A while back, I promised I would look at the new report from Author Earnings. I needed time to assess the data for the purposes of this blog. For those of you who don’t know, Author Earnings is a website started by Hugh Howey and a man known only as Data Guy. The site takes […]
Fortunately for me, indie publishing came along. I was able to get out of the traditional publishing novel merry-go-round, which never suited me, and able to publish my novels on my own.
There are a lot of capable people working in traditional publishing, some fantastic editors, and publishers who really care about writers and books. I love working with those people. I consider it a privilege to interact with them.
But now, I’m straddling both worlds, and I find myself a bit overwhelmed by the weirdness of both pace and deadlines.
That’s how I described my brain today to a few folks. Fried cheese. Not Swiss cheese, which would imply that there’s space for air to go through. Fried cheese, all melted together—crusty on the outside and unrecognizable goo on the inside.
Crystal Caves, the second book in the Interim Fates series, just appeared today. A writer shouldn’t love one baby more than her others, but I love Crystal. She’s my favorite Interim Fate—which surprised me, considering I would have told you that Tiffany was before I wrote the books.
Bethanne Dupree runs a computer dating service and pretends she doesn’t need it, too. She manages to separate her personal life from her business life until Ray Greco comes to the office of the dating service to make a video. The handsome Greco distracts her staff, and his video crashes her server. In fact, he […]
I’ve written five openings to this blog today. I want to write a completely different blog—and I will. In fact, I’ll write five completely different blogs, but I can’t publish them for several months. If I publish them now, then the people I’m referring to will know I’m referring to them, and that would be […]
I’m sure you’ve all seen the first. Stephen King wrote one of his every-five-years or so essays defending the prolific writer. His essays are always a little defensive, because he’s writing for the literary crowd, and always a little perplexed, as if he’s not sure why people complain when someone writes fast. (I’m perplexed about that too.)
Triwell doesn’t adopt strays. He feels like a stray himself, a man who has lost everything even though he has a house and an antiquarian bookstore in Seavy Village on the Oregon Coast.
But the cat adopted him. And she proves a mystery. A mystery who lives with him. A mystery he will solve one summer in a surprising—and deadly—way.