Sunday, June 19, 2016

Martinus Publishing: The Future



I'm sorry that I have been so silent as of late.  Work and family life continue to keep me busy, and it is getting hard to find time for blogging.  So, I'd like to take a few minutes to assure everyone that I'm still alive and well, and that I am in the process of evaluating certain aspects of my life.  One large part of that is my publishing pursuits.

The last three and a half years of Martinus Publishing has been an up and down roller coaster.  There have been highs and lows, positives and negatives.  It has been a lot of fun a times, and bothersome as hell at others.  I've met some really great writers, and discovered some amazing talent.  Throughout the entire process, I only wished I could have done more for the great contributors whose work I published.

First, let's get this speculation out of the way (again).  Martinus Publishing is not closing.  I know, some writers keep asking "if" or "when" I'm going to shut down, and "can I please have my story back because you, like, aren't publishing it fast enough."  Okay, I'm sorry if that came off as insensitive, but that's how a few writers have come off, and it's also why several Martinus Publishing anthologies are a few stories short.  I try to fit 20 tales in each anthology, though on occasion I'll have someone pull out for one reason or another, and about half the time it's because they don't realize what it takes to put one of these collections together.  I understand their frustration in some cases, especially when we're talking years between publication, but a few people started getting antsy a few months after their stories go accepted, even before submissions ended sometimes.  You can say I've had the pleasure of working with writers possessed of a myriad of temperaments.

Martinus Publishing is here to stay, but in order for that to happen, I have to scale back a bit and rethink certain projects.  First of all, any anthology that has not performed well in the past 6 months will be cut.  This means that Life of the Dead, and To Hell with Dante, will both be discontinued at the end of July.  Unless one of those titles miraculously sells big in the next 60 days, they must be retired.  There's no sense letting them sit there gathering virtual dust.  Others will join them at the end of 2016.  No sense carrying around dead weight.

Secondly, I'm afraid I must announce the cancellation of The Secret Life of Ghosts.  This project has been on the rocks for months, with multiple writers pulling out due to the understandably long wait.  I apologize to everyone who still has stories pending in this collection.  I thought of putting together a shrunken collection, though I don't believe the anemic volume would make back enough to cover the cost of cover art, which to date remains uncommissioned.

Third; Altered Europa remains in the works.  I still have to find time to give it a proper editing, and I need to get cover art drawn up, but I want this anthology to happen.  It will be hard, but somehow I will make it happen.  Though it may not be released until fall/winter.  Please be patient, but if anyone can't wait I'll understand if they want to pull out at this juncture.

Fourth;  I am in full development for a new "Author Spotlight" series, which will feature a few of Martinus Publishing's more popular and prolific authors, those I've worked with for years and feel deserve a solo shot to advertise their work.  Right now, I'm starting out with two particular writers whose work I always love to read, but I'll be adding more to the series if the first couple of collections are a success.  Stay tuned for more about these special ebook only collections in the coming months.

So, I hope this has been informative, and as my life continues to evolve I hope to bring Martinus Publishing back into prominence.

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Martinus Publishing Author Spotlight Series



It's hard to believe that it's already April, and next week I'll be turning 36.  There is so much to be done, and with the latest Martinus Publishing releases being largely overlooked and under-bought, I feel the need to finally get something new moving.

Over the next few months, Martinus Publishing will be releasing a series of single-author mini-anthologies.  These will be e-book only collections, featuring short stories by some of my favorite and most prolific authors.  The collections will contain several stories that have been previously-released in past MP anthologies, as well as some new, never before published stories.  This will give readers the opportunity to check out more stories from individual writers.  I'm calling these the "Martinus Publishing Author Spotlight Series," and they'll be bargain priced at only 99 cents each!  Anyone can afford that.

The first in our spotlight series will be a collection of my own stories, which I'm cynically calling "Escapist Garbage."  I feel it's time that I finally put something of my own out into the market again, and this sampler has a cross section of my entire writing career, with 2 never before seen pieces, along with some old favorites.

So, for those of you who are ready to read more of my writing, order yourself a copy of Escapist Garbage today!


Monday, March 21, 2016

Sharing My Favorite Things...

Here it is, the second day of spring, and it's snowing.  What do you expect for Maine?  So, today I find myself a bit under the weather, both figuratively and literally, as my throat is sore and I'm feeling a bit flushed.  It's a dreary day all around.  What better time to ramble on about myself?

I know a few of you still read this blog, though I don't post nearly enough to expect a dedicated following.  While I'm slowing coming out of my post-divorce rut, I still have a long way to go.  You don't get over something like that overnight, but there is light at the end of the tunnel.  Mind you, it may still be a few years before I'm truly myself again.

In life, I am sometimes seen as standoffish, or distant.  It comes from my introverted personality, which is a core part of who I am, and not something I can turn on and off. For the longest time, I am kept to myself.  Though at times I am able to expose bits and pieces of myself through writing or online exposure, it is not so easy to put myself out there, or share what lurks inside my heart.

Going into my personal life, there are times I have found it particularly uncomfortable, scary even, to reveal myself, my like and dislikes, my favorite things; that which I most enjoy.  Or rather, I find it difficult to share what I like with those who are closest to me.  With strangers?  Sure, I can say I like xyz.  But when it comes to those who are important to me, with those I love the most, there are times I am afraid to share.

I remember when I was growing up, I would sometimes feel embarrassed to share what I was doing with my parents.  I would shut off the television or record player when they came around.  I would pause a video game and turn the screen off, so as not to be asked what it was I was watching or doing.  I wasn't even doing anything they'd find objectionable; I just felt silly letting them know.  Don't ask me why.

In later life, as I grew up and got married and had kids, I started to feel a little more willing to open up.  I shared my activities with my wife, though in many cases she wouldn't enjoy what I was doing.  After we had kids, she lost interest in the seemingly insignificant things that I enjoyed, though she never really cared that I did them, except on occasion when she'd say they were either boring or stupid.  It didn't hurt me at the time, because I grew accustomed to doing things by myself again—and so the television programs I loved the most and the games I liked to play, and the hobbies and projects I played around with all ended up being done in private, away from prying eyes.  I can't count the hours I spent in my office watching Doctor Who or Stargate, or some other damn thing when I didn't feel like writing.  Or the hours I spent working on my cars out in the yard.  Or the time I spent working on watches, or guns.  Or the odd hour I spent playing some "boring" video game like Sid Meier's Civilization.

I won't complain that my ex-wife drifted away from me.  That's all over now.  But I find that I still have a problem sharing my life with certain people.  It may seem stupid, but the shows I watch, the games I play, the stuff I do for fun; it's all an integral part of who I am, and sharing that can be scary, especially when the person you're sharing it with is important to you, and you want to spend time with them, and it can hurt when they say "I can't get into that."  If they say it enough, it ends up being a rejection of who I am, and so I return to my familiar pattern of hiding and doing things by myself.

Okay, maybe I'm getting a bit carried away here, but I'm feeling feverish, so cut me some slack.

Overall, I am a sensitive fool, who keeps everything to himself because he doesn't want anyone's rejection to hurt him.  It's just who I am.

Yeah, so the point of all this comes down to something quite simple, and only really applicable to those close to me.  It is an effort for me to share things.  Something as trivial as a song, or a movie.  So, when I take this leap, to share something that I enjoy, please try to realize how big a move that is on my part, how much I'm putting myself out there.  Understand that my wanting to do something with you is special, as I'm someone who has spent a lifetime enjoying things alone.  Please know how rare you are, if you have the opportunity to have me ask you to sit down and watch something with me, and humor me if it's not something you're accustomed to, as I have done for those few people who are important to me.  I remember many shows I would never have watched, if not for my kids or ex-wife, or someone else special to me, who wanted to share.  That's what relationships are all about.  Sharing.  Because what's the point of being with people who are so alien in their tastes that they can't tolerate each other's favorite things?


Damn it, I really feel like watching Doctor Who about now...

Saturday, March 12, 2016

We Were Heroes Interview: Gary Budgen

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" is now available, and to help promote that  release we're running interviews of various contributors.


MTI:  Today I'm interviewing Gary Budgen, who contributed "Exile." Thank you for being here.


Starting off, could you tell our readers a little bit about yourself?

GARY BUDGEN:  I grew up and live in London, UK, where I have spent most of my life except for a couple of stints away at universities in Norwich and Staffordshire. I live with my partner and daughter in north-east London but originally come from the other side of the river in south-east London; that has no significance to anyone except people who live in London. The best expression of this is on the first page of Angela Carter’s novel Wise Children. I’ve been writing fiction for years and have a fair amount of short fiction published. I like writing science-fiction, slipstream, horror and fantasy. A few years ago I took a Master’s degree in Creative Writing at Middlesex University.

MTI:  Now, getting down to business; what first compelled you to weave fiction, and what's your favorite type of story to write?

GB:  I remember being under five and going to school. On the first day I wrote a story about a robot. I asked if I could write another story, it didn’t seem like work to me. It never has. At primary school I wrote stories, plays, comics; people seemed to like them so I realized it was something I could do. As life has gone on I’ve realized that it is something I couldn’t NOT do. I need to do it to make sense of the world. My favorite type of story to write is one where as I’m writing it I begin to get a feeling that it means something much more than when I started, that perhaps, in there, there was something I’ve been trying to say for a while. The story itself could be in any genre but I do have a love of slipstream or at least genre fiction which is in some way aware of its own devices. Good fantastic fiction to me is always, in some sense, also about the nature of the fantastic.

MTI:  Tell me, if you had to pick just one author who has influenced or inspired you, who would it be?

GB:  Well, without doubt, Allen Ashley, prolific short story writer and editor. His ‘Once and Future Cities’ is an exemplar of a certain type of slipstream fiction that I love. I’ve got to know Allen over the last few years in Clockhouse London Writers and he has been very supportive of my work. However it feels slightly dodgy picking someone I know, so I hope you don’t mind if I cheat and mention another writer: Barrington J. Bayley whose short story collections ‘The Knights of the Limits’ and ‘The Seed of Evil’ were something that made me reconsider what science-fiction could be about.

MTI:  Your story, The Exile appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

GB:  First of all it’s a great theme for an anthology. I love the idea of what happens to superheroes after the adventures have ended, or they think they are. The places in the story are real. The Isle of Sheppey is an hour’s drive from London, but is a world in itself. I spent a lot of time there as a kid on holiday. The Church of St Thomas is so isolated it could be at the end of the world so I’ve always found it magical. The other side of the island is where the holidaymakers go. It was thriving up until the ‘80s but has declined as people have gone on cheap holidays to Spain, Greece etc. It is fairly run down now although I still like visiting. Somewhere in my head I always feared I might end up retiring there to some shack, a lonely old man who spent his days writing and evenings in the pub. I put that situation at the heart of the story. But this old man is someone who was once extraordinary. And there will always be one last adventure.

MTI:  Who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

GB:  That’s hard to narrow down. Does Man-Thing count? I love Steve Gerber’s stuff from the seventies. And I love superheroes. I was an avid collector of American comic-books when I was a kid and lots of the characters have a real place in my heart.  

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

GB:  To be able to breathe underwater, then set off to explore the oceans.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

GB:  I’ve been trying to work on a novel while at the same time keeping up writing short fiction.

MTI:  Other than Exile appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

GB:  There are a fair few stories coming out in various anthologies. I list them on my website: https://garybudgen.wordpress.com/. What I’m most excited about is that Horrified Press are bringing out a collection of stories of mine. Hopefully this will be published in early 2016.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good tv lately?

GB:  I’ve watched a lot of Doctor Who with my daughter lately. Enjoyed the first series of True Detective. Utopia was great too. River, a UK detective series, was also very good.

MTI:  How about music?

GB:  Music has always been important to me. Ska, reggae, soul-music, jazz, garage-rock.

MTI:  Can you name three movies that you could watch over and over again and not be bored?

GB:  Melody (1971), Quintet (1979), Dark City (1998)

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?  (If you'd like to share a few paragraphs or a page of writing, this could be a good place for it.)

GB:  This is from the opening story of my forthcoming collection. The story was originally published in M-Brane Science Fiction.

Salt Cellar
Because you love me you are going to have to kill me and eat me. You mustn’t be sorry. I would not have you being sorry. I would not have it any other way. 
            This morning I watched Neptune rising, blue, flecked with ice geysers, like the pupil in the eye of a god with a stigma. It had seemed magnificent once. I waited before I turned, knowing that once I did, once I saw you, the glory before me would shrink to insignificance. I had come to Triton for the awe of the outer planets, and found instead the intimacy of your embrace.
            So I turn and look. You are atop the hillside that I think of as our place. The great dome of your carapace fills the short horizon. Your shell is the blackest void, sucking in light, pulling the stars to it. Then you touch me with your mind as you have done every day since we found each other. Sometimes you have granted me visions of your home world, light years away, the liquid metal oceans and cities that rise up in crystalline knots. But today it will be past lovers. It will be a lesson.
            Your courtship is majestic, a work of art. When the final moment comes your mates give up their psyche to you and you both rise through the ice beauties of n-dimensional mathematics. There is a moment of communion. Their philosophies, theories, memories and pleasures will be passed onto your children. And when you are seeded you feel the urge don’t you? If you were to deny it you would die. It’s all right. I understand. It is an itch that can only be scratched in one way because however godlike you are your children need physical as well as spiritual nourishment. So in ecstatic misery you consume the bodies of your lovers.
#
And I am sitting in a café in the East End of London near my studio and Stephen is telling me that he is leaving.
            “Your work,” he says.
            His eyes are puffy where he has been crying or drinking too much or both. He tells me he can’t compete, that he always feels second best. Even as I try to reassure him that it isn’t so, part of my mind is focused on the oddly shaped salt-cellar that when he has left I will steal and use of part of my sculpture.
#
            You love this about me don’t you? It is something you could never get from one of your own. The little details of a human life are seasoning on the vaster dish that is your higher understanding. When I remember Earth, my old life, it fills you with pleasure. A rush of psychic feedback floods back into me. I run up our hill, towards you and you hold me in the great girders of your mandibles. I look into your jaws and the infinite depths beyond.  Will it be now? I want it to be now.
#

MTI:  A tantalizing sample!  Those who'd like to check out Gary's latest short story release can pick up a copy of We Were Heroes!


Friday, March 11, 2016

Crime and Punishment and Martinus Publishing

It's hard to believe it's been over 3 years now since Martinus Publishing first came into being, and our first short story anthology, The Temporal Element, hit bookshelves.  A lot has happened in that time, and not all of it good.

Today, a shocking news article was brought to my attention, which apparently involves one-time contributing author, Steven Gepp, who has a story called "Extinction" in The Temporal Element.  In the news article, it is revealed that one Steven Craig Gepp was convicted of molesting teenage girls in 2014, over a year after I published Extinction.  The individual who brought this news story to my attention claimed that my "interview" with Steven Gepp, a full year before he was prosecuted for these crimes, is "inappropriate" and that I should remove said interview.



I will point out that my interview with Steven Gepp has nothing criminal or inappropriate in it, and I would never condone or promote any form of sexual abuse.  I will further say that while I am inclined to believe that the news article is factual, I cannot with certainty say that this is the same Steven Gepp who wrote "Extinction" for The Temporal Element.   I cannot say with 100% certainty that it is the same individual.  Mind you, stranger things have happened.

So, here is where I stand on this whole thing.  Firstly, Mr. Gepp sold me the right to use "Extinction" in The Temporal Element in 2012, over a year before this news was released.  Furthermore, his fiction has nothing sexual or inappropriate in it, nor does his interview on my blog.  As I said, the interview was published over a year prior to Steven Craig Gepp's conviction, and since he sold me his story outright, he is receiving no more remuneration for this story contribution.

I can understand where some people are coming from when they say I should delete his interview and withdraw The Temporal Element from publication.  Certain people see that allowing his fiction and his interview to remain published is somehow "promoting" him as an individual, and that he doesn't deserve that publicity.  However, I am no fan of censorship, and I also will not be held responsible for a writer's actions when I am not made aware of said actions until years after their work is published.

At this time, I have no intention of pulling "The Temporal Element" from publication, and I furthermore have no intention of deleting my interview with Steven Gepp.  I will not punish the many other contributors to The Temporal Element who deserve to have their writing read, and I don't recognize how having a writer interview on my blog is in any way inappropriate.

I am still left with a nagging question as to how many people are going to be on my side with this decision.  Personally, I would be disinclined to publish the work of a sex offender, but when you're taking open submissions from people you do not know personally, you're bound to get stories from all kinds.  Though almost all Martinus contributors are upstanding citizens, there could be one or two with questionable morality (but that's none of my business).  I'm a fiction publisher, not a prosecuting attorney or judge.  It's not my job to "punish" Steven Gepp or any other writer.

I can only be expected to know so much, and I can't allow things that happen to contributors in the future to affect my publishing decisions.  I apologize to anyone who might be offended, but what is done is done.  Steven Gepp's interview and his fictional story were both published, and that's just the way it is.


Monday, March 7, 2016

We Were Heroes Author Interview: John Vicary

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" is now available, and I'm wrapping up the last interviews with the collection's various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing John Vicary, who contributed Her Game. Thank you for being here.

Starting off, could you tell our readers a little bit about yourself?

John Vicary:  Hello, and thank you so much for having me. I write under the pseudonym of John, but I'm actually a wife and mother of five. I own my own editing business, The LetterWorks, and I am the submissions editor at a small publishing company called Bedlam Publishing. In my spare time, I enjoy playing classical piano and I am learning to speak Russian.

MTI:  Now, getting down to business; what first compelled you to weave fiction, and what's your favorite type of story to write?

JV:  I've been writing for as long as I can remember! It seems like it was a natural outlet for me since I was very young. I like to try my hand at all different genres, but I tend to gravitate towards literary fiction and more recently I have had success with creative nonfiction.

MTI:  Tell me, if you had to pick just one author who has influenced or inspired you, who would it be?

JV:  I have to pick John Irving. As a youngster I was in love with the classics, and I read a lot of authors who had been published many years before I had been born. John Irving was one of the first authors I read who is still alive and publishing today who I consider an absolute genius. I was so impressed by his unique style. I find that he is very polarizing; people either love his stories or they despise his work. My own style is not like his, but if I could imbue my stories with as much heart and humor as he does, I would consider myself a success.

MTI:  Your story, Her Game, appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

JV:  I was so excited to write for this collection because it is an unusual and interesting subject. My story is a little tongue-in-cheek, but I think that underneath it shows the pain of aging in this society. We tend to neglect our elderly, and I think the transformation into an old, and therefore useless, person must be very difficult for those people who were revered as celebrities, as superheroes are. This story uses humor to underscore that point.

MTI:  Who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

JV:  When I was little I adored Wonder Woman. And She-Ra, Princess of Power!

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

JV:  I rather think it would be fun to fly, don't you? If I didn't have to worry about the wax melting, like Icarus, then I might choose that. If flying were like swimming in the air, I don't know if I could turn that down. Then again, I could wreak a lot of havoc by shape-shifting, and I'm not normally mischievous but that sounds like limitless fun for a creative person! Tough choices!

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

JV:  It sounds terribly pretentious, but I am working on my memoir. It has received some positive reviews, and I am hopeful that people will find it interesting.

MTI:  Other than your contribution appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

JV:  Yes, I have just published my fifty-second story with “Shenandoah”, and two of my stories are shortlisted for the 2016 Charter Oak Best Historical Fiction Award and will be published as part of Alternating Current's annual literary journal.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good tv lately?

JV:  It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia's 10th Season just came out. So funny! I also just finished this miniseries called Poldark. It wasn't bad.

MTI:  How about music?

JV:  I have diverse tastes in music. My kids are really embarrassed by what I listen to. I like everything from 70's disco to classical. My favorite genre has to be Bollywood soundtracks, though. If you haven't danced in your kitchen to Chammak Challo or the Lungi dance, you're missing out. Fun stuff!

MTI:  Can you name three movies that you could watch over and over again and not be bored?

JV:  #1 The Lord of the Rings trilogy extended version, #2 Om Shanti Om, #3 The Matrix

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?

What Remains

            They threw me off the hay truck about noon after we’d been riding the rutted roads for the better part of six hours. They gave me a dented canteen still mostly full of warm water and pointed me north to a border that no one but me wanted to cross. I shook hands with all of them except Wilford and I would have watched them pull away, but there wasn’t any point. They were already gone, whether I watched it happen or not. I hitched my pack onto the shoulder that wasn’t broken and started walking.

            A different sort of man might have enjoyed the scenery; the ruined path that had proffered pain in the riding now provided a breathtaking vista by foot. Perhaps that same man would have taken the chance to turn inward along the way to examine the thoughts and conscience that had led him to undertake such an arduous journey. I was not such a man, however, and I walked northward with a numbness of purpose. Each step was a buffer against pangs and ruminations until I found myself alone in some dark unknown place.

            Even a man such as I must rest sometimes, and that place between sleep and dreams is when memory lays down the weapons of day and allows unwelcome remembrance to breach the gate. There is nothing left in this wide world during the nighttime except the star lanterns shining overhead; that is when what is left of you crept in. I saw your face in Andromeda and Virgo, and the cloud veil hid your smile. I knew then that they were right to leave me at the border. They were right about all the things they’d said. Even Wilford hadn’t been half wrong, but I’d broken my hand in two places against his jaw trying to shut him up and make the words stick in his throat. It hadn’t worked.

            The next morning the stars had burned themselves out against the trenchant dawn, and I was alone again. This time, I hefted my pack onto the injured shoulder and pretended the tears were for that tender broken spot. A slight breeze brought the smell of hay from the west, where I imagined they had made good time and were safe by now. But, then again, it might have been my imagination and I was just picking up a whiff from a fallow field down the road. Whatever the case, I had my own sojourn to make. I drained the last sip of water from the canteen and left it in the hollow where my head had rested last night. If my finger lingered in the dent, it was just for a moment, then I placed it with care against the cradle of dry prairie grass. I turned my back to the rising sun and headed into the unknown to find you in the missing blue of every day.

MTI:  That's certainly an intriguing piece.  For those who want to read more work by John Vicary, they can pick up We Were Heroes now, in print or kindle format!


Monday, February 29, 2016

We Were Heroes, Now Available!

We Were Heroes, Martinus Publishing's latest anthology, is now available!  Check out the Kindle Edition Here, or order a print copy from the publisher.  Amazon and other retail outlets will also have the print version available in the coming days.

For those of you who want a free taste of this exciting anthology, Karl G. Rich's contribution, The Absence of Heat, can be found here.  It is just one of the many tantalizing tales in this collection of old, retired, and off-beat heroes!


As for future Martinus Publishing works, the much-anticipated "Altered Europa" is next on the list, featuring alternate history stories focusing on historical Europe.  See what might have been when this collection hits the market later in 2016!

Friday, February 26, 2016

We Were Heroes Interview: Bruno Lombardi

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we'll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing Bruno Lombardi, who contributed a story called "Mr. Cuddles" to the anthology.  Thank you for being here for another great interview, Bruno.

Starting off, let's pretend I haven't interviewed you before, and tell our new readers a little bit about yourself.

Bruno Lombardi:  Well I’m 47 years old and have been currently employed as a civil servant for the Canadian government for over fourteen years now. While I’ve been writing for my own pleasure since university, it’s only been a few years since I’ve been writing professionally. It’s a great feeling having something that you saw as just a great way to relax after work and impress a few friends now being seen outside my circle of friends – and even better, making a few bucks out of it. Not making enough to quit my day job, alas, but it’s still a great feeling being acknowledged for it nevertheless.

My writing tends to be quite eclectic in nature; I’ve written –and published! – everything from horror to science fiction to alternate history to genre-blending stuff that is difficult to categorize with just one term. The fiancée is quite impressed – and more than a bit concerned! – about how my brain works sometimes!

MTI:  "Mr. Cuddles" appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.  In a nutshell, what's it about?

BL:  It focuses on the ‘dark side’ of being a superhero. While most of the superheroes in many stories do it for noble reasons, the protagonist in my story is motivated to do it as a result of some rather unpleasant traumatic events – and, more to the point, by a talking teddy bear giving him advice. I had more than one reader impressed with the sudden shift from comedy to horror.

MTI:  Who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

My favorite hero, oddly enough given the nature of my story, has always been Superman.

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

BL:  Just one? That’s a tough one but I’ll go with flying. The freedom to fly in the air like a bird, that moment where you’re floating high above the ground – quite exhilarating.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

BL:  I have a few things on the go right now: a dieselpunk version of the Rapunzel fairy tale, a unicorn story that’s a comedic mash-up of The Seven Samurai and a story about a haunted subway train.

MTI:  Other than , appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

BL:  I’m co-writer on several stories that will be published in upcoming Martinus anthologies.

MTI:  You're pretty active in the promotion of your published works.  Tell us a little bit about the last convention you attended.

BL:  So after a very long day at the convention I take off and stop by a pub in the area to grab a sandwich and beer. While I’m waiting for the food, I notice one of the servers staring at me. After a moment or two, he comes over to me.

“Sorry to bother you,” he says, “But weren’t you sitting at a table at the sci-fi con with a bunch of your books?”

“Why, yes, yes I was.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a few copies of some of the books with you now, would you?”

“Well, as a matter of fact…”

“Awesome! Tell you what; if you give me two of the books – signed, of course – I’ll pick up your bill! Sound good?”

And that’s how I ended up exchanging books for food, truly the sign of a great writer, yes?

MTI:  Wow, that's something I'd love to have happen, for sure.  Moving on, when it comes to television, are you watching anything new these days?

BL:  Nothing new at the moment but I’m eagerly awaiting the new season of Person of Interest. For those who aren’t aware of the show, it’s a science fiction action-thriller TV series that began as a twist on the police procedural concept and over the course of the last four seasons it’s smoothly developed into a post-cyberpunk spy drama with dueling Artificial Intelligences.

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?

BL:  Well, this is the opening paragraphs to Mr. Cuddles:

"We need to talk."
I blinked in shock and surprise at that line. Not just the fact that it was being spoken to me, but also simply the fact that it was being spoken at all.
The sentence had just been uttered by my stuffed teddy bear.
“What?” was my astoundingly intelligent response.
“We need to talk,” repeated Mr. Cuddles.
I looked around the room. It had been fourteen years since I had last been in my bedroom, having moved away—well, run away, let’s be honest—from home two weeks after mom died and three weeks since dad got… got away with what he did. The room had not been touched since then—grandma had made sure of that—and the place looked exactly like what you would expect a 14 year old boy’s bedroom would look like; Superman bed sheets, a few posters of (now forgettable) 90’s bands, supermodels and TV show characters, and the obligatory piles of toys, comic books and sci-fi books.
And, of course, my stuffed teddy bear, Mr. Cuddles—the only friend I'd had when I was a kid.
We really need to talk,” said Mr. Cuddles patiently.
            I looked at Mr. Cuddles. Yup, he was a teddy bear. Brown. Fuzzy. A bit threadbare. One eye missing.
“Shit.  I’m losing my mind,” I said, out loud.
“No, you’re not,” replied Mr. Cuddles.
Yeah–that alleviated my concerns…
“How…?”
“Don’t know, Brian. It just is,” said Mr. Cuddles. “Now, take a seat. We have something to discuss.”
“You’re a freaking teddy bear!” I yelled.
“Yeah, I know that, Brian. Yeesh! You always were a bit slow. Now would you please take a seat?”
I think I babbled something incoherent but I sat down nevertheless. On the floor, as it turned out. No chairs my size in the room.
“What…?” I croaked.
“By the way, remember that time you pulled my eye out? That stung, you know."
“Ummm… sorry?”
“That’s okay. All water under the bridge, man. But now the important part. Now pay attention; this part is a bit crazy.”
Now comes the crazy part?” I asked cynically.
Mr. Cuddles either missed or ignored the sarcasm in my voice.
“You have a mission in life now, Brian. A very important one.”


MTI:  Excellent.  Thanks for another fantastic interview, Bruno.  For those who'd like to read more of "Mr. Cuddles" and other off-beat hero stories, We Were Heroes will be released On February 29!

Monday, February 15, 2016

We Were Heroes Author Interview: Wayland Smith

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we'll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing Wayland Smith, who contributed To Fight the Unbeatable.  Thank you for being here.

Starting off, could you tell our readers a little bit about yourself?

Wayland Smith:  I’m a voracious reader. My primary rule of life is always have a book with me. I’ve worked a lot of jobs that  have given me interesting experiences to write about, including being on tour with the circus, private investigator, co-owner of a comic book shop, and deputy sheriff.

MTI:  Now, getting down to business; what first compelled you to weave fiction, and what's your favorite type of story to write?

WS:  I started writing seriously several years ago when a friend of mine, author Harry Heckel, pushed me into doing NaNoWriMo for the first time. My first novel, In My Brother’s Name, started off as a NaNo project. As for type, my running joke is I write what the little voices tell me to. I skip around genres a lot.

MTI:  Tell me, if you had to pick just one author who has influenced or inspired you, who would it be?

WS:  Just one? Wow. Jim Butcher, writer of Dresden Files, Codex Alera, and Cinder Spires. I love his combination of humor, magic, and heroism. But picking just one is hard.

MTI:  Your story appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

WS:  To Fight The Unbeatable is a quote from Man of La Mancha, a musical about Don Quixote. My story is about aging heroes, in this case, Alzheimer’s. What do you do when someone with the power to level a building can’t always remember who, where, or when he is?

MTI:  Indeed, it is quite a poignant topic.  As a quick aside, my grandmother played in an off-Broadway production of Man of La Mancha in the early 70's.

Moving on, who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

WS: Again, just one? I’ll go with Nightwing, the grown up Dick Grayson, formerly Robin. He was the first sidekick to get his own identity, and I love his pre-reboot costume.

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

WS:  Superspeed. I hate being stuck in traffic. No more rush hour jams.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

WS:  I use what I call the Gatling Gun approach to writing. Each month, I try to do at least one chapter on my various works in progress, revise other work, and look around for short story opportunities like this one. Novels I’m presently working on include Hunter, about a band of monster hunters in Boston; V-Day, my take on a zombie novel, and From the Ashes, a superhero novel featuring Steel, the main character in this short story.

MTI:  Other than your contribution appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

WS:I have a novel about superhuman mercenaries called Cadre Clash that I’m in final revisions on, and hope to have out soon.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good tv lately?

WS:  It’s a great time to be a hero geek! I love Flash, and the Netfilx Daredevil and Jessica Jones. I’m also watching Arrow, Agents of SHIELD, and iZombie, all of which I review regularly.

MTI:  How about music?

WS:  My musical tastes are all over the road. Favorites include Queen, Billy Joel, Pink, Dolly Parton, and the Eagles.

MTI:  Can you name three movies that you could watch over and over again and not be bored?

WS:  I do love my movies. Let’s see.. Raiders of the Lost Ark, Field of Dreams, and Avengers, but there are so many more.

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?

WS:   Here are a few paragraphs from Blood Of A Nation, about a man who falls in battle on the first day of the American Revolution but gets brought back as something more.

It had been such a fine day. Absurdly, inanely even, that thought kept circling in his head. As if that could negate everything else that happened. A lovely day, spring in the air, not overpoweringly hot, no rain, a good day for working the fields. McLean could remember the blue of the sky, the brilliance of the sun, and then the terrible sounds like a huge sheet ripping as the lines of muskets fired, then the smoke that wreathed everything and made it near impossible to see. Who had fired first? It seemed important, but there was no way to know. The confusion, the near panic, the thick acrid smoke from the muskets, and then the feeling of being hit by something like a monstrously strong hammer.
            There had been no pain, not at first. Just the dazed confusion, trying to work out what had happened, why he was lying on the ground. Then the burning pain, and later the slow tightness in his chest, it getting harder and harder to breathe. He tried to get up time and again, and felt weakness through his body. His legs shook, refusing to bear his weight, while his arms trembled uselessly.  He tried to cry for help, and only managed a weak croak. The long day passed, the smoke drifting away and he lay there, helpless. The fight had long ago moved off, toward Boston... He thought the militia had won, or at least driven them back. That ought to shock them, King's Army forced back by "peasant rabble." His mind kept drifting to the days before, the fights with his father, his impassioned pleas for the man to just see sense, to recognize the injustice of the King’s treatment of the Colonists.  The bitter sting of gunpowder filled his nostrils, making him cough.  The cough caused him dizzying pain, and he passed out with a tearing sensation ripping through his chest.
            He started awake. It was much later in the day. The sun had moved in its lazy dance through the spring sky.  He was terribly thirsty. He had heard some faint moaning earlier, other wounded no doubt. But now it was still and silent and he was thirsty and it was harder to breathe. It felt like he couldn't get air into his chest. The spring sun was beating down on him worse than the height of summer, tormented as he was by pain and thirst and heat. "Someone... can anyone hear me? Help me," he wheezed out, barely able to hear his own words himself. This would do no good, no aid would answer a call barely voiced. He tried to force himself up, and slid a bit down the slight slope. Fear gripped him as he remembered the Concord River. Not much of a river, true, but as he was now? He'd drown like a helpless babe. He tried to frame a prayer, and passed out again.
            It was dark. For a moment he feared he had gone blind as well, then realized he could see stars– he must have lost consciousness again. The bitter smell of gunpowder had faded, replaced by the cool scent of the river.  Insects buzzed in the darkness.  He called out again for any sort of help, and his voice sounded worse than before. Or more truthfully, barely sounded at all. Was this how he was to die? No great hero, no veteran of battles to free his land, forgotten on the first battlefield of the war, like lost luggage on a dock? He nearly sobbed in frustration, fear, and pain. "Help.... me." he rasped out again. He let his head hit the ground, exhausted by the effort.
            But wait-- footsteps, surely? He could hear the tread, even the creak of boot leather. Amazing how something that wouldn't be remarked suddenly became so momentous. He tried to call out again, and couldn't summon the breath or the strength. But somehow, the footsteps came closer. The words weren't kind, the tone not warm and caring, but they were the sweetest words he'd ever heard.
            "This one lives. He will have to do. Bring him."
            More footsteps, people coming, hands reaching for him. Lifting him up caused new barbs of pain to dig into him.  He gave a strangled half cry, and tried to resist. His powerless limbs weren't up for the challenge. Blackness rushed in on him, and blissful oblivion.

MTI:  Fantastic.  I'm suitably intrigued.  For those who'd like to read more of Mr. Smith's writing, We Were Heroes comes out February 29th!


Wednesday, February 10, 2016

We Were Heroes Interview: Frank Byrns


Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we'll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing Frank Byrns, who contributed Night Terror.  Thank you for being here.

Starting off, could you tell our readers a little bit about yourself?

FB:  Sure -- thanks for having me. Let's see -- I grew up in North Carolina, and after a brief stint in Arizona, I've spent the last fifteen years in Maryland, about halfway between Washington, DC and Baltimore. And for most of those years in Maryland, I've been writing and editing fiction of all kinds, but particularly superhero fiction. I have published four books of superhero fiction (check them out at www.frankbyrns.com), and also edited 14 issues of A Thousand Faces, the Quarterly Journal of Superhuman Fiction. We published over a hundred stories in a little over four years -- the exact kind of fiction I think readers of We Were Heroes would enjoy.

MTI:  Now, getting down to business; what first compelled you to weave fiction, and what's your favorite type of story to write?

FB:  I've always been a writer, all the way back to grade school when I would write my own GI Joe and Robin Hood adventures. Early fan fiction, I guess. I made comics with some classmates, created Dungeons & Dragons adventures for others. I used to write a little newsletter for a backyard wrestling federation hosted on my neighbor's trampoline. I don't remember a time when I wasn't interested in storytelling of some kind, but I guess you could say I got 'serious' about it in the last ten to twelve years.

My favorite kind of story to write? I like human stories in genre trappings. I like to write superhero stories with very little punchy kicky stuff, no powers, and maybe even no code names that are still distinctly superhero stories. If you took out the superhero element, they wouldn't work nearly as well. I know those sound like terrible superhero stories, but it's a little hard to describe. Hard to write, too! They are crime stories, noir stories, with a little bit of cape in them. Hero noir. Something like that. (Not to say there's anything wrong with superfights and capes and supervillain deathtraps or any of those things -- I like to read some of them, just don't care to write them as much.)
MTI:  Tell me, if you had to pick just one author who has influenced or inspired you, who would it be?

FB:  Just one? For my superhero stories, I guess I'd have to say Kurt Busiek's run on Astro City. I love the way it flips the narrative of  'what it would be like if superheroes lived in our world' to 'what it would be like if we lived in theirs'. A subtle difference in perspective, but one that I have always loved. Those books got me back into comics after a long absence, and they continue to inspire all these years later. 

MTI:  Your story appears in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

FB:  "Night Terror" was written quite a while ago (originally entitled "Twilight", which didn't seem like a bad idea at the time) and when I saw the call for submissions, it just seemed like a natural fit. The jumping off point was the standard retired police detective who has the one case that he could never solve. You know the guy with the stolen copy of the case file he grabbed on his last day at the office, the one he pulls out a couple of times of year and spreads all over the kitchen table with a bottle of bourbon and some slow jazz in the background. And my thought was, I bet superheroes would have these, too. It kind of took off from there and became something somewhat different (as stories often do), but that was the genesis.

MTI:  Who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

FB:  Daredevil. All the crime noir trappings, the Catholic guilt. Captain America, Batman, Green Arrow, and Hawkeye would round out my top five, but DD is my guy.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?

FB:  Sure. I have quite a few things going -- I usually work on several things at once until one of them catches fire and demands to be finished. I am working on a couple of short stories -- one's a pro wrestler in the 1970s moonlighting as a bail bondsman that I'm starting to get a handle on. I am also working on a novella (probably -- could run a little longer, but I don't think it will) featuring Adonis Morgan, the guy who has proven to be my most popular character. And I've been trying to crack a novel for a while now -- I have a story that feels relatively fully-formed, I just need to find my entry point. To paraphrase a much better writer than I: I have the words, I just don't know what order they go in.

MTI:  Other than "Night Terror" appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

FB:  I have a superhero story entitled "When None Pursueth" that will be appearing on the Ares Magazine website in the early part of 2016. That's the only thing on the docket at the moment, but there are submissions floating out there that will hopefully bubble to the surface soon.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good TV lately?

FB:  Sure -- I watch a lot of TV. (Too much TV?) My favorite show this fall had to be Fargo -- I loved the first season, but I found this past season to be essentially perfect. I like what I've seen from the first four episodes of SyFy's The Expanse -- looking forward to seeing where that one goes. I love watching Arrow and The Flash with my kids -- we're looking forward to Legends of Tomorrow in a few weeks, as well.  

MTI:  Can you tell us what the last movie you watched was, and what you thought of it?

FB:  Like most of America, the last movie I watched was Star Wars: The Force Awakens. I loved every minute of it. I loved being able to take my kids, the way my dad took me to see the originals, and the way my wife and I saw the prequels as a newly-married couple. Circle of life, and all that. Thinking critically, I don't know if it was a great movie, per se, but I really enjoyed it. And now that the board has been cleared and restacked with the new characters, I can't wait for Episode VIII. (I also watched a double feature of No Country For Old Men and A History of Violence on my parents' couch the day after Christmas -- Happy Holidays, everyone!!)

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?  (If you'd like to share a few paragraphs or a page of writing, this could be a good place for it.)

FB:  Sure -- here's a little bit from "When None Pursueth", appearing at the Ares website soon. The jumping off point for this one -- what if instead of landing in a cornfield in Kansas, baby Kal El's rocket landed in a back alley dumpster in Gotham City, and instead of being found by a kindly old farm couple... you get the idea.

The story was originally written for a long-ago abandoned shared-world anthology dealing with superheroes in the midst of an alien invasion. I thought it would be fun to approach it as a writer of a regular comic series taking the editorial mandate of a company-wide crossover and shoehorning into his own book as a tie-in issue. So here's a bit from (if you will) Godhammer #422, "When None Pursueth". 

-------------

            The first relief shipment disappeared a week ago; the second, three days after that. So I attached a tracer to the third, and watched as it went from airfield to UN warehouse to white unmarked panel truck to different panel truck, which parked itself on the curb while the driver locked the doors and went inside an 8th Street Thai massage parlor that is owned, if you dig deep enough into the paper trail, by Zito Properties. 
            Three minutes later, a different driver emerged, climbed in the cab, and made his way here, to the back door of Nada. According to the remote camera I placed here yesterday (identical to the one trained on the dock of every Zito restaurant in town – call it a hunch), it's the only delivery they've gotten all day. The implication is clear, as far as I can tell: Mr. Zero is taking the food relief shipments meant for the neediest residents of this town – three more grocery stores have shut down in my neighborhood this week alone – and using it to feed the richest. 
            You would think the city would have cleared out as soon as we realized that we were the focus of the Qraken force, but it hasn't. Among the rich and powerful, it's been almost business as usual. And why not? The Arsenal and their kind have always been around to keep their best interests at heart. For Zero's happy clientele, the invasion is just the latest in a long thread of the same, no different from the time The Unforgiven robbed their Savings and Loan or the time when Kuroikaze poisoned their water supply. 
            They're all still here because they want to be. Unlike folks on my side of the tracks; the only ones left there are the ones who can't leave. The ones who can't just quit their jobs: the police officers, the firefighters, the nurses. The teachers, many of whom won't leave until the last child is gone. They haven't left, so neither can I. Not that I've ever even thought about it.  
            Up on the rooftop, I tap the goggles stitched into my cowl, accessing my magnification lenses to get a better look at the giant goons who just stepped out the back door of the restaurant for a smoke break. Hmmm. This might go deeper than just the food angle – Zero's brought in some heavy hitters. I see Skull Krusher, Monkey Tom, Black Rhino. And you can rest assured that if Rhino's around – yep, there she is. Trouble. 
            The four of them standing there outside the same door, the one between me and Zero. I had expected one, maybe two, goons; it's been years since Zero's lifted as much as a finger with intent. But four – the evening just got a lot more complicated. 
            Almost on cue, I hear a pair of boots landing softly behind me. I say “landing” because I am positioned against the ladder that provides the only access to the roof from below – therefore, the newcomer must have come from above. 
            That, and I recognize the sound of the footfall. I should; after all, I taught him everything he knows. 
            “Hey, Pops,” he says. 
            Like I said: complicated.

* * *

            “Hey, Pops.”  
            It's the right thing to do, announce my presence like that. He already knows I'm here; I'm sure he heard me land. And it's not like I'm trying to sneak up on him. I mean, I could if I wanted to. . . I think. Scratch that – maybe not. He's pretty crafty, the old man. 
            I wonder sometimes how my life might have turned out different if the rocket that brought me to Earth as a child had crashed in, say, a cornfield in Iowa or Kansas rather than a dumpster in an alley in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. Would I have still grown into the same man I've become? 
            But there's not much time for idle speculation these days. I wasn't found by some kindly old widower who might've stepped out of a Rockwell painting (as I imagine her); instead, I was found here, by Godhammer, about two minutes before some crackheads happened across me and sold me into white slavery, or worse. He took me home and raised me as if I were his own, and for that I am eternally grateful. But still, a guy can't help but wonder. 
            Of course, raising me as if I were his own meant molding me in his own crimefighting image. His apostle, he called me, only half-jokingly. My alien DNA gave me powers far beyond any Pops had ever dreamed of for himself; the miracle baby from beyond the stars, he called me. 
            “Hey, Kid,” he says. He still calls me Kid because he knows it bothers me. Worse yet, I know that he's doing it on purpose, because it bothers me, and I still let it bother me. I haven't been Kid Cosmo in ten years. I think his feelings are still hurt.  
            “Quite the murderer's row down there,” I say, mostly to change the subject, motioning towards the array of supervillains enjoying a smoke break below. “Zero must be running a helluva dinner special.” 
            “Yeah, something like that,” he says, no longer able to hide his irritability. I smile a little under my mask. 
            “Stop smirking,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
            I glance towards the northwest sky, which glows faintly, residue from this morning's terrible battle. “We could really use you out there, Pops,” I say. “On the front line.” 
            “You don't need me. You made that clear a long time ago.”
            We have this same argument, one way or another, every time I visit. It's been ten years, but sometimes you'd think I left yesterday. “No, I said we need you. Wildfire's missing, Peregrine, too – it's getting really bad out there.” 
            “My work is here.” 
            “Yeah, well, if things don't start turning around out there, there won't be any here left.” 
            Godhammer gives me his back, watching the scene in the alley below. “When I see a Qraken platoon on 8th Street, I'll let you know.” 
            “You do that, Pops.” I shake my head; the man has always had a singular gift for making me wish I had never come home. 
            “So this is, what, some kind of shore leave?”
            “Yeah, something like that.”
            Pops goes quiet a moment, watching below as Trouble grinds out her cigarette beneath a ridiculously long stiletto heel. She turns for the door, lingering long enough to give us both a nice clear view of the backless black leotard / fishnet ensemble that has been her trademark for as long as I've known her. She looks back over her shoulder coyly, then disappears inside. For a brief moment, I wonder if she saw me up here, the little performance meant for my eyes.
            “You gonna try and see Jackie while you're home?” Pops asks, snapping me out of long-ago memories.  
            “I did – this afternoon. My first stop.”  
            He nods. “Good. Bet she liked that.” 
            Pops may have taught me what it was to be a crimefighting machine, to be superhuman; but Jackie taught me what it was to be human. I think all three of our hearts shattered forever the day she walked out on him. 
            “How about you?” I ask. “You get over to see her much?” 
            He turns, unable to meet my eyes. “Not as much as I'd like. It's hard to see her like that, you know?” 
            I do know. I was there this afternoon. “Yeah,” I say instead. 
Black Rhino finishes off his cigarette, then follows Trouble back inside the restaurant. Two final puffs later, Monkey Tom does the same. Skull Krusher lingers a moment longer, watching as an F-22 screams across the sky at very low altitude, a Qraken starfighter in close pursuit. 
            “That's gonna be tough, fighting your way through that door,” I say, once my ears have stopped ringing.  
            “Yep.”
            “We could try the front door,” I say.
            “We?” Pops asks, a smile creeping across his lips.
            I nod. “For old times' sake.” 


MTI:  Well, I'm suitably hooked.  Thank you for that tempting sample, Frank.  For those who wish to read more of his work, check out We Were Heroes, coming February 29, 2016!

Friday, January 15, 2016

We Were Heroes Author Interview: Karl G. Rich

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology "We Were Heroes" will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we'll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I'm interviewing a returning contributor, Karl G. Rich.  This time around, he has contributed a fantastic piece entitled The Absence of Heat.  Thank you for being here for another great interview.

KGR:  You’re welcome. As always, I’m at your complete disposal. That is except for home remodeling because I’m also up to my eyeballs with demo and rebuilding.

MTI:  For those of our readers who haven't encountered our previous parleys, how about we start off by having you introduce yourself.  Tell the new readers a little bit about yourself.

KGR:  I’m a native Floridian transplanted to the Great Lakes region. I am fascinated with shipwrecks of which there are up to 6000 individual cases in the Great Lakes. It is what drives my current novels as I develop my own lore of life and death between the wave tops.

MTI:  The Absence of Heat is appearing in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

KGR:  I have a particular understanding of ageing and retirement. I hate to say it, but I resemble some of the caricatures on the proposed cover, especially the character with the teeth flying out of his mouth. I’m not an aficionado of comic books or their heroes, but I remember as a child identifying with the villains. Not necessarily the megalomaniacal characters, but the toadies and secondary bad-guys.

MTI:  Who's your favorite superhero (or villain)?

KGR:  My favorite super hero is a tossup between Spiderman and Ironman. Personally, I always loved how Stan Lee allowed that little slit Ironman breathed through to be drawn with expression. Seriously, how does a metal face either smile or frown? On the other side, the Green Goblin as drawn gave me nightmares.

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

KGR:  To change people’s minds. Think about it. Good or evil, take your pick.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you're working on right now?
KGR:  I’ve completed my first novel, The Mad King of Beaver Island. It is under submission at a small publisher in the UP of Michigan. I submitted to them because they publish other non-fiction works similar to my novel. In that vein I’m revising the second novel in that series.

MTI:  Other than The Absence of Heat appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

KGR:  At this point, I’ve stopped writing short stories so I can work on my novels.  On the other hand, I’m always looking for other venues to submit previously completed works.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good tv lately?

KGR:  TV is the bane of my existence. I watch sports.

MTI:  How about music?

KGR:  I like music, but I can barely listen to any of the new tunes. There are a few artists I can listen to like Bruno Mars or Meghan Trainor,  but I tend to listen to the “Oldie, but Moldy” style of music.

MTI:  What was the last movie you watched, and what did you think of it?

KGR:  I don’t have a lot of time for movies, so I’m picky. I only go to movies that are big screen affairs like Avatar. The last movie I went to was Interstellar with Matthew McConaughey. It had an interesting concept, but hardly original. The best part of the movie was when a hatch blew up on a space ship. The sound quality in the theater of the explosion was outstanding. Right now, I’m trying to find time to see the next Star Wars installment. Weird fact: I was on my first date with my first wife at the debut of Star Wars in 1977. There were less than twenty people in the theater.

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you'd like to share with us today?

KGR:  Well, sure. Let me dig deep into my trusty flash drive…*bang, slam, crinkle-crinkle* oh, here it is…

Oh, since this is out of context. This is 1763, Great Lakes region and Wasaga is a Native American.
Wasaga

“Why?” The question hung in the air.
No answer came.
Wasaga opened his eyes as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the mountains to the east. Growing up, he never dreamed or at least dreamed little enough to affect his consciousness. Decades after achieving manhood and over the past month the dreams have never stopped. He dreamed of a white-winged canoe ripped to pieces and faces of white men that deep down he sensed he should know. At the end of every dream, a spirit god told him to travel west.
Different spirit gods visited him nightly. Michi Kinagog, the spirit father of all people invaded his dreams the most and was the most insistent on Wasaga journeying west. The most pleasant of intruders was Ogima Nibi, a spirit god of the Lakes. Wasaga rarely thought of her because he was a mountain dweller.
“Wasaga.” A soft voice and lips brushed his ear as he slept.
He envisioned a pair of alluring eyes and swept up corners of a feminine mouth as he slept. A hand jostled his shoulder and he awoke to the same pair of golden eyes that trespassed in his dreams. While sleeping in the hollow of a tree gave him shelter, it did not allow him access to retreat.
“We must speak.” Ogima offered her hand to help Wasaga to his feet.
It was not yet dawn and the soft morning light added a halo to her head. Around Wasaga’s campsite the forest animals started their daily search for food and morning ablutions to the new day.
As Wasaga crawled out of the tree he noticed Ogima’s swollen lower abdomen. How wonderful! Then he considered the implication of gods having children. If the gods need to have children, are they truly immortal?
Ogima reached out to lift Wasaga’s chin and redirected his eyes away from her pregnant belly. “I see you have noticed.”
Wasaga’s face reddened. “Forgive my rudeness, Lady of the Lake.” He dropped his gaze to her engorged bosom, then realized what he was doing, and quickly looked her in the eye.
“Maji is loose upon the world,” she said. “It is Our fault and We have indulged him too far.” Ogima caressed her belly and smiled. “I don’t intend to spoil this child like his brother.”
The eternal trickster is Ogima Nibi’s son? Wasaga tried to remember everything his grandfather taught him about the gods, but the years had dimmed his memory. The lore had been handed down to him as a youngster and he hadn’t considered the gods until recently when the dreams started to disturb his sleep. Something tickled the back of his mind. It was what his grandfather told him the night before the old man walked out of camp with another short, old man, and was never seen again. “Is it true the spirit gods only create children with the intercession of a human?”
This time it was Ogima’s turn to blush. “Yes.”
Wasaga quickly glanced at the woman from head to toe. She had all the qualities a man desired. Wide, baby-carrying hips to bring many healthy sons into the world and strong muscular arms to lift and carry everything he needed to survive. The only down side Wasaga could perceive was her strong mind. A man like him needed a follower to do his bidding not to argue a point.
“Not on your life.” She sniffed.
“Don’t worry,” said Wasaga, his voice held derision, but his raised eyebrow said the opposite.  What would it be like to sire…and be a father of a god?
Ogima held her stomach again. “Death,” she replied. “I was weak for a moment, now the father of this child has been consumed by the politics of the spirit gods.” She swallowed noisily.
            “I’m sorry.”
            “I did not love him. I was…” Ogima stared up at the sky. “…overwhelmed, and now he shares a spot with Michi Kinagog.”
            What manner of man can overcome and seduce a god? Wasaga imagined a man a head taller than himself, shoulders as wide as an axe handle, teeth that can crush boulders and loins that are the envy of a bull moose. His stones reflexively clenched and withdrew into warmth.
            “He was not what you think.” Ogima grinned demurely. “But that is not why I am here. Maji…” Her lips tightened. “Maji was banned from Us. We love him dearly, but he is who he is. This world is between Us and his world.”
            “Pardon me, Lady, but I have been taught the tradition of the gods,” interrupted Wasaga.
            Ogima stared down Wasaga’s petulance. “Yes? Were you taught Magi could open a door from his world to yours? All of the souls he has captured are waiting to return to this existence. They are vile, nasty creatures that no longer resemble the humans they once were.” The beautiful woman’s mouth curled as if to spit out sewage that had suddenly appeared on her tongue.
            “I’m only a man. What do the affairs of gods have to do with me?”
            “Maji used your ancestor in a curse. The curse is a lit twig during a summer’s drought. The forest is dry and the ground cover is thick and ready to burn. Maji has thrown the fire into the brush and only those involved in the curse can put the flames out.”
            The first rays of dawn streaked out from behind a mountain and Ogima gripped his upper arm. “Travel west to the land of the Fox.”
            Wasaga snorted awake. His right bicep muscle twinged. On his arm were four red marks where Ogima had gripped him in his...Was it a dream?



MTI:  Well, that certainly caught my attention, and I'm sure there are plenty of our readers who would like to read more.  For those interested, they can pick up "We Were Heroes," or many other Martinus anthologies that contain his excellent work.