Some writers--I'm not naming names--inundate their potential readers with unceasing barrages of self-promotion. I have more respect for my dozens of readers than to do that. Worst Enemies has received flattering notices from both Leighton Gage (Vine in the Blood) and Benjamin Sobieck (Cleansing Eden); those have been duly noted without beating anyone over the head with them.
Wild Bill was pimped at least once a week when it came out. (And is still available here for a paltry $2.99.) My efforts on behalf of Worst Enemies have not been so substantial. Why is that? The Great Computer Meltdown of 2012 has something to do with it. All my writing and online efforts have suffered a production dip the past couple of weeks.
Do I not feel as strongly about Worst Enemies? Au contraire. (As The Sole Heir can point out, that's French for "Are you shitting me?") I think Worst Enemies is even better than Wild Bill. Sure, every author says that. "You thought my last book was good! Ha! This new book can kick its ass in the dark. On a skating rink. With a plastic bag over its head. It's that good." Don't take my word for it;. read what Messers Gage and Sobieck have to say.
The truth is, I'm spent. Every bit of creativity I had on the subjects covered in Worst Enemies went into the book. There's nothing left. I'm drained. Everything I have is on the (virtual) page, waiting for you to take it all in for the minimal investment of $2.99. That's less than three bucks for a peek into--not a year of my boring life--but the lives of fictional people far more interesting than I. My boring life I give away for free on Facebook. These people actually do things, like kill people and have sex and engage in witty banter. And it's all yours for three bucks.
Okay. I've done what I can. See you next week.
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