Undead Anonymous

You wake up on Wednesday morning after a restless night with a cold inflating your head and dripping down the back of your throat.  You pump yourself full of Emergen-C and Day-Quil, then catch the 6:30AM Super Shuttle to SFO for a flight to Denver.  After a two-hour layover in Denver and a vegetarian burger on a crunchy role with questionable tomatoes and limp lettuce, you climb aboard a subway car disguised as an airplane for the two hour flight to Winnipeg, Canada.

You land in Winnipeg and, on the cab ride to the hotel, you look out the windows and see condemned buildings and vacant lots and people shuffling along the sidewalk in a daze and you think, “If the zombie apocalypse started here, no one would notice.”

You check into your hotel, grab some questionable sushi, meet a few of the volunteers and invited guests from the convention, then call it an early night so you can get some sleep.  At 1:50AM, you’re woken up by the couple in the next room having wall pounding sex and you realize the walls are as thin as the Bush Administration’s reasons for invading Iraq.

The next day you realize this convention is going to be very small.  Maybe 50 people if everyone brings in a homeless person from the crime-ridden streets.  And you’re wondering if you’ve wasted $1000 on airfare and hotel.  But then you get to spend time with the volunteers and guests and you realize this is going to be a different kind of convention.

You enjoy a reading by Conrad Williams from his new novel ONE and a panel about the unique writing journey of Edo van Belkom.  You have drinks at the hotel bar with Joshua Gee and F. Paul Wilson, who not only both enjoy the TV series LOST but who help judge the Gross Out Contest, which you hosted.

You host a panel and have a reading and sell all six copies of your novel (which you told customs were just samples and not for sale).  You take cold medicine that contains pseudoephredrine, the main ingredient in crystal methamphetamine.  You find out your hotel is frequented by aboriginal prostitutes.

You hang out with Rhonda Parrish (who thinks you have a good singing voice) and Gavin Hughes (who you strong-armed into reading for the Gross Out Contest).  You hang out with Kelly Young (who took compromising pictures of you) and Tommy Castillo (who won the Gross Out Contest).  You sing karaoke with these four people.  You’ve never sung karaoke before, but you manage to pull off a rendition of Sinatra’s “Fly Me To The Moon,” which isn’t as good as Kelly’s version of “Walking in Memphis” or Tommy’s version of “The Rainbow Connection” in the voice of Kermit the Frog, but you have a great time.

You go out to lunch and dinner with these people.  You hang out in the bar with them.  (Because that’s what writers do at these conventions.)  You have a conversation about surviving a post EMP Winnipeg and how you would get home during the breakdown of society and how when you leave the room to take a leak you come back to find out the hypothetical you in this scenario has just been violated.

In addition, you meet Cliff and Linda and John.  You meet Derek and Tim and Sherry.  You meet Nicole and Shad (who got engaged at the convention).  You meet Toni Stauffer and Thomas Sippos and Chris Angus and a dozen others who you fail to mention because your memory isn’t as good as you thought it was.  So you apologize to those forgotten and hope they forgive you and still buy your book.

When you leave Winnipeg on Sunday, you realize you had more fun at this convention than at perhaps any other convention and you realize you have fond memories of the murder capital of Canada.  But it still looks like the zombie apocalypse is just waiting to happen there.

Back in the spring of 2002, I was working on the re-writes of my second and third novels for submission to a couple of small press publishers in the horror community.  Each of the publishers had expressed enthusiastic interest for my novels and it looked like, after more than a decade of writing with the hopes of become a published novelist, I was finally going to realize my dreams.

But then a funny thing happened.  I started to hate what I was writing.

Both novels were of the supernatural horror variety, influenced by a steady diet of King, Straub, Koontz, and McCammon that I’d fed on as a teenager and young adult.  And although I was proud of both novels, the more time I spent re-writing them, the more I realized that I was growing to hate them.

What had once been fun had now become tedious, painful work.

So after struggling with the rewrites for several months, I told the two small presses that I wouldn’t be submitting the manuscripts and I kissed my opportunity to become a published novelist goodbye.

Then I stopped writing.

For the next year and a half I played a lot of golf and spent more time reading and playing with my dog.  I wrote a best man’s speech based on Hamlet (“To wed or not to wed, that is the question…”) and a 40th birthday poem for my wife based on The Raven (“Once upon a birthday dreary…”), but that was about it.

Sometime in the middle of all of this, I read Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk.

Although I’d seen Fight Club (one of my favorite all time films), I’d never read the novel or any of Palahniuk’s other books.  But for some reason, this novel resonated with me on a level I hadn’t previously experienced.  And when I was done, I had an “a-ha” moment.

While my three novels and four dozen short stories had all predominantly been influenced by my love of horror, I’d written a few short stories that were dark comedy with a supernatural edge to them.  But I’d never thought about writing anything other than straight horror novels.

Lullaby changed all that.

After finishing Lullaby, I began to think about turning a short story of mine into a full-length novel.  The story, “A Zombie’s Lament,” dealt with a group of zombies who attend Undead Anonymous meetings and yearn for civil rights.  About a year later, I wrote the opening scene for Breathers.

(Next entry:  M is for Maggots)

(This entry brought to you courtesy of Andy)

I supposed K could have been for Kill.  (Obvious)  Or Kidney.  (Good stuffed in mushrooms)  Or Kinky.  (Zombie sex)  Or even Kyanize, which is defined as:

to make resistant to decay by treatment with a solution of mercuric chloride

Of course, this only pertains to wood, which doesn’t help the living dead and would only cause Jerry to snicker and make some comment about “sporting wood…”

Jerry: Dude, you said “wood.”

See what I mean?  So you get the point.  In any case, none of them appealed to me or to the author, who is a bit of a shut-in and could use a trip to the Hustler Club, if you get my drift.  So we ended up going with Kibosh.

Why Kibosh?  Because of this line in Breathers:

“…being able to smell your own rotting flesh tends to put the kibosh on your belief in a divine power.”

Needless to say, zombies don’t tend to have a lot of faith in God.  You don’t see the undead shambling to the local church in their Sunday best to sing the praises of a higher intelligence.  Most of us would rather stay home and watch football.  Or curl up with a good book and a cup of tea.

Once you reanimate, you wonder what kind of God would purposely do this to you?  Never mind about the life that you’ve lost and are now forced to watch from the sidelines.  Forget about the way your dog rolls on your or the way your cats use you for a scratching post.  What you wonder is what kind of a higher intelligence would bring you back from the dead to be ridiculed and vilified and imprisoned in a zombie zoo?  Or worse, on a reality TV show?  While it’s bad enough to have to deal with the embarrassment of public sloughage, there’s nothing worse than suffering through the indignities of putrefaction on network television.

It’s enough to turn even the most devout believers into skeptics, so it’s not surprising that zombies can tend to get a little surly.  Of course, just because we have our doubts about the existence of a supreme being doesn’t mean we don’t have a conscience.  After all, when you’ve started eating human flesh, even if you’ve never believed in God or heaven, you still tend to wonder about eternal damnation.

(Next entry:  L is for Lullaby)

So on Zombie Talk Thursdays on Twitter (#zombietalk), the question posed today was:

What songs would you listen to while battling the zombie hordes?

Naturally, since Breathers is written from the viewpoint of the aforementioned and often-maligned zombie hordes, it’s not second nature for me to think about what songs would be appropriate for dispatching of the undead.  But I came up with the following playlist, along with a brief description of why I included each song:

“Down With the Sickness” by Richard Cheese
Both this cover version and the original version by Disturbed appear in the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead. I like this one because it would a nice, surreal, lounge music feel to the mayhem.

“The Man Comes Around” by Johnny Cash
Also on the soundtrack to the remake of Dawn of the Dead, this is a prophetic song for a zombie apocalypse.

“Comanche” by The Revels
From the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, this is the song that plays when Bruce Willis take his samurai sword to Zed and his pawn shop pervert pal. Enough said.

“Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC
The opening guitar riff is enough to put me in the mood to pick up an axe and start swinging.

“Dead Man’s Party” by Oingo Boingo
Just to add a little irony to the playlist.

“Brain Stew” by Green Day
Mostly I love the title, but the steady bass beat and the scratchy, dissonant sounds at the end are the perfect aural accompaniment to using a chainsaw.

“Subtract You” by Zebrahead
While the title is appropriate for dispatching the undead, the song itself is fun and playful. And who doesn’t want to have fun when you’re killing zombies?

“No More Mr. Nice Guy” by Alice Cooper
Another well-titled addition to the playlist. After all, you can’t be George Baily and kick some zombie butt.

“Surrender” by Cheap Trick
Like “Subtract You,” this title has the attitude that you’re not backing down. Plus it’s got that uptempo beat that makes getting splattered brains and blood not such a big deal.

And finally, for those lovers committed to battling the zombies together:

“Never Tear Us Apart” by INXS

What are some of the songs in your zombie battle playlist?

You can follow me on Twitter @s_g_browne.  Or follow Andy on Twitter @AndytheZombie.

A conversation between Andy, the main character in Breathers, and Jerry, his best friend…

Andy: Jerry is a twenty-one-year-old car crash victim with an exposed brain and very little self awareness.

Jerry: (Waving)  Hey.

Andy: They can’t see you, Jerry.  This isn’t on television.

Jerry: Oh.  (Simulates masturbation)  So they can’t see this?

Andy: (ignoring Jerry) A fifth of Jack Daniels, half a dozen bong hits, no seat belt, a utility pole, and bad judgment on a right-hand turn sent Jerry through the windshield of his cherry red 1974 Charger and skidding along River Street on his face.

Jerry: Road rash city.

Andy: Which is how he ended up as a member of Undead Anonymous.

Jerry: Total bummer.

Andy: Yes.  But maybe you wouldn’t be a zombie if you would have exercised a little more common sense behind the wheel of your car.

Jerry: Dude, you fell asleep while driving home from a party and like, totally killed your wife.

(Sound of crickets chirping)

Jerry: Sorry dude.  That was harsh.

Andy: It’s okay.  At least I don’t wear my baseball hat sideways and my pants halfway down my ass.

Jerry: (hiking up his pants)  It’s the style, dude.  The chicks dig it.

Andy: Breather women don’t dig undead, decomposing slackers.

Jerry: Yeah, but there’s some totally hot zombie chicks out there who are interested in a good stiffy.

Andy: You’re referring to your permanent, post-mortem erection.

Jerry: Terminal boner, dude.

Andy: Jerry fancies himself a ladies man among zombies.

Jerry: (popping a couple of peppermint Altoids)  Curiously strong.

Andy: Yeah, well, they’ll have to be more than curious to have an impact on your breath.

Jerry: Or I could go around wearing women’s make-up like you.

Andy: I think we’re done here.

Jerry: (removing his hat and leaning forward) Dude, you wanna touch my brain?

(Next entry:  K is for ???  Send me your suggestions)

No.  The title of this blog entry does NOT refer to the Facebook application where you can build an army of zombies and vampires and fight other zombies and vampires to become bigger and stronger.  I stopped playing months ago because I just didn’t have enough time to keep feeding my zombie and taking care of it.  But apparently, in my absence, my zombie has become a Level 6 Samurai.  I have no idea how that happened.

But I digress.

Zombies vs vampires.

I’ve always been a zombie fan.  Ever since I saw Romero’s original Night of the Living Dead on Creature Features back when I was in 6th grade. I even used to dream about them chasing me or surrounding my house or doing my taxes.  And I will admit that I enjoy the fast moving zombies as well as the shuffling ones.  They’re both terrifying in their own way.

Vampires?  They’re okay, if you want an immortal, supernatural creature with superhuman strength and the ability to shape shift.  I don’t have anything personally against vampires, I’ve just never been that enamored with them.

For the most part, fans are either in one camp or the other.  At least most of the zombie and vampire fans I know.  But I like to generalize, so for the sake of me being right, we’re sticking to this argument for the time being.  You don’t get a lot of fans straddling the fence, loving zombies AND vampires.  And there’s a good reason for this.

Vampires are like fraternity boys.  All pretty and full of themselves and constantly trying to get you into bed.  They primp and they pose and they get all dressed up to go out for a night of partying.  Every move the make, all the posturing they do, is just a smoke screen to lure you in so that they can feed on you.  Drink your blood.  (Okay, maybe not the vampires in From Dusk Till Dawn or The Lost Boys, but your stereotypical vampire, sure.)

They’re insincere.  Hiding their true motives.  Bullshitters.

Zombies, on the other hand, don’t try to impress you with their good looks or their charms or their fancy outfits.  They don’t pretend to be something they’re not.  They wear their decomposing hearts on their sleeves and aren’t ashamed to say, “I’m a zombie and I want to eat your brains.”

I admire that in a monster.  Plus, they’re tragically comical.  Shuffling along, losing their hair and teeth and nails and the occasional appendage.  Add the fact that they used to be us, that we could all become them one day, and it creates a sense of empathy that, ultimately, was the reason I wrote Breathers in the first place.

So how about it?  Zombies or vampires?  Which camp are you in?  Or do you go both ways?

“Up until about three weeks after death, the internal organs of a corpse can still be identified.  After that, the internal organs turn to chicken soup.”

The previous culinary analogy was something I gleaned from a wonderful book titled STIFF: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach.  From STIFF, I also learned about cadaver impact testing, that unembalmed dead people basically dissolve, and that when maggots feast on the subcutaneous fat of a corpse, it sounds like Rice Krispies.

Snap, crackle, pop.

Throw in the fact that marshmallow is made from gelatin, which is derived from the collagen inside the skin and bones of pigs and cows, and suddenly those Rice Krispie treats don’t sound so appetizing.

In addition to the helpful tidbits of information I found in STIFF, I read an enlightening on-line article by Dr. Trisha Macnair about human decomposition that explained how, in the tropics, a corpse can become a moving mass of maggots within twenty-four hours.

Both of these sources helped me to add a visceral reality to Andy’s world that I couldn’t have made up.

I think it’s impossible to write a work of fiction without doing some research.  I don’t know about other writers, but I’m not a bottomless source of information, so I need some help when my imagination fails me. And adding some facts to the fiction makes the story more believable.

When I write, the story typically unfolds as I’m writing it, so I don’t always know what research I’ll need to do until it becomes apparent that the scene or chapter I’m writing needs some help.  Like the scene where Andy discusses the different types of wine he’s consuming (I’m a Boddington’s man).  Or the chapter where Andy’s mother helps him apply make-up.

In addition to researching what happens to human bodies post mortem, I read the TV Guide to make sure I knew what programs were on and when, visited an on-line wine store to improve Andy’s beverage selection in his parents wine cellar, hung out in the Soquel Cemetery for a couple of hours with a notepad, and studied up on the different shades and brands of Rita’s lipstick.  I also read up on how to preserve game meat, who’s involved in a television production crew, what people have as their first memory, and how to apply concealer, foundation, and contouring powder.

I’m sure I’ve made some errors in my research.  Although I am a man, occasionally I do make mistakes.  But I had a lot of fun blending fact and fiction to create the world in which Breathers exists and try to make it believable.

(Next entry:  J is for Jerry)

So last week my marketing manager at Random House presented my with the opportunity to contribute a blog to a web site called Largehearted Boy, which is, per the web site:

“a music blog featuring daily free and legal music downloads as well as news from the worlds of music, literature, and pop culture.”

One of the ways the site blends literature and music is in their Book Notes series, where authors create and discuss a music playlist that in some way relates to their recently published novel.

I’d never really thought about creating a playlist for Breathers, but once I got going, it seemed like a natural fit. Plus I had a lot of fun.

Check out the Breathers Playlist and let me know what you think.

In other fun news, USA Today did an online and print article on the front page of the Life section titled, “Zombies lurch into popular culture.”

Read the article.

Personally, I like the print version better because the cover of Breathers is included, whereas it’s left out in the online version.  But it’s not like I’m complaining.  Okay, maybe a little.

What’s also great about the article is that it plugs several other zombie novels, including three by some YA authors I’ve become friends with through the magic of the Internet:  Carrie Ryan (The Forest of Hands and Teeth), Amanda Ashby (Zombie Queen of Newbury High), and Stacey Jay (You Are So Undead To Me).

Check ‘em out!  And look for the zombie round-up of fiction in the April 20 issue of TIME.

AJ Eberly from the land of hotmail asks:

Has there been any talk from Hollywood about turning your memoirs into a feature film? I know I’m just dying to see it. Who do you think could “breathe” unlife into you the best?

Actually, yes.  There has been talk of turning my memoirs into a feature film.  More than just talk.  Fox Searchlight Films, a division of 20th Century Fox, has acquired the film rights to Breathers to be co-produced by Diablo Cody and Mason Novick, with Geoff Latulippe on board to write the screenplay.

They’re pretty cool for a trio of Breathers, though I haven’t met Diablo Cody yet.  Whenever I bring it up, Rita gets upset.  I get the feeling she’s a little jealous.

As for who could “breathe” unlife into me on the silver screen?  I’m sure there are a number of quality Breathers out there I’m leaving off the list, but I don’t get to the movies much since we’re not allowed in movie theaters and my parents didn’t splurge for On-Demand.

Still, I could see Jason Segel or Jake Gyllenhaal playing me.  Anne Hathaway could play Rita, with James Franco as Jerry.  I’d love to see Christopher Walken as Ray.  Or maybe Steve Buscemi, though he could play Carl or Tom.  And I think Bruce Campbell would be great as my dad.

Which makes me wonder, who do YOU think should play me or Rita or Jerry or anyone else in the film version of Breathers?

Okay, so I’m about three weeks late with posting this interview on Fangoria.com, which was actually my first live interview.  I realized how much I ramble when speaking live to someone rather than having the chance to actually take the time to craft my answers in a written interview format.  Which is why writers need editors.

The interview was done by Matt Goodlett, who originally wanted to talk to me for a piece in the Omaha City Weekly.  I think that ran back in the second week of March.  Matt put the expanded interview on Fangoria.  I think it turned out pretty good, in spite of my rambling.  Plus they posted the YouTube link to one of the Necrobufrin videos:

Necrobufrin Kills Depression

In other news, I’m getting interviewed Tuesday by someone from the Chicago Tribune about a piece on the recent increase in all things zombie and, presumably, on Breathers.  This is supposed to take place about the time I’m sitting in the rain and thunder for the Giants opening day at AT&T Park.  Then on Wednesday, a review is supposed to appear in the Style section of The Washington Post.

After that, a zombie trend story that will include Breathers is scheduled appear in the Thursday, April 9 issue of USA Today.  And TIME magazine will be including Breathers in a zombie book round-up currently set to run in the April 20 issue (on newsstands April 10).

So this week looks like it’s shaping up to be a lot of fun.  Now if only the rain will hold off until Thursday…