Today’s my birthday, so I wanted to remind you that buying Things Grak Hates would technically be a gift for both of us.

Thanks to everyone who has made this sale a tremendous success so far! For those of you who prefer to procrastinate, don’t wait too long. Remember, the price goes back up after October 5th.

And don’t forget, if you live in San Antonio, you could technically avoid shipping costs. Contact me, and I’ll see what I can do to meet you and deliver Things Grak Hates in person. Wow, talk about customer service.

“Don’t loaf and invite inspiration; light out after it with a club, and if you don’t get it you will none the less get something that looks remarkably like it.”

—– Jack London

Here’s an excerpt from chapter 13 of Things Grak Hates. Don’t forget to pre-order your Kindle copy or pre-order the hardcover here:

Grak cradles Brak’s cheek. “Sweet, simple, Brak. We’ve gone over this before. It’s only because of our people. They just don’t think very highly of bald men. More than bald women, sure, but not by much. I would love to give you greater responsibility, but first we have to get your hair to grow in.”

Brak takes that far worse than expected. “But I can’t do anything about my baldness! And besides, it’s never hindered me. I’m just as capable as anyone else.”

Grak puts on the most empathetic demeanor he can muster. “I know that. Obviously. That’s why I have you at my side, sweet Brak. But it’s hard to change the tribe’s mind. You’ve seen that first hand, haven’t you?”

Brak shrugs. “I suppose.”

“And I aim to prove them wrong, Brak, my friend.” An idea pops to mind. “And that’s why I’m offering you this opportunity. I want to show the tribe that you matter.”

Brak shakes his head in sorrow and disbelief. “But I always mattered before. I had friends. And influence. It’s only when I became cook and your servant that I lost all of that. I didn’t even know what I had until it was gone.”

“And you’ll have it once again, Brak. You will!”

“How? As long as I’m your servant, what respect does it grant me? I need more than that.”

“Absolutely.” Grak thinks quickly. “Actually, I was just thinking the other day that you would do very well in overseeing the tribe’s horses.”

Brak looks offended now. “Wha … why would I want to do that? And how would it improve my respect among our people? No, Grak. I want to be on the council.”

“An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts.”

—– Juvenal

Due to the overwhelming response to our $0.99 pre-order sale of the e-book a couple of weeks ago, we’ll be selling pre-orders for the hardcover edition at the insanely low price of $12.99 plus shipping and handling. The sale starts this weekend on September 27th and runs through October 5th.

Better yet, if you live in San Antonio, you could technically avoid shipping costs. Contact me, and I’ll see what I can do to meet you and deliver Things Grak Hates in person. Wow, talk about customer service.

And do you know what the best part of this sale will be? Despite my numerous protests, Amazon has decided to sell Things Grak Hates early. But their stupidity is your gain. I’ve worked some magic, and if you pre-order now, your book might just get shipped out early by accident. *wink*

“If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.”

—– Anaïs Nin

Here’s an excerpt from chapter 14 of Things Grak Hates. Don’t forget to pre-order your Kindle copy or pre-order the hardcover here:

Grak pauses, letting the tribe’s anger grow into a frenzy before continuing. “So I ask you, what mercy remains for such an incorrigible traitor?”

Numerous derogatory shouts aimed at Cordo make their way through the roar. The tribe is barely contained now. In fact, Grak is fairly certain they’d rip the man apart if allowed. He considers that.

An interesting thought. But no. This honor is mine. And mine alone. I’ve worked too hard to share it now.

The captives increase the fervency of their pleas but are still drowned out. Grak smiles and holds out a hand toward Frolan. The brute passes his knife without hesitation, eliciting a new outburst of cheers from the crowd.

“The ablest writer is only a gardener first, and then a cook: his tasks are, carefully to select and cultivate his strongest and most nutritive thoughts; and when they are ripe, to dress them, wholesomely, and yet so that they may have a relish.”

—– Augustus William Hare and Julius Charles Hare

“The wastebasket is a writer’s best friend.”

—– Isaac Bashevis Singer

“Metaphors have a way of holding the most truth in the least space.”

—– Orson Scott Card