All posts by Aaron Rosenberg

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What I’m Working on: Aaron Rosenberg

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JLS_2629I’m currently writing an Ogmios novel with Steve Saville—it’s titled Lost Cause and follows both the first Ogmios novel Silver (which came out a year or two ago) and the sequel Gold, which is out this fall. In Lost Cause, the Ogmios team goes to Japan, initially to help a friend with a kidnapping, but it rapidly turns into a much larger issue involving national treasures, the Yakuza, and a treasure hunt several centuries in the making.

Steve and I are also returning to our Phoenix story, which started with For This Is Hell and will continue this Halloween with Haunted Summer. The Phoenix, who was previously known as Christopher Marlowe, is back, this time in a new guise. And with several friends he is enjoying a lazy summer of stories, wine, and laughter. Until events force the stories to take a darker turn, becoming tales of horror that reflect the danger they now face. FTIH3

Bob, Paul, and I are getting the last few details nailed down so we can return to the world of ReDeus, this time with full-length novels, and of course I’m writing a story for Pangaea. After that I’m doing an urban fantasy novel with Silence in the Library, tentatively titled Oversight. I’m also doing a middle-grade book and a YA novel but I can’t talk about either of those, and I’m doing some work for a videogame company as well. And there will be one final DuckBob novel, Not for Small Minds, which is planned for the end of the year. This time the focus is on DuckBob’s lady love, Mary, who is brilliant as she is beautiful—and often has trouble getting people to see past the latter to the former. Native Lands front cover

I’m probably forgetting a few smaller projects, but that’s the bulk of it. 2015 is looking to be a busy year for me, which is good. I get up to too much trouble when I’m allowed to sit idle. :)

DuckBob

NaNoWriMo Success Stories, or how DuckBob was born

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“Write something different.”

That’s what my friend said to me. It was a challenge, really. We’d been talking about writing, and I’d mentioned that, for once, I might actually be able to do NaNoWriMo properly. I’d “sort of” done it once or twice before, by writing novels while it was going on, but I’d already been working on those when November had rolled around and so technically they didn’t qualify. But this time I had a gap in my writing schedule at just the right moment, and I thought “this time, I’m going to do it for real.”

The only question was, what to write? Which is where my friend’s challenge came in.

I decided to rise to the occasion. I’d written mostly genre action-adventure to this point, for properties like Star Trek and WarCraft and Eureka—lots of fun, lots of action, the occasional bit of humor but mostly serious, in the way that big-budget cinematic action is serious. Which is why I decided to do something actually full-on funny for a change.

I had this idea that had been kicking around in my files for a few years. It had started as a joke with a friend, just one of those random weird lines you throw out in conversation. But it had stuck, and I’d thought even then “this could be the basis for a really fun novel, in the same vein as Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” It was about a duckheaded man surfing the ion wave.

I sat down to write that book with very little plan beyond the initial image and the fact that I wanted to just kick back and have fun and be silly. I wrote somewhere around 60k that November, officially “completing” or “winning” NaNoWriMo. The following month I finished the book for real. It became No Small Bills, the first of the Adventures of DuckBob Spinowitz, which is now three books and counting.

NSB RVSD front cover

And I don’t know if I would have actually managed to write that book at all if not for my friend’s push, and NaNoWriMo’s structure and built-in pressure-cooker deadline. So thank you, NaNoWriMo! And for all of you participating in it this year, good luck! You can do it!

Author's Spotlight, DuckBob, New Releases, News

Take three DuckBobs and call me in the morning!

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No, that wasn’t it. Hang on . . . DuckBob takes three in the morning and never calls!

Still not right.

Oh, wait, I remember now—it’s DuckBob, Take Three!

That’s right, if you loved No Small Bills and Too Small for Tall, and have been tearing out your hair in despair because there weren’t any more stories about everyone’s favorite alien-altered, duckheaded bloke, your prayers have been answered! Because the third DuckBob novel is now here! DuckBob is back, along with Tall, Ned, Mary, and a whole host of other wacky characters. See what happens to DuckBob’s job! Learn why Ned sounds like he’s from Brooklyn! Meet DuckBob’s family! And more!

Want more info? Check out the back cover copy:

Bob Spinowitz was an Coinkydinks coverCaverage guy—until aliens abducted him and gave him the head of a duck. Then they asked “DuckBob” to save the universe, since their modifications meant he could. Talk about a backhanded compliment!

Amazingly, though, DuckBob did it. And thus became Guardian of the Matrix, which protects the cosmos from further invasion—as long as he’s plugged in. Literally.

But alien techie pal Ned just made the Matrix User Interface wireless. Suddenly, DuckBob is free again—the whole universe is at his alien-altered, webbed feet! Only problem is, could being unplugged mean he’s out of a job?

As a pick-me-up, Ned takes DuckBob to his homeworld—which looks just like Brooklyn. Odd changes are afoot there, however—ones with potentially cosmic repercussions. Soon DuckBob finds himself struggling to stay alive. And to find lunch, which is equally important.

Can DuckBob conquer his doubt, rein in his freedom, and help save Ned’s world? Or will our avian-esque hero’s first unrestricted flight be the last—not just for him but for us all?

Three Small Coinkydinks (330 pages, $4.99 epub/$14.99 trade paperback) is now available in print and epub formats. Get your copy today and start laughing all over again!

 

DuckBob, New Releases, News

Funny books? We got you covered!

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Almost three years ago, as Crazy 8’s second (one could even say “sophomoric”) release, we put out a zany little book about a duck-headed man and his bizarre, disjointed, hilarious quest to save the universe. That book, of course, was No Small Bills, which became a NOOK bestseller right out of the gate. Apparently people like to read funny stuff–who knew?

A year later, our avian-altered friend was back for more wacky hijinks in a second novel, Too Small for Tall.

Now, two years later, it’s time to saddle up and ride out yet again, because DuckBob Spinowitz is coming back! The third DuckBob novel, Three Small Coinkydinks, will be out later this month—but you can ooh and aah over the cover starting now!

Coinkydinks coverC

There, isn’t it pretty?

Not enough for you? How about a small sample to whet your appetite? Read, enjoy, gaze longingly at the cover some more, and watch for the book’s debut coming soon!

*   *   *

Meanwhile, I’m outside my old office. Should I go in? Should I tell my old boss, Phil, that I want my old job back? Should I grovel? Should I just stroll in like I own the place, say, “Yo, Phil, how’s it hanging? I was busy saving the universe and all but that gig got old so I figured I’d swing on back, you don’t mind, do you? And hey, can you grab me an espresso? I’ll be at my desk,” and see how long it takes anyone to wonder what I’m doing back or to point out that I may not actually work there again? I’m pretty sure I saw this movie years ago and it worked pretty well, especially for Teen Wolf and Supergirl.

Thing is—thing is, now that I stop and think about it, I hated my old job. Really hated it. All I did all day was scroll through screens on my computer, click a bunch of boxes on and other ones off, submit the form, and then repeat the process. It really didn’t seem to make much difference which boxes I checked, either. I know because I got bored after a while and started doing patterns, just like I used to do on the old standardized tests back in school. Which might explain why I almost got held back a grade twice but the NSA wanted to recruit me right out of middle school. So I used to check boxes in squares and rectangles, triangles and rhombuses, fleur-de-lis and stars, spirals and ankhs and infinities and subway maps. Nobody ever complained, at least to me, but I’m pretty sure we destabilized a small third-world company and brought a busload of tourist gamblers back to life. That’s bound to balance out whatever else happened, right?

Even if it does, though, can I really stand to go back to that? I mean, I saved the universe, man! I fought off an alien invasion! I stopped a galactic menace with nothing but taffeta and taffy! I fried a killer shrimp! After all that, how’m I gonna be able to survive working in that tiny little cube again, hunched over that tiny little screen, clicking buttons?

Wow, I had no idea just how much my old life sucked. Good thing I haven’t bumped into anybody I know yet—that’s the thing about being this distinctive, it’s not like my old friends and former co-workers could walk past and think, “Huh, weird, another guy who was modified by aliens and given the head of a duck just like DuckBob, what’re the odds?”

Which is, of course, right when a hand lands on my shoulder. A big, meaty hand, caught up in the cuff of a dark suit. And there’s the rest of the suit behind it, along with a white shirt, a dark tie, a dark hat—

—and a pair of dark sunglasses.

“Mr. Spinowitz?” It’s a surprisingly high voice for such a big guy, and it quavers a bit at the end. “I need you to come with me.”

Conventions, New Releases, News

Tales of the Crimson Keep—Revealed!

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At long last, the moment you’ve all been waiting for—the first glimpse of the cover to the all-new Crazy 8 Press anthology Tales of the Crimson Keep!

In a way, this book has been three years in the making—at least, the first story involving the Crimson Keep, “Demon Circle,” was created three years ago. Right around the same time that Crazy 8 Press itself officially began. Now here we are, three years later, with over a dozen books to our collective name, yet this is the first time every member of the team has contributed to the same project. And we’re debuting it at Shore Leave (Hunt Valley Inn, Hunt Valley, MD, August 1-3), the fan-run SF convention where Crazy 8 started and where, three years ago, we wrote “Demon Circle” as a round-robin story out in the exhibit hall.

If you’re at the show, come by and see us, pick up a copy, and get all of us (sans Paul, who will be there in spirit and possibly in effigy) to sign it. And if you can’t make it don’t worry, you’ll still be able to buy the book online or from us at any of our other con appearances. It will be available in ebook formats soon after the convention as well.

In the meantime, enjoy the cover!

CrimsonKeep front cover

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An Asimovian Surprise

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PebblecoverOkay, time to set the Wayback Machine. The year is 1984. I’m fourteen. My parents, my older sister, my two little sisters, and I are up visiting my grandparents in New York. My dad is reading the paper one morning and says, “Hey, Aaron, there’s a science fiction convention in town! Do you want to go?” Now, this is one of the cool things about my parents—neither of them were all that big into genre themselves (although my dad is the one who introduced me to Doctor Who) but they knew I was and had no problem with that. Case in point: the aforementioned exclamation. I, of course, say, “Wow, really? Yeah!”

Next thing I know, my parents are dropping me off at the convention—they give me money for a one-day pass and tell me when they’ll be back to pick me up. Yeah, I know, but different times and all that.

I spend the next few hours wandering the show. It was in a hotel downtown, I don’t remember which one anymore, but it had an enormous ballroom and that’s where they put the dealer’s room. I go from booth to booth, gawking at videotapes and patches and comics and books and posters and action figures and so on. It’s great—I’ve never been to a convention before and I absolutely love it.

Time’s getting short, though, so I start making my way toward the exit, when I see a sign: “Isaac Asimov signing this way.” Wait, what? I’d read Caves of Steel and Foundation and I, Robot and probably a few others, and let’s face it, Asimov was THE MAN. And he was here, at the same con as me? And signing? I had to go for it.

So I find where he’s signing, which happened to be basically a large landing off a staircase that led outside, and I get in line. I don’t have anything for him to sign, mind you—I came to the con with absolutely nothing in hand—but I figure I’ll hand him a flier, a scrap of paper, my shirt, whatever.

I’m still in line when my sister finds me. “Mom and Dad are outside,” she says. “We need to go.”

“I can’t!” I tell her. “It’s Asimov!” And I point to him.

YoungAaron1To her eternal credit, my sister doesn’t scoff. She says, “I’ll tell them,” and leaves. She’s back a few minutes later. “Okay, they’re circling the block.” And she waits with me.

I’m almost to the front when I make a confession: “I don’t have anything for him to sign,” I tell her.

My sister wordlessly reaches into her purse and pulls out a battered paperback copy of Pebble in the Sky. She just happened to be reading it on the trip. She hands it to me.

I have never loved my sister as much as I did at that moment.

My sister and I get to the front, and there’s the man himself. Asimov. He smiles at us, says hello, and holds out his hand for the book. When he takes it he gets this fond look on his face like “ah, hello, old friend!” Clearly this is a book that has been well read. He signs it and hands it back with a thank you. Which blows me away. It’s ASIMOV! And he’s thanking me!

I’m pretty sure my sister had to guide me out of the building and into our parents’ car; I was too stunned to move on my own.

Now I’m an author myself. I’ve written a whole lot of books. I often sign books at conventions. And whenever I do, I always think about how this pioneer of science fiction took the time, not only to sign for fans, but to say hello to each one and to thank them for coming, for reading his books, for liking them.

That’s the kind of man I want to be. It’s the kind of man I hope I am.

And I wonder, from time to time, if my sister still has that paperback. She kept it—it was her book, after all, and she hadn’t finished reading it.