So I am writing a new story bit by bit. It’s a novelette-length short story (i.e., over 10K words) that fills the gap between Restless Spirits and the sort-of-in-progress sequel, Ghost of a Chance. It’s about halfway done and I’m hoping to have it finished and ready to go within the next couple of weeks (you can keep up with my daily word counts on Twitter, if you like that sort of thing).
Why am I writing this story? Because I’m planning to release it as a freebie to publicize the Kickstarter campaign I’m getting ready to have to pre-sell Ghost of a Chance in the hopes of raising enough money to write and produce that dang book already.
A week or two before I launch the novelette I will be giving away Advance Reader Copies exclusively to my mailing list, and those who are signed up will also be the first to know when the Kickstarter goes live and have the first crack at early-bird savings for the first (mumblemumblehaven’tdecidedthenumberyet) backers.
So if you want in on that action, you should click here to join my mailing list if you haven’t already. I promise you won’t hear from me that often; only when there’s important stuff like free stories and new releases and book sales (and that’s also usually the first place I look for beta readers).
The plan is to kick off the Kickstarter sometime in August and let it run through October (finishing just in time for NaNoWriMo). If I pre-sell enough copies to successfully fund the campaign, then I’ll be able to devote November (and probably December too) to writing Ghost of a Chance. If I don’t pre-sell enough copies but I get enough backers to encourage me that enough people want this sequel to make it worth the time and effort, I’ll still write it, albeit at a much slower pace, and then probably do another campaign when it’s closer to done to cover the production costs.
If the response to this initial campaign is paltry and sad, I’ll cry into my non-dairy frozen dessert, accept that a Restless Spirits series isn’t happening, and move on to something else. So those of you who really really want this sequel to happen should get ready to evangelize the heck out of this Kickstarter. I may even see about putting together a street team, once I figure out exactly what one of those is and what it would do. Again, if you want in on that action, you should join my mailing list.
And now I will leave you with a sneak peek at the new story:
To my surprise, when I appeared in Chris’s bedroom I found her bed empty. I found my sister in her living room instead, curled up on the sofa with a big mug of steaming coffee and her laptop. She was just taking a drink when I said, “You’re an early bird today.”
She spewed coffee all over her laptop and sloshed a good deal of what was in the mug on her robe and the sofa. “Ron!” she shouted, carefully setting the half-empty mug on the coffee table. “What the hell?”
“Sorry!” I said sheepishly before popping into the kitchen to grab a wad of paper towels. I popped back and held them out to her, and she swiped them out of my hand.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she mopped up the mess.
“We have a situation.”
She paused in dabbing at the upholstery and looked up at me. “Is Joe okay?”
“That’s kind of relative,” I said. “I should get back to him pretty quick.”
“You have a new customer waiting for you back at the house.”
“Can this customer not read my office hours? They’re posted right on the front door.”
“This customer sort of bypassed the front door.”
Chris sighed as she picked up her mug and headed to the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”
“You know that desk that was delivered yesterday?”
She chucked the wet paper towels in the sink and went to top off her coffee. “Yeah. Why? Is there a problem with it?”
“It’s haunted. Does that count?”
“What? No it’s not. I would’ve picked up on that when I bought it.”
“Well, I guess not, because there’s a tweedy English ‘lit’rary author,’” I made air-quotes along with a poor mockery of Brandon’s accent, “who came as a gift with purchase. He’s back at the house treating Joe to a lecture on the superiority of lit fic over all other genres.”
“Oy,” she said, and took a big gulp of her coffee. I tried not to stare longingly. I never felt so jealous of the living as when I watched my sister consume food and drinks. “Wait. Tweedy English guy, you say? Is he about yea tall—” she held her hand about a foot above her head “—with glasses? Handsome in a Giles-y kind of way?”
“That’s the guy.”
“Huh. I thought he was an antique dealer.”