Stuart Thaman's Blog, page 13

December 31, 2014

Fantasy Editor Tries His Hand at short story writing

A few months ago, I somehow convinced the editor I worked with on Goblin Wars and For We Are Many to write his own short story. The story isn't long - give it a read and see what you think!

Power

by Josiah Davis

Power. It was what I sought—and what I had achieved. Years of intense training, of humiliation under my…master—I shuddered at the word—had finally come to fruition. I had power far beyond anything I had ever thought possible. I gave a mirthful grimace, the closest to a smile my cracked lips had formed in months, as I thought of the irony of the moment. Power, and yet it wasn’t truly mine…or was it?

I rose from my treetop perch, slowly stretching my legs, feeling the taut muscles contract and expand as normal blood flow resumed. Drawing Bloodweep from my back, I held the bow out in front of me with my lone, living arm, the weight of the wood perfectly balanced and familiar. I gazed down my right side, looking at the limb that I treasured beyond all elseand despised in equal measure. The rotted flesh had remained in stasis, thankfully not decomposing further. The arm radiated strength and might, giving off a faint black aura of energy to those who looked closely enough. Such…power, and yet it was nothing I could have achieved by natural means.

I leapt down from the tree, landing without a sound on the cold, hard earth below. Gazing into the clearing, I steeled myself for what was to come; though in truth, I had never felt more ready. Two years. Two years it had been since I was cast away. No, since I was set free. My master- the taste of that word still bitter on my lips- had denied me further training, telling me that I was not ready to learn more. I had trained with him for over a decade, confident when I first began my work that I could surpass him. And yet, no matter how much progress I made, it was never enough. He always stood above me, his skill entire leagues ahead of mine. He told me my ability had increased tremendously, but I was not ready to learn all he had to offer until I had traveled and experienced the world on my own. Experience the world. I had done as he wanted, ventured forth and seen what the world had to offer. Though somehow, I don’t think killing an undead archer lord and taking his arm for my own was what he meant.

I thought back to the moment those many months ago when I had heard tale of Rivonor, a famed warrior of old, rising once again to haunt the crypts beneath Kardolind. The work of some Lich or another; that part didn’t matter to me. I quickly found a group of greedy-eyed adventurers, their lust for treasure dripping from their worthless countenances. None of the miserable group possessed even a modicum of true strength. Their Warlock seemed content to go about his daily life in drudgery, apparently ignorant to the good-hearted nature of the rest of the group. Their Priest was even worse: as far as I could tell, the man couldn’t cast a single healing spell to save his life, or rather I should say, the lives of his party members. Their Paladin was a useless example of purity, and would sooner apologize and mend the armor of a man he struck down than finish him. The rag tag ensemble was completed by a Wizard, whose spell book seemingly consisted of a single spell, and even that he casted poorly. If the fools and I had any hope of eradicating Rivonor, it would rest near entirely upon my shoulders.

We had cut through the denizens of the crypt with ease, though not to any credit of the weak band. Upon first glance, it appeared as if the undead were merely fleeing from our swath of destruction, but I knew it was something more. They were drawing us in, guiding us. As the arrogant fools of the party confidently strode through an unusually large stone archway, I held back, knowing that preparation, not bravosi, was the true precursor to victory. Their reckless laughter was cut short as they took full stock of the death trap they had leisurely entered. All of the reanimated corpses that had fled from our assault had regrouped in the chamber, which seemed to be the throne room of the crypt. Scores of the undead lined the walls of the room, all heavily armed with sword and shield or bow.

Sighing in frustration, I knew the time had come for me to show this group the true measure of the warrior that had graced them with his presence. I stepped forward into the room, drew Bloodweep from my back, and let the grim work of a true artist begin. All actions slowed around me as my focus set in and my mind fell into the familiar pattern, drilled into me from years of training: set, draw, aim, release, set, draw, aim, release. On and on the rain of death continued, the shafts flying from my bow with the calm, practiced precision of a surgeon. Arrows sang as they lanced through the air, shearing the undead bodies into splintering fragments. Bone shards and dust exploded all throughout the room as the piercing bolts of death struck unerringly true.

I gave pause as my first quiver ran dry, stopping to take measure of what life still remained. The dust slowly cleared and the entire worthless rabble I had journeyed with turned to gawk at me, awestruck. Every member of the corpse horde had been splintered and destroyed. Their dry, cracked remains were strewn about the floor, littering the room with debris. As the dust fully settled, I finally caught sight of him, the entire reason I had gone on this worthlessly trivial expedition. Rivonor rose from the cold stone throne, standing tall and proud, despite the cracked and rotted flesh that covered his body. Without a word, he pulled his bow off of his back, set and nocked an arrow with blinding deftness, and let fly. The speed! I thought to myself, blown away with the level of strength he exhibited. And unlike Bloodweep, which was a composite bow meant for pure draw speed, he was wielding an absolutely massive greatbow; the huge, carved wooden shaft had to have been at least six and a half feet long! The strength to draw that bow, and the agility; this man has true power. The arrow streaked in…and flew far wide of anyone in the group. I was taken aback. How can he have such strength, but shoot so poorly? He drew again, the muscles in his draw arm visible as he pulled back the string to full tautness and released, all in less than half a second. Once more, his arrow flew far from his mark, or any mark for that matter, as it clattered harmlessly against the stone wall. Slowly, the truth began to dawn on me. His body possesses all of the strength it used to, but he no longer has the mind of a true archer. Grinning inwardly, I knew that my prize was now within sight. I ordered the group to charge and the feeble minded fools immediately followed the commands of one they knew was their better.

The conflict was over in mere seconds. Rivonor, though possessing strength and power in his body, was no more than a mindless husk, an empty shell of his former glory. The Paladin landed a devastating mace strike upon his rotting hip, and the joint shattered, exploding in bones and decayed flesh. The undead Ranger fell to the ground, still alive, but helpless, and unable to rise once more to his feet. A loud cheer echoed across the stone floor as the group celebrated their “victory” over the reanimated corpse. As a true testament to their cowardice, however, none of the party were willing to even attempt to deliver the final blow. Each took a wide berth around the flailing, helpless body of Rivonor as they predictably split up and began searching for treasure amidst the rubble. Their looks of avarice disgusted me and I cringed inwardly as I watched them claw desperately through the debris for anything of worth like wild animals. Now. Now was the moment I had waited patiently for, the entire reason I had put up with these wretches. I reached back into my second quiver, and my body fell into the pattern of death once more. Set, draw, aim, release.

The Wizard’s head snapped forward as the first shaft lanced through his skull, ending his life instantly. Another arrow was already flying before any of the party knew that something was amiss. The next two were equally helpless against the face of true skill; my second shot tore through the exposed throat of the Paladin, silencing any defensive wards he was attempting to raise. I stared down the helpless Priest next, my stony resolve unwavering despite his desperate pleas for mercy. The third shaft pierced his head between the eyes, rocking his skull backwards. I watched his eyes go dull as his last breath escaped his lungs. Finally, I turned to the Warlock, arrow already set and drawn. I caught the faintest hint of a whisper crossing his lips, but too late. My bolt flew from the string and I smiled as I watched it land squarely in his chest, ripping the life from his body…and then suddenly burst into flame. I stood watching in shock, and then felt a blinding pain sear across my right arm. Realization set in. Those words he was murmuring, it was a spell! My right arm erupted in flame as the backlash from his fire shield took full effect. I watched in horror as the skin began to crackle and melt, the pain freezing me in place.

Finally, I jolted into action, agonizing pain tearing through my entire body. I attempted to roll to the ground in a feeble effort to quell the flames eating my flesh, but only succeeded in falling forward to my knees, my dexterity crippled from the wounding blaze. I writhed on the ground in horrendous pain, feeling bits of bone and sharp stone dig into my body, further exacerbating my torment. Finally, after minutes of this agony, my efforts paid off and the flames were staunched against the rough dirty floor. Shaking and groaning I rolled to my side and looked in open horror at the smoldering husk of my arm. The burned limb bubbled and cracked, the slightest movement at all causing ash to freely fall. I’ll never use this limb again I thought in horror. My mind began to race with the repercussions of this, though I knew the truth; I would never be able to fire a bow. I couldn’t let this sacrifice be wasted though. I was here for a reason.

Now I was alone, and free to accomplish what I had come for. I strode weakly towards the writhing body on the floor, the helpless undead apparently able to feel pain in his reanimated state, judging from the agonized expression etched into his visage. Such power, and yet all wasted. I had come here to learn of his strength, but now I realized that plan had been in vain. This worthless creature had the strength of Rivonor, but no idea how to control it all. Frustrated, I turned and began gathering salvageable arrows, when my peripheral settled on something. His arm. I immediately dismissed that thought. Can that power be mine? Is it possible to seize the strength of one so mighty and make it my own? It was impossible- ridiculous to even think. And yet…his arm had given him the incredible draw speed and power I had marveled at earlier. Slowly, my mind began thinking of the possibilities. The power to wield a bow like an ancient lord of battle. My resolve strengthened, and I made up my mind. Searching around the room, I finally settled on a sharp, serrated axe that looked closer to a hacksaw than a true weapon. As I grabbed the tool and felt its weight in my grasp, the undead’s eyes seemed to grow wider in terror. Ah, so you can think freely. Poor beast. This won’t be pleasant.

I emerged from the crypts some time later, blood and gore covering my torso, and a large burlap sack slung over my back. Dozens of townsfolk swarmed me as I walked down the street, buffeting my every step. I roughly shouldered my way through the throng, cursing inwardly at the hideous pain that wracked my body from the contact to my seared arm. However, my stride remained unbroken; I didn’t have time for those peons. My path now clear, I strode through the city, outwardly confident and stern, but inwardly apprehensive about what I was going to do. Kicking open the door of the apothecary, I strode through the front of the store towards the back, where I knew the city’s only black market surgeon worked. I dropped the coarse sack on his table, smirking at his shocked expression as a rotted arm fell onto his already bloodstained operating table.

“I have a job for you.”

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Published on December 31, 2014 10:46

December 10, 2014

Quotation Marks and Other Instruments of the Devil

I was reading a book last night when suddenly, I came upon very strange looking punctuation. The book is horribly written trash, the apparent standard for the big presses these days, but it felt well edited. Or so I thought.

Without giving away the book, here is basically what they wrote: "Blah, blah, blah, ghost and shit, OMG teen drama, blah, blah"."

That's right - they have 3 punctuation marks... In a book that is consistently ranked in the Amazon top 1,000. Next time someone berates small press for poor editing, I really want to hand them this garbage and see what they think.

Anyways, what's the actual rule for quotations and punctuation? The error above isn't the only one I've seen. Many authors (and presumably editors) are baffled by the required location of punctuation involving quotes.

Here it is: unless you have a rather uncommon sentence structure, punctuation goes inside the quotes.

Looking for more specifics? Here is a website that beautifully explains the rules.

And of course, since the Brits insist on doing everything their own way, England basically throws all expected grammatical conventions out the window.

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Published on December 10, 2014 05:59

December 1, 2014

Book Trailers: yes or no?

I've read a lot of posts around the wonderful interwebz that talk about book trailers: short little video clips that summarize a book's plot in about a minute.

Personally, I've only ever watched a few, and they were mostly for books I had already finished. I liked a few, I disliked a few.

Has anyone ever watched a book trailer and then bought the book specifically because the trailer was that good? Has anyone ever watched a trailer and decided against a book they were previously interested in? What makes a good book trailer?

Do you think your book trailer has the right stuff to seal the deal and bring about a sale? Post it below and I'll embed it in this post!

Probably the best book trailer I've seen:

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Published on December 01, 2014 16:04

November 26, 2014

Peer into the mind of a horror editor...

Interview with Sanitarium Magazine editor Barry Skelhorn

When did you get into the fiction industry and what drew you toward the horror genre?

When I was young, my Granddad lent me a copy of Frankenstein – which I devoured. Soon after that he lent me Dracula and a few collections of M.R James. Over time I read more and more horror and it grew from there.

There is just something about horror and the written word, the writer leads you one way, but it is your imagination that fills in the darker gaps and that’s the beauty of it.

As an editor selecting a story for publication, what is the line that you won't cross? How much violence, even beautifully written, is too much?

Personally I think that most subjects, if they are in the correct context can add to a story. However I won’t entertain any works of fiction with any graphic sexual reference to minors.

What is your take on the standard giants of the horror genre such as King, Matheson, Laymon, Bierce, and Koontz? How do some of the indie writers of today stack up against the legends?

Everyone has to start somewhere. As the story goes; without Tabitha King picking Carrie out of the bin and giving her feedback maybe King wouldn’t be where he is now.

There are so many indie authors that are making strides in the horror genre today – it would be wrong to single a few out. I would also like to give a shout out to the small and not so small independent presses that are keeping the integrity of the business together.

When selecting a story for publication, do you tend to prefer more psychological and subtle themes or more overt and graphic tales?

The way Sanitarium works is simple – you never know what is going to be behind each case file. Each issue that we collate we try and keep a mix of sub-genres so there is an eclectic collection of tales for the reader.

I find going from (for example) one zombie story, then another and another is great. But after a while you end up comparing them and not enjoying them as much.

What direction do you see the Sanitarium Magazine taking in the future? Any major milestones coming up?

We are working on a new look that we are bringing in one piece at a time. The magazine will be offering a printed copy as payment from the start of 2015. Also we are changing the tag line so we can cover more in its pages. “Showcasing Horror Fiction, Dark Verse and Macabre Entertainment”

Which issue of Sanitarium Magazine do you consider to be the best? What sets it apart?

Cover wise I love issue 20 with Kevin Spencer’s artwork “skull” – the vibrant colours and washed effect really works for me. As for the stories, there are a few stand out ones for me but we have found everyone has their favourites and we’re happy with that.

If you could interview any horror writer, living or dead, who would it be? How do you think they would act face to face?

Sadly one of the greats we were close to interviewing with was James Herbert. We are based in the UK and he lived only a short drive away but it was not to be. I think his style of writing where it was quite close to the bone both with gore and sexual undertones struck the right balance.

I would of course love to interview Clive Barker, Stephen King.

What is the most terrifying thing you've ever read?

I think this has to be put in context. I was 16, on a family holiday in France and we were staying in a large converted farmhouse just outside of Bordeaux – I was staying in the bat house.

Whilst staying there I started to re-read Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot. The summer storms were a sight to be seen and the atmosphere was just right for a good scare. So with every turn of the page, the story gripped me more than it had the first time around.

Have you had any horrific experiences in your own life that you couldn't explain?

I wouldn’t say horrific but there were a couple when we stayed in the farmhouse. Whilst staying in the bat house one night I felt something hit the bedframe at the foot of the bed. Thinking nothing of it I just fell back asleep. I felt it again, this time I was jolted awake and flicked on the light. My Brother, asleep in the other bed next to mine, was sound asleep. Looking around the room, nothing seemed untoward, so hitting the light I went back to sleep.

It wasn’t until the morning when both of us awoke did we realised what had happened. My bed, which has started flush against the wall, was now a good foot from the wall.

It turns out that when they were renovating the farmhouse, they came across a soldier’s helmet with a bullet hole through it – I think I was sleeping in his snipers nest and he wasn’t best pleased.

Finally, does your love of horror branch into other media such as movie, music, art, etc.?

Most media interests me in the horror world. I have mentioned Clive Barker as a writer but I also love his style of art from “The Hellbound Heart” to “Abarat” and everything in between. If I could I would have a piece hanging in my office for inspiration. Another that I really have a lot of time for is the theatre and plays such as Danny Bolye’s Frankenstein, Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black. It would be interesting to work with some of the writers who have appeared in Sanitarium and put together a 3 Act show with some of the stories.

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Published on November 26, 2014 09:26

November 24, 2014

Interview with Evan Camby

Evan Camby

What got you into horror? Have you always been a fan of the genre or did one particular work pique your interest?

From a very young age, I preferred horror and the macabre to anything else. I remember one year I missed a lot of school because I got very sick, and I spent the days in bed watching a marathon of old Vincent Price films. Many of them were based on works by Edgar Allan Poe, which guided me towards his books. I read everything I could of Poe's and he was my first, biggest influence. I loved the way he created such rich, Gothic atmospheres even in very short works.

On of your stories, Hat Man, deals with night terrors. Do you have any personal experience with sleep paralysis or other terror-inducing sleep disorders? An interesting phenomenon occurs during the hallucinations triggered by sleep paralysis where the brain has trouble recalling the face of a remembered person and thus places a hood or dark hat over the character in an attempt to make the blurred face appear logical.

Hat Man is definitely based on night terrors I had when I was young. In fact, 80% of what Bernice lives through in Hat Man are things that actually happened to me. I have read all the scientific explanations behind sleep paralysis and night terrors, and I do think there is a physiological component to them. However, no one will ever be able to convince me that there isn't also a supernatural element to what I experienced.

Have you ever used a Ouija board yourself? If so, how did it go?

I have, with a childhood friend. We both loved ghost stories and anything spooky, so we played with it often. The only thing I can remember happening when we played was that she would get terrible migraines almost every time, which is part of why we stopped altogether. Another reason we stopped was a story that her mom told us. Her mom said that when she was a little girl, she played with the Ouija with her friends, until something happened that scared them out of it. One of the girls she played with had recently lost a family member who, by all accounts, was not a nice guy. So, they asked the board what happened to him, if he was in a better place, that type of thing. She told us that the board suddenly shifted under their fingers, and then spelled out "Satan knows" before sliding across the room and hitting the wall. Of course, she might have made the whole thing up, but that story coupled with the migraines was enough to scare us out of playing with the Ouija anymore. I haven't picked it up since.

Almost everyone experiences some type of terrifying, unexplained event. What's yours?

Other than the night terrors, which were truly terrifying, I have experienced a lot of strange events. I'll pick one from when I was a kid. I grew up in a house set back deep in the woods, with big windows all over the first floor looking out at the trees. My mom says I used to stand at the windows and smile and wave outside. One day she asked me who I was waving to, and I said, "All the people." Now, no one was outside. At least, not that she could see.

Do you believe in ghosts? How about spiritual beings such as angels and demons?

Definitely, I believe in all of them. I don't think that this life is all there is and that there is a lot we don't know and can't prove. There is real evil in the world, both natural and supernatural. I also believe there is pure good and love that counteracts that, whether it's angels or God or whatever your particular beliefs name it.

When you first started writing horror, how did your friends and family respond?

It's not a surprise to anyone who knows me. Most little girls play with baby-dolls--I had a plastic skeleton who I named Skellie that I carried around. My parents are a little shocked, though, that I remember the night terrors so vividly, since it's been over twenty years since I first had them.

What has been the most difficult thing that continually plagues you as an author?

Self doubt is a huge obstacle to getting words on the page. What I've learned to do is "brain dump"--just get it all out there. No matter how terrible that first draft is, you can always go back and change things, edit, add, subtract. My advice to writers who struggle with the same issue is to give yourself permission to suck. Really, it's OK if what you put down is terrible at first. None of it's permanent, it's not as if your first rough draft will be tattooed on your body forever. But if you don't at least start somewhere, the words will never make the jump from your brain to the page.

What is the most unique advice you've ever been given by another professional in the writing world? Did that advice prove to be useful?

I read an interview where Stephen King answered the question, "What makes a talented writer?" or something along those lines. I'm paraphrasing, but basically he said that if you write something, and someone pays you for the story, and you then take that money and pay your light bill with it, he considers you talented. I love that. It takes the pressure off of setting out to be the next Hemingway, and lets me have fun and focus on being a storyteller who people pay to entertain them. That's something I can be proud of, too, it's not all about Pulitzers and The Paris Review.

If you had to pick one author for your writing to be favorably compared to, which would you pick? What elements from other writers do you try to incorporate into your own writing?

In my dreams, Vladimir Nabokov, simply because of his mastery of the English language. As far as my genre goes, Stephen King knows how to tell a great story and create realistic, flawed characters, and that's my main focus in writing. The fanciest prose, scores of allegories, and a dreamy, stream-of-consciousness style of writing are worthless if you can't tell a story worth a damn. I want to entertain and help people immerse themselves in the more visceral and scary elements of the world in which we live, and he is the master of that.

Lastly, where can we find your stuff?

Amazon * Twitter

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Published on November 24, 2014 15:27

November 19, 2014

Got a pretty cool paperback yesterday...

As you may recall, a while back I got to read and review Into the Aether by T. C. Pearce. If you read that review, you'd know that I really, really enjoyed that book. Yesterday, I got a copy of the paperback in the mail. I was thrilled to see an excerpt of my review printed on the back!

I plan on giving the book to my fiance, Anna, who loves YA and supernatural fantasy, and who also does book review videos for YouTube. I can't wait to see what she thinks of Into the Aether. It really is a fantastic book.

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Published on November 19, 2014 04:45

November 12, 2014

Hydra Publications Owner Tony Acree AMA on /r/books

Curious about the mind of a best-selling thriller writer? Have a question about the publishing industry? Interested in learning the ins and outs of a small press?

Don't miss Tony Acree's AMA Thursday, November 13th, on www.reddit.com/r/books!

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Published on November 12, 2014 20:09

November 8, 2014

Oldham County ComiCon

Just got back from the Oldham County ComiCon - also known as OC3. For a first year event, it was done incredibly well. They advertised heavily, organized it well, and drew in over 3,000 people! The Hydra Publications booth did very well and I sold out of my Goblin Wars paperbacks. I got to see tons of great cosplayers, met some awesome fans, and hopefully made some new fans too. All in all, it was a solid event.

I'll certainly be coming back again next year. Already looking forward to it.

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Published on November 08, 2014 18:26

November 6, 2014

Interview with Raven Oak

Raven Oak

Amaskan's Blood

When writing high fantasy, what is the most difficult aspect of world creation?

For me, the most difficult portion of world building is linguistics--making sure that the character & place names of a world fit each individual country's or kingdom's culture, without sounding like an obvious "borrow" from France or Christianity. I want my fantasy worlds to be rich and complex and sound like they are their own entity rather than just something borrowed or revamped from Earth. I'm not a linguist, so making sure I do that well takes a lot of time and effort. (Why can't we all be Tolkien, dang it!?)

Where do you find inspiration for your character names and regions of your world?

Oops! I sort of answered that in the question above by complete coincidence. To elaborate, I enjoy borrowing. InAmaskan's Blood, the name of the continent is Boahim, which reminded me of Hebrew words. Knowing that the Hebrew culture and mythos has played a heavy role in literature, video games, movies, etc., it worked well for a culture steeped in religion and war and family. All three are heavy elements in my novel. But I wanted each individual kingdom in the Little Dozen Kingdoms to still be distinct in its own identity, so I tweaked elements or created them anew as needed. The Kingdom of Alexander has a fairly heavy French-English influence, whereas Shad borrows elements of its naming and culture from India. When I'm writing sci-fi, I do much the same thing. Building entire civilizations and planets full of people isn't all that different in sci-fi vs. fantasy.

How has being a writer impacted your everyday world?

Being a writer changed everything. Cliche answer, yet true. Honestly, I never did see things the same way others did, even as a child. People would walk past the busker on the street corner, but in my mind, I'd by asking a million questions. Why was he busking? Was he homeless or did he just want to entertain? Or did he need a music job and think this would be the way? Why guitar? Because it was easily portable, or did he always feel drawn to that instrument? The questions wouldn't end until I'd created an entire scenario in my head about this busker that I passed five minutes ago.

In a more literal sense, writing changed my world because after twelve years, I quit teaching to pursue writing full-time. My day to day has changed. I now spend 8-15 hours a day writing and editing. In some ways, I'm more busy now than I ever was a teacher working 55 hour work weeks.

Where do you find the best inspiration outside of other fantasy novels?

Everyday life. Just people watching. Also, dreams. Some of my best ideas began as dreams.

In your opinion, what is the best fantasy world ever created, in any medium?

Wow. That's a tough question. I don't know that I can answer with only one world... Off hand, I would have to mention Middle Earth (Tolkien) and Pern (McCaffrey). Those are the big ones that stand out in my mind. If I can, I'd throw in the mythos of Star Wars and Star Trek because their influence alone has been monumental to sci-fi/fantasy.

As far as your writing process is concerned, do you tend to make a plan and stick to it, or do you prefer to let the story arise organically as you go?

A mix of both. I outline in a decent amount of detail, but I'm not adverse to allowing the story to grow and develop outside of my outline. For example, with Amaskan's Blood, I had a completely different ending in mind when I began the book, but as the characters grew into the story, the twists moved the plot line in a different direction completely--a better direction, I think. (And no, I won't say what the ending is because...spoilers!)

What is the best advice another writer has ever given to you?

Put my butt in the chair and write. Every. Single. Day. Also: All rules are meant to be broken, except that one!

What has been the most frustrating aspect of being an author?

The business side of it.

With the growth of social media, promotion and marketing has rested firmly on the shoulders of the authors. It's time consuming--time better spent writing--but books sell best through word-of-mouth. If a writer wants to be successful, promotion and marketing is a necessary evil.