Now that I have your attention (you marvelous perverts–I DIG you!) it’s time for…

 AJ’s SUPER-SERIOUS SUMMER READING LIST

(and holy shit, is this colour ever cremating my optic nerves!!)

As any writer with children knows, summer vacation is upon us, which means a huge drop in wordcount and a rapid increase in the number of times one is forced to utter phrases like: “dont lick the dog there!” and “why are you punting perfectly good Fig Newtons at your brother’s head?” and  “put my foot massager back in my sock drawer!” and “No-no-no-no that isn’t CANDY!!!” (Note to self: find a new home for sex toys and blueberry-flavoured lube)

In an attempt to not become completely berserk by September, I have put together a Sanity Liberation Action Plan, or SLAP. SLAP reads as follows:

Step One: Locate booze–kidding (mostly).

Step Two: Launch first novel, “Touched”, in ebook format July 22nd, 2011. WOOT! *chews nails to the quick*

Step Three: Relocate well-hidden sex toys (Hey, I’m gonna need a time-out, get off my case) 

Step Four: Do not stress about lowered wordcount. Also: do not obsessively check ebook sales of “Touched” every ten minutes for the entire rest of the summer. 

Step Five: Instead, catch up on reading list! Memorize the phrase: “Kid, can it wait until the end of this chapter, or is someone on fire?”

As per Step Five of SLAP, I’ve taught my children how to use the fire extinguisher, and put together a reading list to plow through, incuding some works by my new indie friends in Twitter’s fabulous #pubwrite group.

1. “War and Peace“, by that dead Russian dude who’s totally famous–except in my head, where I’m drawing a blank. I tell people I’ve read “War and Peace“. I have not. I intend to report by the end of the summer that I have actually, honestly read this. I highly doubt it will be a statement of truth. TOLSTOY! See? I knew I’d get it. Ok, I lie, I Googled it. You know what makes me happy? Picturing Tolstoy shakin’ it to DMX’s”Party up In Here”. I think Tolstoy woulda got jiggy with it.

2. “Tommyknockers“, by his majesty, the king of horror, Stephen King. Because I’m just really in the mood lately for a (spoiler alert) buried spaceship that drives a whole town homicidally bonkers, y’know? I need a break from zombies, ghouls and killer ass weasels. *considers this* Woah, that’s weird: I’ve never been sick of ghouls before.

3.  The sequel to  “Gabriel’s Redemption ” by Steve Umstead. I know it’s coming … not sure when, but soon. I very much enjoyed Steve’s forray into SciFi, loved the character Evan Gabriel, and will download this sequel the day of launch.

4. “The Mighty T ” by Everett Powers.  It’s sitting on my iPad waiting for me, calling to me … AJ, read me read me. After launching “Touched”, I will finally have time to explore this author. I have a feeling he’s gonna blow me away: that’s why I stole his gun, shhh don’t tell him.

5. “Schlongmaster, an Erotic Fright-Fest and Intergalatic Cookbook” by AJ Aalto. Wait, what? That’s totally not a thing! But gimme a few weeks, because it sure sounds like it should be, am I right?

6. “Death to Dust” by Kenneth V. Iserson, MD. A re-read, a massive lap-cracking tome, and not for the faint of heart, but a necessary brush-up on the science of death and decay. If you wanna know it, it’s in here. Iserson spares no detail.

7. “I, The Creation of a Serial Killer” by Jack Olsen and Keith Hunter Jesperson. This is a second attempt to read this book, the only book that has ever horrified me to the point where I could not continue.  I should point out: I’m not unaccustomed to reading True Crime. I, in fact, love True Crime. I could be content reading about serial killers all night, in my house alone, in the dark (I know, right? Reading in the dark, so fucking talented–I’m like a ninja, if ninjas could see in the dark). In this book, though, there was this part … oh God, I can’t even talk about it. It was one of the worst things I can imagine, and 2 yrs after trying to read it, I ‘m not over it yet. I must plow through it, if not in the name of research then for my pride. I can’t let a human monster get the better of me, nuh-uh, not gonna happen. There should be nothing a human being can do, that I can’t read about. I am a horror writer, I can hack it! (Get it? Hack? NEVERmind)

8. “On Killing” by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman, recommended for anyone who ever needs to write about murder, or understand the psychological effects of killing. So far, my characters only kill monsters and otherworldly shit, but the day may come where my main character has to take on a berry-bad human. That might fuck her up a wee bit, so I should know exactly how that might mess with her.

9. “The Pregnant Widow” by Martin Amis. Because I read “The Information” and loved it too much for adequate description, really. The minute I set it aside, I could not wait to pick it up again. It’s been AGES since I loved a book (or an author) this much, and this had been my first exploration of Amis. I will absolutely buy all of his books.

10. “Grave Undertakings” by the very cool R. A. Evans–when he launches it–because I loved his horror novel “Asylum Lake” and will patiently wait for the sequel. I’m hoping it happens before I go to the cottage, because the atmosphere would match completely.

11. “The Book of the New Sun” by Gene Wolfe, all four books. No reason, just thought it sounded like a kickass science fantasy romp.

12. “Drood” by Dan Simmons, one of my all-time favourite authors. The very genius twist on the psi-vampires in “Carrion Comfort” entertained me endlessly, as did his “A Winter Haunting” which was the best ghost story I have ever read. If “Drood” is in keeping with everything else this multi-genre master has to offer, I am in for a treat.

I’d like to give a final shout-out/kick-in-the-pants/cyber-wedgie to one of my very favourite indie authors, Al Boudreau, who would have topped this list with his second novel, if only he’d written it in time! I loved his first, the 5 STAR thriller “In Memory of Greed” so much that I find myself wondering about his characters and what they might do next. He’s been keeping me in the loop, but he needs to hurry the hell up! Until then, I eagerly follow his Cage Matches on his blog, and am participating in Horror In The Cage in August against a very worthy opponent, Mr. Jesse James Freeman (aka @mythcop) Should be a bloodbath; I’m psyched, intimidated, nervous and nauseous, but I’m gonna win. *RAWR!* It helps that I absolutely respect and adore Jesse as a person … he’s the Real Thing, and we’re going to have a blast going head-to-head.

So there it be. Join me on my Super-Serious Summer Reading List (oy–that colour–eyeballs incinerating–nerve damage imminent) if you dare, but please keep in mind: this list is for adults only, and only those adults who have iron stomachs and wills like dreadnaughts.

Oh, and one last thing. For Leo “Big-Baller” Tolstoy …. “All my street street people, meet me outside meet me outside meet me outside!“

I like hats.

<the end>

Wouldn’t that be an awesome blog, just a bigass random title, “I like hats”, and then … nothing.

Alas, this is AJ-Land, Official Home of the Blatherer, so it is not to be. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but how ’bout when a blogger is witless and soulless, hunh? Where does that leave me?

I swear, I had a point when I sat down. OH RIGHT! I like hats. And this is fortunate, because a while back I thought I’d chop off all my hair. For the first little while, this was OK, but I miss my long, chunky layers, and … *dread* *horror* this week I shall be having my official author photos taken. Doesn’t that sound so pretentious? No, not my use of the word “shall”. “Official author photos” … like I’m hanging out in a martini bar in a fedora licking the end of my pencil and–don’t those cool-daddy authors do that?–writing film noir dialogue that could slap a cigar out of a mobster’s mouth and smoke that cigar while peelin’ panties with a wink. I have no friggin’ idea what any of that means (I was hoping you would), but I do know two things: 

A) I have lost the ability to memorize shit like “acetomidohexanoylwhosa-whatsit” and must instead be satisfied with saying bremelanotide, and

B) I will be VERY tempted to wear a hat in my author photo this week.

<Can’t I just use this one, big ole eyeballs? No, whatCHOO lookin’ at?>

So, the A problem (that sounds like I’m referring to an ass problem, like there’s a T problem coming up about my tits–and there TOTALLY is) stems from my new inability to connect bitty pieces of chemistry together to make sense of long chemical compound names. This used to be easy. This used to be a daily habit. I can probably remember C50H68N14O10–but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Not that there’ll be any home invasion-style pop quizes where the thug scream-spits in my face: “Gimme the fuckin’ jewelry, bitch, and what’s the compound name for bremelanotide? Yeah, you heard me. SAY IT! SAY IT IN FULL, FOOL, OR I’M’A BASH YOUR SKULL IN!” That would be kickass … geek home invasion by University drop-out who failed his chem final and just fuckin’ snapped.

Anyway, this distresses me some (not the home invasion, the memory thang–I’ve got my pickleforks, I’m fine). I used to be pretty damn good at shit like that. Have I lost that ability? Do I even need it, really? It isn’t as though I have a secret laboratory in my cellar with test tubes and beakers bubbling away. No, honest, I don’t! Plus, making your own chloroform (trichloromethane? YES! *licks finger and draws point on imaginary scoreboard*) can cause big kablooies, sooooo … what was my point? Oh, right: perhaps I’m using different parts of my brain more than others–the fruit has fallen off the mind-crops and my science is a fallow field. That’s more than a little disconcerting. In an effort to strengthen these underused grey cells, I will be making more of an effort to spin science into my writing and blogs.

The B problem (kinda like the B train, ‘cept it doesn’t smell like day-old piss) should resolve itself by the end of the week. Erm, not that my hair is going to grow to full-length in three days. But if I can get over my fear of not being photogenic, and just relax and have fun with the shoot, it should be OK. If not …

There’s always hats!

(Editor’s Note: Photo taken today at 3:30ish pm. WOW, is that a new zit? 37 years old and still getting pimples–that’s fantastic! Just in time for photo week. Do I see a grey hair? Also, SO spectacular. And in case anyone’s wondering, that’s not a medic alert bracelet, because I do not have a fatal allergy to penicillin, so don’t bother trying to kill me with moldy strawberries like you’re some clever snot-nosed murderer in an Agatha Christie novel, got it?)

(Author’s note: There was no T-for-titties problem. I lied. I always do.) 

“What the hell are you doing?”

These are six words I hear on a weekly basis, if not more often. See, I’m not one of those writers who sit quietly and let the scenes brew on their own. I don’t turn off the lights and lay on my bed and listen to Air Supply while the visions form. I have to walk and talk ’em out. I have to speak the dialogue, often before it goes to the paperspace of my screen. I rant, and wave my arms, and fake punches at myself in the mirror (What? Oh, puhlease, as if you don’t).

If actors have method acting, during which they fully immerse themselves in their character, I guess I have method writing, because putting myself bodily into a scene (even when there is no scene yet) works for me. As a for instance, my main character has a heavy espresso habit: Marnie fully intends to pull a de Balzac and die of caffeine poisoning. I myself am not even a coffee drinker, never mind espresso. I drink the occasional tea … if by “occasional” you mean “14-fucking-cups-a-day”. OK, maybe I’m heading for a de Balzac myself. It occurred to me a while ago that it might help me connect to my main character if I temporarily developed some of her likes and dislikes. I went to Starbucks and ordered a double espresso–and nearly died. The barista was mildly insulted by my coughing and chest thumping. I quickly decided Marnie does not like Starbucks and instead brews her own espresso. I looked up the finest kind, ordered some, spent a stupid amount of money on a brewer (I’m all impulse, baby, money is irrelevant until days later when I go, shit that was a lot of money!)and experimented with it. Result: I suck at pulling espresso, but I bet my MC is a pro, and even my shittyass attempt tastes a helluva lot better than Starbucks. Also: it earned me a big ole:

“What the hell did you do?”

I’m so misunderstood *grin*.

Method writing does, sadly, get me some odd looks. I’m not all that stealthy. I get busted. I’ve lost my sense of shame, for the most part. I’m OK with my friends and family catching me talking to myself, or other drivers seeing me mouthing lines of dialogue at the red lights. I’m a writer, it’s perfectly fine for me to be demented.

I do wonder … how many other writers do this? Do you get up from your desk and do the angry imaginary door slam as your main character marches out on another? Do you throw a glass against the wall to watch the shards fly so you can better describe their arc through the air? Do you hang a dead pig in your barn until it blows up with maggots and then shoot it with a pellet gun to see how far the maggots spray? No! Right! Of course not, heh heh. I don’t do that either, that would be … hoo boy … that would be really crazy. *avoids eye contact* Also, it would have garnered me a huge:

“What the bloody hell are you doing NOW?”

If your character has an accent, do you attempt it too? If he/she speaks a whole other language, do you learn the bare minimum, or do you learn all the basics, and then annoy ppl by teaching them snippits they didn’t ask to be taught? Do you give your characters music preferences that you don’t share, and then develop an accidental appreciation for them? How close do you get to your characters? Do you make a conscious choice to make your MCs much different than you, or do you try and write them from your own perspective?

How “method” is your writing?

(Author’s note: I have been informed that my future guest blogger, miss Heather Goldie, very much enjoys my Evil Author interviews, and intends to turn the tables on me this week. I have only the foggiest clue what she intends to ask me in this interview, and I’m a wee bit scared, but turnabout is fair play. Here’s hoping I don’t completely embarrass myself.)