Apple-Obsessed Author Fella
WORDMONKEY
Today, a bit of pick-your-own.
(Or, if you prefer to randomize, go for it.)
You have, mmm, let’s say 1500 words for this one. Any genre will do.
Due next Friday, July 1st, noon EST.
Your five story seeds:
1.) A child is born under mysterious circumstances.
2.) A dead body goes missing.
3.) A mysterious journal is found.
4.) An accident occurs that may be no accident.
5.) An impossible animal appears.
[art by Hal Hefner]
To my friends in the UK:
I buy you a pint.
I give hugs.
I offer a couch to those who need to crash in a different country for a while.
To my friends here in the US:
I don’t pretend to entirely understand what just happened in the UK. For that, I’d point you toward Charlie Stross and Lee Harris, who both wrote on Brexit today. I do get the general sense that we are looking at a situation where bloviating dickheads used bluster and lies to dominate media cycles in order to spread easy-to-swallow misinformation and lead the country toward a nasty disentanglement from the EU — which has already kicked the UK economy right in the spotted dick. At present, I’m told the British pound is worth less than a foil-covered chocolate coin. You’d need a sack of them just to start a game of Galaga.
And the wind blowing from London right now is like a threat over all of us — a song of prophecy and rot carried on the growing breeze. We have our own bloviators here, and of course we have King Bloviator himself, Donald Trump the Drumpflord, who says little and lies a lot and knows next to nothing and it matters little. He continues to do his smug yelly-smelly thing where he bleats whatever he has to bleat in order to convince us to reclaim our identity as AMERICA, as if our national identity is something he can control or claim for himself. MAKE AMERICA GREAT. BRITAIN FIRST. DEUTSCHLAND ERWACHE.
Trump is of course an attention-seeking, tantrum-throwing human one-star-Yelp-review who has less devotion to truth and sanity than your average Kindergartener. And we think, ah ha ha, he can’t win. He can’t. He’s just too absurd. It’s a show — a shit-show, admittedly, but it’s all a con, a reality program, a donkeyfucking performance of the lowest order, and soon he’ll bow out or poop the bed or run out of money and that’ll be that. And yet, he clings like a tick. So many of his businesses have failed he should no longer be allowed to run a single business, and yet, he does. He shouldn’t have won the primaries, and yet, he did. Warnings upon warnings come our way. Darkness crawls from Mordor. Long shadows cast by the black gaze of Sauron himself. The orcs are on the March. The world shudders.
I’m blowing the horn of Gondor, folks. I’m lightning the warning beacons.
This is how you get Trump.
The same way you get Brexit, I fear.
You get a media more interested in entertainment and controversy than in news.
You get politicians who come in and dominate that format — because they are better at the circus.
You get xenophobes and fear-mongers working off one another.
You get people willing to vote against stability, fed on the fantasy that they will somehow get to reclaim their country and keep the enemies at the gate all while creating a REVOLUTION.
Never mind that it’s a lie.
It’s an illusion — or a delusion — ginned up by people who are very good at telling you exactly what you want to hear and have no interest in telling you what you need to hear.
What I’m saying is: America, get your head on straight, and while you’re at it, screw it on real tight. It’s going to be a long and stupid election cycle. Longer and stupider than it’s already been. Turbulence is ahead but we must not let Donald Trump take the White House. Better yet, we need to vote out the obstructionists in Congress who have no interest in compromise and every interest in ideological posturing. Vote. Vote! Yes, yes, blah blah blah, lesser of two evils. Listen, first, I don’t agree that we’re in that situation — I like and support Hillary Clinton, I’m glad she’s our nominee, and I think she’ll do a dutiful and crafty job as president. But at this point, even if you think this is a contest of two lesser evils — well, I’d submit that a punch to the gut is better than BEING REPEATEDLY DUNKED IN A TANK OF ANGRY, SPHINCTER-SEEKING SCORPIONS. Before voting for Donald Trump I would vote for a mason jar decorated with googly eyes and filled to the brim with my own urine.
Vote. And it’s not just you that needs to vote, is it? Drag everyone you know to vote. Demand participation in this democracy of ours. Trump’s people? They’re gonna vote. They’re invested. They bought their tickets to the circus. You need to vote, too. Buy the ticket. Take the ride. Keep America from trickling down through the sewer grate.
Vote this election.
Vote next election.
Vote, vote, vote, vote, VOTE.
And do not vote for Donald Trump. Unless you want to tank our economy. Unless you want the Orc Horde of Mordor to run rampant over the country you claim should be ‘great’ again.
(Related: Bernie will vote for Hillary in November.)
Some quick newsybits (that stay crunchy in milk):
Zer0es is $2.99 right now for your Kindle. No idea how long or why, but there it is! TELL EVERYONE. YOUR FRIENDS. YOUR FAMILY. YOUR POMERANIAN. YOUR PANDA. EVERY. ONE.
The Force Awakens, issue #1, is now out — written by me, drawn by Luke Ross.
StarWars.com interviews me about that very subject!
I talk about Star Wars and Hyperion and The Shield and other stuff at Panels.net!
And finally, the image at the fore of this post is the cover to The Force Awakens #4 — and it’s now been announced (so I can say it here) that the series has gone from five issues to six. Woo!
In the not-so-distant future, economic inequality and persistent surveillance push Oakland to the brink of civil war.
Lilly Miyamoto is a passionate analog photographer striving to pursue an ever more distant dream. Huian Li is preeminent among the Silicon Valley elite as the founder and CEO of the pervasive tech giant Cumulus. Graham Chandler is a frustrated intelligence agent forging a new path through the halls of techno-utopian royalty. But when Huian rescues Lilly from a run-in with private security forces, it sets off a chain of events that will change their lives and the world.
The adventure accelerates into a mad dash of political intrigue, relentless ambition, and questionable salvation. Will they survive to find themselves and mend a broken system?
I’ve had a weird month. Cumulus came out on May 5th. Within 24 hours of release, it hit front page Reddit, became the #1 cyberpunk bestseller on Amazon, raised thousands of dollars for the Electronic Frontier Foundation and Chapter 510, and generated a dozen separate inbound literary/film/tv rights inquiries from major agencies and production companies. William Gibson called me two days later to talk about the book, and I went into a fanboy coma. Google invited me to come give a talk. Esteemed folks like Tim O’Reilly, David Brin, Ramez Naam, and Cory Doctorow among others have shared or said nice things about it.
I know what you’re thinking. This douchebag probably has a big shiny advance, a publicist in a bespoke suit, and a horde of evil marketing monkeys doing his bidding. What can’t you accomplish with a monkey army at your command? How many bananas do they consume per day? Do they demand organic bananas, or are they cool with the regular kind? But here’s where it gets goofy. I self published Cumulus. To my eternal disappointment, there are no monkeys (or fancy publicists, etc.). Just like with my previous novels, I sent out a few advance copies, pinged my reader mailing list, harassed people on social media for a day, and pressed publish. I was more shocked than anyone when it went viral. Since then, I’ve been trying to hang on for dear life. Internet buzz is fleeting. Ultimately, the only thing that matters is whether the story resonates with readers. In the meantime, I will continue to do my very best to follow the sage advice of this blog’s estimable proprietor:
Be the best writer you can be. Online, be the best version of yourself. Have fun, be kind, work hard, have empathy, and hope for luck.
— Chuck Wendig (@ChuckWendig) April 6, 2016
JUST KEEP SWIMMING.
Last weekend, I climbed Mt. Shasta with my wife and two of our friends. It was one of the hardest things any of us had ever done. We spent months training, going on endless hikes with serious elevation gain carrying backpacks stuffed with books and water bottles. For the ascent to the summit, we donned our crampons, roped in, hefted our ice axes, flicked on our headlamps, and set off from base camp at 3AM. That’s when the altitude sickness kicked in. I was seeing stars, overwhelmed by nausea, and dizzily stumbling along the edges of thousand foot cliffs. I could only focus on putting one step in front of the other as we climbed the gulches, faces, and ridge lines to the top. Eventually, I had to call it 100 feet below the summit (~14k feet up), lest I endanger myself or the rest of our team. Luckily, my wife and friends reached the tippety top and wrote a note in the guest book. Then we marched right back down, glissading most of the way (glissade is a fancy verb for sliding on your butt). Beer has never tasted as good as our first pint back in town.
The entire experience felt a whole lot like writing a book. Adversity is part of what makes life beautiful. Focus. Put one word after another. Enjoy the view. Repeat.
When my first book came out in 2014, I was totally and completely obnoxious about it. I posted a constant stream of updates to Twitter and Facebook, cold emailed a countless bloggers, and basically wouldn’t STFU. But we don’t discover new gems because jewelers are shouting from the rooftops. I read dozens of books a year, and I’ve never bought a novel because the author was screaming down the interwebz at me like a gorilla with a megaphone. I find new books just like we all do, usually through a recommendation from a trusted friend.
Now that my fourth novel is out in the wild, I’ve reined myself in and try to let fans do the talking. It’s also changed how I think about how writers engage with readers. Write something you love and hope that others share your taste. Be nice. Be helpful. Be yourself. We all have our favorite books, movies, bands, and art. Sharing your enthusiasm for stories you love is the best way to attract the enthusiasm of others to the stories you craft. Give your favorite artist a high five, and then get back to work making something wonderful.
Two weeks ago, there was a drive-by shooting 40 feet behind my wife and I as we were walking home from our neighborhood BART station. It was broad daylight on a busy sidewalk in a residential area. We dodged behind the nearest brick wall just as a door in said wall swung open.
“Were those shots?” asked the worried face peering out around the doorjamb.
“Yes,” we responded breathlessly, hearts in our throats.
“Do you want to come inside to wait it out?”
“Yes, please.”
Welcome to Oakland, where friendly strangers save you from the not-so-friendly variety. Right now, my hometown feels like a microcosm of many of the issues facing our nation. New art studios, restaurants, dog parks, and breweries are popping up everywhere. There are places to forge your own broadsword and study the intricacies of evolving federal cannabis legislation. Nonprofits are planting trees in blighted areas and teaching underserved kids to read. Technology companies are fueling an economic boom and promising utopian dividends for the community. But at the same time, Oakland struggles with endemic social problems. We had a triple homicide on our block last year, the same block that neighborhood kids zip up-and-down on tricycles nearly every day. Gang violence is a perennial challenge and we often fall asleep to the sound of gunshots. Too few children have access to educational and professional opportunities. The City is in a permanent budget crisis. Racism and poverty seem to erode every attempt at progress. We are tearing ourselves apart in the middle of a renaissance. I realized there was a story here. A story that lies at the uncomfortable intersection of present problems and future promises. A story that wrestles with some of these questions, and keeps pages turning at an energetic clip.
When you’re rooting around for an idea, don’t be afraid to be ambitious or to explore your own backyard.
William Gibson shared some advice on that phone call. First, never do a multibook deal. Second, don’t buy the big house. Sound counsel, although I was bummed that sinister monkeys weren’t somehow involved. He also said that many of his most successful writer friends are distinguished by the fact that they KEEP WRITING, rather than getting distracted by side projects or celebrity. The week before Cumulus came out, I finished the rough draft of my next novel. It’s currently in editorial and I’m gearing up to dive into a new story. Writing is the ultimate democratic artform. If you’re reading this post, you’ve probably written an email. If you’ve written an email, you can write a book. It might not be the Next Great American Novel, but it would be yours. If you’ve written a book, you can write a better one. If you’ve written a better one, then please don’t stop because I want to read everything you dream up. When it comes to storytelling, we are the only things standing in our way.
* * *
Eliot Peper is a novelist and strategist based in Oakland, CA. He writes fast-paced, deeply-researched stories with diverse casts that explore the intersection of technology and society. His first three books constitute The Uncommon Series, which has attracted a cult following in Silicon Valley and is the #1 top-rated financial thriller on Amazon (think Panama Papers). He is currently working on his fifth novel, Neon Fever Dream, about a dark secret hidden at Burning Man. He’s helped build numerous technology businesses, survived dengue fever, translated Virgil’s Aeneid from the original Latin, worked as an entrepreneur-in-residence at a venture capital firm, and explored the ancient Himalayan kingdom of Mustang.
For three years, Detective Jude Fontaine was kept from the outside world. Held in an underground cell, her only contact was with her sadistic captor, and reading his face was her entire existence. Learning his every line, every movement, and every flicker of thought is what kept her alive.
After her experience with isolation and torture, she is left with a fierce desire for justice—and a heightened ability to interpret the body language of both the living and the dead. Despite colleagues’ doubts about her mental state, she resumes her role at Homicide. Her new partner, Detective Uriah Ashby, doesn’t trust her sanity, and he has a story of his own he’d rather keep hidden. But a killer is on the loose, murdering young women, so the detectives have no choice: they must work together to catch the madman before he strikes again. And no one knows madmen like Jude Fontaine.
* * *
I actually learned this before writing The Body Reader, but bear with me because it does come into play again. Over the past thirty years I’ve written in almost every genre out there. One of the only ones missing from my résumé was science fiction, so when I received an exclusive invite to be part of a new mind-blowing enterprise for post-apocalyptic fiction, I jumped at the chance to dilute my brand even more.
I need a tattoo of the above. Several years ago I was the launch author for a new publishing house called Quartet Press. My book was edited and formatted, the cover designed. I’d begun online promotion when I got the email announcing the plug had been pulled on Quartet Press. At that point I promised myself I’d never get involved in another startup. So when I was invited to be a part of the post-apocalyptic project, I jumped in with both feet. I had 25,000 words of a 40,000-word story done when that startup crashed and burned.
I thought it would be easy to remove the post-apocalyptic from The Body Reader. I’d at least set my tale in a present-day city. The main characters were detectives, people were being murdered, crimes investigated. There were dysfunctional families and broken heroes; it was a dark story. All I had to do was remove the post-apocalyptic stuff and get back on track to straight crime fiction, my genre. I didn’t fully understand that genre tone is deeply embedded in the writing, and this story oozed post-apocalyptic tone. An easy switch was impossible. Nothing worked. In the end, only 5,000 words survived.
Even though I would never attempt switching the genre of a story again, I think the ghost of the original post-apocalyptic tale gives my straight crime fiction a slightly skewed feel that I like.
Over the last several years I’ve allowed myself to be tempted and distracted by all different kinds of projects that have nothing to do with what I consider my real career, which is crime fiction. I’ve written memoirs. I’ve written romance with a cat’s POV. I’ve written short stories about vampires and zombies and mermen and babies who write books while still in the womb. Some were things I felt compelled to do, such as the memoirs. Some were things that offered a fun distraction from my real job—writing crime fiction. All of those unrelated projects confused my core crime-fiction readers, so my plan going forward is no startups, no distractions and no temptations. Stick to my genre. So if you have a startup in need of someone to write a story about a two-headed naked mole rat that saves the world, let’s talk.
* * *
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Anne Frasier has written twenty-five books that range through genres such as thriller, mystery, romantic suspense, paranormal, suspense, and memoir. Writing as Theresa Weir, she began her career in 1998 with Amazon Lily, a cult sensation and winner of multiple awards.
She has won the Daphne du Maurier Award for paranormal romance, and a RITA for romantic suspense. Her first memoir, The Orchard (Theresa Weir), was a 2011 O, the Oprah Magazine Fall Pick; #2; on the Indie Next List; and a Librarians’ Best Book of 2011. Her latest novel, The Body Reader, is out from Thomas & Mercer on June 21, 2016.
Today, Mashable drops a pretty big Life Debt excerpt. Go read it! It features Leia! And her baby! And the Force! And Luke! AND EWOKS.
(No, really.)
Some things you should know about the excerpt —
First, despite what the post says, I don’t consider Han and Chewie to be the “main focus” of the book. They are a focus, and are important to the story. So is Leia. So is the crew from the first Aftermath. SO IS RAE SLOANE AND MISTER BONES AND ahhhhh eeee wooo. Ahem. What I’m saying is, check your expectations and don’t go thinking this is a Han-and-Chewie adventure from the first to last page.
Second, this is not an interlude.
Third, the excerpt loses some formatting. In the book, it contains italics to identify and separate Leia’s thoughts, and honestly, I consider that formatting vital — it reads harder without it.
Fourth, I love this excerpt. I adored writing it. I still adore it now that I’m reading it again.
I hope you like it.
