Another book deal, this time a keeper, a year after my former deal imploded. Books on shelves. Elation. Joy. End of a long road, right?
No. Just beginning.
Arguments with my publisher over white-washed book covers. Late checks. Money that stops flowing. Then the publisher implodes, sells off its assets – including you and your books.
Take it over leave it. Fight the bullshit. Rage.
Sheer, unadulterated rage, that the work I spent a lifetime to see in print is now an “asset” a “property” a casualty of shitty business practices.
I fight the situation. I persist.
I sign a new contract.
The spice flows again.
But I’ve lost my joy for fiction.
Full Story: HERE