You can read Hollywood Jesus as a standalone thriller beginning October 1, or read the series from the beginning, in the The Divine Assassin’s Playbook, Omnibus Edition.
FYI: The Omnibus will contains the first three books: Bigger Than Jesus, Higher Than Jesus and Hollywood Jesus and will launch at the same time.
The third book in the Hit Man Series, Hollywood Jesus is almost here.
The editorial pipeline is full and humming with hardboiled activity.
Hearing happy things from beta readers. (Much thanks to the Steel Falcon Beta Read Team!) Aiming for launch October 1 for Hollywood Jesus, Rise of the Divine Assassin. It’s fun, funny, violent, poignant and violently funny. (I’d planned on calling it Deader Than Jesus. Then I decided to hurry up with the rebrand of the series.) Here’s what the cover will look like.
Cover blurb supplied by Hit Man fan and horror multitalented author Armand Rosamilia.
As I poke through two piles of receipts, I’m thinking about the last year. Tax time is a diary of numbers. It’s mostly depressing, first because accounting is a job I don’t want to do. Second, because it’s a job that would have been easier if I’d kept track of everything all along instead of saving it all up for an Easter weekend blitz.
It’s also sad to see the things that didn’t work. Google Adwords and Facebook Ads (for business #2) was a sinkhole with negative returns. “Negative returns” means it sucked. When the outgo outpaces the income, it starts to make you reevaluate your vocational choices. If I hadn’t been so afraid of public speaking, I could have been a lawyer, I suppose. I cured myself of the public speaking phobia (and probably dodged a bullet by not going into law.) Probably saved myself an ulcer and several clients from life sentences by staying the hell out of that profession.
One of the things I did that showed up in the receipts was donate to Authors Supporting Our Troops. It’s a good cause no matter what political stripe you wear. As for the many little bills that add up to a tower, I’m doing like we all do. I’m a shark. I move forward. I’m making headway and I’m hopeful.
Two of the beta readers for This Plague of Days Season 3 have returned their notes already and the feedback is very positive. Stunningly so. It’s exactly what I hoped it would be. I can’t wait to get through recording my receipts so I can get back to the real business I’m in.
Writing is bigger than the bills. It always will be.
I’ve been unwell, but each morning when I wake up, I think about This Plague of Days and what comes next. I think about the holes in the plot I must plug and the nice people I have to kill (some even in fiction.) Armies of humans, zombies and vampires will gather to fight for the future and some characters we’ve come to know well are not going to live to see it. Fear not. I’ll balance out the bleak, the outrageous and the hopeful…somehow.
Writing a serial this big is not easy. It’s not digging frozen ditches in December difficult, but it has its challenges. That’s why I appreciate your kind reviews and emails so much. You nurture me. You keep me going. I can hardly wait to hit you with Season 3 of This Plague of Days. I just read another five-star review of TPOD! Wow! I’m so happy about how things are working out.
I had planned to write another book first, but Jaimie Spencer kept coming to me in my dreams and telling me to let the last of the trilogy unfold and get to it. I’m not even kidding. The boffo conclusion of This Plague of Days is a persistent itch that only writing can scratch. And so, yes, be assured I’m working on it. Not as fast as either of us would prefer, I suppose, but each week I steal a few more hours to chisel at the block of granite. The story is emerging in surprising ways.
All runners stumble
This week I allowed a vampire (an energy vampire) to sap me of creativity. I lost sleep and time and got sick. I allowed the vampire into my brain when he had not earned that privilege nor was he invited. If you have even a little success, occasionally you’ll become the target of a stalker or get a rude message from people with ulterior motives. An email dripping with condescension threw me off my stride. Lesson learned. I’ll hit the spam button faster next time.
And so I come back to what’s important: creating great experiences for me and my readers. I love to play with words. I love to tell stories. I thank every single reader who digs what I do and lets me know they get it. This Plague of Days is our party and, honestly, letting go of the guest of honor, Jaimie Spencer, will be hard to do.
For me, leaving Jaimie and the Spencers behind to write other books is going to be like leaving The Last Cafe…and that statement will be explained in Season 3 of This Plague of Days.
We appreciate your patience. Please stand by…
Don’t Make Plans for Next Tuesday
We are the armies of the black,
forgotten in your shadows,
making your shoes,
working the pumps and spigots
and spitting in your food.
We are the robot brigade,
smiling at your complaints,
But when we go home to plug in and drop out,
we dream of you,
taking our places and our aprons.
Hearts beat beneath the name tags
that allow you to forget us.
Our wheels spin and calculate.
From behind sneeze shields,
we watch and wait.
We put in our time and dream
and strangling you.
Be kinder to the slaves.
When the revolution comes,
the slaves know where the food is
and how to fix things.
We have long memories.
We are all masters of something.
We wish you hadn’t chosen sarcasm
and trade derivatives.
You’ll be sorry.
The compassionate will live
when the robots rise.
~ IF this is the sort of stirring silliness you enjoy, check out The Little Book of Braingasms. Read the warning on the label first, though. I’m not making a big deal about this release. It’s just something slowly percolating out there for those of us who are secretly Goth and emo. It’s full of the dark thoughts that permeate my skull when you think I’m listening.
I got a review today that put me in a bad mood. Everybody gets an opinion. That’s fine and I don’t ever reply to bad reviews. However, borderline libellous statements sap my creative energy and make me sad. I’ve reported the abuse to the platform in question, though I doubt they’ll do anything about it. That’s how these things tend to go.
I took an hour off. I lost some writing time. I watched an episode of Band of Brothers. Was there ever a better film depiction of soldiers in war that didn’t glamorize it? It was a good thing to lose an hour to.
Anyway, I posted the story below on Facebook earlier. Then I decided to share it with all of you. If you like my crime novels, Bigger Than Jesus and Higher Than Jesus, you might go for this. It’s from a dark work in progress in my head. Let’s have a demonstration of psycho-macho psyche and what that BS can get you. Let’s call it…
The big man’s first slap stunned the smaller man.
The victim’s head rocked back and blood ran freely from his split lip. Shocked, he touched his mouth. “The speaker phone was on when you called me at home before. My family heard. You frightened my wife and child. You shouldn’ta done that.”
A smile. “Scared of me?”
“You’re making a mistake. Leave. Leave now! Please!”
The big man stepped closer, looked him up and down, and chuckled.
The smaller man took the cell from his shirt pocket and hit “End”.
The big man’s second slap didn’t connect. Instead, the intended victim cupped his attacker’s chin in one hand and grabbed him by the hair at the back of his head. The big man laughed, even as the smaller man twisted his neck and, almost gently, guided him to the ground.
Then the big man’s intended victim brought all his weight down, hard, slamming the point of his knee into the side of the attacker’s face, just in front of the ear.
The big man’s laughter broke cold over stunning realization. The jaw didn’t break. Instead, it wrenched to the side in a loose, snapping slide.
A second’s silence passed. Nerves lit fire. Brain gears whirled panic. The screeching and flailing began.
The smaller man yelled to be heard above the big man’s pain. “You came to humiliate me! You came here to beat me up. But I’m not here for a fight!”
He took the big man’s eyes first. After that, it was easy.
When the man stood, he wasn’t the victim anymore. His cell lay on the floor, ringing and ringing. That would be 911 calling back to make sure he was okay. He was fine. He felt taller.
The price is only 99 cents per episode for five episodes of Season 2, released weekly. Want a better deal? The price goes up in November, 2013, but you can grab all of Season 2 for only $3.99 now.) Click the covers below to grab Seasons One and Two.
Thank you to all those who made my books bestsellers. ~ Chazz