help Martuk … the Film

Tomorrow. Sunday, the 24th of August. Mark the date. Tie a piece of string around your finger. Set your smartphone alarms. Do whatever you can to remember that date.

Why?

Because that’s when you’re buying my latest book Martuk … the Holy: Proseuche

Here’s the deal: I have a Studio circling the Martuk books, certain they’d transfer fantastically from book to film and, quite possibly, become a very successful tentpole franchise (i.e., a “tentpole” being a somewhat predictable summer moneymaker for the Studio). We’re talking marketing across different platforms: graphic novels, a possible TV series like Game of Thrones, and, of course, the films.

Problem is they need to see if there’s a market for what I do. If there’s an interest.

Now, before you say, Well, wouldn’t they look back at ALL the sales history to get a more accurate idea?, just let ME say that that’s what I thought, too. But I was wrong, or so I learned.

Listen, Studio Execs have enough on their plates without following my sales. They’ll look at THEIR calendars, see the conference call with that Martuk the Holy guy in, like, five minutes or something, and, out of curiosity more than anything, go over and see where the latest book is sitting in the rankings. That’s it.

Their focus is on story, character, who they can cast, who the potential audience is, etc and so on. Who I am and my sales are pretty far down on their list. Because they expect to build buzz around the book. A buzz they’ll orchestrate and control with their own goals and marketing in mind. So it doesn’t need to be a runaway bestseller to compete. It just needs to come to the table with some kind of respectable ranking the morning of our phone call.

And if the author can show he or she’s able to mobilize their social media strength into attention, support, interest and, perhaps, future ticket sales? Even better.

That’s where you come in –

On Sunday, August 24th, buy Proseuche. Head over to Amazon or B&N or what-have-you and One Click that puppy.

Please.

If I can go into this call on Monday the 25th armed with proof that there is, and could continue to be, interest, I could actually lock this deal down.

So, schedule your reminders, set your alarms, and tie those strings around your fingers. Sunday, August 24th.

Gaughran on Amazon v. Hachette

Still confused about the continuing kerfuffle ‘tween Amazon and Hachette? Even after I put in my own two cents? REALLY?

Okay, then this briefest of excerpts from an interview by author JJ Marsh with the always interesting David Gaughran might help:

Hachette can’t come right out and say they want higher book prices (which is the result if they prevail in negotiations and take back control of pricing and/or Amazon’s ability to to discount) so instead we get a narrative of a rapacious corporation versus a plucky guardian of our literary heritage. Authors should adopt a little more skepticism towards what is a concerted PR campaign from a series of vested interest.

 

It really is worth it to click on over to read the rest of his intelligent, well-informed take on what’s really happening and what’s truly at stake for writers like you and me.

 

Hangin’ with Hugh

In case you missed it, here’s an excerpt from a Guest Post I had the pleasure of publishing over on Hugh Howey’s site recently while celebrating Proseuche’s release.

 

Amazon opened the doors. Instead of hoops, Amazon offered opportunity. Seeing an industry denying undiscovered talent their chance to be heard, Amazon stepped to the plate.

Single mothers in the Midwest found their romance novels becoming bestsellers. Goth kids dressed in black discovered they’re not alone, their zombie books collecting earnest raves from their peers. Retirees who’d put their dreams of Writing on hold so they could pay the bills and raise a family reinvented themselves as novelists with a lifetime of stories to tell.

Head on over. It’s worth the read. :)

It’s alive … IT’S ALIVE!!!!!

Well, it’s happened. The day I sometimes worried would never come is finally here. The release of the book a recent review called “amazing … breathtaking … creepy”.

Of course I’m talking about Martuk … the Holy: Proseuche, the sequel to Martuk … the Holy.

Got a nook? It’s here. Need it in every format under the sun? Try here.

And just for fun, here’s the cover again:

Proseuche_Cover-FINAL

 

The Wounded King – FREE

Yep, you read that right.  The Wounded King, Book One in The Martuk Series, an ongoing collection of Short Fiction based on my award-winning debut novel Martuk … the Holy, will be FREE for one day and one day only, March 27th.

Curious?  Here’s an excerpt:

 

“I eat,” Mother suddenly said.

“The flesh –”

She interrupted me with a nod.

“It’s hungry,” she said, her voice low, the words almost a whisper. “Its stomach desperate for the meat, the muscle, the skin. If I don’t feed It, there’s pain.”

Her hand on her stomach, she continued.

“I am powerless, my son. I don’t want to. I don’t want this. It’s disgusting, it sickens me, it’s something I cannot stop, and it’s destroyed me. The taste, the feel of it in my mouth, the smell on my hands, my fingers –”

She stopped, this brief moment of lucidity gone as quickly as it began.

Closing her eyes, she cocked her head, distracted by something only she could hear. The morning had grown dark, the sun shadowed by a rare cloud.

I looked up to see a clear blue sky.

The shadows grew.

“A God is being born,” she finally said. “The pain, the anguish I endure, is this body dying so that this God, this Dark God, can be born. And I, as that God, will rule.”

The dark grew darker.

I moved closer to her.

“Mother …” I began, “the shadows, they’re moving.”

“Yes, It moves and It is only one shadow.”

It quickened, the dark, as it slid along the ground, vaporous fingers reaching out to my Mother as she spoke.

“It needed the flesh, you see. An eternity caressing all those bodies as they slept, lifetimes licking the skin, the flesh on its tongue only a taste, ephemeral, quickly gone.

“It needed to eat. Finally. Needed more. It needed to feel the life in Its mouth. It needed to tear the skin and rip the muscle and gnaw the bone. Experience being alive, experience living, all those deaths feeding It.

“And now It will live through me, with me, as me.”

The shadow grew, an immense cloud around us, the dust lifting from the ground to churn in the black, the warmth of day now the moist, steamy heat of something uncontrollable, unknowable, and wrong.

“Mother, It will eat you.”

She no longer heard me, the silent song of these shadows obsessing her.

I grabbed her hand.

“Please …” I began as the Darkness lifted me.