Updates, Patreon, Anxiety, etc.

Updates, Patreon, Anxiety, etc.

Hey gang, sorry it’s been radio silent around here for a while, but ye olde brain chemistry had been pretty out of whack and I’ve been struggling to get anything accomplished. But today was a good day, and it’s looking like it might be a good week. Or at least a damned interesting one. I’m being vague, I know, but all will be revealed in the fullness of time, I promise.

But let’s give you an update on Patreon, and what I’m looking at doing starting next month. A week or so ago, Patreon announced that they were changing their fee structure to let the creators keep a larger chunk of their pledges. Great, right?

Wrong.

While we, the creators, will see reduced fees under their new structure, we’re seeing that reduction on the backs of you, our patrons. Whereas in the past, all processing fees and stuff was taken out of my chunk of money before it was sent to me each month, now those fees will be tacked on to your pledges before they are sent to me. So if you are a $1/month patron, it’s now going to cost you $1.38 or so each month to support me. Which sucks. Especially for the ten or so of my $1 patrons who support a bunch of other artists. I had one friend tell me that these changes would add $40 to her monthly pledge budget overall. Because even though Patreon is only getting tagged once for processing the credit cards of patrons, they are tacking the service charge on to every pledge. We call that profit. And shitty.

So while I have no plans to leave Patreon, I plan to change the way that I address Patreon.

Starting January 1, everything that is available on the $1 patron tier will also be available here, on this website, one week later. I’ll find a place to stick a tip jar somewhere in the sidebar of the page, so if you want to drop a buck or two in there every once in a while, you can. But I don’t want my patrons feeling screwed in any way, so if supporting me happens at the expense of dropping another creator, please – drop me first. It’s not that I don’t need the money. I do. But I’ve been selling pretty well the past few months, and I have a couple of things in the hopper that may turn out to be legitimate Big Deals, so I can handle losing a few patrons. Also, a couple of my patrons have either increased their pledges to cover the loss of patrons, or they’ve offered to pay for other people’s pledges. So neither of us is going to lose anything in the long run. I’ll still get the same money, and you’ll still be able to get the same content, just with a slight delay.

Now if you want to continue to support my Patreon, at any level, I will still appreciate the hell out of you. I just don’t want people to feel guilty if they drop me, or to feel like they have to choose between supporting me or another creator.

I will also likely be starting up a subscription service over at Gumroad once they get all their bandwidth sorted. They’ve been a touch overwhelmed the last few days as people seek out alternatives to Patreon.

In other news, it’s probably too late to get autographed books delivered for Christmas, but I do still have a few things in my Inventory Reduction Sale if you want to get some signed stuff before the end of the year. Anything I still have after Christmas will be donated to a local shelter for LGBTQ youth.

And you should all watch ABC this Friday at 11AM. Watch carefully, there may something really cool happening. 🙂

Semicolons and Shit Left Undone: A #HoldOnToTheLight Post

Semicolons and Shit Left Undone: A #HoldOnToTheLight Post

Yeah, that’s a picture of my wrist.

Yeah, I have a semicolon tattoo.

Yeah, I have lost friends to suicide.

Yeah, I have had suicidal feelings at times.

No, I’ve never attempted suicide.

No, I don’t have suicidal thoughts anymore, nor have I for several years.

No, this isn’t a “cry for help,” or any other random way of me looking for sympathy for my past, current, or future issues with depression, bipolar disorder, or anything else.

This is me talking about my tattoo, who it’s for, why it’s there, and what wearing it has meant for me.

This tattoo is for my uncle, who took his own life while his wife folded laundry on the porch. This tattoo is for my actor friend who survived not only the suicide of his father, but also his twin brother, and grew up to be one of the strongest, most talented motherfuckers I know. This tattoo is for my pal Logan, whose demon won the fight one dark night. This tattoo is for every writer on the Mid-South con circuit who woke up one morning thinking “What could I have done to make it better?” This tattoo is for my friend Dave whose life caught up with him and overwhelmed him. This tattoo is for my poker buddies who sat around a table with me wondering “How could he?” then listened in shock as I explained exactly how he could, and what it felt like on the inside of that struggle when everyone around you is completely unaware that you’re even fighting.

If there’s anyone that’s a better liar than an addict, it’s a high-functioning depressive. And if you want to talk about a dubious fucking honor, that’s one right there.

I put this semicolon on my wrist earlier this year. My buddy James R. Tuck did it, along with other tattoo work. James is my brother from another mother, a helluva writer, and a good man. When he asked me which way I wanted the tattoo to point, I didn’t know.

“Is it for you, or is it for other people?” he asked.

I didn’t know the answer. But in the moment, I said “For me.” And he oriented the tattoo so that every time I look at my wrist, I’m reminded that I’m still here because I have shit left to do. I’m not finished, and I’m too arrogant and stubborn to think that anyone could carry on my projects without me. So I guess I’ll stick around.

All of that still holds true. But since I put that tattoo on my wrist, a funny thing has happened. Funny, and heartbreaking at the same time. When they see mine, they show me theirs. It’s like we’re part of this odd club – the survivors. I’ve had gas station cashiers roll up their sleeves out of the blue, waitresses hike up their uniform pants to show me an ankle, and more than one person at a con give me a questioning look before showing me their ink.

Yeah, I’ve been there. I love and hate that I’m part of this club. I love it, because there’s a network of people wearing this tattoo and talking about their pain and their issues. I love it, because every time we have an open conversation about mental health it helps erase the stigma associated with it, and that can lead to someone getting the help they need before they become another statistic. I hate it, because it means that a lot of other people have spent a lot of time hurting, and I really wish that weren’t true.

But if I can bring more attention to the fact that a lot of people have earned their semicolons, whether they have a tattoo or not, then it’s worth a sometimes-awkward conversation. If you aren’t familiar with Project Semicolon, their website is here. It horribly ironic that the founder of this website and movement lost her battle with depression and suicidal ideation, showing that it’s a never-ending struggle.

I’m okay. This has been a good week, following a good month. Not a great month, but a good one. I’m consistently hovering around a 4-7 out of 10 on my personal wellness scale, where 10 is amazeballs and 1 is dead. My lowest in recent history has been a three, which is pretty good. My highest has been a nine or so, which is awesome. Most days I’m on the high side of the scale, which is great. So I’m okay. But if you aren’t okay, please understand that there are people out there who have been there, who give a shit, and would like to see you around for a long time. So if you need help, find help. There are a lot of resources out there, and a lot of resources on the #HoldOnToTheLight website.

You story isn’t finished yet; keep on writing it.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled broadcast…

We interrupt our regularly scheduled broadcast…

I know, it’s Wednesday. I know, this is when I’m supposed to do a How to Sell More Books Blog Post.

We’ll get back to that next week. This is more important. One of my best friends had a kid, and he’s got some health issues. This is your chance to get rewarded for helping somebody out.

 

Wesley’s Story

See that cute little bastard in the photo? That’s my little buddy Wesley. He’s my friends Rich and Kat’s kid, and he need a new liver. Now, I know, a lot of us need new livers, but that’s because of our poor life decisions. Wesley hasn’t had time to make any shitty life choices yet, so he needs a hand. If you could find it in yourself to donate something to Wesley’s transplant fund, I’d really appreciate it.

I’ll even sweeten the pot.

Donate $5 – I’ll send you an ebook of Redemption Song, my Quincy Harker Short Story

Donate $10 – I’ll send you an ebook of Amazing Grace, my new novel release.

Donate $20 – I’ll send you your choice of collected Harker or Bubba ebook (Year 1, Year 2, Year 3, you get the idea).

Donate $50 – I’ll name a faerie after you in the Bubba book I’m working on right now. Plus choose an ebook reward from a lower tier.

Donate $100 – I’ll name the big monster of this Bubba book after you. Plus choose an ebook reward from a lower tier.

Donate $250 – I’ll send you, anywhere in the world, a signed hardback first edition (you can tell it’s a first edition because there’s a typo on the back cover! There were only two of these ever printed) of Harker Year One. This is a limited offer of ONE. UPDATE – This reward is already gone, because people are AWESOME! But don’t let that stop you from giving. I’ll come up with something excellent for you, I promise!

You can also just donate without asking for anything in return. Tell me about it when I see you, and I’ll give you a big-ass hug.

If you choose to donate, please email your receipt to me – john AT johnhartness.com, so I know you did a cool thing.

Thanks, and feel free to share. We’ll get back to our regularly scheduled pimping and promotion soon, but for now, I wanted to try and help a Junior Adventurer.

The world as I see it.

The world as I see it.

Hey there –

Just dropping in for a quick update. My writing, at least as far as the stuff I’m publishing, has been slowed down a bunch this summer by travel and the fact that I have been slamming on Black Knight #7 as hard as I can go for a while now. But the end of that project is in sight, so I have managed to get started on Bubba Season 4, Episode 2, where Bubba deals with his psycho Granny, Mad Queen Mab of FairyLand.

I also have a short story due by August 1 that I should probably start writing. But maybe that’s next weekend’s project. I’ve also had a lot of publisher projects to handle the past few weeks, but most of those are either complete, or complete to a point that I can step back from them for a little while.

So here’s what’s coming –

I’m finishing up the first draft to Wild Knight, Black Knight #7. Then I send it off to Deb at Bell Bridge, and we start the editorial process. Hopefully that thing hits before the end of 2017, but let’s not hold our breath, shall we? This book has a lot of threads, and Deb is good about cracking the whip on me and making me do my shit the right way, so I might have to go back in and do some surgery on this thing before all is said and done.

Fire heart, my YA dragon romance novel, releases on my birthday – August 14th. It’s up for pre-order now, and it’s cheaper if you pre-order. I’m raising the price as soon as release day is over, so if you want to get it for $2.99, you better click a link.

My Patreon patrons will all also get a present on my birthday, and anyone who is a patron and has pledged for at least one billing cycle before then will get something neat. So if you want a present, become a patron. You have to do it before patron pledges are billed at the beginning of the month, though. You can’t just sign up on the 10th, then quit after I give out presents on the 14th, and get the present without ever paying for the patron level. That’s not cool.

I’m also serializing a mil sci-fi cyborg book I’ve been working on over at Patreon, so all patrons can read everything there. Amazing Grace has a few more chapters, then I’ll get that edited, and I’m going to enter it into the Kindle Select program, to see if Amazon will pick it up. I’ll be asking all of you to vote for the book once that starts, so get ready!

Once I finish this Bubba book, probably sometime in August, then I’ll hit the next Harker book hard. That gets us to the midway point of Quest for Glory, and once we get that written there will be two more Harker novellas in that storyline, plus a Gabby Van Helsing novella and a Jack Watson novella. It’ll all wrap up into one big damn Season 3 volume, with a fuckton of angels all over the place.

And with that many angels in one place, there’s got to be at least one devil, right?

There are two more Bubba novellas in FairyLand coming, then Bubba will be back in the mundane world for Season 5, picking up the pieces and facing the consequences from his unexpected and unannounced absence. This will  tie into the Bubba verse novellas that folks like Eric Asher, Bobby Nash, and Gail Z. Martin are all writing this year and next. So there’s plenty of stuff for y’all to read coming soon.

Now I gotta go – rasslin’s coming on. Peace out.

Not my typical blog post – a #holdontothelight blog post

Not my typical blog post – a #holdontothelight blog post

This post doesn’t have anything to do with writing, or helping you make more money from your writing. This post doesn’t attack any of the current sacred cows of publishing, or promote any new releases. This post isn’t funny, and probably won’t piss anybody off. So if you’re looking for my typical fare, you should probably skip this one and come back next week. I can probably find something to bitch about by then.

Last week I lost a friend.

More specifically, last week a friend lost his lifelong battle with depression and mental illness, and took his own life.

This isn’t the first time I’ve gone through this, and it probably won’t be the last. I write some variation on this post every time, because I feel like I owe that much to my uncle Ed, to Logan, and now to Dave. I can’t make sense of their actions, and I can’t explain them. I won’t excuse them. I’m still angry at all three of them for choosing a short-term solution to a long-term problem, and I probably always will be.

But I understand why.

I have a semicolon tattooed on the inside of my left wrist. Depending on who asks, I either tell people it’s for suicide awareness, in honor of people I’ve lost, or I tell them the truth. I tell them that it’s there because I could have ended my sentence, but chose not to. If I’m being honest, I tell people it’s because I’ve considered suicide, but never made a serious attempt. I’ll tell people that I’ve never been truly suicidal, but I understand how fine a line it is between living and dying when you deal with depression and mental illness every day.

I recently had a conversation with another friend who battles depression, and something finally crystallized for me – I never wanted to kill myself, but there have been a lot of days when the thought of dying, or just not being alive, was pretty fucking appealing.

Let me clarify – I have never attempted suicide. Yes, I’ve had suicidal thoughts, but not for a long time. My depression is pretty well-managed right now, with medication and good people around me. But I know where it lurks, and I know what it’s like when it’s on me.

I know what the fight feels like, and I know how goddamn tiring it can be. I know the bone-deep exhaustion that comes from fighting every minute of every day. I’m lucky. I’ve never lost that fight. My friend last week lost. He probably lost for just a minute. Maybe less. But that’s all it takes.

It’s not like anything else. You can lose a championship boxing match and come back for a rematch. You lose your fight with depression, and the monster kills you. You give it one opening, and the monster kills you. You drop your guard for one fucking second, and the monster kills you.

That’s why people who suffer with depression seem so tired sometimes. Because they are fighting for their life every second of every day. Because if Mike Tyson lands one punch, you’re probably knocked out. If depression lands one, you don’t get up off the mat. Ever.

So yeah, I know what Dave’s fight was like, even if I don’t know nearly everything about what he was going through. I was shocked when I heard he’d taken his own life, but the fact that he hid that side of himself so successfully for so long surprised me not at all. The best liars in the world are addicts and depressives, and there’s a reason there’s so much overlap between the two groups. Nobody hides their true fan better than someone with serious depression. Nobody.

So please, if you’ve got shit going down in your life – talk to someone. If you don’t have a therapist, talk to a minister. If you don’t want to talk to a preacher, call a hotline. Call somebody who understands how to talk you down off the ledge. Sometimes your friends might be the worst people to talk to, because they may not understand what’s going on. It might be better to talk to a faceless person on the other end of the phone. But talk to somebody. Just for a minute. Maybe two. Take a second to let somebody shield you from the body blows your monster is dealing you. Most of the time, that’s all you need – a minute or two. Then you can get back in the ring. You can get back in the fight.

Because your depression? It’s a lying sack of shit. It’s going to tell you that nothing you do matters. I can tell you firsthand, from looking in the eyes of too many friends and family left behind and asking why, that everything you do matters. You matter. And I don’t lie. I don’t have the energy for it.

So I’m sad. I’m not depressed because my friend lost his fight. I’m sad. There’s a difference, and it’s pretty critical. I also hope that wherever he is, he finds peace. Because his fight is over. He can rest. I can’t. I won’t. I’ll keep fighting for me. And if you need me to, I’ll fight for you, too. Just stay in the ring with me. We might not ever beat the monster, but together, I promise the motherfucker won’t beat us.

Keep fighting.

For more information and resources, go to Hold On To The Light, a campaign for mental health and surviving founded by Gail Z. Martin.Â