I was tagged by Jennifer Brozek to engage in a Character Blog Tour. Since I’ve just received a verbal acceptance from her on the initial outline for Famished: The Ranch, I thought this would be a good place to introduce new readers to our hero.
- What is the name of your character?
- Is s/he fictional or a historic person?
Gordon is totally fictional.
- When and where is the story set?
It is set in a modern day alternate America. While the world is essentially the same as the one we know, supernatural elements and creatures exist. Also, the founding of America went a little differently here, though the general public is unaware of this fact. The story ranges from Colorado to Maine, from Minnesota to South Carolina.
- What should we know about him/her?
At the start of the series, Gordon is an aimless teacher’s aide with little further direction than a Christmas Catholicism and a desire to work in higher education. He’s honest, faithful, sheltered, and more than a little naïve – almost childlike in his faith in the inherent goodness of people. This is, naturally, Not A Good Thing for a horror protagonist.
- What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life?
He is the unwitting scion of a horrific cult with its roots deep in the history and difficulties of the United States. When the cult discovers his bloodline, they introduce him to a world he was never prepared to witness, and demand his obedience to their terrifying agenda. Just when he thinks himself free of their reach, he becomes the tool of another supernatural force, a catspaw to carry out their own desires.
- What is the character’s personal goal?
While the goal has shifted slightly in each of the novels in this series, his ultimate goal is freedom – freedom from the cult, from the forces which sustain him, and the past built by his ancestors.
- Is there a working title for this novel, and where can we read more about it?
The latest (and likely final) book in the Gentleman Ghouls series is Famished: The Ranch. It is preceded by Famished: The Farm and Famished: The Commons. The earlier books are available from the publisher’s website, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Drive Thru Fiction.
- When can we expect the book to be published?
The first two books are already available. I am personally hopeful to release Famished: The Ranch in the summer of 2015, but have not yet confirmed any dates with the publisher.
This past Monday, Apple hit a world record. Preorders of its iPhone 6 and iPhone 6 Plus came to over four million in the first 24 hours. That is twice the number of preorders placed for the iPhone 5 in 2012. It is the largest launch day success of all time. Truly, a remarkable achievement for any company in financial terms!
But are financial terms the only terms worth measuring?
In May of 2011, the New York Times reported the explosion of an iPad factory in China due to lax safety measures – killing several workers and severely injuring others. Despite Apple’s assurances that such a thing would never happen again, a second factory exploded in December, a mere seven months later. In this second event, several more workers were severely injured.
According to an NPR investigation, that second site was the subject of an official safety inspection by Apple mere hours before the explosion. An inspection which clearly failed to identify some serious concerns.
Pegatron, the factory’s owner, blamed dust for this explosion. And the testimony seemed to bear this out – He Wenwen, one of the workers injured, states that the air in the Pegatron factory often resembled fog due to the heavy buildup of dust, that their venting technology routinely failed, and that the factory windows had actually been sealed shut.
Apple insists that these workers were compensated for their trouble. The workers indicated that this was true – though only after the media had pressured Apple repeatedly to ask for comment. Each worker reported receiving the equivalent of $800 American.
This is where I have to point out that the starting price of an iPhone 6 is $650.
And, according to the World Health Organization, the median daily cost of a hospital stay in a Chinese facility comes to $65.
Which means that if you’ve contracted to be one of those four million early adopters? Congratulations. You’ve helped cover ten days of treatment for a single injured worker, some of whom who were still receiving treatment a full ninety days after their injuries.
Why are the safety standards at these factories so lax?
One basic answer is the relationship between ourselves and our phones. Our desire to lay hands on these devices – as soon as they are released, and at a minimal cost to us – means that Apple, and other electronics manufacturers selling to the North American market, push their suppliers to turn around vast quantities of product with little advance notice and at the lowest of costs.
On top of which, the New York Times reports that Apple forces each supplier to trim their costs by 10% every year. All in the name of providing us with the newest, shiniest toys the moment they arrive.
I ask again: are financial terms truly the only terms worth measuring?
And I also ask, how can we change this? How can we, as individuals, effect positive global change? The most basic and sensible answer is this: We can “think different” about our upgrades. We can ask ourselves, do our current devices truly no longer function? Do they no longer serve the purpose for which they were intended – placing phone calls, keeping our calendars straight, taking photos? Do we, in fact, truly need this latest, greatest thing?
By opting out of the current voracious consumer cycle and opting for a more sensible pace of upgrades, we relieve some of the pressure put onto the suppliers. And by publicly sharing the reason behind these decisions, we put more pressure onto the companies who are squeezing those suppliers to change their practices.
Now – lest you think of this speech as nothing more than a self-righteous lecture– allow me a moment.
I am the owner of two iPhones. The white one is used for work, which allows me to set specific do not disturb or vacation hours. The black one is strictly for personal use, which allows me to store music and games without concern for company policies on data use. Because I find this convenient. My hands are far from lily-white.
But I purchased both phones before I knew the facts. And once I knew those facts, I knew I had to share them with others.
I will not be replacing one of these phones.
And even speaking as a worker in the technology field, I will never again be in the front lines as an early adopter. Because when we ignore the human cost of these devices, we ignore our own humanity. I know that now.
And so, I hope, do you.
While I’m not privy to all details, my understanding is that the excellent Shane Tyree was unavailable for this cover. While this would normally disappoint me – I’m quite a fan of Shane’s work – it did open another opportunity to work with Amber Clark of Stopped Motion Photography (also available on Twitter as @stoppedmotion and on Facebook.)
Amber and I worked closely together to create a wonderful and disturbing set of photos for my 2011 web serial, Idolwood. A sample of that work appears to the left, and you can see why I found it easy to work with Amber. She is an artist, a professional, and someone I am proud to call my friend.
Amber has not only created the cover for Famished: The Commons, she has kindly re-shot the cover for Famished: The Farm. So those of you who really, really want a matchy-matchy set of covers could always pick up a new copy of the first book. Not that I’m, y’know, recommending that or anything.
Really, this is two firsts. My first death in a large family, and my first organic death.
I’ve been in Smyrna, Georgia for less than twenty-four hours, watching as family and friends gather for the death of my father-in-law, Charles L. Allen, Sr.
It’s a noisy process, though that doesn’t surprise me. What does confuse me is the joyfulness of it all.
Not joy in the death, of course. Joy in regrouping, whether days or years have passed.
Friends have arrived from Sugar Grove, less than twenty minutes from the house, and family is here from Columbus, Ohio. For the first six hours the conversation is around other things. The grown children and their friends discuss television, music, stupid stunts they tried as wild boys in the woods of Georgia. The children of those children – well, they vary – the two sisters bicker or talk about their peers, the elder boy regales me with stories from games of Battlefront and Call of Duty, talks of his dream to become a premium YouTube sensation. The toddler races his toy truck from sun room to kitchen, impervious to any outside sorrows.
Mrs. Allen is receiving church ladies in the dining room. I don’t want to intrude, but mostly, there are kind words and gentle touches. Casseroles, Coca-cola, and chocolate cake. What I hear is talk of travels with the church group as far afield as South Dakota. I hear laughter and see smiles.
It’s comforting, though hard to wrap my head around. Somehow I’ve become more familiar with somber reflection than open joy, and my own talk of Batman and barbecue seems like it should alienate rather than bond. In a way, it’s a comfort when the friends file out and only family is left.
Even then, though, they’re siblings. They tease, tweak, and taunt one another.
“What room are you in,” asks Sheila, and Lois replies “Two-oh-seven and two-oh-nine.”
“Well, so much for sleeping,” Mitch sighs, “They’ll be pranking us all night.”
Mrs. Allen tells the story of the night they met, fifty-five years ago. It’s too funny a story to keep anyone down, though – with apologies – I’ll keep it to the family for the time being. Leanne and I set to work packing away five whole untouched pizzas, making room for pitchers of sweet tea by removing pitchers of plain water.
I warn that the pizza boxes in a recycling bin will attract raccoons and possum, and am assured they don’t come by as often as rats do. Finally, my chance to make a joke – “Well, that’s all right, then.”
Eventually the family, too, files out the door. My wife and I sit with her mother, and this is more familiar territory. My birth family is small, their circles close and tight. Here we can discuss what still needs doing.
Collect the truck from his hunting camp and sign the title to the camper over. Do we want to drive the truck back to Chicago? No, love it as she does, Leanne knows it wouldn’t make the journey. Cancel the appointments with the dentist, neurologist, general practitioner.
The details soothe me, if nobody else; and so do the eventual tears.
It’s not that I want those left behind to be task-oriented and sorrowful at such a time.
It’s just all I know.