Kvetching! Pointless kvetching!

Ye gods, do I hate marketing and everything connected with it.  I want to flip a switch that magically makes everyone who might like my book aware of it, and then never have to think about it again.

Here’s a thing I just did.  This comic showed up on Penny Arcade today.  Then, a few hours later, Gabe followed up on the comic with this post, providing a bit more context and detail.  And when I went and looked at the book’s page on Amazon, there are at least a couple of reviews that mention the sex scenes screwing up the tone of the rest of the book.

(Also, she seems to be doing remarkably well for a debut novel for an indie author– “Blue Bedlam Books” doesn’t appear to actually exist.  I’m sure sales have spiked today even though Gabe didn’t like her book, but those 80-some-odd reviews had to come from somewhere.)

(Also also, you’re just gonna have to click on the links.  It’ll only take a minute to catch up, and you only need to look at the first two.  That’s all the context you get; pbbbbt.)

I saw the strip first thing this morning, and it got me thinking.  And this is a thing I just did:

The thing is, I actually do think Gabe would like The Benevolence Archives.  He’s well-known to be a Star Wars fan, he talks about the books a fair amount on the site, and he says right in that post I linked that putting the Millennium Falcon on the cover of your book guarantees a sale.  Well, there’s no space ship on the cover of The Benevolence Archives (dammit!) but I gotta feel like if that sort of thing is appealing than my actual cover is going to get a second look out of you.

And just… blech.  Argh.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that Tweet is gonna get ignored because that’s how Twitter works, and the guy’s got a hundred and fifteen thousand followers so I suspect he gets pretty well inundated in @s and replies and other such nonsense.  But I’m practically hyperventilating over here, like I’m harassing the dude or something.

Ugh.  Haaaaaate promotion.  Hate it.


Tangentially related:  As I’ve spent more and more time fucking around on Twitter lately (and talking to celebrities/more well-known writers than me who have no reason to pay attention to my nonsense) I’ve been downloading lots of sample chapters of books and seeing lots of little Tweet-sized promotions for them.

Holy crap is there a lot of terrible stuff out there.  And the problem is, most of the time, when I come across this stuff, I’m finding it because it’s people who are following me who I’ve followed back, or who follow me back after I follow them, and it just feels mean to rip their shit apart as it so richly deserves.  I may have to start a Tumblr or a second blog or something just to have a place to make fun of terrible indie books, because oh man, some of this stuff.

Then again, somebody’s probably saying that about my book, so… what the hell do I know, right?

(Note:  If I have actually talked to you about your book, I am not talking about you here.  I promise.)

(Second note: want to really fuck with my head?  Buy my book tonight.  I haven’t had a sale in a couple of days and I will go completely nuts wondering if Gabe actually bought the thing or not.)

This one has some bad words in it

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(First things first: if you need context on the picture, go here.  This post is gonna be sorta grab-baggy; it should make sense by the time I get to the end.)

Let’s start by griping about nonsense.  Y’all know the song OPP, right?  If you don’t we can’t be friends anymore.  One of hiphop’s classic anthems; it came out when I was a sophomore in high school and therefore I will have it memorized until I die.  The whole song is about infidelity, but because it doesn’t have any bad words in it and the writing is clever it got played at high school dances all the time.  Combine that with the call-and-response and what you end up with is hundreds of teenagers hollering about penises and pussies in public with none of the adults noticing what’s going on.  It’s wonderful.  It contains this verse:

As for the ladies, OPP means something gifted
The first two letters are the same but the last is something different
It’s the longest, loveliest, lean– I call it the leanest
It’s another five letter word rhymin’ with cleanest and meanest
I won’t get into that, I’ll do it…ah…sorta properly
I say the last P…hmmm…stands for property

It doesn’t stand for property.

I was listening to the radio on the way home from school when I encountered a picture-perfect example of why I bloody fucking hate terrestrial radio:  they played OPP, and they bleeped out cleanest and meanest.

They bleeped two words that rhyme with the actual name of a human body part that half of the human race has, in a song that is entirely about infidelity.

This makes sense on no levels at all, and makes me want to punch the shit out of everyone involved– like, “hit you until my hands break off at the wrists” level of pummeling.  I goddamn hate bleeped songs.  I feel like if you think as a corporate entity that you need to bleep part of a song you shouldn’t be playing it at all.  Ideas are more dangerous than words, you stupid dumbasses.  But this is a new level of stupid– even if I was willing to entertain the suggestion that the word “penis” needed to be sanitized from the airwaves, the suggestion that words that rhyme with penis should also be sanitized is so damn dumb that I’m literally in pain right now while I’m complaining about it.

Stop making me use italics, U93.  I fucking hate you.


New item!  I bring in the mail when I got home, and there was a flyer from our new wingnut Congresscritter in it.  Jackie Walorski is enough of a discredit to humanity that I’m not even terribly interested in describing why; she won her last election largely on the backs of 1) redistricting; 2) the incumbent deciding to run (successfully) for the Senate; and 3) disgusting, pathetic accusations of carpetbagging against her opponent, who grew up here (I went to high school with him) and then moved from the area to go fight in Iraq and start a veteran’s charity in DC.  It was literally true that he hadn’t lived in the area for several years, but his family still lived here and he spent the majority of his time gone on active duty and fighting in a foreign country.  Even if I wasn’t against her politics– and believe me, I am– I’d think she was scum for that.

Which made it interesting to me that most of the flyer– the bit that wasn’t a slanted short questionnaire– was all about trumpeting her bill extending whistleblower protections to sexual assault victims in the military.  Protecting rape victims isn’t generally something that Republicans are big on.  Crowing about having done so isn’t either.  Which leaves me to wonder if a) she’s trying to moderate herself a bit; b) she actually is more moderate than I’d thought; c) she’s just trying to look more moderate; or d) this is an interesting bit of microtargeting– since the flyer in question was addressed to my wife, and there wasn’t one in the mail for me.  Generally when we get these sorts of things (and they come frequently enough) there’s either one of them for each of us or it’s just addressed to the household and not to either of us specifically.  This one just had my wife’s name on it.

Hmmm.


Last but not least:  I just got into an interesting discussion on Facebook about Mike Krahulik’s latest bit of dumbassery.  (Be aware: if you don’t know who Mike Krahulik is, you probably ought not to read this part, as I don’t intend to provide a lot of context.)  The person who started the thread was saying that he was done with Penny Arcade on account of not being able to support Mike’s actions any longer, and while I agree with him that the man has gotten incredibly tiresome in a lot of ways I’m not able to pull the trigger on that just yet.  Which got me wondering about exactly what gets me to cut something I enjoyed out of my life on account of not agreeing with its behavior.  I can think of four examples:  Mel Gibson, Orson Scott Card, Dan Simmons, and Chik-Fil-A.  In each of the four cases, I have previously really enjoyed their work (or their chicken; I hate Chik-Fil-A as a corporation but I will fight you if you denigrate their chicken.  We can hate them for their politics but let’s not get stupid here) and am no longer willing to support them in any way because of their beliefs and/or behaviors.  I kinda want to include Tom Cruise in here, too, but I was never really a fan of his so it’s not quite the same thing.

I guess the difference is hatred.  Mel Gibson hates everybody.  Card and Simmons and Chik-Fil-A are open in their hatred of gay people.  I don’t think Mike Krahulik hates anybody.  I just think he’s a sheltered geek with a short fuse, and spouting his mouth off about shit he knows nothing about frequently gets him in trouble– but I don’t think he hates anybody and I don’t think he’s trying to be an asshole most of the time.  My Facebook friend made a good point that once you’re past a certain age you either need to get better about things or own your own bullshit, and he’s right about that– but at the same time I’ve fucked up in my own personal feminism in who knows how many different ways, so I’m not always inclined to jump down the throat of somebody who seems to be trying to get better about sexuality and gender issues.  I’m just not sure how much more slack I’m willing to cut the guy if he’s not smart enough to figure out that “never talk about this shit extemporaneously, and have someone smarter than me read over my shoulder whenever I talk about it in print” is a sound policy.


Within minutes, a link to this article appears in my inbox.  For those of you too lazy to click, it’s about how Not Intending To Do That appears to be a magical fucking power that not only insulates the Unintender from owning the negative results of their actions but causes others to defend them as well.  It’s… right.  It also includes the word “kyriarchy,” which means something bad, which is sad, because it’s a fun-sounding word and I’d like opportunities to use it in public.

Thinking about this more: the bit of me that wants to defend Mike is related to the bit of me that refuses to give up on certain kids (I can’t honestly say all of them) in my classes who are for one reason or another generally assholes but seem saveable to me.  I think Mike’s saveable.  I might be wrong, and he’s a grown-ass man with a long, long cultural reach and not a fourteen-year-old, but I think that’s another part of the difference here as to why I’m not willing to lock the door on PA just yet.