About the Series
The Thirteen Kingdoms of the Misplaced Mercenaries universe create what a standard fantasy world might look like if you pantsed it, set it on fire, and kicked it into a pigpen full of switchblade-armed rattlesnakes.
Mercenaries, sorcerers, and royals butt heads and stab backs in their pursuit of empire and control, or just a simple tankard of ale in a quiet tavern.
Full of snark, fun, and laughs, this book series will keep you entertained and leave you happier for having read it.
Description
“I will not sit here all day refreshing the Kickstarter page. I will not sit here all day refreshing the Kickstarter page.”
This good egg is Howie Mandel, poster child for OCD and shiny example of what happens when you allow your obsessions to steal your hair.
Well, that promise is out the window. Last Friday we launched the Kickstarter for Last Night at the Jolly Chicken, the anthology that introduces all the major characters behind the upcoming Misplaced Adventuresshared universe. Knowing that it was coming, I decided to heed the advice of my many friends who complained of losing weeks of work to obsessively clicking the refresh like a rat gambling on an ass-smelling piece of Camembert at the roulette wheel, and just turn it all off throughout the day.
“I can check when my work is done,” I said.
“This is no big deal,” I said.
If my computer’s mouse could bleed, it would already have bitten my finger.
This is without a doubt the very cutest picture I have ever seen of a person about to get the holy fuck bitten out of their thumb.
But why? What is it about this process that knocks so hard on the part of my brain that controls… I’m gonna say stupidity… and turns me into Pavlov’s clicking idiot? I am not typically like this.
But I think I know the answer.
I am by nature a pessimist. Now that doesn’t mean I’m all down in the mouth every day, complaining about every bad thing that happens with a sigh and an I told you so. In truth it’s sort of the opposite. I made the decision a long time ago to always expect the worst out of life so that I might allow myself to be continually surprised and delighted when things don’t go wrong. Any time someone comes up to me and smiles, or even just wants to meet me I am genuinely happy about it. And when they don’t, well, that’s what I was expecting so it’s no foreskin off my blutwurst anyway. (This is a strangely food-centric newsletter, and not in a good way.)
Not an image of asses and peckers. You dirty thing, you.
But this project isn’t about me. There are other people, writers, editors, publishers, to say nothing of the spouses and kids of all these people, who are depending on this being a success. My stakes went way up before the whole thing started, and I never even realized.
Fuuuck meee…
It might be different except for the nature of writing and the talents of the people involved. When you sit down to write a novel you’re taking a huge ass-smelling gamble with months to years of your time that you’ll eventually see some kind of return on your efforts.
Everyone is making that gamble on my world.
Then, add the fact that these other writers are all talented fuckers. Like, crazy good writers. I’d have been thrilled to be writing in their worlds, and here they are writing in mine. That indicates a level of faith that I just don’t have words for.
Good thing I’m not a writer.
Wait.
Nevermind.
The thing is, I know this project is gonna be amazing. I’ve seen what these people are doing, and I know that if you liked my books, you’ll love theirs. And if we crash and burn before anyone ever sees anything, it will have been all my fault, and everyone will hate me and I’ll go crawl in a hole in the back yard and eat dirt.
And I don’t even like dirt anymore.
So, here’s the pitch for those of you who are still with me here. Investing in this Kickstarter is not just throwing money at more books (and collectibles!) that you already know you’re gonna love. And you will. It is also investing in the lives of the people who want so badly to bring these books to you that they’re willing to spend months of their time, as yet unpaid, shuttered away from loved ones and sunlight, gambling their stinky cheeses that you will want to help.
They are worth it. I have faith in them.
And in you.
(Click here. Click it. Click it now.)
I’m not gonna beg here. This is NOT begging. Unless you’re into that. Then I’m totally begging. But you can’t spank me. Even I have lines. Unless you’re into that.