Jamie Grefe's Blog, page 25

DECKER: Episode One (An Adaptation)

What follows is my fictional adaptation of Tim Heidecker’s brilliant series, DECKER. Permission has been granted by Tim Heidecker for the writing of this story. If you enjoy DECKER as much as I do, I hope this short story satisfies your imagination. Thank you.

DECKER: Episode One (An Adaptation)

It’s hotter than a mug of chili in August and this Afghanistan sun is a torch. Decker dismounts a black motorcycle, tips off his helmet, scans the lone desert road. He tucks his American shades tight over sweat-strewn eyes to shield the heat. He swats dust off his signature black slacks and blazer, checks his pistol—clicks off the safety.



That sun swells, looms closer. Decker’s alone, deep again in the dangling fireballs of this foreign battleground. It’s like he never left, knows this dead man’s land better than Jackson Hole. But some devils won’t stay down for the count. Hence, our hero, Decker. Our only hope.



Time to roll. A shrill ring in his pocket. He palms a jet black cell phone, flips it open. It’s the president. Business only, boss. No time to chit chat politics when the fate of the world flagpoles like a stripe around the neck of our stars.



All of a sudden, a truck roars past, full of armed men. Decker stands still, blends into the air like a mirage. Tires crunch gravel. Blurred faces. A bullet to the head and Decker would be down. But you can’t stop freedom. Decker’s finger twitches, each of those scum, he thinks, a kill shot to the temple and that’s that. He watches the truck grow smaller, vanish.



Cross the road. Decker’s zoned in on a small hill bristling with trees and rocks spread out like battered skulls. There’s no path. Doesn’t need to be. “Afghanistan,” he says. “After all these years still fighting the Taliban, mono e mono. When will they learn that you can’t bring a knife to a gun fight? Our DRX Patriot cruise missiles could take out one of their villages where the rats hide in ten seconds. But our pussy-ass politicians are too scared to pull the trigger.” Decker picks up a thin branch, breaks it. “So, I have to go in and kick ass one man at a time, mono e mono. When will they learn? First, I have to get intel from my source, a traitor to his own people, but an asset to the United States of America. I’m running to meet him now.”



And we’re off. Decker’s scaled the hill to the top and he’s a cougar huffing, clearing rocks and clawing past trees to a spot only he can pinpoint. Hear him breathe dirt. Boots clomp sand, spit wind. Faster. Faster.



Decker skids to a halt in the middle of a clearing. He checks the time, reads zero four hundred. He takes a deep breath, face scowls. The smell of the enemy reeks. No man knows what lurks in this heat. But Decker’s no man you’ve ever met. “Believe it or not,” he says, catching his breath, “Afghanistan can be very beautiful this time of year.” For a moment, he imagines his family, shrouded in fog, a sepia-stained memory boiled black.



A twig snaps like an AK-47. And like that, armed with superhuman speed, Decker spins, right hand already pulling at his piece. From a dense clump of brush, arms in the air, one hand gripping a brown briefcase, the other unarmed. The man yells in Arabic, “Don’t shoot! Stop!”



Decker nearly drills a round into the man’s turban, but hangs limp, wavers at the last second. The source. It’s him. Decker sighs, tries to break the shock. “Abdul,” he says, “can’t sneak up on a CIA agent like that.” But Decker was poised to kill. He’d heard his contact coming, just wanted to give him a thrill, show him what this old Langley boy could do if pushed to the upper deck.



And Abdul, a thirty-something Afghani in flowing white, eases forward, that briefcase trembling in his tight grip. “I found this briefcase in my master’s office,” he says. “I believe it may contain plans to destroy America with a nuclear bomb, but I cannot know this.”



There are hundreds of languages in the world, tongues of all sorts, but Decker is a linguistic ninja with the gift of suave lips. He’s mastered the dialect, fires fluently back in Arabic, “Let’s open it up and find out.”



“Impossible,” Abdul says. “It is locked and I do not know the code.” From the look on Abdul’s face, Decker reads fear. It’s easy to spot a man with nothing left to lose, easier to spot a man who loves his country enough to give up the goat. And there’s always a way to give up the goat.



“I have a solution,” Decker says, pointing his pistol at the case. He aims.



Abdul shrieks, pulls the briefcase to his side. “No! Decker, if you pry it open it will send my master an alarm and the briefcase will explode killing us both.”



Certain death? Decker thinks. Let’s go for a spin on that pole, from sea to seashore, but instead says, “I hate bombs.” And one look at the shrapnel scars and bullet wounds that litter Decker’s rigid body, one know this to be true. Decker. Hates. Bombs.



Abdul looks left, right. He’s nervous. Decker’s seen it before, the lusty eyes of a hot rat.



“You must break the code,” Abdul says.



But before Decker can examine the goods, his phone rings again. He lets it sound once, twice, but no, what if the president thinks he’s been slaughtered, mown down in the mud and sends in the cavalry to take out the slop? They’d blow this entire operation to balls. Now or never. “Hold on a minute,” he says to Abdul, answers the phone. “What is it?”



In the Washington D.C. flash of an eagle’s talon, we’re a frumpy suit, sweaty tie too tight, and nerve-clenched fingers in the Oval office. “Decker,” the president says, his graveled voice more a command than a question, “where in the hell are you?”



Decker’s eyes hit the horizon. He snarls his lip. “I’m in the shit doing your dirty business.” Some things never change.



The president clears his throat, wipes his dirty brow. “Any news from the source?”



“Mr. President,” Decker says, noting the way Abdul fidgets, “I’ve got something here that would make you shit your pants.”



“Intelligence?” the president says.



“The motherload.”



The president squeezes the receiver harder. “Really? Bring it back here to Washington D.C. at once.” He licks his lips, yellow teeth gleaming. “I’ll be awaiting your arrival.”



“I’m on my way.” Click. Decker pockets the cell, arches eyebrows. “Abdul, thank you very much for your help in securing me this very important secret document.” He reaches out, Abdul passes Decker the briefcase. “I’m going to take this back to Washington and make sure we get this code open without exploding the package.” Abdul takes a step back, but Decker stares him dead on. “I know you’ve risked your life and your family’s life to make this exchange happen and therefore I’m grateful and the country salutes you—but let me just tell you, this is going to make our country safer and, in turn, we’re going to help you provide freedom, safety, and security for your own country, because that’s what America has promised you. That’s what America is going to deliver no matter who the president is.”



There’s something about Decker’s cold honesty, how he stares a man dead in the eyes, about the way his voice torches the sun with a cool breeze like a monument of liberty. Even Abdul feels it salute his desert heart. He raises his head and, in perfect American English, says, “My pleasure.” With that, he’s gone, turban fluttering down a trail of dust.



Hot wind chops the air, kicks up sand around Decker, sending branches to sing in the wind. It’s a Blackhawk and it’s swooping down on Decker. Like clockwork. The boys have arrived. He raises his arm to catch the thick military-grade rope that drops from the chopper. “Alright,” he says, looking up at the troops, “lower the rope. Bring her down.” He grabs the rope. “Alright, I’m ready. ” And the Blackhawk spikes up, hoists him and the briefcase to freedom. “Thank you, Abdul,” he says, tracing the young man’s tiny shape as he runs, shrinking smaller and smaller. And Decker leans back in his leather seat, surveys the oceans of sand that stretch for miles and miles on all sides. Another day done. Time to deliver the shit to the big man himself and let freedom ring us home.



To Be Continued…

Three Reads w/ Bix Skahill

Great Thursday and we’re on our way to Friday, everyone. Thank you for letting your eyes rest on this page. We’ve got a real “three reads” treat in store for you today, in this, our sixth installment of the series. If you want to catch up, bring yourself up to date on what “reads” we’ve been toting, check out the choices of Dustin Reade, Amanda Billings, Daniel Vlasaty, Andy de Fonseca, and Tiffany Scandal. And who, might you fairly ask, is the lucky duck contributor for today’s big NUMBER SIX? Well…

Today’s contributor is the author of the raucously funny and strange book Babes in Gangland, none other than, Bix Skahill. So, as the nature of this bestselling series goes, Bix has chosen three books that he’s enjoyed, books that he’s going to share with you and give you a sentence or three about what made each book tick for him. In doing so, you might, just might, maybe, probably be spurred on to check out something you haven’t read before, yeah? Yeah!@#%$! Wait. I am. Calm down. Just say, “yeah,” okay? Okay. Yeah. Good.

Good. And what do those fierce wordslingers among us, those warriors of Word, have to say about Bix Skahill? Let’s find out:

“[Babes in Gangland] is a tour de force of criminal hilarity…” - Jeremy Robert Johnson, author of We Live Inside You and Extinction Journals

“Easily the funniest NBAS book of the year, Babes in Gangland is an engaging, messed up Bizarro ride.” – Vince Kramer, author of Death Machines of Death and Gigantic Death Worm

“A unique twist on Bizarro.” – MP Johnson, author of Dungeons and Drag Queens and The After-Life of Pork Knuckles Malone

“I hate people and things but I loved this book.” – Geoff Sass, guitarist and chief song-writer for Governor of Utah

(Cue drum roll)

(Cue mounting applause)

And now, without further whips and chains of wit, I present to you Mr. Bix Skahill’s “three reads,” a trio of fine literary works explicated in a precise fashion for your reading pleasure. Take it away, Bix.

Fever by Megan Abbott
To laud this much lauded book is a bit redundant but I loved it. No one does the teen/sex/death thing better than Abbott and her books are always creepy and engaging. Much like 2012′s Dare Me, I couldn’t put The Fever down. If you want to stay up late into the night, I highly recommend this book.

The Last Goddam Hollywood Movie by John Skipp and Cody Goodfellow
I read everything these two geniuses write but when they pen something together, look out! Perhaps it’s because I made my living as a screenwriter for a decade in the beautiful cesspool that is Hollywood that I so loved this book but I think everyone would find this book a pleasant kick in the ass. The Last Goddam Hollywood Movie is an apocalyptic tale about a movie crew trying to complete a film as the world around them ends. Great stuff.

Low Down Death Right Easy by J. David Osborne
Whenever I read a Jim Thompson book I want to simultaneously keep reading it forever and bury it in the backyard so that I never have to look at it again. They make me too anxious but are so damn entertaining. That’s the way I felt about Osborne’s book. Low Down Death Right Easy is a gritty Southern tale about two brothers who get mixed up in a crime. You know nothing good is going to come of this and nothing does. Osborne’s prose is flawless as is his execution.

Three Reads w/ Dustin Reade

Welcome to Wednesday, you fiction-loving devils. Thank you for being here. Ready to get your eyes wet with today’s “Three Reads?” Well, you better be, because we are. If you enjoy today’s article, consider reading the “three reads” of our past contributors, Eraserhead Press authors Amanda Billings, Daniel Vlasaty, Andy de Fonseca, and Tiffany Scandal.

Now, what shall we say about Mr. Dustin Reade, author of the superbly strange and funny book, Grambo? And how could such a charming young man write such grambo-liciously bizarre Bizarro fiction? Ask the mustache. It’s always a factor. And, if you haven’t read Reade’s book already, here’s an inadequate, but hopefully tasteful glimpse. Grambo is a book about raging grandmothers and mascots, about certain evil academics and vengeance. It’s a real hoot not for the faint of heart. Here’s what a few of the literary shamans among us have to say about it:

“Like Estelle Getty got an action film career launched in the 80’s. Dustin Reade is seriously funny (and twisted violent, holy crow). Real conversational, fast-paced writing.” – Michael Kazepis, author of Long Lost Dog Of It

” All you need to know is that Grambo spoofs both Rambo-style revenge and high school comedy and has some truly weird moments. When I read a book from a new writer published by Eraserhead, this is pretty much what I’m expecting (in a satisfying way, not a trite way). It’s fun, funny, ludicrously violent, weird, and brief.” – Gary Arthur Brown, author of Kitten

“Man, I wish my name was effin’ Dustin Reade!” – Douglas Hackle, author of Clown Tear Junkies

Excellent, indeed, folks. And now, silence my spat of unmanly grief with a fork to the tongue and let’s get on to the meat of the matter. The meat is this: Dustin has chosen three books that have, of recent times, stirred him to life and he’s going to share them with you now. Dustin, are you here? Take it away, good sir!

REPO SHARK, by Cody Goodfellow

This book was crazy awesome. Basically, the lead “singer” dude from Die Antwerp is running around in an old Elmore Leonard detective novel. Only, instead of Detroit and gritty realism, it’s set in Hawaii, and is bat shit insane.

CHARLES MANSON NOW by Marlin Marynick

This is up there with Helter Skelter and The Shadow Over Santa Susana as far as Manson-related writings go. Marynick delves into not only the facts of the Manson Family murders, but also explores the myths surrounding Manson himself, as well as the strange fascination the case and the man holds for some people (like myself). The book includes pictures the other books tend to leave out: Manson’s artwork (including a spider made from the elastic of his underwear), letters, and more. If you are a Mansonophile, I highly recommend this book.

BIGBOOBENSTEIN by Jeff O’Brien

I cannot begin to express how much fun this book is: masturbating teenagers, strange little troll-type people, Voodoo Pimps, and breast implants. It is fun, gory, and just plain awesome. After I read it, I talked about it so much the author asked me to write an intro for the rerelease. I did. It’s awesome too.

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Well, there you have it, ladies and grambos. I hope this gives your mind something palatable to chew on. If you’re like me, you’ve already bitten off more books than you can chew and you’re looking for a way to slam more books down your word-hungry throat. Am I right? Hey, it’s that time, again. What time is that? IT’S TIME TO READ A BOOK! GET OUT OF HERE!

Writerly Thoughts on Birdemic: Shock and Terror

After sharing my Sharknado article, I received a brief message from my good friend, Joel Potrykus saying that I better watch Birdemic: Shock and Terror. That it’s the real deal. That it’s “better.” Well, dear Internet readers, I did just that. In fact, I’ve watched the film three times and, like those classic gems Troll 2 and The Room, Birdemic: Shock and Terror just keeps flapping grander and grander. Maybe if I watch it ten times, some kind of otherworldly revelation will be unleashed and a swarm of eagles will swoop down and peck off my lips. It’s worth a shot.

Birdemic: Shock and Terror is a “Romantic Thriller” directed by James Nguyen. The film is romantically charged as we follow our protagonist through his developing relationship with a beautiful young woman. However, that’s not where the fun ends. It’s where it begins. Just when it seems everything is on the up and up (a lucrative stock option, a successful start-up venture), the birds arrive. And they are hungry. They come in droves, in waves of furious violence. They are infected, of course. They are displaced and angry–viscous, bloodthirsty, savage. This is where the film turns blood-red and heats up. Suddenly, we are in the middle of a battlezone, armed with machine guns and fleeing for our lives.

I admire Nguyen’s vision and the way in which he pulled this film off. The special effects are cheaply executed, but all it takes is one’s imagination to make things so real, so fresh, so fantastic. In fact, I actually like the special effects and find them effective in that they make the actors perform harder, perform better. And they do. They really do.

By the end of the journey, we hit water. We become water and ocean air. It’s a beautiful moment that lingers for a long time. We made it to the edge of the world and, for a brief moment, though we don’t know for how long, the birds are gone. Order is restored. The birdemic is over.

If you crave a mixture of Hitchcock and bullets, eagles and romance, you’ll love Birdemic: Shock and Terror. There’s something to be said about a director who has a vision and sticks to it, who makes a film work against all odds. Who takes a small amount of money and invests it in the right way, who truly believes in what he is making. That believability is something that, I think, audiences can feel tug at their hearts. It makes us laugh with joy. We feel that we, too, could be there making that movie, acting that scene. The characters become us and we become an intimate part of the movie. We don’t need slick effects to make seductive cinema, we just need to believe. And birds. We need birds. Lots of them.

Three Reads w/ Amanda Billings

Grand Tuesday, adorable Internet reader, and welcome to “Three Reads,” a series in which I ask an author to comment briefly on three books they read and found worthy of spreading. Past contributors in this roaringly successful series are Daniel Vlasaty, Andy de Fonseca, and Tiffany Scandal.

Today’s “Three Reads” contributor is none other than the fierce Coloradan herself, Amanda Billings, author of 8-Bit Apocalypse, a Bizarro book about a giant Atari gaming cartridge attacking the heart of downtown Denver, causing mass destruction by bringing classic games to life. Sounds intriguing, yes? Well, don’t take my pithy intrigue for it. Here’s how some of our elders have mashed their video game playing thumbs to Billings’ work:

“Billings is absolutely one of the wittiest and most insightful authors to publish in the entire New Bizarro Author Series. The book is an extremely funny collection of awkward moments and geek culture. If you have a fond spot for 80s video games, then this is something you should check out.” – G. Arthur Brown, Bizarro Central

“8-Bit Apocalypse is a funny, riotous, full on bizarro look at what would happen if video games came to life.” – Brian Keene, The Rising

“This short book by Amanda Billings is at times, hilarious, thoughtful, and absolutely nuts.” – R.A. Harris, All Art is Junk

Witty, funny, and nutty, huh? That’s truly a combination to behold. And now, without another dose of hoopla, I present Amanda Billings’ three reads. Take it away, Amanda.

The Collected Suicide Notes of Sam Pink by Sam Pink

I picked up this collection after hearing Daniel Vlasaty shout, over tacos, that Sam Pink IS Chicago. You know how sometimes you read something and then you immediately buy everything else that person has written and read it all in one sitting? That’s how it’s been with me and Sam Pink.

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

I put off reading this and seeing the movie for years because I always associated the whole American Psycho thing with assholes who get off on revenge porn and men’s rights. The book is tedious, jarring, and, at times, brilliant. It’s also a fun book to have someone unwittingly read over your shoulder.

American Monster by J. S. Breukelaar

Norma (Network Operation Requiring Minimal Access), an alien vessel on mission to find the perfect human mate, struggles with her own growing humanity as she navigates the ruins of human society in near-future California. A cerebral, challenging labyrinth of a book, the dense prose gives way to beautiful insights about what it means to be human. This is one where I’d frequently read passages I loved out loud to friends, only to then spend 30 minutes unraveling the context while said friends slowly backed out of the room.

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Well, there you have it, dear reader. Three is the magical-schmagical number, and won’t break the bank if you do decide to take the plunge and pick up a copy or three of Amanda’s lovely choices. Thank you for reading and until next time, goodbye, good work, good day, and good luck, wherever you are. The world is your Atari. Learn to mash.

Three Reads w/ Daniel Vlasaty

Today continues our “Three Reads” series with the Bizarro author of The Church of TV as God, the one and only, Mr. Daniel Vlasaty. As per the nature of this series, we’ll briefly explore three books chosen by the selected author with a statement or two (by said author) on why they appreciate each particular book. Our first two installments feature Bizarro authors Tiffany Scandal and Andy de Fonseca. And on that maniacal note…

Vlasaty’s work is fresh and exciting, but one need not listen to a Gentle Gus like myself. Bite off a bit of Vlasaty from the lips of certain talented others. Heed their words when they say:

“The Church of TV as God had me hooked from the first page. It’s a smooth, hilarious vision of modern life with a foul-mouthed dog, a dude who’s head is turning into a TV, and the cult who worships him. Sweet, sweet bizarro.”

-Kevin Shamel, author of Island of the Super People and Bigfoot Cop.

“Dope debut.”

-Grant Wamack, author of A Lightbulb’s Lament.

“This is a very promising debut from a writer who I like a lot. His style is simple but poetic. His description of the cult’s scenes of havoc are very disturbing and wildly innovative. He has a good command of his language, better than many writers who have more than one book under their belt.”

-G. Arthur Brown, author of Kitten.

And now, on to the juice, the “three reads” that Daniel has selected and will speak about. Take it away, Mr. Vlasaty:

MONSTERS by Ken Dahl

A graphic novel about herpes. A disease that (according to the book) about 70% of us has. A good story. Beautiful/surreal art. And also informative.

I picked this up knowing absolutely nothing about it. Based on the cover alone.

JESUS’ SON by Denis Johnson

This is probably my favorite book ever. I read it about once or so a year. Usually more. And when I first found it, I read it three times in a row.

It’s a small book. It’s full of beautiful language about a dirty side of what it means to be human.

WITCH PISS by Sam Pink

This book or any other Sam Pink book, really. He perfectly writes about what it means to be young and poor in Chicago. His characters, I know them. They are people I’ve met. People I’ve sat next to on the bus.

Shit, his characters could be me. They are me.

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Well, there we are, then. You’re still here. Thank you for being here and for reading until the end. I believe that learning who a person reads can help us better appreciate the mind of the author, who they draw some inspiration from. With that in mind, let’s proceed upon our journey and keep reading, friends, keep reading. Thank you.

Three Reads w/ Andy de Fonseca

Yesterday, I posted “Three Reads w/ Tiffany Scandal,” the first in a six part installment that features my fellow 2013-2014 New Bizarro Author Series authors speaking briefly about three books that they’ve read and found worthy of sharing.

Today’s author is Andy de Fonseca, author of The Cheat Code for God Mode. Take heed, she is a force, but don’t take my word for it. There are others more eloquent than myself who speak fondly of her skills:

“Check this book out, because de Foncesca is going to be around for a while, and this book didn’t read like a “new author” book. The intelligent design behind the book’s composition is a display of narrative talent, and a deeper understanding of how these attributes can affect a story. Well done.”

-Vincenzo Bilof, Necropolis Now, Zombie Ascension

“The Cheat Code For God Mode is what Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One SHOULD have been… [and] what The Matrix COULD have been… It’s a lot like Neil deGrasse Tyson is sitting on the couch playing video games with you while you’re both stoned. It’s through this clever writing that the story really comes to life.”

-Michael Allen Rose, Declension

“She has put together a strange, but familiar landscape, without tedious over explanation. Margy is just the right kind of abrasive, and her strength is not undercut by falling into tropes. In fact, Andy doesn’t shy away from calling that opportunity out, and keeps her female fully capable to face her struggle. I couldn’t be a bigger cheerleader for this NBAS title, and can’t wait to see what other worlds Andy will take us to.”

-Sauda Namir, Model, Photographer

And now, without further ado, I present Andy de Fonseca’s three reads:

1) THE END OF THE WORLD by Don Hertzfeldt

I’ve been a Don Hertzfeldt fan for over a decade and have seen him three or four times now. Each time Hertzfeldt comes out with something I am moved. His short film series It’s Such A Beautiful Day left me shaking.

And that’s how THE END OF THE WORLD left me. The art is haunting in that there are specs of humor in the horror. Every image tells a nightmare for the person in the situation, but being the voyeur, we find humor in it. And that’s where it gets you, because you’re in the middle; the image and words are laughing at the situation, but being on the outside, you want to connect with characters, and therefore, want to feel what they’re feeling. So it’s almost as if you’re the one being laughed at.

Fuck, did that make any sense?? You’ll just have to read it.

2) A STORM OF SWORDS by George RR Martin

Am I going to be unpopular for putting such a commercial book on here? I apologize to people who don’t read popular things because they’re popular. I don’t understand that mindset to begin with, but whatever. Fantasy, especially epic fantasy, is a huge love of mine. I started reading ASOIAF when I was having HBO GOT withdrawals, and the books were the drugs I needed. I think I read them to remind myself how shitty I am at writing fantasy, and how much I need to up my game.

As most know, Martin writes fantastic female characters who are dynamic, well rounded, and have their own voice. When two ladies get together, they don’t chat about boys and yogurt, more like murder. It’s glorious. And not all of them are sweet princesses. There’s that bitch Cersei and moron Catelyn Stark.

Dragons, sex, wars, heroes in the form of dwarves, bandits, and murderers – I love it. Yeah, there are detail paragraphs I skip over, and I can’t remember every bloody hedge knight’s name, but I keep turning the pages, and rooting for my favorites, and grinding my teeth when they die.

3) THE UNIVERSE IN A NUTSHELL by Stephen Hawking

With The Cheat Code for God Mode, I don’t think it’s a secret I love this shit. I read through The Universe in a Nutshell again recently because it’s a great source for ideas. I think science is better than magic, and the best place to get unique stories. Hawking, Cthulhu bless him, does such a great job explaining these insanely complex theories for the dumbnuts like me in the world. Where I can wrap my mind around P and C symmetry and the multiverse and the effects of dark energy and what you can do with it. And what’s even better, there are PICTURES. So if you’ve ever thought ‘no way can I understand this shit’, YOU CAN, because PICTURES.

Seriously, it makes it easier.

So, yeah, read up on some Hawking if you wanna feel like the smartest person in the world. You won’t be, but you’ll feel the mind power.

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Thank you, Andy de Fonseca, and thank you, dear reader for sticking around. I hope you find value in de Fonesca’s choices and may your day be filled with a treasure trove of great books.

New Interview w/ Jaideep Khanduja

I was approached recently by Mumbai-based blogger Jaideep Khanduja to do an interview for his blog “Pebbles in the Still Waters.” Jaideep provided me with many great questions and I thank him for taking the time and interest to do so.

If you would like to know more about the purpose of my writing, inspirations, and what I’m currently working on, please read the interview HERE.

Three Reads w/ Tiffany Scandal

Tiffany Scandal’s Eraserhead Press release There’s No Happy Ending has been talked about in the following ways:

“Her stories are spooky and twisted, yet somehow delicate. Like a venus flytrap, I suppose . . . something unsettling and gorgeous to freak you out and enrapture you.” -Kevin Shamel, author of Rotten Little Animals  and Island of the Super People

“Tiffany Scandal is one of the most exciting new voices to emerge in years. A deft, masterful mix of both bizarro and horror. I definitely can’t wait to read what she writes next!” - Brian Keene , author of The Rising and Ghoul
 
“Powerful scenes, real characters, unforgettable images, and a climax that satisfies both the story and the reader simultaneously. Yes, yes, yes.” -Laura Lee Bahr, author of Haunt
 
I asked her (and my fellow New Bizarro Author Series authors) to list three books that they’ve read (recently or not so recently) that have had an impact on them. What follows are Tiffany’s choices followed by a brief sentence about that impact. So, without further ado, I present these three reads with Tiffany Scandal:
 

 
BLACK CLOUD, by Juliet Escoria. 
I read this book in one sitting and it still haunts me today. It was everything I loved about Hempel and Plath, but modern, darker, and more badass. 
 

 
LONG LOST DOG OF IT, by Michael Kazepis.
All associations with this author aside, this book is genuinely different than anything else out there today. A beautifully written story about fucked up people trying to get by and find happiness during an economic crisis. 
 

 
I AM GENGHIS CUM, by Violet LeVoit.
LeVoit’s writing is bold. Possible postpartum depression underlying the most intense body horror I’ve ever read in my life. Reading this book felt like a punch to the groin while in a bloody bar fight.
 
For an in-depth peek into Tiffany’s mind, check out this awesome interview. I hope this post gives you some insight–now go read some books!!!

 
 
 

Writerly Thoughts on SHARKNADO

I bought the SHARKNADO DVD today. I couldn’t pass it up. Who can pass up rummaging through those mega-bins of DVDs and Blu-rays that haunt certain large retail stores? I certainly can’t, nor do I need a DVD with fifteen “Westerns” on it–I just don’t need it. However, this was the last copy of SHARKNADO in the bin. Or, perhaps, the only copy. Now, it’s my copy.

The premise is quite novel–a freak storm/tornado sucks up a horde of sharks and batters and floods parts of Los Angeles and it’s up to a group of risk-takers to stop this powerful force. But more than this, it’s the story of a father and his love for his family, and a young woman facing her fear of sharks–she has the lovely scar to prove it. Though, I’m assuming you’ve already seen the film, I have to comment on a the most beautiful ending–SPOILER ALERT–which is the clever use of a chainsaw to saw oneself out of a killer shark and then embrace in a pool of blood and blood-spattered lips.

While the Bizarro fiction world works a lot with strange premises (I can even imagine, as I write this, the novelization of SHARKNADO), I would not consider this a “Bizarro” film. This type of creature vs. human film has been around, in various incarnations, for years and years. Thank you, Roger Corman. The added element of the weather, coupled with the iconic metaphor of a sprawling city such as Los Angeles (a city just begging for cinematic destruction) both add to the film’s beauty.

I’ve expressed elsewhere that I’d like to write fiction that reads as fast and as fun as something like a “B-Movie.” I keep returning to this thought. I’m haunted by this thought. Perhaps, I should reword “B-movie,” though, to include other ways of thinking such as “grindhouse-arthouse,” “exploitation,” and/or simply, “the cinematic.” What is it about these over-the-top stories that draw me in? I’m not sure yet, but there is definitely a joy in these types of films and when I come across books that express that same kind of joy on the page, I’m apt to not want to put that book down. Rarely, dear reader, are these novelizations of films, though. I would like to read more novelizations of good films, adapt them, translate them, and make them one’s own (much like how Jodorowsky never read Herbert’s DUNE).

Overall, I thought SHARKNADO had a strong story that fit with its purpose. Its purpose, I’m assuming, was to entertain on a modest budget with a science-fiction story that would attract attention by virtue of its exploitative angle. I believe it worked. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have found the DVD while rummaging through the bin today. And, while I sadly won’t be filing it under my “favorite films,” I would like to return to it again, for any film that gets me writing and thinking and imagining possibilities is precious.

Thank you for reading. If you have any thoughts on SHARKNADO that you think you fit this discussion, please drop a comment below.