I read a pdf version of the novel, and the first thing I really noticed was the aesthetics of the book. Schatz put some time and thought into the design and proofreading of the book. Often when I think of indie books, I think of them the way they were 10 or 20 years ago: rife with typos and/or editing mistakes. That’s not the case with several indie authors I’ve been reading lately (Kait Nolan, M.B. Mulhall, et al).

That said, the novel is an entertaining mystery/suspense novel with a professional baseball umpire as its protagonist. It’s a unique setup, and the story is engaging. The cast of characters is entertaining, and Schatz has a great eye for detail and does a good job of wringing the tense moments dry.

Schatz was repped by an agent at one point, but was dropped when the agent couldn’t find a home for his work. That’s a shame, too, because the Marshall Connors series is good. It’s a shame, too, because Schatz is the kind of author who would have been given an opportunity to grow and learn his craft, to be coached by talented and dedicated editors.

In other words, he would have been a solid mid-list author at one of the Big Six publishers.

But since the publishing world is consistently and constantly changing — and because the mid-list is essentially dead in the water — Schatz has done what other writers like J.A. Konrath have done: embraced independent publishing.

Writers like Schatz deserve a commercial publishing contract — not only for the good work they’re doing now, but because it’s clear they can do even more, given time and editorial instruction. Unfortunately that doesn’t happen anymore. Mid-list authors all over are either disappearing or having to reinvent themselves in order to have a shot at getting published.

Schatz has all the tools to be a very good author. In this particular book, he tells a tightly plotted story. Read carefully and you can see how the thing is built, brick upon brick, into something sturdy. Breeze through it like most readers, and it will appear simply to be one thing, created whole. It takes real talent to build a mystery/suspense novel so seamlessly.

But I stand by my earlier statement: Schatz is the kind of author who would benefit from an old-school editor-and-writer relationship to tighten his writing. It’s something he’s going to learn anyway, because of the professionalism he obviously brings to his work. But working closely with a good editor would speed that process.

There are, however, some issues. The details Schatz brings out can often be beautiful. Sometimes, though, they can bog the story down. It’s never enough to make you stop reading, but it’s enough in some instances to make the reader skip ahead.

And skipping ahead is the last thing any writer wants a reader to do.

Schatz has written two more volumes of the Marshall Connors series, and I look forward to reading both of them — not only because I like the setup and characters, but also because I’m looking forward to seeing how Schatz pushes himself and grows into being an even stronger author.

I highly recommend reading Game 7: Dead Ball. Pick it up at Amazon in paperback or e-book.

1) My son took his first steps yesterday, and I got to see it. It was incredibly powerful, and I’m still at a loss to say how wonderful it was. Imagine the best thing ever in your life, and double it. No, triple it. It was wonderful to see him take those first few little movements forward. I wish his mom had gotten to see it too, but she was in another room at the time.

2) Yet another tornado blasted Alabama last night. Misty and I spend a largely sleepless night, listening to the rain and wind. By the time the lightning and thunder got her, I think we were back asleep. My heart breaks for the families of those killed or hurt in this latest tornado outbreak, but at the same time, I’m glad it missed Tuscaloosa. I don’t think we could take another one.

3) I just finished Allen Schatz’s fine novel, Game 7: Dead Ball. I received a free copy for review purposes, and now that life has calmed down a little at the Mathews household, a full review is forthcoming. But here’s a quick blurb: Schatz is talented, and the tale is told well. The best thing I can tell you about Schatz’s writing is that he’s a craftsman. This novel is built like a good ocean-going vessel: no leaks, smooth sailing.

4) I produced and directed another commercial for my day job, and I have high hopes for it. I’m supposed to be looking at a rough cut this week for final approval. I had the incredible professionalism of local actor Molly Page to help, and Will Nevin bailed me out when a couple of people fell out at the last minute. Those are great people, and I definitely owe them one.

5) Friday is my wife’s 29th birthday, so for just a few months she will only be 11 years younger than me. This should tell you something about my family: My wife didn’t want presents, just good people around her. Oh, and an ice-cream bar. How many 29-year-olds have an ice cream social as a birthday party?

That’s the news from here. Hope this week is just as good for you as it looks like it’s going to be for me.

That’s not to say there’s not a lot of dreck out there (because there is), but there are also a lot of indie writers who present themselves and their work professionally. I’m a fan of people like that.

Get this book. No, seriously! It's FREE!

Technically, I have two stories (with more to come) at Smashwords. These stories are free, and will hopefully whet your appetite for some of my longer work, which I plan on publishing later this year. First one’s free, as all the pushers used to say.

The first one’s called His Lucky Day, and it’s one of my favorite stories. It’s gone through several rewrites over the years (I think I first wrote it back in 1996 or 97), but I like this version the best. From the product description: When down-on-his-luck private eye Eddie Whittaker wins $19 million in the lottery, he thinks his troubles are all over. The truth is, they’re just beginning.

I have an obsession with winning big. I’m not sure why that is, but it’s something I noticed with the second story I decided to publish. Again there’s a big winner — and a big loser. Which character is which is up for you to decide.  From the product description: He knew that slot machine was gonna pay off big. But his luck was against him–in more ways than one–and another man claimed the jackpot. But there’s more than one way to win or lose in New Orleans, and the casino’s got nothing on the high-stakes game going on in the hotel penthouse. Up there, it’s life or death.

A lot of you know I consider myself something of a book reviewer. I’ve had harsh words to say about other people’s books. I guess the question is this: Can I do any better? Something that’s always stuck with me: Benjamin Disraeli once said, “Critics are men who have failed in literature and in art.” I don’t want to fail. But I also don’t want to have never tried, either.

Get this one too. It's also FREE! Come on. You KNOW you wanna.

So anyway, I hope you’ll join me on this little indie writer trip. I don’t know if it’s going to be for good, or if this will be one of the many interesting side-trips my life has taken. (And really, isn’t that what makes life worth it in the end? The experiences you gain on those interesting little side trips are more valuable than many of the things you plan. Or at least that’s been my experience.)

Like I was saying: These stories are free. They are what they are (by which I mean to say I hope they’re an introduction to my writing and a good representation of the small sliver of talent I possess) — hardboiled and mean, stories about people who have been stepped on by life’s hobnailed boot, beaten down and bloodied, who come out for the next round swinging with the best punches they’ve got.

Even if it isn’t enough. Not nearly enough in these two cases.

That’s probably another thing I should explain. I wrote both of these stories awhile back. Gamble is the newer of the two. But they have something in common: The guy who wrote them (that’d be me–or at least a younger version of me) didn’t believe in happy endings. In fact, he didn’t believe in much at all. You’ll find much nihilism in these stories. I don’t mind that, but it seems sometimes as if another person wrote them and I was just standing over his shoulder and watching as he did it.

It didn’t happen that way, of course. I wrote them, and they’ve never quite left me alone. Here’s hoping they’ll bother you a little bit, too.

BCS Championship game! Hey, I live in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I realize football wasn’t invented here, but it WAS perfected. Alabama claims 13 national championships, and we’re hopefully putting the finishing touches on No. 14. Technically this doesn’t happen until Monday at 7:30 p.m., CST, but that just means there are a couple of extra days to tailgate. It’ll be dead in Tuscaloosa Monday, and raucous that night. Roll Tide!

My kid walks! He looks a great deal like a zombie — knees straight, feet stabbing at the floor. He’s using a walker-toy that my parents got him for Christmas, and it’s just about the cutest thing ever. I plan some major walking time with the little guy over the weekend. As a parent — hell, as a DAD — I think it’s massively important for me to have time like that with my son.

Reading. I’ve got a new book to review, and one I’ve had on the back-burner for awhile. Two independently published books: Allen Schatz’s Game 7: Dead Ball, and M.B. Mulhall’s Near Death. I’ve got to re-read M.B.’s offering, but I remember really enjoying it when I read it as one of her beta readers. Schatz’s book is about baseball. And murder. The way I feel about the Atlanta Braves’ management these days, I can completely relate.

Company’s coming! We have an out-of town guest coming later this month, so if I have a top priority this weekend, it’s to Clean. The. House. So apparently spring cleaning is going to get underway a little early. We have a kid, though — isn’t the house SUPPOSED to be a wreck?

Prep time! In that same vein, I have been procrastinating (I am definitely a pro — lost my amateur status a LOOOOONG time ago) on finishing our kitchen/dining room floors. I’m about ready to tear it all up and start over from scratch. I’m going to get all my ducks in a row this weekend. It’s me or the floor, and the damned tiles are NOT going to win!

This has been your Friday Five. Return to your regularly scheduled program! Have a great weekend, all!

I’d never read Klavan, but there was a great blurb on the book jacket by none other than Stephen King. I’d followed King’s recommendation of Meg Gardiner a few years back and enjoyed almost all of her work, so I dove into this new book with high expectations.

If I’ve learned one thing from this experience, it’s to never trust a Stephen King blurb again.

The novel follows Jason Harrow, a successful Midwestern developer, as he returns to New York to confront his sordid past, and uncovers a terrorist plot to bomb a major film opening. Racing against the clock, Harrow tries to prevent a disaster—and save the life of the daughter he never knew he had.

Sounds like a good setup, right? And it is. There should be a good novel in here somewhere. I keep looking for it and just not finding it.

There are some major flaws in this book, and one of them is the way Klavan deals with his main character’s core beliefs. He lets us know right up front that Harrow is a conservative Christian—and then he beats us with that club for the rest of the book.

If your story is second to your politics, you are not doing your job as a novelist. Period. I don’t care who you are or what you believe.

As a disclaimer here: I have nothing against conservatism, and I am a Christian, though I think it’s wrong that a political group has co-opted Jesus Christ as a symbol of something he never was.

My problems with Empire of Lies, however, begin with this: Harrow’s point of view leaves him brittle and unable to relate to other characters in the novel. And of course, his conservative values always see him through. He’s an unlikeable one-note character, and it’s hard to root for him throughout the book.

And what about his conservative values? Look, I’m really not one to argue politics. I think everyone is wrong—whether the Left or the Right. I don’t mind a narrator or main character with ideas, even ideas contrary to my own. What I mind is the author’s clumsy way of throwing a political viewpoint (and sometimes flat-out name-calling) into the book.

It was so bad that there were times I pitched the book across the room. The reason I kept reading was because I wanted to see how bad it got. And it got bad, dear reader. Eye-rolling, laugh-out-loud, ludicrously bad. Every conservative finds success. Every liberal finds heartbreak and unhappiness. And there’s no room for anyone in the center. Characters in Empire of Lies can be clearly delineated into good, strong conservatives or weak, craven liberals.

Stuff like that takes a reader out of the story, and that’s bad. As a reader, I’m there for the story, and that’s all. I’m not there for a primer on why conservative Christian values are wonderful and will save the country. I can live with a main character who believes that—hell, I can even support that—but not when it’s done so badly. I’d say the same thing about any political point of view.

And lest you think I’m picking on just Klavan, the great and legendary John D. MacDonald used to do a similar thing in his Travis McGee series. Every now and then, MacDonald would rail against the developers and thieves and crooked politicians who populated his adopted state of Florida. And every time he does it, he takes the reader out of the story.

I was also disappointed in the villains of the book (and, wow, there were many): mainstream media in all its varied formats, the university system, and, of course, terrorists. Muslim ones. Because as we know, all Muslims are a threat to the American way of life. (How I wish there was a sarcasm font. Comic sans, maybe?)

The picture of Klavan goes on the right, as is fitting.

There are, however, some entertaining parts to the book. Klavan’s take on Patrick Piersall (whom readers will recognize as a barely disguised William Shatner) is spot-on, perfect, and hilarious. His characterizations of vapid Hollywood stars and starlets are also great (again the only slightly veiled real-life love triangle of Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie).

The action was serviceable but not great, with one incredibly unbelievable moment where the untrained, amateur protagonist fights off four wild-eyed terrorists who have invaded his mother’s home. Reading that scene, I literally rolled my eyes.

At the end of the book—mercifully, it did finally end—I tried to talk to my wife about the book, to articulate my thoughts. I was so aggravated with the possibility of the story versus what the actual product was that I couldn’t even vent properly.

“Oh well,” my wife finally said. “At least it was only a dollar.”

I’m not sure how to break it to her, but she overpaid.

So without further ado, here’s the list of writing-related goals for the year:

1) Revise and edit my YA manuscript, Little Miss Perfect, into something salable and seek representation for it.

2) Complete the first draft of my gritty urban fantasy, Legion. (Hey, I’m already 10K words in!)

3) Complete the first draft of my end-of-Prohibition-era crime novel, The Antioch Curve. (I’m 22K words into this one!)

4) Write 2,000 words EVERY DAY. (This is one I expect to have some trouble keeping, but I’m damn sure gonna try. You realize if I hit this goal, I’ll have written 730,000 words in a year. Freaky.)

5) Update this site three times a week–Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays–and I’m SO pumped for some things on the horizon! Author interviews, book giveaways. You don’t even KNOW!

6) Write six new short stories for the site.

7) Gain 100 new Twitter followers. And I mean quality followers, not spambots or Triberr users. (Aren’t they the same thing? Kidding, kidding!)

8) Attend one writing conference.

9) Get one of my current WIPs ready to query. And query!

10) Land an agent. (Yeah, I have less control over this, but I’m going to put more work into this than I’ve ever done before. It can be done!)

Is this an ambitious list? Absolutely. But I’m an ambitious writer. I want my work out there for people to see, so this is the year. Head down, eye on the ball.

Bring it, 2012.

Next up: Wednesday, I review an atrocity of a novel I received for Christmas. Trust me when I tell you that you won’t want to miss this one.

If you’ve ever read the Twilight saga and wondered what it might have been like if a talented writer had written it, then Red is the book for you. In Nolan’s hands, I bought everything — the werewolf mythos, the teenagers who are meant to be together, the forces which kept them apart, and the inevitable happy ending.

It all worked together so well, I had to go back and read it again to marvel at the skill it took to make this book look so easy.

If I have to quibble (and I must, else what’s a reviewer for?), I would say that the chief antagonist for Elodie and love interest Sawyer was a little TOO easy to identify for an experienced reader and, in the end, too easy to defeat. But that’s a minor, minor complaint. The villain’s comeuppance was completely satisfying.

The story is told in alternating first-person viewpoint: first, the remarkably likeable Elodie, then the brooding heartthrob Sawyer. Their viewpoints build carefully upon one another, showing how two people can see the same situation quite differently. The characters are almost all well-drawn, with only a couple of truly stock characters (the bitchy perfect high school girl who puts others down is by this point a caricature, but I understand its necessity).

I’m drawn, however, back to a comparison to Twilight, that cultural phenomenon that degrades the very women who love the genre. Here are a few key differences between the Twilight saga and Red: 1) Elodie has a brain, and uses it. She’s not a useless pouting wallflower; 2) Nolan knows just how far to push Sawyer’s obsession with Elodie without it becoming creepy; and 3) There is genuine respect between the love interests for the physical well-being of the other.

In other words, Sawyer doesn’t inflict pain — emotional or physical — on Elodie during their intimate scenes. While many of the relationship scenes in Twilight border on abusive (and frankly cross the line more often than not), Nolan has written a paranormal romance that works precisely because there’s genuine respect on both sides of the relationship. The book is ostensibly for a YA audience, but I think it would appeal to readers of all ages.

Kait Nolan, author of Red

It’s rare for me to meet a writer who makes me want to ask the old cocktail party question: “So when are you going to write something serious?” But Nolan’s work has such craftsmanship to it that it makes me want to go there. Red is put together so seamlessly it deserved a re-read. I know all the parts are there and that they’re moving, working the way they’re supposed to work. It was only on the re-read that I realized how strongly this work was put together. It’s not just raw talent, though Nolan has plenty of that to spare. Re-reading the work, I was able to see the discipline it took to make certain choices in the manuscript, to push just the right buttons to make the reader continue further and further. I read it the first time in two days, and then the re-read didn’t take long either.

This book is an incredible example of what the paranormal romance category can be. Just amazing, amazing work from an author approaching the height of her powers.

And as a bonus: Nolan knows how to put together an e-book. Red was formatted perfectly on my (first generation) Nook. No typos or editing errors. No conversion errors. That’s a rarity, even from major commercial publishers. Indie authors, take note: this is one of the ways you can mark yourself as a serious professional.

Go HERE to read an excerpt of Red, as well as find links to buy a copy for your e-reader. Seriously, why are you still here? Click that link. You’ll be happy you did.

Disclaimer: I was not compensated in any form or fashion for this review. I paid for my own copy of the book, and it was money well spent.

Larry Munson, the legendary radio announcer for the University of Georgia, passed away yesterday at the age of 89 after complications from pneumonia. Grizzard, of course, was famously a gifted syndicated columnist/pundit — think Dave Barry, only funny. Grizzard, who died in 1994, chronicled the often confusing life of the changing South. But one thing Lewis was never confused about: Georgia Bulldog football.

He bled red and black.

So did Larry Munson.

Grizzard once quipped that “listening to Larry Munson was better than being there.” He was right. Munson was an unapologetic homer. The Bulldogs were “We.” You understood, emphatically, that Munson wanted Georgia to win every bit as badly as the fans did.

He wasn’t great at down and distance. He might forget the score–or even to tell you when Georgia scored. He might not even get the players’ names right. But that was a trade-off Georgia fans were willing to make. What they got instead of details was passion. Listening to Munson talk Georgia football was like listening to a man who’s having the love affair of a lifetime. Everything was there: hope, heartbreak, passion, anger, disgust. It wasn’t always pretty, but by God it was fun to listen to.

In college, Grizzard worked with Munson’s predecessor on Bulldog radio, Ed Thilenius. Since Grizzard knew what it took to create a compelling college sports broadcast, I hope Munson counted his words as high praise.

I’ve no idea what Lewis would have said about Larry’s passing. I just know there’s a hole in college football that won’t ever be filled. There are a ton of his calls on youtube. Go listen to some of them, because you won’t hear their like again.

Rest in peace, Larry. Damn good Dawg.

If you have a kid (or kids), you know this already: Parenting is an act of courage. Now while Noah is little, it’s easy to love him. He’s sweet. He gives kisses and laughs and blows spit bubbles. In just a few years, he may be harder to love. He may not always do what Daddy wants. As he becomes his own man and thinks his own thoughts, he will choose to do things that I might never do. He will see the world through his own eyes. He’ll make his own choices.

That terrifies me. What if I don’t do a great job raising him? What if Misty and I mess things up?

The short answer, folks, is that it likely won’t matter. We will mess up plenty, but I’ll do my best to let Noah know he will always be loved. I know this post probably is random to most of you, but I want to address the parents out there: if your kid comes to you and says he (or she) is gay, or that he (or she) is in a same-sex relationship, you still have a duty as a parent.

That duty is NOT to judge your kid. Your duty is not to agree with their lifestyle, not to agree or disagree with the choices they make or don’t make. Your duty is to love your kid. Period. End of story.

I’ve just been slapped in the face with the story of a woman I know trying to manipulate her 30-something daughter into not bringing her same-sex partner to Thanksgiving dinner. It’s ridiculous. I’m tangentially involved in this dilemma, so I wrote the daughter a short note that included the following:

“My wish for you (all of you!) is that your mom could simply say, “You’re my child, and I love you. Your life is yours to live, and even if I disagree with it, I still love you.” IMO, that’s the appropriate parental response. But hey, what do I know? I’ve only been on the job for seven months.”

That, to me, is an adult response. Maybe it’s not your first response, but it needs to be the response your kids see, no matter what age they are. I’ve gotten past the point where I care very much if someone is straight, gay, or bi. What I care about is what kind of person you are, and who you choose to share your bed with rarely has anything to do with that.

I want Noah to grow up happy and healthy. I want him to be his own man, to stand on his own feet and fight his own battles. But I want him to always know that Daddy has his back, and that I’m here for him no matter what.

I wish all parents could say the same.

I love Twitter — it’s a great resource to interact and learn about other writers, publishers, and agents. Or, you know, anyone else you want to know more about. I’ve met several agented and published novelists, as well as some quality agents. I’ve also met a good number of self-published writers and shameless self-promoters.

All of that is fine. But there’s one segment of the literary populace on Twitter that bugs me to no end: the people whose only interactions with you is to send you a direct message that pimps their self-pubbed novels. That’s an automatic unfollow, folks.

I understand that self-pubbed authors are going to market their wares through Twitter, and I’m fine with that. Everybody wants their novel to sell or their blog to get more hits or to gain more followers. So market yourself. That’s fine. But I consider direct messages a great deal more invasive than posts in my feed. Especially if that is your first interaction with me, it will also be your last.

I use direct messages for few things: Sending novelist Victoria Dahl dirty jokes. Picking on TL Costa while her power’s out or her kids are being unruly. Talking with Stephanie Sinkhorn about her experience getting an agent. Talking up Kait Nolan because she lives a couple of hours away and is cool as hell. Or chatting with my wife when she’s left her phone at home (which happens more often than you’d think).

If I choose to follow you, feel free to market to me through your regular tweets. I signed up for that. But once you invade what I consider a private space, don’t be surprised when you lose a potential friend, fan, and follower.