Bear with me, this process is touchy, but you should be able to find what you need i.e. Hidden Episode No. 2
As I get older, I feel like ranting and raving more and more. I was talking with someone the other day who told me he had no patience anymore, and then he said that he must be getting old. I guess that’s the curse of wisdom.
These days I have had other duties than my writing and my great library of published works. It wears on me after about four days and I start getting itchy about putting more stuff up, editing and writing. I have so many of these dark tales swirling around in my head (always have) and they need egress and when I find myself sitting there talking to someone over an email chat about webhosting and nameservers, I get impatient. Well, why not? I need to get back to the land of make believe and spin more dark tales.
(What a nut job!)
This week I was also obsessively checking my book sales stats and as they say, :”this way leads to madness.” I think I am only checking them because I have been stuck on other duties rather than writing the next episode and the next and the next and the next. The problem with checking your book sales stats is this: they are always bad. It’s like trying to diagnose your health over the internet. Have you ever noticed that no matter what you look up, an itch, a pimple, an ache, it all leads to death. It’s just amazing how that is online.
Book stats though, they are never enough. One takes it way too personally. One title goes up and you sit back and say, what about all the other ones! Then the other one goes up and you say, yeah, but what about the last one! And on and on down the rabbit hole we go.
Speaking of rabbit holes, I have been binge watching 11.22.63 on Hulu, the new Stephen King time travel JFK series. I liked it so much I bought the audio book, and you know a funny thing happened: I think the mini series is better than the book. I really do and that doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it throws me a little. I found the same with Twilight, I liked the movie, was bored with the book.
Anyway, it’s not that I am in a rush to publish, I am in a rush to write because these stories want out. They want to be told, they brim over the edge of my brain pan and they don’t shut off. They really don’t. I don’t look at it as a curse, though. It’s great fun. I love it.
The curse is everything that gets in the way of the telling of the vision. Except for the new puppy. She’s just so sweet, there’s no curse there.
Anyway, that’s my rant.
Episode 5 of The Hidden is done and published. It’s called The Hidden: Play the Game. It is the final episode of season 1.
And I have episode 1 of season 2 about 90% done. But I have got to sink some time into season 2 (The Uncounted) in order to get that really coming along, because this other thing showed up in the middle of listening to my HP Lovecraft’s greatest hits book. It was, well, stunning is not the right word, but it was stunning. I was spirited away as they say, sent into the future to witness the coming invasion. I feel morally responsible to write about in a weird way, too.
Jerry is on the loose, hiding somewhere in Jack’s vicinity, waiting to strike again. The FBI, however, has a plan, one in which Jack is their star player. But another agency, Hellfire Club Ltd, has a better idea. And a more sinister plot. The only question left is: how far is Jack willing to go in the name of revenge?
Finally! It’s here. It took me longer than I wanted it to, that was for sure, but we have it, the next installment of Jack and Jerry.
This episode is probably the most important one of the story and I am proud to present it to the world. It was a fun journey, dark and twisted, but, oh, so enjoyable. I hope you enjoy it, too. And if you haven’t yet begun to “play the game” as Jerry likes to put it, then you really ought to. We won’t disappoint. But don’t take my word at face value. The first episode is permanently free!
In other news…
Epsiode 5 is finished, and by the way, Episode 5 is the final episode, and I promise all strings will be tied up with a few new ones added just for kicks. Now that 4 is done, I will be getting onto the Ep. 5 edits and rewrites and whatnot. Believe me, I want to get this one pub’ed and available just as fast as I can, because I want to get back to my other project: the next Hidden book, The Uncounted.
Yup, that’s begun and I am itching to get right back to it and delve in deep. General research has gone into some very interesting directions for future books. Crime and horror and police procedure. Things are getting interesting.
I’m reading tons and loving it. Dean Koontz, if you’re reading this, I love you. 😉 and James Herbert you’re my hero, wherever you are. Jo Nesbo: good deal, buddy. Also, my hat goes off to Vincent Bugliosi and his true crime sensation of the century, Helter Skelter, The True Story of the Manson Murders. (Now that is some scary shit.) Oh, and thank you Audible for existing!! Anyway, enjoy your date with Jerry.
Tonight I’m happy.
I’m happy because I just finished a book. It’s times like these that make me wish I still smoked. I will always remember that scene (from the movie, because–I know I am liable to catch hell for this–I have not read the book, but Kathy Bates does such a damn good job!) from Stephen King’s “Misery” where when Paul Sheldon is finished with a novel, he lights up a cigarette, the only time he does anymore.
I couldn’t get away with it. My wife would give me a hard time, but I know how it works. One cigarette leads to another cigarette which, in turn, leads to another cigarette and that leads to another…you get the idea.
So, I have a different ritual, which is taking a shot of hard liquor, but tonight I have one of those weird non-existent headaches that might be there and might not be there and I fear that if I take a shot of Brandy, the only hard liquor in my house, I am liable to get a real headache, besides I had a pretty large spiked hot chocolate last night during Eldritch Horror, a wonderful board game, I might add. And yes, it is exactly what it sound like.
Anyway, I finished The Hidden. The whole book. Episode 5 was the final episode and I put that baby to bed about an hour ago. Feels good to have it done. Sure, there will be editing and rewrites and read-throughs and all that, but the hardest part is done: turning the blank page into a full page, page after page, until the words “The End.”
I’m happy to have it done because it means that a book I have been working on for the last year and three months is done. It means that I will be able to share it with fans, and it means that I will be able to start something else now.
My mind is ablaze with all these dark wonders that I have swirling around for my next tale. It is a joyful thing indeed when the visions come and show you the way of the adventure. In my mind, the dark stories are the brightest. They nearly glow with vibrancy and I see them so clearly in my mind’s eye, I can all but live inside them.
The trick, of course, is to take that grand vision handed down by the gods through their most able and beautiful servants, the Muses, and do it the justice it deserves.
In case anyone wants to know, my next project is Thomas Hunter Book 4. I was having such a problem trying to decide what to do next after The Hidden. It was so bad that I was going a little crazy, I admit. As soon as I would decide on one direction, I would switch and say, “Yeah, but maybe this one is the way to go” and I would slide down the rabbit hole all over again. I finally decided to do a draw out of a hat. I used a purple fedora and I put the top 5 books I wanted to work on in there. Then I pulled out a name and unceremoniously declared it in my living room, despite making my wife wince at how dorky I was being. But, I needed a little ceremonial magic to jar things loose, or rather, firm them up.
But even after that, I had this sneaky idea that I should just skip the hat trick and pretend I had never done it. After all, who’s to say not to? But, alas, reason did find me, and I declared, this time silently and resolutely, that the one from the hat is the one to be done. That is the rule, after all.
And so, Sirius Evil was..not born, but conceived. It won’t be born for probably another nine months. Yes, these books really are my babies.
As we depart summer and enter into fall I sigh a great breath of relief. I am not a summer lover. I don’t like the hot sun on my neck, am not a huge fan of sweating.
I am, however, a fall lover or fallophilliac. Hot coffee, pumpkins, scarves (I have a full 17′ Dr. Who one styled with the same color pattern as my favorite doctor, Tom Baker), sweaters and jeans, all the fall colors. In an ideal world, there is only one season: autumn.
It is also a wonderful time to read. I most recently snuggled up with Clive Barker’s Damnation Game and was very happy I did so. The ancient struggle of good versus evil is embodied in these two enemies and their quest to outdo, outlast, and out best one another. Similar in that regard to The Great and Secret Show, also by Clive Barker, where essentially the same arch rivals do the same thing. I didn’t mind the repetition of theme and ideas. I was once told that as you write, your message comes through, again and again, and eventually it reaches. I find this in my own work all the time. Marvel Comics does a great job with this. Retelling the same story over and over again in different ways and at different depths. I take comfort in this because it means we really do have a point to what we are writing about or creating. It’s not just all random, but coming from a deeper, more profound part of us that, in my view, is the truer part. It also means we can’t go wrong with choice of subject matter that we use to create. It’s all valid.
I have a reading pile that I am buried in at the moment that consists of nothing but thick books. I find that, for the most part, this kind of book is the kind I like to read. There are many exceptions, of course, but the Thick Book seems to afford the level of dept necessary to keep me engaged. I am torn however because many times I want it to end sooner, because there are so many pages i,e. its so thick. Often times I listen to books at 2 or 3 x the speed, to get over the thickness factor. I basically consume books in all mediums: print, ebook and audio. I watch them too, when they are made into movies.
So, being that the Thick Book is my kind of book, I am working on one of my own entitled The Hidden, which, for all intents and purposes is over half way done, but only 2/5’s released.
Episode three is scheduled to go up in a month, give or take 4 weeks. This tale revolves around Jack Fuller who finds that he is one of the few people in the world today who has the capacity for producing what the ancient world called The Gemini, a highly intelligent and evolved doppelganger. There is only one thing that this doppelganger wants from Jack: everything.
I have also been engaged in some revising and renewing. My second Thomas Hunter book is now re-released and better for it. And the third installment is well on its way and will be published inside of one month, give or take twenty days.
Thomas Hunter has to solve a paranormal mind f*@k in this installment without losing his own paranormal mind. Its got occult magick, monsters, shapeshifters, alternate realities, some naughty parts and a whole lot of paranormal sleuthing.
In other news, in the quest to keep my own paranormal mind, I have recently listened to The War of Art, by Steven Pressfeild. This little book, part instruction manual, part metaphysical guidebook, part memoir is a must read for artists– particularly writers–do-gooders and in short anyone trying to do something amazing and/or help the world and the people in it. It really is an incredible book. Very short, but very powerful. I listened to it twice.
Speaking of amazing, yesterday I asked a young person how he was doing, and he said, and I quote: “I am doing amazing sauces.”
I had to pause. Where do these youngsters learn their vernacular?
All right, I now go off into the land of make believe and buckwheat pancakes, where I never gain any weight and I always rank high on the charts.
What she said!
This is making good sense!!!
A while back I ran across this post–it was one of those buzz feed things that was intended to make you realize new and startling things about life. Anyway, this particular post was a fast motion video where they used jelly beans to represent every hour of a human life. So that came up to some ungodly amount of jelly beans when they started out. The jelly beans looked infinite. And then little by little they took some jelly beans away to show you as a baby–all that time you spent in the crib–and then they added up the hours you would sleep in a lifetime and removed all those jelly beans, then they figured the average commute to work and added all that up, and took more hours of jelly beans away and on and on, until they got to the end, and they had a very small amount of jelly beans left over. And then they said, these are the hours that you have to produce art. And they amounted to a a few handfuls of jelly beans.
And I said fuck off.
Well, I have thought about it often since then–I thought about it today, that my cup of jelly beans is almost empty, because after all, it is only a small amount of time that I have to produce my art. It didn’t inspire me to go home and write, it just made me feel bad that I only had a handful of jelly beans.
You know, thinking of life like that is about as fun as designing your own headstone.
The funny part of this jelly bean analogy is that when I was a kid, about 9 years old, on a day when I had nothing to do–very normal day, back then–I found a bag of jelly beans left over from Easter. Candy to kids is like gold, you know. You see this entire bag of flavored sugar and you about go through the roof just considering the sugar high that will follow.
Well, not me, not that day. I saw a different opportunity.
I carefully opened the bag and stuffed gobs of jelly beans into my pockets, just raw, no plastic bag–I think we were too poor for plastic bags–no protection, just right into my dirty pockets and I started off for the neighborhood. I went door to door–I won’t say “selling,” there was no sales pitch–I insisted that whoever answered the door, buy my AMAZING jelly beans. They said no, often, but I was not to be deterred. I, like a beggar, simply refused to leave until they bought one or two warm, sweaty handfuls.
I made a little money that day.
But I also gave away handfuls of my jelly beans.
Representing the hours of a life with jelly beans and then taking them away with each hour you sleep or drive to work or eat a meal, makes it seem like you never double up on activities. What if you eat while you drive? Or make money while you sleep? What if you multitask, or get your work done faster? Well, then I reason you should get some jelly beans back. They didn’t add any beans.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize that the hours of a person’s life cannot be accurately measured with jelly beans.
But, if we are going to use jelly beans as an analogy for time in a human life span and say that we really do have just a few sweaty handfuls of flavored sugar to beautify the world and make art and write poems and touch the human soul, then my hands are marbled with color, sticky and sweet, because I am squeezing these left over jelly beans for all my life’s worth.
I have not done a post in forever because I decided to go “underground” and put all of my attention on the production of a viable catalog of my work, singling out quantity of works available as the strategic action needed at this time. To that end, I have some things in the pipeline that are about to come popping off, which is most exciting to me. Its what I live for, I suppose, though in truth, I actually live for a whole lot more.
Blogging is strenuous I have found and personally I have very little interest in it. My interest seems to be talking about myself, and my inner monologues which is probably pretty boring to the world at large and incredibly inconsiderate of me in general. I mean, making people sit through all this journaling and public diary writing? It’s just bad taste, and so, I stopped blogging. I did not want to be That Guy who can only talk about his writing, because the problem is, I can only talk about my writing.
So, I am not going to talk about my writing today. I am going to talk about Martin Luther King and the movie Selma. I didn’t know anything about Selma and I didn’t know much about MLK. One of the reasons I wanted to see the film was because I didn’t know much about the man. I knew of his famous speeches, of course. The movie is exceptional, but what captured me was the basis of his movement: nonviolence.
I did not know what nonviolence was before I saw this movie. I did not know nonviolence was anything. I believed in violence, an eye for an eye and all that. I believed that one should fight back. I still do believe in fighting back, I simply did not understand how one can fight back with nonviolence.
I watched Gandhi last night because MLK’s movement was based on Gandhi’s movement. I watched a three hour movie about a man who won his country’s independence by turning the other cheek. I watched a man refuse to take up arms and make a statement that spoke louder than any gunshot or bomb or grave. I did not believe you could do this, to become a symbol of peace and freedom so powerful that governments can only concede to the demand, that people must sit up and take notice, that a whole culture can change.
Nonviolence. How could doing nothing, do so much? And yet, it is not nothing. It is everything.
I am reminded of the famous photo of a man in china stopping a tank by standing in front of it.
Yes, people die when they practice nonviolence, but it is nothing compared to the bloodshed of war, of always fighting, of taking up arms forever.
This is the way of the healer, the teacher, the leader, the saint. This is the way out of oppression and Hell and endless war. And it works because we all have one thing in common: our humanity.
This tells me there is hope for this world.