Publisher Notes - Michael Anderle November 15, 2017
We have a dog, a magic user and a publisher on an airplane…
Wait, wait. I’m the publisher on the airplane and Flint and Martha are the ones with the magic user and the dog.
First (or is this second?) I would like to thank you for not only reading the story, but also the author notes an all the way to the end with my publisher notes, as well.
My wife and I are flying back to Texas to spend time with our boys for the Thanksgiving holidays. It is the first time in my life that I have ever done something like this. Before, it was either me at my house or us traveling to a family or friends location. This time, we are traveling back to Texas (where we have a house), and all of the family (two of our three sons) will be coming home.
It’s a weird experience. Now, the house is empty, and the kids are coming back to fill it up with noise and life and all the sorts of things that can make holidays fun.
Or not.
During this time, we will talk about their first few months of college, of life outside of the home and I’m sure they will withhold stories as well.
At least, I hope they withhold stories. I wouldn’t be so good knowing some of the truth, I suspect.
Last Friday night, Judith and I went to see Thor Ragnarok at the theater. For me, I enjoyed the movie significantly more than the second movie (name escapes me). The humor allowed me to deal with the stress of the action and just enjoy the popcorn aspect. For those who didn’t like it (I read a few reviews), I totally understand how the humor probably affected their enjoyment of the show.
Also, before I forget, I had the HARDEST time with Karl Urban’s character because I recognized him around the eyes, but I couldn’t put a name to the actor. I just remembered “he was in that other sci-fi show where he was trying to be the head death guy.”
I know, pretty crap explanation of the movie.
I don’t have internet on the plane, so I can’t even look it up. A little help here? Vin Diesel is the main character; the antagonists are the necromancers or something like that. Vin’s character has silver eyes.
Yeah, the name is still eluding me.
Hold on, and I’ll tap on my wife to see if she remembers the movie. <Tapping on wife’s shoulder on the airplane. I have the window seat and she has the middle. God bless her for taking the middle.>
Huh, she doesn’t remember.
Ok, back to my notes. I bring all of this up because (as a publisher) I have to make some decisions about tone, emotions, characters, and their place in our stories.
Do we do hard stories (meaning, stressful stories that keep you on the edge of your seat) or do we keep the stories like “my” stuff (Michael Anderle) which are more what I usually like to read?
What happens when I want to write stuff that is grittier? (If I do.) How do I brand those efforts as different than what I write now?
It’s rather like a band you like who, on their fifth or sixth album, decides they want to try something different (looking at you favorite metal bands that decided they wanted to try another genre.)
So, now I understand imprints and their purposes a little better. But, I don’t want to create an imprint for my publishing company. I just want everything to be “LMBPN Publishing."
Grrrr…. I hate when I am challenged with traditional methodologies. My indie outlaw self wants to fight the system.
But what if the system that has been implemented with the traditional publishers has a purpose even for an indie like myself?
Grrrr… I’m not ready to cave yet. Maybe you guys could send us ideas on HOW to designate the style (content) of a book we are providing that makes sense.
Cause, I hate the concept of imprints.
Ok, well, I’m going to sign off and stare at the Grand Canyon that is outside my window. Maybe that will provide a little help coming up with ideas. ;-)
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael
The Midwest War
Chapter One
If he doesn’t wake up…can we eat him? Sherlock inched closer to Joe, who was passed out on top of the sugar bags in the back of Salem’s Ice Cream Shop.
Maria glared at the Bloodhound. “Eat him?” she whispered.
The rest of the wanderers—Claire, Tabby, Gramps, Frieda, Salem, Agnes, and now the newest member of the group, the Gnome, Gelbus Cogspark—were gathered around the rickety card table, their hands leafing through all the files and papers that Gramps had kept on the Arachnids over the years.
Yeah, eat him.
“Sherlock, you don’t eat humans,” Maria growled.
There’s a first time for everything. The Bloodhound raced out the kitchen door, his paws padding on the linoleum, his mouth slobbering, and then came back in the blink of an eye. Clamped in his teeth were two cylindrical containers. Maria had to narrow her eyes to read them—SALT and PEPPER. For the flavor, Sherlock added. You can't blame me for wanting to have some taste, can you? Despite his voice being purely telepathic, it still sounded muffled to Maria, as if he really were speaking with his vocal cords instead of his
