BQB Zombies

I Like Zombies

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Yes I do I surely love zombies.

“But what if the zombies try to eat you?

ACT I

PROLOGUE

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
SCENE I. Verona. A public place.

Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers
SAMPSON
Gregory, o’ my word, we’ll not carry coals.
GREGORY
No, for then we should be colliers.
SAMPSON
I mean, an we be in choler, we’ll draw.
GREGORY
Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o’ the collar.
SAMPSON
I strike quickly, being moved.
GREGORY
But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
SAMPSON
A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
GREGORY
To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn’st away.
SAMPSON
A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s.
GREGORY
That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
to the wall.
SAMPSON
True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Montague’s men from the wall, and thrust his maids
to the wall.
GREGORY
The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
SAMPSON
‘Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
maids, and cut off their heads.
GREGORY
The heads of the maids?
SAMPSON
Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
take it in wh

#31ZombieAuthors – Day 31 Interview – Sean Platt and David W. Wright

Happy Halloween, 3.5 readers.

This month, we’ve chatted up an absurd amount of zombie fiction writers, haven’t we?

They’re all impressive in their own right, and they all bent over backwards to help me out, so it was virtually impossible to figure out who to assign the coveted Halloween spot to.

Then it hit me. Use it to talk to the dudes that got me writing again.

Not to make this about me, but long ago, I gave up on my dream of becoming a writer.

Like so many before me, the path toward traditional publishing seemed like it was riddled with one insurmountable wall after another.

Spend my time writing only to end up with my work tossed on a rejection heap with countless other writers competing for a highly coveted publishing contract?

Hell, I might as well cash out my life savings (all 3.5 dollars of it) and spend it on lotto tickets.

So I moved on and pursued a more realistic profession, but as the years went by, I always second guessed myself.

“What if?”

“What if I’d kept at it? Would I be a writer today?”

Around late 2014 I discovered the Self Publishing Podcast, starring full time indie authors Johnny B. Truant, Sean Platt, and David W. Wright. Together, this trio have their own “story studio,” Sterling and Stone.

They’ve found success as multi-genre authors, with sci-fi epics like The Beam, steam punk adventures like The Dream Engine and TV style serials such as Yesterday’s Gone, just to name a few. They’re so prolific I doubt I could rattle off all their hits in one sitting.

Their self-publishing guide, Write. Publish. Repeat. (The No-Luck-Required Guide to Self-Publishing Success) has become a bible of sorts for the indie community. I picked up a copy and thus far I’ve found the information it provides to be invaluable.

I have a standing appointment with these gents every Wednesday afternoon, during which I pop on their podcast and listen to the boys talk about the craft they love on my commute home.

To be clear, they don’t deal with get rich quick schemes or gimmicks. They’re just three guys who talk about what works and doesn’t work for them. They regularly schedule guests on the cutting edge of self-publishing, and most importantly, they have fun.

Yes, I said fun. You won’t be bored when you listen to SPP. The best way I can describe it is that Johnny, Sean and Dave aren’t the stodgy, tweed coat wearing professors who drone on and on in a boring lecture guaranteed to put you to sleep.

Rather, they’re the cool TAs who stop by your dorm, crack open a beer, joke around with you, and give you the straight scoop on what you need to know.

Will I ever self-publish a book? I have no idea, but listening to these guys helped me decide to pick up my long abandoned dream of a writing career, dust it off, and start working toward it again, and that in and of itself has made me a happier person.

Johnny was kind enough to wish me well with this. Sean and Dave, as Sterling and Stone’s preeminent zombie fiction writers, welcome to the Bookshelf Battle Blog. I’ve heard you guys say it doesn’t get any worse than your other podcast, Better Off Undead, but I’d challenge that notion since last I checked, my site only has 3.5 readers.

Q. Happy Halloween. Do you have any plans to celebrate? (Redact as necessary, Dave)

Q. Guys, what’s the deal with zombies? The past month, I’ve interviewed authors from all different backgrounds and they’ve all managed to find their own unique take on the zombie genre. For the layman who thinks, “I don’t get it. All they do is grunt and groan and eat brains!” please explain why fans can’t get enough of the undead.

Q. Z 2134 features a dystopian America of the future, one in which zombie plagues have ravaged the world, giving rise to a totalitarian government, not to mention the Darwin Games, a televised survival show in which people have to fight zombies on air. What inspired you to write these stories?

Q. One thing I’ve noticed about science fiction/zombie lore is that authors have a tendency to forecast a future of doom and gloom (**cough cough DAVE! cough**) excuse me. Tickle in my throat. I can’t say as I blame them though, given that every day there’s a new story on the news that rattles my faith in humanity. Do you think a book where people are actually happy and the world has come together in a peaceful, harmonious future would ever be viable (or dare I say, realistic?)

Q. Let’s talk SPP. You guys do a fair amount of busting on one another, all in good fun of course. Still, I have to say I envy the partnership you’ve formed. I’ve worked on a number of group projects in my life and to date, I’ve never walked away from the experience without holding back the desire to strangle my partners (who probably felt the same way about me.) Do you guys realize what you have and more importantly, when the microphone’s off, do you tell each other? It’d make me happy if you guys would break out in a chorus of Bette Midler’s Wind Beneath My Wings one day, in celebration of a rare collaboration that actually works.

Q. As mentioned on your site, Sean is the Tigger to Dave’s Eeyore. I’d even go so far as to say that Sean is the Professor X to Dave’s Magneto. In other words, Sean’s an optimist and Dave’s a pessimist.

Is that why you two work well together? One of you holds out hope, the other can see problems coming at twenty paces, and together you equal each other out?

Q. Not to bore you with my problems, but a maniacal alien dictator from an unnamed world despises reality television to the point where he’s demanded that I write a novel so finely crafted that it causes the public to abandon shows where cameras follow around vapid celebrities and focus their attention entirely on scripted media.

But I don’t want to bother you with that. You’ve been in self-publishing for a long time now. Is there one nugget of advice, something that you wish someone had told you early on when you were getting started that you could pass on to me?

Q. Self-publishers are often vocal about their fears, which is understandable. Amazon might change their terms. Tech companies they depend on might go out of business. Traditional publishers might find a way to flip the proverbial poker table over and take their chips back.

But lets forget all that and be positive for a moment. Let’s be Seans and not Daves. As experts in the field, do you foresee any major, positive developments coming in the future that will make self-publishers jump for joy?

Q. This has been a fantastic interview so far though one area where it is lacking is a spontaneous discussion of where to find quality book covers at an affordable price. As an aspiring author, I hope to one day self-publish a book, but I have no idea where to find the assistance of multiple cover designers. Should I just give up and design a cover myself using a magic marker and glitter glue? I certainly hope there’s an option out there where I have nothing to lose.

Q. Sean. Dave. Seriously. Thank you for all that you do. When The History of Self-Publishing is written, there should be twenty chapters dedicated to you two and Johnny. The floor is yours. If there are any last minute words of wisdom you’d like to share with my 3.5 readers, please feel free to do so.

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 31 – Part 3

It was late.

I sat in my office, the magic bookshelf behind me, the tiny characters who inhabited it fast asleep.

NN1 was on my TV, various commentators weighing in on all the consequences that General Morganstern was in for.

On my computer, I’d typed the following words:

Johnny Gunhands: A Farewell to Hands

Draft #2

VGRF came in.

“You foiled a corrupt general’s plot, saved us all from being blown up, and destroyed the zombie menace,” she said. “Don’t you think you’ve earned some sleep?”

“I can’t,” I replied. “I’m too wired. Besides, you know with the Mighty Potentate up my ass the world will never be safe from alien invasion until I finish this book.”

I opened up iTunes and turned on my favorite show, The Self Publishing Podcast.

Notorious indie authors Johnny B. Truant, Sean Platt, and David W. Wright were discussing the latest news in the world of do it yourself publishing.

“I hate you all,” grumbled Dave.

VGRF handed picked up the space phone and handed it to me.

“What?” I asked.

“Go on,” she said.

“Oh please. The world has already given me too many miracles tonight. I doubt an interview with these illustrious scribes.”

“The worst that can happen is they say no,” VGRF said.

I let out a loud, obnoxious sigh.

“Fine. Here goes nothing.”

I looked up the number for Sterling and Stone, the SPP trio’s publishing company.

I dialed it. The phone rang.

“Hello? Yes, Bookshelf Q. Battler here. I’m doing a zombie author interview series and I’d like to talk to Sean and Dave about Z 2134….uh huh….uh huh….uh huh…Dave’s at Target? Uh huh….sure I can hold…”

Day 18 Interview – Deirdre Gould

My guest today is Deirdre Gould, who has strategically placed herself in Maine, where cold temperatures make the zombies run slower and remote isolation means zombie-fying viruses take longer to spread. Better yet, harsh storms make it so no one thinks Deirdre’s crazy for prepping.

In other words, she finds it to be a primo spot for writing the After the Cure series, which chronicles a world in which “the December Plague” has turned humans into violent, bloodthirsty, cannibalistic monsters.

I just hope they don’t eat me. I taste awful.

Let me see if I can get her on the space phone.

Q. Hello Deirdre. Are you a prepper and if so, I’ll ask the question I’ve posed to other prepper authors this month. Why? Are we all doomed or is it just a better safe and sorry thing?

Q. Soap. Water. Tacos. iPads. Netflix. Showers. All these great inventions become lost in a zombie apocalypse. Why do zombie fans fantasize about a world where all these things we take for granted are lost?

Q. You provide your readers with an interesting spin on the zompoc genre, namely, your series begins “after the cure” has been found. This cure turns the Infected back to normal, regular humans but alas, they have to live with the realization of all the horrible things they’ve done.

I hate to ask for spoilers, but here’s the question that pops into my mind. A zombie turns back to normal. Should we blame him for eating other humans or should we be all like, “It’s cool, man. You were a zombie?”

Q. In the first book of the series, a court psychologist and a defense attorney work to bring those responsible for the virus to justice. I could be wrong here, but I can’t think of another zombie apocalypse series where the reader actually gets to see a zombie apocalypse end and people turn their attention towards rebuilding society. How did you come up with the idea for this?

Q. What motivated you to start writing?

Q. Thanks for talking with me today. Before I go, do you have any last minute advice for my friends and I that might help us survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 31 – Part 2

“All the lights and sounds drove every zombie in town here,” Alien Jones said.

“Great,” I said. “We’re safe from being blown up but now we’re going to be ripped apart by the undead.”

“Not quite,” Alien Jones said as he punched a button on his space phone. The pilots’ voices were back.

“God I hope there’s some hot chicks at the ‘Cool As Shit Fighter Pilot Bar’ tonight,” Buzzkill said.

Alien Jones handed me the phone.

“You can communicate with them now. Human signals are notoriously easy to hack.”

“They are?” I asked.

“Of course. How do you think the Mighty Potentate has been getting free cable all these years?”

“Umm,” I said into the space phone. “Come in, good buddy?”

“Who is this?” Buzzkill asked.

“This is Bookshelf Q. Battler,” I said.

“This is a secure channel. How did you hack into it?”

“Umm…there’s an app for that? Hey listen, Cool As Shit Fighter Pilots, I need you to come back and waste some zombies.”

“10-4,” Buzzkill said.

Alien Jones leaned over me and punched a button. A non-lethal red laser shot out of it.

“What the hell is that?” I asked.

“A laser target designator,” Alien Jones explained. “Point it at the zombies and the Cool As Shit Fighter Pilots will do the rest.”

“Damn it,” I said. “This thing has everything. Where can I get my own space phone?”

“Eh,” Alien Jones said. “They’re fun at first but then they become a pain in your back quarter. Every year they tweak it a tiny bit and expect you to buy a whole new one.”

I pointed the laser at a house down the road.

“Wait,” I said. “We should let the zombies get closer.”

“Why would you want them to get closer?” VGRF asked.

“Because they’re right by…the house…”

VGRF glared at me.

“You know, the one that sorority rented and they all just lie around on the roof and sunbathe topless all day?”

VGRF slapped me for the fourth time this month.

“So I’ve heard! Ahh, screw it, those babes are probably all zombies by now.”

I pointed the laser at the sorority house. The zombies were tearing it apart, looking for survivors.

“Buzzkill, I’m painting the target now.”

“How does a civilian have a laser target designator?” Buzzkill asked.

“I uh…bought it on eBay?”

“Shit,” Buzzkill said. “Probably some disgruntled Russian sold it.”

The F-15s did another flyby.

“Locking on…”

BOOM!

The sorority house went up in a fiery blaze, taking the majority of the town’s zombies with it.

The F-15s flew off.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Bookshelf Q. Battler. Stop by the Cool as Shit Fighter Pilot bar sometime. First round’s on me.”

Alien Jones launched his space phone into the air again and dropped a funky, smooth beat. It was reminiscent of one of Barry White’s soulful 1970’s love jams.

3.5 readers, you might remember from the beginning of this tale that Alien Jones sounds exactly like Barry White.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Now it’s time to celebrate,” the Esteemed Brainy One replied.

The alien levitated himself in the air. Still in his hipster garb, he broke out into song.

FUNK YOU, BABY

By: Alien Jones, The Esteemed Brainy One

Aww baby…don’t you know you make me feel…fresh.

BQB/BERNIE: CHORUS

Fresh!

ALIEN JONES

Aww baby, don’t you know you make me feel…frisky!

CHORUS

Frisky!

ALIEN JONES

Aw baby, don’t you know you make me feel…FUNKY!

I’m gonna funk you up woman, funk you up and down.

Funk you all over the place, all over this funkin town.

Funk you up in the mornin’

Funk you up at night!

Goddamn baby don’t you know our funky love

Will be one funky ass sight!

Funky love baby!

Funk you all night long!

CHORUS:

Funk you all night long!

ALIEN JONES:

Funk you the funkin hell up while I’m singing this funky ass song!

I don’t know how I’ll do it, because I got no junk!

CHORUS

He’s got nothin’!

ALIEN JONES

But you know my ass will find a way because I’m one funky funkin’ ass hunk!

The space phone dropped into Alien Jones’ hands.

“That was unlike you,” I said.

“Sometimes an alien just has to funk.”

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal- Day 31 – (Part 1)

High atop the south wall of Bookshelf Battle Headquarters, I dialed the number for Network News One.

“Hello?” a lackadaisical operator answered. “Network News One. How may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to the Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties!”

“Ugh, the hundredth time tonight,” the operator said. “Sir, I’m going to tell you what I told all the other perverts. Yes, we realize that the Hot Ass Blonde Chick is quite fetching but she’s a serious journalist and doesn’t have time for…”

I cut her off.

“My name is Bookshelf Q. Battler,” I said. “She’s been working an angle on the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse, trying to prove my fellow Funky Hunk Bernie Plotznick and I and a bunch of survivors are still within the East Randomtown limits! Get her on the phone before I’m blown the hell up!”

“One minute sir.”

Some muzak played.

“La, la, la…muskrat love,” I sang to myself.

The voice of a hot chick picked up.

“Bookshelf Q. Battler?” the blonde reporter asked.

“Yes. Is the Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties?”

“It is. My God, you really ARE alive!”

“I sure am and Bernie Plotznick, my girlfriend, my deformed kid, and over a thousand survivors are at my house!”

“I knew General Morganstern was up to something,” the blonde reporter said.

“Do you have a chopper?” I asked.

“Sure. The NN1 Sky Copter is parked at the West Randomtown Shop N’ Slop.”

“I need you to get in that helicopter and get to the address I’m sending you,” I said.

“You’ll come outside so we can catch you on film?” the blonde reporter asked.

“Better,” I replied. “My associate and I are going to put on the greatest concert East Randomtown has ever seen!”

“I’m on my way.”

I handed the space phone to Alien Jones. He released it and it floated into the air.

“Can it work as a microphone?” I asked.

“Yes,” Alien Jones replied. “I’m syncing it to pick up your voices now.”

“How the hell…CAN IT DO THAT?” I asked, noticing my voice was being broadcast all over the compound. “Whoa!”

Three F-15s ripped across the sky.

Alien Jones snapped his fingers and the pilots’ transmissions were played over the space phone.

“Overlord, come in overlord. This is Buzzkill. On my six are ShockinAwesome and Limpwrist. Over.”

“Guys,” Limpwrist said. “I thought we talked about this. My call sign is ‘Hellfire.'”

“Screw you, Limpwrist,” Buzzkill said. “You show up late for ‘Cool Ass Fighter Pilot Call Name Assignment Day,’ you end up as Limpwrist. Suck it up.”

Below, I could see the townspeople standing around my yard, listening intently.

“I read you, Buzzkill.”

I recognized that voice. Morganstern was Overlord.

“Overlord we’re over the target now. Ready to turn East Randomtown into a crater and fry those zombie freaks. Over.”

The survivors gasped and started to panic.

“Copy,” Morganstern said.

“Overlord, you’re sure there’s no one alive down there?” Buzzkill asked.

The F-15s made another pass over BQB HQ.

“Affirmative,” Morganstern replied. “Jesus Christ, are you one of those hippies who whines about blowing up a whole town? Light that shit up already!”

“Preparing to light it up, sir…”

Alien Jones snapped his fingers and his space phone produced a dazzling strobe light effect. It also cast two spotlights on Bernie and I.

“Ready?” I asked Bernie.

“Shit son, you know my ass was born ready! FUNKY HUNKS IN THE HIZ-OUSE!”

Alien Jones wiggled his fingers again and the space phone shot up dazzling holograms of fireworks straight up into the sky. They were fake but to the untrained eye, they looked like the real thing.

“What the hell was that?” Buzzkill asked.

“What?” Morganstern asked. “What’s going on?”

“Come on all you East Randomtown survivors!” Bernie shouted, his voice amplified through the magic of alien technology. “Put your hands together and make some noise like your lives depend on it!”

It’d been years since my days as a Funky Hunk, but seeing Bernie in his element brought it all back.

“Because it does, yo!” I shouted. “Yo, yo, yo I’m Read N’ Plenty!”

“And I’m MC Plotz,” Bernie added.

Together, we said in unison, “AND WE ARE THE FUNKY HUNKS!”

The F-15s made another pass.

“Overlord, there appears to be some kind of nerd show going on down there,” Buzzkill said. “Over.”

“Bullshit,” Morganstern said. “You’re seeing things. Blow it all up! Now!”

“Are you nerds ready?” Alien Jones asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

VGRF kissed me.

“For luck.”

“Thanks baby,” I said. “But Read N’ Plenty don’t need no luck because he got mad ass skills! Hit it!”

Alien Jones snapped his fingers and the space phone laid down a hip hop beat.

In the distance, I saw a light and heard helicopter blades whirring. The NN1 SkyCopter drew closer, coming to a hover over BQB HQ.

“Aww shit,” Bernie said. “The Funky Hunks reunion show broadcasted live.”

Suddenly, it was like we were both in our early twenties again. We were jumping, running around, performing sick dance moves, all the while debuting Bernie’s latest jam:

STRAIGHT UP FLOSSIN’

Yo. 2015. Funky Hunks back on the scene.

Check it!

You’re out on a date with a fly ass honey.

But damn that girl be lookin’ at yo ass hella funny.

I wonder what the hell does she see?

Awwwww shit! It’s a rogue chick pea!

Time for the chorus:

Straight up flossin! Straight up flossin!

Now here’s some advice that yo ass better not be tossin!”

Alien Jones twirled his finger again and the space phone displayed the Network News One feed on a holographic monitor large enough for the whole crowd to see.

Kurt Manley was in studio.

“Sources say that the Congressman located his pants and issued a contrite apology to his constituents. In other news…”

Kurt pressed his finger down on his earpiece.

“Hold on. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going live to the NN1 SkyCopter where the Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties is covering a breaking story. Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties, are you there?”

The F-15s swooped overhead once more. Bernie and I kept jamming, keeping an eye on the coverage.

The crowd didn’t care for us at all, though some of the forty something moms in denim stretch pants in attendance did sing along. The faux fireworks continued to brighten up the night sky.

Wearing a pair of headphones, the blonde reporter, sitting in the back of the helicopter, appeared on screen.

“Yes I am, Kurt,” the reporter said. “I’m reporting live over the home of East Randomtown resident, Bookshelf Q. Battler. As you recall, General Morganstern told me earlier this evening that there are no survivors remaining in town, thus clearing the way for an aerial strike, yet as you can clearly see below…”

The camera man zoomed in on BQB HQ. We could see ourselves on the screen. Bernie and I waved.

“…the poorly reviewed late 90’s/early 2000’s rap duo known as ‘The Funky Hunks’ are performing an impromptu performance of their wholesome hip hop to a large group of survivors.”

Bernie and I kept rapping.

When you hang up yo toothbrush yo job aint done.

Get get that floss on that bicuspid, son!

There’s all kinds of sheet behind your incisor.

Cavities between teeth can be a real surpriser!

“Damn,” Kurt said. “That is the worse music I have ever seen.”

“Agreed,” the blonde reporter said. “But these nerds have blown the lid off a vast conspiracy tonight.”

Morganstern’s voice came over the space phone. Alien Jones amplified it loud enough that the blonde reporter’s mic was able to pick it up way up in her helicopter.

“Buzzkill, blow that bitch out of the sky.”

The F-15’s tore up the sky once more.

“Overlord, have you lost your mind?”

“She has entered a restricted area! Do it!”

“ShockinAwesome. Limpwrist. Let’s head back to base.”

“I HAVE GIVEN YOU A DIRECT ORDER!” Morganstern hollered.

“Court martial me if you want, General,” Buzzkill said. “But I’m not about to murder a bunch of civilians, especially the Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties. She’s a national treasure.”

Bernie and I wrapped up our song and I looked at the holo-screen.

“Kurt, did you get all that?”

“We sure did, Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties. General Morganstern has a lot of explaining to do. We’re going to stay with this story as it develops. Meanwhile, is your cat trying to sit on your face and suffocate you while you sleep? A prominent veterinarian will weigh in after this commercial break…”

The NN1 SkyCopter banked right and took off.

The crowd cheered and celebrated. Alien Jones cut our mics off and caught the space phone as it landed in his hands.

“Um, nerds?” the Esteemed Brainy One said as he pointed his finger towards the neighborhood.

AJ pressed an app that turned his phone into a powerful pair of binoculars. I looked at the screen to see a legion of hungry zombies marching down the road.

“It’s not time to party yet,” AJ said.

#31ZombieAuthors – Day 30 Interview – J.M. Wilde

:::Looks in the mirror. Slaps myself.:::

OK, BQB. Get a grip. You’ve got a half-hour left until East Randomtown is blown up. You need to complete this interview, then go save the day.

Time is of the essence and you’re about to talk to a professional. Sure, J.M. Wilde is one of today’s top Australian zombie fiction authors, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk and ask her about Australian stuff. She doesn’t want to talk about kangaroos, koala bears, or dingos. She doesn’t want to compare knife sizes a la Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee. Don’t ask her about vegemite sandwiches or if the Men Without Hats’ mandate to ostracize friends of your friends who don’t dance is still in effect over there.

Just take all of your pre-conceived Aussie stereotypes and throw them out the window. The fans of the highly popular Eva series deserve no less.

OK. The space phone is ringing.

Q. Hello J.M. I’m trapped in a zombie apocalypse and my hometown is about to be blown to smithereens, but I’ve dropped everything to use a highly sophisticated alien communication device to place a call clear across the world in order to ask a question of utmost importance:

Clockwise or counterclockwise: which way does the water swirl down the drain in the land down under? Please. Go flush your toilet, take copious notes, then come back with a full report. I swear that’s all I’ll need to get all the curiosity about Australia out of my system.

Q. By the way, since its already October 31 in Australia, Happy Halloween! I realize this is an American holiday that began in the pre-colonial days of the U.S. in which colonists believed it was necessary to ward off evil spirits by running around in costumes, because if it’s one thing that a hell beast fears most, it’s a puritan in a bed sheet. Fast forward to today, where once a year we all openly encourage children to disobey all the rules we impose on them throughout the rest of the year by encouraging them to “go ahead and knock on that stranger’s door and demand free food stuffs!”

Long story short – Halloween in Australia. Does anyone over there do anything to celebrate or is it just another day? Don’t worry if the answer is the latter. With all the goofballs running around in costumes and all the weight I gain from eating fun size candy bars, there are times I wish it was November 1 already too.

Q. Let’s talk about The Eva Series. In this three-book collection, you’ve turned Australia into one great big zombie infested death island. Readers follow the journey of Eva as she and her friends make their way through the madness in search of safety. I have to admit, this is a pretty unique turn for the zompoc genre. How did you come up with Eva’s story and what inspired you to tell her tale?

Q. As I told a pair of writers the other day, I don’t have much pull in Hollywood. Sure, Taye Diggs follows me on Twitter but I’m pretty sure he hit the follow button by accident. That being said, “Zombies in Australia” seems like a concept ripe for a movie. On the off chance that J.J. Abrahams visits my blog by accident, give him your pitch as to why we need an Eva movie.

Q. OK, I don’t want to brag, but I have been known to attract as many as 3.5 readers to my blog. I thought that was pretty impressive until I learned that The Eva Series has racked up over 3 million reads online. How did you get so many eyeballs on your work and for any aspiring writers out there, what can they do to attract more readers?

Q. You’re a Wattpad star. For people who aren’t as hip as we are, Wattpad is an online site that allows users to post their works and receive feedback from other users. What about this site have you found useful and would you recommend it to other authors?

Q. So what’s next for you? Any other book ideas in the works? Could the zombies attack your neighbors? Just going to throw it out there. I feel like “TaZmania” or “New Z-Land” are rife with potential.

Q. You’re a self-described fan girl. On your website, you talk about how you want to be Iron Man and have pictures of yourself in Marty MacFly’s “future wear” from Back to the Future II, in which you’re meeting Christopher Lloyd, the actor who played Doc Brown. I tip my hat to you, madam. You’ve dethroned me as the Internet’s greatest poindexter. A lot of great superhero/comic bookish movies coming out next year. Which one or ones are you looking forward to most?

Q. J.M., thanks for taking a moment to talk with me. Before I go, do you have any last minute advice that might help my friends and I survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

BQB’S ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE SURVIVOR’S JOURNAL – DAY 30 (PART 3)

“Bookshelf?”

Attorney Donnelly was all about proper etiquette. As long as I’d known her, she never referred to me as anything other than”Mr. Battler” without fail.

Somehow, the announcement of an impending air strike designed wipe out my entire home town didn’t cause the gravity of my situation to sink in the way hearing my lawyer, the dependable, unshakeable rock I’d grown accustomed to leaning on in times of crisis, call me by my first name did.

“I take it you saw the news?” I asked.

“Indeed.”

“You sent a copy of Jake’s manuscript to Morganstern?” I asked.

“I did,” Delilah said. “He didn’t budge.”

“Damn,” I said.

“Never fear, Bookshelf,” Delilah said. “I have full confidence that your brilliant mind will devise a way out of this conundrum.”

“You really think so?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Thanks Delilah,” I said. “I have to go save East Randomtown now Goodbye..”

“Godspeed sir.”

I kept listening as Delilah fumbled with the phone. Just before she hanged up on her end, I distinctly heard her say, “Mr. Hatcher, I do believe we’ll be in need of a new client soon.”

Thanks a lot, D.

The space phone rang.

“Battler, you moldy sack of tarantula crap.”

“Morganstern,” I replied.

“You really thought you could blackmail me with a threat to disperse the details of Operation Fuhrerpunschen to the world?”

“It crossed my mind,” I said. “I thought the man you answered to wanted to keep that info hush hush.”

“He does,” Morganstern said. “But he also realizes that even if that strumpet ambulance chaser of yours does release Hatcher’s manuscript, you’ll just be written off as some dopey, hair-brained conspiracy theorist. Hatcher. That alien. Uncle Hardass. No one believes any of the so-called ‘writers’ on your blog are real. Everyone just assumes you’re some dumb ass who pretends to be others just to drag traffic to a blog that will never, EVER attract more than 3.5 readers.”

“So why kill me at all?”

“Because if you keep going, you might attract a large enough audience that people might start listening,” Morganstern said. “And the man I answer to can’t have that.”

“He shouldn’t worry,” I said. “There are backroads in the Mojave Desert that get more traffic than my site ever will.”

“That’s what I told him but it’s too late,” Morganstern said. “You messed with the bull. Now it’s time to get the horns…up your ass.”

Click.

Late to the party as usual, Bernie and Blandie walked in. Bernie zipped up his fly while Blandie attempted to brush her hair straight with her hands.

“Aw sweet!” Bernie cried. “Seven layer dip!”

“Not now, Bern,” I said. “I’m stuck with a problem I can’t solve. Everyone’s going to die and I couldn’t feel worse about it.”

“Shit dawg,” Bernie said as he dipped a chip. “Whenever I feel bad I just kick a funky beat.”

I jumped up.

“That’s it!”

I ran to my bedroom, which was stuffed full of East Randomtown residents, and opened my closet. There in the back in a plastic dry cleaning bag was an obnoxiously bright yellow track suit I hadn’t worn since the early 2000’s.

It was my Funky Hear wear. Bernie didn’t need any. He never stopped dressing like a Funky Hunk.

VGRF walked in.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to save our asses,” I said. “Bernie, think of the funkiest rhyme you can while I call a zombie author.”

“No,” VGRF said. “That’s ridiculous. Stop interviewing zombie authors. We’re all about to be blown sky high.”

“I made a promise to my 3.5 readers, woman!” I said. “I swore I’d interview one zombie author a day for 31 days and I’ll be damned if a corrupt general is going to stop me!”

“It’s too late!” VGRF said. “You’ve blown the 31 Zombie Authors Challenge! All the zombie authors are fast asleep! It’s 11:50 p.m.!”

“Maybe here,” I said. “But it’s already tomorrow in Australia.”

VGRF slapped me across the face for the third time this month.

“Damn it, you magnificent bastard! Stop being so brilliant!”

#31ZombieAuthors – Day 12 Interview – Joe McKinney

Bram Stoker award winning novelist Joe McKinney is to fans of zombie fiction what Elvis is to rock and roll. Simply mention Joe’s name to zombie enthusiasts, and they’re likely to swoon and pass out.

If a zombie invasion were to ever go down, Joe could handle it. After all, in his day job, he’s a Sergeant with the San Antonio, TX Police Department, where he helps run the city’s 911 dispatch center. He’s also worked as a homicide detective and a disaster mitigation specialist.

As if that weren’t impressive enough, he’s also the author of the Dead World series. The action begins in Dead City. After a series of hurricanes rocks the Gulf Coast, a zombie-fying virus spreads to San Antonio, where police officer Eddie Hudson has to brave a zompoc in order to get his wife and son to safety.

Joe’s also the author of the Deadlands series, the latest book of which, The Dead Won’t Die, came out last month on September 29. In fact, word has it that he’s heading to Atlanta October 16 and 17th for book signings, so if you’re in The Walking Dead territory, you might want to keep a pen handy.

Thanks for taking the time to speak with me today, oh wise zombie master. My 3.5 readers and I greatly appreciate it.

Q. You got in on the ground floor of a zombie fiction renaissance that began in the mid-2000’s and to date, doesn’t show any signs of stopping. What is it about zombies that has kept fans of these creepy creatures coming back for more after all these years?

Q. On your site, you mention how your daughter’s birth inspired you to follow your dream of becoming a writer, but it wasn’t easy. You explain how you penned a 1950’s style space opera, came to the conclusion that it was “crap,” and wondered why you were even bothering. Honestly, in my experience, most aspiring authors stop when they reach the “this is crap,” point, but you kept going and today you’re a rousing success.

For those of us who are convinced our writing is “crap,” can you give us a little pep talk to inspire us to keep going until we hit our non-crappy groove?

Q. “Write what you love” is one piece of advice you mention on your blog. Specifically, you hit your stride when you realized that after growing up on a steady diet of monster flicks, the zombie apocalypse genre was right up your alley.

So in other words, aspiring writers should just be themselves and stop trying to be something they’re not?

Q. “Write what you know” is a phrase often heard in the literary world. As a police officer, you know law enforcement procedure and it shows in your writing. For example, when I learned that Dead City involved a series of hurricanes, it didn’t surprise me to learn that you worked as a disaster mitigation specialist.

How else have you drawn on your police experience to bring greater detail to your writing? And should aspiring scribes go out and get some experience in something, anything before they put pen to paper?

Q. You hold a Master’s Degree in English Literature. For anyone out there hoping to break into the literary world, do you recommend such a formal course of study?

Q. OK. Here’s a big question. You’re a busy police officer. On top of that, you’ve got a family. And yet, amidst all of these important commitments, you have managed to have an amazing career as a writer.

Meanwhile, I don’t want to call myself a slacker, but one time I sat down with my laptop to write an epic masterpiece, got frustrated after the first few lines, then ended up watching a Steven Seagal movie marathon while devouring an entire box of oreos instead.

Please, for myself, and anyone else who can’t get their act together, give us some tips on how to juggle work, family, other stuff that happens in life, and still find time to pursue writing.

Q. Thanks for checking in, Joe. Before I go, do you have any advice that might help my friends and I survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?