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Booklist Loves CHUM

BUY ME

BUY ME

Booklist thinks every American should be reading my newest novel CHUM:

““Mary and Bickerman have always been at the center of their social circle, a rowdy group happy to share postcollegiate, booze-fueled shenanigans. Holidays are punctuated by raucous parties, drunken confessions, tears, fights, and uneasy sleep. Through the fog of alcohol and shared memories, loyalties are tested, allegiances are broken, new friendships are cemented, and a grisly secret is shared. While Mary and Bickerman’s marriage is nothing to emulate, the novel’s deeply flawed characters are surprisingly relatable. From the frequently misunderstood Tom to the preternaturally gorgeous Miriam, readers will see pieces of themselves, significant others, close friends, or fellow drinking buddies in the diverse crew. Highlighting the tension often found in even close-knit groups, Somers uses different members of the social circle to narrate shared events and private monologues. As the reader gains perspective on the nonlinear story, shocking secrets soon come to light. Combining elements of Jonathan Tropper, Tom Perrotta, and Augusten Burroughs, Somers’ incisive, pull-no-punches examination of adult friendship is refreshingly witty. Tautly paced and expertly assembled, Chum is a darkly comic, deeply insightful, and wildly original novel.

Huzzahs to me.

FREAKS of the INDUSTRY: Two Days in the UnCanny Valley of New York Comic Con

Since I’m returning to the hallowed halls of NY Comic Con for the first time since 2009, I figured it was a good time to revisit this essay from The Inner Swine that dealt with my previous experience.

MY NAME is Jeff Somers and I’m a writer. I’ve written a lot of things you almost certainly have never ever heard of but currently I’m most known for the Avery Cates series published by Orbit Books. People think that being a published author is a glamorous life filled with champagne and solid gold toilets but let me set you straight: I spend my days with four cats wandering my house in a tattered bathrobe clutching a bottle of booze to my chest and muttering.

Since the Avery Cates books are Science Fiction novels and are by the way the greatest novels ever written in the English language and if you don’t buy copies IMMEDIATELY you will suffer from cultural illiteracy and be mocked at parties, it was decided that I should attend this year’s New York Comic Con as a Literary Guest, where I would attempt to charm and bamboozle the good, pious fans of the Earth into paying some small attention to me. So I gathered my courage, put on some pants, and with my wife The Duchess in tow and we headed off to Two Days in the Uncanny Valley of the Javits Convention Center in New York.

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NYC Comic Con, Here I Come

nyccSO, I will be attending Comic Con in NYC this October – your prayers have been answered, whether those prayers have to do with seeing me in person at a huge event or knowing precisely where I will be one day this month in order to rob my house while I am absent. And several scenarios in-between, ranging from assassination to leaving $9.2 million in drug money in my living room so I can establish an irrevocable trust in your son’s name.

DATE & TIME: Most of this is to TBD, but I’ll be there on Thursday October 10.

WHY IN GOD’S NAME: I’ll be signing and giving away free copies of Part 1 of my upcoming novel We Are Not Good People, otherwise known as Trickster. If you read Trickster this year and thought you’d read the whole book, you would be wrong. It’s just part 1.

Oh, I’ll also do other things: Sign anything, be giving away whatever I have in my pockets, dancing for nickles, and generally abusing myself.

If you’re going to be at NYCC yourself on the 10th, let me know and let’s try to meet up, chat, have coffee, whatever. If you’re there on another day, let me know anyway and maybe we can meet outside the con (my badge is just for the 10th). Email me at jdxs@jeffreysomers.com if you want to try to get together.

ONWARD!

The Little Contest

BUY ME

BUY ME

So, as almost none of you were apparently aware, I was holding a contest for signed copies of my new novel Chum, and exactly seven folks entered. Perhaps the entry was a bit too convoluted – I admit it.

Live and learn. Or live and drink. Either way, I win.

Still, the entries I did get were wayyyyy cool. I asked people to surf on over to the official Chum Website and leave a guestbook message for the fictional couple that star in the book, Dave and Mary. I planned to award a signed copy of the book to the ten most creative entries. We only got seven total. Apparently I am not as famous and hip as I thought I am.

But the entries I did get were pretty awesome. Here they are, with commentary:

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The Greatest Trick the Devil Ever Pulled: Breaking Bad, “Ozymandias”

Despair.

Despair.

NOTE: Are there spoilers here? OF COURSE THERE ARE.

I’m a huge fan of Breaking Bad. I may have posted about it here before, in fact. At this point I think the only people who don’t think Breaking Bad is easily one of the greatest TV shows ever are those effetes who refuse to own a TV because obviously and those who refuse to watch it out of some sort of weird pride. And, of course, small children.

For the rest of us, it’s been one hell of a ride. An almost perfect show, with very few weak spots. And the last episode, Ozymandias, was one of the few times in my life I’ve sat with my mouth open for an extended period of time. I could have easily been photographed and inserted as the example illustration under the head MIND: BLOWN.

I thought the previous episode, To’hajiilee was just slightly slow. Not bad, mind you, just … somewhat deliberately paced. I enjoyed moments of that episode immensely and overall would give it an 8 or 9 out of 10. But it felt like they held back a little, and it was irritating. And then in Ozymandias, Vine Gilligan and company did the impossible: They made Walter White the hero of the story.

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Saturday is Guitar Day

Epiphone Les Paul CustomStare into the abyss that is my music, and the abyss will rock your world. Or possibly just stare back at you.

Here, songs:

Song595
Song596
Song597
Song598
Song600
Song604

Why do I do this to you? More importantly, why do I do it to myself? I dunno. I got the music in me, I suppose.

The usual disclaimer: 1. I admit these are not great music; 2. I claim copyright anyway, so there; 3. No, I cannot do anything about the general quality of the mix, as I am incompetent.

Where “Gone Home” Went Wrong

SPOILERS: There are many. If you’re foolish enough to fear spoilers, don’t read this. YE BEEN WARNED.

gh1So, Gone Home is a video game. Maybe you’ve heard of it, either because of its shocking nature as a first-person game created by some of the folks who worked on Bioshock that doesn’t have any guns, monsters, or action gameplay of any kind, or because of it’s storyline involving a teenage girl realizing she is gay and finding her first love. Or maybe you haven’t heard of it, because unlike me you have better things to do.

So, if you haven’t heard of it, here’s the basic rundown: It’s first-person, as I said, so you see everything as if you were there walking around. You do have a character, a college-age girl home from a year abroad in Europe only to discover the new house your family moved into is empty, your family missing, and all sorts of mysterious clues scattered everywhere. The point of the game is to figure out where your family is.

gh2Here I will spoil it all for you, because I must: You slowly discover, after wandering the house and finding keys and newspaper clippings and concert tickets and listening to audio journals your kid sister left behind, that your parents are off at couples counseling and your little sister has run away with her girlfriend.

That’s it.

In other words, presumably in the game’s universe your parents return the next morning, y’all call the cops on your sister, and a few hours later she’s being yelled at extensively.

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Writing as a Reader

HWDRI had one of those moments the other night. No, not one of those “oops I drank a bottle of High West Double Rye and wet myself” moments – or, well, yes, one of those moments too, but that’s not the subject of this little essay thank you very much. The moment I’m referring to was a spine-tingling idea I had to solve a plot problem in a novel I’ve been writing for approximately 75 years. Which is actually a merging of two novels into one. Which has been slowly driving me insane. But let all that drift, because I figured something out, and it was to take a tiny detail alluded to a few times throughout the current draft and bring it back as an awesome but somehow perfectly obvious twist.

To celebrate I drank a whole bottle of High West Double Rye but I think I already told that story, so let’s let it drift.

After I woke up, went to the desert to dry out, and had a few starvation-induced hallucinations, I realized something: The only reason the twist came to mind or even worked at all was because I’d previously put in a couple of throwaway details. The thrill I experienced when I thought of a way to leverage those details into brilliance was pretty much the same thing I would have felt if I’d been reading a book and an author suddenly promoted what had seemed like an unnecessary detail to a plot point. In other words, I was writing like a reader.

Frankly, I think that’s important.

Here’s how it works, at least for me. In chapter one, I give a character a gewgaw for some color. Then I forget about it. Then in chapter 10 I realize I need that character to do something amazing and for that he needs an implement. And I realize with a thrill that I can just resurrect the gewgaw. I stand up, tear off my shirt, and scream IT’S BRILLIANT while the universe recreates the crane shot from The Shawshank Redemption. I could have given the character the gewgaw right then and there and retconned it into the story later, but because I used something I’d already added to the story and then forgot, I have the same experience (hopefully) that the reader will have.

It’s artificial, of course. I can do anything I want in my story – I can just make shit up any time I want! Yet when I have that moment when I’m just thrilled by a twist because it seems natural, it usually means I’m onto something. For a second there, I wasn’t a jaded, slightly inebriated writer trying to fool people into spending $8 on his books. I was part of the audience, and I was excited.

Of course, I’ve enjoyed some terrible films and novels in my time, so none of this means the story I’m working on is any good. It’s just the religious experience of occasionally shocking yourself with your own writing that gets me every time.

The Freaks are Winning Part 65,678

I Wish He'd Looked Like This.

I Wish He’d Looked Like This.

SO, today I noticed I had mushrooms growing on my head so I decided to go outside and take a walk, get some sun. So I loaded up my decoy coffee travel mug with liquor, ate six chocolate donuts to get my strength up, and put on some pants.

I went to my old PO Box to see if any weirdness had come my way, but it was sadly full of junk mail. I suppose when you stop sending out a print zine, people stop mailing you. I am surprisingly not sad about that at all.

Walking home in Hoboken with my earbuds in, suddenly a sweaty, plump woman began talking to me. Because having earbuds in does not in any way imply that you cannot hear what someone is saying. Removing the earbuds, I politely grunted that she should repeat herself.

“I told that man to put on a shirt!”

I followed her gesture. About a block away was a guy in bike pants and no shirt, jogging. Even at this distance I could see he was as sweaty and shiny as a greased pigs. It was unsettling, but I didn’t let her know that. Instead, I looked at her and said “So?”

She looked outraged. “It’s illegal!”

I turned away. “Uh-huh.”

Perhaps it is. The list of things that are, in fact, illegal in this world is always surprising to me, to be honest. Especially when a court-appointed lawyer is explaining them to me in the grim interview room downtown I know so well. Who knew so many activities required pants? But shirts? That’s a whole different story. As far as I know it’s not illegal to run without a shirt. Perhaps uncouth, but not illegal.

The freaks are winning. What’s worse, the Freaks continue to think I look like one of them.

Free eBooks

SO, in my ongoing attempts to draw your attention to my novel Chum, out from Tyrus books on 9/18, I’ve put together two free eBooks over one Smashwords that are either directly or tangentially connected to Chum:

Up the Crazy by Jeff Somers - a Lifers/Chum crossover.

Up the Crazy by Jeff Somers – a Lifers/Chum crossover.

Up the Crazy is a crossover short story. Crossover of what? Well, Chum and my first published novel Lifers share a universe and, briefly, some characters. They also share some scenes and characters from other novels I wrote, but since those remain unpublished they remain Novels Whose Titles Shall Not be Mentioned As They Are Meaningless to Everyone Not Named Jeff Somers.

So, anyways, I thought it would be fun to explore one point where the stories of Chum and Lifers intersect a bit a more fully, and wrote a “deleted chapter” from Lifers. It’s not necessary to have read either book to enjoy the story. Here’s a few lines from it:

“Trim, naturally, had a complete speech about Florence, the kind of speech Trim gave from time to time that convinced you he had dossiers on all of us with pre-canned speeches prepared for all occasions. The speeches were also curiously filled with strange stresses and obscure words and this also led me to believe they were basically toneless, rhythmless, rhymeless poems, the kind that Trim specialized in.

Florence, Trim told me, was too much woman for most men. She was tall. She was busty. She was, he insisted, a giantess – everything in proportion, but simply too much of it. It was overwhelming for most men, he said. Add to that red hair and a fuck yeah Florence! kind of attitude which gave her incredible confidence despite being a girl Trim was certain had been mercilessly mocked in her school days for being three or four times normal size, and you had a girl who intimidated all the men in her life and was therefore inexplicably single.”

American Wedding Confidential by Jeff Somers

American Wedding Confidential by Jeff Somers

American Wedding Confidential is a collection of essays from my zine The Inner Swine about the weddings I attended. I’ve been to a lot of weddings, at first as a sort of gigolo emergency wedding date for my single girl friends, and later as escort to The Duchess as everyone we knew in the universe got married one after the other. Weddings are, generally speaking, the most horrible way you can spend an evening, so I started writing darkly humorous essays about my experiences. Fifteen of them are collected here.

Why? Well, a lot of the action in Chum takes place at a disastrous wedding, so there’s your tangential connection. That’s about it, really, although you can well imagine that much of my inspiration for the wedding scenes in Chum came directly from my terrible experiences at the weddings described in American Wedding Confidential.

Here’s a sample:

 “I may have forgotten to explore an equally important facet of the swinging gigolos wedding experience: the dark side.

Oh, it’s there. I didn’t think so myself until a few years ago. Behind the free booze, between the drunkenly wanton bridesmaids, hidden by the blinding light of the camera capturing the Loco-Motion forever, eternally, winks the grinning leer of The Darkness, waiting for some sucker in a bad suit like me to innocently wander in. I started my long, slow walk into the darkness when Insane Co-worker #23 invited me to her friend’s wedding one day, about five minutes after she’d told me she liked me a whole lot and I’d blithely given her the memorized and oft-used (believe it or not) “we’re better off being friends but I will always be there for you” speech. Usually when I give that speech I mean it, and I meant it at that moment; even though I am running the other way as fast as I can whenever someone wants to date me, I usually do want to be just friends.

I hadn’t yet realized that Insane Co-worker #23 was, well, insane.”

Chum by Jeff Somers

Chum by Jeff Somers

Huzzah! Both are absolutely free and available in whatever format you prefer — go for it! Both are also rather poorly formatted and rife with errors, but then you wouldn’t expect anything less from me, would you? Now, go buy Chum before I burst into tears.