Roberto Scarlato's Blog, page 7

Deadly Eyes

It may surprise you, but I'm not the only one who used the phrase "dead eyes" in their titles. Here's one author who contacted me recently who has a pretty interesting book with a similar title. So without further ado, take it away Michael.





I was a professor of writing for four years at the University of the Virgin Islands, St. Croix campus. I fell in love with the Caribbean. It truly is American paradise. I have always loved a good mystery, especially one with never-ending twists, turns, and surprises. Local color is important to me, so I saw that placing a mystery on the romantic island of St. Croix was a win-win situation for me, since I am like a reader when I write, never quite knowing what will happen next.I thoroughly enjoyed every second of writing DEADLY EYES. The varying elements all seemed to fit together so perfectly. Reggae, calypso, swaying palms and sandy beaches provide such a terrifying contrast to the fact that a romantically linked couple is so brazenly stalked in such an idyllic setting, which sets the perfect tone for what I wanted to achieve in this mystery. Romance, beauty, and mystery are all intermingled in DEADLY EYES.Since I know the island of St. Croix so well, having lived there, the setting posed no real writing problems at all for me. In fact, the setting actually enhanced everything I was attempting to achieve. The local color is authentic, but the plot is my own creation, the bits and pieces falling into place as I dug deeper into the story.Creating the authentic local color came easily for since I had spent four wonderful years as a college professor on the beautiful island of St. Croix. I love the island! I miss being there. The only research I really needed was to make full use of my own memory bank, which is a storehouse of exciting moments personally experienced by this author. St. Croix is a part of me and always will be.In addition to being excited as I wrote about an island paradise I truly love, I found myself really liking the two main characters of DEADLY EYES. Cuff is a laid-back sort of guy, a real looker, a guy who has come to live on the island to get away from some bad memories on the mainland. He and his girlfriend, Rosie, are both very strong individuals, and the repartee between them was quite enjoyable for me, the reader-writer, to observe. She is like Maureen O’Hara, the one woman who could actually stand up to John Wayne on the big screen. The two actors were like magic on the screen together, and that is how I view the relationship Cuff has with Rosie. They are both caught up in something scary that they do not understand, but neither will slow down one iota in their quest for justice. I actually found myself falling in love with the character Rosie, Cuff’s girl. She is sexy, independent, and flippant, and I thoroughly enjoyed creating the repartee between her and her boyfriend, Cuff. Both characters are people I would love to know. I was sad to have them leave my computer and move to their new home on Amazon Kindle. I miss interacting with them on a daily basis. I never quite knew what they would say or do, and I loved seeing them cope with their circumstances and evolve as people.Yes, the setting, the local color, the mystery, and the characters all combined to give me a good read as I wrote the book. In fact, being the reader that I am as I write, I was sorry to see the book come to an end.

Click here to buy Deadly Eyes.

Interview Re-caps

Since this blog has been running for 5 years, I thought I'd give everbody a look back on all the interviews I had the privelage of doing. Some are short and quick, others are long and in depth. Originally, when I first created this blog, it was going to be nothing but a journal to log my woes as I tackled writing on a daily basis.

But that all changed. Soon I was going to author events and actively seeking out writers for interviews so that you, the reader, could learn more about the craft of writing, how everyone does it differently.

I hope some of these interviews inspired you.

They sure inspired me.

And a special thanks to all the authors who agreed to participate.



2009


The Rustle of Wings:  I happened by this first author event by chance. This was the one that started it all. Aprilynne Pike.A Bunch of Maloney: Went into the city for this one. Thankfully, traffic was light and I even had a chance to snap a few pics. Michael Malone.A Crowded Connelly Packed with Pelacanos: This was the first author event/interview where the seats were packed. Some people had to stand against the bookshelves. Afterward, a line formed for people to get their books signed. Two very different writers with two very different methods. Michael Connelly and George Pelacanos.A Double Dose of Roberts: In where I bump into an author I've already met at Printer's Row in Chicago. Robert Goldsborough.Locke and Key: Another trip to the city, this time I invited my girlfriend. Such a nice author, she even invited us to drinks afterward but we were on a tight schedule. Attica Locke.A Kitchen Caper: After driving into the city and walking into the library that Goodreads claims is a book event, I find out that it was incorrect on the website and that, in fact, it is actually several blocks away. I jogged to the actual event and was able to catch half of it. Thankfully made it for the Q and A section. Monica Ali.Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights: I had known this author on Podiobooks and decided to reach out and invite him onto the blog. Matthew Wayne Selznick.Clawing Your Way To The Top: Not only is Stacey very prolific, and also a podiobooks contributer, but he also hosts an author interview show in Raleigh, North Carolina. Stacey Cochran.Faking It: Found this book on Lulu.com, bought it, read it, loved it. Emailed the author and this interview happened. She now has four books available on Amazon. Elisa Lorello.
2010
Tuesday Tells it Slant: This author describes how she outlines in reverse. Quite interesting. Holly Christine.Publish This Book: This was my second phone interview. He's a pretty funny guy. His book has many laugh-out-loud moments. Every writer needs this book on there shelf. He's also a writer for The Chicago Red Eye newspaper. Stephen Markley.
2011

These are what I call Mini-Interviews. They are basically five questions and a sample of the author's latest Kindle title. Thanks to all who participated:Final JusticeThese Hellish HappeningsThe OutsiderFormed in ClayA Heart in Sun and ShadowThe Russian RenaissanceDrachar's DemonsThe Bayman's BrideThe CameoTrilogyCrystal TombBlack Diamond DeathExpert AssistanceLawyers, Guns and MoneyCatier's RingSome River's End on the Day of The DeadSlade's DestinyFlamingo's
2012
Solitary Tales: I first met this prolific author in a Barnes and Noble in Naperville. He gave me some advice when I told him I had problems with writer's block. He said, "They're just words." We had a good chat and I bought two of his books. 40, in paperback. Solitary Tales, on Kindle. Thought it was time to interview him after I finished reading Solitary Tales. Thankfully, he agreed. Travis Thrasher.Clifford Makes a Comeback: I had always heard of this author and was fascinated by his story. While researching one day I found out that he was publishing all of his works to kindle. It was a shot in the dark, but I figured I'd email him and ask if he would like to be interviewed. We traded emails back and forth and eventually this interview happened. Also bought 6 of his books. Clifford Irving. 
So it looks like, all told, I've interview 34 separate writers. They range from Bestsellers to First-timers and they were all a blast to interview on this site.
If there is ever anyone you would like me to interview on this blog, just email me at:
Robertoscarlato@gmail.com

Ye Olde Idea Shoppe

Well, it's the first month of 2013 and since I want to stay productive, I decided to announce when I release a new title to kindle. Ye Olde Idea Shoppe just launched today.

It's been a pet project of mine for a couple of months now. I like many genres of fiction but I hardly paid tribute to Fantasy. So I decided to write something that I could read to our daughter.

I invite you to tell your friends and buy a copy of it for your kindle on Amazon.com.

Don't have a kindle? No worries. You can download the kindle app for free on your iPad, smartphone, Blackberry, etc. 

This short story is only 99 cents. Please, if you can, leave a review for the book on Amazon as well. Thanks, readers.


Here is the link to buy: http://www.amazon.com/Ye-Olde-Idea-Shoppe-ebook/dp/B00B336JHQ/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1358630984&sr=1-6&keywords=roberto+scarlato

The New Year Novel-Writing Machine

2013
We made it.

44 followers and 260 posts later.

Where do we go from here?

I'll tell ya.

Up, baby. Up!

Lately I've been putting writing by the wayside and its starting to get to me. Whenever I don't write, I feel like pieces of me are just falling off. No more, I say! I plan to write daily, if I can. 500 words a day works for me. When I reach a milestone like 10,000 words, I figure I can Vlog about it so I'm at least held accountable.

It's been 7 months since I've published anything to kindle.

Here's what I have in the works:


A stand alone fantasy short story, hoping to make its debut sometime this month. It will be priced at 99 cents.A gritty, terror-filled novella that brings the term "survival" to an all time high. Currently stands at 14,000 words. That will be released sometime in February.The Scarlato Laugh - a collection of essays re-counting true stories about my life. I've shared a few of them on this blog: Scrooge Sits One Out, Ghostbusted. This title is slated for late March.The Third Novel - This project has plagued me to no end. Originally I had planed to release this one right after releasing my first novel. The only problem is I never finished writing it. It's still stuck at 40 pages. It's a mix of Crime Drama/Noir Mystery. Hoping to release this one by the end of 2013.Last project currently slated is for 2014. That will be Dead Eyes 2. At this moment, I haven't written any of it. But I will be working on it while I'm in between projects.
As for audio book fans out there, I plan on releasing the podiobook version of Wearing Donnie Torr. So far I have two chapters recorded. Mr. Dead Eyes is still available for FREE download on iTunes.
So that's all for now and remember, if you don't hear something from me soon, don't fret, I'm just writing.

[Currently reading on the Kindle: Just a Geek by Wil Wheaton.]

Scrooge Sits One Out

SCROOGE SITS ONE OUT



(The following essay is based on a true story)

I had no spine when it came to public speaking. Or reading publicly  for that matter. I wasn’t involved in any clicks or after-school programs. So I was surprised I even had the courage to raise my hand in this case, but what I wanted more than anything at that precise moment was to step out into another character.           And that character was Ebenezer Scrooge.       It was in the middle of Music class and I was in sixth grade. Our teacher had just wrapped up her speech about how the school wanted to put on a play. The play would be A Christmas Carol, one of my favorites stories.          Auditions were being held after school and open to anyone.          I considered this while the lesson passed without me.          My brother and I had always goofed around. We always loved to act out. Sometimes we put on our own shows even when we didn't have a camera. We did impressions, invited guests, and even had returning characters. At the time I was being bullied practically every day of school. In my mind, I thought this play would be able to, dimwitted thought,  square me with the pack. I was under the assumption that I would do so well in the play that that would give me a free pass. Over the course of one period, I had psyched myself up so much that I was convinced this just might happen. I even went as far as envisioning myself in the starring role.          Wouldn’t that be something, I thought to myself, to be Scrooge himself. Oh, everyone would be so envious.          My mind was made up.       By the time school had ended I already knew my mom was on her way to pick me up. I waited impatiently outside the front entrance, bouncing on my heels. I couldn't wait to tell her and I had to hurry up quick if I was gonna make it back in time for the auditions.          Remember, this was the time before cell phones. So I had to pass the news on the quick and bolt back inside.          When she finally pulled up, I relayed the good news as fast as I could as I ditched my backpack in the backseat. At a fast clip I rambled on and asked if she could pick me up later or wait for me.          I saw her face.          She smiled.          She was so proud of me.          I was a shy little one.          So for me to do anything outside of keeping my head down and reading books alone was a big step.          “Go ahead,” she beamed. “I’ll wait.”          With that she cranked the car into park, I closed the door and ran the steps two at a time.          I ran like a dog down the hallway, tongue practically flapping in the wind as I dove down steps and ignored hand rails. When I finally reached the music class door, I slowed to a casual pace, even though my heart was pounding.          The regulars were in there. And by regulars I mean people who bullied me along with a handful of tried and true friends.          We were each given three yellow sheets with sample lines on them. My eyes widened as I looked at the one sample paragraph in the middle of the page; it was Scrooge. The lines were clear. This was the scene in which he was disparaging Christmas when his nephew comes to visit him. It’s one I’ve seen in many reincarnations…           To date, when you search up A Christmas Carol on the Internet Movie Database, IMDB for short, you’ll find  48 results. It starts with a silent short film in 1908 to the CGI-driven Jim Carrey version in 2009.          But the one that meant most to me would be the classic 1938 version with Gene Lockhart playing Scrooge. He perfected the role the second you saw him on screen. He was bold, rude, hunched over and stingy with his gold pieces. He was the grand grump of Christmas and I based my impression on his interpretation.          When I was finally called, my knees were buckling. The teacher had given us ample time to rehearse the words. We didn’t have to have them memorized but, as a die hard perfectionist she said, “It wouldn’t hurt.”          I dove right in, crouching slightly, holding my right side while dragging my left foot a little as I did a mini tirade, damning Christmas with every step. I had to look at the paper frequently but I refused to break character. I was possessed. Utterly convinced that I had a bone to gnaw on, I stormed on with a hearty, “Good Afternoon!” crumpled my paper and threw it hard on the floor.          For the longest time our music teacher didn’t say anything. She just sat there behind the piano with her legs crossed and her thumbnail in her mouth. A look of concentration adorned her face.          She put her hand down into her lap then spoke.          “That’s fine, Roberto. Have a seat. Next.”       As I uncurled myself and picked up my paper I remember shuffling back to my seat. I was disappointed, just confused. I wish she would give me some kind of clue.          At the end of it, she thanked us for coming and told us that the call sheet would be posted outside one week later.          I left, getting into my mom’s car, practically buzzing in my seat.          One week later, I walked past the posted sheet and saw with my own eyes.          ROBERTO SCARLATO/ Ebenezer Scrooge.
***
For that entire day nobody could shut me up in our house. I was bouncing off the walls, running circles around each room with a rolled up copy of the script in my hands screaming, “I got it! I got it!”          This was definitely a time of celebration.          My parents were so proud.          My brother patted me on the back.          My sister stuck her tongue out at me.          As I simmered down and ate dinner, I kept thumbing through the stapled script between forkfuls of homemade pasta.          The script incorporated everything you already knew about the Dickens tale, with a few extras. It was modernized a bit for lack of props and sets.           The stage was in the gym. You could sprint eight long strides either way. It also helped that it was raised five feet off the gym floor so every seat was the best seat in the house. As far as the set went, teachers and students were already painting on movable walls which could be flipped at a moment’s notice.          In the script, it was still set in the Victorian era but the biggest change was that the ghost of Christmas past was a rapper in baggy pants and shades. This was a bit peculiar though, in my eyes. If Jacob Marely, Bob Crachet and the other two ghosts would remain the same then why transform an ancient ghost guide of the past into the 2pac shakur of today?          In any case, I was just happy to read the script.           After I read it, I reread it, going back over the lines several times.          Highlighting was helpful.          I gradually came to understand a system for memorizing lines. I would memorize the last five words of another actors lines. It gave me the perfect diving board and cue for me. There was no way I could memorize all fifty pages. No matter how much I loved the story, I was doomed from the beginning. Week by precious week I had lured myself into a false sense of security.          As time marched on, I kept catching different versions of the Christmas Carol. There was one done by the Muppets and one done by Mickey and the other Disney characters. (Goofy played a bumbling ghost Marley, tripping over his chains.) There seemed to be no end.           Then I saw one of my favorites versions, the one that starred Bill Murray.          This one fascinated me.          The movie didn’t take itself seriously, turning the famous tale on its ear with witty banter, some crude jokes, a little bit of sexy and mind-blowing special effects for a film done in the eighties. In my opinion, the effects still hold up today.          Oh, if I could’ve played it like Murray.        His character was very relatable. Started off as a nice guy then on his way up to a promotion he became corrupted and forgot about everybody else.          Speaking of forgetfulness, I was on a path to a steady destruction of my own.          Before I know it, it was the night of the show. I remember sitting on my parents bed, my father reading the lines to me. Yes, I was still memorizing lines the night of the show. The play would begin at 8pm and my parents were ready to drop me off in an hour and a half. It was remarkable how disillusioned I had become. Sure, I’d practice lines. But it was always in short spurts. I’d get bored, lose interest. Yet, I convinced myself that waiting down to the wire would help my motivation.          Then it hit me.          I stopped quoting lines and Papa looked up from the pages.          “Roberto, what’s wrong?”          What was wrong was that my tiny head had just digested the facts; I only had half of this script memorized. There would be no way in the world to cover that. Even if I were to go off script and somehow fake my way through it, I knew I would ramble or stutter until they called the play off out of heated exasperation.          “I can’t do this,” I said.          “What? Yes you can. Look how much you’ve memorized already.”          “No, I can’t. I JUST CAN’T!” I shouted.          I bolted from the bed and ducked into the bathroom, slamming the door and crying hysterically. I had no watch on me, but I knew the minutes would be ticking away very slowly.          Honestly, it was longest hour of my young life.          My father tried to be encouraging. He lightly tapped on the door.          “What’s your problem? You love this story. You have done so much. You can do this. Open the door, will ya?”          “No!” I shouted, “I don’t believe you.”          I heard my mother come to the door.          “What’s going on?”          “Berto locked himself in the bathroom. He doesn’t want to do this.”          “But he was so happy about it.”          “I know, I know. He changed his mind.”          As I listened, curled up into a little ball on the cold tile floor, I realized how silly this was. I was invested in this, I knew I could do it. But, in the end, stage fright had gotten the best of me.          Of course, my parents tried and failed to tell me to come out of the bathroom. I wasn’t budging. According to our director, if I had failed to show up then my understudy, Jason, would take my place as Scrooge. I was alright with that.           I had accepted that this was no longer my thing.          Two hours later, I opened the door, left the bathroom and went to my room. Nobody stopped me. I just got ready for bed for school the next morning.          The next day I had assumed that everyone would be mad at me for bailing out from the production. I hadn’t even called anybody to let them know, and I don’t think my parents had either.          Granted, there was some bullying about the ordeal. Jason in particular was pissed at me. The show had gone just fine but he didn’t expect to pick up my slack like that.          Every year after that incident, it would gnaw at my stomach.          It just couldn’t be.          Would I be an invert, forced to live my life with my head down? Never stepping out of my comfort zone? Never trying anything risky? Never having any fun?          Well, I didn’t want to be like that.          The idea tore me apart.          Gradually I decided that if the opportunity ever arose, I’d step in and conquer this fear. This goal followed me to high school where, based on a whim, I decided to audition for a school play called Up The Down Staircase. The audition wasn’t that hard. I just brought the page of a book, I forget which, and started reading.          I landed a small part, four lines interspersed within the page.         My character, Eric, was originally penned for a black student but they adapted it to an Italian stereotype.          I felt lucky, these lines were short, to the point, and would get a couple laughs. My desk was even positioned four desks in the back of the class, where I’m often most comfortable.          Funny enough, I found an odd quirk about me when it came to memorizing lines. During a production I couldn’t read any books. It seemed that every time I picked up a book and start reading, the lines for the play would go running out of my head like soldiers on horseback.          We had three show dates and each one was funnier than the last. After the first show I really picked up my stride. What’s remarkable is that I started improving while we were on stage. So did everyone else but that was usually a thing I never did. I’d toss papers, be rambunctious, pretend to fall asleep in class, even waiting to the last minute to hurriedly scribble answers on a test as the teacher jerked it out of my hand.          It was such a unique experience.          On the last show I took my bow with all the others and felt complete.          A woman came up to me, congratulating me on my character. She said I reminded her of Robert Downey Jr.          I was thinner then and had longer hair.          But it was such a nice thing to say and I smiled at her.          Look at that, I already had a fan.          Not only had I stomped this fear of stage fright, but I’d repeatedly get a hunger to do another play. I was constantly asking my teacher if a new play was in the works. I had a firm rule though. I would never do a musical. I can’t sing and I know that so, in fact, I’m being considerate of an audience full of music lovers.          The next play I was in was And Then There Were None, a take on the popular Agatha Christie novel. It was this play where I played old General Mackenzie and met my future wife who was playing Judge Wargrave.          As a major character I had significantly more lines than I was accustomed to memorizing. But we had so much fun. Behind the scenes, I’d always try to make the girl who would play Judge Wargrave laugh. It wasn’t too difficult. Even in the middle of a show I made her snicker off stage. For the costume I had a knife in my back and would gently get her attention. Psst! I’d say. Then, when her eyes were solely on me, I’d hobble around and over-dramatically crumble to the ground, a mock look of horror on my face while gripping the knife in my side.          There was even a moment where we had run out of white hairspray so, on the fly, we loaded my hair up with baby powder to make me look older.       “Are you sure this will work?” I asked.          “Yeah,” my future wife said, “You look old and crusty already.”          Memories. I love them. This was especially fun for me because she would volunteer to do my makeup, drawing wrinkles and laugh lines, coloring my faint mustache.          The baby powder, on the other hand, was a bit of a bust.          In one scene, where I’m meant to fall on my side out of a chair, specifically when they discovered I had been killed out on the patio, when I fell all the powder erupted out of my hair, making a tuft cloud of white mist that only added to the strained hilarity.          Later I would star in a production of Cindy Ella’s Going To The Ball, Baby. I think you know what that one’s based one.          I would play Buddy, a hapless dreamer who wants the hand of Cindy Ella. A good guy, pretty much.          My wife played a character called God Mama. She had a big puffy red dress. To me, she looked like a rose.           From the reading to the show date itself, I’d always sneak a peek at her, admiring her from a distance. Once I even kissed her hand, telling her how lovely she was. She never reacted to it. She politely said thank you. Little did I know she was freaking out on the inside. She had feelings for me too and I didn’t even know it.          We’ve watched the tapes so many times, laughing at ourselves constantly. In this play I had twice the lines I had in the murder mystery. And I had a chance to display some physical comedy. In one scene I had to escape from one of the god fairies who was dancing with me. I pointed off stage to distract her and scrambled under the table with the punch bowl. Later, I was hoisted out of there by her. She was two heads shorter than me, so I thought it’d be funny if I were up on my toes, giving her the appearance of otherworldly strength. The audience laughed so hard.          Each show was greater than the next.          Then the day came when our school had decided to put on the titan of all plays.          This was Dracula.          I showed up, audtioned for both Van Helsing and Dracula. I played meticulous and hurried for Van Helsing and calm but powerful for Dracula. By the end of the day, as everyone was packing up, I approached the teacher who would be directing. We were friends.          “Excuse me, Mr. Howl?”          “Yeah, what’s up, Stoney?”
           (Everybody called me Stoney on the count of me always looking so stoned when really I was suffering from sleep deprivation. Got it? okay.)          “Yeah, um, well, I just wanted to say that I always wanted to play Dracula and…well…I hope I get it.”          He gave me a knowing glance.          “Stoney, I’ll let you know. There are other people who want to be Dracula.”          “I know. I’m just excited.”          “I’ll let you know, Stoney.”          Within a week, I had the part.          This play was my most memorable. I had gone from ditching a role, to playing an extra, to a supporting character, and now to the main lead. I was ecstatic, but also very surprised. As I roamed the halls, walking to get to my ride out to the front entrance, I thought about the scared young boy.          If I passed him in the hall, what would he say to me?          You can't do it. It’s too big for you. You’ll screw up. I just know it. Please, don’t do this. You’ll die onstage.          At least, that’s what I would imagine he would say.          But I passed that hallway long ago.          I was ready now.          Nothing fazed me.          Even when I bought the costume, I wasn’t afraid.          Even when I memorized large chunks of lines, I wasn’t afraid.          Even when my parents started getting nervous FOR me, I wasn’t afraid.          Again, my future wife did my makeup. This time she darkened my mustache and made my widow’s peak more pronounced. I slicked back my hair, pulled my cape onto my shoulders and looked in the mirror. I hardly recognized myself. I had pale cream on my face, slight blue veins around my eyes. I had practiced the accent, the stance, the walk, everything. I was made for this role.          Three shows, three very different performances.          The second show almost gave me a panic attack.          That was the show when the girl who was playing Van Helsing…suddenly forgot her lines.          She hadn’t realized it at first. No one ever does.          I remember, from reading over her lines, her speech was very lengthy, a good page at least.          She only said one sentence.          Something like, “Honestly, Count Dracula, I have serious doubts that you are unfamiliar with Vlad The Impaler.”          Right there you get a sense that she’s going to educate me, going into a long history of the war, my ancestors then outright accusing me of being the same man.          But she didn’t.          She just paused, waiting; it looked like, for me to start speaking.          A hush fell over the crowd.          This was the turning point, a big reveal.          The seconds ticked by, my skin grew hot.          A boulder fell into my stomach.          I continued standing upright, giving her a knowing smile but completely losing my mind on the inside.          Inside I was bouncing around, scratching at the walls like Reinfield. I was running away, hurtling myself into a car, closing the door on my cape and speeding away from this moment.          I had left my body.          On the way through this imagined high speed departure, I saw the young me on the road, the stage fright me screaming, “Y’see! Y’see! I told you but YOU WOULDN’T LISTEN!”          I blinked.          I was still in the theatre but barely hanging on.          Trapped in the moment, I started to sweat.          I gently brought out my hand and slid it into my suit in a napoleon fashion. I was really pinching myself to see if I was still here.          A full minute passed.          Suddenly, she stumbled back into her lines.          “Well…um…I don’t have to tell you that I did a little digging and what I’ve found is most interesting…”          I followed her voice, waited for my cue, said my line, “Now, I shall take my leave,” and exited the stage.           Back stage I was drenched and hyperventilating, bending my knees to the ground and holding my head in my hands. “I can’t believe she did that,” I kept repeating, trying to take control of my rapid heart beat.          In the end, the show ran smoothly, I was killed with a stake through my heart and the show was over.          My wife continued doing the plays. One of them being a very funny role in Harvey.          I would come to the shows and clap along with all the other people. I had tasted the life of the theatre, bathed in it, sweat through it and even had some close calls.          True I had trumped the fear but, somewhere, inside the recesses of my mind, I still yearn to play scrooge. Because the cranky old man will not shut up about it.

Eerie

(Our house, in the middle of our street)Blake Crouch is a much regarded name in the self-publishing game. He's tied closely to self-pub enthusiast J.A. Konrath. I've read many of Konrath's books (Disturb, The List, Origin and Whiskey Sour). But one of the first ebooks I read was a slim little number called Serial. It was only 8,000 words.

Seeing as how these guys go hand-in-hand and their writing styles are quite similar  I felt it was time to give Blake a try. So I decided on Eerie  a short novel of suspense and horror. This thriller boasted that it was in the same vein as The Shinning or The Sixth Sense. With a blurb like that, I had to see if it was all just hype or, in fact, the real deal.

Well, I've read the whole thing.

And I loved it.

What a change of pace.

The story, for the first few chapters, revolves around Grant Moreton, a Seattle detective, who is working a missing persons case. The trail leads him to a house which currently holds a person from his past. The two characters are confined to the house, unable to escape. Every time they try, they are blasted with extreme headaches and debilitating sickness, bordering on the brink of death. Not only are they trapped, but some fiendish thing is holding them there, a monster under the bed, so to speak.

This ebook had me clicking NEXT PAGE like there was no tomorrow.

It's no wonder that this book was so well balanced. It was written by two people. Blake and Jordan are brothers who decided to collaborate on this original idea. We get a bit of that insight with a question and answer segment at the end of the book. Blake and Jordan tell us that they wrote this book over a program called Google Docs, switching every time the other would take over. Technology has come a long way and it looks like more and more collaborations are being used in Google Docs.

This is Jordan's first novel but as for Blake Crouch, he holds 35 Kindle titles to his name.

Many of his ideas have been optioned for films.

Pretty prolific if you ask me.

Eerie is only $3.99 on Kindle.

Now that I'm more well acquainted with his work, I may give his novel Famous a try.

11/22/63

(Take me away, I don't mind, just promise
 me we'll be back in time.)My mind is officially blown. Yes, its true, my fandom for Stephen King has waned in the past, been on the ropes even, but now it has risen stronger from the once supposed dead ashes. This book has now become one of my top four favorite King books. The others being Insomnia, Desperation and From a Buick 8 .

So what is it about this book that redeemed my love for King?

I would argue that it is a combination of things. It's believable, deep and suspenseful. A good recipe of a story that leaves you wanting more but satisfied by its drive and momentum.

Quite a while back, in a previous blog post, my wife and I were discussing the idea of time travel; what works and what doesn't. Can there be time viewing? Can you change the past? Are you able to bring something back? Will this cause a rip in the fabric and create a time paradox? These are the routine things we grapple with on every time travel tale.

But what if something new were added to the mix? You get something more unpredictable.

From what I understand, more time travel stories are throwing out the old rules and starting fresh. This is a complete rewrite to what we've already puzzled over. A step in a new direction and I welcome that.

Though I haven't seen films like Looper or Primer, I am told that they turn the genre on its head, offering new and exciting possibilities.

Change the rules: simple as that.

In King's book, an English teacher(who else?) is coming to grips from a fresh split from his wife who is an alcoholic. As he is coping he confides in his friend, Al Templeton, who owns the local diner not too far away. Al is increasingly looking older as the days pass. Al finally lets the cat out of the bag. He has found a wormhole that leads to the year 1958. The usual, believable  skepticism ensues until our hero, Jake Epping, finally decides to take the plunge.

It's obvious that king has done a lot of research for this book. Everything from the racial divide to how much a man could live on in those days is covered. It feels like you are transported to that era. Reading IS time travel, any way you slice it.

Al eventually convinces Jake to change the course of history by saying he should go back and stop the assassination of JFK. A noble cause but not without its strife's.

Turns out that the past itself is its own character in this novel. It is a stubborn, angry, bullying think which does not want to be changed. Sometimes it is referred to as a "machine with jagged teeth." Frequently it throws unfortunate coincidences in front of our hero. A tree blocking the road, a debilitating sickness, a car that threw a rod or a traffic accident, just to name a few. It's reach knows no bounds. This is a really compelling element to consequential time travel.

The characters are likable, the plot is fluid and its considerably shorter than Under The Dome. King held my attention to the very end. The novel is one I intend to re-read whenever I wish to travel back through time and catch up with Jake. And what's great is, I can go there again and again without fearing the consequences.

P.s. I liked the fact that his son, Joe Hill, helped him out with this one.

5/5 stars.


:)

World War Z

To be honest, I wouldn't call myself a lover of zombie fiction. But I'm not a hater either. I've actually wanted to write my own zombie book one day but it would always be complicated by, no pun intended, a dead end.

For me I'm not attracted to the gore or disgust factor. When I read something, I want it to engage me. I want my curiosity to go into overload. I've always been drawn to a certain genre which I think zombies fall under: Survival Horror.

From the Resident Evil Series by S.D. Perry, I found that zombies became a backdrop, more of an underlying danger. The series focuses mainly on shooter, puzzle solving and object collecting. Every once and a while you get hit with hordes of flesh-eaters busting through a window or completely coming out of nowhere. The focus was mainly being trapped in a building with the threat of zombies hanging over the characters heads.

Those books were good for a while. Not groundbreaking but they reminded me of the games.

Then I stumbled across this one called The Zombie Survival Handbook by Max Brooks. I got a kick out of it. I thought it was supposed to be funny. I combed through a hundred or so pages and laughed occasionally but what really surprised me was how serious this author had taken it. The guide was reading like an actual survival guide, each piece of instruction told with the utmost meticulous care. It kind of creeped me out that it felt so heavily researched, almost as if I were living in an era where the undead once roamed and survival tactics were common place. In the end, I gave the book to a friend, but the tips were tightly tucked away in the corner of my mind.

Then a couple days ago, I decided to rent a copy of World War Z, expecting the same old stuff. What I got was an eye-opener. As the book's subtitle says, the story is meant to be "an oral history of the zombie war" and boy, does it deliver. I can't believe its taken six years to finally pick up this one book.

This book is made popular by the fact that it accomplishes a thorough narrative while still being compelling. In it, a man responsible for writing the United Nations Post War Commission is dismayed by the fact that the government left out a lot of the personal stories. They just wanted to collect the facts. So, in an effort to tell the human side of the zombie war, the man compiles this document of one-on-one personal stories, interviews and narratives. They vary and are rich in detail as well as personal thoughts and struggles.

The war has been over for about a decade but the scars still run deep. Through these characters we found out how life really was in those times. The origin of the infection is documented as well as the social, government, military, economic, and environmental effect of the growing plague.

New weapons and armor had to be invented, governments were scrambling to contain the threat, people had to use their wits to outmaneuver the "zacks" - i.e. what they call the zombies.

This is such a unique take on the genre, focusing on the survivors and have them tell it in their own words. It gives the words weight and paints a lucid picture.

It was more lucid for me because I listened to the six hour audio-book version, which cast people like Mark Hamill, John Turturro, Henry Rollins, Carl and Rob Riener and Alan Alda as some of the survivors.

A film is in the works, naturally, but I'm not going to see it. Film will never compare to that magic that comes between you, your imagination and a really good book.

5/5 stars

Whatever Happened to Gooflumps?

(This book is deep.)The year is 1995. I was still in grade school and slowly coming to the end of the Goosebumps series. While only two or three of these books still hold a soft spot for me I always wondered, whatever happened to Gooflumps?

Did you hear about this?

I'd always get my Goosebumps book off of this one endcap in the book and magazine section of Target. But one day I saw two books included on the six shelves of R.L. Stine's hit series. These were called Gooflumps and they were a parody of two original books (Say Cheese and Die, Stay Out of The Basement) which were called Say Cheese and Barf and Stay Out of The Bathroom.

The details are still a bit shady in my mind but from what I remember, they were pretty funny. True, gross at times but when a kid reads something gross that's just because he has nothing better to do. There were only two in the series and it even said it on the cover: BUY 2- THAT'S IT.

But whatever happened to the author?

I did a little digging and found that the pen name which these books were written under (R. U. Slime) was just a clever cover for a man named Robert Hughes.

Apparently I can't find him doing anything after this short lived series.

I wonder where he went?

Under The Dome

(Third time's a charm.)I gotta admit...I liked it.

Of the few reviews that I have read of this book, I have to say, I don't think they are altogether fair.

First, this is a gargantuan book which was previously started several times. The last time he got 400+ pages in and lost the manuscript.

I have to say that for his third outing, I think he nailed it.

Second, this book was a bit of a risk for me. I like reading Stephen King's stuff as much as the next guy. But, alas, I have been disappointed in the past.

The last long book of his that I gave a try had been Duma Key, a story of a man coming to grips with the loss of his arm by retiring to Florida  He learns to paint with his remaining arm but supernatural elements have a tendency to stick to his artwork. If there's one thing I learned from that book its that it had to be 1,000 pages because the details really drive the story. But for now, let's focus on Under The Dome.

It all takes place in a small town called Chester's Mill. A former Iraq vet turned fry cook is making his way out of town because he doesn't want no trouble. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a dome quietly but forcefully encapsulates the town.

Before the dome, it was a very corrupt town. A selectman named Big Jim Rennie ran some shady deals and since the dome cut off the town he feels more empowered than before. A well-crafted villain who believes he's doing right by the town every step of the way. Those are the villains that scare me the most.

By trapping these characters in this dome, not only do you feel their struggle, but you can also see how bureaucracy suddenly transforms into neglect and a hidden dictatorship.  The dome also wreaks havoc on the environment on the inside, trapping all manner of gas and heat, making it very difficult on the inhabitants.

There are also political overtones in what happens when the wrong people take over, masking their intentions as being for the good of the people.

But the whole driving force for me reading is the need to find out what would happen next.

One of the many things people say is that this was too long and the characters were thin. I couldn't disagree more. Each character was well-crafted, had a history. This is a common thing with king. It can either help him or harm him. Sometimes the details of just one character can go on ad nauseam. But the back story on each character was well-written to the point as if I had met them before.

Maybe its because I got a bit of a bias when sitting down with this book because I hail from a small town. But the way the town operates is a little too close to home. I wanted to escape.

The book was also very unpredictable. Every time I thought I got a handle on things, King would surprise me with something else.

The book is part Science Fiction/ Dystopian novel.

This book was so intriguing, it made me launch right into his next book...11/22/63.