First of all, I'd like to clear up the popular misconception that the only new Twitter followers I've had in the last month are SEO guys who want to kill me.
There have also been a lot of porn spammers.
THANKS FOR KILLING ME continues to be a reliable mid-level seller at the fine retailers which carry it, with ebook sales oustripping paperback sales by about 10-to-1. This means I've had little impetus to do the extra work necessary to put the book within the reach of brick and mortar booksellers, and I have to admit this feels funny, and not in the "ha-ha" way. But the market advantage of the digital format, particularly at a low price point, is just too crushing. It would only be sentiment, to be honest, that would convince me to go brick and mortar at this point. It isn't an impossible prospect, but it is an unlikely one. The surprising lesson in the marketing saga to date has been how powerfully irrelevant physical bookstores seem to be for my purposes. I don't like this, but I have to admit it.
Meanwhile, work continues on the still-unnamed sequel to TFKM, which picks up in Las Vegas three days after the conclusion of the first book and centers on Joe Harbin (with appearances by some of the lovable scamps who made their debuts in THANKS). I'm at the unenviable stage of what newsweekly writers used to call "breaking rocks" -- that is, doing the hard work of answering questions and laying groundwork. The frustrating part of this is how absolutely essential it is even though it puts zero words on the page. It's the hard work that makes it possible to put words on the page. It's when I'm engaged in this preliminary work that I really miss being in a writers' room, because there's no silence more profound than the one your story problems come wrapped in. Problems and silence -- that's where I'm at today, although in the spirit of full disclosure, when I say "silence" I actually mean "listening to Monkees albums on Mog." Hey, you have your process and I have mine.