2013 - Goals and 2012 - Accomplishments

Every year around this time, people start putting together a list of "resolutions" for the new year.  Not me.  Not that I don't plan on doing things in the new year, I just don't believe in resolutions.  If I'm going to make a change, I make it for good at the time I need it.  That's not to say resolutions are a bad thing, just not for me.  I had a look back at my list of things I wanted to do this year (I called them goals), and it really only boiled down to a couple of things.  I wanted to lose weight (because I felt like a fat slob) and publish more.  Everything else seemed to be an offshoot of those two things.  So since there were really only two things I wanted to accomplish this past year, let's tackle that list first.

• Lose Weight/Get Healthier - Check, and check!  2012 marks the 2-year anniversary of my quitting smoking, and by the end of the year I've dropped 40 lbs.  You read that right.  I no longer weigh in at 240 pounds, I can now outrun most of my Kajukenbo students, and my pants fit better.  I've worked hard to get this way, and I'm planning on keeping the weight off.
• Publish More - I don't know if this counts as "more," but I did have two books come out this year.  The first one, ECTOSTORM, was the third of the "Stanley Cooper Chronicles."  The second, DROPLETS, was bittersweet because, while it was a collection of all my short stories, the proceeds helped to fund my wife's fight against cancer.  Nice of the publisher, sad that the situation arose where I'd need such help. 

So what's on tap for next year?  Lessee....

• More Weight Loss - I'm planning on getting down to 180 pounds.  That's twenty more pounds to go.  Yes, I can do this.  Yes, I will do this. 
• Publish - Really, this is more up to my agent than me, so I think this should actually read "write quality things that publishers will pick up."
• Write More - I've been a bit distracted this year, and the writing has taken a back seat.  With all the garbage going on in my personal life, it's easy to get bogged down.  And that's just what I've done.  But I'm getting back to it.  I have ideas for not one, but three books, and I'm going to try to finish two of them this year.  

I'll spare you the depressing wants for next year.  I'm sure, if you follow this blog, you can guess what they are.  What I will say is that I look forward to the new year with a considerable amount of trepidation, a bit of uncertainty, and not a small amount of dread of things that might come to pass.  But also, hope.  I have, and will continue to have hope.  I am not, by nature, an optimist.  I'm more a pessimist or (as I prefer to think of myself) a realist.  I have no illusions, but hope springs eternal.

And now, a challenge for you.  Are you up to it?  I hope so.  Over the course of the new year, make a life change.  I don't mean resolve to exercise and give it up after a month, make some real life changes.  Things that irrevocably alter your vision of the world.  Things that make you a better person.  Stuck for examples?  Glad you asked. 

• Exercise - I don't care if it's walking around the block or running a marathon.  Take up exercise. Get healthy.  Do it now.  Don't wait until your health fails you because you failed it. 
• Try New Foods - My wife once made this horrifyingly putrid-looking substance she called "football dip."  For the record, it's made of cream cheese blended with picante sauce.  It looked awful, but she made me try it.  I need to tell you that this stuff is like food crack.  It's addictive, bad for me, and wonderful.  Try new food.  You never know what you'll get.  
• Get Into the World - Have a new experience.  Expand your experience.  Something you've always wanted to do?  Now.  Do it now.  Something that terrifies you that you've never done?  Try it.  You might like it.  
• Adopt an Animal - Maybe I'm having a case of missing my dearly departed pup, Bogie, but it's a good thing to do.  Go to a shelter and adopt a dog or cat, puppy or kitten.  Adopt a creature that wouldn't have a chance to survive without you.  I can tell you, honestly, it's one of the best things I've ever done, and you'll get a friend for life. 

The last thing I have to say may fall into a "no shit, Sherlock" moment, but I'm saying it anyway.  Tell someone how much you love them.  Your wife, husband, partner, children, mom, dad... Tell them.  Even if you've said it, say it again.  You never get those moments back.  You can never say it enough.  Let them know that they're loved.  Don't let it ever be too late. 

See you in the new year. 

SAJ

ECTOSTORM Cover!

What you see above is the final front cover for my newest novel, ECTOSTORM:  Book Three of the Stanley Cooper Chronicles, put out by Twisted Library Press (Formerly Library of the Living Dead).  The cover was done by the same insanely talented fellow who did the covers for VERMIN and PAGES, Romik Safarian.  I'd provide a link, but there's nothing on his website right now, and that's a damned shame because he's my go-to guy for all cover art.  

In this chapter of Stanley Cooper's life, he meets a group of people who, like himself, died and came back.  But, because life can never be warm and fluffy, someone starts killing the members of that group. A bloody message on the wall leads Stanley to believe that the killer is none other than the betrayer of Evergreen, who wants him to surrender for purposes unknown.  On the other side of the coin, demons want to kill Stanley to keep him from surrendering to the traitor.  Either way, Stanley seems hosed.  

ECTOSTORM is a very special book because it was funded by fans through Kickstarter.  

When ECTOSTORM becomes available, you'd better believe I'll post a link and maybe even run a contest for a few free copies!  

"I've always wanted to..."

A man walked up to a concert pianist one day and, after listening to him play for an hour, said to him "I'd give my life to play like that."  The pianist smiled and said simply "I did."

So often, we writers are faced with people who say "I've always wanted to write a book."  And to them I ask "What's stopping you?"  A long list of excuses pop up ranging from time to money to kids to every other damned thing under the sun.  To which I reply "Well, then, you really haven't always wanted to, have you?  Because if you did, if it was really something you were passionate about doing, you'd do it despite the hardships."  Okay, maybe that makes me come off as an asshole, but I'll deal with that.  It's a valid question, and one that you need to ask yourself every day.  There's something you want to do, something you've always wanted to do.  So do it.  Get off your ass and do it.  Oh, sure, it's simplistic advice, but in truth, there's none other to give on the subject.  Let me explain.

If I were to say "I couldn't write a novel because I have two kids, three jobs, a wife, two car payments and bills to pay," I would never get another thing written.  Ever.  Because that's my mindset.  All the responsibility of the world heaped on my shoulders, and no time to do what I want to do.  But that's not what I did.  Without dropping a single piece of that list of crap (I still have multiple jobs, two kids, etc...) I still managed to find time to write a dozen novels, and have no intention of stopping.  How?  Glad you asked.

For me, writing is a priority.  It's not something I do for the hell of it.  Believe me, there are much more brain-numbing things that a person could do after work.  But because it's important to me, because it's something I truly have always wanted to do, I make time to do it.  Notice, I didn't say "find time."  I said "make time."

It applies to pretty much anything in your life.  Take a look at the things you want to do and ask yourself what's stopping you.  Is it time?  Family?  Money?  In my mind, the last one is the only one that presents any type of real obstacle, and even that can be overcome by shifting priorities.

I suppose the point of this whole entry is this:  If there's something you want to do, do it.  You can teach yourself to play piano, learn to ride a motorcycle, and, yes, even write a novel.  Those things that you are passionate about, follow.  Your friends and family will understand.  And so what if they don't?  It's your passion.  Follow it.  No one's saying it's easy.  Hell, making time to write novels and teach and work and raise children and be a family guy and teach karate and...and...and... *deep breath*  It's exhausting.  But it's also rewarding.  I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing.  As frustrating as this business is, I can't imagine myself doing anything else.

Jump in with both feet.  Feel the water go over your head, and revel in it.

Here, There Be Monsters...

The Seton Hill "Readings in the Genre" course has begun, lead by your's truly. Our subject this time around?  Monsters.  They hold a dear place in my heart because, really, aren't we all monsters of a sort?  More on that in a minute.

I've chosen a motley crew of misanthropic mayhem masters about whom my students must read.  Included are Vampires (that don't sparkle, dammit), werewolves, golems, demons and... well... snow.  Trust me, it all works somehow.  But I think the question that begs answer is this:  Why are we so fascinated by monsters?  Lets look at the famous monsters of literature (I'm not talking movies...Most of those are one-dimensional sacks of fetid dingo's kidneys) and see what makes them so special.

Adam (the creation from Frankenstein... yes, his name was Adam) fascinated us with his simplicity, his desire to be loved.  Child-like, he was dragged into this world and before he could even begin to question his existence, he was rejected by his creator.  Anyone who's ever watched children on the playground knows how children act:  As Adam himself stated, "If I couldn't inspire love, I would then cause fear."  How many children react to rejection with more rejection?  Most of them.  Adam is, for all intents and purposes, a child in the body of a man, lacking the maturity that comes with age, but possessing all the tools to destroy his enemies.

Dracula, on the other hand, possesses the wisdom of immortality.  Say what you will, but Dracula is not a horror story.  It's a romance.  A tragic romance, to be certain, but a romance nonetheless.  It is, for all intents and purposes, the story that asks the reader how far he or she would go for love?  Cross an ocean?  A continent?  Reject God?  The titular character is, from his point of view, justified.  Granted, he's been driven mad by the rigors of immortality and having to feed on the life forces of others to survive, but in his mind, all he wants is the girl he lost to an uncaring God.

Look at Quasimodo from Hunchback of Notre Dame or Eric from The Phantom of the Opera and you'll see miserably misshapen men brought to their demises by the search for love and the madness that comes with it.  But the last two aren't "monsters," are they?  Not really, but they became monsters.  Much like we do.

Monsters, historically, take one of our darkest desires, one of our emotions, one of our flaws, and amplify it (or them) to ridiculous degrees until the creature in question becomes the stuff of nightmares.  So if that is true (and it is), then why are we so fascinated with monsters?

Because they are us.  They are our fear.  They are our passions.  They are our souls, twisted almost beyond recognition and then shown to us.  They are what happens when we forget our humanity.  They are what happens when we lack the wisdom to walk away.  Monsters are designed to teach us lessons about ourselves.  You'll notice, I never called Adam a monster.  Because he wasn't.  His creator, Victor, blinded by ambition and selfish pride, was the monster.   Yet it was Adam with whom we identified.  Because we've all been that creature.  We've all felt betrayed, thrown out by those who should, but don't, care.

They are us.  We are them.  When you read about monsters, think hard about them.  Sympathize with them.  Because they are our brothers and sisters.

And So it Begins... Again...

A while ago (around 2010), I went on a drastic program and lost a significant amount of weight.  In all honesty, I dropped about fifty pounds and went from weighing around 225 to around 180 in about six months.  It was a difficult process, but one I enjoyed and one that came with more benefits than just my pants fitting better.  The next year, I decided to make a drastic lifestyle change and quit smoking.  That's right.  Since May of 2011, I've not had a cigarette.  But there was a problem.  As do many people trying to kick the habit, I put on some weight.  In fact, I put on all the weight I'd lost, plus a few more.  At the moment of this writing, I weigh now more than I ever have, 236 pounds.  And it feels awful.  A drastic weight gain like that does a lot of horrible things to a person's body, not the least of which is joint and back pain, limited endurance, and the overall feeling that it shouldn't be so damned difficult to bend over to tie one's shoes in the morning.

So here we are, 2012, and I, like so many others, are headed to the gym to try to live a healthier lifestyle.  While most of them will give up after a few weeks, I won't.  I've lost the weight before, and I can do it again.  How?  Incentives.  First off, I feel like I've let the entire Kajukenbo Ohana down by becoming such a fat slob.  I've dedicated more than twenty years of my life to the study of martial arts, and I'm not going to be that guy anymore.  Second, I want to be around to see my grandkids (not any time soon, please), and it seems like being healthier is a good way to do that.  Third, Tabby said that if I meet my weight loss goal, I can order a new kilt.  That alone will do it for me.

So what challenges are there?  Well, the biggest one is the most obvious:  I love to eat.  Italian, Chinese, Greek, Mexican, you name it, I love to eat it.  I'm a food junkie.  I love potatoes and gravy, steak and beer, creamy alfredo sauces...  It's tough quit eating the things a person loves, so I'm going to attempt to make the above things, but in a light (but still flavorful) way.  Yes, I can cook.   Second, my jobs are such that I spend an enormous amount of time on my butt looking at a computer screen.  That's why the gym is across campus and I'm going to walk to it instead of driving or riding to it.  Third, time is an issue.  My boss, however, was kind enough to allow me extra time on my lunch hour to do my training.

So here's what's going to happen:  Starting now (as in Sunday, January 1, 2012), I'm on a low-fat, low sodium diet.  Tabby's on the same diet for medical reasons, so it should be good.   Today (Monday, January 2, 2012) I went to renew my gym membership.  Thursday through next week, I'll be in Pittsburgh.  Starting Monday, January 16 2012, I'm going to be in the gym five days a week.  My weight loss goal is simple:  By the residency in June, I'll weigh no more than 180 lbs.  That means I have to lose 57 pounds in 6.5 months.  Can I do it?  You betcha.  I'm also going to be taking photos of myself once a week to track my progress.  Don't worry...I'm not posting them here.  I won't torture you that way.  But when I've lost the weight, I'm going to compile them into a time-lapse thing so I can see my progress.  I may post that.  I may not.  I'll also be posting any good recipes I find for low-fat, healthy food.  We'll start with this one:

Scott's Low-Fat Beef Stroganoff
Ingredients:

• 1 bag whole-grain noodles (I prefer spirals or twists)
• 1 yellow onion
• 1 large container fresh mushrooms
• 1 medium container of LITE sour cream
• 2 tblspns low-fat, low salt margarine
• 1/2 cup red wine
• 1 package of low salt, low fat beef stock
• lean meat.  (I prefer a London Broil because it's cut lean)

Directions:

1. dice your onion and put it in a pan with margarine at medium heat and cook until clear.  
2. slice the mushrooms and throw them into the pan too.  Cook the mixture for about ten to fifteen minutes or until the mushrooms are tender and no longer feel like styrofoam. 
3. Pour in your wine and stir in well.  Let the mixture simmer and reduce.  
4. Pour in the beef stock and stir in.  Bring to a boil and let it reduce for about ten minutes or more, depending on taste. 
5. Boil your noodles.
6. Mix in the sour cream.  NOTE:  There's a trick to it.  Put the sour cream in a mug (like a coffee mug) and gradually raise the temperature by spooning in some of the hot broth and mixing in the coffee cup.  When you have the sour cream mixture at close to the correct  temperature, then mix it in.  Otherwise, you'll curdle the sour cream.  
7. Heat to boiling and let it reduce. 
8. Set your oven to "broil" and let heat for five minutes. 
9. Rub the London Broil with your favorite low-sodium steak dust, and let it sit for a few minutes.
10. Cook your London Broil.  CAUTION: It cooks very quickly.  Seven minutes, then turn it over, and it could very well be done.  Remember, red meat is supposed to be pink in the middle, not grey. 

Serving

Beef Stroganoff is meant to look as good as it tastes.  Suggested serving is as follows:  On a plate, lay out a bed of noodles.  Then slice between four and six (THIN) slices of your London Broil.  Using a small ladle, put your sauce over the meat.  It should not run all over the plate.  If it does, you've used too much.  However, a gravy-boat filled with sauce might be appreciated by your guests.  Top with a sprig of fresh parsley or some chives, and serve with steamed broccoli.

That's it.  That's my recipe.  Hope you like it!  And here's the cool thing:  If you used low-fat sour cream and lean meat, this is actually a healthy meal. 

Oh, and happy new year. 

'Twas the Night Before KRAMPUS

Ever wonder what happens to the boys and girls who don't make Santa's "nice" list?  They fall victim to the fearsome beast named...Krampus.  Tonight, we present a special Christmas tale called..."Twas the Night Before Krampus."

Listen to the MP3 of this poem by clicking here! 

Twas the night before Christmas

And deep in our bunker

My mom, dad, sister and

I did hunker.

The streetlights were dark

No carolers sang

not even the blessings

of church bells rang.

And beneath our beds

We all huddled tight

And hoped he would pass

by our house tonight.

Everyone knows of

Jolly Saint Nick

and the gifts he brings

on his single night trick.

And the presents and baubles

and candy and toys

that he brings every Christmas

to good girls and boys

But it wasn't the man

with red suit and white beard

whose annual Christmas

visit we feared

Outside in the snow

we heard a loud howl

the crunching of ice

and an animal growl

I heard it sniff by our

window payne

then a throaty laugh

and saw red eyes like flame

My sister and I

both stared horrified

and prayed that the creature

could not get inside

but a moment later

a thundering pound

turned our door to splinters

all over the ground

I screamed as the creature

into our home came

This horrible beast

Von Krampus by name

He was massively tall

At least seven feet

From the points of his horns

to his hoof-shodden feet

Across his back what I

Mistook for a coat

Was the shaggy long hair

of a filthy dead goat

And I cried and I swallowed

My terrified pangs

at the sight of his wickedly

razor-sharp fangs.

His claw-fingered hands

looked ready for pain

in one was a bullwhip

the other a chain

He growled and sneered

and laughed for a while

then he pointed at us

and said "Naughty" with a smile

My sister and I

Both shook with fear

what terrible things

had we done this year?

We tried to be good

and thought we succeeded

we minded our manners

no punishment needed

We both made good grades!

We neither one lied

or cheated or stole

We had nothing to hide!

But Krampus still came

With his evil heart black

to steal us away,

Stuff us in his sack

To take us away

to his punishment cave

where all the bad children

forever his slaves

We turned to our parents

behind them to hide

but they both shook their heads

and sadly stepped aside

"You must face the music"

My father lamented

Von Krampus then laughed

his expression demented

My sister and I

hugged each other tight

And prayed that someone

could save us that night

And just when we gave up

and all hope was gone

there came a loud clatter

from out on the lawn

With a tinkle of bells

our spirits did lift

Von Krampus snarled

the air he did sniff

On the wind came the scent

of holly and pine

of gingerbread cookies

and holiday wine

In the doorway he stood

in his suit of bright red

St. Nicholas came!

We cried out and said:

"Save us St. Nicholas!

There's been a mistake!

We've been good all year!

You can't let him take..."

"Hold on!  Not so fast!"

He raised his great hand

"There is something happening

you don't understand!

Von Krampus did come

that much is true

but the demon of Christmas

did NOT come for you."

At the demon we stared

both of us confused.

He had to be here for

somebody...but who?

Then I started to think

and all became clear.

Who'd been the naughtiest

of all that year?

Well...Mommy drank vodka

by pitchers and glasses

and Daddy watched porn

and cheated on taxes.

And Mommy spent far too much

time on her hair

and Daddy had something

he called "an affair."

And Mommy spent all of

my birthday money.

And Daddy called sister

his own secret honey

The more that I thought

the more I understood

We children were fine,

But the parents, no good.

"But Krampus takes children!"

My father protested.

And Santa's face twisted

toward the man he detested.

"Christmas time is for children,

And gifts to be given.

You took their innocence

and that can't be forgiven.

You scared them into silence

their souls you did twist

And to top it off told them

I didn't exist.

For your your lifelong naughtiness

The piper must be paid."

And set Krampus upon them

with a dismissive wave.

The adults screamed as they

went into his sack

And we cried until Santa

patted my back.

"What's wrong?" Asked Saint Nickolas

"I thought you'd be happy

to be rid of those people

who treated you crappy."

"We are," I sniffed,

sincere as could be.

"But what is to become

of my sister and me?"

St. Nickolas smiled

And laughed loud and deep

As did Krampus, A sound

that still haunts my sleep

"Why, you'll come with me!"

He said with great joy.

"I have great use for

a good girl and boy!

You'll come to my workshop

and work with my elves

I promise that you will

enjoy yourselves!

I'll teach you my secrets

my toy making ways

And you'll take over when

I've ended my days!"

"But..."  Said my sister.

"What about him?

Won't Krampus be lonely?"

She scratched his chin

"I wish to thank him

And I know the way

I will go with him and

be his protoge!"

And so, from Kris Kringle

I learned to make toys

and my sister to torture

Naughty girls and boys.

And every evening

from that point thereafter

My dreams were full of parent screams

and my sister's laughter.

And so this ends our

Happy Christmas Story

If you're nice and not naughty

You've no need to worry

But if your heart's full of coal

and you're an evil mister

Try to hide, but you'll soon meet

Krampus and my sister.

Twas the Night Before Christmas...MY WAY.

I've been reading and performing this for years, but this is my version of "Twas the Night Before Christmas."  Hope you enjoy it.   I'll post the other version (Twas the Night Before Krampus) later. 




Listen to the MP3!

T'was the night before Christmas

In my mausoleum.

The ghosts were about

but only I could see 'em.

There were chains on the gates,

and snares on the ground.

Not good at Christmas

to have zombies walking around

The corpses were snuggled

and locked in their coffins.

And they never complained

well...at least not often.

And I hunkered down

inside my old crypt

and resumed my vigil

for the fat-man's night trip.

When from out in the grave yard

there arose such a ruccus

I ran past the headstones

with pants on my tuccus...

The moonlight fell down

in a softening glow

setting the headstones

alight in the snow.

Amid all the finery

of the white wonderland

I spied a lone zombie

chewing on a hand.

Then beyond, a few more

around the downed sleigh

I took up my pitchfork

and leapt in the fray

The zombies were feasting

on Santa's entrails

and wiping their mouths

on fluffy reindeer tails

I kicked them and beat them

and sent them a'scurry.

I had to save Santa

double quick in a hurry

But just as I cleared

away all the rot,

I found that my struggles

had all been for naught

Santa, what was left

was a puddle of goo,

the sleigh was demolished,

The reindeer dead too.

Poor children of the world,

for they would not see

any toys for Christmas.

All because of me.

I hadn't been quick enough

I'd slacked in my task

But I could set it right

with one favor to ask.

I lit a black candle

and knelt in the snow

for the old ones like ritual

like this, don't you know?

I called to Cthulhu

to beg him this favor.

In my determination

I never did waver.

The earth it did shake

and smoke gathered round

when the tentacled old-one

came up from the ground.

I asked him my favor,

he squinted his eye,

then he shook his head slowly

and said "Again?" with a sigh.

"This happened last year

in case you don't remember.

I usually like to see

people dismembered."

But I begged him please

and he sighed "very well,

but that's now five million years

you must spend in hell."

He waved his great arms

and blood did congeal,

wood did unsplinter,

contusions did heal.

The sleigh was intact,

none the worse for wear.

And the reindeer now lived,

despite missing some hair

And what of the fate

of the jolly-red elf?

Said the old one, "I'd planned

on eating him myself."

But a deal was a deal,

he had to concede.

The soul of the fat man,

for this year, was freed.

The goo pulled together

and began to reform

as toys all around him

began to swarm.

In an instant he was

as he was meant to be.

He seemed back to normal

from what I could see.

Some pieces were missing,

sure that I'll admit,

but we couldn't find everything

the zombies had bit..

But his nose like a button

and his great giant belly

both came back from

the puddle of jelly

He climbed in his sleigh

and whipped the deer hard

And flew with such speed

from my lonely graveyard.

And although I helped him,

I'll still get coal rocks

for a zombie destroyed

Old Saint Nick's voice box.

He was almost perfect,

the best I could do,

considering he'd just been

a puddle of goo.

He flew through the sky

and never looked back.

Who would, after such

a zombie attack?

But I did hear him call

as he drove out of sight,

"Arroughahghhghghtall

arrluglushjghgooghight!"

Looking Back, Looking Forward

We're mere weeks away from the end of 2011 and the beginning of 2012.  Last year, around this time, I put up a list of goals for the following year.  I'm happy to say I accomplished most, if not all of them. I did, in fact, lose a great deal of weight (which I promptly gained back again when I quit smoking), got another book published, landed an agent, and did lots of good things that made me appear to be a shiny happy person.  Along the way, I learned a few things.  Among them:

• No matter what I write here in this blog, someone's going to take offense.  And I will hear about it.
• I have the best friends in the world and they're scattered all over the world.  Russia, South Korea, Pittsburgh, Texas, California...There are even a few that I don't know where the hell they are, but they're my dear friends anyway. 
• It is possible to have a moment of true happiness, even it is a tiny one.  Those moments are what make life worth living. 

So, with that in mind, I figured I'd state a few goals for 2012 (provided the earth doesn't explode in some Mayan-predicted mishap, although that would be very entertaining).  Keep in mind, I feel the whole "New Year's Resolutions" thing just begs to have them broken.  That's why these are goals.  

• Lose weight.  Again.  I need to lose about sixty pounds.  And, here's the kicker, I want to do it by June.  I want to look good in my kilt for the next residency. 
• More publishing.  The third book in the Stanley Cooper Chronicles will be out, but I also want to expand into other areas.  (Remind me to tell you about my friends Sonny Redwood and William Strange.)  I would also love it if my agent sold the two novels of mine she's shopping around. 
• Write more.  Some people question what I mean when I say that because they know I'm ALWAYS working.  I have the disposition of a hermit much of the time because I'm always busy.  But there are more stories to be told. 
• Read more.  Always.
• Go to more conventions.  This year, I'm eyeballing Armadillocon and Austin Comic Con, but I'm open for any conventions a person wants to book me for.  
• Get into better health.  That kind of falls under the losing weight thing, but it's more that I need to be more healthy again.  I want to be around to see my grandkids, if I get any.  That's not a hint!  I don't want grandkids right now!  I'm only 40 for crying out loud!  
• Produce more.  That'll be interesting...More on that as it develops. 

So that's it.  Short list, right?  But, sitting here, in this chair, it feels almost insurmountable.  Almost.  One thing I can say:  I've never failed to reach a goal.  I just haven't.  It's not an option for me.  It's one of those things my Father instilled in me, a distinct lack of "quit."  So no matter what, I'll reach those goals.  

Now it's your turn.  What do you have planned for 2012?  Anything good?  Anything bad?  Leave it in the comments.  I'd be glad to hear from you. 

THE WINNERS ARE...

It took longer than I hoped, but I'm back to announce the winners of the Halloween photo contest!  We had so many entries that it took me this long to judge them all!

Not really.  We had a total of four entries, and the reason it took so long is I got snowed under at work.  But that's boring.

Because we had only four entries, I decided that there would be prizes for everyone.  All four entrants get a beaded bookmark from Monsters Under Glass, but the big winners get the books.  So, without further adeau, your winners are:

FIRST PLACE

Becca, with her entry of "Airship Mechanic!"

Runners Up

Jona with his "Michael Meyers" costume and Neighbor Bob with his Grim Reaper!

And finally, 

Special Runner Up

Technically, this contest was for humans, but I never specified.  Plus, I'm a sucker for fuzzies.  So the special runner-up prize goes to Meg's dog!  

Congratulations to all the winners, and thanks so much for sharing your Halloween with me!  I'll be putting your prizes in the mail soon, and I'll e-mail you once they're sent.  

Thanks again, and I'll see you next year!

CONTEST!!! READ THIS!

Psst...Hey...Wanna win signed copies of some of my books?  You can!  Really! I'm giving away signed books (and maybe a few surprises) to one lucky grand prize winner and two runner ups.

• GRAND PRIZE WINNER (1) - Will receive signed copies of Deadlands (my zombie novel), City of Demons (the first horror-noir novel I attempted), and PAGES:  Book Two of the Stanley Cooper Chronicles (which is book two...nevermind).  You will also receive a custom-made metal bookmark, hand-made by Tabby (my wife) over at Monsters Under Glass!
• RUNNERS-UP (2) - Two runners-up will each receive copies of Deadlands and City of Demons, plus a custom-made metal bookmark, courtesy of Monsters Under Glass.

So how do you win, you ask?  Easy.  

1. Follow me on TWITTER (@horrorscott).  If you already follow me, you're good!
2. Retweet the contest on TWITTER using this phrase:  "I want to win free books from @horrorscott and http://www.americanhorrorwriter.net"
3. Send me pictures of you in your Halloween costume.  

That's it.  Scary, sexy, cute, demented...I don't care.  Send me pictures of how YOU celebrate my favorite holiday!  Winning photos will be announced and displayed, so make sure it's a good (IN FOCUS) picture.  

Deadline for picture submissions is NOVEMBER FIRST.  Hard deadline there.  

Pictures can be sent to me at the special e-mail address I've set up just for this purpose:  

contest@americanhorrorwriter.net

Once the contest is over, that account goes bye-bye.  

Here are the official rules:  You win if I like yours the best.  Totally subjective, totally up to me...Just me looking at folks celebrating Halloween.  All entries must be in costume of some sort.  Racy costumes are welcome, but may be censored when I post them.  All photos may be posted online.  I reserve the right to disqualify anyone for any reason, but it's unlikely I'd do something like that.  That's it.  Get started!  I want to see the pictures! 

That Deep Dark Place...

It's a running theme, that I'm going to answer a great many of the frequently asked questions that writers like myself get.  Because I write horror, many of my characters turn out to be less than savory sorts.  Sociopaths, psychotics, human monsters, my work is filled with them.  And invariably, when I go to conventions, one of the most often asked questions is "How?"  How can I, who on the outside seems like a normal guy (let's not talk about the inside, okay folks?) with a friendly nature and a sense of humor, write someone so diseased and twisted?  How can I write a character who dissects his victims while they're alive and can feel it (like in City of Demons), or who enjoys using corpses as puppets while the rightful owner suffers?  And so convincingly?  And, the most frequent statement/question combo:  You look so normal...What's wrong with you?

Not a thing.  And everything.  Let me explain.

When a writer creates a character, we, like actors, need to understand their motivations.  We need to understand their points of view.  Very few people wake up in the morning and say "today, I'll be...*dramatic pause and fanfare* EVIL!"  Nope.  They go about their daily lives working to do what they feel is the right thing from their perspective.  And your perspective determines your reality.  Whether it's someone who kills because he believes it's for the greater good or because he gets a sexual thrill, he's doing what is right for him.  I know that's a hard thing to wrap your mind around.  I mean, how could a rapist really think that what he's doing is right?  In his mind, however, his victims might deserve it.  The people he tortures need the pain to get closer to God, or because it thrills him so much that it's similar to a drug rush.  Whatever the case, we writers need to examine the ugly side and bring it to the front.  But how?

Actors like Robert DeNiro and Dustin Hoffman are famous for being "method" actors.  They immerse themselves into their roles and, occasionally, have a hard time climbing out of them.  Many writers, myself included, go through a similar process.  We have to put ourselves in the mindset of the characters, no matter how diseased or horrible, in order to have that character make believable choices, and to make the character come off as more than a one-dimensional stereotype.  The killer from City of Demons, for example, killed because he genuinely felt that his actions would bring about the physical manifestation of his God, and that the people he murdered were the scum of the earth.  In his mind, their suffering brought them closer to God, and the more they suffered, the greater their chance at salvation.  He mutilated, skinned, and destroyed because he felt it was necessary, and that gave him a sense of joy at his work.  And how did I write him?

By visiting a very dark place in my imagination.

With characters like him, my first point of access is to see the act, then to determine why he did it.  In order to determine that, I have to put myself in his head and piece out the reasoning, just as he would.  And in the end, it becomes easy to see why someone like him would make the choices he did.  And it's terrifying, the moment when you catch yourself thinking "yeah, that's completely justified."  Because in doing so, you have to admit that there is a black spot on your soul that's dark as pitch and thick as a bog. You have to admit that, somewhere, deep inside you, darkness lives, breathes, and thrives.  Somewhere, within your Jeckyll, Hyde lurks and begs for a chance to get out and flex his muscles.  And, as a writer, it's your job to let him out to play every now and again.

I can't speak for every writer out there.  There are as many ways to write a book or character as there are books and characters.  All I can do is speak about my own methodology.  When I write a psycho, the reason he comes across as real is because he is.  Or at least, part of him is.  Once a long time ago, I had a psychiatrist stop working with me on the grounds that she was afraid of me.  I didn't take it as an insult, though I probably should have.  I took it to mean that my characters were visceral, authentic and just as nasty as they come.

So what about you?  What lives in the dark half of your soul?  Do you visit that part of yourself?  Are you afraid of what you'll find?  Leave a comment below, and write on.

Your Greatest Character is YOU.

It's not cheating.  I swear, it isn't.  Writers do it all the time.  Luminaries like John Carpenter have admitted to it.  Stephen King does it (where exactly do you think The Dark Half came from?), and so do so many other writers you've read.  You may not even realize it.  What I'm talking about is the age-old chestnut of basing a character off yourself.  Maybe the character's not really you.  Maybe he's a little taller, or a little quicker on his feet, but, let's face it, it's you.  The character is Superman to your Clark Kent, Batman to your Bruce Wayne, Snake Plisskin to your John Carpenter.  We all do it.  We take a premise and drop an idealized version of ourselves into it and think to ourselves "That's what I'd like to think I would do in that situation."

Here's a couple of examples from my own work:  My first book, An American Haunting, centered on the Rosewood Family, which consisted of Gabriel, wife Trish, and daughters Lizzy and Shannon.  What many didn't know was that Gabriel Rosewood was, in fact, me.  Trish was my wife, Tabby, and Lizzy (Elizabeth) and Shannon are my daughter's middle names.  The cat in the story, Bishop, was even patterned after my daughters great white hunk of useless fluff, Spot.  The characters were written using pieces of our personalities to fill them out.  Granted, as it was my first book, I had a lot to learn.  Years later, though, I used the technique again with the Stanley Cooper Chronicles.

Stanley is short, pudgy, with wild hair and a sarcastic attitude.  He's me.  No, I don't see dead people and I never died, but his reactions are mine, his physical description is mine, and his sense of humor is mine.  As are his faults and insecurities.  I gave him my life so he would come to life on the page.  Obviously, I'm not going about chasing South American rat demons, nor have I ever encountered a walking corpse. I do have a copy of the Necronomicon, but that's another story that has more to do with nerdiness than actual occult writings.  The point is, I created Stanley so I could live vicariously through him, like putting myself in an action movie.  And it serves a few purposes.  First, it allows me to live with the illusion that I could be that smart-ass unlikely hero if the chips were down.  Second, it gives me real insight as to who the character is.  But most important, it allows me to paint the character's emotions from a unique perspective:  Mine.  Because the feelings he has are ones that I've felt, I can mine my own experiences and pull things out that, admittedly, are hard to write about, but are effective.

So if you're reading this, I'm assuming you're a writer.  Otherwise, why on earth would you be reading my blog?  Which brings me to my real question and an assignment of sorts.  Question:  Have you ever based a character off of yourself?  Question the second:  Would you, in your own work, create a series or a story around said character?  Assignment:  Write yourself as a fiction character, and post about him/her in the comments section below.  Should be fun.  Might be interesting.  You also might learn something about yourself that you didn't know.

Until next time, WRITE ON!

SAJ

Most Frequently Asked Question: Where Do You Get Your Ideas?

It is, arguably, the single most frequently asked question to any writer, and one to which we all sit around and try to come up with canned answers so we won't just stare at the asker with a blank expression:  "Where do you get your ideas?" And, to be honest, it's a fair question.  Have you ever read the work of someone your really respect and wondered if there was some kind of alchemy at work for their genius?  We all have.  And the natural thing to do is ask.  Most writers, however, don't really have an answer.  We draw inspiration from so many sources that stating a definitive place is impossible.  Or, as is the case for some of us, we really do need psychological help.  But that's for another blog.   Here, then, is a partial list of things that give me demented ideas, people who inspire me, and the ways I see the world in general.

• The News - Yeah, it's a tried-and-true method.  You want horror beyond anything that most people would imagine?  Read a newspaper or watch the evening reports.  On any given day, you've got it all:  Murder, rape, atrocity, mutations, experiments.  And every drop of it is fodder for your creative writing.  Some of the most effective horror mirrors the world situation, and serves as a metaphor for the twisted crap that's going on in the world.  In some cases, it's a thinly-veiled attack on the things the author finds wrong.  In others, the veil is thicker. 
• Real Places - What do The Stanley Hotel, Wykehurst Place, the Winchester Mansion, Poveglia Island, and the LaLaurie House all have in common?  They're all real places with interesting histories (or at least interesting appearances) that inspired horror novels.  In the case of the last two, the real history of the places are more horrifying than anything Hollywood could come up with.  My first book, An American Haunting, was based on a real house in which I used to live.  Cane River:  A Ghost Story was actually inspired by my home town.  
• Family and Friends - I've said it before: If you've ever met me or come into contact with me in any way, chances are you're going to end up in one of my books.  And if I like you, I'll kill you in the most brutal way I can imagine.  You wouldn't believe how many times my brother's died in my books.  Or my friends.  Or my daughters' friends.  I draw on the interesting people in my life to help me build interesting characters.  In fact, I can honestly say that I'm lucky in that there are no boring people in my life.  And most of them get a kick over being killed off in a book.  
• My Twisted Perception - It's no secret that most of us writers look at the world in a different way than normal people.  It's why we're story-tellers.  In an introduction to my book City of Demons, award-winning author (and dear friend) Gary Braunbeck said about me: "This is a man who does not see the same world the rest of us do. I do not mean he sees the world differently than us – he sees a completely different world, and that mad sparkle in his eyes tells you that Scott Johnson is warped in the best of all possible ways – the embodiment of what Oscar Wilde called, “… the divine madness of absolute clarity." I take statements like that as a compliment, and it's true.  Take for example, when you see a little girl walking a huge dog down the street, most people think "that's cute... little girl walking a big dog."  My first thought is "Where's that dog taking that little girl?"  I constantly look for little things in the periphery that make me say "what if," and bring the world into a stranger state for me. 
• Inside Myself - One of the tricks to writing is putting yourself in your characters' places to see how they should react.  Which is fine and dandy if you're writing a normal person.  But that's boring, isn't it?  We (and I mean horror writers in particular, but others do as well) write about psychos, monsters, and madmen.  Do we put ourselves in their places?  I do.  I visit some very dark places in my own psyche when I write dark things, and sometimes it is disturbing to think that such thoughts came out of my head.  But then I pull myself back out and be myself again.  Call it "method writing," call it psychosis, it doesn't matter.  Actors do it all the time.  Why can't I?

There are so many other places and things that provide me with the creative ideas to keep writing horror. This list barely scratches the surface.  If I were to take the cop-out approach, then, yeah, I could say I get inspiration from everywhere.  But is it really a cop-out?  What do you think?  From where do you draw inspiration?  From where do you get ideas?

Enquiring minds want to know.
Write on!

Depression Redux

I read a report a while ago that stated the three professions with the highest incidence of clinical depression were actors, musicians, and writers (guess how many of those jobs I've held).  I think it's pretty easy to see why.  We're always craving approval, we all get rejected more than most people, and it's something we deal with every day.  For writers, depression has a one-two punch because writing is something we can (usually) only do alone.  It's a solitary activity, one that enables us to escape into our imaginary worlds.  But then we have to come back.  There are bills to pay, rejections to catalogue, etc.  Granted, for some people, depression is simply that, a feeling of being down. But for me, it's a little different.  I have a disease, a chemical imbalance, if you will.  My body is hardwired to make me feel like crap most of the time, and that's just something I have to learn to deal with.  It isn't something my parents did (hi mom!), or something anyone else caused, it's me.  And that doesn't make the feelings any less real or make me more of a whiny little emo-guy than the next person.  In fact, most people who meet me don't even know.  So what does it do?  For those who've never felt depression, I'll attempt to describe it. I'm a writer, so I should at least give it a try, right?

Imagine waking up every day in pain, secure in the knowledge that everyone around you only tolerates you, and that the world would be better off if you weren't around to take oxygen away from someone else who needed it.  Imagine the constant feeling that you are worth less than shit and that nothing you do is going to change it.  You've damned your children by being their father.  You've damned your spouse for being just charming enough to get her to marry you before she found out what a loser you really are.  You look at your insurance policy and try like hell to figure out a way to die that doesn't look like suicide because the policy doesn't cover it.  Anyone who tries to help, you're sure they being patronizing, so you snap at them.  You lock yourself away in your room and stare all day at the computer screen wishing for words that won't come because you're too embroiled in self-loathing and hatred and shame for anything worthwhile to come out of your fingertips.

Welcome to my world, or at least what used to be my world.   And I don't mean I had days that felt like that.  I meant I woke up in that state every day.

Don't worry...This isn't a "feel-sorry-for-Scott" pity party.  I'm not looking for pity because, frankly, I don't need it.  And, no, this isn't a "how I found Jesus" story either.

See, that used to be me.  You wouldn't believe how many times I sat in a chair trying to figure out a way to die because I knew, just knew, that I was worth more dead than alive, and my own death would cut my family free from the curse that was living with me.

Now look at your life.  Do you think you could go through your life like that?  Do you think you could keep all the hate and bile bottled up inside you because the people you love don't deserve to have it spilled on them?  Sure, we all have bad days, but every God-damned day?

I've told the story a few times, of how I came out from under depression, but for those who haven't heard it, there are two people in my circle who literally saved my life:  My wife and my oldest daughter (the youngest wasn't around yet, but I know she would've done the same thing).

I won't beat this dead horse into the ground by going into the grim and gruesome details, but my I can say this:  Anna saved my life with a hug and a kiss, and my wife made me more happy with who I was.

So what's the point?  Simply this:  Depression is a problem.  it's not something that can be solved by binge-eating, violence, overcompensating, a kick in the pants, sex, or any other thing that uninformed people think.  I love it when people say "he just needs a kick in the ass/to get laid/chocolate/beer" to pull someone out of the throws of actual depression.  What the person needs is love and understanding, and, most importantly, help.

If you, or someone you know, is having trouble, get help.  Contact someone who knows how to help, and get to them on hot feet.  Please believe me, no matter how bad it feels, no matter how worthless you think you are, and no matter how bad things are going, there's hope.  There's always hope.  There has to be.

Remember that to live is an awfully big adventure.

Leave your comments and keep your head up.

By the way, this article was inspired by this article over on Cracked.com.