I’m talking about a numerically ordered grouping of items with a shared theme of some sort. Oh, like…a “To Do List.” For example, you can have a To Do List of people you’d like to sleep with. I believe this is also called a “Hit List.” (Not to be confused with a list of people you’d like to make sleep with the fishes.) Also not to be confused with the “Honeydew” List, which is a “Honey, do this” sort of thing. You can have a grocery list, a laundry list, that sort of thing.

I like lists. I like making lists. I feel accomplished when I check something off my list. It’s a tangible reminder that I have finished a task. I like making lists because it allows me the illusion of control over life — that I can put this, this and this down on a list and check off each item, HAHA, LIFE! IN YOUR FACE! I AM WORKING!

Today, I checked off an item from my list. It’s amazing how much better I feel when this happens. I still have many items left on my list, mostly stuff like “vacuum cat hair” “laundry” “clean toilets” “unpack suitcase” “pay bills” — but I also have “write 10 pages of superfunandseekrit project” — AND because I checked off finishing the final galley edits for ALL FALL DOWN, this means I can actually get to the writing of the fun and secret project! HOORAY!

Let’s pretend that the other items on that list aren’t there. Because I’m pretty sure I will not accomplish the vacuuming of cat hair today. I did clean a toilet. I am doing laundry.

LET ME WALLOW FOR A MOMENT IN MY GLORY OKAY!?!

I make lists to keep myself on track and organized. I like being on track and organized. When I am off track and not organized, I get cranky. I like to keep things in their place, where they belong. So today, hooray, for a few minutes anyway, I am feeling soundly grounded and where I belong.

For a few minutes, anyway.

M

So…it shouldn’t be so hard, right? To actually get on it and ride? I could use the time to read, cuz let’s face it, I never have enough time to read. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out a good way to write while riding it because I can’t find a desk or table that will fit across that my knees don’t hit as I’m pedaling. Because man, that would be the best, to write and ride at the same time. Then I could REALLY be hating life, right!

Anyway, it’s hard enough to wake up in the morning, but I did today. And I got on the bike, ready to watch an episode of Dead Like Me, which is the show I’m working my way through on Netflix. The problem? The male child also likes to watch it, which necessitates him 1. being awake (not a problem, he’s a disgustingly early riser) 2. ready to watch without interruption.

And there’s the problem.

I should be able to set the bike for 45 minutes and watch the damn show, right? No commercials or anything. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

But…no. As with all things involving children, teeth must be brushed, breakfast consumed, shoes tied, spelling books found. None of this can be done BEFORE the show starts so that I can simply ride and watch and sweat and grit my teeth. No. It has to all happen in five to ten minute intervals of “I have to find my spelling book” and “…did you brush your teeth” and “is that a clean shirt?”

Which means I spend ten minutes riding, ten minutes doing other crap, another five on the bike. Could I tell you what’s going on in the show? Not really, because we start and stop it so many times I lose track of the plot. Or the computer decides to go to sleep (my fault, I should remember to fix that setting before we start. Maybe if I wasn’t supervising teeth brushing — seriously, how hard is it after 10  years of life to remember to BRUSH YOUR FRAKKING TEETH)

So, that was my morning so far and it’s only 8:27. Gonna shower and drink a Coke Zero and brush MAH TEEFS, gaddamn. Then I’m going to turn off the internet and maybe, just maybe…if not finish…come damn close to finishing the rough draft of this book today.

Anyone watching Boardwalk Empire? I do love some Steve Buscemi, fuhrealz.

M

Not so awesome when accompanied by “I’m going to pass” — because it was, apparently, TOO gritty and horrific.

Well, I was going for gritty, horrific, creepy and compelling. The well written I could only hope for. And to learn that someone actually thought it *was* all those things I tried for is very pleasing and satisfying and gratifying, because it means that at least I was judged, this work was judged, on what it IS and what it was MEANT TO BE…

Ultimately, it sucks hard and mightily that the editor passed on the book, because um, yes, I don’t write just for the praise. I do like to actually earn a living this way, which has to mean sales. So the rejection stung, as they nearly always do, just the way bad reviews do and which is why I try hard not to read them.

All in all, what are you gonna do? It’s not true that once you’re published you can just sell everything. People express surprise to me that I get rejected, and let me tell you, my lovelies, I not only get rejected, I get refused, declined and passed by also. It’s part of the job. The sucktastic part of the job (unlike the way cool parts like being able to stay home listening to Christian Bale singing the soundtrack from Newsies while I blog…I keep telling him to keep it down, but he’s saucy, that guy).

My work was called gritty and horrific, which is what I wanted it to be. It made someone shudder (presumably, or at least maybe gave her a small lip curl.) I’m really proud that something I did, words I wrote, caused a reaction. I always am. If you cry or laugh or get angry at reading one of my books, hey, that’s good. It means I’m doing something right.

Doesn’t mean I’m not upset by the rejection, but a Coke Zero and a Peanutty Bar (SO did not need that…gawd) and I’m back to work. Writing something that is ALSO going to be gritty, perhaps horrific, definitely disturbing if I can do it right. And it may also never get purchased, either. But I’m going to write it anyway.

Sometimes you just gotta do what needs doing.

M

Ummm….wrong.

Look. I’ve been digitally published since we called it e-publishing. Waaaaaay back when in oh…2001? 2002? Somewhere around there, and I wasn’t even in the front line. Epublishing has been around for quite a number of years, and during that time I’ve heard “Ebooks are the wave of the future! THEY ARE TEH FUTURRRRRRE!” and “Epublishing is going to replace print publishing!” And “ebooks are better!” and “print books are better!” and all manner of things that contradict one another.

But this is the reality, as I see it (and since this is my blog, that’s the version you get.) Ebooks are a delightful NEW FORMAT for readers to enjoy. Ebooks allow high-consumption for readers who plow through multiple books per week. Ebooks are mostly, not always, but often cheaper than their print counterparts (much the way mass market paperbacks are cheaper than hardcovers). Ebooks can be purchased and delivered literally, within seconds. Ebooks can be found in many online stores and locations, including but not limited to major online retailers like Amazon.com and BN.com. And, ebooks, for the most part, are still a teensy weensy eensy part of the overall sales of books.

Personally, I’m delighted that ebooks are finding their place finally. It’s long been my position that when ereaders became easily portable and financially feasible to buy, that ebooks were going to really take off. And what do you know? Kindle, Nook, iPad, some others I’m forgetting…I read them on my iPhone, myself, using Kindle for iphone and BN’s reader, and all manner of apps that allow me to purchase, download and read ebooks from just about any place I want. I’m delighted as a reader because this allows me to feed my reading habit in one more format and fashion. I’m less delighted as an author because frankly, my ebook royalties from my “traditional” publishers are not as beneficial as the ones from my primarily digital publishers. As an author, I think that sucks. I think it’s ridiculous. And I hope it changes as the publishing model, however slowly it changes, moves to accommodate this new format.

We all know that digital music has mostly replaced other formats. Again, speaking personally, I purchase and download music frequently. The only CDs I buy are from indie artists I see play live so that I can get them signed; for listening purposes, for ease and quality and simple convenience, I download  songs so that I can listen to them on my computer or iPod, because that’s how I consume that product. Digital music has replaced CDs for me and for many; it’s certainly replaced cassette tapes, 8 tracks and LP’s for the casual listener. Digital movies are replacing DVDs — I stream more video or download movies (legally, m’kay? Pay for that stuff, people, or else there won’t be more of it) than I buy DVD’s. I watch on my computer, via streaming on my Tivo or Wii, on my iphone, on an iPad. I consume more digital movies because it’s easier and more convenient now.

And this is exactly why ebooks are not now, nor perhaps ever going to disappear or be replaced totally by their digital counterparts.

Because music and movies ALWAYS require some sort of device in order to consume them. (Well, not live music, but that’s not what we’re talking about.) If you want to listen to a song or watch a movie, you MUST consume it via some piece of technology, whether it’s a VHS player or a Walkman, or a computer or an iPod or whatever.

Books require…your eyes.

Yep, that’s right. Print books of course need to be printed on paper, bound, distributed, etc. But in that format, all that you need to read them is YOUR EYES. You don’t need another piece of equipment to consume them, a piece of equipment that’s going to be obsolete in a few years. Or months. Printed books require YOU. The readers. And that’s it.

Which is why, in my opinion, ebooks are one more wonderful format in which to consume literature. Just like hardcovers, trade paperbacks, mass market paperbacks. Now we have digital. But ebooks and digital format are not going to totally replace ebooks any time soon, because let’s face it — there will be people for a long, long time who don’t have ereaders. I’m not saying digital books will NEVER outsell paper books. There may come a time when print is for specialists and the casual consumer really does do everything via a device. After all, it’s way more convenient to download a book, then delete it when you’re finished than have thousands of books taking up space in your house. But that time is not imminent. It’s not going to take over the print book world this year, or next year, or the year after that. It might happen someday, but it’s not going to happen all at once.

And you know what? Even if it does?

Ebooks are still books, people. Just because Stuart Skyisfalling hasn’t read one, or heard of one until the past year or so, that doesn’t mean they haven’t been around. Ebooks are books, made to be read and consumed by people who love to read. Digital is a format, not a genre, not a replacement, not something to fear. If you like reading on your Kindle, knock yourself out. If you like reading your hefty hardcover…well…you can do that, too.

In the end what matters is that you can find the books you want and love, that you can purchase them and enjoy them. If you love to read, you’re going to love to read. Authors can still write.

The sky is not falling.

The times are a changing, but that doesn’t have to be something to fear.

Me? Personally, I prefer paper books. I don’t have a dedicated ereader, though if I convince myself I need an iPad I’ll read on it because it’s a sweet, sweet reading experience. But I don’t want to take an iPad to the beach, or the pool. I like tossing a paperback into my bag and not worrying about it breaking. I like getting signed copies from authors I love and respect. I like having books on my shelf to pluck up at a whim and turn to a page randomly, I like them as decoration, I like the smell and feel of paper books. I read ebooks, but I love paper books. Yet I’m happy to have my work available in both formats. It doesn’t make one any less or more “real” than the other.

I don’t have the numbers, and I can’t link you to the plethora of articles about how the world of publishing is coming to an end. I think things need to change and while they do, we’re all going to be a little unsure of how it works and what might happen. But I know in my gut that books will continue to be published and people will read them.

I’m not worried how they read them. Just that they have them to read. No matter what format they come in.

M

Oh, I saw the articles in Entertainment Weekly, heard the buzz. But you came on in a time when I didn’t watch television, had no Tivo to help me. I didn’t care much about you, in the beginning.

And then…Netflix came into my life. That saucy whore. Teasing me, tempting me with unlimited rentals of programs I’d heard about but had never watched.

Like you.

So…yeah, I rented you at first. Just one disc. I said, “hey, if I don’t like you, I don’t ask you out again.” I didn’t know when I slipped you into the DVD player, slowly, carefully, that you’d turn out to be so. Damn. Beautiful. That first season murdered me. Tore me up, slit me open and sewed me up again. I screamed, I cried, I writhed.

I fell. Hard. Fast and deep. All the way.

Dr. Troy? Yes, please. Over and over again, and then one more time? Break my heart, please, because it yearns to be broken by the likes of you.

That first season was some of the most balls-to-the-wall, over-the-top, outrageous, horrifying, tantalizing, scintillating and sometimes disgusting television I’d ever seen. Oh, sure, you were too much to believe. Sure, you took everything that was good in anyone and turned it bad. I knew I could count on your characters to always make the wrong choices, no matter what.

You have no redeemeable qualities, Nip/Tuck. You know that? You know you’re filthy and unrepentant, don’t you? Just like you know you have me begging for more every single time you’re on.

Season two was next, and I ate that season. Oh, I didn’t rent any more. I had to OWN YOU. Yes, Nip/Tuck, you’re my filthy, nasty habit. I could watch you over again…and here’s a secret…oh, yes. Yes, I did. Snuck peeks at you during the day when I was supposed to be writing. “Research,” I called it. But we both know I lied. That’s what you do to me, Nip/Tuck, you turn me into your dirty, lying whore, and I LOVE IT.

Got caught up just in time for Season Three on broadcast, and with the help of some strange gadget called a DVD recorder (NOT A DVR, no, baby, this thing actually used RECORDABLE DISCS) I was able to keep up with you every week. Oh, sure, the dvds never recorded right and the timer was always off. Sure, I had to scream myself hoarse with frustration when I missed you. Thank God FX played you so many times I could always catch up.

This is it, Nip/Tuck. I wasn’t with you from the start, but I’ve been with you a damn long time. I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I’ve cringed. I’ve stayed with you through every single unbelievable, repulsive story twist and plot line. I kept up with you even when Sean and Christian moved to L.A. because…how fucking ridic was that? But I was there with you. Loving you. Yearning for you. Aching to be filled with your weekly dose of OMG WTF.

And now…

Now, we say goodbye.

There’s only one episode left. And I can’t watch it. I can’t. I cannot bear to watch you end.

Christian, Sean, Liz, Julia, Matt, Connor, Annie, Kimber…none of you could ever get your heads out of your asses, and with one more episode to go, I don’t see as how you possibly CAN. But I guess that’s okay, because it would be unfair to expect any of you to get it straight after so long.

And after all, isn’t it what I so loved about you? Your constant flaws? Your never-changing lack of common sense?

Oh, Nip/Tuck, my dear Nip/Tuck…my beloved Nip/Tuck. I weep in advance at the thought of losing you. You were the one show I cheated on Supernatural with. The one I have to watch. Must see. Can’t be without.

I’m going to miss you.

<3,

M

I also edited a Spice Brief called The Experiment and sent that off to my editor; so that’s what I do instead of watching The Super Bowl. I work. Oh, I did play some Sims 3 earlier today, but I don’t really count it since I was actually editing while I just let my Sim lady go about her business.

She discovered a star.

I know, right? Who knew they even could? Left to her business, she will play her guitar a lot and flirt with people. She also apparently likes to discover stars. And she found some seeds, but I don’t think she’ll plant them. Well, maybe she will, I don’t know.

Tomorrow I aim to get up at a good time (instead of letting the alarm just go off, then again, then again later…) which means I intend to get to bed very shortly. Which is also what I’m doing instead of watching the Super Bowl. Going to be early. I believe I shall read. Now, I just finished Under the Dome which was a doorstop of a book, my God, over 1000 pages, really? REALLY?! And I think I’m going to read The Lightning Thief or possibly The Dead and Gone next. Because I feel like it.

On the other hand, if I’m going to dive back into Collide tomorrow, I really should read through it to refresh my memory. So maybe I’ll take that to bed with me instead, and go over it.

See, that’s what I do instead of watching football.

I work!

M

There are people in particular who elicit this reaction more frequently in me than others. Ebook pirates, for example? Fuck you. And if you think downloading a book from a file sharing site doesn’t make you an ebook pirate, again, fuck you.

And then there are…individuals. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could simply erase people from our lives who consistently and without fail find a way to squirt a huge, messy pile of fecal matter onto our days? You probably have someone or more than one, if you’re unlucky, like that. I do. I am blessed with a few forons I just can’t get rid of, and to them, I usually say nothing in the interest of taking the higher road, etc.

I don’t feel like that high road today. Today I feel like pointing a finger and saying “fuck you, you suppurating anal fissure, you pus-encrusted cyst, you infected, gangrenous, oozing, fecal-infested, maggot-ridden piece of offal.” That’s what I feel like saying today.

Not to you. Or you. Or not to you over there in the corner, and certainly not to YOU, either, I mean, really, you’re fabulous.

But to those unnamed pustules, those bile-filled blisters, I say:

what don’t you fucking understand?

It makes me happier when I can actually listen to the music I buy on the CD, which is not what happened this time. Sadly, the CD had something wrong with it, and unlike buying something from a retail store, there’s no way to return it, right? So what did I do? I emailed via Facebook to say hey, I know you’re probably not the specific person to tell, but I bought your CD, it doesn’t work, I’m out ten bucks, can you send a replacement? I’d gladly return the defective one on my own dime (because you know what, guys without record deals are making their own CDs somehow and probably footing the bill, and they’re playing gigs to spread their music, I get it! That’s why I buy the CDs!)

So I get a reply, oh, so sorry, this is [name redacted]‘s “people”, that’s happened before, and we’ll send you another CD right away, and btw, also send you a tshirt for your trouble.

Well, that’s great, right? Very cool. I replied that I don’t need a t-shirt, though I won’t turn it down, here’s my address, thank you so much, I appreciate it!

That was, I kid you not, JULY 27.

Yeah, so I emailed a few times after that, politely, to say, hey, it never arrived.

“Oh, so sorry, we’ll send you another right away.”

August 28th, I followed up.
And on December 3.

You know what? Don’t promise me a new disc and a tshirt and then not send one. Three times. I don’t like being lied to, I don’t like being jerked around. I spent ten bucks for a CD that doesn’t WORK. I didn’t blast them with emails saying they sucked, I just let them know of the problem and was told it would be taken care of. Multiple times. And it hasn’t.

And, this, my doves, is how to NOT MAKE FANS.

It is, in fact, a good way to lose fans. I didn’t go to that show to hear that guy sing, I was there to hear someone else, but I bought that guys’ CD because I was there and liked his sound and thought I’d support him. Now all I have is a CD that doesn’t work and a bad taste in my mouth about the whole thing.

Now, it’s not really my practice to call people out on the internet, so I’m not going to say his name, but the people who were with me know who he is, and anyone who cares could probably figure it out, since the only concerts I’ve been to recently were documented on this blog. And it wasn’t someone that I’ve talked about on here, other than very briefly, because as I said, I didn’t go to the show to hear him sing; he was just there.

And I know it’s not *him* — it’s his *people* but he really should get new people because frankly, they suck at their jobs. And he’s the one affected. Because I didn’t buy their CD, I bought his, and I won’t buy another.

I know stuff gets lost, I know I’ve mailed things that take a long time to arrive, but I do my best that if I say something went out, it goes out. If I promise a fan to send something, I try hard to send it — and if they tell me it didn’t get there, I do my best to make sure I find out where it DID go if they didn’t get it. I try hard to make sure I live up to the expectations made of me. If something’s wrong with one of my books, that’s my publisher’s job to replace it (in essence, my “people”) but if I found out a reader had contacted them and been pushed aside over and over, well…I’d be pretty upset, because it’s *MY* name that’s getting smeared.

So that’s that. I don’t expect a replacement CD and at this point, even if it arrives, I don’t really want it.

M

Yeah, so it’s snowing here. A lot. We have about four inches (so I’m told by the spawn with the ruler) and it’s still coming down. Hooray! I feel like watching Equilibrium or something equally delicious and playing the Sims 3 and generally being lazy. Yes, lazy. But I also feel like I should do some work. Which you know, isn’t lazy.

But I would like to say a couple things that I was thinking about…

A “book” is not a short story or even a novella. It has to deal with word count. I’m all for short stories, and I love novellas. But they are not books. And it sort of grates on my when writers call every piece they write a “book” when in fact, it’s a short story or a novella. A book to me is at least 50,000 words. Maybe there’s an official word count, I don’t know, but a “book” is NOT a short story, that’s all I can say. I have published a number of short stories and also novellas, and also novels, and while normally I’m the first to admit that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and therefore can not tell you how to do it, too, I will say with utter confidence:

A book is not a short story.

M

You obviously already have a decent job. Keep that one.

M