***BEFORE I BEGIN***
The last journal was about how I went to the Pain in the Grass festival in Auburn, Washington’s White River Amphitheater. In case you were thinking of asking, it was a badass concert from top to bottom. Three Days Grace was fucking awesome. Lamb of God was REALLY fucking awesome. I’m glad to be introduced to Bullet For My Valentine. But Slipknot? They were badass on a whole different level. The masks, the pyrotechnics, the devil’s mirror background, and most importantly, the music itself was a shit ton of fun. Aside from riding the shuttle bus with a bunch of drunken fans who butchered every jingle on the planet, I had a good time last night. I even had the cute clerk at the convenience store, Chelsea, tell me that she was jealous earlier today. That’s a damn good sign. Hehehehehe!
***RECYCLING BUILDINGS***
Apparently, going to a heavy metal show with a bunch of kick-ass bands inspired me to have a strange, yet poignant dream. In this dream, the QFC grocery store in my town was converted to a concert hall and Pantera got back together to play there. The freezers were replaced with seats, the checkout isles were ticket scanners, and the deli was replaced with one big ass stage where Pantera played “This Love”. And then I woke up and had a topic for a Deviant Art journal in mind already: recycling buildings.
When a business becomes defunct, it would seem like such a waste of construction to demolish the building. If you’re not going to use the building for a grocery store or restaurant, why not use it for a library or a toy store? This actually has a lot of merit in today’s world. In the cop dramas The Shield and NCIS: Los Angeles, both agencies use old churches and convert them to a fully-functional headquarters. Old churches, for shit’s sake. In Texas not too long ago, a Wal-Mart was closed and the building was abandoned until someone started using it for one big-ass library, thus turning Wal-Martians into wallflowers. The old headquarters in Wisconsin where Dungeons & Dragons was born was turned into a candy shop and a hotel after Gary Gygax lost the rights to his game.
Using old buildings for bigger and better things isn’t a new idea, but it’s one that should be spread more often. It would take a shit ton of imagination to convert something like a butcher’s shop into a nightclub (which has been done on an episode of Seinfeld). It’d be a lot of work, but it could technically happen. That QFC dream isn’t far off from reality. It technically could be converted to a concert hall and we could bring some heavy metal to Port Orchard, a city not known for such things. And what about the abandoned Taco Bell building on Mile Hill? Is it just going to sit there and do nothing or can it be converted to…a gaming shop! Can you imagine holding D&D sessions and reading graphic novels in a building that used to be Taco Bell? If your creative energies and imaginative juices aren’t flowing like a raging river, I don’ t know what to say.
Maybe this is all stemming from the fact that I see artistic merit in pretty much everything around me, including reusing condemned buildings, house flipping, and home improvement in general. In this case, the artists in question are working with a tainted canvas and making something beautiful out of it. It would be the same thing if I drew my picture of Daron Campos on the page of a Disney coloring book. It would be a tainted canvas, but it could be done….and it would be creepy to think about considering what Daron Campos is capable of.
Do you have any old buildings that could be something better in your neighborhood? Can you make a college out of a Wal-Mart? Can you make a wrestling school out of a Burger King? Can you make a barbershop out of an abandoned warehouse by a dingy dock? If your imagination is big enough and you’re having a constant flow of nerd-gasms, all of those things are possible. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***COMMERCIAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“You will howl like a happy hound dog over these hushpuppies!”
-Popeye’s Spokeswoman-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Actually, no, I won’t. Popeye’s food is so bland and boring that I can picture one of their restaurants being converted to a record store slash punk clothing emporium. And we’ve come full circle yet again!
Monday, August 24, 2015
Author Interview: Andy Peloquin
Tell the audience a little bit about your background.
Who are some of your favorite authors? --I'm very partial to fantasy, with my favorite authors being Brandon Sanderson, Joe Abercrombie, and Scott Lynch. That being said, I fell in love with fiction thanks to Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Rice Burroughs.
What have you written during your career? --As of this moment, I have written A LOT--very little of it published. I wrote a historical fiction/sci-fi/fantasy/metaphysical novel set in Atlantis (which I'm giving away on my website, in case anyone is interested). And I just published Blade of the Destroyer the first in a new dark fantasy series about a bad-ass fantasy assassin.
How long have you been a writer? Off and on, since the age of 15. I started writing seriously about 5 years ago, but that was mainly non-fiction and marketing stuff. I've only been writing fiction professionally since late 2013.
Where does your creative fuel come from? What a fascinating question! Where does anyone's creative fuel come from? The Ether? Some unnamed muse? I've always envied artists and photographers, people who could make something artistic from nothing. I'm a creative person at heart, so I use words as my "paintbrush" to share a bit of myself with the world.
Are you a plotter (someone who plans ahead) or a pantser (someone who improvises)? A bit of both, actually. I won't start writing a book until I have a rough outline of what the story will be about, but I don't worry too much about the details. They come to me as I write the story, and the plot develops well ahead of my writing. By the time I'm half-way done writing, I'll know how the book ends.
What would you describe as the high point of your career? This! Getting my book picked up by a publisher (J. Ellington Ashton Press) and having this book launch is a huge rush. I'm so excited!
What would you describe as the low point of your career? I've been fairly blessed to date. I've never really had a "low point". There have been a lot of bumps and snags along the way, but I can't say that things have ever really "sucked" in my writing career.
Who do you credit with editing your books into tip-top shape? -- A combination of my beta readers, my own OCD, and the editors at JEA. With all those eyes, the book has come out to be a creation of beauty--one I'm absolutely thrilled with.
Do you design your own book covers or do you have someone else to do that for you? --As I said above, I've always envied artists, mainly because I have ZERO artistic skills. Thankfully, I have a sister who is an amazing artist. She came up with 95% of the design for the book cover, and it's all because of her that it's as awesome as she is.
What advice do you have for young aspiring writers? -- Be ready to work hard! Writing is 20 to 25% "fun", and the rest of it is plain hard work. Between re-drafting, polishing the writing, editing, editing again, doing lots more editing, and marketing, there's a lot less pure "creation" than you might realize. But it's all worth it!
What are some of your pet peeves as an author? --I've come to see proper grammar and punctuation as an absolute MUST. I will drop a book if I find too many mistakes. My eyes just shy away from the words, and I focus on the mistakes rather than the story.
How important are reviews to an author’s career, for better or worse? --I think reviews are quite important. First of all, they hold an author accountable. If you put garbage on the internet, it's good that someone calls you out and tells people the truth about your product. Second, I think that it helps us to find out the areas where we need to improve. A bad review for my first book helped me to make this new book a work of art.
Has anybody created fan art for your books? If so, how does that feel?-- I wish! If anyone is interested in creating fan art, let me know! I want to add sketches of the thirteen gods of Voramis into one of the later books.
Have you met any famous authors in your lifetime? --I did! I stood in line for over an hour at this last San Diego Comic Con to meet Brandon Sanderson. It was the one thing I really wanted from the convention.
How important is privacy to a writer’s career? --You know, I don't know that one. I've never really had a big fan base, so I'm not really sure what it's like to NOT have privacy. Ask me in a few years…
Do you use a penname or is Andy Peloquin your real one? --My real name is "Andrew", but I've been called "Andy" since the day I was born. Being called "Andrew" is still weird, so it made sense to go with the name I prefer.
What role does a penname play for an author? --For some authors, it provides them a way to publish something different. For example, J.K. Rowling published/is publishing a series of books under a pen name, and I think she's doing so to give her books (written by a woman) a chance to succeed in a genre dominated by men.
Do you have any final thoughts to give the audience? --Buy my book! No, just kidding. I love to get to know people, so if anyone wants to be my friend, chat, shoot the s**t about writing, or get to know me, add me on any of my social media links! I'm as friendly as my limited free time allows.
Tagline/Elevator Pitch:
A faceless, nameless assassin. A forgotten past. The Hunter of Voramis--a killer devoid of morals, or something else altogether? (Blade of the Destroyer--dark fantasy with a look at the underside of human nature)
Book Blurb:
The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer
The Hunter of Voramis is the perfect assassin: ruthless, unrelenting, immortal. Yet he is haunted by lost memories, bonded to a cursed dagger that feeds him power yet denies him peace of mind. Within him rages an unquenchable need for blood and death.
When he accepts a contract to avenge the stolen innocence of a girl, the Hunter becomes the prey. The death of a seemingly random target sends him hurtling toward destruction, yet could his path also lead to the truth of his buried past?
Book Info:
Title: The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer
Author: Andy Peloquin
Official Launch Date: August 21st, 2015
Publication Date: July 11th, 2015
Paperback Price: $15.99
Digital Price: $3.99
Pages: 298
ISBN: 1515038955
Buy Links:
Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book-ebook/dp/B012EI9M4A/
Amazon Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book/dp/1515038955/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25269614-blade-of-the-destroyer
Book Launch Event:
https://www.facebook.com/events/1625045874438351/
Bio:
Andy Peloquin: Lover of All Things Dark and Mysterious
Andy Peloquin--a third culture kid to the core--has loved to read since before he could remember. Sherlock Holmes, the Phantom of the Opera, and Father Brown are just a few of the books that ensnared his imagination as a child.
When he discovered science fiction and fantasy through the pages of writers like Edgar Rice Burroughs, J.R.R Tolkien, and Orson Scott Card, he was immediately hooked and hasn't looked back since.
Andy's first attempt at writing produced In the Days: A Tale of the Forgotten Continent. He has learned from the mistakes he made and used the experience to produce Blade of the Destroyer, a book of which he is very proud.
Reading—and now writing—is his favorite escape, and it provides him an outlet for his innate creativity. He is an artist; words are his palette.
His website (http://www.andypeloquin.com) is a second home for him, a place where he can post his thoughts and feelings--along with reviews of books he finds laying around the internet.
He can also be found on his social media pages, such as:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndyPeloquin
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andyqpeloquin
www.linkedin.com/in/andypeloquin/
https://plus.google.com/100885994638914122147/about
https://www.amazon.com/author/andypeloquin
https://www.facebook.com/andrew.peloquin.1
10 Things You Need to Know About Me:
I never forget a face, but rarely remember a name.
I'm a head taller than the average person (I'm 6' 6")
Marvel > DC
I was born in Japan, and lived there until the age of 14.
Selena Gomez and Five Finger Death Punch are both in my playlist.
Aliens are real, but it's self-centered of us to believe that they would come to visit Earth.
Watching sports: suck. Playing sports: EPIC!
I earned a purple belt in Karate/Hapkido/Taekwondo.
I dislike most Christmas music, aside from Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
Reviews:
"Creative, gritty, and beautifully dark...fantasy addicts will love it!" -- Peter Story, author of Things Grak Hates -- http://peterjstory.com/
"The fantasy world has a compelling new antihero…the Hunter will terrify and captivate you." - Eve A Floriste, author of Fresh Cut
"From the first words on the page this fantasy holds the reader spellbound even after the book is finished…his character is very well-defined even if his past is a mystery. Root for an assassin? Oh, yes, one must!" -- Carol Conley, for InDTale Magazine
Friday, August 21, 2015
Pain in the Grass 2015
***PAIN IN THE GRASS 2015***
This coming Sunday (August 23rd), I’m headed over to Auburn, Washington’s White River Amphitheater for the Pain in the Grass festival, which is basically a heavy metal concert with an ass ton of bands. I’ve been to a lot of concerts in my lifetime, but never to a festival-style concert. The show is expected to go from 2:00 in the afternoon to about 10 or 11 at night. Since the venue is at a grassy lawn, I’ll probably bring a blanket and rest in between performers. The last time I stood up for an ungodly amount of time was when I saw Cavalera Conspiracy this past May in Seattle. There were four opening bands that night before the main act and my legs were killing me. Laying on the grass during this upcoming event will feel like laying on one of heaven’s clouds. Here are the bands that will be performing:
MAIN STAGE:
Ayron Jones & the Way
Crobot
Motionless in White
Theory of a Deadman
Bullet for My Valentine
Three Days Grace
Lamb of God
Slipknot
ANOTHER CENTURY STAGE:
Varsity Week
Like a Storm
Stitched Up Heart
Awaken the Empire
New Years Day
Good God almighty, that’s a lot of heavy metal and hard rock bands. I’ll only be gone for one day at this concert, but the recovery time will probably keep me from participating in my usual internet festivities. I’ll probably still compete in that week’s WSS contest, but not until later in the week when I’m fully rested. Everything else that I do on the internet such as writing Blood Brawl chapters, editing American Darkness stories, editing Marie Krepps’ Slayers chapters, and anything else artistic I’ve neglected to mention will be put on hold, but for a very short time.
This may not be a week-long vacation, but it has the same feel: limited internet time and lots of snoozing. It’s funny, because my last journal entry was about “hanging around”. This time, I have an actual reason to idle. Come to think of it, I’ve always had a reason to idle, but didn’t realize it until now. Whenever I’m done with a creative task, I need to “cool off” and “recharge my batteries”. Creativity can be taxing on the mind, but not enough to keep me from enjoying the fruits of my labor. Isn’t that why working people have lunch breaks and coffee breaks? We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
ZIVA: I would have loved to see Gibbs shoot that computer.
MCGEE: If I don’t get his email working, you might get a second chance.
-NCIS-
This coming Sunday (August 23rd), I’m headed over to Auburn, Washington’s White River Amphitheater for the Pain in the Grass festival, which is basically a heavy metal concert with an ass ton of bands. I’ve been to a lot of concerts in my lifetime, but never to a festival-style concert. The show is expected to go from 2:00 in the afternoon to about 10 or 11 at night. Since the venue is at a grassy lawn, I’ll probably bring a blanket and rest in between performers. The last time I stood up for an ungodly amount of time was when I saw Cavalera Conspiracy this past May in Seattle. There were four opening bands that night before the main act and my legs were killing me. Laying on the grass during this upcoming event will feel like laying on one of heaven’s clouds. Here are the bands that will be performing:
MAIN STAGE:
Ayron Jones & the Way
Crobot
Motionless in White
Theory of a Deadman
Bullet for My Valentine
Three Days Grace
Lamb of God
Slipknot
ANOTHER CENTURY STAGE:
Varsity Week
Like a Storm
Stitched Up Heart
Awaken the Empire
New Years Day
Good God almighty, that’s a lot of heavy metal and hard rock bands. I’ll only be gone for one day at this concert, but the recovery time will probably keep me from participating in my usual internet festivities. I’ll probably still compete in that week’s WSS contest, but not until later in the week when I’m fully rested. Everything else that I do on the internet such as writing Blood Brawl chapters, editing American Darkness stories, editing Marie Krepps’ Slayers chapters, and anything else artistic I’ve neglected to mention will be put on hold, but for a very short time.
This may not be a week-long vacation, but it has the same feel: limited internet time and lots of snoozing. It’s funny, because my last journal entry was about “hanging around”. This time, I have an actual reason to idle. Come to think of it, I’ve always had a reason to idle, but didn’t realize it until now. Whenever I’m done with a creative task, I need to “cool off” and “recharge my batteries”. Creativity can be taxing on the mind, but not enough to keep me from enjoying the fruits of my labor. Isn’t that why working people have lunch breaks and coffee breaks? We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
ZIVA: I would have loved to see Gibbs shoot that computer.
MCGEE: If I don’t get his email working, you might get a second chance.
-NCIS-
"Divine Intervention" by Edward Davies
BOOK TITLE: Divine Intervention
AUTHOR: Edward Davies
YEAR: 2011
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Supernatural Comedy
GRADE: Mixed
Jimmy Stewart Moon is a lovable loser with a low-paying job, a place to live at his parents’ house, and too much free time on his hands. When eating potato chips and picking his nose isn’t enough to entertain him, Jimmy takes out his binoculars and spies on his sexy neighbor Vanessa, who’s doing exercises in her underwear. Vanessa catches Jimmy in the act and the perverted voyeur falls out of the window and hits the ground hard. Upon waking up, he meets two angels named Pixie and Frank whose only way of getting back into heaven is to help Jimmy secure a romantic relationship with Vanessa, which is a hard sell considering he just got caught spying on her.
In many ways, this self-published effort reminds me of a book by WWE superstar Dolph Ziggler’s brother Ryan Nemeth called “I Can Make Out with Any Girl Here”. The protagonists in both stories are trying to get laid and they do some silly things along the path of their goals. The funniest part of this story in my opinion is when Jimmy dresses up like an 80’s punk to try and impress Vanessa, but instead looks like a homeless drug addict. Not off to a good start, Mr. Moon! It gets sillier from there. With the English backdrop, this book also reminds me of Monty Python, Danger Mouse, and John Oliver’s show rolled up into one chaotic comedy while dropping a bucket full of LSD. This story is quite possibly the weirdest thing I’ve ever read, but I mean that in the most loving way.
Despite the weirdness of it all, the further you get into this book, the more it begins to read like a legitimate plot instead of just a hodgepodge of comedic antics. We have an imperfect protagonist in Jimmy Stewart Moon. We have a low point near the end. We have a believable climax. And most importantly, we have an ending that nobody would have seen coming for miles, yet that too is believable. I will say though that it takes a great deal of patience to get through the first few pages. Upon first glance, I thought it was going to be TOO weird for my tastes, but my patience paid off and I read an entertaining story.
But just like with any mixed review, there are some complaints that need to be addressed. Although they are few and far between, this book does have its fair share of grammatical errors, misspellings, and other mistakes that no beta reader would ever let slide. But I personally will let this slide because the mistakes don’t corrupt the entire story. It was still enjoyable, but having a beta reader sweep through the errors would be a good call on Mr. Davies’ part.
The only other complaint I need to address is the liberal use of pop culture references. Normally when using these references, there should also be a description of what that reference looks like. For example, if someone looks like Jessica Rabbit, I expect that author to describe her as having long red hair, a seductive face, and a red cocktail dress. While some people have an idea of what the celebrity, TV show, or movie is like already, not everybody fits that bill. It would be like talking to a wrestling fan born in the 2000’s and watching him scratch his head at the mention of Mr. Perfect. It doesn’t even have to be a generational barrier; it could just be someone who has never seen the medium before.
I’m giving this story a mixed grade and not a failing one, because the positives heavily outweigh the negatives. It’s a short book and it reads quickly, so if you don’t have the patience to blow through such a story, I don’t know what to tell you. I blew through it and I enjoyed it every step of the way. Not bad for an author who wrote this story at a young age!
AUTHOR: Edward Davies
YEAR: 2011
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Supernatural Comedy
GRADE: Mixed
Jimmy Stewart Moon is a lovable loser with a low-paying job, a place to live at his parents’ house, and too much free time on his hands. When eating potato chips and picking his nose isn’t enough to entertain him, Jimmy takes out his binoculars and spies on his sexy neighbor Vanessa, who’s doing exercises in her underwear. Vanessa catches Jimmy in the act and the perverted voyeur falls out of the window and hits the ground hard. Upon waking up, he meets two angels named Pixie and Frank whose only way of getting back into heaven is to help Jimmy secure a romantic relationship with Vanessa, which is a hard sell considering he just got caught spying on her.
In many ways, this self-published effort reminds me of a book by WWE superstar Dolph Ziggler’s brother Ryan Nemeth called “I Can Make Out with Any Girl Here”. The protagonists in both stories are trying to get laid and they do some silly things along the path of their goals. The funniest part of this story in my opinion is when Jimmy dresses up like an 80’s punk to try and impress Vanessa, but instead looks like a homeless drug addict. Not off to a good start, Mr. Moon! It gets sillier from there. With the English backdrop, this book also reminds me of Monty Python, Danger Mouse, and John Oliver’s show rolled up into one chaotic comedy while dropping a bucket full of LSD. This story is quite possibly the weirdest thing I’ve ever read, but I mean that in the most loving way.
Despite the weirdness of it all, the further you get into this book, the more it begins to read like a legitimate plot instead of just a hodgepodge of comedic antics. We have an imperfect protagonist in Jimmy Stewart Moon. We have a low point near the end. We have a believable climax. And most importantly, we have an ending that nobody would have seen coming for miles, yet that too is believable. I will say though that it takes a great deal of patience to get through the first few pages. Upon first glance, I thought it was going to be TOO weird for my tastes, but my patience paid off and I read an entertaining story.
But just like with any mixed review, there are some complaints that need to be addressed. Although they are few and far between, this book does have its fair share of grammatical errors, misspellings, and other mistakes that no beta reader would ever let slide. But I personally will let this slide because the mistakes don’t corrupt the entire story. It was still enjoyable, but having a beta reader sweep through the errors would be a good call on Mr. Davies’ part.
The only other complaint I need to address is the liberal use of pop culture references. Normally when using these references, there should also be a description of what that reference looks like. For example, if someone looks like Jessica Rabbit, I expect that author to describe her as having long red hair, a seductive face, and a red cocktail dress. While some people have an idea of what the celebrity, TV show, or movie is like already, not everybody fits that bill. It would be like talking to a wrestling fan born in the 2000’s and watching him scratch his head at the mention of Mr. Perfect. It doesn’t even have to be a generational barrier; it could just be someone who has never seen the medium before.
I’m giving this story a mixed grade and not a failing one, because the positives heavily outweigh the negatives. It’s a short book and it reads quickly, so if you don’t have the patience to blow through such a story, I don’t know what to tell you. I blew through it and I enjoyed it every step of the way. Not bad for an author who wrote this story at a young age!
"Blade of the Destroyer" by Andy Peloquin
BOOK TITLE: Blade of the Destroyer
AUTHOR: Andy Peloquin
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Medieval Fantasy
GRADE: Pass
The Hunter is a ruthless contract killer who always finishes his assignments and demands his payment right away. His methods are as mysterious as his actual birth name. He does everything on his own terms. Those who double-cross him will find themselves brutalized in the worst possible way. Rumors of his deadliness have spread far and wide, creating the illusion that he is invincible. But when he finishes an assassination of a high-ranking lord, he finds out that the aristocrat is involved with a criminal empire known as the Bloody Hand. Only through dealing with these merciless thugs will The Hunter’s invincibility be truly tested.
The reason this book gets a passing grade (four stars if you’re on Good Reads) is because of how well-constructed it is. Everything is so intricately researched to where the author himself feels like an authority on contract killings and stealth trickery. Whenever The Hunter needs a disguise, he not only puts on the right clothing, but he also puts plaster on his face to match the physical description of that character. When he needs an entry point into a castle or a fortress, he sneaks to the tippy-top of that building and eases his way inside with no problems. When he fights his opponents, they not only go down, they stay that way either through brutal incapacitation or death itself. The Hunter does everything he possibly can to keep his identity a secret while successfully going in for the kill.
As cold and calculating as he is, The Hunter is not without personal feelings. Every once and a while, he’ll meet with a small child or a lonely beggar that he feels so much sympathy for that he’ll pay them a little extra money and attention when walking by. He even allows beggars outside of his home, mostly to maintain subterfuge, but also because they have nowhere else to go. And whenever The Hunter sees a pretty woman, he’s not without his primal urges to get in bed with her and do the nasty. This goes to show that no matter how much you push your feelings down for the sake of your profession, they will always come back stronger than ever. It’s what makes us human, and though people think of The Hunter as godlike, he is human.
But if there’s one part about this novel that really had my attention, it’s The Hunter’s weapon of choice, the Bloodhunger. It’s a jagged dagger that not only rips flesh and shatters bones, but also drains the spiritual essence out of those it penetrates. When Bloodhunger wants blood, he’ll get it one way or another. Did I say he? That’s because the dagger actually communicates with The Hunter in a schizophrenic fashion whenever it’s time to kill someone. The hungrier the dagger is, the louder the head voices become. Sometimes The Hunter will have witty banter or a philosophical discussion in his own head about oligarchies, romance, and such, and Bloodhunger will completely interrupt his train of thought with violent words. Not only is this a creepy and frightening part of the story, but it’s also quite original. Any form of against the grain creativity will always strike a chord with not just me, but also other readers.
Andy Peloquin may be an independent author, but he’s no rookie. If he is, he doesn’t write like one. His descriptions paint a vivid image in the reader’s mind just like any piece of writing should. Blade of the Destroyer is no exception to that rule. You should also follow his blogs on Good Reads since his words of wisdom will ring true with any aspiring author. I follow him on Good Reads and we’ve actually become good friends over time. This passing grade I’m giving his book isn’t because we’re good friends. It’s because he’s a damn good writer with infinite potential and a creative mind. He can get the job done come hell or high water.
Tagline/Elevator Pitch:
A faceless, nameless assassin. A forgotten past. The Hunter of Voramis--a killer devoid of morals, or something else altogether? (Blade of the Destroyer--dark fantasy with a look at the underside of human nature)
Book Blurb:
The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer
The Hunter of Voramis is the perfect assassin: ruthless, unrelenting, immortal. Yet he is haunted by lost memories, bonded to a cursed dagger that feeds him power yet denies him peace of mind. Within him rages an unquenchable need for blood and death.
When he accepts a contract to avenge the stolen innocence of a girl, the Hunter becomes the prey. The death of a seemingly random target sends him hurtling toward destruction, yet could his path also lead to the truth of his buried past?
Book Info:
Title: The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer
Author: Andy Peloquin
Official Launch Date: August 21st, 2015
Publication Date: July 11th, 2015
Paperback Price: $15.99
Digital Price: $3.99
Pages: 298
ISBN: 1515038955
Buy Links:
Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book-ebook/dp/B012EI9M4A/
Amazon Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book/dp/1515038955/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25269614-blade-of-the-destroyer
Book Launch Event:
https://www.facebook.com/events/1625045874438351/
Bio:
Andy Peloquin: Lover of All Things Dark and Mysterious
Andy Peloquin--a third culture kid to the core--has loved to read since before he could remember. Sherlock Holmes, the Phantom of the Opera, and Father Brown are just a few of the books that ensnared his imagination as a child.
When he discovered science fiction and fantasy through the pages of writers like Edgar Rice Burroughs, J.R.R Tolkien, and Orson Scott Card, he was immediately hooked and hasn't looked back since.
Andy's first attempt at writing produced In the Days: A Tale of the Forgotten Continent. He has learned from the mistakes he made and used the experience to produce Blade of the Destroyer, a book of which he is very proud.
Reading—and now writing—is his favorite escape, and it provides him an outlet for his innate creativity. He is an artist; words are his palette.
His website (http://www.andypeloquin.com) is a second home for him, a place where he can post his thoughts and feelings--along with reviews of books he finds laying around the internet.
He can also be found on his social media pages, such as:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndyPeloquin
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andyqpeloquin
www.linkedin.com/in/andypeloquin/
https://plus.google.com/100885994638914122147/about
https://www.amazon.com/author/andypeloquin
https://www.facebook.com/andrew.peloquin.1
10 Things You Need to Know About Me:
Hot wings, ALWAYS!
I never forget a face, but rarely remember a name.
I'm a head taller than the average person (I'm 6' 6")
Marvel > DC
I was born in Japan, and lived there until the age of 14.
Selena Gomez and Five Finger Death Punch are both in my playlist.
Aliens are real, but it's self-centered of us to believe that they would come to visit Earth.
Watching sports: suck. Playing sports: EPIC!
I earned a purple belt in Karate/Hapkido/Taekwondo.
I dislike most Christmas music, aside from Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
Reviews:
"Creative, gritty, and beautifully dark...fantasy addicts will love it!" -- Peter Story, author of Things Grak Hates -- http://peterjstory.com/
"The fantasy world has a compelling new antihero…the Hunter will terrify and captivate you." - Eve A Floriste, author of Fresh Cut
"From the first words on the page this fantasy holds the reader spellbound even after the book is finished…his character is very well-defined even if his past is a mystery. Root for an assassin? Oh, yes, one must!" -- Carol Conley, for InDTale Magazine
AUTHOR: Andy Peloquin
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Medieval Fantasy
GRADE: Pass
The Hunter is a ruthless contract killer who always finishes his assignments and demands his payment right away. His methods are as mysterious as his actual birth name. He does everything on his own terms. Those who double-cross him will find themselves brutalized in the worst possible way. Rumors of his deadliness have spread far and wide, creating the illusion that he is invincible. But when he finishes an assassination of a high-ranking lord, he finds out that the aristocrat is involved with a criminal empire known as the Bloody Hand. Only through dealing with these merciless thugs will The Hunter’s invincibility be truly tested.
The reason this book gets a passing grade (four stars if you’re on Good Reads) is because of how well-constructed it is. Everything is so intricately researched to where the author himself feels like an authority on contract killings and stealth trickery. Whenever The Hunter needs a disguise, he not only puts on the right clothing, but he also puts plaster on his face to match the physical description of that character. When he needs an entry point into a castle or a fortress, he sneaks to the tippy-top of that building and eases his way inside with no problems. When he fights his opponents, they not only go down, they stay that way either through brutal incapacitation or death itself. The Hunter does everything he possibly can to keep his identity a secret while successfully going in for the kill.
As cold and calculating as he is, The Hunter is not without personal feelings. Every once and a while, he’ll meet with a small child or a lonely beggar that he feels so much sympathy for that he’ll pay them a little extra money and attention when walking by. He even allows beggars outside of his home, mostly to maintain subterfuge, but also because they have nowhere else to go. And whenever The Hunter sees a pretty woman, he’s not without his primal urges to get in bed with her and do the nasty. This goes to show that no matter how much you push your feelings down for the sake of your profession, they will always come back stronger than ever. It’s what makes us human, and though people think of The Hunter as godlike, he is human.
But if there’s one part about this novel that really had my attention, it’s The Hunter’s weapon of choice, the Bloodhunger. It’s a jagged dagger that not only rips flesh and shatters bones, but also drains the spiritual essence out of those it penetrates. When Bloodhunger wants blood, he’ll get it one way or another. Did I say he? That’s because the dagger actually communicates with The Hunter in a schizophrenic fashion whenever it’s time to kill someone. The hungrier the dagger is, the louder the head voices become. Sometimes The Hunter will have witty banter or a philosophical discussion in his own head about oligarchies, romance, and such, and Bloodhunger will completely interrupt his train of thought with violent words. Not only is this a creepy and frightening part of the story, but it’s also quite original. Any form of against the grain creativity will always strike a chord with not just me, but also other readers.
Andy Peloquin may be an independent author, but he’s no rookie. If he is, he doesn’t write like one. His descriptions paint a vivid image in the reader’s mind just like any piece of writing should. Blade of the Destroyer is no exception to that rule. You should also follow his blogs on Good Reads since his words of wisdom will ring true with any aspiring author. I follow him on Good Reads and we’ve actually become good friends over time. This passing grade I’m giving his book isn’t because we’re good friends. It’s because he’s a damn good writer with infinite potential and a creative mind. He can get the job done come hell or high water.
Tagline/Elevator Pitch:
A faceless, nameless assassin. A forgotten past. The Hunter of Voramis--a killer devoid of morals, or something else altogether? (Blade of the Destroyer--dark fantasy with a look at the underside of human nature)
Book Blurb:
The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer
The Hunter of Voramis is the perfect assassin: ruthless, unrelenting, immortal. Yet he is haunted by lost memories, bonded to a cursed dagger that feeds him power yet denies him peace of mind. Within him rages an unquenchable need for blood and death.
When he accepts a contract to avenge the stolen innocence of a girl, the Hunter becomes the prey. The death of a seemingly random target sends him hurtling toward destruction, yet could his path also lead to the truth of his buried past?
Book Info:
Title: The Last Bucelarii (Book 1): Blade of the Destroyer
Author: Andy Peloquin
Official Launch Date: August 21st, 2015
Publication Date: July 11th, 2015
Paperback Price: $15.99
Digital Price: $3.99
Pages: 298
ISBN: 1515038955
Buy Links:
Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book-ebook/dp/B012EI9M4A/
Amazon Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Blade-Destroyer-Last-Bucelarii-Book/dp/1515038955/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25269614-blade-of-the-destroyer
Book Launch Event:
https://www.facebook.com/events/1625045874438351/
Bio:
Andy Peloquin: Lover of All Things Dark and Mysterious
Andy Peloquin--a third culture kid to the core--has loved to read since before he could remember. Sherlock Holmes, the Phantom of the Opera, and Father Brown are just a few of the books that ensnared his imagination as a child.
When he discovered science fiction and fantasy through the pages of writers like Edgar Rice Burroughs, J.R.R Tolkien, and Orson Scott Card, he was immediately hooked and hasn't looked back since.
Andy's first attempt at writing produced In the Days: A Tale of the Forgotten Continent. He has learned from the mistakes he made and used the experience to produce Blade of the Destroyer, a book of which he is very proud.
Reading—and now writing—is his favorite escape, and it provides him an outlet for his innate creativity. He is an artist; words are his palette.
His website (http://www.andypeloquin.com) is a second home for him, a place where he can post his thoughts and feelings--along with reviews of books he finds laying around the internet.
He can also be found on his social media pages, such as:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndyPeloquin
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/andyqpeloquin
www.linkedin.com/in/andypeloquin/
https://plus.google.com/100885994638914122147/about
https://www.amazon.com/author/andypeloquin
https://www.facebook.com/andrew.peloquin.1
10 Things You Need to Know About Me:
I never forget a face, but rarely remember a name.
I'm a head taller than the average person (I'm 6' 6")
Marvel > DC
I was born in Japan, and lived there until the age of 14.
Selena Gomez and Five Finger Death Punch are both in my playlist.
Aliens are real, but it's self-centered of us to believe that they would come to visit Earth.
Watching sports: suck. Playing sports: EPIC!
I earned a purple belt in Karate/Hapkido/Taekwondo.
I dislike most Christmas music, aside from Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
Reviews:
"Creative, gritty, and beautifully dark...fantasy addicts will love it!" -- Peter Story, author of Things Grak Hates -- http://peterjstory.com/
"The fantasy world has a compelling new antihero…the Hunter will terrify and captivate you." - Eve A Floriste, author of Fresh Cut
"From the first words on the page this fantasy holds the reader spellbound even after the book is finished…his character is very well-defined even if his past is a mystery. Root for an assassin? Oh, yes, one must!" -- Carol Conley, for InDTale Magazine
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Stardust
When Mitch O’Connor’s spacecraft touched down on the world of Stardust, he couldn’t believe how small it was. It truly was a retreat for an introverted hermit like Marcus Edge. The door to the pod-like spacecraft opened and Mitch clunked down the stairs in his spiked metal power armor while carrying a gauss rifle that was bigger than his own arms. “Oh, this is too easy. Too damn easy!” he said to himself.
Stardust wasn’t the most complex world in the galaxy. Smallness aside, it appeared to be a jungle land complete with coconut trees, dirt trails, tall grass, plant life, just your everyday nature trail on planet earth. Even for a planet this tiny, Mitch still had a problem finding his target Marcus Edge. It didn’t help matters that the space mercenary was stomping around on the ground in his gigantic metal boots. Then again, his job didn’t require a great deal of stealth, so he didn’t dwell on it much.
“Marcus Edge!” shouted Mitch through an amplified microphone inside his space helmet. “I know your ass is around here somewhere! I’m feeling pretty good today, probably because toasting your little world is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done! So here’s what I’m going to do, Marcus: I’m going to give you the chance to get your hermit ass off this planet so that when I burn down the plant life and kill all the animals, you won’t have to be a part of it. My boss at World Corp wants to turn your little home into a vacation getaway. It don’t look like much of a vacation right now, buddy boy. It looks more like…”
Before he was allowed to finish his oratory, Mitch O’Connor’s legs were snatched up from underneath him and he hung upside down on a vine. He was so far off the ground that when he dropped his rifle, he couldn’t pick the damn thing back up again. “Oh, you’ve got traps now?” he said. “Well, I got news for you, smart ass: I’ve been doing this shit for a whole decade and ain’t no vine going to stop my ass from burning everything in sight!”
His boldness turned to fear when he found himself face to face with a Venus Fly Trap, the owner of that tight vine. This particular plant had teeth the size of railroad spikes and blood oozing from its mouth like a waterfall. Mitch’s lips were vibrating and his eyes widened at the sight of this monster. And then he went back to being bold when he said, “Wait a minute! Why the hell am I scared of a goddamn plant?”
With his metal space helmet, Mitch O’Connor unleashed a powerful head butt to the Venus Fly Trap, loosening a few teeth and spraying some more blood, but more importantly, loosing the vine’s grip on the mercenary’s legs. Mitch plummeted to the grassy ground below, but his metal armor protected him from injury, so he pretty much picked himself up, dusted himself off, and found his rifle again.
“Is that all you got, Marcus? Some stupid plant? Oh, this is going to be easier than I thought! And I’m making millions off of this job! It’s like Christmas came early!” boasted Mitch.
“Don’t be too sure of that, you disgusting human!” said the busted up Venus Fly Trap in a raspy voice. With Mitch watching in awe and horror, the plant morphed into a human being wearing bear skin clothing and a raccoon cap on his head. This was him alright: Marcus Edge, hermit druid.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You want to put up a fight? Well, goddamn, man, you’ve got one now, bitch!” shouted the soldier for hire when he raised his gauss rifle and opened automatic fire. That many plutonium bullets would have been enough to shred a normal human being into dust. Hell, the surgeons would need a microscope to put his sorry ass back together again. But when the storm of bullets ended, there was no corpse.
Instead all Mitch O’Connor got was a deafening bird squawk right in his left ear. Marcus, who now morphed into a parrot, continued to blast his windpipes in his opponent’s ear and double the man over as he got a headache. When the druid believed his adversary had enough, he flew off into the sunset and left Mitch to clutch his aching head.
The sudden drop in volume inspired the mercenary to aim his rifle and unleash another rainstorm of violence upon his opponent. The shredding impact only resulted in one feather this time. On measly little feather.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” Good question, Mr. O’Connor. What was going on was that Marcus Edge had now morphed into a charging rhino. The tank-like beast barreled and stampeded his way across the grass and knocked a few trees over. With little time for his opponent to react, Marcus gored Mitch and sent him flying backwards several feet, knocking a few trees over himself.
That power armor was a blessing for Mitch since he had just survived a high drop and getting spear tackled by a rhino. But now the mercenary was feeling the pain. He was so exhausted from these attacks that he took longer than usual to get up. He crashed into trees, for god’s sake. Trees! Yet he continued to be brash and cocky in the face of danger.
“Is that all you got, you son of a bitch? What are you going to change into now, a small puppy? Are you going to bark your way to victory?” yelled Mitch.
Changing from a rhino back to his human form, Marcus slowly approached his nemesis and said, “No, I’m not going to do any barking today. That’s been your job since you landed on Stardust, you asshole.”
With Mitch watching in awe of his opponent, Marcus continued his speech with, “You know what I detest about the human race? You people think you have the right to conquer whatever the hell you want. You did it on earth with pretty much every group of people that wasn’t white, including Indians and Africans. That’s all you guys do: just take, take, take. You have some oil? I’ll take that. You have human rights? I’ll take that as well. Is that supposed to be impressive? To who, exactly? Your mother? Your father? Your trophy wife? The president himself? How many more people have to die before you’re finally satisfied with the things you already have! You make me sick! You all make me sick!”
An uncomfortable hush had fallen over the scene and then Marcus laid into Mitch some more, “That’s why I came to Stardust: to get away from it all. And now some space jockey like you decides to come to my world and sell it to some rich asshole? Let me fill you in on a little secret, buddy boy. Stardust isn’t just any tiny planet. It’s the product of my own imagination. As long as I keep being creative, I can manipulate any part of this world I want while you only have that stupid rifle to overcompensate for your small penis. To put it in words even a money-hungry thug like you can understand…you were screwed the minute you stepped foot on my world.”
This would have been the best time for Mitch O’Connor to get back in his spaceship and tell his bosses at World Corp to shove it. Just leave now while he still had his peace of mind and still had his health. But instead he decided to keep playing the role of an arrogant jerk-ass. He yelled, “You worthless piece of shit!” prior to opening fire yet again.
Except this time it wasn’t just plutonium bullets. It was also fireballs, ice sickles, lightning bolts, biological sludge, and laser beams, all of which were hidden compartments on his rifle and all of which were necessary in doing his job to destroy entire planets to get them ready for flipping.
After unloading a cataclysm of agony that Armageddon itself could never produce, Mitch didn’t even check to see if there was a corpse this time. He just dropped to his hands and knees, breathed deeply, and laughed his ass off. “I got you, bitch! I got you this time! And there ain’t nothing you can do about it!”
Mitch was so busy laughing his way to insanity that he didn’t realize he was sinking in a mud pit. Even when the mud was completely covering his space helmet, he couldn’t have cared less. It was when he was underneath the mud pit and into a cavern of filth that he realized what was going on. The realization hit him even harder when Marcus was standing there with his arms folded saying, “What took you so long?”
“No…no…this ain’t happening, man! This ain’t happening! Don’t you ever fucking die, man?!” screamed a deranged Mitch O’Connor.
Marcus laid a hand on his invader’s metal shoulder and said, “Old druids don’t die. They just get better.” With Mitch shedding tears of defeat, Marcus Edge transformed into a gigantic grizzly bear and started chewing and mauling his way through the metal armor, which at this point was a lot like opening a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Oh, the meat sauce inside was going to be so worth all this rage.
Stardust wasn’t the most complex world in the galaxy. Smallness aside, it appeared to be a jungle land complete with coconut trees, dirt trails, tall grass, plant life, just your everyday nature trail on planet earth. Even for a planet this tiny, Mitch still had a problem finding his target Marcus Edge. It didn’t help matters that the space mercenary was stomping around on the ground in his gigantic metal boots. Then again, his job didn’t require a great deal of stealth, so he didn’t dwell on it much.
“Marcus Edge!” shouted Mitch through an amplified microphone inside his space helmet. “I know your ass is around here somewhere! I’m feeling pretty good today, probably because toasting your little world is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done! So here’s what I’m going to do, Marcus: I’m going to give you the chance to get your hermit ass off this planet so that when I burn down the plant life and kill all the animals, you won’t have to be a part of it. My boss at World Corp wants to turn your little home into a vacation getaway. It don’t look like much of a vacation right now, buddy boy. It looks more like…”
Before he was allowed to finish his oratory, Mitch O’Connor’s legs were snatched up from underneath him and he hung upside down on a vine. He was so far off the ground that when he dropped his rifle, he couldn’t pick the damn thing back up again. “Oh, you’ve got traps now?” he said. “Well, I got news for you, smart ass: I’ve been doing this shit for a whole decade and ain’t no vine going to stop my ass from burning everything in sight!”
His boldness turned to fear when he found himself face to face with a Venus Fly Trap, the owner of that tight vine. This particular plant had teeth the size of railroad spikes and blood oozing from its mouth like a waterfall. Mitch’s lips were vibrating and his eyes widened at the sight of this monster. And then he went back to being bold when he said, “Wait a minute! Why the hell am I scared of a goddamn plant?”
With his metal space helmet, Mitch O’Connor unleashed a powerful head butt to the Venus Fly Trap, loosening a few teeth and spraying some more blood, but more importantly, loosing the vine’s grip on the mercenary’s legs. Mitch plummeted to the grassy ground below, but his metal armor protected him from injury, so he pretty much picked himself up, dusted himself off, and found his rifle again.
“Is that all you got, Marcus? Some stupid plant? Oh, this is going to be easier than I thought! And I’m making millions off of this job! It’s like Christmas came early!” boasted Mitch.
“Don’t be too sure of that, you disgusting human!” said the busted up Venus Fly Trap in a raspy voice. With Mitch watching in awe and horror, the plant morphed into a human being wearing bear skin clothing and a raccoon cap on his head. This was him alright: Marcus Edge, hermit druid.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You want to put up a fight? Well, goddamn, man, you’ve got one now, bitch!” shouted the soldier for hire when he raised his gauss rifle and opened automatic fire. That many plutonium bullets would have been enough to shred a normal human being into dust. Hell, the surgeons would need a microscope to put his sorry ass back together again. But when the storm of bullets ended, there was no corpse.
Instead all Mitch O’Connor got was a deafening bird squawk right in his left ear. Marcus, who now morphed into a parrot, continued to blast his windpipes in his opponent’s ear and double the man over as he got a headache. When the druid believed his adversary had enough, he flew off into the sunset and left Mitch to clutch his aching head.
The sudden drop in volume inspired the mercenary to aim his rifle and unleash another rainstorm of violence upon his opponent. The shredding impact only resulted in one feather this time. On measly little feather.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” Good question, Mr. O’Connor. What was going on was that Marcus Edge had now morphed into a charging rhino. The tank-like beast barreled and stampeded his way across the grass and knocked a few trees over. With little time for his opponent to react, Marcus gored Mitch and sent him flying backwards several feet, knocking a few trees over himself.
That power armor was a blessing for Mitch since he had just survived a high drop and getting spear tackled by a rhino. But now the mercenary was feeling the pain. He was so exhausted from these attacks that he took longer than usual to get up. He crashed into trees, for god’s sake. Trees! Yet he continued to be brash and cocky in the face of danger.
“Is that all you got, you son of a bitch? What are you going to change into now, a small puppy? Are you going to bark your way to victory?” yelled Mitch.
Changing from a rhino back to his human form, Marcus slowly approached his nemesis and said, “No, I’m not going to do any barking today. That’s been your job since you landed on Stardust, you asshole.”
With Mitch watching in awe of his opponent, Marcus continued his speech with, “You know what I detest about the human race? You people think you have the right to conquer whatever the hell you want. You did it on earth with pretty much every group of people that wasn’t white, including Indians and Africans. That’s all you guys do: just take, take, take. You have some oil? I’ll take that. You have human rights? I’ll take that as well. Is that supposed to be impressive? To who, exactly? Your mother? Your father? Your trophy wife? The president himself? How many more people have to die before you’re finally satisfied with the things you already have! You make me sick! You all make me sick!”
An uncomfortable hush had fallen over the scene and then Marcus laid into Mitch some more, “That’s why I came to Stardust: to get away from it all. And now some space jockey like you decides to come to my world and sell it to some rich asshole? Let me fill you in on a little secret, buddy boy. Stardust isn’t just any tiny planet. It’s the product of my own imagination. As long as I keep being creative, I can manipulate any part of this world I want while you only have that stupid rifle to overcompensate for your small penis. To put it in words even a money-hungry thug like you can understand…you were screwed the minute you stepped foot on my world.”
This would have been the best time for Mitch O’Connor to get back in his spaceship and tell his bosses at World Corp to shove it. Just leave now while he still had his peace of mind and still had his health. But instead he decided to keep playing the role of an arrogant jerk-ass. He yelled, “You worthless piece of shit!” prior to opening fire yet again.
Except this time it wasn’t just plutonium bullets. It was also fireballs, ice sickles, lightning bolts, biological sludge, and laser beams, all of which were hidden compartments on his rifle and all of which were necessary in doing his job to destroy entire planets to get them ready for flipping.
After unloading a cataclysm of agony that Armageddon itself could never produce, Mitch didn’t even check to see if there was a corpse this time. He just dropped to his hands and knees, breathed deeply, and laughed his ass off. “I got you, bitch! I got you this time! And there ain’t nothing you can do about it!”
Mitch was so busy laughing his way to insanity that he didn’t realize he was sinking in a mud pit. Even when the mud was completely covering his space helmet, he couldn’t have cared less. It was when he was underneath the mud pit and into a cavern of filth that he realized what was going on. The realization hit him even harder when Marcus was standing there with his arms folded saying, “What took you so long?”
“No…no…this ain’t happening, man! This ain’t happening! Don’t you ever fucking die, man?!” screamed a deranged Mitch O’Connor.
Marcus laid a hand on his invader’s metal shoulder and said, “Old druids don’t die. They just get better.” With Mitch shedding tears of defeat, Marcus Edge transformed into a gigantic grizzly bear and started chewing and mauling his way through the metal armor, which at this point was a lot like opening a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Oh, the meat sauce inside was going to be so worth all this rage.
Hanging Around
***HANGING AROUND***
For the past two weeks, my brother James and I babysat the puppies and kitties while my mom and step-dad Dale went to North Carolina to do some remodeling of their future retirement home. These two weeks would have been an awesome time to get some serious creative work done and so far, so good. I gave Andy Peloquin’s “Blade of the Destroyer” novel a four-star detailed review and did the same to Carl Hiaasen’s “Star Island” book. I also participated in two WSS contests and that’s why “Nail Bomb” and “Kill, Cut, Scalp” are in my Deviant Art gallery. I snapped some toy pictures of Daniel Bryan, Roman Reigns, Homer Simpson, and Wario. I drew pictures of Katie Evans from “Froggy Smacks” and Machu Throatslash from “Ascension”, both stories a part of the Poison Tongue Tales anthology. I wrote a four-star review for a WWE match between The Prime Time Players and The New Day that took place at this year’s Battleground pay-per-view. I edited the shit out of an American Darkness story called “It’s Okay For You to Love Me”. And last but not least, I FINALLY pumped out the first chapter of Blood Brawl, which used to be called Dungeons & Dragons: Hair vs. Hair, but has since been changed.
You probably think the main reason for telling you all what I did over the two weeks my parents were gone is so that I can brag and get my jollies off. As much as I love to let my arrogant side every now and then, that’s not why I’m writing this journal. This journal is titled “Hanging Around”, which if you look it up on Urbandictionary.com is just a synonym for idling or doing very little. Truth be told, it doesn’t take a great amount of time to do all of the creative tasks I did in those two weeks. Snapping pictures takes literally a few seconds while writing a short story or novel chapter can take anywhere between half an hour to a full hour.
Yes, I got a lot done, but what about the downtime in between creative work? Most people fill this time up by doing chores, going to their day jobs, or hanging out with family members and friends. While it is true that I had a lot of chores to do to maintain this two-story house and keep the animals happy, the chores are also super easy to do and don’t take very long, so that’s even more downtime that I have between creative projects. Closing this gap seems like an easy thing to do at first glance. Okay, so I’ve edited an American Darkness story, so my next project to hop on is writing a chapter of Blood Brawl.
Except it doesn’t work that way, at least not in my world. You know what I do during my downtime? Plenty of things that would constitute “Hanging Around”: napping to new age music, checking my online messages, dinking around on Face Book, and walking around my house like a zombie while talking to myself (usually reciting dialogue from Clerks or Pulp Fiction). So basically, instead of being a relentless worker, I am a professional zombie.
While I’m frying my brain on Face Book and snoozing despite not being tired, I’m doing something that brings all of this idling to light: waiting. I’m waiting for my mental energy to be restored. Only with maximum mental energy can I plow through my creative projects. Anything less and I just crash at the first few words of the story. For years I’ve tried to figure out the secret to my mental exhaustion and I have many answers: sleep apnea, schizophrenia medications, bad diet, minimal exercise, and an aversion to low barometric pressures. That’s a lot of things I have to fix just to be active and alert 24/7. But the one thing that outweighs all of those other problems is my sleep apnea.
Sometime when Mom and Dale are home, I fully intend to make an appointment with a sleep clinic to see if I need a breathing mask or not. I probably do, but the clinic visit is just a formality. Until then, I have to admit that I feel guilty about watching my time go by. I have no excuses. The reason I don’t get much done is because I’m literally sitting around doing nothing while waiting for my brain to stop being an asshole to me. As someone with a strong work ethic and an even stronger creative urge, this makes the guilt more powerful.
But you all have told me over and over again that I don’t need to feel guilty over not getting everything done at once. I sound like a broken record when I talk about mental energy, but that’s because I can’t thank you guys enough for taking that weight off of my shoulders. I hope you can continue to support me now that you know I’ve been spending most of my free time “hanging around” instead of relentlessly working.
I’m actually thankful I don’t have a day job right now. Even with my sleep apnea-induced mental tiredness, I’d still have to work an eight hour day doing presumably boring work just to pick up a paycheck. To those of you who have you are enduring the corporate grind, you have my empathy, my love, and my thanks. I don’t know how you do it, but I have all the respect in the world for you.
I do have plans to get some creative work done after Mom and Dale get home tomorrow. Bulldozing my way through unedited American Darkness stories is a top priority. Writing the second chapter of Blood Brawl and introducing Ivan Blackstone to the story is another top priority. Before those two things, it’s a new week at the WSS contest and the prompt suggestion is “Different Worlds”. Here’s a synopsis of my eventual story this week, which is called “Stardust”:
CHARACTERS:
Marcus Edge, Morphing Druid
Mitch O’Connor, Space Mercenary
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Stardust is a world different from our own.
SYNOPSIS: Mitch is hired by an intergalactic corporation called World Corp to colonize planets by killing off the inhabitants and burning the plant life, thus getting them ready for rebuilding into the CEO’s image. Mitch has been doing this kind of work for a whole decade, but when he goes to a hermit’s planet called Stardust, he finally meets his match when the one person he has to kill is a shape-shifting druid named Marcus Edge. Marcus can change into any kind of earthen animal from a wolf to a bear to even something as annoying as a deerfly. During the battle, he reveals that the reason he became a hermit was because of his disgust with the human race.
I do have bursts of energy every now and then and I’ll always have free time of some kind. Come hell or high water, these projects will be done and they’ll be done the right way. You hear that, American Darkness stories? The Hate Train is coming for your asses! Hahahahahaha! The only reason I’m calling it the Hate Train is because it’s also the name of a Sanction VIII song and that was the first band that played on the night I went to see Cavalera Conspiracy in Seattle this past May. And as long as I’m making references to obscure metal bands who probably don’t venture outside of the Sea-Tac area…
(Points to American Darkness) This is what I stand for!
(Points to Stardust) This is why I fight!
(Points to Blood Brawl) This is what I live for!
Prepare to die tonight!
We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“The Miz is WWE’s version of Right Said Fred: he’s a one hit wonder.”
-John Layfield-
For the past two weeks, my brother James and I babysat the puppies and kitties while my mom and step-dad Dale went to North Carolina to do some remodeling of their future retirement home. These two weeks would have been an awesome time to get some serious creative work done and so far, so good. I gave Andy Peloquin’s “Blade of the Destroyer” novel a four-star detailed review and did the same to Carl Hiaasen’s “Star Island” book. I also participated in two WSS contests and that’s why “Nail Bomb” and “Kill, Cut, Scalp” are in my Deviant Art gallery. I snapped some toy pictures of Daniel Bryan, Roman Reigns, Homer Simpson, and Wario. I drew pictures of Katie Evans from “Froggy Smacks” and Machu Throatslash from “Ascension”, both stories a part of the Poison Tongue Tales anthology. I wrote a four-star review for a WWE match between The Prime Time Players and The New Day that took place at this year’s Battleground pay-per-view. I edited the shit out of an American Darkness story called “It’s Okay For You to Love Me”. And last but not least, I FINALLY pumped out the first chapter of Blood Brawl, which used to be called Dungeons & Dragons: Hair vs. Hair, but has since been changed.
You probably think the main reason for telling you all what I did over the two weeks my parents were gone is so that I can brag and get my jollies off. As much as I love to let my arrogant side every now and then, that’s not why I’m writing this journal. This journal is titled “Hanging Around”, which if you look it up on Urbandictionary.com is just a synonym for idling or doing very little. Truth be told, it doesn’t take a great amount of time to do all of the creative tasks I did in those two weeks. Snapping pictures takes literally a few seconds while writing a short story or novel chapter can take anywhere between half an hour to a full hour.
Yes, I got a lot done, but what about the downtime in between creative work? Most people fill this time up by doing chores, going to their day jobs, or hanging out with family members and friends. While it is true that I had a lot of chores to do to maintain this two-story house and keep the animals happy, the chores are also super easy to do and don’t take very long, so that’s even more downtime that I have between creative projects. Closing this gap seems like an easy thing to do at first glance. Okay, so I’ve edited an American Darkness story, so my next project to hop on is writing a chapter of Blood Brawl.
Except it doesn’t work that way, at least not in my world. You know what I do during my downtime? Plenty of things that would constitute “Hanging Around”: napping to new age music, checking my online messages, dinking around on Face Book, and walking around my house like a zombie while talking to myself (usually reciting dialogue from Clerks or Pulp Fiction). So basically, instead of being a relentless worker, I am a professional zombie.
While I’m frying my brain on Face Book and snoozing despite not being tired, I’m doing something that brings all of this idling to light: waiting. I’m waiting for my mental energy to be restored. Only with maximum mental energy can I plow through my creative projects. Anything less and I just crash at the first few words of the story. For years I’ve tried to figure out the secret to my mental exhaustion and I have many answers: sleep apnea, schizophrenia medications, bad diet, minimal exercise, and an aversion to low barometric pressures. That’s a lot of things I have to fix just to be active and alert 24/7. But the one thing that outweighs all of those other problems is my sleep apnea.
Sometime when Mom and Dale are home, I fully intend to make an appointment with a sleep clinic to see if I need a breathing mask or not. I probably do, but the clinic visit is just a formality. Until then, I have to admit that I feel guilty about watching my time go by. I have no excuses. The reason I don’t get much done is because I’m literally sitting around doing nothing while waiting for my brain to stop being an asshole to me. As someone with a strong work ethic and an even stronger creative urge, this makes the guilt more powerful.
But you all have told me over and over again that I don’t need to feel guilty over not getting everything done at once. I sound like a broken record when I talk about mental energy, but that’s because I can’t thank you guys enough for taking that weight off of my shoulders. I hope you can continue to support me now that you know I’ve been spending most of my free time “hanging around” instead of relentlessly working.
I’m actually thankful I don’t have a day job right now. Even with my sleep apnea-induced mental tiredness, I’d still have to work an eight hour day doing presumably boring work just to pick up a paycheck. To those of you who have you are enduring the corporate grind, you have my empathy, my love, and my thanks. I don’t know how you do it, but I have all the respect in the world for you.
I do have plans to get some creative work done after Mom and Dale get home tomorrow. Bulldozing my way through unedited American Darkness stories is a top priority. Writing the second chapter of Blood Brawl and introducing Ivan Blackstone to the story is another top priority. Before those two things, it’s a new week at the WSS contest and the prompt suggestion is “Different Worlds”. Here’s a synopsis of my eventual story this week, which is called “Stardust”:
CHARACTERS:
Marcus Edge, Morphing Druid
Mitch O’Connor, Space Mercenary
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Stardust is a world different from our own.
SYNOPSIS: Mitch is hired by an intergalactic corporation called World Corp to colonize planets by killing off the inhabitants and burning the plant life, thus getting them ready for rebuilding into the CEO’s image. Mitch has been doing this kind of work for a whole decade, but when he goes to a hermit’s planet called Stardust, he finally meets his match when the one person he has to kill is a shape-shifting druid named Marcus Edge. Marcus can change into any kind of earthen animal from a wolf to a bear to even something as annoying as a deerfly. During the battle, he reveals that the reason he became a hermit was because of his disgust with the human race.
I do have bursts of energy every now and then and I’ll always have free time of some kind. Come hell or high water, these projects will be done and they’ll be done the right way. You hear that, American Darkness stories? The Hate Train is coming for your asses! Hahahahahaha! The only reason I’m calling it the Hate Train is because it’s also the name of a Sanction VIII song and that was the first band that played on the night I went to see Cavalera Conspiracy in Seattle this past May. And as long as I’m making references to obscure metal bands who probably don’t venture outside of the Sea-Tac area…
(Points to American Darkness) This is what I stand for!
(Points to Stardust) This is why I fight!
(Points to Blood Brawl) This is what I live for!
Prepare to die tonight!
We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“The Miz is WWE’s version of Right Said Fred: he’s a one hit wonder.”
-John Layfield-
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