by john | Dec 7, 2012 | Real Life, Vampires, Writing
I get distracted easily. By shiny things, loud noises, Magic cards, eBay, Craigslist, Facebook, the like.
Pretty much anything.
And lately I’ve been distracted by looking for a job.
It’s not that the writing thing isn’t working out, it’s that the writing thing isn’t working out quite well enough to support me. We’re not starving (which is evident from my waistline) or in danger of losing our house, but we’re eating through our savings a little more quickly than I’d hoped, so I’m probably re-entering the workforce. It’s not a huge deal, I have skills that people are willing to pay for, and I have an interview on Monday.
So that’s happening.
And I finished most of my Bubba work for the year, except the super-secret Skeeter Christmas story that I’m working on that should release next week, just in time for some ho-ho-hilarity.
Guess that’s not much of a secret anymore, is it?
So that’s kinda what’s going on here. I’m looking for full-time employment, or part-time employment, and working hard on resurrecting a local theatre advocacy organization, and writing a bit, and playing Magic. Now it’s time to go work on the rewrites for Paint it Black.
You know, that fourth book in The Black Knight Chronicles that you guys have been waiting a year and a half for? Yeah, the first draft is done, the revised draft is due to my publisher around the first of the year, and hopefully we’ll get that in your hands early in 2013.
Merry Christmas!
by john | Aug 10, 2012 | Appearances, Business of publishing, Real Life, Vampires
Still pushing for the finish line on Black Knight revisions. Also up to my ass reading submissions for The Big Bad, and learning a new respect for editors the world over. So far my co-editor and I have picked five or six stories out of fifty or so to go into the anthology, but there’s still a LOT of reading to do. I’m bouncing between reading stuff for my critique group, reading submissions, and revising Knight Moves right now, so no progress has been made on any new work. I plan to be done with critique group stuff and Knight Moves this week, so then I can focus on reading subs and writing new words between now and Dragon Con.
Speaking of Dragon Con, that’s rushing toward us faster and faster, and I’m so far from ready it’s ridiculous. Last week at Charlotte Comicon I sold out of Back in Black and Knight Moves, and I’m not going to re-order those until the new versions are ready from Bell Bridge. I have about two dozen copies of Hard Day’s Knight that I’ll take with me, and once those are gone, they’re gone forever. I need to order a few more copies of Headshot, Genesis and Bump in the Night, but I’m not sure exactly how many to order yet. And I have to do new bookmarks and postcards. My publisher is doing Black Knight Chronicles bookmarks, so I need some to promote my other stuff. I was thinking one for Bubba & The Chosen and one for my YA work. That seems to make the most sense, to me at least.
I have plenty of t-shirts for Dragon, so at least I don’t need to order any more of those. But I definitely need to get a new episode of Literate Liquors out to y’all this week. It’s technically AJ Hartley’s turn in the hot seat, but since Richard Kadrey has a new book out next week, he might get moved ahead in the queue. Or I could get off my ass and edit both of them, what a concept!
And I still wanna go see Batman. Maybe for my birthday. Yeah, my birthday is next Tuesday. Y’all can click here to give me presents! I don’t really expect my blog readers to give me presents, but it’s awesome if you want to (thanks!) and it never hurts to ask. Besides, as I near the big 4-0 I find myself even less shy about asking for shit that I want.
But here’s something you want – the cover for the Black Knight Omnibus. I love it, I think it captures a darker feel, but still got some funny stuff going on.
by john | Jul 31, 2012 | Business of publishing, Vampires
Some folks have wondered where things are in the process of re-working The Black Knight Chronicles for re-release now that I’m working with a traditional publisher. And even more folks have wondered when they’ll be seeing Book IV – Paint it Black.
The short answer is – I don’t have a firm answer. The long answer is that the rewrites took me longer than I expected, and were more in-depth than I expected. These editors really pushed me, making me look long and hard at the boys and Sabrina and their motivations for doing things. “Because it seemed like fun” was no longer an acceptable answer, so I didn’t even bother with “because I was drinking when I wrote that scene.” They’ve done wonders for my writing, and I think that the books you get when you pick up the Omnibus of Books 1-3 will be so much improved that it’ll be just like reading whole new stories.
In some places, you will be. There are so many changes to things that I feel like a DC Comics editor! But these books are going to be amazing, and I’m prouder of them than I ever have been. But the truth is that I still don’t know if they’ll be ready for Dragon*Con. It’s almost August, and we’re all – me, my editor, my publisher, my copyeditor, the cover artist, the typesetter, the proofreader – everyone working as fast as we can to get the books out. I’m not sure we’ll have them for Dragon, which is a bummer. But if it takes a couple weeks to make it a better book, and the length of time of these revisions is all on me, not the publisher, then I’d rather take longer and have a better end product.
So the omnibus of Books 1-3 will be out sometime this fall. I’m not sure if Paint it Black will drop this year or not. The first draft is complete, but I’ll have to do some major rewrites on that as well once we finish the omnibus. There are story lines that need to be woven into the book, some that need to be enhanced, and continuity to be checked. Plus it’ll take several revisions just to get the story right. So I don’t know if I can finish with it this year, much less get it in the queue for a cover and a release from the publisher this year. But once we get this flood of four books out in short order, we’ll have a better idea of how much time it all takes, and can realistically schedule the following two books. This is a learning process for the publisher as well as for me – it’s not every day they buy six books from one guy, three of which have already been released.
But as that release comes nearer – the books will be removed from all venues other than Amazon. That’s because I only have ebook rights on Amazon as per my contract, so to make sure the books aren’t for sale in two versions, I need to pull them from the other online venues to make sure they’re down before the release date. So if you need to get them for your Nook, either haul ass or wait for the omnibus. Or do both. I won’t mind.
So that’s where we are with the books. I hope this was a satisfactory answer for you guys, and please don’t get grumpy with my publisher for delaying the release. They’re not. It’s me, and my editors, polishing the books until they shine brighter than you’d ever believe!
by john | Jan 4, 2012 | Book Spotlight, Business of publishing, Vampires, Writing
I’ve known today’s guest blogger longer than I’ve known any of the other writer friends in the fantasy world. We met long, long ago in another life, in another state, and before a couple more careers for both of us. We reconnected through Facebook and realized that we’re chasing the same dream. Her first book, The Betrayal, came out late last year. Give it a look at Amazon or Barnes & Noble.
GO FORTH!
Anyone who loves acting or directing, dreams of working on Broadway.
Anyone who loves dancing ballet, dreams of dancing at Lincoln Center.
Anyone who loves painting, dreams of having their work in a gallery in Paris, London or NYC.
What about writers? Well, many dream of being published.
When you’re about to be forty there’s really no more lying to yourself. I looked at what I’d been doing and realized that there was no way with my current lifestyle I was ever going to be a well known director. In order to really do that I needed to have a flexible job and I work in an office. It’s a good job. I like it. It pays well and gives me insurance. To walk away from that would be stupid. But if I wanted to really have the freedom to be a director I needed to be able to travel and be flexible. I could do neither. So it was apparent to me that staying in theatre for me was just me spinning my wheels. I wasn’t going to move up any higher than I already was at. And to be honest, I wasn’t happy with that.
I thought of my first love, writing, and weighed that against what I was doing. The answer was very clear. I wanted to write more than I wanted to keep plugging away at directing/producing. Hell, the idea of even attending an Off Off Broadway show made me want to squirm. I swore if I saw one more experimental artsy performance I’d shoot the cast and walk out with a clear conscious. So I hunted for the book I’d started writing in college, loaded it up and finished the damn thing.
I hate to even type this…but it was Twilight that made me do this. DON’T SHOOT ME! Let me explain! It’s not the reason you think.
To be honest, I was suddenly afraid someone was going to write/publish my story. No, Twilight is NOTHING like my series (unless you count the word “vampire” as a connection) but it made me go, “Get off your ass, girl, and get it done!” So, though I’m not a huge fan of the series, I thank the powers that be for putting a foot on my ass.
So, book is finished. Now what? Get an agent…right? Then they’d get me a publisher and so on and so forth. Little did I know how much the publishing world was changing. I don’t think I really understood until I owned a Kindle. I was buying books right and left on that thing. So when a writing pal of mine emailed me a link to an e-publisher looking for Fantasy Novels I thought, what the hell, why not?
But what about an agent? I was trying but I wasn’t getting anywhere fast. I’d been submitting to literary agents for a year and a half and nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I caught the eye of some of them and they asked to read it, but then they would disappear off the planet. Or as I had reached the point of saying, “They fell into a ditch and they swallowed their laptop and forgot how to check their email.” Yeah, I’m a little bitter. I’m working on it.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the link my friend had sent me was to Eirelander Publishing. I researched them and submitted. By that Saturday I had an offer in my email. I was shocked. I was in tears. I was leery. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? Then I thought, “Easy? I’ve been bustin’ my ass for a year and a half to get someone to give me a chance!” And when you write vampire novels and your publisher/editor’s name is Buffi, how can you not see it as “meant to be”?
For you see, I started to try and sell the first book of The Living Dead Girl Saga in December of 2009. I told myself if I’d not found an agent by December 2011 I would start considering going to Grad School (somewhere warm ‘cause NYC weather really bites). But, on October 14, 2011 that book was released by Eirelander Publishing in e-book format. We hope to see it hit Amazon Print on Demand early in 2012.
For me, two of my dreams have come true. I’ve worked successfully in the indie-theatre world of NYC and now, I am published. To be honest, the latter really hasn’t sunk in fully. I think that’s because it’s so new and because I’m still a tiny fish in a big pond.
But I will push forth! Book Two, called Shattered, in the Living Dead Girl Saga, has been requested by my publisher so if you’ve read Book One, The Betrayal, and enjoyed it, the next one will be out in 2012!
For more information on me and my books, visit me at www.tamsinsilver.com . Once there you can find links to purchase my book in e-format (Amazon and B&N) as well as a PDF form through my publisher. You’ll also find cool things like pictures of my characters, videos from the photo-shoots, and if you hit the October entries of my blog there are character profiles for most everyone in the LDG Saga. Or, if you want…here are links:
Photos: http://is.gd/nD6rd7
Videos: http://is.gd/tYJbJ7
Character Profiles: http://is.gd/r2Pixg
I hope you are following your dreams. If you’re not, stop making excuses and GO FORTH! Jump on the ambition train and make it happen. You won’t regret it. Honestly, even if I’d not gotten published yet, I’d not regret my decision. I’ve met so many great people doing National Novel Writer Month and getting involved with a writing group here in NYC, that I feel suddenly like I’m on the right path. I just wish I’d not avoided that path for ten years due to my fears.
So go forth, and good luck! Cheers! -Tamsin
by john | Nov 24, 2011 | Fiction, Vampires, Writing
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! Here’s a little something I tossed together for your enjoyment!
Turkey Day Debacle
By John G. Hartness
I knew I was in trouble when I stepped into the grocery store. I looked over at Abby and said, in all sincerity “Remind what people eat on Thanksgiving again?”
“Well, turkey for starters” was the snotty reply from my shopping partner, a twenty-two year old newly turned vampire with a body to die for (if I wasn’t already dead) and an attitude to slit your wrists over.
“I remember the turkey, smartass. What else?”
“Jeez, Jimmy, how long have you been dead again? There’s stuffing, ham, cranberry juice, rice, gravy, biscuits, casseroles, desserts, Oh my God, the desserts! I’d almost forgotten the desserts!” She was leaning on the shopping cart writhing an a not-unpleasant way that was probably a lot more distracting to the live patrons of the store than it was to me.
“Stop that, you’re scaring the mortals.” I shouldered her aside and took the cart, heading towards the back of the store and the first mission – turkey.
“I was not!” Abby protested, but fell into step beside me. “Are you sure we can’t eat? Not even just a little pumpkin pie?”
“It’s not a good idea.” I remembered my first meal after turning, how everything tasted like sawdust and then upset my delicate digestive system for days. Even though our new place had multiple bathrooms, I didn’t wish that kind of suffering on anyone, dead or alive.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen? I’m already dead, after all!” So I told her, in extreme graphic detail, the worst that could happen. She turned even paler than normal, then shifted to a lovely shade of green before running into the restroom at the back of the store.
I parked the cart at the meat department and walked down the aisle looking at the different flavors of pre-cooked turkeys available for purchase. Cajun turkeys, smoked turkeys, spiced turkeys and Honeybaked Ham turkeys. The last one confused me a little. I wasn’t sure if it was a ham-flavored turkey, a turkey-flavored ham, or just a normal turkey-flavored turkey made by Honeybaked Ham people. Regardless I picked up the smallest turkey-style turkey that I could find. After all, only three of our six-person dinner party could actually eat food, so it’s not like Greg and I would be making a lot of turkey and O-Negative sandwiches.
By the time I’d picked up the cranberry sauce, Abby was back beside me, glaring at me every now and then for making her go barf. I was just pleased to share the misery. We picked out the rest of the supplies for our feast in relative silence, then I stopped dead in the middle of the dairy department.
“What now?” Abby asked, giving me a petulant look that she had perfected in her life as an adorable college coed. That life had come crashing to an end a few months ago at the hands of a visiting vampire, and now Abby was as (un)dead as I was. Her last confrontation with her maker didn’t turn out so well for the older vamp, so I kept the volatile young woman at arm’s length when she started tossing around nasty looks.
“Do you know if the stove works?”
“Yes. I checked it before we left tonight.”
“Do we have any pots and pans?”
“God, you’re really bad at this, aren’t you?”
“Cut me a little slack, Abby, I’ve been dead almost as long as I was alive, and I wasn’t exactly the most responsible person even when I was still human.” She must have seen something in my face, because she let that one slide. I’m not usually an angsty vampire, but sometimes, holidays in particular, it kinda sucks being dead and having abandoned most of the people that knew you when you were alive. That’s why this dinner was so important – there would be more people there than just me & Greg for the first time in a bunch of years. Sabrina Law, my almost-on-my-luckiest-day girlfriend and police detective with the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department and Father Mike Maloney, our best childhood friend, were joining Greg, Abby and I for dinner. We’d invited Bobby, our blood vendor from the morgue, but he was spending time with his family, all of whom were alive and unlikely to look upon him as an appetizer.
Abby nodded silently and took over cart-pushing duties while I fretted over the last few things on the list. Did I want to make fresh cranberry sauce or canned? After a brief but heated debate with Abby, I settled on canned. There’s just something a little charming about the gelatinous mass of cranberry sauce jiggling on a plate, still sporting the indentions from the side of the can. We finished up the last remnants of the shopping and headed to the front of the store. It was pretty close to deserted, there not being many people loading up on canned goods and milk at four AM the night before Thanksgiving. But when you’re the living dead you have certain restrictions on your movement that humans don’t have, and you end up becoming familiar with all sorts of places at all sorts of atypical times.
Even for the middle of the night, the front of the store was sparsely manned. I only saw one cashier working, no bagboys, and one pudgy twenty-something assistant manager leaning on the Customer Service counter. He had his phone in his hands and sported the studious look of a man very intent on an epic Angry Birds session. I walked over to the cashier and started unloading the cart onto the conveyor belt. I looked over the items and glanced back at Abby.
“I don’t think Hershey bars were on the list.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. These are not the candy bars you are looking for.”
“I’m not looking for any candy bars, and yet here they are. And don’t try to Jedi mind trick me. You know you can’t eat those, right?” She pouted a little, and I heard a little hmph from the cashier.
I looked at her and caught her giving me the kind of look that female grad students give to clueless frat boys right before they launch into a lecture on feminism. I raised my hand to her before she could start and jerked a thumb back at Abby. “Lactose intolerant. If she eats milk chocolate she farts like a basset hound. It’s amazing. Last time she ate a bowl of ice cream she blow out three windows in the kitchen.”
Abby threw a can of peas at my head, but I heard them moving through the air and caught them before I got a concussion. I put the last of our groceries on the belt and asked for plastic bags, pulling out a wad of cash that my dinner entree had been carrying around. I mentioned that on this holiday I was particularly thankful for muggers with lots of cash and not too much crystal meth in their bloodstream. Meth does nasty things to vampire teeth, too, so I was glad the thug I’d had for dinner was pretty straight-edge.
I saw the cashier’s eyes go wide a second before I heard the shotgun go off, so I had just enough time to reach over the counter and knock her to the ground when the gun went off. I ducked between the aisles and reached into my boot for my Ruger LCP. Which I immediately remembered was sitting on my bedside table, because what could happen, it’s a ten-minute trip to the grocery store in the middle of the night. I’m sometimes not the sharpest fang in the jaw, okay?
“Are you packing?” I hissed back at Abby.
“No, I didn’t think I’d need a gun in the produce section. You?”
“No, I picked today to give up on my general pessimism towards the human race.”
“Great timing.”
“Yeah, right. Can you check on the cashier? I kinda knocked her down a little.”
“A little?” Came a third, and indignant, voice. “You shoved me into the middle of next week. You’re strong for a skinny little dork!” I looked around and saw the cashier’s head poking out of the end of the aisle.
“Thanks, I think.” I replied dryly. “You wanna get back under cover before or after you get shot?” Her head snapped back behind the conveyer belt, and I glanced back at Abby. “Keep her alive.” I whispered, then I stood up.
The sound of shell racking into the chamber of a twelve-gauge shotgun is unmistakable, and that’s the first thing I heard when I stood up. Much to my chagrin, the sound was much closer than I had expected. Therefore, so was the gun. I looked over about ten feet from the end of my aisle and there stood our robber du jour. He looked pretty comfortable with the shotgun, but didn’t look like he’d robbed many grocery stores. He looked more like he’d been out hunting for his Thanksgiving turkey the old-fashioned way and decided to knock over a Piggly Wiggly on the way home.
“Hey.” I said, holding my hands out where he could see I was unarmed.
“Hey.” He said back, pointing the shotgun at my head. I knew from recent experience that a well-placed load of buckshot could in fact kill a vampire, because it can blow a head clean off a body, thus counting for decapitation. So I didn’t want to do anything that would end up with me dead. Um, deader. Or really dead. You get the idea.
“Can I help you with something?” I started moving slowly towards him, trying to keep my body between his line of sight and where Abby was hiding, and hopefully coming up with a better plan than the one I was currently exercising.
“Get me the money from the cash register! And the safe!” He ended each sentence with a jab in my general direction of the shotgun. I made my way to the register and looked for a NO SALE button. No luck.
“How do I open this thing?” I whispered to the cashier, who was curled up behind my knees.
“You need a manager’s keys.” I looked around, but the fat manager kid was nowhere to be seen.
“We’ve got a little problem there,” I said to the man with the gun. “You see, it takes a manager’s keys to open the register, and I’m not a manager. In fact, I don’t even work here.” I chuckled a little, giving the whole thing my best we’ll laugh at this later vibe, but he didn’t laugh along with me.
He aimed the shotgun straight at me and gave me a cold look. “Then you better find a manager real fast, or I’m going to spread pieces of you all over the front of this store.” Bingo. As soon as he made eye contact, I locked gazes with him and started pouring mojo into him.
I looked at him confidently and said “You do not want to hurt anyone. Put the gun down and lie down on your stomach.”
He looked at me like I was crazy and replied “I don’t want to hurt anybody, but if I don’t get some money in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to shoot you in the face.” Crap. Either my mojo was on the fritz, or Greg’s latest theory was right – that mojo didn’t work when the subject was under a big load of adrenaline. Or he was one of the rare people my mojo just didn’t work on, like Sabrina. But the adrenaline thing made more sense.
I held up my hands and started toward him, slowly. “Okay, but the last place I saw the manager was over at Customer Service. He’s probably run halfway to Charleston by now, but if he dropped his keys, they’ll be back there.”
He waved the shotgun towards the counter. “Go get ‘em.”
I never took my eyes off him as I made my way to the counter, trying to keep the counter and Abby in my peripheral vision the whole time. It worked like most things in my life, which is to say not at all, because I tripped over a buggy and went ass over teakettle about eight feet from the Customer Service desk. I went down in a gangly tangle of spiky hair, black jeans and polished chrome, making enough noise to raise the dead. If I wasn’t already risen.
Abby, being the smarter of our duo, took the diversion as an opportunity and sprang up from her hiding spot in the checkout aisle and chucked a can of cranberry sauce at Shotgun Guy’s head. He turned back to her just in time to get a shot off before the can caught him right between the eyes and sent him reeling to the floor. Abby jumped for the sky and the shotgun blast passed harmlessly under her. Well, harmless to her. A bunch of magazines about Demi and Ashton’s divorce and the Dancing with the Stars finale got blown to shreds, and her box of Hershey bars was pretty well destroyed.
I untangled myself from the shopping cart and walked over to the prone robber. I kicked the shotgun away from him and searched him for any sign of another weapon. Seeing her was clear, I tied his hand behind his back with his own shoelaces and mojo’d the manager kid into thinking the cashier had taken him down with no help from anyone. Abby bespelled her into thinking the same thing, and then erased our transaction from the register. I blew the surveillance tapes to bits with the shotgun, loaded the groceries into the buggy, and headed towards the car.
“Abby, did we just steal our Thanksgiving dinner?” I asked as I put the last bag in the trunk.
“Well, you can look at it two ways. One, you were going to pay for it with stolen money in the first place. Or two, it was our just reward for a good deed. But yeah, if you wanna be honest about it, we did.”
“I think your moral compass points north less often than mine does.”
“Says the soulless undead creature of the night with the priest best friend and a cop girlfriend. You’re a CW show waiting to happen, so don’t give me any crap, pal.” I slid behind the wheel and drove us home in silence, deciding that sometimes discretion really is the better part of valor.
*****
The next night about eight, after everyone laughed their way through the story of our shopping trip and Greg hacked the NFL network to get the game, we all settled in for dinner. Greg, Abby and I had glasses full of nice, thick blood, while Mike and Sabrina had plates loaded down with the grub we’d all spent much of the early evening preparing. It had been a good night, nobody new was dead, Sabrina had brought her cousin Stephen and his husband Alex to the party, and I stood to propose a toast.
“Tonight, I’m thankful for all of you. For old friends and new, you guys are the reason I get up every night to do what I do. You all make my world a better place, and I thank you for it.” A chorus of “hear, hear” and “you’re such a dork” rose from my friends, and I sat down to drink while they enjoyed dinner.
Sabrina suddenly grabbed her jaw and yelped. “Ow!” She spit something hard out into her plate, and Abby and I shared a look as a stray piece of birdshot plinked off of Sabrina’s plate. Then we all just looked at each other and laughed.
