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A Forced Wedding.
A Double Execution.
Two Thieves Have Other Plans.

The New Empire intends to celebrate its victory over the Nationalists with a day that will never be forgotten. On the high holiday of Wintertide the empress will be married. Degan Gaunt and the Witch of Melengar will be publically executed. Then the empress will suffer a fatal accident leaving the empire in the hands of the new emperor. It will be a perfect day. There is only one problem—Royce and Hadrian have finally found Degan Gaunt.

For those just tuning in, Wintertide is the fifth book in the six book Riyria Revelations series. It is scheduled for release in October, and just as recent as two weeks ago I wondered if it would make it.

I wrote all six books in the series before the first was published. I wrote them as one story divided up into episodes. So if you can imagine, I dreamed up this grand tale and then figured out how to break that down into smaller book-length stories with their own beginning, anti-climax, climax, and end. Then I wrote it straight through, one book after another finishing the last one during the period following my signing a contract to publish the first book, but before it was released.

Now when I wrote them, as I completed each book, I went back and edited each. I looked for mistakes certainly, but I was really looking at “how it read” and to be certain that the pacing and the story worked. I wasn’t studying the grammar or searching for consistency of names and such, because well, at that time I never dreamed I would be publishing the books and assumed only three people might read them, so why bother.

That’s the way it was with all the books. I wrote The Crown Conspiracy in a month (September of 2004) and I wrote Avempartha in the same length of time in the following month (October 2004) but as you might guess, writing at that speed, the books were not perfect. It wasn’t an issue because I never planned to send either to an agent or publisher. I slowed down a bit as I wrote Nyphron Rising taking three or four months to write it, and Emerald Storm was interrupted by our move to the DC area, which left the book in a year-long dormancy.

Wintertide was the first book I fully wrote in Virginia. The first book I wrote after obtaining an agent who gave me the ego boost of saying the books were publishable. The first book I wrote after having learned some fundamentals about writing that I was missing, that my agent gently informed me of, and for which I will always be grateful.

As a result, I felt my writing had improved significantly and this was supported by my wife Robin when, directly after Emerald Storm was released she picked up the manuscript for Wintertide, read it through, and proclaimed it was great and unlike the previous books would not require much work at all. You see, Robin is my first critic/editor. She always does the first pass and it is her job to find fault. I was therefore very pleased to hear that Wintertide would be a breeze to put out and looked forward to a summer vacation.

It didn’t happen.

Robin read the book through three or four times and each time she found new problems. I’m not talking about using “that” when it should be “which” or using the wrong form of “lay” or my infamous use of “starred” when I mean “stared,” but plot problems.

As I said when I wrote the books I didn’t expect them to get published. The same is true of Wintertide. I had an agent, but that is like owning a lottery ticket—it’s a step closer, but it doesn’t mean you’ll win. There were a few aspects of the story I had never been satisfied with, and Robin found those. When she did—when I saw someone other than myself picked up on the same weakness, I knew it had to be changed. Luckily the problems are in-book issues and don’t affect the series as a whole, and center mostly on eliminating contrivances and strengthening character motivations.

Robin took the book, went through it and highlighted all the flaws. Then she made a valiant effort to re-build the book for me, going so far as to actually write new scenes. She struggled with it for weeks and then handed it back to me with a miserable look saying, “I think I broke the book.”

I read it through and agreed. It was a mess, but now that she had revealed the flaws, they had to be addressed. And while her solutions were logical and structurally sound, they reduced the story to the spectator sport of drying paint. Reading it was like driving a car with a serious imbalance in the wheels. The pacing was way off and suffered from the unforgivable sin of being boring.

I took the pile of tattered pages, crumpled, stained and scribbled (metaphorically as it was really a heavily marked up doc file) and right in what should have been my summer vacation (I look forward to one every year, but it never seems to materialize,) with less than a hundred days left before the scheduled release, I began literary CPR.

Sequestered in my office, fortified with coffee, I tried to sew up the damage, but it wasn’t working. I was losing the patient. The more I tried to smooth out the bumps the worse it got. Eventually I scrapped the whole first half of the book and started over. I went all the way back to reworking the story at the outline level, forcing myself to forget how the story had been for years and re-envisioned it. For me this was a little like trying to forget ten years of your life and imagine something else happened instead.

Over the course of one very long day, I paced, I walked, and I pondered as I reconstructed half the novel. By the end, I had a new outline. I showed it to Robin, who was dubious.

“I don’t know,” she told me with a clear tone of desperation in her voice. “I can’t tell from an outline. I can’t see it like you can.”

The next day I began writing with a cloud over my head. Emails came in asking when Wintertide would be out. My neighbor stopped me on the sidewalk. “I can’t wait for Wintertide! When’s that gonna be ready? I want to know what will happen to Arista!”

Sigh. I don’t like writing under pressure.

About ten days later it was done and I handed it off to Robin. I had no idea. Like the myopic builder of a skyscraper, I waited to find out what I had done.

“You saved it!” she beamed. Then her brow furrowed. “Well, mostly. It still needs a bit of work.”

Back and forth it went after that, problems found, problems fixed until at last the book felt sturdy enough to allow a new set of eyes to judge it. We waited as our friend, and new Ridan intern, Annie, read through the newly revised version.

“It’s good. I really liked it, but…”

We braced ourselves expecting the worst. Turned out the “but,” while important, was relatively minor and easily corrected. Actually there were many “buts” and it took the better part of a week to hammer out each. The issues at stake were small, and in some cases, perhaps unnoticeable by the average reader, but each was debated between Robin and Annie over our dinner table with all the passion of two trial lawyers working a murder case and leaving me to make the decisions.

Yesterday the last changes were finished and the new improved Wintertide has finally entered the line-editing stage. The building is over and the sanding has commenced. By August I hope the polishing will begin and by October, if all goes well, Royce and Hadrian will ride again.

I’m aware I haven’t posted in a while but I have a good excuse. I’ve been working on Wintertide—tearing it down to the studs and building it up again. I’ve been feeling a little pressured with the clock ticking for the October release, and it is not like this is the only thing I’m dealing with…

A funny thing happened after I was published and the books gained some traction. I started receiving requests from people asking for help. When I was an aspiring novelist, no one ever asked me for help. Overnight that all changed. Some people have asked me to mentor them, one even offered to pay me. Most folks just ask for feedback on a story, or advice on getting published. More recently, I’ve been asked to provide quotes for the backs of books, and a few people have even asked me to do book covers for them. One woman recently asked me to write a comment for a Library fund raiser—being the apparent household literary name that I am. Unless I’m really busy, (like this past month) I usually manage to help out.

Robin’s the same way. She loves to help writers. Being married to one she knows the heartbreak and elation that comes with the curse. As a self-made expert on the publishing industry, she took over a writer’s group that was about to be disbanded for lack of a leader and began giving a series of lectures on how to get published, find agents, or even self-publishing. She doesn’t charge money, even though she pays the meetup.com people for hosting the group, and prints handouts and such. It takes a lot of her time, both in preparing the material and the lectures themselves which go on for hours as people linger to ask questions. The idea of charging aspiring writers for anything is like thinking of slapping a beaten dog. Not only does it not feel right, it’s how you know they expect to be treated making it even sadder.

As for ourselves, Robin and I aren’t the type of people to ask for help. We come from relatively poor families and went out on our own at a young age, paying for our own wedding and college, scrapping together our house down payment, and taking in boarders to make ends meet. It has made us very self-sufficient and self-reliant. When it comes to my books we’ve done virtually everything ourselves, making mistakes along the way and hopefully learning from them. We don’t begrudge having to work hard, it is through hard work that one obtains a sense of accomplishment. And the publishing industry has given us plenty of challenges to overcome.

So, while we don’t ask for help we do spend a lot of time helping others. We aren’t saints. We don’t go out of our way to find people in trouble, but when I was a kid, I remember my father never passed a car stuck in the snow or broke down without offering help. I think I inherited that trait and even circled back on freeways when I missed a stranded motorist because I didn’t see them in time and was caught off guard.

As we’ve gotten older, I’ve found helping people who appreciate what you do for them is far more rewarding than making a boat load of money from people who could care less. Is it any wonder I’m a novelist?

Once at one of Robin’s seminars, a grateful woman told us, “You’re going to be very successful. Wait and see. Everything you’ve been doing for others, will come back to you.” At the time I smiled politely and nodded, I do that a lot when I’m not sure what to say. It was nice. It expressed her appreciation, and that was wonderful, but…

Then came a metaphorical knock at the door. Several actually. People offering to help. At first it was the bloggers who promoted my books, then fans (some professional editors), began asking to help edit the manuscripts for free—my secret beta army. Most recently however, there have been three developments that have blown us away.

First, Nathan Lowell, author of the Solar Clipper series, (Quarter Share is the first in the series) and Podiobooks phenomenon, has offered to record The Crown Conspiracy into audio for me. Mr. Lowell is a fantastic talent, if you want to be totally swept away go listen to his books on podiobooks.com, they are free but after enjoying them I’m sure you’ll put a donation in the tip jar. I am amazed at the man’s generosity. He’s already begun recording and what I’ve heard so far is wonderful.

Through a series of strange developments where one person told another and so on, I have found a new Foreign Language Rights Agent who is closing a deal with a major publisher in the Czech Republic, before she begins following leads in other countries. Assuming everything works out as it appears to be, I will be paid my first advance by a publisher.

Lastly, and while clearly the most tenuous, it holds the most outlandishly exciting prospect. An individual I met accidentally, with successful ties to the motion picture industry, has agreed to turn The Crown Conspiracy into a screenplay with the intention of getting a movie deal. It might be like trying to get to the moon by building a giant slingshot, but hey, it’s a chance.

All of these things have come about unsolicited. Offers of assistance out of the blue. Even if nothing comes from any of this, for a guy who’s ultimate goal was to sell a grand total fifty books to people he didn’t know, this is pretty amazing and a confirmation that what goes around comes around.

For years now, I have heard fans of the traditional “Tolkienquese” fantasy novels lament the repetitive themes and exhausted archetypes of the genre. They are tired of the same old hero-vanquishing-evil and want something new, something more real, more believable. Which to me sounds like someone saying they love chocolate, they just wished it had less chocolate in it, and maybe tasted more like vanilla. Many writers struggle to appease, whether that means turning an old theme on its head, or going for the gritty and morbid. Over the last few decades this trend has resulted in fantasy going dark. Evil often wins. Heroes don’t exist.

This happened before.

The motion picture industry turned out happy endings for decades, then in the Sixties things began to change. Gritty, realistic, films began to pop up and anti-heroes like The Man With No Name arrived in the Italian western. The trend solidified in the Seventies, with moviemakers like Scorsese, De Laurentiis, Coppela, and Kubrick who often focused on complex, and unpleasant themes. It was theorized that the public was tired of the old good-triumphs-over-evil stories because it was so out of sync with the realities of the American experience during the age of Watergate, the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights movement and the Sexual Revolution.

Then Star Wars debuted in 1977 and everything began to change.

I remember seeing Star Wars the weekend it debuted. I wasn’t expecting anything and I was debating between it and the cartoon movie Wizards. Only one early review for Star Wars was out, a small block article in The Detroit News that slammed it for being unoriginal and using just about every movie cliché that existed, but did add, that it was surprisingly entertaining. It was the comment about movie clichés that tipped the scales for me. I never cared for the gritty realism of Midnight Cowboy and Taxi Driver. I liked the old films, the ones I saw on tv that I was too young to have seen at a theater. When the movie ended and the credits were rolling, I had one thought—-so that’s a movie.

I saw the same scenario play out to some degree in the fantasy book world. This time it was a novel series by a new author who made the unforgivable mistake of writing a hero-story using every clichéd trapping available. It was actually the tale of a young boy destined to defeat an evil dark lord and save the world from destruction. It even had an old mentor wizard guiding him as well as a mottle crew of humorous sidekicks (not unlike Star Wars.) According to the professed mentality of the consumer, the books should have been laughable. In serious times, people don’t want trite tales of do-gooders with happy endings. They should have been panned as the worst kind of old-fashioned echo. Instead, there is a Harry Potter theme park in Florida now.

So I have to wonder—what’s the deal?

An aspiring writer friend of mine was working on a book in which a talking cat plays an important role. He presented part of his story to a writer’s workshop and the overwhelming response was that the talking cat was cliché—a tired device as old as Alice in Wonderland. He was depressed afterward and over drinks asked me if his story was even worth pursuing anymore, as it wouldn’t work without the cat. I told him that the cat doesn’t matter. All that matters is if the story is good and if it is well written.

You see, I don’t think people so much hate to read the same type of story, they just hate to read bad stories. There are an infinite number of ways to combine old ideas to create new books. If the plot is good, if the reader cares for the characters, if the setting feels real, then it doesn’t matter if it’s about talking cats, or boys destined to defeat an evil dark lord. And trying to write a completely original story is sort of like trying to compose music with all original notes. It’s not necessary, and I’m not even certain it’s possible.

Children everywhere are raised to believe in absolutes. There are right ways and wrong ways of doing everything. This is understandable, as you have to start somewhere. However, with age quite often comes experience and a wider view of the world reveals multiple methods to achieve the same results. The value of one over another exposed as merely opinion. Yet, as with all things, some are convinced their opinions are better than others and can’t abide even the existence of a contrary thought.

Recently, my wife who has assumed the role of editor-in-chief of my books has been aggravated over the mystery of English grammar. This is a woman who graduated valedictorian of her high school, graduated in the top 3% of her engineering college class, and worked her way from grunt to president of an international corporation by the age of twenty-eight. Still, commas baffle her. Having an analytical, scientific mind, she wants everything to make sense…consistently. Math is her friend, grammar is more of a stand-offish acquaintance.

Math and I hate each other. Always have. We avoid each other as much as possible. Growing up, teachers and parents insisted I would need math no matter what I chose to do with my life. I proved them all wrong. Math is that disagreeable bastard I only speak to in proxy. “Honey, tell Math I hate him. Oh yeah, and find out how much money I made this month on book sales.” The idea that I needed to memorize all the tables that Math proudly admitted went on to infinity, was insane. But, like most early relationships, it was the Big Lie that broke us up. When after years of telling me you can’t subtract a larger number from a smaller one, Math admitted you could. What else was Math lying about? I could never trust him again and it was time to move on.

I never cared much for English either. The idea that I would have to memorize the spelling of every single word in the language, while not as crazy as the infinity-challenge of Math, it was still too daunting a task to seriously consider. Sure, teachers promised you could use rules like i before e to take the guesswork out, but just like Math, it was all a con. The rules never worked.

Art never asked me to memorize anything. He had no rules so he couldn’t lie. Art made no demands and just wanted to please. I hung out with Art, cause Art was cool. Art was the guy who never went to class, who smoked pot and talked about multiple universes while laying on the grass in torn jeans watching the clouds roll by. He wasn’t the kind you wanted your parents to see you hanging out with. “Why don’t you hang out with Math and English more? They’re nice. You’ll never amount to anything if you keep associating with that Art.”

Thing was, I did have this crush on English. Once I got over the “books have cooties stage,” I fell in love. I wouldn’t admit it at school, but I secretly wrote stories. I knew I didn’t have a chance—not with English. Talk about aiming too high. She was unfathomable and fickle, but I tried anyway. The thing is, I learned she wasn’t as stuck-up, or straight-laced as everyone said. Turned out, when I got her alone, she was a lot more like Art than Math. It was only when she was out with people. People that expected her to be so buttoned-down and perfect all the time that she froze up. That’s when I realized the problem.

Perception.

I remember an old Barney Miller episode where an English aficionado was distressed by the degradation of the English language by advertising. He freaked at ads with words like “flavorosity!” and “scrumptiousnessity!’ He railed against the affront with all the fervor of a high priest faced with blasphemy. At the time, I thought it was funny.

In the early eighties, an English major I worked with was beside herself when she saw the word “glitz” in the newspaper. “It isn’t a word!” she screamed as if in pain, and ranted for days on the subject, which somehow bled through to the fall of society as we know it. Of course nowadays, glitz is a word. So is muggle, even though my Word spell check disagrees for now.

Living languages, grow. They change.

The word for the tops of multiple buildings used to be written, rooves, just like hooves. Sometime ago that changed to roofs. Why? Because that is how the majority of people preferred it and used it.

That’s the thing about language. It isn’t Math. It isn’t Science. There is no singular authority on the subject. Many people and organizations attempt to declare themselves such, or point to references they feel are absolute, but in reality, the English language has no rules. Latin does, because Latin is dead, but as long as English is alive, any practitioner of the language is an authority on it. Anyone can invent a word, or alter the grammar to suit themselves, and if it proves sound to the general users, it will become chiseled into the framework. Shakespeare is cited as having invented at least 1,700 words and phrases and he was only a lowly playwright not a college professor, Prime Minister of Language, or even the king. That’s what it means to be a living language.

And yet, there are always Grammar Nazis who insist that all writing in English must conform to a set of highly arcane rules that read like a different language in themselves.

“Common introductory phrases that should be followed by a comma include participial and infinitive phrases, absolute phrases, nonessential appositive phrases, and long prepositional phrases (over four words).”

Stereo installation instructions are easier to follow.

This is why it isn’t unusual to find self-accredited authorities on the subject who disagree with one another. Perhaps the most famous being whether or not to place a comma before the “and” in a list. (I frequently leave out the “and” altogether in protest.) But put any two editors in a room, propose a question, and you’ll likely get three answers.

This is what drives my editor/wife insane. She hangs out with Math. She likes an ordered world where the rules never change (let’s not talk about negative numbers, I still have flashbacks.) She feels certain that there must be an answer to all this confusion. If only she was smarter. If only she studied the sacred tomes of Englishosity more she could find the holy grail of comma usage and this would let her sleep at night.

My opinion is different.

Language, like Art, is communication. As long as I get my point across clearly, concisely, consistently, and with as little confusion as possible—it’s good. The rest is pretentious fascism—which, of course, is why I don’t edit my own books. Did I mention I hung out with Art in school?

(While researching the proper usage of the term Grammar Nazi–which apparently I did not coin–I found this. Be advised, while funny, it contains strong language.)

This is a bit last minute, but SciFiGuy has just posted an interview they did with me, and are holding a day long commentary chat. I’ll be on hand to answer questions and make comments. The cool thing is, if you post a question for me, you are then entered in a contest to win a free copy of The Emerald Storm. So if you have questions you’d like me to put to rest for you, would like to learn more about me, or just want the chance at a free book, drop by SciFiGuy today and say hello.

Books, Website Information | Elena Nola | April 20, 2010 at 7:18 pm

The final round of BSC’s fourth annual Book Tournament (best of 2009) came down to Michael J. Sullivan’s Avempartha and Catherynne Valente’s Palimpsest. It was everything a year-end best of contest should be: democratically selected, round-by-round from 64 of the most-discussed titles of the year; weighted in favor of informed voters who can argue why their choice is the best; publicly chosen (we know the meaning of transparency around here!); and symbolized with a tight graphic from one of the competitors (thanks, Michael!).

So what was the contention? Traditional sword and sworcery vs. lyrical mysticism. Series vs. stand-alone title. A title no one knows how to say vs. a title no one knows how to spell.

The race was closely matched, with the lead changing hands back and forth several times through the week of voting and arguing. No one appeared to change their vote based on the eloquence of the other team, and both of the competitors dropped in to shake hands and rally their supporters. But, as with the Highlanders, in the end there could be only one…winner. Without any question, based on total number of votes as well as the total points allotted for the vote plus articulate reason, the best book of 2009, according to BSC readers, was…

…AVEMPARTHA!

Congratulations, Michael J. Sullivan! And congratulations as well to Catherynne Valente for falling to only one book and getting herself nominated for a Hugo!

Thanks to all of you who participated in our tournament this year–hope to see you back next year!

(As copied from http://www.bscreview.com/2010/04/2009-book-tournament-winner/)

Thanks to BSC for giving me the chance to compete. This was wonderful. And a special thank you to everyone who came out to support Riyria. I am not joking or exaggerating when I say this maybe the only contest I have ever won in my life, and oddly enough I didn’t do anything but watch. Now I know how Royce and Hadrian feel when they are hanging helpless in a dungeon awaiting elimination only to be unexpectedly saved.

You folks are truly great.

This morning I woke up to see who won the BSC Tournament as it was scheduled to end at 8pm last night, only to find people still posting this morning. Unsure what to make of that I went on with my morning ritual of checking mail, blogs and Google alerts. And what to my wondering eyes should I find? A notice that looked to be a review on The Crown Conspiracy by someone or some site listed as Ink and Quill.

There was a time when my heart stopped whenever I ran across a review of my books, but that was hundreds of reviews ago. In many ways, reviews are like diseases that you need to build up an immunity to. The first time you encounter one–a real one, not your mother or girl-friend’s opinion–you can either be devastated for weeks or left walking on air. My very first review by a total stranger who was not afraid of insulting me, trashed my book. In retrospect, he didn’t, but it certainly felt that way. He was an aspiring writer, and they can be the harshest critics. It was the week The Crown Conspiracy was released, and because this was the only review I had, I assumed everyone would agree. I was demoralized, thoroughly miserable, and wondering if there was a way to recall the books. Then other reviews surfaced, glowing, spirited endorsements of my genius and I felt a bit better. It actually took several positive reviews to offset the one negative impact. But once there was sufficient padding there, once enough authoritative rulings were passed in my favor, I stopped being terrified. Even if one person said it was crap, I knew many more who thought otherwise and this provided me with the immunization to the shocks of opinion.

When I saw the link to this review on Ink and Quill, I was not terribly concerned. After all, Crown has been out for well over a year, and in my publishing schedule that’s a lifetime ago. If it had been a review of Emerald Storm I would have been eager to see what the verdict was. Instead, I grabbed a fresh cup of coffee while the screen refreshed. When I returned I was stunned.

This was no ordinary review.

Most of the time, someone with a personal blog reads my book and writes a few paragraphs on it. By now they are pretty much the same paragraphs. Occasionally, and this has been happening more and more recently, a bigger blogger, or online magazine does a piece on one of my books. Still, it is usually just a few paragraphs running over familiar ground—the same likes, the same criticisms. But what I was looking at while holding my now forgotten cup of coffee was not a blog. It was not an article. I was staring at a podcast—an hour-long podcast all about The Crown Conspiracy.

I punched the play button with my mouse and listened. All of a sudden the old fear returned. This was a new virus. I didn’t have much resistance built up against “hearing” strangers discuss my book. I’ve attended book groups, but that is very different. Few people have the courage to eviscerate an author to his face. So I sat back, cup in hand and listened nervously, feeling much as if I was eavesdropping on the wonderful woman I dated the night before as she discussed me to her girl-friend. I wasn’t at all certain I wanted to hear this.

To find out how this story ends click here and listen to the podcast discussion of The Crown Conspiracy by Ink and Quill. For those of you who have not read the book the first portion, prior to the commercials, is without spoilers, but the latter two-thirds after the commercials digs into the story in detail and should be avoided until you’ve read the novel.

While the fourth book in the Riyria Revelations series has been available for a week on Amazon, and longer than that on Kindle, there are some of you who have patiently waited to buy the book direct from me hoping to keep your sets of signed copies complete.

The wait is over. The books are here and the order page is up.

Enjoy.

Life has been hectic.

The Emerald Storm went live a week ago, but from that moment on Robin and I’ve been slammed. First there was Ravencon, which was immediately followed by a tradeshow, an emergency at Robin’s work, taxes, and a dozen other things. (Yes, in addition to editing and publicizing my work and helping other authors, she also has a demanding full-time job–can you believe it?)

The point is, the books are in and the order page for signed copies should be up and active later today, assuming Robin can keep her eyes open long enough to help me with that. She was up doing an all-nighter, but only she knows the arcane magic that allows people to buy my books online.

As part of my sales-pitch to people at signings I jokingly mention that all the books in this series are finished so that even if I were to be hit by a bus, my wife could still put them out and not leave the readers hanging. What I failed to mention is how unlikely it will be for me to put out the rest of the series if anything happened to Robin.

So, sorry for the delay, but think of it this way, you’ll have less time to wait for Wintertide once you finish this one.

And thanks to everyone who voted for Avempartha on the BSC Tournament (see posts below.) Polls are still open until 8pm Monday, and this battle is really close. Seems like it is always tied.

Fantasy Book Critic is giving away three free copies of The Emerald Storm, and it looks like not a lot of people are entering so you’ll likely have a good shot at it. The contest ends on the 16th.

Avempartha won the last fight sending Royce and Hadrian to the final round. In the words of the tournament organizer:

“The dark horse takes the match with a KO victory; only the final match stands between Avempartha and the champion belt.”

Unfortunately, this looks to be the boss round. In the last match-up I was up against Santa Olivia a bestselling novel by a bestselling author. This round Avempartha’s opponent is none other than Palimpsest by Catherynne Valente. In case you haven’t heard, only days ago Palimpsest was announced as one of the finalists in another competition…the Hugo Awards.

Go here to vote for the last time.

Okay, let’s face it, I never expected to clear the first round. I’m still not sure how on earth I got into this tournament. I mean look at the list of books and authors in this competition:

Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie
The Price of Spring by Daniel Abraham
The Other City by Michal Ajvaz
On the Edge by Ilona Andrews
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
The Judging Eye by R. Scott Bakker
The Warded Man by Peter V. Brett
The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart by Jesse Bullington
Turn Coat by Jim Butcher
God of Clocks by Alan Campbell
Santa Olivia by Jacqueline Carey
Soulless by Gail Carriger
Fire by Kristin Cashore
Regenesis by C. J. Cherryh
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
The Adamantine Palace by Stephen Deas
The Other Lands by David Anthony Durham
Dust of Dreams by Steven Erikson
A Magic of Nightfall by S.L. Farrell
Wings of Wrath by C. S. Friedman
Gears of the City by Felix Gilman
Hand of Isis by Jo Graham
A Madness of Angels: Or The Resurrection of Matthew Swift by Kate Griffin
The Dwarves by Markus Heitz
Dragon Keeper by Robin Hobb
Avilion by Robert Holdstock
In the Valley of the Kings by Terrence Holt
The Enchantment Emporium by Tanya Huff
Buyout by Alexander C. Irvine
The Gathering Storm by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson
Sandman Slim by Richard Kadrey
I Kill Giants by Joe Kelly and JM Ken Niimura
Twelve by Jasper Kent
City Without End by Kay Kenyon
The Silver Mage by Katharine Kerr
The Red Tree by Caitlin R. Kiernan
The Unincorporated Man by Dani Kollin and Eytan Kollin
Heart’s Blood by Juliet Marillier
Cyberabad Days by Ian McDonald
Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire
The City & the City by China Mieville
Magic in the Blood by Devon Monk
Hater by David Moody
The Steel Remains by Richard Morgan
Nights of Villjamur by Mark Charan Newton
Red Claw by Philip Palmer
Unseen Academicals by Terry Pratchett
Boneshaker by Cherie Priest
The Red Wolf Conspiracy by Robert V. S. Redick
Yellow Blue Tibia by Adam Roberts
The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
The Ghost King by R. A. Salvatore
Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson
Lamentation by Ken Scholes
Drood by Dan Simmons
Silksinger by Laini Taylor
The Strain by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan
Finch by Jeff VanderMeer
Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld
The Burning Skies by David J. Williams
Julian Comstock: A Story of 22nd-Century America by Robert Charles Wilson
Retribution Falls by Chris Wooding

These are huge names, and impressive books! They are all gone now, and it is down to Palimpsest and Avempartha. That’s just crazy. I feel like I should be punching slabs of meat or running up and down the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

At this point, it no longer matters if I win or lose. I’ve already won. BSC isn’t going to give the winner a trip to Hawaii or big publishing contract. The big reward for me is exposure, and just by making it to the final round I will have obtained the maximum exposure possible. Already hundreds of people who wouldn’t normally know about my books are now at least mildly curious. They might not buy it, but they will remember it as that unknown book by that unknown author that somehow made it to the finals in that little book tournament. And that’s actually a bigger deal than it sounds. When you’re living on breadcrumbs, getting a whole slice is a fortune.

Thanks once more to all of you who supported me and for all the wonderful things you said about the book and the series, and for being my voice when I’m not allowed to have one.

I’m on my way out the door to RavenCon, but I just wanted to make the quick announcement…Emerald Storm is live on Amazon.

It will be a few more days before we get a link up for signed copies, but as of today, the book is officially released. Enjoy.