Ten Things for Those Who SPAM Me
1. Auld Lang Asinine: If you're a publisher who couldn't be bothered to return my agent's phone calls about a submission of mine that you sat on during a year when I was living on ramen noodles and moonlighting as a malldrone in order to pay the rent, it's really not a good idea to SPAM me now with any promo on your new releases. I know you don't understand why, but just trust me on this one.
2. Con Proof: Whatever writer or reader conference you're organizing, running or guesting, the answer is no. To everything. Forever. You can't get me. Not for plane tickets and a free room, not for a speaking fee. Not because you can't get anyone else, not for the good of the industry. Not in a house, not with a mouse. Not here or there, not anywhere. I do not like your conference SPAM. I do not like it, SPAM I am.
3. Friendly Fire: If we were once friends but for whatever reason you've been dodging me and/or my e-mails for a period longer than 90 days, please resist the urge to put me on your newsletter mass mailing list and/or send your book junk mail to my house. Oddly enough I have not developed global amnesia, and I seriously doubt you can now classify me as your fan.
4. I Won't Fly One Thousand Miles: If you're an author who resides in a major metropolitan city over 500 miles from my home, please stop inviting me to every single public appearance you make, which is apparently ten every week. I did not subscribe to your mailing list, and I can't unsubscribe to it, either. Changing your e-mail return addies to get past my SPAM filter is really starting to piss me off, too.
5. Pedestal Pushers: If you're a writer who thinks your couple o' books career has elevated you to the status of literary giant, and you've thought up a new way to peddle this assumption along with your extremely short stack of novels while swindling money out of the internet reading public for stuff they can get for free elsewhere, please don't have your friend the garage-based publicist SPAM me for a mention on my blog. The mention will probably not be kindly.
6. Please: If you're a reviewer starting up a new web business that makes money off writers, mazel tov. Be advised that SPAMming me with a discount offer for your new service is just about the same thing as dangling a bloody hand in front of a starved Cheetah on a frayed elastic leash.
7. Re-zined: If you're starting up a new online e-zine but you have no venture cash and can't talk any reeeeelly beeeg name authors to give you a gratis piece, please don't go trawling the midlist for writers like me. Especially do not start your SPAM with, "I've never read any of your novels, but I saw one made the Publishers Weekly bestseller list. . ."
8. Strong Disarming: If you're an editor, and you've just forked out $200K for the right to publish the Next Sweet Young Writin' Thang, please do not try to wheedle a quote out of me by using the following enticements: "I know you will love her as much as I do" "A quote from you would thrill her to pieces" "You know how difficult it is to get a decent cover blurb these days" and especially "She's written the best [insert genre I write in] novel I've ever read!"
9. Vanity, Thy Name is Not Moi: If you produce any sort of plastic, useless, offensive or pricey writer promo widget, please accept the fact that I'm never ever ever going to be interested in buying one, much less five thousand. I do not need my bio pic photoshopped onto an example, either. I have enough nightmares, thank you.
10. You Don't Know Me, But . . . : If you're a colleague who has openly and loudly trashed me or my books in the past, but you have since switched genres and cleverly assumed a brandnew pseudonym, please don't send me a lofty-worded invite to blurb your new novel. Assume for one millisecond that I'm not as stupid as you think I am, and that the answer is blow me.
Upcoming this week on PBW, weather permitting:
August Biz post
John and Marcia, the Synopsis
. . . and other stuff, still in the works.