Flying under my own radar… Yet again.

by rsbakker

What a knob I am. Here I thought Disciple of the Dog was coming out in Canada next week, when it’s already been out for several days. Next week in the UK, and not until November in the US – I’m not sure why, though I trust my Tor editor’s judgement implicitly.

I spent some time thumbing through the Canadian edition the other day – the Cringe Game, I call it – and found a positively horrific typo: a line of dialogue inexplicably put in parenthesis. I smell a proofreading rat, something tagged for a query that never got addressed. But I’ve seen too many of these gaffes now not to realize it could have been me. With brainfarts, it’s always difficult to smell your own brand.

Otherwise I have a good feeling about this book. If there’s any book of mine that you could recommend to just about anybody, this is definitely it. I’m starting to think I should just blast out all my side projects on the fly, rather than obsess and obsess over them the way I did with Neuropath. I get dark and dense when I have too much time. The fantasies are a different story: obsession is absolutely essential with them. I’m sculpting something with them – something monumental, I like to think – as opposed to spinning yarn.

So anyways, in a bid to keep my editors and agent happy, let me repeat: Disciple of the Dog is now available at a Canadian bookstore near you, as well as and, though I had trouble finding them because both retailers got my name and the title wrong (you know you’re a literary small-fry when…) There it is. My plug, as puny as it is. I’ll very much enjoy hearing what you think about it, good or bad.

Writing is a craft that can never be perfected, only improved.

Otherwise, I popped onto the Westeros board and was alarmed/amused to see that the old sexism debate has flared up anew. All I can say is that I wish my detractors would pick some more ominous names for their avatars. It’s hard to feel threatened by people whose names sound like Hello Kitty product lines. They need to sex themselves up with more masculine sounding monikers.

Because we all know I can’t take things seriously unless they’re masculine!