Hill Country Stuff (hey, my book, my blog, I likes it)

Hill Country Page

At the page, you'll find all the places you can buy it. eBook (kindle, ePub, PDF) or paper (US and UK).

You'll find the first chapter as well as some nice things that smart people have said about it.

Do yourself a favor and check it. It's fun, cures illness, swears, raises the dead, and disproves the Mayans.

Well, at least two of those things.

Some time with my dark mind

Chad Rohrbacher was kind enough to offer me some space at his blog. I took the reigns and blathered on about Hill Country and other stuff.

Oh, and there's music.

The Dark Mind of R Thomas Brown

Samenification (new and improved, this time with hypocrisy)

So, after worrying (well not really worrying so much as ruminating) over the problem of genius being sucked out of people by over coaching, I spent some time thinking about the possible down-the-line implications of the samenification (if you don't know what that means, I suggest you look up quijibo.)

Seems to me, a very tangible example is suburbia. Now, I have a love/hate relationship with suburbs. I've always lived in them, and really, probably always will. My little town is safe, convenient and the kids seem to enjoy their school (well, as much as anyone can enjoy being institutionalized.)

But, there is a real downside. A soul sucking downside in that I live in Generica. It's full of chain restaurants, chain stores, big box retailers and superstores. Very little local. A couple of restaurants. A bakery that gets way too much of my money. And a toy store. That's about it, really. Other than that, I can drive to most retail centers in a 20 mile radius and go to the exact same stores.

It's mind numbing. It's sad. And a part of me loves it. I know what I'm going to get. They're convenient. Shopping there is easy. So, yeah, love/hate.

And, I think it's all a symptom of the same thing. Those stores have something figured out.what works and have grown because of it. Sure, sometimes the market changes and the behemoth is too big to move, but they seem to be replaced, in time, with some other massive store (or a megachurch. Hey, not judging, but we've got two near us in former grocery stores.)

So, does any of it matter? Yeah, I like convenience AND character. I keep looking for it. It also means I'll never write anything set where I live. I'm just not inspired by it. Convenience is not inspiring.

Anyway, I've bloviated enough on this issue, don't you think? You do? Well, who asked you? Oh, I did? Well, I guess there's that.

Samenification (it's a perfectly cromulent word)

I was listening to the radio this morning, and a golf analyst (don't judge) was talking about the excessive coaching that exists in the sport today. His argument was that, though it created a large number of very good golfers, it destroyed greatness. By coaching uniqueness out of young golfers, and not letting them work out the problems just by providing a foundation and allowing them to play their way to discovery, the system was crushing potential genius. Never allowing the explosion of talent that comes from someone discovering in themselves how to be great.

Now, my golf consists of the annual attempt to make it out the practice tee, where I am reminded of two things. One, I immediately remember that I suck. Two, the next day I'm reminded that I'm not as young as I used to be (curse you muscle soreness and back pain.) But, it got me questioning if that mentality exists in other areas.

Is there such a reliance on experts and coaching among of those driven to success, that the uniqueness that could make them great (or result in glorious failure) is pushed down, leaving more reliable, very goodness?

More specifically, does this exist in writing. I don't think it does. Not yet anyway. There are many voices, some quite unique. There's no gold standard of writing that everyone holds to.

But I can see the avenue for it's development. Writers are not always the most confident people, and standing up to editorial suggestions can be hard. It takes confidence. It takes a blend of that confidence and self-awareness to listen to the critique, so that you can make that combination of fundamentals (which the suggestions will give you over time) and your own genius, if it's there.

Note: ignoring the suggestions, and acting like fundamentals are worthless as you have the spark of genius is foolish arrogance. You may be right, and simply be so wonderful as to make others fall prostrate on the ground and weep at the supernatural beauty of your words. But you might also suck and be a delusional idiot.

So, yeah, I could see writers being so focused on acceptance, that they suppress their voice and become what their coaches tell them is needed. Thus creating a technically correct book, but devoid of originality. Would this results in sales? Well, I'll leave it to you to decide if you think bestsellers are in general works of unique genius, or formulaic very goodness. (Not sarcastic, by the way. This isn't something technical like a golf swing that can be shown to be similar to another. It's subjective, and you make think it's all original.)

So, the conclusion to all this rambling? Like I said, I don't think it's a problem. Right now. It was just a thought that ran across my feeble brain in the car.

I'd love to know what any of you think.

Unless you think I'm an idiot for even considering this. I don't need to hear that. I get that enough from the voice inside my head. He's a sarcastic ass.

Late night chat

Over at his place, John Hornor Jacobs posted a conversation he and I had. Nothing groundbreaking, but it was fun to talk to a writer. It's something I don't get to do often.

Check it out, and also grab the man's boom, SOUTHERN GODS. It's a powerful book. A sure hit for Lovecraft followers, or anyone that enjoys horror with a sense of place.

A chat with John Hornor Jacobs

Too many projects?

Having just finished the last pass on a novel before I get readers opinions, I find myself in that weird place where all the projects I shut out start clamoring for attention. Yes, I know they don't actually animate themselves and argue, but it's a metaphor and sounds a hell of a lot better than "I finished something and my concentration stores are too spent to pick what to do next."

So, for the past week or so, I've been splitting the time among them. Each has its own appeal and challenges. Splitting time among them, just doesn't seem to work for me. I can't get into the story enough, and the other ideas keep popping up when I don't want them (if you don't like me acting like they do things on their own, then get over it.)

Here's a list of the different things:

Resistant Blood: A hobo (traveling worker, not a tramp, thief, beggar to vagabond) in a world that suffers from an air born virus that kills 99% of people. Great walled and domed cities house most of the population, but the few who are resistant to the virus do work in the wild areas outside and on the trains that connect the cities. Their life is full of hard work, raiders, cannibal cults, wandering tribes, a fallen city run by a criminal overlord, a murderer on the rails, and a one city where the workers keep disappearing.

Harbinger: Griggs is an agent of Death. The guy, or whatever, not just the event. He doesn't kill people, but Death works through him to make deaths more likely. Keeps the balance between a grand plan for people, and free will. It's a tough balance that Death keeps, and Griggs helps by being eyes and ears. When he shows up, he knows someone he sees is supposed to die. When he pops into a room, with only one other person, he figures he knows what comes next. Until he sees that the other person is also an agent.

Confabulation: A reworking (complete rewrite actually) of an older story. Henry is sure his wife is in danger. He remembers hearing about a plot to kill her. He just can't recall when he heard it. Simon is distressed that his vision is failing. He has constant bouts of blindness, but doesn't really recall when they happen. Neither man can remember everything, but are certain of the truth. What ties these two men that have never met? Why can't they remember everything? Why do they remember anything? Who are the two men they keep seeing, but can't recall ever meeting? Meanwhile, a groups plots to use these two men to take down a secretive group while one of that groups agents works to discover the source of the false memories.

Father of Mine: Another bit of crime fiction set in Comal Creek, TX. Nate's ailing mother hands him a gun. Tells him she needs him to find the owner. He was a friend of his father's before he died (over thirty years ago.) He asks her why, she just tells him that she made a promise years ago, and she can't take care of it herself. He agrees. Nate tracks the man down and begins to learn more about the father he barely remembers, his mother, and the secrets she couldn't tell him.

I'm also working on a collection of stories featuring John Smith, the former repo agent. Stories have appeared at Shotgun Honey, and another will appear soon in an anthology.

That's the main stuff right now. The hobo seems to be coming out ahead at the moment, but you never know what the day might bring.

More praise for Hill Country

Got this in the mail today. John is a writer that I admire, and feel is one of the future superstars of dark fiction (crime, horror, what have you.) These words from him really made my day.

"Ron writes like grain alcohol burning, blue and hotter than shit. In Hill Country, the story barrels down country highways towards characters hard-bit as nails and rough-and-tumble as they come. Ron's Hill Country is one of the best and freshest new entries into crime fiction today." - John Hornor Jacobs, author THIS DARK EARTH and SOUTHERN GODS

You can get this fantastic work of fiction here: HILL COUNTRY at amazon