Josef Matulich's Blog, page 15
May 19, 2015
Unleash the Minions with Hedgetrimmers!
After a little over a year, it’s official: “Power Tools in the Sacred Grove”, the sequel to “Camp Arcanum”, is available. It has all the magick and twice the sex and power tools of the first volume.
After only a few weeks in Arcanum Ohio, Marc Sindri finds himself in love with Brenwyn the witch; hospitalized by Jeremiah Stone’s sex-conjured demon; and woefully behind in his construction deadlines to open the new renaissance faire by May first. Moving in with Brenwyn for protection from further supernatural attacks during his rehabilitation, Marc delegates the work on Arcanum Faire to his minions, Eleazar the ren faire libertine and Michael the overwrought artisan.
The path to the faire’s opening day is not smooth, obstructed by invisible tentacle demons, undead skinless bunnies, interference from OSHA and even the Vatican, but Marc slowly recovers. With luck, he will soon be healthy enough to lift a chainsaw or survive sex. Through a vegan Thanksgiving, a tool-bedecked Christmas, and lovers’ spats with a woman that can throw lightning bolts, Marc makes his way mostly unscathed.
If only his semi-erotic dream about hedgetrimmers and a sacred grove didn’t end up leaking into Brenwyn’s sleeping mind.
I am already currently working on the third book, its working title “The Beltane Faire”. It will prove to be as great a battle between Good and Evil as Pellenor Fields, if fought between reanimated road kill and renaissance faire performers.
Power Tools in the Sacred Grove (Arcanum Faire Book 2)
May 14, 2015
Eating My Words
For much of the last decade I’ve had reading parties as a way of beta testing my screenplays and plays. This gives me a chance to hear how the words actually sound and gives me the benefit of the experience of the readers. I get their opinions and avoid foolish mistakes. Thanks to my reading group, I now know that depressed witches do not wear red satin pajamas.
This process, of course, means multiple copies of the same manuscript when all is read and done. The parties usually end on the back patio around the fire pit. Scripts without useful notations are cast into the flames. The next day, the ashes go into the compost pile to eventually fertilize the tomatoes.
The comedy gives the veggies a hint of sweetness. The sex scenes add a touch of savory. Graphic violence and gore taste sharp and hot like ghost peppers.
April 28, 2015
Back in the Day…
A friend posted a video clip from our old days as costumers at Marcon when we had two entries in the masquerade competition. The first was K’hoji, Secret Emperor of the Klingon Empire: a friends poodle with a warbled rubber forehead and pleather armor. The other was Zathras from Babylon 5. He had been my victim in a makeup demo earlier that day. The pretty woman he propositions is my wife in her Queen of Cups costume.
Good times.
April 20, 2015
Power Tools in the Sacred Grove Giveaway
In honor of the May 19th release of “Power Tools in the Sacred Grove”, the sequel to “Camp Arcanum”, I have arranged to give away 3 copies through Goodreads. Follow the link below to join and Good Luck!
https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/134917-power-tools-in-the-sacred-grove?page=3
April 17, 2015
Book Launch Party for my Second Novel TOMORROW!
Though the official release date is still May 19th, we are hosting a book release party for “Power Tools in the Sacred Grove” between 4 and 7 pm at The Alley tomorrow. We sill have cake, unspecified beverages, and chocolate undead bunnies. I will read from the book around 5:15 pm and copies will be available for sale and signing.
The sequel to “Camp Arcanum” continues the horror/comedy of sex, magick, and power tools. After only a few weeks in Arcanum Ohio, Marc Sindri finds himself in love with Brenwyn the witch; hospitalized by Jeremiah Stone���s sex-conjured demon; and woefully behind in his construction deadlines to open the new renaissance faire by May first. Moving in with Brenwyn for protection from further supernatural attacks during his rehabilitation, Marc delegates the work on Arcanum Faire to his minions, Eleazar the ren faire libertine and Michael the overwrought artisan.
The path to the faire���s opening day is not smooth, obstructed by invisible tentacle demons, undead skinless bunnies, interference from OSHA and even the Vatican, but Marc slowly recovers. With luck, he will soon be healthy enough to lift a chainsaw or survive sex. Through a vegan Thanksgiving, a tool-bedecked Christmas, and lovers��� spats with a woman that can throw lightning bolts, Marc makes his way mostly unscathed.
If only his semi-erotic dream about hedgetrimmers and a sacred grove didn���t end up leaking into Brenwyn���s sleeping mind.
���Power Tools in the Sacred Grove��� is published by Post Mortem Press and will be available in ebook and trade paperbacks. The event will be at 3502 W Dublin-Granville Rd., Columbus OH 43235
April 5, 2015
Bodies in the Trunk
Having been involved in special effects and haunts for many years, we in the Matulich household have always been concerned with how many dead bodies can be stuffed into the trunks of our cars. I started off with an ’88 Lincoln Town Car, mostly held together with duct tape, which could hold the equivalent of at least four dead bodies. I have since moved up to an HHR which lets me stack cadavers like cordwood as long as the outrigger mirrors are clear. My wife Kit has a Dodge Charger. Its trunk can hold probably three dead bodies, more when the back seats are laid down.
I’ve had two dead body stories relating to her car in the last few weeks. I had to commute between two conventions last weekend in Cincinnati. My wife had a Victorian clothing talk at Millenicon while I had a book-signing stint at Horror-Hound five miles away. Once I made it to the Horror Hound hotel, I checked the trunk to discover the stackable plastic torsos my wife wanted for displaying her historical garb. I was disappointed that the ghouls and zombies surrounding me were not at all bothered by telling Kit over the phone that her bodies were still in the trunk.
The week after that, Kit was able to make a major purchase of rabbit suits for our costume shop. She called me on the way back from the warehouse, gleeful at the spectacle her car must be for passing drivers. The back seat was filled with a half-dozen grinning bunny heads. The detached fluffy bodies?
They were in the trunk.
March 5, 2015
The Curse of the Electronic Keyfob
If someone were a writer of paranormal stories, you would think there was at least a little something paranormal about them. However, I stopped seeing ghosts at eight or nine, like most people. I dabbled in herbalism for a while, but nowadays that has devolved into a membership to the Teavana tea of the month club.
The most supernatural thing about my life anymore is that I stop watches.
My mother did this, too. With our overactive magnetic fields, we were the people that anti-magnetic watches were designed for. Or disposable digital watches, which we could wear until the display started permanently blinking “5:45″. I’ve randomized video games in arcades and fried the mother board on my laptop when I’ve become over-excited. My influence also effects the electronic keyfobs for our cars.
My car now randomly locks and unlocks itself, honking at me like a cat wanting to be let in from the cold. There are times when it will relock itself as I reach for the door handling. I’ve learned to be smarter than it and always leave the door wide open while the keys are in the ignition.
Unfortunately, the keyfob to my wife’s Charger also acts up. Occasionally, it will lock and unlock when I am in range, flashing its lights like the angry black, beast it is. Also, the automatic trunk release will sometimes go off. “In range” from her spot in the garage happens to be our kitchen or the back bedroom upstairs. If you can’t hear the plaintive beep of the horn, you can still see its lights blink through the side window of the detached garage.
Earlier this week, I evidently set off the trunk release early in the evening. The car sat in the frigid garage with its trunk light on throughout the night. By the next morning, the battery was dead.
Yes, I discharged my wife’s Charger.
Much pushing and jumping and battery-purchasing later, she was back on the road to The Alley, but she was not happy with me or life.
I’ve started leaving my keys in a bowl by the door, away from aura. We’ll see how that works out for us.
February 25, 2015
The Black James Bond
Appropos of nothing, my random thought on Indris Elba as James Bond. I have always congregated with the oddballs and the underdogs, one of the reasons I like Post Mortem Press so much. My early teen years were spent in Sacramento, which is not really California, but Columbus Ohio with palm trees and camellias. It was a vast sea of unrelenting whiteness with only a bit of Latino and Asian flavoring back in the early seventies.There were only two black kids in my school so we hung together for lunch. One of the two guys, I kid you not, was James Bond.
So, for me, James Bond can be any color he wants to be, as long as he has the fast car and the Walther.
February 15, 2015
Meet the People in my Head: Marc Sindri
It is coming up on the one-year anniversary of the publication of ���Camp Arcanum��� and the release of its sequel ���Power Tools in the Sacred Grove��� is fast approaching.�� To celebrate, I would like to introduce you all to the people that have been living inside my head for the last few years. I shall use quotes directly from the book where possible, so you will see what you can find for yourselves with only a few secret hints from my knowledge. The first will be Our Hero, Marc Sindri.
Marc Sindri is a contractor who specializes in the construction and maintenance of renaissance faires, starting at clearing the land with chainsaws to building bathrooms ladies in Elizabethan gowns can use easily, he has it planned out and locked in his head. As the construction of Arcanum Faire spins out, he composes what he calls his ���For Want of a Nail��� mantra, a step-by step program for building and opening the faire on time. It goes something like this:
Plot the land; pull the permits.
Fill the tool barn; build the camp.
Find the men; file their papers.
Design the faire; post the plot.
Clear the paths; trim the trunks.
��And so on���
The poem runs through his mind regularly and he uses it to shift focus away from things that might divert him from his goal: distractions like severe pain, hallucinations of little monsters and naked witches dancing around a bonfire.
He is a large, well-muscled man in his late thirties. His friend and lackey Eleazar describes him at first glance as ��� six-foot-three of excessive manhood clad only in his black jeans��� muscles and assorted scars as he pulled on his black tee-shirt���(Eleazar) knew he couldn���t compete with washboard abs and pectoral muscles fit for a gladiator movie.��� The ren faire libertine also refers to Marc as ���the little black hole of social responsibility he always was��� and ���must have been born under a wet blanket.��� Marc prefers to think of himself as hard-working, dedicated, and frequently delivering on miracles.
Marc is a fighter and he is not above head games and dirty tricks to guarantee he comes out on top. In coming to Arcanum, he discovers how truly versatile a weapon a shovel can be. Check out chapter thirteen to seen how many opponents he can take on with a shovel in his hands.
Marc describes himself this way: ���I���m kind of like a chainsaw: just fine on a job site, but not something you want to cuddle with or leave around small children.��� There is a human being at his core, but you have to get past the whirling steel, noise, and smoke to reach it.
February 13, 2015
Josef Matulich, blog guest & give awayer
This week we have been busy on the publicity front. The nice people at Dread Central have arranged to publish an excerpt from Camp Arcanum and give away an autographed copy of the novel of sex, magick, and power tools complete with the special shovel and pentacle charms. You can catch that here:
I also get to do an author’s confession and electronic giveaway on I Smell Sheep, a blog near and dear to me for my son’s nickname Sheep. Those goodies are not up yet, but here is their main site:
and you thought the undead skinless bunnies were all made up…
