I'll Get Back to the Keyboard Eventually (#IWSG October 2017)

Holy shit! I've moved up to 102 on the IWSG list! I've nearly cracked the top 100! That's not really an accomplishment worth noting, but I've got to take what I can get. I'm also well over 6000 followers on Twitter! People like me, right?

I need to celebrate whatever I can. It's not like I got any writing done.

I didn't even do that much.

It's been a rough (rough) year for my family, and writing has fallen very far down the list of my priorities. I get up at 5:00 and rarely got to bed before midnight, and in all of that time I don't have many minutes to myself, let alone take the time to write. I've been forced to start driving to work every day, which is not preferred because as long-time readers know, my bus ride is usually my writing time. Not to mention parking where I work costs a fortune.

I watched about ten minutes of the new Marc Maron comedy special on Netflix. What I saw was pretty funny.

It sucks but it's life, and sometimes you have to deal with these things. There have been small improvements, so hopefully I'll get back to a regular schedule soon.

Oh, I've signed up for Patricia Lynne's "Trick-or-Treat Blog Hop" once again to give away free stories for Halloween. Only a few people have signed up so far, but enrollment tends to increase closer to the big day. Interested writers can sign up below:



For those not in the know, participating authors give away free books and stories on October 31 instead of teeth-destroying candy. Usually the stories are seasonally-themed, with ghost/supernatural/horror-type atmosphere, but I believe this year that particular requirement has been relaxed and everyone is free to give away anything they want. It's like getting Easter Eggs and Candy Canes for Halloween!

At the rate I'm going I probably won't have the new story I'd planned to give away finished in time, but I'm sure I'll find something appropriate to throw in the hat.

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October Question 

Have you ever slipped any of your personal information into your characters, either by accident or on purpose?

All the f***ing time.

Not as blatantly as some writers, though.

If you see a date in one of my books or stories, chances are it's a date important to my life somehow. I've also copied entire conversations I've had almost verbatim and used them in my writing. Even some that disgust reviewers who can't believe anyone would actually say such things.

Of course, in all cases I remove any context and change the details a little to remove any chance of guilt or shame, but I have had people call me out on it. Fortunately it's only people who already know me really well, and since there aren't many of those it's not picked up on very often. :-)

The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Writers post their thoughts on their blogs, talking about their doubts and the fears they have conquered. It's a chance for writers to commiserate and offer a word of encouragement to each other. Check out the group at http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/.

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Characters You've Never Heard Of: OULETTE

He rode down from the hills, his coat and boots stained with blood.  His fingers were scarred from burns sustained loading bullets into the red-hot chambers of his revolver. He had only two shotgun shells and a half-dozen .45 cartridges left.  He had broken both his tomahawks. Still, he was alive. It was a good day.

It was late afternoon when he reached the town, a village in the middle of nowhere too new to appear on any map. A pair of boys rushed out to meet the stranger, but turned tail and ran even quicker.  The stranger laughed. He looked like death, he knew, and in moments word that a half-dead bloody gunfighter was rolling into town would be on everyone's lips. He had not bothered to be subtle for he knew there were no secrets in a small town like this.

He hitched his horse outside the lone tavern on the dusty town's lone street and strolled in without hesitation. He ignored the eyes of the locals boring into him as he crossed the boot-worn floor to the bar.  The stranger was of average height and build, showing no particular distinguishing characteristics besides the blood and dust on his clothes.  He dropped his rucksack beside him.  He sat on a stool and felt the twinge in his back that had been giving him trouble since Abraham, and he put a scarred, bloody hand on the polished bar top.  When it came away a silver dollar glinted up at the barkeep.

The man behind the counter was a thick, burly man with cautious eyes and more hair on his big arms and broad shoulders than the top of his head. "What'll you have?" he asked, quickly pocketing the coin. The stranger knew he was the kind of man who had seen trouble before - and wasn't afraid to do something about it. There was probably an axe handle or club under the bar, if not a saw-offed twelve gauge.

"Food," the stranger said, and his thick accent drew even more attention. "And keep the whiskey coming."

"A Frenchman?" the barkeep asked, filling a shot glass.  "Looks like you had some trouble on the road.  Indians?"

"Something like that," the stranger replied, and slammed back the drink.  The barkeep topped it back up.

"We had some folks from Par-ee pass through on their way to San Francisco a while back. You don't look much like them."

"I'm Canadian," he said.

"Well I'll be damned. We got us an honest-to-goodness French Canadian up in here." The barkeep smiled at some of the locals.  "You folks a real country yet?"

- excerpt from the unpublished short story "Dead West"

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Source

I love zombies. I also discovered a few years ago that I somehow inherited my father's genetic disposition toward westerns (who knew Louis L'Amour was hereditary?). I also (also?) love to shoe-horn in some Canadiana wherever I can. So that's why I came up with Honoré Oulette, a French-Canadian Cowboy Zombie Hunter.

Inspired by a story in Max Brook's wonderful Zombie Survival Guide about a mysterious zombie hunter who travels the wild west putting down zombie outbreaks, Honoré is exactly that, but he's from Quebec. I thought the idea of a French Canadian gunfighter was a nice blend and contrast to the genre. France allied with America during the Revolutionary War, so there was also that nice background that Honoré could lord over the backward hicks of the towns he visited. He's a weird, distrusted and exotic foreigner that everyone shies away from, but when the shit hits the fan he's the only one they can turn to for protection.

In reality it's probably better in theory than execution, because I wrote one story and remember absolutely nothing about it. It was pretty lame. Maybe I'll have to revisit it some time.

Why I'm Afraid the Ice and Fire Author is Going to Die Before Finishing the Series

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

-Robert Frost

Much like his protagonists, George R.R. Martin does not have a long life expectancy ahead of him.  Not that I have any special or particular knowledge of his health, he just doesn't really look like the healthiest dude if you know what I mean.  I've been waiting nearly twenty years to find out how the damn story ends (A Game of Thrones originally came out in 1996), so you can imagine I'm starting to get a little impatient.