Michael J. Sullivan's Blog, page 76

First Week's Sales

Hello all, Robin again, stealing Michael's blog to make some announcements. We are just two weeks from the release of The Crown Tower, which is pretty darn exciting. Since signing with Orbit, Michael and I have learned a lot about the ins and outs of traditional publishing. Going into this second launch through a major press we know much more than we did the first time around.


One of the differences between self-publishing and traditional is the length of the runway.Traditional published books generally have a "big first week" and then sales fall off sharply. Here is a graph I took from data from a recent release of a well known author (and this particular data came from a book that hit the New York Times in its first week).



I've looked at a lot of Bookscan data (that's a service from Nielsen that tracks actual print books sold, week by week), and most show similar curves.

Self-publishing books have a different curve. They generally start out modest, grow in momentum, then level off for a long while, and then can slowly decay if the author isn't putting out more books.  It wasn't too surprising then, that Michael's Bookscan data for Riyria Revelations didn't mimic most books.


Notice how Theft of Swords took seven weeks to build it's momentum, and it's fall off wasn't nearly as bad as most traditional books experience.  Plus it saw a good upsurge when Heir of Novron was released (these graphs show weeks from release - and as such Rise and Heir are pushed backward.  Heir of Novron actually started out with higher sales, and again the fall off wasn't as steep as most traditional books.

All in all, Michael's books have held up well.  We are more than a year and a half since the books came out and while the sales aren't blockbuster level they have been strong and steady.

With the approach of "The Riyria Chronicles," we are more focused on the all important "first week sales." It is this first week where a book has its best chance at hitting a bestseller list, and while we have no illusions that the remoteness of that possibility, it's still worth putting an extra effort into.

Orbit, as always, has been great with their support, and the head of marketing came up with a great idea to encourage pre-orders (which count as "first week sales).  Since there was a feeling that some current Riyria Revelations readers might be anxious for the new books, they are offering some incentives for those that pre-order.  Here's what you can get:

Because pre-ordering is so important, Orbit is rewarding our early supporters with a number of perks including:
Signed (and dedicated if desired) bookplates to put in your print copies*Signed bookmarks (1 for you and 2 to share with your friends)*Entry for a drawing of a signed copy of The Crown Tower - keep it for yourself and give your pre-order to a friend ;-)Free copy of The Jester a Royce and Hadrian short story made possible with the permission of Shawn Speakman, editor of the Unfettered Anthology where the story was first published (Limited to the first 500 entries)
*Because of the high cost of shipping, the bookmarks and bookplates are only available in the US and Canada, but all locations are eligible for the signed book and the free short story.




So, if you were planning on getting The Crown Tower at some point, consider pre-ordering in the next few weeks.  The perks will end once the books go "live" on Amazon. All you need to do is fill out a quick survey so we know what perks you want, and where to send them to. If you want more details here is a link .

Also, I'd like you know there are a few other things going on that you might be interested in:

Goodreads giveaway (open to US & UK) hosted by Orbit A parallel giveaway for signed copies and open to all countries hosted by Michael A free extended preview - which gives you the first 5 chapters of the book now.  It is available on many venues such as: Kindle | Nook |  Kobo That's it for now.  I hope that you are as excited as we are.

Riyria Author in Yankee Connecticut

 I’ll be attending ConnectiCon this coming Friday, Saturday, & Sunday (July 12th-14th.). 
For the first time convention hosts actually contacted and invited to come their event, and not just to come, but to be a guest of honor. Times have changed since I used to pay for the privilege of selling my book at a table that I hauled and decorated. I used to eat a big breakfast because I wouldn’t get a break from standing at the table until the dealer room closed around 6pm. Three days of this would result in maybe thirty books sold, sore feet, and a bad back. Not a lot of fun—actually none at all. It was work. I’m hoping this trip will be different. It ought to be. For one thing, I’m not bringing the table.
So if you live on the east coast and want an autograph, want to see how I look without a mustache, or would like to meet Brandon Sanderson, (who is also a guest of honor) we’ll both be there.
I’ll be attending these events and would love to see you:

Friday 1:30p - 2:30p:  Worldbuilding in Fantasy & Scifi 101 - Panel 7
Friday 3:00p - 4:00p - Michael J. Sullivan Autograph Session - Online Media Guest Hall
Friday 7:00p - 8:00p: Cross-genre Writing - Panel 8
Saturday 1:30p - 2:30p:  Michael J. Sullivan Q&A - Panel 9
Saturday 3:00p - 4:00p - Michael J. Sullivan Autograph Session - Online Media Guest Hall
Saturday 5:00p - 6:00p: Starting Out With a Bang - Panel 1
Sunday 12:00p - 1:00p: The 10 Most Important Things you Need to Know About Writing - Panel 8
Sunday 3:00p - 4:00p: The Changing Face of Publishing - Panel 8

The Summer of Signatures

The first book I ever had signed by an author was Ellen Kushner’s Swordspoint which I bought when it debuted in 1987, but didn’t get signed until June 2007. I was still trying to get The Crown Conspiracy, published and I was curious about the whole book signing tradition. What happened if I did get published and someone asked me to sign a book? How do you do that? What page do you sign on? Do you use pen, pencil, or marker? What color? Does it matter what color? Do you just sign your name?


Ellen Kushner wrote on a blank page before the first title page (there are usually two) and said: For Michael—best of luck with your own work—you’re always welcome in Riverside! Then there was this scribble that looked a bit like an EKG printout with three peaks and three valleys followed by the neatly written though enigmatic: 6.07  ALA. I figured out that first part was a nifty way of recording the date, the ALA was likely because she was appearing at the  American Library Association’s Annual Conference, however it could have had something to do with the American Literature Association, or the American Legal Administrators, or a Roman Republic-Era infantry formation, or Ms. Kushner might have been secretly informing me that she was a female demon from Serbian and Bulgarian mythology. I didn’t look at the signature until I got home so I never found out which she meant, but I like to think it was the last one.


I studied this singular example I had of an author’s book signing. The handwriting was sloppy, hurried—part cursive, part printing, and not at all what I expected. I imagined authors were like John Hancock with perfect flowing serifs and looping curls. After all they were writers. I forgot that few authors wrote with pens anymore, much less quills. This was good news because I gave up cursive decades ago. A signature, however, is different.


When I was in seventh grade I scrawled my name with cramped, tight letters as legibly as possible at the top of every assignment. One day I noticed the signature of a fellow student. He was left-handed and an absolute ass, but had a beautiful signature—stunning really, with all the embellishment of a nineteenth century poet. I wanted a signature like that—a little work of art I could rip off with a flourish. After all I might be famous one day and people might ask for my autograph, and did I really want to put my tongue to the left side of my mouth and laboriously force out such a constipated series of letters as I had been thus far? 


I soon became obsessed with signatures. I had a big art pad and I began asking absolutely everyone I knew to sign it. No one knew why, and I never told them. I was twelve, and when you’re twelve you don’t need reasons to do things that, as an adult, would result in a call to the police. Can I have your car keys? What’s your pin-number? Here sign this blank page. In a year the paper was filled with the names of relative (some that died soon after leaving me with a strange piece of them,) friends (some that in the same span of time stopped being friends,) teachers, even strangers. I studied the assortment. Some were perfect. My mother and oldest sister for example wrote their names using the same font as was on the long alphabet strip that ran along the top of the classroom blackboard—creepy in their exacting precision. Older men wrote in stiff firm strokes that you could feel on the back of the page. I liked the masculine look of those, but they were too simple. The ones I was drawn to were the flamboyant scrawls that didn’t understand the bounds of space or common decency. Signatures that screamed and danced. Capital letters exploded as if the writer was having an epileptic fit. Most of them were hard to read, but created an image that—while impossible to be read—suggested the name in a stylishly attractive design. Later I would come to see this as a logo of sorts. I could never create a beautiful and legible signature, so I settled for a design. I forced it at first, then over the years settled into something that felt natural, easy, and even a bit luxurious. I loved the sound of a good signature: scribble—pause—scribble, scribble—pause, sort of like a dance step. Soon it settled into muscle reflex and became permanent. I don’t even know how I do it any more, it just happens.


Why the post on signatures? No I’m not drunk, it’s because I’ve had a lot of time to ponder mine recently.


First Orbit wanted to give out some promotional items to herald the upcoming release of The Crown Tower, coming out the beginning of August, and asked me to sign several hundred bookmarks. I also promised my kickstarter investors signed bookmarks—nearly a thousand of those. Then came the Hollow World posters—another thousand signatures. Finally (not really finally as I still have a number of bookmarks I’m working on,) the Unfettered box arrived.


Shawn Speakman offered a limited edition hard cover version of his anthology that would be signed by all the authors—five hundred copies. I found the box filled with the unbound signature pages waiting on my stoop. Thankfully it wasn’t raining or the whole stack might have been ruined. That would have been bad since the box had already traveled to England and back.


Opening the box I found a stack of pages just about five inches tall. The identical pages were printed with names and signature lines. Only four of the other 21 authors had signed these included: Peter Brett, Naomi Novik, Robert Redick and Mark Lawrence. Given these and other names on the page I was a little nervous. Sure I’d worked on my signature for forty years, but I still felt like that kid in seventh grade looking over at the left-handed ass and his nineteenth century ballpoint calligraphy.  


I’d just bought a pen. Got it on Amazon. Cost $30. I justified the purchase by telling myself I deserved a decent pen because I was an author now, damnit! I felt guilty as soon as I pressed the one-click buy button. You have to understand my mother was a teenager during the Depression, and I grew up on my late father’s veteran’s benefits in a house too poor to afford real cheese. My mother told me cheese-food was just cheaper cheese. I didn’t taste the real thing until I was twenty-two. She lied. First Santa, then the thing about ex-lax being candy just for me, then the cheese. I keep expecting to discover that my little Catholic mother, at ninety-two, has been dealing crystal meth ever since prohibition ended.


Sitting at my desk with my brand new parker ballpoint—yeah a $30 ballpoint! (do you know you can get 60 Bics for $6.43?)—I prepared to start signing. I looked over the other signatures. Peter Brett’s looked like a stamp. Each one was a perfectly replicated, incomprehensible design—a P and a scribble with a line through it that could have been PAM. Mark Lawrence was far simpler and interesting in how it stayed low on the line like it was melting. Both were done in black ballpoint. Robert Redick’s was in blue felt tip. Big bold Rs and generally readable. The clearest was Naomi Novik’s. Every letter was clear. Hers stood out for more than just readability—she wrote in purple ink.


I took a breath and began signing my own craptastic autograph. I was at a book signing once and a reader had two copies of Crown Conspiracy they wanted me to sign. I ripped off my signature flourish that I’d spent ages perfecting for just such a moment. She looked at it, and handing me the second book asked, “Can you sign your name legibly this time?”


I had to face facts, after years of working on it, my signature is awful. I console myself by realizing that it might be terrible, but extremely hard to duplicate, and when it comes to signatures, that’s important too.


The problem was I scrawl the M in my name in an exaggerated sideways Zorro slash which I think looks cool, or at least it did to my twelve-year-old self, and the descenders drops way down below the line. This isn’t normally an issue, but there are 22 other authors sharing the page. My cool slash was going to skewer Eldon Thompson, who had yet to sign below me. Likewise my rocking 6.5 seismograph wave—that I like to call the letter M—threatened to extend into Shawn Speakman’s territory above. I struggled then to rein in my flamboyance as best I could.


A funny thing happens when you sit and sign your name over and over for hours—you’re mind starts thinking about weird stuff. It’s sort of like driving when you’re really tired. You might think, Wow, what if I drift out of my lane into oncoming traffic? Then you think. Why did I just think that? Am I drifting? Panic hits. You jerk the wheel slightly only to realize you’re fine. Same thing with signing your name. Wow, what if I was supposed to sign on the line under my name instead of above it? I panicked. I was some fifty pages in and I realized I never checked which side I should sign on. A quick glance showed I was fine and woke me up. What if I accidently sign on the wrong line? Stop it you’re being ridiculous now.


As I waded into the pile I was freaked when I noticed Naomi Novik changed her pen color from lavender to hot pink. She must have run out of ink in her pen. This got me thinking how many signatures were in a new ballpoint pen. I started hearing the Tootise Pop owl in my head, “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootise Pop? Ah one, ah two…” I didn’t have a refill, and I only had the one $30 pen! What would I do if I ran out of ink? Fifty pages later Naomi switched back to lavender. WTF? Is she just messing with me now? Fifty pages later she was back to pink and then lavender again and on and on. Maybe she was switching pens planning on auctioning them off at some later date as collectables, or she had a pack of really cheap pens that kept running dry (a pack of 60 Bics maybe). Thank God for my I-could-have-bought-my-wife-a-nice-lunch-but-instead-I-bought-a-stupidpen.


A page felt thicker than the others when I flipped it to the discard pile. I investigated and noticed two pages stuck together. Wow, what if I miss a page? How much would that suck? This really bothered me until I realized that in an anthology with Patrick Rothfuss, Brandon Sanderson, and Terry Brooks, no one who bought this was thinking, “Sweet! I’m finally going to get Michael J. Sullivan’s autograph!” 


After a couple hundred pages I noticed my signature was evolving still. I just wasn’t as consistent as Peter Brett—that guy’s a machine. I started imagining him with this giant steampunk contraption that allowed him to sign a hundred pages at once, each one identical. Mine were all over the place. I signed Michael Sullivaneven though the print below states Michael J. Sullivan. I never sign the J, because it looks awful and feels awkward. But after a few hundred pages I noticed a J appearing and for about fifty pages I was signing M. J. Sullivan—or the suggestion thereof.


This got me thinking of how Shakespeare spelled his name differently on all six of his known signatures. Shackper, Shakspear, Shakspea, Shackspere, Shakespear, and Shakspere. None of which are what we today consider the correct spelling. Furthermore, he wrote like he was illiterate or drunk. I’m guessing drunk.  Shakespeare SignaturesBy the time I got through the first four hundred pages, my back was starting to hurt, my wrist was chaffing on the edge of the stack, and my mind was wandering to the opening credits of The Simpsons where Bart is forced to do lines on a blackboard. For the younger crowd, doing lines on a blackboard is not a reference to cocaine and a powered off iPad. Schools were not that progressive.


I flipped another page and found a hair. I have a shedding dog and a wife and daughter with long hair so we have lots of hair in my house. This one was different. It was curly. Long, auburn, and curling in the exact shape of a stretched out slinky. I know Peter Brett and quickly eliminated him from the list. I’ve seen pictures of Lawrence, and didn’t think Redick was a likely candidate. I did a quick Google image search on Naomi Novik. Ahah! Elementary, my dear $30 pen, elementary. So now I have Naomi’s DNA. Maybe Ellen Kushner’s ALA demon friends can show me how to Wicca some of her talent.


Wow, what if I leave some of my own hair in between the pages? What if Eldon Thomspon finds it and is still pissed because I intruded on his signature space? You don’t want to screw around with fantasy authors. Guys like Tom Clancy who write thrillers know people in the government and military. Fantasy authors know people who can brew polyjuice potions.


Around four hundred and fifty pages in I realized that doing this sober was dumb. On the four hundred and seventy-eighth page I made a mistake in my signature, then thought, can I make a mistake in my signature?


As I neared the bottom of the stack I was getting punchy and I really began to worry about making a mistake. I was so close, what if I screwed up at the very end? What if in my hurry to be done with it I signed on the wrong line? It was at that moment I turned the page and saw something unusual. After nearly five hundred pages you notice any difference. I even saw where Naomi Novik dropped her pen leaving two dots she can’t even deny it—the dots are hot pink. But what I saw on that next page was way beyond the switching pen colors, dots, or hair.


On the upper right was neatly printed a little note—an apology to Jennifer Bosworth. It was from Peter Brett who accidentally started his signature on her line. Like seeing a flipped car in the medium with one tire still spinning, I slowed down after that and very carefully finished the last few pages. Unless I missed a page, I got through it safely if not as perfectly as others, and I feel like I should get an “I survived signing Unfettered” T-shirt.


To reward myself, afterward I took a stack of bookmarks to the pub and continued to sign my name, but this time with a pint. If it was good enough for Shakespeare…Sullian, Sulivan, Sillivan, Sullvain, Sullivane. No I’m just joking—there’s no way you can read the letters in my signature.


Good luck to whoever gets the box next, I at least put the pages in waterproof envelopes, but I can’t guarantee there’s no hair. The short white ones are from my dog.


For your enjoyment here is a: List and images of the 10 most valuable author signatures of all time.

Lightning Strikes Twice...

Hey all, It's Robin again as Michael is once more tied up (not physically - although I've considered chaining his ankle to the desk) and can't post. What's he up to?
He has the final copy edit changes in for Hollow World and we want to hit the early July release date for the people on KickstarterThe Crown Tower is just over a month away and Orbit's PR team is scheduling a blog tour so he has a number of blog posts to write.He's approaching the final scenes in Rhune and is always pretty focused when he's at this part of a novelOn top of all that he is signing up a storm...He got in (and shipped out) the author signature pages for the limited editions of Unfettered.  And as if that wasn't enough signing, he also has to put his mark on hundreds of bookmarks and posters for the Hollow World Kickstarter.
Normally, we would just let the site sit dormant - but something exciting has happened that is worth posting about. Theft of Swords has once again been selected as the Kindle Deal of the Day for the Science Fiction & Fantasy Category. For today only it will be on sale for $2.99 which is significantly lower than it's $9.99 list price.
For those that don't know, this is a highly coveted promotion that usually produces an incredible signal boost to an author's visibility and discoverability. Michael was fortunate enough to get this last December and here is just one of the results from that time around:
Screen shot taken December 12/24/2012


Yep, if only for a brief period of time Michael was the third most popular author in fantasy.  It also put Theft of Swords in the Amazon top 100 for a few days. (It got as high as #17) and a lot of readers learned about The Riyria Revelations because of the Kindle Daily Deal. For those that aren’t familiar with...

It’s a program where Amazon takes one book (or sometimes a group of books) and deeply discount it for 24 hours. They actually currently run 4 daily deals (general interest, science fiction & fantasy, romance, and children’s books). 
If you already have a print or audio version, and want to pick-up the ebook this would be the perfect time to do so.  But it also provides a great opportunity for sharing Riyria with your friends and loved ones. At less than $3, it costs less than a Starbucks Cappuccino and Amazon makes it easy for you to gift an ebook. Here’s how it works.
1.    All you need is the email address of someone you want to send the book to.
2.    On the right side of the screen you’ll see a button to give as a gift

 3.    Then just fill out the form.  You can either have the email sent to you in which case you can print it and place it in a card or give to someone in person, or you can forward the email to someone far away. There is also an option to send the email on your behalf and you can add a personalized message. (You can even buy it, and have it auto-delivered on the date you specify.

4.    The person who receives the gift can download the book anytime they want…they don’t have to receive it on the day of the Daily Deal.  If they already have Theft of Swords, or just don’t think it’s the right book for them…they can accept a gift card instead and use the money to buy something they would rather read.  
NOTE: Even people without kindle ereaders can read a kindle ebook.  Amazon has a kindle application and their software runs on ipad, iphones, blackberries, computers, tablets, and just about anything with a screen. So even if your friend or loved one doesn’t have a kindle…they’ll still be able to read the book.
So, if you’ve enjoyed Riyria, or maybe you’ve heard of it but haven’t purchased yet, today is a great time to do so.  

A New Riyria Short Story - Exclusively in the Unfettered Anthology

Unless you are living under a rock, you've probably heard about the Unfettered Anthology. Earlier this week the ebook version went live on: Kindle | Nook | Kobo.  There are two editions of the hardcovers (the signed limited edition leather copies sold out almost immediately) but there was a press run of 5,000 standard hardcovers that were printed and orders for them are going out now.  If you want to buy a copy you can find it here for $35. We (the authors, artist, and publisher) of Unfettered did a AMA (Ask Me Anything) on reddit a few nights ago, if you would like to learn more about how this project came into being you can find it here. 

So what is Unfettered?  I'll let the book's description fill in the details:


You define life or it defines you. In Shawn Speakman’s case, it was both.
Lacking health insurance and diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2011, Shawn quickly accrued a massive medical debt that he did not have the ability to pay. That’s when New York Times best-selling author Terry Brooks offered to donate a short story that Shawn could sell to help alleviate those bills—and suggested he ask the same of his other writer friends.

Unfettered is the result: an anthology built in order to relieve that debt, featuring short stories by some of the best fantasy writers in the genre.

Twenty-three tales comprise this incredible collection, and as the title suggests, the writers were free to contribute whatever they wished. Here is the table of contents:

Foreword by Patrick RothfussIntroduction: On Becoming UnfetteredImaginary Friends by Terry BrooksHow Old Holly Came To Be by Patrick RothfussThe Old Scale Game by Tad WilliamsGame of Chance by Carrie VaughnThe Martyr of the Roses by Jacqueline CareyMudboy by Peter V. BrettThe Sound of Broken Absolutes by Peter OrullianThe Coach with Big Teeth by R.A. SalvatoreKeeper of Memory by Todd LockwoodHeaven in a Wild Flower by Blake CharltonDogs by Daniel AbrahamThe Chapel Perilous by Kevin HearneSelect Mode by Mark LawrenceAll the Girls Love Michael Stein by David Anthony DurhamStrange Rain by Jennifer BosworthNocturne by Robert V.S. RedickUnbowed by Eldon ThompsonIn Favour with Their Stars by Naomi NovikRiver of Souls by Robert Jordan & Brandon SandersonThe Jester by Michael J. SullivanThe Duel by Lev GrossmanWalker and the Shade of Allanon by Terry BrooksThe Unfettered Knight by Shawn Speakman
With the help of stalwart friends and these wonderful short stories, Shawn has taken the gravest of life’s hardships and created something magical. Unfettered is not only a fantastic anthology in its own right, but it’s a testament to the generosity found in the science fiction and fantasy community—proof that humanity can give beyond itself when the need arises.

After all, isn’t that the driving narrative in fantasy literature?


As for the piece I contributed it is indeed a Royce and Hadrian short story and I'm very proud of  how it came out. Here is the introduction to it:
The characters of Royce and Hadrian came to me during my self-imposed ten-year hiatus from writing. After crafting twelve novels and spending a decade getting nowhere, I had determined that publication was hopeless, and I had vowed never to write creatively again. But they kept invading my mind, and as hard as I tried to silence them, I finally gave in, on one condition: that I would write a book that I wanted to read and forgo any thoughts of publication. What a fun time I had bringing these two rogues to life. My wife decided to circumvent my plans and got the books published, and hence Riyria was born.

The six books of The Riyria Revelations were released by Orbit in three two-book omnibus volumes, and while I thought that would be the end of Royce and Hadrian, readers clamored for more. Because I didn’t want to “tack on” to a carefully choreographed ending, The Riyria Chronicles were born to explore adventures that occurred during the twelve years the pair were together before Revelations began.
The short story I’ve provided is a Chronicles tale. It takes place after the events of The Rose and the Thorn and before those of Theft of Swords. Even so, it’s a stand-alone story and no prior experience with any of my books is required to enjoy it to its fullest.

Crafting a work for Unfettered was quite a daunting experience. I wanted to help Shawn and his cause, but how could I not be intimidated by the esteem of the authors I’d be sharing the pages with? Like Riyria, I hope that I rose to the challenge, and that you’ll be entertained by “The Jester,” a story of adventure, bonds of friendship, and a recognition that the choices we make dictates the future we find.


If you're a fan of Riyria, or any of the amazing authors I encourage you to go get a copy.  You'll get a great read and Shawn will get his medical debt wiped out. If you want to do something nice for the authors who contributed...consider leaving a review on goodreads or Amazon, and then maybe someone else will learn about an author they aren't familiar with and give their books a try.

And so it begins...

The final countdown to the  the release of the new series The Riyria Chronicles is upon us!!  <>

Hey all, Robin here (for those that don't know, I'm Michael's "other half"),  I'm hijacking Michael's blog as he is pretty focused on writing at the moment and I don't want you to miss out on any of the great things Orbit has going on for the new series's release.

We are just 54 days -- see handy countdown clock in the sidebar -- until the release of The Crown Tower and I've been working with Orbit's marketing director on the various goodies he has in store for you all.  I don't want to let the cat out of the bag prematurely, but he's got some nice goodies up his sleeve and I'll be updating you as they go "live."

To that end...the first of these launched a few days ago, and that is that Orbit is running a Goodreads Giveaway for The Crown Tower:


As you can see it's only been open a few days and already we have quite a few people signed up for it.  Free copies are always a good thing, but there's an added bonus in this giveaway because Orbit is going to ship copies to the winner as soon as copies arrive to them.  Based on current estimates this means winners will  get the book almost an entire month sooner than it's official release date.  How cool is that?

Now, Orbit has more than just Michael to concern themselves with, and coordinating the shipping of giveaway copies is no small feat so they set these giveaways to the US to simplify logistics.  I fully support this practice, it means they can do more giveaways for Michael (and other authors), but Michael wanted to make sure the overseas people have a chance to win as well. So here's what we've done...

Michael setup a " parallel giveaway " and it is open to everyone, regardless of  location.  What we plan on doing is matching the ratio of the Orbit giveaway (up to 10 copies) so if you have a 1 in 10 chance of winning Orbit's versions you'll have a 1 in 10 chance of winning our giveaway. But...those that are overseas will actually get two "entries" while those from he US will have only one ticket in the drawing.  We're doing this because a US person can enter in both giveaways but an international person only can sign up for one.

Orbit's copies will be processed directly from New York, so unfortunately they won't be signed.  But since Michael and I will be sending out the winners for the parallel giveaway you can sign up for both.

As I said, this is just one of the nice perks that Orbit has planned, and we'll let you know about the others as they launch.  I can't say enough good things about how Orbit supports their authors in launching their books, and I'm not just referring to Michael here. I've watched the rollouts of Brian McClellan and Mur Lafferty and they were phenomenal as well.

So, if you want to get your hand on The Crown Tower as soon as humanly possible sign up here:

Goodreads Giveaway - US OnlyMichael's Giveaway - All CountriesAnd stay tuned for other goodies, coming soon.

Living the Dream

I suspect most aspiring novelists have an idealized impression of what success as an author is like. I think I'm to the point now where I feel I can consider myself moderately successful, and I can tell you it's not all cocktail parties and coffee shops. On the other hand, there are a lot of authors who'd have you  believe that the modern life of a novelist is hardly discernible from a  destitute coal miner in the Twenties.

The general consensus is that trying to be an author is one of the dumbest things a person can do. The odds of success are a hair away from impossible, and success only means an isolated life of drudgery working two jobs or chained to a keyboard day and night just to keep the heat on. In a recent speech at the Digital Minds Conference even Neil Gaiman questioned if the day of the gainfully employed novelist has already passed.

Given all this, I suppose I'm an outlier. Not because I managed to make a living writing novels, but because I see it as just about the best job anyone like me could have.

I recently spoke to a fellow writer who mentioned how hard writing is—that having written is great, but that the actual writing was a pain. All they could think of was how they looked forward to being done so they could go out and do fun things. I found this strange as I always thought writing was the fun part. But before you jump to the conclusion that the only pleasure that can be obtained by being an author is the joy of writing itself, I think I will tell you how I spent yesterday.

Carrying a mildly battered leather courier bag filled with a notebook and pens (always more then one), my cap, an umbrella, and a garment bag, my wife and I hopped the train to New York. We arrived at Union Station around ten in the morning and dropped off our bags at the swank hotel Belvedere. Then walked the few blocks to meet my Orbit editor and marketing director who treated me to a long lunch at a classy wine and dine restaurant. Wine and Dine are actually part of its name.

Entrance to Recorded BooksWe chatted about business, other authors, and how well my books were selling. I was pleased to learn Riyria is doing nicely even a year and a half past publication. We concluded lunch with a chocolate molten cake, and fond farewells. By then it was two in the afternoon. I had received an email from Claudia at Recorded Books asking if I'd be willing to come down after my lunch to record the Author's Note for my upcoming novel, The Crown Tower. 

We had a few hours, so of course I said yes. Robin and I navigated the New York Subway system and traveled downtown to the famous Strands Bookstore, above which Recorded books has its studios. Up we went and received the grand tour. I was introduced to the gang who were delighted to meet me as if I was somebody important. They even took pictures.

Recording Author's Note inside Studio no. 4
I sat in booth 4 with Claudia as my engineer, who patiently walked me through the process of professional reading. Let's just say I won't be giving up my writing in favor of a career in dramatic voice acting. To be honest—I'm awful. Still, Claudia smiled brightly offering encouragement and somehow I trudged through. 
Those four pages taught me just how talented and skilled voice actors are. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful experience, and one more cross-out on my life-list. After that we had to say our quick farewells because we needed to get to our hotel and prepare for the night's festivities.

The room at the hotel was large by New York standards and on a quiet side street. The place also had a bathroom you could land a zeppelin in, with a walk-in shower that could easily accommodated a small musical quartet.

After a quick shower, I unzipped the garment bag and took out my tuxedo. I splurged choosing to purchase one rather than rent, as math insisted that if I wear it three times the tuxedo will pay for itself. So buying it was an act of faith, a hope that believing in something will help make it happen. That sort of thing has been working pretty well so far.  
Outside the Audie Award Gala at the Historical Society Museum & Libriary
After struggling with the real bow tie, I managed to knot it properly, and with my wife, Robin, in a gorgeous black evening gown, we hailed a cab. A few minutes later we were on Central Park West in front of the Historical Society Museum & Library where the Audie Awards Gala was being held. 

The evening began with white wine, incredible hors d'oeuvres, and all manner of finely dressed folk milling about the priceless art work. I met Tim Gerard Reynolds as he was attempting to fill a small plate with meatballs. This was the first time I had met the man who so successfully breathed life into my words that he was nominated for Best In Fantasy for 2013. 
Tim Gerard Reynolds (narrator of the Riyria Revelations) and myself
Tim is a marvel. A wonderful man who is far too humble for his immense talent, a talent I was all the more impressed with after literally sitting in his seat in the Recorded Books studio. For the next hour we talked while both of our plates of food remained untouched and forgotten. We spoke of Myron, and Archibald as if they were real people; of the new book, The Crown Tower, due out August 6th, that he just finished the day before; and the next one that he has yet to start. All too soon we were called away to the award assembly.

We sat in the multilevel auditorium as Daniel Handler, the author of the Lemony Snicket books, emceed the evening with the sort of snarky wit you would expect from the inventor of Count Olaf. Neither Tim nor I were at all nervous until our category came up. A huge slide appeared and there they were: the best in fantasy nominees. My little book tucked down in the right corner next to a picture of Tim. 

Then they said it.
Not the name of the winner. That was still twenty seconds away. 
They were still listing the nominees. In the auditorium with us were actress Anne Hathaway, nominated for narrating The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,and Ellen Kushner, author of Swordspoint. Other nominees that evening were the likes of Michelle Obama, Dustin Hoffman, Samuel L. Jackson, Margaret Atwood, and even Bram Stoker. And in that multitude of amazing talent and skill,  I heard the words: “ ...and Theft of Swords, by Michael J Sullivan.”

After years of watching the Academy Awards I couldn't help thinking, so that's what they feels like. I was also disappointed that they didn't say Tim's name. Maybe they didn't have the time to add, "Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds," but I wished they had. The award really was for him. I just wrote the book, he's the one who brought the story to life. He was the reason I was at the gala at all. At least they had his picture and name on the big screen.

We didn't win.  
I was disappointed but not because we lost, but because Tim never got to hear his name being read after the opening of the envelop (and yes they actually did open envelopes.)
You see the thing is, I get fan mail, these days quite a bit. Tim doesn't. He doesn't, but he should.
I've recently listened to his performance of Heir of Novron, and boy does he make my words sound good. I find myself thinking Wow! This is great. There's no way I could have written that. It's all because of Tim. But since it's my name on the book, I get the credit, and poor Tim, who made Modina sound so cute, and Myron so wise, is ignored. He appeared dumbfounded to hear that much of “my” fan mail mentions that the reader loved “listening” to my books. Right now Tim's audio version are the most popular forms of my books selling on Amazon. So not only did I  want him to win; he deserved it...at least he deserved something.

When the ceremony concluded, I leaned over and whispered. “I'll just have to write you a better book next time.”

Truffles, chocolate dipped strawberries and champagne followed, and a whole host of strangers spoke to me as if I was a celebrity. I met a writer from the Daily Show and author Kevin Bleyer, and singer song writer and author Janis Ian.

Tim left early as he had a recording to do in the morning. My wife and I lingered until near midnight then we took another cab back to the hotel where fans were already tweeting me condolences. I'm not sure why. The award was superfluous to the success of that day. After all I got to take a train to New York, be treated to dinner by my publisher, record part of my own audio book, and pretend to be James Bond as I attended a Central Park West awards gala where my name was read as a finalist!

All I can say is, as an author, writing is the fun part of my day, but occasionally there are also days like yesterday.

I Call It Magic

(This was originally written as a guest blog and published through Bookworm Blues on Dec 7th of 2012 as part of a promotion for the promotion for the Triumph Over Tragedy anthology created to benefit the victims of Hurricane Sandy. I'm reposting it here in case anyone missed it, and because I like to keep a copy of all my blogs in one place.)





When I graduated high school I had two career choices: artist or novelist. Yes, my mother was terrified.


Since I couldn’t spell and was awful at grammar, I took the art scholarship. In art school there were two types. Those who copied from other artists, photos or the real world—I called them illusionists, and those who could sit down and create beauty out of nothing at all. I deemed this to be true magic. I was never that good at true magic.


When I retired from art at the old age of 23, and began writing, I discovered the same sort of thing existed in literature.


I wrote stories that I made up. I constructed clever plots, colorful characters, twists and turns, tension and drama, but never did it seem…real. It lacked emotion. When I read what I wrote I was pleased. It was nice, but it wasn’t powerful. I didn’t know why.


Over the years I’ve read many novels that I found interesting, clever, even entertaining, but only a handful have ever hit me emotionally. Those are the books that stick, the ones I carried with me, and still do. These are the novels that made me cringe, laugh, and cry.


This was magic—real magic.


Somehow the authors managed to reach out from another time, another place and inject me with the exact emotion they intended.  This wasn’t just communication of ideas—that’s easy—this was jacking right into my non-verbal gut and uploading sorrow, concern, terror, and laughter. I wanted to be able to do that, but I didn’t know how.


I stumbled on the means one day when I we trying to write a very simple scene. Instead of inventing something cerebral, I looked in myself and pulled out an experience. I remembered something—something painful. I was terrified to write it, to pour myself into the page. Such a thing was embarrassing. What if someone I know reads this? It felt as if I was stripping naked in public. I told myself, I was only going to write it and never show anyone. I just wanted to see how it would come out. The result was astounding. I cried in the writing. I cried in the reading.


What I never expected is that readers cried too.


I realized then, that in order to get emotion out of readers, the author had to invest part of themselves. There needs to be a sacrifice, a little bit of a person’s soul invested into the work and that dash of honesty results in a powerful recognition. Readers immediately relate. They know this isn’t faked, this isn’t illusion…this is true magic.  


The more painful and embarrassing the memory, the more personal the thought, the more powerful the writing.


At first I expected the worst. I expected ridicule. Like kids in grades school, people would point at me and laugh. “Is this how you really feel? You’re such a looser!”


Oddly, it never happened. I was only the author. The events happened to a fictitious person, a character in a story, not me. I was the wizard behind the curtain, the hand inside the puppet that no one saw. It was my voice, my feelings set out exposed to the harsh glare of the bright lights, but I, as the author, was safe behind the mask. Instead of foolish, I was impressive.


People are fond of saying that pain fuels art. I many ways it does. Fiction is full of tension and conflict. The best way to prepare to write such, is to live it. Then reaching deep, you scrape out the honest truth, warts and all and put them on display. It isn’t easy. The process is often painful, humiliating, and depressing, but the end result is always stunning.


I think everyone—while not the same—are similar enough that we connect on the same levels, share the same feelings. When we read, or see something that registers so personally, so perfectly with something we would never share with anyone, then that becomes profound. In that understanding we see a tiny miracle. Someone else knows my pain. Someone else understands how I feel. I’m not alone, I’m like that character. This is what makes literature come to life, this is what makes Pinocchio a real boy.  It is the touch of the Blue Fairy.


I call it magic.

Champagne Wishes and Metro Dreams

It has long been a dream of mine to stumble across someone reading my book in public. 
I imagine I am on the Metro (the DC area subway) across from a person holding open a copy of Theft of Swords. I would be staring in disbelief, trying to gauge from their facial expression if they like, or hate, it. I will debate saying anything, concerned they will take offense, or worse, berate me for having written such an awful book and demand their money back. Finally I will get up, saunter over, and opting for subtle humor say, “That’s my book.”
Whereupon they will look up startled, and a bit annoyed, replying. “No it’s not. I just bought this.”
I will smile my most Great Gatsby smile, tilt my head ever so slightly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other in a humble manner and say, “You don’t understand. It’s my book. I wrote it.”
At this point I imagine the reader will appear confused, then a smile will grow. Their eyes will widen. “You’re Michael J. Sullivan?” 

This would be followed by a look of awe and the admission that they love it—they love it and have already mentioned such to their parent or employer who happens to be a major Hollywood movie producer. I will be invited to their swank penthouse in New York—all producers with an excellent track record of successfully adapting novels keep one for just such occasions. That evening we all dress in tuxedos and evening gowns and have champagne on the terrace where we discuss which actors would best play the lead roles, and would I be willing to fly out to LA to sit in on some casting sessions, as my input is highly desired.
That’s the fantasy anyway. The reality I suppose would be that the reader would glare, move away and exit the train at the next station whether it was their stop or not. If I was really unlucky they might find a transit officer.
Such fantasies as this are not uncommon among authors. Numbers on Amazon, and emails from fans all feel so ethereal, so illusionary. Seeing a person at random holding a copy glued to their fingers would add that elusive measure of reality. Somehow, such a sighting would be undeniable proof, the smoking gun, that it hasn’t all been a dream.
As ebooks become more popular, the odds of such a sighting dwindle. In today’s electronic-warming, the natural habitat of the paper-book-reader has shrunk to a fraction of its former size, and it would just be creepy to peer over an e-reader’s shoulders to try and figure out from the text what they're reading. So I didn’t think such an aspiration could ever become reality.
I have spoken of this fantasy
It was from a friend and had the caption. “Saw on Metro today.”
I smirked and replied. “Is this fake?”
Answer: “No. I don’t know her.”
I wasn’t convinced and soon forgot about the incident.
A little over two months later I received this email:
Hi Michael,
In October or November I was taking the orange line from my job in D.C. to my apartment in NoVa. The previous day I had visited the MLK library in Chinatown and happened to come across what looked to be the first book in an interesting fantasy series--your Theft of Swords. I didn't know anything about it beforehand, but it caught my attention and I checked it out.
So there I was, reading on the metro when this complete stranger taps me on the shoulder and asks me if she can take a picture of me reading the book. You're from the area, so you're probably familiar with metro protocol. Occasionally you may share exasperated expressions with other commuters when you end up single tracking during rush hour, but otherwise everyone is pretty much off in their own world.
It was a bit jarring, but she rushed to explain that she was a friend of the author and that he had always wanted to see someone reading his book in public. I thought that was a very serendipitous encounter, so I let her take the picture. She thanked me and got off a few stops later.
Ever since then, I've been curious to know if you got that picture. I'm not sure who the woman was--I never got her name--but if I had toiled over six novels and spend countless hours writing and rewriting, I would be very happy to come across someone reading my finished work in public.
I tore through your second and third volumes and finished the series pretty quickly after that metro ride. I enjoyed them thoroughly, and I look forward to The Crown Tower.
Discovering the image and the sighting was genuine, I was shocked and happy, but also a little disappointed. As Archibald “Moonlight” Graham in Field of Dreams said: It was like coming this close to your dreams... and then watch them brush past you like strangers in a crowd.
At least I now know it’s possible. And in a way I sort of got my wish, even if it was vicariously lived. Most dreams are never fully realized, or never live up to the imagination, so maybe I’ll have to accept this sans champagne, version as the closest I will come.
But secretly, I still look.

Banter

 
 
Dialog is never written the way people speak. Mark Twain shook things up by inserting slang and bad grammar to add more of an accurate and realistic flavor, but even so, it wasn’t true to life. If you don’t believe me try a simple exercise. Go to a coffee shop and transcribe exactly what is said at the conversation at the next table. It will be something like: 

“…I don’t know.”
“Well, you could say…ah…well. If you were to really think about it—”
“No seriously, I’m not going to—”
“Hold on, hold on! Just listen. Just yesterday I was—okay, wait—no—I mean—okay forget that...”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“No it’s not! He’s just—you know.”
“What?”
“So what I was going to say is this…if you were to…ah…you know—what’s that thing?”
“What thing?”
“You know—that thing. That we always—never mind. It’s just that—well before I get into this, okay—hold on—there was—no before that—I was at Target and…oh wait—no. That was Thursday right? So…let me think…ah…okay…god I don’t know why I can’t remember that thing. It’s driving me crazy.”
“What thing?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I just—it’s stuck in my mind now, you know?”
“I hate that. Do it all the time.”
“I know! It will drive me crazy now. I’ll be thinking about it all day.”
“You know what will happen? You’ll think of it two hours from now and—”
“Right.”
“You know?”
“It’s so aggravating!”
“Wait—what were we talking about now?”
 Imagine trying to write a novel using this sort of dialog. As you can see, in 149 words the point of the conversation never establishes itself, because in real life so much of conversation is false starts, broken sentences, short hand, repetitions, and interruptions. Some of it can be clarified with inner dialog, but then you’re putting more words on a page and less substance. Readers aren’t any more inclined to enjoy reading a hundred erroneous words than listeners are interested in hearing them.

Have you ever wanted to shake someone and say, “Just get to the point?” or “please, organize your thoughts and get back to me?” In essence that’s what writers often do, because authors are in just as much a hurry to get on with the story as the reader is.
Watch a talk show sometime. Notice how fluid the host tends to be. They don’t repeat words, pause for long periods to think, have too many false starts, or use phrases like: you know, ah, okay, um, well. The guest does. The guest, who most often is not a polished public speaker, stumbles constantly. So do people in the wild. People in their natural habitat aren’t prepped, aren’t conscious of trying to sound intelligent or even rational. In the rush to stay current with the stream of thought flowing in the mind, crap just pours out in high gear.
Writers, like professional speakers make an effort to clean up the language. Ninety percent of the “ahhs, you knows, ums, and just plain …s” are removed.  Also people tend to get to, and stay on topic—unlike in real life.
This is the first way in which dialog fails to mirror reality, and I for one would not advocate altering the trend. Realism is nice up to the point but becomes a liability where it begins to harm the work. The question is, where do you draw the line?
In an effort to tell a story, writers are prone to streamline too much. Not that I think they should introduce more “you knows” in dialog necessarily, but it’s just as bad to write just-the-facts Dragnet dialog (or for the younger generation Law & Order?):
“He asked me out on a date at ten forty-five last night.”
“Where were you?”
“We were at Arby’s.”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes.” 
Okay, so don’t write dialog so accurate that it’s boring, and don’t stick to the script so tight that you lose all flavor or realism. That’s all fine and good, but I actually assume everyone knows all this already. The actual point of this post is that I think there is still something else missing—an element that makes dialog sound and feel more real and entertaining.
If you listen to people talk, or just pay attention to conversations you have, you might discover they are very different than what you read in books or hear on Law & Order. You might not even be able to figure out what’s missing. It never occurred to me either until I started thinking about comments made about my own writing.  
Readers almost always comment on my character’s banter. I am praised for the clever back-and-forth witticisms—the jokes the characters throw at each other even in dire circumstances. Some have even asked how I do it. The truth is—I don’t do anything. I’m not writing banter. I’m just writing how people actually speak. I’m starting to wonder if the people I talk to are different from the norm. I hope not. I’d hate to think everyone else is locked into the dire and ultra-serious Law & Order dialog (where laughter has been outlawed), but that might explain all the commercials for anti-depressant drugs. 
Some people certainly are more witty than others, but even the slow and humorless make attempts at being funny, using bad puns, drawing silly analogies from books, throwing out an appropriate movie quote, (which is always followed with, “where’s that from?”) or taking advantage of a perfect set up for a too-funny-to-pass-up insult. This is the language of dialog. This is often what makes talking to people a desirable thing.  
It doesn’t matter if the conversation is casual or serious. Unfortunately I’ve spent a good deal of my youth in funeral parlors group-grieving for hours. Some of the funniest, most spontaneous jokes erupt in such an environment. This is one of the reasons why I think The Big Chill has some of the most believable dialog of any movie. Likewise, in moments of fear and dread, I and my friends, and sometimes complete strangers will make jokes. Sometimes—oftentimes, this is the best means of handling the stress.  
But all too often I don’t see that depicted in movies or books. The writer is so intent on showing tension, and moving the plot that humor is ignored. This is especially true in regards to villains. Villains are evil, and the best way to display their wickedness is to eliminate the ability to be funny. Funny people are nice. And yet, one of my all-time favorite villains is the Mayor Richard Wilkins III from the third season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. More than any other villain, he felt real, and rounded, because he was pleasant and funny.  Something about a happy, funny antagonist makes them far more threatening than a more two-dimensional “evil bad guy.” There is the impression that the character possess a greater intelligence and self-confidence, and that’s scary.   
Still I get the sense that works that contain humor are considered “comedies” and classified as less serious, more frivolous. I find this strange since what makes a written story powerful is its reflections of real life, and so much of our lives are filled with humor. I’ve actually found “serious works” silly in their false depictions of reality for this very reason. Fantasy is often hampered by its need to be seen as serious, and one of the ways writers try to achieve this is by populating their stories with overly stern personalities living in harsh worlds. Still, I would imagine even the most poor, starving people make jokes about their situation. Laughing is sometimes the only thing a person can do that doesn’t make them cry.
So I really don’t write banter. I just write the way people speak. Then again, maybe I just know a lot of witty people.