Merry Christmas America (Are We Dead Yet?)

A few years back, Xmas in Rome.

 

Yes, I'm writing on Christmas morning, but that's not my choice, it's sort of my duty. A long time ago when I was studying and writing at The Breadloaf Writer's Conference, the novelist Tim O'Brien kindly took me under his wing, personally critiqued a short story of mine which was then called Portrait, and which later became the novel, When Shadows Come (a novel that was orphaned prior to its release from Thomas & Mercer when the editor jumped ship--something that happens a lot over there. But as usual, I digress). 

In the middle of going over the story, sometimes line by line, he with red pencil in hand and trademark Boston Red Sox baseball cap on his head, lit cigarette between his lips, suddenly asked, "Hey you don't happen to have any coke on you?" 

I was sorely disappointed I didn't. 

In any case, when we were through he said...and I'll never forget it..."One day, you're going to be more famous than you are now. You will have fans, and they will expect a lot out of you. They will, in some cases, become more needy than your wives (yes, he used the plural), and you will need to put out for them. That means you will be writing on your birthday, when you are sick with the flu, when you are happy, and when you are depressed. You will be writing ON CHRISTMAS DAY, whether you like it or not." 

So there you have it, readers. It's Christmas and I will spend my day or most of it anyway, working on novel edits. But let me say, Merry Christmas to you all. Some might find that offensive but I'm not woke, and shall forever remain asleep, metaphorically speaking, I guess. 2020 is about to come to an end and let's hope the door slaps it on the ass on the way out. 

I still recall standing inside a bar in Lake Placid last New Years Eve as a blizzard was blowing outside. I had a pool cue in hand, and was watching the wall mounted TV while my GF was beating me at pool. The report about a virus outbreak in China sent a chill down my spine. At that point it was still a small story in the grand scheme of things, but I recall saying half under my breath to said GF, "This is going to be bad. This is going to be very, very bad." And bad it became. 

I'm not fond of the Grateful Dead, and in fact, I hate their music (I prefer old punk rock), but I'm reminded of their song that goes What a Long Strange Trip it's Been. It's raining outside my window. I had planned on skiing today (sorry Tim), but the grass outside my writing studio looks like a putting green. There's hardly any planes in the air and many fewer cars on the road. Carbon emissions are way down. Why isn't it snowing AOC? But again, I digress. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, it doesn't feel like Christmas. In fact, the whole year doesn't feel like we've progressed, but if anything, regressed into this population of fenced in individuals who are slowly going insane with boredom, loneliness, financial ruin, and despair (BTW, my profound thanks to the US government for pulling through with stimulus for normal everyday folks who will visit the food lines today instead of enjoying a nice Xmas dinner. The US government is broken and you only have yourself to blame...You know precisely who you are. Enjoy your ice cream, Nancy. And Mitch, I hope you're sipping only the best Kentucky bourbon today with a big fat cigar stuffed in your mouth. You both should be drawn and quartered in public...once more, I digress). 

But it almost feels like we've actually succumbed to the disease and simply don't know it yet. Like a person who's suddenly dropped dead and sort of hangs around for a while as a ghost. Or maybe we're all in purgatory. Who knows? But then, election fraud was real, not that anybody cares. The rent is still due, and the price of chicken has doubled if not tripled in just just a few months. These things are reality. 

So than, I can bitch and moan all I want, but on the other hand, I am thankful for my health, my relative youth, my publishers (Yet another notable outfit approached me the other day and said they would love a Zandri novel in their catalogue, God bless them...I remember when I couldn't find a publisher to save my life. Now they come to me in some cases), my family, my kids, my mom, my life (which is blessed in every sense of the word), my God, my travels, my country (as busted up as it is), and what lies in store for the future. It's got to be better than this. My hopes are that very, very soon, all us dead folk will be resurrected. 

Today, you can get my brand new release, CHASE BAKER AND THE ARK OF GOD for special intro price. You can also get my brand new big 4.8 star thriller, THE GIRL WHO WASN'T THERE there also for a special holiday price. Last but never least, THE EMBALMER, the pilot novel in the Steve Jobs PI series is just 0.99 since it's a Bargain Booksy promo for 24 hours. 

It's Christmas morning so no doubt you'll want to fill up that new Kindle eReader you just unwrapped. 

A very Merry Xmas to you all, and a Happy and prosperous New Year. 

WWW.VINZANDRI.COM

 

  

   

Year end review and what a hell of a year it was...

Coming April 2019...

It seems as though lots of full-time authors feel compelled to write up an end of the year summary about how things transpired over the course of the past 12 months and where things are likely to go in the coming months, and I'm no different. But seeing as I can't exactly speak for any other authors, I can only speak for myself. 2018 was a year of renewed bachelorhood and I used the extra time on my hands to fulfill my promise of publishing at least one book, be it short read, novella, or full-length novel per month. This doesn't include the book or books I did with traditional houses. Combine maybe a couple dozen short articles and at least one blog per week for the Vox and it's no wonder I've been feeling a persistent tingling in my fingertips.

I also traveled more than 40,000 miles to six or seven different countries, spending in total, three-plus months on the road. Having just arrived home two weeks ago I've had at least a half dozen people ask me, "So where you off to next?" I usually respond with something witty (Not!) like, "I have no clue." Because I truly don't. I guess I could say the same about my writing. Sometimes I never know what I'm about to write. I just do it.

So the indie marketplace got a little tougher this year. I had a better year than the year before, but with Amazon's new Pay to Play Amazon Ads marketplace, things have become a little more difficult. That is, unless you're pouring money into ads, your books are likely not to be seen by hungry readers. I'm not going into major detail on this stuff, because other authors are better at it than I am. Bestselling author Russell Blake just write a terrific piece on the subject of Pay-to-Play. You can get it here. It's enlightening if not a tad depressing. But like they say, it is what it is.

While I use Amazon ads on a daily basis along with watching my ad spends like an over concerned parent keeps an eye on her kids in the park, I rely more on promo services for sales boosts. But creating ads and running promos takes a lot of time (and casheshe). Like Mr. Blake points out in his piece, I got into this thing to be a full-time writer, not an advertiser. Also, unlike some authors who are literally bringing in tens of thousands of dollars per month utilizing Amazon, FB, BookBub, and other ad platforms, I just don't have the skill set for the job. I don't think analytically (which probably explains why I was such a disaster as a construction project manager). I envy these talented indie and hybrid authors and all the power to them. They are killing it and making themselves millionaires in the process.

Coming this Winter...

What this means is, again like Russell, I must sub out my promo and advertising needs. I can suggest my guy to you if you like. Just email me at Vazandri@aol.com and I'll hook you up. He takes care of everything from SEO, to setting up BookBub-like promos, to keeping up with your KU free days, etc. In other words, he does everything I would love to do if only I had the skills and the time. But I'm a writer and that's what I'm good at (he said, humbly).

Even though the market always seems like it's getting tougher and tougher to compete in, I still say it comes down to consistent and steady output (I mean, what else are you going to do with you day?). Even if you don't advertise, a steady stream of titles can't be ignored by the Amazon algos nor the B&N algos, nor Google Books, etc. At the same time, keep on building your tribe of followers and fans. Eventually you will reach a point where you're selling enough to create a full-time semi-passive income (I say semi-passive because books always need tweaking here and there after they're done. Product descriptions can be improved upon, keywords need updating along with SEO, etc.).

Creatively 2018 was a year of experimentation. I delved into several genres I never would have touched in years prior, including YA and it's polar opposite, Erotic Noir. I also started a new "short read" pulp fiction series. Whether these efforts were successful or not remains to be seen, but they were fun books to write and at the very least, I know I am capable of creating something beyond the mystery and thriller genre.

So then, as for 2019? This will be more of a traditional year in that I am back to writing big thrillers and in particular, a thriller with a female protagonist, not unlike that of The Remains and The Ashes. The first book is called Primary Termination and it is the pilot in a three book trilogy that takes place in the near future. Part cyber punk, part apocalyptic, part romance, this thriller will receive a major launch in June. But before that, we will see a new Jack Marnoni PI novel, a new Dick Moonlight PI novel, a full-length Young Chase Baker novel, and in April, my big book, The Caretakers Wife will be published in hardcover by Polis Books.

I'll also be collaborating on at least two books this year. More on that later.

I wish I could predict what the marketplace will be like, but I suspect that more and more thriller authors will go indie and/or like me, hybrid. It seems as though the major houses have not a clue about what can sell and what can't. Even after moving just under a million books since 2010, I still get books rejected and some of these go on to win major awards and sell quite well independently. Like I said, the pubs have absolutely no clue. Zero. Nada. And now, with some editors also rejecting manuscripts deemed not PC enough or too right leaning to be published, we're going to see a significant defection from the majors. You just wait and see.

So then, this is way too long for a blog post, but I thought you deserved a full update. Have a wonderful Christmas and Happy Holidays to all. For me, it's back to the writing.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM



  

And now a message from our sponsors...

...of course, I'm the sponsor and the messenger and the writer. But I thought I'd try out a new promo idea today. I haven't done a reading in a while and since I don't have any scheduled in the near future, I thought I'd bring the reading to you. Now in full disclosure I've done better readings, probably because I was half on the bag when I did them, which explains a lot. But this one I take cold sober and it's less than perfect. But you get the idea and it's only fair I present it to you warts and all, because that's what makes it so interesting.

So without further ado (what the hell is ado?)

Now, grab Chase Baker and the Spear of Destiny and be thrilled!

In the UK: Chase Baker and the Spear of Destiny.


 

The Rise of the Machines

I'm a little disturbed right now because I just witnessed something at the grocery store that took me aback. Rather, it was more like a swift punch to the gut. Shoppers were waiting in line to use the automatic robotic cashier machines while right beside them, stood a human cashier just twiddling her thumbs.

Now I have to admit, I had every intention of using the robots as well. But when I saw the young woman, or girl, standing there gazing at her newly polished fingernails, I made my way over to her, set my groceries on the belt and thus began my transaction the old fashioned way.

"It's a terrible thing for humanity when people choose the robots over the humans," I said.
But she just looked at me like I'm one of those middle-aged dudes who still smokes pot.

But it got me thinking. The rise of the machines is really upon us. I just had a book released in hardcover (The Corruptions), but I spend most of my marketing time setting up promos for the eBook or electronic versions of my books. I sell far more eBooks than paper and I sell them all over the world right from the laptop set up in my home office. Home, being where ever I choose to be at any given time.

Publishers now consult computer algorithms when deciding to take on a book or not. The computer can't be wrong, can it? New artificial intelligence programs are being developed that not only help us write faster, but help us plot our books. Soon, they will be relied upon to write them. You just wait and see.

I heard recently that a law is being enacted in the UK granting a specific set of rights to AI. Can you imagine your digitally enhanced toaster possessing the ability to sue you if you mistreat it?

The machines are taking over. God save humanity.  Think I'll go back to using my typewriter.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM



    

A Writing Life

Recently I was able to catch bestselling author Wayne Stinnett's videos on the writing life and goal setting. They are quite good. That said, I thought I would imprint my own brand on the topic. It's totally unscripted, and I try holding back the laughter at some points. Imagine the absurdity of it all. Me standing in the middle of a trout stream making a video. But here you go.

 WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

Writers Take Control ... And That's a Good Thing

Speaking my independent mind on Bloomberg TV

The publishing wars seem to be gathering more media attention these days than Israel's current war with the terrorist organization Hamas. More specifically, the ongoing tug of war between Amazon Publishing and Hachette. You can browse the web and find dozens of articles written about the situation that are chuck full graphs, numbers, charts, and more mathematical and statistical equations than I was besieged with in high school (I was never more than C+ math student).

The simplest way to understand what's happening is this: Amazon Publishing wishes to offer great books to all readers for far cheaper than more traditional publishing companies like Hachette are willing to offer. At the same time, AP wishes to pay their writers a bigger profit than the old traditional New York houses (what's left of them) are willing to dole out. Hachette has big rents to pay in the Big Apple and more than enough mouths to feed. So they need to keep prices high while keeping author's wages as low as possible. Unless you're James Patterson of course. But then, Mr. Patterson doesn't write is his own books anymore, which means he's gone from writer to sort of corporate cog in a giant machine filled with many cogs and wheels that must constantly be greased and oiled by guess whom, the consumer.

I entered this business as a writer and I intend to stay a writer until the bitter end. When I have a publisher who is willing not only to aggressively market me but also tell me things like, 'Vince, we just want you to write,' and who, at the same time cuts me (and my agent) monthly royalty checks, well then, I need look no further. However, I don't take sides in the Amazon/Hachette situation because it doesn't really involve me directly as a writer. I don't want to see any one publisher gain a monopoly share of the market any more than I want to see authors (and readers) continue to be subject to an antiquated publishing system that not only steals control from the writer, but also places him at the bottom of the totem pole. Authors and readers deserve a healthy and competitive publishing market in which many publishers compete for the privilege of publishing a great writer. Taking sides will only work against that and continue to fuel the war. 

In a word, I'd like to see what's left of the big new York Publishing system wake up to the reality of the new publishing paradigm which includes e-Books as the dominant method by which we will all be reading books in the near future. Paper won't disappear, it will always share the podium with e-Books. But just take a look around you. The digital format is here to stay, and it is an inexpensive way to get great books to readers for low costs while at the same time, allowing authors to make more money. In the end, it's not AP that's putting the big publishers out of business. What's putting big publishers out of business are the big publishers and their inability to adapt.

But I'll say it again. I'm not going to take sides. I run as an independent politically, religiously, and I run as an independent as a writer. Hell, I even consider myself independent from those who writers who publish "independently." The recent New York Times piece that featured me got one thing wrong. I don't just publish with AP. I maintain a healthy mix of publishers that includes not only AP, but also Down & Out Books, Meme Publishers in Italy and France, and more. I've also started my own imprint, Bear Media. In the old days, I had one publisher, Delacorte Press. And when a corporate consolidation caused my mid-six figure contract to suddenly take a nose dive, I found myself without a job or a future. Sure they honored the contract by paying me all my money and publishing my books, but they did so with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man shuffling to the gas chamber. I vowed never to allow that to happen to me again. Never again would I or my family be crushed by a big publishing corporate mandate. Trust me when I say no one up in their big corporate offices were crying for me, and I'm not crying for them now.  

This is a good time to be a writer. For the first time in decades, we have control over what we do and how we want to do it. We're no longer slaves. We're no longer forced to live from advance to advance. No longer at risk of being terminated during a corporate consolidation, no longer forced to kiss up to marketing departments that really have no interest in promoting our books. This alone, frightens the traditional houses more than anything else. Writers taking control of their careers. Because what happens then? Writers no longer need the traditional houses in order to get their books out there to a public who wish to devour more and more novels for reasonable prices. Amazon Publishing is dedicated to giving both the people what they want and their authors what they need. It's a the free market system working at its best and thank God for it.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

  

Spiders, Elephants, and Rhinos in Chitwan National Game Park

(Author's Note: I'm writing this stuff on the run. Please excuse all screws ups of a grammatical nature)

If you find yourself in Nepal’s Chitwan National Park, please be warned that where you decide to sit just might be dangerous to your health. I’m not much of a sitter, so I prefer to stand, which is exactly what I was doing in the back bed of our green 4X4 pickup as we were cruising a bumpy two-track through a section of tall elephant grass when my guide, Pardeep, an Indian of about 40, sternly spoke these words: “Vin, don’t move!”

I turned to stone, both my hands gripping the iron bar that runs horizontally across the length of the metal cab roof. A second later I felt the push of two fingers against the center of my spine and something being pulls away from it. The sensation was the same as if he’d pulled a briar off my gray T-shirt.

“Spider,” he said. “Big one too.” As if I needed to hear that.

I turned as the eco-conscious Pardeep, didn’t drop the spider and crush it with his rubber sandaled sole, but instead, tossed it over the truck’s side, so that it might scare the living crap out of the next safari customer it decides to latch onto. Okay, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic, but anyone who knows me well, also knows I don’t like spiders. So then, why come to Chitwan, the 900+ square kilometer game park located at the base of the Himalayas if I don’t like spiders? That’s like someone who pays for a fishing charter when fish scare him to death.

I’m here because of the big game that is still plentiful in these rugged and spectacularly green and lush surroundings. It’s June. Monsoon season. So it’s both hot and damp, with daytime giving way to plus 100-degree temps and the night sky opening up with storms so violent, even the wild elephants can be heard crying from miles away.

We made our way into the game park from our base lodge via canoe on the Rapidi river. The somewhat narrow and winding waterway, which eventually connects with the Ganges across the border in India, is teaming with bird life. Pardeep in particular is extremely knowledgeable about the birds (he’s also a world class wrestler), and his eyesight is so perfect, he can spot a rare bird from a couple hundred yards away, even when its concealed by the thick bush. The tall, thin, balding guide knows everything there is to know about every species of bird in the forest. That is, wing span, place of origin (many species originate in China across the mountain range), mating rituals, and of course, their calls. He raises up his arms, forms a horn with his two hands, and calls out to a Macaw. “Caw, caw, caw…” He then waits in silence until, sure enough, the macaw answers him. The smile on Pardeep’s face screams of success, satisfaction, and a true blood level love of the job.

But it isn’t until we come upon a family of Rhino’s bathing themselves in the river, that my heart begins to tremble. These dinosaur-like creatures weigh five ton a piece, and the spiked horn they don on their long, gray, bone-plated heads, is one of nature’s most perfect defense mechanisms.  I’m told that just a couple of years ago a guide was run down by an angry rhino and paid the ultimate price when the beast crushed him to death. Which is precisely the reason we don’t come too close to the family of rhinos bathing themselves in the river.

Rhinos protect their young at all costs. If we come too close in our flimsy wood canoe, the adult male will likely come after us, flip us, and do his best to kill us. And who can blame him? Nepal’s rhino population, like Africa’s, is under serious attack from poachers looking to kill the animals for their sharp tip, which they then smuggle to the Chinese who grind the bone down into a fine powder that sells for big bucks to middle age ChiCom businessmen who have trouble getting it up.

Fast forward four hours and we’ve left the river and are now motoring inside the game park in the back of the 4X4. We’re still moving through the tall grass and my entire body is still itching just thinking about the spider nearly dug its fangs into my spine. But all is forgotten when we spot a team of elephants that are driven by two young men. Boys really. Both elephants are large, one with both her ivory tusks intact, and the other with only one while its mate has somehow been broken off as evidence by the jagged root that barely sticks out of the jaw.

The driver stops the truck. I climb out of the back and immediately begin snapping pictures of the lead, double-tusked elephant as it makes its way towards us on the road.  I realize I’m taking a chance here because I’m using a flash and elephants don’t like a camera flash exploding in their face any more than your average human being does. But the huge animal takes it all in stride as his driver brings him to a lumbering stop only a few feet away. So close to me, in fact, I can reach out and touch him.

The boy driver is impossibly thin, barefooted, his feet positioned behind the elephant’s ears. He wears filthy jeans and an even dirtier button down shirt which he prefers to wear unbuttoned. His hair is thick and dark, as are his eyes. There’s an umbrella stuffed into the elephant’s neck bridle, which is made up of both thick rope and heavy chain. Gripped in the boy’s left hand is a tomahawk constructed of a metal axe head and a wooden handle. It looks identical to the kind of weapon a Native American would use for protection in America’s Badlands prior to the twentieth century.

I look up at the boy.

“Can I touch the elephant?” I say.

He stares not at me, but into me.

“Give me some water,” he says.

I unlatch my water bottle from my belt, toss it up to him. He snatches the bottle out of the air in a swift one-handed grab, unscrews the top, pours a generous drink into his mouth. Screwing the top back on, he tosses the bottle back to me.

“You may pet the ear,” he says.

With a somewhat trembling hand, I reach out and touch the ear of the elephant. Its skin is incredibly smooth. Like snake skin almost. It’s warm and alive. I can see why the boy likes to stuff his bare feet behind the ears. Not only is he able to steer the creature, but the skin feels extraordinarily pleasant against human skin.

I remove my hand and I thank the boy.

“Bye bye,” he says, giving the elephant a couple of well-placed heel kicks while making a clicking sound by manipulating his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Pulling out his umbrella, the boy opens it wide and holds it above his head to shield himself from the relentless sun. The elephant raises up its trunk, blows a combination mud and snot through it, and then heaves itself forward, like an old fashioned locomotive trying to pull away from a station with dozens of overloaded cars attached to its backside.

Moments later, I meet up with Pardeep back at the truck.

“You must be careful when touching the elephants in the wild,” he smiles. “They are easily frightened. They could hurt you very badly.”

I still feel the majestic animal’s smooth skin. I still see the gentleness in is deep black eyes. I could never imagine the creature hurting anything. It’s a mammoth wild animal that bears long sharp tusks. That’s not the elephant’s fault. But scaring it would be mine.

I climb back up into the back of the 4X4 pickup and we continue on further into the wild. From now on, I’m going to make sure I keep my distance from the spiders.

PULP! The Boxed Set!

Boxed sets that contain a few novels and hundreds of thousands of words seem to be all the rage these days. So I decided to jump into the deep end and put out my first boxed collection of Two Novels and a Novella that will Keep You on the Edge of Your Seat. At least, that's supposed to be the point of PULP!

The collection contains:

1. Moonlight Sonata (A Dick Moonlight PI Thriller)
2. The Shroud Key (A Chase Baker Thriller)
3. Full Moonlight (A Dick Moonlight PI Novella)

So without further verbal bloodletting, here's where you can get yours for your Kindle: Pulp!

I'm pricing it at .99 for a limited time so I hope you take advantage. And don't forget to Join Up with the Vincent Zandri "For Your Eyes Only" Newsletter at WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM



 

Pam Stack's "Author's on the Air" Interview with Vincent Zandri

The lovely Pam Stack

Thought I'd give you something different from the Vox for a change. Just this past Saturday I had the distinct pleasure of being the guest of Miami's Pam Stack. Via her popular Blog Talk Radio program, Authors on the Air, she has interviewed some of the hottest and most popular thriller writers at work today, including Dave Zeltserman, Meg Gardiner, David Morrell, and many more. I can't tell you how honored I am to enter into the ranks of these great writers. Before you listen, it might interest you to know that BlogTalk Radio ranked my show #4 out of 30,000 other programs being aired that day. A number which astounds me and really pleased Pam. I can tell you this, it's rare that I listen to the podcast of an interview once it's in the can. But Pam Stack's questions and delivery were so professional and knowledgeable, that she really made me work for my answers. In the end, I think we both did a pretty good job. And I was pleased to give it a very good listen. 

With that, I give you....

AUTHORS ON THE AIR: VINCENT ZANDRI

                                                  WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

Party's Over! Don't Let the Door Slap You in Ass on the Way Out...

"Party's over..."

Just arrived back from Thrillerfest in NYC.

As always it's...well...a thrill to hang out with my publishers and drink and eat and gossip and pat one another on the back. It's even greater to see some of the very talented and successful authors who through the years have become real friends. It's even fun to be in the presence of some authors who are not my friends but whom I'm a fan of. Big names like Michael Connelly, Anne Rice, Joseph Finder and more. It's also strange when you find yourself signing copies of your newest novel at table just two or three down from Lee Child.

"Hey Lee, how's about Tom Cruise as Jack Reacher? Not sure Mr. Smiley was the right choice. Let's grab a beer and talk about it later."


Until fairly recently I've always avoided conferences like the plague.
They're expensive and time consuming, and in terms of sales not much will happen there as a result of downing a few beers with your fellow authors. An author friend of mine refers to conferences as one big "circle jerk." Yah, he's right. If however, you're looking for an agent or a publisher, literary conferences such as ThrillerFest is a good place to be (I did hear of one neophyte writer who pitched an agent and signed up with him on the spot...).

Two years ago, I attended my first Thrillerfest back when I was strictly independent. I walked in like I owned the joint, having just come off the sale of 100,000 editions of The Innocent, another 30 or 40K of Godchild back up by similar numbers with The Remains.

One year ago, I had just signed a 7 book, "very nice" deal with Thomas & Mercer. We were anticipating the first batch of books to be released on October 1, with a couple of books to be released in December 2012. It was an exciting time, because life was all about the anticipation.

This year there was still excitement, but life is more or a work in progress at present. I'm speedily earning out my advance, while finishing some new books, and anticipating which roads to take when publishing them down the line.

This is a rapidly changing industry and who knows what next year will bring. I do however have a strong feeling that the writer who walked through the doors of the Grand Central Hyatt (the home of Thrillerfest) this year, will not be the same writer who walks through them in July 2014. The work in progress year will quickly come to a close this Fall as the new writer emerges from his cocoon and dramatically steps up his game in terms of writing, publishing, and marketing.

After all, being a writer is like being a shark. If you're not always moving forward, you die.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

   

What Will Happen If There Are No More Books?

The Kindle Edition of the great novel...By the time you read this Papa will have sold more than ten copies.

By now you've probably heard about the big advertisement book-idea mogul James Patterson ran in the New York Times last week. I'm not going to tear it apart sentence for sentence because other writers like JA Konrath and JE Fishman have already done a far more intelligent job of it than I can ever hope to. But one sentence in Patterson's curious rant struck home with me. He asks, "What will happen if there are no more books like these..." and then he goes on to list a whole bunch of novels that have, in part, helped shaped the 20th century as we remember it, and in a few cases, the 21st as we are presently living it.

I can only assume that when Patterson says "no more books" he means no more "paper books." Which in itself is kind of ridiculous because in my mind anyway,  a book is a book is a book (Thanks Miss Stein!), whether it's published in paper or on Kindle or Nook or papyrus or on the interior lenses of those new Do-It-All wonder glasses Google is currently perfecting--You know, the eyeglasses that will one day replace the E-Reader.

Okay, so let's, for shits and giggles, pretend that as of today, there are no more paper books. They're all gone, disappeared, library and bookstore shelves emptied of their contents. So let's take this little fantasy a step further and just for the sake of argument, let's say that Papa Hemingway is still alive and kicking at 113 years old (Not an impossible stretch considering today's abundance of centenarians and beyond...). Picture the scene: Papa comes lumbering into his writing room in the Keys (He will by now have moved back to Key West for practical and professional reasons). He's a little drunk from having downed a one too many Papa Doubles at Sloppy Joes after spending most of the day on the Gulf not fishing, but assisting with the new efforts to monitor fish populations in the wake of the 2010 BP Oil Spill.

Already he's getting hungry and smelling the wonderful dish his 7th wife Maria is cooking up in the kitchen. He wants to eat early tonight and get to bed at a decent hour so he can get up at dawn and bite the nail on his new novel which will be released not next year, but within three months of its completion as an e-book. Man, what he wouldn't give to have Max Perkins around right now, editing his work as he produces it. He recalls the days when a writer could get away with putting out one novel every five or ten years. Now he's got to put one out every six months. That's how much the reading public is devouring books these days.

Papa runs his thick hands over his beloved Remington portable, but then switches on his lap top, and waits for it to boot up. When it does he clicks onto the Amazon Sales Rank website like he always does automatically. He does this now not because he's wondering how he's performing for his publishers, but because, in this day in age, he's wondering how his publishers are performing for him. He still works with publishers, both big and small, but five or so years ago, he decided his audience was large enough that he would start his own indie label which would publish Papa books and stories exclusively. Why give the corporate bastards all the money and the rights? was his logic.

He stares at the screen, focuses on The Sun Also Rises, and feels his smile growing under his white bearded, suntanned face."Sun" is selling in the 2,000 range for Paid Kindles in the Amazon store.

"None male," he whispers in Italian to himself. "Not bad."

In fact, he goes down the list of the many novels he's published since his first book, Three Stories and Ten Poems was self-published in Paris in the early 1920s on a genuine old fashioned 19th century era printing press. All the books are ranking in the 2000 or below range, netting him a nice profit not on a semi-annual basis, but a daily basis.

He sits back in his wood and leather Cuban cigar makers chair and reflects on how much things have changed since he first started writing with pencil and paper. How the world has gone from the Carrier Pigeon in the trenches of World War I where he nearly lost his right leg, to smartphones and texts. How he used to spin ceramic disks on his phonograph but these days tunes into his own personalized Pandora digital radio now that the record stores have become more historical fact than his old neurotic buddy Scott Fitzgerald. He remembers crossing the Atlantic with his beloved Hadley on the Normandie but how he recently visited Paris via the business class of an Air France Airbus. He recalls horse drawn wagons delivering milk to his doorstep on the Left Bank and how now he can't bear milk unless it's Lactose free and bears the Whole Foods logo. He certainly recalls the days when the US Army issued cigarettes in the daily ration kits. But he was smart enough to quit that deadly habit a long time ago.

The only thing he truly misses about the past is bookstores like Shakespeare and Company. Now there was a bookstore. But then, he was never much for book signings, and he was never fond of chain bookstores especially when they wouldn't let go of the antiquated 1930s era policy of "returns" on books that didn't move within a few weeks. Then there were the bookstores, many of them independent, high school and university, who wouldn't carry his books at all because they weren't considered "politically correct." Screw 'em, he said then, and Screw 'em, he says now.

He certainly isn't crying for the major publishers who were the first to blame him when his books weren't moving and then the first to praise themselves when they did move. Now, he entertains many forms of publishing and as a result, he's got more control of his work than ever before, and having lived his life as a rugged individualist, he couldn't be happier. Sure he misses paper books, but then he loves his new Kindle Fire. He doesn't have to travel with a trunk load of heavy books anymore, and he even gets to watch The Killers on it, the one movie based on his work which he actually likes.

He gets up from his chair, takes a glance at the book shelf that now contains photos of his family. His many wives, good and bad. His sons, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren and even a great great grandchild. He smiles wryly but proudly and he misses those who have passed before him. The curse of old age. He turns to the window, and from there he can see the sea. The eternal sea. He knows that tomorrow, the sun will also rise upon it and he will bite the nail as he has always done. That is something that never changes and he is as resolute in his calling than ever before.

"Papa!" calls the voice of Maria from below. "Before it gets cold!"

He feels a start in his heart. He knows he'd better get himself to the table before she tosses the meal out the window. But at the same time, he's thinking about a certain young woman he recently met at Sloppy Joes bar. A strawberry blond, with a figure to die for and legs that go all the way up past her shoulders. What did she call herself? A professional blogger? Not a reporter, but a blogger. Oh well, time to commit that new word to memory. For Papa, words have always held a special fascination, no matter where or how they are printed or spoken. But he's made plans with this special new strawberry blond. They are about to visit the border country where Turkey meets Syria in order to write about the civil war going on there. For Papa it will be yet another war and another book, but for the blonde, it will be her first experience in Indian country. It will be a romantic time for them both. Just like it was for he and Marty Gellhorn during the Spanish Civil War. What's old will be new again and all's fair in love and war.

"But how will I break the news to Maria?" he asks himself, feeling the pangs of worry fill his considerable stomach.

Poor old Papa. Some things just never change.

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Gone, Baby, Gone

Remember the record store?

In the wake of Writer's Guild Pres Scott Turow's death of the great American author rant printed this past week in the NY Times, I thought I would take a roll call of those professionals and professional organizations whom I had the pleasure of working with back when I was first published by one of the Big 6 Mega-Houses more than ten years ago now.

--The agent...GONE
--The acquiring editor...GONE
--The acquiring editor's boss (the editor-in-chief so to speak)...GONE
--My marketing manager...GONE
--The office in the Bertlesman building...GONE
--The imprint...GONE
--The independent bookstore where I did my first signing..GONE
--The major chain bookstore where I did my second signing...GONE
--The other major chain bookstore where I did my third signing...GONE
--The other, less popular major chain book/CD/DVDs store where I did my fourth signing...GONE
--The post office from where I used to snail mail my queries and manuscripts...GONE
--The book page in the local newspaper...GONE

...Okay you get the point...I'm sure there are a few people and things I've missed here, but when you look at the evidence in bulleted fashion you begin to understand the ever changing nature of this business and why authors such as Mr. Turow (and he is a great author for certain), who more or less cling to tradition, are a bit glum about the future.

But be it the climate, geography, society, technology, the orbit of the earth around the sun, or simply the recipe of Coca Cola, things change. Existence is not static. It's always moving one way or another. We don't read off of cave walls anymore. We have Kindles for that.  

Some of the people I've worked with, published with, played with, laughed with, gotten gloriously drunk with, even played music with along the way were pretty great, and many have moved on to greener pastures, mostly in other industries. I'm greatful for the opportunities extended to me back then. Only one person I know of remains an editor at a big house. So you see, as writers, we must always be flexible and willing to adapt. Or, in the words of a fellow author, we must find ways to survive.

I'm an American author and I've survived and then some.

I'm still here. Gonna be here for a while longer.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

 

 

E-Books and Libraries: What the Big 6 Doesn't Get

                                           "Wow that Dick Moonlight is really something..."


Maybe JA Konrath read my last post "Libraries Get It" or perhaps it's a coincidence that his newest post is titled, "E-Books in Libraries: They Still Don't Get It."

Whatever the case may be, the libraries actually do get the future and the important impact inexpensive E-Books can make in a lending library all too often frequented by good reading folks who have no choice but to watch every single penny earned. But as usual the Big 6 and the American Association of Publishers (AAP) are fighting progress for a number of reasons, some of which they hide behind legal smoke-screens like "anti-trust suits," etc.

Now I'm not going to pretend I know the in and outs of the publishing industry, both commercial and indie, like Konrath does or have my finger on the pulse of the American library system such as it is. But after reading Joe's post, I'm gathering that what it all comes down to is this: The Big 6 just don't want libraries competing with their already dwindling returns.

In any case, click on Konrath's link and you can get the story, which is actually a guest blog. It's written by an individual in the know: a librarian and a "published author," who shall go unnamed, and who works in the South Carolina library system. 

His life is books, and passion drips from his fingertips....

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

Google's "Glasses" Will Change the World Forever

"Google has its eye on the future..."

Wondering how we'll be reading and even writing our books in the very near future? Hint: you won't need a hand-held device nor will you require a laptop...Just don't forget your glasses....

Google's "Project Glass" has already developed the prototype to the world's first pair of eyeglasses that delivers and transposes real-time information before your eyes. Its applications are mind-boggling, especially for readers and writers.

Feel like reading a book on the train without having to utilize that cumbersome, and now very old fashioned E-Reader? Just put on your glasses

Want to write another chapter of you new novel, but don't feel like sitting inside a cramped writing studio? Head on outside and transcribe the action to your new glasses while you walk.

Sportsmen and women looking to land that big trout can put on their glasses and get real time data on precisely where it's hiding and what kind of fly it wants to eat.

Travelers won't need to juggle a smart phone when trying to find their way around a foreign city or for that matter, a busy airport.

Speaking of airports: Just put on your glasses and your identification, profile, boarding passes, and seat assignment will all be taken care of...And once that's done, you can phone the wife and kids at the same time while using both hands to eat your lunch.

I can see the future...The many gadgets we now plug into our electrical wall sockets on a daily basis...the Nook or Kindle, the Smart Phone, the I-Pad, the Laptop...it's all going bye-bye in the blink of an eye, now that Project Glass has its eye on a new world with 20/20 super vision.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

Your Worst Nightmare

What's your worst nightmare?
Is it being all alone, hopelessly lost in a dark and cold place?
Maybe it's snakes crawling all over you?
Maybe it's being hunted down by a psychotic killer in the deep woods. A devil. A demon.
Or perhaps, just perhaps, you are afraid of the demons that reside inside your head.

If you are afraid of all these things, then you know exactly what it is to be Jude Parish,
former violent crimes detective turned bestselling true crime author.

Jude is being hunted by a video game designer who is also a serial killer.
And before the hunter finishes the violent game of cat and mouse he starts with the entire Parish family in the deep, unrelenting Adirondack woods of Lake George, New York, he will catch their screams.

SCREAM CATCHER: The New Psychological Suspense Thriller from the No. 1 International Bestselling Amazon Kindle Author, Vincent Zandri.  

Praise for SCREAM CATCHER: 

"Vincent Zandri and Scream Catcher are Champions!!!! ” CMash  |  4 reviewers made a similar statement  "The writing is excellent with vivid descriptive writing that will make you feel the powerful emotions of the story. ” M. Vasquez  |  3 reviewers made a similar statement  "Suspense lovers, I highly recommend this book! ” ReviewsByMolly  |  4 reviewers made a similar statement

CATCH SCREAM CATCHER HERE: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B005KAE4KW/ref=nosim/theplanningsh-20

 

CATCH THE EXCITING VIDEO TRAILER: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tix2CNcaxIo

 

 

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

Russo's War

The new one from Russo, in paper edition only...

Pulitzer Prize winning author Richard Russo is trying to stop progress or, said another way, reverse recent history. He's decided to boycott the ebook edition of his newest collection of stories (You can get the exciting story here) in favor of only paper versions (Go to hell all you trees!). Russo feels that in doing so he will become the savior of the ever failing independent bookstore. Hey Russo, where were you when the behemoth Barnes and Nobles and Border's bookstore giants were crushing the itsy bitsy independents? Oh, you were doing book signing tours for them, right? Course you were.

In any case, Russo claims that lots of authors will eventually give up their ebook editions in order to follow his crusade. Wow, Richard, we're all holding our breath. I wonder how many paper copies Russo will sell regardless of giving up ebook sales? I can bet it will be a lot. Certainly more than the average mid-list author who usually won't earn enough back on paper sales to make up his or her advance. But now with ebooks being all the rage, and having great books available at affordable prices to young people who are devouring them on their e-readers, many authors can make a good solid living again. I know, I'm one of them.

Sure, all my books are published in paper, audio, and e-book, and yes I publish with a major publisher (Thomas & Mercer) and with at least two, small, independent publishers (including StoneHouse and StoneGate Ink). Like a writing professor of mine once said, "I lust publishing." Me too! Heck, if there were a way for a book to be published over a smart phone, I would lust that too. Oh, wait, you can get all twelve of my in-print books on a smart phone. You can read plenty of Russo's books that way too.

I wonder if the entire literary intelligentsia is going to jump on the Russo, "Let's go back to the olden days when authors had to struggle to be published and hardcover books cost $30 a piece?" I wonder if the MFA programs and the literary wanna-be NYT newspaper reporters will join in? Not likely. Then they'd have to stop the electronic versions of their papers appearing on their Nooks and Kindles. I wonder if the bookstores Russo is trying to save will give up the antiquated old fashioned system of book returns or stop pulling new books from the shelves after only six weeks? I wonder if they will give up their Internet connections, their Google searches, their smartphones, their Pandora and their Sirius radio in order to support musicians who want to see a return to vinyl records and cash for each single played on the air?

Ok, my point is made.

Mr. Russo, I have the utmost respect for your talents, but please don't encourage other authors who have not won a Pulitzer to follow in your footsteps. Instead encourage them to sign the paper editions of their books at their local independent bookseller. Not since the 1920s have authors enjoyed so much freedom to publish however and wherever they want without having to suffer horrible humiliation at the hands of the corporate media giants. And make no mistake about it, the untalented ones will fail and the talented ones will persevere and sell, just like always. It's not how the words are published, Mr. Russo, it's the fact that they are being published and that people are reading them again at an affordable price.

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

 

Quality or Quantity?

As authors in this, the new golden age of writing, we find ourselves writing more novels than ever. It's all about the content, as they say. Who are they? The ones in the know. The ones who get the fact that the more books you have for sale as E-Book, especially Kindle, the better you will do in the marketplace.

And so we write...

We write without pause.
We write with abandon.
We write when we are inspired and when we are not.
We write like someone or something is chasing our tail, not the least of which is death.
We write because people find reading sexy again when you can do it bed with a digital device.
We write because we can make a good living from it.
We write because we have no choice but to write.

But just remember, we should not write if the writing is going so fast that it is not good writing.
You with me here?
Ask yourself this: Am I sacrificing quality for speed?

WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM