Tonight’s dinner: smoked meat, taro leaves and rice.
Free Audiobook…How about a contest?
No really. I’ve got codes. And Sloe Ride should be coming out soon. Yes. SOON! *eyes Audible*
So to celebrate Quinn and Rafe finally getting a voice, I’m going to be dumping a couple of audiobook codes into a magic hat and the first two names I pull out of it on Halloween will receive a code good for one audiobook on Audible.
Now, I’d like to point you to my fabulous narrators Greg Tremblay and Tristan James for your selecting pleasure so keep them in mind. These codes will be good for any audio book. Not just mine.
What to do to win? Just leave a comment below about the best Halloween costume you’d like to wear or have worn in the past.
Easy as pie. Well not really because pie is a fucking bitch to make. Easy as a glass of water. If you live in a first world country. Easy as dirt. DIRT! and BUGS!
Sheesh. Just leave a comment if you wanna win.
Fish Stick Fridays Excerpt.
How about a little bit of Fish Stick Fridays to start off your Monday?
Half Moon Bay woke to a veil of gray and wet, the air thick with fog and a pounding cold rain a degree away from hail. The drops sliced at Lang’s face as he ran from his parking spot to his shop, cursing himself for not taking one of the spaces in front of Between the Lines.
“Customers.” A vicious snap at his cheek made him flinch, and Lang juggled his messenger bag around, tugging his jacket’s hood down. “Spaces for customers.” None of whom were there at eight in the morning and probably would be in their right minds if they stayed home altogether.
The wind carried more than the cold with it. A taint of salt and spoil ran along its edges, carried up from the shore. With the wet came the rot, decomposing leaves and grasses piling up until they grew hot from the decay. The rain broke through composts and brush, a frigid hand scraping back the dank until the grungy smell carried through the streets.
It was early, too early for most people to be out, but there was already a light on over at the auto shop. Shaking out his jacket, Lang spotted a sheriff’s car and two dusty vans parked to the side of the building, their windows misted nearly opaque. From where Lang stood, there was no sign of that day’s violence except for the shops’ boarded-up windows and a few specks of glass tumbling around in the gutter’s flow. Deacon’s truck sat close to the field, its camper top a dull beige as the torrential downpour scraped the dust from its paint.
It’d been two days since their ride to the coast and back ended in tragedy, and the air still felt heavy with confusion and regrets. There was no blood on the asphalt, no piercing screams bouncing off of the surrounding wood and brick walls. Picked clean, the whole cul-de-sac seemed more an eerie ghostly backdrop than an actual crime scene, but Lang’s nerves knew differently. He could still see Eli lying broken apart in Abe’s terrified embrace, and there were echoes of booming pops in his ear, the smell of blood steeped into his mind and senses.
When he looked up, Lang’s day went from dreary to full-out shit when he saw Deacon limp out of the auto shop and stand in the chilling rain. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed, weariness hanging on his shoulders. He looked bruised and worn, beaten up by the past few days.
Angled with one end farther from the rest of the businesses, the auto shop had been a later addition and set up by its original owner, Lang’s great-grandfather, a Chinese-born immigrant who’d not wanted the street’s bad luck to flow into his shops. As a result, the end unit was a slanted jog off of the main building, the end cap of a long L, practically spread open for everyone to see inside if the bay doors were open.
They were all open now, rolled-back shutters laying Deacon’s life out for everyone to see. There were people inside the shop, pacing shadowy forms picking at bricks and the floor. A grim-faced cop stood a few feet away from the spot Deacon’d shoved Lang and Zig to keep them out of the shooter’s sight.
Seeing how open and vulnerable the space was, it struck Lang how close they’d come to dying.
Fish Stick Fridays is being released by Dreamspinner Press on November 30.
Blurb:
Deacon Reid was born bad to the bone with no intention of changing. A lifetime of law-bending and living on the edge suited him just fine—until his baby sister died and he found himself raising her little girl.
Staring down a family history of bad decisions and reaped consequences, Deacon cashes in everything he owns, purchases an auto shop in Half Moon Bay, and takes his niece, Zig, far away from the drug dens and murderous streets they grew up on. Zig deserves a better life than what he had, and Deacon is determined to give it to her.
Lang Harris is stunned when Zig, a little girl in combat boots and a purple tutu blows into his bookstore, and then he’s left speechless when her uncle, Deacon Reid walks in, hot on her heels. Lang always played it safe but Deacon tempts him to step over the line… just a little bit.
More than a little bit. And Lang is willing to be tempted.
Unfortunately, Zig isn’t the only bit of chaos dropped into Half Moon Bay. Violence and death strikes leaving Deacon scrambling to fight off a killer before he loses not only Zig but Lang too.
So Coooool.
Swing Riot Invitational Battle Part 3 – Crossover & Finale – Montreal Swing Riot 2015
Formerly known as Lindy Hoppers vs Street Dancers, this is part 3 of the Invitational Battle Vintage vs. Modern Street Dancers at Montreal Swing Riot, bringing together swing, jazz, soul, funk and the break beats in one epic battle: http://montrealswingriot.com
VAST is on SALE!
Download the entire VAST catalogue for only $29.95!
http://www.realvastshop.com/collections/downloads/products/the-vast-collection
I know… I sound like an ad. But wait, there’s more…
VAST is a glorious melange of music. I wrote a shit ton of Sinner’s Gin to Visual Audio Sensory Theater and many of my subsequent books have been written with one VAST album or another playing as I typed.
I gave a shout out to VAST in Murder and Mayhem’s acknowledgements because so much of the delicate steel girder beauty of VAST’s music resonates and tickles my muse. I cannot imagine writing without having the lace grit of this music behind me.
If you’ve not heard of VAST, then prepare to be amazed. If you do not own VAST, then by all that is holy and coffee, go do so. Your life cannot be complete without this artistry. These albums are a pure craftsmanship of sound and lyric.
And yes, Visual Audio Sensory Theater is my favourite but it’s all just so damned fricking good.
Saturday
Before I begin writing for the day, I wanted to stop by.
The cat woke me up at oh dark thirty for his insulin shot. Okay so he woke me up for his chicken that he gets after his shot but we’re going for the delusion of him knowing he needs his insulin. I was going to say that he only really comes by for the food but the asshole JUST proved me a liar by coming by for a head scritch as I was writing this.
Asshole cat.
It’s funny how the number of views to the blog dropped following the lack of nekkid men and in the increase of actual blog content.
I am going to be in Austin come April 2016. Going to see if we can find a bookstore or coffee shop place to host us as we gather. I’ll bring swag or something. I’ll let you all know the when and wheres.
Monday will have a Fish Stick Fridays excerpt. Wooooot! I’m really looking forward to that book coming out. It was so much fun to write. And agonizing. Kids are difficult to write.
Whatcha all up to this Saturday? We’d hoped for rain. God once again denies us.
Seriously….
Mad life skills.
I can’t even walk in low wedges without breaking an ankle.
WTF is Fish Stick Fridays?
In about a month, Fish Stick Fridays will be released. I’ve not talked a lot about this book mainly because I’ve just not had the time but as we circle closer in, I should be chatting it up.
First things first, it is not a Hellsinger book nor is it about Catholics. That seems to be the common thread of questions. The next Hellsinger book is “Send In The Ghosts” and will be out next year. And I’m struggling to remember if I even mention Catholicism in the book at all. Which I don’t think so but you never know.
What I do mention…or rather write about… is a little girl.
You see, Fish Stick Fridays is about a man who has lived most of his life on the wrong side of the law and now has to do right by his dead sister’s little girl. Deacon doesn’t know anything about children. He had no intention of ever having kids—practically a sure bet when you’re a gay guy—but he ended up with Zig, a little girl who spent quite a bit of time in the foster care system before Deacon was awarded custody. It was a long fight to get custody of Zig because who in their right mind would hand over a little girl to an ex-con?
I wanted to challenge myself a bit. Writing a child into a book…writing an actual child into a book… was tricky. I drew on friends’ kids for a reality check as well as the oh-so-huge family I belong to. While my immediate family is average sized by most standards, we’re practically extinct compared to the rest of the brood. I also drew on my years as a juvie counselor for a teen halfway house for inspiration. Zig needed to be a little girl but a street worn little girl. She grew up on the edge of Compton with a mother who loved her but didn’t necessarily make the best life decisions. Since that’s where Deacon came from as well, it’s something he understands and can relate to Zig’s POV.
But he also wants better for her.
Deacon was a great character to write. The balance between his bad boy instincts and doing the right thing by his niece was a fantastic thing to explore. I tried to make Zig as real of a kid as possible. She loves to read but let’s face it, she grew up in the system and it shows. Deacon isn’t a guy who is going to be able to provide her with a white picket fence lifestyle because he has no fucking idea how to do that.
Even when he falls for a guy who was born and raised behind a white picket fence.
Lang is everything Deacon is not. Moneyed, educated and a little reserved, Lang doesn’t quite know what hit him when Zig stomps into his shop. And while he certainly knows what he’d like to do with Deacon who is hot on Zig’s heels, Lang isn’t a want-take-have kind of guy.
For the most part this book is about balance… well around the murdery bits but still, balance. It’s about Deacon creating a normal life out of the nothing he was given and Lang taking a chance on a whirlwind of leather jackets, motorcycles and dimples that walked into his life.
Oh and about the title… Fish Stick Fridays is about the ONE day of the week where Zig (and Deacon) doesn’t have to eat her veggies. On Fridays, it is fish sticks and mac & cheese for dinner. A bit of comfort food in the middle of a whirlwind of life.
I have No Idea what Day it is.
Seriously. Someone clue me in.
I have to process the GRL video. I am looking forward to seeing it. Mostly, I am looking forward to finding my camera in the mess that is GRL swag.
Greg Tremblay rocks. Hands down. He totally kicked ass at the readings and he pwned Mary Calmes’ and Jaime Samms’ pieces as well as mine. Everyone had a great time on the Korean Food Fest… or so I was told. Our tiny excursion of 45 and more people to Zion Food Court then to Big Joy Family Bakery. I seriously need to find that camera. I hope we got the recordings.
Now on to scraping my brain for a book. Need to get back into the groove as it were. Some groove. Any groove.
Here’s a dog in an elephant costume.
Um… Title
Hello all!
I am still in recovery from GRL. My body and brain are dead tired but it’s time to get back onto the horse again. Well, at least get back on the Mustang. Because yes, time to get Kai into full gear.
I need to do a post mortem about GRL…and see if the recordings of Greg doing his readings of Jaime Samms, Mary Calmes and my work turned out. I hope they did because if so, then I’ll be loading them up for people to listen to. He did such a fantastic job and it was a pleasure to be there to experience his talent live and in such an intimate environment. As well as sharing that experience with 50 other GRL attendees. So so lovely.
Honestly, I feel like I’m sun drunk. It’s kind of like that every year. We all depart, crying and sad because really and truly, GRL is a long weekend slumber party of the bestest of people.
But reality comes back quickly. And harsh.
The Firebird’s brakes went spongy on Sunday much to my swearing and growling. So into the shop he went. Sighs. Poor baby.
This week is going to be a lot of coffee and sleeplessness.
Whatcha all up to?
Rhys Ford 