I beg the pardon of my book readers and fans on Goodreads who will see and read this piece about sports and wonder if I’ve lost my mind. On the contrary; while I haven’t been writing fiction lately—and more on that later this weekend, perhaps—this piece has stewed within me, and with a few extra hours of silence today, this is what my mind spat out.
And besides, without a true home for my sports ramblings any longer, this will have to do. Hey, George R.R. Martin talks about the Giants and the Jets on his page; I can do the same on mine.
***
On Wednesday, the New England Revolution bowed out of the MLS Cup Playoffs, its season sealed on another late-in-the-game goal. While it’s just one game, and the final one, at that, it was a microcosm of a season that should have been, a season that unraveled in the dog days of summer.
The fact of it is that it happened, but that it shouldn’t have. The Revs were sailing high, sitting second in the East as the Leagues Cup competition opened.
But then the bottom dropped out: Bruce Arena, hired when the bottom dropped out the last time in May 2019, placed on paid administrative leave for purported insensitive comments in the locker room. Richie Williams served in his stead—but then we learned a month or so later that he was the rat who went to MLS and reported Arena… and that meant a man who hadn’t coached in the head capacity in the American top flight had weaseled his friend out of a job. Arena resigned.
Soon after, Williams was “re-assigned” and Clint Peay, who had been the gaffer at Revs II in MLS Next Pro and another who hadn’t coached this high, took over for the rest of the season.
The rest of the season resumed on August 26, 11 games to go, and Williams had charge of the Revolution for the next four games, where New England had a win, two draws, and a loss, with seven points dropped in the latter stages of three games.
With seven games remaining and the second change made, the Revs held a “news conference” where nothing of substance went out, and Curt Onalfo made his “It’s time to get out there and play and stop talking about all the baloney. It’s noise. We’re going to focus on winning” speech… which apparently fell on deaf ears in the locker room, and was a running joke on the #NERevs hashtag on Twitter.
In those last seven regular season games, the Revolution won two, lost four, and drew one before the playoffs began. And the playoffs happened. The Revs went down a man early on Wednesday, and that 79th-minute dagger pretty much ended a season which started out so well, only to turn out like dog shit.
In short, the Revs got what they deserved. The fans, who deserve better than a team who shits the bed year in and year out, are rightly pissed.
And as the season ends, here are the things the Revolution need to do in order to set this team back on the Right Path.
Clean house
Revs fans may recall my time on the beat with BSJ and my own entity where I pleaded with management to clean house of the dead weight that had permeated this roster. And that has, for the most part, been done: there are, from my cursory look at the roster, only four players remaining from the Mike Burns Error.
But there are several people—four—who need to go, and yesterday would not be soon enough. Those four, of course, are Brian Bilello, Onalfo, Peay, and Williams.
Bilello and Onalfo’s press conference on September 13th was rather fucking comical. Bilello, of course, is the court jester of spin control in Foxborough, and his non-answers were just that. Typical for a football club who can’t be transparent, even though transparency was promised in 2014. Add in the fact that he was absent on Twitter, even his lame, “The result wasn’t what we wanted” tweets would have been appreciated, showing that the front office gave a shit. Onalfo’s aforementioned comment was meant to be serious, but it became a running joke with the most die-hard supporters of the club. Get rid of both of these two clowns.
To be fair to Peay, he did a great job and should continue to do a great job with the second team. But with the first team, he was pretty much set up to fail. He had no experience coaching at this level, and was clearly out of his depth, especially when it came to substitution strategy. Give him his thanks, and shuffle him back to the reserves.
For Williams, he truthfully ruined this team’s chances because, if what has been reported is true, he felt aggrieved by the lack of a job in 2024. Quietly ship him away and never speak his traitorous name again.
Hire a proven coach
We’ve seen what a proven, capable manager can do for this soccer team. Arena came in after Mike Lapper—and we wouldn’t say no to Mike coming back—buoyed the team in May/June 2019, and he righted the ship, leading the team to the Supporter’s Shield and breaking the club’s playoff-less drought.
Once the Revs have capable leadership in the front office—we’re certainly not going to get it from those two chuckleheads—the club needs to find a gaffer who can instill quick confidence. We thought we were getting that with Brad Friedel in 2018. That didn’t happen.
Finding someone with smart tactics who can properly manage the lads and sub personnel properly needs to be A1 on the agenda.
Apologize profusely to the fans
The entirety of 2023 was an utter shitshow with the Revs, from how it started—annnnnd stickerssssssssss—to how it finished. They’ve taken away the great membership perks. They stayed silent on Arena when they really needed to speak publicly and reassure the fans that they would bring in a quality replacement. That’s not how a Major League team operates. They don’t treat their fans with such utter disrespect.
This club has operated under the guise of—and I’ve written this before—that they have given us Division 1 soccer, we should be damn grateful, and not to question them. It’s an absolute travesty how they treat the fan base.
Just apologize. It’s horse shit that they haven’t, and empty platitudes don’t cut it.
Showing posts with label randomosity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label randomosity. Show all posts
Friday, November 10, 2023
My MLS team played like adverse shit in the second half of the year; they can do so much better
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
Looking ahead to 2021
Within the next two-plus days, the sands in 2020's hourglass will run out, an imaginary hand will twist its wrist and spin it, and the long year of 2021 will begin. For many, seeing New Year's Eve approach has to be a relief; 2020 has not been kind to them, and in the years to come they will flinch when anyone mentions the numbers associated with this horrid year in their presence.
For me, I count myself fortunate. Outside of brief scares, I have not been exposed to COVID. We thought my mom might have been exposed following a late summer outbreak here in my hometown, but she, luckily, turned up negative. Extended family members contracted it and have recovered.
And outside of my wife's stroke back in May and my heart condition rearing its ugly head on me over the last month or so, my family has come out unscathed. We are incredibly thankful for that, and our hearts ache for those who have lost loved ones.
In looking back, we were lucky. We listened to the experts and wore a mask from the middle of March on whenever we left the house. We social distanced, we washed our hands, we sanitized.
In short, we controlled what we could control.
And as I look ahead to next year, I have to continue that mindset. Control what I can control, don't sweat the small stuff. Insert whichever cliché you need, but those are two that I will utilize when it comes to my writing business in 2021.
What can I control?
My writing output, for instance. I'm not setting a word count goal, per se, like I've done in the past, but when I plan to have two books out in 2021 and one is practically already scheduled to come out in the summer, it means that the book I'm about to start writing needs to take priority during my daily writing time in order to have it ready for a near Christmas 2021 release. When 10 a.m. arrives, I need to be in my office typing away until 2 or 3 p.m. Not doing this will hamper that goal.
On the flip side, I have to remind myself not to get completely angry at myself should other things -- like one of my other writing lives, or an emergency -- pop up, and subsequently hampers the writing schedule. That falls under not sweating the small stuff; emergencies happen, and in my other writing job, things happen that take me away from the fiction. I just have to remind myself to get back to the writing as soon as humanly possible. And if that means getting a page done in the overnight, so be it, or promising myself to write more the next day in an effort to make up for it.
What else can I control? Improving my marketing skills. I've said it time and again: my marketing skills are positively dreadful, but I'm working to improve them. I've done quite a bit of reading over the last quarter, and my hope is to continue to tweak my marketing, and not relying on the same tired methods that haven't necessarily worked, or have tailed off in their effectiveness.
And one of those things, unfortunately, is to possibly look into Kindle Unlimited for the release of INCOMING PRIVATE SHOW, at least at the start. I know that those who have bought my books on Nook, Kobo, and iBooks are shouting, "No!" at me, but I have to at least try it out and see if it works for me, with an incredibly well-written book. And honestly, if it doesn't, once the 90-day exclusivity period it up, I can easily take it out of KU and upload to the other markets.
Other things that I can control? My health, the maintenance on my new house and the various tools I need, and whether I'm wearing a mask.
What are the things I won't sweat about in 2021? Book sales -- I have no control over whether or not people buy my books -- the weather, the Revolution or Arsenal winning or losing, and whether or not people get vaccinated. I'm sure there will be other things that come up.
In short, I'm going into 2021 with a great deal of optimism for myself, my business, and the world at large.
I hope you're doing the same.
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
A little flash fiction for you
A few months ago, before I started the stretch run in GLORIOUS SLIP, I needed to get my fingers back into fiction mode after X amount of time away from it. This flash fiction piece was the result; I had seen a cartoon on Facebook depicting this scene, and I figured it was a good exercise to get the writing muscles re-attuned.
Hope you enjoy.
Copyright 2019, Sean Sweeney
Passing the TV, Bob flicked the porn off as he returned to his bed, feeling plenty lighter in his groin. He had just left the bathroom, content with his clean-up abilities for the present, the tissues wadded and sent to his septic tank. Traces of his seminal fluid remained on his skin, matting the thin hairs between his groin and navel to his body. He didn’t care about that; the cleaning job was to make sure that his baby-making goo didn’t coat the inside of his underwear and turn it into a crusty mess; the rest, he figured, would come off in the shower tomorrow morning.
“Ah, lesbians are like plumbers,” he said as he slid under the covers again. “They never cease to help clear my pipe.”
Bob’s head hit the pillow a heartbeat later. As soon as he closed his eyes, the scenes from the porno replayed over and over again as he drifted off, a dreamy smile tracing along his lips. He saw their bodies collide together, their legs scissoring as they mashed their groins against the other. He didn’t remember anything else after the duo separated and approached him; two pairs of breasts, full and fake and coming to rest alongside each other, came crashing down across his conscious self before sleep claimed him.
The heavy clunk of metal against the wall jolted Bob from his heavy slumber hours later, the breath catching in his throat as he jerked from the mattress. He didn’t make a move for the slick goop lingering in the corner of his eye, focused he was on the open door and the darkness beyond it.
“Hello?! Who’s there?!”
No answer came. Bob ground his teeth together.
“I’m calling the police!” he shouted.
“The police won’t help you.”
Bob felt the blood draining from his face, replaced by cold clamminess. The voice came through high-pitched and Arctic, and with such force that it felt all the air in the room had departed. He couldn’t help but notice just how his body shivered from hearing it; he clenched his buttocks almost on instinct, as if preventing his bowels from voiding its contents into his jammies.
The creature slipped into the bedroom a moment later, and Bob didn’t hear his floorboards shifting under the being’s weight. He heard nothing over the sound of his blood thundering in his inner ears.
But the being’s voice sliced through the din with utter sharpness, with the force of a razor grating against Bob’s nerves.
“I have come for you, Robert Wellington,” it said half a moment before the door closed of its own volition. “Your time has reached its end.”
Bob tried to speak. He did his best to pry open his jaws and let sounds flow, but the fright at the being’s presence — a long black cowl shielding its face from anyone’s gaze, along with the scythe it held in one bony hand — reverted him to mere babble. His throat felt as if a python had slithered across and held him within its mighty grasps, for his breath felt choked. His chest ached from the fierce beating his heart gave the inside of his sternum. He continued his lengthy shiver, even as he did his best to shrink underneath the heft of his comforter.
“Why?” Bob squeaked. He thought he had shouted the word, but it came through his lips like a whisper.
“Do not ask why,” the specter of death hissed. “Accept.” It moved forward, easing itself toward Bob’s left foot. It lowered the scythe, almost bringing it parallel to the bed. “Accept. Your soul is mi—”
Crack. The door flung itself open again, the knob driving into the wall. This time, the angel of death spun to see who dared intrude; Bob glanced that way and saw rays of bright light streaming into his room — along with fog rolling and rising.
Bob blinked.
What the f—? he thought, his mind spinning.
The fog cloud grew in size and density until it filled the threshold to Bob’s bedroom. Bob blinked again, then glanced at the specter; it kept whatever served as its gaze fixed on the doorway.
Can I get away? he wondered. Its concentrations are now elsewhere; surely I can slide out of bed, open a window, crawl out, and shimmy down the drainpipe. And without making a single noise.
The thought disappeared as eerie tones resembling a long, throaty whistle purred from the hall. The resonance made Bob recall the times he watched War of the Worlds, right before —
He sought out the bedclothes and grasped them, hard, until the cartilage in his knuckles popped.
Then, Bob stared deep into the fog as it shifted, and through the vapor stepped an extra terrestrial, an alien, its ovoid head and beady black eyes seeking one thing — him, its own gaze landing right on him, almost immediately upon entry.
“Robert,” it said, its voice almost sounding computerized, “we have come to take you away from Earth. The information you have garnered for us resides in the probe we inserted into your rectum the last time—”
Bob wanted to scream.
“Which Robert are you looking for?” the specter of death interrupted, gliding toward the alien.
The alien, to its credit, blinked its eyes and turned to face the specter.
“Gilbride. He lives here, right?”
Bob blinked as the alien pulled what looked like a map from hammerspace; the being wore no pants. All extraneous sounds save Bob’s racing heart and that of the paper unfolding disappeared.
“See, our information led us here. Robert Gilbride lives here.”
“No, no,” the specter rebutted. “He doesn’t live here any longer. I took his soul ages ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite positive. Once you’re mine, you’re mine. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”
The alien threw up its hands, almost in defeat.
“Rats. You didn’t happen to retrieve a probe, did you?”
“That,” the specter replied, “is not in my purview.”
“Damn it. That information is critical to our intended invasion. But onto other matters: Since you are so in-the-know, do you happen to know where Evelyn Bulfinch lives?”
“Why yes, she’s in the next town. Double chimney, satellite dish. Colonial home. Scheduled for reclaiming in October 2025.”
Bob noticed the alien almost grinned when the angel of death gave the month and year.
“We’ll have her back well before that,” it said. “You have my guarantee.”
The alien then crossed its thin arms against its chest and raised its head toward the ceiling. It shimmered into nothingness, almost as if it defragmented itself. The fog cloud fizzled away, and the supernatural light retreated, leaving everything dark — almost too dark for Bob’s liking.
Then, the specter spun again, facing the bed, and Bob knew this was it. The end of the road.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Hope you enjoy.
Copyright 2019, Sean Sweeney
***
Death Meets An Alien
Passing the TV, Bob flicked the porn off as he returned to his bed, feeling plenty lighter in his groin. He had just left the bathroom, content with his clean-up abilities for the present, the tissues wadded and sent to his septic tank. Traces of his seminal fluid remained on his skin, matting the thin hairs between his groin and navel to his body. He didn’t care about that; the cleaning job was to make sure that his baby-making goo didn’t coat the inside of his underwear and turn it into a crusty mess; the rest, he figured, would come off in the shower tomorrow morning.
“Ah, lesbians are like plumbers,” he said as he slid under the covers again. “They never cease to help clear my pipe.”
Bob’s head hit the pillow a heartbeat later. As soon as he closed his eyes, the scenes from the porno replayed over and over again as he drifted off, a dreamy smile tracing along his lips. He saw their bodies collide together, their legs scissoring as they mashed their groins against the other. He didn’t remember anything else after the duo separated and approached him; two pairs of breasts, full and fake and coming to rest alongside each other, came crashing down across his conscious self before sleep claimed him.
The heavy clunk of metal against the wall jolted Bob from his heavy slumber hours later, the breath catching in his throat as he jerked from the mattress. He didn’t make a move for the slick goop lingering in the corner of his eye, focused he was on the open door and the darkness beyond it.
“Hello?! Who’s there?!”
No answer came. Bob ground his teeth together.
“I’m calling the police!” he shouted.
“The police won’t help you.”
Bob felt the blood draining from his face, replaced by cold clamminess. The voice came through high-pitched and Arctic, and with such force that it felt all the air in the room had departed. He couldn’t help but notice just how his body shivered from hearing it; he clenched his buttocks almost on instinct, as if preventing his bowels from voiding its contents into his jammies.
The creature slipped into the bedroom a moment later, and Bob didn’t hear his floorboards shifting under the being’s weight. He heard nothing over the sound of his blood thundering in his inner ears.
But the being’s voice sliced through the din with utter sharpness, with the force of a razor grating against Bob’s nerves.
“I have come for you, Robert Wellington,” it said half a moment before the door closed of its own volition. “Your time has reached its end.”
Bob tried to speak. He did his best to pry open his jaws and let sounds flow, but the fright at the being’s presence — a long black cowl shielding its face from anyone’s gaze, along with the scythe it held in one bony hand — reverted him to mere babble. His throat felt as if a python had slithered across and held him within its mighty grasps, for his breath felt choked. His chest ached from the fierce beating his heart gave the inside of his sternum. He continued his lengthy shiver, even as he did his best to shrink underneath the heft of his comforter.
“Why?” Bob squeaked. He thought he had shouted the word, but it came through his lips like a whisper.
“Do not ask why,” the specter of death hissed. “Accept.” It moved forward, easing itself toward Bob’s left foot. It lowered the scythe, almost bringing it parallel to the bed. “Accept. Your soul is mi—”
Crack. The door flung itself open again, the knob driving into the wall. This time, the angel of death spun to see who dared intrude; Bob glanced that way and saw rays of bright light streaming into his room — along with fog rolling and rising.
Bob blinked.
What the f—? he thought, his mind spinning.
The fog cloud grew in size and density until it filled the threshold to Bob’s bedroom. Bob blinked again, then glanced at the specter; it kept whatever served as its gaze fixed on the doorway.
Can I get away? he wondered. Its concentrations are now elsewhere; surely I can slide out of bed, open a window, crawl out, and shimmy down the drainpipe. And without making a single noise.
The thought disappeared as eerie tones resembling a long, throaty whistle purred from the hall. The resonance made Bob recall the times he watched War of the Worlds, right before —
He sought out the bedclothes and grasped them, hard, until the cartilage in his knuckles popped.
Then, Bob stared deep into the fog as it shifted, and through the vapor stepped an extra terrestrial, an alien, its ovoid head and beady black eyes seeking one thing — him, its own gaze landing right on him, almost immediately upon entry.
“Robert,” it said, its voice almost sounding computerized, “we have come to take you away from Earth. The information you have garnered for us resides in the probe we inserted into your rectum the last time—”
Bob wanted to scream.
“Which Robert are you looking for?” the specter of death interrupted, gliding toward the alien.
The alien, to its credit, blinked its eyes and turned to face the specter.
“Gilbride. He lives here, right?”
Bob blinked as the alien pulled what looked like a map from hammerspace; the being wore no pants. All extraneous sounds save Bob’s racing heart and that of the paper unfolding disappeared.
“See, our information led us here. Robert Gilbride lives here.”
“No, no,” the specter rebutted. “He doesn’t live here any longer. I took his soul ages ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite positive. Once you’re mine, you’re mine. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”
The alien threw up its hands, almost in defeat.
“Rats. You didn’t happen to retrieve a probe, did you?”
“That,” the specter replied, “is not in my purview.”
“Damn it. That information is critical to our intended invasion. But onto other matters: Since you are so in-the-know, do you happen to know where Evelyn Bulfinch lives?”
“Why yes, she’s in the next town. Double chimney, satellite dish. Colonial home. Scheduled for reclaiming in October 2025.”
Bob noticed the alien almost grinned when the angel of death gave the month and year.
“We’ll have her back well before that,” it said. “You have my guarantee.”
The alien then crossed its thin arms against its chest and raised its head toward the ceiling. It shimmered into nothingness, almost as if it defragmented itself. The fog cloud fizzled away, and the supernatural light retreated, leaving everything dark — almost too dark for Bob’s liking.
Then, the specter spun again, facing the bed, and Bob knew this was it. The end of the road.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Saturday, February 16, 2019
First draft to GLORIOUS SLIP finally done, on to the second draft
Phew. That took a while, didn't it?
This past Wednesday afternoon, I put the capper on the first draft to GLORIOUS SLIP, the first book in my planned men's adventure time travel series. The draft checked in at 189 pages, and at 81,850 words, it is my shortest full-length novel. And with the exception of THE QUEST FOR THE CHALICE, my first novel (part of THE OBLOERON SAGA), the 15 months it took me to complete the first draft was the longest I've ever needed to do so.
Take a bow? Not quite yet.
On Friday, I dove into the start of the second draft, added about 101 words to the prose, tweaking the first chapter and a half. I stopped after coming to a part which will need all my attention in the next few days: a massive re-write of a 1,900-word scene that just doesn't make sense to anything resembling a realistic happening -- or realism, period. I suspect it shouldn't take me more than a few days to straighten out, but there are some other threads attached to this scene in the next chapter or so which also need re-writing; you pull at one thread, and the entirety of the project falls apart, right?
That can happen, but I don't think that will necessarily happen here: this activity should oh-most-definitely turn the start of the narrative to titanium.
So why did it take me so long to write? You have to remember something: when I started this novel back in November 2017, I ran into some issues that I didn't foresee whatsoever.
There was The Great Root Canal post Thanksgiving, which took me out of service for a couple of days (seriously, so many dental issues that took up a lot of time between then and this past Christmas... 13 months of driving back and forth to my dentist in Holden, about 45 minutes or so each way).
There was the fact I really couldn't get a handle on this project; I wanted to tell a complete story, like I always do, and I wanted to do so in a completely different voice, so it made the writing feel like I was pulling teeth.
I also had two trips to my hometown every week to do a pair of local sports radio shows, which also demanded on my time, especially when it came to teams that I didn't cover personally; I couldn't write afterward, because those trips and shows took a lot out of me emotionally.
And in April of last year, I took on a wonderful dream job: on top of covering the local high schools, I started covering the New England Revolution soccer team, and even though it's considered part time, I threw myself into it like I always do. All of those things wrapped into one, unfortunately, and it meant GLORIOUS had to go on the shelf. I did get a little written during the tail end of the World Cup in July, but that was it for the first draft until the offseason began -- and even then I was still busy with high school sports until December. And even then, with me taking some time off from the high school sportswriting because the newspaper owed me so much money from November alone, it was still a challenge to open the file and get some words in.
With the Revs spending the preseason in Spain and now in Florida, and with what appears like no streams of the matches in sight, I resolved at the end of January to get the first draft, at the very least, completed by the start of the regular season on March 2. That's accomplished, yes, but I'm not giving the story time to breathe like I usually do; I feel that with the time I have afforded to me, I should at the very least try to get most of the book's issues sorted -- which, like I always say, are in the first half of the book.
Will I get the full second draft completed by the start of the regular season? Probably not. Maybe; I'm not counting on it, though. I should be able to crank the re-writes out this week, and then there's some additions to the story that I came up with a couple of weeks ago: some Doc Brown-esque letters by the protagonist to his parents that wouldn't be delivered until after he had disappeared, so I have those to write. If I get the second draft finished by then, fantastic. If not, it won't bother me until June, when the Revs have a few weeks off due to the Gold Cup. I don't suspect that there will be too much to re-write in the second half of the novel, but you never know.
In all seriousness, I don't want to rush such an important book. It's the first in a planned trilogy, with a lot of the action happening in books two and three. This is a set-up book, to hook the readers and get them to buy books two and three, whenever I get to write them (and if something else gets in my way, it may be a few years before I get the opportunity to sit down and churn out the pages). I'm going to take my time with these re-writes and revisions (read: small tweaks, such as grammar or expounding on other things), and make sure the book is pure fire before I send it to Kim for her edits. I may send it to Bruce, too. He's a history buff, and I'm sure that he'll have things to contribute, advice-wise.
I really can't wait to show you the first book. It's going to be some time, though, so please be patient with me.
Thanks for your time, as always.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
This past Wednesday afternoon, I put the capper on the first draft to GLORIOUS SLIP, the first book in my planned men's adventure time travel series. The draft checked in at 189 pages, and at 81,850 words, it is my shortest full-length novel. And with the exception of THE QUEST FOR THE CHALICE, my first novel (part of THE OBLOERON SAGA), the 15 months it took me to complete the first draft was the longest I've ever needed to do so.
Take a bow? Not quite yet.
On Friday, I dove into the start of the second draft, added about 101 words to the prose, tweaking the first chapter and a half. I stopped after coming to a part which will need all my attention in the next few days: a massive re-write of a 1,900-word scene that just doesn't make sense to anything resembling a realistic happening -- or realism, period. I suspect it shouldn't take me more than a few days to straighten out, but there are some other threads attached to this scene in the next chapter or so which also need re-writing; you pull at one thread, and the entirety of the project falls apart, right?
That can happen, but I don't think that will necessarily happen here: this activity should oh-most-definitely turn the start of the narrative to titanium.
So why did it take me so long to write? You have to remember something: when I started this novel back in November 2017, I ran into some issues that I didn't foresee whatsoever.
There was The Great Root Canal post Thanksgiving, which took me out of service for a couple of days (seriously, so many dental issues that took up a lot of time between then and this past Christmas... 13 months of driving back and forth to my dentist in Holden, about 45 minutes or so each way).
There was the fact I really couldn't get a handle on this project; I wanted to tell a complete story, like I always do, and I wanted to do so in a completely different voice, so it made the writing feel like I was pulling teeth.
I also had two trips to my hometown every week to do a pair of local sports radio shows, which also demanded on my time, especially when it came to teams that I didn't cover personally; I couldn't write afterward, because those trips and shows took a lot out of me emotionally.
And in April of last year, I took on a wonderful dream job: on top of covering the local high schools, I started covering the New England Revolution soccer team, and even though it's considered part time, I threw myself into it like I always do. All of those things wrapped into one, unfortunately, and it meant GLORIOUS had to go on the shelf. I did get a little written during the tail end of the World Cup in July, but that was it for the first draft until the offseason began -- and even then I was still busy with high school sports until December. And even then, with me taking some time off from the high school sportswriting because the newspaper owed me so much money from November alone, it was still a challenge to open the file and get some words in.
With the Revs spending the preseason in Spain and now in Florida, and with what appears like no streams of the matches in sight, I resolved at the end of January to get the first draft, at the very least, completed by the start of the regular season on March 2. That's accomplished, yes, but I'm not giving the story time to breathe like I usually do; I feel that with the time I have afforded to me, I should at the very least try to get most of the book's issues sorted -- which, like I always say, are in the first half of the book.
Will I get the full second draft completed by the start of the regular season? Probably not. Maybe; I'm not counting on it, though. I should be able to crank the re-writes out this week, and then there's some additions to the story that I came up with a couple of weeks ago: some Doc Brown-esque letters by the protagonist to his parents that wouldn't be delivered until after he had disappeared, so I have those to write. If I get the second draft finished by then, fantastic. If not, it won't bother me until June, when the Revs have a few weeks off due to the Gold Cup. I don't suspect that there will be too much to re-write in the second half of the novel, but you never know.
In all seriousness, I don't want to rush such an important book. It's the first in a planned trilogy, with a lot of the action happening in books two and three. This is a set-up book, to hook the readers and get them to buy books two and three, whenever I get to write them (and if something else gets in my way, it may be a few years before I get the opportunity to sit down and churn out the pages). I'm going to take my time with these re-writes and revisions (read: small tweaks, such as grammar or expounding on other things), and make sure the book is pure fire before I send it to Kim for her edits. I may send it to Bruce, too. He's a history buff, and I'm sure that he'll have things to contribute, advice-wise.
I really can't wait to show you the first book. It's going to be some time, though, so please be patient with me.
Thanks for your time, as always.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Monday, February 26, 2018
Getting into my new hobby
Just a couple of paintings that I've done over the last week or so. I bought the Bob Ross "Liquid White," and that has helped with my mountains. I've wanted to do the wet-on-wet technique, but I don't think my paints--$6 paints at Michael's--have the firmness he requires. So I'll do what I can with what I have.
One of the things I've also wanted to do: self-painted book covers for the Obloeron Saga. So that's a possibility.
We'll see.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Negative Reactions Toward New Time Lady Simple-Minded, Not Shocking
Like many people around the world, I waited for news about the 13th incarnation of The Doctor, the protagonist in the long-running--54 full years on Nov. 23!--British sci-fi television show Doctor Who. Being in the United States, I didn't get to watch the announcement live on the BBC; I would have thought BBC America had it, but I guess not. Even so, I learned the identity of the new Doctor--Jodie Whittaker--around 12:30 p.m. while walking around the grocery store; I had to make a quick stop on my way home from a radio appearance in my hometown.
My first reaction to Miss Whittaker was a resounding YES. I have never seen Broadchurch, another BBC show on which she appears as a series regular, nor any of her other work, so I don't know exactly her acting chops--I presume her acting is on another level in order to land this iconic role. My emphatic YES is over the fact that a change in The Doctor's gender was acknowledging what was becoming a mere formality at this point:
John Simms' Master: "Is the future going to be all-girl?"
12th Doctor: "We can only hope."
There were other signs, too, beyond 10th Series dialogue: the fact The Master became The Mistress--and seriously, how fucking fantastic is Michelle Gomez as an actress?--and the General from the Time War regenerated into female form for what was to be his/her final regeneration of this cycle. And don't forget the minisode that preceded the 50th Anniversary special, where the Sisterhood of Karn gave Paul McGann's 8th Doctor the option of choosing his next incarnation: "Time Lord science is elevated here on Karn; the change doesn't have to be random. Fat or thin? Young or old? Man..... or woman?"
Plain and simple, this was HAPPENING, like it or not; from a storytelling perspective, it sends the narrative into interesting directions. And yes, there have been plenty of criticism about it from the Small Penis Brigade.
I haven't seen the angry responses to Jodie Whittaker signing on as the newest Time Lady; if I'm being honest, I really don't care to see them. I know some of my friends have seen them.
Of course, it's typical anti-feminist bullshit. These are the same people who bitched about the potential relationship between Rey and Finn--or because Finn is a black stormtrooper?--in Star Wars. Perhaps these people never realized there have been Time Ladies in the past, such as the Rani, or Romana. Or... River Song? Ever hear about her?
Oh yes--the Doctor's wife. One of the best Time Ladies to ever wield a sonic screwdriver, who also blew kissy noises into her microphone Sunday when she found out Whittaker is the new Doctor. A return for River to find out her husband is now a drop dead gorgeous blonde--not ginger, my only complaint--Time Lady between now and 2021? My pulse is pounding simply thinking of THAT particular scenario.
Hello, Sweetie? Hellooooooo, Sweetie!
Doctor Who is not going to be ruined by this welcome change. If you think so, you have every right not to turn on the television every Saturday. Honestly, I think you're going to miss out--and it will be your loss, not ours.
Doctor Who as a woman? Doctor Why Not?
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
 |
| Doctor Bae. |
My first reaction to Miss Whittaker was a resounding YES. I have never seen Broadchurch, another BBC show on which she appears as a series regular, nor any of her other work, so I don't know exactly her acting chops--I presume her acting is on another level in order to land this iconic role. My emphatic YES is over the fact that a change in The Doctor's gender was acknowledging what was becoming a mere formality at this point:
John Simms' Master: "Is the future going to be all-girl?"
12th Doctor: "We can only hope."
There were other signs, too, beyond 10th Series dialogue: the fact The Master became The Mistress--and seriously, how fucking fantastic is Michelle Gomez as an actress?--and the General from the Time War regenerated into female form for what was to be his/her final regeneration of this cycle. And don't forget the minisode that preceded the 50th Anniversary special, where the Sisterhood of Karn gave Paul McGann's 8th Doctor the option of choosing his next incarnation: "Time Lord science is elevated here on Karn; the change doesn't have to be random. Fat or thin? Young or old? Man..... or woman?"
Plain and simple, this was HAPPENING, like it or not; from a storytelling perspective, it sends the narrative into interesting directions. And yes, there have been plenty of criticism about it from the Small Penis Brigade.
I haven't seen the angry responses to Jodie Whittaker signing on as the newest Time Lady; if I'm being honest, I really don't care to see them. I know some of my friends have seen them.
Of course, it's typical anti-feminist bullshit. These are the same people who bitched about the potential relationship between Rey and Finn--or because Finn is a black stormtrooper?--in Star Wars. Perhaps these people never realized there have been Time Ladies in the past, such as the Rani, or Romana. Or... River Song? Ever hear about her?
Oh yes--the Doctor's wife. One of the best Time Ladies to ever wield a sonic screwdriver, who also blew kissy noises into her microphone Sunday when she found out Whittaker is the new Doctor. A return for River to find out her husband is now a drop dead gorgeous blonde--not ginger, my only complaint--Time Lady between now and 2021? My pulse is pounding simply thinking of THAT particular scenario.
Hello, Sweetie? Hellooooooo, Sweetie!
Doctor Who is not going to be ruined by this welcome change. If you think so, you have every right not to turn on the television every Saturday. Honestly, I think you're going to miss out--and it will be your loss, not ours.
Doctor Who as a woman? Doctor Why Not?
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Recipe Wednesday: Chicken Parm on the Grill
A year and a half ago, you may recall that I posted a simple baked chicken parm recipe. We like our poultry here at the Farm, and probably have chicken twice a week along with pasta and sauce, steaks, fish, and pork chops. We never starve, even though I'm technically a starving artist. Take that as you will.
In that post, I mentioned that I've done chicken parm on the ol' grill, putting foil on the grate and letting Jen do up the fixings on the chicken; mainly tenderizing and dipping the chicken in beaten egg and coating it with bread crumbs. Seven minutes a side on high, and it's cooked through in a third of an hour.
About two weeks ago, I discovered a different way on Facebook (perhaps you've seen the video), and I decided to give it a try.
In a word, it's delish.
I started with two pieces of Pam-drenched foil before I cut and arranged summer squash slices; I would have used sliced zucchini, but I don't have any ready from the garden, and I used the zucchini I had bought on the Fourth of July with steak. I seasoned the squash with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a little Italian seasoning to give it a little kick.
After that, I opened my chicken breasts. We've been using the Purdue Perfect Portions lately, so I don't even have to tenderize or trim it. Place the chicken atop the squash, then apply salt and pepper.
Then you add your marinara on top of that.
You can use whatever sauce you want. If you want to use store bought sauce out of a jar, have at it. I prefer to make my own, as I have said before. I ladle the thick gravy onto the chicken, then top it with cheese. I didn't have any provolone on hand, so I just used shredded mozzarella. Then I wrap it all up and set it aside.
I'll then prep my pasta. On this particular day, I just used spaghetti, but I'm sure this will work with angel hair, penne, farfalle, or rigatoni. Your choice. I only made half a pound for the two of us, and that may have been too much. I salt my water to get it boiling faster.
While the water is heating up, I light the grill and wait five minutes to allow it time to heat up. Once ready, I turn the heat to its absolute lowest--you don't want to scorch the squash!--and toss the chicken parm packets on.
With this particular recipe, I don't flip the packets. I keep it on the squash side for 18-20 minutes, and in that time, the chicken will be cooked through. Remove from the heat and let it rest; those foil packets will be hot.
And obviously stir your pasta. Drain, and serve as close to immediately as you can. If you need to wait, drizzle olive oil over it and stir it in.
We added a little grated parmesan and romano cheese to ours, and tucked right in.
Jen loved it, so I have permission to make this again. I definitely will, and will use zucchini.
Bon appetit.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
In that post, I mentioned that I've done chicken parm on the ol' grill, putting foil on the grate and letting Jen do up the fixings on the chicken; mainly tenderizing and dipping the chicken in beaten egg and coating it with bread crumbs. Seven minutes a side on high, and it's cooked through in a third of an hour.
About two weeks ago, I discovered a different way on Facebook (perhaps you've seen the video), and I decided to give it a try.
In a word, it's delish.
I started with two pieces of Pam-drenched foil before I cut and arranged summer squash slices; I would have used sliced zucchini, but I don't have any ready from the garden, and I used the zucchini I had bought on the Fourth of July with steak. I seasoned the squash with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a little Italian seasoning to give it a little kick.
After that, I opened my chicken breasts. We've been using the Purdue Perfect Portions lately, so I don't even have to tenderize or trim it. Place the chicken atop the squash, then apply salt and pepper.
Then you add your marinara on top of that.
You can use whatever sauce you want. If you want to use store bought sauce out of a jar, have at it. I prefer to make my own, as I have said before. I ladle the thick gravy onto the chicken, then top it with cheese. I didn't have any provolone on hand, so I just used shredded mozzarella. Then I wrap it all up and set it aside.
I'll then prep my pasta. On this particular day, I just used spaghetti, but I'm sure this will work with angel hair, penne, farfalle, or rigatoni. Your choice. I only made half a pound for the two of us, and that may have been too much. I salt my water to get it boiling faster.
While the water is heating up, I light the grill and wait five minutes to allow it time to heat up. Once ready, I turn the heat to its absolute lowest--you don't want to scorch the squash!--and toss the chicken parm packets on.
With this particular recipe, I don't flip the packets. I keep it on the squash side for 18-20 minutes, and in that time, the chicken will be cooked through. Remove from the heat and let it rest; those foil packets will be hot.
And obviously stir your pasta. Drain, and serve as close to immediately as you can. If you need to wait, drizzle olive oil over it and stir it in.
We added a little grated parmesan and romano cheese to ours, and tucked right in.
Jen loved it, so I have permission to make this again. I definitely will, and will use zucchini.
Bon appetit.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Sunday, January 8, 2017
The Paperbacks (well, some of them) Are Coming
You may recall that in the days before last weekend and the turn of the calendar, I posted my list of writing resolutions for 2017. One of my resolutions, right in the middle, was to learn how to do wraparound book covers for paperback books through CreateSpace.
As I wrote in that blog: Honestly, I should know how to do a wraparound.
Of course, there's a reason why I didn't, and as always, I'll be honest with you: I was scared. Scared to fuck up what is supposed to be one of the most important parts of a book. I can tell you that looking at the specs in order to create a cover--and this was before I discovered they had templates to do your wraparounds--I easily felt my rear end pucker with fear.
So with that known, I decided to outsource my paperbacks to people more competent in PhotoShop. First Trish, then D.W. Bruce gave me an awesome cover to Zombie Showdown. They delivered quality work, and I was proud of what they easily created.
But as my own PhotoShop skills increased, I felt I needed to learn how to do them myself, especially after last year's local Comic Con--July 29th, this year--made me realize that I needed more on-hand product. And as I wrote in early August, I wanted the product out in time for this past Christmas sales, but that didn't happen: the interior files I did that week, but I couldn't do the wraparounds. I sat on them. I decided just before the New Year that I needed to watch a tutorial on YouTube--seriously, there is a tutorial for everything on YouTube--and learn how to do it.
I found some time for the tutorial this past Friday, and right after that, I got bold: I did the wraparound cover to The Lone Bostonian, a book I've wanted to get into paperback for a while. It took me about half an hour or thereabouts, and I managed to create a solid wraparound.
Still, I wanted to puke afterward.
Saturday afternoon, I did the wraparounds for An Invitation To Drink... Or To Die: A Murder Mystery Novella and Scollay Love: A Romance, the latter under my D.L. Boyd pen name. The novella went through without a problem. Scollay Love, on the other hand... I didn't use the .psd for the front cover, since I deleted it a while back, and I found out earlier this morning there were bleed issues on the ebook cover version, which I used. As soon as I can afford to re-download the cover, I will re-do the .psd in order to get the paperback out there. So right now, Scollay Love is on hold for paperback.
And this morning, I did the covers to the Small Town P.I. series' individual books. Those went like clockwork, and probably took an hour of time. I'm expecting those five finished paperbacks, three novels and two novellas, to be available for sale by the end of this week.
I'm holding off on a few of the last books I need to do for now: Royal Switch, like I wrote in the resolutions blog, is on hold until the summer: I want to do a full revision on the story and move a few things around, quite possibly after I write the first draft to the ninth Jaclyn Johnson novel. In addition, I want to improve the cover and see what I can do with it.
In addition, the Obloeron novels aren't ready for singling--i.e., I don't have individual covers yet--so there are no Obloeron paperbacks at present. There are also no Obloeron single ebook versions yet, either. One thing at a time.
Still... getting these five books out is a great relief.
Now... about getting certain books out in hardcover--we're working on that.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
As I wrote in that blog: Honestly, I should know how to do a wraparound.
Of course, there's a reason why I didn't, and as always, I'll be honest with you: I was scared. Scared to fuck up what is supposed to be one of the most important parts of a book. I can tell you that looking at the specs in order to create a cover--and this was before I discovered they had templates to do your wraparounds--I easily felt my rear end pucker with fear.
So with that known, I decided to outsource my paperbacks to people more competent in PhotoShop. First Trish, then D.W. Bruce gave me an awesome cover to Zombie Showdown. They delivered quality work, and I was proud of what they easily created.
But as my own PhotoShop skills increased, I felt I needed to learn how to do them myself, especially after last year's local Comic Con--July 29th, this year--made me realize that I needed more on-hand product. And as I wrote in early August, I wanted the product out in time for this past Christmas sales, but that didn't happen: the interior files I did that week, but I couldn't do the wraparounds. I sat on them. I decided just before the New Year that I needed to watch a tutorial on YouTube--seriously, there is a tutorial for everything on YouTube--and learn how to do it.
I found some time for the tutorial this past Friday, and right after that, I got bold: I did the wraparound cover to The Lone Bostonian, a book I've wanted to get into paperback for a while. It took me about half an hour or thereabouts, and I managed to create a solid wraparound.
Still, I wanted to puke afterward.
Saturday afternoon, I did the wraparounds for An Invitation To Drink... Or To Die: A Murder Mystery Novella and Scollay Love: A Romance, the latter under my D.L. Boyd pen name. The novella went through without a problem. Scollay Love, on the other hand... I didn't use the .psd for the front cover, since I deleted it a while back, and I found out earlier this morning there were bleed issues on the ebook cover version, which I used. As soon as I can afford to re-download the cover, I will re-do the .psd in order to get the paperback out there. So right now, Scollay Love is on hold for paperback.
And this morning, I did the covers to the Small Town P.I. series' individual books. Those went like clockwork, and probably took an hour of time. I'm expecting those five finished paperbacks, three novels and two novellas, to be available for sale by the end of this week.
I'm holding off on a few of the last books I need to do for now: Royal Switch, like I wrote in the resolutions blog, is on hold until the summer: I want to do a full revision on the story and move a few things around, quite possibly after I write the first draft to the ninth Jaclyn Johnson novel. In addition, I want to improve the cover and see what I can do with it.
In addition, the Obloeron novels aren't ready for singling--i.e., I don't have individual covers yet--so there are no Obloeron paperbacks at present. There are also no Obloeron single ebook versions yet, either. One thing at a time.
Still... getting these five books out is a great relief.
Now... about getting certain books out in hardcover--we're working on that.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Friday, August 19, 2016
Let's Change Cultural Norms: Have a Bookstore Singles Night
A few years ago, I wrote a nifty blog about dating in the
e-reading world. It was a pretty solid blog on how I think dating would go when
two like-minded people who both happen to own e-readers meet by chance, i.e.
spying the opposite sex across an idyllic college campus while one has their
ereader out. Any time I speak at a high school English class about writing, I always tell the boys: “Guys,
you have a better chance of scoring a date by READING. Women love intelligent,
well-read men.” You may remember it. If you don’t, here it is.
I only bring this up because I feel couples need to have at
least one thing in common: Jen and I read, although our tastes in books differ
greatly. She likes literary works, while I prefer action/adventure genre fiction. (Quick aside: When
she and I first met, I said I would read East of Eden. And I did. In about
seven weeks. And she's read a few of my books, too.) To each their own. We also have a love of horses and other small animals
(our Inn is full, no vacancies), and cooking, and gardening. We are a pretty
well-rounded, married couple.
But there are some who may not have the luck my wife and I had
in meeting and getting together and falling in love over our shared interests.
And that brings us to the subject of this diatribe.
A couple of months ago, there was a story about Barnes &
Noble taking an idea out for a test drive: serving alcohol in four pilot
stores, just to see how it would go. I refrained blogging about it; quickly
highlighting it, I feel (and I'm probably unanimous in this) it should be a two-drink maximum, and you have to make
a book purchase by the second drink order. A bookstore—or any book retailer—is not
a damn library, and a bookstore is not a bar. I’m just saying.
With that said, I want to take that concept one further. How about a
bookstore singles night?
Imagine this idea: you know you can already buy a girl a
drink at a bar. It has been done countless times, ad nauseam. Shit, I've done it. Why can’t you buy
her—or him; girls can buy guys a book, too; and a girl can do it for a girl,
and a guy can do it for a guy—a book and forge a more interesting connection
that way? Don’t you think if you were to strike up a conversation over a book,
whether it be in the fantasy/sci-fi section or the romance/bodice ripper
section, or whatever, you’d have a better chance of getting digits, or exchange
email addresses or Facebook accounts and having a longer-lasting relationship
than one started when you’re three sheets to the wind and more than likely will
end with a drunken Walk of Shame?
Again, I’m just saying.
Someone, please organize a bookstore singles night. This
should be the ultimate conversation starter, one which won’t end with the first
flip of the page.
Monday, August 1, 2016
The goals for the year ahead
Usually around this time of year, I take a moment to breathe:
I’ve cleared my desk of certain projects that have lingered for the time being,
and I’m doing a bit of a cleanse, shall we say. I also take a moment to take
stock in what I have accomplished in the year, and I also re-assess the goals I
have set for the next 12 months or so.
(You can take a look at what I’ve said I would do in past
years here and here. Some of it, I've followed through. Other stuff, not so much.)
We are slightly halfway through 2016. I’ve attended my first
convention, and I’ve released two books so far. Through seven months, I’ve sold
459 books. Sixty-six books a month is a decent average, but not outstanding; to
compare, my friend Daniel Arenson announced this morning that he sold “tens of
thousands” of books in July. While I am incredibly happy for Daniel’s success,
I want to have that success, too. I am desperate for that success.
In addition, my mailing list, after a thorough cull of spam
accounts earlier today, is at 37 subscribers. In all, those are not great
numbers.
The crazy thing about this: I know I can do better.
I am determined to
do better.
That said, here’s what I’m planning to do over the next year:
First, everything I’ve written needs to be in print, via the
old fashioned ink-and-paper delivery system.
As I explained Sunday, I had hesitated in bringing a great
variety of physical product to the convention, not knowing how much I would
sell, for starters: I didn’t want to be burdened with loads of stock, and I
didn’t want to feel like the old “self-publisher selling books out of the trunk
of his car” adage. But when I was asked, “Where’s the rest?” by several
attendees on realizing I have 24 novels out, it makes me look inward and say, “maybe
I really should have had more of a variety with me.”
The problem is this: the first four AGENT novels have the
old covers on them, not the newer covers from two years ago. Also, The Lone Bostonian and several other
books are not in ink-and-paper. Why? For me, my thinking over time is that I’d
make them available if there’s a demand for them. I’ve only sold 180ish ink-and-paper
books, and only 16 ink-and-paper books in 2016; most of my sales come via
ebook. Suffice to say, there hasn’t been much call for ink-and-paper books.
But if I want to do more conventions, if I want to get out
and meet more people—more potential readers—I need to have the books on hand,
and in order to do that, I need to dedicate time and energy to making sure the
books are formatted for ink-and-paper, and are formatted properly. I also need
to release single versions of the books in The
Obloeron Saga in both digital and ink-and-paper, and those need covers. I also need second-edition AGENT
paperbacks for the first four books, a second-edition for Zombie Showdown, and I need to put the novella in print,
too. I need all of this done by November, in time for Christmas.
Secondly, I need more ebook bundles.
I’m seeing loads of authors having success with ebook
bundles. Right now, the only ebook bundle I have is for The Obloeron Saga, and that is six novels with three short stories
woven into the prose. I need to get the Small Town PI mystery series into an ebook
bundle, as well as the first seven Jaclyn novels into an ebook bundle. That
needs to be done ASAP.
Third, I need to write a new series.
At present, I just don’t know what that new series will be. My next book
is a follow-up to a book I released last year, The Long Crimson Line (ebook and ink-and-paper, and hopefully we’ll
be in audio soon), and I plan on starting to write that book next week or the week after. That will
make TLCL a duology instead of just a standalone. I’m going to try and stay
away from writing standalones for the foreseeable future; they just don’t sell,
at least not for me. That gives me a few months to come up with something, another series, before I start plotting out JJ9.
I’m also considering writing that new series under a pen
name. I did it with Jaclyn under my real name after sales under the John Fitch V name slumped.
Fourth, I need to get Furball and Feathers back out, with
new cover art.
This one isn’t as imperative as the others, but one I need to
exercise patience.
I’m not the best artist in the world. I admit that. I did sketch
out and color the horse cover for the third book in that series, but it needs a
massive overhaul, art-wise. I bought a sketch pad a few weeks ago, and I’m
hoping to ferret some time away to design a whole new set of colorful covers. I
miss that children’s world!
And finally, do better convention prep.
Better signage, a Square credit card reader, book stands…
and more product. Yes. My next convention will be better.
Simply put, I as an author need to be better.
You as my readers deserve better.
Friday, March 25, 2016
An Unscheduled Visit of Illness
Writing over the course of the last two weeks has been at a virtual standstill. It's not that I don't want to progress on Ticket Agent's first draft; I do. I should be closing in on 40,000 words--novel-sized!--and nearing the halfway point by now. Pushing back the first-draft writing means other tasks--reading Beach Blanket Bloodshed before writing the blurb and uploading it for pre-order, doing the first full read-through of The Peg-Legged Privateer, writing all of the other projects filling my head--gets pushed back, too.
And there's a reason for that.
Welcome to the Noble House of Plague.
Yup. Whatever has been floating around Massachusetts lately has invaded the Farm, attacking its human denizens with the force of a shovel swung against a cranium. It swept in slowly, at first; I found myself sneezing quite a bit before aches and chills followed. Soon, I had a nose full of snot--I know, great visual--and lo and behold, Jen followed. In that time, I tried to write, even if it was just a page. Afterward, I felt as though I had run a marathon. We went through four boxes of tissues in just over a week.
Tired of feeling ill, I recently went to my doctor. The verdict: sinus infection. Meds for a week and a half. Jen went to hers the next day: bronchitis.
So to say we haven't gotten too much done over the course of the past two weeks is an understatement, and hopefully we'll be able to catch up on certain chores this coming week.
However, I am feeling better. I'm still coughing, but my head isn't filled with fifty pounds of yellow mucus any longer. The hope is I'll get to write a little this afternoon and a little tomorrow, but more than likely Monday is the best-case scenario to get back to Jaclyn's world.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
And there's a reason for that.
Welcome to the Noble House of Plague.
Yup. Whatever has been floating around Massachusetts lately has invaded the Farm, attacking its human denizens with the force of a shovel swung against a cranium. It swept in slowly, at first; I found myself sneezing quite a bit before aches and chills followed. Soon, I had a nose full of snot--I know, great visual--and lo and behold, Jen followed. In that time, I tried to write, even if it was just a page. Afterward, I felt as though I had run a marathon. We went through four boxes of tissues in just over a week.
Tired of feeling ill, I recently went to my doctor. The verdict: sinus infection. Meds for a week and a half. Jen went to hers the next day: bronchitis.
So to say we haven't gotten too much done over the course of the past two weeks is an understatement, and hopefully we'll be able to catch up on certain chores this coming week.
However, I am feeling better. I'm still coughing, but my head isn't filled with fifty pounds of yellow mucus any longer. The hope is I'll get to write a little this afternoon and a little tomorrow, but more than likely Monday is the best-case scenario to get back to Jaclyn's world.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Thursday, December 31, 2015
An Author's Resolutions for 2016
For my past resolutions, see 2012 and 2013.
As 2015 comes to a close and 2016 takes her first bow, I'm going to do something I haven't done in a few years: I'm going to make certain resolutions for my writing which I'm planning on keeping throughout the calendar year--and hopefully beyond.
I will use my time more effectively in 2016.
Notice I didn't say "I will write more" or "I will publish X number of books" in 2016. Even though I've hit those two particular goals in the past, I have to say my time management skills have rather atrophied, especially as 2015 developed. The lure of the Internet and Facebook and Twitter and (insert your favorite sites here) have contributed to my ADHD, and I always find myself behind the eight ball when it comes to my word counts. I have to scold myself to get back on track. That being said...
I will significantly reduce my time spent on Facebook, Twitter, and other social media in 2016.
Always a toughie, especially when us authors are expected to cultivate a following and need to breed our relationships with our readers, interacting with them through social media. And I have to be honest (and my wife will agree with me): I spend way too much time on social media. I've started to limit my time on my sportswriting Twitter (there's a reason for that), but I'm not seeing an increase in my writing productivity. I resolve that I will spend only a few minutes on social media, then get to work. And when I'm on it too much, I resolve to whack my ass with a boat paddle and do something constructively with my extra time, i.e. start brainstorming other projects instead of whittling my time away on Facebook. (We'll see how this one goes.)
I will blog more in 2016.
I wrote 40 blogs in 2015, which is the most I've written under this account (my John Fitch V account, well... I blogged a lot. Whether or not it was anything of substance, well....). I will provide more raw snippets of my writing, more thoughts about the industry, more food (I supplied readers with four tasty dishes in 2015), and just about anything else that tickles my fancy in 2016. I try to stay away from blogging about my favorite sports teams a la George R.R. Martin does, since I'm a New England/Boston sports fan, and right now New England/Boston sports fans are a rather hated group of people. I want to draw potential readers in, not turn them away simply due to my sports allegiances. Simply put: I resolve to write 52 blogs--one a week--in 2016.
I will look into other avenues to spread the word about my books in 2016.
I've blogged about it in the past, and we already know the hard truths of publishing in the current state of things: I've recently realized Facebook's organic reach is at minute levels, and the platform has done its best to squeeze out small businesses from reaching their customers. Facebook was, at my peak, the best way to reach readers. Nowadays, hardly anyone sees my links even on my personal page. I'm looking into growing my newsletter mailing list and doing a more direct route to readers, letting readers who want to know about the books know about them; after all, isn't that why I went indie? To reach readers directly, without a middleman? I resolve to reduce my reliance on just posting links to Facebook--however, I do plan on taking out Facebook ads and hope to grow the mailing list with a free novella tease at some point in 2016. It's working for others, so I have to really test the waters. I've stuck a toe in, but I need to dive further in. I will do this in 2016.
Thanks for being with me in 2015. I resolve to do better in 2016.
Happy New Year, everyone.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
As 2015 comes to a close and 2016 takes her first bow, I'm going to do something I haven't done in a few years: I'm going to make certain resolutions for my writing which I'm planning on keeping throughout the calendar year--and hopefully beyond.
I will use my time more effectively in 2016.
Notice I didn't say "I will write more" or "I will publish X number of books" in 2016. Even though I've hit those two particular goals in the past, I have to say my time management skills have rather atrophied, especially as 2015 developed. The lure of the Internet and Facebook and Twitter and (insert your favorite sites here) have contributed to my ADHD, and I always find myself behind the eight ball when it comes to my word counts. I have to scold myself to get back on track. That being said...
I will significantly reduce my time spent on Facebook, Twitter, and other social media in 2016.
Always a toughie, especially when us authors are expected to cultivate a following and need to breed our relationships with our readers, interacting with them through social media. And I have to be honest (and my wife will agree with me): I spend way too much time on social media. I've started to limit my time on my sportswriting Twitter (there's a reason for that), but I'm not seeing an increase in my writing productivity. I resolve that I will spend only a few minutes on social media, then get to work. And when I'm on it too much, I resolve to whack my ass with a boat paddle and do something constructively with my extra time, i.e. start brainstorming other projects instead of whittling my time away on Facebook. (We'll see how this one goes.)
I will blog more in 2016.
I wrote 40 blogs in 2015, which is the most I've written under this account (my John Fitch V account, well... I blogged a lot. Whether or not it was anything of substance, well....). I will provide more raw snippets of my writing, more thoughts about the industry, more food (I supplied readers with four tasty dishes in 2015), and just about anything else that tickles my fancy in 2016. I try to stay away from blogging about my favorite sports teams a la George R.R. Martin does, since I'm a New England/Boston sports fan, and right now New England/Boston sports fans are a rather hated group of people. I want to draw potential readers in, not turn them away simply due to my sports allegiances. Simply put: I resolve to write 52 blogs--one a week--in 2016.
I will look into other avenues to spread the word about my books in 2016.
I've blogged about it in the past, and we already know the hard truths of publishing in the current state of things: I've recently realized Facebook's organic reach is at minute levels, and the platform has done its best to squeeze out small businesses from reaching their customers. Facebook was, at my peak, the best way to reach readers. Nowadays, hardly anyone sees my links even on my personal page. I'm looking into growing my newsletter mailing list and doing a more direct route to readers, letting readers who want to know about the books know about them; after all, isn't that why I went indie? To reach readers directly, without a middleman? I resolve to reduce my reliance on just posting links to Facebook--however, I do plan on taking out Facebook ads and hope to grow the mailing list with a free novella tease at some point in 2016. It's working for others, so I have to really test the waters. I've stuck a toe in, but I need to dive further in. I will do this in 2016.
Thanks for being with me in 2015. I resolve to do better in 2016.
Happy New Year, everyone.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Friday, December 4, 2015
Check out this balsamic chicken and veggies dish
It's been a while since I've blogged, and since no one really wants to hear how I'm struggling a little with the current WIP as of late, I'm going to write about food instead.
One of my high school contemporaries--and in a Six Degrees of Separation angle, the mother of one of my wife's math students--had posted a recipe for One Pan Balsamic Chicken from Tasty on Facebook over the weekend, and it was so mouth-watering that I needed to try it. My mom also posted it, so that must have been a sign. I made it Thursday, and I altered the directions a little. Instead of one pan, I used two to keep everything relatively warm.
Doesn't this look fantastic?
Here's what you'll need:
As many chicken breasts that you and your family will eat, tenderized and sliced into no more than 1 1/2-inch wide lengths
An 8-ounce package of mushroom slices
Green Beans, between a quarter of a pound and half a pound
A cup of grape tomatoes, halved the long way
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil
1/4 cup Italian dressing
1-2 tablespoons of honey
3 tablespoons Balsamic vinaigrette
In the first frying pan, coat with olive oil and toss in your mushrooms, cooking them down on high for a few minutes, stirring and tossing. They should go from their pale gray coloring to a darker shade of sandalwood. Add your green beans to this, turn the heat to low, and cover.
In the second frying pan (once the first is covered), coat with olive oil and toss in your chicken breasts, adding salt and pepper to taste. We tenderize our chicken, so it's relatively flat; also, I had put the breasts into the oil whole without slicing, which led to the chicken being slightly undercooked and I had to zap it for about 50 seconds to finish it off. When the outside edges of the chicken grow white, turn the chicken. Keep doing this every few minutes in order to cook the chicken through, probably four turns or so, especially if your chicken is sliced (you live and you learn). As you're waiting for the chicken, remember to stir the mushrooms and beans a few times. Once done, set the chicken aside.
In the same pan that you used to cook the chicken, it's time to make your balsamic glaze. Don't worry if there are little pieces of chicken still in the pan: use that to your advantage! Add the Italian dressing, then the honey, then the Balsamic vinaigrette. Cook it on high for a few minutes, stirring until the concoction is all dark and bubbly.
By now, the mushrooms and beans should be ready. Toss the chicken in, along with the halved grape tomatoes. Then, pour your balsamic glaze over the top of it, then stir and cover for about two minutes.
I served this with white rice, drizzling some of the extra glaze over it to give it some additional flavor.
My bride thoroughly enjoyed this, so I'm being allowed to make it again. This next time, I will totally trim the chicken down to size.
Enjoy!
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
One of my high school contemporaries--and in a Six Degrees of Separation angle, the mother of one of my wife's math students--had posted a recipe for One Pan Balsamic Chicken from Tasty on Facebook over the weekend, and it was so mouth-watering that I needed to try it. My mom also posted it, so that must have been a sign. I made it Thursday, and I altered the directions a little. Instead of one pan, I used two to keep everything relatively warm.
Doesn't this look fantastic?
Here's what you'll need:
As many chicken breasts that you and your family will eat, tenderized and sliced into no more than 1 1/2-inch wide lengths
An 8-ounce package of mushroom slices
Green Beans, between a quarter of a pound and half a pound
A cup of grape tomatoes, halved the long way
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil
1/4 cup Italian dressing
1-2 tablespoons of honey
3 tablespoons Balsamic vinaigrette
In the first frying pan, coat with olive oil and toss in your mushrooms, cooking them down on high for a few minutes, stirring and tossing. They should go from their pale gray coloring to a darker shade of sandalwood. Add your green beans to this, turn the heat to low, and cover.
In the second frying pan (once the first is covered), coat with olive oil and toss in your chicken breasts, adding salt and pepper to taste. We tenderize our chicken, so it's relatively flat; also, I had put the breasts into the oil whole without slicing, which led to the chicken being slightly undercooked and I had to zap it for about 50 seconds to finish it off. When the outside edges of the chicken grow white, turn the chicken. Keep doing this every few minutes in order to cook the chicken through, probably four turns or so, especially if your chicken is sliced (you live and you learn). As you're waiting for the chicken, remember to stir the mushrooms and beans a few times. Once done, set the chicken aside.
In the same pan that you used to cook the chicken, it's time to make your balsamic glaze. Don't worry if there are little pieces of chicken still in the pan: use that to your advantage! Add the Italian dressing, then the honey, then the Balsamic vinaigrette. Cook it on high for a few minutes, stirring until the concoction is all dark and bubbly.
By now, the mushrooms and beans should be ready. Toss the chicken in, along with the halved grape tomatoes. Then, pour your balsamic glaze over the top of it, then stir and cover for about two minutes.
I served this with white rice, drizzling some of the extra glaze over it to give it some additional flavor.
My bride thoroughly enjoyed this, so I'm being allowed to make it again. This next time, I will totally trim the chicken down to size.
Enjoy!
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Friday, October 30, 2015
To cut my nose off to spite my face, or no? Free book indecision.
Catchy title, is it not? It is. Oh, it is. And it can be explained in one anxiety-riddled blog post.
I've battled a demon for these last few months. The demon is a tricky one, since it has been the driving force behind my good fortune when it comes to this publishing/book sales game I've played these last few years.
Yup. It's the demon of indecision, the demon of whether or not to take Model Agent, the first book in the Jaclyn Johnson code name Snapshot/Agent series, off perma-free status and make it a paid book on Kindle and iBooks again.
Through September, readers have downloaded Model Agent in excess of 103,000 times for free, with a little less than 900 paid copies through Nook and Kobo. On iBooks, MA is still good for well over a hundred downloads a month. On Kindle, not too many. For instance, in September, MA saw 158 free downloads on Apple; in August, 197, in July, 187. Last month on Kindle, there were 79 free downloads; this month, 28. The sell-through over the last few months has not been spectacular; in September, I sold a grand total of 52 books; 26 were through Kindle, Nook, and Kobo, with another 26 through Apple. This month, I'm at 19 before the Apple numbers come through, and I'll get this month's Apple numbers in the middle of next month. I told you: not exactly great.
See my dilemma?
The theory of making a book free, especially in a series, is to sell-through the remainder of the series, and use the first book as a loss leader. The sell-through, from Model to Rogue to Double and so forth, has been decent through Double: as I've explained, I bought ENT sponsorships for the first three, and that is part in parcel of the series' draw. As I've reported, I was unable to get one for Federal Agent, which recently eclipsed the 700-copy mark; that book has been out for three years. The most recent two books, Literary (JJ5) and Travel's (JJ6) numbers aren't exceptional, and sales are down across the board. I don't know if people didn't like the first three or just don't know if there are more books since I didn't get an ad for Federal. If I'm being honest, the writing in these latter books is better than the writing in Model. Some people are buying and downloading them, yes, but are doing so in small quantities instead of the rate of purchase from a few years ago.
So what to do? It's a question that doesn't have an easy answer: If I take MA off perma-free, what will happen to my Apple sales? What will happen to my Kindle sales? They are low as it is, and if the perma-free is driving what I have for sales as it is, well... I don't want to think of what my sales would be without Model Agent being free. And if I'm being honest, I don't have another series at the moment with a first book to use as a new loss leader.
This may require a little more thought... maybe until the holiday season passes.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
I've battled a demon for these last few months. The demon is a tricky one, since it has been the driving force behind my good fortune when it comes to this publishing/book sales game I've played these last few years.
Yup. It's the demon of indecision, the demon of whether or not to take Model Agent, the first book in the Jaclyn Johnson code name Snapshot/Agent series, off perma-free status and make it a paid book on Kindle and iBooks again.
Through September, readers have downloaded Model Agent in excess of 103,000 times for free, with a little less than 900 paid copies through Nook and Kobo. On iBooks, MA is still good for well over a hundred downloads a month. On Kindle, not too many. For instance, in September, MA saw 158 free downloads on Apple; in August, 197, in July, 187. Last month on Kindle, there were 79 free downloads; this month, 28. The sell-through over the last few months has not been spectacular; in September, I sold a grand total of 52 books; 26 were through Kindle, Nook, and Kobo, with another 26 through Apple. This month, I'm at 19 before the Apple numbers come through, and I'll get this month's Apple numbers in the middle of next month. I told you: not exactly great.
See my dilemma?
The theory of making a book free, especially in a series, is to sell-through the remainder of the series, and use the first book as a loss leader. The sell-through, from Model to Rogue to Double and so forth, has been decent through Double: as I've explained, I bought ENT sponsorships for the first three, and that is part in parcel of the series' draw. As I've reported, I was unable to get one for Federal Agent, which recently eclipsed the 700-copy mark; that book has been out for three years. The most recent two books, Literary (JJ5) and Travel's (JJ6) numbers aren't exceptional, and sales are down across the board. I don't know if people didn't like the first three or just don't know if there are more books since I didn't get an ad for Federal. If I'm being honest, the writing in these latter books is better than the writing in Model. Some people are buying and downloading them, yes, but are doing so in small quantities instead of the rate of purchase from a few years ago.
So what to do? It's a question that doesn't have an easy answer: If I take MA off perma-free, what will happen to my Apple sales? What will happen to my Kindle sales? They are low as it is, and if the perma-free is driving what I have for sales as it is, well... I don't want to think of what my sales would be without Model Agent being free. And if I'm being honest, I don't have another series at the moment with a first book to use as a new loss leader.
This may require a little more thought... maybe until the holiday season passes.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Thursday, June 25, 2015
An author, re-assessing his business plan
Warning: Long post. For the TL,DR crowd: Author talks about changing his business plan, along with some insight on his sales figures.
Call me a real-life Sheldon Cooper. Go on. I don't mind.
Much like Jim Parsons' beloved character, I love Star Wars and Doctor Who. Trains? Eh, I could take them or leave them, but I could ride the T all day. Science? To a point. Having a special spot? Well, let's not go too far there, Charlie. The same goes for comic books.
But for the most part, I don't like change much. I like things the way they are; you can call me a champion for the status quo, if you so desire. Change doesn't send me into a tither like it does to Sheldon; my face doesn't jerk about.
However, changes to certain places in the social media landscape--which is quite possibly the poor author's best friend when it comes to promoting their books and letting potential readers know about books--has kept me up nights, has killed my organic reach, and has sent my sales spiraling into the abyss.
*Re-reads that last graph*
Huh. Not bad. Maybe I should be an author when I grow up. Moving on.
All kidding aside, it's pretty true. The number of books I've sold in recent months--shit, in just the past year--has plummeted dramatically (yes, I keep a spreadsheet). Where once I was good for triple-digit sales months, my newer books with better writing (in my humble opinion, of course) barely scrape enough together to pay the cable bill; I'm at 41 sales for June with less than a week left in the month, and a new book coming out Monday. In May, I sold 39 books, thanks in part to a website glitch that I didn't notice until it was too late. I had a fantastic, triple-digit April thanks to the Double Agent audiobook coming out (and I didn't even promote it). Before that, my last triple-digit month was August 2014.
Suffice it to say, the last ten months have not been kind to this author.
The twelve months before that, it was like a teeter-totter: there were a few months where the sales came in droves. Sure, I had a couple of zero days, but nothing like in recent months. I had triple-digit sales months dotted in with a couple of double-digit sales months. I thought everything was fine, and that there wouldn't be any changes--or that I would have to make any changes--to my business model. Then the last 13 months happen, with two triple-digit sales months. Yikes.
It has led me to believe what I initially thought was false is now indeed true: what had worked for me, and many other authors like me, back in 2011 and 2012 (two of my best years writing and selling my own books, 2,319 and 4,001 sales, respectively), doesn't work any longer. For the record, in 2013, I sold 1,545 books, and 1,037 in 2014. So far in 2015, I'm at 404... and we're barely halfway through the year. Honestly, it feels like 2010 again. The simple posting of links on your personal Facebook page may work, but some people are going to get pissed, and others that used to buy your books are at a different stage in their lives and don't have the time to read at the present. I posted the link to The Long Crimson Line the other day, and it got five shares, but nothing in the way of sales came out of those shares. You can post links to your professional "like" page, but the reach has shrunk to miniscule figures (read: Facebook wants you to buy sponsorships, and up until now, I've been rather hesitant to do that): on my Sean Sweeney, Author page, where I have 569 fans, I only reached 11 people with my most recent posting. The posting before that, 27. The one before that, 34. Before that, 16. The one before that, 97. I won't even tell you the fan total/reach on my Jaclyn Johnson page.
In addition, Facebook groups, in my recent experience, are no longer working; there are certain groups where you can promote your wares, but there are very few actual readers/non-authors there. If I'm being honest, I don't want to pitch my book(s) to just authors who are trying to scream over me and trying to plug their books to readers that aren't even there. And as for the "you buy mine, I'll buy yours" type of authors who I don't know.... sorry, guys. I know you're not going to read my book, and I'm not going to read yours. One sale isn't going to placate us; we should be honestly looking to build relationships with readers for long-term benefit. In other words, let's stop with the authorly hand jobs, OK?
And Twitter? OK.... I will admit, Twitter is successful. No one in my circle has Kobo, so those Kobo sales have to come from somewhere. I know many authors who are successful with Twitter. There are days I wonder, though, if anyone is truly paying attention to me there. Google Plus? People read my blogs there, but I'm not posting book links there. The old Kindleboards? I don't believe I've received a sale through my dealings there in many months.
Now it's time to re-assess how we're moving forward. Call it eBook Publishing 2.0, if you will. Over the past few weeks, I've given things serious consideration. No, I'm not quitting; I could never truly quit. But if I want to remain in the game... I have to ch-ch-ch-change.
Like I said, I thought the old ways would still work. I had considered starting a mailing list as early as February 2014, but at the time, I thought it too complicated (I have since learned otherwise) and never followed through. Now that I have some time, I'm concentrating on building the mailing list on various fronts: I've placed code here in the blog and on my website to take names and email addresses (which I won't sell, not even for Monopoly money). Yeah, it's generic. I have a newsletter that is coming out Monday. If you want on, by all means, register. The newsletter will have updates on drafts, as well as links for books. It'll be like my blog, but mailed to those who want it.
Now...
As I wrote earlier this week, I'm closing in on 10,000 sales (I'm actually at 9,986 right now). In addition, I've given out more than 102,500 copies of Model Agent for free. Not all of those 9,986 sales are Jaclyn books (it's actually 6,945 not including this month's sales, but that's neither here nor there).
But here's what I find interesting:
874 paid Model Agent
2,803 Rogue Agent
2,120 Double Agent
Those were the first three books, all published in 2011. All three did very well, and all three, it should be noted, were featured sponsors on Ereader News Today between March 2011 and April 2012. Altogether, those three books have accrued over 5,800 readers, and I presume a lot of those are repeat readers.
However, moving forward:
674 Federal Agent
235 Literary Agent
177 Promises Given, Promises Kept (the novella)
77 Travel Agent
Ouch. What happened? I don't have a real answer. Federal came out in 2012, the novella in 2013, Literary in 2014, and Travel in 2015. I didn't get ENT sponsorships for them. Maybe I had hoped that the readers would continue after Double. Did they find someone new? Did they think I suck? I know some do think that, and I know I'm not going to please everyone.... were the other 90,000 who downloaded Model just hoarding it and haven't read it?
So, how do I get those readers back?
Easy: Hopefully a paid Facebook ad pointing out that I'm still here, still writing a pretty darn good character? That may be what I do, along with getting names for the newsletter. You can't spend what you don't have, so the hope is that I can devote a few dollars to winning the readers back.
And if that doesn't work... then I'll have to think of something else. I can't be afraid of changing any longer.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Call me a real-life Sheldon Cooper. Go on. I don't mind.
Much like Jim Parsons' beloved character, I love Star Wars and Doctor Who. Trains? Eh, I could take them or leave them, but I could ride the T all day. Science? To a point. Having a special spot? Well, let's not go too far there, Charlie. The same goes for comic books.
But for the most part, I don't like change much. I like things the way they are; you can call me a champion for the status quo, if you so desire. Change doesn't send me into a tither like it does to Sheldon; my face doesn't jerk about.
However, changes to certain places in the social media landscape--which is quite possibly the poor author's best friend when it comes to promoting their books and letting potential readers know about books--has kept me up nights, has killed my organic reach, and has sent my sales spiraling into the abyss.
*Re-reads that last graph*
Huh. Not bad. Maybe I should be an author when I grow up. Moving on.
All kidding aside, it's pretty true. The number of books I've sold in recent months--shit, in just the past year--has plummeted dramatically (yes, I keep a spreadsheet). Where once I was good for triple-digit sales months, my newer books with better writing (in my humble opinion, of course) barely scrape enough together to pay the cable bill; I'm at 41 sales for June with less than a week left in the month, and a new book coming out Monday. In May, I sold 39 books, thanks in part to a website glitch that I didn't notice until it was too late. I had a fantastic, triple-digit April thanks to the Double Agent audiobook coming out (and I didn't even promote it). Before that, my last triple-digit month was August 2014.
Suffice it to say, the last ten months have not been kind to this author.
The twelve months before that, it was like a teeter-totter: there were a few months where the sales came in droves. Sure, I had a couple of zero days, but nothing like in recent months. I had triple-digit sales months dotted in with a couple of double-digit sales months. I thought everything was fine, and that there wouldn't be any changes--or that I would have to make any changes--to my business model. Then the last 13 months happen, with two triple-digit sales months. Yikes.
It has led me to believe what I initially thought was false is now indeed true: what had worked for me, and many other authors like me, back in 2011 and 2012 (two of my best years writing and selling my own books, 2,319 and 4,001 sales, respectively), doesn't work any longer. For the record, in 2013, I sold 1,545 books, and 1,037 in 2014. So far in 2015, I'm at 404... and we're barely halfway through the year. Honestly, it feels like 2010 again. The simple posting of links on your personal Facebook page may work, but some people are going to get pissed, and others that used to buy your books are at a different stage in their lives and don't have the time to read at the present. I posted the link to The Long Crimson Line the other day, and it got five shares, but nothing in the way of sales came out of those shares. You can post links to your professional "like" page, but the reach has shrunk to miniscule figures (read: Facebook wants you to buy sponsorships, and up until now, I've been rather hesitant to do that): on my Sean Sweeney, Author page, where I have 569 fans, I only reached 11 people with my most recent posting. The posting before that, 27. The one before that, 34. Before that, 16. The one before that, 97. I won't even tell you the fan total/reach on my Jaclyn Johnson page.
In addition, Facebook groups, in my recent experience, are no longer working; there are certain groups where you can promote your wares, but there are very few actual readers/non-authors there. If I'm being honest, I don't want to pitch my book(s) to just authors who are trying to scream over me and trying to plug their books to readers that aren't even there. And as for the "you buy mine, I'll buy yours" type of authors who I don't know.... sorry, guys. I know you're not going to read my book, and I'm not going to read yours. One sale isn't going to placate us; we should be honestly looking to build relationships with readers for long-term benefit. In other words, let's stop with the authorly hand jobs, OK?
And Twitter? OK.... I will admit, Twitter is successful. No one in my circle has Kobo, so those Kobo sales have to come from somewhere. I know many authors who are successful with Twitter. There are days I wonder, though, if anyone is truly paying attention to me there. Google Plus? People read my blogs there, but I'm not posting book links there. The old Kindleboards? I don't believe I've received a sale through my dealings there in many months.
Now it's time to re-assess how we're moving forward. Call it eBook Publishing 2.0, if you will. Over the past few weeks, I've given things serious consideration. No, I'm not quitting; I could never truly quit. But if I want to remain in the game... I have to ch-ch-ch-change.
Like I said, I thought the old ways would still work. I had considered starting a mailing list as early as February 2014, but at the time, I thought it too complicated (I have since learned otherwise) and never followed through. Now that I have some time, I'm concentrating on building the mailing list on various fronts: I've placed code here in the blog and on my website to take names and email addresses (which I won't sell, not even for Monopoly money). Yeah, it's generic. I have a newsletter that is coming out Monday. If you want on, by all means, register. The newsletter will have updates on drafts, as well as links for books. It'll be like my blog, but mailed to those who want it.
Now...
As I wrote earlier this week, I'm closing in on 10,000 sales (I'm actually at 9,986 right now). In addition, I've given out more than 102,500 copies of Model Agent for free. Not all of those 9,986 sales are Jaclyn books (it's actually 6,945 not including this month's sales, but that's neither here nor there).
But here's what I find interesting:
874 paid Model Agent
2,803 Rogue Agent
2,120 Double Agent
Those were the first three books, all published in 2011. All three did very well, and all three, it should be noted, were featured sponsors on Ereader News Today between March 2011 and April 2012. Altogether, those three books have accrued over 5,800 readers, and I presume a lot of those are repeat readers.
However, moving forward:
674 Federal Agent
235 Literary Agent
177 Promises Given, Promises Kept (the novella)
77 Travel Agent
Ouch. What happened? I don't have a real answer. Federal came out in 2012, the novella in 2013, Literary in 2014, and Travel in 2015. I didn't get ENT sponsorships for them. Maybe I had hoped that the readers would continue after Double. Did they find someone new? Did they think I suck? I know some do think that, and I know I'm not going to please everyone.... were the other 90,000 who downloaded Model just hoarding it and haven't read it?
So, how do I get those readers back?
Easy: Hopefully a paid Facebook ad pointing out that I'm still here, still writing a pretty darn good character? That may be what I do, along with getting names for the newsletter. You can't spend what you don't have, so the hope is that I can devote a few dollars to winning the readers back.
And if that doesn't work... then I'll have to think of something else. I can't be afraid of changing any longer.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Cape Cod pictures from Ballston Beach in Truro
After I hit 35,000 words in CHEMICAL AGENT's first draft, Jen and I packed up the Honda and headed down to her grandmother's house in Truro, Massachusetts, on Cape Cod. I've written about this old homestead before.
Anyway, one of the things we like to do during our Cape trips is take a walk up to Ballston Beach, not too far from the homestead. It's just a little bit of a walk, and I had to stop a few times for breath. And seeing as if pretty much everything else is closed, the beach is a good option--especially this time of year, when the human congestion is nearly at nil.
With it being low tide at this point--we arrived at the beach about 10 minutes before low tide at 10:35 a.m.--I whipped out my camera and started taking some pictures.
Two different pics of the same dune, with the top picture being from today. The bottom one is from January 2, but in the afternoon. I believe it was medium tide in the second one. I like the contrast in the colors here, mainly the shading and the changing of the erosion from January to now.
I got on my side, right down on the damp sand, and got a got shot of all these stones that had washed up and had stayed as the tide retreated back into the Atlantic. All stones of all shapes and sizes.
I saw this and had to have a picture of all this driftwood, seemingly embedded in the sand. It made me wonder from where did all this wood come? Were these timbers from a downed ship that had once sailed in the 1700's, during Colonial times? I've written about one such ship, in David Wood's Dane and Bones series.
I found these slabs next to a tidal pool. I wonder about this, too.
Quite possibly one of my favorite pictures from our excursion to the beach. The earth's gravity is taking the opportunity to suck the remaining water from the beach, and it's cutting rivulets in the sand. It's like a babbling brook, and with the wind biting your ears, it's a majestic symphony. I think I stared, on my stomach, at this mini waterfall for about five minutes.
I'm just a lonely pole, and nobody loves me.
And this was the coolest shell on the beach.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Anyway, one of the things we like to do during our Cape trips is take a walk up to Ballston Beach, not too far from the homestead. It's just a little bit of a walk, and I had to stop a few times for breath. And seeing as if pretty much everything else is closed, the beach is a good option--especially this time of year, when the human congestion is nearly at nil.
With it being low tide at this point--we arrived at the beach about 10 minutes before low tide at 10:35 a.m.--I whipped out my camera and started taking some pictures.
I found these slabs next to a tidal pool. I wonder about this, too.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Recipe Wednesday: Crock Pot Pork Chops
In my novella An Invitation To Drink... Or To Die, one of the minor characters is a chef. In the scene in question, he is preparing that night's dinner: a crock pot pork chop dish.
That's the dish I want to share with you while you sink your teeth into Travel Agent today. I made this dish for my wife when we started dating, and this is usually a Tuesday staple here on the Farm.
The ingredients are simple:
One package of center cut pork chops, the quantity of chops up to the amount of people you're feeding
One chopped onion
One small can of mushroom pieces, drained
Worcestershire sauce
Ketchup/catsup, depending on your particular spelling
One can of cream of mushroom soup, condensed
Pepper to taste
Procedure:
Put your pork chops on the bottom of your crock pot, then top with the onions and mushroom pieces. I like to liberally sprinkle the pork with the Worcestershire sauce before I coat with ketchup. Then I cover it with the cream of mushroom soup, spreading it over the other ingredients. Then I grind pepper on top, and cover. I cook it on low for six hours. I don't add salt as the pork has plenty of it.
In those six hours, I'll stir it once or twice. If the pork starts shredding, that's fine. In the last 15 minutes of cooking, I'll make my sides: you can serve with pasta, rice, or potatoes as my starch/carbs, but I prefer to serve with either pasta or brown rice. The reason for brown rice? Sure, it's a healthier option than white rice, but regardless if I buy the name brand or the store brand brown rice, it's pretty tasteless. Go on. Admit it. However, if you douse the brown rice with the gravy of this dish--the cream of mushroom soup will turn to a nice light gravy through cooking for six hours on low--it'll give the rice some flavor, and the mushrooms and the onions will make the gravy nice and chunky.
I serve this dish with a vegetable, too! We'll have this with buttered sweet corn, steamed broccoli, green beans from the garden, or a medley of steamed zucchini and summer squash.
Hope you enjoy this one.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
That's the dish I want to share with you while you sink your teeth into Travel Agent today. I made this dish for my wife when we started dating, and this is usually a Tuesday staple here on the Farm.
The ingredients are simple:
One package of center cut pork chops, the quantity of chops up to the amount of people you're feeding
One chopped onion
One small can of mushroom pieces, drained
Worcestershire sauce
Ketchup/catsup, depending on your particular spelling
One can of cream of mushroom soup, condensed
Pepper to taste
Procedure:
Put your pork chops on the bottom of your crock pot, then top with the onions and mushroom pieces. I like to liberally sprinkle the pork with the Worcestershire sauce before I coat with ketchup. Then I cover it with the cream of mushroom soup, spreading it over the other ingredients. Then I grind pepper on top, and cover. I cook it on low for six hours. I don't add salt as the pork has plenty of it.
In those six hours, I'll stir it once or twice. If the pork starts shredding, that's fine. In the last 15 minutes of cooking, I'll make my sides: you can serve with pasta, rice, or potatoes as my starch/carbs, but I prefer to serve with either pasta or brown rice. The reason for brown rice? Sure, it's a healthier option than white rice, but regardless if I buy the name brand or the store brand brown rice, it's pretty tasteless. Go on. Admit it. However, if you douse the brown rice with the gravy of this dish--the cream of mushroom soup will turn to a nice light gravy through cooking for six hours on low--it'll give the rice some flavor, and the mushrooms and the onions will make the gravy nice and chunky.
I serve this dish with a vegetable, too! We'll have this with buttered sweet corn, steamed broccoli, green beans from the garden, or a medley of steamed zucchini and summer squash.
Hope you enjoy this one.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Snowbound And Hunkered Down: The Blizzard of 2015
 |
| I took this photo Wednesday morning of our driveway/parking area. |
At 37, I'm too young to remember the infamous Blizzard of '78. I was less than a year old for that storm, which seemingly came out of nowhere and blanketed the metropolitan Boston area with several feet of snow, along with high snowdrifts.
Alas, the Blizzard of '78 is just a memory to many now, but it's a memory that has many Bostonians and residents of surrounding towns scurrying to the grocery store whenever snow is mentioned. For us here, it's called "Got to get the Bread and Milk," something that everyone needs. As my wife so eloquently says every snowstorm, "Do these people just make French toast during snowstorms?" But I digress.
(Quick aside, this video here basically shows the mentality of every single Massachusetts resident when it comes to these grocery store runs pre-snowstorm. Go on, give it a view. It never gets old.)
When we heard about the upcoming snowstorm, we had just received a healthy sheet of about six inches of snow on Saturday. On Sunday, Jen and I delivered a snowblower to my brother-in-law in Connecticut, a drive of about 100 minutes or so, give or take a few minutes. When we got home, we had to unload a bed, and we were both weary from the drive that the only storm prep we did was hit the package store in Berlin, Mass. on our way back. I picked up a 12-pack of Samuel Adams Winter Lager as well as a bottle of Barefoot Pinot Grigio for Jen.
I eventually did storm prep on Monday, which included filling jugs with water in the event the power went out, and at 7 a.m., I ventured out to our local Market Basket grocery store to pick up a few storm essentials--yes, including the bread and milk. I also picked up some bananas and coffee. Afterward, I published Travel Agent, to the joy of many. When Jen came home from school, we filled some buckets with water for flushing the toilet in case the power went out.
Just before we went to bed Monday, the storm began.
We found our south-facing windows frosted over when we awoke on Tuesday, and loads of snow outside. I found my sister-in-law's car practically buried, and while our cars weren't covered, there was plenty of snow building behind them.
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| My sister-in-law's car, buried. |
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| Looking out at the horse paddock beyond the blueberry bush. Can you imagine snow up to your hips? |
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| Jen's truck, the bed full of snow with more piling around it. |
We went out to feed the horses immediately. Walking to the paddock, the snow was already up to my knees at 7:30 a.m., but when we got into the paddock, the snow was nearly up to my hips. The snow just kept coming. The horses, luckily, were smart enough to stay at the shed while I trudged through it, making a path for Jen. I had to catch my breath before going back.
Jen and I simply stayed indoors as the storm raged outside. Jen's uncle came by with a front-end loader and plowed a good portion of the snow aside. We went out again at 4 p.m. to feed the boys, then came in. The storm seemingly stopped after 7 o'clock.
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| Jen's uncle, clearing snow mid-storm. |
Wednesday morning, we fed the boys, and then we started digging the cars out. I had our new car dug out in a couple of minutes, but the truck took a little longer. Jen drove them out, then we dug Bethany's car out, plus a path to the water troughs. Some time later, Jen's uncle came by again and plowed the rest, giving us room to turn the cars around and head down the driveway. There is still a little more shoveling to do, especially in front of my sister-in-law's apartment.
All told, we got quite a bit. The National Weather Service said Bolton received 26 inches of snow, while one town over received 36 inches. I think we got more than 36, but what do I know.
And now we have some snow coming Friday, and more Monday.
I am--well, my knees are--crying uncle.
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| The Diva Kitty and Ziggy Puff and unconcerned about weather events. |
OK, OK. Yes. NOW you may call me "Prolific"
I blogged a little while ago about authorial labels and why I'm pretty indifferent about them; if you want to call me a writer, call me a writer. If you want to call me an author, call me an author. Writers write, while authors are read. It really doesn't make a difference to me.
However, there's one authorial label that, over the course of my now 12-plus-year fiction-writing career, I have absolutely abhorred its usage in reference to my writing, and me in general.
And that word, ladies and gents, is prolific.
*suppresses a full body shiver*
No, don't worry about me. I'm OK. Really.
See, over the first 12 years or so, people have called me prolific because of my dedication to my craft: I write pretty much every day, for several hours, taking the words in the dictionary, re-arranging them into sentences, stacking those sentences into paragraphs, and those paragraphs into chapters. In 2011, I published six novels, pretty much one right after the other. It got to the point where I could upload to Amazon's KDP site blindfolded.
After I published Double Agent at the tail end of 2011, my friend Bill Gilman--who edited Literary Agent and had suggested the plot for Travel Agent--said, "OK, now you're bordering on prolific." At that point, I had published nine or ten books, not including short stories and novellas.
In 2013, after I released Redeemed, I went on Stephen Campbell's Murders, Mysteries, and Mayhem podcast, when the P word came up: Stephen said, "You're not just prolific; you are very prolific." I had to stop him, explaining my feelings.
I'll be honest: I've just never thought of myself as prolific. I thought of myself as a hard-working author looking to simply entertain my readers. That word, in my estimation, should be reserved for Kevin J. Anderson or R.A. Salvatore, or other authors who have churned out large amounts of fiction, their books considered doorstops. Me? I've gone over 100,000 words in a book maybe four times in my career. Maybe five? Anderson and Salvatore do that with regularity, and here I am, punching out 80,000-90,000 word stories. Of course, that builds up. Maybe one of these days, I'll add up all the words I've written--and I can guarantee you that it would only be a fraction of Kevin and Bob's totals. Yet I remind and bitch-slap myself: do NOT compare yourself to any author out there.
Well, there you go. As I sit here after publishing Travel Agent on Monday, my 20th novel, I think I can withstand people calling me prolific and not having my mind shut down from disbelief that my name and that word are used in the same sentence.
Go ahead, call me prolific. Call me someone who writes a lot. Call me someone who only hopes to entertain people, to give them an escape.
I don't mind any longer.
I. Am. Prolific.
And now if you'll excuse me... I have another book to write.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
However, there's one authorial label that, over the course of my now 12-plus-year fiction-writing career, I have absolutely abhorred its usage in reference to my writing, and me in general.
And that word, ladies and gents, is prolific.
*suppresses a full body shiver*
No, don't worry about me. I'm OK. Really.
See, over the first 12 years or so, people have called me prolific because of my dedication to my craft: I write pretty much every day, for several hours, taking the words in the dictionary, re-arranging them into sentences, stacking those sentences into paragraphs, and those paragraphs into chapters. In 2011, I published six novels, pretty much one right after the other. It got to the point where I could upload to Amazon's KDP site blindfolded.
After I published Double Agent at the tail end of 2011, my friend Bill Gilman--who edited Literary Agent and had suggested the plot for Travel Agent--said, "OK, now you're bordering on prolific." At that point, I had published nine or ten books, not including short stories and novellas.
In 2013, after I released Redeemed, I went on Stephen Campbell's Murders, Mysteries, and Mayhem podcast, when the P word came up: Stephen said, "You're not just prolific; you are very prolific." I had to stop him, explaining my feelings.
I'll be honest: I've just never thought of myself as prolific. I thought of myself as a hard-working author looking to simply entertain my readers. That word, in my estimation, should be reserved for Kevin J. Anderson or R.A. Salvatore, or other authors who have churned out large amounts of fiction, their books considered doorstops. Me? I've gone over 100,000 words in a book maybe four times in my career. Maybe five? Anderson and Salvatore do that with regularity, and here I am, punching out 80,000-90,000 word stories. Of course, that builds up. Maybe one of these days, I'll add up all the words I've written--and I can guarantee you that it would only be a fraction of Kevin and Bob's totals. Yet I remind and bitch-slap myself: do NOT compare yourself to any author out there.
Well, there you go. As I sit here after publishing Travel Agent on Monday, my 20th novel, I think I can withstand people calling me prolific and not having my mind shut down from disbelief that my name and that word are used in the same sentence.
Go ahead, call me prolific. Call me someone who writes a lot. Call me someone who only hopes to entertain people, to give them an escape.
I don't mind any longer.
I. Am. Prolific.
And now if you'll excuse me... I have another book to write.
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Authors Behaving Badly, Yet Again
It seems to me that there are some authors out there who just don't know how to behave when things don't go their way. A few months ago, I wrote about an author being a douchebag to their potential readers. There have been plenty of other well-documented cases of an author bitching out a reviewer because the author didn't send the final copy; it made the reviewer go viral, made him inundated with review requests.
Today, I'm writing about an author who threw a temper tantrum on Twitter because she wasn't nominated for a New York Times "100 Notable Books of 2014" list. Go read that for a few minutes.
Wow, huh?
Look, lady. We authors, traditionally published and indie, we all work hard. We all work with the ferocity of a wolverine, creating worlds over the course of months and sometimes years, only to have them gobbled up in a matter of hours or days. Sometimes word spreads of how good they are; sometimes, word spreads of how shit they are. We are not guaranteed success, or a spot in the New York Times, regardless of how many good reviews we get. You should know this. You are one of the authors New York has deemed fit to publish.
What did you hope to accomplish with your rant? Do you think that the New York Times is going to see this, take pity on you and put together a new list, or remember to put you on the next one? No, I highly doubt that's what will happen. I'm not going to come up with a hypothesis, either: I'm just going to work on my next book, something every author should be doing.
And they say that only indies don't know how to behave....
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
Today, I'm writing about an author who threw a temper tantrum on Twitter because she wasn't nominated for a New York Times "100 Notable Books of 2014" list. Go read that for a few minutes.
Wow, huh?
Look, lady. We authors, traditionally published and indie, we all work hard. We all work with the ferocity of a wolverine, creating worlds over the course of months and sometimes years, only to have them gobbled up in a matter of hours or days. Sometimes word spreads of how good they are; sometimes, word spreads of how shit they are. We are not guaranteed success, or a spot in the New York Times, regardless of how many good reviews we get. You should know this. You are one of the authors New York has deemed fit to publish.
What did you hope to accomplish with your rant? Do you think that the New York Times is going to see this, take pity on you and put together a new list, or remember to put you on the next one? No, I highly doubt that's what will happen. I'm not going to come up with a hypothesis, either: I'm just going to work on my next book, something every author should be doing.
And they say that only indies don't know how to behave....
www.seansweeneyauthor.com
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