Scarlet Letters

Saturday was my anniversary. No, not that one. Ten years ago Saturday, I sat down at my husband's beat-up old IBM notebook and signed up for what was then called Stories.com. People often ask me how long I've been a writer. I reply that it's like asking how long I've had brown eyes. That much is true: I was writing tragic Smurf fanfic at the age of seven, ludicrously overwrought poetry through my tweens, an awful science-fiction novella at seventeen and plays filled with angst through college. But I wasn't a writer. It was just something I did for fun. Writers were people who had clout, who knew something special, who had agents that got their books printed up and put in bookstores. I just cobbled about some words for fun. In college I printed up a half-dozen copies of that terrible novella and gave it to friends for their amusement, and that was as close as I expected to come for publication. To borrow a metaphor from Stephen King's On Writing, I thoug...

It's my first national trade article. This month's edition of Quill Magazine is the all-ethics edition. Quill, of course, is the trade mag for the Society of Professional Journalists. I was asked to write the Toolbox article, in which I distilled my one-hour lecture on developing a personal ethics code for journalists down to 600 words. Here it is. I was honored to be asked, considering my relative youth and slight credentials compared to the rest of the ethics commission. I was especially honored since I have publicly disagreed with some of the national organization's decisions this year, authoring two position papers on behalf of the St. Louis chapter, and still they let me hang around and talk. I am always proud to be part of this organization. Oh, and speaking of which: I gave that same speech at the regional conference this past weekend in Kansas City, and got a better reception than I ever have. They listened, they took notes, they laughed at my lame jokes, and ...

You know, I don't mind when businesses screw up. I understand more than most how things can go kablooey. For us at the Literary Underworld, it's the peril of doing business with the U.S. Postal Service. Yes, they do the best they can. But I stopped using book rate after roughly one half of our orders went missing over the course of three months. Now I use Priority Mail only, and still sometimes I hear from a customer that a shipment never arrived. It doesn't matter how long it's been since the order was placed. It doesn't matter whether the customer has proof or paid for delivery confirmation. I replace the order at our expense. Why? Because that customer will buy from us again someday, and if I stomp my foot and whine about the replacement cost, that customer will never come back. For example, once I ordered take-out, and it arrived without the salad. We didn't notice until after the delivery man was gone, so I called. All I wanted was for them to remove ...

As demonstrated by my good friend Angelia Sparrow, here's six sentence from the upcoming King of Swords . (I cheated. It's slightly over six sentences.) Gently Coleen turned the yoke, caressing the handles between her fingers. The ship danced under her touch, nimbly ducking beneath the docking ring and soaring away from the station. She loved this part, the way the ship responded to her touch, a natural symbiosis as she flew around the border patrols and between the satellites toward open space. The lightness of the yoke in her hands made it an extension of herself, and she could feel the energy vibrating through the ship up from its pumping engines to the very lights in the ceiling above her. She realized that Hancock was watching her. “I love to watch you fly,” Hancock said. Coleen grinned. “Better than sex.” She reconsidered. “Almost.”

Oh, Midsouthcon. I love you even though you gave me confluenza. I love you even though the most horrific panel of my life happened this weekend. I loved you when we were at the Airport Hotel, and I loved you when we were in the Escher Hotel, and now that we're in a giant beer can I love you even more. (It helps that you buy my books.)   FRIDAY We can never just go to con. There’s always something we forgot, or some last brilliant idea. In this case it was both: I forgot contact lens solution and I realized I needed a shiny laminated sign for the Blackfire package deal. So we left the Tylers, thanking them mightily for hosting us when Extended Stay America left us sad by the side of the road . On to Walgreens and Kinkos, and only twice was asked by a random stranger if I had accepted Jesus in my heart. Really, Memphis? I’ve missed you, but I thought my years in the choir got me off the hook. On to the con, where the Spawn helped me unload and set up the booth. This goes muc...

Oh, Extended Stay. We had a good run, you and me. You were all seductive, with your kitchenettes that made it possible for me to eschew budget-killing restaurants and your awesome $35-a-night prices. I've done half my tours from your hotels, rather uncomfortable but still with the cheap. So as has been my practice, I booked a night in the local extended stay place for the night before the show, saving myself $60 by not adding a night to my stay at the Hilton. QED. Except on my way to Memphis today, I called the hotel to tell them we were running late and they told me they had no reservation for me. Whahuh? No reservation? But you've already taken my money! I saw it deducted from my account this morning! No, that reservation was for two days ago, and you were a no-show, they told me. That may be what their computer says, but I know what day I clicked. Too bad, they're full up tonight, they said. So I found myself twenty minutes from the author kaffeeklatsch and with no...

What, you don't get enough of my yammering here? Too bad! • I'm the first guest in a two-parter for DragonTalk Radio , talking to the inestimable Jon Klement about zombies, The Cold Ones, the con lifestyle, zombies, Literary Underworld, Blackfire and zombies. Jon is, as always, a very genial host and a lot of fun to chat with. Even if I end sentences in prepositions and he forgets the name of the author cooperative in which he is a MEMBER. (No, Jon, ain't lettin' it go till I see you and smack you.) • I was the guest commenter with the Back Seat Producers a few weeks ago, when they spent the hour discussing Jaws. I think I did a good job defending Bruce the Shark and Mr. Spielberg himself. As per usual, the conversation... uh, wandered. (The shark as a metaphor for male impotence?) This might have been helped along by the excellent rum served by Tony Mast, who is zookeeper of the BSP. Seriously, I had a lot of fun and would gladly return the next time they'r...

Hello denizens! I've got so much stuff going on I need to make a list to keep track of it. So how could I possibly expect YOU could keep up with it? Thus, this helpful post. • First, I'm going to be on Jon Klement's DragonTalk Radio show tomorrow night! (That's Thursday.) You can listen to the show live as we record it, or check it out later for the recording. We'll talk zombies, the con life and how much I'm going to kill him for forgetting the name of the Literary Underworld during his interview last week with Jimmy Gillentine. • We'll also have a reader chat on March 16 beginning at 7 p.m. CST in the Wilderness Chat Room . It's been a while since we did this, so as usual there will be ridiculous trivia questions, door prizes and nonsense for those brave enough to show up. Be there! We'll be chatting until 9 p.m. or until I'm the only one left in the room, so come join us! • The Infinity novella is now available in Kindle, PDF and c...

Coming out at the end of the month: Blackfire, the sequel to my bestselling zombie novella The Cold Ones. And we really want you to preorder this book, so we're offering a whoooole bunch of freebies. • Order Blackfire before March 30, and you'll receive a free emergency zombie kit! • Order both The Cold Ones and Blackfire , and you'll also receive an autographed chapbook of the chilling novella Infinity. And you'll get them for less than cover price – only $15 for all four items. Preorders are only available through The Literary Underworld . Buy today! Don't miss this deal! Sara Harvey just wanted to be left alone, listening to the voices of the sea. Washing the blood from her hands. But duty calls her back, to a new team still learning to fight the things that go chomp in the night. They will give Sara one last mission, one way to quiet the voices. One chance at redemption. It should have been nothing, a minor problem on the dark cobblestone wharf...

Boy's class is studying Greek mythology. They're going to show Clash of the Titans and thus we had to sign a permission slip because it's PG-13. They're showing them the new one. BOY: Mom! ME: What. BOY: Why did you write this on my permission slip? ME: I wrote my name. BOY: You said, "Under protest! Too bad it isn't a good movie!" Smiley face, Elizabeth Donald. ME: That's right. It was a sucky movie. BOY: It was not! ME: It was too! It was even bad mythology! Release the Kraken my ass, the Kraken was Norse mythology! You can't teach good mythology with a bad movie! BOY: It was a bad movie. But we can't watch the original. It had nudism. ME: Oh my goodness! You might see... boobies! Gasp! BOY: *helpless giggling fit* ME: Go to school. And don't tell them I said that. (Yes, I know the original also replaced Ceto from the Greek myths with the goddamn Kraken. I didn't say the old one was a good movie either.)

I freely admit that I don't get how Amazon picks its "buy these two for almost the same price!" deals. I mean, I get that they're going to put my vamp books with some damn Twilight knockoff, because of course all vampire books are the same. Head, desk, repeat. Sometimes they get it right, such as when they put Nocturne and Abaddon together. I mean, they are in the same series. And maybe if you don't look too closely, you won't notice that the price for both books is exactly the same as it would be buying them separately, or that you could get both books directly from me , signed, for a whole lot less. But whose fucking brilliant idea was it to put my decidedly non-sexual collection of horror and science fiction Twilight-Zone- style creepified stories ... with the Hitachi Magic Wand? I am not making this up. On the off chance one or two of you don't know, the Hitachi Magic Wand is a giant vibrator. Really? Which is the sexier story - the guerri...

Today's dinner break was a quick run to the grocery store, as we are out of everything. It was the funniest grocery trip in ages. My local grocery also has a full-service florist and a chocolatier. And every time I turned a corner, there was another confused male standing in front of a display, looking chagrined. One guy stared at the chocolate-covered strawberries for so long I wanted to go over to him and say, "It's okay, man. I swear she'll like them." The line at the florist counter was five deep. All men. The card aisle: thronged with men. Each of them with this stunned look on their faces. I felt the need to Tweet. ME: It is hilarious watching all the men staring blankly at flower and chocolate displays. Guys, you knew this was coming. How could you miss it? JIMMY: Hon, we're dumb. ME: No man better complain about excessive V-Day ads, is all I'm saying. JIMMY: Yep. As I stood in the checkout line, there was a girl of no more than twenty be...

It's been a couple of years since I updated my database of independent bookstores. When I created the list in 2007, there were 579 appropriate, viable bookstores on it. Today there are 505. That's pretty awful, but when you consider the impact of the economy in the last three years, it's not nearly as bad as it could have been. Considering that overall, only half of new small businesses survive their first five years, it's pretty damned good. I'm happy to see that a lot of bookstores that had eschewed the internet now have web sites. And web sites of their own, not just listings in Booksense. You would think that, say, an independent bookseller on the Upper East Side of Manhattan would know that it should have a web site, but apparently bookstores are among the last to join us here on our intertubes. Here's the thing: I'm betting there are a lot of good, viable bookstores that haven't made my list yet. There are 1200+ booksellers in the American Book...

Stephen Zimmer with Seventh Star Press interviews me about the Literary Underworld and my secret plan for world domination . In which I talk about the state of the small press, big box vs. indie bookstores, the challenges with fitting the booth in my Camry and the pain of sending rejection letters. With secret bonus plans for next year's insanity! EDIT: Meanwhile, Author Adventures says nice things about Stephen saying nice things about me. Oh, and about my wish for a van. I would totally paint our giant half-skull on the side, I'm just saying.

As my father told me, the hardest part of being a parent is not laughing in front of them when they do something hilariously boneheaded. ME: [All Three Names]!* BOY: What! ME: What in heaven's name did you do to the molasses! It's all over the counter! BOY: ... ME: Tell the truth. BOY: You know how you're always saying, "slow as molasses in January"? ME: Yes.** BOY: Well, I saw the jug of molasses, and I wondered how slow molasses is, so I turned it upside down and the cap was loose and - ME: You were trying to see how slow molasses in January is? BOY: *nodsnods* ME: It's not January! BOY: It's December, it's close enough! ME: Go clean up the counter! And then I went in the other room to laugh myself silly. * Some things are universal. When Mom calls you with first, middle and last names, you're in trouble. ** As my mother told me, and her mother told her: "You're as slow as molasses in January!" Rinse, repeat.

Many years ago, I began writing stories of the Muse. She lives in my head, and she's the source of my work. She used to be the only source, but after a while she got some companions. She's not all that happy about it. Because I thought it might entertain you, I am reprinting some Chronicles of the Muse in this journal. And maybe it'll entice her to come back and visit me more often.  This was written while I was waiting for Nocturnal Urges to be released, and writing a novella that would eventually become Yellow Roses . The idea spawned by this dream eventually became "The Sheriff of Nottingham," which will be in my upcoming collection Moonlight Sonata . I named neither protagonist Matt. May 3, 2004 MUSE: You IDIOT! ME: Shh, someone might hear you. MUSE: Not likely, you moron. I'm in your head. ME: Yeah, well, it's not my fault. MUSE: We get a full lunch hour to work on the goddamn book and you don't recharge the laptop? ME: I did rec...

I feel rather like a deep-sea diver who is surfacing after a very long time underwater. The fall book tour (a.k.a. Deathmarch) is done. The new book (a.k.a. The Bitch) is done. The election is done. In fact, the only thing that isn't done is the laundry. But that's never done. Okay, technically I still have one more booksigning this Saturday. But since it doesn't require sleeping in a hotel or packing a suitcase, I say it doesn't count. I am slowly unearthing my kitchen and I might even get crazy and run a vacuum. Pretty soon I'll put that suitcase in the closet, because really, I won't need it for a couple of months. It's a heady feeling. Even better is this: last night I got home and realized that I did not have to work on the book. This might seem weird, but for months now I've been on the midnight shift. I work the day at the newspaper, then I get off duty and go be Mom for a while. Once the boy is in bed, then I break out the laptop and work...

I was trying desperately to get out the door on Thursday for a weekend of book sell-n-sign, but the Cooks Source nonsense exploded on the internet. Penned on the fly, I wrote the SPJ Ethics Committee's response on Code Words, the blog where we comment on breaking-news ethics issues. Not quite a press release or a white paper, mind you, and the words and opinions are my own. I haven't done this before, and I decided to go with my usual conversational tone rather than the more formal style I would use for other venues, because it's a blog. And the thing I like the most about blogs? I get to talk like a person. :) Enjoy me roasting Cooks Source.

HOW TO SURVIVE A HORROR MOVIE by Elizabeth Donald et al 1. If the house you're living in tells you to "GO AWAY," do it. Now.
 2. If you're a virgin, stay that way.
 3. If a killer with a knife is chasing you around the house, do not go upstairs. Go out the front door. 4. For the love of God, turn on the lights.
 5. Never split up.
 6. Never stoop over to see if the killer is dead. He's just waiting for you.
 7. Never get naked in front of a window.
 8. Avoid the following geographical locations, even on a bet: Amityville, Elm Street, Crystal Lake, Transylvania, remote islands, lover's lanes, secluded mountain resorts and all small towns in Maine.
 9. Never pick up hitchhikers.
 10. If a small town off the highway is deserted, it's probably for a very good reason.
 11. If your speedometer suddenly starts turning backward, trade the car.
 12. Never dig up strange-looking objects in the woods.
 13. Never bury pets or loved ones in old Native Am...

It's funny how the end of the rough draft always feels like I've spent the last mumblety months slugging it out with the Muse, and that bitch does not fight fair. I've got the bruises to prove it. Someday maybe rough drafts won't be like pulling teeth sans anesthetic. Someday I might even be able to write a book ONCE and be done with it. But no - whenever I write a book, the first draft is a long, awful slog through the story I know I want, and no matter how good I think I am, the book is never, ever as good as it was in my head. This one is no exception. Finishing the first draft always feels a bit of a letdown: "Well, that wasn't nearly as good as I thought it would be. I suuuuuck." It's the second draft when it gets fun. Because I'm deranged, I rewrite a book from scratch. As in, I retype the entire thing, rewriting as I go. I wish I could do like other authors; print out a copy, mark it up with red pen, make the changes and off we go. But...