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The first ŷ������ giveaway is going out the door. I ran it for a week and 761 people registered to win an autographed copy of Scourge of the Betrayer. Which, considering I edited the copy midstream and ŷ������ took a day to approve things, haven’t run an ad on ŷ������ yet, and nobody knows me from Adam or Abdul, seems like a pretty decent number.

So, congrats to Laeser Tyburn—I hope you enjoy the book!

People might not *completely* judge a book by its cover, but it can certainly intrigue or turn people off in 2.5 seconds. I know how fortunate I am in having a kickass, uber-awesome cover–it can only help drum up interest for the book. I’ve heard horror stories of authors hating the covers their publisher came up with, so hats off to .

I’ll be running another giveaway here shortly. Stay tuned.

OK, I promised not to be negligent and pull a disappearing act. But I swear I’ve been busy. Just not, you know, on this blog. I’ve been writing guest blog posts left and right though. That probably isn’t the right thing to day, is it? “Sorry I haven’t been home having sex with you; but it’s OK–I’ve been��out banging other people!��

Sorry. But here I am again. Blogging where I�� belong. Begging for forgiveness. Promising never to stray again to try to be more attentive. That’s got to count for something, right?

I started my first ŷ������ giveaway this week. Being a complete neophyte to any promotional activity at all, and an infrequent ŷ������ participant at best prior to this, I have no frame of reference. But it feels like it’s going well. Almost 450 people have registered to try to win a free autographed copy in the five days since I posted it. And one of those days was a total wash, because I’m kind of a jackass and decided to add “AUTOGRAPHED COPY�� to the header of the giveaway, not realizing the good folks at ŷ������ would need to re-approve the thing. Which makes sense, I suppose. I mean, I could have put in a picture of two camels having sex. With a small Norwegian man. So I guess they need to check to make sure the authors aren’t up to any crazy shenanigans.

So, there are a couple of days left on the first go around. I’m going to run a second giveaway hot on its heels though, with probably two or three copies, and probably for two or three weeks instead of just the one. This, in conjunction with running an ad on ŷ������. Which I’ve heard helps with traction and exposure.

Of course, it’s hard to track how much good this all does in getting my name out there or boosting sales. But I figure the giveaways only run me some postage, which won’t be terrible unless someone on the other side of the planet wins. And you set the cap on the ad, and being a cheap bastard who has to pay for milk for three thirsty girls, I won’t be ponying up a ton there either. So I figure it can’t hurt, right. Other authors seems to think this helps, and while that might be only anecdotal, it’s all most of us have to go on in the promo game, so why not?

I was going to use Goodread’s funky little giveaway widget, but apparently WordPress doesn’t allow Java script, so just visualize a cool widget right here that tracks how many awesome readers are trying to get a free copy of the book. If it helps, imagine the widget naked. I know I do.

I returned home last week and discovered a couple of boxes sitting on the front steps. We hadn’t ordered anything recently, so unless the UPS guy was drunk again, I was pretty sure it could only be one thing, even though they showed up a week earlier than expected. My wife arrived at the same conclusion at the same instant, shrieked, and gave me a punch in the arm that would have made Mike Tyson circa 1988 proud.

I raced out of the car, ran up to the boxes, and nearly tripped over one. Which probably would have ruined the moment if I went flying into the door, twisted my ankle, and fell in the bushes. At least for me. The neighbors might have enjoyed that.

The boxes were as heavy as expected. My heart was hammering away in my chest like, well, a pulpy, muscular hammer. Which, let’s face it, is gross and not especially useful. But this was the moment I’d been waiting for my whole writing life. What else was my heart supposed to do?

My advance copies were in my hands. It was finally real. The proof was in front of me—I was a published author at last. Unless it was an elaborate hoax, in which case I would spend the rest of my days in prison for murdering the sick bastard prank-puller.

In my haste to rip the boxes open, I almost impaled the scissors in my leg. But somehow I managed to keep flesh (and more importantly, the books) intact.

I thought I’d share a few quick snaps from my craptacular dumb phone. It’s amazing it even has a camera, but it’s the best I could manage right then. . .

I completely understand why George Foreman named all his sons kids George. Sure, it probably confuses the hell out of them, but at least he knows he can’t screw anything up.

Me, on the other hand? When I am tired, frustrated, or distracted (which is roughly 6 ½ days a week), there is a very good chance I will call one of my daughters by the wrong name, sometimes twice before stumbling on the right one.

Well, the eldest reached her limit this weekend. When I accidentally called her Scarlett for the third time in one day, she yelled, “Daddy—stop calling me Scarlett! If you call me Scarlett again, I’m going to start calling you mommy!!��

There are two potential outcomes here. Either this humiliation tactic works and cures me of screwing up their names. Or it prompts me to build that inescapable tower in the backyard and reserve the penthouse suite for daughter #1. Whatever the heck her name is.

I’m still new to this whole guest blog post thing, but at least I am no longer a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

The folks at were kind enough to give me the opportunity to post on their site. Which is a fantastic place to visit, by the way. Everyone remotely interested in science fiction or fantasy should give it a gander, in my not-terribly��humble opinion. Great articles and reviews galore!

I wrestled with what exactly to post. Not for lack of ideas, but a surplus—I started about 10 posts that went in 100 directions, and I kept spinning off��into the blather-zone. But, after significant effort, I was finally able to reel myself in and focus on one idea. Through the entire piece even.

So, without further ado, my guest post: “Avoiding Tired Tropes When World Building.�� Not to be confused with the ever-popular “Avoiding Tired Ropes When Sail Building.��

That’s a terrible joke–who’s moderating this place?! Oh, yeah. Me.

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Sometimes the first line in a novel is such a beauty it gains an identity all its own. Even if you never read Moby Dick, you can probably quote the��opening line, or at least would recognize it if somebody else did.

Being someone who doesn’t always spend his time wisely, I sat round imagining what some of those first lines might have looked like in first draft. . . ��

“It was a dark and pleasant night. Right around 70, no humidity, easy cool breeze. Perfect sleeping weather.��

”Call me. . . Humperdink. Or Humpy. That’s what friends call me. Well, I don’t have many, but they would if I did. Lucky name for a whaler, I reckon.��

“It was the best of times, it was. . . nope, that about covers it. Historically low unemployment and crime rates, booming economy, no racism or bigotry to speak of. Pints of happiness, on the house for everyone!��

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins, one way ticket to the big house. Thanks for nothing, you little brat.��

“In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. Always wipe, he said. Always wipe.��

“I am an invisible man. Or The Invisible Man. Or maybe it’s Aqua Man. Whatever, I’m kind of a big deal. Unless I’m just an invisible man, in which case, never mind me.��

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. And a rock-solid prenup��

“This is the saddest story I have ever heard. Well, this and the one about the old lady who rescued stray cats, only to be eaten by them after she died. Although that’s actually a little funny, so I stand by what I said—this is the saddest story.��

“The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. No. Hold up. Satellite’s working again. Tuned to Animal Planet. And it’s all kinds of colorful. HD too.��

“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. But then claimed she was a little short, and could someone lend her five pounds, which was so bloody like her.��

I just got the final dust jacket for the hardcover. And I have to say, it is. . . ��BAD. ASS. It��would kick the snot out of Chuck Norris with its flaps tied behind its back.��The designers, ��and , just nailed it. Top to bottom, left to right. Fantastic. And did their usual remarkable job pulling it all together.��

and ��were kind and generous enough to provide some great author blurbs, too, which I’m grateful for.��The whole effect is just. . . wow.

In case you can’t tell,��I am thrilled. ��

So, without further ado or additional blathering, here it is.

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Let me know what you think!

For those of you wondering if Scourge of the Betrayer is the sort of book that will��separate you from some��hard-earned cash, here is an excerpt for your reading pleasure. Not having done this before, I wrestled with exactly where to pull the text from. Part of me was tempted to select a slam-bam action sequence from the middle of the book, the kind where you feel the dust kicked up by a passing horse, hear the twang of a crossbow releasing its bolt, smell the sweat of fearful men. But then I thought, lacking context or any familiarity or emotional stakes in the characters, it would only be so much sound and fury. And really, stinky sweat? Right out of the gate, without so much as an introduction?

So I opted to go the traditional route and present a section from the very beginning. And just so you don’t accuse me of being stingy, I’m giving you a pretty meaty sampling, too. No tiny teaser here. You get to really dig in.

I figure that way, you can get a good feel for the book in order to decide if: 1), Scourge is not only the kind of��novel you simply can’t buy fast enough, but the very sort you will happily recommend to friends, family, and strangers on a train, even if they don’t ask and might actually be trying to avoid eye contact; or 2), refer back to 1).

In all seriousness, I do hope you enjoy it. I have five mouths to feed. OK, so two of them are dogs, and one of those is smaller than a lot of cats. But still.

I’m also housing this in the main menu, so it doesn’t get archived and passed over.��Enjoy!

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Welcome to the my little corner of the Web. Don’t mind the mess.

I’m a newbie to having a website and to this whole blogging thing, so bear with me as I fumble, stumble, or flounder. I’ve often heard that that it’s better not to bother at all than to post infrequently (or drunkenly), so I’ll do my best not to disappear on you for long stretches. Or drink heavily before posting.

First off, I need to thank Gabriel McIntosh for putting this thing together and giving me a playground to romp around in. I’m no Luddite, but if I’d been left to my own devices, there’s no telling how this site would have turned out. Ugly is one guess. Out-of-order is another.

In the posts here, I’ll be addressing latest developments with my writing and publications, of course—new books, covers, titles, the moment the publisher tells me to pack sand because they can’t tolerate my high-maintenance shenanigans any longer. I’m guessing if you’re here, you expect that sort of thing. But I’ll also try to spice it up with musings about other topics, too. Sports. Kids. Corn dogs. Lemurs. Whatever.

So, thanks for joining me here. I’m really glad you made it. I’d give you a grab bag or some schwag or something to keep you coming back, but if you had any idea how much I owe in student loans for two completely unmarketable English degrees, you’d laugh yourself silly.

But I imagine I will be doing some book giveaways or something along those lines at some point down the road. So stay tuned.