Join the Fight: Tell Congress That Being an Artist/Author IS a Business!

Like most people, I barely understand most of the legalese involved in tax law.  In fact, until recently, I blindly believed that, as an Author, since I considered myself engaged in business, and everything I read told me I had to file a Schedule C as a sole proprietorship, when I had royalty income, I was engaged in a For-Profit business.  Well, imagine my surprise when the State of Arizona tried to tell me, just before Christmas, last year (Thanks alot Arizona Scrooge!), that because I couldn’t prove a profit (ie, more income than expenses) in three out of five years as an author, I was not, in fact, engaged in a For-Profit Business.

Apparently, being an Artist/Author is one of those areas for which you are supposed to be punished, in the good ol’ US of A (or, at least, in Arizona), thanks to one of a set of “tests” to determine whether or not a business meets the criteria for “For Profit.”  Unfortunately, one of those tests requires a showing of profit — something few authors or artists are familiar with, when it comes to their art.  And, equally apparent is the ridiculous notion that an author or artist should ONLY be engaged in writing/art in order to be classed as pursuing that For-Profit status without proof of said profit margin.  Apparently, we really ARE supposed to starve and end up in the poor-house/bankrupt in order to be taken seriously by the tax laws.

Well, if you’re an author/artist, or family or friends of such, you know how driven a profession this is.  We dedicate every spare moment we can squeeze out of our day for the creation of our creative minds.  And there’s not a one of us who doesn’t intend to someday be able to do nothing but write, paint, etc, etc  full-time.  But we’re also realistic enough to realize that with millions of books printed every day, and hundreds of thousands of artists out there, most of us aren’t likely to ever see our names on or far enough up the bestsellers list or on gallery listing, etc, to make that kind of money.  We hold down other jobs, to pay the bills, and our families suffer as much as we do, for our art.

It’s time to take a stand… So if you’re an artist or author, a friend or family of one, or a fan who wants to see your favorite author/artist/etc continue to create, we need your help.  Follow the link below, sign the petition, and let’s tell the US Congress that being an artist/author IS a business, and we deserve protection and fair regard, as such, under the tax laws.

http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/arts-irc-186-amendment/ (yes, I know the link has a mistake… I hit a “6″ instead of a “3″ when typing in the title, and can’t figure out how to change it).

“Calm Before The Storm”: Excerpt from Underground’s TERMINAL HUNTER

   Forged in the fires of a war that forever changed their world, these ten men and women are highly-skilled operators who have taken the rally cry of “Never Again” as their own.  Theirs is a world where the lines between military and civilian have blurred, and the difference between life and death could be as simple as the next breath.

They are Commandos, and they are the last line of defense between peace and chaos, where love has become the greatest strength, and fear, the most devastating weakness.

                                            UNDERGROUND

                                                         Book 3

                                         TERMINAL HUNTER

Commando Tamia Kuan hasn’t had an easy life, but she’s never made excuses for making the best of what she has. Her life is beginning to come together… Until the loss of a friend drives home the one lesson in life she’s been hiding from — no one is invincible. Now, she’s faced with the very real possibility of losing everything she holds dear. Can a dangerous past be unmade, before it brings any hope of a future crashing down around her?

Excerpt from Underground #3: TERMINAL HUNTER

Tamia leaned her head against the cool, tiled wall of the bathroom and let the murmur of Rick’s voice wash over her. He had a very calming voice, and the light flavor of a Boston-born accent made her feel as if she was wrapped up in a warm blanket. She felt better, just knowing Rick was there.

The baby shifted in her womb, and Tamia smiled. She’d told Rick the truth, she was willing to pay any price for the child growing inside of her. Love swelled in her heart. Someday very soon, she’d hold her baby in her arms. It was a dream she hadn’t believed she’d live to see become reality.

“Good morning, Mikey,” she whispered as she stroked her belly gently. She and Rick settled on Michael as the baby’s name after her last appointment with Faulker. Her hand rose to the silvery hololocket around her neck. She didn’t have to open it to know what would appear if she did. A holographic image of the Archangel Michael, watching over a soldier carrying a child in his arms. The image was a special message from Rick to her – the promise of a protector for the defender.

“Sweetheart?” Rick’s hand squeezed her arm gently, and her eyes opened to the worry in his. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Michael just said good morning.”

His hand moved to her belly, rubbing gently, as he murmured, “Good morning to you, too.”

Their eyes met, and Tamia smiled softly, blinking away tears. Then she noticed how he was dressed, and uneasiness shot through her. Rick hardly ever wore his uniform, unless… “What’s going on?”

“The Tribunal wants me to testify, at ten. I hate to run off on you, but—”

“Go,” she urged. She knew how important this was, and if the tables were reversed, she’d expect the same understanding. Their jobs didn’t end because they were married. The same responsibilities, and the same dangers, remained.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

As she heard the door lock’s tone sound a few moments later, Tamia’s stomach clenched in fear, and she aimed for the toilet again as bile rose in her throat. She was frightened of what could happen if the Tribunal quashed the charges, and she was terrified that, by testifying, Rick was putting himself squarely in the cross-hairs of an assassin’s gun.

Like what you read here?  Pick up your copy of TERMINAL HUNTER today, at www.underthemoon.org/terminalhunter.html or check out other Underground books at www.esthermitchell.com

Be sure to join me on Facebook, to participate in a contest that could net you a free book!  Join my fan page at https://www.facebook.com/authoresthermitchell and find out more!

 

“Aftershocks” — Excerpt from Underground 3: TERMINAL HUNTER

The third book of Underground, TERMINAL HUNTER, will be available for sale in just five days.  In honor of that, I’d like to present a little sneak peek inside… Enjoy!  And don’t forget to pick up your copy, January 31, at www.underthemoon.org

“Aftershocks”  — Excerpted from Underground 3: TERMINAL HUNTER

If he thought dealing with Carrissa was heart-wrenching and difficult, Rick knew his next stop had the potential to rip his heart straight out of his chest. He fidgeted nervously as the hydrolift moved up. As it came to a stop on the Trauma floor of Mount    Sinai Hospital, Rick ran his hand through his hair and blew out an anxious breath. God, he wasn’t sure he could do this. He didn’t know if he could face her, or what he could say to her…

The cop standing guard at the door snapped alert as he neared. “Name and business.”

“Commander Richard Carinson. I’m a friend.”

The guard consulted the computer pad in his hands, and nodded. “Go on in. Fifteen minutes.”

Rick swallowed and opened the door, his stomach knotted with tension. The room’s occupant was sitting by the window, her eyes fixed on the sun setting over the city. She didn’t even seem aware he was there.

“Jean?”

She jumped, as if startled by even that quietly spoken query. As she turned, he caught the flash of fear in her haunted eyes. Then, as she realized who he was, she relaxed visibly. It was one more reminder of what she’d been through; bold, brave Jean would never be the same again.

“Hello, Rick.” Her voice was toneless as she turned back toward the window. “Can’t say I expected to see you here.”

Pain rose, but he tamped it under control. “What the hell’s this?”

Her head lowered. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

She jerked out a shrug. “I have good days, and bad ones. The doctors say I’m getting better. But I still feel like a train wreck, on the inside.”

He moved to crouch beside her chair, looking at her somberly. “I don’t have any answers for you, Jean. I wish to God that we’d got there sooner. I wish you’d told me what was going down; I still wish you would. I wish I could go and strangle Horner and Tolson to death, for letting it happen.”

“If wishes were pennies…”

A Flight of Fantasy (or “Why on Earth Did You Write That?”)

I was recently asked what inspired me to write a series set completely in a Fantasy world, when so much of what I do usually takes place in the “real” world (whether present or future).  I figured you all might be interested in my answer to this question, too.  So, let me tell you a story (*grins* Can’t help it… I’m an author!)…

 

Legends of Tirum, you may be surprised to learn, isn’t my first foray into the world of Fantasy.  Most of the time, however, I deal in parallel dimensions to our own Earth, when doing my Fantasy work.  I’m not entirely sure why, myself.  Maybe it’s because I’m truly fascinated by the concept of “What If…”.  I love exploring the possibilities of where our own world could be, or could have been at some point in the past, if things had gone differently (whether minor alterations, or complete world-changers).  I guess that makes most of my Fantasy actually more of a form of Speculative Fiction.

 

Legends of Tirum is a completely different animal.  I actually created not just another world, but another whole solar system, unique constellations, and a completely independent growth, world-wise.  My reason for doing this was to create something so far outside of my “norm” as to be truly unique among my work.  I strive for that, in every series.  Some unique facet, whether a small spark of difference among the contemporarily-set paranormals (for example, there are many such differences between the military-oriented Project Prometheus, which deals solely in parapsychological phenomena, and the mystery/suspense heavy Guardians, Inc., in which paranormal creatures – known as Paras – are a real and involved part of our society), or major leaps of difference, such as seen between the technologically-stagnant Underground and the hyper-technological Section Psi.

 

Legends of Tirum takes it to an all-new level for me, stripping away the technology (or most of it… but I won’t spoil the surprise! …) and replacing it with a nod to the classic Sword-and-Sorcery storyline – with a twist.  After all, it’s not often when the main character is BOTH the sword-toting warrior AND the “sorceress” with an entire arsenal of deadly magical spells at her disposal.  I gave all of my characters unique qualities that set them apart from both each other and from every other character I’ve ever written about.

 

So, if you’re looking for something Fantasy, with a twist or two of Romance thrown in for good measure (and because, without it, my main character would probably be an irritating hard-ass…lol), you can find out more about this series on my website, at http://www.esthermitchell.com/LegendsofTirum.html

Legends of Tirum, Book 3: Spirit Mage

 

“Uncharted Territory” — Legends of Tirum, Book 3: SPIRIT MAGE

When Phoenix Telyn Gwndal returned to Raiador, she intended to bury her heart there, and never love again.  But when the  Elementals guarding the sacred World Forge set her a task that took her beyond the reaches of a mystical forest, Telyn was about to come face-to-face with a secret that would turn everything she believes about life, and death, upside down.

“Uncharted Territory” — Excerpt from SPIRIT MAGE:

The Eleshau was alive. That was what all the stories about this benighted wood said, and after everything she’d seen during her time in the Borderlands, she wasn’t inclined to disagree. Phoenix Telyn Gwndal eyed the trees around her warily as she rode along the undergrowth-covered ancient paths. Not many people ever travelled these trails. Few who did ever returned.

She glanced to her right, certain the trees were whispering, and not in the whimsical, imaginative way. She was far too aware the shadows here harbored monsters capable of killing the body, or stealing the soul.

“I must be mad.”

She had no idea why she was here, but she wasn’t inclined to linger without good reason. Somewhere out there in the trees was  Nacaris’ final resting place. Though she’d searched, she never found his body.  She mourned him the whole way to Raiador, battered and weary to the soul. She’d expected to hide herself away within the World Forge and lick her wounds – both physical and emotional — until she could face the world again.

But the Salamandars had other ideas. No sooner had she arrived, Phoenix Book in tow, than they put her to work memorizing the entire Book. And then, to her shock and horror, they sent her back out here, to the Eleshau. Sala claimed the next step in her journey as one of the Chosen lay beyond this forest.

Telyn swallowed hard. She wasn’t even sure there was anything beyond the Eleshau. Legend told of a land beyond here — a mystical land peopled by beings from the stars, and Majikal creatures few had ever seen. Other stories declared the continent dropped off sharply into the roiling riptides of the ocean, just past the forest. That, storytellers said, was why no one who entered the forest ever returned.

The Last Straw: Aspen Mountain Press with No Remorse

Before I begin, let me apologize for the length of this post, and some of the tone… I’m very frustrated, annoyed, whatever synonym you choose to use, and I’m addressing specific comments made recently in regards to requests made by a fellow AMP author for information.

“(Author- name excluded for privacy reasons) Do you intend returning answering queries, letters etc? What
is the time span involved so we know when to expect an answer from you?

(Publisher) In all fairness, I can’t tell you what sort of time frame to expect an answer in, except to say that I am working on them. It takes time to respond to THREATS such as the one Wells made and take care of other business matters AND
attend to my health needs and the work that must be done in raising my son alone.”

I’m sorry, but this is unacceptable.  Aspen Mountain Press’ contract specifically states a time limit on how long a breaching party
has to cure (correct) the breach, when informed.  Aspen Mountain Press’ publisher has had well over that allotted time to cure the breaches in contracts that she’s instigated.  Furthermore, the contract specifically states, in the case of expiring/expired contracts, that it requires a request by certified mail of either the Publisher or the Author, and signed and agreed to by the other party within a very specific window of time around the expiration, in order for the contract to continue.

Those are VERY specific time limits on communication, and what they require.  Since my contracts began expiring in June of
2010, I have received NO certified mail from Aspen Mountain Press (referred to herein as AMP), let alone any kind of offer to extend my contracts.  And, as I never sent AMP a request to extend my contracts, either, that specific time period has WELL elapsed. The beginning of August, this year, I informed the owner of AMP of what I believed at the time to be a grievous oversight, and what is, legally, a Copyright violation, and requested she remove my books from sale, as I no longer wished them to be
published by Aspen Mountain Press.  She ignored my certified letter (it came back unclaimed), and also the corresponding e-mails.  It is now mid-October.  In a little over 3 weeks, the period to cure (correct) the breaches she has committed against me will
ALSO have elapsed.

No, I am sorry, Madam Publisher, but you DO have an obligation to respond in a timely manner.  You are running a business, and
your personal issues have no place in your business dealings.  You have an obligation to hold up your end of the contracts you entered into with your authors, and to correct the errors (and yes, you HAVE made some rather large ones) you’ve made in regards to your business.

As to the threats you claim to have received: helpful warnings of legal action in regards to your lack of willingness to properly run your business are NOT threats.  Charles Wells was spot-on when he warned you that failure to redress the issues you’ve created will end in a sticky legal situation for you.  I’m not threatening — I’m stating fact, as I’ve already personally begun to set the wheels in motion regarding this, since you are violating my legally protected Copyrights, at this moment, by continuing to sell IN HER NAME and HOPE OF HEAVEN without a valid contract.  In less than a month, you will also be in violation of my Copyright for SHADOW WALKER, but I see no further point in waiting to address this issue. I’ve allowed you to get away with this illegal activity far too long, already.

“(Author) Can you please explain why you intend holding on to authors that have lost faith in AMP?

(Publisher) Losing faith in a company does not void a contract. Any business matters are between the author and AMP. If the author wishes to make those matters public, they will. I won’t violate their privacy in that way. It is their own decision.”

Actually, it can.  Many independent contractors will revoke contracts with companies that prove themselves to be performing
illegal actions or engaged in illegal operations, in order to keep their own businesses from being linked to any negative press.  Also, if you look at the stock market and customer contracts dropped after the recent Netflix fiascos, you’ll see quite plainly that losing faith in a company is the PRIMARY reason a contractor, customer, or other business ceases to do business with a particular
company.  AMP’s contract specifically states that if a breaching party fails, within a set amount of time, to cure
the breach, the contract automatically terminates.  Pretty clear to me.  The Publisher has been informed, in writing,
as proscribed by the contract, of a list of breaches to said contract (in my case, two books are being sold WITHOUT a contract) by numerous authors.  As her time period for these notifications expire, one after another, with no redress in sight, these contracts actually void themselves, leaving Aspen Mountain Press in the unenviable position of selling a slew of books that violate Copyright law.

” (Author)Do you intend paying royalies AND supplying sales statements in toto as per the contract? When can those owed money expect to be paid?

(Publisher) Yes, I will be paying royalties and statements, but as of the moment they are on the back burner as I deal with all the other threats to the company, and the requests to relinquish contracts.”

Again, entirely unacceptable.  I, too, run a sole-proprietorship business.  If I fail to pay my vendors, they would send me to collections.  AMP’s contract states a specific window of time in which royalties MUST be paid.  Failure to do so is a breach of contract.  One cannot just put paying one’s vendors (which an author is, in the case that they have entered into an agreement to
provide a book for the publisher to sell, in return for a percentage of the profits of said sale) “on the back burner.”  This is poor business practice, at very least, and skates the line of criminal fraud.

Personally, I don’t really care about my royalties.  If I did, I would be pursuing all of the money owed me for the sales of
my out-of-contract works over the last year (since the contracts expired, it is my understanding that ALL monies collected on these works belong to me, as the Publisher has no viable contract to sell or collect money on them.  If there’s an attorney out there with
evidence otherwise, please… I’m interested to hear your thoughts).  But I’m not worried about the money.  What I want are my out-of-contract works removed from sale, ASAP, and the one book that’s nearly reached expiration released from the small remainder of its contract and also removed from sale.  I want the Publisher to apologize, in writing, to me, for having sold my books without a valid contract for a year.  I want her to admit her culpability in this matter, because her constant denial that she’s done
anything wrong is not healthy for her, and is insulting to me and all the other authors she’s harmed.

“(Publisher)Having been an author, I know the return of my intellectual property is more important than anything else.”

You’ll all have to pardon my profanity, here, because this comment literally makes steam come out of my ears.  This statement is a
crock of shit.  If Intellectual Property rights meant ANYTHING to AMP’s owner, she would have seen to it that expired
contracts were taken care of ASAP.  At very least, as soon as she was informed of the violation, she would have immediately responded by following directions and removing the books in question from sale.

Since the beginning of October, AMP’s site has been down (until just the other day) for some supposed technical issues (I’m not a techie… I’m not going to dispute that one, though I admit to some personal skepticism).  How difficult would it have been, now that she’s been informed in both postal, e-mail, AND through the Publisher’s forum, of the continued violation of Copyright law, for her to remove those books being illegally sold BEFORE bringing the site back online?  My gut says not hard at all.  However, the site is back up, and… yep, you guessed it.  My two expired books are STILL for sale on the site.

“(Publisher) That said, I would seriously consider how much attorney fees cost and weigh them against what I believe I’m owed.”

I’m owed my legal rights to my books, to take them wherever I please.  This Publisher, as an author, knows how actively I was  involved in pursuing authors’ rights (including my own) back when Triskelion Publishing folded.  We were fighting the bankruptcy court, then, and I refused to back down.  Even if everyone else had backed out, I would have continued to fight, because my rights  are THE most important thing to me.  I don’t care HOW much it costs me to pursue this.  I am owed the decency of being treated with professional courtesy, honesty, and dignity.  I am owed the decency of being listened to when I address a legal issue that should have been resolved a year ago.  I am owed so much more than money.  In my mind, this statement outlines nothing
more than the Publisher’s greed.  I do NOT respond well to being threatened like this, when I know that I am legally
in the right.  All it does is make me dig my heels in further, and fight harder, for what I know to be right.

The United States of America told me that I own these works I created with my own hands, when I registered
my Copyrights.  I entered into an agreement to allow Aspen Mountain Press the right to publish and promote them,
for a period of time.  That time has elapsed.  According to the laws of the United States of America, that makes ME the SOLE owner of those rights, again.  And that makes any attempt to sell,  distribute, or otherwise promote them without my express, written permission, illegal.

That’s my stand, and I’ll take it in the witness box, if I have to.  I don’t care what it costs me, so quit trying to intimidate me — I learned as a child that a bully can only hurt me if I LET them.  And I’m not about to let this happen.

See you in court.

PS — All reprinted comments here come from a loop recently deemed “not for meetings” by the Publisher ( sic “I’d
like to tell the members here that this is not a business MEETING loop. I’ve posted a few announcements in the past, and participated in some general chat, but I don’t use this for meeting purposes.”), and therefore, by extension, taken by me to imply that the loop in question is merely for chatter, and therefore basically public (it’s hosted by Yahoo, with no specific privacy expectations  attached).

Dropping the Legal Ball: A Publishing Nightmare Exposed

Midnight has passed.  Silence reigns. But I can be silent no more.  I (along with a passel of other authors) have been asked to keep something to myself that is completely illegal, violating the Copyright Laws of the United States of America — this is something I cannot do.  It is time the silence is broken.

The party performing these illegal acts has a tenuous, at best, right to request me to not say anything — I still have ONE valid contract (for another month).  However, she cannot stop Freedom of Speech, and should she try to sue me over the information I am about to divulge, she’ll find herself in MUCH worse straits than I, as she has been violating Intellectual Property laws for at least a year, now.

Of whom do I speak, you ask?

I’m talking about Aspen Mountain Press, and its publisher.

I’ve been waiting patiently for this publisher to make right things that should have been made right a year ago.  I’ve sent letters  that have been returned, unopened, marked “unclaimed” though they were sent exactly as specified in contracts that have been expired for a year or more.  I’ve sent e-mails, which have garnered no response.

And then, on Thursday, as if to rub salt in an already bleeding wound, this publisher posted a letter to the entire author body of her publishing house, basically looking for everyone who is upset to back off and not question her, anymore.  But the time for her to make requests, and the time for talking about where we plan to go from here, is over.  It was over a year ago, but I gave the benefit of the doubt, extended my waiting time, made excuses in my own mind for why these issues were not resolved,
yet.

The time for negotiation ended nearly a month ago, when my letter asserting what needed to be done was summarily ignored, and sent back to me, unopened and unclaimed.

The time for a still-amicable resolution expired at midnight last night, when the deadline for my final demand for resolution went ignored.

At the time, I promised that if it wasn’t resolved, the kid gloves would come off.  This was no idle threat.  I plan to make good on it, starting now.

Part of that letter sent to all of us authors stated that she wanted any issues kept “within the family.”  I wish I could respect that, but respect is something I believe is earned, not to be expected for nothing.  I’ve given a lot of respect over the past year, by waiting instead of hounding my publisher over contracts that expired and were never renewed, while the books remained up for sale.  I respected her by not demanding every penny those books made in the time since, as she had no legal right to be selling them.  And what did I get for the respect I was given?  Ignored, cheated, and finally told that I’m supposed to stay mute about it.

There’s no reason for me to stay mute.  There’s also no way I intend to respect the wishes of someone who’s done nothing but disrespect myself and a host of other authors, for months to years.  I’m trying to be fair-minded, to take into consideration as much as I can.  Part of me stuggled against naming names even as I wrote this post, or doing anything that might be permanently damaging to a business or person in need of so much guidance and help.  I’m not a vindictive person, and I cringe from the thought of causing anyone pain.

But the truth of the matter is, the pain has already been caused by this publisher, and it’s been caused to myself and others, in a variety of ways.  I can’t speak for the other authors (that’s for them to do, when they feel the time is right for them), but I can speak for myself.  And, in the words of Paul Harvey, it’s time for “the rest of the story.”

Several years ago, I belonged to another publishing house (the now infamous Triskelion Publishing).  When that company went bankrupt, the world exploded for me.  It was the first time I ever faced the horrible truth of the publishing industry – as an author, the deck is stacked AGAINST you.  But the authors banded together, and went to the wall to get our rights back.  And, in the end, we succeeded.  Whether it proves true or not, I like to believe we set a precedent regarding bankruptcy in the publishing industry, that day.

Shortly after, I was approached by the owner of Aspen Mountain Press, wanting to publish something of mine. I was initially leery, but was promised that it would NOT be like  Triskelion.  Eventually, we struck a deal, and I started sending my Project Prometheus series.  The first contract was signed in 2007.  The second was signed the very end of 2007, and the third was signed in November of 2008. Each of these contracts had a 3 year expiration, and could ONLY be renewed by WRITTEN AGREEMENT between the publisher and myself at the time of expiration.

For the first couple of years, everything seemed fine.  I liked the publisher, and while sales were never great, I wasn’t expecting them to be huge, either (I’m a bit of a niche author… I know my work’s not to everyone’s tastes), and I was happy with whatever I got.

Then, in 2010, the first of my contracts expired.  I waited for the e-mail or letter to arrive, stating the publisher’s request to renew my contract.  At the time, I would have happily signed a renewal.  I saw no reason not to.

But no renewal request ever came.

2011 rolled around, and still I was waiting for a renewal request on the first contract.  Not a peep.  Now the SECOND contract was  expired.  No request came for that, either.  I sent an e-mail query regarding both.  No response.  I told myself that it was an e-mail glitch, that the e-mail was just never received.  And I waited.  Meanwhile, books were selling, and I was only getting my contracted royalty amounts when, as the contracts were expired, I SHOULD have been receiving the entire cover price.  But it didn’t really bother me.  I kept watching for the renewals, but I didn’t want to make a pain of myself, so I didn’t send any more e-mails or letters regarding it.

Not until this past summer.  Then, when I decided I needed to get the books taken down and acknowledgement of contractual expiration sent to me, I did exactly as my contract stated, and sent a certified letter requesting not only a letter of confirmation and the removal of the first two books, but also a reversal of the rights on the third book, which is set to expired in November (a little over a month away). At the same time, I sent an e-mail containing the same request.  No response.  Eventually, the letter came back to me, unopened and marked “unclaimed” by the Post Office.

And then the publisher stopped communicating with anyone who e-mailed her or sent her mail. For nearly TWO MONTHS!  She didn’t respond to the stirrings of first concern, and then panic, among her authors.  We were essentially left in limbo.

Like I said, I can’t speak for any of the other authors, but here’s what this whole ordeal has done to me:

The stress of it all put me into a medical tailspin.  I suffer from Acute Intermittent Porphyria, and stress is a major trigger of  attacks.  I’ve been in varying stages of attack (from barely-bearable pain to pain so bad I missed enough work that I’m now losing over $100 on my next paycheck, meaning I don’t know if I’ll make bills the beginning of the month, or not) for weeks now.

I’ve been frustrated enough that my ability to write (and  thus meet my contractual obligations with OTHER publisher) has been  hit-and-miss.

And yet, I’ve seen not one word of apology, not one attempt to make right the things that have broken the relationship between us.

Would I be willing to mend fences?  In most ways, yes.

Would I be willing to let bygones be bygones?  I don’t hold a grudge – but I’m not going to leave my books with someone I can’t trust to not do this again.  Holding onto anger isn’t something I want in my life, and I’m more than willing to let that go and wish Aspen Mountain Press and its publisher well.  However, I’m not an idiot, and once my trust is broken, it literally takes moving mountains to get it back.  My staying, once the trust is broken, is an issue not up for debate – it’s just not going to happen.

What will it take for me to mend fences?  An apology, for starters.  Not just some mealy-mouth bunch of words, either.  I’m talking about a genuine, heart-felt apology, in which the publisher finally takes her full share of responsibility for the events that have transpired, and their effects on me.  And the removal of my books for sale, as well as a letter acknowledging that ALL THREE belong to me, again.  Nothing less will do, and nothing more need be done.  I’m not asking for the world – I’m asking
that the right thing be done.

Until the publisher is willing to face up to her own mistakes, and make amends to the people she’s wronged in recent (and not so  recent) past, I won’t be recommending this publisher to anyone.  In my eyes, at the moment, it’s a case of “Buyer Beware.”  If you’re planning to purchase any of my books, DO NOT PURCHASE THEM FROM ASPEN MOUNTAIN PRESS.  Two of the three books there are being sold illegally, in violation of Copyright Law.

Weekend Gems: “Gilded Cage”

“No one said this would be easy.” Maltai circled her cage, watched her stalking movements match his stride warily as she pulled against the golden chain and collar that encircled her neck.  “You’re not going to get out of there, no matter what I do, unless you’re ready to quit being so damned noble.”

She loosed a warning growl that rumbled in the air between them as he stepped closer, her bright yellow eyes narrowing as she bared her teeth.  Then, backing off, she shook herself, shedding her feline form in the process.  In the space of a breath, she went from imposing lioness to a lean, proud woman with tawny skin and dark hair, wearing only the short, tattered drape of cloth that denoted her servitude, and the proud, regal tilt of her chin that told him she was far from a broken slave.

“If I compromise my very core, and everything I hold dear, then I might as well stay here and become a slave in truth.  What reason do I have to be free, if I sacrifice my soul self in the process?”

Want to know more?  Stay tuned for details about Legends of Tirum and this book, Mistress of Cats!  Meanwhile, check out Books 1 & 2 at Desert Breeze Publishing

DAUGHTER OF ASHES Release – Today!

Legends of Tirum: Daughter of Ashes

Time to break out the party hats and celebrate!  Today’s the launch day for a brand new series for me!

Legends of  Tirum is a Fantasy series with Romantic elements that’s been a long time in development, and I couldn’t be more happy or proud to say it’s finally here!

Today’s release of DAUGHTER OF ASHES, the first book in the series, is the culmination of years of work!

So, in honor of today’s release, I’m posting a special excerpt.  Have a peek… tell me what you think… And if you like what you read, pick up your very own copy at Desert Breeze Publishing today!

Excerpt from Legends of Tirum: DAUGHTER OF ASHES –

The streets of the Brassanburg Market were already thrumming with morning business by the time Telyn and Nacaris entered the gates of the city. Telyn smirked at the hawkers — street corner peddlers who screamed their trinkets and wares like birds of prey — who badgered passers-by in the hopes of turning a head by sheer volume. She wondered if they knew how many potential customers they drove off that way. The proprietors of the storefronts and billowing pavilions certainly knew, if the disdainful, irritated looks they cast their street-corner compatriots was any indication.

“Is it always this loud?” Nacaris’ voice carried over the boisterous peddlers, and she turned to grin at him.

“This is the great part of the market.” She always enjoyed watching the subtle battle of wills that thrummed between peddlers and merchants. Trade towns were famous for both hawkers and shopkeepers, and little as they cared for each other, neither would have celebrated the demise of the other. As long as the barter war remained in full force, the powers of trade remained balanced.

Telyn drew her mount closer to Nacaris’, to be heard above the din, as she jerked her chin toward an inn at the end of the street. “There’s where we want.”

He eyed the non-descript building warily. “Are you certain?”

Her grin flashed, wide and wicked. She knew what he thought, but was too diplomatic to say. It looked like a swill house. But she knew that appearance could be deceiving, and this little inn was testament enough to that. “Trust me.”

He cast her a long look, then surprised her by nodding. She’d expected more of a battle.

Telyn turned Bloodcloud toward a stable a few doors up from the inn. She knew the stablemaster, and trusted him to take good care of her horse. She grinned at the man in question as he stepped from the livery doors at the sound of horses outside.

“Ho, Carmyd!”

He blinked into the sunlight, and a wide grin split his scarred face as he swiped a hand over his bald pate. “Well, bless my silver shoes, if it ain’t a grand sight for old eyes.”

With a laugh, she leapt from her horse and into his waiting embrace, breathing in the familiar, comforting scents of leather and horse. Unwelcome tears swelled in her eyes as memory washed over her. Carmyd was an old Gildgard — one of the few that actually managed to survive to a respectable old age and retire gracefully. He’d come to her mother, bleeding and near death from horrific wounds on his face, when Telyn was a mere babe, and his long recovery had made him a semi-permanent fixture in her young life. From Carmyd, she heard the old legends, and learned to ride her first horse. Under his tutelage — and despite her mother’s disapproval — she’d learned to handle blade and bow, though others were responsible for honing her skill.

“Here, now, girl,” he muttered, holding her away to look into her face. “What brings the tears?”

She blinked them away and shook her head, smiling. “It does me good to see your face again.”

He glanced beyond her, and his shaggy brows lifted curiously. “Who’s the stallion?”

Telyn laughed, but couldn’t contain the flush that crept up her neck. “A friend.”

“I see.” He frowned, and then, as if reaching some inner conclusion, shrugged. “What brings you to my fair city?”

She sighed. “Business, I fear.”

His gaze flickered to Nacaris again. “His or yours?”

“Both. I came to see Seoman.”

That gained her a piercing look from her old friend. “What kind of business?”

She batted him away and turned toward Bloodcloud as Nacaris swung down from his own mount. “Don’t pry, Carmyd.”

“I see.” Those two words carried a wealth of meaning, and Telyn sighed. She wasn’t about to explain herself to anyone — especially not Carmyd.

“We need lodging for the horses for the night, at least.”

He nodded, and gestured toward the stable. “You know the way. But, Telyn, a word of caution…”

She turned expectantly. There was something about his tone…

“Aye?”

“The boy you knew is long gone. Have a caution with the man he’s become.”

As she walked Bloodcloud into the stable, those words travelled with Telyn, and concern knitted her brows. What, exactly, did Carmyd mean?

Flash Friday: “Become Death”

This week, for Flash Friday, I’m trying something all-new.  I’ve never written in First Person, before, but I’ve always wanted to try it.  And now, I have a Steampunk PI series that just seems to lend itself to First Person.  So, since Saturday’s my birthday, I thought I’d share a litle gift with you, and give you a peek at a never-before-seen scene from a never-before-seen series I’m working on… Be sure to leave a comment and let me know what you think!

“Become Death” – excerpted from ANGEL OF MERCY

copyright 2010 by Esther Mitchell

            The cards are warm and smooth in my hands, the subtle tingle of energy coming off of them feels like a familiar friend, and a little like touching a live low-voltage wire.  Usually, I’m not even aware of them in my hands, I’m so used to the feel.   But this meeting’s boring, so far, so I’m focusing on the motion.  Shift one card up, then over, then back into the deck, while maintaining this pointless staring contest with Mutt and Jeff.  It’s a trick I learned when I was just a kid, playing card games with Father Archibald.  I miss him.  He’s gone now, but I like to think he’d laugh to know at least one thing he taught me actually stuck.

           A sigh pushes through my chest, and I look between the two men seated in my good leather chairs.  Mutt and Jeff.  I call them that because one’s tall, thin, and looks like he’s been sucking on sour lemons all morning. The other is short, fat, and sweating all over my leather chair like a race horse after a turn at Seven Downs.

            Mutt looks nervous, his eyes darting right and left, and his thick lips making a disgusting smacking sound.  Jeff just looks bored and disapproving of everything.  Wonder if he’s ever gotten laid.  Doubt it.  I’d be sour, too, if I never got any.

            “Gentlemen, how about we cut to the chase?”  The cards make a hiss, then a clack, as I drop the stack onto the desk between us.  “You’re obviously not looking for a lost puppy, or a missing relative.  Why are you here?”

            Mutt shakes his head, and  the leather squeaks as he shifts in his seat.  Great.  Looks like I’ll be paying to have the leather professionally cleaned.

            “We’re from the Holy Council.”

            Jeff clears his throat, and his frown deepens – I wasn’t aware the human face could sink that far into itself until now.  It’s pretty clear Jeff would rather stick a electro-stick in his eye than give up anonymity.  Too bad.  If he wants anonymity, he should have hired Gabriel.

            He heaves this prissy little sigh that says he knows the cat’s out of the bag, and it looks more like someone let the air out of his face.  “Gideon sent us.”

            As if Gideon’s name alone means I’ll hire on.  If it wasn’t in total poor taste for a P.I. to laugh in the face of a potential client, I’d give in to the urge.  For now, I just raise one eyebrow and listen.  They’ll have to do better than name-dropping to interest me.

            “And I repeat myself:  What do you want?”

            Squeak.  Squeak.  Mutt shifts around in his seat.  Spirits of Sarant, he must go through a dozen of those wool suits a day!

            “We want you to k—“

            “We would like you to terminate a threat,” Jeff breaks in, and now he looks nervous, too.

            I can’t hold the laugh in, anymore.  I already knew this wouldn’t be a simple request.  I pretty much figured they were looking for a hitman, not a P.I.

            “I think you boys have the wrong Mercurio.  You should try Gabriel.”

            Jeff’s face is back to looking like he’s sucking lemons, and he’s huffing those prissy little sighs, again.  Followed by a disdainful sniff.  Interesting.

            “Gabriel is too… unstable.”

            Gabriel is a psychopathic killer with a bloodlust I’ll never understand.  Sounds like a perfect match, to me.  “He works cheap.  I don’t.”

            Mutt squeaks in his seat again.  “Money isn’t an issue.”

            “Really?  When did the Holy Council start padding its coffers with blood money?”

            And that’s got them eyeing each other warily.  Round one to me.  But I have a bad feeling the next round won’t be anywhere near as much fun.