On Wednesday, the United States Department of Justice filed a Sherman Anti-trust Act lawsuit against Apple as well as five of the Big Six publishers that colluded -- I'm not going to use the word alleged like the New York Times and CNN used yesterday; we all know the collusion occurred -- to fix prices to a higher rate than Amazon wanted two years ago.
On behalf of ebook readers everywhere, may I just say yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss!
This is a long time coming. I read the 36-page complaint courtesy the Wall Street Journal Wednesday afternoon, and while it broke down things I've known for two years, it went deeper -- much deeper -- than we, the general public, all believed. The length of time that these publishers spent trying to break Amazon's $9.99 price point -- which, let's face it, is a good price point for digital books that just happen to be newly-released NYT bestsellers -- is just unfathomable. They were obsessed. That's the only word I can come up with here. It was an obsession. Of course they had to raise prices; they were all meeting at high-end Manhattan restaurants discussing this endeavor. It screams of the 1 percent, doesn't it?
Enter Apple. Now, I'm not going to kick dirt on Steve Jobs' grave, God rest his soul. It wasn't just him in this; there are many to blame. All of these wo/men knew what they were doing. It's unconscionable that in this economy that these people willingly gouged their customers, and had planned it for months beforehand. And now, the plan they created, the agency model that Apple and the Big Six imposed upon Amazon and Barnes & Noble, is dying a fast death.
Oh yeah, you didn't hear that? Yep. HarperCollins, Hachette and Simon & Schuster all settled with the government yesterday. Unlike Apple, Penguin and Macmillian -- remember Macmillan's troublemaking two years ago? -- they're ripping up their agency model contracts and re-negotiating with retailers.
And this is a good thing, folks.
As a reader -- a consumer -- I refuse to pay upwards of $13 and $15 for an ebook. A book that doesn't need to be housed in a brick, mortar and steel warehouse, or take up physical space shouldn't cost the same as a trade paperback. If it's a book I really want, I'll pay up to $10. A savings of $18 (hardcover to ebook) is better for me, the consumer, than a savings of $15 or $13. Since a majority of my reading now is in the digital form, I'm looking to save a few bucks, and what Amazon had done once the Kindle came into being in 2007 -- using the wholesale model for ebooks, much like it and other retailers had with ink and paper books for years -- was perfect. The model wasn't broken. Publishers broke it.
And now the government is fixing it. The government is protecting its people. Businesses aren't people.
This lawsuit is down to three now. I can't wait to see what happens next.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Guest author: Jeffrey Beesler
I'd like to introduce you all to Jeffrey Beesler, whose debut novel Spell of Entrapment made its way into the Kindle store this week. Jeff is a talented, budding author from the state of Washington who is on a blog tour to promote the book. I've already read it, and I must say it's a breath of fresh air into the fantasy genre.
Without further ado, here's Jeff:
When a knight, Sir Patrew of Trava,
infiltrates sorceress Embekah’s manor, a spell of entrapment binds them both
inside her home.
This is the
premise for my debut novel, Spell of
Entrapment, the first installment in the Mages of Trava series. I’d really
like to discuss how I came up with such an idea, but I fear the story has long
since escaped me. Quite frankly, I’m not even sure how many of my ideas ever
crop up.
This morning on
my way into writing this guest post for Sean, I happened upon a photo that another
writer friend had posted to Facebook. It featured a fortune cookie whose omen
for the day read as follows: “Creativity: Anarchy of the mind”. This got me to
thinking, as desserts are often wont to do in my case. How many times have I
had a dream I just couldn’t shake, or a thought that wouldn’t die no matter how
much I wanted it to?
Sometimes,
however, I get the sense that these ideas speak to me even when I’m asleep.
Often I’ll have dreams of people who I’ve never even met in real life. It’s
almost as if my own characters are talking to me in my sleep, trying to get my
attention even as I’m working on something else.
For Spell of
Entrapment, I decided to tackle the matter of solitude, and what it might be
like for someone who spent twenty years of her adult life in exile. Then I
built on this by making her come face-to-face with the awkward nature of having
to socialize with someone after having no one to talk to all those years. Adding in the notion that this guy should carry a sort of antagonism toward
her, I wound up fleshing out the conflict in the novel.
Not every idea I
have will be turned into a novel or story. However, I consider each idea that
crosses my path as an exercise in and of itself. It’s keeping my creativity
healthy, which will keep me in fine shape to tell stories for many years to
come.
Jeffrey Beesler
was born on May 2nd, 1978. In addition to self-publishing his debut
novel, Spell of Entrapment, he has had a short fantasy story published in
Abandoned Towers #4, The Broken Pipes of Drei City. He is a graduate of the LongRidge Writers
Group correspondence course, Breaking into Print. His book can be purchased
here:
Amazon:
Smashwords:
Thanks for stopping by, Jeff!
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Coming down the Pike....
For the past three weeks or so, I've been working on a new series for you. As I've hit practically every genre there is to write in, I've decided that this new series will be a mystery series. The first novel will be entitled COLD ALTAR.
There's a little something special about this series, as I've set it in my hometown of Fitchburg, Massachusetts, which will be easier for me to write than, say, New York or another big city not named Boston. The protagonist, Alex Bourque, is a small-town private investigator whose first case is a cold case from the early 1980's. His father, Todd, had worked on the case originally as a detective in the local police department. There is very little in the way of evidence, but as Todd tells Alex, "If anyone can solve it, it's you."
I've set the book up like a Robert B. Parker Spenser novel, in first person with quick-hit sentences and paragraphs. A few graphs, though, do have some meat to them. I don't want to go into any further detail as I'm still in the middle of writing the book, but I can say the part I'm writing now deals with Alex asking a person on the wrong side of the law for help.
Now, back to writing while you get back to reading.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
There's a little something special about this series, as I've set it in my hometown of Fitchburg, Massachusetts, which will be easier for me to write than, say, New York or another big city not named Boston. The protagonist, Alex Bourque, is a small-town private investigator whose first case is a cold case from the early 1980's. His father, Todd, had worked on the case originally as a detective in the local police department. There is very little in the way of evidence, but as Todd tells Alex, "If anyone can solve it, it's you."
I've set the book up like a Robert B. Parker Spenser novel, in first person with quick-hit sentences and paragraphs. A few graphs, though, do have some meat to them. I don't want to go into any further detail as I'm still in the middle of writing the book, but I can say the part I'm writing now deals with Alex asking a person on the wrong side of the law for help.
Now, back to writing while you get back to reading.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Sunday, February 19, 2012
#SampleSunday -- Eminent Souls
Boston Police
escorted the two men out of the Crawford House with little fanfare. Management
prevented the officers from taking Joe away, especially at the insistence of Charlene.
She had pulled the lead officer to the side and spoke with him for several
minutes. He returned and breathlessly told Joe there would be no charges
pressed against him.
Joe couldn’t
help but take a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” Charlene
asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I am. I thought I was going to jail there for a few seconds.”
“Why, for being
chivalrous? I never knew that was a crime.”
Joe caught Charlene’s
wink. He smiled at her sarcasm.
“Hey Joe,”
Bernardino said, approaching the pairing. “It looks as though the rest of the
show is off. You want to go up to the How—”
“No, that’s
okay, Tony,” Joe cut him off. “I don’t think I will.” With half widened eyes,
Joe tilted his head toward Charlene twice. Several heart beats later,
Bernardino’s eyes widened in realization.
“Oh, never mind
then. Enjoy your night, bud. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Damn, I’m
starved. No Mama Cafario’s lasagna?” DiPasquale said as the band walked away.
Ciccolini winked at Joe as he departed.
Within a few
minutes, the Theatrical Bar was empty save for Joe, Charlene and a custodian
who milled about, straightening the tables and picking up broken glass with
dirtied, calloused fingers. Charlene bit her lip as the silence — and
the thought of being somewhat alone with Joe — descended on them.
“So, are you
hungry at all?” Joe asked. He cringed as he said it. He knew he should have
stopped himself before he let his lips start flapping away like a schoolboy.
His thoughts ran as fast as his heart did now.
But Charlene’s
answer startled him.
“Actually, I am.
It’s been a few hours since I ate last.”
Joe pursed his
lips and brought his fingers to his chin in thought. He snapped his fingers and
said, “I know just the place. I think you’re going to like it. Come on.”
“It isn’t your
mom’s kitchen, is it?” She still smiled.
Joe chuckled as
they walked out the door and onto Court Street.
“No, it’s not.
It’s better, though.” He paused. “Just don’t tell her that.”
Charlene brought
her index finger up and drew an X over her chest.
They walked
north.
“Where are we
going?”
“Just to a
little place up around the corner here.”
“Is it where you
take all the girls that you’re chivalrous toward?”
“Not exactly,
no.”
“That’s a double
negative,” Charlene said softly. “I think you’re fibbing, Joe Cafario.”
He shook his
head as she smiled.
They crossed
Hanover Street and headed toward the split at Sudbury and Cambridge Streets.
Despite the hubbub from not half an hour ago, Scollay Square was somewhat
quiet, as if the Lord himself removed everyone from the streets, from the bars
and taverns, and even the tattoo parlors, so that Joe and Charlene could have a
moment’s peace with each other.
As they walked
slowly, not wanting to rush to get to their destination, Charlene tried her
best not to sound like a schoolgirl bobby soxer with a crush on a famous
crooner.
“You sound
fantastic,” she said. She hoped her blush wasn’t apparent to him in this
darkness. “I love your voice on stage.”
“How does it
sound off stage?” Joe said. He winked at her before she could say anything.
Charlene bit her
lip. Her heart skipped a solitary beat.
They crossed
Court Street just before the split and came to a short line of buildings that
separated Court from Howard Street. In this three- and in most places
four-story brick building, Scollay Liquors advertised Orchard Springs rum,
while a street light flickered in front of four small businesses before they
came to Pizza Land. Charlene thought they would head in here, but Joe kept them
moving until they came to the corner of Court and Stoddard Streets.
He had brought
her to Joe and Nemo.
Charlene wet her
lips as she smiled. Her cheeks started to hurt, but she didn’t care. She didn’t
want that feeling to go away.
There were
several people inside. Charlene looked at some of the patrons biting into their
hot dogs, which they had covered with mustard, relish, catsup, and onions.
She immediately —
as if she had any other humanly choice — inhaled the scents that
bombarded her senses.
It smelled like
heaven.
Then the shouts
began, and for a few moments, Charlene thought that she walked with a god of
Boston.
“Hey, there’s
Joey!”
“Joey!”
“Hey, guys. How
are we doing tonight?” Joe said as he led Charlene up to the counter.
“We’re good. No
show tonight?”
“The show was
cut short.” Joe explained what happened over at the Crawford House and
introduced Charlene to the guys. They all held out sterile hands, and Charlene
wasn’t shy about shaking each one, even though she looked meek around all of
these large, burly men.
“How many
tonight, Joey? What’s on ‘em?” they asked once the introductions concluded.
“Three all
around, and a pitcher.”
“Four.”
Both Joe and the
man behind the counter turned and saw Charlene looking not so meek any longer.
She had a smirk on her face.
“Four?” Joey
asked.
“Four.” Charlene
leaned in. “You don’t think I’m going to let you out-eat me, do you?”
Joe grinned
again.
“All right
Tommy, four all around and the pitcher.”
“Coming right
up.”
Charlene watched
as Tommy lifted the lid to the black cauldron and saw steam barrel its way to
the ceiling. The water didn’t appear to bubble. Condensation coated the inside
of the lid, rolling off and dripping onto the floor.
“You don’t boil
the dogs, huh?”
“Nope,” Tommy
said as he pulled out dog after dog with his bare hands. “We don’t ever boil
them. We slow cook them instead. You see, you boil the dogs, the skins tend to
break, and then the dog loses its flavor into the water. We don’t like that. We
slow cook them, keep the flavor in, and that’s just part of the reason why our
dogs are the best in not just the city, but everywhere.”
“And what’s the
other part of the reason?” Charlene asked.
Tommy smiled as
he pulled out the last two dogs and set them in the steamed buns.
“All around.”
Charlene looked
to Joe. He nodded. She looked back to Tommy and shot him a quizzical look.
“All around?”
“Yep, all
around. A hot dog all around is a hot dog with mustard, relish and onions.” He
leaned toward her, purposely blocking Joe from the conversation. “A long time
ago, though, we had horse radish as part of it, but the younger set don’t
really care for it, so we took it out.” He fixed the hot dogs with their
condiments and brought them to the counter before he poured a tall pitcher full
of Schlitz. Half an inch of foam headed it. “You want some beef stew to go with
that, Joey?”
Joe shook his
head.
“Nah, that’s
okay.” He leaned toward Charlene. “The beef stew’s great, full of beef,
vegetables and potatoes with hardly any room for sauce. It would keep you full
for three weeks and you could stand your spoon straight up in it. Fifteen
cents, too. It’s a good bargain, especially for how much they give you in the
bowl. That’s why I like coming here to eat if Mama’s sick, or just for lunch,
you know?”
Charlene pursed
her lips and nodded.
“Thirty cents,
Tom?”
Tommy waved him
off.
“Nah, they’re on
the house. Just keep plugging us in the show. We need more people from the
Crawford coming here.”
“You bet I
will.”
Charlene took
the tray of dogs while Joe grabbed the pitcher and the two pint-sized glasses.
They made their way over to one of the picture windows that lined Court Street.
They sat down and started eating.
“So,” Joe said
in between mouthfuls. “Tell me a little about yourself, Charlene Phillips.
Wait, hold that thought,” he said before yelling over the counter, “What the
hell, Tommy? No horse radish?!”
Laughing, Charlene
brought a napkin to her lips and wiped the mustard from the corner of her lips.
“As I said,
what’s your story?”
Charlene tilted
her head and flashed a smile his way.
“What story, Joe
Cafario?”
Joe rested his
elbows on the table. He was glad his mother wasn’t around, or else he would
have jumped at the crack of a dish towel. He stared into Charlene’s gray eyes
as he brought his chin to his fingers.
“You intrigue
me. We get a lot of people into the Theatrical at night, but never does a
beautiful young woman like yourself come to see me play two nights in a row.”
This time, Charlene
couldn’t help but bite her lip. She put her hot dog down, picked up her
yellow-stained napkin, and began to wave it about in front of her face as if
surrendering to the enemy — albeit a handsome enemy.
“Guilty.”
“Why?”
Charlene
blinked. She didn’t expect him to question her like this, but the way his eyes
danced as he spoke disarmed her and kept her at ease.
“It’s a long
story. I don’t want to bore you.”
“I like long
stories,” Joe said, not missing a beat. “They’re great for wasting time and for
getting to know a lovely young lady like yourself.” He flashed a lopsided grin
at her.
Charlene
couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth turning upward. The blush returned to
her cheeks within a few heartbeats.
“Let’s finish
eating first, then I’ll tell you my story. Stories are best told over beer, not
hot dogs.”
“True. Want to
race?”
“That’s a race I
think you would win easily.”
“Fair enough.”
They ate their
hot dogs in near silence, but they occasionally snagged a peek at the other. Charlene
noticed he had a rugged exterior and that his face rippled as he ate. Joe
noticed that she tried desperately to keep her pinky finger close to the rest
of her fingers, as if her upbringing taught her to treat food like a teacup.
When she was
done, she daintily wiped her mouth while he proceeded to pour the beer. He made
sure to tip the glasses so that as the amber beverage swirled, little foam
formed as he righted them.
“A perfect head,
as they say,” he said.
She didn’t ask
what that meant. She brought the glass to her lips and took a short sip. Her
face twisted into something he couldn’t recognize.
“Not a beer
drinker, I take it?” Joe took a sip from his glass.
Charlene shook
her head.
“Not really,
no.”
“That’s a double
negative.”
Charlene
couldn’t help but smirk.
“So, your
story.”
“Where to
begin?” She held up a hand. “I know, I know. I should start at the beginning.
Very well,” she said, noticing Joe’s own smirk. She took a deep breath, then
began her narrative.
Their beers sat
forgotten in front of them.
“I was engaged
to be married about a year and a half ago.” Charlene didn’t know why she chose
to start there, but she figured that Joe would want her to cut to the quick.
She didn’t want to bore him. “Walter was a good man. He died in Korea.”
“I’m sorry.”
Charlene’s smile
was wistful, but no tears came to her eyes, which surprised her.
“Thank you. He
was from a big old Yankee family like myself, so it was supposed to be a
perfect match. It was weird, though: His family had all of that money, yet they
couldn’t buy his way out of the service.”
“He died serving
his country; he made a wonderful sacrifice. I lost a couple of friends from
high school overseas. I couldn’t go. Heart condition.”
“I could’ve gone
into medicine if I wanted to,” she said. “But no, I had to pick law.”
“So you’re
studying to be a big lawyer.”
She nodded.
“I want to help
the less fortunate. I don’t want to be a public defender, though. I want to be
a civil attorney.”
“That’s very
admirable,” Joe said. “There’s not a lot of money in that, though.”
“Money doesn’t
drive me. I have plenty of it through my family. I just want to make a
difference in other people’s lives.”
“How much longer
do you have until you become a lawyer?”
Charlene seemed
to collapse under the weight of the question.
“About six more
years,” she replied. “I have three years of undergrad left, then the three
years of law school, and then the bar exam. I should be good to start my
practice by 1960, then retire by 1990 if I play my cards right.”
“You have it all
mapped out,” Joe said with a grin. “I admire that.”
Charlene
blushed.
“Thanks.”
“So what brought
you into the square last night?”
“That goes back
to Walter. After he died,” she said, “I was pretty despondent. I didn’t snap
out of it for a while. I eventually started attending Harvard last fall. I met
a few nice girls, and they decided to trick me last night.”
“How did they
trick you?”
“You sound like
you’re the one who’s going to be in a courtroom,” Charlene replied with a
smile. She explained Pamela and Marcy’s plot from the night before. “I think
they wanted me to live a little. I had fun for the first time in eighteen
months last night.”
Joe’s cheek
twitched.
“I had fun looking
at you last night.”
Charlene bit her
lip again. She didn’t know how to continue. She didn’t want to be forward. It
wouldn’t look good, she knew, but there was something about Joe Cafario’s
demeanor that seemed inviting. Her heart trembled at his husky voice, and soon
the words spilled from her lips before she had the chance to stop them.
“Well, if you
must know, my eyes weren’t disappointed, either.”
Joe sniffed a
smile.
“I’ll keep your
secret.”
The pair looked
into each other’s eyes as the minutes passed. Neither moved, nor did they want
to move for fear of breaking this one special moment.
They simply
stared at the other, their eyes smoldering together over empty hot dog wrappers
and a forgotten pitcher of beer.
Eminent Souls on Kindle (US)
Eminent Souls on Kindle (UK)
Eminent Souls on Nook
Eminent Souls on Smashwords
Eminent Souls on Kindle (US)
Eminent Souls on Kindle (UK)
Eminent Souls on Nook
Eminent Souls on Smashwords
Monday, February 13, 2012
This book has love written all over it...
When you see this cover, it's incredibly obvious that it's not a cover that reflects romance in any way:
That's the new cover of my new novel, EMINENT SOULS, which is a romance -- of sorts. It's not your usual, every day, run-of-the-mill romance novel. There is love, yes: there is the love of two young people from different styles of living. But there's a different kind of love in this book: the love that two young people share of a piece of property -- not just any piece of property; it's where they met and fell in love.
In truth, it was more than just a piece of property: Scollay Square was a lifestyle.
For yours truly, Scollay Square became a love affair -- even if I didn't know exactly what was in it until a couple of years ago.
Back in 1991, I was 14 years old, and during the summer, I was about to enter my freshman year at Fitchburg High School. In late July, my folks, myself and my sister all went to Boston one Saturday. I didn't know why. It was just a day trip. We had walked through the Government Center area first, even though I really didn't know it at the time. We walked up to the State House and down Beacon Street. We approached the Cheers bar -- remember, it was 1991 and they were between seasons nine and ten -- and Jen and I were excited about that. But I more excited for seeing the Citgo sign in Kenmore Square: we were going to the Red Sox game! I think we were seeing the Twins that day. Or the Mariners. Who knows, really. We saw the game, then joined the throngs of people on the Green Line.
Dad had said something about seeing a free concert that night, but truthfully, I wasn't in the mood. I had seen enough (*gulp* and that is nothing I would say today) of Boston for one day, and just wanted to get home. Hell, I had seen the Red Sox game. That was enough for me.
I still had to go to the concert. Reluctantly, I went.
As we stepped off the subway at Government Center and walked up the steps to City Hall Plaza, I was amazed by what I saw. The monstrous City Hall off to my right, the towers of the JFK Federal Building straight ahead and off to the left a bit. People filled in the amphitheater around the north stage. It seemed like a great place.
That's when dad said, "We're in Scollay Square, the old happening place in Boston."
Those words set off a love affair with the Square. I knew about it -- but I truly didn't know about it. It wasn't until a couple of years ago, when I was in the process of brainstorming MODEL AGENT, that I decided to look into Scollay Square's history a little more.
Suffice it to say, I was astonished -- and sickened -- by what I saw and read. Gorgeous architecture, gone. Twenty-two streets, altered or wiped out completely. Over 200 years of history, wiped out with a wrecking ball. But more importantly than that, I learned that what my father had said was true: Scollay Square was a happening place. It had spirit. It had life. It was the heart of Boston, the entertainment district that preceded the Combat Zone. And I decided that I would have been quite comfortable living in and around Scollay Square.
It is also why I had Jaclyn Johnson thinking, "They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot," as she gets out of Hanson's car on Congress Street in MA.
EMINENT SOULS deals with more than just love. It deals with the fear Bostonians dealt with in the late 1950's and early 1960's. It deals with prejudices the poor endured from the snobbish Boston Brahmins. And it also deals with the fight Bostonians entered with the city against urban renewal -- one gentleman I spoke with said that his brother in law was a state representative at the time the West End, near Scollay Square, was revitalized a few years before the Square went through the same eminent domain process, and he said that he still hasn't forgiven his brother in law for how the city and state never helped those people. It's absolutely shameful.
But more importantly, EMINENT SOULS is a love letter from me to Scollay Square. I was born too late to fully enjoy the Square in its heyday, to take in a burlesque show at the Old Howard (that's the Old Howard on fire on my cover, 25 years to the day before the Celtics were honored by the city at City Hall Plaza, the same day Jerry Williams said, "I am not broadcasting from Government Center; I am broadcasting from Scollay Square. Let's bring back Scollay Square!") and have a Joe and Nemo hot dog all around (with horse radish, too), but I know in my heart of hearts that I would have loved it all.
Dad was right. Scollay Square was happening. It was the scene, the place to be.
So you see, it's more than just about romance. It's more about remembering what was once good and great about Boston, and what can happen when fear sets in. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you, too, can fall in love with a neighborhood that now only exists in our elders' minds.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Eminent Souls on Kindle (US)
Eminent Souls on Kindle (UK)
Eminent Souls on Nook
Eminent Souls on Smashwords
That's the new cover of my new novel, EMINENT SOULS, which is a romance -- of sorts. It's not your usual, every day, run-of-the-mill romance novel. There is love, yes: there is the love of two young people from different styles of living. But there's a different kind of love in this book: the love that two young people share of a piece of property -- not just any piece of property; it's where they met and fell in love.
In truth, it was more than just a piece of property: Scollay Square was a lifestyle.
For yours truly, Scollay Square became a love affair -- even if I didn't know exactly what was in it until a couple of years ago.
Back in 1991, I was 14 years old, and during the summer, I was about to enter my freshman year at Fitchburg High School. In late July, my folks, myself and my sister all went to Boston one Saturday. I didn't know why. It was just a day trip. We had walked through the Government Center area first, even though I really didn't know it at the time. We walked up to the State House and down Beacon Street. We approached the Cheers bar -- remember, it was 1991 and they were between seasons nine and ten -- and Jen and I were excited about that. But I more excited for seeing the Citgo sign in Kenmore Square: we were going to the Red Sox game! I think we were seeing the Twins that day. Or the Mariners. Who knows, really. We saw the game, then joined the throngs of people on the Green Line.
Dad had said something about seeing a free concert that night, but truthfully, I wasn't in the mood. I had seen enough (*gulp* and that is nothing I would say today) of Boston for one day, and just wanted to get home. Hell, I had seen the Red Sox game. That was enough for me.
I still had to go to the concert. Reluctantly, I went.
As we stepped off the subway at Government Center and walked up the steps to City Hall Plaza, I was amazed by what I saw. The monstrous City Hall off to my right, the towers of the JFK Federal Building straight ahead and off to the left a bit. People filled in the amphitheater around the north stage. It seemed like a great place.
That's when dad said, "We're in Scollay Square, the old happening place in Boston."
Those words set off a love affair with the Square. I knew about it -- but I truly didn't know about it. It wasn't until a couple of years ago, when I was in the process of brainstorming MODEL AGENT, that I decided to look into Scollay Square's history a little more.
Suffice it to say, I was astonished -- and sickened -- by what I saw and read. Gorgeous architecture, gone. Twenty-two streets, altered or wiped out completely. Over 200 years of history, wiped out with a wrecking ball. But more importantly than that, I learned that what my father had said was true: Scollay Square was a happening place. It had spirit. It had life. It was the heart of Boston, the entertainment district that preceded the Combat Zone. And I decided that I would have been quite comfortable living in and around Scollay Square.
It is also why I had Jaclyn Johnson thinking, "They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot," as she gets out of Hanson's car on Congress Street in MA.
EMINENT SOULS deals with more than just love. It deals with the fear Bostonians dealt with in the late 1950's and early 1960's. It deals with prejudices the poor endured from the snobbish Boston Brahmins. And it also deals with the fight Bostonians entered with the city against urban renewal -- one gentleman I spoke with said that his brother in law was a state representative at the time the West End, near Scollay Square, was revitalized a few years before the Square went through the same eminent domain process, and he said that he still hasn't forgiven his brother in law for how the city and state never helped those people. It's absolutely shameful.
But more importantly, EMINENT SOULS is a love letter from me to Scollay Square. I was born too late to fully enjoy the Square in its heyday, to take in a burlesque show at the Old Howard (that's the Old Howard on fire on my cover, 25 years to the day before the Celtics were honored by the city at City Hall Plaza, the same day Jerry Williams said, "I am not broadcasting from Government Center; I am broadcasting from Scollay Square. Let's bring back Scollay Square!") and have a Joe and Nemo hot dog all around (with horse radish, too), but I know in my heart of hearts that I would have loved it all.
Dad was right. Scollay Square was happening. It was the scene, the place to be.
So you see, it's more than just about romance. It's more about remembering what was once good and great about Boston, and what can happen when fear sets in. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you, too, can fall in love with a neighborhood that now only exists in our elders' minds.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Eminent Souls on Kindle (US)
Eminent Souls on Kindle (UK)
Eminent Souls on Nook
Eminent Souls on Smashwords
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The beginning of the end for B&N?
I have long been a proponent of digital reading. Two past two-plus years of my publishing career have been a complete whirlwind -- today I sold my 3,000th book, with about 2,900 of those copies as ebooks -- and have changed my stance on everything in life. I do, on occasion, buy ink and paper books -- I recently bought six Spenser novels by Robert B. Parker and inhaled them in less than two days -- but a majority of my reading dollars goes to digital. But that's not what I want to discuss with you today.
I've blogged in the past about Barnes & Noble's jump into the ereader market with its Nook. I've blogged about how Borders dropped the ball and didn't come up with its own ereader, instead aligning itself with Kobo's device (which is not a slight against Kobo, please understand that). I've also blogged about how Barnes & Noble gave itself five extra years of life by doing what Borders didn't. I wrote about that in 2010.
And now news today has broken. Barnes & Noble is exploring the spinning off of the Nook from its longtime brick-and-mortar business.
Before we -- read: those who own Nook ereaders -- jump into a panic over this, let's clear a few things up right from the top: this is early talk. Both the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal posted stories about this today. This is, as B&N suggests, exploratory work. B&N indicates that the Nook is doing so well that it wants to help the device grow on its own. That is all well and good.
The articles also speculate that not all is well at B&N. Cue the doom and gloom music.
It's too early to speculate exactly what's going to happen. But I don't think it would be tough to envision what would happen if B&N decides to split it away.
Besides, I like to speculate. It wouldn't just be me if I didn't do exactly that, right?
The numbers in the NY Times story tell the tale: B&N's stock has fallen 5.2 percent in the last year to $13.55 after Wednesday's trading. Digital content and Nook sales rose 43 percent during the fourth quarter from 2010, while sales in brick-and-mortar stories rose only 2.5 percent.
Yeesh.
It only continues to show that readers, just like on Amazon, are leaning toward digital. Ereaders and eBooks have turned into the preferred method of reading. There is no use denying this any longer.
Now...
What does this mean for the B&N in your area? Right now, probably nothing. It will continue to do business -- for now.
I repeat: for now.
Personally, to separate the one thing that buoys a business from its parent is something I don't believe would be sound business practice, especially with the loss of Borders so fresh in readers' minds. B&N did separate GameStop from it some eight years ago, but those are two completely different entities -- video games and books. If it separates the Nook from its stores, B&N will fall the way of Borders in the time that I noted. With no one coming into the stores for the Nook, there would be no reason to stay open. Right? By 2015, B&N will more than likely start selling off its physical assets.
Except for the Nook. Note that I say this. The Nook would continue for some time, and B&N, if it splits Nook away, would do its best to maintain a foothold in the device. There would be no need for the brick-and-mortar bookstore if B&N changes its business model to do away with the physical bookstore and instead continue with the digital/online presence. Whether or not the Nook will be enough to keep B&N afloat post-physical liquidation, of course, is anyone's guess.
I am a proponent of digital reading. I want more people to buy ereaders -- whether or not its Kindle or Nook, that no longer matters to me -- and buy my books on them. My book prices are the same for both ereaders.
Whatever happens to B&N, happens. I will be sad to see it go.
Whenever it goes.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
I've blogged in the past about Barnes & Noble's jump into the ereader market with its Nook. I've blogged about how Borders dropped the ball and didn't come up with its own ereader, instead aligning itself with Kobo's device (which is not a slight against Kobo, please understand that). I've also blogged about how Barnes & Noble gave itself five extra years of life by doing what Borders didn't. I wrote about that in 2010.
And now news today has broken. Barnes & Noble is exploring the spinning off of the Nook from its longtime brick-and-mortar business.
Before we -- read: those who own Nook ereaders -- jump into a panic over this, let's clear a few things up right from the top: this is early talk. Both the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal posted stories about this today. This is, as B&N suggests, exploratory work. B&N indicates that the Nook is doing so well that it wants to help the device grow on its own. That is all well and good.
The articles also speculate that not all is well at B&N. Cue the doom and gloom music.
It's too early to speculate exactly what's going to happen. But I don't think it would be tough to envision what would happen if B&N decides to split it away.
Besides, I like to speculate. It wouldn't just be me if I didn't do exactly that, right?
The numbers in the NY Times story tell the tale: B&N's stock has fallen 5.2 percent in the last year to $13.55 after Wednesday's trading. Digital content and Nook sales rose 43 percent during the fourth quarter from 2010, while sales in brick-and-mortar stories rose only 2.5 percent.
Yeesh.
It only continues to show that readers, just like on Amazon, are leaning toward digital. Ereaders and eBooks have turned into the preferred method of reading. There is no use denying this any longer.
Now...
What does this mean for the B&N in your area? Right now, probably nothing. It will continue to do business -- for now.
I repeat: for now.
Personally, to separate the one thing that buoys a business from its parent is something I don't believe would be sound business practice, especially with the loss of Borders so fresh in readers' minds. B&N did separate GameStop from it some eight years ago, but those are two completely different entities -- video games and books. If it separates the Nook from its stores, B&N will fall the way of Borders in the time that I noted. With no one coming into the stores for the Nook, there would be no reason to stay open. Right? By 2015, B&N will more than likely start selling off its physical assets.
Except for the Nook. Note that I say this. The Nook would continue for some time, and B&N, if it splits Nook away, would do its best to maintain a foothold in the device. There would be no need for the brick-and-mortar bookstore if B&N changes its business model to do away with the physical bookstore and instead continue with the digital/online presence. Whether or not the Nook will be enough to keep B&N afloat post-physical liquidation, of course, is anyone's guess.
I am a proponent of digital reading. I want more people to buy ereaders -- whether or not its Kindle or Nook, that no longer matters to me -- and buy my books on them. My book prices are the same for both ereaders.
Whatever happens to B&N, happens. I will be sad to see it go.
Whenever it goes.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Sean's 2011 In Review
2012 is less than a day old for most of the world, but I want to take a few moments to go back into 2011 for a bit. 2011 was a great year for yours truly in the professional arena, with six books released along with a few short stories tossed in for good measure. I tripled my sales from 2010 -- tentative count is 2,290, and my publisher is on vacation, and I still await distribution numbers from Smashwords -- and enter 2012 18 books (tentative, of course) from 3,000 sold lifetime. I'm still in the beginning stages of my journey, but I have the feeling that 2012 will be even better than 2011.
I started off 2011 by finishing off the manuscript originally entitled A Drop To Drink. After careful consideration, I changed the title to MODEL AGENT, and subsequently changed the title of Olympic Flames to ROGUE AGENT.
Nice cover, eh? There's more where that came from!
Just as MA started taking off, I received the artwork from C.S. Marks for The Rise of the Dark Falcon's cover. I thought Christine did a fabulous job with it.
Then came Royal Switch, my follow-up to Turning Back The Clock. The beginning is slow, but once you get passed that, it becomes the thriller it is intended to be.
Then I unleashed Jaclyn a second time in early June.
In late July, thanks to Bruce Sarte at Bucks County Publishing, Zombie Showdown came into being:
And then Jaclyn returned one last time...
And don't forget that I also participated in several anthologies: my buddy Christopher Nadeau invited me into an anthology regarding failed apocalypse warnings, which inspired Belief Debt: Paid In Full. Dean M. Drinkel, a friend in London (too bad he's a Spurs supporter, the wanker), invited me into an anthology surrounded by other great authors who tackled people's phobias; yours truly wrote about clowns in C is for Coulrophobia, The Clown Cemetery. And then I wrote Red Christmas, a holiday horror story, for Bucks County Publishing's second Bump In The Night anthology.
All in all, 2011 was a great year for me, professionally. 2012 is going to be even better: two releases within the first few months -- Eminent Souls and the second Obloeron prequel, The Shadow Looms -- as well as a new series and the fourth Jaclyn Johnson novel. There may even be a few surprises, too.
Stay tuned, and Happy 2012!
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
I started off 2011 by finishing off the manuscript originally entitled A Drop To Drink. After careful consideration, I changed the title to MODEL AGENT, and subsequently changed the title of Olympic Flames to ROGUE AGENT.
Just as MA started taking off, I received the artwork from C.S. Marks for The Rise of the Dark Falcon's cover. I thought Christine did a fabulous job with it.
Then came Royal Switch, my follow-up to Turning Back The Clock. The beginning is slow, but once you get passed that, it becomes the thriller it is intended to be.
Then I unleashed Jaclyn a second time in early June.
In late July, thanks to Bruce Sarte at Bucks County Publishing, Zombie Showdown came into being:
And then Jaclyn returned one last time...
And don't forget that I also participated in several anthologies: my buddy Christopher Nadeau invited me into an anthology regarding failed apocalypse warnings, which inspired Belief Debt: Paid In Full. Dean M. Drinkel, a friend in London (too bad he's a Spurs supporter, the wanker), invited me into an anthology surrounded by other great authors who tackled people's phobias; yours truly wrote about clowns in C is for Coulrophobia, The Clown Cemetery. And then I wrote Red Christmas, a holiday horror story, for Bucks County Publishing's second Bump In The Night anthology.
All in all, 2011 was a great year for me, professionally. 2012 is going to be even better: two releases within the first few months -- Eminent Souls and the second Obloeron prequel, The Shadow Looms -- as well as a new series and the fourth Jaclyn Johnson novel. There may even be a few surprises, too.
Stay tuned, and Happy 2012!
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
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