the best novel ever can be yours
I was reading back through my blog entries, because I’m seriously considering applying for a writing job that I’m not going to tell anyone about because a) it’s a pipe dream and b) I don’t want any more competition than necessary.
At any rate, I needed some “portfolio” material so I was plowing back through my blog entries, wishing I’d been wittier, when I found one I wrote about a novel called Oxygen.
I apparently loved the book, but I don’t really remember it that well. What I do remember is another book I mentioned, called Slick that I actually read while standing at the stove making my kids dinner. Maybe a burnt dinner, who can recall?
I loved this novel. I still love this novel, but I didn’t own it, and then it went out of print, and every now and then I’d google this author, and couldn’t find him either.
Well, best news of the week for me: the link in my own blog took me to the Slick page (out of print) but now there’s a Kindle version, because Daniel Price published it himself after the rights to the novel reverted back to him. (If you don’t understand that, you probably don’t need to, just move on.)
Daniel has two more books out, and I am traveling to my son’s wedding next week, so I know what I’ll be taking on my Kindle. And I’m definitely buying Slick.
Well, I’m buying it tomorrow, because I get paid tomorrow, and I boarded the You Need a Budget train last month, and I can’t spend money I don’t have anymore, even though Amazon would happily let me. (More coming soon on the delights of YNAB, guaranteed.)
But first–Mr. Price. After I read Slick, I found Daniel’s email address somehow, to tell him how amazing he was, and by some miracle, he offered to read a substantial part of what I was working on, at the time an unfinished and unnamed Nobody’s Hero. Daniel wrote me a very long email that has been lost to the sadness of ISP email addresses. This was a long time ago. You always used the email address that came with your internet service provider. Your internet may have been dial up. You downloaded email into a program, and then the computer died and the email was lost forever.
At any rate, Daniel wrote me a long, long email, telling me some things that he saw wrong with the writing, but mostly being effusive as hell with praise. (He may have only said a couple of nice things, but I remember it this way.)
Let’s play show not tell: I was on my way out the door when Daniel’s email arrived, I read it, and then I played Number One Spot like five times in a row in the car, because that’s how I felt. (Ludacris was a rapper then. The song was on a CD in my car stereo. iPod Nano had exactly one generation. This was a long time ago…)
I have never hit the number one spot on anything; in fact, I got a whole lot of rejection letters from agents, and ended up publishing Hero for the Kindle when it was finally invented several years later.
But that day, a brilliant writer encouraged me to keep going. And that was enough for me.