Tweet Tweet.

For years now, I have resisted the pull of the social media platform known as Twitter. Of course, when I say “pull,” what I really mean to say is “vague curiosity and general confusion about its purpose.” I didn’t see the point. And, to be honest, I still don’t. I don’t understand why it is so popular to express oneself in 140 characters or less. I don’t understand why, at any given time, anybody really cares what Kim Kardashian is thinking about—if anything. Ever.

Regardless, I signed up anyway.

I had to, you understand. You see, I have this little web series I would like to promote, and social media is a fantastic way to do that. I created a Facebook page for it, and I’m working on a WordPress site to gather all the issues once more start coming out. My last holdout was Twitter, and I realized that I couldn’t market it right without taking advantage of as many channels as possible. So I did what I thought I would never do, and I created a Twitter account.

To try and set it apart from the series itself, I decided to make it more than just a place for me to post updates. Instead, I called it @deadzonesdiary and chose to focus on the main character of the series, turning the Twitter feed into a stream of consciousness narrative where he speaks directly to the readers.

Yes, he breaks the fourth wall. It’s a somewhat cheesy trope in comics, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t fun to write.

I’ve enjoyed the Twitter feed so far. It’s given me a way to promote and, in some ways, continue the story of C.E.A.S.E. while the second issue comes together. I hope to finish a draft of that issue in the next few days, which means I might actually be able to have the second issue ready to read by the end of October. Maybe I should shoot for a Halloween launch? We’ll just have to see.

Relaunch.

A while ago, I started a web serial called One Less Hero, a series of stories that would chronicle the adventures of a supervillain team that did the unthinkable and managed to kill their heroic nemesis. I finished the first chapter, published it online—then seemingly forgot all about it.

Silly me.

To clarify, I never forgot about it. I just got caught up with other things, as tends to happen.

Recently, I decided to relaunch One Less Hero and do it properly this time. I have set up a Facebook page and a Twitter account for the series, and I have also posted a revised and rewritten version of the first chapter online, which can be found here.

So, regular readers, please stop by those pages and leave some feedback. Also, if you would, give Chapter 1 a read and let me know what you think. Here’s the link again, in case you managed to miss it in the last paragraph: http://bit.ly/1f0TxcW.

Thanking Neil Gaiman.

On July 10th, my favorite author, Neil Gaiman, came to Nashville during his latest (and last, he claims) book-signing tour. He is promoting his newest book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, across the country, and the War Memorial Auditorium was one of the final stops on the tour.

For Father’s Day, my wife surprised me with tickets. I had mentioned the signing to her a few months ago, and she knew me well enough to know that I would probably just procrastinate and put off buying them. It’s something I do often; I will come across something I really want, something that excites me to my core, then I will talk myself out of it because the thought of actually experiencing it makes me nervous and possibly even a little sick to my stomach.

I know, I’m weird. A lot of people remind me on a daily basis.

But since she bought the tickets for me, I had no excuse not to go. I’m lucky to have a woman at my side who practically forces me to do the things she knows I will enjoy. That may have even been in our vows, hidden somewhere between the lines.

Our seats were not the best, but I didn’t care all that much. I could still hear the amusing anecdotes and stories behind the stories, even if Neil Gaiman’s face was obscured 90 percent of the time by a towering stack of speakers. He answered questions submitted by audience members (“How do you take your tea?” one asked. He deadpanned, “Orally.”), and he read a selection from his latest novel enhanced by the deep rumblings of a Tennessee thunderstorm. He also read an excerpt from a children’s book coming out this fall entitled Fortunately, The Milk, accompanied onstage by Nashville native Bela Fleck, who provided background music and sound effects for the story with his banjo. It is a story about the incredible and unbelievable adventure a father has while trying to bring home a bottle of milk for his children’s breakfasts. It was the perfect way to end my father’s day present.

The signing was next. We made it close to the beginning of the line, thanks to the very thoughtful planners who allowed pregnant or disabled people to move to the front. My wife is 37 weeks along, and she certainly appreciated the gesture. After waiting maybe 15 to 20 minutes, I was next in line to have my copy of The Ocean at the End of the Lane signed.

So what do you do when you come face to face with one of your idols?

You thank him.

The attendant handed him the book, complete with a Post-It note on the inside cover inscribed with my name in all capital letters. (A rather ingenious move on their part—no misspellings, no misheard or misunderstood names.) He nodded to me as I approached the table. He then addressed the book with my name, his signature, and a single additional word: “Dream.”

He placed the signed book in my hand, and I simply said, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied.

Sure, he probably thought I was just thanking him for the autograph. And maybe, in that moment, I was. But I was also thanking him for other things. I was thanking him for the body of work he had created. I was thanking him for the stories he had dreamed up and cast out into the world—stories that eventually inspired me to tell my own. I was thanking him for this speech. In short, I was thanking him for doing what he did, and for doing it so well.

As I write this, I have dozens of unwritten stories in my head, along with a handful that exist in some kind of tangible form in one place or another. One will be finished in the next few days, a 14,000-word novelette that is probably one of my most personal stories to date.

Neil Gaiman is one of the reasons I decided to become a writer. His work showed me how powerful words, ideas, and stories can be. Meeting him tonight and hearing him speak of the power that all these made-up stories can possess has been more than inspiring; it’s been invigorating.

Thank you, Neil. For everything.

(And also . . . thank you for signing my book.)

Sharing Passions.

I’ve discovered that one of the greatest joys of fatherhood comes in sharing the things you love with your kids. I have many passions — movies, books, and music to name a few — and I would be lying if I said I didn’t love how passionate my son is about almost all of them. (He’s not quite as into movies as I am, but he’s also three years old. There’s still plenty of time.) However, one of the first things I shared with my son — and one of the first things he really grew to love — was superheroes.

I’ve loved superheroes and superhero lore since I was around Liam’s age. My first love was Batman, but it expanded rather quickly to include the X-Men, Spider-Man, Superman, and a host of others. Even when I’m wearing my button-down business-friendly office attire, I often wear superhero t-shirts underneath. It’s just a part of me, and it always will be. I could go into my love affair with superheroes and how I feel they have become our culture’s modern mythology, but that should probably be saved for a later entry. This one is about my son.

Liam has loved superheroes pretty much since he has been old enough to love anything. Like me, his first love was Batman, but that’s probably only because I exposed him to Batman very early. He quickly learned everything he could about Batman, Robin, all of Batman’s various toys, and even the names of the villains (with his favorite being the Joker, of course).

Mama, I love the Joker. He’s really a bad guy, but I love him anyway.

A boy after my own heart.

Liam has all kinds of superhero action figures, play vehicles, playsets, and costumes (oh, the costumes), but there is one thing he has never really experienced — the veritable of all things superhero: comic books.

On Sunday, that changed.

Liam and I had a father-son outing to a local comic book store called Rick’s Comic City, a comic retailer that many user reviews on Yelp describe as “the only true comic book store in Nashville.” He and I had an absolute blast, and neither of us really wanted to leave. I cannot even begin to count up the number of Look, Papa!!!‘s I heard in the hour or so we spent wandering around the store.

It was surely in the double digits.

They had an entire wall of comics, another wall of graphic novels, plus statues, busts, props, and all kinds of things to put a twinkle in my little boy’s eye (and mine, for that matter). We explored the shelves and the long boxes filled with back issues, and Liam marveled at all the display pieces kept in the glass cases…including the scale model of the spaceship Serenity from my favorite TV show Firefly. (I’m allowed to geek out a little, too.)

In the end, I bought Liam his first comic books, and he picked out a Human Torch Heroclix figure that he has not let out of his sight since. We topped off the visit by stopping for ice cream on the way home — and bringing some home for his Mama, of course. It was quite the Sunday, and I can’t wait to go back there with him. He even let the Reader know that she was invited to come with us next time. Time will tell if she takes him up on the offer.

I bet she will. Who can resist our little man?

Keeping Promises.

In my last blog, I promised that I was working on the second chapter of my online serial, and that it would be up by March 31st.

Yeah, I laughed a little bit as I was writing that. I knew it probably wouldn’t happen. And if you know me at all, you knew it probably wouldn’t happen either.

Oh, believe me, I had every intention of finishing it and publishing it by then. I always do. But then my muse got the better of me, and I was drawn away from it by another story that I began working on a little over a month ago. The good news is: that story is almost finished, and I believe it is one of my best to date. For anyone interested, I will post an email link in this blog once it is finished, and anyone who wishes to read it will be sent a PDF. Be warned though: at over 11,000 words long (so far), it is technically a novella. Not bad for something I originally envisioned as a short, theme-oriented story about taking control of your own life. As tends to happen, I started writing the story, but my characters are the ones who picked it up from there. But you’ll read about that one after it’s finished—which won’t be long now.

As for One Less Hero, I ended up doing exactly what I figured I would do if I sat on it long enough: I decided to rewrite it. I didn’t like the direction the second chapter was headed; it just didn’t have that “special” feel that I enjoyed so much about the first one. It was a straight continuation of the events of the first chapter instead of the standalone format that I originally set out to write for each installment. But that has all changed now. I found the direction it needed to go, and work will recommence on it shortly. I’m not going to lay out a date this time; there’s no sense in making promises that my creative side will not possibly allow me to keep. To paraphrase a wise, if fictional, old man: my work is never late, nor is it early; it arrives precisely when it means to. Just know that once it is published, it will be exactly what I want it to be—not something I rushed to meet a deadline.

I’m also working on a western manuscript I started a little over a year ago. Based in part on the Brother Eli persona I created for the 2011 season of Ruby Falls Haunted Cavern, it’s the story of a bounty hunter trailing a preacher wanted for the very public execution of a mayor in his own town square. An extremely charismatic man, the preacher attracts followers to his own twisted code, warping minds and leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. As always, I love creating complex and thought-provoking villains, and Eli is no different. When I last left off, I was maybe halfway through the story and already at around 9,000 words. I’ll be making some changes to it and editing it down quite a bit, but I still see it possibly going the short novel route.

Add to those my ongoing novel manuscript, plus developing two different fantasy series, and you have a man with a very busy mind. The trick, it seems, is getting my hands to do the work.