Books
There is a colorful history to my novel, Welcome to the Ranks of the Enchanted by Michael David, my pseudonym at the time. It came out in 1992, before the internet blew up. I was elated to see my book in a paper catalogue to be distributed to bookstores and libraries. At the time, I wrote under the pseudonym of Michael David.
Months passed, and I expected to receive a royalty statement in the mail soon. I was hopeful but realistic. The print run was 2000 copies, so I wasn't expecting a windfall. Over six months had passed, so I called the publisher. The phone rang and rang each time I called, and not long after, it was disconnected. I eventually discovered that the publisher had become defunct. Needless to say, I was paid no royalties.
Years passed, and I realized I had only one copy of my book left. I went online and found a few copies for sale. I was stunned by the prices these used book sellers were charging. For a book that retailed for $8 new, I spent almost $50 for two copies. Among the links where my book was found or mentioned, one pointed to The Ohio State University library. It was a surprise and a pleasure to see my book included in the Thompson Special Collections in the Charvat American Fiction Stacks. I have no idea how it happened, and I called the library to see how it ended up there. The librarian said the publisher probably sent their catalogue to them. They picked it from there. I still have the same catalogue. I've thought about making a trip there someday to see my novel. It can't be checked out; it can only be reviewed for scholarly purposes. To me, that's wild!
Nighthag was written in the early 1980's while doing copious amounts of cocaine and smoking lots of pot. I shopped it to commercial publishers, and I received a few rejections. During this time, my live-in girlfriend left me for a coke dealer, so my life went on hold, and further pursuits to publish this book were abandoned. As a young man, losing his first love, I thought my life was over. My muse was gone.
A few months later, Zebra Books sent my manuscript back to me. Back in the day, you had to send a self-addressed stamped envelope with your manuscript if you wanted it returned if rejected. When I opened the manila envelope and pulled out my battered manuscript, I expected to see the pad rejection; instead, there was a handwritten letter. I wished I had kept the letter, but I still remember the highlights. The editor said he had been carrying my manuscript around to meetings at the publishing house for months. He thought it had promise and was worthy of being on their upcoming list of horror titles. It didn't make the cut this time. He wished me luck and said he thought I would find a publisher for Bloodwhore, the title at the time.
Ten years later, I dusted off the manuscript, rewrote some of it, and sent it back out, this time to smaller independent presses. Since the publishing landscape had changed, commercial publishers had become less open to accepting manuscripts from writers without an agent. Nighthag was published in 1993 under the pseudonym Michael David.