try to mix it up. Atlanta’s a pretty big city but I’m not stopping there this tour because I’ve been in Georgia twice already the past year. Chicago’s huge but I’ve been there a couple of times so I’m going to Michigan since I haven’t visited them at all yet. And I like visiting Seattle on tour but since I’m going to be at Emerald City Comic Con in April it seems silly to also stop there in February. Basically the Stakedtour is six cities I’ve visited before (Phoenix, Houston, Minneapolis, Portland, Ft. Collins, Denver) and five cities that are new to me (Austin, Orlando, Asheville, Crestview Hills KY, Lansing).

So I hope this helps explain why I (and authors in general) wind up going to some places and not others. I’d love to see all my readers. Math says I can’t. And in many cases there are cities I’d like to visit (like KC and Pittsburgh) but I haven’t yet heard through the author grapevine that there is a great place to do events in those towns. That can change! It takes work. It doesn’t happen overnight. But where you shop makes a difference in what’s available in your area. (The closing of many independent bookstores plus Borders and a slew of B&N stores is proof of that.) If you value cheap books or simply enjoy the ebook or audiobook format for any number of very good reasons, or if you live in a rural area with few bookstores, then yes, online is definitely the way to go. If you value meeting authors and asking them questions and such, supporting your local indie or library and asking them to book events is the answer.

Anyway: I love you all regardless of where you live or in what format you enjoy your books. I try to visit a few new places every tour, so I hope I’ll get to your town someday, or at least to a city somewhere nearish that you won’t mind making the trip to say hi. And if I can’t make it near where you are, remember — it’s never anything personal, it’s math!

Peace, tacos, & beer—

Kevin