Omnivoracious

Lauren Groff on "The Flamethrowers" by Rachel Kushner

Every so often, you'll come across a book that burns so hot and bright it'll sear a shadow on your vision. For a while afterwards, everything you look at will have the book's imprint on it; your world will be colored in the book's tones, and you will glimpse the book's characters on the street and feel your heart knocking in your chest for a few blocks, as if you'd escaped a close call.

This is how I felt after I read Rachel Kushner's brilliant The Flamethrowers. The night I finished it, I dreamt of racing motorcycles across sunshot salt-flats and of floating in glimmering Italian swimming pools. In the morning, I tried to describe the book to a friend but I eventually faltered into silence.

"This is a beautiful book," I finally said, "a book full of truth, a book about art and motorcycle racing and radicalism, about innocence and speed and stepping up to a dangerous brink, a book very deeply about the late seventies in New York City and its powerful blend of grittiness and philosophical purity."

"Oh," said my friend. "So. What is it about?"

I tried again. I said, "It's a love story, about a young artist under the sway of an older, established artist, scion of a motorcycle family, who betrays her, and she joins up with an underground group in Italy."

"It feels like a contemporary European novel, philosophical and intelligent, with an American heart and narrative drive," I said.

"Oh," said my friend.

"Just read the book," I said, and my friend did, and loved it to speechlessness, as well. "Wow," is all he could say when he returned the book to me.

I don't blame him. The truth is, this is a strange and mysterious novel, a subtle novel. Much of its power comes from the precision of Kushner's language and how carefully she allows the flashes of perception to drive the narrative forward. See Reno, the offbeat narrator, describing ski racing to her lover, Sandro, saying, "Ski racing was drawing in time." Suddenly you can see what she means, a body's crisp slaloming down the white slope, the way the skier draws a perfect serpent down the clock.

Or see Reno, racing her motorcycle: "Far ahead of me, the salt flats and mountains conspired into one puddled vortex. I began to feel the size of this place. Or perhaps I did not feel it, but the cycle, whose tires marked its size with each turn, did. I felt a tenderness for them, speeding along under me."

There is something deeply eerie happening under the words, something on the verge of tipping over and spilling out; and, at the same time, a gentleness and innocence at the core of all that noise and speed.

Rachel Kushner is an unbelievably exciting writer, a writer of urgent and beautiful sentences and novels that are vast in their ambition and achievement. I finished it months ago, but The Flamethrowers -- startling, radiant -- still haunts me.

-- Lauren Groff

YA Wednesday: "Rapture Practice"

What if you didn't see a movie until you were fifteen?  Or were forbidden to listen to popular music when you were a teenager?  Sounds a little like Footloose, but, in fact, that was Aaron Hartzler's life.  And we get to read about it in his fantastic book, Rapture Practice.  

Hartlzer grew up truly excited for the Rapture, playing the piano in church, and following the plan his parents, particularly his father, laid out for his life. The snake in Aaron's Garden of Eden came in the form of bible camp--as unlikely as that seems--and the apple was The Hunt for Red October. 

Hartzler's coming-of-age memoir is funny, laugh-out-loud funny at times, and his slide into "sin" is fraught with a combination of thrill and guilt because his love for his parents and desire to please them is 100% genuine.  We picked Rapture Practice as our YA Best Books of the Month spotlight for April and after reading it I wanted to hear more about that first movie experience, so we asked Aaron Hartzler to write a little something for us.  The picture of the ticket stub you see below?  That is THE ticket.  Read on...

Unless Jesus comes back in the next two minutes, I am going to break one of Mom and Dad’s biggest rules. My cheeks are hot. I feel out of breath. A drop of sweat trickles down my back, but the girl behind the glass doesn’t even look up at me. She has no idea what is happening in my head, what a big deal this is for me. She couldn’t be less interested.

I slide a five‑dollar bill under the window. She hands back a small yellow ticket between neon nails so long they curve.

“Enjoy the show.”

I take a deep breath.

I take a look over my shoulder.

I take the ticket.

[From Rapture Practice by Aaron Hartzler]

I didn’t see a movie in a movie theater until I was 15 years old. My mom and dad felt that most movies were not pleasing to God, so I wasn’t allowed to go. And yet, when I stood on that curb at the theater with all of my friends from camp that summer, all of those warnings were no match for the thrill of taking my seat in a darkened room, and watching the opening credits. My heart was racing, and my hand was sweaty as I clung to that little yellow ticket stub.

I saved the tickets for every movie I saw that summer. They looked like little carnival ride tickets back then—the kind you win playing ski ball and trade for prizes. This was before they printed the name and date of the film on the ticket, so I wrote it on each one. Eventually, I lost the rest, but I still carry that first little yellow ticket around in my wallet. It’s a symbol of the day I started to make my own decisions—for better or for worse; the day I knew my life was going to be different than the one that had been imagined for me by others. That little yellow scrap felt like more than just a ticket to a movie; it felt like a ticket to freedom.

Looking back, I’m certain that it was.

--Aaron Hartzler

The Making of a Bestselling Children's Book

In children's books there are those rare gems that come out of the gate like the literary equivalent of a coveted holiday toy, but unlike those talking Elmo's and Cabbage Patch dolls (for those of you old enough to remember) these books are also destined to stand the test of time.  Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site is one such book.  It came out in 2011 and was one of our Best Picture Books of the Year--it hasn't slowed down since.  Today, the newest book from the same author and illustrator team comes out, Steam Train, Dream Train, and it is wonderfully different.  In fact, Steam Train, Dream Train, our Best Picture Book of April, has, in my opinion, the potential become even bigger than it's predecessor. It's rhythmic, engaging, and beautiful.

Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site was the first book by an author who was by profession a graphic designer, but also the mother of two young boys.  We wondered what life has been like for her, winning such high acclaim and success with her first book.  Sherri Duskey Rinker had this to say:

In 2009, I was a typical, exhausted working mom. I had a three year old and a seven year old; I was sleep-deprived and stretched too thin.

As a graphic designer for more than twenty years, I was SO over it: budgets, corporate politics, marketing speak, revisions, hot deadlines, late hours, disrupted weekends and vacations—all of it. What was once a lovely career was now drudgery (kids change everything, right?), and I was often grumpy and resentful about the whole thing. I sometimes prayed for a better option, but I often felt like my pleas just scattered to the breeze, unheard.

My boys were the bright spot in every day. I was awful about honoring bedtimes—evenings were the only time I really had to spend with them, uninterrupted. My husband scolded halfheartedly, but we laughed, played, talked, cuddled, and, finally—way later than we should— settled in to read before bed.

Still, I was exhausted. I felt like those dolls that close their eyes when you lay them down, as though only the distance to the nearest horizontal surface stood between me and unconsciousness. But my little one, especially, wanted to talk. About trucks. (Inspired by our reading, of course.) He thanked God for them (ALL of them, by name, each and every one), asked which was my favorite, and wondered how much each one could lift or carry. Remember that cool one we saw today? He’ll drive that when he gets big. How much longer ’til he’s big? Don’t forget about that new one he wants for his birthday. He needs to remind Grandpa he wants the yellow one not the red one. One is broken; Daddy will need to fix it. He needs another loader for a job he has tomorrow; he’s working overtime on a big project. Can we buy a new loader? Aren’t crane trucks super awesome? . . . And on, and on . . .

One night, after I’d fallen asleep in his bed and, hours later, stumbled across the hall into my own, I received a gift: It occurred to me that what we needed was a truck book melded with a goodnight book. The idea for Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site hit me like a fastball (title and all), and I got a total adrenaline rush pondering it.

SO: I wrote it, I sent it, I signed a contract—and it sold. And sold BIG. (Really big.) Like, #1 New York Times bestseller big.

Now it’s 2013. It’s hard to express how much has changed. I visit schools to talk about my books and my life.

Teachers give me introductions that I’m sure must be meant for someone else. Little girls hug me on their way out, and little boys ask for my autograph and high fives. Kids make me thank-you cards out of construction paper and color pictures for me to take home and hang on my fridge.

AND, I get paid. Seriously: How can you beat that?

I see my name on bestseller lists with amazing, talented, legendary writers. No one has yet realized that I’ve infiltrated their group without credentials, so I’ll be acting like I belong (and excitedly e-mailing the lists to my dad) until I’m caught and exposed as a fraud.

I’m signing books NEXT TO LOIS EHLERT, author of the famous and fabulous Chicka Chicka Boom Boom (which, btw, was the first baby thing I bought when I found out I was pregnant). Okay, I’m sure she still has no idea who the heck I am, but that’s not the point.

I email one of my idols, Judy Schachner (writer/illustrator of the FAB SkippyJon Jones), AND SHE EMAILS ME BACK. Really — I kid you not.

Taye Diggs tweets that he and his son love my book (insert teenage-girl shriek here)!

A friend of my mother-in-law calls to tell her that she has just seen my book mentioned by an actress in an article in Good Housekeeping which creates quite the commotion, and elevates me to a B-level big shot among the suburban grandmother crowd.

Envision giant pain-in-the-ass client, the one that makes your stomach sink just seeing their name appear in your inbox: “Hi, Celia, thank you so much for your interest in utilizing my design service for your project, but I’ve been rapidly phasing out my graphic design business in order to focus more on my books/writing/appearances.”—And, in case you were wondering, it feels JUST AS FABULOUS to hit that “send” button as I always dreamed it would! Goodbye, Sunday Night Dreads!

 My best friend calls to tell me that my book is a question on “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.” I’m pop culture?

A few splurges: an Hermes scarf . . . or two . . . or three (But, hey, still eBay . . . I’m still me.) an adorable (and arguably functional) little Louis Vuitton bag (again, eBay); afternoon tea with (surprise!) an overnight stay at the Ritz with my husband, both boys and both grandmas, including an amazing view, room service EVERYTHING, and my little guy’s first sighting of a bidet. (Which he now thinks is a household essential, and he cannot believe we will not get one.)

I’m heading out on a national promotional tour for my second book, Steam Train, Dream Train. (I just like to say that because I think it sounds cool.) This time, the creative process was far more collaborative between Tom and me, and I offered feedback on the sketches, as he did on the verse. And, beneath my calm façade, there are moments when I hear myself internally gush: “Tom Lichtenheld’s actually asking my opinion!”

I still clean the house and pick up socks. I still spend half my life in a car driving the boys everywhere. I still help with homework, fret over what we’re having for dinner and make the calls that go, “Doctor, I need to bring him in. This rash does NOT look good.” We still laugh and cuddle past our bedtime, but it’s no longer because I haven’t seen them all day.

I haven’t lost sight of the fact that I’ve been amazingly blessed. I’m grateful every day for my wonderful family and an incredible new career. I’m just stunned and thrilled beyond belief to be standing here, and the only thing I know for sure is this: I can’t wait for the next chapter.

---Sherri Duskey Rinker

John Scalzi Reviews "The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There"

One of our picks for the best books of 2011 for ages 10 and up was The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, and now the highly anticipated follow-up book has been released.  John Scalzi, best-selling author of the cult classic, Old Man’s War, and his most recent book, Redshirts, wrote the fabulous Omni guest review below for Valente's latest, The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There. 

As you'll see, John added a disclaimer to his review, and I'll add a side-note of my own before I let him take over: don't let that middle grade age marker deter you, adult reader. Catherynne Valente's books are a great read for anyone who enjoys a good Alice in Wonderland-esque, fantasy story.  But don't just take my word for it, let's see what John Scalzi has to say...

First a disclaimer: I know Cat Valente, like her a whole lot, and have even paid her money to write stuff for me. So while what follows is honest (i.e., I really believe what I am saying to you), it is not in the least bit unbiased. It is totally biased! Just so you know.

With that out of the way:

Some Very Excellent Reasons Why The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There is Very Much Worth Your Time and Also and Not Coincidentally Worth Your Money Too:

(in no particular order)

1. I love the story, continuing the adventures of September, the willful, half-shod protagonist of Cat’s New York Times bestselling “The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Boat of Her Own Making” (which, incidentally won the prestigious Andre Norton Award for young adult fiction over some pretty serious contenders, including a book of mine, so there). September is older, and arguably wiser, and also changed. But then so is Fairyland when she returns to it and confronts a new foes and new challenges. I would tell you more, but why spoil it? But I will say:

2. I love September, who is very exactly a young woman of a certain age, that age being thirteen. Coincidentally I happen to have a thirteen year old daughter in the house and while she and September are their own people, they are (to my eye at least) clearly part of the same newly-hearted tribe. Cat is too, or at the very least remembers vividly what it’s like to be one.

3. I love Fairyland, which pulls off the neat trick of being both immediately familiar and refreshingly new. Cat knows her folklore and myth -- knows the mechanics of “once upon a time” -- and that knowledge allows her to create a Fairyland that is delightful but not exactly safe. It’s a dreamworld that tells you that you’ve been there before even when everything is new. That’s the delight, and also the danger.

4. I love the language, which in Cat’s hands is playful but not twee, blunt but not cruel, truthful but not pedestrian, expansive but not showy. Which words get used? The right words, the smart words, the unexpected but perfect words, the words that unpack a feeling like a picnic basket and invite you to the feast. Much of the magic of Fairyland is in the telling -- both of the land itself and how September herself apprehends it.

5. I love that it’s the rare book -- like Neil Gaiman’s Coraline or Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory -- that you want to read aloud to a child not only as a loving obligation but because it makes you want to explore Fairyland together, hand in hand. Books like that are too few to miss. That Cat has made two of them is a little bit of a miracle. 

In short: I love it, and I think and surely hope you will too. I am biased here, but also truthful. This is a good book. —John Scalzi

A Guest Post from Rick Riordan

Today marks the release of the long awaited third book in the Heroes of Olympus series, The Mark of Athena, which (thanks to an early look) we chose as our spotlight pick for the Best Middle Grade books of October for ages 9 and up.  Riordan hits all the right notes in book three, weaving new threads on classic stories from Greek and Roman mythology into existing ones fans have been eager to learn more about--all with a fun modern twist, of course. To mark the occasion, we are thrilled to bring you the guest post on mythology below from author Rick Riordan.  You can also read a PDF of the first chapter from The Mark of Athena here.

My Favorite Mythologies

I often get asked which mythology is my favorite—Greek, Egyptian, Norse, or something else. That’s sort of like asking which is my favorite flavor of ice cream. I love so many of them, if I stuck with just one I’d get tired of it. Some days I’m in the mood for mint chocolate. Other days it’s vanilla, or fresh peach. I think of mythology the same way. I like each kind of mythology for different reasons, and I feel fortunate that I don’t have to choose just one.

If I had to? Well, of course, I’d go with Greek and Roman. Those stories are so deeply woven into our literature and culture that everyone recognized some part of the Greek mythology, whether it’s snaky-haired Medusa, Hercules with his club and lion cape, Pegasus the winged horse or the many-headed hydra. The Greek gods are so human it’s hard not to love them, even when they’re being absolute scoundrels. My personal favorite is Poseidon (no surprise), because I love the sea and I like the way Poseidon can reflect its many moods—some days calm and peaceful, other days dark and stormy.

Egyptian myths intrigue me for the opposite reason—because they are not well known. They are shrouded in mystery and have always seemed so exotic. I love the Egyptian underworld, with its demons, strange gods, and its River of Night. Horus the Avenger is one of my favorite gods, because it’s easy to relate to a son who wants to avenge his dead father. That’s the story behind the plot of Hamlet and many other great dramas—and it all comes originally from the story of Horus.

Norse mythology is the first mythology I ever studied in school, even before Greek. My middle-school English teacher knew that I liked The Lord of the Rings, and she told me that Tolkien’s series was based on the Norse myths. Those stories just blew me away when I was thirteen. I’ve been a mythology lover ever since, and that was also the year I decided I wanted to be a writer. A good teacher can have a huge impact.

What other mythologies do I like? In my classroom, I used to teach Ancient Sumerian myths, especially the story of Gilgamesh. I love the epic tales of India like the Ramayana, especially Hanuman the monkey god. Awesome character. I love Japanese myths, Native American folklore, and stories from the many cultures of Africa. One of my students’ favorite stories was the epic of the hero Mwindo, from the Nyanga people in the Congo.

I don’t know if I’ll have the chance to do books based on all these mythologies, but I plan to tackle as many as I can. In the meantime, check out the original myths for yourself!

--Rick Riordan

Rick Riordan (www.rickriordan.com) is the author of the New York Times #1 best-selling Kane Chronicles trilogy, Book One: The Red Pyramid, Book Two:The Throne of Fire, and Book Three: The Serpent's Shadow. His other novels for children include the New York Times #1 best-selling Heroes of Olympus, Book One: The Lost Hero, and Book Two: The Son of Neptune, as well as the five books in the New York Times #1 best-selling Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. He lives in San Antonio, Texas, with his wife and two sons.

YA Wednesday: Libba Bray's 10 Favorite Horror Movies

 

The Diviners is not only one of the best books of September, I think it's one of the best books of the Fall, combining the glamour and excitement of 1926 New York (think Ziegfeld girls and Prohibition gin) with totally creepy occult murder, secrets of the supernatural, and a diverse cast of characters. The Diviners has the goose bumps factor of an early Stephen King novel with an impeccably researched look at the history and pop culture of the 1920s--the Labor movement, speakeasy jazz, and young women like Evie O'Neill with their feathered  headbands and chutzpah.  

Author Libba Bray (who won the Printz Award in 2010 for Going Bovine) has been getting lavish praise for The Diviners, which is the first of a new four-book series (yay!), and when I talked to her earlier this year about the new book--see the video of our interview after the jump--I had a really hard time not laughing into the microphone because she was cracking me up. One of the things we talked about was Bray's love of horror--Salem's Lot is one of her all-time favorite books and she refers to it as "Our Town with vampires" (that should give you a clue about her sense of humor).  In the spirit of things that go bump in the night Bray came up with something special for Omni readers: the funniest top 10 horror movies list I've ever seen (the movies are scary as hell, it's Libba Bray who is hilarious).  Did she include any of your favorites? 

“MY TOP TEN FAVORITE HORROR MOVIES”

 Horror, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love your ominous, cobweb-encrusted mansions and staircases leading to bad things. I love your neighbors who might be Satanists and your slowly rising corpses. I love your screams, your maniacs in hockey masks, your creaking doors, and your beasties roaming the moors under a full moon. I love you so much that I had to make a Top Ten List of my favorite horror movies of all time. Because that’s how my love rolls…like a severed head…bouncing down the stairs and landing at the screaming heroine’s feet. Wait—why are you moving away from me?

A warning: This list will contain spoilers, so if you haven’t seen some of these movies, and you prefer to remain unspoiled, do not read any further. You have been warned. You know, like in a horror movie prologue.

10. AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981)

For a kid who grew up loving Hammer Horror films AND National Lampoon magazine, this is the perfect movie—a great mix of horror and comedy. David (David Naughton) and Jack (Griffin Dunne) are two college pals backpacking on the moors of chilly England where they run afoul of a local werewolf. Dude, that was so not listed in the Frommers Guide. David is taken to a hospital in London to recover but is visited by his now-undead-and-not-loving-it, toast-eating pal, Jack, who warns David that when the moon is full, he’s going to change. A lot. Like, don’t make dinner plans, and don’t be wearing your best clothes when it all gets real.

What’s great about AAWIL is that it succeeds so well on both levels: The comedy is completely disarming (I particularly love the scene in which the hero is visited by the undead in an adult movie house, and the mauled fiancée is all English cheer and politeness) while the scares are quite scary (Hello, businessman-in-the-London Underground station!) It also jump-started my crush on Griffin Dunne who gets all the best lines here. Plus, the soundtrack—“Bad Moon Rising,” “Blue Moon,” “Moondance”—is pretty darn clever.

9. WHEN A STRANGER CALLS (1979)

If you ever wondered why teenaged girls suddenly stopped babysitting and started working at the local Taco Bell, look no further than this movie which singlehandedly moved babysitting from “Great way to make a few bucks on a Saturday night” to “Great way to meet a homicidal maniac.” To this day, the sound of an icemaker dropping its frosty load makes me run for cover. And if I ever pick up the phone and hear, “Have you checked the children yet?” I will need defibrillation paddles STAT.

Teenaged babysitter and all-around good kid Jill (Carol Kane!) is babysitting in a darkened house when Billy Crystal jumps out and says, “It just so happens he’s mostly dead!” and…oh, sorry. Wrong movie. Strike that. Anyhoots, Carol’s babysitting but she keeps getting these weird prank calls asking her if she’s checked the children yet. It’s starting to work on her nerves, and we are treated to lots of creepy build-up: the aforementioned icemaker sounds. A near attempt at going upstairs. A frightened Carol staring into the dark outside the windows. What could be out there, you think. Better stay inside, Carol, and keep those doors locked! Well, Carol hears you, and she does just that.

When she’s finally good and terrified, though, she has the police trace the call and they phone her back frantically to let her know that the call is coming from inside the house! All together now: AAAAAHHHHHH!!!! And that’s just the first thirty minutes of the movie, folks. There’s another hour to go. I won’t tell you what happens but suffice it to say that Charles Durning shows up, and you know that where he goes, bad things follow.

8. THE EVIL DEAD II(1987)

Bruce Campbell. Sam Raimi. A chainsaw. “Grooovy…” #nuffsaid

YA Wednesday: An Exclusive Essay from David Levithan

In this exclusive essay, YA author extraordinaire David Levithan talks about how he came to write a story based on the theme of "love is love" in his latest book, Every Day--our September Best Teen Book of the Month spotlight pick.

A Similar Kind of Love Song

By David Levithan

Recently I was reading an interview in OUT magazine with Romy Madley Croft, the lead singer of the band the xx. Croft, talking about coming out, told the reporter, “If I was singing about a guy, I would probably be singing a similar kind of love song, really.” And I was struck that the same thing applied to my writing—especially with my new book, Every Day.

        Every Day is about A, who wakes up each morning in a different body and a different life. It’s not giving anything away to say that in the first chapter, A falls in love with a girl name Rhiannon . . . and that their relationship is rather complicated.

      So there I was—a gay man, writing from the point of view of a character who is neither gay or straight, male or female. A has no inherent race, no inherent religion. A has grown up without friends, without family. A is purely a self. Whereas I, in my culturally and societally constructed life, am not.

       It should have been hard to write as A, but it wasn’t. Because I found that, no matter which body A was in, I was singing a similar kind of love song.

       Ever since Boy Meets Boy, my first novel,was published, I’ve received thousands of letters and emails from readers. Some of the most interesting ones have been from people who were surprised that they, non-gay or non-male, identified so deeply with the love story. Love is love, more than one reader wrote to me. And I thought, yes, that’s it exactly. (I almost want to put it as a tip on my website, for all those students who write to me telling me their teacher has assigned them to identify the central theme in my work. Well, there it is. Love is love.)

            In Every Day, I wanted to look at that theme from a variety of angles. I wanted to test that theme, and find its limitations. Where A starts in Every Day is where many of my other characters—my will grayson in Will Grayson, Will Grayson, for example—reach at the end of my other novels. That is, they recognize that in order to love and be loved, they must be true to themselves. A is always true in this way. Writing A made me realize that this is one of the more helpful questions you can ask about love—if I were truly myself, only myself, and not a gender, and not a sexual orientation, and not a race, and not any other external designation . . . what would I want? What would I do?

            A gets to live this ideal. But Rhiannon, who doesn’t change bodies, is challenged to match it. This is the great conflict in the book, and informs one of the questions I posed to myself as I wrote it: Does love indeed conquer all? Or, in other words, does our world always allow love to be love?

            Again, I come back to that phrase “a similar kind of love song.” I like that she doesn’t make them the same. I like that they’re similar. There are certainly different challenges, at some times, in some places, with a gay love story. I often try to illuminate that experience in my writing. But there are also the same universal emotions. Joy is joy. Fear is fear. Vulnerability is vulnerability. Just like music is music, writing is writing, and love is love.

Guest Post: “Seed” Author Ania Ahlborn on Horror Movies That Inspire

“Muses come in different shapes and sizes, mine just happens to look
like a blood-drenched Sissy Spacek.”

— Ania Ahlborn, author of the chilling new horror novel, Seed

Classic horror: there’s something magical about it; something raw and unforgiving that taps into our deepest, most primal fears. As an author, people ask me what inspires me. I’m expected to throw out complicated answers: Shakespeare’s soliloquies; Hemingway’s drunken banter; unpublished Russian manuscripts — the more underground the better. When I reply with “movies,” eyebrows arch above surprised expressions. But it’s undeniable — I have a love affair with moving pictures, especially the ones that make my skin crawl.

 As a lover of horror, I can appreciate almost any attempt at the genre. Granted, I don’t have much of a stomach for stuff like Saw and Hostel, but I understand why it makes the audience react the way it does. And yet, after a barrage of found footage flicks, I find myself pining for the days of old.

I spent my youth watching horror movies when the adults weren’t around, terrorizing myself with classic B-grades like Troll and Dolls—the latter of which gave me a childhood phobia of sleeping in rooms with those creepy, glass-eyed, porcelain faces. But the movie I remember watching most vividly is The Exorcist; sitting on the couch in a pitch black room, clinging a decorative pillow to my chest, my eyes wide as saucers while Reagan MacNeil thrashed in her bed. I was horrified, but it was the type of terror that refused to let me look away. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I didn’t get a proper night’s sleep for at least six months after that viewing. The horror of that movie dug deep into my soul. It infected me like a disease. No movie has affected me like that since.

That isn’t to say I’ll let a television sit on snow in a dark room for longer than a second. No way. There are people in the TV, Poltergeist told me so; just like The Omen taught me that being born bad can really happen and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre convinced me that the worst people live in the most remote places. And then there was The Shining, offering up the terrifying notion that a trusted family member can turn into a monster. These are the concepts that seeped into my subconscious, the very things that turned my thoughts weird and dark. Reagan MacNeil and Damien Thorn were the wicked little muses that scratched the inside of my skull for years, insisting that I had a tiny monster of my own to unleash upon the world. Jack Torrance assured me that there’s a switch in us all, and once it’s flipped, even a family man can turn into an axe murderer. Leatherface sparked my adoration for towns so rural they make the blood run cold.

Readers flatter me. They’ve compared Seed to the likes of classic Stephen King. Whether that’s accurate or not isn’t my call, but the comparison definitely gives me a thrill; and it’s not because my name and King’s are being brought up in the same sentence (though let me tell you, that blows my mind every time), but because my writing is being compared to the horror of old, the horror that was genuinely scary. That’s the horror I grew up on. It’s the stuff that twisted my mind and made my poor mother wonder how she’d raised such an odd, dark-minded girl. Muses come in different shapes and sizes, mine just happens to look like a blood-drenched Sissy Spacek.

When people ask me where I got my inspiration for Seed, I tell them that I’ve always been haunted by the concept of demonic possession. But my thanks will forever rest with the directors, actors, and cinematographers of classic horror fare. Because those are the people who put darkness in my head, those are the people who filled my brain with terrible concepts yet simultaneously entertained me. That’s why, when I see a preview for a movie that looks genuinely scary, I cover my mouth and laugh… because it’s like seeing an old friend. That’s why, when I write a book, I try to write it the way a movie would play out on screen. It’s what I love. It’s what twists me into a monster when presented with a blank page.

And I am a monster. We all are. It just takes a flip of a switch. A series of scenes. Or the flip of the page.

— Ania Ahlborn

Learn more about Ania Ahlborn. Amazon Studios is giving filmmakers a chance to create the official book trailer for her book, Seed, and win $3,000.

YA Wednesday: Exclusives from Amanda Hocking

When I think of a wildly successful self-published author, I usually think of YA author Amanda Hocking and the novels that made her the talk of the publishing world a year ago. Hocking's eBooks have now been successfully brought to print from a major publisher and she's following up the popular Trylle trilogy with a new series, Watersong, that combines contemporary teen life and underwater mythology.  The first book, Wake, released this week and the addictive paranormal suspense novel has already received praise from customers and reviewers alike. 

Hocking is our featured Summer Reading author this week and we've got an embarrassment of riches from her.  In the exclusive essay below Hocking talks about getting trapped on a houseboat while writing Wake, plus her recommended summer reads (and why she loves them) and a video in which she answers fan questions.   What's your favorite Amanda Hocking novel or series?

To get in the right mood to write Wake, I thought it would be fun to rent a houseboat to do some writing. For 10 days, my roommate, my dog, and I were scheduled to be on a houseboat on the Boundary Waters in Northern Minnesota. The Boundary Waters is an incredibly beautiful area, and the landscape definitely played a part in the inspiration for the fictional town of Capri in the Watersong series.

It’s about an eight hour drive from where we live, so after we got the boat, we drove for a little while, and then tied it off in a quiet little cove so we could take naps. This all seemed fine, until we woke up and the boat wouldn’t start. And then our radio wouldn’t work. And we had no cell phone reception. We were trapped.

For three days, we sat on the boat, trying to flag down other boats. Our boat was tied up against a grassy beach alongside a bluff, so we couldn’t walk anywhere. The closest we were to civilization was a very small island with only one house on it, and we hadn’t seen anyone on it. If we didn’t get help soon, I planned on swimming across the lake into Canada to reach it.

Fortunately, a boat eventually did stop, and we were towed back to safety, and everything turned out fine.

But for three days, I just stared at the small island – the only beacon of hope. That island eventually found its way into the book, Wake, as Bernie’s Island. Maybe it was my growing delirium, but something about that seemed almost magical. Overgrown with pines and a worn boathouse at the end, it seemed to hold a few secrets of its own

In Wake, sisters Gemma and Harper Fisher are aware of the pull of Bernie’s Island, but they don’t realize that they’ve only scratched the surface. Harper begins to delve deeper into the magic of Bernie’s Island and the mysteries in Capri in Lullaby – the second book of the series coming 11/27/12. -- Amanda Hocking

Amanda Hocking's Summer Reading Recommendations:

1. Forever by Judy Blume – I read all of Judy Blume’s books one summer when I was a kid, so her books always bring me back to that – carefree summer days, reading outside in the sun. I love all her books, but Forever and Freckle Juice are my favorites.
2. Endlessly by Kiersten White – I read and loved the first two books in the Paranormalcy series, and I am so psyched to see how everything wraps up for Evie.
3. Salem’s Lot by Stephen King – There is something so delicious about reading scary books late into the night during the summer. This one stands out as my favorite horror novel, and it has the creepiest vampires.
4.  Batman: Knightfall by Doug Moench and Chuck Dixon – It would be impossible for me to make a summer reading list that doesn’t include Batman. Knightfall chronicles Batman’s fateful and rather tragic meeting with supervillain Bane, and it ties in perfectly with the release of The Dark Knight Rises.
5. Night by Elie Wiesel – This book was required reading for me in school, and it’s a brilliant, haunting true account of then-teenaged Wiesel’s struggle to survive Nazi death camps. While it may seem a bit dark for summer reading, it really makes you appreciate the freedom of summer all that much more.

Guest Post: J. Michael Straczynski on Why Comic-Con Matters

J. Michael Straczynski (Babylon 5, Changeling) has a special place in his heart for Comic-Con. It's not just an opportunity for JMS to connect with fans of his work in TV, movies and comics — it helped him succeed as a writer, as he explains in this exclusive guest post, written for the Amazon Studios Hollywonk blog:

What’s so special about San Diego Comic-Con? I hear you ask. Yes, that’s right, you, seated in the last row where you thought I wouldn’t notice or call on you. Sit up straight, stop fiddling with your papers and pay attention, because I’m not going to repeat this.

I lived in San Diego from 1974 through 1981, when I made the long trek up to Los Angeles to pursue my writing career in venues a bit broader than were locally available at that time. Despite being a massive comics fan, I was only able to attend SDCC a few times during those years because ... well, frankly, I couldn’t afford it. The con wasn’t unduly expensive, in fact by most measures it was quite a bargain, but at the time every penny I earned as a writer, and there were very few of them, went into buying writing supplies instead of luxuries like convention tickets or food. Which is why despite being 6’3” I weighed only about 145 pounds. I was determined to make it as a writer or die trying.

Whenever I could scrape up enough cash to buy a ticket to SDCC, I did so, even if it meant not eating for a while. It was that important. Why?

Lemme explain.

There is a vast difference between a convention like SDCC and most of the for-profit conventions that are run more by businessmen than by fans. In the case of the latter, there is the audience and there are the participants — the speakers, panelists and special guests — and rarely is there the opportunity for one to become the other.

But that transition, from audience to participant, from fan to professional, is what fan-run conventions are all about. Despite its staggering size and complexity, San Diego Comic Con is the Mount Everest of fan-run conventions. In the course of its history, it has become a Mecca for those who love the visual arts and want to do more than just look on passively.

As a college student, on the few occasions when I had enough cash to buy a ticket to SDCC, I was able to see folks like Harlan Ellison, and Robert Bloch, and Richard Matheson, Ray Bradbury and dozens of other leading professional writers talking about the craft of writing. I often learned more about writing in one hour-long panel hosting luminaries of that level than I’d learned in two years of college work. And then there were all the editors and publishers and agents who came to talk about their part of the business, what they looked for in new and aspiring writers, and what it took to break through the background noise and be noticed by those empowered to purchase your work.

And further down the hall, in the dealers’ and exhibits room, you could find publishers from DC Comics, Marvel and other publishers who would actually take the time to review art by novice illustrators or talk nascent writers through the process of improving your dialogue or breaking down a plot for a comic book.

For as much as the event was about comic book companies and others showcasing their wares, it was also about bringing up the next generation of writers and artists, about the transition from here to there, from fan to professional.

And here’s the amazing, the stunning, the delicious part of it all.

It’s still about that!

There is a supportive and positive tide that runs through the core of San Diego Comic Con that crests in the panel rooms and sweeps people up from their seats and deposits them behind the dais where they encourage the next group to hold on as the tidal surge now starts to come their way. It is as regular as clockwork, as powerful as an earthquake and as intimate as the quiet turning of your considered conscience.

It is a celebration, a passing of the torch, a reunion of glorious madmen and women, a parrot-pretty parade of costumes, a top-flight university in the visual and creative arts...and every year it is my favorite place in the world to visit. Because in the final analysis, the whole thing is about hope.

Read the full post at the Amazon Studios Hollywonk blog.