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More League Pimpage!

Now that I have strengthened my wrists by giving my professional pimp smack to Dakota Cassidy’s oeuvre, I am going to turn my palm of pimpage over to . . . Mark Henry!

For today, Mark’s first book, Happy Hour of the Damned, comes out in mass market paperback, to stores everywhere:

And I highly, highly recommend that you buy it, people. Here’s why:

A) I love Mark! He’s not only one of the wittiest, snarkiest, smartest men I know, he’s also one of the kindest. Believe it or not, snark and sensitivity can go together. So Mark’s a stand up guy, who does a LOT of the work for the League site AND lets me follow him around conventions when I’m feeling like I really can’t socialize with people in Spock ears anymore.

B) I love Mark’s books! More important, really, than Mark being a great guy is the fact that Mark writes great books. Mark could be a complete douche and I would still read his novels, because they’re AWESOME. I am now going to further bullet point this post so that I can outline Why Mark’s Books Are Awesome:

  • They’re hilarious! Yes, they’re so funny you’ll wee a little. And then he’ll have a footnote making fun of you for doing so.
  • They’re also really disturbing, and not just in a horror way. Mark writes about zombies who are super lovable, actually, on a lot of levels. Except that they eat people, and usually homeless people. As the reader, I’m like, “OMG, they’re people! She can’t eat people! That’s terrible!” But Amanda keeps insisting to us that we’re being overly sensitive, considering how we treat our homeless. And I’m all, “Excuses, excuses, Amanda!” Then I went to San Francisco for my yearly pilgrimage. And literally STEPPED OVER homeless people sleeping on the street. Because that’s what we do–we neglect our own, telling ourselves they are the Other due to their mental illnesses, or their inability to cope with reality, or their lack of get up and go. But what we’re really doing is allowing other humans to suffer, often under terrible mental and physical burdens, and when we close our doors at night we shut ourselves off and tell ourselves it’s okay to do so. By having Amanda eat the kinds of people we ignore, Mark embarks upon a project not unlike Jonathan Swift’s “Modest Proposal.” We laugh, but we think . . . and thinking is that critical first step towards action.
  • Basically, then, Mark writes my perfect books. They’re hilarious! Entertaining! They do what mass market fiction should do . . . but they’re also really smart, really provocative, and you’re not just filling your head with cotton candy.

I’ll stop bullet pointing now. The whole point of this post is that if you’re looking for a new series that is as smart as it is fun, Mark Henry’s for you. And now he’s released in mass market, which means not only a cheap price but an easier book to hold. You can read it one handed! What you do with that other hand is entirely up to you. But I wouldn’t recommend you take any tips from Amanda and experiment with Icy Hot . . . Really, Mark, Icy Hot? I’m still cringing.

Curious? Then go forth and buy people . . . Amanda Feral needs you!

Interview with Sharon Tancredi!

My lovely cover artist, Sharon, has been interviewed here. She talks about her creative process, what it takes to be an illustrator, and why she likes creating Jane True covers. Yay Sharon!

On Piracy

Up until quite recently, when I thought of pirates, I thought of pirates, with hooks for hands and mustachios and scurvy. Now that I’ve become an author, however, I’ve become acquainted with another form of piracy.

I know that piracy within the music industry  has existed for a very long time, but I was never a music pirate. First of all, I was never technologically savvy enough to really get into piracy. But I am also entirely, completely bourgeois, and the idea of doing anything called “piracy” repels me. I’ve never shoplifted; I’ve never stolen someone’s credit card; I’ve never walked off with someone’s jewelry or iPod.

That said, almost everyone else I’ve ever known has downloaded free music off the internet. They defend themselves with the following excuses: that big music studios won’t feel the loss, that artists like Britney Spears can afford to lose a few bucks, and that they will buy other songs or albums from the artist’s they really like. In other words, the pirated album is like a taste test and once they decide they like the artist, then they will pay for future works.

I never really thought much about the fact of my friend’s piracy or about their reasoning legitimating their actions until piracy became very real for me, as an author.

There is lots of talk about piracy within the book world, especially now with e-readers everywhere and downloadable copies of our books so very easy to make and to dispense. I knew piracy would be an issue for me and, indeed, almost as soon as my debut novel, Tempest Rising, was published there were copies available online.

Most of these sites are very anonymous and very . . . piratey. In other words, when I find my novel on one of these sites, I can imagine a bunch of pantalooned men sitting around hawking into spittoons and chortling as they scan copies of novels with one hand, while ravishing wenches with the other.

Then I found a site for fans of paranormal romance and urban fantasy. It’s a pretty, pink site with links to authors websites and contests, along with reviews and lots of excited discussion of new series, or new books coming out, or old books recently discovered. In other words, it’s a pretty typical fan site for readers of my genre. Only with one difference: this website also offers our novels, free for download. The authors of this site even ask those who download a book to leave a comment, to let them know that “their work was appreciated.”

My first thought was, “Oh my God, how could you! You say you’re fans of our work and then you’d steal from us?” My second thought was, “Where is my downloadable form from Hachette’s legal department, so I can get their lawyers on this shit.” My third thought, after I’d filled out and sent the required forms, and cleaned my bedroom to cool off, was, “Okay, let’s say they are really fans of our genre, as they claim. That means they are not doing this piracy to hurt us. They don’t know what their actions mean.”

That’s why I’m writing this blog post: to let the sort of people who create or utilize such websites know what they’re really doing when they pirate one of my books.

The Assumptions

I imagine that when people pirate a book, or upload a book onto a pirate site, they are thinking some of the following things: that authors make the big bucks, that “big publishing companies” are untouchable, and that all they’re doing is taking a few bucks away from the fat cats. Maybe they think they’re even doing the publishing world a favor: that by offering our books for download, they’re increasing the size of our fan-pool; or cutting out some of the wheat from the chaff so that fans won’t waste money on authors who aren’t that great or that they don’t like, meaning they will have more money for authors they do enjoy; or trimming our salaries so we don’t become rock stars who pull rock star bullshit. Instead of going nuts, having babies, and shaving our heads, we’ll stay grounded and writing books, as we should be.

The Realities

First of all, publishing houses are not untouchable monoliths. DoubleDay, Simon & Schuster, and Random House all suffered huge losses over publishing’s “Black Tuesday,” with direct losses in terms of staff, budget, and, in some extreme cases, entire imprints. When a publishing company’s budget goes, that means they can’t pay their authors, they can’t buy new books, and they can’t offer new contracts to existing authors. When an editor is lost, that means fewer new books can be bought by that company over the following year. And when an imprint goes, that means that many of the series that imprint was sitting upon will be dead in the water, unless a particular series or author has such high sales number that a different publishing company will risk buying what amounts to a defunct brand.

Secondly, writers are not Britney Spears. We are not rock stars. We are not even folk singers. If I were to tell you what my advance was for my three novels, it would sound like a huge amount of money. You’d be all, “Holy shit!” Then I’d tell you that money would be doled out over two years, not one. Then I’d tell you that my agent gets (a well deserved) fifteen percent, and that the government then takes exactly one third of that money. Then I tell you that although my publishing company is actually very good about publicizing its authors, I am still responsible for my own conventions, travel, swag, contest materials, etcetera.

In other words, what sounds like a great big sum of money becomes, quite simply, a very small salary. I estimate that this year I cleared from my writing, after taxes and all the expenditures (conferences, swag, etc), about 25,000 dollars.

Yes, my author’s salary for the year 2009 was about $25,ooo. For around $25,000, I wrote three books. Which means I wrote rough drafts, then did edits (in one case, grueling edits), copy edits, and final pass edits. I wrote back copy and front copy, and acknowledgements and dedications. I maintained a website, I blogged, I did copious interviews, I ran contests, I travelled and spoke at whatever convention would have me. I Tweeted, and Facebooked, and paid for a launch party, swag, and postage for review copies and bookplates.

To be honest, I had no idea writing was going to be this much work. And, for all of this work, I made about $25,000 dollars.

In the meantime, however, I am one of the lucky ones. I have a day job that allows me to write. As a professor, I have another salary on top of my book money. But don’t get too excited: I work for a state university in Louisiana. Which means, for all intents and purposes, I’m a Louisianan civil servant, i.e., not rolling in the dough. But I do have a salary. And, more importantly, it’s with a job that gives me time to write and, more importantly, gives me health insurance.

This is why most writers aren’t full time authors: until you are very successful (and there are only a handful of writers in America with this sort of success) you don’t make a lot of money. For keep in mind that an advance is just that: an advance on royalties. So I won’t make another penny on my first three novels until I pay back my advance. And that is going to take a very, very long time, unless a miracle (HBO series) appears on the horizon. Meanwhile, authors don’t get insurance through their publishers. We are independent contractors, meaning we get taxed out of the wazoo and if we want to see a doctor or a dentist, we pay out of pocket.

In fact, for the most part, any full-time author that you know about who isn’t Stephen King, Anne Rice, Danielle Steele, or the like is either a) married to someone who makes a decent living b) independently wealthy or c) okay with living as a starving artist.

Why Pirating Hurts Readers

Let’s say you don’t give a hoot about what I just wrote. Let’s say, for instance, you’re all, “I don’t care that author’s children can’t see a doctor, they get to be an author! that’s recompense, enough!” or “Whatever, so an author lives in a garrett and shops at the Salvation Army, s/he could get a day job! Nicole has one!” or, “It’s just one book, and I’m strapped for cash right now. One book totally doesn’t make a difference! I’ll buy the next one!”

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Let’s take the “It’s just one book,” “the company can afford it,” or “the author can afford it,” excuse.

Firstly, as a new writer, I’m judged not on my literary merit but on my sales. Every single reviewer in the country could say I was a genius; that I deserve the Nobel prize. My fans could name their babies after my characters and move, as one, to Maine to start a town called Rockabill where they will squabble over who gets to be Jane for the day. But if my numbers aren’t good enough, my publishing company won’t buy more Jane True books. And not only do I need to sell books, but I need to sell my first book. Because I’m releasing on an eight-month schedule, we’ll be negotiating for more books based almost entirely on the sale of Tempest Rising. So unless you want my series to end at number three, my first book has to sell.

Secondly, most authors can’t afford to do this job. I read a lot of reviews of books where people talk about how “so and so is just churning them out nowadays, like she/he doesn’t even care about the quality of his/her work.” What readers don’t understand is that a lot of writers are on ridiculous publishing schedules not because they don’t care, or because they’re so eager to get that jacuzzi installed in their yacht, but because they have to eat. How many individuals (let alone families) do you know who could live off a $25,000 salary?  Especially when that salary gets eaten up by covering the family health insurance, dental insurance, etcetera? Most authors cannot make ends meet on their book salaries alone, meaning that a lot of authors have day jobs that, unlike mine, are real nine to fivers.

Keeping in mind that my professorial job was created to give me some (if limited) time to write, and that last year I worked pretty much all the time with my two jobs, I can’t begin to imagine how someone with a “real” day job could write a book. Let alone if they have a family on top of everything. It just couldn’t be feasible, long term, for anybody. People will either stop writing, or they’ll start writing to make deadlines rather than writing to tell a story. And who could blame them?

In the meantime, I wish I was a rock star. I wish I had minions who I paid out of my overflowing bank account, stuffed full of the riches I earned from my books. But that’s a pipe dream. I mostly do the writing because I love it and to cut off my characters, now, would be like amputating a limb. And yet, I also need to pay my bills. At the same time, my publishing company has to know they’re not sinking money into a wasted cause.

Which is why, as a debut novelist, literally every book counts and is counted. And each of those books will add up to whether I get to write more about Jane True and her friends. So when someone reads her story, without paying their $7.99, Jane loses a vote. One vote doesn’t seem like a lot, but a lot of single votes adds up to a lot of votes, period.

And every pirated copy of my book downloaded illegally means one less chance I get to publish anything after book three. So if you enjoy reading and want to read more books, especially more debut novels by new authors, please don’t pirate. Not just for our sake, as authors, but for your sake, as a reader. For piracy skews numbers: it means that the “big” names will get bigger while less money is spent on younger talents. It means that debut novels that you enjoyed won’t be followed up by a second or a third book in the series. And it means that more authors will take on too much work, just to make a decent living.

In other words, if you have any love for books, don’t be a pirate. Or just buy an eye patch and a parrot and pretend, at home. That’s far more exciting. After all, someone will have to be the wench . . . ;-)

On Avatar…

I have quite a few weird habits, and one of them is that I love seeing movies by myself. As long as it’s not a comedy, for I like sharing the jokes with my friends, I love going to an early matinee of a film all by my lonesome. I get to have the “movie” experience, with all that visual stimulation, but then I have the rest of the day to work.

So today I went to the first showing of Avatar–IMAX and 3D, cause I’m fancy like that. And the movie? My most powerful impression is this: Avatar is totally manipulative, full of those sorts of emotional tableaux that fill Titanic, and there’s never a second when you don’t know exactly what will happen next.

That said, it’s gorgeous, nearly perfectly paced, and has some wonderful performances. It also has that element of katharsis that so many other James Cameron movies have, especially Titanic. I loathed that film. Or, I tried to. In reality, I refused to watch it for as long as I could, and then I cried my entire way through it. There are old people! Holding each other in bed as the ship goes down! They know they’re going to die, yet there they are holding one another!

Cameron knows what Hallmark learned from Aristotle: show us certain images (such as a little girl dancing with her father, then cut to that girl dancing with her dad at her wedding) and we will cry. Cameron understands the power of communal drama, of those visual cues that are nearly archetypal in their resonance, and he has no compunction about wrenching about our heartstrings. In fact, I would say that his genius is in how he pulls and pulls and pulls. It’s almost a form of chutzpah: he’s like Dylan, repeating “lay, lady, lay,” ad infinitum. Just when we think, “Holy shit, he can’t tell her to lay across his big brass bed one more time,” Dylan does. Eventually, we discover to our surprise that we want to lay across his damned bed.

Cameron does something similar. He finds very good actors and actresses, and he has them do and say the things we know deep in our bones they are going to say. We know because they’re the expected actions of villains, heroes, and heroines everywhere. We know because they’re what we would like to say, or do, or think, but usually we’re too cowardly, or petty, or busy.

Cameron gives us what we want, and–like a skilled lover–he knows that good things can only get better if they’re done with enthusiasm, confidence, and at least three times.

So I was hooked from the first few moments of the film. It doesn’t hurt that I’d sop Sam Worthington up with a biscuit, but Avatar is, quite simply, a really entertaining and worthy film. And I mean worthy in both senses of the word: it’s worthy because it’s obviously had buttloads of talent poured into it, from all sides, but also because its message is eminently worthy.

As most of you know, the point of Avatar, in a nutshell, is that humans are greedy, destructive, corrupt little monsters. You are told that from watching the previews, this is not a spoiler. After all, the point of watching a film by Cameron is not to try to figure out the surprise ending; it’s to plug yourself into the emotional ride he takes you on as he gives you the message you know is coming.

Aristotle thought this sort of emotional manipulation was important. He believed that drama could help purge humanity of emotions (both positive and negative), making them more productive, malleable members of the community. Even today, catharsis is still a concept discussed in dramatic theory, and any member of any audience will attest to the special power of viewing a production as a member of a large crowd. It’s the only reason movie theaters exist in the age of On Demand and Netflix; there’s something special about seeing a film in the company of lots of random strangers.

For me, that’s why I love seeing a film on my own. I love being a member of an audience (part of a crowd) and yet I am alone. I’m not holding anyone’s popcorn while they go to the bathroom, or checking to make sure my husband turned off his cell phone. I come in, I sit down, and before the film starts, I people watch.

Today, at the theater, I got an eyeful. It is only a few days after Christmas, after all, meaning that families who are used to the buffers of school or work have been with each other for a while. And they’re getting stabby. Parents were whining at children not to whine; children were moaning they’d rather be at home playing with their new toys.

One especially delightful gentleman–sensing the real meaning of an American Christmas–shouted from the aisle to a woman sitting in the center of the theater, “Are those seats taken?” When she responded, “Yes, they are,” he peered across the dozen or so children sitting between them and yelled:

“Bitch!”

It was wicked classy. So much so I gave him my best sarcastic clap, which was picked up by a smattering of people around me. He responded with the finger, so I gave him the British reversed peace sign. The kids next to me loved it, mostly because they appeared to think I just didn’t know how to give the finger. The oldest boy was about to correct me when his mother intervened.

Anyway, yeah, it was a rowdy crowd that went in. But going out? We were all quiet. We’d watched beautiful blue people (if bizarrely nippleless in the case of the women) fight and die for their planet, defending themselves against humans who had already destroyed their own home.

Filing past the overflowing bins full of popcorn and candy boxes, I knew that few of us were going to go home and reduce our carbon footprint. But ya know what? We all waited, patiently, to hand back our 3D glasses, despite the fact the kid kept dropping the bag. Nobody swore, or tried to push through. Then we waited in line for the bathroom, all of the ladies washing their hands reflected pleasant expressions in the mirror. And driving out of our rather stupidly-planned local theater, not a single person honked his or her horn. People even waved through those waiting to cut in, and those who were let in waved their hands in front of their rear-views, in thanks.

For a few moments, it felt almost like Christmas, the way it used to be when I was very young.

Until, on the main road, I was nearly sideswiped by someone who wasn’t looking and tried to pull in my lane. I’m no lip reader, but I could see that her response to the audacity of my existing in her path was to call me a bitch.

She should really go see a good movie.

Happy Santa Day!

First of all, let me declare one thing:

I BELIEVE!

Second of all, I might have just eaten enough pate to kill your average liver. We won’t talk about that. It was worth it.

My third, and final, bit of news is I’m two chapters away from finishing book three, Tempest’s Legacy. I’ve been working flat out, except for one day I went to the top of the ‘Cock (Hancock, that is), and a few stints to do things like read about how  ducks are committed rapists and have therefore evolved wacky vajayjays.

Don’t say I never taught you nothing!

Oh, and have a fabulous Christmas everybody. I hope the big guy treats you well.

My Holiday Reading List

First of all, I want to send huge congratulations out to LSUS’s graduating seniors! Party hearty tonight, my lovelies. You deserve it!

Secondly, I’d like to share with you a few things that have happened on the interwebz while I’ve been furiously writing. I found this blog post, in which one of my favorite writers, C. E. Murphy, admits to enjoying Tempest Rising. Maybe she’d been drinking? ;-)

I’ve also done a blog post over at Orbit Books, about how much all my fans mean to me. Please check it out and give yourselves a pat on the back. The lovely Jaye Wells has also done a fantastic spoof of the 12 Days of Christmas, which had me laughing out loud.

Finally, I’ll tell you about my Christmas plans. Over the holiday, I have to finish my third book. But once that is in, I am going to have some epic reading/relaxation time. Here’s my Holiday Book List, in no particular order:

Cherie Priest’s Boneshaker

Kelly Meding’s Three Days To Dead

Mark Henry’s Road Trip of the Living Dead

Neil Gaiman’s American Gods

And, for our January Book Club pick, Caleb Carr’s The Alienist

I also plan on seeing Avatar, Sherlock Holmes, and Ninja Assassin. That, plus some drinking, will be my vacay.

What are y’all planning to do for your holiday?

Freedom! Freedom! Of a sort . . .

Hello darlings.

I just turned in grades Monday, which means that I’m FREE! FREE!

Except for the fact I have to have my third book finished by January first . . .

So yeah. I’m writing. Like crazy. Also preparing to make the long trek home to Chicago to spend the holidays with my family.

So I will blog, for real, soon. But in the meantime, for those of you who didn’t make it over to Bitten By Books (shame on you!) for my online release party, here are the vlogs I did for those rose-nubbin’ lovin’ Bitten By Bookers . . .

Vlog One (The Intro)

Vlog Two (The Reading)

Enjoy! And see y’all on the flip side. . .

And the Wiener is!

The CONTEST CAN HAS SPOKENIMG_0253

Or, as my friend has encouraged me to say:

I’ve pulled a winner OUT OF MY CAN!

And the winner of a copy of Gail Carriger’s Soulless and  my own Tempest Rising is MIRANDA!!!

Miranda, email me your address at iheartselkies(at)gmail(dot)com and I’ll get your copies out to you!

AND THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO PLAYED! If you enjoyed watching Jane and Alexia converse, forthcoming issues of Tart Talk will be available over at Orbit, very soon.

Over at the League . . .

Over at the League, I’ve blogged some more Things I Like!

newleaguebanner

Anya Bast KNOWS WHO I AM!

Seriously! Like, THE Anya Bast! The real one! Not the one who lives in Montana who has no clue why people keep telling her to write more books. The REAL Anya Bast!

And she read Tempest Rising! And LIKED IT! Anya writes that, “Peeler has made my auto-buy list with this fast-paced, sexy read and I can’t wait to see where she takes things from here.” Yay! You can read the whole review (and check out Anya’s generally very cool blog) here. For those of you who haven’t read her books (like, the three of you) they are WONDERFUL. So hot! So very hot!

In the meantime, I have also learned to speak fluent German. I did that last week between grading research papers and making my (Yankee! *glares*) stuffing. You can see just how fluent I am, here. The ladies who conducted this interview were LOVELY, and I think I sound very, um, Germanic when I speak German. Thanks for the interest, Germany!

I have also been lucky enough to be chosen for the December Barnes and Noble Book Club, as one of their Paranormal choices. And yes, please do insert “We always knew you weren’t NORMAL, Nicole,” jokes, here. But to thank B&N and the readers on their forum, I’m joined up and am contributing to the discussion! So please come on over to Barnesandnoble.com and partake of the shenanigans.

Finally, don’t forget the contest to win BOTH Tempest Rising and Soulless are going strong! Gail’s novel is one of my favorite reads in a long time, and I can’t praise it enough. It’s so fun, so smart, and such a pleasure to read. And you can see Jane and Alexia go head to head, right down below.

OH, and for those of you keeping score, I just sent Tracking the Tempest’s checked copyedits back to NYC. I know it seems like it’s far away, but, believe me, July will be here before we know it! And today is also my LAST DAY OF TEACHING this semester. And I’ve been grading like a Machine of Grading Creating Just to Grade, so that I can pound out the last 100 or so pages of Legacy in the next few weeks. That’s not as hard as it sounds, as I’m a plotter, and the plot for these next chapters is pretty iron clad. So yay! More books! And BREAK FOR THE HOLIDAY!  Woooo hooooo!

For my holiday, I’m going home to the Chicago area to be a hermit, interlaced with some intense partying in the city. ;-) It’s how I roll. Hermit! Intense socializing! Hermit! Intense socializing!

Anyway, are ya’ll doing anything exciting for your holiday?