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What I did:
What I didn’t do:
I feel a little weird about this. I’m not terribly good with the whole vacation concept. My annual leave time at work is pretty much maxed out, because I so rarely use it. But we had two days off the day job each week for the past two weeks, and for once, I didn’t want to spend the whole time working. I had to deliberately and consciously say “You know what? Screw it. I’m going to spend this time playing with my kids and relaxing with my wife and sleeping in and having fun.” It’s not something I can do long-term. Those deadlines aren’t going away, and there’s always going to be too much work to do. But it’s been a very good two weeks. I’ve updated the Reporting Sexual Harassment in SF/F page with a link to the Geek Feminism Wiki’s Sample Convention Anti-Harassment Policy. I particularly appreciate the internal guidelines for convention staff. # Months ago, when I was talking about how my e-book sales were about 3-5% of my print sales, a champion of self-publishing said my problem was that my $6.99 e-books were too expensive, and if I dropped the price to $2.99, I’d have better sales.
I posted my first week’s results, and said I’d follow up in a month or so. Well, over the past weekend I came across a post that mentioned the “great success” authors like Jim Hines and others have had putting their own work out through Amazon, which told me it was definitely time for a follow-up. I’ve got about six weeks worth of data now. Are you ready to see what my great success looks like? B&N doesn’t give a nice week-by-week breakdown, but here are my weekly Amazon Kindle sales.
All total, I’ve sold 21 copies through Amazon. Add in the 4 copies sold through Barnes & Noble, and I’ve made about $70, selling an average of about 4 copies a week. For those keeping score at home, this would not even cover the conversion costs for having the files prepped. (You can do this yourself, of course, if you have the time and the know-how. I suspect I could have taught myself the tech side, but time is another issue…) I should note that I’ve done nothing to promote this particular book. I’ve been busy attending cons, working on short stories, revising Snow Queen, and also doing the day job and taking care of the family as my wife recovers from knee surgery. But it’s pretty clear to me that simply putting a book out there isn’t enough. By contrast, I haven’t really been promoting my books with DAW very much these past weeks, either. In those same six weeks, my books with DAW sold around 2000 print copies (averaging about 300/book), which translates to about a thousand dollars in royalties … $850 for me after my agent takes his cut. (I have no access to the weekly e-book sales for the DAW books.) I know there are people making self-pubbed e-books work for them. My friend Sherwood Smith has been successfully selling some books this way. I suspect that if I released one of my fantasy titles, either a reprint or an original goblin/princess book, I’d do a lot better. But Goldfish Dreams is a mainstream title, so doesn’t necessarily tap into my preexisting audience. I also know that an ongoing, persistent sales effort can drive sales. I have friends who keep up a pretty constant sales push to sell their e-books, and it does seem to help them sell more books. But I barely have time to keep up with the blog. I’d rather keep writing new books and the occasional short story, and let my publisher do most of the work to actually get my books into the hands of readers. I’ll keep checking in with further data, but my conclusions so far?
Thoughts and comments are welcome, as always! Thanksgiving in the U.S. bugs me. I love the idea of taking time to recognize and appreciate the things we have, but the holiday has some troubling history and associations. I winced when Jackson came home from Kindergarten wearing a paper bag “Indian vest” and headband. Of course, he’s also convinced the Pilgrims’ feast included Crescent Rolls, because that’s what we had with our meal. We’ll work with him and his sister on their history. This has been a rough month. My wife had her seventh knee surgery on Friday, so I’ve been going non-stop as caretaker and mostly-single parent for about a week now. Work has been rather hellish; I’m sometimes taking more than 100 e-mails and phone calls a day. The writing … well, it’s been a lot harder to make the time I need to get everything done (which is why I’m falling behind yet again on blog comments and e-mail and such). Add in two conventions in three weeks, along with several other signings and appearances, and I’ve been burnt out pretty good. This is where I really appreciate the reminder to step back and recognize the good. It’s too easy to get caught up in the stress and the frustration. I’ve got a wonderful family, even if the kids have been a little overtired and cranky today. I’ve got a steady job, one which lets me support my family (not to mention providing benefits to pay for those seven knee surgeries). As for the writing, it is stressful … but it’s also the best job in the world. I may not be able to make a living at it (not in this country, at any rate), but I’ve been remarkably successful, and I love it. So yes, I’ve got an awful lot to be grateful for, and I am. Despite the stress of the past weeks, life is pretty darn good. And of course, on top of everything else I’ve got going, I have a wonderful online community of friends, Especially fans who do wonderful art like this. Thanks, Richi! And thanks to everyone who’s read and enjoyed the books and stories. Heck, thanks to those who didn’t enjoy them, too — I appreciate you giving them a try. Happy turkey day to those celebrating. And to everyone else, have a happy Thursday! During the sexual harassment discussion, one commenter said certain elements of SF/F fandom simply lack social graces, and you’re going to run into these drooling Asperger types. It’s not their fault. All you can really do is avoid them and try to warn others. I’m not linking to the comment, because several people have already confronted the commenter (including an excellent post by Mrissa here). I’m certain it wasn’t intended to be hurtful. It’s the kind of comment I’ve heard many times, and I know it’s not malicious. But it hurts. I’m having a hard time being my normal, “reasonable” self about this. My son was diagnosed with Asperger’s early this year. He’s high-functioning, but there was no question about the diagnosis. It’s been months, and I’m still adjusting and learning. But I know one thing — my son is Fucking Awesome. Let me show you one example of what Asperger’s looks like:
That’s my son Jackson in his Halloween costume, vanquishing one of our neighbors. (Everyone knows the gorilla is the natural enemy of the Italian plumber, right?) Jackson does struggle socially. I remember picking him up from preschool last year, asking how his day went, and fighting tears when he said, “Nobody wants to play with me.” Most days I’d find him playing by himself in a corner. He has meltdowns when routines get broken without warning. He can also be overly physical and affectionate sometimes, and we’ve had to work with him on that, but he’s learning where the boundaries are. He struggles physically as well. He’s 5 and a half, and still can’t ride a bike. He’s in physical and occupational therapy every week. He runs laps in the house most nights. Lately, he’s started whipping his hands around as a form of self-stimulation. He’s Fucking Awesome. He’s in kindergarten now, and he’s making progress. He’s starting to learn how to get along with other kids. We visited some friends a few weeks ago, and he spent four hours playing with their five-year-old, with only a few minor, typical squabbles. I don’t know how to explain how much that meant to me. The harasser from WFC? That was someone who knows to behave one way in public and another when he has a woman alone. That’s someone with social awareness. Hell, many abusers and harassers have very advanced social skills. I remember the first time I sat in on a batterer’s group, and how terrifyingly charming these guys were. These are not people who simply lack social skills or don’t know how to behave due to autistic spectrum disorders. I’ve heard it before. Cons and fandom are full of Aspies who can’t communicate save through Monty Python jokes. Really? Because Asperger’s Syndrome is an actual diagnosis, with fairly strict criteria that include more than simple social awkwardness. Like sensory issues. (Jackson sometimes asks me to squeeze him, because the physical pressure is comforting.) I had a rough time in school. My social skills sucked. But I didn’t have Asperger’s. I was just a geek. Smart and awkward and doing my best to get through the day without having my books knocked out of my hands. I’m not sure when or why it became “cool” for people in fandom to self-diagnose as Aspies, or to misuse that label as shorthand for the awkward, unwashed masses, but I wish it would stop. It’s hurtful. It reinforces attitudes and false stereotypes that make life harder for those who actually have autistic spectrum disorders. My son has Asperger’s. He’s not some filthy, drooling fool. I don’t believe he’s going to grow up to become a harasser. He’s a brilliant, energetic, loving little kid. He remembers passages from books and movies, and can recite them word for word months later. He loves superheroes and Mario and Transformers, and watching animated LEGO videos on YouTube. He’s excited about coming to his first convention with his Daddy this month. And he’s Fucking Awesome. A lot of good posts about bullying lately. Seanan McGuire talks about her experiences. Michelle Sagara talks about bullying as the parent of a child with Asperger’s. Di Francis describes standing up to the bullies. Bullying and suicide has been in the news a lot lately. One Ohio high school lost four students to suicide in the past few years. October 20 has been designated Spirit Day, to remember seven teenagers who killed themselves after being bullied about their sexuality/gender identity. As I read through various articles, one of the first comments I saw said this was a sign of the times, and kids were tougher when he was a kid. In those days, you either kicked the bully’s ass or you were strong enough to take it. Bullshit. If you think kids didn’t kill themselves over bullying in the old days, you’re a damn fool. I say this as someone who 20+ years ago sat in my parents’ bathroom, having swiped one of my dad’s syringes and filled it with insulin. I remember breaking out in a sweat when the needle broke my skin. I sat there for a long time, hands shaking, struggling with whether to push the plunger home and end it all. Bullying gets more attention these days. We talk about it online, and it pops up in the news more often, but it’s nothing new. For me, it started the first day of sixth grade. I had gotten some “Hines Ketchup” comments in elementary school, but sixth grade is where things turned nasty. I was a perfect target. Small and skinny, with glasses and zero fashion sense. (To this day, I despise the idea of fashion, and would happily live my life in blue jeans and T-shirts.) I was one of the brightest kids in school, but my social skills lagged pretty badly. Topping things off, I had been in speech therapy for years. The bullying was mostly verbal, though I got my share of shoving, of books being knocked from my hands, and all the rest. My next door neighbor ripped my book bag. I was the kid who ended up in his own locker — ha ha, sitcom gold, right? I usually managed to avoid actual fights, but that was it. Teachers, bus drivers, and principals didn’t give a damn, as far as I could see. My parents … I didn’t talk about it much, and I don’t think they knew what to do. They called other parents once or twice, took me shopping for better clothes, but none of it really helped. The common wisdom back then was “Just ignore them,” which was utter crap. I was on the other side a few times, too. In 7th or 8th grade, a friend and I picked on another former friend for most of the year. There was a stint where I teased a kid about her weight. Unforgivable, and I hate myself for doing it … but at the time, if my choice was to be bully or bullied, the former seemed the better choice. For the most part though, it was 4-5 years of feeling alone and despised and hopeless. I survived. Things started to get better around 11th grade. Today I look around at my children and their schools. There’s more awareness, but I’m still scared. My daughter hasn’t had much trouble yet. She’s socially gifted in all the ways I wasn’t, and sometimes I envy her. Well-liked without losing herself, gracefully exploring her identity. My son reminds me of me. He has Asperger’s, and has been in speech therapy. His social skills have improved some this year, but I still worry. I don’t know how to fix things. But I know telling kids to toughen up only makes things worse. It’s victim-blaming. “It’s your fault because you’re weak.” Bullshit. Ignore them and they’ll go away? Never worked for me. Conflict is part of life, but no child should feel sick with dread every morning before school. Nobody should have to hide and watch for the bus, emerging only when it starts coming down the street, because that’s the only way to avoid interacting with the other kids at the bus stop. Nobody should be pushed to the point where death looks like the only way to end the torment. I wish there had been someone like Di at my school, both to stand up for me and to stop me when I was the one picking on others. I wish I had known things would get better. I wish people hadn’t looked the other way, hiding behind “Boys will be boys” and other excuses. It has to end. Seven years ago today, I married an incredible, smart, kind-hearted, patient woman, someone I love, who also happened to be my best friend. The picture below is not from that day. The actual wedding was in May the next year, but we were legally married in October. As it turns out, it takes a little of the stress out of the whole wedding thing if you’ve already been married half a year. However, this is one of my favorite pictures from the whole marriage/wedding thing, and I believe it best captures that sense of becoming a family. Marriage is not what I expected. It’s not what the movies led me to expect. It’s not always easy, and it’s not perfect. (Though we’re getting closer … I got her hooked on Buffy, and I think I’ve successfully gotten her into Doctor Who as well.) But looking back, asking her to marry me was the best decision I’ve ever made. Hectic as these past seven years have sometimes been, I wouldn’t trade ‘em for anything.
Happy anniversary, Amy! I love you! (A pic from the October marriage day is behind the cut. I posted this one partly because it’s a nice picture, and partly because people occasionally ask what I looked like with long hair…) Previous diabetes posts are available by clicking the diabetes tag. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes on October 31, 1998. That’s right, the day I learned my pancreas was a lazy quitter and I’d have to monitor my carb intake for the rest of my life, I got to make my way through a hospital packed full of Halloween candy for the other patients. My father was diagnosed with the same thing when he was 24 and a half, midway through grad school, so I was familiar with the disease. In October of ‘98, I was exactly 24 and a half years old, and was just starting my second year of grad school. (My son is not allowed to go to grad school until he’s 25.) The symptoms had started a few months earlier. I started feeling a lot thirstier, and drinking much more. Milk, water, orange juice … I even tried a few wine coolers. (This brief period is the only time in my life I drank anything with alcohol.) The trouble, though I didn’t know it, was diabetic ketoacidosis. As my pancreas cut down to part time work and prepared for retirement, my blood sugar rose steadily higher, throwing my body’s pH out of whack and causing any number of nasty side effects. My body kept trying to flush the crap out of my system, and to do that, it needed fluids. Of course, the fluids I was drinking had a lot of carbs … which means my blood sugar just kept on climbing. And all that fluid had to go somewhere, meaning I was constantly running to the bathroom, day and night. In addition to the drink-n-pee cycle, my mood went downhill. I was teaching freshman English at Eastern Michigan, and I remember ripping into one of my students I thought was disrespecting me. When my roommate left his dirty dishes in the sink, I did them … swearing and slamming things around hard enough I’m surprised I didn’t break ‘em all. Mom talks about my father going through the same thing. She says she was relieved when he was diagnosed, because if he had continued acting that way, she wasn’t sure how much longer she would have put up with him. I also lost weight. A lot of weight. No matter how much I ate, my pancreas wasn’t producing enough insulin to use that food. I dropped from over 150 pounds down to about 130. (For comparison, I was about 160 pounds in this picture. 130 on me is not healthy.) When I finally figured out something wasn’t right, I headed home. I went out to dinner with my family, then used my father’s glucose meter to check my blood. Normal blood sugar is about 80-120. The meter’s range went up to 600. Mine was too high to read. Dad said he had already figured out I was diabetic from the amount I drank that night, and how often I went to the bathroom.
I’ve kept the disease under pretty good control for 12 years now, in no small part because I remember how miserable I was back then, and I have no desire to go through that again. I’m very comfortable talking about the disease, so questions and comments are more than welcome. (With the understanding that I’m not a doctor, and I can only talk about my personal experiences.) For those who are interested, the American Diabetes Association has a list of diabetes warning signs. — Note: this story doesn’t have a happy ending… Last December, my sister-in-law talked to us about buying a hamster and cage for our nine-year-old daughter Clara. I was a little hesitant, but we said yes. It was the right choice. Come Christmas, we went to my in-laws’ place and swapped gifts. When it was Clara’s turn, we brought her back to the bedroom so she could see the little teddy bear hamster in his new cage. Her reaction was pure, wide-eyed, hands-over-the-mouth joy. She’s always loved animals. She has a fish, and she’s raised frogs and butterflies, but this was different. This was rainbows and unicorns and true love at first sight. She named him Sammy. She took better care of that little guy than I ever did with my pets as a kid. He nipped her a few times in the beginning, but she was very patient, making sure he got to play every day, that he got his treats, and eventually taming him so she could pet him and carry him around. And then he figured out how to open his cage. Continue reading Clara’s Hamster Last month, my daughter Clara came back from a trip up north with several monarch butterfly caterpillars, which she took care of. Each one went into a chrysalis, and all but one turned into butterflies. Today the last butterfly emerged, and I thought I’d share a picture. Why? Because it’s a neat picture from my daughter doing something cool, that’s why
This one emerged after the others, which have already been released. We’ll probably give her a day or so to get used to the wings, then turn her loose. So tomorrow my family heads north for vacation. We’ll be gone for a week … the same week that Red Hood’s Revenge [B&N | Mysterious Galaxy | Amazon] comes out. This is going to be interesting. Since I won’t be around on Tuesday, I went ahead and drew a winner for the 8th and final book giveaway. Congratulations to lavvyan, who wrote the following: Han Solo: Good book? You’ve never heard of Red Hood’s Revenge? Obi-Wan: Should I have? Han Solo: It’s the book that made the Barnes & Noble Top 10 in less than twelve parsecs. It’s outclassed Imperial bestsellers. Not the lauded self-help junk, mind you, I’m talking about the big NY Times hits now. It’s good enough for you, old man. I hope people enjoyed these giveaways. I had a great time reading all of your entries. It’s strange to think I’ll be away, with little Internet access, on my release day. How will I obsess over my Amazon ranking? How will I scour the net for reviews? (Okay, so I’ll probably make my family drive into town on Tuesday so I can get online at least once via the wireless at Subway, but still.) It’s going to be hard. On the other hand, here’s a “self portrait” I took last year when we went up north. So you know what? I think I’ll manage
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Copyright © 2012 Jim C. Hines - All Rights Reserved |
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So in mid-October, I put my mainstream novel Goldfish Dreams 
The nice thing is that after I went to the hospital, I felt better within a day or two. Insulin is amazing stuff. I had no idea just how bad I had been feeling until I was better.
