Stacia Kane

Personal Demons’ page on Amazon has gone live, so apparently they have received the books and are getting ready to ship…but for some reason they’re listing them as “Usually ships within 1-2 MONTHS”. I have no idea what that’s about. I can only assume it will update within the next day or so. Meantime, I seriously doubt you will be waiting 1-2 months before the book ships.

Now what are you doing here? Head over to the League!

I decided to try something today.

Back in the dark days of last year (which would be summer, which technically wasn’t dark but as darker for me, for reasons I’m about to explain) I had gained so much weight that my corset no longer fit. My jeans really didn’t fit–putting them on and buttoning them was akin to tightly belting the Stay-Puft marshmallow man–and big t-shirts were my only friend.

But…I have lost 22 pounds since then. I weigh almost as little I did when the hubs and I got together, almost as little as I did on our wedding day. Of course, thanks to having two babies the topography of that fat has moved–less up top, more in the middle, as it were–but still. I look in the mirror and am fairly pleased.

(Oooh, I am especially pleased since, remember that new moisturizer I bought a few weeks back? The, ah, anti-aging one? No more dry skin!!! My forehead is smooth again. It’s a delight to behold.)

So I decided to get out my corset, the one that didn’t fit anymore back in September.

It fits again. Not only does it fit, it fits a little too easily! I wasn’t even that tightly laced and had pure black in back, baby. (This is a reference to the “modesty panel, which is a couple of inches of cloth the same color as the corset which goes under the laces to keep your skin from showing.) So I wore it out to the grocery store. Of course, the effect was ruined by the fact that it’s freezing outside so I had to keep my coat on and buttoned (it snowed on and off all day yesterday, and some of it even stuck). But I knew it was there!

I’m very excited about this. Very excited indeed. I’m actually thinking it may be time soon to get a new, smaller corset. Wheee!

And I owe it all to calorie counting. I love calorie counting, which is odd considering how much I usually dislike math. But calorie counting is fun for me, really. I love figuring out how much I can eat and making little trade-offs with myself. Like, say, skipping dessert and having a vodka tonic instead. It feels very orderly, and I like orderly. It’s also very easy. I don’t have to follow some weirdo plan that’s usually filled with foods I hate or am allergic to (like mushrooms or red peppers or, I don’t know, fussy little salsas of every variation). I can cook for the whole family and just eat less than they do. I can still have candy and booze, which are both very important parts of my regular diet.

And it occurred to me, as I started tallying up my daily count in my head, that this is how I write as well. I keep it all in my head. I allocate certain places in the book for certain events to happen. I tick things off like a list, plant hints and clues like I’m laying in a supply of Jaffa cake bars for later (they’re like 139 calories per bar, which is awesome.) They give me the same kind of in-control shivers of happiness, planning my books and planning my meals.

I’m not obsessed with food or anything. I realize that all my talk of planning meals and being in control can sound a little eating-disordery. But I assure you that’s not the case. It’s just something to do, something else (like writing) to help me plan my days.

And now I can lace my corset again, which is almost as good as finishing a book. Almost.

I’ve been thinking of doing metrics again…maybe I need the kick in the butt, because work on UG2 is going slooow.

Yes, it’s time again for My Opinions on Publishing.

I saw this article on Gawker this morning, and of course rushed right over to Galley cat to see their take on it. (In a nutshell, there’s a new sherriff in town at HarperCollins, and he’s planning a new imprint. This imprint will “will publish approximately 25 popular-priced books per year in multiple physical and digital formats including those as yet unspecified, with the aim to combine the best practices of trade publishing while taking full advantage of the internet for sales, marketing and distribution. Authors will be compensated through a profit sharing model as opposed to a traditional royalty, and books will be promoted utilizing on-line publicity, advertising and marketing.”

In other words, there will be no advances. The author will get a much larger percentage of royalties (this article at the NYT suggests 50%) instead, and Miller is hoping to do away with returns.

The idea of no advances seems to have set a lot of tongues angrily wagging, but I have to say, I don’t see this as such a terrible thing. I don’t know that I would necessarily want to sign on to this imprint (not like I’m being offered the chance, we’re just playing Devil’s Advocate here), but really, I’d be awfully tempted to take 50% royalties over an advance, for a number of reasons. One, because I am a nervous nellie and the idea of not having to worry about earning out would soothe me. Two, because it’s conceivable this arrangement would make me a LOT more money.

Let’s say for the sake of simplicity (because my math skills are the suck) that you sign a contract with a 10k advance–an average advance for a first book, as far as I’ve heard. Your book sells for $20 and 10,000 copies are printed. Your royalty rate is 15%, (the $20 and 15% are from the Times article).

So. 10k advance. At 15% of $20, you need to sell 3,333 copies to earn out your advance. You earn 3 dollars on each remaining copy, leaving you with a royalty total of $20,000. So you’ve made a total of 30k on your book.

Now let’s take the same figures but no royalty. You make $10 per copy on 10,000 copies. Um. That’s $100,000.00. To me the difference between $30k and $100k is pretty clear, and waiting for the money would be worth it.

Of course, these figures aren’t perfect and don’t take into account reprinting or larger advances, especially not the number of books that never earn out their advances. But if less books are losing money on their huge advances, isn’t that a good thing for the industry? Don’t we want publishing to make money and thrive?

Like I said, I don’t think we have enough information yet on whether or not this new imprint will work, how it will be marketed and promoted, distributed, all kinds of important things. But I do think it’s a little early to start panicking that the sky is falling and writers will never be able to make money. This actually seems to me like a solution to some of the industry’s problems, rather than a deeper problem. Hey, the only one of my books I’ve ever gotten an advance on is Personal Demons, and I can assure you that while the EC stuff isn’t making me rich–especially with the crushing exchange rate–it’s not terrible by any stretch; I’ve had a few fantastic months.

And while we’re on the subject of the industry itself, and (sort of) on ebooks and money and all that…

I know I made this point, in a slightly roundabout way, back in my publishing series. But I want to say it again. Quit gambling with your work. Do NOT submit to that start-up epublisher whose editors and administrators have no experience, and are basically the tech equivalent of Andy Hardy and the gang putting on a show in the garage. Just…don’t. Don’t figure you’ll give them a shot and see what they do. Don’t figure everybody has to start somewhere. Yes, they do–usually as interns at an established publishing company. As has been said on Absolute Write, “‘Publisher’ is NOT an entry-level job.”

The same goes for agents. Having an agent does you no good at all if the agent doesn’t know what they’re doing or have the necessary connections. So the lady setting up the agency is really nice, and worked in marketing, and loves books? Yeah, so? What has she sold? What is her previous experience in publishing? I don’t care if she made a mint selling ice in Alaska, because publishing is a different beast entirely. I swear it honestly makes me feel a little ill when I see people squeeing over their new agent, when the new agent is a housewife from Oklahoma (no offense, Oklahoma) who “really loves books” and so decided to start an agency. Publishing contracts are complex; even if the agent manages to sell your work, the odds that you’ll get as good a deal as you would have with a decent agent are slim. Don’t take a chance on this. Don’t waste your work!

An agent should have sales, verifiable sales to royalty-paying publishers. Sure, you can look at and submit to a new agent–a new agent at an established agency, for example, already has credentials simply because of the name on the door. An agent leaving an established agency and striking out on his or her own is also an excellent bet, provided they’ve made sales in the past. But Peg from Omaha who sets out her shingle and loves your work is NOT a good bet. STOP DOING THIS! Experience counts. Contacts count. Please don’t assume that because the business card says “Literary Agent”, that this person can sell your work. Chances are, unless they’ve got experience, they CAN’T.

Ah, it’s finally here, the last excerpt day! And the book itself should be shipping and in stores within the next week. Sorry about the delay there.

Let’s do the ‘cerpt, and then we’ll get to the contest.

Brian glanced over his shoulder to make sure Dante wasn’t lurking behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me, Megan?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you aren’t crazy about this whole interview thing. But I’m a good journalist, and something like this was sure to come out. You should have told me.”

“Told you what?” Her eyes shifted towards the living room.

Brian followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “I got a email this evening, from an address I didn’t recognize. Normally I’d delete it as spam, but the subject line was your name, so I opened it.”

“And?”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out two folded sheets of paper. Opening them, he handed her one.

Dear Mr. Stone,
I know you are writting about Megan Chase. Megan is a murderor. She don’t deserve your story.
A Concerned Friend

“Oh my God.” The words left her lips before she realized it. She leaned against the countertop. The marble lip made a cool stripe across her back and soothed her. It felt real. Nothing else did.

She cleared her throat and started to hand the paper back to him. “Some crazy, I guess.”

He didn’t reply. Instead he handed her the other sheet.

She took it with unsteady hands. It was a scan of a photocopy, she guessed from the slightly out-of-focus look of the page, but it was clear enough to read the headline: Teen Will Not Face Charges.

Megan closed her eyes.

“Read the article.”

“I don’t need to read it,” she said. “You know I don’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

The TV went on in the other room. Dante was channel-surfing. Each time the sound changed she cringed. Brian loomed over her in front, Dante made himself right at home in her living room. Even her house wasn’t private.

Her life certainly didn’t seem to be.

“I try not to think of it. It was a long time ago, I was innocent and the story never made the bigger papers. I thought it was forgotten.”

She’d thought she’d left it behind. Left it in Grant Falls along with everything else. That’s why she hadn’t said anything. She wanted to kick herself. How arrogant she’d been, to think she could move on.

“We talked about your childhood,” Brian said. “About small-town life, remember? Just today, in fact. But you kept this hidden.” He put the papers back in his pocket. “Don’t you see the position you put me in by hiding this from me?”

“You’re writing a puff piece. Why do you need to know that when I was sixteen I was a suspect in the murder of a local homeless man? A murder I did not commit?”

“Not just a murder, Megan, a violent, ritualistic murder, and I need to know because my editor got a copy of this, too, and wanted to know why I hadn’t discovered it on my own. There was nothing about this in the papers in Redwoods City. Which makes sense, since it turns out you lied about where you grew up.” His anger throbbed around her. “I’m used to reticence. I can even understand why you didn’t mention this. But I would have found out anyway, you know. Like I said, I’m a good journalist.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to do what I have to do.” Tears sprang to her eyes, but he wasn’t done talking. “If you’ll help me, if you’ll be open and honest about this, I can turn it into nothing—a brief mention in an otherwise glowing article. If not—if you keep lying and hiding things from me, and ditching me so you can go on dates like you did tonight—”

“I wasn’t on a date. Dante picked me up. My—car wouldn’t start. I called him.” What the hell was his problem with her anyway? So she’d lied about her past. She couldn’t imagine she was the first of his interviewees ever to do so. Did every local socialite tell the truth about her age and upbringing?

Something deeper hid behind Brian’s anger, but the thought of reading him and finding out what it was filled her with exhaustion. Tomorrow she’d do it. Tomorrow she’d take care of all of this.

“Sure.” He didn’t meet her gaze. “Anyway. Tomorrow we have a lot of talking to do. Just promise you’ll tell the truth.”

Megan bit back a sharp reply and nodded. “I promise.”

“Great.” He reached out and took her arm, his hand cold through the fabric of her shirt. “I like you, Megan. But I’m not going to pretend a story doesn’t exist if there is a story. So play fair with me and stop trying to make me look like an idiot.”

New Reviews!

Woo-hoo! My idol, Mrs. Giggles, gave Personal Demons an 88!

“Personal Demons is a nice change from the usual tales of vampires and werewolves running around shrieking about mates and soulmates. It is also a fun-filled read that I find so enjoyable from the first page to last.”

Read the whole thing here. As usual, she made me laugh out loud, especially the part about Dante.

Moonfire Thoughts posted a nice review here, saying:

“Thought, when I picked it up, I figured I’d spent a few minutes while the pork chops grilled and read a few pages. Sixty pages later, I realized I really needed to get them off the grill before they started to burn. I think it was about 23:30 at night when I announced I wasn’t going to sleep until I finished it.”

And here’s our big release-month contest!!

You can enter in one of several ways:

1. Take a picture of the book, on the shelves at your local store, and email it to me (Staciakane AT gmail.com)
2. Review the book on your blog, and email me the link. It doesn’t have to be a positive review, just an honest one. (Yes, you’ll still be entered if you hated the book, but really, why would you want to be?)
3. Mention the book on a forum or website (remember, spam doesn’t count.)
4. Review the book at Amazon (or equivalent–B&N, Chapters, whatever site you use). Again, it doesn’t have to be a glowingly positive review, just an honest one. Email me and tell me which review is yours.

An what can you win? One of five signed copies. Possibly more, depending on how many entries I get.

And a little final note: There’s lots of talk about this big Amazon POD thing, and while I feel like I should really care about it, I don’t. I find it odd that I don’t, as this sort of thing would normally be right up my alley, but I just don’t. Go figure.