Category: Uncategorized

Just a quick note to keep everyone know that all three of my books are currently #free to download from Amazon through Friday. Make sure you take advantage while it lasts!

Find them here: https://t.co/EERGIdVvv2

Many of you probably know that I’m going back to school for a second degree, this time in Mechanical Design. Working full time, and going to school full time doesn’t leave a lot of extra time for other things, which is why I haven’t updated here lately, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been doing anything else. I’ve had to slow down my guitar building, but I’ve still managed to finish a couple custom requests and a couple extra guitars for my online store. They’re still selling pretty well, at an average of 2 a month, but I have far more ideas for builds than I can currently work on, which can be a little aggravating. Here are a couple of the recent builds:

In addition to the guitar building, I’ve also been writing. Not nearly as much as I would like, but I’m happy just to be able to write. I’ve mainly been working on the sequel to My Life As Death as well as the sequel to The Consciousness Puzzle. Both are coming along nicely but I have no idea when either will be done.

Next week is my final week of this semester, though, so I hope to be able to focus even more time on writing, and possibly guitar building in the near future, so I also hope to be updating this blog more frequently.

I still haven’t had a chance to work on the cover any more, but I’m happy enough with how it is right now.
For those who haven’t already read them, you can find links to the previous chapters here:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

Shawna seemed to avoid us for the rest of the day, but with our schedule that wouldn’t have been very hard. And though I was keeping an eye out for her in the parking lot after the final bell rang, I still didn’t see her.

“She’s probably just staying after with some study group or something,” Weed said as he noticed my wandering eyes.

“Probably,” I replied, slipping on my helmet.

“Don’t worry about her; she’ll be fine.”

The ride to Finkenbine’s salvage yard was some much needed freedom after being stuck in classrooms all day, but following Weed in the Weed Wagon did put a little damper on things. While his Chevette was much faster than it appeared, the mail truck was not. I’d never really noticed how slow it was until I was stuck behind him waiting for it to get up to speed. When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I kicked the bike down a gear, twisted the throttle and blew past him like he was standing still. I’m pretty sure he gave me the one finger salute as I flew by.

It didn’t take long for me to reach Finkenbine’s place, but Weed was still far behind so I kept going, enjoying the empty road for a few more miles while making my way to the old quarry before turning around and heading back. Even with my little detour I made it back to the salvage yard before Weed, though he pulled up just as Finkenbine and dumbass came out to greet us.

“Not cool,” he said, emerging from the truck as I slid off my helmet, my grin clearly showing. “But that’s actually why we’re here.”

“Other than living up to your end of the deal?” Finkenbine asked, his hearing surprisingly better than I’d expected.

“Of course we’re here so you can check out KZ,” Weed explained, “But I also think it’s time to add a little pep to the truck.”

“After we’re finished with Pamela, right?” I asked, feeling my face get a little red.

“Of course, of course…”

“So the KZ, then Pamela, the Ventura, right?”

“Right,”

“…Then the mail truck. You’ve got quite a bit going on.”

“You know what they say about idle hands,” Weed said.

“We really don’t want to know what you do with your idle hands,” I replied, before I could stop myself.

Finkenbine just stared for a second, then burst out laughing; a roaring heartfelt laugh that made you just want to join in.

“I knew I liked you kid,” he said, directing his attention back to me, “and we’ll get to the truck, but first thing’s first.”

I felt like a little kid, getting judged on a science fair project as he bent close to checkout every piece.

“You probably need a bit more lube on the chain and the rear shocks could probably be adjusted a little to make it easier for you to flat-foot it, but otherwise everything seems to be in order.”

I literally breathed a sigh of relief.

“She sounded really good too,” he continued. “I knew it was her the first time you went past. Decided to take the scenic route, didn’t you?”

“I got stuck behind some slow moving traffic so I needed a few extra miles of open roads to truly enjoy the ride before I stopped.”

I could feel Weed’s glare.

“Well then, let’s see what we can do about that slow moving traffic?” Finkenbine grinned as he motioned to Weed. “What’d you have in mind?”

“It’s still pretty original so anything would help, but I don’t think a turbo would do that much.”

“Not if that’s still the 2.5l i-4 tbi iron duke engine. Those things really hate the high RPMs you’d need for a turbo.”

“So then I was thinking about doing an engine swap, something a little unusual.”

“Like?”

“Like a 3.0L Mercruiser.” Weed said with a grin. “I wasn’t sure what exactly he was talking about because I’d never heard of a Mercruiser.

“A boat engine?” Finkenbine said, his grin beginning to match Weed’s. “I like it.”

“You’re going to make that thing faster by putting a boat engine in it?” I asked. “And you think I’m nuts.”

“You are nuts,” Weed replied, “but that’s beside the point. The 3.0L Mercruiser is about double the horsepower and should practically bolt right in.”

“And being a boat engine,” Finkenbine continued, “means it has a more robust crank that is designed to operate under full load for a long time.”

“If it’ll help that thing go faster, then I’m all for it,” I said.

“Good,” Weed said, “I’m going to hold you to that once we get Pamela fixed up and out of the garage.”

“Now the only question,” Weed continued as he turned to Finkenbine. “Do you think you’ve got one?”

“Let me check my database,” he replied, lighting up a cigarette. “Ah, yes. Southeast side of the yard, almost to the very back.”

I couldn’t tell if he was serious or just pulling our legs.

“I’d help you,” Finkenbine said, “but I think you two can handle it. And besides, I’ve got to answer the phone.”

Weed and I looked at each other, neither of us hearing the phone, but just as I was about to say something I heard a faint ringing coming from the trailer. Finkenbine was already heading that way so Weed and I just went towards the gate leading to the salvage yard.

The sun wasn’t really close to setting yet but the junk yard looked darker than it should have, like perpetual twilight. It might have just been the stacks of junk limiting the amount of sunlight that actually reached us, but I couldn’t say for sure; it just felt creepy.

“This way,” Weed said suddenly, causing me to jump. 

“I thought he said southeast.”

“He did, but I saw something last time we were here that I wanted to check out.”

“I don’t know,” I replied, “he may not want us just roaming around, and I really don’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Don’t worry about that, we’ll just be taking a slight detour.”

I really didn’t want to be wandering around the piles of junk by myself, so reluctantly I followed Weed as he took off down an aisle running parallel to the back of Finkenbine’s trailer.

“I thought so,” Weed said, stopping at the end of the lane where a car was stashed, mostly covered by an old tarp. Only the headlights and a small portion of the grill were visible, but apparently that was enough for Weed to recognize it. All I could tell was it was a little bigger than your standard car, and from the looks of the headlights it was really old.

“This is so cool,” he continued as he bent down to get a better look under the tarp.

“Cooler than you even know,” Finkenbine said from right behind us.

We both jumped, and turned to face him, expecting him to look a lot more angry than he did. Instead, he looked a bit proud and even a little sad.

“‘47 Buick Roadmaster, right?” Weed asked, obviously trying to get back into his good graces.

“Close, it’s a ‘48…the ’48, or at least the only one that matters; Mort.”

“You named a car Mort?” I asked, a little confused by the less than badass name I would have expected.

“I didn’t name it…” Finkenbine started to explain before Weed cut it.

“You’re not saying that this is the Mortimer Hearseburg, are you.”

“The one and only,” Finkenbine beamed, the sadness fading slightly for a moment.

“I don’t get it,” I blurted out before I could stop myself from looking stupid.

 “Mortimer Hearseburg is what Neil Young named his first car, a 1948 Buick Roadmaster. The song “Long May You Run” was written about this car. But it broke down in Canada in 1965,” Weed continued, turning to Finkenbine, “How’d you end up with it?”

“That’s a story for another time. Right now we’ve got to get you that engine,” He said, directing us back towards the southeast end of the junkyard. “Then, for sticking your noses where they don’t belong, you can help me get Mort cleaned up.”

With Finkenbine’s help it took no time to get the Weed Wagon’s new engine loaded up. Then we followed him back to the hearse and helped him remove the tarp. For being older than dirt, it was in amazing condition, and when Finkenbine turned the key it fired right up. At his direction we climbed in, enjoying the smooth ride as he guided it through the piles of junk and to the front drive, parking it right in front of the trailer. Neither Weed nor I had ever been inside a hearse before, let alone one so vintage. It was so interesting that we were still checking out all the little details when Finkenbine returned, dropping a couple pails of soapy water beside us.

“I need this thing parade ready,” he said.

“Where’s the parade?” I asked, absentmindedly as I grabbed a sponge and started washing.

“Over in Southview, from the Dogtown Pub to the cemetery.”

Weed and I both stopped washing instantly.

“Cemetery?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“A friend had a little accident last night, that’s what the phone call was about.”

Weed and I just looked at each other for a second.

“I’m sorry…,” I started, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“To tell the truth, he was an asshole who probably didn’t deserve to live as long as he had, but whenever a two-wheeled brother goes down I like to break out Mort for their last ride.”

My heart sank, and my mouth went dry. I felt both flooded with emotion and numb at the same time. Weed just kept staring at me with his jaw on the ground.

“There’s a big ride the day of the funeral, I’m sure you’d be more than welcome to join on your KZ if you want.”

“Thanks for the offer,” I managed to say, though I couldn’t bring myself to look at him as I did.

Weed and I took a little longer than we should have, cleaning up the hearse, but neither one of us said a word as we did. I felt him looking at me a few times but whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t. And that was probably for the best.

My teen years took place in the 90’s, and My Life As Death has a lot of me in it, so it only makes sense that it would take place in the 90’s as well. I knew this from the very beginning but I didn’t realize how important it would be until recently.

I’ve been working on MLAD for a while now, and never really had a problem with writer’s block until a few days ago. I sat down to write, and had a scene envisioned in my head, but I just couldn’t write it. The scene was about the main character and his best friend (both high school seniors) out on a Saturday night so it should have been something easy enough for me to whip through but I just wasn’t feeling it. I thought about stepping away, but instead I decided to turn to Amazon music.

I started by pulling up the obvious Pearl Jam, STP and Nirvana, along with Green Day and Blink-182 but then I switched to a “Rediscover the 90’s” playlist and then to another one. Each song led me deeper and deeper into the memory hole. Before long I was listening to Skinyard, L7 and Gruntruck. There was also plenty of Collective Soul, AIC, Soundgarden, and Chili Peppers. Every song brought back so many memories and feelings that I was instantly able to continue writing.

I’ve always used music to motivate me while doing anything; writing, working out, running or even just doing the dishes, but this was the first time I used it to bring about senses and feelings from a particular time in my life. It worked surprisingly well, so I thought I’d share some of the nostalgia. You can find my 90’s Rock and Grunge playlist HERE.

As things started to settle in with the new factory job I really expected to be able to once again focus on my writing. Unfortunately life had other plans. Because the factory had a union, and they were shutting down operations at the other end of the plant, I was going to be bumped from my position. This meant a different job and different hours so I decided it was time to move on.

Thankfully I was able to find a new job within a week, and it’s a much cleaner environment, but it’s still a lot of hours and a lot of walking so I’m not nearly as energetic as I hoped to be at night. And while I have managed to get some writing done, it’s not been as much as I really wanted, though I do expect that to change shortly.

I’m finishing up three guitar builds this week, and I’m not currently taking any new orders, so I should have more time and energy to finish up a few projects around the house and also get more writing done. My goal is to have “My Life As Death” and possibly even “Zero Sum” completed before I start back to school for a second degree.

With everything that has happened this year I came to realize that I want to pursue a Mechanical Design Engineering degree. A nearby college offers the program so I decided now was the time to go after it. I’m sure it will slow down my writing and my guitar building but I’m also sure that it’ll be worth it in the end.

The writing is going very well, and I can’t wait to share “My Life As Death” with everyone. I didn’t know what to expect when I started writing it, but it has turned into something I never could have planned; probably because I didn’t plan it at all. I just started with an idea about a teenage Grim Reaper and I let the story lead the way. But early on in the writing of it, I knew this would be my best shot at going the traditional publishing route.

I knew absolutely nothing about publishing when I began writing; I just had a story to write. But as I continued writing, I began looking into the various publishing options. This was around 2011-2012 when the Amazon Kindle and independent publishing was just starting to get big. Writers like Amanda Hocking and Hugh Howey were becoming some of the first “Kindle Millionaires”, and even traditionally published authors like Joe Konrath and Dean Wesley Smith were sharing their advice on forgoing the traditional route. I read everything I could on the subject, and when The Dark Genesis of Daniel James was ready, I went the indie route.

Going the indie route was the right decision with Dark Genesis. As my first book, I was very unsure of myself and I very much wanted to have complete control over the entire thing; it was my baby. I don’t think I would have done well with the submission process, let alone the editorial / revision process if it had actually been accepted by an agent or publisher. Most likely, that book would have been my last.

23 Hours, at around 20,000 words was an awkward length to try to get published anywhere, so traditional publishing it wasn’t really an option. Trad publishing might have been worth considering for The Consciousness Puzzle, but as much as I enjoy the book, and especially the main character, there really is nothing that makes it stand out from the sea of action/adventure fiction already available out there; I just wrote what I wanted to read. Having TCP as my debut (trad published) novel would have probably been the end of my trad publishing career.

So that brings us back to My Life As Death. After 8 years of writing I’ve definitely matured as an author, and I like to think I’ve gotten quite a bit better. I also think that story and the characters in MLAD are the best I’ve written. They’re a bit unique, a little deep, and extremely entertaining (at least to me). I think it’s the perfect book for me to be able to get an agent and a traditional publishing deal, so that’s been the plan, until I read this article by Dean Wesley Smith.

The monetary breakdown wasn’t anything new to me. I’ve read this sort of math before, but seeing it again made me question if I still wanted to pursue the traditional route. It wasn’t just the money aspect though, it also reminded me what sort of time frame I’m looking at from the traditional path.

Yesterday I started writing the first draft of my query letter. I’m sure I’ll write several more versions before I’m content with it. Then I have to write a synopsis of the book. Then I have to research probably 100+ agents so I can identify a couple dozen I will query. Then, as far as this book goes, all I can do is wait. And even if by some chance I get an agent to agree to represent me, we have to try to get a publishing company interested. That alone is a huge battle, but even if it’s one we eventually win, there will be rounds of edits followed by production concerns, etc… to further push out the actual publishing. This means it could be (and most likely would be) years before the final book is available. This is what really has me reconsidering the Traditional vs Indie route.

I want to get this book in front of people. I want to share it with readers everywhere, as quickly as possible, and I know publishing through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Draft 2 Digital, etc… would allow me to get it out there the quickest. I also know that I suck at advertising and marketing my books. A traditional publishing deal doesn’t guarantee my book would be marketed any better, but it gives it a better chance to be marketed by someone who knows what they’re doing.

So that’s my dilemma, “Traditional or Indie?” What are your thought?