This morning, Nick and Ernesto joined me for a race in Griffith Park. (In 1995, I did a 5K there. That turned out to be my last 5K for eleven years.) Small field, very informal. I finished in 25:18. That's an 8:09 pace. Not what I wanted but slightly better than my 1995 time. And I smoked back then. I wonder how my running career might've gone if I'd eased off the Kents sooner.
At today's race, George Takei was Master of Ceremonies. A nice guy, he sat at a table and signed autographs for free. (Many celebs charge.) Naturally we lined up. Nick just turned 30. He had never seen Star Trek and that included the original series as well as the movies. He knew George Takei from the Howard Stern Show. Ernesto knew about George and Star Trek but dug him most from Howard Stern. I overheard a teacher in the line say her students only knew George as Kaito Nakamura on Heroes.
Well, he'll always be senior helmsman of the Starship Enterprise to me. I asked George to please inscribe my picture: "Live Long and Perspire." He laughed and did so, asking me about my running. (He was a marathoner himself, back in the day.) George finished up and I thanked him. As I left, he said, "live long and perspire."
God willing, I shall, and the same to you, Mr. Sulu.
Cheeky Fellow Seeks Cash From Formerly Overweight Writer
Not the musical group from the early 90s. They are neither foreign, nor do they seek money from me via a scam launched with an old email. Nevertheless, I'm being phished via an ancient account belonging to my cousin's hub. Here is the pitch:
I'm in Manila, Philippine right now with my family on Holiday and I'm short on cash right here, I tried to access my account from the cash machines here and it's not working, I went to the bank to withdraw and I was informed that I cannot withdraw money from my account in some countries,that it's network errors, I'm thinking if I could get a quick loan of $1,500 from you or anything you can afford to loan me so that I can clear some little things here and also take a cab to the airport. I promise to refund it as soon as I get back home Fridaymorning, let me know so I can send you my details.
Waiting to hear from you.
I respond:
As you know, I've earned my living for years shooting rabid dogs for the county of Los Angeles.
Due to recent cutbacks, I'm afraid that money has been tight.
I could send you a large jar of change. I don't know if there's $1,500 inside, but the jar
is very large.
Let me know.
Also, I read somewhere that many of the cash machines in Manila operate by
placing sugar cane into a slot. Did you try that?
Yours in the Purity of Our Essence,
JP
The next move is up to Mr. Phish.
Oh, did I mention "formerly overweight?" Yes, I believe I did. My iintermittent fasting diet continues to show results. Last month, I discarded an additional two inches off my waist. I'll weigh myself later today and see where matters rest after two months.
In case you've never seen the Northern Lights, neither has Phish.
Intermittent fast, write short-stores, and chi run, to be specific. This constitutes the bulk of my days. Fast continues into the second month. I overdid it yesterday, because I barely made it to my eight-hour chow block without cheating. Ah, but good old protein did the trick and I'm fine today.
My short story, "Growth," a tale of Hollywood, giant actors, and resentment, was kindly rejected by the venerable Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. On to the next market. Meanwhile, my story of a man involved with a jealous succubus continues to wax and wane in size like the very moon. I like the set-up, but can't seem to locate the ending. More effort, I think.
Today is a running day and I look forward to loping around the perimeter of the Wilson-Harding Golf Course in Griffith Park. On non-running days I used to ride my exercise bike to pump up the cardio. However, I broke a pedal. Now the bike serves as wardrobe stand.
In a few weeks, I'm away to the Pacific Northwest to visit family and participate in a chi running workshop with the big dog himself, Danny Dreyer. Here's hoping I glean some tips to make me a more relaxed, injury free runner.
This film aired on cable not too long ago. Back in the day, my friend Randy and I wrote a screenplay about a Neighborhood Watch in Hollywood. It was nothing like this film, but Randy tried like heck to sell it. (I went back to college.) Nevertheless, I thought The Watch really had it's moments as Ben Stiller and Jonah Hill grill a young prisoner.
After 54 novels and 200 short stories, author Stephen King might've gleaned an insight or two from the writing game. Certainly blogs of all kinds have shared his know-how. (As I am doing now.) Here are a few posts containing writing tips, rules, and guidelines, courtesy of the Man From Maine.
Stephen King's Top 7 Tips for Becoming a Better Writer
Much further down the writing food chain, I've finally sent something out: a tale of show biz, giants and resentment. For a guy determined to publish/place 15 short stories in six months, I'm so far averaging a short story every 30 days. My first offering departed yesterday at 3000 words (approx. 16 double-spaced pages). I'm in motion with the second story, but it's changed radically and I'm still wrestling with a first draft. (But at least I know the ending.) Alas, Dame Life has dropped in with her basket of car-tax-household troubles and time evaporates like whiskey on a drunkard's lips. But I struggle on, as is the way of Mankind.
Yesterday marked the first month of my intermittent fasting whereby I fast 16 hours a day, leaving myself an eight hour chow window. Other than cutting way, way back on sweets, I didn't count calories or avoid carbs. Regardless of what I consumed, I found I ate less.
Exercise consisted of walking and/or running a few miles, stationary cycling, and yoga 3 to 5 times a week. Exercise was always done during fast periods.
After a step on the scale and a stretching of the tape measure, the results are in: I lost two inches off my waist and 12 pounds.
I'm quite pleased and celebrated by eating four cakes. (Just kidding.) I shall continue through August into early September and see what pound-consuming wonders the next month holds.
In January, I weighed 266 pounds as a result of post-op recovery and writing two books in 2015. My waist was a svelte 48.5 inches. All I could wear were shorts with a moon-sized waist and sweat pants. So in February, I started walking and stationary biking, doing what I could. By May, I'd dropped 12 pounds, but then put a few back in June.
Then I heard over at Ace of Spades HQ about this thing called intermittent fasting. As they say over at Nerd Fitness:
"Intermittent fasting is not a diet, but rather a dieting pattern. In simpler terms: it's making a conscious decision to skip certain meals. By fasting and then feasting on purpose, intermittent fasting means eating your calories during a specific window of the day, and choosing not to eat food during the rest."
For the past three weeks, I've been eating during a 6 to 8 hour window every day. The other 16 - 18 hours I don't munch so much as a grape. I exercise 4 to 5 times a week, mostly easy running, always undertaken during the fasting period.
I feel a bit peckish in the morning, but getting busy on the day's stories overwrites such thoughts. Far less junk food passes my lips and I've yet to be hit with the starvation mode munchies.
In three weeks, I've lost nine pounds. I'll post again on this at the month mark, August 7.
Read more of this intermittent fasting business here.
Or check out the amusing and informative Hodge Twins as they chat about intermittent fasting in their street-wise, earthy way.
Author Aims to Place 15 Short Stories in Six Months.
And not for the first time. (That was Ten-in-Six for those who visited here back in 2009.) I haven't published a short story since 2012 and that's too stinking long. So off we go again. To date, I have one story with beta readers, one in first draft, and an writing the first draft on a third. I shall probably relay on Duotrope to help me locate markets. Updates when I place. This time out, I crave a spot in Asimov's Science Fiction. Away, away!
Yes, this horror tale cries out for fresh eyes. Eyes that read and enjoy the story of a grad school party girl who must risk a ghastly death in order to save the world. Lovecraft lovers will enjoy the many references to the "Dunwich Horror." Those indifferent to Lovecraft will enjoy the story anyway. Available in soft cover and fine eBook formats only at Amazon.
Losing some weight, however, can't be beat. Doing a little of both since my April 5K. I've been walking and running three days a week since February. This is the longest stretch of human locomotion since my knee checked out eight years ago.
I've had a bit of calf stiffness and couldn't be happier. (It's something other than the knee.) Ice and throttling back on training have done their work. Nowadays, I run slowly for 3 miles, then yoga it up on the off days. If all goes well, I may venture another 5K in August.
Until such time, my goal is to stay in the running—so to speak—and not worry about speed or time.
On a completely different note, teenagers in a pool two buildings away are playing Marco Polo and shrieking 'ohmygod' as a single word. If I owned an electric eel, and wooden gloves to carry it in, I would truncate this auditory chaos rather quickly.
Thanks to the Founding Fathers for sticking their necks out and declaring independence when it was unclear they could back up such a deed. (I recommend David McCullough's book 1776 if you wish to read how the British kicked the American army off Long Island, chased George Washington from New York, and came very close to mopping up his ragged little force.)
History aside, here are several recollections from July 4th past:
5Ks
Mark up another one today. (Only 3 miles.) Ran around the golf course at Griffith Park along the soft dirt bridal trails where you rarely see a horse while maneuvering past their rounded droppings. Felt good, no injuries, taking it very slow. In the past, there have been runs and walks in:
Close enough for a list. This epic bash saw an entire Hollywood apartment building unite in pursuit of a drunken bash that began around 11:00 AM at the pool, spread from the building, down the block to a bar, back to the building and inside an apartment where it continued until the cops showed up at 3:00 AM. My recollections are fuzzy due to age and staggering drunkenness.
1986
This year, repairs were finally completed on the Statue of Liberty and there was to be a big televised event with more fireworks than Saturday night in the barrio. An old improv friend invited me to a party down near the beach. I'd once had a crush on Lisa. She reluctantly informed me of her gayness. But I still didn't give up, as I'd met women before who were "gay for a day." In any case, Lisa's party was lesbian central. Out of 22 women, only three were straight. One was ill and left early, the other nursed a bad sunburn, and I didn't hit it off with the third. No matter. We all had a grand time watching fireworks over the ocean off Santa Monica. The following year, Lisa moved to Sedona, Arizona with a girlfriend, bought a house, and waited for UFOs to circle Coffee Pot Rock. (I could be wrong about the last part.)
1976
Bi-centennial. A big deal. My sister was attending Western Illinois University. Out in the cornfields, near the Mississippi River, not far from Iowa, stood the little town of Basco. There they made their own fireworks and put on a patriotic pageant every 4th. My girlfriend and I, my sister, and her friends attended. We ended up trashed in some field drinking Grain Belt Beer and watching the fireworks crackle. We all bought tee-shirts that said "Basco 1976." I drove back to the farmhouse my sister was renting, hunched over the wheel, barely able to see.
Horror Book Discount Continues
That's about all the July 4th memories I can salvage for the day , but there's always time to flog a book. Through today and ending Tue. July 5th, Hallow Mass continues to be available in Kindle form for under three dollars. Cool off with a nice chilling horror tale of old grudges, new terrors, and unadorned sorcery. A pleasant weekend to all!
Hollywood Hopes Bigger is Better at the Box Office
Since mentioning BFG yesterday, I've found that size will indeed matter in a pair of movies out in the coming years. This is strange timing, as I've just finished a draft on a short story saluting the big and tall called, "Starsky and Goliath." Meanwhile, coming to the cinema:
Gigantic
Here is conflict, I think.
Yes, Jack and his beanstalk return, this time in a Disney animated musical set for release in 2018. You got your good giants and your bad giants, though it's tough to beat Attack on Titan for creepy colossi. (Hajime Isayama's popular manga-animated series-video game-film is the benchmark for big and bad. I've spoofed it and enough on that.) I have an odd feeling Gigantic will veer off in a more peppy direction. Nathan Greno of Tangled fame is parked in the director's chair.
Pacific Rim 2: Maelstrom
Mecha. Would you agree?
With a new release date of February 23, 2018, this sequel to the 2013 kaiju vs. mecha mashup has Steven S. DeKnight directing and, I'm guessing, enough new kaiju and mecha to keep fans as happy as large people with ample food.
On the subject of releases, my horror novel Hallow Mass will be discounted in Kindle form for the 4th of July weekend. Save, save, and, I say, save $4.00 beginning today at 8:00 AM Pacific Time and continuing through Saturday, July 2 when a tale of obligation in the face of terror will be available for .99 The savings continue Sun. and Mon. July 3 and 4 with a $2.00 discount, ending Tue. July 5. Snag your copy and follow the adventures of party girl and reluctant wizard Mercy O'Connor.
A famous director and a book about nice giants. Is it enough?
Giant Film OK But Fails to Meet Expectations
Based on a novel by Roald Dahl, the i09 review explains that:
". . . The BFG is about a young orphan named Sophie (Ruby Barnhill) who is taken from her London home by a big, friendly giant (a performance capture Mark Rylance). The BFG, as she begins to call him, takes her to a magical world where he collects and manipulates dreams. Sophie realizes that, despite his size, she and The BFG share some insecurities, and solving those becomes something the pair embrace with all their heart."
Directed by Steven Spielberg for Disney, the reviewer felt that such a powerhouse lineup should result in a powerhouse film. But as we know, past performance is no guarantee of future results. Read the whole thing.
Horror Book Discount Starts July 1
Tomorrow! Canada Day! Throughout the 4th of July weekend, Hallow Mass will be available in Kindle for discounts ranging from $2.00 to $4.00. Who will win the sorcery duel atop Sentinel Hill? A diabolical warlock or a grad school party girl? Take advantage of this unique offer while it is still unique, before the bloom is off the rose, the paint off the car, the fur off the cat.
A Turn to Established Authors Aids in Battling Writer's Block
For me, writer's block does not involve a blank screen. It manifests itself in page after page of unreadable word chum. So I decided to keep open on my desk various books from a variety of successful authors. When in need of a description or character trait or fresh metaphor, I turn to these scribes for inspiration. For instance, I was trying to describe my protagonist and read this passage from Charles Bukowski's short story, "The Most Beautiful Woman in Town."
"Cass was the most beautiful girl in town. [Half] Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that would not hold her."
I'd probably have written, "Cass was real good looking and sexy."
In any case, I wrote nothing so poetic, but I did think of a decent description and moved on from there.
A variety of styles, themes and genres comprise the eight books I'm currently using for inspiration:
The Most Beautiful Woman in Town and Other Stories - Charles Bukowski.
Glue - Irvine Welsh
The Exorcist - William Peter Blatty
Elmore Leonard's Western Roundup # 3 Valdez is Coming and Hombre - Elmore Leonard.
Animation Ace Pens Graphic Batman Novel Based on Real Life Events
Back in the day at Warner Bros., I recall Paul Dini describing the beating he took at the hands of two muggers. He was pounded pretty good. As is the way of violence, it lingered in his life for decades. But Dini has finally found a way to turn the attack to good use. He's written a graphic novel built around his experience and its aftermath. Twenty-three years later, according to the LA Weekly, "in Dark Night, Dini tells his tale in a way that connects the trauma to the crime fighters and criminals who lived in his [TV animation] work."
With art by Eduardo Risso, Dark Night:A True Batman Story depicts the Caped Crusader "as the savior who helps a discouraged man recover from a brutal attack that left him unable to face the world."
The Weekly article feels the story "benefits from the perspective of years past. Says Dini, 'I had to go beyond it and I had to reach this point of, I survived and that's enough."
In addition, ". . . Dini wasn't just better able to revisit the attack but also he could see the benefit of sharing his story with others. 'I began thinking, maybe there are people who have gone through things like this, or similar tragedies, and that's arrested their life in some way,' he says. 'Maybe this could be a way of telling people that if someone life me could get through a situation like this, then they could, too.'
As the months zip past like tumbleweed in a derecho, the book trailer for my lampooning of Fifty Shades of Grey continues to attract eyeballs. The text that has been called, 'completely cracked' by Bookangel quietly awaits new readers. Learn for yourself the secrets of the Trap Room and the choices made by young, innocent Anna Ironhead
Not to crow excessively, but here is another Bookreels screen grab of 50ZG holding down the pole position in the Humor category,
Add caption
Tomorrow will see the arrival of the latest Hallow Mass book trailer. Actually, two trailers in the next week or so. Somehow trailer three will be released before two. But that is a mystery not worth delving into.
During Vietnam, he volunteered for dangerous assignments,
operating far behind enemy lines.
After the war, he battled drugs and
alcohol.
Eventually, he sobered up and went to work for a vending
machine company.
For many years, he traveled in a van around Los Angeles fixing coffee and soda machines.
Now imagine knowing TWO men with the exact same history. (But different vending machine companies.)
I was honored to be friends with such a pair. They came into my life at different times out in California and it was eerie how their backgrounds meshed in such odd intimate ways. Once I introduced them to each other at a party, figuring they'd have lots in common,
but after a few polite minutes they separated.
They'd experienced stranger things.
The Rockpile and Dak To: 1966 - 1968
A Marine, Kurt initially served in Bravo Company, 3rd Recon Battalion in 1966. Wounded twice, he was stationed in I Corp in northern South Vietnam monitoring enemy forces infiltrating across the DMZ. By early 1968, Kurt was operating out of Khe Sanh, running patrols in Laos along the Ho Chi Minh Trail on operations so secret that Americans who died there were never officially acknowledged. Kurt had extended his service to go to Vietnam. He rotated home before the siege, returning to America only to be confronted in a bus depot by a man angry over the war. (The angry man didn't fare well against Kurt.)
T.J. originally fought with the 12th Infantry on Operation MacArthur near Dak To. He loathed the brutal randomness of combat—here one second gone the next and decided his odds would be better in the LRRPs (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol). Instead of waiting to be hit, TJ crept
around North Vietnamese base camps in the Central Highlands, calling in air and artillery strikes, picking off sentries, and making the enemy nervous. He returned to serve out his last few months at Fort Knox, conducting tours of the U.S. Gold Reserve. One night while watching television he started shaking and broke into tears.
In 2002 I made a business trip to Vietnam. I brought Kurt back a little Buddha and some red clay from Khe Sanh. TJ collected Buddhas the way some people collect Pokemon cards. So I picked him out a honey in Saigon: a big, fat happy Buddha, smiling like he'd just won the Power Ball, holding up the Pearl of Knowledge.
In any given year roughly 250,000 speculative screenplays circulate around Hollywood, written for free by someone with a dream and a keyboard. Perhaps 50 will be purchased. That means 249,950 untold stories will silently wither, never to stimulate our imagination. But that Darwinian process ends here. Write Enough! is committed to resurrecting moribund scripts from the Hollywood Slush Pile, drawing on a veritable Marianas Trench of passed over stories for a peek at what might have been made, written by those who might've been paid.
Attack on Titian
Resentment bubbled inside Joto Mate Kudasai like Icelandic magma. The Japanese artist erupted in rage at any mention of Hajime Isayama's runaway hit property, Attack on Titan. Isayama's one-shot comic had blossomed into an animated TV series, video game and an upcoming feature film. Kudasai's own attempts at manga had met with indifference. His series, Misty Big Eyes, about a little girl with huge saucer eyes, strange destructive powers, and a lack of maturity, impressed no one. Kudosai's compositional skills were derided by other artists, and once referred to as, "Stick figures drawn by a crazy man on fire."
Kudasai Counterattacks
Falling back on his knowledge of the Italian Renaissance, Kudasai resolved to "jump the queue" and write a successful screenplay by ripping off Isayama. Joto Mate would then enjoy the sweet nectar of success based on a rival's material. (A note: while close in age, Isayama knew nothing of Kudasai, which only inflamed Joto Mate even more.)
Locking himself in his room, chain-smoking, foregoing all pleasures including robotic sex and Silent Library, Kudasai worked on his screenplay.
Cruelty of the Giants
A blatant rip-off of Attack on Titan, Kudasai's work featured young soldiers in a unit called the Commissary Corps who were trained to battle cannibalistic giants threatening the existence of humanity. In Kudasai's dense version, the giants would force human victims to pose as models for charcoal sketches. Afterward, the victims were devoured, neatly avoiding any studio fees. Later, the giants rendered the sketches into sensual paintings with bright, lively tints reminiscent of the early works of Venetian painter Titian. Their loud wine and cheese parties kept humanity up to all hours and resulted in poor work force production. Only the Commissary Corps, consisting of hyper-emotional, androgynous teenagers, could save the day.
The Hard Streets of Tinsel Town
With his screenplay completed, Kudasai mailed his work to all the major American studios. Unfortunately, he wrote both cover letter and screenplay in Japanese. This resulted in a cool reception. Convinced that Isayama had hired underlings to steal Attack on Titian before it could reach the executives, Kudasai traveled to Hollywood and attempted to deliver his opus in person. A man screaming in Japanese, waving a screenplay outside a studio, is not as uncommon in Los Angeles as one might think. Nevertheless, Kudasai was rebuffed. Lost, alone, unable to speak English, too broke to return home, with no marketable skills, Kudasai wandered the length and breadth of California. Eventually, he found work as head of the State Water Resources Control Board.
What happened in the room when Animaniacswas pitched? Abbey Fenbert over at The Toast speculates on the keen interplay between creator (represented in the article by "The Animator") and executives as the suits struggle to grasp the purpose and reason of characters with baloney in their slacks. Here's a sample:
"THE ANIMATOR: Did I not explain that Animaniacs is a vaudevillian pastiche? There is no fixed plot, structure, or mythos. Settings and characters leap the time-space continuum with the Warner siblings as the only line of continuity.
For example, let's say Death comes for Wakko at a Swedish meatball-eating contest. Yak and Dot riff on Bergman as they annoy their way out of the bureaucracy of mortality, at which point we shift to Dot's Poetry Corner for a little rhyme time, then onward to the heart of the jungle where we visit Flavio and Marita, a pair of married Italian aristocrats. Who are hippos. Other episodes might see the Warners fighting Captain Ahab, or Chicken Boo becoming a sheriff. Anything's possible.
EXEC #2: Yeah. . . I'm wondering if maybe it's all a little too possible? Establishing limits is an important part of world building.
THE ANIMATOR: Tooncraft defies limits. The art of animation is the constant rearranging and resifting of the lines between illustration and creation. Yak, Wakko, and Dot embrace their cartoon heritage and its antic, violent traditions. Kids will dig it. "
As regards Hallow Mass, reader Francis W. Porretto said the following:
"This little novel is such wonderful fun, **and** so effective a horror story in the Lovecraftian vein, that it's almost impossible to do it justice."
If I wore a hat at this moment, I would be tipping it to Francis. To read more of his 5-star review, or pick up a copy, go to this spot on the fine Internet.
This Friday, the Hollywood Slush Pile examines Attack on Titian, an attempt by artist Joto Mate Kudasai to capitalize on the success of Attack on Titan by promoting his own version of the successful franchise. His screenplay involved young soldiers battling cannibalistic giants with a flair for Venetian arts styles of the 16th century. Did Kudasai's obtuse vision survive the leap from manga pages to the silver screen? Check back on May 27 for the jaw-dropping details.
My second book trailer for Hallow Mass should be up by next week.This version will be more colorful and include a complimentary quote from the Kirkus Review. At such time, it will join my other book trailers in the YouTube Cornerstone Media section.
And while you're out and about on the Web, checking this and that, stop by my Amazon page for a peek at fine eBook and paperback selections.
Another Untold Story From the Hollywood Slush Pile
In any given year roughly 250,000 speculative screenplays circulate around Hollywood, written for free by someone with a dream and a keyboard. Perhaps 50 will be purchased. That means 249,950 untold stories will silently wither, never to stimulate our imagination. But that Darwinian process ends here. Write Enough! is committed to resurrecting moribund scripts from the Hollywood Slush Pile, drawing on a veritable Marianas Trench of passed over stories for a peek at what might have been made, written by those who might've been paid. Today we consider a 2015 submission entitled, NCIS: Yosemite.
Sailors are turning up slain in Yosemite National Park and it's up to the crack investigative team of the Naval Criminal Investigative Services to find out who, or what, is leaving our bluejackets deader than a sequel to Battlefield Earth.
Quiz Peters was alone.
The 28-year old unemployed student held a Master's Degree in Spittoon Art and $64,000 in student loan debt. He lived in a small room in Burbank, California, upstairs from a urine bank. In the fall of 2013, his girlfriend left him for a man who sold bagged oranges on freeway off ramps. Unemployed, except for the money brought in by a supervisory position with Americorps, Peters' life revolved around his smart phone, Amazon Prime, and NCIS. Wearing headphones to drown out the constant downstairs flushing, Peters devoured episode after episode of the popular police procedural, year after year, Los Angeles to New Orleans. He loved the characters, especially the forensic tech with mad skills and a quirky personality. But he hated the fact that the show was not included free in the Prime members catalogue. Each episode required a separate purchase. Peters resented paying $1.99 a pop. Then one afternoon, an epiphany: what if NCIS were a film? A film with a crime so cunning, that it's resolution would ensnare viewers like himself to watch over and over again? A film included free in the Amazon Prime members catalogue?
Could Robert McKee Hold the Answers?
Peters called CBS but couldn't get past the automated answering system. He trolled Reddit NCIS bulletin boards, seeking allies. He Tweeted. He drove past Fox, Universal, and Warner Bros. studies, yelling his ideas out through a bullhorn. He stalked Jeff Bezos and spent several months in jail.
Quiz Peters finally realized he would have to strike the spark, light the match, stuff a flaming possum into the gas tank of Hollywood. He would have to write the script himself.
Inspired, Peters took screenwriting courses online. He read Syd Field and Robert McKee. He took lessons from a man in a park who had once worked on The Last Airbender. Completing a story outline, character descriptions and pages of sample dialogue, Peters, after several months, finally typed FADE IN.
In his story, yes, U.S. Navy personal were being found dead in Yosemite. But Peters became side-tracked by making all the characters quirky. The Supervisory Special Agent, the Special Agents, and the Medical Examiner dressed as Klingons, or nursed a desire to live as a baboon, or spent hours online flaming fellow geeks over plot points in Attack on Titan.
Almost as an afterthought, Peters scattered identical clues around each murder scene. Whether near Nevada Falls or atop Half Dome, crude signs in poor English would be uncovered saying, "Enemy bears no do this." From there, the plot decayed rapidly into an uprising by quirky bears with the Act III climax occurring at both a naval facility on Coronado Island and Comic Con.
Peters was unable to place his script with an agent or producer. On one occasion, a studio script reader came to his home and struck him. Wounded by the cruel, uncaring response to his work, Quiz Peters retreated back into Amazon Prime. He has since moved to Flan, New Mexico and is rumored to be living above a dung bank. But now a lost tale has finally been told.
Other Untold Stories From the Hollywood Slush Pile
As we leave Dream Land, feel free to check out my horror novel, Hallow Mass over at Amazon. I'm on good terms with Jeff Bezos, as far as I know. Pick up a copy of the book that reviewer David I. Johnston called a "fun . . . fast-paced updating of the Lovecraft mythos."
Golden Age Girls Take Center Stage in Comic Book Roundup
Most know of Wonder Woman, but how many recognize Namora, or Miss Masque or Fantomah? Rafa Rivas is your go-to guy. Over at Ralph Dibny, the World-Famous Englongated Man, Rafa presents, for your enlightenment, a most complete, extensive listing of female comic heroines from the fabled Golden Age of Comics (1936 to 1953). Says Rafa:
"A little context is necessary. The Golden Age of Comic Books coincided with the Hays Code, which moderated the amount of violence or sex (or even cleavage) movies could shows, and was enforced from 1934 to the late 1950s. Since pulps and comics were largely uncensored back then, they became the biggest outlet for that kind of content. And the fastest way for publishers to serve it was drawing women in Tarzan or Flash Gordon mini-costumes beating thugs."
Rafa takes us back to the beginning of the last century and the female heroines who appeared in the newspapers. Rivas cites early trailblazers such as Connie Kurridge and Sheena, Queen of the Jungle, who Rafa refers to as:
"Mother of all Superheroines!
To [artist] Will Eisner's credit, Sheena is not only the first jungle girl, but the first super heroine, and since she was created in 1937, she [was] also older than Superman. A great start for female superheroes. She got her own book in spring 1942, a season before Wonder Woman got hers."
Sheena once again out on a limb.
It's a long article, but with plenty of artwork and a trove of information. Give it a gander.
And while you're out gandering, do stop by Amazon and take a peek at Hallow Mass. Now available in eBook and paperback, my latest horror novel—according to one review—"manages madcap and horrible elements with an almost straight-faced insouciance."
Clearly, this book is being read by people who use 'insouciance' in their reviews. Join those skilled in employing a French word for breezy indifference today!
The last week has been miserable as I battle congestion and drowsiness brought on by medication and the inability to sleep with my sinuses clogged. Yesterday, I dozed away in front of the television. Waking up periodically, twice to change stations, I can accurately list my viewing activity:
Hallow Mass back cover. You can read it better on the page.
Bookish Community Responds to Hallow Mass Giveaway
In less than a month, over a thousand readers requested a free signed copy of my just-released horror novel. 15 have been selected by all-wise algorithms and will receive their copies soon. This time around, Goodreads has favored the Commonwealth with six winners in Great Britain, three in Canada, one in Australia, leaving four in the U.S.A. A welcome to all and I hope you enjoy the book. Comments on Goodreads and Amazon are appreciated. Even a brief "loved it" and/or "hated it" line is sufficient.
Horror Novel Now Live
All who pre-ordered Kindle versions should've been notified that their books have been delivered. So I've been assured by Amazon authority. Those ordering paperbacks—such as book resellers—will have to wait a few days, but time passes swiftly in the digital age and the hours will fly past like a great robin.
At today's race, George Takei was Master of Ceremonies. A nice guy, he sat at a table and signed autographs for free. (Many celebs charge.) Naturally we lined up. Nick just turned 30. He had never seen Star Trek and that included the original series as well as the movies. He knew George Takei from the Howard Stern Show. Ernesto knew about George and Star Trek but dug him most from Howard Stern. I overheard a teacher in the line say her students only knew George as Kaito Nakamura on Heroes. 
Well, he'll always be senior helmsman of the Starship Enterprise to me. I asked George to please inscribe my picture: "Live Long and Perspire." He laughed and did so, asking me about my running. (He was a marathoner himself, back in the day.) George finished up and I thanked him. As I left, he said, "live long and perspire."
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