Matt Manochio's Blog, page 4

5 Questions for Horror Writer Russell James

Author Russell James is making the rounds for his new Samhain Horror novel,��Dreamwalker. And I’m more than happy to have him by to pick his brain about his book, his writing habits and the future. Here’s my first question to him: Russell, why on earth did Pete Carroll call a pass play instead of giving the godd*mn football to Marshawn��Lynch to run into the end zone? My wife, who admittedly doesn’t know anything about football, knew that throwing the ball in that situation was terrible play calling. I’m sorry. That’s the question I’d like to ask Pete Carroll while I’m watching those cheating New England Patriots celebrate winning the Super Bowl. But whatever. This blog post is all about Russell. He’s a cool guy and I can’t wait to meet him in person at a horror convention down the road. So let’s get down to business!

1. Here’s a question you’re probably never seen before: What on earth inspired you to write Dreamwalker?

I have dreams with recurring storylines. I���ll be in some fictional place, and remember dreams where I���d been in that fictional place before. I wondered what it would be like if one of those places was real, another parallel reality to the one I was awake in. Dreamwalker came from that idea.

2. I understand there’s voodoo involved in Dreamwalker. Did you go about researching voodoo, and what it is and isn’t? And did anything surprise you about voodoo?

The voodoo research was interesting. I really didn���t know much about voodoo except for the casual and usually incorrect portrayals in movies. I hit the library and checked out two voodoo books. That got a pretty strange look from my wife when she saw those on the living room coffee table. ���It���s research for a novel��� is the world���s lamest excuse when you haven���t published a novel yet.

All the beliefs about the good loa and the evil petra��loa really fired up my imagination and gave me the antagonist, Cauquemere, a real voodoo petra loa. All the voodoo in the book is as close to actual as I wanted to make it without printing a how-to guide, because I wouldn���t want that responsibility. The thing that surprised me about voodoo is how ingrained it is in Haitian customs and beliefs. Enough people believe it dangerous that in was made illegal in Haiti in 1952. After reading some pretty hair-raising firsthand accounts, I was creeped out enough that I don���t want to get anyone messing with it.

3. I always ask authors about their writing habits, so: where do you write (home office, on the couch)? Do you have a specific word count you try to hit, or a number of hours you try to work?

I like to write in the dining room, which has all day southern exposure and excellent sunlight. Four or five hours a day is my maximum. At the point where everything I put down sounds perfect, I know it���s time to quit for the day.

4. Forget about all time: What’s the most influential work of horror you’ve read in the last five years, and why do you consider it as such?

I had an idea for novel about a plague that turns Long Island into a quarantine zone, and a mother has to escape with her son, who maybe��has the answer for a cure. I did some work on it and thought I could never pull it off. Then I read Joe McKinney���s Quarantine, about San Antonio being sealed off after an outbreak. It was so damn excellent, and it showed me that kind of world building was possible. I���m no Joe McKinney, but I thought my novel deserved a second look, and that became Q Island.

5. Can you tell us about any of your future projects? (I know authors like to keep mum until contracts are signed.)

This is a busy year. The above mentioned Q Island is due this summer. I also just had a historical novel of the life of John the Baptist published under R.R. James.

My writing group puts out science fiction anthologies that benefit Doctors Without Borders. We���ve published Out of Time , Still Out of Time and Centauri Station . All of them regularly rank in the anthology Top 50 on Amazon and we have sent thousands of dollars to Doctors Without Borders. A second space-themed collection is due in June.

I���ve got an almost finished horror novel about Satan trying to open the gate to Hell. Disney wants it as a movie, but I���m thinking of offering it to Samhain Horror first.

AC/DC needs an Animal

Now that AC/DC has announced the first (European) leg of the band���s 2015 world tour in support of its new album, Rock or Bust, it���s time to focus on who���ll be keeping time for the boys because current drummer Phil Rudd seems unfit for duty.

For those unawares, Rudd was arrested in New Zealand in November for threatening to kill, and possession of pot and meth. (Prosecutors dropped a murder-for-hire charge.) He���s demonstrated bizarre behavior (piggyback riding on one of his body guards, tussling with someone related to the case in front of a caf��, mumbling incoherent answers to media queries) and as a condition of bail is forbidden from consuming illegal drugs. (Shouldn���t that go without saying? That���s like letting a child molester out on bail on the condition that he not diddle kids. Well, duh.)

Anywho, AC/DC goes on tour in early May. Whether Rudd���s predicament is resolved by then (Rudd���s pleaded not guilty), who knows? But clearly Rudd, 60, needs help. His band mates complained that he was unreliably late when recording the new album in Canada earlier this year. He missed photo and music video shoots, forcing the band to hire a replacement drummer (Welshman Bob Richards) just for the videos. Even if Rudd beats the charges, would Angus Young and the boys want to put themselves in the position where Rudd flakes out and vanishes before a sold-out stadium show? I���m wagering no. So who���ll replace him?

Phil Rudd famously left the band in 1983 after a run-in with AC/DC���s founder, and former rhythm guitarist, Malcolm Young (who sadly was forced by dementia into retirement). Rudd rejoined in 1995 after apparently cleaning himself up and had no problems, it seems, until recently. So AC/DC���s hired drummers in the past. They were Simon Wright, who replaced Phil in the early 1980s and left the band in the early 1990s for other opportunities (he got bored with AC/DC���s repetitive style). The band hired Chris Slade to replace Wright. Both guys are fantastic drummers. The complaint against Slade was he was too fast a drummer for AC/DC���s style. And if you listen to the Live album from the early 1990s, you���ll notice the songs��� 4/4 beats are��faster than the way Phil plays.

I don���t know if AC/DC would dip into that well again despite, by band���s own admission, Wright and Slade being great at what they do. Bob Richards looks competent on the Play Ball and Rock or Bust videos, but that���s not him actually drumming. It���s Phil. Here’s Bob doing his thing.

But I have solved AC/DC���s problem. There���s been a guy playing drums almost as long as AC/DC���s been churning out instantly recognizable songs that all sound the same but different. As far as I know he doesn���t do drugs or kill people���although it���s safe to say he���s prone to violence but that hasn���t stopped Dr. Teeth from keeping him in the Electric Mayhem. And this drummer, like Phil, apparently, speaks nothing but gibberish. That’s right! Animal from the Muppets!

Animal’s been playing all that cutesie crap with the Electric Mayhem since the 1970s. Does animal look like he’d have a problem drumming to songs with lyrics that describe most of the things Phil Rudd apparently does when nobody’s looking (Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap)? No. Most of the guys in AC/DC are about 5 feet tall, so Animal will fit right in. I like this idea! There’s no way Janice from the Electric Mayhem could ever replace Malcolm Young (thank goodness for nephew Stevie). But Phil being replaced with a maniacal, enraged, bug-eyed monster with no known drug or alcohol problems?��Count me in for that one.

In all seriousness, I hope Phil cleans up his act and is found not guilty (that’s if he’s truly not guilty; if he did it, goodbye, Phil).��AC/DC doesn’t sound the same without��Phil’s workmanlike whomping of the drums.��And I hope he’s sitting on his stool, smoking his cigarettes, for what likely will be the band’s final world tour. But he put himself in this position. I never envisioned replacing Phil Rudd with a Muppet, but right now, it looks like only one of them is mature enough for the job. Let’s hope that changes.

The Midnight Society talks Krampus!

I want to call attention to the Melinda Harrison’s “Merry Krampus” post on The Midnight Society website. It’s a sleek website with reviews from folks who like their books a little bloody. And I’m glad they’re talking about Krampus. He needs to be chatted up in the United States!

Keep up the good work!

NJ 101.5 blogs about The Dark Servant!

I had a blast talking for a few minutes for NJ 101.5’s Steve Trevelise. He was nice enough to blog about The Dark Servant and me. Thanks Steve!

I’ll be on NJ 101.5 Thursday!

Jersey folks, I’ll be on NJ 101.5 (Dong!) Thursday (Dec. 18) at 9:07 p.m. to discuss The Dark Servant and Krampus with host Steve Trevelise. There will be giveaways for the book too! Please tune in.

Blog Talk Radio appearance set for Dec. 18!

I’m thrilled to announce that I’m scheduled to appear on Blog Talk Radio’s Whispers in the Dark program, hosted by Viktor Aurelius at 9 p.m. on Thursday, December 18!

As many of you know, I love radio in all of its forms and am looking forward to discussing The Dark Servant and Krampus, in general, with Viktor and his co-host, Jeff Niles. You can participate in the show by calling (347) 884-9923.

Please listen!

 

BREAKING: Woody Allen ‘horrified’ by Billy Cosby rape allegations

Source: The Internet

There was no safer comedian for a child to listen to growing up than Bill Cosby. I can still remember one Christmas Eve in the mid-1980s when an audio cassette copy of Bill Cosby Himself arrived in the mail. I still have that cassette and numerous others in a box somewhere in my parents’ house but I doubt I’ll ever listen to them the same way, or simply play them, again.

Cosby offered family friendly material and he rarely used obscenity to get laughs. I say rarely because he used them on occasion, and when he did, they were perfectly timed and placed in his routine.

“Why do we have to learn this shit?!”

That in and of itself isn’t an especially funny sentence. But Cosby used it as a punchline toward the end of an hour-long monologue I heard live at the NJ Performing Arts Center in 1997. An audience of thousands laughed uproariously. I mentally filed away not the joke itself, but the mechanics and timing, and still think it’s one of the most brilliant routines I’ve ever heard.

That was around the time Cosby was alleged to have fathered a daughter outside of his marriage–a charge he denied. Cosby took the stage while holding the hand of a little girl, and said, “ok, now go away, you’re not my daughter.” The audience laughed at Cosby’s ability to make fun of himself. Why? Because we couldn’t imagine The Cos doing anything like that.

Seventeen years later, I’m not so sure. And that’s a minor league accusation compared to the ones made by more than a dozen women, all of whom claim he drugged, molested or raped them. Some of these ladies were Playboy models who said the dirty deeds were done in the 1970s. The heat became so intense that Hugh Hefner was forced to leave the Mansion in his PJs to issue a statement saying, in part, that the allegations were truly saddening, and “I would never tolerate this kind of behavior, regardless of who was involved.” (That makes me chuckle because there are numerous other kinds of behavior that have occurred within that mansion that I, as a mortal man, could imagine tolerating but would also have to imagine hiring a good divorce lawyer.)

Yes, Cosby was married at that time, and still is, meaning that for all the decades I was laughing at his wholesome material, Cosby was allegedly engaging in–forget immoral–reprehensible, illegal behavior.

I’d like to be one of these people who immediately leaps to Cosby’s defense–but I’ve not seen or heard of any of these people. Maybe because they all smell smoke.

When you have mealy mouthed lawyers (and no yourself) addressing horrendous rape allegations lodged against you, then clearly something’s wrong.

I’ve seen nor heard a peep from Cosby, who’s hunkered down somewhere, not screaming from the rooftop that these allegations, all of them, are false and there’s nothing to them!

So, now the classic routine of a young Cosby seeking revenge on Junior Barnes by hitting him with a snowball saved in the freezer in July — only to learn Cos’s mother had thrown the snowball away: “So I went back outside and I spit on him” — I don’t find it funny any more. It saddens me to hear more than anything. Now, I can’t help but thinking what was Cosby up to in between recordings?

Woody Allen is by far one of the funniest essayists around. If you’ve never read Without Feathers or Getting Even, you’re missing out. I justify reading his material, knowing what he did, by saying “Just so long as he’s not babysitting my daughter, I can live with it.” Don’t get me wrong, Allen’s a creep. I sometimes read his essays or watch his movies, wondering if it’s acceptable for me to support this guy financially. Allen admitted to his behavior. Hell, he married the girl he seduced! It seems society hasn’t exactly applauded this unseemly behavior, but certainly has accepted it, perhaps somewhat begrudgingly.

I can’t live with what Cosby did–if he did it. And right now, Cosby’s giving me no reason to think he didn’t.

Thank you, Rush Limbaugh

Credit: The Rush Limbaugh website.

I like Rush Limbaugh.

Now that I’ve effectively guaranteed that The New York Times will never review my book, allow me to explain why I like the most-listened-to radio talkshow host in the United States.

The short answer is he mentioned my entire name and the title of my book on his show today. I provided neither my full name—Matt Manochio—or the book’s title—The Dark Servant. I was Matt from Netcong, NJ. I encourage you to read the call’s transcript and how Rush came to mention me. Whether my book sells more copies (I know I’ve sold at least one!) because of this, I’ll wait and see.

But there’s a longer answer to why I like Rush Limbaugh. Rush speaks passionately about the lengths people go to achieve success, and he laments when people who are capable of achieving success don’t try because of self-imposed limitations, or because success—however it’s measured— isn’t immediately achieved.

When you’re an unknown author, success rarely comes overnight. It sometimes takes years and several books under your belt. You have to plug away. And even then success isn’t guaranteed. You’ll experience failure in the form of rejection, be it from agents or publishers. But if you’re good enough, learn what you’re doing wrong, and persist you will get yeses. And those yeses matter. My point to Rush was that unknown authors must get blurbs from established writers, most of whom will say no. It’s not personal. It’s time consuming for established authors to squeeze in work they might not enjoy. But authors ask, and that led me to discuss a point Rush sometimes makes: Never be afraid to ask for something because you just might get it.

I asked at least 130 New York Times bestselling and/or Bram Stoker Award-winning authors and had a 6% success rate in getting blurbs: but that 6% accounted for 10 blurbs, an impressive haul that included some respected names. And I got them by asking, always respectfully, never pleading, always professionally.

The impetus for my call was a college professor’s study declaring the American Dream dead, and that upward mobility is an illusion. That’ll certainly be the case if you don’t try. And it will be the case if you abandon your passion. One of the things I wanted to tell Rush was how great it felt to write my book every day after work, not thinking it was something I had to do, but something I couldn’t wait to do. It’s a feeling I can’t describe but it’s something I hope everyone experiences in their life. I might not even sniff a bestsellers list, but I’ve achieved a personal goal, and whether it leads to massive financial success isn’t up to some force of nature. It’s up to me and my ability to tell a compelling story, to hook readers, and to spread the word about what I’m trying to do. If I wanted his listeners to take away anything, it was to at least try, and ask for help if you need to without losing your dignity.

I called Rush’s show and was greeted by the call screener, Bo Snerdley. I explained what I wanted to tell Rush about the blurbs, and told him I would not ask Rush for anything (otherwise authors would call Rush all the time). Bo took my data—Matt from Netcong—and sternly commanded me, I’m paraphrasing, not to plug my book on the air or else I’d come to regret it. I gave him my word I wouldn’t.

Now, Rush isn’t stupid. He sees on the call board that there’s an author on the line and that I’d be a fool not to want to plug my book. But I didn’t, I wasn’t tempted to. Rush sometimes allows authors to give their names and titles. I figured if the call went well, perhaps Rush would express interest. That didn’t happen. He commented on the point I brought up and went to break. That was that. I wasn’t able to plug my book, but I did get through to Rush Limbaugh’s show, which is no easy feat. People try for years and don’t get on. This was my second time trying (the first being last week) and I got through. And I’m certain he appreciated what I was saying. Success!

Rush returned from the break and then proceeded to identify both me and my book. I was sitting on my couch at home and my jaw dropped. It literally dropped. Rush said he appreciated that I was reserved in not attempting to shamelessly shill for myself, and explained that he Googled Matt and Netcong NJ and there I was. I didn’t ask for this nor was I expecting it. But it was a classy thing for Rush to do, and for that I’m thankful.

Jurassic World trailer breakdown! (Because somebody has to)

Like everyone who knows how to prioritize what’s important in life, I immediately disregarded all that monotonous rioting out of Missouri and focused on what we can glean from the newly released Jurassic World trailer. Watch it before you do anything else!

I know nothing about this movie other than what I saw in the trailer, but let’s analyze the flick’s ridiculous plot:

Apparently a mother and father–being loving and protective parents–thought it prudent to send their two boys–alone–for some fun and sun to an island crawling with tyrannosaurs. What could possibly go wrong? Mommy’s so excited, telling her youngest: “And remember, if something chases you–run!” Hey, mom: “No shit.” Sorry, that’s me. If you’re put off by blue language, then you shouldn’t have read that.

We see a tour boat cruising to a tropical island, and then people are on a train. Then the gates open to Jurassic World and we zoom inside! Finally, billionaire John Hammond’s long-imagined theme park now allows the same people who can’t name the vice president to munch cotton candy while gawking at ostrich-like, razor-clawed monsters that know how to open doors.

Next, we see Jurassic World’s sun-drenched main street teeming with tourists who are going in and out of souvenir shops and restaurants. It’s like a scene out of Disney World! (Yes, the tourists are bitching about $25 cheeseburgers–that don’t even come with a goddamn side of fries. And, if you can believe it, Jurassic World charges $100 for a plush triceratops that was made by slave labor in China. How much you wanna bet it’s stuffed with lead paint chips?)

Wow, Jurassic World, based on a few seconds of footage, is a safari! They’ve crammed tourists into a massive six-wheeled truck to drive them across grassland to see (I’m guessing) gallimimuses running alongside the vehicle! Kids, keep your arms inside the vehicle at all times, lest you wind up with bloody stumps right below your shoulders!

Not only can you cruise the savanna, you can — Jurassic World really lets you do this — board canoes so you can paddle down a river and watch stegosauruses and brontosaurs–that are about 50 feet away from you–lingering onshore. And I’m positive that if you piss off the brontosaur, you’ll easily be able to out-paddle it as it charges into the river to get you.

Next up, the Gyrosphere! I’m guessing Jurassic World is set in the future, a future where two children are deemed mature enough to man a gigantic mechanical hamster ball and roll next to a sauropod that, according to Wikipedia, can weigh up to 122 metric tons. And I’m guessing this is all on the first day! (Side note: Do you think Jurassic World charges extra to ride the Gyrosphere? Those bastards probably do. I mean, we’ve already dropped $1,000 for each general admission ticket–do you know how expensive that park’s insurance premiums must be?–and now they want me to spend an extra $250 to slip inside a ball after I’ve already wasted $125 on a cheeseburger and a poisonous stuffed triceratops. I know what you’re thinking: there’s no way I can afford the hookers in this place.)

Oh, Jurassic World has a Sea World-like amphitheater abutting the ocean, but instead of watching a dolphin leap from the water to snatch a cheese doodle (or whatever it is they eat) from a cheery teenage girl’s hand, we see–are you kidding me?–a great white shark hoisted 100 feet above the seawater? I don’t know about you but I’m shitting bricks at this point. Oh my GOD! A mosasaurus just sprang from the ocean and chomped up the great white shark whole! Not only that, the prehistoric sea monster splashed down in the “tank” and drenched the tourists closest to the edge. And the tourists are giggling, like Gallagher just splattered them with watermelon! That’s the exact moment when I yank my wife and son by their arms and say “We’re getting the fuck out of here!”

Uh-oh, I hear nefarious-sounding music and see Ron Howard’s daughter (sporting an evil Cruella de Vil-like look) for the first time since The Village. Something sinister’s up! Now we’re in a laboratory with eggs incubating and Ron’s daughter explaining mankind has mastered genetics and this has enabled Jurassic World to create a “genetically modified hybrid.” Now I’m hearing sounds similar to the new Godzilla’s creepy roar, and a hunky rugged guy saying “You just went and made a new dinosaur? Probably not a good idea,” and see a 4o-foot-tall wall with scratches all over it. Some other dude’s saying “You really think she climbed out?” Hunky rugged (and increasingly worried-sounding) guy says it depends on “what kind of dinosaur they cooked up on that lab.” Stop the tape!

If you’ve mastered genetics and are going to create a dinosaur–knowing full well that Jurassic World’s forefathers didn’t fare too well in the taming-genetically engineered-dinosaur department–why would you concoct a machete-toothed abomination that, according to hunky, rugged, looking-over-his-shoulder-every-five-seconds guy is a “highly intelligent animal” that will “kill anything that moves”? Can’t these white-coated geniuses brew up a cuddly dinosaur that has Hello Kitty’s temperament, marshmallow teeth, and can poop TCBY frozen strawberry yogurt? There’s something for everyone in there. But no! Now Ron Howard’s daughter is sweaty, scared and taking on the appearance of Ripley from Alien. Something huge is now chasing–making the earth thunder as it runs–after hunky, rugged, get-a-new-pair-of-underwear-scared guy. Oh, and now the frightened tourists are stampeding through Jurassic World’s main street, fleeing from something. Ron’s daughter screams “Run!” But from what? A terrified little boy is standing in the shadow of an enormous growling … we’ll have to wait for June 12 to see what. Hang on, it’s not over. Three or four velociraptors just burst from the starting gates you’d expect to see at the dog track. I’m not sure if this is an attraction–“Hey, kids, hurry up or we’ll miss the 12:45 velociraptor race!”–or if the dinosaurs escaped. Knowing Jurassic Park, it’s the latter. Yup, they’re now running alongside hunky, rugged, scared-to-the-point-of-exhaustion guy who’s riding a motorcycle at night. (Hell, why not?)

I can’t wait to see this movie even though it’s totally preposterous!

What to expect from your first author appearance …

Excited Krampus fans queue in front of the Barnes & Noble bookstore on Saturday, November 22, 2014, in Bridgewater, N.J., for Matt Manochio’s first-ever author event: a launch party for his debut supernatural thriller, The Dark Servant. OK, no, that didn’t happen. Well, the breadline did some 85 years ago. Chances are, if you’re a debut author, you won’t be seeing lines like this. But that’s OK! If all goes well, you’ll see a line, and you’ll likely recognize the faces.

Back when it appeared that The Dark Servant (Samhain Publishing) would publish–and a comet the size of Canada wouldn’t strike the Earth, probably pushing publication back a few million eons–I decided that I wanted to have one author event, which occurred on a brisk November Saturday night. I wanted this not so much to sell books, although that’s certainly a part of it, but more to mark an accomplishment that was years in the making. Here’s how it went:

Barnes & Noble’s Bridgewater (NJ) team created posters and displayed them around the store. Honestly, it was surreal seeing this when I walked inside a half hour before the 6 p.m. start, carrying a dozen donuts to give to the staff. First bit of unsolicited advice: Treat the staff well! Talk to them. They’ll be working with you throughout the night, and you might even have a potential customer or two among them. (And the ladies who took the donuts said booksellers indeed get appetites during the day, and were genuinely surprised [and pleased] to have received them.)

Next up, the display. B&N set me up in the back of the store in an open area where they placed 25 copies of my book.

Barnes & Noble did not provide the Krampus mask. I bought that months ago thinking it would draw attention (and it did) during any events I might do. What I didn’t know was that the store would set me up directly in front of the CHILDREN’S SECTION. Imagine little Jimmy scampering to the back of the store to get some Doctor Who Legos (or whatever) and coming face to face with a howling head of death. Life is scary, Jimmy. Get used to it. Oh, not pictured, but off to the right side, was a table of cookies and brownies. It’s a party, right? Feed the crowd, get folks to mingle. My wife suggested that food be served, and she was right as always.

Six o’clock rolled around and people began filtering in! And the stack of books quickly vanished because my friends and family members were buying multiple copies. I didn’t do any fancy advertising. Weeks, even months, before my release date I printed (don’t worry, it’s inexpensive) bookmarks featuring my cover and contact info and left stacks of them in multiple bookstores. Book sellers love getting things like that and don’t mind customers taking them. Spread the word, baby! Perhaps the most worthwhile thing I did was create an Event on my Facebook Author page and invite every friend on my feed, knowing full well a vast majority wouldn’t show–and that was fine! Honestly, people live in other states, don’t really know you well, or have better things to do on a Saturday night, like getting a tongue stud or maybe getting married.

(Good lord, is my hair receding that much?) Oh! Here’s the line! It didn’t wrap around the store, but it was long enough so that all 25 copies were off the table and in customers’ hands! It took about 15 to 20 minutes for this to happen. I didn’t even get a chance to try to convince a complete stranger to take a chance on me (and that’s gonna be the tough part–a live-and-learn, get-a-thick-spine trial by fire). Notice the gentleman speaking to me in the lower left hand corner? That’s the store manager informing me that the 10 author copies I brought along to sell on consignment–just in case the store ran out of books, which it did–were NOT allowed to be sold on consignment because B&N doesn’t do that. At least this store didn’t. (More unsolicited advice: find out whether the bookstore sells books on consignment before your event. I was under the impression I could, but it was never explicitly stated.) So now I was faced with the prospect of having copies of my book to sell in a book store, but I couldn’t because only copies ordered by the store could be sold. This led to the part of the evening I’ll remember for as long as my brain works. (Thanks Bob Karp for taking photos!)

Now, I couldn’t sell my author copies in the store. But I was never told I couldn’t sell them outside the store. Which led to me acting like a young Henry Hill from Goodfellas, selling non-taxed cigarettes in broad daylight before he gets pinched (“Never rat on your friends, and always keep your mouth shut.”).

Yes! That’s right! Ghetto book-selling from the trunk of my car! Although in fairness to me, my product isn’t illegal, to my knowledge, officer. It’s my goal to never leave a customer unsatisfied, even it if means somewhat illicit cash-for-book deals going down near the Men’s Warehouse in Central Jersey. I took a few trips outside with folks to, ah, take care of business. I felt like Walter White, but without (fortunately) the cancer, rage, and crystal meth. (Thanks, Maria Armental for snapping the photo!)

The fun part of the evening wasn’t signing books:

Things I’ve learned signing books (trade paperbacks) early in my fledgling career: Being left-handed is not ideal–you don’t want to crease a customer’s book with your left arm; a good pen helps–Stephen King (yes, that guy) has a wonderful staff that answers questions if you’re professional about it. I wanted to use the kind Stephen used during his recent Revival book tour because, well, you figure that by that point in the guy’s four-decade-plus career, he’d know what to use: a Uniball  Vision Elite pen with blue ink; and, lastly, it feels odd signing your name to your book. It just does. The only time you sign your name is on checks or when police take off the handcuffs so you can give written consent to search your trunk. You don’t really think about it when you’re doing it because the cops will NEVER find what they’re looking for–oops! I mean, it’s routine. Do I want to create an autograph with a flourish? These are things you think about during the down hours at work.

As I said, the fun part wasn’t the autographing, it was talking with friends I’d not seen in a long time–months or years, truly thanking them for supporting me. It’s not easy asking someone to part with hard-earned money. It was thanking my wife for putting up with me in the weeks leading up to the event. And it was the goofing around:

I’m thinking Stephen King didn’t don a rabid, slobbery Saint Bernard dog mask during the Cujo book tour in the early 1980s. But what the heck? Thanks again, Bob Karp!

In the end, the event was fun and we sold every copy! I’d heard that a Houghton Mifflin cookbook author, who was in the middle of a multi-city, nationwide book tour, was there earlier in the day for a signing and that our crowd blew hers out of the water. That made me feel good, not because I’m malicious or hold ill will toward cookbook authors, but because I wanted my event to go well, to hopefully make an impression on the store: Authors from smaller presses can do good work and can bring people into the store. I’m not sure what Barnes & Noble was expecting, but I don’t think they expected what happened that Saturday night. My tip to any bookstore manager: if you see an author who wants to schedule a signing and who has an Italian last name, immediately order an additional 15 books. I am grateful that the good folks at Barnes & Noble in Bridgewater gave me a chance there. I also paid my respects by buying a book: Stephen King’s Cell. I walked out of the store that night feeling good about my first event. Hopefully more events, and more fun, await.