This past June 15th (2019) was the fifth anniversary of the publication of Unlucky Seven.

It came and went without much ado.  Mainly because, although Amazon lists this as the date I first hit the go-button on this project, the real work did not start until October of 2014.  That is where I feel its anniversary should always be celebrated.

October 4th, 2019 was my first ever public exhibition as an author.  The Too Groovy Toy Show.  Held in a tiny church hall on Main Street in my hometown.  I split a six-foot table with my friend and fellow author Spike Bowen.  It was the first time I had personally sold a paper copy of my first run of my first novel to anyone.  I handed them a book, they handed me ten dollars.  So it began.

I didn’t even start signing them until around the third copy when my 8th grade Honors English teacher showed up, certainly not expecting to see a slacker of a student like me sitting behind a table hocking my own writing.  I think I had to borrow a pen from someone because it never even occurred to me that anyone would want a copy of my work let alone one with my scribble of a signature inside it.

[Look, I know and I have been told by more than a handful of people that the tendency toward self-deprecation in my autobiographical writing doesn’t exactly bring in the social media hits but I am describing my earliest days here and my real feelings about them, so just press on reading, it gets better.]

I sold maybe ten books that day.  I was walking home with $100 in my pocked even though I had spent quite a bit more than that just buying inventory.  The table was $20 split between Spike and I and I had spent $75 on my 24×36 bristol board cover poster.  I didn’t know what I expected.  I had purchased 25 copies of my book and thought I would be cleaned out of them by the end of the day, walking out of there some kind of hometown hero.

I went home with a bit of a bruised ego which was my own fault for setting the bar high in a setting with which I wasn’t very familiar.  I wasn’t sure if I would even bother going out with it in public again until Spike and I conspired to go to our first Steel City Con that December.

In the interim, things were flat.  I was obsessively checking Amazon every day for new purchases or reviews.  I set up my Goodreads page so that I could offer another avenue for such things.  I took time to post in forums about my writing.  I posted constantly on social media, plugging and plugging and plugging.  I even put the book up for free on Amazon — something I periodically do now but, at the time, made it feel like I was desperate.

I thought that putting my writing out there would be some sort of immediate success.  I was gullible and blind.  Mainly, blinded by my own ego.  Why weren’t more people buying?  Reading?  Reviewing?  Where were the trumpets ushering me in past the gate that I had pounded against so hard in years past trying to get someone professional interested in my work?

Amazon did very clearly state that their publishing platform did not include promotions but surely in the category my book was in it must get some sort of attention.  Surely people would come along amidst the sea of self-publishing and recognize that here was a complete and sturdy book, ready for mass consumption, and that I would be discovered sooner than any hack like Stephanie Meyer and E.L. James as the legends foretold.  My writing is better than theirs, right?  I’ll be the next superstar, right?  Let’s start casting the movie!

All this in my head, I tried to keep a level expectation to the public.  I wasn’t about to whine or complain about how poor sales were in those earliest of months.  Upbeat sells.  I knew this from my years in retail.  And so came the pitch.

Directly behind me in that church basement was a shelf full of arts and crafts supplies, likely held there for Sunday school and other children’s activities.  Realizing I had brought my giant poster but no accompanying price tags or eye-grabbing flavor text, I drew up a sign on the back of a paper lunch bag whose original purpose was likely linked to biblical hand puppets.

Fresh Hot Words – $10

This sign had grabbed a few chuckles at the toy show so, when I set up at Steel City Con for the first time (going in with the same deluded expectations of a giant amazing sell out), the sign stayed.

It wasn’t long before I realized that, despite my meager pile of books, my poster, and my funny sign that I was in Artist’s Alley.  Around me rose towers of colorful artwork of people’s favorite characters and there I sat, in the middle of all of them, with really nothing interesting to show for myself.  I could have thrown books at people and hit them in very sensitive areas, but would it even make a difference?  It would probably drive away business and maybe get me kicked out.  It wasn’t until the Saturday afternoon crowd rolled in on day 2 that I got fed up and, realizing what I could do with the sign people chuckled over, screamed for the first time:

“Words for sale!  Fresh hot words for sale!”

Heads turned away from the pretty art pieces for a moment just to look at what nutcase was screaming in the middle of a crowded place.  This was a con, after all, not an auction house.  At shows like this, people weren’t supposed to call out to the clientele or interact unless they spoke to you first.

The thing is, though, they looked.

From there it started to get more personal.  I would call out individuals.  I started to become the Carnival Barker of Row P.  I got more elaborate with my adjectives and soon my pitch became: “Fresh hot organic words for sale!  Gluten-free, non-GMO words for sale!  Free-range, farm-to-table, locally-sourced words for sale!”

I sold maybe a dozen more that weekend.  It felt so unfulfilling.  It was early in the game.  I was thinking with my wallet rather than my brain.  I wanted the fame and fortune that came with being a writer and I thought it would come immediately.  This is a thirty-three year old man honestly believing that fame was going to drop into his lap any day now that the book was public.  Looking back, I can’t believe how sadly gullible I was.

This isn’t a sob story or a pity party, though. It’s a retrospective.

Cons went on and I continued to measure my worth in numbers of books sold.  Eventually, with the encouragement of my editor, I was able to pick up and move on with the story just as I was thinking of hanging up the entire thing permanently.  Without her, I would have been lost in more ways than one.

Once the second book was in hand and people actually showed up to get one, I started to become a bit more encouraged.  It was at this point that I slowly stopped caring about the money (having long ago given up any idea of ever making the nut) and started caring more about the readers.  I might sell a dozen books over a three-day con and, while barely enough to cover meals and a bar tab, that was still two dozen potential readers.  Even if they were the book collectors who have that ever-growing pile on their nightstand, at least my books would be somewhere in the mix to be read eventually.

People always ask me at cons about what it’s like to self-publish.  They tell me they are also writers and they are working on their stories and they want to know how to do it.

My answer is always akin to this:

Writing the book and publishing it is the easy part.  It’s nothing more than importing a document and making a few clicks.  If you have anything at all written, it can be on Amazon, ready to rock and roll, in a matter of literal minutes.

There are two very hard parts, though.

One is hubris.  Leave it at the damn door.  I’m not talking about what I discussed earlier about dreams of fame and fortune.  What I mean is you, the aspiring writer, will legitimately believe that everything you have put to paper is without flaw.  You have gone over it yourself many times.  You’ve revised.  You’ve edited.  You are confident that what you’ve got is the pinnacle.  The one that will be talked about for years.

You are wrong.

I am by no means saying that you are not a good writer.  I usually don’t know you from Adam if I’m giving you this spiel.  But please trust me when I say that your eye should absolutely not be the only one on your manuscript before you make those few clicks.  There is so much you can benefit from having someone that you trust give you the brutal truth.

The first book in the Unlucky Seven series is a key example of not having an editor.  Recently, in doing some research for the writing of book three, I went back and read a few chapters of it.  Compared to my more recent efforts (enhanced by my editor) it feels like parts of it are straight hot garbage.  That’s the author talking, however, and is not necessarily a reflection of the audience’s reception of my work.  I still have confidence in every word of what I put down but I realize in retrospect that I was the very person I have given this warning to at least two dozen times.  This is experience talking, kids, trust me.

Oh, and if you get a friend to help you, please for the love of the pen, make sure they are going to be honest with you.  If you don’t have a friend, there are plenty of writing forums where you can get someone to read your stuff and give you (maybe even more) brutal honesty through the veil of the internet.  Regardless of where this comes from, be prepared for this criticism.  Yes, your thirty-five chapter fantasy novel may have taken quite some time to write and the idea that you might have to eliminate aspects from the story or blow up entire chapters or even start from bare-bones scratch may be totally horrifying, you will (not may, will) be better for it in the long run.

The original U7 took me ten years to write.  It was a 70+ chapter project I started on my LiveJournal (don’t look it up) which took years to write.  Eventually, I blew it up and started over from the beginning.  When I didn’t like the way that one turned out, I did the same.  Three times I started over.  Sure, I put it down for a while but when I came back I came back for real.  And that was just me editing myself.

My actual editor went through the Obligatory Sequel with me chapter by chapter.  As a chapter was completed, I would send it to her for an opinion.  Many chapters were blown up and started from scratch during that process.  In the end, TOS is a better book for it.

Do not let your pride goeth before your fall.

The second hard part is marketing.  We’ve talked some about this but I’d like to expand a bit just to give you the full con-level lecture.

I have noticed at the last few cons a growing number of self-published authors grabbing table space wherever they can, be it in the main showroom or in artist’s alley.  I am often curious as to the sales that they gain as, most of the time, they are sedentary and likely falling prey to the first problem I mentioned, hubris.

Just because you wrote a book doesn’t mean anyone wants to read it.  Just because you are a writer at con doesn’t mean anyone is going to stop at your table and even turn over your book to read the summary on the back.  If you even have a summary on the back (which, like, PUT A SUMMARY ON THE BACK).

Do not think that a video sizzle reel for your book is going to attract attention, either.  If you try to let something like that do the talking for you, you’re heading in the wrong direction.

If you are at con, SELL YOUR BOOK.  I do this constantly.  I have called over and pitched people who had absolutely no intention of walking out of con with more than a handful of autographs and selfies who wind up walking out with all that and a set of my books.  Engage.  Talk to people.  I know this is hard for most of us introverted writer types, but you gotta do it, as emotionally draining as it might be.  If you don’t want to talk to people, great, there are plenty of other marketing avenues for you out there but if you set up at con, expect to be social.  Demand to be social with your readers, too.  You would be surprised what a couple of quick jokes and a frank conversation will do to even the most curmudgeonly of con-goers.

Last piece of marketing advice is pricing.  Be real.  Yes, I know it took you a long time to write it.  Yes, I know you want to try to make your money back on your table and book stock and everything else (this all also falls under hubris).  It’s absolutely not going to happen if you’re selling each book for $25.  This is not Barnes and Noble and you are not Stephen King.  An average con-goer comes in with a budget.  One book for that much is not going to seem like a value to them unless they are exactly within your genre niche.  Even then, they might give you the old “I’ll think about it” and ne’er return.  I make a profit from the base sale of my books but that is only based on what I pay for them to get printed and does not take into account con costs (hotel, food, beers, etc).  First you get the readers, then you get the money.  Be patient.

If advice to others is the best I can pull out of five years of doing this, then so be it.  If you have tactics that work better, good on you.  I’m only speaking about boots on the ground sales.  Obviously I have not yet mastered the online market, so I would be open to some feedback on how to increase my numbers in that area.

My big takeaway from all of this is that it should not be about the money.  If you have to count numbers to make yourself feel good, count numbers of sales in general.  Count the readers.  Count the interactions on social media.  Count the number of people who come up to you and ask for the next one (even if you don’t have the next one yet).  Those are the numbers that matter.  Those are the most important people to your career.  Those are the most important people to your writing.

Thank you all for continuing to read my stuff and support me.

Remember that my door is always open for suggestions and feedback.

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—

It’s been a while.

I feel it necessary to apologize.  I haven’t been very forthcoming with shorts, news on the third book, or news of any kind, really.  I’m doing my fans a disservice through lack of communication and that’s not the kind of author I want to be.  That being said, here’s what’s been happening.

Back at the beginning of June, I lost my day job.

It was the first time in my adult life that I have been unemployed.  I was laid off due to cutbacks within the company for whom I was working.  It came as quite a shock.  I had a job which I never thought I would leave – at least, not until this writing stuff really takes off.

This hit very hard at first.  Two days after my dismissal, I was at Sci-Fi Valley Con in Altoona.  I was very much not in the mood to interact with people and spent most of the weekend at my booth quietly applying for unemployment benefits and searching through job listings.  I was cool on the outside, but panicked on the inside.

After I got home from SFVC, I resolved myself more to working on my resume and applying for jobs.  When I wasn’t doing that (which is, in PA, mandated by the state that you have to do), I was admittedly sitting around and feeling sorry for myself.  I could have done a lot of writing.  I should have done a lot of writing.  Instead, I wound up moping around, playing video games, watching movies… anything to keep me from thinking about my current predicament.

I should have been writing this entire time.  In fact, I tried.  I started a short.  It didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.  I started it again.  Same result.  Crushing depression told me that I was a hack and it didn’t matter.  I was reminded that I did have fans and that I did have an obligation to them and that consistent and transparent communication (as well as maybe a short) would be for the best.

I ignored this because I am stubborn.

It wasn’t until Steel City Con in August that I really understood that.  I realized that my fans are real (no offense if you’re a fan and reading this, I know you exist, just, like, it’s hard to recognize that when you’re depressed).  A lot of you were asking around about book three.  I kept saying I was working on it.  This was true at the time, I just wasn’t working hard.

I spent the last weeks of August agonizing over the outline for book three.  There are still maybe two shorts I want to write before starting on the actual book but I needed to know where the story was going.  This is especially significant after receiving some constructive criticism about book two from a fan at Sci-Fi Valley Con.  They said they didn’t like The Obligatory Sequel as much as the first book because it wasn’t as funny and became more a traditional superhero ensemble drama rather than the action-comedy they liked.  I could see that.  Not as many jokes as there were in the first one in the interest of advancing the overall plot.

This had my head spinning as my original plan for book three spiraled out of control, getting into the drama of the plot, trying to come up with twists and reasons and lore.  I was backtracking the story of certain characters wondering where their stories started and contemplating throwing in mind-blowing twists leading to massive crazy expositions and explanations of everything people might have been curious about.  Filling in all the cracks and creating even bigger ones.

Then I realized that none of it was funny.  Nothing I was putting down on paper was even necessary.  Writing entire histories on certain characters was necessary only for me but wouldn’t really be necessary for the readers.  I started over.  I was rethinking the plot, the motives, the jokes… the direction I was going would have wound up focusing on one specific character and had no gravitas for the rest of the cast.  It took me a while to figure out how to adjust it so that I could retain all the elements of the storyline I’d been working on and get the other characters more involved and invested.  It took quite a while to get there but I finally did.  I just wanted to be able to do all of this while still making you laugh and sparing you a lot of the long-winded details.  If you know me personally you know that I love long-winded details so you can imagine how tough it was to self-edit in that aspect.

You’ll still wind up getting hints or even full explanations of some of the canon backstories I’ve written down (I know you’re all curious about Phalanx 81623 from the epilogue of book two, for instance) but a lot of the lore behind some of the things (specifically Project related lore) might not ever be revealed.  You should know, though, that I have a bible just so I can keep things straight on my side.

The Tuesday after Labor Day, I got a job offer.  I accepted and am now situating myself in a new office doing a similar job to that which I was doing previously.

As I started planning for the next step in my life, I found myself reinvigorated about the writing.  On my last weekday of freedom, I churned out the majority of the outline for book three – revamped, retooled, prepped to be plot-driven while remaining pretty damn funny.

I don’t know what it is.  Maybe it’s the working atmosphere.  I have modes, I suppose, and when I was unemployed, my mind told me that I wasn’t in work mode.  I had many ideal days over the summer in which to accomplish work; sitting on my porch with a jug of iced tea, my laptop, and a pack of smokes.  Nothing of any consequence ever came out of it.  I just couldn’t feel the rhythm.

I have been wanting to write this post for a while.  I felt you deserved to know what was happening.

As soon as my work situation is stable and I am through being onboarded and trained, book three writing will begin.  If you haven’t yet, I would recommend checking out the shorts that have already been posted.  There are going to be some consequences to the actions taken in those shorts within the third book and I want you guys to be prepared.

I’m planning on releasing a U7 2.5 which is going to compile the shorts into a (very short) book.  There will likely be at least two shorts exclusive to the print version, so make sure you pick it up when it is ready.  I’ll be making announcements when that happens.

Thanks for continuing to read and bearing with me as my real life gets back on track.

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—

[AUTHOR’S NOTE: There are spoilers for Fear the Walking Dead in here. If you haven’t watched up to Episode Three and you’re sensitive to those kind of things, come back later when you decide that it really doesn’t matter how badly I spoil this suckfest for you.]

Watching Fear the Walking Dead reminds me why I wrote the Unlucky Seven books they way that I did.

Too often in fiction, the writers create a world in which something crazy or unbelievable happens for which there is, apparently, no precedent. This is a common trope but one that I think needs to be called out. It’s a particularly frustrating one to deal with for the consumer of the product if those consumers are already familiar with the subject matter.

When I say no precedent, I mean that characters in the given story have no idea of previously written fiction about the subject matter.

You see it all the time in comic books; an origin story where people decide to become costumed heroes as if the concept never ever existed anywhere. They have adventures like the same sort of adventures never happened in anything they’ve ever read before. The major comic book universes exist in a reality where superhero fiction was never a thing.

I wrote Unlucky Seven in a universe where everyone understand exactly what is happening to them based on the proliferation of superhero fiction.

What I will call the Clueless Universe trope is far too prevalent in fiction and can be especially frustrating when applied to specific genres.

That said, let’s talk about how this makes Fear the Walking Dead borderline unwatchable.

After watching last night’s episode three with some of my friends (a tradition carried over from the parent show if for no other reason than continuity) I realized something: we have not shut up and watched through any of these episodes. We are screaming at the screen constantly because of the overwhelming level of ostrich syndrome exhibited by the show’s characters. Specifically, last night, the small family holding up in the suburbs waiting for daddy to get home.

[AUTHOR’S NOTE: Yes, I care so little about this show that I don’t bother to keep up with names.]

Their heads are so far in the sand that, even though they have power and cable at a relatively undisturbed house in the suburbs far from any of the horrors of downtown LA, they refuse to turn on a television or a radio to gain any valuable information instead relying on asking each other “what’s going on?” in an unending circle of stupidity – as if one of them is going to suddenly gain some divine knowledge on the situation as they sit around and play Monopoly like it’s family game night and not the dawn of the zombie apocalypse.

They peer through the blinds, make stupid mistakes like shining flashlights outside during a rolling brownout, convince themselves that their neighbor – who has dead eyes and is growling and pawing through their backyard fence to get at their tasty bits – is just sick and in no way harmful. Even though she has been at the back fence all night, reaching longingly toward the house full of delicious live human flesh, they continue to give her the benefit of the doubt the entire time. This after dealing with at least two different walkers previously in the same day.

While I appreciate the writer’s attempts to show people struggling to deal with the beginnings of a worldwide crisis, the gullibility level placed on these protagonists is simply staggering. The only conclusion we can draw is that it falls into the previously mentioned trope: the world of The Walking Dead must have had absolutely no zombie fiction to look back on to help aid with the survival or even outright prevention of the zombie apocalypse.

Is this a world without George Romero? Was there no original Night of the Living Dead? No sequels? No remakes? None of the basic knowledge of zombies that someone could have some kind of clue as to what the “walkers” actually are when the shit starts tenuously dripping into the fan and is poised to hit full on? I mean, the only kid with any inkling as to what was happening made a shiv to defend himself. A SHIV. SERIOUSLY. Get a nice one of your mom’s kitchen knives at least, dude. You should know better than to rely on something so makeshift in the beginning. Save those shiv-making skills for when you’re in a Woodbury- or Terminus-type situation.

I’m ok with the characters being reticent to take a “human” life (or whatever) but come on. You know what Mrs. Tran became. You know she’s not reaching through the crack in your fence to try to give you a hug. Not to mention the fact that you just iced another neighbor in your living room after he looked up from his dog chow with a not-so-right look on his face. The writing isn’t just on the wall as to what is going on in this world, it is blazing fire, three-hundred stories tall. People are turning into zombies. Zombies die when you get them in the head. They are not friendly no matter who they might have been before they died. Get with it quickly or get eaten.

Would any of us act differently? Yes. Mostly because we have shows like The Walking Dead and other, older, more revered reference material to look to for assistance. Would we put our head in the sand? Sure, some of us would. I don’t think that we would be having family game night after watching our neighbor across the street get eaten on top of a deflated bouncy castle. These characters are so helplessly written (except for the barber-dad who we have termed Latin Carol) that they seem even more improbable than the cast of the main show in the way they escape and kick ass. They are a gross caricature of those who would be in the vicinity of Ground Zero should the outbreak ever occur. I am not as prepared as some of the people I know should “shit go down”, but I like to think I would be able to handle myself at least slightly better than these chumps.

I honestly have a hope that every character on that show gets bit or eaten because their ignorance demands it. They are not Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Carol, or any of the others who have had to make the really hard choices. They are not survivors. They are zombie food. I know, I should give them time to develop that hard outer shell our usual gang has but, to be honest, I don’t care enough about this group of ignoramii to want to watch them make the transformation.

I will continue to watch this show because of the connection it has to the main show. I just think that, after five previous seasons of zombie ass-kicking, it is a little too late to go back to the well and see how people reacted to the start of the thing. A prequel involving one or more of the main characters of The Walking Dead would have been much more interesting (Michonne’s backstory, anyone?). Showing us strangers who would rather pretend the world isn’t crumbling around them rather than adapting to it is not the kind of thing I was looking for in a spinoff.

They drove to the hospital. In LA. In the middle of a full-scale riot. With zombies. And they drove right by like “NOPE” like it wasn’t a thing. Like, “whoa, hey, look at those cops unload on that old lady in a hospital gown. Glad their cruisers aren’t blocking the road. Glad there aren’t thousands of residents trying to barge their way into the ER for treatment. Nope, an LA hospital in a zombie riot is just a breeze to drive through. Wave and say what’s up.

Not to mention their flatbed truck was left parked and pristine in the middle of the street right next to where people were chucking molotovs into other random cars. Fancy that.

Sigh.

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—

Just wanted to throw out that I’m going to be doing an Author Q&A on Wednesday June 10 at the Carnegie Library of Homestead.  Here’s the event page if you want to RSVP.

https://www.facebook.com/events/956567171041542/

Also, Spike and I will be returning to Steel City Con this August.  I will hopefully have copies of the sequel for sale by then.  I am working diligently, don’t worry.

Short post.  That is all.

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—

You may have noticed that I’ve been away from the blog since February.  I’m not ignoring you.

I’ve been busy working on the Unlucky Seven Sequel (still as yet untitled).  You’ll be pleased to know that as I’m writing this I’m in the middle of chapter 17 out of an outlined 26.  I’m still looking at a mid-summer release (around July/August) if I can continue on this pace.  No joke, some of this stuff has been particularly difficult to write and I’ve had to blow up half the outline and retool the narrative at least twice already.  Rest assured, I have a plan.  I will not be GRRM or King and promise a series only to stall somewhere in the middle and not make good until years later.  Any of you who bought a book from me at the most recent cons should know that I meant what I said and it’s in process.

There are so many things I’d love to blog about.  I actually have a list but, by the time I get to any of the topics, they’ll likely be moot or out-dated.

I wanted to write more about Con life and how it’s been a serious blast, even though it is some pretty hard work.

I wanted to write about the straight-up anger from portions of the fanbase at the All-New, All-Different Avengers line-up in the comics and how the diversity of that new group is actually going to help to save comics rather than, as some fan-boy purists would have you think, destroy the legacy of great heroes.  I wanted to mention how much I love Miles Morales, Kamala Khan, Jane Foster Thor, Carol Danvers, Sam Wilson, Spider-Gwen, and all the other heroes of the evolving Marvel (616) Universe.  I also wanted to mention the morons who can’t accept that all their favorites aren’t boring muscly white men anymore.  That one may come up again later depending on the temperature of the internet.

I really want to talk about the writing process and everything I’ve discovered over the past few months.  I wanted to let people who have that nagging story idea or that manuscript they’re just not a hundred percent sure about that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  I want to encourage more people to enter into the self-publishing game and put their stuff out there.  I actually spoke at a panel about this at Sci-Fi Valley Con and I also have an Author Q&A coming up at the Carnegie Library of Homestead on June 10th (so, if you’re local to Pittsburgh or you want to travel to see me, go here and let me know you’re coming).  I’m not usually one for self-aggrandizing (no, seriously, I’m not) but I’m going to do my best to get people to put their necks out there and take a chance on themselves.

Oh, and as far as the sequel goes…

If you’re one of my readers and you want to see the first three chapters of the new book, shoot me an e-mail through here.  I’ll get it out to you ASAP.  Subject to minor revisions/editing but they’re pretty solid in my opinion.  Always open to feedback.

I promise I’ll be back to a regular blog schedule as soon as the sequel is over.  Trust me it takes all of my effort to keep moving forward and I actually feel guilty talking time away from it to address you but I feel you deserve to know what is happening.

In the meantime, o my brothers and only friends…

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—

Originally, I had promised that I would try to live-blog from Steel City Con.

The reason this didn’t happen is that I was both too busy and having too much fun to do so.

This first Con with my fellow writer and partner in crime, Spike Bowan, was an absolute blast. On one hand, it was work. A lot of carnival barking – me shouting “Words for sale! Organic, locally-sourced, free-range words for sale!” among other fun lines – and a lot of something else I don’t typically do: selling myself.

As I’ve mentioned in the past, I have a real problem with talking about myself or my book. The more I did it over the weekend, the easier it became and the more books I sold.

It has been something to the tune of seven years since I was last a salesman. With the help of the large crowds and lots of coffee, I was able to launch right back into the groove. I used to be a master salesman and have been told by some that I have the gift of gab. I was very proud of my sales skills back in the day when I had to memorize the specs on a cabinet full of camera equipment and fill other people’s needs. This was a bit different. It’s still all about filling a need but one for straight-up entertainment rather than the hobby/utility of the camera business.

I got a pretty good pitch down and was able to convince a lot of people to at least pick up the book and read the back cover, though fewer actually bought. Still, every sale is a reader. Every reader has the potential to spread the word.

We needed the carnival barker thing happening. Unlike the other artists in Artist Alley, we were not the visual sort. People didn’t see brightly colored rows of prints prominently displayed. In order to attract people, we had to call out to them. I was looking people in the eye asking, “Do you like words? Do you like many words arranged in an aesthetically pleasing manner?”

This opening line reeled in a surprising amount of people. Everyone loves a smart-ass.

Aside from the sales, both Spike and I made good friends with the people around us. I found an artist in the lovely and talented A.C. Mickey who produced her renditions of both Zoey and Agent Moorsblade from U7, solely from descriptions I’d written up. Her version of Zoey is frighteningly close to mine. She told me to call it fan-art, but I’m calling it a commission. She might be a fan of me as a person, but she’s yet to read the book. I love her style and want her to draw her version of all of my characters. I think it fits very well with the playful attitude of the book. Also, she gave Zoey a pixie cut, which is something I’ve never been daring enough to do with her ever-changing hair. Love that drawing. I’ll have to post Agent Moorsblade once I get a shot of the original art.

Also, we made good friends with Brian Hagan and his family. His daughter, Lemony, became the mascot of the three-booth area and drew many a cosplayer to our tables with her genuine amazement, especially anyone dressed Thor or a Pony. Brian’s a writer, kind of like me. If you like U7, you’ll enjoy The Horrible Plan of Horace Pickle which is a superhero novel where the hero tries to stop the villain from destroying mashed potatoes forever. Yes, you read that right. It’s very funny in the vein of Douglas Adams.

Spike and I had so much fun we’re going back for seconds this April. We made sure that our little three-booth family all signed up for the same tables so that we can be together again and we’ve also made many strides toward making IAM (Independent Authors of the Mon-Valley) a larger and more organized effort. These are good people and we want to continue working with them in any possible aspect. And, I’m not just saying that because they might be reading this. I absolutely mean it.

I collected many a business card of (and gave many a business card to) people wanting to work with us, wanting to join in on IAM if, for nothing else, the promise of mutually assured promotion which as I mentioned in my previous blog about self-publishing, is most of the battle. “It’s hard out here,” was the go-to line when fellow indie authors would ask about the self-publishing avenue. That’s no lie, it is. Most of the sales I made this weekend I worked hard for; pitching, hoping, handing out tiny spoilers. Having confidence (or the appearance thereof) is key, I found. The same as with any sales pitch.

In the end, this weekend was awesome. I met some truly great people and made good friends with whom I hope to work in the future. If I met you and left your name out, it’s only for the sake of brevity. I will openly pimp anyone’s stuff, especially if we talked or made any kind of connection.

One last cool thing: I loved the way some people’s faces lit up when I asked if they wanted me to sign their book. Like, they didn’t realize that I was the author pimping my own stuff. Not only that, but their reaction to my pitch about the book and the legitimate interest they showed when I explained what it was about. I’m very much looking forward to seeing some new likes on Facebook and new Twitter followers.

This was, all around, a most profitable weekend.

We will be back in April and I cannot wait. Still looking for that elusive U7 cosplayer, still have a prize in store. Get your costume ready and come see me in the spring!

Oh, and I inscribed almost every book with:

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—

This weekend is Steel City Con.

It’s my first big public outing as a self-published author. Yeah, I did the Too Groovy Toy Show as well, but that feels like just a warm-up compared to what I’m going to be facing this weekend.

Contrary to my nerdy archetype, I have only ever been to one Con prior to this one. Over the summer, my wife and I went to Fan Expo Toronto which happened to be going on during a weekend we decided to visit the Great White North. This was a totally on-the-fly decision. We only found out it was going on during the week leading up to our trip. We were walk-ins.

The place was busy but not as packed as I’ve seen in footage from San Diego. This was one of the bigger Cons in Canada from what I was told. It had the misfortune of being held the same weekend as DragonCon, which is ultimately bigger and drew more of just about everything than Fan Expo Toronto.

Based on what I saw in Toronto, I’m pretty excited for what I’ve got myself into at Steel City Con. While I understand that it will likely be markedly smaller (Toronto’s was held in their main urban convention center which is HUGE), I’m still very very excited about it.

It’s cool to think that I’m going to be on the other side of a booth. That I’m not going to be one of the browsing masses but that my product – the thing I’ve put so much of my life into – is going to be available for mass consumption directly to my main demographic. I’m excited to interact with the people some of whom, if I’m lucky, will have already read my book and will be there to see me, shake my hand, and tell me what they liked about my little story.

It’s likely that last part won’t happen but it won’t stop me from hoping. People think I’m joking when I say that I will give a special prize to the first ever Unlucky Seven cosplayer. I am not. I already have the prize in my possession. I’ll have it with me at Con just in case though I doubt anyone will step up to claim it. U7 isn’t that big… yet.

I still have trouble believing that Unlucky Seven is out there and being read by other people. When friends of mine are talking about it – which characters they like, their favorite moments, etc – it feels strange. The whole U7 world was something that was mine and mine alone for a very, very long time. Now, I have people discussing the intimate details with me; asking me questions about things that were alluded to in the book with certain characters or situations, specifically, things that were left unexplained to be revealed later. I know all the answers but am loathe to distribute spoilers, though I have been known to leak certain details to people I consider fans.

Having someone tell me that they love a character I’ve created is the most amazing feeling I’ve ever experienced. For someone else to talk with affection about a person who has only been in my head and on paper in front of me for over a decade makes me feel like I’ve done my job properly. The main compliments I get about the book usually involve the characters. It’s easy to put a lot of soul into them when I’ve known them in fiction for over a decade. It’s fun to see how their final (for better or worse) incarnations are received. Early conclusion: my next book should be entitled Everybody Loves Phalanx.

Also, I’ve been told that my naturalistic and flowing dialogue brings all the nerds to the yard. That was sort of the point. This is a book for geeks by a geek. This is the inner voice of the geek culture reacting to superhero origin stories. There’s still an expected suspension of disbelief between the reader and the story but not so much for the characters analyzing their own story. I like to think it’s a unique happy medium between pure superhero fantasy and the brutal reality of being a real-life vigilante.

I may come across a bit bold (read: egotistical) in my writings here but, believe me, it’s hard for me to see the merit in the things I do. I have very low self-confidence in this and most other things in my life. Mama didn’t raise no braggard. I was groomed to be humble. I find it tough to talk to most people about the merits of my book. I don’t know how to react to positive criticism most of the time. When people say: “You wrote a book?” with that happy sort-of surprised tone, I answer: “Yep, a whole book. Has words in it and everything.” They usually ask what it’s about. “Superheroes” is my default answer. Explaining the whole dust-jacket sizzle text makes me feel stupid. I know, I should be more confident and salesman-like but I’m sheepish about it for psychological reasons of which I’m mostly unclear.

Steel City Con will be an interesting experience because, for once, I’ll have to stand proudly and acknowledge my work. I’ll be forced to craft a sales pitch. I’m trying to get my words out there and into the hands of people who will appreciate them in hopes that they’ll pass word along if they like it. I have to remember that finishing a novel of any length and releasing it to the masses by any means is an achievement of hard work, perseverance, and most of all bravery. I feel like leaving U7 to be judged by the fickle and potentially volatile essence that is the Internet took some large pendulous brass ones to accomplish especially when I’m working with grassroots marketing. Amazon Reviews, Goodreads fans, Facebook and Twitter followers… these mean the world to me, especially when my followers work to help me out. Hint hint.

I’m nervous. I’m excited. Hopefully I’ll see you there.

I’ll likely be live-blogging when possible (if possible) this weekend. Stay tuned.

A special additional thanks to all of my GoFundMe donors. You helped me amass 125 books to sell at Con. My wife is worried I’ll run out. I’m looking forward to that, honestly.

Remember, there’s a prize in it if you are the first U7 cosplayer. And no, people on whom I based characters, showing up as yourself does not count. Showing up as another U7 character, however…

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—

More like I finished a book. Finally. Really. You can buy it here.

If you’ve known me for a while and you’ve been around since way back in the old livejournal days (God, that feel so dated it’s almost embarrassing) then you know about Unlucky Seven.

I’ve mentioned it in this blog on a few occasions, mostly using it as an excuse in the long lapse between blog entries. It is, actually, a real and tangible thing. Well, as real as words typed on a screen can be.

Some of you still reading from way back when may remember that I used to post chapters of this story on a separate livejournal (there’s that feeling again) as a sort of serial. I had at least two or three people who I considered fans that kept up with it as it grew ever more monstrous.

It got to be too big. 60+ chapters. Over 2 million words. At one point, I said to myself that enough was enough. If I ever wanted this thing to hit print, I couldn’t keep going, especially since the narrative had grown out of my control with continuous foreshadowing to things that were never realized or were simply forgotten about leading up to a time travel story arc. What can I say? The last livejournal posts were made in the summer of 2008 (just went to check for sure, THAT was a trip down memory lane…) and the last parts of the gigantic ridiculous original tale were written sometime around 2010. They weren’t publicized as the audience had largely dried up. I kept working and, let me tell you, I’m glad I kept the rest of it behind closed doors. It was utter travesty with absolutely no direction. I blame the fact that I was watching LOST with severe interest at the time.

It was upon this realization in 2010 that I decided it was time for an overhaul. I read through it, hated most of it, liked some of it, and decided that my original idea of chopping it up into bite-sized chunks for mass consumption would not be as simple as that. There were so many problems and I was guilty of pride in not noticing them. This work, which had taken most of my creative time (between ranting about things and arranging fictional fisticuffs), was a literal monster.

The first thing I realized was that initially it had taken fifty (that’s 5 x 10) chapters in a story about superheroes to get to any kind of real, major, tangible conflict. I’m talking over a million words before a serious blow was thrown. There had been minor conflicts, sure, but not to really resolve anything. I created some of the most amazingly super-powered people and did next-to-nothing with them for the majority of their existence on the printed page. Obviously, I couldn’t just chop it off at a random chapter. The story needed a climax – a major event – before the first manageable (read: not 500 page) installment could end.

The tool belt was broken out. The rewrite had begun.

I started hacking away using the original monstrosity as source material. I started to cherry pick the best parts and stuff them into a neat little package. Entire chapters survived because, again, I was too proud to eliminate a majority of the work I’d already done. After a year or so, I had it down to about thirty chapters with a definitive ending including a cliffhanger into what I planned to be the next book. I was fairly pleased with what I had Frankenstein-ed together enough to start submitting to publishers.

Dozens of rejection letters came. After really reading over it and evaluating, I wasn’t surprised.

Chapter one was garbage. It would have to be redone. Chapter two wasn’t much better. Something I stated as untrue in chapter seven was suddenly made crucially true in chapter twenty-one because it just had to be there. The pacing wasn’t right. The ending was flimsy. Even the cliffhanger wasn’t well executed. As a whole, I was displeased.

I put it down for a year. I stepped away and didn’t touch anything. I tried to move on to other projects. I tried to write something else but that specter, the shadow of that giant, loomed over me. I knew what had to be done.

I started with a ground level rewrite and I did it the right way this time. I outlined everything just for the sake of having notes. I knew where I wanted the story to go, I just had to write my way there. I changed so much that the tone of the entire work was permanently altered. Character dynamics, interactions, places, people, situations… nothing looked the same. It was like blowing up your hometown, leaving for a decade, and coming back to something completely different yet still somehow familiar.

As typical and pretentious as it may sound, I found the voice of the work. I figured out the devices which might help to set it apart from its contemporaries. Eventually, after poring over it time and again, it was complete.

The concept for Unlucky Seven came to me in 2002. I started writing it in 2004. That’s an entire decade this story has been added to, chipped at, broken down, reconstructed, played with, rearranged, and untangled. Ten years later, it was finally what I wanted it to be.

It feels like an achievement that it’s now out for public consumption.

I got tired of waiting for publishers and literary agents to get back to me and tell me they weren’t interested or that the market wasn’t right or that their house had another similar project in the works. I wanted this out there and I wanted it out there now. A friend suggested Amazon as an outlet and, after some serious research, I decided that self-publishing would allow me to keep a tighter grip on my beloved IP and I hope that I’m right.

With no excuses left to hold me back, I pushed the go button. So, now we’re going. Hopefully we’ll keep going and keep going well.

A cover design is all that is holding back a print-on-demand version of the book, by the way, but if you want it cheap, I recommend the Kindle version. Kindle reader is available for just about every platform from PC to Android to iOS, so it’s not just limited to one particular brand of eReader. If you’ve enjoyed my non-fictional words in the past, I humbly ask that you pick up a copy of U7. Swag will be forthcoming as well (there’s a logo, which means merch can be produced with relative ease).

I thank you, my loyal audience, for all the times you’ve read and commented. Now, I call on you to help a brother out. Spread the word about Unlucky Seven. Get your friends to buy it. Get your family to buy it. Get your enemies to buy it. Write a review for it on its Amazon page. Most importantly, get ready for a sequel. It won’t take ten more years, I can promise you that.

Keep fighting the good fight.

—end transmission—