#435. A Stroll Around My Head

If you poke around this blog enough, you may stumble on the fact that I've got a couple of books in print, each of them self-published (as well as a short story in an anthology).  I haven't plastered Scouring Monk with images of the covers, mostly because the covers aren't terribly exciting, and I guess I suck at marketing, much less providing a coherent direction to readers trying to figure out why they should bother reading the blog in any effort to know who Tony Laplume is, besides someone who loves movies and stuff.

I published The Cloak of Shrouded Men five years ago, and have sold maybe half a dozen copies (and that's probably being generous), and in that case can it really be said to be published at all?  I'm not really good at promoting myself, and really not good about networking, because the people who really inspire me are creators who aren't looking to make friends with some anonymous bum in Colorado.  My favorite social activity is watching movies in the dark with strangers, and I'm otherwise a comedian whose only stage has been a bookstore, torturing the ears off coworkers, and besides don't really like talking so much as writing, and mostly about the things I'm passionate about.  I don't do conversation well, even at the exchange of a computer screen.

My writing tends to feel a little exclusive.  I don't write so that you can immerse yourself in a narrative so much as in someone else's mind, their experiences as they think about them more than how they actually experience them.  I wrote Shrouded Men as a superhero story where the superhero tortures himself over his failures, bad relationships, and nihilistic revenge against those who didn't share his crusade, destroying everything around him, basically, and then calling it a day, hanging up his cape, and letting the reader decide what the hell just happened.  I wrote in a number of parallels to stories I love, or were influenced by at the time, and besides family members the one outside reaction I got said it reminded him of City of Heroes, an online game that I didn't and still don't see any direct relation to in the pages of the book other than the fact that they both feature superheroes.  I wonder if he even read the book.  I'm not kidding when I say that it's basically Watchmen as an internal monologue from Rorschach (with more complete sentences).  I should note that it isn't literally Watchmen, because at the time I started writing it, I had never read Watchmen, and by the time I finished writing it, there's no way I was writing about anything else but the mad crusade of Cotton Colinaude, the Eidolon (a name I came across in a Hart Crane poem, "Legend," which should one day rightfully take its place in the book's pages), who gains and loses scores of allies, but most of them are already in his past by the time the story begins, with only glimpses of his erstwhile glory days sprinkled throughout.

Last week I published Monorama, and unless I start learning, I will probably sell as many copies, and maybe by the time Yoshimi is published, if Hall Bros. Entertainment ends up liking what it reads, I will start selling a few more books.  Monorama is a collection of esoteric short stories, mostly in a science fiction vein, but in the same basic style as what can be found in Shrouded Men (this is exactly what I referenced a few weeks ago, when I went out of my way to potentially alienate some of the folks who might have cared from my time writing here at Scouring Monk).  I figured I might as well make it available, in case more digestible chunks of this kind of writing may go down more easily.   


I've been a lot less active in my blogs the past couple weeks than usual, even here, certainly since the grind of A-to-Z, perhaps because all that activity is finally catching up with me, or I'm more depressed about being jobless again than I thought I was, or I'm depressed that I still don't really have a significant amount of readers, even if I keep telling myself that I don't care, that the act of writing does not demand the act of reading, because I want to be able to make a living on my own terms, especially as it seems increasingly that I maybe can't do it on anyone else's.

Act of writing does not demand the act of reading...?  I'm an eager reader, maybe not a fast one, but an eager reader all the same, and I have been all my life, and I still feel as if I've only read a quarter of what I should have by now.  If I could make a living reading, I would.  Some people do that, and they do so grudgingly, either as submission readers or as reviewers, and because almost no one actually reads and most publicity is self-publicity in this version of the world, most readers never really know what anyone else is reading.  I guess that's one reason to care about Good Reads, or wish that I was back at least in the break room at Borders, where some people still did this crazy thing.

If I had the ambition, I would absolutely transform this blog into a record of everything I find interesting and would love to share with everyone, and perhaps that's something I will still do, or perhaps create a new blog and try to have a go at it (this one currently mixes "mouldwarp" in the URL and Scouring Monk in the title, and never the twain do they meet).

Anyway, as a writer and as a person and as a blogger, I guess I may have some improving to do, not the least figuring out how all those identities merge.

#421. Excerpt from The Cloak of Shrouded Men

I self-published The Cloak of Shrouded Men in 2007 after having written its three acts during NaNoWriMo from 2004-06.  The evolution of the story can be traced backward here, but the short version of it is that it features Cotton Colinaude, a native of Maine who found his way to Traverse, AL, where he became the vigilante known as the Eidolon (a word meaning phantom or ideal, and is also associated with idol; and is in fact pronounced pretty much like that).  The first act deals with the influences on his career, both the ones that shaped it and the ones that eventually tear it apart.  The second act is about the rebuilding process, and the third is about tearing it down again, in the hope of finally getting it right.  It's metaphysical and hard-hitting and deeply personal, but it's a lot more like Watchmen or The Dark Knight than it is The Avengers.

Some of the writers I was influenced by at the time included Mark Waid (who went a long way to dominating my comic book experience to that point in his brilliant work on The Flash, including the seminal Return of Barry Allen arc which has less to do with Barry Allen and more to do with Wally West) and Herman Melville (thanks to The Confidence-Man), though my spheres of influence widened by the later installments, heavily falling on Oliver Stone's Alexander and the Trojan War, for instance, as well as the Bhagavad Gita.

So eventually I finished writing it, and had been planning to self-publish even before it was concluded, and so that's what I did.  It was originally going to be called The Heroic Ideal, but I settled on the more ambiguous Cloak of Shrouded Men, with a slightly more evocative-for-the-genre Escapades of the Eidolon, Cotton Colinaude subtitle, because it caught the mood of the story better.  The problems I caught after publication I didn't anticipate, and that was my inability, and the publisher's disinterest in helping, to catch all the grammatical errors.  It's something that still haunts me, and is one of the reasons why I've been cautious since then and certainly less interested in the self-publishing route that has actually become increasingly popular in recent years (it's a good bet that most of the people who will read this have at least contemplated if not done it already), especially on the digital front.

Some writers say the first book is a learning experience that may be better left tucked away.  I'm proud of what I accomplished in Cloak of Shrouded Men.  It's exactly the statement on superheroes that I hoped it to be, the flipside of every adventure where the hero somehow gets over their latest traumatic event and moves on and generally does not experience any growth or ramifications from their actions, and not just in characters written by many writers, but even those envisioned by a single creator.  The Dark Knight had not happened yet.  Even Frank Miller's Dark Knight Returns refuses to offer definitive consequences.  Batman becomes a legend.  Even Alan Moore's Watchmen is ambiguous.  The Eidolon definitely reaches a conclusion by the end of the book.  It's only his future, and his own understanding of it, that remains a mystery, but there are mirror characters in the story that suggest where he might be headed, because they've already shared this fate.

Anyway, even though the whole thing in its original form is still available on the Internet, here's an excerpt:

“I bid you clear waters,” Godsend said.  Once again, he was gone, as if he was never there.  If anything had ever bonded the Terrific Tandem immutably together, it had been their mutual defiance of reality, of the senses.  There were senses now Colinaude wished he didn’t have.  His last task before the Cad was to visit Cassie.  After having dropped her off here originally, he had made the journey to the Traverse Tracks building, where he made one last tarry with Peter Cooley’s office.  There on his desk was Hopper’s paper, the one that had told Cooley everything he already knew, in considerably greater detail.  Colinaude thought about how he had needed to work at retrieving Hopper’s notes in a new copy after leaving that one behind, discovering all the Cad’s appointments for himself, not needing Cooley after all.  Perhaps he never had.  Perhaps Cooley had never even decoded Hopper’s work.  Perhaps, in the end, Cooley had never helped Colinaude at all.

     It was an unpleasant thought.  Colinaude had searched the rest of Cooley’s office, finding in a locked drawer the photos he would give Godsend, the only evidence that there was more to Cooley than met the eye.  Had Colinaude not trusted Cooley, if he had made this sweep before and discovered these photos, he might have saved himself heartache.  It was probably the reason the photos were there to begin with.  Cooley had wanted him to find them, to learn the truth earlier.  It had been a test; one of many Colinaude had failed.

     Returning to the roof of the hospital after retrieving from No.33 Cobb Lane the beacon, he knew he had left Cassie alone for a very long time.  He knew every word he spoke with Godsend only delayed longer his return to her side.  He was afraid to see her again, as if the ghost of the Cotton from Stonewine Alley would be waiting instead of a broken woman who had trusted in him, believed in him.

     He entered the sliding doors, still clad as the Eidolon, and struggled wordlessly for a moment with the desk clerk before striding past her directly to Cassie’s room.  He hesitated at the door, and then pushed in.  A solitary pulse greeted him, the only sign of life, a monotonous mockery of it.  Colinaude broke down, removed his goggles, his mask, and collapsed on the bed beside her.  For a long time, he didn’t move, didn’t breath, and didn’t think.  He couldn’t bear to.  Something stirred, however.  It was Cassie.  She lifted an arm punctured with an intravenous unit and rested it again on Colinaude.

     “Hey,” she said.

     He struggled to look up, to look at her.  “Hey,” he replied in turn.  “Left you in a bit of dire straits, I’m afraid.”

     “It was bound to happen,” she said.  “I think I was owed it.  Something you delayed.”

#420. Horses (Possibly Flogged)

I've been writing a lot lately.  When I say that, I know there are some readers who are under that general impression of me, but what I mean is that I've been writing a lot at Sigild V.  That's my rather enigmatically named writing blog, where I write things and publish them to a fairly indifferent public.  But I don't mean to sound gloomy.  I write a lot anyway, so regardless of whether it's read or not, the point is, I like writing.  These things just happen to be available should anyone be foolish enough to be interested in them.  Several weeks ago, I completed the twelve-part "Who Killed Iron Joe?," which ties in with my Space Corps saga as well as Seven Thunders, the book I'll be writing a little later this year.  I followed that up with "Back from the Dead," another twelve-part story that deals with superheroes, as does my novel Cloak of Shrouded Men, which I will be making a greater to inform theoretically curious readers about soon, including an excerpt (you'll also note that my recent expanded archiving efforts include more labels, including one that highlights all the previous times I've gone on about it).  Both of these were done a chapter a day for twelve days.

Now I'm working on "Roadkill Cafe," a story I began earlier this year and am now going to be completing.  It's about humans and their relationship to animals (and sometimes flies), mostly cats and dogs (but sometimes foxes), and is sort of a light metaphysical fable, because that's the kind of stuff I sometimes write.  I've written several variations on a similar dog story (and if you explore all those links I provide you on the right, you might find one version of it, though it was never completed), but I'll be happy when this one's completed.  It's another twelve-part story, but has already gone well beyond twelve days (by several months), so it's just twelve chapters.  I kind of figure I should look for publishers a little more than I do (the Insecure Writers Group would love to hear more), but for now, Sigild is what I need.

I'm still writing "Star Trek '12" there, too.  I'm thinking of concluding the "DC Decades" project following "Roadkill Cafe."  I think I had a reader or two interested in that.

I'm still working on the Star Trek Fan Companion over at Fan Companion, too.  I'm still plugging away at episodes of Voyager, still in the second season, still trying to bring a fresh perspective to the franchise, maybe make a few things clearer than they've been (if you don't believe that, then you should read this review of "Threshold").  I'm still hoping that interest in these Star Trek thoughts will find an audience.

Comics Reader has an audience, and I think it's growing.  Anyway, I wish I could devote more time to it.  I'm currently slogging away at Essential X-Men Vol. 2, where I recently discovered the Factor Three epic from Roy Thomas may be an unacknowledged inspiration for X-Men: First Class.  Such things to discover!

And yes, I'm still doing poetry at Epistles from the New Fade, where I'm making a strong push toward a hundred poems, after some lulls in activity recently.  Thirty to go!

#249. Pro Wrestling Illustrated, Projects, Inception

#249.

So I ended up subscribing to Pro Wrestling Illustrated, a move I was somewhat reluctant to make, but the PWI 500 is coming up and they've apparently put A.J. Styles on top (a good move). Wal-Mart (at least my local one) stopped carrying the magazine, and I think the subscription price was half off, so it seemed not entirely crazy at the time. I guess I'll find out.

I also got the Ricky Steamboat DVD (at said Wal-Mart), so I look forward to watching that, and got to watch some Raw on Telemundo today, so I guess it was good a time as any to lead off another blog with wrestling.

I've got a comic brewing tentatively called Corridor that is serving as my latest hope at breaking in. Who knows? I'm still trying to sell Finnegan, or The Second Coming (though for what it's worth my mom seemed less enthusiastic about this one than she did about Cloak of Shrouded Men, and so has my older sister, who has been extremely reluctant about reading it, but this one's a lot more cerebral, philosophical than even the first book was). And I'm still writing poetry.

I've taken to the idea that it's better to live in one's own reality than to try and impose yourself on someone else's. It's almost the message of Inception, so I'm not entirely crazy. Or maybe I am.

Time will tell?

#205. Fall in Their Place, Finnegan, Cloak of Shrouded Men

#205

Well, I did it. I finished up Fall in Their Place last Friday (yeah, I'd been hoping to trick the last one out in the wee hours of Saturday, but because I'm lazy with my time zones here at Scouring Monk, I was thwarted, dear reader), and compiled the initial edit of the collection later that same night. It ended up being the longest of the three blog collections to date, which was kind of frightening, because the thing I hope to submit it to wanted up to 100 pages, not past it. Maybe they'll compromise in the face of greatness...

Anyway, yesterday I accomplished another writing milestone by completing the first draft of the Conformists outline. That company wants five pages, so I'll need to trick out some more words.

It's funny, because I've got my older sister all excited about Finnegan, and The Cloak of Shrouded Men seems to be picking up an inch of steam, pimped as it is by said sister at work and by another friend recently as well.

I picked up some great deals on WWE and TNA collections recently, and that'll be the subject of the next post...

#202. Conformists, Cloak of Shrouded Men, Finnegan

#202

Just a quick note on another project, the ongoing Conformists comic book effort. Recently I came up with the big idea behind the team, and have decided it'd be worth to try and put a package together that could be submitted to publishers who're willing to take such things from writers (thank you, Caleb Monroe). I've got twelve characters now, and a tie-in with my book, Cloak of Shrouded Men, just as Finnegan: Line of the Dead incorporates Oliver Row, who was featured in a number of projects from the time the Conformists were first dreamed up at Digital Webbing...

#200. Finnegan, Cloak of Shrouded Men, Poetry

#200

In the very special 200th post here at Scouring Monk (funny, because I'm approaching 300 entries in my poetry blogs in far less time), I've got an update for the Theoretical Reader on my book-in-progress Finnegan - The Line of the Dead. I've had the framework ready for months, chapter titles stolen from the lyrics of U2 songs and a general idea of the story, but today, I sketched out all 72 chapters, which is a huge step forward, one that flowed out relatively quickly. From this point, I may expand the sketches further, or simply wait for inspiration to strike on actually writing it. I have the inspiration of Shadow from Lower Decks and his 100 days 100 100-word stories project he's been working on as a kick in the pants.

Also, because I still like to think of Cloak of Shrouded Men as my baby (and having recently recovered the Paperback Reader revision -which never saw publication, Bart *ahem* - that hopefully cleaned up all the ridiculous typographical mistakes from the iUniverse print), it was amusing to here today that Sarah Gruen's Water for Elephants also began life as a NaNoWriMo project.

Anyway, other news includes the end destination of the current poetry blog, Fall In Ther Place will hopefully be publication, if I can just track down that contest...Seriously, this stuff couldn't lose if it was Vogon poetry. Then again...

WrestleMania 25 the DVD is on its way from WWEShop, or it isn't. I got conflicting reports. That'll be the subject of #201...

#186. Freak Out

Sort of freaked out at work and bought the four remaining copies of my book, sick from a number of things, some related to the book, some related to reasons why the economy stinks so much (read: management culture, or if you will, Dilbert). Anyway, much as part of the reason I eventually quit Paperback Reader, I got tired of the poor treatment the book got in the store, either by staff or perhaps in a final twist, by some random customer (though I doubt it).

Still excited for next month so I can get to work on the story that's going to blow the lid on my philosophy once and for all, though the spate of poetry over the past year certainly did a good job getting most of it across. Yay!

#178. Cloak of Shrouded Men Delusions

Now that We'll See has concluded (and a new project, Yes I Am Falling, ready to be mounted), I officially have four unpublished volumes of poetry, which is a pretty nice thing to have, as a renegade literary voice. My book Cloak of Shrouded Men may be in a better place than it has been since being published last July, with the release and huge success of the tonally similar Dark Knight in theaters. I'd resisted writing a "Staff Picks" blurb for it at work (Borders) despite prodding, but now I have, making the appropriate association. Maybe it makes a difference. Eh.

#165. Who Watches

Here's some rather significant news:

I've decided against writing Who Watches, at least for the moment, after all. Who Watches was going to be my NaNo last fall, but after all the delays caused by moving screwed up my momentum and I couldn't even motivate myself to try again in January, which had been the plan, I figured something about it just wasn't meant to be. It's not that I consciously decided against writing it, or will admit even now that it was in the end a bad idea, but having self-published its predecessor, The Cloak of Shrouded Men, a product of the previous three NaNos, I recently realized...Maybe my next project shouldn't be another superhero story, no matter how different this one was going to be (in fact, hardly was going to be a superhero story at all). I have to accept, even if I've sold maybe three copies, that I've got a book under my belt. It changes things. If I've got some real ambition in me, and I know I do, I've got to make my next prose project another challenge. Fortunately, I've been working on short stories which have continuously done just that, a constant tune-up (well, as constant as my writing goes), keeping me on my toes.

It's still weird to think that I've all but abandoned Who Watches, at least as it was originally conceived.

#156. Cloak of Shrouded Men in a Bookstore

A quick update, The Cloak of Shrouded Men is now in an actual bookstore! The one I work at, Borders in Colorado Springs (Southgate Rd.), but hey, the bums at my previous Borders didn't do that!

#155. Colorado Springs, Poetry, Dead Letter Quarterly, Who Watches, Other Potential Stories

When last I wrote here, I was still in Burlington, MA.

Now, I'm not!

As it turns out, I moved to Colorado Springs at the start of last November, and after a little over two months, I may be starting to get a definite feel for the place. It's weird.

Terror of Knowing has been going strong in the meantime, with a good run of poems mostly under the banner of "Metaphysics", continuing a run from October that explores my concept of the world as it is and as I've been noting more and more. Dead Letter Quarterly, read hot at the time of my last post with submissions and other activity, has been viciously derailed by ailments to both my colleagues since November, during which NaNo was not completed by any of us. Yeah, first time in four years I can say that personally. The move completely wrecked my chances, but Who Watches, a Staged Man Chronicle (a character who appeared during Cotton's War), originally set to be a shot at publishing through my employer, Borders (deadline is January 1 for submissions), will go on. At some point. It's the Douglas Adams in me!!!

Once it's done, I'm thinking of Lulu.coming it, as DLQ is supposed to be, and Apropos: An Inquisition into the New World, a sort of anthology, will follow in like regard. I've also recently completely revolutionized an old story of mine, and once I write it, Harvest, or the Book of Eli will likely follow suit as well, unless people actually start buying my books, starting with The Cloak of Shrouded Men.

I will probably write back again soon, possibly with some fresh wrestling thoughts, and may even begin the Scouring Monk Recommends Reading feaure, which has been brewing for about half a year now.

You've been warned!

#154. Cloak of Shrouded Men Subtle Plug

I've been thinking lately, have I been talking enough about my book?

#153. Watchmen, Paperback Reader, Who Watches

I'm thinking somewhat sacriligiously: I'm reading Alan Moore's Watchmen for the first time, and have thus been thinking maybe this year's NaNo, and capper to the previous three years' will be called, or subtitled Who Watches(?).

In other news, Paperback Reader has, at least for the moment, decided it doesn't actually want me to continue writing for it. Maybe not Bart himself. But definitely the site. Weird...

#150. Terror of Knowing, Cloak of Shrouded Men

For the past month now, I've been maintaining, on sixteen of those days, a separate blog entitled The Terror of Knowing. It's a new experiment of mine, the regular composing of poetry, spur of the moment pieces that I haven't given a lot of thought to, or written any real notes on (that's what I do for the majority of the poems I write, either as I've thought of them or as I plan them). Okay, so I just lied. Some of them I put a good deal of thought into before I sat down to write them. Others, less so. The blog, I guess, is really my attempt at having a regular forum. I've written at Scouring Monk over the past few years how I've compiled a few collections worth of poetry as I've written them. "Terror of Knowing" is an instant collection, with a few continuing themes (and partially inspired by Queen and/or David Bowie, at least in name), some political thought, but mostly my philosophy as it's grown and now featured in a certain book I've recently indy published (*cough* The Cloak of Shrouded Men).

I've purposely stayed away from the Monk since I started the poetry blog, but I'll be back again soon. PWI has a new 500 out next week, the #1 has already been revealed, and the fall TV season is upon us (missed Back to You last night!). If you have already, lose yourself in some of my nonsense...

#147. Buying Cloak of Shrouded Men

Oh! So, maybe if you actually want to read, Theoretical Reader, the book I've just published and the story I've been talking about (not that you haven't been reading the blogs, yes?) for the past few years. Anyhoo, Amazon is one place you can find it, but iUniverse, the publisher, certainly has it, too!

#146. Author Copies

Houston, we have the author copies of Cloak of Shrouded Men. Repeat, the book is real. The journey only begins...

#142. Cloak of Shrouded Men Proof, 2007 Draft

Oh shiiiit! I just got the proofs back on my book! First, there will be some textual corrections. Second: Cooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool!

Sorry if that seems corny to you. But it's my book! My honest-to-god, I'm-going-to-be-published-even-if-I-had-to-do-it-myself book!

Okay! Now that that's behind us, the 2007 WWE draft. And there were some big moves, from last Monday to this past Sunday's lottery picks. Raw and Smackdown each got ten, while ECW drew five less. But really, I think everyone can celebrate:

Raw

• King Booker - I really thought he was making this move two years ago, but here he's finally going. He's been played out on Smackdown, even had a lengthy championship run, and one major character change (which I hope disappears in the brand switch). He's proven that he's a valuable member of the WWE roster, no matter where he is. On Raw, maybe he won't be a top contender, but he won't be overlooked. Raw is like the big family filled with big personalities right now, where the company's attention is clearly focused. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, and you'll see why with Booker.
• Bobby Lashley - There was so much talk that Umaga was basically a part of ECW's roster that everyone overlooked the obvious: that Lashley was being groomed for the big stage. He's proven that the company's faith in him isn't wasted, that he can take big spots and run with them, even if he isn't a top performer in any category. He's game, that's what really makes him worth every penny, game for whatever's thrown at him, because he'll sell it, and still come out strong in the end. The dude lost his title to Vince McMahon. And nobody thought he lost anything, regardless of the circumstances. That's a power you can easily overlook. Well, no more.
• Snitsky - He's the kind of patented psycho monster the company loves so much, first and best embodied by Sid. He's better than when he was last on the brand. If he's used as is, he'll be another Umaga.
• Mr. Kennedy - WWE wants another big star; by placing him on Raw, the company is finally going to have him. Bottom line, end of discussion. Misssssssterrrr Kennedy!

Kennedy! John Cena? Meet your match! The champ is here!

• Paul London and Brian Kendrick - Despite the near-constant threats that if London does his flying off turnbuckles once more, his star only continues to rise. And here his team is, out of the reach of cruiserweights, which can only mean the company's confidence in them has grown. Brothers, they really are the future of the tag team.
• The Sandman - Certainly introduces a unique element to the brand, and perhaps, among all these other names, will be the one to watch, to see how he's going to be used. We know at this point that he can actually wrestle. But is that what he's going to do? One way or another, the face of ECW has changed once more, and another of its favorite sons is given the chance to break the mold. That's what this guy does, right?
• William Regal - He's besmirched! Oh, come on! You all know that's exactly what you've been waiting for!
• Jillian Hall - Even Smackdown's Divas graduate to Raw. There goes another! Sing, baby, sing!

Smackdown

• The Great Khali - Somebody for Mark Henry to feud with. And possibly Batista. There's still life left in this giant, and opportunities.
• Torrie Wilson - Never seemed at home on Raw, anyway. Welcome home!
• Chris Masters - And here, finally, we see Smackdown's achievement. Masters is clearly being shifted so he can have a chance to shine, outside the clutter. There was just no room for him on Raw, and it was only going to get worse. On Smackdown, with its more intimate setting, superstars are free to be as big as they can be, and be celebrated as much as for what they do as for who they are. Masters can do that here, but...
• Ric Flair - ...can do it better! Who better than Naitch? Wooo! And, really, hasn't this been natural all along?
• Kenny Dykstra - Same deal as Masters. Raw prepared him, but now he needs Smackdown to go the rest of the way. It's ironic, that Smackdown develops the next generation superstars in some respects, while nurturing others left suffering at the same time. It's the paradox of Friday nights.
• Hardcore Holly - Imagine this guy in a feud with Finlay. Wooo!
• The Major Brothers - Uh, new contenders for Deuce & Domino's tag titles!
• Victoria - Really intrigued by this one, to see where she's going to go on this brand, where the Divas don't wrestle as much as they give attitude. Hey, wait, in some respects, that's Victoria! So, save your knees!
• Eugene - A wrestling savant. He's like Smackdown personified!

ECW

• The Boogeyman - Kevin Thorne, meet the thorn in you side. Worms intended.
• Chris Benoit - Ever since Kurt Angle jumped ship (alas! only this title eluded you!), this brand's been looking for the kind of fully-functional star who can take the extreme in every degree, who will develop what's there and make every look good in the process. Now, just imagine the first Benoit-CM Punk match...
• Viscera - The 2007 ECW Show!
• The Miz - Be it Hardcore Holly or Rene Dupree, ECW's been quietly attempting to rehabilitate careers for superstars who've been unfairly kicked to the curb (carrying on a company tradition, in fact). Guess what, Mizfits? This guy's in that category, too.
• Johnny Nitro - This is perhaps the most interesting draft choice of all. Why Nitro? Why ECW? He may be the missing piece of the puzzle on this brand, that's why, that's what.

And just like that, you understand that WWE is one company that knows how to make a few smart moves. When they aren't exploding people.

#141. Cloak of Shrouded Men Editing, A.C. Hall, Paperback Reader, Books, Wrestling

Well...I suppose updating once a month is better than...nothing?

Anyhoo, Cloak of Shrouded Men has kicked and screamed through its final revisions (I hate that stuff! even when it produces necessary and beneficial changes!), meaning it's that much closer to being published via iUniverse, which I can't be more excited about. I keep entertaining myself with all the possibilities of how great people are gonna think it is. I'm so happy for myself! Still haven't heard back about The Jingle Jangle, but I can be patient sometimes, really! Though I really hope to hear positive word on it...

One way or another, I'm still writing. A.C. Hall, a fellow columnist at Paperback, has invited me to contribute a story for a fiction anthology his other haunt, Stumblebum Studios, will be putting out, and based on the theme, I've cobbled together something about a time-traveling Nicola Tesla, whom I last encountered in Christopher Nolan's superb The Prestige (to see my ideas of good movies, be sure to stop by the Observation Lounge at Lower Decks, which has now completely segued from a Star Trek site to a general genre lair, which I've become comfortable with; I'm working on a flashbacks feature for Lost, the first thing I'll have done in relation to that site since a 40th anniversary Star Trek story last fall, the first in a potential series, if I have the time). And I think I'm closer to writing a poem worthy of 9/11 (after all those anniversary pieces were lost in the Great Crash of '05) and the Iraq war, to be called "'Cause You Want to Believe She's Infallible." I can't wait to find the time...

Speaking of Paperback Reader, the recent return of a past contributor, along with a site redesign by operator Bart Gerardi, has me thinking again how much I appreciate my ongoing work there. It's made me that much more engaged in the landscape of comic books, and given me a regular platform to write about them, even if my reviews have slowed to a trickle, though the weekly column persists. I was set to write two reviews, and I've been on the computer long enough now, this evening, but the column only seems to command those thoughts more and more, now that my commitment to 52 is over (I reviewed every issue of that breakthrough weekly DC series). If you can't find me here, chances are you can always find me there!

Or at work. Sometimes, it seems that's what I do, besides eat and sleep. But I read, too! And at the bookstore, I keep finding more things I won't be getting around to reading very soon (I've been stuck reading William Least-Heat Moon's River-Horse for months now). But I'll get more into that later.

Another thing I'll be returning for is thoughts on the new WWE draft (begun the night Vince McMahon "died"). But I'll leave with this thought: at this year's WrestleMania, John Cena-Shawn Michaels was an instant classic. And this was definitely a year to have something like that. But, as I said, more thoughts in a few days...

#140. Santino Marella, Cloak of Shrouded Men

Tried making a post a few weeks ago. Didn't work out. Hoping Santino Marella, WWE's newest Intercontinental champion (and blatant attempt to woo back Bruno Sammartino, not that this is a bad thing) will appear tonight on Raw...

But the real sense of this note is the fact that The Cloak of Shrouded Men is now in pre-publication! I ended up going with iUniverse (please don't be mad, Bart! even though that Paperback Reader Quarterly seems to have...not published), and started the process last Tuesday. Can't wait for the whole process to have run through. My book! In print! And the day earlier, I sent a query for The Jingle Jangle. I can only hope good things for the poetry collection, too...