Joshua P. Simon - The Accidental Author

Sorry for missing the blog post on Friday. I was stuck in a car for 13.5 hours so I sort of have an excuse.

Anyway, I thought I would have this Music Monday focus on all things Christmas. So, below are various Christmas songs I like to think about during this time of year, some are serious, some are funny, and some are metal. \m/

Enjoy!

Before I get into the actual blog post itself, I want to preface what I’m about to say. When I talk about genre fiction, I’m referring to fantasy, science fiction, horror, mystery, thrillers, historical fiction, even romance and so on. I’m going to obviously exclude the genre of erotica since the entire premise of the genre is to write and read about the acts of sex.

Also, when I refer to ‘sex,’ I mean an actual scene where the reader can experience sex through the eyes of the characters.

This topic is pretty controversial among both readers and writers. Generally speaking, most individuals have strong opinions on the matter. Here are some of my thoughts:

Those who are proponents of sex scenes in their fiction make several points for their inclusion.
1. The scenes are fun! Sex scenes are like action scenes and help add excitement to the story.

2. Sex is a part of life. Pretty much everyone at some point will have sex so why not include it? Obviously, you wouldn’t have a sex scene in a children’s book. But in adult fiction, what’s the big deal? Are we to assume that the characters never have sex?

3. Sex is a great way to develop a character, both from a writer and reader’s viewpoint. Is the act mechanical or passionate? Do the people show affection to each other or treat it as a sense of duty? And so on. Many people will argue that sex is too important not to show how an individual would react to it in order to better understand that person.

Those who are against the use of sex scenes in their fiction make several points for their exclusion.
1. It makes people uncomfortable. Some people just don’t enjoy or feel comfortable reading about other people having sex whether imagined or not. Religious beliefs often play a key role here but I’ve heard several non-religious people make the same point. They argue that if they wanted to read about sex, they would just buy erotica, rather than the mystery (or other genre) they purchased.

2. Sex scenes are often written poorly and sound as though they are told through the eyes of a 13 year old deep in puberty. Some would argue that most sex scenes fail to actually resemble anything like the real thing. Therefore, why include something that comes across as ‘phony’ in your book if it serves little purpose?

3. Sex scenes are a cop-out and only used to sell books. Everything someone can learn about a character from a sex scene can also be learned through another life event. Therefore, the only reason to include the scene is to say you have one or to reach a certain type of audience.

I’m sure there are plenty more arguments for and against having sex in genre fiction but those are the ones I can immediately recall. I can see and understand both sides of the argument. However, I personally prefer not to have sex scenes in the books I read or write. As a reader, I often skim or skip over those passages (especially if they are overtly long or graphic). I know a lot of that has to do with my religious beliefs as such scenes personally make me feel uncomfortable. But, even before I committed myself to God, I remember being uninterested in and even bored by such passages. Again, they read like they were written by an overly excited teenage boy.

Now, does that mean that I think we should act like sex does not exist in fiction? No. In fact, there are two characters in my book, Rise and Fall, who have a sexual encounter. However, the actual act occurs ‘off-camera.’ The reader understands what happens since we see the events leading up to the moment and then see those characters reflect on the encounter and how they felt about what they did. I personally prefer this method of storytelling if sex is used in any capacity. We get the character development that people who want sex scenes clamor about without any of the uncomfortable feelings that comes with describing every detail.

So, what are your thoughts? Do sex scenes belong in genre fiction? Why or why not?

(If you comment, please be respectful and refrain from using any over the top language. Thanks.)

Sorry today’s post is late. After adopting our daughter last week, I find it easy to lose track of time. Ha!

Elvis was the first musician I ever REALLY got into. I can thank my grandmother for that as she played his records pretty regularly growing up. It wasn’t until I got to be a teenager that other artists/bands took the number one spot from him. However, Elvis is still very much in my top ten list and in my mind, is the best vocalist of all time in any genre or time period.

On Saturday, I played the 68 Comeback Special for my 2 year old. It made daddy proud to see him absolutely enthralled. He normally cannot sit still under any circumstances but he stayed on my lap without moving throughout the entire thing. The next day he woke up asking for Elvis and we watched it several more times with him just as interested.

Moral of the Story: You can never start your kids off too young on great music!

Here are a few of my personal favorites.

Peace in the Valley – Gospel or not, this is an amazing song and fits perfectly with Elvis’s voice.



One Night – One of my favorite songs by Elvis as I love the bluesy style. I would have loved it if he had recorded more blues based songs.



Ain’t that Loving You Baby – Just a fun, rarely heard song.



The Wonder of You – My favorite Elvis song. Unbelievable lyrics and powerfully sung.

Those who follow my blog regularly might remember a couple of book review posts I did awhile back for On Dark Paths and Strange World by Andrew Kincaid. Both are great short story horror collections that I would recommend to anyone who is a fan of the genre. Actually, I’d recommend them to anyone who likes to read a good story.

Anyway, I stay in touch with Andrew via Twitter and email and I asked him to post an excerpt for one of his stories to my blog. In turn, he allowed me to do the same on his blog. So, Andrew will be hosting a sample of my short story, Warleader, while you get to read a sample from one of his short stories from On Dark Paths.

Here’s Andrew:

Regulars to Joshua's blog might wonder what a guy like me - a horror author - is doing here.  After all, Joshua writes epic fantasy, which couldn't be more different right?  Well it turns out I'm something of a genre traitor - I like horror and fantasy. And it turns out Joshua is the same way, as he liked my stuff well enough to be willing to offer me a guest spot here.  So I won't wear out my welcome by rambling on any longer.  To the meat of the matter!

What follows is an excerpt from my first collection of horror stories, On Dark Paths.  It is called Beyond the Veil and it is the first of thirteen stories that, if I did my job right, make you keep the night light on. You know.  Just in case...

Reality as we know it is little more than a veil.  It's thin and porous as an eggshell; it doesn't take much for something from Outside to slip in via some unholy osmosis. 

I don't know who or what designed the world this way.  I once believed in a benevolent God.  Once, but no longer.

I think that if there is a God he is at best indifferent to his Creation.  At worst, he regards us much the same way a kid with a magnifying glass regards a line of ants on a sunny day. 

Do I sound crazy?  Maybe I do.  Maybe I am.  All I know is that not so very long ago I caught a glimpse of something mortal eyes weren't meant to see, something that shouldn't exist in any sane world.

The trouble started the night I met Mary.

I had just settled onto the couch that night after a long day slaving away at my cruddy retail job.  I had a six pack in hand and was looking forward to melting my brain with reality television, my guilty pleasure.  Funny thing that; half of the people on my shows were as brainless and petty as the people I was forced to deal with on a daily basis at my job.  You'd think I would have had enough of it during the day, but I tuned in every night anyway...

...and I'm rambling.  Probably because I don't want to recall the events that followed.  I wish I could have watched my shitty shows, drank myself stupid, and then woke up the next morning with a massive hangover.  I wish my life could have stayed normal, boring though it was.  That just wasn't in the cards I guess.

It was just getting good, one carrot-faced girl with huge boobs had another equally busty carrot face pinned to the ground because one had stolen the other's man, when there was a heavy pounding on my front door.

I had downed a couple by that time so the sound took awhile to register.  I sat and listened a moment, until there was another round of heavy pounding and a voice I'll never forget for the rest of my life.

"Please!  Please help me!"  A woman wailed.  Her voice was laced with a fear the like of which  I had never heard before.  If I don't let her in, she's going to die!  The thought flashed through my muddled brain and my buzz disappeared in an instant.  I all but ran to the door and threw it open.

A pitiful sight greeted my eyes, illuminated by the harsh orange glow of my porch light.  Once she might have been beautiful but that beauty had been stolen.  She stood stark naked, her body caked in filth and laced with angry red burns.  They seemed concentrated on her face, ruining what once must have been a lovely sight. 

"Jesus..." I said.  I gaped like an idiot, not quite knowing what to do. 

"Please.  Please let me in.  It's after me!"  She cried.  Primal fear strained her ruined features. Whoever this guy is (my mind couldn't conceive of anything besides a human that could inflict such wounds)  he must be a psycho, I thought. 

"Yeah all right.  Come on in." I said.  She rushed inside, practically bowling me over in her haste.  She slammed the door and locked both the door knob and the dead bolt.

"Are any windows open?  Do they lock?"  She all but screamed the questions.  I wondered what kind of crazy broad I had let into my house, but then from what I could read of her expression she wasn't crazy.  Terrified, but not crazy.

"Yes they're all locked."  I said.  The weather hadn't warmed enough to warrant opening windows yet, and besides I was never home and my house lay on the bad end of town.

"Check them."  She said. She busied herself doing just that to the window closest to the door.  I stood there gaping like an idiot for a moment.  She drew the blind and closed the curtains on the first window and then moved to the second.  I shrugged and decided to help.  Why not?  At least it might make her feel better.

It wasn't long before the operation was finished.  My house was a one story modular, little more than a glorified trailer, so there wasn't much to check. 

"What is your name, and what the hell is going on?"  I asked when we finished. I admit I was freaked out by that time.  Somewhere in the process of pulling curtains on all my windows I had convinced myself that I had let an escaped mental patient into my house.  Even so I dug out a blanket out of my closet and gave it to her so she could cover herself up.  I prodded her until she would finally sit on the couch.

"Water.  Please.  Could I have something to drink?" She asked.  She sounded so pitiful!  So I poured her a glass of water. She gulped it down as if she hadn't drank a drop in days.

"I honestly wish I knew what the hell was going on."  She said once she finished.  Her face relaxed as much as it could with her scars.  There was a lilting, musical quality to her voice.  I wondered if she'd been a singer before whatever had happened to her.

"What happened?" I asked.  I cracked open a can of beer and took a big gulp. The coolness spread into my guts.  I sighed contentedly.  Good ole beer.

"I don't know," she said, "I remember grocery shopping.  People were worried. They said something about us being attacked.  When I got home I was surprised to find my husband and kids had beat me there.  He said they had let all the teachers and students go early.  He had the news on and was watching with the really worried face I only saw on him when something terrible happened. The kids were really scared.  I remember my little boy asking if a plane was going to fall on us..."

Something clicked in my brain.

"Whoa.  Wait. You don't mean 9/11 do you?"  I stammered. My stomach roiled.  Bile surged up the back of my throat.  I washed it down with another gulp of beer. The whole situation was way too weird, and I didn't know the half of it yet.

"What?" She goggled at me like I had just flown in from Mars.

"9/11.  The September 11th terror attacks.  You know.  The World Trade Center." I said slowly.  No...this can't be real...I thought.

"Yes!  They were showing the Twin Towers on fire.  It was so terrible!  Hey.  What's wrong?"  She looked concerned, or at least as concerned as her ruined face allowed her to.

"This can't be...you mean you don't know?"  I blurted.  My gut did took to doing flip flops.  The room spun.

"Don't know what?" She asked.  Her eyes widened slightly, but her voice was level.  How could she be so calm?  Here she was running naked through a bad part of town at night, covered in scars and burns, and I was the one freaking out!  I forced myself to stifle the feverish giggle building in my throat.

"Mary, the attacks were ten years ago."  I finally managed.

Thunderstruck would be an understatement.  The glass dropped from her nerveless fingers and tumbled to the floor.  Her jaw gaped wide.

"That was....ten years ago?"  She spoke after several long moments of silence.

"Almost."  I said.  She slumped back into the couch, her eyes wide. I gulped down the last of my beer.  It didn't help.  I crumpled the can and tossed it aside.

"I've been there for ten years?"  She said almost to herself.  A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye and trailed lazily down her cheek.

"Been where?" 

"I..."  A soft scratch on the front door interrupted her.  She froze, and her eyes grew wild with fear.  The scratches grew more insistent.  They moved from the door to the front window, and then from that window to the next and so on until whatever it was made a circuit around the house. 

It scratched at the last window, the window to the left hand side of the door as you entered, and then the scratches stopped.  Deafening silence ensued in their wake.

"What was..." I said when my heart dislodged itself from my throat long enough for me to speak.

"Shhh..."  She hissed.  The scratching started again, this time more insistent.  It made another lap around the house.  After what seemed to be an eternity the scratching subsided.

When the silence lasted ten minutes, I whispered:

"What the hell was that?"

"The thing. The thing that took me!" She cried.

She launched into the most bizarre story I had ever heard.  Even to this day, even having seen what I've seen, I still have difficulty grasping that such a place could exist.  She told me in hushed tones that sometime on that day, so many years ago, she blacked out.  When she came to, blackness surrounded her. But the blackness had form and shape and sensation.  A slimy fog, her words, slithered over her like a million worms. It caked her flesh with filth and left her shivering.  While it was dark in that place, it was also light, like the dim light of a gibbous moon obscured by high clouds.

She noticed other people there.  She spoke only a little with them, but enough to realize there were people from all different backgrounds trapped there with her.  Some spoke no English. Some spoke English but in a dialect so far removed from the modern usage that she scarcely recognized it. 

She was there an interminable amount of time when suddenly the slimy fog took on a completely different character.  It oozed malevolence. 

The people around her became frightened.  Some screamed.  Some ran.  Still others huddled in the fetal position, rocking back and forth and babbling to themselves frantically.  The fog became a thing.  A thing of darkness and teeth and claws.  She wouldn't say anymore about it, and she didn't go into much detail about what happened next.  All she would say was that she'd received the first of her scars that day.

"You think I'm crazy?"  She said. She barked a laugh. 

"No! Well...yeah.  But can you blame me?"  I said.

"If you don't believe me how about you poke your head outside?"  She said.  She grinned a devilish grin, the effect amplified by the horrific scars.

"I'll pass." I said.  I shivered.  Her story was unbelievable, but to doubt her was to doubt my own ears.  And my own sanity.

"Whatever it was kept coming back every so often.  I don't know what it wanted.  I think it fed on us somehow; on our anger and pain and fear.  When it was....doing its thing...."  She shivered, "it shared some of itself with us.  I don't know how.  I think that was what kept us alive and sane enough for it to feed.  A few people, surprisingly few actually, did go insane.  When it was done with the rest of us, those people were gone."

"Jesus."  I said.  I crossed myself.  I had grown up Catholic but spent the bulk of my adult life ignoring that sort of thing.  Right then seemed the moment to find religion once again.

"I was wandering around after a feeding when I came across...I can't describe it other than to say it was a door," she said,  "But it wasn't a door like we would understand it.  It was a sort of ragged circle that looked like a pool of water.  And I could see street lights beyond it!  So I walked in and wound up in the middle of a street.  I could sense whatever it was coming behind me so I ran to the first house I saw with the porch light still lit.  And here I am."

"Jesus..."  I repeated the name like a mantra.  How is she so calm if what she's said is true? I wondered.

"Like I said whatever it was kept us sane so it could feed."  She replied.  I yelped, and my face turned hot.  I hadn't realized I had spoken out loud.  She grinned, and continued, "I actually don't remember a lot of what happened.  I...I remember the feelings.  Burning, pain, anger, and terror.  But it's like I was somehow disconnected from it.  Detached in some way.  So I guess that's why."

"So this....whatever it is..." I sputtered.  I couldn't believe it.  Part of me screamed that she was a lunatic.  But she seemed rational to me; more rational than I would have been in the same circumstances.

"...wants me back."  She finished my statement for me.

"But it can't operate a door?  Really?"

"When it was...feeding...." She said, shivering slightly, "It revealed a bit of itself to me.  I don't know if it was aware of that or not.  I know that it has to follow certain rules when it comes into our world.  And one rule is that it has to be invited into a home; it can't force its way in.  But I guess it takes open doors or windows as an invitation to come inside.  That's how it got me I think."

"That makes no sense."  I said, shaking my head. The part of me screaming she's a lunatic! started to look more appealing at that moment.

"I know it doesn't. " She said.  She started to rise, "Look.  I know you don't believe me at all.  Whatever this thing is it can only come out at night.  So at least let me stay here until morning and then I'll be out of your hair."

"I can't just leave you on your own like that.  You can stay here as long as you like."  I said. Crazy she might be, but  I wasn't the type of guy to neglect someone in need.  Especially a woman. 

"Thank you."  Gratitude rolled off her in waves and she smiled.  She sank back down onto the couch with a contented sigh.

As wild as her story was I half believed her.  At the very least I knew something horrible had  happened to her.  I briefly considered calling the police but rejected the notion pretty quickly.  They would have her locked up in a padded room within the hour if she started talking about her "slimy fog" and doorways again.  Part of me wishes I had called.  Maybe she would have been safe in a mental hospital. 

At least then she might still be with us.

Want more? Come on over and check me out at http://authorandrewkincaid.com/ where I talk about all kinds of weird and wonderful things.  You can check out On Dark Paths here and my second collection, Strange World, here. And keep an eye out fantasy fans, I also have a fantasy series in the works!

I'd like to thank Joshua for his hospitality, and you, dear reader, for giving me your time and attention. It's greatly appreciated :)

Sorry, I missed my normal Wednesday blog post. I’ve been a bit busy. Sunday night my family and I drove through the night to Chicago so we could be with our new baby daughter whom we adopted. Everything became official yesterday and we feel very blessed to have her part of our family. Her big brother is just as excited as mom and dad are! We’ll be hanging out in Chicago for the next couple of weeks until the paperwork gets processed. However, I should be back to posting my normal blog posts tomorrow. Yesterday was just too hectic.

Thanks for understanding!

Diamond Head is an early heavy metal often cited as major influences over some of the more popular acts to come after them. Diamond Head only released a few albums and although they’ve got some really solid material out there, the song Am I Evil? is what they are most known for. It’s also my favorite song by them and in my opinion, their version is the best.

Here’s the original.


Metallica’s version of the song


Several bands have written songs that are inspired by the song Am I Evil? by either borrowing/stealing riffs and vocal melodies from the original. Here’s two that immediately come to mind.

Danzig’s Am I Demon?


Megadeth’s When

Yesterday, Rise and Fall: Book One of the Blood and Tears Trilogy was officially released in ebook format for the low price of only $2.99. (at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords)

I also received the paperback proof in the mail yesterday. Here’s a picture of me opening it. (Big smile!)



I went through the copy last night and, after correcting only a few small formatting errors, uploaded the corrected information.

Today, the paperback is now available through Amazon for $14.95! (click here) This is a print-on-demand product and is 6 x 9 in size. The book is 402 pages in length.

In the past, some have asked me if ,as an author, I would make more off a paperback sale rather than an ebook sale. I understand the question since the paperback is so much higher in price. However, the answer is: they are about the same. The difference is minimal and in all actuality an ebook sale helps an author’s ranking on Amazon far more, which in turn increases visibility which increases sales which increases visibility which increases, etc.

Traditionally published authors with one of the big houses like TOR, usually receive a higher royalty percentage off ebooks over paperbacks as well since the fixed costs aren’t as high. Those fixed costs as well as Amazon’s markup is why there is such a large difference in price between the paperback and ebook price of Rise and Fall.

That being said, I encourage you to buy whatever your preferred format is. Although I recently started reading a ton of ebooks over the past year, I still purchase a large amount of paperbacks as well.

As before, the biggest thing I ask is to give the story a shot. If you like what you read, please leave me a comment below, shoot me an email at joshuapsimon.author@gmail.com, or leave me a review on the site where you purchased the book. I’d love to hear from you.

One last thing, don’t forget to spread the word.

Thanks!