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Douglas Wynne: The Terribleminds Interview

A little while back a gent named wrote me and asked me to read his novel for purposes of potential blurbage. I was very clear with him as I am with those who ask that question that I am bogged down in the mud of my own my work and it’s not likely I’ll get around to it but send it anyway, blah blah blah. He sent me a copy. I read the first page. Then, next thing I knew, I was 30 pages deep. That book was The Devil of Echo Lake, and that gent was Douglas Wynne. Here he is. Find him at his site here, or on the Twitters @Doug_Wynne.

This is a blog about writing and storytelling. So, tell us a story. As short or long as you care to make it. As true or false as you see it.

I’ll give you a sequel to the story Margaret Atwood answered this question with when you interviewed her recently, but I’m picking it up a few hundred million years later…

Once upon a time there were tribes of monkeys who hurled their own excrement at each other to declare territory.  Sometimes, when the shit slinging failed to make the point, they would even stain the ground with each other’s blood to mark territory. After many millennia of this sort of thing, one of these tribes acquired the magic of language—probably by eating strange mushrooms that blasted open new parts of their brains—and they started using words, symbols, and excretions of ink to declare their territory.  We’ll call this tribe, The Pen Monkeys.

Then, one day, under great pressure, the Pen Monkeys did something truly amazing; they used their pens to scratch out equations that enabled them to build a rocket ship. Within this gleaming phallic shaft, they at last escaped the gravity of their bloody little planet and ventured out beyond the finite resources they had always squabbled over.  These brave, bold monkeys soared to the moon, a luminous orb that their ancestors had mistaken for a god.  And upon landing, they planted a flag to declare it their territory.

Why do you tell stories?

I probably have a narcissistic drive to defy death and leave a mark declaring my psychic territory.

I tell stories because I love chasing an idea down the rabbit hole and seeing where it goes, and I also just seem to be built to play with words, to try and sculpt ideas with them. I suck at math, but words and me get along well. Most days.

Give the audience one piece of writing or storytelling advice:

Don’t wait and don’t stop.  Okay, that’s two.  It’s two-for-one day.

Don’t wait for the perfect idea, don’t wait until you’re sure of how to tell it, don’t wait until you know how it ends, don’t wait until you’re a better writer to start telling the story you want to tell.

Work will inspire ideas.  Work will find a way forward, and work will make you a better storyteller and a better writer. Waiting won’t.

And then, when no one wants what you’re selling, remember that you are the only one who can stop you.  Keep working on something new while you keep polishing and pitching something you believe in. Don’t stop, and don’t wait.

What’s the worst piece of writing/storytelling advice you’ve ever received?

Probably the idea, so popular today, that you should leave out or cut everything that isn’t totally essential to the fast forward motion of your plot.  Great stories, even very short ones, are enriched by some of the same details and sidetracks as real life. The advice is insidious because on one level, it’s pretty solid, but taken too far, it’s harmful.

What goes into writing a great character? Bonus round: give an example.

A good character has to care about something, but a great character should care about more than one thing.  That’s where conflict comes from.  I don’t much care for the bi-polar conflict of what the protagonist wants vs. what the antagonist wants.  I like characters—even minor ones—who have a variety of concerns, who need to make hard choices and figure out their values because they can’t have everything and something significant is at stake.  That’s what life is like.

A recently read example for me is the narrator from Stephen King’s 11/22/63.  He spends 700 pages fucking around in the 1950’s and trying to help (but often hurting) all kinds of people he meets along the way toward possibly preventing the Kennedy assassination. He falls in love with the era, and he falls in love with a woman, but none of it felt tangential to me.  It felt compelling because he’s a guy who cares about things big and small.

He’s also made interesting by a character detail that contradicts all of that evident caring, and it’s dropped in the first sentence of the book: he doesn’t cry.

Where does The Devil of Echo Lake come from? Why that book?

After playing in bands and then working as a recording engineer, I knew I had things I wanted to say about music and the music business.  I wanted to explore the tensions and temptations that musicians often deal with: egotism vs. empathy, art vs. industry, and even the fine line that a creative person might straddle between paranoia and the truly paranormal.  It helped me to sort out some of my own unresolved issues in an entertaining way.

The book feels, for lack of a better term, very authentic — you were a musician, yes? Got any good rock-and-roll stories?

Yeah, they’re all in the book.  Seriously, I threw every rock and roll anecdote I’ve ever heard or lived through at the wall in writing Echo Lake.  Then I cut a lot of it out to focus the story, but there’s still a fair amount of dark rock humor in there.

After my band broke up, I decided to infiltrate the music biz by going undercover as an assistant engineer at a big studio, hoping to meet A&R guys and producers and give them my song demos.  It didn’t work out, but I got a great book out of the experience.  There were some Spinal Tap moments.  My first day on the job, I got to watch a fresh faced British rock band light up with glee when they arrived at the studio and were handed a wad of cash by their producer.  Their unanimous reaction was, “Greenbacks! Right, let’s go buy a motor bike and a gun!”

Describe the road that Devil of Echo Lake took in terms of getting published.

I thought the book might be ready for a publisher after the fourth draft (WRONG), so I spent a couple of years sending out query letters to agents, and collecting rejections.  It can be weird trying to asses a book’s weaknesses when people are rejecting on the basis of maybe the first five pages, maybe the first fifty.  But I do recommend that first time novelists go through the grind rather than rushing to self publish.  For me, the process really refined the manuscript, especially the opening section.  I kept polishing and trimming it until there were more requests for the full manuscript, and more rejections with detailed notes.  That really helped.

Then I started submitting to a few small presses.  JournalStone was open for submissions to their 2012 Horror Novel contest, and I liked that they just wanted the full manuscript without any awkward query or synopsis in which I try to demonstrate that my story isn’t a cliche without spoiling the plot twists and secrets that make it unique.

The Devil of Echo Lake tied for first place, and they signed me to a three book deal.  Ironically, right before signing with JournalStone I finally had an agent interested, but by then I didn’t really need one.

You seem to want to write across multiple genres — what is the value of that, and what is the danger?

I guess I’ll soon find out.

I’m pretty confident that most of what I want to write will fit comfortably under the horror umbrella.  But I don’t want to repeat myself, and I think the value of trying different sub genres is that I won’t get bored.  Hopefully, neither will readers, but the danger is probably that if you like what I did last time, you might not get more of the same.

However, as a reader, if I like an author’s voice and vision, then I don’t really care so much about genre, I’ll follow them.  China Mieville is a great example of that.  He has written steampunk, detective noir, weird western, sci-fi, etc.  But it all has his indelible stamp on it because when he plays with a genre, he never does the predictable thing with its tropes.

Recommend a book, comic book, film, or game: something with great story. Go!

I can’t believe I’m going with a TV show, but for my money there is no better story banging around out there right now than Breaking Bad.

Favorite word?

Maybe “ephemeral.”

And then, the follow up: Favorite curse word?

I like “cunt.” I like how the sound of it has a concave quality with a bit of suction and punch that mimics the meaning.  And I like that it might be the only curse left in American English with such power that it’s still used very sparingly.

Favorite alcoholic beverage? (If cocktail: provide recipe. If you don’t drink alcohol, fine, fine, a non-alcoholic beverage will do.)

Guinness! And yes, Wynne is an Irish name.

What skills do you bring to help us win the inevitable war against the robots?

I wish you had asked about the Zombie Apocalypse because I have a few years of training in Samurai sword under my belt. True fact. But if it’s robots, don’t look at me… we’re fucked.  Maybe I can convince them that they need humans to produce rock n roll.

What’s next for you as a storyteller? What does the future hold?

My next book is almost finished. It’s a crime thriller with some historical elements related to WWII and the Japanese American internment camps.  It features a really scary serial killer, a family in jeopardy, and much higher body count than my first book.

After that, I want to write something that’s firmly rooted in the dark fantasy end of the spectrum.  I have a notebook full of big, intimidating, controversial ideas I need to grapple with for that.

Brain Squeezin’s

Random thoughts in 3… 2… 1…

* * *

You can buy a whiskey called Writer’s Tears. I don’t know what it tastes like. But if it were in any way authentic it would taste of ink and flopsweat, of the brine of insecurity and the heady broth of ego. It would have a nose of shame and a finish of triumph. It would feel like book pages on your tongue. It would burn the doubt out of your belly.

It’s probably not that good.

* * *

One flavor in a writer’s liquor cabinet should not be sour grapes. It’s easy to look at those more successful than us and feel that acrid twinge of jealousy that says they’re better than us, that twist of the intestines that says they don’t deserve it. Thing is, you’ll always have someone who’s earned more, by dint of deserving it or by luck or by the sheer fortune of having plunged teats-deep into unknowably trendy waters.

You’ll always have someone with another zero on their advance. With more reviews. With a better cover. With a greater command of prose. Better shelf space. Better percentage on e-books. More awards. More Twitter followers. Cooler hair. Nicer beard. (DAMN YOU AUTHORS WITH NICER BEARDS THAN ME. I WILL FIND YOU AND SHAVE YOU AND SALT THE EARTH. Ahem.)

It’s easy to get caught up in it. To splash around in the warm, green waters of envy. It’ll do you no good. Sour grapes are a kind of slow-acting poison. Look upon other writers and be inspired. Inspired by their success. Inspired to try to do better yourself. High-five them, don’t kick them in the junk drawer. More to the point: don’t kick yourself in the junk drawer with all those stupid, worthless, poisonous feelings. Celebrate, don’t denigrate.

* * *

We’re all going to die, so what the hell. The flu’s going to kill us one day. Not this flu. The next one. Some bat is going to fuck some monkey and their little bat-monkey baby is going to kill and eat an exotic possum and in this nature red in bat-wing and monkey-tail mess some mosquitoes are going to have a fucking field day and grab the new zoonotic Super-Flu virus and carry it to the far-flung corners of the world where it will destroy 9/10ths of humanity.

* * *

Schaden-flu-de.

I see some people getting a little cocky over their flu shots. Some folks get sick and it’s like, “OHH, IF ONLY THERE WAS A WAY TO STOP THE FLU OH WAIT THERE IS SHOULDA GOTTEN YOUR FLU SHOTS DUMMIES.” You probably shouldn’t think that way? First, because, you know, it’s not nice. “You have flu, and I am going to mock you for it,” is not particularly nice. It’s just chastising a gut-shot man for not wearing a bulletproof vest (“OHHH IF ONLY THERE WAS A WAY TO STOP BULLETS HAR HAR”).

Second because, umm, the flu vaccine doesn’t work like other vaccines, exactly. It is an imperfect creature — worth getting, but depending on which study you read they’re only 60-80% effective, and that’s only if they prevent a strain programmed into the vaccine (which does not include the Super Possum Flu that will obliterate us all). One study even suggests it’s not all that useful for kids under two or adults over 65. Article also notes:

“The perception that current [flu] vaccines are already highly effective in preventing influenza is a major barrier to pursuing game-changing alternatives.”

Plus, there’s a whole spate of flu-like sicknesses that aren’t flu.

Meaning, the vaccine does diddly-poop against them.

(Then there’s the norovirus, where you geyser your internals out the front and back for days!)

So, yeah, definitely get that shot — but don’t expect that it’s going to save you from the flu. And don’t relish in the fluey-ness of others. Because that’s what dicks do.

* * *

Then again, maybe it’s the unkillable gonorrhea that’ll get us all.

Slather your wangly bits in kevlar, folks.

* * *

“Slather” is a really good word.

Other good words: “Plethora.” “Hoarfrost.” “Scintillate.” “Frisson.”

* * *

Dan Brown has a new book out.

I mean, on the one hand: whoop-dee-doo, I guess. But it’s low-hanging fruit to go after him, or Meyers, or even the 50 Shades of Grey series. Let them be. Whatever. Snooki writes a cookbook and we all lose our shit but I figure that the Snooki-money and the Dan-Brown-geld bring in enough cash to keep publishers around, publishers that can then spend a little of that money on trying out new talent. That’s perfect-world-theorizing, of course, but sometimes I like to pretend we’re in that world. It makes me feel warm and cozy and like everything’s possible.

Like I’m wrapped in the warm skin of a bat-monkey hybrid.

* * *

Indie writers will point that out a lot. “Traditional publishers release garbage too.” Like that’s a reason to excuse it in your own world. “John took a shit in the water fountain, so why can’t I?” Besides, even a Snooki book or the eventual publishing arm created by some monster-blob lab-created monster born of the DNA of Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga (GAGABIEBER BIEBERGAGA IA! IA! FTHAGN!) still puts out books that are at least crafted with the bare minimum of quality in mind. I mean, it’s still a pile of shit, but it’s shit lacquered with gold leaf, by golly.

* * *

Are we still mad about them using that word, “indie?”

Language changes. Each word is not a single bullet.

Multiple meanings are okay. Words only mean what we need them to anyway.

Besides, a self-publisher is still a publisher, independent of all the others.

* * *

I like Lena Dunham. But a lot of you sure seem to hate her.

* * *

Teaching B-Dub certain words is an act of diminishing returns.

Me: “Say ‘ladder.'”

B-Dub: “Adder!”

Me: “Say ‘lllll-adder.'”

B-Dub: “Arble!”

Me: “Lad-der.”

B-Dub: “ADOBOBBODOOBO.”

Me: “LAD-DER.”

B-Dub: “SLARTIBARTFAST.”

* * *

I think our 20-month old is better at the iPad than I am.

* * *

Last night I made roasted strawberry slash creme fraiche ice cream.

I’ve only had a taste (ice cream is a weekend treat), but my face exploded with joy.

I cannot recommend the Jeni’s ice cream cookbook enough.

* * *

I think I miss Mitt Romney.

Like, I don’t want him to be president, but he was such a hilariously tone-deaf goon.

He needs a reality TV show. I’d totally watch that show. Especially if it put him in awkward situations his LEGO hair-brain couldn’t handle. Like teaching an inner-city school or… having to have empathy somewhere for someone. He’d short-circuit! Cue the laugh track.

* * *

I don’t get the Big Bang Theory.

This is not to say you should not enjoy it.

I don’t really buy that it’s “blackface” for nerds, exactly — it does seem to celebrate laughing at them more than with them but to me the issue is, I just don’t know that I find it funny? (Further, I’m not a fan of laugh tracks. It’s a thing with me, not with you.)

Ever see the videos where they cut the laugh track from shows?

Here’s one for BBT.

I’ve seen some debate that suggests Community is better than BBT, blah blah blah, and while I don’t know that it’s better, I certainly prefer (read: adore) Community. But I think the difference is that maybe, just maybe — and this is only if these designations matter to you or carry any weight at all — BBT is more for “nerds” and Community is more for “geeks.” I haven’t really sussed that one out yet, but maybe there’s something there?

Maybe it’s just that I don’t think I’m smart enough to be a nerd.

But I’m comfortable being geeky?

* * *

I didn’t get Seinfeld, either.

* * *

I’m really enjoying The Mindy Project.

And Happy Endings is the funniest show you’re not watching.

* * *

Mister Doyce Testerman takes aim at steampunk and all the other -punk subgenre categorizations. I’m not sold. I’m sure some things labeled “steampunk” are not as anti-establishment as we’d like, but for the most part — provided we’re not just talking steampunk as a fashion accessory — I see threads of anti-authority middle-finger punk attitude in there. Then again, maybe I’m just protecting myself since I continue to refer to my upcoming YA series as “cornpunk” (which came out of a joke, honestly but there it is).

* * *

It’s no secret that I am a fan of the artist Poe, who disappeared due to all kinds of awful record label bullshittery a while back. (Poe’s brother, by the way, is Mark Danielewski, author of House of Leaves, and her album, Haunted, has ties to that novel.) Lo and behold, I had no idea she popped up on the grid back in the fall with a tiny little new song:

 

* * *

I also like this video. And the song, obviously.

* * *

And this is my jam.

* * *

I should shut up now.

Have a nice day, everybody.

What Flavor Of Publishing Will You Choose?

Should you be your own publisher, or should you find someone to publish for you?

That’s a question that pops up in my inbox often enough it might as well be a coked-up gopher — so, instead of hitting each twitchy gopher with a tiny hammer, I figure I’ll write this one big-ass motherfucker of a blog post to serve as the Mjolnir that will eradicate all the pesky gophers into a fine splurch of bloody mist.

I’m going to answer the question now, up-front, with a somewhat controversial answer.

You should try the traditional route first.

All right, all right, stop yelling, indie authors. Cool your inflamed genitals.

Stop throwing things at my head. Because, seriously, ow.

Let’s offer up a couple disclaimers: first, this is me talking about my experiences and should be viewed as such, and you can of course take my advice or you can wad it up into a ball and shove it deep into a bison’s rectum. You may disagree with anything I say here and have entirely different experiences and that’s all good, dude-bro or lady-bro. I’m shining a flashlight on the path I’ve walked and the things I’ve seen while on it. You may do differently.

Second, I like to approach publishing as a hybridized endeavor, meaning, I do a little bit of everything. Traditional, DIY, crowdsourced, small press, the mystical Akashic Record, stone tablets hewn by the gods, whatever. As such, I am a fan of self-publishing. I do it. I have self-published releases out there. I will continue to self-publish in the future. My self-published releases in 2012 will equate to approximately 20% of my total writing income, which is pretty rad. I will not tell you to never self-publish.

But, I also get to hop the fence and frolic tra-la-la in the meadow of the traditional, as well.

Blackbirds is published via the “traditional method” (which is to say the fiction lay with a publisher in the missionary style and together with a midwife they birthed a book baby in a muddy trench under the eyes of a vigilant god).

In the grand scheme of things, Blackbirds is a fairly small release.

And yet, Blackbirds has been very good to me.

It has an amazing cover.

It’s been published far and wide. Indie bookstores, B&N, airport bookstores, online e-book distributors, and so on and so forth.

It’s received a boatload of reviews across both digital and meatspace. It’s shown up in places like the Guardian, the Independent, SFX, Starburst, Publisher’s Weekly, The Financial Times, io9. It’s got scads of commentary at places like Amazon and Goodreads and even still I get Google Alerts of bloggers talking about discovering the book and digging it.

It made it on a number of “best of 2012” lists.

A number of authors I admire and adore have gotten a hold of the book and told me how much they enjoyed it. Seanan McGuire’s very kind review of the book still gives me a giddy shiver now and again (and further, I’m quite certain it sold more copies of the book).

The book had foreign rights sold in two territories.

The film rights are thisclose to being wrapped up (hopefully this week).

The book ended up in the hands of a different film studio and off that, I was able to pitch a project to them and then to the head of a major film studio. (The pitch went through its paces and didn’t quite land, but gave me great contacts in both studios.)

The book ended up in the hands of a major comics publisher and allowed me to pitch a comic for a character I adore (no word yet on how well that pitch landed, sorry).

The book comes up routinely in conversations with other editors. The book’s relative success has led to other publishing opportunities and deals.

The book has earned me bonafide fans that appear at bookstores and conferences who seem to be (much to my bepuzzlement) genuinely happy to meet me and to have read the book.

The book is a super-weapon that conjures a fire unicorn from the heavens and together we are able to ride on the tail of a comet dispensing food to the hungry and sweet jamz to those without music. …okay, I might be making this last part up. SUE ME. (Please don’t sue me.)

For those of you crass commerce-hounds out there, I will note that a good deal of this has translated into money, as well as that most insubstantial of resources, “exposure.”

Now, the corker:

Most of this in my opinion would not have been possible if I self-published Blackbirds. I would never have gotten such a beautiful cover by the inimitable Joey Hi-Fi. Would’ve never sold foreign rights or film rights or had great reviews that multiplied exposure to the book. I probably wouldn’t have sold as many copies as I had (if sales of Bait Dog are any indication at all). I damn sure wouldn’t be in bookstores. And again, to revert to crass capitalism, I likely would’ve made a lot less money on the book had I gone the DIY route.

Yes, yes, I see you hopping up and down over there — I agree with you. My experiences are not going to be repeatable. Your book may do much better than this, or far worse, in a traditional space. Alternately, if you self-publish, you may end up having the blistering success that many worthy indie releases never seem to find. (Though, I’ll note here that the pot of gold at the end of many self-publishing rainbows seems so often to be a traditional publishing deal.)

So. Okay. All that being said, let’s give some reasons why you should try traditional first.

1) Because all that stuff I just said. Rights, reviews, access, bookstores, authors, $$$.

2) Because submitting to an agent and/or publisher will teach you things about the industry.

3) Because you may receive excellent feedback on your book for free about things that work.

4) Because you may receive similar feedback on your book (for free!) about things that don’t work (and should you end up publishing this way your book will be refined even further by agent and editor).

5) Because if you don’t get a deal, you can always go back and self-publish anyway.

6) Because if you get a deal but don’t like the terms, you can self-publish anyway.

7) Because if you get a deal and take it, and one day they no longer want to publish your book anymore because of sales or because Barnes & Noble shit the bed or because something-something Mayan Flu Gonorrhea Epidemic, you can take your book and self-publish anyway.

8) Because even if you don’t like the Big Six (er, five — or is it four by now?) you still have options to “traditionally” publish with smaller- to medium-size publishers or even with Amazon. Other options exist outside the mainstream, is what I’m saying.

9) Because not that you’re in this racket for respect (writers and respect are like oil and water), but you will get more as one who is traditionally-published than one who is not. Again: not a real good reason, but hey, maybe that sort of thing matters to you.

10) Because a more traditional path to publication may build fans who will then take a risk on your self-published work (where they may before have been averse to it).

11) Because flaming unicorn comet riding. Okay, I said I was making that one up, sorry.

12) Because patience is a virtue writers need to learn and going the traditional path will sure as the sexual charity of Sweet Saint Fuck teach you a mega-uber-ultra-dose of patience.

It mostly sums up to: “It can’t hurt, and it may help.”

Your mileage may vary, of course. Do with this as thou wilt. If you want to self-publish first and only, that’s a path that offers many authors a potential wealth of success in differing ways — so, I’m not knocking it, and I’m not saying it’s a bad idea. I just figure, traditional offers things right now that many writers seek (including cold hard cash), and blah blah blah.

Though, hey, certainly there are reasons to go straight to self-publishing, too: certain genres, for instance, tend to be exploitative toward traditional authors while rewarding indie writers. Further, self-pub allows you to publish risky material in terms of content or format.

Maybe you just got a burning middle finger for authority.

That’s all good. You do as you like. Do what makes you happiest, penmonkey.

*drops mic*

*takes a nap on snoozing unicorn*

Monday Question: Wuzza Wooza Worldbuilding?

Saladin Ahmed wrote a cool thing at NPR called:

At Home In Fantasy’s Nerd-Built Worlds.”

It’s an article about the virtues of worldbuilding in terms of fantasy fiction.

In it, he says:

“Like a detailed model railroad the size of a football field, or a small city of fully furnished dollhouses, the well-built fantasy world astonishes us with the vastness of its intricacies. And from this wood, paint, cloth, metal, and hours and hours of painstaking nerds’ work, a kind of magic is made.”

(Which is a damn fine quote, indeed.)

I’m always a little… reticent to fall too deep into the world-building rabbit-hole, because oh, what a deep and wonderful hole it is. In both my upcoming YA cornpunk series and in my next Angry Robot novel, The Blue Blazes, by golly, there was worldbuilding to be done. But I also found that the worldbuilding was easy to become tangential and distracting — there comes a point when figuring out the details of the world crosses over from “enhances the richness of the narrative” to “tangles the narrative up in its own shoelaces and makes it fall down and chip a tooth and then everybody laughs at it as it skulks home, weeping into its bloodied hands.”

Ahmed points this out — giving some examples of worldbuilding that works (and why) and also noting those examples that perhaps fall towards parody (Robert Jordan, f’rex).

Really heavy worldbuilding distracts me, I think — once I hit that point in a fantasy novel that we have to describe the pubic grooming habits of halflings or the lyrical history of the lizard people’s addiction to chocolate eclairs I start to tune out. But, when done well, it gives you a deeper sense of place and roots you to the story in a way that the plot itself cannot. (This is true in much the same way that details about a character can bring you closer to that character — at least, until they don’t, until they expel you from them like an exorcism purging a ghost.)

I’m fond of saying that I prefer worldbuilding that serves the story rather than story that serves the worldbuilding. (Though the opposite is true in terms of games: a rich world presents myriad stories for me as the player to experience — the deeper the world, the bigger the sandbox.)

It also occurs to me just now that the worldbuilding in the very non-fantasy novel of Ulysses (James Joyce) is actually quite robust. It’s almost like a fantasy novel without the fantasy bits? In that sense that Joyce creates the heroic journey (made mundane) through a capably-realized real world city, and along the way packs in enough allusions and details to perhaps drown a bull elephant. (It’s a hard-to-read novel, though I do quite love it.)

I was never the kid with the fantasy map on his wall, but over time I’ve come to appreciate the power of really good worldbuilding.

Which is all a roundabout way of this week’s question:

What for you is an example of good worldbuilding? Or bad? In genre work or not.

And the obligatory: why?

Follow-Up On The Albee Agency Kerfuffle

If you recall, last month, a book publicity agency — the Albee Agency — posted testimonials on its website falsely attributed to some authors like me, Maureen Johnson, and Myke Cole, using our names without permission. (My post on the subject is here, but also have a look at the Writer Beware entry on them by the most excellent Victoria Strauss.)

Once busted and folks started tweeting to them, the testimonials remained the same but they changed the names associated with those them.

Things have been quiet since then, except recently I caught wind of:

I want this to be very clear: saying the Albee Agency falsely attributed my name and the names of other authors to testimonials they never gave was never an act of espionage launched by some other agency. It was a reporting of details. Nobody paid me. The blog post is not a fake.

I asked the person above (@Murphyverse) about where he heard that.

Was it from the Albee Agency? Is that what they told him?

They might have suggests, at least, that there is a chance the Albee Agency was lying to him about what went down regarding those testimonials, telling clients that those posts were faked and paid for by a competitor (@Murphyverse claimed it was “Smith Publicity” doing the dirty deed), when in fact no such thing was or is true.

Murphyverse followed up with (this time without an @-to me, perhaps mistakenly):

(I assume that’s to read, “harassed you into it.”)

Here, the key is, “they told me.”

Meaning, the Albee Agency told him that.

Meaning, they lied to him about that.

Looking through his Twitter stream seems to indicate other problems with the Albee Agency (issues of payment to them without result, issues of non-communication, etc).

The Albee Agency also now has a “word press blog” (“There is not wrong or right way to write a blog.. it is totally personal to you and your interests.”). But maybe there’s also this one? albeeagencyblog.wordpress.com? (Where they misspell their own name as Alby Agency?)

Once again, this is a reminder to be wary of any company out there in Internet-Land who provides dubious services and throw up a whole shitload of red flags. They particularly like to prey on self-published or “indie” authors. So, again, as Victoria Strauss says: writer beware.

The Qwillery Debut Author Cover Battle!

The end of the year came and I’m happy as hell that Blackbirds made it onto a bunch of best of lists, but I’m just as happy that the cover made it onto so many lists, too — the Joey Hi-fi cover, in my mind, deserves all the kudos it can get. It’s a cover that far outshines the novel I wrote and I am eager to be its champion.

So, forgive the intrusion, but we’ve one more battle left to fight.

The Qwillery Battle debut author cover challenge ends at the end of the day (11:59pm). It’s been a two-week battle, a fierce and snarling challenge between Blackbirds and another ass-kicking Angry Robot book, Chris Holm’s Dead Harvest.

Dead Harvest is, of course, a cover deserving of its laurels — it’s a stellar emblem of how a great cover designer can do something that conjures old elements (in this case, those of pulp novels) and executes in a fresh way. (That cover is designed by studio Amazing15.)

Further, Chris Holm is a writer of immense talent. You should be reading him.

Just the same, I once more cannot let the challenge go by without giving it my all.

I mean, ye gods, look at that Blackbirds cover. Look at it. I SAID LOOK AT IT.

Take at least two hours to just stare at it. I’m happy to duct tape your face to the monitor.

You know, if it helps.

It’s a beautiful cover! A staggering piece of starkly-painted art! My jaw drops every time I see it.

Anyway.

Right now, Blackbirds is down, folks. The tick-tock of the clock reminds us that the battle will soon be over. Go! Hurry! Vote! Vote for your favorite cover which may or may not be Blackbirds but if it is Blackbirds then we shall cross a meadow in slow-motion with giddy looks on our faces and when when we get close to one another we will leap into the air toward one another and freeze-frame high-five as the credits roll over us.

Or something.

What I’m saying is, I appreciate your patience in me yammering on about stuff like this.

And I’d appreciate your vote.

Click here to go to the challenge.

*freeze-frame high-five*

*credits roll*