Destroy the Brain

More headknocking goodness. Here's a teaser. Hope you enjoy.

I'll post a higher quality vimeo version later.

So much more to do. Replace the zombies with live action zombies. Which means, I'm gonna have to get some make-up going. I don't know shit about zombie make-up.

Don't even know where to start. Buy a mask, I guess.

CLICK HERE TO VIEW A HIGHER REZ VERSION ON VIMEO

Headknocking

I put on my director pants, last night. Man, it was fun.

With the help of Chris Cranford of Jones Productions, Duke Boyne and Allen Williams, we managed to get some awesome slow-motion footage of guys in motorcycle gear hitting shit against greenscreen for the book trailer of my novel, This Dark Earth, currently out at major publishers. I'm going to composite all this with blood spatter, courtesy of Video Copilot's Action Essentials library, distending zombie heads, paper textures, and graphic text elements.

I'm really excited about this project now. It's growing larger in my mind as we speak.

Those are the directors pants. They don't fit so good. Here I am telling Allen his motivation in this scene. "Kill zombies. Hit them in the head with the bat."

"But why aren't we shooting them?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because these zombies are blind and trigger on sound and smell. If you fire a gun, you'll just draw more of them. And ammunition doesn't grow on trees. It's a murderhole. It's industrialized extermination of the zombies. Cheap way to do that is baseball bats. Crowbars. Shit like that."

"Still seems stupid not to shoot them."

Sigh.

"That's not how we're filming this one."

"Are they fast zombies? Or slow?"

"Oh, for the love of...don't get started on that. They're fucking SLOW zombies! The classic fucking Romero zombie."

"Romero's zombies could see. And the survivors used guns."

"Just do the goddamned take before I beat you to death myself with this bat."

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There's so much to do, though. I have to find two skinny people, a male and female, willing to do multiple takes of shambling on the greenscreen. That way I can dupe them and make it look like there's hundreds. I also need to get multiple photos (or video) of grasping hands, and footage of gnashing teeth. I think.

A few stills of a trestle bridge like the one featured in This Dark Earth.

Okay. The project is definitely growing. But in a good way, I think.

Not gonna be finished next week, Stacia.

A little promo I threw together. It's looking a bit Mad Max-ish. Not that that's a bad thing, except for the Mel Gibson angle.

The Anatomy of a Murderhole

So, I used to work in the local film industry. I was creative director at a film and commercial development company. I worked on a bunch of local stuff and helped with the production side of a few national campaigns for the Army and Phillip Morris. I know. That's like saying, yeah, back in high-school I was chummy with Lucifer and Yog-Soggoth. We'd drink beer and shit.

Anyway, I've asked a few of my old coworker for favors, and they were kind enough to agree to them. So, Wednesday night, I'll have a green cyclorama wall, an HD camera, and my old, awesome friend Chris Cranford helping me shoot elements of a short called, "The Anatomy of a Murderhole." I think that's what it'll be called. Murderholes are areas, in this case on Bridge City (which you can learn more about here), where zombies are led to slaughter and then dumped in the river.

It's gonna be an animation/book trailer for my zombie novel THIS DARK EARTH. Here's the copy that my super agent, Stacia Decker, came up with to pitch it to editors. I think it's absolutely perfect.

So you survived the zombie uprising. Now what?

The land is contaminated, electronics are defunct, the ravenous undead remain, and life has fallen into a nasty and brutish state of nature. You need: food, water, weapons.

Welcome to Bridge City in what was once Arkansas—part medieval fortress, part Western outpost, and the precarious last chance for civilization.

A ten-year-old prodigy when the world ended, Gus is now at fourteen a battle-hardened young man. Gus designed Bridge City to protect the living few from the shamblers always at the gates. Now he’s being groomed by his physician mother, Lucy, and the gentle giant Knock-Out to become the next leader of men. But an army of slavers is on its way, and the war it wages for the city’s resources could mean the end of survival as we know it. Can Gus be humanity's savior? If he is, will it mean becoming a dictator, a martyr, or maybe something worse than even the zombies?

Grab a sturdy headknocker, strap on some Kevlar, and prepare to shape the future of humankind.

John Hornor Jacobs' dystopian vision THIS DARK EARTH is both a rousing adventure story and a thought-provoking meditation on the meaning of humanity, the nature of civilization, and the importance of a well-built murderhole.

I've got a couple of friends that are gonna be dressed up in full motorcycle gear - the Kevlar armor for doing the nasty, close up work in the murderholes. But I need some more bodies to shoot as zombies. And here, when I say "shoot" I mean solely with video.

Anyway, if you live in the Little Rock area and you want to do a little shambling, please contact me here.

NOTE: Okay, I'm focusing on the zombies here. I've resisted embracing the zombies because sometimes I can't believe that I've written a novel with them. However, I'd like to say in my defense, it's not a book about zombies. It's a book about how people deal with horrible situations. It's a book about the bonds of love between us all, and the human condition. It just happens to have zombies. That is all.

Portfolio

I've started a new portfolio blog. I know. Call the press. Sing it from the rooftops.

Still, it would be nice to get some freelance design work so I can start buying books again.

You can check it out here. All I've got up there now are print pieces, book covers, and a couple of animations I've done. More will come as I have time to post.

You can check it out here at http://bastardizedversion.tumblr.com/

Synaptic Misfires™

I'd like to take a moment to discuss apples. If you have kids, apples are a big part of your lives. Sliced apples, apple juice, apple sauce, apple pie, apple fritters. Peanut butter on apples. Stewed apples. Apple butter. Apple cider. Caramel apples. I could go on forever.

Kids and apples. They go together.

But I've come to realize, I don't love all kinds of apples. My kids are partial to Granny Smith's, which I find too tart. Red Delicious apples are waxy and tasteless. For my money, I like a Fuji apple. They brown quicker, but damn, their flesh is porous and sweet.

Golden apples of the sun.

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The shorter the nap, the more refreshing.

I think this is a truth, however, I need to do far more research. Daily and consistent research over the next 40 years.

I doubt my employers will be on board for that, though.

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Been listening to a lot of movie soundtracks lately, as I write. Low volume, faint in the background. I've been enjoying it but I've found that my writing is too saccharine when listening to Harry Potter, too bombastic when listening to Indiana Jones, and my dialogue sucks when listening to Star Wars.

When I listen to Fargo?

Just right. I just have to go in afterwards and delete all the "Yahs".

Go figure.

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I drove to work this morning holding an over-ripe tomato in my hand and my head full of the image of hurling it into oncoming traffic.

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I have this memory of a fishing trip with my dad, but over the years I had convinced myself that I imagined it, or that he had told me the story of himself as a boy and I had placed myself in it, creating a false memory.

But I had dinner with them last night, and we talked about it.

In the seventies to early eighties, my dad had a house boat on the White River. The "houseboat" was really just a small trailer home on massive styrofoam blocks. It was moored in Jack's Bay, Arkansas. It had bunkbeds, a kitchenette, a TV and two 12,000 btu air-conditioning units that made it absolutely frigid. I'm talking height of summer get under blankets and shiver. Its name was Fat City and it was totally immobile, moored to the banks.

Jack's Bay was close to a lot of great fishing lakes, so we'd motor out on the lower White, go to the point in the bank closest to the nearest lake, and hike through deep woods, my father porting a massive outboard motor the half-mile to the lake, hiking back to the river to retrieve our cooler and gas. And then back one last time to drag the flatbottom through the brush and mud to the lake. I'd carry the lighter stuff. I remember, at 10 years old, being quite worn out by the time we ever made the first cast. I can't imagine how my dad felt. God, he was massively strong, then.

We fished all day in this lake, caught some bass and bream, and my father had shown me how to hook alligator gar - by casting over them with a diving treble hook lure, like a classic Rapalla, and then as you reel it in and get close to the gar, which usually stays on the surface, you give a sharp yank. The lure dives and embeds its prongs into the fish.

Here's the point where I questioned my own memory. We were paddling back to shore at the end of the day and I noticed something coming towards us in the water. At first I thought it was a beaver, or even an otter. When it got closer I said, "Dad, there's a dog swimming across the lake."

My dad kinda jerked around, peered at the swimming dog, and shook his head but said nothing. He reeled in his line and picked up a paddle.

As it got closer, I said, "What's a dog doing out here?"

"That's not a dog."

I looked at it closer - at that point it was only about twenty feet away. It was a bear. A small brown bear. However, it was large enough to tump our boat and fuck us up, real good, I think, if it had wanted to. Which is why my dad snatched up the paddle, I guess. After seeing my dad porting all that heavy stuff over to the lake, I was a little more worried for the bear than my dad, honestly. Your father looms large in you mind as a child.

Once the bear got close enough to us to see we were a pair of the fearsome naked ape, the most deadly of all creatures, it made a drastic turn and swam off.

We watched it until it reached the shore and disappeared into the thick, deep woods.

"Was that a bear, dad?"

"Yep," he smiled and put down the paddle. "That was a bear. You want a Coke?"

Strange. I never expected to see a bear in the not-so-wilds of Arkansas. Last night, I reconstructed this memory with my dad because I feared I had made it up in the intervening years.

Nope. I didn't make it up.

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It began raining last night, ending, for a while, 105+ degree temperatures. Damn, that's really too hot.

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Ironically, Fat City burned down. Another house boat caught fire, its mooring snapped, and then it drifted into Fat City, burning it to a cinder. Luckily, no one was on board our house boat except numerous wasp nests and a family of mice. The water moccasin that lived on top of one of the styrofoam blocks smelled the smoke and had the presence of mind to slither into the water before things got too toasty.

Fat City. Gone but not forgotten.

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I have no other news to report. No acceptances. No big deals. And the rejections I've received, I'll keep that info private, thank you very much.

Have a good week, be kind to yourselves, and others, and remember to spay and neuter your cats and dogs.

Adios, muchachos y muchachas.

What I Did Last Weekend

Watched TV. What with my ankle all gimped up, I spent the weekend on the couch or in bed. Here's what I watched.

Zombieland - Netflix Streaming.
Great movie, funny, well done. Some online folks said that the 3rd act needed work, but I didn't see it. Either Jesse Eisenberg is ripping off Michael Cera or vice versa. Woody Harrelson is genius, along with Bill Murray. The girls are cute and well done. Writing is tippy top. Why does it work? Because it's a zombie movie with very few zombies, allowing us to focus on characters. Sound familiar?

Session 9 - Netflix Streaming.
My friend, author Brandon Barker, recommended this title a long time ago and I just got around to seeing it. On the downside, it has David Caruso. On the upside, it was before Caruso became Horatio Caine, he of the horrible posture and worse one-liners. The movie was really atmospheric and creepy. The tension, while not unbearable, was at least taut, like Tawny Kitaen's buttocks in the 80's. Good movie.

YEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Animals - Netflix Streaming.
This movie was based off a novel by John Skipp and Craig Spector. I've heard a lot about this duo's writing - they are supposedly the fathers of splatterpunk. This movie did not make me want to see or read anything else by either of them. But the movie did have PROS and CONS. Sorry. One PRO and innumerable CONS. On the upside, this chick from Supernatural is in it and she takes her kit off. On the downside, the script, the acting, the art direction, the casting (other than her), and really every thing else about the movie. Total waste of time, bandwidth, electricity, breath.

Archer: Season 1 - Netflix Streaming
Well, Arrested Development is over and this show has Julie Walters and Jeffrey Tambor in recurring characters. It's like AD mashed up with James Bond. And it's animated. The quirky characters and the bizarre situations they get in are amusing. But Arrested Development, it ain't. That hole in my heart has yet to be filled.

Note, I watched maybe the last 6 episodes. I'd seen the first part earlier. Just so you don't think I bent time, traveled through a wormhole to get all of these things watched.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo - Netflix Streaming
I can understand why some folks don't like TGWTDT because of its moribund pacing. However, I have an attention span greater than an otter and I really loved this movie. I appreciate movies with slow builds - I number In the Bedroom one of my favorites - because the endings become inexorable and massive, pregnant with dread. Just my opinion, all you Larsson haters.

Anyway, I liked Let the Right One In, too. However, there were moments, in both movies, I couldn't help thinking of this.

Bork, bork!

Legion - XBox 360 rental
Angels are like demons and zombies, mixed together. The guy who gets to sleep with Jennifer Connolly is an ass-kicking archangel Michael (strangely with an in-depth knowledge of automatic weapons) rebelling against God's orders, namely to exterminate mankind, a la the great flood, but this time with zombie angels. Or angel zombies. Or whatever.

Plus there's an unborn baby that is the messiah, I think. None of the movie made much sense. Bah. I sat through it, mildly entertained, hoping that the baby would turn out to be the anti-christ and for good old Scratch to make an appearance. But I was gypped. My apologies to all you of gypsy extraction.

Wendig asked me if it was a total waste of two hours. No, it wasn't. The possessed granny made me laugh and clap my hands like a mongoloid idiot. But when the angels started fighting, I was ready for the apocalypse. My apologies to all you Mongols. And idiots.

The Woods - Netflix Streaming
This movie was about 2ooo times better than Legion. It's about a troubled teen sent to an all girl school in the sixties. There's some strange goings on. That's all I'm going to say. You should watch this one.

Patricia Clarkson and Bruce Campbell fill out the cast, plus the hottie young actress.

Despicable Me - Rave Theater, 3d
Ok, the 3d thing. All of the 3d haters have most likely never sat in a darkened theater with a 7 year old who insists on grasping for objects on the screen and squealing in delight. Do I think the new 3d technology would make Howard's End or Schindler's List better movies? No, I do not. But adventure, SF, horror, or a kid's movie? Why, yes, I totally endorse 3d in these kinds of flicks.

War movies? No. Show some damned respect. Porno? Eww. No 3d there, either, thank you.

Anyway, Despicable Me was about what you'd expect. Super villain is not really so super. Beleaguered by new competition. Adopts some kids - for a dastardly plan - but things go awry and the kids warm the cockles of his heart. Third act? Loses kids, comes to realize he loves them, fights to get them back.

Funny gimmicks. The big draw for me on this one was watching with the kids. They loved it and that made it all worthwhile.

Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief - XBox 360 Rental
My kids liked it. I was kinda pissed at the image quality - I ordered 480p - but the damn file was full of artifacts and jaggies. I kept finding myself getting pissed off at the image quality.

Anyway, Percy is the son of Poseidon. While we were watching the movie, I informed my daughters that if they ever brought a boy home with a haircut like that, I'd shave his head. So, thanks to Percy Jackson for completing my transformation into my father.

Right, he's the son of Poseidon. But it's modern day. Pierce Brosnan has a beard. Sean Bean is Zeus.

The characters run around thwarted by various mythological creatures, at least those relating to Perseus. Get it? Percy? Perseus? Yeah.

I'm gonna write a book called Odie and the Pantheon: Bloody Homecoming. Wait till you see the Scylla and Charbydis scenes. And the ladies of Nausica.

100 Feet - Netflix Streaming
Famke Janssen might be getting a tad long in tooth, but she's still purty. In 100 Feet, she plays an abused wife who kills her husband, a cop, and after a stint in prison is relegated to a year in home arrest. In the NY house they shared together.

Unfortunately, the house is haunted by the ghost of her abusive husband.

I was surprised at how well done this movie was. A couple of times it made me jump. And there's some very brutal ghostly ass-whomping at the end. The writers missed a golden opportunity regarding some dirty money Famke finds hidden in the house, which was unfortunate.

Unfortunately, Famke doesn't get naked. Still, it's a decent movie.

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That is all.

Check it out.

Cheers

The Cold Kiss

Today is the day that The Cold Kiss, by John Rector, goes on sale. I'm suggesting you stop what you're doing, go to B&N or surf over to Amazon or your preferred online purveyor of books and order a copy.

I feel a special connection to this book, not because of the flawless writing and taut plot. Not because of the stripped-down yet elegant prose, or the sympathetic and believable characters. Not because of the drop-dead perfect dialogue nor the elation of the ending.

No. I feel connected to this book because I've been watching the trials and tribulations of bringing a manuscript to publication - chatting over them, with the author, on a regular basis - so that I feel a modicum of investment in this novel.

Everything I know about publishing I learned from John Rector. He's been kind enough to share with me the long, painful journey to publication, step by step. And believe me, it was a long one.

It's a story better left to John himself. Read an account of it here, at Do Some Damage.

But if you want a great summer read, you can't go amiss with The Cold Kiss. It's a page-turner of a thriller, perfect for the beach, or the pool. Just block out enough time on your schedule - it's hard to put down.

Highly recommended.

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All Nate and Sara want is a new life in a new town, away from the crime and poverty of their past. So, after being approached at a roadside diner by a man offering $500 for a ride to Omaha, they wonder if their luck might be changing.

At first it seems like easy money, but within a few hours the man is dead.

Now, forced off the road by a blizzard and trapped in a run-down motel on the side of a deserted highway, Nate and Sara begin to uncover the man's secrets. Who he was, how he died, and most importantly, why he was carrying two million dollars in his suitcase.

Before they know it, Nate and Sara are fighting for their lives, and in the end, each has to decide just how far they are willing to go to survive.

The Cold Kiss is an everyman psychological thriller that pits a young couple against moral corruption, greed, betrayal, and love. More simply, for two characters who may have used up all their chances, it's the classic final trip down the dark tunnel that might lead to heaven, but drags them through hell. This is A Simple Plan meets The Getaway, with a pulse-pounding plot and a twist ending. John Rector is name that all thriller fans will come to know and love for years to come.

GET IT AT AMAZON HERE!

To learn more about John Rector and his forthcoming novels, you can visit his website and blog HERE.

Synaptic Misfires™

Looks like my last post caused some consternation to a certain rocker or one of his rabid fans (I'm still a fan, but a bit less rabid). I'm betting it was the rocker. Anyway, the inimitable Dan O'Shea - the man who can write a novel in fifteen minutes - has issued this flash fiction challenge in honor of our Anonymous poster, humorously titled "The Spiderman-PJ-wearing, Mommy’s-basement-dwelling, Anime-porn-binging Dweeb Flash Fiction Challenge". Go there. See the creative ways he misspells my name.

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I wrote a blog post about e-books and indulged myself in a little windbaggery. However, Chuck Wendig read my post, took it, deconstructed it, made a fort from the pieces, and then put it all back together in a more intelligent and pointed take on the status of the publishing industry as it relates to e-books and the new electronic frontier. I suggest you go to his site, and read his take on the matter. And see the creative ways he misspells my name.

Plus, he's got a lot of really smart, insightful readers who offer great commentary as well.

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Anonymous brings up the fact that I talk about weight loss and stuff. An Operation Striking Walrus update might be in order - I've lost 20 pounds in 90 days. Lost 2 inches in the waist and 4 in the chest, 4 across the belly, but gained an inch in upper arm. I can do 45 push-ups (though not consecutively, but within a 30 minute period). I know how to do the Downward Dog, the Upward Dog, Plank, Cobra, Crescent, and the Dirty Sanchez.

I am, underneath the remaining 2-inch layer of fat, a ripped fuck-beast.

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I once broke a guys balls over watching TV and writing. I said, then, that if you watch more than three hours of TV a night, you're probably never gonna be a writer, unless you don't have a dayjob.

I'm gonna stand by that. You see, I've discovered Arrested Development, and my current WIP has totally stalled out.

The good news is that there are only three seasons of Arrested Development. The bad news is there are only three seasons of Arrested Development.

I don't know how I'll live without my nightly 3 hours of Michael, George Micheael, G.O.B., Tobias, Lucille (both 1 and 2), Buster, and George Senior.

Plus all the others.

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Fourth of July weekend is here. This means for me, fishing, blackberry picking, sweating buckets, and swimming. Not in that order.

I'll probably have to work in some drinking and fireworks in there as well.

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Meanwhile, Steve Weddle is like a digital blog-based super-spy. He knows where you live, plus your entry and exit pages, your browser and operating system. And don't forget your IP.

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This isn't the face of a douche-bag, is it? I got that tan honestly, through fishing and swimming with my kids.

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I love flame wars. On Tuesday, I'll tell you about one I had with John Rector, author of THE COLD KISS, due to be released on...well...Tuesday, July 6th.

What a great book. He's okay, too. But don't fuck with him.

He'll kill you.

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I'm going to tell you guys a secret. A sushi-secret.

Don't go into a sushi restaurant and order sashimi a la cart. Order Chirashi. It looks like this.
Underneath all that sashimi is a bed of rice covered in scrumptious roe. In my town, you get it for anywhere between $15 and $20. It's the best sushi deal around.

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Supposedly, there's a guy named Don Draper, which reminds me of Tobias Funke's portmanteau of Analyst and Therapist. Analrapist.

Anyway, never heard of him until Anonymous mentioned him and I had to Google him. I've heard of Mad Men but never watched it. The writing thing. The day job thing. Busted balls? Remember?

Anyway, I had heard (and seen pictures of) this woman, who also stars on the show.

Wow. I mean. Wow.