Pulp, Extra Thick

May 26, 2018

Once again, the email chime on my phone went off today. Let’s be honest, I don’t get a lot of email aside from the typical mailing lists I’m on. So when I hear that chime in the middle of the day, I get excited. Even when I see the return address of a publication and my cynicism takes over and I’m fairly certain that it’ll be a big fat no, I’m still excited.

That happened today. And it was from a publication!

Broadswords and Blasters. A magazine I’ve enjoyed since the beginning. A magazine I’d love to be published in. They’ve rejected multiple stories of mine. The most recent I sent just on a whim, not really expecting anything big. Boy, was I wrong.

They said yes! I’m happy, I’m excited, I’m still a little incredulous. I’ve been working my ass off on stories all week long—editing, fine-toothing, and sending them out. A lot of my hobbies and fun activities, like painting for instance, I’ve put aside. I’m going nuts loving this, having a great time getting these finalized and ready for publication, all building up to two major undertakings to begin this summer—editing The Third Tower, and something…else. (Gee, I wonder what?)

But it’s all been worth it. Broadswords and Blasters. Check it out. You won’t regret it. And when my story, “Sunday Evening” is a part of it, you’ll be even happier.

I know I am.

(To be honest, I wrote this earlier in the week, but I don’t think specific dates and times matter. I’m super excited!)

((Also–went and saw Solo: A Star Wars Story last night. Great movie! And there was a jaw-dropping cameo near the end, like holy shit! Truly was awesome, and I strongly recommend you check it out.)

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Proud to be proud?

May 19, 2018

An old friend of mine has recently self-published a book, magazine, supplement thing. It’s designed for a role-playing game, Dungeon Crawl Classics. You should check it out if you’re into rpg’s and weird stuff. It’s a pretty good looking pub.

Old fashioned role playing goodness!

I truly mean it when I hope he has better luck with self-publishing than I did—looks like he’s going into a second printing, so that’s good! I’ve posted stories for free, a novel which is going to be free very soon, and haven’t had many hits. I mean, selling a book for $1.99? Way too expensive! The short stories available for free? Not faring much better either.

Self-publishing is a very risky market these days. At one point in time, it would have been a potential for big money, and newfound popularity. There of course is the tale of the author who self-published on Amazon and sold 250,000 copies of her book. And who can forget Andy Weir with The Martian, a free download that found a publisher, made a fortune, and became one of the most popular movies of our time?

When all of it comes together, I see it as a matter of pride. My friend’s brother commented on Facebook that he’s proud of him for his accomplishment. Trust me, even self-publishing all the way to the end is an accomplishment. Especially when you’re the only one doing literally all of the work! I’m proud too, and he should be as well.

Pride is one of those tricky subjects, especially on the internet. I’ve seen people snap at straight people, white people, and basically anyone who has never had major issues in their life who claim to be proud by one of those things. It’s understandable—gays, for instance, have been held down and treated like shit for a long, long time, and unfortunately still are. Be proud of coming out, of not taking the shit that people feel the need to give you! Why should a straight person be proud? They’ve never dealt with it.

And so on and so forth.

But finishing a big project, going from start to finish, and even having a bit of success? That’s something to be proud of. When publishers, agents, and even the people who would buy something say no, over and over again, you held your head up and kept on with it. So what if you have to do it yourself? You did it, and no one can take that away from you.

There’s nothing wrong with being proud of that. And it’s good to be proud of someone else for doing that. Think how many people would have given up, or actually did give up? How many people get halfway through something and find something better to do? I know I’m guilty as hell of that!

And you know what else? It’s an awesome shot in the arm to know that someone is proud of you. It lets you know that you can keep going, and that there are indeed people who care, and want to see you succeed. It’s something I wish I’ve had.

My parents never told me they were proud. Any time I talked about writing, they laughed, put me down, or asked when I’m getting published so they could have money. Thanks a lot! No one in my family ever cared, and God forbid my friends ever let me know they gave a shit. All the people I gave a free copy of In the Pale Moonlight to never read it, or at least never let me know they did. I was hoping for some reviews, but I guess they forgot about that part.

It takes a lot away. I often write on this blog, and spend a lot more time thinking about it, but I wonder why I do this. If no one cares, the people I want to care and the people I need to care, why bother?

Because I love it. And I’m going to keep doing it, whether anyone cares or not. But, it’d be nice to have someone care. I guess I’ll just have to keep plowing through and see what happens.

I could sit here and moan and groan all day, but it’s beautiful out, and I’ve got a park to go to with a book in my hand.

(Totally unrelated side note, but the Royal Wedding was earlier today. I’m happy to see how awesome it was, and how happy it’s making people. Just one of those great things that makes me smile in spite of all the horrible shit going on in the world today. Slainte to you both!)

Yesterday I had a really cool announcement on my Facebook page. I had 50 likes! This was a big deal to me, since almost all the likes/followers there are my friends. Some are others who have worked with in writing, actually read my stuff, or found me some other way.

You’re probably thinking that 50 likes is no big deal. Sure, to some people. But I was elated. That’s a magic number!

I wrote a little status update and everything. And within a few hours, I was back to 49.

Seriously? Did my new like decide they didn’t want to be associated with me? Did someone else make that choice? Or did some wiseass think, hey this’ll be funny! Let’s ruin his happiness!

Whatever the case, it was nice for a moment. It was nice to feel like somebody, and it was nice to know that there’s people out there.

I like knowing that.