Wow, that got your attention.
I am a hair’s breadth from being done with social media. There is an excellent chance that by the time the next book comes out, I will have no social media presence at all. You’ll have to either email me, or come to a con or book signing, if you want to talk to me. Oxblood Books will maintain a social media presence with my appearance dates and release information, and I’ll keep this blog going, of course. At this point, the signal to noise ratio has made almost all social media useless as avenues of promotion.
There was a thing a long time ago–before some of you were born, we’re going way back, now–I resisted getting a mobile phone until the last possible moment. Not because I feared change, not because I didn’t see the utility of technology, but because the value of your time increases in direct proportion with the amount of effort it takes to reach you. If the only way to get hold of you is to drive to your house, people aren’t going to fuck around and ask you “HI WYD” at 0230. They’ll knock on your door and bring beer, because going to see you means they have to put some effort in.
I live in the woods on effectively an island. Announce yourself clearly at the intercom, and I’ll put something out.
Actually, no, you can’t submit an appeal. There is literally no one in the content moderation department anymore.
Fuck you, Elon; fuck you, Donald Trump; fuck you, Wagner Group (chin up, lads, we’ll always have Kasha’am, think of the good old days); fuck you, Putin, you Doberman-blowing bitch; and fuck the Saudi Government, clear to the elbow right in their hairy inbred assholes, but thanks for the cigars and the steak, that shit was top-notch. Did I miss anybody? Oh, right, Mike Flynn. To the elbow, buddy.
Actually, if this offends you, then hey, fuck you, too. Have a great day. Bye, now.