Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Crypticon 2013

The David Hudnut booth at Crypticon 2013
Crypticon Seattle 2013 has come and gone. I had a booth at the show in the vendor's room, and had a great time meeting people who had come out to get their horror on.

There was all manner of craziness throughout the weekend. Tons of great costumes, art, music, movies, a haunted house on site, hearses in the parking lot, the works. I was ensconced at my booth the entire time, so I didn't have a chance to sample the show as much as I'd like.

I did get to hop over and snap a few pics of Cassandra Peterson, a.k.a. Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. The fans were happy to see her and say hello.

Cassandra Peterson, a.k.a. Elvira, Mistress of the Dark
Since I was sitting at my booth all weekend, I had plenty of time to make some art. I did some character design sketches that I felt were appropriate for the horror audience: a Zombie Hooker, an Evil Scarecrow, and an Evil Clown. You can see all three finished illustrations at the bottom of this article. Once again, I used mechanical pencil, Copic Multiliner SP for the black lines, and Tombow Dual Brush pens for color. 

Evil Scarecrow
There were tons of amazing cosplayers with great costumes walking the show. I wish I'd taken more photos, but I did manage to get the amazing dog demon guy who showed up Sunday. 

On the drive home, I was fortunate enough to see the most amazing rainbow I've ever seen in my life, and snap pictures of it. It was large, vibrant, and did a great job of posing for the camera. You can imagine the pot of gold that was waiting for me when I got to the end of it. As you can see in the photo, it was just over the hill. Sure, I had to split the gold with the other people driving through it, but there was so much gold under that rainbow, it was more than enough to go around. Needless to say, I'll be retiring early because of my newfound rainbow gold.

Thanks again to everyone who came out to Crypticon Seattle 2013 and made it a great show!

Dog Demon
Evil Scarecrow
Evil Clown
Zombie Hooker

Rainbow on the road

Friday, May 24, 2013

Crypticon Seattle THIS WEEKEND!!!

Crypticon Seattle 2013
I will be at Crypticon Seattle all this weekend selling my book Night Walk as well as other goodies. Come out and say hello!

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Zombie Kong reviewed: James Roy Daley does it again

Zombie Kong by James Roy Daley
I have to admit, I was a little worried when I started reading the novella  Zombie Kong by James Roy Daley. I knew it would be well written, because it was James Roy Daley, but I was worried the premise would play itself out too quickly. I'm sure you're thinking what I was: a zombie version of King Kong smashing cars, tanks, buildings, then climbing a skyscraper with a damsel, etc. Big Deal.


The story opens with a page-long scientific rumination on how large a giant gorilla's intestines would be. Then the next chapter is a guy being swallowed by Zombie Kong. The thing is, because it's a zombified gorilla, the stomach acid doesn't kill him. The guy SURVIVES. Now he has to get out of Zombie Kong.


To make it even better, so it's not just some guy trapped in the belly of the beast, he calls his wife on his cell phone. The wife and their son now get involved. This gives the story some much needed variety to what would have been a one-note escape yarn.

Can I say that I absolutely LOVED how Daley handled the tale? Why yes I can. I'm really impressed with James Roy Daley's consistently inventive horror stories. If you like horror that is well written, start with Zombie Kong. Then move onto Daley's other works: The Dead Parade and Terror Town, both of which I've also enjoyed and reviewed. If you like mayhem and murder, go with  The Dead Parade. If you like monsters, go with Terror Town.

But whatever you do, buy Zombie Kong NOW! You will love it.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Surprise, Surprise: Pit Bulls kill things

Hands Off by David Hudnut
Did anybody see the news story last night about the two pit bulls that traipsed into Sandra Anderson's house in Longview Washington, through her patio door, and killed her cat napping on the window sill? The article is here.

It drives me nuts when I read news stories like this. They are common. Where I live, I periodically see pit bulls roaming the streets without an owner anywhere in the vicinity. Why? Because the fences in people's yards are low enough for any medium-sized dog to climb over. It's no surprise that the dogs get free.

I've even had two pit bulls run into my backyard chasing a cat. I had to chase the pit bulls off by yelling at them because I didn't have anything handy like a bat. I would've preferred a spear. There I was, in my sweats at 7:30 in the morning, shouting at the top of my lungs in my front yard:


When the neighbors came outside, the dogs had already run off. I must have looked like a lunatic to them.

Because this infuriates me to no end, I wrote a story about this exact topic. It was a way for me to work out my irritation in a constructive fashion. If free-roaming pit bulls chap your hide, and you like horror stories, you will enjoy my story Hands Off.

You can buy Hands Off on Amazon.com here.


Terror Town by James Roy Daley
Terror Town is the second novel by horror novelist James Roy Daley that I've read. My review for his novel The Dead Parade is here.

James Roy Daley knows how to write horror. He's really good at what he does. Terror Town delivered the goods in a blood-soaked wrapper. Daley went to film school, and he's a huge lover of Stephen King. (I don't mean to imply that Daley and King are having some sort of illicit affair, but rather Daley knows the works of King well, and incorporates many of King's tactics in his own stories). You can see the influence of both great horror movie film-making and the writings of Stephen King in Daley's Terror Town.

After an initial setup that establishes the small town of Cloven Rock, and many of it's denizens, the book accelerates at a cinematic pacing. We meet Nicholas Nehalem, who is one of the most diabolical characters I've ever met between the covers of a book. I won't give any spoilers. But I will warn Hannibal Lecter that he's a pansy boy.

Then we meet Daniel McGee. Dan finds a tunnel in the floor of his basement that leads deep down into darkness. This scene alone was like reading an exquisitely crafted tale by Edgar Allen Poe. It had me shivering in fear, and nothing bad even happened. It was the expectation of terror that got me.

But have no fear. Daley delivers terror with both fists and a shotgun blast. This book explodes into action. It's equal parts monster-movie madness and serial killer death flick. But more than that, there's an amazing twist that happens about half way through the book. Syd Field's classic Reversal, anyone? I will only say that I was NOT expecting it, and that not only was it freakin' awesome and super original, it gives me hope that the tired old roads trod by many writers still hold buried treasures further down the trail. Or should I say, off the trail, where the bodies are buried. Because that's where James Roy Daley takes you in Terror Town.

If you like hard-hitting, intense horror, the scary kind that makes you triple-check you locked and dead-bolted the front door before going to bed, buy Terror Town. It will scare the crap and vomit out of you.

Buy Terror Town by James Roy Daley on Amazon here.

Free eBooks Daily is hosting my novel Night Walk

I was contacted yesterday out of the blue by Free eBooks Daily.

They were kind enough to feature my novel Night Walk which is currently available for FREE on Amazon Kindle. You can find the article HERE.

There's also some author questions I answered and a fun character interview that I filled out for my character Amelia Wistfell, who is one of the main characters in Night Walk.

You can download Night Walk for free from now until Sunday at midnight HERE

Monday, May 13, 2013

The Dead Parade gets a facelift, without anesthesia

New cover for The Dead Parade
James Roy Daley is a fellow horror author deeply involved in the self-publishing boom. He runs a horror blog called Books of the Dead Press. If you love horror books it's a great blog and you should check it out.

You may recall that I posted a review of his horror thriller The Dead Parade last year. You can find my review here. The Dead Parade is a great read. Non-stop thriller action and horror. James recently did a re-cover for The Dead Parade, which I really like. It screams Thriller. As in the genre, not the Michael Jackson song. Wink.

As my blog readers may know, I followed suit, and did a re-cover of my novel Night Walk, which James was kind enough to feature on the Books of the Dead Press blog here.

But this post is about James Roy Daley's awesome novel The Dead Parade. If you're a fan of the classic George A. Romero style set-up of throwing characters into a disastrous situation while madness unfolds around them in the form of bone-breaking action, you will love his book. I did. If you are a fan of horror, The Dead Parade will treat you right.

You can buy it on Amazon Kindle right now for only 99 cents here.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

COVER REVEAL - Night Walk by David Hudnut

Night Walk by David Hudnut

How do you like the new cover for Night Walk?

Hopefully this will help sell more books. As any of you self-published authors out there know, the cover is king when it comes to selling a book. I read somewhere the notion that "your cover is your genre." While I liked the previous cover for Night Walk, it didn't fit with a modern, slickly published horror novel.

So I took the original photo I'd shot for the cover and slapped a new logo treatment on it. This cover certainly gets to the heart of the basic plot better than the old one did: family of three, walking alone at night, bad shit happens.

What do you think? Do you like this cover better, or do your prefer the old one?

If you don't care and just wanna get down to the business of reading, be my guest:

City of Angels. City of Devils.
In every city big or small, rich or poor, the killers walk alongside the innocent. 
They travel the same streets and breathe the same air. Much of the time, they coexist harmoniously.
But when Devils walk alongside Angels, random acts of violence are bound to happen at any moment…
It was Friday night in West Hollywood. The misty sky overhead glowed faintly orange, illuminated by the tapestry of city lights beneath. Crowds meandered in and out of numerous restaurants and bars along La Cienega Boulevard, enjoying the balmy summer weather.
One restaurant, the award-winning Il Susso, was packed with people sitting elbow-to-elbow while dining on delicious edgy cuisine. The restaurant’s bar overflowed with conversation, laughter, and Friday-night energy.
Tyler Hastings, 22 years old, waited tables at Il Susso. When his shift ended, he cashed out with his boss Giorgio, said goodnight to the cooks and kitchen staff, and walked outside into the fresh night air, smiling. Another successful night at work. Tyler spotted Veronique, the late night hostess, who stood by her podium at the main entrance. Tyler had a thing for Veronique. 
At work, Veronique was Red Carpet ready at all times. On any given night she would fit right in with gorgeous Hollywood A-list actresses who got decked out in exclusive designer wear for the Academy Awards. Tonight Veronique wore blood red lipstick, her hair up in sultry curls, and a form-fitting black dress that caressed her curves elegantly. Peep-toe Jimmy Choo knock-offs completed her ensemble.
“Hey Veronique.” Tyler casually loitered by the hostess podium, pretending to text someone on his phone.
“Hey Tyler! You all done for tonight?” Veronique jotted a note on her seating chart.
“Yup, all cashed out and ready to party,” Tyler quipped.
“Did you get a call back on that Warner Bros. audition?”
“Any day now,” Tyler sighed. “I know it’s a toss up between me, Brad Pitt and Chris Hemsworth.”
“Was Chris Hemsworth the guy who played Thor?”
“Oh, he’s super hot,” Veronique said wistfully.
“Like I said, they can’t make up their minds between me or him.” Tyler grinned. He wished he was in the same league as Pitt or Hemsworth, but he’d already realized that he was more of the supporting actor type. If Anthony Edwards could go from playing Gilbert Lowell in Revenge of the Nerds to Goose in Top Gun, Tyler thought, maybe I can find my own niche too. Unfortunately for Tyler, his only credits thus far were Customer #2 in an ad for In-N-Out Burger and Grocery Store Bagger in a Ralph’s commercial. “Got any plans this weekend?”
“Yeah,” Veronique said. “Thousands of dates with rich and powerful men, all of them legitimate producers, directors and studio execs. I plan on being famous by Monday.”
“Me too, I’ve got tons of dates lined up,” Tyler said.
“Yeah, probably with the same guys I’m dating! Being bi is so Hollywood.”
“Ahhh, yeah…”
“Well, don’t steal any of my dates,” she said sarcastically and smiled dryly. “If you do, I won’t seat your tables.” Despite Veronique’s stunning appearance, she was yet another beautiful nobody looking for a break. 
“As if,” Tyler replied. One of the other waiters at Il Susso had told Tyler that Veronique’s real name was Julie, but if you called her that she would kill you. Tyler was entranced by the idea that beneath the dazzling, high-gloss exterior of ‘Veronique’ hid an everyday ‘Julie.’ 
What Tyler didn’t know was that ‘Julie’ was three continents away from being single. She was secretly dating several different men. One was older, and had plenty of money. The second was young, and had a killer body. The third was crazy and dangerous and rode a Harley. All three believed they were the only man in Veronique’s life. A girl had needs, after all, and in her experience, one man couldn’t fulfill them all. She kept her dating life lock-down private at work because she hoped to be discovered by any of the many agents, producers and directors who came into the restaurant regularly. Powerful men always made time for attractive single women, even if they weren’t single themselves. Hollywood was all about the appearance of things, not the truth. 
But the truth was, ‘Julie’ didn’t like the life she was living as ‘Veronique.’ Julie didn’t want to date three different guys or obsess over how to manipulate men into making her famous. All Julie wanted was to enjoy life like a normal person. Veronique—Julie—needed an honest, sincere man like Tyler, but she didn’t know it yet.
A low, predatory rumble caught Tyler’s attention. A glistening black Maserati GranTurismo Sport poured into the valet space in front of Il Susso. Two valets sprung into action, opening both doors simultaneously. 
A coifed Mediterranean guy with sculpted shoulders stretched languorously out of the Maserati, as if he knew that the paparazzi cameras were trained on him and rolling. From the other side of the car slid a sizzling young woman wearing an explosion of high fashion clothing and accessories. Dark glasses shielded her eyes from the glaring light of midnight. They were an effortlessly orchestrated ad campaign for beauty. Business as usual in the heart of Tinsel Town on a Friday night.
Three men wearing loose fitting khaki clothing, carrying heavy camera bags, and holding long-lensed Nikons in front of them like assault rifles jogged across four lanes of honking traffic. They fired off semi-automatic strobe flashes, snapping photo after photo of the glamorous couple. The photos would show up within one hour on internet gossip blogs like PerezHilton or TMZ.
Tyler was enthralled by it all, and imagined that one day he might be driving a similar car, with a similar super-model on his arm. Or maybe it would be Veronique on his arm. 
Julie, Tyler thought.
Veronique smiled wide at the mysterious power couple as they approached her podium. “Good evening. Table for two?” She winked at Tyler, a hint that he should move along and let her get back to work.
Tyler winked back at Veronique, telling himself he would see her again tomorrow night, when he could resume his slow burrowing past her chrome-plated exterior, toward what lay beneath. 
To Julie.
He dashed across La Cienega through an opening in traffic and walked onto a side street and headed toward the adjoining West Hollywood neighborhood where he’d parked before work. The neighborhood had an upscale suburban quality reminiscent of Tyler’s hometown of Bloomfield Hills, but also had a smattering of $800-a-month apartment buildings sandwiched between the million-dollar condos. Every block was crammed full of enough parked cars to fill a Walmart parking lot. The streets were surprisingly quiet at night but had a creepy quality that Tyler could never quite identify.
“No matter how nice it seems, it’s still Los Angeles,” his father John would remind him several times a week on the phone. “It’s the big city, Tyler, not Bloomfield Hills. Be careful.”
Tyler tried to keep his dad’s warnings in mind. So far he hadn’t had any problems since moving to L.A. He wondered if his dad was being over-protective. Every city had problems. Even Bloomfield Hills. Look what happened in upper-middle-class Columbine. As long as Tyler was careful, like his dad said, he would be fine.
Two blocks from his car, walking briskly, Tyler caught his foot on the sidewalk. He turned to investigate. No crack or root-lifted pads of concrete. What had he tripped on? He noticed a telephone pole surrounded by tall ivy bushes. Something shuffled in the darkness of the ivy and agitated the branches. A twig snapped. Probably a cat. He turned and kept walking.
Something heavy punched Tyler in the kidneys. It twisted. Intense fire bloomed in the small of his back. A rough hand wrapped around his neck from behind and pushed him to the ground face-first.
Tyler’s nose pounded into the cement. White fireworks exploded in his eyes. One of his front teeth cracked off, but he didn’t realize it. Someone fell on top of him and a heavy knee slammed into his punctured kidney.
Tyler shrieked.
Before Tyler could recover from the shock, cold metal pressed against his throat and sliced. His flesh fell open easily under the sharp edge. Blood poured out of Tyler. It pooled around his head and shoulders on the sidewalk and soaked through the back of his shirt, where he had been stabbed in his kidney.
A hand reached into his back pocket and yanked out his wallet violently, ripping the seams. The seams popped tiny firecracker snaps.
Absently, Tyler thought: You ruined my pants. He couldn’t see who, or what, had attacked him. He heard the voice of his dad in his head: “It’s still L.A., son, be careful.”
The pressure on Tyler’s back was suddenly released as the attacker stood up. 
Tyler’s head was turned toward the street, and he could see the man’s back as he trotted off into the shadows.The man wore sagging jeans and a white tank top. Tyler never saw the man’s face.
Faintly, from the darkness, Tyler heard the following words: “Shit dawg, you fucked dat boy up REAL good, yo.” 
Tyler’s attacker chuckled and replied “Next muhfuckah be yours, yo.”
The two unknown men faded into the darkness.
Tyler tried to push himself up on all fours but collapsed when white lightning ricocheted in his bowels. He hadn’t felt any pain in his throat, but he felt very light headed and tired. Usually he was wired for several hours after working the dinner shift. He lay where he was and his mind drifted off as a blood-chill set into his bones. The eighty-two degree midnight weather would not warm him.
In his remaining moments of consciousness, Tyler thought about his mother and father. What were they going to think? This was the last thing they would ever have imagined would happen to him when he moved to Los Angeles to become an actor.
Tyler remembered how last night he had parked right on this same street. There had been no attacker then. Instead there had been a young couple leaning against the side of a parked Audi attempting to swallow each other’s tongues. 
He thought about the fact that his tip money from work was still in his front pocket. His wallet contained only twenty dollars in cash and his nearly maxed-out Visa card. That guy didn’t even bother to check my other pockets. Tyler tried to spit out the word “dummy.” All that came out was a gurgley whisper.
The white stars in Tyler’s vision were fading, as was the faint orange streetlight glow covering him like a corrosive shroud. 
He thought about his roommates Josh and Todd. Who is going to help them pay rent next month?
A faint image of Veronique shimmered in Tyler’s mind’s eye, blotting out all his other thoughts. 
She smiled confidently at him. He slowly realized, with a pang of regret, that he would not get to talk with her at work tomorrow. He would never get to know the real Julie.
Blackness painted his eyes. He swam toward nothingness.
Tyler Hastings had never previously met the man who had killed him on this night. His murderer did not know him either. They were complete strangers, and would remain unknown to each other for eternity.
* * *
Tyler’s murderer will never be caught despite every effort from his father John. Over the coming year, John Hastings will spend a substantial portion of his savings hiring three separate private detectives to look into the case. All of this effort will yield nothing. No evidence, no clues, no leads, no suspects, no motives. Nothing.
The killer will get away with it. Justice will never be served.
Two years hence, Tyler’s mother Barbara will gently encourage John that it is time they let their son’s memory rest in peace. John will cry for two hours while sitting on Tyler’s bed in the boy’s enshrined bedroom. Barbara will sit next to him, her arm draped around him lovingly. John will hold Tyler’s 1st place Lahser High School Varsity Tennis trophy in his quivering fingers the entire time. The trophy will be damp with his tears when Barbara gently takes it from him and puts it into a box with Tyler’s other things.
No one, not even the murderer, will ever know why Tyler Hastings was killed at the age of 22, for twenty dollars in cash and a nearly maxed-out Visa card. It was purely a random act of violence.
It’s still L.A., son. Be careful.
Despite John Hastings’ cautious warning, his Angel Tyler is dead. 
Another Angel will die in Los Angeles tomorrow.
The mysterious man in the white tank top and his companion will make sure of it.
To find out what happens next, buy the full novel of Night Walk on Amazon.com here.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Flash Fiction - Rope Bridge

I read a great post by Sarah Callender at Writer Unboxed yesterday, called That is the Question. It was about the importance of tension and choices in good storytelling. It inspired me to write the following flash fiction piece that addresses both (when I do exercises like this, I allow myself to be entirely melodramatic in a Saturday-Morning Serial sort of way).

Bill held his knife over the main rope supporting the dusty rope bridge that spanned the canyon. Hector sprinted across the bridge, toward Bill. If Bill cut the rope now, Hector would fall to his death. But Linda was hanging from the cliff's edge, about to slip and fall to her death. Bill had time to cut the rope or save Linda. Not both. He loved Linda. But Linda had slept with Hector.

Screw it. Linda was a bitch anyway. Bill sawed away at the rope. The bridge fell dramatically.

"No!" Hector shouted as he fell to his death.

"No!" Linda screamed as she fell to her death.

"Yes!" Bill said, satisfied.

More like Saturday-Morning Serial-Killer.

copyright ©2013 by David Hudnut

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Sword & Sorcery - Unfinished Business

Swords without the Sorcery by David Hudnut

I'm a big fan of unfinished line drawings. Especially the half-inked kind. I'm also a big fan of Sword and Sorcery art. My three favorite artists who do BOTH are Frank Frazetta, John Buscema and Neal Adams, in that order. Yesterday, I was flipping through my copy of John Buscema: A Life in Sketches edited by Emilio Soltero. A rough sketch of a gorilla beast duking it out with a buffed out Conan-style prehistoric hero caught me eye. Yes, ME eye, I'm talking like a pirate for this post. Argh.

So I sat down at my Wacom tablet and set to drawing my own take on the classic gorilla-man-attacking-hero subject matter. I probably put more finish into the drawing than I would have liked, but at least there's some un-inked pencils still visible.

If you like Sword and Sorcery art, be sure to check out John Buscema Sketchbook, Neal Adams' Savage Sketchbook and The Frazetta Sketchbook.

Who are your favorite Sword and Sorcery artists?

Monday, May 6, 2013

Entanglement by newcomer Dan Rix

Entanglement by Dan Rix
I read Entanglement by first-time author Dan Rix over the weekend. Usually, I'm a slow reader, but this book sucked me in and I couldn't put it down.

I've been trudging through a morass of wordy, overly-written books lately. It boggles my mind that so many authors, and I'm talking Big 6 traditionally published authors, are putting out so many unnecessary words. Charles Dickens would be proud. These authors MUST be getting paid by the word, there's no other explanation.

Dan Rix did not make this mistake with his debut novel Entanglement. It was a page turner. I never once felt like he was dragging things out. But more importantly, it was a great story of dystopian romance set in an alternate history Santa Barbara. It had a great romance between the leads. I loved the characters. And it had alternate history (which Dan did an expert job of sprinkling in without slapping you in the face and demanding payment for services rendered). More of a light sci-fi read, which is my preference.

And most importantly, the whole time I was reading it, I thought Entanglement evoked a modern-day Hitchock vibe. It would most definitely make a great film, which I would pay to see.

For a first time novelist, Dan Rix has proved himself a capable craftsman. I look forward to reading more of his work as it comes out.

You can buy Entanglement on Amazon here:

You can find the Dan Rix author blog here:

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Populating my Inferno

Demon Imp from Hell, concept art by David Hudnut

More concept art for my upcoming Hell World project. No, I don't mean the Hellraiser film Hellworld. Hell World is just a placeholder title for my project. Why? Because a bunch of the story takes place in Hell. Before I release any story content, I'm posting concept art of my various Hellish Denizens and Hellish Locations. To get you in the mood.

Pictured above is another denizen of my hell. A demon imp. My Hell isn't all about burning alive, torture and agony. Sure, that stuff happens in anybody's Hell. But mine will focus on the quirky and fun. Fun in that tricky imp sort of way. You know the kind: one second he's pissing in someone's punch bowl (ha ha, good for a laugh), the next he's pissing in YOUR punch bowl (not funny at all, you foul smelling demon imp from Hell). Call it my own personal Joss Whedon-esque take on Hell, but without Buffy or Angel.

My book will fall into the vein (or should I say "stab the vein with a rusty needle") of Urban Fantasy. Well, more like Suburban Fantasy.

More to come!

Friday, May 3, 2013

Selling out is for the birds

I read a great blog post by Julinna Baggott over at Writer Unboxed this morning. You can find it here. Julianna touches on the issue of selling out as an artist, to which I replied:

"Great post Julianna!

You are SO right about the primacy of the subconscious. A novel is a massive creative undertaking. So many creative decisions are involved along the way, from concept to final edit, that it becomes impossible for a writer to withhold their heart work, no matter how hard they may resist.

So why this fear of selling out? That we will somehow lose our own identities if we pander to the business of, gasp, selling our art?

I personally believe that underlying this fear is the deeper fear that we will fail if we try.

As writers. we work for months at a time in seclusion, with no feedback from the outside world. During that time, there is the constant nagging fear that our book will suck, that no one will EVER buy it, fighting against the hope of hopes that our precious thought-baby will SELL, SELL, SELL!!

The pressure this struggle creates can become so great, our intellects will often shout at our fears: "SHUT UP YOU! IT'S NOT ABOUT MONEY AND SUCCESS!! IT'S ABOUT ART! THERE IS NO PRICE ON ART! ART IS PURE! NOW GO AWAY!!"

I believe this is wasted energy.

That's why I strive to think like a live performer. Imagine you are a street juggler or busker. You've got your juggling balls, or harmonica, and your empty hat. All you want by the end of the day is for your hat to be full of cash. if your act isn't working, you adjust. You don't have time to erect elaborate intellectual barricades against self doubt. So you juggle chainsaws. You pause from blowing on your harmonica to sing about heartbreak. Why? So you can afford to buy dinner that night. And you inevitably see results when you change your approach to have greater appeal to passersby.

When you fire up the farting chainsaws, people stop and gape and ooh and aah. When you sing about how your man is a dog because he's sleeping with your best friend, people clap, reach into their pockets, and spare change rains into your hat. And not one of them calls you a sell out. Because you have entertained them. With YOUR art and YOUR heart, and a whole lotta urgency."

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Pictures of Hell - Hellscape 01

Hellscape concept art by David Hudnut

More concept art for my upcoming hellish book project. A basic hellscape to set the tone for my own underworld. There will be vast bleak wastelands of hell's inferno combined with densely populated hellish cities and strongholds. The cities will be filled to the brim with brimstone and devils. Plus lots of demons. Legions of demons.

Urban fantasy goes sub-urban. And I don't mean to the mall. I mean underground, to the earth's core. Well, maybe to the mall too. Call it Suburban Sub-Urban Fantasy. SSUF for short. That's "fuss" spelled backward.