David Wilson

Over the years, I've compromised on a lot of things in my writing, and in my life. Sometimes compromise is good and necessary to survival. Other times, it is a big hammer and chisel chipping away at the things that are important. I'm not going to talk about my own compromises here, though I will touch on them. I'm going to talk about writing in general, as funneled through the commercial, mass market system, and see if the thoughts sliding around in the back of my mind make sense once they splat on the page.

Most of you know by now (or at least by RIGHT NOW) that I am the CEO and founder of Crossroad Press. This started out as simply me wanting to get my old, out of print books into the hands of some new readers through Kindle and other e-reader formats. It was a slow start. There's a lot to learn about e-BOOK formatting, and there are a lot of pitfalls along the way. I persevered, and as I started to "get" it, others asked for my help with their own work.

The world of classic literature has been turned on its ear lately with the influx of books like "Pride, Prejudice, and Zombies," and "Sense, Sensibility, and Sea Monsters." That was the start. Soon after that we saw "Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter" surface (which I believe is being made into a movie). I will admit... I started out pretty skeptical about these titles, and in most cases remain so. If it's just a gimmick to sell yet another zombie novel without even having to write most of it yourself because you can steal from the public domain... for instance...

Every now and then I get the urge to speak my mind. Those of you who read this column are probably aware of this. I’ve talked about books and publishing before, but looking back I think a lot has changed since the last time I did so, so I believe I’ll take a stab at the state of things, as I see it . . .

There are books that leave you staring at the wall at their depth and literary magic, and there are dry, dull tomes filled with facts and figures, guaranteed to cure your insomnia if you aren't careful—particularly in audio format. J. A. Konrath's Whiskey Sour is neither of those things. It's very simply a fun book.

Waltzing With the Dead is one of the most unique short story collections I've ever had the pleasure to encounter. While the cover art, and the majority of the stories, lend this a fantasy-genre slant, don't let that fool you. WWTD is a complex puzzle of words.

There are four sections in the book, each prefaced by a long poem by the author. The sections are breakdowns of the content, and the poetry is top notch. Many of the stories then have snatches of the poetry preceding their text, adding clarity to the structural breakdown of the work presented.

This is not your mother's anthology, nor is it your standard horror anthology. This is not, in fact, a horror anthology at all, though most of the fiction fits that theme just fine, thank you. It is definitely a Chiaroscuro: Those Who Walk Alone anthology, if that makes any sense.

In Lee Thomas' Stained, we find a novel of depth and intensity sadly lacking in most genre fiction. While populated by child molesters, murderers, policemen, and a standard town full of standard characters, that town and those characters come to life and draw the reader in.

"Where are Dean Moriarity and Carlos Marx? Rising from Underground . . . Doom, Gloom, Doom . . ."

—Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Hearts in Atlantis is actually four separate stories that blend into a sort of interactive novel. This was okay, as far as it worked, but in the end might be the biggest flaw.

Normal Hills, Washington, is anything but. The Bogey Man is just a story to scare children, isn't he? Is Metallica life, or is it Anthrax? These questions, and others are answered in Brian Knight's fast-paced supernatural thriller, Feral.

I love October. It’s my favorite month for a number of reasons. For one thing, my birthday is in October, and though I’m reaching that point in my life where birthdays are losing their “sheen” I still like the notion that I have a spot on the big wheel I can reach up and high-five in passing. It’s also time for Halloween, which brings out the supernatural, spooky dark side of everyone around me. Television shows lean toward dark fantasy and horror; movies like “Zombieland” appear and make me smile.

Most of my writing career has followed a particular pattern. I write what pops into my head, and I write a lot. Some of it sells, some of it makes people go ?huh?? and some of it wins awards. Still, I generally have gone into projects with at least a general idea what I thought I?d do with the final product, at least in recent years. It seems, if not an exactly logical process, a workable one.

It has occurred to me lately that TV programming is a great way to explain what I consider to be one the biggest problems with books, the public, and publishing today—if not the biggest. The epiphany came to me first while watching the new program The Mentalist which is about a psychic turned detective who lost his wife and family to a serial killer he'd insulted on a live television broadcast. The problem is a very deeply rooted one, and I'm pretty well convinced that it's not one that can be fixed—but I think, at the same time, we need to remain aware of it.

Magazines are odd birds to review. Do you review the overall publication, take it story by story, hit the art and content? I've decided on a mixture of some of the above. Mostly, I ramble, but I will cover the fiction and mention other content as I go. Long time Cemetery Dance magazine readers might find themselves nodding along with me—others might be irritated, but that goes with the territory of saying what you think, I think. If you are not familiar with CD—go to the above site and do yourself the favor of partaking of at least one issue.

Stephen Humphrey has a unique poetic voice, somewhere between the hip of old and the cynical of the new. Drawing from Biblical sources, legends, dreams and nightmares, he has painted a poetic image of angels—the fallen, the ruined, the insecure and the forgotten. He has given them faces and names, hopes and dreams, sublime power—and then no power at all. He has made their faces things we can recognize and understand and yet, just out of reach he dangles those things we can't know or define. He hints at higher powers while humanizing his subjects and offering them up.

AMERICAN GODS is one of those novels that is incredibly ambitious, but you don’t realize it until you are lost in the middle somewhere, the mundane world far behind, and your mind reeling. You have a hero named Shadow—in jail because he took the fall for a robbery that his wife was involved in. He’s just been doing his time, learning from his cell mate Low Key—waiting to get out and home. His wife is waiting. His job, working at a body building “farm” for his best friend—is waiting. Did I mention Shadow is huge?