Didst Thou Suck It: Fantasy and the Human Experience

(Someone is going to be pissed off by this.  Someone always is.)

I’ve got a friend named Carl.  As one of my friends, Carl’s jobs are mainly to listen to me talk about stupid things, complain about video games and give me advice.  As an adviser, Carl’s job is to scream “WRONG, WRONG, YOU’RE WRONG, YOU’RE SO WRONG, HOW DID YOU GET THIS JOB, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, I DON’T KNOW BUT YOU ARE SO DAMN WRONG, WRONG, WROOOOOOOOONG” except in a nice way and with more words.

So lately, being avid fans of both, we’ve been discussing Science Fiction and Fantasy (which largely boils down to me cursing a lot and Carl swearing to secrecy over what I’ve said) and this (para)phrase came up from my good friend:

The strength of science fiction has always been in…the exploration of fantastic ideas that are simply not conceivable in a realistic setting, but are too interconnected with the human experience to make it in fantasy.

I thought about this for awhile and liked the general idea of it.  Science Fiction allows us to look at social issues from a backward perspective.  The author offers a unique vision of the future (typically) that serves as commentary on the present.  The outcome of the author’s story offers his solution to the issues that face us in modern society by means of showing what we’ve done right (utopia) or done wrong (dystopia).  Basically, if we are at Point A, the author shows us how we reached (or will reach) Point Q.  The story, in part, follows Points B through P.

I like that idea.  Granted, it doesn’t apply to all of Science Fiction and some do it a lot better than others, but it was overall an idea I could get behind.  It was also an idea, Carl pointed out, that made Science Fiction more “tolerable” to the mainstream crowd (for the record, I don’t give a shit what the mainstream crowd thinks, but let’s roll with it for awhile).

But, a thought occurred.  He mentioned that Fantasy was inherently disconnected from the human experience.  This sort of thing didn’t settle well with me, providing one of those “you’re wrong, but I’m not sure why you’re wrong” moments that I’ve only now become able to put into words.

All books provide commentary on the human experience, through the writer and the audience’s perception of the writing.  This is how it is and what makes writing and reading a deeply personal experience.  There’s a little bit (or 2.5 metric craptons) of the author’s viewpoint in whatever he writes.  There’s some of the reader’s viewpoint in how he perceives this (yes, I know South Park might have said this in a more entertaining way, but let me finish).  All writing is connected to the human experience, it’s just generally been the perception that Fantasy, with its frequently and sometimes misinterpreted moral structures and social constructs, just doesn’t have as much to say on it as usual.

This might have been true at one point, when Fantasy was chiefly about the Good Humans Who Are Beautiful and Gorgeous Because They are Good and Good Because They Are Accepted By Society against the Bad Orcs Who Are Ugly and Live Underground Because They Are Evil (even this says something about the author’s experiences, as you can probably find in one of many, many online debates).

But we haven’t had that a lot lately.

We’ve had Orcs (or Orc-like things) and we’ve had Humans.  We’ve had Good and we’ve had Evil.  But we haven’t really seen that construct in awhile.  More often, it’s less about moral and more about motive these days.  It’s about why an Orc does what he does and why people think he’s Evil for it.  It’s about why the Humans are Good and whether they deserve that particular title.  It’s about what we see as Good, what we see as Evil and whether or not our definitions need to change.

And this is what Fantasy has to say.

It’s hard to comment on society as it is today and be able to reach people with it.  The stakes are too high and the lines are too firmly drawn.  We translate our opinions to who we are and to listen to disagreement to those opinions is to compromise what we are.  Sure, you might change minds (and, hopefully, you’ll change them because your arguments are sound and your evidence is clear), but a lot of the times, commentary on society as it is means you’re simply talking to people who already agree with you.

Basically, Fantasy has the potential to talk about society as it is somewhere else and provide the author with an outlet for it.  It’s not so much a discussion on what will be or what might be so much as it is a commentary on what’s going on and why it’s happening.  It’s a discussion of philosophies as they’re evolving, psychologies as they’re being formed and the reasons societies are rising as they do.

As loathsome as it is to speak his name, I’d cite Joe Abercrombie’s novel Best Served Cold as a good example of commentary.  Particularly, the character of Shivers (my personal favorite) serves as an excellent example of society’s pressure on the individual and how he chooses to react.

Here we have a man who is good at what he does: killing.  Here we have a man who is living in a time where killing is actually in high demand.  The conflict occurs when we have a man who actually doesn’t want to do much killing anymore but is constantly presented with the opportunity to do so.  Despite what people might say about Joe’s penchant for black endings, I think Shivers is actually a pretty good example of the optimism in people.  He’s a dude who is good at what he does in a time when what he does is not only socially acceptable but the chief means of social mobility amongst other people who only want him to do what he does best and by doing so he will get what he wants…but he doesn’t want to do that.

Is it a rebellion against fatalism?  Is it a discussion of how man reacts to society?  Is it a discussion of what man’s ultimate fate is when he tries to resist the natural path?  I got a pretty interesting conclusion out of it.  I can’t share it with you, since I don’t want to spoil it for you (so read the book.  Steal it if you can; he’s got enough money), but chances are you’ll come away with something very different than what I did.

And the setting by which we discuss this, Abercrombie’s world, means we can reach, in many ways, a more honest verdict than we could if we were discussing something else.

Am I reaching?  I might be.

Granted, not every story has as much to say on the matter as others might.  Granted, not every opinion is going to reach every ear and not everyone’s going to make the same conclusions as everyone else (or even the author).  But the same can be said of any other story.  This is what makes the story personal (which I already told you, you’ll recall).

But, if you’re not convinced, get five people to read a fantasy book (or steal Best Served Cold) and see what their opinions are.  Then wait a month.  Then make up a news story in which the same thing happens in whatever’s new and controversial in the news and see what happens.

I’m interested in seeing what everyone comes up with.

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Black Halo is Done

Yes.  Black Halo, second book in The Aeons’ Gate Trilogy, is done.  It has just returned from my outstanding editor, Lou Anders, with a glowing review and a death threat (the third one he’s sent me, I believe).  You can expect it roughly around March/April of 2011, be you American or British.  But you might be wondering: if it’s done, why so long until it comes out?  Well, there’s a few reasons for that.

See, authors have their own language, a language chiefly designed to throw angry editors and inquisitive readers off our trail.  In this particular language, the word “done” has several different meanings.  And while it might earn me the ire of my fellow authors to break this special code, I will translate a small portion of this language for you as we explore the various phases of done.

“It’s done” : “I know how everything fits.  What?  No, I haven’t written it yet.  I’m actually not even halfway.  But I know how it ends…unless it changes.  Anyway, I certainly know how everything happens…unless I get a better idea for it toward the end.  But trust me, it’s pretty much solid and will definitely meet the deadline unless I have to rewrite everything to make it fit this great scene that I know absolutely has to happen right the hell now.

“It’s done” : “Okay, I wrote everything down.  This is how it’s all going to work.  I’m extremely, 100% satisfied with how this whole thing turned out.  It’s great.  It’s fantastic.  It’s complete…now, to rewrite it.

“It’s done” : “Off to the editors!  I’m sure they’ll love it…unless they don’t.  Oh wait, it’s back.  They love it, except for this part.  That’s great.  That’s perfect.  Wait, that’s the part that took me three months to write.  Oh well.  As they say: ‘kill your babies.’  What?  What do you mean ‘who says that?’  EVERYONE says that.  It’s…it’s a writer thing that we say.  All the time.  Look, it’s not weird, it’s just a metaphor for not becoming so attached to a scene that you can’t bear to see it hacked to pieces and recrafted as some shambling abomination, pieced together from the souls of a thousand different scenes like some horrific golem of flesh and words, always crying out for death and decrying the belief of a merciful God that refuses to grant him any peace…what was I talking about?

“It’s DONE” : “After many fine, furious trips to the editors, the manuscript has returned as a lean, mean, fantasy genre machine.  It’s outstanding.  It’s incredible.  It’s proof positive that I’m in the right business, that I was meant to be a writer.  It’s…oh, hey, it’s back from the copy editor.  Let’s take a look…wait, I misspelled ‘ridiculous.’  Wait, how many times did I use the word ‘thunder?’  Holy shit, did I really describe a kiss as ‘two sharpeis straining to discover the function of a toothbrush?’  WHAT MADE ME THINK I COULD DO THIS?”

“And…it’s done” : “There.  It’s gone.  The cover is in.  The editing is done.  It’s out of my hands now.  Fly well, little book, and bring much suffering to my enemies.”

“I’m done” : Last two words the author shrieks over the phone to his editor before his bookie’s enforcers break down the door and snap his neck at his desk.  Typically followed by a call to the Gollancz Salvage Crew to go out and see if his brain can’t be preserved and later put in Joe Abercrombie’s body, as we did when Richard Morgan died…shit, that part was supposed to be a secret.

Anyway, Black Halo is currently at the third stage of that.  This week is all about getting edits done and sending it off.  Granted, my fate is in the publisher’s hands, but we might just see it released a little earlier if we get it done on time.

So, what can you expect from Black Halo?  I think a lot of people will be pleased with how it turned out.

Those people that loved Tome of the Undergates’ violence, characterization and fury will find it vastly improved in this series.  The combat is more intense and we go ever deeper into the minds and the secrets of the characters as their pasts return to them.  What do I mean by that?  Seven-foot tall, xenophobic, long-eared, green-skinned headhunters advise Kataria on her love life while quietly crunching on frogs that they believe will make their blood venomous.  Yeah.

Those people that had problems with Tome of the Undergates’ pacing and anger will also find a much smoother, much swifter experience in Black Halo. The action is more intense, yet paced evenly so that we’re rarely in the same scene for an overly long time.  I think a lot of people will enjoy this.

Anyway, keep an eye out for it!  Of course, this probably means more to you if you’re in the United Kingdom or Australia.  If you’re in America, you’re still waiting for Tome of the Undergates’ September release!  But trust me, the wait’s worth it on both counts.

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Slow News Day

Here.  Have an excerpt from my upcoming paranormal romance/urban fantasy book: Balls Deep: A Denise Asspuncher Mystery: The Chylde of the Nyte Chronicles Vol. XV.

Episode 22

The Clock Strikes MidFIGHT

“So, you’re a vampire?” Denise asked, the question wafting from her mouth on the acrid smoke of her cigar.

“No,” Irving snapped in reply.  “I just said I was a vampyre, with a ‘y.’  It’s, like, infinitely more badass than some regular vampire and–”  His sentence got caught up in a hacking cough as he recoiled from the smoke as though struck with a limp wrist in a suede glove.  “Oh, Jesus, your cancer stick keeps getting in my mouth.  I think…I think I’m going to puke.”

“If anyone’s gonna be a pussy around here, boy, it’s gonna be me,” she snarled.  She paused, grunting.  “I mean, it’s gonna be mine. Or…uh…it’s gonna have your pussy in…”  After a moment, she spat out the cigar entirely.  “Let’s do it.”

“Christ, lady, what’s with you?” he shrieked.  “I’m sixteen!”

“I thought all vampires–“

“Vampyres.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you used an ‘i.’  I heard you.”

“I thought you guys were all immortal!”

“Well, yeah, but we’re frozen in the age we were bitten.  Forever.  Do you even have HBO?”

Denise drew in a long, slow puff on her cigar as she considered him.  Upon her a closer inspection, she realized he did look decidedly youthful.  His cheeks were still the slim narrow of a youth’s, delicately white between each throbbing red pimple, perpetually on the verge of bursting and cursed to always bear a round white head turned ivory by moonlight.  His eyes still glistened with young naivete behind the thick lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses as they reflected the moonlight.  His teeth, fanged as they might have been, were perfectly straight, thanks largely in measure to the metal braces stapled to each ivory crown glistening in the moonlight.

And still, they shared a gasp, her for the sight of him and him for the drag he took off of his inhaler so he wouldn’t get an asthma attack and die when she spewed cigar smoke in her face.

“Well, look, I can appreciate that,” she said, “but what exactly are we supposed to do for the next forty pages?”

“I don’t know,” Irving said.  “Isn’t there some kind of…like, pixie ring or something to break up?  Or…or are we strictly vampyres and werewylfes?  Because if I had to be honest, I’dpffffthtfpfbgbbbtbhthhthtppffftt.”  He went into a sudden seizure of spitting before slurping up a long trail of saliva.  “Sorry.  A bug flew in my mouth.”

“That must be rough for a vampire, being descended from bats and all.”

“Well, technically, I’m descended from the South Asian Foxfaced Bat, so most of my diet consists of insects.  I was actually looking for roaches when you came in here.”

“Does that mean you have no interest in…this?”

She bared her throat to him and instantly felt his eyes go agog at the pulsating jugular, writhing with each quake of blood that was sent up through the arteries of her heart, sweeping through the gentle layer of cholesterol that rimed her ventricles, across the smoke-stained tissue of her interior veins, each circular blood vessel pumping in vivid crimson detail, pulsating in time with a heart that was going to give out from rich foods and alcoholism in about three weeks.  She would drop dead at her desk; the coroner would call it a stroke induced by her tight leather pants.  Her family would be there, including her brother who decided to drop out of Harvard Law and form a nu-punque band called “Bonobos Rampage” and her father would probably deck him good and she would have to rot in the ground, silent and dead and…

Editor’s note: What is…what are you even…

[Insert touching monologue about being a vampyre in society here]

Suddenly, the alley exploded in gunfire.  She saw shadowy shapes in the shadows, brewing in the gloom, the barrels of their guns lit like giant cigarettes being puffed on by impressionable A/V club members trying to impress that one chick with the raspy voice.

“Sergeant Asspuncher!” they cried, probably in unison.  “You and your tight pants are hereby deemed a menace to The Establishment!  Put on these jeans or you are SO DEAD!”

“OH GOD,” shrieked Irving.  “IT’S TIME TO RUN.”

“No,” Denise whispered, but she double-checked her watch, just to make sure.

Sure enough.

It was asspunching time.

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Voices of the Dead

I’m not a man that holds a grudge against someone for their opinion.  I don’t get upset if someone gets something out of Tome of the Undergates that I didn’t intend them to.  That’s part of the allure of writing.  I don’t get upset if someone doesn’t like the book, either; any piece of art is going to be subjective and not every piece is for everybody.  Criticism, too, can be useful to a writer.  Assuming it’s presented in a way that an author can actually look at without emotionally ripping himself apart, a lot of writers benefit from eloquent, exemplified discussions of where they can improve on.

This doesn’t apply exclusively to Tome of the Undergates, either.  A lot of writers improve greatly when their work is scrutinized.  When we have a problem is when the criticism is not helpful.  While browsing a few of my fellow authors’ critiques, I happened to notice a rather disturbing trend in the commentary.  Namely, that a lot of the criticism boiled down to the following statement:

“He’s not George R.R. Martin/Joe Abercrombie/Gene Wolfe/China Mieville.”

This sort of commentary got me thinking.  A standard complaint leveled against fantasy and its readers is that every book is the same: it’s the same story of good and evil, the same characters of hero and villain, the same format of questing for good times, the same result of saving the world.  This is a view I patently reject: as I discussed over at Pat’s Fantasy Hotlist last week, I think readers and authors alike have come to the point where we not only can accept different stories, we demand them.  As such, you’re quite unlike to read two fantasy stories that are like each other.  The genre has benefited from this.

At the same time, however, a different kind of demand has come up, and I think it’s not doing any of us a lick of good.

We compare authors all the time; hell, my publishers do it for me.  It’s the easiest way to summarize an author and to get another person interested in their book or to explain that said book just isn’t for them.  To say “Author A is like/similar/evokes feelings of Author B” is a fine and apt thing to say…so long as it stops there and is taken as no more than that: a suggestion that Author A might have a style similar to Author B.  Where the danger comes in is when this is taken too literally, when the major complaint becomes someone feeling betrayed because, no matter how alike they might seem, Author A is not Author B.

George R.R. Martin is a unique voice.  Mark Charan Newton is a unique voice.  Robin Hobb is a unique voice.  The same goes for Scott Lynch, Joe Abercrombie, Peter V. Brett, Brent Weeks and many, many more.  They can’t help but be unique voices; that’s why they’re authors.  If they weren’t unique, they’d be plagiarists.  And if their voices weren’t unique, they wouldn’t have found the success they have.  Sometimes, these voices don’t work for us.  That’s fine.  We should feel that the atmosphere of this particular readership is safe and accepting enough that we can say that freely.

What we shouldn’t be doing is treating the atmosphere like an episode of Highlander, in which there can be only one author and everyone who is not him is dirt.  Saying “this voice does not work for me” is fine.  Saying “this voice does not work for me because this is not Joe Abercrombie’s voice” is not.  That’s not a criticism.  That’s just unfair.  It’s unfair to an author because it’s basically saying that the only way he can succeed is if he’s someone entirely different.  It’s unfair to a curious reader because all it does is observe that said author is not someone he never claimed to be.  It’s unfair to the readership at large because it cultivates an air that is hostile to authors who are not as established and readers who are not following the established names.

And I’m not slamming the established authors or accusing their readers of being unfair.  George, Joe, Scott and China are established for a reason: they’re really, really good at what they do.  This is not a call to abandon one’s favorite authors and flock to unproven, untested authors out of fear of making someone else uncomfortable.  What this is is a reminder that these guys were also once unestablished, that these guys wouldn’t have gotten so far if they had “you’re not Gene Wolf/Raymond E. Feist/Glen Cook” crammed down their throats.

I’ve said before, and I steadfastly maintain, that fantasy is one of the most diverse genres out there.  We have reached a point where the only rule to the genre is “whatever the hell you feel.”  I don’t care what any literary critic or award panel says.  But while we might have come far enough that we encourage and demand new stories, I feel we’re not doing everything we can to encourage that which makes the stories actually work: the voices.

Again, this is not an attempt to declare the established authors as vile idols that must be toppled.  This is not an attempt to declare that new authors are without flaws and you should only say nice things about them.  If a voice doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.  That’s fine.

Sometimes a guy sucks.

But it’s a hell of a lot more handy if you can tell him he sucks on his own merits.

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Hype: Let’s Talk About It

Being a part of the actual publishing industry, as opposed to just a reader, has allowed me to hear some pretty interesting buzzwords since I began.  Chief among these, I think, is the idea of “hype.”

My good friend, Mark Charan Newton, just did a blog-post about this (here).  I thought I’d lend my own thoughts to the subject, since Mark despises me squatting on his property and has ever since I took up residence in a small shack in his backyard and accumulated a small following of woodland creatures.

Hype, at this point, is something I’m content to call an idea, rather than a buzzword, because the actual word carries weight now.  However, it seems that weight is heavy and dire, the word being uttered with the same morbid, agonized reluctance as one whispers the name of Lucifer.  It’s sort of a passive condemnation, at this point; if someone says the book is hyped, then there are a lot of people who will likely take that to mean that the book is somehow awful and promoted heavily because authors are evil people who want all your money.  The idea of “hype” seems to have joined the ranks of hooded men on covers and the word “gritty” in the pantheon of fantasy myths and bogeymen, a problem that needs to be confronted and destroyed.

…does it?  Seriously?

As Mark says in his blog: an author that no one talks about is a dead author.  We don’t really have a choice but to hype ourselves to at least some degree.  Our publishers follow suit, promoting us and forcing us to the front of bookstores.  But I have a problem with this explanation: it makes it sound like hyping or promoting is done reluctantly, as though we’re meekly shuffling into the corner of your eyes, muttering a hasty “sorry about this” and then proceeding to set off a fireworks display that forms glittery outlines of nude chicks fighting grizzly bears over copies of our books.  I don’t like this explanation.  I don’t like asking for forgiveness.

Even if they won’t admit it, I think every author likes hyping themselves.  And I think every author should like hyping themselves.  It’s indicative that they’re proud of their work and they think it’s worth your while, even if it turns out the book wasn’t for you.

I’m proud of Tome of the Undergates. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have sent it in to Gollancz.  Gollancz is proud of Tome of the Undergates. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have published it.  If I wasn’t proud of my work, I wouldn’t be an author because I’d never show anyone anything.

That’s not say that I’m going to claim that Tome of the Undergates is for everyone.  Books either work for people or they don’t.  I’m pleased to say that Tome works for a lot of people and I’m all the more proud of it for that fact.  That doesn’t mean I’m going to go recommending it to elderly women who prefer romance novels with chesty, headless vikings on the cover, though.  Not every book is for everybody.  I’m not about to go to fans of China Mieville, noted shark-tamer, and say that Tome is exactly what they’re looking for.  But if one of them asks me about my book, I’m not going to tell them that it’s shit and hope they buy it because I’m just a humble guy.

This might sound arrogant to a few people, but why should it?  Pride in one’s work doesn’t necessarily constitute arrogance.  Now, if I happen to tell you I’m superior to you due to the fact that I can flawlessly impersonate Richard Nixon, you can call me out on my hubris.  But if you’re willing to do that to an American president, prepare for a bit of ol’ Dick.

And that’s not to say I’m calling people out for being wary of hype.  But here’s the thing: at the end of the day, the book will either work for you or it won’t.  Avoiding it because it doesn’t sound right for you is one thing.  Avoiding it because you read a bit and it didn’t grab you is also pretty valid.  But avoiding it because someone said you might like it?

Buddy.

Buddy.

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Comicon Write-Up: Sam Sykes Makes New Friends and New Foes

I make no secret about my relative inexperience in this industry.  Despite the fact that I grow a beard, which is usually indicative of experience or a guy who hauls off black garbage bags to the dump at 3:30 in the morning, conventions are kind of a new thing for me.  It’s always a little intimidating, going to speak at panels with authors who have no idea who you are and audiences who may not even care.  Thusly, I was a little nervous when I headed to Phoenix Comicon.

But I’m really glad I went.

To be fair, most of the authors there hadn’t heard of me (though I hadn’t heard of them, either, until just now), but I was really pleased to have made the acquaintances that I did.  Chief among these was one Leanna Renee Hieber, who was on absolutely every panel I was, from Subgenres to How to Make it as an Author.  Not only was she on them, she basically dominated them.  The woman positively oozes wisdom, experience and advice, as well as a strange, sticky substance that I was warned by the staff to never, ever inquire after (as far as all parties are concerned, it’s jam.  Delicious jam).  Foolishly, I stationed myself in a position where I would always answer a question before her and think I had basically summarized the subject quite succinctly.  This temporary high was relentlessly mutilated by Leanna’s answer, which invariably bent mine over and sodomized it with a really crucial point that I had never actually considered.  For all the sodomy and violence, though, Ms. Hieber was relentlessly nice and we wound up gabbing quite a bit and even exchanged books.  At a glance, Ms. Hieber has one of the most eloquent and lovely voices I’ve ever read and I wholeheartedly encourage you to give her stuff a try.

What?  That’s not enough for you?  Well, how about this lovely quote she gave me for my next book (ask her for the context):

Sam Sykes: One step behind a prostitute.

Someone who needs no encouragement from me, however, is John Scalzi (or “John FUCKING Scalzi”, as one of my friends said, upon hearing who I was paneling with).  This dude has been around for awhile, both online and in print, and he basically has set the tone for author online presences for years now.  I had the great misfortune of sitting next to him at the signing booth.  And let me tell you, friends…all those rumors about him being eloquent, charming and knowledgeable?  Well…yeah, those are true.  What no one tells you, though, that he is also quite aggressive and gluttonous.  Yes, it’s true.  He sat next to me on his lunch hour and, after leaning close to my ear and noisily devouring his sandwich (while making certain to show me the contents of his “See Food” at every opportunity), had the gall to eat his cool ranch Doritos and wipe his filthy, orange fingers upon my nice green shirt.  But Scalzi’s clout held no weight in the Court of Sykes (fact: “the Court of Sykes” counts as the immediate ten feet around me, fifteen if I’m wearing boots, and follows no law except the Law of Sykes and the Law of Bangkok) and I quickly retaliated.  In great, gracious defeat, Mr. Scalzi honorably chronicled the event here. You can also access his under-read and amateurish blog there.  In all honesty, though, he is a very cool guy and I was thrilled to have met him.

But probably the chief highlight of the Con, and probably my new favorite person in the world, was one James A. Owen, author of The Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica. Ever since having the distinct pleasure of serving on a panel with him at LepreCon, there has been no author who has done more for me than Mr. Owen.  He’s been a font of wisdom and experience to me, probably one of the friendliest and most welcoming people I’ve ever met.  But the best part about it?  I’m not that special in that regard.  He does this for everybody. Seriously, I was astonished at how willing he was to please the seemingly-endless flocks of people who came seeking him out (including Jonathan fucking Frakes).  No one else puts more time and energy into his fans and no one else seems more happy to do it, except for his equally awesome brother, Jeremy.  Just probably an all-around stand-up dude who does every single kindness for everybody.

Okay, maybe not everybody…

To those who are a little confused by my above gushing, please rest assured that James extended a particular kindness to me that is the main reason he was bumped up to the top of my will (he gets my truck and my vast collection of wax likenesses of politicians; except for Chester A. Arthur.  That dude gets buried with me).  You see, there was a Geek Prom at Comicon, a fun little dance party for all the good people at Comicon that went to benefit the very fine charity Kids Need to Read (I highly encourage you to check it out).  Regrettably, I wasn’t able to buy a ticket in time, but James, with a wave of his mighty, hairless hand, commanded the doors open for me.  This was pretty good in and of itself, but then James went one step beyond and, after judging a nerd costume contest with a lot of cool entries, came down from the stage with a tiny little creature following him and said unto me:

“Hey, Sam!  Have you met Felicia?”

Yes.

He introduced me to Felicia Day.

I can’t even fit the word “fucking” in there, it was so awesome.  She is an amazingly cool person who shot me a nice smile and said:

“So, you’re an author?”

And I shot back a wide, ugly grin and replied:

“Uh fuh buh buh uh duh flbbbbbbbbbttttt.”

Leanna assures me that this is a common reaction.

Anyway, we could talk about my awkward conversation all day (and I’m pretty sure Scalzi, upon hearing this, will, since he thinks he’s so goddamn cool), but the jist of it is that Ms. Day asked me for a copy of Tome and I eagerly obliged, with more than a few “uh buh buh”‘s to accompany it.  She, in exchange, gave me a signed picture of herself, which I will eagerly share with you once I figure out how to upload stuff from my blackberry.

So, anyway, James A. Owen has the distinct regard of not only being one of the coolest, nicest, most welcoming authors I’ve ever talked to, but also being the only guy who can say they introduced me to Felicia Day…and Wil Wheaton, too, but I think that dude hates me (it is rumored he can smell sin).

What?  Oh, yeah.  His first book, Here There Be Dragons, is also really good.  Seriously.  This guy may be the literary equivalent of Superman…except he wears his briefs on the inside…or so I’m told.

Anyway, it was a delightful con (probably moreso for me than a lot of others) and I wholeheartedly encourage you, you jerk, to go next year, when I’ll actually be published and be able to hold that over Scalzi’s head (fortunately, I’m taller than he is, so he can’t hold his many more and much better-selling books over mine, oh ho ho).

Other authors that I should mention as being amazingly cool, but having the misfortune of coming into a blog post that is already going on too long are J.S. Lewis, Kris Neri and Aprilynne Pike (who is the sole author kind enough to tell me she hates me to my face, in a very kind and loving way).

Comicon Write-Up: Sam Sykes Makes New Friends and New Foes Read More »

C-C-C-Comicon!

Yes, that’s right, friends.  Comicon is nearly upon us and–

What’s that?  No, this isn’t the San Diego one.  This is the one in–

What?  No, not the New York one, either.  It’s in Phoenix.

…well, of course Phoenix has a Comicon!  We’re a big state and–

Yes, Arizona is a real state!  Who told you otherwise?  Well, don’t you listen to that son of a bitch anymore.

Anyway, shut your fat face for a moment and let me tell you how it’s going to go down.

First of all, you should check the Phoenix Comicon Website and see who’s coming!  We’ve got a lot of good ones, such as Stan Lee, Felicia Day and James Marsters, famed for his role in the live action adaptation of Dragonball Z (people tell me I shouldn’t antagonize Buffy fans, but I live dangerously).  Anyway, you can see what they’re all doing on the site.  I can’t really tell you anything about that, since my attempts at stalking them have thus far ended in three different restraining orders (which is going to make this con a little difficult to navigate).

But, since this is the Sam Sykes Show, presumably you’re here to learn what I’ll be doing this whole time.  Now that I can tell you, since I have reached the point where someone thought I was important enough to be told what I’m doing (fun fact: the author is always the last to know what’s going on in his life).

But let me tell you.

Friday, 3:00-4:00 PM: Urban Fantasy, Steampunk, Mashups and More!

This will be a discussion of the various subgenres of fantasy, with myself reppin’ the oft-maligned “epic” version.  I’m not sure whose reppin’ what else, but if the covers of their books are any indication, I would expect whoever is wearing the tight pants and sporting the back tattoo is the Urban Fantasy spokesperson and the Steampunk expert will probably have gigantic goggles.  As for me and my epicness?  I’ll be wearing a hood.  Come see me, Leanna Renee Heiber, Aprilynne Pike, Kris Neri and J.S. Lewis!

Saturday, 3:00-4:00 PM: Beyond the Vampire and Werewolf

This is basically going to be a workshop on how we utilize various mythical creatures in our writing, giving them those subtle tweaks and ticks to make them our own.  This one I’m actually quite looking forward to, as I’ve been accused of finding inspiration for the Abysmyths in every source from Lovecraft to love of crack.  Hopefully, this will clear things up for a lot of people, including myself!  See it with me, Leanne Renee Heiber and Kris Neri.

Sunday, 10:30-11:30 AM: Sci-Fi Social Media

This one is going to be fucking huge, I can tell.  If you can’t make it, let me spoil something for you: there is no way to become a successful author without an internet presence to at least some degree.  The world has changed to the point where attention spans are short and the breadth of things to discover are long, hence making self-promotion more important than ever.  But we’ll go in depth with it with me, Jack Mangan, Michael Stackpole, Aprilynne Pike, Leanee Renee Heiber and John Motherfucking Scalzi.

Sunday, 12:00-1:00 PM: You’ve sold your first novel, now what?

I might actually have something to say on this one (I intend to put a very realistic wax figurine in my place at the other panels to disguise my natural quiescence), since I actually have a novel.  It’ll be neat talking about breaking into the industry, breaking into the reviews and breaking into the reviewers’ houses!  This one features me, Jeff Mariotte, Aprilynne Pike, Leanne Renee Heiber and my wax dummy.

There might be some signings.  If there is, I’ll be sure to tell you.  If not and you want something signed, just seek me right the fuck out!  You can recognize me because I will be the guy who is taller than Mark Newton.  I’ll sign all things: books, breasts, wives and maybe dead relatives!  You can still get stuff from The Poisoned Pen or wherever the fuck you want to!

Be sure to see me there or die!

C-C-C-Comicon! Read More »

LepreCon Report!

A number of you might recall me mentioning appearing at LepreCon this past week.

A greater number of you might recall me raving wildly about my appearing at LepreCon and begging you over a tear-stained copy of Tome of the Undergates to come listen to me and validate my existence.

And a select few of you might possess memories born in half-dream stupors of me standing over you while you slept, gently stroking your hair while whispering private poems in broken Russian.

They are the luckiest of all…assuming they continue not to press charges.

Anyway, I am pleased to report that LepreCon was an immense success.  Organized by the fine Lee Whiteside, and attended by such creatures of myth as George R.R. Martin, it provided fertile ground for a meeting of minds and a spewing of stuff that I desperately hoped people thought I knew enough to talk about.

Despite my earlier travesties at EasterCon, I consider LepreCon to be my very first panel ever, since I actually got to talk about writing (which I know a fair deal about) at this one.  I am pleased to report that most people seemed to think that my oratory went over quite well.  Barely anyone suspected I was a fraud, and those that did suspected things on a highly personal level, rather than a professional one.  I gave panels on Pacing (with Melinda Snodgrass) and on the Perils of Writing Epic Fantasy (with George himself and Mr. James A. Owen, whom I highly recommend you check out right now).  It was a delight to do so and I was amazed that I was able to keep myself from throwing myself over the table and into the audience.  I was so amazed that I threw myself at an elderly guest at the hotel who is now in a coma, he was so amazed.

Equally amazing was my first book-signing.  Yes!  I told you Tome of the Undergates would be on sale at LepreCon!  But you didn’t believe me!  Well, you look pretty stupid now, don’t you?  Sitting there with your Tome-less hands, wondering what all the people with copies are talking about as they whisper between each other and occasionally glance in your direction.

They’re talking about you.

And how much they hate you.

But it’s not too late!  You can still get yerself a copy, as I’ve been informed that Goldsboro books is getting a HEAP O’ COPIES, all signed and secreted upon by myself!  And, if you’re in the US, you can still get them at The Poisoned Pen (or wait until Pyr publishes them in September!)

In addition, the good people at the Poisoned Pen made me a cake out of the cover of Tome of the Undergates! I will endeavor to get you a picture as soon as I can.  Now, I must inform you that George has not yet read my book (though he professes to be eager to), he is a busy man, after all.  Of the cake, though, he had this to say:

Sam Sykes’ book is creamy and delicious…also, I saw a lot of people picking at it earlier and they seemed to like it, too.

High praise, my friends.  High praise.

So, it was a good event, but the fun does not stop there, my friends!

Lee Whiteside is also organizing this year’s Phoenix Comicon and has graciously decided to overlook my many felonies by inviting me to do a few panels on breaking into the genre and discussing the various sub-genres, such as paranormal romance (of which I am a convicted expert) and steampunk.  Come to see it, why don’t you?  And see the various other guests, including Stan Lee, James Marsters and Felicia “God DAMN” Day!

I hear tell she once said something nice about Joe Abercrombie.  In my efforts to out-do him in all things, including siring two children of my own, I will defeat him in this, as well.

Be there or be SHORN OF HAIR.

P.S. Did I not tell you I’d show it to you?  Behold, Tome of the Undercakes.


LepreCon Report! Read More »

Sam Sykes’ Birthday List

It is currently May 10th.  Tomorrow is May 11th, also known as Sam Sykes Day, the day in which Sam Sykes cleaned the Augean Stables, defeated the Royal British Fleet, successfully landed at Normandy and cracked the human genome.  It is a day in which the universe aligns in joy of the creation that is Sam Sykes, singing songs of his virtues, his feats of strength, his outstanding eyebrow shape and possibly flashes its tits in his direction but only for a moment so the other planets don’t see and think the universe is a sluts.

I’ve already gotten a few good presents so far, such as this one from my friend Matt Clarkson, of Australia, who wrote on my Facebook page…

Six bookstores were sold out of Tome before I could find a copy for my friend, I do believe you’re quite popular Mr. Sykes

Six.  Six bookstores, friends.  We have sold at least SIX books (maybe more?)  Perhaps Sam Sykes is a friend and admirer of the Australians after all.  Perhaps Sam Sykes will take back his comment that he once thought Kevin Rudd was a hip hop artist.  Perhaps Sam Sykes will walk the deserts of this great southern land and probably return a dessicated husk of flesh.

Or maybe he’ll just hope everyone is enjoying it so far!

In other news, I’ve also been made aware of the fact that CD-WOW!, a fine-ass stocker of fine-ass entertainment, is stocking Tome of the Undergates, thus allowing you another fine-ass place to purchase this fine-ass book from.  Why not take your fine ass over there and see if it tickles you in a way you find great?

Now, then, these are pretty good presents so far, friends.  But this is Sam Sykes, a man who stands taller than most trees and whose appetites are vast and endless as the oceans are deep.  While he is pleased, he will never be satisfied.  Never.  Thus, he releases to you his birthday list, with requested gifts from his closest and nearest of friends.  Please read and take note.  If you are able, try to pressure these people into appeasing Sam Sykes in a truly Chamberlain-fashion.

From Joe Abercrombie, I would like you to acknowledge that I am, indeed, over six-foot-three and that you think I am “fine like wine.”  I will accept any other positive comparison, so long as it is in rhyme form.

From Stephen Deas, I would appreciate a free-style hip hop beat (with a phatness factor of at least 15) about how much you liked my book.  Please make liberal use of most rap slang, including “phat,” “dope,” “stank,” “donk” and “labrador.”

From Suzanne McLeod, please stage a one-woman re-enactment of Highlander and videotape it.

From Mark Charan Newton, please change your middle name to “Charon” and demand a bidding of two pieces of copper for every book you sign for the next five years.  Also, please buy me a boat.

From Tom Lloyd, withdraw the harassment charges you pressed against me for that time I called you and breathed heavily over the phone.

From Aidan Moher, I demand that you acknowledge that I know a little bit about hockey and am not just saying it in an attempt to impress you.

From Alex Bell, please study this video very carefully, then re-enact it.  You may have to gain several pounds and lose several inches, but accuracy is appreciated.

From Jaine Fenn, please beat up everyone who refuses to do as I ask.

Also, as a brief reminder, I will be at the Poisoned Pen bookstore this Wednesday and at LepreCon (with George R.R. Martin!) this weekend, as well at Phoenix ComicCon for the dates mentioned there.

Hope to see you at one (or all?) of them!

Sam Sykes’ Birthday List Read More »

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