PSST. Hey! Wanna help the SF Bay-area bookstore, Comix Experience? Want to see me and a buncha authors parade around their pets for the purpose of supporting a cool bookstore? OF COURSE YOU DO. Tomorrow, I’m joining a bevy of amazing authors (Charlie Jane Anders, Mallory O’Meara, Seanan McGuire, Mike Chen, Annalee Newitz, Fonda Lee and Meg Elison) to show off my dogs (er, assuming that they are in canine compliance and won’t try to lick the laptop to death).
Author: terribleminds (page 55 of 457)
WORDMONKEY
Thanks to the heroics of former New York City Mayor Tom Cafferty and his team, the world is once again safe. The villainous Foundation for Human Advancement has been dismantled, the cities of the world are safe from nuclear annihilation, and Cafferty is now on a hunt to decimate every nest of creatures on the planet.
When Cafferty enters a nest underneath the Nevada desert, he is horrified to find it completely empty. It can only mean one thing: the battle for survival is not over. Across the planet, creatures are emerging from their subterranean homes. Now, the all-out war against humanity has begun—a war in which only one apex species will survive. Humankind has finally met its match.
Cafferty knows that only one man can help him stop the onslaught. A man who is despised by the world. A man who has already caused the death of millions. A man who is a sworn enemy hell-bent on taking Tom Cafferty down forever: Albert Van Ness.
But even this desperate move may not be enough to stop the creatures and save humanity . . .
***
TRILOGY IS A POWERFUL WORD
Fifteen years ago, when I started writing the short story that eventually evolved into Awakened, I never imagined it would become the sprawling international trilogy that it is now. The first book was a New York-centric thriller, inspired by the action movies and novels that affected me as a kid growing up in Staten Island. But planning and nailing an entire trilogy is a whole lot more difficult.
The sequel The Brink took the story overseas, and by the time we get to Obliteration, we’re following characters in every corner of the globe. To nail down each twist and turn of the plot while staying true to the emotional arcs and backbone of the story, the plan had to be in place long before words hit the page. Mapping out the course of this massive story was one of the most challenging yet most rewarding tasks of my time as an author.
A CO-AUTHOR IS A BLESSING
On a similar note, no book happens alone. This is especially true in the case of the Awakened trilogy.
When my publisher proposed the great idea of pairing me with a co-author, I somehow stumbled upon the devilishly handsome and very British Darren Wearmouth. Our partnership has evolved into a lifelong friendship of collaboration. I can’t express enough gratitude for his steadfast creativity and persistence to make this trilogy as great as we both knew it could be.
I highly recommend finding your Darren. When you’re stuck on a word or a turn of phrase, chances are, your co-author knows the exact right answer.
KILL YOUR FRIENDS (IN THE BOOK)
What’s the point of writing a thriller series about a race of monstrous creatures threatening humanity without killing off a few of your friends?
Over the course of the trilogy, I’ve fictionally murdered a lot of characters inspired by people in my life. And I can tell you honestly: nothing is more satisfying that describing a friend’s brutal death for thousands of people to read.
Is a creature tearing apart an old buddy from high school an honored tribute? Or is it because I’m secretly holding a grudge against them? They’ll never know. Either way, it’s a nice little surprise for them when they get around to reading the book (if those jerks ever do.)
EASTER EGGS BRIGHTEN EVERYONE’S DAY
As every writer knows, some days go smoother than others. Sometimes, you need an extra bit of spice to keep the words from blending together on the computer screen in front of you. For me, easter eggs have been that special seasoning.
Darren and I are lucky enough to have the support of a lot of fans of Impractical Jokers, so anytime we can give them a nod, we try to. In all three books, there are fun little references to fan-favorite episodes and inside jokes that keep the series hyper personal to me. And each time I read them back, they make me smile.
THE ENDING HAS TO BE RIGHT
At the end of the day, when you strip away all of the bloodshed, the atomic bombs, and the decades-long conspiracies, you’re left with the characters. And ideally, those characters are the reason you started writing in the first place. We’ve all probably read a fantastic book where the ending leaves us unsatisfied. To put in all the work of the previous two books and to have Cafferty’s story fall flat was a fate we weren’t willing to accept. Apart from tying together every loose end plot-wise, the emotional side of the ex-Mayor’s story needed to feel full and complete. I probably stared at those last chapters longer than I stared at the deed to my own house. The ending of a trilogy has to be right. It’s true of every story ever told and a lesson that every writer should have buried deep down inside.
***
JAMES S. MURRAY is a writer, executive producer, and actor, best known as “Murr” on the hit television show Impractical Jokers along with his comedy troupe, The Tenderloins. He has worked as the Senior Vice President of Development for NorthSouth Productions for over a decade and is the owner of Impractical Productions, LLC. He recently starred in Impractical Jokers: The Movie, and also appears alongside the rest of The Tenderloins, and Jameela Jamil, in the television series The Misery Index on TBS.
James S. Murray: Twitter | Instagram
Obliteration: Harper Collins
My Twitter account remains locked due to GG-style harassment of me (death threats, doxxing, harassing my followers and repliers) tied to the Internet Archive situation, but those who don’t follow me wouldn’t have seen my recent statements, so I thought it best to put something here, too.
Recently it has come to light that a handful of authors inside science-fiction and fantasy publishing have engaged in various acts of harassment and abuse against women. These authors are authors with which I am friendly, particularly online — Paul Krueger, Myke Cole, Sam Sykes — and I am deeply sorry if that friendliness or if me boosting their work and amplifying their voices has in any way given them cover for their actions or given them unearned trust. I never saw the harassment or abuse in play, but my ignorance of it is not an excuse, and I should be better about actively attempting to make spaces like conventions and conferences safe. Some of the women who were harassed or abused are friends or acquaintances, as well, and that makes me heartsick to realize that I didn’t know or see what they were going through. It’s not enough to simply go along to get along, but rather, to maintain a vigil and to be ever on the lookout for harassment and attempt to call it in when witnessed.
I’ve cut personal and professional ties with these men and will not be signal boosting them further. I’m listening to victims and believe them. The men have apologized but it’s not on me to accept, deny, or judge those apologies.
Once again, a mixed precipitation blogpost coming at you. It’s a little bit rain, a little bit hail, maybe a couple frogs-n-toads tumbling from the heavens. And away we go.
Is there a gentler phrase than ‘Wisconsin Public Radio?’ I’m sure there is, I’m just saying, it just feels like a place where you can, in dulcet tones, talk about various cheeses and the cheesemaking processes that birth them. It conjures a kind of pastoral coffeehouse chat. Regardless, I got to chat with WPR about Wanderers, which is not really as gentle a subject as we might like, given, well, *gestures broadly* all the pandemicness going on outside our door. You can read the article they posted, but that also contains a link to listen to me yammer on about bats and artificial intelligence and Stephen King and such.
The Stephen King thing is definitely a question that comes up a lot. And I always want to be clear that The Stand is a huge inspiration for Wanderers — that and to a different extent, Swan Song. They’re books that feel like they have the scope and cut of epic fantasy but instead of Middle Earth, it’s America, and with the horror aspect dialed way, way up. (Though let’s not pretend fantasy is without its horror. Shelob is horror. The Forsaken in Wheel of Time are agents of horror, often.) Wanderers definitely attempts to grapple with The Stand as a story, and does so in part by acknowledging it directly in the text — it’s a book some of the characters have read. I’d never as an author want to fail to acknowledge that pandemic-sized elephant in the room — a true classic of the genre, a pillar of the subgenre. Wanderers only exists because of The Stand, really.
Speaking of the Quarantimes… most of the counties in our state, including our current county, are green or headed to green, which is “good,” I guess? Mostly reopened? I mean, it’s good in that it means our numbers have remained low, and we’ve (theoretically) earned our green status by not opening prematurely. But I also know that we’re in for another spike, because people assume that GREEN means GONE, and you’ve got a bunch of poopy-pants man-children who won’t wear masks. And they’re talking about opening up schools in the fall and even in green status, I just don’t see how. The virus still exists. We didn’t eradicate it. It’s spiking huge in parts of the country, and it’s not like people can’t come here from there, and… oof, JFC, this is like fire season. Just because you put out that fire doesn’t mean we can’t have more fires. There’s still dry tinder laying around, ready to spark. It’s hard to be optimistic here, but reality is reality, and the virus moves when we move. It’s the equivalent of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who — the moment we blink, the monster comes for us.
There’s a family friend who contracted it toward the beginning. And now he’s got autoimmune encephalitis from it. It essentially changed his personality, left him with terrible neurological symptoms — essentially a kind of high-test dementia. There’s no end game, yet. No treatment has worked. He’s maybe only ten, fifteen years older than I am. I can only say, take this disease seriously. Those it hits may not die, but they’re not always left whole, either. And we’re only a mile down this road and can’t see what survivors are left with in a year, or ten years, health-wise.
It’s officially summer. Is that good? I dunno.
Also, Father’s Day. I am fortunate to have an incredible kiddo. Did a puppet show for me. Drew me a card with an amazing blue dasher dragonfly on it. He helped make dinner. It was good. I planted a buncha plants — we’re really working to put in native plants here, and now we have planted, let’s see, helianthus, asters, bee balm, mountain laurel, viburnum, blueberries, phlox, mountain mint, swamp milkweed, coneflower, and hyssop. A lot of stuff is already blooming, which is great. And we’ve a small garden that’s doing okay. We ate the radishes. We have snap peas and hull peas and green beans growing in. The kale is looking kinda funky. Carrots are looking healthy, but I think they need a couple more weeks before we can do anything. I have random squash growing out of a compost pile.
Need a list of Black-owned bookstores? Yes you do, and here it is.
Trump sucks canker ass, and I’m glad his wretched rally was a pathetic mess trolled by K-pop stans and teenagers. The kids are all right. (Though important to note, they didn’t limit the attendees, since tickets weren’t capped. No, the low attendance was simply a combination of PANDEMIC plus HE SUCKS CANKER ASS.) Either way, get fucked, marmalade hitler.
Starhawks and Rae Sloanes and Aftermaths, oh my. I’m honestly a little bit burned out on anything called “Star Wars” right now, but that Squadrons game trailer tickled me more than a little — nice to see shots of the Nadiri Starhawk and Rae Sloane. (The first of which I came up with for Aftermath, the second of which was gratefully conjured by John Jackson Miller in his Rebels novel and who served as the backbone for the waning Empire in the three Aftermath books.) I’m honestly excited any time you see those ripples cascade out into other books or games or what-have-you.
P.S. I’m still on Twitter vacation. Still locked down, still not visiting much. It’s been nice. I expect that vacation to continue in some form through much of the summer, though again I’ll be here and on Instagram posting pretty photos and what not. And I’ll post photos here, too, like this batch.
*turns around dramatically in chair* OH, HELLO, I didn’t see you there. How’re ya now? Once again I return from the wasteland, emerging from the apocalyptic veldt, with an awkward fusillade of mini-blogs. Less a single boulder catapulted through your castle wall, and more a crate of pebbles dropped unceremoniously upon your head.
First things first, where’s Wendig? I’ve got a series of appearances lined up over the next week or two. I recorded with Slayerfest 98 over the weekend, joining a panel of rad humans to talk about the Season 6 finale of Buffy (“Grave”). Not sure when that lands, but I expect sometime this week. Then, tonight I’m at the Bethlehem Public Library reading from and talking about Wanderers. Tomorrow, I’m at Greenlight Books, talking to Ilze Hugo about apocalyptic fiction (her new novel is The Down Days, also about a pandemic). Finally, next Wednesday I’m chatting with Josh Malerman via the Doylestown Bookshop online. Very excited about all of these, and I hope to see you there.
Why yes, Virginia, Twitter is a Hell Realm. This past weekend was a fucking delight on Twitter, which is to say, apparently I became the poster boy for the publishers suing the Internet Archive due to the IA’s overreach on copyright. I’m guessing it’s because people just don’t like me, because, to reiterate one last time, I had nothing to do with the suit. I didn’t contact my publishers regarding it, I am not named in the suit, I do not control publishers with my mind, and I wasn’t even the only author talking about this thing on Twitter when it happened back in March. I appreciate people think I wield more persuasive power than, say, Neil Gaiman (with 2.8 million followers on Twitter), but I assure you, I do not. Regardless, people have since gone on to doxxing me, threatening me with death, and assorted other standard awfulness. As such, I locked my account and took a weekend off of Twitter and it was very nice, so you can expect that to continue. I’m not deleting the account or anything, but will be considerably more scarce there over the summer. I’d rather devote time and energy to writing this big damn SECRET BOOK I gotta write. I will continue to be here, of course, and you can also find me on The Gram, as it were.
We’ve been watching Letterkenny. That, at the behest of a number of friends (including but not limited to, Delilah Dawson, Kevin Hearne, Rob Schnell), and finally we relented because hey it’s on Hulu, and that’s a Texas-sized 10-4, Big Shooter. It’s a show where I only understand about 80% of what they even say (up from what I’d say was about 50% when we started), but god-dang it’s funny. Ferda!
Other things on the blinky box we have enjoyed? Well, if you’re not watching What We Do In The Shadows, something is wrong with your brain. The movie was amazing and I knew there was no way they could do a TV version that equaled it — and yet, here we are, because it is as good. We’re also watching a lot of cartoons. Craig of the Creek is one of the best toons on TV. Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts is back, and is the best.
Okay, I know, but bear with me. Sonic the Hedgehog wasn’t awful. I know. I know. It looked terrible. He had creepy teeth at one point. It was a whole thing. But somehow, it was actually kinda… fun? Is that okay to admit? It’s not gonna win any awards, and at no point was I moved to tears by it, but it was an hour-and-a-half of mirth. And Jim Carrey plays a curiously sinister Robotnik — I expected him to just be silly, camera-mugging Carrey, but the character was genuinely kind of evil? As evil as you can be for a kid’s movie, I guess.
I’m getting bored with Animal Crossing. The samey-samey comfort of it is wonderful, but also started to feel… well, samey-samey. Rec a new game? Also, I’m starting to feel like my life would be improved if I got back into PC gaming? Would it? Am I wrong? Hm.
I went to a park yesterday. It’s pretty out-of-the-way, a bit wild, not a lot of “facilities,” so it’s mostly just… nature. Which is great, because, ennnh, nobody was there? Okay, a couple people, but all at a distance, and we had masks. Took some pictures, listened to the babbling of brooks and what-not. Ooh, I saw a pair of orioles and their nest. Photos forthcoming later! Soon as they’re processed.
ANYWAY HERE IS A PHOTO
HELLO, FRANDOS. I haven’t popped by here much over the last couple weeks because — well, there was a lot of important stuff going on with the protests over George Floyd’s death, and I just didn’t want to mist everyone with whatever aerosolized sewage you’d get from me, and further, I was on deadline finishing a book (Dust & Grim, the MG novel). That said, though I hope my stand on all this is clear, I support Black Lives Matter, I support the protests, I support defunding the police. Black Americans live a life entirely separate from white Americans in terms of their interactions with not just the police, but every dominant socio-cultural system. These are egregious faults which must be corrected and that currently stack to protect white privilege. As the saying goes, it is not enough to merely be not racist, but we must be anti-racist. If you’re white, you’re probably racist, and I believe it’s best to operate from that standpoint — no, I’m not suggesting you’re actively racist, seeking to do harm, but rather I’m saying that you have long benefitted from a system of bonuses and bennies exclusively for white people, and the very air around us is culturally suffused with a whole lotta racism, and we breathe it in, and we swim in it, and we unconsciously take some of it in and it is on us to recognize that, see that it is wrong, and do our best to untangle those nasty hidden knots inside us.
Further, given that J.K. Rowling has really chosen this moment to roll around in a mud-puddle of her own dead empathy, while again I’d hope my viewpoint here is known, I find no harm in reminding and restating: trans women are women, trans men are men, non-binary individuals are whatever gender expression they are, as well — and we must commit not just to these simple statements, but to undoing all the systemic prejudices that exist against our transgender and non-binary friends, whether in health care or safety or education or careers or — well, it’s a list that covers all aspects of daily life. As a call to action, here are some links you might click that will help you part with some essential donations:
Links to support black trans organizations.
AND with these things, remember that this is not a fight du jour, but rather, one that is ongoing in both our culture and inside your own damn heart and mind. So keep the vigil, hold the line. Okay?
Okay!
All that being said, usually I was calling these random scattershot blog posts DISJECTA MEMBRA, which is awful dang fancy and ooh-la-la, but honestly, it’s far too high-minded for the kind of word-hurk I’m chunking up, so instead I’m going with gabbling into the void. So, here we are, gabbling into the void once more. A blog post turned to viscera and slopped upon your information plate.
Some of you are still missing your FIYAH subscriptions. We were giving away 15 and only six (!) people have gotten back to me, so check the replies, see if you won. Go here, check the replies, and see if you won. Then contact me!
I saw a fox this morning. And a pileated woodpecker. Though I’m no longer writing in the woods as I once was, it’s nice to still be surrounded by a good bit of nature. Nature is soothing. Not that nature’s job is to soothe me, obviously, but I AM SOOTHED JUST THE SAME. The loud rappa-tap of the woodpecker’s beak. The gentle bounding of a fox. The soft squirrel I use as a loofa. What? Shut up. Squirrel Loofas are totally the big thing. Also the name of my new band.
School is now over for the not-so-tiny human. That’s both amazing, because school for the last couple months was… more like half-school, through no fault of anybody, it’s just circumstances. But it took a lot of work to schedule all that stuff, and effectively, everything became homework. Because school was home and home was school. And it necessitated a lot of work on our parts, too because though we weren’t teachers… we totally had to be teachers. (My wife far more than me, to be clear.) So! Summer is welcome, but with it comes the new challenge of OH GOD WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW. The days are long and the time is weird and we can’t just go on vacation or really even do most of the things we’d do. Sure, our county here in PA has gone from red to yellow (and maybe soon to green), but the virus didn’t go away, and we’re seeing a second surge rise — it could go poorly quickly, and blergh. So, now we have to supply structure for the summer, somehow. In some way. In a way that isn’t forced and is also fun. Maybe we just plug our son into a VR simulator and occasionally spoon-feed him nutrients? That can work, I’m sure. Bonus, he can power our home with his human energy! This is a very original idea and nobody has ever had it before and nothing can go wrong.
Just a casual reminder that COVID-19 is still serious shit. We’ve friends who have had it for weeks, even months, with lingering symptoms. One friend of the family had it, recovered, then developed bizarre personality-changing neurological symptoms that have only worsened — finally they figured out it was autoimmune encephalitis, likely a result of the virus. Neurological symptoms can persist and… we don’t know if everyone comes out the other side unscathed. Death isn’t the only thing this does. Take it seriously. Wear a fucking mask, embrace social distancing, stay frosty.
I’m still on my bread bullshit. I’ve had some spectacular failures. I had one loaf of sourdough taste so vinegary, you’d think you were drinking pickle juice. I had one sandwich loaf come out like a brick, a goddamn brick. (It tasted good, at least.) One was too tough, and from it I made bread pudding that was great. Been trying to make sandwich bread and finally, finally did so, with spectacular result:
There are good cartoons and you should watch them. First, Avatar: The Last Airbender is on Netflix again. HBO Max has the Ghibli films. Craig of the Creek is killing it this year. Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts is back… this week I think? There’s gonna be a We Bare Bears movie at the end of this month. All fun, funny storytelling at the top of its game. Good with kids or without, I’d wager.
AAAAANYWAY, here are some photos. Bye.
