Greg Levin's Blog, page 8

This Guy's a Real Character: An Interview with the (anti)Hero of 'In Wolves' Clothing'

Ever since my novel In Wolves’ Clothing launched in October, I’ve been meaning to interview Zero Slade, the main character in the book. However, we’ve both been extremely busy—he with traveling the world risking everything to rescue victims of child sex trafficking, and I with getting therapy to help me recover from writing a novel about a guy like Zero. The two of us finally got a chance to sit down and talk to myself this week. Here's the transcript from our candid conversation:

Me: Hi, Zero—great to see you again!

Zero: (Clenches jaw.) Don’t start with me, Greg.

Me: What’s the matter? Why so irked?

Zero: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the jet lag. Or perhaps the opioid withdrawal. But more than likely it’s just the chronic pain from, you know, my recent gunshot wound.

Me: Sorry, man. That’s all still bothering you, huh?

Zero: (Glares at me in silence.)

Me: If this isn’t a good time, we can reschedule.

Zero: Nah, I’m off to Laos tomorrow, then Mumbai after that. Let’s just get this over with.

Me: Okay, but you seem a little stressed out. Have you considered taking some time off from work?  

Zero: I already took some time off from work. After getting shot on the job. Remember?

Me: Okay, okay, relax. You’re acting like I pulled the trigger.

Zero: And you’re acting like you didn’t.

Me: Oh, I see how it is. You know, you’re not the only one with a difficult job around here. I’d like to see you try to create page upon page of compelling narrative and dialogue while under tremendous pressure to constantly raise the stakes and build tension to ensure readers remain riveted.

Zero: Oh yes, we’re all sooo impressed by your ability to write dangerous and harrowing scenes. But guess what: You wouldn’t last ten seconds in a single one of them. So don’t tell me about “difficult jobs,” you entitled little prick. It’s one thing to sit in a safe little room and type words that describe eight- and nine-year-old girls being rescued from the horrors of sex trafficking. It’s another thing entirely to be the guy who has to actually go in and be the girls’ worst nightmare so that their worst nightmare can finally end. (Extends arm and drops microphone at my feet.)

Me: (Sniffles.) 

Zero: Aw, man. C’mon, don’t cry. (Hands me a tissue.) Jesus—you writer-types are so damn sensitive.

Me: (Wipes eyes and blows nose.) Sorry, it’s just … that book took a lot out of me. But I’m being selfish. I can only imagine what everything was like for you.

Zero: It’s okay, man. The story had to be told.

Me: So you’re not mad at me?

Zero: I mean, I probably won’t be having you over to the house anytime soon—or buying the book—but I do kind of owe my life to you, so I guess we’re good.

Me: Glad to hear that, because I had this idea for a sequel where—

Zero: Don’t push it, Author Boy.   

Me: Sorry. It’s just that what you and the other members of Operation Emancipation do is so intriguing. Can I at least ask you a few questions about it, for the benefit of our audience?

Zero: Audience? You mean people actually read your blog?

Me: Um, for your information, smartass … I think so. Not really sure. But I do have a fair number of subscribers—a few of whom even open the emails I send them.

Zero: Your mother must be so proud.

Me: Actually, she recently unsubscribed. Anyway, let's get to those questions.

Zero: Fire away.

Me: For the people out there unfamiliar with my novel, which is pretty much everyone, could you please describe what you do? 

Zero: I’m a fake sex tourist.

Me: Yeah, um, care to elaborate?

Zero: (Rolls eyes, sighs.) I’m a member of a team that jets around the globe pretending to be pedophiles to trick pimps and liberate child victims from sex trafficking. I‘m talking the most heartbreaking sting operations you can imagine. And far too many frequent-flyer miles. 

Me: How does one end up in such a unique and difficult line of work?

Zero: Mostly by screwing up in a previous and more “illustrious” line of work related to law enforcement, national security and/or intelligence. In my case, I screwed up as a CIA agent. Some of my current colleagues and closest friends, they screwed up as FBI agents, Navy SEALs, Secret Service agents, Green Berets. That’s as specific as I can get without having to legally kill you.    

Me: Well then, moving on. Do you like what you do?

Zero: It’s kind of stupid to ask someone if they like playing the role of the vilest type of scumbag on earth. I’ll answer the question anyway: I hate that my job is necessary, but I like—and am damn proud of—what we’ve been able to accomplish.

Me: (Sniffles.)

Zero: Oh for chrissakes. Again with the crying? Dude, you must have been an absolute mess while researching and writing the book.

Me: (Wipes eyes and nose on sleeve.) It’s true. I was.

Zero: I mean, the shock and the anger and the sadness you must have experienced when you learned that over two million children are subjected to prostitution in the global commercial sex trade. And that the average age of these children is around twelve. And that their average life span after being trafficked is seven years, with many dying from assault, abuse, HIV, malnutrition, drug overdose or suicide.

Me: Well, the more shocked, angry and upset I became, the more I knew I had to write the book.

Zero: And I’m glad you did. Also, I’m glad you gave me and the guys on my team a sense of humor to help us survive and stay mostly sane on the job. And while I probably could have done without all the oxycodone and bourbon you gave me throughout much of the story, I appreciate you trying to help me numb the pain.

Me: Thanks, man. I figured if I needed those things to write the book, you definitely needed them to live it.  

Zero: How thoughtful of you.

Me: You’re welcome.

Zero: Now, what I’m not glad about and don’t appreciate is how you just HAD to have me overdose, causing my wife to find out about my opioid use and force me into rehab.

Me: I was trying to get you clean!

Zero: I know, but you know what would have been really helpful? Um, not having me get SHOT right after that. You see, having full access to powerful prescription painkillers is, uh, sort of nice after a metal slug has torn through your torso.

Me: I understand your frustration, but as I alluded to before, people who read thrillers demand mounting tension, danger and mayhem.

Zero: SCREW them!  

Me: You really shouldn’t scream and strain like that—you’ll pop your sutures.

Zero: Good! That would add "tension, danger and mayhem” to this interview. Your readers will be overjoyed.

Me: Oh, stop it. Honestly, I don’t know what you’re so angry and upset about—people really like the book. Have you seen the reviews? Readers love you  … actually, “love” may be a bit of an embellishment. They do, however, respect the hell out of you. Most of them, anyway.

Zero: Big deal. You think I care what thousands of people on Amazon think of me? 

Me: I never said thousands. Who do you think I am, J.K. Rowling? 

Zero: Whatever. Point is, I don’t have time to look at reviews or worry about readers’ opinions. All I care about is helping to free as many young girls from the clutches of traffickers and pimps as I can before I die, which, if you write a sequel, could be really soon.

Me: I understand and admire that. But can you stick around for just a couple more questions?

Zero: Fine, but then I gotta go.

Me: Okay. First, how's your wife?

Zero: Neda's doing well. I mean, you know, we're still working things out. With someone like me, that's no easy task. But Neda's tough as nails and doesn’t take any of my sh*t. She easily could have split and stayed gone after, well, everything. I'm grateful she hasn't given up on me yet.

Me: You’re welcome. And now for the last question.

Zero: Bring it.

Me: Okay, but to avoid any spoilers, I need to be careful how I ask it—and you need to be careful how you answer it. 

Zero: Is this about the ending?

Me: Yup. Ready?

Zero: (Takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, then nods.)

Me: A lot of readers were shocked and surprised by how things concluded in the book. Some have said they were initially so stunned, they had to go back and make sure they had it right.

Zero: Yeah, same here.

Me: My question is, what exactly went through your mind when you found out what you found out?

Zero: You’d already know the answer to that if you hadn’t ended things so abruptly.

Me: It was a conscious artistic choice, and I stand by it. I felt it enhanced the emotional impact.

Zero: Well, I guess I should thank you for fading to black right when you did. It wouldn’t have done anyone any good to see all the tears and snot pouring out of me just before I called Neda from the hospital to tell her the news.

Me: Yeah, I figured you deserved some privacy.

Zero: Thanks, man.

Me: At least until the sequel.

Zero: (Standing up.) This interview’s over.

 

NOTE: Zero stormed off before I could tell him I was just kidding, that I’m not actually working on a sequel to ‘In Wolves’ Clothing.’ After all, there’s only so much sex trafficking research an author can do before burning out and/or getting investigated by the FBI. That said, I have toyed around with the idea of one day writing a spin-off of IWC. It would feature Sung (one of the young girls Zero helped rescue in Cambodia) fifteen or twenty years later—seeking revenge on all the men involved in her being trafficked as a child. Hell, I’d read a book like that. So I may just have to write it. …        

Letter to My Younger Writer Self

I’m not successful enough to preach to younger writers about what it takes to succeed as an author. I am, however, absurd enough to preach to my younger writer self to help ensure he doesn’t end up just like me. (And if such preaching winds up helping others, too, well that’s just a bonus—provided they don’t become more successful than my younger self does.)

Following is a letter I’ve written to twenty-year-old me. I just hope it reaches him before he gets kicked out of the dorm I’m mailing it to.

Dear 1989 Me,

I hope this letter finds you well. I would have emailed you, but email won’t exist for another four or five years. Consider yourself lucky. 

This is not an easy letter for me to compose. For one, I’ve been drinking. Steadily since about 1997. Secondly, I’ve never been very good at delivering bad news. But here goes … I’m just gonna come right out and say it:

Greg … you’re a writer.  

I know this must come as a bit of a shock to you, especially considering what Professor Merton said about your essay in class the other day. But trust me, you are a writer, and unfortunately there’s nothing you can do about it.

Actually, there is something you can do about it—you can get a lot better at writing. And at being a writer. Don’t worry, I’m here to help. To share the mistakes I’ve made, the lessons I’ve learned and, most importantly, to let you in on how to get approved for more Amazon book categories so you can increase your chances of hitting bestseller lists. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let’s stick to the basics for now:

Read every day. And not just the books assigned by your professors. Also, nothing with a glossy cover .... or anything written by Cormac McCarthy or Haruki Murakami—their powerful stories and unattainable level of talent will depress the hell out of you and make you think you don’t deserve to write.

Be sure to read the following brilliant (but not so brilliant they’ll destroy you) authors as soon as possible: Franz Kafka, Albert Camus, Clarice Lispector, Henry Miller, Vladimir Nabokov, Kurt Vonnegut, Raymond Chandler, Joan Didion, Elmore Leonard, Donna Tartt, Margaret Atwood, Amy Hempel, Irvine Welsh …  Tell you what, I’ll send you a complete reading list in a subsequent letter. There’s not enough space here and we have to move on.

Write every day. It can be fiction or non-fiction or poetry, but go easy on the poetry. It doesn’t have to be perfect or even good. Yet. And you needn’t hit any lofty daily word-count goals. Just write.

If you ever find yourself without a typewriter or a word processor or a pen or a pencil, use your own blood. And if you can’t find any paper, use your own skin or clothes or those of your roommate. If you’re not sure what to write about, write about the time your future self sent you a letter encouraging you to write in your own blood. Readers love that kind of stuff. At least our kind of readers do.      

Make friends with mean people who know how to write. People like Professor Merton, only with better hygiene and office hours. These folks will tell you straight out when your essay or story or novel sucks, and will provide you with specific reasons why so you can get better.

Now, I’m not saying you need to surround yourself only with talented and brash a-holes, but it’s important to have at least two or three in your life at all times. At the risk of sounding cocky, you can count me as one of those a-holes.

Don’t be cocky. Relax, Junior, I’m not hinting that you’re going to become a world-famous author who can almost get away with being a pompous prick. After all, neither of us are Jonathan Franzen. However, you are going to develop a decent-sized readership—especially if you follow the advice I’ve provided thus far. And if you want to maintain and grow that readership, it’s critical to be kind, generous and humble. I’ve gotten pretty great at it.

The key is to always remember you’re nowhere near as good as Mom thinks we are. You’ll never be Cormac McCarthy or Haruki Murakami. And please don’t be Jonathan Franzen. Just be the following: 1)) thankful you have the freedom and (some) ability to express yourself creatively through the written word; and 2) grateful for every single person who takes time out of their hectic life to read something you’ve written—even more so if they pay to read it and aren’t even related to you.

Make your debut novel your third or fourth. I often tell aspiring writers that debut novels rarely do well and thus it’s better to start off with a later one. They think I’m just being snarky and absurd because, well, they know me, but there is an element of truth in irreverent nonsense.

Point is, when you finish your first novel—and you will— please remember you’re not even close to being done with it. Get it critiqued by some of those mean writer friends I mentioned earlier. Then rewrite the hell out of most of it, and get it critiqued again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Do this until you can no longer stand to even glance at your manuscript. Only then is it probably suitable for the reading public.    

Don’t view authors who write in your genre as “the competition.” As much fun as it is to sit alone in a room for days on end putting imaginary people through living hell while cursing writers who are more successful than you, you shouldn’t. At least not that last part. Writing is not a “you against the world” endeavor. Get out and connect with other authors, particularly authors who write the same kind of stuff you do but better. Why? Because those folks have fans, and those fans are likely to enjoy your writing … assuming you get this letter in time.

Readers aren’t monogamous. They’re not faithful to any one author. They have “a type,” and will give just about any author who fits that type a go. They’re like cheerleaders who sleep with everyone on the team, except they’re more literate and have fewer STDs. So go ahead and join forces with authors in your genre. Network. Collaborate. Ride coattails. Such socializing and schmoozing may seem like a lot of work, young me, but fear not—in less than ten years a thing called the Internet will allow you to become instant best friends with hundreds of writers just like you without having to leave your lonely little room. That’s right, heaven awaits.        

Don’t EVER neglect family or close friends for your writing. I’ve learned this one the hard way so you won’t have to, young me. There will be times when all you can think about is the sentence/paragraph/chapter/tweet you’re working on. And it’s at those times when you’ll need to remember what’s most important. As critical as your writing may seem, nothing trumps your parents or siblings or spouse or friends or therapist or weed dealer—except for when you get a really good idea for a novel during a funeral or family reunion.

I nearly lost a couple of people near and dear to me while writing and editing my last book. I came even closer to losing them again while writing and editing this blog post. But just because I’ve yet to figure out how to balance my writing and personal life doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have the same struggle. But you almost certainly will. So get help now, then send a letter to future you (me) and tell me everything I need to do. Hurry—I think I heard your future wife packing a suitcase this morning while I was working on what I’m pretty sure is my masterpiece.  

 

Okay, that's it for now.

Actually, just one more thing: Buy Apple stock ASAP. 

Sincerely,

2018 You

 

Turns out, postage to the past is extremely expensive. If you’d like to help me cover the cost of getting this letter to younger me, feel free to make a donation via my Amazon page.  

Five Ways to Make Author Readings More Exciting

Good authors put absolutely everything they have into each book they write. The trouble with this is, when it comes time for them to make a public appearance, they usually have absolutely nothing left. They’re sapped of their physical and emotional strength, their authorial power and enthusiasm, their ability to arrive to the venue on time.

Add to this the fact that many writers are introverts, and you begin to see why live author readings are one of the leading cures for insomnia.   

It doesn’t have to be this way. Hell, it shouldn’t be this way. Any author who’s good enough to be invited someplace to read to a crowd owes it to that crowd to bring—and to elicit—the same level of energy and excitement that went into the writing. Actually, they need to bring even more. The people in the audience gave up binge-watching Stranger Things and braved traffic and human contact to come to the event. They deserve to be dazzled, captivated, shocked.  

So how can bookstores and event organizers ensure such excitement and entertainment at readings?

I have some ideas:

1) Force the author to read pages on fire. To be clear, the pages—not the author—should be on fire. It’s not only unsafe and unkind to set an author on fire, it’s illegal in some U.S. states.

Here’s how the pages-on-fire thing works: Several pages from the author’s book are printed out on standard 8.5 x 11 paper. The first page is lit at the top with a match or lighter and handed to the author, who then must read fast enough to stay ahead of the flames and to avoid second- or third-degree burns, but not so fast that they blur over any major plot points and confuse the audience. 

I’ve seen this type of reading done before, and it’s a lot of fun. For the audience, anyway. It’s especially fun when the author giving the reading is a sloppy drunk, as the presence of ethanol on clothes/skin increases the chances that an ambulance and the local fire department will make an appearance. And what’s a reading event without ambulances and fire trucks?       

2) Allow fights between the author and audience members. One thing that’s sadly lacking at most reading events is bloodshed. Sure, there’s the occasional exception, like when Stephen King’s fingers began to bleed during a signing in Seattle and he continued bandage-free for all the fans who were clamoring for authentic Stephen King blood on their book. (I’m not kidding.) But such invigorating trauma during author appearances is rare.

That can easily be changed. Bookstores and other venues could fill a ton of seats during readings simply by lowering security and allowing bored and disgruntled fans to throw solid objects at authors, or to rush the podium and tackle them. The venues could ratchet the fun up a few notches by not only allowing but also encouraging such melees to occur—maybe even taking bets from the crowd on who wins. To help ensure the author fights back tooth and nail (thus increasing the excitement even more), the venue could promise them a healthy cut of the earnings as well as a positive Amazon review from all in attendance if they win.

3) Have a stunt double do the reading. Even with the imminent threat of serious burns or beatings, some authors are simply too depressed and/or disassociated to spring to life at a public reading. A great way to fend against this and ensure the audience remains enthralled is to replace the author with a stunt double—someone who looks at least a little like the author’s bio photo and who isn’t afraid to do ridiculously risqué or dangerous things.

Studies have shown that people are 98 percent more likely to show up and stick around for a reading event when the reading is completed in the nude and/or while jumping out of a fourteenth-floor window. That number climbs to 100 percent if the author in question is Stephenie Meyer.

An added bonus: Because most stunt people are trained in some form of martial art, any attacks by disgruntled (or overly excited) fans are sure to result in the kinds of compound fractures that really captivate a crowd and turn a midlist author into an international mega-bestselling legend.            

4) Let the author’s significant other have the podium. No matter how gripping or heartbreaking or inspiring a book is, nothing compares to listening to the wife, husband or partner of the person who wrote it talk about the fresh hell of living with an author. In fact, I’ll bet a candid rant by Tabitha King is ten times scarier than anything her spouse Stephen has ever written. (And she, too, is an author, which I’m sure only adds to the horror.)  

Sure, an author’s significant other may initially act like they’re extremely proud and supportive of the demon they share a roof with. But if the venue serves alcohol, you could be in for a real treat, especially if the significant other is invited to say a few words after the reading. If they are not invited to do so, feel free to step up and invite them yourself. Just be sure to pat them down first.                   

5) Serve alcohol. Not only will alcohol help the author’s significant other come unhinged, it pretty much guarantees most of the other things suggested in this post will happen with no additional planning or preparation required.

 

Speaking of authors and reading and books, there's a big ebook giveaway being hosted by the good folks over at Authors XP. You can enter for a chance to win up to 35 crime/thriller ebooks! (It just so happens my latest novel, In Wolves’ Clothing, is among them.) To learn more about the giveaway, click HERE. 

Five Under-the-Radar Authors of Fun, Gritty Fiction You Need to Read

One of my favorite things to do when not writing dangerous novels is read them. (No, not my own—that would be weird to admit publicly.) I love sinking into the sofa and getting lost in good books chock full of bad. Books with characters you’d run from in real life but can’t resist rooting for on the page. Characters who do awful things for noble reasons. Characters who take crazy risks for what they feel is right.

Characters who punch you in the gut as they steal your heart—and who make you laugh as you bleed out.

You’ll find such appealingly unlikeable characters in books by the likes of Chuck Palahniuk, Bret Easton Ellis, Gillian Flynn, Irvine Welsh.

But I’m not here to talk about those authors. They don’t need me to. They’re already famous. Today I’d like to instead shine the spotlight on several lesser-known (but not lesser) writers whose fresh, gritty and in some cases hilarious fiction will knock you for a loop, or on your ass. Or both.

Brace for impact.

 

Mike McCrary. The first time I read Mike McCrary, I didn’t. He did. He was giving a reading from his darkly comical crime thriller Genuinely Dangerous at a “Noir at the Bar” event I was attending in Austin, and his words blazed the crowd, eliciting gasps and guffaws. My first thought was, “Is this guy that good, or am I just drunk?” And then, after listening to him read more, I realized both were true.

If you dig funny, fast-paced, enthralling neo-noir—and can handle it served with a generous portion of profanity—I highly recommend you give Genuinely Dangerous a go. Same goes for McCrary’s novel Steady Trouble as well as his audacious Remo Cobb series. You can get the first book of that series (Remo Went Rogue) for FREE simply by joining McCrary’s mailing list here. (Books this good shouldn’t be free, but Mike is just too damn nice a guy … despite what his novels may imply.)

Learn more and/or connect with Mike McCrary

Website

Amazon

Twitter

Facebook

 

Sarah M. Chen. Not many crime fiction authors write with as much fun, hardboiled flare as Sarah M. Chen does. And practically none of them can write with as much authority. Chen works as a private investigator assistant in and around her home city of Los Angeles. So when not busy concocting crimes, she’s helping to solve them. This would be like me working as a serial killer or drug-addicted sociopath when not busy writing. (Man, if only the latter one paid.)   

Chen has had dozens of crime fiction short stories published, and her debut novella, Cleaning Up Finn (which one dazzled critic characterized as “West Coast restaurant noir”) was a finalist for the Anthony Award and the Lefty Award—both coveted prizes in the mystery/thriller world. The novella also earned Chen an Independent Publisher Book Award, a.k.a., an “IPPY.” (IPPYs are a big deal, and I’m not just saying that because I’ve won two of them.) This March, be on the lookout for The Night of the Flood, a highly anticipated “novel-in-stories” Chen contributed to and co-edited with the inimitable crime/mystery author E.A. Aymar.

Learn more and/or connect with Sarah M. Chen

Website

Amazon

Twitter

Facebook

 

Scott Kelly. Scott Kelly and I first met the same way most middle-aged white male novelists meet—at a late-night freestyle rap circle out front of the Texas State Capitol building. I was there to rap; Kelly was there to hand out copies of one of his books. It goes without saying we were both under the influence.

Even more intriguing than our “meet-cute” are Kelly’s novels, which can best be described as existential transgressive psychological thrillers. Okay, maybe that’s not how they’re best described since that was a real clunky bunch of words. (What do you want from me—I’m only a writer.) Suffice it to say Kelly’s books are great—dark, provocative and sardonically funny. I recommend starting with Keep the Ghost (the first book of his Keep the Ghost Trilogy). It’s a mesmerizing tale of “pseudocide,” which is the faking of one’s death to wipe the slate clean and start over as a new person. Something we’ve all fantasized about—especially those of us with children.

Learn more and/or connect with Scott Kelly

Website

Amazon

Facebook

 

Jen Conley. Jen Conley is one of the best short story writers you’ve never read. Saying so may be a little presumptuous of me—and a little insulting to her (and her fans)—but I wanted to grab your attention ... the same way Conley’s fierce yet soulful tales of lonely hearts, stolen goods and broken bones will.

Her work has appeared in such notable publications as Thuglit, Crime Factory and Beat to a Pulp, to name just a few. If you’re a fan of short crime/noir fiction, you must check out her Anthony Award-nominated book, Cannibals: Stories from the Edge of the Pine Barrens. And if you’re not a fan of short crime/noir fiction, be careful—Cannibals will turn you into one.      

Learn more and/or connect with Jen Conley

Website

Amazon

Twitter

 

Eryk Pruitt. If you like epic tales of good triumphing over evil, of true courage in the face of peril, and of love conquering all, you’re going to hate Eryk Pruitt.

If, on the other hand, you’re into reading about con artists, social media narcissists and aspiring serial killers who make bad choice after bad choice with the best intentions, then not only will you love Pruitt’s masterfully minimalist Southern noir, but also you and I can be best friends.

Pruitt’s latest novel, What We Reckon, is, according to author Joe R. Lansdale, "hardboiled honey packed with razor blades and dynamite, strange and leanly written, and tossed into a tornado; … a modern piece of folklore covered in gasoline and set on fire.”

Wow, my mother said the exact same thing after reading it. But don’t just take her (or Joe’s or my) word for it; go read What We Reckon—and Pruitt’s two other gloriously gritty books, Dirtbags and Hashtag.  

Learn more and/or connect with Eryk Pruitt

Website

Amazon

Twitter

 

I hope some or all of these authors have piqued your interest. If you decide to read (or have read) one of their books and like(d) it, let me know. More importantly, let the AUTHOR and everyone else know by writing a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

Who are some of your favorite writers you feel are “under the radar” and well-deserving of a larger readership? (Mom and Dad, you don't have to list me.) 

Buy a Book, Help Rescue Children

January is Human Trafficking Awareness Month, and today—January 11—is Human Trafficking Awareness Day.

Some of you may be wondering why I, a writer of darkly comedic thrillers and satirical ramblings, would bother to bring up the topic of human trafficking on my blog. Well, because my latest novel, In Wolves’ Clothing, centers around the hellish world of sex slavery. Of course, now some of you may be wondering why a comedic author would go anywhere near such a topic in a book. Well, my therapist and I are still trying to get to the bottom of that.

But I didn’t come here to talk about my mental health. I came here to tell you I’ll be donating 100 percent of the proceeds from this month’s sales of In Wolves’ Clothing to Operation Underground Railroad (OUR). OUR is an incredible organization dedicated to rescuing child victims of sex trafficking across the globe. (FYI: The main character in my novel is actually loosely based on a former undercover OUR team member.)

The point is, now would be a great time to to buy a copy of IWC—either the paperback or the Kindle version. If you already have a copy, now would be a great time to buyanother one … and to tell everyone you know to get a copy of their own. Each purchase directly supports the critical work OUR does … and will save me from the embarrassment of having to write them a check containing only decimals at the end of the month. (Again, every cent I earn from IWC sales in January will go to OUR.)

In case you need a little more of a push before diving into a book like In Wolves’ Clothing, check out what reviewers are saying about it:

"A truly original and enthralling novel. Levin's blazing prose and acerbic wit capture the madness and the humanity of working undercover in the darkest corners.”

"With a thriller's pace and twists, the novel grabs you and won't let go. And it goes deep.”

“A sharp novel, both in action and in style, with fabulous dialogue and a flawed hero you’ll love.”

“A powerful, heartbreaking yet inspirational masterpiece.”

Whether or not you buy my book, I encourage you to visit OUR’s website and to follow them on Facebook and/or Twitter to learn more about what they do, the tremendous impact they’ve had, and the ambitious goals they aim to accomplish going forward in their fight against child sex trafficking.

Thank you very much for your time and for your attention to this important issue. 

Seven Holiday Gift Ideas for the Writers in Your Life

Every holiday season, I get bombarded with messages from friends and fans telling me they’re dying to buy me a present but don’t know what to get such an accomplished author. Or maybe that’s just the dream I have every holiday season. It doesn’t really matter—I’m a fiction writer, thus fantasy and reality are interchangeable.

Besides, the holidays should be more about giving than receiving. That’s why I’m going to give you all something right now: An awesome list of ideas for gifts you can get me and the other writers in your life.

Some of the items on the list are just for fun, while others are extremely practical. The important thing is that all of them should be sent to my home address very soon to ensure they arrive by the last day of Hanukkah.

You’re welcome.  

 

1) Bourbon of the Month Club membership. Alcohol has long helped writers by opening up creative channels and loosening the flow of prose. Without it, the world would likely be without such literary masterpieces as The Great Gatsby, The Sound and the Fury and The Sun Also Rises. And the world would definitely be without this blog post. Alcohol not only serves as a muse, it dulls the pain authors experience whenever their manuscript is rejected, their book doesn’t sell, or their tweet doesn’t get re-tweeted.

Some of you may be thinking, “But Greg, what if my writer friend doesn’t drink?” My response is, “I don’t understand the question.” Others might be thinking, “Why Bourbon of the Month Club?” My response to that is, “I couldn’t find a Bourbon of the Day Club.”  

 

2) Remote cabin getaway. Whether a rustic Airbnb rental or an abandoned shack where an unsolved murder occurred decades ago, this gift will provide the peace and quiet your writer needs to clearly hear the voices in their head.

Ideally, you’ll want to find a place that doesn’t have wifi, TV, heating, air conditioning or anything else that might risk making the writer too happy and comfortable to produce anything of true literary value. Just keep in mind that, while suffering is good for a writer, dying is not (despite the boost in sales of existing books that death can provide). So be sure to stock the cabin with enough food to keep them alive during their retreat, and to remove all sharp objects and rope for the same reason.

 

3) Noise-canceling headphones. Not every writer has the luxury of being able to go away and suffer for days in a quiet cabin. Many have to stay home to do their telemarketing job and take care of their six cats. Fortunately, you can bring the quiet cabin directly to these scribes with a pair of noise-canceling headphones. There’s simply no better way for a domesticated writer to drown out the cacophony of laughter and love that daily disrupts their novel in progress.

For those of you on a budget or who are too cheap to spring for noise-canceling headphones, viable alternatives to help your writer friend shut out the real world include silicone earplugs, fluffy earmuffs, or slipping everyone they live with an Ambien.

 

4) Treadmill desk. Writers often spend days on end sitting in front of their computer, lost in their own imagination. This is great for creating new worlds; unfortunately, it’s even better for creating major heart attacks. Studies indicate that the sedentary nature of novel writing is the third leading contributor to death among fiction authors, trailing only substance abuse and accidents resulting from setting manuscripts on fire.

Giving a writer a treadmill desk not only shows you care about them and their health, it helps to ensure they won’t die before they finish Book Three of the trilogy they have you hooked on.

 

5) Hygiene app. It’s very easy to forget to bathe when totally focused on creating plot twists, getting drunk and setting fires. Now, this is not to suggest that all writers struggle to maintain personal hygiene. Surely J.K. Rowling and Stephen King have staff on hand to wipe them down at regular intervals. For the rest of the writing populace, there’s an app for that.

A hygiene app will remind hardworking authors to hop in the shower after every few chapters and to brush their teeth before passing out each morning, afternoon and night. These apps make for very affordable gifts and practically guarantee that the only foul odor coming from your writer friends will be their decaying dreams of earning a living wage.

 

6) Helmet. “Safety first” is something chemistry and industrial arts teachers continuously preach in class. Why English teachers don’t do the same is beyond me. If more of them took time to educate students on the dangers of writing, then emergency rooms would likely handle a million fewer self-inflicted head injuries each year.

But rather than blame the educational system, do your friends and family members who are writers a favor and gift them a helmet for the holidays. Sure, you could instead try convincing them to stop slamming their head against walls and desks and literary agents every time they get writer’s block or a rejection notice, but we all know that’s never going to change.

Please note that if you end up getting a writer the Bourbon of the Month Club membership and the treadmill desk I listed earlier, then you are legally obligated to throw in a helmet.

 

7) Impressive Amazon ranking. While the aforementioned gift ideas collectively will help a writer be productive, fit and inebriated, none of them will improve their Amazon ranking and make them feel better than every writer they know, which is all any writer really wants. Fortunately, this is an easy gift to provide. All you need to do is buy every book the writer has ever written and demand that all your friends and relatives and Twitter followers do the same. It's the gift that keeps on giving the seratonin boost a writer needs to keep from hurting themselves or anyone else.    

Such a gift needn't break the bank, especially if you stick to buying only the Kindle version of each book, and especially especially if the writer has some of their Kindle books on sale for just $0.99—like this one, for instance.

 

The holidays aren’t just about giving; they’re also about outdoing others. So feel free to share your much better gift ideas for writers in the comments section, which is located beneath the banner aimed at helping you buy my new novel.

Thanks, and ...

 HAPPY WHATEVER-YOU-CELEBRATE! May 2018 be nothing even remotely like 2017.

The Books I'm Most Thankful For

For a while now, I’ve been meaning to give a shout-out to the books that have profoundly influenced my life and writing. And with Thanksgiving just two days away, I figured it was the perfect time to do so—especially since my obsession with books and writing has alienated all my family and friends, leaving me with nothing else to do during this fine holiday week. (It's okay, I'll just pretend I'm British or Canadian. I'm getting good at it.)

Some of the books featured below shook me to the core when my core needed to be shaken. Some got me through the roughest of times. And some shattered my preconceived notions about what it is to be human, what it is to be alive, what it is to pick up the check at a restaurant once in a while.

All of them transformed me in some positive way … just not enough to get me invited to anyone’s house this Thursday. 

But enough with the chit-chat. On to the books I’m most thankful for:

 

The Cat in the Hat (by Dr. Seuss). Those who know me know I am a bit wacky, enjoy breaking rules and love to rap. The Cat in the Hat is the reason for all that. When I was a small child, my mother read it to me at bedtime with the hope that I’d fall asleep. I’ve been awake ever since—running around embracing absurdity, laughing in the face of authority, and spontaneously spitting mad rhymes to complete strangers. (I'm beginning to see even more clearly why I'm free for Thanksgiving.)         

 

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (by Mark Twain). This was the first big book (336 pages) I read voluntarily, and, more importantly, the book that woke me up to America’s history of slavery and racism. I found a copy of it on my parents’ bookshelf one summer day when I was ten, and was shocked by its frequent use of the “N” word. Not even a Lil Wayne album can compete.   

I’ve experienced a lot of emotions in my reading life, but few compare to the intense anger I felt toward my own race while reading Huck Finn, or to how moved I was by the book’s young protagonist defying his community and religion to ensure that an escaped slave remained a free man. I wanted to be like Huck ... only with better diction.   

 

Without Feathers (by Woody Allen). Woody Allen’s legendary status as a filmmaker, actor, comic and creepy cradle-robber has overshadowed the fact that he’s also a damn fine author. His first book, Without Feathers—a collection of short stories, essays and plays—changed my life in college. The sheer force of existential hilarity in his writing not only derailed my clinical depression, it inspired me to stop trying to impress my English professors with overly dramatic narratives and instead embrace the sardonic humor that was dying to hit the page.

Thanks to Woody, I went from being a brooding poser who elicited yawns during workshop readings to being an eager writer who caused classmates to pee their acid-washed jeans.            

 

Oh, the Places You’ll Go! (by that Seuss guy again). On the last day of my first post-college job (in Annapolis, Maryland, circa 1991), a coworker friend had everyone in our workplace sign a copy of Oh, the Places You’ll Go! for me to bring to Colorado, where I had decided to move because why not. I didn’t know a single sole in the Rocky Mountain state, but felt it was where I needed to ski … I mean be.

There were many lonely nights in the wintery town I ended up in, causing me to seriously question my decision to leave my friends, family and comfy job on the East Coast. But Oh, the Places You’ll Go! was there to assure me I’d made the right move. Seuss’s weird words of wisdom about travel and adventure and about finding and losing yourself—coupled with the envious and encouraging words my former coworkers had etched inside the cover—kept me from packing up and taking the safe route back to familiar environs. At least until the ski season ended and the money ran out six months later.   

 

A Confederacy of Dunces (by John Kennedy Toole). Until I read Dunces (at the insistence of an old college friend while I was living in Spain at the turn of the century), I had assumed literary writing could be hysterical only in small doses— short stories, one-act plays. I’d tried reading what I’d been told were funny novels on several occasions, only to be disappointed and exhausted in the end ... or well before reaching it.

And then came Dunces. I not only finished it with a big smile and sore abdominals, I did so in one sitting. The book managed to sustain its humor by not trying too hard to be humorous. Truth is, the protagonist—Ignatius J. Reilly—is downright off-putting and unlikeable. So naturally I loved him … so much so, I felt inspired to try my own hand at writing a comedic novel. Of course, those of you who have read my first novel may wish Ignatius and I had never met. But I’d like to think I’ve gotten better at long fiction since then. And I’d like to think you think so too.

I’ll be forever thankful for Dunces, for providing the spark I needed to follow my literary passion and earn less money than I ever dreamed possible.

 

Lolita (by Vladimir Nabokov). Say what you will about this book, so long as what you say is it’s astonishing. Lolita marked my introduction to—and everlasting love affair with—transgressive fiction. Transgressive novels are characterized by protagonists who feel confined by the norms and expectations of society and who break free of those confines in unusual or illicit ways. In other words, books featuring freaks and criminals you can’t help but root for.

Most of you will agree being bad can feel pretty good. Well, reading bad can feel even better ... even when the bad you’re reading is awful … provided the writing’s great. I’ve lost you. Sorry, I guess it’s just hard singing the praises of a book about a grown man falling madly in love with a twelve year-old girl. (I’ve got a daughter for goodness sake—and she’ll kick my ass if her friends’ parents end up boycotting sleepovers at our place because of this post.)  

Suffice it to say Lolita is the book that inspired me to start taking more risks with my own fiction. To explore controversial topics and moral complexities in my stories, and to develop protagonists readers hate to like. Or like to hate. I don’t really care, so long as liking’s involved in some way.

 

You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense (by Charles Bukowski). When people tell me they hate poetry, I tell them they're mistaken. This confuses them even more than poetry. I then tell them they have to read You Get So Alone and report back immediately. This compels those who hate being bossed around to take a swing at me. They're the ones who'll love the book the most.

Charles Bukowski was an ill-tempered, miserable bastard and a drunk of mythical proportions. Fortunately, all of that comes through in his poems. As does his humanity—you just have to peer beneath the barbed wire and broken bottles of bourbon to find it.

You Get So Alone is like an old cantankerous friend who always has your back ... even in a bar fight … even a bar fight you initiated with a bunch of armed bikers who were minding their own business. Point is, the book will help you get through hell. Hell like heartbreak. Hell like depression. Hell like sibling death. And it does this not by whispering that everything will be okay or by plying you with happy platitudes; rather by punching you in the face and reminding you how lucky you are to feel it.  

 

Fight Club (by Chuck Palahniuk). Speaking of getting punched in the face and liking it. When I read the first few chapters of Fight Club, I knew there was no going back. To old ways of thinking. To old ways of feeling. To old ways of writing. A switch I didn’t even know I had was flipped and a current like God shot through my bones.

The movie’s good, too.

Too bad the rules state I can’t talk about either. Just know I’m thankful for Fight Club the way Trump’s thankful for Twitter, or the way Saturday Night Live’s thankful for Trump.

 

I realize many of you are busy planning when to put the turkey in the oven and where to put your uncle after his fourth scotch, but if you have a minute, I’d love to hear what book(s) YOU’RE most thankful for. (Please share them in the comments section below.) Oh, and ...

HAPPY THANKSGIVING! 

Writing My Wrongs: An Open Apology to My Family

In my novels, I have a tendency to put the main characters through emotional and physical hell. They must endure such things as rapidly metastasizing cancer, the untimely deaths of loved ones, drug addiction and gunshot wounds.

In my actual life, I have a tendency to put my family through much worse.

In my defense, I’m a mean and awful person only when busy writing a book. Or rewriting a book. Or promoting a book. Or planning the next book. So, really only about eleven-and-a-half months out of the year. The rest of the time, I’m an absolute joy to be around.

Nevertheless, I’ve been meaning to formally apologize to my family—my wife and daughter, in particular—and now seems like the ideal time. I think we can all agree there’s no better way for an author to express sincere remorse and request forgiveness than through a blog post.  

So here goes ...

 

Dear Miranda and Leah,

I’m truly sorry for my mood swings and isolation and selfishness over the past several weeks and months and years. Please know it’s nothing personal. You’ve done nothing wrong—other than sometimes breathe too loudly or interrupt me with a sudden “Good morning” or “I love you” that totally takes me out of my writing groove. Still, as crippling as such interruptions are to the creative process, they’re no excuse for me to treat the most important people in my life with disdain.        

I’m also sorry you’ve had to endure all my loud arguments with imaginary people. And my shouting at blank pages. And me repeatedly banging my head against my desk. Trust me, it’s not like I enjoy waking you up in the middle of the night with such jarring sounds. After all, once you’re awake, you make noises that make it even harder for me to concentrate and write. So, as you can see, it’s miserable for everyone involved. But I’m willing to take most of the blame.

I’m sorry for always growling and barking at you when you step anywhere near my writing office while I’m in the midst of a critical scene or plot twist or tweet. Nobody should ever have to witness their husband or father behaving like a rabid dog, no matter how warranted such behavior might be. I hope you can forgive me. I also hope you can try not to step anywhere near my writing office while I’m in the midst of a critical scene or plot twist or tweet. (You can always go out your bedroom window to get to the kitchen, you know. Just remember your house key.)

I’m sorry for not being a very good listener in recent years. For sometimes ignoring you when you tell me about your day or your problems or whatever it is you’re always talking about while I’m trying to tell you about how the book is going. I love you guys so much and I really do want to know all about your lives. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to pay attention when what’s happening in my book is so much more thrilling. Again, I’m terribly sorry. Sometimes I wish I didn’t write such thrilling novels. It’s so unfair to you.

Please believe me when I say I’m going to try to change. We all know I won’t actually change, but it would be awfully nice of you to believe I might. One thing I am considering is moving away from such dark topics in my novels. (You were probably hoping I was going to stop that last sentence after “moving away.”) Call me crazy, but I think all the time I spend researching and writing about terminal disease and death and murder and sex trafficking might in some way be contributing to my ever-increasing unpleasantness. I was hoping my ever-increasing drinking might help with that. Not sure if it’s working.

As much as I love writing dark fiction, it’s not worth it if it means destroying our family. That’s why I’m currently toying around with a novel about a puppy and a baby unicorn who live under a magic rainbow. Trouble is, whenever I sit down to work on such a happy book, I’m overcome with the urge to throw myself off a tall building. And you don’t want that, right? Right? … RIGHT?

Okay, I need to wrap this up so I can get back to focusing on nothing but my writing. But before I do, Miranda and Leah, I need you to know the two of you mean the world to me. I’m so sorry if I’ve ever screamed anything from my office to make you think otherwise. You—along with my mother, father and brother (who make up the rest of my fan base and thus had to be mentioned)—are the most important non-imaginary people in my life. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing.

Except perhaps write a book about a puppy and a unicorn.

Love,

Greg/Dad 

 

If you’re a writer, feel free to use the comments section below to share the horrible things you regularly put YOUR family through. And if you’re the family member of a writer, now is the time to cry out for help … and to dish some dirt!     

One more thing: Sorry to self-promote so soon after an apology, but today’s the last day to get the Kindle edition of In Wolves’ Clothing for just 99 CENTS. (Amazon US and UK only.) Tomorrow I’m jacking up the price like I’m a pharmaceutical exec and the book’s a life-saving drug. You can download your ridiculously cheap copy of IWC HERE. 

What Writers Talk About with Other Writers(when nobody who might buy their books is around)

If you witness fiction writers interacting with one another on a panel or at a reading or in a bar, you might think the writing life is all fun and games and drinking booze. But ask the fly on the wall what these authors talk about when you and other potential fans aren’t around, and you’ll quickly learn that the writing life is mostly pain and frustration and futility. And drinking booze.

Now, I could continue this post with a list of funny hyperbolic examples of what fiction writers chat about when nobody who might buy their books is listening in, but it’s hard to be funny and hyperbolic when everything is so painful and frustrating and futile. And blurry. So instead, I’m going to share actual excerpts from an ongoing email exchange I’ve been having with a fellow novelist I met a while back. After all, it's always better to show than tell. Plus copying and pasting text from Gmail is a lot easier than coming up with brand new content.

NOTE: I’ve removed/replaced certain words or phrases that could possibly reveal the aforementioned novelist's identity. And no, it’s NOT Chuck Palahniuk. While I had the honor of meeting and “workshopping” with Chuck recently, he is one of those rare writers who’s immune to pain and frustration and futility, and thus is impossible to commiserate with.)

Without further ado, here are the email excerpts. (Warning: Some of the language could be considered offensive. I'm hoping that will keep you reading.)  

[From an exchange in Fall 2016]

Me: This whole writing thing must be what being addicted to heroin is like. Short, incredible highs followed by misery and hopelessness—and the inability to stop going after the short, incredible highs. Realizing it's killing you yet needing to do it all the time. And Amazon is like an evil drug dealer that keeps sucking you back in. He knows all it takes is a small score here and there to own you for life. So, how’s YOUR Monday going?

Author friend: I hear you. My week has sucked infected goat balls so far. On top of [title of the new manuscript] hitting the skids, the film [based on the previous book] opened not to a bang but a whimper. I didn't expect a lot of fanfare, but I'm pissed that the distributor isn't doing any more than the producers could have done themselves, and for that they changed the title, came up with a shitty poster and tagline. They've asked for my input. I'm trying to gather my thoughts and wait until I can provide them with something more polite than, “How 'bout at least putting the trailer on Apple's movie trailer site, geniuses?!” Okay, enough bitching from me. How’s Sick to Death doing?

Me: I'm sorry about your infected goat balls week. That a writer with your resume still has to deal with such letdowns speaks to the absolute absurdity and fickleness of the publishing world and Hollywood. As for Sick to Death, it shot out of the gate with great sales and rave reviews for the first two weeks, then, just as I was out shopping for what I was fantasizing I'd wear to the National Book Awards ceremony, sales plateaued ... and then dipped precipitously. The good news is I have some promising promo stuff happening over the next few weeks. The bad news is I'm spending much more time tracking sales of the new book than I am writing the next book. And it’s a shame because I’m pretty sure the next book is the best damn thing I’ve ever written. Of course, the next book always is. Anyway, I’m not proud of letting external validation boss me around. I should know better.

 

[From an exchange a couple of weeks later]

Author friend: The writing is flowing, with some starts and stops. Whenever I get jammed up, I look at each situation and brainstorm the next possible series of events according to established character behavior and previous plot details. Then I look at that list of possibilities and ask, “Which of these is the worst possible thing that could happen to my protagonist?” And that's the one I go with. As soon as I do that (and it ain't easy... I really like this character and feel like a total asshole for putting her in such ever-frothier waters of shit creek), I seem to always have some lightning bolt of insight that sustains me until I'm standing at the edge of the next “What the fuck now?" cliff.

Me: I hear ya on causing so much pain and distress for your protagonist. Here’s something I said about my current main character during a recent interview: “I've been very busy putting my new protagonist through hell, and he's been very busy doing the same to me.”

 

[From an exchange about a month after that]

Me: News. Now Showtime wants to option The Exit Man. I’ve been assured the deal will be finalized right after Thanksgiving. Of course, I was also assured Hillary was going to trounce Trump, so I’ve learned to be weary of what I’ve been assured. [Name of another cable network] may counter with a "screw the option—let's go straight to series" offer], but I’ve been advised to stick with Showtime regardless due to the huge potential. So yeah, I'm feeling almost not worthless right now. This feeling will soon pass, I'm sure, and I’ll be back to feeling completely worthless.

Author friend: That’s fantastic news. Options are awesome. Still, it’s annoying when people ask, "So when's there gonna be a movie?" As though that legitimizes a book. Few people realize just what a godsend option money is for a working writer. In some ways, it's an appealing idea to never have the movie/TV show made, and just have that annual infusion of cash keep coming in perpetuity. James Ellroy called the film/TV options "cosmic welfare checks." Sadly, my old (and corrupt) publisher took a goodly chunk of my option money (I had no agent at the time), but still, I did really well on film options for a long time.

Me: “Cosmic welfare checks.” Nice. I'm going to steal that. Or at least cite Ellroy.

Author friend: I guess that makes us cosmic white trash. : ) By the way, I’ll be fasting from social media and email for the home stretch of the latest manuscript. Next weekend, I'm loading up the truck with firewood and whiskey and will be spending the bulk of December in the desert doing the rewrite. Yee-ha.

Me: Awesome to hear you've finished the first draft of your latest manuscript, which is probably better than the seventh draft of most writers' latest manuscript. Firewood and whiskey? Make that the title. If you don’t, do I have permission to use it on my tombstone?

 

[From an exchange a couple of months ago]

Author friend: Things aren't looking good for [title of the new manuscript]. The editor's had it since April, but I've not heard anything. I sent an email to my agent and got an auto-reply that he's out until the 15th, so I'm gonna have to deal with the knot in my stomach and just wait. Honestly? I'm on the verge of giving up. I'm wrestling with manuscript #5, but even if I finish it tomorrow, I don't see how it stands a snowman's chance in hell of publication if my previous one had no takers. Congrats on wrapping up your latest. And bigger congrats on having it hit the shelves soon. I'll shout it from the rooftops when that happens.

Me: Hearing that someone with your talent, credentials and fan following is thinking of giving up writing leads me to assume that aliens have invaded your brain. At least I’m hoping that’s the case. If not, it means the literary world is crumbling, falling into ruin … and that I might as well stop writing novels and find a more promising job like tollbooth attendant or coal miner. Hang in there. Things are going to turn back around for you in a big way soon. Usually such optimism makes me retch, but in your case I can feel it in my bones. Now, before I go, let me just remind you of something you may have forgotten. YOU WROTE [TITLE OF NOVEL THAT HAS SUSTAINED CULT-LIKE STATUS FOR OVER A DECADE AND HAS INSPIRED COUNTLESS WRITERS OF DARK FICTION, INCLUDING ME]. Now go find someone to extract those pesky aliens from your frontal lobe and get back to work. Sir.

 

NOTE: I’m thrilled to report that my almost legendary author friend has NOT given up writing, and that he continues to produce astonishing prose that continues to make him miserable. Thank goodness.

Here’s hoping he regains the literary fame and commercial success he so deserves, but that he never loses his passion for bitching and ranting with me from a thousand miles away in the middle of the night. 

T Minus Zero: 'In Wolves' Clothing' Has Launched!

First I posted about all that went into making the book. Then I posted about all the people who helped me make it. Then I provided a sneak peak inside. Then I revealed the cover.

Enough already!

The teasing and blatant attempts to build pre-launch buzz are finally over. In Wolves’ Clothing is NOW AVAILABLE!

You’re probably so giddy with excitement and anticipation right now, you can’t think straight and don’t know what to do. Don’t worry, I’m here to help.

Follow the bullet-points below. They are taken from the official “What to Do in the Event of a Greg Levin Book Launch” guide:  

First, take a few deep breaths and try to relax. It’s just a book, for goodness sake. Next, click HERE to purchase a Kindle or paperback edition of the book on Amazon. (Or, if you are one of those weird people who needs to know a little more about a book before purchasing it, click HERE to read the description and a couple of excerpts, as well as some advance praise from early reviewers. And THEN go to Amazon to buy a copy.) Finally, share this post with everyone you know and don’t know on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, subway trains, commercial flights and grocery store lines.  

Oh, and just one more thing: THANK YOU … for putting up with all this, and for even considering my new novel. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pour champagne all over myself and the family/friends/pets I neglected while writing the book.

Peace, everyone!