OPERATION: THUNDERBIRD
The following first appeared in my now out-of-print book, Leader of the Banned. I am revising it substantially for its appearance here. As for why it is appearing here, it’s Monday, which is when I usually run an essay, but I’m finally making headway on various works in progress (novel Sixty-Five Stirrup Iron Road is now in the editing process, for example), so this week, y’all get a rare reprint, and I get to keep writing.
UPDATE: Okay, it’s Sunday. Not Monday. I meant to save this post but hit publish by mistake. Enjoy it one day early! Without further ado, here’s OPERATION: THUNDERBIRD
A few years ago, me, Geoff Cooper, and J. F. Gonzalez were sitting around Coop’s kitchen table, drinking coffee and talking shop. This is something writers are prone to do. I suppose its the same way for friends employed in other professions, as well.
During the conversation, I mentioned my desire to write a big, sprawling, epic literary novel — something decidedly non-genre. Coop and Jesus asked what was stopping me, and I told them it was because I’d never be able to sell such a book. Coop called bullshit on that, and stated that at this point, I could sell my fucking laundry list as long as it had my name on it.
Naturally, I took offense at this, and proposed a friendly little wager. The three of us would craft the absolute worst book proposal ever, and then I would shop it around as a new novel by myself. When nobody offered to buy it, I’d prove that Coop was wrong.
For the rest of the afternoon, the three of us worked on a synopsis for a novel called Thunderbird. It was a weird western — the first intentional stumbling block, since it’s very, very hard to sell a mixed genre novel, especially one that mixes horror and westerns — to a big publishing house. The plot was ludicrous beyond belief, and we had a great time trying to top each other with it.
Thunderbird was the story of two Civil War deserters — one from the Union and the other from the Confederacy. They both abandon their posts and head out West together, taking along their trusty beloved cannon, which they’ve affectionately named ‘Betsy’. Eventually, the two men find work on a cattle ranch in New Mexico, and all is well until a pterodactyl comes out of a canyon and starts eating the cattle. With the help of a Native American medicine man, some aliens, and the ever-reliable Betsy, the men defeat the Thunderbird.
When we were finished, we’d put together something that not even the Sci-Fi Channel would want. The story was ridiculous. The history was muddled and full of inconsistencies. There was no way this book should sell. Except that I pitched it and a whole bunch of publishers said, “A new Brian Keene novel? Sure, we’ll take it!”
Looking back, I think that’s when my alcohol consumption really increased…
Coop and J.F. got a good giggle from the whole thing. We told Mike Oliveri about it later and he said, quote: “You asshole. Most of us bitch about not being able to sell a book. You bitch about selling a book.” And then, since Mike is one of my oldest friends in this business, I was overcome with guilt and proceeded to sell two books for him, and that is how I began moonlighting as an unofficial agent.
Writers can learn two very important lessons from Operation: Thunderbird.
1. Coop is always right.
2. The only person that will truly look out for your writing career is you. Agents, editors, publishers, peers — they all mean well (most of the time), but their priorities are different than yours, and as a result, their advice is geared toward what they think is best for you, and what they want for you, rather than what you think is best for yourself or want for yourself. The advice of agents, editors, publishers, and other writers must always be suspect. This doesn’t mean they are necessarily malicious. It just means that they are driven by factors that may not necessarily jibe with what you want. Author, know thyself, because nobody else ever really will, except maybe those in your audience who can read between the lines.
And now, here is the actual pitch proposal for THUNDERBIRD. Keep in mind, that Coop, J. F. Gonzalez and I were attempting to come up with the worst book pitch ever in an effort to prove that my publishers weren’t buying things simply because I’d written them. What follows is the synopsis that I then sent to several different publishers. The character of Two-Dogs comes from my favorite joke of all time, the punch-line of which is, “Why do you ask, Two-Dogs Fucking?” If you’ve never heard the joke, ask me to tell it to you sometime.
Author: Brian Keene
Proposed Title: Thunderbird
Length: 90K
Projected Manuscript Completion: December 2005
High Concept: A new twist on the weird western.
Clayton and Owen are tired — tired of the unspeakable things they’ve seen during the Civil War. During a pitched battle, they desert from their respective armies and make their way West, seeking a new life and new opportunities. They take only the clothes on their backs, their rifles, their beloved horses, and their good luck charm — a cannon named ‘Betsy’.
The journey brings them to New Mexico, a wild new territory on the American frontier. Along the way, they encounter the grisly remains of a wagon train. Mutilated bodies — human, horse and cattle, lay strewn about the valley floor. Wagons are broken into timber. Several have had their roofs torn off. Others look as if they were dropped from a great height.
Continuing on, they are hired by Rafe Callahan, a rancher. His land covers hundreds of miles, and his ranch lies beneath the shadow of “Thunderbird Mountain”. Clayton begins a tentative romance with the rancher’s daughter, Colleen. One of Callahan’s cowhands is an Indian named Two-Dogs. He informs Clayton and Owen that according to Native American legend, a Thunderbird sleeps beneath the mountain.
Callahan’s cattle begin disappearing. Some vanish without a trace. Dismembered pieces of others are found along the prairie — in the same condition as those from the grisly wagon train. Then people start disappearing, as well. A large, winged shadow is spotted in the night sky, and terrible, piercing cries are heard echoing over the plains.
The Thunderbird, a pterodactyl, has begun hunting along the prairie. For years, it was content to forage on the mountain, but with the arrival of the settlers and their plentiful herds (and the fact that it has a nest of newborns to feed) it is ranging farther from the mountain — right over the ranch.
When Colleen becomes one of the missing, Clayton, Owen, Two-Dogs, and several other men storm the mountain, determined to rescue her and to learn the secret of the Thunderbird. They find the nest, and slaughter the babies while the mother is away. They find a scrap of Colleen’s dress in the nest and fear the worst — but discover that she managed to escape, and is stuck on a ledge below. They rescue her, but the mother pterodactyl returns, furious at what’s happened to her brood. She pursues them back to the ranch, and in a final battle, they kill the Thunderbird with Betsy the cannon and the help of some aliens who had a base inside the mountain.
