I have wandered the bleak, apocalyptic landscape of independent publishing for nigh on ten years. scrabbling through the wreckage for a crust of book sale or book review, watching the corporations plunder the best seller lists and advertising venues, hovering on the edge hoping to pick off some of their leavings. Grim existence, this. But, one dark night I spotted a shining city on a distant hill and now, now, have made my way through its gates:
Alright, alright, bit overblown, but sometimes it feels like Road Warrior out here. You can either become an Amazon sensation like Mark Dawson or remain so obscure that if I send up a flare, the Iron Dome knocks it down.
Anyways, ever since Rebel E was exiled into the Great Empty, I have been stateless, with no home base to which I can deposit titles and seek advice and commiseration. Then, lo! A voice from the darkness when Genghis Jayne told me about IUPH (not a birth control device) and made intros and the Goddess of Indie, Lisa Orban, granted me entry. And I am feted with honied hummingbird wings and ambrosia.
I am transferring all of my titles to their umbrella, with a re-written Frank Vaughn and Southern Gothic as first offerings. Everything else will follow over the next few months. As well as some new stuff.