James Blaylock Knows My Name
The story of James P. Blaylock and his quote for my book is crazy. Not literally crazy, but close enough that you don’t need to correct me with “figuratively”. It’s almost, but not quite, the kind of story where at the end you close with “. . . and a star was born.”
In July of 2017, I had finished a book. This was not my first book. Technically, it was somewhere around my twelfth or thirteenth. Three of those books — urban fantasy / angelpunk — were already released to the wild and doing nicely. This was not an urban fantasy book. It was a steampunk book. I was not about to give it to my current publisher — Maya. We were in the midst of a messy termination. (More on that in a later article.)
I went hunting for a new publisher. I reached out to fellow writer, and former WildChild Publishing Alum, Jenn Nixon.
Jenn — who has since become my marketing guru, master of newsletters and empress of the swap — was gracious enough to reach out to some publishers she knew and see if they’d be interested. She gave me a warm introduction to a publisher, and I thanked her and sent off my query package.
The response was immediate, but strange. The publisher wasn’t taking any new projects for the rest of the year. She’d keep me in mind, but that was all.
I looped back around with Jenn who agreed it was odd, but she had another publisher that I might click with — Maer Wilson who ran Ellysian Press. Again, Jenn gave me a warm introduction, and in September of 2017, I sent out a query letter. A little over a week later, I received a response for the full manuscript. A month later, in October, I received a contract offer from Ellysian Press and I was off and running.
Because of my previous publisher, I was still gunshy. Apprehensive might have been a better term. I immediately started looking for classic red flags. First, I asked Maer if she’d be willing to take a quick phone, just a meet-and-greet, to see if we actually clicked and could work together. Maya had resisted any attempts at an actual phone conversation, so I was braced for impact.
Maybe this was just how publishers did things?
Maer readily agreed. What was supposed to be a ten-minute conversation went on for an hour. It would have gone on longer, but I had to end it to go pick up my boys. Maer was amazing. She’d known — been friends with — Philip K. Dick. Not just friendly, or acquainted, but knew him well enough to write a book about him! She rattled off a bunch of other author names, names I was familiar with, as if they came over to barbeques and whatnot! She had been in the industry for a long time and was very upbeat — complimentary even — about my writing.
What confused me for a little while was when she talked about getting “Jim to give us a quote.” She said Jim like I should know who he was. Jim who? I searched the dusty archives of my mind for anyone I knew named Jim, but couldn’t figure out what the connection between my friends and acquaintances and the world of cover quotes.
I finally broke down and asked.
“Oh,” Maer said. “Jim Blaylock.”
Naw. Couldn’t be.
“Not James Blaylock?” I asked.
“Yep. I call him Jim.”
She calls him Jim.
She calls him JIM!
Maer warned me, out of the gate, and repeatedly thereafter, that Jim (can I call him Jim?) is always very busy and usually doesn’t give quotes. She believed in my book enough that she wanted to give it a shot, but I had to stay quiet about it. I couldn’t tell anyone we were even approaching James Blaylock. I honestly figured he would reject the request out of hand, being too busy, or coming from a small press author, or ya know, pick a reason out of a hat.
Imposter syndrome at its finest.
This was fine with me. Getting a quote for a book from a well-known author is no easy trick unless your name is King or Rowling. Getting a quote for a steampunk book by a first-time steampunk author from essentially the father of modern steampunk seemed like an impossible task.
Months went by. Maer and I worked very hard on the manuscript. Cover art came along. More revisions. More revisions. (I actually love revising and the process — more on that in another article too!)
Finally, Maer gave me a note: “Jim has agreed to read the book.”
Well, I was floored. Even if he didn’t provide a quote, the fact that my words were in James Blaylock’s hands, that he was reading my story, was quite heady stuff. James (yep, can’t call him Jim) Blaylock was one of the reasons I wanted to get into writing — specifically into steampunk — in the first place. I thought there might be hope that a quote would come, but even if it didn’t, Maer had taken me a long way. James Blaylock might never get past my prologue, but he would see it.
He’d know it existed.
A few weeks passed and Maer pinged me. Just a simple: “We heard from Jim.” That’s it. I stared at the words for a minute or two, trying to wrap my head around how deep the rejection would cut. He’s obviously hated the work. I was no good. I took some deep breaths. I’d been disappointed before. I’d seen “The Phantom Menace” on opening weekend.
Worse, what if he HATED the book!?
“Umm . . .” was all I managed back.
“You want the good news or the better news?” Maer asked.
I could have killed her.
He hadn’t just read the book. He’d liked it. He’s agree to provide a quote. He’d written a very nice statement, and also attached a personal note to Maer about the book.
James P. THE FATHER OF FREAMING STEAMPUNK Blaylock liked my book and wanted to put his words on it!
I didn’t drive home — I flew. I never once touched the ground. Magical things must have happened, because there was no traffic that I can remember. I kept giggling from time to time. You couldn’t pry the grin off my face with a crowbar.
Even to this day, I grin and shake my head remembering the story. It’s not exactly one for the ages, but it’s my story, and it’s the one I get to keep. Whatever else happens in life, James P. Blaylock, the father of modern steampunk, knows my name.
