The old refrain: we’ve seen this before and we’ll see it again.

Some disturbed individual buys a bunch of guns and murders a bunch of people. The media falls in love with the story. We endure some rounds of punditry. A few people change their minds on the issues of gun control and mental healthcare, but most of us stand firm in our opinions. Then, after a few days, we move on, until another wayward soul takes some shots at another awful legacy and we all say, “we’ve seen this before and we’ll see it again.”

I rarely address current events on this blog. I almost never mention my politics. But I feel the need to address the issue of guns and gun violence. Don’t worry, I’m not here with boatloads of links and statistics and I don’t think I’m qualified to offer viable solutions. I’m only going to talk about how this issue relates to my life and my writing.

I’ve never owned a real gun, or even fired one. Although I lived a free-range childhood that involved plenty of squirt, rubber dart, and cap guns, my parents didn’t allow firearms in the house. Even BB guns were off limits. If I wanted to shoot an air rifle, I had to arrange a clandestine meeting in the woods with a friend who owned a pump-action Daisy. During one such meeting, I ended up with a welt on my cheek, the result of poor safety precautions and an opportunistic ricochet. “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid,” indeed.

Six or seven years later, when I was studying in London, a lone Englishman at a party full of Americans approached me and asked how many of us were carrying guns. I laughed at the absurdity of his question, but he wasn’t joking. Not only did he believe that all Americans owned and carried guns, he also assumed that we did so when we traveled.

A year after that, on New Year’s Eve, I was in a nearly empty pizza parlor on Bleecker Street when a group of teens in puffy coats entered. They didn’t attempt to order. They just stood amid the tables, eyeing up the cashier. When one teen unzipped his coat, I saw a pistol tucked in his waistband. The cashier knew what was about to happen; he placed his hands flat on the counter and didn’t budge. After a tense minute or two, one of the teens finally said, “not worth it,” and they walked out.

A few years later, in rural upstate New York, I attended a 4th of July party. In lieu of fireworks, the host pulled an Uzi from his impressive gun cabinet and proceeded to shoot a few dozen rounds into the air. I don’t know if he was the legal owner of that Uzi, but I doubt it. I left the party shortly after the entertainment.

Guns haven’t played much of a role in my life of late, except when it comes to my writing. These days, I write books about kids. Because my books are about kids, they’re sold to kids. In my books, some of the characters wield and shoot guns. Those characters are all kids.

During the editorial stages, I have been asked to remove plenty of swearing and kissing from my books. It’s a business decision more than an artistic one. Certain libraries and book-buyers refuse to buy anything in the middle-grade market (i.e. fare for ages 9–12) that features a few hells and a little frenching. And yet, I have never been asked to edit out a gun or an incident of gun violence, even when a 12-year-old character is the perpetrator of that violence. The powers-that-be are okay with all that.

Should they be okay with all that, though? I don’t know. I hope they should be, as long as I’m doing my job as an author, which I believe is to provide an engrossing story with compelling characters whose motivations are relatable a

Oh, the mighty mighty Ohi’. It runs from the Alleghen’ to the Mississip’, skirting the edge of West Virginny and good ol’ Ketuck’ along the way. No, I’m not wanting for  vowels. This is how I speak when I speak of rivers. Conversely, when I speak of canals, such as my beloved hometown’s Erie Canal, I add vowels (the correct pronunciation is thus ee-rye-ee, my friends). Things have gotten folksy here and you’re just going to have to get used to it.

Where was I? Oh yes, the Ohio River. About halfway along it lies the city of Huntington, West Virginia. Huntington is a special place for me because it’s where my sister and her family have lived for more than a decade. And over that last decade, I have visited for summer idylls and autumn holidays and winter spelunking adventures. This spring, I return for a book festival. The delightful organizers of the Ohio River Festival of Books have been kind enough to invite me to speak at a couple of local middle schools, and to meet readers and sign books. Here are the details:

• What: Book selling and signing
• Where: Big Sandy Conference Center. Huntington, West Virginia
• When: Friday, April 20, 6:30-9:00 PM
• How: Any which way you can

So if you live in tri-state region of West Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio, please stop by and say hello!

1. Easy Reading Damn Hard Writing (vaguely spoilerish): “Starmer’s really accomplished something here, and this book is definitely one of my favorites that I’ve read so far in 2012.” “Such a lovely book.” “A+”
2. The Allure of Books: “Seriously. The cleverness, originality and imagination of Aaron Starmer staggers me. The Only Ones might be odd. It might be hard to completely process it all. But it is an incredible story.”
3. Reed Reads Book Reviews: “A book for readers that love the unpredictable. A book for readers that constantly ask themselves questions and make predictions as the story turns and twists in a non-linear way. A book for readers that appreciate beautifully written and lyrical story telling.” “4.5/5″
4. Evanston Public Library Loft Blog: “Starmer bends convention to explore deeper questions about the nature of fate, time and belief.”
5. Read Listen Love (includes giveaway!): “It intrigued me from the first page, constantly surprised me and had fantastic characters.”
6. Mabel’s Fables Bookstore Raves and Faves: “This book is like a sci-fi take on Lord of the Flies — so basically, awesome.”
7. Kiss the Book: “The story is unique and captivating and twists and turns in unexpected ways.” ”ESSENTIAL.”
8. Crunchings and Munchings (spoilers): “Aaron Starmer, I admire your guts.” N.B.This isn’t the most positive review, but it’s an interesting one just the same.
9. BPLD Teen Blog (spoilers): “And what happens next is simply amazing!”
10. Northshire Bookstore Reviews: “Truly a gripping story with mysterious elements which are beyond earthly explanation.”

I also stumbled upon a couple of discussions

A couple of weeks ago I sat down and treated myself to an impromptu double-feature. I started with Take Shelter, the Jeff Nichol’s film starring Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain. It’s a brilliant little ode to paranoia. Not for everyone, but if you like your fare ambiguous, slow-burning and with a dash of doomsday prepping, then this one is for you. Since I figured my nightmares could benefit from a little more bleakness, I followed it up with John Hillcoat’s adaptation of The Road. Of course, the book is better. There’s no point in engaging in such arguments. But the film, I believe, was unjustly overlooked. Heartbreaking performances, impeccable art direction–a carefully realized and complete vision of Earth in its death throes. The pacing is a bit off. Some poetry is lost in the translation, but I can’t really complain. After all we live in a world where films starring Kevin James exist.

The double-feature was not really a calculated choice, but when it was over, it felt as though the two films belonged together. It was as if The Road was a spiritual sequel to Take Shelter. It didn’t follow connected characters necessarily, but it was a progression of the themes and time period. And it got me thinking…

What if I could create a grand list of movies that line up thematically and are arranged chronologically. When I say chronologically, I don’t mean by production date. I mean by the time in which they’re set. It is an ambitious task, I know, but I am a man of ambition. Need I remind you that I’ve read at least five Choose Your Own Adventure novels front to back?

I shall dub this fool’s errand The Great and Ridiculous Movie Timeline and I will make a pledge to revisit this project over the next few weeks or months until I have covered the entire scope of history, or until I have reached the limits of my interest. Let’s begin:

1,000,000 B.C. –  Missing Link (1988)

Sure, I could start with some dinosaur fare, some Land Before Time perhaps. I could even climb Malick’s Tree of Life or throw Kubrick’s 2001 apes a bone. But I’d prefer to kick things off with the beginnings of man and I’d prefer not to take in the entire history of the cosmos while I’m at it. Which leads me to The Missing Link. I saw this strange little film sometime in the early 90s. It’s the story of a lone hominid wandering the deserts and savannas of Africa. He’s not quite a monkey, not quite a man. That ain’t the tagline, but might as well be. Or better yet, let’s pretend the tagline is: “The only thing that’s missing is the future of his species!”

Because this guy is one of anthropology’s Last of the Mohicans. His species (paranthropus robustus) is being replaced by a smarter, more violent one. Namely our forefathers. And we are allowed to witness poor Link’s final days and homo-sapiens’ early ones. The film is done in a quasi-nature documentary style, much like the Walking With series that Discovery Channel cooked up over ten years after this film. The directors were a husband and wife team known for

You gotta be careful in here, kid. You may be wearin’ your stripes, but you ain’t earned your stripes. Go it alone and you’ll make mistakes. You’ll hitch yourself to the wrong post, get saddled up and sold to the highest bidder. Stick by me and you might stand half a chance, but you’re gonna hafta listen.

…

What’s that?

…

Oh, that’d be on Tuesdays. Not a bad spread. Pickles. Onions. Standard. You’ll learn the menu. More important is this here yard. How you carry yourself. Who you trust. Take that fella at the bench press for example, the one with the dark beard and forearms thick as your chest. Name’s Bluto. Doin’ a dime for kidnappin’ a woman. That’s right, a sailor man’s wife. Threw her over his shoulder and took her down to the docks. Oh, he’ll rough you up right, but keep a can of spinach in your hip pocket and he’ll think twice. I don’t understand the science, but that there is the formula. Spinach.

…

Agreed, kid. Coupla sizzlin’ patties will beat a can o’ the green any yesterday or tomorrow, but that’s not what we’re talkin’. We’re talkin’ today and today is about the disco and the disco is about stayin’ alive. Have a look here. Skinny character sporting the lime suit? Question mark on his chest? That don’t mean he’s the information booth. No sir. Say a word to that crafty SOB and he’ll come at you like the Sphinx, all riddles ‘n giggles. Next thing you know you’ll be chummin’ around with a psycho circus clown and runnin’ from some pointy-eared, gravelly voiced vigilante. No. Thank. You. Best to steer clear of that riddler entirely.

…

Beats me! I wouldn’t know if his riddles are about ground beef or ground cinnamon for that matter, because I don’t talk to the man! Aren’t you listenin’? Better be. Your eyes ain’t gonna tell you what my twenty-seven years behind this barbed wire knows to be true. Another example. You probably look over at that strung-out orange beaky guy and think, “well that’s just some ol’ cuckoo junkie.” You’d be right about that. But that ol’ cuckoo junkie goes by the name of Sonny, and Sonny knows where to score the sweet stuff, if you catch my meaning. Sonny is just cuckoo for it, smuggles it past the guards in cereal boxes. You want a taste, that’s your bird.

…

I guess he could get you some, but why not wait till Tuesday? Like I said, they fire up that flame-broiler on Tuesdays. Sonny’s got no time to bother with no fast-food. Wisen up, boy, or you’ll end up runnin’ with them Hanna Barberas and let me tell you, that gang’s no Laff-a-Lympics. Sure, some of them hustlas may talk a soft game, soundin’ like Casey Casem or Paul Lynde, but they will be quick to shank a new fish if they even suspect you’re conspirin’ with the ascotted and far-sighted and snack-gobblin’ brand o’ meddlin’ teenagers. Dig? Of course you don’t. I’m not spellin’ it out in ketchup. These are the type of gangstas that dress as ghosts and swamp thangs and go hauntin’ just so they can shut down orphanages! That enough to scare you? Oh and don’t get me started on the Orphans! That’s another gang. A more Dickensian band of bandits you have not seen. If it ain’t your porridge they’re after, it’s your inheritance. You work the chimney sweep detail and you’ll be pits-deep in those mangy lads, singing show-tunes while they pick your pocket. You’re better off

Josh Berk and I went to college together. Drew University, class of 1998. It’s a tiny liberal arts college in the monied wilds on New Jersey. We did not, however, know each other back then. Our ignorance is well documented.

The world spins as the world spins and it spun us both into the “billionaire’s game”–aka writing novels for young readers. And that’s how we finally met. It’s a good thing we did, at least for me. First off, Josh was kind enough to interview me when my latest book came out. Second off (is there a second off?), Josh is a master of teenage persiflage and tomfoolery, as well as murder mystery and general pathos. I have much to learn from this man. In pursuit of that knowledge, I turned the interview tables and we talked about his latest novel Guy Langman, Crime Scene Procrastinator (in stores on March 13!). It’s a rollicking tale of girls, grief and gold, and it stars a slacker, his thinly mustachioed best friend, a high school forensics squad, and a couple stiffs.  The unedited, no-holds-barred chat about it is featured below.

But I issue this warning: Some of the content is a bit ribald. If you do not know what ribald means, please stop reading now. And if your parents do not know what ribald means, please turn off the internet now and take a family trip to the library.  As for the rest of you? Enjoy!

AARON: Knock knock

JOSH: Who farted?

AARON: Cool it Berk! I’m the one asking the questions!

See what I did right there? That’s what detectives call the old Sandusky Switcheroo. Get a perp thinking he’s in charge of the situation, then BAM, turn the tables. Of course, you know that. Because when you wrote Guy Langman, Crime Scene Procrastinator, you must have studied a bit of police work, right? Tell me about some of the weird and amazing things you discovered regarding forensic science. What made it into the book? What didn’t?

JOSH: Well I did spend a few years on the force in Allentown, cracking skulls and chasing perps. OK really I watched a lot of CSI reruns. And Law & Order reruns. And I literally did read Forensics For Dummies, which I probably shouldn’t admit… I also did a lot of online research, including the scoping out of high school forensics clubs web pages to see the type of work actually being done by high school kids in their forensic science clubs these days. Lots of it is quite amazing! Most everyone in high school I knew was interested in committing crimes, not solving them, so I don’t know why people say they have no hope for this generation.

Amazing fact: If you lose your arms and have to learn to write with your mouth, eventually your mouth-writing will closely resemble your hand-writing. That’s a fact! It’s in the book. You can look it up. Also, try it at home. (Writing with your mouth I mean, not losing your arms.)

Something that didn’t make it into the book was a w

I have a folder in a box under my bed. It’s bursting with rejection letters from publishers, agents, movie studios, theaters, colleges, literary magazines, employers, societies and probably even the Columbia House Record Club (trust me, children, this is funny). I started the folder in my ambitious teenage days, and I guess at first it was an enemies list, or a “big mistake, pal, you haven’t heard the last from this kid, no sir, not the last by a long shot, and you can be sure I’ll bring your name up at Nobel Prize ceremonies and in a chapter titled The Clueless Ones in my five volume autobiography” list.

Now the folder is just something I bring on school visits, to show kids that the world is full of rejection, but that doesn’t mean they should give up on their dreams. Unless they have a folder thicker than mine (Pynchon-thick at this point), they’d be fools to throw in the towel. It’s hokey, of course, but it’s effective in sobering up a world drunk on overnight sensation (note to self: if I ever create my own brand of malt liquor, call it Overnight Sensation).

A rejection letter (or these days, an email) always beats a good old-fashioned lack of response, and a good rejection letter is something to savor. I’ve received a few good ones, including a gem from a university that basically said, “if you do well in life, please let us know we made a mistake.” So lovely in its smug passive aggressiveness, that letter. And no, I haven’t yet informed aforementioned university of the number of heart pieces I’ve found in The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. A man must be bigger than these things.

So while you can stuff most sorries in a sack, there are a few you might want to frame. If only, if only, if only, my book The Only Ones had received this one that my old pal Gertrude got:

People often ask me a question that many authors dread.

“So how’s the book doing?”

They’re well intentioned, these askers. They’re taking an interest in my life and work and that’s beyond flattering. But there’s rarely an honest answer an author can give to such a query or, to be more specific, an honest answer that will evoke a wink and a thumbs-up. The book can always be doing better, at least in terms of sales, and that’s really what they’re asking about. For most of us, it would be hard for the book to be doing a heck of a lot worse.

So I usually respond by saying, “people are really enjoying it.” This is an effective, it’s beautiful on the inside deflection that knocks the conversation out-of-bounds and it causes the asker to respond, “well I really enjoyed it!” and we get on with life.

But for this one time, I’m not going to deflect. I’m going to keep the conversation going, in hopes that someday I might have a more satisfying answer to that question.

So why isn’t the book doing better? Is it a lousy book?

Maybe. Yet we all know that plenty of lousy things take the world by storm, while plenty of amazing things remain largely undiscovered. I honestly believe that my book The Only Ones is an undiscovered gem, which is endlessly frustrating. Sure, there’s something romantic about being a long-suffering writer who’s penned an undiscovered gem, but there’s a little more romance in penning a discovered gem. There’s also a royalty check or two.

The market is overcrowded with books and the sad fact is that only a fraction of them will get the attention required to earn back their advances. Don’t ask me to explain the economics behind why a publisher would dump buckets of gold on one book while barely tossing bus fare to another, because I’ll come off sounding bitter and uninformed. But I can tell you that if a few things don’t go your book’s way—at a marketing meeting, during a sales call, in a trade review—then it might mean a loss of the support needed for that book to get discovered. Then it’s all up to you, the author, the confused neophyte who stands to collect a sobering 10-15% (before the agent’s cut) of the sales.

A lot of authors aren’t very good at promoting themselves. No surprise there. Bookish and introverted is no way to go through life, son, and it’s certainly no way to make a splash at a MediaBistro mixer. I’m no P.T. Barnum. I don’t have the ego for it. I embarrass too easily. Perhaps sales of my book have suffered because of that, but rather than beat myself up, or try to change my personality, I’ve decided to play to strengths.

The strength of The Only Ones is The Only Ones. If people aren’t buying the book, then dagnammit, I should be giving them the book. It’s been on the market for only four months, but with shiny new titles released every week, that’s a lifetime in terms of visibility. If the book is not in people’s hands soon, it will soon find its way into the bargain bin. Or so my logic goes.

Here is what I propose. If you’re a blogger, or a newspaper reviewer, or a Today Show anchor, and you read The Only Ones and review it, then I will do the following:

1. I will sign a hardcover copy of the book.
2. I will send aforementioned book to a person of your choosing. That person could be a nephew, a stepsister, a parcheesi partner, a cellmate or a Unitarian. It doesn’t matter. Just as long as that person is in the United States and has an address that can receive United States Postal Service deliveries.

“Hey now, Charlie!” you’re probably saying. “You’re just buying reviews!”

I was going to try to write this post without using the word blogosphere. But see, I can’t make it even 15 words without resorting to such vocabulary. Oh, the blogosphere is a powerful sphere these days, right up there with the Southern Hemisphere, the troposphere, and Sphere by Michael Cricthon. And I have to acknowledge that power, or else they’ll hunt me down and take me out like this was a Dan Brown book and they were renegade nuns and I was a dashing Sanskrit expert (that’s the sort of thing that happens in Dan Brown books, right?).

What I’m getting at is this: in a market flooded with books, not every author can expect a Charlie Rose interview, a Today Show spot and a New Yorker feature to help get the word out about his/her hardback baby. Thankfully there is a passionate community of fans and critics who are doing the heavy lifting for free. There’s nothing like coming across a review online and knowing that someone out there not only read and thought about your story, but is now expanding on it. Because that’s what good criticism is: a continuation of the story, even when it’s negative criticism. I tend to read criticism after I read a book, or watch a movie, or listen to an album. I want to see if others shared in my experience or had a wildly different point of view. It helps me see more of the story. It gives it a fuller shape. Sure, it sometimes leads to me shaking my fist and screaming “Moron!” or “Philistine!” but most things in life do.

So blogosophere, I salute you.  Amazon is okay (with its “best book eva!” and “this book is the root of all evil!” reviews) and Goodreads can be endlessly fascinating and frustrating (I’m fine with one star, just tell me why!). But give me a blog review any day of the week. I’m serious. If you have a blog…give me a review! Even on a Tuesday! Follow the lead of these 10 trailblazers who–despite a dabbling in SPOILERS!–have not only shared my book with the world, but have given me new insights into what I wrote. They have made my story even longer:

1. Mother Reader: “One, I’m calling this as a movie waiting to be made. Two, this book would make a perfect gift…”
2. Charlotte’s Library (spoiler at end): “It’s the best sort of upper middle grade book–ie, great for an eleven year old child, and for the mg reading grown-up.”
3. Parenthetical (mild spoilers): “This is a weird, amazing, amazingly weird book.”
4. Librarian in the Middle: “Part science fiction, part mystery, this well-crafted story was moving in ways I didn’t see coming.  This is one that will stick with me for a long time.”
5. Snarky and Sweet: “I can only talk in the vaguest terms about the plot because one of th
   2 Comments on The Blogosphere Vs. The Only Ones, last added: 1/11/2012
   Display Comments
   Anthony said, on 1/3/2012 9:19:00 AM
   

   Hey thanks for mentioning MSBPL Books. I am the librarian/blogger and thus amateur review writer. I’ll work harder at not giving so much away. I really did enjoy your book though, and I have recommended it to the libraries Teen Advisory Board. Thanks again.

   Aaron said, on 1/3/2012 1:35:00 PM
   

   Anthony –

   Happy to include it…and read it! I especially enjoyed your discussion of the themes of selfishness in the book. As for spoilers, don’t worry one bit. I just wanted to warn anyone who, as Frank Costanza says, “likes to go in fresh!” I realize they’re inevitable in many reviews.

   Thank you so much for the recommendation and the review!

   Best,
   Aaron

   Add a Comment

INT. FACEBOOK CONFERENCE ROOM – DAY

Dustin Moskovitz and Chris Hughes sit at a conference table, surrounded by piles of file folders, binders, etc. Mark Zuckerberg paces around the room.

ZUCKERBERG

Moving on. Who do we have next?

Moskovitz opens a file folder.

MOSKOVITZ

We have a…Jenny Richardson.

ZUCKERBERG

What do we know about Jenny?

MOSKOVITZ

Let’s see. Says here she’s from Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

HUGHES

That’s Pennsylvania Dutch Country, Zuck.

ZUCKERBERG

Nice catch, Hughesy. Okay, so she’s an Amish then, right? Good. Somewhere to start. We wanna get those Amish fingers a-clickin’. So tell me, boys. What’s ad-sales pulling in on the horse-and-buggy front?

 Moskovitz checks the ledger.

MOSKOVITZ

Nada.

ZUCKERBERG

Damn. Strike one. No big whoop. Homerun idea is…oats! Pretty sure these people love the oats.

HUGHES

That’s the Quakers, Zuck.

ZUCKERBERG

Is it? What’s the difference?

MOSKOVITZ

I think…the hats?

HUGHES

Zippers, actually.

ZUCKERBERG

Zippers? Fascinating. How so?

HUGHES

Don’t like ‘em. Don’t want ‘em. Got no need for ‘em.

ZUCKERBERG

Who? Amish or Quakers? Know what? Doesn’t matter. Skip any zipper ads for Jenny. That includes Ziploc and all subsidiaries. Don’t want to take chances. Focus on oats. I know it’s a Quaker thing, but I’m betting every horse-loving Pennsylvanian needs quality oats. Now make me a happy man, Mister M. Tell me we got some badass oats accounts on the books?

 Moskovitz checks the ledger.

MOSKOVITZ

Best I can do is Hall & Oates. Reunion tour at the Starland Ballroom in Sayreville, New…

(flips page)

…Jersey.

 ZUCKERBERG

Good. We can work with that. How far is Sayreville from Lancaster? Is it doable for Jenny?

Hughes pulls out an atlas, flips through the pages until he finds an overview map of the Northeast. He measures the distance with his fingers, checks the scale on the key.

 HUGHES

Looks doable, Zuck.

 ZUCKERBERG

Horse-and-buggy doable?

 HUGHES

I can&r

From: Darius Pogue
To: ”Office List”
Sent: Monday, December 12, 2011 8:39 AM
Subject: Who here at the Yorktown Pennysaver is up for a little Gwar?

Hey gang,

Sigh in relief. This isn’t another email about security software updates. Trust your humble one-man IT department when I assure you that the Yorktown Pennysaver is now a veritable Fortress of Solitude, and that this email blast is of a decidedly more personal nature. It’s sure to be the talk of the office until the steam whistle blows.

“Out with it!” you say? Fair enough. Guess who’s going to see Gwar this Saturday at Hogan’s Hideaway? That’s right. The very same fella who tells you, “don’t panic!” when you’ve got a kernel panic, who converts your JPEGs to PDFs and is a BMF besides. Me! And I’ve got an extra ticket.

So who wants in?

Now I realize some of you will probably have questions before committing. It’s natural. Seeing Gwar ain’t exactly like popping by the Cineplex for some Pixar. It’s an event, one that will quite possibly define your life. So I’ll try to walk any Gwar-dolescents (as I like to call the newbies) through the basics.

First question is obvious: What time? Well, doors are at 8 PM, but you should probably stop by my place around 11 AM so we can prep.

I can hear our favorite Mary Kay spokesperson/administrative assistant Deidre right now. “Prep? Like makeup and stuff?” Little different than that, D. But it’s all par for the Gwar course. We’ll be pouring latex molds for our festering neck boils. Doing a little mace polishing. The requisite codpiece fitting.

I know. I know. The boys in sales love a good codpiece joke, but I assure you, the codpieces are an absolute necessity. You gotta be prepared should you find yourself on the business end of a flail some goblined-up tweaker is swinging willy-nilly. Learned that the hard way during the Scumdogs of the Universe Tour.

Haley, I know you’re hip to all the new bands (I’m gonna get that Atari Fire album you keep raving about), but do you have “Scumdogs of the Universe” on vinyl? I’m betting you don’t. Let me tell you, “Sexecutioner” sounds so much warmer, and with all the lovely crackles and pops laying some ambiance down on “Slaughterama,” you can practically feel the Nazi decapitation.

But as great as those songs sound from the turntable, they sound infinitely better live, when your ears are soaked with blood. Judging from Mike’s fainting spell at last year’s blood drive, I’m guessing I lost him right there. But hold on, Mike. Weren’t you the one who told me The Blue Man Group was “the best show in Vegas?” Didn’t you forward that Gallagher video around? Gwar’s a lot like Gallagher, but instead of washing watermelon juice out of your hair the next morning, it’ll be blood…possibly pus.

Notice I said possibly pus. I stress the possibly. Gwar makes no guarantees in the pus department. They are very clear about this. My apologies if the inclusion of pus, or lack there-of, is a deal-breaker for some. Not much I can do about that.

Now I don’t doubt that Carmen, the consummate copy

It’s true, I haven’t been hanging ’round here much of late. And though I’ve been busy,  it’s not because I’ve been busy. Being busy is never an excuse. That’s something you tell your dentist or your parole officer: “Sorry pal, couldn’t make it in, been busy, but you can dig how that is, right poncho?” Fine for that scene, but it don’t cut it in the blogging biz.

The reason I haven’t been here is because I’ve been elsewhere, peddling my wares to other web sites. Yes, the stain of digital lipstick is all over my collar, but I assure you everything is on the up-and-up. If you don’t believe me, I present the following as evidence:

1. Here I am over at Figment.com, where I’m sharing the opening chapter of The Only Ones, as well as a short story I wrote at the ripe old age of 16. Read both and see how my writing has evolved (devolved?) over the last 18 years. For those who don’t know, Figment is a site where teenagers can go and share their writing. It’s an amazing and inspiring place and I only wish it had existed 20 years ago.
2. Shoot over to Kidsmomo.com and check out their interview of me. They asked me to film a video to introduce myself and I decided to go all out. Keep in mind, there isn’t a single special effect in theentire thing. Amazing, I know. And there’s still time to enter their sweepstakes where you can score a couple signed books,
3. That spooky time of year is once again upon us. The…World…Series! Oh yes, and Halloween is also coming up. In the spirit of the season, I contributed to something called “What Scares You” at the blog “Distraction No. 99.” This is a fantastic collection of tales and inspiration from writers of youth fiction. It was put together by Nova Ren Suma, author of the supremely spooky and lyrical Imaginary Girls. I’m honored to be a contributor. I won’t tell you much about the story, except that it’s designed to paralyze you with fear…and hopefully stunt your growth. Enjoy!
4. Finally, I’ve been spending many hours and thousands of dollars on the latest trailer for The Only Ones. I probably spent more time on it than I did writing the book. I certainly spent all my advance money. Have a look, but be warned. Your life may never be the same again:

Today The Only Ones is released. I’ll be running around reminding everyone of this fact because I want you to read the darn thing. Forgive me if I even show up at your house with a sandwich board and a blow horn. A man must do what a man must do. Now there’s plenty of information about The Only Ones on this web site, and I encourage you to read and watch and listen to it all. But today, the blog will be dedicated to the people who made this book happen and continue to make it “happenin’!”

Most authors include acknowledgements, and it’s always nice to read about the people who helped turn one person’s words into something lovely and tangible and available at your local bookstore. But as an author, choosing acknowledgements can be a bit of a nerve-racking experience. Part of you wants to thank everyone, from the friendly UPS guy who delivered all the marked-up manuscripts to the friendly obstetrician who delivered you into this world. Another part of you wants to cast a light upon the select handful of people who spent hours with the book, giving their best to make it better. It’s the big vs. small wedding debate. Neither is right. The guest list is always hard.

In my book, I went with the “small wedding,” but that doesn’t mean these were the only people who had a hand in the creation of The Only Ones. I’d like to expand the list here:

In July 2009, a painting called The Mainland by Jamie Wyeth sparked my first ideas for the book. In the year and a half of writing and editing that followed, there were countless other inspirations, 99 of which I’ve cataloged on Twitter via a #99inspirations hashtag. You can see them all here.

Cate Starmer, my astoundingly wonderful wife and greatest friend, is also my #1 fan and she’s always the first to read my work. In September 2009, I showed her the opening chapters to what was then called The Lonely Ones and she offered ideas and encouragement and the assurance that she believed in this book, and in me, and in us. She is, as I like to say, a wonder.

Stephanie Sun, then an assistant at Weed Literary and now an agent to be reckoned with, was the next person to read the beginnings of the book. She astounded me when she called it “beautiful” and confirmed that perhaps we had something here.

Elisabeth Weed, the super agent who so valiantly plucked me from obscurity, added to Stephanie’s praise and provided some invaluable suggestions regarding pacing and characterization. Then she boldly took the book to the streets.

Michelle Poploff, a legendary editor who has worked on bestsellers and Newbery winners (and who has written her own books), took a chance

The world of children’s literature is full of generous and supportive people. First and foremost among these are the authors. If they’re competing for shelf space and bestseller lists, they certainly don’t act like it. I’m new to this world, but have been lucky enough to meet and learn from dozens of authors. Kurtis Scaletta has been at this about as long as I have, but it would seem as though he’s been doing it forever. He’s already a seasoned pro. His newest book is The Tanglewood Terror, a beautiful mash-up of classic science fiction, football, bicycle-back adventure, and bittersweet family drama, with a healthy dose of adolescent awkwardness mixed in. It will be released on the same date as The Only Ones: tomorrow! To celebrate the occasion, we decided to interview each other. I’m answering questions on his blog. He’s answering questions here. If you can find a better deal than that, then pin a tail on me and call me a donkey. Because it don’t exist.

Aaron: First off, congratulations on crafting an utterly unique story, a gentle but ominous tale about a plague of mushrooms and a family struggling to hold itself together. And congratulations on your third book in three years (after Mudville and Mamba Point). It’s an astounding accomplishment, especially considering they’re each stand-alone novels set in vastly different times and places.

Kurtis: Thanks. I published my first book at age 40 and I think I was trying to make up for lost time by putting out a book a year.

Aaron: I guess that leads to my first question. In a children’s book industry dominated by trilogies and series, what is it about the stand-alone novel that appeals to you?

Kurtis: Kids love series, no doubt about it. They ask about sequels a lot. I think it’s because they feel really connected to the characters, they make these temporary friends and want to keep seeing them.  But I’m usually focused on a kid in a time of upheaval and transformation. By the end of the book, that kid and the world around him have changed too much to go back and do it again. But I did love series as a kid, too, and I have one in the works… it’s for younger readers than my first three novels so it can be a little more static.

Aaron: The Tanglewood Terror is set in present day Maine, in a world of cell phones and the internet. Yet it also seems to exist in a time when kids were granted more freedom. The characters roam the woods for hours on end. There are none of the “helicopter parents” we hear about.  The wonderful title and cover art communicate the retro aspect of the story, but I’m curious how this notion of freedom and autonomy informed your writing. Was it something other than nostalgia for you? It reminds me of the