Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Update: Books And Stories Galore

In the writing business you need to have a plan for finding the income you need because you're the one responsible for keeping the flow going. Since I've taken on the mantle of an indie publisher, I've been doing double duty both producing new writing and also designing the books and stories for publication. I can't believe I'm doing it, but I know that much of what I do is laying the groundwork for future income. It doesn't deal with the deficit today. It is up to me to find the sources for income in the coming months.

I've just released a second book, Remember The Ride: The Story Of North Vermillion Girls Basketball's Sensational Four-Year Run, back on January 16th. That book is starting to sell. We had a decent release for the book but I believe the sales will continue to climb on what is a popular local story. Beyond that,  I have three additional books that will see publication during the first half of this year. One of these is an epic fantasy novel that I have been planning to bring out for some time now. The other two are nonfiction books that I've been doing with co-authors.

Seems like a full load doesn't it? But I'm not done yet. I have plans this year to produce not only a ton of stories (per my short story challenge) but I also hope to get a few novels under my belt too. The big lesson I'm learning as a publisher is that the more books I have available the better my sales will be. Many--perhaps most--publishers work on the premise of earning modest amounts of an ever-expanding list of available titles. This doesn't include the trend in publishing that focuses only on the home runs--the bestselling writers--and forgets about the much larger midlist.

There are a lot of prospects going forward but I'm still looking for paying work. I have to start now even though I have some money yet to show up. Also, it means I'm spending a little time selling Remember The Ride, just letting the locals know it exists. Getting it out there in front of people so they have the opportunity to buy it.

In other news, I published a collection of the first five short stories I published lat last year. It's called Five Stories: Volume One. It is an ebook and can be purchased for Kindle, Nook, and on Smashwords (for iBooks, Kobo, Diesel, Sony, and other e-readers).

I will be updating again when I've accomplished some of these plans. I'll keep those reading posted. It's a great time to be a writer. I looking forward to taking a piece of the pie.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Challenge Story #5: The Fall Of The Witch-King

Here it is folks, the latest of my short stories. I am currently writing another tale about Fendreg Of Senagra, but this was the first of the warrior's stories. Lovers of Conan the Barbarian may enjoy The Fall Of The Witch-King. 



The Fall Of The Witch-King
Shaun Kilgore

Copyright © 2012 Shaun Kilgore
Published By Founders House Publishing, LLC
All Rights Reserved.


The Craven-born attacked the walls with their hands of fire, battering the stones, searing them, and melting them down. They came by the thousands to the walls of Hanbare, city of the East, driven there by the will of their master. The acrid stench of molten stone burned Fendreg’s eyes, but he rallied the Hanbari archers. The roar of his commands launched volley after volley down onto the seething mass of the Craven-born. Scores died, their arrow-riddled flesh bubbling and blackening as they screamed. Still, they came at the wall, the eerie glow of their hands lit up the waning night like a thousand flames. Fendreg drew back his long bow, took aim at the slack faces of the Craven-born, and searched their fierce, bestial gazes for even a spark of humanity. There was nothing.

Fendreg screamed his anger to the gods, let loose his iron-tipped arrow. His aim was true. Two of the creatures were pierced. He drew more arrows from the pile at his feet. The twang of the arrow string was echoed a hundredfold by the Hanbari.

A rumble pierced the din of men’s screams, an ominous sound. Fendreg ran along the top of the wall, rushing past the archers continuing their methodical work. The clatter of his armor plate pounded in counterpoint to his hurried steps. He still had the longbow gripped in his hand; a half-used quiver dangled at his hip beside his short sword. Again, there was a deep rumble followed by a tremor in the stone beneath his feet. Fendreg doubled his pace. Ahead Hanbari gathered in a tight knot, their attention fixed below at the outer gate.

"Move! Move you curs, let me through!" Fendreg growled. "I swear to the Two Mothers, I’ll skin you alive!"

The Hanbari gave way. Fendreg climbed onto the stone of the rampart, leaning over so he could see. At that moment, another rumble issued from directly below. The tremors were stronger. Loose flecks of stone dropped off into another force -- mere men this time -- below as they maneuvered an enormous battering ram made of oak topped with the iron face of a dragon.

Fendreg cursed. He searched the writhing heap looking for Argrell himself, the Lord of Devenar. The sorcerer-king was nowhere in sight. Fendreg pulled free an arrow, readying his bow to shoot. In moments, he had launched several shafts at those who labored with the ram, striking legs as often as heads. No sizzling or bubbling this time, just the flow of red blood pouring out on the flagstones, only to be smeared by the feet of the other soldiers.  As he watched, others took up the places at the ram, paying their fallen comrades no mind whatsoever. This time Fendreg could hear the creak of the wood as it started to give way. The groan reverberated through the stones. The Hanbari who had been watching looked at Fendreg. They waited.

"Archers, I need more archers now!"

Friday, January 20, 2012

Challenge Story #4: Ghosts Of America

I hope you enjoy the latest story. As with the others, I will have this up for a week to read absolutely free. Afterwards, the story can be read in its entirety on most e-book readers. Thanks.



Ghosts Of America
By Shaun Kilgore

Copyright © 2012 Shaun Kilgore
Published by Founders House Publishing, LLC
All Rights Reserved.


I remember the sound of the planes in the skies. I can still hear the distant rush of monstrous jet engines hurtling the sleek steel bodies above the clouds, ferrying people from one point to another across the great expanse of the United States – and the world beyond. The commercial airliners have been grounded for nearly thirty years now. The big blue canvas of the sky free from the streaks of exhaust fumes that made me stare up in wonder and the massive cabins rusting away amidst the weeds between empty hangars and vacant terminals.

I flew on an airplane twice. The first time was when I was nine-years-old. It had been a short flight out of Chicago over to Baltimore with a change of aircraft in Detroit. I was up and down again before I knew what was happening. I was sorely disappointed. My mother tried to explain how it worked, but I didn't want to hear. I only wanted to soar in the sky – and never come down again. I had my own dreams. I wanted to be a pilot. Of course, that didn't work out. The second flight happened when I was twenty-six. It was 2015 and I was living in Chicago and working as a website designer for a small start-up company that I had formed with my partner (and fiancĂ©) Jessica Hamilton. I flew out of O'Hare airport and across the country to Los Angeles, feeling as giddy as that long-gone nine-year-old as I watched the landscape rush by far below. Jess had asked me to attend a blogging expo in order to talk with some potential clients about building a powerful web presence through social networking. I didn't hesitate. I didn't care what she wanted me to do. I had the chance to fly and I took it. It was the last time I ever did.

It's all gone now. They are just bits of memories that I sift through from time to time though it happens a lot on Sunday mornings. I can remember a time when I would have been watching a football game on television. (Yes, honest to goodness TV!) Jess and I used to have barbeques on Sunday and invite Bill and Amy so we could all gather in front of that enormous glowing screen and watch our beloved Bears play their hearts out.

How long has it been since they pulled the final plug? Probably twenty years ago now. About the time David and the other boys in our neighborhood took the trains south to fight in Texas. I remember sitting in the living room watching the spotty footage from one of the small affiliates still left in operation. We stared on as the fighting with General Juarez's army took a turn for the worse out in the abandoned suburbs of Houston (It was the last of the Texan cities to fall under independent Texan control.) I remember clutching Jess's hand as we watched David's division falter and collapse under the retired general's superior tactics. The old U.S. army just didn't have the resources left to quell yet another upheaval in the South. While Texas got its precious independence, our son's body was delivered back to us in an unadorned pinewood box like so many other identical boxes by those same trains.

It's become so hard to keep track of all the body blows the country has taken over the last several decades. So much has been lost – even squandered – while we came to terms with reality. It's easy to cast blame, to seek out some face to pin the pain I've suffered, that my family has suffered, upon. Especially, when all that is left are the phantoms of long-dead politicians haunting the crumbling halls of Washington government.

Knock Knock.

I put down the pen, letting the journal drape across my lap. "Come on in. Door's open," I said. My voice was weaker than it used to be. I'm getting too damned old.

The door creaked open and Seth Clark walked in carrying a canvas bag heaped with corn and other produce from the farmers' markets in Greely Park.

"Mr. Harris, I've brought you these from Mister Ross's stalls. He says he owes you for helping him get his solar water heater working again."

I nodded absently. "Yes, well, tell him I said thanks for the veggies. And that I'm glad the heater's working again."

"Will do." Seth paused in the doorway. "Mr. Harris?"

I looked up from the journal in my lap. "Yes, what is it Seth?"

Being A Bestseller: Is That What It's About?

Let me tell you, there have just been a lot of great posts lately about the new world of publishing. Just the other day I included a link to J.A. Konrath's blog. Today, Joe hit another one out of the part, discussing bestsellers and the myth that has grown up around the lists.

In Konrath's post The Myth Of The Bestseller he discusses the viewpoint of both legacy publishing and indie publishing regarding the importance of bestsellers lists. Unfortunately the economic considerations and allure associated with one's book hitting a bestseller list is entrenched. When you see a book that says, #1 New York Times Bestseller, you attach greater importance or clout to that book (and often the author too).

While in legacy publishing this had an economic dimension since the lists work on the velocity of sales during a set period in most cases, the bigger more established publishers (especially those in NYC) have a greater interest in those titles that turn over the most sales as fast as possible. The perspective, you would think, would be different with indie publishers, but there is still a lot of thinking that puts greater value on a "bestselling" title. In that way, the indies look to their legacy counterparts.

But that isn't what indie publishing is about. The myths surrounding "the bestseller" often stand in the way of indie authors getting out more books and stories and slowing down to tweak sales and bury themselves in promotion just to reach some illusive and transitory benchmark. Becoming a bestseller is not the only way to rate yourself a success in this new world--if it ever was in the old one in the first place.

Success

How do you rate success as an author? Honestly, for me and many other career writers, it is about making money from their work, even to the point of making a viable living with writing alone. That is a far better gauge of success than becoming a bestseller.

"Bestsellers have always been an anomaly. The real story is about the midlist, and how many writers can get paid. And right now, more writers are getting paid for their writing than at any other point in history. That's freaking amazing. And it's a much more important story than one about 11 authors who made the NYT List. Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled for those 11 authors who made the NYT list. I'm also thrilled for my own success. But I'm especially thrilled for the thousands and thousands of authors who are making ends meet because they achieved their goals and self-pubbed their ebooks. Any writer who puts food on the table with their writing is successful. It doesn't matter if it is a box of mac and cheese, or caviar and champagne. Taking your career into your own hands, giving it your best shot, striving to do better... that's the American Dream, baby."

More About Bestsellers

Just prior to reading Konrath's post, I went over to the Kris Rusch's site and read her weekly business blog,  The Business Rusch. She had a great article about bestsellers lists herself. Kris really goes into the details and talks a lot about the lists themselves and how they were established and what they're all about today.

The post, entitled Bestsellers Lists And Other Thoughts, is definitely worth the read as well if you want to get more information on the topic. Things have changed in the publishing industry regarding the status of the bestsellers list. The expectations are lower and the terms have changed. I found the post a fascinating overview. If you're a writer and/or an indie publisher, you ought to check both Konrath's article and Rusch's too.

Perspective

I feel more motivated to focus on storytelling and selling those stories than in receiving accolades such as becoming a bestseller. Would it be cool if it happened? Maybe so. I'm not immune to the fantasy. However, I'm more interested in getting a message from readers who happen to like what I write. Even better, I sell the stories I write and make some sort of living in this business.  That's some perspective for you.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

J.A. Konrath's Take On Author Publicity

Not everybody knows J.A. Konrath. I sort of realize that again. Much of the information I get these days is about the publishing industry from the inside, the sort of info that only writers care about in most cases. By and large, the readers don't track this kind of stuff. Anyway, Konrath is a bit of celebrity author in some small circles. As he says himself, he's gained some notoriety because of his advocacy of indie publishing. He's the guy who just lately sold $140,000 in ebooks on Amazon in the last thirty days...he's been a big seller for a while. But, you've probably never heard of him.

In his post about publicity, I found that he echoed the sentiments expressed by Dean Wesley Smith and other long-term writers. In the realm of book sales, promotion and publicity do not typically increase the amount sold.

I'll let you read for yourself. Here's the link: The Value Of Publicity

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Upcoming Book Signing

With a new book that has a lot of local interest, I knew it was important to have a local signing event to launch the book. I hope for a great experience all around. For those who don't know yet, I co-wrote a book called Remember The Ride: The Story Of North Vermillion Girls Basketball's Sensational Four-Year Run

On January 27, 2012, both Ken "Cruiser" Gentrup and myself will be signing books at the North Vermillion Jr./Sr. High School, our local high school in Cayuga, Indiana. We will be there during the Friday night basketball games and will also be attending a reception to be held after the games. The night also serves as a commemoration of the ten-year anniversary of the 2002 Girls State Championship team. Most if not all of the girls from that team will be in attendance.


Saturday, January 14, 2012

Challenge Story #3: Agent Of Change

Each week I will have free fiction on my website. You will get to read a different story absolutely without charge until the next story comes up. Afterwards, an excerpt will be left on the site. If you want to read the rest of the story you can buy it for Kindle, Nook, and other e-readers.






Agent Of Change
Shaun Kilgore

Copyright © 2012 Shaun Kilgore
Published by Founders House Publishing, LLC
All rights reserved.


The crowd was roaring by the time he approached the podium. I was standing back, scanning the corridors, the aisles, and the individual faces of the people lining the path. Members of my team were muttering in my earpiece, checking in, and noting incidentals. We were practiced at our business. Only once in three years did we have an issue - one that was quickly swept under the rug. POTUS never knew a thing.

While President Anderson delivered a keynote speech for the fundraising rally, I watched the corners of the hall. Each of us has designated areas. No one could watch this many people on by themselves. It was always a team effort. When the chief executive's life was on the line, you took every precaution.

POTUS was good at his job too. He had the crowd eating out of his hand. These people were his base, but still his pumped them up like they were new to the political scene. I had watched this man uplift people time and again. The wonderful true of it was that he meant every word. I had been following David Anderson for three years now. Standing vigil over him day and night, I had the deepest access into his daily life and what he said behind closed doors in the Oval office. I was the team leader for his security detail. POTUS had given me more than enough reasons to be loyal to him. I would follow that man wherever he led.

As the speech was nearing a crescendo, I whispered into my wrist mike.

"Gregory, Tolbert, POTUS is wrapping up his remarks. Is everything clear along the exit path?"

Neither responded.

"I repeat, Gregory, Tolbert, do you hear me?"

Still nothing.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Two Great Additions By Bestselling Writers Dean Wesley Smith & Kristine Kathryn Rusch

I can't say enough about what these writers did for me. Both continue to elucidate the world of publishing and the potential that is available to indie published writers in a landscape of ebooks and digital sales. Dean Wesley Smith has credentials, certainly. More than thirty years in the industry, with over 100 published novels and countless short stories to his credit--and other works written under pen names, Dean is also a tough-talking critic and a fount of knowledge. I've learn a lot by reading both his blog and the blog of his wife, a fellow bestselling writer, and award-winning editor, Kristine Kathryn Rusch. In her weekly column, Kris casts a flood light on the often murky environs of the publishing industry.

Below I am including links to both of their latest blog posts:

The New World Of Publishing: Investing In Your Own Future

The Business Rusch: Why Not?

I'm on a new path as a business and as a writer in large part because of the new perspective I gained by considering the thoughts and ideas of these two authors. Now I am busy forging my own path, trusting my own writer's voice more, and developing a more long-term mind set when it comes to the growth of my career. No more chasing the publishing lottery, no more looking a "home run" book. If it happens, that's great. But, I just want the chance to grow as a storyteller.

I hope those following along enjoy the updates, news, and articles I supply here. I feel good about this year and I have some goals I will work to achieve by the close of 2012.

Thanks for stopping by.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

A New Book Is Coming!

Well, I've done it again. I've gone and written another book. : ) It is a great feeling to take another step as an author.  That all said, here are the details:

Remember The Ride: The Story Of North Vermillion Girls Basketball's Sensational Four-Year Run


Description: From 2000 through 2004, a small Indiana high school's girls basketball program engaged in an amazing four seasons of play. Led by Coach Ken "Cruiser" Gentrup, the North Vermillion Lady Falcons and assistant coaches reached unimagined heights.  


In 2002, Gentrup led his girls in a race to the top, ending with the Class A State Championship crown and other titles to their credit. The team returned to defend their title in 2003. Along the way, the Lady Falcons broke records and took their school and the fans on an amazing fifty-game winning streak. 

Remember The Ride is their story, the story of a group of talented young women who achieved big dreams by putting all of their ambition and skill to the test.  

The Lady Falcons made history and drew together the people of their community and others and took them on one memorable journey.  

Remember The Ride, written from Coach Gentrup's perspective, offers fans and newcomers alike a chance to glimpse the story anew and get some inside perspective into what it took to make high school girls basketball history.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Challenge Story #2: Land Of Broken Dreams

Here it is. The second story in my challenge, Land Of Broken Dreams.  I hope you will take the opportunity to read it while I have it here totally free. Each week I will have a different story available on my website until the next one is ready to put up. Thereafter, the previous story will only be here as an except. You can read the entire stories on Kindle, Nook, iPad, or most e-readers. 





LAND OF BROKEN DREAMS

Shaun Kilgore

Copyright © 2012 by Shaun Kilgore

Published by Founders House Publishing

April 20th, 2017, 5:12 a.m.
Urbana, Illinois.

I couldn’t sleep. After three hours of tossing and turning, I sat up in bed, reached for the remote control in the dark, and let the glow of the television fill the room. I flipped through the channels for a while until I came to CNN. It was more of the same looped footage that showed throughout the day on the twenty-four hour news network. More of the same: President Richards making assurances that the last of the U.S. troops would be leaving Islamabad by September, a resurgence of riots across random sectors of Jerusalem and a deadly series of coordinated car bomb attacks across the Gaza Strip, and German scientists unveiling new genetic research that may have found a cure for HIV.

Just as I was about to turn the box off, a special news report filled the screen. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. For past few years, tensions surrounding the border and immigration disputes with Mexico had been escalating more and more. Demonstrations were becoming regular across the western states, with southern California being the media center for the outpouring of radical Hispanic sentiments. Now, sitting in my bed, I watched Del Rio, Texas burning. A radical group calling themselves the MexAmerican Army had claimed responsibility for the devastation but no arrests had been made. Further bulletins started pouring in, breaking through even the newscaster’s practiced composure. Within a matter of minutes, the horrible scene was repeated in El Paso, Laredo, and Brownsville, though on different scales of destruction.

I got dressed but remained transfixed by the almost frantic news reports that were coming in. Explosions rocked El Paso—the source of the blasts still uncertain.

By 8:00 a.m., the broadcasts were merely replays of earlier recorded events. Camera crews from all of the major networks were vying for the space to cover the destruction of over half of Laredo, Texas. Thousands were reported dead in the fire and explosions.

I had to get away from the box now. My growling stomach gave me a reason. In the kitchen, I filled a bowl with Cheerios and ate in numb silence. I was nervous and apprehensive. It was same way I felt during 9/11. America had been attacked. But who was the MexAmerican Army?

Friday, January 6, 2012

Great Article By Kristine Kathryn Rusch

I really wanted to pass this article on to anyone who might be following me here. It is the latest installment of the Business Rusch, entitled "Writers Will Work For Cheap." The Business Rusch is a weekly business blog focused on the publishing industry and written by bestselling writer Kristine Kathryn Rusch. It comes out every Thursday and I never miss a post.

If you want to learn more about all of the changes going on in publishing and get comments from a long term pro writer who also won awards as an editor and owned a small publishing company, then you need to check out it out: 


Extras:

You should also check out Dean Wesley Smith's website. He's be a pro writer for over thirty years, worked as an editor, and publisher. Check out his New World Of Publishing, Think Like A Publisher, and Killing the Sacred Cows of Publishing series.


Sunday, January 1, 2012

Challenge Story #1: The Swordsman Of Calabray

Below, you will find the first story I put together for the challenge. I wanted to update everybody on the plan for subsequent stories. Every new story will be posted here for a week totally free. Following that it will be available as an excerpt only. If you want to read the whole story you can purchase it on Kindle, Smashwords, and the Nook.




THE SWORDSMEN OF CALABRAY

SHAUN KILGORE

Copyright © 2012 by Shaun Kilgore

Published by Founders House Publishing



THE CLASH OF STEEL ON STEEL rang out across the weathered courtyard, drawing a small crowd of servants and hired workers. The two men were moving about the open space, dancing and shuffling about while parrying and thrusting swords in furious motions. The crowd looked on in rapt silence, hardly another sound disturbed the court but the rhythmic clatter of the blades and the grunts and cries of the men engaged in swordplay. The steel glinted in the midmorning sun, shimmering with sparkling patterns that dazzled the eyes.

One swordsman struck hard and fast, crashing bodily into the other drawing the blades together, entwining them, and pulling closer to his opponent. Heaving and sweating, the men are now face to face, only inches apart.

"Do you yield, Donataldo?" asked the one swordsman, his crimson jacket undone in the front, his blonde hair darkened and sticking to his forehead. Those sparking blue eyes of his held no shortage of amusement.

"I would ask the same of you, Kenroy."

"Ha! On that point you would be sorely mistaken!" Kenroy shoved Donataldo away from him, swiping at him in the process.

Donataldo cursed and barely managed to dance back as the sword's razor edge ripped through the air instead of his gut. He returned the gesture with a swipe of his own, though it was more for show than anything else. It gave him time to regroup and ready another offense. He wove back and forth across the cobblestones of the square, striking Kenroy's blade with practiced motions, a pattern of lethal maneuvers that quickly had the man on the defensive, backing away while he tried to regain his footing. Donataldo pressed harder, landing stronger blows, then dancing back to allow Kenroy at least one strike before he launched another series of heavy-handed blows.

Neither man noticed the new arrival, but servants and day laborers alike drifted back to other occupations while a blue-cloaked man and the small complement of soldiers watched them fight.