October 2024 in Review

Hello Funny People,

You know...I really do enjoy the early days of fall. Especially when hoodie weather finally makes its return. Rather sad how quickly this month went by, but it was quite the interesting time.

Two Cents Logo by Devora Johnson 

A Brief Recapitulation

Seemed like every weekend this month has had something going on. The first weekend was fairly calm, but things got crazy very quickly after that. Parties. Reunions. Other words that my highly introverted mind autocorrects to "sheer hell."

I won't claim to be completely socially inept. I have my moments where most people can't tell that I'm quite shy and introverted. In one-on-one situations, i can be downright charming. However, I'm pretty damn close to social ineptitude in situations that either involve a lot of people I'm unfamiliar with or settings with considerable amounts of loud music. Case in point 👉 one Sunday evening, I got invited to an engagement party of a long-time friend of mine. At the party was a live jazz quartet. Normally, this would be a net positive in my mind. I love jazz music; I listen to a lot of it while I write, among other things. However, as special surprise to the quartet was a very loud singer, whose voice I can best describe as a cross between Muddy Waters and James Brown. And he leaned in hard to the James Brown. Impressive, but ultimately overwhelming for me on a sensory level. 

Near the end of the month, I also visited my Godfather in the veterans nursing facility he recently had to move to. In his late 70s, he began to develop sign of vascular dementia. That's a form of dementia where your brain suffers a series of mini-strokes due to a lack of circulation to the brain. It's a slow decline, and my Godfather has been suffering through it for a while. He still recognized me though, and he still knew my Godmother. We visited from lunch time until dinner. The hardest thing to witness was the very clear sadness he was feeling as we left. 

That's the rough thing about dementia and Alzheimer's as conditions. It's like watching your loved one die twice. First, they slowly lose who they are—their memories, their sense of self—and then they pass. The only thing we can do is endure it and enjoy whatever time we have left with them for however long they still know us.

However, despite those moments of overwhelm this month, I was pleased to finally get to break out my hoodie officially. On Monday the 14th, we here in the Gateway to the West had our first morning in the mid-50s since late February, early March. And I was totally here for it. Hoodie season is back, and hopefully it will last a good little while. 

The Writing Life

#AmDrafting: The Novel Arena

Right at the end of September, I once again officially stalled out on the portal fantasy. Honestly, I'm not sure I'll even be able to bring myself to finish it at this point. Keep in mind, this was the book that I was drafting all the way through my horrendous experience of querying. And, I'm afraid, the story and the characters have been tarnished in my mind as a result of that. I couldn't bring myself to make progress on it. Any time I saw it sitting in my files, I cringed. This book was a reminder of the latest major failure in my writing career to this point.

By my mental tally, I was only 16 chapter from the end. But I couldn’t seem to make any progress. I didn’t know if I wanted to make any progress either. After the utter lukewarm interest my other manuscripts have gotten, I wasn't even sure if I wanted to keep writing longer fiction. I don't have the advertising or salesmanship skills necessary to make a good go of indie publishing (much as I've fantasized about it after all the rejections), and I didn’t have the motivation to get that kind of operation off the ground. This whole last year truly soured my attitude towards publishing in general. 

It made me angry and bitter, which is honestly pathetic. Publishing's a business, and if the gatekeepers don't think they can sell a thing, they're not gonna bother with it. Still, as much as agents beg compassion from writers all the time because of all the unpaid labor they have to do (which they wouldn't have to do if trad publishers weren't such corporate dicks by hiring slush readers in house instead of demanding writers have agents before submitting to editors), writers, imo, have it harder. We put months, years, of effort into these stories, and for all that mental.and emotional labor to get tossed to the curb based on a query letter, a synopsis, and 5-10 pages? UGH!

All that rage aside, it hasn't stopped me from continuing to write. As Gabino Iglesias (who I've come to think of as one of my writing Yodas), so aptly put it, "Not writing is not an option." In fact, just as my efforts on the portal fantasy forstalled (perhaps for good), I accidentally started a new project. 

I've stated it on this blog (somewhere, I can't recall where), that I have a habit of writing the opening chapter(s) of a new longer project. So, when my efforts to move forward with the portal fantasy crapped out, I started jumping between projects. 

There's another (non-space opera), SF novel—which I pitch as Jurassic Park meets Anaconda in SPACE—in the works that I did some tweaking on, even starting work on the second chapter. 

There's also a novella I've been meaning to get to for the longest time, which I pitch as Central Amerian Princess Mononoke for which I finished an opening chapter. 

And of course, there's my Charmed meets Fantastic Beasts One in COVID-era St. Louis, with Central American Cryptid Hijinks urban fantasy novel, which I also managed to finish two chapters for after finding the right voice for my narrator.

However, the one that caught fire was my VICIOUS × Priest of Bones meets Fullmetal Alchemist dark fantasy steampunk novel. Alinear narrative. Mob violence. A war coming to an end. Amoral people doing noble things for ignoble, selfish reasons. Trains. Airships. Industrial warefare. Blood magic bestowed by real neglected gods. It's the darkest thing I've ever let my mind conjure. 

This had been a book I'd been planning to write for years. It's the only idea I've ever had in which there are no good people. Everyone involved is a vile human being because of what they do. But, as is the case in the Age of the Antihero we live in now, if you can make readers understand why your bastard of a character does what they do, you make them the reader's bastard. You pull off that magic trick, your reader will root for you characters, even if they're objectively terrible people constantly making objectively terrible decisions.

As I said, I'd only intended to write the first chapter of this thing, just to capture some semblance of the tone and voice. But once I got that first chapter down...another chapter came. Then another. And another. Before I knew it I was writing 2000 words a day at times, and I was doing that daily. Daily. I don't get many 2k Days when writing, and I usually don't write every day because I worry about burn out. But this book? Before I knew it, my whole writing routine had changed.

I'm largely an afternoon writer, mostly because my dayjob work schedule allows it. I typically get about 1000 words done in a sitting. With this dark steampunk book, however. I'd get my customary 1000 done, and then I'd get anywhere from 500 to 1000 more done before going to bed at night. (I put that down to my vastly improved at-home writing set-up. Never underestimate the value of a comfortable chair and good keyboard.)

And while this first draft is probably not very good (yet; it's a first draft, after all, and they only need to exist), it's served a better purpose. It's made me excited to sit down and write again. This dark, messed up book gave my my love of writing back that the query trenches had nearly rung out of me. And I don't care how long it lasts. I'm riding this wave to whatever end it lands me at. For the first time in months, I'm happy again. 

I think, in large part, it's allowed me to pour all the negativity I've had in my mind because of this long disappointment of querying into someplace healthy. After all, my characters can be as vile as they need to be. That's the point of the story. I exorcize my bad feelings, and at the same time, I get to keep doing what I love: write. I've already got 33 chapter drafted, which is almost half my projected finished manuscript. Let's see if I can complete a draft of this thing by the end of the year.

Report on the Short Fiction Front

Mid-month, I received word from the EIC of Air and Nothingness Press, Todd Sanders, that the Inter Librarian Loan anthology was officially available for general sale.

Inter Librarian Loan Volumes 1 & 2

My divergence of Paula Hammond's original story "Fahrenheit 1500," features in Volume 2 of this project. I was delighted that Todd reached out to all of us who took part in the original three projects in 2022 and 2023 to take part. I'm also delighted that the OG author, Paula Hammond, apparently approved of my efforts. 

However, my part in this is done. The story is bound and out in the world. So, to all of you who are interested, who read and enjoyed the stories in the original three anthologies, I hope you'll enjoy these as well.

As for other big news on the Short Fiction Front, I've still yet to hear back from that pro-rate zine from whom I received another hold notice (my third one this year). However, after the disappointment of last month's double nos, and all the hold-notices-to-rejections I've had up to this point, I'm keeping in mind my late colleague, Ray Daley's advice, more than ever. Hold notices usually don't lead to anything, except a delayed no.

To end this section on a more positive note, however, I did get a chance to take part in one last workshop. 

On the 20th of this month, I opted to take part in one of Jonathan Maberry’s proffered monthly workshops. For a tiny sum of $50, which he donates to a charity that helps women and children, you too can take part in one of these, if a topic peaks your interest. This month's topic: How to Write and Sell Short Fiction. 

Now, I know what you're thinking. "WTF, Ian, are you bothering with a one-day workshop like that?  You've written and sold short fiction, including two stories for pro-rates. Why the hell are you bothering with this?" 

My reasons are twofold. 

For one, I took this workshop for the same reason an accountant or teacher takes professional development courses. I'm always eager for more education. It's the same reason I went to the workshop in LFK this past summer. I'm always eager to further hone and sharpen my craft. 

In addition, it's a course with Jonathan Maberry, arguably one of the more successful writers working today. This is a man who writes about four novels a year, writes and sells about 15-20 pieces of short fiction a year, and still finds time to write comic books (both independent and for Marvel and DC), and edit both Weird Tales Magazine and the occasional anthology. What up-and-coming writer of genre fiction wouldn't want to hear what he has to say about writing and selling short fiction? Plus, given I've been reading dozens of his books this year, from the Joe Ledger series, Sleeper Wars, his weird tale Necrotek, and his Kagen the Damned trilogy, I figured it was high time to actually make the gentleman's acquaintance in a small way. I ended up making about four pages of hand-written notes through the three hours of the course. I learned a lot, and hopefully, I'll be able to apply it in my own writing.

Unfortunately, one thing hiccupped the experience. It's a small thing, but it's worth documenting. When I logged into the Zoom call on which this took place, I'd forgotten that the last person who used Zoom on my computer had been my father. So, the name that hopped up under my hairy face on screen was his name, not mine. Moral: never let your parents use your computer, but if you do, make sure you double check all your programs so they're completely logged out of everything. These new machines automatically take the personal in personal computer literally. They assume: one device per person. So, there's no reason to auto-logout of anything.

Miscellaneous

So, on the 6th of this month, the very first Sunday, my family had to sit through one of the worst things I've ever had to experience. No, it wasn’t the creepy remake of CATS. It was much more insidious. On the first Sunday of October, my parents sat in their local Catholic Church here in STL when the pastor began his homily, and it was a homily on a very specific topic.

It was a homily all about why no member of the church should vote on Amendment 3. 

For those unaware, Amendment 3 is the ballot initiative that plans to enshrine the Right to an Abortion for all women (and all the reproductive medical care adjacent to it), into the Missouri State Constitution. The push for this bill began shortly after the fall of Roe, which was quickly followed by a snap declaration by our then-State Attorney General, Eric Schmitt (who is sadly now our junior Senator), that made anything Abortion-related illegal in the entire state. How bad has this trigger law been? Let's just say, if Texas didn't exist, Missouri would be the worst state for women seeking Reproductive Healthcare.

All last month, and through most of August, the wheels of government, which is dominated by a woman-hating GOP, tried to find a way to get Amendment 3 off the ballot. 

Jay Ashcroft—a man who has a front row seat in Hell waiting for him when he finally does the world a favor and dies—tried to chickenshit his way out by "revoking" his confirmation of the initiative, and Judge Limbaugh—another hellbound motherfucker, who I'm sure will enjoy seeing his cousin, Rush, again—tried to pronounce it invalid on a technical level. However, the final say in the matter rested with and went to the MO Supreme Court. After a single nail-biting day, in a 4-3 decision, the Amendment stayed on the ballot.

All things settled, right?

Nope. 

The wheels of government having failed, the Catholic Church went to work mobilizing its flock using the oldest trick in the book. Shame. The homily the pastor preached said that, should anyone vote in favor of the amendment, it would be the same as committing a mortal sin. Therefore, you'd either have to confess the matter and undergo the sacrament of reconciliation/confession before receiving communion again. And if you didn't, you'd be bound for Hell. 

Now, normally, I wouldn't bother talking about any of this. I don't believe any of this crap. But the fact that the Catholic Church feels emboldened enough to violate, in the most blatant fashion I've ever seen, the separation of church and state of this country pissed me off. The fact that they're attempting to shame their parishioners into voting a certain way, during mass, should be grounds for having their tax exempt status revoked in this country. 

I've never been a voter who's allowed his religion to impact my votes. I look at the bigger picture, and I look at what's good over the long-term, in addition to what's in my own interest and reflect my values. We don't live in a Christian Theocracy, much as some in this fucking country would love for that to be the case. The US is a multicultural, pluralist society, and has only become more so since 1964. That's the direction I want this nation to move in. And trying to take away rights, to make them illegal in fact, especially after they've been legal for so many decades, is not the right thing to do. So, even if I would never exercise a certain right or urge someone to do so, it doesn't mean someone else shouldn't be free to have it.

On election day, I'll be voting Yes on Amendment 3, and I will be glad to have done so when I do. And if that means I'm going to Hell, to quote Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, "All right, then, I'll go to Hell."

Political tirade over. On to other things.

I swore originally back in July that I wouldn't touch on this topic again. However, there's been a new development.

It appears that there are stuff such things as consequences for one's actions. While I do feel bad for the fans of the Good Omens show, who were hoping for a better resolution than a truncated 90-minute series finale, I'm also glad to see that people are taking these allegations seriously enough to take these steps. Seeing this, I also have a strong feeling that the Dead Boy Detectives show at Netflix wasn't canceled due to lack of ratings. That may have been the official story and probably the case, but I suspect there was another layer to it. Netflix recognized that they couldn't axe their flagship Gaiman-adjacent program, Sandman, to distance their platform from this ongoing dumpster fire. But they could take out its malnourished little cousin. That's pure conjecture on my part, of course, but it's conjecture with a sizable bit of supporting evidence.

The Rings of Power finale, which aired early this month was quite good. As with the final episode of the previous season, the episode was an interesting mix of tragedy and victory. The beginnings of the Last Alliance are starting to form, despite the fall of Eregion.

If I had to predict—always a bad idea, but I'll risk it here because I have nothing to lose—I'd guess that next season would either see the culmination of The War of the Elves and Sauron, or given the show's compressed timeline, the Fall of Númenor. Either is possible, given how short changed the Númenorian storyline was. 

For certain, the series has improved upon the groundwork laden by the previous season. And I'm gladden that the showrunners didn't bother with another season-long mystery box big reveal. However, things could still use a little sharpening up. We'll see how they move forward next season, whenever that drops.

The Penguin has been a weekly delight. Something about watching hordes of terrible people tear each other apart is always fun, especially when you realize the outcome is the rise of one of your favorite villains. 

All through this month, we've watched Oz scheme to pit the Falcones/Gigantes and Maronis against each other in the hope of creating a void that he could easily step in and fill. However, we've also seen him hit rockbottom, his schemes unveiled, his fortunes hit rockbottom, and his two adversaries unite.

The thing about rock-bottom is that one of two things can happen when you hit it: either the fall breaks you, or you bounce. And given the flow from episodes five to six, Oz will undoubtedly be back on top by the end of this series next month.

I adjusted my routine so I can get home in time on Thursdays to watch Matlock live. (That might be the second oldest sentence I've ever written.) As promised by the pilot, we get a fully resolvable, frequently social justice-adjacent legal drama, with a beginning, middle, and end, while still moving progress forward with the overarching (presumably season-long), narrative. One thing I've enjoyed about this show thus far, besides the great performances from both Kathy Bates (she didn't win that Oscar for nothing), and the supporting cast, is how this new Matlock broaches the topics of the racial wealth gaps, systemic racism, sexual harassment in the workplace, and generational divides and attitudes. The latter-most topic, of course, it often dips into for humor that cuts both ways toward the younger cast and Bates's character (a welcomed addition in any drama). The other three, however, it often explores through Matty and Olympia's dynamic and the cases the team takes on. Why do I like it so much? Because it's subtly normalizing these topics, on a network TV show, on the network CBS, which historically has always catered to an older demographic. It's slipping in subliminal messages about racial and social injustices in a way—the medium of a network TV drama—that people, who might not otherwise engage with these topics, are now engaging with them. And I bet most folks watching don't even realize it. 

As October ended, of course, I began watching as many of the Universal Monster Movies as I could as well. Both Prime and Tubi had a decent selection of them available, so I leaped at the chance to watch loads of them.

From The Invisible Man 

Naturally, I watched 1933's The Invisible Man, one of my absolute favorites. Claude Rains doesn't appear in the film until the final shots. Yet his voice and presence under the bandages and dark glasses sell the menace and growing madness of Jack Griffin as the drugs that made him invisible addle condition.

Then, of course, there are the effects. The scenes of the big reveal near the film's beginning, where Griffin shows the extent of his conditon. The clever camera work, the use of the velvet cloth over film negatives to make the actor appear invisible, the use of clever prop work and the work of the other actors to make it seem as though the invisible man is always present when he apparently isn't. Marvelous.

Béla Lugosi as Dracula

I also took the opportunity to watch the 1931 Dracula for the first time. It feels so quaint compared to the gore-fests we expect from our modern vampire movies (especially Coppola's later adaptation with Gary Oldman). As it leaves so much to the imagination. Yet there's something about it that's still mesmerizing. 

Most of that I put down to Legosi's performance. The man has a magnetism that never fails to draw my attention whenever he's on screen. Be it a scene where he's playing off one or more of his fellow cast members, a close up, or one of those shots where he's staring directly into the camera, his Dracula transfixes the eye. Such a shame though that the film is so uneven. There are moments where it's clear the editors intended for shots to lead to something (like Renfield's beastly toothy approach on the fallen maid), but studio interference clearly kept those sequences from becoming as effective as they could be. Also, the largely static camera movement is jarring, especially compared what we're used to now. 

Yet, despite its flaws, the movie also has its glimmers of brilliance. The sequence between Bela Lugosi's Count and Van Helsing, in particular, I found gripping. There was no music in the background of the film (sound tech was still new then, so the filmmakers didn't trust it yet), so there are no signals as to how we, the viewers, should feel. Nor are they're any cues or motifs to signal if the protagonist or antagonists are having the upper hand. 

This month's reads have again been dominated by Joanthan Maberry, but I did also manage to silp in a few, non-Maberry books.

Broken Souls by Stephen Blackmoore 

Not a bad title to being spooky season with, am I right? Following on from Dead Things, we continue following Necromancer, hitman, and PI Eric Carter after the fallout of the previous book. Haunted by his failure to save his best friend, his continued alienation from his ex-girlfriend, and his unfortunate unintentional marriage to Santa Muerte, a goddess of death, Carter now faces a new dilemma. A serial killer is hunting him, desperate to literally skin him alive and take the greater power his nuptials with the goddess of death have given him. But Carter, in classic "I'm not gonna play the sap for you," nor fashion, isn't going to let that happen. So, as he searches for a way to annul the marriage, he must also find a way to combat this killer and save his own skin. 

Rudy Sanda delivers another fantastic performance as Carter in the audiobook, further solidifying my personal affection for him 

Son of the Poison Rose by Jonathan Maberry 

Another reread for me, following on from last month's Kagen The Damned reread. Here, Kagen, along with his two BFFs Tuke and Filia, now find themselves on the run. While they halted the "legal" takeover of the Silver Empire in the final pages of the last book (partly thanks to a certain tentacle-faced Elder God stepping in), they didn't mange to defeat the Witch King. Now, with their faces known, they must try to avoid capture long enough to meet up with Mother Frey and her cabal of resistors to plan their next offensive. The Witch King, however, isn't going to sit and wait to die on his stolen Throne. Instead, with the help of a certain opal-eyed choas spirit and the returning forces of magic, he plans to take out Kagen and his friends using the very same thing he used to defeat the Poison Rose herself. (RAFO.)

This is the book where Kagen truly begins to rebound from his trauma. More so, despite his many flaws, he makes the choice to truly become the hero of his own story. One thing is clear though: war is coming to the former Silver Empire, and nothing will ever quite be the same again.

The Dragon in Winter by Jonathan Maberry

Normally, when I read a series, I take a break between installments to read something else. But because of how SOTPR ended, I jumped straight into Dragon in Winter. And I was not disappointed. Twist after twist, turn after turn, revelation after revelation—Jonathan Maberry knows how to write an explosive finale to a story arc. DIW makes reading the whole Kagen Trilogy absolutely worth it.

From what I understand, Maberry would really like to keep writing books in the world of Kagen. And eagle-eyed readers may indeed spot a few dangling threads through this novel that allow for more stories to follow. I beg all of you who enjoy epic fantasy to please buy, read, and talk about these books in your favorite online spaces. Now that the trilogy is complete, you have no excuse not to buy and read all three. Doing so may give Maberry the freedom to write more of these in future, and I'd love nothing more than to read them.

Code Zero by Jonathan Maberry 

The last Maberry (of this month), is my, so far, favorite of all of his Joe Ledger thrillers. Why? Because it completely backhands the biggest problem most series have: the rinse and repeat episodic structure.

Pretty much all of the Ledger books are self-contained. Yes, there are ongoing changes fo the status quo (notably, changes in the cast), that carry forward from one book to the next, and Maberry is not shy about bucking the status quo of his characters and allowing that damage and impact to linger. When characters die, they die, and the remaining cast feels that loss. When new characters enter the fray, they're not just walk-on cameos. They have a lasting impact.

The past, in other words, is always present. And as such, it always retains the power to haunt.

In Code Zero, Maberry takes full advantage of everything that has come before in the preceeding five books. He takes the zombiefying prion disease of Patient Zero, the genetic-specific viruses of Dragon Factory, the weaponized ebola of King of Plagues, and the vampire serum of Assassin's Code, and places them all in the hands of the single most dangerous person the DMS could face: another former operative-turned-adversary. Mother Night (named for the Kurt Vonnegut novel, an allusion a book nerd and Vonnegut fan like me appreciated), has genius level intellect, an understanding of the DMS's operations (including Mind Reader), similar to a Hugo Vox, and a mental profile eerily similar to everyone's favorite multi-personality smartass. The difference between Joe and her, however, is that Joe channels his fractured psyche towards improving the lives of others, while Mother Night has only one thing on her mind: ultimate, ego-stroking victory, and recognition of her superiority.

The plot is like playing a game of dodge ball with spikey spheres coated with poison. It's a culmination delighted to be read—but definitely not something anyone would want to experience.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chamber

I must confess...Long Way is a book I have been trying to read for a long time. At least, ever since I'd heard about it after it came out a decade ago. And I'd tried to read it twice before—and failed to do so. The main reason why, I believe, is I kept expecting this book to be something it wasn’t rather than engaging with it for what it is. Let me explain.

Long Way is that rare SF book that, on the surface, looks like something else. Picking it up, you'd probably expect a conventional action-heavy space opera (and to some degree, that's what i was expecting). But that isn't what this is. What it is, however, is a delight. Chambers uses the set-up of a lovely space opera to write one of the most cozy, character-focused stories I've ever read. One by one, as the crew of the ship Wayfarer makes their way to a part of space where they can do their job (basically, drilling hyperspace tunnels to connect one location to the next), we learn about them. We learn about their backstories. We learn about their cultures. We learn about the dynamics each character has with one another, be they adversarial, friendship, familial, or ambivalent,  and we watch as those dynamics shift over the narrative. And as they make their way to the eponymous small angry planet, we see how they deal with small emergencies that might occur when making such an extensive journey in a universe populated by different sentient species.

Through simple, clear prose style, rich with glorious dialogue, Chambers gives us a true "slice-of-life" tale set against a SciFi backdrop, that proceeded the current cozy craze in fantasy by almost nine years when she originally self-published it. And I'm totally here for it.

I must admit, I'm not sure if I'll continue with the series though. Not because I hated this book, but because it's my understanding that each of the three books that follow don't continue the stories of this cast in particular. I've fallen in love with them and want to spend more time with them. But never say never. In the future, if I'm feeling eager for a book-shaoed warm hug, maybe I'll pick up another Wayfarers book.

— IMC 🙃