Zellie Blake, a generous and beautiful woman — a fellow writer and dreamer — died two days ago. She was 27 years old.

Zellie was a tireless champion of my work. She once said I was an inspiration for her own writing career goals, but she will always be an inspiration for me. Her friends say that throughout her treatment, Zellie never lost her sense of humor or optimistic verve. She wrote often, and well.

Her personal mantra was, “Be the adventure you dream.” I am hard-pressed to think of a more inspiring and empowering personal philosophy.

Perhaps most inspiring: she never lost the tenacity that is required of a Writer.

Writers write, and then they try to find homes for what they write. In Zellie’s case, she was questing for a literary agent up until the very end. From her blog:

I’ve got just a few more queries pending.  I haven’t gotten so much as a partial request … (but) this book is NOT going to be thrown in the ocean.

Hell yes, sister. Hell yes.

Zellie was surrounded by wonderful people throughout her life and recent treatment. I know this because Zellie blogged about these people. (Her friend Orin created a magnificent beadwork bracelet for Zellie that read Fuck Cancer, which absolutely rocks.) I also know these people are wonderful because they’ve contacted me via Facebook and email. Zellie was my biggest fan, they said … and they were Zellie’s biggest fans. A few weeks ago, her friend Callie asked if could I help lift Zellie’s spirits.

A Japanese story says that if you fold 1,000 cranes, you are granted one wish. Callie had a wish … and a deep belief in the power of positive thought. I autographed the pink origami crane that arrived two days later. It was one of 1,000 Callie and many other friends personally folded — and one of more than 1,500, counting the ones Zellie’s loving boyfriend had crafted too. Callie’s efforts were heroic: she even snagged autographs from the puppeteers from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. Zellie was delighted by the amazing work of her friends.

That was six days ago. And now she’s gone.

But here’s the brilliant thing about being a Writer. Zellie’s not gone. Zellie’s friends helped get her novel Lightning Spliced into print. They’ve released it through the print-on-demand publisher Lulu, and are donating all proceeds to the American Cancer Society.

You can meet Zellie in a way, within the pages of her book. You can discover what fueled her creative drive, and unearth what kind of stories she was put on this world to tell. She forever lives, breathes and dreams in Lightning Spliced. She will always be alive, thanks to her words and your imagination.

Your imagination — and generosity — will ensure Zellie’s story isn’t merely told, but experienced … which is the greatest honor any Writer can acheive.

If you have the means, please support cancer research and the release of Zellie’s book by buying a print or ebook edition of Lightning Spliced. If you insist on sampling the book before you buy, there are free audio and PDF excerpts available for your enjoyment.

For years, Zellie provided me with her unwavering support. And through her life and death, she also gave me a far greater gift — soul-stirring inspiration.

To Zell: Thank you.

And to you, reading this: Be the adventure you dream.

–J.C.

Later this week, I’ll be in Atlanta for Dragon*Con, the largest assemblage of gloriously smart and socially-awkward life forms this side of the Delta Quadrant. I’ll fit right in.

I arrive in town on Thursday and am presently planning on staying until Sunday morning. (The late-night Sunday concert Celldweller is hosting may very well force my hand. We’ll see.)

What’s my schedule? It’s nearly impossible to say. I’m attending this con as a fan, not as an author/podcasting Guest — which means zero professional obligations, zero panels to speak on, zero projects to pimp, zero responsibilities. I’m a leaf on the wind … though let’s hope I fare better than Wash did.

My lone commitment is attending (and presenting two awards with Scott Sigler) at the 2010 Parsec Awards. I hear that event is on Saturday afternoon, but I could also be completely misinformed. A few of my works are Finalists in the Novel-Length and Novella fiction categories, and I wouldn’t dare skip an opportunity to lose for the fourth consecutive year in person.

Aside from the Parsecs, I’ll be wandering aimlessly with my sister (aka @alphasis), attending panels and probably hanging with podcaster types and listeners. If you’re attending the con and want to connect, shoot me an email using the contact form here and we’ll work something out. I absolutely want to see you, and make time to chat!

–J.C.

Let me take you back to mid/late 2006. In several key ways, the podcast fiction landscape was very different than it is today. There were probably 80 titles at Podiobooks.com (as opposed to the nearly 430 (!!!) at the time of this writing). The podfic space was essentially still forming, and creative and promotional precedents were consistently being set. The creator community was smaller (and as a natural by-product of this, generally tighter). Some of the current biggest names in the space weren’t yet on the scene.

While the current podfic space is obviously vibrant and thriving, there is little doubt for those of us who personally experienced that explosion of creativity in 2006 (and in 2005, from several brilliantly prescient authors) that there was a palatable newness in the air, a collective Go Out And Create Awesome Things vibe in the creator community. This was way before anyone snagged a major print deal. All we creators had was you — our listeners — and each other.

During 2006, during what I recall to be the height of this initial go-get-’em collaborative spirit, Mur Lafferty released her supernatural fantasy novella Heaven. It was, deservedly, a hit. In a brilliant plot twist halfway in the story, the world ends. Boom. Done. (Since the novella has been out for about four years, the statute of limitations on spoilers has passed, amigo.) And this incredible development set off an epic brainstorm in my noggin.

What follows is a document I wrote and pitched to Mur Lafferty — and informally pitched to several podfic authors at the time. There was a lot of enthusiasm for the project. For a few weeks, many IMs were sent from author to author — “A Crisis On Infinite Earths for podiobooks? Cool!” — and the groundbreaking idea code-named The End Is Nigh, conceived before Mur wrote the Heaven sequels, looked like it might actually happen.

(more…)

I have the unbelievable privilege to report that I have received the highest honor that can be bestowed by my home state, the Commonwealth of Kentucky. I am now a Kentucky Colonel. Yes, I can in fact put “Col. J.C. Hutchins” on my business cards.

While you need not hail from the Bluegrass State to receive this supercool distinction (and true honor), I suspect most Kentuckians grow up hearing about the Colonels and maybe — in their secret hearts — quietly hope they might someday become a Colonel themselves. I certainly know I did. The title is an honorary one (it’s the best deal ever — it requires no duties, and carries no pay or compensation other than membership in the Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels), but is absolutely awesome.

How did this come to pass? Thank Jack Staples (left), a fan of my fiction. Jack secretly nominated me for this honor, which apparently survived the vetting process and was presented to Governor Steve Beshear for consideration. (Only Colonels can nominate others for commission; Jack himself is a Colonel.) Today, I received a package containing an 11″x17″ certificate signed by Beshear and Secretary of State Trey Grayson. Also included was a hand-written note from Jack:

While no one can speak for the Governor as to why he writes a commission, I can tell you why I nominated you. It was for your selfless dedication to the people around you as you rose in the ranks of podcasting, as well as your contributions to the field of podcasting.

As I told Jack, I’m absolutely humbled that he believed anything I’ve done in the New Media space warranted such attention. The fact that this potboiler-writing (and pot-bellied!) wordherder was approved further stupefies me.

According to a document that accompanied the certificate, Kentucky Colonels are “Kentucky’s ambassadors of goodwill and fellowship around the world.” This is very cool, but it’s got me wondering: Does this mean I have to behave myself?

Unbelievably, I’m now in the company of Colonels such as Johnny Depp, Muhammed Ali, Elvis Presley, Winston Churchill, Whoopi Goldberg, Tiger Woods, Betty White, Babe Ruth and Pope John Paul II. I take greatest pleasure in knowing I have the same honorary Colonel-dom bestowed to Harland Sanders (the KFC colonel) and Tom Parker (“The Colonel,” Elvis Presley’s manager).

Personally, I’m hoping someone cooks up a fan-created “Novelist Version” of the Clue board game, if only so someone out there can someday say: “Colonel Hutchins in the Library with the Revolver!”

In all sincerity, I’m absolutely honored to be a Kentucky Colonel, and am especially grateful to Jack Staples for finding me worthy of nomination.

Call me Colonel,

–J.C.

Podiobooks pioneer Scott Sigler asks:

“What’s 7-feet even, 360 pounds, and will run your bitch ass right over? None other than Quentin Barnes, starting quarterback of the Ionath Krakens.”

The Krakens are the spacefaring football team seen is Scott’s novel The Rookie (you can read an excerpt in this PDF), which debuted in print last year. And now The Starter, sequel to The Rookie, is available for pre-order. The book is a limited-edition hardcover, and — if you pre-order via his site — it’ll be personally signed and numbered by Scott.

What’s so special about The Starter? Scott sez:

• It’s crazy fun, combines crime/football/science fiction
• It’s Star Wars meets Any Given Sunday meets The Godfather
• It’s suitable for ages 12 and up
• It’s a great gift for football or scifi fans

The book will cost you $35.00 US, but if you use the code hutch at checkout, you’ll save $3. Click here to pre-order The Starter.

–J.C.

You’re probably aware that I’ve retired from podcasting, and may have read my cautionary thoughts to New Media creators regarding the dangers of relentlessly providing Free content without considering its long-term effects. Here’s another post for New Media creators — podcast novelists, specifically.

I’m blessed to say that I have observed the ascent of the podcast fiction movement for the past five years, and directly contributed to it for the past four. I do not know how much influence and impact I’ve had on this model and community, though I have greatly benefited from it in creative, emotional and monetary ways. Contrary to the misinterpretations of a few pundits, I have a deep love for, and belief in, the Free and podiobook models, and insist they have personal, professional and creative worth. It is because of this love and belief — and the great admiration for you creators, many of whom are personal friends — that I write this post. To love a thing requires to love it for its beauty, and promise … and potential pitfalls.

Based on my longtime observations, I see three great albatrosses affecting the podcast fiction author space, which most creators do not wish to acknowledge. Ignoring these issues will compromise the long-term viability of the model and community so many have worked so hard to create.

The First Albatross is the deification of influential and successful podiobook First Movers such as Scott Sigler, Seth Harwood, Mur Lafferty, myself and others.  Based on the blogo- and podosphere reactions of my recent retirement announcement alone, it became clear that — to creators — my role in this movement represented more than what I personally perceived it to be. There was hand-wringing about the Free model, meticulous dissections of my announcement, respectful acknowledgment of my (and our) accomplishments, surly rhetoric, and indifference. I kinda dug the indifference, as it illustrated how small and isolated the podcast fiction community isn’t merely perceived to be, but is.

This idealization of First Movers — who are, in the end, humans who happen to be great writers (with the exception of myself; I’ve always called myself a no-good hack) — is dangerous territory, particularly when it hails from other creators. First Movers deserve this title because they blazed the trail, and greatly benefited by sensing and catering to an emerging need. Podcast fiction’s First Movers helped create the models, methods and precedents that the present-day thriving podcast author community (more than 300 strong, by my reckoning) now enjoy.

The problem I’ve observed is that despite the explosive growth in the number of creators, there is little innovation in the model or method by newcomers. New creative or promotional precedents are not being set. Many of today’s podiobooks authors precisely follow First Mover steps and innovations, outright ignoring the reality that once these innovations occur, they are less likely to be seen as “new and fresh” in the eyes of audiences when they are repeated. This means nearly all creators are following well-tred paths … and in the process, contribute nothing new to the experience or our community.

With few exceptions (horror novelist James Melzer being one), there is much First Mover mimicry occurring in this space.

The Second Albatross feeds off the first: The podcast fiction space is in danger of becoming irrelevant. The fishbowl teems with Johnny-Come-Latelies who simply preach to the converted (if they preach at all) — i.e., to the audience First Movers and a few savvy newcomers slaved to create. No meaningful attempt is made to engage fresh blood beyond this audience … an audience that has likely stagnated in size, and may be shrinking.

Ultimately, this means the responsibility to continually evangelize the podiobooks model to new audiences — and present author-powered innovations to the existing community — often falls upon the shoulders of First Movers (who are decreasing in number). We’re five years into the podiobooks model; all podnovelists should have audiences far larger than they presently have. I’ve wondered if there’s been a meaningful, resonant increase in brand-new listeners since 2007.

This is the failing of creators who do not evangelize the cause. Read this, and then breathe it: You are ethically obligated to promote the living shit out of your work, and reach beyond the community’s self-created comfortable confines to do so. From my hard-line perspective, anything less than an absolute commitment to your own success undermines the very reasons you got into this game.

The Third Albatross is The Publication Anomaly. Based on a half-decade of observation, it appears that podcasting one’s novel doesn’t much impress Big Publishing. A publishing insider I know has told me that the Glory Days of publishers eying the podspace for new talent are over. This may or may not be true, but the goal of publication — and bestseller success — has been mythologized by podcast novelists to such a myopic degree that it runs the risk of blinding new creators to the very reasons why a blessed Less-Than-10 Podnovelists have been picked up by Big Publishing in the first place: Hard Fucking Work.

No, I really mean it. Hard. Fucking. Work. It’s a level of commitment that would downright intimidate you, were you to walk a mile in these authors’ shoes. Which is probably why so few creators put forth Hard Fucking Work.

The Hard Fucking Work ethic is perfectly (and proudly) represented by my actions, and particularly by those of my friend Scott Sigler. He is our community’s Alpha Dog, our brilliant trailblazer, a living gold standard to which we all aspire … and he deserves that praise, and much more. I’d take a bullet for the man, I admire him so. His great success breeds hope for creators — he has certainly inspired, and continues to inspire, me — but this success (and to a lesser degree, the successes of other mainstream published podionovelists) also creates unreasonable expectations, particularly among newcomers:

“All I have to do is X, and I’ll be a published New York Times bestseller.”

I know this mindset truly exists, for I have seen and heard it in the emails and comments of podcast novelist newcomers. Click the Record button, and you’re on your way to fame and riches.

This is fantastical masturbatory bullshit, and yet the relative mainstream success of a blessed Less-Than-10 Podnovelists is a siren’s song for the lazy creator. “Record, post, tweet” is their sole road map to success, and by doing this and nothing more, they saturate the space with content that has no clear, messaged differentiation than all the other content.

I fear the fate of podiobook authors achieving mainstream success is sealed, and — with a few blessed exceptions — has been sealed since 2007. You’ve met the players; they were the ones in the game long before you. Unless there is genuine, concerted effort from newcomers and veterans to not simply emulate the successful tactics of First Movers, but absolutely outclass and dethrone them with killer stories and trailblazing beyond-the-fishbowl promotion, there will be no more Big Publishing deals happening in our space. And yet, this can absolutely happen, should creators be talented and savvy.

Does this mean the podcast fiction movement is dead? Get your head checked if that’s your takeaway. In my eyes, the podcast fiction movement (much like podcasting itself) has matured, and this maturation begets a host of new challenges — a primary one being that this model isn’t “new” anymore, which must force creators to make meaningful and innovative contributions to evangelism, content and business models. It also presents incredible opportunities for newcomers and seasoned vets who are hungry to bust ass, shake the tree, and outperform the established conventions and emblematic authors who best represent this model.

This is not the time for you as a creator to say, “Me too.” That is the path to mediocrity and obscurity. This is time for you to say, “What’s next?”…

…and then do something about it.

–J.C.

This turd plopped into my inbox today:

I read the first 10 chapters of 7th Son online and ordered the book. I was under the impression that the online release was not the complete novel. When the book arrived from Amazon, I dug in, disappointed to find that the print novel was the same content as released online. Probably my oversight, but it seems a wasted purchase.

If we’re defining “wasted purchase” as participating in the centuries-old practice of monetarily supporting the artists who create the content we consume, then yes — the dude wasted every penny.

Free-flinging New Media creators, it’s time we had a talk. Get your head around this. Nothing you do — no matter how much time, effort and money you spend on creating pitch-perfect, delicious Free content — will ever fully please your audience. They shall never be sated, mostly because people like us created precedents years ago that trained Free-fed audiences to be ravenous. They will consume until there is nothing left to consume, and they’ll demand More.

(Even when you clearly explain that there will be no More, and why, they’ll grouse about the inequity of your decision. I do not understand how, after receiving hundreds of hours of content for Free, a person can legitimately characterize my recent decision to leave podcasting as unreasonable or unfair.)

In today’s case, my emailer wanted More content than what he could get for Free — and he had Free access to the entire novel. There was no compelling reason for him to support my work simply for the sake of supporting it. There had to be More. Even when you give away the cow, people still bitch about the milk.

At least the dude bought a copy of my book. When you’re in this Free racket, there’s no accountability or obligation for fans to monetarily support your work. Of course, creators fully know these risks when they got into the Free game. There’s no creative rape happening here, no victimization. Everyone involved is a consenting adult.

But back to More, and people wanting it. At first glance, this is an embarrassment of riches. What’s wrong with people expecting more from creators — especially creators who give away their content? It’s Free, right? It’s a weekly bite-sized confection for the ears, munch-munch-disposable, an easy delete from the hard drive. Yet ravenous fans fundamentally underestimate the time and effort that is required to create the content they consume. They can’t help this. They undervalue creative work because they do not create; they consume. They’re not initiated.

Time for a schooling. Did you know that a 30-minute episode of my podcast fiction requires more than 20 hours to write, edit, record, produce and post? Did you know even more hours are spent promoting that content? Presented in these terms, spending 20 hours busting ass for zero pay is crazy talk. New Media creators have only themselves to blame for this; we often bet the farm on ephemeral goals such as audience size, eventual mainstream publication, and bestseller lists — and completely ignore the risks and tangible real-world costs of time, effort and money required to meaningfully play in this space.

Make no mistake: If you want to become a meaningful leader in this space — and indeed, any space — it ain’t a hobby. It’s a fucking lifestyle. (Which is why there are hundreds of podcast novelists, yet less than 10 who’ve actually secured those coveted New York publication deals.)

More, More, More. Audiences demand it — and creators do too. There is a great misconception in the podcast creator community — particularly in the podcast fiction space — that creators must produce and release more content, and must do so consistently and immediately. The rationale: If they quit sprinting on this Free-fueled treadmill, they’ll vanish into obscurity. Or in the less business-oriented vernacular so many New Media creators use: People won’t like you anymore.

This is crazy-making bullshit.

Many of the novelists who consistently produce Free content often do so because they release “trunked” content — meaning, content that’s served time in a dusty drawer — or because their financial circumstances permit them to be full-time content creators. (Or both.) These creators are rare. The rest of us heap those creative responsibilities upon the commitments of a 40-plus-hour work week and family obligations.  Unchecked, this can lead to a disconnect between being faithful to yourself as a creator, and running the risk of becoming a cafeteria slop-slinger. It is very difficult to effectively scale when you’re a one-person show.

Further, life on this treadmill can confuse short-term creative validation with long-term career goals. It also nearly always prioritizes praise over profits. Grinning at the emails from happy Free-fed fans is delightful … until the rent’s due. If your ambition is to merrily swim in the overcrowded Free fishbowl and nothing more, keep producing More for Free. If you aim to make a living wage with your words, you must be far more strategic in how you spend your creative time, and how you distribute your creative content — and for fuck’s sake, do something about getting published, or getting paid. Anything less is crowdsourced masturbation.

Also understand that unless you are a truly great writer, running the Free rat-race in an effort to desperately feed your audience will eventually compromise the quality of your work. Sure, you’re entertaining your peeps, but you’re cranking out shit. Don’t crank out shit.

And don’t give away any more than you wish to give. You are not a hostage to your audience. The only thing you owe your audience is quality Free content released on a schedule that is dictated by your terms. If those terms transform into hanging up your Free hat and moving on to other important aspects of your career, you can do that. I did, and I assure you, life goes on.

With few exceptions, creators cannot sustainably dedicate their creative lives to performing heroic tasks for Free to please strangers. This can quickly lead to consensual enslavement, not artistic empowerment. That’s no way to live.

And sometimes, as in the case of the email I received today, you cannot give any more than you already have. This is because you’ve freely provided everything there is. There is no More.

–J.C.

Have you heard of Bite-Size Edits? It’s a brilliant site that my friend Hugh McGuire (a founder of LibriVox.org, an all-volunteer project that makes free, public domain audiobooks; they were Podiobooks before Podiobooks was cool) and other talented folk recently debuted. Bite-Size Edits is such a spiffy idea, I kick myself every day for not thinking of it first.

From the Bite-Size Edits site:

Bite-Size Edits connects readers and fans with writers, right in the engine room, where sentences are honed and improved. Bite-Size Edits takes a text, chops it into pieces, and serves those pieces randomly to editors. Players get points for editing text, for providing useful comments, and for helping to get a text completely edited.

Crowdsourced editing. This is stupefyingly cool. You can help edit the works of popular writers and earn points for your participation. Even cooler, now you can edit MY work too!

My novella Personal Effects: Sword of Blood is now available at the Bite-Sized Edits site, chopped into itty-bitty segments, for your editing pleasure. You’ll recall that Sword of Blood is about Brinkvale Psychiatric Hospital art therapist Zach Taylor, and his descent into a world filled with mystery and ruthless subcultures.

Bite-Size players — that’s YOU — get points for editing Sword of Blood’s manuscript. Even better, folks receive many many more points for edits that I personally approve. Top editors will win copies my novel, 7th Son: Descent, from St. Martin’s Press.

So whip out your red pen and start editing for points here at Bite-Size Edits — and be sure to sign up (or log in, if you’re already a member). That way, your edits will be tallied by Bite-Size’s database, and you’ll earn those muchly deserved points!

Get your learn on about Bite-Size Edits here. I’ll publish another post with the winners’ names soon. In the meantime, get editing Personal Effects: Sword of Blood!

–J.C.

It is not without a sense of irony that I write this on the four-year anniversary of 7th Son: Descent’s Podiobooks.com debut.

I’ve been sitting on this news for a few days, pondering how to best present it to you — you very cool, very gracious people. I realized that my breed of pondering is often an excuse for procrastination, so I’ll get on with it and articulate this as clearly and constructively as I can.

St. Martin’s Griffin, the publisher of 7th Son: Descent, has chosen to not publish the 7th Son sequels. As with every aspect of our relationship, St. Martin’s was kind, clear and up-front with me about this. This honesty has been something I’ve treasured since I signed with the company in 2007. I consider the team with whom I worked at St. Martin’s to be absolute professionals, genuinely interested in my talents, my ideas and my work.

Brass tacks: 7th Son: Descent’s sales performance has not made a compelling business case for its sequels. Given the heroic outreach I and St. Martin’s marketing/publicity teams put forth to effectively promote Descent, and the ultimate sales results of that outreach, the publisher believed releasing a sequel would not make good business sense. Despite my disappointment as 7th Son’s creator, I am able to see the wisdom of St. Martin’s decision.

I will not attempt to find another publisher for 7th Son’s sequels.

I am not angry about these circumstances. Publishing is a business. Authors who earn a place at a publisher’s table must justify the monetary resources required to feed them. St. Martin’s took a chance with 7th Son: Descent, and that risk has not yet paid off. I fully understand this, and so should you. I remain head-over-heels for the folks at St. Martin’s. We’re all still friends. My editor there is very keen to see the next J.C. Hutchins project.

Typically, I’d present a cheerful, rousing plot twist at this point — a cheeky Hey, everybody!-style rallying cry for which I’m so well known. This time, I cannot.

It became very clear to me very quickly that 7th Son: Descent was not performing as expected. I dare not assign responsibility to anyone but myself for this. Examining the lead up to, and release of, the novel, I cannot see how I could have promoted it any better than I did. I literally went broke promoting this book and Personal Effects: Dark Art (another novel that will not have a sequel; it also underperformed). I conceived numerous brand-new online marketing campaigns that dazzled you and others. I asked you to purchase the novel, and many of you did. I asked my professional allies and friends to assist me in spreading the word, and they did. Those fans and conspicuous colleagues who did not lend a hand undoubtedly had their reasons, which I accept.

7th Son: Descent made history in the way it was promoted: It was the first mainstream novel to be simultaneously released in free serialized audiobook, PDF and in text format (at BoingBoing.net). It was the first book to use serialized prequel audio short stories as part of its release promotion. It was the first novel to have an accompanying music album (the Anyman EP) sung by a character from the book, timed to its release. I am very proud of these groundbreaking accomplishments.

I am also very proud of the long hours I spent re-recording the 7th Son: Descent serialized audiobook to celebrate its print release, and the effort producer Shawn Bishop put forth in creating an excellent product. I also stand by the time investment required to participate in nearly 30 guest posts/interviews for blogs willing to promote the book (for which I am extremely grateful), and more than 40 podcast interviews (for which I’m equally grateful). I do not regret spending thousands of dollars to personally finance additional promotion for Personal Effects and 7th Son. When you’re up at bat, you swing for the wall.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to make a living wage telling stories. That day has not yet come, and I fear that it won’t, unless some serious decisions are made. I’ve made these decisions, and I apologize for how this will affect you.

Creating podcast fiction does does not generate direct revenue for me. Based on anecdotal and statistical data, very few people are willing to pay for general podcast content, much less podcast fiction. Since my goal is to make a living wage with my words, the current monetization models — including in-show advertisements — will not deliver this. Dedicating time and effort to my non-fiction podcast projects will deliver equally underwhelming monetary results.

It is also apparent to me that using the Free model to promote a tangible product, such as I did with 7th Son: Descent and Personal Effects: Dark Art, does not deliver sustainable sales results. I have friends — some of whom are my best friends, the most talented people I’ve had the privilege to know and work with –  who have absolute faith in this model. I treasure their trailblazing efforts and enthusiasm. My faith, however, has been fundamentally rattled.

Put simply: The new media model viably supports only the most blessed and talented of authors. The time, effort and money I invest in entertaining you for free pulls my attention and talent away from projects that can generate revenue. While podcasting, podcast fiction, and — most importantly — your support and evangelism has positively impacted my life and career in ways I’ll never be able to fully express, I cannot continue to release free audiofiction if I wish to make a living wage with my words.

My plans to release a serialized audiobook of Personal Effects: Dark Art are now aborted. My plans to release The 33 as free audiofiction are on hold. I’m particularly heartbroken about The 33, as I’m very proud of the world and characters I’ve created so far. Unless I experience a financial windfall, or conceive a monetized podcast approach that provides equitable compensation for the effort I invest in writing, recording and editing those stories, I cannot dedicate the resources to freely release The 33.

While these decisions were not made in haste, you are well within your right to feel disappointed or betrayed. My soul aches, for I truly feel that I am letting you down. I do pray you’ll look back at the four years of entertainment I’ve provided, and cherish those stories and memories. I certainly do. Rest well knowing that I owe you far more than you owe me. You made my dream come true. How many people can claim such a miraculous thing?

For the past two years, I’ve nigh-obsessively wondered about the viability of podcast fiction, and if this distribution method is as powerful and disruptive as it was during its scrappy, eye-opening 2005 and 2006 roots. It’s far too early to say. Its days of newness are certainly gone … but new creators are coming on the scene every day, with new stories to share. I wish them stratospheric success in on- and offline marketplaces.

It’s also far too early to say if this model will deliver the kind of mainstream publisher attention it did for creators such as Scott Sigler, Seth Harwood, myself, and others. Blessedly, several additional podcast novelists have secured deals with mainstream publishers; their works will debut in bookstores in the upcoming months. I hope the Free promotional model continues to serve them well, and that the listener and creator communities enthusiastically support them.

I pray this model becomes a viable, sustainable business-driven movement — and not the fleeting moment I fear it may be.

Regardless of its fate, I cannot currently contribute to it, if I wish to make a living wage with my words. Aside from the sporadic release of nonfiction audio interviews, my podcast feed is going dark. I’ve spent years “feeding the feed” — my podcast feed, that is — and the real-world results of that effort have put in me the red emotionally, creatively and financially.

Some of you amazing people — you very cool, very gracious people — are owed far more than an apology. I have made sincere obligations to you, and will deliver on these promises. Fans who are owed Personal Effects “swag bags” and 7th Son “Beta Clone Army Rewards” prizes will receive them. You monetarily supported my work in good faith — faith in the novel, faith in me — and I will absolutely honor these obligations. I beg for your patience as I right myself financially, so I can smartly dedicate the monetary resources to making these promises a reality.

For those who bought 7th Son: Descent and Personal Effects: Dark Art, know that I owe you my undying respect and thanks. For those who experienced the audio and text content for free and were not persuaded to monetarily support my work, I appreciate your time, and hope you were entertained.

For the hundreds of fans, friends, and colleagues who went the extra mile in generously sharing the news about 7th Son and Personal Effects with others: I treasure your support above all.

When folks ask me for writerly advice, I usually reply with two words: Writers write. What I rarely say, but absolutely believe, is that writers should be paid for what they write. It’s time for me to write. To write my ass off, to tell stories that can be sold in many media, so I can continue to entertain you, and achieve my career goals. I am honored by your friendship, and hope I have clearly explained the circumstances that led me to these difficult decisions.

A final word regarding the 7th Son sequels: I may self-publish Deceit and Destruction later this year. If I do, I’ll let you know. It seems like a shame to keep the series’ “mad hacker” in a drawer for too long. Kilroy2.0 needs to be everywhere.

Thank you for your love and support in the past, the now, and the to-be.

With endless affection and appreciation,

–J.C.