Ronan Cray

Haunting Social Media

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 10 Jan 2015 06:46:00 +0000

Haunting.
It sounds better than stalking.
Because it is.
A stalker shows up outside your house. They look through your mail. They wait for you at your favorite places. They peek in the windows. They want to be a part of your life. A big part.
You close the shades. You leave town. You file a restraining order.
The real world sucks.
Social media is different.
If social media were the real world,
you'd install a special window in your house. You prepare yourself before walking in front of it. Then you act. You pose with new clothes. You display your meals before eating. You flash slides of your vacation. You hold up your cat.
A crowd gathers outside the window. You appear more frequently. They keep coming. Before long, your self-esteem hinges on how many people are camped out on your lawn.
But social media is not the real world.
There is no window on your house.
There is no one in your yard.
You are alone.
Online, your visitors are vapors. They visit your realm for seconds and disappear. Like lost loved ones, you take from it what you can. They whisper words of encouragement. They ask you for things. Sometimes they even frighten you.
But when you turn off the phone...
shut down the computer...
They're gone.
They were never really there.
You are haunted.

Don't Blog Drunk III

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 09 Oct 2014 04:37:00 +0000

Alcohol is a depressant. We forget that as we dance the night away.
But soon it opens our eyes to the tired people around us. The women, desperate trollops dressed up in hopes of impregnation. The men, in fits of testosterone fury. All reduced to the basest instincts of procreation, frivolity, and sadness.
And you.
Alcohol holds up a mirror and shouts, "Laugh, you fool. Laugh before you cry!"
I want no more of this. But others; they live for this... release. They beg alcohol to loose the chains of societal oppression. They proceed with another and another. They throw away the compass even as the fog closes in, as if this gesture lends the illusion of freedom. You must, you must get lost with them or you are shunned.
Into the darkness you go. Tomorrow be damned for today. The darker it gets, the less you pretend to feel, until the illusion cocoons you in bliss.
Then morning lights your silk on fire.

Maslow and Prosopagnosia

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 24 Jun 2014 22:16:00 +0000

I live in New York, and every building I walk into has a man behind a desk asking me to sign in. I think about those men. For eight hours a day they sit at a desk, bored beyond belief. They expend 1000 calories, occupy two square feet, consume 185 liters of oxygen, and ingest several cups of water all to provide a modest amount of security for the people upstairs who pretty much do the same thing.

Is this what their parents hoped for when they spent eighteen years raising them? Is this an adequate result of twelve years of school? Was this worth emigrating thousands of miles? Is this a reason to get up in the morning?

Even more pressing, are any of us, in any job, any different?

I look around my office and I see clones. That guy and that girl and that guy look like me. We wear the same clothes, perform the same function, worry about the same things, enjoy the same range of available entertainments, expect the same life expectancy. I've reached the point where I can't tell people apart. How long before prosopagnosia sets in?

It's not so much that we're cogs in a machine. I question if the machine actually produces anything worth working for. It appears that the most it does is keep us alive, as a species. With gradual improvements, it does this for a longer and longer period each century.

If that's all, surely there is another way we could achieve this without sending missives from small boxes all day, isolated from friends and loved ones.

Is it a question of motivation? I've worked with many volunteer groups and find it amazing how hard people will work without pay. People volunteer immense amounts of time on a profound variety of activities. The internet, for one. Charity, politics, religion, and the environment to name a few more. Why is it that we are inspired to give a piece of our lives to some causes but have to be paid for others? Does that mean we are paid for what is not important? If it’s not important, why are we doing it?

I understand the basic tenets of economy. If one of us wants to paint, we need materials to do so. Canvas, made from cotton, collected from fields grown by farmers. Paint, mixed from stones mined by workers in the mountains. Time, borrowed from the merchants and farmers and miners who perhaps would have preferred to do their own painting but went to work every day so someone else could.

What I don’t understand is why we spend so much time working, much more than our ancestors. Farmers, at least, had winters off. Hunters had seasons. Thanks to the controlled environment of an office, two weeks of vacation are frowned upon. Shouldn’t the opposite be true? We’ve mastered everything our forebears labored under. So why are we working harder, longer, and with less pride?

So much of what we'd "rather be doing" is artistic (paint, write, dance, sing, as well as the thousands of hobbies which involve constructing something small). They fall under two categories. First, the kinds of things people used to do when they weren't hunting for food. Things like hanging out with friends and family. And second, narcissistic activities. Painting, writing, dancing, singing, and creating is just a way of getting what is in our head out of our head and into the world at large. Never mind the ego. Every artist feels a rush of relief and satisfaction at having created something regardless of what others think.

While we're creating and spending time with loved ones, though, we need food and raw materials. For that we have to work.

Isn't there some way for us to do both? Farm half the day and focus on our hobbies the other half? Mine in the morning and paint in the afternoon? If one farm feeds a hundred people, couldn’t we take turns driving the tractor?

Aside from the overpopulation of the planet and taxation of resources, the problem is the extent to which we have gone to ensure our safety. A small cave would keep us dry and alive. A small amount of food staves off hunger and disease. A single article of clothing keeps us warm and protected. Maslow's pyramid isn't Egyptian. It is remarkably small and readily achievable.

So why do we keep building it? Why do we keep shopping after we are warm? Why do we need larger and larger houses? Why do we overeat? Isn’t there a point where our reach for security actually begins erode it? We’re overeating, overworking, and commuting several hours each way to do it. We’re putting off painting until we retire, which may never happen, even if we live that long.

How did we get to this modern machine which, in the name of efficiency and economies of scale, grew so large that instead of feeding us, we are feeding it? More importantly, how do we scale it down without destroying us all?

How to Take Criticism

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 05 Jun 2014 03:31:00 +0000

Be as humble in victory as in defeat.

This week one of my novels won an award, but I did not attend the ceremony. I'd like to say I eschew popular support or that I write for arts' sake or some similar nonsense. No. The truth is, I avoided it. I am very grateful for the selection and pleased that someone not only read my work but was inspired to an opinion. That said, the only way to weather the manic storm of infamy is to watertight both bow and stern against the spittle of the masses.

Authorship is self-motivational. Seldom are we asked to retire from humanity for the lengthy production of speculative work. No, we bring it on ourselves and, whether tortuous or fair, some part of us believes the exercise worthwhile, either for our own benefit or the edification of our peers. I believe the concise word is 'conceit'. For that reason, the best thing that can happen to any author is

a bad review. Some authors are luckier than others in that regard. Negative reviews offer a welcome respite from our swollen craniums and aching smiles.

I’d like to thank my own detractors, for example:

“The problem with the book is quite simple really, it lacked depth. It is not a great book, but to be above all the ballyhoo if you will, it's an ok book.”

The blow softens when your detractor is visibly less literate than your intended audience, but it stings nonetheless. Or this comment from a reviewer who stopped before it got good:

“This is a first novel, and in my opinion, after reading the first 25 pages, it shows.”

Ouch. That hurts. More importantly, this reviewer is correct. I know the first two chapters are dull because I found them dull to write. My mistake was in leaving them that way.

I'd like to say criticism makes us stronger, but our egos preclude dissent. The best we can do is to assimilate. A novel must be all good, not in parts but in whole. Every word must be our best. How sad when our best and our deadlines do not coincide, but such is commerce.

To close, let me relate S. R. Crockett's tale of "The Heather Lintie". I take it for granted you've not heard of this tale, written, as it were, in 1896. I am fond of novels written before 1917, but I wouldn't recommend them. You'll find within those pages your own half-written manuscript, completed, and succinctly plotted, with wit and art that exceeds you birthright.

Aging spinster Janet Balchrystie dreamt of immortality as a poet. She submitted a new poem each week to the county paper which printed it in distilled form after a proper edit by the senior office boy “to cut down, tinker the rhymes, and lop any superfluity of feet.” Nevertheless, it pleased her to see her name in print, though the bulk of her work remained locked in an attic trunk.

At last she gathered her courage and resources to self-publish her scribbled tomes. Once published, she waited for the recognition of the world. The book landed in the hands of a junior reporter in the city who, being a clever wag in a lowly rag, set his pen against her. His excoriating critique began with “This is a book which may be a genuine source of pride to every native of the province of Galloway.” These were the words she read with bliss that night, promising herself to read the remainder in the morning. He then went on to belittle her as a country oddity with a style comparable to a travelling circus. This part she never read.

She died in the night.

“God is more merciful than man.”

Five Promotion Mistakes Writers Make

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 05 Apr 2014 15:18:00 +0000

Now more than ever, all authors must self-promote in order to survive. But how do you do that without irritating your audience? Here are five things to watch out for:

Self-promotion on Twitter. One word. Don’t. This holds for any form of social media. Too often, you see writers who only tweet like this: “This is my favorite sentence from my book! Buy it here: bitly/xy123”. If I wanted ads in my feed, I’d go to Facebook. Twitter is a way to connect and build an audience. To do that, you need to post something the reader finds interesting.

Readers should get to know you, understand your thought process, or follow your life. Readers love to know the mind behind the book. You’re a self-styled celebrity so act like one! Tweet about you - your day, your inspiration, your failures, your love - and your audience will connect. If they like what you tweet, they'll seek out your book. As a side note, many authors are publishing their tweets in anthologies. I don’t think anyone will buy an anthology of “My character is so cool! Buy my book: bitly/xy123”

Staying Home: Books are like colds. They spread only by contact. Yes, you write alone, but you need to meet people or else you don't exist. The next time you suffer writer's block, go to a mixer. Every Better Business Bureau has one. Ask people their personal stories. You might find your next story idea, or a your next main character. You might be bored out of your mind, driven to return home to write. Either way, let real life drive your art. Which leads us to your third mistake.

Hanging with Writer Friends. Writers are nice people to hang with. Talking shop with someone who understands is a relief sometimes. But writers shouldn’t be your only friends. If you get out of the house once a week and spend that time with writers, you might as well be in therapy. There are two reasons to see other people. One: strangers will think you’re cool when you say you’re a writer. Two: strangers might buy your book. When you pitch your book to a writer, you're not only preaching to the choir, you’re in the third row with a hymnal. Get out and meet people nothing like you. Join the Rotary Club or volunteer at a senior center. Not only will they think you’re cool, you won't have to explain otherwise.

Optimism: Let’s get this out of the way now: No one cares about you or your book. Set aside your brilliance or at least your expectation that others will find you brilliant. It’s one thing to believe in your work. It’s another to be genuinely shocked when no one reads it. If your promotion starts at the point where you believe no one has heard about your book or you (because they haven't) then you have a realistic view of the work ahead.

Going it alone: Writing is like living in the Dark Ages. If you write alone in the wilderness, you will die. You need to form alliances, join groups who can help get your work out there. Beware! Writer’s circles, writing classes, and reading groups are self-deluding dead ends. Everyone is there for the same reason you are - to be heard. That usually means no one is listening. Instead, try volunteering at the local library to get insight into how libraries buy books like yours – and have a librarian promote you at readings and conferences. Join a booksellers organization. Become a publisher. Start a review blog. Anything you do to mix your work into a larger pool of authors is going to help get your name out there.

Now get out there. Not only will you find an audience for your work, but you’ll enrich your writing with real-life characters, situations, and drama. You might even have fun.

Contact

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 23 Oct 2013 14:52:00 +0000

Contact Info
I always welcome feedback, interview requests, fan mail, and free beer.
Email me: ronancray [at] gmail
Facebook: ronancray Like me to receive updates and events news.
Twitter: @ronancray
Pinterest: ronancray See photos that inspired my novels.

Need more?

Read these interviews:
Indie Author Land
Zigzag Timeline

Listen to this interview:
Writestream Radio

Watch this interview:
CCTV Interview

Read reviews of Red Sand here:
Ronan Cray Named Top 10 New Horror
Matt Molgaard, Horror Novel Reviews
Zigzag Timeline
Goodreads
Horrornews.net
Lucidity

Kickstarter Kicks My Ass

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 10 Oct 2013 01:39:00 +0000

Maybe you've heard of Kickstarter? It's the new diet and exercise program. You worry about pledges to the exclusion of eating and run around looking for donors. It's more grueling than a zombie 5K. But don't take my word for it. Read my recent post over at The Scrib!

Setting a World Record

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 06 Oct 2013 20:51:00 +0000

This wasn't the first time I felt nude in public.

I worked my way through college, and one of the most demeaning jobs I took was a mascot for a casino. I sweated in a giant duck costume like a deep sea diver, making my way through the casino to promote a new gaming machine. I couldn't see anything through the mask, so someone led me through the narrow aisles between ringing slot and poker machines. Old men pinched my tail feathers, convinced only a woman would take such a job. Anyone shorter than me got tripped over. At the end of the day, they thanked me politely for my time, paid me, and said I didn't need to return tomorrow.

So it wasn't without experience that I donned another costume to appear in public. This experience was much better.

I participated in the New Jersey Zombie Walk 2013 in Asbury Park. The Guinness Book of World Records was on hand to officially announce it the largest gathering of zombies in the world. 9,592 zombies stalked the boardwalk in gleaming artificial blood, flaking latex, and gore. The variety was stunning.

I wore the suit that best approximates the Eaters in the video game of our Kickstarter. Their skin rotted off, they look like something out of the Bodies Exhibit.

The response took me totally off guard.

They loved it! Everyone wanted a picture with me. Other zombies stopped to take my picture. Old people said, "Oh my god!" Teenage girls tittered, thinking they'd just seen a naked man. A security guard almost stopped me for nudity. Well, I was nude. I had no skin. As I say in the book, "Beauty is only skin deep. That's why zombie's are so damn ugly!"

The paparazzi-style attention didn't appeal to me. As a writer, I'd rather be back in my dark hole. Still, there is something to say for attention. Right now, I'm trying to drum up attention for the Kickstarter campaign, so getting in front of the public is essential.

If you missed it, you'll get a chance to see it yourself. Come to New York ComicCon. I'll be standing outside. Feel free to take my picture.

I'll be the nude guy.

Dust Eaters Kickstarter LIVE

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 24 Sep 2013 00:18:00 +0000

Back in college I ran for Student Senate. Voter turnout was low the previous years, so I set a goal: win more votes than the highest voted person last year. I had no campaign manager, no team, nothing. I spoke in front of auditoriums filled with students, published articles in the school paper, inked out hand made signs based on Burma Shave ads paced out to and from the stadium and library.
The result?

Success! I beat last year's highest count by one vote!
But...
I lost the election.
I did such a great job selling the election that my competitors also enjoyed record turnout.
So which was I? A winner or a loser?
I'm thinking about that this week as I gear up for my Kickstarter campaign. Crazy Robot Games, maker of Infinity Project 2, has agreed to turn my next book, Dust Eaters, into a fantastic new video game. To do so, we need to raise $50,000.
Kickstarter is all or nothing. I don't want history to repeat itself, run a fantastic campaign, galvanize people behind a common goal, and then fall dollars short.
As a writer of nightmares, this is mine.
So this is my personal entreaty. Work with me. Help me attain my goal. Because this time, with your support, I'm a winner.
Thank you.

Why We Need Horror

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 29 Aug 2013 18:55:00 +0000

I often question the worth of the words I write. Does the world really need another gruesome horror novel? I look at writers like Nicholas Sparks and think, the world needs more writers like that, stories with romance and tension without death and carnage. The world is a tough, brutal place that needs a little light now and then.
A that's the problem.

The world is not a tough place. In fact, it's a ridiculously easy, sanitary, kind, and healthy place. Those of us lucky to live in modern cities enjoy a standard of living unheard of even among emperors and kings. Cheap food, cheap clothes, indoor environments, civic law, stellar health care that has doubled our life expectancy, and nearly unlimited access to information broaden our hearts and minds in ways our ancestors couldn't dream. We almost have nothing to complain about.
But we do. Incessantly. We moan and groan and whine. We're bored, our house isn't big enough, we never have enough money, and other people don't recognize what brilliant and charming people we are. We feel entitled to perfection.
As I dive into my research, I see another side to the world.
Lacking first-hand knowledge, I have to look up grim methods of death and destruction. It might not be cheery, but I find it fascinating and sad, a part of life we seldom discuss. Today I looked up the symptoms, treatments, and first-hand accounts of starvation. What I found instead under the words 'starvation' and 'starving' were diet fads and complaints. "I've been dieting for three days and I'm starving!"
On another search I needed to find the symptoms, treatments, and first-hand accounts of drowning. What I found was a scientific justification for the use of drowning in capital punishment written in 1878. I didn't know that drowning was one of the preferred methods for disposing of criminals for centuries!
These individual discoveries trouble me in ways it is difficult to describe. With the loss of perspective comes the loss of compassion. When we don't recognize what could be, we don't appreciate what is. We have become so safe in our modern world that we are in danger of losing compassion. How can we begin to understand the suffering of others if we've never sacrificed ourselves? How will we find compassion when something does go wrong? How can we understand a difficult life when our lives are not difficult?
This is deeper than obese people unashamed to describe their hunger as starvation. It is a blatant loss of perspective.
Read the article on the the painlessness of drowning. It will chill you, but you'll find yourself saying, "Thank goodness we don't do that anymore." But we do, don't we? Capital punishment is still in force. Is it any less barbaric? Can the vengeful loss of life be anything but barbaric?
Like life, capital punishment is sanitised. A needle in the arm puts you to sleep instead of a noose or a guillotine. But a silent, gentle death detracts from the value of life. We no longer draw and quarter criminals, but we still kill them.
This might sound like a left-wing diatribe urging you to stop the death penalty and feed Africa. Frankly, I don't care what your personal convictions are. What I care about is the blindness we have, as a society, for the dark side. We waste what is scarce, we work long hours but accomplish little, we set aside "family time" because it no longer happens naturally, and we take drugs for depression because we don't know how to connect to other humans.
Horror gives that back. When written well, we see firsthand, experience vicariously, the dark troubles of the world. We recognize that life is fragile, a temporary gift. We see that deep companionship can exist where all other comforts disappear.
When you close the book or the credits roll, you are a survivor. Your house feels warmer, your food tastier, your love deeper.
For me, the horror I read makes me more forgiving of those petty insults I daily suffer.
When I wrote my first book I happily killed people off.
In my second, I pause.
Something has changed. I, a card carrying misanthrope, feel sorry for them, for fictional characters. Even worse, that translates beyond the page. I've started to feel compassion for real people.
It's a brave new world.
I hope you feel the same way.
If not, it might at least give you the courage to diet.

Read Dust Eaters Prologue

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 16 Jul 2013 03:06:00 +0000

Dear readers,
As I slave away at my next novel, I have to wonder, "Is this any good, or am I indulging in my own little fantasy?" Frankly, I can answer that question myself, but your opinion is equally valid. So I posted the Prologue and Chapters 1 and 2 on Wattpad. I hope you'll do me the favor of providing excruciating, excoriating feedback. What good is horror without a little discomfort, even for the author?
Cheers!
Ronan Cray

The Haunted Hotel

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 10 Jul 2013 02:58:00 +0000

With the exception of the Grand Hyatt in Taipei, this weekend marked the first time I knowingly stayed in a haunted hotel.
Located in Callicoon, New York, on the banks of the Delaware River, The Western Hotel is said to be haunted by the ghost of Laura Darling Kahl. In 1921, she was shot to death on the front steps by her husband, the hotel's bartender. Her parents owned the hotel at the time. Ever since, sightings at the hotel
support the idea that her spirit lingers.
In operation since 1852, the Western has been the scene of not one, but two murders, including one most recent. On April 13th, 2008, at 12:30 in the morning, a bar patron and championship shooter began chatting with Joe Naughton, the Western's owner. Lori Schubeler, a waitress, leaned against the bar as Naughton showed off his collection of antique and personal firearms. While handling an unregistered, semi-automatic, .25-caliber handgun, Naughton accidentally discharged it. The bullet hit Schubeler in the aorta and lung, killing her.
None other than Joe Naughton met me at the door. He spent six months in prison and is still on probation for the shooting. He wanted the money up front, in cash. As he handed over the key, his oblique comment stuck with me. "The door opens out, so you're never trapped in the hotel." As if, for some, escaping might be desirable.
When we reached the room on the third floor, my son mentioned he had lots of books about ghosts. Mr. Naughton stopped. "Maybe I shouldnt' tell you," he said. "about Laura Kahl." He stopped again and shook his head.
Of course, we already knew, which was why he had the books on ghosts.
The thermometer read 85 degrees before we turned on the air conditioner. If ghosts produce cold spots, I welcomed dozens. I no longer hoped Ms. Kahl appeared for any other reason.
The slanted bed threatened to spill me on the floor. My back ached minutes after crawling in. On the plus side, I was afforded multiple opportunities to scan the room for ghosts as I woke up every half hour in discomfort.
No ghosts. No cold spots.
While the hotel added two spirits, it lost its liquor license. Fortunately, Callicoon Brewing Company opened a bar next door with ice cold drafts. The night was not a total loss!
On leaving the next morning, as we waved goodbye to Mr. Naughton, I spotted the most mysterious sign. Seems the Western is for sale.
Takers?

Don't Blog Drunk II

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 17 May 2013 23:19:00 +0000

Most people believe they live at the end of history. They are the pinnacle of evolution. every thought a miracle. In action how like an angel. In apprehension how like a god.
Not me.
I see us at the middle of history. At the beginning, when I'm cynical. The world holds no wonder for me. We have so much ahead of us. The evolution of man. the ascention of man. what is this quintessence of dust? All those fucking beautiful things i will not see. i'll be dead.
the brilliance of a new world. The correction of all wrongs currently suffered. New wrongs to conquer. A world our primitive mind cannot imagine, any more than the mind of Christ our world today.
all that is modern is ancient history, antiquated, arcane. We live in a world that will soon be oudated, better, more efficient, happier, and more real.
Perhaps I'm a product of modernity. We change phones, houses, cars, jobs, styles, faster and faster. We hunt for the new, the better, the faster, the lovelier, the younger. We value so little, and why should we, knowing the future holds something even better if we just wait, a little, for it.
The result? What is there to be proud of, to enjoy, to covet, to value?
That is the crux. While others search for meaning, i search for value. The meaning of life: there is none. The value - that of an antique.
I won't be there to see it.
Neither will you.
What do we do with this expired present, this past happening now?
Live?

How To Be A Man - 8 Traits of Real Men

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 14:36:00 +0000

Ever wonder how to be a man? It isn't easy to find realistic advice these days. Glossy magazines push luxury products to dress us up, movies give us unrealistic impressions, our day jobs suck our manhood dry. In all that noise, it's a relief to find a site dedicated to real men, real issues, and real results. Check out my latest post on How to Be A Man on the great blog Fearless Men.

The path isn't easy, but that's why so few walk it.

How to Win the Self-Publishing Revolution!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 02:44:00 +0000

Thanks to Ampren7a on DeviantArt

In every revolution there are quick wins and impossible walls, and self-publishing is no exception. That wall stands solidly on the line between the digital and physical realms, and, like any medieval construction, there are defenders and gatekeepers. I don’t know them by name, yet, but I do know the job descriptions. Let me introduce you...

The Problem: Publishers

I self-published. There. I said it. Like most authors, I was frustrated by the traditional method of publishing. It goes something like this:

1. You send in a manuscript and wait months for someone to review it and get back to you. They get angry if you send it to more than one company, but it could take 100 submissions to find a publisher. A little math: (100 divided by… carry the one…) yeah, lucky to publish one book per lifetime.

2. “What’s your platform?” That’s the first question a publisher asks. They don’t care if the book is good, what it’s about, or if you wrote the manuscript on a toilet paper roll in one sitting. They want to know how many people you, the author, can bring to it. Reality check: if you had time to write a book, you probably aren’t the most outgoing person. Long periods of fictional introspection trumps social advancement on your calendar. Publishers want the impossible – a popular writer, a contradiction if I ever heard one. (aka. "Why ghost writers exist")

3. Let’s say you convince them you are such a writer, and they publish you.

Hurrah! So what? You are author #476 on their to-do list. They print a few books, drop them on the shelves like chum in the sea and, one month later, give up on you as a complete failure. The marketing is up to you. Who do you know that can get you reviews, interviews, radio time, signings, tours, exposure? What’s that? You’re a creative genius who drinks at home, alone, and only associates the word ‘Friends’ with a sitcom? Too bad. Watch that belabored cover design torn from your masterpiece. Kiss your beloved characters goodbye as your book heads right to the pulper.

The Solution: Self-Publishing

Thanks to the internet, the self-published writer can overcome all three of these hurdles with a few deft mouse clicks. Smashwords your way into ebooks everywhere! Createspace your manuscript on demand! Email it instantly to reviewers! Churn out your marketing from the comfort of your blog-cave!

So you do all that, and then you wait. And wait. You check Amazon. Your book ranks in numbers you made up as a child. Bazillion gajillion something. You sold two books, both of which, you suspect, to your mother. You check your various royalty programs. They’re not high enough to send you a check in this millennium. Even your acquaintances, incredibly supportive and impressed at your achievement, did not get around to downloading their free versions yet.

Published? Yes.

Read? No.

Writer, meet Wall. Wall, Writer.

The Wall: or, the Real World

The old saying, “It takes money to make money,” is no less true in modern publishing than it was anywhere else. Consider this: UNESCO estimates 330,000 new books are published every year in America. The average reader reads 6 to 15 books per year (24 for ereaders). Factor out fiction vs. nonfiction, genres, and the most popular authors in those genres (*cough stephen king cough*), and it’s a safe bet your book isn’t one of the six. Even if we discount the entire backlist, that gives you less than a 1:100,000 chance to connect with your reader. (Dammit, Jim! I’m writer not a mathematician!)

The result: self-publishing is a one-pebble path to obscurity.

It gets worse the higher your ambitions. Meet the Gatekeepers:

Gatekeeper: Bookstores

Getting that self-published novel on bookshelves isn’t as easy as it sounds. Bookstores categorically reject three things: self-published titles, print-on-demand titles, and you. Backlists, those powerful titans with over a year on the shelves, account for 68 percent of bookstore sales. Most of the remaining percentage goes to new bestselling authors. Which one are you? Oh, yeah, neither. So why would the bookstore stock you at all? Assuming you manage the impossible, getting your title in a bookstore narrows down the competition to only a few hundred competitors, all conveniently located on the shelves around you. The good news is, you’re automatically associated with good company. The bad news is… who are you, anyway? Why would I read you when my favorite author just published his formulaic potboiler?

Gatekeeper: Distributors

Contrary to popular opinion, bookstores don’t buy their books from publishers. They buy them from Distributors. Guess who Distributors refuse to carry? Yada yada yada. Can you get your book distributed without a publisher? Fat chance. Why? Distributors pick and choose from a publisher's catalogue of titles. They also tend to focus on specific categories: cookbooks, for example. Distributors have enough books to choose from, thank you very much, without wasting valuable time looking at your piddly contribution.

Gatekeeper: Reviewers

Who needs bookstores and distributors? If you can get that one influential reviewer (*cough oprah cough*), the one with a major following on newspaper, radio, magazine, or television, you’ll be in like Flint, right?

Sadly, no. High profile reviewers didn’t get that way by promoting crappy little novels from no-names. Fame begets fame. Take a walk in their shoes. You’re not in bookstores. Why would they recommend a book that no one can run out and buy? If this were a book title, it's Catch-22. You need to be in bookstores to get reviews, but you need reviews to get in bookstores. It’s more difficult than a time-travel paradox.

Why we need Gatekeepers

In two words: Crappy Authors (Not you, of course)

Why are there gatekeepers? Because we need them! Of course, YOUR book is pure gold. YOUR book has no typos, deep character development, and draws in readers like an Elvis resurrection. If only that were true of all the rest.

A few years ago a fellow from the office said, “I just finished my book and published it online. Could you read it and tell me what you think?” Not only was English not his first language, resulting in the misallocation of alphabets, but his thoughts were so nonsensical and disordered as to be French New Wave. I avoided him after that, but I had a whole new understanding of publishers’ collective value.

The Problem Redefined: Publishers Don’t Need Writers

The publishing industry could survive just fine without us. They could stop publishing new authors or titles altogether and still mint cash from their backlist. They could contemporize forgotten old stories (“He grabbed her and danced the ~~rumba~~ Brooklyn Shake ~~until 8~~ all night.”), or even train computers to churn out Dan Brown sequels. Writers, even good ones, are a dime a dozen, literally. Every hack in English Lit dreams of writing the next American dust collector. Every Joe Out of a Job thinks it’s time to tackle that novel.

The Solution: The Defenders! Viva la Revolucion!

Us authors need to stick together. Let’s form a writer’s collective. Why re-invent the wheel, individually, breaking into such a tough industry? If we band together, our combined research will further the cause! If I find a friendly reviewer, I’ll pass that on to you. If you find a book printer in China, you’ll get me a good price. If I find a bookstore that features self-published authors, I’ll help you get on that shelf. No one else will do it for us, and the more we share, the more access we each enjoy.

So now we have bookstores and reviewers. What about distributors?

Distributors require a discount of 50% or more so that they, and their retailers, make some income. (Real estate, shipping, and staff is expensive). In order to get our books into a distributor, we need to print big volumes – 3,000 to start. Even printing in China, that’s $3,500 after shipping.

So, here’s the business case, assuming you did everything else yourself (editing, cover design): Paperback Retail: $12.00 minus standard discount for retailers or distributors: 60% (or more). Minus printing: $1.00. Minus shipping $1.50. = $2.30 profit, if you can call it that after nine months of work.

Viva la Revolucion!

We value you as a writer so our collective will do all the printing and administrative stuff. Of course, that costs money, so we’ll take a small cut. We only need $1.00 per book. That’s not much, but we’ll make it work. You‘re still making $1.30 per book!

Viva la Revolucion!

Sure, we’re a writer’s collective, but we can’t blow our earnings on every author that stumbles in. Unless they want to spend their own cash, we have to be careful. We have to be selective. Let’s start reading those manuscripts before we help them out.

Wow! We’re getting a lot of manuscripts. Let’s recruit some readers to do it for us. Whatever emerges out of the slush pile, we’ll read through. That could take time, so let’s tell authors it’ll be three months to review.

Viva la.. waitaminit… this sounds oddly familiar.
The more writers we support, the more competition we have as individual writers! Pretty soon, that bookstore I told you all about doesn't have room for my book. Those reviewers are too busy to read mine. The more revolutionaries we enlist, the harder the revolution gets!

Send us your book anyway. We'll make it work. But please, please don’t send it to anyone else. We’d hate to waste our time. We’ll get back to you in three to six months.

Sincerely,

The Wall

Ronan Cray Takes Manhattan!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 02:28:00 +0000

If you happen to duck into St. Mark's Bookshop in Manhattan; if you happen to browse the Mystery section for the likes of Robin Cook, Michael Connelly, and Harlan Coben; and if you find yourself staring into the eye of a hurricane, it's your lucky day! You just found a signed, first edition copy of Red Sand. That's right, Red Sand is now available in stores!




St. Marks took the lead in stocking Red Sand. Many more race to fill their shelves. It flies with superheroes at Forbidden Planet this week.Logos geared up on Saturday. 
Not to be left out, Brooklyn represents. Spoonbill scooped up their copies. Word got a sneak peek.

It's been a pleasant showing of support by independents for independents. For my part, I'm happy to give readers a local alternative to Amazon. As an added incentive, I sign all local copies. If you want yours with a personal note, let your bookseller know. I'll drop it off, just for you. 

Here's to the next beginning. Cheers!

Kickstarter with Emma Larkins and Mechalarum

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 02 Mar 2013 00:42:00 +0000

How often do you get a drink named after your book? For Emma Larkins that moment came last week as she launched her Kickstarter campaign. The Mechalarum, a supreme green concoction mixed exclusively at Chelsea Manor in New York City, launched her guests into outer space just as she launched her effort to publish the book of the same name. Check out her seductive video and pitch in a few tenners here.

Like most self-published authors, a little help is always appreciated. She’s looking for an editor and a cover artist. If that’s you, give her a call. If it’s not, make a pledge to help her get one.

We had a great turnout for the event. She had a bonus guest, yours truly. I never turn down an opportunity for a signing. I met a lot of great people. Thank you to all my friends, old and new, who showed up. Cheers!

What is the Zombie Death Toll?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 06:09:00 +0000

Day 1
In a city like Shanghai, with 24 million people, 570 people die every day. Let's assume for the sake of argument that whatever causes zombies (alien slime, radioactive water, bacteria) has infected everyone in the city, so whoever dies turns into a zombie. That makes the math easy. That's 570 undead on day one.
Let's say each of them manages to kill, or cause to be killed, one person. Not greedy. You know, loved ones, neighbors, innocent bystanders.
The "cause to be killed" part is crucial because over a few days the death toll leads to mobs, riots, supply chain disruption, fires, anarchy, military crackdowns, martial law.... you get the picture. But I'm getting ahead of myself. On day two:

Day 2
570 more people die of natural causes, in addition to the 570 undead plus their 570 victims. Day two total: 1,710 dead. By this math, a city the size of Shanghai would fall in fifteen days.The world, assuming zombies enjoy frequent flier miles, in 23 days.

"But wait," you say. "That math is overly simplistic. Birth rates are three times as high as death rates."
Sure, even in the madness, babies are born. They went into production nine months before the apocalypse. So why don't we count them? Well... c'mon. Even if they lived through the entire apocalypse, that would make them 23 days old. The most popular baby name in the world? "Dessert."

"We're not going to stand around and get eaten," you say. "We'll fight!!!"
Okay, so we'll factor in the resistance. After all, one healthy human downs dozens of undead a day.
Without an existing database, calculations may vary, so let's ask this question first: Who is doing the killing?

Day 3
Here's the rub. For the first few days, those critical days, people will ignore the problem. They will go to work. They will go shopping. They will think about cancelling Tupperware parties, daydream about their future life as a millionaire, and proceed as planned. They will drive to Grandma's house to see if she's ok. (She's not. She's eating you.) Keep calm and carry on.

What did you do during the swine flue epidemic? How long was it before you headed for the hills? I imagine you never did. Which is why zombies would win.

Time is ticking. The landmark paper "Critical Response Time" by Rivas et al studied the spread of foot and mouth disease in Brazil. It indicated that the effective reproduction number must be less than one in order for an infection to die out. Therefore, a critical response time must prevent one zombie from killing one human.
Here's the catch. In no previous study has death lead to an increase in the disease. Typically when a host dies, so does the virus, bacteria, or parasite. In zombies, the exact opposite happens. This inverts all prior study. To prevent its spread, you must keep every patient alive. This is a difficulty when the prime driver is the natural death rate. In this case, death itself is the disease.

So let's say it takes a few days for the world to wake up. What would they do with the undead patients? Cure them? Result: rapid hiring in the health care field. Restrain them? Result: prison guards with Wall Street size signing bonuses. Call in the military? But they're still alive, like coma patients. What rights to they have? All of them! Without an end-of-life agreement signed and notarized, the first soldier to fire could be sued back to the stone age.
This is why developed nations would be the source of the greatest outbreaks. Military dictatorships fare better, lacking legal and moral protection.

Day 9
Eventually, around day nine, when society cracks and there's no more reality television to watch, the survivors flee, facilitating traffic accidents, lethal territorial disputes, resource hoarding, and a general contribution to extinction. Let's just say days 9 through 12 will require decades to sort out the appropriate Darwin Award winner.

Day 13
Eventually the lucky few hunker down and barricade themselves in. Here our number count drops from "exponential" to "steady", but by then there are upwards of six million zombies in Shanghai. One billion worldwide, if this were a global event. It's a safe bet our survivors die of starvation, disease, and dehydration within two weeks. Worst of all, as soon as one shut-in dies, they present a problem to the rest.

But I digress. The original question was, who, specifically, would take an active role in killing zombies?
The answer: the same people who march against regimes in Egypt, start the Russian revolution, and hang around Zuccotti Park for months on end - students. More specifically, unemployed college age men. What percentage of the population is that? In the US that's about 375,000, give or take. Remember, everyone else has school and work to attend.

In our original test city, Shanghai, 178,000 college graduates emerge into the daylight every summer. Zombies outnumber them by day eight. By day nine, those students are eating brains, not filling them.

As for the rest of us? Logarithmically, by the time we get around to reaching for the crowbar, it's already too late. The good news is, if you survive that long, there are no lines at the Apple store.

How do Zombies Taste?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 14:29:00 +0000

Bitten by zombies? Bite back! Harcos Labs found a way to disinfect festering zombie parts and transform them into tasty snacks. What better way to amble through the zombie apocalypse than munching on a bag of Zombie Skin? Have a hankering for beef jerky? Snap into a Zombie! Need trail food? Zombie toenails make a crunchy treat. Thirsty? Nothing satisfies like detoxified zombie blood. They munched on your friends. Time to return the favor, but remember: revenge is a dish best served cold.
*nom nom nom*

Name This Book

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 16:02:00 +0000

I need your help to name my next book! It’s a zombie adventure with an ensemble cast that takes place around the world (no, not like World War Z. okay, maybe a little). The project is currently called “Dust Eaters”, but maybe something else is better.

Vote for your favorite on Twitter by typing in “ @ronancray #title “ or comment here or on my Facebook page. Thanks for your help!
(Is that right? I’m not too good at Twitter)

Here are the titles I’m considering, and why.

Dust Eaters
The Waiting Dead
Kings of the Apocalypse

Pros/Cons:

Dust Eaters
Pros: No known titles similarly named. Refers to, “Eat my dust”, cause they’re slow, and the characters refer to zombies as Eaters.
Cons: Evocative? Makes you want to read it? Meh.

The Waiting Dead
Pros: Has the word “Dead”. Sounds like “The Walking Dead”. A new way to describe being a zombie
Cons: Has the word “Dead”. Sounds like “The Walking Dead”. “Waiting” isn’t a compelling word for an action book.

Kings of the Apocalypse
Pros: Sounds kick-ass.
Cons: Hard to spell when searching for the book. Long. Sexist, considering the main character is a woman.

No Mulligans in Life

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 22 Jan 2013 01:57:00 +0000

My Grandfather on the Ranch

We live and learn. We die and forget. Such a shame that all that accumulated knowledge and experience should disappear. In everything we do, we make mistakes, learn from them, and (hopefully) do better next time, but in life there is no next time. Or is there?

What if some medical breakthrough allows us a do-over, maybe places our brain inside a cultivated young body or rejuvenates the cells to youth or allows us to live forever (which, even at 100, would make us remarkably young)? What would you do differently?

I'm damn near forty as I write this. My midlife crisis is a doozy. To say the least, I took the wrong track somewhere and wound up at the wrong destination. “The years teach us much the days never knew,” says Emerson. What will you do with that knowledge, or, as another poet asked:

If you could start your life from scratch

Rewind time and still go back

What would you change in the way that you live today

And what would you leave right where it's at?
-Mase "From Scratch"

Here's what I should have done:

1. Work hardest in youth. The most damaging information parents give: "Let kids be kids." until this century, children were small adults who worked their asses off. They had chores at two, ran the farm at eight, married at twelve, and had their own little helpers by eighteen. Today, an education is far more important than feeding the chickens at the crack of dawn, so it shouldn’t be taken for granted. Take education seriously. Get into the best college you can. Win awards. Earn certificates. Put initials after your name and awards in your portfolio. Life will not provide you with so much financial and free time again.

2. Go into finance. In the old days, men hunted mastodons. They understood how mastodons think, the better to trap them. They knew where the watering holes and migration paths lay. They knew where to thrust a spear for the quickest death. Men learned the scent of mastodon droppings. They knew which hunters to bring along, what their specialties were, and where to place them in the hunt. Men who knew their prey always had meat. In a world where boolean logic supplants the spear, money is the only prey. Chase it down, learn its habits, find out where it likes to congregate. All other professions are abstract.

3. Value Family and Friends above all else. It may first appear that this contradicts the last two. It does not. Even when you're working hard, you have down time. Spend every second with people you enjoy, people who love and respect you. Time spent alone is time spent dead.

Maybe you have no regrets. Maybe you answer Mase the same way Meeno did:

If I could start life from scratch, I wouldn't change shit

Same gun, same clip, same dumb bitch

All Out, Harlem World, same old clique

Same old studio, same old shit

Shit don't change

Which may be true, but change is the only hope we have in a long (but all too short) life. Consider Strom Thurmond. Dude lived to be 101 years old, but he didn’t go into politics until he was 31 years old, after a career as a teacher, coach, and lawyer. He stayed in office as a Senator for almost 50 years.

Or my friend, Tim. He was a teacher until he was 39, at which point he decided to be a lawyer. He’s been a lawyer now for thirty years.

Looking back on the list, I'm free to start all of it right now. The moral is: don’t wait for the scientists. It’s never too late for a mulligan - until you're dead. Whatever it is you think you need to do, go do it. You’ve still got another fifty years. That’s a lifetime.

Life is a Circus

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 14:32:00 +0000

What are you looking at?

Life is a one-ring circus.

When you were young, the circus brought joy and wonder and amazement. You marveled at animals right out of storybooks. You gasped when beautiful women defied death through the air. You cried with laughter at colorful clowns. Invincible strongmen gave you hope. Magicians made you believe.

Then you aged. Every night, from the same uncomfortable seat, through the same tired acts, you see a different show.

You don't laugh at the clown after you learned he's suicidal.
The trapeze artist slept with you, and everyone else.
One drunken night, the magician betrayed his tricks.
The elephants don't remember the veldt.
The fire breather spits mineral oil.
The strong man cries at night.
The tigers have no claws.
The ringleader is a brutal jerk.

Worst of all, they've learned your faults as well. Even in the dark, you feel them watching you.

You pity the people around you, so easily amused. You recall older acts, better acts, but no one listens.

You want to leave, find a new circus, start over, but you know, you know, every circus, in every town, will, over time, mirror this one.

Every night you buy a paper ticket and take your seat.
Every morning you worry they won't give you one this time.
You go. You go.
It's the only show on earth.

Judge a Book by its Cover

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 16:58:00 +0000

Go ahead. Judge a book by its cover. Distill years of work into three seconds. If the name on the spine didn’t sell you, why spend more time on it? You still have to READ the book, so the less time spent in the store, the better. Ever your humble servant, I spent thirty seconds of my own to recommend ten books, in descending order, based on my own assumptions of the title, none of which I have read. It begins with a question…Click Here to read it on The Scrib.

How to use Formulas for Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 27 Dec 2012 04:51:00 +0000

How to Write, Part III

How to use Formulas for Writing

With an infinite range of characters and plots, how do you consistently make the storytelling interesting for the reader? Think about a scientific book about the first trip to the moon. The most amazing event of mankind! A feat of engineering genius! The pinnacle of evolution! Yet, your eyes droop, your mind wanders, you reach for the remote. No plot is compelling in its own right. What matters is how it’s told.

Over the years, I've noted some of the techniques other authors use to spruce up their stories, plots, and character development. You’ll forgive me if I make as many film references as I do novels. Scriptwriters are writers too, and in many ways even more attuned to keeping an audience enthralled. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Fail First: Big failures before success. Small successes before a big failure. It isn’t interesting when a plan goes as planned. Unforeseen setbacks, and the solutions our hero finds for them, make a plot much more realistic. There should be a minimum of two, preferably three, events that set the character up for disappointment. If the plan fails three times, the reader will root for them to keep trying. If it succeeds three times, the reader will either sympathize when it fails or revel in our hero’s crushed ego. Either way, the reader becomes vested in the outcome and willing to read on.

The best failures tie back into early story events. Use a situation that remains unresolved early on, forgotten, but then rears its ugly head at worst possible moment. In the beginning, Lassy escapes the dog-catcher due to a flat tire on the impound truck. Later, just as Lassy runs to tell Timmy’s mom that Timmy fell in the well, the dogcatcher reappears and captures her. An overzealous cop arrests our hero for a warrant on parking tickets when he’s out to save the world, that sort of thing. The problem should also be dramatically inferior to the problem our hero is trying to resolve, bind the hero completely for a short time, leaving the reader in complete suspense just as they thought the story almost over.

2. Into the Fire: Each solution leads to a new, and possibly worse, problem. Think of Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom. He escapes the bad guys by hopping a plane… owned by the bad guys. When they crash the plan, he escapes in life raft… onto the side of a mountain. The boat slides down a mountain into a river… in the middle of hostile territory. This is almost as much fun for the author as it is for the audience. It keeps everyone on their toes and adds a little variety. It’s a great way to drive a plot, or drive your character nuts.

3. Background Action: Every scene has two story lines running, one in the foreground and one in the background. J.K. Rowling uses this in the Harry Potter books. You might have the characters discussing their big plans in the foreground, while in the background a cat and mouse chase each other, a ghost frightens other students, various mishaps occur. Usually these do not interrupt the main story line, or even play a necessary role in the story. They do, however, add comic relief, action, and tension without tasking the main characters.

4. Who Else is Here? The world is full of other creatures, all intelligent, all scheming toward their own success. Your character won’t realistically get through any plot without bumping into other plots. Maybe the superhero can’t go catch criminals today because his kids have a school recital. Maybe our hero misses her first big date with her lifelong crush because her boss makes her work late. Whatever it is, we’re surrounded by other plots. How those plots interweave through your own makes your world that much more realistic, adding tension and complications along the way. There’s another reason to think about this, though. How do you know you picked the right lead character? Maybe one of those other plot lines rightfully takes over the whole story! That leaves a lot of doors open for the writer.

5. Not Snakes! Your strong character has one insurmountable flaw. Flaws build character. Great flaws build great character, provided the author remembers. Robert E. Howard’s legendary Conan (the novels, not the governor of California) never felt comfortable around sorcery. He would plow through two dozen men with a laugh, but sorcerers gave him the heeby-jeebies. Anything he couldn’t cut with a sword made him queasy. It’s no wonder that nearly every story eventually pits him against dark magic. If you’re not challenging your characters, you’re not challenging your readers.

6. Location, Location, Location: In the past five years, five Academy Award films nominated for Best Picture took place during World War II.* If you think this is a coincidence, you’re missing the most important decision you will ever make for your story.

ANY story is more interesting when you have World War II behind it. We have such a clear notion of the great evils, the epic battles, the deep privation, that the most paper thin character gains instant depth. An etymologist struggling to save his beetle collection would win an academy award if it took place in Dresden during the fire bombings. It’s a pathetically easy technique to use. Best of all, every manner of everyday plot line took place during the war – love, death, births, family, horrors, science, you name it. Whatever you’re writing a book about, chances are you could set the same plot during World War II.

But let’s pretend for a moment that you don’t want to sell out. Say your characters are about to have a conversation that will break up their marriage. That could happen at home at the kitchen table, but it’s much more interesting if it happens in a drastically public location, preferably during a contrastingly happy event. Let’s talk about why.

Choose locations more carefully than plots, conversations, or even characters.

A conversation can take place anywhere, so think of the most interesting place for it to do so. Why? Your audience usually has a preconceived notion of a location. They understand what is “normal” there and what is obscene. After thousands of years of storytelling, you might as well let tropes work for you.

Ever notice how action movie conversations take place inside moving cars, strip clubs, or rusting factories? Because it makes the conversation more interesting! Did you see the movie Moneyball? Six old fat white guys sitting around a table talking. BORING! The same conversation could have been held, at the very least, on the field during a practice.

Try to pick places with other people to react to the events, other emotions to intrude, other action happening. It is fine to say, “I’m leaving you” at home. It’s a little more dramatic to say it in Rockefeller Center at Christmastime when your significant other is down on his knees proposing and the crowd is cheering. Let the setting make the scene. It’s so easy, it’s a shame not to make the effort.

Click for Writing Part I and Writing Part II

In fairness, I’ll share the notes I wrote for myself when I started Red Sand. I tried to remain faithful throughout the writing process. These are not a formula to follow directly, but to give you some food for thought on your own story. Most of all, keep writing!

Plot elements to keep in mind:

1. Speed. Things happen fast. - No bewitching words.

2. Rotate point of view as story necessitates – try to use chain events to facilitate this.

3. Allegiances shift in dangerous situations. This can be a plot twist or a betrayal.

4. No Repose, No comfort, No beauty

5. More descriptions, less dialogue. [I went the other way on this one, and glad I did. Dialogue drives action better than descriptions. When in doubt, let a person describe something verbally to the reader, the way doctors do during autopsies on crime shows.]

6. Damn the editors. We’re writing for the WB audience. Big words ok.

7. Use cliffhangers at the end of as many paragraphs as possible.

8. Resolving one problem always leads to another, worse problem. Out of the pan into the fire.

9. Overlap story lines as much as possible. There should always be a minimum of two series of events concurrent in every scene. The personal conflicts continue despite their surroundings. Stay in character.

10. Start each chapter somewhere else – back on the boat, or back on the mainland in their regular life – creates a fuller picture while adding tension by delaying the present action. Just when someone is wondering "What happens next?" you take them somewhere or somewhen else.

11. Use witty referential banter to establish personality. What do they say they care about?

12. Always enact an internal struggle between good and evil. We must think the characters have the potential to choose the wrong thing, even if they never do.

*War Horse, Inglorious Basterds, The Reader, Atonement, Letters from Iwo Jima

How to Escape from Zombies

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 02:23:00 +0000

How do you survive a zombie apocalypse? Are there any tricks you can learn before it happens? Are you ready?

An explosion in obstacle courses follows that age-old question: are all those hours in the gym making us any more competitive in a Darwinian sense? Joining Tough Mudder, Spartan Beast, and Warrior Dash is new kid on the block Run For Your Lives, a straight up 5K obstacle course with a twist of zombie. Like many keyboard pushers, I thought I'd test myself against the real undead.

Run for Your Lives complicates a 5K endurance obstacle course with ambling, flesh-eating zombies. To ensure realism, I did not train prior to the event. I haven't run 5 feet in as many years. When there's a fire, I'm the guy walking, not running, for the exits. I wanted to know if I could get up from my keyboard, off my pudgy ass, and run like hell if the occasion called for it.

Zombies called for it.

Picture, if you will, a mountain, complete with gorges, freezing lakes, dangerously sharp tree trunks, and rocky trails. Sprinkle in barbed wire, smoke, mudpits, and a house with faulty electrical wiring. Contemplate running through this with zombies sprinting after you.

I went for "Entree"

Yes, I know, zombies don't sprint. Neither do they hunger for brains. The event organizers did little research. Try to get past that.

We lined up in one of three tunnels labeled Appetizer, Entree, and Dessert. I was an Entree. A hungry zombie swarm waited for us on the other side. The first few steps were a bloodbath.

Here's how you die. The course follows the same rules as flag football if instead of steroid injected testosterone junkies you played against zombie infected evolution flunkies. Three red flags, tied to your waist, attract undead attention. When they capture all three flags, you join them.

I ran, I swam, I bobbed and weaved. My lungs begged for respite. My legs begged me to die. One way or another, I made it through to what had to be the end of the race. Then I saw the sign: 1 kilometer. I was 1/5th of the way there.

Even simulated, the chase pumps the adrenaline. These zombies, volunteers all, adopted the persona of playground bullies out to get a lifetime supply of lunch money. I found that intimidating enough without the gore dripping from their eye sockets.

I entered a focused state where nothing else mattered but survival. For the first time in years, my creative mind quieted as long unused regions took over - the amygdalae, the hypothalamus.

The part of my brain that didn't control desperate flailing movements observed that heroes die fast. Anyone rushing headlong into the throng got their bones picked.

Runners whispered "Safety in Numbers" before every obstacle. I ran with the pack, directly behind other suckers, uh, runners. I lost a flag when the runner ahead dodged right to reveal a waiting zombie. New plan!

Someone is probably
now divorced...

We started the course pristine virgins. Halfway through we were dirty whores. I learned three tricks by then:

1. Blend in: the "zombies" target runners with more flags. By placing my flags behind me (perfectly legal), I kept from announcing myself. The trade-off is that flags behind make easy grabs as you pass.

2. Sacrifice others: One big guy had no flags left. He ran straight for the confused zombies as the rest of us streamed around the outside. This saved me several times.

3. Run like hell: Whenever I hesitated, I lost. There is no shame in running off the trail into wild rose thickets and sharp sticks. Right?

What impressed me most was how fear drove me to desperation. I did things I would never do without dire incentive. I sprinted up a wooden bleacher like I was running on the sidewalk. I'm not sure if fear caused a razor sharp focus that boosted performance, or if I'm just lucky I didn't end up in the hospital.

Many were not so fortunate. Ambulances left the grounds like taxis.

Did I survive? Yes. Am I proud of it? No. I recognize that chance played a big role. My running mate is a far superior physical specimen, yet he did not survive. This is where I'm supposed to say age and cunning beats youth and fearlessness, but that would be a lie. I survived because I am a wuss.

My tactics were not heroic; they were cowardly and selfish. I can't help but wonder if cowardice is a valuable asset in the next Apocalypse. I know the three rules above will be. Here's my advice: stick with what you know.