The Hating Game

Hello Fire Enthusiasts. How is the year treating you so far?

At the end of last year, I did a little bit of complaining about how I couldn't read the way I would have liked to. With all of the writing I was doing last year, and still am, I could not possibly devote any real time to reading. It's a shame really, because I really love to read.

In any event, I did manage to get some reading done during the holidays. Although I have new books by Patricia Cornwell and Pat Conroy on my radar, I finished the year by purchasing the works of many of our blogosphere buddies. The last one that I read was so good that I thought I might spend a few moments telling you about it.

As you have already guessed, the novel I read was "The Hating Game" by Talli Roland. For those of you who know me well, not to mention know what kind of novels I write, you may be wondering how I came about reading this particular novel. Well, I'm about to tell you; however, let me first allow the official blurb to describe the book's plot:


"When man-eater Mattie Johns agrees to star on a dating game show to save her ailing recruitment business, she's confident she'll sail through to the end without letting down the perma-guard she's perfected from years of her love 'em and leave 'em dating strategy.

After all, what can go wrong with dating a few losers and hanging out long enough to pick up a juicy £200,000 prize? Plenty, Mattie discovers, when it's revealed that the contestants are four of her very unhappy exes.

Can Mattie confront her past to get the prize money she so desperately needs, or will her exes finally wreak their long-awaited revenge? And what about the ambitious TV producer whose career depends on stopping her from making it to the end?"

Okay, now let's get back to how a horror-reading guy ends up reading "The Hating Game". Well, truth be told, I love romantic comedies. An Affair To Remember, Casablanca, Notting Hill and Love Actually are just a few of my favorites. I love these and many more. Yet I don't love every single one of them in this genre, especially if they are simply retreading the same old ground. What I want is originality.

Those aforementioned films had it, and this excellent work of Talli Roland's has it as well.

From the reality television game show subject matter to the strong-willed lead character, I found the story to be fresh and timely. The Hating Game as a show sounds like something we might see with next fall's television line up. I also found the unfolding drama to be well-paced and the twists and turns difficult to anticipate. There wasn't one instance where I felt that Roland had become lazy or had taken an easy way out with regard to plot. Her characters are layered and believable, and I felt as if I knew many of them.

I'd like to talk about writing now. Often, we authors do ourselves a disservice by attempting to show off with our mastery of language. As readers, when this occurs, we can find ourselves "tripping" over words that are either out of place or suddenly several grade levels higher than we had thought we had been reading just paragraphs before. Roland doesn't do this. Her prose is so well-written that it is akin to eating comfort food after a difficult day. It is the perfect combination of education and wit and clarity, as if she agonized over each word.

Another thing that I commend Roland on is the quality of the edit. I found no errors in spelling, grammar or formatting. I have bought other novels from some of our blogosphere friends, and they have had formatting errors which brought down my enjoyment. If there were errors, I was so engrossed in the plot that I didn't notice.

This novel is something special. It is a wonderful piece of fiction, and, once again, much different than other books that I have heard of or read. I found it to be an excellent effort and look forward to seeing what Roland has planned next.

We'll talk soon.

Stylish Blogger Award

Hello, Fire Enthusiasts. Happy Monday! Yes, I know. There's no such thing. I thought I might give it a shot, you know?

Well, perhaps it still can be.

How, you ask? I was blessed by my good friends Carole Gill, from Demon Vampire Horror and J.D. Brown with The Stylish Blogger Award. My thanks to them for having thought of me. I would like to nominate a few of you as well, but first a bit of business. In order to accept this award, I must reveal 7 things about myself:

1) The easy one is the fact that my first novel took twenty years to write.

2) Our cat is named for "Jones" from the film, "Alien". He looks like that cat, too. Likewise, all he does is hide whenever the damned aliens come around.

3) I'll be making my first trip to New York City this year when my son and the Kingsburg High School Wind Ensemble plays at Carnegie Hall.

4) I can go from W*A*S*P, Ozzy Osbourne and Iron Maiden to Barry Manilow and then back to 30 Seconds to Mars in the blink of an eye and dependant upon my mood.

5) I write horror but don't really watch scary movies. I would prefer to watch a romantic comedy.

6) I sing high notes in the Steve Perry (Journey) and Freddie Mercury (Queen) range.

7) I could go weeks without food, a few days without water, but would curl up into a ball and die in hours without music.


And now, without further ado, here are the ten bloggers that I nominate:

A Bourbon for Silvia

Laura Marcella

Jessica Brooks at My Thoughts Exactly

Michele Shaw

Lorelei over at Lorelie's Muse

Jen over at Jennifer Wylie

Chasing the Dream

Almighty Heidi at Aliens Have Invaded My Brain

Alex J. Cavanaugh

The Missing Word

I know it's a little bit of work, but I hope you will have fun with it. Thanks for the light you all have added to my days. Take care and have a great week.

We'll talk soon.

From One Jimmy to Another

Hello, Fire Enthusiasts. How's your Sunday? I just thought I would take a moment to give a little shout-out to one of my favorite Jimmys in the world: Jimmy Page.

Today is James Patrick Page's 67th Birthday and I just wanted to mention it.

I play a little guitar, but mostly for fun. I picked it up too late in my teenage years and have never had time to get better. If there is one in the room, however, it will begin calling out to me until I step over and pick it up. Jimmy Page is one of the reasons why I first thought to strap one across my chest, although I could never hold it as low as he does...nor play it as masterfully.

Although I was born in March of 1969, the year that the mighty Led Zeppelin began to take flight with a massive debut album before the year started, and soon to follow with the brown bomber, Led Zeppelin II, it would not be until 1985 that I would discover them. I was a fan of Def Leppard. I remember people comparing the way they spelled their name with the way Zep did. I thought of Zep as being these old guys who were on their way out as hair metal was on it's way in. Little did I know.

When Phil Collins of Genesis fame played his "Against all Odds" song before a closed curtain, I had no idea that my taste in music was about to be blown wide open. He finished playing to good applause and then suddenly introduced three friends: Robert Plant, Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones. I understand now that their might be a bit of bad blood between Collins and Page over the quality of the set that night, but it doesn't matter to me. When the curtains finally pulled back, and the world seemed to explode in my ears, I simply had to listen.

I've been listening ever since...and The Song Remains The Same.

Thank you, Jimmy. And Happy Birthday.

Paperback Vlog Announcement

A Surprising Treat

Hello, Fire Enthusiasts. It's Monday and that means that my two week vacation is over, and that I am back to work. Many of you have read that I have to get up extremely early for my day job, so you know that I am a little sad that I am back to the grind. On the other hand, after being away for as long as I was, if I didn't get back soon, I probably wouldn't. Am I right?

Therefore, rather than talk about it being Monday, I'd rather discuss what I did for New Year's Eve. No, I didn't drive from California to New York City to watch the ball drop in Time's Square. I didn't drive to Las Vegas to see the band, 30 Seconds to Mars, which I really wanted to do. If my teenagers had been a bit older, we would have done exactly that. I didn't paint my town red, nor did I party the evening away. What's the big deal then, you ask?

Well, it gets back to my previous post. New Year's Eve was my wife's birthday; and it is so every year, in spite of what she may tell you. ;) In any event, what we typically attempt to do is to take some time for ourselves, go to a movie and have a real quality dinner. Long story short, we had a great afternoon/evening. What I really want to share with you, however, is the film we attended.

If you have yet to hear, The King's Speech is a wonderful film about the terrible stammer that practically debilitated the Duke of York (Colin Firth) and father of Queen Elizabeth II. Reluctantly elevated to the throne after his older brother abdicates, freeing him to marry a divorced socialite, King George VI battles through to find his voice with the assistance of an unorthodox speech therapist named Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush).

Weeks ago, this appeared to me to be one of those smart Oscar-worthy films that no one would want to see outside of the Academy; however, every week, this film seemed to be generating more and more positive buzz. It is rare that hours later I find myself unable to stop talking about a film, but it had everything. My friend, the Author Nicole Hadaway, mentioned on her Facebook page that the film had "no dull moments/no wasted scenes" and she couldn't have been more right. I already thought that Firth and Rush were great in everything they did, but there were also awesome performances by Guy Pearce as Edward VIII and Helena Bonham Carter as George's wife. I usually don't like anything that Carter does, but she was brilliant.

In fact, the entire film is brilliant. It has humor, it has wit, it has powerful moments that will bring tears to your eyes more than once. When the screen went dark for the final time, I was actually hoping for another scene. Our audience actually clapped and that rarely happens. Hopefully, this is the year that Mr. Firth walks away with that Oscar that he lost out on last year.

See this movie, folks.

We'll talk soon...

Happy Birthday, Dear

Well, Fire Enthusiasts, it is the last day of 2010. However, rather that spend a few moments reflecting upon what has transpired or what we hope for with the coming year, I simply wish to publicly offer my thanks to my wife.

You see, prior to 2010, neither she or I really knew what was in store for us regarding our time. We were just caught up in the moment. My dream of being a writer was slowly becoming a reality. In February, my crossover horror/Christian novel was released as an e-book. Next came blogging and attempting to get my name out there. Reviews began to trickle in, eventually leading to my working for a local magazine as a reporter. I then started writing for other blogs on top of everything else. We haven't even discussed the fact that nearly every single moment I was social networking. Soon I had to strap an iPhone to my hip as well. Who knew? Did I mention my 10.5 hour day job?

My wife has been understanding as I race home to my trusty laptop each day after work. She has said very little as I plugged myself in and virtually ignore her as well as my "teen aged" boys. I use that phrase because my 12 year old will not be 13 until late January, but he might as well be one, pretty much doing everything that teenagers do...or don't do! We have him and the 16 year old.

Yet, as my novel was just released as a paperback, and will soon be followed by the sequel, the question remains: how long is this trend going to continue? Are we looking at another year of her having to sit alone on the couch while I hold my nose one foot away from a computer monitor, plugged in?

Therefore, as we navigate through this last day of the year, I just wanted to give a shout-out to my wife. She understands that this is my long-dead dream suddenly revived and realized. We usually do not stay out late on New Year's Eve; however, we typically do take time out for ourselves, seeing a movie and having dinner. You see, not only is this the last day of the year, but it is her birthday as well.

So on this day, I say to my wonderful wife: Happy Birthday...

...and thanks for understanding.

To the rest of you: Have a Happy and safe New Year!

We'll talk soon.

Always a tease

4:58 a.m.
“You're kidding!”
“It's true, Candy!” Jane Lynch reassured. “I heard the whole thing!”
“Wow! What I wouldn't have given to see that,” Candace said through rapid breaths, jogging alongside her good friend of more that twelve years. They had been running every day except Friday before work since January. The last name in the office pool had them giving it up by June 1st. It was the $225 dollar pot which helped to keep the women motivated.
“I know. I couldn't believe how lucky I was.”
“Then what?” Candace asked excitedly as they swung left at the Citibank Building from Lincoln Street onto Draper, onto what the locals referred to as “Main Street” which was the very heart of town.
The decorative red brick beneath their running shoes were set at an angle now, seeming to turn with them, or in the very least as a marker to keep them on the course. The Citibank sign before them was also an LED display, giving both time and temperature. It flashed 5:01 a.m. and then 49 degrees Fahrenheit, but neither paid it any mind. This would be the coolest day of the week, and it was cold enough already without having to see actually how bad it was. They just kept up their pace and continued on their way. Shade trees and large blue celebratory banners which hung from blue poles lined the course now on the right; a Mexican Restaurant, pizza joint and other shops on the left.
“He told her everyone was complaining. She hadn't done a thing since they’d been sleeping together, marching about like a queen, treating everyone like she was the new CEO after a hostile takeover.”
“Ain't that the truth?”
Jane continued, “She said some B.S. about how she never realized she’d been doing that. She’d be better from now on...”
“Sure, now!”
“But see, by this time, he's not even listening. It’s over. She doesn't know it yet.”
“Wow!” Candice exclaimed as they jogged from cement sidewalk back to brickwork.
On the right, a tree planter area bordered the next intersection. Most of the streets throughout Main Street were decorated in similar fashion. This particular one contained shrubs, flowers and other greenery kept very well groomed by the Model Drug Pharmacy which was located across from it.
“I haven't gotten to the good part.”
“What?” Candice asked as they crossed Smith Street and continued west. Their usual route took them westward through town where they would eventually cross Draper at California Street and then head back for home. The two friends lived one block from each other and both worked for a large payroll firm in town. They were more like sisters than friends. As their footfalls reached the sidewalk once again, bringing them across the entrance of the Bank of America. They paid little attention to the police cars that sat silent and unoccupied there on the street.
“Her jaw literally dropped when he told her she was fired!”
“Wow!” she exclaimed once again as they reached their normal rest stop between Gino’s Italian Eatery and Apple Dumplin’ Antique store.
It was here that they allowed themselves ten minutes to rest. The area extended its entrance on Draper to the alley that ran behind the restaurants and shops. A sign had been recently erected pointing the way through to the historic old jail that sat behind the newly refurbished Fire Station. A large orange Swedish Dala Horse statue stood before them as if guarding the site. In fact, it wasn't to dissuade, but to invite. Two stone tables and two wood benches sat there encouraging visitors to stop and sit for a while. There were small trees in stone planters, and one fully grown shade tree and four screens installed for holding back the squelching 100-plus degree summer days which arrive all too soon.
“Stupid vacation days! Always happens! Take a day and someone either quits, gets caught with someone in the copy room or gets fired.” Not that the copy room had ever been used for anything other than the occasional mild flirt session.
Jane continued her workout by jogging in place while Candice leaned over, feet spread apart, her hands on her knees to catch her breath beside the Dala Horse. "Then security came in and handed her stuff already boxed up."
“Shoo!” Candice winced with surprise, waving a hand across her face to do away with two flies that had suddenly materialized before her face. She stood upright and stretched her back, raising her hands behind her head. She took a step and a half into the area as something caught her eye. Her left hand went immediately to her mouth and her eyes ballooned as what she was seeing was being made clear. Jane didn’t see it, nor could she hear the faint whimpering over her own labored breathing.
“Then Jack points at the open door in his office and tells her,” Jane continued, still running in place, slipping into a bad imitation of their boss's voice. “'Call my wife! She’s had two lovers herself this millennium.'”
Candice reached out blindly with her right hand and squeezed Jane's left arm, her other hand still frozen against her mouth as if sealing a crack in a dam. It was all that she could do. Never in a million years could she have found the words to describe to her friend the horror that was displayed there in the former alleyway, now all ornate brickwork and tree planters, cement tables and mutilated policemen.
“Hold on,” Jane attempted to continue, glancing down the street, oblivious to the grizzly scene behind her. It was not until she felt her friend’s freshly manicured fingernails begin to dig through her sweatshirt that she started to understand that something might be wrong. She just had no idea how horribly wrong it was until Candace suddenly yanked her forward to share her find. “What’s gotten into you, Candy?” she demanded and then fell silent.
Before them, in the very heart of the space, stood that solitary tree; it poked its canopy between two screens and into the nautical twilight. Before it grew a shrub in a stone planter surrounded by rail ties. Nick Mancuso was in that planter as well. The woman froze. “Jesus!” she whispered, stepping back in shock. Candice Gutierrez never heard it.
Police Officer Nick Mancuso didn’t hear the woman either. He was long past the ability to hear or see or feel anything. His only salvation was that he had been long dead by the time that his head had been wrenched free from his neck and impaled atop a corroded metal spike. It stood there as some grotesque warning, but for just what no one could yet know. Above the head, shoved violently through the screen there hung the rest of him. His outstretched arms reached limply forward just as welcoming as that Dala Horse or the “Valkommen” banners that preceded it. The photo was framed by the famed Kingsburg water tower rising 122 feet high above. In 1985 it had been transformed into a giant coffee pot, decorated with floral motifs in red, blue, yellow and green.
Now this city was being forever transformed.
Jane looked away before the first wave of vomiting struck her. It splattered hard atop the sidewalk, but Candace couldn’t hear that either, thankfully. She stood transfixed by the eyes seemingly staring back at her; the frozen open maw, screaming in silence.

Now that my debut crossover horror/Christian novel is finally available in all formats, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to offer another short teaser. I hope you enjoyed it. I hope everyone can see that my work is graphic when it needs to be without being disgusting. For those not interested in being preached to, I hope you will trust that I incorporate religion without being right in your face there, either.

Thanks to everyone who gives the novel a chance.

We'll talk soon.