King of Kings

It’s been years since I read a novel by Stephen King. His On Writing is a staple on my bookshelf, but despite his name perennially displayed in the New Releases section at the local bookstore, the last novel I read was Gerald’s Game in 1993, and even then, I did not finish it. Too scary.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I still believe The Stand is his best work. Cal Leandros even gives it an honourable mention in Roadkill!

The man doesn’t need a book release to get my attention, however. I have long admired him for his honesty and, in particular, his sense of humour. The guy’s a hoot.

Little did I know that he and George R.R. Martin have been friends for decades, since before GRRM struck gold with A Game of Thrones (the book, not the TV series). So imagine my delight on finding a video of the two old pals having an onstage conversation when Steve’s recent book tour brought him to New Mexico. The bulk of the talk was stuff I already knew, but I always appreciate hearing how the professionals operate. One of King’s genre policies is this: “Aim for terror. If you can’t reach terror, aim for horror. If horror eludes you, settle for the gross-out.”

The other thing he said that had me rolling on the floor was during an elaboration of a storyline. He mentioned a villain’s recent diagnosis of pancreatic cancer as motivation for a diabolical act and the audience gasped as one. He looked at them and scolded, “It’s written on page nine, for Chrissakes! Spoilers? Spoilers? There’s no such thing as a spoiler. You can’t ‘spoil’ a book; people read books to have an experience, so who cares?”

Or words to that effect.

He’s right. If he was wrong, I’d only read a book once. How else can I explain my passion for revisiting The Night Circus or GRRM’s series, or Station Eleven or the Cal Leandros novels; or for multiple viewings of Orphan Black or The Newsroom, for that matter? Knowing what happens ahead of time is clearly no deterrent. It’s the joy of reconnecting with beloved characters that brings me back time and again.

I recognize that some folks prefer the slow reveal. I admit, I prefer it myself, but knowing before I saw The Empire Strikes Back that Luke Skywalker’s dad was Darth Vader did not prevent me from paying to see the movie. If you really care, you won’t care. Stephen King certainly doesn’t.

Long live the King.

Bibliography X

“Nevermore (a Cal Leandros novel)” – Rob Thurman

How the &$^%#* did I not know about this book? Imagine my surprise—and Ter’s unbridled glee—when I peeled the paper from a book-shaped Christmas prezzie and spied Cal Leandros on the cover!

I think I screamed.

One of the questions in a getting-to-know-you survey for a work conference last November was Which character from your favourite book would you like to meet? I chickened out and picked Louis de Pointe du Lac. Cal is so scary that I picked a vampire instead of him.

Yes, I love him. I think he’s f***ing awesome … but do I want to meet him?

Hell, no.

What really messed me up was how Ter knew that this, the tenth in the series, had been released and I didn’t. “Easy,” she replied. “I got an email from amazon.”

Oh, right. I haven’t purchased a Cal novel online for years. The last was Blackout, which put me on amazon’s reminder list, but when they advised me that Doubletake was due, I went to Munro’s Books and had them order my copy. I did the same with Slashback the following year. I got the nudge about Downfall , but because it came out close to September, I bugged Ter into getting it for my birthday in stead of buying it myself. Three strikes, I’m out, and now she gets the notifications.

Am I disappointed?

Hell, no! It was the best stunner ever! She’s still so proud of herself that she snickers when she sees me buried in it (I read the prologue before breakfast on Christmas Day); again, it’s a breakneck run-for-your-life shoot-’em-up roller coaster ride with my half-human, half-monster hero at the wheel. I read these novels so fast that I have to read them again when I’m done, to catch the details. They are primarily entertainment, but I’ve learned a lot about writing urban fantasy from them, too. I have to admit, despite my love and respect for The Vampire Chronicles and A Song of Ice and Fire, I have a soft spot in my heart for incorrigible Cal that puts the ongoing trauma of his fight to survive so high on my list of favourites that he may very well be the champion.

He’s a guilty pleasure, for sure.

Guns and the F-Bomb

That was Rob Thurman’s answer when she was asked why she chose the urban fantasy genre for her novels. “Guns and the f-bomb,” she said. She loves guns, and UF allows for flagrant cursing which, if your hero is consistently targeted by the same monsters he’s been hired to kill, is a justifiable offense.

I don’t know much about guns—my nephew is my go-to guy when I need weapons advice—but I learned how to cuss in earnest while working the night shift at a local radio station twentysome years ago. That said, my desire to write within the genre has more to do with bending the rules than unleashing my inner foul-mouthed schnook. It’s a place where I can explore alternate realities and meet wondrous characters who aren’t human, yet who face similarly human dilemmas.

My plan today was to walk straight home from the village after Ter dropped me off, getting my flânerie in early and snapping a few pictures on the way. No Asian Mist, no journaling; just a walk in the sun while I sorted the next scene in Calista’s story.

Problem is and as usual, another story is surfacing. It’s one that I’ve glimpsed in hints like shadows in a dark corner but haven’t been able to see full-on. Some details have begun to present themselves, so I grabbed my scribbly journal and a fiver, then sat at Moka House to purge my head of the voices. (The drink in the pic is an apple pie carmello and, no, I won’t be doing one again. Too sweet.)

I got a bunch of stuff on paper, including the lyrics to a Durannie B-side called Secret Oktober because the song has long intrigued me and I think may have inspired some structure for this tale. I’ve got two characters, a premise, and a beginning—what comes afterward is still in the dark. As with most of my stories, it will develop as it’s written and that’s okay. I watched an interview with the creators of Orphan Black—you’d think a story about clones would have started as a story about clones, but it didn’t. One guy said to the other, “What if you saw your identical twin just before he stepped in front of a train?” Now they’re two seasons in and a third has been ordered … but I digress.

The opening scene of this latest is so vivid in my mind that it has to be written before I can do anything more with anyone else, so that’s my plan for the morning. Two more episodes of OB and some domestic stuff is on tap for the afternoon, and it’s already 9:30 so I’d better get it in gear.

Who has time for a day job???

Out of Office

“I am out of the office until Monday, September 8, 2014. Neither email nor voice mail is being monitored, so if you want me, you’re SOL …”

As of yesterday at 4:30, I am on vacation, semi-regularly monitoring my home email, and still running phone calls through the machine to avoid those pesky (why do we pay for an unlisted number?) telemarketers. My grand plan is to get very well acquainted with my recently acquired keyboard – the one with a working “B”. I started yet another story last weekend, this one about … well, let’s just say that all the work I did a decade ago seems to be relevant to stories I’m inspired to write now. “Black in Back” is likely to get some attention into the bargain; it certainly hasn’t fallen off the radar, but this new one is, as are most new things, shinier and therefore of more interest at present.

Speaking of which, I’ve got season two of Orphan Black scheduled into lunchtimes next week and the latest in the Leandros bromance to finish – I’m almost halfway through Downfall and it’s painful to tear myself away for things like work, food, and sleep. I was telling Ter this morning how volume nine has introduced some very cool points that tie in with our ongoing Philosophy Quest, things at which a lot of urban fantasy fans may roll their eyes, but with which I am completely on board. Multiple lives figure prominently, of course, and a character who has run the gamut with Cal and Niko throughout the series is sharing the narrative with our hero. I was initially lukewarm at the prospect of the world’s biggest braggart taking the wheel, but he’s turned out to be more sympathetic than I thought. And Cal … what can I say about Cal? I’m scared to death for him, more scared than he is – or claims to be; I’m fairly sure he’s more afraid than he dares let on, but his rage is absolutely on target.

If I haven’t said it a hundred times before, I—love—this—guy.

As for Orphan Black, wow, who knew? Apparently I did; I recall my ears pricking at trailers when the first season ran on Showcase, but I couldn’t find it on the schedule so let it fall by the wayside. I caught the first season on DVD last month; it’s gratifying when my instinct for unique and brilliantly-done TV/movies/books proves to be bang-on. I am now as deeply hooked by Sara Manning’s ongoing adventures as I am by Cal and Niko’s. Lemme tell you, with competition this fierce, the “real world” has got a lot of catching up to do.

Maybe without me in it for a couple of weeks, it’ll try harder to keep me engaged when I’m forced back into it.

Serial Reader

The ninth—and, so I’ve heard, the last—Cal Leandros novel is due for release in August. I’ve requested it for my birthday and am presently blasting through the three volumes preceding so I can hit the ground running in September. I spent most of the weekend with my nose in Blackout, white-knuckling with Cal and Co. while deftly avoiding work on the novel.

I admit, I’m stuck and I don’t know how to fix it.

So it’s been handy having an excuse to ignore it. The Cal series is a nightmare ride that just won’t quit. I’ve raved about it before and won’t repeat myself here except to say again, damn, I wish I’d written it. I love a good series. I started as a kid with The Happy Hollisters, graduated to Walter Farley’s The Black Stallion in my tweens, Dorothy Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicle in my teens and from then … heck, I started writing my own. My bookshelves are loaded with multi-volume sets: E.E. Knight’s The Vampire Earth, Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series (to volume 8; after that, it got stupid), Rob Thurman’s Cal Leandros novels, George R.R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire, of course, and most recently, the Weather Warden series by Rachel Caine. I get comfortable in another world and off I go.

Not sure what it says about me that I’m so comfy reading about guns and monsters and incestuous siblings, especially given my outwardly positive, optimistic mantra-chanting appearance. Perhaps I’ll simply file the irony under “contrast” and proceed on my merry way.

I Wish I'd Written That

"Half Human, Half Monster, All Attitude"

I mentioned Rob Thurman a while back – she (yes, she) is the author of my favourite urban fantasy series starring Cal Leandros (pictured above) and his half-brother, Niko. It’s such a good story and the characters are so brilliantly portrayed that I actually drop whatever else I’m reading when the latest volume is released. Eight are on my shelf and I’ve heard that the ninth is to be the last, but that’s okay. They’re good enough to read more than once. I can say that because I’m on the second round as we speak and none of it has paled for me.

She has totally nailed the first person narrative. Cal is the primary voice and he is … gods, how does one describe Cal? He’s dark, he’s surly, he’s street-smart, he’s scary, he’s hysterically funny, he’s loyal, augh, he’s fabulous. He’s so great that I wish I had written him. Truly. Characters like Cal are not a dime a dozen; I would happily pop him into my top five favourites. I might even put him in the top three.

Cal’s world is as uniquely special as he is. Yup, it’s a paranormal, homicidal, kill-or-be-killed kind of world and all the while he’s trying to stay one step ahead of the real monster within himself. I read these books with my heart in my mouth, they’re action-packed and freakish in the horror department, yet the characters – always the characters – make it, well, not exactly fun, but … yeah, they’re fun. I can’t imagine that they are written slowly; they read as if Cal is running and talking at the same time, and he’ll be the first to tell you that grammar holds no place in the survival game so proper English has been pretty well abandoned. He gets his point across with pitch-black humour, loads of cursing, and the aid of his prized Desert Eagle.

I—love—this—guy.

That’s it. I just wanted to rave about a series so dark and villainously twisted that I’ve developed a serious case of writer’s envy.

Surrender

 

 

“If you surrender and go with her, you have surrendered to enchantment, as if in a voluptuous dream.”

 

Way back in the 1970s, this was the Boston Globe’s opinion of Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire. I would dearly love to have it apply to my writing, so I’ve kept it in my heart for all these years and aspired to be worthy of it.

 

I was heavily influenced by Anne Rice in the 1980s, then George R.R. Martin, and now, Rob Thurman. Three vastly different authors with three vastly different styles, each of which has left an impression that may or may not be reflected in my own writing. In striving to emulate each of them, I have also discovered and developed my singular style, for which I am eternally grateful to them as teachers, and as storytellers.

 

I write about people. Families, lovers, friends, enemies, passersby and casual acquaintances, they are all connected through their human experience. If you surrender and come with me, you will fall in love. Your heart will soar and your heart will break. You will know joy. You will know pain. You will laugh. You will cry. You will be hunted. You will be the hunter. You will cradle a child to your breast. You will mourn that child. You will know fear and you will know relief. You will see and hear and feel the characters’ experience to the nth degree – but you will also find that nothing has changed when it’s over. You will be safe and sound in your comfy chair ... and if I’ve done my job well, you will remember.

 

But first, you must surrender.