Catching Up on the Writering

So Kate Gosselin is “freaking out “ over her show being cancelled.

I really don’t care.  I just couldn’t come up with an intro.

Although, seriously?  She’s upset because her career has been derailed?  Watch the video.  It’s amazing how much she sounds like…well, like Kate Gosselin.  Woman’s nuttier than a can of almonds.

It’s been some time since life has allowed me the time and energy to focus on writing, as well as the myriad other projects I want to work on.  Now that I’ve left my post at The Corner Bookstore, I’m going to dive headlong into the wordy pool and see what comes of it.  The primary objective right now is to finish Book 1 in The Storyteller series, which is tentatively called The Heart of Darkness.  I should, all things being equal, complete that manuscript some time in October (preferably before I head to Richmond, Va for The James River Writers Confererence).

As I manage that daunting task, I mean to pick up the pieces of the abandoned Bookstore series of videos (newest one below) and continue building a platform with which to turn my bizzaro experiences as a bookseller into a television pilot.  Think Arrested Development meets The Office and you’ll get a decent idea. Something that allows for a good bit of insanity but is more character driven than built around the location. I hope to have a new video up every Wednesday.

Additionally, I’ll have a few posts to add to The Adventures of Ducky Thomas, including his long overdue story of traveling to New York City.  That post, for what it’s worth will be called The Massive Warship, and has an awful lot to do with his visit to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The hope with Ducky is to translate his adventures into chapter books. I think the world needs stories about an adventurous duck. Ducky agrees.

Now that Flutter is out and selling, I will be returning again to the world of Timothy Webb and telling what may, or may not, be the final book in that series. I’m rather fond of Timothy and Natasha, so I may violate ever known rule of writing just to hang on to them. In the meantime, if you haven’t already, The Christ Corporation Series has a Facebook page. Like it. I’ll be posting updates there.

Finally, staring me in the face with the depth and deadness of a salivating zombie is a story that takes the traditional Zombie Apocalypse for rocking ride where it’s never been before. Not sure yet if I want to write the novel or the screenplay, but as I have information to offer, I’ll be tossing it up here on the blog.

…of which I will be visiting more often. Obviously, right?

So with nothing in my way but myself, all of these projects will be complete or underway within the next six months.  I’m piling it on and looking forward to what comes of it.

Oh, and in the near future I’ll be looking for you to determine what absolutely ridiculous show I show blog about on a regular basis. That one is wide open.  Anything from Springer to Gossip Girl, from The View to 90210. It’s not my call. It’s yours. I’m not sure who I hope to entertain more with that, but I’m quite positive it will be me.

That said, here’s the latest in The Bookstore series, called Potter is Hotter. Time to decide between Cullen and Potter. And pretty dresses.

Countdown to Finality

So, you have 26 days left until the Rapture.  Are you ready?  Made your Rapture Party Plans yet?  Have you found a home for your pet yet (that is to say, for those of you who will be leaving us)?  Have you made your Bucket List?  Get on it people!  There isn’t time to dilly, or dally, or hesitate!

Then again, utilizing a quote I heard during my recent trip to NYC (I can’t claim right to this one, but I will use the hell out of it): “Why can’t you quit?  Jesus did.”  So, maybe you shouldn’t do anything.  Just let it happen.  Heat up some queso, prop up your feet, refuse to shower and watch 26 days of television.

Hell, forward all your bills to the people at We Can Know, seeing as how they’re so up on this whole Rapture shibang.  I mean, can’t there be some type of legal spin on making plans around their May 21st date…you know, in the unlikely event that they’re wrong?

Dammit.  I just paid off my car.  Should have thought that one through a bit more.

Still, maybe this isn’t really a bad thing at all.

I feel secure that my publisher will still be around, since I know God isn’t terribly fond of Faerie worship or purple highlights, so at least Flutter will still arrive in August.  And since I’m not necessarily targeting Christians with my books (well, targeting, yes, but not in the publicity sense), then I can rest assured that my audience will still be around.  In fact, this may be a boon to the publishing industry, now that I think on it, because it will eliminate…er, I mean, remove all the people who are most traditionally likely to whine about literary content.  Vampire Porn for everyone!  Hopefully Stephanie Meyer is taken.  I can’t stomach anymore of her work.

I’m actually thinking that the bulk of people at Twitter and Facebook will still be around, so we’ll still have that.  To boot, all that Christian clutter will be gone, so no more scrolling through the rants and praise to Mr. Jesus.  Heck, little boys all over the world can roam free, safe and secure in the knowledge that their pants won’t be removed by some God-horny Man of the Cloth, so that’s good.  Then again, won’t all the Men of the Cloth who engaged in that activity still be here?  Hm.  Rule of the land!  It’s time to put these imbeciles on a remote island with a few other undesirables, and have an And Then There Were None reality show.  Given the dearth of candidates, and only 12 slots (should we remain true to the story), I’m thinking several continuous seasons of this will do fine.

Fortunately, we’ll still have this:

So that’s cool.

I’m actually feeling confident that the bulk of television shows, actors and actresses, producers, directors, musicians, writers, artists and executives will still be around, so I guess Hollywood just keeps rolling.  I mean, they didn’t stop for Pearl Harbor or 9/11, did they?  Can’t seem them seeing this any differently.  So, we’ll still have a major portion of our art intact.

This solves our energy crises, doesn’t it?  And food shortages?

Can we get back to community-based lifestyles, and weed out the box stores?  I can promise you all non-Christian based indie bookstores will still be around.  They didn’t break for Amazon or B&N, so I figure the Rapture won’t kill their inspiration either.  Should be plenty of stock and, as mentioned, better quality to choose from, so there you are.  Another win.

Looks like the recession is over.  Jobs for everyone!

May have to entertain that Trump for President thing, after all.  He’ll still be around.  I mean, it would appear that every politician is a Christian, or so they would have you believe.  Surely they weren’t lying about that.  I’ll vote for him.  Although George Clooney might be more interested now that there’s no real backlash to him running, right?  Hell, all of Hollywood might put their name in the hat if they can do so comfortably knowing that there’s no one left to call them out on their loose-running morality issues.

What else?

You know, this may very well be the greatest Litmus test in the whole of testing things that aren’t what they purport to be.  I sense a great deal of finger waggling, post Rapture, with some, “Ahhhhhh, I knew you weren’t a Christian!” in for good measure.  Playground rules apply.  Those shamed are cast into the Pit of the Unwanton Liars Who Used to Be Bullies But Are Now Just Stupid Dummy Butts.

Yeah, I’m liking this post-Rapture world.

I need to go stock up on cheese.  Feel free to do the same.  In the meantime, what did I forget?

Awaiting the Second Coming

I finally jumped on the Netflix train again.  It’s been a few years, actually, since I last eagerly awaited the next drop from my queue, and I’ve been rebuilding my list with all of the movies I’ve wanted to see over the past couple of years, but couldn’t get to, couldn’t talk someone into going to see, or that I entirely missed because my head was buried in a quagmire of fantasy baseball.

The great thing about the process, the absolutely most wonderful piece of the Netflix pie, is that you invariably find movies you’ve never heard of, or that the filmmakers were too embarrassed to actually let you–or anyone else for that matter–know about.  These are the movies that bring me the most excitement, the greatest anticipation, because who, in their right mind, would pay actual money for a ticket to see this?

That’s right.  Jesus Christ has returned to earth to slay vampires.  What?   Where was this in the Bible?  I mean, holy hell, I’d so go to Church if this is buried in the Gospels somewhere.  Maybe I shouldn’t say, “Holy hell,” while professing a possible desire to be at church.  Hm.  Anyway, I almost feel like I’ve been robbed of a story idea here.  Vampires are the new Paris Hilton.  Wait, did I say that right?  Paris Hilton from the sex video, or Paris Hilton from that ridiculously amusing BFF show?  Is her dog the head vampire, or would that be her father?  Surely, she’s not a talented enough actress to play such a dolt while secretly converting the world to vampires.  Zombies, sure.  She’s already doing that, but I just don’t see her as the head vampire type.  If she were a character from Twilight, would she be Bella, or would she be Victoria, or would she be the fly that I splattered when I dropped the dead weight of Breaking Dawn on it?

But I digress.

I have no idea what this movie is about.  If I were to pre-EVR it, I should have to censor most of the review for sensitive ears.  Not that I’m going to.  I just should.  I could honestly think of nothing more fun that crashing a church service, and shouting, “Jesus Fucking Christ killed goddamn Vampires?  Why have you people been hiding this for so long?”

Just digest that for a moment.

So, this movie–if I dare blaspheme the slaying power of God’s “according to the Bible” son–is going to arrive soon, and I can’t remember the last non-Harry Potter movie that I was this excited to see.  It’s going to suck.  It’s going to suck so good that I may choke on my popcorn, or spill wine on Maggie (who will likely protest while licking herself into a drunk stupor), or maybe lose all sense of myself, and declare it to be the best movie ever made.

Who knows but Jesus?

And the vampires, probably.

But not Paris Hilton.  She doesn’t know most things.

If Doesn’t Kill You, It’s Worth a Buck

Well, last night’s event at The Tank was a load of fun.  Aside from the fact that the venue is a quaint little, absolutely inviting theater space, it’s also a perfect space for readings.  “Just Working on My Novel” was designed by the ever amazing, always entertaining Russ Marshalek, as an outlet for those who have been working on, talking about, or professing a desire to write, a novel.  Each of these events will feature a published author, and I am honored to have been the writer to have had the priviledge to wear the innagural pair of JWOMN shoes.  I started the affair by reading from Anointed and closed it out by reading the first chapter from MY follow-up, Angelic Malcontents.  It was the first public reading of that particular material, and I was elated to have received such a positive response.

The stage at the Tank

The stage at the Tank

As you can see, the set-up on stage was simplistic, and included a weird little Maid/Unicorn Head…thing that was holding a copy of Anointed.  This too, was a Russ Marshalek special inclusion, and I really don’t know what to say, other than it will find a place in a story of mine very soon.  A bizzare, bizzare piece of, well, whatever you refer to it as.Tonight, once more at The Tank, is the religious roast, Fishsticks for Jesus.  It will be a night of comedy at religion’s expense, and I fully expect that there will be much to write about tomorrow morning, when I sit down, groggy, and struggling through words with a cup of coffee firmly in hand.  Then, sadly, it will be time to depart from the Big Apple.  There’s never enough time to see everything you want to see here.  Even with 3 full days, you just pick what you want to see & leave it at that.Today was a lazy day, to be honest.  As a birthday present to MYSELF, I slept in until 9, staggered downstairs to grab as much coffee, yogurt, danishes, and additional creamer/sugar for coffee later, that I could carry and returned to  MY room to relax, and attend to the weighty amount of birthday wishes and photo comments on Facebook.  I stayed there, spent some time catching up with Alice and telling the dog hello, and finally wandered out after noon or so to meet Russ at The Tank.

???

???

12:35 p.m: I arrive at The Tank and proceed to be a complete ass to Russ in front of his Tank cohorts.  He rightfully reads me the riot act, tells Alice on the phone that I am being a stupid dick, and informs ME that he doesn’t work for ME anymore and “doesn’t have to take that shit.”  I realize that he is absolutely correct, and that I apparently don’t have enough caffeine in ME after all.  To Starbucks!

1:33 p.m: The frap helped.  I’m feeling loose and free again, and after a bit of a ride on the trains, we’re in Brooklyn, heading for food and then, Word, Brooklyn’s best little Indie bookstore.  One problem though, which Russ points out with a question that I cannot answer.

Russ: Where are we?

ME: Hell if I know.

Yeah.  Lost in Brooklyn.  And not that, “well, this is the ok part of Brooklyn that you shouldn’t be afraid of,” but rather that, “Oh, dear God, we’re going to die,” area that you would rather avoid.  Yay Russ!  I ask him if it’s ok to hand him back the, “Stupid dick,” moniker.  He grudgingly agrees.  We head back to the train and the Greenpoint stop we should have gotten off at to begin with.

2:00 p.m: We arrive at Brooklyn Label, and I eat the absolute best burger I have ever had in my life.  It’s a neat place, full of character, and Russ pointed out some guy in the corner that is supposedly a famous musician.  Yeah.  Like I would know him.

Brooklyn Label

Brooklyn Label

 
2:40 p.m: We arrive at Word, where we spend an hour shooting the breeze, bashing stupid books, and discussing why James Patterson is sadly the best thing that Hachette Book Group USA can promote.  Well, except for that Twilight thing, anyway.  I buy a copy of The Book Thief, a Young Adult title I’ve been wanting to read since it came out in 2006, and we head out for the G Train. 

There has been an absence of notable excitement today.  Yesterday, after I blogged, I left the hotel in search of caffeine and dinner.  I got down to 8th street, a block away, when I was halted by 3 fire trucks, 4 cop cars, and 2 rescue vehicle, and a throng of people congregated and staring skyward.  I would find out, very quickly, that a crane had malfunctioned (or something like that), and that a netting that was holding broken concrete was threatening to spill its contents onto the road below.  I would find out later that this is not a rare occurance in the City.  I made it past that, only a block further before I saw 2 more ambulances, 2 more cop cars, another large throng, and a considerable amount of blood on the street.  Just past that, a bicycle split in half.  Yeah, man on bike vs. car, car wins.  From what I understand, the guy was beaten, broken, but would survive.  Crazy.  There’s no shortage of entertainment around here.  I look forward to leaving the hotel, just to see what I see.

Alright, all done now.  Need to make dinner plans and get ready for tonight.  More tomorrow morning before I make my way home!

An Apocalyptic Twilight

Today, I offer you what I consider to be a tasty treat.  However, first, here are some links, and feel free to watch this video of Stephen Colbert doing his thing with Biz Stone, Co-Founder of Twitter.  Had trouble posting it, so you’ll have to just click the link.

  • Santana has made a heartfelt, and somewhat desperate plea to our new President.  I can’t think of a better request in these robust economic times, when people are so busy with work and excess that they have nothing better to do.  Thank you, Santana.
  • I’m a statistic!  I’m so proud of myself for involuntarily participating in an American Survey!  You gotta laugh, right?  Right?
  • I am an avid fan of baseball.  I am also an avid fan of Chick Fil-A.  This just rocks my world.
  • Apparantly, wealthy people in Britain are just as prone to excessive snobbery and isolationism as their counterparts in America.  Poor Goolgians, just doing their job, and this is what they get
  • Let’s see…you’re telling me it took a spear to the head to learn this lesson?
  • “Mom!  Dad!  I made it into UC San Diego!  I’m going to college!  My life is finally turning up!”  Uh-oh.  Acceptance Fail.
  • Now you have to hear it as well.  I’m not going to be the only one, dammit.
  • I am both a fan of, and a friend to, Paul Jenkins.  In the world of comics, he is one of the iconic figures.  Great writer, wonderful British wit.  His Origin story of Wolverine is still a revered work in the industry.  Now, it’s becoming a film, and I have to admit, that I am excited.  It would appear that more than 100,000 people were obviously more excited than I am, and have seen the movie before it’s even out.  Lucky bastards.

Here’s a link to the Southern Authors blog.  I did a post yesterday (just scroll down), and somehow managed to decide that the dvd release of Twilight was a great subject matter to discuss.  In fairness to ME, though, that movie was just so awful it was worth every minute.  I mean, it was so poorly directed, so horribly acted, so predictable in its cinematic attrocities, that I was riveted.  Completely spellbound.  Ok, that’s a stretch, but I was entertained.

I liken that movie to a book that I carry around with ME everywhere I go.  I find the temptation to read it at MY signings to be too compelling to resist.  It too, is so bad, it just circles right on around to good.  It’s a cult-classic to all those who have read it, or at least parts of it.  It is Apocalypse South, a print-on-demand book by Kyle Watson.  I hold no pretense that Mr. Watson will wander upon my blog, but if you do, good sir, by all means contact me.  I can sell this book a thousand times over if you want to help out.  Granted, you should be made aware that I would not be selling it on its literary merit, but rather, on its lack of it.  In fact, MY wife Alice had decreed that Mr. Watson’s use of something she calls, “adjectnouns” is, in fact, a groundbreaking technique that is difficult to consistently maintain.  For example, “forest woods”, or, “forest trees”, or, “shirt uniform”.  I’m just randomly opening the book here.  There are a ton more. 

One of the most entertaining bits of this book (and there are SOOOOOO many to choose from), occurs shortly after the rapture takes place–on I-285 in this case, though I debate whether or not this already happens on a daily basis–and general hysteria has taken those “Left Behind” (oops, did I say that?) by a gripping force that is only just a touch over-dramatized.  Judge for yourself, though:

Dakota glances back at the line of gasonline under a car fire.  The sparks from the car are just enough to light up the gasoline trail headed right to Dakota’s shoes.  He takes of running at full speed.  The car explodes and Dakota dives onto the pavement.  He slowly begins to sit up with his clothes torn.  He has sustained cuts and bruises throughout his body.  Dakota tries to maintain his composure when he notices the back of a woman lying on the side of the interstate.  He can hear her crying.  She looks so much like Desiree from behind.  Believing it may be her, he forgets about his pain and rushes over to her.  he presses his hand on her shoulder.  She turns around screaming out loud.

“Where is my baby?”  She grabs a hold of Dakota’s shirt, “have you seen my baby?  He was just in my womb.”  Dakota is stunned that it isn’t his wife and is horrified by what she says about her missing baby.  He is sorrowful for the lady, but his emotions don’t last long as he hears a loud noise approaching them.  he looks up towards the sky and sees a passenger plane coming right at them.  Then he looks straight ahead of him and views a herd of people stampeding toward them.  He realizes everyone is running toward the exit ramp to escape the coming plane.  Dakota helps the lady up off the pavement.

“Lady, we must hurry up and move or we’re both going to be killed.”

“I can’t go,” she replies, “What about my baby?”

“Your baby is gone and we have no time,” he responds, “We must run.”  He begins to run, dragging her along by his waist side.  She is sobbing tears of pain.  The herd of people are gaining ground on Dakota and the lady.  The airliner takes a nose dive onto the interstate.  Thunderous explosions erupt as the plane crashes.  Debris is flying all over the surrounding area.  Dakot realizes that he has to do something quick or they will be killed by the stampeding people or by debris from the plane crash.  They are inches away from being crushed by the people.  Dakota leaps just in time onto a grassy hill under the bridge, and next to the exit ramp.  He holds onto the lady as they roll down the hill and the mass of people pass by them.  Some of the people are being hit by debris, causing injuries and even death.

Even death?  NOOOOOOOO!  Sorry, I had to say something.  It’s near impossible to even type that without wanting to break in and make comments.  The book I own, which I’ve had for nine years now, is actually written in quite thoroughly by MYSELF and others who have braved a read/edit as well.  I actually signed off on page 83, as it was seriously beginning to hamper my writing efforts.  I didn’t hear the whole book until Alice (MY books by Alice professional) read it during a road trip a few years ago.  Since that time, I’ve made a concerted effort to spread the wealth.  If not only for the entertainment value, then for the illustration as to how one does not go about writing a book (and why some POD books are such a negative drain on self-published authors).

Just typing it has worn me out.  Perhaps I should go read Twain, or Tom Robbins, or some other high-grade, literary mind to recharge.  Actually, no, I’d rather have some bacon.  That should do just fine.