Stephen Graham Jones's Blog, page 256

Publishers Weekly and Werewolves

Specifically, my werewolves:

Three More for the Shelf

Last three I read over the last . . . ten, twelve days? Something like that. I know, I know: how have I ever called myself a horror writer without having this one on my mental bookshelf? No excuse. It’s good, too. Most interesting, maybe, is the way Bloch starts so many of the chapters by kind of peeling up the last one, and then going through what went on over here in the story while that other chapter was happening. The effect, of course, it’s that we kind of a see the thing developing from a lot of angles, and come out feeling we know it pretty well. I don’t think I’d ever do it, or recommend someone do it, as it always feels like padding, like the writer’s nervous there’s not actually enough story here, so’s making sure to document every single footstep. But it works here. Also? I was able to pair this up with seeing on the big screen, in 35mm, which was about the coolest thing ever. How not to love the novel that puts one of my most cherished and dear songs up on a pedestal, and makes it key to the drama? But I don’t say what it is, just that it comes to suffuse the whole story. No, that’s the wrong word. It’s pulsing red line of magma tendriling up between the whole story. Were I blurbing it, here’s what I’d say: You’ll have ash on your fingertips by the last sooty page. Ash on your fingertips, an ember smoldering in your chest,  . . . → → →

Three for the Shelf

Meant to write this last weekend, when these were actually the last three books I’d read, but . . . I don’t exactly recall: something went on to keep me from doing that. However, I already can’t remember whatever book I read this week, so, kind of technically, these are still the last three books I read, each of which I very highly recommend: This is my favorite Paul Tremblay. Which—he’s got some good ones. The way this one ratchets the tension up then continually kicks your feet our from under you, it’s pretty riveting. The mark of a good novel for me is if I’m stealing time from the rest of my day in order to sneak a few more pages in. I stole a lot of time for this book. I want to give you a mashup—this book is book X via book Y, with some Z in there as well—but I’d rather you experience it pure, like I did. And then carry it with you into the rest of your life. I’ve yet to read an Adam Cesare novel that didn’t A) immediately reach up from the page, grab me by the Dennis Rodman lapels, and pull me facefirst into the story, or B) get me to fall head over heels for this world before I’m even a quarter of the way through the book. Seriously, Cesare’s got good narrative instincts, and he knows the horror genre—both fiction and film—as intimately as anyone out there. Talking this one in particular, one thing  . . . → → →

Brushdogs

So cool, having this one read aloud, and read aloud so well. Click the image to go the place:  

Some Kind of Hate

This is the best horror I’ve seen since—since Deathgasm, I guess. But Deathgasm was playing it for laughs. This one, it’s out for blood. And there’s gallons of it. What I dig about it the most? It’s not the Holes setting, it’s not that the main guy could be the fire-kid from Sky High (really, he’s Michael Pare in his Eddie and the Cruisers days), and it’s not that this feels like “Danny Zuko” goes to reform school, and Sandy’s already there,” though any of those would be more than enough reason for me to be falling over myself to say good things about this movie. No, what works the best, I think, it’s that Some Kind of Hate manages to take the same social commentary/hot topic issue as Unfriended did (bullying), but then build it right onto the backbone of the first Friday the 13th. Seriously. Watch this movie, tell me it’s not an update on ‘counselors getting their just desserts.’ And, like that wouldn’t be enough, then Some Kind of Hate has the nerve to come up with the flat-out coolest mechanism for killing I’ve seen since—maybe since Freddy? This is ghost-fingers crawling out of Sarah Michelle Gellar’s head-cool. Really, halfway through this one I had to stop, check who wrote it, because everything about it feels Jeffrey Reddick. Remember that bathroom-kill in Tamara, at the party? That’s the closest I can come to explaining Some Kind of Hate. I couldn’t have been more impressed. By far—and I think I’ve seen most of the big  . . . → → →

Ye Olde Writing Tips

First among them would be Don’t adopt antiquated speech patterns and/or diction for your subject lines, unless you’re Cormac McCarthy. But even he (He) doesn’t use “ye”—which, correct me if I’m wrong, but nobody did, right? It was just a tyopgraphic/typesetting shortcut, which still  got a proper “the” when read off the page. Anyway, searching for a different email, I stumbled on this/below: Chizine hit me up for ten writing tips they could tweet out into birdland and beyond. But that was two years ago, and there’s zero chance I could ever find them, and less chance I ever stumble onto this dark corner of my inbox again, so, this post will be my preserving jar: If the story ends up where you initially wanted it to, maybe try again. Always leave room for your Jean Greys to come back to life. Don’t be afraid of being funny. Be terrified of TRYING to be funny. Stack coincidence at the front of a story rather than cheating with it at the end. Never fall in love with your own sentences. Read books you completely expect to hate. Your significant other is not your first reader. Not if you want them to remain significant. Edit your own work while pretending to be your worst, most petty enemy. Always secretly know that every good review you pull, it’s your mother in disguise. Never hate on the audience for not reading you. That’s always your fault.

Guilty as Charged

First Mongrels interview

Is live, over at Muzzleland Press:

PI Grad Seminar

Thinking I might need to do one of these soon. Or, I’m thinking of trying out an undergrad senior seminar on Alan Moore’s work, then—different semester (as I’m a sane human)—something like this course. How do I know when it’s getting to be time to try this kind of stuff? Because the books start lining up in my head, and I can’t stop thinking about them. So, tentatively, I’d start with the core-stuff, of course:     And, yeah, we’d probably go back for: But would try to stop there—no Poe, no Doyle (except of the Popeye variety). Just because, yeah, there were definitely some early independent investigators, but they weren’t as downtrodden, as underdoggy, as—as a result of the first two—surly and wonderfully-voiced. Anyway, not sure about ‘next,’ but next for us might be: Which, really? That right there is just about as good as it gets, if you ask me. And, while I’d be tempted to use some Lehane . . . I don’t know, I might? At this point in this make-believe list, though, I’m seeing how it’s so all dudes. And that’s not too great. Am I just not thinking of the iconic PI novels written by women? Surely that’s it, because surely there’s a lot. I’ve read some Evanovich and Grafton, but—well, was going to say none fit, but Evanovich actually kind of does, often (if we can count bounty hunters) (and I think we definitely can). And Grafton does too, now that I think about it. But where best to start  . . . → → →

Podcasts

I should have put a podcast category on my 2015 list. I’ll just do a whole post instead. Because a lot of them deserve a wider audience, and, honestly? Not sure I could really pick a favorite. Podcasts are so . . . situational, like. At the gym I want one thing, driving another, walking across campus yet a different one. And, when I know the hosts, or the guests, that’s yet another variable to factor in. Like, I like you, dude, sure. But I don’t want you driving to Denver with me right now. Rather sit with a stranger for a bit. So, here’s the one I subscribe to: Booked (of course) Mystery Show (just wish there were more more more) Serial (okay, haven’t listened yet, but just from fear: I hear they’re way addictive) Lore (perfectly balanced, wonderfully researched) Nightmare Magazine The Moth Podcast Literary Disco (this and Booked used to be my only two) Pseudopod Bat Segundo (first podcast I ever listened to, not counting something McInerney did for a book tour years and years ago. also maybe the first podcast I was ever on? though I was on The Velvet too, way back when) This is Horror (they bring it) The Outer Dark (Scott and Justin are excellent hosts) Miskatonic Musings (these dudes crack me up) Lightspeed Clarkesworld (I lied, above—I’ve been listening to Clarkesworld for a good long while, too) I also download eps from: Meet the Author Myths and Legends World Book Club New Yorker And also from shows that  . . . → → →