GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #115: A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE DENTIST'S

Some of you may recall that I had a bout with gingivitis a few years back, and while I've defeated it, my gums have receded a bit too much. I wound up losing a tooth to it. I got an implant, as described in my old multi-part "Tales of Dentistry." The dentist I'm about to talk about is referred to as Dentist Two in the second part of that series.


I recently went to my dentist for a cleaning, and the hygienist said that my gums on tooth 26 had receded too far, to the point where if I did nothing about it, I would lose that tooth. Dentist one referred me to dentist two again for a skin graft.


I just got back from my Vegas vacation, so I had the day off to recover. Because it sounded urgent, I decided to go in for my gum graft today and get that over with. It went very well. There were no issues. However, after, when I was setting up my appointment to get the stitches taken out, the receptionist suddenly remembered me. Dentist two remembered fairly well, but the receptionist suddenly had total recall.


She asked me if I used to come in with my grandfather. I did. She asked me if I was a writer. I was (and still am, in case all of you have forgotten). She asked me if I liked horror, and I said yes.


Then, she said something very odd to me. She said that she remembered thinking about this nice young man who used to come in with his grandfather, who needed a tooth implant. Immediately, I thought, "Oh shit." Because I was on my best behavior due to the fact I was going to see a dentist whom I didn't know. (I don't act like myself if I'm in such a situation.) Also, my grandfather was with me because I was on trial for DUI at the time. If he didn't drive me, I couldn't make it to the dentist.


But then she said that she wanted to set me up with her daughter, who really likes horror books, whose husband she hated. I wanted to tell her about the way I really am, but I knew it would just be more awkward, so I stayed silent.


And then she asked about how my writing career was going, so I talked vaguely about my first book, STRIP, from MUSA, and my second book, TALES OF QUESTIONABLE TASTE, from StrangeHouse. Also, I told her my third book was coming out soon, although I didn't mention the title. It's pretty vulgar, and it might change by the time it comes out. But still.


The next thing I know, she's telling everyone else in the office that I'm a writer of horror and crime. All of a sudden, everyone, including Dentist Two, wants to read my books. They said they were going to look me up on Amazon.


I didn't dare tell them that my second book features a space giant fucking the sun, as provided by the awesome Jesse Wheeler.


Only one of them strikes me as someone who might enjoy my work. The others? Let's just say that my next visit to the office should be . . . interesting.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #90: THE THIRD STRANGEHOUSE GENIUS (FOR REAL, THIS TIME)

A while back, I talked about the three geniuses I've met through my work with StrangeHouse Books. The first was K.M. Tepe. The second is Jesse Wheeler. For the third, though, I pulled this fuckery. I thought it was pretty funny, and I think everyone else thought so, too. I hope.


But I've kept my silence long enough. Fuck it. It's time to name the third genius and eliminate the mystery. The genius in question is . . .


Hold that thought. In all honesty, the identity of that third genius should surprise no one. It's very obvious who this person is. No one has asked me privately about who this person might be, mostly because they might have been nervous about the scenario I mentioned in that third GF piece. Either that, or maybe it was because everyone knew who I was talking about in the first place.


So without further ado, let's pull the mask off the third genius, whose name is . . .


I wonder if I got to anyone with that third piece. I wonder if anyone cares about it, or if anyone is even reading this. That third piece racked up a ton of readers, but the GF numbers have been down lately. Anyway, the third genius of SHB is . . . someone whose name I'm going to announce next week!


Just kidding. It's Kevin Strange, of course. He was the mastermind behind SHB. It not only took a lot of smarts, but also a ton of balls, to take on a project like that. Most of all, it took a lot of generosity. In this world of self-publishing, who the fuck would want to publish anyone else? I asked him that once, and here is his response.


Not only did he pull off the juggling act of being a publisher, he also wrote some great books. My favorite is probably VAMPIRE GUTS IN NUKE TOWN. Or maybe it's the uncut McHUMANS. Or perhaps THE LAST GIG ON PLANET EARTH? Or . . . I could go on forever. You get the idea. He's full of batshit crazy ideas about down-on-their-luck dudes who find themselves in situations where the odds are totally against them, yet they rise to the challenge. He's the champion of the underdog, and he stomps assholes flat, as evidenced in "Inside an Asshole" (found in MURDER STORIES FOR YOUR BRAIN PIECE, which I helped edit along with Sean Ferrari).


Today is his birthday. Help him celebrate by buying his books, which can be found here. You won't be disappointed. Happy birthday, Kevin Strange, you mad genius bastard, you!

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #24: THE THIRD STRANGEHOUSE GENIUS

I was in my freshman year of high school when I learned about the concept of the "senior prank." I heard some good stories, but my favorite was the one about how someone took three pigs and spray-painted a number on each one: 1, 2 and 4. Then, this sadistic motherfucker set these pigs loose on school grounds. The authorities found all three pigs, but they went batshit crazy trying to find #3, which didn't exist.


Hold that thought. I want to tell you about something else first.


Writers are all arrogant fucks. I include myself in that category. None of us would ever publicly say it, because we are also incredibly fragile people. It's very zen, in a way. We all think the world of ourselves when we're doing the things we do, but when we open ourselves up to criticism, we become these shy creatures. Hell, we start degrading our own work before someone else has a chance to.


I'm guilty of this, too. It pains me to say it, but it's true. We all think we're geniuses, but very few of us really are geniuses. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that 80% of us are trend-followers instead of trend-setters.


In my own false-modesty, I was about to say that I don't know where I fit into that equation. But . . . well, one of the things I pride myself on when it comes to GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS is off-the-cuff honesty. So, confession time: I really don't know where I fit when it comes to that percentage. I know I strive for that other 20%. If I think I'm goldbricking it, or if I'm telling savage lies, I try to back away from that work, like I recently did with my Vietnam slasher novel. But I don't really know for sure if I'm making it into that august category.


When I first started this thing, I fully intended to reveal the identity of the third genius I met through StrangeHouse Books. But then . . . an imp took me over, as an imp sometimes does. About 75% of my life, I think I'm a Trickster God. (There's that arrogance again.)


For one, if I named the person in question, I would have a dozen others angry at me for not saying their name. But that's not nearly as interesting as my other reason: because most SHB writers reading this will think I'm talking about them, even if I'm not. If I were among them, I'd be thinking it, too.


You see, it's a lot like that senior prank I mentioned earlier, except it seems to be the opposite. The third SHB genius really does exist, you see. But I think it's funnier to keep my mouth shut on who it is.


Fair warning: if you ask me in person who this third genius is, I'll say it's you. So . . . if you flaunt it later, you might run into someone else who says, well, you get the idea.


K.M. Tepe and Jesse Wheeler will know. But for everyone else? I'm OK with keeping them guessing . . .


Yes, I know I'm a fucker. Sorry. But these days, I have to get my laughs where I can find them. Rest assured, though, that there is a third. This person is a genius in a different way from Tepe and Wheeler, but this person is a genius nonetheless.


I can't help it. The feeling I get in my head and heart is the same kind of euphoric feeling I got from when I heard about the pigs.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #23: WHERE IN THE WORLD IS JESSE WHEELER?

Last night, I named K.M. Tepe as one of the three geniuses I met through my involvement with StrangeHouse. I kicked around the idea of doing a quick piece on the other two, and this morning, I decided to take the plunge. As you can gather from the title, the second is Jesse Wheeler.

THE FARROWING is great. I loved it. However, it is not a work of genius. It's a great homage to books by Laymon and Lee, and while homage can be amazing, it can never be genius. No, Wheeler wrote TWO things that made me keenly aware of his mad, lunatic genius: "Lips" in STRANGE SEX and the amazing collection of novellas, DINNER AT THE VOMITROPOLIS. Holy shit, he is a mad bastard. Don't take my word for it. Click on the links and buy these books for yourself. If you're anything like me, you'll fall in love with the guy's work. DatV got to me. It's one of the sickest, most grotesque things I've ever read. It's a life-changer.

And if you have time, look up some videos with him in it. There are a few on YouTube from cons over the years. Also, listen to SHB's old podcast, READING TO MONSTERS. I forgot which episode he was on, but Kevin Strange has great, crazy stories about the guy. Wheeler is a genuine madman.

There's one thing that baffles me, though. Where the hell did he go? One day, he releases THE FARROWING, and then the next, he's fallen off the face of the earth. He's not on Facebook anymore. What gives? I'm almost tempted to print up missing posters of him.

I worry about the guy. He's crazy, and crazy things happen to crazy people. Wherever he is, I hope he's all right. I also hope he's writing more repulsive, offensive stories, wherever in the world he may be.

Stay tuned tomorrow night for the third SHB genius.

ONE QUESTION INTERVIEWS: KEVIN STRANGE

Back in the day, Kevin Strange was a filmmaker. He wrote and directed several indie pictures, like COLONEL KILL MOTHERFUCKERS, DEAD SHIT and COCKHAMMER. Now he’s writing books and publishing them through his own company, StrangeHouse Books. He’s the author of ROBAMAPOCALYPSE, VAMPIRE GUTS IN NUKE TOWN and THE LAST GIG ON PLANET EARTH AND OTHER STRANGE STORIES, among others. I’ve been lucky to be a part of his company. They published stories by me in ZOMBIE! ZOMBIE! BRAIN BANG! and STRANGE FUCKING STORIES, they published my second book TALES OF QUESTIONABLE TASTE and we’re poised to do more business.

ME: After working in film for quite a while, you switched over to publishing. It’s easy to see why someone would want to publish their own work, but you’ve been encouraging a stable of writers for several years now. What drew you to championing other people’s work?

KEVIN STRANGE: Thanks for having me on your blog, John. You asked me this question a few months ago, and I’m still struggling with my answer. “Why did you choose to publish other authors?”

Why DID I choose to work with other authors? That’s a great question. And one of the hardest questions I’ve ever been asked. It’s a question I ask myself two or three times a week. I am constantly torn away from my own novels so that I can tend to and promote the needs and books of my fellow SHB authors. I’m always trying to find a balance between Kevin Strange the novelist and Kevin Strange the publisher.

Wouldn’t life be soooo much easier if I just wrote books?

Sure. And a lot less of a headache. And a lot less drama. But ultimately a lot less fulfilling. You see, when I wrote and directed feature films, I was surrounded by people. I had casts of actors who looked to me to direct them through their crazy dialogue and ridiculous scenes. I had the behind the scenes crew looking to me for guidance as they set up lighting and chose the angles and depth of their shots. I had musicians sculpting my soundtracks and editors putting all the footage together into a (mostly) cohesive whole. I was never alone in my creativity and yet, I was the driving force, the engine. The stop and the go. It was all up to me.

When I stepped away from that, there was a huge vacuum. I was now a guy alone in a room with a lap top. Sure I’d always pecked away at my own scripts, but not a single one of them was over 50 or 60 pages of mostly dialogue. My scripts were easy to write and basically just a reference for my actors to look at so they could memorize their lines. They took me a week each to write, once I sat down and did the job.

Writing fiction was hard as fuck. I had to write EVERYTHING and it took a long time. Days and nights turned into weeks and months for a few dozen pages. Each short story took a chunk of my being with it. My longer works felt like black holes, threatening to drag me down into myself forever.

It was like going from a brightly lit party with driving music, sexy girls, cool bros and lots of drugs and booze, to a pitch black locked basement.

It was a hard transition, one I’m not completely through. If I was, I’d have six books coming out this year instead of three. Sometimes, I still hide from my work because it’s too lonely, too quiet, too ME. The easiest way to overcome this shocking loneliness was to team up with a crew of like-minded weirdos and do this thing together. It didn’t feel so lonely when it was HEY GANG! STRANGEHOUSE BOOKS!!!!! instead of just Kevin and his computer.

But one thing I wasn’t ready for, after years of being THE GUY who controlled everything from how much toilet paper we brought to the set, to how long a beautiful woman had to stand in front of me with her tits out while talking about buttholes and huge dicks, was that my new author buddies who I teamed up with to fight the good fight with . . . well, they had egos of their own.

I didn’t write their books. I didn’t control their books. As their publisher, they saw me as the guy who magically made them money, and I could fuck myself if I had anything else to say about it. Those two things, the ego of a film maker and the ego of a writer are two things you never want to see clash.

It’s been over two years now, and I’ve learned to adjust. Some people still think I’m an ego maniac who steals all of authors’ money and jacks off with it. But anyone currently working with me knows I’ve mellowed out.

I’ve learned to deal with author egos, and how to keep my own bullshit in check. I had to lose a few books from my catalog, and let several talented authors (and a couple of business partners) walk on down the road before I figured out how to run my shit. But we’re good now.

Today? As 2014 grows its first boner, I couldn’t be happier to work with my team of authors, artists and our editor Sean Ferrari. I understand that our authors’ books belong to them, emotionally, and I’ve learned to feel people out before I sign them to contracts. I don’t let the cunts ruin the fun for the rest of us. I’ve learned that blindly accepting novel submissions is mostly a waste of time, and that helping an author build a book that both of us are happy with is the best way to do business.

I choose to work with other authors because I feel like I have something to offer them beyond writing them a check 4 times a year. I feel like our team compliments everyone on our roster and that as a whole, SHB is stronger, louder and more successful than any one of us would be without each other.

Working with authors like you, John Bruni, and author/artist Jesse Wheeler makes me excited to be an author, makes me proud to be a publisher. I don’t’ know if I’d still be a writer today if I hadn’t met you guys and helped bring your books to life. You guys make me want to be a better leader and a better author. Without you guys, I’m just the guy typing in the dark.

Thank you for making SHB what it is, and for making me who I am today. YOU are why I do what I do.

Kevin’s books can be bought here. Follow him on Twitter here. Don’t forget to check out SHB and buy all of their releases (including mine).

IT CAN FINALLY BE REVEALED: THE COVER OF MY SECOND BOOK!

See?  I told you it was going to be awesome.  In fact, take my name off the cover, and I'll bet many of you would be able to say, "Yep, that's a book by John Bruni, all right."  It'll be out pretty soon, probably next month.  I can say with every confidence that I believe this book will blow your balls off.  Special thanks to Jesse Wheeler, who created this amazing cover, and to Don Noble and Kevin Strange for taking a chance on me.  And in case you're wondering about the giant guy fucking the sun, it's from a story within this collection called "Monster Cock."  I think you'll all get a kick out of that one.