Jason Anspach's Blog, page 6

’til Death Reviews: The Joy Never Grows Old

New Reviews are in – 5 Stars!

’til Death: The Man Who Balked is getting nice reviews. I’ve said before that this is my favorite Rockwell Return book so far. And while I try not to let reviews (positive or negative) impact my sense of importance or self worth, there’s something about seeing reviews for a labor of love. To create something that someone else not only connects with, but actually wants more of is…a joy.

One I don’t think I’ll ever get over.

I remember as a kid day dreaming about my favorite stories. Mostly those involved a galaxy far, far, away or a weaponized mutant named Logan. I just so desperately wanted more Star Wars books and movies (imagine my disappointment at Episode I). And I couldn’t wait for the next issue of Wolverine to release. I would beg my Mom to drive me to the now defunct O’leary’s Books & Music so I could pick up my folder of comics.

So to see people enjoy these stories, and actively hope for more…I’m happy and humbled.

And grateful.

Thank you.

 

Ready 'til Death: The Man Who Balked
A pennant is on the line and a life hangs in the balance!

When local baseball player Junior Jones receives death threats over the color of his skin, the team’s wealthy owner hires Sam Rockwell to solve the case and stop a murder before it happens. Sam goes undercover as a minor league pitcher to strike out the culprit. Follow the clues along with Sam’s curmudgeonly ghost of a father Frank Rockwell, and Sam’s wife Amelia, who holds a secret that will forever change the lives of the entire Rockwell family.

It’s another laugh-filled, madcap mystery in the warm, witty 1950’s Hollywood-style of author Jason Anspach.

 

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The Federation’s Dark Secret

There’s an unspoken yet terrible series of events in the Star Trek universe.

One of my favorite episodes of the Literary Outlaws podcast last year was the interview with Rysa Walker. And while the interview itself was fun, it was my co-host Kevin G. Summer’s theory on the Federation’s Dark Secret that makes this one a winner.

We find in Star Trek a world with a united humanity. A sort of secular society exploring the galaxy, hanging out on the holodecks, making fun of Klingons, etc. There’s a great episode of Deep Space Nine detailing the role Gabriel Bell had in galvanizing earth into making the change. But that episode doesn’t address how this all came about. How do billions of disparate people find the ability to join together as one? I mean, look at the world’s crazy fanatics: ISIS, rabid foaming socialists, people excited for the next Fast & Furious movie. How do you get all of them to fall in line and reach the Star Trek utopia?

The answer: The Federation’s Dark Secret

Kevin’s theory is that the only way this could possibly have happened is if the nascent Federation instituted a global “cleansing” that removed every element of society that would stand up to the new, unified vision. Maybe they did it knowingly, maybe they looked the other way while surrogates did their dirty work. But it happened. Those undesirable elements, the murderous terrorists, the drinkers of Nesquik strawberry, fans of the Bachelor…they’re all gone.

And seriously, do you see that happening today? Is there something that special going to happen in the next 220 years? Is the end of WWIII going to somehow usher in a universal peace unlike WWI & WWII? My money is on Kevin’s theory.

Beware of those in Federation Uniforms offering peace.

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A Couple of Guys Playing With Action Figures

My writing time is focused on a Space Opera & Military Science Fiction Adventure called Galaxy’s Edge.

If you know me at all, you know I’m a huge Star Wars nerd. This project is basically my friend Nick Cole & me playing with our action figures out in the backyard and writing down what happens. Nick wrote a post about what we’re looking to accomplish over at the Galaxy’s Edge website.

Check it out because readers are absolutely loving this story! If you’re already a subscriber, here’s something to tug at those backyard action figure memories…

 

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Martin Luther King’s I Have a Dream Speech

The Full Transcript of MLK’s most famous speech, delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C. – No commentary needed.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the “unalienable Rights” of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: “For Whites Only.” We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest — quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification” — one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day — this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

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Goal Achievement: Streaking in 2017

No, not that kind of streaking.

I generally set a goal or two (or three, four, five, or seven) for myself that focus on year-end results. Write four books. Lose 2,023 lbs. Learn Spanish. Memorize Romans 8. Execute a perfect shoryuken dragon punch. Help my wife know how awesome she is.

The problem with that, at least for me, is that as time rolls by the goals become blurred and lose focus. And so by April “write four books” morphs into “write two books.” That was 2016.

A couple of weeks into 2017, I’m sitting in a much better situation. And the answer has to do so streaking.  Joe DiMaggio didn’t say at the start of the 1941 season, “I’m going to hit in fifty-six straight games.” He just showed up every day and got a hit until fifty-six days passed.

That’s been my philosophy this year. I’m not thinking about each individual end-all goal, I’m thinking of what I need to do every day.  Here are my goals for the coming year:

 

 

 

Write 1,000 words every day.


Study Spanish for 15 minutes each day.


Take a minimum 30 minute walk each day.


Finish my daily prayers and devotions before I leave for work. Every day.


Do something for my wife that will help her, every day. Without her having to ask.

And if I do that, the end of year goals work out. So I’ve got a fourteen day streak in all of the categories listed so far this year. Not bad. Thirteen more and I’ll tie Ichiro’s record. Forty-two more and I’ll tie DiMaggio.

I’ll get it down eventually.

Julio Cesar Chavez had 87 straight victories. Drew Brees had 54 straight games with a touchdown pass. Gretzky scored goals in 51 straight games. The U.S. Basketball team won 63 games in a row. Orel Hershiser had 59 consecutive scoreless innings. Edwin Moses, 122 straight wins. Brett Favre,  321 consecutive starts (counting playoffs). Cal Ripken Jr., 2,632 consecutive games played (that’s a multi-year project).

Those are my metrics, written down. Famous streaks and the day I’ll pass them (if I don’t have to reset). It’s working for me so far. I’ve been ridiculously productive and that’s made me happy. Happier, anyway because God is good all the time.

So if you have trouble hanging with those annual goals, give this method a try. Think of something you can do every day that and focus on that instead of the goal itself.

Write every day. Eat a serving a vegetables every day. Don’t turn on the television until after 9pm every day…whatever. Just figure out what you need to streak your way through and have at it!

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Getting Behind the DM Screen

I don’t always feel comfortable talking to people.

It’s not that I have panic attacks, my palms sweating and the room spinning at the thought of talking to other human beings. It’s those situations where everyone is meeting and greeting and going through the small talk that I feel out of place. I never quite feel like I have anything to say. Other than jokes.

I got lots of jokes.

But experience, and a sharp wife, has taught me to keep those to myself. It’s for the better.

Whether that makes me an introvert, I can’t say. Because while I don’t relish talking to people in those cordial situations, I love entertaining. Having guests or friends (not always the same thing) over. It’s like they’ve given me license to play host and cater to them like I’m Steve Martin at the Oscars. That I can do because it’s like I get to put on a show.

I absolutely adore performing for people. It could be because my head’s not screwed on just right. It could be because I’m making up for an attention/praise starved childhood…But please don’t ask why, no one quite knows the reason. For whatever the reason, my head or my heart, I love to perform, it’s my preferred work of art.

But I only get so many speaking opportunities. I make the most of every public speaking event I get, but the rest of the time I have to get it out of my system by dramatic readings of Berenstain Bears books to my kids, taking on personas in family board games (I play a fantastic doofus frontier guide when we play Oregon Trail) and…perhaps best of all, when I climb behind the Dungeon Master’s (DM) screen for the comedy podcast, SciFi Writers Playing Old School D&D.

To give our usual DM, Christopher Boore, a break, I’m leading the second season module. A little ditty called Feast of Goblyns.

Am I over the top as a DM? Entirely likely.
Am I having fun? Absolutely.
Am I entertaining? Check out the latest episode and let me know!

 

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The Ineffectiveness of the Celebrity Pitch

It started out innocently enough.

Cy Young 1910 cigar box $6,380 – Robert Edward Auctions

Shrewd marketers realized they could profit by association with celebrities. So in the early 1900s you find baseball legend Cy Young’s face all over advertisements for cigars and cigarettes. If a cigar roller speaks about his craft, that only provides so much interest. If you’re a fan of cigars you might take the time to read about what work goes into making them. But if Cy Young’s mug is next to the same ad copy, interest spikes. Even better, it draws in people who don’t care all that much about cigars, but are willing to listen because…hey, it’s Cy Young!

Because this worked, the practice was expanded and really took off with the boom of Hollywood.

Since I write a series set in the 1950’s, I’m comfortable flexing my credentials as an amateur historian when it comes to the first half of the 20th century (fun fact: I was a history minor in college, too).  I’ve read thousand upon thousands of pages about the era, watched countless movies and television shows produced in that era, listened to vintage radio, you name it.

Like today, celebrity was a big deal in the pop culture lives of much of mainstream America. Unlike today, there was far less of the love-to-hate feeling we now see.

Celebrities were effective vehicles for the pitch because people genuinely liked them. They were talented, funny, and often beautiful. But with that came a well maintained public perception of being the sort of men who would feel at ease with the common man. Bob Hope would gladly pal around with you at a backyard barbecue (if you happened to be neighbors). Jimmy Stewart fought with distinction during WWII, just like so many other guys living out his dream in Suburbia.

These were the type of actors you wanted to like.

Sure, by all accounts a celebrity such as Joe DiMaggio was a grade-A, farm-fresh, jerk, but he had the sense to keep that from the public. So if the brand of cigarettes a celebrity encouraged you to buy weren’t to your liking, oh well. No harm done. You can still enjoy the latest Road to… movie without feeling sucked out of the experience.

Fast forward past countless celebrity endorsements until we arrive at today.

There are (probably) still product endorsements impacting the lives of those of us unable to skip past commercials. But as best I can tell from my spot in the cheap seats of the internet, the primary message being hocked by celebrities has switched from friendly suggestions over what products the American public might enjoy to telling (bordering on demanding) the American public to believe what they believe. To think how they think.

Celebrities giving their opinions on politics and lifestyle is nothing new. Will Rogers was doing it until his death in 1935. But the tone has shifted. Gone is the warm, humble persona willing to share their heartfelt beliefs but not above poking fun at themselves and their preferred policies.

Modern celebrity has lost its likeability because they’ve confused projecting a high character or amicable personality with the fleeting applause of the echo chamber.  They don’t even try to find common ground, express critical thought, or deliver measured words.

Celebrity influence was an utter failure in the past election. I feel confident in saying that no matter how passionate an award speech is, no matter how well executed those Facebook videos with all the jump cuts are, celebrity influence will continue to be a failure. It will fail because the messengers no longer see the need to prove themselves worth listening to (unless you already agree with them). There is an expectation that those wearing the crowns of Hollywood passed down from the previous generations are owed consideration because they’re famous.

It doesn’t work like that. It never did.

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’til Death: The Man Who Balked

A pennant is on the line and a life hangs in the balance!

When local baseball player Junior Jones receives death threats over the color of his skin, the team’s wealthy owner hires Sam Rockwell to solve the case and stop a murder before it happens. Sam goes undercover as a minor league pitcher to strike out the culprit. Follow the clues along with Sam’s curmudgeonly ghost of a father Frank Rockwell, and Sam’s wife Amelia, who holds a secret that will forever change the lives of the entire Rockwell family.

It’s another laugh-filled, madcap mystery in the warm, witty 1950’s Hollywood-style of author Jason Anspach.

 

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Adam Pontipee: Profiles in Manhood

Adam Pontipee is a man. A man’s man. A real man.

Played by Howard Keel in the MGM Classic, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Adam Pontipee was a rugged outdoorsman. Scratching a life for himself through hard mountain farming alongside his six brothers (Benjamin, Caleb, Dan, Ephraim, Frank(incense), and Gideon, Adam Pontipee tamed the wilds of Oregon Territory, blazing a trail for the hipsters who now squat on the land.

But is he the sort of man other men should strive to emulate? To find out, let’s go to the tale of the tape!

The Laudable

Can plow twenty acres in a day and drop a tree within an inch of where he wants it.
Can use the power of song to make reality bend to his will, as if calling upon a cosmic force through melody to achieve pioneer Kismet.
Went to town to get himself a wife. Got a wife.
Can lick all six of his brothers.
Full of homespun wisdom: “Well, Pa used to say love is kind of like the measles. You only get it once. The older you are, the tougher it goes.”
A better singer and dancer than Benjamin.



The Suspect

Tricked Milly into marrying him without telling her he still had six brothers living at home.
Convinced his brothers to each abduct an eligible young lady from town, using Roman history as justification.
Mispronounced Sabine as Sobbin’.
First child was a daughter; blamed it on his wife.
Actively discouraged his wife’s attempts to make his brothers jackdandies, thus improving their marital prospects.
Not as handsome as Benjamin.

Verdict: Emulate with Caution

The writer recommends you do, as a man, emulate the finer qualities of Adam Pontipee. This includes expert axemanship, tree felling, beard and mustache growth, persuasive singing, barn raising fisticuffs, and pioneering.

The reader must resist the urge to kidnap any potential mates or love interests, no matter how persuasive the song enticing them to do so. While it is admirable to meet and marry your spouse in one day, it is worth noting that such a relationship ought not be rife with lies of omission.

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May the 4th: The Forgotten Secret of Star Wars

I love a lot of things about Star Wars. From the snap-hiss of a lightsaber to the insanely cool visual of s-foils locked into attack position. I adore the brash rogue who makes good in Han Solo, the imposing presence of Darth Vader, the enthusiastic wonder of Rey, and the criminally underrated character of Lando Calrissian.

Now, I know I’m not alone in my love for this franchise. Star Wars has become part of our cultural pantheon. But there’s something about the 1977 release that gets overlooked in the way books and movies are created and consumed nowadays.

I’ll give you a hint:

And then BOOM! John Williams’ fanfare turned up to eleven and there was no looking back.

To fully understand how important those words were to the people sitting in theaters throughout that amazing summer, we need to remember the feel of science fiction at the time. It was often dark, bleak, and carried a morality tale about the hubris (and eventual downfall) of mankind the way Yoda carried his gimer stick.

Don’t believe me? Think back to Planet of the Apes (1968) – “You maniacs! You blew it up!” Logan’s Run (1976), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) – “I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Soylent Green (1973).

Classics. Entertaining, all of them. But also, kind of a drag. And it went back to films like The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951). Each one focusing on the shortcomings of mankind, the foibles that spelled our demise. Couple that with the real life legacy audiences lived through like the energy crisis, Vietnam, the U.S.S.R., Iran, inflation and–Whew!–depressing, right?

Enter, A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

What those nine words did was tell the audience that they could relax and enjoy what came next. It gave the moviegoer permission to forget about whether this could scientifically happen or not, whether it spoke as an allegory for the problems of the day. It was about getting lost in a fantastic adventure. (This is why the prequels suffered. Also, midichlorians).

What Star Wars did in 1977 was give audiences permission to have fun at a sci-fi movie. And with that established, everything exploded. Audiences hissed at Darth Vader, cheered when the Death Star exploded, and argued over whether Han, Luke, or neither would win Leia’s heart throughout the years leading to The Empire Strikes Back’s release.

As a writer, I try to take my cue from Star Wars’ iconic opening line. Just like the late 1970’s, there’s no shortage of things to worry about. We’ve experienced long wars, political and social turmoil, economic hardship, and bad music.

There are plenty of writers, directors, and politicians determined to beat us over the head with how much things can suck.

Not me.

I write a paranormal noire series about a fake-it-til-you-make it Detective named Sam Rockwell living in the 1950s who specializes in working with Returns, or ghosts who come back with unfinished business. It’s a funny world of an America lost that never existed outside of old Hollywood movies, but hey, that’s the point.

I write ‘til Death because I believe there’s a lot of us out there who want to open a book and know that, for however long they choose to stay in the world of the page, they’re allowed have fun. Based on the feedback I’ve received from my readers, and the love showed for Episode VII, I think I’m right.

This article originally appeared on TheKatyBlog.

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