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Oct 23 2015

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#31ZombieAuthors

#31ZombieAuthors – Day 23 Interview – Peter Cawdron – Outsmarting Zombies

FIND THIS ZOMBIE AUTHOR ON:

Amazon Website Twitter

My guest today is Peter Cawdron, who comes from the land down under. I don’t have to pay the Men At Work a royalty for saying that because Peter is an honest to God Australian zombie enthusiast.

Peter’s the author of the Z is for Zombie series of books which include What We Left Behind and All Our Tomorrows. These books tell the story of teenager Hazel, who in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, searches for Steve, David, and Jane, the only people who ever understood her.

An avid fan of such classic science fiction writers as Philip K. Dick, Arthur C. Clarke and Michael Crichton, Peter is also a prolific science fiction author in his own right.

I wonder if there’s an extra charge to call Australia? Aw screw it, the bill for this phone goes to Alien Jones anyway.

G’day Peter.

NOTE: BOLD=BQB; ITALICS=Peter

Q. I just discovered that my perpetually angry uncle, who I thought never understood me, is in fact, the only person who ever understood me and what I need to make it in the world. Unfortunately, he’s dead, though he visits me in ghost form from time to time. Your protagonist, Hazel, feels like only three people understand her. Is she really that confounding or is it typical teenage “no one gets me” angst?

A. Teenage angst is cliche, and yet there is an element of personal growth we all go through where we’re learning about the world afresh. I don’t know that it stops as an adult, at least, it shouldn’t. It hasn’t for me. I’m always learning, and not just intellectually. Emotional learning is often more important than facts or figures. I think that’s one reason why coming-of-age books have such universal appeal. It’s a chance to re-learn and renew, regardless of how old we may be.

In my novel What We Left Behind and the sequel All Our Tomorrows, we see life through the eyes of a teenager struggling toaccept the end of the world, fighting to make a change. All too often, it is the upcoming generation that is the catalyst for change. Us old farts need to respect that, listen and understand. It’s the youth of today that can change tomorrow, and that’s the message common to my novels as well as books like Hunger Games, Maze Runner, and so many others. Change is good. It’s the status quo that’s scary.

Q. As a zombie fan, I’ve noticed that in most zompoc tales, zombies are never referred to as “zombies.” They’re “walkers” or “the undead” or “creepers” and so on but never zombies. Your characters refer to them as “Zee.” Why is that? Is “zombie” too informal? Will we ever crack open a novel where a writer has a character saying, “Holy crap! It’s a zombie!”

A. Oh, they’re called zombies in What We Left Behind as well as Zee, but Zee makes things more personal, and I think that’s important. Zombie stories are notorious for being impersonal. Survivors are often portrayed as brutal if not more brutal than the zombies themselves, whereas zombie stories are really about survivors. And what is a zombie but a survivor that fell and failed. Zee makes that more poignant, reminding the reader that zombies aren’t simply cannon fodder. To the survivors, they once were as we are, and the term Zee keeps that fresh in mind.

Q. How did you get into the zombie craze?

A. My kids love The Walking Dead, and I enjoy it too, but I get frustrated with the inaccuracies. Gasoline, as an example, has a shelf life of about nine months. Diesel’s a little better, but will be pretty nasty after a couple of years. So at some point everyone’s going to be walking, or riding bicycles or horses. The SUV might look like the ultimate zombie killing machine, but it’s not sustainable, so in All Our Tomorrows, they drive around in a Tesla with the doors stripped off and the seats torn out to keep the weight down, charging the car with solar panels. For me, it’s fun to consider practical stuff like that.

Zombies are dumb, right? So what’s the greatest weapon in the zombie apocalypse? Smarts. I’ve tried to write novels that have smart, unique solutions to the zombie apocalypse rather than relying on shotguns and machetes all the time. Shotguns might work on the zombie in front of you, but the noise is going to bring in a dozen more zombies, while a machete is just plain stupid. It’s going to get stuck every time.

Q. You’re also a sci-fi aficionado. One work of yours that caught my eye is Little Green Men, about a crew of space travelers who set down on a frozen planet and are attacked by, sure enough, little green men. Is a story about trustworthy, non-murderous aliens possible? Does it say anything about us as humans that we have a tendency to think the worst about the possibility of life on other planets?

And by the way, I have a colleague named Alien Jones who is in fact, a little green man. He’s been totally above board thus far, but do you think I should keep an eye on him?

A. Little Green Men is brutal. It’s a homage to Philip K. Dick and has an alienesque feel to it (Alien Jones would love it), but yes, it is possible to write about trustworthy, non-murderous aliens. Anomaly is my best selling novel, having sold over 75,000 copies. Anomaly was my debut novel and even today, a dozen stories down the road, it still outsells everything else I’ve written. If you enjoyed Carl Sagan’s Contact, you’ll love Anomaly.

As for Alien Jones, he’s clearly hampered by a paranoid companion 🙂

Q. On your Amazon page, you talk a bit about the difference between general and “hard” science fiction. Could you explain it for my 3.5 readers?

A. Hard science fiction is a misnomer.

Science fiction shouldn’t be hard to understand or hard and inflexible. There’s merit in keeping scifi as accurate and plausible as possible. There’s always a degree of handwavium in science fiction when authors start projecting their thoughts into the future, but the limitations of concepts like the speed of light actually add to the realism of a story.

As much as I love the Star Trek reboots, I cringe when they ignore common sense. There’s one scene in Star Trek Into Darkness where Kirk is on the Klingon home world some undisclosed number of light years away from Earth, and he calls up Scotty on his handheld communicator. Scotty is in a bar on Earth and answers Kirk’s technical question. To me, that’s a wasted opportunity. Even if Kirk was somewhere within our solar system, say on Mars, Scotty couldn’t have a realtime chat like that, he’d be waiting at least half an hour for a message to arrive. Communication between star systems would be like the letters of the 1700s taking months to years to transit the globe. Star Trek Into Darkness wasted a wonderful opportunity, as instead of taking the lazy, easy way out, the writer could have used that limitation to drive up the tension. Sure, Scotty’s got the answers. But he’s not there, so Kirk has to figure it out on his own and that’s far more rewarding for the audience than watching Kirk being given a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Hard science isn’t difficult, it’s just plausible and believable, and it makes stories more gritty and realistic.

Q. Peter, thanks for taking my call. Before I go, do you have any advice that might help my friends and I survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

A. Think before you act. Remember,

You’re smart. They’re not.
They have numbers. You don’t.

Keep those two facts in mind and you’ll do fine. Oh, and keep a copy of What We Left Behind handy, you might find some good tips in there.

Tagged aliens, Australia, bookbloggers, books, horror, indie authors, indie books, indie publishing, Science Fiction, scifi, self publishing, selfpublishing, Star Trek, the walking dead, walkingdead, writers, zombies

Oct 23 2015

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 23

We were all exceptionally bored.

Uncle Hardass

A long day rolled into evening, nothing but a drip from the nearby showers to entertain us.

OK, there was also a plethora of streaming media content from Alien Jones’ perpetually charged space phone, but while the rest of the gang watched a movie, I wasn’t into it.

I felt an overwhelming urge to be alone and walked off into the shower room. Once I was by myself, the tears flowed freely and I openly cried.

From behind me, I heard the voice of a grumbly old man.

“Waaahhh…waaah waaah!”

I turned around.

“Uncle Hardass?”

For those above and beyond this site’s average 3.5 reader count, I was raised by my Aunt Gertie and her husband, my Uncle Hardassimo “Hardass” J. Scrambler.

Before he died of a massive heart attack, Uncle Hardass’ favorite past times included:

Complaining about hippies, commies, and others he deemed no goodniks who didn’t work hard enough.
Slaving away at the salt mines. Literally, he worked at Salt Mines, Inc. and his job was to dig hunks of salt out of the ground everyday.
Reminding me how much he did and how little I did in comparison. I tried not to take it too personally, because he’d of reminded everyone else in the world too had they been willing to listen.

Despite watching his casket get lowered into the ground, I’m still haunted by his ghost to this very day.

That’s not a metaphor. He actually just shows up at BQB Headquarters unannounced to bitch about whatever I’m doing, inform me that I’m doing it wrong, and to demand an answer as to when I’m going to abandon writing and take a job at the salt mines.

Writing, of course, to Uncle Hardass, is a pursuit beneath “real men” and is something that only hippies and commies do.

Ironically, despite his protestations against writing, Uncle Hardass, from time to time, manages to log on to my blog uninvited to offer his, Things That Really Frost My Ass column. It’s not really a column so much as it is a laundry list of things that are pissing him off at a given point in time.

“Yeah it’s me,” Uncle Hardass said. “Holy shit, look at you, ya’ blubbering crybaby! This really is the girls’ locker room, isn’t it?”

“Whatever,” I said. “Hit me while I’m down. That’s what you do.”

“I’m not hitting you, Nancy. What gives with the waterworks?”

“You want to know why I’m crying?” I asked. “Because you were right.”

“I always am,” Uncle Hardass said. “About what this time?”

“Writing.”

“Bahh! Writing!”

Uncle Hardass raised his voice a few octaves, pretending to be all girly and mocked me. “Oooo la dee da! Look at me! I’m a writer! The world needs my thoughts and opinions!”

Then he reverted to his old, miserable self.

“Baloney. Give me the salt mines any day. Write a thousand words and you’ve got nothing but a bunch of shit on paper. Yank a hunk of salt out of the ground and Salt Mines, Inc. will give you just compensation for it. That’s the problem with your generation. Everybody wants something for nothing. Everybody thinks they’re so damn special.”

I laughed.

“Ohhhh, don’t worry about that, old man,” I said. “You worked on me long enough to convince me that I’m not special. Every day I wake up and the first thing I think about is how exactly un-special I am.”

Uncle Hardass snapped his fingers and a table appeared in the middle of the showers. There was a basket with cold cuts and bread in it. He took a seat and proceeded to make himself a sandwich.

I took the other chair.

“Well,” Uncle Hardass said as he spritzed a slice of bread with some mustard. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“It worked?” I asked. “That I’m acutely aware of how little I matter to the world? Yes. Yes it worked.”

“Do you have a job?” Uncle Hardass asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “At Beige Corp. It’s boring as hell and pays shit.”

“But does it pay the bills?” Uncle Hardass asked.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You’ve got a girlfriend?” the old man inquired.

“Yes.”

“You don’t take her for granted do you?”

“No.”

Uncle Hardass cut his sandwich in half.

“Why?”

“Because she’s smart and pretty and could have anyone and if I don’t make her happy she’ll leave me because I’m not…”

Uncle Hardass perked up and pointed a knowing finger at me.

“Say it.”

“…special.”

“You’re welcome,” Uncle Hardass said as he bit into his dinner.

“Oh whatever,” I said. “You’re really going to eat that?”

“I’m dead,” Uncle Hardass said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He took another bite, then picked up a napkin and dabbed some mustard off his chin.

“Son, when you were growing up, every adult in your life had a job. Your teachers were supposed to make you feel special because the idea that you could do anything made you study more. Your aunt made you feel special because it made her feel special to see you smile but me? I had the hardest job of all. Life will take its size twelve boot and wedge it straight up your ass if you’re not careful and it was my job to dissuade you of all this ‘I’m special’ bullshit so that you were prepared for all the crap the world throws your way. In spite of a world designed to tear the little guy apart, you’re still here.. You’re alive. You have a roof over your head and people that give a shit about you and none of that came from writing so you’re welcome, Lord Fauntleroy. My work here is done.”

“I’m never going to write again,” I said.

“Glad to hear it,” Uncle Hardass said. “Writing is for weirdoes, primadonnas, and women. But uh, just out of curiosity, why?”

“Writing got me into this mess,” I said. “A corrupt general conspired with the corrupt mayor of this settlement to frame me because he didn’t like something that was written on my blog. Now my friends will pay because I had a big enough ego to think people would want to read my dumb blog in the first place.”

Uncle Hardass picked up the other half of his sandwich.

“You know, son, writing is a girlish hobby to be sure but, if it makes you happy and it’s legal then it’s your God given right as a citizen of the United States of America, the greatest f%^king country on the face of the Earth to do it if you want to.”

“You hate writing,” I said. “You don’t hate writing. Make up your mind.”

“Oh it’s made up,” Uncle Hardass said. “Writing is stupid and unmanly. But all I ever wanted for you was to be able to survive on your own, pay your own way through life and find a woman that can look at you for five seconds with puking and now that you’ve got all that, I could give three shits what you do in your spare time. Personally, a real man would get a second job but if you want to mince around and tap out words like you’re the next Oscar Wilde have at it.”

“You’re the most complicated man I’ve ever met,” I said.

“Not really,” Uncle Hardass said as he made himself another sandwich. “I like money. I like to work hard for it. I like being independent and that only comes from working hard for money. Also, I like that now that I’m dead I can eat as much as I want and not get fat. You want one?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said.

“Seems like the only thing a real man in your situation could do now is spring his friends out of this hooscow and get them out of harm’s way,” Uncle Hardass said.

“Why?” I asked. “Apparently if you die you just get to visit your relatives and bitch at them.”

Uncle Hardass smiled.

“Am I really a ghost, BQB?” Uncle Hardass asked. “Or subconsciously, has your mind focused the practical, pragmatic tough-guy side of yourself into an apparition that looks like the only adult you knew when you were growing up that warned you that the real world doesn’t hand out participation ribbons?”

I sat and thought about that.

Uncle Hardass smacked the table and laughed.

“BAHH HA HA! I’m just screwing with you! Of course I’m a damn ghost, you jackass!”

The old man handed me the basket, snapped his fingers and made the table and chairs disappear.

“My boy, the thing to remember is this. Whether it’s writing some kind of fruity novel or saving your pals from an unjust fate, the only way to get something done is to realize that you’re not special enough for the universe to take an interest and make things happen for you. YOU have to make them happen for yourself.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“But seriously, stop crying. You look like a homosexual.”

I snickered and wiped a tear off my face.

“You’re not allowed to say stuff like that anymore.”

“Aww who gives a shit? I’m dead.”

Poof. He was gone.

I carried the basket into the locker room and set it down. It was a welcome sight for everyone as our captors hadn’t thought/cared to leave us any food.

“Where’d this come from?” VGRF asked.

“Uncle Hardass.”

As the Bookshelf Battle Blog’s Second-in-Command, VGRF was familiar with my ghost uncle.

“Sweet! Pimento loaf from the great beyond!”

“Guys, I have to cut movie night short,” I said as I grabbed the space phone. “I gotta bust us out of here but first? I need to call a zombie author.”

Tagged amwriting, Comedy, elderly, funny, humor, things that really frost my ass, Uncle Hardass, writers, zombies

Oct 22 2015

#31ZombieAuthors

#31ZombieAuthors – Day 22 Interview – Ryan Casey – Zombies and TV Style Serialization

FIND THIS ZOMBIE AUTHOR ON:

Amazon Website Twitter

By: Special Guest Interviewer, Alien Jones

Attention all humans. Today’s guest is Ryan Casey, author of the critically acclaimed zombie apocalypse series, Dead Days. Zombie fans will also enjoy Infection Z and mystery buffs should check out the Brian McDone Mysteries series.

Known for tales filled with dark, page-turning suspense, complex characters and knockout twists, Casey has a BA in English with Creative Writing from the University of Birmingham. A resident of the United Kingdom, he enjoys American serial television and wastes too much time playing football manager games.

Thanks for taking my call, Ryan. I hope you don’t mind being interviewed by an alien. BQB was kind of a wuss about touching a phone covered in intergalactic goo. Go figure.

NOTE: BOLD=Alien Jones; ITALICS=Ryan

Q. Let’s get the important stuff out of the way. Are we talking American football as in the NFL or the game Americans call soccer but the rest of the world calls football?

A. Oh, soccer. Absolutely soccer. I’m a massive sports fan all round though and NFL’s profile is definitely growing in the UK, much like soccer in the US. Football Manager games are the height of addiction, mind. If you want to offer up a portion of your productivity to the gods of procrastination, go ahead and pick up a copy. You’ll absolutely regret it.

Q. Dead Days is the story of a group of survivors in a UK based zombie apocalypse. The description of Season Two of Dead Days states, “the only survivors were those willing to sink to the most brutal depths of humanity in order to further their own existence.”

So I just have to ask, if only the most depraved are able to survive an apocalypse, should we be concerned that a-holes are destined to inherit the Earth?

If I’m being cynical, I’d say yes, that’s a very big concern. Nice guys really do finish last a lot of the time, as I’ve unfortunately discovered through experience on way too many occasions. So if you want to survive an apocalypse, get practicing being a depraved arsehole — fast!

In all seriousness though, I don’t think it’d quite play out like that. I think humanity would struggle, naturally, especially if communications and luxuries of a material world suddenly become irrelevant. I like to think there’d be a lot of room for good, positive movements, too. They just don’t make for quite as good reading.

Q. Piggybacking on that last question, when a zombie apocalypse requires survivors to “sink to the most brutal depths of humanity,” is there anyone left for the reader to root for?

Yes! Absolutely. I love these characters and apparently so too do readers. I think what makes them so relatable — or more specifically, empathetic — is that they all go through shit. They all make bad choices. They all do things in the heat of the moment that stay with them, haunt them.

But the difference between the heroes and the villains of Dead Days? The heroes overcome their demons. They face up to their sins, take responsibility. The villains succumb to their problems. Which, unfortunately, often makes them even more dangerous.

Q. A lot of people want to write but not as many study writing formally. You studied Creative Writing at the University of Birmingham. Did you find that experience helpful and would you recommend Creative Writing as a major to other aspiring writers?

I found it a helpful experience. There were some good teachers and some fantastic fellow students, for example Stuart Meczes, author of the brilliant HASEA urban fantasy novels. But I’d say it’s all just a part of the wider learning program of being a writer. The learning doesn’t stop when we leave university. The learning continues, constantly.

I believe the only way to keep writing fresh is to consistently push myself. I want the novel I’m working on to be the best novel I’ve ever written… and for the next novel to be even better. I write a lot, but I throw away even more. Seriously, you do not want to see my unfinished novels folder.

Q. You like serialized television and it shows in your writing. In fact, Dead Days is offered to readers in a serialized format, meaning episodes come out at regular intervals to eventually form a seasonal box set. As an author, what inspired you to present your work in this way rather than in one large novel?

Dead Days was an experiment that worked out beautifully. I’m a big fan of serialised television, like you note, and was particularly influenced by this golden age of television we’re living in. Shows like Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, True Detective, The Walking Dead — some truly stellar writing, better than anything the movie industry offers at present, in my humble opinion.

I always thought the serialised form went hand in hand with this generation of shorter-attention spans and constant distractions, but I was disgruntled with how many “serial” projects were actually just novels broken up into parts.

The intention of Dead Days was, and still is, to transform a television experience onto the page, and not just tear a novel to pieces for financial gain.

Q. A number of authors are embracing the serialized TV style format of writing. For aspiring writers out there, are there any advantages to this style? Any disadvantages?

A major advantage is, like I mentioned, how hand-in-hand with the television format it goes. I think in a world of infinite distractions—iPads, smartphones, Netflix, news—the serialised form is a great way to deliver tighter experiences to readers, so they can enjoy the story then get on with other elements of their busy lives.

A disadvantage is that you have to learn TV structure. As I mentioned, far too many writers just jump on the serialised craze and split their novels into chunks because they think it’ll lead to financial riches. That’s not how it works. If you want to write a serial, you have to learn the craft of television writing before you jump into it. You have to learn about episodic arcs, series arcs, all kinds of things like that. To me, it’s not a negative because I like learning and already had some experience in TV writing. But if you don’t like doing the work, it could be a disadvantage.

Q. Infection Z is your other zombie apocalypse series. It follows Hayden McCall, a jobless layabout in his mid-twenties. Assuming his landlord has paid him a visit to collect the overdue rent, Hayden learns that his landlord has become zombified and the story begins. Is it a challenge to write an underdog’s way out of a zompoc? Would it have been easier had Hayden been a muscle bound military man/weapons expert? But of course, would Hayden have been as relatable to the average reader?

A. I don’t strictly believe in ‘write what you know,’ but I believe in ‘write what you can empathise with.’ I have more in common with a lazy underdog than a military expert (unfortunately), so I just find it easier to get into the heads of characters like Hayden. Only difference between him and me is he overcomes his demons. I’d be the guy locking himself in the bathroom whimpering until the zombies finally barged their way inside…

Q. Ryan, thanks for taking the time to be interviewed by an alien. Before I go, do you have any last minute words of wisdom that might help my human charges and I survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

I’d get punching that alien stomach of yours some more. If there’s a space phone in there, who knows what else is hiding within? A space machete? A space rifle? A space CURE?! You’ll only find out by trying.

Tagged amwriting, authors, blog serials, bookbloggers, books, entertainment, hollywood, horror, indie authors, indie books, indie publishing, self publishing, selfpublishing, serials, television, tv, writers, writing

Oct 22 2015

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 22 (Part 2)

The door read:

GIRLS’ LOCKER ROOM

The DiStefanos pushed us in and locked the door.

VGRF and I walked in. Blandie, Bernie, and Alien Jones were sitting around on changing benches.

“Aww, BQB,” Bernie said. “All through high school, I dreamed about living inside the girls’ locker room, but not like this, yo!”

Blandie stomped her foot and made her typical mad face.

Boo! Blandie is still the worst!

“What did you do, BQB?! What did you do?!”

“Silence, blonde human,” Alien Jones said as he hopped off his bench. “BQB has done nothing wrong. Well, I mean he has done wrong in so many, many other ways. His life is a total mess but in this particular instance, he is blameless.”

“We’ve been set up,” I said. “Alien Jones, can you use your mind reading powers to detect who framed us?”

“It was Hauser,” AJ replied.

We all let out a collective gasp followed by a “WHAAAT?!”

“He’s struck a deal with Morganstern,” Alien Jones said. “The General contacted Hauser and threatened to blow up the rec center and all the survivors in it unless Hauser kills you and offers evidence of having done so.”

“So why doesn’t he just put a bullet in my head and get it over with?” I asked.

“Because you have replaced Hauser as East Randomtown’s favorite son,” Alien Jones explained. “You’ve brought a modest amount of glory to your burg by setting up a WordPress site that attracts the attention of 3.5 readers. It’s not much, but it’s more than Hauser’s done lately. His thirty-second stint on a 1980’s cop show is old news. Because you’re so loved by the citizenry, Hauser knows he can’t just shoot you. He needs to turn the public against you.”

“By making everyone believe you’re a dirty supply thief,” VGRF said.

“Precisely,” AJ said.

“So now what?” I asked.

Alien Jones hopped back on a bench.

“We wait.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “We need to bust out of here.”

“There’s no escape,” Alien Jones said. “The DiStefanos are guarding the door.”

“Vaporize their sorry asses with your powers!”

“Hauser is the only rec center resident outside this room who knows I’m an alien,” AJ explained. “Everyone else just thinks I’m a deformed human child. The Mighty Potentate would never approve of me outing myself.”

“Makes no sense,” VGRF said. “You out yourself on the Bookshelf Battle Blog all the time.”

“Only to 3.5 readers,” Alien Jones said. “And for the most part, they usually just assume BQB is pretending to be an alien and that I’m not real. The Mighty Potentate would be tried for violation of Intergalactic Space Law were it to ever come out that he’s interfering with Earthly affairs, namely by sending me to help Bookshelf Q. Battler. His Potentosity would certainly vaporize me on his way out.”

“A trial,” I said as I sat down. “So how bad could that be? We’ll just convince the jury we’re innocent.”

“It’s not that kind of trial,” Alien Jones. “Here, all issues of guilt are decided by…a trial of zombie combat!”

“Aw snap,” Bernie said. “I gots to bust some zombie ass?”

“Did you just say, ‘snap?’” Blandie asked. “That’s so 1999!”

“OK,” I said. “We can get through this. I’d better call a zombie author for advice and…aw crap!”

Everyone looked at me.

“The space phone!” I shouted. “I left it out there!”

“No worries,” Alien Jones said. “I anticipated the evildoers’ moves and was able to smuggle it…”

“…in your pocket?” I asked.

“…inside of me,” Alien Jones said.

I shook my head.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “How? You don’t have a butt! You have no orifices to speak of!”

“I do have one.”

Alien Jones punched himself in the stomach and then started hacking up a lung. He sounded like a cat stuck on a hairball.

Hack…hack…hack…HACK!!!!

He looks like he’s laughing but he’s really barfing…up a space phone.

SPLAT!

The space phone popped out of the Esteemed Brainy One’s mouth and onto the locker room floor, covered with sticky alien spit.

“You may make your call now.”

“Um…thanks…you know…I think I’m going to pass on this interview,” I said, staring at the messy phone. “You wanna take this one for me, buddy?”

“Humans,” Alien Jones said as he picked up the device. “Such pansies. You’ll wear the same undies for a week but a little intergalactic spittle freaks you out.”

Tagged alien jones, aliens, Comedy, funny, humor, Science Fiction, scifi, space, stories, writing, zombies

Oct 22 2015

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 22 – (Part 1)

The morning was off to a bad start.

George the Barber

George the Barber, accompanied by the DiStefano brothers, were in the office VGRF and I used as our bedroom. We were half-asleep on an old cot when they barged in, shouting and pointing their guns at us.

“Get your ass up, traitor,” George said.

“Excuse me?”

“Now!” the old man said as he slapped me across the face.

We got up and our captors marched us across the gym floor. Every survivor stopped what they were doing to observe the commotion.

“Want to tell me what this is all about?”

“NO TALKING!” Billy shouted as he mashed the butt of his rifle against my back.

“F&*K!” I cried. “Is that any way to treat your Deputy Mayor?”

“Oh, I have a hankerin’ all your rights and privileges have been revoked, boy,” George said.

The trio lead us out into the parking lot where Doug, Mario, and a few armed goons were standing around the Compensator, the SUV my friends and I had driven over from the mall.

“Bookshelf Q. Battler,” Hauser said.

“Doug, I’m not supposed to be outside, remember? Morganstern’s been itching to get me away from the rec center so he can blow me to smithereens.”

“You think I care after your betrayal?”

“What?” I asked.

Doug nodded at Mario, who in turn, opened the back door of the Compensator. It was overflowing with pilfered stuff. Food. Boxes. Cans. Packages. Much needed supplies.

“I trusted you with a position of authority and you robbed us blind!” Doug shouted.

Mayor Hauser

I didn’t know what to say.

“That’s not…I didn’t do that!”

“A likely story,” Doug said. “The three hoodlums you came in with are already in custody. We’ll give you some time to rot and think of what you’ve done until we can organize a trial. May God have mercy on your soul, Bookshelf Q. Battler.”

Carl grabbed me and Billy grabbed VGRF. We struggled as they dragged us back to the rec center.

“Wait,” VGRF said. “BQB didn’t do this!”

“That’s noble of you to protect your beau, girly,” Doug said. “But you need to start thinking about yourself. If he forced you to help out with this, now’s the time to come clean.”

Tagged amwriting, Comedy, funny, Halloween, humor, stories, writing, zombie apocalypse, zombies

Oct 21 2015

Pop Culture Mysteries

Happy Back to the Future Day – October 21, 2015

Hello 3.5 readers.

Happy Back to the Future Day! Yes, today is the day that Marty and Doc visited in Back to the Future Part II.

Much has been discussed about what the film got wrong and right when it comes to predictions of what life in 2015 would be like. Suffice to say, until pizza hydrators and flying cars are invented, the world will pale in comparison to what 1980’s folk envisioned for the future.

So I won’t get into that. Rather, let me ask you a question.

Have you ever wondered how Doc and Marty met?

I mean, seriously. A teenage boy and a crazy haired mad scientist. What a combo. The first film starts and they already know each other but we’re never told how they came to meet in the first place.

So intensely puzzled was I by this conundrum that I put Jake, my very own pop culture detective of Pop Culture Mysteries fame on the case.

CHECK IT OUT HERE for the answer as to how history’s greatest time traveling duo met.

Tagged back to the future, back to the future day, happy back to the future day, Movies, pop culture, Pop Culture Mysteries, Science Fiction, scifi, time travel

Oct 21 2015

#31ZombieAuthors

#31ZombieAuthors – Day 21 Interview – Al K. Line – Zombie Botnets, Literally!

FIND THIS ZOMBIE AUTHOR ON:

Amazon Website

Facebook

My guest today is Al K. Line.

3.5 readers, you might want to log off Twitter for a moment.

Al’s the author of the Zombie Botnet series. The mayhem begins when a devastating computer virus delivers subliminal data packets via social media, turning computer users the world over into murderous creatures.

A resident of rural England, when Al isn’t busy writing, he spends his time with his wife, sons, and dogs, the latter of which he notes he has too many.

Al, welcome.

NOTE: BOLD=BQB; ITALICS=AL

Q. You’re the twenty-first zombie author I’ve interviewed this month and I have to admit, I honestly thought I’d of heard it all by now, but people becoming zombies via a computer virus? For the less tech savvy among us, can you explain how this works in your books?

A. Sure. Ven, the woman behind the “bit of bother,” lets loose a computer virus designed to infect millions of devices and allow her to get up to no good. Unfortunately, it all gets a little out of hand. The virus she unleashes has been compromised and the data packets go viral. An embedded subliminal message in the form of a video basically rewires the brain of anyone that views it and then it’s game over — welcome to zombieville.

Q. How did you come up with this idea?

A. The term zombie botnet is well known within the hacker community, it’s a way of describing a huge array of devices that have been infected and can be manipulated for all manner of nefarious naughtiness. What if the zombie botnet really could do as the name implies? It came from there.

Q. Everywhere I go, people are glued to technology. Phones. Laptops. Tablets. Everyone’s checking Facebook, Twitter, or some other site and usually the latest update is something as trivial as “I just blew my nose.” Do you think we might be zombies already?

A. I love technology, use it daily, and my career relies on it, but yeah, it can get out of hand. It’s the change it has caused to society that I find most interesting, making people slaves to the latest trend or social media platform — let’s face it, if we lose our internet connection for a few minutes we begin to panic, right? This is what the series plays on: our inability to look away. The first thing we do when we hear of a disaster is to check Twitter or Facebook, well, what if those platforms are the very ones causing the problem? People would still look, they can’t help it. It’s too ingrained into the fabric of our techno-reality now to ever go back.

Q. I notice this series is actually considered half-horror/half-comedy. I have to say, the idea of society being hoisted on its own technological petard seems rife with the ability to provide social commentary, not to mention a joke or two. Personally, I’m so addicted to social media that if all I have to do not to become a zombie is not check Twitter, I’m not sure I could do it. How are you able to combine humor with horror, when the two normally don’t mix well?

A. You gotta see the funny side, right? It’s the whole premise. Yes, there is social commentary, but it isn’t judgmental. We all have our obsessions, our hangups and our needs, and the absurdity of how the infection is caused screams for a bit of a laugh at our own expense. Plus, to be honest I can’t help myself. Characters suddenly appear on the page (I mean computer screen really) and they often happen to be rather comical — there’s no stopping it once the words somehow jump from my brain to the developing book.

Q. Al, your book features people being turned into zombies via subliminal messages. Just now, a real live zombie actually just jumped out of my computer screen. Have you ever heard of such a thing happening in zombie lore and any ideas on how to defeat such a menace?

A. Oh, loads, it happens all the time. The best thing to do is to scream really loud and run really fast — only pausing to update Facebook and check if anyone has posted anything on Twitter that could help in 140 characters or less.

Q. Thanks for the interview, Al. Before I go, do you have any last minute advice that might help my friends and I survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

A. Nope. You’re going be dead any moment. Actually, should I even be answering this? Hello? I knew it, dead already, brains all over the floor. There’s probably some zombie granny chewing on your intestines at this very moment. Oh, don’t forget to follow me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/authoralkline

Yeah, I get the irony.

Tagged bookbloggers, books, Comedy, computer viruses, computers, facebook, funny, hackers, Halloween, horror, humor, indie authors, indie books, indie publishing, self publishing, selfpublishing, social media, tech, technology, twitter, writers, zombies

Oct 21 2015