Tag Archives: horror

#31ZombieAuthors – Day 17 Interview – Jeremy Laszlo – The E-Mail That Launched a Self-Publishing Career

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Today’s guest is Jeremy Laszlo, the best-selling author of over thirty novels, including the Left Alive series, which chronicles the journey of Charles as he strives to make good on a promise to his dying wife to deliver their children to safety in the midst of a zombie infested nightmare of a world.

Jeremy’s works have broken the top ten of over ninety Amazon lists by genre, at times reaching the top ten of all books on Amazon.

Our noble scribe resides in Louisiana, where threats to his well-being include alligators, oversized mosquitos, and scorching temperatures.  Luckily, he avoids all that by chilling out in his air conditioned workspace, where he spends most of his time either writing or being boxed by children wearing cartoonishly large Hulk hands.

A pleasure to speak with you, Jeremy.

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Q.  When it comes to a good zombie apocalypse novel, how much do the zombies actually matter?  Is it the zombies themselves that attract readers or the threat of a lawless, no holds barred post-society world that said zombies represent?  Would it be possible to replace the zombies with hurricanes, tornadoes, plagues, or locusts and achieve the same result?

A.  First, thanks for having me. I think the notion of zombies really pulls from a deeper, darker, cruder portion of the human psyche. There is a part of everyone that craves chaos, especially in a world such as ours where there are rules and limitations enforced on every aspect of our lives. Zombies simply play into that less evolved portion of who we are. In a story, they don’t need to be the driving force, they certainly aren’t in my LEFT ALIVE series. But that element of devolved, cannibalistic people adds a dark edge to any story that readers can really associate with.

Q.  You’ve written so many novels.  Where do you get the ideas from?  For those of us who whine about writer’s block or a lack of inspiration, do you have any advice?

A.  I do write a lot. I’m actually shooting for 4 more releases before the end of the year, including another zombie trilogy. Ideas come from everywhere. My family and life experiences are a great source of inspiration. Truthfully though, most of my books start with a ‘What if’ scenario. It is really the building block for all of my novels, and a concept I explain in detail in my ‘Kindle Fiction Mastery’ book aimed to help struggling writers. For the LEFT ALIVE series, I simply asked myself what would happen if a strain of genetically modified fertilizer had unintended mutations and ruined the world’s ecosystem killing all plants on Earth. You can see how that alone could be an entire series of apocalyptic books (Coming soon), but what if coming into contact with the infected soil had consequences as well? What if it deteriorated neurons and brain tissue? That is how my zombies were born.

Q.  I read an interview on “The Bearded Scribe” in which you discuss how an errant email convinced you to go the self-publishing route.  Specifically, you submitted your work to a traditional publishing house only to receive an e-mail from a pair of interns joking about how one of them had just batch rejected 600 authors.  (Note to readers – watch out for that ‘Reply All’ button!)

Could you explain how this experience convinced you to take control of your own destiny as a writer?

A.  Ah yes… the intern. He will end up a character in one of my novels, eventually. I simply haven’t decided how to kill him yet.

What can I say? It was not only a direct blow to my own confidence as a writer, but also an eye-opening moment about the REAL state of the publishing industry.

The old model of publishing doesn’t care an ounce about writers. They actually artificially control supply and demand by doing precisely what was done to me, and batch rejecting the vast majority of writers without so much as reading the first word of their work. By limiting the number of books published, they can create a false sense of limited choices, and herd readers like cattle to purchase what they produce, simply because it was all that was available. They controlled trends in genres. They controlled the prices of books. They controlled who and what got published, and in many cases it was more about who you knew, rather than how well you wrote.

The intern laughing about rejecting my work without even reading it, along with nearly 600 others, was just the final straw. There was really no reason to wait around while agent after agent and publisher after publisher form rejected my work (even though some showed interest).

There was another option, and I went all in. Since then, I’ve met a ton of wonderful authors and a great community of people built around those authors. I’ve self-taught myself in graphic design to create the majority of my covers. I’ve spent countless hours learning the secrets of writing, publishing, marketing and promotion. There really isn’t anything writers can’t do for themselves. That’s not to say that I wouldn’t entertain a publishing contract from a large publishing house. I certainly would. But they’d better have some respect, and understand that I can do it on my own.

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE: Yes! Viva la revolucion!

Q.  One of my 3.5 readers is a big orc fan and I noticed you’re also the author of the Orc Destiny series which follows the adventures of Orc warrior Gnak.

For me, this begs a question for the ages.  Orcs vs. zombies – who wins in that scenario?

A.  That is a tough question, but one that is sort of answered in the Orc Destiny trilogy. Orcs actually fight the undead in the series! That said, Orcs win. Hands down. Every time. Why? Because Orcs, that’s why. They’re big, hulking warriors. They fear nothing and kill everything. I’m a big fan myself.

Q.  You’re a marine.  Thank you for your service.  How does that experience come into play with your writing?

A.  You’re welcome…? That’s always been awkward for me. I appreciate your appreciation, truly.

Being a Marine is hard to explain. It isn’t just a way of life, it becomes a part of who and what you are. I suppose the obvious would be to say that my battle and fight scenes are probably a tad more graphic than many writers. I don’t shy away from the gore and the real emotion of the battlefield. But it goes further than that. Marines are known around the world for being determined and focused. We don’t surrender. Ever. The same goes with my writing. I knew I could do it, and I refused to let a few rejections deter me. I have the focus and stamina of a Marine, which allows me to sit and write until a story is finished. The third novel of my Blood and Brotherhood Saga, The Changing, is 87,000 words long and I wrote it in three days. I don’t intend to quit. Not even when my name is known in every household around the world.

Q.  Your books have topped various Amazon charts.  What’s your secret?

A.  Determination. Experimentation. Research. Commitment. That’s what it really boils down to. If you want to be a writer, first and foremost you have to write and keep writing. No matter what. Then you have to learn the business side of being an Author. It isn’t a part time job. If you write as a hobby, it will always be a hobby. If you want success, you have to earn it toiling away countless hours learning the ins and outs of the industry. Or, of course, you could read my Fiction Masters series, which details much of what I’ve learned these past years and how to employ my secrets and strategies.

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

A.  If the media tells us anything, it’s be a redneck with a crossbow. Not only will you be a badass, but troves of women will follow you anywhere. If you’re going to survive the apocalypse, if might be nice to have a lot of… um… company.

If you can’t be a redneck, use bait. Use your brain, and be evil… it’s an advantage. I suggest driving an iron rod deep into the ground in the middle of your yard. Place a ring of cars around the rod, leaving a clearing between them about twenty feet wide. Then, go find a young guy. A healthy one. One that acts like he was probably an asshat before the apocalypse. Befriend him. Team up with him. When he’s sleeping, tie him up and cut off one of his feet. Don’t forget a tourniquet just above the ankle so he doesn’t bleed out. Then chain him to the stake in the middle of the cars. Now you have your bait.

He’ll scream, which will attract the zombies, but that’s ok, because you’re going to move off a safe distance and pick off the zombies as they struggle to get over the ring of cars. It’s not only entertainment, but it will also help to clean up the neighborhood. And don’t worry about whether or not it is humane. It is a kill or be killed world, and you’ll certainly be thought of as a hero, which leads us back to having lots of company.

Oh, and food… nah, never mind the food. Just put a sign up that says “Cellphones work here” with an arrow pointing towards the ring of cars. The idiots will likely have food. Let the zombies handle the idiots, you can collect their food later. After all, you have company to entertain.

Aside from that, if you have any questions about the apocalypse or zombies you can get in touch through my website at www.jeremylaszlo.com

Or Facebook at www.facebook.com/bloodandbrotherhood

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, Jeremy.  You sure put a lot of thought into that last question.  Thanks for stopping by!

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BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 17

Fort Hauser aka the new name for the East Randomtown Park/Rec Center, ran like a finely tuned precision race car.

Everyone had their job and despite the chaos brewing outside the fence, people worked hard to do what they could to make life on the inside better.

Doug and his squad went on daily scavenger missions. I wanted to help but I knew that Morganstern would, as promised, launch a cruise missile up my ass as soon as he spotted me through one of his surveillance drones.

Technically, that made no sense.  Wouldn’t Morganstern, if anything, shove a missile “down my throat?”  Because if a missile is coming from the sky, it would have to come downward to get me.  It wouldn’t come down and then go up my ass.

You know what?  Forget it.  Let’s not quibble about semantics.

Besides, Doug insisted I stay on the premises to provide leadership as Deputy Mayor in his stead.

Since all the residents were so well disciplined, the job was mostly ceremonial, and thus I was left with plenty of time to write.

And that was good, since Alien Jones’ boss, the Mighty Potentate, had threatened to conquer the Earth in the event that I die before delivering a novel written well enough to inspire the masses to abandon reality television.

The Mighty Potentate - Earth's new ruler if BQB doesn't write the best novel ever before he dies.  So yeah, sorry Earth.

The Mighty Potentate – Earth’s new ruler if BQB doesn’t write the best novel ever before he dies. So yeah, sorry Earth.

Talk about pressure.

I sat in the computer lab and clicked away:

The Amazing Adventures of Johnny Gunhands

“No,” I said. “It needs to be catchier.”

Alien Jones, having nothing better to do, sat in a chair next to me and acted as an instant critic to every word I typed.

“The Mighty Potentate will demand more gusto.”

I retyped the title.

Johnny Gunhands: A Farewell to Hands

“I don’t get it,” Alien Jones said. “And I get everything as I hail from a genius species.”

“It’s a play on Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms,” I explained. “This will be the first part of the series, the origin story in which we learn how Johnny not only lost his hands, but how they were replaced with guns.”

“First part of a series?” AJ asked. “You mean you intend to write MORE of this schlock?”

“Every writer always intends to write more of their schlock now,” I said. “Build a good fanbase and you can keep your stories going on forever.”

“I just don’t see much of a market for Johnny Gunhands,” AJ replied.

“Well, if you have another idea for a book that will ween the masses off of reality television, I’m all ears,” I said.

“As a matter of fact, I do!”

Alien Jones pulled the keyboard away from me and typed out the following synopsis:

Ms. Humphrey’s Way

Riddled with disease, desperation and despair, drug addict Vanessa Humphrey wages an uphill battle to get clean and sober. Rather than continue to ignore the personal demons that drove her to such a lowly state, she faces them and in doing so, overcomes them.

Years later, Vanessa has turned her life around and is now well-respected English teacher, Ms. Humphrey, who uses lessons from Shakespeare’s plays to convince troubled inner city youth to better themselves.

Ms. Humphrey takes a particular interest in one of her pupils, the depressed yet talented Arnold Baker. Arnold’s short story has the potential to win him a four year college scholarship, but he’ll need Ms. Humphrey’s assistance to see the project through.

Along the way, Ms. Humphrey discovers that Arnold is in fact the child she gave up for adoption years before in her addict days.

Is the learning disability that makes it difficult for Arnold to record his ideas into written form Vanessa’s fault for hitting the crack pipe hard while she was pregnant?

Is it possible for a woman to change her life so dramatically so as to become completely unrecognizable to her former self?  Should society blame people for past sins forever?

And will it ever be possible for Vanessa to forgive herself?

All these questions and more will be answered as Ms. Humphrey must make a crucial decision:

Should she reveal to Arnold that she is his real mother or should she leave well enough alone?

“That’s all yours if you want it,” Alien Jones said as he handed the keyboard back to me.

I read his synopsis.

The Esteemed Literary One

The Esteemed Literary One

“This is poignant,” I said. “Breathtaking. Brilliant. It will win every major literary award and will surely be turned into an Academy Award winning film…”

“Why thank you,” Alien Jones said.

“…that only 3.5 people will bother to see! Get your head out of your ass!”

“I don’t have an ass!”

“Well get one and get your head out of it,” I said. “No more schmaltzy awards bait!  Action and explosions are the only things that put asses into seats!  Johnny Gunhands it is!”

“As if you’ll ever fling that turd past the traditional publishing goalie,” Alien Jones said. “The traditional publishing world is nothing if not a community of high standards.”

“Four words for you,” I said as I typed them out onto the screen:

Christian Grey flavored popsicle.

“OK you’ve got me there,” Alien Jones said. “Still, you shouldn’t cut off any options. Consider self-publishing your Johnny Gunhands nonsense if no one in the traditional world bites.”

“Good idea,” I said. “I better consult a zombie author about this.”

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#31ZombieAuthors – Day 16 Interview – Saul Tanpepper – Zombified Video Gaming

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By:  Video Game Rack Fighter, Special Guest Interviewer

Today’s guest on the Bookshelf Battle Blog is Saul Tanpepper, author of the GAMELAND series, a saga set in a world where zombies outfitted with neural implants are controlled by players using video game controllers.

The carnage ensues when a group of computer hackers break into a Long Island turned wasteland and quickly learn there are consequences far beyond the average video game.

Saul, thanks for joining us.

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51TmgJ+nv1L._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_Q.   Zombies turned into video game avatars manipulated by wealthy video game enthusiasts.  Just when I thought the world was out of fresh spins on the zombie apocalypse genre, you come up with one.  How did you do it?

A.   I read Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games right after it was published and knew that it was going to be a blockbuster and therefore a good literary model to emulate. I’d been thinking about publishing dystopian fiction (not just horror or post-apocalyptic), and since zombies were starting to get hot, and readers were demanding series, I combined the three elements together and came up with the idea for GAMELAND. The original plan was to throw a half dozen young adults into a gaming arcade with the undead for a fight to the finish, but that seemed too much like HG. I made the gaming aspect secondary and went heavier on the post-apocalyptic theme.

Q.  I hope you don’t mind if I reveal on this blog that you are, in fact, Dr. Ken J. Howe, a PhD molecular biologist and former Army medic/trauma specialist. (Don’t worry, this site only has 3.5 readers so your secret is safe.)  Upon learning this about you, several questions come to my mind, the first being, does your experience and training come in handy as a writer and how so?

A.  It’s both helpful and harmful. As a former scientist, I tend to be overly critical about technical accuracy and probabilities, which holds me back from writing anything too outrageous. This applies to the technologies referenced in the GAMELAND series. We already have the capacity to prolong life and it won’t be long before we can reverse cell death. Scientists are also dabbling in neural implantation, so it’s not a great leap to think about implanted zombies. My medical background is a great help when it comes to writing descriptions. Having personally had my hands inside chests, smelled the effects of rotting flesh, assisted with surgeries, I try to relay the physical and emotional impact of those experiences to the reader.

Q.  Last I checked, zombies are just figments of our imagination  (I hope.)  However, as a molecular biologist/former medic, do you have any thoughts on zombie physiology that you could share?  Are there any known theories on how, hypothetically speaking, a human could be turned into a zombie or exhibit zombie-ish tendencies?

A.  There are some aspects of zombie physiology which the lore currently explains poorly. For example, how do they move and moan when they don’t breathe? Why don’t they rot faster? Why do they prefer brains? Why do they go after only the uninfected? GAMELAND attempts to explain some of these discrepancies.

As far as real-life goes, zombies aren’t that much of a leap, at least if we’re simply talking about brain-dead individuals attacking other people. The bath salt incidents of a couple years back, and any number of drug or hypnosis-induced incidents we’ve seen all resemble zombie-like behavior. If the mind can be so easily manipulated by suggestion or chemicals, it’s not hard to imagine an infectious agent producing a chemical to the same effect.

As far as reanimating the dead, that requires a bit more suspension of disbelief or more faith in the paranormal. Cells tend to break down very rapidly, so unless a person has only very recently died, it’s unlikely the body will have much function. My bets for zombies are on the near-dead or recently-deceased.

Q.  How would a real life zombie video game such as the one described in your series work?  Will video games ever evolve to the point where people can be controlled with a joystick?  (And is that necessarily something we’d want?)

A.  Technology already exists to remotely control inanimate objects in virtual reality (think drones, surgery, bomb robots), and game developers have reported early success in being able to manipulate living subjects remotely in the same way as well as with the use of neural stimulation. We are on the cusp of an explosion in VR gaming. Just beyond that horizon is remote controlled live action gaming. I don’t want to say too much about it, because it would seem to make the ideas I developed in GAMELAND appear less groundbreaking, but suffice it to say, I’d be surprised if we aren’t soon forced to ponder the very same moral questions the characters in my books failed to ask themselves when it comes to this subject.

Q.  You’re also the author of The Essential Book Blog: The Complete Bibliophile’s Toolkit for Building, Growing and Monetizing Your On-Line Book-Lover’s Community.  If you had to give Bookshelf Q. Battler one piece of advice on how to improve his blog, what would it be?  (Besides obtain more than 3.5 readers.)

A.   You’re doing all the right things — writing to a specific target audience, keeping the material fresh, engaging your readers, and leveraging other people’s fan bases — so that’s a great foundation for growing your blog. It takes time, as you already know. Having a mailing list helps, as does having something to offer your readers. For example, I offer my subscribers a free starter library and often tell them about deals and giveaways before I tell the general public. I include a lot of tips in TEBB on how you can monetize your efforts to help defray any costs and build income. Even utilizing the easiest of the techniques will quickly pay for the cost of the book.

Q.  Saul, your expertise has been greatly appreciated.  Before I go, do you have any final words of wisdom that might help my friends and I survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

A:  It’s been my pleasure. As far as surviving the Z-poc, my only suggestion is to get yourself a good sturdy toilet plunger (if you’ve read my series, you’ll understand why). That, and a comfortable pair of sneakers. You’ll be doing a lot of running.

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BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 16

shutterstock_71046703“Ms. Fighter!  Ms. Fighter!  Look!”

Kenny was a red headed, freckle faced boy, about eight years old.  He and his friends were, much to VGRF’s dismay, Buildcrafting it up big time.

“I built my very own Roman era city, complete with a working aqueduct!”

“That’s great Ken.”

VGRF leaned in to whisper to me, “I think I’m just going to walk outside and take my chances with the zombies.”

“Looks like they’re already here,”  I said, pointing to a dozen kids whose eyes were transfixed on the game.  “What is the point of Buildcraft anyway?”

“There is no point,”  VGRF said.  “It is completely pointless.  You just build and build and build some more.  UGH!  Why won’t you kids go to sleep so I can play Car Thief Mayhem?”

“One might argue that game is equally pointless,”  Kenny said.  “All you do on Car Thief Mayhem is destroy.  At least here, I’m building something.

VGRF’s “I’ve been bested” look was always priceless.

“Shut up and fix your aqueduct, Kenny! Your columns are all crooked!”

Janey, a fourteen year old with a mouthful of braces, nudged Kenny.

“It’s my turn!”

“Fine,”  Kenny said as he saved his aqueduct and turned the console over.

Janey popped in a disc marked The Shuffling Living:  The Video Game Experience.

The Shuffling Living was the hottest show on television.  It followed the adventures of champion zombie hunter Dirk Lane as he and his band of survivors migrated across a zombie infested landscape.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,”  VGRF said to Janey.  “We’re stuck in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and you’re going to play a video game about a zombie apocalypse?”

“It’s still a good video game!”  Janey said.

“What do you do?”  VGRF asked.

“There’s some stuff somewhere the group needs but its surrounded by zombies so you have to fight them to get to it,”  Janey explained.

“Oh,”  VGRF said, exercising her inner critic, “So it’s just like every last episode of that show then?”

“Pretty much,”  Janey replied.

“You know we used to watch it every Sunday,”  I said.

Used to being the operative words,”  VGRF said.  “If I never see another zombie again it’ll be too soon.”

VGRF picked up the case for the game Janey was playing.

“Huh.  PG13.  I guess it’s ok for you then.”

She read on.

“Play as Dirk Lane and eradicate zombies or play as a zombie and feast on human brains!”

My significant other looked at me.

“This is sick!  Who’d want to control a zombie in a video game?”

“That’s a good question,”  I said as I whipped out the space phone.  “And I know who can answer this…”

“Oh my God,”  VGRF said as she snatched the phone away from me.  “Stop being such a spotlight hog and let me do another interview already!”

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#31ZombieAuthors – Day 15 Interview – Peter Meredith – Finding Your True Passion

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51Hxq5kK0WL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_ My guest today is Peter Meredith, author of The Undead World series. The tale begins when efforts to cure cancer go horribly wrong, and survivors are forced to do whatever they can to survive in a world crawling with zombies.

A multi-genre author, some of Peter’s other works include: The Trilogy of Void, The Hidden Lands Series, The Sacrificial Daughter, A Perfect America and Sprite.

Hello Peter. Good to speak with you.

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Q.  Peter, I’ve tried a number of jobs in my life. I’ve been the assistant to the assistant to the Vice President of Corporate Assistance at Beige Corp, the world’s premiere producer of beige products and accessories. I started up a website that boasts upwards of 3.5 readers and now, as luck would have it, I’ve just been named Deputy Mayor of a settlement for zombie apocalypse survivors.

According to your Amazon author page, you’ve had quite the journey yourself. You tried your hand in real estate, worked as an emergency room nurse, and you were also the CEO of a national lighting company. Today, you concentrate on what you refer to as your “true addiction,” writing. For anyone out there who’s searching for their passion and has yet to discover it (or worse, won’t embrace it) what advice do you have for them?

A.  Don’t be shocked when you find it and embrace it when you do. Unlike almost every other author I’ve run across, I wasn’t reading at the age of two and writing my first poem by my third birthday. Quite the opposite, I hated to write. I never learned to type and my penmanship hasn’t progressed beyond a second grade level. Since I would fret over every little error, an e-mail used to take me close to an hour to write, if the client was important enough.

But that all changed in 2010. With the economy in the dumps, my company decided to rework our website and in order to attract attention to it, I was told I should write articles and submit them online. So I painstakingly wrote five articles. They were terrible.

Not terribly written, just dull. Writing about the technical aspects of LED lights is super boring and not just to me but for everyone. So with Halloween coming up, I decided to write about the two super-natural occurrences that I had been involved with instead. The boss wasn’t exactly happy, but seeing as she’s my wife, what could she do?

So I wrote two little short stories. Just like that, something kicked in. Suddenly I became a writer. It was altogether inexplicable to go from writing as little as possible to writing all the time. Without any classes or real training, I wrote a book, and then a trilogy, and now I’m currently working on my nineteenth novel. Life is strange, but great.

Q.   What motivated you to take the stories in your mind and put them down in written form?

A.   It’s a mystery to me. I had always been an unparalleled day dreamer but I never knew I could write. I didn’t know I had the discipline or the drive to write an entire, full-length novel until one day I just started.

Q.   Your reader reviews are very positive. One reviewer of The Apocalypse Crusade stated, “DO NOT pick this up until you are ready to commit to an all-night sleep-defying read!” As an author, how are you able to grab a reader’s attention and draw him or her into your world?

A.   For me the answer starts with creating realistic, relatable characters—that is key to any book. Then comes the story, and it has to move along at a good clip, one action leading into another in a manner that runs just along the edge of possible.


Q.   As William Ernest Henley’s poem, Invictus, goes, “Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade…” You’re the author of The Horror of the Shade, which begins with a recitation of Henley’s classic poem. I’ve always been a fan of Invictus. What is it about that poem that inspired you?

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A.  The clear call of courage within it matched what I was trying to write about with two of the characters William, the father and Will, the son. Both had their courage tested throughout the book, this being especially true with the confrontation of the demon.

Q.  In Sprite, you tell the story of Audrey “Odd” Wyatt, a twelve-year old girl afflicted with startling, dreadfully red eyes. To add to her problems, she’s saddled with Karen, her miserable, bar hopping alcoholic mother who rarely misses an opportunity to make Odd feel bad about herself. What I noticed about this book is that in Odd, you’ve created a very sympathetic character while Karen is likely the kind of character that readers will love to hate. How were you able to craft two completely different character types in one story?

41JsLlh4NtL._SX310_BO1,204,203,200_A.  Anyone who wishes to become a writer needs to be a student of humanity. It’s far more important than knowing where commas are supposed to go, or what participles are. When you know people and when you realize that human behavior is, for the most part, unchanging, then almost every character is opened to you as a writer.

Q.   Peter, thanks for taking the time to share your expertise with me today. Before I go, do you have any last minute advice that might help my friends and I survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

A.   Run very fast.

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PREVIOUSLY ON #31ZombieAuthors

Hello 3.5 readers.shutterstock_99981176 copy

Day 15!  We’ve reached the half-way mark for #31ZombieAuthors

For those of you just tuning in…

  • East Randomtown, the burg I call home, has been ravaged by a zombie apocalypse, masterminded by the dreaded Dr. Hugo Von Science.
  • I, Bookshelf Q. Battler, and my group of survivors including my girlfriend, Video Game Rack Fighter, alien/intergalactic correspondent Alien Jones, friend/former Funky Hunks rap duo partner Bernie “MC Plotz” Plotznick, and ex-girlfriend Blandie, who is totally the worst, have formed a survivor’s group.
  • You can read daily posts of our adventure’s in BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal.
  • Naturally, I can’t do this alone, so for the past fifteen days I’ve been reaching out to noted authors of zombie books to seek their undead expertise.  Check back here every day for a new zombie author interview.
  • Even if you’re one of those nerds who aren’t into zombies, these writers are still sharing their secrets to success, so if you’re an aspiring scribe, you’ll want to tune in and learn from the masters anyway.
  • For most of this month, my gang and I have been trapped in the East Randomtown Mall.  However, a complex plot, perhaps too complex for a blog with only 3.5 readers has emerged.
  • General Morganstern, a corrupt general who answers to a shadowy, yet to be named figure, is attempting to use the zombie apocalypse as a cover to blow me the hell up.
  • He’s gone on Network News One to assure the public that everyone in East Randomtown is either dead or a zombie, and that his planned air strikes won’t harm anyone.
  • Luckily, fans of the Funky Hunks, the wholesome, non-threatening rap duo Bernie and I were in during the late 1990s/early 2000’s, have been descending on the Army’s base of operations in West Randomtown to protest the strikes and inform the people that Bernie and I are very much alive.
  • They know this because they’ve been reading my posts on the Bookshelf Battle Blog.  Oddly, despite all this attention, I never seem to average more than 3.5 readers anyway.
  • After leaving the mall, the gang and I searched for my beloved Aunt Gertie, to no avail.  Is she lost? Dead?  Zombified?  Will I ever find out?  Oh Gertie, where are you?
  • Currently, the gang and I are holed up in “Hauser Town” or as it used to be know, the East Randomtown Park/Rec Center.  East Randomtownians are in a dispute over who is the town’s most famous citizen.  Some say it’s Doug because he appeared as an extra in a 1980’s cop drama for thirty entire seconds, during which his character had the snot beaten out of them.  Others say it’s me because I built a WordPress blog that brings in 3.5 readers.  I don’t care about the title.  Doug claims not to.  Thus far, we’ve been able to set the rivalry aside for the town’s greater good.

So that’s all you need to know, 3.5.  At some point, I’ll have to archive all of this in one easy to read format but until then, sit back, relax, and enjoy as the second half of #31ZombieAuthors begins!

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Zombie Trump Reviews the Walking Dead – Season 6, Episode 1 – First Time Again

By: Zombie Trump, Special Guest Reviewershutterstock_110983922 copy

Hello 3.5 losers.  Zombie Trump here, doing Bookshelf Q. Battler one hell of a favor by making a special guest appearance on his pitiful excuse for a blog.  Do you know that more people have read the ingredients on the back of those restaurant sugar packets than have read this lousy website?

I’ll tell you, BQB should be puckering up and smooching my rotten, undead derrière because getting me on this site is quite a get indeed.

OK, Battler.  Get ready for the highest stats ever on this crap hole.

THIS IS GOING TO BE HUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGEEE!

So the gang is back and they’re broodier and angrier than ever.

LAST SEASON

Rick and Co. have spent the past five seasons surviving the zombie menace so at this point they’re all like “Look at us!  We know how to live in the dirt and kill zombies and shit!”

Please.  Who cares?  What kind of a job is that going to allow you to acquire in today’s market?

Oh, by the way, I’m supposed to say SPOILERS ahead or else a bunch of you goons will whine I ruined your favorite show.  Look.  There’s no way to ruin this show.  Zombies try to eat people.  People fight back.  Some of the people die occasionally.  Other times they don’t.  There you go.

So Rick’s crew reached Alexandria last season.  Alexandria’s a settlement that has survived since the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, thanks to a local politician and her engineer husband WHO BUILT A WALL to keep out the zombies, thus allowing the survivors behind the wall to live productive, zombie free lives.

Hmmm, I wonder which other zombie candidate in the race for the office of President of All Zombies proposed building a wall?  Walls work, people.  Ask the Chinese.  Have they been invaded by Mongolians lately?  No.  Thanks to the Great Wall.  And Alexandria has been able to keep the zombies out thanks to their wall.

Anyway, rather than congratulate the Alexandrians on their foresight to build an anti-zombie wall, Rick and his hoodlums are all like “Waah waah waah, we fought zombies in the woods and wandered around Georgia for five years, blah blah blah, we know everything.”

Yeah clowns.  Maybe you should have known to BUILD AN ANTI-ZOMBIE WALL.  Stop demanding that others reward you for your own incompetence, losers.

THIS SEASON

This first episode was some kind of half black and white, half color Tarantino style nonsense where they jumped between the past and the future.  I’m not going to lie.  For the first half-hour, I thought my zombie television was on the fritz, but I knew that couldn’t be, because I reside at the luxurious Zombie Trump Taj Mahal, where everything is really classy.

The big problem the group faced is that there was some kind of ridiculous zombie dam that was about to break loose and send the zombies on a big charge towards Alexandria.

Zombies tend to have a herd mentality.  Few are strong, independent forward thinking zombies like myself, who dare to pledge to make the Zombie Nation great again.

Rick’s big plan is to lead these zombies on a zombie parade, manipulating them down a path through sounds and (hey what do you know) WALLS designed to keep the undead from straying.

Wait a minute.  So zombies are that easy to control?  Just put a damn hill billy on a motorcycle and they’ll go anywhere you want them to?  Doesn’t that kind of negate the last five seasons?  Why doesn’t Daryl just lead all the undead off a cliff and save the world already then?

Seems like a big plot hole to this zombie.  But then again, it is a show about people who fight zombies so I suppose you have to suspend disbelief a bit to enjoy it.

Just like how Bookshelf Q. Battler suspends disbelief about how sucktastic his blog is so he can bring himself to keep blogging anyway.

Enjoy your hits running off the rails, Battler.  I’m off to dine on some first class brains at Chez Zombie Trump, the number one eatery in the world for zombies.  It’s so extravagant it makes all other zombie eateries look like the Outback Steakhouse.

Zombie Trump out.

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BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 14 – (Part 3)

Doug gave us the dime store tour of the camp he’d set up in the rec center gym.

Over a hundred makeshift beds were scattered across the wooden floor.  Some people slept on cots, others in sleeping bags, or on sheets and blankets.  Some folks who weren’t able to sleep milled about in different groups.

Near the bleachers, there was a buffet set up.  The welcome smell of hot soup filled my nostrils.

“This was all just a matter of being in the right place at the right time,”  Doug said.  “I’ve been a volunteer coach here since I retired…”

Hauser parlayed his fifteen seconds of fame into a car dealership, Hauser Hyundai.  People from all over stopped by to buy

Doug Hauser - One of East Randomtown's best and brightest, though that's not saying much.

Doug Hauser – One of East Randomtown’s best and brightest, though that’s not saying much.

South Korean cars at a reasonable price and watch Doug recreate his infamous fight scene.  Usually, he’d just whip a long haired wig onto one of his salesmen and ask him to pretend to be Don Johnson.

I witnessed this spectacle myself once when I was twelve and Aunt Gertie bought herself a used Hyundai.

“I was watching my boys score another win when the zombie apocalypse broke out,”  Doug explained. “The fence around the park has kept the monsters at bay and a few brave souls and I have been making daily scrounge missions into town, picking up all the supplies and survivors we can find and bringing them back here.”

“That’s impressive Doug,”  I said.  “East Randomtown is in your debt.”

“Oh it’s nothing, BQB.  I’m just doing what any good citizen in my shoes would do.”

“What’s this I hear you’re the Mayor now?”  I asked.

“Oh that,”  Doug said as he rolled his eyes.  “People just started calling me that.  I never asked for the title but you know how people are.  They need some authority figure to glom onto.  I was sad to hear about Mayor Bramble.  I’m going to call for a fair election as soon as possible.”

“Doug,”  I said.  “About that statue.  You know, I never had anything to do with…”

Doug belted out a big “SHHH!”

“Please BQB.  Of course I know you never asked Bramble to tear my likeness down and replace it with yours.  Do you really think I give a rat’s ass about that thing anyway?”

“You don’t?” I asked.

“Hell no,”  Doug said.  “Thirty years ago I was a dumb kid who tried to become an actor.  Other than getting the shit beaten out of me on one cop drama, it didn’t pan out.  That’s just life.  You try one thing.  It doesn’t work.  You try something else.  Bramble was the one who made a big deal about it.  He was always obsessed with drawing attention to a town no one’s ever heard of, same thing he did with you and your website.”

“You’re a good sport, Doug,”  I said.

“I always lecture my team about good sportsmanship. I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t follow my own rules,”  Doug said.

Janet Melman was two years behind me at East Randomtown High.  She went on to become a nurse.

“Hey BQB,”  she said as she walked over in a pair of scrubs.

She turned to Doug.

“We need to talk, Mayor.  I’ve got a list of medications my patients need.  Some of them aren’t going to last long without them.”

“Excuse me, BQB,”  Doug said.  “Please, you and your friends get something to eat and get a good night’s sleep.  We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Doug and Janet walked off.

“And you thought coming here was a bad idea,”  I said.

“I’m still not convinced it wasn’t,”  VGRF said.  “This is all just a little bit too perfect.”

“Think whatever you want,”  I said.  “I’ma get me some hot soup and call another zombie author.”

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BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 14 (Part 2)

WELCOME TO HAUSER TOWN

ONLY THE WORTHY ARE WELCOME

To protect the indigenous wildlife, a tall fence ran the whole perimeter of East Randomtown Park.

VGRF pulled our ride to the front gate.

It was manned by a pack of gun toting local yokels.

There was George the Barber, who’d made his living providing men’s regular cuts for forty years.  He was packing a pretty

The DiStefano Brothers - a pair of gun toting hoodlums even when East Randomtown wasn't zombified

The DiStefano Brothers – a pair of gun toting hoodlums even when East Randomtown wasn’t zombified

fierce looking shotgun.

The DiStefano Brothers, Carl and Billy, each carried a machete in one hand and a handgun in the other.

“Halt,”  George said, shining a light into our car.  “Who dares enter Fort Hauser?”

“It’s me George,”  I said.  “BQB. You’ve been my damn barber since I was a kid.”

“That gets you no special treatment here, nerd!”  George replied.  “State your business!”

“State my business?”  I asked.  “My friends and I want to come in and not get eaten by zombies!”

“Hold please,”  George said.

The barber pulled out a walkie talkie and mumbled into it.  A few seconds later, the voice on the other end clearly stated, “Send them in.”

Carl rolled the gate open.

“Proceed directly to the Rec Center,”  George said.  “Don’t dilly dally.  Mayor Hauser is expecting you.”

“MAYOR Hauser?”  I asked.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, poindexter,”  George said.

We did as we were told.  When we reached the rec center, we hopped out of the truck and found ourselves face to face with the infamous statue in question.

It was actually two statues set on one base.  Both cast in bronze, the one on the left was of a young, chubby cheeked Doug Hauser doubled over, a pained expression on his face as the statue on the right, that of a young Don Johnson, delivered a punch to Hauser’s stomach.

On the base, a plaque read:

In Honor of Douglas Adams Houser

Thirty seconds getting the snot beaten out of you on the greatest crime drama of the 1980’s brought an infinite amount of glory to East Randomtown.

Duct taped to the side of Doug’s head was a red piece of paper that read:

OFFICIAL DECREE

This monument is to be destroyed immediately and replaced with a sculpture of Bookshelf Q. Battler.

Plaque to read, “In honor of Bookshelf Q. Battler, the East Randomtown resident whose ingenuity brought the eyes of 3.5 readers to his hallowed website.”

Signed,

Mayor Philbert T. Bramble

“We need to leave,”  VGRF said.  “This guy is going to shoot you in the head as soon as he sees you.”

shutterstock_51833212“VGRF,”  I said.  “I’ve met him before.  He came to my elementary school once and told us all about how Don Johnson left him pissing blood for a month.  Sure, that probably wasn’t the best story for a bunch of little kids to hear, but still.  Doug Hauser is East Randomtown’s favorite son. I don’t care what Bramble’s stupid decree says.”

I knocked on the glass door.

Doug’s voice came over the intercom.

“One moment.  I’m coming.”

A minute later, the door opened and Doug walked out to greet us.  He wore a dirty white undershirt, a pair of jeans and had a gun secured in a holster on his hip.  He was in his early sixties, but despite a few wrinkles, a few extra pounds, and a receding hair line, he looked just like his statue.

He took one look at me, grinned, and gave me a big hug.

“Bookshelf Q. Battler.  Thank God you found us.”

“Good to see you, Doug,”  I said.  “This is…”

“I know,”  Doug said.  “We’ve got a generator going and one of my guys rigged up a Wi-Fi hotspot.  I’ve been monitoring your survivor’s journal.  A pleasure to meet you, Video Game Rack Fighter.  Bernie.  Blandie.  And this must be…”

Doug squatted down and gave Alien Jones the old once over.  AJ was still in his incognito hipster disguise.

“Are you for real?”  Doug asked.

“Are you?”  Alien Jones replied.

“If it’s all the same,”  I said.  “We try to keep him on the down low.  Sure, I talk about him on the blog but no one ever believes any of my posts are for real.  If we could just tell everyone he’s my deformed kid with ADD, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,”  Doug said.  “Please, entre vous.  Mi casa es su casa.”

At this point, Attorney Donnelly, Official Legal Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog, advises me to state that at no time did Mr. Don Johnson, one of the greatest thespians in the history of the stage and/or screen, ever make Doug Hauser piss blood, nor did he beat him up or injure him in anyway.  Any reference to Mr. Johnson and/or Miami Vice are purely for fictional and parody purposes only. 

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BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 14 (Part 1)

October 14, 2015 – 12:00 A.M.

Night fell and we were back in the Compensator, heading west through the Great Random Forest, a tract of undeveloped land where the trees grew tall and other than the squirrels, there wasn’t much of anyone to keep a guy company.

“What’s that?”  I asked, pointing to a plywood sign.

Scrawled on it with black spray paint were the words:

Sanctuary for the Worthy

Head Ye Who Would Dare to Fort Hauser

(Formerly Known as the East Randomtown Park and Rec Center)

“Fort Hauser?”  VGRF asked.

“Hauser,”  I said.  “Doug Hauser!”

Doug Hauser - BQB's rival for the title of East Randomtown's Most Famous Citizen

Doug Hauser – BQB’s rival for the title of East Randomtown’s Most Famous Citizen

“The guy who was an extra for thirty seconds in one episode of Miami Vice in 1985?”  VGRF asked.  “The guy you beat for the title of most famous East Randomtown resident when you obtained 3.5 readers for the Bookshelf Battle Blog?”

“The same,”  I replied.  “He must have started a survivor colony.”

East Randomtown Park was a family favorite.  Picnics, concerts, sports, you name it.  It had a walking trail, a beautiful pond, tennis courts, I could go on and on.  It was one of the few locations the town had going for it.  At the Westernmost point of the tract of land was a rec center with a basketball court and a gym, not to mention an indoor track and swimming pool.

“Something doesn’t smell right,”  VGRF said.

“I’m sorry,”  Bernie said.  “That was me, yo.”

Blandie gagged.  “Oh my God!  I need air!”

“That’s not a good idea,”  VGRF said.

“It’s not a good idea to die of asphyxiation either,”  Blandie said as she rolled down her window.

Alien Jones, who was sitting between my ex and my friend, chimed in.

“I must concur with the blonde human.  The stench is quite potent.  Fairly close in molecular composition to the gas banned for warfare purposes by Intergalactic Space Law.”

“I wasn’t talking about that anyway,”  VGRF said.  “This guy just puts out signs inviting people to seek his help because…why?  The kindness of his heart?  I’m sorry but throwing in with him would be a terrible idea.”

“A zombie apocalypse can bring out the worst in people,”  I said.  “Or the best. Maybe this is Hauser at his best?”

“Your mate is astute, BQB,”  Alien Jones said.  “I sense this is the worst.”

“That’s just an old zombie apocalypse trope,”  I said.  “The old ‘invite people to a camp under the guise of charity then rob and/or murder and/or eat them’ routine.  This isn’t a book or a TV show.  This is real life.  We should check it out.”

“Aren’t you’re the last person Hauser wants to see?”  VGRF asked.  “Seeing as how Mayor Bramble was planning to have Hauser’s statue torn down and replaced with a sculpture of you?”

“I never wanted that,”  I said.  “I’m sure Hauser knows that.  Head to the park, babe.  There’s safety in numbers.  Morganstern can’t kill everyone.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,”  Alien Jones said.

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