Tag Archives: Scott Eder

To Quit or Not to Quit?

That wraps it up for us this month, and what a month it was! We dove into making goals, how to make better goals, when to amend your goals, and when to quit your goals. We hope our insights were helpful to you, and that you carry some of our hard-earned wisdom with you into your future work.

In case you missed a post this month, here they are:

The Stories that Just Don’t Sell by Mary Pletsch

We Always Need a Goal by Ace Jordan

Quitting by Nicholas Ruva

New Goal: Stop Making Goals by Kristin Luna (that’s me!)

A Gamer’s Guide to Quitting by Heidi Wilde

How Goals Can Destroy Your Writing Career by Gregory Little

Finish What You Start, or Not by Kevin Ikenberry

A Faster Book, or A Better Book? by Frank Morin

Quitting with Feeling by David Heyman

In Favor of Failure by Colton Hehr

The Goal Post by Sean Golden

Obstacles May Be Closer Than They Appear by Kim May

To Goal or Not to Goal, That Is The Question by Jo Schneider

Made to Be Broken by Hamilton Perez

2018 – Hello, Universe Calling, Is Scott There? by Scott Eder

When Chronic Illness Sabotages Goals by Ace Jordan

Setting Realistic, S.M.A.R.T. Goals by Shannon Fox

Resources on Goal Setting and Quitting Goals by Kristin Luna


What were some of your favorite posts this month? Did we leave anything out? Comment and let us know!

Tampa Bay Comic Con – If We Build It, They Will Come


Ahhh, Tampa in August. Where lightning-quick geckos scurry across the sun-baked pavement and the heat makes you wilt, there you will find this sparkling gem of a comic convention. Does it have media guests? Yes. Is the Vendor room chock full of sparklies representing most any branch of fandom? Yes. Are there panels? Yes. So, what makes it different?

Lemme ‘splain. No, wait, that would take too long. Lemme sum up.

In the grand scheme of growing Cons, TBCC is relatively young. It has grown from the back rooms of small hotels into taking over the Tampa Bay Convention Center. Overall attendance is nearing the 40k mark. The torrential storms kept some of the crowds away this year, but we still sold a ton of books at our table in the Vendor room. Excited murmurs from the other purveyors of cool goodies proved they had a successful weekend too.

What really excites me about this Con is the growing writers’ community. We saw that growth clearly from last year to this one. As a writer and panel attending/moderating/participating enthusiast, the sheer number of panel attendees increased dramatically. Last year, my author partners (Tracy Akers, Maria DeVivo, and Dora Machado) and I submitted the first writing panel topics ever to the TBCC organizers. They gave us a chance, allowing us to hold four panels in small rooms. All were well attended, maybe 50-60 folks in each, and the feedback was stellar.

Four more panels were approved this year, only this time they booked us in a room that seated 200 people. And we needed it. One panel, “So you want to be a writer?” was a standing-room only extravaganza of Awesome. Sweet! The questions ranged from craft, to how to get published, to various aspects of the business of being a professional writer. We ran out of time, but could have gone on for another hour or two. The atmosphere in that room crackled with creative power. Man, what a day, what a Con. I can’t wait for next year.

We noticed more writers with tables in the Vendor room and several new writing panels on the schedule. But there’s always room for more. Atlanta’s DragonCon has its writing track buried in the basement of one of its monstrous hotels. Orlando’s MegaCon sports several writing panels. And Tampa, well, let’s see how many we can get approved for next year. We are growing the writing community and want you to help us out.

So, to all my writer friends out there, come to Tampa Bay Comic Con. Get a table. Sell your books. Participate on panels. Soak up the creative atmosphere. And sweat. Yeah, it’s hot. The high-powered AC will keep you cool and comfy inside, but the summer swelter will mug you when you step outside. Still, what’s a little sweat when you get the chance to talk writing with thousands of your closest new friends?

Here are the deets for Tampa Bay Comic Con:

When: August 5-7

Where: Tampa Bay Convention Center

Cost: Attendee – 60$ for all three days

Not sure about the cost of a table in Artist Alley or a booth.

Link: Tampa Bay Comic Con

Travelling in Packs: Partnering with Multiple Authors at Cons

Hernecroe I am, the lone wolf…er…author in one of my happy places—a small local Con. Surrounded by my Knight of Flame regalia, I’m ready to greet the horde of potential readers. I’m a newbie though, with only a small number of titles to my name. Still, I love to get out there and mix it up with fandom and authors.

Regardless of how awesome the cover and how friendly my smile, there is a sameness to the display, a lack of variety. Some readers will be drawn to Develor Quinteele’s intensity on the banner behind me, others not so much. And, before I’ve had a chance to talk about the story, to tell them it’s like King Arthur meets Agents of Shield, they’re gone. Poof. A missed opportunity.

I don’t like missed opportunities.

I’m writing, more titles are coming, but I cannot change the laws of physics or of time. For now, I’ve got what I got. But that doesn’t mean I have to suck it up and deal with those missed opportunities. Nuh-uh. Ain’t gonna do it.

I’m fortunate to count several local authors among my close friends. We trust each other. Our titles span several Fantasy readerships (YA, Contempory, Urban, Epic, Dark). And, most important of all, we enjoy spending time together talking about our craft with anyone who’ll listen. As it turns out, they like Cons.

See where this is going?


We banded together, growing a one-author army to three and displaying eight titles along with corresponding marketing swag instead of just mine. More genre variety equals more interest, more readers at the table, more chances to talk about our stories. And, yes, it leads to more sales. We (Maria DeVivo, Dora Machado, and I) know the bottom line is to match the reader with the right book at the right time. We are not in competition. There are plenty of readers to go around. We discuss and sell each other’s books with equal zeal. We want happy readers. Happy readers become fans. Happy readers write reviews. Happy readers talk about the really cool book they just read and about the time they met the author at the Con.

It’s all about scale. I did the same thing as a lone wolf author—talked, sold, created happy readers—but in much smaller numbers. By having a table with author partners, I sell on average three to four times as many books as going it alone. Again, variety piques interest, which sparks more visits to your table/booth, which delivers the chance to make a reader’s day. Take it.

To see this approach done to perfection on a much bigger scale, check out the WordFire Press booth at most major Cons.

While I’ve focused on generating more interest by partnering with authors, there are additional benefits to sitting at a Con for hours with a fellow creative individual. Think of the ideas, think of the potential for future joint-projects, think of the opportunity to have someone watch your table so you can go to the bathroom. Don’t underestimate the power of that last point. Whew!

In addition to building variety to attract interest, there are two key points to take away from this post. The author partnering approach will only work if we live by the number one rule in the Universe—don’t be a jerk. Be nice to everyone. There is no downside to being nice and a tremendous upside. The other is that we are not in competition. There are plenty of readers to go around. Let’s introduce them to our stories.

Hell in an Elevator

A guest post by Scott Eder.

When asked to write a post for The Fictorians on the “stranger than fiction” theme, I paused before accepting. Off the top of my head, I couldn’t think of an incident in recent memory that would qualify, but I love The Fictorians blog and figured I’d come up with something. Instead, something came up with me.

Fake Aladdin had to go, or at least shut his mouth. Hell, he was the reason we were stuck in the first place. I knew the downtown hotels were packed during DragonCon, but geez. I can handle a crowded elevator, but this?

I’d grabbed an elevator up from the nineteenth floor thinking it would top out, and I’d be set for the ride back down to the lobby. Claiming a spot on any of the vertically moving conveyances provided a challenge, so I grabbed one when I could. Easy peasy.

Freakin’ Aladdin slid aboard on the twentieth floor in a flash of purple silk, baggy pants, and goofy grin, trailing a crew of Agribah rejects—a sleepy-eyed, barely dressed ninja with iridescent lip gloss, a Tom-Baker era Dr. Who trailing a long scarf, and his companion, a red shirt wearing Starfleet officer. The red shirt should have been my clue to exit, but I wasn’t attuned to the signs.

In my opinion, the elevator was full. We had a little room to move without intruding upon our neighbor’s personal space. A few of us had forgone costumes, but the majority represented the universe of sci-fi/fantasy fandom. Pressed against the elevator’s glass wall behind me, another Whovian, this one bearing a striking resemblance to David Tennant, and his Rose Tyler matched well. Orcs, knights, Star Wars, and Game of Thrones characters stood shoulder to shoulder, passing flasks and laughing. So what if the temperature started to climb? We wouldn’t be on here long enough for it to become a problem. No worries.

We stopped on eighteen. The doors slid open. Aladdin beckoned to the folks waiting outside, and in a loud voice invited them to join us. Smiling, those waiting shrugged and pushed inside.

We stopped on seventeen. The doors slid open. Aladdin beckoned to the folks waiting outside, and in a loud voice invited them to join us. With a shrug, more people joined the “fun.” We were full before, but now we were packed. The mass of humanity crushed the short, lithe ninja against my side. Her diminutive world had narrowed to elbows and armpits. Poor thing. I wanted to throttle the street rat for being too affable, but the press of the other characters locked my arms at my sides.

The heat rose, and so did the stink.

We stopped on sixteen. The doors slid open. Aladdin beckoned to the folks waiting outside, and in a loud voice invited them to join us. Those waiting eyed the dense crowd, and backed away. Thank goodness.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, the same thing. At every stop, Aladdin did his thing. Nobody took him up on his offer again until the eighth floor. The doors opened on a pair of voluptuous young girls with flowing hair and too-tight corsets jacking up (and almost out) their ample breasts. The guys near the doors sucked in their guts. The ladies squeezed in, and the doors closed.

We dropped four feet, and the doors burst open then quickly closed again as we jerked to a stop. Dead on the vine.

Freakin’ Aladdin.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Voices grew louder. Tempers flared. Sweat streaked down my face. Bodies crushed against me. The poor little ninja against my chest wilted, having trouble catching her breath. The woman near the doors mashed the emergency call button again and again and again. No response. Security guards lined the balcony of the eighth floor. A few talked through handsets, while others took pictures with their cell phones. Other guests followed the situation as we became the hit of the moment.

Thirty minutes. Bodies shifted an inch so the ninja could breathe. Grumbles. Accusations. Damn, it was hot.

The doors popped open, letting in a cool, fresh breeze, and a grim-faced hotel representative poked in his head. He said that the elevator would not budge even after several restarts. They were going to have to lift us out by hand.

Really? By hand? I thought this crap only happened in the movies. Damn.

One by one, a crew of the hotel staff unceremoniously hauled us out on our butts. Nice. What a great way to start the Con.

Guest Writer Bio:
Since he was a kid, Scott wanted to be an author. Through the years, fantastic tales of nobility and strife, honor, and chaos dominated his thoughts. After twenty years mired in the corporate machine, he broke free to bring those stories to life. Scott lives with his wife and two children on the west coast of Florida. Check out Knight of Flame on Scott’s website.