Danny Rand Goes to Hell

If you can't wait until next Wednesday, Comics Bulletin has a seven page preview of Immortal Iron Fist #22, the first issue of the new story arc, "Escape From the Eighth City." Kung Fu Superhero Horror Action awaits you...

Legends of the Underwood #6: Orrie Hitt

Hitt had a grinding regimen, twelve-hour days in front of an aged Remington Royal perched on the kitchen table, surrounded by iced coffee, noisy children and Winston cigarettes, pausing only for supper or to watch wrestling or Sergeant Bilko on the television. Hitt produced a novel every two weeks, for which he was paid as little as $250.

—Lee Server in Over My Dead Body: The Sensational Age of the American Paperback: 1945-1955

(Sixth in a series. Hitt was a master of the... um, erotic paperback original, in case you were thinking of ordering up a stack. Also, Server's book is very highly recommended.)

Update: James Reasoner, a modern-day Legend of the Underwood himself, heard from Orrie Hitt's daughter. Read all about it here.

Legends of the Underwood #5: Richard S. Prather

For years I was on just about a 26-hour day. I wasn't going anywhere...all I did was write. I might start working at ten o'clock in the morning and go to bed about two the next morning, then wake up at ten o’clock and start the cycle over again at noon. Every day it was about two hours later, rotating like that. I just thought of it as a 26-hour day... The biggest day I ever had was here in Arizona when I was working on Dead-Bang. I worked 24 hours straight and did 24,000 words. I think when it goes that well and goes that fast, it's the best stuff you can do.

—Richard S. Prather, from an interview with Dean Davis at the Richard S. Prather/Shell Scott Website

(Fifth in a series.)

Legends of the Underwood #4: Michael Avallone

[Avallone was] the self-proclaimed "Fastest Typewriter in the East" and "The King of the Paperbacks," who claimed to have written over a thousand works, almost all paperback originals... He once completed a novel in a day and a half. One story goes that he wrote a 1,500-word short story in 20 minutes, while dining in a New York restaurant. One year, he supposedly churned out 27 books.

—Kevin Burton Smith, from his entry on Avallone at The Thrilling Detective Website

(Fourth in a series. Illustration by Frank Hamilton from Paperback Parade #3. Avallone's writing desk, complete with cigarette burns, is currently on display at Port Richmond Books in Philadelphia, PA.)

Legends of the Underwood #3: Richard Bachman

Completed in a blind heat—The Running Man was written in a mere 72 hours—it was declined by at least two New York publishers before consignment to the desk drawer that would later spawn four [Richard] Bachman novels. "It's nothing but story," says [Stephen] King. "It moves with the goofy speed of a silent movie, and anything which is not story is cheerfully thrown over the side.

—Douglas E. Winter, Appendix A to Stephen King: The Art of Darkness

(Third in a series.)

Legends of the Underwood #2: Richard Matheson

I wrote Fury on Sunday in three days. We lived in an apartment right near the beach I used for Someone Is Bleeding. I had a little typewriter, my old Standard Corona that I got when I was twelve years old from my sister at Christmas, and I sat in a closet and banged the thing out in three days. That's why some of the writing is quite interesting, because it's really stream of consciousness.

—Richard Matheson, quoted in Matthew R. Bradley's introduction to Noir: Three Novels of Suspense

(Second in a series.)

Legends of the Underwood #1: Gil Brewer

Sometimes, he drove himself mercilessly, once writing a book in three days—later another in five. The books were excellent, but after each, he fell into bed in nervous exhaustion. Only alcohol and pills helped him to sleep. For years he’d had to take medications. It was not new to combine the two.

—Verlaine Morris Lee Brewer on her late husband, paperback noir writer Gil Brewer.

(First in a series.)

The Blonde Goes to Japan

This was a nice surprise by mail today: copies of the Japanese edition of my 2006 novel, The Blonde. (Click on the image for a larger view.) The publisher is Hayakawa, who will also be bringing out an edition of Severance Package sometime this year. I really like the cover, with little motion lines off the title words, and a sultry blonde whose eye color rather creepily matches her lipstick. (Maybe a side effect of Proximity?) But I also really like the feel of the book itself, which is a little shorter that American mass market paperbacks, and features better quality paper and a nice little dustjacket, even though it is, indeed, a paperback. I'd happily tuck this into a pocket... if I could read Japanese. What do you guys think?

Relics of a Noir Writer

Above is a photo of a thank-you note from David Goodis sent to Dutch Silver back in the mid-1960s. We passed it around the table and joked about taking some DNA from the back of the stamp and creating a Goodis clone who would be promptly chained to a typewriter and made to write more novels. (Hand model: Ed Pettit.)

And finally, the 10 video clips I shot have been posted to YouTube. Not kidding about the "finally" part... sons of bitches seemed to take forever to upload. The sound is kind of on the sucky side, thanks to the icy wind whipping through the cemetery. For optimum viewing pleasure (and if your connection speed is up to it) definitely hit the "Watch in HD" tab. You'll be able to fully enjoy my Cloverfield-style shakycam footage in crisp high definition.

Here's a sample: Mr. Pettit reading from Down There. (You don't know how tempted I was to call the clip "Ed Pettit Goes Down.")

The Goodis Graveside Memorial

I returned a short while ago from the David Goodis memorial service, and a noir time was had by all. About a dozen of us braved the bitter January cold to read from the man's work, share pieces of Goodis biography/trivia with each other, and relive a little bit of GoodisCon, held a little more than two years ago this month.

After Goodis's funeral in 1967, a small group of friends gathered at the Toddle House in Logan. That bar is long gone, so we ventured to the nearby Clubhouse Diner in Bensalem, PA, where we sipped beer, ate salad and burgers, and talked Goodis. Here's a shot of the Goodis Crew '09. From left to right: Peter Rozovsky, Stacy Shreffler, Eric Rice, Lou Boxer, Aaron Finestone, Dutch Silver, Thomas Whitehead, Ed "Philly Poe Guy" Pettit, Andrew Kevorkian. Holding the camera: me.

I'm in the process of uploading about seven video clips to YouTube; I'll post links/embed them when they're ready later tonight. And check back for the next entry, which includes a nice little Goodis relic (courtesy Dutch Silver).

Sunday With David Goodis

... or, at least, his mortal remains. Tomorrow brings the graveside memorial service for noir legend David Goodis (above center). I'll be there along with the Philly Poe Guy, my digital camera and my HD Flip recorder to capture as much of the event as possible. Check back tomorrow night for photos and (hopefully) some actual HD footage.

Another Teenage Dream Come True

And that would be my name in the current Fangoria magazine (#280, with Jason Voorhees on the over).

No, seriously, you don't understand. I've been a devoted Fango reader since #80, February 1989 (cover story: I, Madman), which I picked up at the now-closed Marlo Bookshop in Northeast Philly's Roosevelt Mall. I still remember the sell line at the top: "How to be a horror screenwriter." As an aspiring horror writer, this magazine was my Bible. Naturally, I gravitated to the word nerd sections the most: the "Nightmare Library" book reviews, Q&As with Clive Barker and Stephen King, guest features by John Skipp and Craig Spector, and the always-excellent "Raving and Drooling" column by David J. Schow (the latter collected in the highly-recommended Wild Hairs). To this day, Fango is my favorite magazine, along with The New Yorker. I'm not kidding, nor being ironic. Put me on a desert island with active subscriptions to these two magazines and I'd do okay.

So when Werewolf By Night finally had a firm release date, I asked my friend Brian (Castaways, Dead of Night: Devil Slayer) Keene if he knew anyone at Fango, and he was generous enough to put me in touch with the "Comic Screams" columnist, Daniel Dickholtz. No, sir, I'm not too proud to pimp myself to Fango. The result? A nice full-page piece that highlights some supercool Mico Suayan art and some yapping from me. Basically, a teenage dream come true.

And I can't help but note that the piece appears exactly 200 issues after the first one I ever bought. My seventeen-year-old self wouldn't have believed it.

New York Comic Con 2009

Yes! I am attending! Even if the NY Comic Con website doesn't seem to think so.

You'll be able to catch me at two events, the first being an off-campus event at Jim Hanley's Universe on Thursday, February 5 at 6 p.m. I'll be signing with Giuseppe Camuncoli (my collaborator on Immortal Iron Fist: Orson Randall and the Death Queen of California), C.B. Cebulski, Gabriele Dell'Otto, Stefano Caselli, Johnathan Hickman and Glen Brunswick. I had a great time when I signed at the store last year, and I'm looking forward to hanging out again.

And then as part of the official Con programming, I'll be on the X-Men Panel the next day, from 3:15 until 4:15 p.m. And then signing at the Marvel Booth (#1141) from 5 until 6 p.m.

Beyond that, I'm sure I'll be wandering the floor in a daze, recording little snippets for this blog (thanks to the wonders of the HD Flip camera). Be sure to stop me and say hello.

And That's An Order

Today's mail brought three copies of Letzte Order, which is the German edition of my latest novel, Severance Package. "Letzte Order," according to Secret Dead Blog's in-house team of translators, means "Last Order" (or perhaps "Final Order"), both of which certainly apply. But man, do I love this cover. (Click on it for a larger version.) It has the champagne, as well as a nice hint of blood. (Okay, maybe it's more than a hint.) It carries over the look of my first German edition (The Blonde, a.k.a., Blondes Gift, a.k.a. Blonde Poison). And while there are no sweet Dennis (X-Men Noir) Calero illustrations inside, the folks at Heyne did include their own version of the handwritten "death list," which was fun to see.

And I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a thrill from the line at the bottom: "Vom Autor Des Bestsellers Blondes Gift," which I'm pretty sure means "From the Author of the Bestselling Blonde Poison." (It's true; that book was a bestseller over there.)

What do you guys think? If you spoke German, you'd pick this up, right?

(And for those of you who are new to Secret Dead Blog, here's why I'm Duane Louis in Germany.)

Six Hours in Five Days

Next week brings Punisher: Frank Castle #66, the first issue of my arc, "Six Hours to Kill" (with superstud Canadian artist Michel Lacombe). You can read me yapping about it with CBR's Dave Richards.

This Means War...

... Messiah War, that is, which is a big X-Men mini-series kicking off this March. It's the official sequel to X-Men: Messiah Complex, and will play out over issues of X-Force and Cable. For more details, check out IGN's Richard George Q&A with me and Chris Yost right here.

(I was visiting the Marvel office earlier today, actually, kicking around some Cable cover concepts with X-Editors Axel Alonso, Sebastian Girner, John Barber and Jody LeHeup. Meanwhile, on the other side of Manhattan, a hero pilot saved 155 lives with a spectacular water landing in the Hudson River. Tell me today wasn't full of magic.)

Oh, Honey

Lester Dent is best known for the bajillion Doc Savage pulp stories he wrote during the 1930s. According to Lee Server 's Encyclopedia of Pulp Fiction Writers, Dent started to turn his hand to crime fiction in the mid-1940s, and even sold a hardboiled novel called Cry at Dusk to Gold Medal in 1952. And then, that was it. Dent retired from the pulp and paperback game... until now. Charles Ardai, somehow, has managed to find an unpublished hardboiled Dent novel called Honey in His Mouth; Hard Case will be publishing it this October. You can check out a sample chapter right here. I'm routinely stunned by the gems Ardai digs up; October can't come soon enough. I want to read everything right now, damnit!

Miniature Manhattan

Just discovered the Tilt-Shift Maker (thanks to Boing Boing), which makes your ordinary photos look all miniature-y and surreal. Above, midtown Manhattan, shot from the Top of the Rock in early December. (Click on it for a closer look.) Yes, I should be working instead of doing this. But as Jack Torrance told us in The Shining, all work and no play makes Swierczy a dull boy.

Thrown to the Wolves

Two new Swierczy comics out today: Cable #10, which is the conclusion of the "Waiting for the End of the World" arc. One thing of note: finally, after nine issues (and a King-sized special), the Messiah Girl gets a name. No, it's not "Duanina." Check out the issue for more.

Also out: my first issue of Dead of Night: Werewolf By Night #1, with art by the amazing Mico Suayan (of Moon Knight fame). As I've yapped about previously, WBN was the first comic I ever read, and it's been an incredible treat to tell a Jack Russell story of my own. If you're into horror, I hope you'll give it a try. You can check out the first eight gore-soaked pages right here. And here's me talkin' Werewolf with CBR.com's Dave Richards.

Donald Westlake (a.k.a. Richard Stark) 1933-2008

So sad to be in a world where Donald Westlake won't be writing any more novels. I discovered Westlake in Stephen King's The Dark Half; in an afterword, King talked about how fictional tough-guy writer George Stark was modeled on Westlake's "Richard Stark" alter ego. I was 17 years old, and I remember thinking I really needed to track down some stuff by this Stark guy. But this was an internet-less 1989, and I couldn't find a single one, in print or used. Life moved on. In 1997, I read and loved a novel called The Ax by Donald Westlake, and later remembered that, oh yeah, this was that Stark guy. The first Stark novel I found was The Damsel, a beat-to-hell Signet edition I found on the bargain shelves at Otto Penzler's Mysterious Bookshop. (Shelves, I later learned, that Westlake helped build.) I read it in a gulp, and craved more. By that time, Stark had resumed writing the Parker novels, and slowly... very, very slowly... older Starks returned to print. In the years that followed, I finally managed to track down all of the original Parker (and Grofield) novels, from The Hunter through Butcher's Moon. If there's a better series of American crime novels, I have yet to discover it.

And of course, I devoured all of the Westlakes I could find. I enjoyed them all, but loved the harder-edged stuff the best: The Ax, Killing Time, 361, The Hook, Don't Lie to Me, Murder Among Children, Killy, The Smashers (a.k.a. The Mercenaries).

But it was Stark's novels about Parker, a tough amoral heister with no first name, that really grabbed me. So much so that when I decided to write a straight crime novel, I wrote one about a mute getaway driver named Lennon. Needless to say, The Wheelman owes a serious debt to Richard Stark. So do a lot of other tough guy novels in the Stark mode, including Max Allan Collins' Nolan series, Garry Disher's Wyatt, and more recently Dan Simmons' Joe Kurtz and Tom Piccirilli's Chase. None of these would have happened without Stark blazing the trail, inventing a subgenre with a form as strict (and beautiful) as a sonnet.

My wife and I even named our first-born son Parker, in honor of both the Richard Stark character (as well as Peter Parker, the Amazing Spider-Man).

A year and a half ago, I was lucky enough to meet Westlake at the MWA Edgar Awards. Sarah Weinman introduced us, and I believe I just stood there, trying like hell not to say something stupid/stammer/collapse. Thankfully, Westlake was gracious, funny, and totally laid back. I shook his hand, and thanked him for his "body of work" (or something geeky like that). Incidentally, this was the Edgars where Stephen King received the MWA Grandmaster Award. I wish I could have gathered both of them in the same place to tell them: You two! You're the ones who did this to me! And God, I can't thank you enough.

I'm very sad about Westlake's passing, but I am hugely grateful for the large body of work he left behind. And the best way to honor a departed writer is to re-read their work and promote it to those who haven't had the pleasure. So if you haven't, pick up 361. Or the University of Chicago Press edition of The Hunter. Or The Ax (which is wayyyyy timely all of a sudden). Or maybe start with Hard Case's The Cutie, a reprint due next month that was Westlake's first crime novel (published as The Mercenaries). And then you can read them all in order.

People die, but stories and novels have that odd shot at immortality. I really like Westlake's chances.