#Author book marketing plans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

Text

Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

#pluralistic #trustbusting #big tech #gift guide #kickstarter #the internet con #books #audiobooks #enshitiffication #disenshittification #crowdfunders #seize the means of computation #audible #amazon #verso

15K notes · View notes

hallohartje · 7 months

Text

the most unexpected thing about having covid is just the exhaustion. like wow. sitting up makes me tired now. looking at screens makes me tired now. making coffee makes me tired now. and then i still have to do emails :(

#my authors love me but my god right now their emails are destroying me #i say as i put together more marketing plans for their books #heLP ME

0 notes

ranjith11 · 8 months

Text

Typical Saturday for a Publisher | SummitPresPublishers

Publishers play a vital role in the world of books and literature. They are responsible for bringing written works to the public by overseeing the production, distribution, and marketing of books.

#Finding time for personal reading and staying updated in the publishing field on Saturdays.#Marketing and promotion activities for books on a typical Saturday #Saturday meetings with authors #Saturdays: Planning and strategizing for future publishing projects #SummitPresPublishers #Typical Saturday for a Publisher #Managing editorial tasks on a typical Saturday as a publisher #Publisher's networking and industry engagement on Saturdays

0 notes

monicascot · 10 months

Text

Typical Saturday for a Publisher | SummitPresPublishers

Publishers play a vital role in the world of books and literature. They are responsible for bringing written works to the public by overseeing the production, distribution, and marketing of books.

0 notes

malcolmschmitz · 1 month

Text

So, there's a dirty little secret in indie publishing a lot of people won't tell you, and if you aren't aware of it, self-publishing feels even scarier than it actually is.

There's a subset of self-published indie authors who write a ludicrous number of books a year, we're talking double digit releases of full novels, and these folks make a lot of money telling you how you can do the same thing. A lot of them feature in breathless puff pieces about how "competitive" self-publishing is as an industry now.

A lot of these authors aren't being completely honest with you, though. They'll give you secrets for time management and plotting and outlining and marketing and what have you. But the way they're able to write, edit, and publish 10+ books a year, by and large, is that they're hiring ghostwriters.

They're using upwork or fiverr to find people to outline, draft, edit, and market their books. Most of them, presumably, do write some of their own stuff! But many "prolific" indie writers are absolutely using ghostwriters to speed up their process, get higher Amazon best-seller ratings, and, bluntly, make more money faster.

When you see some godawful puff piece floating around about how some indie writer is thinking about having to start using AI to "stay competitive in self-publishing", the part the journalist isn't telling you is that the 'indie writer' in question is planning to use AI instead of paying some guy on Upwork to do the drafting.

If you are writing your books the old fashioned way and are trying to build a readerbase who cares about your work, you don't need to use AI to 'stay competitive', because you're not competing with these people. You're playing an entirely different game.

#on writing #self-publishing #ai discourse #publishing #my freaking industry #indie publishing

721 notes · View notes

kaciebello · 2 months

Text

Message cannot be sent

Masterlist

Delivery Express ✿

Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts. Feeling like not doing enough, some books about vampires will help.

Warnings: Making the reader feel bad, no use of y/n

Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Still mad that they took my yellow text coloring ⋋_⋌. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

Previously: Too many voicemails

word count: 1.2k

Notes to deliver: 1057

The dining hall was as busy as always. Piles of food on each table and chatter all over the place. Even the professors talked among themselves. It was hard to hear people next to you, but you for sure could hear the conversations of other people on the other side of the table. Everyone kept to their house, talking to their housemates. And that is why nobody even batted an eye at a girl in a green uniform wearing a suspiciously yellow bow in her hair, sitting next to the Slytherin royalty. The boys did not pay her much attention, talking among themself, in their minds, planning school and world domination as if it was a game of chest. Granted none of them were good at chess but they can still try and play it. In reality, they were planning how to beat Ravenclaw at Quidditch later that week. What weirded them out was the lack of envelopes she liked to have with her. Something about everyone being in the hall made them easy to track.

She received pointed looks from the boys, not noticing them, however. Draco jabbed Blaise in his ribs, trying to get him to say something. None of them dared to say anything. None of them wanted to look like despraed second years waiting for a note from their crush that had never written back. Well, that was until Lorenzo mustered up the courage.

“Where are your love notes at?” He says reaching for the plate full of chicken and bringing it closer to her. Knowing the girl would crawl over the whole table for them if he didn't.

She shrugs and reaches for the chicken strip, the plate now sitting in the middle of the group. Taking a bite before speaking.

“I sold it.” Confusion on their face as she continued to eat and pile more food on her plate.

“ Wha do you mean you sold it?” Asked Blaise. Fork pointing at her.

“Exactly what I said. I no longer run the delivery business.”

“Who did you sell it to?”

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she put down her food.

“Okay listen. I had a dream right? na in that dream an owl came to me and said if I sold it to her, she was gonna get me a limited edition of that muggle book I've been wanting. So I agreed and sold it to her.”

“You sold it in a dream?” she nods at his question. “ I don't think that's how business works.” He's sure to give her a bit of a side eyes. Maybe it is one of the muggle ways of conducting business he's not aware of. Theodor started to laugh and soon enough others joined him.

Others at the table give them looks but they have been unbothered by it. The girl started to pout, not knowing what was so funny. the boys crack more jokes about owls and cryptic dreams, she however did not pay attention to those. Not even understanding the joke about the owl possibly being Mattheo's dads. She felt a bit sad that her friends made fun of her in the dining hall. Mattheo notices this and stops.

“Wait, you were serious?” He yelps, stopping the other boys from laughing. She just nods hint of tears in her eyes.

“I don't get what's so funny.” Her voice was unstable as she said this and rather than engaging in conversations with them, she piles more food on the plate and eats without looking at them. The boys feel bad for making her feel like that, but you can't blame them. It is not every day somebody tells them they sold business to an owl.

Lorenzo feeling the worst of all of them decides to speak up.

“What is the book about?” Just like that. It was like a switch flipped inside her. She turned to them with a wide smile and sparkles in her eyes. Some would even think she was faking it before to make them feel bad. None would dare to say it aloud.

“I'm not sure, it has something to do with vampires and werewolves.” She says, gesturing with her hands, what only the boys could interpret as a werewolf.

“We have werewolfs too.” Says Mattheo, knowing damn well he did not pay attention when they covered them. He could be only half sure. Even less when the girl shook her head.

“These are sexy werewolfs.” She made sure to emphasize the word sexy. Frustrated at not having any proof for her words. Theodor just rolled his eyes at her comment.

“ I can howl if you're interested.” He says gesturing to his body. A disgusted look from Blaise and a sigh from her discouraged him from actually howling.

“What else is it about.” Says Draco, although it was hard to understand him, as he was showing his fifth scone in his mouth.

“Something about the thing that shall not be named.” She says and Mattheo's ears perk up.

“My dad?”

“No, not that one.” Mattheo just made a disappointed sound at her answer.

They have seemingly moved from the conversations. Not bothered by the fact that their friend quit her business and sold it to an owl in her dream. It wasn't so strange after all in a school of magic and wizardry. Well, no, it was strange, but not as much as people would expect.

Lorenzo however stopped his chatter when a little note fell in front of him, catching it before it could touch his food. None of his friends seemed to notice this. All caught up in their conversation, trying to see how many scones can Draco actually stuff in his mouth. So he turned to a girl, leaned closer to her, and whispered.

“I thought you stopped.” A sly smirk appears on his face. The girl looks at him confused before turning red all over her face and ears. Her eyes fell on the note that sat between his fingers. Avoiding his eyes, he put his arm around her shoulders to make her look at him. She took a breath to answer him but she only managed to stutter a few words before a yell from Mattheo interrupted her. Both Lorenzo and her look at the other boy, also holding a note in his hand. They exchanged confused looks before other one fell in front of Blaise.

More and more notes started to fall around them. Along with other mail as the wols flew circles around the hall. Everyone looked up amazed, the amount of love notes made it look like it was snowing. Few love confession howlers could be heard at the other tables. Professor McGonagall was holding a love note on her own, blushing and hiding her face behind her hands.

That's when they heard a thud on the table. A box set of limited editions of books landed right in front of their friend. The girl squealed in excitement, completely abandoning her food to immediately pull one out to investigate it. They all looked at her in shock not believing their eyes. Lorenzo's note was completely forgotten. Coos from an owl sounded above their heads. The girl snickered at their shocked faces.

“I guess I did sell the business after all.”

Notes to deliver: 0

Final author note: We have come to the end of the series! Hope you liked it! Don't hesitate to send me questions if you have any. Anyone on the tag list will be automatically added to the sequel tag list, if you're against it please let me know and I will remove you! I hope you're doing well and I'll see you next time. ♡(ŐωŐ人)

Tag list:

@daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone , @enfppixie , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers

522 notes · View notes

csuitebitches · 4 months

Text

Book Review- The Wealth Elite: A Groundbreaking Study of the Psychology of the Super Rich, by Rainer Zitelmann Notes

I came across this book because I was looking for psychology books. I found the first of the book rather boring and too textbook-y. The second part is much better.

The author interviewed like 45 millionaire - billionaires. These were his findings.

—

48% stated that real estate was an ‘important’ source of their wealth, and one in ten described real estate as the ‘most important’ aspect of their personal wealth-building. And a total of 20% described stock market gains as an ‘important’ factor in wealth-building, although in this case only 2.4% stated that this was the ‘most important’ factor in building their wealth.

‘Creative intelligence’ is key to financial success. The following is a comparison between the percentage of entrepreneurs (and in brackets the percentage of attorneys) who agreed that the following factors played a decisive role in their financial success: seeing opportunities others do not see: 42 (19); finding a profitable niche: 35 (14).

The role of habitus

* Intimate knowledge of required codes of dress and etiquette

* Broad-based general education

* An entrepreneurial attitude, including an optimistic outlook on life

* Supreme self-assurance in appearance and manner.

He identifies a key quality that is essential for any prospective appointee to the executive board or senior management of a major company: habitual similarities to those who already occupy such positions.

Skillset of Entrepreneurs

* The ‘conqueror’. The entrepreneur has to have the ability to make plans and a strong will to carry them out.

* The ‘organizer’. The entrepreneur has to have the ability to bring large numbers of people together into a happy, successful creative force.

* The ‘trader’. What Sombart describes as a ‘trader’, we would more likely call a talented salesperson today. The entrepreneur has to “confer with another, and, by making the best of your own case and demonstrating the weakness of his, get him to adopt what you propose. Negotiation is but an intellectual sparring match.”

Entrepreneurial success personality traits

* Commitment

* Creativity

* A high degree of extroversion

* Low levels of agreeableness

Entrepreneurial success personality traits

* Orientation towards action after suffering disappointments (the entrepreneur remains able to act, even after failure)

* Internal locus of control (the conviction “I hold my destiny in my own two hands”)

* Optimism (the expectation that the future holds positive things in store)

* Self-efficacy (the expectation that tasks can be performed successfully, even in difficult circumstances).

constant power struggles with their teachers in order to ascertain who would emerge the stronger from such confrontations.

Secret of selling

* Empathy

* Didactics

* Expert knowledge

* Networking.

Conscientiousness is the dominant personality trait. Extroversion is also very common among the interviewees. Openness to Experience is very common

A high tolerance to frustration is one of the most characteristic personality traits of this group.

exceptionally high levels of mental stability.

primarily characterize entrepreneurs as being prepared to swim against the current and make their decisions irrespective of majority opinion.

“No, I never did that (lost my temper). I never get loud. But I can be resolute and say: “That is unacceptable.” And then you either have to go your separate ways or make a decision that the other party might not like. It’s the same in negotiations. I was always described by other people as a bit of a toughie.”

Having the courage to stand against majority opinion is probably a prerequisite for making successful investments, as this is what makes it possible to buy cheap and sell high.

Many of the interviewees spoke about their ability to switch off and direct their focus, even in the event of major problems. The interviewees consistently referred to their ability to focus on solutions, rather than torturing themselves with problems.

At least in the initial phases of wealth creation, most of the interviewees rated their own risk profiles as very high. This changes during the stabilization phase, when risk profiles decrease. In this phase, the hypothesis of moderate risk does apply.

Conscientiousness was the interviewees’ most dominant personality trait. It is important to remember that the Big Five theory’s definition of conscientiousness does not just include qualities such as duty, precision, and thoroughness, but also emphasizes diligence, discipline, ambition, and stamina.

#c suite #powerful woman #strong women #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #getting your life together #balance #book review #books

403 notes · View notes

thebibliosphere · 8 months

Note

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

583 notes · View notes

hiveworks · 8 months

Text

Interview with Mad Rupert, author of Sakana

September 2023

Sakana, the story of life and love in a fish market, is coming back from its hiatus soon! The strip comic style webcomic began in 2010 and follows Jiro, Taisei, Yuudai, and Chie as they navigate their relationships and learn to face their feelings. We asked creator Mad Rupert, author of Robber Robert and artist of Bunt!, for an interview to celebrate the series return.

Read Sakana | Shop books & merch | Read more Hiveworks comics

Sakana has been your baby for 13 years. What has the webcomic journey been like for you over the past decade?

It really has been over a decade, hasn’t it! There have certainly been ups and downs, periods where I was updating as much as I could, and also long hiatuses. I feel like webcomics have always been an amazing space to practice my craft and stretch my writing and drawing skills alike. You can kind of do anything you like with webcomics, and oftentimes people come up with wackier, and imho more interesting concepts than if they were beholden to a large publisher. Not that I haven’t made my fair share of traditionally-published comics and graphic novels… but there’s just something so gratifying about coming up with your own wild story and working towards its end on your own time. Webcomics are incredibly tough and time consuming, but also the ultimate form of self expression.

What is the origin of Sakana? What made you want to tell this story?

Sakana actually started as a class project when I was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design. I had been accepted into the Sequential Art department’s yearly Japan trip to study comics and cartooning in Tokyo for a few weeks, and our final project was to create 11 comic strips based off of something that made a strong impact on us during the trip. We had visited the old inner market (now demolished) of the Tsukiji Fish Market at 4am one morning, and it was the most incredible place I’d ever been, so I decided to craft a short story that took place in the market. Beyond the first 11 strips, I decided to continue the story for as long as I could as a way to practice the comic techniques I was learning in class. That was over a decade and 600 strips ago! It really has become the most ambitious project I’ve ever undertaken.

Do you have the ending already written? Do you see a conclusion in sight?

Yes! I’ve always had something at least resembling an end in mind throughout most of the comic’s lifespan. For a long-format comic like SAKANA, I think it’s very important to have a rough ending planned out as early as possible, otherwise it becomes difficult to keep the narrative moving in a satisfying direction, drop little tidbits of plot that will pay off later, or even maintain your enthusiasm for the project. To be clear, the details of Sakana's “end” have changed many times, which is only natural with a very long project like this. But I’ve always kept crucial details the same: basically certain characters in a certain place at a certain time doing certain things (to keep from getting too spoilery haha.) HOW they get there, WHY they’re there, and WHAT exactly they’re doing will ebb and flow as the years go by and I myself get older and older. But having a general sense of the end in mind has kept things moving all this time. The story’s got one more volume to go, and then I’ll be done!

Your hiatus is a result of working on a traditionally published graphic novel, coming in 2024. Is there anything you can tell us about your book?

My new graphic novel is called Bunt! and it’s a collaborative effort between myself and my dear pal, Ngozi Ukazu (author of popular webcomic Check, Please!) Ngozi wrote the book and I drew it, and we’re both really proud of what we’ve made! It’s already available for preorder all over the place and it will officially be out in stores in February 2024. We’re really looking forward to getting out there this fall and winter and spreading the word about it!

You recently successfully completed a Kickstarter for an 18+ comic, Robber Robert, as well. What is it like balancing these different narratives, genres, and mediums of publishing comics?

It’s definitely been a struggle at times to balance everything, and I definitely don’t recommend working on 3 giant projects at the same time! I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do it all at once, which led to me putting Sakana and RR on hiatus to finish Bunt!, and then keeping Sakana on hiatus while I finished up RR. I really burned myself out on comics for a while, and it’s been a huge struggle to get myself back to a good place with my work. Finishing Bunt! and RR Chapter 1 has really helped reenergize me, but I can always feel myself trying to overload my work schedule again and again. It’s my greatest weakness as a professional artist.

What keeps you inspired?

Making something for myself, practicing my craft, and putting my own stories out there are all huge driving forces in my life. Learning to stop overwhelming myself with work has also helped a lot. Looking back on all the art I’ve made and all the different things I’ve tried makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, so long as I give myself the time and space to enjoy the process.

Do you have any webcomic or graphic novel recommendations?

I’m a big fan of anything fantasy or sci-fi, especially if the narrative approaches the fantastical elements in a weird, unique, and kind of gay way haha. My favorite manga is currently Delicious in Dungeon, but I’m also a fan of historical series like Golden Kamuy and Bride’s Story. For webcomics, I love anything by Evan Dahm, like his long-format series Rice Boy and Vattu. As for Hiveworks comics, there’s too many to list individually but my current favorites are Fairmeadow by KP, and Tiger, Tiger by Petra Nordlund.

Any advice for new readers of Sakana?

I would say…despite its high page count, it’s not that long of a read! The strip format keeps it moving at a pretty quick clip when read all at once (but it certainly didn’t feel like that over the last 13 years updating one page at a time!) I know that the format and the black and white rendering might feel a little dated in the current era of Webtoons and full-color stories, but I’m too stubborn to change now, and I really appreciate anybody giving it a shot! Also, no matter who you are, or how much you dislike him in the beginning, Yuudai will probably be your favorite character.

You can read Sakana for free at sakana-comic.com and print books are available at hivemill.com

#sakana #webcomic #comic #webtoon #hiveworks #blog #interview

445 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

Text

Kickstarting the audiobook of The Lost Cause, my novel of environmental hope

Tonight (October 2), I'm in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

The Lost Cause is my next novel. It's about the climate emergency. It's hopeful. Library Journal called it "a message hope in a near-future that looks increasingly bleak." As with every other one of my books Amazon refuses to sell the audiobook, so I made my own, and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope

That's a lot to unpack, I know. So many questions! Including this one: "How is it that I have another book out in 2023?" Because this is my third book this year. Short answer: I write when I'm anxious, so I came out of lockdown with nine books. Nine!

Hope and writing are closely related activities. Hope (the belief that you can make things better) is nothing so cheap and fatalistic as optimism (the belief that things will improve no matter what you do). The Lost Cause is full of people who are full of hope.

The action begins a full generation after the Hail Mary passage of the Green New Deal, and the people who grew up fighting the climate emergency (rather than sitting hopelessly by while the powers that be insisted that nothing could or should be done) have a name for themselves: they call themselves "the first generation in a century that doesn't fear the future."

I fear the future. Unchecked corporate power has us barreling over a cliff's edge and all the one-percent has to say is, "Well, it's too late to swerve now, what if the bus rolls and someone breaks a leg? Don't worry, we'll just keep speeding up and leap the gorge":

https://locusmag.com/2022/07/cory-doctorow-the-swerve/

That unchecked corporate power has no better avatar than Amazon, one of the tech monopolies that has converted the old, good internet into "five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four":

https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040

Amazon maintains a near-total grip over print and ebooks, but when it comes to audiobooks, that control is total. The company's Audible division has captured more than 90% of the market, and it abuses that dominance to cram Digital Rights Management onto every book it sells, even if the author doesn't want it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

I wrote a whole-ass book about this and it came out less than a month ago; it's called The Internet Con and it lays out an audacious plan to halt the internet's enshittification and throw it into reverse:

http://www.seizethemeansofcomputation.org/

The tldr is this: when an audiobook is wrapped in Amazon's DRM, only Amazon can legally remove it. That means that every book I sell you on Audible is a book you have to throw away if you ever break up with Amazon, and Amazon can use the fact that it's hold you hostage to screw me – and every other author – over.

As I said last time this came up:

Fuck that sideways.

With a brick.

My books are sold without DRM, so you can play them in any app and do anything copyright permits, and that means Amazon won't carry them, and that means my publishers don't want to pay to produce them, and that means I produce them myself, and then I make the (significant) costs back by selling them on Kickstarter.

And you know what? It works. Readers don't want DRM. I mean, duh. No one woke up this morning and said, "Dammit, why won't someone sell me a product that lets me do less with my books?" I sell boatloads" of books through these crowdfunding campaigns. I sold so many copies of my last book, *The Internet Con, that they sold out the initial print run in two weeks (don't worry, they held back stock for my upcoming events).

But beyond that, I think there's another reason my readers keep coming back, even though I wrote a genuinely stupid number of books while working through lockdown anxiety while the wildfires raged and ashes sifted down out of the sky and settled on my laptop as I lay in my backyard hammock, pounding my keyboard.

(I went through two keyboards during lockdown. Thankfully, I bought a user-serviceable laptop from Framework and fixed it myself both times, in a matter of minutes. No, no one pays me to mention this, but hot damn is it cool.)

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/13/graceful-failure/#frame

The reason readers come back to my books is that they're full of hope. In the same way that writing lets me feel like I'm not a passenger in life, but rather, someone with a say in my destination, the books that I write are full of practical ways and dramatic scenes in which other people seize the means of computation, the reins of power or their own destinies.

The protagonist of The Lost Cause is Brooks Palazzo, a high-school senior in Burbank whose parents were part of the original cohort of volunteers who kicked off the global transformation, and left him an orphan when they succumbed to one of the zoonotic plagues that arise every time another habitat is destroyed.

Brooks grew up knowing what his life would be: the work of repair and care, which millions of young people are doing. Relocating entire cities off endangered coastlines and floodplains, or out of fire-zones. Fighting floods and fires. Caring for tens of millions of refugees for whom the change came too late.

But with every revolution comes a counter-revolution. The losers of a just war don't dig holes, climb inside and pull the dirt down on top of themselves. Two groups of reactionaries – seagoing anarcho-capitalist billionaire wreckers and seething white nationalist militias – have formed an alliance.

They've already gotten their champion into the White House. Next up: dismantling every cause for hope Brooks and his friends have, and bringing back the fear.

That's the setup for a novel about solidarity, care, library socialism, and snatching victory from defeat's jaws. Writing it help keep me sane during the lockdown, and when it came time to record the audiobook, I spent a lot of time thinking about who could read it. I've had some great narrators: Wil Wheaton, @neil-gaiman, Amber Benson, Bronson Pinchot, and more.

I record my audiobooks with Skyboat Media, a brilliant studio near my place in LA. Back in August, I spent a week in their recording booth – "The Tardis" – doing something I'd never tried before: I recorded a whole audiobook, with directorial supervision: The Internet Con:

https://transactions.sendowl.com/products/78992826/DEA0CE12/purchase

When it was done, the director – audiobook legend Gabrielle de Cuir – sat me down and said, "Look, I've never said this to an author before, but I think you should read The Lost Cause. I don't direct anyone anymore except for Wil Wheaton and LeVar Burton, but I would direct you on this one."

I was immensely flattered – and very nervous. Reading The Internet Con was one thing – the book is built around the speeches I've been giving for 20 years and I knew I could sell those lines – but The Lost Cause is a novel, with a whole cast of characters. Could I do it?

Reader, I did it. I just listened to the proofs last week and:

It.

Came.

Out.

Great.

The Lost Cause goes on sale on November 14th, and I'll be selling this audiobook I made everywhere audiobooks are sold – except for the stores that require DRM, nonconsensually shackling readers and writers to their platforms. So you'll be able to get it on Libro.fm, downpour.com, even Google Play – but not Audible, Apple Books, or Audiobooks.com.

But in addition to those worthy retailers, I will be sending out thousands – and thousands! – of audiobook to my Kickstarter backers on the on-sale date, either as a folder of DRM-free MP3s, or as a download code for Libro.fm, to make things easy for people who don't want to have to figure out how to sideload an audiobook into a standalone app.

And, of course, the mobile duopoly have made this kind of sideloading exponentially harder over the past decade, though far be it from me to connect this with their policy of charging 30% commissions on everything sold through an app, a commission they don't receive if you get your files on the web and load 'em yourself:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

As with my previous Kickstarters, I'm also selling ebooks and hardcovers – signed or unsigned, and this time I've found a great partner to fulfill EU orders from within the EU, so backers won't have to pay VAT and customs charges. The wonderful Otherland – who have hosted me on my last two trips to Berlin – are going to manage that shipping for me:

https://www.otherland-berlin.de/en/home.html

Kim Stanley Robinson read the book and said, "Along with the rush of adrenaline I felt a solid surge of hope. May it go like this." That's just about the perfect quote, because the book is a ride. It's not just a kumbaya tale of a better world that is possible: it's a post-cyberpunk novel of high-tech guerrilla and meme warfare, climate tech and bad climate tech, wildcat prefab urban infill, and far-right militamen who adapt to a ban on assault-rifles by switching to super-soakers full of hydrochloric acid.

It's a book about struggle, hope in the darkness, and a way through this rotten moment. It's a book that dares to imagine that things might get worse but also better. This is a curious emotional melange, but it's one that I'm increasingly feeling these days.

Like, Amazon, that giant bully, whose blockade on DRM-free audiobooks cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through university (according to my agent)? The incredible Lina Khan brought a long-overdue antitrust case against Amazon while her rockstar DoJ counterpart, Jonathan Kanter, is dragging Google through the courts.

The EU is taking on Apple, and French cops are kicking down Nvidia's doors and grabbing their files, looking to build another antitrust case for monopolizing GPUs. The writers won their strike and Joe Biden walked the picket-line with the UAW, the first president in history to join striking workers:

https://doctorow.medium.com/joe-biden-is-headed-to-a-uaw-picket-line-in-detroit-f80bd0b372ab?sk=f3abdfd3f26d2f615ad9d2f1839bcc07

Solar is now our cheapest energy source, which is wild, because if we could only capture 0.4% of the solar energy that makes it through the atmosphere, we could give everyone alive the same energy budget as Canadians (who have American lifestyles but higher heating bills). As Deb Chachra writes in her forthcoming How Infrastructure Works (my review pending): we get a fresh supply of energy every time the sun rises and we only get new materials when a comet survives atmospheric entry, but we treat energy as scarce and throw away our materials after a single use:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/612711/how-infrastructure-works-by-deb-chachra/

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. We have shot past many of our planetary boundaries and there are waves of climate crises in our future, but they don't have to be climate disasters. That's up to us – it'll depend on whether we come together to save ourselves and each other, or tear ourselves apart.

The Lost Cause dares to imagine what it might be like if we do the former. We don't live in a post-enshittification world yet, but we could. With these indie audiobooks, I've found a way to treat the terminal enshittification of the Amazon monopoly as damage and route around it. I hope you'll back the Kickstarter, fight enshittification, inject some hope into your reading, and enjoy a kickass adventure novel in the process:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/02/the-lost-cause/#the-first-generation-that-doesnt-fear-the-future

#pluralistic #audiobooks #the lost cause #crowdfunding #kickstarter #spoken word #climate #climate emergency #monopoly #drm #amazon #audible #skyboat #science fiction #hope not optimism

2K notes · View notes

joelmillerisapunk · 3 months

Text

Brothers in Arms | i. don't talk to strangers

Cartel!Joel and Tommy Miller x Reader

masterlist | series masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 6,281

↳ Warnings: 18+, you're being watched, but it's different (it's the pick me quirky kinda being watched), you meet the boys, tags will added to each chapter

↳ Authors Note: Welcome, I hope you enjoy the first chapter. This is the first series I've ever written (please be gentle) also I couldn't find an accurate representation of cartel Tommy because Gabriel Luna is too cute and smiley, so I had to go suitless Tommy 🥰

Ten missed calls from your dad…

You didn't want to talk to him. You knew that as soon as you answered the phone, you'd forgive him for telling you that you didn’t have the guts to be a criminal psychologist. He told you that you were too sweet to survive. That those criminal types would eat you.

You suppose his feelings shouldn’t surprise you considering his “war on crime” campaign. He said the only place for criminals was prison. Do the crime, do the time. Completely ignoring the statistics that people that go through the system will end up back in again because the prison system tries to profit off prisoners instead of, you know, help them, like they were supposed to.

Like talking to a brick wall.

It didn’t matter that you were well on your way to a bachelor’s degree and then a master’s degree afterward. He had his own stubborn ideologies that no one, not even an expert in that field could dispute.

Fucking politicians.

Your phone buzzed again. This time a text.

Dad: Call me

You: No. I have plans. Stop calling me.

You threw your phone on the little twin bed in your dorm, watching it bounce on the thin mattress. Your roommate, Natalie, invited you to go out tonight. Most of the time, she ignored you, and who could blame her? You weren't the chatty type.

Two years into your degree, you were still buried in a book, absorbing every little bit of information you could because you found it so interesting. Natalie was a marketing major, so there wasn’t any crossover.

In your defence, your major was a bit more demanding so you didn’t have a lot of free time. But, you really chalk it up to being your dad’s only child. You were practically wrapped in bubble wrap since the moment you were born. But after getting into the thousandth fight with your father, you wanted to live a little. There was this club downtown you were being taken out to, your first experience at a club. You were terrified.

The dorm door opened. “Hey, girly. You ready?” You turned to see Natalie standing there, perfect brunette eyebrows raised. She was built like a supermodel. You swear a potato sack would look like high fashion on her. Meanwhile, you stood there in your most club-worthy dress, and it still had a collar. Natalie’s eyes flickered across your dress.

“Do you have a meeting after this or something?” she teased, not in a playful way. Her voice had a mean tilt, but you were so starved for a female friend that you were willing to let it slide.

"I don’t have anything to wear,” you stated, gesturing to your half of the closet that was filled about an eighth of the way. You lived in your sweatshirt. 104 degrees Texas heat and you’d still wear that thing around because your classes were cold as fuck.

Natalie laughed quietly, “Of course, you don’t. Do you think you can even keep up with me and my friends tonight? There’s no shame in staying in and reading…again.” She said it like there was definitely shame in doing that.

As much as it pissed you off internally, you let yourself wither. You wouldn’t get what you wanted if you snapped at her. “I’ll be fine,” you murmured sheepishly.

She passed you, smelling like expensive shampoo, and opened your dresser. “I’ll find something for you. That dress will make you stick out like a sore thumb.” She tossed a few items on your mattress. “There, jeans and this cute little lacy thing.”

“That is a bra,” you pointed out. “I’m not wearing just a bra.”

“You’re no fun. I’ve got a mesh top to put over it. You’ve got the tits for it,” Natalie said. “Show a little skin.'' You were a little thrown at the compliment, but you'd take it. “And take your hair down, the messy tousle is really in right now,” Natalie mentioned as she waited for you to finish up. And as you got dressed, you think she might have been right. Showing a little skin but feeling covered up was a fantastic combination. You felt hot.

Natalie seemed happy with her handiwork. You grabbed your phone and wallet, and you were off. You called an Uber to take you to the club to meet up with her friends, Monica and Katherine. And for once, you felt like you blended in with them. You looked like you belonged in the same friend group, and that, in and of itself, was exhilarating.

The bouncer checked your IDs, and you were in. You'd have to say that the bumping bodies, the confined space, the loud music, and the flashing lights were really disorienting. But you were determined to have fun tonight. Your heart crashed against your ribs, and you could feel the bass in your bones, vibrating your entire body. You just needed a drink to settle yourself.

Following Natalie and her friends to the bar, she bought you your first drink and shouted, “Thanks for coming out tonight!” The bartender handed you all shot glasses full of a clear, potent-smelling liquid. Tequila. You may have never had it yourself, but you always smelled it on your mom’s breath when she was around. Your stomach rolled, but you raised the shot glass and replied, “Thanks for inviting me! Cheers!”

You threw it back before you could register how the other girls were licking salt off their hands and chasing it with a hard bite of lime. The strong liquor hit your stomach, causing a wave of nausea to hit you, but you gulped it down and pretended like you meant to do that.

“Cheap tequila straight,” Monica said before looking over at Natalie. “Where’d you find her? I like her.”

You shot her a pained smile, fighting the burn in your throat. Natalie laughed and said, “Come on, let’s dance! I see some guys on the dance floor that I wouldn’t mind going home with.” You arched a brow, and you finally got a genuine smile out of her. “Not our dorm, obvi. I’m trashy, but not that trashy,” Natalie promised.

That made you laugh a little, your belly started to feel warm from the first shot you had ever taken. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You went out to the dance floor, wedging yourselves between bustling bodies. You felt a little nervous, your palms getting clammy, but you just followed everyone’s lead. You bounced along to the music, letting the bass dictate your hip rolls. Soon, you started to warm up. It was fun to dance around and move with the crowd.

Sweat beaded behind your neck, and you turned to the side, locking eyes with a dark-eyed man sitting at the bar. He wasn’t drinking, but there was no mistake that he was looking right at you. Your belly fluttered as you took him in, no longer interested in dancing. His broad frame slanted against the bar, his shirt was slightly unbuttoned and rolled up his forearms.

What is it about forearms? Your belly quivered a little bit.

You turned to see what Natalie and the others were doing, but she seemed to be choking on some random guy’s tongue in the corner. Part of you envied that. The ability to see what you want and act on it.

You were more methodical. Always a thinker. But this time, you wanted to act. There was a sinfully attractive man in the corner eyeing you. If you didn’t act on it, someone else would.

Oh, God, but what if he was looking at someone else?

As if sensing your hesitance, he waved at you, and you looked around, pointing at yourself like, “Who, me?” Even from several feet away, you could see a dimpled smile as the mystery man nodded, beckoning you over to the bar. You slid out from around the bodies to the slightly quieter bar. Up close, he was even more attractive. He was older than you but you weren't sure how much older. Certainly, the type of man well settled in his career. Made you wonder what he was doing at a club when statistically–

Hey, you told yourself, stop psychoanalysing strangers.

“Hi,” you greeted, unsure what else to say. You were very out of your comfort zone, but tonight was all about doing new things. Not that you were going to do him or–

“Hi,” he answered. “Do you want a drink?”

You tucked some hair behind your ear, heat in your cheeks from how you noticed his eyes follow your fingertip like he could see all of you. You'd never felt so naked before, but you made the mistake of looking down to see your tits proudly on display under the mesh shirt, in a lacy red bra. Your cheeks fired up even faster. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Maybe a drink would cool your nerves. Doubtful, but worth a shot. Ha. Shot. You could use one of those.

“Hmm, let me guess your drink,” the mystery man offered.

A smile curved the side of your mouth, and you were too intrigued to argue. “Okay, give me your best guess.”

“You don’t drink much, if at all,” he said, tapping his chin with a thick finger. “But if I had to guess that you were a wine cooler type of girl.”

You were shocked because he was absolutely right. How’d he get that off a look? “But, since wine coolers are shit, let me recommend a Tequila Sunset,” he said. “It packs a little more of a punch, but it’s fruity enough to take out the bite.”

You purse your lips, unsure if you'd like it, but you were in too deep not to humor him. “You know what? Sure.”

He turned to the bartender and ordered it. The bartender made a show of mixing it up for you before placing a lovely glass of orange fading into a berry red from the grenadine. He watched you intently with those intense eyes as you took a sip, marvelling that the juice took out that awful taste of tequila. You repressed a smile and said, “That’s quite delicious.”

He returned your grin with one of his own, showing off perfectly straight teeth. “I’m Joel. And you are…?”

And you answered, giving him your name.

“It suits you.”

Your face felt hot, not expecting that response. “Thanks.” You took another sip of your yummy cocktail that tasted more like juice than liquor. “So, Joel, tell me how you guessed my drink of choice.”

He shrugged his toned shoulders, drawing your gaze to the chords of muscle around his neck. Never once have you ever wanted to take a bite out of a human being, but here you were, wondering how his muscles would feel between your teeth. He wasn’t close enough to smell his cologne, but he just looked like he smelled good.

“You don’t look like you come to clubs often, so it was a lucky guess,” Joel said.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked meekly. Here you thought you were blending in nicely, but maybe you did stick out.

He smiled at me and said, “No. My brother owns a club so I’m in them pretty frequently. Checking out the competition.”

That made you feel better. You parted your lips to ask another question when Natalie came between Joel and you to order another drink. She took a step back at your side and gave Joel a once over. “And where have you been hiding?” Natalie said flirtatiously.

While Joel looked at you, he was smiling. Visibly interested in you, but with Natalie, he looked very bored. He ignored her completely, which you would have found rude if it wasn’t also incredibly hot. You liked the attention.

“Can I have your phone?” he asked, outstretching his hand to you.

You reached into your jeans pocket and pulled it out, placing it in his hand. Nervously, you sipped your drink. Was he really about to give you his number? He saved himself in your phone and handed it back. “Call me,” he said, standing up from the barstool. “Or don’t. But I really hope you do.”

He flashed you one more dimpled smile, shot Natalie one more dirty look, and left.

“What a dick,” Natalie grumbled, but you were too engrossed in the contact info. You had a hundred notifications from your dad in the notification bar, but your eyes were locked on Joel's name.

“Whatever, let’s go dance.” Natalie grabbed your arm, clearly irritated at the one man in the entire club who wasn’t showing her attention. You relented, tucking your phone into your pocket as you danced the night away with Natalie, the mysterious man from the bar on your mind.

Should I call him?

You looked at your phone, lingering on Joel's contact info. Your thumb hovered over the message button, but you turned off your screen instead. Study. You need to study. You divert your attention to your criminal psychology textbook, taking notes for various terms you need to know. You didn’t necessarily need the notes. You remembered everything you saw.

A gift and a curse. A gift for college. A curse because you can’t forget anything. Your dad’s bribe deals. All the sketchy shit he got himself involved in, you remembered. You could even remember the name on the check with crystal clear accuracy. Sierpente. A distinct last name. Of course, considering how fast your dad snapped that check away from you only solidified it in your memory. He played it off, but you knew how nervous he was. Whoever this Sierpente was, they were bad news.

So sure, you were avoiding your dad because you were angry with him, but you also didn’t want to get tangled in his web. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Because you were also a terrible liar.

You were practically a walking textbook.

You sighed, leaning back on your rolly chair to tie your hair up. It wasn’t a very good bun, but your hair was always so unruly anyway. Your leg shook, and you couldn’t stop tapping your pen on your desk, eyes darting back to your phone again.

Fuck it. I’ll text the mystery man from the other night.

Keep it short and simple. Don’t sound desperate. Joel was too attractive to find desperate and endearing. You typed a few letters only to backspace.

You: Hi, it’s the girl from the other…

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You: Salutations. I was pleased to meet…

Salutations? You started to backspace when you accidentally hit send. Sounding like a fucking weirdo by texting “Salutations—”

Giving up hope, you turned off your screen and placed it facedown on your desk. Way to fucking go. That’s the last time you ever try to make a move. You pressed your palm into your forehead. Never once had you ever used that greeting before, but you decided to send it to a drop-dead gorgeous man you met at a club.

Way to fuck that one up.

Why were you so hung up on it? Joel had this energy about him. You felt it when you were next to him. It intrigued you. You remembered what his hands looked like. Burned into your vision with perfect accuracy. You bet those hands would look great around your throat.

And where the fuck did that come from?

A spike of lust coiled in your belly at the image. Lust wasn’t completely foreign to you, but you never acted on it. Boys never interested you. Surrounded by boys in class and on campus. You'd always been attracted to older men, but you had no idea how to make a move. And your inexperience was apparently a massive turn-off.

Your phone buzzed, and you flipped it over to see that Joel texted back.

Joel: Salutations to you too. Who’s this?

Your face warmed as you tried to wait the appropriate amount of time before texting back. But in reality, you replied in about ten seconds.

You: From the other night at the bar.

Three dots appeared, keeping you on the edge of your seat.

Joel: Tequila Sunrise? How are you?

You: Just studying. You?

Joel: Another boring day at the office. You up for a phone call? I’d like to hear that sweet little voice without all that music.

Your stomach lurched up to your throat, and you started to feel incredibly warm despite your sleep shorts, oversized tee, and the AC blasting over your head. You looked over to Natalie’s unmade bed. She likely wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. A little phone call wouldn’t hurt.

You: Sure. One sec.

joel's pov

A small smirk pulled to the side of his mouth as he pulled back the curtain to look through his scope into your room. Joel was set up in an abandoned dorm across the courtyard. Temporary until the recon team set up cameras, and he could finally go back to his own bed.

You paced around your room, looking at your phone. Visibly nervous as you gave yourself a pep talk. Fuck, you were cute.

The past few weeks, he’d been assigned to you. Keeping an eye on you for Don Sierpente. A nice change of pace from breaking kneecaps and cutting off fingers. His usual mark was easy. Kill or send a message. Make it look like an accident. You, however, were a particular case. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you. In fact, he was supposed to make sure no harm came to you until Don was ready for his move. Keep his distance until his orders suddenly changed this past weekend.

“Get close to her,” Tommy ordered, playing liaison for Don. “We need her to trust you.”

Trust me? The girl was naive, not stupid. But I’d play. Could be fun.

As usual, he had eyes on you while you were at your desk that evening, nibbling on a pen and tapping your foot. You kept making little notes from your forensic psychology textbook. Wearing an oversized t-shirt and cute little pajama shorts, you looked good enough to eat.

“Call me, you sweet little thing,” he murmured, just loud enough for his brother, Tommy, to hear. He rolled his shoulders, raising his eyes to look at Joel, lips tilted downward in a displeased grimace.

Joel's phone rang and he lifted it to his ear, answering, “Joel.”

“H-Hey, um…this is, uh I was just texting you,” your cute voice whispered nervously over the phone.

He could feel his dimple puncture his cheek as his grin widened. “I know. Salutations.”

“Oh, dear God,” you muttered with audible embarrassment.

Your anxious little breaths were endearing. Joel was tempted to stay quiet and wait to see how long it took until you crumbled, babbling about something just to fill the silence.

“So, uh, about the salutations thing. That was an accident.” You twirled a loose tendril of hair around your finger, pacing back and forth in a circle. He liked that, even from a distance, he could watch you squirm.

“You mean you don’t send salutations as a greeting to everyone?” He already knew the answer to that when he got the text and saw you smash your palm into your forehead.

You laughed nervously. “Ha. Yeah…uh, I was supposed to delete that. But it sent so I gave up on getting a text back.”

“Gave up that quick, huh?” Joel teased. “Shame.”

“About five seconds from deleting your contact too.”

Joel gave a mock gasp. “Wow, darlin’, that’s just cruel.”

You made a cute-sounding giggle, finally warming up a little bit. He glanced over at his brother, clearly distracting himself with a text—probably from Eli—before he put his phone down and made a motion to cut the call. Joel rolled his eyes at him, turning away completely.

“Hey, baby girl, I actually have to go. Bossman is walking in.”

The pet name took you off guard, but he liked the way you paced when you were nervous and how you twirled your hair. “Okay. Nice talking to you?” you said more like a question like you weren't sure how to end the call.

“Definitely. I could fall asleep listening to that sweet little voice.” Or jerk off to it, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Talk to you later.”

He hung up, arching a brow at Tommy. “What?”

“Babygirl? Really?” he inquired, crossing his arms.

“You’d like her, Tommy. Just your type,” he smirked. “And if she’s your type, then you know she’s mine.”

“The last time you dated a woman you were attracted to, she turned out to be a raging psychopath,” Tommy commented.

“Exactly. You have better taste in women,” he winked. He raised the scope to get one last eyeful of you before Tommy told him whatever he had to say.

“She’s undressing right now,” Joel baited. You weren’t. It wouldn’t have bothered him, but he knew it bothered Tommy. And it was always fun to fuck with him. Tommy's eyebrows furrowed, frown deepening. Always fucking frowning. Always pissed off.

“You want a peek? She’s got the assets.”

Suddenly, Tommy stood up and ripped the scope out of his hands. “She’s a mark. Not your personal peep show,” he practically hissed.

“You’re telling me that the Don wants me to get close to her, but not fuck her?”

“For the love of God, don’t fuck her. She’s the congressman’s daughter. We’re only watching her as insurance that he’ll follow through with his promise to rule in our favor. Then we leave.”

Well, that was a fucking contradiction. Why would Joel have to get close to her if he had to watch her? “What if she fucks me?”

“For fuck’s sake, Joel.” Tommy pinched his nose in frustration. “Drop it.”

He leaned back, pleased by Tommy's reaction. “She’s been my mark for three weeks and you don’t even know what she looks like.” Joel took a pack of smokes out of his jeans pocket, lighting up right in the room. “Humor me. See for yourself how fucking cute she is.”

“No,” Tommy hissed.

“Why? Do you think you’ll get attached?” Joel pouted his lower lip. “I know you have a soft spot for soft spoken women. I thought you were supposed to be the big bad Tommy Miller and now you won’t even look in the direction of a mark? You’re not even the least bit curious why the Don has his eye on her?”

Joel was baiting him and he knew it. He didn’t even know why he did this, but he liked getting under Tommy's skin. It proved that he still had a heart after all the shit that happened to them. He wasn’t like Joel and he shouldn’t be. He carried all that weight for them so no one else had to feel it. All that stress could break a man down.

Tommy sighed, sitting back down at the table, and taking Joel's scope with him. “Why do you think you were assigned to this?”

Joel raised his eyebrows. “Enlighten me. Why wasn’t Eli assigned for babysitting duty?”

“Because he would start to feel bad about her. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much of anything,” he said.

He was right. The only attachments he had were Tommy and Eli, his brothers. Part of him wondered what it would be like to care. A small little part of him ached for those attachments. But most of him didn’t give a fuck unless it gave him something he wanted.

“Speaking of, he’s flying back from Mexico next week,” Tommy explained.

“About fucking time. I missed the empathetic asshole,” Joel commented. Eli was too nice for this line of work. He wasn’t a good fit for the cartel, but he was trapped in this arrangement. So was Joel. So was Tommy.

They were Don Sierpiente’s lapdogs and there wasn’t jack shit they could do about it. Til the day they died, the old fuck owned them. Tommy at least had enough sense to make himself indispensable. And if Tommy was indispensable, so were the rest of them. Package deal. The Miller brothers. They were a package deal in many parts of life.

Tommy nodded, deep in thought. He didn’t like it when Eli was sent over the border because he never knew if he’d come back. He was sure Eli could handle himself just fine, but Tommy practically raised them, so he still sees Eli as the thirteen-year-old jackass who moved the neighbor’s gnome every morning to make her think it was moving on its own. And Tommy, being eighteen and struggling to help mom make ends meet at the time, felt like he needed to protect Eli from every little thing. Of course, good ol’ Eli doesn’t help his case when he still plays tricks all these years later.

Tommy got up from his seat, still pissed off. This time, not at Joel, it was at whoever was messaging him. Not that he would ever tell Joel what was really going on. Tommy was still trying to protect his brothers. Joel would find it endearing if it didn’t annoy him so much.

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later,” Tommy said as he left before Joel could get a word in. But, he’d done his part. Now Joel just had to watch the pieces fall into place.

your pov

Time for coffee. Your caffeine fix. You were up all night studying for some bullshit math test that had nothing to do with your major, but it was a requirement. Sure, you can remember obscure terms or exactly what someone was wearing at brunch four years ago. But math? Your Achilles heel. So now you had to wake back up before you went to the class you actually liked. You just hoped you survived math long enough to get the credit for your transcript and never have to do an equation ever again.

Your phone buzzed.

Tucking your book under your arm, you reached into your pocket to see a missed message from Joel. You'd only met him a week ago, but you really enjoyed texting him. Your lips quirked into a smile when you saw it.

Joel: Hey, do you want to get a drink with me?

You: Tonight? I can’t. I have a morning class tomorrow.

Joel: That’s a shame.

Your stomach twisted because you did want to get a drink with him. He made you nervous in a good way and…he intrigued you.

You: Tomorrow?

Joel: Tomorrow is good.

Say something flirty.

You: Maybe I’ll let you buy me a drink.

Oh yeah. Hook, line, and sinker. You could pat yourself on the back for that one.

Joel: What else would you let me do?

Instantly, your entire body was hot. You could hear that sentence in his voice. That deep, sexy voice that made your knees wobble when you talked to him on the phone. That sweet-talker. But you'd be lying if you said you didn’t like it. You like how your belly flushed with heat. What would you let him do to you?

You: Buy a girl dinner first, Joel.

You giggled to yourself at that one, shifting foot to foot, still walking toward that coffee shop without a care as to where you were going.

Joel: I’ll take you up on that, baby girl.

Why did you like that? Never once had you ever liked being called baby girl or doll or sweetheart or any pet name, but when Joel said it so nonchalantly on the phone, your thighs tingled. Wetness pooled in your panties, and you didn’t understand why you liked it so much. Joel was an anomaly to you. He drew you in. Sent little shivers down your spine. Whether it was danger or attraction, you weren't quite sure. You were still trying to pinpoint exactly what it was about him. Maybe it was his absolute certainty in himself. The arrogance you could hear in his voice. He knew who he was, and you were still trying to find that out about yourself. Maybe you envied it a little bit. You had this urge to absorb some of that certainty.

Really, it didn’t surprise you. You were a psychology major and therefore hyperaware of how your parents influenced your childhood. You dissect people based on their walk, the flicker in their eyes, and the fluctuations in their voices. You could read just about anyone. Except for Joel. His mannerisms contradicted themselves. He’d say one thing with complete conviction while his body language said something else entirely. You wanted to get into his head and figure out what he was thinking. That came from your mother. She was an alcoholic talk show host who knew what buttons to press to make the best TV. Your father knew how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. A match made in Hell. That’s why they’re divorced.

Some divorced kids would be excited to have two versions of holidays, but while your dad spoiled you rotten, your mother forgot you existed. She’d forget birthdays. Important events. Always absent. Always drunk. Months, you were trapped in her condo, wondering if you'd find her body, finally worn to nothing from years of substance abuse. You would wake up on Christmas day to find her intoxicated on the kitchen floor, knife in her hand, in a pool of her own sick. You never knew what she planned to do with that knife. Was it for you? Or for her?

She’d tell you she was fine. That she wouldn’t relapse again. You had to protect yourself from her. No child should ever have to protect themselves from their parents. She was always lying. Eventually, your dad got full custody of you. He wasn’t much better, but at least you knew he loved you in his own way.

Unfortunately, he overcorrected. And manipulated to “keep you safe”. Your dad was a master manipulator. Your childhood was in the confines of homeschooling and avoiding paparazzi. But the love child of a politician and a public TV personality made for a complicated childhood. It only got worse as you started to grow up. You became anti-social. Cautious. You're still trying to unlearn the survival mechanisms you taught yourself. The flinching and the shaking. The “shut up and smile,” mentality.

Now you were free from your father’s legal ownership of you, but there was only so much behavior you could correct. And that’s why you have an uncanny ability to know when people are lying to you. You swear you're too fucking observant for your own good.

And just as that thought crossed your mind, you ran face-first into an incredibly firm chest. The man’s coffee went flying, saturating a white dress shirt. Your phone propelled across the sidewalk. And your textbook skidded over and tripped a student who got caught up in your acute sense of observation.

“I’m so sorry!” you gasp, trying to salvage his coffee cup, but it’s toast. You didn’t even look up at him as you went for your textbook. Black slacks appeared in front of your vision as he helped you gather your stuff. The first thing you noticed was scarred knuckles. The second thing, his voice.

“It’s fine.”

Your face was boiling. You can’t believe you just did that. Why do you even go outside? His scarred hands outstretched your book and phone to you. You took them, sheepishly looking up into deep eyes. “Thank you,” you said, tucking some of your hair behind your ears. This man couldn’t have been a student. He wore a suit jacket, also stained with coffee. “Your jacket,” you gasped, now seeing the damage you caused. “Oh no. Can I do anything?”

His nose had clearly been broken a few times. His thick dark hair had a few streaks of gray through it, aging him slightly, but you only found yourself more attracted to him. He shrugged his jacket off and you got an eyeful of a soaked shirt clinging to his toned body.

Good Lord.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just get another,” he commented offhandedly.

You felt like you had to do something. You did just completely destroy his shirt. “Please, at least let me get you another coffee. I feel awful.”

He rolled his shoulders and you swear your mouth watered a little bit. First you ran into Joel last week and now you run into another stunningly gorgeous man? “If you insist,” was all he said. But you felt like his lack of speech only made whatever he didn’t say much louder. His mouth was curved downward into a rather aggressive scowl which would typically send anyone else running away, but his shoulders were slack, relaxed. The unconscious language put you more at ease than his face did. You wondered if perhaps the grimace was a defence mechanism. Perhaps developed at a young age–

Stop psychoanalysing everyone. Get it together!

You greeted him abruptly stating your name, outstretching your hand to shake his in greeting. He looked at your hand but didn’t take it. You tried not to take that personally.

“Really?”

You babbled nervously, explaining why you were named what you were named. He watched you closely, still not smiling, but his tongue curved against the inside of his cheek, making it just out a little in an expression you translated as amusement. “I’m Tommy.”

“Well, let’s go get you that coffee, Tommy. I probably already made you late for your meeting.” You tucked your book under your arm, pocketing your phone to not distract yourself anymore. The student you tripped with your book gave you a death glare as you mouthed, ��Sorry.”

“Meeting?” Tommy asked.

“Do you wear suits for fun?” you commented, your favorite coffee shop coming into view.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I work in the area, but I don’t have an office job.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“Finance,” he stated without missing a beat. A slight fall in his voice. An alteration in his speech pattern. An odd thing to lie about, but he also hadn’t talked long enough for you to determine his speech pattern.

“Oh?”

He diverted the conversation, another indication he was lying. You felt the urge to prod, but you didn’t know this man. Why he was lying was none of your business. Maybe he was sneaking around. Or cheating on his wife. You glanced down at his hands. No ring. Not married. Unless he took it off, but you didn’t see a tan line either.

“Are you a student here?” Tommy asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yeah, I’m in my second year. Studying psychology with a focus on criminal psychology.”

“Busy girl then,” he commented, but for some reason it made your insides twist. You felt hyperaware of his gaze. It felt curious even if his scowl said otherwise. People can rarely hide the truth in their eyes.

You chuckled, trying to sound at ease even though your body was twisting and tightening against your control. “That’s me. Busy. Busy.”

There wasn’t a long line at the coffee shop as you went up to the counter and ordered your usual. Iced coffee and a cream cheese danish. You went absolutely feral for their danishes. Homemade and always warm. Your favorite snack between classes. Tommy spoke his order. Medium coffee black. Nothing to dress it up.

“Have you tried their danishes?” you asked, gesturing to the glass case. “I’ll buy you one. They’ll change your life.”

The cashier laughed. “High praise from you.”

His eyebrow twitched and he said, “Fine. I’ll take a strawberry one.”

“Excellent choice,” the cashier stated as he started to get the order ready.

“Tap your chip when you’re ready.”

You nodded, pulling your wallet out of your pocket, but Tommy beat you to it, swiping a platinum credit card. “Hey!” you objected. “Let me get that for you.”

“I have more than enough money. I’m not letting a college kid buy me anything,” Tommy started with a complete monotone.

You brushed some of your unruly hair back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he shrugged. The cashier came back with your orders and Tommy handed you your coffee and danish. His fingertips brushed yours and small shocks erupted up your arm, leaving tingles prickling the hair on your arms. “Consider this a gift.”

You raised both your eyebrows, brushing off the addicting sensation tingling your arms. “For dumping hot coffee all over you?”

The corner of his full lips curled up for a fraction of a second before it was gone. “For the conversation.”

Your breath escaped your lungs and you stood there completely dumbfounded. “You’re welcome.”

“Now,” he held up his paper sack housing a delicious danish, “this danish better change my life.”

“It will,” you promised.

His eyes flickered. “Nice talking to you.”

“You too, Tommy,” you murmured, liking the way his name sounded. Coating your tongue like golden syrup. He nodded and turned away, exiting the coffee shop without another word. Your eyes were glued to him as he left, helplessly gliding down his back to his waist and thighs.

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself as you brought your danish to your lips and took a bite. Flavor exploded across your tongue. Tangy. Creamy. Buttery. Yum. You looked over at the cashier and shouted, “You’ve outdone yourself, Steve!”

The cashier shot you a smile and waved you goodbye as you left. Thankfully, you still had a little time before class to enjoy your coffee.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller #tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction

186 notes · View notes