So, I thought I’d chart my progress as I stumble along this new path. March is going to be an incredibly stressful–*listens*–I’m being told it’s May. Holy rolling shitballs, it’s already May 4? Fuckity fuck-spigots.

Right. Progress. I’ve made none. Well, that’s not entirely true. I took a few dozen showers, in which I just kinda stood there sudsed-up and wept. The good news is, this soap smells like hoity-toity froo-froo. My eyes might be puffy and red, but man I smell fancy. That’s progress, right?

Let me sum up, in case I’ve lost you. My publisher, Booktrope, is closing its doors May 31st and a large hunk of my catalogue will vanish from my shelf. Excuse me for a second… *panic-vomits* Where were we? Oh, yes. I’ve got eighty bajillionteen things to do in order to get my shit together so that when the rights revert to me, I can get back in business. So far, I’ve collected those things in a handy dandy To Do List, cried, stared at the list a bit more, then I ate all the things and curled up in a ball and rocked myself to sleep. When I woke up, it took a half hour for me to remember this was going on, at which point I seriously considered having vodka for breakfast, or running away to Alberta. Then I heard that Alberta was on fire, so I guess that just leaves the vodka plan. I’m calling that Plan V, which could also be Plan Vagina, except I ran out of batteries.

Serious step one, though, is taking care of my team members. Plan M for Moneybucks. See, according to our creative team agreement, if the publisher ducks out of the whole dealio, *someone* has to compensate the team, and since the author is the one who ends up with a product they can sell, that *someone* is me. I don’t have a problem with that, but it’s come as quite a shock to many broke-ass writers who got into this hybrid publishing plan specifically for the team royalty structure. Some writers haven’t even made any royalties themselves but are now looking at thousands of dollars in payouts. So, yeah, step one is making sure I cash out my team. They did wonderful work, I’m very grateful to them, and though my bank will be emptied, the edited and proofread books and covers will be mine, and my slate will be clean.

That’s what I’ve focused on this week; my team members have been contacted, I’ve tried to be as fair and generous as I can, and so have the other team members. I’m relieved to say I’ve handled all that, and all that’s left is to cut some checks. Plan M will be off the list.

Next up: prepping the files I do have, and making sure all my legal Ts are crossed and Is are dotted. Notice, nowhere in my To Do list is there mention of writing new things. That has been put on hold until next week.  I’m hoping the stress of all this hasn’t conked the muse on the noggin, because I need him all next week when I’m away. This is our chance to get some solid word counts. I won’t get much done if I’m still hurling up the knots in my belly.

What I need now is some quiet, some space, and a little luck. And some more of this smelly rich-people soap. Plan S for soap. It’s good. It’s good stuff.

I have been informed that my comfort zone, my safety blanket, my beloved hidey-hole, my publisher Booktrope, is closing up shop as of May 31st, 2016. From here on in, I’m on my own.

Juuuuuust kidding. OF COURSE I CAN. See, not everyone is thrilled about the effect this will have on their careers. Myself, I’m choosing to see it as an opportunity; an opportunity to drink my body weight in gin, an opportunity to return to my self-publishing roots, an opportunity to wallow in self-pity for a while (seriously, who doesn’t like a good wallow?), maybe even an opportunity to try my hand at being a high-powered publishing magnate. You know, with a suit and tie and a crocodile briefcase and a private jet and Italian hand-crafted shoes and a combat butler named Jeeves, and even though his name was Mike, I renamed him Jeeves, because JEEVES, obviously. And Mike-Jeeves makes tea on the quarter-of, delivered without comment but with one of those dry biscuits that no one ever actually eats. That’s what kind of publishing magnate I’m going to be. (What? You don’t know! There are stranger ideas. Like a llama on a trampoline. Ever seen that? That’s way weirder.)

Well, whatever happens, briefcase or no briefcase, Mike-Jeeves butler or no Mike-Jeeves butler, I’m sure I’ll be there, weirding it up just as happy as a greased pig. I don’t know where I got the idea that a greased pig must be happy. Sorry! Sorry!

I was rather overwhelmed by the sudden influx of messages on Twitter and Facebook (and texts to my phone, which is super-stalkery, you guys, stop it) from people offering condolences and help. It’s very sweet, but I think I should remind you. I’m really only good at one thing: being goofy on paper and getting paid for it. All that business and tech stuff? I will find someone to do that part for me. Marnie and the gang will live on. Well, most of them. Sorry. Too soon? Heh heh. WHAT? *ducks and runs*

Much love!

AJ XOXO

ps. Serious writers be serious, yo.

Helloooo, people!

First of all, I’d like to celebrate. Book 5 of the Marnie Baranuik Files is sitting at 58k words and I’ve got the rest of the book vaguely plotted out just enough to know where I’m going, though it’s cloudy enough to keep me interested in getting up at 4 AM to find out what happens next. I’ve never been an outliner. I’ve always been a pantser. If I know how a story is going to end, a lot of the pleasure flies out the window for me, and I lose interest in writing it. I’m also 1/3 of the way into a murder mystery which still has no title. GAK! I hate writing without a title. Murder is my first love. (Whoa, that doesn’t sound right. Let me try again. Murder is my… nope, that’s just the truth. I love murder; the details, the forensics. Always have.) I’ve toyed with writing a stand alone mystery for more than a decade.

I can now announce that while the mystery WILL stand alone and apart from the Marnie Baranuik universe, the detective will be familiar to readers of the MBF; his name is Constable Patrick Schenk, whom you might recognize as the Canadian cop barely tolerating Marnie’s antics in Last Impressions. The murder mystery will not contain any supernatural elements; it is pure suspense. Marnie will not make an appearance. In this tale, Schenk stands alone.  Will future mysteries feature a crossover? I don’t know. I haven’t considered that yet. Right now, my plan is to finish Marnie’s 5th book and the mystery, and see where I go from there.

Secondly, I’m excited to announce I’ll be signing copies of all four novels in the Marnie Baranuik Files. Locals in the Niagara Region of Ontario are welcome to pop by and see me between 12-4 pm at Chapters in the Fairview Mall.   See you there!

I’m sensing some confusion, based on a few things I’ve seen in reviews for Wrath & Bones, about the future of the Marnie Baranuik Files. Several people have lamented “the end” of the series; rest assured, dear readers, that Wrath & Bones was not the last book in this series. Marnie has no intention of letting me rest. In fact, she talked my ear off yesterday for ~9500 words. So just in case I inadvertently gave the impression that Marnie had chucked her last tantrum, I’m clearing that up here. More dick jokes! More knuckle-dusting! More monsters! More stumbling head first into victory! I already have a sixth book brewing in the back of my mind, too, so I’m here for a good long sit, folks. Might as well lash me to the desk. Please bring me scones.

Today, there will be no words. Besides those ones. And these ones. I did not sleep a wink last night and am rather buggy. I might sleep. I might sketch some ideas. I might slack off and play video games. I will have exciting news on the booksigning front soon! Stay tuned, those locals who prefer paper copies. Dates to be announced. Until then, enjoy Helpful Cat being super helpful.