For Appearances' Sake

We're less than a month away from the release of Severance Package, which means I'll be crawling out of the ink-stained cocoon I've woven myself into lately to make a few public appearances. There are also a few comic-related events coming up, which is a new thing for me. I've said it before, but it's worth repeating: I'm a fundamentally shy person, and I became a writer because I thought I would able to hide behind my typewriter/computer for the rest of my ha ha HA HA HA HA hewwwwww.... sorry. These uncontrollable fits of laughter, boy they do sneak up on you.

Anyway...

This Saturday is Free Comic Book Day, and I'll be at Brave New Worlds in Old City (45 N. 2nd Street) from 3 to 5 p.m. to hang out, talk about Cable, and try to stonewall questions about the identity of the baby. Oh, and whatever else you want. Hope you can stop by, if you're in the area.

A week later, I'll be at Bagged and Boarded in Bensalem, PA (2337 Street Road) from 1 to 4 p.m. for the same reasons, only it won't be Free Comic Book Day. So you'll have to pay for stuff.

I'll also be at Wizard World Philadelphia, May 30 to June 1. Details to come.

And now, time to crawl back into the cocoon.

Under the Influence: Amazing Spider-Man #230

I first read this issue when I was 10, and it hasn't left my mind since. The plot is simple: Juggernaut is trying to make his way across New York City, and Spidey is trying to stop him. Basic, right? Well you have no idea the abuse Spidey takes in this one. At a certain point, the Webslinger hops on Juggy's back and covers his eyeholes (it's impossible to remove his helmet, because Juggernaut laser welded it to the rest of his uniform). This only pisses off the big guy. Juggy tries to rip Spidey from his back like you might try to rip a burning t-shirt from your torso. That doesn't work. So then Juggy uses his big meaty fists to pound the living fuck out of Spider-Man—with Spidey waiting him out, taking the beating, because he sees that Juggernaut is walking right into a bed of fresh cement. Which does the trick... eventually. But until then, an crippling amount of punishment is dished out on poor old Spidey, making you wonder how his spine didn't crumble into breakfast cereal.

Everytime I write a scene where a character is enduring a serious beat-down (which, um, happens fairly often in my books), I think about this issue. It's the bar I try to beat. Is this a Spidey-like ass-whupping? I ask myself. If not, I try again.

(Under the Influence is an occasional look at the things that warped Swierczy's mind at a young age. You got something that warped your mind? Let Secret Dead Blog know!)

The Murderer Vine

And my nomination for Best Opening Paragraph I've Read in a Long Time:

Here we sit in Puerto Lagarto—Port Lizard. It's on the old Mosquito Coast. Lizard and Mosquito, the two specialties down here. We're far below Yucatán. Compared this dump Yucatán is civilization. You put on a fresh shirt and thirty seconds later it's sopping wet. No paved streets and only one place with ice. That's the local cantina, La Amargura de Amor. The Bitterness of Love. Narcisco Ramirez owns it. He owns the only refrigerator. He packs it full of beer every morning. I sit in the Bitterness and drink my way from the front to the back of the refrigerator and look at the bay.

It's from The Murderer Vine, by Shepard Rifkin, out in May from Hard Case Crime. Bill Crider posted the original cover over at his place. I think Bill Crider owns every paperback ever published.

Meet Rex Parker...

... my new hero. Parker keeps a blog called Pop Sensation, and every couple of days he posts a vintage paperback scan (front and back!), then proceeds to skewer the crap out of it. Or, more rarely, praise it/the writer. His comments are hilarious and dead-on. ("The left nipple. It's like I'm staring down the barrel of a gun.") Even better, Parker sells the stuff he presents, so it's like visiting a real cool used book shop with a sardonic owner, commenting on everything you pick up. It's just pure awesome.

I have no idea who Parker is, but based on his Blogger profile interests (comics, crime fiction, gin, werewolves, grammar) I'd say he's a kindred spirit.

See? I Wasn't Making It Up

Here's a cool short piece in the L.A. Times about The Blonde film option. Although it is very funny to see the word "blonde" alongside a photo of a very dark-haired Ms. Monaghan...

And speaking of L.A. Times and hair color (and this is probably of more interest to Philadelphians and Los Angeleans): did anyone see the current issue of GQ, where it was revealed that Robert Downey Jr. would be playing L.A. Times columnist Steve Lopez in The Soloist? As a hardcore Lopez fan since the late 1980s, all I can say is... niiiiiice.

Tagged, Bagged, Tied, Dyed, Swept to the Side

Danny Wagner at The Hungry Detective tagged me with a meme. I thought penicillin had killed these things off in the 1950s, but I suppose not. Anyway...

This is called Page 123. And here are the rules.

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

Okay... nearest book is The Richard Matheson Companion, edited by Stanley Wiater, Matthew R. Bradley, & Paul Stuve (Gauntlet Publications, 2008). I've been dying to read this book for almost a year now, ever since I read about it in an issue of IDW's short-lived black and white horror comic Doomed. So, I've been savoring this slowwwwwwly, keeping it close at hand, and dipping in whenever I need a hit of Matheson.

Page 123, sentences six through nine:

He gave me books to read, concepts to ponder, and ideas to contemplate. More than anything, he inspired and encouraged me to be myself. To pursue my dreams no matter what anyone said.

Pretty goddamned inspiring isn't it?

That said, I'm going to break the fifth rule of this meme, and not tag anybody else. Like Holmes wrestling with Moriarty, I'm grabbing this motherfucker and taking it over the falls with me. Run! Run while you can! Save yourselllllvvvvvvvvvveeeeeesssssssss....

The Fine Art Meat Train

One cool thing in the NY ComicCon sign-in bag: a postcard promoting a Clive Barker exhibit at Sloan Fine Art on the Lower East Side. The reception has come and gone (April 17), but the show is up through May 10, and features a series of conceptual paintings for the upcoming film adaptation of Barker's own short story "The Midnight Meat Train" (out this summer). "Meat Train" was the second story I read in Barker's Books of Blood when I bought the collection back in 1988, and it has always made me think of Manhattan as a place that will carve you up into choice cuts for underground cannibals if you're not careful. Of course, that was before Guiliani cleared them all out. (Killjoy.)

NY ComicCon Hangover: Parting Shot

This one goes out to my literary agent, David Hale Smith. Oh like you don't know why. (Photo, incredibly, by the Bride.)

NY ComicCon Hangover: A Shameless Product Placement

This was taken at the "Make Mine Marvel" panel Saturday morning. If you squint, you can see X-Men editor Nick Lowe at the desk, and me to the right. I had no idea they were showing book covers as I spoke. For all I knew, Nick could have had "I'm With Stupid <----"-style images up on that big screen. For all I knew, he did. (Photo by The Bride.)

NY ComicCon Hangover: How I Almost Shook Stan Lee's Hand

I say almost, because I am a dumb ass.

See, here's what happened: I was at Saturday's "Cup O' Joe" panel, where Marvel ed-in-chief Joe Quesada made a few announcements, then fielded questions from a long line of fans. It's a funny, freewheelin' kind of panel. Early on, Joe announced the new Punisher MAX news, and called me up to tell the audience about it. "And then get the hell off the stage," he joked. I said something about Frank being my kind of character: "He's old, he's bitter, and he likes to kill people." Then, as per Joe's instructions, I got the hell off the stage.

"Hey, wait," Joe said. "I was kidding. You can stay up here."

But I felt weird about that; I mean, it was Joe's panel. So I sat back down.

"Now I feel bad," Joe said, then waited a beat before adding: "Okay, I'm over it."

It was a funny moment.

Announcements ended, Joe started taking those questions, and then halfway through the session... STAN LEE WALKED INTO THE ROOM.

To a lifelong nerd like me, there's no bigger celebrity on earth. In fact, Stan Lee was the first person I ever attached the label "celebrity" to. Even The Bride gasped when he walked into the room... and she's a far cry from a comics fan. Everyone knows Stan Lee. And to know him is to worship him.

Then came the moment that now sticks in my back and twists: Stan Lee proceeded to shake the hands of everyone gathered on the dais: Joe Quesada, Marvel's marketing and PR honcho Jim McCann, publisher Dan Buckley, writer/editor C.B. Cebulski, executive editor Axel Alonso...

And only later did I realize that the list could have included super-geek Duane Swierczynski... if only I had remained on stage.

So yeah. Big dumb ass here.

NY ComicCon Hangover: Stormtroopers

Or Homeland Security. Not quite sure. (Photo by The Bride.)

NY ComicCon Hangover: Red Hulk, Green Hulk

Seriously, the green/Ed Norton Hulk is there, standing way in the back. This was the throbbing, pulsating core of the Marvel area at the con. (Photo by The Bride.)

NY ComicCon Hangover: Tim Roth

Tim Roth at the Marvel booth, just after signing Incredible Hulk posters, and, presumably, naked chests. Or perhaps mine was the only one. (Photo by The Bride.)

NY ComicCon Hangover: A Punishing Weekend

The Bride and I spent the weekend at the New York ComicCon (or Comic Con or Comic-Con); in fact we're still here at the hotel, enjoying the relative quiet of Manhattan on a Sunday morning. (That would be relative to our two kids, who are usually up and singing and screaming by this time.) There's a lot to report, and a lot of photos to share, thanks to the Bride.

Also, two bits of news were announced this weekend: one, that I'll be writing an arc of Punisher MAX, right between arcs by Gregg Hurwitz and the one and only Victor Gischler. My story's called "Six Hours to Kill," and kicks off early in 2009. You can read more about this right here.

And two: I'm now an exclusive Marvel writer. Which, goddamn, feels so good to type.

Anyway, stay tuned for more later today, after we make it back to Philly and upload a bunch of photos. Including some with actual celebrities! And (I say this for David Hale Smith's benefit) ass crack!

And She Doesn't Look a Day Over Absolutely Gorgeous

Please join me in wishing a happy birthday to the one, the only, The Bride. I'm lucky enough to have spent twelve birthdays in a row with my beautiful, sassy wife. We've actually known each other since her 15th birthday, as impossible as that sounds. (We were pen pals! Nothing Jerry Lee Lewis about our relationship, I swear.) Of course, regarding her beauty, you only have my word; she's notoriously camera shy, especially on this here blog. So instead, I put up the hottest pulp paperback redhead I could find, but you should know that even the smoking-est, sultri-est Gold Medal vixen doesn't hold a candle to the Bride. (With or without a gun.) Sometimes, nerds do luck out in the love department.

Hot One

No, this is not a PSA illustrating the summertime perils of propane grills. This is Travel Foreman's awesome cover for Immortal Iron Fist #17, our first issue together, due out this July. (Click on the image to see an extra-large version.) Here's the skinny on the book itself:

IMMORTAL IRON FIST #17
Written by Duane Swierczynski
Pencils and Cover by Travel Foreman
“The Mortal Iron Fist" part 1 of 4
Marvels’ kickingest, punchingest, kung-fu-iest book just got bigger! Following the character-redefining, critically-acclaimed, fan-favorite events of “The Seven Capital Cities of Heaven,” the all-new IMMORTAL IRON FIST creative team of Duane Swierczynski (CABLE) and Travel Foreman (ARES) takes it to the next explosive level! Think you know everything there is to know about the traditions of the Immortal Iron Fist? If you do, then why’s Danny sweating bullets over an inescapable legacy that’s haunted the Iron Fists for centuries, huh? Tell us that, if you’re so smart. What was the deeper meaning of Xao’s ominous threat? And what incredible new adventure are Danny’s fellow Immortal Weapons embarking upon?

Still Secret, Still Dead

Hey, look at that. A new header for this blog, which is only about... oh, three years overdue. Truth is, I had no idea you could load your own jpeg image onto a blogger blog until last week. So here we go. Me experimenting.

The photo is from the early 1970s. Shown is my childhood home in Philly; 4738 Darrah Street to be exact. Parked out front is my mother's black Dodge. I don't remember the exact year or make. Maybe someone out there can identify it by sight? I just remember sitting in the backseat, tumbling around without a booster or even a seat belt. It was the early 1970s. That's how we rolled.

This is where I lived from birth (1972) until the fall of 1989, when I moved to La Salle University's campus. Sure, I came back summers, and then for a few months after graduation, but I always count September '89 as the time I left home. My parents finally sold this house in 2002. A short while later, 4738 Darrah was occupied by drug dealers, who were the target of a statewide heroin bust (which I've blogged about before).

Somehow, it seemed appropriate as a header photo. That's where it all began, for better or worse.

Still more blog changes to come, but nothing radical. I promise.

NoirCon Hangover: The Next NoirCon

Yesterday, NoirCon mastermind Lou Boxer sent out an email thank you to all participants, which included first word of the Philly con's sequel:

Your support and participation made NoirCon a very rewarding experience for me. On a selfish note, I cannot wait to do it again. The incredible warmth and congeniality that swept through Philadelphia this April will set a high bar for the next NoirCon (no pun intended!). I hope you will consider joining us for NoirCon 2010.

Lou also noted that the event raised close to two grand for Awassa Children's Project. Not bad for a room full of dark and gloomy noir types.

Other Swierczynskis in the News

E. Swierczynski and colleagues, working at Nicolaus Copernicus University in Torun, Poland, report on stars, binaries, cataclysmic variables, and whole bunch of words and numbers I can't possibly comprehend. Sounds cool though, doesn't it?

(First in an occasional series. Have you spotted another Swierczynski in the news? Let Secret Dead Blog know!)

It's the Con, Man

This Friday I'll be headed to my first comic convention ever: New York ComicCon (or Comic-Con or Comic Con, depending on who you ask... stuff like this drives the former fact-checker in me nuts). Anyway, if you'll be around for any of the con, please do stop by and say hello—especially if you're a Secret Dead Blog reader. Here's where I'll be Friday and Saturday:

Friday, April 18
Mondo Marvel Panel, Room 1E12-13-14 – 4:30 to 5:30 pm

Saturday, April 19
Make Mine Marvel Panel, Room 1E08 – 11 am to 12 pm
Signing At Marvel, Booth #1141 – 2 to 3 pm
Cup O’ Joe Panel, Room 1E12-13-14 – 5:30 to 6:30 pm

There are also a bunch of additional appearances in the coming months—for comic stuff, but also Severance Package, which is a little more than month away. Right now I'm firming up dates for book tour stops in Philly (of course), New York City, Los Angeles and Houston, with more to come. Sadly, I don't think I'll be signing in Dave White's parents' backyard this time out; it's become way too trendy lately.

Update (4/16): I'm on another panel I totally forgot about. It's Friday at 4:30 (see above.)

"You've Really Gotta Pulverize That Thing"

Frank Bascombe has a cool Q&A with Richard Price over at Ain't It Cool News. Price talks about Lush Life, his screenplays, adaptations, and this little interesting bit about autobiographical details in fiction:

I feel like whatever you write is autobiographical, even if every character is a different race or speaks a different language- it’s all you. Because every time your character hits a crossroads, they make a choice that you’re making for them. And that is predicated on your values and what you’ve experienced in life.

Fast, Hard and Out of Control

Runaway Truck Ramp off Route 115 N, Bear Creek, Pennsylvania (Thursday, April 10).

Simenon Madness!

The other day I received an email from Allison Kirland at Symphony Space, a non-profit performing arts center in New York. She saw the NoirCon post on Georges Simenon, and wanted everyone to know about a cool Simenon event going on this Wednesday (April 16):

It’s called Inspecting Inspector Maigret: A Tribute to Georges Simenon. Fellow writers and admirers Colin Harrison (The Finder, just out), Robert MacNeil and Anna Moschovakis (translator of Simenon’s The Engagement) discuss the work of the Belgian mystery master, including some of his psychologically realistic and wonderfully atmospheric Inspector Maigret novels set in the cafés and alleys of Paris, the French countryside and Manhattan, among other places. Fritz Weaver will perform an excerpt from one of the mysteries.

I very much wish I could make this. Not only for the Simenon, but the chance to see Colin Harrison speak. (I've been a fan since his 1990 Philly-based debut Break and Enter.) But I'm going to be in NYC just two days later for ComicCon, so it's just not in the cards.

But you! What's your excuse? Especially if you dig Simenon? For more, click on the link above.

Simenon Madness 2!

Recommended by Scott Phillips at NoirCon. (Original title: The Watchmaker of Everton.) Phillips speaks, I order. And this one sounds great. From the interior promo copy:

She was not yet 20, but she was a wild country girl, female rather than woman and every movement of her hips disturbed him. She went out every evening with another man and made love without regard to the consequences. This was the woman he was afraid to make love to, until he married her...

COULD A SON FROM THIS MARRIAGE BE ANYTHING BUT BAD?

Hey, it's a fair question.

NoirCon Hangover: Free Redheads for the Asking

At NoirCon I ran into noir fiction lover Eric Campbell, who introduced himself and told me he dug my books. Which is always cool to hear. Then he continued: "But I ought to take you outside and beat the living crap out of you." Okay, maybe those weren't his exact words, but something along those lines. Then Eric explained: he was sore that the paperback edition of The Blonde included a short story sequel ("Redhead"), and he'd already shelled out for the hardcover edition.

I was happy to tell him that a .pdf of "Redhead" was his for the asking, as it is for everyone. All you have to do is drop me a short email (duane.swier AT verizon.net) with the subject line "Send me a Redhead," and give me some small indication that you've read The Blonde. No purchase required; I just want to make sure "Redhead" won't ruin the main novel for you. Offer lasts... pretty much forever. Or until an EMP blast wipes all .pdf copies from the face of the earth.

NoirCon Hangover: The Busted Flush Guy

David Thompson, owner of Busted Flush Press and assistant manager at Houston's Murder by the Book (Thursday, April 3, 2008).

NoirCon Hangover: Poe Boy and the Professor

Ed Pettit and Dan Wolkow, in the lobby of the Society Hill Playhouse (Thursday, April 3, 2008).

NoirCon Hangover: The Black Mask Boys

Shannon Clute and Richard Edwards, hosts of the podcasts "Behind the Black Mask: Mystery Writers Revealed" and "Out of the Past: Investigating Film Noir," outside the Society Hill Playhouse (Thursday, April 3, 2008).

Criminal: A Wolf Among Wolves

The latest installment of my favorite comic, Ed Brubaker's Criminal, hits shops today. Sitting on the fence about it, for some bizarre reason? Check out the 10-page preview Ed shared over at Warren Ellis's Whitechapel site. (Scroll down a bit for those pages.) Then stick around as Ed does the Q&A thing, and discusses his influences, crime novels, and the horrors of a low-salt diet.

Oh Yeah. We've Got a Missile Crisis

Will you please take a look at this? Today, Charles Ardai at Hard Case Crime revealed the imprint's January 2009 release: a Lawrence Block rarity called Killing Castro. I haven't been this excited about the early sixties since the first season of Mad Men. And I love that every January, Charles manages to coax another incredibly rare novel from Block's seemingly endless pseudonymous backlist. This, however, may be it. Charles writes: "All I'll say here is that this is by far the rarest of all Block's books. He wrote it under a pseudonym he never used before or since, it's never been published under his real name (or this title), and he couldn't even locate a copy of it himself for thirty years!"

But you? You can read a sample right here.

NoirCon Hangover: Georges Simenon

One of the highlights of NoirCon (this past weekend; no, I didn't blog about it this weekend; yes, I suck) was listening to Scott Phillips and Bill Boyle talk about Georges Simenon. For years I'd written ol' Georges off as the author of a detective series that looked a bit too stuffy for my tastes. Then Al Guthrie turned me on to his short "hard" (or "pure") novels, and the scales fell from eyes. Simenon's stuff can be as bleak as it gets, and that's what Scott and Bill discussed, as well as Simenon's amazing writing process and his love of simple language. I could have listened to those guys for hours, even though I was still suffering from a mind-crippling hangover at 2 p.m.

Coincidentally, Bruce Grossman over at Bookgasm mentioned a paperback called For Bond Lovers Only, a collection of James Bond/Ian Fleming essays, and it includes a piece about Fleming and Simenon. I read the "The Thriller Business" last night, and right in the middle is the best defense of the "short novel" I've ever heard. (This is Simenon talking.) Right on Georges! Anyway, For Bond Lovers Only is worth tracking down this piece alone.

"I have a theory about the novel. We do not write novels as they did in Dickens' time. For many reasons. First there is photography. We do not have to describe any more. Everybody has seen the Eiffel Tower. There are many problems we do not have to explain any more. What Balzac had to explain we do not have to. Now in every newspaper there are articles telling you almost everything. We do not have to write long novels any more. A novel ought to be read in one sitting. You would not go one day to see the first act of Hamlet and one week later the second. It is the same with the novel. This is why I choose to write short novels."

Right on Georges! Anyway, For Bond Lovers Only is worth tracking down this piece alone. The cheesecake shots of the Bond girls aren't bad, either.

Iron, Like a Lion, in Zion

Some cool news that I've been sitting on for... oh, quite a few months now: I'm going to be taking over The Immortal Iron Fist starting this July. For a kid who grew up on Saturday afternoon Kung Fu flicks, and used to jump around in his underwear, thinking he was Caine, to the tune of Carl Douglas's "Kung Fu Fighting," it's a dream gig. Leaving the book are mad geniuses Ed Brubaker and Matt Fraction, who have spent 16 (plus) issues building the coolest, freakiest, Kung Fu/action/pulp/adventure ever, and I can't tell you how thrilled I am to be stepping into Danny Rand's yellow Ninja boots. The new artist is Travel Foreman, and you can see a sample of his work (from our first issue) at left. If you don't think this looks cool, ask someone to check your pulse.

A bunch of interviews popped up today at various comics sites, if you want to hear more from myself, Brubaker, Fraction and Iron Fist editor Warren Simons.

Comic Book Resources (Dave Richards)
Newsarama (Steve Ekstrom)
Comics Bulletin (Dave Wallace)

Update: Now there's a story from Tim Stevens up at Marvel.com, too.

Price Lines

Last night I had the honor of introducing Richard Price at his Free Library of Philadelphia book tour stop. I've been a Price fan since Clockers, and was truly knocked out by his latest, Lush Life. So, of course, I spent a lot of time preparing some notes for my intro. It is not cool to sound like an idiot in front of one of your heroes.

I thought about what I really admired about Price's work, and realized that it's the same thing I love about Elmore Leonard and George Pelecanos: the raw, powerful street reporting that energizes the work. Price's method is to go somewhere and absorb his surroundings like a kind of psychic battery; it might be a year or so before a plot even develops. Last night, Price talked about how he knew he wanted to write about Manhattan's Lower East Side, so he just went there an opened up a conversation. One source led to another, which led to another... which is pretty much how good cops and reporters do their jobs. But it wasn't as if Price was chasing after a perp or a news hook. He just opened his eyes and ears and took it all in. The result is Lush Life, which is a fascinating look at a single neighborhood where at least six different worlds collide... and a murder investigation that slices through all of them like a tracer bullet.

I tried to capture some of this in my short intro; I hope it came across.

Then Price took the stage to read from Lush Life, and he just killed. He handled rapid-fire conversation between multiple characters without any of the usual contortions/voices you might hear from another writer. Every punchline, every piece of dialogue, every pause was dead perfect. He could have kept reading for two hours, and he wouldn't have lost a soul. This is rare. I've been at too many readings where after 10 minutes I'm like, Get me the fuck out of here.

(Note to self: Channel Richard Price at next reading.)

Afterwards, a bunch of us had drinks with Price, which was a blast. We ended up at McCrossen's Tavern, a few blocks away from the library. Conversation wound around cities, novels, kids, sports, childhood obsessions... but the coolest discovery? Price is a fan of old-school horror—Gothic horror novels, Arkham House editions, Twilight Zone episodes—as well as 1950s/60s satire mags like Mad and Help! Of course, I shouldn't be surprised. Price's novels are packed with that same blend of gallows humor.

Big thanks to Andy Kahan at the Free Library for inviting me to the event, as well as Mr. Pettit and Mr. Wolkow, who helped make it look like Price had employed the biggest, nerdiest bodyguards ever.

Update: Over at Phawker, Jeff Deeney serves up an excellent recap of last night's event.