West of Mars

Many of us hate the holidays for a variety of reasons. Family. Travel. Football. Too much food. Food you don’t like. Weather. Not enough Rock Fiction to drown out the drunken ramblings of Crazy Uncle Sal, who’s up in arms this year over the whole Penn State Scandal, and who’s not sick of hearing about THAT already?

Whatever the reason, it’s most likely not MY reason.

My reason is that I’m not online. Not working. Probably not reading and most definitely not writing. This year, it was partly due to a migraine that hit the day before Thanksgiving and lasted until… this morning. Yeah. Almost eight days. Whee. Fun.

That’s why I’m late letting you guys know of a fun interview I did with author Jess C. Scott.

It’s short, too, which is always the best kind (given that I do one-question interviews, don’t you think I agree?). Stop in, check it out, and be sure to say hi to Jess, will ya?

After all, this isn’t just networking for me. It’s for you guys, too. Meet another cool author. Maybe you’ll host her at your site. Maybe she’ll host you. You get how these things work.

It all begins with hello.

I don’t get myself sometimes. I recently read and reviewed Richard Hell’s Go Now, his 1996 novel(la) about a junkie road trip from Hell. It’s a good read, if you like junkie road trips. Me, I’m not big on them. I have a hard time connecting with junkie characters.

However, Richard Hell and his character Billy aren’t the same person. I know that. I would be disappointed if they were, to be honest: writing your life as fiction is a beginner’s move. It’s a necessary step on the path to being a great novelist/fiction writer. Which means that yes, shoved under a bed somewhere — probably my parents’ house because they hang on to that sort of sentimental stuff — is a book where the main character is an autobiographical version of me.

So… why am I not more eager to read Richard Hell’s memoir? I Dreamed I was a Very Clean Tramp.

Maybe because even the title make me think of Billy. Maybe because in the press release I found, there’s not a lot of information included.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. I’m not sure why I’m so resistant, to be honest. After all, this is what I do. Rock Fiction, Rock Memoir… if it’s about music, it’s what I’m about. Which means at some point, this will cross my threshhold and I’ll read it and… well, we’ll see where we go from there.

I just sat down to the news that Anne McCaffrey has died.

You may wonder what a Rock Fiction author like me is doing being upset about a Science Fiction/Fantasy author like McCaffrey.

Let’s just say she was one of the first authors whose world — that of Pern — set my imagination awing (yeah, I’m groaning at that one, myself). She taught me more about world-building and the way in which a book — or, in this case, a series of books — can be your best friend. Even today, when I need a comfort read, I turn to the original two trilogies. One of these days, I’ll even get my kids to read them.

I even wrote about my relationship to this series, back in 2009, as part of the Rosie’s Riveters series at BookLust.

We’ve known this day was coming, when we’d lose Anne. After all, life’s a cycle and there’s only one way out of it.

I hadn’t thought it would be yesterday, but I’m glad it wasn’t much sooner.

Rest easily, Anne. You did something I only aspire to: you changed lives. For the better.

I’ve known Jaimey Grant online for eons now. Always fast with a virtual smile or supportive saying, she’s awesome folk.

That’s why I’m honored to have her here today with not one but TWO songs that make her think of her newly released short story, The Dragon’s Birth.

Here’s Jaimey:

Crawl by Breaking Benjamin* brings my story to mind but only from Darok’s perspective (main protagonist). He’s a young king who hears a voice in his head. While wondering if he’s crazy, truly crazy, he’s trying to determine if the legends about dragon blood in his family are true. It doesn’t help that the voice in his head claims to be a dragon, a creature he’s been raised to believe is the epitome of evil, a monster.

A few of the lyrics that really stand out:

A shadow of a man, I am nothing less
I am holding on, still holding on
And every now and then life begins again
I am holding on, still holding on

I’m not like you, your faceless lies
Your weak dead heart, your black dead eyes
I’ll make it through, but not this time
You hope is gone and so is mine

Live, fight, crawl back inside
Sick, blind, love left behind
And I won’t live your weak wicked lie
You pull me in, I’m one step behind

…

I’m becoming a monster, just like you
After it all you’ll try to break me too
Falling forever, chasing dreams
I brought you to life so I could hear you scream

On the other hand, Lights Out by Breaking Benjamin* is just as appropriate but from Bental’s perspective (the main antagonist/dragon voice in Darok’s head). He’s a living being just like any other, but trapped in the head of little more than a child playing at king. He’s not a simple “evil” creature, but he is determined to escape Darok’s head, to become his own physical being, and he can’t be concerned with who gets hurt in the process.

The lyrics that really stand out to me:

I am done pretending
You have failed to find what’s left
I will suck you dry again
Some are not worth saving
You are such a pretty mess
I will choke the life within

Now you want to take me down
As if I even care
I am the monster in your head
And I thought you’d learn by now
It seems you haven’t yet
I am the venom in your skin
And now your life is broken

After the lights go out on you
After your worthless life is through
I will remember how you scream
I can’t afford to care
I can’t afford to care

*No copyright infringement intended. I am not in any way implying the endorsement of Breaking Benjamin. I’m just a fan. (Sorry, I felt the need to include that. One can never be too careful.)

For an excerpt of The Dragon’s Birth
The Dragon’s Birth on Smashwords
The Dragon’s Birth on Kindle

Okay, Susan’s going on the record here: I love Breaking Benjamin. Good picks, Jaimey!

I was washing dishes Saturday night and had the toonz on. Not an atypical event around these parts, but that doesn’t surprise you. Your favorite Rock Fiction Writer usually has the toonz blaring. And yes, I do like to do dishes. It’s a great time to let your mind wander through your characters’ lives. (WAIT until you meet the new gang!)

I knew the song currently playing was some old Stone Temple Pilots. I knew that. I did. I was even humming along, a little bit, in my own tone-deaf way.

And suddenly, I paused. The warm water kept flowing over my hands, the scrubby side of the sponge froze, poised over the roasting pan’s rack, and I told myself to breathe.

All of a sudden, the song (and don’t ask which it was. I couldn’t tell you) sounded like 1980s Whitesnake. Still of the Night, in fact. (Holy smoke, I’d forgotten Adrian Vandenberg was in the band back then)

For a second there, I wasn’t sure who had hacked my iPod.

And then the second passed, and Stone Temple Pilots sounded like Stone Temple Pilots again.

But I feel an odd desire to put on a push-up bra and go dance in front of my car. After I turn the headlights on. I’m not sure why.

More and more, I’m letting Chelle rant about doings in and around the music industry. Be sure to click on her category over there and check out how her voice has evolved and see which of her rants are based on real life. I’ll be honest about this one: it is. You may say it’s hypocritical of me, who is scarily dependent on her satellite radio, to let Chelle have this view, but c’mon. Chelle is fictional. Go with it.

Now, Chelle here don’t know what flavor Kool-Aid them peeps over at that big ole radio conglomerate must’ve drank to think this was some good idea to hitch their wagons to. It sure ain’t any Kool-Aid Chelle be wantin’ a taste of.

It don’t pass muster. Part of what makes this here music business so amazing is the way it regionalizes itself. That means, boys and girls not as savvy as Chelle here, that when you get off that airplane and move about the country and turn on the radio in whatever city you done wound up in, you hear different music. Different songs from them bands you know and love. Even better, you get to hear bands you never heard of. You get to bring it home and spread the love.

This is important stuff. It’s what gives each city its character, like the way jazz defines this fair city, and how jazz defines Chicago but in both places, jazz is an entirely different creature.

And metal. We got grunge outta Seattle, we got the Bay Area sound, we got LA and Hair Metal, we got Riverview and my ShapeShifter boys. You think all them individual sounds woulda come about if every single one-a them boys who listened to the radio back in the good old days heard the same old, same old?

That’s what we’re facin’, boys and girls. Everyone hearin’ the same music at the same time. Same bands. Same songs. Same, same, same.

And then all you music lovers go and complain how every band sounds ‘xactly the same.

Well, here’s some news for y’all! They do! That’s ’cause they all bein’ influenced by the same other bands and the same other songs out there. There’s nothin’ in anybody’s ears that sets them apart no more.

Even worse, there’s now hundreds and thousands of good folk who love music and who tried to devote their entire lives to it, who now gotta go find jobs. How many-a ‘em gonna get further than Wal-Mart? They be music lovers, just like you and me. And they out in the cold, which ain’t doin’ nobody no good. Especially the rest of us music lovers. You get what I’m sayin’?

You heard it first, and you heard it here: firin’ all them DJs only done a bad turn to a music world already hurtin’. There ain’t no music fans at that big corporation. If there are, they done sold their souls to the almighty dollar.

Yep, I’ve been out and about of late — again. It’s becoming a constant thing, so come join me and meet some new bloggers and readers, whydon’tcha? It’s a big world. Come play in it.

Demo Tapes 3 has been featured over at i write indie books. There may not be anything you haven’t already seen about DT3, but stop in and check out the site anyway. Authors, drop a line and get your book featured! Readers, look for other great reads. (And buy a copy of DT3 for a Christmas present for a friend, whydon’tcha?)

And then you can read a guest blog post I did with the fabulous (and I’m not just saying that) Jason McIntyre over at The Farthest Reaches. Jason’s one of those fabulous writers I mention here from time to time, and he’s a cool dude.

Have I mentioned I love the name Jason? I’ll have to create a fictional Jason in tribute…

Mmm. Talk about a recipe for ambrosia here, baby! I don’t know how this one slipped past my ever-vigilant eye, but thanks to the awesome Jeremy Wagner for the head’s up on it.

Have I teased you enough? Is it time to come clean and tell you what’s going on?

Two long-time, hard-core, die-hard (and any other compound adjectives I can think of, in a positive vein) Metallica fans have put out what might be my ultimate book. It’s called Murder in the Front Row: Shots from the Bay Area Thrash Metal Epicenter. These fans? They’ve transcended being fans, actually. They are a part of that Bay Area Thrash Metal Epicenter, themselves.

They are none other than Harald Oimoen (yes, the legendary Harald O) and Brian Lew.

Here’s the blurb:

In the 1980s, the San Francisco Bay Area was heaven for hardcore headbangers. Shunning Hollywood hairspray and image in favor of a more dangerous street appeal, the Bay Area thrash metal scene was home to Exodus, Metallica, Testament, Possessed, Death Angel, Heathen, Vio-Lence, Attitude Adjustment, Forbidden, and Blind Illusion — and served as a second home to like-minded similar bands like Slayer, Mercyful Fate, Anthrax, Megadeth, and more. Beginning as teenagers taking snapshots of visiting heavy metal bands during the 1970s, Brian “Umlaut” Lew and Harald “O.” Oimoen documented the birth and growth of the local metal scene. Featuring hundreds of unseen live and candid color and black-and-white photographs, Murder in the Front Row captures the wild-eyed zeal and drive that made Metallica, Slayer, and Megadeth into legends, with over 100 million combined records sold.

Dude. Can I say little inspires me more than pictures and visuals? This is manna from heaven. Ambrosia. It’s mainlined chocolate.

And it had better not let me down…

I’m over at the Indie Writers Association today, giving you a sneak peak of what comes after Trevor Wolff. Can anything come after him?

Time will tell…

Come on by and join me, won’t you?

I’ve known Julia Smith for eons now. Three lifetimes in a blogger’s life. Maybe more.

Julia and I have followed each other through some pretty major changes in our lives, and I’m thrilled to have her stop in today to talk about her new book, Saint Sanguinus. Which means, of course, that I asked her the Famed One Question Interview: What song makes you think of your book?

That is easy-peasy.

I wrote the initial draft of SAINT SANGUINUS while listening to the full length ballet score for Romeo and Juliet by Prokofiev.

The only hard part is choosing one section to share with your readers.

So I’ll have to go with the dark, dramatic tomb sequence from the final act.

Instead of Romeo and Paris fighting in the shadows of Juliet’s tomb, let’s picture a vampire clan surrounding our hero Peredur as he’s tormented by Lord Muirdach and given the choice to join them—or die.

Blurb:
An elite brotherhood stands between humans and vampires, preventing one side from annihilating the other. Who are called to this service? Only those warriors who curse God with their dying breath.

Welsh warrior Peredur falls to a spear before he can claim Tanwen for his bride. Raging on the battlefield, Peredur utters the curse that seals his fate and leads him to another life. Using the power of a saint whose bone makes up an amulet, Peredur takes on the trials to become a true member of the brethren. Yet his need for the chieftain’s daughter Tanwen still burns.
Tanwen resists her father’s command to take a husband. The only one who understands her sorrow is Cavan, the wise woman’s son. When he promises that he can reunite her with her beloved, she agrees to his terms. But does Tanwen truly understand the depth of the price that must be paid?

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