Samhain Publishing

Thank you, Rush Limbaugh

Credit: The Rush Limbaugh website.

I like Rush Limbaugh.

Now that I’ve effectively guaranteed that The New York Times will never review my book, allow me to explain why I like the most-listened-to radio talkshow host in the United States.

The short answer is he mentioned my entire name and the title of my book on his show today. I provided neither my full name—Matt Manochio—or the book’s title—The Dark Servant. I was Matt from Netcong, NJ. I encourage you to read the call’s transcript and how Rush came to mention me. Whether my book sells more copies (I know I’ve sold at least one!) because of this, I’ll wait and see.

But there’s a longer answer to why I like Rush Limbaugh. Rush speaks passionately about the lengths people go to achieve success, and he laments when people who are capable of achieving success don’t try because of self-imposed limitations, or because success—however it’s measured— isn’t immediately achieved.

When you’re an unknown author, success rarely comes overnight. It sometimes takes years and several books under your belt. You have to plug away. And even then success isn’t guaranteed. You’ll experience failure in the form of rejection, be it from agents or publishers. But if you’re good enough, learn what you’re doing wrong, and persist you will get yeses. And those yeses matter. My point to Rush was that unknown authors must get blurbs from established writers, most of whom will say no. It’s not personal. It’s time consuming for established authors to squeeze in work they might not enjoy. But authors ask, and that led me to discuss a point Rush sometimes makes: Never be afraid to ask for something because you just might get it.

I asked at least 130 New York Times bestselling and/or Bram Stoker Award-winning authors and had a 6% success rate in getting blurbs: but that 6% accounted for 10 blurbs, an impressive haul that included some respected names. And I got them by asking, always respectfully, never pleading, always professionally.

The impetus for my call was a college professor’s study declaring the American Dream dead, and that upward mobility is an illusion. That’ll certainly be the case if you don’t try. And it will be the case if you abandon your passion. One of the things I wanted to tell Rush was how great it felt to write my book every day after work, not thinking it was something I had to do, but something I couldn’t wait to do. It’s a feeling I can’t describe but it’s something I hope everyone experiences in their life. I might not even sniff a bestsellers list, but I’ve achieved a personal goal, and whether it leads to massive financial success isn’t up to some force of nature. It’s up to me and my ability to tell a compelling story, to hook readers, and to spread the word about what I’m trying to do. If I wanted his listeners to take away anything, it was to at least try, and ask for help if you need to without losing your dignity.

I called Rush’s show and was greeted by the call screener, Bo Snerdley. I explained what I wanted to tell Rush about the blurbs, and told him I would not ask Rush for anything (otherwise authors would call Rush all the time). Bo took my data—Matt from Netcong—and sternly commanded me, I’m paraphrasing, not to plug my book on the air or else I’d come to regret it. I gave him my word I wouldn’t.

Now, Rush isn’t stupid. He sees on the call board that there’s an author on the line and that I’d be a fool not to want to plug my book. But I didn’t, I wasn’t tempted to. Rush sometimes allows authors to give their names and titles. I figured if the call went well, perhaps Rush would express interest. That didn’t happen. He commented on the point I brought up and went to break. That was that. I wasn’t able to plug my book, but I did get through to Rush Limbaugh’s show, which is no easy feat. People try for years and don’t get on. This was my second time trying (the first being last week) and I got through. And I’m certain he appreciated what I was saying. Success!

Rush returned from the break and then proceeded to identify both me and my book. I was sitting on my couch at home and my jaw dropped. It literally dropped. Rush said he appreciated that I was reserved in not attempting to shamelessly shill for myself, and explained that he Googled Matt and Netcong NJ and there I was. I didn’t ask for this nor was I expecting it. But it was a classy thing for Rush to do, and for that I’m thankful.

Thank you Wag the Fox for the interview! (@WagtheFox)

Please check out Wag the Fox (Gef Fox) for an interview with me about The Dark Servant!

My Bookish Ways and David Bernstein showin’ some love

Thank you to My Bookish Ways for posting an interview with me. Kristin Centorcelli runs a great operation and her website reflects it. Do check it out.

And thank you to fellow Samhain Publishing scribe David Bernstein, who kindly ran details about The Dark Servant and its related giveaways on his site. David and I are release day buddies. His newest novel, The Unhinged, hit shelves and ereaders on November 4.

Glenn Rolfe and Francis Xavier are awesome!

I’m adding these posts as I go to my Blog’s media page, but I want to call attention, and profusely thank, both Francis Xavier and Glenn Rolfe:

Francis Xavier posted a great interview with me on Examiner.com. Francis also interviewed my editor, Don D’Auria, a few years ago and likewise did a fantastic job.

Horror fanatic and author Glenn Rolfe reviewed The Dark Servant for iHorror.com and has been very supportive. Check out his review, and also check out his new short story collection, Slush.

Author Jonathan Janz Defines Horror

Today’s a big day for Samhain Horror authors Hunter Shea and Jonathan Janz, whose respective books, Hell Hole and Castle of Sorrows, hit shelves both physical and digital. I’ll be posting something with Hunter in a few weeks regarding both Hell Hole and his recent Kensington release, The Montauk Monster, which is already on my Kindle just aching to be read. Both guys have been supportive of me in my schlep toward publication come November 4, and I can’t wait to meet both at a yet-to-be-determined horror convention down the road.

But today’s post involves Jonathan Janz, which isn’t his real name and I’m still not sure how to refer to him when I write to him. But that’s another story. Isn’t this a kick-ass cover? (Yes.)

Courtesy: Amazon (Lord of Everything)

Castle of Sorrows is the sequel to Jonathan’s 2012 release, The Sorrows, which I read, and which involves the thing you see perched in the window frame on the cover. That is not a nice thing. I know, how could a monster with hooves and ram horns be anything but a cuddly Care Bear with a heart on its fluffy belly.

Courtesy: Google (the Other Lord of Everything)

Put it this way, you don’t want to be beat up or have sex with that thing above (the ram-horned monster, not the Care Bear). I’m waiting for my Castle of Sorrows trade paperback to arrive, and I’m sure I’ll dig it, as I do pretty much anything Jonathan writes. What Jonathan’s going to write about here is how he defines horror. I find it to be a difficult-to-define genre. What say you, Jonathan?

“I see horror as a very broad definition that encompasses much more territory than most people would consider horror. For instance, in addition to stories and films that deal with the fear of physical mortality, I’d expand horror’s reach to narratives that deal with psychological, emotional, or even spiritual horror. Books like King’s ‘SALEM’S LOT, Peter Straub’s GHOST STORY, and Richard Matheson’s HELL HOUSE are almost universally considered horror novels. And I, of course, would agree with that label. However, I also view Cormac McCarthy’s THE ROAD, Harold Pinter’s THE HOMECOMING, and Arthur Koestler’s DARKNESS AT NOON as horror stories. These stories deal with the shadowy realms of the human mind and the base viciousness of human behavior. The horror I felt during THE HOMECOMING was more powerful than the horror I experience when reading most horror novels. In THE ROAD, McCarthy demonstrates just how terrible and wonderful human beings can be. In DARKNESS AT NOON, Koestler chronicles a slowly unfolding nightmare, and while the political backdrop and social commentary matter, I just see those as further examples of the great potential the genre possesses.

“I suppose this is why I want the genre to be more inclusive rather than exclusive. No, everything is not a horror novel, but horror is far more than a vampire or a mummy or a crazed backwoods cannibal.” ###

Agreed. It’s not about the monsters, as Stephen King once tweeted (I’m sure it was in response to my blog).

Good luck to Jonathan Janz with his latest release! And, Hunter? See you in a few!

Author Tim Waggoner’s Guide to Horror

Thank you, Tim Waggoner, for posting on Samhain Publishing’s website your (extremely) short guide to horror writing! While the list may be short, it’s packed with information that I plan on using as I again fire up the burners.

I’ve long been interested in what makes a horror novel because, to me, it’s a difficult genre to define. (Here’s my take.) I think one thing we agree upon is it’s less about the monster, be it a human or supernatural villain, but the terror it creates and people’s reaction to the unknown.

Here’s one of his observations that stands out to me:

Avoid clichés. Horror is about the unknown, and once a specific type of character, threat, or story structure becomes too familiar, it loses its power to engage and affect readers – especially in horror.

Noted! I’m in the early stages of writing a novel focusing on an enemy with which we’re overly familiar. The challenge is making it fresh. And it is a challenge. But a fun one. It’s on!

Courtesy: Samhain Publishing

Tim’s latest novel, The Way of All Flesh, debuted last month and adds to an already impressive catalog of work. Do check it out!

What makes a horror novel? Author Mario Acevedo answers

Part of a (hopefully) ongoing series where I ask authors to define what makes a book a true work of horror. Here’s my definition.

Full disclosure, Mario Acevedo, author of, among other fine works, Werewolf Smackdown and The Nymphos of Rocky Flats, kindly endorsed my book, The Dark Servant (Samhain Publishing; Nov. 4, 2014). He’s been awesome enough to be the first author to offer his definition of the genre he loves.

Courtesy: Mario’s website!

“I once heard Tom Monteleone give a speech in which he defined ‘horror’ as the best and most honest genre in literature. Horror–good horror–must creep you out, it must make the hairs rise on your arms and get you to double-check the locks. Go too far with the tropes and it becomes camp. So horror is not about setting, period, or characters (i.e., supernatural monsters) but the ability to creep you out.”

Short and to the point! (Unlike my definition.)

Review: The Devil’s Woods, by Brian Moreland

Brian Moreland’s The Devil’s Woods includes on both the cover copy and within book’s text the phrase “Fear wears many skins.”

Courtesy, Brian Moreland’s website. Thanks, Brian!

“That makes no sense,” was my first thought while ruminating over the phrase’s possible meaning, which doesn’t become clear until well into the book. But when it does, the payoff smacks you in the face–“Ah, so that’s it!”–and rolls through the final chapters of this ghost/monster/serial murder story. Yes, it’s all of those things creatively blended together.

The hero, Kyle, a Seattle-based Cree Indian from Sort-of America (Canada), along with his brother, sister, and their significant others, visits his grandfather and a family friend on the Cree reservation in the Canadian wilds. Not only has Kyle’s father gone missing while exploring the Devil’s Woods around the reservation, we learn people, mainly young women, have been vanishing from the area for more than a century. Now, with a title like The Devil’s Woods, you figure there’s a monster running around in there somewhere. And there is. (Oops! Was that a spoiler? I think it was. But if you didn’t see it coming …)

But what the creature is, how it operates, and, more specifically, why, makes the book compelling. Moreland paces the answers to leave the reader satisfied. He builds up to them by effectively developing Kyle (a tortured soul who sees ghosts), brother Eric (an arrogant lawyer [go figure] who openly flirts with other women while on vacation with his girlfriend Jessica), and Jessica (a sweet Aussie who’s conflicted over her feelings for Eric and someone else on the trip). Those are some notable characters but by no means all of them. The group of youngsters soon realizes they’re being stalked by something while they’re living on the dilapidated Cree reservation (Curse you! Alcohol and Westward Expansion)! I couldn’t help but thinking at times that Jason Voorhees stalked the forest. No, wait, maybe something from The Howling? Or Predator? Honestly, I had no idea what it was, and was pleasantly surprised when I finally understood what lurks in The Devil’s Woods.

Authors have been telling “There’s something scary in the woods” stories since man first chiseled bears onto cave walls. So, what new twist can it possibly be given after all of this time? Moreland slyly accomplishes it. My only gripe is that the book seemed slow at first, but once the action gets going, it’s a juggernaut, one you’ll want to finish reading despite it being 1 a.m. and having to work the next day.

Book Review of Dust Devils by Jonathan Janz

Courtesy: Samhain Publishing

Jonathan Janz has a way with words (sometimes requiring me to grab a dictionary), but that’s okay! His story, Dust Devils, set in New Mexico in the 1880s, chronicles the journey of Cody, a vengeful young man whose wife is slaughtered by a troupe of vampires masquerading as actors.

Thank God Janz subscribes to the notion that vampires are evil creatures that torment and murder without remorse. Teenage girls looking for forlorn, pasty-skinned vampires who’ve never had a pimple and who attend high school to blend in will find no sanctuary here.

It would be simplistic and a disservice to say Dust Devils, released earlier this year by Samhain Horror, is a tale of one man seeking revenge on those who wronged him. It’s a story that touches on the definition of masculinity in a harsh world (harsh to Cody even before the vampires entered his life). It’s also a love story between father and son, husband and wife. It’s a story about loss (be it a marriage or a loved one) and how best to cope with it. This makes Cody a man with feeling, a man who tries to fight back tears but can’t–and this separates him from cookie-cutter Western heroes whose only characteristic is ruggedness and who view women merely as subordinates. Janz does a fine job creating characters you root for (many times I found myself thinking, “How the hell is Cody going to get out of this mess this time?”). Janz also writes his vampires so you root against them. By and large they’re not tragic, fallen figures (although even here Janz may surprise you a teensy bit) and will kill just as soon as look at you.

Janz cites Cormac McCarthy as an influence, and I found myself thinking of “Blood Meridian” a time or two. I enjoyed Dust Devils infinitely more, primarily because I didn’t stumble upon any unwieldy McCarthy-like sentences like this:

“The riders spurred their horses to gallop toward a merciless sun that scorched the outlaws’ grimy skin but they paid it no mind as all but the frontriding Judge inhaled the dirt kicked rearward by the horse ahead and they were fine with it because none of the filibusterers had eaten anything to nourish their bellies other than gecko skewed from mouth to anus and spit-rotated until the flesh blistered and cracked but all the men had to admit inhaling hoof-flung dirt and confused insects paled in comparison to devouring gecko meat that tasted even better with a paprika mix that Toadvine somehow conjured and the Kid rejoiced eating as it reminded him of something the obese whore Wilma cooked up for him before they slaughtered the Comanches and scalped the heads of the dead and suffering living caring not for the pain inflicted valuing only the money they would be paid for their ungodly toil.”

But I digress. Dust Devils isn’t just for fans of the vampire or Western genres, it can be read and enjoyed by fans of literary fiction who don’t mind a splash (sometimes big ones) of blood here and there.

What makes a horror novel?

Cincinnati-based Samhain Publishing oversees the division for which I write: Samhain Horror.

So, does this make me a horror writer? I honestly don’t consider myself to be one.

What is horror as a genre? Whenever I go into the local Barnes & Noble (sorry, there’s no independent bookstore near where live—gee, why would that be?) I can’t find a horror section. It’s lumped in with fiction/literature. (In fairness, thrillers are treated the same way, but they’re generally easier to define.)

I think true horror can be discerned by Justice Potter Stewart’s method of spotting porn: “I know it when I see it.” (No, I’m not suggesting there’s a moral equivalence here. I simply believe defining horror can be tricky.)

Salem’s Lot? Horror!

(Courtesy: the Internet)

Dead Until Dark? Hor—wait. I mean, there’s a vampire or two in it, but it’s not exactly scary.

Twilight? Not even close to being horror, despite all those pale-skinned blood suckers and shirtless Native American werewolves.

How do you define Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein? Horror or Science Fiction? I’d lean more toward the latter.

The inclusion of mythical monsters or supernatural elements doesn’t necessarily define a work as horror. Then it must be the feelings the stories generate within the reader. We get scared! But thrillers are scary, right? They inspire dread, too. Silence of the Lambs is considered a psychological thriller, and not horror.

Honestly, when someone suggests a book is horror, I immediately think overwhelming blood, guts and gore. But that’s simplistic. While it’s true horror can have heaps of gore, it’s not necessary to scare. (It’s like comedians using profanity to get laughs: Good stand-up comics don’t need to work blue.) Salem’s Lot lacked gore and ranks as one of my favorite books.

So what makes it an absolute horror novel to me?

The book must:

1. Consistently evoke feelings of terror/dread/hopelessness;

2. Convey a sense of ever-present creepiness;

3. Be set no further back than the 19th Century and not in the too-distant future (anything that’s set hundreds of years in the future and involves vampires [Justin Cronin’s The Passage] strikes me more as sci-fi/supernatural thriller than horror);

and contain at least one of the following:

A. Supernatural and/or undead creatures, humans, and/or entities (e.g., werewolves, zombies, witches, ghosts) that are deliberately written to be scary, vicious and predatory and not created to make teenage girls swoon. They’ll kill you if they catch you. (Sure, they might toy with you for a little while. But eventually you’re dead.) Vampires are supposed to be terrifying, dammit—not insipid Robert Pattinsons.

B. Non-supernatural killers (e.g., humans, wildlife, diseases not originating from outer space) tormenting innocent people, with as little police involvement as possible. Too many police officers or mysterious government agents gets you too close to thriller territory for me. Sure, police can be involved, but not in every chapter. It helps if the main protagonist isn’t an agent of the law.

True horror novels, to me, cannot involve extraterrestrial beings or technology, and cannot be set in the old West and/or involve cowboys. Sorry, you’re either too close to science fiction and/or westerns.

We all have our own standards by which we judge things. And when it comes to horror, the aforementioned ones are mine. But when you think about it, in the grand scheme of life this discussion is about as relevant as attempting to determine the greatest baseball player of all time (Babe Ruth).