Stephen Kozeniewski's Blog, page 64
April 13, 2015
What the Hell am I Even Doing Here?
Sometimes I feel like I'm flailing. I'm not even going to lie. You all know me to some extent. You know I'm not usually the type to gush. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. I generally don't let my emotions out at all, except to rage against some stupidity. Maybe that's because I think that's the only thing the internet is interested in.
I find myself approaching a point of exhaustion. Maybe exhaustion isn't the right word. Maybe it's just disappointment. I know it's wrong to worry about people like Rebecca Black and Justin Bieber becoming insta-celebrities (just add YouTube!) It's not worth my time to focus on the times when lightning strikes, because that belies all the times that years and years of hard work went into someone "breaking out."
Remember the band who did "Stacy's Mom?" Yeah, I know, that's sad, I can't even think of their name now. But I do remember a tale about them. They won "Best New Artist" or some such award, which was ironic because they had been playing together for years and had released multiple albums. What the industry was saying was, "Fuck you, that time before you were popular doesn't count." And then they went on to be a one-hit wonder. Maybe that just says it all.
So here I am. In that period of doing all the work. Do you know I've kept this blog for six years? I don't think anybody reads it. This is the kind of thing that people give up usually after the first post. Seriously. I've watched friends of mine, lots of them, start a blog with all kinds of good intentions, post once, and then disappear. Supposedly most blogs never make it to six months. Here I am at twelve times that mark. Hooray!
And I was sitting here today, thinking about what to do. I've done interviews here before. I've done them straight, I've done them wacky. I've done guest posts. I've done videos. I've done pictures. I've done excerpts from my work. I've posted whole works. Novels. Screenplays. Short stories. You would think after 6 years of doing this shit, something would have gone viral, right? That's what initially made me worry about the Rebecca Blacks and Chocolate Rains of the world. I keep thinking, "Hold on, wait for the wheel, you never know when you're going to blow up." And then I never do. I haven't sold a book in months. I don't know what the point of continuing is sometimes.
But I don't think I'll stop. Despite my April Fool's Day prank (you did realize that was just a prank, right?) I don't think I'll be giving up the ghost anytime soon. The weird thing is, you go through these doldrums, and then all you need is one little thing, a nice review, maybe, or a sale, or a kind word, even, and then you're juiced and your back. I just wasn't feeling it today when I sat down to write this post. So, here, you all get a doldrum post. Knowing my luck, this will be the one that goes viral.
I find myself approaching a point of exhaustion. Maybe exhaustion isn't the right word. Maybe it's just disappointment. I know it's wrong to worry about people like Rebecca Black and Justin Bieber becoming insta-celebrities (just add YouTube!) It's not worth my time to focus on the times when lightning strikes, because that belies all the times that years and years of hard work went into someone "breaking out."
Remember the band who did "Stacy's Mom?" Yeah, I know, that's sad, I can't even think of their name now. But I do remember a tale about them. They won "Best New Artist" or some such award, which was ironic because they had been playing together for years and had released multiple albums. What the industry was saying was, "Fuck you, that time before you were popular doesn't count." And then they went on to be a one-hit wonder. Maybe that just says it all.
So here I am. In that period of doing all the work. Do you know I've kept this blog for six years? I don't think anybody reads it. This is the kind of thing that people give up usually after the first post. Seriously. I've watched friends of mine, lots of them, start a blog with all kinds of good intentions, post once, and then disappear. Supposedly most blogs never make it to six months. Here I am at twelve times that mark. Hooray!
And I was sitting here today, thinking about what to do. I've done interviews here before. I've done them straight, I've done them wacky. I've done guest posts. I've done videos. I've done pictures. I've done excerpts from my work. I've posted whole works. Novels. Screenplays. Short stories. You would think after 6 years of doing this shit, something would have gone viral, right? That's what initially made me worry about the Rebecca Blacks and Chocolate Rains of the world. I keep thinking, "Hold on, wait for the wheel, you never know when you're going to blow up." And then I never do. I haven't sold a book in months. I don't know what the point of continuing is sometimes.
But I don't think I'll stop. Despite my April Fool's Day prank (you did realize that was just a prank, right?) I don't think I'll be giving up the ghost anytime soon. The weird thing is, you go through these doldrums, and then all you need is one little thing, a nice review, maybe, or a sale, or a kind word, even, and then you're juiced and your back. I just wasn't feeling it today when I sat down to write this post. So, here, you all get a doldrum post. Knowing my luck, this will be the one that goes viral.
April 10, 2015
BRAVE NEW GIRLS Illustration Reveal!
Everybody, take a look at this beautiful illustration for my story in BRAVE NEW GIRLS, an anthology of YA sci-fi stories in support of encouraging young girls to go into STEM careers:
This is courtesy of Adrian DeFuria, a fine young artist and all-around nice guy.
So what's going on here? Well, I was hoping by this point that my sci-fi novel THE HYENA would've been published shortly before or around the same time as "The Keys to the Stars," which serves as a sort of prequel to that universe. There are even a few Easter eggs in the short which will now go unappreciated until the novel finds a home.
I'll try not to spoil the story, but this delightful creature is called a Clorofin. The Clorofin race was not, in fact, introduced in the first HYENA novel (well, I think they may have been mentioned) but a major Clorofin character will be introduced in book two. So the short was supposed to be both a prequel to the first novel and an introduction to a species that will become more prominent in the second. But, of course, the short stands on its own, and I hope you all will enjoy it!
This is courtesy of Adrian DeFuria, a fine young artist and all-around nice guy.
So what's going on here? Well, I was hoping by this point that my sci-fi novel THE HYENA would've been published shortly before or around the same time as "The Keys to the Stars," which serves as a sort of prequel to that universe. There are even a few Easter eggs in the short which will now go unappreciated until the novel finds a home.
I'll try not to spoil the story, but this delightful creature is called a Clorofin. The Clorofin race was not, in fact, introduced in the first HYENA novel (well, I think they may have been mentioned) but a major Clorofin character will be introduced in book two. So the short was supposed to be both a prequel to the first novel and an introduction to a species that will become more prominent in the second. But, of course, the short stands on its own, and I hope you all will enjoy it!
April 8, 2015
"J" is for "Jokes"
So, last week Patton Oswalt tweeted a story in 53 tweets regarding the Trevor Noah kerfluffle. And by "kerfluffle" I mean Noah, the newly anointed host of "The Daily Show" has tweeted some racist, sexist, and anti-Semitic things over the years. Boiled down to contrarian viewpoints, one side says "A public figure given such an important role shouldn't be a bigot, and casual statements like this prove an inherent bigotry" and the other side says, "Comedians push boundaries, and besides how are you going to punish somebody for something they said on something as ephemeral as Twitter?" Or something like that.
Oswalt takes a more nuanced view of the discussion. Well, anyway, he exposes it in satire. It's well worth reading all 53 tweets, especially since it'll take you all of four minutes, but his basic argument is "Humor is subtle, and finding something funny is a matter of audience and context, and if you really want to go down the rabbit hole all humor, if not all human behavior, is ultimately mean-spirited and objectionable if you want to find it so."
Oswalt raises an interesting point, in that people can take offense to anything if they care to, and similarly have a capacity to accept just about any horseshit if they care to. It's at the root of tribalism, after all. If I like a guy, if a guy is good, then anything he does is good, even if it's objectively wrong, and if I dislike a guy, anything he does is wrong, even if it's objectively right. So, yeah, animal rights advocates could take umbrage at any old chicken-crossing-the-road joke and advocates for the hearing impaired could get pissy about knock-knock jokes because they belittle the real-life struggle. The path of which has a tail that tends towards the silly and ultimately the preposterous.
But then again...
We're not talking about knock-knock jokes and chicken jokes, are we? We're talking about real, pretty honest-to-God anti-Semitic and racist and misogynistic jokes. Said in a public forum, no less. So the whole "man throwing butter out a window" crack seems a bit disingenuous. Yes, people can take umbrage at any silly thing, and do all the time, but it's not like in this case people are taking umbrage at silly shit. They're taking umbrage at bigotry. It's not like the KKK is forming a lynch mob and people are demonstrating against it, but it's not like a wacky, "Three's Company"-style misunderstanding either.
So. More compelling is Oswalt's argument about context. In context we are talking about a comedian making jokes to his self-selected audience. So, there's some value in this. No one's making anyone follow Noah on Twitter. And anyone who follows his Twitter feed and realizes his jokes are a bit risqué for them can leave any damn time. And comedians!
Let me tell you about comedians. I know some comedians in real life and on social media, and I can tell you one thing they all seem to share in common: they feel that comedy is sacrosanct. Comedians sincerely believe that they should be allowed to joke about anything, no matter how foul, no matter how contrary to the social mores of the time, no matter how sacrilegious, sexist, racist, or otherwise. Their raison d'être, to hear them tell it, is to be Diogenes, so far outside the system that no one can attack them, shining a light on all of society's little flaws. With poop jokes.
I actually understand this argument. It is, honestly, what comedians do. To elicit humor you need to outrage, and people today are far harder to outrage than almost ever. And I think it comes from a shared coastal spiritual home. Comedians come up in either New York or LA, which are metropolitan areas, where race and gender and sexuality are in your face as a part of everyday life. Then you take that show on the road and maybe it doesn't play in Peoria or Luverne. And then you say, "Look, this is what I do, don't fucking censor me, I'm a comedian, if you don't get it, don't watch, and also fuck you."
But we're also living in 2015. And at the risk of disappearing up my own asshole, 2015 strikes me as a unique moment in history. In the '90s we were vaguely aware of making an attempt to not hurt other people's feelings. We called it being "politically correct." And it was largely phony, if possibly good-hearted. Now, though, we know, instantaneously and with a deafening roar, what actually bothers people. Through the wonders of the internet and that selfsame Twitter I now know what hurts people's feelings, what microaggressions are, what #yesallwomen suffer through. I know about police abuse and white privilege and systemic sexism and all the things which in the era of old media would literally have been invisible to me.
So. Context. Here's a context. With my old friends who I came up with in high school and everything, we're horrible to each other. We call one another every racist term in the book, tell jokes, whatever. Because...this is in context, mind you...the love is there. It's proven through years of having one another's backs. Crossing a line with them is essentially impossible.
What about at work? At work, I am a mask, a cipher. No one knows me. They don't know I write, they don't know anything about me fundamentally. I wouldn't crack wise with someone at work except maybe about those kooky hacks in HR. At work, crossing a line is so possible, it's almost a certainty. If you're not professional in all your dealings, you will, at some point, cross a line. And potentially face termination.
Now, here's an interesting one. A new friend of mine, a minority, one who I don't have years and years of having her back. We joke, we let our guard down, but there's no essential unspoken understanding. One time we're talking about this and I say, "Is it really that big a deal if I tell a joke about minorities?" And this is where she got me really thinking. She said, "Maybe not. Maybe it doesn't bug me. But maybe it does. Maybe you say something that really bugs me. Then what? Then if I don't laugh along, I become the bad sport. Even though you put me in that position. So what are you going to do? Are you going to put me in that position?"
That really struck me and stuck with me. And I could get into how words have power and insults become problematic (sorry, Patton) when there's a power differential.
Oswalt takes a more nuanced view of the discussion. Well, anyway, he exposes it in satire. It's well worth reading all 53 tweets, especially since it'll take you all of four minutes, but his basic argument is "Humor is subtle, and finding something funny is a matter of audience and context, and if you really want to go down the rabbit hole all humor, if not all human behavior, is ultimately mean-spirited and objectionable if you want to find it so."
Oswalt raises an interesting point, in that people can take offense to anything if they care to, and similarly have a capacity to accept just about any horseshit if they care to. It's at the root of tribalism, after all. If I like a guy, if a guy is good, then anything he does is good, even if it's objectively wrong, and if I dislike a guy, anything he does is wrong, even if it's objectively right. So, yeah, animal rights advocates could take umbrage at any old chicken-crossing-the-road joke and advocates for the hearing impaired could get pissy about knock-knock jokes because they belittle the real-life struggle. The path of which has a tail that tends towards the silly and ultimately the preposterous.
But then again...
We're not talking about knock-knock jokes and chicken jokes, are we? We're talking about real, pretty honest-to-God anti-Semitic and racist and misogynistic jokes. Said in a public forum, no less. So the whole "man throwing butter out a window" crack seems a bit disingenuous. Yes, people can take umbrage at any silly thing, and do all the time, but it's not like in this case people are taking umbrage at silly shit. They're taking umbrage at bigotry. It's not like the KKK is forming a lynch mob and people are demonstrating against it, but it's not like a wacky, "Three's Company"-style misunderstanding either.
So. More compelling is Oswalt's argument about context. In context we are talking about a comedian making jokes to his self-selected audience. So, there's some value in this. No one's making anyone follow Noah on Twitter. And anyone who follows his Twitter feed and realizes his jokes are a bit risqué for them can leave any damn time. And comedians!
Let me tell you about comedians. I know some comedians in real life and on social media, and I can tell you one thing they all seem to share in common: they feel that comedy is sacrosanct. Comedians sincerely believe that they should be allowed to joke about anything, no matter how foul, no matter how contrary to the social mores of the time, no matter how sacrilegious, sexist, racist, or otherwise. Their raison d'être, to hear them tell it, is to be Diogenes, so far outside the system that no one can attack them, shining a light on all of society's little flaws. With poop jokes.
I actually understand this argument. It is, honestly, what comedians do. To elicit humor you need to outrage, and people today are far harder to outrage than almost ever. And I think it comes from a shared coastal spiritual home. Comedians come up in either New York or LA, which are metropolitan areas, where race and gender and sexuality are in your face as a part of everyday life. Then you take that show on the road and maybe it doesn't play in Peoria or Luverne. And then you say, "Look, this is what I do, don't fucking censor me, I'm a comedian, if you don't get it, don't watch, and also fuck you."
But we're also living in 2015. And at the risk of disappearing up my own asshole, 2015 strikes me as a unique moment in history. In the '90s we were vaguely aware of making an attempt to not hurt other people's feelings. We called it being "politically correct." And it was largely phony, if possibly good-hearted. Now, though, we know, instantaneously and with a deafening roar, what actually bothers people. Through the wonders of the internet and that selfsame Twitter I now know what hurts people's feelings, what microaggressions are, what #yesallwomen suffer through. I know about police abuse and white privilege and systemic sexism and all the things which in the era of old media would literally have been invisible to me.
So. Context. Here's a context. With my old friends who I came up with in high school and everything, we're horrible to each other. We call one another every racist term in the book, tell jokes, whatever. Because...this is in context, mind you...the love is there. It's proven through years of having one another's backs. Crossing a line with them is essentially impossible.
What about at work? At work, I am a mask, a cipher. No one knows me. They don't know I write, they don't know anything about me fundamentally. I wouldn't crack wise with someone at work except maybe about those kooky hacks in HR. At work, crossing a line is so possible, it's almost a certainty. If you're not professional in all your dealings, you will, at some point, cross a line. And potentially face termination.
Now, here's an interesting one. A new friend of mine, a minority, one who I don't have years and years of having her back. We joke, we let our guard down, but there's no essential unspoken understanding. One time we're talking about this and I say, "Is it really that big a deal if I tell a joke about minorities?" And this is where she got me really thinking. She said, "Maybe not. Maybe it doesn't bug me. But maybe it does. Maybe you say something that really bugs me. Then what? Then if I don't laugh along, I become the bad sport. Even though you put me in that position. So what are you going to do? Are you going to put me in that position?"
That really struck me and stuck with me. And I could get into how words have power and insults become problematic (sorry, Patton) when there's a power differential.
April 6, 2015
Alt Covers
Did you know before I was published a friend of mine, Greg Lynn, created mockups of the covers for BRAINEATER and GHOUL? Let's take a look...at what could have been...
April 3, 2015
April 1, 2015
"I" is for "Inescapable"
Well, everyone, if you've talked with me in any meaningful way recently you've probably known this was coming for quite a while, but I wanted to make the decision final with this announcement. It's with a fulsome heart that I must face the inescapable truth. After some heavy soul-searching and long discussions with my family and closest friends, I've decided to give up writing. I'll be pulling all of my books from Amazon and all the other sales venues at midnight tonight. You have until then to get your last few copies if you so choose. After that they'll become I suppose you would say "collector's items."
I suppose you're wondering what prompted this. There's no easy reason why. I could say the deafening silence of agents, critics, and the audience is a sure sign from the universe not to continue. If you're reading this, of course, I can assure you that you were not the problem. I am eternally grateful to my loyal fans. It's not because of you that I'm giving up, but it is because of you that I've persevered as long as I have. I could say the muse has abandoned me, and I haven't gotten any real pleasure from my art in a long time. I could even say that what was supposed to be a fun hobby has gotten in the way of work, family, and the real important things in life. There's so much that I'm not getting done right now that needs to be done. I can't get fired from my day job because I'm always off doing interviews or soliciting reviews or writing that next chapter. I can't let my marriage or friendships fumble out of my hands because I'm so distracted by my writing. Imaginary characters can never take the place of real people.
The truth is it's quite a number of reasons and yet, at the same time, none at all. There are a million little reasons and yet there's really just one big one: I don't have whatever "it" is that is required to make it in this business.
Some people are great. I've met some greats even just in my short time in this business. Those with the chutzpah, the tenacity, the will, and the sheer talent to succeed. To those of you reading this (and I think you know who you are, but if you don't I'll probably be contacting you directly shortly) thank you for all the inspiration. I know you'll do well. And I hate to leave your hallowed ranks but it's something that has to happen now.
So, if you are reading this, and you've read my books or just followed along with me on this crazy career path, I just want to say thanks for all your support over these past few crazy years. I'm sorry I couldn't make a go of it, but sometimes these things happen, and it doesn't for one instant change how deeply each and every one of you fans has touched my heart. Goodbye and good luck, everybody! (Don't worry - the kids still say that.)
March 30, 2015
Review: EVER NEAR by Melissa MacVicar
Hail, blogketeers! As you know from my
guest policy
(you have read my guest policy, right?) I'm not accepting review requests at this time, and I don't really read books quickly enough to ever turn this into a review blog. That being said, I do owe favors all around town, so from time to time I do actually review books, and, when they're particularly deserving, crosspost to the blog. Melissa MacVicar is a good friend who you may recall from our "rumble" two years ago. I finally got around to reading her book and wouldn't you know it, it's pretty good. So let's have a look.
About EVER NEAR
Love is ever near. But trouble is never far.
Nantucket Island is haunted, but only sixteen-year-old Jade Irving knows it. Ignoring the disturbing spirits isn’t an option, because one dwells in the enormous historic home she shares with her newly blended family. Jade is finding it more and more difficult to explain away Lacey’s ghostly, anguished tantrums, especially with Charlie, her gorgeous, almost step-brother, living right across the hall.
When a power-hungry ghost hunter tracks down Jade and blackmails her, Jade’s secret teeters on the edge of exposure, and her entire future hangs in the balance. If anyone finds out Jade can talk to ghosts, her life will be forever changed.
Can she save herself, free Lacey, and hang on to her tenuous connection with Charlie? Or will everything she ever wanted slip through her fingers?
Purchase it on Amazon or Audible!
Review
You should know this about me: I think ghosts are total horseshit. The idea of spirits and specters and hauntings and exorcisms and all that stuff are so patently absurd to me that I just can't even take it seriously.
You can imagine, therefore, that when it comes to paranormal fiction I have a high bar. No one's going to get the "ah, but you've heard creaking in your attic late at night" benefit-of-the-doubt kind of thing from me. And that's what makes Melissa MacVicar's debut EVER NEAR so great.
This is exactly what I imagine ghosts and mediums (media?) would act like in the real world. Jade Irving is a fairly ordinary sixteen-year-old girl who sees ghosts every now and then and wishes she didn't. Teenagers don't have time to be dealing with ghosts and shit. Jade's busy trying to carry on a steamy, semi-taboo affair with her stepbrother. Actually, the way MacVicar presents it makes me wonder why more step-siblings don't end up together. Hell, maybe they do. I dunno.
But back to the ghost thing. The only person who even remotely believes Jade is a complete charlatan. Martin is on of those ghost tour guys you see in every resort town, complete with a top hat and an overexaggerated style. Oh, which reminds me. MacVicar, a native of Nantucket, presents us with her home island as a world apart. We've all been to beach towns during the summer, and no doubt wondered idly what it got like when the tourists (in Cape May they call us "shoobies" and in Natucket, apparently, "Chads") are gone. This is the milieu we're introduced into, and I think it fits in well thematically with what's going on in Jade's life. There's the side you present to the world, and then there's the real you.
And the ghosts. Remember I said I think ghosts are horseshit? I think it's because we tend to project our own wants and desires on what we perceive as "ghosts." The ghosts of EVER NEAR have their own wants and desires, personalities, even including, notably, a Civil War-era ghost who doesn't even want to cross over because he fears the wrath of all the people he's killed. Makes sense, doesn't it? These aren't the cookie cutter ghosts of most of pop culture who are stuck bemoaning their fate because they didn't accomplish XYZ in their lives until Jennifer Love Hewitt shows up and solves their glib little problem so they can pass over.
MacVicar's ghosts have as much character as the living members of her cast. With a strong love story, excellent characters, a glimpse at a very unusual setting, and a unique take on the paranormal, EVER NEAR is top notch. This is supposed to be YA, but this OA didn't even notice because it's such an engrossing novel.
About Melissa MacVicar
Melissa MacVicar has lived most of her life on Nantucket Island. A true native, she’s able to trace her ancestry back to the island’s first settlers. After attending The Pingree School, she went on to graduate from Franklin and Marshall College with a degree in English. She also received a master’s degree from Boston University School of Social Work. When she turned forty, Melissa decided to renew her adolescent passion for fiction writing. Having once thought writing a novel to be an impossible dream, she’s proud to be achieving her childhood ambition.
Melissa currently lives with her husband and two children on Nantucket where she teaches 7th grade Writing Composition. When she isn’t teaching, parenting, and writing, Melissa enjoys running, eating expensive chocolate, and watching her beloved Patriots.
You can follow her on Twitter, Facebook, and her website.
About EVER NEAR
Love is ever near. But trouble is never far.
Nantucket Island is haunted, but only sixteen-year-old Jade Irving knows it. Ignoring the disturbing spirits isn’t an option, because one dwells in the enormous historic home she shares with her newly blended family. Jade is finding it more and more difficult to explain away Lacey’s ghostly, anguished tantrums, especially with Charlie, her gorgeous, almost step-brother, living right across the hall.
When a power-hungry ghost hunter tracks down Jade and blackmails her, Jade’s secret teeters on the edge of exposure, and her entire future hangs in the balance. If anyone finds out Jade can talk to ghosts, her life will be forever changed.
Can she save herself, free Lacey, and hang on to her tenuous connection with Charlie? Or will everything she ever wanted slip through her fingers?
Purchase it on Amazon or Audible!
Review
You should know this about me: I think ghosts are total horseshit. The idea of spirits and specters and hauntings and exorcisms and all that stuff are so patently absurd to me that I just can't even take it seriously.
You can imagine, therefore, that when it comes to paranormal fiction I have a high bar. No one's going to get the "ah, but you've heard creaking in your attic late at night" benefit-of-the-doubt kind of thing from me. And that's what makes Melissa MacVicar's debut EVER NEAR so great.
This is exactly what I imagine ghosts and mediums (media?) would act like in the real world. Jade Irving is a fairly ordinary sixteen-year-old girl who sees ghosts every now and then and wishes she didn't. Teenagers don't have time to be dealing with ghosts and shit. Jade's busy trying to carry on a steamy, semi-taboo affair with her stepbrother. Actually, the way MacVicar presents it makes me wonder why more step-siblings don't end up together. Hell, maybe they do. I dunno.
But back to the ghost thing. The only person who even remotely believes Jade is a complete charlatan. Martin is on of those ghost tour guys you see in every resort town, complete with a top hat and an overexaggerated style. Oh, which reminds me. MacVicar, a native of Nantucket, presents us with her home island as a world apart. We've all been to beach towns during the summer, and no doubt wondered idly what it got like when the tourists (in Cape May they call us "shoobies" and in Natucket, apparently, "Chads") are gone. This is the milieu we're introduced into, and I think it fits in well thematically with what's going on in Jade's life. There's the side you present to the world, and then there's the real you.
And the ghosts. Remember I said I think ghosts are horseshit? I think it's because we tend to project our own wants and desires on what we perceive as "ghosts." The ghosts of EVER NEAR have their own wants and desires, personalities, even including, notably, a Civil War-era ghost who doesn't even want to cross over because he fears the wrath of all the people he's killed. Makes sense, doesn't it? These aren't the cookie cutter ghosts of most of pop culture who are stuck bemoaning their fate because they didn't accomplish XYZ in their lives until Jennifer Love Hewitt shows up and solves their glib little problem so they can pass over.
MacVicar's ghosts have as much character as the living members of her cast. With a strong love story, excellent characters, a glimpse at a very unusual setting, and a unique take on the paranormal, EVER NEAR is top notch. This is supposed to be YA, but this OA didn't even notice because it's such an engrossing novel.
About Melissa MacVicar
Melissa MacVicar has lived most of her life on Nantucket Island. A true native, she’s able to trace her ancestry back to the island’s first settlers. After attending The Pingree School, she went on to graduate from Franklin and Marshall College with a degree in English. She also received a master’s degree from Boston University School of Social Work. When she turned forty, Melissa decided to renew her adolescent passion for fiction writing. Having once thought writing a novel to be an impossible dream, she’s proud to be achieving her childhood ambition.
Melissa currently lives with her husband and two children on Nantucket where she teaches 7th grade Writing Composition. When she isn’t teaching, parenting, and writing, Melissa enjoys running, eating expensive chocolate, and watching her beloved Patriots.
You can follow her on Twitter, Facebook, and her website.
March 27, 2015
Could You Be in the Presence of EEEvil? (Guest Post by Angela V. Cook, author of INTO A MILLION PIECES)
Welcome, blogketeers! Today we've got a very special treat for you, the author of INTO A MILLION PIECES, James Frey! Oops, I mean, Angela V. Cook. Angela has agreed to soothe my lingering fears that she may, in fact, be an unholy demon from the bowels of Hell. Make sure to stick around until the end for a giveaway from our mutual press, Red Adept Publishing.
About Angela V. Cook
Angela V. Cook lives a very unexciting, but never boring, life with her husband and two children just outside of Detroit. Like most writers, she’s been making up stories for as long as she can remember and can’t imagine a life that doesn’t involve creating worlds.
Angela loves to write novels for teens because it’s the best outlet for her sarcastic personality, immature sense of humor, and love of romantic firsts.
Prove to me that you're not really a succubus, Angela.
When I read what Stephen wanted this guest post to be about, I went through three stages of acceptance. First, there was the, oh-my-god-you’ve-got-to-be-freakin’-kidding-me stage. Then I thought, is this some sort of Red Adept hazing ritual? Stephen and I are pub sibs, after all, and he is sort of the class clown of the group. (I'm the what?!?!?!) Yep, definitely hazing. But then, somewhere in between taking the plastic wrapper off my Tombstone frozen pizza and tossing it in the oven (I’ll take my Mother of the Year Award now, thank you), I came to accept the challenge. I hummed the Rocky theme in my head and thought, I’m a writer, dammit! I can do this!
The only problem was, the more I tried to come up with evidence to prove I wasn’t a succubus, the more I realized I didn’t have any! In fact, there was only one logical conclusion: I just might be a succubus.
First, there’s the undeniable truth: my husband’s physical condition has deteriorated since marrying me. He was the perfect image of health and vigor before our vows, but soon after, things started going very, very wrong. Things like hair loss and the gaining of a few pounds could be attributed to the normal aging process, but his doctors could not explain why he was suffering from the same types of ailments that usually riddle men twice his age. Surely, there must something sinister going on. Why else would a man in his mid-thirties be told he had the back of seventy-year-old man? Something was causing his bones to weaken. It was almost as if the life was being sucked right out of him. *insert evil, maniacal laughter*
Exhibit number two: my children. Many a time, I have posted comments on Facebook about my children acting like devils. Could it be that they truly are demon spawn? I’m almost positive my son gains pleasure from seeing me so upset that blood vessels start popping out on my forehead, and like a child of Satan, I do believe he feeds off of my anger and displeasure and grows stronger from it.
Then there’s my daughter. As a toddler, she was cute and lovable, but now I see it was just a ploy to reel me in, to gain my trust. Things changed a few years ago when this sweet, little angel began to slowly transform into a relentless she-devil. My daughter has never spewed green vomit, and I don’t think her head has ever done a three sixty, but she has screamed so loud that animals outside howled and glass shattered (okay, so the glass shattered because she knocked her mirror over while screaming—tomato/tomahto).
I think the evidence proves that I just might be a succubus—maybe not one hundred percent like my main character in INTO A MILLION PIECES—but I think there definitely might be some succubus blood running through my veins.
About INTO A MILLION PIECES
Allison McKready is a succubus. So is her twin sister. But while Allison spends her summer break hiding in the library behind her Goth makeup, Jade fools around as often as she can. Allison can’t believe Jade would ignore their mother’s fatal example so recklessly, but concealing a cursed bloodline and its dangerous effects is far from Allison’s only problem. Mean girl Julie’s snob mob is determined to ruin her summer, and Aunt Sarah’s Bible thumping is getting louder. Only her new friend, Ren Fisher, offers safe haven from the chaos of her life.
When one of Jade’s risky dates leads to humiliation and sudden tragedy, Allison reels, and Ren catches her. But as her feelings for him grow, so does her fear that she’ll hurt him—or worse—in an unguarded moment. The choice is coming—love him or save him—but Allison might not live to make it. One way or another, the curse will have its due.
Read an excerpt here
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March 25, 2015
"H" is for "Hustlin'"
People pirate shit. A lot. The coming of the Information Age has brought with it a bevy of riches, but also a cornucopia of horseshit. I can google what time it is in New Zealand, tweet at Jason O’Mara, and watch a Youtube video of how to tie a Full Windsor all in a matter of seconds. On the other hand, there’s cyberbullying, trolls, the constant threat of becoming an internet pariah, and, of course, piracy.
I should probably take a hard and fast stand against piracy. Probably should parrot the party line about it. You remember those old commercials (I say “old,” but, of course, we’re talking about like 2007, not, like, 1952) where they used to say, “You wouldn’t steal a car, would you? You wouldn’t rape a grandmother, would you? Then why would you download a movie?!?!?!?!?!?!?”
I mean, I exaggerate here (slightly) but the point of those commercials was clear: stealing is stealing is stealing, and trying to differentiate between stealing a physical DVD and downloading a pirated movie is just splitting hairs. Except…that’s horseshit. I mean, you can intellectualize it to yourself that way. “By not paying for the goods or services that I generated, that person is in effect taking money from my pocket. Therefore: he stole from me.”
This doesn't really have anything to do with the blogpost, except that I think people are more likely to click on a post with a picture of Jennifer Lawrence. And the title of the post is "H" is for "Hustlin'" since I couldn't really come up with anything better. And "American Hustle" is a movie you might pirate. Or buy the correct way.
The problem with that is the idea of money you would certainly have spent versus money you might have simply saved. In other words, since it's easy for me to download, say, "Pee Wee's Big Adventure," perhaps I do. But if it hadn't been available, would I have immediately gone to the store and purchased it on DVD? No, probably not.
Of course, there are some instances where piracy does equate to stealing. If my desire to see "Fifty Shades of Grey" is so strong that I would have paid for it even if it wasn't available to pirate, then I did indeed withhold money that theoretical would have gone to all the people who worked so hard to bring us that fine piece of cinema.
And then there are questions of residual payment. Suppose I pirated the first "Harry Potter" book, then after that I buy every "Harry Potter" book, stand in line for every movie, and visit the theme park multiple times, because pirating it made me a fan for life. In a way, I ended up giving a lot more money to J.K. Rowling over the course of my life than if I hadn't pirated it, right? I'm not saying it's all shades of grey (ha!), but it's certainly not as black and white as those old "Reefer Madness" style commercials would've had us believe.
And, I admit, the average Pirate Bay user is not thinking about these things in an ethical/moral/philosophical sense. It’s like pure id: see, want, take. “I wanna see this week’s 'Game of Thrones,' it’s free online, let me DL it.” There’s a component whereby this is a terrible thing, because taken en masse it effectively devalues art to the point where people treat all art as though it were free.
However, is internet piracy what’s really devaluing content? Admittedly, that’s a component of it. But I would argue that what’s really devaluing content is that everyone is pretty much giving it away for free. There was a time when if you wanted to watch a video you had to either pay up through the basically direct pay system of paying for a movie ticket, which feeds the studios, which feeds the actors, writers, directors, and crew, or you had to watch advertiser-supported television, which was a more indirect method, but everyone still got paid by their advertisers. Now, though, I can get a half hour of entertainment on YouTube for free from a bunch of jackasses who think falling over is funny. Or popping zits. Or whatever.
That’s free content. Genuinely free. And blogs are free and websites are free, and there are free novels out there, and the equivalent of free novels in terms of length, if that’s the kind of thing I’m into. And free games and, well, free everything really. The internet itself devalues content because there’s so goddamn much of it. In this new paradigm I don’t really blame people for not wanting to pay for content just because the intellectual property owner wants to charge.
And, like I said, as an intellectual property owner I should probably be solidly on one line in this debate. I should probably shout, “Pay me what I’m worth!” from the rooftops. But I'm a pragmatist. And I can also look to the past for exemplars. Metallica did not come out of pounding and pounding against music downloading looking good. They looked like entitled assholes, which, whatever the merits of their arguments, did not help their argument. Nobody likes to listen to an entitled asshole, no matter how morally upright their argument is.
So here's a proposal I came up with. It would be cool if it took off, and I think it splits the difference between Lars Ulrich raging against everyone who's ever pirated an episode of "Doctor Who" they missed and pretending like piracy won't ultimately ruin it for everybody. One of the things that's most important to content creators is reviews. So what if it became common courtesy that when you pirate a book or a movie or a CD, since you didn't pay for it you go to Amazon and review it? It probably would take you exactly as long as DLing it did to leave a twenty word review, even if it's a bad one. (Actually, I think Amazon may have rescinded the twenty word minimum.)
What do you think? Best compromise ever or total cop-out? Let me know in the comments.
I should probably take a hard and fast stand against piracy. Probably should parrot the party line about it. You remember those old commercials (I say “old,” but, of course, we’re talking about like 2007, not, like, 1952) where they used to say, “You wouldn’t steal a car, would you? You wouldn’t rape a grandmother, would you? Then why would you download a movie?!?!?!?!?!?!?”
I mean, I exaggerate here (slightly) but the point of those commercials was clear: stealing is stealing is stealing, and trying to differentiate between stealing a physical DVD and downloading a pirated movie is just splitting hairs. Except…that’s horseshit. I mean, you can intellectualize it to yourself that way. “By not paying for the goods or services that I generated, that person is in effect taking money from my pocket. Therefore: he stole from me.”
This doesn't really have anything to do with the blogpost, except that I think people are more likely to click on a post with a picture of Jennifer Lawrence. And the title of the post is "H" is for "Hustlin'" since I couldn't really come up with anything better. And "American Hustle" is a movie you might pirate. Or buy the correct way.The problem with that is the idea of money you would certainly have spent versus money you might have simply saved. In other words, since it's easy for me to download, say, "Pee Wee's Big Adventure," perhaps I do. But if it hadn't been available, would I have immediately gone to the store and purchased it on DVD? No, probably not.
Of course, there are some instances where piracy does equate to stealing. If my desire to see "Fifty Shades of Grey" is so strong that I would have paid for it even if it wasn't available to pirate, then I did indeed withhold money that theoretical would have gone to all the people who worked so hard to bring us that fine piece of cinema.
And then there are questions of residual payment. Suppose I pirated the first "Harry Potter" book, then after that I buy every "Harry Potter" book, stand in line for every movie, and visit the theme park multiple times, because pirating it made me a fan for life. In a way, I ended up giving a lot more money to J.K. Rowling over the course of my life than if I hadn't pirated it, right? I'm not saying it's all shades of grey (ha!), but it's certainly not as black and white as those old "Reefer Madness" style commercials would've had us believe.
And, I admit, the average Pirate Bay user is not thinking about these things in an ethical/moral/philosophical sense. It’s like pure id: see, want, take. “I wanna see this week’s 'Game of Thrones,' it’s free online, let me DL it.” There’s a component whereby this is a terrible thing, because taken en masse it effectively devalues art to the point where people treat all art as though it were free.
However, is internet piracy what’s really devaluing content? Admittedly, that’s a component of it. But I would argue that what’s really devaluing content is that everyone is pretty much giving it away for free. There was a time when if you wanted to watch a video you had to either pay up through the basically direct pay system of paying for a movie ticket, which feeds the studios, which feeds the actors, writers, directors, and crew, or you had to watch advertiser-supported television, which was a more indirect method, but everyone still got paid by their advertisers. Now, though, I can get a half hour of entertainment on YouTube for free from a bunch of jackasses who think falling over is funny. Or popping zits. Or whatever.
That’s free content. Genuinely free. And blogs are free and websites are free, and there are free novels out there, and the equivalent of free novels in terms of length, if that’s the kind of thing I’m into. And free games and, well, free everything really. The internet itself devalues content because there’s so goddamn much of it. In this new paradigm I don’t really blame people for not wanting to pay for content just because the intellectual property owner wants to charge.
And, like I said, as an intellectual property owner I should probably be solidly on one line in this debate. I should probably shout, “Pay me what I’m worth!” from the rooftops. But I'm a pragmatist. And I can also look to the past for exemplars. Metallica did not come out of pounding and pounding against music downloading looking good. They looked like entitled assholes, which, whatever the merits of their arguments, did not help their argument. Nobody likes to listen to an entitled asshole, no matter how morally upright their argument is.
So here's a proposal I came up with. It would be cool if it took off, and I think it splits the difference between Lars Ulrich raging against everyone who's ever pirated an episode of "Doctor Who" they missed and pretending like piracy won't ultimately ruin it for everybody. One of the things that's most important to content creators is reviews. So what if it became common courtesy that when you pirate a book or a movie or a CD, since you didn't pay for it you go to Amazon and review it? It probably would take you exactly as long as DLing it did to leave a twenty word review, even if it's a bad one. (Actually, I think Amazon may have rescinded the twenty word minimum.)
What do you think? Best compromise ever or total cop-out? Let me know in the comments.
March 23, 2015
Six Must-Own Books
Hey, everybody! I didn't really have a plan for today's post, but I have noticed that sales have really kind of taken a nosedive so I thought it might not hurt to just flat-out do an advertising post. If you enjoy my blog and you like the idea of me being able to live off my writing someday, the two best things you can do to help are to buy my books and to leave reviews on Amazon after you're done. So here's a quick rundown on all six of my extant titles. If you want to buy one, just click on the cover. And if you own all six, you have my eternal gratitude and I hope you will, indeed, leave a review for each, whether you loved it or hated it.
Thanks everybody!
AT HELL'S GATES II is a charity anthology featuring my short story "The Man With Four Scars." 100% of proceeds go to the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, servicing veterans suffering from PTSD and TBI. Just picking up a copy is a good deed, even if you don't enjoy horror.
FAT ZOMBIE is an anthology about the weirdos, freaks, geeks, losers, and unusual survivors of the zombie apocalypse. My entry, "The New Dark Ages," is by a wide margin my most transgressive work, even trampling the few taboos I hadn't shattered with my sophomore novel, THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO.
AT HELL'S GATES, like its sequel, is a charity anthology with all proceeds going to the IFHF. This features my story "Exploding Shit Zombies," of which I am very proud and I think is equal parts hilarious and gruesome.
BILLY AND THE CLONEASAURUS is my shortest novel to date, and my least gory. It's closer to dystopian sci-fi than horror, so it's probably a good jumping-in point for folks that aren't such big fans of horror. It does have its darker elements, though, and is quite nihilistic.
THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO is my masterpiece, a grand guignol epic of extreme hardcore horror as well as my most literary and philosophical work to date. Not for the weak of stomach, but my proudest achievement.
Ah, BRAINEATER JONES. The novel that started it all. Everybody loves BRAINEATER JONES, I can tell you that. It's goofy, gory fun, not exactly horror in the traditional sense, but still a blast for gorehounds and non-gorehounds alike. And if you're not really into the whole "reading" thing, it's also available as an audiobook.
Thanks everybody!
AT HELL'S GATES II is a charity anthology featuring my short story "The Man With Four Scars." 100% of proceeds go to the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, servicing veterans suffering from PTSD and TBI. Just picking up a copy is a good deed, even if you don't enjoy horror.
FAT ZOMBIE is an anthology about the weirdos, freaks, geeks, losers, and unusual survivors of the zombie apocalypse. My entry, "The New Dark Ages," is by a wide margin my most transgressive work, even trampling the few taboos I hadn't shattered with my sophomore novel, THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO.
AT HELL'S GATES, like its sequel, is a charity anthology with all proceeds going to the IFHF. This features my story "Exploding Shit Zombies," of which I am very proud and I think is equal parts hilarious and gruesome.
BILLY AND THE CLONEASAURUS is my shortest novel to date, and my least gory. It's closer to dystopian sci-fi than horror, so it's probably a good jumping-in point for folks that aren't such big fans of horror. It does have its darker elements, though, and is quite nihilistic.
THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO is my masterpiece, a grand guignol epic of extreme hardcore horror as well as my most literary and philosophical work to date. Not for the weak of stomach, but my proudest achievement.
Ah, BRAINEATER JONES. The novel that started it all. Everybody loves BRAINEATER JONES, I can tell you that. It's goofy, gory fun, not exactly horror in the traditional sense, but still a blast for gorehounds and non-gorehounds alike. And if you're not really into the whole "reading" thing, it's also available as an audiobook.
