Category Archives: Books

The Full Pete.

As promised, the collected edition of Pete, Drinker of Blood is now available — you can get it for Kindle and Nook, or at Smashwords you can grab various formats (Kindle, Nook, iBooks, Kobo, etc.). It’s also out in paperback.

(A little side note: I get the highest royalty from sales at Smashwords, if you’re gonna go the ebook route).

Click for a bigger version of Sam Carr’s cool cover.

Like I mentioned the other day, the serialized version is being pulled off sale now that the collected edition is out — parts 1 and 2 have been pulled already, and this weekend parts 3-5 will be pulled. Parts 6-8 will go the following weekend.

Now here’s where I ask you to do me a huge favor — if you’ve read Pete, please consider writing a short review on Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Smashwords (or on your blog, if you have one). It doesn’t have to be more than a paragraph or two, and you’d be amazed at how much those reviews can help sales. And if you have a book review blog, hit me up for a review copy of Pete in the comments below, with a link to your site.

If you’ve been paying attention to the ol’ blog, you know I’ve been running a soundtrack of sorts for Pete. Next up on the hit parade is Sailcat, with Motorcycle Mama — the quality of this video is astonishingly bad, but I love the song.


The End of Pete.

Man, is it ever hard to stay on top of the five-posts-a-week thing with this blog. I don’t know how James Lileks does it.

I’m pleased to announce that the eighth and final installment of Pete, Drinker of Blood is now available at Smashwords, where you can get files for your Kindle, Nook, iBooks, and more. By the time this post goes live on Tuesday morning, it should be available at Amazon, and possibly at Barnes and Noble, as well (if it ain’t live on B&N in the morning, it should be by Tuesday evening). This one features a supercool cover illustration by Rafael Navarro, which you can see right up there.

I’ll do another post soon, kind of a report on the whole serial novel experiment and how it’s gone, but I might save that until after the collected version of Pete has been released (early October, most likely).

Anyway — if you’ve been reading Pete, I hope you enjoy the final installment, and if you’ve been waiting until the entire book was available, now’s a good time to read it!


Smashwords.

Quick Casey-dawg update: gave her a dose of her medicine last night and she held that down fine. She gave me the stink-eye plenty because she was hungry and I wasn’t allowed to feed her, though. This morning, more medicine, followed by the prescribed amount of chicken noodle soup (run through the blender). She kept that down, so an hour or so later, I gave her a bit more. She threw up a tiny amount, but kept most of it down. As of now (about 8 PM Wednesday evening), she’s had another dose of medicine and two more tiny servings of chicken soup, and all of it has stayed down. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Resting comfortably.

Earlier this year, I started making my books available on Smashwords. I didn’t see any real sales to speak of, but figured SW was valuable as a distribution platform, since they make the titles available to various outlets, including Apple’s iBookstore and Kobo. Meanwhile, most of the sales I’ve been seeing have been through Amazon, with slightly less through Barnes & Noble’s Nook store.

But yesterday I actually started paying attention to Smashwords and how freakin’ cool the site is. I like the way the business is run, and the people who run it seem extremely dedicated and conscientious.

Here’s what really snapped my head around, though: I make a significantly higher royalty on sales through Smashwords than I do through Amazon or B&N.

Don’t get me wrong — this isn’t some anti-corporate, stick-it-to-the-man rant. I buy plenty of stuff from Amazon myself (pre-ordering Jaws on Blu-ray, for instance), and to be honest, I figure wherever someone wants to spend their money is their business. So yeah, on the contrary, this is actually me being blatantly greedy.

Click on the image to see the Smashwords page for the book.

Dig if you will: say you buy a copy of Pete, Drinker of Blood part 6 for 99 cents from Amazon. First off, I thank you very much for spending your money on my work, no matter where you do so. Believe me, I appreciate every sale I make, and so do the dawgs, because they know it all adds up to another big sack of food. Out of that 99 cents spent at Amazon, I get 35 cents.

But check this out (and why I never realized this before is a shining example of how stupid I’m capable of being): if you buy that same 99 cent installment of Pete from Smashwords, I get 56 cents.

Now, that 21 cent difference might not sound like much, but think about how that can add up.

To be fair to Amazon, anything priced under $2.99 on Amazon falls under their 30% royalty rate. Anything $2.99 and higher qualifies for their 70% royalty, so I do pretty well on stuff like Squirrel Eyes or Tales of Misery and Imagination.

But I get 85% at Smashwords. Across the board. (There’s a Paypal transaction fee, which is why that 56 cent amount doesn’t sound quite right for a 99 cent sale).

Something else cool about Smashwords? You can choose whatever file type you prefer. Got a Kindle? You can buy the .mobi file. Nook or iBooks? Choose the ePub file. You can get files for your Sony eReader or your Kobo or just plain .pdf versions, if you prefer.

And once you’ve bought a book, you can go back and download another file type at any time, at no extra cost. Say you’ve got a Kindle and an iPad — well, you can download the same title in two different formats and put ‘em on each device. And each book’s catalog page includes a handy link with easy instructions on how to load the titles on your choice of reading device.

Also: Smashwords uses PayPal, so you’re not handing out your info to yet another online source. It’s all easy as pie.

And you’re helping authors get more of the money for their work.

Mind you, I’m not gonna fault anyone for buying stuff where they prefer to shop. If you dig Amazon or whatever and that’s where you wanna buy things, like I said up above — it’s your business, and if one of the things you choose to buy from Amazon or B&N or wherever happens to be something I wrote, again, it’s very much appreciated. At the end of the day, I’m just happy to sell a book, and I’m even happier if people are entertained by my work.

But if you’re so inclined, give Smashwords a look, nose around, see what’s what. I think you’ll like ‘em, too.

NOTE: I do not own stock in Smashwords and I’m not sleeping with the owner. I just dig ‘em.


Pete, Part 6.

Not a lot to report today — feeling kinda burnt out, really, but it’ll pass.

I watched John Carter (of Mars) again last night, and damn, do I love that movie. This time I noticed something someone had mentioned — during combat, the solar-powered airships maneuver to put their opponents in shadow, which is pretty cool. I sure wish we could get a sequel, because I’d like to hang out with Tars Tarkas for another couple hours.

Part 6 of Pete, Drinker of Blood came out over the weekend, and right now you can get it for Kindle, Nook, and in various formats at Smashwords. It’ll be available on iBooks and Kobo soon.

Man, I can’t believe there are only two parts left. If you dig the crazy vampire action and whatnot, give Pete a read — good ol’ Axel Howerton says it’s “Oddly charming and completely compelling.”


Seven Men From Now (But Really Only Two)

A largely uneventful weekend, really. Worked on the new Boone Butters story on Friday, then spent most of Saturday completely wiped out by these damnable allergies (although I got in a fair amount of movie-watching during the suffering). Sunday I threw myself into finishing the breakdowns for the Logan’s Run comic, hoping to get through it before the allergies kicked in hard. Got that done and I’ll deliver it in the morning, once it’s had a little time to percolate. Tomorrow I’ve gotta dive into part 5 of Pete, Drinker of Blood. Got a cool announcement to make about the book, but I’m saving that for now…

My Twitter-pal KJ Waters tagged me in a post on her blog as part of this crazy “Lucky 7″ thing, wherein I’m supposed to post some of my work in progress and tag another seven people. There are rules — something about going to page 77 of your WIP (which, by the way, still means Women In Prison to me, thanks to a lifetime of watching trashy movies), then posting 7 lines or 7 paragraphs, but I haven’t quite hit page 77 of Pete, Drinker of Blood yet, so opted to go to page 14 of Part 1 of Pete, then post the segment below.

I’m not sure I know seven other people who will play along with this, so I’ll just tag the following folks:

Axel Howerton — Contributor to A Career Guide to Your Job in Hell, author of the upcoming novel Hot Sinatra, Canaydjun man-ape, and all-around cool sumbitch.

Bob Vardeman — Co-editor of Career Guide, author of far too many novels to count, and man of mystery.

So here’s my chunk o’ stuff — the opening of chapter 5 of Pete, Drinker of Blood part 1.

As if being a vampire weren’t enough of a cross to bear (so to speak), Pete had to be saddled with insomnia, as well. That was the one thing he’d really hoped would be different after he’d been turned — surely he could look forward to some pleasant slumber in a nice coffin, a pillow of his native earth beneath his snoozing head. He was disappointed to discover that sleeping during the day was even tougher for him than sleeping at night, and that coffin thing just wasn’t gonna happen for him anyway — he’d tried it early on (in what Pete scornfully liked to think of as his vampire apprenticeship), but it reminded him too much of the time when he was 8 and had wriggled his head and upper torso into a large carpet tube, becoming quite stuck. Those were, of course, skinnier days for Pete, but still, he was lodged in that tube for a good hour waiting for his friend Mickey to fetch his dad. They’d had to squirt a bunch of Crisco up into the tube with a basting syringe until Pete was greasy enough to slide back out, and although sworn to silence, the first bell hadn’t even rung at school the next day before Mickey spilled the beans and Pete became known as “The Crisco Kid” for the next several weeks. And don’t ask about gym class.

Pete’s studio (a.k.a. “no bedroom”) apartment was well-guarded from the harmful rays of the sun — pull-down blinds duct-taped to the walls and blankets tacked up over the blinds just in case — but none of that helped with the undeniable knowledge that the goddamn sun was up, and even after all these years, he just couldn’t get it out of his head and settle in. The springs on the twin bed shoved into one corner squeaked annoyingly as the Pete-shaped lump beneath the blankets readjusted itself in hopes of finding a comfortable position. Settling, the lump inflated slightly, then a sigh escaped from within.

Flinging back the blankets, Pete sat up, frowning. He scratched his head, ruffling his meager ‘fro, and grabbed his watch from the bedside table, peering at it in the pale reddish light from the lava lamp bubbling away nearby. 11:23 AM.

Pete tossed the watch down on the bed and stood, rubbing the round wad of belly stuffed into his faded Evel Knievel T-shirt. His flannel jammie pants made a soft scuffing sound as he shuffled to the desk and switched on another lamp. The walls of the tiny apartment were covered with ‘70s-era posters — MOPAR muscle cars, Bruce Lee, and the one-sheet for Jaws among them. Hanging directly over the bed was a stunning black light poster of Mr. Spock.

Pete rested his rump on the edge of the desk, careful to avoid damaging the mostly-complete model kit of a 1971 Plymouth Duster 340. One of the things disturbing his slumber was this situation with Mr. Stovall. The old coot was turning into a proper pain in the ass, that business with the garlic being the most aggravating example yet. Stovall and his wife had moved into the building back around 1986, so it was doubly irritating to Pete — he’d been there first, after all. That had to count for something, right?

Pete wasn’t sure what had tipped the old man off to his vampiric capers — it wasn’t like he’d been dragging victims back to the apartment, and certainly never after 9:00 PM (rules were rules). In fact, he couldn’t even remember the first time Stovall had accused him of being a bloodsucking fiend. Six or seven months ago? And why all of a sudden, after living in the same building for over two decades? Pete wondered if the asswipes at Club Emoglobin got the same sort of treatment from their neighbors.

Shuffling over to the TV, Pete switched it on, finding a rerun of The Match Game. He flopped back in his comfy chair as Charles Nelson Reilly filled in the blank with a particularly bawdy double-entendre. Pete felt reasonably certain that no other vampire anywhere on the planet was engaged in that particular activity at that moment.


Pete!

I was sorting out what to write for this blog post in my head this morning when it occurred to me that even though I’ve mentioned Pete, Drinker of Blood a lot, I haven’t really talked about the book(s) much. Since Part 3 is now available, I figured this is a good time to offer a little background.

The idea for Pete started kickin’ around my head when I lived in Los Angeles in 1999. Originally, I planned to write it as a novel, but got sidetracked by other projects. Pete never entirely left my head, though, and in 2010, I finally wrote it — as a screenplay. Then in early 2011, I started adapting the script as a novel, but was once again sidetracked by other writing gigs. One of those was a comic book — a four issue mini-series called Sinbad, Rogue of Mars 2 (coming in August from Bluewater Comics). As I was writing the fourth issue of Sinbad, I realized I was telling one story in four parts, each to be released separately, then eventually collected into one book — and why the heck couldn’t I do that with a novel?

Now, obviously the serial novel is far from being a new idea, but because I’m a little slow on the uptake, it had never occurred to me to do something in that form before. I went back to what I’d written of Pete and discovered I basically had the material for Part 1 — just needed to wrap up that segment with a nice cliffhanger ending and it would be good to go. Sarah and I shot some cover photos, I put the whole thing together, and released it via Kindle, Nook and Smashwords.

And so here we are at Part 3, and I’ve gotta say, I’m having a great time with it — not only with writing it, but with the serial novel format. I like having a monthly deadline and not having the time to overthink things. Somebody — I can’t remember who (was it you, Bob Vardeman?) — recently said that the ebook format has the potential to become the equivalent of the old pulp mags, and I dig that notion a lot. In fact, after I’m done with all eight parts of Pete, Drinker of Blood, I intend to play with the serial form even more, and I think I’ve got a pretty cool idea for that.

Oh yeah — the storyline of Pete? Our hero, Pete Tyler, is something of a reluctant vampire — a blue-collar Joe who hates techno music, frilly shirts, and really hates the other vampires in L.A. who are into all that stuff. That crowd hangs out at a joint on Sunset Boulevard called Club Emoglobin, but Pete prefers The Starbucket, a crappy dive bar across the street. The place sports an interesting history, a terrific jukebox jammed full of classic rock… and Angie, the cute bartender Pete’s developed a crush on. Unfortunately for Pete, just as things are getting interesting with Angie, Carson Fitzgerald returns to Hollywood.

Fitzgerald is the sinister vampire lord who turned Pete and the other L.A. vampires, and he’s suffering from a mysterious malady — human blood barely keeps him alive, and only the blood of another vampire can truly sustain him. He’s back to reclaim his children and more-or-less turn them into his private all-you-can-eat buffet. As you might imagine, Pete and the others don’t really dig the idea, and — as they say — trouble ensues

New installments of Pete, Drinker of Blood are being released monthly. I’ll leave you with a little number Pete would play on the jukebox in The Starbucket — in fact, this would work well as Pete’s personal theme song:


Greasing Arelis.

Another short post, I’m afraid — been working on the cover for part 3 of Pete, Drinker of Blood, and between staring at Photoshop and fighting allergies, I’m about shot for the day. This time around, the cover involves fried chicken (you’ll understand when you read it) and the saucy Arelis Haskamp Romero, who was kind enough to serve as our (greasy) model. As with the first two covers, Sarah shot the photos, and a swell time was had by all.

The best part? Casey and Decker got to eat the leftover chicken. Dawgs love photo shoots.

With any luck, I’ll be able to run the finished cover on Monday. Meanwhile, I leave you with a spectacular (and VERY LOUD) assortment of fellows.


My Adventure with Lemmy.

Getting good feedback on part 3 of Pete, Drinker of Blood — always a relief, as you might imagine. Meanwhile, I’m gearing up to start writing the second Boone Butters standalone crime story — Boone is a character in my novel Squirrel Eyes, and he’s getting his own series of dorky crime adventures, the first of which is called Roomies (available for Kindle, Nook and at Smashwords, if you’re so inclined).

You may have noticed that last line in my little bio-thing at the bottom of these posts, the stuff about being Lemmy’s stand-in for a Motorhead video, and perhaps one or two of you thought to yourselves How in the hell did that happen? — especially since I’ve got the short hairs and whatnot.

Well, let me take you back to 1995…

I had just moved to Los Angeles, and through the kindness of a mutual friend, found myself in the amazing position of renting a room at Linnea Quigley’s house. For those of you not in the loop, Linnea is a major-league “Scream Queen,” who starred in such classics as Return of the Living Dead, Savage Streets, and Nightmare Sisters, so I’m pretty sure you can understand how cool this living situation was for a goof like me.

Linnea rarely carried the chainsaw around the house.

One day, Linnea — one of the sweetest human beings I’ve ever met in my life (and who played a significant role in my screenwriting career by introducing me to Craig Hamann, but that’s a whole ‘nother story) — asked me if I wanted to come hang out on the set of the Motorhead video she’d be working on, so I could meet the band. I can’t remember my exact words, but I’m guessing “F*ck yeah!” would be a pretty close approximation. The next morning, we headed off to the set, where Linnea introduced me to director Tom Rainone, who surprised me by asking if I’d mind shooting some behind the scenes video. When the guys in Motorhead showed up, Tom introduced me to all of ‘em, and I sat around with Lemmy for a bit, geeking it up and asking him stupid questions like “Are you gonna act in more movies?” Through all of this, he was fixing up a massive tumbler of whiskey (and this was somewhere around 9 AM, I’d estimate).

It was at this point that Tom noticed I was about Lemmy’s height, and in those days, my hair was pretty damn long. Essentially, I was drafted into the role of Lemmy’s stand-in. I spent the rest of the day standing at Lemmy’s mike while various shots were set up and lit, then ran around shooting whatever behind the scenes video I could grab in between set-ups (and I’m a terrible BTS shooter, by the way — I apologize, Tom).

I doubt I have to tell you it was one of the coolest days of my life.

Here’s the video, for “Sacrifice.” Linnea is one of the nurses dancing around.

I only wish I’d been a little more hep to Hawkwind (Lemmy’s earlier band) at the time, because I would’ve talked his damn ear off about that, I guarantee.



The Casey Nubbin

Okay, so the word nubbin is nowhere near frightening enough to describe the thing, but whatever you wanna call it, the ol’ Casey-Dawg gave me a hell of a scare last Friday night.

Casey does not appreciate the theft of her soul.

Casey’s a leaner, y’see — she likes to walk up to a person and lean against them, sometimes putting so much of her weight (50 lbs!) into it, it’ll knock you off-balance. I was outside with the Creatures that night when Casey did this to me. My usual response is to give her a good skritchin’. She tends to lean with her left side against a person, but for some reason, she leaned the right against me that time. As I was skritchin’ and scruffin’ her, I found a big lump on her left side, near her back leg.

Big. I mean, the size of the palm of my hand, and very solid.

This, as the kids say, freaked me the hell out, man. (Okay, maybe the kids said that circa 1975, but play along). I had visions of doggie-cancer banging around my head, especially since I lost my beloved Great Dane Taffy to the Big C when I was a kid, and that started as a very similar lump on her side.

So yeah, freaking out commenced in earnest. It was too late to call Casey’s regular vet, the local horse doctor-type (handlebar mustache and all), and being a broke-ass writer, I can’t afford the emergency vet. That’s when the freaking out found itself accompanied by a hefty load of guilt at the thought of waiting through the weekend until I could get her in to see her vet on Monday.

Fortunately, my girlfriend Sarah managed to talk me down. We realized that Casey had been to see the vet just a few days before and he gave her two shots, mere inches from the spot where the lump was. Maybe it was just a reaction to the vaccines. The yard here is also home to about a zillion kinds of creepy spiders, and Casey rolls around in the dirt and grass and who-knows-what all day long. Besides, she sure wasn’t acting sick — she was running around the yard with Decker and Einstein, flopping on her back to get her belly rubbed and generally acting the fool. Not to mention her appetite (substantial, I can assure you) hadn’t been affected.

All of that calmed me down some, but I didn’t sleep too well Friday night. When Casey woke me up Saturday morning to be let out, I felt the lump again and it seemed smaller. I was worried that it was just wishful thinking, but it continued to obviously decrease in size through the weekend. I put off calling the vet Monday, and I’m pleased to report that as of today (Tuesday afternoon as I write this) the lump is less than a quarter of the size it was on Friday night.

Whew.

Whew indeed.

Meanwhile — Pete, Drinker of Blood part 3 is in the hands of my trusted readers, getting the once-over. We shoot the cover photos Wednesday night. Still on track to have it out in the world by April 10.

Tomorrow: the story of the Motorhead shoot. But for now, The Sweet:


I Think I Just Ate My Tongue.

Afraid this is gonna be a short post — I had high hopes of finishing part 3 of Pete, Drinker of Blood today, but a trip to the dentist this afternoon (it’s Monday as I write this) left me feeling like the left half of my head is dribbling down into my shirt, and as the numbness wears off, the pain is settling in, so…

Meanwhile, please feel free to check out my answers to the Same Six Questions that Andy Rane asks authors over at his blog.

Time to head back to the couch and flop with some Anthony Bourdain on the ol’ TV. I’ll leave you with the original Shermanator — please enjoy Bobby and his leather britches.

UPDATE: I managed to rally a few hours after writing this, and I banged through the rest of Pete part 3. But now I’m gonna get going on that TV watching.




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