Kevin Lucia

The Woman in Black - A Review

2012-02-05T04:01:00.000-08:00

Going to be doing a lot of these, next few months. One of my graduate classes this semester is "Film & Philosophy", so because I'll be watching lots of movies and reading lots about movies, movie-making, philosophy and the philosophies behind movie-making, I'm going to be in that mode. Might as review the movies I see here on the blog, help sort things out in my head for my presentations and papers this semester.

Anyway, movie reviews are a bit different than book reviews, so if this is rougher than my usual reviews, please forgive me. In any case...

So, here's the official synopsis of "The Woman in Black", starring he of Harry Potter fame, Daniel Radcliffe:

A young lawyer travels to a remote village to organize a recently deceased client's papers, where he discovers the ghost of a scorned woman set on vengeance.

Here's a link to the previews, if you haven't seen it, yet.

Now, here's the rub for me: I'm not a fan of many horror movies. Part of the problem is how far they stretch believability in the main protagonist's reactions to strange, odd things. I mean, how many times can a main character see or hear or experience something strange or frightening, yet still decide to "stick around" where these things are happening?

*SPOILER ALERT*

And, here's where "The Woman in Black" succeeds - in a way that a novel never could, even. Now, give me some lee-way, here. I'm very much a novice when it comes to analyzing film. But generally, unless a movie makes a point of telling something DIRECTLY from a character's strict limited point of view, with narration and voice over to boot - "Memento" comes to mind - even though we see things through different character's perspectives, the camera is in charge, and we experience a movie from a ghostly, third-person omniscient perspective sitting right next to the character, not in the character's head.

And this is where "The Woman in Black" - IMHO - succeeds in spades. For the first forty-five minutes or so, Daniel Radcliffe's character sees very little. Just an odd looking woman in black standing outside this old house, lurking in the woods, and that's all. All the other great stuff happens off the side, in the shadows, just as he's turned his head, closed a door, walked down a hallway. Successfully amping up the dramatic tension for us, the viewers, but not stretching the reality or believability....

...because Kipps (Radcliffe) didn't see it! And therefore, we don't have a lot of those moments early on when he sees tons of weird stuff but dismisses it as the "wind" or notches it up to his "fatigue" or "shadows on the wall." Meanwhile, in an extremely immersive experience, WE are pulled right into the movie, scanning corners and doorways - seemingly innocuous, innocent parts of the setting that are now ALL looming and threatening.

Now, Kipps (Radcliffe) shows up in this weird little village, and we have the classic, requisite sketchy villagers who all mumble in raspy voices, "Dontcha go up thar to Marsh House, sar!"

And of course, Kipps persists anyway....but we're set up nicely with this early on, because he's lectured rather harshly by his boss back at his London law firm that this was his last chance to prove himself and keep his job. He's a widower with a son, mounds of debt is alluded to nicely with a glancing camera shot at a stack of unpaid bills, so he MUST do this job. He's desperate to, in fact, to provide for his son. Good enough motive to pay sketchy, backwards villagers no mind.

And he's a haunted man himself. His wife dead in childbirth, he's primed for a supernatural encounter with haunting visions throughout the movie of his wife ghosting around. So he's mourning, questioning his beliefs about this world and the one beyond, under duress, desperate to do his job. All great ingredients.

One thing occurred to me while viewing this film: a true Gothic tale would be very hard to tell in modern times, because a key element is a sense of isolation. Being cut off from the outside world, unable to communicate and go for help.

Obviously, the setting here is perfect: turn of the century when small villages have no telephone services, the telegraph only runs sporadically, only one person in the whole village owns a car, and the house itself - on a mountainside in the marshes, when high tide washes away the road and effectively cuts our protagonists off from the mainland. Setting this in modern times would require lots more manipulation of the plot to achieve these things, which opens the movie up for more artificiality.

And, the ending. Won't spoil it here, but the resolution is nice. There's no pat answer for stopping "The Woman in Black", but the movie still manages to end in way that gives comfort and release of tension. An excellent film, well-worth the viewing. May even have to go see it again, when it hits the bargain theaters....

Story In Morpheus Tales: The Best Weird Fiction, Volume 1

2012-02-02T04:19:00.000-08:00

Recently I blogged about starting on a blank slate, leaving behind a lot of the misconceptions I'd developed about writing and publishing. Basically "unlearning" all those "do's and don't's" I'd heard for about two years, and had ingrained in myself as hard-line, carved-in-stone rules of getting published. Not to disrespect those who preached those rules to me, because they were giving sound advice with the best of intentions, but I've come to realize I need to follow my own path in publishing, which includes listening to others, but also realizing this is MY writing journey, not theirs.

Faith plays a big part in this journey. Realizing that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I work or write or do the "right things", ultimately, this whole thing is out of my hands, in the hands of Someone Much Bigger Than Me (But that's another blog post for another time).

Case in point: the mantra that horror writers must only sell their short stories for the highest pay, or that submitting to a non-paying market is a waste of time, waste of effort, waste of that story, and even WORSE: a black mark on your record. Because doing so will doom you forever to writing in the ghettos. AND, if you ever do have a story accepted into one of these publications early on, you must forever shun them like skeletons in the closet, or forever face the ridicule of your peers.

THIS IS ONE OF THOSE FALSE ASSUMPTIONS.

I realized this in my talks with the senior acquisitions editor from HarperTeen. She didn't care one WHIT where my short stories had been published, by whom, or for how much. All she cared about was the immediate work, how good IT was, and if it was right for her publishing house.

Interesting.

Now, don't misunderstand. I think all writers should be careful and meticulous and make sure that NOTHING but the best work leaves their hands. This involves OBSESSIVE re-reading and re-writing, having good beta readers who aren't afraid to call "crap" what it is, and a dedication to always improving one's prose.

And, on a personal note, all writers should have goals higher than were they are to strive towards. I've yet to make a professional sale. Someday, I want to crack Apex, Cemetery Dance, and Black Static. When I'm done with this current project, I'm going on a slew of short stories, to practice the craft.

But I'm kinda done with this whole: "If you didn't sell it, it must crap; if the magazine didn't pay for it, it must crap, and the magazine must be crap." Because it DOESN'T pan out. Everything is case-by-case these days. Yeah, there are some short stories I'm a little embarrassed of, that were published in rags (literally) that I don't want to see the light of day.

But "The Sliding" and Morpheus Tales aren't in that category. "The Sliding" is a neat, creepy little story - that's also pretty personal - and Morpheus Tales is a pretty cool little UK magazine that's featured the work of Michael Laimo, Joe D'Lacey, Aaron Poulson and others, which is pretty cool company. So I'm happy to announce the inclusion of my humble little story, "The Sliding" in Morpheus Tales' first Best of Collection, Morpheus Tales: The Best Weird Fiction, Volume 1. To buy, follow the link.

For the first time collected together in one volume, the best weird fiction from Morpheus Tales, the UK's most controversial weird fiction magazine! Only the very best weird fiction has been hand-picked from the Morpheus Tales archives to create this first collected volume of the magazine Christopher Fowler calls "edgy and dark". Featuring fiction by Lyn Cannaday, Robert T. Canipe, Steven Lee Climer, Nickolas Cook, Garon Cockrell, Nick Day, Vic Fortezza, Ken Goldman, Gary Hewitt, Todd Austin Hunt, Michael Laimo, Kevin Lucia, Adrian Ludens, Christian McPhate, Mari Mitchell, Theresa C. Newbill, Aaron A. Polson, Jonathan J. Schlosser, Tommy B. Smith, Alan Spencer, Wayne Summers, Randy Young, Mark Zirbel, Lee Clark Zumpe. Established horror best-sellers rub shoulders with rising stars and newcomers in this diverse collection of short weird fiction.

Can I Admit How Clueless I Am?

2012-01-22T04:10:00.000-08:00

Can I do that? Is that okay?

I started taking my writing "seriously" six years ago. I've read lots of writing memoirs. Attended Cons and Workshops. Worked on my Creative Writing MA. Sought advice from established writers, talked hours of shop with peers, listened earnestly to mentors as they impressed upon me the importance of doing this and not doing that...

And, yes.

Sigh.

I gave advice.

Just because I sold a few shorts stories (and I use the word "sold" kindly. They were semi-pro payment stories in collections). Wrote a novella. Edited a poetry anthology (still in the works) and edited the Halloween issue of Shroud. So I thought I was all that. In the position to give advice.

It's only been the last year or so that I've realized any advice I probably gave was either misguided, misinformed, or flat out wrong. I've been working to divest myself of preconceived notions about lots of things - like digital and POD self-publishing, for example - simply because that was one thing on a list of many things that folks who "knew" better told me "not" to do. I just received Robert Swartwood's Man of Wax. Richard Wright's Cuckoo and Glen Krisch's upcoming Nothing Lasting will be next, because I'm going to confront this self-publishing thing head on: if these three works pass muster (which I have a feeling they will), a re-ordering of my ideas will be in order.

Which doesn't mean I'm giving up traditional publishing. Robert Swartwood himself cautioned in a recent comment here that "just because you CAN self -publish, doesn't mean you SHOULD." It does mean, however, that I need to start from scratch. Throw everything I thought about writing out the window, and start anew with the ONLY two things about writing that I know for sure:

1. I love writing and will never stop
2. I want people to read my writing

Anyway, no more advice. Actually, some advice about what advice not to give, from Nick Mamatas, which sparked this blog. Because other than those above two things, I know NOTHING about this whole thing, anymore.

But that's okay, because those two things are enough.

Phillip Tomasso: Suspense Novelist: On Writing . . . I Suppose

2012-01-21T06:56:00.000-08:00

Phil Tomasso is a kindred spirit to me in many ways. He and I share the same feelings about not personally liking to read the digital format itself, but understanding the necessity of writers taking advantage of this new venue. Anyway, you should follow his blog. You should read his books. His writing is fun, fast, furious, and entertaining. If you're into faith-oriented fiction, you should read his only foray into that venue, The Molech Prophecy, under his pen name Thomas Phillips.

Most of all, Phil is STILL writing. He's suffered some ups and downs in his career, is trying to climb back in the saddle, but at this point, he's motivating by the purest of all motives: the writing itself.

Phillip Tomasso: Suspense Novelist: On Writing . . . I Suppose: I don't know. Been having a rough time with writing. Not the actual writing part. But watching everything change in the publishing world. No...

Trying To Work Out My Digital Age Issues

2012-01-15T08:35:00.000-08:00

Don't know if you've noticed it, but I have some "digital age issues".

I'm not a fan of either the ebook, Kindle, Nook, or any of the other options. In my wrong-headed, irrational way, all I want to read is a BOOK printed on paper. In fact, I can confess to going on a book-buying tear this whole past year in response to an irrational fear that soon enough, book stores and new paper books will die out completely.

Now, that probably won't happen for a real long time. In this case, we can thank POD (print on demand) technology. It gives most folks an option to buy either the digital or print version. BUT, many new authors or even some of my fav's are popping out new digital-only works, which leaves me out of luck, because I just don't want to read anything on an ereader. Call me stubborn, backward, romantic, I really don't care.

If I had a choice between an instant-download, .99 ebook and a $10 used book I had to hunt around for, had to wait to have shipped to me...I'll take the second option, every single time.

Also, I'm not a fan of the new self-publishing craze, which the digital ebook craze has kicked into high-drive, overgear, with an addendum: authors who have proven themselves as good writers, okay. Authors who are trying to get out-of-print works back into circulation, definitely. Not to offend, but unproven authors who've never published anything anywhere else? Sorry, not a fan.

But as a young writer facing his own uncertain publishing future in a publishing world that has become more and more uncertain, I HAVE to face the fact of digital publishing. And doing so doesn't mean giving up on traditional or print publishing. But facing it, examining, seeing if it can be used to expand my reader-base (nearly non-existent as it is)....

Here's the thing.

I don't own either a Nook or Kindle. Doubt I ever will. Maybe I'll get an Ipad someday. But the idea of reading a digital book does nothing for me. So is there something wrong with self-publishing digital content then asking folks to read me in a format I don't prefer myself?

Again: I'm not against being published digitally. I'd like to be available to folks in all formats. Case in point, Shroud is working on getting Hiram Grange e-books ready to go, and that's cool. That way, options are open.

But trying to build a platform on self-published digital content, when I'm not sure how I feel about it myself?

Seems like a conflict of interest. Or cheating. Or something.

Of course, blogs like this make the issue even harder to ignore. Say what you want about Brian Keene, I've come to place that when Brian talks, I believe all young writers should buck up and listen. And I'm listening. And he makes an excellent case, talking about ebooks and authors like Robert Swartwood, who are pioneering their way into the digital self-publishing field.

Cases like Robert's and author Mike Duran's (self-publishing a novella that couldn't find a home anywhere) have really set me to thinking. I don't think I'd ever want to abandon traditional publishing, because somewhere, at some point, I WANT that publisher's seal of approval. I WANT to know that what I've written has passed muster at Abbadon Books, Angry Robot Books, Apex Publications, Medallion Press, Samhain Publishing, Cemetery Dance, Thunderstorm Books.

But maybe...if you've got really good beta readers who are gonna call you out, push you hard to write the best story you can and not crap...if you've got access to professional editors and cover artists to do a bang-up job...maybe a platform could be built....

Except I'm not a fan of digital itself. For example, if he's got Brian Keene's stamp of approval, I'd like to check out Robert Swartwood's work....except it's all digital. Which I have no interest in.

So how could I turn around and ask readers to buy into that format?

I'm probably just turning myself into useless knots over the whole matter. BUT, I'm nearing the end of a "work for hire" project that will take me through the ropes of digital self publishing - both print and Kindle - for the first time. And for a reason, I think (other than the fact I'm getting paid). But the question is, what to do with this new knowledge?

Still figuring it out. Push comes to shove, I'd probably go Mike Duran's route. After intense critique and editing, publish a novella I'd like to see get out there in both print and digital formats. But I'm still figuring that out. Still fighting with myself.

Still wondering if maybe, even if I've got the talent, if I've got the spirit to figure all this out and find my place in publishing...

Semi-Occasional Pimping Of Myself: Where You Can Buy My Writing

2012-01-14T09:29:00.000-08:00

Here's my once in awhile post of "there's some stuff out there with my writing in it". Most of you know this already, but every now and then I get some new blog and Facebook and Twitter followers, so I like to throw this list out there. I talk about writing a lot, I write every day, and yeah...I have had a few things published.

First of all, the fiction. The best thing to pick up is Hiram Grange & The Chosen One, simply because it's the best example of whatever it is I do. Definitely horror/adventure/dark fantasy, and to date, what I consider my best work (my most recent stuff has been accepted, but not published as of yet). Here's a synopsis:

Hiram Grange doesn’t believe in fate. He makes his own destiny. That’s a good thing, because Queen Mab of Faerie has foreseen the destruction of the world, and as usual… it’s all Hiram’s fault. He must choose: kill an innocent girl and save the universe… or rescue her and watch all else burn. Just another day on the job for Hiram Grange.

So there's tentacled, Lovecraftian horrors; maggots, faeries, and a girl in peril. And lots of explosions, too. Here's my favorite blurb:

Brilliantly paced and with very few moments for the reader to stop and catch their breath, Hiram Grange and the Chosen One is an adrenaline drenched jaunt through the realms of horror, fantasy and dark humor. Violence and gore abound, presented expertly by Lucia in a way that not only shows his raw talent, but the ruggedness of Hiram’s character as well. - Apex Publications

I have some free-reads, too. Check those out, and share.

The rest of my short fiction is here. I'd say the best of those stories (again, there are some good ones waiting in the wings) is "Lonely Places", published in the third edition of The Midnight Diner.

I've done my time as editor. One of those projects is still in the waiting, but one you can get now is Shroud Magazine's 10th issue, The Halloween Special. Packed full of great Halloween fiction and nonfiction.

Now, I've written some nonfiction, also....though I haven't seen any of that published in awhile. Oddly enough, it's all fallen into the inspirational market. (a study in contrasts, am I). Anyway, these are stories about my family: our life, faith, and some of the trials we've faced raising a child with autism. They're not preachy, in any way. Just about how faith has worked in our lives.

And there you have it. Filled my self-pimping quota for a few more months, at least....

Post Run Blog #1

2012-01-11T04:39:00.000-08:00

I'm back running again. Was running pretty frequently about a year ago, until a variety of things forced me to quit for awhile. But, starting today, I'm back on the horse, running at least once or twice a week.

And I love it. Which is ironic, because I've got bad feet. Collapsed arches. And I feel a moderate amount of pain every single day when I walk. Thing is, my feet have hurt since high school.

Through four years of football, basketball and track. And through four years of college basketball. And then through...how many?....ten years of pickup basketball, men's leagues, mowing the lawn, etc.

And I'm used to it. Hurting feet means working out. Being in shape. Active and fit, and running.

And I love it.

Not sure if this healthy or not. But the pain is always there, and I just deal.

Because I've come to love running.

In our darkened high school gym. Jamming to the tunes. Shadow-boxing every other lap. Not kidding myself, won't be entering any marathon's any time soon. I run to keep in shape, but also to zone-out, to try and beat down all the stuff brewing inside me that needs beating down.

It can be a spiritual experience. So I'm hoping to start a series of post-running blogs. As everything around here, we'll throw that against the wall and see if it sticks.

Today was my first day back running in over a year. 20 laps, no stopping, a wind-down walk lap at the end, and then a "gut-check" sprint lap. Again, I'm not kidding myself. Not a marathon runner, here. But halfway through, I sorta lost count how many laps I'd run. And didn't feel like stopping any time soon.

That's never a bad thing...

Where's my voice?

2012-01-10T06:12:00.000-08:00

Home with Madi today because she's got a nasty cold - but otherwise fine - so taking the moment to blog. BUT, I had to opt out of the blog simmering on my head. Consisted mostly of ranting and complaining and whining about stuff I've already complained about before.

And I didn't feel like going there. So I checked out, whipped up some homemade blueberry pancakes (made the mix from scratch, 'cause that's how we roll around here), doused them in maple syrup, demolished my new diet in about thirty minutes, but came out a lot sweeter in the end.

And hit someone's else blog that really highlights what I believe is my greatest hurdle as a writer, what I believe separates the men from the boys, also determines what I'll read and what I won't.

And that's voice.

This is especially pertinent when it comes to my short stories. Technically, I believe they're adequate. Products of sound writing.

Yeah.

Right.

And how many folks want to read adequate stories, anyway? I know I don't. That's why I very rarely - no offense intended - read work from folks near my level. I'm an adequate writer. I know some decent rules, can craft adequate sentences and paragraphs and maybe even a "technically sound" story.

But I'm struggling for my voice. And I'm not gonna get that by reading work that's adequate like my own. I'm only going to get it - IF I get it at all - by reading work with VOICE. Voices of ALL KINDS. Also, I've turned down a few solicitations lately - which aren't guarantees but at least more-open-than-usual-doors - because even if I'm not sure what my voice is going to be, I knew those submission calls held NO interest for me at all, and I'm guessing just weren't my "voice". Of course, maybe if I knew what my voice was, I still could've written stories for them in my voice, but seeing as how I'm still struggling with it....

Hiram Grange came closest to my own personal voice. But, I still feel like that was a "cheat" somehow. Because Hiram wasn't my character. Yes, the story was mine but the character wasn't, and it seemed much easier to fill in a pre-determined character with my own take (maybe this will be a good future for me. Media tie-ins, anyone? At this point, I'd kill to write a Supernatural novel. Just sayin).

Anyway. Voice. What the heck is it? Here's a good definition from Chuck Wendig's blog, which I just read:

The writer’s voice is the thing that marks the work as a creation of that writer and that writer only. You read a thing and you say, “This could not have been written by anybody else.” That is voice.

Wow.

That's not intimidating at all.

Here's another good tidbit. A big reason why I've really scaled back my reviews, and something I wish - even though everyone has their own preferences - reviewers and blurbers would be more honest about:

That being said, bad writing is bad writing.

So how do you get voice? This advice is probably the best ever, one of the things I think could potentially be hurt the most by the new "self-publish everything digitally as quick as I can" craze:

1. Voice is a component of practice and maturity.
2. You cannot artificially and prematurely discover your voice.
3. Writers must cultivate patience (or perhaps patience’s rude and grumpy cousin, stubbornness).

You’ll get there. Your voice will come.

And here's something I'm constantly worried about doing myself, especially given my new loves of Norman Patridge and Charlie Grant:

You can try to trick your voice into appearing early, try to overwrite or use purple prose or engage in stylistic flourishes that plum don’t belong.

Honestly, that last part worries me most.

However, THIS is what I hope is happening now:

Eventually we stop miming the style of others, but along the way we still break off parts of other authors and graft them to our own styles. Some parts must be kept. No harm in that — we shouldn’t be upset with our influences. Why turn away from those who got us here? Those whose voices mattered most? As long as their voice does not take over our own, we’re good. It’s okay if we are in part the culmination of other voices. Like I said before: the art is in the arrangement.

This part, I need more of in my writing:

Your voice is also who you are. How you bleed and spit and scream on the page. You are your voice. Your voice is you.

Anyway. That's where I am, now. Trying to develop my voice. And there's only one sure way to do that: keep reading and keep writing.

Luckily, my two favorite things to do....

Moral Heroes With Codes

2012-01-07T04:39:00.000-08:00

This is a re-attempt at a blog that sputtered and failed right before New Year's. Because I was getting too philosophical with it, I think. Anyhow, I've pared my ideas down and am ready to re-approach this from a simplified angle.

I used to be a huge Dean Koontz fan. After a year or so of consuming nothing but Stephen King in an orgy of discovery, I did the same with Koontz. Soon after would be Peter Straub, when I began to mature a little in my reading tastes.

Anyway, one thing I always liked about Koontz: his protagonists possessed solid moral compasses. And that jived with me, because let's be honest: my upbringing in a blue-collar, hard working, lower-middle class Christian, traditional family has made me who I am today. Now, other things have shaped me as well - including a really nasty, dark spread in my college and post-college years, which taught me the endless depths of sympathy and empathy for my fellow human beings - but that solid foundation still lives at the core.

But about four years ago I realized that saying I read and wrote "horror" when I'd only read King, Koontz and Straub (and a smattering of John Saul, but his stuff never really 'took' with me) was somewhat of a misnomer. I began opening my horizons, sampling all the new stuff coming from Leisure Fiction, checking out some small press titles - especially Cemetery Dance - hitting the used book store and Amazon.com pretty hard to stock up on the classic stuff.

And WOW, was it worth it. Discovering new AND old writers, like Robert Dunbar, T. M. Wright, Greg Gifune, Ron Malfi, Charles Grant, Norman Partridge, John Farris, Mary Sangiovanni, Rio Youers, J. N. Williamson, Nate Kenyon, Gary Braunbeck, F. Paul Wilson, Mort Castle, Manley Wade Wellman, Norman Prentiss, Tom Piccirilli, Tim Lebbon, Tom Monteleone, the Whispers and Shadows collections...and way too many more to name...has left an indelible mark upon me.

Somewhere along the line, I left behind Dean Koontz. Stephen King, too, although I still periodically hit him (I LOVED Duma Key.) But Koontz had become "passe", according to lots of sources. On message boards, in other writers' opinions and in Amazon reviews, I saw - and maybe I guess believed - the following, that Dean Koontz had:

1. sold out, writing only for money now
2. lost his edge, and was now too preachy
3. wrote unrealistic characters who were too black and white, too GOOD and too EVIL
4. was a formulaic writer who hadn't written anything new in awhile, just copying the same old format
5. had sold out, writing only for money, now

And yeah, let's be honest - some of Dean's recent novels have felt thin (though, when you've written as much as he has, I think you're allowed a few of those). I'm not sure if it was that, or if I really bought all the above things or not, but for awhile, I veered away from Dean. Wanted to be a "good little protege" (though I don't really have a mentor), and listen to all the advice I'd been given, stay abreast of the trends.

But I've returned to Dean Koontz, realizing how important his writing and themes are to ME, as writer.

Regardless of what anyone thinks of him.

See, entering the publishing world, soaking up all the knowledge you can, taking advice from those wiser than you, is a lot like high school (in more ways than one), in that at the beginning, you soak up EVERY bit of information you possibly can, take all the advice you can, chuck all your preconceptions so you can learn on a blank slate.

But then, as you grow, you reach a point where you follow advice selectively, picking what suits you, meshing what you've been told and taught and advised with who YOU are. Because in the end, every writer has their own, unique, personal journey.

So, I've returned to Dean Koontz. Realized how much I really DO love his idealism, because that is who I am.

I'm an idealist. And proud of it. In as dark a world as we're living in today, I'm not sure how I'd survive if I weren't.   And for me, writing horror doesn't make sense without being an idealist. There are LOTS of reason for writing horror (not the least of which that it's great FUN) but I want to write horror to further enhance the light. I want characters to endure horrors and terrible hardships to further highlight their survival. Maybe not happy endings, because we don't get those in life, do we?

But just one spark of hope. Just one. A glimmer of light, even in the darkness.

So, heroes with moral codes. Dean offers them, in spades. So does F. Paul Wilson in Repairman Jack, although Jack's a little more edged and flawed than some of Dean's characters - but Jack STILL believes in doing the right thing. Even if he's confused about what that is sometimes, it's his internal, moral code.

Norman Partridge's characters are often the same, a little further down the continuum from Koontz, but still...many of his heroes are driven men. With codes. Ironically enough, a good example from Norman's work is another Jack - Jack Badalach, former light-heavyweight champion of the world. Jack's not perfect and of a highly constructed moral fiber like a Koontz character, and maybe a little less driven than Repairman Jack, but he's got a code. Things are done because be believes in something.

Silver John, of Manley Wade Wellman, he's another one. And, ironically, my favorite Brian Keene character, Levi Stolfus. They all believe in something.

And let's be honest, though I don't use this blog as a pulpit: I believe in something. A lot of somethings. So, in the end, my characters are going to believe in something, too. Even if we are living in a largely post-modern world in which everyone questions if "right and wrong" even exist, anymore...because it's just who I am.

It's funny. I see myself developing as a hybrid writer. I really love the style of Charles Grant, T. M. Wright, and Norman Partridge - but I love the themes and characters of Dean Koontz, F. Paul Wilson and, once again, Norman Partridge. Of course, I love the myth-making of Neil Gaiman, too.

Wonder what else I can toss into the stew....

Top 10 Books That Have Most Influenced and Inspired Me. What About You?

2012-01-06T16:35:00.000-08:00

Totally ripping this off from author and blogger Mike Duran. Anyway, it's worthwhile to think of the works that have REALLY impacted me, not only as a writer but as a reader. These aren't my FAVORITES, exactly...but the books that have left their mark on me, long after I finished reading....

1. The Stand, by Stephen King – forever converted me into a Stephen King fan. So epic, the ultimate battle between good and evil, spiritual, and the way he juggled all those main POVs…AMAZING.

2. Boy’s Life, by Robert McCammon – THIS is the book I wanted to cry after. One of those things that convinces me I’ll never be able to write as purely and as beautifully as this.

3. lost boy, lost girl, by Peter Straub – Again, there’s the horror of “monsters” and “demons” and serial killers, then there’s really wrenching stuff like child abuse, etc. Peter Straub was able to deal with something so horrible, yet write so eloquently and beautifully.

4. Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury – so hauntingly poetic and rich. The type of book that MAKES you read passages over and over again, just to savor the language. And, the ULTIMATE Halloween thriller.

5. Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury – one of the very few science fiction/dystopian future novels that have slapped me upside the head, saying: “WAKE UP! This is happening NOW.”

6. Dandelion Wine, by Ray Bradbury – first of all, proving Bradbury’s awesome range. Second, made me wish I’d grown up in the 20′s. And even though I grew up in the 80′s, my summers seemed just like Doug Spaulding’s…

7. To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee – again, one of those PERFECT novels that makes me realize I’ll never write something as wonderful.

And now, I’m going to “cheat” with my last three:

8. The Repairman Jack series, by F. Paul Wilson – I was a huge Roland Deschain fan from Stephen King’s Dark Tower, but Jack is so…real. A regular guy. And he’s an anti-hero with a STRICT, almost old fashioned “code”. Hard to find these days in fiction. And Wilson’s style is so spare, he packs in TONS of action and plot into his stories, and it all reads so very well.

9. The Oxrun Station series, by the late Charles L. Grant – Introduced me to “quiet horror”, and I’ve never before encountered such subtle nuances and artistic prose. And, in a push-back against gore-horror, I love Charles’ respectful, modest restraint and tension. His writing is the first writing I’ve encountered that’s had a tangible affect on my writing.

10 The Foundation and Robot series, by Issac Asimov. I discovered him in high school, and it was the very first HUGE, mega-arc series I’d ever encountered, first one I HAD to have all the books to. And when he managed to tie his Foundation series together with his Robot series, I loved it. Had me primed for the Dark Tower saga long before I ever encountered.

Anyway, that’s it. How about you? What books have inspired and influenced you?

The Importance of Having Friends Who Are Not Involved With Writing or the Publishing Business At All

2011-12-31T03:59:00.000-08:00

So I'm going to play some more basketball this morning.

Which is pretty cool, considering that basketball - along with reading - predates writing as my first love. I was blessed with a moderate amount of success at the high school and small college level, and I can honestly say basketball has been good to me.

To make things even cooler, Abby played high school and college basketball herself, so playing basketball has always been just another bond between us, rather than a wedge that could drive us apart. In fact, as the below pictures attest, basketball was a key component in our wedding:

I played league and pick-up basketball pretty regularly until about two years ago, when I landed my biggest writing gig ever in Hiram Grange, plus it was a year into writing my weekly freelance column for the city paper. Not exactly writing NYT Bestselling novels, but suddenly I had deadlines for publication. For the first time, playing basketball was cutting into writing time, so basketball really started taking the back seat.

Now, two years later, I'm slowly crawling my way back into playing basketball regularly. Not ready for league play, yet (because with kids and the potential for writing deadlines, I don't want the weekly commitment). Anyway, I've returned to the court for two reasons:

1. the 60-70 pounds I lost four years ago are starting to creep back

and, most importantly:

2. I've realized I really, really need friends who have nothing to do with writing or the publishing business at ALL.

Those of us involved in creative endeavors understand how addictive they are. We get sucked into our little world, mimicking the Ultimate Creator with our own little creative attempts. And, on a much more basic level: it's just so cool. Giving birth to stories and worlds and characters, being just as surprised by anyone else at what comes to life under our hands.

It can be addictive. Really addictive.

Too addictive, maybe.

I've blogged a lot about how for me, Cons are restorative. Because being a creator is lonely, at times. It's important to once and awhile reconnect with other creators, talk shop, keep in touch with the market and the business, and just hang with people who love stuff like you do. But I've realized it's JUST AS IMPORTANT, maybe even more so, to stay rooted in the real world, hang out with friends who have nothing to do with writing or publishing, who are rooted in the real world, just like you.

So Thursday, I went to a social gathering - IE, party - with my fellow faculty from school. Granted, we ended up talking a lot of "teacher shop", but still: these folks aren't writers. Not living the "writer life", with no aspirations of doing so. They were just regular folks, some with families, some young families with no kids, some single folks. But regular, non-writing folks.

Today, I'm hitting the court with a friend I've made - yes, another English teacher - at school who's just a "regular guy" like me. Yeah, he's an English teacher, so he's a book and word-nerd like myself, and he plays in a band (saxophone) and he's killer on Guitar Hero. And he played high school basketball and is an assistant for one of the area's high school boys varsity teams, but he's something SEPARATE from the writing industry.

See, I've been fighting to balance between two things:

1. the writing life and all it entails (Cons, the industry, the "pull" of being with writer friends)
2. my family: wife and kids

But I think I've been missing an integral ingredient: friends who are just regular joes like myself, who have nothing to do with writing at all. Because let's be honest, the addictive pull of #1 is SO strong. I need something in the middle of 1 & 2 to even things out.

So I'm off to play basketball. Trying to get back in shape, hanging out with just regular folks.

Of course, I also re-engaged the 3 AM schedule this morning, too.

Cause it's all about balance...

Crossroads: 2011 Retrospective, 2012 Preview

2011-12-29T04:36:00.000-08:00

So I had this big huge blog all typed up - half finished, really - about Dean Koontz, post-modernism/idealism, authorial intrusion, Norman Patridge, and empathetic characters....

And then looked at the thing and thought: "Meh. Who cares?"

I deleted it.

Then, I was going to blog about my 10 or 20 favorite books of 2011. I read almost as much as I write, so I figured my opinions might sorta be somewhat valid.

Then, I saw about twenty OTHER writers doing the same thing on Facebook. Once again, the "Meh" factor kicked in.

And really, it's come down to this: Blog, or write fiction? (because some people will maintain that blogging is writing, and it is...but which is the better use of my time?)

Obviously, I'll choose fiction every time. So what I'm going to do is get myself together, head to the library, and so some writing.

I'm a little down about my "career" - such as it is - lately. But I'm doing my best to keep my chin up, not complain about it a whole lot. And I'm also starting to form - how shall we say - some really negative opinions concerning stuff that's happening in the horror small press lately. Also just trying to let those things go, as annoying as they are. I just hear people saying stuff, then see stuff that completely contradicts what I hear them saying.

But that's human nature. It's like that everywhere - at the workplace, in families, in the business world. Certainly not limited to publishing or the horror genre.

Again, maybe this is a sign. That I should hang it up? Who knows. Even if it is a sign for me to quit, I probably won't listen. I'm stubborn that way. More and more, it's forcing me to realize I'm at a crossroads, here.

One I'm stuck at.

As I see folks I started with two years plunging way ahead of me. See folks I gave advice to two years ago completely outpace me. And here I am, stuck in idle, forced to mull these questions over and over every single day:

What type of writer do I want to be?
Am I really a "horror" writer? Suspense/Supernatural Thriller?Adventure? Dark Fantasy? Does it matter?
Where do I want to concentrate my efforts? The small press? Micro Press? Or really commit myself to insanity, and only aim at the top?
Do Cons really matter? Would my career be any worse off if I never went to another Con, ever?

Please forgive me if this sounds overly whining or complaining. I'm trying not to be that way. Trying very hard to walk the fine line between being honest and saying too much. But, as I stand here and look at 2012 ahead, I can only think of one thing that would keep me writing.

And that's the writing.

The desire to see the finished story.

So that's how I'm going to spend my day, the rest of 2011, and all of 2012. All those questions above? Who knows? I have no answers for those. The only answer to any question I have is this:

Will I ever stop writing?

We'll see....

Doing the Right Thing For Our Boy

2011-12-20T03:45:00.000-08:00

Haven't blogged about Zack lately, mostly because things have run on a really even keel. Not a lot of upheavals to speak of. He has good days - really good days - and days that are rougher than others. Intellectually, there are no issues at all. Zack is developing into a very bright (maybe too bright) little boy.

He's active, very happy and physically strong and healthy (of particular concerns, as severely autistic children often aren't), he's interactive, getting better at socializing all the time, and expresses his needs and desires and wants pretty clearly. His range of expression and vocabulary has grown dramatically, and if it wasn't for his delayed emotional range, on passing interaction, he doesn't seem autistic at all.

But he's still not there, yet. And Abby and I've seen that these past few months, more and more. As I said, on the outside, he looks and appears and acts - on very good days - as if there's nothing seriously wrong with him, maybe just a little immaturity and that's all. And he's so-so-so smart. You just have no idea.

But...something is still missing. He's four. And VERY much a boy (which sometimes makes it a tough call. Is it his autism we're dealing with, or him being a BOY?). But there are still gaps, for lack of a better word. Academically, he thrives.   He literally memorizes just about ANYTHING he hears, sees, or has read to him - in fact, it may not be long before he's reading himself.

But he still doesn't understand things. It's a lot like the really intelligent, brilliant student in school who could memorize every line of all 150 Shakespearean Sonnets, but doesn't understand what any of them mean. We still have to discipline Zack as a two year old, simply because he doesn't comprehend certain topics. Like why it's wrong to hit his sister. If he hits her and we discipline him, he understands - sorta - that if he does it again he'll be disciplined again. But he doesn't "get" that it's wrong and it hurts her.

And other things, especially safety concerns. Thank God we got that fence put in last fall, because even though he's good at staying away from the road because we yell at him about it, he doesn't GET that the road is something to be scared of. In fact, he's not scared of ANYTHING - which, in a way, could be considered good. Of course, it's also part of being a boy, as we've come to understand.

But he's still delayed. By four he shouldn't be able to slide-rule the mysteries of the universe, but he should be approaching a level of self-sufficiency. And, in some ways, he HAS. He's improved so dramatically, there's simply no comparison to how he used to be. But he's still not there.

So we scheduled a meeting with Zack's teachers at the Children's Institute at Binghamton University , because Abby and I have decided to leave him there for Kindergarten and perhaps beyond, instead of having him start public school in the Fall, like we'd originally intended. This was a big thing for Abby and myself, but perhaps even bigger for Abby. Because hey, let's be honest....

We want our kids to be happy. Successful. Healthy. But we also want them to be normal. Accepted. To fit in. And I think that maybe - probably even myself - we had both rationalized it as okay for Zack to get early intervention before KE, but that by then he should be phased out into a "normal" school.

But he's just not ready. And also, we realized that BU's program has been so fantastic, Zack has gained so much ground there...why change what's OBVIOUSLY working? Plus, I've worked as a para-professional in elementary special education. No offense to those folks, but the quality of para-professionals is hit and miss.

Maybe Zack would get a good aide interested in Special Education and autism in particular, but more than likely he'll get a well-meaning but essentially clueless college student hired by the school district, trying to make some extra cash. And school districts send these aides to workshops - I've attended more than a few myself - but it wouldn't be the SAME level of intervention he's receiving at BU, where his aides are currently pursuing degrees and careers in special education at the professional level.

And BU's center has world-renown. Children coming from as a far as SWITZERLAND to receive intervention. And there's YEARS-long waiting lists for placement. It was literally a blessing that we got in. If he had problems in his public school, he'd never be able to get back into BU's program.

Fortunately, BU agreed with us, and were delighted we'd decided to stay the course. So instead of phasing out, we're going to see this through. We'll transition Zack when he's READY, not when we want him to.

It all came down to this: our "needs" as parents versus Zack's needs. And it was really a pretty easy choice, when you get down to brass tacks. Because as parent, that's what you do. Not what you want to, but what the right thing is for your kids. There's really nothing else that matters.

The Importance of A Novel That May Never Be Published

2011-12-18T04:01:00.000-08:00

This has beensomewhat of a common theme around here lately, so if you kinda wannaskip this entry, I don't blame you. If still interested,however...

I'm struck moreand more how important this current project is, not by it'spublishing potential, not by its genre choice (though mash-ups arethe hot thing right now, lots of them being done well and horribly),not because any particular publisher wants it, not because I've gotfolks raving about it (a few of my colleagues liking the bits I poston Facebook don't count as raving), but because of one, simple thing:

I'll beable to write "The End".

And right now,that's the most important thing in the world to me.

HiramGrange & The Chosen Onewas a landmark, in some ways. Writing-wise, it is what it is:the prose is clean, smooth reading, and I think it's a funstory. It was really fun to write. More than one personhas read it and said: "You had fun writing this, I could tell,"most notably (minor pimping of self here) Stoker Award-Winning authorNormanPrentiss (whomyou ALL should read). It got decent reviews, even a few StokerRec's, and I'm proud of it.

But that's notwhy it was so important.

It's important,because it was the first ever long work I actuallyfinished.

And that, myfriends, was huge.

A short historylesson: I once ground away for SIX YEARS on half of a novel. Kept moving things around. Changing the story. Couldn't figureout the plot. Before that, I had written a novel, but even thatwas a 178,000 word first act in an epic space trilogy that I had no idea how to end.

I didn't knowhow to get to "The End". Of anything.

And it waskillingme.

Finally, I threwmy hands into the air, gave up the novel, and for the first timestarted writing short stories and book reviews. Anything thatwas short, had a word count, and I could end.So thenI could actually drafta finished piece, watch it get better. I did really well with thereviews, ended up writing a paid freelance gig for our citynewspaper. Did marginally well with the short stories.

And then cameHiramGrange. Amajor challenge, to write something longer and actually FINISH it. But I was under a time crunch. Had signed a contract. SoI outlined the thing - for the first time ever - and banged that babyout.

I actually wroteThe End. Which, at that moment, felt better than getting published, almost. After Hiram,Ienjoyed another sorta victory with my MA thesis for Creative Writing,wrote a short novel - 50,000 words - and actually wrote 'The End'there, too.

So, I thoughtI'd arrived (again). I'd now crank out novel after novel, startbuilding up a store of them, and no longer spin my wheels. Thatthought in hand, I grabbed my MA thesis, started adding stuff in,ready to write my magnum opus.

A year and halflater?

Nothing.

Grinding mywheels again. Because with all those converging plot-lines -andthe fact I hadn't outlined - I produced 600 pages of chaos. There'sfive hundred good pages in there somewhere, but once again I'd comeup empty.

This could havebeen devastating. Crushing, even. Except that, along the way, Ilearned the biggest reason whythese big novels kept falling flat on their faces.

Because I didn'toutline them. Plain and simple. Let's check the facts I learnedover that period:

1. I outlinedHiramGrange =story finished
2. I outlinedseveral short stories in that time period - finished and sold
3. I outlinedand wrote full synopses for two Teen novels I'd been pitching. I didn't write them, but because of the outlines, am confident I couldwrite them tomorrow.
4. Have sinceoutlined a novella I plan on writing soon as I'm finished with thisproject.
5. I outlinedthis current project, and there's not been one minute of hesitation,and I KNOW I'll finish it.

Ergo, lessonlearned: I outline from now on.

Anyway, when my"magnum opus" ground to a halt, I knew I had to write thisone, and not only because Billy the Kid had suddenly come to life andstarted talking in my ear (that's always a really good sign). But I had to write it because even though it had been turned down atHarperTeen (though the acquisitions editor loved the idea), eventhough I had no other publishers interested, I KNEW I'd finish it, knewI'd write THE END to this one.

Which seems likethe most important thing in the world, right now. A finishedproduct I can draft and polish and rewrite until I like it. That's the most important thing to me, at this very moment.

Almost moreimportant than ever getting it published.

Which is ironic,because I never thought I'd hear myself say that...

A Cold, Hard Truth.....

2011-12-14T00:23:00.000-08:00

....is this: people have been very kind and complimented me on how early I get up every morning and write. They remark on my consistency and dedication, tell me how much they admire that, and because of this, I'm bound to be a success someday. That sounds all nice and everything, but the cold hard truth is this:

That's not necessarily true.

At all.

Because I'm guaranteed nothing in the publishing business, am I? Getting up every day at 3 AM doesn't guarantee that my writing career will continue, or improve. It doesn't guarantee that I'll get better, even. It doesn't guarantee anything except the following things:

1. that I'll write a lot of words in a year
2. that I'll have done my very best

Not being pessimistic or cynical, here, just trying to have an adequate grasp of the facts. See, even though every writer should search out their favorite writer and read their biographies or memories on writing, there's a real danger of filling our heads with their stories, assuming that if we suffer and write and persevere like they did, then we, too, can succeed and be just like them.

And that, of course, is patently false.

See, I'm the sorta person that believes in two things:

1. some things are either meant to be, or they aren't
2. even though writers can learn and improve and become better, I do - even though this may be an unpopular belief - think it's a gift. Some people "have it". Others don't.

I draw my beliefs concerning #2 from my basketball career. Once upon a time, I loved basketball more than anything else. Lived, ate, drank, breathed, slept with basketball. And I worked hard, every single day. And I did enjoy moderate success, fulfilling enough in it's own way at the Junior College and DIII level.

But, no matter how hard I worked, there were two things I'd never get around:

1. I was only 6'3
2. I was kinda slow, couldn't really jump, and was only an average shooter

So it's the same with writing. I've been doing this early morning thing for 5-6 years, and I plan on continuing it for the foreseeable future. And I've made some progress, done a few things. But the cold hard fact of the matter is this: I could very well never see anything published, ever again. And maybe I'm only an average writer and storyteller, and that's all I'll ever be.

And I've faced that fact.

Accepted it.

And I'm still going to get up and write, every day. For now. Will there be a time when I'll have to decide to continue or not? Really, seriously contemplate hanging it up? Possibly.

But not anytime soon.

I'm tired, but....

2011-12-13T00:08:00.000-08:00

...but I'm up. Luckily, I'm in the editing/typing phase, which is much easier to do this early in the morning. I won't have to actually "write" from a blank slate for quite some time, which is good. Got a lot of typing to do before then.

Which is the part of the writing process I like the most, actually. The initial writing is a very ambivalent sort of thing. It's in my head and I have to get it down or I'll go nuts - I have to write SOMETHING every day, or I'll go nuts - but I don't always LIKE what I write. Lots of times, those first handwritten drafts are just meh.

But when I start editing my work, stripping away all the fat and finding the story inside, THAT's when I really get a kick out of it. When I really enjoy what I'm doing, when I really feel like a writer.

Of course, the morning has become "my time" now, period. After getting up this early for about 5 or 6 years, I can't write past 11 AM in the morning. As weird as it sounds, it's gotta be written before then, or it's not happening.

Anyway. Just some tired ramblings before I scarf some food down and get to work....

Books I've Recently Read

2011-12-12T03:11:00.000-08:00

Haven't done this in awhile, but here's a gander at what I've been reading lately, or what I just finished recently. I'll number them 1-6 across and then down, starting with Saguaro Riptide, by Norman Partridge.

1. Saguaro Riptide, by Norman Partridge - I read a review once that said this about Ray Bradbury: "a style often imitated, never duplicated." The same applies to Norm Partridge. Sure, you could try and write tight, mean, compact prose - but would it have the same punch? The same kick? Probably not.

This one is right up there with his best. Smooth and fast and tasty, what's not to love about an ex-heavyweight champion mixing it up with a kung-fu kicking woman sheriff named Wyetta Earp? Throw in a mean, shot-gun toting Elvis impersonator, G. I. Jane and a Muslim hitman, and you've got one heckuva fine tasting noir stew on boil.

2. Headstone City, by Tom Piccirilli. My first Tom Pic novel, and I loved it. Also a nice smooth read, the crime/noir/mobster/supernatural mix was a fine treat. I mean, mobsters gotta have ghosts too, right?

3. Fatal Error: A Repairman Jack Novel, by F. Paul Wilson. Drawing toward the end of this series, and like I was with The Dark Tower (Stephen King), I can't wait to see how it all plays out, but don't want it to end. Jack is drawing closer to the ultimate showdown, and even though the series ends with titles like The Dark at The End and Nightworld, I hope Jack still gets to kick Rasalom's head in.

4. Dark Trail, by Ed Gorman. I've only recently dipped into Westerns - in working on my own Western project - but Ed Gorman has become a new favorite. Easy to read prose that flows and also enjoys moments of subtle lyricism, Ed's wild west is very real. And quick and violent and often full of gunplay, too. This was a Leo Guild novel, a character I've grown fond of.

5. Billy the Kid: Endless Ride. Another Billy the Kid biography, the best I've read so far. I particularly liked how it delved into the Kid's childhood and adolescence. Gave me lots of material to work with.

6. Guild, by Ed Gorman. Ditto on what I already said about Gorman's prose, and a new character for me to follow: bounty hunter Leo Guild. Don't know if he's written any more of these, but I hope so.

On Grad School, My Brush With the NAVY, Finishing Well & Slaying the Dragon...

2011-12-11T04:13:00.000-08:00

A long time ago in a galaxy not so far away, there was a very silly boy who thought he could run away from his problems into the military. He'd just called off his engagement to a girl he knew he shouldn't marry (because they didn't love each other anymore, though neither of them had fully realized it yet), had gotten himself involved in some things he shouldn't have, bombed out of his first teaching job, and turned himself into a financial and spiritual wreck. "The military", he thought, "that's the trick. It'll help me learn discipline. Make me all matured, and stuff."

Luckily, this very silly boy wasn't COMPLETELY silly, so he decided to test the military waters as a reservist, first. For the NAVY. The book work was easy, and this silly boy even found a designation he was interested in - Religious Petty Officer. Not only would he work in the chapel with the chaplains, he'd also work with Marines (because they have no chaplains) and be rated in firearms (because chaplains can't pack heat).

But, reserve life was a bit disheartening. Mostly, it was a bunch of old, out of shape guys sitting around watching John Wayne NAVY movies, or cops looking for easy part-time paychecks. Probably the best part was having lodging and food paid up for the weekend. In the great metropolis of Elmira, NY.

But, after all that, even after surviving and graduating boot-camp (the worst four weeks of his life), as easy as reservist life was, this silly boy ended up failing at that, too, mostly because his reserve center was over an hour away, his car would never start, and he could never make drill. The NAVY eventually decided that even THEY weren't desperate enough to require this silly boy's services any longer.

Anyway, before all that happened, when this silly boy returned from boot-camp, he went right to grad-school, because he dreamed of paying for college with his G. I. Bill. Of course, before leaving for boot-camp, he got into a car accident with an uninsured car, which pretty much wrecked all his finances upon returning. He also returned two weeks late into the semester, behind on his reading and work for his two graduate classes.

This silly boy was young. Inexperienced. Ill-prepared for bombastic, over-bearing graduate professors. And in a really bad place in life.

So he promptly failed his two graduate classes. Did so badly, in such a bad place in his life, he didn't even bother withdrawing. Just stopped going to class, because he literally doubted if he'd ever return to college, ever.

And thus, would this folly ever follow him through his days....

Fast-forward to now. So basically, I've been afraid of this for some time, that those F's would dog me, pull me down. Even through all the A and A- classes, those two F's loomed rather large. And, as I investigated arrangements to finally close off my MA in Creative Writing/English the other day, those two F's popped up their silly selves and waved at me with wide, gap-toothed grins.

So, instead of just taking a Spanish test to fill my foreign language requirement, I have to take two more classes next semester. Even after all those A's, because of those two F's, my GPA stands at a 2.84.

I need a 3.0 to graduate.

Honestly, I'm only annoyed by the money/taking out more loans situation. In some ways, I actually WANT to take classes again. I started my grad degree strong, plowed through it, gritting my teeth, but really peetered out in the end. Fatigued, burned out from juggling school at night, teaching during the day, Zack's then-new autism diagnosis and all it brought AND my own writing aspirations, I really did NOT cross the finish line with gusto. I limped. Heck, I crawled.

So, in some ways, I'm sorta really okay with having to take two more classes. Because I really want to finish well. Go out swinging, knocking it out of the park. The ghosts of my dismal academic failure after my failure in the military still haunt me. For awhile, as the classes passed and the 'As' rolled in, I felt like I'd vanquished those ghosts. But as the fatigue dragged me further down, seemed like I was doing what I always eventually do...bailing out right before the finish line.

But too much rides on this. I'm happy and content at Seton, but I'd like a stab at teaching at either Broome Community or Tompkins-Cortland Community someday, even if only as an adjunct. I'd like to apply as an instructor to Seton Hill someday, for their low-residence MFA in Popular Fiction. I can't do that without my MA.

So it's time to wade back into the fray. Finish well, and slay this dragon. I'm ready, and it's time to get this done.

And, even though I've clearly established the military is NOT for me, I do sorta wish I'd finished well there, too. I look pretty good in uniform, honestly.

I've Got Klout...?

2011-12-09T16:18:00.000-08:00

So, notch another mark in the "ambiguous social networking category" with my Klout page. Several months back, a few friends and colleagues started giving me "klout" - basically like "kudos", I suppose - in a few different categories, the top of which were:

Basically, Klout is supposed to "measure" how much influence a person exerts upon their social network, basically counting up all the "likes" and comments on FB statues, comments to blogs, re-tweets, etc. So basically, my "Klout Influence" is how much impact I have on the social networking interwebz. And, apparently, according to Klout I'm a "specialist":

You may not be a celebrity, but within your area of expertise your opinion is second to none. Your content is likely focused around a specific topic or industry with a focused, highly-engaged audience.

Basically, I blog fairly consistently, about fairly consistent things, and have decent interaction with people who read what I blog. There's even a cool little grid, ranking me alongside other folks considered to be my "colleagues":

I'm right down here in the lower right with authors Mike Duran and Matt Cardin (pretty darn good company) in the Focused/Consistent quadrant.

Once again...what does this all mean? I've linked almost every account I have into Klout, so it can access and "measure" all my social activity...whatever that means. It's pretty low maintenance, however, and it's got "perks" - free stuff you can claim, depending on your "Klout", and I recently got for free a brand new, trade paperback edition of Stephen King's Bag of Bones, so, hey...can't be all bad.

Anyway, here's my Klout page. If you think I have some, go right ahead and nominate me...

Tumbling Around...

2011-12-08T04:23:00.000-08:00

***Edited

So I'm on Tumblr, now. Not sure how I'm going to use it. From my initial poking around, it seems to be a blogging platform with a follow and a update feed like Facebook. Looks to be lots of cool things I could post with Tumblr, but the key is figuring out HOW to use it, exactly.

I gotta be honest. I'm very ambivalent about social networking, blogging, Facebook, Twitter, all the rest. Sometimes, these things are kinda fun. Neat to post and comment and Tweet back and forth. And, taking advantage of social networking seems to be the big "thing" that's expected of writers today. Of course, even though it's expected, I don't know if any research has been conducted as to whether or not it actually impacts sales. Far as I can tell, a writer primarily gains readers because of good writing, good reviews, nominations, things like that.

And that's probably why I have a hard time believing that getting all "uber-connected" on social networks helps gain readers and followers, because far as I'M concerned, I could care a less how much a writer blogs, Tweets, Facebooks, Tumbls, whatever. I care about how WELL they write.

Case in point, two of my favorite writers, Ron Malfi and Norman Partridge. Ron doesn't blog at all. Tweets/Facebooks moderately. But he snags Publishers Weekly reviews like a screech owl ravaging for mice, he's a superb stylist, and his most recent novel, The Floating Staircase (I still love that title; makes me think of a Hardy Boys book) is one of the best I've read this year, and has been recommended for a Stoker Award for Best Novel.

Now, take Norman Partridge. No Facebook or Twitter account. He blogs, but mostly about stuff he loves. Most of the time, he's busy WRITING. And he's doing just fine, isn't he?

Some days, my finger just hovers right over the "delete" button on my Facebook. Sometimes I want to nuke Twitter. I don't, but I just can't help thinking that sometimes, all this stuff takes away from what I should be doing most, as a writer - writing and reading. Even now, typing this blog post, I could've been reading Headstone City, by Tom Piccirilli.

So, given all that, I gotta really figure out WHY I want to use Tumblr. If I can find a real personal use for it, something that's me and not a shallow attempt to network, then I will. Maybe some of my really lame poetry? Maybe photo blogs over the summer? We'll see. Because there's no point in trying to reach an entirely new audience on an entirely new social networking site if I don't have anything worthwhile that I WANT to say....

Striking out on my own...

2011-12-07T04:18:00.000-08:00

So, I'm pretty sure I'll be finishing the current project. It's running along nicely, feels so "good" I've been posting lots of excerpts on Facebook, and I haven't felt this sure of finishing something since Hiram Grange. How do I know I'm probably going to finish it?

Well, for one thing, it's going in "the box".

During Hiram Grange, something felt... different. I knew I would finish it. A lot of the early drafts and false starts I threw away, but the "final" rough, handwritten draft I kept. Because I knew this was the "real deal" (in other words, knew I'd finish it), so I kept the handwritten and then first typed rough draft in a box.

Why? Mostly nostalgia. Or because it's one of my "things". I've no illusions of being popular enough someday that fans will want to buy this stuff off Ebay. Not sure what I think about that practice, honestly, but then, I'm not much of a "collector" so I don't understand that mindset, period. I collect things purely on nostalgic value, and that's it.

So, Hiram Grange went "in the box". That's how I knew I'd finish it. The novel I worked on before this never went "in the box". I kept drafting, redrafting, throwing away, rearranging. But, as you can see from the picture above, this current project is "in the box". Which means, I'll be typing "The End" to this one, I'm pretty sure.

It's a nice feeling.

But different from Hiram Grange, for one big reason.

I have nowhere to send this.

The more I think about it, the more I realize how lucky I was to get a gig like Hiram Grange so early on. Was very freeing for me to KNOW that all I had to do was:

1. finish the story
2. not suck

...and it'd get published. And hey, I got a token advance and everything. Got to enjoy lots of feedback from the publisher. That was very empowering. Really pushed me to my limits, to the point I wrote the first draft in three months, writing nearly 6 hours a day at the library over summer break.

This one, however...is different. Because I've got nowhere to send it. The acquisitions editor at HarperTeen really liked it, but two strikes fell against it:

1. It wasn't really a teen story
2. It didn't sit well with the sales team

And I have queried other publishers. Have a few leads. But for the most part, no one wants this like Shroud wanted Hiram.

But I'm finding, more and more, that I want to finish the story, and that's good enough.

Regardless of whether or not it'll be published.

And that's probably my biggest issue with the new wave of digital self-publishing and self-publishing in general, especially for new writers. Call me an idealist (and you'll be completely spot-on) but isn't that the whole point of writing in the first place? That we have stories in our heads that MUST be written. With no guarantee of them ever being published, but in the end, we MUST write them.

Again, call me an idealist. An elitist. I'm good for it. Got a thick skin, and all. But seems like to me, the whole self-publishing thing - especially if you haven't proven yourself as a writer - cheapens the whole writing process. Is it about publishing whatever you want to, because you're "the boss", maybe not working quite as hard or remaining quite as patient because you know that quick avenue is there, waiting, calling, and tempting?

Or, is it about the passion for a story and storytelling that is ABOVE being published? And yeah, I'll admit - I want to be read as much as the next writer. I want fans. A following. Maybe to make some cash along the way.

But. more and more...I want to be a WRITER. I want to LOVE WRITING.

Whether or not my writing gets published. Because in the end, that's the only reason to push myself so hard. Because I love what I'm doing. And does that mean writers who self-publish don't love what they're doing? Of course not.

But - and no snark intended, because again, what's right for me as a writer isn't right for others - would half of them labor day in, day out, for years...if self-publishing WASN'T such an easy option?

I wonder. All I know, for me...average Joe writer with very little in the way of a following, with very little cachet to separate me from thousands of others swarming the self-publishing wave, I need to love the story and the writing itself. Because, far as I can tell, if I don't love that, then self-publishing will just be a pointless exercise of going through the motions so I can call myself "published".

I'm starting to love this story.

And getting more and more okay with striking out on my own. Maybe someone will publish this. But if not, at this point...I just want to write "The End". And somehow, I think that will be good enough.

A Hiram Grange Thanksgiving...

2011-11-24T00:19:00.000-08:00

I had a really meaningful Thanksgiving post planned, but things have been so busy, I'll probably do it next week. Mostly, it was about being thankful for stuff (gee, really?), but about being thankful for HARD stuff, stuff we don't necessarily like, not just being thankful for easy stuff.

That having been said, before I head down to the BatCave to light the fire and rattle the keys, I'll share this little snippet, just another log on the fire, to help keep those flames roaring. Now, it's conceivable I might actually write and publish something else that will get reviewed someday, and Hiram Grange & The Chosen One's street date has long since passed, but it's nice to run across little blurbs about it here and there. Saw this Hiram review on Goodreads the other day:

"This book drew me in from the first page. Characters were well-developed and the story was full of action and vivid-details. I'll never look at maggots the same way again!"

There you go, folks. That's me. Busting long-held stereotypes of maggots since 2010. And hey, if you pick up a copy today, it should arrive by Christmas!

Otherwise, enjoy your turkey and stuffing, and have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Advice From Norman Partridge: American Frankenstein: Building Your Resume

2011-11-23T08:48:00.000-08:00

Absolutely awesome blog post from Norman Partridge today. So MUCH of this sums up how I feel about myself and where I am and where I want to be as a writer. Here's some awesome snippets:

"and I wonder if young writers will get that kind of one-stop-shopping glance in the rearview mirror as the years pass -- I mean, does anyone really archive their emails or (even worse) text messages? I don't think so."

I love this. At times, I wish we didn't have email at all. The nice thing about mailing out a hardcopy submission - the few times I've done it - is you get to leave it alone. Which is so freeing. Because you only check your snail mail once a day. Now, I find myself, with this wondrous thing called email, checking my email EVERY FIVE MINUTES. And that amps up the depressing even more. Sometimes, it gets so bad, I put a ban on checking my email for a few days or so.....

"Because writing is business. Oh, it can be art, too, but those battles are fought on another front, when you're alone with the page in your office."

Yes, yes, YES. Anything you write - whatever type of story - you turn into art when it's just you and the paper/computer.

"there's an easy way to size things up for yourself. Just take a look at your personal bookshelf, the one where you keep your solo work and contributor copies of anthologies and magazines where your work has appeared. Run your finger along those spines. Take your creative pulse. See if the work bound up in those volumes satisfies you or doesn't. If there are novels on those shelves you wish you hadn't written, think about the ones you should have written instead... and write 'em. Think about the books you'd like to see up there two years from now... and three years past that. Think about the publishers you've worked with and the ones you'd like to work with, and how you can position yourself to make some of those deals a reality. Think about where you've been, and where you're going, and the fiction that's going to get you there.

Make some plans. Kindle yourself some creative fire. Because it's the fire that will get you there. No matter where it comes from. No matter how you make it. It's the one thing that every writer needs to make good work.

So kindle it up, and when those flames deliver you to the keyboard be thankful.

Rattle those keys."

Every. Day. Every single day, my friends.

Read on....American Frankenstein: Building Your Resume

Push Past the Wall

2011-11-22T00:09:00.001-08:00

Another mini blog for you sleepyheads out there.

Got a nice little headache today. Right center of my eyes. But somehow, manage to drag myself out of bed, stumble through my morning rituals half awake, because I know...especially with this story, because I think.... I think...it's gonna be a doozy...that by the time I get breakfast in me, and the caffeine hits, I'll be typing away, lost in the story.

Of course, I'm working OFF hard copy, actually typing, now. That's always easier. Not just because it's typing, but also because it finally feels like I'm MAKING something. Something that looks like a manuscript I'll eventually submit.

Let's just hope y'all get to read it someday...

Bradbury Shelves, the Last

2011-11-20T08:59:00.000-08:00

So, we've reached the end of my "Bradbury Shelves", and there's not much left to see. Down in the middle bottom is another chunk of coral reef from the bay at Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Next to that is a "Hiram" award I received from Tim Deal of Shroud Publishing, again, for my manic reviewing habits. Next to that is REAL 60's era Mountain Dew bottle, sitting on top of the very first box of emptied pens, these depleted whilst writing Hiram Grange & The Chosen One.

To the left of the coral reef is a shot glass - ironically, a Christmas gift from a student's parent - which they brought back from their trip to St. Lucia. Obviously, this spawned lots of lame jokes about it being my native land, and all. On the shot glass, of course, is a ceramic bobble-head Hulk. Can't be without one of those.

Finishing things off, to the upper right, is the only baseball/softball glove I've ever owned. In high school I ran Track, but in junior high, I played slow pitch softball for our church team, and played sporadically through the years. As you can imagine, it's pretty worn in, by now. And, I took it to NECON several years ago for their annual softball game, which, because of the wicked heat, turned into a lack-luster batting contest instead.

AND, that's it. However, I have a few more things in my office of interest that just speaks of my quirky tastes.

I have a nice collection of animated movies, from garage sales, dollar stores, etc.They run the gamut: some original Marvel movies - Captain America, Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk. Also, a Highlander movie, and some Justice League action. While not a huge fantasy fan, there's the Lord of the Rings collection - the extended versions, too. On top is the original Transformers movie.

Collection wouldn't be complete, of course, without Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, also The Matrix Trilogy, Spider-man, Batman: The Dark Knight, the TV version of Stephen King's Salem's Lot - which I think is one of the better ones - and a nice box set of Transformers original series episodes. On top that is the pilot episode for V. I LOVED that show.

Book-ending my movies are some real classics. A G. I. Joe tape I found at a garage sale, the almost required Evil Dead (Hail to the King, Baby!) Blade Runner, some installments in the decently done 90's X-Men series, and, the best snag: two collections of Flash Gordon.

Now, Flash Gordon holds a special place in my heart, quite frankly. It's the first cartoon I can remember waiting in bated breath for the next week's episode. "We left the last episode with Flash and Gale trapped in the clutches of Emperor Ming! What's gonna happen now??"

Plus, it was full of strange monsters, weird planets, different people...that, also, is a DVD collection I'm hunting down one of these days, when I've got the money to burn.

Last but not least are my Star Wars shelves. At one time I prided myself on owning every single Star Wars novel written. Growing up, I was a Star Wars FANATIC. And for the longest time, there was NO Star Wars reading, past the Marvel comics series, the novelizations of the movies, (which I wore out), the Brian Daley Han Solo novels and the wonderful Splinter of the Mind's Eye, by Alan Dean Foster, which I discovered mostly by accident.

Then came Timothy Zahn and Heir to the Empire. From that point on, I vowed to own every Star Wars novel published. And for awhile, I stayed on track. Wrote a lot of my own fan fic, too. But eventually, I moved away from Star Wars, committed the cardinal sin, and lost track of the storylines. To catch up, I'd have to blitz through probably 10 or 11 novels. And maybe I will, someday.

Anyway, even though I don't read them anymore, they still occupy a huge space in my genre background, simply because it was the first book series I almost obsessively followed.

And, that's it! Hope you've enjoyed me expounding on the trivialities that make up my office. Anyone else have a "Bradbury" shelf of their own?

Bradbury Shelves, Part 3

2011-11-19T04:39:00.000-08:00

So, this section of my "Bradbury Shelf" isn't all that different from the rest. Near middle bottom, next to the "Big 30" mug are a collection of various tags from Cons I've attended the last three years. Chief among them is my first NECON badge, (the little bat-thing right next to the mug), and in front of that, my badge to the first Horrorfind I ever attended, when I foolishly paid $300 for a dealer table to sell nothing but scattered anthologies, (because The Hiram Grange Chronicles took much longer to produce than any of us thought), and also where I first met author Brian Keene. Every Horrorfind I've attended has been awesome, but you know what they say about firsts: somehow, nothing ever compares.

Behind the NECON badge peeks out a photo of what looks like an old house. An old, abandoned Victorian house in the middle of a cornfield, to be exact. Where I first decided I might want to write horror. For the full story behind that, read this article at Flames Rising.   For some free fiction based on that house, go here and read The Sliding.

Behind that is a CD, a compilation Gardner Goldsmith made of short stories - tricked out in full radio production - dedicated to Necon's 30th Anniversary.   Features one of my early short stories, "Therapy", and also another landmark...I started showing up with other writers in cool places.

At middle bottom - though you can't tell, probably - is the remains of a half smoked cigar in a little plastic baggie. Sounds ridiculous, but that comes from Context 22, when - MICHAEL KNOST, of all people - asked little nobody me if I wanted to share a cigar with him. Looped under that is a Shroud lanyard, and also an old "koosh" ball, given to me by a good friend long ago in high school. Why is it there? Random memories of good friends are just fun, period.

In the very middle is an old Prince Valiant comic. Now, I never read the comic book itself, and am not sure where I came across THAT, but it used to run in the Sunday comics, and I used to read it pretty regularly.   The Sunday Comics used to be a BIG DEAL. Especially when Spider-Man and the Phantom used to run strips, so that comic reminds me of those.

To the right you'll see another issue of The Hulk, one of the first I bought on my own dime in high school, and it was this issue - in particular - when I really started buying into Dr. Banner's plight, and how no one understood what it was like carrying a monster around inside him. Right in front of that is a paper cup (just random) with a few pens in it, under that and next to it are two cases of full of emptied, used up pens. I have this thing: first of all, I'm addicted to ONE PEN: a Pilot G2 .07. In a pinch I'll write with anything, but given the choice, I'll take those every time.

And for some reason, during Hiram Grange & The Chosen One, I started saving them after they ran dry. And it's become a "thing". So, every Pilot G2 .07 I use and deplete, I save. Don't ask me to explain it. That's what "things" are. Things you do because you want to, but have no real explanation for. Next to that is an empty can of Gridlock Lo Carb Energy Drink. This probably seems really strange, but seeing as how I get up every morning at 3 AM to write, I NEED my caffeine. And I used to consume Monster Lo Carb by the liters.

But Monsters proved to be REALLY expensive. Almost three bucks a can. Two summers ago, I discovered Gridlock at Aldi's, for only .99 a can. And, can you beat it - they actually tasted better. So, I went "indie" (ironic, given the state of the publishing world) with a low-market energy drink, and it's worked out just fine. Behind that is a cool crossover issue featuring Batman and Spawn. It's a cool issue, and I liked Todd McFarlane's work. His Spiderman is still one of my favorite Spideys of all time. In front of that is one of Madi's first easter photos. With a live RABBIT, of all things. Terminally cute.

Above that? A framed picture of Abby and I, right before we got married. That's the picture we used in all the wedding invitations, I believe. Above that, ironically, is a science fiction encyclopedia given to me by an ex girlfriend who knew nothing about the genre and cared little for it. Sort of a "back-handed" gift, I guess you could say. Still a cool book, though.

In the middle: a blue plaque, given to me by Davis College for my one year stint as men's basketball coach, (same team that did so well and bought me the trophy on the other end of the shelf), and a "Teacher of the Quarter" award, from my first year teaching at Seton Catholic Central High School.

Behind that are two things you can barely see, because: 1. I haven't framed them yet; 2. the wall in my office is bare concrete, and I'd need masonry equipment to hang them in the first place. So I pulled both those up and took the following close-ups:

The poster with the blue "NJCAA", just barely visible in the above photo, is a banner from my college team's trip to the National Tournament my freshman year at Broome Community College. All my teammates signed it. I really need to frame it, keep it in as good a shape as I possibly can. And, ironically, years later - teammates Andy Slocum and Paul Morrissey have gone on to be a cartoonist and a stand-up comedian, respectively.

The second is a poster for my first ever Barnes & Noble signing, back when I KNEW I was headed to the big time, after selling only two short stories, one to the first edition of The Midnight Diner, the other - which I never got paid for - to a sketchy publisher that went belly-up soon after it opened its doors. This was in the early days of POD, and loser publishers like this caused lots of the brick and mortar stores to stop stocking POD titles (at least, that's my theory).

Anyway, at the time I was writing a weekly column in our city newspaper, actually had a "following" of sorts, so had a decent crowd at the signing. Better frame this baby, too. Way things look now - for publishing in general - may never do a solo signing in a Barnes & Noble ever again...

And that's it. Last installment of the Bradbury shelves comes tomorrow, with maybe some other supplemental fun stuff from my office...

Morning Mini-Thought: THIS Is What It's All About

2011-11-19T01:25:00.000-08:00

A quick mini-blog for all you out there in dreamland.

It's 4:20 AM. Everyone is sleeping but me. The house is dead quiet, and I'm in my office, editing, shaping and bringing a story to life.

THIS is what it's all about. If I never attend another Con, I'll really miss my writing friends. If I only ever see publication in the small press and never really have many fans, I'll be dissapointed, sure.

But in the end, this moment, RIGHT NOW, mornings like these?

THIS is what it's all about.

THIS is WRITING.

Okay. Back to the BatCave, and back to work...

Bradbury Shelves, Part 2

2011-11-18T05:54:00.000-08:00

So, today's installment of my "Bradbury Shelves". Again, I committed a mistake, yesterday - the Horrorfind brochure I mentioned was actually this year's program. A really cool time. The program on the upper left is last year's Horrorfind program, which was a really a "turn-key" year for me. Knew a lot more people, and I could easily say more people knew me. Up behind that is a copy of Broome Community College's alumni newsletter, announcing the release of Hiram Grange & The Chosen One.

Just under that is a pretty cool DC/Darkhorse Comics crossover, featuring the new Green Lantern - Kyle - against one of those nasty Aliens. Don't know about anyone else, but I liked those DC/Darkhorse crossover featuring both Aliens and Predators. Right next to that is a pretty cool Punisher figurine/action figure.

Now, I was never a big fan of the Punisher, but when I taught junior high, I got into the habit of collecting all sorts of comic book action figures because my students tended to buy them for me at Christmas. They're not collectibles at all, really...except in sentiment...and most of them have since been passed on to Zack and Madi.

Center stage is a really crucial issue of The Hulk, from when I regularly followed the title. The Hulk is easily one of my favorite Marvel Heroes. Probably something about Bruce Banner having an uncontrollable, misunderstood monster inside him really appealed to me. I don't follow comics much anymore, but I can say that The Hulk was one I followed the longest.

In front of them: my name tag and author "name-plate" from AnthoCon, in it's first year, and easily one of the best Cons I've ever attended. Underneath my Con tag is a little leatherbound notebook a student gave me for Christmas, my first year of teaching high school. Now, students often give gifts, but this was from one of my best students, also a book lover herself, so it was probably the most thoughtful gift I'd received from a student at the time. I've since filled it with drafts and outlines and half-finished stories. Poems, too.

There's a really old baseball there. Not mine. I never played. But I got it from Dad, and though he never played organized baseball, he played a lot of stick ball, apparently. I've kept it this whole time, I think, just because it was his.

Off to the lower right is a mug someone gave me for my 30th birthday. Not high on the actual value scale, but it represents my wife's biggest, best surprise ever: my 30th birthday party. Totally blew me out of the water. I was coming home from a long trip, weary and tired, certainly not expecting my house to be filled with family and friends. One of the best surprises, ever.

On the very top, towards the right, are two plaques "given" to me by the kids (ergo: made by Abby, with the kid's names signed to them). I never take these things for granted, and these things are precious to me.

It should be noted that running along the entire shelf, supporting all these things, are old pulp novels, a lot of them circa 1918 (you can see a peak of them, middle right, right under some photo booth strips from one of the last summer boys' wedding). No real important, big names: lots of forgettable writers who've long since passed on, unrecognized by anyone. But when I was fourteen years old, my great grandmother started giving them to me, one book a month.

At the time, I was tired of YA fiction, and, if I wasn't ready for great fiction yet, I was certainly ready for something more intense, edgier. For several years, I read lots of really, really creepy noir, detective stories and crime/murder mysteries. A good share of westerns, too, including my first exposure to Riders of the Purple Sage.

My great grandmother promised that when she passed on, all those books would go to me. They did, and I promised myself I'd NEVER to throw them out, to keep them all. Seeing as how they played a HUGE part of building my genre foundations, I consider it only proper that they form the virtual "spine" of my Bradbury shelf...

Some Lighter Fare: My "Bradbury Shelves"

2011-11-17T07:48:00.000-08:00

Things have been sorta heavy and serious around here lately, so it's time for a little lighter retrospective on my interests and background and shaping as a fan of all-round genre stuff. As I've said in the past, I can't say I found my roots as a kid in horror and monster movies and stories, but I was definitely drawn to different, out-of-the-box media which certainly shaped my interests.

Mostly adventure cartoons, in the beginning, ironically a few fantasy 'toons like Blackstar, Dungeons & Dragons (though I never really got on the He-Man train), Spider-Man & His Amazing Friends, Batman, Justice League of America, The Fantastic Four, Thing and Superfriends, of course. Jason of Star Command was a pretty cool live-action Star Wars-wanna-be show I barely remember glimpses of, except that I was absolutely obsessed with it. There's a DVD collection of all its episodes, and one of these days, I'm going to get it.

Some pretty cool short lived cartoons like Go-Bots, Pole Position, and of COURSE Transformers. When a bit older, G. I. Joe and ThunderCats occupied top spot for my animated affections, and when I moved into comics, I was all over the map.

My aunt used to get me a comic subscription every year for my birthday. First came Star Wars, then G. I. Joe, Transformers, ThunderCats, The Secret Defenders and New Defenders, and after awhile, Dad allowed me to buy one comic every month at the Reader's Island, at pretty cool magazine kiosk at our local mall. My tastes were pretty eclectic, ranging from The Hulk to Batman. Later in college, I encountered Johnny Blaze/Ghost Rider, and really followed the Hulk and various X-men titles for awhile. Of course, I was all over the Death of Superman and Knightfall titles.

And of course, the Christmas gift that practical, engineering, nonfiction-reading Dad probably regrets giving to this day: in junior high, my first box-set of Original Five Year Mission Star Trek novels. Even more than Star Wars (because the first NEW SW novel wasn't released until after high school graduation) Star Trek was my first Sci Fi love.

At that time, I knew nothing of the movies or television shows. For me, Jim and Spock and Bones existed only in print, and that's it. By my senior year of high school, I encountered Isaac Asimov's Foundation series, but for a long time, I gravitated back to Star Trek and Star Wars.

Even as my genre interests are varied, so are my interests, period. I just like lots of different STUFF. I think that's why I love author Norman Partridge's blog so much. Sure, he blogs about writing and the writing life and all that, but mostly, he blogs about stuff he likes. About things that interest him, and things that inspired him. Seems so much more genuine than pre-determined posts with a topic and question calculated to draw a certain number of comments for maximum website exposure.

I know that's a big thing these days for authors, and while I sorta admire the ability to draw that much attention to a website, I tire of it, don't read those blogs very often, because they just seem to rehash the same topics they know will draw attention. That, quite frankly, bores me.

Anyway, Norm has what he likes to call his "Bradbury Shelves". He details the inspiration of these shelves stuffed full of nostalgia here, here and here. Now, I don't have anything nearly as impressive as Norm does, and a lot of the stuff on my own "Bradbury" shelf I've collected over the last 10-15 years, not from when I was a kid. There's some fun stuff there, though, so I thought I'd cover bits of it for a few blogs.

A note: My "shelf" has moved around a lot, in different rooms and places. Right now it's in my new office (which is really a work/tool room) on pretty plain shelving. But, w/o further ado, he's segment #1:

So, the big basketball trophy to the left has NOTHING to do with writing at all, but has huge memories attached to it. Basically, at a really BAD time in my life, right after breaking things off with my ex-fiance, I was handed the opportunity to coach a small college's men's basketball team. Supposed to be the assistant coach, but the head coach left unexpectedly.

I played four years of college hoops, basketball was actually my first love, but I'd never coached before. Had no clue. So I figure one thing: "We're small and fast. So we need to outrun everyone. And to do that, I need to condition the heck out of them." Luckily, I had a team of rock-hard, determined kids, led by three extra-hard senior captains.

They did everything I asked of them and more. We defied all expectations, turned in a winning season, and lost in the Regionals by 3 points, two steps shy of our National Tournament. And the best part is, the players pitched in and bought that trophy for me. Importance? It was really the first time I felt like a leader, of any kind.

The book immediate next to it, More Scary Stories? That whole series fascinated me in elementary school, and I guess you could say that's where my love of this stuff came from. Those simple stories freaked me out, but I couldn't stop reading them. Prediction of the future....?

Anyway, holding it in place is a chunk of coral reef from the bay of Ocho Rios, Jamaica. My last year of college basketball, our team traveled to Jamaica, stayed there for a week, running camps and outreach programs, and we played a technical college and the Jamaican Junior National Team. I got that coral reef snorkeling. Saw a swordfish and almost freaked out, thought it was a shark...

You see the old fashioned Coke bottle? (really, one of the reissues from the eighties) I've got a bunch of those and REALLY old bottles, from the fifties and sixties. I think they look cool, and also, I firmly believe soda tasted WAY better bottled in glass than they do now.

Of course, a Hess Truck. Classic kid's gift. Will always keep it. Just wish I'd kept it in better shape, because you can't find those original ones ANYWHERE, now.

Between the coral and Hess truck are two medals I received when my college basketball team went to the National Tournament freshman year. Though not a big scorer, I started almost every game and played a lot. Would like to think I made a difference. Anyway, those medals aren't worth much, except my high school team always posted losing seasons, so that one year of college basketball pretty much wiped out four years of frustration for me, as a player.

Edit/Update: To the far right is a program for this year's Horrorfind, one of the best Horrorfinds I've attended yet.

And of course, peeking out the top is my first Hiram Grange Award for my manic reviewing habits, and also, behind the Coke bottle is an AnthoCon program, a first of it's kind (and hopefully not last) also. Next to the Hiram Award is one of the very pictures taken of Madi and I, with me - of course - reading to her. Behind another bottle is a thank you card signed by the entire Seton HS cast of Romeo & Juliet. I played Prince Escalus.

Okay. Next section of my Bradbury shelf, tomorrow...

How I Want to Be: AnthoCon Retrospective, Part 2: Who Do I Play With?

2011-11-15T04:12:00.000-08:00

So, here's part two. On a much more personal note. And, while I've gotten lots of comments lately on how refreshing it is to read my blog because of its forthrightness and honestly, understand this: these are my opinions only, my musings about how I think things should go for me. And NO ONE should ever take offense, ever.

That having been said, let's hop into the way-back machine. Back in high school, a young guy named Kevin Lucia (who wrote every now and then in a spiral Mead notebook, not really understanding what he was doing) was obsessed with basketball. He ate, drank, breathed, slept, dreamed, lived basketball, 24/7.

And he was good. One of the best players on the high school team, a 4-year varsity starter, (though it should be noted he played for a pretty small high school) destined to play Junior College and Division III basketball. But, the thing was, this kid had an all-consuming drive to become the best basketball player he could be. So he lifted weights and ran wind-sprints over the summer. Jumped rope. And played, all the time.

Oh, did he play.

He also attended a high-profile, week long basketball camp every summer. At these camps, he ran through drills, played games, lived basketball for a whole week, under the direction of top-flight coaches.

And there were lots of players there. The all-stars, super players, players better them him: the elite. The cool kids. The superstars. And of course, Kevin wanted to hang around them, for lots of reasons. Sure, because it was nice hanging out in their glow. But also, he hoped to get asked to play in their pick-up games. Because he knew the only way to get better was to play against people better than him. Have them trash him, and he desperately wanted that, because he wanted to get better.

At these basketball camps, there were also players his level and beneath his level. And they were usually pretty cool, nice guys. Quite frankly, some of them a lot nicer than the "super stars", and even if they weren't improving in the game as quickly as others, they still loved to play. But Kevin noticed that some of them didn't take the game very seriously. Mostly played 'horse' or '21' or 'knockout', just goofing around. And that was fine, too. Because you can't take everything deadly serious, all the time.

But he noticed, also, that some of those guys not only didn't like the superstars, they loathed them. Built up lots of angst towards them, and believed THEY were superior to the super stars, because they didn't need to suck up to them. "We don't need to hang out with those guys," this group claimed (well, some of them did). "We're better than that."

Now, this left Kevin in quite a quandary. He wanted to get better, was determined to get better. So he was determined to hang-out with the big boys, be ready in an instant to run with them, so he could get knocked around and get better. But, to be frank, sometimes the big boys only wanted their own buddies around, which made sense, and was fine, too. The little guys didn't own the corner market on 'true friendship'. These guys were true friends with each other too, and sometimes just wanted to be with their own.

But some of the little guys? The ones who (some of them) stuck their noses in the air and claimed they were better than the big boys? Well, they felt the big guys were being exclusionary big meanies, and sometimes that attitude was just annoying. Didn't make sense. And, in the process, became not fun.

And then, young Kevin's gaze drifted to a hoop on a far away, empty court at the back of camp. He decideded to go over to that hoop by himself and shoot running jump shots until his legs wouldn't carry him anymore, do lay-up drills until he got dizzy, lose himself in the bammita-bammita rhythm of a dozen dribbling drills, and shoot free throws until his arms turned to rubber. By himself. Because sometimes, you just need to do it by yourself. And let everyone else go their own way.

Now.

This scenario by no means has a 1 - 1 ratio with the world of publishing as I see it. But reflections of it? These I do see. And it also made me question my intentions when attending Cons: am I there merely to gleam off the super-stars, the big boys, trying to hang in their wake, and...in rather base terms....suck up? And, if I ever do become a big boy...will I leave others behind, folks who maybe don't move at the same speed in their careers, or maybe aren't writers at all?

And what about my family? My wife and kids? Will I keep balance? Will I NOT lose hold of them and everything I hold dear in the pursuit of this big, great dream of mine that's so enticing, so tempting, it can suck even a strong person down in a minute. Will I make sure NOT to leave them out, or behind?

But, should I then turn my nose up at those big folks, scorn their advice, dismiss them as being too "big to hang out with us" (which is patently untrue), maintain that I don't need those big boys? (a huge mistake) And, how petty of me to assume that the big boys don't have close friends of their own they'd like to hang with, for a change?

Maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion. Over-thinking things (which, as my students know, I'm prone to doing). But...once again, as I've so often come to over the past three years...balance is central to everything, especially figuring out a writing career, while remaining true to one's own values, and most of all, their loved ones AND friends.

Because - and this is NOT meant to point out anyone or anything in particular - I see things. I observe. Watch. Wait. And think.

And remember. Because I see things I don't like. And I worry, how to be me...but still run with the big dogs (or try to) without being an annoying, glory-sucking hanger-on, and I want to hang out with my friends, and I want to stay friends with them.

I want to shoot for the stars. But I want to stay consistent.

I want to be me.

Not sure if I've come to an answer, here. Not sure if there is an answer, really. And none of this comes from AnthoCon itself, except that I hung out with some really good, supportive friends this weekend....and I don't want to leave them behind. And, I don't want to get sucked into the Con circuit whirlpool, and forget real life.

My biggest problem? I just want everything to be simple.

And, let's face it - life is not simple.

But I do know this - Con season is over, and again, finances being what they are, who knows what Con I'll attend next. But that's okay. Because see that court all the way in the back, the one no one is using? It's time to go off by myself, BE myself, and shoot running jump shots until I can't run, anymore.

Because that, in the end, is what it's all about. Something simple. Because there's only so much I can control, but, really, considering the things I CAN control: my work habits, effort, behavior, treatment of others, stewardship of my family....

There's SO much I CAN control.

It's simple.

But, then again, simple isn't easy.

How I Want to Be: AnthoCon Retrospective, Part 1: Thank You, Brian Keene

2011-11-14T17:56:00.000-08:00

Before I say another word, at this point, every horror/speculative fiction fan should memorize the following equation:

Shroud Publishing and AnthoCon = Absolute Quality and Awesomeness In Every Way

Now that we have that out of the way, go buy tons of Shroud stuff while reading this blog. First off, a truly awesome weekend with awesome people, too many to name here. A great way to end the Con season. And not only did the Four Horsemen of Shroud put on a simply awesome gathering, but I experienced a few revelations this past weekend when it came to whatever future "career" I might have.

But first....do you want to write horror? Do you? Really? In that case, go read Brian Keene's keynote address for AnthoCon right now. Know why?

Because this post typifies my journey as a writer this past year and a half. Basically, Brian Keene was speaking about me (and many other horror writers, also).

So, to the point (and this is like confessing at A. A.): "Hi, my name is Kevin Lucia, and I used to think horror was only blood and guts and demons and the only horror I read is Dean Koontz, Stephen King and Peter Straub. Wait, other people have written/write horror?"

This would've been me a few years ago. Admittedly, I hesitated to call myself a horror writer, and those were the only three horror writers I ever read. So, I was TOTALLY that young writer completely uninformed of the genre's history, and because of that, I didn't want to own up to the label "horror writer". Well, actually, I hate labels PERIOD, and have come to believe I write lots of stuff, some of it horror.

But I digress.

Anyway, my reading tastes were rather narrow. Things got better when I started reviewing for Shroud and got on the Leisure Fiction reviewer list (before they went all sploedy), but even then, still narrow.

This started changing when I read Norman Prentiss' Invisible Fences. Quiet, haunting, atmospheric, artful, built on quality storytelling, indepth character study NOT hinging on overloads of gore, I thought for perhaps the first time: "Hey. I think I can write this. THIS is something I really LOVE, and would LOVE to do."

Some compared Norman to this guy named Charles Grant. I thought: "Well, I liked Norm's work, let's check out this Grant guy."

And, phase one was complete. From the word go, the respectful restraint of Grant's prose, its flow and beauty, it's insightful storylines....THIS was something of SUBSTANCE (for me, anyway).

Then, wandering through a used book vender at Necon, I grabbed a book called The Place, by some guy named T. M. Wright.

Phase Two, complete. T. M. Wright has been called a "one man definition of 'quiet horror' ". And lo, I suddenly saw a glimpse of what I'd want to do with my future.

Quiet horror.

Now, Hiram Grange isn't quiet horror, but it's not straight up horror, either. Neither is the current project, being a HUGE genre-blend. But quiet horror.

It struck deep resonance, with me.

The final phase occurred when I spent an evening with legends Tom Monteleone and F. Paul Wilson. If you don't want to read the whole thing, here's a snippet:

"Their first night in Binghamton, Tom and Paul invited me to hang out. That in itself blew me away. I mean - they're tremendously friendly, giving, wonderful guys anyway - but even so. That they thought of me means the world, especially because, in Paul's words, he'd said to Tom before calling me: "Gotta get Kevin over here. He'd love this."

They were visiting Stuart David Schiff, editor of the legendary Whispers horror/sci fi/fantasy anthologies (of which before then I'd only heard "whispers" about). It never ceases to amaze me how many genre figures hide out in Binghamton. Of course, as the hometown of Rod Serling, that makes sense, I suppose.

Anyway. Stuart is not only a former editor, but a collector extraordinaire. And that doesn't even do the man justice. Over the years, he's jammed his basement full of collectibles, so many, it boggles the mind.

The captain's chair from the original Enterprise. And one from a Klingon warship. And those were two of his minor pieces. I can't, I simply CAN'T put into words what I saw that evening. Original prints of movie posters. Tomes of weird fiction by authors I'd only barely heard of. Figurines. LIFE-SIZE PAPER MACHE TIGERS FROM LONDON. Original studio horror props.

UN. REAL.

The biggest treat of the night was sharing WONDERFUL Chinese from a place in my own town I've never heard of - Moon Star - and listening to Tom and Paul and David reminisce on the genre's early days, their own careers, and everything under the sun concerning writing, publishing, horror, fantasy, and science fiction.

Tom and Paul repeatedly apologized, worried they were "waxing philosophical" and "boring the hell out of me" (an approximation of Tom's words). They needn't have worried. They weren't boring me. Far from it. They were totally, completely, taking me to school.

Faced with a basement full of absolute genre and even cultural memorabilia gold, and enthralled by their stories, I realized two very humbling, awesome things:

1. I knew next to NOTHING of genre fiction's history

2. I had virtually no genre heritage of my own. Not as rich as theirs, anyway."

Final Phase: Initiated.

So, I've spent the time since then reading primarily old stuff, with the exception of new stuff by authors I love. Tracked down almost all the Whispers anthologies. Shadows. More Grant and Wright. Saranntino. Ramsey Campbell. Fritz Lieber. Manley Wade Wellman. John Farris. Ed Gorman. J. N. Williamson. Karl Edward Wagner.

And I've been growing. Realizing that half the ideas I thought were good have already been done. And also, realizing there's plenty of room to move in the horror genre for me to write stuff I feel really good about, stuff true to me.

So, hearing Brian deliver that keynote address? Sounds corny, I know...but I felt like he was talking about me, to me.

Thanks, Brian. I'm still studying, still learning. And, I'm a bit late. But I'd rather read more of this stuff, and write less. Because then maybe the stuff I do write will be a lot more informed.

Part two - something much more personal - coming soon....

AnthoCon 2011: My Support Group

2011-11-11T05:12:00.000-08:00

So, I'm heading up to AnthoCon, my last Con of the year. I'll be rooming with fellow Hiram Grange Scribe Scott Christian Carr, I'll be signing copies of Hiram Grange & The Chosen One all weekend long, I'll be speaking on the following panel Saturday at 1:00:

Reaching Through the Veil: Channeling myth, religion, spirituality and the collective unconscious in imaginative fiction

An examination of the unseen forces that influence or manifest in fiction, from a mix of genres and beliefs. Moderator: Innana Arthen. Panelists: Lincoln Crisler, Jackie Gamber, Tim Lieder, Kevin Lucia, T. J. May, W. D. Prescott, Jeremy Wagner

...trying very hard NOT to act like a little fan-boy around all the bigger writers, and as usual, seeing folks who have become very dear to me, indeed. Because that's what Cons are all about, now. I'll be honest. They always pose a conflict for me. I'm amused by simple things, so even driving to new places I find fun and exciting. I know I'll be hanging with good friends all weekend. But I also know I'll miss my wife and kids, and by Sunday, I'll be chomping at the bit to get home.

Which has made me really evaluate WHY it is I attend Cons, now. At first, it was because I was a wide-eyed newbie who knew NOTHING (aside: like I really know any more NOW), knew no one, and just wanted to get into the genre SOMEHOW. Meet people, see faces, shake hands, go to panels, list and learn.

So, after almost three years attending Cons, where am I now? Well, I'm not a marque guest, there to draw attention to the Con, also there to actually maybe make some dough selling books because I have actual fans. Won't be like that for a long time...or it may NEVER be like that.

Where does that leave me? A middling fellow, who has done readings, spoken on panels, now understands that attending a Con is NOT going to CHANGE MY WRITING FUTURE, also aware I'll spend more money attending than I'll earn selling books. AND, the kids are getting older and little more demanding of Abby when I leave them, a little more of a handful.

Why go at all, then?

Because these folks have become my support group, my horror writer support group. Binghamton is a pretty small city. Not much in the way of writers here, even LESS in the way of horror writers. So I'm pretty much all on my own. Plus, writer forums have never meant much to me. Kinda old school that way. I get a giggle from Facebook and Twitter friends once and awhile, but I really need to SEE people. That's what makes an impact on me. Actually being around and SEEING people.

So, I'm not going to AnthoCon to sell my wares, impress folks at my reading (if I even do one), try to network or wheel and deal. I'm going to see my support group. Draw energy from them, revitalize, charge myself back up from their collective batteries for this crazy thing called "writing." In essence, that's what Cons are to me, now.

And hopefully, that's what they always will be, even if my career does grow. Because being a writer is a damn lonely business.

Hard to get by without your support group.

How I Almost Fell Into the "Quick n' Easy Trap"

2011-11-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

So, I've been blogging about digital self-publishing, the new spin on self-publishing in general, how easy it's gotten, and I offered examples of folks whom I think are doing it carefully, thoughtfully, while still believing in the future of the "gate keeper" and "publisher". In all this, I think author Richard Wright (Hiram Grange & The Nymphs of Krakow) got it right with this:

"So publishers have to change what they're for. Three good examples are Angry Robot Books, Abaddon Books, and Snowbooks. These are publishers that know what they like, and they're good at representing themselves, the publishers, as an identity. They talk to their readers, and the tone of that dialogue helps to identify them further. People are fans of Angry Robot Books. They're fans of Snowbooks. They're fans of Abaddon Books.

You think many people are fans of Penguin?"

I don't think truer words could've been spoken. We need that gate keeper or SOMETHING there to filter our works through, so they can be the best they can be. But the model of huge publishing is creaking and groaning...as talked about here, in Richard's post....and SOMETHING has to change.

So maybe that's where the future lies. In publishers like the ones mentioned above, and I'll throw in Medallion Press and Shroud (though I'm partial to the latter, of course) as PUBLISHING companies that have fans, too. We NEED them to thrive, because even with the ease of digital self-publishing so quickly, whenever we want....

...it's a trap. A clever trap.

One I almost fell into.

So, here's the thing - can I be honest?

I'm tired.

Really tired. Not of writing, but of submitting blindly, with no clear home for my work. That's where part of the fire came from in writing Hiram Grange & The Chosen One. I'd been contracted to write it, with a token advance. Had a deadline. Got feedback from my publisher and fellow Hiram Grange mates. That, my friends, was SUCH a rush. It empowered me to write every single day for hours in ways I can't even describe.

Do you know how long ago that was, now?

Roughly three years.

In the past year and half? Well, I guess I've sold three short stories, but there's no word on them being published any time soon. And I'm not griping about that, because that's the game, and I'm used to it. Really excited about those stories and where they've landed, can't wait to see them.

Also, my interactions with Harper Teen were great. I loved my conversations with the senior acquisitions editor there, she was kind enough to refer me to several agents, telling me to drop her name, even. She didn't have to do that, and I'm thankful she did. And, though those agents all passed on the project, that's okay, too, because I've come to believe I'm probably just not a Teen/YA writer, after all.

And, I really enjoyed working on my "BIG NOVEL" until I shelved it for later, and I've really enjoyed working on my Billy the Kid project (although, after receiving an ARC for Kevin J. Anderson's Captain Nemo, I'm pumped to get this finished, soon!), and WRITING ITSELF is still great, awesome, rewarding and fulfilling. And I COMPLETELY believe in the future of a publisher.

But I'm tired.

My spirits and confidence in my work and my future in publishing is lagging. Will this be a career? A short lived hobby? Does ANYONE want my work, at all?

(yes, I know. Insert violin music here...)

Anyway, I decided that, while I wasn't ready to jump into self-publishing, I thought it'd be cool to start publishing something here on the website. An idea I'd tooled with for a bit about a series of interconnected novellas, Charles Grant/Oxrun Station style. Even made a page for it, with a lame place-holder image. And then....

I almost fell into the trap.

Of rushing something into production just so I could show it off. Of writing something really fast and throwing out in front of folks, just because I could. Violating all my principles about taking the time to craft something carefully well-done.

I realized pretty quickly what was happening. And, luckily, something behind the scenes - which I can't talk about yet - developed about the time I'd decided to shelve the project. Something that re-vitalized me, at least reaffirmed that my work has a place somewhere, and has given me something tangible to work towards, while still continuing on with my other efforts.

The Black Pyramid won't be ready for at least another year. But I'm leaving that page there, because I'm still going to experiment. But I'm determined, commited, more than ever...

That ANYTHING worth doing - ESPECIALLY Art (because that's what this IS, after all) - takes time. Carefully, well-spent TIME.

Self-publishing and digitally self-publishing may be easier than ever.

But writing something of quality craftsmanship? That's NEVER easy.

Because that's what makes it worthwhile, in the first place.

Belated Blog: Digital Self-Publishing Done Right, Part 3: Richard Wright

2011-11-09T04:11:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the lag-time in these blog posts, life and career (teaching and work for hire gigs) got in the way the last few days. As a refresher to bring folks back to the matter at hand: I blogged last week about the changes in publishing, my goals and dreams as a writer, and an experiment I was considering about self-publishing "of a kind".

I then cited two examples of talented, PROVEN writers still invested in the traditional process, who were also making headway with self-publishing efforts, too.

First I cited Phil Tomasso/Thomas Phillips, a proven suspense/crime-thriller author who's used digital self-publishing to bring back his out of print titles, though he's still continuing to move forward in the realm of traditional, print publishing.

Then I referenced Mike Duran's example, another proven, debut novelist from a traditional mid-list house who self-published his novella Winterland because - as a novella - it didn't fit into the CBA's (Christian Bookseller Association) paradigm, it was a much different genre than he normally writes in, and the self-determination of releasing the work when HE wanted to - right between traditionally published novels (his next due 2012) - allowed him to keep some forward momentum while waiting for his new traditionally published release.

My third and last example is Richard Wright, another proven writer and fellow Hiram Grange scribe. His short fiction has found its way into numerous collections, not the least of which is the Stoker Nominated collection Dark Faith. He's been blurbed by Brian Keene, and though he still labors forth in the realm of traditional publishing, he's self-published a novel, Cuckoo.

Richard and I share similar feelings about the advent of digital epublishing, Kindle/Nook, and these turbulent times in publishing. There are clear disadvantages for new writers, and the advantages are murky, hazy, unformed at best. He fleshes out his feelings about the changes in the industry in the following posts: The Wolf at the Door, Why Publishers?, Brand New Day. All in all, I think the biggest thing Richard and I share is the following sentiment concerning today's publishing scheme:

"There are, after all, so many ways to get it wrong now, and no sure ways to get it right."

In any case, Richard is going about it in as right a way as I can possibly imagine. Like Phil Tomasso, Cuckoo is a re-release of a previously published work that had an abortive "shelf-life". Now that Richard has moved up a bit in the game, gathered some followers, he decided to self-publish/re-release Cuckoo for his new fans, some ten years after its original publication, albeit with updates and a rewrite or two.

And also, while he accepts that the old model of publishing is dying, he doesn't meet this new future with the hand-rubbing glee of someone who senses his time is coming not because he's honed his talent, put in his time, suffered and "bled" for his art, but because the establishment is collapsing, he views the future openly, honestly...and warily.

Because above all, Richard is a talented writer committed to quality craft, who also understands very keenly that with these new revolutions, SOMETHING must...and WILL...change between the author and the publisher. We just don't know what those changes will be, yet, or if they will be advantageous to writers, especially newer ones.

So.

Where does that leave me? Especially concerning my experiment? Well, something has transpired behind the scenes - something REALLY good - that has stayed my hand, put off the experiment for awhile. But tomorrow or the next day, I'll share how I feel about the issue, and what I almost planned to do about it.

The Perseverance of Hope in the Midst of Horror

2011-11-05T07:10:00.000-07:00

So, most - all - my fiction (links to stuff you can buy, links to free stuff) has found its home in the dark, horror/speculative market. So, I write horror. My soon to come "experiment" would be "quiet horror", and my current Billy the Kid "thingie" is essentially a gigantic genre mash that's equal parts Weird Western and Horror. Hiram Grange & The Chosen One is certainly horror.

But I read LOTS of stuff. Pretty balanced between horror/supernatural suspense/thriller and the stuff I teach, which would probably be called "literary". So, my reading tastes are pretty varied, and I like LOTS of different kinds of stories. Anything well written with pretty, pretty words, especially (see: Charles Grant, Ray Bradbury, Ron Malfi, Mary SanGiovanni, Gary Braunbeck, Al Sarranntino...I could go on...)

But, in the end: I'm a sucker for the following: hope. destiny. purpose. sacrifice. meaning. redemption.

And I think horror is the perfect vehicle for those things. Now, this is well-trod ground, so we won't go over it again, but here it is: horror is a really wide genre. Plenty of stories for all sorts of tastes. But as time goes by, I feel myself not only called more and more to refine my prose, but also to write stories whose cores center on the above themes.

Notice the distinct lack of "happy endings" up there. Because you can't always have that, especially with the short story and novella form. Those don't necessarily offer the same resolution found in novels, and, let's be honest....

Happy endings, in this world, aren't always possible.

But you know what?

Sometimes, they are.

Lots of people take Dean Koontz to task over his overwhelmingly spiritual, "good" themes, especially in his later works. And yeah, a couple of his most recent novels definitely read like he's phoned them in (but you know what? I'm of the humble opinion the man deserves it.) And, yeah, in Dean's world: golden retrievers = Jesus or angels in disguise.

But you know what, I find myself coming back to his work again and again.

Because, every now and then...I need my golden retriever/Jesus story. I NEED a hopeful story built on those themes that have come to mean so much to me as a writer.

I'm a firm believer that every story demands its own ending. I've written several shorts that emphatically DO NOT end happy. They - and by 'they', I mean the stories themselves - demanded differently. And the experiment I'm planning may offer haunting resolution, but not something "happy".

But, deep inside, I have this overwhelming desire to write something beautiful, vibrating with those themes...

hope. destiny. purpose. sacrifice. meaning. redemption.

I often write dark stuff. That will probably never change. But more and more, I'm finding that for ME (again, because this blog will NEVER be about telling others what to do or think or write), there's really only one good reason to write such darkness.

To further contrast the light. Which is why the below trailer for a new series on FOX has got me really excited. Because THIS is the type of story I dream of writing someday. Was writing, in fact, before I got bit by the "Billy the Kid" bug. Someday, I hope I to finish that story...and I hope you'll all get to read it...

Digitally Self-Publishing the Right Way, Part Two: Mike Duran's "Winterland"

2011-11-04T03:20:00.000-07:00

Before I go into this lock, stock, and barrel, here's this: writing is a personal journey. Something someone does for the love of it. There are many avenues to publication. Years ago, it was "right" to submit and absorb rejection after rejection through traditional publishing, and "WRONG" to self-publish. In fact, for a mind-twisting look about how original publishing was ALL self-publishing, read this article here.

Then, along came POD (print on demand) publishing. It became easier to format your own manuscript, upload, and print copies of your book out. Cover art and formatting became a lot easier. And, lo and behold, digital epublishing sent the whole thing "off the hook".

People write and publish for lots of different reasons. If you've found your way to this blog and you're an avid self-publisher, please don't take offense. Obviously, when I say in my blog title 'Digitally Self-Publishing the Right Way", I mean from my perspective, and for folks who may share my perspective.

In the end, that writing belongs to you - your blood, sweat, and tears. So what you do with it, in the end, is ultimately up to you. My concerns in writing these posts come from a recent comment made by friend and colleague and subject of tomorrow's post, Richard Wright, about the state of publishing today:

"There are, after all, so many ways to get it wrong now, and no sure ways to get it right."

So, in essence, this is me looking around the publishing world, and offering up examples of what I think are smart, safe, and most importantly: WELL DONE examples. Certainly not me telling everyone else what to do.

And with that, on to today's post, and another good example of what I consider to be a pretty legitimate reason to digitally self-publish, novelist Mike Duran's novella, Winterland.   Now, Mike is an excellent, excellent writer. His debut novel, The Resurrection, was excellent, and I eagerly look forward to his next offering, The Telling (and, apparently, I really like the word 'excellent' this morning. Excellent!) His short work has been published in a variety of venues, as has his nonfiction - even one nonfiction article on Christian Horror in an issue of Rue Morgue.

Mike believes in traditional publishing. He's blogged many times about how his positive interactions with the editors at Realms have only served to make his novels better. He has an agent, and doesn't believe that model should go away.   And, even as Realms Fiction has reconfigured their publishing strategy to something not so advantageous to the writer, Mike is actively seeking out mainstream publishers, rather than throwing his hands into the sky, declaring the death of traditional publishing and self-publishing his novels willy-nilly one right after the other.

But he chose to self-publish his e-novella, Winterland, for several reasons. One, most of all, being that it was a novella (and a really AWESOME one, I promise you. Also something you should read!), and in the CBA, there's no market for that, really.   And, it was very much a dark fairy tale, a little different from his usual speculative venue.

Also, because epublishing has become so easy, releasing Winterland on his own timetable serves to help his career: with The Resurrection a year in the bag, The Telling not due until 2012, this serves as a nice "Hey! I'm still here! Don't forget about me!" reminder to his readers and to potential readers (We'll come back to this in a few days).

But he most emphatically has NOT given up on traditional publishing. And he's very careful about everything he does. Meticulous, and he KNOWS - because he still believes in traditional publishing - that before anything he writes goes out to the public, folks MOST look it over first, pull it apart, show its faults first.   So, in my humble opinion, THIS is another example of self-publishing that is smartly and well done.

And that "Hey! I'm still here! Don't forget about me!" thing?

Pretty much the core of my great experiment, which I'll detail in a few days, after talking about my last example of smart self-digital publishing tomorrow, in Richard Wright.

Clarification: Mike Duran, Phil Tomasso, Richard Wright and GOOD Digital Self Publishing

2011-11-03T04:21:00.000-07:00

I'm a little more awake and a lot less grumbly than yesterday, so over the next few days, I want to clarify something I grumbled about yesterday (and have grumbled about in the past), and also throw a curve ball as an experiment is brewing in the old head.

First, the whole e-publishing, ebook thing. I've sorta grumbled about this a lot in the past year, because quite simply, as a reader, I'm a book lover. Always will be. And I'm a little stubborn, border-line fanatical about it. For me, the concept of ebooks - as a READER - isn't exciting at all. Throw in the bald fact that I really can't afford a Nook or Kindle, and won't be able to do that anytime soon, and you won't see me reading ebooks anytime soon.

However, as a WRITER....well, let's be honest. Ebooks are a force to be reckoned with, a viable market avenue here to stay. ALSO, after a year of upheaval and "doom and gloom" predictions about the death of print, it also seems that - while the mass market paperback may be on the way out, trade paperbacks will be around for a good while, and ironically enough, hardcovers still seem to be doing okay. So, for now, ebooks and physical books can co-exist.

So, I guess my issue is - not to offend - how EASY (relatively speaking) epublishing is for the individual to simply publish their work. And I mean relatively speaking, because formatting something, editing, getting nice cover art, figuring out formats, graphic layout, marketing - that stuff is a LOT of work.   So saying epublishing is "easy"? Bit of a misnomer.

I guess, the long and short of it, is this: I'm still a fan of the gatekeeper. I still believe in traditional publishing. I still think we NEED editors to work with (good ones, hard to find sometimes, I get that) in order to make our stories the BEST they can be, not just "good enough". I kinda don't want to be "good enough to be published". I want to be the best I can be. And, no matter how you cut it, self-epublishing eradicates the gatekeeper, which, contrary to rising popular opinion, I DON'T think is a good thing.

NOW.

Here's the flip side.

I'm only concerned about this with writers who haven't proven themselves. Folks who have cranked out their first book ever, and maybe have paid for professional edits and layout and cover design....but they haven't done their time in the trenches. Haven't paid their dues, or proven themselves. But hey: they don't have to, now. They're published, after all.

Over the next three or four days, I'm going to highlight three PROVEN, established writers who are pioneering the digital publishing trail, folks for whom I believe the digital self-publishing craze is a GOOD thing: authors re-releasing out of print material, (See NECON EBOOKS for this, also) established authors creating non-standard content that didn't necessarily fit in anywhere, and established authors releasing something digitally, while still striving away in the traditional market (that's where my experiment will fall. Sorta.). The authors in question: Phil Tomasso, Mike Duran, and Richard Wright. Today, I'll be looking at Phil Tomasso.

1. Phil Tomasso/Thomas Phillips: I'll admit, straight out before I pimp his stuff, Phil has become a good, good friend. He's been a lot of help, given lots of great advice, and I've learned a lot from him. He's visited with my Creative Writing and English students before, they love him, and he's solid writer, tells great stories, writes smooth prose, and he's a veteran, in his own right. In his case, digital epublishing is a good, good thing.

In the nineties, Phil wrote and published several crime/thriller novels through a Leisure-esue midlist house, sold over 80 short stories to reputable horror/crime/thriller mags, got favorable reviews, won a few awards, and even saw a hardcover release. Unfortunately, he ran into some personal things and dropped out of the publishing scene for awhile. Back in 2008 he reemerged under the pen name of Thomas Phillips with his first CBA (Christian Bookseller Association) release, The Molech Prophecy, a great suspense/thriller. Looked like a brand-new start. His then-publisher was talking a series, even.

And then they said: "Let's see how this first one does."

And then, they said: "I think this will be the only one."

Now, this is just my soapbox opinion, but the CBA failed in Phil's case. An awesome writer with a deft touch (one of those few writers you can call "obsessively readable"), an industry veteran with a good grass-roots following, they basically left him out in the cold.

So, after giving the CBA its fair shot, he resumed writing under his real name.   Also, he's decided to re-release several of his well-received but now out of print crime novels through Kindle, along with two previously unpublished novels he just wasn't able to find a home for. Check them out here. You really should read them.

But Phil hasn't abandoned the editorial process or traditional print publishing. He just announced recently on Facebook that a publisher - albeit a small but reputable press - has shown interest in a vampire trilogy of his. So he's certainly using digital publishing to his advantage, to re-ignite his career, build some momentum - even if it's just personal and motivational - but he's not leaving the system high and dry. He still believes in the gate keeper.

That, in my opinion, is a judicious, smart use of digital self-publishing.

Maybe I'm too idealistic.

It's possible. I'm an idealist, I'll admit it. But, in my humble opinion, even though the stigma of self-publishing is fading, there are times to "self-publish", and times not to.

Tomorrow, I'll look at Mike Duran's self-published novella, Winterland.

This is supposed to be fun...right?

2011-11-02T00:20:00.000-07:00

Notice: tired rambling ahead. You've been warned.

Anyway, so I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to get my brain back into gear. And, maybe I'm feeling a little frustrated about this whole writing thing. We're all friends here, right? So I'll indulge in a little wha-wha. You've heard me whine before, so this isn't news. But, since I've turned this blog primarily into an online, stress-release journal...

I saw a recent Facebook friend post something similar to this, but I didn't chime in. Just sorta nodded to myself, "Word, Bro", pumped a fist and moved on. But, here I am, dumping it out now.

Feels like I've hit a huge, massive wall. Last three years, I've climbed over or knocked down lots of medium sized walls. Now, I've run smack into one. I'm stuck. In more ways than one. And I don't know if, when, or how I'm going to get moving again.

All the writers I know, who I started in this biz with, seem to be moving ahead of me. Leaving me behind. I see this writer signing this contract, that writer landing this big deal or placing a new story in that huge anthology. Everyone chugging right along, while I sit here and spin my wheels in neutral.

Part of the problem is I've been engaged in long-range projects with no immediate returns. Spent most the last year grinding away on a novel that I set aside middle of the summer for this current novel project. AND, after that, I've got a completely different, Charles Grantish novella/novel sitting on my desk, outlined, ready to go after I've completed the first draft of this novel.

So, again...more long range projects to come, more of me with my head down writing, partly to keep my nose to the grindstone, but also partly so I don't keep getting rubbed raw (which I shouldn't be; I should be happy for all those folks, and really, I am) each time another writing colleague posts a new accolade or sale or whatever.

I've got stories out there. Somewhere. One has been with an editor for over a year, no word yet. Another has been shortlisted with an anthology that also seems to have ground its wheels down into the mud. Another, one I'm really excited about, is really being picky about it's TOC, which is AWESOME....but I'll admit it. I just want some news, you know? If only to help keep me going every morning.

Also, Cons. On one hand, they're fun, refreshing, they recharge batteries. And, it's kinda cool that at the last couple, me the "middling" guy has hung out with a lot of newbies. Not really being a mentor, but hanging out with them, talking, chilling. BUT...

Hey. I don't know WHO really reads this blog or not sometimes, but here's a risk: some of you folks who used to chat with me and support me and give me advice now and then...where are you? Off "recruiting" other newbies under your wing? Busy schmoozing and wheeling and dealing with bigger folks down the line? Cause you used to be around. And now you're not, really. And it's not like I need you to prop me up, or anything. I just like hanging with you. Genuinely like you, and want to chill with you.

But you're busy and all. I get it. Because, hell...I'm NOT busy, am I? And I'm not gonna lie... I kinda really WANT to be. So I think, pretty soon, I'm going to pick a new Con where I don't know anyone and just attend all by my lonesome. Honestly, I might as well. Why go to Cons to see people who won't be available most the time anyway?

And then there's the whole self-e-publishing thing, which I still haven't come to turns with. Look, publishers e-publishing folks, fine. Believe it or not, I'm a traditional guy, and that works for me. BUt it's like we're in the 1960's of publishing: "Hey, if it feels good, self-publish your ebook! No one cares! Do your own thing! Down with publishers, man! Fight the power! Self-e-publish!"

And everyone's doing that, left and right, and, sorry...that just doesn't feel right to me. BUT, with a handful of big names doing it also and telling everyone else they should do it or they're dummies, I feel old before my time, and fear being left behind in the self-e-publishing dust as that old "stick in the mud" who prefers the traditional method and WANTS a gatekeeper's approval.

That's part of the reason - well, a big reason - I participated in the Coffin Hop this year. It was FUN. Remember that word? I blogged almost every day about cool stuff that I liked, and people posted comments and we interacted and stuff (note to self: maybe I should gave away free stuff more often). It was fun. I had fun blogging about my Halloween memories, and the people who posted comments seemed to have fun.

Fun.

Remember fun?

Anyway, for the newbies following this blog now because of Coffin Hop, please don't be put off by the whining. It's not always like that around here, but fair warning, this has become my stress relief valve, so whining does happen occasionally. But anyway, thanks again for having me on the Coffin Hop; it was fun.

Which is hard to remember, sometimes. Because that's why I started to write in the first place, yeah? Because I liked it. It was fun.

And for me, writing really needs to become fun again.

Soon.

Winners of Coffin Hop Contests, Halloween Retrospective - Part 1

2011-11-01T04:13:00.000-07:00

Sadly, Halloween is over. Just like Christmas, it always passes through too quickly, and really.... Christmas has the advantage, because it pretty much lasts from Christmas Eve all the way through New Years, when you think about it. Halloween - a one night affair that ends all too soon.

Anyway, I've got lots of thoughts to share about Halloween, dressing up for school - which I did for the first time this year - my first Coffin Hop, and some other things. BUT, before I get to all that, which I'll probably post about later this week, it's time to name some winners and give out some free stuff (and yes, it goes without saying a lot of these winners were chosen arbitrarily, after a fashion. Just the nature of the thing...). And, all winners, sometime this day I'll email you directly, asking for snail mail addresses and such.

So, without further ado:

Share your own "ghost story." And win "Five Strokes to Midnight."

Winner: Nora B. Peevy, for her creepy story about a haunted motel.

Who best supports your Halloween fix? And Win William Peter Blatty's "The Exorcist" & "Legion".

Winner: Julie Jansen, because you had me at "My mom read me Joyce Carol Oates"...

Best NON-Halloween, Autumnal Memory. And Win Brian Keene.

Winner: Rabid Fox, for his VERY Oxrun Station moment about the band that didn't exist....

Most Awkward. Costume. Ever. And Win Christopher Golden.

Winner: DEFINITELY JameyW's Green Hulk grease costumes!

And, last but not least:

What's Your Favorite Halloween Memory? And Win Nate Southard.

Winner: Jeanette Jackson's surprise gorilla!

Those of you whom I didn't contact - don't have email addresses - please email me post-haste at kevin.lucia at gmail dot com with your snail mail address, and I'll send your prizes out. Thanks for playing, all! Will have more to post later this week...

Coffin Hop 2011, Day Six: Share your own "ghost story." And win "Five Strokes to Midnight."

2011-10-29T04:07:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Day Six of Coffin Hop 2011. For a chance at Nate Southard's He Stepped Through, visit Monday's blog. For a chance to win an ARC of Chris Golden's short story collection, The Secret Backs of Things, visit Tuesday's blog. For a chance to win The Cage and The Last Zombie, both by Brian Keene, visit Wednesday's blog. For a chance to win the Cemetery Dance ARC of William Peter Blatty's The Exorsist and Legion, visit Thursday's Blog.

So. We're all writers and lovers of the spooky things that go bump in the night. And that's part of what Halloween is all about. But how many of us have experienced ACTUAL spooky moments ourselves? Had our own "spooky" moment, when we heard something go "bump" in the night?

Believe it or not, I used to be a huge science fiction fan. Loved my Issac Asimov, ate up my Star Wars and Star Trek novels like they were candy. And, because of that, I wanted to write science fiction, too. My first - and forever to be unpublished (because it SUCKS) - novel was part one of an epic science fiction space opera trilogy. The next Issac Asimov, I was going to be.

Then, I had an experience. A brief brush with something....else...that changed my perspective. Now, I'm going to cheat a little, and direct you to an article I wrote for Flames Rising, detailing this experience. Suffice to say, it involved an old, broken down Victorian home in the middle of an abandoned corn field. Afterwards, I decided that things lurking in the shadows here on our OWN world were far more interesting than aliens and space ships, and I wanted to write about THAT, instead.

SO. Not exactly a ghost story, but a brush with something distinctly abnormal. Do you have any ghostly, spooky stories that serve as your inspiration? Or simple a brush with the abnormal that left you shaking...just a bit...even if the sun hung high in the sky at noon?

For the offering today is Five Strokes to Midnight, a collection offering the likes of Gary Braunbeck, Chris Golden, Tom Piccirilli, Debeorah LeBlanc, and Hank Schwable. Here's the description:

Five Strokes to Midnight features multiple, all-new works from Bram Stoker Award-winner Christopher Golden, Bram Stoker Award-winner Gary Braunbeck, Bram Stoker Award-winner Tom Piccirilli, southern gothic sensation Deborah LeBlanc, and hard-hitting newcomer Hank Schwaeble. Each writer offering approximately 20,000 words of fiction -- comprising at least two stories per author inspired by a theme of the author's own choosing. For this first volume, readers can look forward to multiple tales on the subject of Folklore (Golden), Hauntings (Braunbeck), Loss (Piccirilli), Curses (LeBlanc), and Demons (Schwaeble).

So. How about it. Some real life scary stories, anyone....?

Coffin Hop 2011, Day Four: Who best supports your Halloween fix? And Win William Peter Blatty's "The Exorcist" & "Legion".

2011-10-27T04:28:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Day Four of Coffin Hop 2011. For a chance at Nate Southard's novella, He Stepped Through, visit Monday's blog. For a chance to win an ARC of Chris Golden's Cemetery Dance short story collection, The Secret Backs of Things, visit Tuesday's blog. For a chance to win The Cage and The Last Zombie, both by Brian Keene, visit yesterday's blog.

Every Halloween, I'm always thankful that my wife totally throws her weight behind the holiday and goes out of her way to make it special for the whole family.

She decorates (though she does this for every holiday), gets into the kids' costumes, tolerates my love of it - being totally okay with the idea of me dressing up, even though this is the first year I'm doing it in a while - we read the kids Halloween books, have the Halloween countdown calendar with a pocket containing a prize for every day, we get into our Jack O'Lanterns, (having developed a routine, every year, of going to get the pumpkins a few weeks ahead) and we'll do the old fashioned Trick-or-Treating (not this Trunk or Treat business) to family and friends' houses Halloween night.

Now, you might think this isn't a big deal. Most mothers are okay with Halloween, making holidays special in their home, right? But, like me, my wife is a Christian. And among some Christians - Halloween's a big "no-no". Based on old, evil pagan holiday, and all that. Celebrating Halloween is right up there with offering your kids hard liqour, according to some of the more fundamentalist folks.

Now, I don't get into matters of religion much - at all, really - on this blog, and I only converse about our faith as it plays out in our family's journey. But I can't tell you how happy I am that my wife - Christian, like myself - isn't one of those folks who frown on Halloween's origins, or wrings her hands over such a "death and fear-oriented holiday".

Does Halloween have pagan roots? Sure it does (So does your Christmas trees and wreaths, by the way). It was incorporated into the Catholic Church's tradition with All Saints Day, or All Hallow's Eve. But for kids, it's the chance to wear cool costumes, get candy, and simply experience something different and special, and let's face it: something spooky-cool, with the night, and the glowing jack-o-lanterns.

Abby is a wonderful Christian wife who makes Halloween special for all of us. I'm thankful for TONS of things my wife does (more than I can name here), but during Halloween, I'm always thankful my wife more than tolerates it, she makes it special for the whole family. Of course, that's just the way she is. Halfway through November, the Thanksgiving decorations will be up, next.

So that's today's "contest": who has supported your Halloween fix the most? Are there any stories in particular, in which a family member or spouse or someone special stepped up to the plate and really supported your Halloween fix? Up for the offering today is a Cemetery Dance ARC of two-novels in one, The Excorcist and Legion, by William Peter Blatty. No description of this needed, I don't suppose...

Coffin Hop 2011, Day Three: Best NON-Halloween, Autumnal Memory. And Win Brian Keene..

2011-10-26T04:12:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Day Three of Coffin Hop 2011. For a chance at Nate Southard's novella, He Stepped Through, visit Monday's blog. For a chance to win an ARC of Chris Golden's Cemetery Dance short story collection, The Secret Backs of Things, visit yesterday's blog.

My memories of fall as a kid aren't all wrapped up in Halloween. Actually, I've lots of memories that center more on autumn itself, which always served as precursors to Halloween, harbingers that the best dark and spooky time of the year was well on its way.

Wooly-bear caterpillars. Brilliant colors in the trees. Raking said leaves into huge piles. And, best of all...our basketball court-sized garden dying, because that provided PLENTY of amusement. Old gourds no good for cooking, now rotten and ready to burst, which made GREAT bombs to chuck around the garden. Lots of fun, watching them things burst apart.

Probably the best memory I have of tearing down the garden after harvest is reaping all the old corn stalks. My dad always grew ROWS and ROWS of corn, and when all the ears had been picked, those stalks made GREAT "planks" for anything from lean-to's, tee-pees and forts of all kinds.

Sure, they were a little dusty, got damp and a little moldy after awhile, and, yeah...buggy, too. But for a kid, they offered limitless possibilities when it came to building stuff. Nothing like having a fort or a secret place to hide in that YOU built, with your very own hands.

And that's when we knew Halloween lurked around the corner. When wooly-bear caterpillars were out, leaves were turning color, and we were building forts and tee-pees with all the cornstalks pulled up from the garden. We were ALWAYS hiding in those things. I remember once getting yelled at in the morning before school, because I'd been in the backyard, playing in mine, lost track of time, while the school bus sat idling out by the driveway.

So. Autumn isn't just about Halloween. Lots of great other memories about Fall, too. Share 'em if you got em, and up for the offering today: a Brian Keene two-fer, The Cage, (Cemetery Dance), his sold-out novella, and an unopened, unread, first issue of his comic series through Anarctic Press, The Last Zombie. Descriptions below.

For the employees of Big Bill's Home Electronics, it's just the end of another workday - until a gunman bursts into the store and begins shooting. Now, with some of their co-workers dead, the hostages are being slaughtered one-by-one, and if they want to survive the night, they'll have to escape... The Cage.

Follow the frantic journey of Doctor Ian Scott, a man seeking his one ray of hope in a post-apocalyptic nightmare United States. The zombies have come and (mostly) gone, but the disease is still out there, threatening the survivors. The country swarms with roving packs of wild animals—and worse, desperate humans—ready to do whatever it takes to survive. Through it all, one man must drive from Colorado to New York to reunite with the woman he loves...before it's too late for either of them!

Hey-up....hit me up with those crisp, apple-cider spiced autumn memories...

Coffin Hop 2011, Day Two: Most Awkward. Costume. Ever. And Win Christopher Golden.

2011-10-25T04:11:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Day Two of Coffin Hop 2011. For a full explanation of what that is, see this post. Also, for a chance at Nate Southard's limited edition novella, He Stepped Through, visit yesterday's blog and share your best-favorite-most vivid Halloween memory ever.

SO, we've all had the awkward costumes, I imagine. Ideas that just didn't pan out the way we'd hoped. Now, this is going to crossover a little with yesterday's post for most vivid memories (see entry about the blue grease paint), but seeing as how it's a little more specific, I'm gonna run with it. Most Awkward. Costume. EVER.

My most awkward costume ever came when I was about twenty-six or so. Friends of my then-fiance, but NOT the girl I ended up marrying (another story for another time), decided to have a grown-up Halloween costume party (notice I didn't say "ADULT" Halloween party. But I digress). Seemed like a good idea in theory. The guys planning it were real wild cards, and we figured on one heck of a time.

Eh...not so much. Turns out EVERYONE had thought it'd be a good idea in theory, but when we got there, no one exactly knew what to do. We all sat around in a basement den, dressed as cats and vampires and zombies and whatever, just doing...nothing. I think Monster Mash was playing in the background, and I ALSO remember the dish someone had made: a clever little ice cream cake with crushed Oreo toppings to make it look like gravel, IE. kitty litter, AND, you guessed it: clumps of a brown substance that looked VERY much like cat droppings, but were really taffy and chocolate.

As it happened, our host had a little too much fun pretending he was eating cat poo. Also, another story for another time.

Anyway, I decided that year to dress as Brandon Lee's The Crow. Got the white face-paint, black eye paint, all black outfit with combat books, trench coat, and a black stringy wig. Problem is, it'd been several years since The Crow had hit the theaters, and apparently, not many people remembered it. Also, Brandon Lee was a lithe, wiry guy. Me, not so much, with the big broad shoulders and chest. SO, instead of looking like this:

I looked like this:

So yeah, okay, I guess I looked a little like the wrestler Sting, pretty intimidating and all...but really totally not what I was going for. AND, for my weapon of choice, I picked a battle axe from the dollar store. Who KNOWS why.

No one knew who I was supposed to be. One guy said "Psycho axe murder". Then, when I tried to explain about Brandon Lee and the Crow, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Oh. Missed that movie." At least my buddy did better. He wore a simple white karate gi, and everyone said: "Hey! You're the Karate Kid, aren't you?"

His name was even Dan.

Anyway, chalk up one AWKWARD Halloween costume that just didn't pan out. So, my request for today? Your - or someone else's - most AWKWARD Halloween costume. If you've got photos, even better. Up for the offering today: the ARC (advance reading copy) of The Secret Backs of Things, Christopher Golden's short story collection, published by Cometary Dance. Description below:

A wide-ranging author of horror, YA, and comic books, Golden presents 18 striking short stories from all facets of the dark fantastic, accompanied by intriguing authorial afterthoughts and Glenn Chadbourne's unsettling mythic illustrations. Golden's first published story, "One," provides backstory to his Shadow Saga (Of Saints and Shadows, etc.). In "Pa-Kow," a youngster's shoot-'em-up game dooms him to disaster. The long out-of-print "The Shell Collector" pays homage to relatives who loved the sea's eternal mysteries. "Burning Questions" and "The Urge," replete with explicit nastiness, unmask the strange unconscious urges deep beneath human personalities. "Venus and Mars" is a savage denunciation of child molesters. The scorching "Pyre" mixes ancient Viking echoes with a Freudian Electra complex.

And, don't forget....you can still toss your hat in the ring for Nate Southard's limited edition novella, He Stepped Through.

So. Awkward costume attempts....?

Coffin Hop 2011, Day One: What's Your Favorite Halloween Memory? And Win Nate Southard.

2011-10-23T23:54:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Day One of Coffin Hop 2011. For a full explanation of what that is, see yesterday's post. In short, it's a blog tour of over 90 horror authors blogging about Halloween, horror, Horrorween, and anything in between. We're all offering tons of few stuff, too, so come along and play!

Anyhoo. Memories of Halloween. Honestly, most of my childhood Halloween memories blur together. I remember images, mostly. Of dark, autumn nights and looming, blue-black skies. Of blazing Jack-O-Lanterns and houses decked out in all manner of spookery. And of course, the never ending parade of costumes.

One year I was Frankenstein. Another year, I was a skeleton which, worked out really well, because I broke my wrist that year, so the cast fit in with my skeleton outfit nicely. Also, in a stab against political correctness, one year I was a "little Indian", which was especially cool, because it was my dad's costume when he was a kid.

And of course, I remember the candy. Boy HOWDY, do I remember the candy.

The most vivid Halloween memory I have, though was of a movie I ended up watching one Halloween night. When my sister and I got older, our family used to stop at a close friend's home when our Trick-or-Treating was finished for the evening. It was kinda cool, because when we got home - if on a school night - we really didn't have time to sort through our candy and trade our wares between us for our favorites. Plus, these folks had a game room: pool table, dart board and some other cool stuff.

One year, however, my sister and I ended up in the den, for some reason, counting our candy while our parents visited with their friends in the dining room. On TV was a movie. And honestly...it totally blew my mind. Scared the heebie-jeebies out of me. Wasn't a "horror" movie, exactly, or about Halloween or demons or monsters or ANYTHING like that.

It was Saturn 3.

See, the movie threw me. Started out a sci fi flick, right? By the time we were rolling, however...a murderous, homicidal cyborg powered by a whole buncha human brains is hunting down two hapless scientists stranded on a moon base. I'm not sure what freaked me out more - the whole "brains in a canister" thing, or this one scene in which the cyborg butchers a little dog for fun - but whatever it was, that night is practically the ONLY Halloween night of my childhood that really, vividly stands out.

Now, I've never seen the movie since. Mostly, I'm afraid it won't inspire the same chills it did that night, the memory won't come near the way I remember it. But, I can honestly say it was my first brush with the concept of "horror"...and it wasn't necessarily bloody and gory or anything like that, and you didn't see the human brains stacked inside this thing so much. You just knew they were there. And that, my friends, for this former ten year old, was quite enough, thanks very much.

So, today's "contest". Share with me in the comments your most VIVID - Strange - Memorable - Fantastic - Frightening Halloween memory. I'll pick one as the winner (and it goes without saying, this whole thing is kinda arbitrary, no way around that), and the winner will be posted November 1st, over at the Coffin Hop blog.

Here's what's up for grabs today: He Stepped Through, (Bloodletting Press), by Nate Southard, which was limited to only 300 signed and numbered perfect bound paperbacks.

One gray morning, the words appear everywhere: on the lips of the men shooting up an inner city burger joint, scrawled across a bloody crime scene, and written on the wall of the only occupied apartment in a downtown slum. In the space of a single day, they infected Los Angeles. Crooked detective Walker wants to know what the words mean. Officer Megan Ricks can t get the words out of her head. Gang-banger 2Bit wants to get as far away from the words as possible. But the words can t be escaped. They're written in violence, and promise terror. When their meaning becomes clear, no one will be safe.

And of course, there's always a copy of Hiram Grange & The Chosen One, up for grabs over at Goodreads...but a note, you DO have to be a Goodreads members to enter:

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Hiram Grange and the Chosen One

by Kevin Lucia

Giveaway ends October 31, 2011.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

There you go, folks. Hit me with those Halloween night memories...

Free Books An' Stuff: Coffin Hop 2011

2011-10-23T05:43:00.000-07:00

So, in the spirit of all things spooky and Halloween, this year I'll be participating in the Coffin Hop Horror Web Tour. This whole week, until Halloween Day, over 90 horror authors will be promoting and Facebooking and Tweeting and what-not about the Coffin Hop. EVERYONE is going to be giving away prizes from their blogs, so it's going to be a great chance to win some free horror/Halloween goodness.

And here, my friends, the gifts are going to be bounteous, indeed. Every day this week until Halloween, I'll blog about Halloween, horror-related stuff: favorite Halloween memories, books, movies...etc. There will be several ways of winning. First, the easy, non-effort requiring method of registering to win:

1. Enter my Goodreads Giveaway for a signed copy of Hiram Grange & The Chosen One: (not approved yet, but will be shortly)

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Hiram Grange and the Chosen One

by Kevin Lucia

Giveaway ends October 31, 2011.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

2. I'm going to have daily "competitions" here on my blog, with a winner each day. The prizes - books - are going to range from the following:

He Stepped Through, (Bloodletting Press), by Nate Southard

Five Strokes To Midnight, (Haunted Pelican Press), by Tom Piccirilli, Gary Braunbeck, Deborah LeBlanc, Hank Schwaeble, Christopher Golden

Riding the Bullet: A Mick Garris Screenplay (Lonely Road Books - ARC), by Stephen King and Mick Garris

The Exorcist & Legion, (Cemetery Dance ARC), by William Peter Blatty

The Cage, (Cemetery Dance), by Brian Keene & The Last Zombie, (Arctic Press), by Brian Keene, Issue #1

Waiting for October, (Dark Arts Books), by Jeff Strand, Adam Pepper, Sarah Pinborough, Jeffery Thomas

The Secret Back of Things, (Cemetery Dance ARC), by Christopher Golden

Now, what if (odder things have happened) folks would rather have the chance to win something written by me? That's easy enough. For these daily contests, the winner can swap any of these prizes out for my novella, an installment in Shroud Publishing's Hiram Grange Chronicles, Hiram Grange & The Chosen One, plus I'll throw in a free copy of something else of mine, too.

The winners are going to be posted, I believe, on the Coffin Hop blog November 1st. A note to Coffin Hop participants: unless I absolutely get no other posters, no repeat gifts. So you're welcome to enter multiple days, because the winners won't be announced until November 1st, but unless I have a day in which a previous winner is the ONLY entry, then only one prize per "customer", and no repeat winners.

So. Shall we begin with best, favorite, most memorable, coolest Halloween memories, tomorrow? Up for grabs: He Stepped Through, (Bloodletting Press), by Nate Southard, or you can always swap out for Hiram Grange.

Hop away....

I'm Raising My Kids to Be Freaks; Or, Would You Like A Simple Life With That Dandelion Wine?

2011-10-22T05:33:00.000-07:00

First, this:

Hesitantly, Grandfather, Douglas, and Tom peered through the large windowpane.

And there, in the small warm pools of lamplight, you could see what Leo Auffman wanted you to see. There sat Saul and Marshall, playing chess at the coffee table. In the dinning room Rebecca was laying out the silver. Naomi was cutting paper doll dresses. Ruth was painting water colors. Joseph was running his electric train. Through the kitchen door, Lena Auffman was sliding a pot roast from the steaming oven. Every hand, head, every mouth made a big or little motion. You could hear their faraway voices under glass. You could hear someone singing in a high sweet voice. You could smell bread baking, too, and you knew it was real bread that would be soon be covered with real butter. Everything was there and it was working.

Grandfather, Douglas, and Tom turned to look at Leo Auffman, who gazed serenely through the window, the pink light on his cheeks.

"Sure," he murmured. "There it is." And he watched with a now gentle sorrow and now-quick delight, and at last quiet acceptance as all the bits and pieces of this house mixed, settled, poised, and ran steadily again. " The Happiness Machine," he said. "The Happiness Machine."

We're currently reading this in my sophomore honors English class. We haven't had our first discussion yet, so we'll see how it goes. I'm really hoping that at least half of them will "get it" (because, as I've found over 11 years of teaching, you'll never have everyone in class love every book you teach. Often splits down the middle), because these kids are living in such a time of change, that very soon, things they take for granted will be utterly and completely gone.

Just like a lot of things in Dandelion Wine. That's one of the reasons why I read it every year, regardless of whether or not I teach it (also, because it's just beautiful, too). But so many things have gone away that I used to take for granted. Things have changed so much, and they'll never be the same. And while some of these changes are for the good and pretty cool...

I'm starting to really miss all the things that are gone, or missing things that aren't gone, but soon will be.

Lately, I've been feeling my age. Not physically, because I've been fortunate enough to stay healthy, keep in decent shape. (My waist and I have come to an uneasy truce, neither of us advancing much either way). Ironically, I've felt more alive and full of energy and driven these past four years than I did years prior. And - one of the big positives of teaching high school - even if I'm not exactly "cool" or "hip", I seem to still get along well with the young'uns.

But more and more lately...I don't get the world around me.

And things are going away, things I'm having a hard time letting go of.

And they're all the small, little things.

That's probably why Dandelion Wine resonates with me so much. Obviously, I don't remember the time period it took place in - the twenties - but that time resonates because it seems so much simpler. Slower. And that's what I miss most about my childhood.

Simplicity.

It's carefree slowness (ESPECIALLY over summer).

That scene above from Dandelion Wine - ah, hell. Sure, it's completely nostalgic, old fashioned, maybe what lots of folks would consider backwards. And, in a touch of modernity, there's no reason why Dad shouldn't be doing the cooking, (which I do a lot), or the girls shouldn't be playing chess or with the electric train (Madi can't wait for me to get the train set up and going). But even though I grew up in the 80's and not the 20's, that's the way life was like for me. And that's kinda how we run things around here, how I want things to be for our kids. Not exactly perfect, like in the above excerpt...but simple. Slow.

So they can be kids. For as long as they can.

But when I look around at the world - especially the kids today, teens - things seem to move a thousand miles per hour. What family does that anymore, right? What family just hangs out together like that, especially in their summers, which today, when I listen to kids tell me about their daily schedules, sound like they're jam packed full of so many "THINGS" to do they never get a moment to breathe? And that makes me think of what the world will be like for MY kids...and I feel afraid. Not for me, because I'm adaptable and stubborn. I can stay current enough, but am stubborn enough to be "me", and that's all.

But I fear for my kids. That, despite our best efforts, their childhoods will be truncated, abbreviated...even taken away by the onward, pell-mell rush and dash of the world.

I'm sure plenty of families still raise their families simply. It just seems to be a bygone thing, though, and by raising my kids according to the Dandelion Wine model...I often wonder if they'll be freaks someday, because of how rapidly that's all changed.

But, call me old fashioned, freakish though they may seem...I think...I hope...I believe...they'll be happy. Because life gets complicated fast enough. I want my kids to at least be able to look back at childhood, and remember it as better, slower, more fun....than think of their lives as one, long, busy, insane blur.

And everyone's life is different. You can't expect everyone to raise their families the same, and I don't. Everyone has different circumstances, different methods, and I believe everyone does the best they can in those circumstances. But honestly, I'm not concerned with anyone else's family, I'm concerned about mine. And - freaks though they may become because of it - we'll always to do our best to keep things simple for our kids.

Even if the world around us isn't. And, though I WANT my kids to be their own people, to discover their own paths...hopefully, because of what Abby and I have tried to do, they'll keep at least a little of that simplicity in their lives, too.

Daddy, All My Friends Are Hitting Me....

2011-10-20T04:00:00.000-07:00

Keeping with the new trend of shorter, more informal but more frequent posts...

When it comes to horror, I find I'm not afraid so much of slavering monsters drooling mucus and ripping their poor, hapless victims limb from bloody limb, or demon-possessed serial killers mutilating and raping and hacking people to bits.

These can be great props - external manifestations of internal demons and pain, and in some cases, great fun. Hey, I did the monster killing-thing in Hiram Grange & The Chosen One, a lot of my favorite books have a fair amount of monster killing, and, let's be honest: the project I'm currently working on is FULL of monsters, both physical and supernatural. And, there's something satisfying in rooting for a plucky protagonist as they FINALLY grab that sawed-off shot gun or rip-snorting chainsaw and give the monsters a little taste of their own medicine.

But something changed when I became a parent. I became aware of more subtle, real-life, day-to-day things that scared the living daylights out of me, and concurrently, my reading tastes...and I think my writing, too, has changed with that.

For example, the other night, Zack woke up from a nightmare screaming. When Abby finally got him calmed down, asked him what the nightmare was about, he said tearfully - "All my friends are hitting me!" and even pulled up his shirt to show her.

Woa.

A four year old boy - autistic, so he struggles with coherent speech, especially when upset - very clearly saying he dreamed that all his friend were hitting him, even pulling up his shirt to show where they were hitting him.

Maybe I'm a lightweight, but that freaked me out. Big time. What's going on inside his head to make him dream that? What's happening (probably nothing) at school to make him dream that?

That same morning, as Abby was showering and I was drowsing after another morning of writing, I heard Madi start whispering over her child monitor. I was half asleep, couldn't make out what she was saying, except that it was a consistent, fuzzy murmur that rose and fell in the cadence of active communication...but I just couldn't hear what she was saying.

And also, my half-asleep mind was thinking: who is she talking to?

Now, these stories - if I ever wrote them - would STILL need some sort of foe or antagonist that can be "beaten" or at least grappled with to appeal to a wide audience. And, let's be honest, at the end of the day, I want as many folks as possible to dig my stuff. But to me, the core of those stories, should I write them, touch very deeply on common fears that affect ANY parent or guardian, whether or they're "horror" fans or not.

And, much as I loved writing Hiram and want to visit him in the future, much as I love my current project, that's more the type of stories I want to write.   Something that actually gives ME shivers down my spine, as I'm writing.

Because then, I'm not just making up a story.

I'm giving my own fears shape...and dealing with them, as writers do best.

Mr L, I've written a short story and I'm thinking of submitting it to a few magazines...

2011-10-15T04:30:00.000-07:00

When I first began teaching, my mind glowed with wondrous fantasies of what teaching high school English would be like. I was ready to conquer apathetic teen minds everywhere, show them how "cool" books and stories and poems were. I was ready to transform their lives with the power of Shakespeare, the vivid imagery of Bradbury, ready to woo them away from television and video games with the eerie resonance of Robert Frost.

And of course, I'd be loved by all for opening unto them these brand new worlds of imagination, wonder, and best of all...reading.

Also, my writing assignments would prove for them, once and for all, that they were all writers, their literary genius simply hiding inside, waiting for someone like me to burst it free. I'd eradicate the boring and trite "book reports", replace them with insightful literary critique essays and personal composition assignments, and....their own personal journal, which would set their minds afire with all the words they had been dying their whole lives to write.

Almost eleven years later, I'm much wiser. I've learned a lot. Had some unrealistic goals and dreams and aspirations crushed, yes...but I've learned that students take away almost MORE of what we are as people than what we necessarily teach them in the classroom, because, even though I HAVE taught several students who seemed grateful for the books I made them read and the essays I made them write, I've learned that, more often than not, many of my students were grateful for who I WAS, and how I treated them, than any book, poem, or essay I could have assigned.

Thus, I learned the greatest reward of teaching (also a double-edged sword): we leave thumbprints of ourselves on people. These thumbprints can stunt their growth, limit them, make them insecure...or they can help them grow. Make them realize their potential. Build them up. Make them feel worthwhile, and good.

In these eleven years, I've received several indications that I've been fortunate enough to have had at least a little impact on someone's life. One came about five years ago. One of my former junior high students actually wrote me a letter (addressed to my new job at the high school) thanking me for pounding in her head the concepts of essay structure and thesis statements, because when - at her new school - her fellow classmates were all mystified as to what these things meant and weren't faring well on state test preparations, she was excelling with flying colors, in her opinion because of my instruction. That, to this date, is one of the most powerful reminders that what I do every day in the classroom DOES make a difference. You just don't know it at the time. These things are seeds that flower down the road.

Most recently, a former student only just graduated - a member of my first Creative Writing class ever, and a fine writer at that - sent me the following message: "Mr L, I've written a short story and I'm thinking of submitting it to a few magazines. I think it's got some potential. Will you look it over for me?"

As you can imagine, I said yes, enthusiastically. A fine writer, this student is, and I'm excited to see what they've produced. Have no idea if this story will land anywhere, but because this writer has taken that first, all important leap: "I've written a short story and I'm thinking of submitting it to a few magazines" they've instantly rocketed past all the rest of the wanna-be's out there, and are now playing the game. Fighting the good fight. Trying to get published.

And it tickles me to think that maybe, just maybe...I had a little something to do with that...

So, I'm A Big Ole Reading Freak.......

2011-10-13T00:12:00.000-07:00

...in case you haven't noticed.

I love reading.

No, you don't understand. I LOOOOOVE reading. Always have. My parents are to blame, actually. They started me reading before kindergarten, and I grew into that typical adolescent that HAS to have a book in front of his face at all times. ESPECIALLY on car trips. If I got stuck on a long car ride and forgot to bring a book, it was like a class A emergency!

Once, this happened. Somehow, I'd forgotten to bring something to read on a car ride that lasted over an hour. Desperate, fifteen minutes into the ride, I turned to my sister for help.... who'd brought several of her Anne of Green Gables books.

Yeah. You guessed it.

I ended up reading almost the entire series.

By sixth grade, I'd read almost every book I wanted to read in our elementary school library ...twice. Because of this, I was given permission to walk ACROSS the parking lot with a buddy to take books out of the HIGH SCHOOL library. There, I discovered my first favorite "grown-up" author: Issac Assimov.

I spent a good portion of my summers reading.

In high school, I was allowed to stay up as late as I wanted, in my bed....reading.

In college, my love of reading exploded. All that free time. All that reading. I would spend DAYS in Barnes & Noble, reading. In fact, back when I actually had time to kill, (I.E. before children) reading used to my biggest distraction from writing. I'd have the hardest time making myself put down a book and actually start writing, I'd always tell myself: "Just one more chapter."

Reading, however, opened the floodgates for my love of writing. It was a book that spurred me to write for the first time. My senior year, some inconsequential little YA/teen sports novel called Tournament Upstarts. I loved it, (at the time, I ate, drank, breathed basketball), but the story felt unfinished at the end. Like there was more to tell. SO, I began writing a sequel.

Because I wanted to know how the story ended. So, from my love of reading sprang my first "novel" (written entirely in a Spiral-bound Mead notebook).

On college basketball road trips, I always hoarded some of my meal money to buy a book in whatever town we were visiting. This has become a habit, to this day. Whenever we go on vacation or on a trip, I'm compelled to buy a book while there...even if I already have several of my own with me.

Today, when I get a rare quiet moment - kids napping, I get home from work before everyone else - we just leave that TV off, and read.

And I read crazy fast, too. Have a book going during breakfast, a different one going before bed, and for lunch I read the novels I'm teaching. So, yeah, I really do read 4-5 different books at a time.

What can I say?

I'm a big ole reading freak...

Remind Me Why I Do This Again?

2011-10-11T00:21:00.000-07:00

Okay, so the title's a bit of a misnomer. I know why I get up every morning and do this.

I think.

So, this is part of the blog's new function: weary morning journal. A log of thoughts, no matter how scattered, tired or lame. I'll try to not to be too repetitive, but I make no promises, because in the end, this blog is very much about release, and let's be honest - sometimes, ya just gotta release the same stuff, over and over.

I think the thing that gets me the most is how, deep down, even though I'm driven each morning to get up and write, part of me wonders: if I'd known it would be like this, would I ever have started? I mean, on one hand, yes...in four/five short years, I've accomplished an awful lot. More than some folks ever accomplish.

And yet, I know I've not reached my goal. That my dream is still out there, ahead of me.

And, I've been coming to the sober realization that those dreams will probably never come to fruition.

Ever.

Because let's be painfully honest, here. I had those wild dreams, and mourn their loss, a little. Dreams of being an overnight sensation. Of magically landing a big book deal. Of writing that breathtaking novel that wins a Bram Stoker Award, first time out. Suddenly hearing my name ringing through the halls of the Horror Genre.

I read all the writer books: On Writing, Brian Keene's blog memoirs, Gary Braunbeck's To Each Their Darkness, and during my own downtimes - when I've had to walk along the highways to collect cans in order to attend Cons, watch my house fall apart around me while I jerry-rig some OTHER half-assed repair job, in my head, I've been guilty of thinking: That's okay. Someday, when I'm a big and famous writer, I'll put this all in MY writing memoir, and it'll inspire some other writer.

But, reality comes, hard enough.

There will probably be no memoir.

And who would read it, anyway?

There will be no big book deal.

I'll be lucky to land a midlist deal, honestly. If there's even a midlist left, after the publishing industry gets done exploding.

Probably will never be able to live on writing alone.

Because let's face it, I haven't got the guts to do so.

I'll never be what I DREAMED of being.

So what does that leave me with, every morning at 3 AM? The words. The story. The actual physical act of writing, from which I draw a intrinsic sort of pleasure. For an hour and half, two hours every day, I sit in my little office - surrounded by all my books and comics and useless knick-knacks that mean nothing to anyone but me - and go away somewhere, a place where I make the rules, and I write.

More and more, that's the only thing to get up for in the morning. To have that moment, that little space of time carved out for myself, where it's just me, the paper, my pen, my stuff in my office, the words, and a story no one else may ever read, but that I want to read.

Have to read.

Everything else?

Window dressing. Dross.

Which, of course, doesn't mean that I'll give up my dreams.

I'm just stubborn that way.

A Conundrum: Predictable or Unpredictable Characters?

2011-10-10T05:31:00.000-07:00

One of the hardest things, I find, is not necessarily the WRITING itself, as in the words, phrases, and clauses. That's "easy", or rather easiER than writing original characters that will act in unpredictable YET sensible, logical ways. Writing the words is a matter of drafting, redrafting and redrafting, chiseling away unneeded words like a sculptor. I read voraciously, of craftsmen whose work I adore and want to assimilate into my own craft, I edit and reedit, and have gotten a much better handle on the actual words themselves.

But making "unpredictable characters that still make sense"?

Wow. THAT I struggle with.

Probably the toughest critique I've gotten yet on a work is that its characters were "stock characters that acted in predictable ways." I have a tough time with this critique, possibly the only critique of my work I don't like. Not that I disagree. My characters probably ARE predictable. That's actually the only knock yet on my Hiram Grange installment, is that you kinda get the idea he's going to do what he can to save the girl, pretty early on in the story.

See, one of the things I HATE most as a reader...no, wait, let me restate: LOATHE WITH AN ABSOLUTE FIERY, BURNING PASSION...is when characters are made to do things so illogical, something that smacks against ALL common sense. I HATE it when it seems clear the writer is going for something "different" or "new" or "original"...especially when IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.

SO, the conundrum. Are we writing believable characters that could exist in real life, characters we can relate to, that make logical decisions based on the world they're in...or are we writing characters that provide readers with some escape, keep them guessing?

The key, of course, is "suspense of disbelief". And that all important "stasis" period at the story's start. Pull the reader in, get them to believe this character is someone who could exist, and then plunge them headlong into something fantastic and unbelievable. But even then: I'm of the old-fashioned belief, perhaps, that the decisions those characters make SHOULD MAKE SENSE. Even as a reader, I'll take that over a "crazy plot twist" any day.

And, I find as a writer, I feel the same way.

The key, I guess, is setting the "world rules" of that work, fine-tuning them and laying subtle groundwork so that in the end, a character's behavior fits. To me, a finely crafted plot twist should NOT leave me screaming and throwing the book across the room because it doesn't make any sense. It SHOULD leave me smacking my forehead, thinking: "HOLY COW! I'm such an idiot! I totally should've seen this coming back in Chapter 3 when...."

And, of course, you can't predict what every reader will do. That's impossible. That's why, for me, my characters will probably always be a tad predictable, because if it's one thing you CAN'T predict, it's readers, and what they will or won't like.

Which is probably why I've taken so long to write things, lately. Yes, I do want them new and exciting and fresh and original. But to ME, at least...this stuff has to make sense. It has to all fit.

And THAT takes a really long time. Not something you can churn out in a month or so.

In Which the Writer Returns Home to Harpursville

2011-10-09T16:33:00.000-07:00

You can go home again, actually.

If you're strong enough.

Because ghosts of all kinds haunt the paths you used to roam. Not necessarily ghosts of malevolence or harm (though you might run into those, also), but mostly ghosts of remembrance and nostalgia.

Ghosts of dreams and nightmares, triumphs and failures.

Of days well spent with friends long moved on, ghosts of lost loves.

Ghosts of enemies, too.

Lurking in all the familiar places.

Ghosts on the sidewalks, in empty buildings formerly general stores and teen hangouts, on fields of former football glory, on the street corner, in darkened, empty school corners, swinging on the swings and clambering high on the old, wood and stone playground sets that were long ago replaced by SAFE, brightly colored plastic ones.

Ghosts. Think of it, and those of you handy with physics can probably take it to mind-bending heights: every place you've left a foot print, grabbed something, jumped over, hid behind...walked on...you've left something behind. Even if only a piece of your spirit.

Probably why so many writers end up writing about their hometowns. Or at least, start out trying to, early in their careers. I know I did, but eventually put it aside in favor of other projects, because quite simply...

I wasn't ready.

Was too close to it. Because, as expressed very eloquently by award winning and wonderfully talented author Gary Braunbeck in his memoir on the craft To Each Their Darkness (which all horror writers should buy RIGHT NOW), "good fiction doesn't give a damn how it REALLY happened."

In other words...writing about something close to us CAN produce very powerful, emotional work. But if it's TOO close to us...we fall prey to FORCING the story to play out EXACTLY as the incident/memory that inspired it, which usually doesn't make for good, entertaining fiction. So I've left off writing about home, for a real long time.

Until now.

Two incidents: recently, when driving to my Dad's, I took the back, slow way. My parents live right off the highway, so if I want, I can skip all sorts of hallmarks of home and just fly right there. This time, I was on my own...so I took my time.

Trundled up Route 7, through Sanitaria Springs. Soaked in the memories. Worked at my Dad's - it was just him and I and Mom - which hasn't happened in I DON'T know when. The entire time there, my mind literally GLOWED with the past.

And something powerful came over me. A memory of something that happened my 8th grade year - not to me, really. But something PROFOUND. Something I lingered on the edge of, something that SHOULD have hit me like a hammer blow, but somehow...somehow....

It didn't.

Until that day, at my parents, twenty-three years later.

And I knew I had to write about it. And, almost instantly, the story literally SPRANG into my head, in a way that allowed ALL the emotions hiding in there to explode...but in an original creation, all my own.

Second incident: today, Madi had a soccer game in Harpursville...THE place. My hometown. As I drove into town, taking the same route my bus did for eighteen years...memories and ghosts assaulted me. Tightened my chest, snatched my breath from my throat. After her game, I felt compelled to drive around town and snap photos. That's when I knew.

I was ready to write this story. I jotted down an entire, complete outline back when it first hit me, but I put it aside for awhile, to simmer. But now...I think I'm ready.

Which is so awesome. Because that tight chest, hitched breath, crowding ghosts?

That's one of the best reasons of all to write.

To give those ghosts voice.

And rest.

Enjoy the pictures.

If In Wilkes-Barre, PA...Come See Me Around 2:00 PM!

2011-10-08T01:53:00.000-07:00

From 2 Pm to 5PM, I'll be at the 6th Annual Horror Halloween Book Signing at the Wilkes-Barre, PA Barnes & Noble, along with authors Lorne Dixon, Karen Koehler, KendallPhillips, Eileen Watkins and Screem magazine editor Darryl Mayeski.

I'll have copies of Hiram Grange & The Chosen One, Abominations: 17 Tales of Murderous Monsters (which contains my story "Water God of Clarke Street") and several copies of last year's Halloween issue of Shroud, Issue #10, which is filled with Halloween goodness courtesyof Rio Youers, Kelli Owen, Bob Ford, Alethea Kontis, Dan Keohane,Thomas Philips/Phillip Tomasso III, Libby Tucker, Scott Christian Carr, Jodi Lee, Lisa Mannetti, Norman Partridge, Nick Grabowsky, and many more.

So, we'll be at:

Barnes & Noble - Wilkes-Barre

The Arena Hub

421 Arena Hub Plaza

Wilkes-Barre, PA 18702

Hope to see some folks there!

Some time ago, in a land not so far away at all....

2011-10-07T04:51:00.000-07:00

...there was a young writer, primarily published in the small press, who was entertaining the relatively new dream of writing Teen Paranormal Fiction/Fantasy. I mean, this young writer had sorta thought about writing Teen Fiction before, because he'd spent a good chunk of his life teaching teens, and it also seemed like lots of his favorite writers had penned a teen novel or two in recent years, so why not him?

But he'd never really seriously pursued this until he managed his way into discussions with a senior acquisitions editor at a major New York Publishing house. And though by no means did this writer think he'd found a loop-hole and an "easier" way into New York publishing through the YA/Teen market, he pursued this opportunity with gutso. It was, after all, a major New York house, and he figured it'd be foolish to pass up the chance.

And, lo and behold, despite the current cadre of folks who keep prophesying the doom of New York Publishing and decrying all New York editors as short-sighted morons who don't really know anything about writing, this writer had a wonderful experience working with this editor, who nudged him in different directions, pointed out some flaws, and proved himself/herself to be professional and knowledgeable on all fronts.

AND, though this editor passed because he/she didn't think they were the ones to deal with such a fantasy-laden series, this editor referred this small press writer to four top-shelf YA/Teen agents, with the blessing of dropping their name. SO, this small press writer - digging on his dreams of breaking into New York Publishing - sent his pitch to one of those agents.

That agent was quick, professional, helpful and courteous. He/she passed on the project, and made this rather insightful statement:

"the actual manuscript of thefirst book feels like an adult horror novel and not enough likecommercial YA paranormal fiction..."

Which of course, gave this smallpress...and adult horror writer...some pause.

Made him wonder if he was trying toohard to push himself into another mold for an - albeit, valid andsolid - opportunity that maybe just wasn't the right fit for him.

Now, this writer isn't done. There arestill several other agents on that list, and as this agent pointedout, publishing is a VERY subjective business. So this intrepid - and maybe thickheaded and stubborn - small press writer plugs on. BUT....massive food for thought.

Because hey, you know what they say:Know thyself....

Sometimes, this is just how I feel about it...

2011-10-06T09:49:00.000-07:00

Just stole this from author Maurice Broaddus's website. It sums up my conflicted feelings about blogging perfectly....

See you here tomorrow...

What We Pass On To Our Kids....

2011-10-05T00:16:00.000-07:00

The other day, my wife walks downstairs after reading to Madi before bed and says with a wry smile, "That child is SO your kid."

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"I just read her a Transformers book. I mean, what six year old girl wants a Transformers book read to them? YOUR six year old girl. You'd think maybe she'd want to hear something about animals, Barbie dolls....but noooo. Our daughter wants to hear stories about warring alien robots that turn into cars and things."

It offers a chuckle, but also a sober reality check. We pass lots of things on to our kids physically: genetic traits, physical traits, height, weight, etc. A lot of times proclivities and habits. Madi and I are suckers for anything crunchy (IE. snack foods), sour (we both love to drink pickle juice), and we sit the same, stand the same, even have the same mannerisms. The other day, Madi calmly told me in a discussion, "That's PRECISELY what I'm talking about, Daddy."

Now, a little explanation: over the summer, Madi and I discovered the awesomeness of the HUB channel. Plays old, "off the air" cartoons like the original Transformers, G. I. Joe, Conan the Adventurer, JEM, etc. And, though she definitely is a JEM fan (what girl would pass up a show about a do-gooding maybe alien glam-girl rock star with pink hair? Apparently the pink hair was the deal sealer...), Madi has become an avid fan of G. I. Joe, as mentioned Transformers, and, amazingly enough...Conan the Adventurer (although, again...I highly suspect that's because Conan's on right before JEM).

Of course, she didn't just HAPPEN to start watching these and like them instinctively. I sat down and started watching them myself, with the comment: "Wow. This is awesome. Daddy grew up on these cartoons."

And TA-DA! A fan of retro cartoons was born.

Now, Madi does share my tastes for anything "different" and "out there." Predictably, she's a HUGE Dr. Seuss fan. But the kicker here is she saw me do something, heard me pass my approval on it...and she went right ahead and appropriated this thing, and assimilated it into her life.

Cause hey...kids copy us. Especially OUR kids. That's why the old "do as I say not as I do" rarely, if ever works, and if you think it does work...it's a sham. Because let's be honest: our kids will do what we do. Almost every time. That's why the old adage still proves true: "actions speak louder than words".

I try to do as much as I can with Madi. Play with her. Read to her. Just hang out with her, and chat with her. So because of this, she's decided that Daddy is worthy of imitation. This, at once, is humbling, awe-inspiring - definitely flattering - and incredibly FRIGHTENING.

On a humorous note, I had to adjust my dinner habits this summer, make sure I always ate veggies at dinner, because quite simply if I ate them, the kids would. Again, a funny story, but it makes you wonder...not without a heavy gram of seriousness...

What ELSE about me are they going to copy someday? And will those be good things?

And will I ever come to a point in which I have to GIVE UP something, so they won't do it?

Hmmmm....

Sometimes, Ya Just Gotta Fight Your Way Through...

2011-10-04T00:07:00.000-07:00

Some mornings I bounce out of bed. Others - like this morning - I have to sit there on the bed's edge, slowly pull all the pieces together, limp out to the kitchen, zombie my way through breakfast,then make myself go down to my office and bang out at least fourpages. Some mornings - a lot of times - this isn't nearly astorturous, and quite often very fun, actually.

Some more mornings, however, it's afight. One I usually win. But it's a tough one. A real tough one. Mornings like this one, part of me really wants to quit. Would be so mucheasier if I could just sleep in and leave off this whole "writing"dream. Simpler. And I'd get lots more rest.

But I can't. Something inside me justwon't let go. And that's probably the only thing right now I canlatch on to that defines me as a "writer". The days thatare easy and it's fun and the words are flowing and the story iscrystal clear in my head - wonderful. But if all days were like thatfor everyone who tried to write, well...everybody would be a writer. Because who wouldn't want to do something that was easy and fun andso empowering, all the time.

It's the days when my brain feels likethick sludge, I can't keep my eyes open, the publishing industryseems like a vast, decrepit wasteland and my words useless but Istill MUST get up and write SOMETHING that makes me awriter. The continual, never-ending fight to go on.

Sometimes, ya just gotta fight through it, to the other side. Because you're a writer. And if fighters fight, then writers write, and writers, very often, gotta fight to write (and I could throw a Beastie Boys reference in there, but I'll pass). Early morning writing philosophy, courtesy of ROCKY. And, of Ira Glass, with the following advice, which I stole and shared on Facebook last night, and what I leave you with this morning....

"Nobodytells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. Allof us who do creative work, we get into it because we have goodtaste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you makestuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it haspotential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got youinto the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your workdisappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, theyquit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work wentthrough years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this specialthing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you arejust starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know itsnormal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work.Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish onestory. It is only by going through a volume of work that you willclose that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. AndI took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve evermet. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’vejust gotta fight your way through."

— IraGlass

Time to go fight my way through, and close that gap.

A Break-neck pace...

2011-10-03T00:04:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this first thing after waking, so the quality may be sketchy. But then again, they're supposed to replace sketchy Facebook status updates, so maybe that'll work. We'll see...

I'm reading Totentanz, by Al Sarrantonio; a pretty standard horror novel about an evil carnival come to a small country town, and all the souls it's thirsting after. As usual, these souls - townspeople - have gaping holes inside themselves, weaknesses ALA 'Salem's Lot, that this carnival is hoping to take advantage of.

So here's the thing: I started it yesterday, and rocketed to page 113...all in one day.

Now, granted. I don't have much of a "life", I'm a reading freak as it is, and every spare moment I have when I'm not doing something or playing with the kids, I'm reading. But still. Gotta figure the author is doing SOMETHING right when you blast through 113 pages in one day. And it's not like Sarrantonio writes childish, trite prose.

But it's smooth. Balanced. Flows very well. And whatever he's done with this story, the suspense and pacing are perfect, don't let up for a second...even with several flashbacks folded in.

I want to do that.

I want my stories to do that. I want the prose so smooth it flows like melted butter, and I want a story that doesn't let up, ever. As a reader, I appreciate lush novels that take a while to read - just finished one, Riders of the Purple Sage. Description was so vivid and detailed, it demanded me to take my time, soak up every precious word.

As a writer, though?

I want my prose to be solid. Maybe even "artistic". I want to write meaningful stories with substance.

But, geez. I want my stories to move, baby. Because that's what keeps folks comin' back for more....

Okay. Breakfast and Black & Orange by Benjamin Kane Ethridge, then down to the Bat Cave to do my thing....