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…