Enter The Night Gets a New Cover

 I've been playing around with book covers, refreshing some of my older ones. I've been wanting to try my hand at creating some art for one of my books, so I settled on Enter The Night. I did the gas mask with Micron pen and ink/brush. I used an old toothbrush to splatter some red ink, and dirtied the rest up with photo editing. 

If you read the novel, you'll see how the gas mask ties in. You can get Enter The Night on all e-book platforms. I'll be uploading the new cover soon. 

Click here to purchase Enter The Night.

They came to the mountain to hunt ghosts. They ended up as prey. The Iron Mountain Asylum once housed the criminally insane. The worst of the worst. Four men escaped the asylum and were never caught. The legends grew. Some said they lived on the mountain, killing anyone who crossed their path.The contestants on a reality show called Enter the Night are about to find out if the legends are real. Six people. Non-stop filming. A week exploring the abandoned asylum and a military base near the mountain. The contestants will discover that there are things far more frightening on the mountain than ghosts.

Enter The Night has a lot of bloody, slasher horror. What are some of your favorite slasher/psycho killer novels?

New Cover Art For a Horror Western

 I like to refresh cover art every so often. I'll be doing this with some of my titles this year. I'm updating the cover art for my gunslingers vs. monsters novella, Vanished. 

Here's the latest cover. You can buy Vanished here. 

And a synopsis:

Sheriff Will Barnaby is summoned when a member of the missing Hanson party stumbles into the mining town of Wilton, Colorado. Tommy Hanson is dazed and muttering about terrors in the valley near Wilton. The Hanson family disappeared six months prior while setting out in wagons for a new life. Will realizes he'll have to round up a posse and investigate the Hanson boy's story. With the help of his deputy and two hired guns, Will sets out to discover what lurks out in the valley near Wilton.

He will find death and terror waiting for him outside Wilton. And an investigation into missing persons turns into a fight for survival.

An action-filled novella from the author of Murderland and the Last Ride. 

When Social Media Is Bad For Writers

Social media can be a great thing for writers. It allows us to touch base with fellow writers, bloggers, reviewers, and publishers. Writing can be a solitary, lonely endeavor, and social media lets us connect, especially during this time of social distancing. 

Recently, I learned of two anthologies looking for submissions. I promptly wrote some stories and sent them off. Both calls for submission were on Twitter. Had I not been on Twitter, I would've missed the opportunities. As much as social media creates opportunities, at times it can be a detractor.  For myself, I find social media (Twitter, in particular) can bring me down at times. Sometimes, when the following start to happen, I feel the need to unplug from social media for a bit:

1. The news is making me anxious and depressed.

2. I find myself repeatedly doomscrolling instead of spending time reading books.

3. I'm spending more time on social media than writing new books and stories.

4. I'm constantly comparing myself to other writers, wondering if/when I'll have the same success.

One of my goals in 2021 is to read more (I've already read four books) and focus on writing, art, and music, rather than repeatedly refreshing my feeds and scrolling. Social media can be amazing for keeping up on the writing business, but none of us should be afraid to take a break.

And I still believe the most important part of writing is writing. The best marketing you can do is to write the next book or story.  

Ramping Up the Writing

I didn't write much between New Year's Eve and January 6th. Didn't write at all in the few days following the attempted coup. The news and the state of the country have been pretty much a horror show. I've been ramping up the writing the past few days. I guess, as a writer, you need to go to work, the same as any other profession. Writing also provides a distraction from things.

I'm working on the last third of The Foundation. Not sure which book will come after The Foundation. I'm debating writing a sequel to The Island, which would tie into the Nightshade World. I'm also considering writing in some series/shared world series. 

I finished up this pen and ink horror piece yesterday. You can buy prints here. 

 

Getting Ready for New Years

 Started the day with working on a short story for submission to an anthology. It stands at around 1,800 words. I believe the minimum is 2,500 words, so I should be finishing it up soon. 

 Also continuing work on The Foundation, which stands at about 50 percent complete. 

For New Years Eve, it'll just be the five people in our house. This is how we normally spend New Years, even in a non-Covid world. I'm at the point in my life where going out to a bar or partying isn't desirable, anyway. We'll have snacks and hang out. Might have an extra beer or two for the holiday.

I didn't set any New Years' Resolutions. Instead, I'm going to continue to work on the personal goals I've set for myself. I continue to refine these as I go:

Developing my writing Business Plan, with a focus on increasing inventory (titles available). I'm shooting for six new titles next year (between novels and novellas).

Submitting more short stories to pro markets, and indie publishing others.

Continuing on a quest to work out 4-5 times a week. 

Spending less time on social media, and reading more books. My reading has fallen way off over  the past year, and I find myself mindlessly scrolling through social media at times. I used to do the Goodreads' challenge, but found that was just bumming me out and sucking the joy out of reading. 

Making time for some art and guitar playing in the coming year, even if it's only 15-20 minutes a day. 

That's it for me. I hope you all have a good New Year, and that 2021 brings good things. 

Post Christmas

 I'm back to work this week after having last week off. Continuing to work on The Foundation. 

One of my areas of focus is to increase the number of titles I have out in 2021. Ideally, I'd like to do six (some combination of novels and novellas), not counting short stories. I believe that's doable with an average word count of 1,000 per day. 

I got some art supplies and graphic novels for Christmas. Also got some gift cards, which I'll spend on books. My son Matt also got me a cool Mandalorian beer mug.  My lovely wife also made stellar dinners and desserts for the family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. 

A Good Writing Day

I have the week off from my day job, so I'm trying to get more writing and writing-related tasks done. I got 1,200 words this morning on The Foundation.  I crossed the 25,000-word mark, which isn't quite halfway done. I expect this one to weigh in around 60,000 words when finished.

I started watching Blood Quantum on Shudder and got about an hour in. Interesting zombie flick. I'll try and watch the rest of it this evening.

I have to head out to get some stocking stuffers. I'm going to go to our local CVS, which isn't typically busy. Going to mask up, get in, and get out.  I'll probably wrap some presents later in preparation for the big day. 

Short Story Completed

 I finished up a short story this morning for submission to an anthology this morning. Our dogs were up at 5:15 a.m. More specifically, our fourteen-year-old dog decided she no longer wanted to be in the crate. That caused a chain reaction, and our two puppies were up shortly after.

I decided to take advantage of being up early with a relatively quiet house. Got the aforementioned short story finished and got some more words on the novel-in-progress.

Last night's Mandalorian finale was excellent. I won't spoil it, but my Star Wars fanboy heart skipped a beat. The bounced back nicely from the previous week's episode, which I thought was weak. Bill Burr doesn't really fit in to the Star Wars universe, and I found his character grating. 

We're going to bake some Christmas cookies today and put up our tree tomorrow. Trying to make things feel a little more like Christmas and stagger to the end of this crazy year. 

A Writing Update

 I just crossed the 20K word mark on the latest novel, entitled The Foundation. I have a cover design worked up. I'm looking to release this sometime early in 2021, possibly February. 

The Foundation is a dark thriller with no supernatural elements. However, that doesn't mean it's lacking in the horror department. This one's got some nasty scenes. 

I have two short story ideas I'm getting ready to write. Part of my business plan for 2021 is to write more short stories with the intention of indie publishing or submitting to markets. I'm also going to throw some novellas into the mix, as well.

Some New Horror-Themed Artwork

I was joking with my wife that I created some new, cheerful artwork just for the holidays. You can have a look at my two latest creations below. I think they're quite festive. Okay, maybe not. But I'm not about to start drawing reindeer and mistletoe.

On Not Letting People Crap on Your Dreams

Last night, on Twitter, I saw a post where a writer was dismayed about a friend's opinion on some stories the writer had sent the friend. The friend basically told the writer that the stories were crap and that the writer should give up on writing. 

I'll be frank. The friend's comments pissed me off. I responded to the tweet, encouraging the writer to keep at it (as did many others in the writing community). 

If you've shared the dream of becoming a writer with others, I'd bet bet more than a few bucks you've heard at least one of the following:

There's no money in it.

When are you going to get serious about things?

Are you still writing that stuff? (This is usually directed at genre writers)

Very few people make it as writers.

You need to focus on something different.

You can't write until you have more life experience (I heard this one as a young writer).

You need to pick a more stable career.

Often, these comments come from "well-meaning" friends and family who "are just being real." In reality, these comments often cut, chipping away at a writer's confidence and making them question themselves.

I firmly believe you should surround yourself with people who are supportive and encouraging of your goals. This doesn't mean having people around to pump up your ego or shower you with nothing but effusive praise. Rather, people who will cheer you on and celebrate your achievements. People who will recognize that a dream or goal is important to you. 

Not people who will take a dump on your dreams. 

I would have simple advice for dealing anyone who admonishes or belittles your dreams.  If someone makes negative comments about your writing goals, tell them how important it is to you. If they persist, I suggest evaluating if you want to have a relationship with that person. Or at the very least, if you want to share your aspirations with them. A well placed "fuck off" can work wonders, as well. Use at your own discretion.

You don't need anyone's permission to write. It's your life. Your dreams. Not theirs. 

Keep writing. 

The World Needs Stories

I've been struggling with how much to mention writing or promote books this year. With the pandemic still raging and the country in political turmoil, talking about a new book release can seem trivial. Or worse, insensitive.

However, this year,  since March, I've purchased a ton of books. Reading and stories have been a welcome distraction to world events. And honestly, I'm happy to learn when my favorite writers are releasing new books. 

I think we need more stories. New books. New movies.  New music. These things help us cope with the horrors of the world. So maybe, as writers (and creatives), we shouldn't hold back sharing our work, or that bit of good news about sales or new releases on the horizon. Share your work proudly, and that of your favorite artists or writers. That ideal reader might be out there waiting for your book. 

 

Writing Update and Some Artwork

 I crossed the 10K word mark on my latest project, a dark thriller entitled The Foundation. It's moving along nicely. I'm hoping to have this ready for a January, 2021 release.

Here's my latest sketch, a horror-themed drawing of someone you wouldn't want to meet in the woods. Prints available at Artpal.com. My store is Izzoartworks. 

A Tour With Monsters - Excerpt from The Island

For today's post, I thought I'd put up an excerpt from my novella, The Island. The Island loosely ties into Nightshade, my most recent werewolf novel. In the excerpt below, Rick and his wife Julie get a glimpse of some of the creatures that inhabit the island. You can get The Island Here (e-book and paperback). Also available on other e-book platforms.

It's the horror fan's ultimate dream. A tour of an island where legendary monsters are real. Escorted by armed guards, lifelong friends Rick and Nate travel to the island as a birthday surprise for Rick. They soon find out that the island's inhabitants are hungry, and the tour turns into a fight for survival. 

A an action-packed horror novella loaded with monsters and gore from the author of The Dead Land Trilogy.

Back in the room, Rick jumped a little as the air raid siren Sutherland had mentioned began its mournful howl. It reminded Rick of old war movies. And Sutherland hadn’t been kidding. It was definitely an old-time air raid siren.  

Rick was standing at the window overlooking the high concrete wall and the lush view beyond. Julie came up beside him, gripped his hand.  

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. 

“Wondering what Nate’s gotten us into,” he said. 

“It’s not dull, that’s for sure. I feel bad for him sometimes.” 

Rick said, “Why’s that?” 

“Because Eve’s got a stick in her twat half the time about something or other.” 

Rick laughed. The wine had definitely loosened her tongue. “Sounds like that’s all that’s been in her twat lately, according to her.” 

She laughed. It was a big laugh with no hint of self-consciousness. He’d always loved her laugh. Didn’t matter where they were. She’d break out a belly laugh anywhere, fuck who was listening to them. He turned, slipped his arms around her waist. She slipped hers around the back of his neck, stroked his hair. 

He kissed her hard and she pressed against him, backed him up against the window. 

As he kissed her harder, she pulled away and gasped. 

“Jesus Christ!” she said. 

“What?” 

“Something huge just swooped across the sky.” 

She broke away from him and looked out the window.  

He turned and looked, palm on the glass. He tapped it. “This is some thick glass.” 

It was a few inches thick, perhaps designed to stop a bullet. Or something else. “Okay, so you saw a big bird. There could be big birds up here. Eagles, I suppose.” 

“It wasn’t just a bird, Rick.” 

The air raid siren was still going in the background.  

On the wall outside, he saw two men come running, one with a high-powered rifle, and the other with what looked like a pair of night-vision goggles.  The man with the goggles pointed to the sky.  

He saw what Eve was talking about. Something roughly the size and shape of a man swooped across the sky. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? It had leathery wings and a misshapen skull. It rose high in the air and then dove down, heading for the men on the wall. 

The crack of the gun startled them both. They flinched.  

The flying creature turned away, spun out of control, and dipped beneath the wall. He watched the man with the rifle lean over  and fire two more shots. He then turned and signaled to someone out of sight. 

“What the fuck was that?” Rick asked. 

“I don’t know. But let’s get away from the window, huh?” Julie said. 

 

  

Jimi Hendrix and the Art of Doing Things Scared

I was perusing You Tube the other day and came across a video of Jimi Hendrix playing an acoustic version of "Hear My Train A Comin'." What struck me was that around the 50 second mark, Hendrix stops playing and asks if he can start over. He also tells the camera operator that he was scared to death. 

To see Hendrix in interviews, he came off as a shy, introspective person. But when he strapped on a guitar, he breathed fire on stage. When he picked up the Strat, the quiet, thoughtful guy disappeared, and the guitar god took over.

I think there's something to be learned from the video. When the guy who's generally regarded as one of the best, most innovative guitar players in history is nervous about performing, there's hope for the rest of us mortals.

Fear often stops creatives in their tracks. Stops people from indie publishing work, submitting to a short story market, sharing their guitar playing in public, or displaying art. 

I think we're all nervous about sending our creative efforts out into the world. You have to put the fear aside and do it anyway. Put the fear away and send your stuff out into the world. Become that fire-breathing monster. And remember that someone as great as Jimi was just as nervous as the rest of us. 

Anthony Izzo Interviewed in Local Paper

 I was interviewed a few weeks back for our local paper. If you'd like, you can read the interview here. I also donated some of my books as prizes for the paper's pumpkin carving contest.  One note, "A Rough Night at the Redeye Mine" is actually a short story I wrote, not a novel or novella. The paper did a nice job, and I made the front page. I appreciate The Advertiser thinking of me for a piece. Nice shot of the cover for "The Lacerated Sky" as well.

I'm trying to get in at least fifteen minutes of drawing per day, and hoping to play guitar for 15 minutes a day, as well. In the coming year, I want to build up my writing business, and this will be my main focus. But I also think it's good to have varied interests, and want to make a little time each day for hobbies, as well.

Here's a Venom ink and marker drawing I did yesterday. Just because he's always a fun character to sketch. Prints are available at Artpal. 

A Fire Demon Painting - Some Artwork

I purchased a new set of Liquitex acrylic paints this weekend. Got some work done on the new novel, then painted this after dinner.  If you like it, you can buy a print at Artpal.com.

Some Recent Horror Art

 Not many updates to post tonight, but thought I'd share a few of my recent works. The first is a "zombified" Wolverine, and the second is an acrylic painting of the masked man himself. I have prints for sale up at Artpal.com.

Things Writers Need To Stop Saying

If you're like me, these types of thoughts routinely run through your mind. I think it applies to most writers, and creative types in general. These types of thoughts will stop your writing and creative goals dead. So banish or execute them as needed.  They only serve to hold you up (and likely aren't true). 

I suck/this sucks (You don't. Everyone starts somewhere, and you can improve your craft through study and practice). 

No one will want to read this. (There are billions of people in the world. Do you honestly think no one at all will like it?)

No one will publish this. (Send it out anyway. We're not the best judges of our own work. If your work gets rejected, send it again. Repeat as needed.)

I'm a fraud. (Everyone feels this way. Keep going.)

No one will buy this. (See No one will want to read this.)

My parents/friends/partner told me I shouldn't do this. (If the people around you constantly crap on your goals/dreams,  you may want to re-evaluate the relationship.)

I'll never achieve success. (The most successful people in the world started from nothing.)

Everyone else is more successful than me. (Comparison is deadly. Put in the work. Keep going. Keep learning and improving.)

 

Blood Will Rain Down - An Excerpt From My Latest Novella

The draft of The Lacerated Sky is complete. It finished up at just over 26,000 words (a little over 100 pages). A good length for a novella, I think. 

Here's an excerpt. Planning on releasing this one before month's end.

The Lacerated Sky

Copyright 2020 Anthony Izzo

The sky was strange.  

Tim Greenbow looked up as he exited Wilson’s Hardware. The clouds had taken on a pinkish tinge. It was overcast, the sun blocked out for the moment. But dammit if the storm clouds overhead weren’t pink. 

Tim squinted. You could see veins of red running through them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the weather app. The Weather Channel was showing the possibility of thunderstorms.  

A breeze kicked up and blew a Snickers wrapper across the sidewalk.  

He wondered about a tornado forming, but there’d been no warnings, and he was certain the sky got green or something with tornadoes. Still, it was damned weird. 

He’d been replacing the flush valve on the upstairs bathroom toilet. The tank bolts were shot, so he’d taken a ride into town. Wilson’s was one of the last independent hardware stores in the area. He sure as shit didn’t feel like driving two towns over to Lowe’s. 

Now, as he walked back to his pickup truck, Strider poked his head out the passenger window. He gave an enthusiastic bark, the Shepherd’s ears perking up.  

Along with the toilet tank bolts, Tim had gotten a jerky treat for Strider. Wilson’s had them in a plastic container on the counter. Strider knew it, because every time Tim went, he got the dog a treat.  

He got to the truck, scratched Strider between the ears, and offered the treat. Strider snapped it up, gobbled it down, and licked Tim’s hand.  

“That’s a good boy.” 

He heard a siren wail, and a moment later, a fire engine raced down the street, lights going. A ladder truck chased after it a moment later.  

Strider whined. He didn’t like sirens. 

Tim got in the truck and checked the time. It was just past noon. The dog watched him, as if to say, “We going?” Tim’s stomach rumbled. He had to go grocery shopping and had little to eat in the house. A can of beef vegetable soup didn’t seem appetizing. 

He decided to get a burger-to-go from The Stackhouse down the street.  

As he started up the truck, the classic rock station broke into some news. Seems there was a large fire at the Department of Energy lab over in Dell. That was about twenty miles from here. Fire and Hazmat crews were responding. Local officials were urging people to stay indoors.  

“Weird,” Tim said. “Wonder if that’s why the clouds look so funny?” 

Strider chuffed, as if putting in his opinion on the subject.  

Thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning flashed. It had a red tinge to it. The flash left an imprint on his eyeballs. 

He considered just heading home and settling for a can of soup. Strider was bound to get jumpy in the storm. He’d rescued the Shepherd as a pup, just after Ana passed away. 

Tim never expected to be a widower at forty-six. Hadn’t expected to find Ana dead on the living room floor from a brain aneurism, either. The doctor at the ER told him she hadn’t suffered, that she was likely gone when she hit the floor. That didn’t help. Dead was dead. His best friend and wife of eighteen years was gone. 

They’d never wanted kids. He was glad for Strider. The house had been too quiet after Ana died. The dog was good company, and had even taken to sleeping with Tim. He didn’t mind, as long as Strider kept to the other side of the bed. 

“I suppose I have time to grab a quick burger. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll share.” 

Strider woofed his approval. 

He looked up out the windshield. A pink mist had settled among the clouds. Lightning flashed in the mist. It was damned eerie. They were likely going to get one hell of a storm. 

He phoned in his order. They said to give it fifteen minutes. That would give Tim enough time to grab his burger and get going home. Hopefully, he’d beat the storm.