I done blowed up the blog…

Yeah, so things are changing, and the first thing you'll notice is, the old addy zoewhitten.com/wordpress/ no longer works. That's because in switching hosts, I sorted out how to install WordPress in the main public directory of my new web host, with help from the folks in Namecheap's tech support. Well, after I finished that, it occurred to me that all the books would have to be edited to show the new addy. Yay. No, screw it. I'll get around to fixing those later. The point is, I've changed hosts, and the blog is secured for another year. Any problems y'all have with the old address are my fault, and I apologize for that.

Oh, also, I was supposed to make a backup file of the old blog and transfer it over. That didn't work out so well, so I have to export a backup from the free blog. This means I lost all your comments. All your base are belong to the ether. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahem, I'm sorry about that too, and I assure you it was not intentional. I screwed up the backup, and then the domains swapped before I had a chance to try again. I'm lucky that I thought to host a free version of my blog, or there would have been no mirror posts to take and fix my fuck up with. But yes, mistakes were made in the process of moving. I totally take the blame for all technical snafus that arise from this move. I'm a baaaad nerd. No cookie.

Obviously, this won't be the same blog as it was in previous years. What this new year will bring, I don't know. Definitely more reviews of other peoples' stuff, and definitely a lack of promotions for my stuff, even when I do release something new. Yes, I really don't plan to tell you when I drop new stories. It's not that hard to find my stores, and if you care enough to look for new releases, you'll find them. But I'm done with begging and pleading for sales. You people make me feel like a homeless guy with a cardboard sign. And let me tell you something. When I really was homeless and wrote up a sign, I never used it. I took it out to the highway, yes. But then I walked up the highway and applied for a job at a movie theater. I got that job and worked so hard that the manager let me and my roommate live there. Double shifts? sure, why not? I have to go upstairs when the place closes anyway.

I got too much pride to sit on the side of the road and beg for mercy that you people don't have. And the same is true here. I never got a real publisher, so to most of you people, I'm just a panhandler on the information superhighway, and my books are like trashy cardboard signs. It doesn't matter how I write them, or what I write about, because even if I was really good, none of you would take me seriously.

This, however, is incredibly liberating. I can accept that I'm a hack, and I don't have to write well. I don't even have to pretend anymore. Did I miss a typo? Who cares? I'm just a hack anyway. Did that last cover look cheap? Who cares? The big guys use stock photos and bland text, so if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for a hack like me.

I don't have to talk to reviewers, and I don't have to bang my head against a desk when someone completely ignores the book I wrote and instead invents a whole new story in place of what I wrote. I don't have to feel betrayed by friends after reading their reviews. I can just go to my little corner of the internet and pretend the rest of you don't exist. Kinda like Obama and Bush, but with less weapons of mass destruction and remote drones at my disposal.

And that reminds me, it's time to talk about cancelled bombs. I'm dropping all Mystical World Wars titles, and will not be releasing the books I had in the editing queue, Revival of the Magi and Wereporno. Sales have been extremely low on all the MWW books, regardless of which races or monsters I wrote about. The series has reached the end of season one, and yet most of the books rot in obscurity after getting lousy reviews once. (For shit that didn't actually happen in the book, even.)

There won't be two more Zombie Era books explaining what happened to Susan. I was going to begin that project this year, but after an initial burst of positive reviews for both books, nothing else happened. Which is pretty much the case for all my books with good reviews. Sure, I can get praise from reviewers. But after that, nothing happens.

I'm also giving up on plans to write the Sandy Morrison series, and although I'd announced beginning writing on Sandy Morrison and the Pixie Prohibition, I'm dropping the idea and moving on. I'd been told that audiences were looking for a trans-positive fantasy story. That was a blatant lie. Straight people wouldn't touch a tranny book with a tranny's dick. What they really mean when they say "I support diversity" is, "I'm hoping these hollow words will make you go away." And they do, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a reminder that most "good people" are fucking gutter sucking scumbags who are only watching out for themselves.

Li'l bitter there, Zoe? Oh, a touch.

I digress, I am currently writing book four of the Peter the Wolf series, Thicker Than Blood, but I will no longer be writing a companion series for Alice, which would have dealt with her coming to terms with Peter molesting her, and with her cursed nature. So the series will instead conclude with Peter abandoning everyone to turn himself over to the FBI, and there won't be any explanation for whether he ever gets better or not.

I'm releasing Penny for Your Debts as an ebook sometime soonish. I don't know when, and I won't promote the book. I've begun releasing The Marriage of Jason and Julie as a web serial on a blog of its own, but I won't promote it either, nor will I promote All Maid Up. (Though I will eventually complete the series and edit it to make a giant single ebook volume.) I won't be seeking feedback on any of these projects, nor will I be looking for beta readers on future projects. For all intents and purposes, I am done interacting with the online world.

And as we start out this new year with a more anti-social me, let me remind you, this is not a public forum. This is a private blog, and should be considered my digital home. It is not a storefront, and you are not a customer. You are a visitor only. Thus, I am under no obligation to give you anything you want, just because you want it. This is why, when you want a public venue to lecture me, you better take your entitled ass to a public forum where it belongs. I won't follow you to read your bullshit. But you can at least vent your spleen in a place where other like-minded assholes can also harrumph my decision to ignore you.

If you as a person came into my real home and started lecturing me about my opinions, I would tell you, "Bitch, get the fuck out of my house." No one else would bat an eyelash, either, because it is my home, and you are my guest. To retain the privilege of being my guest, you are socially expected to behave yourself. Break that simple rule, and you're not welcome anymore.

It's the same thing here. Which is not to say I won't entertain debates. I don't care if you disagree with me and want to illustrate a point. You can do that without being a douchebag to me and talking shit. You can debate my opinions without tearing me down or trying to lecture me like I'm making terrible life choices. I'm making great life choices. I live in a nice house, and have a good husband, and spend most of my days reading or playing games. Why? Because I retired at 30. Ha. I fucking win.

My roundabout point is, if you cannot debate without being a dick, don't be shocked that your comment never gets out of moderation. You don't like it? Fuck you, bitch, and there's the door.

I cannot make this clear enough; this is not a storefront or a platform for branding. It's a diary that you all have access too. If you want to follow the mental wanderings of a crazy lady living in Italy, welcome to the digital equivalent of Casa Whitten. But if you're here cause you want to tell me how I'm not "selling myself right," you're wasting your time. I'm not here to "brand myself" to you. I'm here to bitch and moan and make fun of rich people. If you're down with that, cool, hope to see you around for the new year. For the rest of you, don't let the door hit your ass on the way out.