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Hemlock Grove (spoilers) And strong opinions. Strong, strong opinions.

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Or, why Netflix should NOT DO SHIT LIKE THAT AGAIN.

Apparently, this is the writing process for Hemlock Grove.

“Here’s a book that would make an awesome TV show.”

“Okay, cool. But we’re going to make some rewrites and screw shit up exponentially, since the source material would never, ever be good enough.”

“Great. So, our show is going to be about genetic modification, mad scientists, Frankenstein, werewolves, slut-shaming she-werewolves, horny teenagers, vampires, teen angst, teen pregnancy, angels, supernatural visitations, crazy people, witches, gypsies, psychic abilities, horrific fake accents, spirit-walks, and boobs.”

“Yeah, can’t forget boobs!”

“All righty, then. I think that’s all the writing we need to do. Let’s start filming now.”

It had potential. Really. And then…no. Famke Jenson started talking. What the heck?? That accent was ATROCIOUS. It sounded horrible! It sounded like she was TRYING to sound like a wicked witch in a Disney movie.

Then other people started talking, and it sounded like the writers were channeling the original Dark Shadows. The only character I liked was Peter and his mom. Everyone else was pretentious, over-acted, so, incredibly, painfully stereotyped it HURT. The cold-eyed prince with the dark, dark secret. The psychiatrist in need of a psychiatrist. The giggling mad scientist. The evil queen surveying her crumbling empire. The angelic, too-good-for-this-world female. The shifty-eyed, angsty, hide-behind-her-hair nutjob channeling Nadine from Stephen King’s The Stand (heavens, somebody else tell me they noticed that too?). The spooky psychic with the ominous, enigmatic warnings.

Would it hurt to inject a little originality into a series, which had a WORLD of opportunities and potential at its fingertips?

Or how about answer all the questions? Why does Shelley glow? Why exactly is Ouroboros? What happened to Shelley? What was the stuff Olivia dripped in her eye? WHY DOES THE LITTLE GIRL HAVE AN EFFING TAIL? Why did cutting off the tail kill her? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT LIL’ VIGNETTE? Why was there supposedly all this animosity between the Godfreys and Romanceks, but moms and sons were buddy-buddy after a couple of heart to hearts? If Olivia was a vampire, why was she in the steel mill, puking up half-chewed meat, but later claimed the body left there wasn’t her work? And–OMG–what sort of hospital ANNOUNCES A PATIENT HAS DIED OVER THE INTERCOM? How did Roman not know he banged his half-sister/cousin? Why wasn’t the “He’s your real father” investigated or expounded upon further? And there were half a dozen more that just sort of fell by the wayside as the series got caught up in itself.

Also, wha about the dragon stuff? We have the religious werewolf slayer Order, then we have Shelley and the bum spouting poetry about seeing dragons, and then at the end, Olivia says they are not warriors, they are dragons, yet none of them tie in together, nor do they relate to one another!
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I find this ever so amusing…

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When you publish a book, you’re sending your baby out into the world. It’s up to you to make sure that progeny can stand up on its own. If it can’t…

Also, when you send your book to a review site, you’re asking for a person’s opinion of a book. When you outright ask a reviewer “What did you think of my book?” you should expect an honest answer. Either way, an ethical reviewer is going to be honest. 

And you can’t take it personally. The reviewer isn’t saying “So-and-so is a horrible person and deserved to be quartered and hung.” A good reviewer is going to tell you why your book didn’t get that five-star rating. Whether you agree with it or not, you can’t deny them their opinion of your book. The only time a reviewer should be called to point regarding a review they’ve written, is if they get stuff completely wrong (as in setting, character names, etc). 

HEre’s a delightful little exchange between me and an author over on amazon… 

His reply to my initial review, which is posted on this site as well: “This is a nice review, considering it’s more aimed at you as an editor…..If that’s what you really are??
I like the way you’ve used my words during our emails to try to make people look at you as an editor and less of me as an author. What’s your gain?? To get people to go to you for a cheap edit/proofread…..Seriously…….
You may not like the way I write, that’s your call, but many, many other readers do. Are you telling me they are all wrong about my book?? – I don’t think you can answer that because deep down you know that we are not all the same, and we don’t read the same. I’m just not like you. It’s that simple, but thanks for pointing out your thoughts about my work…..”

My reply:
“First lesson any author MUST learn post-publication is: reviews are opinions. When you send that book out there, it’s like sending your adult child out into the world. They have be able to stand by themselves. Sometimes, they can’t. 

I don’t think this book can. This is my opinion. It’s mine, and it doesn’t really matter if you like it or not, because I’m entitled to it. You sent your unedited/badly edited (without mention of it being an ARC, which, terrifyingly, it wasn’t), horribly formatted, overly-written, mis-plotted book to MY book review website, and then asked my opinion. 

You don’t read books. It shows. Fact. You prefer not to have your book professionally edited for whatever reason (which, by the way, is not a offer of services, and never was). Fact. Side note: I did, however, offer advice on how to find an editor. I’ve been there. I’ve been broke. Been too prideful. But in the end, product matters. But if you’re okay with spending your money on a shoddy product, okeydokey. You’re the one who will ultimately have to face that. 

As a result, professionally speaking, your book deserves no stars, but Amazon requires me to select one. Opinion. But also, fact, in a way. I shared snippets of your book with a few very successful writers with whom I am friends. Responses ranged from silent head-shakes and horrified glances to “OMG whut?” The GOOD parts of your book are stripped away because of the lack of editing and mangled formatting. Interestingly, you wanted to throw the ‘all the other readers must be wrong’ thing in my face. If you read carefully, most of your 9 reviews mention the problems with editing. I don’t know…might mean something. Quite honestly, we DO read the same. We use the English alphabet to form sounds, which then form words, which then form sentences, paragraphs, which all mush around in the comprehension centers in our brains to form a meaningful experience…etc. If you mean, we don’t all know the difference between a well-edited, good book and a “It’s done! PUBLISH ALL THE THINGS NOW!” book, you’re right. And that’s a shame, when there are amazing books by fantastic authors (Brian Keene, Carolyn McCray, Joe McKinnley, Mercedes Murdock Yardley, Elizabeth Massie, Ellen Datlow…wait, you don’t read, so you probably don’t know any of their books) who have put their heart and souls into books and DESERVE to sell millions of copies…and then there’s Clifton Falls, of which the author doesn’t like to read, doesn’t want to use an editor, and sees no problem with offering a badly formatted, unedited book for sale. Again, my opinion, to which I’m entitled.

Again, mostly opinion, but when you compare it to the industry standard, fact. You can’t rise to the next level if you don’t conquer the one you’re on, with every project you undertake. 

Lesson two every published writer has to learn: You don’t like a review? Move on. You do realize a bad review can generate as many sales as a good one, right? No? It happens. People want to know what the hullabaloo is about. Granted, they’ll probably agree once they understand the specific points I’m talking about, but it takes a good minute and some effort to get Amazon to refund a purchase. 

Lesson three: A reviewer offers legitimate constructive criticism? You have two options: Take the advice and roll with it, or shrug your shoulders and walk away. Win some, lose some. 

If you really want to be a writer, you have to grow a thick skin. You have to take reviews with a grain of salt, or a spoonful of sugar. Maybe that’s lesson four? 

This isn’t coming from somebody who sits and reads books all day. This is coming from a peer, and some one who has far more experience than you in the same field. I’ve been in the industry in various capacities for over a decade. I make my living in this industry. The average reader may not see the things that will keep you from taking it up a notch, but I do, as do any published, serious, non-hack authors. Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to help you, dude.”

 

 

Buy this book. Now.

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School’s Out Forever by Scott K. Andrews

 

AWEsome!! I grabbed this book on a whim while I was hunting down some over-priced Doctor Who merchandise in a bookstore. It took me two solid weeks to actually start it, and then three days to finish it. It’s absolutely one of the best books I’ve read in a long. 

It’s brutal. Angry. Violent. Honest. The gore and carnage and violence is intense, but it’s not gratuitous. It’s not about shock-value. The characters reactions to what has happened to them is just painfully realistic. They learn to survive, but they also learn to think of their friends, and their community. They band together to destroy those who want to hurt them, and they do it with swift brutality. 

The four stories in the book all seem a little too big to be realistic. It’s a similar formula in each one–threat looms, the hero, Lee, gathers his forces, basically blunders into the enemies’ headquarters, and gets shot, hanged, stabbed, bones broken, tortured, friends are killed…and then the bad guy makes a mistake and Lee walks his people out (figuratively. By the end of the book he’s absolutely broken, body and soul, and it’s one of the most crushing moments of the books when it can’t be hidden anymore). 

I love how strong the female characters are in the stories. While Matron is the main female lead, by the end of the book, Caroline is stepping up and taking names. 

The writing is strong and vibrant. Details are rendered in excruciating clarity. When you take a step back, you realize these plots wouldn’t work in real life…or would they? Why do you need complicated, multi-pronged attack when you can just wait until you’re face to face with the enemy, and kill him then?

LOved this book. Can’t recommend it enough. Read it! 

Clifton Falls by L. A. Taylor, or How Self-Publishing Makes Me Very Sad

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When an author tells you they don’t like to read, you automatically get that that sinking feeling in your gut. When they tell you they basically have no need of an editor, you get that same feeling, only ten times worse. I read half the book, skimmed the rest, emailed the author, then went back and finished reading more thoroughly, very nearly praying that I wouldn’t find the truths I sought. Waxing poetic there…anyway, yeah, well…

I can’t get those hours back.

The story is convoluted and while it could have been woven together better (this is where an EDITOR would have helped immensely), as is, it’s confusing and the subplots have the feeling of being tacked on. The story itself wasn’t bad. Generic zombie plot and all. The characters were interesting and on their way to a proper development. BUt then the whole not-reading thing got in the way. There are just ‘things’ a writers learns  from reading other authors’ work. How do you write a book, without reading? It’s like a zombie hunter trying to kill zombies, but not knowing to aim for the head.

This is my problem with self-publishing. Note: I don’t have a problem with self-publishing in general–I have one book out and will release another fairly soon. I have a problem with just ‘anybody’ self-publishing.

I remember when having a book published meant something. A writer worked hard to write and polish and edit and develop that book. They’d spent MONTHS in slush piles. Months researching which agent, editor, publisher to send it to. Months waiting to hear back from agents and publishers. Years of their lives could be consumed with just getting one book published.

It used to mean something.

It still does, occasionally. Your book can get picked up by any of a million small presses, or one of the bigger indie publishers, or, miraculously, a brick-and-mortar publisher. Hard work can pay off.

Lots of writers go the self-release route. Many are fantastic authors who are tired of the  struggle. The difference between this type of writer, and the pot-boilers? They want their books to be amazing, and it shows. They put money and time and effort into having their books edited, into cover art, into marketing and promotion. They have a product they can stand behind and be proud of.

The way I look at it is, if you’re going to spend the time and put the effort into writing a book, do it the right way. Hire an editor. Can’t afford an editor? Trade. Bargain. Deal. Find a way to make it happen. Nothing destroys a good book faster than lack of editing.

And in ebooks, FORMATTING. That was my other major issue with this particular book. The first couple dozen pages were formatting properly. After that…it was nearly unreadable in places.

Maybe I’m a snob. I don’t know…I just feel if you’re going to offer a product for sale, you want it to be worth the money. A  confusing, unedited, unformatted, half-assed book sorta blows. Especially when it has potential, and the author just doesn’t care enough to make it into everything it could be.

Fresh Meat by Carolyn McCray

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Carolyn McCray’s “Fresh Meat.” Awesome little book. I read it in less than an hour. It’s funny, gory, goofy, sweet, and interesting. It needs a GOOD stiff line edit (lotsa typos!) but it’s a good enough story with fun enough characters that I could mostly overlook them. The story and writing are VERY reminiscent of my fav-o-rite authors, Jeff Strand, Blake Crouch, and J.A. Konrath that I’m going hunting for more of this chick’s work. The book could use a tidbit of tightening up, but it was actually pretty darn good. I don’t remember if I bought this book or if it was sent in for a review. I’m also too lazy to go search through Amazon records or emails to figure it out. Good reviews are good reviews, right?

It starts off with a woman kidnapped off the street. She’s tossed into a room of cells, each occupied by a serial killer. Cell doors open at random, they have themed murder events, and they get cupcakes and bacon. Someone, Evie ends up under the protection (sort of) of the bad-ass-iest of the killers. While she’s fighting for her life, a doofus detective is searching for her, half in love with who he thinks she might be. By sheer luck, he stumbles on her whereabouts, just as she’s making a run for it.

Chaos ensues.

At first I wasn’t too sure how the book was going to go. Was this some serious, hack and slash novel? It took a few chapters for Evie to stop crying and start slashing. I thoroughly enjoyed the serial-killers personalities and their interactions. I wish more had happened with Andrew. He would have made a perfect sidekick.

I DEFINITELY, and absolutely insist on, MORE EVIE AND DARION.  If you don’t want to write them, McCray, I will!

Miami Spy Games: Russian Zombie Gun by Armand Rosamilia

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MSG Cover

Miami Spy Games

Armand Rosamilia

I’d like to thank our gracious host for letting me post on her blog. I’ll try to be nicer to her when she posts photos and tidbits about her cats, too… maybe.

Miami Spy Games: Russian Zombie Gun was a fun series to write, and I’m glad it has recently come out in one volume. All 12 episodes, all 90,000 words of it. All for only $3.99. I’d like to offer a sample chapter from the book, and I hope you enjoy it enough to want to read more! This is the introduction to the ACES team…

Jennifer Sanchez placed the folders neatly on the conference room table, making sure they were all set at perfect ninety degree angles to one another, as well as equidistant. She placed three pens to the right of each folder, each exactly two inches apart: red, blue and black pen, left to right.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Mike Martin said as he entered the room and sat down in his usual seat, arms folded across his chest. He never smiled, or if he did, Jennifer has never seen it. He was thirteen years her junior at twenty-eight, with a military crew cut, steely gray eyes and a chiseled body he usually hid under over-large shirts and baggy khaki pants. He was former CIA SAD and before that on The Delta Force, but that’s all Jennifer was allowed to know about him and his background. Even as office boss and team lead, there was only so much they knew about one another. For a reason.

“How are you doing today, Mike?” she asked, knowing his answer already: he would nod at her before settling back into staring at the wall in front of him, arms eternally crossed, until the rest of the team arrived and the meeting began.

The rest of the team only consisted of Mark Kostas, who was the polar opposite of Mike Martin. Kostas worked for the scientific directive of the CIA but made to many sexually charged remarks to too many females, but his talent had so far outweighed his personality. He was transferred to Jennifer’s team at its inception. The Powers That Be knew she could handle him.

He wore a tight teal Miami Dolphins T-shirt, tight blue jeans, and he smiled constantly. He placed a large coffee cup on the table, not noticing when some coffee dribbled down the side and onto the folder before him.

Jennifer cringed but remained calm. To all outward appearances she was relaxed. As cool as the other side of the pillow, she said to herself. Cool as a cucumber.

Kostas pulled his chair out and dropped into it like a teenager. He was twenty four but acted much more immature at times. He liked to play when he could, but Jennifer knew he would be all business as soon as she started the briefing. He was also the best tech guy she had ever worked with or studied. Kostas (he hated being called Mark, his last name worn like a badge of honor in the hacker community) was one of those guys who were book smart but not really street smart. He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Guess what I just got? Two tickets to the Dolphins home opener. Fifty yard line. Third row. Two hundred a piece.”

Mike stared at him. “Let me see them.”

“No way, bro.”

“Why not?”

“Because you always pee on my parade.”

“He does it to help you, and because you’re always doing something ridiculous,” Jennifer chimed in, aware the can of worms she was opening by falling into the conversation.

Kostas smiled, staring brazenly at Jennifer’s cleavage. “How are those babies doing today? Need some Kostas Time?”

“Up here or my thumbs will be the last thing your eyes see,” Jennifer said. “Es usted un idiota“, she mumbled under her breath.

“Kostas laughed but kept glancing at her chest. “Relax, baby. I know you have to play cool in front of Mikey here, but how about we hook up later tonight? You can show me around your“> Miami, if you know what I mean.” Kostas laughed and slapped the table. “Maybe I can see ” South Beach. Get it?”

“Let me see the tickets,” Mike said.

Kostas waved his hand at her and then pulled an envelope from his back pocket as he briefly stood. He threw it on the table in front of Mike, scattering the pens.

Jennifer nearly lunged to fix the items before closing her eyes.

“Are you really going to let me see them?” Mike asked with his arms still crossed.

“I trust you, bro,” Kostas said nervously. He smiled at Jennifer. “I have two tickets. I can take you, babe. After the game we’ll get a hotel nearby and the real game will begin. Get it?”

Jennifer ignored him.

Mike took his time opening the envelope and pulling the two large tickets out, his eyes on Kostas as he did so. He held them up to the fluorescent light and studied them.

“Well?” Kostas asked.

Mike glanced at him but said nothing as he turned them over and over in his hands. He finally put them neatly back in the envelope and pushed it back across the table.

“You’re killing me, bro.”

Mike looked at Jennifer. “They are fakes.”

“You lie,” Kostas said as he came out of his chair. Please tell me you are busting my balls.”

Mike shook his head. “They are decent but most people would be able to spot the fugazi seal.”

“The what?”

“Fugazi, meaning fake. Sorry, Kostas. You’ve been duped. And it looks like you’re out four hundred dollars.”

Kostas put his head down as he sat. “Damn, I paid four hundred a piece for them.”

“So you lied to me,” Mike said.

As amusing as this exchange was, they needed to get down to business. She hit the speed-dial on the central phone on the table and sat down.

“Miss Sanchez, is your team present?” a stern woman’s voice said immediately. Jennifer had only met their Langley boss once, and that was more than she wished she had. Kim L was a strong business woman from the defense private sector side of weapons manufacturing. Kim understood both business and military and how to keep everything in check between them. She’d never been military, seemed to dislike the ‘in crowd’ of military personnel, and was firmly behind the CIA’s directives, even though ACES (Asymmetrical Clandestine Elite Service) wasn’t even on the CIA or any other agency’s radar. Heck, few were aware of their existence, including Congress, the FBI, and most other counterterrorism agencies. Knowledge of this group’s existence would cause further dissention among these various agencies, already withholding intelligence from one another. Only the top twelve Super Users (top level people cleared to view all intel) were aware of this team’s existence.

“Yes. Agents Martin and Kostas are present. We can begin.”

“Excellent. Is the video monitor on?”

“Yes.” Jennifer dimmed the lights with a remote control as a fifty-inch TV screen lit up the far wall, showing a surveillance photo of two men carrying a crate between them. Several successive photos showed the men putting the crate into the back of a black van.

“These pictures were taken three days ago in the city of Valencia in the State of Carabobo, Venezuela. The crate itself measures approximately six foot long by three foot wide by two foot deep,” Kim L said from the speaker.

Jennifer clicked to the next picture, a close-up of the crate markings on the side.

“Russian,” Kostas said. “Coming from one of the one hundred twenty-five raions of Moscow.”

“The what?” Mike asked.

“Very good,” Kim said. “Yasenevo District is an administrative district, or raion, of South-Western Administrative Okrug in Moscow. We are pretty sure it emanates from there. The last two intercepts we’ve had are from that area, some of the most powerful weapons we’ve intercepted from the Russians.”

Jennifer went to the next slide, an aerial view of the Port of Miami. She pulled a red laser pointer from her pocket and lighted on a spot on the map. “We know the shipment arrives in the next twenty-four hours, and we know it is in this general location of the international docks that it will come in.”

“There’s been a slight change to that, however,” Kim L said. “We now know there is an inside man for the Russians, a security guard. He’ll be handing over the package to the Russians at Gate 7.”

Jennifer found it on the map and highlighted it with a red mark. “Here.”

Kim L continued. “You will need to intercept the Russians before they reach their destination, but not at the docks. We want to do this as quickly and quietly as possible and get the crate.”

“And the security guard?” Jennifer asked.

“Osvaldo Rivera. He doesn’t enter into this equation. Now that we know who he is, we can keep tabs on him. At this point, we have no idea how often he’s helped the Russians or what his stake is in this. He might be just a low middle man, or part of something larger. For now we put him on the watch list.”

Jennifer gave the thumbs up to Mike and Kostas. “We got this.”

The phone call disconnected without another word, making Jennifer smile. “Kim L was formal to the point of rude, parsing her words. There would be briefings where she would be silent for up to ten minutes before answering a question or after someone throwing in a ‘funny’ comment. She was all about ACES and nothing else. Jennifer didn’t know how she ultimately got the job to lead this and other teams around the country, and she didn’t care. So far, in the year Mike, Kostas and Jennifer had worked together in Miami, they’d completed every mission, gathered intelligence on dozens of Russian operatives working in and around Dade County, and done it all with complete anonymity.

“I’ll see you at the game. I’ll even buy the first round of hot dogs,” Mike said to Kostas as he left the room.

Kostas looked at Jennifer, confusion etched on his face. Then he grinned and picked up the set of tickets in the envelope on the table. Only there was just a single Miami Dolphins ticket. “He got me again.”

“It’s better than the tickets being fugazi,” Jennifer said.

“Not really. Have you ever been in a social setting with Mike Martin? He will literally sit in his seat for three hours, arms folded, taking in every player on the field. Every now and then he’ll observe something that is purely freakish, like how a linebacker is winded and is going to make a bad play, or if the offense uses a certain pass option it will be a touchdown. And when they use it and they score, he doesn’t move. Not even a smile for getting it right.”

“Sounds like he missed his calling. He should have been a football coach.”

“They’d all quit. He’d never say a word to anyone. Now that we’re alone…,” Kostas said before leaving the conference room when Jennifer turned her back to him.

Jennifer leaned against the table and stared out the window, overlooking the far runway for Miami International Airport. Her parents would be calling her any minute and she always looked forward to hearing about her hometown of Cartagena, her family members and all the excitement that came along with it. Like a typically loud Costena family.

Of course, Senor and Senora Sanchez thought their little girl (even at 41 she was always their little princesa) worked in the movie business.

The ACES offices were situated here at Magic Productions to look like another big player in the Miami movie business. With so many great tax cuts, more and more movies studios were setting up companies and testing the waters with TV shows, independent films, all in the hopes they could film a steady stream of blockbuster movies in Miami.

To the casual eye, the first two floors of Magic Productions were genuine. Crammed with cameras, lighting rigs, microphones and other high tech gear, a glimpse inside would show you a company about to create some footage. Several people worked in the ground floor offices, and they were technically in the movie business. They were lesser operatives for ACES that did the filming of dozens of Russian SVR Operatives, mob presence (which often worked together or collided on a seemingly daily basis), and anyone else they were assigned to follow, film and report on.

Jennifer turned back to the table and began writing the next assignment for those working below: Intel on the security guard Osvaldo Rivera.

If you have any questions about the Miami Spy Games series, I’d love to hear them: armandrosamilia@gmail.com

Armand Rosamilia

Miami Spy Games on Amazon Kindle only $3.99!

http://www.amazon.com/Miami-Spy-Games-Russian-ebook/dp/B00ATCH11U/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1358000900&sr=8-1&keywords=Miami+Armand

Joe Tofuri’s Lobison

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I always love seeing the final product after I create a cover for an author! This one is no exception. This is one of my favorites–I did all the work by hand with very little digital help. 

Check out Joe “Tuffy” Tofuri’s novel, Lobiso´n. It’s available on amazon here: http://www.amazon.com/Lobisón-ebook/dp/B00AK06Q58/ref=tmm_kin_title_0

Here’s the blurb: 

JACKSON KELLER spends half his lifetime hunting and killing packs of ferocious werewolf-like beasts called Lobisóns. His nemesis is the fifteen feet tall, almost two thousand pound Alpha werewolf he nicknamed POPPA – the first of the Lobisón bloodline, and their king. It was Poppa’s vicious pack that slaughtered Jackson’s Marine platoon leaving him the sole survivor.

Bent on revenge, Jackson tracks Poppa to the small town of Morgan Falls. It is there where he and a small gathering of townspeople barricade themselves within a church to defend and protect a pregnant woman’s unborn child from Poppa’s savage wrath. According to the lore of the beast, the unborn child is the last of the Alpha Lobisóns to be born and Poppa must raise the child to continue their bloodline – and the battle between man and man-beast is brutal.

As the fight rages on, Jackson finds himself face-to-face with the Lobisón king. What will it take for him to defeat the giant beast and end his reign of terror…and what will happen to the newborn Alpha Lobisón child?