Listen, Bitches

Here is a handy trick, for when you know your blog post / FB entry / office memo / etc is taking too long to get to the point. Start the first sentence with "Listen, bitches." You can go delete it after you've finished writing. But I guarantee it will get you straight to your point. For example:

Listen, bitches.

I would rather eat a bucket of eyeballs than promote myself. Especially on social media. All that hashtag-spamming algorithm-twisting click-follow-share-like-buy digital donkey-braying feels incredibly gross and fake, and I hate it like I hate stepping in a puddle with socks on. 

Now. With that said, Kristine Hall of Hall Ways and #LSBBT is THE BEST blog-tour-guide there ever was or will be. She is just egregiously kind, and helpful, and patient, and so good that I even have to take back some of those ugly things I said about social promotion in the above paragraph.
You know what she did?

She set me up a special prize drawing, where I can put the first chapter of my next book in with the three copies of One Night in Sixes that we're giving away. (It ends at midnight tonight, so go quick if you want in on that.)

She put together this neat scrapbook, where I can show off the amazing beautiful things that some of you guys have made and done for me, that I could never, EVER have done for myself.


And she has put my book in the hands of SO many fantastic bloggers and readers, like Tabatha Pope and Melyssa Prince and Texan Girl Reads and Bookadelphia who have written reviews that I would have never in a million years known how to ask for myself. Like this one here, that legit made me cry, because she just GETS IT.

 

I don't know how much sense this will make to those of you who haven't done the author-thing, but like... Kristine brought my book back to life, y'all. I thought it was dead. I thought I had failed. Now there's all these brand-new people picking it up, and some of them are enjoying it the way I had never EVER dared to hope that perfect strangers would or could, and my writing-world is a garden of possibilities again.

So, even though I'm probably always going to be rotten at instanipulating the blogarithms, I'm prepared to confess: in the right hands, these book-tour-barn-raisings are really something else. Hashtags and all. And if you don't have someone on speed-dial already...

#listenbitches: Hall Ways is the fearless, friendly media-mancer you need, want, and deserve in your life. Go find her.

One Night in Sixes - The Annotated Edition!

Yes, today is Friday. And that deserves a shout-out. But I'm celebrating extra hard today, because it's ALSO the two-year anniversary of One Night in Sixes' release. I could write a whole post about what I've learned in that time - and maybe I will!

But again: today is Friday. A day for classroom cupcakes, cutting out of work early, and staying up late. So let me pile on to your already-awesome weekend plans with a special goodie. Today, I'm giving away...

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Yep - you read that right. This here is the real deal - a copy of the book hand-annotated by yours truly, with notes and Easter Eggs and translations galore. Here's a few spoiler-free sneak previews:

Are you excited? I'm excited. My good friend Jodi Thompson even helped me set this up so that there's multiple ways to enter - and the biggest fans have the best odds. Go, click, enter - you have one magical week to maximize your fanhood before we pick a winner!



The eyes of the a'Krah lit up at the mention of horses. Vuchak tried to hide it, nodding in reserved contemplation, but Weisei clapped his hands to his knees in thunderstruck enthusiasm.

"Afvik," he said with a tipsy bright smile, "do you like to play games?"

One Year Out: On Fame, Fear, and the End of Debut-dom

So about a month ago, I had a real Twilight Zone moment. See, my mom tagged me in one of those time-hop things on Facebook -

- and my first thought was, "holy mackerel - has it been a year already?"

My second thought was, "oh my cheese - has it only been a YEAR?"

But lo, it was so: Sixes launched in the US on July 24th 2014, which means I've officially been doing the published-author thing for over a year now.

Now, a whole belated month-and-a-half after the fact, I'm sitting at home in my clean, quiet little me-space, and I finally have time to think about what that means. Or rather, what's appropriate to say about it.

Y'know, I was having an email conversation with my great buddy Merlin a few months back (a terrific writer you haven't heard of yet, because he is almost-literally working in the salt mines while he composes his magnum opus.) We were discussing how the ups and downs get harder to talk about once you start formally putting yourself out there - because you need to cultivate a professional image, and also because nobody wants to hear a bunch of first-world problems (especially from somebody who's achieved something most of the rest of us would give our eyeteeth for). But he added something I hadn't thought about before, with a phrase I will probably remember for the rest of forever. He said,

I think people have a romanticized idea of what it is to write a book, to tell a story that needs telling.  And that idea gets sold again and again because that's the only way to keep people doing this difficult thing, right?  So, if folks published a book and then told everyone they knew 'It was just the hardest, saddest, most wonderful but exhausting thing I've ever done' then someone else that had a story to tell might think twice.  

And man, that's it. That right there. I'm overjoyed to have had the opportunity to put my work out into the world this way. I'm so, so grateful to everyone who's invested in me. I am also frequently sad, ruinously tired, and absolutely terrified of failure. Actually, it's fair to say that I spend most of my time feeling like I'm failing.

But the thing is, when you accomplish something, that accomplishment is defined just as much by what it isn't.  We see every newborn baby as a potential president or cancer-curing scientist - but that's because they're literally 8 pounds of raw human potential. They haven't had the chance to TRY, much less fail. We fill graduates' heads with grand sweeping commencement speeches about infinite possibility and unlimited opportunities - but that's because the little darlings haven't gotten out into the world and DONE anything yet. And whatever they do, no matter how valid and important and fulfilling it is, they have to give up a hundred thousand other possible futures to do it. Every decision narrows the field of future decisions. Every choice is limiting.

And that's a hard, scary thing. That's why we have the quarter-life crisis. That's why so many of us spend our freshman adult years in angst and insecurity. I felt it then, and I'm feeling it all over again now. My first book didn't set the world on fire. It didn't win any awards. I didn't generate a whole bunch of buzz or get featured on NPR or score a blurb from Stephen King. Those possibilities are gone.  I've mourned them more than I probably should.

Most of that is probably just the inevitable death of an immature dream. Hell, I can remember finishing my first novel at 17, and fantasizing about what it was going to be like to be a published author too young to drink champagne at her own launch party.  As the kids say, "LOL."

But here's what I've noticed. The other authors in my cohort, the ones who just seem to be busting out all over the place? They might be putting out their first novels, but they have been pillars of their communities for YEARS. Silvia Moreno-Garcia is a short-story juggernaut, not to mention a hell of an editor in her own right. Beth Cato is the most prolific human being I've ever met - the adult version of that one kid who was in every extracurricular activity known to man and still found time to volunteer at the homeless shelter and earn a perfect 4.3 GPA. Julie Murphy basically runs her own e-church - preaching the gospel of body acceptance and self-love, giving and taking heartfelt and frequently hilarious confessions, making time to have passionate, relevant conversations with everybody who darkens her door.  You might not have heard of these people, but their posters are plastered all over my bedroom walls. They are my rival-frenemy-secret-crush-golden-shining-idols - and as badly as I want what they have, I simply haven't matched what they've done. I haven't even come close.

I haven't put out a whole passel of short stories. Hell, I haven't put out one. I haven't edited anything or taken any freelance writing gigs, and my online presence is the digital equivalent of me sitting in my living room with the lights off and the shades drawn and then wondering why I'm not getting invited to parties. And the one place where I basically am Celebrity Rockstar Author Jesus? Is DFWcon - where I've been pouring in volunteer hours and workshop face-time for three straight years. Is anyone else sensing a pattern here?

So... I guess what I'm saying is, this is the year I found out that the magical buzz-fairy is not going to sweep down and bless me with a box of instant-fame potato flakes. I am not writing accessible fiction for a well-established audience. I am not (yet!) a well-known person. I do not have the marketing heft of a Big-5 publisher throwing hella dollars to promote me. Those three things together mean that if there is an easy elevator to the top, I can't count on it. I am going to need to join 99.9% of the entire rest of the world in taking the stairs.

I'm up for it. I still feel like I'm failing. I'm absolutely terrified of going out of print, of being a confirmed dud that nobody will want to do business with. (Seriously, y'all: if you've read my stuff, please please please help me out with an Amazon / Goodreads review. It doesn't need to be Shakespeare. It doesn't need to glow. Short of buying 50,000 copies of my books and lobbing them through people's windows, this is the single best thing you can do to help me not sail my failboat all the way to remainder-land.) But I can do more than I've done so far, and the game isn't over yet. 

And speaking of which... you guys.

Thank you for this.

I may not have shown up on the New York Times, but my man Merlin put me front-and-center on the company shipping newsletter. Don't tell him it made me cry.

And for this.

Yes, that is one very well-loved spine.
Yes, those are marker tabs and page notes.
Yes, this is ego-pornography for authors - and my Uncle Sanford is Hugh Hefner.

And this.

Look at you. Look at you, you goddamn beautiful disasters!

And this.

FAN ART, people. Actual, honest-to-god fan art. This is not a drill!

And this, and this, and this, and this. (I print these out and love them until they're kleenex. You know that, right?)

Oh my god, and THIS.

Because you haven't truly made it as a writer until Frank has named MapleStory characters after your fictional friends.

Seriously, guys. Thank you so much for everything you've done to help launch me out into the world. I have no idea whether I can actually fly or whether I'm just 'falling with style', but you are absolutely the reason I haven't already splatted on the pavement. And let me tell you: even when it feels like the ground is rushing up to meet you, the view from up here is still pretty damn glorious.


...but if I go cold, I won't get sold
I'll get put in the back, in the discount rack
Like another can of beans

Con or Bust - Calling at Morganville, the Discworld, and Sixes

Well, at this point it's no big secret: I really, really, really like going to conventions.

And why wouldn't I?  I learned how to be an author at a con.

For my first-ever reading, it went pretty well!

And also how to be a fan.

My endgame cosplay scenario: Pam Poovey with a portal gun.

I've met amazing new friends at cons.

This is my legendary 16-bit buddy and pixie-lated musical genius, Lauren the Flute. 
Under Merriam-Webster's revised definition of the word "literally", she is literally a flute.

 And had once-in-a-lifetime experiences with old ones.

WorldCon 2013, DFW Writers Workshop contingent.
My first and sadly only time getting to hang out with Paul LaMarr.
As usual, Gabe stole the show.

Going to cons has become the absolute highlight of my probably-shouldn't-call-it-a-career-yet.  I seriously live for the weekends when work and writing and wifing all get kicked to the curb while Cinderella goes to the ball.

So naturally, I want other people to get to enjoy this weird, wild, nothing-else-like-it phenomenal good time that we call fan conventions.  I want a world where everyone has the opportunity to have a Disneyland-Hogwarts-Woodstock-carnival-prom experience of their very own.

We don't live in that world yet - but we are incredibly fortunate to have Con or Bust, a non-profit initiative that provides funding for fans of color attend conventions.  That means a great time for them, bigger and more inclusive events for con-goers in general, and ultimately a richer, stronger, greater community for everyone. 

"SWEET," I hear you say.  "How does it work?"

Well, Con or Bust raises money by accepting donated items - books, crafts, services, you name it - and auctioning them off.  This year, I am pleased as passionfruit punch to have goodies of my own to donate - and stoked as strawberry sangria to have a partner in crime.  Rachel Caine, New York Times bestselling author of the Morganville Vampires series and all-around phenomenal human being (seriously, guys, you are NOT prepared), has generously contributed a collection of rare, limited-edition books and merchandise to help further the cause - and all of it is going to the highest bidder!




Here's what we have (click each title link to go to its auction page):

The Morganville Vampires Superfan Swag Bag

Everything but a vampire's kitchen sink! (Cat not included.) You get:

• an autographed copy of The Morganville Vampires, Volume 1
• a pair of vampire bunny slippers (a.k.a. the “Rabbit With Big Pointy Teeth” slippers)
• the Morganville: The Series paper doll book
• “Common Grounds” coffee mug
• lenticular double-wide Fall of Night bookmark
• Morganville: The Series souvenir postcard
• set of six Morganville temporary tattoos (all different designs)
• Morganville Resident Identification Card
• green rubber Morganville wrist band

Prince of Shadows Special Gift Set 

Buddy, this ain't your granddad's Romeo and Juliet. This is dark, thrilling, historical YA at its murder-in-the-alleys finest. You get:

• a hardback copy of Prince of Shadows, signed by the author
• a decorative hard-backed journal, with lined pages and a magnet flap
• black and gold novelty book box with red faux-velvet interior (inside storage dimensions 11.5″ x 7″ x 2.25″)
• blue ballpoint quill pen
• 6″ heavyweight ‘rapier’ letter opener

One Night in Sixes - Rare Annotated Misprint Edition

This isn't just one of the rare first-edition British copies that got pulped and reissued when we (by which I mean my super-diligent Uncle Sandy) discovered a missing page.  This is a rare first-edition British copy that I've lovingly annotated with never-revealed series secrets, research notes, character trivia, and lore galore. It's cowboys-and-fishmen fantasy like you've never seen it before - with DVD director's commentary!

Manuscript Critique - Up to 10,000 Words

Want some help with your own magnum opus?  I'll critique up to 10,000 words of your original fiction, with your choice of either content, line, or copy-editing (see auction page for details).  Come, ambitious writers of the world - marinate your masterpiece in my delectable brain-juices!



And last but not least, in tribute to the late, great Terry Pratchett:

2015 "We R Igors" Discworld Diary

This is a new copy of the 2015 “We R Igors” Discworld Diary. It's a wonderfully designed hardcover book, featuring day-planner-style blank calendar pages alongside excellent illustrations and fun “flavor text” entries revealing the inner lives of the Igors – a true collector’s item.


Can you beat that?  At the risk of sounding competitive, I would submit that you cannot.  And you know what they say: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em before the auction ends on Sunday, May 3rd. Now go, gentle reader - visit the auctions, learn how to place your bids, and help make the world a better place for fandom!

The Great SFF Book Bonanza of 2015

Okay, y'all.  I have an ugly confession to make. I'm warning you right now: it's bad. It's real bad.

Are you ready? Promise not to be mad?

All right, here it is: I basically didn't read last year.

And before your monocle drops in the champagne, let me clarify: I DID read. I totally did. I read for work - let me tell you, I am now the James Wood of 10th- and 11th-grade Catholic school booklists - and for my friends, several of whom have manuscripts so amazing that my fists curl in disgust every time I realize that you guys can't read them yet.

But in terms of voluntary, published, pull-it-off-the-shelf-and-buy-it leisure reading - forget keeping abreast of new releases; I haven't even glimpsed a side-boob.

It is most definitely time to change that.

So this is where I throw myself at your feet and clasp your knees like a Greek supplicant and say "help me, benevolent literarian - deliver me from my prison of ignorance and squalor."  Would you, could you, pretty please with a cherry on top:

1. Recommend me a book, novella, or short story
2. of the sci-fi/fantasy/spec-fic persuasion
3. that was professionally published in 2014
4. and that you thought was terrific.

I know - it's a tall and oddly specific order. But here's the thing: the Hugo and Nebula nominations are open for a limited time only (and man, if anybody knows when the Hugo noms close, clue me in, because my and Google's best guess is mid-March).  And as someone who is now actually eligible to vote in both, I am anxious not to let some wonderful deserving Uncle-Ben masterpiece languish and die on the cold streets of collective indifference before I learn to use my powers for good.


AND SPEAKING OF DESERVING MASTERPIECES

see what I did there

If you are likewise of the SFF awards-voting persuasion, let me tell you about this amazing novel. It's called One Night in Sixes (but would have been better titled A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, if that bastard Eggers hadn't beaten me to it) and it is NOT ONLY Hugo and Nebula eligible, BUT ALSO a seminal entry in what is sure to be this year's hottest subgenre: epic fantasy literary Western culturepunk (or "rural fantasy" for short.)  Behold the stunning literary triumph that readers are calling "bad shit happens... then worse shit happens"! Marvel at what Publisher's Weekly hails as "murky" and GCE calls a "sweaty hot mess"! (The town of Sixes, that is.)  And if you like the sound of a slightly-wrecked Dark Tower-esque fantasy world with a funky, multicultural Deep Space Nine aesthetic, cowboy up and get you some.

PUT IT IN YOUR FACE.

(And if your gunnysack is coming up short on folding-money, hit me up. One Night in Sixes e-scholarship program available for a limited time.)

Okay, but anyway. Stories. Recs. Give them to me! And lest you think I'm completely helpless, here are the gems of 2014 I've already got jockeying for top spot on my TBR pile:

 Russ Linton - Crimson Son 

"Because when the Black Beetle invades your ice-hole, you grab your multi-tool and GTFO." I'm actually angry I haven't read this yet.  SUPERHERO BILDUNGSROMAN, GET IN ME.

Chuck Wendig - Blightborn

Because his dystopia is cooler than your dystopia. Because evil corn, that's why.

Beth Cato - The Clockwork Dagger 

Clerics and airships and murder and semi-rescued puppies and I KNEW HER BEFORE SHE WENT MAINSTREAM, dammit!

J.K. Cheney - The Seat of Magic

Her fishmen are sexier than mine. Her covers are colorier than mine. And her research - oh, let's not even talk about mine. Look, it's gaslamp fantasy with sirens in Portugal. Don't act like you're not excited.

Cixin Liu - The Three Body Problem

Confession: I don't know what this book is about. I don't WANT to know what this book is about. All I know is, 85% of my favorite people are completely over the moon about it, and I cannot wait to sit down and have the most amazing blind-date ever.






Okay. So those are my starter Pokemon. Think yours can compete with mine?  Prove it!  Put up your recs - my TBR pile can take anything you can dish out!

The Biggest Deal Ever

Y'know, when you're a kid, everything is THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER.

Not getting a cookie = biggest deal ever.

Christmas when you're four = biggest deal ever.

Middle school crush = biggest deal ever.

High school breakup = the catastrophic, world-ending bigness of this deal cannot be overstated.

And part of that's because your brain hasn't pupated yet, and you're still working on things like impulse control and executive function.  But I think a lot of it's because everything just feels SO MUCH MORE EPIC when you're experiencing it for the first time - you know, there's no precedent to fall back on, no "well, this is like that other thing that happened that other time" to help you put things in perspective.  (This must also be why we unabashedly LOVE the stuff we read/watched/listened to when we were kids, back when everything was brand-new and there was no such thing as a cliché.  I love many things, but nothing will ever match the savage virginal ferocity with which my 15-year-old self loved Sailor Moon.)

Except maybe for Youkai Yume's Sailor Ponies.  Be still, my throbbing ovaries.

I kinda feel like we don't make enough allowances for that in adulthood.  There's this prevailing opinion that by the time your prefrontal cortex is fully up and running (when you're about 25), you should pretty much have all the emotional training you need to deal with your life.

The thing is, though, the first-time stuff keeps rolling off the line.  First marriage.  First real job.  First kid.  First major illness in the family.  First death in the family.  First kid leaving home.  And even though you're trying so hard to do a good job piloting your grown-up mecha, it all still feels like the biggest deal ever - because it's all still totally new.

All of which is to say, I'm sorry for falling off the planet over these last couple months.  No, no dire secret tragedies here - I just got into this weird, nasty funk, and it's taken me awhile to discover the source of the River Angst.

See, when we were launching Sixes this summer, I tried REALLY hard to get it all right.  Guest blogs, con appearances, Twitter things, Facebook things, launch party, the whole nine yards.  It went great - better than I could have ever expected.  I didn't manage to do everything, but I had a fantastic time. 

Things got kind of backed up in fall.  Commitments and deadlines piled up, and I fell off the promotional wagon altogether.  Sales and mentions nose-dived.  By winter, I was totally wiped out - and then the "best of 2014" lists started rolling out, and I came down with this awful cocktail of bitterness and exhaustion and guilt.  Bitterness because my book had disappeared without a trace, exhaustion because I was too dang tired to contemplate another round of the "look at me, aren't I wonderful?" schtick, and guilt because A) I knew I hadn't done everything I could to help myself, and B) it is incredibly stupid and petty to get bent out of shape about stuff like this.  (I have a book that is published and in the actual bookstores, and another one on the way.  I AM the 0.00001%.)

The funny thing about these biggest-deals-ever is that you can KNOW that they are really the smallest of the small stuff - lepton-like in their #firstworldproblems insignificance - and still not be able to get past it.  The best you can do is keep your mouth shut and try really REALLY hard not to channel your inner Dudley Dursley, throwing a fit because you only got 36 presents this year. 

But then a happy thing happened last week.  Sixes got a great mention on SFsignal's latest Mind Meld (thanks, J! You are the queen!) Then a couple of days later, 4 out of 5 stars from the San Francisco Book Review.  And yesterday - this one's totally lighting up my life right now - a place of pride on a book blogger's Best of 2014 list.

And that just, like... I don't know, totally parted the clouds.  I realized that it was never really about wanting the big prizes or winning All of the Buzz.  Almost without exception, the people in the running for those are people who've invested years - decades - in the craft and the community. I might still throw my name in the ring, but I have not put in NEARLY enough hours to be a serious contender.  That's all right.  That's really as it should be.  I think more than anything, I just wanted assurance that I don't have to keep pushing every single second in order to keep my name out there, that I wrote something that can stand on its own - you know, that people who don't know me at all can still pick up my strange, dense, offbeat little book and find good things in it.

And I almost didn't post this, because for all that we praise the inner child, you're really not supposed to show the world your inner two-year-old... but I've talked to several other writers lately who are all in different stages of the process, and all going their own special kind of crazy.  It's a wonderful, peculiar business that we're all lucky to be a part of, but the thing people don't talk about much is that there really is only one way to stress-test a submarine... and you don't know where your weak spots are until you go deep enough for something to spring a leak.  That's normal - all part of growing into a big strong grown-up author - but you can't fix it until you figure out where the water's coming in.  I expect that's true for other things, too.

So all of this is to say that you, upstanding sophont that you are, are almost-certainly doing a great job of adulting - but if you ever do catch yourself feeling massively, disproportionately irrational about something, and can't implicate any of your usual suspects, it might be worth checking to see if maybe you aren't having a first-time-induced biggest-deal-ever.  They sneak up on you long after you've taken charge of your own juice and naptimes.


--"I don't mind dragons THIS size," said Mother.  "Why did it have to grow to be so BIG?"
--"I'm not sure," said Billy, "but I think it just wanted to be noticed."

Is That a Saguaro, or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

Hello again, Internet friends!  Going to try to keep it short this week, as your intrepid reporter is once again on the road, reporting live from an undisclosed location.

I can disclose this cactus, though. It is super freakin' weird.

Anyway, here's all the latest from the Tex Files:

I will be presenting at North Lake College's annual Arts & Literary Festival next week!  This gig is especially near and dear to my heart. I've attended a lot of schools, but NLC is my spawn point, my Hogwarts, my ancestral alma mater. If you are lucky enough to live in the Irving area and have daytimes free, check out all the A & L festival - they have an amazing lineup, and it's all free to the public.

I am also delighted to say that I've been accepted as a speaker at The Mid-American Review's Winter Wheat Festival!  This is kind of obscenely exciting, because *not only* am I going to get to go to Ohio (AND SEE REAL ACTUAL SNOW), I'm also going to have near-fatal amounts of fun with my supreme arch-linguist co-conspirator Jason Wells-Jensen and his posse of language-constructing, uke-tickling adventurers.  If you or a loved one are going to be in the greater Toledo area November 14th-15th, come treat yourself to a back-to-back lineup of dialect and conlang and all the writer knowledge you can handle!

Digitally speaking, I'm featured over at Lawrence Schoen's Eating Authors this week. It's not only a perfect example of an ambiguous modifier, but a great excuse for me to tell the tale of the dinner that broke me.  (Full disclosure: the phrase "cheese-smothered fetal dachshunds" also worked its way in somehow.)

And finally, the endlessly effervescent Laura Maisano lit up my life with a stellar review of One Night in Sixes.  This is kind of triply delightful, because Laura is NOT ONLY the senior editor of Anaiah Press (aka somebody who reads for a living) AND the mother of a very active toddler (aka somebody who has a whole lot of non-reading demands on her time), BUT ALSO my sworn rival: her first novel, Schism, has just been picked up for publication in 2015 - and I already know it's going to blow the barn doors off.  Quick, help me congratulate her before jealousy drowns us all - and get ready to hear plenty more of her name before we're done!

(You will also hear more about sinister cacti, big-ass balloons, cheerful tube-dogs, and a whole passel of arid autumn delights, just as soon as I get time to write about them. Pics included.)

You better watch out for those man-eating jackrabbits, and them killer cacti. 

Aggressively Excellent

Hello again, Internetizens.  This is later than I meant it to be, because I've been flakier than usual lately.  Getting the Loft class up to cruising altitude has been a bigger job than I expected (though a fun one!), and end-of-the-month deadlines are looming.

But just to fill you in, the past week-and-a-half-ish has been me doing basically this --

-- with almost-uniformly-fantastic results.  Everybody at Benbrook and the NTRWA meeting was so damn good, and I feel so lucky to have not only had my own schtick so well-received, but to have gotten the chance to see them in action too.  I've always enjoyed getting in front of a live studio audience, but these days it feels especially essential, both career-wise and for my own sanity.

Like, I don't want to turn into somebody who can't be happy in my own headspace, but being two months post-publication is turning out to be this weird Twilight Zone of "mission accomplished" mixed with impending doom.  You know, like, the book is out, the Blue Fairy has come down and turned you into a Real Boy / Girl / Non-Binary Individual, and you're happy and everybody's happy for you - but every day the Amazon ranking drops is another day closer to getting your covers torn off and your paperbacks pulped, and there's this weird, sinister anxiety that every day you're not out there being aggressively awesome is a day that you're actively failing.

Or maybe that's just me.  Regardless, when you're as "asynchronous-communications-challenged" as I am, it's a HUGE freakin' treat to get to take your dog-and-My-Little-Pony-show on the road - to get out from behind the screen and wallow in the instant, positive feedback from dozens of your fellow Earthlings, whose facial expressions and body language and question/comments are constantly, reassuringly all but shouting the same message: you are unbelievably terrific, and I could not be more interested in this what you are saying to me.  (I know you can communicate that online too, but trying to be wonderful on the Internet feels a lot like trying to entertain a goldfish.  Like, "are you enjoying this, and would I know if you were?")

Reply hazy. Try again.

So!  In the spirit of not being an anxious wet wonder-wad, here are the high points:

Cowboys and Indians Magazine thinks Sixes sounds pretty cool!  ("an exception in more ways than one" - oh, just y'all wait.)

So does SFsignal!  (This may be the only time I get mentioned in the same breath as Kazuo Ishiguro without "totally doesn't deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as" intervening.  Treasure it with me.)

Sixes made it to The Author Visits' Top 5 recommendations!  That is fabulous in itself (I already have a wrinkled yellow copy of TAV's review tucked up under my pillow), but even more so when you know Veena's insane read rate.  Believe me, making it to her top 100 would put you solidly in the 1%.

And - here's the best part - my new best friend J.R. Forasteros has not only read the book, but loved it so much that he's moving to DFW to be closer to my genius.*  So he's probably driving a U-Haul down I-65 right now, but consider this your perfect chance to catch up on the Storymen podcast in the interim - because you will definitely be hearing more about them!
*actually, he's moving here for a job.  But the rest is true.

Which is the perfect segue to my last bullet-point: if you are one of the classy, sophisticated Beautiful People who have read One Night in Sixes, please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, and/or Barnes and Noble.  Doesn't need to be quadruple-A+!  But while I'm waiting for Oprah to get back with me, your buzz-generating assistance will not only make a huge difference in my visibility, but also date-stamp your hipster cred.  That is a service I'm glad to provide for you.

In the meantime, all you local yokels better buckle your belt and strap on your boots, because FenCon is nearly upon us.  See you there!

I'll catch you yet, my pretties. Oh yes.

Medicine For the Dead - Cover Reveal!

All right, you guys.  We've done "ludicrously excited."  We've done "ecstatically exhausted."  We've even done "unexpectedly sad."  Now it's time to set your dial for impending awesomesauce, because Medicine for the Dead, the sequel to One Night in Sixes, now has a cover, a blurb, and a date.

Are you ready?

Are you sure?

Here it is!

cover by the devastatingly talented Tomasz Jedruszek!

Aw, just look at Vuchak - what a cheerful ray of sunshine he is!  But what's that?  Are those blood-stains on that rock there?  And who's that curled up in the wagon?  Here's the official scoop:

Two years ago, the crow-god Marhuk sent his grandson to Sixes. 

Two nights ago, a stranger picked up his gun and shot him. 

Two hours ago, the funeral party set out for the holy city of Atali'Krah, braving the wastelands to bring home the body of Dulei Marhuk.

Out in the wastes, one more corpse should hardly make a difference. But the blighted landscape has been ravaged by drought, twisted by violence, and warped by magic - and no-one is immune. Vuchak struggles to keep the party safe from monsters, marauders, and his own troubled mind. Weisei is being eaten alive by a strange illness. And fearful, guilt-wracked Elim hopes he's only imagining the sounds coming from Dulei's coffin.

As their supplies dwindle and tensions mount, the desert exacts a terrible price from its pilgrims - one that will be paid with the blood of the living, and the peace of the dead.

"My face!" I hear you cry.  "Damn you, Tex, you've rocked my face off again!"

Well, re-stick your kisser and limber up your left-click, because Medicine for the Dead is coming out on March 31st.  You know what to do.

(No B&N or Indiebound yet, but hopefully the wait won't be too long.)

"March?" you may say. "What am I supposed to do until March?!"

Well, I have no doubt that you have a rich, fulfilling inner life, but I will do my best to keep you busy!  This week, you can find me at:

Mary Robinette Kowal's "My Favorite Bit" - in which I wax ecstatic about language, alternate history, and obscure video game references

Melissa Lenhardt's Author Q&A - and yes, I DO have a superhero alter ego, and no, it has nothing to do with fried haggis!

The North Lake College News-Register - because I don't know if you know this, but NLC raised me up from a tiny Texan sproglet into the planet-smashing success I am today.  Go for the article! Stay for the secret writing tips, and my not-so-subtle love-on for the community college lifestyle!


In seriousness, though - you know, maybe I will get to be a big somebody someday (planet-smashing or otherwise).  Maybe someday putting out a book will be business as usual, and reviews will come pouring in, and I'll have people @-replying me so hard and fast that I won't hardly be able to keep track of them, much less stop to answer them all.

But right now, today, I'm still small and new - and that's its own kind of wonderful, because it means that I can see, notice, and appreciate every little thing y'all do to light up my life.  At this stage of the game, every book-photo you post is a joy.  Every "it was awesome!!" tweet is a delight.  Every review is a milestone.  Thank you guys - ALL you guys - for sharing me and my fictional friends with the rest of your world.  I am so excited to add to it!

Don't be too hasty. I can get you better revenge. This one has already killed one of their most valuable men, and these two have been fooled into taking him home to Atali'Krah. Sell our goods, but let us go on our way: we will take him to infect the children of Marhuk in their own home, and begin a new plague.