Frost officially releases November 1. The following is an excerpt from the book. If you’ve already pre-ordered, don’t forget to enter the giveaway.
Chapter 1
Tonya Katz is a Grade A bitch, and I am reminded of this each time I’m in her presence. You can dilute it with more palatable language if you like, but I’ll roll with the truth, thank you very much.
I play with the word on my tongue, rolling it around but not saying it. Bitch, bitch, bitch.
She isn’t mean; meanness would be a welcome moment of humanity for Tonya Katz. She’s exceedingly nice—that’s the deal—and the first few times you meet her, it’s easy to mistake it for real, genuine warmth. It once led me to the edge of liking her. But after that—after things progress past surface talk and simple pleasantries and oh well it sure looks like rain, doesn’t it?—that’s when you realize who Tonya Katz really is. Which is to say, she’s no one; the broad either doesn’t have a real personality, or she’s so ashamed of it, she smothers it with canned lines and pageant smiles until it’s unrecognizable. Why someone would choose to live this way, I don’t know. How exhausting.
The day hath arrived. My third book and first fiction novel, Emails from Heaven, has been released in kindle and paperback formats.
I put everything I had into this one, gang, and I think you’ll like it. Or at the very least, find it interesting. One quick nugget about the process of putting this book together:
I did everything wrong. And I don’t care.
I don’t mean there are grammatical errors or I put ampersands where periods are supposed to be or anything. It just means that there is prevailing wisdom about the “right” way to do things when writing and publishing books, and I generally ignored all of it.
First, traditional publishing. The agent-brokered contract with a big New York publishing house, the monetary advance and print distribution in bookstores (those that are left, anyway). The long romanticized publishing dream and sure sign of literary status. Well, it doesn’t take more than a google search to learn that this dream is not in line with the reality of signing a deal with the Big 5 (4? 3? How many are we down to now?) book publishers, at least anymore. And for someone who watches the publishing industry as close as I do, it’s obvious that “traditional” publishing, at least as we know it today, is dying. A sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. This route isn’t a viable one anymore, at least not for someone like me, but luckily there are numerous other (better) options.
Second, genre-hopping. I wrote two nonfiction, anecdotal humor books, then switched to a quasi-thriller/suspense novel. This is considered a no-no; something about confusing your readers. But I’m out of short stories, at least for now, and I don’t plan on living in Alaska again anytime soon. This is the book I wanted to write.
I wrote a story with religious themes, but without a message of religious dogma. The characters use curse words. It doesn’t fit into one clear-cut genre. There’s no potential to turn it into a series. All these things are frowned upon, at least if you pay attention to conventional wisdom, but I don’t care.
I don’t care because, as I said before, I wrote the book I wanted to write, and told the story I wanted to tell, at least to the best of my ability. And on a base level, when all the marketing and window dressing is stripped away, we write because we love it. I loved writing this book, and now I want to share it with you. And if that’s as far as things go, I’m a happy man.
Hey guys! GUYS! I wanted to let you know that my second book, Quitting Cold Stone (And Other Struggles) is out as an eBook today. It’s $2.99, just like the first one, so once again for less than the price of a Starbucks vanity beverage you can be laughing till the proverbial cows come home.
This one’s a really light read. It’s basically a collection of some of (what I thought were) my best blog posts from the past, revised and updated and packaged with a whole bunch of new content in the same format. For example, some chapters are:
– The Road to Branson
– The Wonders of Bob Ross
– Defending Nickelback
– Confessions of a Wi-Fi Thief
– To the Guy Who Leaves His Grocery Cart in the Middle of the Parking Lot
Anyway, I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s currently just available in Kindle format, but I’ll be working on paperback and other formats and will of course annoy you with another blog post when those happen.
I leave you with this picture and quote from Sisqo. Not because he has anything to do with the book, but because sometimes we need a reminder of what we’ve been through as a nation.
Have you read Memoirs of a Gas Station? Are you currently reading it? Is it in your metaphorical “to read” pile? Are you considering reading it, but first trying to get over your deep-rooted psychological aversion to books?
If you answered “no” to all of these questions, that’s okay. Seriously, it’s cool. I’m not even mad. I mean, sure, I put like a year and change into writing the thing, and I’m basically baring my soul for the whole world to see…but no big deal. I promise. Would you excuse me for a second?
If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, then welcome. Come on in, take off your shoes, and get comfy. Let go of your inhibitions. Be with me. Take your coat off and let me fix you a drink. Scotch okay? Great. For you, I have a little something. You know when you read a book and your mind creates little mental pictures of people and places? I’ve come to destroy those. Not because I hate you…I love you. I just thought it might be fun to put some visuals with the words. So…some photos from the cast and crew of Memoirs:
This is Jim. I chose this particular out-of-focus shot because it captures the essence of working at a gas station: dread, regret, and shame. This was taken immediately after Jim found out he would be spending his summer working at the Lynx Creek Store. See the smirk on his face? He couldn’t help but smile a little at how much life had screwed him over. I can almost here him asking “Why, God? Why me?” It was a true low point in his life, and like any good friend, I was there to capture the moment.
This is Horseshoe Lake, the sight of many moose and beaver viewings. It was a fairly popular, yet cozy little spot. The farthest body of water you can see – on the left side – is the Nenana River. Our living quarters were situated near the banks of that river.
This is a bear. Not exactly sure where I found this guy, but I assume I was staring him down, holding a Bowie knife, and daring the son of a bitch to attack. Or I was in a seat on a bus, taking this picture through a glass window. You decide.
Damian (left) and Kenny, early in the season, getting ready to attack some hills near a place called Toklat. Yes, that Kenny.
On the banks of Horseshoe Lake, watching a moose eat dinner. On the other side, some parents and snot-nosed kids look on.
This is a Dall Sheep. I named him Roland. Kenny and I were near Savage River, climbing a mountain and looking for a suitable campsite, and this guy kept following us. At one point I stopped and waited for him to crest the hill, then snapped a quick picture before he could gore me or whatever they do with those horns.
That’s it for now, but do come back for more in the future!
Following the release of my book Memoirs of a Gas Station(*cough cough* $2.99 on Amazon *cough*), I’ve been digging through the media archives for pictures and short videos of the excursion. This is partly for general reminiscence and partly to make sure I haven’t grossly distorted any facts (no comment). In the process I’ve come across some entertaining little nuggets, which I’ll be sharing here in the near (and possibly far) future.
Today, I’d like to take a look at this gem: it’s a quick video chronicling some minor home surgery on one of my fingers. And by “minor home surgery,” I mean thrusting a blackened needle through the fingernail to release the considerable pressure from blood that had built up underneath it. If you’ve read the book, you’ll recall this was a consequence of accidentally let it slam between two large steel doors with faulty springs. This was also the same time I realized the dining hall closed at 7 p.m. It was 7:15. I was hungry. Overall, not a good night.
The finger of course turned purple and immediately swelled up to the size of a small pineapple. And, oh, it kind of hurt. In the coming days the swelling would get better, but as the fluid beneath the fingernail filled up more it became almost impossible to use the finger, for each time it was so much grazed by a paper bag I was using to corral some senior citizen’s six-pack at the gas station, my hand would shoot with pain. It was during one such bagging session when a passerby noticed how I was favoring the finger, and told me to use the technique shown below.
This video is highly embarrassing for a few reasons. First, judging by the pitch of my voice, I either hadn’t gone through puberty when this was shot or had just inhaled a balloon full of helium. Whatever. Second: the obvious physical and mental struggle I went through just trying to accomplish the simple task of putting a needle through my fingernail. I was clearly confused on the proper procedure, and I think my hands were sweaty because I knew it was all being captured on camera.
Regardless, roll the tape.
That was Part 1. You probably noticed a voice in the background talking to some hipster probably named Blake about some band probably called Animal Collective. That was Jim – much more on him on this blog in the future. He was on the other side of the room looking away, because he knew what was going on and had some blood/sight issues. I offered him a spot on the surgical team, but he for some reason declined.
Anyway, we took a break to strategize the best practice for the procedure, and somewhere in that discussion the needle found its way into where it needed to be. Which is when the camera began rolling again. WARNING: This one is a little more graphic. So if you’re squeamish…just be ready to cover your eyes.
And just like that, Kenny – who had been observing the ordeal –grew tired of my inability to finish, jumped right in with his unsweaty hands, and pulled the damn thing out. I really do owe him. The finger got much better after this (I squeezed most of the blood out), and eventually the fingernail just fell off to make way for a new one. The circle of life, ladies and gentlemen.
I’d like to thank Kenny for his uncanny action and also the female behind the camera – who will remain nameless, to protect her innocence – for shooting it.
Please feel free to share similar experiences or just make fun of me in the comments section down at the bottom of the page.
Everyone please gather around for a quick announcement in the form of shame-free self-promotion:
In case you were wondering, my first book, Memoirs of a Gas Station, has been released as a Kindle e-book. It’s a fun and totally-worth-your-time account of one summer I spent working at a gas station in central Alaska. If you enjoy this blog at all, I can definitely probably guarantee you’ll enjoy Memoirs as well, because it contains the same sarcastic tone and general view on life. And a whole bunch of hilarious and fulfilling stories about animals and hippies and hitchhiking and stuff. Plus, it’s cheap – only $2.99. What a deal! You can get it for pretty much any technological device you own (not necessarily just a Kindle, although that works too). Click here to take a look.
Good people of the world:
Hey guys! GUYS! I wanted to let you know that my second book, 
“Unleash the Dragon.”
