Just finished writing the novel I started the day that Cult workshop went over (21 June; really I finished Friday night, I suppose, just before Monk). It Came from Del Rio. Nothing but fun. Planned to go no more than 240 pages, and then just went 285, which is something of a record for me, staying that close to the blueprints. Anyway, it’s a story of a father and a daughter, of a rabbit and a zombie, a border story which deals with the traffic both of narcotics and weapons of terrorism. And yeah, it splashes down Sixth Street a time or two, yelling everybody’s name.
subtitle: “an Epistolary Slasher Novel.”
series indicator: Part I of the Bunnyhead Chronicles.
publisher: I’ve yet to even let my always-editor (at FC2) or my agent read it. So, like the rest I’ve got cued up and ready ( Tar, Baby; Seven Spanish Angels; Hair of the Dog; The Meat Tree: thirteen stories [ and one whose title I can’t say, because it’s too cool, and happens to be about werewolves, and whichever one or two I’m probably forgetting here ] ), this one isn’t even submitted anywhere right now.
working on now: as no prominent think thanks are leaving me voice mail, and nobody needs me for any focus-group/market research kind of stuff, and I don’t really have a job, I’ll be writing a screenplay for the rest of August, I’d guess. And maybe a story or two. Been meaning to get in Weird Tales, just because, well, 1) they rock, but 2) Conan debuted there, so maybe will try that, finally.
And, speaking of Conan, thanks to a guy with the unlikely name ‘Pooka,’ I now have that UK-only Centenary Edition of The Complete Chronicles of Conan. Which I had to immediately put in my special-book place, along with Bernard Heuvelmans’ On the Track of Unknown Animals, Slavoj Zizek’s The Art of the Ridiculous Sublime, and that X-Man / Star Trek Next Generation crossover novel, which has yet to get the acclaim it deserves. You can tell by the cover that it’s timeless, though. I mean, Picard and Professor X on the same deck? It’d be a real test of Patrick Stewart’s acting ability, if this one ever makes it to the big screen. But of course I’m sure he’d do it with aplomb, which, for all you cake sniffers, here means ‘in a way which should put all other actors to permanent shame.’
[ oh, and too, just talking boring site-issues, I may have to turn off the comments here for awhile, as the spambots are massing for some final strike, it feels like; I’m getting probably fifty fake-comments a day, which, I mean, they’re easy enough to kill before they ever show, but I’d rather be cruising eBay or something, yeah? but then too I’ve yet to skate the WordPress pages, see if there’s some anti-bot or something . . . ]
is the NYT bestselling author of 35 or so books, +350 stories, some comic books, and all this stuff here. He lives in Boulder, Colorado, and has a few broken-down old trucks, one PhD, and way too many boots. More