Tag Archives: self publishing

BQB’s Production Schedule

This year has been a tough one.  As you all know, I’m an ageless fictional character who is forever a young, happening dude.

However, my friend the Alleged Man turned 38 and that has been hard on him.  He is realizing that the window for him to do all he wanted to do in life is getting shorter so if he’s going to do something he’d better do it.

So I’m taking a page out of his playbook.

At this time I have three completed first drafts: 1) Toilet Gator 2) Zom Fu 3) How the West Was Zombed.

Actually, Zom Fu has a few chapters left but it is substantially done.

I think at this point I have to put what is written above what is not written and get these three polished and published.

How the West Was Zombed worries me most.  It began as the first book in a series but as time went on I pictured it as book three.  But at best I think I can get like one draft of a book written a year and I don’t want to wait 2 more years so I think I will release How the West Was Zombed as Book 1 and then if people like it I will change it to Book 3 and release the first 2.

Or perhaps I’ll divide the series into “Zombie Westerns” and “Zombie Western Prequels.” Zombed can be the first book of the Zombie Western Series.  Later, I’ll write Remember the Zombamo and that can be the first of the prequels.

It could be better to wait and put them all out at once but I just don’t think I have the time to wait anymore.  If this self publishing thing is going to happen it must happen soon.

What say you, 3.5?

 

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I’m Phoning It In…

Yeah, 3.5.  Lots on my mind lately, so I’ve been neglecting this fine blog.  Do you have anything interesting to say?

If not, buy my fine book and get some inspiration.

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Son of Toilet Gator – Chapter 6

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Dirk and Natalya had settled into a cozy, private bedroom in the Imperial Honcho’s estate. Together, they eased back onto the bed and engaged in a rousing game of big league tonsil hockey.

“Oh Mr. Smegma,” Natalya cried as she ran her hands through her new lover’s hair.

“Please. Call me Dirk.”

“Oh Dirk! Your scent it’s so…manly.”

“Nothing but one hundred percent Eau de Dirk, baby,” Dirk said. “I find that the more cologne I put on, the more I mask my naturally macho odor and when I do that, the ladies are left disappointed.”

“I’m sure you do all you can to avoid being a disappointment,” Natalya said.

“In life and in the bedroom, baby,” Dirk said as he went in for another kiss, only to be rebuffed when Natalya pressed her finger up against his lips.

“Hold that thought, darling. I must tinkle.”

“I understand,” Dirk said. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to lose bladder control in my presence and I doubt you’ll be the last. Do hurry back my dear.”

As Natalya retreated to the bathroom, Kendra squawked in Dirk’s ear. “Dirk! What are you doing?!”

“Uh,” Dirk whispered into a tiny microphone implanted in his shirt collar. “What does it sound like I’m doing? I’m about to get my pickle tickled, duh!”

“Have you placed the tracker on the Imperial Honcho’s toilet yet?” Kendra asked.

“Not now, K-Diddy,” Dirk said. “I’ve got a piece of fabulously wealthy Russian cooze to attend to.”

“We’re on a tight schedule here!” Kendra said.

“Oh I know it’s going to be very tight,” Dirk said. “But don’t worry, I’ll squeeze it in.”

“Pervert,” Kendra said. “Do I really have to go over the mission particulars with you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Dirk said. “But you will anyway…”

“Damn right I will,” Kendra said. “As we speak, Skippy Jr. is waiting in the septic tank. We have twenty minutes before the guards on our payroll bury the tank so they can avoid being caught. You need to get to that toilet, mark it, get the hell out of there and leave Skippy Jr. enough time to chow down on the Honcho, and exit out of the tank just in time to be snatched by the skyhook.”

“Which leaves me roughly five minutes to plant my skyhook in some snatch,” Dirk said. “Plenty of time.”

“Five minutes?” Kendra asked. “I wouldn’t brag about that.”

“Bshh bzzt,” Dirk said. “Oh no, Special-K, you’re breaking up…”

“Don’t you cut me off, Smegma,” Kendra said.

“Bzzt bshhk,” Dirk said. “Oh my God I’m just going to have to enjoy some meaningless, gratuitous sex with a beautiful woman and then go save the day.”

“Dirk,” Kendra said. “Gamble with your own life all you want, but you’re putting Skippy Jr. at risk.”

“Skippy Jr.?” Dirk asked. “Who cares? He’s just a dumb alligator. If we lose him we can just get that crazy professor to make some more.”

A third voice entered Dirk’s earpiece. “Raarga.”

Dirk’s eyes widened. “Oh…hey Skippy Jr., how are you doing buddy?”

“Raarga.”

“Gee whiz,” Dirk said. “I didn’t know this was a party line.”

“Raarga.”

“Don’t mind him, Skippy Jr.,” Kendra said. “He knows not what he does.”

The bathroom door opened. Natalya stepped out. She had changed into a skimpy, silky piece of lingerie. She’d let her hair down and removed her shoes.

“I’m sorry I took so long, Dirk,” Natalya said. “I had to change into something more comfortable.”

Dirk gulped as he checked out Natalya’s body. “Mind? No, I don’t have a mind at all.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” came Kendra’s voice into the earpiece. “You think women just walk around with a sexy outfit to change into? The bitch is probably a spy.”

Dirk ignored Kendra and patted a spot on the bed next to him. The lady sat down, kissed Dirk passionately, then lifted her leg up into the air, landing the foot on Dirk’s right shoulder.

“Tell me, Dirk,” Natalya said. “Are you a leg man?”
“I’m actually an ass man,” Dirk replied. “Though I’ve never been one to sneeze at a pair of getaway sticks as lovely as these.”

“Getaway sticks?” Natalya asked.

“Just a fun term we use for legs in the U.S.,” Dirk said. “Because they’re a couple of sticks a woman can use to get away.”

Natalya used her foot to push on the side of Dirk’s head until he laid back on the bed.

“I love my legs, don’t you?” Natalya asked.

“Oh sweetheart,” Dirk said. “I love everything about you.”

“Gag me,” came Kendra’s voice.

“Tell me, Dirk,” Natalya said. “Do you enjoy the taste of a woman?”

“Meh,” Dirk said. “I prefer to receive than give, baby, but I’m always down with a little cunnilingus if the favor is returned.”

Natalya straddled Dirk’s face, leaving a panty clad vagina to land right on his face.

“Oh,” Dirk said. “Hello there, that’s quite a…mmpphh!”

“Dirk,” came Kendra’s voice. “I’m reviewing Natayla Snatchatova’s file and it’s no good. You need to get out of there right now.”

Natalya pushed herself further down onto Dirk’s face, leaving the agent so he could barely breathe. “Mmpph!”

“Her father is Anatoly Popov’s number one campaign contributor,” Kendra said. “She’s involved in all sorts of black market dealings…”

“How’s that, my love?” Natalya asked.

Dirk’s muffled cries for help grew more serious. “Mmmph!”

“She’s a top hit woman for the FSB,” Kendra said. “Interpol suspects of her murdering fifty men with her vagina alone.”

Dirk grabbed hold of Natalya’s legs and pushed up with all his might. Finally, he gasped for air and was able to speak. “Do…you…expect me to…lick?”

“Muah ha ha!” Natalya said. “No, Mr. Smegma. I expect you to die!”

Natalya clamped her legs down around Dirk’s head, leaving the hero feeling as though his cranium was trapped in a silky smooth vice. He gasped for air as he stood up. He flailed about the room but it was of no use, as Natalya refused to release her snatchtastic grip.
Dirk ran into a wall, hoping the blow would knock his assailant off, but she simply grinder her lady business into the agent’s face harder.

“Dirk?” Kendra asked. “Are you alright? Jesus, you’re literally going to be killed by a pussy, aren’t you? No surprise there.”

Completely blinded by vagina, both on a personal but more importantly, on a physical level, Dirk felt around the room until he found the bathroom door.

“Muah ha ha!” Natalya cried. “Die, Mr. Smega! Die by the lips of my vatrushka!”

Dirk stumbled into the bathroom. He pulled a small black box out of his pocket and flipped a switch, causing a light on the device to blink red. He then tossed the gadget into the toilet.

Crack! Dirk thrashed his attacker into the mirror, smashing it into pieces. Natalya was unfazed, her sole focus on murdering Dirk with her beaver.

“Poor Mr. Smegma,” Natalya said as she tightened the grip of her legs around the back of Dirk’s neck. “I’m so sorry you must leave but you must admit darling, there are worse ways to go.”

The toilet rumbled.

“Dirk,” came Kendra’s voice. “Please tell me you didn’t…”

Dirk grabbed the woman and pushed her away from his face with all his might. Natalya was strong, causing Dirk’s muscle’s to strain as he pushed.

Boom! The toilet exploded, sending porcelain shards everywhere. Dirk managed to hurl the woman off of his face just in time for her to land inside…the jaws of a hungry toilet gator.

“Raarga!”

Skippy Jr. was just a big as his father – fifteen feet long and over a thousand pounds. His sheer bulk pushed Dirk right out of the bathroom, leaving him to land on the floor. As he caught his breath, he could hear Natalya’s blood curdling screams, followed by the sound of bones snapping between a pair of gator jaws.

“That is the absolute last time anyone ever talks me into giving a little mouth to the south!” Dirk declared.

Skippy Jr. waddled out of the bathroom. “Raarga.”

Dirk patted the gator on the head. “That’ll do, gator. That’ll do.”

“Dirk,” Kendra said. “Please don’t tell me you just wasted the one and only tracker you had on a toilet not being used by the Imperial Honcho.”

“OK,” Dirk said. “I will not tell you that.”

A fist pounded on the bedroom door. “This is the Imperial Honcho’s Select Guard! What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Dirk said. “Hey there, fellas. Everything’s fine.”

“We heard strange noises,” the guard said.

“Oh yeah,” Dirk said. “You know me. I can get kind of wild in the sack.”

“We’re coming in,” the guard said.

“What are you going to do now, doofus?” Kendra asked.

“Now?” Dirk asked as he climbed onto Skippy Jr.’s back. “I’m going to improvise.”

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I Have Made An Entire Dollar off My Book Sales

Yup.  I didn’t have a dollar before and now I have a dollar.  Dolla dolla make you holla, y’all.

Bookshelf Q battlers for Amazon

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Toilet Gator is the Best Novel Ever

I just breezed through reading the full first draft and I’d forgotten a lot of what I wrote.  Yeah, this book is funny as all get out.  I should win like a thousand awards for this thing.  Surely, if there is a “Best Book Ever Written About Toilet Gators” then that award should be mine.

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Zom Fu – Chapter 64

tabletdemo

The members of the Clan of the Mediocre Yet Effective Club Bonk struggled on the palace steps to hold back the zombie invaders. Several of them had fallen victim to the Clan of the Terrifyingly Unnatural Brain Bite.

Junjie observed the carnage, then looked to the Staff of Ages. The ruby glowed red once more.

“The Staff of Ages has been freed of Dragonhand’s influence,” the Infallible Master said. “It belongs to its true master once again. Wield it freely and it will know exactly what you wish it to do.”

Junjie closed his eyes and raised the staff high into the air. Thunder claps sounded overhead. Multiple bolts of lightning tore through the sky and zapped their way into the staff, until the ancient device began to glow bright white.

Once more, the handsome hero pointed the staff toward the sky and a colossal lighting bolt of unfathomable size lit up the night sky. It pulsated in the heavens, dancing and flickering about until it separated into hundreds of smaller lighting bolts. Each bolt found a different zombie brain to pierce. Soon, every last brain biter in the Forbidden City was destroyed, while the remaining humans survived unscathed.

The clubbers cheered. Junjie cheered. “Master, I can’t believe that….Master?”

The Infallible Master was nowhere to be found, except in Junjie’s mind. “There is no more that I can teach you now, my son. It is time for you to become the master, and time for me to wile away many a year in Diyu.”

“Diyu?” Junjie asked out loud. Those in the handsome hero’s general vicinity might have thought the young man had gone mad had they not seen so many other frightening wonders that day. “I thought you said you would never be able to pass on to the other side.”

“A Master has his ways,” came the Infallible Master inside Junjie’s brain. “The older we get, the more realize what we once thought is impossible is, in fact, quite possible.”

“There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Junjie said.

“Perhaps,” the Infallible Master said. “But the task of rebuilding the devastated kung fu clans is ahead of you now. The last thing you need to do is to worry about me.”

“Wait,” Junjie said. “Will I ever see you again?”

The master’s voice laughed. “Yes. It will seem like an eternity but remember, time is but a trick of the mind. We shall have our reunion one day, if not in the gloomy abyss of Diyu, then surely in the warm embrace of Heaven.”

“Can I talk to you?” Junjie asked.
The master’s voice laughed again. “Oh my son. I spent so much time with my master that I hear him even when he does not speak to me. You will see me and hear me in everything you do, regardless of whether or not we actually speak again.”

“That’s very cryptic,” Junjie said.

“Meh,” the Infallible Master said. “I am a kung fu master. It is what I do.”

“Goodbye, Master,” Junjie said.

“No,” the Infallible Master said. “Not goodbye. Never goodbye. I will see you later.”

A tear streamed down Junjie’s cheek. “I will see you later, Master.”

And with that, the voice inside Junjie’s head was gone.

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And Now Zom Fu Returns…

tabletdemo

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

Yeah, it’s unfortunate I ended up taking a little hiatus on Zom Fu.  Ironically, I did so right at the end.

When last we left our epic tale, Junjie had just defeated Dragonhand, the Master of the Clan of the Terrifyingly Unnatural Brain Bite.

It’s pretty much cleanup from now on, just the the final chapters where we learn what happens to our heroes after the story concludes.

Good news!  That means I should have another draft of a novel done within a month, perhaps sooner depending on how much time I can put into it.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 107

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“Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

In the cockpit of an Apache attack helicopter that just happened to fall off the back of a truck, Moses was having his very own Wilhelm Richard Wagner party, playing the great composer’s seminal work, “The Flight of the Valkyries” at full volume on a kick-ass stereo system.

The ex-military man turned gun range owner sang along, or rather, made instrumental sounds to distract his mind from the fact that he was flying straight into the crushing winds of a hurricane. “Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

Thick, heavy raindrops pelted the chopper’s windshield, mimicking the drops of sweat that rolled down Moses’ forehead. He had never been one to lose his cool, but he was growing ever more concerned by the fact that he was attempting to point his huey one way, but the wind was certain it should be going another. He gritted his teeth and gripped the stick and pushed as hard as he could, waging a one man battle against Mother Nature.

The chopper’s coms radio squawked. “Pssht…unidentified aircraft……come in…over.

Moses ignored the hail and kept right on singing his Wagner. “Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

“Unidentified air craft…this is Air Force central command…respond or you will be blown out of the sky.”

Moses turned down the music and responded. “Boy, who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You sound like you’re knee high to a pig’s thigh.”

“Identify yourself,” the voice said.

“Sergeant Moses T. Malone, United States Marine Corps, retired,” Moses said. “Who the hell are you?”

“This is Captain Barry Bostwick, U.S. Air Force, active duty. Turn back and land immediately. You’re flying an unauthorized military grade helicopter into a civilian area.”

“I’m aware, Barry,” Moses said. “That toilet gator aint gonna blow himself up now is he?”

“Excuse me?” Barry asked.

“There’s no excuse for you,” Moses said. “Son I was running all kinds of special ops long before you had hair on your nuts. Snatch and grabs. Run and guns. You name it. I bailed out Uncle Sam out of more jams than I can count so I won’t hear any more of your insubordinate lip. Let me guess, you got yourself a pretty starched uniform without a speck of dirt on it because you used your connections to rise to the top without wading a single toe into the shit…am I right?”

Barry scoffed. “How did you…look, we’re not here to talk about me.”

“I knew it,” Moses said. “You brass types are all the same. Plenty of brass in the phony medals on your shirt, not one scintilla of brass in your balls.”

“Do you have any idea how many laws you are breaking right now?” Barry asked.

“Can’t say for sure,” Moses said. “Between state, federal and local laws and regulations, I’m willing to wager upwards of 1,098. Am I close?”

“I don’t know,” Barry said. “I didn’t count them all out myself either. How the hell are you flying an Apache attack helicopter?”

“Fell off the back of a truck,” Moses said.

“It fell off a…sir, land that chopper right now or we’ll blow you out of the sky,” Barry said.

“Oh yeah?” Moses said. “You and what Air Force?”

“The Air Force,” Barry said. “The real live actual air force will blow you to bits.”

Moses peered through the rain soaked cockpit window. “I’m calling your bluff, boy. I don’t see a damn thing and Lord knows you all aren’t going to send a couple of multi-million dollar fighter jets into the certain doom of a hurricane just to take out my sorry ass.”

Barry accidentally left his thumb on the call button as he talked to other Air Force personnel in the command center. “Shit, he called our bluff and…oh, shit…is this thing still on? Look man, I don’t care what you have to say, land that thing now.”

“Can’t,” Moses said. “Gotta gator to kill.”

“The toilet gator?” Barry asked.

“Is there another one?” Moses asked.

“Wow,” Barry said. “We’ve been watching Cole Walker fight that gator on TV all day. I put fifty bucks on the gator in the office pool.”

“Well son,” Moses said. “Prepare for your wallet to be fifty simoleons lighter, because I’m gonna rip that lizard a new one…maybe a hundred new ones. Now get off the squawk box and let an ex-marine do his duty.”

“I guess we can look the other way for awhile,” Barry said. “But you’re still in a metric shit ton’s worth of trouble.”

“You know son,” Moses said. “I don’t think I am. All those laws you say I broke? I got a defense.”

“Really?” Barry asked. “Let’s hear it.”
“The Second Amendment,” Moses said.

Barry laughed. “Please.”

“I have the right to bear arms,” Moses said.

“The right to bear arms, yes,” Barry said. “The right to an Apache attack helicopter? No.”

“Well,” Moses said. “I suppose that might be a namby pamby liberal pantywaist interpretation of the Second Amendment, the kind someone who wants to crawl up inside Hilary Clinton’s vagina and take a nap might make.”

“Don’t give me that,” Barry said. “I’m a conservative, sir. I just don’t think the Founding Fathers anticipated the invention of the Apache attack helicopter. If they had, they would not want them in the hands of private citizens.”

“Yeah, well,” Moses said. “The Founding Fathers didn’t anticipate that there’d ever be a thousand pound toilet gator running amuck through downtown Sitwell, Florida, being all impervious to regular gunfire now did they?”

“I suppose not,” Barry said.

“The Founding Fathers wanted us to be able to protect ourselves with force commensurate to the attack being waged upon us,” Moses said. “If you’ve been watching that toilet gator in action, then you know this fabulous flying machine of death, destruction and mayhem is a more than reasonable option to defend against that surly beast.”

“Be that as it may…”

“Son,” Moses said. “Just thank me for doing that job for you. You all are watching the news. You’ve seen what that gator could do. You all should be sending all the fire and are power you got at that thing, hurricane be damned. But you’re all pussies, so just sit back and let a real man show you how it’s done.”

“But I….”

“Shh,” Moses said as he switched off the call. “No more talking.”

Moses turned up his Wagner. “Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

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