That’s all I can say.
It’s been a busy week. I mean, look! It’s been days since my last blog and I swore I’d be better about.
Goes to show how much you can trust me, right? The management has been riding my behind about it.
So today.. some updates that you’ll see on the site later today as well.
My story, “A Quarter Past Madness”, has been sold to David Turner for his anthology, “Tales to Fuel Your Nightmares”. Finally, AQPM has found a home! In a book no less! It should also be available for purchase sometime around Halloween–further updates will be made as soon as they’re available.
In working with Jaded Silence Press, we’ve selected our first book for publishing, by Lina J. James. More updates will be made.
Now… to the blog topic today.
I came up with the idea for this blog last Friday. (Yup, that’s how slow I am!)
I went to see a friend at Hastings (who kindly scores me books at a good deal–gotta love employee discounts!) and was wondering around, looking at the books on the horror shelves.
I was suddenly hit by this wave of awe. These people made it. They’re successful. They have written a book (or books) that people buy and read and enjoy.
Although I knew before how much work goes into writing, it didn’t really hit me until that moment exactly how hard it was for each and every one of them to get that far. I have become intimately acquainted with the pains of rejections, of constantly altering submissions to suit different guidelines, of talking to editors and trying to find that just right tone in your cover letter–something professional, confident and yet just casual enough that the editor can get a feel for who you are in a few brief paragraphs (and this goes without saying, but liking you too)–and I realized that I really need to buy a copy of every single book on that shelf. Even the ones that really are bombs and not worth reading. If only to give each author that bit of validation, of credit, to say “Yes, you worked your ass off and here’s your reward–a percentage off my purchase.”
As I pondered this, I realized that while I may not have a book on that shelf yet, I am considered one of their number. Whether or not they would consider me one of their number, I can’t say. I don’t propose to know what goes on behind people’s eyes. But I know that my friends and family and my own readers believe I am of their number. That I am a real writer. That people enjoy reading my stuff (which still surprises me again and again). That I am going places.
I was awash with awe and fascination and fear and hope and so many conflicting emotions I cannot name them all. I was abruptly terrified of my success–what if I do make it? What if I become one of them on those shelves? What if one day there’s ten books with my name on them on those shelves?
How would that feel to walk into a bookstore and see my name on a book on that shelf? On more than one book?
Inspiring. Terrifying. Awestruck.
I think I will be on that shelf one day. In fact, I know it. (Now, don’t go blabbing that I’m an arrogant bastard–not saying I’m not, I’m just being assertive.) And I know that I’ll see my friends there, too. They are just as talented if not more so than I.
I’m willing to bet that even when I sell my first book or my thirtieth book, I will continue to be surprised by the people who read them and enjoy them, perhaps even love them and hold them close to their hearts.
And I will always be awestruck when I wander the horror shelves and know that I’m one of them.