Prepare for Re-entry

I'm going back to work tomorrow.

I'm still not running at 100%, but this will have to suffice.  When your dogs set your alarm clock and pack your lunch and make up little paw-printed 'Have a good day at work, to which you are returning, we're frankly sick of you, kthnxbye,' it's time to find a shirt with a collar and pretend to be a grown-up for a bit.

I wish I could say I did a lot of reading while I was sick, but that would be a lie.  Mainly what I did was cough up things that one normally only sees in low-budget horror films and watch TV.  TV doesn't demand much attention, and my Kindle wisely hid itself under a cushion during the worst of the coughing fits.

But I did read one really good book.

Nekropolis: A Matt Richter Novel by Tim Waggoneer is one of those books I picked up on a whim.  I'd never heard of Tim Waggoneer, or Matt Richter.  But the cover was emblazoned with three words I can seldom refuse -- zombie private eye.

So I snagged it, several weeks ago, and only pulled it up yesterday when I managed to catch my Kindle sneaking around on a bookcase.

People.  If you have any love at all for the hard-boiled or the macabre, then you owe it to yourself to give Nekropolis a chance.  This is first-rate stuff -- you've got your hard-case ex-cop, your mean streets, your damsel in distress.

But you've got all that in Nekropolis, which is unlike anywhere you've ever been taken by a book.

I'll admit it.  I'm jealous.  I kept kicking myself while reading, which requires no small coordination and is tough on the bedclothes.  Why didn't I think of that, I'd say?

There's a jukebox in a bar called Skullies that consists of three severed heads which sing.  In Nekropolis, you speak into your cell phone's ear and you listen to its mouth.

Matt Richter is a Cleveland cop who pursued a murderer native to Nekropolis through a portal to Earth.  Matt died in Nekropolis, but as with so many things over there, being dead takes a twist.

I won't give away any of the plot, because I hate it when people do that.  Suffice it to say Matt may be dead, but he's still very much a streetwise cop.  These aren't the same streets he knew in Cleveland, but crime is crime, and victims are victims, and Matt is determined to bring just a glimmer or law and order to a lawless, chaotic place.

I'm not doing Nekropolis justice.  It's only three bucks and change.  Get it yourself; you won't be sorry!

Seriously, Pneumonia?

Just be glad you're nowhere near me right now.

Sure, I'm still good to look at, but frankly I'm annoying myself to the point that I'd get up and leave the room except that I'd just go right with me.

What began as a chest cold three, count 'em, three weeks ago has devolved, I am told by a licensed medical professional, into pneumonia.

Which came as a bit of a shock, since I've always associated pneumonia with, well, old folks.

But here I am, barely out of my teens and laid low with the awful stuff.  And here is a world of constant hacking coughs accompanied by a chest that has apparently been stuffed full of wet cotton and rusty steel wool.

I've been put on Cipro, the same lovely antibiotic that is prescribed for anthrax infections.  I can kill things just by walking slowly past them, so potent is the Cipro.  Sadly this lethal effect is doing my stomach no good either, but the less said about that the better.

And steroids!  More of them.  I took seven pills yesterday and overnight I grew horns and learned to scale near-vertical cliff faces with my nifty new hooves.  I took six this morning and I'm just back from a run that is a bit of a blur but included parts of France.  You'll know the path I took by the dead grass beside the road and the reports of a pale, coughing hoofed thing that smelled of Vicks Mentholatum chest rub and a vague, raw anger.

What I can't do is maintain a coherent train of thought for any sustained length of time.  I tried writing a bit, and the results reminded me of that old story about monkeys given typewriters if the monkeys were also slapped in the face before being given bottles of whiskey.  It wasn't good.

I did wash clothes and dishes and vacuum.  I have to say that Dyson vacuum cleaner is freaking awesome.  It will inhale the most amazing objects, including but not limited to, the following:

* entire dishrags
* trade paperbacks
* small Jehovah's Witnesses
* the dog Fletcher's tail (sorry about that, Fletch)

And it looks like the secondary hyperspace navigation module from an Arcturan star cruiser.  You just don't often see that in a home appliance.

I'm off to have another coughing fit and watch some Gordon Ramsay on the BBC.

I don't often fall ill, but when I do, I contract pneumonia.
Stay healthy, my friends.

Summer Fun, With Corpses!

I'm not a big fan of public swimming pools.  Oh, I can swim, but the thought of immersing myself in the same fluid that extends to the nether regions of the crowd that regularly graces the pages of People of Walmart has no appeal to me.

Do I not like people?

I like most of them just fine, as long as they A) keep their distance or B) live in other states.  Preferably B.  

But I've digressed.  Swimming pools, as I said, are not for me.  I can say much the same about the outdoors in general, these days.  I find that my preferred environment is cooled to 72 degrees, dimly lit, and features menus and wait staff.  I mean, why bother evolving into a sentient creature in a technological civilization if you don't spend every waking moment getting as far away from that hunting and gathering nonsense as is possible?

Now, I'm sure my primitive forbears had to spend a lot of time mucking about in various dirty, dangerous bodies of water.  And I'm also sure they hated it, right up until the time the crocodiles ate them or the deadly snakes bit them.  So I feel I owe it to them to keep myself well-fed, comfortable, and well away from bodies of water, including swimming pools.

Face it, pools are bacterial resort areas.  People bring in babies.  People bring in themselves.  Have you looked at people lately? Gross. Unless there's enough chlorine in the water to bleach my swim trunks a sudden stark white, forget it.

But pools can harbor worse things that the contents of a baby diaper.  Case in point -- this public pool in Boston held a dead human body for at least two full days.

That's right.  A woman drowned in the pool, and despite the presence of lifeguards and numerous other swimmers her bloating corpse just floated there for forty-eight gruesome, awful hours.

It's not that no one noticed.  At least one kid made a report to the laughably termed 'lifeguards,' who ignored both the report and the green limp woman floating face down in the deep end since yesterday.

I have to wonder -- just what constitutes an emergency in that particular pool?

Drowning obviously isn't it.  Dead bodies clouding up the water with the by-products of decay?  Nah, no biggie.

Splashing, though -- I bet splashing gets you a whistle, and two splashing incidents rates a ban.

The story gets even funnier, aside of course from the 'corpse' part.  The pool was visited by inspectors once during the dead woman's marathon motionless float.  

The inspectors did note a 'cloudiness' in the water.  But, since they apparently never made it past the Scotland Yard entrance exams, no one connected the cloudiness with the gas-filled cadaver making slow turns in the corner.

So yeah.  Let's all rush to the nearest public pool and exchange body fluids with strangers.  It's what summer is all about!

News, Ooze, and, um, Stews?

First of all, a few news items!

The new Markhat novel, THE BROKEN BELL, will be out on December 27 of this year.  I believe I predicted a September release date earlier, but take the September-December discrepancy as just another example of my stunted precognitive psychic abilities.  December 27 is the official word from the publisher. September was just me mumbling after consuming a jarful of cloudy Old Overcoat.

ALL THE PATHS OF SHADOW, my non-Markhat fantasy novel, is still due out in September.  I'll post further details as they become available.

I have two big writing projects lined up for the rest of the year.  In no particular order, they are BROWN RIVER QUEEN and ALL THE TURNS OF LIGHT.  BROWN RIVER QUEEN is a new Markhat novel, and ALL THE TURNS OF LIGHT is the sequel to ALL THE PATHS OF SHADOW.

I'll probably start BROWN RIVER QUEEN, work until the halfway point, and then pick up TURNS OF LIGHT before switching back when it's halfway done.  My thinking is that the midway swap will give me a break from both books without wasting any writing time, and while that idea looks good on paper I'll abandon it if steam starts coming out of my ears when I try it.

Markhat's world and the world of PATHS OF SHADOW/TURNS OF LIGHT are two very different places.  If you've read any Markhat, you know Rannit is a gritty, unforgiving, rough-and-tumble town where the unwary and the unwise are unlikely to last the night.  My other world is a gentler, kinder place, although it has a few dark alleys all its own.  

I'm curious how Markhat fans are going to react to the SHADOW books, and vice versa.  To be quite honest, I once considered releasing PATHS OF SHADOW under a pen name.  Not because it isn't good -- it is -- but because it's not the kind of setting or story people usually associate with my name.  PATHS OF SHADOW is a YA (young adult) book, which means you won't find Trolls smearing vampires all over the walls, or characters wisecracking while juggling recently severed heads.

Which isn't to say there's not drama or peril.  there is, but it's a different flavor.

But you can judge for yourself, in September.

BROWN RIVER QUEEN is set on a riverboat.  Yes, Markhat takes to the sea, or more precisely the sluggish Brown River, aboard a lavish gambling boat.  I'm throwing a little New Orleans seasoning into this one, and a dash of Mark Twain.  It's going to be huge fun -- wait for the scene in which Mama Hog plays a crooked game of roulette.

That's my world right now.  I spared you the awful details of being sick for two weeks and my mechanical ordeals involved in repairing the lawn mower and the chainsaw.  I still have a massive tangle of fallen trees in the backyard to deal with.  Saturday I managed to get the chainsaw running, and I worked manfully for maybe half an hour before a coughing fit sent me scurrying back into the shade.  I'll try again this Saturday, since I'm feeling much stronger now -- might even manage an hour of tree-clearing before I swoon from fatigue.

I will close with the obligatory link to a random book of mine.  Here it is, in Kindle format...others are available...

Dead Man's Rain

Editing the Night Away

The editing on the new book, All the Paths of Shadow, is going quickly and well.  I hope to have the first round edit sent back in a week, if not sooner.  That's hardly the end of the matter -- another round or two of edits is pretty much expected, if not inevitable -- but the first round is generally the most difficult, and it's nearly in the bag.

Most of the time, I handle edits much like I handle haircuts or lawn care.  It's a necessary evil, but not something I revel in.  But I must say, tweaking Paths of Shadow has been fun.  I hope that's a good sign.

I've even come up with a few ideas for the sequel, and maybe even a title for the next book in what may turn out to be a series.  I like All the Turns of Light for the name of the sequel, although that is subject to change.

That's been my world for the last couple of weeks.  Editing, with a side order of bronchitis.  I was laid out flat and coughing for the better part of six days, until the lovely lovely steroids kicked in.  I can breathe again, which is always welcome.

Well, back to work!  By the way -- if you've just read the new Markhat, The Banshee's Walk, drop me an email and tell me what you thought!  My email is franktuttle@franktuttle.com.  I don't bite, and I do respond well to flattery.

Markhat News

The new Markhat book, The Broken Bell, is headed to the First Line Editor (FLE)!  Which means a new Markhat in the near future.  I imagine the e-book will be released first, with the printed version a few months later.  I'll provide dates when they become available.

I've started the first-round edits for the YA novel. This one is entitled All the Paths of Shadow and will be available from Cool Well Press in September. This will, I believe, be a print release.  I'll post details of that release later.

I'm also working on a short story for an upcoming horror anthology and the screenplay for a short Halloween film a good friend of mine, Matthew Graves, is putting together.  I'm also building a couple of props for the movie.  The embalming pump is coming along nicely, and it will look great in the living room long after the movie is done.  I'll post a few pics of it when I have it sealed for fluid.

That's pretty much my world at the moment.  Editing, writing, a little mortuary science -- yes, these are the salad days.

Let's Pester Bookstores

People are asking me when local bookstores will get print copies of  The Banshee's Walk.

Now, it's true that as an author I am privy to many of the Mysterious Secrets of the Universe.  I know all about Area 51.  The Roswell crash?  I have actual debris.  Who shot Kennedy?  I know, but it's best if I don't say.

But sadly, the inner workings of local bookstores are well beyond my ken.  Yes, the book came out June 7.  No, I don't know why they don't have it yet, or when they plan to get it.

So here's the best thing to do -- call them and ask.  Nay, call them and insist -- nay again, demand -- that they stock their shelves with The Banshee's Walk at once!

Bonus points are awarded if you make your demands in a clipped British accent punctuated by excited wavings of your cane.  Double bonus points shall be granted if you glare through your gold-rimmed monocle.

Look, when I ask, they just roll their eyes and pretend to consult their computers while they check for Facebook updates.  But when you, a potential customer ask, it means business, and so do they.

There are three bookstores in Oxford.  I've posted their names and phone numbers below.  Give them a call, and help me get The Banshee's Walk on local bookshelves so I can feed my ego by strolling elegantly past while smoking a tweed jacket:

SQUARE BOOKS:
Phone  (662) 236-2262
Ask for The Banshee's Walk by Frank Tuttle


PAINT AND PEN:
Phone   (662) 236-9494 

Ask for The Banshee's Walk by Frank Tuttle   

BARNES & NOBLE (OLE MISS BOOKSTORE)
Phone   (662) 915-7137 
Ask for The Banshee's Walk by Frank Tuttle


If you also want to throw in phrases such as 'Tuttle is the greatest living writer since Eugene K. Shirtbasket' or
'I want to order three hundred copies please' then be my guest.


If you want to skip the whole meat-world shopping process and jump straight to the Web, order your copy here.   

Another Thing I Hate

Once upon a time, there was a lawn mower I hated with every fiber of my hate-covered, hate-filled, hate-centered being.

I hated that mower.  I hated every bolt, every nut, every linkage, every cotter pin, every mis-shaped and leaky hose.  I hated the sound the engine made on those rare occasions when it did crank and I hated the smirking silence it exuded on the far more frequent occasions when it didn't.  I used to lie awake at night and imagine myself smashing it into bits with a ten pound sledge hammer.  Remember the printer-in-the-field scene from the movie Office Space?  Where the guys take the copier that's bedeviled them and go on a primal-ape ragefest that ends when there's just nothing left to kick?

Yeah.  That, but with the kind of mad-eyed rage one normally associates with 25 consecutive lifetime prison sentences.  We're talking deep, wide, burning epic hatred here.  

That mower is gone now -- and in its place, I present to you the Poulan Pro chainsaw.

I've spent the afternoon foolishly trying to replace the pull starter on the accursed spawn of Hell.  It looks simple enough.  Six parts.  A few screws.  I remember sitting down and thinking to myself, how hard can this be?

Well, little did I know that the engineers at Poulan (spelled 'we torture we kill hahahaha') spent the better part of the last two centuries refining the dark art of making simple repairs not only impossible but surprisingly dangerous.

Look, this shouldn't be such a big deal.  It's a pull starter.  A couple of springs.  A racheting wheel.  A pull cord.  But somebody at Poulan had to sit down and think really hard about a way to turn that into an operation that requires:

* Zero gravity

* A person with at least four limbs

* A tool which can extend itself through seven of the 14 known dimensions

And brother if you don't have those three items you are screwed.

The heart of this travesty is the main recoil spring.  And when I say spring, I'm speaking in the loosest possible terms.  Someone decided they could shave an twenty-eighth of a cent off manufacturing costs if they replaced the spring with an 18 foot length of narrow springy metal.

The sadistically cheerful instructions that came with the replacement parts advise you, the hapless installer, to 'rewind the main spring and replace it in the housing.'

I hear the serial killer from Saw saying that now.  Saying it with a smirk.  Because he knows there's no way you're ever going to get that murderous length of razor sharp steel back in any housing no matter how much type-matched blood you have on hand.

I made five attempts before deciding, and I quote, '@#$$#@  #$^%$^%& ^%&%^*&%^ #%^&%^&!"  I wound up with the hooked tip of the thing in my right eye, in my left ear, and even (I kid you not) poking up my shorts before pronouncing the erudite phrase above and leaving the cursed thing where it fell.

So keep it up, chainsaw.  There's a spot out in the field for you too, right beside the old Craftsman mower. I hear the rust creeps very slowly.  Very slowly indeed.    

And to my pals at Poulan -- stop making simple crap hard!  It's a chainsaw, not a freaking particle collider.  Act like you've built tools before, morons.

Time to find my sledge hammer.

And The Winner Is...

Joe Austin!

Now to backtrack a bit.

Last week, I announced a contest in which a signed copy of  The Banshee's Walk would be given away to a single person among those who entered the contest by emailing, liking the post on Facebook, or commenting on this blog .

Hundreds of thousands of entries rolled in, if you're counting individual electrons.  This afternoon I compiled a list of all entrants (by hand, since my printer is dead), put them all in a box, and drew out a single name.

Which was Joe Austin, who entered via Facebook.  So, Joe, hit me with your contact info and I'll get your signed copy of The Banshee's Walk out pronto!

In other Markhat news, I just finished my end of the first round edits on the new Markhat book, The Broken Bell.   So a brand new full-length (120,000 words) Markhat novel will be available soon -- first in e-book format, of course, and then later in print.  I'm just guessing here, but the e-book might hit in late August or early September.  That probably means a Christmas release for the print version. Again, I'm just guessing!

And lets not forget about All the Paths of Shadow, my YA fantasy novel which may be coming out around the same time from Cool Well Press.  Paths of Shadow is another long book, weighing in at around 120,000 words as well.  Meralda's world is quite different from Markhat's, but I hope readers love them both.

Okay, back to work for me!  Congratulations, Joe.  Hope you enjoy The Banshee's Walk!

It's My Birthday and I'll Lie if I Want To

According to various faded cave paintings and weathered etchings in fragments of clay tablets, today is my birthday.

A few relatively simple calculations indicate I am older than most cabbages, but younger than many large-scale geologic features.  I am what people my age call 'middle age' and what everyone else calls 'old.'  Especially young people, with their raves and their hippity-hoppity music and their newfangled eye-pads.

But I haven't walked this sullen Earth all these years without learning a thing or two.  So gather round, chilluns, while the Old Man speaks words of wisdom...

1) Limit eye contact.  Good seldom comes of it.
2) The phrase 'this will only take a minute' is best translated as 'I'm here to steal your entire freaking day.'
3) Dogs are better people than most people.
4) Corollary to #4: If your dogs growls at someone, bite that person.  Bite them hard.  Because dogs are excellent judges of character, but you don't want your dog biting strangers, who knows what kind of weird diseases they're carrying.
5) An evil, utterly amoral lawyer is worth his or her weight in poison-coated claw hammers, as long as they are your lawyer.
6) A healthy, balanced diet will ultimately leave you just as dead as Jimmy Hoffa.  Have the cheeseburger if you want it.  Will you really miss those sixteen extra seconds hooked to a ventilator?
7) Beware overt altruism.  Also people who use the word 'beware.'  Seriously, who talks like that?
8) Don't get too worked up over politics.  Here's the truth -- both parties, all parties, their candidate, your candidate -- they're all the same.  Flip sides of the same cheesy coin.  Negative images of the same banal scene.  No one is going to turn things around.  No one is going to make any difference.  The 'elected' part of the government was neutered years ago.  Vote.  Don't vote.  It no longer matters, at least here in the US of A.  So relax and enjoy the ride as best you can.
9) Ear hair is quite fashionable, if properly groomed.
10) Wear a smile, but locate the exits.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes!

I am on iTunes!

The Markhat books are now available from iTunes.

Okay, that may not seem like a big deal.  But for me it is -- winding up on iTunes is the modern equivalent of arriving, baby.  And it seems Markhat has arrived.

iTunes.

This is one of those moments.

It's not a perfect moment.  The cover image for Dead Man's Rain, which is one of my personal favorites, isn't there; instead is the cover for another book.  Shame on you, iTunes!  Even tiny little e-book resellers got the cover images right.

But that can be fixed.  What matters is that iPads everywhere can browse the iBooks bookstore and see Markhat books proudly displayed.

This rocks.  Here's a link to my iTunes author roundup.  Check it out.

Frank's Markhat books on iTunes

And with that, I say, woohoo!

THE BANSHEE'S WALK out today!

It's finally June 7, which means finer bookstores everywhere in the universe can place printed copies of The Banshee's Walk on their shelves!

You can snag a copy online for just $10.50 at Samhain, which will deliver it to your door with a minimum or fuss and bother.  Amazon will do the same, but the book costs a bit more there.

I'd like to announce a signing to go along with the release, but you try being a fantasy author and getting the bookstores hereabouts to book a signing for you.  Go on.  I'll wait right here, with my chair and books and my bag lunch.  Because you're going to be a long time arranging that gig, baby.  Now, if you wise up and start writing about drunks and catfish and love gone wrong down at the trailer park, you'll be showered with accolades, even if your total sales rank in the high single-digits.  Because you're writing LIT-RAT-TURE, while I'm apparently churning out fluff.

Bitter much?

Maybe a little.  I suppose it's the implied 'Come back and see us when you're a real writer' attitude that truly irks me.  Some Gothed-out Emo cranks out a 40-page book of third-rate poems, and they get wine and cheeses.  I have a freaking series of novels out, e-book and print, well-reviewed and apparently well-liked, and I get the cold shoulder because someone wrinkles their nose at the word 'fantasy.'

Rant off.  Had to share.  Anyway, back to business --

Fans of the Markhat series will be pleased to know the first round of edits on the new book are well underway!  The new book will be called The Broken Bell, and though no dates have been set in stone yet I'm thinking September for the e-book release, which is always ahead of the print release.

I think people are going to love The Broken Bell.  You get to see Mama Hog stomp her way to Pot Lockney with murder on her mind.  You get to see Markhat tackles the big question concerning his relationship with Darla.  The Broken Bell has it all -- love and hate, war and peace, biscuits and ham.  I'm really happy with the  way the series is heading.

So, to recap -- The Banshee's Walk is out in print, starting today.  If your local bookstore doesn't have it ask for it.  Or just hit one of the links above for painless home delivery.

Either way, just buy!

Monday Horoscopes!

It's Monday again.  To help you plan your week, I have once again consulted the heavens, questioned the stars, drawn the charts and looked askance at the goats.  I called up fell spirits from realms beyond the dark.  I rolled enchanted dice with the Spectre of Death himself (I'm down another $250 bucks with him).  

All in all, next week looks like another rough one.  Find your sign below, and come face to face with your fate, if you dare...

ARIES (March 21-April 20)

Your attorney swears he's never handled a case of bear-trap negligence before, but is confident he can win you some sort of compensation.

TAURUS (April 21 - May 20)

Your general lack of buoyancy was never a problem -- until next Tuesday.

GEMINI (May 21 - June 20)

Most people accept their fate with quiet dignity, but then most people don't find themselves on fire in a tack factory.

CANCER (June 21 - July 22)

Thursday, you learn too late that the Serbian phrase for 'I am a tourist' sounds almost exactly like the phrase for 'I am happy to violate policemen.'  

LEO (July 23 - August 22)

Getting your head stuck in the Large Hadron Collider is not the way you planned to start off your week, is it?

VIRGO (August 23 - September 23)

A cross-country road trip is exactly what you need, although being bound and thrown in the trunk does limit your view of America's scenic byroads. 

LIBRA (September 24 - October 23)

You will scrub and scrub, but getting all the bat guano out of your hair is going to take forever.

SCORPIO (October 24 - November 21)

Just as the CDC encloses your house in quarantine plastic, you will be forced to admit the neighbors were right about the smell all along.

SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21)

Lucky for you, artificial noses are easily obtainable and quite affordable.

CAPRICORN (December 22 - January 19)

Your hope that the Mafia maintains a sense of humor will be dashed Friday with a visit by Ernie 'The Fingers'  Vintagliano.

AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 19)

"Look what the cat dragged in" will take on a horrible new meaning around midnight next Wednesday.

PISCES (February 20 - March 20)

The laws of physics always favor fast-moving boulders over your need to avoid costly emergency surgery.

SPECIAL NOTE TO STEWART IN ABILENE:

Storing old dynamite in the pinata was just begging for trouble, doofus.

WIN THIS BOOK!

Yes, it's another contest!  You -- yes, you -- can enter to win a signed copy of THE BANHEE'S WALK, which sees its official print release in a few days (on June 7).  But you can win a signed copy, and be the envy of all your friends, yea, the envy of whole nations!

You can see THE BANSHEE'S WALK in the image above.  Note how the comically small skeleton is pleased to present it to you!  What's that?

Um, no, I'm not sure why a comically small skeleton is involved in all this.  The wooden box in the image?  Well, er, it's where the skeleton sleeps.  Yeah.  No, I don't know why.  Look, I don't have a publicist yet, okay?  I've got a camera and a few Halloween props and some red velvet.  Go with me on this.

As I was saying, entering is easy.  You can enter in any of the following ways:

1) 'Like' this post on Facebook.
2) Email me at franktuttle@franktuttle.com . Be sure to mention you want to enter the Banshee contest.  Flattery will result in an immediate drastic increase of your odds of winning.
3) Comment on this blog post.

Next Sunday afternoon, one week from today, I'll collect all the names and put them in the wooden box in the image.  I will then shake the box, apologize to Mr. Skeleton for shaking him, and then withdraw the winning name.

If you emailed your entry, I'll notify you via email.  If you FB liked or commented on the blog, I'll track down your contact info and notify you too.

Simple, no?  Click to win!  Your prize will be mailed to you, at my expense, via the proud and noble USPS.  Signed, as I mentioned, which assures its value will only skyrocket in the coming years.

Skeleton, box, and scrap of red velvet not included.  Void where prohibited by physical law.  Offer not valid in the Third Galactic Arm.  Some settling of contents may occur during shipping.

Now enter, people!  Destiny awaits!

Things That Go Bump, Part II

As I predicted in last night's blog, the SyFy show 'Haunted Collector' embodied the usual TV ghost-hunting show tropes and followed the same format as all the others.  You got your obligatory green night-vision shots, your whispered EVPs, your standard mis-use of infrared FLIR cameras.

I was wholly underwhelmed.  I can usually suspend my disbelief long enough to at least enjoy the shows as sheer entertainment, but when the team 'discovered' a box beneath the house (which held a mud-encrusted revolver) I lost all interest.  I haven't seen acting that wooden since Howdy Doody.

Maybe I'm being too hasty in my judgment of the show.  Could be I'm just waxing cynical in general.

In other news, The Banshee's Walk hits the shelves in print form on June 7!  Banshee was showing on Amazon as a pre-order up until today.  Now it shows 'in-stock' but there's only 1 copy left!  So go ahead and order that one.  Amazon will re-stock on June 7.

Or you can get your copy from Samhain, the publisher, at the same low price.

Either way, just get one!  Markhat needs a new pair of shoes.  Mama Hog needs dental work.

Here's a cover, which is loaded with subliminal buying instructions.  Do not look away...

Things That Go Bump

Pick just about any broadcaster.  Odds are, you'll find a ghost hunting show.  A&E has 'Paranormal State.'  SyFy has the venerable 'Ghost Hunters.'  Even Animal Planet has gotten into the act with 'The Haunted.'

Now, when the execs at Animal Planet decided to go with a show based on the paranormal, you know the trend has truly peaked.  'The Haunted' quit even pretending to have an animal-centric point of view after the first few episodes.  Now they just throw in a brief shot of a cat every now and then before getting back to the haint o' the week.

Every show has its own slant.  'Paranormal State' usually brings everything back to demons.  They're in your cupboards, in your closets, under your beds.  If you move the demons Google you and show up in a couple days pissed because you bought a split-level ranch and they hate stairs.  If you stay the demons invite all their old college buddies over and before you know it the whole place stinks of brimstone and nobody can get a decent night's sleep for all the head-spinning and bed-shaking.

'Ghost Hunters' doesn't generally play the demon card.  Instead, they tend to focus on EVPs, the ever-popular but utterly un-provable 'I'm being touched,' and the odd instance of a door opening or a chair moving all by itself.  Most of the time, Jay and Grant depart after assuring the property owner that they're in no danger.  I get the feeling Jay and Grant have been doing their show so long they're absolutely bored with it now.  A ten-foot-tall spectre glowing with the intensity of a thousand 747 landing lights and bellowing in the voice of Satan probably wouldn't rate more than a 'huh, that's unusual' from Jay, these days.

'The Haunted' always starts small.  A bump in the night.  Something moved a few inches.  The sound of voices  down the hall.  But before the second round of commercials, the activity has reached full-blown bleeding-walls/flies in the Holy Water/Amityville heights and the terrified homeowners invariably contact a 'local paranormal research group' for help.  What happens next varies -- sometimes it's a restless but benign spirit, sometimes its a demon on vacation from the set of 'Paranormal State.'  In the case of the latter, Holy Water is flung, Latin is read, and we fade to a scene of a 'changed' house and some soothing credits music.

Tonight SyFy debuts a new paranormal show, 'Haunted Collector.'  So now if your house isn't haunted, your collectible figurines are, which quite frankly serves you right for collecting figurines in the first place.  I haven't seen the show, but I will make a few bold predictions concerning its format and subject matter:

• There will be frequent use of green IR night vision shots.
• Cut-aways will occur during pivotal displays of supernatural activity.
• Dolls.  There will be lots of dolls.  Because what could possibly be creepier when filmed in grainy green IR night-shot than a roomful of brooding dolls?
• EVP evidence will play a major role in the presentation of evidence. 

Those are my predictions.  If I score less than three out of four I'll wear white shoes after Labor Day.

I've dabbled in the field of ghost hunting myself.  I've even captured a few EVP recordings that are quite interesting.  So I'm not a hard-core 'unbeliever.'

I just find the recent proliferation of such shows amusing, that's all.  Mainly because I realize they live or die by ratings, and let's face it -- if the ghosts don't put on a show, the network has a vested interest in using a few tight-lipped production assistants to fill in where the dear departed failed.

Which is what led me to try recording my own EVPs in the first place.  I knew how easy they'd be to fake, and I saw how easy the shows made it appear to capture them.  So, I reasoned, if I go out a few dozen times and come back with nothing, well, it's clear what's going on.

I captured a reasonably clear EVP my first time out.  In a cemetery.  

How cliche.  You ghosts out there -- show some imagination!  A cemetery?  Seriously?  What's next, white sheets?  Rattling chains?

Still, I heard what I heard.  I can't explain it.  Even so, I refuse to even label the voices as those of 'ghosts.'  And until someone can absolutely rule out all other possible sources, I won't.

But there are plenty of people who will.  Their shows are fun to watch -- but bring the proverbial grain of salt.

Monday Horoscopes, Special Dismemberment Edition

This week's horoscopes are brought to you by stars 61 Cygni, Tau Ceti, and Struve 2398!  On behalf of all the nearby celestial bodies, they'd like to --


Oh.  Oh my.  That's truly disgusting.  What?  With an anvil?


-- wait, I really can't say that.  What have you people been doing to the stars lately, anyway?


I'd best just get on with it.  So, without further ado, here are your horoscopes for the next week:

ARIES (March 21-April 20)

Sure, the seat belts might not save you, but they will speed up identification of your remains.

TAURUS (April 21 - May 20)

No one believed the tiger was real, until you proved it by sneezing.

GEMINI (May 21 - June 20)

Some days you win, some days the meat grinder just won't turn off.

CANCER (June 21 - July 22)

Be glad you're one of the few people who can truly rock the armless sweater look.

LEO (July 23 - August 22)

Sadly, your doctor's calm assurances that flesh-eating bacteria infections are rare will prove overly optimistic.

VIRGO (August 23 - September 23)

You'll hardly even miss those four ribs, except on cold days, or times when you need to bend or lean.

LIBRA (September 24 - October 23)

It's not whether you win or lose, unless your opponent is a crazed serial cannibal.  Then it probably matters.  Too bad about your toes.

SCORPIO (October 24 - November 21)

It's a myth you need both ears to hold up sunglasses.  But as you will learn, you do in fact need a nose.

SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21)

They say life will never burden you with more than you can bear.  But they never tried to push a flaming snack truck off their torso, did they?

CAPRICORN (December 22 - January 19)

When Life hands you lemons, make lemonade!  You'll struggle to apply this axiom next Tuesday during the mishap with the gaseous cyanide.

AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 19)

Hospitals make mistakes all the time, and anyway you're left with one perfectly good kidney, Mister Whiney Britches.

PISCES (February 20 - March 20)

Even autopsy techs need a good laugh at work now and then, and you'll certainly provide them with that, as soon as the ice around your torso melts away.

SPECIAL NOTE TO BENNY IN VEGAS:

Well of course they'll look in the crawlspace.  Do you even have basic cable?  Sheesh.  I don't even know why I bother.

Seven Secrets

I knew someone was following me!  The hairs on the back of my neck kept standing up.  I saw fleeting shadows dart away from the corner of my eye.  Furtive footsteps fell faint on the forest floor.

I kept finding cast-off marshmallow bags in the strangest places.

That should have been a clue.  For who else consumes raw marshmallows, other than famed romance writer and occasional nurturer of bats Jane Lovering?

If you don't know Jane, you should.  She writes great books that also genuinely laugh-out-loud funny.  I love her wit, which is very British and always spot-on insightful.  You should check out her From Behind the Keyboard site and then swiftly and with a keen sense of determination click your way to a purchase of one of her books.  I suggest Slightly Foxed, which is printed (yay!) and therefore universally compatible with all standard-issue human visual equipment and has an infinite battery life to boot.

When Jane isn't being intentionally hilarious, she roams the net handing out Versatile Blogger awards.  Yesterday she awarded one to me, which is displayed below for your edification.

Fig. 1, the award.  

Now, by the Immutable Laws of the All-Reaching Internet, I am required to post in observance of this Award (see Fig. 1) seven things you do not know about me.  

Jane posted her Seven Things here.  You should probably click that link and read hers instead of mine, because hers are funny and mine will probably (and quite predictably) devolve into a discussion of zombies or the terrors of lawn care.   

Anyway, here goes:

SEVEN THINGS YOU NEVER KNEW ABOUT ME

1) I detest shaking hands. It's a stupid custom, and trying to determine how much pressure to apply and how long one should hold a stranger's hand are both decisions I can happily live without.  I'm so fed up with handshakes in general I've decided I'll just look puzzled at all those outstretched hands.  Or maybe fill them with random pamphlets.  Perhaps I'll just take the whole procedure to its next logical step and instigate a spirited round of crotch-sniffing.  That should soon eliminate further offers of handshakes.

2) I have all the ABBA albums.  I have them, and I sometimes listen to them.  Don't act so shocked.  You know you've got a Backstreet Boys CD hidden in a sock drawer somewhere...

3) I write my blogs wearing a Richard M Nixon mask.  Hey.  You have your  foibles, and I have mine.

4) I was bored absolutely to literal tears by this SF classic.  I'm still a bit ashamed of that, but a more impenetrable and muddled book I have never encountered (I refer to the first book in the series; I never got past that).  Read the glowing reviews concerning the book's complexity, its use of metaphor and theme, its exploration of philosophy and theology.  Then consider how all that obviously went straight over my head, because my impressions of the book ranged from 'Huh?' to 'WTF?'.  If you must think less of me, I understand.

5) I'm 47, and sometimes I still wonder where my childhood 'GI Joe' action figure is, and how he's doing.  That's probably a sign of some deep-seated neurosis.  Or the result of lingering emotional scars inflicted during my attempt to finish the book mentioned in #4.  

6) I hate mirrors.   I've never liked the things.  That's not me reflected there.  Ditto for photographs.  I don't want to see those either if I'm anywhere in them.  

7) I assign mental nicknames to people I meet because I forget their real names almost instantly upon being introduced.  Especially if I have to shake hands with them.  Especially if I have to shake hands with them in front of a mirror while being photographed.  Thus my inner landscape is populated by the likes of Bad Hair and Pig Eyes and Mister Coffee Breath.  If I become friends with someone, of course that changes, but given my warm and caring nature that seldom happens.

So, there you have it -- seven secrets revealed, and the Law of the Internet fulfilled!  

I shall wear my Versatile Blogger award with pride.  

Your Monday Horoscope, with Additional Gauze Bandages

The fickle stars have spoken!  Read below to learn your fate, if you dare.  Looks like the stars have been watching way too much CSI yet again...

ARIES (March 21-April 20)

Don't act so shocked at all your media attention.  Multiple amputations are seldom associated with petting zoo mishaps.

TAURUS (April 21 - May 20)

Your feeling that you are being watched is tragically validated in later weeks as dental records confirm your jawbone's identity.

GEMINI (May 21 - June 20)

Suddenly, your attorney's insanity defense strategy is dealt a fatal blow.  On the bright side, you've lost eight pounds during the trial!

CANCER (June 21 - July 22)

This is a good time to study the habits and behaviors of the Eastern Diamondback rattlesnake, which is being forced from its natural habitat and into your sock drawer.  

LEO (July 23 - August 22)

As you soon learn, what is called 'bullet-proof' glass is actually better labeled 'bullet-RESISTANT' glass. 

VIRGO (August 23 - September 23)

Even the FBI can't quite determine how a highly toxic pufferfish wound up alive and intact in your small intestine.

LIBRA (September 24 - October 23)

Focus on the positive!  None of your friends will ever wind up with an obituary featured in its entirety on 'News of the Weird.'

SCORPIO (October 24 - November 21)

Some say every knock at your door might be that of Opportunity.  As the police will later state, however, sometimes it's just a lunatic with a wrecking bar and the strong conviction that you are Satan, Lord of the Underworld. 

SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21)

You have to laugh every time you hear someone say 'That which does not kill you makes you stronger.'  And man does it hurt to laugh with all those new stitches.  

CAPRICORN (December 22 - January 19)

Turns out you were wrong to so easily dismiss the stories of anal probes performed during alien abductions.

AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 19)

You will eventually receive proper scholarly recognition for your unfortunate involvement in proving that piranhas have indeed migrated well into North American waterways.

PISCES (February 20 - March 20)

They will never quite piece together your final few moments, leaving your recorded comments about 'the knuckles, the horrible knuckles' an enduring mystery in the field of paranormal research.

SPECIAL NOTE TO SUZANNE IN MEMPHIS:

Not until 2018, when a cold case unit orders the exhumation of your remains.

Have a nice week!

Box O' Books!

Just my luck.

I get my box of author's copies of THE BANSHEE'S WALK the very day the world ends.

Pic is below!

You can get your copy from Amazon (or your favorite brick and mortar bookstore) starting on June 7.  Or you can pre-order from Amazon here, if you're impatient -- and why shouldn't you be?  Readers who have gotten a sneak peek of THE BANSHEE'S WALK report the following side effects:

* Weight loss
* Reading granted powers of flight, invisibility
* Overall physical attractiveness increased on average of 754%
* Shoes polished, undergarments dry-cleaned and folded

Can you afford not to read THE BANSHEE'S WALK?  Is my repetition of the title THE BANSHEE'S WALK creating within you a well nigh irresistible urge to purchase the aforementioned full-length novel?

Okay, okay, I get the hint.

I would like to thank the hard-working people at Samhain Publishing for making BANSHEE look so good.  Cover artist Natalie Winters did a great job, and of course without the patient and long-suffering attention of my editor Beth, BANSHEE would be 140,000 words of meandering muddle and it would still be making its sole home on my PC's hard drive.

June 7, print book hits the stands, shutting up now...