Superpowered

If you could have any superpower, what would it be? This question is harder than you’d think to answer, because there are so many possibilities. The Dolls have considered their limitations as mere mortals, and we all have a power we’d love to claim, even for a little while:

Steve: The ability to change people’s minds in internet arguments. I realise that’s very fantastical, but indulge me.

Renee: Time travel and/or immortality. I can’t make up my mind. It’d be nice to have both. Although, if you can travel through time, isn’t that a sort of immortality? I guess it depends on the rules of the time travel ability, right? I don’t know. Let’s go with immortality. I’m pretty clumsy and I’m sure my death will be the result of some stupid and/or embarrassing thing that could’ve been avoided. With immortality, I can’t hurt myself too badly.

Katrina: ENDLESS ENERGY. I’m sitting here chugging a Redbull as we speak. GIVE ME WINGS.

Peter: The ability to slow time down so that I could get more done! With the magazine that I put together each month, and Boxes of Blood (horror paperback delivery service), as well as promoting my own work and a huge stack of books to read, there is little time for writing.

Michael: Extreme longevity in peak physical fitness so I could do more things.

Christian: I’d like the ability to travel through time, please. Would that be considered a superpower? It would be much more useful than being invisible or some shit. Imagine the famous historical mysteries I could solve! I’d unmask Jack the Ripper, find out who really killed JFK, and invest all my money in Microsoft.

What about you guys? Any superpowers you’d be stoked to have? What about shitty ones? Are there any you’d think would be more of a burden than a gift?

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Flame Wars

By C.M. Saunders

I’ve had a few interesting experiences recently. My life is full of interesting experiences. I seem to attract them. But these particular interesting experiences involved social media. Wow. What a strange world we’ve created. Sometimes, it’s a free-for-all. Other times it’s worse.

A couple of weeks ago, a guy sent me a friend request on Facebook, closely followed by a copy-and-pasted ‘Please fund my Kickstarter’ message. He was trying to raise funds to make a horror movie. I replied, saying I would be happy to support him, if he would support me in return. If he would be so kind as to buy one of my books, I would make a donation to his Kickstarter scheme. Seems like a fair deal, right?

You know what he did? He blocked me.

Even Kickstarter guy couldn’t match another dude I ran into recently for pure assholery This guy claimed to be a ‘Hollywood Celebrity.’ I messaged him, out of genuine interest, and asked how he won this celebrity status. In all fairness, he took time out of his busy superstar schedule to respond with a chirpy, ‘Hard work, motherfucker!’

I replied with, ‘What work is that?’ Quite reasonable, I thought. I wanted to get to know my new celebrity friend. Yup, that sucker blocked me, too.

I HATE it when people block me. I rarely feel strongly enough to block others. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a universal rule. Some blockings are completely justified. Like the fake profiles fronted up by stolen pics of babes in bikinis that just want to spam your page with ads for sunglasses, or the ridiculously attractive Filipino girls who want you to send them money for a new phone. You can also add angry exes, potential sex offenders, terrorists, asylum seekers, and assorted gold diggers and career criminals to that list. But the truth is, it’s rarely so dramatic. Most blockings result from trivial online disagreements.

For example, you might be involved in one of those ridiculous group chats at two in the morning discussing the merits (or not) of Metallica’s new album, when someone disagrees with something you say and instantly hits the block button. That really gets my goat. It’s the equivalent of farting and leaving the room. What would happen if we all just blocked everyone who had a different opinion to us? Our narrow online world would soon be populated by a bunch of people who all think the same way we do. Our online world would become an echo chamber. And how boring would that be?

It’s a sad indictment of the human condition that most people just want to hear empty platitudes. They want their ego stroked. They want you to agree with them.

They want validation.

What they DON’T want is to be challenged. Some do, obviously. That’s why they actively seek out controversial topics and discussions and say ridiculous things, just to get a reaction. But the vast majority just want people to agree with them. Say how they are right, and everyone else is wrong.

Well, here’s an idea. How about us, as a race, manning the fuck up? If someone doesn’t agree with you, stand and fight your ground, put your ideas and opinion across in a calm, rational manner. Help the other person see things the way you do. Don’t just go crying off like a little gutless little prick. That’s weak.

Some people jealously guard their Facebook page, as if anyone actually cares what they say on it. They keep their ‘friends’ to a minimum and have rules like, ‘If I don’t know you in real life, I don’t want to know you on FB.’

That’s understandable. But it’s not how I roll. My Facebook page is a free-for-all. An open window into my life. Being a struggling indie writer (we’re all struggling) I need the exposure, so the more ‘friends’ I have and the more interaction I can promote, the better. It’s an integral part of my platform. I also move around a lot. I’ve lived in eight cities in three countries over the past decade or so. Facebook makes it easy to stay in touch with people who would otherwise disappear from my life. So yeah, my Facebook page is utter carnage.

One of my pet hates is people coming on to one of my social media profiles and telling me off. My pages are my domain, you may as well run in my house and yell at me. Not cool. The Brexit debacle of 2016, closely followed by the American election, prompted a whole new level of Internet assholery. One acquaintance wrote ‘Get a better brain, get better friends,’ on my wall then promptly unfriended me. I messaged him to ask what his problem was, and apparently my crime was ‘liking’ something he didn’t approve of. I shit you not.

In the resultant fallout from Brexit, I was called things I’d never been called before. Right wing thug, fascist, Nazi sympathiser.

The problem stemmed from the fact that at the time I had a red dragon as my cover picture on my Facebook page, because Wales were doing well at the Euros (it’s a football tournament). Some people decided that because I had a dragon on my page, I must be a racist. What’s gone so wrong with society that people confuse national pride with racism? When you take these accusers to task, they try to show their superior intellect by nit-picking. In one conversation I misplaced an apostrophe, in another I used the common abbreviation ‘U’ instead of ‘you.’ Both were jumped upon with great delight, as if that was the only thing that could justify their argument. MISPLACED APOSTROPHE? HA! YOU MUST BE A THICK RACIST!!

Not really, mate.

Block.

The saddest and most ironic thing of all was that these ‘Remainers’ who supposedly pride themselves on a liberal attitude and racial tolerance made a snap judgement based on a picture. That isn’t very tolerant. They believed what they WANTED to believe. They wanted to assume the moral high ground and label me a ‘Leaver’ and, by extension, right-wing fascist scum. The truth is, I didn’t even vote to leave. Okay, I didn’t vote to remain, either. I was one of the apathetic 27.3% who couldn’t be arsed to vote at all.

More recently, I made a tongue-in-cheek comment on a friend’s status, about him posting too many statuses, and one of his friends told me to go and kill myself.

Harsh.

And another block. I don’t need the hostility.

So what’s the takeaway from all this? Use social networks as tools, not weapons, and don’t be dicks.

That is all.

 

61yusXRXjwLX3, the third collection of fiction by C.M. Saunders featuring revised versions of stories taken from the pages of The Literary Hatchet, Siren’s Call, Morpheus Tales, Gore Magazine, Indie Writer’s Review and several anthologies, is available now. X3 also includes two previously unpublished stories, extensive notes, and exclusive artwork by the award-winning Greg Chapman. 

Meet the airline passenger who makes an alarming discovery, the boy who takes on an evil troll, an ageing couple facing the apocalypse, a jaded music hack on the trail of the Next Big Thing, the gambler taking one last spin, and many more.

 

Take Us Away

Christian had this idea that you guys might enjoy knowing a few of our favorite things. Maybe he was wrong, but we’re going to tell you anyway. Since it’s summer, when most people embark on holidays and gloriously awful family vacations, let’s all share our favorite holiday destination. Personally, I can’t afford a holiday, but let’s play along just the same.

Katrina: Hahahahahahahaha. Vacation? You’re hilarious.

Here’s a holiday destination for you: My living room, after the children have gone to bed, with a glass of bourbon sweating on the coffee table and something mind-numbing on the TV. Heaven.

Tony: Mountains. We like a good couple of days to day-hike and stay in a cabin with a view. Our current number one spot to visit next is the redwoods in California.

Liam: This one is easy… Okracoke Island North Carolina. Specifically, Howard’s Pub. The place isn’t what it was back when Buffy Warner, the original owner, was alive, but I still love the place. I will carry so many good memories of that most delightful spot for the rest of my life.

Peter: There are plenty of places I’d like to go, of course, but camping is a favourite. We go at least once a year and have a week in a field with food, drinks, and books. It’s also a great time to get some writing done (if you’ve read my story ‘21’ you may not want to go camping any time soon, though).

Christian: London is a great place to visit. Not such a great place to live, with all the noise, pollution, inflated prices and danger. I spent a long time in China, so I’m going to go for Pingyao, a little ancient village in Shanxi province not too far (in China terms) from Beijing. Most of the big cities in China have been modernised, which is probably a good thing, Pingyao hasn’t. It’s like walking through a film set. The whole place has a massive wall built around it, cars are mostly banned, and the local delicacy is Pingyao beef, which is a bit like corned beef. There’s even a beef museum there. A beef museum!

Renee: I don’t go on holiday, so I guess my favorite destination is right here at home. I’d love to go camping as often as I did as a kid. We’re in “cottage country” so there are a ton of great spots, some of which aren’t too touristy. But it doesn’t really matter where I go, as long as it’s quiet and relatively mosquito free. I’d rather avoid bears too.

You know what? I’ve never been to the Maritimes, but that’s on my bucket list, so while I’m not sure if it’ll be my favorite destination once I’ve gone, I’ll say it’s number one right now.

Mike: I’ve been lucky. Not everyone has walked down the Grand Canyon, and walked up again. More people have visited Pompeii, which is magical in a different way. There you swim through heat and stone into a deeper past. I’m usually not a fan of revisiting places, but Pompeii and America in general would tempt me. America especially. From early childhood I’ve fantasised about the early days of the ‘Wild West’. A lot of Liverpool kids did, to the extent of playing cowboys and Indians wearing World War II gasmasks found abandoned on railway sidings.  But first things first. The holiday destination this year is a cruise. Not because I’ve joined the pink jumper and cavalry twill brigade, fox trotting on giant floating cities. My dad was a Chief Officer in the Merchant Navy, and at fifteen I trained to become a ship’s cook intending to follow in his footsteps. Life took me by the scruff of the neck and threw me in a different direction, but I’ve never lost the urge to go to sea. Trouble is, I’m too old to be a ship’s cook now, and so the only way I’m going to ride the waves is via a cruise. During World War II he was on Atlantic Convoys, and several times did the Murmansk route. We’re off on a smallish ship to Iceland, which is somewhere between the two. A pilgrimage, you may say.

Your turn. Any holiday destinations you’d recommend? What about places you wish you never visited? We’d love to hear the story behind those.

Internet Etiquette

By C.M. Saunders

I know what you’re thinking. Internet etiquette? It’s the internet, there is no etiquette.

But see, you would be wrong.

So wrong.

Because everything you post online, every snide comment, scathing retort, and misguided or misunderstood witticism, is there for all the world to see and it stays there until you delete it.

And even then there are ways to get it back, or so I’m told.

This means that past, present and future friends, colleagues, partners and employers can all see how you interact with people, and what kind of person lurks behind that cool exterior. Oh, and you can add the government to that list. Not just yours, but more than likely several, and even your great aunty Zelda. You didn’t think she used Facebook? Best think again. Even regular Joe’s who you don’t notice lurking online and don’t give much of a shit about anyway can pose a threat.

The DO’s are quite simple: DO use the Internet however you see fit, DO surf to your heart’s content, DO find some of its hidden corners, DO look up those old friends and flames, and DO find new ones. In short, have a blast. Just be aware of a few DON’T’s.

By the way, this (non-exhaustive) list is aimed primarily at indie writers and other internet marketers, but with a little improvisation, can be applied to just about anyone’s daily life. It is designed to help, not hinder.

DON’T post book links, or any promotional material, direct to people’s Facebook wall.

DON’T send book links, or any other promotional material, in the form of direct messages. This topic is particularly prickly amongst the Twitteratti. They fucking hate it.

DON’T tag people in political posts or rants about Lady Gaga, football, the environment, the refugee crisis, veganism, or anything else that could be construed as even vaguely divisive or controversial. The post likely reflects YOUR opinion, not that of the people you are tagging, and by tagging them you are associating them with your views against their will.

DON’T add people to groups without their permission, even if you think you’re doing them a favour. Just don’t.

When commenting on other people’s threads, DON’T see that as an opportunity to drop your book link. That, my friend, is spam, and it tastes like shit.

Similarly, when people ask for book recommendations, DON’T recommend your own book. Show some humility, you pretentious asshole.

Listen, I get that some people just aren’t very savvy. They might mean well, and just don’t know what they are doing is annoying the shit out of people. But the vast majority of social network users know exactly what they are doing. They know they are taking liberties and being annoying. They just don’t care. That’s just disrespectful.

Do yourself a favour, follow these unwritten rules, and make social networking less painful and awkward for the people who know you.

61yusXRXjwL X3, the third collection of fiction by C.M. Saunders featuring revised versions of stories taken from the pages of The Literary Hatchet, Siren’s Call, Morpheus Tales, Gore Magazine, Indie Writer’s Review and several anthologies, is available now. X3 also includes two previously unpublished stories, extensive notes, and exclusive artwork by the award-winning Greg Chapman. 

Meet the airline passenger who makes an alarming discovery, the boy who takes on an evil troll, an ageing couple facing the apocalypse, a jaded music hack on the trail of the Next Big Thing, the gambler taking one last spin, and many more.

 

 

Where the M Comes From

By C.M. Saunders

 

I’ve been doing this for a while now, and you may have noticed I use different names for different kinds of writing. For academic writing and more formal or serious stuff, I use my full given name. It looks more official. For sport, lifestyle and comedy writing, I use the slightly snappier moniker Chris Saunders. And for fiction, I usually use the name C.M. Saunders. There are practical reasons for doing this. I like to keep different facets of my writing career separate because it’s easier to get my head around. Besides that, the people who read my horror fiction would probably be deeply disappointed if they accidentally picked up one of my travel books, or the one I wrote about Cardiff City FC, and vice versa.

Over the years, a lot of people have asked me why I use C.M. Saunders, especially since I don’t actually have a middle name, and so no middle initial. It’s kind of a happy coincidence that my boyhood nickname was Moony. Because I have a round face, apparently. I guess it could have been a lot worse. There was a boy in my street called Dickhead. Anyway, no. That’s not where the M comes from. It’s not as straightforward as that. But there is a very good reason for it and for the first time in public, I’m going to reveal what that reason is.

It’s for my grandfather on my mother’s side. Firstly, he’s probably part of the reason I grew up to be so into the whole horror thing. He was a big reader, and would go to the local library a couple of times a week. This was back when libraries had books. Whenever I went to visit him and my grandmother in his bungalow at the top of the village when I was a kid, he would always have the latest horror novels lying on the table next to his reading chair. I was too young to read them, or even remember much, I just loved looking at those covers. Stephen King, James Herbert, Graham Masterton.

A little word about my granddad, or Pop as we called him. His name was Stanley Martin. Like my other granddad on my father’s side, he was a coal miner almost all his life. Proper old school Welsh. Being a miner was a hard life. He would delight in telling me, my sister, and cousins horror stories. Some were things that really happened to him or his friends, some were local myths or legends, and he probably made the rest up just to entertain us. The man was covered in little blue scars where coal dust had got into his cuts when he was underground, and he was still coughing up black shit twenty years after he retired. He met and married a Welsh woman called Lillian and they had three daughters, including my mother. All three daughters grew up and got married. As per tradition, when they got married they took the names of their husbands so pretty soon, the Martin name vanished. I always thought that was a bit sad, and when I started taking fiction a bit more seriously and was looking around for a pseudonym to distinguish it from my journalism, I thought using the ‘M’ initial might be a cool way to keep the name ‘Martin’ alive. He died a long time ago, and when he did his surname died with him. Now, every time I have something published under the name C.M. Saunders, it’s a silent nod to the man who introduced me to horror. If there’s a heaven, I know he’s up there looking down with pride in his eyes. Cheers, Pops.

 

61yusXRXjwLX3, the third collection of fiction by C.M. Saunders featuring revised versions of stories taken from the pages of The Literary Hatchet, Siren’s Call, Morpheus Tales, Gore Magazine, Indie Writer’s Review and several anthologies, is available now. X3 also includes two previously unpublished stories, extensive notes, and exclusive artwork by the award-winning Greg Chapman. 

Meet the airline passenger who makes an alarming discovery, the boy who takes on an evil troll, an ageing couple facing the apocalypse, a jaded music hack on the trail of the Next Big Thing, the gambler taking one last spin, and many more.

 

What’s New for April? Books!

 

C.M. Saunders has been a busy, busy boy. Last month, he published a little something in Crimson Streets, and he continued with his Retro Review series. In April, not only is he continuing is Retro Review series (catch the latest on his blog), he’s also releasing the third book in his X horror collection series, X3. You can pre-order it now, and while you’re at it, get the first two books in this series for just 99 cents in April as well.

Our very own P.J. Blakey-Novis has also interviewed him for Indie Writers’ Review (Follow the Facebook page for book, review, etc. news and for opportunities to win books) and Christian’s stopping by Roadie Notes for another interview. You’ll want to check both out.

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Oh, and speaking of Mr. Blakey-Novis, keep your eye on this blog or his Indie Writers Review page next month for news about upcoming titles from him as well, including a little something called Boxes of Blood.

This month, Renee Miller released Splish, Slash, Takin’ a Bloodbath with Unnerving Magazine, and on April 10th, look for her twisted novelette, Cats Like Cream. And for the month of April, Renee’s got a little thing happening on her Facebook page. For the price of answering a question, you’ll be entered to win a digital subscription to Unnerving Magazine’s 2018 digital catalogue. That includes mobi, epub and PDF copies of all of the 2018 Unnerving releases below (not the magazine), plus a couple of more TBD titles, and/or a paperback copy of Eat the Rich, which will be released in July via Hindered Souls Press.

And Katrina Monroe fans, if you’ve been missing her lately, don’t fret, she’s been publishing a series of short fiction on her blog. The first, Liquid Innovations, Please Hold, appeared last month, and the most recent, Lost and Found, is available to read now. Stop by throughout April for more brand new fiction from her.

In case you missed it, Steve Wetherell also released brand new fiction in March. Check out his Shingles Series installment, The Monkey’s Penis. His comedic horror gem, Shoot the Dead, is also on Amazon Prime’s reading list for April (actually, its on the list now and will be for 90 days, which means it’s free for Amazon Prime members, so get on it).

Michael Keyton has been quiet, but tune in next month when we reveal May’s book news for more from him as well.

That’s all for now, kittens. Check our Facebook page for more news, and check back here next month to find out what we’ve got going on in May.

 

Shrink Wrapped : Liam McNalley Edition

Interview by Renee Miller

We get a new guy and what’s the first thing we do? That’s right. We shrink wrap him. For those of you following this blog regularly, you know what this is about. For the rest of you, we developed a series of highly unscientific questions that allow us to gain insight into the brains of each Doll. Now, we just realized Michael and Liam never got a chance to be shrinked, so here we go. Liam McNalley’s turn.

How would you explain Twitter to an alien?

Since the Twitter is as alien to me as it would be to him, I’d just say “How many twats could a twitter twit tweet, if a twitter twit could tweet twats?”

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Okay… You’re walking down the street and you see a severed arm blocking a storm drain. Do you assume it’s real or fake? Why.

Depends on whether my dog starts eating it or not…

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If an alien abducted you tonight, what part of your body do you think they’d be most confused by?

Hey, I’m an old man, what wouldn’t they be confused by? All seriousness aside, I’ll keep it clean, and say the rock hard callouses on the fingertips of my left hand, (and not my right,) otherwise known as “guitar picker fingers.”

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What are the least dramatic circumstances it would take for you to kill someone?

“Seriously, officer, it was an uncontrollable reflex… the bastard annoyed me while I was reading.”

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**Yes, seems totally reasonable to me.**

Tomorrow you wake up and you’re the opposite gender. What’s the first thought that comes to your mind, and the first thing you do?

First thought: “My beard! Nooooooo!!!!!!”

**Maybe they’ll let you keep the beard…**

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First thing done: I’d say “Ima be rich!” Then I’d realize that nobody is going to want a 60-year old hooker, and just lapse into depression.

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**Yeah, we see what you mean.**

Ink blot test: Tell us what you see.

ink blot

That’s easy. It’s a moss covered skull rising malevolently from the midden.

Of course it is. Well done, Liam! 

Peter Cheyney and I

(originally published May, 2016 by Mystery File)

I came across Peter Cheyney when I was somewhere between twelve and thirteen. A church bazaar or second hand bookshop, the memory is blurred. What remains clear is that being basically stupid and already with the propensity to read what I wanted to read, I assumed at first the book was a western ‘Peter Cheyenne’ being some kind of cowboy. When it became clear that it wasn’t a western, I put the book down convinced Peter Cheyenne was an American thriller writer.

I forgot all about him (well almost, the name having some kind of magic) for almost forty years. And this ‘forgetting’ is key to the whole story. Peter Cheyney was the most popular and prolific British author of his day. He was also the most highly paid. His curse perhaps is that he undoubtedly influenced Ian Fleming, for Bond is nothing more than a glamorous composite of the Cheyney ‘hero’. Cheyney created the template that Fleming developed, and the rest is history. Bond got Chubby Broccoli and celluloid fame, Peter Cheyney obscurity and critical censure.

John le Carre, when asked about spy books that might have influenced him as a child, gave the following response. He duly bowed his head to Kipling, Conrad, Buchan and Greene, and then referred to the: ‘…awful, mercifully-forgotten chauvinistic writers like Peter Cheyney and Co.’

John Sutherland made a similar point, referring to Cheyney’s Dark Series as the ‘high point of a resolutely low flying career.’ These two, wonderfully pithy, assessments are true to a point. They are also skewed by the cultural background and literary talent of both men.

Cheyney was chauvinistic, and no great shakes in terms of vocabulary and style, but he shouldn’t be forgotten ‘mercifully’ or otherwise. Cheyney’s success as the most highly paid writer of his time does not necessarily qualify him as a literary giant, but it does show that his work reflected the attitudes and mood of a huge swathe of the population, amplified it and played it back to them. Cheyney talked to the popular mood rather than the concerns of an educated elite. It was ‘everyman’ who bought his work in droves.

During the dark years of World War II and the austerity that followed, Cheyney’s novels were taken into battlefields, were exchanged for ten cigarettes in POW camps, and at a time when fabric was rationed, women fantasised about the glamorous Cheyney femme fatales in their satin and silks, sheer stockings, ruffles and bows. Read Cheyney and you’re reading violence and brutality set in a fashion catalogue.

For those jaded by pilgrimages to Baker Street, Cheyney provides a welcome alternative. Most of his many heroes, villains and victims live in a very small area of London. Some are unwitting neighbours, and all jostle each other on the same roads and streets, ghosts in parallel worlds. These are mapped, allowing the reader to go on his or her own ‘Cheyney walk.’

Cheyney, Behave recaptures a lost world and provides an eye-opening analysis of a popular culture we might prefer to forget. The book examines the importance of cigarettes and alcohol in Cheyney’s world, his attitude to ‘pansies’, racism, women, and the unconscious but jaw-dropping sexism of his age. It analyses the significance of Cheyney’s ‘Dark’ series in terms of war propaganda and how Cheyney accurately captured the effects of war on prevailing morality.

In his books you will find misogyny, homophobia, racism, sexism and chauvinism and, at their core, idealism and a deep vulnerability. In terms of market forces they reflect a world long past, one far different from ours but fascinating and worth understanding. Read Cheyney, Behaveand judge for yourself.

What Bugs You?

Everyone’s got something that annoys the shit out of them, right? I think sometimes creative types are a little more in tune with such things, because some of us pay a little too much attention to people and what they do. So, we thought, why not share our peeves, and then invite you all to share yours. Once a bad thing is out, it’s not so bad, right? Maybe. Here goes.

Liam: Autocorrect is evil.

(Agreed, but sometimes it’s also funny)

Steve: Publishing pet peeve – Writers who point out other writers’ typos publicly on social media (without invitation to do so). You’re laying down a gauntlet there, and you’d better be pretty fucking good before you feel you have carte blanche to call out other writers based on a typing error. And in most of the writer groups I’ve been in, nobody’s that good.

Other Pet Peeves – People who assume moral superiority for having the “right” opinion. I’ll take a brash cunt that does the good in front of them over a prick that loudly moralises from an unchallenged high ground any day of the week.

(I love it when you use the C word, Steve.)

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Hanna: Someone chewing with their mouth open, which makes me want to scream, For fucksakes, close your damn mouth when you chew!

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Katrina: Publishing-wise, when a writer is convinced they’ve nothing left to learn or refuse to edit beyond grammar mistakes. Makes me stabby.

(Like, one time I said I wasn’t making the edits. ONE TIME. Jeeze.)

Christian: (Are you all ready for this?)

1. Cunts who block me on Facebook for no reason.

eyebrow.gifFTL markets (In English: For the love markets, which pay zilch to authors)

2. Snowflake pretenders who spend a lot of time whining about how hard writing is instead of, you know, writing.

3. People who have multiple online profiles. I don’t mean pseudonyms for writing. That has a purpose. But I’ve recently learned that some weird fucks maintain multiple profiles just for the hell of it.

(We’ve contacted his doctor and he’ll be receiving stronger medication in the future.)

Renee: Oh, the list is so long. I let too much annoy me. First, I cannot stand know-it-alls, so I guess that’d fall into snowflakes who think they don’t need editing or have nothing left to learn, and moral high ground assholes, as Steve mentioned. Second, loud eaters. Really hate those. And close talkers. Mostly because they breathe on me and I hate when people breathe in my face.

Publishing: Whiners bug me. Do your bitching in private, not on social media. Kay? Thanks.

Finally, just in general, I also can’t stand sniffers. By that I mean, people who constantly sniff and snuffle. Get a fucking tissue and blow your damn nose. I think that’s enough for now.

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Now it’s your turn. What bugs you guys? Come on, share and we’ll judge you for it.

 

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Shrink Wrapped: Katrina Monroe Edition

As we’ve already explained in previous interviews, this is not a meet the author and find out all the writerly yawn-fest things she does kind of thing. Instead, we took questions a doctor or cop searching for a serial killer might ask and tweaked them a little. It’s been enlightening… and disturbing.

katrinaKatrina Monroe (Saete) is hilarious. Let’s just get that out of the way so I can get paid. Her most recent book, ALL DARLING CHILDREN, is possibly THE BEST THING EVER, so you should pick it up. If you’re a pussy who can’t handle some darkness, I have to ask what you’re doing here. Seriously, get out.

Now, she helped compile these questions, but had no control over what ones she got. She doesn’t like big surprises, so we had to do it that way or there’d be another “incident.”

Let’s see what we scraped out of her head.

What would you do if you found a dead body in your lover’s freezer?

Since my lover’s freezer is also my freezer, I would probably wonder if I’d been sleepwalking again. A person can only take so much Ambien before the dreams start showing up in the daytime. Wait. Is this a dream?

*Yes. Shouldn’t you be naked? *

Tom Hiddleston or Tom Cruise? Explain your answer

TOM CRUISE IS A BASTARD. YOU TELL HIM THAT. YOU TELL HIM AND THAT ASSHOLE ATTORNEY OF HIS THAT I WON’T BE BOUGHT, YOU HEAR ME?

dean-grimace

*Still upset about the “Tom” thing. Noted. *

 You’re stranded. Maybe it’s the end of the world. Who knows. What matters is the food situation is pretty damn sketchy. You’re starving. Your friends (no family survived. Sorry about your loss) are starving. Through a few heated rounds of rock, paper, scissors, it’s been decided you’re the first to be eaten. Would you rather they eat you piece by piece, keeping you alive, so you can also eat, thus ensuring everyone has a better chance at survival, even though you’ll have to eat yourself and watch others eating you, and probably lose a few limbs, or do you want them to just kill you and do what they must with your body?

You’re a sick fuck, Miller. Kill me and get it over with.

*We promised no judgments here, didn’t we? THIS IS A SAFE PLACE TO TALK ABOUT HARD THINGS. REMEMBER?! *

Have you ever lied about something just because you knew you could get away with it? Care to elaborate?

When I was in college, I decided to see how long I could get away with pretending to be British. Turns out the answer is a long fucking time, because I went to college in Florida, where high IQs are about as plentiful as snowfall.

*I love British accents. I bet they were all blinded by your sexiness. *

Tomorrow you wake up and you’re the opposite gender. What’s the first thought that comes to your mind and the first thing you do?

“Does this mean I get paid more now?” And, I’d probably pee on something. Because, duh.

*I’d pee on EVERYTHING. *

Now, tell me what you see in this picture:

katrinas-blot

The ink blot is obviously two pigs, snouts thrust up in the air, fighting over an ugly dress.

I can’t believe you guessed what it was. Amazing.

Thanks for coming out. The dwarf has your meds. No, you may not have the knives back. They’re community property now. Maybe next time you’ll respect boundaries.