Write About What You Know.

I have been writing since I was fourteen. Grew up with a reading disability. Hated books. Did all I could to never read. In seventh grade when our teacher assigned S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders, everything changed.

I not only became an avid reader from that point on, but since have worked hard at writing. Born a storyteller, it only made sense that I work to get my ideas down on paper. My first writing instrument was a Sears electric typewriter. Uh-huh. I remember saving money up to buy it, and cringing everytime the ribbon (with corrective white tape) ran out.

I spent hours in my room pounding out stories.

My first real short story, I Made It, was published when I was a freshman in the Cardinal Mooney annual literary magazine. (I have copies stored away). You write about what you know. My parents never had much money. They worked hard. Just never seemed to catch up. I really wanted to go to Cardinal Mooney High School. I got a job at the end of eighth grade, and worked all summer to pay the tuition. My job was as a busboy at a party house. The Diplomat.

Well. I was hired as a busboy. But what happened was, new hires had to "earn" the right to bus tables. I worked weekend mornings. Cleaned up after parties the nights before. Vacuuming, setting tables, cleaning bathrooms, sweeping and mopping floors. Soon, I worked nights, too. Washing dishes, scrubbing pots and pans. And eventually, I worked parties.

My first day of work was a Saturday. Like any business, communication was terrible. When hired I was told I needed to wear black dress pants, black shoes, a black vest and a black bow-tie, as well as a white dress shirt. Standard busboy attire, right?

So, Saturday morning I showed up to work all decked out in new duds. The "head" busboy, Gary, looked at me, shook his head, and said, "Lose the tie." I spent the next seven hours breaking my back cleaning party rooms--wondering how everyone else there knew to wear jeans and T-shirts.

And this ... this true-story became my first published piece. It told the tale of how I went from showing up to work ill-dressed, to getting the call one night to come in (on a day off) and to bring my bus-clothes.

I'd made it.

Key point of the blog, write about what you know. Remember, fiction still needs to be factual!

Ta-ta!

Thomas Phillips,
Author of The Molech Prophecy

First Book Signing for The Molech Prophecy (7/11/08)

Looking back to when I first signed a contract for The Molech Prophecy with Whitaker House (September 2007), it felt like July 2008 would never get here.

Fortunately, editors and in-house publicists, kept me busy through the months.
The work that goes on behind the scenes prior to the release of a novel is, at times, a bit overwhelming. I enjoyed every minute of it, from proofing galleys, soliciting reviews and endorsement blurbs, to coordinating a wide variety of interviews.

It was mid-May when I set up my first book signing for The Molech Prophecy. It’s hard to believe that someone could have a “relationship” with a place, but I am most fond of the Barnes & Noble in The Mall at Greece Ridge Center, in Rochester, NY. There was no question in my mind that my first signing would be held in that store.

The store, or should I say Rebecca—the store’s events coordinator, was thrilled to hold the launch release for The Molech Prophecy.

Despite sending out invites, promoting the signing on sites like Myspace and Shoutlife, and begging friends and family to show, I worried the night before and the day of the signing. (Book signings in the summer are tougher than when held in fall, or winter months—why? Because people are busy. Vacationing. At the Beach. They want to be outside. Soon enough inclement and unpredictable weather will nearly paralyze the western New York area for six months …)
Although my signing started at 7:00 PM that Friday night, I arrived around 6:00. I’m a bit neurotic that way. (Like if I go to the movies and the coming attractions have already started—I have to resist demanding my money back and walking out …).

By 6:30, a few people had arrived. I signed a copy or two, and had a time to spend talking with people. And all the while, my stomach twisted into knots. Where was everyone else? Wasn’t anyone else going to show? I’d casually glance at my watch. 6:33. The event didn’t even start—officially—for another 27 minutes … but still …

At 6:45, my stomach twisted in the opposite direction. I saw people I recognized coming in through the street-entrance doors, stepping out of aisles, coming around corners. The quiet events area’s library-like silence shattered. A line formed.

My ten year old daughter was charged with the responsibility of working as my personal photographer. I sat at the table—which was ridiculous. As each person came up for a copy of the book, I stood, hugged and kissed them. Some people I knew (and some I did not—but it didn’t matter, lol).

I saw people from work, family, friends, Myspace friends, strangers … and two hours later, my hand numb, my gel pen out of ink, I sat back in the wood chair and took a moment to catch my breath.

The day had been more successful than I’d hoped. I felt so blessed that people came to share in my excitement about having a novel published. Blessed.

Please visit either my Myspace site, or Shoutlife site to see a slide show of photos taken by my daughter at the signing.

God bless,

Thomas