The Withering, By Ashley Dioses

 

The Withering, by Ashley Dioses: Jackanapes Press, 135 pages. Poetry.

I picked up a signed copy of this book from the author and read it over about a week to savor the poetry inside. There are 55 poems, divided into 4 sections entitled: A Luminous Darkness, Pale Radiance, Night Cries, and A is for Axe Murderer. In an Afterword, the author tells us a little about her genesis as a poet and about the pieces in the collection. She indicates that these are primarily pieces from early in her writing career, dating back even to high school.  (She has actually had a previous collection of poetry published called Diary of a Sorceress, which contains poems from later in her career.)

The collection is impressive for a writer of such youth. I also wrote some poetry at a young age but nothing as erudite as these. They are definitely not juvenilia, but fully realized and articulate pieces. They are rhyming poems, written around horror themes, and often with a formal structure. It’s a difficult style to master but Dioses moves through them with verve and confidence.

My favorites in the collection are “Obliterate,” “Hollow King,” and  “I am the most Beautiful Angel.” Here’s a quatrain from “Obliterate.”

The stones erode away,

And tales evaporate.

All memories decay,

The years obliterate.

There are also many other wonderful lines in other pieces, such as “My heart and soul are sparrow-black” and “Then scents of smoke, of myrrh, of rum,…”

There’s an outstanding cover by Mutartis Boswell, whose work I don’t remember seeing before but which I imagine I’ll see a lot of in the future. Boswell also did numerous interior illustrations for the book, which are set beautifully to really enhance the presentation of the poetry.

All in all, The Withering is a very professional package filled with some lovingly crafted and memorable poems. If you’re into dark poetry, this is an excellent reading choice.

A Dream of Crows

I dreamt of crows last night, millions of them swirling like black blades in an apocalyptic sky full of flames and clouds. I was a teenager walking with two friends along a highway where cars lay wrecked to either side. The cries of the crows were deafening, and occasionally a dead bird smashed like a kamikaze into the asphalt near us. 

We reached a temporary refuge, the penthouse apartment of one of my friends. She was rich. One friend went to a chair where she huddled in confusion and fear. I sat on the couch with the rich girl. Cell phones worked. She got a call. I heard the speaker through the phone. The “signal” was given.

The girl didn’t know I’d overheard. She made an excuse and left the room. I knew she was going downstairs to be picked up by someone, and that she’d be taken with other rich people to escape the coming destruction. I walked over to my second friend, to comfort her.

The rich girl returned. She said she couldn’t leave us, that she wanted us to come with her. We refused, knowing that even if she wanted us along, we’d never be allowed, and that we'd certainly be killed to keep the secret.

Better to chance the dangers of the apocalypse then to be led to certain death. 

What I Did during the Lockdown

I don’t need to tell you about 2020 in general. We lived through it. Except for those of us who didn’t. And there were far too many who didn’t. Personally, I started the year excited about some writing projects I had going. I also started my 34^th year teaching, just as I’d started 33 years before. It had become routine—until March 10, a Tuesday, which was my last normal day. We had face to face classes on Wednesday the 11^th but already knew we were going fully online as a University on Monday. I’d never taught an online course; most of our students had never taken one. Panic ensued on every front, including mine. I had about three days to master Zoom and get a ton of notes up on Brightspace, our web-based backup for our classes. I don’t know how I accomplished it. I didn’t sleep much.

Without a doubt, this was the hardest teaching year of my life, including my very first year when I had to teach three brand new classes I’d never taught before. And I was also a lot older to boot. One of the worst parts of it all was missing out on the personal interactions with students, both in class and in my advising capacity. I didn’t realize how important those interactions were to me. Somehow, I made it through, and I know I’m very lucky to have a job that 1) continued, 2) paid me a decent wage, and 3) allowed me considerable flexibility in how I did my work.

As for the lockdown, not being able to go to restaurants, or to movies, or to festivals, or out to visit folks, well, for the most part it was a piece of cake. Those of you who thrive on social activities may not want to hear that, but I’m intensely introverted and it just didn’t bother me. Sure, I missed going out to eat on occasion, and I didn’t like wearing a mask to do groceries or to get take-out, but—for me—these were minor frustrations. I missed, much more, not being able to hang out with friends, to hit the bar for a beer, or have a meal out with my son and his family. Overall, though, the lockdown was not much of a problem for me and gave me more time to fiddle around with my books, which is always a great pleasure.

As for writing, 2020 would have to rank as very good for me, at least in my top three years ever. I had two novels published, both under pseudonyms for Wolfpack Publishing. And I wrote three complete novels, as well as various short stories. I completed over 230,000 words of fiction for publication, which bettered my previous best production by about 50,000 words. One of the three novels I wrote has already been published, “Vengeance of the Black Rose,” and the other two are scheduled for publication in 2021. I won’t talk more about those until they’re hatched.

As of the start of 2021, I’m beginning a new novel today, which is under contract. And other contracts are looming so if I can keep up the writing it should be another good year. I hope most sincerely that we can get past the Covid Pandemic and return to a more normal world. I want to be back in the classroom without a mask on, able to get up close to speak to students, able to see clearly their facial expressions, and their smiles. I want to get back to hanging out more with my son and seeing my grandson more. I’m looking forward to an easier time shopping for groceries and visiting doctors and eating out, and going to bookstores. And I’m hoping that all of you will have a better year, too, and will see recovery from the tribulations of 2020. 

The Princess Bride, By William Goldman

 

30^th anniversary edition, 414 pages: Harcourt, INC

It took me a long time to watch the movie, The Princess Bride. I was put off by the title, which doesn’t sound like something most youngish men would be attracted to. When I finally watched it with my wife, I loved it. I’m also not a big market for humor but the humor of the movie was subtle and struck just the proper cord with me (other than the Billy Crystal sequence, which I’m not a fan of).

In 2020, again because of my wife, I read a book by Cary Elwes called “As You Wish,” about the making of the movie. He emphasized the respect that director Carl Reiner had for the original book and how almost all of the dialogue that I’d found funny in the movie came directly from the book. So, I ordered the book myself, the 30^th anniversary edition, which contains a section of a potential sequel that was never written called “Buttercup’s Baby.” Here is my report.

First and foremost, I liked it. Indeed, all the best dialogue and scenes from the movie appeared in the book first. The one scene in the movie that was most heavily altered was the Billy Crystal/ Miracle Max scene, and that is the only one I don’t care for. That being said, I have to admit I think the movie is better than the book. And I almost never say that. The movie The Outlaw Josey Wales is better than the book it came from. I consider the movie Jaws and the book Jaws to be about even. Other than that, the book is better—always.

So why is The Princess Bride an exception? Please don’t get me wrong, the book is quite good and without it the movie wouldn’t exist. The book can stand on its own and needs make no apologies for what it is. But, the movie is better because of an interesting irony, which is not quite an irony when you look closely!

Throughout the book, William Goldman, the author, maintains a fiction within a fiction that he is not the original writer of the story, that he only abridged a much older classic work by a fellow named S. Morgenstern. He states that what he did is take out everything but the “good parts.” There’s a lengthy section at the front of the book where Goldman sets this inside joke up, and he continues the fiction throughout, with frequent asides (printed in italics) within the body of the book to describe what he left out (supposedly).

Although this was funny initially, it felt to me as if it went on too long, especially with the inserts and asides within the book proper. To me, the joke eventually became a little stale, while the material within the actual story kept moving forward with fresh humor. The movie left most of this material out. Thus the irony. The movie kept only the “good parts” of the book. However, since Goldman wrote the screenplay, too, what we really have is a case of the writer revising his previously work and realizing that certain original bits weren’t necessary.

Anyway, was it worth a read? Absolutely. And if I’d read it before seeing the movie, especially if I’d read it at a young age, I imagine it would have had a far greater impact on me and I probably would have liked it even better!

 

 

 

Six of my favorite hardboiled detective heroes:

Guest Post, By Sidney Williams:

(Thanks to Charles for letting me drop by and chat here a bit.)

I have a new hardboiled novel called Fool’s Run from the Gordian Knot mystery imprint on the horizon. It releases Nov. 22. That means of late, I’m getting asked about favorite fictional detectives.

If I’m pressed to pick a favorite, I have to say all of ‘em because I’ve read and enjoyed detective novels since I was in high school, and I’ve sampled for years.

All are influences of course, though I tried to make my hero, Si Reardon fresh and different. His adventure is a bit of a caper and a bit of mystery at the same time. It’s also a bit noir and a bit hardboiled as well. If you’re in the camp that draws a line, the noir protagonist’s usually an anti-hero. Si’s a bit of that and accepts a dirty job from my hopefully modern variation on a femme fatale. She’s a lawyer working as a “special counsel” who helps fix things, a bit on the dark side, confident and in control. Si’s journey leads him from darkness to a battle for survival.

I guess above all the hardboiled school is about an individual on a tough journey, a matter of quests and questions.

 So, favorites? Well, I can name a few, some you’ll expect, some that might not be as familiar.

Mitchell Tobin created by Tucker Coe (Donald E. Westlake)

Many tend to think of Donald E. Westlake as a comic caper writer because of his Dortmunder books, but he wrote a lot of hardboiled fiction along with the comic and not just as Richard Stark focusing on the thief Parker. Mitch Tobin’s a cop booted from the force because he was busy with an extramarital affair when he should have been on the job. As he works to repair his life and symbolically build a wall around his back yard, he gets roped into some powerful tales with interesting mystery plots, starting with Kind of Love, Kinds of Death. In that one, he’s hired by a mob boss. I discovered that book as a kid when it was reissued by Charter, and happily all the Tobin ebooks are readily available these days.

Matthew Scudder created by Lawrence Block

I read Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine as a kid as well. I first encountered Matt Scudder, another cop who’d left the force, in A Candle for the Bag Lady, a novella. In that tale, Scudder took it upon himself to solve the murder of the titular character. Responsible for a death on the job, Scudder drank and lit candles in Catholic churches, ever seeking rebirth. That story was a great introduction, and later I connected the dots between it and Block’s Writer’s Digest column and other work. The Scudder tales are a powerful character study as Scudder copes with alcoholism, and the tales are great hardboiled novels as well. The flashback entry When the Sacred Ginmill Closes is a standout.

Ed Noon created by Michael Avallone

Writer’s Digest—again—released an audio tape on mystery writing when I was young. It featured Michael Avallone who made mention of his TV tie-in work, and of course his hero Ed Noon. I had to scour used paperback shops to find early ones, but I got a kick out of Noon’s breezy voice. I like the early, traditional hardboiled Noons best including The Tall Dolores, but the spy-era books are fun too. Ed goes to work for the president. Avallone’s son, David, has reissued most of the novels as ebooks these days, usually nicely priced.

 Philip Marlowe created by Raymond Chandler

Of course Marlowe’s a favorite. I started with Farewell, My Lovely and followed Marlowe from there. The Marlowe tales, to me, are the ultimate in romanticized private eye fare. Chandler pretty much defined noir language and offered up a tough sleuth with a soul, and I loved what he was doing.

The Continental Op created by Dashiell Hammett

I read The Maltese Falcon early on in my reading life and when a TV miniseries happened along, I picked up The Dain Curse. That’s a later tale featuring Hammett’s unnamed operative from the Continental Detective Agency. I think he considered Dain a lesser entry. It’s interesting, but above all it was a gateway to the short stories in The Big Knockover including “The Gutting of Couffignal” in which The Op battles heavily robbers on an island that’s home to the very rich. Red Harverst came my way as well, and in later years, I’ve come to like Hammett more and more and to understand what he was doing with The Op’s gritty, pragmatic problem-solving.

 Lew Archer created by Ross Macdonald (Kenneth Millar)

Around the time I discovered Marlowe, I ran across The Drowning Pool by MacDonald in the tie-in edition with the Paul Newman film. Archer clicked with me the most of all the detective heroes. There’s something spiritual in Archer’s encounters with troubled family and reverberations from the past. I segued from The Drowning Pool to the later works, perhaps not fully appreciating the texture early on. But one summer, I devoured The Moving Target, The Goodbye Look, The Blue Hammer and the rest and waited for more that would sadly never come.

 I could go on and on, of course. I love the early Mac novels from Thomas B. Dewey, Kinsey Millhone from Sue Grafton, Spenser from Robert B. Parker and a host of newer heroes who’ve come down the pike, but I’ll stop here.

Since it’s a bit different of a different novel for me, there’s a Fool’s Run giveaway going on Goodreads. You might win a free signed copy and get to sample it for free.

 

Giveaway  Link: 

Visit Sid online at SidisAlive.com

Thomas McNulty's Book Corral

I just discovered Thomas McNulty's Book Corral. Thomas is a lifelong reader, a collector, and a writer himself. He seems to have a particular love for westerns. I haven't met Thomas but he has a lot of interesting stuff to say about his love of reading and about books.

Thomas does some video blogs as well and below I link to one that a friend of mine turned me onto yesterday. Thomas reviews some westerns, both older and newer books. He mentions James Reasoner and Jory Sherman, two fine authors that I read regularly. At about 5:03 in, he also talks about a newer book called "The Scarred One" by Tyler Boone (That would be me).

Thomas's comments made my day.  I recommend them highly. 😉

Check it out!

The Scarred One at Amazon

Legend of the Black Rose

Though I didn’t grow up in the literal pulp era, I started reading paperback fiction in the 1960s and 70s that was a direct descendent of the pulps. One of the first authors I fell in love with was Louis L’Amour, who started in the pulps. The first published novel that I wrote was Swords of Talera, in the tradition of  Edgar Rice Burroughs, the pulp writer who gave us John Carter of Mars and Tarzan of the Apes. Today, pulp fiction has come to mean colorful, thrilling tales, with plenty of action, larger than life characters, and exciting derring-do. And when I want a fun read I go looking for exactly that kind of work.

Teleport to the present, and I’m both amazed and honored that I’ve been able to write some of the same kind of stories and see them published. Writing is, quite often, hard work. But the sheer joy to be found in immersing oneself in an exciting tale cannot be denied. Quite simply, I love it.

On January 1, 2020, I officially started working on a pulp fiction book to be called Vengeance of the Black Rose. It was to be the 3^rd book in a series about a female hero known as “The Black Rose,” who is most directly a literary descendent of such masked avengers as Zorro and the Lone Ranger. That book was just published on October 14, my birthday, and one of the best birthday presents I’ve ever gotten.

The series as a whole is a fun read. Catalina Christina Rivera (The Black Rose) is a young woman who grew up along the Texas/Mexico border in the late 1800s and early 1900s. She has a keen sense of justice and a character that is sometimes prickly but always empathic for the wounded and the frail. She has a great supporting cast around her, and is adept with many weapons but particularly favors the Urumi, the whip-sword—a unique tool to be sure.

Richard Prosch, a friend and an author who frequently gets five star reviews from me for his work, was intimately involved in the development of the Black Rose character, and he wrote the first two books in the series: Legend of the Black Rose, and The Sword of the Black Rose. I read the first one while working on my entry and it sent me enthusiastically to my keyboard to put down my own take on the character.

And so we come to Vengeance of the Black Rose. Catalina travels with several companions to the small mission of San Javier del Amor, only to find the mission burned and many of its inhabitants slain. Others have been taken away in chains, particularly many children. The raider who took the children seems to be more than a bandit, and perhaps more than human. He is called “The Beast,” or sometimes “El Tigre.” Catalina trails him into Mexico, only to discover El Tigre’s plan to raise a new Aztec empire.

In confronting El Tigre, Catalina loses a close friend. She’ll need every ounce of skill she possesses to save her remaining friends and to take her vengeance. I had fun writing this story and I have a feeling you might have fun reading it. I hope you’ll check it out:

•                             

2019 - 2020 Reading Stats

Some of you may remember that I record my reading year from October 14 (my birthday) to October 13 of the next year. Then I typically give a report on it. So, here is my reading report for October 2019 to October 2020.

I wasn’t particularly surprised that my number of read books this year was down from last year, which was a record setting year for me with 129 completed books. I was somewhat surprised that it was much lower than my typical average of 90 to 100 books read a year. I only finished 66 books this past year, which is my lowest number since 2001/2002.

I’m pretty sure I know the reasons why the number is down so much. First, the Covid pandemic has taken its toll on me. It’s added considerably to my workload at school, requiring both more time reassuring students and much more time learning a whole new approach to teaching. I’m still not satisfied with all my adjustments. Covid has also affected my mood, although as an introvert I don’t think it’s caused me any kind of real depression. But, when I do get a few minutes off I’ve often chosen mindless video games over the cognitive involvement of reading. It’s a stress escape behavior.

The second reason why my reading numbers is down, however, is much more positive. I’ve completed three 74,000 word (roughly) novels in the past year, and I’m proud of all of them. This has upped my nonfiction reading, for research purposes, but a lot of that is on line or articles that don’t get counted in my book totals. In addition, where I used to sit down in the evening for an hour or two with a good book, I’m often returning to my computer these days to finish my word count for the day—a necessary action to meet deadlines and to work around my regular job hours.

As far as details go. My SF reading was up this year, with 12 books in that genre. It was my go to genre apparently. Perhaps another escape since the books I wrote had nothing to do with SF. My westerns and thrillers were at 9 each, which was well down from the 20+ in each last year. The 5 nonfiction books I read were all research related. 2 of the 3 poetry books I read were also research related.

The only other interesting thing is that last year, for the first time, I started separating out “Men’s adventure Novels” as a genre. I had 5 then, and 5 more this year so that seems pretty stable. At any rate, thanks for letting me indulge myself once more in “talkin’ about books.” Till next year!

 

The Black Rose

There's a long tradition in pulp fiction of the masked avenger, the individual who dispenses justice at the point of a sword or through the barrel of a gun when the authorities can't or won't. From the western/historical genre we have Zorro, the Lone Ranger, The Masked Rider (Hobart),  and others. From the thriller pulps we see such characters as The Shadow, The Spider, The Phantom, and more.  From comics we have Batman, Daredevil, and a host of others. One thing you don't see outside of the rare comic (I can't think of any off the top of my head although I'm sure there's at least one out there) is a masked avenger who is also a woman.

Enter Catalina Christina Rivera--The Black Rose. If I had to draw comparisons, I'd say the Black Rose is most similar to Zorro. But in reality she combines elements of all kinds of masked heroes with a modern pacing. This is the first book in the series and is a lot of fun. Fast action, interesting character with a fascinating back story, a great supporting cast, and headlong pacing. I highly recommend it.

Great cover too!  If you want it, here's the link: 

My First Podcast

Richard Prosch, over at Six-Gun Justice, recently asked me a few questions about writing and reading. It's mostly western related, but not all. We talk about a variety of topics, and get into the books I've written lately for Wolfpack Publishing. This was my very first experience with a podcast but Richard made it easy and I really enjoyed it. 

Richard is a fine writer himself. I've probably read 85 percent of what he's written, and have particularly loved his Dan Spalding Mystery series, which I collect. Check his work out on Amazon. 

As for my books that we talk about on the podcast, here are the links below: 

As Charles Allen Gramlich: The Talera series. 

As Tyler Boone (westerns): The Scarred One: Killing Trail: 

As A. W. Hart: The Wine of Violence: 

As always, thanks for visiting!

What Happens When You Finish a Book

I have some writer friends, professionals who make much of their living from writing, who finish one book and immediately start another. No downtime. No decompression. No wait between. I don't make my living from writing and don't usually have to do that.

l declared my latest book done this morning and sent it in to the Editor. About 73,000 words. A western/historical. I understand there may be edits down the line but for now I can let that work slip out of my mind. Or can I? Easier said than done.

The first part of the book was a bit of a struggle but once the characters jelled it became a lot of fun. And now it's done. And I don't have another book contract immediately. I have a few minutes to breath. But on my walk I found myself working over the ending of the book again. I had to make myself stop. And last night when I went to bed, I had to force my thoughts into unusual channels because I was not still writing the book, only giving it the final read through to make sure it was as good as I could make it.

Now, what am I going to do with myself today? Well, if you're reading this then you know one thing I'm doing. It's not a book but I'm going to write something today anyway. This blog, and probably a short flash fiction I've been asked to do. But not the book I've lived with for the past four months (give or take).

And what will I do tonight when I lay down to sleep? Every night for months now I've been living inside that book for a little while when I laid down. Tonight I won't need to. Tonight my thoughts will be free. That's kind of scary.

Heroika Skirmishers

Quite a few years ago now I fell in love with the "Thieves World" anthology series. These were one of the very first "shared world" anthologies, in which different writers wrote tales in the same setting and had the characters interact with each other. A writer that really caught my attention from that series was Janet Morris, and I went on to read many books by her. She's one of my favorite fantasy authors.

A couple of years back, I got an opportunity to write a story for an anthology called Heroika Skirmishers, which was conceived by Janet Morris. This is the second in the Heroika series. The first was Dragon Eaters, and I've read and reviewed that one on Goodreads and Amazon. It was an excellent collection.

I was incredibly thrilled to be able to write a story for Ms. Morris and I'm happy with the tale that came out. It's called, "In the Season of Rust." The editor of the anthology, A. L. Butcher, is doing a series of short interviews with the authors in the book, and with their characters. I had fun with that, particularly for my character, who is named "Sheaugu." That interview has gone up now and you can find it here if you're interested. I hope you are.

If you'd like to see more about the book, you can find it on Amazon:

Avenging Angels Dream

It's been something of a dream of mine to work on a book series beside other writers whose work I value. Finally, it's come true. Late last year I was offered a chance to write a book for Wolfpack Publishing's ongoing western series, The Avenging Angels. I took the leap and am glad I did. That book is out now and is called "Avenging Angels: The Wine of Violence." 

The house name for the series is A. W. Hart, but such writers as Peter Brandvold, Richard Prosch, Wayne Dundee, and Chuck Dixon have handled the reins. I got my chance with book #7. 

The Avenging Angels series features twin brother and sister, Reno and Sara Bass, who become bounty hunters after their family is brutally murdered by outlaws. Their preacher father urged them to root out evil and they are doing it one bullet at a time. 

In The Wine of Violence, Reno and Sara travel to the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas (my old stomping grounds), to uncover and stop a plan to build a criminal empire. Reno goes undercover in a town full of outlaws and finds himself caught up in a mystery. Is the preacher who leads the town a voice for good or a ruthless murderer? 

In the end, Reno and Sara have to rely on their guns to survive the day. If you like action oriented westerns, this might be a book for you. The whole series is certainly worth reading. It would tickle me no end if you bought a copy and read it. And if you do, a review would be icing on the cake! It's available in both ebook and print.

1-18-2020: Local Mysteries Intrigue Author:

Since 2007, I’ve lived in the country outside Abita Springs, Louisiana, on a dirt road surrounded by woods. It lies in a sparse community of mostly trailer houses on other dirt roads. And it is a nexus of mystery. First there was/is the house. While most houses in the area are trailers or modular homes, this is a nice two story, possibly the most beautiful house in the neighborhood. And yet it lies abandoned. For a while, there were clothes hung on the rail of the back porch, as if set out to dry. Those finally rotted away. But at night, lights come on inside and a single ceiling fan begins to rotate. I’ve never seen a car there, or a person. I no longer walk past it.

One day I discovered a whole set of women’s clothes—socks, jeans, sweater—lying just off the ditch on one of the roads. They were arranged in the shape of a person sleeping on their back. Another time I discovered a white van run off the road into the woods. It was empty, with broken windows. I told the police about the clothes and the van. Nothing ever came of it.

My son and I discovered an unfinished wooden shed in the woods about fifty yards behind my house, clearly hidden from the road. It has since nearly rotted into the ground. We also discovered a bloated wild pig carcass in a ditch. I’ve found other unsavory things—deer heads, fish carcasses, and once a huge smear of what looked like blood across a gravel road. I’m pretty sure the dead animals and blood were from hunters throwing out the parts of their hunts that they didn’t want to take home. Pretty sure.

In the last couple of years, periodic explosions have rocked our neighborhood. Usually we’ll hear a big bang, or maybe just feel vibrations. One of these explosions was explained as an accident when someone was burning trash, but the authorities haven’t even acknowledged the others that have been reported by local residents.

In the last few weeks, another little mystery has reared its head. I often pass a house on my walks where there is a strange sound. It sounds like someone slapping their hand on a road sign, a kind of “spang.” And it’s very regular. Each time I’ve heard it, I’ve stopped and tried to figure it out; today, I realized that it’s coming from underground. As a writer, my first thought was, someone imprisoned in a cellar is tapping a metal cup on a water pipe to get attention. Then the rational part of my mind kicked in. It’s far too regular to be a person. It’s clearly mechanical and maybe it has something to do with these folks’ plumbing. Maybe. Or…

They say mystery is the spice of life. My life outside Abita Springs has been pretty spicy.  

Surrounded by Friends for the Holidays

From the post that follows, don’t imagine that I’m lonely for human companionship. Far from it. Lana is here. I’ve spoken with my son and should see him and his wife, Heidi, and new son (my beautiful grandson Silas) soon. I’ve been on the phone and visited with friends and family. I stay in touch with many on facebook. But today, I’m posting about a different kind of friend. Some might call them the imaginary kind, but if you’re a reader you’ll know it’s more than that.

Joe Lansdale is just off to my right as I type this. T. Chris Martindale, Robert McCammon, David Morrell are close by. Well, their books are; their characters are. I’ve never met these writers, but their books and characters like Hap and Leonard and John Rambo are long-term friends and companions. Shirley Jackson and Charlee Jacob are there. These two writers themselves are sadly gone, but the books remain my friends—although Charlee’s works are not exactly the kind one brings home to mother. Even H. P. Lovecraft is there, a curmudgeonly uncle if there ever was one.

To my left sits Robert E. Howard and the single largest collection of lit-friends. As I look at them now, I reach for a book or two to share a nod with Kull and Bran and Dark Agnes. But Edgar Rice Burroughs and his creations are calling from behind. John Carter, Tarzan, Jane, David Innes, Dejah Thoris, Carson Napier loom larger than life at my shoulders. And right next to them are Dray Prescot, Delia of Delphond, Elric, Druss the Legend, Raven, Croaker, Eric John Stark, and a hundred others—Brak, Kothar, Kyrik, Thongor, Aldair—you know I could go on.

I can go around the room and name them: Poul Anderson’s Flandry of Terra, the Witch World characters of Andre Norton, Hammer’s Slammers and the Dorsai, the Lost Regiment of William Forstchen, Paul Atreides and Captain Blood, Repairman Jack and all the magnificent characters of Thieves’ World. The Traveler and the Destroyer and the Survivalist. The Shadow and Spider. Dumarest of Terra, Doc Savage, and Blade (more than one by that name). Harry Potter and Hermione. The Sacketts and all their kin. Some aren’t even human—The Black Stallion, Flame, Desert Dog, Big Red, White Fang, Buck, Old Yeller, Kalak.

There are plenty works by writers I have met and can call friends: James Reasoner, Sidney Williams, O’Neil De Noux, James Sallis, David Lanoue, Candice Proctor, Rexanne Becnel, Shauna Roberts, and others I know well enough that it feels like we’ve met even if we haven’t—Paul Bishop, Richard Prosch, Bruce Boston, Danette Haworth, Charles Nuetzel, Seth Lindberg, David West, Chris LaTray.

And these days, there’s even some of my own literary children in the mix: Ruenn MacLang, Trenton Banning, Thal and Krieg and Bryle, and three little foxes named Emris, Lyder and Flis. It’s a pretty full house for the Holidays. I’m happy.

Game of Thrones: An Ending

Lana and I just finished watching the final season of Game of Thrones last night. It seems like everyone else in the world has already shared their disappointment with the finale, so I’ll do my take. Warning: Spoilers ahead.

I had zero interest in Game of Thrones when I first heard of it. I hadn’t read the books and hadn’t been in the mood for what I thought would be “High Fantasy” for years. But Lana, my wife, was captivated. She kept telling me I’d like it, and at some point I sat down and watched an episode. I was immediately hooked. It wasn’t High Fantasy, but some semi-historical combination of High Fantasy and Sword & Sorcery. There are folks who’ve told me they don’t like Game of Thrones. They’re entitled to their opinion and I’m entitled not to care.

The settings, the characters, the ambience were all excellent. The acting was terrific. There was tons of intrigue but it never got in the way of moving the story forward. I quickly developed strong attachments to the characters. Some I empathized with and came to love, like Tyrion Lannister, and some I came to hate, like Cersei Lannister. Some went from one extreme to the other, and sometimes back again, like Jamie Lannister, Arya Stark, Sansa Stark and Grey worm.

Then came Season 8. I certainly empathize with the writers who had to try and bring this sprawling epic to a satisfactory close. They were working without a net by now, having gotten ahead of the books by George RR Martin, and there were numerous plotlines to bring together. Many viewers have described season 8 as feeling rushed, and I agree. There was so much to get done and some of it did not get its due. This is one reason I was particularly irritated by some of the “wasted” time in the final season. There were long, long scenes of characters mourning, of characters waking up and trying to figure out where they were, of characters staring in shock. The mourning scenes and shock scenes were necessary but far too prolonged, and this time could have been better used.

The most difficult part for me to deal with in season 8 was the change in some of the characters. Tyrion suddenly becomes a bumbling, love-sick fool, Daenerys Targaryen—an awesome character—takes a 90 degree turn into viciousness, Jon Snow seems to periodically lose his spine. Oh, there was some justification given for all these changes, but it felt very cosmetic and…contrived. I think the problem was, in large part, that they killed the Night King fairly early in season 8 and then needed another villain. Cersei was available but her movements were constrained, and so they had to make Daenerys a villain—or felt they had to. (See my last paragraph here for another possibility.)

Despite these complaints and the somewhat ham-handed forcing of the characters into awkward actions to close the storyline, I thought there was quite a bit of good in the final season. For example, Arya using an assassin’s trick to kill the Night King was perfect. I heard one critic say it should have been Jon Snow, and Jon was used poorly in the end of that episode, but it was right to have Arya do it. It should have been Jon clearing the way for her to reach the Night King, however. In addition, the ending of the Hound in conflict with his brother was spot on, I thought. And I thought it appropriate for Cersei and Jamie to die together, buried by rubble in the depths of the castle that Cersei had ruled for so long and so monstrously. I thought the end of Jon’s story was also right, even though it was emotionally painful for the viewer—at least this viewer. He was kind of a Moses character in some sense and thus could never quite reach the promised land. I liked Arya sailing off to chart new lands. I liked the bantering and bickering among the new King’s council near the end. It sounded just right to me.

And finally, Daenerys’ end. It seems to me that Game of Thrones was her story. She was truly a doom-driven hero, and her descent into madness was perfectly suited to drama, even if it was both hard to watch and so rushed as to make it hard to believe. In the end, having Jon Snow kill her the way he did was the only choice left to these characters. And to have her carried off by her last surviving dragon was a nice touch. So, I watched Game of Thrones. I don’t regret it. It won’t be easily forgotten in the years to come.

Out of Dreams: Nightmares

Most years I do a little more for Halloween than I've done this year. I have been busy writing, though, and some good things should start to show up pretty soon. In the meantime, I wanted to take Halloween to make an official announcement of the publication of Out of Dreams: Nightmares, a collection of short stories based upon the weird dreams I've had over the years. 

This has been out for a little while now but I haven't really promoted it. There was going to be a post from another blogger that was going to kick this off but they seem to have disappeared from the scene for the moment. I didn't want to wait longer. 

Some of these stories have been published elsewhere but not previously collected. Others are brand new to this publication. There's also a lengthy essay toward the end of the book on how to use dreams to enhance creativity. It's something I've given presentations on before but I've never written it up for publication before. 

Out of Dreams: Nightmares is available in print and ebook on Amazon. The print version is only $6.00, which is pretty cheap these days. The kindle version is $2.99. I hope you'll check it out. 

Book Report for October 2018 to October 2019

I've done a reading report each of the last several years here on my blog. Time for another one. I've mentioned it here before but my way of keeping records is kind of unusual so I'll quickly explain again. I keep my yearly reading records from October 14th of one year through October 13 of the next. October 14th is my birthday, so that's why I do it that way. 

This was a good year for me. I read 129 books, up from 106 last year. I'm pretty sure I owe the increase to taking it a little easier at my job in the aftermath of last year's heart attack. It also seems I found a bunch of books I really liked this year and so I tore through them at a fast pace.

For the first time in quite a few years, Westerns led the parade. I read 29 of those. This is certainly due to me writing a lot of western related material this past year, including the novel The Scarred One, the short stories for Scott Harris's four 500 word anthologies, and some stories for another western collection that I plan to put together in the next year or so.

Second on my most-read list was Mystery/Thriller, with the main emphasis on the thriller side. I read 23 of these, due mostly to Harlan Coben, whose books I've been devouring at a high rate of speed. An interesting development (at least to me), is that for the first time I separated Men's Adventure from other types of Thrillers. This is because of the Men's Adventure group on Facebook, where I've been having a lot of fun talking about this kind of book. I didn't start separating these out until late in the year, however, so I only have 5 official Men's Adventure books on my list. That'll probably go up next year.

Non-fiction was next on my list, with 14. These generally fall into three categories: science books, books on writing, and books on heavy metal music. I separate these on Goodreads but not in my word processing list, which I like to keep to one page.

SF and Fantasy took slight dips this year, ending up at 9 and 10 respectively. I also read 7 classics (meaning books by folks like Hemingway etc), and 7 poetry books, both slight increases over last year. I got sent several poetry books this year from folks who know I do reviews and that's probably why that number went up a little bit.

I could go on but I may have overstayed my welcome on this post already. I do love talking about books. Here's to a great 2019-2020 reading year for everyone!

The Color of the Day is Yellow

The trees and ditches are spattered with yellow along my walk this morning. In the woods it’s mostly leaves changing into their autumn attire. There’s still a lot of green but here and there a yellow flag flutters, pale or lemony or tending toward brown. And poking through the litter of leaves and twigs on the ground are a few yellow sprigs of fern. I suspect the ferns and some of the leaves on the plants in our backyard are yellow because it’s been dry.

Yesterday we had some rain, though, and the ditches are yellow with blooming flowers. There are at least four different species, the bouquets of duller yellow that I call ragweed, tiny little yellow starbursts about the size of a pencil eraser, bigger five petalled yellow flowers, and the biggest of all, standing on stems two to four feet high, yellow-orange blooms half the size of your palm with multiple petals that make them look like sawblades.  

Even the sunlight is yellow this morning. I guess it’s that kind of day. I think I’ll have a couple of eggs with yellow yokes, toast with yellow butter, and maybe some lemonade. 

Interview with Yours Truly

Lee Forman, a fine writer himself and an editor over at Sirens Call, conducted an interview with me a while back and it appears today on his blog. I hope you'll check it out.