Old Blue

My brother Johnny just finished up a grueling five months of intensive training to get certified as a Haz-Mat diver.  At forty-six, he is the oldest human being on the planet to ever do this physically demanding, and highly dangerous training.  I’m not sure age matters much to him, actually; he also has a one-year-old son (the youngest of three).  That means that I’ll be seventy when the kid graduates high school.

All the physicality of the training has my bro down to a mean, lean fighting weight.  The instructors at the Jacksonville training facility (these guys are twenty year Navy Seals) are old salts, but even they had to acknowledge the remarkable accomplishment of a battered old man coming through their system and proving that he can hang with nineteen-year-olds.  They call him, “Old Blue”, for some damn reason. 

We spoke last night, late.  For Johnny, Stephanie and the boys, it’s been a long, hard five months.  Our mother passed away as all this was going on and the strain of pressure and distance worked their little family over pretty hard.  I know I spent some time listening to vented anger and frustration over the situation, but to no one’s surprise, Johnny called me last night from his little pop-up camper (where he has bivouacked for five months) and I heard Steph in the background.  They both sounded happy, finally, that it was over and that Johnny can now move on to the work he plans to step into.   He also noted that they are both looking forward to simply having him back in his own bed for a little bit, at least long enough to rest up before he gets called out to a deep water rig, a water tower that needs inspection, a bridge with questionable support footing or a municipal water supply someplace that’s long overdue for maintenance.  Haz-Mat divers are the only ones who can take care of that sort of thing.  There are not many of them.

Despite the rough patch that the family has had to go over, I’m very proud of the man.  He went out there with men that he could have fathered and showed them all that he was still a force to be reckoned with.  When we spoke he kept going on about how he had been following our progress here with the book.  He’s not much of a facebook guy and most computer functions leave him scratching his big head.  But he was able to get his mobile phone to open the pages so he could at least see the progress we made, as he fought through pain, frustration and his own personal demons. 

“It made a big difference, Scott, just knowing somebody else was struggling too.  I just wanted to know I wasn’t just hanging out here all by myself.  Hell, you showing me how you were going to push that book made me get off my old ass and do this in the first place.”  He sounded tired as he said it.  Tired but it was a happy weariness; just knowing that he had accomplished something that most middle-aged men would have considered impossible.  But that’s my kid brother.

“I’m just another roughneck now,” he said chuckling, but the sound of it, the tone of his voice, told me he was absolutely serious. 

He said that, I suppose, because he knows I enjoy writing about those sorts of people:  the hard-working guys who live around me and make up a sizable part of the population of greater Houston/Galveston.  “I’ll probably need a place to flop when I come out there…” he added.

I moved out here a little over twenty years ago now.  Neither Johnny, nor any of my siblings has ever been out here to visit.  It’s not a quick drive down the road, like Atlanta.  But, this is the energy capitol of the entire planet and still bristles with jobs that require men like Johnny to do them.  Hell, he may just be right at home here—who knows?

More to come…

S

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This is really happening

Tormenta, as many of you know, was not my first publishing rodeo.  The Fabulous Feathermaye and I co-authored a book that came out in 2004.  When we got that little deal, we were utterly tickled to be going into print.  It is also when we began to learn about the publishing process, both what it was, and what it has now become.

Our first little book got a few good reviews, but the editing was so horrible that it was embarrassing to have anybody read it.  Common sense told us to let it die, and we did, regrouping and continuing on with new work while trying to claw our way back into a publisher’s door, one that isn’t an “Author-mill” that only wants new authors with a memoir to sell to their family and friends; those guys were churning them out like confetti and we simply had to wait out our contract’s seven year period (that ends next year) just to get the rights back away from those…people.

I’m not sure what’s tougher: learning to write a good story that stands up to scrutiny (especially if you’re a dyslexic who can’t spell), or figuring out how to bang our way into the market place.  I started out nearly twenty years ago, long before email and electronic submissions were accepted.  Back then, you had to write a book, have it printed out down at the local printer, then use good ole snail mail to send it in.  Since no one knew who I was, I’m quite sure most of those went on top of the proverbial slush pile, some may still be gathering mold somewhere in New York.  Who knows?  Like darts on a map, I was just hoping for some luck.  No dice…

As this new age of publishing came to life, the big houses began to pull back, most not even accepting cold submissions any more, no more editors sending back my work with handy corrective notes or suggestions (in red ink, of course), or worse, those rejection letters that generally say: ‘Thanks, but you don’t fit what we’re looking for these days…’ ad nauseam.  

Another door slammed, another door knocked on, another no-answer.   My friends, I have hundreds of those.  Each one now represents the start of more attempts at the great American novel, and inside each of those flawed attempts, grew the strands of something better, something that I had been looking to develop over all these long years: Style.

Just before we sent our first book off to the Author mill, we did get a call from a huge talent agency.  The main partner prides himself as ‘The Literary Lion’, and his agency’s body of work backs that up.  Feathermaye and I were still living in the Virgin Islands when I answered the phone one day…

“Hello, is this S. Bond Herndon?”

Understand, I had decided to use that pen name long before this phone call, but I’d never had anyone actually talk to me, much less address me by that name. 

“Um…yes, this is he.”

For three days and nights we thought we had won the goddamn lottery.  This guy and his round-table of experts had us pegged as a hot property!  I called a couple of buddies, just to sort of pinch myself about it all being real.  Then, the following Monday, of course it was a Monday, we were told by his secretary that they had decided to ‘go another way’.  Evidently, they had a big deal going with a book they had just sold at auction.  The book was about angels and that sort of thing.  I suppose they did not figure it best to back one book about angels and another about dark forces and New Age philosophy.  It was tough; the breath was punched from our sails.  But, when I decided to dedicate myself to this I told myself that I would not back away, no matter how tough it got.  I know an old Blues man who would just say: “That’s payin’ yo’ dues, boy…”

Maybe he’s right.

My new publisher is not Random House, Simon/Schuster or Putnam.  They're small, and they’ve been selective, for the most part; they certainly do not take on anybody with a few words written down on paper.  But, they seem to be doing things right, so far.  The Internet has opened up the world for writers and now we’re working together to simply spread the word without a few hundred thousand bucks to spend on an ad campaign. 

Thanks to all of you who’ve pre-ordered from the site.  I don’t mind signing several hundred copies at all… really…I don’t.  The publisher’s expectations have been blown away so far and we’re beginning to mix in advertising—look for those facebook and google ads!—lots of other promos as well as the possibility of a book launch party…something I had not even thought about.  My guess is it won’t be a black tie affair and we won’t even get a whiff of a New York style cocktail party, probably beer, in longnecks, at the local Ice House down the street.  That’s just Texas style, and we don’t mind that one bit—yeehaa!

More to come…

S

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Trailers, Text and Typos…

The experience of having your book published is one most people never think about when they are in the check-out aisle.  So, just for starts, let me say that “Tormenta” will not be available through Wal-Mart; they would be happy to sell the book, they just want to make ALL the money for my work.  Sorry, Wal-Mart, but no thanks.

Even though this book will be available for shelf space in just about any brick-n-mortar bookstore in the country, not all will see enough reason to keep copies there, and I’m not planning any trips to Montana, or Meridian, Mississippi to sign copies...yet, anyhow.

All of the changes in the book publishing industry has scattered talent, money and resources to the heavens.  Lots of it is laying around online now for writers to pick up and make do as best we can.  In many ways, I’ve found it better for breaking-in and making a splash, but in others, it’s been a real bitch.  Being snubbed by those that hold what you want to have is no fun.  But we live and die for our art, don’t we?

We’re coming down to the final few weeks before the release date.  Pre-orders will begin this week, Wednesday, to be specific.  This is when you’ll have your chance to grab a copy at a great price (Yes, one I’ll still make a little money on).  There will even be an option to click on that will get you a signed copy, if you don’t want to wait for me to get around to your neighborhood to sign one for you. 

This is an important part of the process.  This is the first time my publisher will have the chance to see how well the book will be received—sales wise.   We need all of you followers of the blog, as well as those of you who follow me on facebook—or at least look in on occasion—to put up!  Hey, it’s cheap, it’s a good story, and you are among the many who know the author, right?

Right…however, we are taking on a still semi-new approach here, after all.  We are going to push our marketing via the internet and need to utilize social networking; we need to make that little video trailer get seen and seen often.  So, when you finish reading this blog, please go ahead and start passing the word around or forward the trailer link.  To people who don’t know me, and don’t know about “Tormenta”.  But, if we all spread the word around the networking sites, we can reach far more people and achieve far more sales, which allows S. Bond Herndon to go on telling stories for you!  We need to go ‘Viral’ baby!

I’m getting the edited files back for review on the 9^th of November and I’ll keep you all posted as things progress.  Here’s hoping that my editor is doing her job well and that I won’t have to die of oppressive sadness due to overlooked typos and misplaced commas... much like we did the first time around. But that, my friends, is another story.

More to come soon!

S

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