Scott Pratt's Blog

Three Days and Counting - Vindicate's Release

Dear Friend and Reader,

It’s almost here. Finally. The beginning of a new chapter. The passing of the torch, so to speak, from Joe to Jack. Vindicate, the 11th Dillard book and the 1st Jack Dillard novel, comes out in three days (Tuesday, June 3rd).

It’s strange how book launches have changed with Dad gone. When he was here, he’d be on pins and needles in the days leading up to a book’s release. Nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I, on the other hand, would be supremely confident. I’d tell him over and over, “Don’t worry, man. People are going to love this book.” Thankfully, I was mostly right.

I get his trepidation, now.

While I’m confident this is a worthy, riveting addition to the Dillard saga, there’s still that little shred of doubt, that malevolent whisper in the back of my mind. You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re dishonoring your Dad’s legacy. Fraud.

Maybe we all have those thoughts. I’d be shocked if I’m not having them twenty years from now. Still, when I take a step back and objectively look at the work we’ve created with Vindicate, I can’t help but think that 1) this is a damn good book, and 2) Dad would be proud of this.

Thank you for, once again, staying the course with me. Getting this thing out there has taken longer than I had hoped (I know…shocking). I’m sorry for that. But I’m proud of the work and believe you’ll enjoy it.

I’ll leave you by asking a small favor. If you enjoy the book, please rate and/or review it. Tell your friends about it. Tell your kids about it. Tell that maddening relative about it. Tell the lady at the drive-thru about it. Tell your cats and dogs about it 🙂

Seriously, though, I would appreciate your help spreading the word. This book is the start of a new journey, and I’ll need your assistance to get the train out of the station.

Cheers to new beginnings, and to you, dear reader, for coming along for the ride. This book is a wild one.

Much love to you and yours,
Dylan

Vindicate

A New Book and Updates

Hi Folks,

It’s been a while since I reached out. Between working on all the projects we have going and welcoming our new baby girl (born on April 4th), I’ve been stretched razor thin. That said, I have not been idle. I come to you with glad tidings: we’ll have THREE new books ready for you in the next 12 months, and I’m excited about all of them.

JACK DILLARD BOOK 1- The first draft is finished. We’re cleaning some things up, but I couldn’t be more thrilled with the novel we’ve been able to produce. Assuming all goes well, we should be able to publish it by the end of the year. Worst case, early next year.

DAD'S BIOGRAPHY - I’ve lost count of the number of drafts we’ve been through, but we’re making headway on the ‘final’ draft. I think it will be ready for publication by the end of the year, too. Depending on how scheduling and dates fall, I’ll either publish this one a few months before Jack Dillard Book 1 or a few months after.

WRECKAGE - I’m really excited about this, and it kind of came out of left field. I don’t think I’ve shared Andrew Wolfendon’s name with you, other than to thank him in the acknowledgments, but he’s the ghostwriter I brought in to help us with "Last Resort."

Andy mentioned to me that he’d written a psychological thriller novel a few years back that he had gotten the rights back to. The book was well-reviewed, but it hadn’t gotten the support it deserved (no one knew more about this than Dad did). He asked if I’d be willing to give it a read and consider publishing it.

After tearing through the novel at a breakneck pace, I concluded two things: 1) this was a great book, and 2) there were a few things we could do to make it even better. Andy agreed with my feedback for improving the story, and we got to work on it.

That brings me to where we are now. When considering how to give this novel its best launch, I proposed taking a page out of Dad’s book (pun intended) with what he did with Mark Stout and Kelly Hodge. I asked Andy if he’d be interested in releasing "Wreckage" as a co-authored novel under the J.D. Pratt brand in the hope that doing so would give it the visibility it deserves. He agreed, and here we are.

It's an engaging novel. Different from Dad’s fare—it’s more of a psychological thriller that’s a bit lighter in tone. Still, the characters pop, the island-in-a-storm setting is gripping, and the story is riveting. Full of crackling dialogue, intrigue, and intelligent twists. We’ll be releasing it SEPTEMBER 1ST to coincide with its late-summer setting.

I’m thankful fate brought the two of us together—he’s an exceptional writer and an even more exceptional human being.

Now a bit of bad news—for those of you wondering, Presley Carter Book 2 is still on hold. I’ll let you know if/when that changes.

On to family updates. Jett is now two and a half. He’s a spirited, smart, kind young dude who already has a deep love for golf and the musical, "Hamilton." That must be Mom and Dad’s doing from on high (Dad was an avid golfer ever since his mom used the local 9-hole course in Michigan as a daycare when he was young, and you know Mom’s love for the stage). I’m excited he’s already invested in things so near and dear to my heart, but I’d be lying if I said my parents’ absence doesn’t weigh on me as he grows. Dad would be over the moon with this golf development—I’d have to fight tooth, claw, and nail to keep him from taking Jett to the driving range every day. Mom would be gleefully facilitating an education in show tunes.

My wife, Kadey, has recovered beautifully from her pregnancy. You’d never know she just gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. We named her Scottie Mae. She’s a smiley bundle of joy who shares her Daddy’s fondness for eating. Just shy of four months old, and she already weighs 20 lbs.

I’ll be in touch in the weeks leading up to the release of Wreckage. It’s a good book, and I hope you’ll give it a shot. You’ll be glad you did.

Much love to you and yours,

Dylan

Wreckage: An Addictive Psychological Thriller Packed with Twists

A Letter from Dylan

Dear Friend and Reader,

I want to start by saying thank you. I’m so appreciative to you for sticking with me. Blood is Black has gotten off to a good start, and the new Dillard novel, Last Resort, is poised to have a phenomenal release. It comes out one week from today.

I feel like I owe it to you to explain how this Dillard book came together and all of the variables involved. The year was 2020. After our struggles with finishing Blood is Black and admitting it would be best for someone else to come in and help us complete the manuscript, Dad’s younger brother, Dan, and I circled back to Dillard. Considering where Dad had left the characters at the end of Due Process, we knew we had to write another one. And based on conversations I’d had with Dad about Joe’s future before he died, I knew he planned this 10th book as a sort of conclusion to the Joe Dillard saga. We had lost Mom, and Dad didn’t think he’d be able to continue writing the series without her. Besides the actual despair of her passing, Dad felt like he lost the soul of the Dillard books when he lost his real-life Caroline.

And so, even though we knew it would be enormously painful and difficult, Dan and I set out on a journey to do this Dillard book together using the same plan we initially had for completing the Presley Carter book – I plot the chapters, he writes them. We thought it would be easier this time around because 1) we were starting with a blank canvas and 2) we were both so intimately familiar with the Dillard characters – they’re family. Literally and figuratively. We met up for a weekend at a remote cabin with the sole intent of fleshing out a full outline and left with the framework for a compelling story.

Unfortunately, we ended up doing the same dance to the same song that we had done with Blood is Black. Dan works full-time as a pastor, and aside from continuing to promote and drive Dad’s book sales, I was still a part-owner in a local baseball business. I had also gotten married, and was working with writers on finishing Blood is Black and Dad’s biography. Close to a year passed, and we had about three chapters of the new Dillard book written. At that rate, it was going to take us a decade to finish the novel. Considering it had already been two years since Dad left us, we both accepted reality and realized we needed help.

This would be a good place to address a message I’ve gotten from several people over the past few years: “You’re a decent writer, Dylan - why don’t you just pen it yourself?” Aside from the previously-mentioned time constraints from my other commitments, and while I had a fair grasp on plot, character, and story structure, and was intimately familiar with the Dillard characters, writing a novel was a different ballgame. I’ve always believed there’s a huge distinction between being a good writer and being a good storyteller. Crafting sharp dialogue, pacing, building suspense, knowing when to let the reader up for air and when to put your foot on the gas – developing these skills takes time. Like any other craft, mastering storytelling requires seasoning and practice, and I wasn’t willing to use this Dillard book as a training ground to develop my storytelling chops. Dad’s readers, his characters, and his legacy deserved the practiced hands of a professional rather than the fumbling keystrokes of a novice. Not to mention, writing about criminal procedure was second nature to Dad, but for me, capturing the subtleties of that world, despite having grown up around it, would have been a significant challenge. Could I have done it? Maybe. Would the finished work have met Dad’s standard for a great Dillard novel? I doubt it.

After doing some research, I discovered an entire ecosystem of writers I never knew existed - professionals who write in the crime/thriller genre for a living that are familiar with the intricacies of criminal procedure. This was the route I decided to take to honor the Dillard legacy and create the best possible novel.

Then I had another decision to make – do I find a co-writer to be alongside Dad’s name on the cover or go with a ghostwriter? After an excruciating amount of thought, especially knowing this book would be an ending of sorts to the Joe Dillard Series, I decided I wanted the entire series to belong exclusively to Dad. So, ghostwriter it was. I connected with a brilliant writer, and he and I got to work on producing the novel. As previously mentioned, Dan and I already had a solid outline, fully fleshed out character arcs, and some chapters written, so the writer wasn’t starting from scratch. He immersed himself completely in the Dillard books and came out the other side feeling like he would be up to the challenge.

After a year of hard work and several rounds of revisions, we had a finished manuscript. Our collaboration was the most brutally difficult, heartbreaking, and important work I’ve ever done, especially since those labors were taking place in the shadow of Dad’s massive legacy. That being said, I’m immensely proud of what we were able to accomplish.

Now, to address the creation of the J.D. Pratt pen name. Originally, I intended for this book to have Dad’s name alone on the cover – the entire Joe Dillard Series would belong exclusively to Scott Pratt in perpetuity. However, after sending the book to one or two close friends, one bit of feedback was clear – since Dad passed nearly five years ago, readers are going to wonder: Who wrote this book? Since most people familiar with his work know he’s been gone for some time, it could be confusing. I agreed – there needed to be a second name on the cover.

Even though this last book in the Joe Dillard Series would no longer be solely a Scott Pratt novel, I still wanted the name alongside his to represent his essence and our family. So, I decided I’d create a moniker with Pratt as the last name. What should the first name be? Arthur, since that was Dad’s first name (Scott was his middle name)? S.K. to represent Scott and Kristy (my mom)? Kris? Since this project was so collaborative between me, Dan, the writer, and Dad’s spirit, I eventually landed on a pen name that encompassed all of those elements and was a tribute to Dad’s legacy. J.D. Pratt was born (J.D. = Joe Dillard).

I want to finish by once again saying thank you for staying the course with me. The last five years have been a tumultuous cacophony of sleepless nights, grief, stress, and self-doubt, complete with a side of imposter syndrome. Hell, I even broke out in shingles during the week leading up to Blood is Black’s release (I’m in my mid-thirties). Still, even through all of that, I’m proud of the book we were able to produce. Dad would be, too.

To you, dear readers and friends: I’m sorry it took me so long. You have my eternal gratitude for sticking with me. You won’t be sorry.

To my Uncle Dan and those who helped me finish what Dad started: I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to re-pay. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

To my sister, Kody: You’ve been a light in the darkness as I’ve navigated this stormy sea of loss and despair. My rock. I love you more than words can express.

To my wife, Kadey, and my son, Jett: You are the anchors that keep me tethered to this world. My sun and my stars. I love you both more than you can possibly imagine.

To my parents: I gave it my all. I hope you’re proud. I loved you both before I was born, and I’ll love you both after I’m long gone.

-Dylan Pratt

Last Resort

Blood is Black is Available

BLOOD IS BLACK IS AVAILABLE IN ALL MEDIUMS

Amazon US → bit.ly/3SXjR34
Amazon CA → https://amzn.to/3J0lMz9
Amazon UK → https://amzn.to/3kVCYhg
Amazon AU → http://bit.ly/3F7CjQQ
Paperback → http://bit.ly/3M94KSS
Audible → http://bit.ly/420dAYj

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I'm not half the man or storyteller Dad was. I hope you can forgive me for that. But we really tried to do his manuscript justice in finishing what he started. Bottom line: I think it's a good story, and I hope you enjoy it.

Happy Pub Day, Dad. I miss you, and I love you. Sorry it took so long.

-Dylan Pratt



Best,

Dylan

Presley Carter is Almost Here

Dear readers and friends,

I'm thrilled to be on the precipe of sharing Blood Is Black with you. It's the first installment in the Presley Carter Series, which, for now, is planned as a trilogy. Per the agreement Dad signed with Audible Originals, this book is exclusively available on Audible for its first 4 months, which started November 17th. I'll be releasing it in paperback and Kindle on April 1st.

The completion of this project has been a long time coming. Dad actually started working on the manuscript in late 2017. Mom's health was rapidly declining before her passing in June 2018. Those months were devastating for all of us, Dad especially so. Still, he wrote as much as he could before joining her in November 2018. To this day, I'm still amazed that he was able to complete half of this novel given the circumstances. It's a testament to his strength and resilience. I'm still so proud of him.

It took me a long time to claw my way out of despair after losing both of my parents, especially so close together. Dad had long told me it was my duty to take his legacy forward when he was gone, but I had never truly considered what that reality would look like. I felt lost and broken for a long time.

By late 2019, I could almost hear Dad's voice telling me to quit wallowing in self-pity and finish what he started: Get off your tail. I had read the 150 or so pages Dad had written several times over, and I had a good idea of where he wanted the plot to go. I set about finding a writer that could help me capture the voices of the characters Dad created and finish the book. It took some time, but I eventually found one that fit the bill.

This writer, Travis Johns, and I worked countless hours and went through several edits, finally finishing a draft we felt good about in late 2020. After submitting it to Audible, we eventually got the green light. After one more round of edits, the book was finally finished and slotted for a release on Audible in November of 2022.

Terror, pride, anxiety, excitement, bitterness, love, imposter's syndrome, catharsis. All of these emotions rage like a tempest through my mind as I prepare to release this book to you. Did I do justice to Dad's work? What will his fans think? I guess I'll know those answers soon.

I'm not half the man or writer Dad was. I hope you can forgive me for that. But I really gave this thing my heart and soul. Bottom line: I think it's a good story, and I hope you enjoy it.

Almost Pub Day, Dad. I miss you, and I love you.

Best,
Dylan Pratt

PS Here's a link to the pre-orders on Amazon for those that are interested:

Amazon US → bit.ly/3SXjR34
Amazon CA → https://amzn.to/3J0lMz9
Amazon UK → https://amzn.to/3kVCYhg
Amazon AU → http://bit.ly/3F7CjQQ

The Writer’s Predicament

I haven’t blogged in a while because I haven’t had a whole lot to say, at least that’s what I tell myself. It isn’t really true, though, because I talk to myself all the time. So today, instead of talking to myself, I’ll talk to you for a little while.

We had a bit of a celebration here last week. Not much, just a couple of attaboys and a couple of drinks. The reason? I passed the 150,000 mark, meaning I’ve sold 150,000 Dillard books since January 1, 2013. That’s a pretty big number, especially considering where I was last year at this time.

And where was I? In writer hell, that’s where. I’d just gotten the rights back to my first three novels after Penguin quit on them, but Penguin was still selling them on Amazon and Barnes and Noble and Sony and everywhere else. It would take another month of harassment from me before they finally quit selling them, then another couple of months for me to rewrite those books, get them formatted, design covers and get them up and running under my own publishing imprint. I also published two more Dillard books over the ensuing months and in back in June I released a literary fiction novel called “River on Fire.” It’s doing well, too, though not nearly as well as the Dillard books. So “Cheers,” right? Sometimes the underdog digs up a bone that still has a little marrow in it.

And speaking of my own publishing imprint, you might be interested to know that it’s called “Phoenix Flying, Inc.” It is now run by my son, Dylan, and we have just published our newest novel. It’s called “Be the Death of Me,” written by a young lady named Rebecca Harris. I ran across Rebecca a few years back when she asked me to take a look at some of her work. She was an aspiring author and had begun the arduous process of submitting her work to agents in an effort to get published. I encouraged her because I thought her work was excellent. Not my genre, mind you, but excellent nonetheless. She had “it,” if you know what I mean. Her characters came to life on the page, she was an imaginative storyteller, and her writing crackled. I knew how tough it was to break into the business, but I thought she’d be able to do it. I was wrong. She received rejection after rejection, lame excuse after lame excuse from the agents to whom she submitted. I didn’t hear from her for a couple of years, but a few months ago, after my books started to take off and I realized I might be able to help other writers do the same, I reached out to her and made her a proposition. I told her that we (Dylan and I) would publish her work under the Phoenix Flying imprint. We’d flip the traditional publishing platform and give her eighty percent of the royalties she earned while we’d keep the remaining twenty percent. We’d send her an accounting every month. We’d take care of the editing, the cover design, the formatting and the marketing, and we’d sign a contract that allowed her to walk away after five years whether she was selling a hundred books a year or a million books a year. She agreed and we signed a contract. So Dylan went to work, and as of today, Rebecca’s book is no longer a dream. It’s for sale on Amazon, and if you’re a fan of paranormal mystery or romance, you should check it out. It’ll only cost you 99 cents, because we’re selling it for cheap for a couple of months while it finds its audience. I’m tickled for Rebecca, proud of Dylan, and looking forward to watching them both shine in the publishing biz. And if you’re a writer – a SERIOUS writer – and you’re looking for a publisher who won’t screw you, send Dylan an email at dylan.pratt21@gmail.com. Maybe you guys can work something out.

I’m also encouraged about the progress my wife, Kristy, has made over the past few months. After we learned that her breast cancer had metastasized to her bones in November, we all went into a bit of a tailspin. It got worse over the ensuing months as she went through a brutal series of radiation treatments to her spine. She lost a bunch of weight, had zero energy, and her blood counts got dangerously low. But the doc at Vanderbilt University put her on a treatment plan that now seems to be working quite nicely. Her blood counts have recovered, her energy is back, and she has returned to her beloved dance studio and her students for another year with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. And happy feet. You have to have happy feet to be a dance teacher.

So all is well in the world of Pratt right now. I know things can change in the beat of a heart, but I’m learning not to worry about what might happen. When things are good, my plan is to chill and enjoy.

And I thought I had nothing to say…

 

 

The Writer’s Predicament

My predicament last Friday was this:

“Am I really flying this plane? If I am, how in the heck am I going to get it to do what I want it to do? Like land in one piece?”

My wife, Kristy, was in the back seat of a single-engine Piper Warrior. Beverly Barnett, a legendary local trainer of pilots, was in the seat next to me, and I was rolling along at about eighty knots thirty-five hundred feet above the earth with my knuckles as white as bleached bone and a look of horror on my face.

Beverly had sent me an email and asked me if Kristy and I would like to take a little spin with her. I’m always up for stuff like that, and Kristy has been feeling pretty good lately, so I said, “Sure, let’s go.” I thought I’d ride along casually in the passenger seat and look out the window, take some photos, and just sort of chill while Beverly flew us around.

But no…

Just as we were walking out to the tarmac, Beverly mentioned that I would be flying the plane. My stomach tightened a bit and I thought about crying, but I bucked up like a tough little soldier and said, “No problem.” She took me through the pre-flight, let me start the engine, told me how the airplane worked, all that. Before I knew it, we were lifting off the ground and gliding through the air. What a rush!

Okay, I’m lying. Of course I didn’t fly the plane. Beverly flew the plane, but she did let me take control of it a couple of times for a few minutes. It was great fun. What was even more fun was when I discovered that we were going to stop by Beverly’s house for a few minutes and realized that she actually has a runway in her neighborhood. She lives  in what is known as an “air park.” Everybody in the subdivision is a licensed pilot and owns a plane. They all have hangars attached to their houses. They land on the runway and taxi to their homes. It was outrageously cool. Once we landed at Hensley Air Park, Kristy and I climbed out of the plane and were met by Beverly’s husband, Jack Kiehna, who gave us a tour of their fantastic collection of antiques and their beautiful home. We took a little ride through the country, got back onto the plane, and flew back to Tri-Cities Regional Airport. Along the way, we buzzed the Bristol race track.

I dropped a little gift basket by Tri-City Aviation a little while ago, but I also just wanted to thank Beverly Barnett and Jack Kiehna publicly for a simply splendid morning. They’re wonderful folks and gave Kristy and I an experience we won’t ever forget.

This writing thing has its perks. I’m loving it.

The Writer’s Predicament

I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been writing. I have a new Dillard book in the works and I’m trying to get it finished by July 1. No promises. It’s going well, but no promises.

I’m re-writing a book that I wrote a couple of years ago called “Russo’s Gold.” It was a decent effort, but the circumstances under which I wrote that book were, to put it mildly, difficult. I had been told by my agents that the Dillard series was dead and that I needed to write a stand alone novel under a pseudonym so the publishing industry wouldn’t know it was me writing the book since my publisher had dumped me and once one of the big publishers dump you, you’re dumped by the other five. I was about to lose my house. My kids were in college and needed money and I didn’t have any to give them. My wife was sick. It sucked.

Things are far different now. The Dillard series is going nuts, so I’m rewriting “Russo’s Gold” as a Dillard book. It’s an extensive rewrite because Dillard obviously wasn’t in “Russo’s Gold.” He’ll be the main character in the rewrite. It’s a fun book about a young lady who finds a fortune in gold hidden in a cave. The problem for her is that the gold was hidden there by a bootlegger who worked for a big-city gangster back in the Great Depression era. When she finds it, she has to figure out a way to keep it. Things get extremely complicated.

I removed my last blog, the one I wrote about my agents firing me without telling me. After reading it a few times, I thought it was a bit over the top, a little too snide and a little to angry. Those guys initially believed in me and my work and represented me, so I guess I owe them some kudos for that. But when the business started changing and digital books and indie publishing came on the scene, they weren’t ready to deal with it and they didn’t adjust. Neither did anyone else in the traditional publishing business. They wanted things to stay the way they were, and I can understand that. I got caught up in the mess and it hurt me and it hurt my family. But I’ve moved beyond it. I’ve moved way beyond it.

I’m now selling more than 30,000 books a month. Wait, that was last month. The way things are looking, I’ll sell about 40,000-45,000 this month. All five of the Dillard novels are among the top 10 bestselling legal thrillers in the Kindle store. Amazon does this author rank thing now, and I’m number 20 in thrillers authors as of a few minutes ago. I’m up there with Patterson and King and Baldacci and Connelly, guys I’ve idolized in the past and still do. I’m actually ahead of Grisham. Can you believe that? Less than a year ago I was living in my mother-in-law’s basement.

My wife, Kristy, is still fighting like a champ. Because the breast cancer metastasized to her bones, her blood counts – things like hemoglobin and white blood cells and platelets – became dangerously low. When she was going through radiation back in March I thought we were going to lose her, but she made it through and her blood counts are steadily improving. She just finished her annual dance recital (she did two of them on the same day) and they were fantastic. She continues to inspire me and I love her more than I can begin to say. I love her so much that I’m seriously considering buying her a convertible sports car and giving her Jeep to my son. I promise she won’t mind.

Summer is here, the sun is out, and we get to watch it set over the lake every evening. The books are going great, Kristy’s off for a couple of months, and both of our kids live nearby. It’s time to relax, at least for a while, and to appreciate the good things life can bring.

I hope your summer is going to be as good as mine. Thank you for the kind emails you’ve sent and for all the support you’ve given me.

I wish you peace.

 

 

The Writer’s Predicament

I found out a while back that my agents in New York fired me.

I’m no longer listed as one of their clients on their website.

Damn, what a predicament! Whatever shall I do?

These guys didn’t have the balls to tell me they’d fired me. They just decided they weren’t going to represent me anymore because of something I wrote in one of these blogs. I’m not sure which thing it was that offended them, but it could have been any one of many. It might have been because I said they were worthless, or gutless, or irrelevant. Who knows? I can just see them running around their stuffy little office in the Hamptons and saying things to each other like, “Can you believe this guy? We’ll show him. We won’t represent him anymore.” Like it mattered.

I found out by accident, when I sent an email up there about getting an advance on an advance that was owed to me and had been owed to me for several months. They didn’t file a tax document that should have been filed, which delayed the advance, so I asked them to go ahead and send me the money and then they could keep the check that would eventually come from the publisher. I was told by the office manager – a guy I really like – that I would not be given an advance on the advance and that I had been fired for insubordinate blogging.

I guess this means I won’t have to give them fifteen percent of the five or six or eight hundred thousand dollars (maybe a million) I’m going to make selling ebooks this year. I also won’t have to give them fifteen percent of the audio book deal I just made. I’d asked them to get me an audio book deal several years ago. They never bothered. I have a sweet deal now that’s going to make me another boat load of money that I won’t have to share with them.

And oh yeah, I won’t have to share all the money I’m going to make in England, where they never bothered to get me a deal. “An Innocent Client” is the Number One best selling legal thriller on Amazon.uk right now, and the rest of the books are in the top fifteen. The Brits seem to like ol’ Joe Dillard. I knew they would. I just knew it.

It also means that the agents won’t get to go to cocktail parties in New York and regale their companions with stories about how they discovered the guy that has FIVE BOOKS IN THE TOP TWENTY BEST SELLING LEGAL THRILLERS on Amazon. That’s too bad, really, especially since they did so much to nurture my writing career, like selling me out to a pisant editor at New American Library and telling me that the Dillard series was dead and that I should write something else.

It also means they won’t have to talk to me on the phone once a year or ignore my emails. That should be good for them, because I’m sure it bothered them to make me feel like I was invisible, unimportant, and had no chance of succeeding in the book business. I’ll bet they lost sleep over it, had trouble eating, and suffered from gastro-intestinal problems. Guilt will do that to you.

All the mickey mouse crap they did would have been okay, I guess, if they had told me up front what they really were.  Literary agents, when you first start dealing with them, tell you they’re advocates for writers, and while that may be true to a limited extent, what they don’t tell you is that they’re basically self-important shills for the publishing industry. Agents can’t do anything the publishing houses don’t want them to do and they can’t make the publishing houses do anything at all. The publishers tell them the terms of the contracts and the publishers draft the contracts. All agents really do is serve as a filtering system for the big publishing houses. They read solicited and unsolicited manuscripts in the hope that they’ll find something a publisher will pay for. Once they do that, they have no more input in the process with the notable exception of collecting the money. The money goes from the publisher to the agent and the agent sends a (measley) check to the writer.

Now that Amazon, digital books and indie publishing have come along, the agents have nothing to do.

They’re pretty much irrelevant.

So things really haven’t changed much at all, have they?

 

The Writer’s Predicament

I love Amazon.

I really do. I love them as much as Donald Trump loves Donald Trump.

And why do I love them? I’ll tell ya why. Because my latest predicament as a writer is what I’m going to do with all the freakin’ money Amazon is making me. It’s SO… DAMNED… COOL.

Actually, I know what I’m going to do with the money. I’m going to spend a significant portion of it on my wife, who has endured my starving artist years with the patience of a kindergarten teacher. I’m going to spend a bunch of it on my kids, who have managed to get through college without their own cars and who have scrimped and scavenged to get by for the past five years. I’m going to spend some on other people, too, people who have helped me out during the lean years. I might even save a little in case things go back into the toilet, but as long as I keep writing stories that people seem to like and as long as I stay loyal to the Amazonian hand that feeds me, I don’t see myself swirling around the bowl any time in the foreseeable future.

I still keep up with indie publishing, and lately I’ve been reading a lot about how Amazon has brought all these indie writers into the fold and that their grand plan is to eventually shaft indie writers the same way the traditional “Big Six” publishers do. They say Amazon is starting their own imprints and they’re only promoting their own writers. Eventually, they say, Amazon will cut royalties for writers and take the lion’s share of the money.

That’s a load of crap.

Amazon takes care of writers better than any company in the world. At the same time, they take care of their customers. Why? Because it makes them money. It seems to me, bottom line, that Amazon is about selling quality products at a competitive price, and if I’m not mistaken, that ideal has been the single most important driving force behind what we Americans like to call capitalism. I like capitalism, especially now that capitalism seems to like me back.

Amazon has sold more of my books in three months than the mighty Penguin managed to sell in three years. I don’t know exactly how they do it, but they do it. Folks who know about such things say it has something to do with algorithims. I play the drums so I have rhythm, but I don’t do algorithims. I’ll leave those to the Amazon mathmeticians, God bless ‘em every one.

The new book in the Dillard series is almost finished. Finally. I’ve changed the title from “Finding Lindsay” to “Conflict of Interest.” I’ve imposed a March 1 deadline on myself to have it done. Then it’ll be off to the proof readers and then to the formatter and then, after nearly a year of struggling with it, it’ll hit that big bookseller called Amazon. The Dillard series is starting to hit its stride, despite the fact that my big New York agent told me less than a year ago that it was dead in the water and that I should write something else. The reveiws have been numerous and fantastic. I’m excited (can you tell?) about the future.

By the way, did I mention that I love Amazon?

P.S. I know a lot of you are concerned about Kristy. I’ve spoken to her many times about whether she wants she wants me to continue to air her business in public, and she always says yes. It might help someone who is going through a similar struggle, she says, so go ahead. Right now, she’s going through radiation. The cancerous tumors on her spine have fractured three vertebrae, so the doctors thought radiation was imperative because if those tumors aren’t dealt with, she could wind up paralyzed, or worse. If the radiation does what it’s supposed to do, it’ll kill the cancer cells and those cells will be replaced by healthy bone. While she’s going through radiation (another week and a half) she’s off the chemo, but the radiation makes her extremely tired, it has irritated her throat so much that she can barely swallow, and it makes her nauseous. She continues to lose weight. But you know what? She still goes to work every day. Radiation is at 1:30 p.m. She’s out by 2:00 p.m. She usually starts her dance classes at 4:00 p.m. She does it every day. She is truly amazing.

And finally, I told you last time I’d let you know I’d let you know what I got her for her fiftieth birthday. I got her a brand-spankin’-new Jeep Wrangler, cherry red, hard-top convertible with a six-speed manual transmission so she can shift to her heart’s content. When I told her I was going to buy her a car, I said, “Pick something. Anything you want. Within reason.” And she picked a Jeep, and I think I know why.

Can you say, “Tough?” That’s my girl. Tough as a pine knot.