Leagurer Mark Henry (aka Daniel Marks) popped into town this week. I told him the Denver Diner had changed their recipe for Huevos Rancheros and he had to try them. But the real reason Mark visited was to show off the new Gulfstream executive jet that replaces his older Cessna Citation.
Writers spread this rumor that we're a bunch of poor mouths, and that publishing pays squat.
It's a big, fat lie.
For example, Kat Richardson lives on a boat. She'll tell you it's a nice boat of modest size. I've seen her boat. Modest size if you mean this:
We frequently jet together for Five-Star getaways. Jeanne Stein, Jaye Wells, and Jackie Kessler spent the weekend in Las Vegas renting the top floor of the Bellagio, doing body-shots of Macallan 64 off the hotel's cabana boys.
Dakota Cassidy loves her shiny and bought this Cadillac because it matched her nail polish.
Nicole Peeler and Carolyn Crane leased the Space Shuttle for joyrides.
Richelle Mead had a stroller custom made from Siberian mammoth ivory.
In other words, publishing urban fantasy has brought us shitloads of money.
How did this happen? Simple.
Our query letters start and end like this: I'm in the League of Reluctant Adults. Those simple words make the publishers open their vaults and shovel us with cash. But the recession has put the squeeze on the book business. In the meantime, I'm standing my ground and refuse to sign a contract for a puny seven figure advance.
Life is great. We Leaguers are no April Fools.