This work contains several bad words not suitable for people who don't like bad words. If you're one of those people, you can't say you weren't warned.

A shareware novel is like any other novel you might read, except that instead of buying the novel first, and deciding after reading it whether it's worth what you paid for it, you read this novel first, and then decide if you want to pay me for having had the (let's hope) pleasure of reading it. It's that simple.

The existence of the World Wide Web and the ability to download make this method possible — neither I nor a publisher had to spend thousands of dollars printing up paper version in the hopes of getting you to buy it. My costs (minus the time and effort spent writing the novel, of course) is minimal: Simply the time I spent formatting this novel, and the other essays/intros/etc. that go with it. My reasons for going this route are explained in depth in "Dr. Impatient, or, How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Publishing My Novel Online," at the back of the book. For now, let's just say the benefit for you is that I don't start in a financial hole — and this allows me to let you pay what you think this novel is worth.

You might decide, for whatever reason, that there's no need to pay me anything for it. That's your decision to make — you might not like it, or you might decide the entertainment value was too low, or you might just be one of those folks who believe you shouldn't pay for anything that you don't absolutely have to pay for. Well, fair enough; by putting this novel out there in this form, that's the risk I take.

But if you do enjoy the novel, and it's something you could possibly see buying in a book store, or recommending to friends, I hope that you'll make the effort to send along a little something. My costs of production are indeed minimal, but like most creative people, I do also appreciate the peculiar type of applause that comes in the form of cash money. I'm not ashamed to say it — after all, I have a mortgage, a child, a dog, and a truly insane computer videogame habit. All of these must be fed. Frequently.

If you're wondering how much to send, I'll make it easy for you:

$1.

Yup, that's it. One dollar. I figure one dollar is an amount almost everyone can afford to send (you'll have to pitch in an additional 33 cents for a stamp, of course). One dollar is both rather substantially less than you'd pay for a science fiction novel in a bookstore (where paperbacks now average upwards of $6 dollars, and hardbacks hover around $25) and rather substantially more than I'd get in royalties from a paperback publisher — the standard royalty rate is 7 to 12 percent, which translates (on a $6 paperback) to 42 to 72 cents per book. So everyone is happy. Yes, there's a risk you won't pay even a dollar. But if it were in the stores, and you had to buy it first, there's a risk you wouldn't buy it at all (if you could find it at all). I figure the risk is about equal. At least this way you have a chance to give the novel a fair shake without having a salesperson pressuring you to buy the book, or to get out of the store because they're closing down for the day.

(If you're not in the United States, send along the equivalent to $1. I'm sure my bank will love getting funds of all nationalities. Might as well make the tellers work for their pay!)

Now, mind you, if you want to send more than $1, by all means, please do. Baby needs a college education.

If you like the novel, but don't feel like or honestly can't afford sending along a dollar, do this for me instead: Tell your friends about the novel. Send them the Web site address. Download the novel and share it with your friends and other people you know. I want people to find and hopefully enjoy this novel — I think it's pretty good, and something most science fiction fans will get a kick out of. I'll be honest, I hope you'll tell your friends and send me a dollar. But ultimately it's up to you, the reader (ultimately, it's always up to you, the reader. I just recognize it).

Here's where to send payment — checks are always the safest way to go, though I suppose if you send a buck through the mail, it's not like you're out a bundle if it suddenly gets lost. Just wrap it in a sheet of paper to confuse the sticky-fingered postal types:

John Scalzi

310 Newman Court

Sterling, Va.

20164

USA

Put "re: Agent to the Stars" in the bottom left corner so I know what it's about.

I hope you enjoy reading Agent to the Stars as much as I did writing it. Thanks for dropping by — I look forward to hearing your comments (and getting your mail!) soon.

My acknowledgments are primarily to those friends of mine who willfully served as beta testers for Agent to the Stars, reading it in its first rough form, and sending me back notes on grammar errors, plot inconsistencies, factual boo-boos, and stylistic faux pas. Any that remain are of course my fault entirely; you should have seen what it looked like before they got to it. So hats off to Stephen Bennett, Mykal Burns, Jill Burnett Hart, Daniel Mainz and Kevin Stampfl.

Also a special thanks to Pam Wallace, my screenwriting friend, whose professional assessment of the novel and its publishing chances ("It's great. You'll never sell it") in many ways precipitated its publication in this form. Pam has always been supportive of my writing efforts, and that means a lot, since she is a good friend, a great writer, and has an Oscar to boot. Polymathic author and science fiction writer W.T. Quick gave me an assist early on; his efforts on the part of someone he only casually knew were (and are) greatly appreciated.

Why not thank a teacher? Keith Johnson, John Heyes, and Larry McMillin all encouraged me in different ways to write, and imagine I could write. Good teachers mean a great deal; it's a damned shame there aren't more of them. Jackie Kahn was not a teacher in a classroom, but exposed me to writing, thinking and imagination, and encouraged me in my writing with her own. She is a great friend, and a great friend to my writing.

My dedications are to three women.

To Regan Avery, who served as my frontline editor, and was in fact the only person who read the book previous to its completion. In many ways, this was like giving someone a knife and allowing them to cut you without anesthesia. Regan's deft eye and editorial observations made this process easy — she returned my trust and made this book better. I was exceptionally fortunate to have Regan as an editor, and am exceptionally fortunate to have her as a friend.

To Kristine Scalzi, my wife, who tolerates me clacking away on the computer when she really wants me to get off the damned thing and pay attention to her (well, tolerates it up to a point). Krissy knows better than anyone whether something I've written is worth reading. When she told me she liked this novel, that was when I actually knew it was good enough. I love her more than anything, and I'm glad beyond words she loves me.

To Athena Marie Scalzi, my daughter, who is a week shy of three months old as I write this. Because I love her more than anything, too. She's my first child, this is my first novel. You can see the link there.