“... Scalps litter the torn wounds of the driveway, some of them stuck between the gaps like raw meat caught in cement teeth....”
Hybrid Authoring
Indie?
Traditional?
Hybrid?
What on God's green earth are all these new monikers for authors now? Well, we're a secret club, making these classifications as difficult as possible to figure out for our readers!
Ha! Just joking. Actually, until a few years ago, it was pretty straight forward.
You (the author) wrote a really cool story, sent it out to a million agents, hoped someone gave a care, and got published by one of the Big Five publishing houses.
Sounds reasonable.
Not.
I wrote my first book in 2007, and was so inspired by TWILIGHT. I know there's readers out there rolling their eyes so hard in their collective heads it's like a seizure. I hear you, I do. But Twilight was a big deal. Why? It helped put YA paranormal romance on the map; big time. Did you know that Fifty Shades is fan fiction based on Twilight? Yeah. Twilight was revolutionary. I loved it. I wrote Blood Singers and finished it after reading that book. I was too chicken to send it out so I put BS in a drawer. Then I hit on the idea for Death Whispers and did get brave enough to send it out. I fully expected a ton of rejections. I got a few (lol). Then there were agents who made helpful comments (yay!). Then one agent wanted a partial (that's about 50 pages).
I was stoked like a chimney on fire.
Then he was like: revise this hard and I'll look at it again.
I was crushed! What? He doesn't like my “baby?”
Well—yeah. But the good news? The really great news? He gave me hope. I revised the MS hard (like a good girl). The day before I was going to send him the entire thing, I heard about Amanda Hocking. A chick that was truly brave had tossed her stories on Amazon. I was riveted.
Could I do that?
Yes.
So I did.
Self-publishing changed my life. A homemaker of twenty-five years that always wrote stories can [now] do it as a job?
But was I really a writer if I didn't get pubbed from a Big Five?
Yes.
It sure felt real when I was working 40-60 hour weeks, at a minimum. Then Hubs encouraged me to write under a pen name. He made it up himself (super-sexy). I wrote a lot of titles under that name.
Then A Terrible Love came out under my pen name and made the New York Times list. I about died. (I had an agent by then.) She phoned and told me, because the magic reaches their ears first.
Did I feel like I was a real writer then?
No. I felt like I was a writer in 2007 when I finished Blood Singers.
Then Simon and Schuster picked up ATL and had me write two more books. That's when I became a “hybrid.”
I'm not the only indie who went on to get a traditional book deal from a Big Five publisher.
I've done both now, and love the hybrid thing. It diversifies an author. That said, I am completely pleased to self-publish and enjoy the freedom the Amazon platform provides.
I dig a guest post that breaks down the mystique of a profession. And that is the case with writing. It's a cool job. But like any job, it's hard work. Now we have Amazon and our dream of storytelling can be realized whether it be through self-pubbing or traditional.
Being a hybrid is a wonderful thing.
(Death #7)
Publication date: September 5th 2014
Genres: Adult, Dystopia
Synopsis:
The year is 2049 and in the new dystopian order, the Randoms have risen to the top like cream. Earth faces dire consequences because of the Helix Complex and their illicit use of mass-sterilization. Many who could have children, were made into mules from the virulent Zondorae concoction of 2030.
Now middle-aged, Death’s children do their best to move forward in a world where technology and paranormal powers collide in a mix of tragedy and circumstance. Zombies have been raised for the slave trade by those Randoms in power.
Paxton Hart and Parker’s twin girls are grown and on the radar for those that understand how critical they are for the future. The tight-knit circle of friends continues to network for solutions to the depravity that has taken hold.
Can the original group right a tremendous wrong? Will the new generation of Randoms find a solution for propagation, or will their power base cannibalize those who choose harmony instead of greed?
Purchase:
Excerpt:
“Hey Gramps, it's Caleb.”
“I know who it is. I've got caller ID as part of my bundle, ya know.”
Caller ID. The most archaic thing on the planet.
Jade's lips quirk, easily making out his side of the conversation.
“He needs another ear replacement,” she says quietly. I nod, putting a finger to my lips.
“Right. Listen, Gramps... Deegan and Paxton are MIA. Ya know where they are?”
Jade and I stopped at two kids. Felt like ten. There wasn't enough protection in the world for our kids as Randoms. We still worry.
The open line buzzes. “Both the kids were here. Pax and I changed the oil out on the Camaro...”
Good, Pax needs that connection.
“There was a little incident with Deedie.”
Jade covers her mouth with a hand, eyes wide. I wrap her forearm with my hand.
Images flow.
She nods, taking a shaky inhale.
“What's going on?”
“Clyde brought her. Some ruffian is trying to vamp her psychic energy right out of her.”
“Brad Thompson,” Jade says, throwing her arms down by her sides, color spreading across her cheekbones.
I'm so pissed it should be illegal. I can feel my old friend Rage come knocking. I concentrate on my breathing.
I hate some of these Randoms. My prejudice is worse than everyone's because I was part of the problem.
Now we have abilities in the few kids who are left that aren't catalogued. Like trees, they have all kinds of branches.
This shitty Null is also a Drainer. Our government won't give them a name but us leftovers will.
What Thompson is doing is illegal. His father is also the head of the sanctions. He pulls every undead legislation he can.
The prick.
Jade plucks my sleeve and I take my free hand and cup the back of her head. “Is she okay, Caleb?” She worries at her lip with her teeth.
Gramps says, “She's okay, Caleb—just shook up.”
A breath whistles out of me.
“Okay. So here's the $64,000,000,000 question: where are she and Pax?”
Silence.
I hear Gramps do a swipe of his face with his palm. Deep exhale.
“Should've been home 'bout now, son.”
Jade shakes her head. “They're not,” she whispers at my side.
“They're not, Gramps.”
I don't ask why my zombie, Clyde happened to be corpse-on-the-spot for Deegan. I don't ask why her Null guard was absent. I don't ask any of that.
Instead I ask, “Gramps...”
“I'll find her.”
“And Pax?”
“You don't worry about him. He needs to figure out his own way about Ali, son....”
AUTHOR BIO
Tamara Rose Blodgett is the author of forty titles, including her NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling novel, A Terrible Love. Tamara writes a variety of dark fiction in the genres of fantasy, science fiction, romance and erotica. She lives in South Dakota with her family and is an ardent reader who enjoys interacting with her readers.
Author links:
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