Steven S. Drachman's Blog, page 5

Reminder - Watt O'Hugh Reading and a Few New Reviews

Friends -

Please remember to join me this coming Wednesday, May 21, at 7 pm, for the publication celebration and reading of the second Watt O'Hugh book, and the reissue of the first. It will be at the Community Bookstore, on 7th Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Hop on the F train and come join me.

A few happy reviews have come out pre-publication:

"Watt O'Hugh will stay with you long after you've turned the last page of Steven Drachman's joyful, hilarious and smart tale. Much like the dizzy feeling I have when I get off the spinning teacup ride at an amusement park, my head happily spun through time and place. Drachman, or maybe it was Watt O'Hugh, made me an instant fan."

– Nicolle Wallace (NY Times Best-Selling Author of Eighteen Acres, and ABC-TV analyst)


“An exciting and tumultuous tale … Watt evades fantastical monsters with the same self-reported aplomb he uses to confront demonic gunfighters, rob trains, and comfort distressed maidens (both living and otherwise). Four stars out of five!” — Clarion Reviews

“What’s unique about it is the blend of Western stuff with supernatural stuff. It blends so easily with a long-lost love subplot. Both books are quick-reading, page-turning pulpy adventures.” – Science Fiction Revolution

“By the end of the second novel, we have a revenge plot, a Chinese version of Hell, a quest, more historical personages, and some derring do. … These are both intriguing and entertaining novels … Not the kind of thing you find too often, and that in itself can be a virtue.” – Critical Mass

“Looking for something a little more…weird? … for more weirdness, check out the over-the-top pulpishness of Steven S. Drachman’s dime-store duology.” — John DeNardo, SF Signal

“[Q]uite poetic! …. The time travelling almost takes on ‘Doctor Who’ proportions. He meets up with Chinese from 2000 years ago and gets involved in complicated plots which could affect everything and everyone. Despite being up against lots of violence and villains, Lucy … is his main preoccupation, his oasis in the desert of time. When all is said and done, this book is a jolly good romp, pleasant to read and very entertaining. It’s being released with the second book in the series and there will probably be more in the future. … It’s a well-written book which certainly deserves some attention!” — SF CrowsNest

“Drachman’s exuberant novel is chock-full of fantastical elements; in addition to Watt’s time-roaming ability and spectral allies (often called “deadlings”), there are demons, oracles, dragons and assorted monstrosities…. Watt shines!” – Kirkus Reviews (on Watt O’Hugh Underground)

A Birthday Question/The Meaning of Life

I woke up this morning and I was 49 years old, entering my 50th year. So this person who lives in my home with me (who I'm not allowed to mention on Facebook) said "Are you freaked out about this?" So I wasn't really till she mentioned it. I like the 49 part ok but not the 50 part, but I'm still younger than Jackie Chan and always will be, and he's the spirit of youth, so I will be ever-young, thanks to Jackie Chan. But yet, I feel so wise.

Here's something that is perplexing me, and it didn't really start to bother me till last night at about 10 minutes before midnight, and I'm wondering if any of you are smart enough to figure this out. It involves statistics. (Andrew Evans?)

In 1830, in the South Bavarian Hamlet of Emmendingen, my great great grandfather Ephraim Weil, who was a moderately successful 20-year-old cattle trader, was trying to decide whether to marry Bessie Sonneborn or Barucha Heilbron. (Ephraim later had a synagogue named after him - Congregation Zichron Ephraim, which still exists in Manhattan.) He let his horse decide, and his horse chose Barucha. Had his horse chosen Bessie, I would not have been born. OK, 50-50 odds there, pretty good. Anyway, his son Jonas came to America and became a butcher, then a fantastically wealthy real estate developer, but he squandered - er, nobly gave away - all his money for good works. His son-in-law, a rabbi named Bernard Drachman (who was once accused by Arthur Conan Doyle of being a wizard), traveled back to Germany in 1882, where he fell madly in love with a woman named Jeanette Shemayah, "a true Oriental beauty of the finest type," with "skin of alabaster whiteness" and a "softly melodious [voice] like the gentle rippling of a fountain." But he was too timid to propose marriage and to bring her back to America. She was last heard from in 1941, when she was deported to Poland. Had he proposed, I would not have been born. 50-50 again. But beautiful Jeanette's life would have been spared.

Meanwhile, my goyishe great-great-great-great-great (maybe a few more) grandfather was born David Betts or Petts between 1780 and 1790 in the lace-making hamlet of Honiton in Devonshire, from whence he fled to the New World, a wanted fugitive, and finally remade himself before the War of 1812 as William Frederick Slocum, the captain of a merchant vessel, where he met and married Rachel James. Had he not been accused of committing whatever crime he was accused of committing, I would never have been born. Many years later, my mother fell in love with a nice young man, who went off to war and was shot dead. Had he not been killed, I would never have been born. But other children would have been, the children of the brave soldier. Finally, even when she met and fell in love with a Jew from Brooklyn and collapsed with him in a drunken, passionate stupor in the dumpster behind McSweeney’s that crazy night in 1964 (ok, I made up the part about the dumpster), and even assuming that a child would result from the interlude, the odds were at least 100 million to 1 that the child would turn out to be me. (Because - I looked this up - each ejaculation contains between 100 million and 400 million sperm. Sorry to be graphic.)

So considering all this, the odds against any one of us being born has to be trillions and trillions to one. Really impossible odds. Like winning the lottery once a week for your whole life. Has anyone tried to crack the numbers? My point here (and I do have one) is that I'm just not that lucky. I'm kind of lucky. But mostly unlucky. So isn't it just possible that there's something more to this whole existence thing? Anyway: I HOPE SO.

Happy birthday today to me, Charlie Chaplin, and Hitler.

Tor.com - Watt O'Hugh Sweepstakes!!!

The good folks at Tor.com are running a "Watt O'Hugh Sweepstakes." Good luck. If you feel so inclined, make a comment at the bottom. It will make me look popular. My friend Mark Matcho was interviewed about his cover art for the piece.

Mickey Rooney - RIP

In case anyone wants to read my thoughts on the death of Mickey Rooney, here they are.

I am heartbroken.

Publication Celebration - Real Life, not Virtual

And you're invited!

My WATT O'HUGH UNDERGROUND - READING AND PUBLICATION CELEBRATION is on May 21, 2014 in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Free wine and food at the Community Bookstore on 7th Avenue, and an afterparty. This is the famous bookstore from the Louis CK show, and also the famous author from the, um, Watt O'Hugh series, which briefly hit the bestseller lists one day in 2011. (I'll never forget that day!) Anyway, book 2 is finally here, many mysteries will be answered, many men will be shot dead, and you will believe a dragon can fly.

Check out the info about it here, and please RSVP that you are coming, even if you are not. (The more people who RSVP "yes," the cooler it will seem.)

Please also take a look at the cool new art for book 2, and check that you want to read it.

I am very excited about the new book, the publication party, and I look forward to seeing you there.

Chickadee Prince Books (and FaceBook)

Three quick pieces of news - first, it's my annual request that you please please like The Memoirs of Watt O'Hugh on FaceBook, here.

It has info on indie books, sci-fi Westerns, the Watt series and the general period during which the Watt books take place.

It will also talk about my new venture, Chickadee Prince Books, which is now not only the publishing house that puts out the Watt books, but is also a traveling bookstore, selling the most acclaimed and award-winning indie books (and only indie books). I hope to have it fully functional in time for the spring and summer outdoor fair season. I've got a great logo, by Garrett Gilchrist, so now I've got to do it, there's no turning back.

One thing the Facebook page will not have is cute pictures of my kids or cats. It's very on-topic.

Finally, the new Watt book, Watt O'Hugh Underground, and the reissued Ghosts of Watt O'Hugh, are both coming out on May 20 with great new covers by Mark Matcho. The covers will go on display at a gala event at Manhattan's Museum of Illustration on February 7, along with other book illustrations that the museum has judged the year's best. You can see the new covers and news about the exhibit and gala party on the FaceBook page. Come by if you can.

WATT O'HUGH OUT OF PRINT - FOR NOW

December 26, 2013.

The Ghost of Watt O’Hugh is now out of print and unavailable in any format.

But on May 20, my novel is being reissued by Chickadee Prince Books, along with Book 2 in the trilogy, Watt O'Hugh Underground, both with spanking new cover art. If you’d like more information on the re-release and on other info, like readings and giveaways, join the Watt mailing list (email steven@watt-ohugh.com or “like” the Memoirs of Watt O’Hugh on Facebook). The cover art will be done by the great Mark Matcho (you may have seen his work in many places, including all over town in every bookstore window on the cover of Carl Hiaasen’s Bad Monkey), all publicity is handled by Wunderkind PR, and David Groff was the editor.

It’ll really be coming soon, and thanks for your enthusiasm.

ON THE STRANGE DEATHS OF CORY MONTEITH, MISS KITTY, AND LORD BOWLER

September 18, 2013.


Cory Monteith has died, which means, ipso facto (as the Harvard boys say) that the character he plays, “Finn,” is also dead. For a while, it seemed that because Cory Monteith had died of a drug overdose, the same type of death would be Finn’s fate, although Finn was not a drug addict, and Monteith was. It was to be a teachable moment.

The plan has changed and Finn will not die of drugs, but he will still die. Why does the death of a TV actor necessarily means the death of his character? Could Finn not receive a terrific offer over the summer to sing and dance on a variety show in the Czech republic?

The death of a beloved TV actor who plays an unlikable TV character is even more awkward. While Phil Hartman, of Newsradio, was indeed beloved by the cast, his character was not equally beloved by his office co-workers – hence, you see, comedy ensued. Yet when the actor died, the character was eulogized with tears. It may be heartless to say, but when a disliked office colleague dies, a representative might be chosen to attend the funeral (or not), but life goes on without tears.

When Freddie Prinze died, his Chico and the Man character was away for a while (“I can’t wait till Chico gets back,” was uttered at least once), and then after a while we learned that his character had died, but not how. We lost Freddie Prinze; I am not sure why I could not have been allowed to believe that Chico, the character, was still alive somewhere, which would have been more in keeping with the show’s message of hope and redemption. Even today, more than 35 years later, I think that would still make me feel better. Why did Chico have to die too?

I wonder whether the death of an actor from a cancelled TV show means that the character, off in his fictitious universe, has also died. When Amanda Blake died of AIDS, years after Gunsmoke went off the air, did Miss Kitty die of syphilis? Is Lord Bowler still riding with Brisco, in spite of the death of the great Julius Carry, some years after the show went off the air? Happily, Horace Rumpole is still solving mysteries with his typical gusto in a series of novels, blithely unaware of Leo McKern’s infirmity and death.

These are things I think about ….

Is Self Publishing the Worst? Or is it REALLY GREAT?

Salon continues its ongoing debate on the future of publishing with its latest article, entitled Self Publishing is the Worst, which you can read
here. This follows a piece arguing that, well, Indie publishing is really horrible, which followed a piece arguing that Indie published books literally SELL THEMSELVES!

The author of the most recent piece suffers because he expects an indie publishing experience to be the same as a traditional publishing experience (except without the pesky rejection slips), when, of course, it's not. Any book published by Random House (for example) has a certain floor of library sales and media publicity, while an indie published writer has to struggle for everything. While his complaints ring a LITTLE hollow (his sales rank on Amazon is actually pretty good), he has correctly discovered that competing against the million other indie books that are published each year can indeed be not-exactly-always-easy.

Anyway, it's worth reading for anyone who may be lulled into thinking that the indie publishing model is a guarantee of riches and fame.

A FIRST INTERVIEW with LEONARDO DICAPRIO

April 28, 2013.

Almost exactly twenty years ago, while writing a feature article about the film version of This Boy's Life, I interviewed a young actor in his first film, whose improbable name was "Leonardo DiCaprio."

The interview was cut from the article at the time, but with DiCaprio's latest film arriving on 3D screens in ten days, and with DiCaprio recently having announced his indefinite retirement from film acting, I thought now might be a good time for a fresh look at his previously unpublished (possibly) first major interview ever.

You can read it here.