Kevin Lucia's Blog, page 22

Review: Hideaway

Hideaway by Dean Koontz
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

There was a time when I read nothing but Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Then, for a time, I explored other horror/supernatural thriller/spec fic writers, to broaden my palate. When I returned to King, re-reading some old favorites and reading his newer offerings, I was pleasantly surprised to find I loved his work as much as I remember loving it.

Though I enjoyed HIDEAWAY, it hasn't quite been the same experience re-reading Koontz (except for his novella STRANGE HIGHWAYS, I love that one). One thing I notice now that I didn't then is that Koontz can't seem to stop himself from editorializing along the way, intruding as a narrator a bit too much. The values of an author will always inevitably influence their work. But I don't necessarily want the author to beat me over the head with their values with an intruding narrator. He didn't do it as much in this one, but I noticed it a lot more, after not reading Koontz for a long time.

Plus, his child protagonists are always unfailingly witty, well-read and literate, sarcastic but with hearts of gold inside. It's a formula, and it didn't bother me too much here, but only because I haven't read much Koontz in awhile. King's child protagonists may still be "good" but they have a grittier reality to them.

On the plus side, I did appreciate that Koontz had Hatch be pretty straightforward with is wife about his visions, and that she was in the fight with him right from the start. I always hate it when authors - for the sake of false tension - have couples in an otherwise healthy relationship just start to randomly hide things from each other. That CAN be a useful element of characterization, but mostly, it comes off as fake. Koontz didn't misstep here, and I enjoyed it more because of it.

And of course, (for obvious reasons) I have no issues with the amount of faith which ends up in Koontz's characters. Actually, if he just contented himself with letting his characters be moral vehicles, I'd probably still be a more avid fan, and since this is a earlier novel, his Narrator doesn't intrude as much as it does in his later works.

I will say I don't think I needed the "and this is how everyone ended up" conclusion. We could've easily ended with the end of the plot's action itself. Other than that, this stands up as reflective of Koontz's stronger, earlier work.

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Review: Hindsight

Hindsight by Ronald Kelly
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Another solid, entertaining tale by Ronald Kelly. I know this is a somewhat cliched observation (seems like everyone says) but valid, nonetheless: Kelly captures southern country life perfectly. The culture, the descriptions, all of it feels very real. Also - this is available in ebook for you Kindle readers, and I definitely recommend it.

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Moving On to the Next Chapter

Unbelievable as it seems, come this May, my first solo outing, Hiram Grange and the Chosen One , will have been published for nine years. Its debut was a pretty exciting event, as any writer can attest to. I finally had my own book, written entirely by me. I started getting positive reviews of my work. People occasionally recommended it, in small horror circles. I had something I'd written that was, at the very least, good. I had something of mine to sell at conventions and signings in my hometown. Esteemed authors like Robert Dunbar had blurbed my work, for goodness sake.

From left to right: Illustrator Malcom McClinton, writer Rob Davies, writer Scott Christian Carr, layout Danny Evarts, writer Richard Wright, myself, and behind, publisher and writer Tim Deal.Among the "Hiram Six" (Tim Deal, Scott Christian Carr, Rob Davies, Richard Wright, Illustrator Malcom McClinton) enthusiasm ran high. What was in store next for Hiram Grange? Another series of books? A novel? Limited edition chapbooks? A short story collection of Hiram Grange adventures, edited by us? Graphic novels?

Eventually, however, reality set in. Though I'm proud of the work we did to this day, Hiram Grange was, in all reality, a very niche character. Published by a very small press. And, for whatever reason, we failed to capitalize on the-then still new ebook craze, as no Kindle versions of the Hiram Grange Chronicles came out until about four or five years later. Also, we'd written our versions of Hiram all at the same time, so our visions of Hiram himself varied. I know mine turned out to be very different, for sure.

Anyway, too soon, reviews stopped rolling in. It became very clear that, beyond the small reach of Shroud Publishing and small press horror, not many folks were interested in an absinthe-swilling, opium smoking, perverse anti-hero. We probably never sold enough copies online to clear our token advances.  As awesome as the Hiram Grange ride was, it proved to be short, and I think we all realized we had to move on to other projects.

Myself in particular, I realized that the action-adventure style of Hiram Grange wasn't something I wanted to explore at that time. I tried several novels which fell apart, because back then, I was still - stupidly - resistant to outlining. For the next two years, my short story subs saw nothing but rejection.

Finally, I realized that if I wanted to stay in this writing thing for the long haul, I needed to make myself okay with the fact that, for the time being, "nothing" was happening. I needed to buckle down and write a lot, read a lot, and find other ways to remain part of the horror community. So I became very active on Goodreads. I started "Horror 101," an examination of the horror genre, which first debuted on the podcast Tales to Terrify, before it moved over to Lamplight Magazine. I blogged a lot about horror, blogged a lot about my life, and about writing, in general, not worrying about how many people actually read said blogs.

Finally, in 2013, Things Slip Through debuted through the-then new Crystal Lake Publishing, opening the small town mythology I'd wanted to create for so long. And, though I've by no means raked in the cash, over the past 6 years and five Clifton Heights books, I've experienced the most success I've ever had, far more than I experienced with Hiram Grange.

But now...I'm once again at a crossroads. The sales of Things You Need have been the lowest of all my Clifton Heights books, and the reviews have been slow coming in. I blame no one for this. When you think about it, I've gotten a lot of mileage out of two short story collections, two novella collections, and a novella, when I think, in reality, most readers just want to read novels. Also, despite my efforts to make Clifton Heights a non-sequential series, I believe that when new readers see: "The newest installment in Kevin Lucia's Clifton Heights Series," I think they just assume it is a sequential series, and not many folks want to jump into a series cold.

I still have two more Clifton Heights books set to come out, stories I believe represent the best of my writing, to date. They'll be published in limited edition hardcover, however, and that sort of thing can't be rushed. Which is fine. I am beyond honored that this publisher bought not just one book from me, but two. I think readers will really love both books, and I also love them, because they are on the opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to horror/speculative fiction.

But, as I said - release dates on limited edition books like this are slippery. So I have no real idea when they'll be out. Which means - I'm once again in a period of "emptiness." Nothing coming out anytime soon, and several works in various stages of drafting.

So, what to do?

Initially, I got a little depressed. I wondered: "Is this it? The end of the road? Even if Crystal Lake does want more books from me, will they just sink to the bottom of Amazon rankings, only to be noticed by a few?"

After my recent wonderful evening with Tom Monteleone, F. Paul Wilson, and Stuart Davide Schiff, I rebounded. Felt better about things. And this week, I've realized what I need to do: I need to imagine myself in the same place as I was when the Hiram Grange buzz faded.

It's time to move on. It's time to write different things outside my comfortable little mythology. It's time to take some scary steps (like find an agent). At the same time, I don't want to disappear, as I was feeling like doing a few months ago. I need to throw my efforts into continuing my Cemetery Dance Online column, "Revelations." I need to talk about what I love, reading and horror and reading horror, and other geek stuff. I need to have fun on Facebook.  I need to be happy with my rather small accomplishments but also move on, if I want to be in this thing for the long haul. 

I need to move on. Which means, I need to leave Clifton Heights. I need to "kill" Gavin Patchett.

More on that next time...

Review: Unleashed

Unleashed by Peter Laws
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

So, Matt Hunter has quickly become a series character that I'll be sure to follow from now on. PURGED was a good read, but I absolutely loved UNLEASHED. He's kind of like an occult Repairman Jack - former priest now turned atheist religion professor who gets pulled into police cases involving the strange, religious, or the occult.

The best thing is what I *think* Peter Laws is doing with Matt Hunter. I don't want to go into too much detail - I'll save that for when I feature Laws on my Cemetery Dance Online column, REVELATIONS - but I love how it seems like he's making Hunter more and more uncertain about his convictions that there's no supernatural elements in the world, that there's nothing "bigger" out there. He's doing it subtly, though, and who knows if he's continued that trend in SEVERED, or plans to continue it along Matt Hunter's journey. In any case - don't let the author's background as a Baptist minister throw you off. This is NOT watered down "Christian fiction." This is excellent suspense/thriller (supernatural?) fiction, and Laws seems to be using Hunter to grapple with serious existential questions in an authentic, honest way.

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Review: Evil Unveiled

Evil Unveiled by Robert R. McCammon
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

So, it's clear I have another series character to follow - Matthew Corbett! My feeling is that he's going to be a cross between a colonial Sherlock Holmes and Repairman Jack, and I love it. Also - the plotting is just so intricate. It makes me despair that I'll ever be able to get a handle on plotting my own longer work. Anyway - onward to more Matthew Corbett!

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A Night With Tom Monteleone, F. Paul Wilson, and Stuart David Schiff - Eight Years Later

In my last blog, I talked a bit about the fatigue I'd been struggling with for awhile, and how re-committing to daily exercise and changing my diet helped give me more energy. I also talked about the realization that I needed to recommit to my novel and just get it done before I worried about getting it good. I then ended with the cliff-hanger that, in order to breathe new life into my writing, I had to "kill" the novel's narrator, Gavin Patchett - the pseudo-author of all my works.

I'm going to elaborate on that, eventually. First - and  more importantly - I want to talk about two writers who have personally impacted me as a writer, perhaps more so than anyone else (with the notable exceptions of Mort Castle and Brian Keene). I got a chance to spend some time with them recently, and I was once again reminded of how fortunate I am to know them, to call them role models, and...dare I even say it...call them friends.

Eight years ago, things changed for me as a writer, in a fundamental way. At that point in my career, (if you can call what I do a "career") I'd sold a handful of stories to middling markets, had seen the publication of my first standalone work, Hiram Grange and the Chosen One (which got a few nice reviews, but never really sold many copies, except mostly at conventions and signings), and had no idea what to do next as a writer. I was still struggling to find my voice. I'd yet to make any professional sales, and despaired of ever doing so.

Then, I experienced an evening which I now consider life-changing, in regards to writing, publishing, and genre fiction as a whole.  F. Paul Wilson and Tom Monteleone had come to Seton to work with my Creative Writing students. Their first night here, I assumed they'd want to be left to their own devices in their hotel room. Why in the world would they want to hang out with a nobody like myself?

(Of course, as I've gotten to know Paul and Tom better, I've realized they aren't the types to play favorites or play the popularity game. They're unfailingly friendly and accessible to just about anyone, regardless of their own stature).

In any case, much to my shock, Paul called me at home, wondering if I'd like to "hang out." They had a "friend" in Binghamton and they were at his house, and he had this "neat stuff" in his basement I "just had" to see.

As it turns out, their "friend" was legendary editor of Whispers Magazine and the Best of Whispers anthologies, Stuart David Schiff. 


And the "neat stuff" I "just had" to see? Words fail to describe it accurately. Imagine a basement filled with EVERY kind of movie/science fiction/fantasy/horror/pulp fiction bit of memorabilia you can imagine. 


And then, add in every single edition of every single kind of science fiction, fantasy, and horror novel or short story collection, or editions of every kind of genre magazine you can imagine, stacked in leaning piles, crammed onto bookshelves, stored behind display cases. Imagine all that - and still, I bet your imagination simply wouldn't match the reality.


We stayed at Stuart's house until midnight. Sipping whiskey and eating takeout. They talked about genre history, while I soaked it up like a sponge. That night had an immeasurable impact on me. All these authors I'd never heard of before, or had only heard of, and had never read. It's not an exaggeration to say I've spent the last eight years searching out those authors, and there's still so much more left to read...and that doesn't even take into account all the new voices out there.

In any case, it still blows me away, but I believe this is the epitome of who F. Paul Wilson and Tom Monteleone are: that they'd take the time to selflessly speak into my career. I didn't dare expect I'd be fortunate enough to experience anything like that again.

And then, two weeks ago...I did. Paul and Tom returned to my school to work with a fresh new batch of students, and invited me to spend another night at Stuart's. This time, I was able to take things in a little better - having seen his collection once before - and because of this, I realized it was even more amazing than I'd thought. 

As you can imagine, we stayed up until about midnight, once again sipping whisky and eating takeout. Something was different this time, however. I'm not audacious enough to  say I belonged there this time (I'll always suffer from a healthy dose of imposter syndrome, I'm afraid). But this time...I wasn't just a passive observer. I took part in these conversations about the genre, because of the reading I'd done. And, even more satisfying - even though my book collection will never touch Stuart's - this second time around, I recognized dozens of books in his collection, books which I'd sought out and read because of that night, eight years ago. 

It's hard to put into words what this all means to me. Even now, reviewing what I've written, I feel like a gushing fanboy, nothing more. It's the timing of all this that I can't get past. Because once again....I'm not sure what to do or where to go.

I've written four good books - yes, I believe they're at least good - for Crystal Lake Publishing, set in my own little fictional town, my Greentown, my Castle Rock, my Oxrun Station. I have two more books - limited edition novellas - in that same universe, on the way. 

And I have two novels in progress. One, a novel I'd originally meant to be completely tied into that universe (which is increasingly turning into its own thing), and the other my much lamented Billy the Kid Weird Western, which I'm COMMITTED to making a reality.

I have no idea what to do, really. My last book, Things You Need, has only sold fairly. Maybe folks are tired of Clifton Heights stories, or linked collections of Clifton Height stories. Maybe I just need to strike out for a bigger audience. Maybe I need to write something totally off the wall like a Billy the Kid Weird Western novel. Maybe, maybe.

But spending time with Paul, Tom, and Stuart showed me the way. Eight years ago, I spent a transformative night with them, then spent the years after reading everything I could get my hands on. During that period, a lot of great stuff happened. I sold several pro-pay short stories, to collections featuring some of my favorite authors. But it didn't start happening until about two-three years of reading everything I could and writing every day.

So that's what I'm going to do, now. Read everything, write every day, and go from there.

Thank you, Paul, Tom, and Stuart. The word "mentor" gets tossed around too freely these days. But you are  certainly role models, and you have impacted this writer more than you will ever know.

Review: Orthodoxy

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Thought-provoking and philosophical, but not quite as practical and as universal as Lewis' MERE CHRISTIANITY. Unlike MC, this reads as if it's tied much closer to the political and philosophical debates in England at the time of it's writing.

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Kickstart My Heart in the Weight Room

So an interesting thing has happened to me over the past few weeks. I don't mind admitting that I've struggled a lot with fatigue, weariness, and even a touch of depression over the past three years in regards to my writing, and even my daily life, especially the past year. Part of it comes from personal matters which has led me to re-evaluate the priorities in my life. Me figuring out what's important to me, and trying to understand how writing fits into all that.

However, other things - minor things, really, in the grand scheme of life - have impacted my health and fitness, which has had a cumulative effect.  Four years ago, I tore my rotator  cuff lifting weights. I played sports in high school, and played small-college basketball, and played years of recreational/competitive basketball afterward, and lifted weights and ran regularly. At one time, I was even considering a stab at the annual Tough Mudder obstacle course. I tore my rotator cuff, however, and over the following two years, lapsed into the most inactive period of my life. 

Me back in younger, more agile years.
Ditto...I didn't notice it right away, but over the course of these past four years, as my  fitness level dropped to all-time lows, so did my energy levels. As a full-time teacher with a family - and a special needs son - I need to get up around 4 in the morning to write. Over this past year, for the first time in 15 years, I started failing in that area. I was getting heavier, feeling more and more tired, and I couldn't seem to make myself care.

I finally came to a point in which I realized my fitness was not only adversely affecting my mood, it was impairing my ability to write. About a month ago, I changed up my diet. Nothing major, just replaced my lunches with salads, added grapefruits to my breakfast and replacing my nightly snack (I'm a confirmed chips addict) with an apple. 

Then, about three weeks ago, my daughter and I starting hitting the weight room every day after school (perks of teaching; I have fitness equipment at my daily disposal). She plays soccer and basketball, and I offered her a spring choice: Track and Field, Lacrosse, or working out with me. She chose the latter. 

So we've been working it old school: Monday, Wednesday, Friday upper body; Tuesday/Thursday are "leg days." Again, nothing major, just the lifting routine I'd been doing since my college basketball days.  Madi will be playing JV basketball next year, so it's time for her to get ready for the next level, and I desperately needed to get back into shape.

Almost immediately I felt better, and not just better: the best I've felt in about two years. I've gotten up on the nose the past three weeks at 4, resuming my old writing habits. Honestly, I haven't felt this good in years.

However, something else broke me out of my funk.  Last month, I blogged about "killing" my novel The Mighty Dead. I pretended I was okay with it - but really, I wasn't. Not at all. I was seriously depressed. I tried to work on my coming of age novel, but I couldn't get past this whole novel I'd shelved.

Three things re-ignited my fire for The Mighty Dead, which I've been working on these past three weeks. 1. My publisher at Crystal Lake suggested I'd lost my objectivity, and advised me to simply apply the edits I had, then send it out to someone and see what they think. 2. I decided I needed someone fun to write about. The novel deals with guilt and regret, and how those things haunt us and weigh us down. But, on some level...it had gotten too heavy, too somber. I needed a seriously kick-ass character. So, I added one. A character I've wanted to write a solo novel about for awhile, so I decided this would be a great chance to introduce her. She's been serious fun to write, so far.

What was the third thing which injected new life into my writing? Well, I decided that instead of "killing" The Mighty Dead....I had to kill its narrator, Gavin Patchett, instead.

And that's for next time....

Review: The Man with the Barbed-Wire Fists

The Man with the Barbed-Wire Fists by Norman Partridge
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Some great stuff in here, as can be expected. By turns entertaining, touching, funny, ironic, and just plain disturbing. Partidge's voice is just as distinctive as Robert E. Howard's. My only quibble? That we don't have more Partridge to read...

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Review: Mine

Mine by Robert R. McCammon
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It's easy to see how Robert McCammon eventually felt called to writing historical fiction. This isn't just a cross-country thriller, it's a treatise about those who'd gotten caught up in the turbulent sixties - those who'd dreamed big and dreamed of freedom, and those caught up in the often violent radicalism of the time - and how they felt left adrift in the consumerism and materialism of the late eighties/early nineties. In anyone else's hands, that would've been lost in the violence of Mary Terror, but as always, Robert McCammon transcends with his keen insight into human nature.

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