Monthly Archives: February 2013

I Got #Class

On June 3, I’ll be at the Clinton-Macomb Public Library teaching anyone who wants to self-publish how to do it on #kindle, #nook, and #smashwords. If you know somebody in the area who might be interested, let them know they are welcome to join. I became interested in doing this because of the publishing scams that charge a fee for doing something that is extremely easy to learn. These companies are profiting (if they’ve even made a dime) off technophobia and I want to give them a step-by-step guide to getting it done on their own.
Hopefully, I can turn this into a series and speak at libraries all across SE Michigan and beyond.

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Zombie Curb Job #TheWalkingDead

That’s the most significant thing that actually happened. Rick’s group is still sweaty and hungry-looking, the Governor’s folk are clean and (relatively) happy. Oh, who will Andrea choose? Tonight’s episode just ratchets up the tension for what’s coming. I don’t know yet if any of my predictions need to be revised. Merle is kind of in the group, despite being locked away in a cell and Rick has temporarily put away the crazy. I have nothing to say about this journey with Rick, Carl, and Michonne. But this sniper character could add a new wrinkle. Was he with the Woodbury group or gas he had run-ins with them? As anyone could have predicted, Andrea chose relative safety over what she knew was right. Look for her to double-down on that bad decision after the two groups come to blows again.

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#TheWalkingDead – Q&A with Norman Reedus

 
 
February 19, 2013
Q&A - Norman Reedus (Daryl Dixon)
Q&A – Norman Reedus (Daryl Dixon)
Norman Reedus, who plays Daryl Dixon on AMC’s The Walking Dead, talks about duking it out with his on-screen brother and why Chandler Riggs considers him the other kid on set.Q: Emily Kinney told us about how they worked her skills as a singer into the show. Have any of your off-screen talents been integrated into your character?

A: I can’t sing like Emily, but a lot of my characteristics are in Daryl. I ride a bike and am good at giving people dirty looks.

Q: You’ve been riding your motorcycle on-set and off for a few years now. Have you found some good back-country Georgia roads to cruise?

A: I take it south of here and I don’t even keep track of where I am. I drive for hours. I’ve found so many new trails and so many new roads. The motorcycle Daryl rides is the one they picked out from Season 1 — it was in the background. They found that bike and left the stickers on and liked it so much they didn’t want to change anything.

Q: It’s hard to imagine anyone else playing Daryl. What are some ways you’ve made the character your own?

A: When you do television, you have this opportunity to drop these subtle hints everywhere. The way you say things, for example, sometimes those seeds turn into trees. I’ve had quite a few of those things happen. Daryl’s childhood, for example. In Season 2 when Carol kisses me after Andrea shoots at me, I flinched. That wasn’t in the script and now this year there’s a story line about how I had an abusive childhood. Having to do 16 episodes with these characters, of course we’re going to find more to do. Carol and Daryl have a stronger bond, and I’ve gotten to explore stuff with my brother, for example.

Q: Was the reunion of Daryl and Merle this season as sweet for you and Michael Rooker as it was for fans?

Continue reading “Q&A – Norman Reedus (Daryl Dixon)” »

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#TheWalkingDead – Parallels

I love parallels in literature and movies. A few are starting to emerge in the second half of season 3. You may have read my thoughts on what it’s going to take to bring Rick out of his funk and that prediction seems to be coming true.
But in the first half of this season, Rick seemed to have a breakdown of sorts after Lori died. Well, apparently that breakdown is being experienced on the installment plan.
My prediction? Merle is going to save Rick. I don’t know if this will mean he survives or not, but Merle will be the 1 to bring Rick back from the brink.
Here’s the parallel: Rick tried to save Merle from the rooftop, but was too late. Right now, that means nothing to Merle even though his brother has already explained that to him, but somewhere in these remaining few episodes, Merle will see who Rick really is. And he will finally think beyond himself. The group coming together to save Rick and Sunday night’s episode doesn’t count.
Rick will be trapped somewhere and the group will have to unify and respond. Merle will have the option of going in 1 of 2 directions. 1, and I believe this is the path he will take, will leave him to Rick where he will save him. Just as Rick attempted to save Merle.
But you also have the parallels between the Governor and Rick. Both have lost someone dear to them recently, although the governor’s daughter was technically already dead. Both are wearing their wounds outwardly. The Governor’s eye and Rick’s grief. Both are not being very effective leaders right now, although the Governor led a pretty good assault on the prison.
Obviously, the 2 men are on a collision course of some kind. It may not be resolved by season’s end with the death of 1 or the other. But look for the 2 men to become even more similar before they return to being their own men.

And hey, if you enjoy the AMC zombie show, why not try out this Zombie Show?

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What’s Your Favorite Flower?

My wife and I started a discussion on a whim this morning.  She asked me if I had a favorite flower and of course I said no.  I couldn’t even imagine what my favorite would be.  Offhand, the only flower I could think of was a rose, but my favorite?  That was just a knee-jerk reaction.  I don’t even know how to spell chrysanthemum (is that right?).  Is an azalea a flower or a tree?  I think she’s way off base, but she thinks I’m a little more cave-man than previously indicated.  What say you?

 

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How to #Sell Advanced Reader Copies as a Self-Published Author | Lindsay Buroker

http://www.lindsayburoker.com/e-publishing/how-to-sell-advanced-reader-copies-self-publishing/

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Field of Screams #amreading

No new Dethm8 tonight.  I’m under some self-imposed deadlines and haven’t been able to devote any time to it.  In the meantime, Field of Screams is a story I wrote back when I was fifteen.  It didn’t get finished until I was in my 20s but I never saw anything to do with it.  So enjoy!

“Hey Ma, where’s Bobbie?” Ryan asked, tossing his baseball glove on the couch and looking around.

His mother turned her head in his direction, but her eyes still had the same glazed over look they had when she was looking at the television.

            “He went… he went out with his new friend,” she said, tired.  “I told him to be back by dinner.”

            Ryan figured his mother’s pain must have been really bad.  She must have taken two or three pills to be this out of it.  After helping her into bed, he kissed her forehead and cheek as she had done so many times to him as a child and turned towards the door.

            “Ryan,” his mother called.  “They were heading to that old barn you used to go to.”

            “At that, a chill ran down his spine.  The old barn was the place he told his mother he was going when he was younger, when in fact it had burned down several years earlier.  He had only gone down that way with one person.  To the place where It happened.  And now that was the place Ryan was sure Bobbie was going.

            “Sweet dreams,” he tried to say but his voice cracked audibly.  Ryan stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door as quietly as possible.

            He burst through the front door, already forgetting his sleeping mother as he fumbled with the car keys.  He unlocked the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel, bumping his head on the doorframe.  He keyed the ignition, ignoring the ringing in his ears.

            After passing where the old barn had been and going over the train tracks, he stopped ten yards farther down on the upward slope of a wide hill.  He stepped out of the car and squinted his eyes at the false horizon line and took a dry swallow in apprehension.  Subconsciously, he touched the raspberry burn on his arm and realizing, he wiped the excess petroleum jelly on his pants leg.

Ryan took the keys out of the ignition and popped the trunk.  He ran around to the back and grabbed a crowbar and a flare gun he jammed down the front of his pants.

As he rounded the crest of the hill he began to see the treetops of the forest.  He got the feeling of a thousand tiny fingers crawling all over him but ignored it and kept going.  The cornstalks that outlined either side of the road here began to thin out until they were altogether absent thirty yards away from the forest.

Ryan dashed the last yards to the forest.  He got down on his hands and knees and realized this was the same way he entered the forest when he and Denny had come down here all those years ago.  They had come here on a day much like this one and gone deep into the bowl-shaped forest on some well-worn path until they came to the biggest hole he had ever seen.  Ryan had been afraid to approach it while Denny would throw rocks and spit in it.

Ryan reluctantly approached, but before he could work his way down, he tripped, flinging his arms out in front of him and knocking the wind out of himself as he landed face down. 

He got up, Denny was nowhere to be found.  He’d called out after him for half an hour, searching everywhere.  Figuring he had gotten chicken and run off himself, Ryan began to head home when he’d heard it.  They’d never seen anything bigger than a squirrel on the way to the forest and hadn’t seen anything while they were in the forest, but a low groan that carried all throughout the forest came from behind him as he approached the enclosing branches and bushes.  Ryan crawled through and hurried out not looking behind him as the groan rose to the fevered pitch of a scream that went on and on in a voice all too human and all too familiar.

Ryan awoke from his daydreaming, sweating and clenching the crowbar.  He crawled the rest of the way through and began walking the downward slope.  He came to a crest of bushes that rose to his chest and peeked over.  Bobbie and a barefoot boy wearing what looked like a burlap sack for a shirt were hunched over with their hands on their knees.  Parting the bushes with the crowbar, he crept through as silently as possible.  Bobbie’s friend raised his hand as if to pat him on the back and Ryan broke through the bushes like a raging bull.  The hand came down and swatted him on the back and just as Bobbie was tipping over into the hole, Ryan leapt and reached out, almost flying through the air, and hooked his little brother’s shorts with the crowbar.  He hit the ground, bounced and slid, but got his fingers deep enough into the dirt, keeping them both from falling in.

Bobbie immediately began twisting to try and get a handhold on whatever had saved him.  Catching hold of his brother’s arm, he turned and Ryan let go of the crowbar and grasped Bobbie’s arm and began to pull, nodding at him because he hadn’t yet caught his breath.

“Wait a minute, this thing is in my back!”  Bobbie let go with one hand to pull it free.  As the crowbar ripped free of his shorts, Bobbie’s friend roared and fell on Ryan, grabbing his ears and ramming his face into the hard-packed earth.

Dazed and bleeding, Ryan tried to hold on, but his brother’s hand slipped.  Bobbie swung wildly around with the crowbar and caught it on the lip of the hole.  Ryan flung his arm out and rolled to get the boy off him, but he straddled him again and locked his hands around Ryan’s throat.

Ryan gagged and clawed at the hand like a vise on his neck and bucked and kicked in a vain effort to throw him off.  Stars danced in his vision as he felt his strength waning.  There was a thick crunching sound and the boy’s head jerked violently to the side.  He slumped over to the side, his eyes rolled up into his head.

His brother stood before him as Ryan shoved the boy aside, gasping for air.  Ryan slowly stood and began to usher Bobbie away from the boy, laid out like a tossed aside rag doll.  They got a few feet up the slope when a rock hit Bobbie between the shoulder blades and he went down with a sharp cry.  Ryan turned and was tackled by the boy.

This time Ryan got a good look at the face that was the same as Denny’s, save for the deep grooved gash at his temple.  The boy’s face swelled and turned a deep green.  His face hardened and cracked from the middle of his forehead to his nose and then split and ran underneath either cheek to form an upside-down Y.

Ryan struggled with the hands suddenly stronger than his own.  The thing’s eyes became vertically ovular and took on a pink iridescent hue as the face became rigid and lined.  Ryan screamed as the Y split burst open revealing dozens of rows of tiny claw-shaped teeth in a cavern of a mouth that was the thing’s entire head.  It pinned one of Ryan’s arms down and leaned in, its mouth yawning even wider.

Ryan’s free hand scrambled between them and snatched the flare gun from his pants.  He jerked the trigger with the gun pointed at the thing.  It pulled away and screamed as the flame ball danced crazily around in its mouth.  Ryan pushed its head up to keep it off him and they began to roll back down to the hole.

It clawed at Ryan all the way down and right before they rolled over into the hole, Ryan spread his legs, and threw the thing away from him.  His wrist was still in its grasp and as his arm hit the ground he heard his elbow snap.  Its grip slipped free from his lubricated arm and Ryan rolled over on his side, clutching the wounded arm.

He blinked through his tears and saw Bobbie coming down as he got to his knees.

“Bobbie, run.  I’m right behind you,” he said weakly.  His brother looked at him confused when suddenly a violent scream exploded from the hole. 

The earth shook and immediately began to crumble underfoot.  Ryan struggled to his feet and screamed at Bobbie.  They both began running, the animal sound coming from the hole rising in pitch as it began to close.  Ryan ran as fast as his throbbing arm would allow as trees, grass and bushes all converged on the fast contracting hole.  Wind rushed in their faces, pushing them back.

The screaming stopped and everything was quiet.  Bobbie stopped and turned to look back at Ryan.

“Don’t stop!  Keep going!” Ryan called, feeling on the verge of fainting.  Trees started falling into the hollow ground, leaving jagged holes from where they had been rooted just a moment before.  The ground cracked under each footstep and Ryan looked up to see a wall rising where the edge of the forest was.

He caught up with Bobbie and tried hoisting him up with his good arm, but it was too high.

“I don’t want to leave without you!” Bobbie shouted over the rumbling earth.

“Go now!  You’ll never be able to help me over.  I can jump.”

Ryan got down on one knee and Bobbie climbed up on his shoulders.  Bobbie reached the top and scrambled over the other side.  He fell on his side and saw the wall fall over where Ryan should have been.

“Bobbie run!” he heard his brother shout for the last time.

He stumbled to his feet and turned to go, but as he saw the forest receding he fell back to his knees and wept helplessly, hearing his brother’s muffled screams.

The forest stopped receding and the land began to smooth out again.  Bobbie could almost see the grass growing and young trees reaching up from the rich, fertile-looking soil.  Ryan was gone from the last place he thought he’d seen him.

His eyes had been closed for quite some time when he heard the footsteps.

“Ryan?” he called.  No one answered, but he could hear someone coming closer, pushing through the thick foliage.  Bobbie searched the renewed forest, but it was too thick to see anything.

An emaciated figure stepped out from behind a cluster of tall bushes, walking with his hands behind his back.  It looked like Ryan, but all the angles of the face looked too high and the eyes looked menacing somehow.  Slowly, the face began to relax, looking more like him.  But then Bobbie noticed the clothes were all wrong.  He was barefoot, wearing an old pair of jeans and a shirt that looked like he’d cut holes for his head and arms out of a potato sack and put it on.

            He brought his arms out in front of him and instead of hands, he had long branches twisting down midway to his calf, a leaf here and there amongst them.

            “I thought I told you to run,” the Ryan-thing said.

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#TheWalkingDead Gets Series High Ratings #amwatching CSMonitor.com

http://m.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/TV/2013/0212/Walking-Dead-record-The-zombie-show-hits-a-series-high

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E-mail Has Exceeded… (Phishing Scam)

I just got this in my email. If you get it, please know this is a scam and not an official communication from AT&T or Yahoo.

Yahoo! Mail
ACCOUNT UPDATE VERIFICATION

Dear Customer

Your E-mail account has exceeded its limit and needs to be verified, if not verified within 24hours, we shall suspend your account. Click Here to verify your email account now

Thank you
Yahoo!

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#TAG Meet at B & N @ Troy, MI Tomorrow!

Tomorrow from 7-9 join me for the first Troy Authors’ Group meeting at the John R location. If you’re an unpublished writer, working on your dozenth novel, or anywhere in between, come have a cuppa with us and talk about it the second Tuesday of every month. http://store-locator.barnesandnoble.com/event/4207413-1

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