Tag Archives: publicity

Professional Wednesday: Heading To DragonCon!

This coming weekend, I will be in Atlanta for DragonCon, the annual highlight of my professional calendar. For those of you unfamiliar with the phenomenon known as DragonCon, it is a huge convention that takes over Atlanta’s Peachtree Center every Labor Day weekend. In the past, the convention has attracted as many as 80,000 people. This year, in an attempt to control the crowd just a little, I believe attendance at the con has been capped at 65,000. Yeah, that’s still pretty big.

The con attracts television and movie stars (although I don’t know how the SAG strike will impact their numbers this year), directors, producers, writers (of scripts, novels, comic books, non-fiction, poetry, and pretty much every other written form), agents, editors, artists working in all media, musicians, animators, stand-up comics, costuming professionals, jewelry-makers, crafts-people of all sorts, and, of course, fans from all over the world.

The Chalice War: Sword, by David B. CoeIt is a spectacle. It is Mardi Gras for geeks. It is a party. It is a chance to do business. It is an opportunity to reconnect with friends. It is more fun than being six years old.

I will be on programming again this year, doing panels, signings, and a few mentoring sessions for the writers’ track. And when I am not involved in official convention programming, I will be in the Westin Hotel bar. If you’re in Atlanta for the weekend, please come by and say hello!

Here is my official schedule. (Note: I am listed in all program literature under “D.B. Jackson.”)

*****

Title: A Fond Farewell to Mrs. Maisel *Spoiler Warning*
Description: The final season of Mrs. Maisel took Midge’s career in a new direction, while her entire family is growing in new, unexpected ways. We might have gotten flashes of Midge’s future, but there are still plenty of things for our panelists to discuss.
Panelists: Jenna Johnson, D.B. Jackson, Dan Jolley, Cecilia Dominic, Elizabeth Carpenter(M)
Time: Fri 11:30 am
Location: Augusta Courtland Grand (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: D.B. Jackson signing booth 1201
Description: Come to the special author signing at The Missing Volume booth 1201
Panelists: D.B. Jackson
Time: Fri 01:00 pm
Location: Vendor Hall Floor 1 Mart2 (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: Themed Signing Alternate & Historic Fiction Track: History with a Twist
Panelists: Jean Marie Ward, Tamsin L. Silver, D.B. Jackson, David Boop, Gail Z. Martin, Walter Hunt
Time: Fri 05:30 pm
Location: Overlook Westin (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: The Gather: Welcome Home!!!!!!
Description: The best Gathering around of authors and fans! Who knows what surprises and treasures are to be found. We have more authors than the app will allow us to list, so you will be sure to find some great books to take home with your amazing Con stories.
Panelists: Milton J. Davis(O), John G. Hartness, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Philip Ligon, Jay Boyce, Jeffrey Falcon Logue, Patrick Dugan, William Joseph Roberts, Michael J Allen, Chris Jackson, Marc Alan Edelheit, Tamsin L. Silver, G. S. Jennsen, Katie Cross, David Boop, Quincy J. Allen, Tyra Burton, Matt Dinniman, Gini Koch, James Palmer, Darin Kennedy, Joelle Presby, Tao Wong, Harmon Cooper, D.B. Jackson, AJ Hartley, D.R. Perry, John Jackson Miller, Megan Mackie, Ellie Raine, Esther Friesner, Sean Fletcher, Katharine E. Wibell, Kaitlin Bevis, Isabelle Hardesty, Stacey Rourke, Mari Mancusi, Eric R. Asher, Frank Morin, Leanna Renee Hieber, Madaug Hishinuma, Wesley Chu, Bobby Nash, Howard Andrew Jones, Dennis Lee Robinson
Time: Fri 08:00 pm
Location: International South Hyatt (Length: 4 Hours)

Title: Anthology: A Buncha Great Writers Got Together…
Description: Wondering about anthologies? How to get invited into one? We’re going to lead you down the pathway to writing for anthologies.
Panelists: Trisha J. Wooldridge, Esther Friesner, Jeff Burns, Nancy Knight, Jean Marie Ward, D.B. Jackson
Time: Fri 08:30 pm
Location: Embassy EF Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: A Fan Discussion of The Last Kingdom: Seven Kings Must Die *Spoiler Alert*
Description: Seven Kings Must Die was our last look into the world of Uthred, son of Uthred, and his companions. What did you think of the movie as compared to the TV series? What excited you, or left you wanting more? Did you feel that it wrapped up things nicely? Come discuss with your fellow fans!
Panelists: Emily Myerscough(M), Corey Applegate, Cathalson, Katie Brewster, D.B. Jackson
Time: Sat 02:30 pm
Location: Macon Courtland Grand (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: How Epic is Epic?
Description: Some stories are so big they require more than one book…sometimes many more than one. These can be called epic stories. What makes a story epic? How do authors decide how many books their big story requires?
Panelists: Kevin J. Anderson, Jean Marie Ward, David Weber, D.B. Jackson, Timothy Zahn
Time: Sat 05:30 pm
Location: International South Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: Back in Time: Historical Urban Fantasy
Description: Our panelists explore supernatural beings & magic set in historical real-world settings.
Panelists: Cherie M. Priest, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Marie Brennan, D.B. Jackson, Carol Malcolm(M), Aaron Michael Ritchey
Time: Sat 08:30 pm
Location: Chastain 1-2 Westin (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: Many Tongues, 1 World: Using or Creating Languages in Literature
Description: We will be pulling in authors and a linguist to discuss using and creating languages for fantasy settings. Sometimes they may pull from the real world, other times it might be making things from scratch.
Panelists: Davis Ashura, Mera Rose, Mel Todd, Kevin McLaughlin, D.B. Jackson, Alex Shvartsman
Time: Sun 01:00 pm
Location: Embassy CD Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: 15 Minute Mentor Sessions
Description: A chance for budding authors to talk one-on-one with a successful industry professional about business, promotion, the writing process, & career advice. Sign up in the Writer’s Track. (Embassy E/F)
Panelists: James Nettles, Darin Kennedy, D.B. Jackson, R.J. Blain
Time: Sun 02:30 pm
Location: Embassy G Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: Are You a Good Witch, or a Bad Witch? Varieties & Approaches in UF
Description: Witches in Urban Fantasy run the gamut from helpful to extremely dangerous and self-serving, often in the same story. Our authors discuss their characters and the categories they fall into.
Panelists: Jennifer Blackstream, D.B. Jackson, Rachel Rawlings, Meg M Robinson, Melissa F. Olson, Carol Malcolm(M)
Time: Sun 05:30 pm
Location: Chastain 1-2 Westin (Length: 1 Hour)

Title: D.B. Jackson/David B. Coe signing booth 1201
Description: Come to the special author signing at The Missing Volume booth 1201
Panelists: D.B. Jackson/David B. Coe
Time: Mon 11:00 am
Location: Vendor Hall Floor 1 Mart2 (Length: 1 Hour)

A Word of Thanks, and a Bit of Bragging

My summer of releases continues tomorrow!!

So far this year I have had releases in May (The Chalice War: Stone, the first book in my new Celtic urban fantasy), June (The Chalice War: Cauldron), and July (Artifice and Craft, which I co-edited with Edmund Schubert, and Dragonesque, which includes my short story, “Reenactment”). Now we’re into August, and tomorrow sees the release of The Chalice War: Sword.My Summer 2023 releases

Yes, I say all of this with tremendous pride. I have been productive over the past year. And over the past three years, going back to 2021, I have published four short stories, edited three anthologies, and produced five novels and a trilogy of novellas. That’s nothing to sneeze at. The truth is, my work has been a balm and a welcome distraction from other things. Being productive has been a form of therapy for me.

I want to thank you all so much for your support of my work, and of me personally. I’m more grateful than I can say. The past few years have not been easy, but your interest in my new books and stories, and your willingness to read my blog posts and social media screeds has meant the world to me. No, I’m not going anywhere. I have more projects to work on, more blog posts to write. But I wanted to pause and say thanks. I wish all of you the best.

Professional Wednesday: One Last Teaser, and a Plea For Help — Please Read

Believe it or not, writers don’t particularly enjoy asking you to buy and read our stuff. We are not, as a rule, good at sales or comfortable touting our own work. We prefer to write, to spend time with our characters, in our settings, thinking up new and exciting plot lines. If we had wanted to be businesspeople we would have gone into business. For many of us, promotion and marketing are necessary evils that facilitate the creative endeavors we truly love.

The Chalice War: Sword, by David B. CoeAnd so, I undertake the writing of this post, this latest plea for help, with a good deal of reluctance. The thing is, though, I want this new series to do well. I love the books, the world, the characters, the storyline. And I have wonderful ideas for what might happen next in this universe. But if this first series doesn’t sell, I won’t get to publish more books featuring Marti and Kel, Riann and Carrie, Quinn and Orla, Manannán and the Furies. That’s the way the publishing world works. Our publishing reputation is really only as good as the sales of our most recent project. A harsh reality, but a reality nevertheless.

Therefore, before I offer you one last free teaser excerpt from The Chalice War: Sword, the third and final book in my Celtic urban fantasy trilogy, The Chalice War, I would ask the following of you:

1) If you have not started reading the series, which begins with The Chalice War: Stone and The Chalice War: Cauldron, please do. The books are exciting, fun, and filled with memorable characters. If you’re reading this blog chances are you’re A) a fan of my work, or B) a friend who follows me because of that friendship and has not yet read any of my books. To fans, if you like my other work, you’ll love these books. They’re among my best. And to my friends, maybe you’re not really fantasy readers. I totally get that. But these books are set in our real world and the magic is based on Celtic mythology. These are as accessible as any fantasy I’ve written. Give them a try.

2) If you have already read the first and/or second book(s) in this series, thank you. But there is more you can do. Please, please, please consider leaving a review of the book(s) on Amazon or at other reader/bookseller sites. Reviews, even not so great reviews, help writers enormously. The way Amazon works, the number of reviews for a book is far more important than the content of those reviews. So, if for some reason you didn’t enjoy the book(s), leave a review anyway. Every review helps. Of course, if you loved the book(s), a glowing review is especially helpful.

3) If you have already read the books AND left reviews, you have my deepest gratitude. And yet, I have a request for you as well. Maybe you know a reader who is not familiar with my work. Maybe a fantasy reader you know has a birthday coming up. Maybe you’re looking to get an early jump on your holiday shopping. Books make marvelous gifts. Just sayin’.

The Chalice War: Sword comes out the day after tomorrow, Friday, August 4. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And now, a final teaser!

The Chalice War trilogy, by David B. Coe
*****

“There’s our guide,” Carrie said, as soon as the woman entered the pub.

“How do you know?” Marti asked, twisting in her seat.

“It’s the woman I saw at the river this afternoon.”

“You’re sure?”

She was. And the small, knowing smile the woman offered as she approached their table made her that much more certain. Seeing her close up, Carrie noticed things she’d missed earlier. The woman’s eyes were blue, and while there might have been thin lines around her mouth and eyes, her hair was satiny and black. She didn’t look as old as Carrie had thought by the river.

It helped that instead of wearing the long gown and shawl she had on this afternoon, the woman now wore a tight black leather skirt, a low-cut and yet somehow tasteful blouse, and ankle boots for which Carrie thought Riann would have killed.

Every person in the pub, regardless of gender, followed the woman with their gaze as she sauntered past. She kept her eyes riveted on Carrie. It was unnerving and, Carrie had to admit, just a little bit provocative. Perhaps reading her thoughts, the woman broadened her smile, revealing perfect, sharp teeth. Also provocative.

She halted beside Carrie’s chair, angling her body so as to show her back to Marti and Riann, and stuck out her hand.

“I believe you’ve been expecting me,” she said in a strong alto and a lilting brogue. “I’m Enya.”

“Um . . . Hi. I’m Carrie. Enya, you said? Like the musician?”

“It’s pronounced Enya, but spelled E-i-t-h-n-e.” She shrugged, tipping her head just a bit. “These days no one can make heads or tails of that version of the name. I should probably change it for simplicity’s sake. But I don’t like to make things too easy on anyone.”

Her eyes remained locked on Carrie’s, and she didn’t release Carrie’s hand. Her thumb gently, subtly caressed the skin between Carrie’s thumb and forefinger.

Carrie pulled her hand from the woman’s grasp and indicated the others at the table. Her skin tingled where Eithne had touched her.

“These are my friends. Riann, Marti, and Kel.”

“Hello, Kel,” Eithne said, turning unerringly to the conduit. Again, she proffered her hand, though she didn’t hold Kel’s for more than a second or two. She nodded to Riann and Marti. That was all.

She flashed a dazzling smile toward the men at the adjacent table. “Are you using this chair?”

The men practically fell over themselves positioning it for her. Carrie thought they would have built her one had there not been an extra.

Eithne sat, crossed her legs, and raised a hand. Within seconds, their server stood at the table, out of breath, her cheeks flushed.

“Wine, please,” Eithne said. “Whatever Sauvignon Blanc you have from New Zealand.”

“And I’d like another . . . .” Riann trailed off. The server was gone already, having given no indication that she heard. “Beer.”

She turned back to the newcomer, her expression icy. “So, Eithne, what qualifies you to be our guide?”

Your ‘guide?’ Is that how the Furies characterized what I’d be doing?”

“You’d use a different word?”

“First of all, I was under the impression that only Carrie would be entering the Underrealm.”

Riann shifted in her chair. “Well . . . yes.”

“And I would call myself her protector. Her champion. Her lifeline. Any of those will do nicely.” She faced Carrie again. “The dingo out front: she’s your conduit?”

“Yes.”

“She’s beautiful. And powerful. I can see why the Morrigan chose you for this.”

Riann bristled. “Why the Morrigan— They didn’t choose her for anything. This was our idea. Marti’s idea. The Morrigan knew nothing about it until we went to them. And the only reason Carrie is going down there is she’s the only one of us who’s Fomhoire.”

She cringed, seeming to grasp too late that she’d basically said Carrie had no value to them beyond her heritage. She chanced a glance in Carrie’s direction.

Carrie looked away pointedly, too hurt and angry to meet the woman’s gaze.

She would have struggled to explain her reaction. She knew it was true. She had Fomhoire blood, which meant she could enter the demons’ realm. Compared to the others, she had no magical ability to speak of, little knowledge of Baelor or Cichol or their servants, and even less sense of what she would find Below. And yet, hearing the woman she loved, who she thought loved her, speak of her in those terms left her feeling denigrated and dismissed. Not for the first time on this trip.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked Riann. “Give a few examples of the different ways I’m unqualified to go?”

Riann stared at her empty glass. “No. I’m sorry.”

Carrie nodded, tight-lipped. Eithne appeared to be enjoying herself.

“Where are you from, Eithne?” Marti asked.

“North of here. No place you’ve heard of.”

“I know Ireland well. Try me.”

“Noughermore.” She pronounced it “noffermore,” but with a hint of something guttural in the middle of the word.

Marti’s mien soured.

“As I said, no place you’ve heard of.”

The server returned with Eithne’s wine and this time lingered long enough to take refill orders from the others. After she left, a frosty silence settled over the table. Again. Carrie couldn’t remember the last time the four of them had simply gotten along, without conflict, or worry, or intrusions from others in the Celtic . . . . Community, she decided, was too generous a word.

Eithne was odd and clearly determined to sow as much discord among them as possible. But that hardly differentiated her from the Morrigan. And as flattering as her attention might have been, Carrie didn’t trust her even a little.

“So, how is it you know so much about the Underrealm,” she asked the woman. “I mean that’s not a usual tour guide thing, is it? There isn’t a tourism institute in—Where was it? Noughermore?—there isn’t a school you went to that offers lessons in navigating Cichol’s lair?”

Eithne’s lips curved, and she covered Carrie’s hand with her own. “Keep your voice down,” she whispered.

Carrie pulled her hand away. “Why should I? This is just a pub. We’re just talking. Who do you think might hear?”

Eithne’s smile ossified. “What does it matter? The Morrigan trust me completely.”

“But we don’t completely trust them,” Marti said.

“Heard that.” A distant voice, possibly Badbh’s.

Most of the time these days, Carrie felt beyond her depth, as if the others were privy to information she didn’t have. This once, though, she was anything but. She’d seen this woman first, and without knowing why, she already had a sense of her, of her motives and origins.

“You’re Fomhoire,” she said, leaning in, intent on those crystal blue eyes. “You’re not from Noughermore. You’re from Below.”

The others watched and waited, riveted. Eithne sipped her wine, her hand steady.

“Actually, it’s possible to be from both. I’m living proof.”

Carrie said nothing. She thought if she kept silent long enough, the woman would tell them more.

Eithne reached for her glass again, but stopped herself. “You know Noughermore as East Town,” she finally said, addressing Marti. Her voice had flattened, and she’d switched off the charm. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“East Town. On Tory Island.”

“That’s right.”

“So, Carrie’s right. You are Fomhoire.”

“There are Milesians from East Town. There are even Sidhe from East Town.” When no one responded, she made a small gesture, something between annoyance and acquiescence. “Like I said: I have roots in both worlds. What matters for you is that I can lead your friend here right through Cichol’s home and to the Sword. I know where it is. I know how to reach it. I know how to get us out once it’s in hand. Nothing else should matter to you.”

“Like hell it shouldn’t,” Riann said. “You want us to believe you’re helping us out of the goodness of your heart, or because you love Sidhe so much?”

“I don’t care what you believe. But no, I expect you to think there’s something in it for me, that I’ve got my own agenda. Because there is, and I do.”

“And what agenda is that?”

Eithne’s silken smile returned. “None of your damn business.”

The sounds of the pub abruptly vanished—the din of laughter and conversations, the clink of plates and glasses and cutlery, the background drone of the television. All went silent. Carrie glanced around, as did her friends. Eithne drank more wine, apparently unconcerned. The pubs other patrons had gone still. Literally. None of them moved or spoke. One man at the next table was frozen with his glass of stout at his lips. A drop of Guinness hung suspended between his grizzled chin and the table.

“What in God’s name . . . .” Kel said.

And then the Morrigan were back, in the flesh this time, seated in chairs that materialized with them. They wore black sequined dresses and black satin stilettos, and their hair was teased into matching buns. They looked stunning. And pissed.

“Are we having trouble getting along?” Macha asked archly, crossing her legs with the grace of a dancer.

“They don’t like me,” Eithne said.

Badbh dismissed this with a wave of her slender hand. “No one likes you.”

“You need a guide,” Macha said to Marti. “Or rather, she does.” She jerked a perfectly tapered chin in Carrie’s direction. “We got you one. End of story.”

“She’s Fomhoire!” Riann said.

Badbh chuffed a laugh. “Yes, darling. We searched far and wide for a Sidhe who could tell us what Cichol’s lair is like, but all of them are dead, so . . . .”

“This isn’t a meet and greet,” Macha said. “And it’s not a dating service. We honestly couldn’t care less if you get along. You have a task; you need help completing it. This is your help. Work together or don’t. But if you don’t, be prepared to fail. Navigating the Underrealm alone would be perilous. Entering Cichol’s demesne alone is suicide.” She indicated Carrie with another twitch of her head. “If you want this one back, you’ll let Eithne guide her.” She considered each of them one by one, appearing every bit the Battle Fury. “Are we clear?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Good. We’re leaving. It’s going to take hours to get the pub smell out of my hair.”

“Why bother?” Badbh asked. “It matches your singing.”

Macha glowered.

“What? You expect me to pass up an opening like that?”

They winked out of view. The bar noise resumed. A wave of dizziness crashed through Carrie, and she gripped the table. “Whoa.”

“Tell me about it,” Kel said, doing the same, her cheeks blanching.

Only Eithne appeared unaffected.

Marti eyed the woman, suspicion and resentment in the set of her jaw. “Fine. You’re one of us, for now. Do you need a place to stay?”

That of all things made Eithne laugh. “Hardly. And I won’t need a ride either. Your car is too crowded as it is. And,” she added, with glances at Riann and Carrie, “pretty though your conduits might be, I have no desire to smell dog all day. We’ll work together, but we needn’t make things more unpleasant than necessary. Get to Tory Island. I’ll meet you there.”

Carrie half expected her to disappear as the Morrigan had. She didn’t. She drained her wine, pulled a twenty Euro note from within her blouse and tossed it on the table, and sauntered to the door and out, her exit from the pub as attention-grabbing as her entrance had been.

“I don’t like this,” Riann said to Marti.

The other woman shook her head. “Neither do I. We could try talking to Manannán. He’s likely to know someone with knowledge of the Underrealm. Someone we can trust more than—”

“No,” Carrie said.

They all turned to her.

“We’ll go with Eithne. That’s who the Morrigan have chosen, and they’ve been in on the planning from the start.”

“Just because they’ve—”

“I said no.”

Riann looked like she’d been slapped.

“It’s my life on the line, so it’s my choice. I don’t like her, and I’m very glad she has her own way of getting north to the island. But she’s the guide I want—not some friend of Manannán who none of us has ever heard of.”

Marti didn’t respond. Clearly, Riann wanted to. Carrie had no doubt this argument would continue later, when they were alone. For now, though, her declaration was met with silence. At first.

Kel drained her glass. “And once again, snaps for Carrie for saying what needs to be said. I should invite you to all my arguments with Marti.”

Tuesday Treat!!

The Chalice War: Stone postcardsI gots swag!!!

The Chalice War: Stone postcards, hot off the press!!

And while you might be able to get some from me at a convention, I thought I would send a few out to a handful of lucky fans. All you have to do is guess what number I’m thinking of between 1 and 999! If you’re one of the five closest to the right number (above or below), you’ll get a postcard, signed and mailed to your address!!

Submit your guess in my Facebook group!! (If you’re not a member yet [hairy eyeball directed at you!!] submit your guess and ask to join and you will be approved!) Deadline: May 26, 2023

Easy peasy, right??

Ready, set, guess!!

Teaser Thursday: One Day ‘Til Release!!

The Chalice War: Stone, by David B. CoeAnother teaser, to get you excited for tomorrow’s release from Bell Bridge Books of THE CHALICE WAR: STONE, the first book in my new Celtic urban fantasy. Enjoy!

*****

Macha turned back to Marti. “You summoned us. Why?”

Before Marti could answer, the Fury went on. “You used herbs and oils to do it.” She halted her pacing beside the spear of tiger’s eye and nudged it with the toe of her shoe. “And crystals. How quaint. I’m guessing you lost more than your husband to the Fomhoire. They killed your conduit, too.”

Marti stopped herself from saying something rash and irrevocable. Macha wanted a reaction. She was a predator; all three of them were. Twisting the emotions of mortals came as naturally to them as hunting did to a hawk. Marti gained nothing by lashing out. And by holding back, she denied them nourishment of a sort.

“Yes, they did,” she said, keeping her tone even. “I wish they hadn’t of course, and I’m sorry to have summoned you this way. To be honest, I don’t like the smell of petitgrain any more than you do.”

An amused grin flashed across Macha features and was gone.

“Nicely done, Marti.”

“I don’t mind the smell that much,” Nemain said.

“Do shut up, Nellie.” Macha resumed her pacing, hands held behind her back. “You have questions.”

Delicately. She needed to learn as much as she could while revealing as little as possible.

“They sent Sluagh to kill Alistar,” she said. “And it turns out Alistar took certain precautions, just in case something like this happened. It seemed like he knew the Fomhoire would come for him eventually.”

“What kind of precautions?” Macha asked, as Marti had known she would.

Always distract the Furies with truth, Alistar told her. They’ll sense lies, but they’re not so smart that they can’t be distracted with a few well-placed truths.

Marti shrugged. “Spare license plates for the car, stuff with our finances. It was like he knew I’d outlive him.”

“And your question is?”

“Why? What made him a target for the Fomhoire? What did they think they’d gain by killing him?”

Macha stopped and clapped her hands in mock applause. “Lovely, my dear. You should be in show business with us. What do you think, girls? Shall we make Marti part of the act?”

Badbh leered.

Nemain glanced from one sister to the other. “Why? Does she sing, too?”

Macha ignored her. “You brought it here with you, didn’t you?” She waved off the question. “You must have. You’re far too clever to have left it behind.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I do believe Alistar kept you in the dark about its true nature. That would have been like him—doing the prudent thing—assuming he had a choice in the matter. The problem is, he wasn’t as prepared to die as you imply. If he was, he would have told you more.”

“They were after something he had?” Marti asked, unwilling to confirm the Fury’s suspicions.

“They are after something you still have,” Macha told her. “Stop playing games with me.”

“What is it she has?” Badbh asked, taking a step toward Marti, hunger in her pale eyes.

Macha’s gaze flicked toward her sister. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

“I’m sure you do,” Macha said, facing the other Fury. “But I have no intention of telling you.”

The glower Badbh directed at her sister could have kindled wet wood.

“Maybe we should speak in private?” Marti asked, trying to mask her eagerness.

“I don’t think I’m ready to do that, either,” Macha said.

“What do you want?”

Macha gave an exaggerated shrug. She was having too much fun for Marti’s taste. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“The Fomhoire want it, too, right?” Badbh said. “Just let them fight for it.”

“That’s tempting, actually,” Macha said. “I would love to see another full-blown war between you and the Fomhoire. It’s been too long.” She brushed a tiny thread off her dress. “But in this case war would be dangerous, even for us. We can’t afford for you to lose it.”

“Then tell me what I need to know.” The words tumbled out of her, reckless, too fast. Macha had frightened her. Marti’s suspicions about the stone had been growing in recent days. With the Fury’s last words, terror exploded in her mind.

Gods, Alistar. What did you do to me?

Macha smiled again. “I don’t think so.”

“But you said—”

“Oh, we don’t want to see you beaten, but we have to have some fun. Don’t we girls?”

Badbh and Nemain cackled, sounding far more like Furies than nightclub singers.

“You know what you’ve been hiding,” Macha went on. “I do, too. Now, it seems the Fomhoire have some inkling as well. But it’s been lost to time for so long they can’t imagine where it could be or exactly what it might look like. To be honest, none of us can.”

Macha halted, scanned the room with studied indifference before fixing her gaze on Marti once more. “Actually, I would love to see it.”

Marti shook her head. “No.”

The Fury pouted, her lower lip protruding provocatively. The audiences in Vegas must have loved these three.

Professional Wednesday: What Holds Me Back, part III — Imposter Syndrome and Other Insecurities

Continuing my series of posts on “What Holds Me Back,” I turn today to more difficult issues. In my experience, the greatest challenges creators face are emotional ones, and I have struggled with such things throughout my career. This is a complex subject, and not one that’s easy to cover in a single post, though I intend to try. The problem is, the emotional obstacles we face are varied and at times debilitating. Imposter syndrome, lack of self-confidence (which is different), excessive comparison of our own achievements and disappointments with those of others — these things and more can keep us from accomplishing all we hope to.

I’m not going to hold back in this post. My own experiences will only be helpful for the rest of you if I’m completely honest, so that’s my intent.

Let me begin with the obvious: I have been a professional writer for close to thirty years and in my calmer, more rational moments, I feel pretty good about my abilities and also about what I have done over my decades in the business. While I’ve never been a huge name in the field, I have been publishing long and short fiction continuously for my entire career. I consistently get good reviews, I have won several awards, and I enjoy the respect of my peers. In short, I have no reason to be anything but proud of what I have achieved as a writer.

And yet . . . .

That is, as I say, the rational view of my professional life. The thing about all the emotions I mentioned in the opening paragraph is that they’re not rational. They’re anything but. Yet they are persistent and pervasive, and they can be utterly crippling.

I have written before about imposter syndrome. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it is self-explanatory: Imposter syndrome is the unfounded belief that, despite our qualifications and successes, we are undeserving of our status and whatever accolades we might have received. I recall years ago talking about imposter syndrome with a friend, someone who was at the time far more established in the field than I, and who had enjoyed some serious commercial success. I asked this person when I could expect my imposter syndrome to go away. My friend laughed. “When you find out, let me know.”

Based on conversations I’ve had and on reading I’ve done, I sense that imposter syndrome is fairly common across the creative arts, affecting visual artists and writers, movie stars and rock ’n roll icons. (It also happens to be common among academics, so it seems I was destined to deal with it no matter which career path I followed.)

It may seem that lacking self-confidence is the same as suffering from imposter syndrome. And certainly a case can be made that a shortage of confidence contributes to what I’ve just described. But really they are separate phenomena. As I have said, imposter syndrome is a real problem for me personally, lack of self-confidence less so. Still, I have dealt with it off and on, and I have seen the impact a profound lack of confidence can have on talented writers. It can make them question their ideas, it can keep them from moving forward with manuscripts because they constantly retreat into rewrites of perfectly good stories in order to fix imagined problems, and worst of all, it can prevent them from sending out stories and books for consideration. That same lack of self-assurance can bring with it social anxieties that prevent writers from taking advantage of convention and workshop situations. As I said before, it can be debilitating.

And finally, I mentioned early in the post our tendency to compare ourselves excessively with our peers and colleagues. Another friend of mine once referred to this as Locus Syndrome, Locus being the newsletter of the science fiction and fantasy fields, where many in the industry announce awards, new contracts, sales of secondary rights, and other career milestones. I no longer subscribe to Locus because the arrival of each issue set off my worst comparison tendencies. Why is that publisher taking so-and-so’s novel when they passed on mine? Why did that person receive that award; why didn’t I? Why did my publisher take out a full-page ad for writer “x” when they merely included my book in a group advertisement?

No, I’m not kidding. I really did stuff like this to myself. More, I was hardly alone in this regard. And I can tell you, just as jealousy in a relationship can undermine love and trust, envy in one’s professional life destroys everything it touches. Many of the people I envied I also considered friends, and my jealousy of their triumphs kept me from being fully happy for them, as I should have been. It placed a strain on our relationships.

Imposter syndrome, lack of confidence, envy directed at colleagues — all of these have held me back at one time or another over the course of my career. And I would argue that all are exacerbated by a simple truth about the writing industry and the arts in general: the markers we use to chart our progress and our achievements, all tend to be external. Reviews and awards, story or book sales and new contracts, Amazon rankings and royalty statements. Not only do these forms of feedback come from outside, they all lie well beyond our control. Sure, we can publicize our work and hope that will impact our numbers. And yes, we can write our books well, and so influence reviews. But really our reach in terms of sales and reviews is quite limited.

And this is why I often return to the idea of self-defining our successes. There are a lot of authors out there these days, and they’re producing a lot of books. There’s no guarantee that our book is going to be noticed or reviewed. There is no guarantee it will sell. Which means one of two things — either the lack of attention is going to make us jealous of more successful writers and cause us to question our talent, our imagination, the quality of our work, OR we are going to take satisfaction in our own achievements regardless of the feedback we get externally.

I’m not naïve. Like I said, I’ve been in the business for thirty years. I’ve seen a lot, experienced a lot, had my share of both triumphs and disappointments. I know better than most how publishing works. Obviously, we need good sales to further our careers. Obviously, we want good reviews to help us gain recognition for our work. I would never claim otherwise. What I’m saying is this: NOT getting those things does not mean our work is unworthy. It does not mean we don’t belong in the profession. It should not cause us to question all. And to be honest, I am saying these things — again — as much for myself as for you. We all need to hear it.

Keep writing.

Professional Wednesday: What Holds Me Back, part II — Building a Platform

Last week, I started my newest series for the Professional Wednesday feature: “What Holds Me Back.” My first entry was on life in general, and the ways in which we learn to cope with life’s intrusions on our creative output.

This week I would like to shift my focus a bit to more writing-specific obstacles that can hold us back in one way or another. As it happens, there are a lot of them, so it may be this series will stick around for a while. But let’s begin with all those things that fall under the heading of “building our platform.”

Children of Amarid, by David B. Coe (jacket art by Romas Kukalis)I’ll preface this discussion with the obvious: I’m old. I’ve been in this business for a long time — it’s been nearly three decades since I signed my first contract. When I got started in the business, publishers were just beginning to expect that writers would maintain websites. Websites! Facebook and Twitter and the rest didn’t even exist. And when we signed contracts, writers could rightfully expect that our publishers would handle the bulk of the necessary publicity, which consisted mainly of taking out ads in journals, sending review copies to print magazines (kids, ask your parents) and other critical venues, setting up newspaper, radio, and television interviews, and arranging signing tours and individual store events.

My point being that the days of publisher-centric publicity have long since passed. Our jobs as writers have become far, far more demanding in so many ways. In the age of self-publishing, many of us are now required to get our own jacket artwork, to arrange for our own editing, to typeset our own books. But in today’s marketplace, ALL of us are responsible for creating audiences for our books. We are the ones who advertise our releases, who set up events, who make our marketing decisions. And social media gives us the opportunity to interact with and get to know our fans in ways I never would have dreamed possible at the outset of my career.

More than ever, we are not just writers. We are publicists and advertisers. We maintain our social media presence, and many of us also create additional content for blogs. All of these things can be time-sinks, and therein lies the danger. I know of many writers who, at the outsets of their careers, become so obsessed with “building a platform” or “establishing a fan base” or “finding their readership” that they leave themselves no time to do the one crucial thing all writers have to do to be successful: write their stories.

Yes, I am aware of the irony. Here I am blogging about the perils of spending too much time on one’s blog (among other things). But the danger is real, and it can become a trap for many. After so many years as a professional writer, I have gotten to the point where I can be productive on demand. I can turn out two one-thousand-word blog posts in a day and still have time left over to edit a couple of story manuscripts for the anthology, or I can get a couple of thousand words written on a work-in-progress and then write a thousand words more for the blog. I couldn’t have done this early in my career; writing in volume and switching gears among various professional tasks are skills I have developed over years. I think if I had started my career ten or fifteen years later, I would have struggled mightily to build my audience and simultaneously write my novels.

I have managed to maintain the regular Monday and Wednesday features of this blog, to turn out material on a regular basis, by making blogging a habit. I devote one day a week — usually the same day each week — to getting the posts written. Yes, I am sorry to blow-up such a carefully maintained illusion, but I DON’T write my blog posts on the days they go up. Sometimes, when I know I’ll be traveling during a given week, I will have posts, particularly the Professional Wednesday entries, scheduled a week or two in advance. I try not to allow post deadlines to loom. Why? Because currently I enjoy maintaining this blog and I don’t want it to become A Thing I Dread. And more to the point, I don’t want it ever to get in the way of work I have to do.

The Chalice War-Stone, by David B. CoeBlogging and social media are extras. Yes, in this day and age, they are important extras. Crucial, some might say. We have to publicize our books, or no one will buy them or read them. But as vital as this part of the job might seem, I would once again turn the previous phrase on its head: We have to publicize in order to be read? Yes, we do. But more important by far is this: We have to write the books in order for any of that publicity to be worth a damn.

Writers write. As I said earlier, the single most important thing we can do to further our careers, to build our audiences, to draw the notice of the industry, is write our fiction (or non-fiction, if that’s your thing). If you can maintain your output while also spending time each day blogging and feeding the social media beast, good for you. You’re more accomplished than I am. But if you find that you’re not getting as much done on your stories and books as you would like, check to see if maybe you’re spending too much time on the other stuff. And if you are, make the adjustment.

Platforms are great. But if you don’t have books to sell from them, all you’ve got is a flat expanse of wood.

Keep writing.

Professional Wednesday: Preparing For the Coming Year

December has come to my little corner of the Cumberland Plateau. The trees are bare, days of gray skies and cold winds outnumber the blue, chickadees and nuthatches, titmice and woodpeckers and cardinals flock to my feeders. Yes, we still have nearly a month left in 2022, but already these remaining weeks feel foreshortened. The holidays will gobble up much of our time and energy in the closing days of the month, and we will be distracted by all the preparations for family get-togethers and the like.

Which is as it should be. The past two years have seen our holidays strained and, for some, ruined by the pandemic. We deserve a holiday season.

Already, though, my professional thinking has turned to 2023. In past years, I have written about my penchant for mapping out my professional year, trying to plan for the many projects I intend to take on in the months to come. I didn’t write a post of this sort last year, because of the uncertainty surrounding our daughter’s health, and the fresh memory of how so many of my plans were upended in 2020 and 2021 by the pandemic, by family issues, by emotional strain, etc. The fact is, my professional plans are always just that: plans, intentions, hopes even. Nothing more.

And so I approach the coming year with a bit more humility than I did in the years before Covid and before my family’s health crisis. Any work calendar I create will be written in pencil, not pen.

But I also understand that planning out my work calendar helps me, and I believe you might find it helpful to create a similar plan for your coming year.

Right now, I am struggling to decide what major writing project I will take on next. I have posted about this before, and have asked for input from followers of my work and this blog. Yet, still I haven’t been able to decide on a path forward. That’s fine for now. I have stories to read for the Artifice and Craft anthology. I have a story to write for the Dragonesque anthology. I have a couple of editing clients interested in engaging me for some work. In short, I have no shortage of things to keep me busy.

I’d be lying, though, if I said I wasn’t missing the allure of the new shiny. One of the things a work calendar does is keep me looking forward. Often a project supplies its own momentum. The desire to see it through to the end, to complete the damn thing, is usually enough to keep me on task. Now and then, though, I need the carrot of the next project to pull me through. “When I finish this, I get to work on X.”

Put another way, I don’t have to decide right now what major writing project to take on in 2023. I am certain, however, that if I can decide and hold that next project out as the prize I get for completing other things, it will make reading anthology slush a little easier.

I also find a work calendar helpful as I seek to manage my own professional expectations. It’s easy to look at a blank calendar and think, “I have all year to get X,Y, and Z finished.” As it happens, this is rarely the case. Already I know that I’ll be editing short stories for much of January and preparing for the releases of The Chalace War books starting in February and continuing through the spring. (Oh, and here’s the art for book I again, just because I love it so much . . . .) Plus, non-writing stuff is bound to impinge on my writing time. We need to do some work on our house, and that will also probably come in the spring. The work promises to be disruptive. There is no way I’ll be as productive as usual while it’s going on.The Chalice War-Stone, by David B. Coe

I need to take all of this into account while planning my schedule. Because even if some of my deadlines are self-imposed (rather than coming from a publisher) I know that missing them can disrupt the work to follow. It can also have an impact on my mood, on my self-confidence as an artist. We should always keep our expectations for ourselves realistic. The last thing we want to do is set ourselves up for repeated failures by expecting too much from ourselves and not taking into account time commitments we have to make to other parts of our lives. This is not to say that we should budget too much time for projects. There is a balance to be found. We want to push ourselves to accomplish tasks that matter to us, without expecting so much that we can’t help but fail. A work calendar helps me with that.

So as the year winds down, and as I sit in front of a fire, or in front of yet another World Cup soccer match, I will be working on my work calendar, mapping out a strategy for getting done all I hope to accomplish, and also for managing the inevitable disruptions that life — both professional and private — tends to throw in our path. It’s easy to do. I receive calendars in the mail all the time from the various charities we give to each year. I always reserve one of those calendars for this.

Best of luck with your 2023, whether or not you map it out ahead of time.

And, of course, keep writing.

Professional Wednesday: The Chalice War, Book I Cover Reveal!!

For some time now, I’ve been writing about and teasing my new Celtic urban fantasy, The Chalice War. The series is part thriller, part comedy, part myth, part urban fantasy, part mystery. It is set in our modern world — all over it, in fact: book I takes place in the U.S.; book II shifts the action to Australia, and book III is set in Ireland — but the series also draws heavily on Celtic lore. It is unlike anything I’ve written before. Each volume was a ton of fun to write, and will be, I hope, just as much fun to read. I love these books and I am incredibly excited about their upcoming release.

The first book, The Chalice War: Stone, should be out from Bell Bridge Books in February 2023. The second book, The Chalice War: Cauldron, will follow within a month or two, and the trilogy’s finale, The Chalice War: Sword, will drop not too long after that.

Today, I am delighted to share with you the incredible jacket art for book I, which was created by my brilliant editor and publisher, Debra Dixon. Drumroll please . . . .

The Chalice War-Stone, by David B. Coe

Monday Musings (On Tuesday): Back From DragonCon

I have spent this past weekend at DragonCon, catching up with friends, meeting new people, and returning an air of normalcy to my professional calendar. To be honest, I went into the weekend a bit reluctantly. I was excited to catch up with friends, but I was nervous about little things — Covid exposure at a convention attended by tens of thousands, and also just being back among so many people after a difficult year in which I have, to the extent possible, tended to avoid public activities.

As it turned out, being among people was fine. Not always easy, but definitely not as difficult as I feared. My friends know me well enough (and are thoughtful enough) to understand how to be supportive and sympathetic without being intrusive. And others . . . well, there’s no rule that says we have to bare our souls to all we meet, right? It’s okay sometimes to put on a smile and answer “How are you doing?” with the immediate truth rather than the longer-term assessment. “I’m good thanks [at this moment]. How are you?”

This all should be second nature, I know. People do this stuff all the time. But it’s not always easy to give ourselves room to be private when we’re in public spaces and situations. And as for the Covid exposure . . . Time (and antigen tests) will tell.

My panels — on writing, urban fantasy, high fantasy, alternate history — were fun. Good discussions and excellent work by our moderators. It was, as always, so great to talk shop with fellow pros and answer terrific questions from engaged, informed audiences. My reading was attended by a few fans, and the occasion allowed me the opportunity to try out the opening chapters from my latest project, the Celtic urban fantasy I’ve been writing about recently in this blog and on social media. I read from The Fugitive Stone, book I in the series. The chapters were very well-received.

In fact, I should say that every time I mentioned the Celtic series (which STILL needs a series name) the response from people was very positive. Interest, enthusiasm even, and lots of eager curiosity. I’m excited.

I missed home, of course. I am a homebody when it comes right down to it, and I would always rather be with Nancy than not. And at this point, I’m pretty exhausted. It’ll take me half the week to recover and settle back into work and routine. But it was worth it. DragonCons are ALWAYS worth it.

To my friends who were at the con — you know who you are — thank you for contributing to a great weekend. To those who attended the panels, as well as my reading and signing, thank you so much for taking time out of your con to listen and chat with us. We appreciate it more than you can know. Without you, there is no con. And finally, to the con organizers and track leaders, thank you so much for all you do. Your hard work and selfless efforts make possible everything that the rest of us enjoy so much.

Already looking forward to next year.