by Brett Battles

The problem with not being able to do my Murderati farewell post until late in the month is that much of what I would normally say has already been said. At the risk of repeating at least a portion of what others have written, I owe JT a debt of gratitude for asking me to be a part of something great…something that has become an institution. And to the rest of the then current member—most prominently, Pari—my undying thanks also for backing the idea of asking me to join.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted here. I believe the last time was last summer when I guest posted about my jump into the independent publishing world. When I first started with Murderati, I was a traditionally published author with, I believe, two books out. My career was looking up and I was just about to take the step into full time writing. Actually, the span from my traditional publishing life through the independent phase of my career clearly demonstrate the vast changes in the publishing industry Murderati has been around to witness and report on.

Looking back through all the post here—and by no means am I talking about just mine—is like taking a walk through living history. The ups, the downs, the highs, the lows, the triumphs, the uncertainty, the just plain excitement of being published. It’s all there. And I am so grateful for having been able to be a part of it.

Of course, the most important part of Murderati has never been those of us who were writing the posts. It was all of you—the readers and commenters who helped create this wonderful community. I personally want to thank you all so much.

I’m glad to hear an archive of the Murderati posts are going to remain up and accessible. If nothing else, some future grad student could use the info found here to write a pretty damn good research paper. Hell, maybe even a book. Not that we know anything about books here.

As I write this, I have a glass of beer beside my computer. Really, I do. Let me take a moment, raise it in the air, and say, “Thank you Murderati, every damn one of you. To remembering the past, while forging ever forward!”

by Brett Battles

As I mentioned two weeks ago, today is my last post as a Murderati regular. I have had a wonderful stay. The fantastic crew of authors, the wonderful readers and conversation contributors, you’ve all made this an excellent place to call home.

My departure has not come without thought. In fact, it’s taken many months of internal deliberations. But workload, focus, quality of ideas have all played a part in this decision. I’m writing more than I ever have before, and I don’t see that letting up anytime soon. I have so many stories I want to write, so many characters I want to bring to life, so many little moments I want to describe. But to really do that, I need to redirect my time and focus into these areas, and stepping aside so you can meet someone new, and discover things I would not be able to show you.

Pari and JT, you are the backbone—the soul—of Murderati, and I can’t thank you enough for asking me to be a part of it. JT, our bond is deep and long…Killer Year forever.

Zoë, my Thursday mate, it’s been great sharing the day with you, and spending a little time with you when you and Andy visited L.A. You are an original in the best of all ways.

J.D., I still remember when we—along with your beautiful wife—were waiting at the airport after Bouchercon in Madison, sharing stories and laughing. As much as I was exhausted and wanted to get on my plane and go home, the time passed too quickly.

Alafair, that picture from the party at Mystery Bookstore’s LA Times Festival of Books party a few years ago is still one of my favorites! And I still laugh about that time I was too nervous to even talk to you.

Louise, you continue to be an inspiration…not just to me, but to the whole extended Murderati family. You are so much stronger than you even know.

Tess, your quote graces the cover of my debut novel, and as much as I am eternally grateful for that, what I remember most was an email you sent me while you were reading it. Me, a still to be published author, and you telling me that you were on tour but also in the middle of reading my book and “loving it!” I’m not sure my feet have touched the ground yet.

Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve. We have been good friends for more than twenty years now…dorm life, film school, astronomy class with a teacher who had a few too many on finals day…a gap…then a reconnection before the release of BEAT. A reconnection that has meant the world to me.

Alex, from the very first Thrillerfest to today, seeing you in the crowd always makes me smile. You’re a haven of light.

Cornelia…we have traveled a similar road. We have shared tears high above I-don’t-know which city. We have an understanding for which few words are needed. I am here for you, as I know you are there for me.

Allison, you’re energy, your spirit, your drive in the face of everyday life is to be more than simply admired. You are gifted on so many levels, and I’m glad to call you friend.

David and P.D. as I’m sure you’ve already found, you’ve landed someplace special. My only advice is to have fun.

And to a few Murderati of the past—Rob, I know enough to not say anything nice about you…well, except to say you have become a great friend; Toni, I haven’t seen you in person in years, I miss you, I miss your stories, I miss your laugh and your smile. You brighten things wherever you go; and Ken, your words are amazing, and your heart is huge. It’s always a privilege just being around you.

And finally, to you, the members of the Murderati community, you are the reason we are all or have been a part of this blog. There are not enough words to thank you properly, so I’ll merely say, “Thanks,” and hope you know what I mean.

Okay. All that said, it’s not like I’m completely disappearing. I’m sure you’ll see me in the comments, and, hopefully, my friends here will allow me back now and then to let you know how things are going.

If you’d like to bookmark my personal blog where I sporadically post news click here…no pressure, though.

Until I see you again…

by Brett Battles

After reading Tess’s and JD’s posts from the previous 2 days, I thought about changing what I was going to share with you today. I mean, after all, it’s definitely BSP, and after the important topics we’ve been discussing here, I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

Two things stopped me. First, one of the secondary themes of the book I wanted to tell you about is bullying, and second, this is my penultimate post as a Murderati regular, so what better time to discuss it? In view of all this, I hope you’ll forgive the BSP… 

Unlike the other two books I’ve mentioned lately, the book I just released is a little different. HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE is my first foray into the world of younger readers. Technically I think it would be considered a cross between middle school and tween genres, but in reality can be enjoyed by anyone 10 and up.

It’s a mix of reality and my own brand of mythology, with humor, suspense, and more than a couple scary moments thrown in. Oh yeah, and thrills, too. I can’t get away from that.

I can’t tell you how much fun this was to write. I’ve wanted to work in the middle school/YA market for a while. Part of it is because I read and love the genre books, but probably the biggest reason is that my kids are in that reading group. I think some of the most innovative and interesting work is being done for readers 20 and under.

To say MR. TROUBLE holds a very special place in my heart, would be an understatement. Here’s a bit about the book:

ARE YOU LOSING THINGS?

ARE PEOPLE YOU KNOW ACTING STRANGE?

IS SOMEONE CLOSE TO YOU MISSING???

DO YOU FEEL LIKE THINGS ARE BEYOND YOUR CONTROL?

ARE YOU IN…TROUBLE?

When Eric Morrison sees the advertisement, he doesn’t know which is more surprising—the ad’s sudden appearance or the fact that his answer to every question is YES!

Not only can’t he find things, but the bullies at school are suddenly picking on him for no reason, and, worse yet, his mother has disappeared but he seems to be the only one who’s noticed. Even his best friend Maggie thinks he’s only run into a little bad luck.

But if Eric thinks his life is upside down now, it’s nothing compared to what’s about to happen when Mr. Trouble and the Trouble family arrive to assist him in solving his problems.

One thing’s for sure—Eric will never see the world in the same way again.

If that caught your interest, I guarantee what you’ll find is a wild ride that you’ll enjoy no matter how old you are. Currently it’s available as an ebook, priced at $2.99 from all the normal outlets (links below). By the end of the month a trade paperback version will also be available through Amazon.com.

If I could ask your help…MR. TROUBLE may not necessarily be for you, but you may know someone who might enjoy it. I grateful request is that if you could, please pass the information about the book on to them.

It’s a great story with wonderful characters, and, yes, I know I’m biased. But I truly believe this.

Here are those promised links:

HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE in the Amazon Kindle Store

HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE in the Barnes & Noble Nook Store

HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE at Smashwords.com

HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE in the Amazon UK Kindle Store

And if you’d like to read more, here’s the first chapter:

1

It started with a guuuuuuurgly suuuuuuuck.

Eric Morrison twisted around, trying to see what had caused the noise.

“Are you going to just sit there all afternoon?”

He would have sworn the sound had come from the other side of the classroom, but he didn’t see anything over there that could have caused it.

Please tell me I’m not hearing things, too.

As he started to turn back around, someone punched him in his arm. “Hey, are you ignoring me?”

He glanced over his shoulder. Maggie Ortega was standing right next to his desk. He’d been concentrating so hard on the gurgly suck he hadn’t heard her walk up.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked, rubbing the spot where she’d hit him.

She stared at him over the top of her glasses as if he’d lost his mind. “The bell? It went off like two minutes ago. You’re usually the first one out the door.”

Eric glanced at the clock hanging at the back of the classroom. Two fifty-two p.m. School was out. How had he missed that?

“Thanks,” he said. He gathered his books and started shoving them in his backpack. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

She looked down at him for a few seconds, then said, “What’s wrong with you?”

What’s not? “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting all weird for days now. Stop it. I don’t like it.”

“No, I haven’t,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you have,” she said, heading for the door.

She was right and Eric knew it. He had been acting weird, but given what was going on, how else was he supposed to act?

“Everything all right back there?” Mrs. Bernhardi asked from her desk at the front of the room. She was their sixth-period English teacher.

“Yeah. Fine,” he said as he stood up.

“Eric, I expect you to have your essay in on time next Monday. It’s not like you to fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Like he needed that reminder. Still, just like Maggie a few seconds earlier, Mrs. Bernhardi was also right. It wasn’t like him.

He was a good student who always got his work in on time in the past. But for the last two weeks, even though he was sure he’d put his finished assignments in his backpack, when it came time to turn them in, they weren’t there. Math, history, English—it didn’t matter.

It almost felt like he was going crazy.

Actually, maybe not almost, he thought. If I am going crazy, that would explain everything.

“Hurry up!” Maggie called from the doorway.

“Have a nice afternoon,” Mrs. Bernhardi said.

“You, too,” Eric replied quickly, then headed for the door.

The main corridor of Valley View Middle School was nearly deserted as they headed toward the front exit.

“Come on, come on,” Maggie said.

“If you’re in a hurry, don’t let me hold you back,” Eric said. “I’ll just see you tomorrow.”

She whirled around, stopping right in front of him. “Tomorrow? What do you mean tomorrow?”

“I’m just saying, if you need to be somewhere, I don’t want to be the one who makes you late. I know you hate that.”

She did hate it, but that wasn’t the real reason Eric was urging her to go on without him. Unlike the rush she seemed to be in, he definitely was not in a hurry. Chances were there’d be another one of the Neanderthals waiting to mess with him on his walk home. It had been happening almost every day lately, since about the same time he’d started forgetting his homework.

Plus there was another reason he wasn’t anxious to get going. Eric really didn’t want to be at his house at all, not if it meant opening his front door again and finding out his mother was still gone. It would be the fourth day in a row.

His dad had told him she’d gone on a business trip, like it was a normal event, and had been completely unconcerned about the fact she hadn’t said goodbye to either of them before she left. But it wasn’t normal. Not even close. And skipping goodbyes? No way.

Eric’s mom worked at a small beauty salon in town. She didn’t go on vacations, let alone business trips. “Time away means time we’re losing money. And we can’t afford that.” How many times had he heard her say that?

“Have you forgotten what we’re supposed to do today?” Maggie asked.

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Eric turned his head, trying once more to pinpoint where the odd noise was coming from. “Did you hear that?” he asked. It sounded both distant and right around the corner.

“Hear what?”

“That sound.”

“What sound? I didn’t hear anything.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You’re just trying to distract me, aren’t you? Well, that’s not going to happen. We agreed to go to the library this afternoon to work on our China report, remember? Now, come on.”

The China report. Right.

She took off down the hallway at a pace that was more a run than a walk. After a deep breath, Eric started after her.

• • •

The Tobin City Library was a single-story building about three times larger than Eric’s house. It was only six blocks from the school so the walk didn’t take them long. But because they had gotten a late start—Eric’s fault, as Maggie pointed out several times on the way over—the only open table when they got there was the one nearest the librarian counter.

“Great,” Maggie said as she dropped her bag on top.

Mrs. Kim, the head librarian, looked over, one eyebrow arched high into her forehead. “Shhhh!”

Mrs. Kim was the reason no one wanted that particular table. She could hear everything you said. The second you started goofing around she would “Shhhh” you and remind you that if you weren’t there to study, you were welcome to leave.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kim,” Maggie said, glaring at Eric.

As soon as they sat down, Maggie pulled a thick folder of loose papers out of her bag and slid it across the table to him.

“You’re responsible for the part about the Great Wall,” she said.

Eric picked up the folder. “What is this?”

“Research I printed out from the Internet last night.”

He looked at a couple of the pages. “You printed all this out last night?”

She sat back. “Well, given the way you’ve been acting lately, I knew you weren’t going to do it.”

He ignored that and asked, “Why am I responsible for the Great Wall? Aren’t we supposed to decide who does what together?”

She stared at him, her face blank.

After a moment, he said, “Fine. I’ll take the Great Wall.” He thought about asking what she was going to work on but was afraid she might snap at him again, so he said nothing and glanced through the pages instead.

“You’re going to have to read them,” Maggie said.

“I know. I’m just trying to get an idea of what’s here.”

She scowled, pulled out another equally thick folder and started going through it.

After twenty minutes, Eric leaned back and rubbed his eyes. He’d only made it about a third of the way through the folder but he was seriously thinking about skipping the rest. He was sure he already had more than enough information. The only problem was Maggie. Since she’d taken the time to print everything out, she probably expected him to read it all.

He gave his eyes one more rub, then opened them. As annoying as it was, he was probably going to have to—

He suddenly became aware that there was someone sitting in the chair next to him. He turned his head just enough so he could see who it was and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Filling the chair beside him was the six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-who-knew-how-many-pound solid body of terror known as Peter Garr. That was his legal name, anyway. To most of the kids at school he was known as King of the Jerks.

In the two weeks since Eric had become the victim of choice for after-school intimidation, the one guy who hadn’t bothered with him yet was Peter Garr. Apparently, that was about to change.

With his oily blond hair hanging partially over his face, Peter sneered long and hard at Eric, then opened a car magazine that was sitting on the table and started looking through it.

I didn’t even hear him sit down.

With a shudder, he returned to Maggie’s printouts. But the words refused to cooperate and he soon found himself reading the same sentence over and over and over.

Focus!

Just as Eric was starting to relax enough to understand what was on the page, Peter set a meaty hand on the table. He flexed his fingers then curled them into a fist as he turned his head just enough so that he could look Eric in the eye.

Eric wanted to turn away but Peter’s stare held him in place.

The corner of Peter’s mouth inched upward and he began a laugh so low that Eric almost didn’t hear it. It was nearly half a minute before he turned back to his magazine.

“What are you doing?” Maggie asked. “You can’t be done yet.”

Had she not seen what just happened?

“Nothing. I was just…never mind.” He returned his attention to the folder, but just as he started to read a new page he heard the noise again.

Guuuuu–

His head snapped around, scanning the area behind him. It was close. So very close.

–uuuuuuuuuuuu–

But there was nothing there.

–uuuuuuurrr–

He looked back at Maggie. “Tell me you hear it now,” he said, his voice raised so he could be heard over the sound.

–rrrgly suuuuuu–

“Quiet,” Maggie whispered, her eyes wide.

“You hear it, right?”

–uuuuuuuuuck.

“Why are you talking so loud?”

“Shhh,” Mrs. Kim said from behind the counter.

“Yeah. Shut up,” Peter said beside him in an oddly monotone voice.

Eric turned and looked back again. It had to be there somewhere. But all he could see were bookcases.

Must be in one of the aisles.

He pushed himself out of his chair.

“Where are you going?” Maggie asked.

Peter looked at him as if he was interested in the answer, too.

“The sound,” Eric said.

“What sound?” she asked.

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

 “That sound.”

Peter, who had been obviously listening to their conversation, narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t quite understand what Eric was talking about but thought he should.

Maggie shrugged. “The only thing making any noise is you.”

“Shhhhhh,” Mrs. Kim commanded.

Eric shook his head. “Never mind.”

If he was right, the sound was coming from just the other side of the nearest bookcase.

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

He walked around it and stopped at the end of the aisle.

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

No question about it. The gurgly suck was coming from somewhere down there and it seemed to be speeding up. But he couldn’t see anything that could be causing it.

Cautiously, he entered the aisle.

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

When he’d gone halfway down the row, the sound grew so loud he had to put his hands over his ears just to think straight. He looked back the way he’d come, expecting to see a crowd of people gathered there wondering what was making all the racket, but there was no one.

Was he really the only person who could hear it?

He peered through the bookcase back at the table where he’d been sitting. Maggie was writing something in her notebook and Peter appeared engrossed in his magazine. Behind them, Mrs. Kim sat quietly at her desk using the scanner to check in books. If anyone should have heard the noise, it would have been her. Her hearing was scary good.

But she showed no reaction at all. None of them did.

It’s just like everything else that’s been going on. I’m the only one it’s happening to.

The thought that he was going crazy crossed his mind again.

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Eric whipped around in surprise, the noise right behind him. But as he turned, his foot caught on the carpet and sent him banging into the bookcase.

“Shhhh!” Mrs. Kim said. “If you can’t be quiet, then you’ll have to leave.”

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrrgly suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

It was so close Eric felt he could almost reach out and touch it.

Gurgly. Gurgly. Gurgly. Suck. Suck. Suck. Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Then, though he knew it was impossible, the air moved.

Not like a breeze you could feel. He could actually see it. It was like an inflating balloon expanding toward him.

As the last of the sucking sound faded, the air jiggled then collapsed back to normal.

Eric reached out and put his hand through the area where it had been. There was nothing there.

Had he been seeing things? Had he–

Gurgly. Gurgly. Gurgly. Suck. Suck. Suck. Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

The air bubble shot out again, coming straight at him. He fell backwards onto the floor but it stopped just inches from where he’d been standing and hovered there. As he scrambled back to his feet, he could see it wasn’t round like he’d initially thought. It was more like a box—a foot long, maybe a little less than that wide, and about two inches thick—but definitely a box.

Once more it snapped back and disappeared.

Eric reached out again, this time halting just short of where the box had been.

Gurgly. Gurgly. Gurgly. Suck. Suck. Suck. Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

The air rushed out so quickly it knocked into his fingers before he could pull them away. What he saw had to have been an illusion. There was something solid inside, something definitely not, well, air-like.

Gurgly. Gurgly. Gurgly. Gurgly. Gurgly. Gurgly.

The box pushed out further.

Suck. Suck. Suck. Suck. Suck. Suck.

It was sticking out at least three feet from where it had started, warping the air around it. Then the box began to vibrate up and down, up and down, up and down. Faster and faster and faster.

Gurgly. Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu–

SNAP!

The air split open and the whole building began to shake.

As Eric grabbed the bookcase so he wouldn’t fall down, he could hear yelps of surprise from the other side.

Then, when the shaking reached its height, a book shot out from the rip in the air.

The moment it landed on the ground at Eric’s feet, the gurgly suck stopped.

• • • • 

Things only get wilder from there! Thanks for giving me a little bit of your time. 

By Brett Battles

Photos by Mari Deno

Okay, so you’ve written a book and decided you’re not going to look for a publisher and will it publish yourself as an ebook…or…you’ve written a book, shopped it around but while you might have had a few nibbles, no bites, so you’re going to publish it yourself as an ebook. Easy, right? Just upload it and it’s done.

Wrong. I think many independent authors (not all) try to take short cuts, and think all they have to do is upload their book and that’s it. That’s not it. Not even close.

As an independent author, what you need to do is think of yourself as a publishing house. And by that, I mean just because you’ve finished writing the book doesn’t mean it’s ready.

First step…story editing. This could mean hiring a professional editor (especially advised for those who have never been published before, but when looking for one shop around and get recommendations), or finding some other means of getting the feedback you need. For me, I have a group of trusted, savvy, and insightful readers who read my book and give me detailed feedback. The group contains several respected published writers, and others whose opinions I trust.

Okay, that’s done. Next: a cover. The rule of thumb here is: You get what you pay for. So if you want a cover that looks professional and will draw the attention of potential reader instead of turning them off, be prepared to pay for it. And trust me, it’s worth it.

But wait, your book’s still not ready. There is a vital step that cannot be skipped. You need (need, need, need, need, need) to have someone copyedit/proofread your manuscript. And I’m not just talking about finding someone who isn’t doing anything at the moment, and having them look for errors.

Good copyediting and proofreading are skills that only a small percentage of people have. I don’t have it. Never have, never will. So I’m lucky to have someone who excels at this who I can go to when I have a manuscript that is ready for this step.

I’d like to introduce you to her today. Meet my professional copyeditor and renowned Edit Ninja, Elyse Dinh-McCrillis.

BRETT: Okay, Elyse, first question: Why torture yourself copyediting other people’s material? I know that would drive me MAD! (Of course, as you well know having worked on a couple of my books now, I would suck at it.)

ELYSE: It’s much more torturous for me to read books full of errors! When I was younger, whenever I saw a mistake in a book/magazine/newspaper, I’d let out a full-throated ARGHHH! a la Charlie Brown when the football is yanked away. People in the room with me would say, “Why don’t you do something about it?” So I did. I like to think I’m helping put better books out into the world and preventing readers like me from the same kind of aggravation.

B: When did you first realize this was a skill you had?

E: I wrote for my high school paper and my journalism teacher said I was the only student who always turned in perfectly clean copy. I was compulsive about proofing my own work because I never wanted to look like a moron due to some stupid typo. My teacher named me features editor and I found I had a knack for telling others what to do editing other people’s work, too.

I also read a lot and retain much of it (do not flash your credit card numbers around me). I think it’s important to not only know the guidelines of grammar and style, but also be aware of pop culture and current events. A sharp editor would know there’s no such thing as a Mazda CRX, that sixty-six Americans were originally taken hostage in Iran but only fifty-two were held for 444 days, that the non-lightsaber weapons in Star Wars are called blasters, not guns. These may not be earth-shattering mistakes but you never now who might find them important.

B: Doesn’t everyone know they’re blasters? Oh…God…I’m a nerd, aren’t I? Anyway, you obviously enjoy doing it enough that you do it professionally. So, have you seen a psychiatrist lately? And if not perhaps one of our Murderati readers can recommend one to you. (Is my bias for how much I would personally hate being a copyeditor showing?)

E: Ha! Funny that you mention therapy because I think part of my job is being a therapist to my clients. I’ve spent hours on the phone with writers who are certain they can’t finish their book or they’ve written the worst book in the history of man. I talk to them and ask questions to help them figure out how to fix their problem areas. It’s quite satisfying for me when they achieve that breakthrough. That’s not to say I’m touchy-feely. If you’re just whining, I don’t have patience for that.

B: Joking aside, I cannot express how grateful I am for the work done by a good copyeditor, and in my case, that’s you. You have saved me from embarrassing myself multiple times in SICK and HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE. So I want to publicly thank you for that! Thank you.

E: Thank you for trusting me with your manuscript babies. You make my job a lot easier by writing thrilling stories. Plus you pay me and that’s cool, too.

B: Wait…are you implying you’d do it for free? Probably not, right? Okay, so why don’t you tell us a little bit about the process, how you work with authors, and what authors should expect from you?

E: The process is tedious so I should probably say something interesting like, “Well, Brett, it involves Samoan masseuses and corn” but that might confuse your readers. The real answer is, my fee includes fixes in grammar and style, rephrasing of awkward sentences, comments to help you fix weak spots, and fact-checking. Turnaround is about two weeks for a full-length ms, but I can do it faster if you have a specific deadline. If I’m doing developmental editing, I’m available for phone consultations and minor therapy as mentioned above. I’m not a licensed doctor, though, so you might have to sign a waiver releasing me from liability if you suddenly develop a drinking problem.

B: I know I have things I screw up all the time. In fact I have a list on my wall to remind me to check for some specific types of errors when I finish a manuscript. (It’s true, taped to the wall next to the kitchen.) What are some of the common mistakes you see authors repeating all the time?

E: Lie vs. lay, dangling modifiers, the misplacement of “only” in a sentence (“I only have one dollar” and “I have only one dollar” do not mean the same thing), i.e. vs. e.g., possessive pronouns vs. contractions, less vs. fewer, and redundancy (“I thought to myself,” “I rushed quickly through the door,” etc.). I guess that last one isn’t a mistake, it just annoys me.

B: Any pet peeves?

E: When potential clients want to pay me only $8-10 an hour and say that’s the going rate on Craigslist. I say go back to Craigslist and good luck.

E: HA! Good one. I refer readers back to the “get what you pay for” statement I made above about covers. Applies here, too. If an author is interested in hiring you, is there someplace they can go to find out more information about your services?

E: The Edit Ninja website.

B: Ooooh. Spiffy! Anything else you’d like to add?

E: I think there’s a misconception that editors are sticklers for rules. I’m not. As long as your language serves your story, I don’t care if you coin new words or end your sentences in prepositions. But if your style starts distracting from your story then it needs adjustment. I think astute readers can tell the difference between someone who flouts grammatical conventions intentionally and someone who doesn’t know what they are.

B: Thanks for spending a little time with us today, Elyse. I love hearing your insights.

Let me just say to everyone, if you’re a writer in need of a copyeditor, I couldn’t recommend Elyse more. The only thing I worry about is that too many people will start using her services and she won’t have time for me when I need her. Seriously though, if you have a book in need of copyediting contact Elyse. You’ll be very happy with the results.

Now, if you have some questions you’d like to ask Elyse—specific or vague or completely off topic—fire away. Elyse will be checking in all day.

by Brett Battles

At some point today, SICK should be available in the Kindle store both in the U.S. and the U.K., at barnesandnoble.com, and at smashwords.com. In celebration of that, thought I’d give you a taste from the beginning:

A cry woke him from his sleep.

A young cry.

A girl’s cry.

Daniel Ash pushed himself up on his elbow. “Josie?”

It was more a question for himself than anything. His daughter’s room was down the hall, making it hard for her to hear his sleep filled voice in the best of circumstances. And if she was crying, not a chance.

He glanced at the other side of the bed, thinking his wife might already be up checking on their daughter. But Ellen was still asleep, her back to him. He’d all but forgotten about the headache she’d had, and the two sleeping pills she’d taken before turning in. Chances were, she wouldn’t even open her eyes until after the kids left for school.

Ash rubbed a hand across his face, then slipped out of bed.

The old hardwood floor was cool on his feet, but not unbearable. He grabbed his t-shirt off the chair in the corner, and pulled it on as he walked into the hallway.

A cry again. Definitely coming from his daughter’s room.

“Josie, it’s okay. I’m coming.” This time he raised his voice so he was sure she would hear him.

As he passed his son’s room, he pulled the door closed so Brandon wouldn’t wake, too.

Josie’s room was at the other end of the hall, closest to the living room. She was the oldest, so she got to pick which room she wanted when they’d moved in. It wasn’t any bigger than her brother’s, but Ash knew she liked the fact that she was as far away from mom and dad as possible. Made her feel independent.

Her door was covered with pictures of boy bands and cartoons—she was in that transitional stage between kid and teenager that was both cute and annoying. As he pushed the door open, he expected to find her sitting on her bed, upset about some nightmare she’d had. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Josie, what’s—”

His words caught in his mouth.

She wasn’t lying in the bed. She was on the floor, the bedspread hanging down just enough to touch her back. Ash rushed over thinking that she’d fallen and hurt herself. But the moment his hand touched her he knew he was wrong.

She was so hot. Burning up.

He had no idea a person could get that hot.

The most scared he’d ever been before had been when he’d taken Brandon to a boat show in Texas, and the boy had wandered off. It took Ash less than a minute to find him again, but he thought nothing would ever top the panic and fear he’d felt then.

Seeing his daughter like that, feeling her skin burning, he realized he’d been wrong.

He scooped Josie off the floor, and ran into the hallway.

“Ellen!” he yelled. “Ellen, I need you!”

He knew his voice was probably going to wake Brandon, but, at this point, he didn’t care. Josie was sick. Very sick. He needed Ellen to call an ambulance while he tried to bring their daughter’s temperature down.

“Ellen!” he yelled again as he ducked into the bathroom.

Using an elbow he flipped on the light, then laid Josie in the tub. He wasted several seconds searching for the rubber plug, then jammed it into the drain, and turned on the water, full cold. To help speed up the process, he pulled the shower knob, and aimed the showerhead so that it would stream down on her, and cool her faster.

Where the hell was Ellen?

He put the back of his palm on Josie’s forehead. She was still on fire.

“Ellen!”

He was torn. He wanted to stay with Josie, but the pills Ellen had taken must have really knocked her out, so that meant it was up to him to get help.

“Hang on, baby,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He raced into the hall and back to the master bedroom. The nearest phone was on Ellen’s nightstand, next to their bed.

“Ellen. Wake up.”

He shook her once, then picked up the phone, and dialed 911. As he waited for it to ring, he glanced back at the bed.

Ellen hadn’t moved.

“911. What is your emergency?” a female voice said.

He reached down, and rolled Ellen onto her back, thinking that might jar her awake. But her eyes were already open, staring blankly at nothing.

He flipped on the light. The skin around her mouth and her eyes was turning black, and there were dark, drying streaks running across her face from her eye sockets where blood had flowed.

“911. What is your emergency?”

“Oh, God. Help,” he managed to say.

“Are you hurt, sir?”

He touched Ellen’s face. It was as cold as Josie’s had been hot.

“Send help! Send help, please!”

And that is just the start. If you’d like to read more, you’ll be able to download a longer sample at the sites where it’s for sale. Or you can just buy the whole thing for $2.99.

I’m pretty jazzed about SICK, but I’m biased. So here’s what Elyse at popculturenerd.com has to say: “Like a fever, SICK makes you sweat and keeps you up all night, wondering what the hell is happening. It’ll make your heart race like someone shot you with an EpiPen. You think Battles was badass before? He just cranked it up to 500 joules. CLEAR!” I probably owe her a few bucks for that quote.

So, what did you think? Intrigued? Not? Something you’d want to read more of?

Get SICK for the Kindle here!

Get SICK for the Nook here!

Get SICK at Smashwords.com in most formats here!

By Brett Battles

Okay, so today is actually my birthday. True story, I was born 6 minutes to midnight, so 6 minutes shy of April Fools Day (not that there is anything wrong with that for any of you celebrating tomorrow.) My dad actually heard two cries, one before midnight and one after, and thought that my mom had had twins. In the rush to make sure I wasn’t born on April 1st (apparently the doctor thought that was a bad thing), clamps were used, and my head was a bit pair shaped for a few hours…insert “so that’s what happened” jokes here.

Anyway, I’ve been so busy, I almost forgot it was my birthday. Why? Well, next week t the new Quinn novel THE SILENCED hits stores, and I’m on a mini tour for that, but it’s not the only new book I have out. In fact, it’s the other one, plus a couple short stories I want to talk to you about today…all three of which are available now.

Like my friend and fellow Murderati Dusty, I have jumped into the world of electronic self-publishing. Firmly. Last week I released two short stories and a brand new novel, and those are just the start of more to come.

Let’s talk novel first:

LITTLE GIRL GONE is the first in a new series featuring a troubled man named Logan Harper.

Logan isn’t looking for redemption. He just wants to live in peace and forget his troubled past. But one morning his quiet life is upended when he interrupts the attempted murder of his father’s best friend Tooney.

The next thing Logan knows, he’s on his way to Los Angeles, searching for Tooney’s missing granddaughter and uncovering a sinister plot connected not only to Tooney’s Burmese past, but also to the boardrooms of corporate America.

As the odds stack up against him, Logan must fall back on old skills from the life he’d rather forget. He’s made a promise, and the only way to fulfill it is to bring the girl home alive.

You can get LITTLE GIRL GONE for only 2.99 at the Amazon Kindle Store, BarnesandNoble.com, Smashwords, and, in the UK for £2.12, the Amazon UK Kindle Store.

I’ve also recorded myself reading the first chapter, had have embedded the player here:

I really enjoyed writing Logan, and look forward to created more stories featuring him and the cast of characters around him. And a quick thanks to Jeroen ten Berge—the same designer who Dusty uses—on the awesome cover art!

On the short story front…

JUST ANOTHER JOB – A Jonathan Quinn Story, is a glimpse into the life of a cleaner, a man who works in the shadows.

Not everyone who gets shot is supposed to be shot. And those who are shot don’t always die right away. It’s not Quinn’s job to kill people, but it is his job to clean them up. Sometimes, though, they’re not quite ready to go.

JUST ANOTHER JOB is only .99 at the Amazon Kindle Store, BarnesandNoble.com, Smashwords, and, in the UK for £0.70, the Amazon UK Kindle Store.

Cool cover by our own Robert Gregory Browne. Thanks, Rob!

PERFECT GENTLEMAN, a tale of a different kind of family.

The girls call Wade Norris, “Papa.”

He’s not their dad. He’s not their uncle. He’s not even related to them. In fact, he was born thousands of miles from the Philippines, the place he now calls home.

No, Wade’s none of those things. He’s their Papasan. He runs the go-go bar where the girls dance and entertain. But that doesn’t make them any less than a family.

And rule number one: don’t mess with the family.

PERFECT GENTLEMAN originally appeared in the KILLER YEAR: STORIES TO DIE FOR anthology edited by Lee Child.

You can purchase PERFECT GENTLEMAN for only .99 at the Amazon Kindle Store, BarnesandNoble.com, Smashwords, and, in the UK for £0.70, the Amazon UK Kindle Store. (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Perfect-Gentleman/dp/B004TGUD5I)

Once more, Rob did the cover.

What better way to celebrate my birthday than to pick up one (or all three) of these? Okay, that’s blatant pandering, but it was too funny to resist.

These are just the beginning. I have another full length novel which will be out before the end of April, and be warned, it is a heart stopper! I’m also planning on releasing the first book in my new YA series HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE around the same time. And there will be more short stories and novels before the years out.

Why have I chosen this route? For one reason, I write a lot, and things have just been stockpiling much to my annoyance. But now with the freedom that self-publishing offers, I no longer have to wait a year or more before a book comes out after I finish it. For another, I like being the one in charge instead of the alternative. And I love the idea that I can write what I want and not worry if someone thinks it won’t do well, so it shouldn’t be published, or will be under-published, etc. I was as stunned as most of you were by Barry Eislers announcement last week on Joe Konrath’s blog. Stunned, yes, but not shocked. It was coming, and I completely understand Barry’s reasons, and, quite honestly, I agree with him. That’s why months ago I had come to many of the same conclusions had have been working to get to this point. 

I’m excited about this new digital world, and am going to be a willing, enthusiastic participant.

I hope you check out LITTLE GIRL GONE, JUST ANOTHER JOB, and PERFECT GENTLEMAN.

If you have any questions—about the books, about epublishing, about the weather—put them in the comments, and let’s discuss!

by Brett Battles

Me again! That’s right, two weeks in a row. Our fabulous Zoë is in the middle of her USA tour, so we’ve switched our order up just a bit to give her time to get over her jet lag…(Zoë, her hubby Andy, our lovely Alex, and I had dinner on Tuesday night here in L.A. It was great catching up!)

Those people who know me well, know that I’m not a huge complainer, especially in public. I’m always the kind of person that lets things go, and finds ways to work around problems instead of through them.

Well…I’m tired today. The schedule I’ve been keeping this year is exhausting me, but I can’t bring myself to back down. I have too much to do. What does that have to do with complaining? (Other than the fact that it’s a complaint in itself?) When I’m tired, I’m less likely to have my guard up, and more likely to rant. So there are a few things I’d like to rant about today in no particular order (warning: there will be a lot of italics):

The NFL (National Football League, for those of you outside the US)

Get. Your. Damn. Act. Together!

You have, by far, the most popular sport in this country. Stop your idiotic feuding and get your labor deal done. I’m looking at all of you—owners and players alike. It is horrendously stupid that there is even a problem. Owners…locking out your players? Come on! What are you, five? Grow up! Players…suggesting that top college prospects not attend the NFL Draft, a once in a lifetime event? Are you kidding me? I understand you’re trying to have some sort of solidarity, and the last thing you want is your new players shaking hands with “the enemy,” but think a little outside your own shadow. For these kids, it’s not about money or collective bargaining, it’s about the recognition of the work they’ve put in so far. And shaking hands with the enemy? The commissioner is not your enemy. The owners are not your enemy. And, commissioner and owners, the players are not your enemy. You are partners in a game. You get to be involved with something millions of Americans would love to be involved with.

And, for God’s sakes, if you want to win the fan vote, quit bitching at each other and get a deal done!

AMERICAN BASED AIRLINES

Screw you, and this whole passengers-have-to-pay-for-bags BS. This is ridiculous! Every time I see a commercial about special deals where there are reduced bag fees, or if you have this credit card your first bag is free, I want to pick up my television, and jam it down your throat. For crying out loud, can you not see how stupid this is?

“Well, it’s not fair to passenger who don’t fly with bags.” I got news for you. I seldom fly with bags if I’m going to be gone for a few days, and I still think this is dumb! When people travel they have luggage. The assumption should not be that luggage is an exception, it is the rule. The ticket price should include at least one bag, probably two. For fifty years, that was never a problem. Raise your ticket price if that’s what it takes. Charging for bags is nitpicky and makes you look cheap and obnoxious. Until this happens, it’s a pretty good bet that if Southwest is flying where I’m going, that’s the airline I’ll be on. Do you not do any PR research at all??

AT&T

Long time customer, first time (public) complainer…don’t know why it’s taken me so long.

Seriously, AT&T, I live in the middle of Los Angeles. The Middle of Los Angeles! I don’t live in a sparsely populated area. I don’t live in the mountains. I don’t live all alone in the middle of nowhere.

I live in the middle of Los Angeles.

The La Brea Tar Pits are a five minute walk from my front door. The L.A. County Museum of Art is a five minute walk from my front door. The Grove, one of the most popular malls in the city, is a five minute walk from my front door. And I can’t get a decent signal in my house? Are you kidding me???

To make a call, I have to go upstairs (I live in a townhouse), and even then, more times than not, the call gets dropped. Don’t tell me I could fix this by getting one of those home hotspot kind of things. Why should I pay even more money when getting a signal here shouldn’t even be an issue?

I live.

In the Middle.

Of Los Angeles.

Maybe you haven’t heard of it. There are, like, ten million of us in the county.

Get it together, AT&T. I don’t need excuses. I don’t really need reasons why, either. I need this problem fixed…three years ago.

Okay, that’s it. I’m done for now. I’ve got work to do, because I know the last thing I want to do is disappoint my fans/customers.

Feel free to comment or add your rant below.