Another cover for another book I have yet to finish writing.
“Oh hey, did you hear about BQB? He ended up in the poorhouse, spent all his dough on book covers for books he never finished writing. What an asshole.”
Oh well, what say you 3.5 readers?
Bookshelf Battle
The only site where new bestsellers are forced to do battle for space on a nerd's bookshelf.
Tag Archives: self publishing
Zomcation – My Favorite Chapters So Far
Hey 3.5.
I was just going over Zomcation and there are three chapters that really tickled my funny bone. Hope you will check them out.
While you’re at it, don’t forget to vote in my Zomcation book cover contest.
Chapter 11 – In this book, a Republican and a Democrat have teamed up as President and Vice-President. President Stugotz is a Trump clone while Vice-President Pierce is a Hillary wannabe. They fight and bicker constantly. General Merrick tries his best to remain calm as Stugotz goes to one extreme and demands that all the zombies be nuked while Pierce goes to the other extreme and demands that everyone should coddle the zombies and give them free, government subsidized brains. In the end, they agree on one thing – they’ll deny all culpability and pin it all on Merrick.
Chapter 15 – Mister Reynaldo, an eccentric male diva/ex-off, off, off incredibly off Broadway star informs Jess that she can no longer play Princess Paulina because she turned 30. For Jess, it’s now the Willy Wombat mascot costume or bust.
Chapter 23 – Wombat World Security Guard Doug has a classic, cop TV show fight with the Chief of Wombat World security. It ends with the Chief relieving Doug of his wombat shaped badge and security whistle. Doug must now decide whether to give up or go rogue and search for his partner, who really isn’t his partner, but just an old man he stood next to and annoyed regularly.
Vote for My Zomcation Book Cover Contest
Zomcation is the best book ever written about an ex-soldier guilted by his depressed, divorced sister, social media addicted niece and hipster nephew into taking a vacation to an amusement park dedicated to a cartoon wombat only to end up fighting hordes of zombies when a Doomsday cult infects the park’s soda supply with a zombifying virus.
I can smell the literary awards now. Mmm. Smells like chicken.
Please vote for your cover here.
And please, really vote. I’m having a hard time making up my mind.
State of the Bookshelf – BQB’s Production Schedule
Hey 3.5 readers.
So, I’ve developed a bad habit. Whenever I feel down, I commission a book cover.
It’s ok. I’m gone to be done at three for awhile.
The other day I went back, looked at Zomcation, and realized that yeah, it’s pretty funny. It’s also 50,000 words I rattled off in a month, leaving me to realize if the plot takes place in the present, there isn’t much to research, and it’s just a goofy project, the words come faster.
So I turned the 99 Design artists loose again. Here’s my latest poll, please vote.
Here’s where my mind is:
THIS YEAR – Finish and publish BQB’s Writing Prompts, Zom Fu and Zomcation.
NEXT YEAR – Finish and publish three of my Zombie Western Books.
YEAR THREE – Depends how the books are doing but I would like to work on some of my mysteries. We’ll see if anyone is clamoring for sequels.
At any rate, I’m not going to start anything that hasn’t already been started. Whatever has started so far will be finished before a new idea is worked on and this is difficult because, believe me, I have so many ideas.
It’s time I’m getting short on. It’s do or die time and I need to start churning out books if I’m ever going to have some time to enjoy being a self-publisher.
Plus, I need to throw my NWA style pool party. Also, I have to save the world with my writing in order to stave off the Mighty Potentate’s invasion.
Thank you for listening, 3.5 readers. Let me know if you have any advice or if you think any of my half written works deserves to be moved up in the production schedule.
Ask the Alien – 1/24/17 – How Do Aliens Poop?
Intergalactic Correspondent/Non-Pants Wearer Alien Jones
Greetings Earth Losers.
Alien Jones here, beaming this column directly to your primitive computing devices from the farthest reaches of the Omekulon Cluster. I don’t want to disparage the fine folks of this Cluster, but let’s just say, they didn’t invent the term, “Clusterf*%k” for nothing.
How have you 3.5 humans been? I feel we haven’t chatted in awhile. I could say I miss it but, you know, the dictatorial regime that presides over my home planet didn’t clone a liar.
As you know, this is the only column in the universe where pitiful humans have an opportunity to ask questions of me, an all knowing alien.
This one comes Shelly Ruckschplittle of Doofendorf, Montana:
Dear Alien Jones,
How do aliens poop? I have always wanted to know and I spend several hours a day pondering this question.
Several hours a day? Shelly, I hate to channel BQB’s Uncle Hardass, but seriously, get a job.
The immediate answer is, “It depends.” All living beings remove waste. Some just do it more efficiently than others.
For example, highly refined clones such as myself have been tricked out so that our tummies are essentially spontaneous combustion machines. Thus, I can eat and eat and eat and never gain any weight. My food is converted to energy and any excess is burned up with no need for poop.
Therefore, my only orifice is my mouth. The rest of me is airtight.
Here are how some other aliens poop:
- Splattavarians poop gold coins. No one is poor on Splattavaria. However, banks are very smelly.
- Fozdavoks poop fire. Every bathroom is equipped with a titanium bucket and a fire extinguisher. Chili night has been banned ever since Fozdavok City was wiped out.
- Mayorps poop songs. Hilarious yet true. Just take a Mayorp out to dinner and be prepared for a heartwarming rendition of “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina.” You’ll cry from the oniony aroma.
- Hoobavongs poop black holes. Ironic isn’t it? Black holes emanating from their black holes. Many hoobavongian proctologists have been lost. Where did they end up? Your guess is as good as mine.
- Chuzzlefrings can actually transfer their poops to one another. Thus, if you’re a very busy Chuzzlefring with no time to poop, you can transfer your poop to your assistant. The most common frat party gag is for everyone to transfer their poops to a sleepy Chuzzlefring, who then ends up pooping a mountain in the morning.
I could get into the beings who poop radiation, disease, famine, locusts, and autographed photos of Justin Bieber, but I won’t bore you. Suffice to say, there are many aliens who poop in strange, magical ways.
Thank you for your attention, 3.5 readers. As always, stay on BQB’s back and continue to encourage him to write his novels in order to appease the Mighty Potentate. (I don’t even want to get into the details of how the Mighty Potentate poops. I could tell you, but he’d have me vaporized).
All Hail the Mighty Potentate and His Most Glorious, Awe-Inspiring Poops.
Alien Jones is the Bookshelf Battle Blog’s intergalactic correspondent, graciously lending the power of his brain to answer your questions.
Ask the Alien a question and he may very well plug your book or blog in his answer. Ask questions in the comments or tweet them to @bookshelfbattle
Together, we can promote self-published material and ween the masses off reality television, a form of entertainment that Alien Jones’ boss, the maniacal alien despot known as “The Mighty Potentate” despises so much that he’s plotting an invasion of Earth just to stop it.
BQB Writing Prompts Book Progress
Well, 3.5 readers. It finally happened.
I got a draft of a book finished that I felt was worthy enough to print out:
I know. Very exciting. But this is big. I believe it will get done and sooner rather than later.
Glengarry Glen Ross: Self-Publishing Edition (Or, Always Be Self-Publishing)
BQB’s EDITORIAL NOTE: 3.5 readers, I heard a rumor you guys are struggling with your self-publishing ventures lately, so I invited a special guest speaker to come in and motivate you. Please welcome a young Alec Baldwin in his prime.
Blake:
Let me have your attention for a moment! So you’re talking about what? You’re talking about…(puts out his cigarette)…bitching about that book launch you shot, some son of a bitch reader that doesn’t want to read your book, somebody that doesn’t want to read what you’re writing, some broad you’re trying to screw but she won’t screw you because writers never get laid and so forth. Let’s talk about something important. Are they all here?
Williamson:
All but one.
Blake:
Well, I’m going anyway. Let’s talk about something important. (To Levene) Put that coffee down! Coffee’s for self-publishers only. (Levene scoffs). Do you think I’m fucking with you? I am not fucking with you. I’m here from downtown. I’m here from a primo e-book sales site. I’m here on a mission of mercy. Your name’s Levene?
Levene:
Yeah.
Blake:
You call yourself a self-publisher, you son of a bitch?
Moss:
I don’t have to listen to this shit.
Blake:
You certainly don’t, pal. ‘Cause the good news is you’re fired from my platform. The bad news is you’ve got, all you got, just one week to regain your jobs as self-publishers, starting tonight. Starting with tonight’s word count session. Oh, have I got your attention now? Good. ‘Cause we’re adding a little something to this month’s self-publishing contest. As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac El Dorado. Anyone want to see second prize? Second prize is a box of steak knives. (Holds up box of knives).
Third prize is you’re fired. You get the picture. You laughing now? You’ve got words. That fuck who wrote the dictionary went to a lot of trouble to get you those words. Think about the right word combinations and write them!
You can’t finish writing a book with the words you’ve been given then you can’t write for shit. You ARE shit, so hit the bricks pal and beat it because you are going out!
Levene:
The words are weak.
Blake:
‘The words are weak.’ The fucking words are weak? You’re weak. I’ve been in the self-publishing business for fifteen years. That’s right. I went back in time and told myself to start self-publishing before any of this shit was even invented.
Moss:
What’s your name?
Blake:
Fuck you! That’s my name. You know why, Mister? Because you wrote your novel tonight on a bargain basement, second hand Dell and I wrote my novel on a state of the art, top of the line Mac Book Pro. That’s my name!
(To Levene) – And your name is “you’re wanting to self-publish but you’re too chicken shit to get off your ass and do it.” You can’t play in a man’s game. You can’t close out a book.
(To Everyone) – Because only one thing counts in this life! Get readers to read your books! Do you hear me, you fucking losers?
(Blake points to a blackboard. Two sets of letters are written on it: “ABS” and “ADIY.”)
Blake:
A-B-C. A-always, B-be, S-self-publishing. Always be self-publishing! Always be self-publishing.
A-D-I-Y. Always Do It Yourself. Stop waiting for those traditional publishing pricks to give you the keys to the golden kingdom because it’s never going to happen. Are you going to do it yourself? I know you are because it’s fuck or walk. You self-publish or you hit the bricks!
Do it yourself! Who else are you going to do it for? Christ? Take action. Get out there!
You’ve got the readers coming in. You think they came in to get out of the rain? The guy doesn’t come to your online book sales page unless he wants to read. He is sitting out there waiting to give you his money!
Are you gonna take it? Are you man enough to take it? (to Moss) What’s the problem pal? You! Moss!
Moss:
You’re such a hero. You’re so rich. Why are you coming down here just to waste your time on a bunch of bums?
(Blake takes off his gold watch and shows it to Moss).
Blake:
You see this watch? You see this watch?
Moss:
Yeah.
Blake:
This watch costs more than your car. I made $970,000 on self-publishing last year, mostly on one book that had a really descriptive scene about a giant pair of titties. How much did you make? You see, pal, that’s who I am. And you’re nothing. Nice guy? I don’t give a shit. Good father? Fuck you. Go home and play with your kids.
(To everyone) – You want to self-publish here? Finish writing a book! You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksuckers? You can’t take this, how are you going to take it when your book gets a one star review?
You don’t like it? Leave. I can go out there tonight with the words you’ve got and write myself fifteen thousand books. Tonight! In two hours! Can you? Can you? Go and do likewise!
A-D-I-Y! Get mad! Get mad, you sons of bitches! You know what it takes to sell books?
(Blake pulls a set of brass balls out of his brief case and dangles it in front of his crotch).
Blake:
It takes a set of brass balls to sell books.
Go and do likewise, gents. The money’s out there. You pick it up? It’s yours. You don’t? I have no sympathy for you. You wanna go out on those word count sessions tonight and rack up big counts then those words are yours. If not, you’re going to be shining my shoes.
Bunch of losers sitting around in a bar. (Speaks in a sad tone). “Oh yeah, I used to be a self-publisher. It’s a tough racket.”
(Blake takes a stack of index cards out of his briefcase).
These are the new words. These are the Glengarry words. And to you, they’re gold. And you don’t get them. Why? Because to give these words to you would be to just throw them away.
These words are for self-publishers. I’d wish you good luck but you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it.
(To Moss) – And to answer your question, pal. Why am I here? I came here because the book sales site asked me to. They asked me for a favor. I said, ‘The real favor? Follow my advice and fire your fucking ass because a loser is a loser.’
(Blake heads into interior office).
Zom Fu Book Cover
Behold, 3.5 readers, the book cover for Zom Fu in all of its brain yanking glory.
Now I just need to finish writing the book.
What say you, 3.5 readers?
Daily Discussion with BQB – Is Self-Publishing an Insult to the Written Word?
Ugh. Publishing elitism.
Laurie Gough recently wrote in the Huffington Post:
“To get a book published in the traditional way, and for people to actually respect it and want to read it — you have to go through the gatekeepers of agents, publishers, editors, national and international reviewers. These gatekeepers are assessing whether or not your work is any good. Readers expect books to have passed through all the gates, to be vetted by professionals. This system doesn’t always work out perfectly, but it’s the best system we have.”
-Laurie Gough, “Self-Publishing: An Insult To the Written Word.” The Huffington Post. December 29, 2016
I’ll let you read the article yourself but to sum it up, after claiming that she would rather “share a cabin on a Disney cruise with Donald Trump than self-publish” she goes on to explain that good writing takes years of rejection, that it is a self-imposed apprenticeship, that only by going through the gatekeepers is good writing achieved.
Ugh. OK, on one hand she is correct. Writing, like any other skill, takes time to develop. The more you work on it, the better you’ll get.
However, let’s not pretend that “the gatekeepers” are really doing anything to actually help you get better at writing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, when you submit a manuscript to an agent or a publisher, you’ll get a form letter stating something to the effect of, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
You won’t get a marked up manuscript showing all the mistakes you made so you can improve.
You won’t get a nice letter saying, “You got moxie, kid. Just do this and this and that and you’re going places!”
You won’t get anyone offering to sit down with you and go over what you need to do to improve.
You’ll get a form rejection letter and that’s only if your submission doesn’t get lost in the zillions of other submissions the agents and publishers receive on a daily basis.
She’s not without a point. If you do get into the traditional publishing system, there will editors, agents and pros that will help you improve yourself.
But that’s if you get into it. And as I’ve always said, giving up on self-publishing in the hopes that a lucrative self-publishing contract is on the horizon is a lot like giving up a kiss from a woman that likes you because maybe, just maybe one day Scarlett Johansson might want to kiss you.
She’s correct about how good writing requires a lot of time and hard work. And if traditional publishing is something you desire, then you should give it a try.
However, who has ten years to wait? And let’s not pretend that they are a bevy of “gatekeepers” waiting in the wings to guide you.
The writing world sucks. If you get into it at a young age, there are a handful of success stories where people hit it big early but for the rest, it’s a long, hard slog uphill where you make crap pay and work crap hours in the hopes that maybe, just maybe one of those gatekeepers will hook you up.
Self-publishing lets you make things happen on your own.
Yes, many people are lousy writers who have no filter or ability to comprehend they are crap writers. They hit the publish button on a pile of crap and then drag down the whole self-publishing industry.
You can’t just whip something out in an afternoon, draw a cover with crayon, then slap it up there and expect to get anywhere.
It just seems like many critics of self-publishing, this author is painting all self-publishers with a broad brush.
And finally, can we just be honest and say that regardless of your personal politics, it would be fun to share a cabin with Donald Trump on a Disney cruise? The man would probably buy you drinks and cigars and shit. He’d fill the cabin with hot chicks. It’d be a party every night. Order whatever you want and the bill is on him. He’d bring the family and Melania would wear a different supermodel outfit everyday and Ivanka would give you free fashion advice. He’d write wacky tweets about Mickey Mouse. You would surely walk away from the experience with some interesting stories to tell.
What say you, 3.5 readers?
State of the Bookshelf – 12/8/16
Hey 3.5 readers.
Time for a State of the Bookshelf address.
First, check out the 3D cover of my upcoming book:
You know 3.5, I have to say it. This book cover is a small victory for me.
Maybe one day I’ll share my trials and tribulations but suffice to say, I’ve been through some shit. I’m ambitious. I try hard. I work hard. Yet inevitably, for as long as I can remember, I always end up landing flat on my face.
Life has always been like Lucy holding that football. There have been many times where I, in a Charlie Brown-like manner, would assume I was about to make it (i.e. kick that football) only to have life (or Lucy) take the football away leaving me (just like Charlie) flat on my ass.
I wonder if Charles Schultz ever realized how he captured a brilliant metaphor to explain how people can only try and fail so many times before they give up. Maybe that’s why Charlie is so lovable. He kept trying to kick that football even though defeat was certain.
I often wonder why I don’t give up, why I keep Charlie Brown-ing it. But lately, I think I’m Langston Hughes-ing it:
Dreams – Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Yeah, there are many more practical things I could be doing than blogging and writing, especially when my many attempts at kicking life’s football have left me shouting, “Uggh!” before rolling over and over again through the air then landing on my butt.
Yet, what’s the alternative? I’ve got to hold onto the dream because Langston is right. Without dreams, life is a field of barren snow.
So I must keep giving Lucy the chance to pull that football away to avoid a snowy life, if that makes any sense.
All this is a very longwinded way of saying that I don’t feel like the football was pulled away from me in this respect. I got off my butt, I did something, I set up a design contest, I talked to some designers and I got a pretty sweet cover.
I started out a pessimist. I thought it wouldn’t work out. But it did. Lucy let my toe briefly tap the ball and that’s a step in the right direction.
3.5 readers, I hate to set an arbitrary date but I really need you all to become 3.5 million readers by 2020. That’s more or less the last year where I could conceivably use my prospective book writing moolah to throw a wild, lavish party ala that party scene in the NWA biopic Straight Outta Compton.
Yeah. I know. That’s a lot of pressure to put on myself. I’m not sure people could get excited enough about books to support an NWA style party in the name of books. (You have to see the party scene in that movie to know what I’m talking about).
But at any rate, that’s my gauge for success. Malibu mansion to throw NWA style party in to celebrate my writing career by 2020. If it happens in 2021, that’ll be too late. The millions coming in 2022 or 2023 won’t matter. Give me millions in 2025 and I’ll just smile and nod and then donate it to charity or some shit because by then I will have lost my ability to care.
Malibu NWA style party to celebrate my book career by 2020 or bust! And you all 3.5 of you are invited.
Hey, by the way, before I go back to yeti captivity, you nerds have put me over 2000 followers.
Thanks for listening, 3.5. The state of the bookshelf is strong.
Bookshelf Battle 