Archive for the ‘Random Awesomeness’ Category

Source: Lucas Pederson’s Scares That Care Campaign

It so happens I do enjoy long walks on the beach. Probably not with you, but then I don’t really know you, do I? You could be a perv, or a serial killer, or a Trump supporter. I’m sure you’re nice, but I just can’t take the chance. You could be…

Wait, where was I? Oh, right, I hadn’t actually started yet. Well, here’s the thing: this post is not about walks on the beach, long, short, or otherwise. It’s about interviews. Or, more to the point, an interview with me. The folks over at Serious Reading were kind enough to post the interview and if you click on my serious face below you can read it.

 

mott author

 

I considered doing an interview with Frivolous Reading, but that would require you to click on my silly face below. But don’t do it. Do NOT click on silly face. Ironically, I’m serious about this. Don’t click on it.

 

Mott silly

 

Told you.

Anyway, an interview is an interview is an interview, and the best part about this one is those Serious folks also posted a review of my novel A Fractured Conjuring, which you can read by clicking on the image of the book below. Go ahead, it’s safe.

 

A Fractured Conjuring - Concept 2 Variant - Large

 

That’s all I have for you at the moment.

Oh, and in case you got frivolously caught up in all the seriousness and forgot to click Serious Me, here’s another opportunity. Click away.

 

mott author

 

And if you are so inclined, you can find the rest of my books over at those madcap guys and gals called Amazon. Click on my logo below and check it out. Then you might want to go soak that clicking finger–it’s had a tough day.

 

Martin Logo

A few days ago, this happened: a rave review of my novel Relative Karma.

This is a big deal. To me. All reviews are important, and I greet each one–whether good or bad–with gratitude.

But this latest one knocked me back a step. Because the review was done by Anthony Servante. And if that wasn’t enough, my book was given to Servante by one of my literary heroes, Trent Zelazny.

And, though Relative Karma was published second, it is actually my first novel. A novel based loosely on real-world events. My world. A world I hope never to revisit. Somehow, inexplicably, this book continues to connect with readers. I don’t understand that, and I don’t have to. I just have to be grateful.

And I am. Because reviews like this make me keep going. It’s possible that someday I will be able to carve out a living doing what I love: writing books and stories. For now it is enough to know I am doing it, and doing it in a way that seems to be working.

Mr. Servante’s review is below. When you are done, read everything else he has done and be glad you made his cyber acquaintance.

And read Trent Zelazny‘s work. All of it.

Click on the picture to read the review:

 

Karma Cover Website New

 

 

And if you are interested in more from me, click on the image below.

 

Martin Logo

Are You a Writer? I mean, really???

 

A bit snarky, but too good not to share. Enjoy,

 

“Owning a laptop… Going to a coffee shop… Having a cat…”

Source: A List of Things That Don’t Make You A Writer

Things were going fine…and then they weren’t.

Things went horribly, irretrievably wrong.

…or did they?

 

Time: First week of May, 2016.

Place: Clearwater Beach, Florida, U.S.A.

 

This all happened (or didn’t happen) during my wife’s yearly work conference. I had tagged along to keep my sweet patootie company. She’d conference, I’d sit on the beach, drink things and eat other things, and in the evening we’d reconnect over dinner. All of this went fine.

Until it came time to leave. Until that final fateful day…when the thunderstorms rolled in.

The thunderstorms are a fact.

The delayed (and finally canceled) flight is a fact.

Now I want to tell you what didn’t happen…

Upon receiving the news that our flight was canceled, we realized we were screwed. All we wanted was to get home. Quickly. But now that wouldn’t happen. We were forced into staying another night in Tampa. Wasted money, wasted time. More money wasted on a rental car.

When we arrived at the hotel, we saw the IHOP next door. Great. Average food at best, consumed in the presence of other disgruntled, delayed passengers and their screaming, grubby little urchins.

After a night of no sleep due to the last-minute, first-floor fleabag room, we’d be forced back over to IHOP for more crappy food and worse service. Then a sucky day of trying to find something to do until our flight time, which wasn’t until 5:55 p.m. Or maybe better to just get to the airport early, huddle with the cattle, pray for early death. The trip was ruined. It sucked. All we wanted was to get home. But that was too much to ask.

Friggin’ Universe.

Or, if you would be so kind…please consider the following. Here’s what actually happened:

Fact: the flight was canceled.

Fact: we had to rebook for the next day at 5:55 p.m.

Fact: we booked a hotel room with an IHOP next door.

We checked in (clean room, friendly desk attendant), stowed our bags in the room, and thought: “Hey. Let’s go get dinner.”

Open the iPhone. “Hey, Siri, what restaurants are nearby? Cheesecake Factory? Sweet, we love that place.”

And off we went. It was two minutes from our hotel. But when we got there we noticed C.F was only one of many eateries. We browsed. We explored. We ultimately strolled into the coolest British/Irish pub ever (aptly named The Pub). The food was incredible, the drinks even better. Finish up with an Irish coffee? Don’t mind if I do.

Back to the room. Since our flight didn’t leave until later the next day (and check-out time at the hotel wasn’t until noon) we drifted off to some comfy sitcom and slept for 10 hours.

Next morning we did not go to IHOP. The server at The Pub recommended a local favorite for breakfast, a quirky little hole-in-the-wall called Pinky’s. Pancake sandwich and amazing coffee? Sure, why not.

And then we got in our rental car and drove. Siri directed us effortlessly to the charming historic downtown of St. Petersburg. The weather was beyond perfect. We pulled into a small park overlooking Tampa Bay. We watched dolphins and crusty old fishermen do their respective things. It all felt a little like the vacation we didn’t know we were missing.

Back to Tampa in time to have one of the yummiest burgers I’ve had in a good while, along with an IPA I’m still thinking about, at a place called Taps.

Rental car returned and back to the airport with twenty minutes to spare. We are in the air as I write these words. A few minutes ago the spunky Southwest Flight Dude offered a free drink ticket to anyone who could give him all the names of the flight attendants. My wife and I, along with our new friend sitting in the row with us, compared notes and got all the names right. He gave each of us free drink ticket. My chardonnay should be here momentarily.

What’s the point of all this? Simple focus.

We could easily (and understandably) have focused on our misfortune and the inconvenience caused by the weather. I mean, seriously, how dare it rain and thunder? How dare the people at Southwest take our safety into consideration and cancel our flight?

Or, since we had the time and it really wasn’t anything more than an inconvenience, we could do what we did. Which was to see it as a blip in the plan. Hey, let’s call it an adventure. Let’s see what there is to see. Dang it, let’s relax! And we did. And we encountered some amazing food, lovely scenery, and some of the friendliest people in America.

We chose to see all of this as an opportunity. We went looking for fun. And because we were looking for it, we found it. Everywhere we turned.

Are we blessed? Do we lead a charmed life? Sometimes I think so, but I think the truth is much simpler than that: We simply focused on what we could control; on what we wanted to experience.

What we did—and what anyone can do—is create our reality, one simple decision at a time.

thank you mask

 

Well now, this was a nice surprise!

 

Seal - Winner

My latest novel, A Fractured Conjuring, just took the top spot over at the Maxy Awards for Best Horror Novel.

“Exactly what horror should be… frightful, eerie, and unpredictable!” ~ Maxy Awards

A Fractured Conjuring - Concept 2 Variant - Large

That’s the second award so far for a book I thought would possibly lose me some friends. At the end of last year, this happened:

 

FC Best of 2015

 

It’s a dark novel, but not necessarily dark in a fun way. It’s uncomfortable at times–it was for me when I wrote it, and it is now when I reread it. The book went places I didn’t want it to go.

 

But somehow, in spite of my own misgivings, the silly thing is connecting with folks. Go figure.

 

If you are so inclined, I personally invite you to go buy it. And please do tell me what you think–good, bad, or otherwise. Click HERE.

 

And for more on how this book came into being, check out Genesis of a Nightmare.

 

thank you

A - Z Theme Reveal

 

Greetings, fiends and accomplices! We are creeping up slowly on the most awesome A-Z Blog Challenge. April 1st, the madness begins. One post per weekday, 26 in total, from A-Z!

We are quite giddy about this (we don’t get out much) and to assuage some of the giddiness, we are exposing ourselves…errr, our themes.

 

Ready, folks? My theme for April’s Challenge is…drumroll…

Drum-roll

 

!!! PHOBIAS !!!

 

One lovely little phobia for every letter of the alphabet. To make the posts easy-peasy to read, I will present my 26 posts in the form of Haiku. Quick to read, in and out, so you should have no qualms about clicking any one of the several Follow buttons off to the left of this post. Go and click, dear friends…I’ll wait.

do it now

 

Okay, so you are now following Mott’s Ruminations, yes?

Yes!

 

As a Thank You (and to show how generous I am) I’m gonna drop a bonus Haiku on your eyeballs. This will not be part of the 26, but, well, it was just too darned yummy to ignore. So, here you go:

 

Anatidaephobia

(A pervasive, irrational fear that one is being watched by a

duck)

 

Beady eyes staring,

she plots against me, stalking.

Quack, she whispers…quack.

Anatidaephobia - duck staring

See y’all in April. It’s gonna get freaky.

This is too awesome not to share – check it out!

 

OPEN CALL FOR SUBS: SEMI-COLONIC IRRIGATION – an anthology

Source: OPEN CALL FOR SUBS: SEMI-COLONIC IRRIGATION – an anthology

In many ways 2015 was one of the darkest years of my life; in many other ways it wasn’t. I suppose that’s what we call balance.

Toward the end of the year, as my personal life began to brighten, I repaid the Universe by seeing the publication of one of the darkest books I’ve ever written (or read). In December of 2015, Black Rose Writing published A Fractured Conjuring.

A Fractured Conjuring - Concept 2 Variant - Large

For reasons not entirely clear to me, it has been called a “brilliant, disturbing, and important work.” Well… “disturbing” I understand. This book has been disturbing me for years; disturbing my sleep, my peace of mind.

But how does a thing like this come to be?

I can’t help but wonder what people will think when they read the book, if they will think me depraved or simply mean-spirited. Some will ask questions as to why I thought it important to write such a thing.

And I will be at a loss for an answer. Because I truly don’t know.

I’ve maintained for years that this writing game is somewhat beyond my ken; an idea comes out of nowhere and then…grows. Characters supply their own dialogue; unforeseen people and events spring out of the ether and onto the page. When I explain this, the average person (the normal person who maybe does not lie awake listening to voices telling them there’s really no point in trying to sleep) looks at me askance, cocks an eyebrow, making it clear they don’t believe me. I can only shrug.

To the nightmare at hand; to A Fractured Conjuring. How did this particular nastiness happen?

A simple road sign:

Kimberlina Road

On a road trip to (of all places) Disneyland, my eyes spotted this sign. I’ve been on this trek countless times over the past twenty years, and have likely seen this sign on every one of those trips. But this time…that sweet name got stuck in my head and began to fester. I had no history with the name, no connection to my past, no sense at all why it grabbed hold. But I couldn’t shake it loose. I somehow knew this was going to be the name of a character in a book, and that this character would have important things to say, or maybe to teach me. I had zero sense of the story itself, only that it would be dark. And maybe big.

As the days and weeks passed I began to feel that the story could possibly span millennia, covering massive ground both temporally and geographically. I have no idea why I thought this—I didn’t have a story, only a feeling.

It’s hard to adequately describe what it’s like to have a story growing inside you, but somehow doing so outside your influence. It’s…well, disturbing.

More than a year went by before I set a single word to paper. I did so only then because I thought I might have an idea what the opening pages looked like. I got 6,000 or so words in before I stopped and laid it aside. I was scared. Not of what I was writing, but that I would mess it up. The feeling for this story had been infesting my brain for better than a year—how could I possibly do it justice? So I ran from it. I did other things. But Kimberlina stayed with me, a grimy child’s ghost fingers tugging at the hem of my shirt, telling me I had work to do, her story to tell. Didn’t matter that I didn’t know what that story was.

Eventually I got back to it. I barely remember my first efforts at conjuring this child, but I know that those early efforts never made it into the final book.

This is the part where I get around to telling you how the final book came to be, right?

Wrong. Because I still can’t tell you that. I still don’t know. When I wrote The End, I couldn’t help but ask myself: “Is it really? The end of what? Where did it begin?”

One of the main characters in A Fractured Conjuring is writing a book she knows nothing about—not too hard to figure out how that came to be—and as I was proofing the final copy, I came across a line I hardly remembered writing:

Still, she couldn’t keep away from it, and she didn’t feel so much like she was writing the story as it was somehow writing her.

And this:

What Chloe knew for certain was that she couldn’t leave this new project alone. It unnerved her; it wouldn’t leave her alone.

And that’s as close as I can come to explaining how this particular book came to be.

Oh, and then this happened:

FC Best of 2015

A book one reviewer called an “important” book.

Another reader, so unnerved by the story that she read it multiple times in an effort to understand, wrote this in an afterword she penned for the book:

“Martin Reaves…had the temerity to tackle an ugly, horrible subject, and he treated it with kindness and cleanliness. Yes, cleanliness.”

The same reviewer who it called it an important work ended his review with this:

“If you have never felt like your soul has been taken away from you at some point in your life, I wouldn’t recommend reading it.”

How does one create something so volatile that it can be recommended, then un-recommended in the same review?

How does one write a story he has almost no memory of plotting and have it hit a target he didn’t even know was there?

I have no answers.

And Kimberlina has only begun to speak.

 

A Fractured Conjuring is available now from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

I hope you will indulge me while I engage in a bit of harmless narcissism.

It recently came to my attention that I used to sing for folks. Like on stage and everything.

As a lark, I posted a very poor quality video of me singing a Guns-n-Roses tune and received some very nice words. You will likely not be surprised to hear that this pleased me.

What did surprise me was that these kind folks did not seem to know that I actually do this (or used to) semi-professionally. I began to wonder how many others of you out there are similarly out of the know.

So then. Here are a few moments from the recent past you might find fun. Or you may find them annoying, in which case you are invited to keep your big yap shut, um-kay?

I was lucky enough to spend some quality time with Foxtrot Mary, and the Fabulous Dana Moret of Mr. December. Good times indeed. All these fine folks are still out there, gettin’ funky and making the world a better place through music. Click their highlighted names and find them wherever they are playing next.

From large venues to tiny rooms with nothing but crickets to hear us, these were moments I will never forget. Enjoy.