Nowhere

Pulling the idea out of nowhere, I think a blogger is supposed to put all their promotional material at the end of the blog. Probably because by the end you, the reader, are supposed to be so enthralled by the brilliant writing and incredibly useful and timely information that you’ll buy whatever their selling or go wherever they want you to go with a smile on your face and your heart and wallet wide open. But what if you, the mightily intelligent and astute reader that you are, doesn’t (gasp!) read to the end? Not this blog, of course, but those other ones. You’d miss all the clever calls to action they got from a list touted on some other blog. What then? Think of all the opportunities and cleverness missed and/or wasted! To that end (wouldn’t want you to miss anything) – Go to. Click on. Buy! Jump! Buy! Share. Like! You’ll be amazed how much smarter, how psychologically stable and emotionally cleansed you’ll feel after you Buy!, and read these incredible (may be based on real persons) e-stories. And if you (deeply generous person that you are) share these links with others, why in no time, Overnight! you’ll have thousands of likes, friends, followers, money, happiness and success. I promise. You trust me, don’t you? So just to help you out, here are —- The first two stories in the Ancient Mariners Story series:AM Heartbreak final cover 2

Ancient Mariners serieshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/9146

 Heartbreak

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FNWB8LA

Smashwords – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/363624

Beth, 14, and Silas, 42, have lost their families to violence. Now, sailing together, they have found a home and a new family in Mexico. But Death has other plans for them – This is the first step on a journey to revenge that will set them free.AM First Kill cover

First Kill

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FP1Q6PM

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/364885

“I thought we were spared for the events fourteen days after my sixteenth birthday. When I killed my first man.” – Beth, 16. — Beth and Silas enjoy a beautiful tropical night aboard some new friends’ yacht. Until it goes bad and Beth has no choice but to make her – First Kill.

YOUNG BLOOD – An Accidental Vampire Serieshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/6017

 Young Blood cover

Smashwords-http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/362496

Young Blood is the third story (a 29,000 word novella) in the An Accidental Vampire series. 

In 1648 France, Simone Gireaux, a Young Blood vampire, is persuaded to help find the truth behind a Duchess’s murder.

Okay, got that out of way. You wouldn’t have wanted to miss that, right? Right? I’ll take that as a, “No. Of course I didn’t want to miss all that, even though there wasn’t much cleverness to it.” Now, where was I? You’re probably thinking – Nowhere. Ha.

Speaking of Nowhere, where is nowhere? Does it exist? Everything is somewhere relative to something. Even in space. You may be 2.68 parsecs from the planet Gigglbot surrounded by Dark Matter and nothingness, but you’re somewhere, even if you don’t know exactly where.

There is Limbo, which is, depending on the story you’re writing, either a dark void or, like in my sometime forthcoming novel Blood on the Water, a white room with no entrance, no exit, and no time that exists but doesn’t exist. It makes that old saw – “You can’t get there from here,” a true statement.

Maybe the only real Nowhere is in your mind?

“Where are you in your investigation?”

“Nowhere.”

“Where are the car keys you’ve been looking for for half an hour?”

“F&%$*@ing nowhere.”

“Hands on the wall, scumbag. Where do think you’re going?”

“Nowhere.”

Speaking of nowhere, Limbo, and space stations, Nowhere is where the occupants, vampire and mortal, of the space station Haven hope the Sunvamps who have taken over Earth think they are. Orbiting 400 miles over Earth is not nowhere, but, “Out of sight, out of mind,” works for the people of Haven – until it doesn’t.  — Down Home is a An Accidental Vampire Series novella waiting for a second draft.

Lost in limbo, consigned to oblivion, stuck, ennui, neither here nor there = Nowhere… unless… something out of your control happens and gives you hope that in your mind or physical being you can change nowhere, whether self-imposed or circumstance-imposed, to somewhere. (See Down Home)

“Can’t get there from here”  works the other way, too. Once you get to nowhere it can be hard to get back, mentally or physically. Physically, magic helps. Just ask Teresa of Blood Justice and Blood on the Water. Mentally, a goal to focus on can pull you out of your ennui and get you back on the road to SOMEWHERE. (See Down Home)

IDEAS

What If someone or something you wanted was trapped in Limbo, or the like, and the only way to get to them was by magic, but you didn’t happen to have a witch or sorcerer in your social circle?  Where would you go to find one to help you? Maybe that homeless guy who for some reason nobody messes with and never seems to get wet in the rain or cold in the winter and has that I-know-something-you-don’t look. Or that palmist in that little rundown house on the edge of town your friends swear is dead accurate? Or maybe there’s something in that old book your uncle everybody said was wizard (yeah, sure, ha ha) left you. And where would that journey lead you?

What If you were nowhere in your mind? Lost, confused, discombobulated, having done something BAD but now with nowhere to go and no way to get there? You were just walking, when – “Hands on the wall, scumbag. Where do think you’re going?” – “Nowhere.” – So they put you in jail (somewhere!) on suspicion of murdering somebody who needed murdering. But, of course the cops wouldn’t see it that way even though they agreed he/she should have been killed in as long and painful way as possible. Cops got to do their cop thing.  In the next cell is a strange person who calls him/her self a Journey Agent. This agent promises you a wonderful life journey if you do something for him/her.  Not caring, you agree. Maybe you do his task (that didn’t seem too bad) right away or maybe later. In any case you lead a wonderful life – great spouse, kids, house, job. If you haven’t done the task maybe it comes due. Maybe you have to choose between doing something bad or losing your family and happiness. Maybe you end up sacrificing your life and end up dying by lethal injection – it was all a dream. (Lame) Maybe you figure it out and find a workaround, do the task but live. (Better) Maybe you find the Journey Agent and…? (Best)

What If there really is a Middle of Nowhere, and it’s in the ocean a thousand miles from land (been there, missed it) and you sail right into it and find yourself in Nowhere Land an amazing  place of….

What If what happens in Nowheresvile stays in Nowheresville? Maybe you die and go to an alternative Vegas where the winner of the big Poker Game of Life gets to return to life and try again. Of course you’ll be playing for high stakes against people who will do anything to get back to Somewhere.

 So don’t be a nowhere man, be on http://dcburtonwriting.wordpress.com for links and excerpts of other books and stories.

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Hey, Gaia, how hot is it?

Maybe it should be, how hot will it get? Whether you deny the reality or accept the fact – it’s getting hot outside. And I know why. Well, we all know why, hydrocarbons, human inventiveness, cow farts, all that. But why is all that and more making the Earth hotter every year? Because we have an enemy whose sole aim is to destroy humanity.

The enemy is not aliens bent on making Earth uninhabitable for humans so they can move in because they need a new planet and Earth looks pretty good except for the 7 or 8 billion pesky humans running around taking up valuable real estate.  And  they already made their own planet hot and uninhabitable, and know how to do it so what chance do we have? No, not them.

Nor is it some supernatural entity who wants to make the surface of the Earth available for all demon kind who are tired of living down under. (Not you Australia, farther down) Of course, even among the average Joes and Janes of the supernatural entity masses there will be some who resist change (meaning they would have to accept logic and facts) no matter how good it might be for the people as a whole, or their descendants. Though some might think differently if the Greenhouse Gas oven we are building cooks the humans to a delectably putrid state. Yum. No, not them, either.

No, it’s Gaia (that’s the Earth in case you missed that day in your mythological geology class because you had to spend half the night before figuring out how to update your Facebook status from straight and sober to a loosey goosey high, and back)  herself. I have it on no particular authority that long ago Gaia recognized that humans would be bad for her so she put together a short (in geological time) plan. She knew, with the prescience of 5 million years experience,  that in a few thousand years even though the new hairy beasts only used two feet instead of four, they’d leave a BIG messy footprint.

So she created oil (you do not want to know where that really came from – zooplankton,  algae, dinosaurs, leaves and twigs? Oh please.) figuring they’d figure out how to burn the stuff irresponsibly, causing the atmosphere to heat to uninhabitable levels. Then, in a short 5000 years or so, they’d all die off from flooding, famine, heat stroke, wars for the few remaining resources, or high temperature viruses and bacteria;  or figure out how to leave the planet altogether. Either way, what does she care, peace and quiet at last.

IDEAS

What if you were an astronaut and were sent to Mars with the idea of moving all the remaining humans to that cool red land? There, you meet the God of Mars, Gaia’s younger brother who she tormented endlessly when they were young just forming planets. Mars realizes what you are planning and wants nothing to do with an invasion of immigrants. He also knows some of Gaia’s secrets and sees a payback opportunity. So you make a deal; Mars will spill his secrets and help you return Earth to a habitable state, if humans stay away. You, being a shrewd wheeler-dealer, negotiate the rights to develop one crater as a resort. What a deal. Except we all know what happens when you let a few humans in the door.

What if Gaia has a brain? And you find it while lost deep in a cavern. But the brain is under attack by a virus that had mutated due to the excessive heat on the surface, and even Gaia can not control it. If the brain dies, the power of Gaia dies and the Earth will spin apart destroying all. But, you are a doctor and you cure Gaia’s brain fever. You also convince her that some humans respect the Earth and deserve to live. Grateful, Gaia agrees, but a limited number only,  one billion, the rest must go. She gives you the power to choose. You must mark the areas – cities, states, countries, islands, continents  – for destruction, or all will be destroyed. How do you choose?  Who do you choose? Do you choose? Will absolute power corrupt you absolutely? Will humanity, a billion of them, anyway, be saved? Will you be seen as villain or hero?

No matter how crispy it gets outside, keep your cool and think about why it’s so hot. Then do something about it.

I’m hot under the collar, (or would be if I wore shirts with collars)those people put another of my stories up in their little contest. This is my first and final plea – Please vote for An Accidental Vampire at www.voteformyebook.com. It’s hot!

Fame? Me?

I know you all have been wondering – where’s that What If? blog that I love (well, tolerate) so well. I’ve been working (‘nough said about THAT) and writing. First a novella as a sequel to my An Accidental Vampire story then a short story as a bridge between the two stories so the second (well, third in the series) will work better time frame wise and vampire maturity wise. Whoever heard of a vampire amateur sleuth anyway? Simon Gireaux may be a New Blood, (remember that term, there’s a shameless promotion moment coming) and a former peasant farmwife in 1650 France, but that doesn’t mean she’s not sharp enough to help solve a murder.

New Blood, a short story now available at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/davidburton, (told ya it was coming) helps take Simone from New Blood status to Young Blood (the afore  mentioned novella coming late summer. Can you not wait?) where she might reasonably be expected to be of help solving a murder. Now, all this heavy-duty back and forth writing is all part of my plan to become rich and famous.

Now I’d rather be rich than famous, but usually (there are exceptions and  no, I don’t want to talk about it) as a writer you need to be a FAMOUS!!! author to be rich.  Of course being a famous writer isn’t like being a rock star or movie star. Sure, they make the big bucks but who needs paparazzi sticking a camera in your face when go to the 7-11 for the milk your personal assistant forgot to pick up because that bitch waitress at the restaurant where he went to pick up the seaweed salad which only they know to make the proper way was so rude, or the ones who lay in wait hoping to get a photo of you without at least a half hour’s worth of makeup, or the ones who lurk in the bushes at the back of your compound hoping for a naked picture of you (I hate that. Don’t you?). Sure they get hot girls and hunky guys throwing themselves  at their feet (or wherever), and they get to go to fancy shmancy parties and glitzy movie premiers, but then they have to spend hours getting all glammed up  and haven’t they heard that every picture taken on a red carpet takes a little bit of their soul? Who wants  that kind of fame?

My kind of fame is more likely to be where I’m working in a bare, fifth floor walk up cold-water flat, pounding out brilliant prose on an ancient computer run on power bootlegged from a garish neon sign for the sleazy strip joint next door where the Ls are all missing and so it flickers GIR S GIR S GIR S all night as Disco pulses out into the dim nighttime street, grabbing drunk and horny and lonely men by the crotch and dragging them in to watch slightly past-their-prime women  make promises they won’t keep and with the lights on you might not want them to. And if I nod off from a bit too much hair of the dog there’s the occasional flash from across the street of an alcoholic PI snapping shaky pics of overweight, middle age men being ridden by a bleach blonde with a cowboy hat and boots who’s never seen a cow in her life but knows a donkey when she sees one.

Sure the local denizens would know I was some kind of famous writer, but if I wasn’t buying the drinks, who gives a shit? All except the pretty bank teller in the branch office three blocks away on the edge of respectability where I went to cash my famous writer royalty checks. She has a loser boyfriend always urging her to spread the bank’s wealth his way, of course without any risk or effort by him. Her self-esteem is so low, for reasons she won’t tell, (but one can speculate) that she thinks she can’t do any better so eventually she will try something at the bank, get caught and sent to jail where she’ll discover true love, and self-esteem with a female prison guard and live happily ever after.  I do my bit when she asks why I come in when I could easily use electronic banking, and I say, “Just to see a little beauty in my day.”  She gives me an aw shucks you’re sweet and wouldn’t it be swell if my boyfriend disappeared look. And I might say, “Wouldn’t it.” Her bright, innocent eyes will fill with hope and promise as she says breathlessly,  “Do you think it could really happen?” And I’d just smile into their depths and start to think. “When you’re famous you can get away with anything,” I’d say. After all, what good is fame if you don’t use it to get you want?

IDEAS

See above.

What if you made a deal with the devil for fame and fortune? Been done, to be sure. But a modern-day update of The Devil and Daniel Webster is  always a possibility.

What if you already had all that fabled fame and fortune but got tired of the celebrity life and walked away from it. The fame, not the fortune. But, there was one paparazzo who wouldn’t give up and continued to stalk you even as you moved to the country or out of the country. He/she was convinced you made that deal and wanted to be there when the Devil came to collect his/her due. Despite repeated warnings, restraining orders, late night confrontations in the woods, and early morning visits with a baseball bat  to the stalker’s RV.  And maybe through all that, he does manage to witness your meeting with the Devil. But, because of all the things you’ve done to discourage the stalker and to any witnesses, you’ve inadvertently  become one of the Devil’s minions and instead of taking your soul he allows you to keep it, as long as you continue doing bad things to good and bad people, like that familiar man/woman with the camera who thinks he’s hidden in those bushes overlooking the crossroads.

What if you were sort of a genius scientist who wanted to be a wealthy  famous scientist famed for some popular civilization loved invention, but the credit for everything you did was stolen by your genius unethical boss scientist.  So you sneak into his private lab to find evidence of his thievery and you discover he’s working on a dimensional/wormhole portal to an advanced civilization but hasn’t been able to make it work. Being the genius you are, you figure it out and go through and find some amazing technology that will make your fame and fortune, and maybe you find a girl/guy who is sort of nice. But, you come back through and your boss catches you and you fight and think you killed him so you run back to the other dimension/planet/ civilization. There you find it’s really an evil dictatorship who’d love to find out how you got there and go conquer your world. With the help of your new loved one you escape and have to go to your former evil boss who is still alive and angry for help, ultimately destroying the portal machine. You and the boss make up and with some high-tech brought along by your  new love you become famous for saving Earth so that all can live happily ever after.  Or not.

What if you were a famous and powerful sorcerer/witch and, say, every month you held an audience and anybody, peasant to noble, could come an ask for you help. You listened to them all then picked the one that most intrigued/interested you. Not always the obvious choice. Let the humor, mayhem, drama ensue.

Fame, as more than one celebrity or wanna-be celebrity has found out, is a classic case of be careful what you wish for, you might get it. And if you do gain some fame I hope it’s for a talent or doing something useful. Being famous for being famous doesn’t count.

Please look for the short stories An Accidental Vampire and New Blood on Amazon.com, KOBO, Barnes and Noble, and other e-book outlets soon.

Destiny plus 6

A quick announcment: Hell Cop: Sneaker will be a free download on Amazon.com this Saturday and Sunday, March 31 and April 1. No fooling. Find it here. (It’s your Destiny. That sounds better than Fate, don’t you think?)

What’s your destiny, and do you even have one? And how can you tell? After all, no matter what you do, you can never know if it was of your own free will or just what Destiny, one of Dream’s  brothers in Neil Gamin’s Sandman graphic novel series, had written in one of his books.

Speaking of books and destiny – I recently finished the first draft of a short story that experienced an unplanned  growth spurt to 25000 words. Destiny made me do it. Maybe Destiny has the hots for beautiful French Accidental Vampires? Maybe it’s my destiny to become rich and famous by writing about Simone Gireaux’s first 350 years. I’ll never know until I try and you buy. (Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s the long hidden, for good reason, huckster in me.)

Coincidence or fate, can you ever know the truth and could you handle it if you did. Like, you can never know if that person you had a one night stand with and then slipped out before they woke up and then, with some trepidation, ran into a few days later but they were only pissed because they wanted to ask you out on a proper date and they did and you ended up happily/unhappily married to was only a coincidence or Destiny looking at his Big Book of You and pushing you here or there with his Unfickle Finger of Fixed Fate.

The only way that I can think of offhand to KNOW if you fucked up your life on your own or if it was written in some big blank book by a pothead with a trust fund, would be to die and ask St. Peter, if you go that way, or Joe Smith the ticket taker on Captain Charon’s Cross River Excursion pontoon boat for an appeal. It’s your right, after all. That way you get to review all the documents and videos pertaining to your life and you should be able to ascertain why it went so bad.  If it went good, keep your mouth shut and take the credit.

One reason to believe in Destiny is that you don’t have to take the blame if things go bad. “Oh come on. It’s not my fault I’m  lazy and carry a few extra pounds which BTW I can take off any time, and nothing good ever happened to me, and I still live in my parent’s basement and that stupid manager at the video store won’t give me a raise to $8.25 an hour so I can get my own place and go to school and get married to my high School girlfriend even though she lives in an oceanfront mansion with her husband and three kids. It’s destiny’s fault. I’m the victim here!”

I think we’re all born with a do-it-yourself Destiny Kit. All you have to do is read and follow the instructions, even if the ones giving you the instructions (presumably parents) didn’t follow them because they believed that Dream’s brother had already written their life so why bother. Bother, man! Maybe Destiny has an eraser.

IDEAS

What if Destiny really did have an eraser? What would his price be to change yours? You know there’s always a price for that sort of thing. But what is it? Maybe you’d have to seek out a Fate Broker. It’s his or her job to go to Destiny’s secluded secret library and negotiate with the head librarian. There’s usually a task involved in these things. If you achieve your task then you get what you want out of life. If not, you go back one step. Make sure you read the fine print.

What if you weren’t happy with the way your life turned out and then you died. You’d been beginning to believe in reincarnation lately and thinking maybe you should do something good for someone else for a change when you died. Then you’re standing in that never-ending Purgatorial line waiting to find out if you get the golden escalator up or that rattley, stinky service elevator down, when you see stuck in a crack in the rough stone wall a business card. You take it. It’s for an attorney who promises to handle an appeal/assessment/refund of your destiny. Hmmm? Eventually you come across a pay phone, but you have no dimes (Inflation hasn’t caught up down there, yet.) A guy behind you has a slug on a string. You have the number, he has the slug. You call, make an appointment for both of you. He/she is slick and slimy – Angel, Demon, Soul? – and makes you fill out stacks of bureaucraticly official red tape, jump through hoops, (literally) and find witnesses (far too many are already in Hell. Hmmm). Finally you get your professional assessment of your destiny, and you find… What?! Your attorney urges you to sue.

What if you worked for Destiny? You had to make sure that what he wrote, happened as he wrote it. So you go to Life on a job and… fall in love. We all know the crazy shit that makes people do.

So we do have a destiny. But you’ll never know whether it’s Dream’s brother’s fault or your own. So just in case it ain’t him, better get to it.

Please watch out for the new novella whose title I don’t know yet. It was Mentor, then A Novice Vampire to go with the orignal, An Accidental Vampire, but neither one is quite right. If you happen on a novella by me and it’s about a Young Blood French vampire named Simone Gireaux, that’ll be it.  Young Blood. Hmmm.

Destruction + six

Destruction is the brother of Dream in Neil Gamin’s legendary Sandman series of graphic novels.

Destruction means everything or nothing. It depends on what skewed  viewpoint you’re looking from. In the story I’m writing now, (not right this second, because I’m at a point where I know the grand scheme of the thing but am not sure of the details so I’m writing this instead hoping the details will come in a dream or some such thing that avoids my having to actually figure it out for myself) a sequel to An Accidental Vampire which is doing very well, thank you very much, on Smashwords.com and KOBO, it’s almost (there’s some sex and violence, too)all about certain people out to destroy a particular person.

So for the group, the destruction of the man is a good thing as it allows them to get what they want. For the man, not so good, as he’ll be dead, with no vampire to save him. On the other hand, The Novice Vampire, (the probable title) Simone Gireaux, besides attempting  to learn how to survive as a vamp, is trying to figure out who the group is and destroy them. Her viewpoint is just the opposite of the group. Like most things, destruction has two sides.

While “Destruction” is usually considered a bad thing, it isn’t always. Consider the Nazis, or polio or smallpox or disco. Nobody sane wants those undestructed.  Sure, destruction can bring tragedy with it, but if “Death” is considered a form of destruction,  imagine if nobody died. Where would we put all those immortals? (see IDEAS below.) What if everything ever built – every cheaply built tenement, outmoded factory, monument, vehicle –  was still standing, running, or lying around in trash heaps two hundred feet high. You could probably build a stairway to the stars with the beer cans alone.

Self-destruction, while mostly a preventable tragedy if someone was paying attention, could, under certain circumstances, also be called Death With Dignity if certain people would butt out and allow it to happen in the dignified manner it deserves.

In my upcoming (as soon as my novice French vampire sorts everything out) novel Ancient Mariners two characters and their old ways die, not voluntarily, to make way for the new ways.  And so it goes, old ways, old things, old buildings, and most times unfortunately,  old people, must destruct to make way for the new. Being new doesn’t mean being good. That’s how evolution works, everything gets a chance.  If it works, it survives. If it doesn’t, destruction will rain down on your head.

IDEAS

What if nobody died, but continued to be born? Where would they go? Up or down? The possibilities are, if not endless, multiple. Sub-plots abound!

Going down. Digging caves and mines into the ground, deeper and deeper. Who knows what we might find?  Underwater, deeper and farther from shore with all its dangers and dramas, human, creature or natural. Who gets to live where? Where would the prefered neighborhood be? What conflicts might come to the deep dark? What destruction might they inflict on those weird bastards in Bubble 34 or Tunnel 28? You know that would happen.

What if everyone wanted to live underwater or underground and after a century or two nobody lived on the surface to see aliens land, thinking it’s a pretty nice planet, so they move in. What happens when they discover each other? Who destroys who? You know they would try. Unless some other not so nice aliens came along and the two Earth residents had to band together to fight their mutual destruction.

Going up. Population pressure forces migration. Space is the place. What if our big plans to migrate off world were destroyed by Aliens who did not want such a violent species banging about the galaxy? They didn’t interfere with us in any way except we were under house arrest. How would that work out? Who would step up to make an attempt to bust the blockade? Governments, corporations, individuals? What slimy, traitor sons of a bitches would work with the Aliens in return for special favors, that may or may not be what they promise?

What if the above blockade could not be broken and the population swelled and swelled till finally it reached critical mass and all humans became one Earth mind, the Mind of Gaia, so powerful they could destruct the Alien ships. So powerful we didn’t need ships, we could move the Earth itself.  And go find their planet. What if, humans being humans, some wanted control and then some others wanted control and the factions started to duke it out and suddenly they were not working together and became stranded in the literal Middle of Nowhere and they’d better start working together because they were drifting into a star where they would of course be very deconstructed. A bad thing for Earth, a good thing for the Aliens who were surreptitiously helping things along.

What if you wanted to destroy someone’s marriage, but your natural charm, wit, beauty, sexiness or deviousness wasn’t working? Maybe you’d go see that psychic palm reader just on the outside edge of town who might say yes they can help if only you’d do one little favor for them. And in doing that little favor that didn’t really seem so much you quickly find that you have much more to worry about than the destruction of some nice people’s marriage.

What if you were a  well-meaning, in your own warped mind, Sorcerer and you could capture the souls of suicides with the thought of since they wanted, at the time, to die, they’d make good cannon fodder, bombers, henchmen, puppets if you put their souls into regular people in a position to do your dirty work for you. Might work out until a few of them decided they hadn’t really wanted to die and in order to live again they had to destroy you. The title, The Suicide Wars comes to mind.

Any story, especially movies, that blows a lot of shit up, is good.

Any psycho, pyro, manic who blows shit up for the purpose of the destruction of life, property, or ideals, is not good. And therefore worthy of destruction themselves.

Without destruction, what have we? Sometimes good, sometimes bad, Destruction, like time, marches on, clearing the way for the new yet soon-to-be-old, sometimes causing tragedy, sometimes relief, but always a story.

P.S.

Read an e-book week is coming up. I have some to offer. Check them out over on the right there.

P.P.S

I’m looking for a photo or design of some sort to use as a header for this blog. Something that will catch the eye and represent What If? Ideas welcome.

Delirium plus six

Ah, delirious Delirium, one of the Sandman’s sisters in the Sandman series of graphic novels.

DELIRIUM 1. A state of temporary mental confusion and clouded consciousness resulting from high fever, intoxication, and shock characterized by anxiety, tremors, hallucinations, delusions, and incoherence.  2. A state of uncontrolled excitement or emotion.

So says my ancient (1982) copy of The American Heritage Dictionary. For an updated definition on my birthday in 9 months you could send me a new dictionary. Just throwing that out there.

Who among us has not experienced delirium, especially that intoxication one. Who? Me? And people wonder why I don’t drink anymore.

There’s high and low delirium. High is when my novelette Hell Cop: Sneaker had 146 downloads in 3 days when it was free for the Kindle from Amazon. Now a 146 downloads is barely a drop in the proverbial 5 gallon bucket of the  e-book world. But 146 of something is better than a zillion of nothing. I was positively giddy as I stared at the report, counting along with the numbers.  Two, even three, an hour! Ah the delicious intoxicating delirium of low expectations met.

Low is now, as I try to write a sequel to my An Accidental Vampire story which is doing well (the next step up from barely a drop) as an e-story. Like the vampire it’s about, it’s kicking ass (mine) and searching for names (All those 17th Century French people weren’t named Smith? Who knew?) I have a good start and I know the ending, it’s all that stuff in the middle that’s giving me  an anxious, finger twisting,  typing incoherent, delirium of failure. I mean, how hard can it be for a Young Blood vamp to find the murderer of a Duchess?

Love is high Delirium. Or low depending on which end of the relationship you’re on. Are you at that point where you bump into things,  ignore your friends, and generally walk about in a daze of happy delirium with pictures of your sweet Honey Bun dancing in your head and you can’t wait to feel them in that intimate way unique to  you two of all people on Earth?

Or, are you in that low delirium state of having been dumped where you bump into things, ignore your friends  and generally walk about in a daze of sad, painful, disillusioned, angry delirium, and ripped up pictures of that lousy, lying, bitch/bastard beat against the inside of your skull, and the only thing you want to feel is either your hands around sweet Honey Bun’s neck or that whiskey burn in your throat, or the blissful nothing of head to pillow and the blankets pulled over your head?

Which ever level you’re at, wait, don’t do anything stupid, especially those of you in the high delirium state, and it will all be better in the (some future) morning. Unless your (temporary?) bout of delirium causes some nasty form of  Destruction, (next post)  in which case you’re screwed and you might as well settle into Despair (last post.)  Unless, Destiny, (next next post) should you choose to accept it, has something else in store for you.

IDEAS

What if somebody did you wrong (broke your heart, broke your bank, broke your psyche) and rendered you suicidal? You were about to martyr yourself to your sad delirium when you realized that the only action that would make life worth living would be to destroy (murder the bitch/bastard!) the person who wronged you. And you do, and you get caught. Can you claim self-defense? Compare and contrast the two obvious sides of the question in a gripping, can’t put it down, fictional form. Extra credit if it gets made into a movie.

What if you were in a blue funk delirium brought on by disappointment, failure, loss, humiliation or any of the thousand other things that might bring on such a state of Why me? or What now? And then, you saw the future. Not some daydream or hypnosis induced fantasy – The Real Thing. You were happy and successful and… and.. HAPPY. You had everything you wanted – except it came at the expense of someone you knew. A friend, a family member, maybe that nice man down the block who always said “Hi” and had returned your new puppy when it got lost. All you had to do was carry on as usual and you were gold and they were fools gold. They wouldn’t die or anything so severe, but as you went up, they went down. You could change it, but that big Happy wouldn’t happen. What would you do? Something? Nothing? Or try and finagle a compromise? What would make you happy?

I’m getting delirious trying to come up with ideas that haven’t been done a 100 times before, like going through strange adventures then finding out “It’s all a dream.” Or finding out the strange stuff was real and the surreal boredom you thought was your life is actually your delirium, a refuge from all the strangeness. Sort of a reverse Walter Mitty effect. Or a strange person touches you and you experience a time of incoherent hallucinations and when you wake up you’re some – body, where, time – else. Or when you wake up you’re part of an unrotten Alien Zombie undercover army bent on taking over the world one bite at a time. clichés like that.

So, enjoy, or at least accept, your delirium, embrace it, wrap yourself up in it, because you never know if it might be the highlight of your life. Just to leave you with a pleasant thought.

An historical delirium of Vampires awaits my attention. Until Destruction comes, don’t let any strangers bite you.