While I’m not certain what I have to share is actually scary, I know that it does squick some people out. So a warning, this snippet involves dental chairs and tools, eyes being pried open and language.

From Happy Hour of the Damned (coming January 31st in mass market paperback–yay!!!)…

On the screen, Wendy had stopped struggling with her ropes. Her head hung down, the back of her skull even with her arched shoulders. She heaved occasionally, sobbing, I suspected. It was torturous to watch. I shut my eyes.
“No, no, no, lover. This next part is very important.”
I gargled dissent.
A clanking on the tray, and he drew a mechanism that looked like an eyelash curler. The tool had two flexible metal strips, attached to a pair of tong-like handles. Shane demonstrated that with a squeeze, the bands sprang into an oval shape. The sight of them blurred as he brought them closer to my left eye.
“Don’t move now. I’d hate to slice it open, eyes are quite messy and pop like grapes with even a minor pressure from something this sharp.” He squeezed the tongs lightly and they made an ominous, click-click, to accentuate his point. Shane was the worst kind of sadist, the cliché. He just had to describe the events, self-gratification barely hidden behind the wavy lip of a Peanuts character. I hope you never meet up with his type. The spank and nibble sadists are fun, occasionally, just to change things up. But this guy was totally out of control.
I howled with frustration and pain, as he pressed the slivers between my clenched lids and pried my eye open. I felt a horrible scraping inside the socket. I forced myself to look straight ahead, lest he get sloppy and blind me. The corners stretched to the point of tearing. I relaxed a bit for a second one, for fear of cutting my eye in the struggle.
With both hostile appendages adhered, I had no choice but to watch the screen. A person entered the dingy room. A woman, in a white shirt, black pants, draped in a green logo apron, one of Persephone’s Starbucks death goons, strode up to the chair, circled, and positioned herself behind Wendy.
She must be mortified, I thought. Wendy prefers the upper hand, in every situation. She’s in control, even when she follows my ass around. Her suggestions are always welcome, and appropriate for the situation. She’s my Betty Crocker Ho, and she was in trouble. I fought with the belts again. Every part of my body tense and probably compressing the empty honeycomb of blood vessels, collapsing them.
The barista wrapped her right arm around the top of Wendy’s head, pulling it backwards and lengthening the bound woman’s throat, exposing it to vulnerability. My mind dragged a memory from its fat trap. Hostage footage from Al Jazeera. Serrated knives and beheadings. I tried to shake my head as though cold, frozen, to vibrate my eyes and blur the image, disrupt my suspicion of where this was all leading.
The woman drew up her left hand and pointed a scraggy unmanicured nail, toward Wendy’s cheek. She continued until the nail was touching the hollow of a dimple. Then, she started scratching, slowly at first, lightly, a caress. The victim’s pail skin issued a deep purple hue and Wendy began to mouth the word ‘no,’ barely audible, over and over, like a chant.
The scratching became more direct, always at the same spot, until the already loose covering gave way and a gash lit into the dead cheek. The woman began to pick at the tear exposing grayed mealy muscle. She looked up at the camera, and instructed Wendy to do the same, which she did. I hoped she was drugged; her eyes were sanded with defeat.
Then, the unthinkable.
The torturer pinched onto the tear and slowly pulled at it, until it gave, releasing a long ribbon of skin from Wendy’s face. A scream echoed from the speaker as the ribbon, as if reaching the end of the Christmas roll, caught hold of some stronger attachment. The woman looked down at her work, wound the strip of skin around her finger and jerked it taught; it released with a further pull.

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Now go on and read some further Halloween snippets!

Anya Bast
Eliza Gayle
Juliana Stone
Michelle Pillow
Lauren Dane
Moira Rogers
TJ Michaels
Jody Wallace
Ashley Ladd
Kelly Maher
Shelli Stevens
Shelley Munro
Mandy Roth
Mark Henry
Savannah Foley

You ever notice how writers talk about the soundtracks to their books? Yeah? Me neither. Actually, I was lucky enough to include playlists inside my Amanda Feral books. Those songs that seemed to hit the right tone for the scene and so on.

Well, I’m not writing Amanda right now, but I am writing something (sh! It’s supa dupa sekrits). And it’s a bit softer, darker, and ethereal–that’s all you’re getting. I was lucky enough to recently sell a story set in the world of this new project into an anthology, so I’m really excited about it. But that’s beside the point. What really prompted this post is that I have the perfect song to play after the big opening scene. Over the opening titles, so to speak and here it is now…

Black Balloon by The Kills. Geniuses. Totally an earworm (for me at least).

Speaking of film…or video…or vlogging, I’m going to be at Bitten By Books on Friday chatting up anyone who’ll listen and giving away all sorts of crap while I upset the easily offendable. Won’t you join me? Go ahead and head over to the site and RSVP, that’ll give you 25 extra entries into the contest AND you get to see the all new promo vlog for the event! While you’re there, vote for the fave paranormal author of the year. I have a couple of suggestions, my buddies Richelle Mead and Michelle Rowen, just sayin’.

See you Friday and let the weather have its way with you (see? see?).

I’ve posted about our Halloween decorations over at The League of Reluctant Adults My first post in a long time, so go on over there and be anything but gentle.

Now I’m so exhausted, I think I need a nap, or a long bath with a good book.  In this case, Ann Aguirre’s BLUE DIABLO. I really want to kick my reading up a notch, I’m so slow lately, it’s bugging me. Of course, I’ve been sick too and that doesn’t help. Oh well, that book isn’t going to read itself.

Speaking of good books, did you all get a chance to pick up your weekly shopping list? 

If not, then here you go…

Holy crap, has it been three weeks since I’ve blogged? Twitter really is killing blogging, as a friend of mine (Leah Hodge) was so correct in pointing out.  So I feel like I need to catch up with y’all. What I’ve been doing, what you’ve been doing. All that shit. So I’ve come up with this handy little list (feel free to leave lists of your very own in the comments).

1. Writerin‘: The hyperviolent/uncomfortably sexy screenplay Mario Acevedo and I have been toiling over is finally in the hands of my agent for a read and possibly some notes. So our collective stomach is gurgling with the kind of horror that macerates beef faster than a kitchenaid grinder. You pray that they’ll love your deformed perverted babies, but they don’t always. *sob*

2. Watchin’ Movies: Got some free passes to see Zombieland, which was hilarious and awesome and brilliant (with the most amazing celebrity cameo since . And this past weekend we took in Pandorum with Caitlin and had a blast with that space horror shit. Loved both of them in surprising ways. Last night we managed to not slit our wrists while watching the Ian Curtis biopic Control. Depressing but well acted and beautifully shot. It’s Curtis’s fault the story will drag you down, but the musical bits are genius!

 

3. More Writerin’: I’ve started working on both ends of the genre fiction spectrum. I’m talking, of course, about YA AND erotica (and not YA erotica, which does not go over well with the carpool, afterschool activity set).  So I sold a couple of stories and one of them is YA from the same world as my novel that’s nearing completion. The problem is, the third Amanda book is–how shall I put this–naughtier than the other two and really created the need for a pseudonym so…now I have one. I’m going to hold off on revealing it just yet, though. Not sure why. Just, gonna.  The erotica project is looking like some HARDCORE fun though. I’ve never written something that was, at its core, a romance, so it’s exciting. I’m co-authoring on this one, so we’ll see what the other person thinks of the opening. Could be a complete bust, you never know. Or maybe it’s pants-stainingly sexy. We’ll see.

4. Gettin’ Interviewed: Sat down with Seattle Geekly for a little chat about zombies, psychotherapy and being a complete burnout. They’ve got an awesome podcast that you can subscribe to on iTunes or at their site. In this episode, you’ll also get to hear Cherie Priest detail her steampunkness!

I think that’s about it. My brain’s hurting from the effort of writing more than 140 characters (thanks twitter) and the only cure for that is some Californication!

What y’all up to?

I know. I know. It’s so rare that I’m actually blogging. It seems the more I twitter the less, I do anything else. Also, comments at LJ have dwindled to nothing and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is blogging there either. Is livejournal dying?

I’ll give you a moment to discuss and listen to my newest obsession/favorite song: Games for Days by Julian Plenti…

You probably recognize the sound and the front man as Paul Banks from Interpol. Julian Plenti is his side project and the album is genius, probably the best I’ve heard all year, atmospheric and grim.

Speaking of music, Caroline and I are hitting the road for Seattle tonight to consume street food and go to the Seattle stop of the Perez Hilton tour.

Huh?

You heard me. I don’t think he’ll actually be there, but if he is, I plan to sneer at him in mock disgust. What I’m excited about is Ladyhawke! No. Not just an awesome Michelle Pfeiffer 80s fantasy flick, Ladyhawke is a New Zealand band or a single person (as the case may be) with a touring band that is awesome. See for yourself…

Right? Right?

Anyways, that’s what I’m up to. How ’bout y’all?

I don’t know what y’all are doing this weekend, but I’m going to be up at the Museum of History and Industry for the 2009 Revenant Film Festival! Got myself a special guest invite, and by “special” I’m pretty sure Jenna and Geoff are planning some short bus shiz.

So I’ll be chatting about my unnatural love affair with the undead and hawking books and definitely checking out the zombie flicks from 4 – 11 PM this coming Saturday (click on the poster for the big rundown).

Speaking of zombies, I’m reading Jonathon Maberry’s Patient Zero right now and digging it (review forthcoming).  I didn’t get to meet Mr. Maberry at Dragon*Con, which was kind of a bummer, I’d have loved to have chatted about his take on zombie viruses and shit.  You know who else didn’t show, right?

George Romero.

I’ve been hearing mixed reactions about his newest Survival of the Dead, which is certainly better reception than Diary of the Dead got, so, I’ll have to give it a shot despite the fact that he crushed my zombie loving dreams in Atlanta.

That’s okay.

I’m used to disappointment. Alright. Back to work with you all!

I took a month-long break from Lauren Dane’s Snippet Saturday project to tear through some projects, but now I’m back and on it…sort of. Well, as “on it” as I can be at 7:00 on a Saturday morning.  This week is all about world building, which I kind of know stuff about–I should since I’ve taught classes on it, right?  So I think I’ll just throw up a few pieces and then talk a bit about them afterward. Sound good? Here we go (from Happy Hour of the Damned)…

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            Two blondes stuck to the ice bar like wet tongues, their hipbones jutting, as if in an attempt to escape their skin.  They ground their respective pelvises against a pair of horny ghouls, one of whom being only slightly more hideous than the other.  The girls were human and under some kind of trance, drunk, or just not at all particular.

            “Thank God for necrophilia,” I said.  “Those rotting corpses wouldn’t stand a chance of getting laid without it.

            Gil nodded, adding, “Here’s to celebrity blood donors.”  He raised his glass for the toast and took a deep slug of warm blood from the Riedel Syrah glass in his hand.  “This, for instance.”  Another swallow.   “…Is a lovely Square Pegs era Jami Gertz.  It’s Jami-licious.”

            “Sound’s yummy.”  Come to think of it, it probably was a good year.  Square Pegs was fabulous and Ms. Gertz’s Muffy Tepperman was a spot on caricature of the preppy bitch.  Brings back memories.

            Wendy arrived with flourish[1], tossing her purse into the booth and flopping down with a bounce.  “Cheers to mortuaries with fully-stocked cosmetic inventory.”  She spoke with the ease of indifference, as is apparently common among the dead.  She slathered crimson stained lips with a fresh coat of gloss.  Snapped a gold compact shut with a click like a castanet.

 

---

[1] Is there any other way?

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This piece is an example of worldbuilding at the micro-level. While I don’t explain the process of celebrity blood donation, clearly there is a system in place on some level.  Because my characters are apathetic of “how things work” they don’t question much, their world is about reactions not analysis.

Here’s another (from Happy Hour of the Damned)…

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             Convent empties its crowd into a hall resembling the Paris catacombs, its walls embedded with dusty vacant skulls and stacks of femurs, tibias and assorted ribs, each set cramped into wall crypts like a Japanese capsule hotel.  There was a low rattle in the bones, their reaction to the reverberation of darkwave music shouting from the speakers.  A macabre chandelier of antlers blazed overhead in faux candlelight, dried heads hung from it, horns pierced through eye sockets, mouths.  A cossacked concierge was embroiled in a conversation with a burly man whose neck shared its collar with hair tufts resembling a cravat.  A step closer and I could hear the topic—werebear hunting grounds.

            “You should try Les Toilettes.”  The grim attendant said.  He stood on a raised pulpit, surrounded by an intricately carved Victorian gothic rail.  He was referring to the club, not the john, but the advice was helpful either way.

****************************

Because the world in the Amanda Feral books is closed, or hidden from human awareness (but at the same time occurs within a large city), I decided to use interior spaces to create the fantasy world. Rather than tell the reader that the ghoul’s world only exists behind closed doors, I showed a variety of nightclubs and bizarre homes hidden in between the espresso shops and 7-Elevens. The tricky part was pricing the clubs out of the realm of possibility. The scale is either so over-the-top as to be financially impossible to construct or populated by such an odd mix of supernatural characters that the reader is consistently embedded in weirdness (if that makes any sense).

One more. This one introduces the reader to the fact that my protagonist and her friends are not “safe” (again from Happy Hour)…

****************************

The knock on the door was light, almost inaudible.

“Who is it?” I said, countering their hesitance with a conspiratorial whisper.

“Is this where we go for the – um – gang bang?”

Wendy nearly shook apart with laughter.  “Shut up.” I threw open the door and took in the view of the most pathetic creatures to cross my path in months.  “Steve” and “Lou” looked far more suited to the type of role-playing that was done over a game board with their wizard friends than the handcuffs and butt plugs shit they’d been promised, a real couple of blue-ballers.  These boys had definitely reached the crescendo of their lives.  It was never going to get any better than the idea of this moment, and isn’t it comforting to know that?

“Absolutely, this is the gang bang,” I whispered into one’s ear, an unfamiliar thickness of breath crawled out past my lips.  “Oops.”  If I crossed my eyes, I could see the change in temperature floating briefly between us, a pale white wisp of smoke, curled and hung, for a moment.  My mind drifted to another time, a small, enclosed space. 

I was not alone.

The boy’s eyes ballooned.  He gasped, slurping my solid breath from the air like a hit of linguine.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” I said.

“Huh?”  The boy’s teeth filled up half his face in an overly eager grin.  His eyes bounced from my face to my chest, to Wendy’s chest, to the sad bulge in his jeans.  “No, no.  It’s okay.  You can blow in my ear.”

“What’s up,” asked Wendy, disregarding the boys’ presence.  The fun had left.  Her face was slack with concern.

“The breath,” I told her. 

Wendy puzzled a look from me to “Lou” or “Steve” or whoever he was, back to me, and then to him she said, “You’re fucked.”  To me her eyes bulged, they beseeched, and seemed to say ‘eat quick, bitch!’

He turned to his friend, a question dangling.  In the time it took to move his head, Wendy pulled the other one into the room, slammed the door, and unhinged her jaw like a living Pez dispenser.  Her mouth opened with a slew of ratcheting clicks.  She shook and twitched with each transformative widening.  The boy’s face registered terror, for only the second before that shark mouth clamped down.  Wendy caught a stray spurt of blood ejecting from a large whole at the base of his neck, and moaned.   My boy’s head jerked back to look at me, and I took off half of his face, while pinching his windpipe closed.  He struggled for a moment and then went still.

******************************

There are three things going on here that stray from the standard mythos of zombies. One, obviously my zombies are sentient–well some of them are–and self conscious enough to do what it takes to cover up their corpse-iness. Two, the virus has mutated–to steal a line from Resident Evil–into a milky white cloud than can be expressed from the lungs. And finally, I decided to give these “speshul” zombies a little bit of a cartoonish attribute in their ability to open their mouths wide enough to snap off limbs, heads, all in one chomp. The idea of ratcheting jaw bones really stuck with me and I think that’s where that piece started.

Anyways. 

I didn’t plan on doing this like a worldbuilding course, mostly because I’m heading out to our State Fair today, but if you’ve got questions about the subject, I’d be happy to get you some answers. So feel free to leave them in the comments and I’ll get back to you later.

In the meantime, why not stop by the other Snippet Saturday author’s blogs and see what they’re up to!

Michelle Pillow
Kelly Maher
Jody Wallace
Jaci Burton
Elisabeth Naughton
Ashley Ladd
Moira Rogers
Taige Crenshaw
Lauren Dane
Victoria Janssen
Vivian Arend
TJ Michaels
Juliana Stone
Anya Bast
Lacey Savage
Eliza Gayle

I’m fully ensconced in a post con stupor–exhausted, dreamy, but ultimately content. Made some career decisions this weekend, stuff I won’t be talking about for a while, but I feel like I have some direction, got my projects lined up and ready to go. 

But, lest I get all serious…let’s get to the damn recap, shall we? Here it goes, in the form of a top ten list…

What’s Awesome About Dragon*Con!

1. People Who Go Out of Their Way to Make You Comfortable

Had a great time with Stacia Kane and her husband Stephen, whose new business site went live today (Lootslinger) so go check it out.  The couple graciously put up a murder of urban fantasy authors and others for the duration of Dragon*Con. Without them I certainly wouldn’t have been able to go, hotels were both at a premium and priced like it was the Olympics or something.

Stace is the consummate hostess and on Sunday night threw a dinner party for the League of Reluctant Adults and friends. If she offers up her slow roasted pork you take it, but don’t cut her potatoes, it’s a trick! She made this amazing peanut butter cake that I proceeded to eat every morning warmed up and now weigh 5 pounds more than when I left. Thanks Stace and Stephen!

2. The Dark Fantasy Track Peeps

Derek and Carol and Mike and Synde (one of my traveling buddies, as well) did an amazing job retaining their sanity amidst crowds in the tens of thousands.  Everything ran smooth as silk from my perspective and despite the panel room being stuck in the crooked bowel of the Hyatt, the attendance was great. Thanks Team Dark Fantasy!

3. The Ambiguously Gay Duo

On Saturday night, a big group of us took over a private room in the Hilton bar for dinner and overpriced drinks with names like Georgia Back Sweat and Stank Moss.  Conversation was saucy enough, but when Ace and Gary of Ambiguously Gay Duo fame swang by for a chat, things got dirty.

Urban Fantasy authors climbed over the table for photo ops. It was like someone yelled fire, no shit. Richelle Mead got the best shot, nipple tweaker that she is (if you’re not familiar with her famous fascination with men’s nipples, just ask her…or not, I could have made that up).

In fact, all the costumes were amazing. Lots of steampunk, Star wars and such but my favorites were the redneck fandom, who walked around in dirty feet and jean cut-offs, the Scully who looked exactly like Gillian Anderson and Sho Nuff, from that 80s wonder The Last Dragon. He was the “prettiest.”

4. The Manchu Mule

Undeniable The Drink of Dragoncon was the Manchu Mule. Stephen and I put it together on Thursday night and by Friday it was all we were drinking. Depending on your tolerance, it’s about a 1 part Grey Goose vodka to 2 parts Green Tea Ginger Ale and all parts delicious. 

5. Meeting Celebrity Types (or Vice Versa)

Got to meet and hang out with Charlaine Harris at Stace’s party, where she was promptly enlisted by our hostess into busting my balls! That’s right, fun was had at my expense. Don’t worry none. I’m a big boy, I can take it. *sneers* Mike Mignola of Hellboy fame and Christopher Golden were there as well but were surrounded so didn’t get to chat with them much. Nice guys though. Tagged along and played photographer for Richelle on her quest to nab a picture with pretend celebrity boyfriend Joe Flanigan from Stargate SG-1 (or something, I don’t watch so…he was safe from fanboyishness, but not snide hairdo comments), I tried to frame it so I could also get a shot of Charisma Carpenter but alas, too grainy. That patch of blonde behind Richelle is Julie Benz of Darla and Dexter fame.  Also, for Jeanne, here’s a shot of her very own pretend celeb boyfriend, James Marsters…

I thought I’d get to ten things but not so much. If you want to check out more pics head on over to my flickr stream and see ‘em.

All in all, great time, but tiring the con is so massive and there are so many people clogging the halls I began to feel a bit claustrophobic. And as long as I’m talking about sensations, I wasn’t too fond of the blasting humidity coming from the urinal vents, giving my balls a dewy coating just prior to my reading, which turned out awesome! I made the audience smoke cigarettes and touch themselves inappropriately with zombie finger puppets while I read. Well…to be fair, they probably would have done it anyway.

Got to hang with tons of friends, old and new and basically wore my tired sack of bones down to a wrinkly nub.

********

What else is new?

Not a whole lot, still working on the screenplay and some other writing stuff. I did see the cover of Battle of the Network Zombies, but it turns out it was the preliminary version and has been sent back for some changes so, I’m going to hold off on sharing for awhile.

Tonight at 4:30 Pacific time, 7:30 Eastern. Heather Osborn and I will be snarktweeting the last two episodes of Toddlers & Tiaras for your amusement. So sign up for twitter to take advantage of that foul mayhem and follow both of us!

@heatherosborn and @mark_henry

 

See you tonight!

So I’m sitting here, drinking coffee and listening to my favorite audiobook series, the new No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency book, Tea Time for the Traditionally Built. There’s something about the narrator’s voice (Lisette Lecat) that really draws me in, plus I love the quaint charm of Alexander McCall Smith’s Botswana. Love it. Anyways.

I spent the weekend finishing a short story for a friend’s anthology. I’m kind of in love with the story, my first venture into alien territory, and I’m not talking immigrants here, or maybe I am. It’s called Seafoam and we’ll see what the editor says. I hope she’s as enamored as I am (I also hope she digs perverts and tongues). *shrugs*

I’m getting really excited for Thursday. What’s Thursday, you ask? Well it’s Dragon*Con silly (with an asterisk, thank you). I’ll be hanging out with a murder of Leaguers and other paranormal types and doing tons of panels and such…also drinking heavily from my pink “Bitch” flask, but that’s beside the point, or maybe it is the point.

Here’s the rundown…

Little Deaths

The strange relationship between eroticism and horror. Elizabeth Donald, Graham Watkins, Michelle Belanger, John Everson, Stacia Kane, Mark Henry, Derek Tatum (mod) Fri 10:00 PM Montreal / Vancouver [H]

What Price Immortality?

Examines the trials and travails of immortality. Rosemary Laurey, Susan Sizemore, J F Lewis, Mark Henry, Richelle Mead, Allan Gilbreath, Carol Malcolm (mod) Sat 11:30 AM Montreal / Vancouver [H] 

Vampires vs. Zombies

Authors judge the pros and cons of the living dead. Elizabeth Donald, Philip Nutman, Jeanne C. Stein, J F Lewis, Mark Henry, Allan Gilbreath, Mari Mancusi, Mike Miller (mod) Sat 5:30 PM Montreal / Vancouver [H]

Son of Funny as Hell

The return of our humor in horror (or horror in humor) panel. Kevin J. Anderson, Todd Livingston, Scott Allie, Mark Henry, Jackie Kessler, Julie Kenner, Mike Miller (mod) Sun 4:00 PM Montreal / Vancouver [H]

You Can Still Rot in America!

A look at zombies – Dark Fantasy track style! Jonathan Maberry, Mark Henry Mon 2:30 PM Montreal / Vancouver [H]

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Also…

BATTLE OF THE NETWORK ZOMBIES

A First Look Reading Sun @ 5:30 p.m. Marietta [H]

Dragon*Autograph Session

Mon @ 1:00 p.m. M301 – M304 [M]

**********

Now, I’m assuming the little M’s and H’s stand for the Marriot and the Hyatt. I could be wrong, but I’m sure you’ll find me if you’re hunting.

I understand that not everybody can make it to my reading/signing for thoroughly filthy good times, so if you need something signed, feel free to hit me up after panels or in the hallways, but probably not in the bar, unless you’re buying, then hell, I’m a cheap date.

Who all’s going?

The winners of this week’s cover flats are…

Jessica Kennedy
Daelith
Hockeyvampiress
Jennifer Allen
Lori

Email me(at)markhenry(dot)us

NOT

mark(at)markhenry(dot)us that one will get you nowhere–and I’ll hook you up with the flat and somethin’ else swaggy.

Have a good weekend y’all.