It was the middle of the night, and I was crouched in a damp, smelly field waiting for something the happen. This wrapped a lot of my least favorite things all up in a nice little ball of suck for me to gnaw on. I hate waiting. I’m a man of action, as they say. I like to do stuff, not wait around to do stuff. Now I’ll admit that some of the stuff I do sucks, like chasing down zombies, or werewolves, or fighting witches or ghouls or vampires or pretty much anything else that goes bump in the night. But it’s a damn sight more entertaining than sitting around waiting for something to show up for me to kill. Especially when I don’t know what I’m waiting on. Waiting to me just seems like a great big waste of my precious drinkin’ time.
I hate being wet, too. I’m a big dude — six-five and a good bit past three hundred pounds. And every damn inch is covered with hair. I got a ponytail that hit me halfway down my back, a beard that reaches almost down to my chest, and a pretty good suit of man-fur everywhere else. I ain’t one of these billboard pretty boys that’s got nowhere for a tick to hide on their cute little manscaped six-pack abs. I got a whole great big fuzzy pony keg of a belly, and that all makes it pretty uncomfortable when I’m rolling around in the cold damp grass. And it takes forever and about three big towels to dry off. I tell you, it’s just irritating.
And as much as I am a bonafide country boy, I’m not a big fan of the smells of nature, if you know what I mean. And this field was full of some impressively natural smells. I much prefer the kind of smells that come from a bottle. Like the sweet, soothing smell of Jack Daniels. Or the glorious lavender-scented cloud of stripper perfume. I once heard a fella say “they call it Destiny, but it smells like shame.” I disagree. It smells like the hopes and dreams of desperate men and women smart enough to take advantage of them. I love strippers, they have an uncomplicated view of life. You give them money, they show you boobies. I have a similarly uncomplicated view of life — monsters need to be killed, I kill ‘em.
And that’s why I was stuck in a damp, smelly field in the middle of the night miles away from the scent of whiskey or the sight of a boob. I had a monster to kill, and as long as the critter was playing shy, I was stuck out there freezing my ass off and bitching to Skeeter over the Bluetooth. Skeeter’s my backup, my technical liaison, my navigator and my best friend. He’d appointed himself my best friend since the day I kept Jason Skoonfield from running his underpants up the flagpole in middle school. I probably wouldn’t have stopped Jason from having a little bit of innocent fun, but since Skeeter was still wearing his underpants I thought that was a little over the line. So me and Skeeter struck up an unusual alliance. I kept him from getting killed for being the only black kid in our school, not to mention the only gay kid and the smartest kid in three counties, and he made sure I passed algebra and got out of high school. Even the principal thought it was a fair trade. He was pretty tired of replacing all the desks that couldn’t hold me, and he didn’t want to deal with the paperwork if Skeeter ended up dead. So he didn’t ask about my grades, and I didn’t tell.
“Skeeter, you remember when Jason Skoonfield was gone run your drawers up the flagpole in tenth grade?” I asked the air.
Skeeter’s disembodied voice came back in my ear. “It was one of the most traumatic experiences in a traumatic youth, Bubba. Of course I remember it. It may have been the pinnacle of my humiliation in that vile institution they called a school. Why do you bring that up now?”
“You know I get all philosophical-like when I’m stuck out here smelling cowpies and staring up and the stars. You ever wonder where we’d be if I hadn’t stopped Skoon and his buddies?”
Skeeter’s voice got very quiet. “I do, Bubba. Sometimes I do, but I try not to think about that too much. And you shouldn’t either, we’ve got a job to do.”
I knew where he was going, and it wasn’t a road I wanted to go down right then. Or ever, for that matter. I looked down at the glowing face of the child’s Mickey Mouse watch and thought back to happier days. Then I gave myself a shake and answered Skeeter. “Yeah, but what the hell is the job, Skeeter? I’m freezing off my danglies out here and ain’t heard nothing all night.”
“You know the monster’s been feeding every third night, and this is the only herd that hasn’t been attacked this month. So if there really is a chupacabra somewhere around here, this is the best spot to find it.”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty damn good spot to get a frostbit sack, too.” I grumbled. “You got it easy, sitting there in your nice warm little command center. Remember, I was on a lake just a few days ago in flip-flops and no shirt, and supposed to be there for another four days. Instead, I’m fully dressed in long pants, a leather jacket and a sweater and I’m still freezing my ass off!”
I heard a sharp intake of breath as Skeeter started to reply, but I cut him off with a hiss. “Shut up, I think I hear something.” There was a rustling sound coming from the fenceline a few feet away. I crept over in the direction of the sound and suddenly realized that the source of the sound was a cow. I got to within three feet of the beast before I could make out its shape in the moonless night, then I scrambled backwards as quickly as I could as the cow unleashed the most terribly stench I’d ever experienced right in my face.
“Skeeter you sonofabith a cow just farted on me!” I screeched into the earpiece, trying to get away from the cloud of methane that was wrapped around my head. I heard Skeeter laughing uncontrollably in my ear as I worked hard not to vomit.
“You know I’m gonna kill you when I get out of here, right?”
“I don’t make the assignments, Bubba, I just send you the emails.” He sounded dangerously close to hyperventilating, and I was dangerously close to walking off the job when I heard the scream.
If you’ve never heard a goat scream, you should do everything in your power to keep it that way. It’s a sound like nothing on earth, kinda like a mix of a human scream with a deeper tone than any human can make, and it can carry for miles. It chilled me to the bone, and put my butt in gear. I started running for the sound, drawing Bertha, my fifty-caliber Desert Eagle as I went after the monster. When I got there, I stopped dead in my tracks at the scene in front of me.
This was not what I had come here to hunt.

I’m still having a great time working on the Black Knight Omnibus (out this summer!) and Black Knight IV – Paint it Black (out late summer/early fall). I’m learning a ton through the process of working with this publisher and editing team, and I’m sure there’s more to come. We’re polishing all three of the early Black Knight novels, brushing up on some continuity things I screwed up the first time, cleaning up some bad writing habits that I had in Book 1 that I’ve worked my way out of by Book 3, and generally making the books tighter, cleaner and better. I think there will be enough new going on in the Omnibus that even if you’ve read all the books, you’ll find something fun in there. And I’m trying to figure out what kind of little bonus content I can put into the Omnibus for the folks that buy it – maybe an exclusive short story or something like that.

That sound? That was my editor’s head esploding from the concept of editing another short story from me in addition to the revisions on THREE NOVELS in time to make the release dates for this omnibus . That’s what writers do, we don’t just torture our characters and readers, we torture our editors, too. Love ya!

But I haven’t forgotten the Bubba fans. I’m halfway through the next Bubba short, and it should be finished, polished and uploaded THIS WEEK. I make no promises when this week, but Bubba the Monster Hunter: Hall & Goats will hit before April leaves us, I swear it. And I’ve got more Bubba news – next month you’re going to get more Bubba than you can shake a stick at (I’ve never understood that phrase). Not only will I do a new May Bubba short story, but that will give me four Bubba stories since I released Monsters Beware. That means it’s time for a new four-story Bubba Collection! And with eight Bubba stories under my belt, I think it’s time for a Bubba the Monster Hunter PRINT COLLECTION!

That’s right, kids. Come find me at a con in June or July – ConCarolinas, HeroesCon, Fandom Fest or LibertyCon – and I’ll have a Bubba the Monster Hunter print collection available! I’ll also have print copies of Genesis at those cons, because I’m going to spend May holed up in my office editing, formatting and writing. When I’m not in a theatre, but anyway.

So that’s the news that’s printed to fit for today. See you in the funny books!

I love being a Fantasy writer. What a fun genre to write in. I’ve attempted to write Crime…and I can do a downright awesome beginning, but blimey, I cannot get past that. Hats off to J.D. Robb and those other folks that write Crime, like Richard Castle. What? He’s not real? Oops, my bad. (Nathan Fillion, you’re real to me

I’ve been writing stories since I was…ten or eleven (we will NOT say how long ago that was…but I will say I wrote them on an electric typewriter.*shudders*) and I’ve been often told, “Write what you know.” So, when I was redoing my series, Living Dead Girl, a few years ago I set them in the Goth/Industrial scene seeing as I’ve been in that since 1989 (*cough cough* please don’t do the math). We used to always joke that the real vampires could hide in the goth/industrial scene easily since so many “posers” and “wannabes” were there, no one would know the difference. Thus the background for my series was born.

Originally, my series was going to be this love story between a vampire and a witch. Then I set the book down to finish college, become a teacher, run a theatre company, move to NYC, and produce theatre. But one New Years I made a resolution to finish it. As I reworked it, the characters took over. Atlanta fell in love with someone else, the primary plot changed, and I was stuck sitting there going, “Where did my original story go?” Then I thought, “Who cares?”

From that point on I’ve written without an outline. I just let the characters take me on a journey. From what I understand, this is not normal practice. And, it very likely is why I have to do a lot of revision and cuts, but I enjoy the adventure my characters take me on.

That journey got a wakeup call one day when a YA vampire movie, that shall not be named, was all people could talk about. I worried, “What if it’s my story?” So, on a Friday afternoon off, I went to see said movie the day it opened (I was one of 4 in the theatre) and saw that it was NOT my story, not by a long shot. HOWEVER, it made me realize…someday it might be. If I wanted my story out there, I needed to take my dreams seriously.

I sat down to finish The Betrayal (the first book in The Living Dead Girl Saga) and began to shop it around. I told myself I had two years to get a bite on this book or I’d consider going to grad school. Thankfully, I did get a bite, and in October of 2011, Eirelander Publishing released The Betrayal as an e-book. The second book of the saga, Shattered, is in edit now, and hopefully will hit e-book “stores” this summer!

Speaking of October, I was lucky enough to be interviewed at NYC Comic Con this October by the talented and lovely Ana Catris (Link to Interview: http://is.gd/sIbCn1 ). The audience of that online publication is primarily Young Adults. Now, my books fall under the 17+ age range so I’m not used to getting YA feedback. So I asked Ana what they had to say. She told me that they felt the interview made me sound normal, like anyone else they would know, giving them hope for their own writing. That made me supremely happy to hear.

If you have a dream, be it writing, theatre, dance, drawing, graphic design, etc. You should go forth and do it! If you have an original idea, let the world know about it! Have the confidence in yourself. I didn’t have that confidence for ten years and this book sat printed on paper, in a drawer, bouncing about with me from SC, to NC, to NYC. And thankfully I saw that sparkling vampire movie, because it put a boot on my ass…and my simple “love story” became a story of self discovery, strife, love and standing up for what’s right. It’s an adventure not only for those who read it, but for me as well. I couldn’t be happier.

I pray that you pursue what you love. It makes all the difference.

Take care and happy writing! If you are interested in asking me anything…find me on Twitter…I lurk there often! Username: @tamsinsilver

xo

Tamsin J

P.S. If interested, you can snag an e-copy of my book by going to my website: www.tamsinsilver.com and if you don’t have an e-reader, the book will be out in print through Amazon Print On Demand by the end of March, 2012.

For fun, if you like my characters, there are pictures of them here: http://tamsinsilver.com/photogallery-2.php as well as info on each of them on my blog: http://tamsinsilver.blogspot.com/

So far this week I’ve -

Finished and submitted a short story to a steampunk anthology

Finished the novella about the teenage assassin, Cindy Slaughter (now a nickname based on your preferences)

Gotten to within spitting distance of finishing the rough draft of Black Knight IV: Paint it Black. I’m well into Act III of the book at this point, and expect to be done with it before I fly to Vegas next Friday.

Written more words of fiction than I did in all of March. Not that my word count for April is impressive (about 22K so far), but March sucked out loud, what with travel and illness and all that jazz.

Finally gotten around to listing the Big Bad anthology with Duotrope. If you’re a writer and you’re submitting work to anthologies and magazines, Duotrope is the best resource in the world. And now that I’ve listed the anthology on there, I’ve gotten more submissions in 48 hours than I did in the first 12 weeks submissions were open.

Gotten back to reviewing submissions for Red Dirt Review. I’d gotten ahead, then gotten behind again. Now I’ll spend time this weekend catching up.

Registered for the NAB conference so that I can get this marketing business rolling.

Edited a revision of Genesis that I should have done before I put the book on sale. But I suck, so that didn’t happen.

Planned out bad guys for the next dozen or more Bubba stories, insuring that I have no BS writer’s block excuse to keep me from churning words with that character.

Started planting the seeds for a longer Bubba story, or at least a bigger arc that explains how he came to be a Monster Hunter, what makes him the way he is, and why he likes strippers so much. But really, there are pretty obvious reasons he likes strippers. They’re called boobs.

Next on the plate is dealing with COBRA, getting a crown on one tooth (yay!), dealing with cashing out my 401(k) (yes, I know the penalties, but I also know what I make and how long it will take for my income to catch up to my expenses, so cashing out the 401(k) is a big part of this career change plan, and getting on the artist’s calendar to get my phoenix tattoo finished up.

Then I go to Vegas next Friday. Lemme know if you’ll be there then, we should grab a drink.

Given the advent of convergent media and their impact on the world of publishing, these days, editors and writers agree that the contemporary short story market is much like the seemingly amorphic colossus described in “The Blind Men and the Elephant.” More explicitly, whereas groups or individual gatekeepers and creatives get the gist of some aspects of this bold, new bazaar, no one understands this souk in its entirety.

Contemporary social expectations have evolved alongside of contemporary telecommunications, too, in a race to determine not who has the most toys, but, furthermore, whose toys are the shiniest. In simple terms, burgeoning innovation has complicated the industry. Championship, to a significant degree, has become a guessing game. It seems, nowadays, that it’s better to be morphed into a gelatinous wildebeest, transported to Planet Nine, or else exposed to outer world experiences than to win a Pushcart Prize or National Endowment for the Humanities monies. Fortunately, feelings are not facts.

What continues to be true is that “the rules” have been vaporized. In their place sit poorly fitting literary brannocks. At the same time as meagerly fashioned fluff rules “popular,” i.e. mass market publications, the literary and the pulp markets, the publishing world’s extremes, respectively, are shifting. No longer do writers sell only science-based speculative fiction. Instead, we sell an array of imaginary stuff including, but not limited to: alternate history, bizarre fiction, cross-genre fiction, cyberpunk, slipstream fiction, soft science fiction, steam punk, and weird tales.

Despite this upheaval in what constitutes content fit to be marketed, we writers, and the folk who befriend us, remain motivated to broadcast patterned words. Presently, electronic and audio venues vie with traditional print forums for the best short fiction. Roll call URLs such as Ralan’s SpecFic & Humor Webstravaganza and Duotrope’s Digest  help established and emerging writers, alike, find homes for their short works.

When assessing the short story market, in addition, it behooves us to appreciate that writers are no more likely to make a living being word players today than we were ten or one hundred years ago. Most short stories authors sagaciously keep their day jobs. Despite the fact that odd ducks, because of merit, fortune, or both, make five and six digits on works issued by traditional presses, by print on demand presses, or by vanity and self-publishing presses, most skilled folk are happy to get, if not membership in SFWA, then bylines at respectable locations.

All things considered, even the end that is peer recognition is not freely given.  Half of the problem is the tonnage of garbage that gets mindlessly submitted to people populating mastheads (I can vouch for this phenomenon since I edit for Bound Off and for Bewildering Stories). Many newbies, but also a good per cent of older, cantankerous sorts, think it costs nothing for them to submit, at the touch of their keypad, work to multiple outlets, and to do so simultaneously; they forget someone has to read the received work.

The other half of the problem is the half-baked efforts offered up by otherwise good writers coupled with the diminishing energies available from good periodicals’ exhausted staffs (see above for the rationale for droopy masthead members). Although getting published takes more than a roll of the dice, it can be very confounding either to find a welcome mat or to find work worth welcoming.

What’s more, not each and every published morsel is created equally. I remember, during my stint as a literary critic at Tangent, feeling loss at the nearly formulaic, i.e. safe for sales, nature of most of the stories that managed to squeak onto the pages of renowned magazines. Fortunately, we have places as Critters.org, where “the best and the brightest,” alongside of newcomers unafraid of risks, send their work for peer feedback. I’ve enjoyed proportionately more of that latter group of manuscripts, bumps, warts, and so forth, then the methodically published, albeit technically “well written” stuff splat on the big guys’ pages.

Auxiliary to the aforementioned, in publishing, as in many other industries, the socio-economic activity of networking counts. Publishers who enjoy their authors’ work often open back doors for them. Less frequently, but more astonishingly, publishers invite their favorite writers to contribute tales. In my own modest experience, I’ve enjoyed both modes of getting my writing into print. I’m disinclined, however, to name where I enjoy such accommodations.

Related to the boons of networking are the drawbacks of scams. From publishers who insist that their naïve contributor must buy copies of anthologies, in which those writers’ work is presented, to broadcasters who create unrealistic literary contests, money is being made from the energies of innocent writers. Watchdogs such as Preditors [sic] and Editors and such as Absolute Write Water Cooler exist, yet writing remains a “sellers beware” business.

More exactingly, we live in a span during which base individuals have no compunction preying on we creatives’ longing for success. Just as labdanum was produced mainly for the perfume industry, but was used, by unscrupulous sorts, as an adhesive for royalties’ fake facial hair, Internet opportunities have both multiplied writing outlets and have attracted hoards of nasties. It’s of small wonder that some writers prefer to obsess over pretend beasts than to struggle to get our short works to audiences.

Nonetheless, in the end, we writers can’t help but respond to our urge to reveal, to scrutinize, and to gather together fantastic moments, no matter the state of the publishing industry, specifically, or of the economy, in general. Writers write and will often do amazing things to make sure that their readers can read.

As for me, I confess to continuing to be incorrigible when it comes to generating texts. Happily, my gatekeepers and readers encourage me to do more of the same. To wit, my latest book, Don’t Pet the Sweaty Things, published by Bards & Sages Publishing, was born.

When readers find that their work day has diminished their endorphins, that they need a new reason to slip under the covers with a flashlight, or that they simply want to laugh a loud, a bit more, they ought to open Don’t Pet the Sweaty Things. This book’s anthropomorphic tales are populated with: spacelings, with anxiety-prone rabbits, and with literate penguins. This collection of seventy yarns includes stories of: postpartum tree hoppers with libido problems, multi-headed aliens intent on altering Earth’s fiduciary systems, couch potatoes on notice for otherworlders’ attack, and juvenile chimera chicks tilting against human culture’s prejudices. Besides being good for a few hours’ worth of entertainment, the existence of Don’t Pet the Sweaty Things demonstrates that writers can find means to broadcast their musings in this upside down, contemporary short story market.

About the Author:

KJ Hannah Greenberg has met few imaginary friends with whom she hasn’t wanted to consort. Her short, speculative fiction, particularly, blows bubbles at many addresses, including at: AlienSkin Magazine, AntipodeanSF, Big Pulp, Danse Macabre, Morpheus Tales, Strange, Weird and Wonderful, Theaker’s Quarterly Fiction, and Weirdyear. More globally, her short fiction can be found at dozens of outlets, including at: American MENSA’s Calliope, Fiction365, The Medulla Review, Pulp Metal Magazine, and Raphael’s Village. Look for her online, “Jewish” Science Fiction, writing class this May.

You are signed up for my mailing list, right? I’m still learning how to use MailChimp, but I managed to get out a promo newsletter last week about The Chosen, and some of you obviously enjoyed the reminder, because I sold twice as many copies of that novel the day after the newsletter went out than I had the rest of the month. So that was effective.

I’m also learning to use HootSuite to more effectively manage my Twitter and Facebook feeds, which will become increasingly important as some of my other ventures get off the ground later this spring. I like the interface, and I’m learning how to schedule tweets and posts so I don’t have to be at my computer all the time, which is nice. These tools will let me jam all my promotion and social media time into a shorter window, so I can write in bigger chunks. And that’s the whole goal, right?

This weekend was pretty good on that front. As my days at the job are dwindling, I decided to burn an extra vacation day and not work any more full weeks in the office, so I took Friday off. Friday I got 3,519 words in across two projects, Paint it Black and the Cindy Slaughter book. Saturday I did 4,170 words on three projects – Paint it Black, Cindy Slaughter and mostly on the new Bubba story. And yesterday I got 2,685 words in on the new Bubba story and Paint it Black. I haven’t titled the Cindy Slaughter book or the new Bubba story yet, hopefully I’ll finish the story tonight and have it available for purchase before the end of February.

Yes, I know it’s tight. Thank god for Leap Year. I also still have revisions on Genesis that I’m working on, and I’d like to have that finished soon after getting the Bubba story out the door.

This weekend is StellarCon in High Point – I have three panels, a reading and a signing, so there’s plenty of chances for folks to come by and say hello. If you’re in the neighborhood, please stop by.

And here’s a little more of my music to write by – The Dirt Drifters. I’m loving these guys right now.

The honest answer is…I don’t know. Working with a publisher is a different beast, y’all. For the first time it’s not just my book that somebody (me) is thinking about. They’ve got a calendar, and I know Book 4 is on there, but I don’t know what the release date looks like. I know when my first draft is due (March 31). And I think that I’ll make that deadline, but it’ll be tight. I can already tell that this book will be a little darker, probably a bit longer, and will feature all your favorite characters from the first three books. I’m at around 20,000 words right now, or about 1/3 of the way through a typical Black Knight Chronicles book. And I’m not sure I’m more than 1/4 of the way through the story, so that makes me think it might run longer. But I’ve been wrong before. I thought the same thing about Knight Moves, and it ended up shorter. I’m learning a lot working with a developmental editor for the first time. She’s kicking my ass about plotting and making sure everything paces out right, that I lay the groundwork for things early in the book that I want to use later in the book, and stuff like that. So I’m getting everything out of the traditional publishing process that I’d hoped for so far. Now for the money truck to back up to my door…

But I don’t know when Book 4 will drop, and as soon as I know something, I’ll let you guys know.

What I do know is that we’ll have a new Bubba story each month (on average, I might have to double-dip in March to make up for February), and sometime in the spring we’ll have the Cindy Slaughter novel/novella. I can’t tell how long it’s going to be yet. I’m at 20,000 words in that one and have just gotten to the start of Act 2, so it might end up being a full-blown novel as well.

Then this summer I’ll have Book 2 of Return to Eden, I promise. I think that series is going to be a one book per year kinda thing, though, so it might be 2013 before I wrap it all up.

Book 5 of Black Knight Chronicles is due to Bell Bridge the end of September, so that’ll take up the summer to write, along with the Bubba stories, and I might work on Book 3 of Return to Eden when I finish it, or I might hammer on another project or two that I’ve been kicking around in the back of my head.

So while I don’t know when you’ll see the next Black Knight book, I know there will be a Bubba story this month (or two next month, I promise), the Cindy Slaughter book late spring, Return to Eden 2 in the summer, and more Bubba stories to keep you laughing at my gun porn all year round. A few people have asked if Bubba is going to get his own novel, and the answer for now is “no.” Bubba’s a fun diversion between books, and a way to blow off steam, but I haven’t built enough backstory yet for him to get his own novel. It might happen, but almost certainly not in 2012. There might be a Bubba origin story next year, but we’ll see how I feel about the Cindy Slaughter book when it’s done, and whether or not I want to play around in that universe any more.

So there’s a little ramble on what I’m working on. Currently two books at the same time, which is working well, but I don’t think I want to try to hop between three. That’s why there might not be a February Bubba story, but I’ll get back on track someday, I promise. Like in a couple weeks when I quit the day job!

In other news, I’ve decided to open Falstaff Books up to other authors. Currently I’m looking at working with playwrights, but that might broaden to general fiction writers in the future.

I was sitting here looking at a blank screen thinking Shit. I have nothing new to say. So what else is new? I haven’t had anything new to say on this blog forever. I’m busy. I’m writing. I’m rehearsing. I’m writing. I’m rehearsing. Ad Nauseum.

Then it hit me – sometimes it’s not easy to write. Last night and this past weekend was a fine example of that. I wrote nothing on Friday or Saturday despite having both days off from the day job (5 weeks and counting!), but I decided that between the day job and rehearsal, I was going to give myself permission not to write if I didn’t feel like it. But Sunday that shit had to be over. I went to my parents’ to celebrate their birthdays (their birthdays are three days apart, so we celebrate them together), and got in a little writing before we left. I only got a little over a thousand words down, but it felt like I’d written 5,000 by the time I was done.

Then last night was more of the same. I wrote a little over 2,300 words, but it felt like 10,000. My writing muscles are rusty after writing practically nothing for a couple of weeks due to other commitments. But that’s kinda the deal – if you’re going to pursue this in any professional capacity, there will be days that you don’t feel like writing. Tough shit. It’s hard to sit there staring at an accusing blank screen, but that’s the job. People pay me to write things – books, stories, articles. And I love writing. But some days I just want to play Skyrim all day. And pretty soon, I won’t have anyone to answer to but myself (and my editor for some project, but usually just me and my bank account). So I’m learning to put my butt in the chair even when I don’t want to, and knock the rust off that’s built up in a month of playing theatre again. I think it will be easier to do shows when writing is my day job, and I’m not juggling three different things all at one time, but we’ll see.

Tonight is Valentine’s, so I’ll probably lose most of my writing time again, but Suzy and I have spent precious little time together this year, so it’ll be worth it. It just means I have to work that much harder Wednesday night to catch up, and to keep the rust from getting too thick on my typing fingers.

Instead we’ll recap some of January. It’s been a very good month for sales, surpassing December’s numbers and putting an end to the slight downward slide overall sales will likely be higher than any point since October, and several of the new titles are performing well. There hasn’t been any kind of bump from KDP Select yet, but I don’t start with any of those freebies until mid-week. I’ll be reporting back on how that all goes.

The new stuff is going well so far. Monsters Beware, the Bubba collection, has sold over 100 copies in the first month, while not really eating into the individual story sales too much. Cat Scratch Fever is having a good debut week, with 24 copies sold so far, and Gone Daddy Gone and Knight (Un)Life are coming out of the gate pretty strong as well. I now have somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty titles available, most of them short works. But as I colelct more of them into full-length volumes, I think I’ll continue to see increased sales.

Everybody says “write the next book” as if it’s the Holy Grail of book marketing, and I’m here to tell you something – they’re right. You’re only as good as your last project, so you’ve got to keep the wheels turning and the ideas churning if you’re going to make it in this business. But it’s been a great January, better than January 2011 by a factor of several thousand dollars! So thanks for all your support, I couldn’t do any of this without you!

But when it comes time for some killin’, I need to amp it up a little. And really, what better for a horror writer to work with than a little Rob Zombie?