At the end of May, 2010, I became a better writer.

It didn’t happen overnight. It didn’t even happen in a week. Well, it happened in about a week. I attended the first ever Bizarro Bootcamp in Portland, Oregon, hosted by my publishers, Eraserhead Press.

I’ve been to two bootcamps in my life. The first one was at the Marine Military Academy in 1986. I was fifteen, and it was called two weeks of “introduction” or something like that in the literature. It was bootcamp modeled after the Marine Corps’. But it was run by sadistic teenagers who’d been through it the same, if not worse, than they were giving it to us. It was a torturous, identity-stripping, robot-building experience that took many years to shake-off.

The second bootcamp was completely different.  I’ll never want to let go of Bizarro Bootcamp. I’m going to let it keep sinking-in for the rest of my life. The Eraserhead Crew instilled me with not only a great sense of place in my writing career, but also with the knowledge and skills to make myself a true professional.

I was honored to be invited to attend the first ever Bizarro Bootcamp. I’d recently spent the past half of the year promoting my first book (Rotten Little Animals) released as part of Eraserhead’s New Bizarro Author Series. Eraserhead Press wanted to start a training program for their new writers, and I was happily their first trainee.

They sent me a handbook to prepare me for what was to come about two or three weeks before my time at camp began, and asked me to brainstorm new ideas for a book to write during my ten days there, along with titles and a brief synopsis of their storylines. I came up with twenty-one titles.

I arrived in Portland for Bizarro Bootcamp on May 27^th, 2010.

From the moment I arrived, I went to work—Bizarro Style.

I walked through the back door of Bizarro Bunker 2.0 (where at one time three bizarro authors and two bizarro artists all lived together in a creation-pit) and was greeted by Jeff Burk. Cameron Pierce showed up within five minutes.

They let me say hello and then made me go upstairs to Cameron’s room and write a flash fiction story that would be submitted to a magazine as soon as I was done with it. I picked a person, place, and situation from crumpled pieces of paper in Cameron’s desk which gave me the plot to follow. I was to write about a hitman at a soccer game who had to kill his geriatric, bed-ridden father or something like that. I had an hour. So I did that. It was later rejected by the magazine.

Rose O’Keefe and Carlton Mellick III arrived at the Bunker while I was writing my flash piece. When I finished, Rose presented me with a gorgeous notebook for my time at bootcamp that she collaged with many wonderful and personal things for and about me. It’s something that’s a big deal to me. It showed me right away what I was in for. It made me feel welcome and expectant of adventure.

On the inside cover was a list of what to bring and not bring for bootcamp that Carlton had sent me in an email earlier.

Bring:

Laptop

Sleeping bag (not that you’ll be sleeping)

Food/Beer money

An open mind

Optional:

Extra book ideas

Toiletries

A vehicle

Rations

Clothes

Don’t  Bring:

Your ego

Other stuff to do besides writing

The family

Below that Rose had written the quote at the top of this article.

Carlton and I went to lunch to talk about my future with Eraserhead and to go over parts of the Eraserhead Handbook.

After lunch, Carlton and I met the rest of the crew at Lucky Lab Brew Pub—the Eraserhead hangout. Many, MANY important decisions about many awesome books are made at the tables outside that pub over beer and pizza.

Over pizza and beer, I pitched my twenty-one story ideas to Rose, Carlton, Jeff, and Cameron. We settled on one that everyone liked and seemed doable for bootcamp. Later we determined that it was a fairly ambitious project for the time I had to write it. But it worked out brilliantly.

On my first day of bootcamp, I knew what my next book was going to be. The next day, the only day I had the time, energy, or awareness to write down what I’d done the day before, I wrote, “Invincible Island”. But that’s not the title we landed on later.

The second day of bootcamp I met with Cameron. He went over a story of mine that I’d had rejected and gave me reasons why. Two important mistakes I was making stood out. We talked about how to improve my work, and Cameron gave me books about the craft of writing that had helped him. It was a great meeting, and I came away with new understanding about the art in general as well as my expression of it.

The crew gathered at the Bunker to watch Star Wars so they could point out plot points in the Hero’s Journey, which I was learning about. But the DVD player hated the movie, and we had to abandon that.

We settled for Avatar, since it had the same story arc.

I was not a fan of the movie, but it definitely illustrated the Hero’s Journey for me. At that point, Carlton changed my movie-watching experience forever by telling me to look for plot points, and observe the outline of the story, to see the arc and figure it out as I watch. Now I do it to every movie.

We began an intense group effort that evening. Something that I’d expected to come of my experience, but not something I fully appreciated until it was over. That evening we began brainstorming about my book.

Five of us together, sitting and thinking about the story, characters, plot, motivations, and other aspects. And I learned how to outline.

I’d never outlined a single thing I’d ever written.

Carlton Mellick taught me how. He also showed me the virtues of the process and how it makes the whole thing that much more fun. I’ll always outline now. (And I’ll most likely try a trick I learned from John Skipp when I told him about how Carlton showed me the light the next time I outline a book.)

So we outlined.

I learned how Eraserhead works. A great creative collective, who shift to let each other shine. They are a supportive family of artists who work toward bringing the best out of each other. And I was suddenly a part of it.

Thankfully, it was something I love. We took my ideas and expounded upon them, like a bunch of people talking over some crazy idea over coffee at 3AM. Only this was directed creative babble. This had purpose, and plot, and from it we built an outline. Each part of the crew had input. We bent and shifted to allow expertise to take control. We debated, admired, encouraged, and relented. Brilliant lines were chucked, and tiny passages were encouraged into full-blown battle scenes. From the moment I pitched the idea, it became a living discussion between all of us, with my writing at the helm, supported by the mighty imaginings of the artists around me.

We outlined the first three chapters together on the second day.

I started work on the first few chapters on the third day of bootcamp, after lunch with Jeremy Robert Johnson.

Jeremy is someone that I greatly admire, appreciate, and genuinely like to be around. He’s one of the most intelligent and witty people I’ve met, and he’s constantly hilarious, and I really can’t say enough about what a tremendously excellent person he is. I also happen to be a big fan of his writing. He and I went to lunch and discussed another short story of mine that I’d had trouble selling.

He amazed me by saying the same thing as Cameron had said to me the day before. They said the exact sentence about a fatal flaw in my technique. I love them both so much for it. I wanted to hug Jeremy across the booth. I think I did. He helped in other ways with ideas about technique, too, and really taught me a great deal about how to improve my writing over lunch. Then we went back to his place where he showed me the Swallowdown Press offices, and talked with me about really smart things like how to do my taxes as a fulltime writer. Because he’s brilliant!

I found a message to my wife that I wrote that day that said I’d learned more about writing in two days than I had in ten years of actively doing it. I stand by that.

I went back to the Eraserhead offices after lunch and got busy. I started writing what is now called, Island of the Super People.

When I was finished with the first three chapters, the others read them and discussed changes, improvements, and places the story could go. They presented those ideas to me and we discussed them. We then ate dinner, brainstormed, and went to bed.

On Sunday we outlined a few chapters together and I wrote two or three. But Sunday mostly belonged to Famous Author, Mykle Hansen. He arrived at the office to pick me up in the early evening. He said we were going out. I thought to dinner. I was wrong.

I knew some things about Mykle Hansen at that point, beyond his status as Famous Author. I’d been around Mykle, and I really like him. He’s got a love of life, and the planet, and he’s not a pushy jerk about it because he’s genuine. He’s one of the funniest people ever, too, and that ranks him high in my Book of Likes. But I figured that if I was going somewhere with him in Portland, that we’d walk, ride a train, or pedal bikes—because I knew that Mykle is very involved in the bicycle world and in helping the world grow in general.

Outside the office, chained to a post, was a tall bike and a banana bike (is that what you call ‘em?). Mykle built them both. Mine was a short, long one with a tiny front tire and a large tire in the back. It had a garland of flowers on the big, swooping handlebars. Mykle rode a huge tall bike, the kind with the biggest front tire ever—like those 1800s bikes you see in sketchings, ridden by men with mustaches that match the handlebars on my bike. Mykle couldn’t stop, because to do so meant he’d have to get off the thing. It was awesome.

We rode around downtown and the Famous Author made me describe the places he took me—parks and fountains and such. He’d point and shout, “Describe!” Sometimes he’d limit my responses. “Describe! No adjectives!” (Yeah, try that shit riding around on a trick bike in downtown Portland in the rain with your laptop slung over your back.) I loved it.

He took me for martinis. He didn’t even know how much I love martinis at the time.

And that is when the mystery began.

After explaining to me why he’d been asking me to describe things, we left the hotel bar and headed for the train. Mykle had a flat on the way. He thought he’d fixed it, but by the time we got off the train, it was obvious that it was more damaged than he’d thought.

But before the train pulled into the station, Mykle told me, “We might see some friends of mine at this next stop.” It was the stop after that, when we arrived at our destination, that we saw them.

Getting off the train, pushing my bike along, having no idea where we were or why we were there, I was met by a pack of very interesting bike riders—smiling, Beyond Thunderdome bike riders. People with crazy bikes, friendly faces, and a dangerous quality in their auras.

There were guys with mini-dirt bikes wearing motocross body armor and motorcycle helmets. There was a girl on a BMX bike that had been created from six or ten other bikes. Some people had bigger rides. Nearly everyone wore knee-boots with metal all over them, spiked arm bands and wrist guards, or mohawked, full-face headgear and leathers with fire shooting out of their tires and lasers mounted on their handlebars (not really, but that’s what it seemed like). I started wondering what the fuck at that point. Mykle looked at me and smiled, hoisting his bike and leading me to the elevators. He said hi to the pack and we all crammed in.

They all smiled, nodded, and said hello.

I thought at this point that fucking Mykle Hansen was taking me to a bike-polo game and had given me a crappy little helmet and a trick bike with slick tires to go after Mad Max and his Post-Apocalyptic Two Men Enter One Man Leaves Gang. It’s a good thing I’m a badass, because he just smiled and nodded, and told those guys, “See you at the top,” when he stopped to fix his tire again. Otherwise, I’d have probably been worried for my safety. And thought about my brand new laptop strapped across my back.

The pack said, “See you at the top.” And they rode off into the dark, rainy night, somewhere off to my right.

It was then that Mykle learned that his tire was more damaged than he’d thought. After a few more loads of bikers came out of elevators and talked briefly to the Famous Author in a dialect of Portlandese with which I was unfamiliar about the mysterious, “top”, and about “last week”, and “the turnout” and such, he decided it was going to take a miracle to get his bike back in action.

Mykle explained where he was trying to take me, while we stood under the eaves of the train station and the rain grew heavy, fearing his plan was ruined.

Zoo Bomb. You most likely know what that word combination means if you live in Portland and have any idea about what goes on in the night time. If you are not one of those people, I’ll explain it as I remember Mr. Hansen explaining it to me (I’ll be sure and edit out all the atrocious swears and slurs about the presidents of several countries. And I won’t remember the details correctly, or the name of the hill or if it even has a name. This will be a reasonable facsimile of the truth of the explanation). [note—I wrote to Mykle to get the details.]:

There’s a big hill in Portland. At the top is the zoo. The elevator from the station opens in front of the World Forestry Center Building, which is made entirely of old growth timber. Not far up the hill, at the very top is the Hoyt Arboretum.

Mykle explained to me that every Sunday night, a group of wild and interesting characters get together at the top of that hill with their crazy assortment of two-wheeled, pedal-powered vehicles. They gather under the trees—hidden away from non-Bombers—and drink beer and those horrible beverages to which I was introduced that night, Four Locos. Terrible, terrible invention. Do not drink them.

At the perfect moment, or there may actually be a given time, the bedecked bike riders come out from under the shelter of the trees, ride down to the street, and gather again at the starting point of a high-speed jam down the long, tall hill in the dark.

There are several routes, and there are determining factors as to which route is chosen as the Bomb each particular night. The veteran Bombers call the shots, speak the rules before the start, and make sure those of us who have no idea what the fuck we’re doing, do what we should.

But Mykle was fairly certain his plan to throw me into that race through the night had been dashed by a ruined tire.

I said, “Well, let’s just make it happen.”

Within five minutes, Mykle’s Brazilian friend Tiago got off the elevator and happened to have the right tube to fit Mr. Hansen’s big ol’ bike. We were in business.

Mykle forced me to ride up this giant-ass hill from the elevators to the top. I told him, as I struggled and wheezed, that this was the first time I’d been on a bike in twenty years and that I’d only just quit my 20-year habit of cigarette smoking a year before, and to slow the fuck down and let me get off the damned bike, but he just told me how smart I was to quit smoking and pedaled on. I love him.

Up at the top, I met some Zoo Bombers, drank Four Loco (one sip—it was all I needed to know I didn’t ever want more), mingled under the umbrellas of the trees, and then climbed onto my banana seat, and rode down to the starting line.

I listened to the rules. I learned that there were usually a lot more people out for the ride, but that only the hardcore had shown up because of the rain. I was the only newb.

After a count-down from ten, we took off down the hill. Bombing it.

Right from the start, I loved it.

Wind, rain, people on bikes whizzing by, and Mykle as my leader—checking back on me to make sure I was still behind him. It was awesome.

We took Route 3.0—Mykle tells me—through quiet, dark neighborhoods. I was at the end of the pack, with the people who look out for everyone bringing up the rear. And I was flying. It was one of the freer moments of my life. There was rushing in my ears, and the ticking of bike gears and wheels. My slicks hummed on the wet asphalt. Red lights blinked from the bikes ahead of me, people whooped now and then. The rain just made it all seem more like I was six years old and didn’t know how bad it would hurt to tumble face-first down the road.

Soon enough, on a hard right turn, I went down.

It was fast and wet and I remember worrying about my new laptop strapped to my back for half-a-second, and then I was on my side, picking gravel out of my hand. Totally six years old. It was amazing.

Mykle came back and circled around me as I got up, shook it off (rubbed some dirt on it as my friend James likes to say), and got back on to the Bomb. I awoke early the next morning with a tremendous pain in my knee that didn’t really go away for the next three days, but at the time, thanks to adrenaline and that sip of Four Loco, shit was cool and I was ready to go. I didn’t even flinch and I probably even went faster, knowing that even without motorcycle armor and lasers, I could take it.

We regrouped at Washington Park proper shortly after that and the leaders picked the rest of the route. We took a route called Switchbacks down, a dark switchback that led to a neighborhood called Goose Hollow, where everyone met at the Goose Hollow MAX station. Most of the pack got on the train to take the ride again. Mykle took pity on wet, injured me, and we rode back downtown to Mykle’s waiting car. He drove me to the Bunker.

I’m pretty sure I’ve thanked him for such an amazing, thrilling, different, surprising night, but I’d like to do it again. Thank you, Mykle. Zoo Bomb is like nothing else in the world, and something I definitely want to do again. But this time, on one of those little mini dirt bikes, with full gear and no rain. Well, maybe rain.

I told the people at the Bunker about my amazing evening, and went to bed shortly after arriving. After the pain-awakening, I managed a couple more hours of sleep, getting the most sleep I’d get in one night from that point on. Because after that, things got serious.

The next morning we went to work. I sat and banged out a few more chapters while everyone read what I’d written the day before. We brainstormed and outlined. Everyone gave suggestions, told me what wasn’t working for them, and the parts and ideas they really loved. I wrote. They read and took notes. I averaged a thousand words an hour, handing over three chapters or so at a time to the rest of the crew.

I never once read what I’d written previously. Not until over a month later, when I went back to write the second draft. So I did funny things, like change characters names midway through the story and forget where I’d left people. But mostly it was an easy flow. For the next few days I wrote, ate, and slept. And that’s how it went.

The bulk of my novel was written in four or five days. It was amazing. I sat in Carlton Mellick’s office, with Rose’s iPod because I couldn’t get online, with THE Baby Jesus Buttplug in front of me as inspiration, and typed away on my super laptop which survived the Zoo Bomb wipeout without an injury. Yay, Toshiba!

On Friday I went to lunch with Rose and Jeff. We ate tacos (tacos!!) and talked about my future career with Eraserhead. I finished the novel that night, just before 11PM, while Carlton worked beside me and everyone else packed up to meet us at Lucky Lab for our celebration of me completing my book. We drank beer and talked about what an amazing experience the process had been. I felt accomplished and tired. I’m pretty sure I was not alone in those feelings.

Saturday, June 5th began with Carlton and I going to 3-D Glow-In-The-Dark Mini Golf. Yes. You should do that. If you ever get a chance to go with Carlton Mellick III, you should do that especially. We had a great time. It was pirate, skeleton, and alien themed. With 3-D glasses, everything was crazy and confusing. Adding children running around screaming made it borderline chaotic. We enjoyed ourselves.

Then we tried to avoid crazy parade traffic downtown and ate some lunch.

While this was happening, the rest of the crew was preparing for a graduation ceremony. I was unawares.

Carlton and I met up with everyone at the Lucky Lab. Soon enough, Jeremy—who is our go-to emcee for all occasions—led us from our table, past the parking lot, and out to the street next to another parking lot. He was carrying some paper bags filled with stuff, like he does.

They had Chrissy take me away from the group and keep me company while some sort of preparations happened behind us on the sidewalk.

And the ceremony began.

Everyone had a funky hat. Jeremy put one of those graduation caps that you’re all going to know the name of but I don’t on my head. Everyone else had a musical instrument, and they walked around me in a circle, playing them. I’m pretty sure Jeremy chanted things about me, or at me, or maybe he rapped—damn this memory of mine! There were fireworks and a speech by Rose that made me cry. I graduated from Bizarro Bootcamp.

They gave me things, too. I was presented with a graduation certificate, signed by everyone who’d had a part in my experience. They gave me a print by Alan M. Clarke called I Hope You Enjoyed Your Stay, signed by him and the Eraserhead crew. Rose gave me a superhero action figure that she’d painted to look like one of the characters from my book. And I finally got an Eraserhead Press t-shirt—the last one left. That made me cry, too.

It was the perfect graduation ceremony.

Then we ate pizza and drank beer until very late at night. I had a fabulous time.

The next morning Rose took me to a place she’d heard about where people met up to dance. It was an adventure for both of us. We discovered ecstatic dance. It was the best way I can think of to end my bootcamp experience. Rose and I danced in a ballroom with twenty or thirty strangers, all moving however we wanted to two or more songs playing over one another for an hour or two. We released the previous ten days of frenetic, creative, shoulder-tightening energy with foot-stomping, hip-slinging, arm-raising, head-shaking, chest-thrumming dance. Perfect. Then we took a walk, talked, and ate breakfast at a sweet little spot Rose knew.

After that, I went back to the Bunker and gathered Cameron because I was giving him a ride to Olympia. I was finally able to return his CDs that had spent six months in my car and had seen at least three other chances to reunite with him. We spent the two hour drive decompressing and talking more about what we’d just been through.

Bizarro Bootcamp was one of the most enlightening, enjoyable times of my life. I learned more in two days there than I’d learned in two years. Ten days taught me that I’ve always more to learn, but that with the basics, I can go far while learning. It was also one of the most difficult times—physically, emotionally, and creatively. It stretched me. I am far better for it, but it was hard.

It was a great pleasure and honor to be taught the tricks of the trade by such masters of the craft. It was intense, powerful, and seriously put me on the path to success. The experience is something that is still settling with me. There are ideas about technique that I’m applying to my writing, and new skills that I’m trying out.

I wrote a novel while I was there. Something I’m quite proud of. I hope you all like it as much as I do. I just sent the second draft in to Eraserhead Press. I’ll see how the crew likes where I went with their notes and ideas, and what they think of the little surprises. And then I’ll finish it up. You can read it sometime at the beginning of next year, if you’re so inclined.

My continuing thanks to everyone involved with Bizarro Bootcamp. You’ve given me more than any of us can gauge at this point. You taught me, and opened my mind. The skills I learned will be fun and challenging to try and master. I feel welcomed, secure, and excited for the years to come. I will succeed because of you. We will succeed together.

If you want to be a bizarro writer, I’d suggest finding out how you can get yourself into Bizarro Bootcamp. I’m happier and more proud than I can put into words about being the first to graduate from such a worthwhile program. I hope I’ve explained it well enough so that you can glimpse what a life-altering, powerful experience it was. It changed me.

I feel ready for the future.

I’m actually still recovering from the amazing, enlightening, absolutely perfect experience of Bizarro Bootcamp.

I wrote a book in four days! It’s nearly twice the length of Rotten Little Animals. That’s some whirlwind writing. My shoulders will tell you so. My brain, too.

There will be a detailed report on the unique and mind-blowing time I spent in Portland with the Eraserhead Press crew. But for now I need to relax and let it all soak in. I learned more about writing, and specifically MY writing, in the first two days of bootcamp than I had in ten years of active practice.

Endless thanks from my heart go to Rose, Carlton, Jeff, Cameron, Jeremy, Mykle, Chrissy, Angie, and everyone else who had a part in my time there. It was definitely FUN.

More soon.

It’s good to be home.

I leave tomorrow for ten days. While I’m gone, will someone please feed the cat? And watch the dog’s dishes, too. Thank you! Zane will take care of the plants. (If you could just wrench the watering can out of his little hands now and then…)

I’ll have plenty to tell you about my adventures at the first ever Bizarro Bootcamp when I’m back, you can bet on it. Please don’t bet on it, though, because I’m telling you now that I’m going to do it, so betting against that would just be throwing your money away. Give it to a food bank or something, instead.

Have fun while I’m gone. No fighting! Well, just no unprovoked punching or kicking or mad Kung-Fu finger-flicking. You can be acerbic and provocative all you want. I’ll be back sometime on the sixth of June. Just have stuff cleaned up by then, and make sure your robot girl vanquishes the apocalyptic future dudes.

See ya!

I have been very, very busy lately. I’ve been working at promoting my book, and writing smaller bits when I have a chance. I’ve had a few things published in the past couple of months, and I thought I’d make up a list for those of you who like reading the things I write–in case I’ve not talked enough about them already. 

In March, Every Day Fiction published my story, What Name Do I Give Her?, a semi-autobiographical flash fiction experimental bit about crystal meth and a stripper I once knew oh so well. The New Flesh featured my flash story, Hunting J.K. I can’t tell you much about it without giving it all away, but it’s about time-travel and changing history.

Withersin came out with their new format in April, launching three magazines combined into one thick treat of terror and weirdness. My story, Sculpting, is inside. It’s a story about a talented little guy who meets a God. It’s also about spiders. That one you can’t find online.

In May I wrote up an article for Garrett Cook and Crew’s bad movie review blog, Dollar Bin Massacre. I tried to defend Battlefield Earth. Eric Mays interviewed me on his excellent new site, The Authors Speak. It’s one of my all-time favorite interviews. That site in general is a great place to go to learn the inside stuff on lots of great writers. Eric knows how to ask the right questions. A story of mine, The Skin of the Mountain, came out in Dark Recesses Magazine on Mother’s Day. It’s one of my personal favorites. I hope you like it, too. It’s about life-cycles and a bug apocalypse.

I also sold another of my favorite stories to an upcoming anthology called, Toe Tags II. Watch for announcements about that. It’s a story I wrote over fifteen years ago.

Bizarro Bootcamp is coming up soon. I’m pretty excited about that and I hope to tell you all a great deal more about it afterward, before I head to CryptiCon. I’m preparing for bootcamp by writing a story (finished last night) I hope to sell to an upcoming anthology and taking it as easy as possible for the next two weeks.

Thanks for reading!

Bizarro Bootcamp? Yes. It starts on May 27th. I’ve already shaved my head.

There’s a lot of questions out there about Bizarro Bootcamp. I have TONS of questions about it myself. Every new recruit does, when faced with bootcamp. All they know of it is what they’ve heard from those who’ve gone before them. And since everyone’s experience is different, that’s not a lot to go by. The thing about this Bizarro Bootcamp is, I’ll be the first to go through it. I don’t even have stories of other people’s experiences. It’s a mystery.

But not a scary one.

Here’s what I know: I’ll be staying at the Bizarro Bunker for ten days. Well, for seven days, really, because… I’ll be doing a three-day writing marathon with Carlton Mellick III somewhere else. Yes. That means a new novella, written in the groundbreaking, mind-fucking style developed by Mr. Mellick. I can’t WAIT!

There’s a handbook for new bizarros being written and I’ll have a copy of it within the next couple of weeks. I’ll be starting on it before bootcamp. Once I’m in Portland, I will be STEEPED in the bizarro movement. I will learn from established bizarro authors what it means to be that sort of thing. I’ll drink beer. I will most likely laugh until my sides hurt and think about stuff that I’ve never even considered. I will learn about marketing, promotion, and the business of being a writer.

I’ll learn from the masters of the genre what it takes to make it in the genre. And while I’m there, I’ll be using my own experience from not only going through a different sort of bootcamp, but from also being on the other side of bootcamp as an instructor, to help structure Bizarro Bootcamp for future recruits. I’ll be the dude that starts the stories about what bootcamp is like.

While I’m away at camp (and I could be completely wrong about this because I quite seriously do not know) I’m pretty sure I won’t have a great deal of time to promote and sell my book. So I’m going to need some rotten little sergeants to keep things going for me while I’m away. Thus, a contest. And the birth of our Rotten Little Army.

I’m gonna ask one more time for your help. I need some new recruits. This is because I have great news about our efforts so far. Last month, thanks to the success of RLA Day and YOUR support, 35 copies of Rotten Little Animals sold at Amazon. That’s the best month ever! What it means is, I only need to sell 45 more copies to reach my goal of 200 copies in a year. 45!

That’s forty-five new recruits. I’m hoping some sergeants will rise from our ranks and gather up some newbs to enlighten them to the Natural magic that is Rotten Little Animals. I need YOU.

I will reward you handsomely. At least, sorta cutely. Here’s what I propose: Whoever brings me the most new recruits gets a hand drawn, hand bound, hand signed, hand everything Rotten Little Animals Go To Bootcamp Coloring Book. I’m going to make three of them. I think ten or fifteen drawings for you to color. I’ll draw them up after I get out of boot and they’ll reflect my experiences there. But it’ll be your old pals from the book, up to some silly adventures and MISadventures. The three of you who help me sell those remaining forty-five copies will get one.

The contest starts now and ends on June 7th, the day after bootcamp ends for me.

I think it can work two ways–book sales and fans (or likers) for the Rotten Little Animals page. But it would have to be something like, ten fans equal one book sale. So, if you gather ten new fans for my page, it counts for selling one book.

How to keep track of this? Easy peasy.

When someone buys a book on Amazon, they get a receipt. They need only email you a copy of it and you send it to me. With any personal information removed, of course. kevin@shamelesscreations.com

Any new fans you gather, just keep track of their names and send me a list.

Does this sound fun? Fan gathering, book hawking, and in the end you get a coloring book about rotten little bizarro bootcampers and the satisfaction of knowing that I’ll be writing more books once those last forty-five of RLA are sold. Did I mention that I already have some crazy cool ideas? Did I mention I’m not writing them until I get these last books sold?

Anyone want to be my sergeants? Line ‘em up. Move ‘em out.

If you share this by clicking those facebook buttons and linking here and such, it’s a good way to start winning. I really hope someone decides to do this. I’ve been itching to create a coloring book for those rotten little bastards for a long time.

And forty-five more copies to launch me into my superstar world-dominating bizarro career! We can do it!!

Thank you all, for all you’ve done to get me here. It’s been a great ride. April showed me just how much you really do care and I feel your freaky love, each and every one of you. I love you, too.

For-waaaaard!

The book will look somethin’ like this only better and funny because I just drew this up in a couple of minutes so you know that the coloring book might be kinda cool. I’ll take my time, and be funny. Promise.

It’s been one hell of a month. We started this sucker with Rotten Little Animals Day, and I just ended it with quite a personal victory. Let me tell you, I’ve learned a few lifetimes worth of lessons this April. And I’ve got a lot of YOU to thank for the lessons about asking for help, about sharing gifts and imaginations, and about the love and support of people who can never be strangers to me again. I’ve had a great time this month, giving and receiving. I’m happy to say that April of Twenty-Ten has rocked my ass, my world, my book sales, and my soul.

RLA. This book is ON FIRE. I only need to sell fifty more copies to meet my goal of 200 Amazon sales in one year. That’s right! Fifty more. Who’dya know wants ta buy a book? Really. That’s only fifty more friends of friends. Fifty more people who get to share in the Natural wonder of it all. Can you believe it?! I can. Thank you, friends. Thank you for all you’ve done and continue to do to help me continue my path as a World Dominating Bizarro Writing Imagination Machine. I promise that as soon as these fifty copies are out the door, I’ll be writing more. And MORE. Do you want more? Cuz I’ve got ideas…

Rotten Little Animals will soon be published in the German language by Voodoo Press in Austria. I’m pretty-well attributing this to RLA Day, because I was approached by the publishers just after that. So again, thank you. Because of your help, that rotten little book will make its way to Austria, Germany, and Switzerland. Anyone in France wanna publish a book? Thank you, everyone, for making Rotten Little Animals international.

Here’s what I know: I’ll sell those copies, and I’ll do it quickly. I know that because I know that what I see for my future is what my future will be. I know that what I set my mind to is what I will create. And I’m creating a bright future filled with fiction. And you’re helping me create it. Thank you!!

Thank you to my wife, Terri Plewa. She’s been the key to my keeping on the attracting track. It’s her who’s been the level-head of our relationship. She’s the one who gives me ideas and helps me accomplish them. Thanks, Terri, for coming up with all the brilliant things you do to help my book be successful. Thank you especially for this month of loving me, understanding me, helping me move forward, supporting me, standing right beside me, even through flying bullshit. Thank you for everything you do, and for getting me through this very long Dark Night. Anyone who’d like to advance through this life with grace and prosperity might want to pay some attention to the brilliance that shines from my friend and wife. She’s got some great gifts, and she’s sharing them with everyone.

Thank you to everyone this month who has helped me to grow. This means you, mean woman next door. You’re certainly one of my best friends in the universe. You got me out of my house these past ten days and I explored Nature and reconnected, and felt better than I have in years. I now know some new places to go, and I’m going to get my fly rod fixed, get a fishing license, and catch some rainbows. I found the greatest bed and breakfast. I got to work with my friend Breezy on her farm. I regained my power as the divine ruler of my universe. I found support in my family and strengthened our love, plus I got to hang out with them in the mountains. I watched as lessons were prepared for me. I learned them. Thank you. Thank you, woman next door, for being my adversary, and for reminding me that I love you deeply for it. Thank you for helping me to grow.

Thank you, April. I’ve had a great, great month. You make me excited for May. (Bizarro Bootcamp comin’ up!)

Thank you, everyone. You’ve gotten me far along on my journey to kickin’ ass all over the literary world. If you stick with me, I’ll take us all on a ride. Fifty more copies and I’m home free. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.

Thanks for reading!

Rotten Little Animals Day was a HUGE success! Thank you, everyone, for taking the time, money, and effort out of your day to help me out. I will always remember RLA Day as a huge showing of the support I have from all of you. I really, REALLY appreciate it. Thank YOU.

I don’t have an exact number on my sales yesterday, but I DO know that my sales rank reached an all-time low number. Out of the millions of books that Amazon carries, Rotten Little Animals reached 4200 in popularity. THAT is amazing. I woke up this morning, and it was still under 10,000. It’s at 12,000 right now. It’s usually in the hundreds of thousands. So it shows that we worked the algorithms right yesterday. Mission accomplished.

Word about Rotten Little Animals is spreading. THANK YOU. There are blog entries today about the book, and about promoting it online. Keep those coming, my friends.

The book has interest from all over the world right now. There are some interesting developments developing.

Please feel free to keep the momentum picking up. Tell people about the book, about the push, about ruling Amazon and making YOUR book rise through its ranks by doing the same sort of thing.

This is one shining success on my rise to cult author superstar status. I’m totally serious about continuing that rise, and totally serious about taking you all with me along that crazy trip. This is really just the beginning. There’s still zombie cat puppets running around here. There are questions unanswered. There are ties untied–like, what of Itsy’s brother?! There’s still ways to have fun with Rotten Little Animals. Still more things to do with it together, you and I. And then there shall be more…

THANK YOU all for making yesterday so successful. Thanks for coming with me.

And remember Bizarro Central for all your bizarro needs.

Thanks for reading!

It’s RLA Day! Look how happy that makes animals!

It’s the day to go to Amazon and get a copy of Rotten Little Animals! It’s the day that we appreciate all of our rotten little animals. Give them love, give them a treat, read them a book! Read them MY book! What better way to celebrate the day?

The serious goal of this day can be found in the previous entry.

I’m trying to shake up some algorithmic love for my book. I’m trying to skyrocket into super-fame. I’m trying to get a BOOK DEAL!

Please help me out, my friendly peeps.

And have a Rotten Little Day!

Hi! The following note is long. I understand that you may not want to read it all right away. So here’s the gist of it:

• Everything is great with Rotten Little Animals
• I’m halfway to my goal
• I need your help
• Thank you!

Dear Friends,

It’s been almost 6 months since the launch of my first book, ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS.  Most likely, if you are reading this, you have been a friend or a fan in some way, so THANK YOU. I greatly appreciate all the support, help, reviews, sales, and all the amazing people I have met through this experience. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

In the past six months, I’ve worked hard to promote ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS, and it’s really been making a difference. So far, I’ve sold over 100 copies on Amazon.com, roughly 40 more on my own, and a number of copies at different conventions. In the past year, I’ve attended Crypticon, BizarroCon, OryCon, and RadCon. Even more exciting is that people are LOVING it. I’ve gotten over 30 reviews at Amazon and rave reviews on my Rotten Little Puppet Show when people see it.

You may already know this, but ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS was published by Eraserhead Press as part of their New Bizarro Author Series. This series gives more new authors a chance to be published. Eraserhead wants to see how dedicated the new authors are, and if they can write books that sell and then actively sell those books. In order to be considered for a five-book deal with Eraserhead, one of the qualifications is that I need to sell a MINIMUM of 200 copies of ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Amazon.com in one year to prove I’ve got what it takes. With the current state of the publishing industry, becoming a cult sensation online, and specifically at Amazon, is one of the best ways to establish myself as an author.

As you can see, we are almost halfway through the year and I am about halfway to my goal of selling 200 copies on Amazon.com.

To kick off the second half of this year, I’m declaring April 5, 2010, ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS day. (No, I have absolutely no power to do this. I’m doing it anyway.) On April 5, 2010, ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS will be exactly 6 months old. With your help, I’d like to kick off the second half of the year in a big way, and hopefully easily and quickly make Eraserhead’s initial goal of 200 copies sold. You may ask, How can I help? If you do ask that, there are myriad ways that I’d greatly appreciate: 

1. If you haven’t already, buy the book on or around April 5th on Amazon.com. (If we can get a number of people purchasing it on the same day, the Amazon algorithms could help to push ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on to be advertised more by Amazon.)
2. If you already have a copy of the book, do you have weird friend(s) who might also enjoy a copy? You could purchase it for them or talk them into it.
3. Fan ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Facebook.
4. Invite your friends.
5. Share this note on Facebook, your blog, or anywhere.
6. Post a link to ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Amazon.com on your Facebook or Myspace page. Include a glowing review.
7. Review ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Amazon.com and post that review to your page.
8. Do you have your own blog? Include a review of ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on your blog, including the link to Amazon.com.
9. Do you have any contacts at radio shows, tv shows, or newspapers? I’d love to talk more about ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS and Bizarro in general in more venues. Hook me up.
10. Anything else you can think of to get the word out about my book is WIN!
11. Let me know what you’ve done so I can thank you personally.

It’s been a fabulous year of dreams coming true for me. Thank you so much for being here with me. But this is just the beginning. There’s still much to do in order for me to ensure my future as a professional author. I truly appreciate any and all help you can give.

THANK YOU!

 Have great days,

 Kevin Shamel

Author of ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS

Even when you write fiction, you can’t help but put some fact into your stories.

I’ve got a couple pieces of flash published online right now. Each of them has some truth to it.

The latest to hit the interwebz is, What Name Do I Give Her?  It’s at Every Day Fiction today. That’s the reason for that book cover up there about rock and roll gals. My story has one. It’s an experimental bit (I like to do that with flash) as far as style goes. See if you can tell what I mean. It’s got a lot of me in it, but not enough to make me completely crazy. Please feel free to leave a comment there, and click a star to vote. I like to show the literary folk there some bizarro fandom. Every bit of support helps.

Last week, The New Flesh published my story, Hunting J.K. It’s a joke! No one get mad at me. But even as such, it was inspired by my own little wizard wanna-be running around in a cape while I tried to write an entirely different story.

Two pieces of flash fiction in a couple of weeks, each with a rather large chunk of reality inside.

It must be some unconscious survival mechanism for my psyche. I do what I can to keep myself happy.

Like changing my hairstyle when I get the urge.

Thanks for reading!