My new book is out and getting some great feedback. Right now, I really want to just get it out there more. I want to get this book in as many hands as possible. I just don’t know how to do it. I’m not a marketing guru and I certainly not a salesman. Hell, I’m an awkward glance away from being a recluse, three inches of beard away from being a hermit. So how should I go about getting this book out there?
I’ve decided a teaser is in order. The segment below is from chapter 1 It is where I introduce Angel, perhaps my favorite character I’ve ever written about.
So Dustin, after Israel fell and the virus spread (we call it a virus, everyone does, but the general public has no clue what it is. I am a part of the clueless general public.) said to me, “We need to start preparing to protect ourselves. We need to be ready for it when it hits state side.”
I agreed whole heartedly and got up to get another Grande Skinny Caramel Macchiato with soy. When I returned, Dustin was gone. Angle was sitting where he had been. Angle is a sweet girl, but not a girl I or anybody had ever been sweet on, if you know what I mean. She is a Chinese American. Her face is Chinese (these are her words, her joke, not mine. I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t how she described herself.), but her body was all American. Angle wasn’t round; she was a rhombus cube, like an eight-sided D&D dice. She often described herself as the square peg. Her real name was Angela, but she got the nickname Angle back when we were in college. I was pursuing a history degree, Dustin was pursuing media communications, and Angle was pursuing teaching and became a geometry teacher at a nearby high school. Now Angle has two meanings. Go figure. Irony was so much better before the zombies. Now nobody takes time to appreciate the ironic.
“Nobody takes time to appreciate the ironic anymore,” I said.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Angle can’t curse at the school, so for the first hour after arriving at the coffee shop, she is a vulgarian to make Eddie Murphy blush.
“I just told the barista that my name was Bob Upperton.”
Angle looked at me like I was dachshund pissing on her pillow. “What the fuck does that mean? Are you fucking retarded? That’s not even irony, you brainless cow fucker.” None of this was said with any malice or with any desire to offend. That’s just Angle’s way after school. She really is a sweet person.
“So how was your day?”
“Like being stuck in a colostomy bag with Gilbert Godfrey.”
That should give you a feel for the kind of story it is. Thank you for reading.
The Monk is widely regarded as one of the greatest horror novels ever. I don’t think it lived up to its reputation. I think the book shocked people back when it was written because people didn’t speak ill of monks and priests. Priests were revered as holy men. Since that time, priests have fallen from societies graces. I would sooner trust my daughter in the hands of your average beggar than with a priest (an un-average beggar). Starting the book with a view that most priests are sexual predators at the worst and sexual deviants at the best, I didn’t see anything shocking in the slightest in the entire book. I would say, if you own the book and don’t want to dredge through the entire thing, read the last 25 pages. It is the most action in the whole book and really a great ending.
The thing that struck me most was the way the book is told. The drum that is beat loudest in creative writing circles is to always show the story, not tell it. Lewis basically runs the gambit of he said-she said for the whole of the book. Styles change, and perhaps when it was written it was the style of the day, but it was a poor example of a well written book in today’s terms.
The time is finally upon us for my long awaited new book to finally launch. It is different than anything I have ever written before, and I hope everyone enjoys it, but I know not everyone will. This is a book of brutal political satires. If you are still holding to a love of Trump, you may find this is not a book for you. It may also have offensive language and ideas in it, depending upon your world views. Keep in mind that it is a comedy book about a zombie apocalypse, and only should be taken seriously as a social commentary.
Keep Your eyes open. The zombies might be coming! Or maybe not. FOX says that there are no zombies in America.
There are No Zombies in America
Even when King is off, I still find him to be the best. This one is a miss for the master. This is the second book in the Bill Hodges/Mr. Mercedes Trilogy. It is the story of Morris Bellamy, a fan of a JD Salinger type of writer, but imagine if Salinger had turned Holden Caulfield into a sell-out advertisement agent before he stopped writing. You may not be outraged by the indignation, but Bellamy was. He was driven completely insane by the idea, driven to the point of murder. Bellamy’s monomaniacal fan-boydom is the driving force behind the book. While I would say it is a miss, I enjoyed the hell out of it and would still recommend it with gusto. I look forward to reading book three.
So I have been writing.
Want to know what I have been writing? Want to? Huh? Come on, you know you want to?
Well hell, I’m going to tell you anyhow. I recently typed the end to a book about America. It is a book about America and Americans and Trump and zombies.
I wrote a book about a zombie apocalypse, but there are no zombies in the book. The book takes place in America under the rule of President Trump in a time when the zombie apocalypse has ravaged the rest of the world, but no zombies have been spotted in America. Now stop for a second and think to yourself, how would the Trump voters in your life react to such an occurrence. Yep, all of that and so much more. If you are a Trump supporter, SCREW YOU! but also think about how the foolish liberals would react in the scenario. Yep, that’s in there too.
In my frustration of the election results, I wrote this novella and had a lot of fun doing it. I plan to release it on inauguration day. Stay tuned, and be sure to nab up a copy.
I have never been a huge Koontz fan. I view Dean Koontz as the McDonalds of genre fiction. Nobody really likes it, but a lot of people go there. Or maybe Coors Light is the better comparison since Coors light can do the trick, but you aren’t going to like it while it’s going down, and you may need to chase it with whiskey just to get the burn you need. The House of Thunder is very much a Coors Light. It is a novel with promise but no punch. It has a pulse but lacks a soul. Enough mixed metaphors? Okay, then let’s talk about the book.
First let me say that if you want to read this book, I suggest you don’t. It is crap, but if you insist, then stop reading this now. I will not hold back on spoilers. Deano spoiled it enough for everyone just by writing it.
Still reading? Okay then, let’s continue. The House of Thunder is a book about a young woman that wakes up in a hospital with no knowledge of how she got there. Then she starts seeing people from her troubled past, people that murdered a childhood boyfriend. There is some wonderful scary bits in this first 100 pages, but Deano being Deano, spoiled it all to shit by having her start to uncover a conspiracy in the hospital. This fragile, emaciated woman that had just came out of a coma begins running around and seducing the doctor. Just when the whole story becomes completely unbelievable, Deano outdoes himself by having it be a town wide conspiracy. Everyone is in on it except for lover-boy Doc. Around this time you as a reader will be ready to leave the book on the transit bus for the next poor sucker to pick it up and waste several hours reading it, but I wasn’t that smart. I finished the book. Want to know the big kicker, the big surprise ending? It was Russians. Yep. Russians. Now, go read something else, something that really burns going down.
If you are looking for something original and horrifying unlike anything you have read before then The Wretched Walls is not the book you should read. It is a book of the standard haunted house variety with vengeful and lurking specters dancing through the walls and cryptic messages being found. It is, however, a lot of fun. Brian Kaufman dove into the standard haunted house story and didn’t shy away, with strange discoveries happening throughout and mysterious element building to a conclusion that is both satisfying and unclear. As someone that reads a lot of horror, The Wretched Walls was nothing new and nothing extraordinary, but as someone that writes a lot of horror, I can also appreciate the angles and methods used throughout this book to make a creepy good read. Download a copy, nestle yourself into a cozy chair, and try not to look down the dark hallway. The Wretched Walls