This week, I’m outside my comfort zone, away from the blanket fort, and working on an epic fantasy. Strictly speaking, this is a new genre to me. However, there are so many commonalities with the apocalyptic and dystopian genres that it’s definitely adjacent. The writing is coming easily. I have always enjoyed creating worlds, especially those with philosophical or theological complexity. Amid the action and chaos, there is the reaction to action and chaos. That’s where the tears and laughter can really flow.
As I sit in this cozy cottage (our first vacation in many years), I’m grateful my wife insisted we get away. For a while, someone else can worry about the broken clothes dryer and that funny noise the air conditioner makes. This week is just for us, and of course, filling up the blank page with suspenseful stories full of swords and mayhem.
Each day, I write little daily updates about the work and my reading and writing life in my fan group. If you’d like to join my inner circle of people who dig what I do, join my Facebook group here:
Endemic by Robert Chazz Chute follows Ovid Fairweather as she tries to navigate a world ravaged by a disease that turns people essentially braindead. As with any collapse of society, a power vacuum develops, and various individuals group together to seize that power….Can Ovid find a way to survive in a world that aims to take whatever she has left? And can she do it while reconciling with her troubled past?
Ovid endures a great deal in her past and present life. The author does a fantastic job incorporating her past experiences into the main plot points, thus keeping readers guessing and gasping as they read. I would be happy to read more from this setting, and its characters in the future, so here’s hoping there’s a sequel on the way soon.
Endemic is a suspenseful and thrilling science fiction novel with a dystopian twist. Readers will be drawn into the world that at times is almost too real and plausible and left with an eerie feeling of could this happen to me.
There is an apocalypse coming no one talks about. Try to guess which end of the world scenario I’m not writing about before you get to the end of this post.My books will help you with the process of elimination.
Endemic (coming soon) is a nerdy and neurotic person combatting sociopaths while trying to survive a viral apocalypse.
Citizen Second Class is about poverty and starvation amid a climate catastrophe and greed.
AFTER Life is about artificial intelligence weaponizing medical technology to take over the world.
This Plague of Days is a zombie apocalypse (and other species evolving to take over the world).
The Night Man is about PTSD, societal failure, family drama, war, poverty, and regret.
Wallflower is a time travel novel about second chances after a lot of bad decisions.
The Dimension War Series is a coming-of-age story amid a war story.
Amid Mortal Words is about the loss of control and taking chances on a better future.
Brooklyn in the Mean Time is about vengeance, absolution, and redemption.
Robot Planet is about technological revolution and failure versus the human spirit.
The Hit Man Series is about violence, vengeance, and escape amid a broken America.
All Empires Fall is an anthology of five end-of-the-world stories and the common denominator is dealing with other people while everything falls apart.
Have you guessed the missing apocalypse yet?
Climate wars are a big deal, but I touched on that in Citizen Second Class. We could talk about the Misinformation War or new civil war scenarios, but Endemic has that covered. I dealt with extinction by killer asteroid in All Empires Fall. If you guessed the nuclear threat, Amid Mortal Words has that, too. You might have guessed the looming threat of antibiotic resistance. But, no, I’m thinking of something utterly devastating to the future of humanity. It’s close and almost no one ever talks about even beginning to deal with this extinction-level event.
The apocalypse that haunts me is this: In 60 years, Earth will have insufficient viable topsoil to grow 95% of all crops.
Read that last sentence again and ponder its significance. My kids will be alive for this. Coffee, bananas, and almonds will disappear first. Then everything else.
Sixty years and we aren’t dealing with the threat. There are no massive contingency plans. Unless helpful aliens are waiting to swoop in, no one is coming to rescue us.We’ll probably run out of soil before we run out of usable water, but it feels like it’s all a race to the end, doesn’t it?
So…call me Mr. Sunshine and read my books now, while you still can.
COMING THIS MONTH!
What happens when a pandemic never ends? Find out in Endemic.
Neurotic and nerdy, former book editor Ovid Fairweather is trapped in New York as everything falls apart.
All her life, she’s been a nail. To survive the viral apocalypse, she’ll have to become a hammer.
Don’t believe COVID-19 is a zombie pandemic? Please consider the tropes of the zombie genre:
Zombies represent a force of nature, indifferent to your pain, suffering, and death.
As the contagion spreads, many people are in denial at first. “This can’t be real. It’s a hoax!”
Scientists who warned of the looming disaster are not believed.
Then, “It’s a plot!”
“It’s not my problem until the infection comes for me.”
Normal life as we know it is over, yet some try to pretend otherwise.
Two tribes: “Working together, we can save more people,” versus “I take care of me and mine.”
Traveling large distances is suddenly a huge challenge.
Healthcare systems become overwhelmed and economies collapse.
Though the virus can infect everyone and anyone, the privileged try to cling to their privilege.
Riots. When the rich do it, it’s called scavenging for survival. When the poor do it, it’s called looting.
People with power and/or authority abuse others.
People who were previously undervalued are suddenly prized for their survival skills.
People without useful expertise experience a sudden plummet in their self-esteem and question their role and identity in these new, dire circumstances.
Many hoard and hide, determined to wait it out “until this thing blows over.” (But it doesn’t blow over unless you’re watching Shawn of the Dead.)
Some turn to religion, others to drugs. Coping styles vary widely. Some don’t cope at all and hurt themselves and others.
Weapons, weapons everywhere.
Bored and frustrated, some act out in very unhelpful ways.
Governments respond too little, too late, or not at all while reassuring their frightened citizenry that everything’s going to be okay.
The dead we know personally are mourned. We become numb to the huge statistics of the butcher’s bill.
People try to hold on to normalcy, focus on minutiae, and cry in private.
Some infected deny they’re infected, endangering the rest of their group.
With no end in sight, depression and anxiety are heightened while we put on a brave face for the benefit of children.
Some vocal and angry slice of the populace is pissed off at Nature but instead aim their rage at the brilliant virologist who is trying to save them.
Conspiracy theories, conjecture, and rumors replace the news media.
Some take change as a chance at a reset, aspiring to change the world for the better.
Others, looking backward through a rose-colored lens, reject the fresh start, wanting nothing more than to get back to their routines as they were.
People value their units more, whether that unit is family, friends, or loyal connections.
Some regret what they didn’t do with their lives. Others find new meaning in rising to meet the challenges of their new circumstances.
Years ago, someone on a Facebook webinar dismissed me as “just one of those zombie writers.”
Three things about that bit of dickishness:
First, neener-neener-poo-poo. I’m not “just” anything, balloon head. Read a little more and a little deeper and toss your assumptions in the trash. This Plague of Days is the slow burn that strikes at the heart of our highest hopes and our greatest failings when confronting a pandemic. AFTER Lifeis packed with fast-paced action and still digs deep into the choices we make and what it means to be human. There’s more going on here than meets the eye, dumbass.
Second, z-lit can serve as a rich metaphor for Nature, uncaring and brutal as it can be. Infection and contagion are unrelenting existential threats, and they are always with us. Life and its mortal limits are the constant subtexts of the human condition. World pandemics elevate those threats so they are no longer subtextual. Unless you’re reading this post from New Zealand, you’re soaking in a zombie apocalypse scenario right now. (See above.)
Third, zombie novels are not about zombies. It’s the human response to existential threats that makes the drama. How we respond to stress, whether we help or hurt, die with grace or go out in pain and regret…these are all human stories in which thoughtlessness kills, cowards are exposed, and heroes rise.
So, what’s it going to be today?
Will you bravely and carefully venture out into the Badlands to beyond your walls in search of food? Will you shelter in place and act in the spirit of kindness to comfort others to ease our collective burdens? Or are you going to be a selfish superspreader who goes out without a mask to spread disease and add to the suffering, death, and mayhem?
Hint: In fiction and in real life, things often do not end well for the cowards and malicious disease spreaders. Choose wisely and wear a damn mask. After all, if you’re an unthinking, unfeeling creature who lacks empathy and forethought, you’re already a zombie.
“Yeah. Like, is there a central theme to all your work?”
That put me back on my heels for a moment, but I came up with something. It’s this:
Whether I’m writing science fiction, apocalyptic novels, or crime thrillers, it’s always about the drama of closing the space between how things are and how they ought to be.
This, my friends, is why fiction is better than non-fiction. Fiction has to make more sense than reality. Looking around, much of our new reality fails to make sense. The entire world is under quarantine and the economy is unplugged. Mismanagement abounds. Some policy failures seem indistinguishable from actively trying to kill the disenfranchised. Nope, not kidding. If you count yourself among the disadvantaged, you feel that punch in your heart, head, and guts.
Okay, okay! We get it, Rob! Things are bad. What’s your point?
My dad will turn 94 this year. He often says, “I’ve never seen anything like this.” I understand his culture shock, but our existential dread is not unique. The difference now is that more people face existential dread of the same thing simultaneously.
If you’ve ever waited by the phone for test results from a doctor, you recognize this awful sensation. If you’re feeling bored, unproductive, overstimulated, under-stimulated, sad, angry or depressed, you’re not alone. The poor or differently-abled often feel trapped and frustrated, much like this. Many people feel as you do and this is not new to them. Even under normal circumstances, many have difficulty leaving their homes and moving about freely for a variety of reasons. Want to take a ride just to get out of the house? Okay. Lots of people can’t afford cars. A ride on a bus, if there is public transport, can be dangerous.
My point is not that you shouldn’t complain.
Vent if you need to do so. Your feelings are valid. Your broken toe doesn’t feel better because someone else gets their leg amputated. I spread my sympathy around everywhere without holding back.
I want to make a more subtle point:
For all of us, each day dealing with COVID-19 is one more straw atop the camel’s back (and that poor camel’s knees are trembling). For me, it’s the helplessness that gets to me. If you aren’t classified as an essential worker, your job in the pandemic is to do nothing but stay home. Doing nothing is very much akin to helplessness. I want it fixed. I want to fix it. I want people to survive and thrive. I’m sure you do, too. For most of us, we are playing a waiting game. Failing to wait can be deadly, so this is a game we don’t want to lose. The stakes are high and, like you, I’m feeling that nervy pain daily.
So it’s time to revisit something from Do the Thing.
In stressful situations, we’re biologically programmed to flee, fight or freeze. Those could be more useful responses when our species was hunted by evil clowns riding Bengal tigers through primordial jungles.* That’s probably less helpful here.
To better cope with our stress, we want choices, not automatic and autonomic responses.
Here are your choices using 3A Stress Management
In any stressful situation, you choose from the Alter/Avoid/Accept Triad.
Alter: Change the frame and circumstance if and where you can. Make isolation more pleasant. Find helpful, happy and healthy distractions.
And ask for support.
Avoid: Get away from threats to your physical and mental health where possible (i.e. masks, physical distancing, isolation, etc.)
And ask for support.
Accept: Don’t try to control that which is beyond your control.
And ask for support.
I hope you find 3A stress management helpful. This is me, still trying to close the distance between an Ought and an Is, even in non-fiction. If you’re searching for more stress management ideas, check out Do the Thing.
Much love and be well!
Rob
* What? Nobody ever told you about the evil clowns riding Bengal tigers through primordial jungles? Jeez. Read a science book, will ya?!
The coffee shop (AKA the coffice) is no longer an option, of course. Freedom awaits, but relief shall not come until at least two full weeks after that longed-for goal: Vaccination Day!
I’m writing fiction and working on audiobooks in the blanket bunker. If you can manage it, I highly recommend a similar retreat. Failing that, pull blankets over your head and breathe through a hose. Crawl under the bed to cry. Hide under a friendly dog and whisper your deepest sins into his big floppy ears.
Then? Wait.
Then wait some more.
Patience.
Don’t binge on bad news all the time. Stay sane. Perform a kindness. Poke your head out a window and curse the distant, uncaring stars. Have a cookie. Have another cookie. Exercise by pounding a pillow and cursing. Works for me.
Today’s message is:
You will feel fear. You will feel grief. As the pandemic rages on, anger may grip you. I hope we live to feel gratitude for being spared.
She Who Must Be Obeyed (AKA my wife) mentioned that the new move in appropriate terminology is to encourage physical distancing, not social distancing.
With COVID-19 rampaging across Earth, isolating is necessary. However, you need not feel alone. All in this together even if we’re apart, right? Some experts suggest reaching out to three people a day (electronically). Give a call to someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. Check in, especially with the elderly, vulnerable neighbors or family members who are stuck, alone or at risk. Alone doesn’t have to be lonely. Making and maintaining social connections has even been shown to be good for our health. Stress and strife is something we need to tamp down as much as we can.
Don’t know what to say to people going through hard times? Often, all you need do is listen so they feel heard and seen. Other times, you may be able to help people at risk connect to services that can assist them.
Speaking of Reaching Out
Did you know that avid readers of my work have a private Facebook group where I hold forth on the doings of the day? It’s often jokes and occasionally it’s serious. I add excerpts from my work in progress, too.
Example? Here’s a snippet from the This Plague of Days prequel I’m working on now:
Armed only with the cane, Moira rushed toward the screams. She was still weak, but now that she’d survived the Sutr flu, she was determined to fight whatever came next. She did not spare a moment to tell Kevin Laughlin that she would return to his side. The dying have no time for lies.
For another taste from the group, here’s today’s post (a review of sorts):
Hey, Monday, you great looming beast full of threats, coffin nails, and bat wings. And hello, friends.
When we ran out of our addictive Tiger King supply, we watched Wild Wild Country on Netflix. Again, I am amazed at the sheer amount of footage narcissists require. If you know someone who records everything, there’s a good chance they killed somebody or they’re about to do something super shady that should land them in a prison cell.
Wild Wild Country has been out for a while. I’d given it a miss, but it is so watchable after you slog through the first episode. It’s about a cult that started out with high hopes. Then god complexes, bigotry, and government corruption get in the way. A utopian vision in rural Oregon slides from peace and love to AK-47s. It’s disappointing and teaches us a lesson we should have learned a long time ago: Don’t trust the feds.
There is so much fascinating nuance in these tales of downward spirals. I don’t watch a lot of true crime. I imagine that if you binge too much of it, it’s difficult to see the good in humanity. I know I often sound like a cynic, but they say every cynic is a disappointed idealist.
If you dig what I do, this is your invitation to join our happy little group of readers.
