Heaving Vampire Bosoms of Angst

I know, it’s not Friday, but in the spirit of Halloween – which is Friday – I have something to get off my chest.

Heaving vampire bosoms of angst.

What’s up with them? Is it just me, or does every book these days have to include some angst-ridden vampire and the heaving bosoms of those who love them?  Every time I turn around, someone’s just gone a sold another tale of vampire angst to an agent or publisher, heaving bosoms notwithstanding.

What’s the allure? Forbidden love? Dangerous liaisons? Pale white skin? A lack of personal grooming? What?

And why vampires? Yeah, I get it, the corrilation between blood sucking and lust – that’s so yesterday. Why not immortal aliens who must feast on the feet of small children in order to survive, and the three-breasted women who love them?

What about zombies? Don’t they deserve love too?  Or don’t their decaying bosoms heave any longer? I suppose they could chuck one at you. Take out eye, if you’re not careful.

It’s become a running joke around the coffee pot these days. If you want to sell a novel, you have to include a vampire or two, some heaving boobies, and enough angst to fill a Chevy half-ton.

I just don’t get it.



It’s Wednesday. That means it’s my turn to post. I don’t have much to say. I’m tired. Busy. You know, life as usual.

Pete stole onto IM one day a week or so ago. Said he needed my address to send me a letter he’d written. I wasn’t online when he sent the IM, but I sent him my address. I’ve also sent him two letters. Still don’t have one of my own. I’m bummed. Okay, not really, but I like mail that’s just mail. Doesn’t matter whether it’s e-mail or postal mail, getting something just ’cause gives me a real lift.

Yes. And?

Yes. I’m here. Did you need something? Want something? Why are you just hanging out, reading this?

Dream a Little Dream With Me

Okay, so it’s too early for Free Drink Friday – but just because Pete’s not around doesn’t mean Lori and I are asleep at the zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Actually, I had a dream last night that really bugged me, and I thought to myself “Hey, self, why not mention this dream on the Castle and see how people interpret it.”  I’m not into the meaning of dreams myself, so much. I believe they’re just your brain on vacation, entertaining itself while your body sleeps. But obviously things on your mind during the day can bleed into that entertainment.  I also believe that as writers, we’re already so creative, our dreams can be particularly bizarre for no apparent reason.

And this one really bugged me.

I was driving around town in my car, and for some reason (very much out of character for my beloved car) it was handling terribly. Every time I tried to TURN, even though I was turning the wheel, the car wouldn’t turn.  I’d be driving along, waiting to reach a particular street, come up to it and start turning the wheel – which felt like pushing through gravel – and the car would keep going straight.

I could stop the car, and get honked at by other drivers, but I could not make any turn.

My car handles like a dream, so it’s clearly not about the car. I’m sure there’s some metaphor in there about my lack of control, or inability to change course. Or perhaps I really just want to drive through gravel, naked, while eating pie.  I dunno.

What do you think?

Alas, Pete, we hardly knew ye…

Here’s something fun to do that involves tormenting your favorite Pete.

Send me an e-mail with FOR PETE in the subject line and I’ll print it out and drop it in the mail to him the next time I send him a letter. I promised to try to mail something to him every Friday. Tell him the news from the online world, the games and conversations and articles he’s missing. Be as evil as you want. Include links he can’t click on, videos and music he can’t play, anecdotes he can’t respond to. Or, be nice, and send him a real letter, telling him what’s up. If you want him to respond, include your postal address. I can’t guarantee that he’ll write to you, but he’ll probably intend to, even if he doesn’t.


If this is Monday, then I have enacted my super-evil genius mad plan of doom! Bwahaha! Soon, I shall have membership in the Evil League of Evil, and you shall all tremble before my–
Oh. Wrong note. Er. Whoops…

There is a plan, but it’s not that one (the above plan involves seventeen overripened strawberries, two pints of malt beer, and a kazoo, BUT THAT IS ALL I CAN REVEAL). This plan…is that I am going completely off the internet, off every corner and piece of it completely. Out of my e-mail, off blogs of all sorts. I won’t even see news or weather sites. I’ve got my wife changing the password on the router box so I can’t access there. I’ll lock myself out of all other avenues too. Completely gone.

For how long, you perhaps say? (Or perhaps you say “hooray! finally!” to which I reply “HMPH”) How long is until I have finished a novel. I’m sitting at the start of something like the nineteenth draft of The Neon God, which has been worked on, off and on amidst other projects, since 2001. I’m really sick of looking at it. I want it done. (That said, I’ve got a headful of ideas for my second draft of “The Nondescript” too, so who knows what I’ll wind up writing).

So, that’s how long. Until the book’s done. Then I’ll be back and around and useful. Or whatever it is I am. I don’t know how long it’ll be. Maybe I’ll write the book in two weeks and be back in no time. If I’m still gone at Christmas-time, er, then I really suck as a writer, that’s what!

Right. And off I go!

Free Drink Friday; What Day Is It?

This is all I have the capacity for today, so enjoy:

It’s a Brand New Day

Have you seen my keys to the brand new Austrailia?  I know they’re here somewhere . . .