MANDIBLES: Deluxe Edition (Seeking YOUR Input!)

Okay, kiddies, here's the deal: Mundania Press is giving serious consideration to publishing a hardcover collector's edition of my novel MANDIBLES. I'm not convinced that the world NEEDS a collector's edition of a giant killer ant book, nor am I convinced that anybody will buy a limited edition of a novel that's already available in hardcover and trade paperback.

That said...here's the hypothetical (and I mean HYPOTHETICAL) scenario:

1. After a "Last Chance!" announcement, the current editions of MANDIBLES will go out of print.

2. A couple/few months later, MANDIBLES will return as a hardcover collector's edition, limited to a scant 100 copies. Forty bucks. Brand new, vastly improved cover art (a painting). Completely redone interior design. Black-and-white interior illustrations. Bonus content, probably consisting of several new chapters added to the end.

3. Shortly after that, the improved production values and bonus content (that is, the written bonus content...some artwork may remain exclusive to the hardcover) will carry over to a new edition of the trade paperback. The bonus content will then be made available as a free PDF to people who've already read MANDIBLES and don't wanna buy another copy just to get the extra chapters.

Soooooooooo...collectors/completists, would you have any interest in a limited edition hardcover of MANDIBLES? Any and all feedback is welcome, but I'm much more interested in hearing from people who WOULD consider buying one, since the pretty-darn-safe assumption is that most people aren't looking to buy an expensive edition of a book that's already available in a much cheaper format.

Leave a comment here, or e-mail me at JeffStrand@aol.com. Thanks!

Bloooooooooooood Car!!!!!

Last night, I went to the Sarasota Film Festival to see the movie BLOOD CAR. Because, c'mon, it's a movie called BLOOD CAR, and when movies called BLOOD CAR play in my general vicinity, I go see them. That's the way the world works.

Now, I've been burned many times on these "Long drives to see micro-budget horror flicks at film festivals," but BLOOD CAR was my favorite micro-budget horror flick since THE ROBERT CAKE...and I saw THE ROBERT CAKE in 2002!

The movie takes place in the very near future when gas prices are so high that nobody drives cars anymore. Our "hero" Archie is trying unsuccessfully to invent a car that will run on wheatgrass, but he accidentally invents a car that runs on...well, I don't want to give anything away.

Oh, wait, the movie is called BLOOD CAR, isn't it? He invents a car that runs on (SPOILER WARNING!!!) blood.

Though the movie has a ripped-from-the-headlines satirical premise, it's really just a goofy/gory movie about a guy who has to kill people to fuel his car. But it's a thoroughly entertaining movie, played entirely for laughs, and they're GENUINE laughs. Much of the humor comes from the sheer audacity of the whole thing, and the ending in particular is a masterpiece of pitch-black comedy.

Production values are top-notch for this kind of venture (and by micro-budget I mean MICRO-budget, not CABIN FEVER-style low budget), the actors know how to get laughs, and it even has Anna Chlumsky from MY GIRL, a movie that I absolutely loved and I don't care who knows it! (Okay, I care a little bit about who knows it, but I don't care if YOU, my loyal blog readers, know it.)

It's sick. It's unpredictable. It's hilarious. There are even a couple of actual shocks. It probably won't be playing at a theatre near you, but it's currently making the film festival circuit, so keep an eye out for it at www.bloodcar.com.

A Quick Comment About SURVIVOR: FIJI

This season has COMPLETELY redeemed itself. Though it was looking like there might be a passing of the baton, SURVIVOR: THAILAND will retain the title of Worst Season Ever.

WHC Report, Part III: Saturday & Sunday

SATURDAY

I start the day off with a pair of readings by Tina Jens and Mike Arnzen. Tina's reading is so classy that you'd never suspect that her diseased mind wrote a story like the one that's going to appear in UNTIL SOMEBODY LOSES AN EYE. Mike's reading puts his diseased mind out in front of everybody for close inspection. Both are highly entertaining.

I hang out downstairs for a while, and then Adam Pepper and I head over to the nearby food court for lunch. We get Thai food. Adam orders his spicy, I order mine medium. We both quickly regret not getting lesser heat values.

I go to see EXQUISITE CORPSE, which is a collection of 11 very short films based on poems and flash fiction by Mike Arnzen. With only one exception, I don't much like it. The heavy-handed approach just doesn't fit Arnzen's work, which I'm certain that he writes with a twisted grin on his face and the occasional outcry of "Muahahahahaha!!!" Oh well.

My wife, Lynne Hansen, is on the "Are Zombies The New Vampire?" panel. She has been given strict instructions to somehow work THE SINISTER MR. CORPSE into the discussion, so I go to the panel to make sure she follows through. She does, and so martial harmony is retained.

Then...it's tux time! I get all dressed up and snazzy-lookin' for the Stokers banquet. We head downstairs, where lots of people ask me if I've prepared a speech (no) and if I'm nervous (no). I'm almost positive that PRESSURE will lose to Tom Piccirilli's HEADSTONE CITY, so I've been in "It's an honor just to be nominated" mode ever since the finalists were announced. I didn't write a speech because that's like writing a story with no market, and I figure that if by some freak voting irregularity I DO win, they're not going to take the trophy away if I fumble through an incoherent speech.

We take our seats. I'm at a table with Lynne, Long Fiction nominee Christopher Golden, Greg Lamberson, my agent Jenny Rappaport, Norman Prentiss, Short Fiction nominee Stephen Volk, Bill Carl (who is very happy that his first novel will be published in 2008, giving him a chance to compete for a Stoker in a year without HEART-SHAPED BOX), John McIlveen, and Mike Myers. There are little cards with the covers of Stoker nominees on the table, but no PRESSURE, so we steal one from another table.

The food is surprisingly good for awards banquet food, although it was $55 a person, so I question whether I should be comparing this to other awards banquets or other $55 meals.

And...the awards ceremony begins, hosted by Sephera Giron. Sephera introduces each presenter with a tarot reading, although she does not predict anybody's untimely death, which would've been cool. Superior Achievement in a Novel is last, but we finally get there, and the moment where HEADSTONE CITY will give PRESSURE a public wedgie arrives. The nominees are read. PRESSURE gets the loudest applause of the five, so for about 10 seconds I suddenly think that I could win...and then the ocean of reality sprays cold salty water in my face as the Stoker goes to Stephen King for LISEY'S STORY. Stephen King isn't there, and nobody is present to accept the award on his behalf, so there's a few entertaining moments of bumbling around, but eventually they get it all sorted out and we're released.

We head up to the Stoker Winners & Losers Party. For about 10 seconds. Then we retreat from the merciless waves of heat and head back downstairs, where the intelligent people are lurking. We hang out there until the wee hours of the night.

SUNDAY

It's time to pack up. Somehow our luggage has expanded by 150%.

We head downstairs and say our goodbyes. Nate Kenyon is in tears, sobbing "It CAN'T be over! Come back WHC! Come baaaaack!" His wife Nicole smacks him and tells him to be a man, but this only makes him cry harder. His behavior makes everybody uncomfortable, and several people back away and pretend to be distracted by items on the floor and/or ceiling. I'm not ready for it to be over either, but c'mon, show a little dignity. Nate Kenyon disgusts me.

And we drive back to Buffalo. Greg plays a Bob & Doug McKenzie tape for our listening pleasure, and Nick Kaufmann and I make lots and lots of comments about the complete lack of anything resembling actual comedy. Greg is clearly annoyed by our lack of appreciation for fine humor, but the suckage of this tape is so extreme that we can't restrain ourselves.

Home at last. Well, Greg's home. We have pizza subs for dinner and watch part of Peter Jackson's KING KONG. I loved this movie in the theatre, but I have to quickly concede that Greg and Nick's heckling has plenty of merit. There are some really, really, really bad scenes in that movie. I mean, jeez.

We take Nick to the airport. Nick's flight is delayed. We take Nick back home for a while. We take Nick back to the airport. Nick goes bye-bye.

We go to sleep, never suspecting the airlines nightmare that awaits in the morning...

Has Jeff Lost His Freakin' MIND?!?

That's what you'll scream when I tell you about this unbelievably exciting sale! Your eyes will drop right out of their sockets and onto your keyboard, striking the D and K keys, as you gape in shocked astonishment at the words I'm about to type!

Because between now and April 30th, 2007, I'm offering "Employee Pricing!!!" on signed paperback editions of my three non-horror novels: HOW TO RESCUE A DEAD PRINCESS, OUT OF WHACK, and ELROD McBUGLE ON THE LOOSE! That's right--YOU pay what =I= pay to get copies of these outstanding books!

It's madness! Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaadness!!!

You can get HOW TO RESCUE A DEAD PRINCESS, the ultimate fantasy spoof, for the jaw-droppingly low price of $7.20! You can immerse yourself in the whacked-out comedy of OUT OF WHACK for the gasp-inducing low price of $7.77! And you can pound your head against ELROD McBUGLE ON THE LOOSE (a comedy for kids, and adults who were warped as kids) for the oh-no-he-didn't price of--my fingers are shaking as I type it--$5.40!

And if you order all three, shipping is FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE!!! That's three books for $20.37...two-fifths the price of THE SINISTER MR. CORPSE!

"Don't do it!" I can hear you bellow. "You're actually LOSING money in that scenario, you crazy fool! You must be stopped before you become a menace to yourself!"

Ha! You'll never stop me from offering this sensational deal! I'm so confident that you'll read these books and tell your friends how amazingly swell they are, that I'm willing to rip money out of my own pocket to mail them to you! It's insane! Insaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaane!!!

IMPORTANT WARNING FOR PARENTS:

ELROD McBUGLE ON THE LOOSE contains lots of twisted humor, but is suitable for the kiddies. (Some comedic violence, and a jokey-scary scene at the end.)
HOW TO RESCUE A DEAD PRINCESS contains lots of twisted humor, and is suitable for the older kiddies. (If it were a movie, it would be a mild PG-13.)
OUT OF WHACK contains lots of twisted humor, and is inappropriate for the kiddies and many adults.

Learn more about each book here:

HOW TO RESCUE A DEAD PRINCESS
http://members.aol.com/jeffstrand/deadprincess.htm

OUT OF WHACK
http://members.aol.com/jeffstrand/out_of_whack.htm

ELROD McBUGLE ON THE LOOSE
http://members.aol.com/jeffstrand/elrodmcbugle.htm


Q: Can I do my holiday shopping early and buy more than one copy of each title?

A: Yes. Order dozens! Order thousands! I won't be able to get out of my strait-jacket to stop you!

Q: If I order three copies of, say, ELROD McBUGLE ON THE LOOSE, does that qualify me for the free shipping?

A: By golly, it sure does!

To order via PayPal: Send the loot to JeffStrand@aol.com. Be sure to add a comment indicating which books you want (you don't have to be fancy: ELROD, PRINCESS, WHACK, or COMBO is fine) and your mailing address. If you're ordering 1 or 2, add $2 total (not per book) for Media Mail shipping and the padded envelope to match my padded cell.

To order with a good old fashioned check, e-mail me at JeffStrand@aol.com for instructions.

Those wacky prices (it's like YOU wrote the books and are ordering some spare author copies!) again:

HOW TO RESCUE A DEAD PRINCESS: $7.20
OUT OF WHACK: $7.77
ELROD McBUGLE ON THE LOOSE: $5.40
COMBO PACK: $20.37

All books will be signed. If you want them personalized, also add a comment saying "Inscribe to _______." If you don't want them signed, say "Keep your hands off my book, punk."

REALLY, REALLY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: To make this gargantuan "Employee Pricing!!!" offer, we're ADDING a middle-man: Me. I'm not the publisher. I'm ordering them FROM the publisher at my super-awesome discount after the sale has ended. At the beginning of May, the books will ship to me, and then I'll scrawl my name on them and ship them to you. So if you want them NOW, order directly from the publisher, or from Amazon, or, y'know, wherever.

This deal is so incredible that I almost can't bring myself to click "Send." What have I done????

Coming (Back) Soon...

Yep, it's my comedy for kids (and adults who were warped as kids). For those of you thinking "Thanks, but I'll PASS, loser!!!" rest assured that there'll be a deal so astounding that you won't be able to stop yourself from ordering it. Keep watching this space...

WHC Report, Part II: Friday

Our first event of the day is Greg Lamberson's reading. The reading room is the best setup I've ever seen at a convention. Candles on the tables, a very intimate atmosphere, an actual microphone for those of us who aren't drill sergeants--very classy. Greg reads a few short excerpts from JOHNNY GRUESOME, which is trashy b-movie-style fun. I hang out downstairs for a while, and then go to Brian Keene's reading, which is unsurprisingly packed. He reads his tale "The Resurrection and the Life" for the benefit of those who couldn't afford the $125 version.

My reading is after Keene's, but there's a one-hour lunch break in-between, so I don't get to leech off of his audience. I should've brought a whole bunch of bag lunches and encouraged people to stay. I read "Werewolf Porno." About two minutes into the reading, I sort of wish I'd picked a different story, but it's too late and I plow through the entire tale. The audience is pretty small at first, but as people return from lunch it grows into a nice-sized crowd. Definitely not my best reading ever, yet also not the worst...it's sweet, sweet mediocrity! I stick around for Bill Breedlove's wildly entertaining reading, which is also a tale about disaster on a porn movie set.

I'd noticed that the signings at the HWA table weren't exactly attracting hordes of screaming fans, and so I'm not surprised when my signing at the HWA table does not attract hordes of screaming fans. But I get to sit next to John Everson for an hour. Everybody should get to sit next to John Everson for an hour.

Lori Perkins takes her clients out to a French restaurant for dinner. (Technically, Jenny Rappaport is my agent, but I'm with the Lork Perkins Agency and so I qualify.) We burn as many calories during the walk as we will consume during the meal, and there will be many a calorie consumed during the meal. Quail is tasty.

Next up was the mass booksigning. This year, in an exciting change from traditional policy, authors were not allowed to sell their books. Show of hands: How many of you have ever been to a booksigning where you couldn't buy the author's books? That's right, NONE of you! To be fair, the dealer's room was open and you were supposed to buy books from there to take to the mass signing, but to be unfair, the dealer's room pretty much sucked. They also decided that people couldn't bring more than 3 books into the mass signing at a time, because authors get upset when people bring them books to sign at a booksigning. I don't wish to be a tattletale, but I DID witness some illegal selling of books. Much merriment was had over the whole policy.

The official gross-out contest was cancelled this year, but Mike Myers (not the comedian, not the serial killer) organized an unofficial event. Though it doesn't even appear on the program, it attracts a standing-room-only crowd. Every single contestant gets big laughs and lots of disgusted reactions from the audience. In a flagrant violation of the rules, Carrie "MuscleChik" Rapp, one of the bouncers, tries to prevent me from taking the stage when it's my turn, but I easily overpower her. Or she finally lets me pass--I forget which.

My story is a risky venture (it's a vile, obscene tale written and performed as if it were a classy Jane Austen piece) but an early line earns almost 30 seconds of sustained laughter and is quoted continually for the rest of the convention. I could share it here but...no.

I come in third place, losing to Cullen Bunn and Wrath James White. Which is fine, because Cullen, Wrath, and most of the other constestants reach a level of sheer grossness that I don't even WANT to attain. I mean, what the hell is wrong with those people? Jeez.

Next up is the midnight launch party for WAITING FOR OCTOBER. Three of the four authors in this anthology are there (myself, Sarah Pinborough, and Adam Pepper) along with the editor (Bill Breedlove) and publisher (John Everson of Dark Arts Books). We each read one of our three stories from the book to a very receptive audience. My story "Bad Candy House" is extremely well received and makes up for the lack of guffaws and chortles during "Werewolf Porno."

WAITING FOR OCTOBER sold very well in the pre-order stage. This is great news until I see a long table piled high with books to sign. Adam Pepper cheats and merely signs "AP." He says that my "signature" is too legible and pisses him off. (I don't actually use cursive; when I sign books I print my name. John McIlveen, who is selling my books in the dealer's room, shows me that Joe Hill does the same thing.)

I stagger away from the table, hand cramped and useless, and we head off to bed.

WHC Report Part I: Wednesday & Thursday

Wednesday...

The alarm goes off at 4:00 AM, causing us to seriously question the wisdom of our choice of departure times. Our flight to Buffalo is uneventful, and Greg Lamberson picks us up at the airport. After dumping off our stuff and making kissy faces at Greg's baby daughter Kaelin, we head off to Niagara Falls, where we meet John Paul Allen. He buys us lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe, and then we all nearly freeze to death as we look at the falls. Lots of water there. For dinner, we go to the place where buffalo wings were invented, although the history on their menu doesn't really make a very convincing case that they invented buffalo wings as we know them. Still, the wings themselves are fantastic. Their gift shop has hats shaped like giant buffalo wings, but we refrain from making the purchase. We return to Greg's place, watch a terrible episode of LOST, and go to bed.

Thursday...

Greg picks Nick Kaufmann up from the airport. Nick and I get stuffed into the backseat of the Slimemobile, and we're off to Toronto! We have no issues crossing the border, even though Nick's passport photo screams "Angry terrorist!" We stop at a genuine Canadian Wendy's for lunch, which is just like a Wendy's in the United States except that they accept Canadian currency. We reach the hotel, check in, go "ooooooh" over the room, then head down to the WHC registration desk. Because I'm a Bram Stoker Award nominee, I get a little sticker for my badge. It serves the purpose of making other con attendees go "Wow! I'm talking to a Stoker finalist!" and it also makes several other Stoker finalists go "Hey, how come I didn't get a sticker?"

It's SURVIVOR night, but since Greg wants to watch it as well, we're able to justify it as a networking opportunity and not just us being pathetic. We go to a genuine Canadian Red Lobster for dinner. Joining us are Aaron and Erika Bennett. The irony of being in Toronto and having dinner with Tampa people we see on a regular basis is not lost on us. However, Gary Braunbeck and Lucy Snyder are there as well. Gary and I discuss the fact that we're both pretty much screwed as far as our chances of winning the Stoker for Best Novel. Sadly, this conversation does not turn out to be ironic.

Dinner runs late and we miss SURVIVOR. Fortunately, I will avoid spoilers the entire weekend. Of course, when I try to watch the episode online upon my return home, there's a little "Related Videos" link on the bottom of the screen that shows who got voted out. Stupid bastards.

There are a couple of room parties going on, one in the HWA suite and one in the hospitality suite. The temperature in both rooms is approximately 275 degrees Fahrenheit, though of course since we're in Canada it's actually in Celsius. The overall smell is not good. We stick it out for a couple of hours then return to the room and pass out.

The Deluxe Mr. Corpse Could Be YOURS!

Hey, kiddies, a couple of lettered editions of THE SINISTER MR. CORPSE are available on eBay! Check 'em out!

http://cgi.ebay.com/THE-SINISTER-Mr-CORPSE-JEFF-STRAND_W0QQitemZ120104392274QQcategoryZ377QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&rd=1&item=230113733096&ssPageName=STRK:MESE:IT&ih=013

Appalling behavior by Stephen King

Stephen King's LISEY'S STORY won the Bram Stoker Award for Best Novel and my own PRESSURE did not. I'm fine with that. No sour grapes. However, I very strongly object to Mr. King's abhorrent, juvenile behavior towards me after his victory.

It started Monday night when I finally got home from the World Horror Convention. I was exhausted and just wanted to get some sleep. But the phone rang around 2:30 AM, and I'll transcribe the conversation as accurately as I can remember.

ME: Hello?

KING: Is this Jeff Strand?

ME: Yeah.

KING: Congratulations on winning the Stoker, Jeff! You totally deserved it.

ME: Huh?

KING: Oh...wait...my mistake, it appears that I'M the one who took home Stoker gold this year. How silly of me. You're not JEALOUS, are you?

ME: Who is this?

KING [ignoring the question]: Poor little Stokerless Jeffie-Weffie. I bet you cried like a little girl whose Barbie doll got decapitated in an elevator mishap. [snickers]

ME: Is this Stephen King?

KING: Yes. I mean, no. [muffled giggling] Hey, wanna hear a riddle?

ME: It's the middle of the night!

KING: What do you call an author without a Stoker? Give up? Jeff Strand! Hee hee hee hee hee! [whispering] Shhhh, Tabby, he'll hear you...

ME: This is really unprofessional and inappropriate.

KING: [muffled hysterical laughter] You should write a sequel called PRESSURE II: WAAAH, LISEY'S STORY WON AND I SUCK! Looooooser! Here, you can borrow my Stoker. Psyche!!! No, really, I'll mail it in the morning. Psyche!!!

[Dial tone.]

He prank called me six more times that night, although I won't bore you with the details. I'm cool with that. He won, I didn't, and he has the right to gloat a bit, I suppose. But the next day I received a Federal Express package. Inside was a CD by the Rock Bottom Remainders, with a handwritten note that said "A special song just for you! -- Love, SK."

I put in the CD. As the song began, I immediately recognized Dave Barry on lead guitar and Ridley Pearson on tuba. Then Stephen King began to sing, to the tune of Queen's "Under Pressure."

Um boom ba bay
Um boom ba bay
Um um boom ba bay bay
Pressure
Was beaten by me
I put a frown on you, you're feelin' sore
I beat Pressure
Made you look like a clown
Snapped your big ego in two
Put you on the streets
Um ba ba bay
Um ba ba bay
Dee day duh
Ee day duh
You feel sorrow in knowing
Which Stoker you're without
Watching your good friends
scream "Let's all pout!"
Tomorrow takes me higher
Pressure's for people
Who can barely read
Day day day
Da da dup bup bup
Okay

I shut off the CD at this point, not wanting to tolerate any more of his childish antics. I want to make it perfectly clear that I did nothing to instigate this behavior, and in fact I would have continued to take the high road and kept this matter private. However, this evening was the last straw. I came home to find my front window broken. When I hurried inside, Stephen King was seated on my couch, drinking a Mountain Dew he'd stolen out of my refrigerator, with numerous Stoker statues spread out on the floor in front of him.

"My, my, my," he said. "Look at all of these lovely Stokers I've got. It's a whole neighborhood of them! What a friendly little community!"

I very politely asked him to leave, but he picked up one of the haunted house statues and rested it on his lap. "Look, the little door opens! How cool is that? Whose name is that on the plaque inside? Why, it's MINE! Oh, goodness, I'm sure that at least ONE of these must have your name in it! Let me check. This one? Nope. This one? Nope. This one? Nope. This one...?"

I asked him--once again, calmly and politely--to leave my home or I'd call the police.

"This one? Nope. This one? Nope. This one? Nope."

At this point, yes, I'll admit that I lost my temper. I said in a very stern voice that I expected him to pay for both the window he broke and the soft drink he consumed. Is that unreasonable? If he broke into your home and taunted you with his awards, would you just put up with it? I am not the bad guy here. But he just chuckled, gathered up his Stokers, and walked out through the front door, dropping the empty Mountain Dew can on my floor.

Look, I'm not asking anybody to quit buying Stephen King books. However, considering his poor sportsmanship, I think the best revenge would be if PRESSURE outsold LISEY'S STORY. LISEY'S STORY sold about 1.2 million copies in 2006, so this won't be an easy task; some of you will have to buy doubles. But we can't let Stoker winners treat those of us who came up short in such a shameful manner. Buy PRESSURE. Buy it now. Buy it often.

Thank you for letting me vent.

--Jeff

My Shameful Stoker Loss

Well, PRESSURE didn't win the Bram Stoker Award for Best Novel. Stephen King won for LISEY'S STORY. Though Mr. King was not at the awards banquet, unconfirmed reports suggest that he spent the entire night dancing around his house, screaming "YEAH!!! I BEAT STRAND!!! WOOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOO!!! GO TEAM KING!!! I...WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT...AND PARTY EVERY DAY!!!"

I guess I couldn't expect to beat Stephen King, since his novels regularly sell at least twice as many copies as mine.

My trip home was an absolute nightmare (Delta Airlines SUCKS!!!) and I'm still exhausted, so this is all I'm gonna write for now. But tomorrow or Thursday or Friday, watch for a detailed World Horror Convention trip report!