Okay, so I was already a bit jet-lagged after flying to LA from New Hampshire, driving to San Diego for business, driving back late, and getting very little sleep. I was tired this morning when I packed for the expo. Everything unnecessary was pulled from my laptop bag, and several copies of my book were stuffed inside. I had sell sheets ready, and business cards, and a gleam in my eye. I got to the show at 8:45, and by the time the exhibit hall doors opened at 9:00, I was already feeling the pain. Six trade paperbacks and one laptop weigh a LOT. Well, Five trade paperbacks, as one was held in my hand like a mighty badge, to catch the eye of big publishers and agents with the sheer awe of the glossy, roostery goodness. The doors opened, and I enter.
This was my first trip to a BEA show, and I was not prepared. Now, I've worked many a high-tech trade event that were of similar size, with similarly large and pushy crowds. What I didn't expect was a fundamental reversal of capitalism: I expected people to be selling me books; instead, they were giving them to me! Free! Greed quickly sedated shock, and I started to accept some of the better titles offered (expect reviews). Six books turned into eight, then ten ... my muscles began to carry that slow constant burn that means "stop or you will regret this." My awesome, bright purple Bailey Works Bag helped, but not enough as the bag stretched to accommodate book after book after book ... My spine has compressed and I am now 2" shorter, and I may always walk with a limp.
This was my first trip to a BEA show, and I was not prepared. Now, I've worked many a high-tech trade event that were of similar size, with similarly large and pushy crowds. What I didn't expect was a fundamental reversal of capitalism: I expected people to be selling me books; instead, they were giving them to me! Free! Greed quickly sedated shock, and I started to accept some of the better titles offered (expect reviews). Six books turned into eight, then ten ... my muscles began to carry that slow constant burn that means "stop or you will regret this." My awesome, bright purple Bailey Works Bag helped, but not enough as the bag stretched to accommodate book after book after book ... My spine has compressed and I am now 2" shorter, and I may always walk with a limp.So I was tired when I entered the theater for the ForeWord Book of The Year award ceremony. Sadly, I did not win. As one of four finalists, I expected I would (75% chance, right?), but I can't be disappointed. First, even making it to the Finalist level is an honor: the BOTY's are judged rigorously. Second, a new friend and fellow author, Eddie Gresham, won the Bronze. Third, I was able to meet the second place author, Paigan Stone. I'll be reading her book "Gabriele Caccini: The Vampire Gene - Book 1 (The Vampire Gene)
" as soon as I can and posting a review here. There's no need for me to read Eddie's "Footfalls," because I've already read it - and it was fantastic (I would recommend it to any Stephen King fan). I was convinced he was going to take the Gold ... but then, I was also convinced that I would take the Silver. So much for my supernatural powers of prognostication. Anyway,it was nice to meet Eddie (who I've traded emails with since we were both selected as finalists), and I am very happy for him. No, not happy, proud. Give Eddie a hand, folks, and then go buy his book. Remember: If you want to eat, fund farms; if you want to live, fund medicine; but if you want to read, fund your independent authors - we are the wave of the future!
" as soon as I can and posting a review here. There's no need for me to read Eddie's "Footfalls," because I've already read it - and it was fantastic (I would recommend it to any Stephen King fan). I was convinced he was going to take the Gold ... but then, I was also convinced that I would take the Silver. So much for my supernatural powers of prognostication. Anyway,it was nice to meet Eddie (who I've traded emails with since we were both selected as finalists), and I am very happy for him. No, not happy, proud. Give Eddie a hand, folks, and then go buy his book. Remember: If you want to eat, fund farms; if you want to live, fund medicine; but if you want to read, fund your independent authors - we are the wave of the future!I also can't be disappointed because I won a Bronze medal in the IPPY awards, as well as a new award for "raising the bar" in independent publishing: an "Indie Excellence" award, from Odyssey Reviews. As the saying goes, "two outta three ain't bad!" The best part with the IPPY was the ceremony: we were called up to the front for photos, and a tall, red-gown woman placed real medals around our necks -- I felt just like Han Solo! The medal is large, heavy, and very kind to the ego.
There will be some followup posts on some of the cooler things about the show, such as the re-emergence of "choose your own adventure" books, a new tack on potentially starting a publishing company, and of course reviews of some of the more inspiring books. One is "All Ye Zombies," which is a corporate-zombie book. The booth was manned by the most amazingly beautiful girl (my wife still takes first prize though!), but I was honestly drawn by the zombie title. Another is "The Nine Lives of Romeo Crumb, Life One" by L. Rifkin. The book is independently published and beautifully produced, and illustrated by Kurt Hartman. I was given a copy of the paperback, but the hardcovers were even more exquisite ... if I like this book I will likely pick up all of the hardcovers, for a complete nine book set (well, only the first few are available now, but eventually ...)
Cluck might be a Murder Most Fowl but it's also a Book Best Written: announcements were sent out last night by 
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A friend, we'll name him "Lucky," was working a book fair in PA, when he was approached at the booth by a hot brunette. She said she loved men who read, and was a fan of horror books. She looked "don't introduce me to your mother" hot, and so some serious flirtation ensured, resulting in my friend handing this strange vamp the key to his hotel room. His mind was full of conflicting thoughts. Was he going to get laid? Was he going to be robbed? The thought of this mysterious woman running off with all of his possessions made him anxious, but not as much as the promise of wild kinky sex. He called a co-worker to cover the booth, and then hurried up to his hotel room for what he hoped would be an afternoon of wild love making.
When he got to his room, he snapped the above picture with his phone before she woke up. Notice that she's holding a copy of 
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