Thomas Pluck's Blog, page 34

Free this Week: Devils & Dragons, and a raffle

Part 2 of Blade of Dishonor, Devils and Dragons, continues the story that exploded in Part 1, The War Comes Home. Butch battles ninjas and Nazis while Reeves and Tara race across the heartland in pursuit of the stolen sword!

It is FREE this week on Kindle, in honor of Veteran’s Day. It is free in all countries where Kindle is sold, and the link should take you to the proper site.

Also, if you want a chance at winning the entire trilogy in the Omnibus edition for Kindle or in trade paperback, drop by Laura K. Curtis’s blog! Laura is the author of TWISTED:

Lucy Sadler Caldwell is a successful true-crime writer. But the one story she’s never been able to come to terms with is the murder of her own mother–until now. She’s returned to Dobbs Hollow, Texas, the hometown she fled seventeen years ago, to finally expose the real killer.

After a bullet took out his knee in Houston, Detective Ethan Donovan found himself without a lot of options, which is how he ended up as Chief of Police in Dobbs Hollow. Lucy sure isn’t asking for his help–she’s not big on trust–but he can’t help feeling a strong desire to come to her aid.

And though Lucy is armed to the teeth, she will need all the help she can get. When she starts digging into the past, she unearths a psychotic killer who will stop at nothing to silence her forever…

Tagged: Blade of Dishonor, Freebies, Giveaways, Laura K. Curtis, Veteran's Day

Remember the Cost.

Remembrance Day. Armistice Day. Veteran’s Day. Whatever you call it, take time today to think about those who serve and have served, and pledge to never waste their efforts for anything but causes worth the blood, limbs, and lives that war costs. Help a vet or donate to an organization who will.

Tagged: death, Veteran's Day, war

McBain! Schande-nicht-lesen? Comment for Typhoon Relief

I love those German portmanteau words where they just mush a bunch of words together to make a new word, like schadenfreude or arschgesicht. I made a new one: Schandenichtlesen, which means shame-not-read, that shame you have for not having read a good book.

To my great shame as a fan of crime fiction, I have never read any of Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct novels, despite their reputation for rich characters, a gripping storyline over dozens of books, and for defining the New York police procedural.

When Erin Mitchell heard this, she rushed to my rescue, staunching the gaping wound of my ignorance. She was giving away copies of her dupes, and I waved my hand and told her my predicament. Instead of sending me the books she was giving away, she bought me two new copies of Calypso and Hail, Hail, the Gang’s All Here.

That’s one of the many things I love about the crime fiction community. The people love books so much they’ll give them to you. And very likely, someone gave some to them earlier on. We pay it back and forward, sideways and around the corner.

Thank you, Erin!

What authors have you shamefully not read? Name the book you’re avoiding, even though you know you will love it.

For every comment I will donate $1 to the Philippines Red Cross, to assist in recovery from the typhoon. And I will choose one lucky commenter and buy them the book they have been shamefully avoiding.

Tagged: charity, Ed McBain, Erin Mitchell, Red Cross

Blood & Tacos!

 

Blood & Tacos: The Beginning is now available! The print-only omnibus that collects the hard-fisted, pistol-packing fiction stories from the first four issues of Blood & Tacos, including BROWN SUGAR BROOKDALE #17: TITTY TITTY BANG BANG by Jerrold Olden Earnest, which I discovered in a hidden dojo beneath the Baxter Terrace projects in Newark.

Brown Sugar is a Vietnam Vet who learned the mystic arts of Kung Fu at the Shaolin Temple after fragging his lieutenant before he could napalm an innocent village. Now he’s back in the States, ready to break his foot off in the ass of the Man!

A loving homage to Enter the Dragon, Kill and Kill Again, Black Samurai, Cleopatra Jones, and the films of Fred Williamson, “Brown Sugar Brookdale” is just one of many stories from the thrilling to the hilarious, in this collection. For the record, I can’t even say L.A.N.D.B.O.A.T.: The Boat That Goes On Land without laughing, and Chingón: The World’s Deadliest Mexican always brings down the house when Johnny reads it at signings. If you like Machete, you must meet The Explosionist, Father Dukes, the Irish street priest, and Sunshine: Stripper Assassin by Josh Stallings.

Johnny Shaw has limited signed copies available. Writing for Blood & Tacos is always a blast, and this collection is about to go supernova in the spiral arm of your brain galaxy. Get some.

 

 

Tagged: Blood and Tacos, Brown Sugar Brookdale, Johnny Shaw, Josh Stallings

Welcome to the Asylum

About eight years ago, after I quit video games and lost 135 pounds (or about one Sofia Vergara) by dieting, hiking, and weightlifting, my buddy Peter decided to quit his I.T. job and go to Japan to teach English to schoolchildren and train to fight in mixed martial arts.

Before he flew out, he explored local dojos for a realistic, no-BS approach. He had trained in karate since high school, and then in the backyard of a mutual friend who taught variations of Kali, Pencak Silat, and “whatever works fu.” I’d gone a couple times but I am a very slow learner when it comes to physical activities, and needed a little more structure. Peter found Advanced Fighting Systems, run by Phil Dunlap. At the time, Phil was building a fight cage on his house’s first floor, and transitioning to training fighters full time. But we met at a class at Malandra’s martial arts in Suffern, where Phil taught a few days a week. I had seen Peter come home from class with bruised shins and a big smile. This wasn’t katas. It wasn’t like the Krav Maga class I tried, where the teacher was fatter than me, made us pay him to make us do push-ups and jog in circles, and never spar. No, this was something different.

The first thing Phil asked me to do was punch him in the face. I mimicked the karate punches I’d learned, six inches from his face. Phil gave a classic eye roll and said, “Would that have hit me?”

I threw a punch that would have struck 3 inches past the base of his skull. He parried it, slow enough to show me the move. We hit focus mitts, but when it came time to learn roundhouse kicks (which strike with the shin) we put on thin pads and kicked each other in the thighs. I came home with the bruises Peter had. We knew they worked when we winced and fought the urge to complain. When it came time to learn submissions and chokes, Phil performed them on a student so you could follow, then on you, so you could feel it. And if you’re not doing it right, he lets you perform it on him, until you make him tap. I’d never been at a dojo where the teacher allowed that.

I was sold.

Nowadays there are a lot of MMA dojos, some of them converted karate factories, some hardcore fighting gyms, but I’ve found none as casual, cool, and friendly as the ironically named Asylum Fight Gym. One of the students came up with it. The class is addictive, because there’s so little ego there. If you want to spar or grapple (we say “roll”) with the teacher, you can. It was a badge of honor, to wait in line at the end of class to have your rounds with Phil. Because like the best teachers, he transformed his style for each student. He was that guy who was just a little better than you, a little faster, smarter, and yes even stronger, whether you can out-bench him or not. It’s incredibly frustrating at first, until you concede that you will never win. It becomes a challenge to make Phil whip out one of his better moves to finish you. And if you do the move right, he lets you do it… until the counter moves come in.

The gym is a family, no less dysfunctional or nurturing than any other. Want to train on Christmas Eve? Come on in. We call it “Season’s Beatings.” We take care of each other, go to each other’s fights, help each other out. And then we jump in the cage to punch each other in the face, or relish locking down the scorpion leg lock until you tap. I’ve made a lot of friends there. Derek, Jodi-Lynn, the many Kyles (we have young Kyle, li’l Kyle, medium Kyle, and big Kyle) and of course, Phil himself.

If you live anywhere near Mahwah, New Jersey and want a gym to learn mixed martial arts for sport or self-defense, Burmese boxing and grappling (Kachin Bando), Sambo, Celtic wrestling, or fitness kickboxing, drop in to Asylum Fight Gym to train as hard as you want to.

And if you can’t make it, do me a favor and vote for the gym in Mission Main Street Grants. The gym could use a boost!

 

Tagged: Asylum Fight Gym, Mixed Martial Arts, MMA, Peter Dell'Orto, Phil Dunlap

A Surprise at the Book Signing

I had my first book signing this weekend, at Watchung Booksellers in Montclair. If you missed the event, they still have signed copies available at the store and online.

The store was packed, standing room only. I was stunned at the crowd. Friends I hadn’t seen in years, cousins and aunts and uncles, friends from Asylum Fight Gym, fellow writers, friends from Twitter, and two surprise guests:

My great-uncles Dominic and Jimmy, to whom I dedicated Blade of Dishonor! I teared up as I told the crowd how they influenced me as a young man, and how their experiences helped shape the story. To give you an idea, we call Uncle Dominic “Butch,” even if he’s as far from the Butch in the novel as can be. The hard-working spirit of the men who lived through the Depression, fought Hitler, and supported their friends and families for decades is what went into the book.

It is an honor to know these men, and it was a greater honor to have them visit me on this very special day. Jimmy’s son told me they started getting together every Friday after Jimmy’s nurse visit. And I’ll be there.

Tagged: Blade of Dishonor, Family, Watchung Booksellers, World War 2

Interview in The Montclair Times

I was interviewed for The Montclair Times about Blade of Dishonor, as a local author. Journalist Kelly Ebbels met me at the historic Tierney’s Tavern for a beer and to chat pulp fiction.

Pluck Pens Pulp Fiction Warriors

And don’t forget, I will be reading from Blade of Dishonor at Watchung Booksellers tomorrow, Sunday November 3rd at 4pm.

And don’t forget to turn your clock back an hour tomorrow morning. The bookstore closes at 5.

 

Tagged: Interviews

Reading and Signing at Watchung Booksellers 11/3

This Sunday I will be reading from BLADE OF DISHONOR and signing copies at Watchung Booksellers in Montclair at 4pm. There will be sake, snacks, and wine, and I’d love for you to drop in for a chat. It’s a great bookstore, and we’re going to have a lot of fun talking samurai, ninja, and possibly demonstrating MMA moves in the suspense section…

I will also have copies of Protectors: Stories to Benefit PROTECT, with Dave White’s story “Runaway,” which was listed as a distinguished mystery of 2012 in this year’s Best American Mystery Stories.

Sunday November 3rd, 4pm to 5pm

Watchung Booksellers

54 Fairfield Street (Watchung Plaza)

Montclair NJ

973-744-7177

The Two Heroes to Whom I Dedicated Blade of Dishonor

They are two of my heroes, but I never knew them. Not really. Pictured above are my uncle Jimmy (left) and my uncle Butch (right) before they shipped off to serve in World War II.

I knew them much later, in their fifties. Sitting at my grandmother’s kitchen table while they drank black coffee and tore apart doughnuts and crumb cake, and solved the problems of the world. I dedicated my first novel, Blade of Dishonor, to these men.

“Another week shot in the ass,” Butchie is fond of saying. He’s the joker, with a hundred stories up his sleeve. After a mini-stroke, he forgot them all. “I lost the comedy channel,” he said. But they came back, one by one. Uncle Jimmy plays the straight man, but occasionally comes out with a biting comment that makes us all laugh.

Jimmy served in Bastogne. “Patton’s tanks saved our behinds.” His feet still ache from the frostbite he received. He put his boots in the campfire, but it wasn’t enough. He was 35 when he was drafted, with a wife and son at home. For funerals of soldiers, Uncle Butch wears his medals and uniform. He also served in Europe, and if I recall, was en route to the Pacific when the bombs dropped.  That’s all I know, because they don’t talk about the war.

Uncle Butch once admitted that he regrets combat. He saw it as young men sent to war to fight someone else’s battles, killing each other for nothing. You fought for the guy next to you. Uncle Jimmy was more pragmatic. It was just something he did, trying to get home.

Yet I saw how it affected them. Around Veteran’s Day, VJ Day, VE Day. The tears of otherwise stoic old men rock us to our core.

After the war, Butch worked for a builder of construction equipment and collected old cars. He has a Model A with a rumble seat that was used in a Ford commercial, a Chrysler 300H, and until recently boated around town in a white Town Car three blocks long. Uncle Jimmy was a roofer, then bought a service station. When they retired, they joined up to do plumbing and roofing on the side. Uncle Butch will still stop at the curb if he sees a discarded lawnmower, take it home and repair it while watching television, and offer it up when yours breaks down. They kept busy into their nineties. They survived both their wives, caring for them when they became sick.

They grew up in the Depression, in a big Italian family. Living on fried potato sandwiches wrapped in newspaper, so you could read the headlines off your hoagie roll. Foraging in the woods when they were hungry. Uncle Jimmy became a hunter, with a cabin festooned with deer antlers. He hunted with a scope (and friends to point him at the deer!) after his eyesight failed, and I had a freezer full of venison–he called it “goat”–every season.

Uncle Butchie still goes out dancing, at 92. Uncle Jimmy’s cancer put him in the VA hospital. But his son takes him around, to check on the house, to visit family, and at 94, the disease moves so slowly that it hasn’t kept him down. They taught me that a sense of humor, a good heart, and a helping hand for your family and friends will keep you living well no matter what life throws at you. Tragedy, artillery, failure or success. They stuck together, and they’ve survived their wives, brothers, sisters, young and old.

And they’re still doing it.

Tagged: Blade of Dishonor, Family, World War 2

RIP, Lou Reed.

I don’t know enough about Lou Reed as a person to mourn his passing, but his contribution to rock music is undeniable. Other than “Take a Walk on the Wild Side,” during my senior year in high school he released the concept album “New York,” which I bought after hearing the catchy single “Dirty Blvd.” It’s an excellent picture of New York in the ’80s. Here is the entire album.

You can also buy it here:

Lou Reed New York

Tagged: death, Lou Reed