Monday, September 19, 2016

Shameless and Brilliant at once!

Who want's to read some really brilliant shit?

Well, me too, but you'll just have to settle for a clip of my own ramblings today, I'm afraid. In particular, I'm adding a quick piece of my first novel "The Screaming God" here. A small piece that I'm inordinately fond of for some reason. There's just something about rudely frustrating a lady  that pleases me to no end (just ask my wife, I'm an endless source of frustration for the poor woman!)

So why the clip? Well, once again I'm shamelessly asking all my family, friends, and readers (who, let's face it, are pretty much the same people at this point!) to "share" this post with all their family, friends, etc. in the hope that I'll someday become a famous author who can spend his days spinning more yarns like this one for your entertainment. So, if you wanna help a fat old man out . . .

Enjoy the clip!


I left, my newfound shadow trailing along behind me in silence. That did me just fine. The longer she kept her tongue still the happier I was gonna be. I made my way up through the Quarter, seeking out a particularly seedy dive I knew by the name of The Pig Bucket. Don’t ask how it got the name. Trust me on this one.
“Where are we going now?”
“We? Don’t know where you’re headed, but there’s a bottle of fine Irish whiskey in there with my name on it.” I gestured toward the door of The Pig as I stepped over one of its customers who’d managed to stagger into the street before collapsing in a puddle of his own vomit. She looked at the door and noticed –-for the first time-- the condition of the entire area we were in.
“Here?” Her words dripped scorn and disgust. “If this is all you can afford, maybe you should ask the Council for a raise!”
“Raises are always good, and if you’d care to recommend me for one, I’d be obliged. As far as The Pig goes, I drink here because I choose to, not because I have to. The whiskey’s not watered down, the musicians can carry a tune, the customers won’t slit your throat --if they know you-- and none of the whores will give you the itch! Well, almost none anyway,” I added, recalling Big Alice.
“I realize it’s not your type of tea-shop, but it does me fine. Tell ya what: you head on home now and have your servants pack your bags and I’ll meet you on the wharf in the morning. We sail at high tide, with or without Your Ambassador-ness!”
I left her standing there, jaw hanging open as I made my way into The Pig. She didn’t follow, so I assumed she’d taken my advice. To be quite honest, I really didn’t care. Within moments I’d settled into a friendly dice game, with a bottle in one hand and a nice, plump, bit of girl in the other. Soon enough, all thoughts of Chakar and the uptight wench I’d been saddled with had disappeared in a haze of whiskey and soft, willing, flesh.

Now, that is what being the Godslayer is all about!

JA Coppinger, all rights reserved

Friday, September 16, 2016

Murica! . . . and Monkeys

Some days I'm reminded of exactly why it is that I'm such a big fan of America (pronounced: MURICA!, for you feruners!) I guess that's no surprise, what with me being a soldier and all, but there are some things that we take for granted here, that other nations have to worry about on a daily basis. Take (for example) the extreme economic impact of the misunderstood, mammalian, misanthropic, monkey (no need for mammalian in that sentence, I just really dig alliteration!) Why am I concerned with monkeys? Well, apparently (in places what ain't MURICA!) they are capable of taking entire countries off the power grid. I shit you not: one monkey took out the power for an entire country! 

The thing that truly got me on this article was this quote: "The statement did not say whether the monkey survived." Really? Do we need to ask this? I'm betting the locals had monkey-kabob for lunch that day. If not, that is a mutant zombie monkey and we should all be scared silly!

My novel "First Hold" is moving along well. I didn't sleep well last night, so I got up around 4:30 a.m. and put a few writing hours in before work. Maybe I'll do more tonight but it's Friday, so my lazy ass probably won't. (beer and food beckon!) Have a good one, all!


Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Apparently, I've got a little murder in me!

Ok, as those of you who know me can attest, I love me some coffee. I mean, my wife and kid have known for years that if I don't get my a.m. coffee, then someone is likely to die.I always thought it was the coffee (or lack thereof) that brought out the ugly side of my nature (shut up - I'm pretending to have a lighter side, so just play along!) According to Austrian scientists, I'm apparently just a naturally homicidal maniac . . . who knew???
Coffee, Cup, Coffee Cup, Food, Eat, Caffeine, Cafe

On other fronts, I'm working on my next novel (entitled "First Hold" for those of you who care) and I'm finally getting good progress on it. I'm down to the last few chapters of a damn long novel. It's currently at 210,000 words, which is about an 800 page novel (yikes!) so far and I'll probably top it around 250,000 words. Of course, then I'll edit it down some but since I'm such a brilliant writer (feel free to laugh or puke here, as desired!), I can't imagine it needing more than a 10,000 word cut.

Of course, I'm also taking time to write these clever posts in the hope that my friends and followers share them on all their social media sites . . HINT, HINT!!! (Yes, I'm looking right at you!) If my failures to date have taught me anything, it's that I can't do this alone. In other words, I'm shamelessly begging, and " . . . I ain't got the kinda manners keeps me from doing so!" (One brownie point for anyone what can give me the movie title that reference is from, in the comments!)

Enjoy the day!


Monday, September 12, 2016

Fat Man, Weepin'!

It's an amazing thing, how fragile an ego can be.

What does it take to turn a hardcore, military man, into a pouting little tool? Apparently, if that guy is me, it only takes some minor disappointment to set me "Sobbin' like a little bitch with a skinned knee" (props to Kevin Smith there, yo!) And, as we all know, "There ain't nothin' worse than watchin' a fat man weep!" (Yup, that's a Double Dogma quote swipe, for those of you counting!)

So, what is it I speak of that has had me behaving like such a weenie? Why, the dismal sales of my first two novels, of course! Listen, I know I posted all that cool sounding crap like: not caring about the sales . . . how I just wanted to write for the sake of writing . . . how I was thrilled that even one person read my books, etc, etc,, ad nauseum.

What a complete crock of shit!!

I REALLY wanted them damn things to take off like Wiley Coyote with an Acme Rocket strapped to his ass! Let's face it, in order to sit down and write novels, you have to believe that everything you do is absolute genius. You have to have an ego the size of a small continent to think that made up crap out of your own subconscious is so incredible that hordes of people will throw money at you like drunks at a stripper convention. You gotta put up a front of such immense confidence that it seems like an impenetrable force field between you and a the negativity the world throws at you.

I just didn't know that force field was made of plastic wrap! Seriously . . . wow. My ego crawled back into the deep recesses of self loathing, buried deep inside my Id, and covered itself with piles of scorn (ya' know, just to keep warm down there in the dark!)

So, translating that into English: I stopped writing cuz the world was mean to me!!

Well, I apparently have a remarkable ability to lie to myself, because I'm back at my writing and I'm back to trying to promote my books with a whole slew of new tools, including an all new website design, more blog posts, a regular newsletter, and other marketing type stuff to try and get more folks to read my masterpieces! Of course, this is all assuming that the scotch tape I've used to patch up those holes in my Seran Wrap deflector field holds and I don't wind up whimpering  in a locked room with the shades pulled down and muttering to myself . . .

Meh. What the hell, it's only an ego right? Apparently, mine grows back!!

Hope y'all come along for another ride.