Edward Lorn's Blog, page 79

Netflix: Marvel’s Daredevil Episode Two

Imagine someone’s pissing��in your face. When this someone stops pissing in your face, you appreciate that you’re not longer being pissed on. That is this show. It’s never really good, but it does stop pissing in your face every once and a while.

It’s painfully obvious at this point that I’m going to have to forcibly suspend all disbelief if I am to continue on with Marvel’s Daredevil. Truth be told, I’m only carrying on because of the fight scenes. The action is swell, even if the rest of the show is utterly illogical.

Direct quote from Facebook regarding my reaction to the opening scenes of this episode:

“Who the fuck in New York City (Hell’s Kitchen especially), or anywhere else for that matter, pulls a bleeding stranger out of a goddamn dumpster and takes them into their home so they can nurse them back to health? Anybody, and I mean ANYBODY, else would have either called 911 or left him to die. The logic of this show is nonexistent.”

Well, they��tried to explain why, and that only made me dislike this show��more.

I’m notorious for hating all things coincidental in fiction if coincidence is the thing the entire plot depends on. In this second episode, Rosario Dawson’s character Clare is jammed��into the storyline thusly: Daredevil, beaten and bloody, ends up in a dumpster located just outside of Clare’s��apartment building. Clare��just so happens to be a nurse. Clare also just so happens to be the same nurse who worked on the guys Daredevil beat up in the first episode. She also just so fucking happens (do you see a pattern yet?) to be the nurse who helped a girl that Daredevil saved…

*bashes head against keyboard*

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU, COINCIDENCE!!!

I want to like this. All my friends like��it. All my��discerning friends like��it. I’m trying my damnedest to give it the benefit of the doubt. I will watch up until Episode Four before quitting because a friend told me there might be something at the end of that episode that I’ll enjoy.

By the way, Daredevil doesn’t have superhuman healing powers. He can just take a lot of punishment without so much as a bruise the next day… or, you know, whatever. Also, Clare fixes his collapsed lung with a goddamn IV cannula and he’s all better in under an hour. So much so that he can go all��Oldboy��on a group of child smugglers.

This fucking show is stupid. But the action is fun. It’s the superhero movie Michael Bay would direct if he didn’t have the budget for explosions.

Oh, and I did dig the ode to��Oldboy. That scene in the hallway was impressively shot. If it wasn’t all one take, the editor needs some kind of fucking award.

In summation: No logic was harmed during the filming of this show because it was absent during the writing of the script.

Final Judgment: Are we sure this isn’t a DC Comic’s property?

Netflix: Marvel’s Daredevil First Impression

Along comes��a series to wipe out the detriment to society that was 2003’s��Daredevil, which starred��the uber-jawed Ben Affleck in the titular role, and I gotta say, this new Daredevil is… meh. In comparison, Marvel’s��Daredevil��is Citizen Kane to Affleck’s Toxic Avenger, but that doesn’t make it good. I think a lot of people will love this simply because it doesn’t star Bennifer Part Deux, and that’s really too bad.

Let’s get the personal shit out of the way. I hate the actor who plays Foggy. He’s got the acting chops of Rodin’s Thinker, and I kept wishing that his mother would come out of the shadows to wash his fucking hair. Every time he had a “serious” scene he looked like��he wanted to burst out laughing, as if��he kept making up the funniest shit in his head and didn’t bother sharing it with anyone else. It was annoying and distracting, and I disliked every scene with him in it. He also has a punchable face, at least for me he does. One of those mugs that simply makes me want to do violence. And I’m a pretty amiable motherfucker.

Personal shit out of the way, there’s problems with the actual show. Unfortunately, the biggest problem being Daredevil’s Wolverine-like self-healing capabilities. I never read the comic books. If this is a thing that exists (him being able to completely heal all facial wounds just by sleeping through the night), my bad. If this is never explained in the show, shame on them. Because Daredevil gets the brakes beaten off him and is no worse for wear come the next day. At one point he’s literally spitting blood into a rain puddle, but the next day he doesn’t have so much as a split lip. This, more so than even Foggy’s shit performance, kinda ruined things for me.

Furthermore, I do not want a league of Daredevil fanboys befalling me, screaming their arguments of “He can heal himself in the comics!” because I don’t give a fuck. I have not read the comics, so the show should explain this. Fugoff!

Will I continue watching? Yeah. Overall, I don’t hate it , only Foggy. I dug the fight scenes. They were stylistic while being somewhat believable, and I like the cat who plays Murdock. He’s just the right mix of cocky and humble.

In summation: I’m hoping this series will grow on me as it shuffles through its growing pains. I hope that Foggy dies a brutal��death at the hands of sexual deviants, and that the Pepper Pots wannabe becomes more than just a damsel-in-distress character, ’cause, for real, the actress who plays her is great, but the character herself is kinda one note.

Final Judgement: Unexplainably punchable with self-healing capabilities.

Flash Fiction Friday: VEGLAND

Yesterday, I put the call out for ideas. I thought it would be fun to��let my friends on BookLikes choose the topic of my first Flash Fiction Friday post. People responded awesomely. You’ll find their ideas at the bottom of this post. If I didn’t use your suggestions, no worries. There’s always next Friday.

Oh, and some of your suggestions are sprinkled throughout. I know there was one suggestion with four parts, so I had to chop it up to make it work.

Enjoy.

VEGLAND

by Edward Lorn

My name���s Tiger and I find things for people.

I���ve lived a strange life. When I was fifteen, a two-hundred-pound ape carcass crashed through the roof of my suburban home. Dad was pissed. Mom was indifferent.

The next week, my mother ran off with a robot cult because Christianity didn���t rotate her gears anymore. These cultists are the people who got the amusement park in town closed down because of how the animatronics were being treated.

I suppose that���s why I picked the career I did. Meaning, not much shocks me. So when Charlene called up asking me to find her flesh-eating corn cob, I didn���t hesitate to say yes.

This ain���t some dime-store pulp paperback. I ain���t going to bore you with how this dame walked in and begged me to take her case, because it didn���t happen like that.

Charlene called me, told me her story, and asked if I���d find her corn. I agreed.

Money���s money unless it���s funny.

As with most cases, I wound up at the local library. Librarian���s name is Gregor. He���s a cool cat, if a little weird. He likes to tell how he lost his virginity, you know, if you���re old enough to hear such a thing. It involves a goat, so you gotta have a strong stomach, too.

You���ve been to a library before. I ain���t going to tell you what it looks like.

I was back in the stacks, researching fleshing-eating starches, when I heard a rather manly scream followed by the low tick and hum of machinery. I tucked my research materials under my arm and made for the checkout desk.

Gregor was dead. He had a goat hanging half-in and half-out of his backside. I guess what comes around goes around.

I wasn���t shocked.

(Remember the ape that fell through my roof?)

I called the local PD and let them deal with it.

I don���t know why, but death makes me hungry. Seeing Gregor, all half-fulla goat like he was, gave me a hankering for Greek. I headed across town to Athena���s.

There ain���t much of shit I can eat these days, allergies being what they are. Athena���s is run by a beefy broad named Paula who knows what I can eat and fixes me up nicely whenever I drop by.

I laid my research materials on the bar as Paula slid a plate of lamb and cucumber in front of me.

You���ve seen a beefy broad with humungous boobs before. I ain���t gonna tell you what Paula looks like.

���Ut���s dat?��� she asked, and scratched under one heavy breast.

���New case.���

���Cannibal veg?���

���Technically, no. Flesh eating veg. Cannibal would mean they eat other veg.���

���Ah.���

I ate in silence while Paula flipped through a scrapbook. She���d acquired amnesia after falling off a ladder the year before. She���d been reaching for a tub of yogurt in the cooler when she slipped, fell, and bashed her head on a shelf. The scrapbook was her way of remembering the past. I didn���t have the heart to tell her all the photos were stock, so, whenever she asked, I lied: ���Sure, that looks like you.���

I read through my materials. Flesh-eating veg were a product of genetic experiments first conducted by Dr. Ralph King. Dr. King also went on to be leader of a cult. The same cult that owned the closed down amusement park in town. They���d won it in a court battle over animatronics��� rights.

VegLand was all the rage in the 1980s. Ride the Cucumber Coaster! Twirl on the Cauliflower Carts! Terrorize yourself on the Tobacco Train, sponsored by Marlboro.

Hey, money���s money unless it���s funny.

It was full dark by the time I parked in the weedy lot and got out.

Flashlight in hand, I squeezed through the rusty gate.

You���ve seen pictures of rundown carnivals at night. I ain���t going to tell you what VegLand looked like.

I found my mother on the carousel. She was spread-eagle atop one of the horses, pleasuring herself with a corn cob. At least that was what I thought was happening.

Truth of the matter was, Mom was dead. Had been for at least an hour. The corn cob had eaten most of her lady bits. The way her stomach was caved in, I���m guessing it had snacked on half her insides, too.

���Lovely, ain���t it?��� Dr. King asked from the shadows. ���My creation devouring my follower. Poetic, don���t you think.���

I���m a private dick, not a cop. The only weapon I own was limp in my shorts.

���I suppose this is where I monologue,��� said Dr. King. ���My robot cult was responsible for shooting down that plane full of apes when you were a kid. Your mother, of course, knew this. Seeing our cause as righteous, she joined.���

���Hold on, space cadet. What���s any of this have to do with anamatronics��� rights?���

���Those monkeys would have put our fellow animatronics out of jobs. They wanted to turn VegLand into a zoo! Even after we killed a great percentage of the animals on that plane, they still meant to buy more!���

���Why���d Gregor have to die?���

���I lost my library book. Didn���t want to pay the fine.���

���Really?���

���Yes.���

���Fine. What about the corn? Why are you stealing your own invention?���

���Nobody stole anything, Tiger. Charlene works for us.���

You���ve seen a twist before. I ain���t going to tell you why this was one.

���Tell me, Tiger��� are you allergic to corn, too?���

I am, but he didn���t need to know that.

Dr. King chuckled as he produced a small device and began pressing buttons. The fleshing-eating corn cob stopping eating my mother, flopped down from the horse, and came at me, end-over-end.

I punted it. Hard.

Dr. King got a mouthful.

His head snapped back as the cob first devoured his tongue and then worked its way down his throat.

You���ve seen a corny ending before. I ain���t going to tell why you this is one.

Suggestions used:

Brainycat’s Occaisonal Reviews

MC has severe food allergies, but has to travel and can’t find anything to eat amidst a huge selection of unknown foods. CHECK

Soze Says

And then it turns out some of the food might actually be eyeing the MC as something for it to eat! CHECK

Musings/Tr��umereien/Devaneios

A library, a lost book, a scream, and a lie.��CHECK

Paul Read or Dead

Lorn writes Porn with a devilish twist in an abandoned theme park.��Half-CHECK

Grimlock. Stronger, faster, studlier.

Robot cult. Because the book I read that had it had all this hardcore Christianity in it so I couldn’t get past that part, and I still want to see what a robot cult looks like. CHECK

It’s a Mad Mad World

Someone in the book has amnesia… CHECK

Gregor Xane

An ape carcass falls from the sky and through the roof of a suburban home. CHECK

Andreya’s Asylum

Gregor’s first time, when baah-ad things happen to good animals. CHECK

Char’s Horror Corner

My suggestion is Corn porn! CHECK

Cruelty: The Complete Serial Novel (Signed and Numbered Limited Edition Hardcover) now available for pre-order!

Coming June��1st, 2015!

Cruelty:The Complete Serial Novel collects all ten episodes in one signed limited edition hardcover.

Only fifty of these books will be printed. Each book will be signed and numbered.

The hardcover is 689 pages and will��come with a special surprise for collectors, as well as new custom images for each episode and a signature page.

Example:

Books will be personalized to each individual. If you would like a certain message written inside the book, please add that to your note when checking out.

The book is $60 with free shipping to the United States. $75 for all international customers.

Customers in the US, click HERE

International customers click��HERE

NOTE: This pre-order is for the trade paperback version of Episodes Six ��� Ten.

Click the link below��to pre-order A Final Act of Cruelty��(Signed Limited Edition)

Only 25 copies of this book will be printed. Each book comes with a custom signature page that will be signed and numbered.

If you would like a personal message from the author, please add it to the comments of your purchase. Thank you.

A Final Act of Cruelty��(Signed Limited Edition)��ships May 1st, 2015!

The book is $25.00 with free shipping to anywhere in the United States, and $40.00 for international customers.

Customers in the US, click HERE

International customers, click HERE

Thank you for your continued support!

A Decade with King: 1985-1994

“You’ve been here before…” Needful Things, by Stephen King

Welcome back, Constant Reader.

Prefatory Matters: Back in September 2014, I decided to reread Stephen King’s entire catalog, chronologically, by date of publication. Then, I went a bit further. I decided to complete this challenge in a single year. That’s a decade of King every three months. These posts will be a bit emotional, as they are my personal experiences with King’s work. For spoiler-laden reviews of each novel, you can click on the corresponding title. At the end, I will attempt to tie all books back into the Dark Tower using my own theories and facts King himself has verified.

Previous posts:��1974-1984

This, my fellow Constant Readers, is A Decade with King: 1985-1994.

I’d like to take a moment and bring to light some patterns��I’ve found in King’s career. Every ten years, King releases a novel over a thousand words, a short story collection, a collection of novellas, and at least one Dark Tower book. Sometimes, one book will fall into two categories. In his third decade, King didn’t release a single thousand-page novel, but he did release the final three Dark Tower novels, which were, altogether, over two-thousand-pages long and written consecutively, like one big novel. I think this counts, but I will let you decide. Other than that, there has been no deviation to this pattern. Not saying there’s some kind of conspiracy behind this, just saying it’s interesting. And I have to wonder whether or not it’s intentional on King’s part.

With the decade of King’s work spanning 1985-1994, we step into an��era wherein I actually remember King’s books being published and the hullabaloo surrounding their releases. I remember the nonsensical line inside��Waldenbooks at the San Bernardino mall for the release of��It��. Crazed fans speaking loudly about how it was King’s longest book to date (you have to remember that��The Stand was originally just over 800 pages when it released in 1978; the Complete and Uncut version would not be printed until 1990, and��It��came out in 1986). I was six years old at this point, and I recall, most vividly, the lady in front of us. She had epic bangs (epic even by 80’s standards), and she had to shit. She refused to get out of line unless someone saved her place. No one would, so she just stood there, passing gas, funking up the place, until someone passed a complaint along and she was escorted to the bathroom. She never returned to the line. Yes, this actually happened. I might pay the bills with my fiction, but this story is true. I also remember the insanity the week after��The Tommyknockers dropped. People everywhere were hot under the collar. Nobody liked that book. People felt ripped off, even more so than they felt with��It��(which, interestingly enough, was one of the most expensive books of its time due to its length).��The Tommyknockers��left many a fan shell shocked, and King fans didn’t fully recover until��Needful Things. I think his success with the latter book came from his return to Castle Rock.

Now we move on to the section where I insert my personal memories��of each book. Most people can hear a song and be transported to a certain moment in their lives. Me? I’m that way with King books.

It reminds me of being a kid. I had many adventures around my small hometown, and most of them included a band of friends I would come to lose, one by one, over the years to drugs, violence, or a combination of both. Of that group, I’m the last one standing. I consider myself more the Ben Hanscom type, but there’s a little Mike Hanlon in me as well. If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the library. I’ve come to believe that every single Stephen King book can be explained using the Dark Tower series,��The Tommyknockers, or this novel. But we’ll talk more about that later.

The Eyes of the Dragon��is��one of those books whose fans I will��never understand. I honestly don’t see what other Constant Readers see in this one. It’s a stinker. One of King’s worst. The writing is sophomoric. The plot is stolen from far greater tales. And… *sigh* … never mind. If you want my review, click the link at the end of this review. Even��though��I hate this book with every thread of my being, it reminds me��of my niece,��Alana. Alana, if you ever read this, Uncle E. was reading this the night you were born. You were a very welcome distraction. I ended up finishing this book��while at Glamis with your father. They made a bonfire out of Christmas trees. The resulting fireworks were amazing. This one ties in very loosely to the Dark Tower universe. More can be found out in my review. Links below.

The Dark Tower II: The Drawing of the Three reminds me of the time we found out we had a pedophile living on our street and he finally went to jail. I had not read this book, but during this time in my life, I used to enjoy flipping through the pictures. Same goes for��The Cycle of the Werewolf. I flipped through those two books so much that by the nineties they had pages falling out of them. Anyway, I attribute this one to the pedo because, after he was caught, his wife sold off all of his books. I bought this one with the money I’d been saving in my Folger’s can. My mother had it already, but it was in the Great Book Closet due to the scene in Balthazar’s office. Obvious Dark Tower tie-in is obvious.

Misery reminds me of a hilarious fangirl conversation that occurred between my mother and her best friend Andrita. My mother, being the go-with-the-flow gal that she’s always been, was not upset in the least that they changed the hobbling scene from ax to sledgehammer for the Rob Reiner movie. Andrita was. They argued over this for almost two hours. I recall sitting on the porch steps of Andrita’s home (she was a fan of Virginia Slims and chained smoked;��I couldn’t stand cigarettes back then because they made me sick to my stomach. Funnily enough I grew up to be a two-pack-a-day smoker. I quit last year). Andrita’s son and his partner were barbecuing in the front yard, and I was watching them while listening to the jovial argument in the house. This was in the��late 80s, maybe even as late as 1990, and I remember quite vividly, even then, thinking there was nothing wrong with two men being “together”. Those two guys seemed so happy. My father made sure to tell me they were “fags” and “queers” during the car ride home, and how he’d kill me if I ever loved��a man. Sometimes I wish I had been born gay just so I could have rubbed that shit in dad’s face before he died. If you think me a horrible person for saying that, you didn’t know my father. There’s a Beam reference in��Misery. Challenge yourself. See if you can find it.

The Tommyknockers was the last thing I watched with my middle sister before she moved to Illinois. I didn’t see her again for ten years, and when we did reunite, we were, of course, completely different people. We don’t get along so well these days.��This totally-shit movie adaptation makes me remember a time when I was too young to understand just how much religion can change people… for the worse. More on Dark Tower tie-ins in the��Ring Around the Tower section below.

The Dark Half��brings to the mind the moment I realized my mother was not the infallible fountain of knowledge and experience I believed her to be. When it was revealed that King was Richard Bachman, my mom must’ve taken a sick day. I knew, my sisters knew… shit, I think even my dad knew. It was on the news every night for a week. It was the big controversy on everyone’s lips. Remember when the literary world��found out that Robert Galbraith was actually Rowling? Well, that didn’t hold a candle to this. People felt wronged, slighted, betrayed. My mother kept right on going in blissful ignorance. Then she read this book. I was nine at the time. She closed it and proceeded to tell me and my father what��a load of crap it was. No famous author could ever hide their identity so well. I couldn’t believe it. Did I actually know something Mom didn’t know? For real? For really real and realsies? When I told her, she balked. This was before the internet, so I had no proof on hand. Luckily, Andrita finally informed my mother I was right. It was a small victory, but a victory all the same. I do not tell you this to make you think I gloated over being smarter than my mother or any other nonsense like that. I tell you because, for the longest time, I thought my mother was perfect, godlike. I think I loved her even more when I found out she was human, just like me.��This book is the beginning of an unofficial trilogy:��The Dark Half, The Sun Dog,��and��Needful Things. If you plan on reading all three of these, I suggest doing so in order, you know, for maximum nerdy effect.

The Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands reminds me of crashing a moped. I should never have been on the fucking thing. I crashed it straight away, no fucking about. I threw my leg over it, started the engine, pressed the gas, and drove right into the rear end of my neighbor’s Oldsmobile. I was thrown up and over (imagine a stunt man rolling over the top of a vehicle in an action film, now take away all style and grace; that was me), but I managed to land on my feet at the front of the car; sprained both ankles in the process. Mom ran me to the ER, where I was significantly braced and reprimanded. During this time, one of the emergency room RNs asked my mother if she’d read King’s newest book yet. She said, “No, I didn’t even know it was out.” The nurse, who knew my mother from her stint in maternity (in case you don’t know, my mom is, was, and always will be a nurse; she’s worked��just about every position��a person in that profession can) said “It’s one of those Dark Wanderer��novels.” (Funny the shit you remember word for word, huh?) Afterward, I��had to wait��in the car��outside of the San Bernardino mall while my mother ran in to grab��The Waste Lands. Boy, was she fucking pissed at Blain. I think my mother could have boiled water on her cheeks after she finished that one. Once again, obvious Dark Tower tie-in is obvious…

Needful Things is probably the last Stephen King book I read when I started back through his catalog. The idea of Needful Things��never really gelled with me. How could a book about a shop in a small New England town possibly warrant over 700 pages? I mean, how much fucking story can you shove into a premise like that? I was stupid, okay. Plum brain-damaged. Anyfuck, this book��signifies my completion (the first time, anyway) of King’s full��catalog. After reading��Needful��Things in 2005 (2006?) I had successfully read everything the man had published, and vowed to never fall behind again. This is the first time King mentions “fifth business”, which is a term he borrowed from another author. He returns to the idea of a character’s “fifth business” in his 2014 novel��Revival.

Gerald’s Game. Oh, this one. I stumbled upon this one and fell in, pubic region first. This was another score from��the King book club that my mother didn’t know about me reading. I can remember reading whole sections of this book with an expression of WTF on my face. I was around 13, and though I’d become acquainted with my trouser buddy, I didn’t really know what he was used for, other than shaking hands with… vigorously… four to twelve times a day… I certainly couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be handcuffed while they… did it! The ending scared the bejeebuz out of me simply because I thought all that shit was in the main character’s��head. When I finally reread this one at the beginning of 2014, I realized that the novel has a bit of genius hidden inside. I also noted the various tie-ins to Dolores Claiborne, which went far over my head when I first read it. In case you don’t know,��Dolores Claiborne and��Gerald’s Game��are siamese twins connected at the middle. Read both, back to back, starting with��Dolores Claiborne��for the best experience possible. This is strange, too, because��Gerald’s Game��was published first. Oh, yeah, what does it remind me of? Well, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, it reminds me of the time I figured out how to masturbate… It reminds me of masturbation… Yep. I was a very dehydrated teenager.

Dolores Claiborne held the spot of Scariest Novel E. Had Ever Read for quite some time. To this day, I can’t think of many scarier circumstances than Dolores’s husband trapped in that well. I’ve told the story about how I came��across this book more than three dozen times in interviews and blog posts, so I will not reiterate it here. The short of it is, this book started me on my journey. It started my King fandom. I don’t care if you don’t consider it horror. It scared the shit out of me, and I loved every minute of it. I believe the moment Dolores and Jessie share is a connection��allowed to them by the Beam, and I believe that is due to the Beam-Quake that partially destroyed Gilead. I have proof to back that up, but not until the final decade, friends and neighbors. Patience…

Insomnia. In 1994, my oldest sister moved to Alabama. A year later, she talked my mother into moving there too. I was uprooted, taken away from my school, my friends, and my much traveled city, to live in a new city surrounded by ignorance. I was actually made fun of by the rednecks in my new school because I loved reading. A group of corn-fed motherfuckers jumped me after class one time because I voted that we��read over the weekend instead of taking homework home. My ribs were sore for three weeks. I’m lucky they didn’t break them, considering I was too ashamed to tell my parents I’d gotten my ass kicked over goddamn literature I might never have seen a doctor. I hated Alabama and all it stood for. I still, to this day, hate living here. But I do. I do because my family is now “southerners”. I do because my mother wants to be around her grandkids. I do because I don’t know anything else. Anyfuck, I was reading this book when we moved. I read it during the drive across country. It’s one of the most powerful memories I have of my youth. My life changed forever after this book. I grew up and hated every minute of it. This book reminds me of how my childhood died.

Ring Around the Tower:

Spoilers throughout, possibly for every book King has ever written. You have been warned.

Fact: The Dark Tower is referenced in It��and��Insomnia. The Turtle and Roland, most notably. Thomas and Dennis of��The Eyes of the Dragon��are mentioned in��The Waste Lands. There are references to things being “off the Beam” in��Misery, Needful Things, The Dark Tower, and Insomnia.

Theory: So, how do��The Tommyknockers,��Gerald’s Game, and Dolores Claibornefactor into the Dark Tower? Well, let’s play a game of Speculation, shall we?

I believe the aliens in��The Tommyknockers��(Pennywise is included with these, as he introduces himself as Mr. Gray in��It)��are actually an advanced race of beings that originated in��the Prim, they were also referred to as the Great Old Ones, the beings that gave Mid-World the technology it once enjoyed. For more on the Prim��and other Mid-World mythology,��click HERE. In the Dark Tower series, the Crimson King wishes to release the creatures of the Prim once and for all to bring about destruction. I surmise that, from time to time, something escapes the Prim. Pennywise is one of these creatures, as are the little bald doctors from��Insomnia. Now, Tower Aficionados will know that a Beam-Quake was responsible for the destruction of Gilead, and there is another one that occurs in Song of Susannah. Now, other beams snap in between, so why not during the eclipse that occurs during which��Dolores Claiborne��and��Gerald’s Game take place. When Dolores looks into the sky and makes the connection with young Jessie in��Gerald’s Game she sees a ripple in the sky, a section of unreality (not unlike what the sleepy passengers of flight 370 travel through in��The Langoliers) in which she glimpses a young girl on her father’s lap. What possible connection could these two have? None. They are just two people who happen to see each other through a momentary tear in reality. Bit of a stretch? Maybe. But I have more proof to come in later posts.

Well, that’s its for this decade. Thanks for travelling with me. Until next time, Constant Reader, this is where I cry off. Say thankee sai and goodnight.

Novels:

It - September 1986

The Eyes of the Dragon��– February 1987

The Drawing of the Three��– May 1987

Misery - June 1987

The Tommyknockers��– November 1987

The Dark Half��– October 1989

The Waste Lands��– August 1991

Needful Things��– October 1991

Gerald’s Game��– May 1992

Dolores Claiborne��– November 1992

Insomnia��– September 1994

Short Story Collection:

Skeleton Crew��

Novella Collection:

Four Past Midnight

Shortest Novel:

The Eyes of the Dragon

Personal Favorite:

It

1,000-Page Novel:

It

Dark Tower Novels:

The Drawing of the Three

The Waste Lands

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John Green and Accidental Plagiarism

If you hate John Green, you might want to skip this short post. I have an opinion. It is mine, and it is true. If you do not agree, I will allow discussion in the comments section, but only if you’re respectful of myself and others.

I do not partake in or condone plagiarism. I tried it once when I was six��and grew bored after copying down the first two lines of a Hardy Boy’s book. From that point on, I wrote my own stories because I’m too lazy to succeed��as a human Xerox machine. But, accidental plagiarism happens. This is true. This is fact.

Point in fact. I was talking to a good friend of mine (many of you know Gregor Xane, and he is the good friend of whom��I speak) and, during a discussion about how I’d been burning the candle at both ends while holding the rest of said candle over a pool of lava, I said, “Sleep’s eluding��me like it owes me money.” While this is not an exact quote, it is damn close.��I wrote��this to Gregor in a chat window. I put it out there, and, while only Gregor read it, I did, technically, plagiarize one of my favorite authors, a brilliant and kind man named James Newman. I had no idea what I’d done. I honestly believed that I came up with the line on the spot. Luckily, Gregor had read the book from which that line was taken (Ugly as Sin), and mentioned it to me. I was taken aback. You see, I might have actually used that line one day. In my own writing. Then what? I would have been labeled one of the most vile creatures to exist in the literary world: a plagiarist.

So, if you’re an author, what do you do if you screw up and use someone else’s line in your work, and it is, in fact, an accident? (Green didn’t use the quote in a book, but a company he owns did put the quote on posters and shirts that were then sold for a profit). What do you do in that case? Well, you apologize and pay the person their dues. All of which John Green��did. This fan is now receiving all��proceeds and retropay from sales of the artwork featuring their��quote.

I have no idea if Green used this fan’s quote unknowingly, but I have seen post after post suggesting that accidental plagiarism doesn’t happen, that every author since the beginning of time who��wrote words��down for the world to read knew exactly where those words came from.��I’m here to tell you that it does happen. I know, because it happened to me. I was just luckier than Green.

In summation: In the literary world, there is nothing worse than a plagiarist. They are the lowest of the low. I do not know if John Green is one, but his story is at least in the realm of possibility.

Author’s note: This blog was written in the hopes of spreading awareness, and I am not attacking anyone. Think of me what you will, but all that I have said in this post is the truth.

What it Means if I Follow You

If I follow you on social media, you might ask why.

Is it because I plan on spamming you with my books? Nope.

Is it because��I expect you to follow me back? Negative.

Is it because I plan on stalking you? Define stalking…

Is it because I plan to hunt you down and eat your kittens? Define kittens…

I kid, I kid. I’m a bit of a jokester.

Simply put, if I follow you, it’s because I found something on your page that I liked and would like to see more of. I know how shell-shocked our bookish communities are, and I understand why you might feel weird about having an author you don’t know following you. I solemnly swear I’m not rapey, spammy, or clingy.

Sincerely,

E.

NEW RELEASE “Trailer”, by Edward Lorn

My newest��short story is now available on Amazon.com.

“Trailer” is $0.99, or you can borrow through Prime or Kindle Unlimited.

Reviews are welcome, but not needed.

Click on the links below to grab your copy today.

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon Canada

Ruminating On: Harper Lee and her new book

I love a good conspiracy theory, and I have one for you today. What if Alice Lee, Harper’s sister, didn’t have Harper’s best interest in mind. I’m hearing a lot of supposition about how this new book is only being published because Harper’s protector is gone, that Harper was this fragile flower that needed watching out for, lest the big bad wolves come to gobble her all up. But isn’t this the same woman who partied with Capote and other eccentric personalities?

I postulate that Alice was keeping Harper as some kind of hostage. My conspiracy theory suggests that Alice was not looking out for Harper’s wellbeing, but trying to maintain her hold over a controllable sibling. Before Harper’s success in the literary world, Alice was a big deal. A female lawyer in a time when women were mostly relegated to the kitchen and the birthing bed. How dare Harper try to outshine Alice. The unmitigated gall!

Then Alice dies, and the wolves come. The wolves convert her masterpiece (TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD) into ebook form. What an atrocity, right? Converting the book into a digital format completely destroyed the book and ruined it for an entire generation of readers, right? The same will happen with GO SET A WATCHMAN. The sequel will lessen the original in every��way. It will damage Harper Lee’s hermit status and cause a third world war, wherein we’re all overcome and ruled by flesh-eating manatees. Our sexual organs will be removed, dried, and sprinkled over Truman Capote’s gravesite.

My point is this: You can theorize and postulate and speculate however you want. The truth of the matter is, no one knows. No one knows what kind of relationship Alice and Harper had. No one knows why Harper Lee never wrote another book. The rage of detractors is unfounded, as is the excitement of fans. This book could very well be a shitty money grab perpetrated against the wishes of a stroke victim, or it could be a buried gem.

Your guess is as good as mine.