TV’s Survivorman to chase Bigfoot with Calgary believer
This one was too good to pass up. Now, I’m not a big Survivor Man fan, but this is a good way to make me one! Again, big thanks to Scott for bringing this to my attention.
The Joy of Deadlines
Whether you hate them or not, if you’re crazy enough to make it a go of this whole writer thing, deadlines are going to be a part of your life. I’ve heard people say they work better with a deadline – the sound of that little clock ticking lights their creative fire. Others lament that the pressure of a deadline drives them down Writer’s Block Lane, sometimes with a short stop at Xanax Drive.
In my experience, every writer vacillates between embracing and running from deadlines. It depends on your mood, the project (horror writer takes on romance novel for single grannies – wtf???), what’s happening in your life at the moment and – here’s an important one – the money. I’m not saying that money makes it easier. Heck no. Sometimes, the carrot of a big advance can cause temporary paralysis. Other times, you want to put that pool in and that advance will pay for it and the party to christen it, so watch those fingers fly!
So, what do you do when a deadline looms and you can’t get the words from your brainpan to the keyboard? Unfortunately, there’s no magic pill. I’m sure Pfizer is working on one, but we’re years from it hitting the market place.
All I can offer is my own experience. One thing I’ve done over the past few years is to set a personal deadline for everything I write, whether an editor has a set expectation or not. This way, I’m training myself to write both with a purpose and a plan.
Here’s an example. It’s May 1st and I’m about to start my new novel. Now, my editor has only asked that I send something to him any time in the next year. Well, if I want to build my brand, I can’t rest on my laurels. I have to write a couple of novels and some short stories and maybe even a novella for good measure within that year. Oh, and I have my day job that requires most of my time and my family.
If I didn’t set deadlines for myself, I’d be sunk. So, on May 1st, I estimate that my book will be about 90,000 words. I figure 4 months is a good amount of time to get ‘er done. In my mind, the book has to be complete on September 1st. I want to get that first draft finished by mid July so I have time to show it to my first readers and do several rounds of edits. That means I have about 75 days to write my first draft.
If I do 1,000 words a day on weekdays, and 2,000 on weekends, I’ll cruise on in to my deadline. Then I have to take into account days when life just prevents my ass from sitting down and writing. Well, I’ll make up those words with a week of 1,500 words or maybe cram 5,000 on a Saturday.
The key is that through the entire process, I know exactly where I am, where I need to be, and what needs to be done each day to make it. You have to factor in situations that will throw a monkey wrench in the works. Shit happens. You’ll be fine as long as you’re planning ahead how to get back on track without adding more gray to your scalp.
It’s vital to remember that you’re in control. Writing is more than just something you’ve chosen to do – it’s something you love to do. Always, and I mean always, strive to have fun.
And repeat after me. Deadlines shmeadlines.
What’s been your experience with deadlines? What are some of the tricks you use to get over the hump? Inquiring writers want to know! I’ll give a free e-copy of my book, Sinister Entity, to a random person who comments about their deadline joy.
Don’t Mess With Nessie : My Love Affair With Loch Ness
See that picture? That was my first foray into the wonderful and weird world of cryptozoology at a time when I didn’t even know what the word meant. I was about 8 years old and at the tail end of my fascination with whales. I’d read everything the library had about them and was ready for something new.
Enter Nessie. I can’t remember where I first saw that picture. It was either on In Search Of or in a magazine or newspaper. I just remember the doors of my imagination being blown wide open. I would never be the same. Back in the 70s, there was a lot of interest in the strange creature swimming the depths of Loch Ness in Scotland. It was relatively easy to get my hands on all things Nessie. I devoured it all.
My father saw my budding interest in mythical sea creatures and bought me a book not only about the Loch Ness Monster, but all creatures bizarre and unknown. And so was laid an integral part of the foundation of a future Monster Man.
Out of all the cryptids out there, I think the case for sea creatures is the most solid. We know so little about the pitch fathoms of our seas. As our underwater technology improves, we discover new species of creatures plumbing the depths on an almost daily basis. Personally, I don’t think Nessie lives in the Loch. It’s my belief that if she exists, she kinda gets lost from time to time, slipping from the cold ocean into the Loch for a spell, stirring peoples’ fascination. And in a world where there’s so much doom and gloom, isn’t that a good thing?
So, what is Nessie? Is she a plesiosaur, a remnant from the time of the dinosaurs? Maybe she’s some kind of super sized eel, or a misindentified family of seals? Thanks to my man Scott for this latest article that says sightings of the monster skimming the waters is nothing but the result of a geological phenomenon.
Like all mysterious beasts, I really hope there is some truth to the Loch Ness Monster. Even though the photo that cemented my interest as a child was proven to be a hoax, I still hold out hope.
Like this blog post was too long coming, so is our latest episode of the Monster Men where we talk all things Loch Ness. Can’t believe it took us over 40 episodes to get the the core of my monsterhood. Sit back, put on a kilt, pop open a bottle of good Scotch and enjoy.
Jonathan Janz Guest Post : The Genesis of a Savage Species Character
I am so happy to lease the space on this blog and chain to one of my favorite authors, Jonathan Janz. He has a serialized horror novel that just came out and let me tell you, this is one not to be missed! And in this case, you can judge a book by its cover(s). Totally kick ass. I’ll stop rambling and let Senor Janz take the stage.
How My Inappropriate College Friend Finally Came in Handy
The Genesis of a Savage Species Character
I had a friend in college we’ll call Teddy. Okay, maybe he was more of an acquaintance, but we had a couple classes together, and I thought he was a funny guy. Short, pudgy, prematurely balding, Teddy was smart, very nice, and in most ways ordinary.
Until he got near a pretty girl.
Then, under his breath, he would say things in this creepy Barry White voice like, “Ohhhhh, yeah. She knows it. Uh-huh. She loooooooooves it.” And I would stare at him in terror and take several large steps away so no one would think we were together.
I haven’t used that part of Teddy’s personality in a story yet, but at some point I’m sure I will. It’s too funny and offensive not to use.
But part of Teddy did indeed make its way into my latest novel, the serialized Savage Species. Teddy enjoyed a very specific type of…um…movie. No, not the kind a person would watch in a trench coat and sunglasses, but not the type of film you’d watch with your mother either. 
No, these films were the ones shown late at night on Showtime and Cinemax (or, as Teddy called it, Skinemax). Not only was he a fan of these movies, he would go into great detail when discussing them, throwing around names like Monique Parent and Shannon Tweed the way most moviegoers would reference Morgan Freeman and Meryl Streep. Actually, it was sort of hilarious hearing him soliloquize about his unique obsession, unless of course we were walking to class or something, and in that case I again moved several steps ahead of him so folks didn’t think we were together.
I bring all this up because there’s a great character in Savage Species named Frank Red Elk. He’s a Native American of the Algonquian tribe. He’s a big, powerful man with a great deal of intelligence. He’s also a huge fan of soft porn.
So when you read about Frank Red Elk and blush at the things he says, you can know that my inappropriate college friend had something to do with that.
But hey, at least the embarrassment I endured because of Teddy was worth it.
Sort of.
World War Z – Helping Us Catch Up On Our Z’s
In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit that I was one of the few people who didn’t particularly like Max Brooks’ breakout novel, World War Z. Like I hope that I’ve made it impossible for my wife to find other men to measure up to me, just about everything in the zombie pantheon has fallen shy of the original Dawn of the Dead for me. Everything that was right with DOTD was wrong with WWZ. More on that in a moment.
I’d heard that there were all kinds of productions issues with WWZ and if memory serves correct, this should have come out a lot sooner. Sometimes strife on a move set leads to greatness, like Predator (a movie that was said to have more issues than a NYC newsstand). But most times, chaos behind the scenes transforms into chaos on the screen. It’s very easy to see that WWZ had a lot of bad shit go down between the star and producer, Brad Pitt, and everyone else connected with the film.
I’m going to summarize WWZ quite easily. It’s a series of chase scenes that carry Brad Pitt from the US, to Africa, Israel and Wales. Brad goes somewhere, soulless zombies appear, Brad runs. He survives so many impossible situations, I was beginning to think he was Daffy Duck. And for a guy who was in 90% of the scenes, he said about 20 words.
It was like watching a 2 hour car chase, which gets very boring after a while. Unlike Dawn of the Dead, there are no real personalities here, either on the living or the dead side. There’s no one to connect to here. At one point, I was rooting for an asteroid to slam the earth and put everyone out of their misery. Like the zombies, the script has no pulse, no heart, nada.
The only cool part, for me, was the way the zombies, perhaps the fastest and angriest since 28 Weeks Later, piled atop one another to scale any height just to get at human flesh. So, I got two scenes that raised my adrenaline level up a tick, and then I was rocked to sleep until the end credits.
And here’s something else that blew my mind – here we are with a zombie flick on an epic scale and there is almost no blood, certainly no gore! What the hell? Was this intentionally made for grade school kids?
Guess I’ll have to wait for the new season of The Walking Dead to get a real zombies fix, and that’s a show I think we’ll look back at and try to pinpoint exactly where in season 3 it jumped the shark.
Anyone else plunk down their hard earned cash for World War Z? Feel free to tell me I’m a small minded elitist a-hole or that you agree with me. I can take it. 🙂
Dying To Meet You
This article first appeared on Jonathan Janz’s awesome website.
As you read this, know that I’m one day closer to my death.
I’m dying, little by little, day by day.
Then again, so are you. It’s as inevitable as death in Texas. Or something with taxes. Or Wesley Snipes.
Of all the uncertainties that we face in our lives, from wondering where you’ll get your next job to hoping that cute girl in accounting won’t call HR if you ask her out, there is only one thing that’s a surefire, foregone conclusion. We’re all going tits-up one day.
When the 2012 mania was in full swing and I talked to people who actually believed that the world was going to end, I told them I looked forward to the apocalypse. You see, with my way of thinking, it’s better to slip off this plane with billions of people than alone while mowing my lawn. I honestly felt that some of these folks wanted the Mayans to be right. My New Year’s vow was to spend less time talking to them.
I’m amazed by how little we devote to contemplating our death. I used to study with a Buddhist monk. I’ve never been more relaxed in my life than when I was in his presence. He once gave me a meditation contemplative to use and I’ll never forget it. As I let my breathing flow, I would say, over and over, “I could die today.” It was really powerful and took my mind to some strange, but enlightening places.
Most people want to live while they’re alive because there’s plenty of time to think about death when you’re shaking hands with rigor mortis. Me, I have to know more. I want to see what’s waiting for us on the other side. I’m loving life, but I’m damn interested in what happens when life has played itself out. Ballgame over. Or is it?
This explains my fascination with ghosts. Of all the supernatural experiences recorded throughout human history, none is more prevalent and far reaching as sightings of ghosts, or spirits, or phantoms. What are they? Who are they? Are they proof of an afterlife, or an extension of the untapped powers of the living mind? Or glimpses of very much alive people caught in an inter-dimensional slip?
I don’t know. I’ve seen ghosts. We have one living in our house. He’s as much a part of the family as our vindictive cat. But I have no idea what he actually is. I just know that he shows up from time to time, only scaring my wife once when he wouldn’t let her pass by him in the kitchen. It’s creepy when you say it out loud, but when you live it, you get used to it. He’s far less annoying than my neighbors who think 10:00 at night is a great time to start a house party that will go on until the sun comes up – or the cops arrive.
So, I write about ghosts. I get invited to come to haunted places. I’ll even tag along with a professional paranormal team this year. Maybe I’ll find my answers. Maybe I’ll just find more questions. And maybe my neighbors will move. Dare to dream.
My latest novel, Sinister Entity, is, naturally, about ghosts. Or more specifically, about a 19 year old ghost hunter named Jessica who’s taken up the family business and still has a lot to learn. If you’re into ghosts, poltergeists and doppelgangers, take the plunge. Jessica’s quest is very much my own. She’s just a hell of a lot cooler than me.
Trying To Stay Alive in Club NightWhere
Holy shit!
I can’t count how many times I said those two words as I read John Everson’s Bram Stoker nominated novel, NightWhere. Now, I’m a guy who’s been around the block a time or two (or a thousand), and it takes a lot to make me cringe or jar my hardened sensibilities. As I delved deeper into Everson’s latest terror-tinged, super-sexed novel of BDSM gone horribly awry, I was tempted more than once to cover my eyes and read between the gaps in my fingers. It’s that unsettling. And yes, it’s that damn good.
I know this phrase has been used to death, but NightWhere is not for the faint of heart. If you’re a prude, run like hell in the other direction. This ain’t for you.
Rae and Mark are a happily married couple who have a little something going on the side. You see, Rae is an untamable woman, and no matter how much she loves Mark, well, I’ll be blunt, one dick just isn’t going to do it for her. And Mark, he’s a decent guy who loves his wife and will do anything he can to keep her. Plus he gets the side benefit of coupling with attractive women as they go from one swingers club to the next.
But Rae has an even darker side. The girl loves pain. Both giving it and receiving it in ways that’ll make you lose your lunch. Enter the mysterious club, NightWhere. In NightWhere, your darkest desires can come true. Wanna screw someone until they’re dead? Step right up. Does it turn you on to get flayed open like a fish? Well, we have a special room for you.
As Rae loses herself to her wonton and dangerous lust, Mark desperately tries to save her from the clutches of the club as well as her own damnation.
If one could truly glimpse hell within the pages of a book, this is it. The writing is crisp and fierce and totally unforgiving. You won’t be able to put it down, no matter how damaged your soul may be when you’re done.
Thank You, Dad
One week ago today, I lost my father.
It was sudden, completely unexpected, and awful to witness. There are images that will haunt me for the rest of my life; sights and sounds and smells that will always bring back what was the worst week of my life.
But there was also comfort, by friends and family, priests and even strangers. And what comforts me most of all, other than my faith that my father and friend, a good man in a world that is sorely in need of them, is in a wonderful place right now. He left this world with no loose ends. His was a good life, a happy life. He passed away knowing his family was strong, there were no quarrels, and successful and content. If ever a person could leave this world with a sense of closure, it was him.
There are little things that upset me, small closures that will never happen that seem trivial but trouble me when I think about them. Before he died, he talked to me glowingly about Dennis Lehane’s new novel and how incredible the last half was. When I picked up the book, I noticed the bookmark was placed 6 pages before the end. We had also talked about his finally watching the season finale of Bates Motel, a show he and I both got into this spring. He never got the chance to see how it ended. I wanted to take him with me to a horror convention in the fall so he could see with his own eyes all of the things he instilled in me come to fruition as a writer. We played bocce and looked forward to many, many games together, sharing a drink and a laugh as we played with or against one another. Out of all the things we’ve done over our adult years, those games mean the most to me. It’s where he became as much my friend as my father.
What I want to do is thank him for all the things he did over the course of my life. He’d just turned 70 in April and I’m not usually a mushy card writer, but this time around, I did list some of the things I was most grateful for so he knew the impact he’d had on my life.
So dad, I know you’re still reading this blog. Here’s the entire list I should have written. Dad, thank you for:
- Giving me life and a loving home, first in our apartment in the Bronx, across the street from the cemetery, then our house where you and mom have stayed for over 35 years.
- Horsey-back rides. Those are some of my earliest memories as a kid in that apartment.
- Bringing home issues of Mad and Famous Monsters of Filmland magazines, especially when I was sick. They cemented my sense of humor and love of horror.
- Putting together monster model kits in the kitchen while listening to college radio replay the old radio serials.
- Annual summer vacations, where you showed me the beauty of Maine, a place my family now calls our home away from home.
- More drive-in movies than I can count, watching flicks that made me the envy of all my friends.
- So many other movies, most especially the twin bill of Dawn of the Dead and The Kentucky Fried Movie when I was 10. That stands out as the single greatest day at the movies in my life.
- An appreciation for a cold beer, a breeze to shoot and the ability to relax and not run myself ragged trying to keep up with everyone around me.
- Being a dad to Amy, accepting her into the family and always making her feel loved.
- My absolute love of reading, which then became a compulsion to write.
- Being there for me when Amy was so sick, and giving me a chance to collect myself without going bankrupt.
- Teaching me to be a man, to be responsible, caring and loving to my family.
- Being a great grandpa, playing wiffle ball with the kids, putting together put-put boats and slippng them $5 every time they were at the house.
I could write this list for days and never come to the end. The thing is, with each line, my heart grows heavier.
I miss you. We all miss you.
And most of all, we love you. No past tense. That will never change.
Rest in peace. You earned it.
Guest Post by Russell James : Horror in the Everglades!
Location. Location. Location. Real estate’s three most important considerations also apply to fiction. Horror writers need the right location for a creepy story. Well, forget the abandoned house, the derelict cruise ship, clown college (shiver!) As Hunter Shea’s SWAMP MONSTER MASSACRE and my new novel BLACK MAGIC demonstrate, head for the Everglades.
Everglades National Park takes up the southern tip of Florida. It’s a swampy savannah that stretches out flat as far as the eye can see. It’s sometimes flooded, sometimes not, and dotted with islands of trees. There are good reasons (other than Skunk Apes) to put the Everglades high on the horror locale list:
1. Isolation. Though it’s just miles from Miami, cross the park border and there’s nothing and no one out there. No cell service, no roads and once you trek a few miles in, no landmarks worth mentioning. Expect to get lost moments after starting your hike. Especially in the dark.
2. Scary creatures. I have an evil sorcerer in BLACK MAGIC to up the scare factor, but the Everglades has its own menagerie from Hell. Alligators, crocodiles, vultures, deadly cottonmouth snakes, literally tons of mosquitoes, plus stingrays, sharks and jellyfish where the ‘Glades meet Biscayne Bay. The last time I visited, I counted sixteen alligators and crocodiles sunning themselves at just one observation point. Who’d ever want to meander through that? 
Recently anacondas have taken up residence, after being released by moronic owners when they grew to adult size at over fifteen feet and 220 pounds. These constrictors eat anything and everything and have no natural predators. In my novel I describe one eating a deer. I did not make that up. There’s a picture on the NPS website if you don’t believe me.
In BLACK MAGIC, sorcerer Lyle Miller summons all of these creatures (and razor-toothed killer rabbits) to defend him as he tricks unwitting boys to help conjure a hurricane over south Florida. Read this non-tourist friendly Florida tale and you may cross the Everglades off your bucket list, if SWAMP MONSTER MASSACRE didn’t already do that for you. — Russell James
Hunter here. I highly suggest you grab a copy of Black Magic. Perfect summer reading! You can pick up a copy by clicking any of the links below:
You can also tag along with Russell as he journeys into the dark and strange at his website.
The Reviews Are In…
I’ve been told I need to ‘brag’ a little more about my own work, in between talking about ghosts, black eyed kids and various monsters living under our beds. I just want to be mini-Leonard Nimoy and live in my In Search Of world. Since my latest book, Sinister Entity, has been out for a couple of months now, I thought I’d share some of the great things that reviewers have said about my foray into ghost hunting a doppelganger. I suck at tooting my own horn, so I’ll let some outside tooters do it for me. 🙂
If the reviews below entice you to take the plunge and you purchase Sinister Entity, simply email me at huntershea1@gmail.com with proof of purchase and I’ll send you an e-copy of the Hunter Shea book of your choice.
“5/5 For a great suspenseful read, paranormal elements that wouldn’t let go and characters that feel so alive, they have become people I actually want to know in real life. Dialog and action are perfect!” — Zombie Girl Shambling (my personal favorite blog name)
“Shea weaves together a skillful blend of supernatural terror and blood-chilling suspense; the result is an intriguing and unique tale that will leave your heart pounding in your chest long after the final page has been closed. Make no mistake: this is not a book you want to read in the dark.” — Matthew Baker for Shattered Ravings
“Looking for a book to completely freak you out and make your hair stand on end? Shea brings his smooth and easy writing style, well-developed and emotional characters, hauntingly good paranormal dilemmas, and enough gusto to scare me out of my seat. I wouldn’t read this alone and especially not in the dark.” — Oh For the Hook of a Book Reviews
“Recommend for anyone who is interested in hours of tense, action-packed, horror-filled reading. Sinister Entity isn’t for the lighthearted but it’s well worth taking the plunge.” — Overflowing Bookshelves
“The story culminates in a climactic showdown between human and spirit that keeps you glued to the pages.” Horror Novel Reviews
“Wow wow wow! What a book! Mr Shea may well be proudly listed with my favourite Authors from now on.” — Sarah Fae Books
Hunter Shea 