Category: The Ramble (page 9 of 455)

This is a silly post and nobody should care about it, least of all me, but sometimes things enter my head and knock around like a poltergeist instead of simply passing on through. And the only way to, well, exorcise these thoughts is to purge them somehow.

Thank the gods I have This Old Thing, this —

*lifts up website, squints at the word etched into its underneath*

— this blog.

I have Ghostbusters thoughts.

I mean, really, they’re story thoughts, mostly, but it comes via the conduit of the most recent Ghostbusters flick, and ostensibly, all the Ghostbuster flicks before them.

[note, below contains some mild spoilers, though honestly nothing I didn’t already know going into the movie, but please stay frosty]

[get it, frosty]

[because frozen empire]

[whatever]

I saw the new Ghostbusters movie, which is essentially the old Ghostbusters movie, in that there are Ghostbusters who live in a decrepit NYC firehouse fighting ghosts with hand-held nuclear weapons, and there’s some kind of ancient ghost god, and there’s also animated stone monument, and there’s marshmallow people, and there’s a coming apocalypse, and there’s ghosts getting loose from the ghost containment unit, and there’s a Keymaster guy except it’s fire and not portals, and there’s literally the same dickless guy trying to shut them down, aaaaaand it’s barely even a remix of the first movie and honestly, it’s fine. It’s aggressively fine. Again, your mileage may absolutely vary here but, I had a good time, not a great time, and it left minimal impression upon me, merely sliding off my brain like a fried egg off a non-stick pan. The jokes only half-landed. The action was sometimes thrilling, sometimes enervating. It was fine. It was a movie that happened and that I saw. Pretty much… the end.

(Special note must go toward the fact the best people in the movie are the stand-up comedians: Patton Oswalt, Kumail Nanjiani, James Acaster.)

That said, it did make me Think Some Things about storytelling in this current era, and I thought, what better use for this raggedy old blog than to opine fruitlessly upon those things.

The first thing, and arguably the biggest thing, is that I think nostalgia is a poison. It’s a nice poison! A sweet poison. Like a sugary tiki drink. The sugar isn’t good for you, the alcohol isn’t good for you, and it makes you feel nice for a time while it’s trying (and probably failing unless you drank 20) to kill you. It’s there for the slow death, the long con.

I think nostalgia is not great because generally it relies on some likely incorrect or at least incomplete, hazy veneer, rose-tinted glasses view of things that would simply be better off if we simply shut it in a drawer. You can pull it out of the drawer once in a while to look at it — okay, totally fine! But pack it away. It’s done. Move on. Nostalgia is about memory, about remembering — it should be passive, not active.

Problem is, capitalism has weaponized nostalgia. (Politics has, as well. I mean, MAGA? C’mon.) In terms of storytelling, though, capitalism gladly slithers together with nostalgia, the two coupling wetly, popping out their half-formed story babies. It doesn’t keep the nostalgia in a drawer. It refuses to let a thing simply be what it was, a memory of “better” times — no no, it must be pulled back out, waved around, given a new paint job, and of course, given a price tag. Nostalgia isn’t just nostalgia, now. Nostalgia is a product, a service, a gland you can stroke and milk for that glorious hit of nostalgia juice, all at a premium price. And when I say this, I obviously am making it sound like a Very Bad Thing, but at the same time…

You know, I’m a sucker for it, too. I went to see the Ghostbusters movie. I gave them money, even though it was like, four thousand dollars to see the thing on IMAX and endure 12 (!) minutes of non-movie commercials and 12 (!) more minutes of trailers before a movie actually started. And it’s not even always all bad! Dune and Dune 2 aren’t really relying on nostalgia, per se, but are still both… rehashes of books and movies and miniseries that came before. The new Alien movie, Romulus, looks like it’s going to scare the absolute piss out of me, and I look forward to that. Barbie was great, and I saw it, and yet, it’s based on a toy and exists in part because it’s trying to capitalize on your nostalgia and knowledge about that toy. Am I going to see the new Godzilla Kong movie, even though there has been endless iterations of each and it’s probably not even going to be great? I mean, I guess? Part of me would almost rather not at this point? But… ennh?

(Note: have not seen Godzilla Minus One yet, but totally want to, really bad. Heard it’s great. Nostalgia or not. Shut up.)

This is such a basic-ass plebian cry, I know, but it would be great if we got something new for once. Just entirely new! It can be a remix of stuff, it can be inspired by other things, but a lot of the material we continue to reiterate was actually new once, and how great is that? And here is where someone correctly notes that we are getting new things, smaller movies like Love Lies Bleeding (which is apparently great, and maybe even revolutionary, and I’ll see it soon as I’m able), and yes, absolutely, and we should endeavor to see those movies and tell everyone about them.

But I’m talking like, pop culture geek nerd shit, sci-fi stuff, fantasy stuff, action stuff. (Note, I’m not including horror in here, because damn, horror actually seems to go for it as often as not.) Here someone will surely note that there are movies out on streaming that definitely break this cycle and do new things but… I wish they were stickier, and overall, better?

Like, Marvel managed to speed up the nostalgic human centipede cycle, right? It made us feel nostalgia for shit we just saw. Like, “whoa, a Captain America cameo in this movie, I’m fond of him and missed him for those fifteen minutes when he was not on my screen.” The machine keeps churning and pushing the content so fast that I think it’s why we’re burning out on Marvel and, potentially, superhero shit in general. You don’t even have time to digest the one thing before it’s cramming more into your open maw.

All right, I’m even boring myself with this take. I’d just love to have some new shit is all. TV is a pretty good place to find the new shit, to be fair, so that’s great. As are books! Yay books! We like books! More books for the book god! But I just feel like all the big movies my kid’s gonna grow up with are… really just the same shit I grew up with, aggressively rebranded (but not too much) and aggressively marketed and treated like it’s mythology and folklore rather than just, y’know, capitalism at work, filling up all the empty spaces at the box office with the next Godzilla John Wick Spider-Man Villain Mad Max Spinoff Beetlejuice Ape Kingdom Garfield Crowfield Beverly Hills Quiet Place Despicable Deadpool Star Wars ahhhhhhhHHHHHh.

Ahhhh.

Ahh.

Yeah.

Anyway.

It’s fine, just ignore the Old Man Yelling At Nostalgia. I’m even boring myself at this point.

Okay, what else?

(more spoilers inbound, BIG ONES THIS TIME, fyi)

(no for real)

(spoiler spoiler spoilers)

a) in Ghostbusters why are there weird non-human ghosts, like there are dragons and weird gremlin things and shit, but then there are also very human-looking ghosts, they never take time to explain any of this wtf

b) I wonder if the new movie is set somehow in an alternate timeline where the city pays them to be ghostbusters, because nobody is paying them but they’re not starving to death, and NYC is seriously fucking expensive, and yet they seem able to follow their bliss of *checks notes* destroying half the city to trap mostly harmless ghosts

c) as you grow up you realize that the guy who wants to shut them down is totally right, what the fuck are these unregulated spectral janitors doing, stop fucking around with GHOSTS and cramming them into that BOX, yes obviously this is very bad, a child could tell you this is bad, what the shit, do we hate government that much that we really don’t want someone to regulate the dudes with portable nuclear weapons shooting lasers at wraiths

d) listen did that movie totally just queerbait everyone, like, there was a romance between Phoebe and the pyro ghost girl, right, that they just decided to lean away from instead of into? that was a thing, right?

e) you know how Carrie Fisher used to be quietly renowned for “punching up” scripts that needed it? this flick needed Carrie Fisher rill bad

f) you saw all the big stuff in the preview

g) I liked Afterlife a lot and found it more filmic, whereas this felt more like… TV, if that makes any sense?

i) why am I still talking about ghostbusters?

h) technically h comes before i, oops

j) I could’ve used some frozen empire in my Frozen Empire

k) the Monster Villain is cool looking but literally has no motivation beyond Monster Villain, there’s just nothing there, absolute zero

l) the movie wastes so many of its characters, chief among them Lucky, played by Celeste O’Connor, she’s just… she’s just a tokenized non-entity?

m) the villain’s entire plan relies on Phoebe using a device that isn’t meant for humans that seems like it could hurt her and that nobody knows could work on people so it’s one of those weird villain plans that is essentially impossible without a series of intense coincidences paired with absolutely inane character decisions

n) I may be talking myself into disliking this movie, oh shit

o) quick quick uhhh some things I liked: loved the guy’s hand breaking off and still turning the phonograph handle; loved Zeddemore getting some prime time; loved the sort of Institute-level version of the Ghostbusters; McKenna Grace is really great in it; liked Fire Girl though again why are some ghosts Fire Girl and some are Slimer and some are uhhh a sewer dragon; the Gary-Called-Dad beat was the one emotional beat in the movie that hit me like a fist to my heart; when the movie gets really weird it really works, like the weirder it chooses to be, the better it becomes; actually, Ray’s emotional beats kinda work too, like this is what the dude loves and he’s all in, which makes me think he probably should’ve been a character who sacrifices himself for this job because honestly, that’s how Ray needs to go out; also I’d watch a whole movie about Nadeem’s grandmother

p) oh my god why am I still writing this post

q) oh my god why are you still reading this post

r) am I the only one who needs to recite the entire alphabet to remember what order the letters are in, don’t answer this, I’ll just pretend you all do it and I’m not a weirdo

342) fuck it I’m switching to numbers

343) okay I know it’s based on pre-existing material, but FALL GUY looks like a lot of fun, and there’s nothing wrong with fun, oh and no, this has nothing to do with Ghostbusters, I’m sorry

344) why are the mini-puft marshmallows

345) does trevor even do anything in the movie

346) you guys remember that time Ray got oral sex from a ghost, what the fuck was that shit

347) I’m going to stop now before I go mad, anyway, the movie is fine, nostalgia is weird, stories are hard, a lot of scripts could use a hefty dose of punching up by talented puncher-uppers, and I’m tired now

666) buy my books please or I die, the end

Two years after a devastating defeat in the decade-long Spore War, the island nation of Hōppon and its capital city of Neo Kinoko are occupied by invading Coprinian forces. Its fungal citizens are in dire straits, wracked by food shortages, poverty and an influx of war refugees. Even worse, the corrupt occupiers exploit their power, hounding the native population.

As a winter storm looms over the metropolis, NKPD homicide detective Henrietta Hofmann begrudgingly partners up with mushroom-headed patrol officer Koji Nameko to investigate the mysterious murders of fungal and half-breed children. Their investigation drags them deep into the seedy underbelly of a war-torn city, one brimming with colonizers, criminal gangs, racial division and moral decay.

In order to solve the case and unravel the truth, Hofmann must challenge her past and embrace fungal ways. What she and Nameko uncover in the midst of this frigid wasteland will chill them to the core, but will they make it through the storm alive?

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Writing and self-publishing a novel is no small feat (especially a debut). The whole process is constant trial-by-fire, and, oddly enough, those are experiences I began to embrace. The good, the bad, and the ugly—all of it has taught me valuable lessons. For me, learning is one of the best parts of life, so, here are five things I learned writing Mushroom Blues:

Fungi are the coolest (and weirdest) organisms on the planet

I’ve been obsessed with mushrooms for much of my life, ever since I roamed the temperate rainforests of British Columbia as a kid. But as I’ve gotten older, my research into fungi has brought myriad insane facts to my attention. For example, the ways that mycelium and tree roots coexist in mutualistic mycorrhizal relationships, where they exchange vital nutrients and permit communication between plants (think a chemical-based information highway). Forests as we know them wouldn’t exist without the role fungi play as connectors, communicators, and decomposers. Mushrooms are also more genetically related to humans than they are plants—they breathe in oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide, after all. Even weirder, the primary building material that makes up mushrooms is chitin, the same polymer that forms the exoskeletons of crustaceans and insects. Simply put, fungi are freakin’ cool and so very strange.

All of this contributed to my decision to write a fictional world inhabited not just by humans, but by fungal people. Their society, culture, architecture, communication, and more all center around fungi—even their human-like biology is symbiotically interconnected with fungi. As a result, the very story of Mushroom Blues is tightly interwoven with mycelium, mushrooms, and mold, so much so that its foundations would crumble without them.

Self-publishing is harder than it seems

Many authors I’ve spoken to over the years have gone the traditional publishing route because self-publishing seems daunting—there’s too much information and there are too many hats to wear. Well, in some ways, they’re right. The stigma toward self-publishing is wearing off, but the reality is, the indie route does involve a lot of research, a ton of entrepreneurial multi-tasking, a good deal of financial investment, and plenty of fucking up.

Leading up to the release of Mushroom Blues, I realized that no matter what anyone told me—no matter the vast quantities of helpful advice I’d received from fellow authors and friends—the only way I really learned the lessons I needed to was by making the mistakes myself. Writing a book and having it edited are not easy. Marketing your book and budgeting efficiently are not easy. Getting a quality cover, along with exterior and interior design, is not easy. In my case, I did most of that myself (aside from the professional editing), but all of my experiences hammered home how complex creating and releasing a book actually is.

But there’s a bright side: It is possible. You don’t have to be rich or market savvy, or the greatest goddamned writer in existence. All you have to do is write the best book that you can, research enough that you feel ready to release it, package it in the best way possible, and then let it out into the world. I messed up, of course, but that was the most effective way to drill lessons into my stubborn author brain.

Routine is everything, but writing takes many shapes

As I became more serious about writing, I started to read numerous author autobiographies and writing craft books (including a few of Chuck’s). Routine is something that came up, a lot. My years as a self-employed music journalist and then as a self-employed tattoo artist taught me that I needed to get my shit together on my own in order for things to actually happen. I wouldn’t get any writing gigs or tattoo clients if I didn’t set strictures for myself with a daily routine, and it was often too easy to squander much of my “free time.” As a result, I learned to make work habitual enough that it didn’t feel like work—or, at least, not daunting.

Applying that to writing was a tough stem to snap. Writing Mushroom Blues revealed to me how difficult this craft could be, and that it required a certain part of my imagination/mind that didn’t do well with incessant distraction. That proved particularly problematic, as I’m a stay-at-home dad with two boys under four-years-old. But you know what I rediscovered? Routine really is everything. In the same way that babies and toddlers require routine to have a sense of stability in their developing noggins, adults need routine to feel that they’re in control of their lives.

For me, though, I’d applied routine to everything in my life except writing. The result? My days were streamlined enough that I could squeeze in more opportunities to write without sacrificing family time. I also gave myself a golden rule: Write or work on the story every day. No set word count. No forcing myself to write at a specific time, or for a certain length of time. Instead, I encouraged myself to make progress, however that took shape. Whether I fleshed out a scene over five fifteen-minute chunks, or I jotted down some great dialogue in my phone, or I wrote by hand in a notebook while hanging out in the backyard with my boys, anything meant progress. From my computer to my phone, my notebook to my iPad, I would utilize a variety of mediums to keep my mind engaged with the story, even if I couldn’t dedicate more than five, fifteen, thirty minutes to write. Piecemeal progress was the name of the game, and the consistent routine of life outside of writing afforded me the ability to do that. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck in a vortex of frustration, blaming my kids for never affording me time to fulfill my dream. If that were the case, I’d never have written this book

Community is essential

A common adage in the writing world is that it’s a lonely business, but that’s a half-truth. It can be lonely, sure, when you’re wringing your brain of its creative juices to create a fascinating world filled with fascinating characters doing fascinating things. That is fucking hard, and it’s not exactly a communal activity. But the “loneliness” ends there, at least as far as I’ve experienced. Taking my early drafts to writing critique partners opened my eyes to the faults of my story, but that constructive criticism was also key for me to realize: “This story isn’t shit.” Then there was my editor, followed by close friends and beta readers, all of whom brought more external (and helpful) opinions to the project. And this is just as a self-published author, mind you—traditionally published authors have many more cooks in the kitchen.

Beyond the writing side, there are so many collaborators who contribute to a book’s creation: Cover artists and designers, authors who provide blurbs, reviewers and book bloggers and booktubers who help to promote a book or offer their honest critiques. On the trad side, there are also publicists and marketers. Then, the book goes out into the hands of readers, who make the book their own by choosing to engage with it. At that point, the book isn’t wholly yours anymore.

What I’m saying is, a book is not the sole effort of the person whose name is on the cover, and Mushroom Blues showed me how truly marvelous these various collaborations could be. Working with my cover artist was a dream, getting feedback from trusted early readers improved my manuscript by leaps and bounds, setting up a virtual book tour with bloggers, podcasters, and booktubers was invigorating. All of it taught me that community is essential to my social and psychological well-being, but it’s also given my book a better chance in a crowded marketplace. You’re not alone in this journey, unless you choose to be. So, why not choose to put yourself out there and find people you connect with? ‘Cause at the end of the day, the people in your community will be the ones cheering you on and helping you out when you need it most.

Genres are more fun when they’re mashed

Mushroom Blues is a big ol’ mishy-mashy blend of genres, and I did that on purpose. Earlier versions of my shared fictional universe called The Fungalverse weren’t working, but the fungal people were. So, I took them, their culture, religion, customs, architecture, and forms of communication, and smashed it all together with genres that I adore. Cyberpunk? Check. Police procedurals? Check. Noir and murder mysteries? Check and check.

My decision to mash up these genres stemmed from the desire to give the fungal world I’d created a more engaging framework. Everything I’d written up to that point was boring, and kind of preachy—that’s not fun to read, is it? And if I was aware of it, then readers would be, too. What I didn’t realize until speaking to a fellow author and interviewer was that blending genres provided a deeper value: It could ground readers in familiar story structures and beats, while allowing the surreal, unnerving, and unfamiliar aspects to bleed through in a subtle way.

This is exactly what I’d done with Mushroom Blues, albeit unconsciously. It brought me so much enjoyment to take tropes and beats from police procedurals, for example, and twist them, subvert them, and colonize them with fungal oddities. Do you want the quintessential crime scene opener? I’ve got you covered, except mine is brimming with slithering mycelium and moldy flesh. In the mood for an interrogation? I’ve got you there, too, but it’ll be more disturbing and psychedelic than any interrogation you’ve ever read. Familiar genres are comforting in a lot of ways, but I had a ton of fun manipulating the beats I love pulled from the genres I love. I did it not only to satisfy my own creativity, but to surprise readers while concurrently meeting their expectations. After all, stories should be fun for the people who create them and those who consume them.

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Adrian M. Gibson is a Canadian SFF author, podcaster and illustrator (as well as occasional tattoo artist). He is the creator of the SFF Addicts podcast, which he co-hosts with fellow author M. J. Kuhn. The two host in-depth interviews with an array of science fiction and fantasy authors, as well as writing masterclasses. He lives in Quito, Ecuador with his family. Mushroom Blues is his debut novel.

Adrian M. Gibson: Website | Instagram | SFF Addicts Podcast

Mushroom Blues: Amazon

Two more things: first up, I finished the first draft of my next horror novel, THE STAIRCASE IN THE WOODS, and it rolled up at just over 100,000 words. Which for me is pretty slim! I don’t think I’ve written an adult novel that short since… maybe Invasive? Even Zer0es was like, 125k.

I expect it’ll come out in the first half of 2025 — April, I think, is the current plan, but that can change depending on a whole unholy host of factors. So don’t quote me on it. So! Its off to the editor, Tricia at Del Rey, and she’s the bee’s knees and will know how to kick it into its ideal nightmare form.

Also, I’ve had my pitch approved for my next middle grade, tentatively titled DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR. (It’s weird how my books tend to carry little things over from their previous narrative entrants — and I guess here the parity is in architecture. Staircases! Doors! Don’t go up them! Don’t open them! Ahhhhh!) I don’t want to say more about it yet, except it’s not really explicitly horror, but is meant to evoke the eerie fantasy of stuff like Labyrinth, or Miyazaki’s work, or Neverending Story. That otherworld kind of eerie, you know? Now I guess I have to write it? Are we sure there isn’t just a way to reach into my brain and squish it onto paper? Well, dangit.

Also, third thing is, the anthology I announced being a part of earlier, New Demons, I sadly am pulling out of at present. I’ll let you know if that changes. I’m still writing my story for The Stand anthology, and I think it’s pretty all right (set in Colorado!) so more as I know it.

Don’t run! I have cool stuff to talk about! Do not make me use the tranq darts again, please. You know how how you get when you’re full of the sleepytime juice. “Oh, I’m so hungover-feeling.” BOO-HOO.

Here, let me speak of cool things.

Thing the First:

Yep, that’s a brand spankin’ new cover for the (ahem) Bram Stoker Award nominated BLACK RIVER ORCHARD — particularly, for the trade paperback edition, which is coming out…

*blows the horn*

6/25/24!

(Here, actually, is the whole spread, front cover to spine to back:)

Cover designed by Regina Flath, who rules.

Anyway! You can preorder the paperback now —

If you want a signed, personalized edition, order from Doylestown Bookshop, and make sure to let them know in the notes you want me to deface your book with my ink.

Otherwise, you can get from anywhere books are sold — your own local bookstore, Bookshop.org, B&N, Amazon, and so forth.

ALSO, if you have read the book, please be so kind as to leave a review somewhere. Every review you leave gives you 3% more sex appeal. It’s true. It’s just science. I wouldn’t ever lie to you about science.

Thing the Second:

After some minor digital obstacles, Canines & Cocktails is now out both in e-book format and in print-on-demand! You can get novellas from Kevin Hearne, Delilah S. Dawson, and yours truly. Mine is called Whiskey Sour, and is set after the events of Wayward, and mayyyyyyy very well feature a Very Good Boy named Gumball. So I do hope you’ll check that out.

You can nab it on Amazon, Kobo, B&N, Apple Books, and so forth.

Cover by the inimitable Galen Dara!

NO CREEPY AI SHIT HERE, BUCKO.

Book description:

Oberon the Irish wolfhound and his Boston terrier buddy, Starbuck, not only witness humans waste perfectly good sausage, but also a sneaky murder committed right before their eyes in THE CHARTREUSE CHANTEUSE by Kevin Hearne. Justice demands that someone pay for both crimes, and together with their Druid, Atticus O’Sullivan, and D.I. Rose Badgely of the Launceston police, they’ll show the dastardly villain they messed with the wrong good dogs.

THE BARTENDER AND THE BEAST introduces the enchanting world of Arcadia Falls, the setting for Delilah S. Dawson’s return to Paranormal Romance. When no-nonsense bartender Cassia King returns to her sleepy hometown in the Georgia mountains to help her sister, she can’t help falling for well-dressed wildlife rehabilitator Riley. But as Cash learns, Arcadia Falls has a secret, and so does the bar’s rescue pit bull, Peach Pit…

In WHISKEY SOUR by Chuck Wendig, It was the end of the world and Harry Campbell wanted a drink. He’s one of the few who remained in Ouray, Colorado, after everything went to hell — and has decided to willfully fall off the wagon and find a way to make a cocktail he once loved, the whiskey sour. His quest to make a drink will take him beyond the borders of Ouray and into the world fallen under the shadow of the now-gone White Mask disease. But, he won’t do it alone — Shepherd Marcy Reyes lends him the courage and pluck of the golden retriever known as Gumball to help him stay alive and stay sane in the process. But Harry’s journey holds a greater, more secret purpose — he has questions that remain unanswered about what the rogue AI called Black Swan did to them all, and he intends to have those answers, even if they change him, and perhaps the world, forever.

(The audio is forthcoming!)

Thing the Thirdth:

Welcome to NEW DEMONS, an anthology on Kickstarter edited by Joe and Keith Lansdale (!) and Patrick McDonough — featuring stories from such holy shit authors like Robin Hobb, Joe Hill, Owen King, SA Cosby, Grady Hendrix, Christopher Golden, Alma Katsu, Brian Keene, Josh Malerman, Linda Addison, Cherie Priest, Gabino Iglesias, Chuck Palahniuk, some other stupid Chuck guy named oh I don’t know, CHUCK WENDIG, which I think is me? And goddamnit, that’s just silly that they let me in with such a fine crowd of people. Is there no bouncer at the door? (The authors listed above is only a taste, by the way. There are so many more authors. Click the link to see who else is in this thing, because your jaw won’t merely drop, it’ll dangle from your face like a porch swing.)

It’s a Kickstarter, so it needs your backing, and I hope you’ll consider doing so. Again, you can check it out riiiiiiight here.

Thing The Fourth (Be With You):

Sorry, did I say three things?

Four things.

Four things.

You, me, April 6th, 2pm, Exeter Library here in Berks County, PA.

I’ll be there, talking, signing books, and maybe doing a jig or two. No promises on the jigs. Unless you get me drunk. Then a jig is guaranteed.

OKAY THANK YOU BYE

I recently finished this book — the one pictured above, hovering slightly over a single Hellraiser Lament Configuration pillow. It is The Butcher of the Forest, by Premee Mohamed. It is easily one of my most favorite things I’ve read this year. And of last year. And of the years prior. It is excellent. Then I also recall that another of her novellas, The Annual Migration of Clouds, is also excellent, and one of my favorite things. (And it has a followup coming??) And I also read her novel, Beneath the Rising, which was also really fucking good, and I think it is at this point I must declare my allegiance to Premee Mohamed. I am ride or die for her.

I note this because I also want you to be ride or die for her, not simply because I want her to be able to write more books that I selfishly get to read, but also because, hey, I like you. You deserve good things. And her books are good things, ipso facto, you deserve her books. Am I using ipso facto right? I have no idea. And I’m not going to check.

Now, understand, I have not read everything she’s written. I failed to finish her series through no fault of hers but rather because I am a slow reader and have a lot of books to read, and reading a series just sucker-punches the time right out of me. She has a new novel out, Siege of Burning Grass, that I have not read but unsurprisingly everyone says it is truly great, and then there’s And What Can We Offer You Tonight, which also sounds amazing, and — I mean, what I’m saying is, I still have more to read, and I have ordered these books posthaste. Because I deserve good things, too.

And you may want me to convince you further, and I know I’m going to have to use my words to do so, and yet, I’m having a hard time doing that without it just being just a bunch of bleats of delight accompanied by various frantic gesticulations — still, hey, lemme try.

It is rare to find an author who operates in a near-perfect balance. Storytelling and writing requires a lot of balancing, and very few of us get it all right. And that’s okay! Stories do not require perfect balance and can in fact be purposefully out of balance in a way that is really successful. Still, just the same, when you find it, when you find a story that just feels like it’s really operating at that level, it’s a thing of wonder. And here she’s done it more than once, somehow, like a weird miracle.

What does balanced mean? Well, for one, she knows how to tell small, personal, intimate stories amid big, complex worlds and ideas without losing the impact of either. The prose, too, runs an exquisite thread of poetry through the needle eye of clarity — poetic writing can kind of drift into estoterica, and clarity can sometimes hit like a brick, but again, rare is the writer that does both at the exact same time, and I find that’s what she’s doing. Her work is also a little bit funny, a lot sad, considerably tragic, yet also, somehow hopeful at the same time, and reads both like a warm hug and a cold kick to the face. There’s tension and adventure and she knows how to worldbuild like a champion, gently folding it all into the text like the most delicate of egg-whites — none of the airyness or detail lost, no rough club-like beats here. Nothing is overmixed and overexplained. Nothing is underbaked and underexplained. This is Goldilocks-level storytelling. Everything feels just right.

Like, right now, if I had to tell you my top five novellas, Butcher of the Forest and Annual Migration of Clouds would be in that list. (Other recent novellas from other authors that might go in that list: Bloom by Delilah Dawson, When Among Crows by Veronica Roth, and jeez, just spin the wheel and pick any one of Eric LaRocca’s. Wait, is P. Djeli Clark’s Ring Shout a novella, too? Shit this list is getting hard. Whatever, there are no rules, that’s also an amazing one, so go get it. God, novellas are really having a moment, aren’t they? Also just got ML Rio’s Graveyard Shift on deck and am excited as hell for that. I will shut up now.) Point is, I just think you need to go out and get these books and trust me when I say, they are excellent in a way that stories rarely are, and somehow she just keeps getting better, which honestly isn’t even fair. I mean, what are the rest of us supposed to do? Also get better?

(Ugh, fine, we’ll try.)

I tell you all this because it’s sometimes important to share THE BOOK LOVE and I’m quite certain I don’t do it often enough. So I’m doing it now. Go to your bookstore, or online book merchant, or library, and seek all the work of Premee Mohamed immediately ASAFP please and thank you.

HURRY

Links to purchase (from bookshop dot org)

Butcher of the Forest

Annual Migration of Clouds

Siege of Burning Grass

Beneath the Rising

All her other books because jfc just buy all of ’em

And now, a guest post from awesome pal and excellent author Kevin Hearne —

Those of you who are already familiar with my work know that I really enjoy digging into mythologies and extrapolating how the figures from a given tradition might behave today. And you also know that, wherever possible, I like to depict them as “first editions”—the oldest known imagery, which often changes throughout the centuries. For example, when I wrote “The Naughtiest Cherub” (which you can find in First Dangle and Other Stories), I giggled at depicting Lucifer as a Biblically accurate cherub: a sphere made of eyes and wings. None of that horns-and-hooves business—those depictions were largely dreamt up by fervid European fanatics in the medieval period. The original Lucifer probably smelled like burnt feathers instead of sulfur.

So that’s why I was so tickled to have a crack at giving the sirens back their wings in Candle & Crow, my forthcoming release that you can preorder now. They’re on the cover and I wanna talk about it! Let’s take a look at the cover and blurb copy and give you a preorder link, then I’ll gush about the sirens below:

From the New York Times bestselling author of The Iron Druid Chronicles comes the final book in the “action-packed, enchantingly fun” (Booklist) Ink & Sigil series, as an ink-slinging wizard pursues the answer to a very personal mystery: Who cast a pair of curses on his head?

Al MacBharrais has a most unusual job: He’s a practitioner of ink-and-sigil magic, tasked with keeping order among the gods and monsters that dwell hidden in the human world. But there’s one supernatural mystery he’s never been able to solve: Years ago, someone cast twin curses on him that killed off his apprentices and drove away loved ones who heard him speak, leaving him bereft and isolated. 

But he’s not quite alone: As Al works to solve this mystery, his friends draw him into their own eccentric dramas. Buck Foi the hobgoblin has been pondering his own legacy—and has a plan for a daring shenanigan that will make him the most celebrated hobgoblin of all. Nadia, goth queen and battle seer, is creating her own cult around a god who loves whisky and cheese. 

And the Morrigan, a former Irish death goddess, has decided she wants not only to live as an ordinary woman but also to face the most perilous challenge of the mortal world: online dating. 

Meanwhile, Al crosses paths with old friends and new—including some beloved Druids and their very good dogs—in his globe-trotting quest to solve the mystery of his curses. But he’s pulled in so many different directions by his colleagues, a suspicious detective, and the whims of destructive gods that Al begins to wonder: Will he ever find time to write his own happy ending?

Preorder Candle & Crow

So! The sirens. There are two major versions of them, and the latter-day depiction of them as something akin to mermaids has taken hold in popular imagination, much like the depiction of Lucifer as a humanoid with pointy parts won over his original form as a ball of feathers and eyes. There was a TV show called Siren from 2018-2020 that was all about mermaids with Rad Scream Powers. There are innumerable other modern references that treat the sirens like sexy fish women flipping their tails and other assets at passing sailors. But the original sirens were bird women, as attested by many vases and sculptures from ancient Greece, and as attested by none other than scholar Emily Wilson, translator of The Odyssey and The Iliad, who speaks of their origins in this nifty article here, which includes some nice images. One of those images in particular is how I first encountered the sirens as a wee lad: The painting by John William Waterhouse, Odysseus and the Sirens, illustrating his harrowing episode with the sirens while tied to the mast and his crew had their ears stuffed up.

Waterhouse did a fantastic job in every particular except the number of sirens. In the ancient stories about them, there are usually only two or three of them, and they’re not breeding lil’ bebe sirens. Homer—the earliest source around 750 BCE—listed two. There’s a nice breakdown of the numbers of sirens and their names in old stories on the Wikipedia page. The seven sirens Waterhouse has in his painting certainly do wonders in terms of composition and sheer tension, but that number is an outlier.

Homer’s story makes it pretty clear that they’re offering Odysseus knowledge of the past and perhaps the future—that’s the super tempting thing that makes him want to hear more. And based on that, the sirens in my series are infallible prophets. In the Iron Druid Chronicles, they correctly (if somewhat cryptically) predict the onset of Ragnarok. And since Candle & Crow is part of the Iron Druid universe, the sirens remain close to omniscient regarding certain events, but they’re absolutely disinclined to help anybody out with their knowledge. That bit about wishing men to die is all too real.

So we have this fantastic cover art by Sarah J. Coleman (@Inkymole on social media) who depicts two sirens with the torsos of women but the lower bodies of untidy turkeys—a phrase I used in my art wish list. I don’t want to spoil anything, but the sirens are absolutely pivotal to the plot of Candle & Crow, and they’re just one of the fantastic figures from mythology that appear. The candle in question is related to Sumerian myth, and the crow, of course, is one folks will recognize from pagan Irish tradition. (Some gnarly dudes from pagan Scottish myth appear too, and they’re uniquely Scottish and so far as I know have no parallels in the other mythologies of the world.)

Delighted also to see Al’s cane at the bottom of the cover (underneath the crow’s wings) and if you look at the runic figures sketched inside the letters that form CROW, those are taken directly from a sarcophagus found in the Glasgow necropolis. It’s a cover that rewards a nice close look and I hope you’ll have fun exploring it up close as I did.

This book not only wraps things up for Al, Buck, and Nadia, but also for Atticus, Granuaile, and  Owen from the Iron Druid Chronicles. I will continue shorter stories in the world—in fact, I’m writing a new Oberon short story every month this year for paid subscribers to my newsletter—but this will be the last novel in the universe. So please preorder if you’re already on board, and if not, the Iron Druid Chronicles begins with Hounded and Ink & Sigil begins with the eponymous Ink & Sigil. It’s all full of fantastic creatures from myth and ornery gods and very good dogs. Happy reading!