Category: life

John McGuire is the author of the supernatural thriller The Dark That Follows, the steampunk comic The Gilded Age, and the novella There’s Something About Mac through the Amazon Kindle Worlds program.

His second novel, Hollow Empire, is now complete. Each episode is only $0.99. But you can go ahead and purchase the full novel (all 6 episodes) right now for $4.99 with the above link!

He also has a short story in the recently released anthology Beyond the Gate, which is free on most platforms!

He can also be found at www.johnrmcguire.com.

No Delusions of Grandeur

By J Edward Neill art, humor, life, writing

Skulls. Sand. Shadows.

Three of my favorite things.

As I near the release of this, and thus slam the door shut on a too-long writing project, I sit in a rotting leather chair, my feet propped on a destroyed-by-cats ottoman, and reflect on my existence. I should be happier, I think. I should shimmer like Twilight’s vampires and bounce like Barney the fucking dinosaur after a line of coke. Throw a party, I tell myself. Celebrate it. Relish it. Savor it.

Fuck it.

I’m not in the mood.

It’s not that I don’t feel a sublime sense of satisfaction. Or oceans of relief. It’s just that tonight, with the wind battering my windows and my candle sputtering its final breaths, I feel a little bit pointless. Self-satisfaction, I tell myself, is for the narcissistic. Get your ass back to work, my brain commands. Right. Now. And I will. There won’t be a party. Or a fist pump. Or even a celebratory glass of wine.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there to hear it, does it make a sound?

Yes.

If I finish a book and only a few thousand people read it, does it matter?

Yes.

Maybe.

As I gloom in my writing cave, I’m reminded of a poem from the 70’s. The Deteriorata is a prose-form poem written to both mock and celebrate 1927’s Desiderata. It pretty well summates my feelings, my ‘F it’ mood, my devotion to sarcasm, cynicism, and indifference, and my awareness that a few quick breaths from now, the fleeting afterglow of publishing a million words will vanish into the air. As though it had never been.

Here it is:

Deteriorata

You are a fluke of the universe. You have no right to be here
Deteriorata. Deteriorata

Go placidly amid the noise and waste
And remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof
Avoid quiet and passive persons, unless you are in need of sleep
Rotate your tires
Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself
And heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys
Know what to kiss, and when
Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do
Wherever possible, put people on hold
Be comforted that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment
And despite the changing fortunes of time
There is always a big future in computer maintenance

You are a fluke of the universe
You have no right to be here
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back

Remember The Pueblo
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and mutilate
Know yourself
If you need help, call the FBI
Exercise caution in your daily affairs
Especially with those persons closest to you –
That lemon on your left, for instance
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls
Would scarcely get your feet wet
Fall not in love therefore. It will stick to your face
Gracefully surrender the things of youth: birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan
And let not the sands of time get in your lunch
Hire people with hooks
For a good time, call 606-4311. Ask for Ken
Take heart in the bedeepening gloom
That your dog is finally getting enough cheese
And reflect that whatever fortune may be your lot
It could only be worse in Milwaukee

You are a fluke of the universe
You have no right to be here
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back

Therefore, make peace with your god
Whatever you perceive him to be – hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin
With all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban renewal
The world continues to deteriorate
Give up

(Tony Hendra, National Lampoon Radio Dinner, 1972)

And so I’ll close up shop tonight, contented but not. I’ll eat some Ramen, knock back a Scorsese film, and plot new beginnings tomorrow. There’s no glory in finishing one book…nor six…nor likely a hundred. There’s no party long enough to satisfy me nor a woman cold and cruel enough to fascinate me.

It doesn’t matter.

I’m not giving up.

Love,

The End of Office Life

By J Edward Neill humor, life, writing

As children, who among us dreamed of being an office worker when we grew up?

None of us.

Say it again slowly: None. Of. Us.

Office work? Pshhhh. We kids had huger ideas. We dreamed of being astronauts, doctors, fighter jet pilots, quarterbacks, world travelers, and movie stars. We imagined big things, challenging things, awesome things. Now…some of us actually realized our dreams. Some of us went to school, nurtured our talent, and climbed mountains to reach the top. And I salute those people. Well played. Well done.

On the flip side, some of us ended up like this dude up above. Sticks and bones. Eyes glued to a screen. Cogs in the corporate machine. And are completely fine with it. Do a job. Get a paycheck. Go home and forget work even exists. Equally admirable.

But still more of us (the majority, I bet) lie somewhere in-between. We who exist at work, but don’t thrive in it. We who kick ass at our jobs, but ache for something more. We who do what needs to be done, but know in our hearts happiness lies in some other place beyond our desks, our computers, and our monolithic stacks of paper, files, and utter boredom.

Ever seen Office Space? Of course you have. Everyone’s seen Office Space. I mean, c’mon! Remember what Peter says while pondering his corporate enslavement? Goes something like:

“It’s not just about me and my dream of doing nothing. It’s about all of us. I don’t know what happened to me at that hypnotherapist and…I don’t know…maybe it was just shock and it’s wearing off now, but when I saw that fat man keel over and die – Michael, we don’t have a lot of time on this earth! We weren’t meant to spend it this way. Human beings were not meant to sit in little cubicles staring at computer screens all day, filling out useless forms and listening to eight different bosses drone on about mission statements.”

It’s a funny movie. But between the jokes lies a grave truth. The world of soul-sucking, mind-numbing, keyboard-pounding office life is real. I know. I live it.

And I want out. Many of us do, I wager.

They say that in life if someone wants something badly enough, one can have it. With hard work, perseverance, and blah, blah, blah, one can throw off the shackles of one’s past and forge a newer, sharper, more satisfying existence. I’ve read books on it. Every other Facebook post hints at it. I hear people talk about it. Cat posters everywhere scream it.

And yet.

The longer I sit here.

The more I feel myself becoming this guy:

Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhhh…

It doesn’t matter that I forget about work the moment I leave. Or that I remind myself life could be much, much worse. Doesn’t matter one bit. Every dawn I march to work, I die a little bit inside. I fear someday I’ll wake up wearing an ugly tie and suspenders. Or that I’ll make guest appearances in my employees’ dreams…banging their wives and girlfriends with a cup of coffee in hand. I don’t even drink coffee.

Normally this would be the part where I beg you, my readers, to buy all my books and rescue me from this life. But no, not today. Today I just wanna vent. To wage a mini-war against my inner Bill Lumbergh, and to call for solidarity amongst my office slave by day/creative warlord by night brethren.

Keep battling. Keep creating. Keep training, fighting, painting, writing, and kicking ass.

It will happen for you. You will defeat your office life.

Ok. No you probably won’t. But even so…

That’s why they invented wine.

Love,

Author of the Tyrants of the Dead dark fantasy trilogy

Once Upon a Time…

By John McGuire life

I once brought a dagger on a plane.

And this wasn’t pre-9/11, and it wasn’t a domestic flight, no this was an international flight to Atlanta via New York.

And it was just over 1 year (by a handful of days) after the tragedy.

Yes, apparently I am that dumb.

I also believe that memories connected to items and objects are more likely to be stronger than those that we only rely on pure memory for. It isn’t 100% fool-proof, but more than one time I’ve come across something that triggered a memory long since lost.

For our honeymoon, my wife and I did a cruise of the western Mediterranean which included, among Spain, France, and Italy, a little country off the coast of Italy called Malta. And while we were there I saw this dagger.

I don’t know exactly why, and honestly, if I had given it more thought I would have talked myself out of buying it in the first place. The logistics of having a weapon on a cruise trip, trying to bring a weapon onto a plane in any capacity much less in the world we were then living in. But my analytic brain was on vacation as well. So I paid for the piece of memory and we went back to our sight-seeing.

It wasn’t until we were getting back on the ship that I thought anything of it.

“Oh, how are we supposed to handle this?”

I spoke to one of the cruise employees who informed me that they would have the Master of Arms for the ship take it and secure it in a vault until we finally left the ship for good.

Again, it should have occurred to me that this might be a problem when we finally got to the Barcelona airport.

But it didn’t, not until we were packing on that final day. I had the blade wrapped up… it wasn’t sharp, but it was still a big knife and I didn’t want it to tear anything else in the suitcase. I think we placed it near the top in case we needed to show it to someone in charge.

So they did the whole thing of the standard questions:

“Has your bags been with you the whole time?”

“Had anyone asked you to blah blah?”

I think she asked something else, but it was at that point I knew I should speak up.

“I have a decorative dagger in the luggage I’m about to check.”

Her face told me that she wasn’t sure if I had really spoken English to her in that moment. Her brain flew through its various calculations about how to ask me “What the Hell?” without saying those specific words.

“I’m sorry?”

“In my luggage, I have a decorative dagger. We bought it in Malta as a souvenir, but I’m not sure how we are supposed to handle it.” Never mind the fact that decorative might not be the correct adjective to use, I thought just saying dagger all by itself would prove more troublesome.

Again her brain whirled and buzzed, perhaps her eyes rolled up inside her brain as the little women who controlled her brain began scrambling for the proper response. Finally after what seemed like minutes but was probably only a couple of seconds she held up a finger. “Let me call someone.”

Courtney and I waited off to the side for her superior to show up. When he did they stepped away and had a discussion. Since I don’t speak Spanish, I’m not entirely sure what specifics were uttered, but after a minute or so the superior came over to me.

“What is the issue?”

It’s that feeling you get when you have been on the phone with a Help Desk and they are passing you along to someone else. They’ve been taking notes this whole time… you hear them tapping away at their keyboard, but as soon as you get transferred the next person asks you THE EXACT SAME QUESTIONS. I always think, “Why even write it down if you aren’t going to look at it.”

In this case I figured I’d give them the benefit of the doubt with the language difference and whatnot.

“We have a decorative dagger… a souvenir in our luggage.”

“Let me see it.”

So I unzipped our bag and carefully unwrapped the dagger on the counter. He may have lifted it to inspect it, if he did it was a very brief inspection. Either way he stepped aside with the original lady and they began discussing it. This conversation lasted a little longer (maybe 2 minutes), and then he came back, told me to wrap it up and put it in the bag and then they took the bag. No problem.

“Oh, they probably just said ‘Let the Americans deal with it in New York.'”

And that’s what I thought. I cursed the idea we were flying into New York instead of Atlanta. There is no way we’re getting that Dagger back home. Money completely wasted. Why didn’t I think this through?

We arrived in New York…

and no one said anything to us. Nobody pulled us aside to say they had gotten a note about the weapon, there was no detention, there was nothing. Now, granted, it wasn’t in our carry-on or anything, but still… I wasn’t expecting nothing.

Again in Atlanta there was nothing said. I began to wonder if we had said nothing in Barcelona would they have even noticed. So either clearly it wasn’t deemed important enough for them to bother with. To this day, whenever I look at the dagger I’m shocked that it is sitting on the mantle rather than in some storage bin in Spain or New York.

But no, they didn’t keep that memory and for that I am grateful.

***

His second novel, Hollow Empire, is now complete. Each episode is only $0.99. But you can go ahead and purchase the full novel (all 6 episodes) right now for $4.99 with the above link!

He also has a short story in the recently released anthology Beyond the Gate, which is free on most platforms!

He can also be found at www.johnrmcguire.com.

Love is a battlefield

By J Edward Neill humor, life

Undeniable modern truth ^

Ok.

I admit it.

This article has nothing to do with books, art, movies, comics, or skulls. It’s not a quiz. It’s not philosophical. It’s not even this. I promise I’m not gonna try to sell you anything.

…except the truth.

The cold hard facts are these: Dating is nothing like it once was. Nor will it ever be again. That’s not to say it was easy in the past. (It wasn’t.) But in the modern technological era, the challenges of connecting with another human go way beyond working up the courage to approach them. Approaching is now the easy part. It’s everything else that’s a minefield.

Used to be, as recently as the early 2000’s, Americans would date almost exclusively within their circle of friends. In other words: lack of access to a huge pool of people restricted dating options to a few hundred potential mates…at most. If you didn’t have a wide range of friends, didn’t go out much, or didn’t work at a large company with hundreds of employees, chances are your options were extremely limited.

Throw all of that out the window.

Today, dating options are nearly unlimited. In less than the span of a single generation, Americans have completely flipped the culture upside-down. Now, instead of a few hundred potential mates (if you were lucky) we singles have access to millions. Instead of happy hour or singles night at the club, we have all that and dozens of dating sites, ie; Match, Plenty of Fish, Zoosk, EHarmony, as well as the dreaded Tinder. Hell, even married people have it easier to cheat with creeptastic sites like Ashley Madison. In literally five minutes, one can make a profile, weed out millions of potentials with a few clicks, and set up a date. Add in Uber’s new black car service, and you, yes you, are only about ten minutes removed from an amazing night out.

…or an utterly mediocre one.

…along with 1,000 other weird things we humans do.

Enter: the dark side of complete dating freedom.

The obvious truth is that with the ease of finding new partners via huge available dating pools, daters have too…many…choices. If Guy A and Woman B meet via Match.com, hit it off well, and enjoy several steamy dates, that’s all well and good. Prior to 2000, this neat little couple might have willingly closed the door to other potentials and moved on into a serious, meaningful relationship. But in the modern era, what happens when Guy A observes some small fault in Woman B or when Woman B realizes Guy A just isn’t as tall as her usual crop? Way too often…it’s back to the drawing board. The modern dating culture allows it, so why not? Why not seek utter perfection? Why shouldn’t every woman have their 6’3″, chiseled-abs, wealthy, handsome, funny, fastidious, college-educated, well-cultured man? And why shouldn’t every guy have a level-headed, successful, highly intelligent supermodel? If love (or at least a three-night stand) lies only a few clicks away, why not?

Because there is no perfection.

Consider these facts from several recent dating studies:

-Algorithms can’t predict whether two people are compatible-

A group of U.S. psychology professors collaborated, describing the faults of online dating, which was published in the journal Psychological Science in the Public Interest. Professors stated that the sites couldn’t predict whether a relationship would last just because two people had similar interests and personalities. According to Professor Eli Finkel, who worked on the report, “They do not [work].”

-Couples who meet online are more likely to break up-

Researchers from Stanford University and Michigan State University surveyed more than 4,000 people. They learned that breakups were far more common in couples who met online versus offline. They claim that the phenomenon holds true for both married and unmarried couples.

-81% of people lie about their height, weight, or age in their online dating profiles-

University of Wisconsin-Madison researchers weighed and measured subjects in addition to checking their driver’s licenses for their actual ages, and then looked at their subjects’ online dating profiles. Women tended to claim that they were 8.5 pounds lighter than they actually were. Men lied by less—only two pounds—but rounded up their height by a half inch more often. (mentalfloss.com – Merideth Danko)

***

Ultimately, the trend is unlikely to stop. Much like Google opened up a planet’s worth of previously difficult-to-find information, Amazon allowed travel-free shopping, and porn sites across the world eliminated any apparent need to talk birds and bees with any kid over the age of 8, so too does online dating change the game completely and forever. This is where we’re at now. Total. Dating. Freedom. Let’s be clear, it’s unfair to judge people using dating sites. I’ve tried them myself, several times, with varying levels of success. And yet, deep down in my heart, I came to understand that total freedom paired with the almost cruel reduction of people to photos and profile blurbs wasn’t necessarily the ticket to happiness. And so I stopped. Cold turkey.

Look, it’s true that the past was far from ideal. It’s not like dating in the 50’s, 80’s, and 90’s wasn’t clunky and unpredictable. But anymore, singles have wandered into a warzone. For every one couple the creepy EHarmony guys brags about bringing together, oceans of people are drowning in disappointment. The internet promises plenty. But how often does it really deliver? Because let’s face it, most of us don’t want to date endlessly or swim down rivers of one-night stands. Most of us probably don’t even want the statistical perfection online dating appears to offer. We just want to find someone cool. Someone who gets us. Someone who won’t leave after an awesome date only to start clicking through more profiles the moment they get home.

I’m just sayin’.

The grass ain’t always greener.

Use your intuition, not your impulse.

Back to skulls and dark fantasy novels next week, I promise.

http://instagram.com/amandamakepeace/

Author of this:

And co-author of this.

10 Things – Cats in the Studio

By Amanda Makepeace art, humor, life

I’ve lived with a cat in my art studio since 2006 when Shadow was still shy of a year old and we lived near the Dorset coast in England. Initially, I tried to keep her out of the studio, but her cries were relentless. Over the years I’ve come to learn some valuable lessons and hard truths.

1. Cats love to be involved in the creative process.

Yessss, these are the colors.

2. If you can’t find that certain pad of paper chances are, they are sitting on it.

I haven’t seen your watercolor paper.

3. Never leave works in progress unattended. Remember, they like to be involved.

It needs my special touch.

4. Learn to incorporate cat hair into your paintings. Chances are there are more than a few strands of fur in this painting. It is what it is.

Sticking with the theme…

5. Cats will attempt to sway your creative decisions.

Are you sure you want to draw that?

6. Everything is for climbing. Everything.

Mom, look what I can do!

7. A warm lap must be made available at all times, no matter what you’re doing.

Oh, you’re painting?

8. They are never too young to begin ~~disrupting~~ learning what you do.

I want to try!

9. You may feel like working through lunch, but they won’t. Ever.

Are you done working yet?

10. All of the above rules apply both inside and outside the studio.

I’m going to sit on your art till you pay attention to me.

Instagram: Inside (and Outside) the Artist’s Studio

By Amanda Makepeace art, creativity, life

Instagram has become one of my favorite social media outlets. I love following my favorite artists (and art directors) for a peek into their lives and studio adventures. Photos from exhibitions and conventions I can’t attend are a special treat. I even follow a few authors too! Instagram’s unobtrusiveness is what attracts me most. There’s a lot to see, but it’s not being thrown in your face. There are no obligations to like everything that scrolls across your dashboard, nor to write a monologue. For someone as visual as I am, posting a photo with only a few words is perfect and it keeps the introvert in me happy. Instagram is also a great marketing tool. Sharing works in progress and sketches are popular posts, plus the app is able to share to Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and Flickr all at the same time. Perfect.

Below is a taste of the types of images I post. I usually tell people I post photos of art, trees and cats.

Photographing art on my deck.

Sun, clouds, trees

Crow Skull Sketch

My Dragon Con 2014 Badge

One of my studio assistants

Shooting reference for a painting

Nature walk discoveries

Magic the Gathering

The moon

North Georgia Mountain trips

Painting in Photoshop

Works in Progress

Watercolors

Renascentia

Files for my book

Instagram Tips:

1. Hashtags are your friend. This is a hashtag –> #art #catsofinstagram #dragoncon. Posting a few, as they relate to your photo, help others find your posts. If I want to see who else is posting photos from Dragon Con I can click on the hashtag in the app and see all the photos being posted with that tag.

2. If someone comments on your photo be sure to respond by placing a @ in front of their username (ex. @amandamakepeace), otherwise they won’t see your response.

3. Fill out your profile completely and don’t forget to add a link to your website or shop!

4. If someone leaves you a spam comment you can block them. Go to their profile and click on the rectangular icon with the arrow (top right corner in the iOS app) and choose to block or report.

5. Building a following takes time. Be consistent with your posts, don’t over post, and interact by leaving comments on photos your love.

Ten MORE Questions for Humanity

By J Edward Neill humor, life

For the original 10 Questions for Humanity, go HERE.

For my new philosophy book, 101 Questions for Humanity, click here!

As for today, you get ten MORE questions. Because…thought provoking.

***

A Moment of Omniscience

If you could ask ONE question of the universe and have it answered utterly and completely, what would it be?

This One’s Rhetorical

Why do so many people get so angry about politics?

No Judgments, I Promise

From the following, choose the worst thing you could possibly be addicted to: Alcohol, Drugs, Sex, Gambling…or TV…

UFC 666: Jesus versus Superman

If you could lock any two historical figures (dead or alive) in a cage for a fight to the death, which two would you pick?

That Song by The Clash

A fascinating new planet is discovered far from Earth. You can journey there safely and live out your life, but it’s a one-way ticket for you and whomever you take. Do you stay or go?

Stepford Wives (And Husbands)

Let’s say science perfects an absolutely lifelike robot for use as a spouse. And let’s say this beautiful, intelligent, customized-to-you robot will do anything and everything you ask. You buying one?

Continuing the Shallow Theme

Perfect body? Perfect face? Or perfect intellect?

Crimes Against Ourselves

Considering everything, does humanity deserve to exist?

In the Battle Between

Is there any such thing as absolute good or evil?

Back to the Future

You’ve built a time machine. It only goes one direction in time. Do you want to see how it all began? Or how it all will end?

***

Disclaimer 1: In observance of Tessera’s no politics, no religion policy, please eat salt after reading this

Disclaimer 2: I know the answers. I’m more interested in what you have to say

To support all of my bad habits, check this out:

Love,

J Edward Neill

Tips for dating a writer

By J Edward Neill humor, life, writing

…Tips For Dating a Writer…

A sarcastic (mostly) blog about the dangers of sleeping with word-nerds.

#1. Don’t.

#2. Say everything twice. Your special significant other won’t be listening the first time. (On the plus side, this means you get to take free shots at them when starting up conversations.)

#3. Adjust your expectations. Your days of being numero uno are over. Once the computer starts humming or the pencil starts moving, you’re just dust in the wind. I recommend getting a pet. Or a second job. Or maybe even a backup guy/girl. Just don’t date two writers simultaneously. (If they ever meet, the world will end.)

#4. Spill their coffee, fine. Break their phone, ok. But F up their computer or damage their manuscript, and it’s time to prep the couch for a long winter. Of you. Sleeping on it.

#5. Don’t ever offer to read their stuff. If they force you to (and they will,) never lie about its quality. Be brutally, cruelly honest. Always. (This one really isn’t sarcastic.)

Probably a good call…

#6. Always pay the internet bill.

#7. Sex after they’re done writing for the day will always be better than before they’ve started. (The exception: erotica writers. They need source material.)

#8. Flash drives. The perfect holiday/birthday gift.

#9. Writing time isn’t talking time, TV time, washing dishes time, or making any audible sound within fifty feet of your special writer…time. It’s best to go grocery shopping alone. Or even better, break up immediately.

#10. Ask at least once every single day how their latest ~~manifesto~~ project is going. Research similar artistic material beforehand to better offer constructive criticism. Get at least mildly drunk before each of these little talks. (Or…alternatively…see tip #1.)

…or books. Or blogging. Or…

#11. When they start the hated editing phase, remove all sources of alcohol from the area, including but not limited to: wine, beer, mini bottles of Fireball, big bottles of Fireball, Scotch, vodka, rum, mouthwash, isopropyl alcohol, Nyquil, and Dayquil. Write drunk. Edit sober-ish.

#12. If you see your special lil’ guy/girl haunting Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Pinterest, or Pornhub during ‘writing time,’ do not disturb them. This is called marketing and/or research. Riiiiiiight.

#13. In defiance of all the other tips, forcibly remove them from writing once in a while. (Preferably for naked showering.)

#14. Whenever you start to get lonely (and you will) remember that there will come a day when it all gets better, when finally their minds stop convulsing with ideas, when finally you can lie next to them and be at peace. Yes. That’s right. It won’t happen until they’re dead.

But so what?

Now go get some. Or not.

And while we’re talking about dating…

And…

The Truth about Introverts

By Amanda Makepeace life

Below is a blog post I wrote back in 2011 on a subject I am familiar with–the life of an introvert. Are you an introvert? What type? I’m a Social Introvert, meaning I need a lot of alone time, but I have no trouble interacting with groups of people. I thought my fellow introverts might find this enlightening!

****

Scrolling through my feed reader this morning I stumbled upon Theodora Goss’ post Introversion: Part 1; which is a response to Carl King’s post 10 Myths about Introverts. As an introvert, I thought I’d see how King’s response to these myths compares to my own experiences.

Myth #1 – Introverts don’t like to talk.
This is not true. Introverts just don’t talk unless they have something to say. They hate small talk. Get an introvert talking about something they are interested in, and they won’t shut up for days.

I can confirm King’s argument. No, I don’t talk a lot with just anyone. But if it happens to be a topic I’m passionate about I have been known to jump into a conversation whether I know people or not (this is how I met artist Charles Urbach and ended up in the Dragon Con Art Show last year). That said I’m always more comfortable with close friends and I can talk for hours and hours with them.

Myth #2 – Introverts are shy.
Shyness has nothing to do with being an Introvert. Introverts are not necessarily afraid of people. What they need is a reason to interact. They don’t interact for the sake of interacting. If you want to talk to an Introvert, just start talking. Don’t worry about being polite.

I use to be very shy as a child and young teen, but not so much anymore. Even so, as Myth 1 pointed out I’m not super chatty unless its warranted. I can definitely do without the pleasantries. If I’m in a group of people and not talking much, it’s because I don’t have anything to say, or I’m keeping my mouth shut for a good reason, or I’m more interested in observing everyone around me. Now you know.

Myth #3 – Introverts are rude.
Introverts often don’t see a reason for beating around the bush with social pleasantries. They want everyone to just be real and honest. Unfortunately, this is not acceptable in most settings, so Introverts can feel a lot of pressure to fit in, which they find exhausting.

I’ve never had any desire to fit in with the herd, but as a teenager I did feel extremely out-of-place, to point that I thought something was wrong with me. I learned later there was nothing wrong with me and since then I’ve been at one with my introverted self. I still have no desire to play the game, but I can pull it off in situations where its required.

Myth #4 – Introverts don’t like people.
On the contrary, Introverts intensely value the few friends they have. They can count their close friends on one hand. If you are lucky enough for an introvert to consider you a friend, you probably have a loyal ally for life. Once you have earned their respect as being a person of substance, you’re in.

I do value my very few close friends and I’ve always been the type to have just a small set of friends. Usually out of that small group I have someone who I am uber close with, someone that knows all my secrets, but I haven’t had a friend like that in years. Sounds kinda sad, doesn’t it? If I’m honest, I know it should seem sad, but I’m not really bothered by it.

Myth #5 – Introverts don’t like to go out in public.
Nonsense. Introverts just don’t like to go out in public FOR AS LONG. They also like to avoid the complications that are involved in public activities. They take in data and experiences very quickly, and as a result, don’t need to be there for long to “get it.” They’re ready to go home, recharge, and process it all. In fact, recharging is absolutely crucial for Introverts.

I wouldn’t be able to survive if I didn’t have my down time, a.k.a. recharging time. The rest is spot on too. I like to go out, but on my own terms. For example, you won’t find me at a sports event but you might catch me at a book store, coffee shop, museum, etc. I go to ginormous SFF Conventions, strange buildings to be trapped in a room with a zombie, dinners with friends, and I have fun but I do feel drained afterwards. That’s just how I am.

Myth #6 – Introverts always want to be alone.
Introverts are perfectly comfortable with their own thoughts. They think a lot. They daydream. They like to have problems to work on, puzzles to solve. But they can also get incredibly lonely if they don’t have anyone to share their discoveries with. They crave an authentic and sincere connection with ONE PERSON at a time.

True again. I am alone most of the time and I’m fine with that, in fact I’m content with that–most of the time. Whenever I start feeling antsy I know I need to meet up with a friend to talk for hours, catch a movie, etc. I have limits to how much time I can spend alone, just as I have limits to how much time I can spend with a group of people.

Myth #7 – Introverts are weird.
Introverts are often individualists. They don’t follow the crowd. They’d prefer to be valued for their novel ways of living. They think for themselves and because of that, they often challenge the norm. They don’t make most decisions based on what is popular or trendy.

To quote Eddie Vedder: “I change, by not changing at all.” I like what I like. Sometimes that may make me stylish other times not. I don’t give it a lot of thought. I’d rather be painting.

Myth #8 – Introverts are aloof nerds.
Introverts are people who primarily look inward, paying close attention to their thoughts and emotions. It’s not that they are incapable of paying attention to what is going on around them, it’s just that their inner world is much more stimulating and rewarding to them.

Yes and I also happen to be one of those people that will laugh out loud about something I’m thinking, whether I’m alone or not. I easily become lost in thought. Sometimes it happens when I’m in the middle of a movie or reading a book. I can sit for hours just staring at the fields and birds, imagining a dragon coming over the hill.

Myth #9 – Introverts don’t know how to relax and have fun.
Introverts typically relax at home or in nature, not in busy public places. Introverts are not thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies. If there is too much talking and noise going on, they shut down. Their brains are too sensitive to the neurotransmitter called Dopamine. Introverts and Extroverts have different dominant neuro-pathways. Just look it up.

True. But now you’re thinking, how does she handle Dragon Con? It’s a different type of crowd and I’m surrounded by people who love the same things I do. If you want to see me shut down, send me to a shopping mall for the entire day or a Walmart with those awful florescent lights–grocery stores for that matter too. I can handle those in small doses, not hours on end with loud people. Sometimes even an hour food shopping can put me in a foul mood.

Myth #10 – Introverts can fix themselves and become Extroverts.
A world without Introverts would be a world with few scientists, musicians, artists, poets, filmmakers, doctors, mathematicians, writers, and philosophers. That being said, there are still plenty of techniques an Extrovert can learn in order to interact with Introverts. (Yes, I reversed these two terms on purpose to show you how biased our society is.) Introverts cannot “fix themselves” and deserve respect for their natural temperament and contributions to the human race. In fact, one study (Silverman, 1986) showed that the percentage of Introverts increases with IQ.

Even if I could, would I want to “fix myself?” I don’t think there’s anything to fix. A world without Introverts…. No.

I’ve never sat down and talked about being an introvert with another introvert. I’d be curious to know how my responses compare. Any takers? Are you an introvert? What type?

The elegant art of cynicism

By J Edward Neill humor, life, writing

Sometimes when I walk outside on a sunny day, I feel the sunlight weaken.

When I show up at a party, the mood takes a southward dip.

And when I see a red door, I want to paint it black.

Do I exaggerate? If so, it’s only to make sure you get the point.

That there is beauty in hope, optimism, and faith, I do not doubt. The glory of a freely happy mind is something I enjoy vicariously through others. In their music. In their warmth. In their smiles. I witness cheerful people every day. Kids. Couples. Dogs. Friends. Old folks enjoying lemonade on the porch. It’s all peachy. It’s all grand.

But ultimately, these things are not for me.

I’m here today not to whine about being the world’s worst cynical bastard. But to explain how being this way can bring great contentment to one’s life. It’s true. I’m not joking. I’m completely serious.

Let’s begin with a simple chart:

Are you upper left? Sweet. Lower right? Let’s hang out…

I think the above pretty much sums up the difference between skeptics and cynics. Most people, depending on what day of the week it is, probably fall somewhere in the middle of the Hope/Doubt chart. Maybe they’re happy-ish one day, a little down the next, and just kind of existing the next. Feelings are fluid things for most people. They move as the mood wills. As for me, I’ve a confession. I’m about two inches to the right of ‘Cynic‘ and another two below ‘Doubt.’ Every day. Always.

And I’ve never been happier.

I suppose it’s true that when imagining a cynic’s state of mind, the terms unhappy, hopeless, or miserable come to mind. Cynicism is equated with negativity, depression, or a general disgust with life. “Gloom and doom,” they’ll say. “A real Debbie downer.” or “A fly in the ointment.” It’s cool. I get it. Being a cynical sonofabitch isn’t for everyone.

But in reality, there’s an elegant art to cynicism. A true freedom of spirit. An approach that can bring absolute peace to one’s mind.

Consider this:

A contented cynic can never know disappointment
Nor despair for all the world’s ills
Nor feel the pain of broken dreams
Nor suffer the frailty of emotion over the hard truth of reality
Nor endure a broken heart
Nor succumb to the horrors of hatred
Nor fall so low as to never rise again

A lot of you are thinking: “Yeah maybe, but cynics will miss all the good stuff, too.”

Not true. We just take it all with several grains of salt.

“But what about love?”

Piece of cake. We just don’t fall to pieces when it ends.

“Doesn’t being a cynic make people…I don’t know…kind of heartless?”

Nope. Just entirely in control of their feelings. And aware of the difference between hopes, dreams, and reality. Because, let’s face it, hopes are hollow without action. Dreams are stone dead without dedication. Doubt (even self-doubt) is healthy. And reality always wins. Always.

Love,

J Edward Neill (Cynical bastard)

For even darker thoughts, read this.

This too.

Merry Christmas!

By Amanda Makepeace art, life, sci-fi

All of us at Tessera wish you and your family a Merry Christmas!

How Undead are You?

By J Edward Neill humor, life

A Happy Quiz for Everyone…

How Undead are YOU!

To determine just exactly how foul, creeping, and unholy you are, answer the following questions and keep track of your score. A’s are worth 1 point, B’s worth 3 points, and C’s worth a rotten, festering 5 points. Check your undead-ness at the bottom of the quiz!

* * *

What part of every day appeals the most to you?

A. Dawn. You just love waking up to the sun beating down on the world, melting all the shadows away.

B. Evening. Perhaps you’re at home watching a movie, sipping wine, or barbequing up some delicious man-flesh. Either way, you’re content to watch the day die slowly.

C. Late, late, late at night. Everyone else is asleep. You’re awake at Waffle House, flirting with some wonderful creature…or maybe you’re out on the town, closing down establishments that never close.

Which movie is closest to your heart?

A. Pearl Harbor. Because watching Cate Beckinsale corrupt and ruin a perfectly good Josh Hartnett sounds like fun.

B. The Lost Boys. Bloodsucking, soul-gobbling vampires are awesome, but only if they’re cute and wear leather.

C. 28 Days Later. Death. Misery. The end of the world.

If you had to choose a song…?

A. Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off. Who needs country music when you can just market sexy, bouncy pop?

B. Anything by Creed. Seriously, if you pick this answer, stop taking this quiz and get help.

C. Slayer’s Seasons in the Abyss. Music for when the earth cracks open and everything dies.

When’s the last time you did anything meaningful outdoors? (Other than walk to and from your car)

A. Five minutes ago. Hell, you just did fifty pushups on the summit of Mount Doom.

B. Yesterday. You think you remember taking out the garbage. Or opening the door long enough to yell at the cat to come in.

C. More than two days ago. Sunshine hurts. I mean, oh gawd…you’ll burn away if you’re forced to put down the Xbox controller.

How often do you eat dinner at a restaurant? In the presence of the living? And no, Golden Corral and Waffle House do NOT count.

A. Two or more times every week. Because people-watching is just as fun as gorging on those orange biscuits Red Lobster makes.

B. Once per week. You’d go more often, but that’d require moving more.

C. Hardly ever. Pizza and a movie are way cooler.

How many times have you had sex this year? (With someone else)

A. One hundred or more times. Congratulations, you’re lying!

B. Between ten and ninety-nine times. Sorry, married dudes.

C. Zero to nine times. Because in order to have sex, you’d have to stop eating brains for at least three minutes.

Ever watched a movie at a movie theater alone?

A. No way. People who do that are either stalkers, serial killers, or both.

B. Considered it, but haven’t pulled the trigger. Because kids. Or spouses. Or friends. Or the latest collection of garbage Hollywood has heaped upon your world.

C. Yes. Because sometimes being awesome requires being awesome alone.

When confronted with hostility (in the form of frienemies, strangers, significant others, or Wal Mart employees) you…?

A. Take the high road. Your chin is held high, your ego intact, and your knuckles only slightly white.

B. Boil inside. But ultimately refrain from dismembering the hostile party…and all his/her friends.

C. Fists. And profanity. But if no violence, then at the very least you plot the annihilation of the offender’s entire bloodline.

How relentless are you?

A. Not very. You’re laid back. You brush failure off and move along to the next thing.

B. You’re a skeleton. If hacked into a hundred pieces, you slowly reassembly your parts and clickity-clack back to work.

C. You’re a vampire. Oceans of time can’t stop you. If told, ‘no‘ at every possible access point to your goal, you sit in a coffin outside and wait for everyone holding you back to die.

How intense are your dreams?

A. Moderate. You don’t dream much, and when you do it’s usually about falling, or sex, or money, or work. Or beer…

B. Creepy. You had night terrors once or twice. You swear you saw a ghost upon waking. You remember at least a handful of dreams that give you the chills.

C. Gravetastic. You dream and daydream terrible things. You’ve swam through rivers of blood, sat atop mountains of bones, fled from crimson-eyed spirits, and died thousands of times…only to rise again.

* * *

So about your score…

0-15 points – You’re safely mortal. Go back to your cubicle and keep a shotgun handy. Remember your cardio.

16-30 points – Your grandfather is probably a ghost. Your parents let you stay up to watch Evil Dead when you were five. But no…you’re still alive. Although graveyards are pretty cool. And your household pottery is haunted.

31-42 points – You’re clearly undead. Before going to work, you should probably make sure some of your skin isn’t falling off. Sleep isn’t sleep to you. It’s torpor, during which you regenerate your dark powers. How are you even able to read this, considering your eyeballs rotted out long ago?

43-50 points – In the caverns beneath your apartment, you collect skulls, mummies, and dolls that you’ve poked the eyes out of and sold to horror film directors. The sun hurts you…badly. Whenever you’re not alone, you’re spending time with others like you. And by others, I mean the team of thousand year-old ghouls you’ve assembled with the aim of global annihilation.

Look for more ridiculous quizzes in the future.

Author of this.

And this.

Ten Questions for Humanity

By J Edward Neill humor, life

Ten Questions for Humanity

Regarding Music Lyrics

Is there anything that hasn’t already been said? Any topic at all?

The Secrets of the Universe

If revealed to you, and if they challenged everything you thought you knew, could you discard all of your previous beliefs?

In the Struggle Between Happiness and Meaningfulness

Is it better to participate in the grand human social machine or seek contentment alone?

Immortality

If and when scientists perfect a method to extend life indefinitely, would you take the plunge?

In the Realm of Current Events

Beyond money, why do people choose to be Police Officers? Attorneys? Politicians?

That Thing Called Love

Purely bio-chemical? A genuine spiritual event? Or a survival mechanism to overcome the perils of being utterly alone?

All About That Bass

Do boys really want a little more booty to hold at night?

Where We’re Going, We Don’t Need Roads

If, long from now, the world is completely mechanized, thus eliminating the need for most people to work, what will we do with our lives?

Everyone Has One

Which one rules the roost: Opinions? Or facts?

Think Hard on This One

Does every single human life…have value?

***

Disclaimer 1: In observance of Tessera’s no politics, no religion policy, please eat salt after reading this

Disclaimer 2: I know the answers. I’m more interested in what you have to say

Like questions like these? Get deeper dilemmas here.

***

J Edward Neill

Author of the Tyrants of the Dead dark fantasy trilogy

Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful

By John McGuire life

This cold has got me discombobulated, scattered, wondering if I’m getting sick or just need more sleep (like a bear).

I’m not a fan of winter. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the actual time of year in and of itself. I like the holidays, having time off, spending some of it with family, and using it as a good time to simply recharge.

But the cold… ugh. I cannot stand the cold. And yet I know that some people love it so that they can drink their hot chocolate and snuggle in front of the fire. It allows them to wear jackets and scarves and layer up until they don’t even know what to do with themselves.

And I live in Atlanta, so it pretty much never gets as bad as those in the north have it (seriously, why do you do that to yourselves… move south). But even a little bit of it where we are touching freezing at night is more than enough for me.

However, thanks to a wonderful wife, I spent this last weekend in warmth. I was able to wear shorts in December. A cool breeze whistled past me and I didn’t run for shelter from it, but embraced it as an old friend.

The benefits of being in Miami, apparently.

On the list of items on my personal bucket list, if I actually took the time to write it out like Mr. Neill did a few weeks ago, would be to see a Miami Dolphins game in their home stadium. At 38 years old I finally got my chance to do just that.

I’ve been a Dolphins fan my entire life, yet it seems odd when people ask me if I am from Florida… as if I’d have to be from the place that the team resides to root for them. My old college roommate harassed me about that very thing many a weekend. Regardless, I always end up telling them the same thing. That when you live in south Georgia for much of your early life the one AFC team you get to see was the Dolphins. This was well before Jacksonville ever had a team, so week in and week out those were the games I got to see. Almost the same time I started watching the NFL, Dan Marino became the quarterback of the Dolphins which meant that most years they were in the playoffs – easy to root for. And the Atlanta Falcons were mostly awful during this time, so why bother with the team that was going to lose most of their games. I mean, today the NFL is the most popular it has ever been and much of that is due to the passing game – Marino was doing all of this 20 years ago.

But that wasn’t the only story.

You see, in a parallel world to this one there is a version of me typing up this exact same blog, but with one startling difference – that version of me is a (hated) NY Jets fan.

How do I know that is happening in this other world? Because the very first game that I ever remember watching took place on January 23, 1983 when the Miami Dolphins placed the New York Jets in the AFC Championship game. In my world, the Dolphins won the game 14-0 and became MY team. A silly decision made over the course of a few hours one afternoon when I was 1 week before turning 8.

So I know that in the parallel world the Jets ended up winning. And I have nothing but sympathy for that version of me, because the Jets are a train wreck and pretty much have been since that day. They’ve made a couple of runs here or there, but it always seems they quickly slide back to being awful. And while I was watching Marino break records, that version probably couldn’t have watched very many of the Jets games in the first place – needing to be content with the small blurbs in the local papers to figure out who was even on the team.

Another little thing, another weird decision by a younger me, that caused me to fly south for the winter, even if only for a weekend.

Sadly the game didn’t turn out the way I would have liked it (with a Dolphins’ win), but I sat there in the stadium among my fellow Dolphin fans, yelling and even singing a little of the Dolphins song (a terrible thing that once you have it in your head can never be extracted). So I thank my wife for the gift.

Even if it did add another item to the old list: to see them Win at home.

***

His second novel, Hollow Empire, is now complete. Each episode is only $0.99. But you can go ahead and purchase the full novel (all 6 episodes) right now for $4.99 with the above link!

He also has a short story in the recently released anthology Beyond the Gate, which is free on most platforms!

He can also be found at www.johnrmcguire.com.

What Dead Men do During the Holidays

By J Edward Neill humor, life

During Thanksgiving week, it used to be a tradition of mine to get my ass to Florida (St. Augustine, Clearwater, Naples…) and eat entire restaurants out of business. Those were my holiday-cations, and they were epic. I’d lay siege to huge buffets, soak up gallons of wine and cocktails, and float atop heated pools like a bloated corpse. I was an ICBM, and the beach was my target. Sometimes I even followed it up with a encore Christmas trip. Can you say…awesome?

Sadly, miserably…those days are done. Anymore, I’m a holiday zombie.

Holiday Zombie (Noun) – Any human, lacking purpose, who sits on the sidelines during the holidays and rots.

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So what do dead men do during the holidays?

1. Black Friday – We complain about it. Then camp out Thursday night to buy a video game we could’ve bought for $3 more on Amazon. I’m completely kidding. I’ve never braved Black Friday in my life. With my luck, I’d sleep right through the sales crush…or get arrested for disorderly conduct.

2. Laugh Inside – We feel ever so slightly left out due to lack of social interaction (guess who didn’t get invited to the ugly sweater party?) but secretly relish the fact that we have no real holiday responsibility. While the living are out buying SUV’s full of presents, enduring hours and hours of Jingle Bells, and road-raging, we zombies are grilling brains (or ribeye steaks) in our backyards. In the snow. While drinking heavily and vaping our favorite red runtz.

3. Gift Failing – For the one or two people we actually love enough to gift gifts to, we buy something sweet only to fail miserably with the wrapping paper. Afterward, we curse the people who are good at wrapping (we all know someone whose sole life-skill is wrapping gifts). And then, looking down upon our failure, we give up and buy a gift bag. Thank you, gift bag inventor. Without you, children worldwide would know my horror of wrapping paper.

What Santa looks like to the average three-year old. …and you wonder why they cry.

4. Damn Cards – We get plenty of holiday cards, but send none. Because, you know, we’re dead.

5. Well…maybe the Stove Top counts – We do things that have absolutely nothing to do with Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Years. Like watch metric tons of SEC football, eat meals of Stove Top stuffing and Little Caesar’s pizza, drink Texas margaritas instead of egg nog, and write dark fantasy novels. Just normal stuff, really.

6. No ties either. Or Starbucks gift cards – We quietly bemoan that no one buys us anything cool (or anything at all) for Christmas….and then realize we didn’t need anything anyway. We suffer five minutes of angst, but follow it up with, ‘Thank gawd Aunt Selma didn’t buy me more knee-high socks.”

7. Laugh Inside again – We get sucked into attending a holiday event or two. We dress up, wear too much perfume or cologne to mask the dead smell, and shamble out our doors. And then, while grandpa’s getting wasted, the kids are screaming, and your co-workers are banging in the guest bathroom, we’re both bored out of our minds and smugly satisfied. (That everyone else’s life is just a bit more messed up than our own.)

So here’s to you, fellow single guys, lonely co-workers, cat ladies, introverts, Wiccans, divorcees, and vegans. The holidays are brutal. But I’m right there with you. Hanging out on the fringe, making mean-spirited fun of everyone brave enough to enjoy themselves.

LUB,

J Edward Neill

Author of the Tyrants of the Dead dark fantasy trilogy

Author of The Sleepers and Old Man of Tessera

A Jumble of Bones

By J Edward Neill art, life, writing

Dear Santa,

I’ve been a lousy kid. I haven’t been particularly good this year. Or productive. Or nice. I’d apologize, but I wouldn’t really mean it.

Can I have a few presents anyway? Pretty please?

This week’s entry is a mixed bag (of bones.) I’m starting if off with my private Christmas list. Mind you, I’m not actually expecting Santa to bring me any of this stuff. But perhaps if I write it down, you’ll read it and commiserate that you’re probably not getting anything cool either:

My list:

XBox 360 Version of Dragon Age: Inquisition (Origins rocked. The first sequel sucked. I wouldn’t have time to play it anyway. But hell…)

Several free nights at the movies. So I can see Nightcrawler, Horrible Bosses 2, Gone Girl, St. Vincent, and yes…even Mockingjay.

A new pair of MMA gloves. Because my old pair is ruined…and even writers need to beat the bejeezus out of things now and then.

Moving right along…

I’ve decided to do a little experiment with one of my short stories. As of today, my popular short Old Man of Tessera goes up on Smashwords with a ‘pay whatever you like’ option. That means if you want to pay $0.00, you can pay $0.00, and I’m fine with it. If you feel like a few thousand words is worth $1.63, boom! you can pay exactly $1.63. It’s a neat-o option. Frankly I don’t care if I sell five hundred copies at $0.01. At this point, it’s all about getting my words in your face.

Click me. Buy me. $0.01 or $100,000.00…it’s your call.

Speaking of books…

In the last week, the cover art for Nether Kingdom – final book in the Tyrants of the Dead series – arrived on my doorstep. Graven out of the shadows by resident artist Amanda Makepeace, it’s the penultimate piece for the conclusion of my dark fantasy trilogy. I’ve showed fragments of it here and there already, and while I’m not yet prepared for the big reveal, I will offer a new glimpse today. That, and the promise of this cover being pretty much everything my dark little heart desires.

The Ur…clutching hearts and seizing dreams since humanity dared its first breath.

The Ur appear throughout the Tyrants’ series (as well as in numerous other creative iterations of mine.) In the upcoming Nether Kingdom, they’ll make a final move to rebuild their haunted civilization atop the ruin of mankind. Someday I’ll write a short explaining how I dreamed the Ur in the first place. In the meantime, I can hardly wait to finish NK and get it out for everyone to see. It’ll be at least five minutes of bliss before I sit right back down and begin working on their origin story – Darkness Between the Stars.

Thus, as hoped for, the Jumble of Bones comes to an end.

Catch you later,

J Edward Neill

Author of the Tyrants of the Dead dark fantasy trilogy

Why no one should ever become a writer

By J Edward Neill art, life, writing

Write well.

Write often.

But never write for more than a hobby.

It’s a saying I made up ages ago. And now I believe it more than ever. And yes, I know. It sounds hypocritical. I don’t apply the saying to myself. I’m just trying to help the rest of the world. As in you.

I remember the way life used to be. It was…oh…maybe fifteen years ago. I was a young buck, full of fire. My nights were free, my weekends wide-open, and my creativity shoved aside in favor of endless nights out on the town, countless hours of playing awesome video games, and *gasp* having actual friends I got to see more than twice per year. In retrospect, I was like a three-legged dog: clumsy, happy, and completely unaware of my missing limb. Those were probably the best years of my life. I say probably. I mean definitely.

And then one day I decided to write a book.

It was an innocent choice. At twenty-five years old, I never thought I’d finish one book, let alone twenty. I figured I’d try, fail, try again, and then wander away from it like I had so many other hobbies.

Wrong.

Speaking of hobbies, here’s a pile of hobbies you should consider rather than entertain even the vaguest notion of writing: playing guitar, painting, running, acting, watching tv, drawing, playing sports, cooking, baking, foodie-ing, collecting, gardening, eating, dating, breathing, jumping, fighting, counting toothpicks, rocket engineering, and running for president.

Today, one-hundred and fifty thousand years removed from my decision to write, I realize there’s no going back. Ever. Never. I hear about other folks’ hobby and career choices. “Engineer,” they tell me. “Teacher. Taxi Driver. Lobbyist. Mortician.” And I realize that for every hour of the night they spend fretting over their jobs/lives, writers spend quintuple. A steel worker hurts, a teacher grades homework after school, a grocer frets about bills, but me, I live and die a thousand times every night. My dark little hearts soars with one sentence scratched out, and crumbles to dust with the next. I dream a new story in the night, and realize the next morning I’ll never live nearly long enough to write it.

Mind you, I’m not complaining about my choices. I’m merely suggesting a different career path for you. And for the readers, perhaps giving a glimpse of my envy. You feel me, right?

That’s me standing atop a mountain of my own dead ideas.

When I wake at dawn of every day, my first thought is of writing.

When I sleep, I dream not of falling, fighting, or flying, but of tales beyond my ability to put into words.

When I go the park, I can’t just walk and be at peace. I see stories living in every tree, lurking behind every cloud, and wilting in every flower.

In a way, it’s a sort of madness. I could live for eons and never get it all out. I could fill every sheaf of paper in the world…and find it lacking.

The hardest part is the time invested. You’ll never get it back. Instead of existing in the living, breathing world (which is where you should be) writers are lost in the corridors of their minds. It’s fun to write a blog, cute to polish up a magazine article, and masterful to punch out a short story. But then the next idea comes…and the next…and the next. And before you know it, you’re lost in it. Your friends have forgotten you, your nights are lonely, and your significant other thinks you’re a ghost (because you are.) Domesticity and relationships don’t gel with writers’ self-haunting. Doubting the truth? Google the lives of some of the more famous novelists: Kurt Vonnegut, Ernest Hemingway, Charles Dickens, f’n Kurt Cobain.

See? Told you.

And the most f’d up part about it all? The catch-22? The double-reverse hypocrisy of the whole thing? …none of them would’ve ever had it another way.

And neither would I.

So I’m suggesting to you and any loved ones you know who are contemplating joining the club:

Think twice. You’ll thank me later.

If you’re curious, all my madness is stored right here.

Love,

Top Nine Most Inspiring Things Ever

By J Edward Neill life, writing

Top Nine List of Things That if They Don’t Inspire You, You’re Just an Awful Human Being 🙂

Disclaimer: It’s true, being a black-hearted SOB, I struggle to find inspiration. However, after I started digging deep, I realized that while inspirational posters make me ill, happy couples hurt my eyes, and cute puppies only make me think of Chinese food…somewhere deep inside I want to be inspired like the rest of humanity.

So here you go:

Chicago at night. (Or whatever huge city is closest to your heart.) I recently returned to my home city, and found it huger, bustlier, and more delicious than ever. I’m a wilderness lover, but there’s something about epic urban sprawl that makes me shiver in a good way.

I mean…holy shit.

Outer space. I recently watched Interstellar (in the aforementioned Chicago.) I won’t stuff a review down your sockets, but I will say that the thought of all those stars sprinkled into the void is quite possibly the most inspiring and terrifying thing ever. Just watch the tv series Cosmos and tell me it doesn’t make you feel small.

Clouds. As kids we saw faces in them. As adults, they change our moods based on their thickness, their movement, and their greyness. Clouds are the personality of the sky, and rain the Earth’s most raw emotion.

Music. I’m tempted to go on about how contemporary music will destroy the universe, but no…not today. I prefer massive guitar solos, bottomless soundtracks, and booming orchestras, but whatever works for you, works for me. Unless it’s Bieber. Or Miley. Or Toby Keith. But whatever else.

And yes, that’s the G Man. He’s shooting webs. In case you wondered.

Kids. All of ’em. I was reminded of how awesome kids are during this year’s Halloween. While we adults worry about how slutty or funny our costumes should be, kids roam the neighborhood free of concern, hunting for the next piece of candy. I just wanna be ten years old again, my pillowcase brimming with taffy, candied apples, and cash (yeah, they used to give out hard cash in my ‘hood.) Anyone else with me?

A good movie watched alone. I’m on a kick of going to the movies alone. And while it’s awesome to have a friend or date to watch a good flick with, it’s downright awesome to do it solo. For those who haven’t tried it, I heartily suggest you try. You don’t have to share your popcorn. You don’t have to field questions about the plot or whether the female lead is hotter than your date. Alone in the theater, you can just sit your ass down and melt into the story.

Big ass open fields. Or whatever landscape does it for you. I love the woods and the mountains, but there’s something about an open prairie or endless field that leaves me feeling utterly vulnerable to the sky. Vulnerability is good for the mind, especially for artists. Unless you let the world in, you’ll never put anything out.

The Moon. Not to be confused with outer space, the Moon is something special. It pulls at us figuratively and literally. It’s there during the day sometimes, but holds dominion over the night. Once I finally finish my not-so-super-secret project of disabling all the streetlamps in my neighborhood, I’ll be able to see the Moon all the better. Anyone got any industrial strength wire cutters?

Yes, it is what you think it is. And yes, it’s coming soon.

Finishing a plan long-laid. Ever built something that took days instead of hours? Ever invested years into a project? What’s it feel like when you’ve finished? Pretty…f’n…amazing, right? For the Tyrants of the Dead series, I wrote 1.1 million words and later pared it down to 700k. It’s taken me the better part of 12 years to complete. In a few months, the final book comes out. Satisfaction on a stick.

Until next time,

J Edward Neill

Author of the Tyrants of the Dead

Author of The Sleepers and Old Man of Tessera

It’s the Little Things

By Amanda Makepeace art, creativity, life

Life in the Makepeace clan is better than where it was a month ago, but not where I’d like it yet. This means I’m still following Hunter to the litter box room, just not quite as often, to ensure things are going smoothly (<- worse pun ever). It also means life is slowly returning to normal. Hunter has begun playing with Drusilla. He hasn’t felt like playing for over a month. Our frisky, lovable boy is making a comeback.

This is when reality taps me on the shoulder. It’s November. Two months have passed since Dragon Con. On the outside, I’m pushing forward, getting things done. On the inside, I’m slightly panicked and a little weary. What have been doing all this time besides caring for Hunter?

Working on a big commission (it’s in the final stages)
I put together a GoFundMe campaign to help with Hunter’s Vet bills.
I’ve been sketching pets as part of the GoFundMe campaign.
Helped my daughter put together a portfolio and helped her prepare for an interview for the Governor’s Honors Program.
I helped reseed our backyard and then managed the daily watering of baby grass.
I blogged for Tessera weekly.
I blogged twice weekly here.
I tried to blog weekly here.
I blogged monthly here.
Posting daily here.
I create the exhibit banners each month here.
Shipping orders from my Etsy shop.
Photographing my framed originals from Dragon Con.
Planning next year’s conventions. I’m going to be the Jordan Con Art Show!
Planning my next painting projects.
Revamping my website because it wouldn’t behave.
Catching up on every episode of One Fantastic Week.
I escaped from a room with a zombie. Seriously.

Should I go on? I could probably add more to this list… You get the idea. Some of these things are stress relievers and others are a bit draining. One turned out to be just what I needed. My creative friend Jane Gould was one of the generous contributors to my GoFundMe Campaign. Jane doesn’t have a pet, so she let me have free reign. However, she did plant a seed–dragon eye.

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Thanks for lifting my spirits, Jane! The little things are often the best remedy.

And a Child Shall Lead Them…

By John McGuire Horror, life

October is more than half over and yet I don’t feel like I’ve gotten much of my horror business done for the month. And I was doing so well a couple of weeks ago. I had watched a couple of movies with the horror bend to them, but since catching about 1/2 of the remake of The Hills Have Eyes, I’ve seen nothing that would disturb my soul. Nothing which would freeze the blood in my veins.

But a movie did come on the other day which set my mind spiraling back to a simpler time… to a time when I was much younger. The first time I remember being truly afraid.

The TV glowed from its perch atop my dresser. My room was wrapped in complete darkness other than that solitary light (and perhaps what little could trickle under the door from the hallway). At the elderly age of 10, Saturday night meant that my bedtime could be extended to at least midnight, and if I was careful about the volume, I could push it past if need be.

This night, though, was a little different. I had become fascinated with horror movies earlier in the year. Somehow, perhaps with the help of HBO streaming into our household, I’d managed to watch Nightmare on Elm Street. The sight of those knives on the end of Freddy’s fingers shook me up, in a way I had never understood before. I didn’t know that a movie could do such things.

It was a gift.

So now, there I was, alone in my room, preparing to watch another horror movie. Something called Children of the Corn. Whether it was the soundtrack of the movie, the basic premise of an entire town’s worth of adults missing – leaving only the kids in charge… a thought which certainly seemed interesting to this 10 year old.

Or it could have been that the villains turned out to be the kids. Whatever it was, I was entranced. Completely enthralled. I glanced at the clock, seeing that it was well past ten o’clock and the sounds from outside my room had died down at some point during my seclusion. That was ok by me. I loved the idea of being there and letting the fear wash over me.

Being only a one story house, my room sat facing the subdivision road which ran in front of our house.

Somehow, between the movie and the soundtrack and the sound of my own breathing, another sound filled my ears… from outside the house.

My heart slammed faster in my chest, but I did what every 10-year old would naturally do: I pulled the covers up to just below my eyes. That age old idea that the monsters in the dark can’t possibly get you if you are protected by an inch of comforter. I closed my eyes and blocked out everything else. Surely it was just something from the movie that I’d heard.

And then it came again.

There was no doubt in my mind that time. It had come from outside. I needed to figure out what it was. The idea of being afraid of something on a television screen suddenly became a distant memory. I slid from my place in the bed, slinking down to the floor beside it. Keeping low, I crept towards the window. Even while every synapsis in my brain fired to tell me to run out of the room, to go pound on my parent’s bedroom, and to let them deal with it… I continued until I was at the window. Slowly, I raised myself up, peering just over the window sill.

Outside he darkness chose not to reveal any potential secrets. Growing a little bolder, I managed to get my whole face up to be able to look.

And a light flashed directly in my eyes.

Somewhere I heard a scream, and my own fight or flight instincts kicked in. Had I been stronger, my door might have come off the hinges with the force I ran out of the room. Then I heard the scream again, only this time I understood that I was the one making the noise. Turning the corner, I found my mom in the living room and I proceeded to tell her everything I could through gasps and wheezing. I needed her to understand that there was something outside my window… that this wasn’t just the overactive imagination of a 10 year old who was watching scary movies.

I need not have worried. She hugged me, smiled, and said, “Your step-father is outside. He probably did it.”

The next sound I heard was one of laughter as my step-father rentered the house. His whole body shook as he relayed what he had seen. In light of this knowledge, I crept back to my bedroom, shut the door (but left a crack open), turned off the tv, and hid under the covers once more.

***

It’s that same fear that sometimes still gets me when it is very late and I am all alone in my house. A stray sound at 3 in the morning on a Friday night… I still find that I am comforted by ducking under the covers.

Perhaps there is some magic in that thought after all.

***

His second novel, Hollow Empire, is currently in week six of its 6-part release. Each episode is only $0.99. But you can go ahead and purchase the full novel (all 6 episodes) right now for $4.99 with the above link!

He can also be found at www.johnrmcguire.com.

The Ultimate Bucket List

By J Edward Neill hobbies, humor, life, writing

Yes. It’s on the list.

Yep. It’s true. We’re not getting any younger.

I know some might say bucket lists are cheesy, unrealistic, or just plain foolish.

Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve made one. Fact: I’ve posted an exact copy of it on my fridge. Also fact: I’ve only put things on the list that A: I haven’t already done, and B: I can’t just walk out my front door and do.

Because a real bucket list should be hard as hell to complete. Otherwise, why bother?

So here’s my list. Fifty items strong. Some of them are fun, others shallow, and still others straight from the heart. I’d love it if you’d post your top bucket items in the comments section. If nothing else, I can ~~steal~~ borrow your ideas.

50 Hard-as-Hell Bucket Stuffers

1. Go caving in Kentucky. As in way deep in the earth. As in if I get lost, the rest of the bucket list is screwed.

2. Write ~~a book~~ twenty books. Yes seriously.

3. Hold a four-minute plank. (Kinda stuck on two minutes right now)

4. Read the entire LOTR trilogy to my kid. As a bedtime story. Because bedtime stories should be epic.

5. Perform a meaningful charitable act. As in a weekend at a soup kitchen. Or ten weekends. Whichever.

6. Escape office life before it kills me. The dude from Office Space had it right. We weren’t meant to live like this.

7. Spend the night in a haunted house. Or a sanitarium. If only to know whether all the Ghost Hunter-type shows hold water.

8. Climb a mountain. A real mountain. Preferably something volcanic.

9. Be an extra in a movie. (Free food!)

10. Plant at least ten trees that will outlive me.

11. Make one of my books into a movie. Even if it’s a pitiful ten minute-long Youtube flick.

12. Wander the Scottish Highlands. Confound the locals with an over-the-top William Wallace accent.

13. Teach my grandkid(s) things to annoy their parents. (Need you on this one, G Man.)

14. Live long enough to see the Cubs play in (they don’t even have to win) the World Series.

15. Play lead guitar in a band. Even if for just one night.

16. Paint something stunning.

17. Eat Maine lobster. While in Maine. And on the same trip, eat Maryland crab. While in Maryland.

18. Try my hand as a quarterback coach. For kids.

19. Road trip through Sonoma, CA.

20. Be ripped when I’m 50. Wait. Forget 50. Be ripped when I’m 60.

21. Try every food I hated as a kid to see if I still hate them. (I will.)

22. Win a costume contest. While wearing something truly terrifying.

Bucket lists are hard.

23. Go to a Super Bowl (as long as the Packers aren’t in it.)

24. Buy a dinghy. Wake up at the ass-crack of dawn. Take my son fishing. Return home at dusk.

25. Live tech-free for 30 days straight. No cell phone. No laptop. No tablet. No TV. (This might be the hardest item on the list…)

26. If space travel to Mars is perfected, I’m there. I want to be the first person to write a book about the Red Planet while on the Red Planet. If space travel isn’t perfected, change this bucket item to: drink a Texas margarita while in Texas. Those are equal, right?

27. Drink a bottle of absinthe. With friends. In Europe. Preferably in Copenhagen.

28. Completely overhaul my wardrobe. Because if Joan Rivers were still alive, I’d be on her worst-dressed list. Seriously. I’m like a twelve year-old up in here.

29. Live in London. For a week. A month. However long it takes.

30. Tour every major pub in Dublin, Ireland. Alone. No friends for this trip.

31. While we’re on the subject of pubs, build a ‘pub room’ in my house. Neon signs, futbol banners, stools, pool table, low lights, cute bartender. The works.

32. Start an herb garden. No, not that kind of herb.

33. Grow a Mephistopheles beard. Pointy and black.

Thank goodness for skull buckets.

34. Learn how to make wine. (Gonna need something to drink after the Ebola-pocalypse.)

35. Learn to play the cello.

36. Help someone else fulfill their own bucket list.

37. Shave my cats to look like lions.

38. Spend an entire summer living on the beach.

39. Teach my kid to beat me at chess. Bow humbly when he does.

40. Rescue a turtle. (You know…the ones who try to cross the expressway.)

Seriously. There’s a huge market for these things.

41. Leaving this space blank _________________________ for someone else to suggest a bucket list item.

42. Find a clear night and a place from which I can see the Milky Way. Marvel hopelessly at the sky and wonder it’s all about.

43. Find the recipe for my dearly departed grandmother’s homemade stew. Cook it for a big group of friends and family.

44. Kiss a beautiful woman in Paris. Corny, I know. Don’t care.

45. Make myself useful. Save someone’s life.

46. Invent a new board game. Nothing complicated. Something like checkers or othello.

47. Remain apolitical. Even if I make it long enough to be a crotchety old wizard.

48. Start the tradition of giving gifts on my birthday.

49. Try sushi.

50. Pay for all this stuff with a thriving writing career.

***

That’s it. I’m tired. I’ll start making this stuff happen tomorrow.

J Edward Neill

Author of the Tyrants of the Dead dark fantasy trilogy

Author of The Sleepers and Old Man of Tessera

http://amandamakepeace.com

J Sporting News

By J Edward Neill humor, life, news, sports, Uncategorized

What does this image have to do with the post? Absolutely nothing.

It’s hard being a sports fan. Damn hard.

Sometimes I wish I could stop, turn off the TV, take a long walk, and ignore the plights of all my favorite teams.

No. That’s not even a little bit true. I never wish that.

I’m a diehard Chicago fan (except for the Sox…hate those guys.) I bleed Cubbie Blue, live and die by the health of Derrick Rose’s knee, love and hate Jay Cutler, and boil with pride for the Blackhawks. But whatever team you like, whatever city you’re from, odds are you know how hard it is. To watch someone else’s team carve deep into the postseason, to endure your hated rivals hoisting a trophy, to be excited at kickoff…and completely gutted by the middle of the third quarter. It sucks something awful. We’ve all been there.

Such is a sports fan’s life.

So let’s start by talking about football. My personal favorite, the NFL. Violent. Barbaric. Crueler on its players than any other game. Gloriously inglorious. Perfect and imperfect.

I love it.

Over the last few years, I’ve heard, read, and endured hundreds of reports and sound bites regarding the health of the NFL’s players. About concussions, CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy,) ragged knees, spinal injuries, and retirements ruined by pain. About how someday it’ll all come crashing down. I’ve followed Peter King’s columns, SI.com, and the metric ton of non-news news ESPN heaps upon us every day.

‘Wear better helmets,’ some cry out.

‘Too violent!‘ claim others.

‘They knew what they were getting into! Look at how much money they get paid!‘ many fans will declare.

Ultimately, who really cares? Not me. And statistically speaking, not you either. NFL ratings are higher than ever in the history of the game. If any of us are really all that bothered by a game played by wife-beaters, drunk-drivers, and future invalids, it really doesn’t show up on Sunday (Or Saturday, Monday, and Thursday.) This being the case, we should all stand up and ask sports reporters around the USA to let it go. Let’s talk about the game and only the game. Let’s let the drama die. Scrutinize any cross-section of Americans and you’ll find out all sorts of awful details you didn’t want to know. The NFL is no different. If it dies one day due to its violent legacy, so be it. But until then, most of us have proven we still love it when someone gets de-cleated on the gridiron. Especially if it’s Aaron Rodgers…

“This game is hard. Especially when you turn the ball over four times in two quarters.”

Ok baseball, you’re up next. I’m here to say that I love you. Your purity, your pace, your elegance.

But you’re really getting on my nerves.

I want to talk about a number. The number is 162. The amount of games each team plays (not including Grapefruit/Cactus League games.) Used to be I loved that on any given day from April-September I could turn on the boob-tube and watch the Cubs get crushed. Used to be I craved the feeling that the season would never end.

Not any more. 162 is just too many damn games. By a long shot.

Would it be blasphemy to say that the average MLB game doesn’t mean a f’n thing? Is it weird that even the most spectacular win or heartbreaking loss only amounts to 0.61% of each season? What if I told you that if each team played two three-game home-and-away series’ with every other team in their half of the league, the season could be a brisk, snappy 84 games long? Does it really take 162 to decide which teams aren’t even the best, but simply worthy of entering a three-round tournament that could take up to 19 more games to find a winner? No. It doesn’t.

Why are NFL and College Football games so damn thrilling? Because each one can make or break a season. Lose one NFL game and that’s 6.25% of your season. Lose a college football game and that’s 8%. Gone. Done. Untouchable. My plea to the MLB is to chop the season in half. Please. Run two 82-game seasons every year if you have to. Have a World Series in July and another in October. But for the love of god, don’t make me watch Cubs baseball (games 108-162) in August and September. We’re already 17 games out. What’s the fucking point?

End baseball rant. Truth is; I’m really enjoying the postseason. The one-game Wild Card playoffs are kinda sorta what inspired my shorter season hopes. And how about that Royals v A’s game?? Needed new underwear after that one.

Ok. So lets talk about the upcoming NBA season. Anyone? Ugh. Never mind.

What about hockey? Are Patrick Kane and the boys gonna dig deep and make another Cup run? Or will it be the Kings? The Bruins? Hello? Anyone listening? Oh, that’s right. I live in Georgia, home of exactly seventeen NHL hockey fans.

Good sports things going on right now:
Peyton Manning, Tom Brady, Alex Smith, Steve Smith Sr., Alshon Jeffrey, Antone Smith, Eric Hosmer, The f’n Orioles, Derrick Rose’s knee (for now,) the Yellow Jackets, Notre Dame, the Gators sucking, Jeter’s final at bat.

Bad sports things going on right now:

Wife/GF beaters (don’t even deserve mentions,) UGA Football, Oregon Football, everything happening in Jacksonville, FL, the Texas Rangers, the Chicago Bears defense, almost every NFL team’s defense, Geno Smith, sideline reporting, NFL halftime shows, beer commercials, car commercials, mutha f’n GEICO commercials, the Cardinals being in the NLCS, the Packers being in first place, and Lebron getting traded to another team in the same goddamn division as the Bulls.

That’s it for now. Go buy this and this.

Love,

J Edward Neill

Whatnot and more Whatnot

By Amanda Makepeace art, life, news

The last week and a half has been exhausting. I feel like I’ve traveled through the Hell Mouth and back. After four days of trying to avoid a serious situation, things were pushed to the brink. I rushed my cat Hunter to the Vet at 11 p.m last Thursday night. I have the best Vet in world, one of those exceptionally caring individuals. He gave me is cell phone number and said call at any hour. When I called he was in bed, but got up, dressed and met us at his practice. Hunter came home on Monday night and he’s doing better, not 100% but getting there. I’m nowhere near 100% but I keep pushing ahead nonetheless, except when it came to this blog post. I had planned to put together a post on books with monsters, something fun for October, but I just stared at the screen. Not this week. Maybe next week, or the week after, but I can’t do it now. Instead, you get this random post about whatnot.

whatnot

used to not give the names of everything

Put your pot, the corpse and whatnot in the back of the car.

by eugenie March 01, 2004

*******

The example! I won’t be sharing anything about corpses in my whatnot post. The best I can do is share this photo I took of the cemetery in my front yard. 😀

What else? I’m reading a digital ARC of a new (new to the US) book by Sergei Lukyanenko (author of the Night Watch series), originally titled Геном. His characters are always wonderfully complicated on the outside, but down-to-earth on the inside. I’m over 50% of the way through the book but I’ve been too tired to read the last two nights. 🙁

Cats make superb pirates. All Hunter needs is a pirate hat and a hook.

I have two Etsy coupon codes running till November 1st. Trick or Treat, you choose.

Oh, and I did this… You can too. Just click on the link in the lower right of the image.

http://makepeacestudios.etsy.com

The best things about autumn

By J Edward Neill life, writing

The way the trees looks like this. Fiery leaves scattered across every surface imaginable.

The long days and nights of nothing but rain. Cold, cold rain. No other rhythm like it in the world.

The way burning leaves smell. Huge piles of ’em. All the smoking, grey clouds they emit. The way you can smell it from miles away.

Twilights like this. The barren branches sleeping beneath the burning skies. The last birds escaping.

Pumpkins still glowing long after the night has settled. Nothing eerier yet strangely as comforting than a craggy-toothed punkin’ smiling as you enjoy an evening walk.

The way the insects sound. It’s different than in spring (fresh and waking) or in summer (cicadas always whirring). In autumn, crickets own the night.

The wind blowing through the dry, dead grass. In some places, it’s ceaseless. In others, meandering.

The way the sky looks like this most of the time. Leastways where I come from…

Listening to music like this. Especially at night. Bonus points if you can name this particular album.

Watching movies like this. Curled up on the couch alone or with a friend. There’s no better season for horror than autumn.

Dreaming of being the most terrifying kid in the neighborhood on All Hallows. And maybe just pulling it off. We’ve got nothing on the way our great grandfathers used to do it.

Nothing beats autumn. It’s the best season for writing, the best season for existing. Summer is great for sports, spring for de-hibernating, and winter for all things indoors, but autumn……sips of Scotch on the back patio, bbq’s, meaningful football, All Hallows, walking in the drizzle, sleeping with your windows open, listening to the wind, black cats, fallow fields, cawing crows, spooky twilights, grey dawns, crimson leaves, crackling fireplaces, roasted marshmallows, camping, creeping, raking, burning, and watching the world get ready to sleep.

I’m glad you’re here, autumn. Let’s do this.

J Edward Neill

Life, Art and One Lucky Winner

By Amanda Makepeace art, life

This morning, before the sun touched the horizon, I was outside looking up at the stars. I’d forgotten how impressive the sky is when you get away from the city and Metro Atlanta. While I admired the beauty before me, a shooting star zipped across my line of sight and I felt like I was 10 years old again. I smiled up at the stars and made a wish. I needed that magic moment. It’s been one of those weeks. If I’m honest, September was one of those months.

I worked very hard all summer preparing for Dragon Con and my hard work paid off. I sold two paintings in my Gallery and more than half of my prints in the Print Shop. I hope I haven’t jinxed myself for next year! Once Dragon Con was over and I could stop pushing myself so hard the true weight of my exhaustion bore into my psyche. Then it was one thing after another. That’s life. Drusilla needed to be spayed. We had a birthday party for my mother, and then in the last days of September, Hunter became ill. He’s on the mend now, I think we are moving in the right direction, but after losing Shadow last year I was overwhelmed. So, it’s not been the best of weeks. You can always tell when I get overwhelmed by my level of social media activity–I begin to drop off the radar.

I’ve been working on a commission, but it’s difficult paint/create anything when I’m emotionally compromised. Some people can work through those times–not me. I think my muse goes into hiding. When that happens I have to coax her back out. One way of doing that is to turn my focus away from the project at hand and paint something else–something small, quick, and spontaneous.

Make a Wish by Amanda Makepeace

Make a Wish, painted this morning in Photoshop, inspired by my shooting star, has done the trick. I’m feeling lighter and ready to move forward again.

I suppose I should share the winner of my art print giveaway, right?

Congratulations, Melinda Dalke!! I will be in touch this morning. Melinda is a fellow artist at EBSQ. Check out her Facebook Page: Laughing Paws Art Studio.

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad

By John McGuire life

I touched on one thing a few of weeks ago that I wanted to explore a little bit. Basically the idea that out of bad things we should make the best of them.

When life gives you lemons, make lots of lemonade.

Every dark cloud has a silver lining.

I wonder if it isn’t just crap we tell each other to ensure that we get out of bed in the morning.

4 years ago I got laid off from my day job as an engineer. For those of you who have never had the opportunity to take an unplanned vacation where you are stressed a whole lot of the time… let me tell you, it is not worth it. Basically you have this time where normally it would be great. Catch up on sleep, read a book, watch tv, and just veg out. I mean, you’ve been at it for how long now, you might deserve some free time again. But the underlying stress is awful. And at some point there are only so many hours in a day you can look for jobs.

But I digress. Out of that time I ended up writing the first draft of the book that would become The Dark That Follows. I had never written anything that long before. Prior to those moments the longest thing I had ever written was a movie script that was about 100 pages and around 48 pages of a comic mini series. Let me say that writing 200+ pages of a novel is an entirely different beast.

I definitely made some lemonade.

Here’s the question though… why? Why did I need that bad thing to happen before I made an opportunity out of it? Couldn’t I have done the same thing while I was employed (sure I could and have been ever since that point). Still that was the thing that gave me a kick in the pants I surely needed.

So why do we wait for these moments? Why should it take sometime bad to happen for us to reevaluate how our lives are progressing?

My favorites are the blessing in disguise. I’m more referring to the phrase itself, somewhat of a cliche nowadays, rather than the possible religious implications behind it. It might as well be a case where all we are doing is just trying to reassure someone that good times are coming. There is a commercial on tv in Georgia (perhaps other states who have the lottery are running something similar). The conceit of the game is that you win if you match all the numbers (like a normal lottery) OR if you match none of the numbers (so now they have us hoping for a negative return… just weird). And while I am amused at the commercials, it is such an alien thing to hope to not win… but not just don’t win, you need to LOSE completely.

I mean, what in the world are you supposed to be cheering for then? That’s like rooting for your team to tie or something. And while there are spots where that might be a good thing. It is completely alien to my own brain patterns. I (people) are programmed to Win.

So why is it that we must decide to find the silver lining only in the bad things? Can’t they just be bad things and then we move along? Do we need to find lessons in these moments of terrible? Would it be the worst thing in the world to just brush ourselves off and stop obsessing over whatever the bad thing was?

Just once I’d like to learn my lesson from something really good happening!

Of course, that is easier said than done. I think that it might be (must be?) that we all get caught up in our lives. Going to work, hanging out with friends, dealing with family… you know, Life stuff. But that becomes a daily thing. And then it becomes a weekly thing. And then summer is over and Christmas is here and we all stand around thinking “Wow, that year sure went by fast.”

The bad might just be a shock to the system that breaks us of that routine. Maybe we’ve drifted a bit from whatever path we’re supposed to be on and that’s the moment we can really do a bit of self-correcting?

Of course, unlike those people in the Lottery commercial, I’m not looking to have the bad thing happen. And I wish I could steel myself against it, but that never works. So all I can do is just take that extra moment when it happens and use it to the best of my ability. Not the best answer, but the only one I have.

Mostly I’m reminded of why there has to be bad things by two of the greatest philosophers of our time.

Beavis: Hey Butthead, how come some stuff sucks, and some stuff is pretty cool?

Butthead: Because Beavis… if everything was cool… how would you know what sucked?

Exactly.

***

His second novel, Hollow Empire, is currently in week three of its 6-part release. Each episode is only $0.99.

He can also be found at www.johnrmcguire.com.

A Day in the Life (GIF Edition)

By Amanda Makepeace art, creativity, life

My fellow guild mates thought a look into my typical day would make for an interesting blog post. Maybe. I wasn’t convinced. What if I put you all to sleep with my boring life? So I decided to spice things up, just a bit.

06:00 – I’m not a morning person. My alarm clock, a.k.a. my iPhone, sounds like an alarm you might hear if a nuclear reactor was in danger of meltdown. It’s the only digital alarm capable of wrenching me out of my slumber into the land of the living, but even then I’m not a happy camper.

By this time cats are already at the door in danger of becoming feral if I don’t heed their need for sustenance. Since adopting Drusilla I’ve had to shut my door at night if I want sleep. If I leave it open she pesters me almost nonstop. Her favorite ways to pester include, pawing my face, biting my nose, biting my toes, and burrowing under the blankets to attack my legs. Since she and Hunter have become best friends I don’t feel bad shutting her out and she doesn’t seem to hold it against me (she follows me everywhere).

06:10 – Coffee is the only thing on my mind. The cats have been fed. The dog has been fed and put outside. Now is Coffee Time – Phase 1. I love coffee and I drink a ton of it, but I wouldn’t say I’m addicted. My coffee intake during Dragon Con was almost nonexistent and I functioned just as as well. On a typical day I drink my coffee out of a large travel mug and I drink 2-4 of those. I like to leisurely drink it throughout the morning, oftentimes when I’m painting or writing blog posts. During Phase 1 I usually check my emails and read the news headlines.

06:53 – Coffee Time Phase 1 ends. I go downstairs at this point to make lunch for both my daughter and my mother. Yes. I make my mother’s lunch. I’m a good daughter. But I’ll be honest, it’s not my favorite task of the day especially before I’ve had my full caffeine intake.

07:45 By now my daughter is on her way to school and my mother has left for her job. I’m still in my pajamas, drinking coffee (Coffee Time Phase 2), and updating various social media sites. It’s a necessary evil but nonetheless draining.

08:30 – 15:00 My creative time is a mixed bag of nuts. Every day is an adventure.

I can paint anything.

This isn’t turning out how I imagined it in my head…

Everything I paint is crap!

I don’t let this stop me. Paint, paint, paint!

My masterpiece. Muahaha!

An hour later…

15:00 I try to switch gears around this time. I have an hour before my daughter arrives home, so I do some typical domestic chores.

18:00 – Before I know it, it’s time for dinner.

20:00 My evenings are spent watching a couple television shows we’ve DVR’d and then I head to bed to read, usually for far too long.

If you’ve made it this far I salute you!

amandamakepeace.com

Split Bill (My mental vacation)

By J Edward Neill art, life, writing

Hey. How are you? This’ll be a rare rambling post from me. Apologies in advance.

So. What’s up in the world? Anything interesting going on? Yeah, I know: ISIS, Ukraine, Ebola, Ray Rice, Jack the Ripper. But let’s get to what’s really important: Hollow Empire – Season 1 – Night of Knives. It’s finished. It’s out. In total, it’ll be six episodes (six chapters each) for $0.99 a pop. There’ll also be a complete e-version and a paperback edition. I co-authored it with this guy here. If you like post-apocalypic medieval fantasy westerns, you’ll like it. If you like deep characters wading through deeper shit, you’ll love it. This lady here did the art. And that’s all I’ll say about it for now.

What I’m doing most days. On a side note: ever notice how ripped the Thinking Man is?

Aside from Hollow Empire, I’m struggling a bit.

I’ve stopped dreaming at night, and it’s a problem.

I don’t have writer’s block. Not exactly. What I’ve got is a wandering muse. As in wandering off. I usually pull all of my deliciously dark ideas from the corridors of sleep, but now that my dreams have stopped…well…you see? Thing is; I used to dream all night, every night. Epic space operas, terrifying horror stories, tragic romances, end-of-everything dark fantasies…I had it all bouncing in my head after the lights went out.

But now, there’s nothing. I sleep a solid six every eve, yet my head-movies are gone. The world hasn’t ended just yet; I’m still chin-deep in editing a massive novel, which means I don’t need too much muse for the moment. But it’s fair to say I’m concerned. Worried. Troubled…

See that big dark spot on the moon. Yeah, that one. That’s where my mind needs to be at night.

And that’s why, after Hollow Empire and Nether Kingdom hit the market, I’ll take a little vacation. Not a real vacation on the beach, of course. That’s too much to hope for. I mean a mental vacation. Maybe I’ll play some Halo and some Dragon Age. Maybe I’ll double down on my chin-ups. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll even pick up my ancient Dungeons & Dragons books and stage a few goblin slaughters with some friends. That’s AD&D First Edition, bitches. We keep it old school ’round these parts.

But seriously, I need to start dreaming again, and soon. I have the ideas, but all the flavor and darkness come out at night…while I’m asleep.

Next up, a trio of lists. Read and enjoy:

The Top 4 upcoming video games I’d play if I didn’t have a three-year old

1. Dragon Age: Inquisition (Because it has to be better than the second installment)

2. Destiny

3. Halo 5: Guardians (Because, you know, I still haven’t beaten Halo 4)

4. Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor

My Top 5 fantasy movies of all time
1. Fellowship of the Ring (Sorry, Academy. The first film blew Return of the King out of the water)

2. Willow

3. Legend (Despite Tom Cruise)

4. Animated version of Sleeping Beauty

5. Dragonslayer (The original. Best. Dragon. Ever.)

My Top 3 favorite book covers ever

This week was a jumble of bones. Skulls and ribs and tibias all mixed up. Next week will be more focused…maybe.
Until then,

J Edward Neill

Author of the Tyrants of the Dead dark fantasy trilogy

Author of The Sleepers and Old Man of Tessera