Brian Keene's Blog, page 171

Quoted For Truth

My The Damned Highway collaborator, Nick Mamatas, on the sordid history of Shocklines: "Indeed, at one point the only way to be sure of not having one's thread locked, comments removed, or account terminated was to present with symptoms of untreated paranoid schizophrenia. Normal commentary, pointed arguments, and even innocuous posts were often simply erased."

If you enjoy crime fiction, please check out the debut of Nick's The Big Click.

MARCH MADNESS

My name is Brian Keene. I write for money. Over the next 31 days, I have to be a father, finish a novel called The Lost Level, travel to New York City with J.F. Gonzalez for two days on business, finish a television pilot pitch, begin work on a collaboration with Mary SanGiovanni, finish up Maelstrom Set 3, set up a new physical bookstore location at The York Emporium, and possibly write a prequel to Ghoul. All within a month. (And yes, I'm aware that I just teased the hell out of you people).

As a result, things will be slower than normal around here. Oh, The Cage and Dark Hollow will be released (in fact, The Cage should be out any day now), and issue #2 of The Last Zombie: Neverland will hit stores, and I expect some Dorchester news might break, and my The Damned Highway collaborator Nick Mamatas has a new book called Bullettime coming out that I'll want to tell you about, and Clickers vs. Zombies will sell out since there are like 15 copies left, and there will be news on that physical bookstore I mentioned above, but other than that, I expect slowage due to an accelerated work schedule.

In the meantime, in case you missed them, here is a tentative 2012 release schedule. Here is a list of my signings and appearances for 2012. Here's the trailer for Ghoul, which debuts on Chiller at 9pm on Friday, April 13th. You can buy my books here. You can buy my comic books here. If you need something, it's always best to contact me via Twitter or my message board. Email, Facebook, etc. take me longer to respond to. Before you ask, you might peruse this list of Frequently Asked Questions. Thank you.

How To Get On My Shit List (#652 in an ongoing series)

See? Here I am at Sundance, answering someone's email, rather than handing my phone to Mary (who is sitting next to me).

A few days ago, I posted my weekly work schedule. If you've read it, then you understand why I don't answer every email or Tweet that I receive (although I do my best).

Now, read these Frequently Asked Questions, which include all of the ways to contact me. NOWHERE does it say that asking Mary SanGiovanni to forward your request to me is acceptable. It's not. Mary is my girlfriend and my best friend, not my secretary.

So, if I didn't respond to your interview request, blurb request, or offer to join your new literary agency, then I'm either not interested or too busy at this time. Disrespecting Mary by asking her to intercede on your behalf will only piss me off.

CLICKERS VS. ZOMBIES: Spoiler Free Excerpt

What follows is a free short excerpt from Clickers vs. Zombies. While this scene does include the death of two secondary characters, I have changed their names in this excerpt so that you can avoid spoilers for the book. There are less than 20 copies of Clickers vs. Zombies left. Click here to reserve your copy. And here is the free preview.

To Jim, it seemed as if time suddenly slowed to a crawl. He noticed the shocked expressions on Rick and the kids' faces as they stared at something behind him. The rotten stench grew more powerful. He turned toward his house and saw a group of zombies coming toward them, carrying Tammy and Danny in their clutches. And behind him stood Anthony, Samhain, several other dead neighbors, a few dead animals—and a horde of zombie Clickers. Then time snapped back to normal, and Jim screamed. Hands on his hips, Anthony threw back his head and laughed.

Rick's aim swayed as he glanced around in panic. More zombies came out of hiding, quickly surrounding them. Melody whimpered in fear. Richard tensed, fists clenched at his sides. Mary closed her eyes.

"Fuck this," Pete said, and ran.

"Pete," Richard yelled. "Don't…"

The dead fell on the fleeing teen before he'd taken a dozen steps. A zombie yanked a canister of pepper spray from its pocket and sprayed him in the eyes as he ran by. Pete fell to the ground, shrieking, eyes clenched shut. Then Samhain darted forward, going for his throat. At the last minute, the stunned boy managed to blindly throw his hand up to ward off the attack. His hand slid into the dog's mouth and the slavering jaws snapped shut, severing his fingers at the knuckles. Pete yanked his ruined hand free. Blood spurted from the stumps, squirting all over his attackers.

Rick swiveled the rifle toward them, and fired a shot at the dog. Instead of hitting its target, the round slammed into the thigh of the zombie with the pepper spray. The creature simply laughed.

"Lower your weapons, Jim." Anthony grinned. "And tell your friend to do the same or we'll tear Tammy and Danny apart right here in the street."

Jim knelt, laying the .45 and the hatchet on the asphalt. Then he glanced back at Rick.

"The hell are you doing?" Rick's eyes were wide.

"Do it," Jim gasped, glancing back at Rick. "Please? He's got my family."

Scowling, Rick did as Jim requested.

Anthony smirked. "They're not your family anymore, Jim. You're divorced. They're my family now. Well, my host form's, at least."

"Anthony," Jim pleaded. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm not Anthony. My name is Ob. Now I want all of you to watch this, because if you don't obey me, this is what will happen to Jim's family—and to all of you."

Writhing in the street, Pete screamed as the dead encircled him. He kicked and thrashed as they held him down and tore into him with their bare hands, clawing open his stomach and reaching inside.

"No," Martel cried.

Rick reached for her as she ran to help Pete, but she slipped past him.

"Humans," Ob muttered. "They never listen."

A zombie Clicker charged into the street, blocking Martel from reaching Pete. As she skidded to a stop, it jabbed forward with its tail, plunging the stinger into her abdomen. Gasping, Martel reached down and grabbed the appendage. Her hands came away slick with her own blood. The tail pulsed and throbbed as the zombie pumped venom into her. Then, with a wet sucking sound, the creature withdrew the stinger. It glistened in the sun, and parts of Martel's insides clung to it. She fell to the ground, the gaping hole in her stomach bubbling and steaming as her flesh began to melt.

"Oh God," Richard moaned. "Do something, Dad. We've got to do something!"

"I…" Rick shut his eyes, unable to watch.

The horde continued shredding Pete. His intestines, kidneys, and lungs were yanked from his body and pulped in the zombies' fists. One of the creatures stuck its head inside his open chest and made motorboat sounds. The others cackled gleefully.

"He's still alive," Melody wailed. "Pete's still alive, Dad!"

Rick opened his eyes again, and stared. Pete was indeed moving, but the smile on his face told Rick all he needed to know. He hugged his daughter tight, turning her head away from the carnage.

"He's not alive, baby. That's not him anymore. It's one of those things."

Ob nodded. "Very good, Mister…?"

"Rick Sycheck. And go fuck yourself."

"I like him," Ob said, turning his attention back to Jim. "He reminds me of you."

Tammy and Danny's captors reached the rest of the group. They shoved the two forward. Both of them rushed to Jim's side. He picked Danny up and hugged them both tightly.

"Daddy," Danny sobbed. "I'm scared. You said they wouldn't get us."

"Ssshh." Jim kissed his head, breathing in his son's scent. "It will be okay, Squirt."

"Awww, how touching."

"Anthony, if there's any of you left alive in there, then let them go. It's me you have a problem with. You loved Tammy, right? So why do this?"

"I told you once before, I am not Anthony. My name is Ob. Do you not know me?"

Jim shook his head. "Should I have?"

"We've met before, on other worlds than this. You blew me up once, in the sewers beneath New York City. And you dropped me off a mountain in West Virginia. And out of an airplane, once. Oh, and you cut my head off in Japan. Those are the times I remember, at least. I'm sure there were more. When you are as old as me, you sometimes forget the little details. But I certainly haven't forgotten you, Jim Thurmond, or your brat there, or your friends Frankie and Martin."

"I don't know anyone named Frankie or Martin. And I don't care who you are—don't talk about my son that way again."

"Always defiant to the end," Ob replied. "Well, you got one thing right, Jim. I do indeed have a problem with you."

"Fair enough. Let my family go then. And these folks, too. They've done nothing to you."

"Yes, they have. They were born. That is affront enough. They are beloved by the Creator, as are you all. That alone is cause to hate them."

"What are you going to do with us?" Rick asked.

"With you?" Ob asked. "I'm sure I'll think of something creative. There are so many different ways to kill. But you'll have it easy compared to the Thurmonds. I want Jim to suffer."

Tammy moaned. Jim squeezed her tight, keeping Danny protected between them.

"But in general," Ob continued, "we will continue with the corruption of all flesh. Normally, that takes some time, but the Clickers, as you call them, unwittingly helped us speed up the process. Remarkable creatures. I wish I could be one all the time."

"Do you honestly think," Rick replied, "that we're just going to let you destroy our planet without doing something about it?"

"And what would you do, little man? Look around you. Behold the small army I have amassed against you right here on this suburban street."

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. The zombies leered and grinned. The human corpses raised a cheer. Engastrimathos du aba paren tares! Hail, Ob!" The dead Clickers raised their claws and clacked them together. The noise was nearly deafening. CLICK-CLICK… CLICK-CLICK… CLICK-CLICK… CLICK-CLICK… CLICK-CLICK…

Inside the SUV, Princess howled.

"Stop it," Melody screamed, slipping loose from Rick and clapping her hands over her ears. "Just make it stop!"

"As you wish," Ob said. "We'll kill you quickly, let one of my minions inhabit you, and then Daddy can watch while you choke him with his own intestines."

Melody collapsed to the street, skinning her knees on the bloody pavement. Rick glanced at the rifle, but two zombie Clickers edged toward him, tails hovering menacingly in the air above him.

"Oh, don't take it so hard," Ob said, turning back to Jim, Tammy, and Danny. "That's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to Jim's little brat. Here, I'll show you."

Danny screamed.

The Rundown

I've had a lot of new releases over the past few weeks. In case you missed them, here's a rundown before the next round of new releases.

The Last Zombie: Inferno

Trade Paperback, $9.95

Volume 2 in the series. Collects The Last Zombie: Inferno issues #1 – 5

Click here to order.

-

The Last Zombie: Neverland #1

Comic Book, $4.99

First issue in the follow-up to The Last Zombie: Inferno

Click here to order.

-

Ghoul

Trade Paperback, $11.95

Back in print just in time for the movie!

Click here to order.

-

Clickers Vs. Zombies

Signed, Limited Hardcover, $50

The fourth installment in the Clickers series features the return of The Rising's Ob!

Click here to order.

-

Eingesperrt

Hardcover and Kindle, $8.90 and $3.99 (Euros)

German edition of The Cage.

Click here to order.

-

Castaways

Kindle and Nook, $7.95

Also available in paperback and audio-book.

Click here to order.

-

Darkness On The Edge Of Town

Nook, $7.95

Also available in paperback and for Kindle.

Click here to order.

-

Dead Sea

Nook, $7.95

Also available in paperback and for Kindle.

Click here to order.

-

Clickers III: Dagon Rising

Nook, $7.95

Also available in paperback and for Kindle.

Click here to order.

-

Thoughts on Awards (Updated)

Yes, that's right. Two writing-oriented Blog entries tonight! This second one is Nick Mamatas's fault. Before going further, you'll want to read this entry on his Livejournal. So, go do that. Then come back here. I'll wait.

Done? Okay, good. Now, I don't know the author who posted that. Perhaps she meant well. Perhaps she doesn't know any better. But Nick is absolutely right in pointing out that it is exactly this type of stance and behavior that makes many professional authors grouse about the Stoker Award (mostly in private but sometimes in public). So what follows isn't an attack on her. It is meant for the many who also perpetuate this type of nonsense.*

As you can see from the pic above, I've got eight awards, including two Bram Stoker Awards. You know what a Bram Stoker Award is? It's a haunted house statue that the doors frequently fall off of. They are a bitch to dust around, attract chocolate fingerprint smudges from curious toddlers, and make perfectly serviceable paperweights. That's ALL they are. That's all any award is. A material object that you put on a shelf and then have to dust around.

The physical award isn't important. What's important is why you received the award. For example, right next to my Stokers in the pic above, you'll see an award bestowed upon me by the men and women of the 509th Logistics Fuels Flight at Whitman Air Force Base (home of the B-2 Stealth Bomber). They gave me that many years ago for the Books For Troops program I used to run. To express their gratitude, these men and women pooled their money and commissioned that award, and let me tell you, it remains the single-most thing I am proud of in my fifteen-year career. The award itself is also a bitch to dust around, and it has a tendency to fall over anytime my cat or toddler jumps too hard, but the sentiment behind it means the world to me. I'm proud of that award because of why I received it.

I used to be proud of my Stokers, too, because the Stokers used to mean something. They meant that your peers — most of whom were well-read and knowledgeable and knew their roots — had judged your work to be superior. These days, not so much. The vast public perception is that the Stokers are now nothing more than a shill's game — a primary election where the majority of the candidates promote their eligibility for a paperweight instead of the Presidency, and the electorate expects and encourages this behavior by grubbing for free books and patting the backs of those who pat theirs. Knowing that, it's hard to feel the same sense of pride toward those two haunted houses as I do that award next to them.

Contrary to popular opinion, a Stoker Award will not help you sell a book or a movie. They do not mean you'll get a bigger advance or better royalty rates. They do not sell extra copies of your books. To achieve these things, one does what writers have always done to achieve them. You write, submit, negotiate, and market.

Or, if none of those things are important to you, and what you want is a perfectly serviceable paperweight that is a bitch to dust around, then instead of spending your time writing, negotiating, and marketing, just keep doing what so many writers these days seem to be doing.

*Nick noted in his Blog entry that he has grown kind in his old age. So have I.

Postscript: This should go without saying, but I'm obviously not implying that every single person up for a Stoker or voting in the Stokers engages in these practices. They aren't. Sadly, there are enough, however, who do, and thus, taint the entire process.

Postscript #2: For another take on the Stoker Award and what the statue is good for, read this by Mike Oliveri.

Thoughts on Awards

Yes, that's right. Two writing-oriented Blog entries tonight! This second one is Nick Mamatas's fault. Before going further, you'll want to read this entry on his Livejournal. So, go do that. Then come back here. I'll wait.

Done? Okay, good. Now, I don't know the author who posted that. I know who she was, but I don't know her as a person. Perhaps she meant well. Perhaps she doesn't know any better. But Nick is absolutely right in pointing out that it is exactly this type of stance and behavior that makes many professional authors grouse about the Stoker Award (mostly in private but sometimes, for a few, in public). So what follows isn't an attack on her. It is meant for the many who also perpetuate this type of nonsense.*

As you can see from the pic above, I've got eight awards, including two Bram Stoker Awards. You know what a Bram Stoker Award is? It's a haunted house statue that the doors frequently fall off of. They are a bitch to dust around, attract chocolate fingerprint smudges from curious toddlers, and make perfectly serviceable paperweights. That's ALL they are. That's all any award is. A material object that you put on a shelf and then have to dust around.

The physical award isn't important. What's important is why you received the award. For example, right next to my Stokers in the pic above, you'll see an award bestowed upon me by the men and women of the 509th Logistics Fuels Flight at Whitman Air Force Base (home of the B-2 Stealth Bomber). They gave me that many years ago for the Books For Troops program I used to run. To express their gratitude, these men and women pooled their money and commissioned that award, and let me tell you, it remains the single-most thing I am proud of in my fifteen-year career. The award itself is also a bitch to dust around, and it has a tendency to fall over anytime my cat or toddler jumps too hard, but the sentiment behind it means the world to me. I'm proud of that award because of why I received it.

I used to be proud of my Stokers, too, because the Stokers used to mean something. They meant that your peers — most of whom were well-read and knowledgeable and knew their roots — had judged your work to be superior. These days, not so much. Oh, perhaps there's still some truth to that, but the vast public perception is that the Stokers are now nothing more than a shill's game — a primary election where the majority of the candidates promote their eligibility for a paperweight instead of the Presidency, and the electorate expects and encourages this behavior. Knowing that, it's hard to feel the same sense of pride toward those two haunted houses as I do that award next to them.

Contrary to popular opinion, a Stoker Award will not help you sell a book or a movie. They do not mean you'll get a bigger advance or better royalty rates. They do not sell extra copies of your books. To achieve these things, one does what writers have always done to achieve them. You write, submit, negotiate, and market.

Or, if none of those things are important to you, and what you want is a perfectly serviceable paperweight that is a bitch to dust around, then instead of spending your time writing, negotiating, and marketing, just keep doing what so many writers these days seem to be doing.

Postscript: This should go without saying, but I'm obviously not implying that every single person up for a Stoker or voting in the Stokers engages in these practices. They aren't. Sadly, there are enough, however, who do, and thus, taint the entire process.

Postscript #2: For another take on the Stoker Award and what the statue is good for, read this by Mike Oliveri.

*Nick noted in his Blog entry that he has grown kind in his old age. So have I.

Thoughts on Being Prolific

These are the signature sheets for Clickers vs. Zombies, which I've just finished signing. There are less than 20 copies of the book left. Click here to reserve your copy. They'll ship soon.

Signing sig sheets isn't the only bit of work I've done this weekend, which brings me to the meat of tonight's Blog entry. But before you read any further, I'd first like you to read this interview with me over at Serenity J. Banks' site. That interview was conducted over two years ago, and while much of it remains accurate, a few things have changed. In it, I said, "The thing about writing full-time is that you're lucky enough to devote however many hours a day to it that you need to. I usually work eight to ten hours a day." For years, that was how I worked. Monday through Friday, eight to ten hours a day. And when I was younger, those were heady, intoxicating times. I used to write two books simultaneously. I'd work on one in the morning, eat lunch, and then switch over to the second book in the afternoon. Over the last fifteen years, that sort of schedule, energy, and dedication has allowed me to write well over 40 novels, short story collections, novellas, and graphic novels.

But times change and people change. Like Rush says, "nights growing colder, children growing up, old friends growing older." At a few months shy of 45, I find myself entering Andropause, and caring for my four-year old son Monday through Thursday, as well as making sure his twenty-one-year old brother doesn't repeat the same mistakes I made at twenty-one (and so far, he hasn't). At the end of the day, that leaves me pretty damned tired, both physically and mentally. It's hard to write in that state, and thus, I've adapted my work schedule accordingly.

These days, my work schedule is quite different. My toddler goes to his Mom on Thursday night, and that is when my work week begins. On Thursday, I write from 6pm until 4am, and then write four hours a day on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It was a big adjustment to go from the luxury of five eight-hour days to this new sort of hyper-compressed weekend writing burst, but I made it work because I am a writer. And so are you and so can you.

So often, new writers tell me that they can't find time to write. I've ranted about this at length, but what my advice boils down to is – stop trying to find time to write. If you look for time, you'll never find it. What you have to do instead is make time. Kids, day-jobs, significant others — these are all a part of life. You make time for all three. If you want to be a writer, you have to make time for that, as well. Maybe you get up extra early and write before heading off to your day job, the way Bev Vincent does. Or maybe you write in the evening, after you've come home from that day job, like James A. Moore does. Or maybe, like me, you're already writing full-time, and are just struggling how to balance that with your other obligations. You just have to figure out what works for you.

I'm not nearly as prolific as I once was. This gnaws at my pulp roots, but that's okay. Because what I've learned is that it doesn't matter how many books you write a year. What matters is that you write. You make the time to do it and then you sit your ass down in the chair and you write.

2012 Release Schedule

Here is the release schedule for all of my books and comics coming out this year. Please keep in mind that publishing is a fluid business and these dates are tentative.

JANUARY:

Ghoul, paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Inferno, paperback, Antarctic Press

FEBRUARY:

The Cage, paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Neverland #1, comic, Antarctic Press

MARCH:

Dark Hollow, paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Neverland #2, comic, Antarctic Press

APRIL:

Ghost Walk, paperback and digital, Deadite Press

Clickers vs. Zombies, signed hardcover, Miskatonic Books – Bloodletting Press

The Last Zombie: Neverland #3, comic, Antarctic Press

MAY:

An Occurrence In Crazy Bear Valley, paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Neverland #4, comic, Antarctic Press

JUNE:

Entombed (follow-up to Dead Sea), paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Neverland #5, comic, Antarctic Press

JULY:

Earthworm Gods (Uncut Author's Preferred Edition with extra material), paperback and digital, Deadite Press

AUGUST:

Earthworm Gods: Selected Scenes From the End of the World, paperback and digital, Deadite Press

SEPTEMBER:

The Rising (Uncut Author's Preferred Edition with extra material), paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Before the After #1, comic, Antarctic Press

OCTOBER:

City of the Dead (Uncut Author's Preferred Edition with extra material), paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Before the After #2, comic, Antarctic Press

NOVEMBER:

The Rising: Selected Scenes From the End of the World, paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Before the After #3, comic, Antarctic Press

DECEMBER:

Suburban Gothic (sequel to Urban Gothic), paperback and digital, Deadite Press

The Last Zombie: Before the After #4, comic, Antarctic Press

CURRENTLY UNSCHEDULED BUT ALSO ON DECK FOR 2012:

The Lost Level, paperback and digital, Apex Book Company

Hole In The World, signed hardcover, Camelot Books

Maelstrom Set 3 (with Deluge), signed hardcovers, Thunderstorm Books (Fall 2012)

The Last Zombie: Neverland, paperback, Antarctic Press

Clickers vs. Zombies, paperback and digital, Deadite Press (Winter 2012)

Official Trailer for GHOUL

The official trailer for Ghoul is now online. Click here to watch it. Ghoul premieres Friday, April 13th at 9pm on Chiller.

In addition to the trailer, you can buy the book here, buy the audio book here, and listen to a sneak peek of the movie soundtrack here.