Launching Art of the Kill

Thirty years ago, I was up in the Grand Tetons when I resolved to become a full-time writer. Jackson Hole, Wyoming. At a leadership retreat. A quarter of a century ago. But it’s like I was on a train track that was going to the wrong place, and I couldn’t figure out how to jump the tracks to get on the right ones. I kind of crashed and made a mess of things, but I finally did it. Wasn’t the first time I’d crashed, figuratively or literally.

This is my seventh self-published novel. I believe it’s my best. How many novels have I written? More than that. And how many stories? Countless. That includes the story I labored over for hours and weeks and months after long working days as an accountant. Finally finished, I bundled the pages into my motorcycle bag and drove them home to my then-wife. However, I forgot to fasten the buckle on my saddlebag, and the papers blew all over I-5 in Portland. That was probably for the best.

Since that disaster, I’ve sent thousands of inquiries to agents, written and rewritten four or five books, taken courses and taught classes on writing. One thing I’ve never done is give up.

Of course, in the quiet evenings I’m having doubts about the novel. If 115 agents passed on it, am I crazy to self-publish? Guess there’s only one way to find out. Early readers are raving about it, but we did have one survivor of childhood trauma who decided it was too triggering.

I want my book to go out in the world and be successful, like our kids.

I’ve done everything I can. Wrote a great book. Rewrote, revised, rearranged, cut mercilessly to get it from 120,000 words to a more industry-palatable 90,000, and then put stuff back in and expanded it back up to 100,000 words because fuck it—I’ll tell the story in as few or as many words and pages as it takes. Followed our marketing plan. Paid for an awesome cover.

Today is Artemisia Vane’s birthday. Like the rest of our kids, we have given her all the developmental support, love, and discipline we had. And like the rest of our kids, she’s ready to stand on her own two feet while we watch her fly, hoping the rest of the world loves her as much as we do.