sarah_prineas, author of the soon-to-be-blockbuster-not-to-mention-utterly-HAWESOME Magic Thief, has been blogging about publicity this week from the perspective of a new author being given significant push by her publisher. Her posts have been chockfull of good general information, and today's post on prepublication is no exception.

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Today's San Diego Tribune runs a feature on "writing coach" Midge Raymond, who holds workshops that include an opportunity for writers to shred their rejection letters.

They sat on couches and chairs in an airy East Village loft, sipping Starbucks. It could have been a writers' meeting anywhere, or maybe a book club, except for the unusual guest in the middle of the room.

A paper shredder.

The machine was there Monday night as a weapon, a way for the writers to fight back against one of the literary world's fiercest demons: rejection.

“We all learn about dialogue, about characterization, but nobody talks about rejection, about how to deal with it,” said Midge Raymond, a local author and writing coach who hosted the session.

Craziness. I have a big file drawer stuffed with rejection letters. I wouldn't think of shredding them. They are among my most valued possessions.

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mythusmage kindly pointed me to this very thorough review of Paper Cities: an Anthology of Urban Fantasy in Fantasy Book Critic, which not only says nice things about my story, but also gives my book some pre-pre-pre-publicity:

At only four pages “Ghost Market” gives new meaning to the term ‘short story’, but it’s an intriguing concept where inhaling ghosts is a form of drug dealing, and I think it would make a pretty interesting series. We’ll have to wait on that though because Greg’s first novel “Norse Code” (Bantam Dell) is “a mythic fantasy set in contemporary Los Angeles in which a minor Norse god, a modern valkyrie, and a Viking thug are pitted against the Norse pantheon in an attempt to stop Ragnarok, the long-ago foreseen destruction of the entire universe.”

Video showing a fan-built model of Neil Peart and his drum kit (circa "Grace Under Pressure"), made from whiskey bottle caps, tin can lids, and shishkabob skewers. I doff my tuque to the guy's craft and dedication.



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Commemorating another step in the process: Signing publishing contracts for Norse Code.

Shaq debuted with the Suns last night against the Lakers. I thought he looked good. He was moving well, hustling, diving on the floor for loose balls, and if he's not the dominant monster in the middle any more, he's still a monster. The Suns seemed out of sync with him in the offense, but they've only had a few practices together, and it'll take a while for them to get used to each other.

But, man, it's weird not rooting against Shaq. I used to hate Shaq. Now I'm laughing at all his press conference quips. Oh, that Shaq, he's a pistol!

Sports are so weird.

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I am angry. I am angry at my writing for not being better. I think it owes me.

Stupid writing. This synopsis is starting to get worse with each new draft.

Maybe if I change the font...

Oh, god, the coffee's not working. The coffee's not working!!

Dead flower edition, because I'm feeling emo:

Nothing's been formally scheduled yet, but my editor (whom I'm already adoring, btw) says Norse Code will probably be released in Summer '09. At least that's the current plan. In some ways that seems so far down the road, but I'm sure once I'm in the midsts of revisions and proofing and all that, it'll feel like an avalanche of activity crammed into a short span. So I'm still going to have to jam away on the current book.

Speaking of which, turning off the Internet this morning helped me hit page 50. For various reasons, I'm tending to think about this book in 50 page sections. The first 50 got my characters on stage and in motion and all obstacled up. Onward now to complications and hijinks and more obstaclization.



Oh, also, here're pictures of my socks, which are too damned to be darned. ( my socks )
Yes, I'm posting photos of my feet poking through my socks on the Internet. You're welcome.

Favorite Dad Quote of the Weekend:

"Anyway, about my pants. There's good news and there's bad news."

Not that anyone had been talking about his pants ...

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I just looked at the TV schedule and realized that today will be devoted to sitting on my ass and watching basketball. First up is San Antonio vs. Boston. It's a shame Garnett is hurt, but still, it's two teams that have a great shot at meeting in the Finals. After that, Lakers vs. Miami, in which we'll see a fired-up Shawn Marion, who just got traded from my Phoenix Suns for Shaquille O'Neal. Shawn's going to have something to prove, and I think he and D-Wade are going to combine nicely. Later, Denver vs. Cleveland. Not a big fan of either team, so I might skip this one, actually. And then Phoenix vs. Washington. Shaq won't be suited up yet, and we'll be without Marion, so the Suns are going to have to gut-up and hope to get some play out of Boris Diaw, who seems to have become frightened of the rim. It's a shame, because with his size and skills he has the potential to be awesome. Come on, Boris! Be awesome!

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I've been looking forward to seeing sales notices about my book in Publishers Marketplace and Locus, largely because then I'd get to see how paid professionals describe my book. Because when people have asked me to describe my book, it's always gone something like this: "Uh, it's got gods and some stuff about DNA and the end of the world. It's my damn Norse novel."

Not a stellar elevator pitch.

But I got asked for a description for SFScope, and I had to provide something, so this is what I came up with:

A mythic fantasy in which a minor Norse god, a modern valkyrie, and a Viking thug are pitted against the Norse pantheon in an attempt to stop Ragnarok, the long-ago foreseen destruction of the entire universe. It takes place in contemporary Los Angeles and in many locales from Norse mythology.

Not terrible, maybe a bit long, and I'm still looking forward to seeing what people who describe books professionally come up with.

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Oh, and this was how the conversation about the book with my dad began on Friday.

Dad: Whatever happened to that book you were trying to sell?
Me: I sold it.
(beat)
Dad: How much money did you get?