Vampires Keeping Me Up At Night

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

2011-10-24T12:27:00.013-04:00

I know this is a bit late, but it's Halloween once again, the time for ghosts, ghouls and other nasties, but more specifically it's a time of vampires. And this year, let's celebrate the vampire hunters, the slayers of the undead Children of the Night in film and television and literature. And considering I've recently attened the Theater of the Vampires Ball in New Orleans with special guest Laurell K Hamilton, let's celebrate her very own slayer: Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter.

I've just finished reading the fifth book in her very long running series, Bloody Bones, and honestly I was hooked again. Serephina, the town's master vampire, is described so beautifully and wonderfully spooky that the book's weaknesses disappeared for me completely. Reading a captivating chapter like that is the kind of stuff that inspires me most to continue to write, even when I'm in hopeless despair. But Anita Blake is a richly deep and complex character, and after hearing Laurell at the ball, it's easy to understand where this character has come from.

Well Halloween is officially over by now, but I'm already looking forward to the next Coven Ball in New Orleans, and catching up with the Anita Blake series... Oh, and special shout out to those wonderful folks that made the Theater of the Vampires ball the success it was. Without them, we vampire/Lestat/Anne Rice fans would have nowhere to go once a year and celebrate our love of the undead. So thank you very much.

Theatre of the Vampires Ball

2011-10-24T11:24:00.006-04:00

The Theatre of the Vampires Ball. We had originally planned to attend the ball as the hooded-cloaked vampires of the theatre as seen in Interview with the Vampire, but the trip was nearly in jeapordy, so costumes were out of the question until last night. I need help finding a costume, quickly. Laurell K. Hamilton is one of the guests this year, but I'm having a hard time coming up with a suitable Anita Blake-inspired costume. I'm not exactly Jean-Claude material. I just don't have the hair for it...

My Dog's Licking My Leg

2011-10-23T23:37:00.003-04:00

I lost my job as I was hospitalized with atrial fibrillation. Interesting, huh? I was in shock for quite a while, and then I realized I hated the job anyway. So I'm a statistic again and proud of it. Power to the People!

We're headed to New Orleans in a few days, and I swear I need this. Granted, while the heart issues were giving me non-stop grief the past month, my doc gave me a clean bill of health, so I eliminated quite a bit of depression. So I plan on just living life. Me and my dog chillen at home and I'll continue to write. God, I thank you for the faith and the good heart, but I wish I could consistently write and finish this book and get it published. My attention span has to focus...

There's so much more I should add, considering the length of time that I've been away from this diary, but I want to chill. I want to think about another ARVLFC vampire ball again and beignets and cafe au lait and Bourbon St music.

Tomorrow: MNF and Baltimore Ravens.

WTF

2011-08-09T11:07:00.003-04:00

What do you do when you realize that everything that you've written is a mish-mash of everything that you've read? I went to bed the other night, after several plot-altering editions to the first book, and blushed, turned red all over, and realized that the changes were way too similar to my favorite vampire series! Seriously, I'm shell-shocked and completely feeling helplessness right now...

I'm Back

2011-05-17T17:40:00.003-04:00

I have no idea why I keep avoiding this blog. I haven't written in months, but yesterday, or the day before that, I opened book two up and jumped right into a new chapter. After an incredibly painful Orioles loss last night, it's easy to avoiding watching them the next day, and I find myself needing to write only when this happens. I'll be back later to summarize the new chapter, which I'm finding very fun to write.

Birdland, baby. It's a bitch...

Girlfriend's Critique

2011-03-09T15:08:00.003-05:00

My girlfriend spent most of Tuesday reading UNIQUE. She helped me to find about five holes in the plot, so I'm glad for her time. This has coerced me into hiring a book doctor, if anything. Plus, she kinda got off on it...

Ugh

2011-03-04T13:39:00.001-05:00

Perhaps my anticipation got the better of me, but after submitting my email to Angry Robot Books this morning, I reread the synopsis I provided, and blushed. It was just not a very good indicator of my writing, I fear. It told the story in a very abridged and rigid way. I'm not proud.

Excitement turned to defeat. I'd better get started on another two-page synopsis and hit the agents again...

Angry Robot(s) rock!

2011-03-03T12:22:00.002-05:00

Angry Robot Books are having an open submission month all this March, and I'm elbow deep in polish at the moment. I've been writing the two-page synopsis the past night or two, and I'm happy with it so far. I've even contacted David Frankland with a cover art query, as I've become a big fan of his colorful work.

Fingers crossed. Angry Robot looks very promising and feels like the perfect publisher for UNIQUE. I have hope, dear online diary, that this story will take it to 11 all night long...!

Revelations

2011-02-26T13:59:00.002-05:00

Revelations are fun. And usually they come out of nowhere. I was in the shower this morning, and I realized how I could bring a character from book 1 full-circle in the ending. He's the protagonist's dad, duh! Needless to say I didn't want to leave for work. So tonight I'll open the story and fix three big holes that have left a void in my gut.

Gone, but Not Forgotten

2011-02-21T16:23:00.003-05:00

I have no idea where my work ethic went. I haven't opened the story in weeks. I don't have anything to write. Perhaps one day in the near future I'll look at this online journal and my bi-polar personality will jump off of these cyber-pages.

Whatever it is, it's pretty sad. I don't like the roller coaster ride. I'd rather it be more like a train ride, a steady, progressing pace than the up and down I'm used to.

White Out!

2011-01-26T20:12:00.003-05:00

Right now, it's a white-out; snow has covered everything. And lightning is lighting the earth up in blinding white brilliance. Thunder now, rattling windows and echoing into oblivion. Candles lit.

Enjoy the night...

Writing with Rhythm

2011-01-25T13:35:00.003-05:00

Okay, before I get started on the updates for Book Two, I'll just say that the Rivalry is dead. The Steelers punished the Ravens, on then went on to beat the Jets, and will probably enjoy their 3rd Lombardi trophy in six years this February. The Ravens are now second fiddle in their division. There is no comparison. They are no longer a threat.

That breaks my heart.

But I have hope for the O's more than I've had in over thirteen years. Bring on spring...

Book Two is now close to 25K words, and the plot is unfolding all around each and every paragraph. I may not be able to tie it up in 100,000 words, so this book may also be a Part 1/Part 2. We'll see. But there is a rhythm I'm developing with this book. I don't exactly know what that means at the moment, though I'm hoping to understand it soon.

I've been fairly quiet on the query letter front suddenly. I have yet to hear from Michelle Brower, so maybe I'll start sending out more letters in February (as I promised I would).

The Rivalry

2011-01-15T10:14:00.003-05:00

The Ravens play the Pittsburgh Steelers tonight, and I have to admit, I don't feel good about it at all. In fact, the Ravens even lost in my dreams last night. Palamalu even haunts my dreams...

Unfortunately the hype leading up to this game has kept me from putting my focused mind toward writing book two. This game is just controlling every aspect of my life. Thankfully, one way or the other, it's over tonight.

Tomorrow things should be back to normal, and I can spend a few hours with the manuscript. There is so much about the plot that I've yet to discover, so that's helping to keep me interested. And as of today, no word yet on my query from Michelle Brower...

Go Ravens!

Book Two update

2011-01-11T16:13:00.004-05:00

Update #1: I am really making strides with the second book. I'm at about 20K words in, or a fifth of the completed manuscript. The plot is coming together much better since I began using leftover characters from the first story. Revenge is driving the protagonist forward, and I'm just going along with the ride. I'm debating on keeping the title WITNESS or to go with something a bit more revenge-inspired.

Update #2: I've decided to keep/revert the first book's title THE UNIQUE DESTRUCTION OF AN ORDINARY SOUL, and keep it under the series name of THE DISPLACED VAMPIRE.

As the snow falls tonight, I'll be writing by the candlelight...

Tonight I plan to mail out a query letter to Michelle Brower of Folio Literary Agency. So, wish me luck!

Birdland, Baby!

2011-01-10T00:12:00.002-05:00

Well, the Ravens won quite handedly in KC today. So now it's off to Pittsburgh. How perfect is that? It seems it could only really be that way... The O's continued to improve this week, so heading into FanFest later this month is going to be very exciting. This is Birdland, baby - and I love it! April really cannot not come soon enough.

So, I managed to get my stories off of my infected laptop, and have transplanted them onto another. I'm elbow deep in book two, and enjoying the hell out of the revenge-centric plot. Off tomorrow, so I'll be writing all day.

Computer Death

2011-01-06T13:52:00.004-05:00

So apparently I've been naughty, because my computer has fallen ill. It's contracted some virus, and I haven't been able to write for over a week. It's frustrating, because I don't have the money to repair the laptop. And I have all of this inspiration for book two in my head!

I have seven speculated books in their infancy plus the sequel and my latest two revisions for Displaced on the hard drive. I pray that they are not gone forever...

But there is cause for optimism! The Ravens are once again in the playoffs. The O's are making a ton of good moves, and I really believe that 2011 will be a winning season for the team. I've received tickets to the Baltimore Grand Prix, I'll be attending Preakness, so it will be an all-Baltimore year for me.

Synopsis Writing

2010-12-20T15:26:00.005-05:00

Recently, I've found a ton of information that I'm regarding very dear right now. The blog Guide to Literary Agents has been indispensable. I've begun polishing my query letter, put together a nice long synopsis, and I'm revising a one-page synopsis. I plan on querying as of the new year.

I'm feeling very, very confident. And with a superb Ravens win yesterday, it's been a good week. Until last night. I was hit with a severe fever out of nowhere, and broke down with the shakes. Luckily my girlfriend was there to nurse me back to health in the middle of the night.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

2010-12-18T11:52:00.006-05:00

Merry Christmas. I'm off to play with my new toy. And I plan on writing the day away beside the tree with my girl and my dog and watching The Fearless Vampire Killers on the iPad. And eating lots of Nutty Bars. And pills. Okay, Merry Christmas everybody!

Query Letter

2010-12-18T11:28:00.002-05:00

I sat down last night and crafted a whole new query letter. One hundred-fifty thousand words funneled down into one paragraph. Eek. Well, if I can't pitch my book in one small letter, perhaps this thing's not worth getting published, let alone reading.

I'm thinking about printing the manuscript and sending it to DAW books the way it is. I've edited it about as much as I personally can. I've joined an online writing workshop, but so far had no reviews. Paying a book doctor at this point might be too expensive. And I haven't been rejected by a publishing house in over a year or two. But, I've yet to query agents in the past year or two, the time that this story's had some major revising done.

Popping a couple pills tonight and getting to work. Weird that I haven't lost inspiration in the seven years that this story, in one form or another, has been revised and edited.

Vampires of Castle Disney

2010-12-09T00:18:00.002-05:00

So, there is this story floating around in my head, and it goes like this:

Cartoon Dracula is depressed. His wife, Mina, has left him for America. He is contemplating a sun-baked death when he receives word that Mina is co-mingling with a French vampire in New Orleans. Determined to win back his love, Cartoon Dracula leaves on a boat ("Demeter," of course) and sets off for the Big Easy.

Upon entering New Orleans, Cartoon Dracula is assailed by a trio of young, cocky (and depressed, in Edvard's case) vampires. After hearing that the vampire king himself was arriving in their adopted city, Lesnot rounds up his coven to entertain their sacred ancestor and progenitor.

And this is the beginning of the synopsis for a Disney-inspired mash-up of vampire fiction I've been fooling around with. I really have no idea how one query's the great Disney, but I'm finding this story to be fun, regardless.

Resources and Rewriting

2010-11-29T18:01:00.003-05:00

Over the past few days I have found incredible resources on the web. First, I may have found help with the manuscript editing services, care of Michael Garrett. During our first email correspondence, I felt that Mr. Garrett may be the perfect person for the job, if he so chooses to take on my story. There's always the possibility that he will decline to edit my work, but I have listened to his advice immediately, and begun implementing some changes already.

Next, there's the Guide to Literary Agents blog, with invaluable advice all over the place. Since my last attempt with the art of the query letter, I've learned so much. Now, after the revisions to my story (from 150,000 words to nearly 100,000 goal), I can begin to search once again for a literary agent.

I'll keep you updated as always, dear lonely blog.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

2010-11-21T19:35:00.005-05:00

I really should've given this show a chance when it first debuted, because I am really very addicted now. Initially I immediately shunned the show due to it seemingly obvious imitating of TWILIGHT, and badly. More young, brooding and handsome vampires walking in the sun was an insult to vampire lore, but then things were explained slowly, and I took the bait. Now I'm hooked, after having just finished Season One. And after the chaotic conclusion of Season Three of TRUE BLOOD, this is a surprisingly great vampire TV show.

Damon Salvatore is one of the coolest anti-hero vampires around, and the use of fog in his early appearances was a pleasant ploy to my fanboy psyche. And Elaina Gilbert/Catherine now moves to #4 on my Halloween list of hottest vampires. I would say that my only gripe with the plot is how many vampires are given the deus ex machina gift of sun protection...

Anyway, now onto Season Two episodes courtesy of iTunes.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

2010-10-06T15:00:00.028-04:00

Well it's that wonderful time of year again, my favorite holiday - Halloween! It really should be a month-long event, not just celebrated on the 31st, in my opinion. And as I'm in my vampire-marathon watching mode currently, I got to thinking about how many hot vampires there are in film and television. These are women I would welcome into my bed, shower, or coffin before they could even glamour me. So, my favorites list is reserved this Halloween for hottest (female) vampires.

#1 Hottest Female Vampire
Evan Rachel Wood,
A.K.A Sophie-Anne, Vampire Queen of Louisiana

Sophie-Anne is simply breathtaking. She is beautiful beyond words. Granted her character has become quite useless in the third season of True Blood, Evan Rachel remains sexy during her few scenes. Her pale-as-milk skin and red hair give her an angelic, divine quality.

#2 Hottest Female Vampire
Alyson Hannigan,
A.K.A. Vampire Willow

Willow was my teenage fantasy: quiet, unassuming and shy. Intelligent and quirky, she was everything I liked about girls. And she was hot. And one of my favorite episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was the alternative-reality spectacle, "The Wish". It's also exciting when Vamp Willow gets fresh with her living, human Willow counterpart...

#3 Hottest Female Vampire

Kate Beckinsale,

A.K.A. Selene

Selene's eyes change colors with her emotions, while the Underworld films remain shrouded in hues of blue. Her skin-tight leather suit suits the fantasy, pardon the pun. Kate gets bonus points for playing a part in two vampire films (Van Helsing).

SHIT day

2010-09-18T12:00:00.006-04:00

Last night was even shittier. The O's blow a 9th inning lead to the Yankees, and their fans cheered me right out of the Yard--right out of my own ballpark. That home run hurt, Koji.

Today I've learned that life is rough in the service industry. It was a lesson that I had perhaps forgotten over time. The only thing that has gotten me through the day is the fact that I will soon be walking along the old Oaks of New Orleans. Perhaps I'll visit a murky swamp stuffed with creeping cypresses. Or maybe spot a ghost in Jean Lafitte's...

Well, it's back to the Yard tonight.

MNF

2010-09-14T12:41:00.004-04:00

Last night I witnessed the grittiest football game ever. The Ravens barely won a defensive grudge match filled with tempers worthy of a Superbowl. I'm exhausted from merely watching this game. But Baltimore's purple birds won, and I feel somehow much better for it... Oh yeah, the O's knocked in a walk-off run in extra innings nearly the same moment to win, again.

New Orleans looks to be a reality, though we should miss Halloween by one evening. Regardless, we will once more be staying on St Charles Ave. Perhaps my last visit to New Orleans for a while, I vowed to read the final Vampire Chronicles book, BLOOD CANTICLE once and for all. Years ago, when I learned that Anne Rice would not continue these novels, I promised not to finish the series, fearing some finality in completing them. But as I read BLACKWOOD FARM now, I remember how I fell in love with her stories in the first place. And it seems fitting that I finish the possible final book in the series in New Orleans.

My sentimental side can often get the best of me...

Back to New Orleans

2010-09-09T23:01:00.003-04:00

New Orleans is calling out to me like a siren's song, tempting me with her striking, ancient beauty with promises of a glimpse of something special, something supernatural. I don't know what it is, this feeling, but I felt something like it after I left the city. Once home, I had this feeling in my gut that I had just lost a friend, abandoned a sibling. And I say this with the utmost sincerity. I truly missed walking along St Charles Ave or Bourbon Street. Sitting in Cafe Du Monde or the Garden District Book Store or sitting on the banks of the Mississippi. The food, the smells, the architecture, but there was something more. It was feeling that underneath all of that fiction there was something in New Orleans that transcends this reality. There was a child-like hope that things that go bump in the night exist, here.

The very first New Orleanian we conversed with was at our hotel on St Charles Ave, and he implored us not to touch the cats, for they would steal our souls, trapping us inside a feline eternity, if we so much as pet them. Now, this pissed me off. How could someone be so mean as to tell such a ridiculous story and keep strangers and tourists from petting adorable, hungry cats? And how ridiculous still it was for me not to pet the cat, for fear that his story was actually true! But this was New Orleans, I told myself quietly, and heeded his words.

That cat, a cute, kind black cat (go figure) was at the foot of the door step every moment I opened it. And I fed him milk every chance I got. But I did not once lay a finger on his soft fur...

Where Have You Been, Blog?

2010-08-13T17:02:00.002-04:00

It's been quite a while since I've posted to you, blog. And for that I am sorry, but not really. It's been a whirlwind of summer, and I have had little time for writing. Sad, sure--but I've got a new pad, new dog, and a new job (maybe, just maybe, a career). But I miss the book. I miss the story. Every night I contemplate watching the O's (lose another game) or opening the file of my story, and I usually always choose baseball. Not because baseball means more to me than my story, no, that's not it. The story possibly means more to me than anything else. It's the lack of numbness I associate with writing that I have been missing. And dear blog, excuse me, but I've been writing here long enough for you to see right through my vagueness--you know what I mean. And without the help of this optimistic numbness it is ever harder to enjoy that world I've created, the world I continue to shape in my mind but sparingly never on paper (or on the computer).

Maybe once the summer slows down and creeps into autumn I can find both the numbness and the strength to enter that world again. I'm really running out of excuses...

Today is Raining

2010-05-17T10:33:00.008-04:00

Things rarely change, right? So after not posting here to this dear, dear diary of a blog for a while, things are probably not a whole lot different. Well yes and no. I'm definitely in a better position, a career, than I was before. Now I spend most of my time working on getting into a new home so that maybe I can get back to work on DISPLACED. The Orioles still suck, and yet I stay with them always, always... Addiction, to whatever, is probably the most ridiculous mountain you could ever hope to climb. It reminds me of the literal mountain in Vampire Hunter D: Raiser of Gales in which curious humans begin a climb to the castle ruins above, only to remain stuck in a timeless void, climbing for eternity entrenched in a hopeless bubble never to reach the top. So to say that I've gone days without that precious synthetic optimism would be meaningless. Who cares? It could be with me for decades. Perhaps it's the journey of ridding myself of the stuff that I'm doing all wrong? I need a whole new approach.

As a side note: the aforementioned castle on a hill is probably the biggest influence on this story in all of the vampire literature I've read. It seemed amazing the possibilities of science in the future, and this moment in chapter 1 coerced me to write what I want to write, no matter how plausible today. Aint Science Fiction great?

While things are really going much better for me as of late, it's the story that I am missing most. Strange feeling it is to find comfort in a fictional world, but with depression comes escape. So, while I'm not suffering so much these warm spring days, I still want to get away, back into that ficitional Baltimore where creatures of the night stir and there is this obstensible air of adventure in the air, and the seasons can change on my whim alone.

Free, Almost Free

2010-03-27T20:16:00.002-04:00

I was actually free of the endless traps of pills for over two weeks... and then I slipped. Luckily, I couldn't binge or indulge further. But it's getting better. Granted I was sick for most of it, but I survived.

New Title

2010-03-23T20:43:00.003-04:00

I have been gone awhile, again, and there has been so much goin on during this time... But I don't want to talk about that. I want to mention that I've changed the title for UNIQUE to The Displaced Vampire.

Maybe the change is pointless, I don't know. But I wanted to freshen this thing up, and maybe light another fire under my literary ass. THE UNIQUE DESTRUCTION OF AN ORDINARY SOUL sounded great to me, but perhaps it was a bit too long.

Near Perfection

2010-01-29T17:15:00.005-05:00

Near Dark is perhaps the most underrated genre film of all time, let alone in vampire canon. I've watched it in back-to-back weekends now, enamored with the sinister '80s score, the pure bloody violence that makes you wince, the almost lovingly way in which Kathryn Bigelow caresses vampire mythology and the American Western. In short, the film rocks.

I bring this up because I realize that I failed to mention it on this blog before. My only gripe is the Deus Ex Machina ending, but it was the 1980s, so I can forgive it. A film this gritty just couldn't be produced today. The way that Mae listens to the night, accepting her immortality as she looks at the stars wistfully inspires cold chills. Subtle scenes like this build upon one another to make it a quintessential vampire film.

When it was released in 1987, it was overshadowed by the more popular The Lost Boys, which was to be expected. But these two films coerced Hollywood to make more serious vampire flicks. I could write for hours how much I love The Lost Boys like the good lil vampire fanboy that I am, but who doesn't like that film?

This isn't a review, no, not by any means. This is just me telling to you, whoever reads this thing, to go out and watch Near Dark. It's one of the few gems in vampire film that make the whole genre interesting at all.

Hell Week

2010-01-22T14:47:00.004-05:00

Seven sleepless nights, tossing and turning, had become unbearable. I figured I had had this thing beat, but today I gave into the pull of desperation, and now, at this moment, I feel great - not a hint of shame, just numb acceptance and finally the ability to sleep, to relax. To stop thinking about it for a few hours, at least.

White pills are keeping me up at night. Hopefully it will be only the vampires tonight.

Portland Vampire Masquerade Ball

2010-01-18T19:00:00.003-05:00

I have always wanted to visit Portland. I've been to Seattle, and it was a beautiful welcome to the Pacific Northwest. So visiting the areas second largest city - which is somehow no less artistic - would obviously be a pleasure, as well.

Having no real inclination to attend this Vampire Masquerade Ball, I nonetheless wanted to mention it, in case I do in fact manage to attend this thing. Though the masquerade masks and such make me remember Eyes Wide Shut and the potential sex party this ball could break out to be... The web site is beautiful. Check it out:

Vampire Masquerade Ball

I'm About To Break

2010-01-18T16:07:00.004-05:00

I may have found the breaking point. Everyone has one, and mine may have been slowly eating away at me for years, but I fear - nay, I rejoice! - that I may have found mine!

I have been patient enough, I believe. I have took every punch, every broken bone, and every set-back and rolled with it, absorbed it, and I hope become a better man for it. Sometimes it's hard to keep getting up. However, that doesn't mean I won't get up again.

I need a fantasy factory. I need my own place to absorb inspiration, instead of calamity. Losing my job was potentially one of the best things to happen to me, but if I fail to make the best of it, it will have been for nothing. But I need a new avenue for finding an literary agent, or an editor.

I, I, I, I, I, iaiaiaiaii!

I have lacked academic and employment success. I am once again at the very bottom struggling my way back to something with a little more optimism. I am like the undead, crawling my way through six feet of dark, pliant earth reaching for the waxing moon, inexorably toward something better than this.

I just pray that Buffy isn't there when I rise again...

New Year

2010-01-05T14:51:00.002-05:00

No, dear online diary and blog, I am not dead, nor have I given up on you or my book, for that matter. I have only taken an extended absence while I figured out what the hell I will do for a living now.

Well no, I didn't figure that out yet. Time will tell if I ever do or not. Finally I have gotten out of the latest in a long line of dead-end jobs, and have been given the ability to stay at home, with pay no less, and write and polish and write some more. And polish some more.

2010 is off to a fantastic start, I would say. My education, not so much. But that's for another post...

New Orleans

2009-11-04T15:51:00.004-05:00

The Big Easy eventually became quite magical, but at first I was far from impressed. Perhaps it was the white pill that helped, or maybe I just needed to get out from behind the wheel, but I was immediately disappointed with NOLA while getting lost on her elevated highways.

Once we settled our things into our hotel room, we walked around outside and I found the city to be exactly what I was hoping for. Once the sun dipped below the skyline, we took the St. Charles Ave streetcar onto Canal and crossed over onto Bourbon St. From street corner one there were folks playing zydeco and jazz, and the smell of cigar smoke and alcohol flooded my senses further. We found ourselves on a second story latticed balcony eating an oyster po’boy and puffin on a cigar while watching the magnificent spectacle that is the inebriated human being.

A couple of blocks away from our hotel is the Garden District. These homes are mind-boggling brilliance of early colonial American architecture that’s a nice compliment to the French homes on the other side of Esplanade. Of course I paid my own tribute to a former house of Anne Rice on the corner of Chestnut, and peacefully we roamed the above-ground tombs of Lafayette Cemetery as the sun began to set. I carried my original copy of The Vampire Lestat with me in my pocket as we left the Garden District care of Prytania Street.

The next night was the Tru Blood and Gold Ball, and the event wasn’t close to a disappointment. Upon entering Republic New Orleans, the venue, Charlaine Harris walked right up to my girlfriend, said hi in that perfectly gentle southern way, and T was quiet and star-struck. With Anne Rice in California, Charlaine was awarded the “Queen of New Orleans.” My girlfriend purchased raffle tickets that landed us four signed Anne Rice books, including Interview with the Vampire (which I didn’t have in HC). She was so excited that I was happier with her reaction of winning than the books that we won.

During the day we spent our time walking still, and people watching from the awning of Café du Monde, eating delicious beignets and drinking café au laits. I could’ve spent all day reading in Jackson Square just beneath the St. Louis Cathedral. The wind gusted across the Mississippi and the tropical weather was like a sweaty heaven for me. Our last day, we were again on Prytania at the Garden District Book Shop for Charlaine’s book signing.

And with that we headed home. For some reason unexplainable I’m having separation anxiety from New Orleans. Sure, Memphis was a blast, as was the entire 38 hour driving time, but something is still with me from New Orleans that I cannot shake.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

2009-10-23T16:08:00.009-04:00

Last Halloween I picked my favorite three vampire films. Today I figured I should pick my fave three vampire books. These are in order, but can be changed from emotion to emotion, or night to night. In lieu of my upcoming trip to New Orleans, Anne Rice’s brat prince comes in at numero uno vampiro.

#3 is Bram Stoker’s Dracula. He is, after all, the king of vampires, the “Sacred Ancestor”. While werewolves and zombies have been trying to take a bite out of his omnipresent undead ass as the king of pop culture horror for years now, it’s still his and the children of the night’s party, this holiday we call Halloween. And no single book or character has been as influential in the deluge of Hollywood films and literature the past several decades as the daddy of them all. Dracula is absolutely as iconic as Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, or perhaps more appropriate, the Devil himself.

#2 Vampire Hunter D Volume 2: Raiser of Gales is my Lord of the Rings, my Star Wars and Harry Potter all rolled into one uber-dork fest of vampire novels. It’s Sci Fi, fantasy and horror rolled into one, and this combo makes for one hell of a cool story. D can be a bit one-dimensional at times, with his talking hand stealing most of the scenes, and especially since the volumes are into the teens, but that’s his meal ticket, and the baddies throughout these stories talk about him in the past tense as they hold him in the same regards as a god, as the father and king of all vampires, Dracula. The little things make this novel special to me and it’s the way that Hideyuki Kikuchi presents the infinite vampire science as magic. That’s what made the hairs on my arms stand on-end as I read this story. The translation by Kevin Leahy is outstanding, but I only wish I could read it in the native Japanese…

#1 The Vampire Lestat, of course, is my favorite vampire book to sit by warm candlelight with a bottle of pills – I mean bottle of wine – and read the night away. Like I’ve mentioned elsewhere before, I can put the homo eroticism aside and enjoy the story for what it is: a fantastic vampire tale spanning centuries. No where has there ever been a group (or coven, as it were) of vampires that are so depressed with their Dark Gift, i.e. immortality. Some people just don’t know how good they got it! But it’s the way that they all attract each other, and yet repel one other so much that defines their existence. Loneliness is personified in Lestat in that he has an insatiable appetite for knowledge, and smugly believes that the secrets of the universe are owed to him simply because he is preternatural. And it’s this vanity which ultimately brings God and the devil to his doorstep.

Anne Rice, the Queen of the Vampires

2009-10-22T13:11:00.001-04:00

So I’ve spoken with Anne Rice. It was via email, but I was excited nonetheless. Anne was very nice, pleasant and respectful. She responded quickly to my email, too. Within hours… Before I realized that she no longer lived in New Orleans (somehow I forgot this important little fact) I asked her if it would be a possibility to have my original copy of The Vampire Lestat signed by her. I’m usually not one for autographs, but I figured while I was in her New Orleans, I would give it a shot. Now, I did not ask to meet her in person; no, I flat out said that I could place it in her mailbox or P.O. My intention was never to seem like another stalker-fan.

Basically she said no, at the moment, but it was understandable. She is inundated with book-signing requests, and it apparently became out of control, the eBay enterprise. But she even requested that I contact her again in the near future, and that hopefully by then she would have a system in place to accommodate my request.

Just the fact that she even replied to my little letter made me lover her even more for it. She’s an amazing woman, and probably the best writer I have ever had the pleasure of reading. So this is basically just my small shout-out to her, the Queen of the Vampires.

God bless you, Anne Rice.

The Vampire Lestat and Philosophy

2009-10-12T10:43:00.000-04:00

So I’ve been re-reading The Vampire Lestat again, and I’m wondering how much this book in particular fashioned some of my ideas about the world and life, or if I simply enjoyed the character and the Vampire Chronicles so much because my attitudes towards death and Heaven and Hell are so similar to Lestat’s?

I first read the book in 1997. That’s about the same time I was coming up with my own anti-God, anti-Christian musings. And you know, I’m actually kind of worse off for it all. I mean, like Lestat mentions before being turned, blue skies are never quite as blue since I began to question these things. Sure, I’m not always doom and gloom, but the world changed the moment I began to question everything, the moment I realized, if you will, that there isn’t anything after this. And that is the hardest thing to believe. This mentality empirically reveals that living is the hardest thing of all to do. We’re the ones with regrets and worry and anger, while those who pass are consigned to a peaceful yet unaware nothingness. They do not have memories of the life they left behind, and we the living are the only ones to mourn this loss.

But isn’t it great to be alive and see a blue sky at all, no matter what the shade or season? I’ve learned in a very short time that life is precious, no matter what is out there after our heart stops beating and we either are placed in the ground or ashes are scattered in some beautiful place, it’s all worth it. Every single minute of it.

Looking at life this way has only one curse: life goes by quickly. But I’m enjoying it nonetheless. With every book I read or song I listen to or every time I make love, I’m having the time of my life.

Tru Blood & Gold Ball

2009-10-09T17:00:00.005-04:00

We are headed to the Vampire Lestat Fan Club’s annual gathering, dubbed for 2009 Tru Blood and Gold Ball. Obviously there’s a nod to Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse books and Anne Rice’s later Vampire Chronicles books. An ideal title considering that Charlaine will be at this year’s ball. Personally I’m stoked! I’ve tried for years to get to New Orleans for the ball, and I will finally be there this Halloween. This is a revelation. I've been re-reading The Vampire Lestat in anticipation, and I've started the sequel to Fat White Vampire Blues, called Bride of the Fat White Vampire.

I will be costumed as one of Charlaine's characters, a simpleton undead Elvis Presley called Bubba. An Elvis wig, Elvis glasses and pair of vampire fangs are the gist of my costume, and my lovely hot-assed girlfriend will be a Merlotte’s-garbed Sookie.

Wow, walking around New Orleans during Halloween. I pray for fog… This is going to be great. If you're interested check out the fan club: Vampire Lestat Fan Club

An Evening With El Diablo

2009-09-26T19:43:00.003-04:00

Out there is getting darker, grayer by the moment. A sprinkle of rain is falling now. It’s chilly out there. But in here, it’s warm, exacerbated by the glow of yellow light above me. Before me is the manuscript. Beside me is a single white pill. Both affect me differently, but haunt me just the same. Chevelle’s bass line strums my synapses into anticipated euphoria.

This is the moment that makes whatever I do worthwhile. Whether I begin striking keys into forming words and paragraphs or sitting stoned in front of racing images on the muted television, it’s all the same. It flies by quickly, and I wonder during each and every second of it, “How long will it last this time?”

Doesn't matter. I keep writing. Later, I'll be drinking, and I'll have other questions that need answers.

Self Publication

2009-09-16T13:19:00.000-04:00

After years of half-assedly searching for literary agents and publishers for my first novel (UNIQUE, which is still not as mint and perfect as I’d like it to be) I’m starting to feel like self-publishing is the way to go. I never began writing this novel for the sole glory of hitting the publishing lottery. No, I started this story for myself, and eventually for other people like me to enjoy; people who are into comics, vampires, and sex. So if I never have the gratification of receiving an acceptation letter in the mail from some big New York publishing house, should that really hurt my chances of becoming a published author and sharing my story?

Football Days

2009-09-14T12:48:00.002-04:00

Okay, today’s pretty good. I’m pilled up, Ravens would kind of a shocking week 1 game at home yesterday, and the boss is on vacation. The weather’s good and, well, class isn’t too out of control yet. Double header Monday Night Football tonight and I’m off tomorrow.

I must find time to write in WITNESS tomorrow! All my hopes and dreams hinge on publishing these books. Planning for Memphis and New Orleans has taken up a lot of my time, but that's cool.

Summer's Dead; Long Live Summer!

2009-09-09T15:35:00.001-04:00

The O’s complete another losing season in a week or two. My hypochondria seems to be getting worse, and I’m back on the white optimism. I haven’t even thought about either UNIQUE or WITNESS since classes began. One good thing coming up is the trip to Memphis and New Orleans in the end of October with Theresa in our first road trip in the Mustang. And at least football’s back this weekend. Finally a team from Baltimore to cheer for that wins.

Anyway, this has been easily the quickest summer of my life. The coolest, too. I’m quite blown away, really. I’ve stopped drinking, hanging with friends, and generally doing anything. Things are great with my GF. But I wonder if maybe I am just depressed. As you may know, I’m not fond at all of the word or its definition; but what else could it be. I’ve even lost my appetite and cravings for food! Today I eat only out of habit and for sustenance. This is both good and bad.

Panic

2009-08-05T15:35:00.000-04:00

I've all but forgotten about my stories. For some reason a severe case of ADD has taken over my psyche, and I can't think straight most days. I've come down with a bad case of hypochondria (sic) and I feel like something's wrong with me. Maybe it's withdrawal, I do not know. I've been taking the big X for these crazy panic attacks. You'd think it's the end of the world or something. Sat in the Emergency Room for four hours yesterday, and finally walked out when my headache was long gone.

Something's gotta change or I'm gonna go pop.

2009-07-27T16:40:00.001-04:00

Baseball and vampires have bored me lately. The Singularity, this has not bored me. I pray I'm around to witness it. I assume I'll be in my 70s when it occurs. It: cognitive artificial intelligence.

Dream. Last night.

2009-07-08T12:06:00.001-04:00

I was young again, maybe 6 years old. Walking home from school, I suppose, a car pulled up beside me. I remember it as a brown station wagon - there was some orange in there too - and the passenger door opened. I cried. I don't remember what was being said to me, but I was supposed to get in the car. I didn't want to get in.

But I did. Then I realized that it was the driver was family, and I thought to myself "it's okay." When we arrived home, I stepped out of the car, and when I closed the door, I was no longer a child in Elementary school. I was an adult and I bowed over in pain. I think I shivered. But there was this howl, or scream, and I stood up looking in all directions like a prairie dog. And I took off running. Though I never looked behind me, I could feel arms reaching for me, gaining on me, and I couldn't run any faster or any longer as the pain in my right leg gave way and I toppled over.

I face planted in the dirt, and closed my eyes. When I came to a stop, I was laying on the floor in my room, supine and sweating. Frantically I got to my feet, checked my leg that it was okay - it was - and looked all around the room. You know what I was looking for. But I didn't find it.

I crawled back into the cool bed and listened to the hypnotizing hum of the fan and prayed for sleep.

Self-Destruction

2009-07-06T13:22:00.003-04:00

One week free of the menacing, ethereal grip of the wonder pill, and then I blow it. Well it's no longer the vampires keeping me up at night, but then, you already knew that. Now it's sudden panic attacks just when I turn the light out. Something terrible haunts me right when I close my eyes, and I feel my heart pounding in my chest, vibrating through the matress and beating in my ears.

Trust me, it won't take much longer for me to see the Dr. There could soon possibly be another wonder pill in my near future if this sticks around...

Climax

2009-07-02T13:32:00.003-04:00

Well as I was out for my daily walk last night and I came up with a beautiful ending for WITNESS! That's it, it's done...or just about, anyways. I concluded the story in a nice way of wrapping up the first two a bit better. The lightning was flashing all around me (quite close, indeed) and it just hit me. Not the lightning, well - in a way the lightning, but the ending was written as soon as I got in.

And this third day without harmful substances in my body isn't so bad. It's amazing, really, how things change so quickly...

On the Roller Coaster of Reality

2009-07-01T20:00:00.003-04:00

The highs and lows continue. For instance, last night the Orioles came back from down 10 runs to beat the high and mighty Sox. Yes, that was astounding. Today, however, they lose in the top of the 9th with a four-run lead.

I have been several days without white optimism, and I think tomorrow - the third day successively without them - will be the hardest. But this mentality will probably change when tomorrow night comes.

I am planning our Halloween in New Orleans. I am waiting anxiously for that first evening walking amongst the Passed as the chills crawl along my arms and the smell of Cajun cooking lures me into another spot, my ears tingling with the tunes of saxophones and trumpets. I'm wondering, though, how all of this will be experienced if I do not have the added comfort of P.

HIGH & low

2009-06-04T13:43:00.002-04:00

Well the O's had something special goin on, and they blew it. No surprise there. But then I received my grades for the semester, and I earned a D in one class. That grade was a joke. So whatever, there.

But now, I found myself in a full-blown creative episode the past couple days, in regards to WITNESS. I practically designed the entire ending, and to me, it was awesome. It came full circle in many ways, and I was happy and excited just writing every paragraph.

So the Orioles can suck it; my American History teacher can suck it. Summer is here and I'm creative so it's all good...

2009-05-24T12:40:00.001-04:00

Despite the O's getting swept out of New York, they have since won two games in DC. And despite the impending rain, I'm looking forward to a good Memorial Day with my friends, plenty of hot dogs and beer. And I've been writing WITNESS all morning. Class is done for the summer, and it appears I have gotten decent grades. Now, I relax for three days off...

2009-05-18T12:54:00.001-04:00

So I sent Evander and his host to Saturn last night. I'm writing a really beautiful and exciting piece of WITNESS at present, so I can't wait to get back to it this evening.

2009-05-15T16:43:00.001-04:00

WITNESS has been stagnated by last week's preparation for finals. Thankfully this semester is over Tuesday. It's killing my creativity.

2009-05-08T10:17:00.001-04:00

I'm beginning to show all of the signs of a genius. I'm recluse, somewhat bi-polar, and quite prone to these lil white pills of optimism. My work ethic is near obsessive compulsive.
If only the talent was there... And just in case you don't know, dear diary, I'm full of shit.

2009-05-05T09:21:00.001-04:00

The more I write the more I see my intentions, in regards to the plot of WITNESS, of the two scales: the outright grand and the human experience.

2009-05-03T09:04:00.001-04:00

It's early and raining. Were going to brunch soon. I'm listening to Coldplay's LOST! and I've decided on placing two climaxes in WITNESS, one fairly early on and as there is two stories being told, another at the end.
Well I'm hungry so I'm off...

Lovely Weather

2009-04-24T14:16:00.000-04:00

In the midst of the prettiest week of the year - it's sunny and 70! - I have a dark cloud hanging over me. Apparently there is a target on my back at work because I was sick enough to get a check up. Shocking how you can be given Sick Days, and then chastised for using them...

Regardless, I'm feeling a little better. Don't know where the bout of wooziness came from, but it seems to be dissipating. Writing WITNESS has been fun. I'm goin to the Yard on Sunday; supposedly it will be in the 80s! Life could be worse, but I wouldn't know it with weather like this.

2009-04-22T17:45:00.001-04:00

Today was...interesting. Power went out at work so I left half a day. As the power went out, we had a downpour with hail. Abrubtly it stopped and gave way for the bluest sky in literally 2 seconds.
And I'm very anxiety free. I feel very good about a lot of things, most notably Witness.

2009-04-20T11:16:00.001-04:00

I'm blogging from the iPhone today. Can't write at the moment, but I have a clear head. Pill overload this past weekend. Sober but in pain today. Mistve come with the rain...
I will be studying tonight, but I'm sure I'll open up Witness too.

2009-04-19T21:19:00.001-04:00

Well the assimilation of the original Book 2 and what I had envisioned for the series's finale has begun to come together really well. I'm happy with it. I now have direction. The scope of the book is epic. 30 pages down.

Witness

2009-04-17T11:44:00.004-04:00

While UNIQUE marinates... (Some notes:)

My plan for the series AFTER MAN was to conclude the story way far in the future, thousands of years. That's one of the reasons I wanted to write vampire stories - they can live quite a long life if they're careful enough. So, what kind of world would these creatures inhabit 10,000 years after mankind relinquished power? Turns out, that's a work in progress.

But this is how I wanted to introduce the second novel. I wanted it to begin in the far future, because personally I don't want to wait 20 years for the opportunity to write what I want to write today. So, the limited pages of notes I have for the finale will be Incorporated to Book 2. I'm okay with this, I guess. Book 2's plot is only a few decades after the first story, but I wanted a way to time travel these characters without a time machine.

Now, Book 2's plot deals mostly with Evander's search for Tammie - directly where we leave off in UNIQUE, and his revenge for the two that took her away from him in the final pages. But I wanted to develop more of a mind trip for this second story, so the relationship between Evander and Gideon (who is now more or less Dracula; it's out of the box at this point) is seen at its height and near-climax. Dracula's inventions over the past twenty thousand years (he was around, it was estimated, for ten thousand years before the events of UNIQUE) have led him all over the universe. He is no longer confined to Earth or our reality. He has opened a domain where the other side (death) is a complete reality parrelled to our own; the spiral arms of our Milky Way are his borders now, and he is constantly using his EGG to get back and forth from all of these unimaginable places and times.

Evander has become enthralled with Dracula's powers, so much so that he looks at him like a god with the power to get Evander back to a different place. The years have begun to warp his mind, and he wants something simple again. Like mortality. So Book 2 (WITNESS) begins with Evander reminiscing about a dream he once had where he was watching a snowfall. These countless white flakes were everywhere, but then they began to form into vampires. It was an analogy for the reality-warp he had found in immortality. But now, these snowflakes were stars, and he is once again taken back by the powers that Dracula wields. And he confronts him that it was never meant to be for human-like beings to have this type of power. And it is insinuated that he and Dracula are somewhere near the center of the Milky Way as Dracula asks Evander a simple question. This question leads directly into the plot of Book 2. Which will lead directly into Book 3. Which will, I hope, lead into Book 4. But now I'm getting way too far ahead of myself.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that I received Tor's rejection letter the other day? Huh...

Spring Turns Me On!

2009-04-05T10:05:00.004-04:00

These days, it's hard to get out of the house. If it isn't money, it's depression, or just plain old laziness. But with the arrival of Spring, I have no choice. I simply cannot sit in the house all of the time. The warmer weather is an aphrodisiac for me. And the warm weather also brings back baseball. So yesterday I spent the day at Oriole Park at Camden Yards for the Orioles FanFest. Apart from the gale-force winds, it was an incredible day. There were loads of fans in orange and black, and I personally got to see our new pitcher Koji Uehara! My nephew and my friend's son got along wonderfully and I'm sunburned (or windburned, I'm not sure).

Weather like this is the only thing that certifiably quaffs my depression.

Oh, and on another note, I've just finished my cover letter and resume for potential internship at Baltimore Magazine. But, right now, it's beautiful out, and I'm going to enjoy it. Till next time...

Let Me Just Say This

2009-03-27T13:02:00.001-04:00

You know the saying, "It could be worse," right? And I understand it. Hell, I live it! I am absolutely the last person you would call ungrateful. I feel blessed, for lack of a better word. But I wonder sometimes just how mental I really am. Maybe it's just American culture. I'm the bi-product of decades of televisional (did I just create a new adjective?) violence and heroism and drama and love. So I often wonder what the big deal with life is all about. Before I get too deep, I'll explain.

Via television or comic books or novels or whatever, only ghosts, robots, vampires, aliens and probably God exists. Here, in our reality, all of this stuff is science fiction. Well, that leaves a sour taste in my mouth sometimes. I mean, how boring is our reality really? While the cosmos completely make me rethink everything that I know and believe, here on Earth life is far from extraordinary. There are no men in blue and red tights flying through our soaring skyscrapers and saving us from villains. There are no space ships in our galaxy fighting for the survival of the human race from the icy-steel grips of robots (that we're aware of, I understand the limits of our telescopes). And there are no lingering undead in the foggy mists of our cemeteries (that I've encountered, at least).

What got me thinking about all of this is the fact that life is quite stagnant. Wouldn't you agree? I mean, since 1945 has there been anything to threaten the lives of everyday people here in the States? The Cold War was officially frozen in 1989 and averted nuclear war. Apparently astronomers haven't found that comet that would end life on Earth as we know it. And Satan seems satisfied lounging languidly in the pages of paper where he's been for two-thousand years... Life, when you look at it objectionably, is boring. And while the survivor's of airplane crashes, floods and hurricanes and genocide would tell me to fuck off, I'm just saying: When the hell is that giant spaceship coming to Earth? When are we going to experience something that just shocks us off our collective feet? I'm not looking for something catastrophic here. Just something that makes all six and a half billion of us expel a breathy "Wow."

And so, I write. And not very well, or not that much, but I write. Maybe this is the reason a lot of people become writers. Maybe some of us are just fed up with the boring throes of day-to-day living. I know personally that the daily grind is painful, and save for some really fun drugs, writing is the only way out. And with the finale of Battlestar Galactica, I've been left in a void. Wow, you probably said aloud, what a shame. Well, yes - television does mean that much to me. A very small percentage of it, anyway. And now I realize what an amazing story that it was is all over and what it did for me; but more than that, I begin to see that, even with my confidence in my own abilities, I may not have that talent to create amazing stories like that. And this is far from a bad thing. What this proves to me is that perhaps our world isn't as boring as sometimes I want to believe. I may have to come to the realization that I am lazy and that all the talent in the world isn't going to matter if I don't start writing.

Or, I just continue to watch lots of television, whatever.

Printed Script

2009-03-21T10:02:00.002-04:00

Holy wow is this script huge! It's towering... I've printed out the entire script so that I can revise a hard copy. I've picked up a composition book, and I'm going to dig in this weekend.

REVISE, REVISE, REVISE, and SELL!

2009-03-20T10:22:00.001-04:00

Well I've been doing everything but the thing that means the most to me - writing. Other than spending time with my girlfriend. Hi sweetie!

UNIQUE has sat for long enough. I pulled it out of cyber-purgatory and printed it out, so that I may make some hard revisions. I guess now's the time, because I started to miss the story, the characters. For me, that was cue enough...

The screenplay project, the MARVEL project - these things will be there, but I don't have the strong emotional desire to work on them as much. So it's back to the book that is so much a part of me.

Oh yeah, it's the first day of Spring! Sweet...

Blushed Right Out Of My Chair

2009-03-11T16:42:00.005-04:00

Bitter disappointment today. Marvel apparently no longer accept writing solicitations. A week ago it was, blah blah "Marvel is always looking for talent" and now it's "Marvel no longer accepts submissions."

What a kick in the ass. Granted I haven't received replies from both of my letters to them, but I'm sure with this news I can now look forward to not hearing from them at all.

Huge waste of my time it was even writing the submission. I honestly worked up something so well-written that I unbiasedly attest is much better than most of the stuff coming out in the medium today. But this is me being bitterly in denial, so I'll shut the hell up presently.

Good day to you all.

As of Today...

2009-02-20T13:42:00.002-05:00

Nothing is certainly new. My fingers are still crossed, regarding Marvel. I really think I put together an ambitious letter inquiry for them. Now, if I could just get them to want to see my writing...

If not, I will do my best to overwhelm their mail department with inquiry letters for the next few weeks. Eventually, someone's going to write back.

I still haven't touched UNIQUE. This has to be a good thing. This is the longest I have gone without opening up the story and fixing something.

The movie script project has been without attention lately, too. How unfortunate is the only thing I can think of. For thirty pages I was bursting with energy and creativity. I think I really got caught up in the BLADE script, and that settled me down for a few weeks. I need to get the enthusiasm back!

And then there's school. Astronomy is the only class that can retain my interest for an hour and a half. But it's good to have the history lessons refreshed in my mind. It's good to remember how this thing we call America got started; and that was with the help of generations of British, French, Spanish and Dutch, and later Irish, German and Italian, settlers. It's comforting knowing so many put so much into this country as early as five hundred years ago. I wonder what they would think of it all now?

Dear Spring, Please Get Here Soon...

2009-02-05T21:33:00.004-05:00

I've been away for a while, but I'm staying busy. The Spring semester kicked off this week, and so far my classes are great, especially Astronomy. This is something I would want to do for the rest of my life, if my written word doesn't pay so well.

Baseball is so close I'm beginning to foam at the mouth. Barely 8 weeks away and I have my season tickets for Sunday games almost purchased. There is just something about Spring in Baltimore...

Anyway, the Script Project was going really well into page 30. One quarter down, and I stumbled like I do so often. But I will finish it, because I think it's a really good script.

And vampires are still keeping me up at night. I revamped my BLADE story for MARVEL, and I'm mailing my Idea Proposal tomorrow. So, that's three projects on my lap.

No problem.

Disrespect

2009-02-02T15:31:00.001-05:00

Today I realized like a verbal slap in the face why I want to write for a living. Maybe I'm too nice, I don't know - but I don't like being disrespected. And I was today; you would've thought I had taken money from her purse the way she treated me, too. My boss, I'm referring to. For the first time I did not even feel welcome here. How am I supposed to work with that in the back of my head, now?

This just emphasizes how valuable my education is. If I needed further encouragement this was it, as classes begin tomorrow. I know, everyone has bosses - but not everyone has bosses that look at you like you're disposable. I was so close to just giving my notice and walking away. My tax refund is almost here, and I could've survived on it for a couple months, at least. Hell, I still might. One of the big reasons I'm (possibly) lazy is that I don't want to work my ass off in a dead-end job. I mean, what's the point? Seriously, I'm not happy here, but in the back of my head I know it could be worse...

INFECTION!!!

2009-01-26T10:36:00.000-05:00

So, I haven't gotten much writing done. Shocker, right? I know. But with the far-reaching salmonella scare going around, I inadvertantly ate some peanut butter which I realized later may have been contaminated. Well the FDA does not list the Little Debbie snack I ate, so whatever I'm feeling today may just be a cold. The hypochondriac in me wouldn't let it go, however. And today I'm feeling worse, no doubt the efforts of my mind getting the best of my body.

This is a shame because I was really on a roll with the script project.

President Obama

2009-01-21T11:55:00.001-05:00

I watched over 10 hours of the Inauguration yesterday. Shame, I live half an hour away from DC, and I had every intention of going, but things started to persuade me from going. One, I didn't have a dollar in my wallet. Two, I don't own a pair of gloves. Three, I don't particularly like being elbow to elbow for six hours, in the cold with no gloves. Or maybe it was just pure laziness!

So, I watched picturesque DC on the television, and I enjoyed it quite a bit. President Obama's speech was awesome. It wasn't pretentious. Rather, it was honest. He blamed some Americans for the way the Economy is presently, and that was the right thing to do. Whether you ripped off your company for billions or failed to pay your $300 credit card because you had to eat first, there's a lot of blame to go around. But we're all in this together. And it felt good to have this new beginning in front of us. Things are still going to get worse before it gets better - we all know that - and the President alone isn't going to be much help. But his words of hope mean a lot to us, and he knows this. So on his inauguration he began to galvanize us.

I also got another 3-mile walk in. It's becoming routine, so it's getting easier. And while I am still on hiatus from UNIQUE, I'm getting a lot of writing done elsewhere. And I'm thinking of new projects all of the time.

Sad Monday

2009-01-19T15:06:00.002-05:00

The Ravens got their asses handed to them. I've been writing the film script all day, trying not to think too much about it. It's just a game, right? Well...

Other Projects

2009-01-15T11:22:00.003-05:00

As I begin writing another project, I started to realize how much UNIQUE means to me. To be honest, it means everything. While I'm stoked about this script project, this novel and the series has my soul within it. My thoughts, actions, hopes and aspirations are in each page, and I still have that deep confidence inside my gut that just knows that I'm going to see this thing published.

And as I continue to query agents, I'm going to use this hiatus on UNIQUE to develop my craft in another writing genre, the film script. I've recently written an article for submission at the New York Times, but apparently it was declined for publication. No biggie, I'm going to write something else. And possibly for other papers, as well.

My goal is to have something small published before classes resume in early February.

It's A Good Day

2009-01-12T09:10:00.003-05:00

I don't know why, but today feels like a good day. I woke up not feeling so stiff and cranky, and the sun is bright and warm today. Twinges of optimism, and not courtesy of white pills.

And of course, the Ravens are headed to the AFC Championship! Our next bout of revenge is this Sunday. Wow, it really feels good rooting for this team again in the post season... 2000 seems so long ago.

Even with imminent claustrophobia setting in daily, I'm managing to see the brighter side of things. I've yet to make contacts regarding the whole Anxiety Episode. But I'm hoping I can make it to Spring, where the warm weather usually keeps me happy.

With more and more revision UNIQUE is becoming more worthy of attention, in my opinion. And as I've started the latest translated VAMPIRE HUNTER D novel, this is usually the time for my creativity to spike.

Anyway, gym tonight. My ever-versatile iPhone is stacked with new tunes and albums and I'm ready to roll. Let's see if today is capable of staying good.

BEING ELTON ALWINE

2009-01-09T10:20:00.002-05:00

This is something that I've not give much thought about, and I'm not one to self-diagnose, but I have to find out if I have an anxiety disorder. All the symptoms are there: sweating, shortness of breath, headaches, etc. The list goes on. It's hard to concentrate, and I'm sick of excuses for why I'm not writing. It's certainly not lack of love or passion. And I am just a bit too affected on Sundays. The Baltimore Ravens are one of my loves in life, but this football team should in no way affect my attitudes and moods after game day. This, to me, is completely unacceptable.

As of late, I've also developed an unnatural fear of death. I have witnessed this transformation seemingly outside of myself. I've never actually been the "worry wart" type, and I'm far from letting this behavior continue. Depression, Anxiety - these are words that I have always abhorred; figments of the Pharmaceutical Industry's Utopian dream.

Quite a bit of this development is apparent in UNIQUE. From the first chapter, a few things happen to Evander that all could be considered catalyst for his reality-wrenching experiences. I don't know if this was planned as part of the plot or if I was just trying to figure out what was going on with me and my curiosity. Regardless, for the sake of my novel and my lifestyle, and I'm going to at least learn more about anti-anxiety treatment, and go from there.

It's odd, but I honestly fell into this strange relaxed feeling when I discovered this, or self-diagnosed myself. I'll let the professionals do the diagnosing (which I always vowed was a hoax), but I feel a little bit better. Perhaps it's because I have a sense of direction, that for years, my novel did not have.

This Is 2009!

2009-01-05T11:15:00.007-05:00

Well what do you know! The Ravens won their first Playoff game in wonderfully warm Miami! It was almost 80 degrees! Also I jailbroke my iPhone the other day and I've been playing with it ever since. Red-faced, I have to say I didn't think much about writing or querying these past five days off.

I paid my gym membership over the weekend. Something that's becoming habit is my increasingly disturbing anti-social behavior. With Winter here I am perpetually sick, and I'm hoping that the gym will be good for me. I'm assuming I'm offically "depressed."

Did I mention that the weather in Miami is nearing 80 degrees?! Wow, heaven... I really need to live in a warmer climate.

I hate using the D word, but there may be no other explanation for it. Nothing keeps me happy. I am doing the same thing every day, i.e. I wake up and watch TV, I eat, and I've become vaguely sedentary, which I may or may not have listed in earlier posts. Sedentary. That's my great adjective for 2008.

Successful. That's what I hope will be my great adjective for 2009.

Tonight I'm heading to Chili's with T for lots of Dos Equis and chips and salsa. Maybe I can find happiness in beer again! Talk to you soon.

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T18:14:00.004-05:00

Venus is sitting pretty beneath the moon tonight, and it paints a nice picture to usher in the New Year. 2009 is finally here. 2008 continued to bring me grief even today, so I'm looking forward to turning the page. It's cold and extremely windy tonight and the Harbor's party is cancelled, and rescheduled for tomorrow. Maybe I'll be in a more partying mood then. I know I didn't get much done today like I wanted to.

I was summoned to court for a charged-off credit card (I've been hurt several times and couldn't work, so this is nothing new) first thing this morning. Oh, bring on the new year... It's only gonna get better. Wish me and UNIQUE luck for '09!

Happy New Year everybody! Stay safe out there...

Make Room For My Ego!

2008-12-29T16:19:00.004-05:00

Okay, now I'd say it's about time to revel in a lil egotism here. While searching online at Barnes and Noble for vampire books to lighten the balance of my gift card, I came across several books that just made me say, "Wow."

I often self-deprecate on this blog, but after browsing some of the vampire books that have been published, I was left thinking that I may have what it takes to potentially become America's next great white hope! Seriously, there's shit out there, my friends. This is just the kind of kick in the ass I was looking for. In all seriousness, I'm far from a great writer. But I believe that I'm a good writer. And while UNIQUE isn't the Great American Novel, I believe that it is a fun book to read, within an interesting series.

Perhaps all this "shit" that is published annually is marketed correctly, and that's why certain writing ass-clowns have a job today. And this "shit" helps good stuff become great. (This, and probably a better work ethic than my own...)

I'm well aware that there are also what is comparable to a shit-ton of stuff printed that is written quite well. While Stephenie Meyers is hugely popular, her stuff gets trounced pretty bad, too. I think her Twilight books are beautiful, if not long-winded. Charlaine Harris writes wonderfully well, save for the fact that some sentences are borderline irrelevant. I could go on, but you don't care.

Warm Winter Days

2008-12-28T14:55:00.006-05:00

What a Sunday! It's lovingly warm outside, and the Baltimore Winter sky is beginning to look a lot like the Pacific Northwest. It's cloudy 'round here damn near daily. And the Ravens are in the playoffs! What a day...

I'm two days out from a nice 5-day vacation and I've got a couple six packs of Bud American Ale, my new favorite beer behind Guinness.

I've come up with a few new things to implement into UNIQUE, and I'm looking forward to this evening so that I will be able to sit down in quiet.

I'm going to sleep tight, tonight. Goodnight, Baltimore!

Thank You, 2008

2008-12-27T11:06:00.004-05:00

One thing I noticed about the holidays is that simply put, they suck. My holiday cheer went out with the Christmas tree and is lying in the gutter with a dead mouse.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that bad, but this year wasn't the delightful treat I've grown accustomed to. No, oh no! This one was full of naughty little nephews running around and generally being bad. I even caught a foot in the crotch. On Theresa's side - well, it started off nice enough, but on Christmas day it didn't end so wonderfully.

But 2008 wasn't so awful. I had another great time in Chicago. The Raven's actually won 9 more games than I thought they could. And I'm still alive, kicking and pouting my way into publishing.

Now we're heading to New Years and the only thing I have goin' for me is five days off. Now this is a wonderful Christmas present. Let's see, what am I going to do with all this time off? Well, I'm sure I won't leave the couch and the remote will be glued to my hands via coagulated Doritos cheese. The lights will stay off and I will become vaguely vampiric, perhaps only to venture above ground late at night for a midnight bite.

I can actually feel my arteries clogging and my joints getting stiffer. Here's to the New Year, and may it bring much better luck and love to all of you. And to my heart...

Excerpt from UNIQUE Chapter 1

2008-12-26T20:03:00.004-05:00

Walking into the makeshift den, which was now simply a playroom and recording studio (okay, it’s not much more than a closet), Shao Kahn shouted “Finish Him!” from the Mortal Kombat II arcade cabinet. I kept the thing as a relic from my glory days. I found it in a flee market in Dundalk, and it was actually more expensive than it was worth, but that game had kept me out of quite a bit of trouble during my stay at Patapsco High.

I headed to the workbench and turned on the power strip. I turned on both of the turntables, the synthesizer and mixer, and just in case things were to go well, the recorder. Flipping through some records in a box next to the stand, I pulled out Method Man’s Tical and popped it onto the left TT-1. I was working on a mix of “Mr. Sandman” for a Mid-skool tape. This was a collection of hip hop from the 90s, the stuff that we grew into men with.

My wheels of steel were new Numark TT-1 turntables, and they weren’t nearly as good for scratching records like my old Technics, but I found them on sale at a discount that I just couldn’t pass up. Technics were usually known for reliability—apparently Numark was not. The belt drive on one of them snapped earlier in the week. For some reason, I’ve never had much luck with machines and reliability. . . .

Behind me Raiden let loose a banshee-wail of a war cry that startled me, and finally I had had enough. I pulled the plug on the Thunder God. Seemingly dismissing my attempt to shut him up, a sizzling crack of thunder echoed through the house. “Huh,” I grumbled, as I stared out the window. “That was close.”

Beneath the workbench, I fished out another album. Placing it on the other ‘table, I picked a beat off the drum machine and placed a pair of headphones over my head—then quickly removed them as I heard some more loud rumbling outside. I looked to the window, and a flash of lightning lit up the street like a heavenly strobe light. I looked to Seth and Sam lying on either arm of the sofa like little furry gargoyles, and said, “Looks like God’s ready to do this.”

They were fast asleep—I doubted they cared.

Placing the headset back on, I rubbed the record, finding the right spot to scratch with the beat that was playing. Turntablism wasn’t new by any means, but it was fairly new to me. I was, at this time, familiar with mixing records and creating new sounds, but cuttin’ and scratchin’ was a new park altogether for me in which to explore the beat-juggling sounds of hip-hop’s sacred breaks. It just so happened that even I could tell I had something of a talent for it.

Something came over me, for a moment, which was sort of like a cold sweat and dizziness. The hot flash made me feel uncomfortable and agitated. I tried to concentrate on the beat, but I was getting nowhere.

After several mistakes that made me blush there was another boom of thunder, and the lights flickered momentarily. I decided that I had had enough scratchin for one night, and flicked the power off all the equipment, save for the turntable—I wasn’t trying to get fried. I pulled Bill Wither’s Ain’t No Sunshine and let it play.

Something caught my eye on the table, a letter from my bank. In short, it read that I was so far behind on rent that they were going to foreclose on my shop if I didn’t ante-up. And it got better. Beneath that letter was another one; this one, however, from the woman I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Not only was my home and business being taken from me, but so was my heart:

‘Evander,
I never meant to do this with pen and paper, but you’ve left me no choice. Obviously your motorcycles and records and drinking mean more to you than I do. You and I both know it’s not meant to be. Right? We’re both too young to make any life-altering decisions. Don’t you agree? For Christ’s sake, I have to force you just to have a conversation with me. I’ll always love you, but I’m sorry—we’re going to have to stop seeing each other.
With love,
Alison’

At least my home would be left intact—albeit over someone else’s head, I figured. I crumpled Ali’s letter in my hand and tossed it across the room. It’d had been months now, but I couldn’t get over her.

There was a third letter beneath this pile of goodwill and happiness, but I didn’t dare read that one again. Not now. That one was the hardest to swallow, believe it or not. Life changed in a completely different way with that piece of paper, and there was no going back.

Would Ali have left if I had told her about it?

I felt like I was about to vomit, so I grabbed the papers and shoved them into a desk drawer. The sickening feeling in my gut told me that I needed to be somewhere else; somewhere far away. There was only way to get there, and it wasn’t on a plane, bus or train. I looked to the syringe atop a Motocourse book on the coffee table . . .

. . . I fell backwards, my head hitting the edge of the sofa. I took several deep breaths. I was shaking. It felt as if my soul was being pulled from me—directly from my chest.
Dropping the needle, I was ready to leave it all behind. . . .

My palms were sweaty, and sweat trickled down my forehead, too.

There was a buzzing sound.

—And in the corner, there was something. Almost a shadow against the wall, except there was nothing there to block the light of the lamp—or was there? Perhaps it looked more like a blur, a fuzzy image of a man-shaped figure or something.

I was quick to ignore the blur, however, as the feeling of separating from my consciousness ensued. I felt like two persons: one was me, my body; and the second was my mind. We were in a battle to control each other. But the buzzing!

“Stop the buzzing,” I shouted.

Though it continued, and it grew louder, and more decipherable it became.

“It’s not buzzing,” a voice said. “It’s the sound of voices—billions of them.”

I looked to the blur against the wall; I figured it was the voice. “I know,” I said. “What are they saying?”

“Everything. And in every language and every emotion. They are conversations from this reality, the world over, and they are conversations from the reality where you are going. Don’t be afraid, Evander. It’s a place that is very similar—eerily similar, in fact—to this one.”

I stared at the figure, for a moment, with my eyes wide in deliberation. With a deep breath, I said, “That’s intense.” I wiped my face, and picked up the needle. “Maybe I should stop using this stuff.”

“For this task,” the blur continued, “you’ll need to be pure of heart. Are you pure of heart, Evander?”

I tossed the empty syringe to the figure’s shadow. “Does it look like I’m pure of heart?”

“Everyone deals with loneliness differently. You’ll overcome this, eventually. You and I both know this; we both know that you are not addicted, save for the pain it brings you—which is stronger than that of the loneliness.”

“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” I stood up, a little wobbly, and kicked a crate of records over in my stumbles. My breathing seemed to be normal—which is to say no longer shallow and erratic, and the cold sweat was gone. Outside, the storm was present again, and the thunder had eradicated the buzzing. It seemed to be gaining on intensity to match my growing irritability. I was so confused. I wanted answers. As I stared outside, I asked the figure, “Who the hell are you? And could you not be so ambiguous this time?”

I turned around, and the shadow, or blur of the figure, was gone. I looked around, but I saw nothing. I jumped on the couch. I was fatigued, and the night hadn’t even started yet. “I need to get out of here for a while.”

It wasn’t always like this for me. I wasn’t always this bad off. My world evolved into one of chaos before I truly knew the definition of the word. I pushed myself to the brink of death habitually out of necessity and curiosity. I used to be much more innocent. From the beginning:

I was born Evander Cambio to Alan and Marie in sunny Florida, at Tyndall Air Force Base in Panama City, on December 6, 1977. I wasn’t long in America before I was flown overseas with my mother. My father was stationed at Kadena Air Base in Okinawa just weeks after my birth. It would be four years before I would come back to the States. During the short years I lived in Japan, a lot of its culture was instilled in me; more than any three-year old should probably assimilate. Gojira, Denjiman, Kaman Rider, and Ultraman—these pieces of Japanese pop culture were a part of me long before King Kong, X-MEN, Knight Rider and Superman. My most memorable fixation about Japan was the sense of loyalty and honor. It was everywhere, almost palpable, but on the television, mostly, which is where I picked up on it first. I couldn’t understand the language, but I had an idea of what was going on. The samurai—relegated to the history and fiction books and Kurosawa films, which I collected in earnest—was still a figure of great prominence. And though I surely didn’t recognize it as a youth, the religion of life in Nippon stayed with me as I grew into an adult, and I began to realize what I was emulating.

I remember looking up to the pale blue sky one day and seeing fighter jets practice air-to-air intercept maneuvers, my fathered had called them. The F-15s—called Eagles—took off daily from the base as the new defender of American interests in the Pacific. I remember the first time I heard one streak past at low altitude; I jumped an inch off the ground I’m sure with the boom that rattled windows and sent dogs barking.

Another thing I remember falling in love with in Japan was the motorcycle. Behind our house was a motocross track. My mother would walk me to the fence, and through the links I’d watch—with my mouth open wide and eyebrows atop my head—the bikes jump as high as the Eagles soared, or so it seemed to me then. Amalgamated with American might and style, Japan—even in the early ‘70s—was a technical wonderland.

My mother would often prop me on my rocking horse, and there I’d stay for hours, listening to probably unhealthy doses of The Village People and Pink Floyd. Was it your intent to get me into drugs, mother? While I’m sure that wasn’t the case, music was etched into my soul at an early age. Rhythm and beats became the backbone of my life, and luckily, my parents came home with a pair of turntables.

Before I could say konichiwa we headed back home to the States—to Baltimore, Maryland. This time we weren’t joined with my father. He left my mother for some low-life. I was too young to feel my mother’s pain, but she was strong. She concealed it well. She was also pregnant. In March, my little sister popped out. With the help of my grandmother Mom Mom, my mom raised us as best she could while working multiple full-time jobs. I don’t remember that much of my Mom Mom while I was a toddler, but I do remember faking sick so that I could miss school and stay home and watch the news and talk-shows with her. When her talk shows were over she’d let me watch cartoons like Voltron and He-Man while she cooked scrapple and eggs for breakfast, and then take me to the corner 7/11 for my monthly doses of Spider-Man and Batman comic books and Cycle World magazines—what more could a kid ask for? I was a Hulkamaniac. I idolized Tony Hawk and Bo Jackson and Jeremy McGrath, and vowed to rule the world like Darth Vader ruled the galaxy. I shared my Sega with the neighborhood and my only worry as a kid growing up was if I’d scuff my Nike Air Jordans. I simply cannot complain about my youth. It was as an adult that I would experience challenges that were overwhelming in scale.

For instance . . .

†

The barmaid smiled as I walked in. She propped a bottle of Budweiser in front of me as I took a seat at the bar. Night Shift was about as comforting as a strip club could be: it was cold, dark and clinical. A machine hissed and spewed milky white fog across the ceiling, turning blue under the black lights. Crystal Method’s She’s My Pusher was the soundtrack of the moment as the next woman to catch my eye was Jen. She was drop dead gorgeous but quite empty of anything I’d ever consider worth fighting for.

Her face lit up and she began crawling along the bar towards me, her long blond hair draped down around her shoulders. The barmaid smiled at me with arched brows as if to say ‘lucky you’. Man she’s already naked. . . .

“Hi there, hon,” she said. And then she whispered seductively close to my ear, touching my chest, “You back to blow more coke off my stomach?”

See what I mean?

“Maybe later,” I said, sliding a couple bucks into her g-string. “I just need a drink right now to loosen up.”

“Who’s your pusher, baby?” she said, nibbling my ear lobe.

I only nodded. She winked and crawled to the next lucky victim. I watched her crawl away— why am I leaving again?—and walked back out the door after her song was over. I tapped the pocket above my breast. She didn’t let me down.

Leaving Night Shift I headed to Hellfire Club in the lightning-wrought atmosphere. There, all my worries usually went away. They were forced away. Drowned in so many chemicals and poisons that nothing could exist in my mind save for the woozy absolution of numbness.

I cruised along the harbor, alone, and enjoyed the scent of the water in my last few minutes of sobriety for the night. The rain seemed to be gone, for now. The thumping beat of the Ducati 916’s twin Termignoni exhaust hummed away at low RPMs beneath me. The street lamps, reflecting through my helmet visor, churned up a feeling of dizziness, and thunder echoed the growling in my stomach.

Rolling down Boston Street the bike shut off; I pulled the clutch lever in and drifted to a stop. I turned the ignition off, and then back on, and pushed the starter button.

Nothing.

I flicked up my visor and looked to the sky in emotional fatigue.

A shooting star flew through the sky. But then it suddenly changed directions, as if deflected from its original trajectory, or realized it was heading in the wrong direction. And then the star stopped. It sat there, bright and twinkling, perhaps realizing that it had been spotted doing something it shouldn’t have done.

Back to the bike, I pulled off the right fairing. There along that trellis frame sat the rectifier. I neglected to replace it for years now. I tapped on it a few times, and tried the starter button again; this time she jumped to life.

Thunder rolled across the city with each fierce flash of lightning. On several occasions it was so close that I heard the static electricity discharge and I nearly felt the heat; the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up, as if trying to embrace the electricity. And with another boom of thunder, my heart jumped in my chest. It was getting nasty, and I actually thought about heading home. The harbor to my left was like a mirror that echoed the sheets of lightning that flickered and danced all over. The drugs were making me quite emotional. As I bolted the fairing back on, I found some time to think . . .

Why did you have to utterly shred my heart, Alison? All that I wanted was to share everything with you, to come home at night to you, to sleep next to you. Did you lie about your happiness? The time we spent together seems only like a dream. . . .

Ali was only memories to me at this time, but the pain—I did a good job of suppressing it, usually—was there, hidden under layers of thick self-loathing and insecurity. She had led me to believe that I was in love—that she was in love with me too—but that was lust playing tricks on my mind. She forgot about me in what seemed like only a moment, so I had made myself do the same. I let her fade away.

I felt guilt on top of the depression. Here I was, discontented; when in another part of the world countless men, women and children were dead and dying. And my sister Rose—stationed at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Alaska—was possibly heading to hostile Iraq; my uncle was already there, and there was a chance that my dad was going to be re-enlisted and shipped out, as well, if the war made a turn for the worse. But currently, the war was going as well as the Pentagon expected, though hundreds of thousands of Americans were still being deployed continuously to the war effort.

Sitting there in the silence between rumbles of thunder I began to feel queasy. There was this knot in my stomach forming, and then I saw something disturbing. The city all around me was in flames, and the buildings were blown away around me, and a mushroom cloud erupted in the center of the city.—Vivid doesn’t even come close to describing the hallucination. Or daydream. Or whatever the hell it was.

I looked down the street and there was this guy standing there staring at me. I thought he looked peculiar because he was wearing sunglasses. But he turned and started down the opposite end of the sidewalk. And here I was ready to kick some ass. . . . Meanwhile the bike stalled out again, though this time undoubtedly due to lack of fuel in the tank.

I thumbed the starter once more, and the engine fired to life in a throaty roar in lethargic double beats. I kicked down into first gear and slowly headed back onto the empty street.

Anytime I was riding on a fairly straight road I naturally felt the need to pull a wheelie—it’s quite obligatory to most sportbike riders, especially in front of people—so while shifting into second I dumped the clutch and opened the throttle; I began what was probably the ugliest wheelie in history. I felt the rear wheel slide over the wet pavement and I had to dab the rear brake because I had used too much throttle. I went completely backwards once, landing hard on my back and head and obliterating the bike—and I wasn’t going to go there again.

A flash of lightning startled my inebriated senses, so I brought the bike’s front-end down abruptly. A tree was blasted by a bolt of white lightning that slithered blindingly through it instantly, stopping at the moist earth mound of roots at its base. Organic shrapnel hit me in the visor and chest as the tree came toppling down, landing in my path. I narrowly avoided a massive chunk of the trunk, pushing the bike to lean and swerving around it in a quick right-left juke maneuver. I remember the tires losing traction on the slippery pavement, but I don’t remember losing control of the bike, and I shut my eyes tight . . .

. . . I opened my eyes, and there was a bright light. I blinked several times while trying to regain some semblance of what had just happened. I leaned forward and looked over at where the light was coming from—it was the Ducati’s headlamp. The bike was lying just under a truck, the front tire still spinning slowly.

I remembered avoiding the tree. My helmet was lying beside me, rolling back and forth. I must’ve hit my head, because I simply didn’t remember falling off or hitting anything. I did remember, however—which could probably be attributed to hitting my head—blacking out, sort of, and seeing stars, thousands of them, which seemed to rush at me at all angles; and seeing total darkness and infinite color at the same time.

I made to get up, but felt back down again, feeling like the wind was knocked out of me. Trying to get up once more, a hand was outstretched in front of me, and I looked up to the one offering. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was wearing sunglasses—this was the guy from earlier, down the road. Light blue lenses hid his eyes from meeting mine directly, but I took his hand anyway out of appreciation. “Welcome back,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, with his hand still holding on to my arm in case I would fall over again. “You were out for about fifteen seconds or so—the time it took me to run over here from down the street. You just lay in the street, not moving a muscle. I saw the lightning strike close by, and then heard your bike hit the ground. I thought you were dead.”

Still feeling woozy from the fall, I clumsily picked the bike up—lord was it heavy—and noticed that it was all banged up on the right side. The mirror had snapped off, and the foot peg was shaved down a bit, and the fairing was sanded down past the paint.

“Ambulance should be here in a moment,” he said.

I looked at him, and then quickly hopped on the seat. I wasn’t trying to hang around for a free DWI ticket.

“You’re planning on riding again? You really should wait for the paramedics. You may have seriously hurt yourself. Even though you don’t feel too bad now—”

“I’m fine,” I said, while simultaneously thumbing the starter button. Over the exhaust I yelled, “Thanks for your help, though. ‘Preciate it.”

A block later and the damned thing died again. I pushed it a block to Hellfire.

In the parking lot, I jumped back on the seat again to catch my breath. I pulled out the small baggie of cocaine Jen had slipped me and cut-up a line on the fuel tank with my license. “White Lines,” I sang, “blowing through my mind.” Inhaling, I was hit with a burst of euphoric serenity that transcended the accident, taking me above it, where only this feeling could have given me the carelessness to do such a foolish thing in public, I realized as a few guys walked by, staring in amazement. “White Lines . . . blow away.”

My throat tightened, making it barely able for me to swallow. My teeth felt as if I could pull each of them out of my mouth without any sort of pain; it was as if they were asking for me to remove them because my jaw, which wouldn’t stop moving, wanted them gone. I rubbed my tongue along my gums and the roof of my mouth like it was a woman’s breast.

After pouring a few drops on the ground, I sipped the whiskey in my flask to wash the poison down. With the flask in my hand and the white powder on the tank, I said in a moment of realization and with a bit of laughter in my voice, “Jesus Christ, man—you’re turning into a fuckin’ junkie.” I put the flask back in my pocket, and continued: “You better straighten yourself out—and real quick. You’re stronger than this.”

I looked up at the small orange Hellfire sticker, and felt that out-of-place feeling; the strange one where it feels like something isn’t quite right at all, and it wiggles uncomfortably around your insides. Something isn’t right . . . I don’t belong here came the feeling again.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

2008-12-25T13:18:00.003-05:00

Disclaimer: No, this is not Santa fuckin up a random black dude. This is Santa doin his best for the Vampire Nation by chokin' out Blade! Merry Christmas everybody!

Weekend to Remember

2008-12-22T11:28:00.005-05:00

What a great weekend! My little brother arrived in Baltimore and the Ravens win on Saturday blended right into Christmas with Theresa's family all day Sunday and our friend's at night. I wanted to post here over the weekend, but for the first time in a while I did not have a chance. But that's a good thing. I kept busy and stayed optimisitic throughout the weekend. Now we're gearing up for Christmas with my family and I'm finally in the spirit. I'm spending every dollar I have on everyone I can think of. And...I'm enjoying it. Weird.

Now, if the Raven's win on Sunday and I get some editting done, I'll be ringing in the New Year like a madman! Also, while reading a new vampire book collection I was given yesterday, I began to see things about descriptive narrative differently. So that is something I'm looking for while doing revisions tonight and this week. There are certain times when I use words like Victorian in place of describing the characteristics of a certain room that is just a No No in my opinion.

So with Stabbing Westward's "Why" in my ear, I'm going to open up UNIQUE and shake this book down! See ya soon.

A Summer Night Forgotten

2008-12-18T23:40:00.007-05:00

It's warm. Damp with large drops of rain pelting the windshield every now and then. The Crystal Method's The Winner fades into Over the Line, and I roll the windshield down. In my pocket are two white pills. I fish them out, and pop them in my mouth, downing them with a Diet Pepsi. To my left is the Patapsco River, capped by downtown Baltimore a little further to my north. Yellow street lamps guide my way on either side, and I close my eyes to inhale the watery breeze.

I stop in front of an old basketball court. Just past the court is a small field that ends at the water, a stubby pier jutting out in broken planks. I remember the place from my earlier drinking days. Friends and I would come here before we were old enough to hit the bars and drink. We would drink cans of Bud and bottles of Zima and we would make out.

I slip my hands in my pocket and lean back on the hood of the Mustang. Crystal Method's High and Low is on now. It's perfect and I smile. I'm happy in my reverie. So far, I've had a good life. Optimism engulfs me as the rain comes down in a deluge.

What's So Special About You?

2008-12-17T18:01:00.004-05:00

A funny thing about humans - we think we're special. We gave ourselves a soul, so that we would never really die. We gave ourselves gods so that we'd truly never be alone. And for thousands of years our literary characters have benefited from this as well, and we made them worship us, too.

And the reasons are easy enough to spot.

Apparently Earth's the only planet with life, and dogs can't talk and fish can't walk. We inherited the universe for lack of any other intelligent life. And it shows in our fiction, especially literature. The vampire is no different. As amazing as their physiology would be - to sustain life even after death - they hold us high on a pedestal. Dracula did in his novel, and this worship of humanity continues to this day.

Evander Cambio, the protagonist of UNIQUE, wants to hold onto his humanity, too. Hell, I even had to develop different species of vampires so that this was a possibility. He's a Clean Blood, a vampire from the original source - the Sacred Ancestor. While the undead all around him - that are the majority - relish in their evil, more violent ways. Instead, Evander tends to protect humans; he still feels human, considering his physiology is closer to theirs.

This is just one example of how even I cannot bring humanity down a bit. Try as I might, even I can't bring myself from holding humans upon high. But every once in a while, we need to poke fun at ourselves.

But wait! Maybe we are special. Altruism exists, and not by mere chance. People help each other, and I'd be willing to bet not just for the sake of gaining something from it. We worship family and a higher power, and teach ourselves to be more selfless every day. And right now, that's exactly what we all need.

This post was supposed to be anything but a rant, but I'm feeling very special lately. Or maybe I'm high, I don't know. Or maybe I'm just all wrapped up in Christmas spirit...

Don't Tap Out!

2008-12-16T10:14:00.001-05:00

When inspiration and creativity is absent for so long, can you deduce that the story is no longer worth writing? Is there a point when an idea is simply dead? And have I stumbled into a brain-snapping grapple that I should just succumb to the pain and tap out already?!

Well the short, perhaps ephemeral answer is no, not just yet. There are plenty of stories out there that exist - and popularly - in the world of novels, comic books and graphic novels that give me hope that one day my story will see the dimly fluorescent-lit shelves of bookstores, eventually. And while I do sometimes have a tinge of doubt that pinches me at the temple, usually the confidence that has kept this first book alive takes large Pacman-like bites out of that doubt. Chomp, Chomp, Chomp.

Sometimes I find it curious that I spend more time and effort on posting on this blog than I do actually trying to sit down and write. I've listed in other posts the numerous distractions I have - that most of us share - but in this case, the first story is done. Queries are mailed, and some already rejected. But for the series of AFTER MAN as a whole, I know that there is a market for these stories. Having the patience as well as the confidence to one day see these stories in print is worth too much to simply tap out now.

Yo, This Book MIGHT Suck!

2008-12-15T13:42:00.001-05:00

You know, I don't get much feedback at all on my writing. Besides my significant other, I don't think anyone has ever read my novel. That's a shame. But I'm starting to wonder how I would take the criticism. I watched The Day the Earth Stood Still this past weekend and sat in awe. I love films where humanity just doesn't have a clue how to stop something so unimaginable from happening. I was much more enamored with the special effects and the cinematography, but the story wasn't so bad either. Nor was the general message, which was faithful to the original and still remains true to this day. Go figure.

But while the credits were rolling, it was the first flick I've been to in a while where the people were obviously left unsatisfied. "Yo, that movie sucked," I heard above the others. I held back the "You suck" reply, figuring that this was not my film and I shouldn't take it personally. But I enjoyed it, so I did. But only for a moment. And then I realized that I've never even got so much as a "Yo, this book sucked."

How the hell do I think I'll ever get published when I can't even get my book read by my peers let alone a publisher or literary agent? And how well will I actually take their criticism once they have read it?

Countdown to 2009

2008-12-12T22:42:00.004-05:00

I have no idea what's in store for 2009, but I'm optimistic. I'm hopeful. I read today that, even though the the auto bailout fell flat on its face in Congress yesterday, the Treasury department will not let the Big 3 fail. And I have a few friends that have lost their jobs. But on January 1st, you have to believe in something magical, and I think they will get back on their feet. It's a new, fresh start. And with a bit of faith, and some confidence, you have to believe everything's just going to work out.

American Exceptionalism may be fizzing away, but with Barack Obama soon to lead this country, I'm excited that this country may be heading in a new direction. I hope that foreign policy will be reinvented for this new globalized world and that energy technology leads our economy back to preeminence.

Hopefully something inside my head will click and regardless of where I write, I will write. And maybe I'll get married. And make a son. And win the lottery. Who know's what's going to happen, but I'm optimistic.

Rain, Rain Go Away

2008-12-11T11:56:00.003-05:00

Or not, I don't care. I'm taking my last final exam. My nose is leaking like a bastard. I'm out of pills and next I have to go to work. At least I get paid tomorrow.

So I was reading an issue of Wizard magazine. Nothing really gets me back into writing quite like Wizard, for some reason. I don't know if it's because there are a lot of scribe interviews in the mag, or if it's the plethora of new writers they embrace. But it's refreshing to see that some people have luck making it in the biz.

I'm hoping that January will provide me the quiet lull in activity that abounds me at the moment, and I can write. Maybe something new, I don't know.

Back to this final now. Ta!

Christmas Rapping

2008-12-10T13:43:00.004-05:00

When I left for work it was nearly 65 degrees already and raining. Thunder was rattling the windows and set off the car alarm behind me, leaving me looking suspicious as I pulled away for work. Laughing, I rolled down the window and enjoyed the warm air and cool rain.

It's amazing what a walk will do for you. Hitting the treadmill for an hour yesterday did wonders for my cold-riddled body. It got me out of the cave I call residence for now and I eventually began a Christmas list.

I have an iPhone, so now I can finally enjoy buying for others. This little gadget is taking up way too much of my time. But seeing as how I'm mostly just doing nothing, it can't hurt that much, can it? Okay, I don't have any rapping skills, but things are at least looking up today. (And I'm working over 10 hours, weird...)

My Grades, the Publishing Industry, and the Earth and the Moon

2008-12-09T13:34:00.009-05:00

It's been a while since I've had anything to blog about, apparently. Christmas shopping, final exams this week and a blown final project, and I'm a year older. I haven't mustered much writing today, and I'm stuck in my hole watching The Wire.

I've been doing way too much thinking lately, that's for sure. Wondering what America would be like without an auto industry. The fact that I'm still years away from graduation. And how is it that I'm just so F-ing lazy? And maybe depression really is as simple as a chemical reaction in the brain...

But I wonder mostly about the State of the Publishing industry, and how much room there are for new writers. Obviously the economy is hurting everybody. And it seems time to back off with the query letters, and concentrate solely on finishing revisions of this first book. Perhaps I'll have a fighting chance when this country is climbing out of this hole that's larger than the one in my futon. Here we go again.

Much like the Earth absorbing the moon's orbit around our sun I am forced back into this perpetual cycle of static inertia. (See Capture Theory.) Now I don't know what I just said, but it feels about right. Back to the Wire...

TWILIGHT

2008-11-30T12:19:00.006-05:00

What a fantastic movie. I was only halfway through the book when we saw it last night, but I was very pleased. The soundtrack was reminiscent of a 90s horror movie and the cinematography was different.

Blah blah all of that though. It was just a good film. BUT. Of course, I have absolute qualms with certain things about Mrs. Meyer's vampires. No fangs? What?! Sparkling sunlight? Get out... And her vampires never sleep. Never. Ever.

See, that's just sad. Give 'em coffins or something, because what is worth living if you can't reset? You'd go mad! And this is sad, because I never connected with Edward Cullen after this. He was above even vampire at this point, and he lost all human qualities - which he had a few up til this point. So I shuddered a little cringe when Bella expels the word "Vampire!"

Yet I do want to see it again. I was suprised that it was honestly fairly accurate. And for sure I'm finishing the book. I'm looking forward to the Twilight box set that's headed my way. Good film. And a great soundtrack.

My Query

2008-11-24T12:45:00.010-05:00

I wanted to list my query here, and see what you think. I have a few versions of the letter depending on the requirements of the agent. Here is one such letter:

Thank you for taking time to consider me for representation. I've read your guest-blog post today, and after reading your information and client list at Publisher's Marketplace, I wanted to contact you regarding my first novel THE UNIQUE DESTRUCTION OF AN ORDINARY SOUL (contemporary fantasy; approximately 130,000 words). If I may, a brief synopsis:

Evander is an average young man looking for love and adventure in Baltimore. One lightning-wrought night he finds adventure and so much more when he meets the woman of his dreams, and quickly becomes an honest-to-god, blood-sucking vampire, as our protagonist puts it. And when a master vampire goes too far in persuading the new vampire to live under his House, Evander quickly begins to lose loved ones in a battle that eventually consumes the entire city, while the world heads on a course for nuclear destruction.

I'm currently an undergraduate student working towards a degree in English. Again, thank you for your time [mr. agent]. I hope to hear from you soon.

Respectfully

It's certainly not perfect, but I figured this is short and sweet, and hopefully will get them to read the synopsis or partial.

What The Hell Just Hit Me?!

2008-11-24T11:51:00.001-05:00

I hope this isn't a sign of things to come, especially with the holliday season upon us, but I haven't written AT ALL lately. Granted, I'm at the end of the semester too, but things have been just a bit ragged. The workspace I was planning has hit a snag and I'm stuck with only materials and no room to re-energize. And with the rejection letters coming in I am really not in the creative mood. That's really unfortunate. Like the recession, I seemed to have just slipped into a depression without even realizing it. I sit in front of the tube and flip, flip, flip away. I've become a freakin ZOMBIE!! Hell, I've forgotten what my gym looks like.

This just emphasizes for me that I can not afford to have a television in my writing space when it's all said and done. The damn thing is pure distraction that I don't want to tolerate any more. And maybe I should give myself some space. From writing, that is. Perhaps it will be good for me. Or maybe this is just the funk talking...

Rejection

2008-11-22T17:11:00.004-05:00

So I got a letter from JABberwocky today - it's my SASE envelope - and see that it's, of course, a rejection letter.

I'll just add that to the Pile. Thanks for the opportunity, JAB! So now I'm scratching my head and thinking there can't be that many more agents out there left... Self-publishing is starting to sound mighty possible.

Back to the query letter, I guess. I let this RL bother me for about 15 minutes. That's it, now I'm good again.

Ginger Clark @ Curtis Brown

2008-11-19T12:54:00.002-05:00

Another query emailed, this time to Ginger Clark at the prestigious Curtis Brown literary agency. Upon reading Ginger's page at Publisher's Marketplace, I figured she could empathize with my novel, considering her client list being profoundly Science Fiction/fantasy.

Marketing

2008-11-17T10:14:00.002-05:00

Is it ever too early to market your book? This question is retroactive to pre-publishing, too. I know very little about marketing. In fact, I guess I know nothing at all. My plan has always been, from the beginning, to get my story out there. To have people read it - that's the point to all of this. That's why this blog exists.

And yet now I find myself searching for new, constructive ways to market this book. So far, I've been searching for an artist for the cover. I have it completely planned out, but I could screw up a stick figure, so I'll leave this to the pros. I'm wondering if it's too soon to design a website. Would a website even work for an unpublished work? I don't know. These are things I am looking into to help market my first novel.

I've never had much use for an ego, but is self-promotion really egotistical? Or will it only hasten my prospect for publishing? Hmm.

One Chapter At A Time

2008-11-15T11:47:00.006-05:00

I'm taking fellow blogger Annie Wicking's advice, and going through UNIQUE chapter by chapter. The more I think about it, the more I want to clean up the story. I want to make sure the plot is not stale, and the characters are not just fodder. My goal tonight is to shave ten thousand words, and bring the count down to about 130,000.

Originally, I was shooting for 180,000 words. Wow was I way off. That would have just been too drawn out.

So now the outline begins, where I will highlight the main issues in each chapter, and recycle the unnecessary paragraphs. One thing I have to mention is that reading - especially in your genre - is so very important. There have been quite a few revelations with certain books I have been reading lately, and I am beginning (after six years) to see what a good story is all about.

So thanks for the advice, Annie. I have some direction now while I wait for the mail.

Writers House

2008-11-14T10:59:00.004-05:00

It's another beautifully gloomy Autumn morning, but for all I know, the birds are singing and my feet are dancing! I've just put together a proposal package for the Writers House literary agency, care of Jodi Reamer, Esq. They are a prestigious house with - in my opinion - (Mrs. Reamer's own) Stephenie Meyers topping their client list, and Laurell K. Hamilton, who I am also a big fan of.

They even reside in a wonderful historic building in New York that just makes you cross your fingers even harder. From the website alone you get the feeling that something special goes on in inside this building. And I want to be apart of that.

Pretty cool, right? Even without the sun today, it just feels all bright and warm. My own personal sunshine. Good lord, I have to get over myself...