A NOTE ON BOOK REVIEWS AND ARCs

Here’s a funny and slightly relevant anecdote. I met my wife through a dating app. I tell people I ordered her from an online catalog. Back in 2012, when I found myself back in the dating world, I went on a couple of blind dates. Literally, two. The women were kind and things were jovial on those two dates, but in both cases, we weren’t good matches for one another. So, I decided I really needed to not rush things and had no intention of dating.

But some freinds did me dirty and signed me up to Match.com when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, they did a great job with the profile because when I found out, it was exactly me, and after being mad a bit, I was fine with it.

My profile sat there a while as I ignored it completely. Then one day, when I was sitting around the house contemplating what it meant to be single again after 19 years, I decided to goof around on Match.com and look at some profiles that the algorithm thought would work for me. It was a mess. None of the expertly curated matches matched me. It was so far off that I was going to delete my profile.

While seeking out the big delete button I saw something. Up in the top right corner of the website sat an enticing offer. “What if?” The idea being that if one thing was different in my profile or preferences, just one, then I might have been matched with these “others” that Match.com was refusing to “match” me with. I clicked this magic button and swiped through tons of pictures of matches that almost were.

I just kept swiping. That is, until this one picture appeared. I clicked it. I kept it. I still remember the gasp that escaped my lips when I saw it. I remember the surge of adrenaline as my eyes locked on the eyes of the woman in the picture. I remember my hands shaking as I read the profile. I laughed at the personality contained within, sharp, self effacing, witty, and honest.

I clicked the “contact” button and wrote what I thought was a pretty witty, well crafted, and thoughtful introduction. I referenced items in her profile that struck me. I asked questions. I gave little tidbits of me. I put my best foot forward. And I hit send.

It was the first time I ever contacted a stranger for a date through online means. It still stands today as the only time I ever contacted a stranger for a date on my own. Ever.

She replied.

We emailed for two weeks, with increasing frequency as the days went on. And then she ghosted me. No explanation. No return reply…silence. For almost two weeks.

Then one day a new email came. She was back. With an apology and a plausible explanation. It was sincere and honest and deeply personal. She wasn’t interested in a new beau. And I did something I never did before. I swallowed my wounded pride and said it was okay. Strangely, I meant it. And then I did somehting else I had never done before. Rather than moving on, I simply offered to be a friend. Just a friend. I even gave her my number just in case. And that was the last I heard from her.

Via email.

“Hey, Sean Gregory,” a random text from an unknown Florida number a week later.

I waited almost two hours to reply. I thought it was spam. Then I thought it was my old high school friend that still lives in Florida…same area code. I thought she got a new number and was goofing off. I called her on her old number and she assured me it wasn’t her. So I stared at the phone for a while longer. My daughter kept nudging me to find out who it was. I’m adventurous and curious so of course I was going to reply.

“Hello. Stalker,” I replied.

“You don’t have any pet rabbits you’d like boiled, do you?” came the response. It was within minutes. I had no clue who this person was but this response was too much for me to leave be. I had to play along.

“A Fatal Attraction reference. I like it,” I replied.

“Do you know who this is?” the stalker asked. I did not. And it was starting to make me nervous.

“I don’t.”

“Yet you still talk to a stranger? Even after they threatened a defenseless bunny?” the texter asked. “You sicko.”

“If you know me, then you know this to be true,” I play reply. Who ever this is, I am enjoying the anonymous banter. Really I’m buying time trying to figure out who I knew from Florida other than family and one freind. I was utterly clueless and the mystery had my wheels turning. I lived in Ohio at the time. I hadn’t lived in Florida for nearly thirteen years.

And then it came. The big reveal.

“It’s Jill, silly!”

THE picture of THE girl that changed my life.

When I tell you I have a wickedly eidetic memory, it’s no overstatement. It’s not as good as it used to be, age doing what it does, but I remember every detail that came next after she revealed that she was the very ghost to whom I’d given my number just a week earlier. I remember it all. Every. Single. Word.

Every word. Because every text that came after would irrevocably change the course of my life. Every word of those early days that remain stored inside this brain of mine is why you, dear reader, are seeing this website. Every word of that wonderful exchange is why I am taking this journey to publication.

Sean And Jill on the day Sean knew he was the luckiest man alive

It’s been nearly 12 years since that exchange. Every night I get to look at her face. Every night I get to kiss her lips. Every night I get to live life with Jill as I walk beside her, sharing our moments together. I struck gold on my first foray into the online dating world. Match.com matched me to my soul mate on the first try.

Jill tells me I am an anomoly. She’d know. She says she kissed a lot of toads to find her prince. She went on a lot of “matches” that weren’t.

So why the long story? What is it’s relevance to the title above? I’m getting there.

As I walk through this journey toward publishing, I am learning a lot. So much goes into getting a book published, especially for those new to the game, like me. I always thought it was “write a manuscript, get an agent, get published, get sales!” And while that is true, sorta, it’s very oversimplified. I’m a simpleton, so “yay me” for oversimplifying.

But as most of us have learned in life, nothing is truly simple. Getting an agent has been dauntingly and painfully complex. It took me several weeks to craft a suitable query letter. It took even more weeks to find out how to find agents to send query letters. Even longer to sift through and find the right agents.

Much longer than it took for that first email I sent Jill to turn into a first date.

This week I started sending out query letters to agents. The first five went out today to agents that specialize in speculative fiction. My hope is that I hit the jackpot the way I did when I met my wife on Match.com. Wouldn’t it be awesome if the first agent opens up my quety letter and screams “At last! The query letter I’ve been looking for! Look at this prose! ‘A Red Rider BB Gun with a composite stock and this thing that tells time.’ A+++++++++!” (What can I say? Ralphie and I have a lot in common.)

But I really did strike gold while riding a unicorn and getting struck by lightning when it comes to Jill.

I have no expectation of the same success here. I do, however, have a plan. Five agent query letters every three weeks. I’ll make minor tweeks to each round to adjust the letter, metaphorically clicking the magic “What if?” button on the top right. That’s the goal. And if, someday, I find an agent, maybe I can get that elusive “major deal” that Publisher’s Marketplace keeps taunting me with in the weekly newsletter.

It’s a dream. I know. Really, I just want to see people read this book. It’s taken many hundreds of hours of work to get to this point. Steven Moore has poured his blood and sweat into the editing process. Toulla Corti worked hard on the cover.

And Jill’s ears are bleeding from the constant chatter of every small victory celebrated or every setback lamented.

Jill, you’re amazing.

Anyway, the final and main point here and why the title has nothing to do with the ramblings above is this: one of the pieces of knowledge gained recently is the importance of ARCs. I’d never heard the term before this month. ARC is “Advanced Reader Copy”. Something I never knew I needed. Now that I know, I realize how important that is.

I have none.

As a result, I added an ARC sign up sheet to this website and need help getting the word out. ARC readers are voracious helpers in the book loving world. They get advanced copies of a book to read, review, and spread the word. They are lovers of books and authors. They are unsung heroes of the literary world. They relish in being the early readers of new works, find delight in discovering new authors, and do so much for those of us out here putting “pen to paper”. They have influence and followers and passion. They’ll eat you alive if the book sucks. They will shower you with praise if it doesn’t.

If you are an ARC reader or aspiring to be one, I need you!

If you aren’t, please help get the word out to the book loving community!

If you are an ARC reader, sign up to join my ARC Army here! Become and ARC Goblin in my fantastical worlds.

As always, thank you for liking, following, and reading! Find me on Instagram, Facebook, Threads, and Goodreads.

All the best, —Sean