Mikel Andrews's Blog, page 6
August 5, 2013
Episode 8 – GDND – Grownup Drinking Ninja Dudes
My other venture. Very proud of the tangent in Segment 4.
Originally posted on 2 Dudes in the Woods:
Click to download this episode!
The Dudes knuckle up as the Fisherman’s Picnic descends upon the quiet little town of Grand Marais. Neither mutants nor robots NOR old people NOR ‘Sconnies could stop this episode from packing an audio punch! Cowabunga!
Dude Brews – A very special sampler pack from across the border in New Glarus, WI.
Fish Pic! What the Dudes are looking forward to (and fearing, in some cases) about the biggest Grand Marais event of the summer. Even bigger than Wally’s birthday. (Shocker!)
Wally News – now with even MORE penis news.
D2-5 – The premiere of a new segment turns into an in-depth discussion of all things Ninja: Turtles, weapons, hopes, and dreams.
Simply Divine
Much like the Dudes this episode….
Lookin’ Good, MKA Studios
On the docket.
Striking resemblance
Mikel’s Radical Show Notes:
What’s a “Flatbread Truck?”
What’s a tonfa?
What’s that…
View original 42 more words
Episode 8 - GDND - Grownup Drinking Ninja Dudes
Reblogged from 2 Dudes in the Woods:
The Dudes knuckle up as the Fisherman's Picnic descends upon the quiet little town of Grand Marais. Neither mutants nor robots NOR old people NOR 'Sconnies could stop this episode from packing an audio punch! Cowabunga!
Dude Brews - A very special sampler pack from across the border in New Glarus, WI.
Fish Pic! What the Dudes are looking forward to (and fearing, in some cases) about the biggest Grand Marais event of the summer.
My other venture. Very proud of the tangent in Segment 4.
July 29, 2013
life on mars: a review of Zenn Scarlett
Though I’ve pondered this before, I always come back to the same question: what is the human fascination with Mars? Countless books and movies are set there, Earth receives their fictional visitors at least once a summer blockbuster, and real life missions are slated and scrapped, slated and scrapped–what is it about Mars that holds our imaginations more than Jupiter, Neptune, and Venus ever could?!
Well, needless to say, I share this obsession. I seek out the Martian landscape whenever I can, scrounging up every piece of entertainment, hit or miss. Luckily I struck on a hit with Zenn Scarlett by Christian Schoon.
When I first heard about this novel, I thought, A veterinarian in space? Awesome! I’d been itching for a good YA sci-fi book for years, something that captured the youthful ‘galactic magic’ like Bruce Coville back in the day, but also gave me what I was really craving: aliens.
This book delivered all of the above, no question. But I never expected the story I found on those pages. And I’m still reeling.
On the outside, Zenn Scarlett is the story of a young heroine of the same name. Zenn has all the usual struggles of a 17-year-old girl: homework, boys, and growing up too fast.
But then there’s that whole Working-with-Giant-Alien-Creatures thing.
Zenn’s training to be an exovet at a Martian cloister–basically an animal hospital for some of the bigger lifeforms populating the galaxy. Headed by her uncle–who also happens to be her biggest critic/guardian pro tempore–the cloister has become Zenn’s housing, school, job, and hobby. And thanks to growing civil unrest both galactic and domestic, lapses in the cloister’s containment units, and Zenn’s unusual “spells” during important operations, it hasn’t exactly been business as usual. Something’s up. Tensions have reached their boiling points. And time is running out.
On paper, it might sound like a lot of tools, tech, and jargon. But in practice, Zenn Scarlett is basically Little House on the Martian Prairie. With a dash of Heinlein’s Red Planet and twist of Whedon’s Firefly, Christian Schoon still manages to present a unique version of Mars, complete with history and mythology, but with a toned-down take. I was amazed by the subtlety of what could have been a textbook for Alien Anatomy 101. Instead of heavy scientific expository, I was treated to gentle tugs at my heartstrings. One of the most beautiful things about this book is that Zenn’s past is an absolute tragedy, but she never lets herself know it. She takes everything in stride and checks her emotional baggage at the door of every operation she performs; the definition of courage.
Miyazaki, if you’re listening: this is your next animated adventure. Zenn deserves a place among Sen, Arrietty, Nausicaa, and Kiki. Everything about this book screams vivid watercolors.
I knew from the minute I read the back cover blurb, I had to see who was behind the mind of Zenn Scarlett. Luckily, I managed to wrangle up the author himself, Christian Schoon, to talk a little shop, a little science, and perhaps finally get to the bottom of this Mars obsession…
Mikel Andrews: The man of the hour–Christian Schoon! First of all, thanks so much for the opportunity to chat about your very epic debut novel, Zenn Scarlett.
Christian Schoon: It’s my pleasure, Mikel – being an author yourself you know it’s not that tough to get a writer to talk about his/her book (we’re all easy that way). So, thanks for letting me drop by and hang out at your blog-lair to ramble on a bit about Zenn, her world and how the process of writing the novel went.
MA: Anytime. Right off the bat, the first thing that drew me to Zenn Scarlett was the emphasis on the anatomy of alien creatures. With how believably these creatures were depicted, I have to wonder if you have a background in biology, or veterinary tech–or was it all research? And, on the writer side, how’d you handle that fine line between explaining and info-dumping these complex extraterrestrial critters?
CS: Bottom line re: the creature development is that I’ve been a science/biology/ evolution geek since jr. high – and a sci fi geek since about the 3rd grade (I think Rusty’s Space Ship by Lampman was where my addiction started). Plus, I wrote for a med school paper when I was in college, and I’ve been deeply involved with equine and exotic animal rescue organizations for the past decade or so, so I’ve interacted with a number of great veterinarians dealing with a wide range of mammals, reptiles and avians. I’ve also always been fascinated by the incredible complexity and engineering of living things. It’s stunning what a few billion years of trial-and-error augmented by natural selection can achieve, from socially advanced mammals like humans, primates and cetaceans right on down through the simplest viruses. As far as info-dumping goes, I just attempted to layer in the explanatory bits in digest-able hunks, and also let dialogue carry some of that weight. For instance, Hamish, the eight-foot-tall sentient insectoid sexton at the cloister, was a noob on Mars, so he became a natural conduit for Zenn to explain things.
MA: You definitely found a way to endear me to all of Zenn’s alien patients, but do you personally have a favorite species?
CS: Well, as far as the species in the book, I fall prey to the usual authorial position of “I love ALL my kids.” But I had a lot fun creating the rikkasets since they’re like little raccoons or tarsiers but with dexterous paws that give them the ability to communicate in sign language. And sunkillers are cool since they grow to an adult wingspan of 1,500 feet and have entire sky-villages and palaces built on their backs. And of course, the “stonehorses,” or lithohippus indrae, the immense, vacuum-dwelling creatures who’ve evolved to be able to tunnel through the space-time continuum and, because of that, are harnessed by humans and others to propel vast starliners between the planets of the Local Systems Accord. I guess a big part of making these critters credible is by getting fairly specific as I sketched out bits of their evolutionary history and the environmental niches that they evolved to fill. It doesn’t take a lot of technical detail to achieve this, more like dropping hints that clue the reader in to the fact that they aren’t “monsters” or just random animals, but that they have this ecological/planetary history behind their development and that there are good reasons for them to have the forms and characteristics that they have.
MA: I was a big fan of “Rasputin.” In that terrifying nightmare kind of way….
CS: Yes, he was a later addition to the story when it became clear that Zenn needed an additional obstacle to overcome near the end of the book. So, a 30-foot predatory centipede topped by a tarantula-like fore-body with venom-dripping mandibles seemed like a good idea.
MA: So after the aliens, the second big draw of Zenn for me was the setting–Mars–although, I must say, I found your version of Mars to be really unique. Do you agree that there’s just something about Mars that captures human interest like no other when it comes to Sci-Fi? Do you have any favorite Mars books or movies that inspired you to set the book on the Red Planet?
CS: Yes, I think it’s safe to say Mars has a hefty grip on Earthly imaginations, dating back to the Babylonians, Greeks and then Romans, and their early identification of the red planet with blood, violence and war. Then, closer to our own time, as soon as we understood Mars was something like Earth, we instantly started to populate it with all manner of races and tech, some benign, some not so much. My own early bookish explorations of the planet came from Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Princess of Mars swashbucklers, and to a lessor extent, Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles (though his conception of Martians was always a little nebulous for my literalist taste…). My own take on the planetary environment led me to propose an alternate approach to terraforming the place. So, my colonists live only down in the deeper valleys, like the Valles Marineris. Using barymetric ion generators, they “roof over” their valleys with a thin, translucent layer of ionized molecules that seals in a breathable atmosphere; this lets sunlight through, but retains the necessary air and humidity to allow them to live on and farm the valley floors.
MA: What’s your “Mars Movie Guiltiest Pleasure?” It’s Total Recall, isn’t it?
CS: I did like both versions of Total Recall (even Arnold’s) but as you might have picked up on from the last question, I have to make a stand and say I think John Carter was a much better film than the critical sniping it endured. It was a popcorn flick, after all, and I was fine with that. But my very favorite film on the subject is a great old 1964 classic called Robinson Crusoe on Mars. Features an astronaut and his spider monkey Mona stranded on the planet and being forced to survive. When I was a kid, I wanted to be that guy… Hell, if Mars was like they set it up in the movie, I’d still like to be him. (and maybe Mona is the prototype for Zenn’s rikkaset Katie).
MA: John Carter definitely got a bad rap! Definitely with you there! That’s not all we have in common though–we both grew up in a small Minnesota towns. Small world! How did that setting for you play into the vast setting for Zenn? Or into you being a writer in general?
CS: Archetypal Midwestern small-town Luverne, MN, was really a solid place for a kid to come of age. A nice balance of town vs rural pursuits, and a school that was small enough that I could be a geek, plus play sports, plus play in a rock band, plus be a class officer, plus act in school plays; so, not limited to just one clique, etc. And my mom taught English at the high school (tho I never had her as a teacher), so I had an early influence in my life telling me to appreciate books and writing and language. Then, for my senior year of high school I was a foreign exchange student. Spent that year in a town outside Stockholm, Sweden, so that also figures in as far as widening of horizons. (I basically left Luverne a Republican but came back a hard-core anti-war hippie. Ch-ch-ch-chaaaanges…)
MA: Full disclosure, I’d really like to see an art book for Zenn Scarlett. Any plans for something like that? You could call it The Art of Zenn! Boom!
CS: I love the idea, and the title. Or maybe: Zenn and the Art of Megafauna Maintenance. Perhaps this is a project for a little further down the line…
MA: I’d even take some high-quality napkin sketches at this point. Those creatures were so awesome–I’d love to see how you see them!
CS: I used to do some sketching, drew advertising illustrations for a semester, did the poster art for the bands I was in, but never really pursued it. Still, I agree that it would be fun to get some images on paper. If I do, I’ll route them in your direction!
MA: Excellent! Cleverly-named art book aside, can you give us a hint of what’s next? After finishing the book–and having it take a turn I didn’t see coming, by the way–I at least need to know we haven’t heard the last of Zenn Scarlett!
CS: Well, fortunately, when Angry Robot’s YA imprint Strange Chemistry signed me, it was a two-book deal. So, Zenn’s adventures will continue in the follow-up novel, titled Zenn Scarlett: Under Nameless Stars. I’m tweaking it now. Should be out first part of next year. I’ll be sure and have my editor check in w/ you if we do a blog tour!
MA: That would be amazing! Well, thanks again for shooting the breeze about your girl Zenn, Christian. Really can’t wait for your next project, whatever it may be.
CS: As I said above, always more than willing to talk about the red-head who showed up in my imagination one day clad in oversized coveralls and perched on the snout of a very large marine predator. Thanks again for letting me stop in – cheers to you & your readers!
Relevant Data:
Zenn Scarlett on Amazon
Zenn Scarlett on Goodreads
Christian’s website
Follow @cjschoon
Follow @strangechem
June 26, 2013
Trans4mers
We have, what, like an entire year left until the next Transformers movie? And you haven’t seen any credible storyline suggestions, have you? Me neither.
That means I can still save the day! I have a few suggestions of my own. I’ve put a lot of thought on where these sequels could go and, both logically and entertainically, I think I have the answer.
**Note: I am not in any way, shape, or form saying that I won’t see the movie if they don’t go with my idea. However, my girlfriend did say that, so….credibility. But, no, I for one will stand eagerly in line for whatever is on that big screen. I am definitely not one of those douche bags that are posting Autoblasphemy–Decepticursing?– all over the message boards at aintitcool.com. Yikes. Pathetic.
Okay, so, first of all, you have the MOST slam-dunk opportunity for a title of all time:
Come on, guys. I definitely shouldn’t have had to spend my morning making that graphic. I’ve got better things to do. That’s on you.
Second of all, I found this image this morning:
That’s just awesome.
Thirdly, onto my synopsis:
The setting? 10 or 2o years in the future. Whaaaaaat?! Seriously though: I’m serious. If Mark Wahlberg is going to play Sam Witwicky, we gotta move the story this far down the line. Plus, the world needs to be changed drastically enough for this story. And, come on, it’s not like we haven’t seen this before. Remember the 80s cartoon? From the end of Season 2 ’til the movie, about a billion years passed. Not an actual billion, but enough that high school freshman Spike Witwicky suddenly had a teenage son who was sporting a hoverboard!
…and space-age quasi-futuristic clothes!
Okay, I’m getting sidetracked. So back to the plot. Well……according to IMDB, it appears Mark Wahlberg is going to play somebody named Flynn Vincent….
Okay…….
Alright, whatever, I’m still saying he’s playing the grownup version of Shia Labeouf’s character. I gotta have that Sam-Bumblebee dynamic. It grew on me. Deal with it.
Okay, so we open on a post-Dark of the Moon world where the last of the Decepticons have been rounded up and either A) exterminated or B) assimilated. All of the destruction and carnage caused by their last scheme has been repaired and, in some cases, improved upon. Why? Because the “assimilated” Decepticons are on sort of a work release program. Autobots let them live and, in return, they use their transforming abilities for good: garbage trucks, ambulances, firetrucks, even whole factories in some instances! The world has prospered under this free, unlimited labor and technology and Cybertronians have become a staple of human society. Forced rehabilitation has become complacency which has become pride.
And how is all this equilibrium possible, you might ask? Well, we already saw the Energon detectors in DotM, but upgrades have been made. Including a registry of all individual Decepticon and Autobot signatures. In fact, that’s what Sam and Bee have been up to in the time passed: sort of a Cybertronian census. It used to be fieldwork, but now it’s more office duties. Paperwork. There’s no more “Robots in Disguise”…now, there’s just The Grid: a sophisticated Person of Interest-esque piece of tech that keeps tabs on bots all around the world.
But enough time has passed that some of the aggression is returning to the Decepticons. And, in some cases, the Autobots. I mean, why are they still rebuilding our planet? Surely their crimes have been paid for? And what about the Autobots that sought refuge there long after the war–surely they owe no reparations to a battle they weren’t a part of?
On the way to Sam’s birthday dinner, he voices his worries to Bumblebee about their future in a world where there are no more factions, no more hiding. This is Sam’s first “job that matters” for which he was always striving.
Now, with the completion of The Grid, his days of hitting the road with his old pal are over. There’s no more need for them to follow leads, investigate, and rundown lowlife Decepticons anymore. This fate has been in the making for awhile. Even Bumblebee’s vehicle mode has become a little more….desk-jobby.
They’ve effectively rendered themselves out of a job, out of necessity. Bumblebee, who has always felt this way among the Autobots, is especially concerned. What’s a Scout with nothing to scout?
The evening is not lost on either of them. Sam meets up with his wife for a modest dinner–the days of beers and bars behind them–and then, with leftovers cooling in Bumblebee’s backseat, the two humans climb atop the little Autobot’s hood and have themselves a romp for old time’s sake; their backdrop, the city at night as seen from high up on the cliff where they’ve parked.
The next day all hell breaks loose. What was supposed to be just another day on the job quickly spreads into total anarchy.
The Grid goes down.
A mysterious virus perhaps? A glitch or an act of terrorism? Nobody knows. At first, the only panic is around the NEST offices. But soon the word spreads to the public at large, humans and Cybetronians alike. What happens to the social norms when The Grid no longer knows who’s who?
In a scene of absolute chaos, the world falls into widespread looting and rioting on an apocalyptic scale. Bots that have worked side by side with humans for years, cleaning the streets of garbage bins or shuttling car accident victims to hospitals, suddenly have nothing bonding them but trust. And trust only goes so far. And it’s not just former Decepticons crushing their human partners in their chest cavities, it’s a fed up generation of Autobots too.
Some good remains on both sides. Decepticons that have bonded to their comrades, Autobots that don’t mind an honest day’s work. These are the bots and humans that Optimus Prime–still the greatest Transformer of all time–rounds up for his team. The insignia on your hood doesn’t matter anymore: you do good, you are good. And a sort of martial law takes over as Ops and his new team try desperately to keep the peace in some of the bigger cities.
But Sam and Bumblebee? No way. Optimus has a special mission for them. They are to go undercover. Deep undercover, and try to find some answers. Who’s behind this? Where are the seeds of dissent being sowed? Travelling city to city, assessing who is friend and who is foe, the two finally find purpose again. Only, neither of them feel particularly good about their wish for usefulness being granted.
Meanwhile, Optimus deals with his external demons, as well as his internal ones. Is this blowback his fault? Did too much pressure on creating a functioning society built on justice lead to this eruption? Is this what ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’ really means? Where did he lose sight of that?
And on the road, Bumblebee and Sam learn some horrifying truths. A synthetic form of Energon is hitting the streets. Not only is it making this new batch of Decepticons stronger/faster/tougher, but it’s also completely undetectable by modern technology. Sam and Bee are pushed back even further than square one: this won’t be answering “Autobot or Decepticon?” like their census work.
This will be answering “Car or Robot?”
“Plane or Robot?”
“Gas Pump or Robot?”
“Needle or Haystack?”
Oh, and The Grid is just the first thing to go. The next target? Electricity in general. Now how’s that for going dark?
Then you just fill in bots as needed. I’d like to see they stylish, vain Knock Out from Prime. But maybe as more of a disgruntled medic, not quite good, but not quite evil. This guy is the new Starscream, except he’s answering to Optimus…at least, for now.
Let’s get a Wheelie back, not as the foul-mouthed RC truck from the last two flicks, but a motorcycle or scooter, with that childlike innocence from the original 80s movie.
Boom. Now that’s a plot. You have characters with motivation, a setup for action and mystery, and plenty of room for a new trilogy.
Seriously, though, any thoughts on what the new plot could be? What favorite Transformers do you want to see in this flick? Any of the usual bots need to be remodeled? What vehicles would you pick?
Transform and Sound Off!
June 24, 2013
A Discourse in Steel: a cinephile’s book review
A Discourse in Steel is a fall-off-the-wagon-and-keep-tumbling swashbuckler set in a dirty, gritty realm of both magic and crime. Paul S. Kemp not only takes us back to the world he created in The Hammer and the Blade, but also checks in with the most lovable scoundrel duo since Han Solo reunited with Lando.
Egil and Nix, worn out from their last upended scheme, have decided to ease off the throttle, take a little more time imbibing their ales, and maybe even call it quits from the treasure-hunting game entirely. But, as most scoundrels can attest, the game isn’t so eager to be quit.
The book opens with a mysterious late-night hunt, giving Egil and Nix a very Mulder/Scully feel, as the two attempt to rescue a damsel’s father from a phenomena called Blackalley. I, for one, was so entertained by this supernatural rundown, I could’ve easily followed this particular tale cover to cover, but that was Kemp just giving us a taste. From there, the story quickly spirals into a more personal quest for the two heroes, as one of their own gets caught on the wrong end of a crime syndicate.
I’ll say this without spoiling anything: the way the boys get reeled back into the seedy underbelly of Ellerth is a brilliant twist on an old crime noir trope. It certainly sets the tone for the novel, as Kemp seems to give just about every crime (and fantasy) cliche a new edge.
To give Discourse the ol’ movie pitch treatment, think of it like Boondock Saints meets Highlander, with the buddy-cop zest of Die Hard 3, and splash of, dare I say, The Goonies for color.
Perhaps that was more of a cocktail recipe, but I think that Egil and Nix would approve of that too.
Whether it’s more like a movie or a drink, I can safely say this book is the full package.
For starters, you get to experience a truly unique system of magic that gives casting a spell the same nerve-racking feel of mishandling a gun. With every ‘gewgaw’ Nix uses, you have the feeling he’s truly dipping into the ‘dark arts’ and doing something he’s not supposed to. I’ll tell you right now: you’re going to fall in love with that damn key. Trust me.
On top of that, Kemp delivers a well-thought-out crime syndicate that will leave you wanting to hear as much about the “bad” guys as the “good” guys. Maybe it’s his background in law that gives him a leg up in this area, or maybe he just watches a lot of great gangster flicks. Either way, Kemp nails it.
Furthermore, you have the honor of going on the road with two of the most likable SOBs in literature. Remember those movies I listed? Take all those great team-ups, add in MiB Agents J and K, shake vigorously, pour into a fantasy setting, and you’ll have Egil and Nix. One’s a bulky, soft-spoken “priest” that wields a pair of hammers (read: giant meat tenderizers) and the other is a smooth-talking, low-level magic-wielder with a penchant for daggers and swords. Seemingly different types, but put them together and you have some of the best, honestly funny, believable banter you’ve ever read. You don’t even need to read Hammer and the Blade to pick up on the chemistry between Egil and Nix (although I still recommend it!)
Short story: this is the fantasy you’ve been craving. If you’re looking for that typical dwarves-and-trolls, chapters-written-in-flutey-singsong crap, look elsewhere. But if you’ve been dying for some real originality in the fantasy realm–with a scene of revenge that would make even Kick-Ass‘ Hit Girl do a double take–then Discourse in Steel is your next stop.
And like all good action flicks, I think Discourse needs a soundtrack. So check out the playlist I was listening to as I read the latest tale of Egil and Nix, and pick up your copy of Paul S. Kemp’s A Discourse in Steel tomorrow (June 25th, 2013) from Angry Robot Books.
June 23, 2013
#COLLEGE and other lessons (as told in literary prose)
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww……
I really needed that. One glorious week (and some change) to recharge. What did I do on my vacation away from the North Shore? Obviously, I took a week-long college course.
You see, folks, when you live in a vacation destination, often times your vacations are what others would consider “classes” or “homework.”
Nah, I’m just kidding. I mean, I believe that to some extent, but this ‘vacation’ was a little more practical. In conjunction with picking up my first wave of books, I attended a little class called the Mississippi River Creative Writing Workshop at Saint Cloud State University. The experience was…unparalleled. But I’ll get to that in a bit. Because it wasn’t “all work, no play.”
In fact, there was a lot of play.
I woke up early Father’s Day morning, eager to hit the trail to Annandale and see my dad. I slept alright, although truthfully the butterflies were already fluttering.
While my family and friends departed Grand Rapids for the more familiar turf of the North Shore, I headed south towards my hometown, something both welcoming and alienating at the same time.
I felt a little like Empire Strikes Back to me. (Shocker, right?) Luke parting ways with the Millennium Falcon, heading for Dagobah, a place which he knew he had to go, but for a reason Han and Leia really didn’t get. My car was my X-Wing, my R2 was…well, I guess it was my new Leonardo action figure. Either way, I was off on a quest. Maybe people thought I was just taking a Creative Writing class to brush up a bit, or because I wanted to show off my newly-published novel to my former professors. They weren’t wrong, per se, but for me, deep down, it was a dry run to see if going back to school was even a possibility. I hadn’t set foot in a college classroom in seven years.
For seven years, I told myself that going back to school was out of the question. Even something as small as a workshop or single course was an impossibility. So this was a big deal. For the first time in seven years, I truly felt renewed.
Was I too old for this? Too broke? What were people going to be wearing? Where was I going to park?! I had plenty of time to contemplate all this and more on the verdant drive south. Rolling hills of green–not mountains. I saw the beauty of being able to see the opposite shore of a lake; a sight that’s pretty easy to forget living on Lake Superior.
When I finally hit town lightyears later, my dad was eager to take me out to dinner. I gave him his gift, and warmed as he looked over the back of the box, smiling. He actually liked it. The surprises didn’t stop there, either, as my dad ordered a steak at the restaurant. That part isn’t the surprise, the surprise is that he liked that too. As is! In nearly 30 years, I can’t remember my dad sending a steak back to the kitchen less than twice. It was a Fathers Day miracle!
We finished up our beers, and headed home. While I was stuffed to the gills and ready for a nap, I took to the road again and met up with my old pal Bethy. She’d been holding on to my books for me, graciously organizing the pre-orders, and periodically sending me pictures of the books (and short videos, and size comparisons). As loyal an assistant as I could ever ask for.
At her dining room table in the fading daylight, I just stood staring, taking in the sight. 100 books with my name on it, 100 covers. For the longest time, we just sat on her porch, her with a glass of wine, me thumbing through pages that I’d never seen before but imagined thousands of times. My first book, I kept thinking. This is my first book.
This is it.
Still in a little bit of shock, I blinked away the stardust and glamour, looked at Bethy and said:
“I need to go back t0 school shopping. Is Target still open?”
As it turns out, it was not. Apparently, I sat staring at those books longer than I thought. Fortunately, Wal-Mart never closes. Thank you, night owls and shopping addicts alike, for keeping a 24-hour department store open so that I could get some LEGO Star Wars stickers and those click pencils I like so much the night before class starts.
Along the way, we reminisced about our college experience–nobody knows College Mikel better than Bethy–and about life in general. How it’s changed, and how it hasn’t, and how it might. The evening was very fitting, in a way. For a few hours, that gap between when I left college and the present was sutured.
Back in the loft at my grandmother’s house, I clutched my new fully-loaded backpack to my chest and dozed off into a sleep crackling with equal parts anxiety and electricity.
Class started at 10:30 a.m. My alarm was set for 6. I woke up at 5.
I might as well have been pedaling the Flintstones car as I flew up to St. Cloud. I sucked down a Campfire Mocha at the same Caribou I was at when I was offered my book deal, and then headed over to campus.
Needless to say, I got an awesome parking spot.
At first, I wasn’t sure where I parked in relation to some of the more memorable SCSU landmarks, but I took it as a good sign when I headed up the street and found myself staring at my old dormitory, Hill-Case Hall.
Suddenly, I was 18 again. My parents had just dropped me off and I was about to meet my mysterious new roommate, the infamous Ben Sailer.
I was able to sidestep the dorm, but I can’t say I was immune to its magnetic pull. As I was several hours early, I let that pull take me on a tour of the Atwood Center, a building that any SCSU student was intimately acquainted. I toured it top to bottom, like I was traversing a fabled castle spire. There was the line Kell and I used to stand in for lunch, waiting for that iconic old woman to ask us, “Meal Plan or Husky?” And here was the checkered venue where I heard Jack Driscoll read from his book of poetry shortly before I interviewed him for the University Chronicle.
And this was how my morning went, veiled in nostalgia, until finally 10:30 rolled around. The classroom was unlocked and I, along with a couple other early birds, filtered in. I found a desk–my desk–and settled in, trying out slouches and rigid postures alike.
I was nervous, no getting past it. Even with no GPA on the line, my knee was bouncing, my knuckles white as I clutched the sides of the desk.
You’re an author now, Mikel, I tried to tell myself. You can handle one writing workshop.
My former professor, current author, and assembler of the event, Bill Meissner, entered the classroom. He’d hardly changed. His hair might have been a little whiter, and he may have squinted a bit longer at his notes, but it was still him. The same airy, quiet delivery that stabbed like thunder through student chatter, the sparrow-like dart of his gaze. As he took roll, he seemed to remember me, at least generally if not specifically. I also realized there were a some familiar faces from my upperclassman courses, even after all these years. Was it possible I hadn’t been gone as long as I thought?
The class took on the familiar flow as Bill led us through discussions and prompts. The Star Wars analogy continued: Bill was more like Yoda than I realized in his teaching style. Do or do not, there is no try. I really was on Dagobah after all.
We made it through our first author, Susan Power, a woman filled with passion and humor and who was more than willing to listen to our excerpts and questions. I can’t even describe to you the feeling of being an up-and-coming writer, sitting informally and chatting with a real, professional author about the craft.
I left the classroom with my new pals Trav and Krista, chatting about writing, homework, and the prospect of the next day. After all, this was only our first of seven authors we’d be meeting.
I was home.
As I mentioned before, it wasn’t all work. The first night in town, my old college buddy Kell came to St. Cloud for the day. We bought some Ninja Turtle action figures, threw back some brewskies, recorded a podcast, and retold college stories that might as well have happened yesterday.
Kell has always been the voice of logic in my life. My skeptic. My rock. When I first told him I was going back to school for a workshop and wanted to cram an entire college experience into one week, I thought for sure he’d snicker, roll his eyes, and tell me it was a careless use of money.
I never expected him to drop everything, take the day off of work, drive up to St. Cloud, only to stay in the seediest motel I’ve ever stayed in, just so he could say he was there for me on my first day of school. A better brother I could never hope for.
And he wasn’t the only one that came out of the woodwork. Over a whirlwind, 4-day blur, I saw lots of my “extended family.” Movies with Joe, disc golfing with Brett, happy hours with Illy, a beergarita with Cassie. After class wrapped each day, it was a veritable This Is Your Life – St. Cloud Edition.
As the workshop went on, I met prolific writer/human shot of espresso Marya Hornbacher, heard an exclusive excerpt from Alexs Pate, talked sensory detail with the award-winning Margaret Hasse, and very proudly gave a copy of Coming of Mage to another former professor/current author Shannon Olson.
Note: Not only was Shannon Olson the biggest crush I had on any teacher, she was also one of my key motivators in getting a book published–whether she realized it or not. Seven years ago, as I wrapped my Senior year at State, Shannon read my fiction final. It was a 70-something page story about a surreal few days in the life of a college grad attending the funeral of an old roommate. The assignment was supposed to be only 10 pages, tops. She said she’d grade me on the first 10 pages. A week after class, she emailed me telling me how she’d read the whole thing and how she couldn’t put it down. She said I should look into getting it published. Great, I replied. Where? But I never got a response. Even though I always wondered, I saved that email for seven years, looking at it whenever I inevitably got down on myself and my writing career. In hindsight, it was a silly question to ask a busy professor/author, and, in a way, I’m glad she never got back to me. Even though it was a cliffhanger, it was a hopeful one.
The workshop wrapped with Jenny Milchman, a fiery little mystery author. She told us about the long struggle to get her debut novel, Cover of Snow, published. She really blipped on my radar when she mentioned social media and how important it was. She talked of the three roads to getting a book published, and gave us the secret to a surefire query letter.
Then, we went out for chicken wings.
No, seriously! As if the workshop itself wasn’t phenomenal enough, the whole class, bonded by our shared crash course in creative writing, took to a local pub for a social hour. It was the Twilight Zone. It was the surface of Mars. To the left of me, a classmate offered me a pitcher of Bud Light. To my right, Jenny–an author praised by Lee Child and Harlan Coben–and I chatted about blogs, the North Shore, and sequels over appetizers.
Then, from across the table, Bill Meissner–author of the phenomenal Spirits in the Grass and a man who I still wondered if he actually remembered me–leans in and recites a line from a story I wrote for his class seven years ago.
All the accolades, and contracts, and copies, and publicity aside, that was the moment that I will never forget. The minute you realize that something you wrote stuck with somebody after all that time. That’s when I started to feel like an author.
I’ll tell you this: I’ve never really attended a writing workshop before, but I can’t imagine any of them are like this one. From the varying authors, to the casual classroom, all set along a beautiful stretch of the Mississippi, this was a truly an experience that I can’t imagine going without. I strongly encourage any up-and-coming author–or even a long-standing one stuck in a rut–to take this course next summer. Apparently, Bill is only heading up two more of these, and his style is not to be missed.
* * *
Two days later, I’m back working in the restaurant, up to my gills in hungry customers that could could care less that I took this class, that I had this experience. They just want their cheeseburger, and I can’t blame them. I’m hungry too. My uniform itches, silverware needs to be polished, and even though I need to use the restroom, Table 15 needs 50 CCs of Ranch dressing–stat!
An older couple walks in. They recognize me immediately: they were the very first table I waited on few years ago and they’ve been back every summer. They give me a warm hug and their eyes grow watery. They remember I told them I had a book in the works, and they’re here to buy two copies, provided I’m willing to sign them. The frantic atmosphere of the restaurant slows a bit and heads turn as I bring two books to their table. They ask me to have a seat while I put my autograph on the inside covers. The couple laughs and pats me on the back. They tell me they’re proud of me. And then I bring them their cheeseburger.
June 16, 2013
on the road again
Elephant in the room: My book launched just over two weeks ago and, no, I still don’t have a copy. I know it’s out there, I know people are buying it, talking about it, and checking their mailboxes looking for it, but I have yet to get my hands on one. Talk about high demand, right? The author can’t even get one!
Seriously, though, that all changes tonight. I took some time off work, spent all my profits on new tires, and have taken to the road, as it were, in order to pickup my first run.
But, first, a little detour.
With my tires literally ready to pop at any second, I loaded up Jolt with 9 days worth of luggage, podcasting equipment, my big cousin Wally, his chef knives, and his two kids and hit the road for Grand Rapids, Minnesota. Why? To cook food for a 300+ person wedding of course!
That’s right. I’ve thrown my hat into the ring as a prep cook apparently. Just another skill set for LinkedIn right?
Actually, it was a favor for a great friend/former coworker of mine, McFizzle. And it was almost more a favor to me. Road trip opportunity? Free hotel stay? You can’t ask for a better vacation! (Don’t tell him that, of course. If he asks, tell him it was a personal hell for me, filled with toil and longing.)
Channeling my dad, Wally and I got to town two days early to “get the lay of the land.” We scoped out all the hot spots (Taco Johns, movie theater, liquor stores) and hit the grocery store for essential “room snacks.” I was in paradise. I felt 10-years-old again, stocking up on pop, popcorn, and Pop-Tarts. I even bought a Ninja Turtle action figure–Leo!–just to stick with the theme.
After we were all checked in and filled up with dinner from the allegedly legendary Sawmill Inn, it was time to record a new episode of 2 Dudes in the Woods. This would prove my greatest challenge. Setting aside the fact that I would have to edit and mix this episode on the fly in between cooking for a wedding to have it a go for Monday, we needed a quiet, private room to record in that wasn’t occupied by two sugar-buzzed kids watching Nickelodeon. Luckily I was able to sweet talk the nice front desk lady of the hotel into letting us use an unoccupied room.
Just a couple hours, ma’am.
We’ll be out by 8, I promise.
No, ma’am, just us two dudes, honest.
Cut to about 10 p.m. when she comes to check if we’ve vacated the room, and finds not 2 dudes, but 4–the groom and the best man stopped in–bottles everywhere, chugging Captain Morgan, debauchery afoot. Absolute anarchy. 
We smoothed it all over and the final product is going to be a rollercoaster of big laughs and manly, clandestine–mandestine?–tears. Our best episode yet, for sure.
From there, we were all business. Mostly. We got up hella early the next morning, eschewed the continental breakfast entirely, and headed to the local YMCA kitchen to start prepping for the dinner.
Good morning, Grand Rapids!
Let me assure you: I am strictly front-of-the-house when it comes to restaurant work. I’m a pretty good little chef when I’m cooking for myself, but this was going to be a whole new monster. My cousin hands me one of his uber sharp chef knives–I have the knicks to prove it–and I go to work. Dicing peppers, julienne-ing onions, and then cutting, flouring, eggwashing, and breading about a billion chicken breasts. We put in about 9 hours in the kitchen that day, with only a TJ break to recharge us. I guess if you count the countless times we helped the senior citizens piling in for a Bingo Potluck as a break, there were a few more.
When we’d wrapped up there, I headed back to the hotel, tore into my poison of choice (Poor Man’s Long Islands) and did a bit of editing before “hitting the town.”
Then the gong went off and it was bright and early Saturday morning. Wedding Day. Team Wally had nearly quadrupled and we hit the ground running. Loading hotboxes, shuttling them across town, just in time (more or less) to fill the chafing dishes. Man, wedding guests get squirrely when they’re hungry. I know the pasta is getting low, that’s why I’m refilling it. It was a beautiful wedding, and an honor to help out one of my best buds, but there was a hairy few minutes there where I thought I was going to be dismembered and boiled for stew.
I think it’s safe to say the magic of Grand Rapids has worn off. It’s an awesome little town, but…you know that thing where you go to a wedding in a new city and you end up navigating it like 87 times? Pretty soon, over the long weekend, you kind of start to feel like you live there. And just when you’re about to buy that Don’t Hassle Me, I’m Local t-shirt, you remember you have somewhere to be.
You’re an author now, Mikel. Don’t forget it.
So, now, I hit the road again. And it’s very fitting that my next stop is my hometown to spend Father’s Day with my dad. I feel very fortunate that I get two Father’s Days in a row with my old man, as I rarely saw him during those years following college where getting off work was nearly impossible. And, no matter what we do tonight–I think pizza is on the docket–it will sure beat last year’s Father’s Day outing.
Plus I got my dad the most awesome present: The Lego City Flatbed Truck. Sssh, don’t tell him, but, really, this thing is, like, the perfect gift. According to the box, this is the toy version of my dad:
The likeness is uncanny.
Here’s my dad hooking up a winch (That sounds right) and towing a sweet convertible, signature coffee in hand.
“Hey! Hey, please don’t tow my car! I’m a sexy young business professional and I’m late for a meeting!”
“Tough, lady. Maybe next time you won’t park in a Tow-Away Zone.”
Okay, maybe I was embellishing a little towards the end there. Clearly, I’ve been watching too many Parking Wars. Plus, my dad’s too much of a softy to do something like that. But, seriously, is that not the brick version of my dad? My Father the Lego, I tells ya.
I love you, Dad, and I can’t wait to see you tonight for a little R&R before my class starts on Monday.
What’s that? I forgot to mention I’m going back to college Monday morning? Well, guess you better stay tuned! Hasta la vista, baby!
May 27, 2013
my last week unpublished
I have been waiting so long for this that now it doesn’t even feel real. In just shy of a week, my book Coming of Mage will hit the proverbial shelves. Actually, I kinda hope they’re real shelves.
In less than a week, I will be a published author.
Seven years ago, this was a sure thing in my cocky, post-graduate brain. Five years ago, in the midst of bad breakups and scooping ice cream, I didn’t see it happening. Two years ago, there were whisperings of a possibility so delicate that to even say them audibly was to shatter the whole deal. Can you imagine that? A two-year balancing act between Don’t Get Your Hopes Up and Pop the Santana DVX.
feels like this actually
The Office – “The Ultimatum” – Michael sprays Erin with champagne from Greg Bauer on Vimeo.
But now it’s here. We’re in the thick of it. Mage will be released in 5 short days.
So what have I been doing?
Well, truthfully, most of the same kind of rabble-rousing I’d be doing anyway. For starters, I’ve been pushing–ad nauseum–my Indiegogo fundraiser campaign. If you follow me on any kind of social media outlet, you’re probably sick of seeing that little short link on everything.
The infamous “8 Days Left” meme that never got published. Just for you, Gretch!
But I only had a month! Gimme a break! But I”m proud–and a little emotional, frankly–to say, I hit my fundraising goal. And then some!
A lot of people have congratulated me on this, or said it’s really cool. But I promise you that’s only a fraction of how freaking amazingly awesome that is. Can’t stress it enough–or give enough thanks. In movies–and my wildest dreams–a guy writes a book and BOOM! he’s Dean Koontz overnight. In reality, most writers have to climb the ladder like all the others. My contract required me to purchase some copies upfront. It’s not a raw deal; it guarantees my book sells at least some copies. In a way, it keeps the author invested–not just financially–in the process to have this ‘book buy’ floating over their head. You’d be surprised how many authors finish a book, get a contract, and tell their publisher, “Okay, sell it while I go to Maui. Peace!” And then their book sits in a box under their mattress because they engaged nobody.
Well, that was not going to be me. No, sir! Social media and drawing attention to myself are two of my biggest passions, so I hit the ground running.
And it worked. My upfront copies are sold and the budget for a summer of fun/creative marketing stuff is no longer stuck at $0.
So, thanks, to all those friends and followers that still are, and still do. Uncountable campaigns go unfunded and you guys had me covered almost the first week out of the gate. Unbelievable.
Outside of the eWorld, I’ve been striking up conversations with shop-0wners around town, seeing if they want to carry my book, if they’re interested in book signings, if they have any events of which I could be apart–oh, and they do. Trust me. My finger tips are becoming calloused from personalizing emails to various authors, indie book reviewers, newspapers, etc, asking them to give me a blurb or a quote or an interview–anything–just trying to blip on their radar.
I did land an awesome interview a couple weeks ago thanks to an author I met through Twitter of all places (Ha! Told you guys!) Perhaps the most humbling, most awesome thing to come out of my keyboarding crusade was that Mage will have a blurb from one of my all-time favorite authors, Matt Forbeck.
A couple years ago–right around the time I was penning Mage–I picked up a copy of Vegas Knights and was blown away. It was nothing short of inspirational, as well as a fun read, and really reminded me that we can write what we want. At a time when I was painfully pouring over every word in my sentence trying to write a bestseller, Knights just sort of elbowed me in the shoulder and said, Hey, man, be as quirky as you want, just make it good. Exactly what I needed to hear.
And now to have those names on my book? Surreal, to say the least.
So, yeah, I’ve been pretty busy with author-y type stuff. But that’s not all. Work has started up for the summer. In a few weeks, I’ll be in the throng of filling endless kid cups with apple juice and bringing cheeseburgers and mini pizzas by the armful to large-family tables at my restaurant. Glamorous, right?
I’ve also thrown my hat into the podcasting ring.
When my cousin, Wally, told me we were starting a podcast I was honestly looking for a fifth back burner to put the project on. But now that we’ve done a couple episodes of 2 Dudes in the Woods, I’ve found it to be, well, kind of fun. Wally and I have some pretty good conversations and we’re just arrogant enough to think people will want to listen to us. And, tedious as it is, it’s been a lot of fun to learn a new skill in audio recording an editing. Definitely didn’t think I could do it.
Give it a listen. If it sucks, we’ll shut up.
And on top of that, I’m still trying to pump out that dragon manuscript in time for the Strange Chemistry‘s Open Submission opportunity. You think one book would be enough, right? Sheesh! But I just can’t give up. I’ll stay on target for Coming of Mage, but I’m gonna be kicking myself if I don’t try for this one too.
For funsies, I’ve been enjoying the perks of living right smack dab in the middle of Grand Marais–aka, the night life.
The Harbor
Cannot describe how much I missed being able to walk up to the Tavern for a nightcap, or hoof it over to My Sister’s Place for a burger and a glass of wine, or even to just hike out to Artists’ Point on a whim. This new apartment with my girlfriend has been a dream come true–and Kate’s been a trooper through all this.
Oh, yeah, and I got back on the Netflix train. Like I was going to miss Season 4 of Arrested Development. Come on! Plus, did you know there’s about a billion episodes of Supernatural! It’s heaven! Well, sort of.
So, that’s me in a nutshell these days. Pretty typical, right? I’ve got a busy week ahead, so this might be my last post for awhile. But this blog has always been like a time capsule, and this is a moment I want to remember as is. Those last few moments before everything changes. In a week, people–actual multiple human beings–are going to have read my first real novel. Who knows what comes next? Accolades? Backlash? Movie deal?!
Obviously, I’m keeping myself grounded in reality.
We’ll see. Anyway, I “tore out” the first couple of pages of Mage to give you a sneak peek. Hope you enjoy, and hope you keep reading.
And, again, thanks so much for your support in all this. It ain’t easy, and a lot of times it feels like I’m shouting into an empty cavern. But you guys are listening, you’ve proved that. Means the world.
May 9, 2013
busy relaxing
Been a pretty busy week in Mikelville. Not busy working, you understand. That’s silly. No, I’m on a bit of a breather from my day job as the restaurant is closed for a few weeks for the slow season.
It’s bittersweet. On one hand, I get to recharge from a busy season and focus up on writing projects and promoting Coming of Mage.
On the other hand, the money dries up pretty quick. I’m sort of a veteran of these slow seasons by now. My first time around I was buying video games and movies right up until the day the restaurant closed. But this year I made sure I had savings, spent wisely, and paid off as many bills as I could upfront. Still, that only goes so far. Luckily, I’ll be getting back to work tomorrow as we gear up for a busy summer.
Last week, I took a break from, well, pretty much everything. The girlfriend and I took a trip down south to our respective stomping grounds–mostly for her sister’s….party. Did you guys know there’s this thing where you reveal the sex of a baby to the family via a colored cake? Like, you cut the cake and if it’s blue, it’s a boy! Apparently it’s all the rage these days, although this was one trend I hadn’t heard of. It did build a lot of hype. And I’m all about hype.
That was the main event, but there were plenty of coming attractions, so to speak. Kate and I were able to spend an evening with my dad and grandma. My grandma recently had knee surgery so she was less mobile than usual. So instead of her usual home-cooked feast, we all had the opportunity to try Annandale’s new take-and-bake pizza. My grandma maybe felt a little embarrassed by this, but, honestly, it was fun just to relax with my favorite food and a beer to celebrate my impending book release. Even Grandma took a swig–one swig–to show her support for Mage. You can’t hope for a better memory than that.
The following day was spent with Brett and Joe. If you could do a search for how many times I’ve mentioned those guys on my blog, it’d probably clock in at 8 billion. For Brett, at one point, being my mortal nemesis and Joe, at one point, being my boss–those guys have become two of the bestest friends a guy could ask for. There’s no pomp and circumstance with those guys–it’s wake up, grab a burrito, walk around the mall, hit up a couple video stores and talk shop, and–in the case of last Thursday–wait two hours for Brett to pick out a new smartphone.
But, I tell you what, man, I’d trade a few parties I’ve been to for those couple hours of conversation with Joe, sitting in the plush chairs of the Verizon store waiting area. Nobody makes me laugh like those guys. Nobody.
As a matter of fact I *did* make some child-like fingerpaint pictures to illustrate my review of IM3.
On top of that, I saw IRON MAN 3!
I love Iron Man. Typically, I’m a DC guy–but I’ll take Iron Man any day of the week.
And this third installment took Iron Man to a whole new level, creating a more relatable Tony Stark. I was very concerned how they were going to handle Iron Man post-Avengers. After all, Iron Man has always been a franchise rooted in realistic–albeit, futuristic–technology. No aliens, nothing supernatural–pretty much all the elements introduced in Avengers.
So how do you make a cocky, larger-than-life rich boy more humble?
Why give him PTSD, of course.
That’s right, the movie opens with Tony Stark reduced to an anxiety-ridden insomniac, torn apart by both his near-death experience in Avengers and, for the first time, having something worth losing: Pepper Potts.
I found that I could relate to this version of Tony Stark more than his party-soaked predecessor. Crippling pressure. Meltdowns in plain sight of others. Granted, I didn’t barely survive a suborbital fall from an extra-dimensional wormhole–but I do suffer from anxiety.
So for me this was a character I could really get behind.
Right down to watching his friend become his replacement.
With the world’s eyes all set on the star-spangled “Iron Patriot”–formerly “War Machine”–Tony’s feeling a little obsolete. I think we can all relate to that, especially in the workplace.
Cross all that with a great villain, the Mandarin, a cast of secondary characters that steal the show, and a special effects team that will leave you breathless during the credits, Iron Man 3 ends up being a big win. Now I just gotta get my hands on some of them action figures.
My movie instincts aside, the rest of the trip went swimmingly.
Filled with trips down memory lane…
…cocktails…
…small towns…
…and with nothing more important to do than show up for dinner on time. That’s something everyone needs. Vacations really are in the eye of the beholder.
So now, before it’s back to the grind, I’m going to try and hash out a manuscript. I still have dragons on the brain.
When did it get to be noon?!?!
April 27, 2013
dungeons & agents
Yesterday the wheels started spinning for me writing another novel. I mean, those wheels are always spinning, technically, but yesterday really revved the engine.
Strange Chemistry, the YA offshoot of Angry Robot, announced it’s “Unagented Submissions 2013″ promotion. What does that cacophonous moniker mean? It means that a Young Adult SF&F publisher that I adore is taking book manuscripts from people without agents.
People like me.
Typically, one’s manuscript is supposed to circulate via a literary agent–like a Jerry Maguire of the book world. As an agent is a paid profession, I definitely don’t have one. So an opportunity like this is….mint.
Immediately I opened every ideas notebook I had, plugged every ‘ideas flashdrive’ into my laptop and started searching for next big thing. Something irresistible. Undeniable, as Barry Katz might say.
How ’bout the alternate history space one? No, no, that’s more Middle Grade. Oh! The Steampunk Prohibition one! Well…it’s a little out there.
Got it! The dragon one. (As if there’s only ONE dragon one.) So I sat down to the start of what I think is the most epic story in Young Adult history….and immediately started cutting.
This can’t be here! This has to come later! This?! What was I thinking?!
So, apparently, I don’t have a solid a manuscript as I thought. So…work on something else? Or gut the dragon one, start from scratch, and power through? The stories all there in my head, just needs to get on paper. Seems silly, considering I’m almost full-time plugging my first book that comes out in a month–in a month!–but, man, oh, man.
This is that challenge that keeps me awake at night. Electric shivers. The whole bit.
So if I’m pretty scarce the next couple days, you know I’m up to my ankles in outlines and sketches. I have to give it the ol’ college try. I don’t want to spend my life wondering what could’ve been.
And this dragon story is really good. Like crazy good.
And before I get any phone calls, I love love love my current publisher, NORTH STAR PRESS. That’s why I gave them their very own LIKE box probably right to the left of here. They gave me an amazing opportunity and Coming of Mage is going to knock your socks off.
Right, Brandon?
