No, I don’t know what that means, but I do know that it means at the bottom of this post I have some photos, including a photo of vultures. Because vultures are awesome, that’s why. Don’t forget that one of their self-defense mechanisms is HOT ROTTEN VOMIT.

Merry Christmas!

Anyway, just some quick newsy bits before we get to the photos —

Do not forget that I give gift ideas for THE WEIRDO WRITERS IN YOUR LIFE.

Wanderers has also hit more year-end lists, to my shock and delight —

Polygon lists it as a top of 2019.

As does Rob Hart at LitReactor Staff Picks of 2019. (Quote from him on the book that I love: “800-something pages and I read it in three days. Wendig took everything you see on Twitter that keeps you awake at night and condenses it all into a cohesive narrative about our garbage-fire reality, and makes it a ripping thriller on top of that.” Also, if you’ve not yet read The Warehouse, get on it.)

And finally, NPR! Holy crap. It hit their Book Concierge list, and I’m floored.

So, not that anybody’s counting (okay, I’m counting), it’s hit best of the year lists at:

Bookpage

Guardian

Kirkus

Library Journal

LitReactor

NPR

Polygon

Publishers Weekly

Washington Post

It’s very exciting. It’s the first time any of my books has had this kind of reach.

Anyway! What else?

Some books of mine are still on sale:

Invasive is still $1.99 for your Kindlemachine. It’s probably the best precursor to Wanderers, in fact. (It does not require having read Zer0es, despite what some sites will say.)

Atlanta Burns is $0.99, so if you like Nazis getting punched, well.

Under the Empyrean Sky is $0.99, too, as are the rest of the books in that series — cornpunk YA, Star Wars by way of John Steinbeck and Hunger Games.

Damn Fine Story is only $4.99 for your Kindle, too.

And if you want a Hydrate and Read Books t-shirt, Worldbuilders has you covered. And don’t forget about their year’s end charity run, which ends tomorrow, and affords you a chance to win a bunch of my books.

Finally, pretty cool that Aftermath gets a shout-out from Chris Terrio, the screenwriter of Rise of Skywalker. No, I don’t expect this means the movie does anything with the books! But it’s happy to see, just the same.

ANYWAY

HERE HAVE SOME PHOTOS, FRANDOLORIANS

SWEET JESUS, THESE HOLIDAYS, THEY JUST KEEP HAPPENING. And each year, you surely look to the heavens for an answer to the plaguing question: “What the hell do I get for the writer in my life?” (Because surely, you only have one writer in your life. It’s kind of a Highlander situation.)

And so once again I arrive, like the Riders of Rohan, galloping over the hill with a beaming light of Gift Ideas For Writers.

Gonna make this one pretty quick and snappy, because we all got shit to do.

For The Wealthiest Landowner

Long now have I gone without a writing shed (by “long” I mean like, two months) and it’s fucking killing me. IT IS KILLING ME, I said, and I’m definitely not being melodramatic at all, because even now my creative spirit atrophies as I am away from my horcrux I mean writing shed. Okay, more seriously, I’m managing fine, but will eventually get a shiny new shed in which to masturbauhhh I mean write stories. Shut up. Quit lookin’ at me. *hisses*

So, if you’re somewhat wealthy and have land, maybe you too want to get a writing space for your Writer Friend. Studio Sheds are an option, is what I’m saying.

For The Under-Caffeinated

Y’all need some coffee. Coffee is how the words are made. “But Chuck,” you say, “not all writers drink coffee,” and that’s true, except those writers are exiled from the Authorial Star Chamber and their name goes on a list, a dangerous list. Okay fine there’s no list, but seriously, coffee is good, and a coffee subscription is a helpful thing. You might find some nice options here, in fact. Though Angel’s Cup tends to be my favorite just for the sheer wild variety of what you get. There’s also the Yes Plz Beans & Zines approach if you want a little reading with your brewing.

For The Ink Addicts Among Us

I don’t do fountain pens and I don’t handwrite my books, but I do like a good pen now and again, and for my mileage, the best pen I own is the Squire from Baron Fig. They sent me one a while back and it’s legit. Writes like a dream and is sturdy, feels good in the hand. Isn’t cheap. Remains worth it. I also don’t know where mine is — it’s been jangled up in the move somehow, and I assume I’ll find it in the year 2024, located in some box containing random action figures and sex toys. Needless to say, I shouldn’t be trusted to pack anything. But get this pen. (There’s a neat “red pen” variant for editors.) Also, they have great notebooks, too, including some nifty “guided” notebooks that help you keep specific kinds of journals, like this one here.

For The Perpetually Icy

Typing and tweeting requires nimble, naked fingers, but it’s wintertimes and you may want warm hands, and so I recommend to you: fingerless gloves.

For Those Who Like Hot Dudes Reading

There’s Hot Dudes Reading. Just in case we need a reminder that books are hella sexy.

For Those With Writer’s Block

Here’s an actual writer’s block — I mean, sorta. It’s a block of wood. Bonus: it’s a lamp too whose light will shine the way forward through the dark forest of the writer’s life.

For Those Who Storify Their Games Or Gamify Their Stories Or Whatever

Let’s see. There’s Storymatic’s Synapsis! Or the Wordsmith Deck. Or the classic, and my favorite, the Writer Emergency deck.

For The Software-Minded

Scrivener is of course the classic, but have you seen their other product, Scapple? Scapple has some serious outlining organization-fu.

For The Everyone Who Writes Just Shut Up And Buy This

Dreyer’s English. If the writer in your life doesn’t have this? They need this. (There’s gonna be a game, too. But that’s later.) This is an immensely good, funny, and kind look at the English language. Flexible where appropriate, and will give a good look at the granular side of this thing we do.

For The August Among Us

Venerable scriptwriter (and now, novelist) John August provides access to his Scriptnotes podcast alongside transcripts and such, for a nicely neat low price. Check it.

For The Visual Writer

DSLR cameras are hella cheap right now because: holidays. A good, if not entirely cheap, gift for a writer — a camera to let them go out into the world, snap some snaps, bring it back to the page. You might say, “But our phones now have great cameras on them, dipshit,” and yes, that is true — but there is a high value placed on putting down the phone. Pick up the phone it’s like, suddenly there are tweets and texts and various alarms alarming you of alarming things. The camera is pure. It escapes the verbal. It puts you in the moment.

For, Well, Everyone

We like it when you buy our books.

We like it when you review them.

So maybe do that.

I do of course have a couple books on writing ahem ahem ahem — Kick-Ass Writer and Damn Fine Story. And I also have a shiny new biggum book, Wanderers, which I’m sure you’ve never heard about because I never talk about it. *shifts uncomfortably*

You can find my books at Indiebound, Amazon, Apple, Kobo, B&N, Powells, etc.

And if you wanted signed and personalized copies of my books?

Doylestown Bookshop will gladly ship to you! Contact them for personalization.

Prior Year Lists

If you wanna check older lists, here are links to 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014.

MERRY NON-DENOMINATIONAL SOLSTICEDAY EVERYBUGGY

Hey, check it out — at Amazon, Invasive is $1.99 for today, CYBORG MONDAY. Offer open to non-cyborgs, as well, apparently? Whatever. More to the point, if you dug Wanderers, particularly the near-future sci-fi-horror aspect of it? Then Invasive is a good next read for you. It’s got ants! And fungus! And anxiety! And it’s also a very cheap vacation to Hawaii.

Speaking of Wanderers —

If you want signed, personalized copies this holiday season, Doylestown Bookshop is your jam. Actually, you can likely get most of my books from there signed and personalized, if you so choose. Give ’em a call — they will ship right to you.

Let’s see, what else. Wanderers has hit a couple more end-of-year-lists, much to my great delight: Bookpage and Guardian both listed it as top SFF picks from 2019. That’s in addition to Publisher’s Weekly, Kirkus, Library Journal, and also the top books of 2019 at Washington Post. So, I’m… pretty excited that this book has connected so well with readers and critics alike.

Tim Pratt also reviewed it at Locus:

“I’ve always liked big long books about the apocalypse. I read Stephen King’s The Stand as a teenager, and loved it, as millions of other read­ers did; it’s still the gold standard of the form, and Chuck Wendig name-checks King’s classic here. Like The Stand, and McCammon’s Swan Song, and Cronin’s The Passage, and Niven & Pournelle’s Lucifer’s Hammer (which is also obliquely referenced, I suspect, as Wanderers has a portentous comet in its opening pages), this isn’t just a post-apocalyptic story: it’s a pre-, peri-, and post-apocalyptic novel, viewed through the eyes of multiple viewpoint characters who have lots of room to strive and suffer across a gener­ous and sprawling page count. The Wanderers holds up just fine in their company.”

And Vultures got a Locus review, as well:

“What’s so great about this series are the characters that Wendig writes. Miriam isn’t the only one who leaps off of the page. Her girlfriend Gabby and neighbor Steve also pop, as does Wendig’s knack for energetic dialog and crackling prose. Vultures is a fun and un­expectedly moving way to close out this part of Miriam’s life.”

So, everything is coming up Wendig.

Thanks for checking out the books — if you read ’em and dug ’em, please be so kind as to leave a review at your favorite review receptacle. If you didn’t like my books, please go shout your angry reviews at a yak. Any yak will do.

Finally, if you wanna know where I’m going to be —

On 12/12, I’ll be at the Strand in NYC talking to Erin Morgenstern about her newest, STARLESS SEA. Also, gin, foxes, Game of Thrones, and more.

I’ll also be at the Tucson Book Festival in March, and Pike’s Peak Writers in April!

Finally, since it is Macro Monday and this is the first official macro photo I’ve taken at our new digs — that’s a good bit to end on, so here ’tis.

Seriously, I would do anything for Baby Yoda. I’d kill for him. I’d die for him. I demand MERCH of him is really what I’m saying. ANYWAY hey hi hello, it’s me, your host, Chnark Moondog, here to drop THE NEWS upon you like pennies flung from the viewing platform of a very tall skyscraper.

First and biggest bit of news: hey, whoa, Wanderers landed on Washington Post’s 50 Notable Books from 2019 list, and I have no idea how it got there on a list filled with such literary luminaries. I assume it’s a mistake and will be corrected shortly but in the meantime I’m going to pretend it deserves to be there.

In addition to Kirkus and Pub Weekly’s best books of 2019 lists, Wanderers also hit Library Journal’s best horror of the year, alongside some notably fantastic books from Gabino Iglesias, T. Kingfisher (aka Ursula Vernon), Paul Tremblay, and John Hornor Jacobs.

It was also a Locus Bestseller for the month of November, too.

Finally, Frankie has found a very good use for the book here.

Wanderers is one of those books that keeps on going, and I have to thank you all for spreading the word about it — it means a lot and I’m so glad the book has connected with people so well. (The book did not make the final round of Goodreads Choice, which I assume is a conspiracy and an oversight, which is to say, it’s not there because there are simply so many damn good books this year.)

In non-bookish news, The Mary Sue talked to me about *checks notes* apples, and only apples. Hear me opine about the Greatest Fruit ever. And also you can now gaze back on the entire #heirloomapplereview2019 thread from Twitter, which is now (mostly) done. I’ll still do a few more, and I’ll definitely talk about the Cosmic Crisp when it comes out, since apparently that’s some kind of Future Moon Apple or some shit. (Link to last tweet in the thread here.)

And now, some photos.

“Hi. I am a fellow writer and have enjoyed your blog over the years. I know you lost your mom recently and I wanted to share my condolences. I, also, lost mine over a year ago and it has completely paralyzed me — stopped me in my creative tracks. I read your blog regarding self-care: do you take time to lick your wounds or soldier on? Not to bring you down, but I’ve found that soldiering on, for me, is impossible — and the more I try, the worse I feel… like I’ve been abandoned on the lower end of a see-saw — my heels stuck in the dirt. I have started three separate books and have abandoned them all and am stymied: writing was how I got someone to jump on the other end of the see saw — but I’m still there, alone on the playground. “Just write” are the words I hear. Writing words are easy. Writing a cohesive story is not. No one understands, not my therapist, my agent, my loved ones, not even myself. I don’t know what I want you to say, if anything, I just wanted to write THESE words down to someone who I think understands.”

That came from an email I received, and I wanted to respond to it, but I didn’t know how. And I didn’t know that my answer would be fruitful, or useful, or even sensible, honestly. But just the same, I wanted to say something about this. Many somethings, as a matter of fact, and so here I am to do exactly that. I want to acknowledge this question and this email, even if I cannot answer it, not truly.

What I want to say is this:

Grief is water. Grief is wave, river, and lake, it is the sea, it is a current.

You do not control it; rather, you can only respond to it. It wants what it wants, and it is always moving, ready to fill the low spaces. Sometimes you’re in its shallows, sometimes you step wrong and you’re in its tireless, unrelenting depths looking for light, trying to find which way is up. But it’s always there. Sometimes wet on your feet. Other times a fog, a mist, a light rain.

There are rocks to crash against. Shoals to trap you. Probably some pinchy crabs, too.

When my father died, I wrote my way through it. I don’t know that I wrote my way out of it, though that’s what I told myself at the time. Simply, I had work, I had deadlines, and they were an anchor chain to hold onto down there in the dark. Was it healthy? I don’t know. Probably not. But I had bills to pay and at that point I wasn’t a proper novelist, but had freelance clients whose books would not wait for my words; I either wrote them and they’d be in there with some coin in my pocket, or I wouldn’t, and the books would go on without me. So I wrote anyway. Not because of. But rather, despite. Or even in spite, or to spite the grief — to spit in the unfair eye of an unfuckwithable universe, to assert my control over something I surely did not control.

This time, I didn’t. The grief is different somehow but so is the situation — a lot more chaos in my life, and also, fewer immediate deadlines. (I still have them, but they’re longer on the horizon.) Maybe too there’s a difference in losing a mother versus losing a father, I don’t know. I know that I’ve tried writing some fresh words and they were mostly just crumbs, and stale crumbs, at best, so I resorted instead to doing reading and research, which has been a good default. I’ll get there. I’m starting to feel like I want to get there. I can see how to swim up. But the water wants what it wants. It goes where it goes and I’ll have to respond to it.

And that’s all I know how to do. I can’t bail myself out of it with a bucket. I can’t fly above it. It’s water, as prevalent and present as it is all around us — it’s in the air, in our bodies, it’s our sweat and our tears. (And don’t forget: crying is just our eyes puking up sadness.) You can’t get away from it. You can’t dry it up, or out. You can only respond to it. Do you write through it? I don’t know. Maybe. Do you write garbage even knowing its garbage just to keep fresh? If you want. Do you write about it, as I’m doing here? If you’d like. Or do you rest for a while? Writing isn’t always writing. Sometimes writing is resting. (Though, writing is also knowing when not to rest, even when it feels easiest to do exactly that. Sometimes, hard as it is, you gotta wake up.) The river takes you where it takes you; it’s up to you whether you follow its path or reach for shore. Or maybe —

Maybe grief is undertow. You don’t swim away from it. You damn sure don’t swim into it. You swim sideways. You find a way left or right and you swim out of its current. That’s the only response, I think. What that looks like, in form, is up to you. But I want to say it’s okay to write, it’s okay not to write, it’s okay to write badly, it’s okay to write beautifully in a way that isn’t practical or useable, it’s okay to write about it or write to avoid it. Whatever it is you create, it’s a response to the grief or looking away from it. Toward it to see it and understand it, or from it to escape it.

It’s swimming sideways.

All I know is, keep on going. Keep swimming. Those we have lost would want us to, wouldn’t they? One suspects it might be their greatest wish, and so we honoring them by doing exactly that, in whatever we we can muster, in whatever direction we find best, with our strongest stroke.

Stay afloat, fellow writer. Respond to the current. You are not its master, but nor is it yours.