Sunday, July 20, 2014

Hibernating Zombies Awaken Ravenous

Production Begins on The WRONG KIND of DEAD

I will remember this as that time in 2014 when the last of the Ramones turned up dead, and the media was really pushing the Let’s Hate the Russians meme. Humans walked on the moon for the first time 45 years ago; don’t hold your breath for anything like that to happen again. A woman I knew, who was one of only two morbidly obese people I knew in the 1980s when such people were not the norm, would be celebrating her 60th birthday today had complications from said obesity not dropped her four years ago.

Of that latter item, I’m impressed she lived as long as she did. “Healthier” people have died younger. There’s nothing complicated about a heart attack. You can have the fatty build-up in your pipes without being fat. People get these things in their 40s, whoops, surprise!

Also, I know people who are turning 60, if not this year, then the next. Sixty. Ain’t nothin’ middle-aged about that.

Ready or not, whoomp, here it is.
As yet another cool, wet week gives way to the normally relentless July sun, I begin writing the third and last novel in my zombie apocalypse series. I would have started it on Thursday but I got caught up in the surprise release of my second book. I tried to get busy with promotion but came up mostly flat. Looking at my blog posts for last week, I’ve had trouble writing, period. It’s like something got broken over the last couple of weeks. And here I am griping that I didn’t get to do a final read on Grace Among the Dead! It’s probably better I left it alone.

Besides, I pissed away an hour yesterday reading one of the more popular zombie e-books out there. It wasn’t too bad, but it could have stood for more editing than my book needs. Yet this guy gets eight 4-star reviews? Goddammit!

It’s 20% writing the goddamned thing and 80% promotion. I just pulled those numbers out of my ass, but it sure seems that way, doesn’t it? So that’s one thing to address if I want to break out of credit card debtor’s prison in time for Christmas.

Problem #2, and every bit as urgent, is my need to learn how to write a novel in far less than a year. What few fans I have waited too damned long for Grace Among the Dead

This is the part where I set arbitrary deadlines for myself which I will in no way meet. Never mind that. All I can do is put myself to work, and work as fast and as hard as I can. I’ve got a plan this time, more detailed than any mere outline. All I have to do is connect the dots.

They’re not nearly this pretty, either.
“Love Bites” Copyright © 2014 by Matt Dixon
Enjoy your Sunday. I’ve got to make one and one-half pages into a full chapter by bedtime. (Dammit, did I just set a deadline? Right.) The zombies at this point in the saga have been hibernating over the winter (residual bodily fluids freeze and seize the limbs of the dead, especially in Colorado Springs) and have awoken crazy hungry. They will fling themselves to pieces coming at you. And then another visitor appears, and in Chapter 2 he will present a message of hope—and a warning.

For Derek and Agnes and Elyssa and Brother Christopher and the whole merry crew, The Wrong Kind of Dead will be a worlds-shattering experience. All of human civilization will hang in the balance of the final conflict. And that’s all I can say about it other than I’m excited to be back in the post-apocalyptic world of Derek Samuel Grace. The “saga” in my series title will no longer be ironic by the time I’m done. Hell, in this first page and a half I’ve got here, you already know things aren’t right.

Tommy Ramone is dead. Cormac McCarthy is celebrating his 81st birthday. Nobody knows who shot down that passenger jet with all those children on board (so many children!) but the Propaganda Ministry is damned sure it’s those dirty mean Russians, yes, it had to be them! It’s 84 degrees at 9:10 a.m. MDT and I have to buzz by Costco for eggs and cat litter sometime before it closes at 5.

My last cup of coffee is done. It’s hero time.