Author: Tommy Hancock

GUEST REVIEW OF THE WEEK…DR. HERMES RETURNS!!

GUEST REVIEW OF THE WEEK!

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Dr. Hermes Retro-Scans http://dr-hermes.livejournal.com/790788.html                     

CHILDREN OF THE LENS (ah, kids today)

From the November and December 1947 issues of ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION, this was the final book in the original Lensman series (Smith later revised TRIPLANETARY to serve as a prologue and wrote FIRST LENSMAN to fill in the gap between TRIPLANETARY and GALACTIC PATROL). CHILDREN OF THE LENS certainly has a full cast, with both Kimball and Clarrissa Kinnison, their five offspring and familiar faces (if “faces” is the correct word) like Worsel, Tregonsee and Nadreck… not to mention Mentor of Arisia. Our heroes are united in action to combat the biggest threat to Civilization yet, all building up to a cosmic showdown two billion years in the making.

Yet for most of the time, I didn’t find CHILDREN OF THE LENS quite as satisfying as the earlier books in the series. Smith’s writing has gotten much smoother and less flamboyant than when he started, but some of the purple grandeur has been lost. Also, to be honest, too much of the conflict this time around is on a telepathic level. Powerful superhuman minds probing and clashing is dramatic enough, but the earlier books capped off the psychic struggles with epic scenes of planets crashing into each other and the output of suns concentrated into destructive beans.

The big ultimate showdown is impressive enough (and actually I don’t see how it could have ended any other way), but I thought the middle of the story could have used some more exploding planets and ultra-resonating frammistats. Kimball Kinnison’s undercover missions (posing as a smuggler or crook) were always highlights of the first three books and here they gets skipped over briefly. (Smith’s infrequent dry humor shows where Kim is posing as a snoopy author.)

There is a haunting moment when, with all the minds of untold millions of Lensmen combined, the five Children have joined into a group-consciousness called the UNIT to spearhead the attack. “Strong young arms laced the straining Five into a group as motionless and as sculpturesque as statuary, while between their bodies and around them came into being a gigantic Lens: a Lens whose splendor filled the entire room with radiance.” I love that image; if the Lensmen books are ever filmed properly, that scene would raise goose bumps.

I felt slightly dismayed at the way the Children so easily and presumptuously manipulate the minds of everyone around them. After cheering for Kim, Clarrissa and Worsel through their adventures in the three preceding books, it was a wee bit unsettling to watch them being toyed with like marionettes by the kids (and without their even knowing about it). I know a major part of Smith’s theme was developing and increasing our heroes’ abilities and that Mr and Mrs Kinnison wanted their Children to keep stepping up in power, inevitably leaving themselves in the dust… but somehow this made me unreasonably sad. It would be like seeing Sherlock Holmes train an apprentice who then secretly plants clues to make it easier for the Great Detective or if Korak had been slyly protecting Tarzan from danger without getting caught.

It’s been twenty years since the last installment. Kim and Clarrissa Kinnison (the Gray Lensman and the Red) have turned out a son (Christopher or Kit) and two pairs of non-identical twin girls. These all have names starting with a “K” sound, and (although each has slightly different abilities and personalities) the girls really all look and sound pretty much alike; enough so, that I wasn’t sure which one was teaming up with Worsel and which with Tregonsee. All five of the Children start off already gifted beyond their parents — they are after all the culmination of the millenia-long breeding program which produced parents Kim and Chris — and additionally they were raised by two Second Stage Lensmen and pals like Worsel and Tregonsee. In fact, these kids are so advanced they can materialize the amazing Lenses on their arms all by themselves. Not that they need one. But they each also head to Arisia to receive their final upgrades from Mentor himself (itself? theirselves?). By this time, the five Children seem like they could take over Olympus itself without much trouble and tackle Asgard a few minutes later.

It’s hard to keep coming up with challenges fit for these steadily evolving superhumans, but Smith always manages. For one thing, they go up against alien beings who can meet them head on; also, much of the action is carried out through technology, as weapons and defenses keep outdoing each other. Too, they have to deal with problems like their nasty counterparts, the Black Lensmen, who get their yellow power rings from the anti-matter universe of Qward… no, wait. Who get their substandard cheap imitation Lenses from somewhere to be identified.

I’m still not sure I’ve got the big picture right, as Smith has created a mythology as dense and complex as Tolkien’s. So I might be perplexed about something on page 221 of SECOND STAGE LENSMEN that is clarified in the introduction to TRIPLANETARY. (My Visualization of the Cosmic All is clouded and weak; in fact, I have trouble finding my car keys.) Be that as it may, it seems that the ultimate evil (from our viewpoint) in the universe are the Eddorians, who operate through a hierarchy of races descending below them in both power and wickedness. As we follow the books, our heroes keep overcoming their enemies only to later find that there was something behind them even worse. (Frustrating, eh?) So the villains escalate from the Boskonian pirates to the Overlords of Delgon to the Eich to the Ploorans (brrrr). Although we the readers know about the Eddorians, in the narrative itself only the Children and the Arisians are hip to their existence.

There are some tantalizing hints here and there that the five Children will soon start breeding with each other in a big incestuous commune. Actually, there are also some unsavory undertones in the scene where Kit initiates his mother in the mysteries of becoming a Second-Stage Lensman; aside from the way he keeps telling how gorgeous and sexy she is, the description of their intense training session sure suggests science-fiction MILFism to me. (“Kit came [telepathically, that is,]; and at the first terrific surge of his mind within hers the Red Lensman caught her breath, stiffened in every muscle and all but screamed in agony.”) After she has been raised to Second Stage Lenshood, her face is white and sweaty and her hair dishevelled. While she goes to freshen up, Kit eats a steak.

Anyway, back to the girls. None of the four sisters “had ever shown or felt the slightest interest in any one of numerous boys and men.” No normal human male, even a Lensman, could possibly come up to their standards. Except, of course, for their brother Kit, who is their equal and who can join with them in a thrilling group mind called the UNIT. Hmm, you don’t suppose…? (“They each had dreamed of a man who would be her own equal, physically and mentally, but it had not yet occurred to any of them that one such man already existed.”) And Kit has funny stirrings about his sisters, too (“They didn’t FEEL like other girls. After dancing with one of them, other girls felt like robots made out putty. Their flesh was different. It was firmer, finer, infinitely more responsive.”)

I’m just glad Philip Jose Farmer never got around to writing a Lensman book. Whew!

In the epilogue to CHILDREN OF THE LENS, Kit informs whatever race discovers his time-capsule message that his own Civilization has probably fallen by now and his reader’s new society is being threatened by some arch-threat of its own. But, Kit reassures them, help will be available. (“Prepare your mind for contact.”) And the cycle will start all over again. I can’t even imagine what Smith would have come up with for a challenge bigger and nastier than the Eddorians. Tackling Yog-Sothoth and the Great Old Ones? One of the five Children going bad and turning on the others? Blackie DuQuesne making a comeback? Excursions into the afterlife?

WRITER TEEL JAMES GLENN INTERVIEWED!!

TEEL JAMES GLENN, Writer

AP: Tell us a little about yourself and your pulp interests.

TJG: I was born in Brooklyn and was a sickly child who found refuge and strength in television (The Lone Ranger, Wild Wild West etc) and most especially in comic books and novels.

In fact I read anything I could get my hands on- I leaned to read from comic books then started on the Hardy Boys, the Three Investigators, Tom Swift, Tom Quest and finally the Doc Savage books (I loved heroes and series characters).

From Dent’s novels I found other pulp characters like The Shadow and the Green Lama and stumbled, by fortunate chance, onto pulp fandom. I was embraced by and embraced it doing illustrations for Tom Johnson’s amazing Echoes and articles for Paul Mcall’s Aces magazines.

But it was a decade or more before I began creating my own characters and moved to writing full time.

AP: What does pulp mean to you?

TJG: The great writer Algis Budrys once stated that ‘The essence of pulp writing is that it must offer a clear cut resolution to a sentimental problem.” White hats and black hats slugging it out. In the hero pulps the white hats always won; in the dark world of noir and hardboiled detective pulps it was not always a clear-cut thing and there were a lot of ‘grey hats’.

It is an era of covers painted in bold strokes and larger than life characters painted with equally bold strokes of the typewriter. I don’t think of it as an excuse for poor writing as so many literati would have everyone believe, but it was absolutely the place where dull writing is not allowed.

It’s the place I’m most comfortable both reading and writing…

AP: You’ve worked as an actor, swordsman, stuntman, and fight choreographer for films, stage, and television. How did you get your start?as an actor, swordsman, stuntman, and fight choreographer for films, stage, and television. How did you get your start?

TJG: I attended Parsons School of Design intent on an illustration career when a chance meeting with a director at a party the day before graduation led to an audition and the lead part in a film. I continued to work as a book illustrator sporadically over the course of the next years, it became the ‘background’ career to performing.

A fan of action movie serials of old, I made a number of super 8 films in high school and when I launched on a film career began taking stage combat classes with various instructors including Errol Flynn’s last stunt double for stage swordplay. I began teaching stage combat, stunt work and related physical skills from Florida to Toronto.

All this was concurrent with his film career and employment as fight choreographer and performer at over fifty Renaissance faires as well as fight director for over a hundred stage productions And a stuntman or actor in over eighty films and several hundred soap opera appearances.

I’ve also appeared on The View menacing Lisa Ling, The Morning Show teaching Regis Philbin how to be a Swashbuckler and a host of news programs.

My most famous ‘small screen’ appearance was as Vega (and fight choreographer) in the worldwide web series “Street Fighter: The Later Years.” It was the most watched web series in the world at one time.

By far the largest part of my performing career has been in low budget fantasy/horror genre films.

All this background informs my writing with a number of my stories drawing on my theatre film or period work for authenticity.

AP: Introduce us to your nemesis of crime, Dr. Shadows and The Adventures of the Granite man. How did the pulps inspire this book?

TJG: I searched for a bit to find the elements of the pulp greats that appealed to me when I decided to delve into creating a “pulp avatar’-so to speak and what bubbled to the surface was Anton Chadeaux PhD who, the world would come to know—as Dr. Shadows! He was a petro-chemical engineer who dabbled in stage magic during college where he was something of a heck raiser and a wastrel. He undergoes a life transforming disaster in the mountains of Northern Korea when Chinese warlords in Japanese employ shoot down the plane on which he and his parents are traveling.

All are killed save the young Chadeaux.

He is left for dead, hopelessly paralyzed. Fate intervenes when he is found by monks from an ancient, hidden monastery. The monks of Wei practice Sulsa Do, a 2,000-year-old art that perfects the body and frees the mind.

His body is turned into a grey color that is the reason the bad guys call him “the granite man.” That and the body he builds from his new studies make him a formidable enemy to evil. When he returns to the west he establishes the Shadows Foundation for Justice. He gathers around him a loyal band of crusaders and so is born the legend of Dr. Shadows, a grey Galahad, nemesis of evil and last hope of the hopeless.

I work very hard to place him firmly in the world of the 1930s but exploring- I hope- some of the side areas that Doc Savage, the Shadow, the Green Lama and others don’t spend as much time with-namely the growing menace of Imperial Japan and prejudice against the Korean culture. I also bring my martial arts background into giving the stories a flavor I don’t think I’ve found elsewhere in period work.

His stories have been published in a number of Pulp books for a couple of years and a collection is finally out from Epress “Hex of Shadows” though all the rest of the series will be out from Booksforabuck starting in 2011.

AP: Who are The Exceptionals?

TJG: The Exceptionals is a high action saga set in the near tomorrow of 2030. It follows the adventures of a group of scientifically augmented, bio-enhanced government agents as they confront and come to question their own humanity and become aware of a vast conspiracy that threatens the downfall of the United States.

In this violent future the rise of narco terrorists and extra territorial criminals has lead the U.N. to create a new class of lawmen, The Exceptionals, –bio enhanced bounty hunters who can go almost any where in pursuit of these extraordinary criminals.

It is essentially a ‘realistic’ look at superheroes written with truly breakneck speed and almost a ‘old western’ sensibility of good guys and bad guys.

There are three books currently out from Whiskeycreekpress.com with more intended when I can get my schedule clear…

AP: Your writing covers several genres. Do you have a favorite in which to work or do you like to play the field and work in as many different genres as possible?

TJG: I always approach stores from character first, so the genre almost doesn’t matter (beyond certain conventions each genre calls for). I do ‘play the field’ for the fun of it to keep if fresh though.

AP: Who are some of your creative influences?

TJG: ER Burroughs, Lester Dent and Robert E Howard are top of the list for authors who understood action; Richard Matheson for his mood and characterization and Nathanial Hawthorne and Poe for their language.

Best book? Probably Tarzan of the Apes.

AP: What does T J Glenn do when he’s not writing, acting, or sword fighting?

I don’t sleep much and my work is my recreation, actually. I am an avid old movie and tv fan- particularly 1950s TV. And reading my favorites like Hammett, Howard etc.

AP: Where can readers learn more about you and your work?

Theurbanswashbuckler.com,

Wordcave.wordpress.com

And on amazon, fictionwise, smashwords and gypyshadow.com

AP: Any upcoming projects you would like to mention?

TJG: I have a collection of stories about a husband and wife team –Moxie and Maxi Donovan- who investigate weird crimes in the 1930s—but with a light touch. Think of the Front Page meets White Zombie.

He’s a reporter and she a showgirl. Bela Lugosi even shows up in two of the stories as a good guy. The book is called Deadline Zombies and is out from BooksforaBuck .

And a new collection of “Shadows of New York” is set to come out early in 2011 to ‘relaunch’ the granite man to a wider audience.

AP: Are there any convention appearances or signings coming up where fans can meet you?

TJG: I’m not planning to be at any cons till Lunacon next year at the moment.

AP: And finally, what advice would you give to anyone wanting to be a writer or an actor?

TJG: Be born into a rich family. But seriously folks, neither field is an easy path so if you only WANT to do it you won’t last, but if you NEED to do it then push on through and enjoy the journey because you just may never end up where you expect.

AP: Thanks, TJ.

SEAN ELLIS, Writer

AP: Tell us a little about yourself and your pulp interests..

SE: I think my bio starts by mentioning my “love affair with adventure.” That pretty much sums it up. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be an explorer/treasure hunter/action hero. Growing up, my idea of a good time was borrowing my dad’s machete and hacking through the blackberry vines at the edge of our property, in search of an imaginary Mayan temple or King Solomon’s Mines. Reading was a big part of that; when I was six years old, I read a book from the Danny Dunn science detective series and was hooked. After that I devoured all the Hardy Boys and Tom Swift books I could find. I’m not sure when wanting to write got added to the mix, but I suppose it’s a natural progression from playacting those characters in my daydreams to developing my own storytelling ability.

Watching Raiders of the Lost Ark was sort of like a religious experience for me. My imagination ran wild with possibilities for the character and eventually that turned into fan-fiction. I wrote something like a thousand pages of Indy stories, long hand. I’m not sure what ever became of those notebooks. I should check my parents’ attic….

I eventually discovered Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt series. The thing that really fascinated me about Cussler was how he divided his time between writing and looking for old shipwrecks and lost gold mines. When I learned that, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Cussler mentioned in an interview how he had been influenced by pulp adventures–Doc Savage, Sax Rohmer’s Fu Manchu, and so forth–and that was probably the first time I ever became aware of pulp stories, though looking back I can see that I had been reading them all along.

AP: What does pulp mean to you?

SE: I’ve called my Dodge Dalton novel a pulp-style or pulp-themed story. As a rule, I try to reserve the term “pulp” for the original fiction of the pulp magazines from the Depression era, much the same way wine snobs would demand that you have to call it “sparkling wine” if it’s not from Champagne, France. I’m not a pulp snob by any means; quite the opposite, I think the term is so broadly used that I’m not really sure where the line is drawn. I’ve seen the word ‘pulp’ attached to lot of mainstream fiction–Cussler, James Rollins, even Stephen King–and most of those authors wear it like a badge of honor. (James Rollins recently put the Doc Savage stories on his top ten list of favorite books). I suppose a better answer would be that I think of pulp as the genre that doesn’t quite fit with the others–westerns, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, etc.–but freely makes use of them all.

AP: Your pulp novels range from a Secret Agent X adventure, The Sea Wraiths to the wonderfully titled The Adventures of Dodge Dalton in In The Shadow Of Falcon’s Wings. Tell us a bit about the books and their pulp history.

SE: In 2005, as I was gradually becoming aware of hero pulps, I had the idea of creating a keystone character that would be the subject of a series of short (60-80,000 word) novels. My plan was to borrow a page from the old pulp model, by teaming up with some fellow aspiring authors and cranking out novels in rapid succession, not unlike what Charles Ardai has done with his Gabriel Hunt series. That was the genesis of the Dodge Dalton character. The first novel, is a sort of passing of the torch story. Dodge is a writer, chronicling the stories of Captain Zane Falcon, a Doc Savage-esque character. Falcon has been off the scene for many years, but when a crisis comes along, Dodge sets out with one of Falcon’s old sidekicks to hunt down the missing hero, and winds up more or less taking his place. I wrote that first novel over the course of a few months, and made a good start on the sequel, but everything else about my grand scheme failed completely. Over the years that followed, I pitched it to a couple different publishers, but none were as enthusiastic about the story as Kent Holloway from Seven Realms LLC. A quick aside: the novel was originally called Falcon’s Flight. There wasn’t anything wrong with that title, but when, on October 15, 2009 a young boy named Falcon Heene famously DIDN’T fly away in a homemade balloon, I decided I’d better come up with a new title. Kent and I talked it over and decided to go for a Buckaroo Banzai sort of vibe. So far, everyone I’ve talked to loves the new title.

Jump back to 2006, with Dodge languishing in obscurity, I packed up my laptop and went to war. I knew I’d have a lot of time to write, but I didn’t have a good story to tell. When you decide to write professionally, creative decisions become a bit more calculated; you don’t keep writing sequels to a novel that no one wants to publish, and I wasn’t making any headway in the publishing world. That was when my friend Wayne Skiver told me about his involvement with a planned series of anthologies based on classic pulp characters that were in the public domain. I was looking for a change of pace, something that might give me some visibility and add some publishing credits to my resume, so I contacted the editor of the anthologies (All Pulp’s own Ron Fortier) and asked to be involved. Secret Agent X was the only character I really identified with, mostly because I thought it would give a chance to write a James Bond-style character. At the time I had never read any of the original “Brant House” stories. When I started researching the character, I discovered X was more of a crime fighting vigilante than a Bond-style secret agent, so I had to rethink my original premise a bit to make it fit the canon. The original series ended before the outbreak of World War II, so as I was working on the short stories, I kept thinking about how the character might have transitioned from crime fighter to international super-spy during the war years. The Sea Wraiths was my attempt to make that transition. In the story, I send him overseas, literally into the lion’s den, to uncover a Nazi plot to take over America.

As luck would have it, my experiment with public domain pulp characters didn’t really open any doors, but it did keep me writing. About the time I was wrapping up The Sea Wraiths, I found a publisher for The Shroud of Heaven, so my focus returned to contemporary fiction.

AP: Who is Nick Kismet?

SE: Nick Kismet is my Indiana Jones…my James Bond…my Dirk Pitt. He’s a former military intelligence officer who now works for an UN agency dedicated to stopping the trade of illegal antiquities. He’s not quite an archaeologist, but he knows a lot about ancient civilizations and folklore. He’s also trying to solve a mystery relating to his own origins, which serves as a broader story arc that connects all the books in the series.

AP: In Nick’s debut novel, The Shroud Of Heaven, we see him searching for God on the Iraqi battlefield. How much of Nick’s experiences did you draw from your time in Afghanistan as part of Operation Enduring Freedom?

SE: I actually wrote all of Shroud before my deployment, so there’s nothing in my own experience that shaped the story. What did translate however, particularly in the revision phase, was the sense of how things work in a military environment. There are some pretty successful action-adventure authors out there who clearly know absolutely nothing about rank structure, equipment, weapons, or the social dynamics of military organizations. Maybe that’s not a big deal for most readers, but I’ve always felt that getting the little details right goes a long way in helping the reader suspend disbelief when you have to lay on the really crazy stuff, be that a death-defying escape, fudging the laws of physics just a little (but only just a little), or delving into the “woo-woo” zone. There’s a lot of all of the above in my stories.

There was one experience however–not in Afghanistan, but during training stateside–that did make it into the book. Early on in the story, there’s a scene where Kismet is in a Humvee that’s chasing an assassin across Baghdad. At one point, he has to disembark and continue the chase on foot, but the way I had originally written it just felt really flat. About that time, I was riding as a passenger in a Humvee where the driver was perhaps showing off just a little, trying to catch a little air going over a rise, and managed to break a sway bar which had the effect of turning one of the rear wheels at a forty-five degree angle, spinning us around and smacking us into a tree (it’s all in my sworn statement). No one was hurt, and it wasn’t even all that dramatic, but it gave me an idea of how to ratchet up the intensity in what had originally been a very perfunctory transition scene.

AP: Nick Kismet is set to return in 2011 in a new novel titled Into The Black. Tell us a bit about this new adventure.

SE: Into the Black revolves around a search for the legendary Golden Fleece from the Greek myth of Jason and the Argonauts. Kismet teams up with the daughter of a Russian engineer who’s been kidnapped by an unscrupulous archaeologist. Kismet is initially interested only in rescuing the hostage, but as the story unfolds, he learns that the Fleece just might be real, and that it may be the key to a devastating new weapon. The title refers to the Black Sea, where quite a bit of the book takes place…and yes, it did come to me one day while listening to Neil Young.

Into the Black is actually the first novel I ever wrote for publication. I was in the process of revising it when Operation Iraqi Freedom kicked off, and when I heard news reports about antiquities being looted from the Iraqi museums, I thought: “Wow, that sounds like a job for Nick Kismet!” And because the story line was so topical, getting Shroud written and published became a priority. It had always been my plan to follow up in short order with Into the Black, but things in the publishing biz don’t always work out like you want them to. My publisher for Shroud closed to action-adventure submission, so it was back to square one for a while. Fortunately, Kent at Seven Realms was just as enthusiastic about taking on Nick Kismet as he was Dodge Dalton.

AP: You have worked on shorter pulp tales Secret Agent X, You Don’t Know What You’ve Got, Double Danger Tales, Peculiar Adventures, and a couple of free novellas through your website as well. What draws you to shorter tales as opposed to full-length novels?

SE: Given the choice, I’d almost always rather write a novel. With the pulp shorts you mentioned, I was limited by the editor to 15,000 words, and even then I ran long. My first version of Masterpiece of Vengeance was 18,000 words, and even as I was writing it, I was thinking: “I really wish I could write this character (Secret Agent X) into a novel,” which of course I did. But when you know you’ve got a limitation like that, it changes the creative process. You dial back the number of characters and the complexity of the plot, and everything sort of works out.

Once in a while though, I do get an idea for a story that just doesn’t have enough gravity for a novel. Usually it’s just one of those “what would happen” ideas. APEX, the story that made it into the You Don’t Know What You’ve Got anthology, was like that. I’d been reading about how Aleister Crowley had spent a night in the Great Pyramid of Giza, and it just blossomed into an idea for a short story.

AP: Do you have a favorite genre in which to work or do you like to play the field and work in as many different genres as possible?

SE: I don’t know that I feel especially drawn to a particular genre, but there’s a fair mix of heroic adventure and woo-woo factor in almost everything I write. It’s not essential that my heroes by squeaky clean, but they do need to be able to rise to whatever challenge I throw their way. For now at least, I’m committed to my series novels, and that’s going to keep me pretty busy.

AP: What, if any, existing characters would you like to try your hand at writing?

SE: Well, I don’t think it will come as a surprise that I’ve always dreamed of writing Indiana Jones stories. Unfortunately, the novel franchise has been fumbled so badly by both the publishers and LucasArts that I’m not sure I still feel that way. Ah, who am I kidding; could I say no if George called tomorrow?

Aside from Indy, I’d jump at a chance to get involved in any of the Clive Cussler series. A lot of long-standing Cussler fans aren’t as enthusiastic about the way the Dirk Pitt character has evolved, particularly in the more recent novels. Dirk’s married now, heading up a government agency and sharing the stage with his adult children; he’s not the carefree ladies’ man he was in so many of the early stories. On some level, it makes sense to grow the character up, but those original novels are still in circulation and reading them is almost like reading a completely different series. Well, I think there’s great potential to pick up in the middle, as it were. I think it would be really cool to develop some stories that are faster and leaner–like the earliest Dirk Pitt books–with less reliance on ancillary characters and technology, more focus on Pitt as the sole POV character, and a lot more two-fisted action.

I know some people who know some people…who knows, it could happen.

AP: Who are some of your creative influences?

SE: Did I mention Clive Cussler?

Creative influence is a tough thing to pin down. I suppose I’m subliminally influenced by everything I read. But the creative influence really isn’t as important as the inspiration I get from those authors. For example, I would count Louis L’Amour as a source of inspiration even though I’ve only read a handful of his stories; he’s a guy who lived the adventure, wrote dozens of stories that not even the pulp magazines wanted to publish, and eventually became a household name. By the same token, the commercial success of contemporary authors like Scott Sigler, Thomas Greanias and Jeremy Robinson, just to name a few, has been a real inspiration. Not only are they very talented authors, but they were innovative enough to figure out ways to build an audience in spite of the roadblocks thrown up by the conventional publishing industry.

AP: What does Sean Ellis do when he’s not writing?

SE: I am just a few short months from finishing my Bachelor’s degree in Natural Resources policy at Oregon State University…so I guess you could say, when I’m not writing, I’m writing. I’m very interested in environmental causes and wildlife conservation, and I think there’s a real need for scientific literacy in our society. In true action-hero fashion, I want to save the world, and I happen to think there are some pretty serious environmental crises going on right now.

AP: Where can readers learn more about you and your work?

SE: http://seanellisthrillers.webs.com

AP: Any upcoming projects you would like to mention?

SE: Into the Black will be out in the spring of 2011, but I think there will be an early ebook release this December…perfect for the Kindle or Nook that will be waiting under your tree. The Adventures of Dodge Dalton at the Outpost of Fate (DD#2) is finished and should be out in the summer. Further out, Dark Trinity: Ascendant, first novel of a planned trilogy featuring a kick-ass psychic treasure-hunting heroine should be out around January 2012…not too sure of all the details yet; the book is done but the ink on the contract is still wet.

I’ve got some revising to do on Nick Kismet #3–no title yet–and I’m presently working on Dodge Dalton #3, tentatively titled …On the Road to Oblivion.

I’ll also be contributing to and co-editing an anthology of stories based on the concept of classic short story “The Most Dangerous Game”; that should be out early next year.

AP: Are there any upcoming convention appearances or signings coming up where fans can meet you?

SE: Nothing planned at the moment.

AP: And finally, what advice would you give to anyone wanting to be a writer?

SE: Ah, how to answer this question without crushing hopes and dreams?

One thing is certain; no matter who you are or how long you’ve been writing, you can improve. There are a lot of people out there who routinely come up with great ideas for novels, but executing them well is something else altogether. Conversely, being able to write well is no guarantee of creative ability. One way to improve both is to read, and by that, I mean read critically. Don’t just digest a story in big gulps, but think about the way the author uses every single word to accomplish his goal. Then, start to think about how you might do it differently–both with respect to the creative elements and the technique.

Secondly, if and when you finish and decide it’s ready for publication, be very patient and be aware of all your alternatives. There are a lot of different ways to see your book into print, but there are also a lot of pitfalls as well. You can even do it yourself, and there’s a lot people who make all their money selling books that tell you exactly how to do that. That’s a choice of course, but it wouldn’t be mine.

AP: Thanks, Sean.  

ALL PULP NEWSSTAND-NIGHTHAWK EDITION!

ALL PULP NEWSSTAND
NIGHTHAWK EDITION
12/1/10

ONLINE HORROR MAGAZINE ANNOUNCES 2011 LINEUP

SNM HORROR MAGAZINE (http://www.snmhorrormag.com/) has announced its 2011 magazine line up.  This would be of interest to writers interested in submitting stories to SNM.  The planned issues are as follows-

January Jambalaya: open themed; only open to our previously published SNM authors.


February Freaks: mutants, deformity, mutilation masochists, midgets, gender benders.

March Marionettes: mannequins, marionettes, evil puppets, voodoo dolls, wax figures. 

April Addictions: drug addiction, gambling, sex-alcoholics, self mutilation and gluttony.

May Medievals: Medieval times, Dark Ages, Salem Witchtrials or Holocaust stories. 

June Jinxes: jinxes, hexes, curses, spell casting, dark superstitions or black magic.

July Jealousies: jealousy, envy, obsessive control, possessiveness — erotica welcome. 

August Antichrists: Satanic cults, demonic possession, dark religions, stories of Hell.

September Silhouettes: haunting ghosts, poltergeists, wayward souls or distraught spirits.

October Opiates: wordsmith visionary stories written in the tradition of Poe or Lovecraft.

November Nosferatus: Dracula, Nosferatu, “scary” vampires, or human Goth vampires.

December Doomsday: End of the World, 2012, Post Armageddon; all horror related.

For more information on submissions, go to snmhorrormag.com! 
Taken from the SNM Website-
Welcome to SNM Horror Magazine, a premiere online publication featuring the best new talent in horror today. We will showcase 8 new short stories each month and publish on the first day of each month, unless posted otherwise. The best part is it’s FREE! Whether it’s to browse around and read the featured authors or even submit a story yourself, we welcome and embrace you into our dark realm of true horror. This mortuary was built by my own grimy appendages from sordid ceremonial grounds and drenched in the blood of disdain and rejection. My ghoulish hands have woven together this underworld to feature some great works from horror authors who haven’t had their imaginative scrolls of horror presented in this inner sanctum from the crypt and into the daylight. We dare to publish what other mags don’t, but only in the best of taste! Now come and see why we are the new underground of true horror. You will soon be coming back for more.
PULP ARK ANNOUNCES COSTUME CONTESTS AND TALKS ABOUT TABLES!!
PULP ARK, the newest pulp convention/creator’s conference, taking place in Batesville, Arkansas May 13-15, 2011 announces that there will be awards and recognition given for costumes as well as various activities for cosplayers to participate in throughout the event!  According to Tommy Hancock, Pulp Ark Coordinator, “Pulp Ark is being done by fans, our guests are fans who happen to be writers and artists, our vendors are fans or they wouldn’t be selling what they do.   It’s only right that those fans who really get into what they love so much, the ones who love costumes, get to come play at Pulp Ark as well and can be awarded for it!”  Hancock even stated that if someone who had a long background in costuming for conventions wanted to do a panel, that would be welcome as well!  For more details, contact Hancock at proseproductions@earthlink.net or 870-834-4022.
Also Hancock announced that Guest Tables were still available.  If a writer, artist, or publisher would like to be a guest at Pulp Ark, contact Hancock and your table will be FREE OF CHARGE.  Vendors do not get free tables, but they are extremely affordable and vendor tables are still available as well!!  Contact Hancock at proseproductions@earthlink.net or 870-834-4022 for more details.  “We’ll fill tables as long as they’re open,” Hancock stated, “even if that’s the day before Pulp Ark, but hotel rooms are going fast in our reserved location, so we want to make sure everyone who wants to come gets the best rate we can provide!”

Fortier reviews FROGS OF DOOM!!!! No Kiddin’!!

ALL PULP REVIEWS
by Ron Fortier

DOC WILDE
& The Frogs of Doom
By Tim Byrd
G.P.Putnam’s Son
186 pages

(This is a review written in the past but to preserve the sentiment, ALL PULP will print it as it was originally printed)

Sometimes the twist and turns of fate can make you sit back and ponder those magical things we call coincidence. Early yesterday morning, via the internet, I learned that one of our finest fantasy, science fiction writers had died; Philip Jose Farmer. Amongst his many popular works, Farmer had invented a strange heroes mythology wherein he surmised not only were all the great literary heroes of the late nineteenth and twentieth century based on real people but that they were also related in one fashion or another. This was called his Wold Newton Mythology.

In this fanciful theory, Farmer postulated that there had actually been a 1930s globe trotting adventurer who was the basis for the pulp hero, Doc Savage. Farmer also suggested this man was related to the jungle lord we call Tarzan. Amongst his elaborate genealogy of heroes, Farmer several times replaced the name Savage with Wilde, again to indicate historical personages and their fictional disguises.

So why bring this all up now? Simply because on the day I learned of Farmer’s passing, this book arrived on my doorstep; DOC WILDE AND THE FROGS OF DOOM by Tim Byrd. In his action-packed story, Byrd tells us this Doc Savage figure not only existed, but that he went on to marry and have a son and grandchildren. The son is one Doctor Spartacus Wilde, a golden hued chip off the old block. Like his dad, now ninety-nine but still fit as an Olympian athlete, he is a famous scientist, inventor and world traveler. He is also a widower raising two fantastic kids, Brian and Wren, both of whom have inherited the family adventuring genes.

As the book opens, Doc and his children learn that Grandpa Wilde has disappeared at the same time they are attacked by a variety of bizarre, hybrid frogs. Surviving these bizarre assaults, Doc, Brian, Wren and Doc’s aides, take up the search from the Empire State Building, where they interview Grandma Pat Wilde to the halls of Harvard. Oh, and the two aides I mentioned are a red-headed Irishman named Declan mac Coul and a natty, debonair lawyer named Phineas Bartlett. (Of course any self-respecting pulp fan will recognize them immediately.)

The trail of the missing senior Doc leads our group to the South American jungles of Hidalgo, as yet another well known name from the Savage canon. The innocent fun of this book, which is a Young Reader’s offering, is that it does not attempt to shy away from its origins and is a worthy pastiche for all Doc Savage enthusiasts. Byrd is having a grand time offering us a satisfying what-if adventure that rings true from start to finish and left me wanting more. All the trappings and clichés of the hero pulps are here, but presented in such a fresh and carefree manner, the reader will be swept away by the outlandish exploits performed by this one-of-a-kind family. The Wildes are old fashion heroes in the best sense of the word and their adventure is sure to thrill pulp fans, both old and new. 

Fortier Reviews FROGS OF DOOM! No kiddin’!!!

DOC WILDE & The Frogs of Doom

By Tim Byrd
G.P.Putnam’s Son
186 pages

(This is a review written in the past but to preserve the sentiment, ALL PULP will print it as it was originally printed)

Sometimes the twist and turns of fate can make you sit back and ponder those magical things we call coincidence. Early yesterday morning, via the internet, I learned that one of our finest fantasy, science fiction writers had died; Philip Jose Farmer. Amongst his many popular works, Farmer had invented a strange heroes mythology wherein he surmised not only were all the great literary heroes of the late nineteenth and twentieth century based on real people but that they were also related in one fashion or another. This was called his Wold Newton Mythology.

In this fanciful theory, Farmer postulated that there had actually been a 1930s globe trotting adventurer who was the basis for the pulp hero, Doc Savage. Farmer also suggested this man was related to the jungle lord we call Tarzan. Amongst his elaborate genealogy of heroes, Farmer several times replaced the name Savage with Wilde, again to indicate historical personages and their fictional disguises.

So why bring this all up now? Simply because on the day I learned of Farmer’s passing, this book arrived on my doorstep; DOC WILDE AND THE FROGS OF DOOM by Tim Byrd. In his action-packed story, Byrd tells us this Doc Savage figure not only existed, but that he went on to marry and have a son and grandchildren. The son is one Doctor Spartacus Wilde, a golden hued chip off the old block. Like his dad, now ninety-nine but still fit as an Olympian athlete, he is a famous scientist, inventor and world traveler. He is also a widower raising two fantastic kids, Brian and Wren, both of whom have inherited the family adventuring genes.

As the book opens, Doc and his children learn that Grandpa Wilde has disappeared at the same time they are attacked by a variety of bizarre, hybrid frogs. Surviving these bizarre assaults, Doc, Brian, Wren and Doc’s aides, take up the search from the Empire State Building, where they interview Grandma Pat Wilde to the halls of Harvard. Oh, and the two aides I mentioned are a red-headed Irishman named Declan mac Coul and a natty, debonair lawyer named Phineas Bartlett. (Of course any self-respecting pulp fan will recognize them immediately.)

The trail of the missing senior Doc leads our group to the South American jungles of Hidalgo, as yet another well known name from the Savage canon. The innocent fun of this book, which is a Young Reader’s offering, is that it does not attempt to shy away from its origins and is a worthy pastiche for all Doc Savage enthusiasts. Byrd is having a grand time offering us a satisfying what-if adventure that rings true from start to finish and left me wanting more. All the trappings and clichés of the hero pulps are here, but presented in such a fresh and carefree manner, the reader will be swept away by the outlandish exploits performed by this one-of-a-kind family. The Wildes are old fashion heroes in the best sense of the word and their adventure is sure to thrill pulp fans, both old and new.

  

DECODER RING THEATRE FREE FICTION PREVIEW ON ALL PULP!

DECODER RING THEATRE, one of the premiere sources of not just modern audio drama, but PULP audio drama has provided ALL PULP with a FICTION PREVIEW!   DRT, known for its RED PANDA audio dramas, as well as BLACK JACK JUSTICE, and other various gems, also has three Red Panda novels available!!!  Gregg Taylor, author and creator of THE RED PANDA, has graciously allowed ALL PULP to post the first chapter of the first novel TALES OF THE RED PANDA: THE CRIME CABAL! 
Even though this is the first chapter of a novel, it reads like a self contained tale and is a great introduction to The Red Panda and Flying Squirrel!!  Stay tuned to ALL PULP in coming days for a review of all THE RED PANDA novels as well as interviews with DRT cast and creators and other DRT goodies.   For more info on the fiction and all DRT does, go to http://www.decoderringtheatre.com/! And now…
Tales of the Red Panda: The Crime Cabal
  
One
The last sliver of the moon hung above the great, teeming city and its million souls like the flickering remnants of a guttering candle. Its few, feeble rays reached into the thousand dark places the gaslight could never penetrate – the alleyways, the long-quiet industrial ruins, the waterfront. Silver fingertips bruised themselves against the creeping darkness of the badlands and found themselves buried in its lifeless chill. The moon retired and was seen no more. Those of the city that could do so made their way to warmth and safety behind locked doors. Those that could not whispered a prayer to the morning, and let the waves of darkness wash over them. Night came to the city.

Mitch Reynard stared out into the blackness and blinked hard. Four hours of this. It was too much. He shook his head a little to persuade his eyes to stay focused and stamped his feet to fight the chill of the damp spring air. He felt inside his coat for a cigarette. As he fumbled with the lining of his torn pocket, his fingers brushed against the cold steel of the .38 revolver he wore on his shoulder. For a moment he remembered that he had a job to do. Like a truant schoolboy, his eyes turned back to the weary blackness that surrounded him.

He pressed the cigarette between thin, dry lips and felt for his matches. Nothing. He was sure that he’d had half a book. His eyes turned again to the void. He took six steps forward and looked over the edge of the roof he stood upon. He could barely see the walls of the warehouse below him, but he could hear the soft scuff of the men at the front door as they struggled to keep their watch. He could see the orange glow of their cigarettes as they paced. Reynard almost called to them, but six stories below they wouldn’t be of much use to him, and they could no more leave their posts than he could his. He turned back in towards the rooftop. To his left, he thought he could almost make out Jake on the corner of the roof with his Thompson. Or maybe he just thought he could. It didn’t matter – he’d be there all right, and he’d have a light.

Reynard turned out to face the night. Nothing. He decided that this was pointless. Night after night, watching for something that didn’t come. Tonight he wouldn’t have even been able to see it if he’d known what he was looking for.

“No sense being a hero,” he thought, and smiled at the irony.

He turned and made his way carefully across the rooftop to the corner where he knew Jake stood waiting. Waiting and watching. He’d gone fifteen feet before he was sure he could just make out the shape of Jake’s light colored raincoat. Another twenty feet and Reynard could see him, outlined in black and white like a picture show. He began to wonder at what distance it would be safe to call out to the waiting gunman. Didn’t want to surprise him. Jake didn’t much like surprises. Reynard heard a sudden noise behind him. His blood froze in his veins, and for just a moment, he had no idea what to do. He heard another footfall gently brush against the stones that covered the roof, closer this time. Reynard’s instincts took over. His right arm reached across his body as he turned and then straightened, .38 in hand. He heard a familiar voice hiss,

“Reynard! Reynard, what in blazes do you think you’re playing at?”

Reynard sighed. It was Malcolm, the boss’ right-hand. He could just see him striding forward through the darkness. Malcolm was afraid of nothing.

“Reynard! You’re not at your post!” hissed Malcolm.

“Geez, Mister Malcolm, I was just gonna get a match off Jake.”

Malcolm was close enough to be seen clearly now. Reynard could see the bigger man’s immaculately pressed grey suit and the scowl of contempt he always seemed to wear. He could smell Malcolm’s expensive cigar and more expensive hair tonic. Yes, sir. Malcolm was doing all right, that was for sure. He’d been old man Sclareli’s toughest soldier before he was put away, and his nephew’s loyal lieutenant since that dark day. Young Vic Sclareli was the boss, but Malcolm knew where all the bodies were buried, and how to dispose of another one if the need arose.

“Mister Sclareli doesn’t pay you to make social calls, Reynard.” There was menace in the gravel of that voice.

“Honest, Mister Malcolm.” Reynard was sweating now, in spite of the cold. “Lookit,” he said, pointing toward the unlit cigarette still stuck to his dry lips.

Malcolm held his eyes for a moment as best he could in the blackness. Finally, Reynard was sure he saw him smile. Reynard swallowed hard to persuade his heart to go back down his throat. A light sparked as Malcolm struck a match and lit Reynard’s cigarette. The smoke burned Reynard’s lungs and watered his eyes, but he smiled in relief.

“Thanks. Thanks, Mister Malcolm.”

“Keep the book, Mitch,” Malcolm said, pressing it into Reynard’s hand. “We can’t afford any slip-ups.”

“Geez, Mister Malcolm, I don’t mean anything by it, but how much longer are we supposed to keep this up? It’s been two weeks now, holed up like rats in a cage.”

Malcolm’s eyebrow arched. “A very tastefully appointed cage, Reynard.”

“Inside, sure it is,” chirped Reynard, feeling bolder now, “but from out here it’s just a big old warehouse. We don’t even know what we’re watching for.”

“Let’s hope you know it when you see it, Mitch,” said Malcolm, turning away. “For your sake.”

Malcolm stalked back towards the door that led in from the roof to the Sclareli mob’s headquarters – a hideout that had become a fortress. The half-open door cast a red glow against the blackness, thirty, maybe forty feet away. Reynard slipped the book of matches into his pocket. He’d need most of these before dawn. He didn’t understand this. He didn’t understand why they were hiding. They were hunters, not prey. They should be fighting back.

He started to return to his post. He turned and glanced back to Jake on the corner. Good old Jake – never asked questions, never left his post. Except…

Jake was gone.

Reynard froze and looked around. It was still too pitch black to see far, but the black and white outline of the man with the Thompson was nowhere to be found. He took two quick steps in that direction then stopped hard, like a dog yanked by a leash. If Malcolm was watching…

“Mister Malcolm!” hissed Reynard, as loud as he dared. “Mister Malcolm, it’s Jake.” The red glow of the half-open door still hung in the air, but there wasn’t a sound.

“Mister Malcolm!”

Nothing. Like most men that pursued his line of work, Mitch Reynard was a coward. Able enough in a group, or when told what to do, but one way or another the equation was always balanced by fear. After another moment, he realized what Sclareli would do to him if he let an unwelcome visitor slip past him. That tore it. He was more afraid of the boss than Malcolm.

Reynard pulled his .38 again and raced across the rooftop, stumbling in the darkness. As he picked himself up, he turned. The glow of the open door seemed very far away now. It actually seemed to be getting darker. Cautiously, he felt his way forward until he found the low wall that surrounded the edge of the roof. He groped further into the darkness, his tongue dry and heavy in his mouth as he called in a hoarse whisper,

“Jake! Jake? Where are you?”

Reynard’s right hand found the point where the north and east walls met. He turned in towards the roof, feeling with his outstretched hand as he instinctively lowered himself down to the surface of the roof. His eyes could just make out something…

Jake’s battered pork-pie hat, lying on the ground beside a still-smoldering cigar. But no Jake. Reynard scrambled to his feet and heard the clatter of something metallic. He bent forward again and came up with Jake’s Thompson. Reynard’s heart sank.

At that moment, a faint sound carried through the blackness. The beginnings of triumphant laughter, like a far-off song in a haunting minor key, taunting him. Reynard felt the chill of doom grip his heart. He had heard that sound before. At that moment, there was a clatter from across the roof, and the red glow abruptly disappeared. The door was shut. That laughter was inside the Sclareli headquarters. Reynard raced towards the door, shouting,

“He’s inside! He’s inside! Everybody–” Reynard was cut off as he tripped over something lying in the darkness and fell, hard. He turned in a rage. It was Malcolm, dead or out cold, Reynard couldn’t tell. No one was responding to his cries. There was no movement or sound on the rooftop. Reynard knew he was alone. The others had been taken, one by one. He’d only been spared because he wasn’t at his post.

He gripped the Thompson hard and raced towards the door. He found it by the sounds of a struggle from within, and then gunshots, a dozen or more. That gave the alarm. Reynard could hear his confederates on the ground converging on the front door. Reynard waited. Perhaps it was all over.

But then he heard the laugh again. Louder now, and with a crueler, mocking tone. Reynard stood with his hand on the doorknob, his whole body shaking. Few had heard that sound so close for so long. It was more than just laughter; it was a battle cry. There was mirth in the laugh, a kind of reckless joy.

“Oh, God,” Reynard whispered to himself, forgetting that he had long ago forsaken the right to any aid from that corner. He gripped the doorknob harder, unable to force his body forward. Unable to find the strength of will. Alone on that roof, the sounds of titanic struggle beyond the door. And always that laughter. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but to Mitch Reynard, it was an eternity.

From within, there was a sound like an explosion. He could feel the rush of air shaking the old wooden door. He waited a moment. No laughter. Maybe… just maybe.

Reynard turned the knob and raced through the door. He fell forward onto the high catwalk that ran around the top level of the warehouse Sclareli had converted for his headquarters. Reynard had known the place for a year. Neither he nor any other member of the gang had left it for the past two weeks. He would never have recognized it now. The great open chamber that was Vic Sclareli’s pride and joy was in ruins. The only light was from a fire burning near the main doors, evidently the explosive blast Reynard had heard had backfired. The lights flickered and sparked, but from the damage done to a power relay near the door, Reynard could tell there would be no help there. There was scattered gunfire from the lower levels as the remaining members of the Sclareli mob tried to organize their counterstrike. And everywhere there were bodies. They hadn’t been shot; Reynard couldn’t see any blood at all. He was taking them apart with his bare hands.

Suddenly, Reynard looked up, across the open expanse to the other side of the catwalk. There he was. Just a man. A man like any other. Reynard struggled to collect himself. If he could get a shot from here, he might have a–

Reynard’s thoughts came to a crashing halt as the frozen form sixty feet away sprang into motion. Reynard could see six of his confederates rush the man, and the casual ease with which he brushed them aside. The heads, arms, legs… all broken and bent as they were never meant to be. Six men. In a moment. In spite of himself, Reynard gasped.

The dark shape froze, like a wolf with the scent of blood in its nose, and turned in his direction. No. It was impossible. The man couldn’t have heard that sound. Not over the screams, the growing flames, the gunfire. And then the laughter began again.

The man raced towards the edge of the catwalk and threw himself over into oblivion. Red gauntlets thrust forward, fingertips extended to their furthest reach. Something seemed to propel him forward, pushing him away from the solid walls with such force that he barely fell an inch as he jumped. Impossible. It couldn’t be… no man could make that leap.

Half the distance between the site of the last battle and the catwalk where Reynard now stood there was a cross-beam, almost a full six stories in the air. The man reached it as if it had been easy. He gripped the beam with crimson gloved hands and propelled himself around it, seemingly oblivious to the blaze of gunfire from below. He spun himself around the beam with terrible speed and hurled himself into the air, feet first, towards the frozen form of Mitch Reynard.

It was easily the most incredible thing that Reynard had ever seen. The man stretched his arms behind his head, his hands reaching as if they worked invisible controls. Some force of great power seemed now to be pulling him by the feet, pulling him an impossible distance through the air. He actually overshot his mark, hitting the wall above the catwalk feet first and, with another sudden movement of his hands, staying there. He turned and looked right into Reynard’s soul with eyes that were blank, white and seemed to glow with an unearthly fury. And then he smiled.

Mitch felt weak in the knees as the man walked toward him, striding along the wall as smoothly as if he were walking flat upon the ground. Several stray bullets from floor level got his attention enough that he dropped to the catwalk. Reynard felt the cold steel of the Thompson in his clammy hands, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry out to the world the terror that gripped him by the heart.

At last, there he stood, not three feet away, towering above Reynard. The long grey coat, the immaculate suit beneath and the grey fedora impossibly still perched on his head. The bright red gauntlets and domino mask. And those terrible eyes. It was him. The man that fifty gunmen had watched for and guarded against, and all in vain.

It was the Red Panda.

The right gauntlet thrust forward at unbelievable speed, gripping Reynard by the throat. The left hand lashed out in a crimson blur and sent the Thompson clattering to the floor. Reynard stared in disbelief at the cold, white eyes hovering behind the colorful mask. This… this thing couldn’t be human, could it? No one could do what he did. No living man could have eyes like that. He could feel his entire body shaking, but was powerless to make it stop. Beneath the mask, Reynard could see the smile playing about his tormentor’s face.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you, Mitch Reynard?” the masked man said quietly, in a voice like a far-off roll of thunder. Reynard started. It knew his name. Mitch Reynard: career criminal, multiple murderer, proud parasite upon the living city, soldier in the Sclareli mob. Despite himself, Mitch Reynard began to quietly sob. The creature of the night that suspended him above the floor in a vice-like grip made no effort to conceal his amusement.

“You fear the Red Panda, do you not?” came the voice again.

Mitch could only sputter and nod.

“As well you might. For you have much to answer for, Mitch Reynard.”

The weeping gangster became quieter, calmer, as the voice washed over him, smooth and even-toned. Reynard could feel something… a coldness…

“All who cause the innocent to suffer in the name of greed will be made to answer, Reynard.” The voice seemed so far away now.

…No, not cold… a… numbness… creeping tendrils of another mind in his…

“The Red Panda is coming to make you pay, Mitch Reynard.”

There were cries from below. The remnants of the Sclareli mob were getting organized for a last offensive – a final push up the stairs to finish off the masked intruder in their midst who had suddenly vanished.

“But I am not the Red Panda.”

Mitch could not bring himself to question this. Of course this was not the Red Panda.

“I am your trusted associate. Don’t you recognize me?”

Mitch smiled in warm relief. It was good to see a friendly face.

“But he is here. Dozens of him. Coming this way.”

The gangster’s brows furrowed in confusion for just a moment.

“He’s not just one man. He’s a small army. Can’t you hear them coming?”

Mitch could hear them. Hear them creeping up towards the catwalk. Of course – it all made sense now. No one man could have fought such a war on crime and the gangs of men who controlled it. No one man. An army. And they were here!

“They will take you, if you let them, Mitch Reynard. And they will make you pay. Pay for every wrong thing you have ever done, even the ones you think no one knows about. If you let them.” The voice felt closer now. Like a warm whisper in Reynard’s ear that fanned the almost extinguished fires of his courage. Reynard felt strong. Stronger than he had in years. The great gloved hand set him back upon his feet and patted him on the shoulder.

“You won’t let them, will you, Mitch?”

Reynard shook his head slowly, as if it took all of his concentration. He moved as one in a daze to his right and picked up the Thompson. At last he had the strength to use it. At last. He crept to the edge of the catwalk. There… just past the shadows… there was the Red Panda. Two of them. And there were more, coming from the left. And another, on the ground with a rifle. One of them suddenly looked up.

“Mitch!” called the masked man.

As Mitch Reynard opened fire, the roar of the submachine gun almost drowned out the ringing peals of laughter from somewhere far above.

Minutes later, as the sounds of furious battle continued, a small, lithe shape moved quietly through Vic Sclareli’s inner sanctum. The Red Panda watched from the shadows as it padded, almost silently, towards an oversized portrait of Vic’s uncle Tony, the founder of the Sclareli criminal empire who currently resided in a maximum security penitentiary for his trouble. Grey-gloved hands lifted the portrait down to reveal a wall safe behind. The hands set the painting on the floor, against the wall. For a moment, the garish colors served to highlight the silhouette of the cat burglar. It was a pleasant sort of a shape – female, athletic and yet softly curved. If the masked man took note of any of that, he gave no outward sign. Her gloved hands began to work the safe. The roar of gunfire in the outer chambers continued, muted though it was by the cork-lined walls of Sclareli’s office.

The Red Panda stepped forward from the shadows, gliding silently towards the intruder. With both stealth and speed he moved towards the girl. Again, the smile played upon his face. She could have no idea he was here.

“How am I supposed to crack this safe with you making that racket?” came a voice that was equal parts sass and laughter. “Or is that you being quiet?”

The Red Panda smiled ruefully. His partner either had remarkable hearing or that was a very lucky guess. He decided to presume the former.

“How are we doing?” he asked coldly.

“Not bad. Most of what we need is in a pile on the desk,” said the Flying Squirrel with a glance back and a smile. “I thought you were keeping them busy.”

“Don’t they sound busy?” came the reply as he pulled a folding satchel from the depths of his coat.

“Who’s the shooter?” the masked young woman at the safe asked casually.

“Mitch Reynard,” replied the Red Panda, as he quickly scanned the files his partner had selected before placing them into the satchel.

“Mitch Reynard? You big softie.” The Flying Squirrel’s voice was amused, but not disappointed. “He’s the worst shot in gangland. He’d be lucky to hit the broad side of a barn at ten paces.”

“It’s still safer in here,” he said, as he completed his task.

“And here I thought you just missed me,” she sighed as she turned the latch and opened the safe. “Are we interested in any cash or negotiables today?”

“I think we’re covered. Grab the ledger and burn the rest.”

“You rich boys don’t know the value of a dollar, do you?” There was a note of genuine disdain in her voice. He tried to think where he’d gone wrong. She turned her head in his direction, her steel grey cowl that blended perfectly into her catsuit turned to the side, waiting. He tried not to smile at the false ears on her cowl as they waggled at him slightly.

“All right, grab the ledger, burn the bonds and we’ll drop the cash off at St. Michael’s.” He was fairly sure she was after the Robin Hood play.

“That’s my Boss. He gets there in the end. Your ledger, sahib.” She handed him a thick black tome that, together with the other documents in the bag, spelled doom for Sclareli’s rackets.

“Good work, Squirrel. This should be the end of the Sclareli crime family once and for all.”

“Nothin’ personal, Boss, but we’ve said that before. Of course, if ‘dead shot’ Reynard has his way…” As if on cue, the roar of the machine gun stopped, leaving only an echo in its wake. They exchanged a look. Without a word, she grabbed the last stack of bills and thrust it into her own satchel as he produced a small, round device from the folds of his coat. He depressed a button and the ball began to whir.

“Down!” ordered the Red Panda calmly, and he threw the incendiary into the safe. The remainder of Sclareli’s nest egg went up in flames.

As the wail of police sirens descended on the place, two almost-invisible shapes leaped from the rooftop and were swallowed up into the night. If the arriving policemen heard the far-off peals of laughter as they stormed the broken fortress, they gave no outward sign.

redpandaa1-5941907

DEBUT OF THE ALL PULP NEWSSTAND-BULLDOG EDITION!!

ALL PULP NEWSSTAND

BULLDOG EDITION
12/1/10
FREE PULP FICTION
From Bill Raetz-
For the month of December, 2010, I’m offering my first pulp fiction novella, Strip Poker, as a free download! It’s also available as a paperback for only $5.95.
Gracing the cover of this illustrated, incredibly pulpy adventure is none other than the lovely Syd Divine, the Golden Girl of the West.
If you enjoy the novella, posting a comment/short review somewhere online would be much appreciated.  The free download is available by clicking:
Get your copy today—and be sure to tell a friend!
For more about Syd Divine, visit: http://goldengirlofthewest.blogspot.com/.
FREE PULP CHRISTMAS TALE!!
From Josh Reynolds-

Advent Day Giveaway

So…how many of you were paying attention when I mentioned a little something called “Krampsnacht”? Because if you were, you’d know that starting today and going until Midnight on Christmas Day, I’ll be offering a COMPLETELY FREE 5,000 WORD SHORT STORY to anyone who contacts me either via e-mail at argus33 at hotmail dot com, Facebook, Livejournal or Blogger between now and then.

Now, what’s this story business about, you ask? Well, it’s a bit of a gamble, is what it is. It’s both a holiday treat and an advertisement of sorts for a series of stories I’ll be writing regularly, starting next year, for Fantasy & Fear Magazine. This story is a first taste, if you will, of the characters who will be starring in said series-Charles St. Cyprian, the Royal Occultist to the British Crown and his assistant/apprentice, the sharp-tongued Ebe Gallowglass.
That said, the first ‘official’ appearance of these characters will be in January of 2011, in a story titled “Sign of the Salamander”, which concerns a murdered civil servant, a missing mystical artifact and a riverboat going down the Nile. But until that time, you should feel free to enjoy “Krampusnacht”, which sees our daring duo attempt to stand in the way of the kill-frenzy of the Krampus!
 
NEW FICTION FROM TEEL GLENN!
From TJ Glenn’s Facebook page-
Teel James Glenn I’m delighted to announce that my short story “The Jester’s Touch” is live at the Fantasy World Geographic Magazine site. Stop by, read and leave a comment:
Teel

http://skaggsworld.com/fwg/2010/11/16/the-jesters-touch/

PRO SE ANNOUNCES NEW ANTHOLOGY LINE FOR 2011!
Pro Se Productions, publisher of the monthly PRO SE PRESENTS magazine line (including the rotating PECULIAR ADVENTURES, FANTASY AND FEAR, and MASKED GUN MYSTERY titles) announces that it will begin publishing Anthologies in 2011.  Unlike the magazines, these will be in book form and will contain four 15,000 word stories per book, each book with a different theme.

Ad for PECULIAR ADVENTURES

“We’re very fortunate,” states Tommy Hancock, Editor in Chief of Pro Se Press, “to have worked with so many talented writers and artists in the last year.  The decision to continue our magazine line and then add anthologies essentially came out of that talent pool.  We have writers eager to write concepts, both their own and some that are Pro Se house concepts and artists who can’t wait to bring images from those tales to life.  We have four great anthologies planned and are ready to welcome writers and artists, both those we’ve worked with and anyone new to Pro Se, to submit work for these collections.”
The first anthology, THE NINTH CIRCLE-VOLUME ONE, is scheduled for March, 2011.  This collection focuses on a concept created by Hancock that centers around a crime ridden precinct and borough in a city that shuffles its misbegotten and forgotten to THE NINTH CIRCLE.  This anthology will include tales from Hancock as well as noted pulp authors Barry Reese, Joshua Reynolds, and Derrick Ferguson!
The other collections still have openings for stories.  The anthologies scheduled to follow this debut include-
DEAD MAN WALKEN- Yet another concept from Hancock, this western adventure has enough intrigue and mystery to choke a horse!  A town is savagely attacked by a ruthless band of outlaws and most of the citizens killed, including the promising sheriff elect, Fitch Walken.  A month after the massacre and all the bodies are buried, Fitch Walken stumbles into town, the last three months of his life gone from his memory! The mystery deepens when Walken’s grave is exhumed…and he’s IN THE COFFIN!  What follows is the classic struggle of a man to find out who he is, what happened to him, and just which side of good and evil he will stand on! 
THE BLACK FEDORA-A BOOK OF VILLAINS- This is just what it says it is, an anthology dedicated to stories about the bad guys we love to hate.   These stories will focus on original villains and of course the heroes they face, these tales similar in style to the FU MANCHU stories of the past.  But this isn’t only for yellow perils!!  Any type of villain that populates pulp is welcome to try on THE BLACK FEDORA!
HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY-Ever wanted a chance to write a masked man enforcing justice in ancient Egypt?  Or a larger than life genius and his team of heroes righting wrongs in renaissance Italy?  Or mad scientists terrorizing the Arizona desert towns of the Old West?  Then here’s your chance!  HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY will include stories of traditional pulp concepts and tropes plopped into our very own past, pre 1900!  Take your favorite pulp stereotype and wrap it up in ancient or not so ancient places and people and join us in HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY!

PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY #2
ON SALE NOW!

Any writers interested in submitting a proposal for DEAD MAN WALKEN, THE BLACK FEDORA, and/or HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY need to write up a maximum of a two page proposal and email it to Hancock at proseproductions@earthlink.net.  If the concept is accepted, the writer will be given a deadline to complete the story.  If the deadline is not met, other writers who have submitted proposals and put on a list for future volumes will be moved into the now open space.  All accepted writers will receive a percentage of earnings from the book they are a part of.  Artists interested in work, which will be paid by the page, also need to send samples and inquiries to Hancock at the above address.
When asked about the move Pro Se is making into anthologies, Barry Reese, a contributing writer to THE NINTH CIRCLE and Book Editor for PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY stated, “It seems like the perfect transition for Pro Se — they’ve already shown that they can bring back the thrill of pulp monthlies and now they can take that sense of adventure and design into the field of anthologies. It’s a no-brainer and I’m thrilled to see what Pro Se can do!”
 
For any questions, please contact Tommy Hancock at proseproductions@earthlink.net

SIX GUN WESTERN GOES BI MONTHLY! NEW LOOK, TOO!

Taken from the AGE OF ADVENTURE Facebook page

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Six Gun Western has garnered many fans since its release. We’ve recieved multiple emails requesting “More please”. So to that we say: “You got it!” Starting with the next issue in January, Six Gun will go Bi-Monthly! Thats 6 issues per year instead of the current 4. To this end we have gathered a committed posse of contributers (writers, artists, and graphic design) Each issue will have even MORE NEW Western fiction, artcles, history, and artwork. Six Gun will be launching its very own Promotional page here on FB as well!

For now heres a look at our new logo… More to come! We’ll be bringing you The BEST Wild West action any fan could want!

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The first of our bi-monthly issues features part 1 of a two part, novel length Josiah Silence story by fan favorite Teel James Glenn. You can learn more about Teel at the Six Gun Western Page!http://www.facebook.com/pages/Six-Gun-Western-Magazine/175227815836196?ref=ts&v=wall

PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY #2 NOW ON SALE!!

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Need your Mystery, Crime, and Masked Hero fix all in one spot?? It’s right here in PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY #2! Thrill to high octane Pulp Action on every page! With a stunning Norm Breyfogle cover spotlighting Barry Reese’s THE ROOK, MASKED GUN MYSTERY promises to deliver shots, shouts, and clues aplenty, with cops, flatfoots, and masked men around every corner! Look no further for your pulp fix than PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY #2! Take a shot at it today! Print copies and E-books available!!
https://stores.lulu.com/proseproductions
The lineup for this issue includes-

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SHORTAGES, art by C. William Russette

Pro Se Previews: The Rook, volume 6 – The Scorched God • Barry Reese

The Compassion Play, An Aloha McCoy Story • Ken Janssens
Clean Up in Aisle Six • Aaron Smith

Shortages • Lee Houston, Jr.

The Scarlet Courtesan of Sovereign City • Derrick Ferguson

Staying Dead, a Tale of Virgil • C. William Russette

The Gray Ghost and the Lighthouse Murders • Bill Craig

IMPRINTS • Joshua Allen

Crime of the Arts Part 2 • Erwin K. Roberts

On The Edge of A Hero, A Tale of The Rapier • Don Thomas

What Is The Fate of Gary Wooten? – V • Fuller Bumpers and John Palmer IV

And the artists are-

Cover-Norm Breyfogle

Interiors-Anthony Castrillo, Dalton Carpenter, Fuller Bumpers,
Craig Gassen, Peter Cooper, and John Palmer IV!
Book Design, Layout, and Additional Graphics by Ali

MGM Editor-Barry Reese

PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY #2
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ON THE EDGE OF A HERO
Art by Craig Gassen