Parenting Will Kill You

A few updates from the nerdery:

Cable #7 is out tomorrow, and it's the first issue of the next story arc, "Waiting for the End of the World." (CRB has a preview right here.) At left, however, is the insanely fucking cool Richard Corben zombie variant cover. I love Corben's work. I'm very fond of zombies. This makes my day.

Also, the hardcover edition of the first Cable arc, Messiah War (formerly known as "War Baby"), is now available at comic shops everywhere. Amazon also has it at a fairly sweet discount. There's a trade paperback edition out in early January 2009, but why wait?

And finally, I just learned that last week's one shot, Wolverine: Roar, is sold out and headed for a second printing. Thanks to everyone who picked up a copy last week!

Hard Case Crime: The Musical

Okay, maybe not quite. (Though with American Psycho: The Musical, anything's possible, right?) Check out this interesting tidbit from HCC head honcho Charles Ardai's latest email newsletter:

We're also working on an exciting project with a burlesque troupe that will include a crime novel set in the world of burlesque (written by one of the performers) and a live stage show in New York based on the book (starring the author and the cover models).

I'm guessing it's Allan Guthrie, making his triumphant return to the paperback house that launched him in the U.S.

(I know he has the pasties.)

Opening Shots: Blossom

The sun dropped on the far side of the Hudson River like it knew what was coming.

Blossom
by Andrew Vachss
(Knopf, 1990)

One-Shot Times Two

Those one-shots I've been yapping about for a while now—The Immortal Iron Fist: Orson Randall and the Death Queen of California and Wolverine: Roar—hit comics shops yesterday. Oddly enough, I was actually in California yesterday, but didn't have time to pick up any copies until today. And my holy goodness do they look awesome. Forget the words and crap; just check out the art. Giuseppe Camuncoli's "cinematography" (check the credits!) in Death Queen is cool, sexy and kinetic. Mike Deodato, meanwhile, brings to life the gruesome little horror movie I've had in my mind for years. I'm so lucky to have been paired up with these gentlemen.

Also, let me not be a douche who doesn't tip his hat to the colorists, who also knocked these suckers out of the park: Paul Mounts, in the case of Death Queen, and Val Staples with Wolverine.

This may seem odd, but I don't see the finished versions of any comic I write until the day it's published. Sure, I see the color art as it comes in, and I proofread a black and white .pdf of the lettered version a few weeks before it ships. But release day is the first time I see the whole thing come together. And that includes the cover. (I was surprised to learn that Wolverine: Roar was actually titled Wolverine Annual #2.)

Hope you guys enjoy these if you have a chance to pick them up.

You Know You Can't Control Yourself Any Longer

Lou Boxer has posted a new treasure trove of David Goodis photos. (Goodis, of course, is the patron saint of Philadelphia noir writing.) Everybody party!

Opening Shots: Night of Thunder

Brother Richard liked it loud. He punched the iPod up all the way until the music hammered in his brain, its force beating away like some banshee howl from the high, dark mountains hidden behind the screen of rushing trees. He was holding at eight-five miles her hour, even through the turns, though that took a surgeon's skill, a miracle of guts and timing.

Night of Thunder
by Stephen Hunter
(Simon and Shuster, 2008)

Yapping and Roaring

Over at CBR.com, Dave Richards and I chat about Wolverine: Roar, the one-shot (with art by Mike Deodato) that's out next Wednesday.

And earlier in the week, I yapped with Peter Jaffe over at Comixology.com about next week's Immortal Iron Fist one-shot, Cable stuff, and a bunch of other assorted topics. The podcast is available for the downloading right here.

James Crumley, 1939-2008

The Missoulian has reported that James Crumley died yesterday afternoon, which is incredibly sad news. You can't overstate the influence Crumley had on the generations of crime writers to follow in his wake, from Michael Connelly, Laura Lippman, George Pelecanos and Dennis Lehane, to whippersnappers like Ray Banks, Dave White and Anthony Neil Smith (and countless others). He was certainly a huge influence on me, which is why I was so ridiculously nervous about approaching him at Bouchercon 2005 in Chicago a little over three years ago. Al Guthrie can attest to this. We saw Crumley approaching the hotel bar, and part of me so very badly wanted to say hello, buy him a drink, tell him how much his work meant to me. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. He was JAMES CRUMLEY for God's sake, and who was I to bother him? I was paralyzed. Al laughed, shook his head at me. I went up to my room.

Less than a year later, I was able to finally meet him, and even sat on a panel with him at Con Misterio in Austin. But still, I was starstruck into dumb silence, even though we'd technically worked together on the geezer noir anthology, Damn Near Dead--Crumley had graciously supplied the introduction.

I just reread that intro. Here are the opening lines:

People often suggest that life should be a learning experience. Perhaps something like a nice, small Southern liberal arts, with a final exam, which if you pass, lets you drift softly into a pleasant eternity. If life is like college, I've screwed up again; I missed the assignment.

Crumley's life was by no means soft, but I pray he's gone to that pleasant eternity. And I hope he knows how much he's respected and admired by those left behind.

But God, I wish I'd had the balls to buy him that drink in Chicago.

Addendum: Be sure to check out Laura's interview with Crumley, reprinted from Crimespree, over at her blog. Essential reading.

Three Words: Robo. Fat. Cobra.

Here's a sneak peek at this December's stand-alone issue of Iron Fist. If this month's stand-alone ("Orson Randall and the Death Queen of California") is Iron Fist gettin' his Hammett, McCoy and Cain on, then December is all about Iron Fist gettin' his Bester, Dick and (Harlan) Ellison on. (Have I mentioned before that I love how this series can straddle so many damn genres?) Look for this one right around the holidays.

IMMORTAL IRON FIST #21
Written by DUANE SWIERCZYNSKI
Pencils by TRAVEL FOREMAN
Cover by JUAN DOE
Danny Rand was not the first Immortal Iron Fist...and he won’t be the last! The year – 3099. The place – a distant planet first colonized a millennium ago by the People’s Republic of China. Now, a humanity oppressed by a totalitarian technological tyrant has just one hope for salvation – the kung-fu freedom-fighting of the Immortal Iron Fist! But his coming is nothing more than a prophecy and a silent prayer...and even if the Iron Fist does arrive, he must first defeat the most powerful weapon the evil robot empire has...Robo Fat-Cobra! Hot off the heels of Duane Swierczynski and Travel Foreman’s rip-roaring “MORTAL IRON FIST” arc comes an all-new look at the future legacy of the Immortal Iron Fist...with a jaw-dropping cover by Juan Doe!
32 PGS./Rated T+ ...$2.99

Opening Shots: A Fredric Brown Sampler

Late this morning I found a dead man in my backyard.

The Lenient Beast
by Fredric Brown
(Dutton, 1956)






Sudden terror in her eyes, Jenny backed away from the knife, her hand gripping behind her for the knob of the kitchen door. She was too frightened to scream and ayway there was no one to hear, no one but the man who came toward her with the knife--and he was mad, he must be mad. Her hand found the knob and turned it; the door swung outward into the night and she whirled through it, running. Death ran after her.

Eight years passed.

Then:

The Far Cry
by Fredric Brown
(Dutton, 1951)


You can never tell what a drunken Irishman will do.

The Screaming Mimi
by Fredric Brown
(Dutton, 1949)






Her name was Joyce Dugan, and at four o'clock on this February afternoon she had no remote thought that within the hour before closing time she was about to commit an act that would instigate a chain of murders.

His Name Was Death
by Fredric Brown
(Dutton, 1954)

Fredric Brown Said It

"There are no rules. You can write a story, if you wish, with no conflict, no suspense, no beginning, no middle, or end. Of course, you have to be regarded as a genius to get away with it, and that's the hardest part—convincing everybody you're a genius."


From Walt Sheldon's "My Friend Fredric Brown," reprinted in The Big Book of Noir, edited by Ed Gorman, Lee Server and Martin H. Greenberg. I love that Brown kept a flyswatter within reach.

Fredric Brown... California writer?

In case you missed it, Ed Gorman shared some cool news in the comment section from Monday's "Opening Shots" post: there's going to be a new, limited edition of Fredric Brown's carnival noir, Madball. I own a Gold Medal edition of Madball, but I'm afraid to read it, because one false move and the thing will crumble.

This news sent me back to Jack Seabrook's Martians and Misplaced Clues, which is an excellent survey of Brown's work. I was suprised to learn that Brown wrote Madball in Venice, California, along with another mystery novel, The Deep End, and the novelette version of "The Wench is Dead." (A year later, he'd write one of my favorite crime novels, His Name Was Death, in El Segundo.)

For some reason, I always considered Brown a Milwaukee/Chicago/Taos/Tucson writer (with some early years in NYC). I totally forgot about the two and a half years he spent in California. The Venice thing was interesting to me, because I've spent quite a bit of time there over the summer, and even went as far as walking around the neighborhood, looking for Ray Bradbury's old address (no luck; the house was long gone).

Does anybody out there know where Brown lived while in Venice? (Or El Segundo, for that matter?) According to Seabrook, Brown and his wife Beth moved to a small house in Venice "with a goldfish pond and a large yard" in January 1952. They eventually left Southern California and moved to Tucson, Arizona in June 1954 because of Brown's severe allergies. I'd love to track down either place the next time I'm out there.

And in honor of Brown, I'm going to post a bunch of my favorite Brown opening lines for this Monday's "Opening Shots." Check back then.

The Nerdery Comes to Bouchercon

This just in from Jon Jordan and Bouchercon Headquarters. If you're going to B'Con, hopefully you'll stop by.

Geppi’s Entertainment Museum Welcomes Bouchercon Crime Authors Come to Baltimore

In celebration of the arrival of Bouchercon XXXIX, the preeminent annual gathering of crime fiction authors, editors, artists and fans, and in conjunction with Crimespree magazine, Geppi’s Entertainment Museum (GEM) will host a signing on Friday, October 10, 2008, from 1:00 PM to 3:30 PM, at the museum’s 301 West Camden Street facility in Baltimore.

Guests for the signing at GEM included crime comic book writer Brian Azzarello (100 Bullets), artist Jill Thompson (Scary Godmother), novelist and comic book writer Greg Rucka (Whiteout, Queen & Country), crime novelist and comic book writer Duane Swierczynski (Severance Package, The Immortal Iron Fist), crime novelist and online comic book writer Tim Broderick (Cash & Carry, Children of the Revolution), crime novelist and comic book writer Gary Phillips (Shooter’s Point, High Rollers), crime novelist, comic strip writer, comic book writer and filmmaker Max Allan Collins (Road to Perdition, Ms. Tree), and crime novelist and comic book writer Victor Gischler (Shotgun Opera, Punisher).

“Geppi’s Entertainment Museum is something that every fan of popular culture should see at least once, if not more,” said Jon Jordan, Editor of Crimespree. “Crime fiction has long been a vibrant, vital part of American pop culture and it can be found in the pulps, comic strips, comic books, radio programs, television shows, and movie material featured at GEM.”

“The old walls between the world of prose fiction and non-fiction on one side and comic books on the other have been shattered in the last few years by people like Max Allan Collins and the other Bouchercon guests who will be signing here at the museum,” said Dr. Arnold T. Blumberg, GEM’s Curator. “This is a great celebration of that.”

Geppi’s Entertainment Museum, which opened to the public in September 2006, is dedicated the promoting the awareness of the inexorable link between the history of popular culture and general history, with a specific focus on the role of popular culture in the United States in educating children since the nation’s founding. The facility is designed to guide guests along its walk-though timeline, showing each of the eras of popular culture in detail.

The museum is located at 301 West Camden Street, Baltimore, MD 212201. Additional information is available at www.geppismuseum.com.

Swierczy's Double, Orson Randall's Threesome

There's a short feature at Marvel.com highlighting my next two comics, both of which drop on the same day (September 24): Immortal Iron Fist: Orson Randall and the Death Queen of California and Wolverine: Roar. There's also a slew of preview pages, which include the kinda kinky panel you see above. (I think it's kinky; the Bride looked at it and just thought it was weird.) Both are oversized issues (34 pages each) and self-contained stories, which means if you're new to comics, you can pick up either of one of these issues and not worry about back issue muss and fuss. Because I know that's what's been holding you back.

Also in the Me, Me, Me Department: Brian Lindenmuth posted his very kind Severance Package review over at Bookspot Central. It's so kind, I don't even mind he dredged up the whole "not living up to his potential" stuff from earlier this summer.

King-Size? Yes. Spectacular? You Be the Judge

Out this Wednesday: King-Size Cable Spectacular #1. (Marvel has a bunch of preview pages up.) I originally planned this story to be Cable #7 and #8, an action-packed two-parter that would be followed by the next major arc ("Waiting for the End of the World," which kicks off in October). But when I was reviewing the outline with my editor, Axel Alonso, we both agreed it'd be better as one massive blast o' Cable, hence this 43-pager. About the title: since this issue is bigger than your usual 22-page comic, I once jokingly referred to it as the "King-Size Cable Spectacular," and damn if the name didn't stick. (King-Size, of course, is a Marvel title tradition; the "spectacular" part was me being silly.)

Of course, Matt Fraction has already one-upped me: according to a recent Twitter post, he's working on an upcoming "God-Sized Thor" spectacular. Can't wait to see the page count on that baby.

Opening Shots: Knock Three-One Two

He had a name, but it doesn't matter; call him the psycho.

Knock Three-One-Two
by Fredric Brown
(Dutton, 1959)

This is one of my favorite Brown novels—right up there with His Name Was Death. And it's absolutely screaming to be reprinted.

Bacall, Bogie and Goodis

Aaron Finestone unearths another great, rare David Goodis photo, and interviews cousin April Feld Sandor, who received some career advice from Goodis when she was a just a teenager. Essential reading for you Goodis freaks out there.

Today's NYT: Full of People I Know

Hanna's on her way, so first thing this morning I scooped up the blue New York Times bag from my front stoop and rushed back inside before the 50 mph winds could get me. I unpacked the paper and saw that Laura Lippman's serial, "The Girl in the Green Raincoat," begins today in the Times Magazine. It's a Tess Monaghan story, and it has a kick-ass opener:

“I’m being held hostage,” Tess Monaghan whispered into her iPhone to her friend Whitney. “By a terrorist. The agenda is unclear, the demands vague, but she’s prepared to hold me here for at least 12 weeks. Twelve weeks or 18 years, depending on how you look at it.”

As always with these NYT serials, I'm torn: do I read it week by week, or save 'em up so I can gorge all at once? I'm so damn impatient. I guess I really should enjoy this one as it was intended: in lazy Sunday doses, with eggs and/or bloody maries.

But Laura's not the only Friend of Secret Dead Blog in the Paper of Record. Turn to the front section of Saturday's paper, and there's Ed "Poe Boy" Pettit, making the case for stealing Edgar Allan Poe's body (and legacy). I still think it's amazing that Ed's 15-second pitch over beers and bison burgers in Old City has turned into this multi-city lit war. I love it. If you want to see Ed do the Poe thing live, he'll be on a Bouchercon Poe panel early Friday morning. Not sure if he'll be able to sneak a pipe in, though...

Pettit photo by Jennifer Kourkounis for the New York Times.

Opening Shots: Deadline

When his girlfriend greeted him at the door dressed only in a T-shirt and thong, then kissed him hard on the mouth without a word before pulling him into her ground-floor bedroom, she was so worked up she didn't even notice that he was wearing gloves.

Deadline
by Simon Kernick
(Corgi, 2008)

Note: This is only available in a UK edition (so far), but I was able to order a copy through Murder By the Book in Houston, Texas.

Fall Begins with a Roar

There are some preview pages of my upcoming Wolverine one-shot, "Roar," (with art by the amazing Mike Deodato, Jr.) over at MajorSpoilers.com. The basic idea for this story has been kicking around my head since high school. I even took a stab at writing it as a horror novel back in sophomore year of college (at which point the working title was the fairly pretentious Sound at the Edge... see what taking Creative Writing will do to you?). Like most of my novel attempts back then, it ambled along for nine or ten pages before sputtering out like a wet cigarette. It sat in the back of my mind until a year ago, when I was offered the chance to write a Wolverine story. Then suddenly, it clicked (or, snikt, as it were) into place. You never know when an old idea will suddenly sit up and demand attention.