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 a lot 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).

Trailers and Books

I thought I’d share some recently created book trailers with you… :)   Please feel free to share the link to this post with anyone you think might be interested… And stay tuned for the announcement of a total make-over of www.esthermitchell.com

This first one is a series trailer for my Underground series, available from Under The Moon (www.underthemoon.org).  This is a Speculative/Science Fiction series that’s received quite a bit of praise, including a Recommended Read from Fallen Angels Reviews, several years ago:

If Science Fiction isn’t your thing, and you prefer a Fantasy world, full of swords and sorcery, quests, warriors, and magic… Have a peek at the following trailers, for my Legends of Tirum series, available from Desert Breeze Publishing (www.desertbreezepublishing.com):

And, as always, you can find out more about any of these books, and more, at www.esthermitchell.com

“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!

 

“A Difficult Proposal” – Excerpt from Underground, Book 2: MIND KILLER

“A Difficult Proposal” — Excerpt from Underground, Book 2: MIND KILLER

Tamia sat on Rick’s bed, staring at the leather box that mocked her from the bedside stand.  She knew he hadn’t left it there deliberately, but its presence stabbed her anew each time she saw it; it practically screamed traitor at her.  Tamia’s gaze dropped to her hands.  She couldn’t look at Rick, for fear of giving in, either to him or to tears.  God, she loved him so much.  So why did she do this to him?  Because she loved him, and she couldn’t live a lie if it meant hurting him.  She’d rather be in pain herself.  But last night, after she convinced him that she was too tired to make love, she realized that the truth hurt him as much as a lie would, because he still didn’t know why she denied what they both wanted.

This verbal dancing around the truth wasn’t the kind of dancing she wanted to do with Rick.  Her heart lurched as she remembered their very first dance together.  They’d danced together since then, but not like that first time.  That night was magical, a slow awareness of each other that she longed to recapture.  Warmth rushed through Tamia as she looked up at Rick with a hesitant smile.

“No one’s ever proposed to me before.”

He bent to kiss her lightly.  “No one?”

She shook her head, and her eyes turned away.  “David didn’t believe that anything, or anyone, was worth that kind of faith.  He was only looking for a body to fuck.  He didn’t care what I thought, or how I felt, or even who I was.”

“Then he was a fool.”  His voice was husky as he kissed her neck, and then drew away to look down into her eyes, his indigo with emotion.  “Don’t ever judge me by him.”

She knew what he was saying, but she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted.  Looking away, she gave him the only answer she could give; she changed the subject.

“You should go.  You’ll be late.”

He studied her with hungry, but wary, eyes, and then glanced at the clock.

“Shit, you’re right.”  He gave her a quick kiss.  “See you later, babe.”

“Yeah.  Later.”  She murmured as she watched the door slide shut behind him.  God, why was she doing this?

 

“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…”