My next novel, Vengeance Is Hers. is packed with ways to wreak vengeance upon your many, many enemies!May righteous vengeance be yours! But wait there’s more (and caveats)!
As previously stated (see previous blog post), I have a problem with forgive and forget. Forgiveness is nice in theory, and it’s good for you, of course. Without contrition from the offender, however, I fear this high-minded principle turns people pleasers into doormats.
As for forgetting? What? Like a lobotomy? I have an excellent memory, and I know what you did!
The novel kicks off with a disclaimer for all my well-researched mayhem: This is not an instruction manual.
All acts of vengeance detailed herein were performed by fictional trained sociopaths.
“I don’t have to be so angry about the past, anymore,”Molly said.
“Really?” Dylan’s doubt was evident.
“Oh, yeah! It’s time to get angry about the future.”
~ A snippet from Vengeance Is Hers
It sounds wise and peaceful to tell someone to forgive and forget. But is it really helpful?
I know it’s the healthier choice, even as I carry my heavy grudges around my neck in a bucket. I’m still angry, or at least annoyed, with people who are long dead or otherwise oblivious to my ire. They have forgotten their trespasses against me. I can’t.
A friend once insisted I make up with someone. “It’s called learning,” I replied. “They treated me badly, and I won’t give them more opportunities to repeat the offense.”
I remained obstinate, especially since the offender expressed no remorse and failed to apologize. They were drunk at the time, and their anti-social behavior was habitual. They may not even have the courtesy to remember they passed my standard for assholery.
The best I could hope for might be an insincere apology followed by the observation that I am overly sensitive. In which case, their penance shall be a throat punch.
Advising someone to forgive and forget is easy, but how do you do it?
When Tony Stark meets Bruce Banner for the first time, he’s intrigued by how he controls himself. Banner doesn’t allow his anger to turn him into the Hulk. Iron Man asks,“You’ve really got a lid on it, haven’t you? What’s your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?”
But we all know Bruce Banner’s secret. As he tells Captain America, “I’m always angry.”
I await your helpful suggestions and judgemental comments.
I’m happy to be working on a thriller about vigilante justice (see the post below). The apocalyptic genre has much cooled. This Plague of Days provides many solid tips for doomsday preppers, but fewer readers are inclined to read end-of-the-world stories when they fear they’re about to actually experience them.
If you enjoyed my apocalypticworks (TPOD, AFTER Life, Citizen Second Class, Robot Planet), you’ll still groove on Vengeance Is Hers. Besides retaining my voice and sense of humor, all my writing is about societal failure and seeking safety. My crime fiction is about finding ways to deal with suspenseful chaos(as seen inBigger Than Jesus, Higher Than Jesus, Hollywood Jesus, Resurrection, and The Night Man).Whatever I write, you’ll get a dab of hope and a bunch of heart in the end.
But about those end-of-the-world scenarios outside your window
While immunologists worry about H1N1 jumping species to humans, RFK wants to freeze immunization research and remove mandates for common vaccines (which is absolutely not how herd immunity works). He thinks the solution to depression is simply to send the afflicted to farms where they have no access to processed food.
Last night, Bill Maher hosted a Stanford-educated doctor who claims med school taught her nothing valuable and that eliminating processed foods is the answer to all metabolic problems. So, “Doctor,” aside from the problematic classism in that stance, you’re telling me that RFK has all the answers, and Trump supporters everywhere will breathe a sigh of relief when you take away all their hamberders?
There was one powerful person who advocated healthy eating, and they condemned her as a fascist. Remember? Her name is Michelle Obama.
When the school bully attacks a fellow student, the authorities in Poeticule Bay, Maine, prove useless. Molly Jergins knows life isn’t fair, but she’s determined to make it so. Enraged, she launches a campaign of vigilante justice against the school bully.
As threats and vandalism escalate to a war ending in death, the line between right and wrong blurs. Molly tries to be good, but if you’re hunting monsters, the safer route is to become a better monster.
Is revenge the best success?
Robert Chazz Chute is a former speechwriter, magazine columnist, and crime and science journalist. A graduate of the University of King’s College and the Banff Publishing Workshop, Robert has won fifteen awards for his writing. He pens suspenseful crime fiction with muscle and apocalyptic tales with heart. Robert’s hidden headquarters is a blanket fort in Other London. Vengeance is Hers is his twenty-ninth book.
As my prime beta reader goes through the WIP, I’ve realized how peculiar some East Coast speech patterns and expressions are. He grew up on the West Coast, so we’re Canadians separated by vast distances and vastly different experiences.
SWMBO (She Who Must Be Obeyed) is from Toronto and enunciates every word. That influenced me, and I began to slow down and enunciate more. However, the East Coast came back easily in the dialogue in Vengeance Is Hers. It’s fun, but I won’t let the dialogue become inaccessible.
When I visited Bermuda as a kid, I loved the locals’ long vowel sounds. I spoke fast and in the back of my throat, so much so that a lovely Bermudian shopkeeper said slowly, “I dooon’t undahstaaand you.”
She spoke English. I spoke in Nova Scotian.
Today’s agenda:
1. Continue David Gaughran’s book marketing course.
2. Negotiate with the designer over the cover for the WIP.
3. Review beta reader suggestions.
4. Add to my author blog. (Ooh! Did that one, here and now! The bionic implants are working and my hip pain is gone, so you’ll see me much more active here from now on!)
5. Prep angry posts that reveal I’m empathetic because *we’re* trying to have a Star Trek future.
I am now on BlueSky. Find me @robertchazzchute.bsky.social
Behold! Me, dithering endlessly over word choices at my local coffee shop.
For years, I struggled with insomnia. Exhausted after maybe six hours of fitful sleep, my busy night brain interfered with each day’s productivity. Sleep hygiene didn’t really work. Sleepy teas and warm milk? Nope! New pillows? Nah. What has helped me most to get nine hours of sleep each night is THC + CBD + Zoplicone (a prescription sleeping pill.) Working alone, the prescription didn’t work, but between that and visits to the dispensary, I’m finally back on track.
I’m working away on a fresh draft of She Once Made a Man Swallow a Key. Stay tuned, and in the meantime, please do give my many other books a try.
I recently watched Things to Come, a movie from 1936 based on the work of HG Wells. It’s not a great film, but the subtext feels prophetic. The world of the 1930s devolves into a decades-long war that destroys civilization. Warlords take over. Scientific progress is lost. When a movement rises to bring a troubled hellscape back to modernity, those in power resist change. The good guys — in this case, an army of scientists — win. They improve on what came before the apocalypse and build a utopia. However, a hundred years later, angry mobs rise up to bring scientific progress to a halt.
At every tick of history’s clock, some people will try to hold back the hands of time. No matter how good the future might be, they want to return to a time when they thought things were better, perhaps simpler. The worst part is they want to choose for you, not just themselves. I’d prefer to order off the menu myself, thanks. Leave me and that bright, hopeful future alone.
HG Wells never watched a political debate on TikTok at 3 a.m., but he saw the anti-intellectualism coming. That’s been going on for a long time, of course, but the US election year will ramp up the nonsense, and plenty. We have a rough road ahead in 2024. I won’t list all the frets, but you’ve seen the news. You know what piles on the stress. We call it doomscrolling now, but we used to call it “watching the news,” or “being aware of current events.” You’re going to hear a lot more arguing. Don’t expect well-mannered debates on the road to truth, just stubborn parroting of propaganda impenetrable to facts. Motivated reasoning is not reasonable.
You’ll also get exposed to some happy, slappy messages about how everything’s fine or will be. When crises go on too long, misery becomes normalized. The worst is when you point out an injustice and some clod mutters, “That’s nothing new.” Yeah, ya lazy dick! We should have fixed it by now, huh? But we haven’t. I fear we won’t fix much of anything.
Whatever your cause, there’s a good chance some experts are working on it. Just as surely, a bunch of idiots are maintaining the status quo or wrecking the DeLorean’s transmission by throwing Time into reverse.
So, what to do? You’re going to go to bed each night, heave a heavy sigh, and say in a thick Southern accent, “Mama’s had a day.” I say that to my wife each night because we’re going to have to hold on to our sense of humor through it all. I don’t have a solution to the climate crisis, threats of war, or a (legal) way to convince flat earthers they’re wrong. Maybe afflict the comfortable and write letters to whoever’s in charge of the circus? In your off-time, rest and recover.
Here’s my rest and recovery protocol:
Guard your peace from those who would rob you of it.
The usual: Sleep, eat well, and exercise.
Put your phone down more often.
Avoid trying to reason with unreasonable folks. Helping anyone out of ignorance is noble, but fuckwits will just waste your precious time, and time is life.
Watch Stanley Tucci in Searching for Italy. This will reinforce your belief in the hope of a common humanity that is kind, curious, and appreciative.
Binge-watching Modern Family will ease your mind and bring you comfort.
If childhood was a better time for you, revel in nostalgia. I watched an episode of Barney Miller last night.
Read fiction. It will pull you out of the forest fire that is your existence, at least for a while.
Gather with the like-minded and enter the bar back to back, heads on a swivel.
Laugh at determined fools. When reason fails, laughter is often the more effective weapon.
Finally, and most importantly:
Read my fiction. Mama’s had a day, and I need money.
