The Rampant Reaper Read Online Free PDF Page A

bookstores that give them an autograph party. Oh, and send galleys early because a book is old news a week after publication and it takes a month or more to line up reviewers and then get reviews into print.
    â€œMy book’s out in three weeks and nobody has sent me any galleys.”
    This sun-dappled, peaceful hamlet, presided over by a huge blue bulb on Granddaddy Longlegs spindles, resembled its main street at close quarters. For every well-kept and orderly lawn and house, there were two lots where the buildings had white paint peeling like at the home place—two-tone where patches of exposed wood had weathered to gray. Many corrugated-metal roofs replaced the old shingled ones, the result contradictory. Charlie didn’t see any doublewides, though.
    â€œAnd I should be sure to take wine and cookies and cheese to the autograph parties. And set these parties up myself by going into each independent bookstore and politely requesting a moment with the owner. And in a small town, it’s a good idea to set up an interview with the local weekly newspaper first by myself. Then the bookstore can coordinate the signing. Don’t expect the bookstore to line up the interview.”
    â€œWhat’s the gaudy blue blob up there?” Charlie whispered to her mother. It had MYRTLE lettered on it.
    â€œWater tower. Stop here a moment.”
    Charlie pulled over to the side of the road and realized she hadn’t met or passed another moving car since she’d crossed the stone bridge. Edwina stared at a large Victorian. She was sort of biting on her knuckles, so Charlie figured her mother was dealing with still more issues. Rags of water-stained wallpaper fluttered in the breeze instead of curtains, not a shard of window glass left, windows and doors gaping wounds of eyes and mouths. It was the kind of house remnant
that didn’t need a ghost to be haunted. Charlie shivered and turned back to her author.
    â€œ … helps to publish a nonfiction book while I’m at it. It will increase fiction sales. And I’m supposed to fly myself all over the country. I don’t have that kind of money, and if I spend all my time organizing these things, when do I research and write the next book? I don’t have a life now, and I’m pregnant again.”
    Charlie had an acid-reflux moment. Lemon-meringue pie tasted better going down. “Well, look at it this way. It’s your book. Your only one—the publisher has hundreds to worry about. Maybe you could do some things like that locally. Your publicist in New York doesn’t know the review and media people there as well as you do.”
    â€œOh, that’s another thing—I should hire my own publicist. Don’t count on my publisher’s publicists. And Charlie, I just moved here. I don’t know anybody.”
    â€œMaybe your husband could help out, free you up some at home so you could travel—figure out ways to do promotion. The best publicists in the business are often spouses because you’re their only client. Shirley, you signed a great contract for a new author, and there was some stipulation for promo money.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know where it went. And my husband is helping out by earning the living. Don’t publishers do anything? Oh, and I should upgrade my Web page with new and interesting material at least every two weeks and write and send out my own newsletter and keep track of all fan mail and e-mail names and addresses so I can notify them of new books and signings in their area as well as participate in the numerous chat rooms available to writers on the Internet half the night.”
    â€œConsider that the publisher has given you a break hundreds of thousands of writers are waiting for by printing your novel and lending the credence of their name to give it validity. What you do with this golden opportunity is up to you.
You’re really in business for yourself and that takes an