Synchronicity

(This post is a both a present to myself and an early one for K., who shares with me certain beliefs Happy Birthdays!)

I wasn't certain what I wanted to do with my days off, though I knew I still wanted to take them even though we cancelled the overnight trip to Boston we booked months ago. Kim bought me exceptional seats for a bucket-list concert for my birthday, but the concert was postponed due to an illness in the band, and so I was left with a four-day weekend with no concrete plan. Earlier in the week I'd felt feverish and sick, so at the very least I could lounge around the house hydrating, writing, and maybe watch a movie or two. I'd been in bed by nine the last three nights after short spans of reading followed by some brief hunts on eBay. What better way to turn fifty?

Restlessness crept in, however, and I prefer my head to swelling with ideas instead of sinus pressure when I write, so I took a drive. First to the post office to initiate the process of renewing my passport--although I no longer have hair and a beard, I look younger in my new photo than in the one I took ten years and fifty pounds ago. Then to the bank and the dry cleaner; driving the short distance up a gray stretch of 395 I notice a very large owl sitting in one of the barren oak trees on a snow-covered slope rising up from the river a quarter mile from my exit. Afterwards I'll think it looked almost exactly like  Owl from the Disney Winnie-the-Pooh films, except with more spots, with the browns of his feathers more muted, and not smiling. Later still I'll realize it looked nothing at all like Owl from Winnie-the-Pooh but will remain convinced I actually saw it. After my errands, I drive south for an exit, get off the highway, and then return north in a big circle hoping to catch a second glimpse but no such luck. I head home, debating on going to the Book Barn to visit their Downtown location to check out the graphic novels, but decide against it because I was just there a week or so ago.

Whooo is that behind me?

(Photo by Linda Waters I never saw this owl)

I've been on a graphic novel kick lately, which probably has something to do with...turning fifty. The whole not-wanting-to-lose-touch-with-your-youth thing, the idea of wanting to stay in touch with that kid even though every last vestige of him has slid from the mirror even before I've picked up my razor. I don't imply that graphic novels or comic books are purely the providence of childhood or anything equally ignorant--if you are hoping for a rant against the newest Avengers trailer or Captain Marvel just move along--but from a personal perspective my love of comics came at a very early age, and I bought them all the way through high school and college, then quit for a few years when money was tight, and then used the birth of my kids as a great excuse to start buying them again, which we did until they lost interest in them. I never quit entirely, though, and there are times--the stressful times, the lost times, the times I feel like crap and want to stay in bed, where I want to read them even more. I finished reading the first volume of Kirby's Fourth World Omnibus when the sickness first started--talk about a gateway drug!

So I arrive home, play with the dogs, make some lunch, do the dishes, get the mail, play with the dogs some more. I decide I'll go downstairs and watch a movie, but before I do I check social media.

The very first thing in my feed is a tweet from the Book Barn (yes, I follow used book stores on Twitter. Other people follow Kardashians or Tucker Carlson. Sue me.) that says "We have a really nice lot of comics and graphic novels on the way Downtown"


What the hell, I think, and get in the car, and drive south. The weird thing is, I looked for three things on eBay the night before: the 2nd volume of Kirby's 4th World Omnibus, the 2nd volume of the Kamandi Omnibus, and the second Animal Man collection. None of those are exactly household names; comic book readers my age would be familiar with all of them, but I have no idea what the comic book readers who started in the nineties would know of them. So I was kind of surprised when I got to the Book Barn Downtown just as there were shelving the "nice lot" of graphic novels and the first thing I see on the table is the complete run of Animal Man graphic novels, beginning with the hardcover edition of the Animal Man Omnibus. I'd expected a bunch of X-Men and Batman stuff (and was not disappointed; see above) and probably some of the more well-known Marvel titles (again, see above) but not the primo HC  editions and off-beat titles (Xenozoic? Three volumes of the Marv Wolfman/Gene Colan Tomb of Dracula?,  so it was well-worth the trip.

So, synchronicity. Why was it I'd picked last night, after probably a decade of not thinking about Animal Man, to research Animal Man? And why is it that I put in "Make an Offer" bids on both the 4th World and Kamandi omnibuses last night (one shot down, one I'm still awaiting a reply on) but not on the much more affordable Animal Man volume two? Clearly, the universe wants me to read Animal Man (and The Uncanny Avengers, and that Fantastic Four stuff is that White Tiger oh yeah I heard the Human Torch flamed out), but why? Why did all of those tiny, butterfly wing-flap events occur in just that precise order to conspire to bring me to the Book Barn, part with some money, and depart with the above haul of books--books that had literally just been brought in, almost as though the universe had summoned them for me today, the ides of the ides of March, pie day, the fiftieth anniversary of my birth?

And why, upon returning home, do I see that a gift bag has been left on the front steps, a kind present from my mother-in-law, and that the gift bag contains four items...a card (with an owl on it), a bottle of wine, a gift certificate to a restaurant and a second gift certificate....
                                                        …..to the Book Barn?

Not so strange, you might say, if you are of a skeptical nature, as I usually am. It was a "nice lot" of graphic novels, after all, and the work of Grant Morrison is bound to show up somewhere in such a lot. His run on Animal Man was legendary (Brian Bolland covers!) and helped boost Vertigo's growing reputation and increasingly solid line; just because you've never seen it at the Book Barn doesn't mean there aren't thousands of copies sitting on the shelves of once passionate collectors in need of a serious downsizing. And the one thing you request from your mother-in-law for a gift is a Book Barn gift certificate. Although you protest otherwise, you are always checking social media, and so it was only a matter of time before you'd see some X tweet that eventually yielded a Y result. There's no magic here, there's no mystery. It's just some random stuff that happened on a Thursday you decided to keep as a vacation day even though the concert of a lifetime was cancelled. Turning fifty is just another day no matter how hard you try and inject some magic realism into the rather mundane proceedings. Sure, renewing the passport is a nice touch (the literal passport to adventure!), but dropping off the dry cleaning? For this you burned a precious vacation day?

Yes, for this. For this, and for the other pages I wrote earlier today, and those I will write tonight. And also for this large box of beautiful pictures and thrilling stories. I will end my "vacation day" with one of those books, propped up in bed, a glass of diet root beer on the nightstand beside me, and somehow I will feel not only a direct link with the eight year old boy who engaged in a similar way with different stories (albeit without the thick reading glasses I'll be peering through) and with the even older man who I will some day be who, if the universe continues to conspire, will still engage. in that way with even more stories. And in engaging, continue to create his own.

And in creating, will feel a direct link not only to those past, present, and future selves, but in all selves, in all things.

I can't wait.

Only $2.99 for kindle! Find it and my other stuff HERE

Secrets of Weight Loss--Revealed

Not Actual Size

The adventures of the Ketosis Kid have begun, as they have every January first or second for the past six years. I'm revealing my secret identity publicly for the first time, and why not? I was denied entrance into the Legion of Super-Heroes in favor of my old partner Matter-Eater Lad, but I can't say I blame them. Terrible Breath and Extreme Irritability aren't very spectacular super powers, especially as so many people share them. But I thought I'd record a few things for posterity in light of last years' epic battle (The Ketosis Kid vs. Oumuamu) which I won by (literally) the narrowest of margins.

Ouch.

My secret origin is quite simple; about six years ago, in a fit of self-loathing and disgust, I embarked on what I termed "The Austerity Diet" on January 2nd, which essentially was the result me taking an honest look at all of the foods and beverages I love and have a tendency to overindulge in and deciding I would not eat or drink any of those things until April first. I was already an avid (if ungainly) runner, good for ten to twenty miles a week, and a vegetarian,  so I figured these factors combined with jettisoning cheese, beer, bread, pasta, snacks, fun, joie de vivre, the will to live, etc. would have some weight loss benefits. More superstition than science, the Austerity Diet produced results (other than the aforementioned dragon breath and irritability) and not only had I reached my "target weight", I sailed past it by more than ten pounds. I lost exactly fifty pounds in four months (some of which were probably my brains and whatever my will to live weighs), or 22.8% of my total weight. The photo of me above is me at my lightest; I was so light that fourth graders could pick me up and toss me in the pond--which they often did. 

On April second I went back to eating and exercising normally, and over the course of the next eight months I would gain back a bunch of those pounds. So, convinced the Austerity Diet was the plan for me, I did it again the following year, but this time saying I would go back to my gluttonous ways as soon as I hit my target weight, which I would typically do by March 1st. As it is a well-known fact that February is an eternal enemy of the Ketosis kid, and I would not enjoy that hated month no matter what I did, I might as well pack it full of suffering. This was a good system and routine for many years.

Until 2018, where I kind did away with Austerity. Routines are dull! Self-denial is the hallmark of a boring life! I didn't fully eliminate all of the foods I was supposed to eat, and March 1 came and went and I hadn't hit my target. Probably because by then I wasn't really exercising like I had been for the past decade. Really, I'd been mailing it in since September 2017, logging only about ten miles a month on average when I had been clocking eighty-five to a hundred in those cruddy winter months. Whatever. Running is such a drag, though!Eh...life is short! Don't worry about it! Back to business as usual. 

But at the start of January, Oumuamua was growing--and moving--inside of me. 

Once Oumuamua was defeated on Sept. 18, I knew it would be a great deal of work to get back to where I was, in multiple aspects of my life. Time once again to become the Ketosis Kid! So after resting up for a few weeks after banishing Oumuamua, I started a regular running regimen again in mid-October, taking it easy to start. I also cut back on a few of the things that I knew would have to go once I went into full Austerity. I faced the new year fully primed to become the Ketosis Kid.

And guess what? In the three days of 2019, I've run over twenty miles, which is more than I ran in total in the months of Sept. '17, Dec. '17, Jan. '18, March '18, April '18, and May '18. It is more than almost any two of those months combined. Thankfully, I'm only about fifteen pounds off my target and I'm feeling great, so maybe I'll be able to quit before March 1st and enjoy part of the crappiest month of the year, February.

Many of want to lose weight and become better people (two desires which can be conjoined but are mutually exclusive more often than not). I go into this at length not to sell you on my particular weight loss plan, which is not fun after the first week, unscientific, and quite possibly unhealthy. It works for me, though...and therein lies my real point:

Find out what works for you, work on what works for you, test it constantly, give it up when it isn't working, but hold on for dear life once you realize it is. I hope it is obvious I'm not really talking about the weight loss thing here, I'm talking about the essential habits and routines that make you your most successful, fully realized version of you. Austerity wasn't the only beneficial habit I quit on last year, and it has taken me many months to rebuild. I can blame Oumuamua, but really, was Oumuamua the cause, or the effect? Either way, I will be better prepared if Oumuamua or one of its hideous alien minions reenters my orbit.

I'm apologize for roping you in, if that is what I did, with the false flag of weight loss promises. Burn more calories than you consume, I guess. Who knows.

With love, 

The Ketosis Kid

Aural History, Investing In Yourself, and Taking Risks

Buy Aural History HERE

Before I wrote Generation Dead, I wrote a novel about a college-age musician trying to make sense of life and art--and all of the ghosts haunting him. I hadn't yet developed the boss-level networking skills I would later in life (basically, I hid in my home office hoping that sunlight wouldn't touch me) and after a couple rejections I decided to self-publish the novel. This was before the days of kdp and CreateSpace, and I didn't realized that the "royalty" scheme was such that I would actually lose money if I sold a copy through a chain bookstore (I sold three, which nearly drove me to bankruptcy). I didn't know any better. I was proud of the novel and wanted people to read it, believing if they did it would lead to other writing opportunities. So I sank some money into the book and had them print off about forty copies, most of which I sold to family and friends, quite possibly testing the limits of their supportive natures. Even with their charity, I didn't come close to making my money back.

I held a few back for "marketing" purposes--a few I sent to publishers under the (then) mistaken belief that they would be wowed by how "serious" I was. Of those, I heard back from one publisher who didn't believe a "rock 'n' roll" novel, as she termed it, would sell but said she'd read something else when I was ready. Not much of a return on my total investment.

Flash forward a couple years. I've sold a couple short stories and have written a regular music column for pay. I've found gainful employment a job that has helped me develop some basic business skills beyond those in my previous retail-heavy background. I make the momentous decision to "leave the cave" and try and meet other writers and people in the industry. In a complete "jump and the net will appear" moment, I come across an advertisement for a new writing workshop sponsored by Borderlands Press. The instructors are three writers I had been reading and admiring for years--Thomas Monteleone, F. Paul Wilson, and David Morrell, and the fourth guest is editor/publisher (and now Stephen King collaborator) Richard Chizmar. I send in a writing sample and--for the hell of it--my second-to-last copy of Aural History. 

I was accepted into the workshop, called the Borderlands Bootcamp. Maybe my acceptance had something to do with Aural History, which a couple of the instructors read, and maybe it didn't. But one thing is absolutely clear--my attendance at the Borderlands Bootcamp directly led to my first book deal (I attended twice; the second time I workshopped the first chapter and outline of Generation Dead), becoming agented (on a referral from one of the instructors), and all of the changes in my life resulting from having attained my most dearly held goal, and doing so at a level exceeding all my dreams and expectations. Tugging on the narrative thread, none of that would have happened had I not at least written Aural History, and maybe it would not have happened if I hadn't also dropped some cash, taken the time, and taken the risks on my creative self. Tomorrow never knows. I have no regrets; I cherish every dollar I lost in the early self publishing venture.

A few months ago, a good friend who also is a great reader let me know his favorite book of mine is still Aural History, and asked me why I didn't publish it again. My first reaction was to laugh until I realized he wasn't kidding, and then I thought, why not? I love the book, he loves the book, and at least half of the thirty people or so on earth who've read seem to like it. I spent considerable time cleaning up many of my youthful mistakes (but not the cover, which I shot wanting to summon the "DIY" spirit haunting many favorites in my record collection) and have tricked OMZ Press into offering a kindle exclusive of the book on Amazon, where it retails for the thoroughly reasonable price of $4.99. It skews a shade older than my other books--my protagonist is post-college age as opposed to being in high school--but if you've read my other stuff, or are a fan of music, or art, or ghosts, I think you might like this one, too. 

I STILL SEE YOU Bonus Features

Look how happy I am!

The home theater editions of I Still See You, the film based on my novel Break My Heart 1,000 Times will be arriving just in time to help Santa stuff some stockings. Above you can see a very exclusive production still from one of the stellar bonus features, Break My Heart 1,000 Times: From Novel to Screen. Can you spot the grim, cadaverous specter lurking in the photo? If that little peek behind the curtain doesn't convince you that I Still See You is a horror movie, nothing will.

Break My Heart 1,000 Times

Speaking of horror, one of the most terrifying scenes that I had the pleasure of watching being shot did not make the final cut of the film; I'm not exaggerating when I say that the scene left me gasping in fright. I'm hoping that it is included in the Deleted Scenes reel that accompanies the home releases. HORRORNEWS.NET gives an excellent idea of what's to come HERE