Post will come

Sorry, guys. I’m  running late today — actually, that should be dragging late. I’m on the recovery side of the worst bout of something in a very long time. Add in the fact that my laptop is giving me the horrid blue screen of death, among other things, and this morning is not going well. So I will be back later — after coffee and after the meds have kicked in. Until then, the floor is yours.


  1. *looks at floor* That would explain the bits of nacho chips, the dustbunnies, tree-stuff that got tracked in, something under the couch that I;m going to pretend isn’t there, and confetti. How come I never get invited to the fun parties? *goes to get broom and dustpan*

      1. Look, what you don’t know, you don’t have to worry about. It’s pet hair, I think she’s got some exotic cat breed, hence the color.

        Now hand me the broom. Just because someone gave us this floor for free doesn’t mean we shouldn’t clean it up a bit. Maybe get an area rug. What do you think? Earth tones with some deep reds?

  2. Ooooh! The floor is mine? Let the rebellion begin here!
    I got an email from a writer this morning. He got through the slush pile, but never managed to get his book published, so he left Baen (I’m taking him at his word). Now he’s getting ready to publish independently, and he’s too hesitant. Several editors. Beta readers. But importantly, not published.
    So what would happen to me if I tried, say, Baen. Or worse, one of Hachette’s companies?
    Slush pile, for four months. Discussions. Get an agent, son. You have to have an agent. More time gone.
    The agent will then make a deal. He won’t tell the publishing company, “No. That’s not good enough. I’ll take the book somewhere else.” He won’t get paid if he does that, so he’ll accept an offer on my behalf. I’ll sign, and then the publishing company will own my blood, sweat, and probably snot.
    For, shall we say, not a fortune? No indeed. “Son, you’re a new writer. We’re taking a chance on you, you know. We could lose money!”
    The important thing is that I would almost be guaranteed to lose money.
    There are a few errors in the publisher’s assumption. I’m NOT a new writer. There’s no need for me to send my manuscript to the slush pile. No need for an agent. No need to smile and bob my head, “Yes, massa.”
    Because I do it all myself. I write. I proofread, do the final editing too. I format. I assemble the document, prepare it by adding front material and end material. I write the blurb. I buy a cover from a professional. I publish it on Amazon, choose the 70% option (the other is for suckers; I was, for a while), price my book where I think it will sell, choose Select, and let that book fly. I wait until I have reviews, then advertise via ENT or BookSends. I’ve tried others, they aren’t reliable; FWIW, BookBub hasn’t seen fit to take my money.
    Having done those things, repeatedly, I’ve reached ‘midlister’ status. Or I think I have. I don’t depend on income from writing, but if I had to I could live very comfortably on what I’m earning now.
    It took me two years to reach this status.
    Had I chosen to go traditional, I might have one, maybe two books in print by now. And how much money would I have earned from a publisher?
    Less than I’ve made this year alone. Actual figures (horrors!): Amazon currently owes me about $17k dollars, and May isn’t over yet. That’s the sum total of what they’ll pay me at the end of May, end of June, and less than they’ll pay at the end of July because my books will continue to sell through May.
    I doubt I’ll ever be nominated for a Hugo. Tsk.

    1. Tell your friend that Baen gets so many manuscripts that it publishes about 1%. Possibly less. When I was reading slush for them, I recommended about 10% to the editors and about 10% of those made it. And speaking from experience, if he was in that first 10%, he’s got a good story and ought to publish it.

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