Chuck Wendig's Blog, page 54

Lucky Annie LeBlanc: Christian Swingers And Other Strange Song Inspirations

[image error]The Misbehavin’ Maidens are a nerd-folk comedy quartet based in Maryland, known for NSFW parodies and originals about fandoms, feminism, and LGBTQIAP+ inclusivity. The Kickstarter for their third album , “Swearing is Caring,” went live April 11-May 10, 2019.

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Three of us, plus our designated Booth Minion, were piled into a car, on our way to perform at a fandom convention in Virginia. We’d hit the point in the journey where fatigue had set in and the conversation had stopped flowing. Our driver, Saber, grew restless as the passengers became increasingly absorbed in their phones.

I was one of those passengers, idly scrolling through some online news, when I stopped and said, “What the FUCK.”

“What is it?” Saber asked, eager for a distraction from the tedium of I-95.

“I just found an article on… Christian swingers?”

“WHAT.” (Saber was raised a conservative Christian and now teaches sexual education at an adult toy store.)

“Some Christians are using swinging as an… evangelism tool, apparently.” (See for youself.)

“How would that even work? That is the WORST pillowtalk ever,” Saber said.

The other passengers, Flint and Maggie, snapped out of their phone hypnosis.

“‘Wow, that sex was amazing, but you know what’s better? JESUS,’” somebody chimed in. We started giggling. And then we started riffing on other terrible things to say after sex. We looped in our fourth band member, Rouge (who was stuck at work), via the group chat, and began tossing ideas back and forth.

“Like, ‘Oh, baby, I can’t wait for my wife to meet you!’”

“‘Have I got a timeshare deal for YOU.’”

“‘Mmmm, won’t you back my Kickstarter, sweet thang?’”

“‘Now, get comfortable as I set up my PowerPoint projector…’”

The laughter built, and before five minutes had gone by, Saber said, “OK, OK, I am writing this song when I get home.” And that song, “Pillowtalk,” is on our soon-to-be-released third album. (Psst, you can back the Kickstarter here!)

Our best song ideas seem to come from random, goofy banter. I was hanging out with my boyfriend and getting ready to volunteer at the library one day. As I gathered my purse and coat, the conversation became a very silly flirting sesh in which we kept trying to one-up each other with terrible, library-themed sex puns.

“My pleasure’s feeling overdue…”

“My bits are Dewey…”

“Let’s make the graphic novel section even more graphic…”

A few months later, the lyrics and music for “Bibliophilia” were finalized.

One of our lyrics is even the result of a Mad Lib we were doing in the car during an exhausting 11-hour drive home from a convention in Massachusetts. After filling in an adjective and a body part (plural), the phrase “sandpapery balls” was coined, cringed at, and eventually worked into our “Pump Shanty” parody, which is all about the importance of using lubricant.

A lot of our songs would not exist if it weren’t for us paying attention to silly conversational tangents; and writing down potential song fodder, even if it’s half-baked, can be a lifesaver during periods of writer’s block. (Side note: I recently blanked on the term “writer’s block” and said “creativity oubliette” instead, which I actually like much better. Feel free to steal that if you want.)

People writing stories and songs can find inspiration from the strangest of places – the key is to practice being open to it. When something strikes an emotional chord with you – that funny thing you saw on the subway, the nonsensical word combination stuck in your head for no reason, the Creamed Corn Incident – jot it down. You never know when it’ll come in handy.

Where are some unexpected places you’ve found inspiration?

Macro Monday Wrestles With The Demons Of Our Time

Once again I return from the shadows of the Battle Realm where I have been waging war against the Chronomancers and the Spatial Guild for control of all time and space, and I pop in for just a little while to leave you with a blog post chonkin’ full of news and photos, both of which are a soothing unguent — a mighty spiritual balm! — against the depredations of our era. Let us begin.

Two stars are like two thumbs up, I’m pretty sure. Hey, check it out — Wanderers has earned its second star from the Major Book Review Sites. This time, from Kirkus! Note that the review is just a teeny wee bit spoilery. Or you can just scan this mighty nice takeaway: “Anyone who’s touched on Wendig’s oeuvre, let alone his lively social media presence, knows he’s a full-voiced political creature who’s less concerned with left and right than the chasm between right and wrong, and that impulse is fully on display here. Wendig has stretched his considerable talents beyond the hyperkinetic horror that is his wheelhouse to deliver a story about survival that’s not just about you and me, but all of us, together. Wendig is clearly wrestling with some of the demons of our time, resulting in a story that is ambitious, bold, and worthy of attention.” You can pre-order Wanderers in print, e-book (Kindle, Nook, Apple Books, Kobo), and audio. And if you do pre-order? You get some swaggy swag.

Dead things and sweet stuff. Speaking of reviews, Locus did a nice review of Death & Honey.

Hey do you remember when I did some Stars and some Wars? You may have noticed that there was a celestial pop culture event this weekend — in addition to the tectonic release of the first episode of the final season of Game of Thrones, we also got a Star Wars trailer for Episode IX, and apparently no trailer for The Mandalorian. (I confess I’ll never understand why they make things like commercials con-exclusive. I get that con-goers deserve cool stuff, and they get swag and an experience and opportunity, but then in streaming the panel they blacked out the trailer for people and — like, why? You’re guaranteeing that people at home can’t get excited for this new show that’s going to launch your new streaming service which you probably really need to work. Also GET OFF MY LAWN YOU DANG KIDS.) Point is! A lot of people are like, with the advent of a Mandolorian-armored dude on Tatooine, and a fresh theoretical return of The Emperor (Sheev aka “Steve” Palpatine), that surely means finally, finally we’re seeing some Aftermath content creep into the screen stuff. And my only answer to this is: maybe? I dunno. They don’t tell me anything. It certainly would line up and make sense to mine those books for some data points, at least — but, at the same time? Film and TV leads the train, and most stuff kinda follows along behind it. I also wouldn’t be surprised if Abrams and Favreau aren’t even particularly aware of the trilogy’s existence. (See Favreau’s comments about how nobody has explored the time after Return of the Jedi yet. Um. Uhh. Uh?) So! Now’s a good time to read that trilogy if you wanna enjoy some speculative fun! But trust me when I say, I have no idea if anything crossed over or not. The Mary Sue has a good explainer and request, though!

Needless to say, I’m fucking geeked. It is probably not news that I’m excited for new Star Wars. I have my own precious fan theories and desires, but I suppose I should relegate them to their own post?

And now, pretty pretty photos. Here, have some. Take two, they’re small.

Macro Monday Is A Contented Avocet

Why yes, it’s that time again! I come into your life. I show you pretty pictures of things. But before I do, I parade before you a series of personal news items in the hopes that some of them invoke an electrochemical response in your brain and stimulate something approximating joy!

Let us begin.

In which I visit a mysterious galaxy. As I’ll likely be at San Diego Comic-Con, I’ll also get to hang out at one of my favorite bookstores, Mysterious Galaxy. My first adult-pants book-signing ever was actually at the Redondo Beach branch of the store (*pours a little on the curb for that lost store*) so I’m excited to go back to share Wanderers. I’ll be there Monday, the 22nd, and I see an event page has popped up on Facebook. I’ll also be adding some other bookstore visits to the list in the coming week or two. Keep your eyes peeled. Uh. Not literally, though, put that melonballer down.

T-Minus three months. At this point, Wanderers is less than three months away. Holy shit, how did that happen? This has been a long row to hoe, getting this book written and edited and out into the world. Did you know you can add it to Goodreads? You can.

The Continental is open. Episode two of Chuck & Anthony Ragna– uhh, I mean, The Continental? — is up. We’ve got one more to finish out John Wick, and then we’ve a new one we recorded tackling the first episode of the new Twilight Zone (“The Comedian”). Which you can watch online, for free, btw. Two other shows you should be watching, btw? Killing Eve and Billions.

And now, the photos. Here, have some more photos.

Including the titular “contented avocet.”

Which is also my spy name.

Have a nice day, folks.

Oh, Hello, What’s This? Wanderers? Maybe Coming To Your TV Or Streaming Device?

So, Wanderers, that little 800-page pamphlet I have coming out in July? It has been optioned for television by QC Entertainment (story here at Deadline). QC Entertainment (in this case, Sean McKittrick, Ray Mansfield, with Ilene Staple) really grokked the material and, for fear of being too damn punny, serve as excellent shepherds of the series. (*eyebrow waggle*) Plus, they have a pretty great track record as of late, what with films like Get Out, BlacKKKlansman, and Us. This would be their first foray into TV, and I’m thrilled they chose Wanderers for that role. Thanks to them for nabbing it, and to my agent Stacia Decker at DCL as well as Josie Freedman at ICM, for helping making this happen.

(The Mary Sue did a nice piece about this, as well!)

I should also note that we announced audio narrators, too, for the book! Onboard are two narrators (ooh): Dominic Hoffman and Xe Sands. Hoffman is a veteran not just of voice acting, but also of film, TV and stage. Xe is herself an amazing narrator, and not one unfamiliar to audio listeners of my work: she narrated both Invasive and Interlude: Tanager. You can check it out at Audible.

You can pre-order Wanderers in print, e-book (Kindle, Nook, Apple Books, Kobo), and audio. And again, if you do pre-order? You can get some swaggy swag. A pin whose full meaning will be revealed to readers of the book…

And soon we should be revealing a small bookstore tour and some other events.

So.

In the meantime, let’s rewind a little bit and talk more about that TV option.

Because at the end of the day, a lot of readers don’t necessarily understand what an option means. Which isn’t readers’ fault, of course — there’s a lot of silly inside baseball shit that goes on and it’s just not prudent to learn what it all adds up to. But given that a lot of people who come here are also writers and may want to be professional writers, it’s good to talk about this stuff.

Let’s say it up front: an option does not mean that they’re going to make a book into a TV or a movie. It certainly means they want to! Or they think it’s doable. People aren’t necessarily optioning shit just to option it — though I’m sure given a lot of free shopping agreements and such, that happens sometimes where people are just forming deep benches of material in case a certain trend takes off. But generally speaking, it’s safe to assume that an option is a marker of genuine intent and faith. Just the same: it is by no means a guarantee that the thing will ever make it to a screen. I’d argue, in fact, the chances of that happening are… nnnyeah, pretty low. I don’t say this to diminish the excellent news of the Wanderers option, and I think this book has a bit of a better shot than my others just because of the passionate team in place and the energy surrounding the book. And we are in a golden age of prestige television, with new streaming services and networks popping up all the time. That creates a deeper well of opportunity. More doors! More choices.

But even still, it has to pass through a whole monster-sized machine of content-delivery.

I am wont to say that in New York Publishing, everything is a no before it’s a yes. Meaning, you’ve got before you the standard path: there are a series of hurdles to overcome, and if a publisher says yes, you’re very likely to see your book on a shelf someday in the next year or so. That’s no guarantee the book will sell well, or that the publisher will support it, or that FIRE BEES won’t DESCEND FROM THE SKY and STING YOU WITH LAVA VENOM, but at least, y’know, there it is. Your book.

Good job. High-five.

In making film and television, things are a bit topsy-turvy: everything is yes before it’s no. You get lots of love for the work upfront — and that love is genuine! But each stage is a new chance to kinda… hip-bump the project off its track. If it ever even gets on track. And along that track, the book can lose its way at the option stage, the pre-development stage, it can even lose its chance after purchase, in proper development. Maybe there was a changing of the executive guard and now nobody at the studio is an advocate for the project. Maybe talent bailed. Maybe trends shifted. Maybe Mercury is in Retrograde or some other celestial misalignment. But that’s not the point of this post — no, we’re here to talk about film/TV options.

The way an option works then is that someone — maybe a writer, though more likely a studio or producer/production company or bag of money spiders — says, “We think we can make this into a movie or TV show,” and then they offer you an amount of money to essentially park themselves over the material like a hen over a nest of eggs. This is a limited period, usually 12-18 months, and it usually affords them one chance to re-up that option for a second term, sometimes for more money. (I had one recently that asked for a third term to be included, and we had to say no, as it would’ve put the book out of contention for years at too low a cost.)

With that deal, you usually also get a parcel of deal points should the film or show get picked up: a purchase price, plus percentages and decisions about whether or not you’re a consultant or a producer in some capacity. Maybe there are escalators or limiters in there (if X, then Y.) There is in my experience and in talking to writers and agents less money upfront for television than there is for film. But, TV can have long legs, too, in terms of multiple seasons, and given that you tend to get money also per episode, that can be lucrative in the long run. Film is often more upfront and often attracts some of the big gun talent, but at the same time, film is increasingly siloed into BIG BLOCKBUSTER PROPERTIES, so. In the case of something like Wanderers, it’s very, very hard to see it as a film. It’s TV. I wrote it like a TV show, with each “part” acting almost as a season of television, so.

There are also weird fiddly bits in these contracts, too — like, they often want comics or games rights scooped up in there. Or novelization rights, which sounds weird, because, what? How could there be a novelization of the novel? Well, it’s a theoretical novelization of the film/TV version of the novel. It’ll never really happen, because the novel already exists. But it’s a contract thing to be ironed out.

(By the way, authors? In your publishing contract — that is to say, for the book — do not give away your licensing opportunities. They will ask for things like foreign or film/TV, and do not give them up. Sadly, it’s nearly impossible to wrest audio away from them now, though I long for the day we can scrap that one back. Also beware morality clauses, which are popping up!)

(Anyway, back to the option talk.)

Once the deal is signed, what happens?

Well, sometimes a lot… and sometimes, a lot of nothing.

Ideally, an ecosystem forms around the project. Talent comes together and they start generating the shape of the thing and the specifics and eventually they shop it around to see if there’s someone who will actually pay to make this thing. (And it’s worth noting here that if that happens, if there’s a purchase, the eventual buyer can theoretically re-negotiate those deal points. This is something I did not know until recently! A studio or network can say, “We can’t pay this purchase price, so what about 30% of it, instead?” and then the writer has to say, SURE, or FUCK THAT. Sure means it gets made, but you get less than you agreed to. Fuck That means, you’re back to square one, or maybe square two, at best.)

So, in a perfect world, people start coming together to figure out the shape and direction of the thing. But it can also just sorta sit there. In fact, a lot of times? It just sorta sits there.

The original Blackbirds is a good example in all directions of how weird this process can be. In that, we got optioned by Starz, and then entered into a long period of development — scripts and location scouting and people in offices doing work, but all that was still under the option. Meaning, it had not gone to purchase and was not officially in development. (I should note here I asked the publisher of that book not to emblazon upon the cover a big COMING TO TV sigil, because an option is not a promise, but they did it anyway ha ha oh). And then one day, as I understand it, the network had a chance to grab for another more expensive show called American Gods, and they went for it. Which meant they couldn’t really afford us, and they also didn’t want to have two “dark urban fantasy shows” on the air at the same time. (And no harm no foul to this: honestly, I would’ve bought American Gods too over Blackbirds, c’mon. I’ve been waiting for that show for like, 15 years.)

So, that was that.

And now a lot of people ask me about, when will Blackbirds be optioned again? And my answer to them is… a cagey one? Because, hey, what if it was already optioned for the last year-and-a-half? What if a company optioned it, and then re-optioned it for its second term? And nobody knew because the company never announced it? That’s sometimes a thing. I’m not saying it’s a thing here! But it certainly might be. Sometimes, books are optioned and the people who option it never announce that. Which is a mistake, of course, because one of the really nice things about an announcement is that it gives the publisher something to take to their sales teams in terms of pushing the book through to distribution channels. It may help with foreign rights sales, too. And it just in general adds to the energy of the book. It’s good for everyone to announce that stuff.

*stares into camera for no reason at all related to Blackbirds*

*clears throat*

So, you make the deal, your agent (or manager, or lawyer, or all of the above) take their cuts, and you get paid… like, eventually. Sometimes you get paid fast? Sometimes you get paid slooooow. Sometimes they try to hold the option for far longer than they should, because they set weirdly artificial start dates for the option (“We don’t feel like we really began the option term until we felt it in our hearts, which happened yesterday”). Sometimes they want just a shopping agreement, which is a form of free option where the writer gets no money for giving exclusive rights for someone to shop the work around, usually for a reduced period of time. Sometimes this makes sense if, say, it’s a screenwriter with limited capital taking it around — but also recognize that they may have accrued shopping agreements for dozens of projects, because if they’re free, why not? It tends to be true that in all things (publishing and film/TV) the more money someone spends, the more attention they will give it, because it is an investment to them, not a throwaway.

Hopefully that’s a little bit illustrative. None of this is particularly concrete, and there exist shitloads of variable options not included in here. But it’s a good primer, I think, on how it works. It’s a very nice thing for an author to have the option — and ideally, an option with people who really get and care about the project (as I think we’ve done with Wanderers). We were fortunate to be in a position where multiple bidders were onboard, which is exciting. And all those people were really great, and had killer plans for the book, but you can only go with one person, and QC was the best for this book, I felt. Thanks to them for being invested in it, and it’d be great to see Wanderers on screen some day. Fingers, toes and tentacles crossed.

(Just don’t forget to read the book.)

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Caitlin Starling: Five Things I Learned Writing The Luminous Dead

When Gyre Price lied her way into this expedition, she thought she’d be mapping mineral deposits, and that her biggest problems would be cave collapses and gear malfunctions. She also thought that the fat paycheck—enough to get her off-planet and on the trail of her mother—meant she’d get a skilled surface team, monitoring her suit and environment, keeping her safe. Keeping her sane.

Instead, she got Em.

Em sees nothing wrong with controlling Gyre’s body with drugs or withholding critical information to “ensure the smooth operation” of her expedition. Em knows all about Gyre’s falsified credentials, and has no qualms using them as a leash—and a lash. And Em has secrets, too . . .

As Gyre descends, little inconsistencies—missing supplies, unexpected changes in the route, and, worst of all, shifts in Em’s motivations—drive her out of her depths. Lost and disoriented, Gyre finds her sense of control giving way to paranoia and anger. On her own in this mysterious, deadly place, surrounded by darkness and the unknown, Gyre must overcome more than just the dangerous terrain and the Tunneler which calls underground its home if she wants to make it out alive—she must confront the ghosts in her own head.

But how come she can’t shake the feeling she’s being followed?

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Caves are terrifying!

I can count the number of caves I have physically been in on one hand. I’m a control freak and an indoor cat; while I enjoy rock climbing, I vastly prefer it in a climate-controlled, well-monitored gym. A dark, wet, cold cavern with uneven footing is a hard no for me.

And that was before I started doing the research.

According to some accounts, cavers on long expeditions lose up to a pound and a half of body weight per day. Per day! And then there’s The Rapture. Being away from sunlight and restricting use of your battery-powered light to active climbing time has serious psychological impacts. Your circadian rhythms are fucked and in the absence of light, the brain starts creating its own visual stimulation. It’s commonly held that everybody, after a certain point, will go through The Rapture, the mother of all panic attacks, anxiety turned up to eleven.

And then there’s everything else that can go wrong (injuries, illness, death…), and how hard it is to get your body out of that cave. Break your arm so that you can’t climb out on your own? Expect to be in there for at least a few days, if not weeks, while your companions (you have those, right? Right?) climb out to get help, then come back down and rig up a way to get you to safety.

But caves are also magical. They’re beautiful, powerful, and intrinsically fascinating to many. They’re the underworld. They’re tombs. They’re passages to a far-away land. They have seasons just like the surface does, but they look, feel, taste different. They have a respiratory system and change and grow over time. And for those of us brave enough to challenge them, they represent some of the last unexplored corners of the planet.

In other words, caves are perfect for a story.

Restriction begets creativity

Caves are intrinsically well suited to stories of terror, what with the built-in isolation and physical danger. Movies like The Descent use both to push characters to extremes, heightening interpersonal dynamics, encouraging teams to break down.

But in The Luminous Dead, Gyre is physically on her own in that cave, so there were limitations on what I could do to her. I don’t have a large cast I can kill off or maim horribly. I can play the can you trust your team card with her handler, Em, but with just two characters, I can’t rely on alliances and subsequent betrayals to keep the landscape ever-changing. I have fewer of the traditional tools available to ratchet up the tension.

So I turned to other, subtler restrictions for Gyre and, therefore, myself. Visible light is potentially dangerous in the cave, which leaves Gyre using a sonar-based reconstruction. That means there are no colors. Her suit seals her off from her surroundings, so there goes smell and some forms of touch. That makes it harder to describe a real-feeling setting for the reader, but it also means I can explore the impact on Gyre of not having those senses available to her for weeks at a time.

And what happens if one of her computer-simulated senses makes different interpretations of the world around her than her brain would have on its own?

Lay out the rules like an elaborate domino design, and then watch them fall as the plot lurches into motion.

There are lots of ways to poop

Speaking of restrictions, spending a month sealed inside an armored suit in order to minimize any heat or other bodily inputs into the cave has some interesting side effects. Feeding tubes, catheters, all gross but all sensible.

But what about pooping?

In my early drafts, I handwaved the issue, but something about the handwave was deeply unsettling. She produced waste canisters. But from where? How did that work? Was there a literal chute—

Yeah, no. That would be uncomfortable.

The answer came from a family member being diagnosed with colon cancer. This led to a lot of research on my part, totally unrelated to the book, about what treatment would likely look like. And that’s where I learned about reversible colostomies. Turns out that’s a thing! Current medicine can reroute your bowel to a port on your stomach, and then reverse it once the need for it is gone– or they can leave it in place indefinitely, if necessary. They can also make internal colostomies that you manually flush at intervals, instead of the traditional bag on the outside.

That meant, first, that I could have a much more elegant solution (the food canisters that plug into Gyre’s side for access to the feeding tube could double as waste canisters), and second, it is, thanks to its specificity, far grosser and prone to specific complications during the course of the book.

I am 100% still afraid of the dark

I get a lot of people telling me that they would love to read The Luminous Dead, but are too afraid to. And I get it! I, personally, am a complete wimp when it comes to horror movies. I have an anxiety disorder, and sometimes I can’t sleep because I’m convinced there’s an ax murderer hiding in my closet. I am twenty-eight years old and still literally afraid of the dark.

But being so (ahem) in touch with my fear makes it easier for me to channel that terror onto the page in order to scare those of you who can stomach it. I know a hundred variations of panic. I know what it feels like, how it screws with decision making, and how unpredictable rhythms of fear are so much worse (read: more interesting) than constant terror.

Sorry about the lost sleep, though.

Write the book you want to write

When I started The Luminous Dead, I didn’t think it would ever sell.

When I queried The Luminous Dead, I didn’t think it would ever sell.

When we went on submission, I didn’t think it would ever sell.

The Luminous Dead was a book I wrote because I had a few ideas while otherwise in a writing slump. I wanted to prove to myself that I could write and finish an original novel, and it wasn’t until I’d typed The End on the first draft and sat there going oh no, it’s good that I considered that other people might read it. It’s a messy, twisty book, and it’s about two women who hate and love one another– something that I assumed had limited appeal and, moreover, something that I wasn’t sure I was good enough to say anything about.

But while I was shocked to learn that I was wrong about both those things, I never once thought that I shouldn’t try as hard as I could with my funky little draft. My fears didn’t mean I shouldn’t write it, or revise it, or query it. At each step, I had a moment where I realized I owed it to myself to see just how far Gyre and Em could go.

And now the book is out in the world, and while I’m terrified nobody will read it (the fear never entirely goes away, it just becomes a familiar companion), I can say confidently that I did them proud.

* * *

Bio: Caitlin Starling is a writer of horror-tinged speculative fiction of all flavors. Her first novel, The Luminous Dead, comes out from HarperVoyager on April 2, 2019. It tells the story of a caver on a foreign planet who finds herself trapped, with only her wits and the unreliable voice on her radio to help her back to the surface. Caitlin also dabbles in narrative design for interactive theater and games, and is always on the lookout for new ways to inflict insomnia. Find more of her work at www.caitlinstarling.com and follow her at @see_starling on Twitter.

Caitlin Starling: Website | Twitter

The Luminous Dead: Print | Kindle | Apple Books | Nook

Brian McClellan: Five Things I Learned Writing Uncanny Collateral

Alek Fitz is a reaper, a collection agent who works for the supernatural elements of the world, tracking down debtors and solving problems for clients as diverse as the Lords of Hell, vampires, Haitian loa, and goblins. He’s even worked for the Tooth Fairy on occasion. Based out of Cleveland, Ohio, Alek is the best in the game. As a literal slave to his job, he doesn’t have a choice.

When Death comes looking for someone to track down a thief, Alek is flung into a mess of vengeful undead, supernatural bureaucracy, and a fledgling imp war. As the consequences of failure become dire, he has few leads, and the clock is ticking. Only with the help of his friend Maggie—an ancient djinn with a complex past—can he hope to recover the stolen property, save the world, and just maybe wring a favor out of the Great Constant himself.

It’s a hell of a job, but somebody’s got to do it . . .

* * *

REAL LIFE CAN BE THE BEST INSPIRATION

Uncanny Collateral is a book about a collection agent that works for the supernatural elements of this world out of an office in a little town outside of Cleveland, Ohio. My last job before becoming a full time author was working for a collection agency in a little town outside of Cleveland, Ohio. See any similarities? Nah, me neither.

The idea came to me one afternoon while I was having lunch in the parking garage outside. I was, as you can imagine, very bored and prone to daydreaming. What if the Lords of Hell used collection agents? What if vampires did? Heck, what if the bureaucracy of the world was set up in such a way so that any supernatural element that makes deals with humanity is forced to turn to a third party whenever someone doesn’t pay up? You can’t just have the Tooth Fairy stealing into homes in the dead of night with a pair of pliers, after all. You have people who do this job, and those people are somewhere between Harry Dresden and Dog the Bounty Hunter.

SOMETIMES LESS IS MORE

Some of you may know me as a guy who writes big, fat flintlock epic fantasy novels. I made my career with the Powder Mage Trilogy—the shortest of which clocks in at a whopping 165K words (550 pages) in length. So when I sat down to write this new thing in a genre that typically floats around half that length, my initial instinct was always to go long.

And I went super long. I wrote several first acts that were each 40K words. None of these drafts satisfied either me or my agent. I fiddled. I changed the tense from first person to third and then back to first. Nothing seemed to fit. I finally sat down and just started writing without any goal or structure in mind. As the first couple of chapters flowed by, that structure began to take shape organically in the back of my head and I realized that I didn’t want to write just a typical urban fantasy. This book needed to be something that hit hard and fast, able to be read in a couple of sittings. No dissembling or wandering, no multiple viewpoints. It finally clocked in at 45K words, which is either a very long novella or a very short novel, depending on who you ask. If you ask me, the length is perfect.

THE BAD GUY IS NEVER WHO YOU THINK IT IS

Working for a collection agency always made me feel a little icky. I was now the guy on the other end of the phone calling innocent folks in the middle of the day demanding that they hand over their hard-earned money. But even with that icky feeling, I never really felt like I was the bad guy. Those innocent folks I called in the middle of the day had still signed (often stupid) contracts with my clients. I had people swear at or threaten me. I was abused, disregarded, and hung up on. I was hung up on a LOT.

The thing that always stuck with me was how debtors never blamed themselves for being talked into getting a fourth credit card or a cell phone from a carrier no one has ever heard of. And they rarely blamed the company who had hired me to collect the money. Nope, they definitely blamed me for having the gall to call them up on a Tuesday afternoon asking them to fork over $150 for that ad they placed three years ago. I enjoyed this whole process so much that I came up with a character whose job it was to track down people who’d sold their souls and then had the audacity to run for it.

And then my character punches those stupid people in the face.

SELF-PUBLISHING IS MORE WORK THAN MOST PEOPLE WILL ADMIT

I’m not a stranger to self-publishing. Since my second book came out, I’ve been writing supplemental stories in the Powder Mage Universe and putting them out for cheap. They give the readers a little something extra to explore in-world, they give me a nice little side income, and my publisher stays happy knowing I’m strengthening the overall brand.

Uncanny Collateral, however, is my first self-published stand-alone. I’m not able to lean on an existing fanbase, or piggy-back releases a couple months after my latest traditionally published novel. I didn’t even have a font to copy for the cover. Even with my previous experience, starting from scratch turned out to be a whole lot of extra work and cost quite a bit of money. It has really made me appreciate the support system that I get from my publisher—and it’ll definitely help me enjoy the higher royalty I earn putting this out myself.

THE RUST BELT IS SUPER UNDER-REPRESENTED

One of my favorite things about this book is that it’s set in my hometown. I grew up in Geauga County, Ohio, but like anyone who was raised in the boonies outside a big city, I just tell everyone I’m from Cleveland. I don’t mind admitting that I have that Midwest chip on my shoulder when I see that every big story happens in a big place. LA, Chicago, New York, DC. As a storyteller, I get why the action happens in those place, I really do. But it still annoys the hell out of me. I set out to write a story about a Cleveland guy working a Cleveland job.

And the crazy thing is how many people come out of the woodwork to tell me they share that Midwest chip and how happy they are to see an Ohio story. I’ve been talking about this book for a couple months now, and I’ve gotten a not-insignificant amount of fan mail based just on the blurb. As a rust belt kid, that really does warm my soul.

* * *

Brian McClellan is an American epic fantasy author from Cleveland, Ohio. He is known for his acclaimed Powder Mage Universe and essays on the life and business of being a writer.

Brian now lives on the side of a mountain in Utah with his wife, Michele, where he writes books and nurses a crippling video game addiction.

Brian McClellan: Website | Twitter

Uncanny Collateral: Amazon | B&N | Hardcover Direct

The Wandering Wendig Is Back From His Pacific Exile

I HAVE RETURNED FROM MY MISERABLE EXILE IN THE TROPICS. Oh, woe upon woe, what a wretched existence ’twas, what with the warm air that felt like nice bathwater, or the beautiful breezes, or the coastal waters whose blue color are almost unearthly, or the amazing food, or the cocktails, or the toes pilling in beach sand. WOEBETIDE, WAS I.

(Oh, and before we continue, none of this is a fucking April Fool’s Day prank. We are living in an unprecedented era of foolishness; no need for me to pile more on top.)

Went there for a combo-pack of vacation and some research. Big Island, Hawaii, with a brief stopover in Hawaii. Took the family, too, and had some weird heath bumps along the way — I had a bloody nose that didn’t wanna heal, my wife and I both got colds, our son had hives, then he got sick (motion-sick?) on the plane ride back, and now jet-lag has taken us all down to jetlagtown. Nothing particularly serious (outside of my son having like, no appetite since returning), but a mild blotch on an otherwise lovely time. The boy is finally coming back to normal, today, which is nice. I no longer feel like a floating head attached to a draggy pile of spine and viscera, so that’s a plus.

Anyway! On the trip we saw whales. We saw waterfalls. I saw a creepy cardboard cut-out of Jesus creepily holding a creepy cardboard cut-out of a creepy child. It was beachy and tropical.

I of course have pictures, seen mostly at the bottom of this post.

And more will surely come. (A slowly-growing album can be found here on Flickr.)

Some quick news bits, though —

Wanderers received a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly! (Review here.) Best takeaway sentence is maybe this one: “This career-defining epic deserves its inevitable comparisons to Stephen King’s The Stand, easily rising above the many recent novels of pandemic and societal collapse.” Though the first sentence of the review is good, too: “Wendig (the Miriam Black series) pulls no punches in this blockbuster apocalyptic novel, which confronts some of the darkest and most divisive aspects of present-day America with urgency, humanity, and hope.”

It’s a very nice review, and my first starred review from PW, I believe.

A reminder that you can pre-order the book and get a cool Shepherd pin, marking you as a Shepherd of the novel before it comes out. Also, I think we’re finalizing some bookstore visits this week. I’ll also be at BookCon, San Diego ComicCon, and DFWCon in the next few months, and I’ll be doing a reading at KGB in New York with Keith DeCandido.

A new Wanderers promo e-card, too:

I think we’ll also soon be talking about audiobook narrators and I might even have a nifty piece of news this week, as early as tomorrow. (Again, no, this isn’t April Fool’s related. It’s real. I swear!)

In the meantime, hey, have some Hawaii and California photos.

Pre-Order Wanderers, Become A Shepherd For The Book

Hey? Psst. Psst. Have you pre-ordered Wanderers yet? If you have — or if you’re planning to! — you can get a cool bonus: it’s a Shepherd pin, designed to look like an Interstate sign. Signifies that you’re one of the shepherds, walking with the sleepwalker flock, ushering them to their mysterious destination.

Thanks to Del Rey and PRH for setting this up — getting the preorder bonus is easy, just go to this website at Penguin Random House, upload an image of your pre-order receipt, and that will set you up to receive your Shepherd pin. (Note, too, if you click that link you can get a fairy tiny preview of my new author photo. Oooooh. Because who doesn’t want to look at my BEARDO FACE? Gaze upon it! Learn its secrets! Submit to its writhing cilia!)

You can preorder in print, eBook, or audio. (More robust pre-order list available at above link.)

In less than four months, the sleepwalkers walk…

Mayo On Grilled Cheese (And Other Controversial Food Opinions)

Listen, Eaters-of-Grilled-Cheese, put some fucking mayo on the outside of the bread before you pop it in the pan. Yes, instead of butter. Sure, you can still put butter in the pan if you really want. Yes, you heard me right. Mayo. Yes, that mayo, the mayo you know and love, not some different mayo. The mayo you think is gross. Yes, it’ll make your grilled cheese sandwich better. No, I have not lost my mind. I mean, maybe I have, but that’s more the fault of —

*gestures broadly*

— than anything related to food.

Okay, listen. Listen. Mayo isn’t some industrial food product. If you buy Duke’s mayonnaise (and you should), it contains the following ingredients:

Soybean oil, eggs, water, distilled and cider vinegar, salt, oleoresin paprika, natural flavors, calcium disodium EDTA.

That last one sounds weird, but it’s safe. Admittedly, “natural flavors” is a little vague, and could mean anything from “oregano” to “turns out, if you milk the sphincter of a corn-fed raccoon’s butthole, it produces a sphinctorial unguent that tastes a lot like butterscotch.” Hopefully in this case it’s more the former and less the latter.

The key thing here is that mayo is egg, fat, and acid.

When you bake, ever use an egg wash? Makes that baked good all nice and toasty-roasty brown, yeah? Same idea here. It evenly browns the outside of the grilled cheese while simultaneously lubing the pan (mayo is really just food lube, after all) and also giving you a little of that acid tang.

And by the way, also put some mustard on the grilled cheese.

Inside, not out. Mayo: outside. Mustard: inside.

It’s good. Just trust me. Dijon is good, honey mustard is fine, but honestly, so is straight-up YELLA MUSTARD. And while we’re here talking about mustard, that whole thing that In-N-Out does with cooking the patties in mustard? Yeah, that’s real tasty. Do that, too.

Let’s see, what are some other controversial food opinions I have?

You’ve seen The Sandwich. (Note: should be renamed to Chnurk Mandog to avoid any kind of cultural appropriation, my bad, oops, sorry. Not my intent!)

Cheesesteaks are the fake Philly sandwich — the real sandwich is roast pork and rabe.

Fish sauce goes in damn near everything. Sometimes Asian-style. Other times, Worcestershire. And yes, Worcestershire is fish sauce. Some people seem surprised by that? It’s umami, frandos.

“Clean” food is not a thing, that’s some Goop shit, don’t fall for it.

I do not believe a paleo or keto diet is necessarily healthy. If you like it, do it up, and I’m glad you found something that works for you. I do not believe science backs up most claims about such diets, unless you have specific conditions like epilepsy. Honestly, most diet trends are weird, and your best bet is simply the classic one: decrease calories, increase how much you move your body. But, YMMV.

I think being a vegetarian or vegan is great, both for flavor and for ethical betterment of our world. I also think a lot of vegetarians I know around these parts don’t eat enough actual fruits and vegetables, which is weird to say, but there you go. Regardless, I’ve cut meat consumption, though I won’t ever be able to cut it out entirely, because I’m a monster. (Though, I had the Impossible Burger, and holy shit. And that Just scrambled egg substitute was a capable imitation of scramby-eggs.)

We should be eating more bugs. Bugs are good, actually. To eat. Also for the world.

Pineapple pizza is fine. Relax.

And no, you probably can’t eat a pineapple the way that viral video wants you to.

Chicago deep dish pizza is delicious, also not pizza, but really just the baby of that time an inflatable mattress fucked a pan of lasagna. Still: delicious.

Kale is fine, but really needs the kale boiled out of it. Great in soup.

Don’t order steak at a restaurant. Nine times out of ten, you can do that at home.

You shouldn’t put butter on your pancakes / waffles / French toasts — and hold on, before you start yelling — because putting cold butter on the hot breakfast confection (which to be clear is really just cake) will cool it down unnecessarily. Also, you use too much syrup. I have a single fix for both of these, which is this: melt the butter you would normally use on your breakfast cake in a glass measuring cup, then add in some syrup. Real maple, if you have it. Warm that up, too, then whisk it together and serve over the breakfast cake. The fat carries flavor, which means it extends the sugar taste of the syrup like an extra warranty from Flavortown oh god I’m Guy Fieriing this I’m sorry. But still, the point stands: use a little more butter, melt it into the syrup, and you get butter flavor liquified on everything, and you can use less of the sugar stuff.

What else, what else.

Spam is good. Shut up, it is. Fried is best. And Spam musubi? Hnngh.

Your detestation of American Cheese is maybe misplaced. Yes, some of it is plasticky and creepy, but not all of it. Also it’s often the best thing to melt on a burger. I know, it’s “cheese product” and not cheese but you probably believe a buncha bullshit about this, like it’s got pieces of tire in it or antifreeze or something. Seriously, here is a very good unpacking of what American cheese actually is, and the things it is good for. And if you want an amazing melty American cheese, Cooper Cheese is your new favorite, trust me. Just don’t throw it at your cats or babies.

Your detestation of mayo might be misplaced, too. It’s fine not to like it, but to be repulsed by it — okay, sure, I blame the 1950s where American households wanted “fancy food” to go with newfound ideas of suburban wealth but didn’t know how to make it, so they just tried to fancify a bunch of stuff: “It’s Jell-O with bananas, hot dogs, and a sweetened mayo topping, all served out of crystal goblets.” But honestly, it’s good. It’s versatile. As I said, it makes for most excellent food lube. Also sometimes people make yucky faces when they see cake recipes that call for mayo, but seriously, it totally works, and helps make a very moist cake. (“Moist” is a word that has also gotten a bad wrap. DEFENDERS OF MOISTNESS, COME TOGeaaaaoh okay I see it, that is a little icky. But mayo in cake is not icky. Mayo on cake is probably nasty, though. So moist.)

Here then is maybe my most controversial food statement: a lot of the things you really hate are classist. And I’ve fallen into this trap, too, trust me, I’m no pure spirit. I’ve fallen prey to the organic hipster non-GMO thing too where it’s like, NO NO I AM AUTHENTIC AND ONLY EAT REAL [insert food product here]. Yes, some things on your grocery shelves contain a wealth of weird ingredients, half of which are corn. But many are also the products of really genius food science, and also are the things that, I dunno, low- or middle-class people can afford to eat. Sure, okay, fast food ain’t great, but consider the great many food deserts (not “desserts”) that exist across the country. Like what you like, absolutely. Dislike what you dislike, yes. Just try to recognize when your biases against “low-class” things also transfer over to people, and be aware how it looks to others when you shit on what are honestly common ingredients and foods. I’m sure I’ve said things in this very post that are privileged or classist, so again, I’m guilty as you are.

So endeth the lecture.

And so endeth my controversial food post.

I’ve probably offended *looks out over the crowd* all of you. And that’s okay! Food is personal. Food is home. And at the end of the day, we should like what we like and don’t like what we don’t like. Huzzah and hooray. Buy my books or I die. Moistly.

Star Wars: A Modest Proposal

I have a Star Wars proposal, and it is this:

It is time to acknowledge that Poe Dameron is the unacknowledged love child of Han Solo and Lando Calrissian. Wait. *checks notes* Okay, that’s not it. *rifles through some papers* Is it that Lucasfilm should finally put an openly and obviously LGBT character on-screen and in a film soon? YES. Yes! Yes, but also, that’s not this post. Wait, so, what’s this post again?

*shuffles more papers*

AH HERE WE GO.

I propose that, after Episode IX, it’s time to separate out a Star Wars Cinematic Universe.

The SWCU.

You might be saying, “But wait, isn’t that already a thing?” And the answer is no, but also kinda yes?

The existing status of the Star Wars universe is this: pretty much everything is canon or canon-adjacent, meaning, it is existing across the spectrum of a singular Star Wars timeline. Everything is, for lack of a better term, connected along, and by, that timeline. The stories form a kind of narrative web, and every piece of the story is part of the tension of that web.

Here’s the problem, though: a web is a perfectly stable structure, as long as you don’t fuck with it. You can’t pull too hard or push too hard or create any dramatic movements, lest the web unthread and fray and fall to wisps of silk lost on the wind. And so it is somewhat with an increasingly large narrative web: you just can’t fuck with it too much, or you’ll tear the web. And that term I just used, increasingly large, is part of the problem: the web is getting bigger and bigger, because the Star Wars universe is growing across theoretically infinite borders. It’s films. It’s TV. It’s books, comics, games. Shit, it’s even a theme park, now. The Galaxy’s Edge theme expansion probably isn’t precisely canonical — but given that it’s getting a great deal of source material devoted to it, it’s at least canon-adjacent. And it seems to be “set” in a particular timeframe: the current-era sequel timeline, during the Resistance vs First Order struggle. It’s part of the material.

To go back to the question, isn’t the SWCU already a thing?

I answered the ‘no’ part.

But the ‘also yes’ part is important, too. The Star Wars Cinematic Universe does exist already, it’s just that nothing else really exists beside it. All are part of it. What I mean is, at present, the Star Wars universe is driven explicitly by the films. The films, understandably, set the course for the rest of it. In this great web, the films are less a part of the web and more the spider making it: I can speak from some experience writing the books and the comics that all the narrative work that goes into the Star Wars Universe is effectively happening in the wake of the films. They can’t get ahead of the movies. They can’t contradict the movies. They can’t deal with material that might one day be dealt with in film. They can only be additive to the cinematic experience, not really separate from it.

They do not stand alone.

They do not stand on their own.

To be clear, that’s sensible. The films are the driver of the universe and have been from the beginning. They were not adapted from pre-existing material. They were the pre-existing material.

Just the same, it presents problems. One problem is that ultimately, nearly all of the new material is essentially prequel material. It’s there to fill in gaps and details — essentially, an information-delivery-system nestled inside narrative. That’s not to say there’s no interesting stories to tell there, or that it’s impossible to craft a compelling narrative, but it does mean that very little is straight-up new, and not written to fit an existing pipeline. It means most of the stories are *record scratch* I BET YOU’RE WONDERING HOW I GOT HERE. That’s okay for a while! But as the universe continues to narratively expand, it ends up starting to feel like it’s just mining pre-existing material. Like any gold rush, you get that initial surge of cool new stuff, but it’s not long before you’re panning for meager flecks of shiny stuff and not great big nuggets of value. And to be clear, this is by no means a dig at my work or the work of any body telling stories inside Star Wars, it’s just a note that everything that happens in that space is happening in service to pre-existing material. Again: it’s all prequels.

Prequels represent a tricky conundrum because a story should have everything it needs to be understood in its first iteration. Right? From start to finish, the audience needs all the salient details to parse the plot and more importantly, the emotional throughline. So, to prequelize anything either means you’re going over redundant information or you’re leaving required material out of the prime narrative so that it can be told later. Neither are super-delicious choices. If you go over redundant information you run the risk of being bored, or actually changing the story (think of stepping on a narrative butterfly in the narrative past which then retroactively changes the future, like how Darth Vader’s redemption is very seriously complicated by Anakin’s choice to kill children and physically abuse the pregnant mother of his future Jedi-babbies). And if you’re leaving required information out, now you’re just doing the equivalent of offering paid DLC to complete a game someone paid full price to play in the belief it was, well, complete already. Which can be frustrating for the audience.

That’s not to say, again, there’s no room for this. Certainly there is! A character may not be fully-revealed on-screen, just by dint of a limited run time. A world may not be fully explored. Supplementary material can do this. But again, it’s important to see that phrase: supplementary material. Because that’s what it all ends up being. Very little standing on its own. Nearly all of it requiring service to a larger story property. (And it also falls prey to the “we need to explain every single detail, like gosh, where did Han Solo get those leather pants, and what is the epic origin story of the phrase, How Rude! —?)

One of the other problems is that a single timeline is essentially treated as a history — it’s why canon is a tough nut to crack, because canon treats stories less like stories and more like a history book. Everything becomes the fucking Silmarillion. Everything becomes binary — er, not the binary language of moisture vaporators, but rather, meaning things in the stories are either TRUE or they are FALSE, and realistically, in a connected canonical timeline, everything must be true, and nothing can disagree. Even though actual history books are full of disagreement (which is why historians are a thing). Because every single story informs every other single story — and the whole body of storytelling! — it means canon is a pair of goddamn zip-ties that gets tighter and tighter as more material is added, as you wriggle around.

Things don’t get looser and freer. They become more concretized, more calcified.

Think of it like that old Tron lightcycle video game — at first you have ultimate freedom but eventually, your lightcycle is building literal walls behind it that you will soon be trapped by. You do not have an infinite range of movement. One day: you gonna crash.

The more you establish about characters and worlds, the less you can continue to establish about characters and worlds. You’re filling in a finite number of boxes. It’s a crossword puzzle — all the things have to line up. Which, on the one hand, is an amazing achievement in narrative. But, on the other hand, is really, really difficult, and eventually maybe almost impossible.

As a sidenote on canon: it’s already kinda mostly broken. Stuff doesn’t line up nice and neat anyway, which is an understandable side-effect of a huge, connected universe. The end of Rogue One doesn’t actually line up neatly with A New Hope. The Solo movie tweaks the origin on stuff — like the dice — that is different elsewhere. Kylo’s scar moves. Stuff inside Battlefront II doesn’t agree with Aftermath.

Whatever. It’s cool. It’s part of the package.

Here is where I explain that my favorite metaphor to explain Star Wars:

Star Wars is the Millennium Falcon. It’s a hastily-cobbled together junk-boat that flies fast and is amazing and it’s full of heroes and we fucking love it for its flaws as much as not. This may sound like an insult, but I promise, it’s not: Star Wars is a glorious fucking mess. It probably shouldn’t work, but through the artfulness of the storytelling and the care of the designs and the passion brought to the stories, it doesn’t just work, it flies at lightspeed. Think, honestly, how much of Star Wars is junk in the story: from the Falcon to Mister Bones, from Jakku to the trash compactor, from Watto’s black market to the building of Threepio, it’s characters cobbling together stuff that shouldn’t work, but does. Just like Star Wars itsowndamnself.

“The garbage will do!”

And that’s a spirit I love about it. This brave, bold, gonzo mode of just smashing stuff together — it’s very much kid playing with dolls and action figures, writ large, and again, if you think I’m saying that as an insult, you seriously don’t know me. But what it does mean is that the brave, bold, gonzo stuff gets harder and harder to do in a deeply enmeshed, super-connected, singular-timeline universe.

So, to (ahem finally) get to the point of all this:

You gotta blow it all up.

It’s been sensible to keep it going through this sequel trilogy. You don’t want information competing with what’s out there. You don’t want Luke competing with Luke. (Though in writing the Aftermath trilogy I wish we’d been able to keep the Luke chapters! They were fun and wouldn’t have disagreed with anything, but I also get that they need to err on the side of caution.)

But, once Episode IX hits?

Blow it up.

Establish a SWCU, where the films and TV shows are explicitly their own thing. That, similar to the MCU: what happens in Marvel films do not necessarily impact what happens on the comic book pages, or in the novels, or in the games. They can! But they don’t have to. It’s loosier and dare I make a Captain Marvel pun, goosier.

(Captain Marvel was so flerkin’ good by the way. Also a good example of why it’s good to disentangle these stories — some of the decisions made there are explicitly different from what’s on comic book pages, and because it can play with conventions and expectations that way, it gets to tell its own story, not one married to something else. Yes, the way SW is doing it now is arguably “cleaner” — but “clean” is not an adjective I’d happily want to describe Star Wars. I like it messy!)

What does this allow you to do?

Well, for starters, you can —

(I know, I’m sorry)

Bring back Legends. While, yes, some Legends groups were, uhh, a little unpleasant to deal with at the release of Aftermath, I also recognize that there was an unholy host of stories that just kinda… end. So, do more. Finish that story. Or spin it out into more stuff.

It also lets you get back to Old Republic era stuff. Games, books, comics, whatever.

It also lets you go fucking wild. You can tell alt-universe Luke or Rey stories, or you can make up whole new eras that never have to be represented in film — they can be, but don’t have to be.

You wanna get real weird, play with some of the time-traveling features born in Rebels with some Spider-Verse thrown in. Different universes of Luke and Leia, different Rey and Kylo, whatever. So, splitting off into other universes can be literally reflected in the narrative. I mean, why the fuck not? A lot of Star Wars is narrative convenience. How long does lightspeed take? Some people want you to believe it has some kind of equation you can figure out — but trust me when I tell you, lightspeed takes as long as the story needs it to. Long enough to have the right conversation or discuss the right plan and then, zoop, you’re out.

(Well, actually, if you wanna get real real weird, you do the comic book universe reboot. You start alllllll over again. Which I suspect will happen, though I hope not for a couple decades. But it would give a change to adjust some of the prequel stuff which feels weird now, and maybe the Luke and Leia relationship, and you could sand down some of the rougher bits…)

(Anyway.)

We already have a little bit of this — the From a Certain Point-of-View anthology is, despite what some people think, non-canonical. Nothing there is “true” in the sense of the larger universe, and in fact, no one single story is true in relation to the other stories. They don’t connect. Each is a weird, wonderful little island. And who cares? Is the dianoga in that anthology the same as the dianoga in the movie? As much as I deeply appreciate the hyper-connected state of the SW universe, I also miss the unruly Wild West days where the stories were just stories — as isolated or as connected as they needed to be, understood to all be from their own certain point-of-view. Staying married to that approach runs the risk of the narrative becomes data-driven, where the spider web becomes chains more than flexible silk, where everything is forced to homage everything else. It’s not that it won’t work — it can, and will, because honestly, the SWU as-is exists as a property driven by people who are fans as much as they are capable creators. Just the same, I also look forward to them blowing it all up, and freeing the narrative to go wherever it wants, to whomever it must, however it can.

p.s. seriously though it’s time for LGBT representation on-screen, LFL

p.p.s hey did you know I write books, like this one…

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WANDERERS: A Novel, out July 2nd, 2019.

A decadent rock star. A deeply religious radio host. A disgraced scientist. And a teenage girl who may be the world’s last hope. An astonishing tapestry of humanity that Harlan Coben calls “a suspenseful, twisty, satisfying, surprising, thought-provoking epic.”

A sleepwalking phenomenon awakens terror and violence in America. The real danger may not be the epidemic, but the fear of it. With society collapsing—and an ultraviolent militia threatening to exterminate them—the fate of the sleepwalkers and the shepherds who guide them depends on unraveling the mystery behind the epidemic. The terrifying secret will either tear the nation apart—or bring the survivors together to remake a shattered world.

Preorder: Print | eBook