tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79939449933008599152024-03-18T18:27:59.211-07:00Heath LowranceHeath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.comBlogger499125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-74205917582215932452018-06-17T17:24:00.001-07:002018-06-17T17:26:07.775-07:00Alfred Hitchcock Anthologies The Alfred Hitchcock anthologies<br />
<br />
<br />
There were celebrity film directors before Alfred Hitchcock, but none quite captured the popular imagination-- especially in America-- as much as this portly, droll Brit. After a successful career in his native England, Hitchcock made the transition to the States, where his reputation sky-rocketed, and his name came to be closely linked to tales of suspense, murder, and intrigue.<br />
<br />
Little wonder then that book publishers would seek his input-- or at least seek to appropriate his name and image-- for anthologies of suspense stories.<br />
<br />
Hitchcock was happy to accommodate them, apparently, because during a short period in the late '40's and another, much longer period beginning in the late '50's and lasting decades, the Hitchcock anthologies became a virtual cottage industry.<br />
<br />
The first anthology Hitchcock was reputedly involved in was a collection of novels by Eric Ambler called Intrigue (as an Ambler fan, I actually own this volume, from long before I developed an interest in the Hitchcock anthologies). The introduction is credited to him, and if he indeed wrote it, it's very likely the only time he ever did so. The first general anthology release was The Pocketbook of Great Detectives, in 1941, from Pocket Books. I’m not sure how much Hitchcock was actually involved in it (probably not much). I'm not counting it for our purposes here regardless, as it was a much more specialized volume and not in keeping with the format established after that, although the stories included in it are by some very well-regarded detective story writers and it's probably worth reading.<br />
<br />
In truth, Hitchcock himself had little or nothing to do with the any of the volumes over the years. He didn't select the stories, he didn't edit them, he didn't even write the introductions attributed to him. Most of that work, at least in the early period, was done by writer Robert Arthur. Hitchcock merely lent his name and image. And that was plenty to sell books.<br />
<br />
Arthur did an amazing job. His taste in stories was diverse, and his ability to select just the right tales to compliment each other in each volume was quite expert. He also did a pitch-perfect impression of Hitchcock in the wry, self-effacing introductions he wrote. Arthur’s stories would even pop up in the anthologies from time to time, and he would eventually create the "Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators" series of books for younger readers.<br />
<br />
Many of the later volumes here were edited by Eleanor Sullivan or Cathleen Jordan, long-time editors at Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine—they also had very good eyes for solid stories, although somewhat more oriented toward mystery as opposed to suspense in general as they moved into the 80’s.<br />
<br />
The publishing format changed dramatically around 1980, eventually losing the remarkable cover designs, the artifice of being selected and introduced by Hitchcock himself, and yes, even the (admittedly often cringe-worthy) titles. You may notice on this list that even by the late ‘70’s, the presentation and image of the books had begun to change, gradually going exclusively to hardcover.<br />
<br />
All of the hardcover releases (save the first two) were published by Random House until 1979, and the paperbacks by Dell. For me, the Dell paperbacks with the goofy titles and stylish, sometimes garish covers hold a great deal of appeal as a collector. Don't misunderstand, however. The covers and titles would mean nothing if the short stories collected in them weren't consistently entertaining. And they are entertaining indeed. The earliest volumes feature stories from a very wide range of sources, and often contain classic short stories by the likes of Brett Harte, Ambrose Bierce, and even H.G. Wells. As they went on, more and more stories from Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine were used until eventually AHMM became more or less the sole source. Some of the greatest suspense writers of their times were featured fairly regularly: Robert Bloch, Henry Slesar, Donald Honig, Jack Ritchie, C.B. Gilford, Hal Ellson, Fredric Brown, Donald Westlake, Lawrence Block, and the great Fletcher Flora, to name just a few.<br />
<br />
I researched this list primarily to help myself as a collector sort it all out, as the publication history was pretty convoluted, but if it winds up being useful to anyone else, well, it will have been worth the time. There was a bit of online detective work involved, but I had a solid starting point: I owe a great debt to my friend Todd Mason for his knowledge and insight on the subject, the Hitchcock Zone, and especially the website Casual Debris in putting this together. My goal was to make it as simple and easy to understand as possible, but if you’re looking for more details about these anthologies, I recommend those sites.<br />
<br />
Comments, criticisms, and corrections are more than welcome.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The Dell Paperback anthologies<br />
<br />
Dell was the sole paperback publisher of Hitchcock anthologies in the US from the beginning to the end. Several of the titles were reprinted over the years with new covers; I’m not going to go into all the reprint history, unless a book was reprinted with a different title or there is some otherwise notable detail.<br />
<br />
<br />
*Suspense Stories: Collected by Alfred Hitchcock (1945)<br />
(reprinted with one story replacement in 1964 as 14 Suspense Stories to Play Russian Roulette By)<br />
*Bar the Doors! (1946)<br />
(Reprinted in 1962 under the same title, except without the “!”)<br />
*Hold Your Breath (1947)<br />
*Fear and Trembling (1948)<br />
*Suspense Stories Selected by Alfred Hitchcock: Thirteen Tales of Tension (1949)<br />
(Reprinted in 1963 as A Baker’s Dozen of Suspense Stories. Not to be confused with<br />
Suspense Stories: Collected by Alfred Hitchcock, from 1945, despite the nearly identical title.)<br />
<br />
<br />
There were no more Hitchcock anthologies after that for ten years until the "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" television show began in 1955. It was a hit show, and a couple years later they began marketing anthologies again to capitalize on the program's success.<br />
<br />
Note: In 1961, A Bouquet of Clean Crimes and Neat Murders was released. I mention it because it’s sort of the odd man out here. First, it was the only single author collection released under the Hitchcock banner, devoted exclusively to the stories of frequent AHMM contributor Henry Slesar. Second, it wasn’t published by Dell, but by Avon Books. Despite the fact that it doesn’t quite fit into this list for those reasons, I highly recommend it. Slesar was a terrific writer.<br />
<br />
<br />
*12 Stories They Wouldn't Let Me Do on TV (1958)<br />
(Reprints part of Stories They Wouldn't Let Me Do on TV hardcover)<br />
*13 More They Wouldn't Let Me Do on TV (1959)<br />
(Reprints rest of Stories They Wouldn't Let Me Do on TV hardcover)<br />
*14 of My Favorites in Suspense (1960)<br />
(Reprints first part of My Favorites in Suspense hardcover)<br />
*More of My Favorites in Suspense (1961)<br />
(Reprints remainder of My Favorites in Suspense hardcover)<br />
*12 Stories for Late at Night (1962)<br />
(Reprints first part of Stories for Late at Night hardcover)<br />
*More Stories for Late at Night (1962)<br />
(Reprints remainder of Stories for Late at Night hardcover. Reprinted in 1977 as Skeleton Crew)<br />
*Bar the Doors (1962)<br />
(Reprint of 1946 title of same name, only dropping the “!”)<br />
*A Hangman's Dozen (1962)<br />
*16 Skeletons from My Closet (1963)<br />
*A Baker’s Dozen of Suspense Stories (1963)<br />
(Reprints Suspense Stories Selected by Alfred Hitchcock, from 1949)<br />
*14 Suspense Stories to Play Russian Roulette By (1964)<br />
(Reprints Suspense Stories: Collected by Alfred Hitchcock, 1945, except the replacement of <br />
“Leiningen Versus the Ants” by Carl Stephenson with “Never Kill for Love” by C.B.Gilford)<br />
*Once Upon a Dreadful Time (1964)<br />
*Stories My Mother Never Told Me (1965)<br />
(Reprints first part of Stories My Mother Never Told Me hardcover)<br />
*Witches' Brew (1965)<br />
(Not to be confused with Witch’s Brew, 1977 hardcover release*note the different spelling of<br />
“Witches'”)<br />
*Anti-Social Register (1965)<br />
*More Stories My Mother Never Told Me (1965)<br />
(Reprints remainder of Stories My Mother Never Told Me hardcover)<br />
*Stories Not for the Nervous (1966)<br />
(Reprints first part of Stories Not for the Nervous hardcover)<br />
*Noose Report (1966)<br />
*More Stories Not for the Nervous (1967)<br />
(Reprints remainder of Stories Not for the Nervous hardcover)<br />
*A Hard Day at the Scaffold (1967)<br />
*Coffin Corner (1968)<br />
*Games Killers Play (1968)<br />
*Skull Session (1968)<br />
*Death Bag (1969)<br />
*Happiness is a Warm Corpse (1969)<br />
*Murders I Fell in Love With (1969)<br />
*Murders on the Half-Skull (1970)<br />
*Get Me to the Wake on Time (1970)<br />
*Scream Along with Me (1970<br />
*This One Will Kill You (1971)<br />
*Slay Ride (1971)<br />
*I Am Curious (Bloody) (1971)<br />
*Down by the Old Bloodstream (1971)<br />
*Rolling Gravestones (1971)<br />
*Dates with Death (1972)<br />
(Reprints A Month of Mystery hardcover)<br />
*Terror Time (1972)<br />
*Death Can Be Beautiful (1972)<br />
*Happy Deathday! (1972)<br />
*A Hearse of a Different Color (1972)<br />
*The Best of Fiends (1972)<br />
*Death-Mate (1973)<br />
*Let It All Bleed Out (1973)<br />
*Stories to Stay Awake By (1973)<br />
(Reprints first part of Stories to Stay Awake By hardcover)<br />
*More Stories to Stay Awake By (1973)<br />
(Reprints remainder of Stories to Stay Awake By hardcover)<br />
*Boys and Ghouls Together (1974)<br />
*Coffin Break (1974)<br />
*Bleeding Hearts (1974)<br />
*Behind the Death Ball (1974)<br />
*Grave Business (1975)<br />
*Murderer's Row (1975)<br />
*Murder Racquet (1975)<br />
*Speak of the Devil (1975)<br />
*Stories to Be Read with the Lights On, Volume One (1976)<br />
(Reprints first part of hardcover of Stories to Be Read with the Lights On hardcover)<br />
*Stories to Be Read with the Lights On, Volume Two (1976)<br />
(Reprints remainder of Stories to Be Read with the Lights On hardcover)<br />
*Don't Look a Gift Shark in the Mouth (1976)<br />
(Reprints 14 of My Favorites in Suspense from 1960)<br />
*I Want My Mummy (1977)<br />
*Stories to Be Read with the Door Locked, Volume 1 (1977)<br />
(Reprints first part of Stories to be Read with the Door Locked hardcover)<br />
*Stories to Be Read with the Door Locked, Volume 2 (1977)<br />
(Reprints remainder of Stories to Be Read with the Door Locked hardcover)<br />
*Skeleton Crew (1977)<br />
(Reprint of More Stories for Late at Night, from 1961)<br />
*Having a Wonderful Crime (1977)<br />
*Murder-Go-Round (1978)<br />
*Killers at Large (1978)<br />
*Breaking the Scream Barrier (1979)<br />
(Reprint of paperback Stories to Be Read with the Lights On, Vol 2, from 1976, inexplicably)<br />
*Death on Arrival (1979)<br />
*Alive and Screaming (1980)<br />
(Final Dell paperback)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hardcover anthologies<br />
<br />
**Fireside Book of Suspense Stories (1947)<br />
(From Simon & Schuster. The introduction and some of the stories originally appeared in 1945’s<br />
paperback Suspense Stories: Collected by Alfred Hitchcock)<br />
**Stories They Wouldn't Let Me Do on TV (1957)<br />
(Second and last release from Simon & Schuster)<br />
**My Favorites in Suspense (1959)<br />
(first release from Random House, which would remain the hardcover publisher for the next 20 years)<br />
**Stories for Late at Night (1961)<br />
**Haunted Houseful (1961)<br />
(for “young readers”)<br />
**Ghostly Gallery (1962)<br />
(for “young readers”)<br />
**Stories My Mother Never Told Me (1963)<br />
**Monster Museum (1965)<br />
(for “young readers”)<br />
**Stories Not for the Nervous (1965)<br />
**Sinister Spies (1966)<br />
(for “young readers”)<br />
**Stories That Scared Even Me (1967)<br />
**Spellbinders in Suspense (1967)<br />
(for “young readers”)<br />
**A Month of Mystery (1969)<br />
**Daring Detectives (1969)<br />
(for “young readers”)<br />
**Stories to Stay Awake By (1971)<br />
**Stories to Be Read with the Lights On (1973)<br />
**Supernatural Tales of Terror and Suspense (1973)<br />
**Stories to Be Read with the Door Locked (1975)<br />
**Witch's Brew (1977)<br />
(not to be confused with Witches' Brew from 1965*note the different spelling of “Witch’s”)<br />
**Stories That Go Bump in the Night (1977)<br />
**The Master's Choice (1979)<br />
(Final hardcover release from Random House)<br />
**The Best of Mystery (1980)<br />
(Hardcover release from Galahad Books, edited by Harold Q. Masur)<br />
<br />
<br />
The 1980s saw the Hitchcock anthologies go exclusively to hardcover releases, published in the US by Davis Publications, which had acquired Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine in 1975. Beginning in ’76, with “Tales to Keep You Spellbound”, Davis published a total of 27 hardcovers collecting the best stories from that magazine. They overlapped with the final few Random House publications. The quality of the stories remained high, but it was the end of an era of remarkable packaging. In 1989, the Davis Publications hardcovers ceased; the final three anthologies listed here, in the early ‘90s, were all published by different houses.<br />
<br />
Following are the Davis Publications hardcover releases, edited by Eleanor Sullivan or Cathleen Jordan (listed here separately for the sake of clarity):<br />
<br />
**Tales to Keep You Spellbound (1976)<br />
**Tales to Take Your Breath Away (1977)<br />
**Tales to Make Your Blood Run Cold (1978)<br />
**Tales to Scare You Stiff (1978)<br />
**Tales to Send Chills Down Your Spine (1979)<br />
**Tales to Be Read with Caution (1979)<br />
**Tales to Fill You with Fear and Trembling (1980)<br />
**Tales to Make Your Teeth Chatter (1980)<br />
**Tales to Make Your Hair Stand on End (1981)<br />
**Tales to Make You Weak in the Knees (1981)<br />
**Tales to Make You Quake & Quiver (1982)<br />
**Your Share of Fear (1982)<br />
**Death-Reach (1982)<br />
**Fatal Attractions (1983)<br />
**Borrowers of the Night (1983)<br />
**A Choice of Evils (1983)<br />
**Mortal Errors (1984)<br />
**Crime Watch (1984)<br />
**Grave Suspicions (1984)<br />
**No Harm Undone (1985)<br />
**Words of Prey (1986)<br />
**A Mystery by the Tail (1986)<br />
**A Brief Darkness (1987)<br />
**The Shadow of Silence (1987)<br />
**Most Wanted: First Lineup (1988)<br />
**Shrouds and Pockets (1988)<br />
**Murder & Other Mishaps (1989)<br />
<br />
At the end of the ‘80s, Davis Publications stopped releasing the Hitchcock anthologies. The final three hardcover anthologies, released in the early 1990s, were published by other publishing houses. They were:<br />
<br />
**Home Sweet Homicide<br />
(1991, Walker & Co Publishers)<br />
**Tales of the Supernatural and the Fantastic<br />
(1993, Smithmark Publishers)<br />
**Fun and Games at the Whacks Museum and Other Horror Stories<br />
(1994, Simon & Schuster, a collection of stories from AHMM and its sister publication Ellery Queen<br />
Mystery Magazine)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Following are releases from UK publishers, paperbacks unless otherwise noted. Most of these are reprints of the American editions, but the few that are “original” are marked as such in bold font. Pan Books was the primary publisher in the UK, with Four Square in 1966, ’67, and ‘68 putting out seven originals. As far as I’ve been able to determine, these original titles were edited by Peter Haining:<br />
<br />
**My Favourites in Suspense- Part One (1962)<br />
(Hardcover reprint of first part of American edition. It appears a Part Two was never published)<br />
*My Favourites in Suspense- Part One (1963)<br />
(Paperback reprint of first part of American edition. It appears a Part Two was never published)<br />
*Stories for Late at Night- Part 1 (1964)<br />
(Reprint of first part of American hardcover edition, in paperback)<br />
*Stories for Late at Night- Part 2 (1965)<br />
(Reprint of second part of American hardcover edition, in paperback)<br />
*Haunted Houseful (1965)<br />
(Hardcover reprint of American edition)<br />
**Ghostly Gallery (1966)<br />
(Hardcover reprint of American edition)<br />
*Guaranteed Rest In Peace (1966)<br />
(Four Square Publishing, original paperback release)<br />
*Ghostly Gallery (1966)<br />
(Paperback reprint of hardcover published earlier that year)<br />
*This Day’s Evil (1967)<br />
(Four Square Publishing, original paperback release)<br />
*Behind the Locked Door (1967)<br />
(Four Square Publishing, original paperback release)<br />
*Meet Death at Night (1967)<br />
(Four Square Publishing, original paperback release)<br />
*Anyone for Murder? (1967)<br />
(Four Square Publishing, original paperback release)<br />
*The Late Unlamented (1967)<br />
(Four Square Publishing, original paperback release)<br />
**Stories That Scared Even Me (1968)<br />
(Hardcover, reprint of American edition)<br />
*Stories Not for the Nervous- Book One (1968)<br />
(Reprint of first part of American hardcover edition, in paperback)<br />
*The Graveyard Man (1968)<br />
(Four Square Publishing, original paperback release)<br />
*Stories Not for the Nervous- Book Two (1969)<br />
(Reprint of second part of American hardcover edition, in paperback<br />
*This One Will Kill You (1972)<br />
(Reprint of American Dell edition)<br />
*A Month of Mystery- Book One (1972)<br />
(Reprint of first part of American hardcover edition, in paperback. It appears a Book Two was never<br />
published)<br />
*Get Me to the Wake on Time (1974)<br />
(Reprints American Dell edition)<br />
*Stories to Stay Awake By- Part One (1974)<br />
(Reprint of first part of American hardcover edition, in paperback)<br />
*Stories to Stay Awake By- Part Two (1975)<br />
(Reprint of second part of American hardcover edition, in paperback)<br />
*Grave Business (1977)<br />
(Reprints American Dell edition)<br />
*Witch’s Brew (1977)<br />
(Reprints American Dell edition)<br />
**Witch’s Brew (1978)<br />
(Hardcover version of paperback from previous year)<br />
<br />Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-34046489319772397842016-07-13T16:32:00.001-07:002016-07-13T16:32:32.892-07:00Speaking of movies...<br />
... I could be wrong, but I think my generation may have been the last one to have any deep appreciation of films that came before we were born. That's not meant as a disparaging remark about younger people; it's just that the options for discovery aren't there anymore. You can't really thumb through the channels and just stumble across some old black & white flick now. Yeah, there's TCM, and probably a couple of others, but that's it. And the thrill of "accidental discovery" is long gone. Quite literally hundreds of channels to choose from, and still so little in the way of old movies.<br />
<br />
I grew up in the '70's, before the dawn of cable, and we had four or five channels to choose from. And I was a fairly obsessive television watcher. Cartoons, of course, and cop shows and syndicated sit-coms. But it was MOVIES that always gave me a thrill, movies usually made long before I was born, that gave me weird, tantalizing peeks into exotic and mysterious worlds.<br />
<br />
In the Detroit area, the 4 O'CLOCK MOVE happened every weekday, coinciding perfectly between the time you finished your homework and the time dinner was ready. They would often have "theme weeks"-- "Elvis Week" was always something to look forward to, and "Godzilla Movie Week" was extra-special.<br />
<br />
In the summer time, or on those days you stayed home from school, there was BILL KENNEDY AT THE MOVIES. Bill Kennedy was a bit player in Hollywood back in the day, and mostly showed classic flicks from the '40's and '50's. It was through his show I had my first glimpse of actors like Bogart, Mitchum, Jane Russell, Spencer Tracy, Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, etc, etc.<br />
<br />
Black & white. Loved it.<br />
<br />
Saturday afternoons: SIR GRAVES GHASTLY. A cheesy horror movie host in the grand tradition, Sir Graves showed me the old Hammer Horror-- Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing-- as well as Roger Corman's Edgar Allen Poe adaptations, all in glorious blood red color.<br />
<br />
If you forced yourself to get up early on Sunday morning, your day would start at 8 with an Abbot & Costello movie. Then some shorts, like Laurel & Hardy or Our Gang. After that, Tarzan would usually swing in, although sometimes it would be Shirley Temple instead (always a massive disappointment to me at the time) or a Blondie & Dagwood movie with Penny Singleton and Arthur Lake. I liked those, but mostly because I had a crush on Penny Singleton. If you were really lucky, you'd catch a Thin Man movie, because Myrna Loy was even more alluring than Penny.<br />
<br />
Sunday afternoon was CHILLER THEATER time. The credits started with that creepy interlude from the Led Zepplin song "Whole Lotta Love" (I wonder if they had permission to do that?) and showed a lot of horror/sci-fi from the '40's and '50's, movies about giant ants and flying saucers, as well as the Universal Studios monster movies.<br />
<br />
And in the evenings, there would almost always be a movie showing at some point, usually a drama or period piece. Late nights, if you managed to stay up, would be poorly-preserved flickering black & white images of places and things that seemed so alien-- men with guns and fedoras and dangerous slinky females and big black cars and rain and street lamps and one-room apartments-- that they were like artifacts from ancient times. Film Noir, although at the time I had no way of knowing that.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
In my teens and early 20s, I developed a special affection for horror films, old and new, and was more than a little obsessive; I'd even venture to say there isn't a horror film made before around 1987 I haven't seen. But eventually I outpaced that hang up, fell in love with the aforementioned film noir, transferred my obsession to that.<br />
<br />
In my late 20s, I discovered Buster Keaton and fell in love. Buster is STILL my go-to when I'm feeling depressed. His films always cheer me up.<br />
<br />
In my 30s, I discovered the joys of foreign films. The Japanese stuff, like Kurosawa, of course, but also the great Italian neo-realists like Fellini and Antonioni. The French as well, especially Jean Renoir. The great stuff from the Golden Age of British crime movies, in the late 60s and early 70s. Not long after that, I became obsessed with westerns and WWII movies.I would never have thought twice about any of that if I hadn't developed a deep love of film from an really early age.<br />
<br />
The jist of all this is, because our young brains were exposed to all this great cinematic art, we developed a specific set of references that went far beyond our own experience and our own lifetimes. When I talk to someone now in their teens or twenties, and they have no idea who Buster Keaton is, or the Marx Brothers or William Powell or Vincent Price or Greta Garbo, it makes me a little sad. It's not their fault; they missed out. They missed it all. So many viewing choices now, and yet the options have never been fewer.<br />
<br />
I know there are plenty of young people out there now who have a deep appreciation of old movies, and again I want to stress that I'm not being dismissive of newer generations. But they're sort of a specialized little group, removed from the mainstream. But when I was coming of age, this sort of thing was probably a bit more of a given. It was just always there.<br />
<br />
I think I was really lucky to just catch them, those last few years before it got late and the station played the National Anthem and signed off.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-1763299080006891532016-01-14T07:57:00.000-08:002016-01-14T07:57:14.817-08:00Look up here, I'm in Heaven. Goodbye, David Bowie.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CH4LJIaSQOs/VpfEuVzEnCI/AAAAAAAAD1M/Gd-5aM1R45Q/s1600/bowie3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CH4LJIaSQOs/VpfEuVzEnCI/AAAAAAAAD1M/Gd-5aM1R45Q/s1600/bowie3.jpg" /></a></div>
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In the early 80s, MTV didn’t have a whole lot of videos in
their catalogue, so if you had that station on for more than say six hours, you’d
wind up seeing the same stuff over and over again. That’s really how I first
came to be aware of David Bowie. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I mean, I knew who he was before that, sure. His early stuff
was a staple of Detroit radio. You’d hear Ziggy Stardust all the time, and
Rebel, Rebel, and Panic in Detroit. I liked all that stuff. But I wasn’t really…
attached to it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The David Bowie I saw on MTV, though… it was a different
artist. One that really got right into my guts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I still remember the first time I saw a Bowie video, and
man, that’s saying something, considering the shit quality of my memory in
general. It was Fashion, from the 1980
album Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps), and I remember my brain going on the
fritz for the duration of that song, my eyes glued to the TV, my stomach doing
some weird fluttery shit I didn’t understand at the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The song, of course, was amazing, but it was more than that.
It was this guy, this Bowie. He was so… odd. And so fascinating. He was
beautiful. I’m as heterosexual as they come, honestly, but there was more than
a little bit of a sexual response. In later years, it would become kind of a
joke: would you have sex with a man? Naw, I don’t think so… unless it was David
Bowie, har har har.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But he and his music came into my life at a sort of key
juncture, a moment when I was changing into a young adult, on the verge of
discovering who I really was. I was a weirdo and an outcast, a freak with a
weird eye and zero confidence.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But here was this Bowie guy…he ALSO had a weird eye. But
confidence? Damn. An IMMEASURABLE amount. He was clearly weird, and he clearly
didn’t give a shit what you thought about that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This was the same year I discovered punk rock, via my friend
Lana, and all of this period of discovery that happened so fast and so
intensely shaped who I would be for the rest of my life. I learned to embrace
my outcast status and weirdness and it is no exaggeration to say it was because
of David Bowie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When a Bowie video would come on MTV, it didn’t matter what
I was doing, everything came to a halt and I was completely committed to it.
They played Fashion a lot, but also Ashes to Ashes, Look Back in Anger, I am a
DJ, Heroes… he was one of only a few artists with an extensive video backlog,
and so appeared frequently.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tajgeJjdHAs/VpfE2XsFHxI/AAAAAAAAD1U/VP9GGkDh5Zo/s1600/bowie2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tajgeJjdHAs/VpfE2XsFHxI/AAAAAAAAD1U/VP9GGkDh5Zo/s1600/bowie2.jpg" /></a></div>
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As I embraced the post-punk lifestyle with more and more
enthusiasm, I bought my first Bowie album: Scary Monsters. It’s still probably
my favorite. But eventually I possessed his entire discography, and realized that
it was his late 70s stuff that really spoke to me. Beginning with Station to
Station, then into his Berlin period, and ending with Scary Monsters. This was
experimental, vital music from an artist at the top of his game, so moody and
so smart, and so committed to a really singular artistic vision. Even at that
young age, I recognized what David Bowie was—he was an artist with real
integrity, a freak who didn’t care that he was a freak, and who had somehow
made the world love him and embrace him for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I can’t even begin to tell you how inspirational that was to
a young man like me, who wanted to hold on to who he was but who still desired
love and acceptance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And guess what? I followed Bowie’s example. And it worked.
My late teen years, I was a different person. I embraced who I really was, I
didn’t care anymore what anyone else thought, and because of it I gained
friends…. And yes, girls. Mostly other weirdos, but you know… confident weirdos
hold a great deal of appeal for the “normals” as well. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In that regard, David Bowie shaped who I would be for the
rest of my life. More than any other artist.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the late 80s, I spent a lot of time in Detroit’s various
post-punk nightclubs and bars, doing my best to look and act like David Bowie.
I experimented a bit with bi-sexuality, because I wanted to be open to new
experiences… like Bowie. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Girls liked my weird eye. I heard many times: “Your eyes are
beautiful…. Like David Bowie….”<o:p></o:p></div>
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And he would continue to be there, forever after.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When the album Let’s Dance came out, Bowie’s very deliberate
(and highly successful!) attempt to reinvent himself as a pop star, I was on
board. I knew what he was doing, as did most of his hardcore fans. He was
playing yet another role. And even if we turned our noses up at radio friendly
pop, we gave Bowie a pass, because it felt like an infiltration of the
mainstream, an art spy in the ranks of our enemy. And besides, it was fucking
GOOD pop music. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He masqueraded as a pop star for the bulk of the 80s, with
varying results depending on the album, but by the 90s he had shrugged that
persona off as being too artistically unfulfilling, and moved on to riskier
sounds again. He probably outstayed the pop star thing, but I was all too
willing to forgive him that. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the years since, I’ve always been excited at the prospect
of a new Bowie release. His personal re-inventions weren’t as extreme or easy
to categorize in the 90s and 00s, but I’m sure that was deliberate. After
playing so many roles in his lifetime, I’m sure he was happy to just express
himself more directly, without couching it in a character. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I loaded up his last album, Blackstar, the day it came out.
I didn’t listen to it that day, because I wanted to wait until I had the time
to just sit and do nothing but listen, without distraction.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He died two days later.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I made the time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dNPpiWJVUvs/VpfE_enLfcI/AAAAAAAAD1c/ad5ynghVfd8/s1600/bowie1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dNPpiWJVUvs/VpfE_enLfcI/AAAAAAAAD1c/ad5ynghVfd8/s320/bowie1.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Blackstar, if you haven’t heard it yet, is… it’s haunting.
It’s beautiful and mournful and even a little playful. It’s the best work he’s
done since Scary Monsters, in my opinion. Is that assessment colored by the
melancholy of his death? It’s possible. But so what. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve listened to Blackstar four times now. In-between, I’ve
been listening to older stuff, all my favorite Bowie tracks. I suspect I will
be doing that for many days to come.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I cried when I heard the news that he had died. I have never
in my entire life shed tears for the death of a famous person. But David Bowie
was different. He was my role model, and my hero. I would not be the person I
am today if Bowie had not come into my life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-27194634418252752452015-08-01T06:17:00.000-07:002015-08-01T06:17:00.686-07:00Dark Corners V. 1, issue 4, and Gideon Miles by Ron Scheer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sqG1zSM3Gds/VbzGjCC52mI/AAAAAAAAD0U/3KjPR9R1Q10/s1600/51wWbNAQzFL._SX331_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sqG1zSM3Gds/VbzGjCC52mI/AAAAAAAAD0U/3KjPR9R1Q10/s320/51wWbNAQzFL._SX331_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
Dark Corners, if you don't already know, is the creation of my friends Craig and Emily McNeely, a quarterly digest of pulp-style fiction ranging from noir to westerns to sci-fi and everything in between. The new issue is out, and I have a lovely story of domestic bliss in it called "The Good Step-Dad". But don't let that throw you. There are also tales from Ed Kurtz, Will Viharo, Warren Moore, Ryan Sayles, William Wallace, Steve W. Lauden, and more.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l7JdVPwYMpU/VbzGr1MGHnI/AAAAAAAAD0c/C6XNnKXLxK8/s1600/11265017_445035722325138_3628534028056742995_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l7JdVPwYMpU/VbzGr1MGHnI/AAAAAAAAD0c/C6XNnKXLxK8/s320/11265017_445035722325138_3628534028056742995_n.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
<br />
One of the highlights is a McNeely-penned tribute to our recently departed friend, the great Ron Scheer, which gives me the perfect opportunity to mention his upcoming book from Beat to a Pulp, MILES TO LOST DOG CREEK. I wanted to mention it because it's a Gideon Miles story. Yep. One of the last things Ron worked on was a tale of our favorite black U.S. Marshall. It's coming soon, so keep your eyes open.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, be sure to pick up the new Dark Corners. It's available on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0134QMJGY/ref=cm_sw_r_udp_awd_EiaVvbWQWMNP8" target="_blank">Kindle</a> and in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1515286991" target="_blank">paper</a>.Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-81861743223953113872015-07-10T10:55:00.001-07:002015-07-10T10:58:49.400-07:00Loving some bad reviews<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know, honestly, how much impact reviews have on book sales. But I still like getting them, on Amazon or Goodreads, or personal blogs. A good review always serves as a little ego boost that might make you feel good about what you do for a few minutes or a few hours, depending.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bad reviews, though they serve no real purpose and I am generally unaffected by them, are sometimes entertaining as well. Once in a while, someone who leaves a bad review will actually make some valid points, but the majority of them are just kinda... well, they are what they are. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's a little collection of one-and-two-star reviews of my work on Amazon. This is not me railing against bad reviews, I promise; I have enough of an ego that they don't really bother me too much. But if you're a writer disturbed by readers who hate what you do, maybe this will serve as a reminder that ALL of us get 'em, and let's be honest: if everyone enjoyed what you do, odds are you'd be doing something wrong. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enjoy!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">DIG TEN GRAVES-- "Not thrilling or scary, or even remotely shocking.-- <span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;">I got this book for free for my Kindle, and glad for it. The book seems to be written by a college student going for his English degree."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I was left with the impression that the author could benefit from counselling."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #111111;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;">MILES TO LITTLE RIDGE-- "Not enjoyable.-- </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;">the language in this book was offensive and unnecessary for me. often the reviews mention this but I missed it if any did. I didn't compete the book."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;">"Meh.-- </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;">He writes well but he doesn't know his Western history. Get a fact-checker, Lowrance; it would be worth the money."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">THE BASTARD HAND-- "Dreadfully dull. Don't waste your time."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"A disappointment. All the characters seem to have an ulterior motive... and none good."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yuck!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I'm used to more quality literature. But you can try."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CITY OF HERETICS-- "<span style="background-color: white;">Read till the end but felt. Bit let down. Ok if there was very little else to read, but not the best I have read."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-25784923496988917492015-04-15T07:08:00.001-07:002015-04-15T07:08:11.589-07:00Noir at the Bar Chicago<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hjDEVt3oZPs/VS5wwvo5aSI/AAAAAAAADzY/0qwoGSlvlPY/s1600/11146242_10205664947934469_4334829912651803157_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hjDEVt3oZPs/VS5wwvo5aSI/AAAAAAAADzY/0qwoGSlvlPY/s1600/11146242_10205664947934469_4334829912651803157_n.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
I've wanted to make one of these Noir at the Bar events for a long time now, but circumstances haven't permitted until now. I'll be at this one, reading, signing, drinking, etc, along with some of my favorite indie writers: Jedidiah Ayres, Libby Fischer Hellmann, Jake Hinkson, Kent Gowran, and Dan O'Shea.<br />
<br />
If you're in or around Chicago on the 30th, swing by. It should be fun.<br />
<br />Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-49661913565496904252015-03-31T14:09:00.001-07:002015-03-31T14:09:47.094-07:00Reading from The Bastard HandLast Saturday in Grand Rapids, writer Chris DeWildt had a reading/signing for his new novel, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Love-You-Pulp-CS-DeWildt-ebook/dp/B00TLB35II/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1427836100&sr=1-1&keywords=love+you+to+a+pulp" target="_blank">LOVE YOU TO A PULP</a>, and he was kind enough to ask me to be a guest reader. I was happy to oblige. Our friend Mary Alles recorded both of us on her phone. If you're interested, here's me talking a bit about my definition of "noir", and reading the first scene from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bastard-Hand-Heath-Lowrance-ebook/dp/B004YR55KA/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1427836141&sr=1-1&keywords=the+bastard+hand" target="_blank">THE BASTARD HAND</a>.<br />
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/LILiBP5qRz4/0.jpg" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LILiBP5qRz4?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-66036696104579458442015-03-07T05:07:00.001-08:002015-03-07T05:07:28.887-08:00Gideon Miles returns in Edward A. Grainger's Helltown Shootout<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vO7CbxVKDn4/VPr3yl8NlNI/AAAAAAAADy4/I1GCUGLAa68/s1600/11024725_390493727779338_585021685645869554_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vO7CbxVKDn4/VPr3yl8NlNI/AAAAAAAADy4/I1GCUGLAa68/s1600/11024725_390493727779338_585021685645869554_n.jpg" height="320" width="210" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Edward A. Grainger (aka David Cranmer),the creator of Western outlaw heroes Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles, has returned with a blistering action story featuring Gideon, "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hell-Shootout-Laramie-Gideon-Miles-ebook/dp/B00UB84TPS/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1425637850&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Helltown Shootout</a>". Readers of this blog know I have a special place in my heart for Gideon, having penned two of his adve</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">ntures so far, so having the character's creator come roaring back with a new adventure is an event. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Naturally, Grainger's take on the Marshall is spot on, and every bit as rounded and fully-realized as any hero in a Western story has ever been, and reminds me once again why I was so attracted to Gideon in the first place. This one, "Helltown Shootout", finds the level-headed and pragmatic lawman up against overwhelming odds as he takes on an entire gang of outlaws in a thrilling cat-and-mouse series of violent encounters. Allies are scarce in Helltown, and Gideon Miles finds himself pretty much on his own, relying only on his quick wit, blazing Colt, and trusty spring-loaded wrist blade. In the epilogue, Grainger gives us some nice insight into Gideon's processes, and the things that inspire him as one of the first black U.S. Marshall's in the Wyoming Territory. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">This is the 10th volume of the Cash Laramie/Gideon Miles series, following three collections of stories, and a handful of short novels by Grainger, Wayne D. Dundee, Nik Morton, and myself. Highly recommended for fans of fast-paced action yarns.</span>Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-89279679059824852112015-02-23T14:05:00.002-08:002015-02-23T14:10:30.549-08:00When Everybody Dies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UGYbvr_gjlk/VOukBubBC5I/AAAAAAAADyA/QFkct-t9R-w/s1600/spoilet-alert-everybody-dies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UGYbvr_gjlk/VOukBubBC5I/AAAAAAAADyA/QFkct-t9R-w/s1600/spoilet-alert-everybody-dies.jpg" height="320" width="313" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">What would we do,
then, if we woke up Thursday morning to find that, overnight, 80% of the world’s
population had died in their sleep? Would we/should we mourn? Let’s say, oh,
nobody you loved croaked. Just some people somewhere else. If you live in the
city, turns out all those folks out in the country died. Or if you’re rural,
well… only city dwellers are gone now. All of them, save for a scattering of
lost and confused individuals, probably wandering around those suddenly still
streets with dumb and vacant looks on their faces. They lost loved ones, you
didn’t, and so you watch on the news, in awe over your coffee but untouched,
you watch those cheeks streaked with tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">What if they didn’t
die peacefully? What if it was agonizing? Would it touch us any deeper?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Those lost souls,
they would have died writhing in pain, blood pouring from their ears and noses
and mouths. They’d be found in the morning twisted into ungodly shapes, like
those mummified victims in Pompeii. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">What if it DID
affect us, oh so slightly, in that we lost cousins or distant aunts. We could
tell our story of heartbreak at work that day. “Yeah, it’s crazy. I tried to
call cousin Jim all morning, but the news guy said just about everyone in Port
Huron is gone. Sad. I’m gonna miss him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">You won’t miss him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">80%, gone. All over
the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Hell, there probably
wouldn’t BE any news about it. All the media outlets would dry up, because the
suits and hairstyles that operate them would be gone. Statistically, every
member of Congress would be dead too. The president as well. Every world
leader, except maybe a couple, but they would be powerless because all the
lackeys that enforce their wills would be twisted in death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">What if it DID take
your loved ones? Your husband. Your kids. Your mom. What if you had to watch
them scream and howl themselves into blackness, their faces contorted and
blood-streaked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">You might wish you
were amongst the dead. You might kill yourself, not able to face this new,
silent world. Who could blame you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">All the fears that
have driven you your entire life would become hollow things with no meaning
then. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">And the worst part,
the very worst part, is that somewhere in the farthest regions of the darkest
corners of the back of your brain, you would KNOW this had to happen. It couldn’t
end any other way. And the planet will carry on without our teeming, swarming
masses, it would thrive, really. It would do better than EVER. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">Until, a few
thousand years from now, we humans make a comeback, maybe, we populate
ourselves right to the precipice again, we eat up every resource available to
us, we place an almost holy sanctity on the value of our own lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: rgb(246, 247, 248); color: #373e4d; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%;">And round and round.<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-88931239575596047522014-12-16T12:05:00.001-08:002014-12-16T12:09:27.513-08:00The First Novel Experience, re-visited<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This bit appeared originally at Ed Gorman's blog, a few years ago, in a slightly different form. It seemed like time to re-visit it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometime back, I wrote this book, the one that’s now called The Bastard Hand. I wrote it without any thought about a market or an audience or a future. It was just something that kept eating away at me, wouldn’t get off my back until it was done. It took a long time. I mean, a real long time. But one day I was shocked to discover that I’d actually finished the damn thing. I’d finished it, and I had no idea what to do with it.<br /><br />If you haven’t read it, I’ll tell you this much: The Bastard Hand is a violent, profane, black comedy-noir-southern gothic. There are no good guys in it, and no bad guys either, not really. There’s just some messed-up people, doing messed-up things. All my personal obsessions got poured into it along the way, and it wound up being a bizarre hodge-podge of genres and influences.<br /><br />But you know what? I thought it was a pretty good book. I still think so.<br /><br />For a while, though, it seemed as if I was the only one who felt that way. After the usual editing and polishing up, I did my research and started sending that sucker out to literary agents, one or two at a time. I’d send it off, and sit back to wait for the fame and fortune due me as the creator of this weird literary mess.<br /><br />I didn’t wait long. The rejections flooded in like a tsunami. There were a lot of the usual “not right for us” sort of things, but also the occasional “no clear market” or “difficult to categorize”. I even got a few “too offensive” and “too depressing” comments.<br /><br />After about a year of this, I gave up. Just shelved it. This book I’d poured every bit of myself into seemed destined to die alone on some street corner, bumming change from every passing James Patterson or Michael Connelly. But so what? It happens every day, doesn’t it? Some wanna-be strips himself bare on the page, bleeding out his guts, only to be ignored. Sad, but true. I resolved to start working on something new and forget all about The Bastard Hand.<br /><br />Some time later, I started my blog, Psycho-Noir, more or less just to spout off about books, movies, etc. Maybe even to promote myself a little. On a whim, I posted the first chapter of The Bastard Hand there, along with some short stories and essays I’d written.<br /><br />And one day… one fine day… I get this e-mail from a guy calling himself Bassoff. Jon Bassoff, from New Pulp Press. Said he liked that first chapter, wanted to know if I’d be interested in showing him the rest. I checked his bone fides and found he’d published 10 or 12 very highly regarded books—and had even done a reprint of an old Gil Brewer!<br /><br />I sent The Bastard Hand off to him, not expecting anything, to be honest. He’d read it, and write back saying, “Ah, sorry, my mistake. Not quite right for NPP” or, even worse, he’d just “lose” my e-mail.<br /><br />But that’s not what happened. He loved it.<br /><br />Weird, huh?<br /><br />So flash-forward a little over a year, and The Bastard Hand comes out and holy shit, everyone seems to like it a lot. Not just readers of nasty crime fiction, but some of my own literary heroes—Allan Guthrie, Megan Abbott, Dave Zeltserman, Vincent Zandri…<br /><br />Reviews at genre websites are uniformly positive. People are saying REALLY NICE THINGS.<br /><br />And I take it all very personally, you know? Because this book was very personal to me, just like most first novels, I’ve been told.<br /><br />As a bonus, I made some great new friends, people who share a common interest in this thing we call noir. They enriched my life, above and beyond the success of the novel. And many of them went to great lengths to promote my work, and to help me ease my way through the professional stuff (of which I was absolutely clueless).<br /><br />I've written a number of things since then. But that moment, that weird, invigorating time in my life in which my first novel came out and struck a chord with readers and writers alike, is something I know I'll never get to experience again. It was remarkable, and yes, life-changing.</span><br />
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Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-77617830696617032322014-12-12T15:45:00.000-08:002014-12-12T15:52:08.200-08:00The Horror of the Eye, Redux<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tzFy2MlKUFM/VIt8tRnbEYI/AAAAAAAADxk/yXwa0nkVGIE/s1600/img085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tzFy2MlKUFM/VIt8tRnbEYI/AAAAAAAADxk/yXwa0nkVGIE/s1600/img085.jpg" height="137" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Some of you already know this story. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">When I was about three years old, I had an accident that destroyed the vision in my right eye. I don’t really remember any of it, but from what I’ve been able to figure out from my mom and other sources, I’d found a broken Coke bottle in the front yard (we lived off a dirt road where teenagers would often speed by and toss things out their windows) and decided for some reason that playing with a broken bottle was JUST the thing to do. The teen-age girl who was baby-sitting me at the time freaked out when she saw what I had. She moved to knock the bottle out of my hand, and wound up hitting it directly into my face.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">The result was a cut iris and a severed muscle on the left side of the eye. I was rushed to the hospital, where, because my mom was poor and didn’t have insurance, I was left waiting in the emergency room for over an hour—in shock.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">They didn’t bother to try to fix the damage. For a few months after that, I wore an eye-patch, and oddly enough, had to learn how to walk all over again. My balance was shot, so it was a challenge. I remember, vaguely, walking down the hall and veering off, running into the wall. I also remember laughing about it, until looking up to see my mom in tears. Weird memory.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Since then, I’ve had some small amount of peripheral vision in that eye, but just barely. Cover up my left eye and I can’t see shit, really. And since the muscle was severed, the right eye drifted to the right.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Believe it or not, this messed-up eye never had much effect on my life. When I was a kid, the drifting effect was hardly noticeable. As a teen, when it started drifting more, it still wasn’t too bad—this was the post-punk ‘80’s, remember, and wonky eyes (a la David Bowie) could actually work in your favor when it came to girls (which was more or less my sole concern in those days). </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">In the last ten years or so, though, the drifting had grown continuously worse, to the point where I got occasional head-aches from it, and it was more immediately apparent to people I met. I’d gotten a bit self-conscious about it, for the first time in my life. Whenever I saw photos of myself, I was always startled and a bit mortified. The eye sorta made me look like a sleazy psychopath. And I am NOT sleazy.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">…which is my long-winded way of explaining why I had the surgery to repair it almost exactly a year ago now. The vision in my right eye is beyond repair, and the cut iris also, but they were able to pull the eye back into place and center it, and you know what? It's made a huge difference this past year. It's uncanny how much things change when you can actually look people in the eye without being self-conscious.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">I still look like a sleazy psychopath, but at least I'll look you straight in the eyes while creeping you out.</span>Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-64395775576296835702014-12-09T00:23:00.001-08:002014-12-09T13:31:30.395-08:00A Mean Review of the First 3 1/2 Books in Stephen King's Dark Tower Series<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QNKZqLe1AF0/VIawmZVGbyI/AAAAAAAADw4/UUMGZovSDe0/s1600/gunslinger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QNKZqLe1AF0/VIawmZVGbyI/AAAAAAAADw4/UUMGZovSDe0/s1600/gunslinger.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I waited a long time before sitting down
to tackle Stephen King’s epic series, The Dark Tower. Mostly because I knew it
would be daunting. Most of King’s longer work is. I’m a big fan of his short
stories—in fact, I would say he’s among the finest practitioners of short
stories alive today. His collections EVERYTHING’S EVENTUAL and FULL DARK, NO
STARS are brilliant examples of emotional, intelligent and insightful
story-telling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I mention that just so you know I’m not a “King
Hater”. Hell, even many of his novels still work for me, like THE SHINING, THE
TALISMAN (possibly my favorite), SALEM’S LOT, and even ODD THOMAS (<a href="http://litreactor.com/columns/every-stephen-king-novel-summarized-in-140-characters-or-less" target="_blank">hello, MaxBooth, you sly dog!</a>).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Anyway, with that established, you’ve
probably guessed from the title of this post that I kinda-sorta HATED THE FUCK
out of The Dark Tower.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Oh, it didn’t start with full-on hate. In
fact, I sort of liked it at first. It was a gradual thing, the build up to
loathing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The first book in the series, THE
GUNSLINGER, was actually pretty enjoyable. It was relatively short for a King
novel (which means it was normal book size for the rest of us). And the premise
was simple: Roland, the Gunslinger, chases the Man in Black across the
Wasteland, for what reason we know not at that point. Along the way, he
encounters Jake, a boy ripped from our world and stranded in Roland’s, and, in
one of the highlights, the two of them journey through a creepy underground
passage, fight some horrid monsters called Slow Mutants, and Roland makes a
chilling sacrifice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I liked it, and began the second book
immediately.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6W6C1A32yD8/VIdqG1OZQdI/AAAAAAAADxU/5Xfk2HeuKSg/s1600/The_Drawing_of_the_Three.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6W6C1A32yD8/VIdqG1OZQdI/AAAAAAAADxU/5Xfk2HeuKSg/s1600/The_Drawing_of_the_Three.jpg" height="320" width="223" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> THE DRAWING OF THE THREE was longer and
the story considerably more complex, but at that point I was still in King’s
corner. I enjoyed the directness of Roland’s mission, crossing over into our
world in different eras to seek out, rescue, and utilize the individuals he would
need to complete his quest. And there were some genuinely great bits—the thing
I remember most about it now was Roland’s rescue of Eddie Dean, a heroin addict
and drug mule who would be essential to Roland. King leeched every bit of
suspense out of that scene as was humanly possible, and when I honestly thought
he couldn’t stretch it any further without snapping, he pulled it off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> But the first signs of eventual rot began
showing around the same time. Eddie Dean was… well, he was one of the most
irritating characters I’ve ever read about in my life. I hated him so very
much, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t what King intended. I think he meant
Eddie to be jokey and flip and always ready with a wisecrack to lighten the
mood, but he comes off instead as immature, inappropriate, and obnoxious. If I
was Roland, and the success of my journey depended on Eddie Dean, I would just
kill the fucker and say forget the whole deal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> The other central character, Odetta/Detta,
was almost as annoying. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> In the third book, THE WASTELANDS, Eddie
just gets more and more obnoxious, and the story starts to feel more and more
bogged down in extemporaneous drivel. World-building, I suppose they call it,
and perhaps someone more versed than me can find something to enjoy in all that
Tolkien bullshit, but gah… I really, really wanted King to just get on with it.
The uneasiness, the feeling that the honeymoon was going to end that I’d
started to feel toward the end of the second book, really hit home with the
third one. Long bits of it were just no fun anymore. And Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…
why wouldn’t he ever shut the fuck up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> And remember the sacrifice Roland made in
the first book? Well, no problem, because in THE WASTELANDS he gets to sorta
UNDO it and everything is groovy with Jake again. So that emotional high point in
the series is rendered null and void. No worries (although, to be fair, it is
hinted that Roland may yet again make the same sacrifice farther down the road
if need be. Maybe he does, I wouldn’t know and don’t care now).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> So I finished THE WASTELANDS feeling a bit
annoyed and not really keen on the idea of starting the fourth one, WIZARD AND
GLASS. But at that point I still felt like I had the strength to carry on and I
guess I really wanted to say I’d read THE DARK TOWER series.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> WIZARD AND GLASS starts with our heroes
captives of a crazy train who hates them. The train is called Blaine. Blaine
the Train.Yep. And Eddie saves the day by being fucking obnoxious Eddie and
telling stupid fucking jokes. Blaine the Train pulls a Star Trek and
short-circuits, because Eddie is JUST THAT ANNOYING.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rTP4W6JR5Rc/VIdp5VEJZ2I/AAAAAAAADxM/B7cCcgqGtFI/s1600/694212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rTP4W6JR5Rc/VIdp5VEJZ2I/AAAAAAAADxM/B7cCcgqGtFI/s1600/694212.jpg" height="245" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> All that took, like, a thousand pages. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> After that, Roland sits them all down and
starts telling them a long, boring story about how he fell in love with Susan
Delgado and how he got his guns and his mother and father and blah blah blah,
and if I had thought the sequence on Blaine the Train had taken WAY too long,
this “story-within-a-story” just pushed me right over the edge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I literally threw the book across the room
and gave up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I packed up the remaining books in the
series, as well as the ones I’d already read and threw those fuckers in the
trash. I waited for the garbage man to make sure he took them far, far away. I
suppose I could have just given them to the library, but ONE, I’m sure they already
had more copies of it than they knew what to do with, and TWO, why would I do
that to my fellow human beings?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I know a LOT of people who really love THE
DARK TOWER, people with taste I admire in most things. My apologies to you
lovely people, but I think you might be defective in this one area.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> And for anyone who wants to scold me for
being mean to Stephen King, let me remind you again that I’m generally a fan.
And honestly, I think he will be just fine, don’t you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I guess that’s all I have to say about
that. In conclusion, fuck THE DARK TOWER and the Blaine the Train it rode in
on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-70760061602242035372014-12-08T08:43:00.003-08:002014-12-08T08:46:44.356-08:00"Don't you know smoking is bad for you?"<div style="border: 0px; font-family: HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue Light', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-stretch: inherit; margin-bottom: 10px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Ed parked the car in the middle of the parking lot and he and Betty walked hand in hand toward the store. They passed a man leaning against a car, smoking a cigarette.</div>
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"Disgusting," Ed said, waving a hand at the thin billowing cloud of smoke. "What a vile habit."</div>
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The man flicked his cigarette away and grabbed Ed by the lapels. “My smoke bothering you, buddy?” he snarled.</div>
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"I…I…" Ed said, as frightened Betty looked on.</div>
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"I’m outside, away from everyone, just trying to enjoy a quiet smoke," the man said. "And I still have to listen to whiny, judgmental little fuckers like you." He cuffed Ed on the jaw and shook him back and forth.</div>
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"But… but… second-hand smoke."</div>
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The man pulled Ed’s face close to his and said, “Oh, are you afraid you won’t live long enough to enjoy another double bacon cheeseburger?” He poked viciously at Ed’s flabby mid section.</div>
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"Smoking is bad for you!" Ed revealed.</div>
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"You know what’s also bad for you?" the man said. "Not minding your own damn business and bothering other people. You know what? You’re going to have a cigarette now, you bitchy little fuck."</div>
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"What?"</div>
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The man let Ed go long enough to pull a pack of smokes out of his pocket. He jammed one in Ed’s mouth.</div>
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"You’re going to smoke it," he said.</div>
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"But I don’t—-"</div>
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The man pulled a revolver out of his other pocket and pointed it at Betty.</div>
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"Smoke it or your wife dies!"</div>
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Ed had no choice but to accept the man’s light and smoke. Sobbing and coughing, he finished the cigarette in four long drags.</div>
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Then his lips fell off and he immediately died from cancer.</div>
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The smoker lived another four years. He died after being hit by a bus.</div>
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Betty died eight years after that, of chronic alcoholism.</div>
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The End.</div>
Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-54982298984352980592014-11-18T07:37:00.000-08:002014-11-18T07:37:34.845-08:00Questions at Curiouser and CuriouserAmanda Gowin, author of the story collection RADIUM GIRLS, asks me some weird questions over at <a href="http://curiousinterviews.wordpress.com/2014/11/17/heath-lowrance/" target="_blank">Curiouser and Curiouser</a> today.Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-21737172901909314582014-11-10T09:42:00.003-08:002014-11-10T09:44:11.374-08:00Four more Westerns from Elmore Leonard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1SIh0oR254/VGD4y76FO2I/AAAAAAAADwQ/SoTQAiSo6AI/s1600/last-stand-at-saber-river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1SIh0oR254/VGD4y76FO2I/AAAAAAAADwQ/SoTQAiSo6AI/s1600/last-stand-at-saber-river.jpg" height="320" width="210" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not long ago, I shared my thoughts here on <a href="http://psychonoir.blogspot.com/2014/09/four-elmore-leonard-westerns.html" target="_blank">four Western novels from Elmore Leonard</a>, and promised to do the same with the remaining four once I finished up with them. Well, here they are, then:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">LAST STAND AT SABER RIVER</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Paul Cable, having fought on the Confederate side during the war, has returned with his family to his homestead on the Saber River, only to find that his land has been taken by the Kidstons', two wealthy brothers loyal to the Union. Cable thought he'd left the fighting behind him, but it seems he's now in the for fight of his life, not just for his home, but for the lives of his family as well. He has a possible ally in Southern sympathizer and gun-runner Janroe, but Janroe, who would like to see the Kidston's dead, may turn out to be Cable's worst enemy in disguise.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">This one is very strongly about the concept of honor and family; Cable is reluctant to kill, even though Janroe makes an argument that it's STILL a war that's being waged, only without uniforms. LAST STAND AT SABER RIVER has a somewhat relaxed pace for the first 3/4s, even though there are some startling moments of action and violence. It really gets moving, though, in the last fourth, when revelations come to light and loyalties shift.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">There are three female characters-- Cable's wife Martha, Luz, the girl who works at the store Janroe has taken over, and Duane Kidston's bored daughter Lorraine-- but all of them are remarkably well-drawn and believable for a Western written in the 1950's. Especially Martha. That was pretty refreshing. Yes, a rescue of Martha and the children takes place at the climax, but Martha has a hand in rescuing herself as significant as her husband. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Not my favorite Leonard Western, but very solid nonetheless.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tddN2kGOet0/VGD46cXvuRI/AAAAAAAADwY/KEIzZD0fw0c/s1600/bounty-hunters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tddN2kGOet0/VGD46cXvuRI/AAAAAAAADwY/KEIzZD0fw0c/s1600/bounty-hunters.jpg" height="320" width="192" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">THE BOUNTY HUNTERS</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Seasoned scout Dave Flynn is partnered with the young, inexperienced Lt. Bowers on a covert mission across the border to hunt down Apache bandit Soldado. But once in Mexico, the pair find themselves in the middle of an unfolding crisis-- corrupt rurales, under the command of Duro, have subjagated a small village where Flynn has old friends, and Duro is making money off so-called Apache scalps brought in by a blood-thirsty band of bounty hunters. But the scalps don't necessarily belong to Apaches; in fact, some of the the villagers themselves have fallen prey to the nasty scalp hunters. Flynn and Bowers must set things right before they can carry out their own mission.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">This is Elmore Leonard's first novel, but it's not the work of an amateur by any means. Leonard had already honed his chops writing short Western stories, and the careful structure of THE BOUNTY HUNTERS gives testament to that. It's a fine piece of work, although not really replete with a lot of the things we would come to think of later as Leonard hallmarks. The dialogue doesn't snap the way his later work does, but instead performs a function at all times. The influence of Hemingway is very obvious. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Like many of his other early Westerns, the last chapter is really thrilling and action-packed, with our heroes seemingly against the wall and in dire trouble, and the whole thing ends on a very satisfying note.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ghieIvUcEdY/VGD5AFqHK9I/AAAAAAAADwg/tehJwFkB8c8/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ghieIvUcEdY/VGD5AFqHK9I/AAAAAAAADwg/tehJwFkB8c8/s1600/download.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">ESCAPE FROM FIVE SHADOWS</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Framed and sentenced to hard labor at the prison at Five Shadows, Corey Bowen isn't about to serve out his time quietly, even though every escape attempt ends in disaster. Until two different women take an interest in freeing him-- one, a woman longing for escape herself, and willing to go to any lengths to achieve it; she offers Bowen a way out if he will kill her spineless alcoholic husband in the process. And two, a lovely young girl who believes in Corey's innocence and may have the legal connections to get him out... if he's patient. But Corey is NOT patient, and when an opportunity to bust out presents itself, he sees no other option but to take it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">The characters in this one are finely-drawn and compelling, although not quite as meticulous as his later work. Despite that, ESCAPE FROM FIVE SHADOWS is a thrilling, tightly-plotted western with lots of action and unexpected twists. The ending is maybe a bit too convenient, with everything lining up nicely for Bowen in the last couple of chapters, but you know, that's just the kind of novel this is. Not on the same level as say, FORTY LASHES LESS ONE or GUNSIGHTS, but still a very enjoyable read.</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C3ofkLxkNk0/VGD5EJAsvqI/AAAAAAAADwo/TQOfckA3ppE/s1600/01N05FEx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C3ofkLxkNk0/VGD5EJAsvqI/AAAAAAAADwo/TQOfckA3ppE/s1600/01N05FEx.jpg" height="320" width="192" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">HOMBRE</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">HOMBRE was a huge leap forward for Elmore Leonard, in my opinion. His first four novels were all solid, well-written Westerns, but with very little that made them stand out from the hundreds of other Westerns at the time. I'm a fan of those early ones for their remarkable compactness and directness of style, but HOMBRE is the first one that feels really different, not just in its themes but in the way Leonard approaches the characters.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">It's unique also in that it's the first (and only) one written in first person. Later, Leonard would vow never to write in first person again, but it works really well in this one. It's narrated by a former stage coach company clerk, riding along on an emergency journey with a disparate group of people-- his former boss Mendez, a fiery tempered young woman who has just been rescued from captivity by Apaches, a shady Indian Affairs agent named Favor and Favor's wife, an even shadier gunman with dubious intentions named Braden, and the "Hombre" of the title: the taciturn John Russell. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Russell is a source of anxiety for the passengers, being a white man who was raised Apache but is now about to give a shot at living in the white man's world. He is barely tolerated by the bigoted Mr. and Mrs. Favor, until the gunman Braden reveals his true intentions; he is part of a gang lying in wait to steal the money Favor had embezzled from his post as an Indian Affairs agent. With their lives on the line, Russell must lead the group to safety across the hostile landscape of Arizona, with the outlaws in close pursuit.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">There's some very good action in HOMBRE, but more than anything else this novel is a character study. Of all the central characters, but most especially of John Russell. He is an enigma to the others, a silent and stoic presence who refuses to submit to the opinions of the others or to placate them with false pretensions. They hate him, they fear him, but they NEED him. And by the end of HOMBRE, they finally learn what kind of man he actually is. And it's something none of them could ever even aspire to.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Mark this as one of my favorites of Elmore Leonard's Westerns. Looking at his bibliography, it seems he took a break from writing fiction for several years after this, some eight years, and when he did return to fiction he concentrated mostly on modern day crime thrillers. But between 1970 and '79, he wrote three more Westerns, all far superior to his earlier work in the genre. That great streak started with HOMBRE.</span>Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-87999792687743861612014-11-06T06:56:00.002-08:002014-11-06T06:56:34.596-08:00Why I Don't Care.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
When it comes to promotion and all the ins-and-outs of publishing, I have a confession to make. I have no idea what I'm doing.<br />
<br />
Every once in a while, I'll make an effort to get myself acclimated to the bigger picture, I'll try to pay attention to the latest news in the world of publishing-- i.e. that Amazon-Hatchett thing that was all over social media a few months ago-- but within minutes I'm monstrously bored. Even worse, I still haven't formed an opinion. I'm supposed to have an opinion, right? Damn me, I can't seem to care enough to get one together.<br />
<br />
But, more relevant to what I want to talk about, my skills at promotion are minimal.<br />
<br />
Okay, that's not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I'm not terribly interested in promotion anymore.<br />
<br />
I think there's a mid-line involved in being a writer who is effective at promotion, a sort of point where the needle starts clicking over to the far end and people notice. Anything below that point, you can be rumbling and making your low-level noise, but unless you top it into the red and start beeping obnoxiously, you're just background ambiance.<br />
<br />
I don't want to start beeping. I don't like it much when other writers do that (hello, Twitter, you fucking obnoxious whore!). I'd really rather just write, okay?<br />
<br />
Here's what I've noticed: when I have a new work I want to make people aware of, I DO announce it, here at the blog and on social media, mostly Facebook, and initial sales will be fairly decent, usually. Not staggering or anything, but enough to make me happy. But if I decide to promote something that's been around for a while and has begun to flat-line a little, the result is usually... well, not much.<br />
<br />
And yet... on a regular basis, older works will suddenly and inexplicably spike a little, without any reason that I'm aware of. It has nothing to do with me. I put it down to readers maybe spreading the word a bit, or someone just sorta stumbling across me on Amazon, or someone who maybe read one thing of mine and liked it enough to invest in some of my other stuff.<br />
<br />
I'm just guessing. I don't really know. And that's my point. When you work exclusively in the small presses, there often doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to sales patterns. They go up, they go down, they go up again.<br />
<br />
I suspect, too, that this ties in a bit to my newly-discovered lack of interest in bad reviews. We've all seen the news lately about a rash of "writers behaving badly", obsessing over bloggers and reviewers who have rightly or wrongly trashed their work, engaging in on-line flame wars, and one even going so far as to stalk his (her?) reviewer. I can't even get my head around that. When my very first bad reviews started coming in (for THE BASTARD HAND; there was a free promotion at one point that put the novel into the hands of thousands of people, some of whom had no business reading a book like that), I was bummed. But I guess you could say I had an epiphany about it not long ago, and that epiphany was that not everyone is going to like what I do, and what's more, it would SUCK if everyone loved me. That would mean I'm doing something really wrong and I'm not pushing myself into unexplored territory the way I want to.<br />
<br />
So when I say I don't care about bad reviews or readers who hate what I do, I hope you understand that I'm completely serious. I honestly don't give a fuck.<br />
<br />
I DO like your good reviews, though. You have good taste.<br />
<br />
I got some great advice a long time ago from a writer I admire greatly, Vincent Zandri. Bear in mind, Vin and I have completely different situations-- he has some pretty strong promotional resources behind him, having a nice deal with Amazon-- but what he told me is still true: Keep putting quality work out there. Develop a catalog of solid books and stories, be dependably good. An audience will find you, eventually.<br />
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James Reasoner told me the same thing (I'm a name-dropping sonofabitch today, aren't I?) and he should know. James has written over 300 books. He writes for a living. And you almost NEVER see him promoting his work on social media. He's too busy doing the work.<br />
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It took me a little while to really understand what Vin and James were telling me. But I get it now. They are absolutely right.<br />
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You're not going to see me going all out on some promotional blitz, unless I have something brand new I want to bring to your attention, or some freebie or something like that. Anything beyond an initial heads-up, I've found, is an enormous waste of time. And non-stop self-promotion, the kind you find on Twitter, is just obnoxious as hell. I'm not saying it doesn't work, maybe it does, I don't know, but it seems like too big a price to pay.<br />
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I think I'll just keep writing.<br />
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P.S.- That cat picture up there? It seemed relevant at the time. It isn't, really. But people like funny pictures of cats. Sorry 'bout that.Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-37429262382434645132014-10-24T14:42:00.001-07:002015-11-11T18:03:34.679-08:00The Long, Crazy Life of John Constantine, Hellblazer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tonight, network television is premiering a new show called Constantine. It's based on the long-running (but now defunct) comic series from DC/Vertigo called Hellblazer; or, more accurately, I guess, it's based on the safer version that can be found in the newer DC re-boot of the character, simply called Constantine.<br />
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I won't be watching. No, I'm not boycotting it or anything. I'm at work tonight. But honestly, even if I was home, I'm not sure how excited I would be about it. The DC re-boot is pretty much a toothless version of a character I love dearly.<br />
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Hellblazer was the only comic I read consistently for well over twenty years, and that version of John Constantine is as close to a fully fleshed out and complex personality as you're ever likely to see in the pages of a comic book. He grew and changed over the course of the series in a very realistic way. He aged in "real time". He was a hero and a bastard and a con-man and a savior at various points; like real people, he was never just ONE thing.<br />
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That's why so many different writers were able to do such great work with him over the years. Making Constantine "consistent" was silly, because real people are not consistent.<br />
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If you don't know, here's the deal about John Constantine: he appeared initially in the much-lauded Alan Moore run of Swamp Thing, back in 1985, as a mysterious supporting character, guiding Swamp Thing (or manipulating him, if you prefer) on a series of grisly adventures that tested the swamp elemental's powers as he was rediscovering himself. Constantine was a stylish but somewhat seedy Brit, conceived as a "working class magician", a bit snarky, a bit cynical, always with a hidden agenda and a last-minute plan. He always seemed to know something that everyone else didn't, that was his thing. He was a master manipulator who was willing to do some very bad things for the greater good.<br />
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The character was a huge hit with readers, and in 1988, after a few more important appearances in Swamp Thing, he was spun off into his own series-- at first meant to be called Hellraiser, but Clive Barker had just beaten them to the punch with that title, so the last minute change up was called Hellblazer.<br />
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Written by Jamie Delano and drawn mostly by John Ridgeway, Hellblazer took the bare bones concepts of Alan Moore and expanded on them beautifully. Even though Moore created the character, Delano was really the one who made Constantine great. Over the course of his initial 40-issue run, he filled in Constantine's background, he gave him the internal struggles, he pulled back the curtain to show what was really going on in Constantine's brain. He made him human, and he set up the themes that would be consistent throughout the history of the title-- namely, the toll Constantine would always pay for his work. The working-class mage/con-man was often forced to make horrible sacrifices for the greater good, losing friends along the way, and pieces of his own soul (literally and figuratively). Delano also used Hellblazer to comment on the social and political climate of Britain in those dark days of Margaret Thatcher, and gave us bits like Constantine's stay in a mental asylum after inadvertently causing a young girl to die and be sucked into Hell, being partly responsible for the death of his father at the hands of a serial killer called The Family Man, and strangling his "good" twin brother in the womb. All of these things would be referenced many times over the years. Delano's run remains the hallmark, in my opinion.<br />
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With issue 41, Garth Ennis took over the title, and began what is still the most popular run ever of Hellblazer. With artist William Simpson at first, and then Steve Dillon, Ennis' approach to Constantine was a little less refined and less political, instead choosing to go a more personal route. He showed us a Constantine with friends, a Constantine in love, and ultimately a Constantine who would once again lose it all in the end. It was an angry run of comics that confronted racism, corporate greed, homelessness, and religion, but it also had great moments of black humor. Ennis gave us probably the most famous Hellblazer story, in which Constantine gets lung cancer and manages to save himself by utilizing a ballsy con against the Devil himself (the First of the Fallen) and two other lords of Hell.<br />
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Ennis wrapped up his run with issue 83, and, after a one shot by returning writer Delano and a three-parter by Eddie Campbell, the reins were picked up by Paul Jenkins, with the great Sean Phillips on most of the art.<br />
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Jenkins run is highly under-rated. He opted to go in a different direction than the one pointed out by Ennis, instead focusing his run on British folklore and mythology. It was less bombastic than Ennis, less colorful and profane, and showed a Constantine trying once again to have some kind of normal life with his eccentric circle of friends. But the one constant of his life, the inevitable crash and burn, happens at the end and once again he's left alone and devastated.<br />
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Garth Ennis came back briefly after the Jenkins run, for a gruesome 6-part dark comedy called Son of Man, about the consequences Constantine has to deal with after bringing back to life the dead son of a London gangster, using a demon with a... well, a devastatingly huge dong.<br />
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The great Warren Ellis was next, with a terrific but way too short run that focused on Constantine the bastard-- a six part arc first, in which John finds out a former lover has been murdered by an upstart young mage, and the brutal retribution John brings down on him. This was followed by a handful of excellent one shot stories with a variety of artists. But Ellis' run was cut short by a disagreement with DC/Vertigo over a story involving school shootings, this in the wake of the Columbine tragedy.<br />
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Ellis left, and after a two part fill-in by writer Darko Macan, Brian Azzarello took over. Azzarello was the first and only American to write Hellblazer, and so his run takes place entirely in the States. It opens with Constantine in an American prison, then backtracks over the course of the run to explain the circumstances of his incarceration. Azzarello used the title to take Constantine into some of the darkest places in America, backwoods redneck territory as well as the hidden pleasure palaces of the filthy, morally bankrupt rich. It's a controversial run, but elevated sales on Hellblazer higher than they'd been since the Ennis days. Constantine comes off as particularly wicked in these issues, but mostly because we're seeing him through other people's eyes, which works. It served as a sort of reminder of Constantine when we first met him in Swamp Thing, a mysterious and slightly sinister figure.<br />
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Mike Carey followed Azzarello, taking John back to England to confront the consequences of his long absence. This run on Hellblazer is my favorite, one, because Carey is terrific at set-up and pace, and two, because he draws on lore established by previous writers and takes them to new and unexpected places. Some horrible things happen in Carey's run, deaths of characters who had been in the title since the very beginning, and Constantine's friendship with Chas (a constant throughout the series, the long-suffering Chas) reaches a breaking point. John pretty much loses it during Carey's run, suffering beyond anything the previous writers had ever put him through. Carey also made John's niece Gemma an important ongoing character, as the young woman follows in the dark footsteps of her uncle. Also, the second half of Carey's run features art by Leonardo Manco, whom I adore.<br />
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When Carey wrapped up, crime fiction author Denise Mina took over. I have mixed feelings about Mina's run; she was the first woman to write the character, and she really manages to nail John Constantine's personality perfectly. Also, she utilizes Gemma expertly. Sadly, the story itself dragged a bit, and didn't offer Constantine any real noteworthy challenge. Still, though, it should be said, Mina was absolutely terrific at character stuff.<br />
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Andy Diggle was next, with a very short but clever run that saw Constantine trying to get his act together yet again, and finally confronting the Golden Child-- that is, the supposedly "good" twin he murdered in the womb.<br />
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And finally, Peter Milligan, with the final (and longest) run on Hellblazer. While previous writers worked to strike a balance between the dark magical world of John Constantine and a more-or-less "real world", Milligan's run is noteworthy for it's dismissal of any sort of reflection of reality. It's a bright, comic-bookish world in Milligan's Hellblazer, even when the stories themselves get dark (and they do get very dark indeed at points). Constantine actually gets married about midway through Milligan's time on Hellblazer, but during the wedding his niece Gemma is sexually assaulted by "Demon Constantine", a vessel previously locked away in Hell, whom John had at one point during Jenkins' run poured all his own darkest impulses into. Even though it wasn't John that committed the deed, the incident creates a wedge between him and Gemma that ultimately costs John everything at the end. Issue 300 wraps up Hellblazer on a downbeat note, a fate you could argue as being worse than death for someone like Constantine, and a feeling of melancholy that John Constantine's long journey is at last over.<br />
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Reading the very last issue of Hellblazer marked what I knew was the end of my time as a serious reader of comics. I still pick up trade paperbacks from time to time, but it was Hellblazer that kept me showing up at the comic shop on Wednesdays. I have a very strong attachment to Our John, as I've read his ongoing story and watched as he struggled and failed and even occasionally won. I've stayed with him as he's saved the world, lost his soul, betrayed his friends and himself, aged and changed and survived crisis after crisis.<br />
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As goofy as it sounds, John Constantine is almost like an old friend (who I wouldn't trust alone!) I met when I was in my early 20's and knew peripherally ever since. I actually kinda mourned the end of Hellblazer.<br />
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DC, of course, re-booted him as a part of their mainstream DC universe, but this Constantine is clearly not the same guy. He's younger, for one thing. All that life history in Hellblazer doesn't exist for him. He doesn't operate in the "real world"; instead, he hangs out with superheroes and saves the world from alien threats and even turns into goddamn Shazam at one point. Sigh.<br />
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Anyway, the show premiering tonight. Depending on reviews, I may watch when it comes out on DVD or Netflix. Maybe. But it will always just be an actor, an imitation, of one of the most important fictional characters in my life, John Constantine. Cheers.<br />
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<br />Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-41451656141455193842014-10-23T14:10:00.000-07:002014-10-23T14:10:02.428-07:00How to Chop off someone's head with a sword<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Christian Klaver has been a close friend of mine for many years, and he's one of those guys it's impossible not to like. He's friendly and gregarious and always has something interesting to say. He's also a terrific writer (you can find some of his work <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christian-Klaver/e/B0036ENA22/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1414098477&sr=1-2-ent" target="_blank">here</a>) and a formidable martial artist. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I sent him a message asking about katanas and samurai swords: "Hey, you know how in Walking Dead, Michonne is always chopping zombie's heads off with one swipe of her katana? Is that actually possible in real life? It seems like cutting someone's head clean off would be harder than that. I need answers!!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">His answer was so fantastic I had to share it here on the blog. Hope you get as much out of it as I did. Thanks, Christian!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>"I can help. Mostly, yes. I totally think it would work, but not quite they portray it. And not indefinitely. A sword would certainly do damage to a person’s neck, though a decap would be unlikely. The proper stroke for a katana includes a pulling motion so the sword slides to cut. Think about the slide you have to do cutting food. (They always show it like she’s hitting with a bat, just straight through, which wouldn’t work on a person. On a super sharp sword, maybe once, maybe, before you dulled the crap out of your sword. Also probably not right through the skull like they often show. It would, sooner rather than later, just chunk into the flesh and bone like an axe into wood, and stick. (Especially if you don’t slide!) You almost never see that in the show. That goes double when you see her whipping it around with one hand. It’s meant to be used with two, hands spaced as far apart as you can for leverage. Now if zombies are decayed and gooier than people, that might allow a lot more latitude.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>I was part way through this post and did a little research. You can find a ton of sites with people putting swords through bottles of water and occasionally a hunk of beef. It would do lethal damage to a person no problem. So certainly a zombie. Hell, even a non-sharp sword would do the trick if you had all the time in the world and weren’t worried about getting stuck. It’s when you want to do it repeatedly, with no hang-ups, then it gets unbelievable. Also, most of the time, these are made out of not great metal. So after a few dozen zombies, I’d think you'd break it sooner or later. (We just found out the Michonne found hers, which makes this even more likely.)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>There’s a site with a real Samurai Master declaring “there are only a handful of people on the planet who could effectively use a katana in battle. For the rest of us it would be nothing more than a recipe for certain death.” I get where he’s coming from, but I think he’s overstating the case. He’s thinking of combat against an armed opponent that knows what he’s doing, where you’d be hitting metal (sword on sword, armor, etc). Zombie fighting is kind of the cake walk of combat, it’s only in attrition that they’re dangerous, right? Any length of metal will do the trick, Kouno, I’m pretty sure a katana could dispatch a zombie ok, buddy.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i> If I had to pick for me, tomorrow, for under $100, my top choice would be the Kukri. (I like this one with the lanyard so you can lose it as easily.) Small enough you could get a good metal one. Or a good old machete.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>If I had to pick out of my basement, I would certainly use my katana (with backup machete). And, you know, a fucking rifle and pistol. Sure, the katana won’t last forever, but it’ll last until I find something better.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Honorable mention to this tactical tomahawk, which wouldn’t ever break, I think, unlike the less-than stellar metal of the $30 Chinese Broadsword above</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>Practical, but not anywhere near as sexy as a sword.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>That being said, I’ve never actually had a problem with Michonne’s swordwork in walking dead while I’m watching her. It’s a little bit of a stretch because she does it one-handed and she’s kind of skinny, but so cool that I’m willing to go with it."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My friends are awesome, right?</span></div>
Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-87408313005758973522014-10-12T08:43:00.000-07:002014-10-12T08:43:43.390-07:00You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry. Or Maybe You Would.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Once in a while, I'll find myself focusing on my most obvious flaws and think I should maybe work toward fixing them. You ever do that? I mean, consciously work toward making yourself a better person? Most of the time, I imagine, we do it instinctively, but on some occasions it becomes a more conscious thing.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Anger, that's my big one. I have a lot of rage boiling in my gut-- rage over horrible tragedies in the world, rage over stupid people making stupid decisions for the rest of us, rage over circumstances I have no control over. It simmers inside me for long periods of time, and then, without warning, erupts over and out of me and I find myself ranting and raging at a world that's not really listening. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Folks who know me would probably tell you that I'm a pretty calm, easy-going guy and that it takes an awful lot to stress me out or get me worked up. That's because I tend to internalize my strongest emotions. Truth is, I'm a bit like Bruce Banner in The Avengers movie-- I'm ALWAYS angry. But the only time I really cut loose, emotionally, is on the page. More about that in a minute.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">It doesn't help anything when I rage off the page and in the real world. In fact, the only discernible effect I've noticed is that it takes everything out of me and makes me feel awful. My anger seems to effect nothing and nobody except me-- and in a very negative way.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">So. Time to reign that rage in and learn to calm the fuck down, right? Maybe.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">One thing I've found that really helps when you're trying to be a better human being: thoroughly examine the ideals you love, pick them apart, throw away the ones that prove meaningless and focus hard on the few that remain. Write them down. Know them, live them.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times, FreeSerif, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">I care about reason, compassion, kindness, and truth. Those are the four greatest things a human can aspire to, in my opinion. Not finding "happiness" (a selfish goal if ever there was one), but easing the universal burden somewhat. </span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">I have my own ideas about what each of those four things mean, but I won't bore you with that. You probably have your own definitions, and I'm sure they're fine the way they are.</span><br />
<br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Now, having said that--- none of this applies to my work as a writer. Reason flies right out the goddamn window. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Compassion is nowhere to be seen. Kindness? Pffh. And truth, well... truth rarely exists.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">You know what there's a lot of, though? Anger. Wild, raging, uncontrollable anger. I'd like to say it's therapeutic, but that might be bullshit. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Regardless, I'm not sure if I could even write at all without the anger. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-36720061565216379312014-10-07T13:35:00.000-07:002014-10-07T13:35:21.775-07:00Why You Shouldn't Camp on LSD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white;">One Easter weekend, way back in 19-blahty-blah, me and my friend Jorgensen decided to drive up north and camp out in the woods. We brought a tent and some cans of Sterno and various food items, but more importantly we packed a gallon of vodka, three baggies of weed, and a few hits of LSD, just to make it memorable. Smoking pot on the way was a given, but about halfway there we decided to make it interesting and so broke out the acid early. We each took a tab and kept going.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I won’t bore you with the details of what being on acid is like. You’ve no doubt heard enough stories about that. But we’re driving along the freeway, getting fairly close to our destination in the wilds of northern Michigan, when it starts to snow. Hard. And it keeps snowing and snowing and snowing. By the time we arrived at the woods we’d set our minds to, it was a full-blown blizzard. On Easter weekend.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Well, naturally, there was no one else around. So after it stopped snowing Jorgensen set up the tent, I went walking by myself, trudging through snow up to my thighs. Whacked out of my skull on acid and weed, with a tumbler full of vodka and Seven-Up. I stumbled across a deer in a clearing, who looked at me for a full minute, judging me I felt certain, before leaping into the air and disappearing.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I kept walking, pretty much lost but not that worried about it, when I saw a face peeking at me from some brush. It was a man, with deer antlers on his head. I said, “Uh… hey,” and he vanished.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Saw him again a few minutes later, and that was when I realized that wasn’t quite normal.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I made my way back to the tent, where Jorgensen was smoking another joint and trying to get some soup heated up on one of the Sterno cans. I told him about the guy with antlers, and he of course dismissed it as a case of me being baked out of my skull. I shrugged, because he was probably right.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">So we’re sitting there in front of our tent in the snow, trying to get the goddamn Sterno can to work, when a pick-up truck pulls up right in front of us and the guy driving honks his horn. We look up at him rather stupidly, and he rolls down his window, leans out and yells, “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Jorgensen looks at me, and I say to the guy, “Uh… we’re camping, man.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The driver says, “Camping?? What the… you dumb asses have pitched your tent right in the middle of the road!”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">We look around us and notice that, yeah, it does seem to be a long, narrow clearing after all. Very quickly, we take down the tent, too stoned to be embarrassed, and hustle off to the side. The guy yells one last time, “Dumb asses!” before driving off.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">We pitched the tent farther into the woods and I don’t remember anything else about that evening. We went to sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">When we woke, we were soaked to the bone and there was snow everywhere in the tent and we were freezing. We both decided to call the camping trip a wash. We packed up, both of us sneezing and shivering, got in the car, and drove away.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I saw the guy with antlers one more time as we left, peering at us intently as we drove off. I thought about mentioning it to Jorgensen, but decided it didn’t matter. I rolled up a joint and lit it and settled back for the long drive home. </span></div>
Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-5600834293194919022014-10-01T08:28:00.002-07:002014-10-01T09:29:18.802-07:00The Walking Dead and their weird Death Fetish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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THE WALKING DEAD is a show that really benefits from binge viewing, a quick two or three day blast dedicated to just barreling through to the end. That's the way I've watched each season, and I'm pretty sure I would never have maintained interest in it if I'd watched an episode a week. Luckily for me, I don't have/want/need cable, so it's an entirely Netflix streaming experience for me.<br />
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I'm one of those infuriating WALKING DEAD viewers who bitches and moans about the show and yet anxiously awaits each new season. Sorry. I know I'm wrong to do that.<br />
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But the thing is, the show is so... frustrating sometimes. Uneven. The first season was amazing and fresh, but the beginning of the second just dragged on and on, even watching it over a couple of days. And the second half of the third season, same deal. The show has always seemed to have trouble finding its pace, figuring out where it wanted to go and how it wanted to get there. It's difficult to balance great character moments with scary action, and even the most die-hard WD fan will probably admit the show hasn't always been successful in that regard.<br />
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When the show is good, though, it is very good indeed. There are some characters who I've grown very emotionally invested in, whether I like it or not. And the moments of action usually pay off very well, even if they come sporadically.<br />
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I'm happy to say, though, that I was really pleased with season four. They seem to have finally found that balance between character and action they've been striving for. It was the most enjoyable season since the first.<br />
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I'm not going to worry about spoilers here, since I assume that most WD fans are already caught up. So if you're concerned about reveals, maybe you should stop reading. I don't know, it's up to you.<br />
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Season four succeeded for many noteworthy reasons-- one, as I said, the pacing was as close to perfect as they've been so far. In 16 episodes, a LOT happened. The survivors lost their sanctuary in the prison when the Governor returned. We got an excellent pay-off to wrap up the Gov's story (and those three flashback episodes dealing with his adventures post-Woodbury were terrific). As walkers descended on the prison, the survivors were forced to flee, and the tight-knit group were scattered, none knowing the fate of the others.<br />
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It was an inspired idea, separating the group. It gave the writers amble opportunity to focus on each of them and tell stories that highlighted each of their strengths and flaws. It also gave us a chance to get to know some of the newer characters.<br />
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One aspect that really works this season is the new diversity of our heroes-- for the first time, WD has several significant black characters: not just Michonne, but Tyreese, Sasha, and new addition Bob. Each of them has their own deal and their own focus, which is worth mentioning because, previously, we had only T-Dog... remember him? Maybe not, because in the first two and a half seasons T-Dog just sort of hung around and never did anything worth mentioning. He never got a back-story, was never the focus of anything. When he died, it didn't even feel like an important moment, did it?<br />
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Also: the female characters REALLY shined in season four. I mean, they were all terrific and the writers did an excellent job with them. Carole really came into her own as a strong but flawed human being, making insanely difficult decisions and living with the consequences. Maggie kicked ass. Michonne, of course, got fleshed out a bit more and opened up. Finally, Beth got serious screen-time and proved that she deserves to be listed in the opening credits. And new addition Tara, the sole survivor of the Governor's group, had value right away (also worth noting, Tara is, as far as I can remember, WD's first gay character, another stride forward in diversity). Remember when the show had, basically, two female leads and both of them were irritating as hell and seriously under-developed? Lori and Andrea never worked for me, because they both seemed like an immature boy's idea of what women would act like during the zombie plague.<br />
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Speaking of Lori and Andrea, that brings me to what I've always considered the biggest problem with WD, and how I think they've addressed it somewhat in season four.<br />
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Death.<br />
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Death has long been a gimmick on WALKING DEAD. A plot point designed to shock you, even if it isn't satisfying from a story point of view. It's a weird kind of death fetish, substituting actual drama for shock. Yes, I understand that, if a zombie plague really happened, people we love would die. I get that. But you know... this is a story. And in a story, you need to rely on something more than "Who's going to die this season??" The writers (influenced, I'm sure, by Robert Kirkman) have focused on that, to the detriment of good story-telling. For the writers, with a gleeful glimmer in their eyes, to tease viewers with POTENTIAL CHARACTER DEATHS!! all the time is just sloppy and lazy and a cheap way to keep people watching. In season three, so many main characters died that my reaction when all was said and done was a combination of depression and antipathy. I didn't care anymore, and I wound up distancing myself emotionally. Too often, a character death signified nothing except... well, another dead character.<br />
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Season four proves my point, I think. It's the best season since the first, and guess what? Only ONE major character dies. Just one (note that by "major character", I mean someone who has been on the show for two or more seasons). And his death was a shocker. It was emotionally devastating and signified a HUGE moment on the show and what happens next. It didn't feel gratuitous. It felt like: nothing will ever be the same now. It pushed the story forward.<br />
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That's how you do a character death. You give it meaning. You don't make it yet another useless death that does nothing to advance the story.<br />
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One death, and the best season yet.<br />
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Finally, and in relation to that, I just want to say that if they kill off Glenn (which there have been some hints about upcoming in season five) I'll be done with the show. This isn't just a pissy comment-- I consider Glenn essential to the show's success. Rick is, of course, the head of the show, and by extension Carl; Darryl is a fan favorite, so killing him off would be idiotic, unless they wanted to lose HALF their viewers; but Glenn is the HEART of that show and always has been. He's the glue that holds everything together on an emotional level.<br />
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I just hope the show runners realize that.<br />
<br />Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-24028430707380343442014-09-30T09:27:00.001-07:002014-09-30T12:07:49.840-07:00A Biography in Books<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">I didn’t read a lot when I was a little kid.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Scratch that—I didn’t read a lot of books. I read comics, that was what I did. I’ve mentioned in other posts how much comic books shaped my life, even as an adult, but I don’t think I’ve mentioned that comics actually taught me how to read. My mom took full advantage of my bizarre obsession with dudes in tights and capes running around beating up bad guys by making sure I never ran out of comics to read (they were super-cheap in those days). And so, through them, I learned about story structure, conflict, character development (as miniscule as it was) and all those other things that go toward making a story work. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">At about ten years old, I began casting around for other heroic tales to put myself into, and that’s when actual books started playing a role. We started studying Greek mythology in school, and I fell in love, devouring Bulfinch and Edith Hamilton. I discovered the exciting and bloody tales of King Arthur via Mallory (no, I didn’t read Le Mort D’Arthur at ten years old, but rather an illustrated children’s version). Basically, these were like super-hero stories, except that the teacher didn’t seem to judge them as harshly. Perfect.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">But my first actual adult reading occurred pretty much by accident: stumbling across this short story collection hidden away in the basement, something my mom had apparently forgotten. It was called HAUNTINGS. It had this gorgeously creepy cover by Edward Gorey, and stories by Lovecraft, Robert Bloch, John Collier, and a bunch of others as well. The cover sparked my morbid little imagination, and I sat there in that dark basement and read three or four in a row and everything—I mean, everything—changed for me. It would never be the same again.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Heroics fell by the wayside for a while then, to be replaced by an overwhelming need to have the shit scared out of me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Through my teens and even well into my twenties I was a horror nut, reading every horror novel I could find and becoming quite the little expert on the genre. I especially fell in love with Richard Matheson, Ray Bradbury, and Manly Wade Wellman's John the Balladeer stories. This all coincided with the so-called “horror boom” of the eighties, so it worked out pretty well. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Not to say that I never read anything but scary shit. There were books we read in school that I actually quite liked. The usual stuff, you know: Lord of the Flies (which is still one of my favorites), Huckleberry Finn, Call of the Wild. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">I also got hold of some old Doc Savage re-prints then, great heroic stuff if not exactly brilliantly written. The Shadow followed (to a lesser extent), and Robert E. Howard’s stories about Conan and Solomon Kane.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">At fifteen or so, on a whim, I read a couple Mack Bolan Executioner books, by Don Pendleton, and absolutely lost my shit. Ultra-violent, non-stop action. The perfect thing for removing an awkward young man from a world he had no control over and giving him some "realistic" heroic fantasy to cling to. At that time in my life, I needed the well-crafted escapism that the Executioner books provided, and within two months I’d read every single book in the series up ‘til then (which was somewhere around fifty, I think).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /></span>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wEHKvGW2jvA/TgXiMaIhQ9I/AAAAAAAAArU/2p7ZgFGFeY4/s1600/The%2BExecutioner%2BWar%2BAgainst%2Bthe%2BMafia.3.jpg" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: black;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wEHKvGW2jvA/TgXiMaIhQ9I/AAAAAAAAArU/2p7ZgFGFeY4/s320/The%2BExecutioner%2BWar%2BAgainst%2Bthe%2BMafia.3.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622148412643296210" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(229, 229, 229); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; cursor: pointer; height: 320px; padding: 5px; position: relative; width: 194px;" /></span></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Anyway… the finest (and occasionally trashiest) of horror, along with the bloody campaigns of Mack Bolan, sustained me throughout my teenage years. There was other stuff, granted, but that was what made up the bulk of my reading then.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that my reading habits took a monumental turn and opened right up. Books and writers that I still read now, and that had an enormous influence on my own writing. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">I read Hammett, then, and Raymond Chandler and James M. Cain.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">But it really started with Pop. 1280, by Jim Thompson.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">The Black Lizard re-prints of classic paperback original stuff from the 50's were just coming out then, and I can't really over-state what an impact they had on me. I've talked elsewhere about how Pop. 1280 changed things for me, and on the heels of that one I discovered Charles Willeford, Peter Rabe, Dan J. Marlowe, Day Keene, etc. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">I started seeking out similar writers, stumbled across John D. MacDonald, Chester Himes, Patricia Highsmith. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">If I had to boil it down, the "noir" writers had the biggest impact of all. I still loved other genres (and still do), but those paperback original writers who slaved away in relative obscurity made a permanent mark on me like no one else.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">In my early 30's I started developing a taste for Hemingway, John Steinbeck, and William Faulkner, and discovered that, tonally, they read very much like the noir writers.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">For a while, I flirted with a lot of modern speculative fiction, and was particularly blown away by James Morrow, Tim Powers, and George Saunders (who, honestly, is some kind of genius).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">All of this varied reading wound up informing the story and structure of my first novel, THE BASTARD HAND, which, for good or ill, defies categorization. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Lately, I've been reading a lot of Westerns. One more genre thrown in the mix, right?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">The thrill of discovering new writers and new kinds of stories never gets old. With any luck, it will never stop happening. </span>Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-34859494908254289482014-09-27T08:22:00.001-07:002014-09-27T08:22:31.162-07:00Hawthorne: Tales of a Weirder West free for Kindle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nRfj2c_lC_g/VCbWH0ORiHI/AAAAAAAADsY/Y0guTNt7E7M/s1600/da9cd32a5d58b010b337225e0971a710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nRfj2c_lC_g/VCbWH0ORiHI/AAAAAAAADsY/Y0guTNt7E7M/s1600/da9cd32a5d58b010b337225e0971a710.jpg" height="222" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hawthorne-Tales-Weirder-Heath-Lowrance-ebook/dp/B00FZ0Z9GK/ref=as_sl_pc_ss_til?tag=httpliviajwac-20&linkCode=w01&linkId=MMARE4QRRFYHVHSX&creativeASIN=B00FZ0Z9GK" target="_blank">HAWTHORNE: TALES OF A WEIRDER WEST</a> is free on Amazon Kindle for the next five days or so. It contains:<br />
<br />
An introduction by Western legend James Reasoner, and the stories:<br />
<br />
That Damned Coyote Hill<br />
The Long Black Train<br />
The Spider Tribe<br />
Bad Sanctuary<br />
<br />
and<br />
<br />
The Unholy; or, How the Gowan Gang Died<br />
<br />
I won't lie, I'm rather proud of these stories.Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-14725579814188883362014-09-26T14:46:00.000-07:002014-09-26T15:19:01.106-07:00Publication History<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2ZTHPbPZ2bw/VCXfsSNpPdI/AAAAAAAADsI/AC3WhsMOL6M/s1600/Cover_ThatDamnedCoyoteHill_new_533w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2ZTHPbPZ2bw/VCXfsSNpPdI/AAAAAAAADsI/AC3WhsMOL6M/s1600/Cover_ThatDamnedCoyoteHill_new_533w.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
A few days ago, someone asked me when and where my first story was published. I couldn't remember. Isn't that nuts? I honestly could not tell her the year the story came out, and I had to think for a minute before I could even remember where it appeared. Crazy.<br />
<br />
It was important to me, obviously, but damn. There is clearly something wrong with my brain.<br />
<br />
So... I took some time yesterday to piece together my publication history, more for myself than anyone else. I've always been really horrible about keeping track of stuff like this. But there were enough resources on my hard drive and on line for me to work it out.<br />
<br />
If you're interested, here it is. But like I say, this is mostly for me.<br />
<br />
<b>2007</b><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“Battle of the Carson Hotel”, to WELL-TOLD TALES podcast.
Made twenty bucks, and heard the story read by a really terrific voice talent
named Andy Hoff. Later republished in DIG TEN GRAVES. I got lucky right out of the gate, but I wasn't able to sell another piece of fiction for almost two years after this. Well-Told Tales is gone, but you can still find the podcast on line.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2008</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“How the Great Depression Gave America the Blues”, to
HISTORY MAGAZINE. Non-fiction, but I’m including it because it was the first
time I ever got a substantial amount of money for writing. I have found it plagarized by students in several places on line. Oh well. It actually made me
consider giving up fiction writing and going entirely for essays and articles.
That didn’t take.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2009</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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--“Emancipation, with Teeth”, to NECROTIC TISSUE. A very
good horror mag which I was proud to be in. They insisted on changing the
ending. When I reprinted it in the story collection DIG TEN GRAVES, I
re-instated my original ending. No disrespect to the mag, I just liked my way
better.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2010</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“It Will All Be Carried Away”, to CHIZINE (number 44). A
real breakthrough for me, as Chizine is a very well-respected mag. The editor
cited “Carried Away” as one of the best stories he ever read for publication,
and it was nominated for a storySouth award. Go, me. Also republished in DIG
TEN GRAVES.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2011</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--THE BASTARD HAND, my first novel, published by Jon Bassoff
at NEW PULP PRESS. Things sort of broke
open for me that year because of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“Blood Relations”, published in CRIME FACTORY #8. My first
shot at a Western.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--“Nine Pale Men” and “Bones of the Conquerors”, the Grey
Hawthorne adventures, published at THE NAUTILUS ENGINE. Grey Hawthorne was sort of the proto-type
for the later character Hawthorne.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“The World is Made of Candy”, “Greener”, and “Bleed Out”
published at Jason Michel’s PULP METAL
over the course of the year. To this day I love working with Jason and I consider him a friend.
“Bleed Out” was republished in DIG TEN GRAVES. "Greener" was later reprinted in Pulp Metal's anthology LAUGHING AT THE DEATH GRIN, which, sadly, is no longer available.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Two chapters of a zombie serial called “Deadland USA”
published as e-stories by a small press. Unfortunately, these chapters were a
dead end and are no longer available.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--DIG TEN GRAVES, a self-published collection of short
stories. Some had seen publication previously. About half were new to the
collection.This is the only thing I've ever self-pubbed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“Miles to Little Ridge”, a novella published as an e-book
by David Cranmer’s BEAT TO A PULP, and featuring his character Gideon Miles. My
first contracted work and huge fun to write. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--“Now I Wanna Be Your Dog”, a very nasty short story
published in the anthology OFF THE RECORD.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--“No-Account Sonofabitch”, a very short story published at
the great webzine SHOTGUN HONEY.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2012</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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--“A Freeway on Earth”, published in the anthology BURNING
BRIDGES.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--“My Life with the Butcher Girl”, published in the
anthology PULP INK 2.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--“Baby Jebus’ Big Score”, published at PULP METAL.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“That Damned Coyote Hill”, the first Hawthorne weird
western, published as an e-book by BEAT TO A PULP.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“The Long Black Train”, the second Hawthorne, published as
an e-book by BEAT TO A PULP.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--“The Spider Tribe”, the third Hawthorne, published as an
e-book by BEAT TO A PULP. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--FIGHT CARD: BLUFF CITY BRAWLER, a novella, under the name
Jack Tunney. Published on Sept 1. This is part of the ongoing series of Fight
Card novellas published by Paul Bishop and Mel Odom. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--CITY OF HERETICS, my second full-length novel, published
by Ron Earl Phillips and SNUBNOSE PRESS. It came out only days after the FIGHT
CARD novella. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2013</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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--“Bad Sanctuary”, the fourth Hawthorne, published by BEAT
TO A PULP. All four Hawthorne e-books are unavailable now, as they've been collected in one volume.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”, published in the Lee
Marvin-themed anthology LEE, from CRIME FACTORY PUBLICATIONS. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“The Unholy; or, How the Gowan Gang Died”, a very short
Hawthorne story, published at the webzine THE BIG ADIOS.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--“The Dead Hagedorns”, a flash fiction piece featuring
Hawthorne, published in 5 BROKEN WINCHESTERS, from ZELMER PULP.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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--HAWTHORNE: TALES OF A WEIRDER WEST, collecting all the
Hawthorne stories except “The Dead Hagedorns”, published by BEAT TO A PULP.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>2014</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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--“Five Bucks Buys Some Goddamn Vodka”, published in the
crime fiction magazine/anthology NEEDLE, editor Steve Weddle.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--“Scarred Angel”, published in the anthology HOODS, HOT
RODS & HELLCATS, from Chad Eagleton and CATHODE ANGEL PRESS.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--THE AXEMAN OF STORYVILLE, a novella about an older Gideon
Miles in 1921 New Orleans, published by BEAT TO A PULP.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> --To be released: A Western novel that I can't say anything about yet.</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>--To be completed: A screenplay that I also can't say much about yet.</o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>Doing this actually made me feel a little better about what I'm doing. Not a bad body of work for a few short years. With any luck, this is just the beginning. But you know how these things go... Thanks for reading.</o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>Heath</o:p></div>
Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7993944993300859915.post-17517308925686878402014-09-25T14:20:00.000-07:002014-09-30T12:09:08.514-07:00How to Be Robert Mitchum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hUIz-GYj7Mw/VCSHCMXGppI/AAAAAAAADr4/8F5DjwbyNyc/s1600/mitchum-cig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hUIz-GYj7Mw/VCSHCMXGppI/AAAAAAAADr4/8F5DjwbyNyc/s1600/mitchum-cig.jpg" height="320" width="254" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Of all the cool sonsofbitches ever to grace the flickering black and white landscape of a movie screen, none ever tilted the cool meter the way Robert Mitchum did. This is a fact. We watch a Mitchum movie and marvel at the nonchalance, the wry, cynical poise, the sheer wicked-coolness of his persona. <i>His Kind of Woman, Out of the Past, Crossfire</i>… even when he played a baddie, like in <i>Cape Fear</i> or <i>Night of the Hunter</i>, he radiated the kind of laid-back charm that squares like you and me can only dream of.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">But don’t feel bad. With a little practice, you too can Be Like Mitch—or at least come passingly close.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Here are three quick examples of Mitch-ness, and how you can emulate them:</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">In the early ‘50’s, Mitch was arrested for possession of marijuana. In those squeaky clean public image-obsessed days in Hollywood, a drug bust would’ve spelled the end of an acting career… but not so for our Mitch. There’s a great photo of him doing his time in prison, wearing the grays and pushing a mop around, that laconic smile still firmly in place. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">And of course America couldn’t stay mad at him after that photo. He apologized to the public for his “immoral behavior” but if the photo was any indication he didn’t feel particularly torn up about it. And to judge by the fact that his career didn’t lose even half a step afterwards America didn’t mind either.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">So, Be Like Mitch lesson one: if you make a bad move and everyone finds out about it, so freaking what? Smile and shrug and get on with things.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Catch-phrases. Hollywood loves ‘em. Ah-nold had “I’ll be back”, Eastwood had “Make my day”. But the phrase most associated with Mitch, uttered with casual aplomb in His Kind of Woman, was much cooler: “Baby, I don’t care.”</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">Be Like Mitch lesson two, then: Don’t be overly-concerned with what the hell anyone else thinks. Let them all pose and poster and spout off in their self-involved ego trips. None of it has to touch you.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">In his later years, Mitch did a movie with a young actor who told the story of how, on set one day, he witnessed Mitch going through his script and marking ninety percent of the pages with the initials N.A.R. The young actor asked him what N.A.R. meant. Mitch grinned and said, “It means No Acting Required, kid.”</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">And that’s Be Like Mitch lesson three: don’t waste energy or effort when you don’t need to. Banging your head against the wall and putting more into a project than it requires is for suckers. Mitch-types save their energy for things that are worthy of it.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 26px; line-height: 36.9599990844727px;">So that’s it. Follow those three simple rules, keep that laconic half-smile on your face, and don’t let the posers and squares touch that inner, cool core of yours. Mitch never did, right? And the world would be much better if we would all just Be Like Mitch!</span></span>Heath Lowrancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07009721666729276126noreply@blogger.com1