|The (slightly) Evil Dr. Emile Schmitt-Rottluff.|
Dr. Emile Schmitt-Rottluff.
Here at Shalako Publishing and Long Cool One Books, not to mention our recently-launched sister company, Larga Fresca Uno Libros, we’ve been on the internet for about six years.
That’s not very long at all, is it?
At the time, we had six unpublished manuscripts, not much skill and very little knowledge, either about publishing or even readers. That may seem odd, considering that we are readers ourselves, but of course our own personal taste doesn’t mean a thing in the marketplace.
What matters is what other people want to read.
Otherwise we would be writing entirely for our own vanity, and the audience for that sort of thing is rather limited.
After six years, a bit of a progress report would appear to be in order.
We have fourteen novels, and five different pen-names. We have something like thirty novellas in a slew of genres. We have sold short stories and given them away. We have read, and listened to many experts and authors of long standing and acknowledged stature, and we have distributed or sold over 70,000 books and ebooks. We have been published in seven languages, and published our own works in three. We’ve even had some small interest from more traditional publishers; not that we care to dwell on that or over-analyze.
We have created something like, shit, a hundred and twenty or a hundred and thirty products in six years.
And the sky is our oyster, an old Chinese proverb, one which I just made up out of expedience.
We reckon we’re doing all right, although there is always more to do—accept another challenge, question another authority, contradict another pundit, send up another genre, or merely unmask and uncloak another pompous chimera.
Hell, ladies and gentlemen, if things get bad enough, we might even write another book.
We have upgraded our skills, our knowledge and our processes.
We have six years of experience as independent authors and publishers.
We have been blooded.
We have been tested, and not found wanting, and when we were found wanting, we fixed it.
And then we came back for some more.
We are wanting no more, ladies and gentlemen.
Knowledge is power.
Power is money.
And money is sex.
Any questions so far?
We have met the enemy, and as usual, the enemy is us, and in something that doesn’t happen to everyone, we seem to have defeated our enemy, (those internal chimeras we all have and cling to with such tenacity) and to have earned our stripes in spite of all that, ladies and gentlemen.
For that reason, as well as other valid reasons, the time has come to pitch the fourteen year-old Pentium II Microsoft clone. Her job is done, and old Besty can go to her grave with a clear conscience.
She gave her all, and she will either be quickly forgotten or remembered with a curse of anything but affection.
Such is life—
Good riddance and thank Darwin for that, ladies and gentlemen.
Phase I is complete.
Let Phase II begin.
Which it will, very, very shortly.
If nothing else, new hardware and new software represent a new learning curve. All of that is going to be connected up to Louis’ head, ladies and gentlemen.
But then, the readers are getting smarter with every passing day.
We would be fools not to pay attention to that, ladies and gentlemen.
(P.S. Never mention this post to Louis, or the block will be broken and the poor fellow, who thinks he’s doing this all on his own, would be absolutely crushed.)
Essentially, I plan on embedding a terabyte of hard-drive and 8 gig of RAM into the boy’s skull, plus a few other system and software upgrades.
And, as usual, we’re going to make him do all the work, while we sit back and laugh at his torment, and in a final twist of irony, we going to let him think he is under-appreciated, ladies and gentlemen.
The only thing he gets out of it is the odd Happy Meal and the toy out of my box of Cracker-Jacks. I’m a bit old for that sort of thing anyways, but then I was old when they built the pyramids. As for myself, all I get is Stella and one or two other sturdy little hench-women.
We shall just have to make do, eh?
(Ahem. -- ed.)
Thank you and goodbye.
The (slightly) Evil Dr. Emile Schmitt-Rottluff.
Hey, check this out, ladies and gentlemen: my boy Louis on iTunes.