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I would like, if I may, to formally and officially pimp the following product:
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/kobold-ecologies-vol-1/6947927
… which contains writing by me, long-time friend Matthew Banach, and eight other incredibly talented and good-looking writers.

Oh, and also some really, really great art by even BETTER-looking people.  Especially that sexy, sexy Hugo Solis.

Point is: the book, beyond physically being awesome, is also something of a dream come true: I’ve loved the Ecologies articles from Dragon Magazine since before I even remember playing D&D, back in that nebulous time-out-of-time when I was merely a fan-boy gushing over the fluff and marveling at the esoteric crunch, dizzy with the idea of actually playing with such an arcane thing – not even yet ready to roll a d20 with a cadre of like-minded nerd-lings.  Getting to actually sit down and crank out an Ecology or two, especially with a friend like Matt, and especially for a company as awesome as Wolfgang Baur’s Open Design, is amazing.

But this project represents something bigger still: since the surreal moment of coming to a point in my odd & meandering existence wherein people will actually pay me for my ramblings, which is still really weird to contemplate and even weirder to write down, the vast majority of my paid (or, in many cases, potentially-but-not-actually-paid) projects have been assigned.  Assigned by awesome and dorky people, obviously, since the faceless, monolithic bureaucrats who traditionally hand down shitty and boring busy-work to numb office drones probably don’t last long in a free-wheeling, grubby and heart-felt enterprise like the small-press, 3rd-party role-playing game industry (assuming that such terrible people would ever be attracted to such an endeavor in the first place), but assigned none the less.

This project represents the first time that I have completed the following process:

1. – Come up with a crazy-awesome idea.

2. – Sent a letter outlining that crazy-awesome idea to the head of a publishing company.

3. – Received a response from said publisher, explicitily telling me to go for it.

4. – Written exactly whatever the damn hell I felt like.

5. – Submitted the work, cashed a paycheck and subsequenty purchased a copy of the work in print.

… and people ask me if I’m addicted.  Yes.  Yes, I am.