Author: Michael-Lejeune

I write about stuff, and I have fiction and music available. Check it out!

Shame the Devil, Released Worldwide!

It’s out! It’s done! It’s available for the whole world to snarf down and enjoy!

Thanks to everyone in my life who encouraged me, helped me along the way, and believed in me. I mean really. You know who you are.

THANK YOU.

You can check out my Amazon Author Page here.

You can order a copy of the book for your Kindle. Or if you like pulpy paper slabs, you can order a paperback.

Or you can do none of those things, and you would still be awesome. It’s that kind of day.

To Boldly Split Infinitives

Ever since I started taking writing seriously (catch me on most days and I’ll tell you I still don’t) I have been amazed at how fluid the rules for grammar, and in fact all of writing, are.

As kids in English Class, we’re taught how to follow the rules. You don’t end sentences with prepositions. Passive voice is always wrong. Never split an infinitive. Hard and fast rules like that are good for attention-deficient sproutlings like the ones that shared my high school classrooms (and me, of course. I was mostly thinking about boobs and lizards and Megadeth in those days), because telling a fifteen-year-old to do something is hard enough without having to tack on an exception or two or nine.

But still, one of my English teachers (thanks, Mr. Furlow) made a point of saying at least once that the reason you learn these rules is so that you can break them. Read any accomplished author, he said, and see how many times they break the rules. That, of course, mostly just fueled apathy toward the subject, but that portion of the lesson stuck with me more than anything—even more than the endless sentence diagrams we were all inculcated with.

These days I find myself frequently researching the proper use for punctuation. I just spent an hour working on how best to use ellipses in Shame the Devil. I overuse them, I’m told, but I choose to stick with the usage I know. I also don’t put spaces before, after, or inside of them. I don’t add punctuation at the end of an ellipsis if it precedes a dialogue tag. I use them when dialogue trails off AND again when it picks back up, if it picks back up at all. But I don’t do this if it doesn’t feel right for the character’s rhythm of speech.

All of these strategies are advised against by some, and are endorsed by others. There isn’t a rule of rules to go by, that has since been re-thought, nor was there ever a rule which was slowly perverted by repeated misuse. It’s author’s choice. Always has been. Just about the only hard and fast rule there is in such matters is to be consistent inside the work (and I’m ready to see an example of why this rule should be broken, too).

I run into this situation any time I research a usage issue that isn’t obvious. And by obvious I mean there’s little point in breaking a rule that doesn’t accomplish anything. Why use a semicolon when a question mark is called for? Why omit an apostrophe from a contraction? You’re just going to look stupid if you break a rule for the sake of breaking it. Don’t be a punk.

But overuse of ellipses or dashes? Look what it did for Emily Dickinson. Offsetting internal dialogue instead of working it into the character’s unquoted voice? Ever read Dune? How about Cormac McCarthy…I mean um…just LOOK at his work.

My point is, they (and many others) broke the rules and wound up creating something better. Sort of like when a band purposefully employs substandard production values in the recording studio, resulting in a more visceral/thrilling album. *Ahem* I am am NOT referring to the poseurs who dumb down their production for the sake of having a dumbed-down production.

I’m just saying that in the world of writing, as long as you’ve read Strunk & White, no one can beat you over the head with it anymore.

Breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law… I love it! Because guess what? It means we can do whatever we want. That’s great! Not because I just love to slop up my pages with whatever suits my fancy, but because creative writing ought to be as free as the inspiration behind it. The right tool for the right job, my dad would say. Composing fiction is a job, and writing is a tool that needs to be capable of it, no matter whose hands it’s in.

There will always be the grammarian elite out there, sneering at methods that don’t follow the “accepted” guidelines. “Accepted”, in this case, means whatever most people do. But who cares? Are you writing for them? I’m not.

But then, I’m forgetting my audience. If you are reading this, and you write, all of the above is probably very old news to you. But I felt like writing about it, dammit, and that’s good enough reason to do so. Motivation is the most valuable tool in writing, I think… Same as other arts. And I don’t have to spend it making sentence diagrams, analyzing Steinbeck, or coming up with lame acrostics using my school’s name if I don’t want to.

This isn’t English class anymore.

Grisly Snippets

Isn’t it funny how life has a way of killing you?

Sometimes it’s all we can do to stay afloat and stay alive. And, well, I just did a little of that and have returned to not tell the story!

But I have other stories for you. Such delights, my pretties. I have a story about a man who visits his dying grandmother only to find that she has forgotten the family secret and is terrified of its evidence on her own body. I have another about a hidden town, tucked away from society and charged with the task of keeping The Easter Bunny – or rather the creature that spawned the legend – from spawning young. I have tales of woes from average Joes, stories of schmoes beaten with hoes, severed toes and a witness that knows, and um…more of those.

And it’s all on its way, but first I MUST get the final edit of Shame The Devil out and available for you all to sample its wonders. The good news is this is very close.

For now, enjoy this month’s Misfortune 500, a grisly snippet centered around a jar of yummy peanuts and sugar and salt and oil…

There’s No Place Like Home

Ding! Dong! The witch is dead!

That is exactly how I feel. Except instead of “The witch is dead!”, it’s “The cover art is done!”

Graphic Art Wizardess Abbi K has worked extra-special magics into the cover for Shame The Devil. It’s been a learning experience for both of us (Did you know that DPI is graphic-artistinian for doggies-per-inch and is pronounced doopy? Now you do). You can see the front cover here, and you’ll have to trust me when I say the back cover and spine are equally awesome.

Or better yet, buy a copy!

Well, buy one when it becomes available. Which will be soon. Today I ordered my first galley proof, and I’m excited. When the mailman delivers it, I intend to take a knee and chant a song of praise in a deep, melodious baritone. When the glorious ray of sunshine wanes, I’ll take it inside where I can worship it further.

Then comes the incremental disappointment that comes with finding all the errors in the proof. But that’s what it’s for, after all. And when they’ve all been sorted out, the book can be translated for ebooks and slapped onto the worldwide market in both formats: electro-mah-jigger and pulpy-papery-slab. And then everyone runs to their computers and buys one!

The website is looking more snazzy lately as well. I upgraded a few pages, got some issues with image quality and alignment figured out. And I added the Misfortune 500, an idea I had for getting a bit of my writing style on the website, inviting participation from visitors (that’s you!) and of course, having a bit of fun.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to start plying Abbi for more artwork. I have a few publications planned for 2013 and as of right now, not a jot of art to jazz them up with.

Wish me luck!

Let’s Get Meta

So what is the point of this whole blogging thing?  Why am I searching for ideas for content for my meager little corner of the web?  Why am I gearing up my brain to spout an itty-bitty packaged tale at readers every so often?  You didn’t ask me for it.  In fact, in my estimation, you’d probably be better without it.

But I’m putting a book up for sale soon. I am a garage saler, and Shame the Devil is my old, dusty Atari console that just happens to still work (if you were lucky enough to read Harry Potter as a child, fret not over your confusion – an Atari is like a Playstation, but made of twigs and rocks and powered by a hamster wheel). I have marked my ancient video game console with a buy-me-please low price, but how do I get anyone to see it?

Here’s how:

  1. I take the tops of last week’s pizza boxes and write ‘Garage Sale’ crudely on them with a sharpie, in true homeless beggar style.
  2. I duct-tape these to the street signs not only at the ends of my own street, but at major intersections all over the area.

If I want my archaeological artifact of electronic recreation to actually sell, I need to make sure that every passerby in the tri-county sell-zone knows that some schmuck on Elm Street eats lots of pizza and is having a garage sale.  It’s the same for my novel.  Nobody’s gonna read it if I don’t plaster it everywhere, sparing no exclamation points.

But I’m no blogger. Or at least, that’s what I thought until the need to put my narrative nonsense into the minds of others struck me like a flying slab of slaptastic salami. I think though, that the nonsense I blather at my friends could easily translate into a tasty blog – perhaps that’s where the term actually came from after all. Blog = Blather Log? Or perhaps it’s actually an acronym: Boring List of Gimcrackery.

So here’s my first real blog, done for the sake of itself. I hope it inspires a teeny spot of interest in my book. It’s cheap, and I’m told it’s fun to read. At any rate, reading it has to be more inspiring than playing Space Invaders for a comparable period of time.

Probably, anyway.

Stories are Up

And lo! It was a gargantuan effort of HTML — but the Short Fiction section now contains listings for all the short stories I’ve managed to bamboozle an editor into accepting for publication so far. Going back to the sites of the publications is always anxious business – the old issues often disappear. What’s worse is when the entire mag disappears too.

Links for stories are in there, along with four pieces of art that were associated with the story (except in the case of Queen Kathleen, where I added the nicely appropriate issue cover art).

The editor of Morpheus Tales, the delicious British mag that published Brother of Death, let me know that Issue 18 will be the last printed. From now on the mag will be digital only. I received a hard copy in the mail a couple weeks ago, and it looks great. Morpheus Tales was the first publication I’ve ever actually received a contributor’s print copy of the mag from – though not the first to promise me one. There’s a fantastic Giger-esque cover for it, too. You can get your own copy for about 8 US bucks here.