Apple-Obsessed Author Fella

Category: The Ramble (page 172 of 463)

Yammerings and Babblings

Macro Monday May Contain Spiders

I warned you.

This post is going to be filled with spiders.

I know! I know. Some of you are arachnophobic, and the last thing I want to do is plunge you into a SPIDER FEAR SPIRAL because as a human skin stuffed with tarantulas, I’m sensitive to the fear.

But, just the same — I LOVE SPIDERS. Spiders are so cool! They eat bad bugs! They form pretty webs! They hunt and wait and predate. They almost never bite (unless you’re like, poking one in the face with your finger). Some, like jumping spiders, are even kinda cute. Whenever I see a spider in the house, I do my level best to rescue said spider and release her into the wild again.

So, this post will be filled with spiders.

But, I’ll give you some space between NOW and THEN, so you have some time to either prepare, or to close this post and to burn your computer with cleansing fire.

Is there any news I can get out of the way? Lessee.

Zer0es is still $2.99 for reasons unknown.

If you liked Zer0es, then I might suggest Invasive is a thing you maybe wanna pre-order. It takes place in the same universe and is set after the events of Zer0es — but, it’s a new story with new characters (though a few show up again). Why pre-order? Pre-ordering helps the writer, it helps the publisher, it helps you ensure you get the book in a timely fashion. It sends a signal through the PUBLISHING ECOSYSTEM that THIS AUTHOR IS DESIRABLE PLEASE CARRY THIS BOOK AND OTHERS AND ALSO GIVE THE AUTHOR A BAG OF MONEY ON THE BACK OF A GIANT CHOCOLATE PONY PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

I will be at SDCC but do not have my schedule confirmed as yet.

Did you see the Hyperion #4 preview? Well? DID YOU.

And finally, hey, I am now on the advisory board for AbleGamers.

All right.

I’m out of news.

It’s almost time for the spiders.

But first, I will give you a picture of a dog who has clearly eaten dirt and just doesn’t care.

Know, though, that after this adorable dog photo comes a cascade of spider photos.

KNOW THIS.

First: dog photo —

Now, spider photos.

First up, one of my favorites — a crab spider who looks like he’s floating through space, an ARACHNOSHIP sent on a journey to liberate his spider-people or something.

Okay, then: AAHHHH TELL ME HE IS NOT ADORABLE. Goddamnit jumping spiders are cute as fuck. Those big eyes! That innocent surprise! Never mind the fact that the jumping spider is a surprising effective hunter — who cares? So. Damn. Kewt. Am I right? I’m right.

Then: cellar spider. So diaphanous. So ethereal. So wispy.

Next up: SKULL SPIDER, MOTHERFUCKER. Okay, there is no such thing as a skull spider, I’m pretty sure, and this is really just a common house spider, I believe. Also, though, SKULLSPIDER will be the name of my metal band. Or maybe just SKULLDER.

Here: an orchard spider spinning a web!

Finally: one of my favorite shots of all time. SPIDER MAMA sits atop a throne made of her own egg, where she diligently guards her brood. Bad-ass motherly love right there, folks.

THERE.

The spiders have ended.

I have more spider photos, I do.

But I’ll wait.

Like a spider.

Flash Fiction Challenge: Five Random Story Seeds

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.

You Want Trump? This Is How You Get Trump.

[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.)

Quickly Now! To The Newsmachine!

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!

Eliot Peper: Five Things I Learned Self-Publishing My Novel, Cumulus

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?

THE INTERNET GIVETH, AND THE INTERNET TAKETH AWAY.

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:

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.

ACT LIKE A PERSON, NOT AN INFOMERCIAL.

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.

GO BIG, AND GO HOME.

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.

NO MATTER WHAT, KEEP WRITING.

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.

Eliot Peper: Twitter | Website

Cumulus: Amazon | iTunes