Daniel Aegan's Blog, page 5
September 13, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #54 – Happy Friday
It’s that magical day of the week, the one where everyone around you turns into walking calendars to remind you the week is over. “Happy Friday,” they say with their holographic smiles, their coffee- stained teeth showing.
I wish I could feel that kind of optimism. I wish I can go around announcing the day of week like it’s the cure for all your ailments. I wish I could have that kind of smug satisfaction that another work week is over and done.
Oh, and I work Saturdays too, unlike these managment drones spouting off their weekly mouth-flatulence. They never seem to remember just how unequal we are. I only walk among them. I’m not one of them.
Leading a double life sounds like a vacation.
I haven’t been burning the cliched candle at both ends. I’ve been burning just one, but I may have burned it to long. The problem with riding a manic high is that there’s always a wallowing low waiting for you once your jetpack runs out of fuel. The rode downward isn’t as fun as the one that got you so high. But you always forget about balancing until it’s too late.
And suddenly everything grows a bit dimmer. You want to be left alone. Recieving an unexpected gift makes you feel guilty. You feel responsible for the illness of others. You tell the person who wished you a happy Friday to go sell their shit to Hallmark instead of just laughing it off.
It’s lonely at the low, though you’re always surrounded. People try to help, but you only drag them down with you. And you feel bad for it. You don’t want help. You just want to ride it out till the next updraft comes to push you back into manic mode. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but there’s no way to yell how close or far it is.
Or maybe it’s plain and simple exhaustion after a long and trying week. Who knows?
Anyway, happy Friday.
-Daniel Aegan
9/13/19
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Want to read something I wrote? Knock yourself out.
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Coming soon:
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September 11, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #53 – WIP Wednesday: Shorts Edition
Okay… So I’m between books. When it’s all said and done, I finished three first drafts of novels this year.
“Finished” may be too strong a word. It’s more like two and two-thirds. Still, who’d complain about that? Anyway, it’s time to work on some shorts.
My next book, Lost Women of the Admiral Inn, is due to drop next month on the seventeenth, just in time for Halloween. I finished drafts of Unholy Mother of the Demonic Child and Blood Drive 2 over the summer too. I’ve been reviewing an unfinished book of mine called Operation: Maximum Chaos, and I’m fairly confident I’ll write the last part and get that draft done. For those of you keeping track at home, that’ll make a total of six books that are in various stages of pre-publishing.
But what about these shorts???I love short stories. It’s how I started on this literary journey of mine. As of late, I’ve written quite a few in the sci-fi/comedy milieu. That’s where I’m still heading with my most recent shorts. I have three in the hopper now: an alien abduction romance, a spoopy cartoon crossover, and a time travel clusterfuck.
What is it about short stories that I love so much? Maybe it’s the collaboration that has to take place between the writer and the reader. With a short, the reader’s imagination has to take over to fill in the details. It’s a subtle art. As a writer who values subtlety, this is key to the process.
It’s a challenge, too. There are those who think it’s easier since the stories are smaller in stature. Even newer writers may think so. But that’s not the case. You’re still telling a story, but you have to so it in a more compact way. Getting a full story to fit in ten thousand words or less can be as challenging as a hundred-thousand word novel.
I digress, though. I’m supposed to be talking about my WIP status.
Dirt Nap is my spoopy (I had to Google this word) story I’m writing for Halloween. It’s about Alana, a woman who’s lost the love of her life to death. She’s befriended by a cartoon character as she’s trying to summon her lover from the dead. He’s Hel Psychopomp, son of the Grim Reaper. He promises to take Alana through the Underworld to find the soul she seeks. As a bonus, there’s an episode of Hel’s show for your enjoyment.
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I’ve finished my alien abduction love story. I’ll start looking for a home for it soon. It’s about a couple of guys who meet aboard an alien spacecraft following their respective abductions. One remembers their trip into orbitx and the other was sent home with an unexpected surprise.
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The third is a time travel piece I haven’t fully figured out yet. Time travel is a tricky bitch, as any manipulator will tell you. I have the bones of a fun story. I just need to put them together.
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I should cap this off here. I’m assuming people care for some reason. If you’re looking forward to these stories, they’ll be with you soon. If you want some links to my last couple of shorts, I’ll post them at the end of this post. I might even slap together an anthology at some point in the near future. Look forward to it.
-Daniel Aegan
9/11/19
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As promised, here are my last couple of short stories:
Help! My Sex Robot is Trying to Kill Me!
August 28, 2019
Coming Soon: Lost Women of the Admiral Inn
It’s a special time of year. The kids are returning to school, autumn is just around the corner, pumpkin flavored everything is everywhere, and it’s time for Daniel Aegan to release his second book!
That’s right! On October Seventeenth, you’re cordially invited to meet the Lost Women of the Admiral Inn. Eight spirits of dead hookers haunt the Hamilton hotel, and they’ve gotten much more amorous as of late.
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But what fuels their lust and malevolence? What drives these sexy specters to solicit sex from the living? Why are these dead working girls still working?
The manager of the Admiral Inn doesn’t care why. He just wants them gone! He elicits help from a disgraced priest and a former reality TV ghost hunter. But can they get along through the one night they’re given to rid the hotel of its ghost problem? Can they work alongside two of the hotel’s employees to finish the job at hand without destroying The Admiral in the process?
The veil between our world and the one used by the dead is thinnest on Halloween night. That’s the one chance the makeshift team of exorcists have. The only way to take down the whore ghosts is one-by-one, and they only have until dawn to get it done. But each of the eight have their own reason for staying behind and present a unique challenge for the would-be exorcists.
Lost Women of the Admiral Inn is Daniel Aegan’s second published novel. It’s a work of spooky laughs, thrilling chills, and sensual delights. You won’t want to check out in the morning.
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Lost Women drops on 10/17 on Amazon in paperback and for Kindle. Get it just in time for Halloween!Trick or treat…
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Need to check out Aegan’s first book?
Okay!
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August 23, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #52 – When I Say You’re All Bots…
…I mean that you’ve been programmed to believe what your programmers want you to believe.
Please take this as a personal insult. I insist. If you did, you’re the problem. Now we know you were the problem, and we can both move on with our lives.
We’ve all been hearing about the Russian bots or the leftist bots or the whatever bots all over Twitter and Facebook. They’re back again with the 2020 election drama unfolding (already). They’re disguised as real people with fake opinions, and they’re dropping biased and oft times dubious news articles designed to piss you off. And they’re working.
This is nothing new, but we’re still falling for it. This was designed to get us all fighting one another before the 2016 election, and it worked extremely well. The Cold War never really ended, but we’re now losing it.
But I’m not here to talk about the obvious social media plants that are so obvious yet we still fall for their rhetoric every fucking time. I’m talking about the “human bots”, those who have fallen prey to the false articles and the biased “news” sources. It’s those people who are so ingrained with the idea that they’re right despite facts being against them. It’s them who will stand up and call you a communist when they’ve fallen for the Russian conspiracy against the American people.
And can you blame their hatred and paranoia? This ploy worked so well that they’ve sacrificed colleagues, friends, and family to keep it going. They’re so afraid to admit they might be wrong, it’s manifested into anger and outright rage. They were told they were under attack by the opposite side of the political spectrum, and it unwittingly turned them into the attackers. Yes, it seems America is now a hotbed of ironic discourse.
We’ve reached a point where our words do hurt. Social media had enabled treason, and they’re far from admitting it. If they wanted to do the right thing, they’d pull the plug and stop allowing these bots, human and otherwise, into our minds. But the monster is too big to stop now, and the dollar signs on the bottom line is too much to allow them to save something as pitiable as the America we once loved.
Also, I do see the hypocrisy of using Twitter and Facebook to spread this message of mine, so fuck you. If every other American can be a hypocrite, then so can I to point it out.
What can we do? It’ll fall on deaf ears, but all I can suggest is have your own mind and fuel your own opinions. We’re a lazy people, and it’s easier to have our opinions fed to us than to form our own. That’s the problem. We want to be told we’re being patriotic by our actions, fucked up as they may be. We want to believe our leaders will do right by us, because we’re too divided to get together to stop them at this point.
Remember: “Divided we fall.” Guess what… The last time we were this divide we went to war with ourselves. We, the regular Americans, hold none of the cards, but when has that ever mattered?
The right being guilty doesn’t mean the left is innocent and vice-versa. Don’t think this is a message condoning the Democrats and vilifying the Republicans. The humans of America are caught in the middle of corporate-owned politicians and billionaires at war with each other. They like is fighting, because it weakens us for them. There is an evil in America, and we’ve all been force fed its bile. Don’t ever forget that Hillary Clinton played a huge role in helping get President Trump elected.
Our president is a vile maniac. He’s making statements about buying Greenland while we’re closing in on another recession. But I’m being told that he’s just doing it to “own the libs” and expose the fake media, whatever the fuck that means. He pretty much outed himself as the antichrist the other day, and no one missed a beat. It’s a joke, and I don’t think I’m in on it.
By the way, all media is fake media now. They’re all owned by corporate billionaires, and they all have an agenda. Choose what you take away carefully. Learn to read into what’s not being said. That’s where you’ll find the truth.
But don’t take my word for any of this. Make your own damn opinion and stop letting the bots do it for you.
-Daniel Aegan
8/23/19
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I also write stuff that’s not political garbage. Here’s a book I wrote about vampires in America:
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August 12, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #51 – Here I Sit…
No, I’m not broken hearted. Just disappointed.
There’s more to life than meets the eye, but more is less. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but its only skin-deep. Third example not found, error #102.
We all entered this world pre-programmed. Did someone say you can do anything if you put your mind to it? You believed them? OK. Then shoot electricity out of your eyes. I’ll wait.
The world is changing, always changing. By “changing”, I mean “dying”. Can it heal itself? Sure. It’ll start as soon as humanity goes extinct.
So here I sit, doing nothing, worried about my online presence, the reach of my next book, and all the people who see me as an insect that grew too-large wings overnight and lorded over them in the morning sun.
I do think about those people from the start of all of this. I keep most of them in my mind with a fondness of who we all used to be. We represented something that can never be repeated. Some relationships are volatile, and some people outside want to see how quickly they can take that volatility and cause a chemical reaction. For this group of friends, it worked.
And that’s how it goes. People change. They move on from what they once were. We all do. The version one represents in your mind’s eye changes too. Sometimes it’s for the better, and sometimes it’s not. But why does the betterment of one mean the worsening of another? It doesn’t. So why does that fondness of which I spoke earlier sometimes taste bitter when I think of it?
Social Media gives us the ability be someone else. Don’t like who you are? Here’s a digital mask. Now you can treat people like you believe you’ve been treated through the magic of anonymity. It’s OK. They probably won’t figure out it’s you. Drag them back to the level they tried to escape, the one where you believed they left you.
And to be clear, I’ve been in both of these places.
Here I go, changing again. I can feel it. What kind of person will I be next? Who will I be? What will I be?
I can be whoever and whatever I want. Better watch out for my electro-vision powers!
That’s my manic mindset. Take it or leave it. Just don’t regret your decision.
-Daniel Aegan
8/12/19
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Because I’m still a self-promoting asshole, click this book link of mine:
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August 8, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #50 – Grace and Style in Times of Darkness
There are things I have built into me, things I can’t quite explain. I can be just as specific by calling these things “stuff”, but that somehow makes it sound gross. “There’s stuff inside me.”
Most of what I do can best be described as acts of uselessness. Sounds harsh, but I mean that in the nicest way possible. I’m not being a pessimist today. I’ve actually been high on myself. It’s weird hearing me admit to that, right?
Getting back to the subject at hand, whatever that is. I’m not sure what it was supposed to be. But I almost never know the destination. The not knowing makes the trip more fun.
I’m off topic again, which isn’t a bad thing. The topic was… Stuff inside me! I mean: Things built into my being, my soul, my very reason for existing. Grace, style, and a certain something most humans (or otherwise) lack.
It’s a spark, a piece of electricity, a spare electron with no path or conduit. It zigs and zags, zipping around my mind like a happy dragonfly in the summer sun. Every now and again, the spark hits something, setting off a chain reaction. Ideas are set in motion, my body follows those ideas, and I go with the proverbial flow.
We’re adults. We lack imagination. We’re supposed to, anyway. That’s what we’re built to believe when we’re kids. Once you grow up, you end up like the grumpy old people who shun fun because it’s too loud and your unblemished little face is offensive. But there are those of us who have that spark, that imaginative little bastard that spurns us forward. It makes us think, makes us create, makes us do stuff that’s stupid and wonderful at the same time
Take your own words out of context. Piss off your in-laws. Belch the fucking alphabet at a staff meeting. Fall for someone on the other side of the country. These are the ideas, people. Live life by them.
I don’t care who doesn’t like me. It doesn’t matter who I offend. Like the wise sage Rick Steiner once said: “You don’t like me? Bite me!”
Those, my dear friends and readers, are words by which you should live.
-Daniel Aegan
8/8/19
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Still not sick of me? Check out my book:
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August 1, 2019
Des and Tony
Dusk settled on the Northern California horizon. It was the first day of August. Mercury was no longer in retrograde, and it was Desdemona’s birthday. It had been a good day too. Her coworkers had brought cupcakes into work, all her writer pals had made sure to wish her a happy birthday, and she had a special dinner planned with family and friends in a couple of hours. There was only one thing that could have made it perfect.
Des opened the sliding door leading to the porch of her house. She took in a long breath. The summer had been hot, disgusting with the humidity, but a lone breeze was making it a bit cooler for her birthday. She was thankful for it.
Something streaked through the sky, and Des watched it. A shooting star? she thought. She watched as it changed trajectory. She didn’t have to be an astrology student to know shooting stars didn’t do that. It came closer, slowing as it approached. She saw it wasn’t what she thought it was. It was the shape of a man, clad in red and gold armor. It was the invincible Iron Man!
“Hello, Desdemona,” Iron Man said, hovering in the air just outside Des’s porch.
“Iron Man!” Des squealed. “What are you doing here?!”
“I stopped by to say happy birthday. Did you really think I’d forget about you?”
Iron Man descended onto the porch with the deftness of a butterfly landing on a sunflower. The suit of armor receded, the nanobots that made up Iron Man’s suit flowing like liquid into their casing locating on Tony Stark’s chest. “It might be better if I do it face to face.”
“Can I get you anything?” Des asked out of habit.
“On your birthday?” Tony asked with a laugh.
Des giggled and looked away. She could feel the blush coming on. She had always been a gracious hostess out of habit. She couldn’t help herself. Tony found it endearing, though. He smiled as a small rocket fell from the sky, slowed, and hovered between them. It opened up, and the steam form the dry ice floated out. There were two flutes of champagne waiting for them. Tony took one in each hand, giving the one in his left to Des. “Shall we toast to your birthday?”
“OK,” Des said with another titter. She raised her glass and waited for Tony to toast. He looked like he was going to make a long speech. He straightened his posture, took in a breath, held it for a moment, and let it back out, relaxing his body.
“Happy birthday.”
The glasses clanged together, and they sipped from the flutes. The bubbles tickled Des’s nose, and she giggled again. She hated that she couldn’t do much of anything but giggle, but it was Tony friggin’ Stark, and he was drinking champagne on her porch on her birthday. He had taken a break from Avenging just to see her on her special day!
“Thank you, Tony,” Des said. “I mean… I always wanted to tell you that I…”
“Hold that thought,” Tony said, putting his finger to his ear, listening to what was on the other end. He poured the rest of the champagne down his throat and put the glass in the hovering rocket. “I hate to chew and screw, but I need to jet. Hulk swallowed and infinity stone, and Thor has been chasing him all day. We need to get it the moment he passes it.”
“Oh. I understand. Avengers can’t take breaks, I guess. Doesn’t matter whose birthday it is.”
Tony sighed. He pushed the hovering champagne cart aside and kissed her, a quick peck. “Happy birthday, Des.” The nanobots returned, and Iron Man was reformed. “Don’t tell Pepper I was here.” With a quick burst from his boots, he was off into the sky, leaving a trail in the clouds as his disappeared.
Des stood and watched as it faded. It had been her best birthday ever.
The End
July 31, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #49 – Trolling vs Criticism
Can you spot the difference between someone trolling you and someone giving constructive and creative criticism?
It’s not hard. Open your eyes. Most writers need to develop a thick skin, especially those of us who are independently writing and self-publishing. Someone is going to rip you apart, tear you to shreds, or a third cliche. But are they doing it to hurt or help you?
A better question would be: Did they actually read what you wrote, or are they just calling you a shit writer for diarrhea and guffaws?
I’ve been trolled. It was a huge ordeal at first, but now I just push it away. Most of the time it’s people who don’t read anything, let alone my works of fiction. They’re low people, looking to drag anyone within reach lower. You know how they say misery loves company? So does mediocrity.
Then there’s the reviews. Unless someone drops a one-star with an obvious insult, they need to be taken in stride. But what are they saying? What can they tell you about where you might’ve gone wrong? How can this shitty review help you improve?
I seek out negative feedback. That’s probably a bad way to put it… There’s one thing I tell anyone who beta reads for me: Tear it a new asshole. Pick it apart. Does it suck? Tell me why. I want you to!
I’m no masochist… Well, maybe a little. My point is that you need this kind of feedback. There are groups and cliques on social media that do this with the presumption that only positive feedback will be given. They’re writers of a specific genre I won’t mention due to their cliques’ want to trample over all who disagree with any of their overhyped nonsense while they squeal over each other’s “book babies” with the glee of a stoned tween.
It was one from this genre that asked me to beta read. I said OK. I let them know I take it seriously, and the comments I make are out of tough love. They rescinded their request, stating they wouldn’t be able to handle it.
In other words, they wanted me to gush over the story instead of critiquing it. And this is the type of shit I’m always talking about. If you want to be a writer and put your stories out there, you need to have a thicker skin than this. Otherwise, you should just share with your gushing friends over some cheap wine and lines of coke.
I have beta read, however, for those who accept my shitty notes for what they are. I just hope they learn something that will help them improve.
This turned into a rant, so I need to take a step back. I hope my point came across though. Ignore the trolls. Accept the criticism. Above all else, learn to spot the difference.
-Daniel Aegan
7/31/19
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I’ll put my money where my mouth is. Check out my first published work and give it a fair and honest review:
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July 24, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #48 – WIP Wednesday: The “Take a Break” Edition
Yes. I’m blogging for a second time this week, and this one is about writing. No, I’m not talking to myself. Yes, I still enjoy really long titles.
Ever reach the point of story burnout? That’s when you pour everything you have into something you’re writing, and you just need to step the hell away from it. It’s like your kid. Sure, you love them to death, but sometimes daddy needs a break just to take a shit and read two chapters in the serenity of the bathroom.
I’m making this up as I go along, I swear.
This isn’t a writing advice piece disguised as work in progress update. It just so happens to be one in the same this time. I wouldn’t trick you like that, would I? OK. I might.
I only bring it up this way because I reopened The New Council: Blood Drive 2 after taking a brief hiatus from it to beta-read a friend’s book, write two short stories, and write an entire 90k word novel. Well… Maybe the hiatus wasn’t as brief as I had intended.
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Which brings me to the point, one of them anyway. Sometimes you need to step away. Take a breather. Give your characters a break from you. I took my break from New Council after 33k words. I stepped back into it Monday, and I just passed 40k last night. I came up with some new ideas and plot points, and the book will be a force with which to be reckoned because of it.
I think I hit both points there. You have your New Council update. As more people read Blood Drive, the readers ask for more. It really did beg for a sequel or *gasp* a series.
But I’m getting away ahead of myself.
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I guess that’s a good a place as any to wrap this up. Your imagination is a muscle, and it gets tired sometimes, especially if you focus on one thing too long. I should know since mine seems to be more overactive than most.
Keep those words pumping, fellow writers. Just know when to give it a rest.
-Daniel Aegan
7/24/19
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Since I mentioned Blood Drive a dozen or so times, why not check it out?
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July 22, 2019
Daniel’s Journal #47 – Insert Title Here
Did I do that “insert title” gag already? Oh well…
I feel like I haven’t posted many updates lately. I checked. There was just one in the last month. I remember promising myself to do this at least twice a week, but I fell behind on it. No Monday Motivation. No WIP Wednesday. No anything.
Well, I’m posting today, danmit!
A lot has happened in recent weeks. Got back into the tarot. Been writing like crazy. Got two new tattoos. The usual stuff. But I haven’t been doing this public journal thing.
My mind falls into odd patterns sometimes. I’m on something like flies on doggie diarrhea. But something else always ends up sacrificed. It’s a joke of mine with those who know me well that I can only focus on one issue at a time, but that focus is laser-like.
So I’ve been writing. I’ve been doodling. I’ve been reading. I’ve used this summer this far to focus on my mind, but the physical world took a back seat. At almost forty (shut the fuck up), I’m still trying hard to maintain balance of self and mind-self. It took some time, but my mind is in a good place. I’ve accepted things I couldn’t before, and I’m comfortable with my lot in life. I couldn’t have said that a couple of months ago.
Things are ever changing. My next post could be me cursing the gods for not destroying the planet when they had the chance. I might be comparing my life to a puddle of blood and bile. I might be ready to punch a hole right through the whole damn universe.
But hopefully I’ll keep this optimism.
Take the negative. Never disregard it. Pour it on the page and make the ink suffer instead of yourself. Take the darkness and mold it into something you can love.
I took a pile of dark aura and mashed it into a ninety-thousand word story of woe and accomplishment on which I’m proud to put my name. Everyone needs a hobby.
Love may be fleeting, but we all last forever in the halls our souls walk when our worlds end. Learn to love the shadow who walks beside you. You’ll never be alone.
-Daniel Aegan
7/22/19
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This is the part where I advertise my book. Check it out for some excitement and laughs.
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