My Favorite Child — Sticking it to the Man

FKfrontcoverSometimes I just want to stick it to the man.

With the super awesome power of my books, that is.

Sometimes it’s a hoot, poking fun, or just calling out the absurdities of life by going over the top with some goofy character or hyped-up scenario.

And sometimes it just doesn’t fit. I’ll explain:

In FINDERS KEEPERS, I crafted a scene with the character of Donald — a 40ish, balding worker-bee called into the CEO’s office; an office in Eternity, the realm that oversees the construction of all celestial bodies in the Universe.

In this scene, the CEO was in the process of humiliating his secretary, yet again, simply because he could.

The elevators had gone out in the building, yet the CEO was forcing his secretary to walk down some 40 flights of stairs to retrieve his lunch order. And, of course, the CEO did all this through an intercom, adding to the humiliation.

Donald, who happened to walk into this scene, volunteered to do the grunt work, sparing the secretary this mortifying task. Ultimately, it did not go well for anyone.

The reason I crafted this scene to begin with — hey, it was fun to write and it helped with Donald’s character development — is that it’s based on a true story, as amazing as that may sound.

I hate bullies and weasels, and saw this as a perfect opportunity to ‘stick it to the man’ with what I thought was a well-crafted scene.

Only one problem.

As far as FINDERS KEEPERS went, the scene — while effective unto itself — was not critical to advancing the overall plot of the novel, and slowed down the pace.

So even though I spent the better part of two weeks fine-tuning the action, and as much as I hated to do so, I cut it from the manuscript.

I still have hopes that I’ll find another place for this scene; it may yet show up in the third and final book of the first FINDERS KEEPERS trilogy, or perhaps I’ll use it in one of the spin-off books I have in mind. Or maybe I’ll never find the right spot. Tough to tell.

In any case, as an author, it’s sometimes tough to take one of your favorite children and slip them into a drawer.

Then again, that’s the beauty of there being so many pinheads in the world. There’s always another chance to stick it to the man.

 

Tales of the Crimson Keep—Revealed!

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

Who’s Your Daddy?

By Paul Kupperberg

GogglemanI was listening to a writer being interviewed on NPR the other day and the interviewer asked Stock Question #27: “So out of all your books, which is your favorite?” The write responded with Stock Answer #27: “All my books are like my children. How do you pick a favorite?”

Yeah. Sure. Look, every writer knows when they’ve screwed the pooch and written something that just doesn’t stack up against the rest of what they’ve done, or just flat out sucks. If you’re a believer in Sturgeon’s Law (“90% of everything is crud.”) than 90% of what every writer writes has to be crud (unless you’ve revised it as I have to make it Sturgeon’s Law–Now Improved With Face Saving Rationalization!: “90% of everything by everybody except me is crud.”). But even if you don’t accept the Law, I can understand using Stock Answer #27 instead of responding truthfully; why open yourself up to the follow-up question, “So which one of your books, etc. do you think isn’t so good?” Which can also be asked as, “Which of your books shouldn’t readers waste their money on?”

(See, this is why I only had the one kid.)

But to the question at hand: I do have some books, stories, comic books, whatever that I’ve written that I like more than others. I can’t really think of many things I’ve worked on that I outright hate, even if I wasn’t happy with it at the time I finished it (oh wait…I almost forgot The Adventures of Goggleman, an instructional comic I wrote in 1992 for the Power Tool Institute. I kid you not. “Always wear your safety goggles and always read, understand, and follow the owner’s manual!”). Usually, with the softening effect of a little time and emotional distance between the actual work and taking another look, I find it’s really not as bad as I thought. Maybe not my best but I usually put it down with an, at worst, mildly satisfied, “Well, maybe that didn’t suck as much as I thought.” (Usually, although there’ll be a few epic fails, like the one I discussed here, in an earlier blog post.)

Conversely, there are projects that I’ve pushed away from after typing “the end” and said, “Okay, this almost doesn’t suck!” (That’s understatement, so as not to jinx anything or, as my people say, put the kina horah, or evil eye, on it.)

Jew-JitsuCOVEROne such project was The Same Old Story (available, I’m obliged to remind you, right here from Crazy 8 Press). It was one of those times when, once I got going, everything just seemed to come together and roll merrily along to a wonderfully (to me) satisfying conclusion.

Another of my babies to which I can point with some pride is Jew-Jitsu: The Hebrew Hands of Fury, a humor book I wrote for Kensington Publishing in 2008. It’s written as an instruction manual for a Jewish-based martial arts but is, in reality, a repository of Jewish jokes, Yiddish humor, and silly plays on religious traditions. It’s no longer in print, but if you want to learn such moves as the Davening Headbutt, the Payess of Fury, the Deadly Punch in the Kishkes, and how to use the throwing star of David, it’s still available for the Kindle here.JSAragnaCOVER

The third of my babies was, if you’ll pardon the disturbing comparison, stillborn. In 2004, I signed with Byron Preiss’ iBooks to write a trilogy of Justice Society of America novels. Book One, JSA: Ragnarok was finished in July 2005, just weeks after Byron’s early, tragic death in a traffic accident. Others tried to keep iBooks going, but they weren’t able to hold the company together and were forced to file for Chapter 7 bankruptcy on February 22, 2006…the very week Ragnarok was supposed to go to the printer. I have a PDF of the uncorrected proof, and, within the last year or so, have been in touch with the publishing concern that acquired iBooks’ assets (Ragnarok included) about getting the book to market. However, the new company and DC haven’t been able to come to terms (DC owns the rights to the JSA; the other publisher owns the rights to the manuscript, meaning neither can publish the book without the cooperation of the other) so it’s unlikely Ragnarok will ever make it to print. (You can, however, check out a few excerpts I’ve posted to my website, here, here, here, and here.)

I really do love all my “children,” but as it is with the people we love in our lives, there are some I definitely like better than others. But don’t tell that to Goggleman. There’s really no reason to hurt his feelings.

You Always Remember Your First

Romulan_StratagemA rule of advice to authors is to kill your darlings. You might love a line or a character or a scene but if it does not help the overall work, it should ruthlessly be excised without looking back. But, authors are infrequently asked about which of your darlings would you save. Who is your favorite? Most authors will tell you it’s like asking which of your children you love most. You love them all the same, you tell people.

The truth is we don’t love our written works with equal fervor. Recently, I addressed Time Station Berlin, a work I wish I had a chance to redo.  I’ve written books with zero editorial direction and while good, could have been better. Even with good editorial input I know I could have written a few better but circumstances interfered.  I’ve written books as a favor to the editor so it was a job. I wrote a book on desserts, easily the most boring book I’ve written, because no one else offered me work at the time. So no, I don’t love them all differently.

I’ve written some pieces to take on the personal challenge, as I did when I tackled The Nature of Energy. Not being a science guy, I figured if I could make sense out of it for myself, I can convey that to middle schoolers. A huge baseball fan, I wrote the biography of Wilt Chamberlain just so the editor could see what I can do and be in her mind when a baseball opportunity rolled around leading to the Lou Gehrig assignment.

Out of personal pride, I loved working on The Essential Batman Encyclopedia which may be a bit of esoteric for some but a labor of love and something I remain incredibly proud of. Similarly, I dove into the research with deep interest and feel out of all the young adult work I have done to date, the Bataan Death March was the best of the bunch.

But, do I have an all-time favorite?

Well, you always remember your first. In this case, it was my first solo novel, Star Trek: TNG – The Romulan Stratagem. Having cut my fiction teeth on collaborations, the time had finally come to write something on my own. I relished the notion that we had not really seen Jean-Luc Picard lose a conflict with an opposing race. From that simple concept, I spun a story that brought in the then-underused Romulans and even the emotionally charged figure of Sela. It worked out pretty well and I note over at Goodreads that it remains one of my best reviewed works, which I think still holds up.

And maybe the next one I write will bump that off the pedestal.

Redemption

2013-02-16 Mike & AaronEvery good story has it in some form or another. Characters you think can’t possibly be reclaimed, can’t possibly be brought back from the brink of the abyss, nonetheless find some measure of salvation from the burdens they’ve been carrying.

Burdens of guilt. Burdens of regret. Burdens they didn’t even know they were lugging around, sometimes. And when they’re relieved of those burdens at long last, we breathe a heartfelt sigh along with them.

Because we all have pasts. We all have memories of incidents we wish had turned out differently—and would have, perhaps, if we had made one choice rather than another. It hurts to know that we screwed up big-time at some point in our lives and now there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, we can do about it.

Except…sometimes we can do something about it. Sometimes we get a second chance to make things come out right. And sometimes, unfortunately, we only think we’ve got that chance.

Which is the crux of “The Seeming,” my contribution to our maddeningly imminent Crazy 8 Press anthology, Tales of the Crimson Keep.

It’s a wonderful place, by the way, this Crimson Keep. So big and complex and ever-changing that almost anything is possible in its shadowy precincts. So redemption is always just around the corner. Or not. Depends on how you look at it, when you look at it, and whether you’re even inclined to look in the first place.

I haven’t yet mentioned the protagonist in my Crimson Keep story. He’s…what can I say…a demon. More specifically, the most puissant demon-warlord Koliander the Undying, whom we met in “Demon Circle,” and who was eventually–

Hang on a second. Maybe you’re one of the two or three benighted souls who haven’t had the inestimable pleasure of reading “Demon Circle” yet. In that case, I’d better not say what happens to Koliander. The last thing I want to do is spoil it for you.

What I will say is that the most puissant demon-warlord Koliander the Undying needs some redeeming. Lots of redeeming. And salvation too, scads of it. I mean, he’s a demon, right? If you knew nothing else about him, you’d imagine there was plenty of room for redemption in his life, and in my story he gets the chance to grab him some.

Not that he’s actually looking for redemption. He’s looking for something quite different—or thinks he is. In fact, he doesn’t know a whole lot more about what’s going on in “The Seeming” than you do. Which, when you think about it, is precious little.

But you’ll find out everything about everything, or at least everything worth knowing about Koliander’s fate, in the Crazy 8 Press tome The Crimson Keep, on sale at better on-line retailers in both print and digital formats this coming August 1.

Redemption—unlike payback, it’s not a bitch. Except when it is.

Tales of the Crimson Keep will be available in digital and print formats on August 1.

An Asimovian Surprise

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.

Crazy Good Stories