Jonathan Janz's Blog, page 20

SAVAGE SPECIES Named One of the Year’s Top Three Horror Novels!

If you’ve spent any time around the horror genre, you’ve heard of Mark Justice. Author, reviewer, and mastermind of the wonderful Pod of Horror podcast, Mark is an integral member of the horror community and a man whose opinion I value highly.

So it was with great joy that I read today his list of the three best horror novels of 2013. His top choice was Stephen King’s JOYLAND, a book that’s been included on too many top ten lists to name. Coming in at number two was none other than Bentley Little, whose Cemetery Dance novel THE INFLUENCE has also garnered a great deal of praise. And Mark’s number three?

My own SAVAGE SPECIES.

Experience the Terror

Of my fourth Samhain novel, which was originally serialized back in June, Mark writes, “With Savage Species, we have Janz’s best novel to date. This time out, Janz seems to be channeling horror master Richard Laymon, both in Laymon’s penchant for creating monsters that exist just beyond the borders of our safe suburban lives and in the confident way Laymon frequently layered in a good dose of humor. Janz’s characters are fully realized in a way that the population of most horror novels are not, and by establishing their personalities, complete with flaws, Janz allows us to know them and to care for them. Thus, when bad things happen, we are fully invested in the fate of his characters.” He goes on to say, “Of all the up-and-coming horror writers out there, Jonathan Janz is the one to keep an eye on.”

Which, considering how many awesome new writers are emerging in our about-to-explode genre, is high praise indeed. You can read the entire wonderful, humbling article right here. Incidentally, Mark states that if his list went to five, his fourth-best novel of 2013 would be Stephen King’s DOCTOR SLEEP, and his number five pick would be Joe Hill’s NOS4A2.

You can purchase your ebook or paperback copy of SAVAGE SPECIES here, here, here, or anywhere else books are sold. And within the week, the entire audiobook version will be available as well.

The Master

My kids and I are about to have a dance party now. Apologies if my post sounded self-congratulatory. I’m just excited, that’s all. And if you want to see something really scary…you should see what an awful dancer I am. Currently, my kids are too young to realize how dorkily their daddy dances. Someday, however, they’ll know. And they’ll shudder at the horror of my dance moves.

*Cue Kenny Loggins’s “Footloose”*

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“Everybody cut, EVERYBODY CUT!”

 

 

 

 

 

The DUST DEVILS Ride in Three Weeks! (and a Rant about My Wife and Breaking Bad)

Hey, all! I’m about to go downstairs to scowl at my wife. While doing the laundry, she watched the first episode of Breaking Bad without me. It’s bad enough that I’m one of nineteen Americans who hasn’t yet watched the series…but the fact that she began a television show that she knew I’d love without me? That’s darn near unforgivable. I think the only suitable punishment—other than having to re-watch the pilot episode with her husband—is a compulsory visit to a local meth lab. I won’t make her stay long, of course, but she will be required to bring back some artifact that proves she completed the task. An empty Sudafed bottle maybe. Or a clump of fallen hair.

Anyway, something very exciting is coming in three weeks. It’s my newest novel. My first western. My first historical horror novel. And my first true foray into the world of vampires:

DUST DEVILS (for only $3.85!)

The Devils Are Coming

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s the description:

Beware when the vampires come to town!

When traveling actors recruited his wife for a plum role, Cody Wilson had no idea they would murder her. Twelve-year-old Willet Black was just as devastated the night the fiends slaughtered everyone he loved. Now Cody and Willet are bent on revenge, but neither of them suspects what they’re really up against.

For the actors are vampires. Their thirst for human blood is insatiable. Even if word of their atrocities were to spread, it would take an army to oppose them. But it is 1885 in the wilds of New Mexico, and there is no help for Cody and Willet. The two must battle the vampires—alone—or die trying.

Not only are the time period, the genre, and the subject matter new territory for me, there are several other differences as well. This is the first time I’ve penned a novel entirely in one character’s perspective (for a similar point-of-view vibe, check out my novella OLD ORDER—though the POV characters in the two tales couldn’t be more different). It’s also the first time I’ve set a story in the American Southwest. Rather than Gothic castles or dense Midwestern forests, this tale plumbs the terror of the lonesome plains and the drunken belligerence charging the air inside a notorious saloon. DUST DEVILS is a novel I’m extremely proud of, and one I hope all of you will read. More on it soon, but in the meantime you can pre-order it here, here, here, or anywhere else books are sold. It’s available in ebook and paperback formats, and eventually it will become an audiobook too.

Thanks for your time, folks, and have a fabulous Saturday night. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get my scowl ready.

*Looks in the mirror and channels Walter White*

Some Things You Might Not Know That I Love: Part Three

Jaws

Ramsey Campbell

Pizza

Dogwood trees

The Chosen

Cubs baseball

Metallica

(500) Days of Summer

FOUR Chilling Reads for a Snowy Night

Unoriginal post title, I know, but hey, I’ve got a lot of things going at the moment and didn’t feel like thinking up anything witty. So without further preamble, here you go—three FOUR stories to read over the next month whenever you find yourself snowed in…

1. Tim Lebbon’s WHITE

One of the best novellas I’ve ever read (Lebbon’s actually written two of my favorite novellas, the other one an amazing story called NAMING OF PARTS), WHITE is the kind of story that’s so good it makes other authors jealous. And terrified. And very, very cold in the best possible way. I wrote the following blog post about WHITE already, in case you’re not yet convinced you should read it.

2. Dan Simmons’s THE TERROR

This one might take you awhile, but I assure you the time investment is worth it. It’s epic in every sense of the word. If I were creating a list of top ten reads of the new millennium, this one would make the cut. Easily.

3. Brian Moreland’s DEAD OF WINTER

Brian is a friend and a fellow Samhain writer. He also happens to be a masterful storyteller. DEAD OF WINTER is dark, textured, and impeccably researched. Check it out and get lost in Moreland’s eerie story.

*NOTE: I’m an idiot and forgot an obvious but awesome book, which stretched this list to…

4. Ron Malfi’s SNOW

I forgot this one because I read it a good while back, but it absolutely deserves to be mentioned among the above company. Malfi is extremely versatile, and this book feels very different from his others. But there is one common denominator, however—it’s excellent. Check out SNOW for a deliciously bloodchilling yarn.

So there you have it. Have a good night, friends. And stay cozy.

Three Chilling Reads for a Snowy Night

Unoriginal post title, I know, but hey, I’ve got a lot of things going at the moment and didn’t feel like thinking up anything witty. So without further preamble, here you go—three stories to read over the next month whenever you find yourself snowed in…

1. Tim Lebbon’s WHITE

One of the best novellas I’ve ever read (Lebbon’s actually written two of my favorite novellas, the other one an amazing story called NAMING OF PARTS), WHITE is the kind of story that’s so good it makes other authors jealous. And terrified. And very, very cold in the best possible way. I wrote the following blog post about WHITE already, in case you’re not yet convinced you should read it.

2. Dan Simmons’s THE TERROR

This one might take you awhile, but I assure you the time investment is worth it. It’s epic in every sense of the word. If I were creating a list of top ten reads of the new millennium, this one would make the cut. Easily.

3. Brian Moreland’s DEAD OF WINTER

Brian is a friend and a fellow Samhain writer. He also happens to be a masterful storyteller. DEAD OF WINTER is dark, textured, and impeccably researched. Check it out and get lost in Moreland’s eerie story.

So there you have it. Have a good night, friends. And stay cozy.

The Storm before the Storm (with Writing Updates)

Hey friends. We’re in a blizzard here at the Janz Ranch. No one’s vomited for a good while now, so hopefully we can enjoy the white-out in peace.

A few updates:

1. I wrote a novella over Winter Break. It’s something I can’t announce yet, but boy, am I pumped about it. Sometimes you hear about stories writing themselves? Yeah, I get tired of hearing that too. But this one did. And there are some amazing things about the way this novella…no, can’t let it out yet. But soon, friends. Very soon.

The Devils Are Coming

2. DUST DEVILS launches in a month. It’s my first western and my first outright vampire story. And I love it. And I can’t wait for you to read it. It’s brisk (my shortest novel to date), fearsome (including some shocking bursts of violence), but also very heartfelt (with at least three relationships I’m really proud of). It’s one of my favorites among my own work.

3. SAVAGE SPECIES, the audiobook version, is almost ready. I can’t wait for you to hear Randy Hames’s interpretation. A perfect voice for this story.

Listen to the terror…

4. Downton Abbey begins in America tonight. And I will rejoice. If the writers do anything cruel to the British Job Mr. Bates this season, I might have to book a transatlantic flight to have a talk with them. Bates and Anna deserve some time together. Some children. Maybe take in a show or two.

That’s all for now. If I get time today or tomorrow I’ll post some snowy reading recommendations.

For now, I’ve got some serious editing to do. And maybe a little writing.

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“At least we’ll get to spend the next thirty seconds together in peace and happiness–that’s more than we’ve had in three seasons!”

Vomit Is an Opportunity

*Disclaimer: I haven’t gotten sick yet. My kids have. If it catches up to me, my outlook won’t be as rosy, at least not while I’m sick. Lest I sound too Pollyannish for you, I wanted to make that part perfectly clear.

 

Nobody likes vomit. At least, no one likes it and admits it. There are probably some creepy chat rooms on the internet somewhere where people talk about exchanging unorthodox bodily fluids, but frankly, I’d rather not know about those. The chat rooms or the fluids. Especially the fluids.

So when my kids get sick—which isn’t particularly often; at least, we don’t get sick more than the average family of five—I remind myself that here is a chance to show my barfing urchins how much I love them. I’ve been blessed with a fairly strong constitution. During college I was the designated clean-up guy. As long as I liked you, I’d make sure you didn’t sleep with pink chunks of regurgitated Chinese food in your hair.

My Son’s Room at Five A.M.

 

So if I can do that for foolhardy acquaintances, I can certainly do it for the people I love more than anyone in the world, right?

I think of how awful I feel when I upchuck. I’m sure women who’ve been through labor are standing there, arms akimbo, tapping a foot and watching me with an arched eyebrow, so let me concede now that labor, I’m sure, is a billion times worse than anything we men will ever feel. But for a guy, puking is pretty nearly the worst thing we can experience. Of course, there are kidney stones and other horrors, but in our everyday lives…yep, you get the point.

So remembering how awful I feel when I get sick (Am I a moron for still wanting my mommy when I get ill?), I try not to focus on the mess, the clean-up, all the accoutrement of a Vesuvian food refund, and I instead remember how comforting it is to have a soothing presence nearby, how nice it is for someone to delude you into believing that it will soon be over, even though there’s every chance you’ll be dry-heaving for the next sixteen hours. That sort of delusion-creation is a form of love, you know? Pure, soothing, dishonest love. And kids need it more than anyone.

I guess it comes down to trying to turn a negative into a positive, which is something I don’t always succeed in doing but strive to do nevertheless.

My Middle Daughter’s Room at Six A.M.

In case you’re wondering, yep, my oldest and second-oldest went Linda Blair last night. They’re still sick. I better go now. My daughter needs me to hold her hair while she loses her gorge; my son just needs me to bring him water, a damp washcloth, and an ice sculpture of Hermione Granger (yeah, he can be a little demanding when he’s sick, but he’s too great a boy for me to begrudge him that).

Have a good night, friends. May your gorges remain under your control.

Measure Never, Cut Once (or The Beast under the Tree)

Sometimes I use this blog for therapy. This is one of those times.

You’d think that wrapping presents for my kids would be a sedate, enjoyable experience. And for my wife, it was. She’s expert at all things crafty, and has apparently been wrapping presents professionally since infancy. At least, this was my assumption based on the deftness with which she whipped out perfectly wrapped items of such symmetry and beauty that I fancied I’d stepped into a Currier & Ives painting. She did her wrapping on the bed, by the way, while I muddled along on the floor. Kind of like a cut-rate gift-wrapping sweatshop.

But I was doing reasonably well, I really was. Until I got to an item my wife had purchased for my two-year-old daughter.

Enter FurReal Friends Daisy Cat.

Also known as the Feline Spawn of Satan.

The Beast

The first problem was the size of the box. It was wide and deep at the bottom and tapered to a point at the top. Now, you might just say, “Hey, Jonathan—that’s called a triangle. What’s the big deal?” Well, let me tell you, Imaginary Peanut Gallery Heckler Jerkwad, it wasn’t at all a perfect triangle. Because there were paws sticking out. That’s right! Near the top, where you’d think you could wrap things into a neat pyramidal point, there were big, fuzzy, eerily realistic paws with unnervingly pink pads staring at me. Taunting me. Presaging for me the horrors that were to come.

So yeah, I erred in the amount of paper I needed. No problem, I figured. Just use another piece of paper, match the stripes, and it’ll look halfway decent. Or as presentable as the other stuff I wrapped (I swear that wasn’t a pun!).

And it looked halfway decent (if “halfway decent” means a nightmarish snarl of lines and creases and holes). Truthfully, it looked like a Brothers Grimm witch interpreted by a German Expressionist filmmaker in the grip of a sinister LSD hallucination. But hey, it was wrapped, right?

Suuuuure, it was wrapped. It was wrapped until the freaking cat came to life like some monster I’d just entombed!

The Deceiver in Its Lair

It began by meowing. Like the doomed protagonist of a Poe tale, I stared at the package in horror. Then it actually began pawing at the paper enshrouding it. My mouth dry, I started to back away. Then—and I wish I were making this up—the infernal beast thrust against the paper hard enough to rip the tape open.

I quivered. I grew pale.

Within moments, the cat’s sinister visage was glaring at me from its nest of torn paper. It meowed in accusation. And the paws…the paws! I shall never forget the sight of those hideous paws!

And the worst of it is, this hellish fiend was cast off by my two-year-old daughter. It was as though some finely tuned sense of good and evil in her alerted my daughter to the true nature of the beast under the tree.

And now, the fell feline awaits me somewhere in the house. If I awake tonight with the beast tearing my flesh to ribbons, let this be my final testament. Please protect my wife and children from the creature’s wrath. Let my sacrifice not have been in vain.

With a trembling heart, I descend the stairs to the beast’s lair. Wish me Godspeed…

Haunted

The Beast under the Tree

Sometimes I use this blog for therapy. This is one of those times.

You’d think that wrapping presents for my kids would be a sedate, enjoyable experience. And for my wife, it was. She’s expert at all things crafty, and has apparently been wrapping presents professionally since infancy. At least, this was my assumption based on the deftness with which she whipped out perfectly wrapped items of such symmetry and beauty that I fancied I’d stepped into a Currier & Ives painting. She did her wrapping on the bed, by the way, while I muddled along on the floor. Kind of like a cut-rate gift-wrapping sweatshop.

But I was doing reasonably well, I really was. Until I got to an item my wife had purchased for my two-year-old daughter.

Enter FurReal Friends Daisy Cat.

Also known as the Feline Spawn of Satan.

The Beast

The first problem was the size of the box. It was wide and deep at the bottom and tapered to a point at the top. Now, you might just say, “Hey, Jonathan—that’s called a triangle. What’s the big deal?” Well, let me tell you, Imaginary Peanut Gallery Heckler Jerkwad, it wasn’t at all a perfect triangle. Because there were paws sticking out. That’s right! Near the top, where you’d think you could wrap things into a neat pyramidal point, there were big, fuzzy, eerily realistic paws with unnervingly pink pads staring at me. Taunting me. Presaging for me the horrors that were to come.

So yeah, I erred in the amount of paper I needed. No problem, I figured. Just use another piece of paper, match the stripes, and it’ll look halfway decent. Or as presentable as the other stuff I wrapped (I swear that wasn’t a pun!).

And it looked halfway decent (if “halfway decent” means a nightmarish snarl of lines and creases and holes). Truthfully, it looked like a Brothers Grimm witch interpreted by a German Expressionist filmmaker in the grip of a sinister LSD hallucination. But hey, it was wrapped, right?

Suuuuure, it was wrapped. It was wrapped until the freaking cat came to life like some monster I’d just entombed!

The Deceiver in Its Lair

It began by meowing. Like the doomed protagonist of a Poe tale, I stared at the package in horror. Then it actually began pawing at the paper enshrouding it. My mouth dry, I started to back away. Then—and I wish I were making this up—the infernal beast thrust against the paper hard enough to rip the tape open.

I quivered. I grew pale.

Within moments, the cat’s sinister visage was glaring at me from its nest of torn paper. It meowed in accusation. And the paws…the paws! I shall never forget the sight of those hideous paws!

And the worst of it is, this hellish fiend was cast off by my two-year-old daughter. It was as though some finely tuned sense of good and evil in her alerted my daughter to the true nature of the beast under the tree.

And now, the fell feline awaits me somewhere in the house. If I awake tonight with the beast tearing my flesh to ribbons, let this be my final testament. Please protect my wife and children from the creature’s wrath. Let my sacrifice not have been in vain.

With a trembling heart, I descend the stairs to the beast’s lair. Wish me Godspeed…

Haunted

Merry Christmas

Hey, All! I don’t want to break away from my family for too long, but I did want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, or if that’s not your thing, Happy Holidays or Good Wishes or whatever else properly conveys the fact that I respect your beliefs and want you to experience nothing but happiness and safety and peace and good health. Thanks for visiting my blog. Let us all appreciate all we have and be good to one another.

Love is the most powerful force in the world. And the luminescence of Clark Griswold’s Christmas lights.