Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Sunday, March 29, 2015

The Backlist Project is Nigh Complete

Possibly the most anticipated book
I've put out so far. The other half of
the Sam Bowen story. Ta Dah!

I love that word, "nigh." It's so delightfully Biblical to me. But that's not what we're here to talk about. Bowen's Bluff, the second Sam Bowen volume, dropped this weekend in paperback form. I'll have the ebook figured out soon. That leaves only one book: The Third and final Con-Dorks volume, One in a Million.

I've needed to rescue and resuscitate my backlist for years now. I was all set to do it a couple of years ago, but I went and wrote a bunch of comics that, as it turns out, will never see the light of day. Ah, well. Sometimes you back the wrong horse, you know?

 Once One in a Million drops, next month, that'll be it. I had seven books that needed to be reprinted and updated for ebook consumption. There's eight because Fight Card collection, The Adventures of Sailor Tom Sharkey, slipped in there when no one was looking.  Not that I'm complaining. I love the book and I'm happy those stories have found a collected home.

Coming soon: the final chapter
in the Con-Dorks Saga and it's
a doozy, I tell you what.
I never started this project to make money. Well, let's back up: I didn't publish all of these books to get rich. I fully expected to make a little dough off of the endeavor. And so far, that's exactly what's happened; a little dough. Twenties of forties of dollars. A couple hundred and change, truth be told. I did it so they would serve as a backdrop for other, more recent work coming out this year (and hopefully next). I've got NEW books, see, and they will need some love. But in the meantime, let's see what we can do about this stuff, shall we?

Let's do a contest: I've done some review trawling from you before, but now I'm upping the ante with genuine loot from the past. Collectible, interesting stuff, at that. 

I'm a once and forever member of Clockwork Storybook, a writer's collective that was founded by four people: myself, Matt Sturges, Chris Roberson, and Bill Willingham. We started out as a writer's group to work on our prose, and quickly decided we'd get a lot better, a lot quicker, if we learned how to write fiction in front of a live audience. So, we created a fictional city, San Cibola, and made a shared world out of it. The "online magazine" was updated monthly, and sometimes more frequently, as we were prone to pulling a lot of stunts like 30-day Novel challenges and the like. Our goal was to eventually transition into a print medium, and in this regard, we were only about 10 years ahead of the trend.

Yes, that's Bill's art on the cover. He also illustrated his
story, too. It's very cool.
One of our first projects was a series of chapbooks, designed to get our beaks wet for page layout, printing, and all of that complicated stuff. Our first one was called Offline Volume 1: Mythology, and it featured an original prose story from each of us, not available on the website, with illustrations by our friends. This was our calling card as we started making the rounds at Texas conventions. We sold hundreds of these things. Not thousands, but definitely hundreds.

Now they are all but gone. I've got five spare copies of Offline Volume 1: Mythology to give away and I will do just that. All you gotta do is pick one of my books that you have read over this past year and post a review somewhere that you can point me to it. Amazon, Good Reads, wherever there's decent traffic. That's it! I'll pick my five favorites and send you a rare piece of Clockwork Storybook history. I will even sign it, if that's your bag, baby. Once you have the review up, shoot me a Tweet or an IM or however you get ahold of me, and point me to where it is. I will in turn contact you for mailing instructions.  How does that sound?

Just to sink the hook a little deeper, here's the Table of Contents:

Mythology by Bill Willingham
illustrated by the author

Persuasion by Matt Sturges
illustrated by Harold Covey

A Port in a Storm by Chris Roberson 
illustrated by Doug Potter

An Encounter at Leed's Point
by Mark Finn
illustrated by Mack White


Okay, that's all you need from me! Review! Review for your lives!







Tuesday, January 21, 2014

What I'm Up to, 2014 Edition: Wonderbook, Bookmaking, and Making Progress

It's been a while, folks, and I'm sorry for the delay. I've been getting my ducks all in a row for this massive, year-long project to reclaim my productivity. I've been working on a bunch of smaller projects, and in the past few years, some things have gotten pushed aside for one reason or another. Mostly it's been my creative writing. Last year, I was all set to start this process again, and I got an offer that I couldn't (at the time) refuse. So I put this aside once again and, well, I kinda backed the wrong horse, in hindsight.

No more. My modest goal this year is to write 500,000 (that's half a million to you and me) words in the service of creative writing. This will mostly be prose; short stories, novels, comics and you know, maybe even a radio script or two. I've got a list of short stories I need to work on, and three novels in various stages of completion. It's time to clear the decks.

This is Jeff, leaning forward to imply action.
One of the tools in my utility belt is a new book by Jeff Vandermeer, called Wonderbook: The Illustrated Guide to Creating Imaginative Fiction. It's not a "how to" book, meaning, Jeff doesn't tell you to "write this way," which is good. I can't read those kinds of books. They mess me up. But I'm very interested in Jeff's thought process, and so I'm going to start going through the book, section by section, and posting the results here. Sometimes, I'll be assignments that grew out of the reading. Other times, I may talk about what he says about certain things. It's going to be a regular thing on the blog, and I'll tag it for you in case you want to follow those posts. If Jeff did his job, I'll come away at the end of the book with a fresh perspective, some new building blocks, and hopefully a finished story or two. Maybe another book. We'll see. I'm open to this and hope you'll find it interesting. I like Jeff a lot and respect him immensely as a writer, and even though his tastes in movies utterly baffles me, when we agree on something, it's usually ironclad. It'll be cool to take this "creative writing class" from him.

So, 500,000 words is a lot to generate, but why stop there? I've got several books that's I've had published, or nearly so, just laying fallow. It's time to dust them off, and reprint them in an ebook format. Specifically, I've got six books that I'm going to turn out in small batch paperbacks, followed by ebooks. This is mostly stuff from the Clockwork Storybook years, but in the case of the "Con-Dorks" novels, the final chapter was published online just last year. Putting them all out is going to feel so good. I'm really excited about getting all of this stuff back into print. I've even cleaned up my Amazon Author's Page.

Why am I doing all of this? It's real simple. I've got newer projects that I want to get to, and this old stuff is holding me back. I don't mean that in a negative way; rather, I want to clean house, finish up these things that are still in my head, and in general, get back to writing daily, producing weekly, and selling stories--and maybe even a book or two. I have people ask me all the time when I'm going to finish X or come out with Y or publish another Z.

The answer is now. This year. 2014. Stick around. I'll share what I can, when I can, with you guys, and I'll let you know about new and upcoming projects.


Saturday, December 7, 2013

That Old Christmas Spirit: A Heartwarming Yuletide Nightmare



Author's note: This is an old story I wrote back in the days of Clockwork Storybook. We wrote a lot of Christmas stories during our run, of varied quality, but I really like this one, still. It sums up most of my feelings about Christmas nicely. It was literally inspired by a dream I had, and it scared the hell out of me at the time. I tried to make the "off the rails" part of the story just like my dream. You can let me know if I succeeded or not. Hope you enjoy it! 

“Santa Claus, Daddy!” Martin Hartsfield tugged frantically on his father’s arm, to no avail. He leaned into the task of attempting to steer the grown-up away from the Old World Sausage Shoppe and into the North Pole Pavilion of Guildcrest Mall.
“Marty, calm down!” Joseph Hartsfield’s tone was rougher than he’d intended, but Christ, that kid was driving him nuts.
“But Daaaad...” whined Marty, the nasal tone raking down Joseph’s spine.
“Son,” said Joseph, as he leaned down and turned the six-year old around to face him, “do you remember our deal?”
Marty’s expression went from petulant to thoughtful.
“What we talked about on the way here? If you’re good and quiet and help me out tonight, we’ll go see the Christmas lights.”
“Yeahbut, Dad, that’s Santa Claus over there!” Clearly this changed the deal in Marty’s eyes.
Joseph didn’t even glance over his son’s shoulder. “Did you see the line over there? Son, the mall will be closed before you can even get to talk to him.”
“Yeahbut...”
“Marty, I promise, we’ll come back later, when it’s not so crowded.” Say, in June, Joseph thought. “Now, if you want to see the Christmas lights tonight, then you’ll be a big kid and help me out, okay?”
“Aw, but Daaaad...”
“Okay,” said Joseph, standing up, “here are your choices: keep quiet and help me out, then we’ll go see the Christmas lights, or keep whining and go home with nothing. What’s it going to be, son?”
Marty hung his head. “Aw, I guess I’ll be quiet.”
“Good,” Joseph said. They resumed walking. “While you’re being quiet, why don’t you tell me what you’re going to ask Santa for this Christmas?”
Marty’s eyes lit up. The Santa incident now forgotten, he started in on his list, rapid fire. “I want a Gameboy with the Pokemon Gold, and an Action Man with the blow gun thing, and Spyro for the Xbox...”
Joseph let him chatter away while he gnashed his teeth at the whole thing. Christmas was for the kids now, not the adults. He surveyed the mall, bedecked to overflowing with silver and gold tinsel, red and green wreathes. Every single store had some overt way to signify that it was indeed Christmas, and all of your shopping needs could be taken care of in one fell swoop if you would just come inside. Joseph hunched his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling grinchy. It had been like this since early November, for Christ’s sake! As if anyone needed any reminders. 

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Advice for the 21st Century Virtual Critic

Last week, the Interwebs were aflame in a massive troll fight between some Young Adult authors and the people who read them--which can include thirteen year old girls, but doesn't always. The Book Pushers gave an amazingly succinct blow by blow recap of the entire kerfluffle as it played out across the social media platforms like a Jerry Springer stripper fight that meanders backstage and out across the audience before coming to rest in one of the chairs, held apart at arm's length by Steve.

What it basically boiled down to is this: a reader said some fairly insulting things about an author and his work. Other authors jumped in, saying to leave off the personal attacks, and oh yeah, yer mother, and it spiraled out of control from there.  But it touched upon something that I've had a serious problem with for some time now: there's no filter for the Internet. By that I mean that when some Mountain Dew-addled seventeen year old clicks through on a link to a movie trailer for a pop culture property they have no prior knowledge of, and right underneath the trailer is a blank space, fairly begging for a comment, there's nothing to prevent them, either internally or externally from typing "this sucks" and then going on their merry way. Nothing. When have seventeen year old kids ever had to be thoughtful and articulate?

But some of them have seen the value, or maybe just the cache, in being some kind of online presence or personality. And since everyone in cyberspace wants to participate in a global conversation, these Cyber-Pundits have popped up on places like You Tube, the Internet Movie Database, and Amazon. They are even called "reviewers" by some sites, and this may have lulled many of them into thinking that they are a critical voice that actually matters.

For every thoughtful, articulate, and cogent reviewer on Amazon, there are twenty sub-literate Howler monkeys with a grasp of English that can only be called Byzantine and not an iota of taste in their mouth, much less in their heads.

It's gotten so that I cannot even participate in these conversations anymore, if they ever were conversations in the first place. A conversation implies a give and take, back and forth. Website comment boxes are more like, "Step up to this line, and try to shout so that your voice is heard on the other side of the lake." As someone who has written reviews, and as someone who has been reviewed, I'm not trying to pick a new fight here. What I am saying is this: in a medium comprised entirely of words (emoticons have never counted), what you say and how you say it is everything. Period.

In other words, if you're just a reader who likes to say "It sucked" when you come across a book that didn't hold your interest with every sentence on the page, that's fine, I can't stop you. Just make it clear to me that you're that person, and not trying to influence other people with your post. Don't act like your screed is anything other than your subjective, biased, and scarcely nuanced opinion.  It's not a review. It's certainly not a review I can use, nor can anyone else--unless they feel like starting a little online slap-fight.

See, what makes a good reviewer good is his or her ability to write about a book, even one they didn't personally care for, in such a way that it doesn't scorch the Earth beneath it. Reviewers, like essayists, reporters, and even fiction writers, should have a viewpoint. That's how you not only connect with the people who want to know what you think (because they share your viewpoint) but you also make yourself useful to people who don't share your viewpoint by bringing up relevant criteria that can be used to make an informed opinion.

Example: Marc Savlov is a writer for the Austin Chronicle, and he's made it very clear throughout his decade and a half of movie reviews that he is a closet geek. He likes that stuff, but he's a little embarrassed to admit it. And so, he tends to be harder on X-Men movies than other people. Most genre movies, for that matter. So, when I read a Savlov review, I know I can automatically add one star to anything he writes about with lasers or dinosaurs or superheroes in it and that'll line up with my own tastes. Roger Ebert is another great example of someone whose tastes are out there, for everyone to see, and so you just know how to adjust whatever Ebert is saying to how you like your movies.

These guys have something else going for them: they are deeply knowledgeable. They don't talk about Blade Runner being the best film noir movie ever made because they've seen Out of the Past. When "new" film noir movies come out, Ebert weighs all of the other film noir movies against the new one and can talk about what worked and what didn't. And I trust him, because I've seen the books he's written.

If you're online, and you're not even using your real name, then guess what? You have to establish your credibility if you want to be a reviewer. It's okay to like weird movies, and it's even okay to champion new stuff as greater and better than everything before it. But you need to understand that classics are called classics because they are inarguably classics. I'm sorry if you haven't seen Raiders of the Lost Ark because it's like, 30 years old and stuff. But it's one of the most influential movies of the 20th century. If you haven't seen it, and can't spot the obvious swipes in some crummy action film, then guess what? You're not a credible reviewer, and anything else you say from that moment forward is suspect. In a nutshell, if you're going to wax intellectual, you'd better know your shit.

Finally, it is possible to say you hate a book without saying it sucks. It's actually pretty easy to do. All you have to do is add the phrase, "In my opinion," before you pronounce judgement, and then back up what you didn't like about the book--specifically. Was the language too garbled? Was the dialogue unbelievable? Was the plot contrived? Did it feel too much like "X" book or series? See, that's a valid thing to bring up. Some authors in fact make a point of trying to do their "Tolkien riff." If I'm a Tolkien fan, and I'm tired of re-reading The Hobbit, then your comments might actually help me, even as they are establishing your bona fides on your critical yardstick. But you shouldn't presume that the author is a terrible person, nor that the people that like their books are sub-literate chuckleheads. If you have that strong a reaction to a book, then clearly you were not the target audience. Moreover, how on Earth did you even think to pick up such a thing in the first place? You probably read an online review.

When I was a book seller (for years and years) I was called upon to give my opinion about books on a daily basis. Now, this can be tricky. If I tell someone about a book that I hated, that I think sucked, and I say it's the greatest thing ever, then that's a lie. And if they buy that book based on my lie, and hate the book, then guess what? I've lost all of my credibility.

Over the years, I learned the value of tact. It's perfectly okay to say to someone asking about, say, Henry Miller, that "I'm not the best person to ask for a recommendation. I don't personally care for him. I think he's a little too gimmicky." If they asked for more, I'd tell them what made Miller's writing more of a blog trick than actual prose. But I'd always end with, "But that's just me. Other folks here love Miller and can tell you why he's great." I'm not putting down anyone who likes Miller. I'm just explaining why I don't. See how that works? Let me say this out loud, so there can be no misunderstanding: if you're not capable of doing that every time you hit a movie, or book, or record that you don't like, then you're not going to be an effective critic. You're just going to be another nameless, faceless voice in an already crowded Internet yelling "IT SUCKS" from the other side of the lake.

Take a moment to decide if you're a reviewer, or if you're just a reader. If you want to be a reviewer, then you've got to be brilliant. Or gifted. Or both. But if you just want to be a reader, and just want to be able to say what you think, without all of that other stuff getting in the way, then make the effort to say what you mean and mean what you say. Use your words. You're a reader. You of all people should know the value of written communication.

For those of you who actually aspire to honing a critical reputation of some kind, well congratulations. You just became writers. And with that comes all of the things that every other writer on the planet needs to know. All of the rules. All of the perils and pitfalls. You are now just as accountable for the things you write (for little or no money) as the rest of us writers working for little or no money. Again, let me stress: choose your words carefully.

At least, that's what I think.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

On the Subject of the World Fantasy Award Statue…

 
I’ve been watching the recent discussions over redoing the World Fantasy Award statue, scrapping the iconic Gahan Wilson-designed bust of H.P. Lovecraft for something or someone less…controversial. Less bad. Less racist-y.

Nnedi Okorafor got the ball rolling with this blog post wherein she states:
 Do I want “The Howard” (the nickname for the World Fantasy Award statuette.   Lovecraft’s full name is “Howard Phillips Lovecraft”) replaced with the head of   some other great writer? Maybe. Maybe it’s about that time. Maybe not. What I  know I want it to face the history of this leg of literature rather than put it aside or  bury it. If this is how some of the great minds of speculative fiction felt, then let’s  deal with that... as opposed to never mention it or explain it away. If Lovecraft’s  likeness and name are to be used in connection to the World Fantasy Award, I think there should be some discourse about what it means to honor a talented  racist.

The Outer Alliance had some prescient thoughts here as well. And while both of the above seem to be calling for some sort of moderated discussion, the majority of the responses seem to be of the “Yeah, I never liked this guy because he’s a racist and a misogynist anyway!” variety. It feels like a lot of people in the SF/F community want to tar and feather Lovecraft, and moreover, have wanted to do so for some time. And changing the design of the statue is exactly the right message to send to all racists…or something…

I’m not here to pile on, and I’m also not here to throw stones. I truly don’t have a horse in this particular race. But I am confused especially when so many of my fellow authors and colleagues seem to be of one mind on the subject. I cannot help but wonder aloud if Lovecraft’s views on race are really what you take away from a reading of his works?

I mean, seriously: when you read “The Dunwich Horror,” do you put the book down and think, “Man, Lovecraft hated black people”? Is that the take-away message from reading his Cthulhu Mythos stories? Wait, before you answer that, consider a couple of recent opinions by people not necessarily so mired in the F/SF world. A few years ago, when Lovecraft finally cracked the Library of America series with a collection of stories selected by Peter Straub (and curiously, he chose not to include the poem "On the Creation of Niggers" in his book), a couple of reviewers weighed in on Lovecraft in the most recent round of criticism and commentary.

Daniel Handler, aka Lemony Snicket, wrote a review of the book wherein he said:
While the notion of an unseen world is hardly unique to Lovecraft -- fantasists from Coleridge to Rowling have enjoyed peeking under earthly rocks -- one can hardly imagine a universe more removed from our own than that of Cthulhu. Biologically impossible, logistically unplumbable and linguistically unpronounceable, it's a world that makes you want to lock up all the wardrobes rather than venturing inside them. It is little wonder that the scarred witnesses of Cthulhan excursions talk to us in language as unspeakably florid as the universe they're attempting to describe. Lovecraft's narrators are all desperate with misery, and it is worth quoting several of these hysterics as they begin their tales, to approximate the accumulated tone of so much hand-wringing.
Around the same time, Slate.com's Laura Miller dropped this little nugget of wisdom on the site:
There are two camps on the subject of the haunted bard of Providence, R.I., and his strange tales of cosmic terror. One, led by the late genre skeptic Edmund Wilson, dismisses him as an overwriting “hack” who purveyed “bad taste and bad art.” The other, led by Lovecraft scholar and biographer S.T. Joshi, hotly rises to Lovecraft’s defense as an artist of “philosophical and literary substance.”
 Miller goes on to say:
Perhaps the most curious thing about Lovecraft is that much of what aficionados love about his work is exactly those things his detractors list as faults. Take, for example, the fact that while Lovecraft is usually described as a forefather of modern horror fiction, his stories are, to put it bluntly, not very scary. 
I’m not saying that Lovecraft didn’t have his problems, and I’m sure not saying that Lovecraft’s own fears and prejudices weren’t consciously or unconsciously included in his Weird Tale fiction. I’m just suggesting that we’ve moved away from being a culture that allows other—and even repellent—points of view a place in the greater discourse to being a culture that wants to label anyone who ever said the word “nigger” a racist and then quickly bury them in a forgotten tomb so that their poison cannot infect other people.

This, to me, is socially retarded thinking. It’s this kind of thinking that would have the unmitigated gall to censure the word “nigger” from Huckleberry Finn. If ever there was a book that merited the use of the word for no other reason than the discussion it brings forth (never mind the fact that you’re love-knifing Mark Twain), it’s Huckleberry Finn. And yet, earlier this year, that blasphemous tome hit the shelves, no doubt to the delight of people who genuinely felt that they made the world a better place.

But back to Lovecraft. I first read him when I was 13 years old—and may I suggest that the best time to first read Lovecraft is during your teenage years? At a time when you cannot contemplate a world past what Sally Jo Finklestein thinks of the joke you made in math class today, having an author get into your head who’s message is one of entropy, decay, and the fact that humanity is so much a flyspeck in an uncaring universe can be both terrifying and liberating.

What it didn’t make me want to do was go beat up black people. Neither did Robert E. Howard, another writer frequently thrown under the bus for his beliefs. Ditto Edgar Rice Burroughs. Again, the take away for me was very different. Or maybe it wasn’t so different from everyone else. Once it was pointed out to me that Lovecraft was xenophobic, “The Horror at Red Hook” suddenly made perfect sense. Hand in hand with that was the more ubiquitous fear of miscenegation. Now the Deep Ones in “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” had a more sinister undertone—from Lovecraft’s point of view, that is.

Lovecraft was trying to scare us. And he tried to scare us with what scared him. But in the end, it wasn’t how he felt about blacks or Jews that lives on after his death. Don’t believe me? Google “Cthulhu merchandise.” Go on, I’ll wait. Now click on the “Images” tab. What just popped up on your screen? Plush, stuffed dolls? Dice bags? Games? Hats? Bumper stickers? Look closely at all of that merchandise and see if you can find the word “Nigger” on any of it. No, let me save you the trouble. You won’t.

Lovecraft’s legacy is not his views of anyone who was different from him. It was his magnum opus, “The Call of Cthulhu” and the pop culture juggernaut that it spawned. The word “Lovcraftian” has become synonymous with “a myriad of tentacles.”  Sure, we can read something into that, too, I suppose…but really, I find all of this knee-jerk tar and feathering a bit tedious, and moreover, a little insulting.

Jack London is still taught in schools across the country. White Fang and The Call of the Wild are standards in middle school. His short stories about boxing are considered classics.  And yet, Jack London was vocally and verbally opposed to a black heavyweight boxing champion, and wrote a number of articles that ran in Hearst newspapers across the country urging Jim Jeffries to come out of retirement and “wipe the golden smile off of Johnson’s face.”

And yet, no one is calling for London’s works to be pulled from the shelves. Wasn’t he, too, a racist? Of course, he wasn’t the only one, and certainly not in the first two decades of the twentieth century. He was merely stating in print what the vast majority of white men in this country already thought. He was, inarguably, of his time and place.  

Bottom line: the writers who survived the pulp jungles did so because there was something in their work that would not let it die. There was something about what they wrote that spoke to, and continues to speak to, new generations of people. There are bound to be some rough edges to the work. After all, we’re talking about material written before World War II, before the Nuremberg trials, before the introduction of The Great Society in 1964, before the inauguration of Barak Obama in 2008. It can seem far removed from our modern world, but it’s not. It was only 50 years ago that the Civil Rights Movement brought the idea of equal rights for blacks into the mainstream. In other words, my dad’s generation. We are not so far along as people think. But my question to you is this: will condemning pulp authors for racism move us further down that path?

I don’t know if this will add anything to the debate, or if I’m suddenly going to be called a racist for not agreeing that the statue needs to be changed. But if anyone wants to pile on, do so in the comments.

Monday, December 12, 2011

A Christmas story for the holidays

Auld Acquaintance
By Mark Finn

Peter Crampus walked through the chaos and cacophony, his head down, his shoulders hunched. All around him clots of people swirled and eddied, their brows furrowed, their eyes dark and feral atop fixed smiles. Arms, elbows, and hips were thrown in a desperate attempt to make room, to gain purchase, to seize, to loot. Muttered curses, shouts of glee, howls of outrage, and maniacal laughter all conversed into a formless wall of sound that drowned out the meager strains of “Silent Night” being pumped through the department store’s intercom system. Nobody cared, anyway. There was nothing so distracting that could have captured the attention of any person present. It was Black Friday, and it was war.