Clark Hays's Blog - Posts Tagged "love"
What if Vampires Wrote about Humans
by Kathleen McFall & Clark Hays
(Note: this is a post we wrote for our "splash" in the Orangeberry Summer Book Tour.)
Imagine if the undead featured on the pages of Blood and Whiskey were the ones writing about strange paranormal creatures of fantasy — humans — instead of the other way around.
Everybody loves a good fright story and there’s nothing more frightening than humans, forever skulking about in the sunlight with their wooden stakes and tan skin. In Blood and Whiskey, we tried to do something different and imaginative with our people, the non-dead, as they are known. Humans have existed in legends and folktales for thousands of years and each country seems to have similar stories about the sun-walkers. We stripped those stories down to the bare bones to re-think the traditional notion of humans as simple-minded monsters.
They are short lived, of course, existing in some cases for just 50 or 60 years. Evolution has left them physically defenseless, weak to the point of debilitation and vulnerable to injury and disease. Luckily, it also made their blood delicious and nutritious. We introduced a new concept — that the blood of evil humans was especially sustaining, but of course we all know blood is blood.
Our humans possess a cockroach-like tenacity to survive and have especially cunning little minds. They use those minds to fashion tools of destruction to attack the heroic vampires. The non-dead are also able to walk in full sunlight with no harm whatsoever, which makes them an even greater threat to the protagonists, who spend each day residing in The Meta. The humans in our book don’t even know The Meta exists.
We also introduced the concept of “love.” Our humans fall in love, a condition far removed from the ever-shifting relationships known to our kind, which are based on convenience and personal sexual satisfaction regardless of gender or familiarity. These humans have a monolithic belief that love is somehow shared between two beings, and of lasting import.
That’s the underlying comedic element of the book, almost absurdist. This love is somewhat infectious, passing between two humans and creating a shared derangement of the senses.
In our book, the evil human — from the mythical cowboy tribe — is a carrier of an especially virulent form of love. As improbable as it sounds, a vampire is infected by his love. We know that sounds almost disgusting, that a predator would feel any sort of connection to our prey, but the book is not supposed to be funny — it’s a tragedy; readers should be warned, this is not another “vampire triumphant” novel.
Learn more about the mythical, mystical world of humans in Blood and Whiskey
(Note: this is a post we wrote for our "splash" in the Orangeberry Summer Book Tour.)
Imagine if the undead featured on the pages of Blood and Whiskey were the ones writing about strange paranormal creatures of fantasy — humans — instead of the other way around.
Everybody loves a good fright story and there’s nothing more frightening than humans, forever skulking about in the sunlight with their wooden stakes and tan skin. In Blood and Whiskey, we tried to do something different and imaginative with our people, the non-dead, as they are known. Humans have existed in legends and folktales for thousands of years and each country seems to have similar stories about the sun-walkers. We stripped those stories down to the bare bones to re-think the traditional notion of humans as simple-minded monsters.
They are short lived, of course, existing in some cases for just 50 or 60 years. Evolution has left them physically defenseless, weak to the point of debilitation and vulnerable to injury and disease. Luckily, it also made their blood delicious and nutritious. We introduced a new concept — that the blood of evil humans was especially sustaining, but of course we all know blood is blood.
Our humans possess a cockroach-like tenacity to survive and have especially cunning little minds. They use those minds to fashion tools of destruction to attack the heroic vampires. The non-dead are also able to walk in full sunlight with no harm whatsoever, which makes them an even greater threat to the protagonists, who spend each day residing in The Meta. The humans in our book don’t even know The Meta exists.
We also introduced the concept of “love.” Our humans fall in love, a condition far removed from the ever-shifting relationships known to our kind, which are based on convenience and personal sexual satisfaction regardless of gender or familiarity. These humans have a monolithic belief that love is somehow shared between two beings, and of lasting import.
That’s the underlying comedic element of the book, almost absurdist. This love is somewhat infectious, passing between two humans and creating a shared derangement of the senses.
In our book, the evil human — from the mythical cowboy tribe — is a carrier of an especially virulent form of love. As improbable as it sounds, a vampire is infected by his love. We know that sounds almost disgusting, that a predator would feel any sort of connection to our prey, but the book is not supposed to be funny — it’s a tragedy; readers should be warned, this is not another “vampire triumphant” novel.
Learn more about the mythical, mystical world of humans in Blood and Whiskey
Love, and Other Glorious Misfortunes
Tucker, from the pages of The Cowboy and The Vampire Thriller Series, writes a guest blog (with a little help from Clark and Kathleen)
A cowboy talks about falling hat-over-boot-heels for a vampire.
One time I saw a grizzly bear get hit by lightning.
I was way up in the mountains doing a little scouting ahead of hunting season and I happened to see this big old grizzly ambling through a grove of aspen across the canyon. I was watching him through my spotting scope while this summer storm rolled in with big old dark, threatening clouds. As if sensing impending danger, the bear sat down on his haunches and was sniffing the air when a bolt of lightning sizzled down and hit the tree right next to him. It gave him quite a jolt and sent him tumbling ass over tea kettle. Of course, being a bear he didn’t know what the hell had happened and roared up ready to fight — all singed and smoking and pissed off — only there wasn’t anything to fight.
It was something to see, from a safe distance of course, and I was having quite a laugh at his expense, but I noticed he calmed down quick. The lightning had split that tree and knocked down a bee hive about the size of a football right to his feet. There was a whole, honey-sweetened bonanza of lightly toasted larvae — that’s what bears really like and not, as some folks suspect, the honey — and soon enough he’d forgot all about the fireworks and the pain and the confusion and was just snuffling happily through a gourmet lunch.
I learned something from that old bear — even when life hits you hard, look for the bright side of things.
Let me tell you about Elizabeth Vaughan. She is the prettiest woman I have ever seen, and that’s counting on the television. She’s also the stubbornest, hard-headedest and just downright most irritating human being. Correction: she’s not human any more, but she was when we first met. We got hit by a bolt of lightning, figuratively speaking, that knocked both our hearts right off their feet.
It didn’t not start off auspiciously. I’ve always had my suspicions that beautiful people think they are a little better than the rest of us — I supposed that could be misplaced jealousy — and I’ve also always been a little distrustful of city folks in general. So when a beautiful city girl with a dictionary-sized vocabulary showed up in LonePine, I kept my distance. It didn’t last long. I blame Rex, that fool dog of mine. He liked her right off, but he’s always been a push over. He still likes her, even though she’s a vampire.
Did I mention that part? Let me tell you what it’s like loving a vampire. First off, you can’t ever have any more fights, ever. Vampires are a lot stronger than us and she’s come close to accidentally breaking my hand just squeezing it affectionately. I can’t imagine what would happen if she got really worked up about something.
Another thing is, they die every morning. Like full on, stiff-corpse dead. Talk about a mood killer when you want to snuggle up and spend the morning in bed with your lady and she’s cold and got the rigor mortis. Lizzie gets to go jetting metaphysically off to some energy field thing — The Meta. She’s tried to explain it; it’s where folks go when they almost die — into the tunnel of light, see grandma, and then come back. Apparently, vampires go there every day. She comes back all rested and rejuvenated, but I’m just getting tireder because stay up all night with her and then can’t fall asleep once the sun comes up.
Also, the vampire world is full of back-stabbing, power-hungry psychopaths. And those are the good ones. The undead are forever scheming and trying to take over the world or kill each other or whatnot. Lizzie has this special power that they want, so it’s even worse for us. Plus there’s whole Hatfields versus McCoys thing between the royal vampires and Reptiles. Two different species, one giant pain in the neck for humans.
Speaking of that, she needs blood to live, and plenty of it. The best kind of blood, the most nourishing, is the blood of evil humans and it’s the best when they bleed out and die in the process. It’s like organic, free range beef to them. There are only 439 people in LonePine, well, 438 now, and even though a fair percentage of them are bad apples, the law tends to notice when folks turn up missing in a small town. I don’t mind sharing a little of my blood from time to time — I’m not ashamed to admit it feels pretty good — but now I’m tired and anemic.
Multiply all of that stuff by her being pregnant, with hormones racing through veins and just idling there during the daylight hours when she’s dead, and an international council of vampires hanging out in LonePine, and you can imagine what my life has become.
Sometimes I feel a lot like that old bear, hit by a bolt of lightning out of the blue — vampire wars and mystical prophecies and a periodically dead girlfriend— and looking around stupidly and wondering what the hell is going on and roaring a lot. But love is a glorious roasted bee hive and there’s no question that my life is the better for having Lizzie in it. I had almost forgot what it was like to feel alive; funny that it took a beautiful undead vampire to remind me.
Note: This is a post we helped Tucker write for the ExLibris blog. Check out Blood and Whiskey for more of his exploits with Lizzie.
A cowboy talks about falling hat-over-boot-heels for a vampire.
One time I saw a grizzly bear get hit by lightning.
I was way up in the mountains doing a little scouting ahead of hunting season and I happened to see this big old grizzly ambling through a grove of aspen across the canyon. I was watching him through my spotting scope while this summer storm rolled in with big old dark, threatening clouds. As if sensing impending danger, the bear sat down on his haunches and was sniffing the air when a bolt of lightning sizzled down and hit the tree right next to him. It gave him quite a jolt and sent him tumbling ass over tea kettle. Of course, being a bear he didn’t know what the hell had happened and roared up ready to fight — all singed and smoking and pissed off — only there wasn’t anything to fight.
It was something to see, from a safe distance of course, and I was having quite a laugh at his expense, but I noticed he calmed down quick. The lightning had split that tree and knocked down a bee hive about the size of a football right to his feet. There was a whole, honey-sweetened bonanza of lightly toasted larvae — that’s what bears really like and not, as some folks suspect, the honey — and soon enough he’d forgot all about the fireworks and the pain and the confusion and was just snuffling happily through a gourmet lunch.
I learned something from that old bear — even when life hits you hard, look for the bright side of things.
Let me tell you about Elizabeth Vaughan. She is the prettiest woman I have ever seen, and that’s counting on the television. She’s also the stubbornest, hard-headedest and just downright most irritating human being. Correction: she’s not human any more, but she was when we first met. We got hit by a bolt of lightning, figuratively speaking, that knocked both our hearts right off their feet.
It didn’t not start off auspiciously. I’ve always had my suspicions that beautiful people think they are a little better than the rest of us — I supposed that could be misplaced jealousy — and I’ve also always been a little distrustful of city folks in general. So when a beautiful city girl with a dictionary-sized vocabulary showed up in LonePine, I kept my distance. It didn’t last long. I blame Rex, that fool dog of mine. He liked her right off, but he’s always been a push over. He still likes her, even though she’s a vampire.
Did I mention that part? Let me tell you what it’s like loving a vampire. First off, you can’t ever have any more fights, ever. Vampires are a lot stronger than us and she’s come close to accidentally breaking my hand just squeezing it affectionately. I can’t imagine what would happen if she got really worked up about something.
Another thing is, they die every morning. Like full on, stiff-corpse dead. Talk about a mood killer when you want to snuggle up and spend the morning in bed with your lady and she’s cold and got the rigor mortis. Lizzie gets to go jetting metaphysically off to some energy field thing — The Meta. She’s tried to explain it; it’s where folks go when they almost die — into the tunnel of light, see grandma, and then come back. Apparently, vampires go there every day. She comes back all rested and rejuvenated, but I’m just getting tireder because stay up all night with her and then can’t fall asleep once the sun comes up.
Also, the vampire world is full of back-stabbing, power-hungry psychopaths. And those are the good ones. The undead are forever scheming and trying to take over the world or kill each other or whatnot. Lizzie has this special power that they want, so it’s even worse for us. Plus there’s whole Hatfields versus McCoys thing between the royal vampires and Reptiles. Two different species, one giant pain in the neck for humans.
Speaking of that, she needs blood to live, and plenty of it. The best kind of blood, the most nourishing, is the blood of evil humans and it’s the best when they bleed out and die in the process. It’s like organic, free range beef to them. There are only 439 people in LonePine, well, 438 now, and even though a fair percentage of them are bad apples, the law tends to notice when folks turn up missing in a small town. I don’t mind sharing a little of my blood from time to time — I’m not ashamed to admit it feels pretty good — but now I’m tired and anemic.
Multiply all of that stuff by her being pregnant, with hormones racing through veins and just idling there during the daylight hours when she’s dead, and an international council of vampires hanging out in LonePine, and you can imagine what my life has become.
Sometimes I feel a lot like that old bear, hit by a bolt of lightning out of the blue — vampire wars and mystical prophecies and a periodically dead girlfriend— and looking around stupidly and wondering what the hell is going on and roaring a lot. But love is a glorious roasted bee hive and there’s no question that my life is the better for having Lizzie in it. I had almost forgot what it was like to feel alive; funny that it took a beautiful undead vampire to remind me.
Note: This is a post we helped Tucker write for the ExLibris blog. Check out Blood and Whiskey for more of his exploits with Lizzie.
Bonnie and Clyde: Love and Poverty
When passion is the only bright thing in an otherwise dark world
“People are rendered ferocious by misery.”
Mary Wollstonecraft — a writer, philosopher and fierce advocate of women’s rights (and mother of Mary Shelley, author ofFrankenstein) — wrote these words more than 200 years ago, but they certainly ring true when considering the social and economic conditions that gave rise to the legend of Bonnie and Clyde.
Both were born into absolute poverty with no way to get out. Clyde’s family was so poor, when they moved to the slums of West Dallas looking for work they lived under their wagon for months. Like many young men at the time, Clyde wanted more than he could afford, and certainly more than spotty employment of the Depression era could finance.
Clyde’s first brush with the law came from failing to return a rental car on time; after that, it was stolen turkeys. Once he drew the attention of law enforcement, it wasn’t long before he entered a brutal prison system that used prisoners for profit — free agricultural labor — and ignored horrific conditions inside (Clyde was a victim of sexual assault). He was so desperate to get out, he chopped off two of his toes.
Bonnie had it better, but not by much. Options were limited for poor young women, especially in those days — a quick marriage and a hard lifetime of taking care of a large family was her best hope. She tried that, marrying a philandering criminal at 16. It didn’t last long. She always harbored dreams of a better life as a Hollywood starlet, but the slums of West Dallas didn’t offer many opportunities to get noticed.
Then she met Clyde, and he noticed her.
We all know how it turned out after that — from desperation to crime, from crime to violence, and from violence to a gruesome death in a bloody ambush in which more than 100 rounds were shot at them, their bodies brutalized almost beyond recognition.
Poverty does not, of course, excuse a life of crime, but it’s certainly an enabler, and that’s the crucible in which Bonnie and Clyde were forged. They likely would have been reviled by their contemporaries and forgotten by history if not for one other element that transformed the anger and despair, the rage and hopelessness, into something else, something that transcended their crimes and cemented them into the popular imagination: true love.
Collectively, Americans — and even those outside of this country — largely remain fascinated by Bonnie and Clyde because, in spite of thieving and murdering, the violence and destruction, they found each other and held on until the bitter, violent end. Misery may render people ferocious, but hopelessness sometimes renders them inseparable. Bonnie and Clyde became the ultimate doomed lovers, finding the kind of love that eclipses all rational thought, all problems, all concerns with right or wrong. Their burned so brightly, it momentarily outshined the misery they tried to leave behind and the misery they inflicted on others.
The real catastrophe of Bonnie and Clyde, aside from the lives damaged and lost, is that they found in each other a love that likely could have sustained them on any path they chose. If things had turned out just a little differently, if Wall Street hadn’t plunged the country into the Great Depression, if the prison system had protected a teenaged Clyde from assault, of they’d tried their hand at different jobs, we might never have known their story.
But of course, their powerful love wasn’t enough to prevent things from spiraling out of control.
In our speculative history series about Bonnie and Clyde, we give them a second chance and an opportunity to atone. Their love becomes a lodestar, guiding them into a new life.
In the first book, Bonnie and Clyde: Resurrection Road, that new life begins when a mysterious government agent, Suicide Sal, plucks them out of the deadly ambush in Sailes, Louisiana at the last second and forces them to become federal agents, using their unique “skills” to save FDR from an assassin.
In the second book, Bonnie and Clyde: Dam Nation, which publishes March 24, Bonnie and Clyde must stop saboteurs from destroying Boulder (Hoover) Dam. In Book 2, the notorious duo take firm steps on a path to redemption, beginning to see the pain their actions inflicted on so many innocent people.
Both “what-if” novels are fast-paced thrillers with sharp dialogue and plenty of steamy romance. The books also tackle, as an undercurrent, the poverty and systemic injustice that fueled the rise of Bonnie and Clyde, along with examining the plight of the working class in that era. These issues, such as the gaping wealth/income inequality and the influence of corporate power, are increasingly relevant to today’s economic landscape, making this retelling of their story alarmingly relevant.
But at heart, it was love thrust them into the realm of legend, and this takes center stage in the series. Now that Bonnie and Clyde have a (fictional) second chance, and an opportunity for redemption, their love is the only certain thing in a world of shadowy allegiances, the constant threat of violence and the possibility of atonement.
Note: this article was first published by our friends over on Wise Words.
Praise for the Bonnie and Clyde Series
“As the rich get richer and the middle class becomes more desperate in present-day America, Resurrection Road is a timely reminder that sometimes the solution to a problem comes from the least likely source. Sex, danger and intrigue, coupled with just the right dose of cheeky humor.” East Oregonian Newspaper
“Hays and McFall make their Depression-era tale timely with reflections on wealthy fat cats and a rigged economic system that still ring true. More than that, the story is an exciting ride, with tight corners, narrow escapes, and real romantic heat between Bonnie and Clyde. Outlaws become patriots in this imaginative, suspenseful what-if story.” Kirkus Reviews
Check out our other books:
The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Very Unusual Romance
The Cowboy and the Vampire: Blood and Whiskey
The Cowboy and the Vampire: Rough Trails and Shallow Graves
The Cowboy and the Vampire: The Last Sunset
Just West of Hell: An accounting of curious incidents occurring in LonePine, Wyoming Territory, in the years spanning 1881 to 1890 when the notable Early Hardiman was sheriff
Connect with us:
Twitter @cowboyvamp
Instagram @cowboyvampire
Facebook www.facebook.com/cowboyandvampire
“People are rendered ferocious by misery.”
Mary Wollstonecraft — a writer, philosopher and fierce advocate of women’s rights (and mother of Mary Shelley, author ofFrankenstein) — wrote these words more than 200 years ago, but they certainly ring true when considering the social and economic conditions that gave rise to the legend of Bonnie and Clyde.
Both were born into absolute poverty with no way to get out. Clyde’s family was so poor, when they moved to the slums of West Dallas looking for work they lived under their wagon for months. Like many young men at the time, Clyde wanted more than he could afford, and certainly more than spotty employment of the Depression era could finance.
Clyde’s first brush with the law came from failing to return a rental car on time; after that, it was stolen turkeys. Once he drew the attention of law enforcement, it wasn’t long before he entered a brutal prison system that used prisoners for profit — free agricultural labor — and ignored horrific conditions inside (Clyde was a victim of sexual assault). He was so desperate to get out, he chopped off two of his toes.
Bonnie had it better, but not by much. Options were limited for poor young women, especially in those days — a quick marriage and a hard lifetime of taking care of a large family was her best hope. She tried that, marrying a philandering criminal at 16. It didn’t last long. She always harbored dreams of a better life as a Hollywood starlet, but the slums of West Dallas didn’t offer many opportunities to get noticed.
Then she met Clyde, and he noticed her.
We all know how it turned out after that — from desperation to crime, from crime to violence, and from violence to a gruesome death in a bloody ambush in which more than 100 rounds were shot at them, their bodies brutalized almost beyond recognition.
Poverty does not, of course, excuse a life of crime, but it’s certainly an enabler, and that’s the crucible in which Bonnie and Clyde were forged. They likely would have been reviled by their contemporaries and forgotten by history if not for one other element that transformed the anger and despair, the rage and hopelessness, into something else, something that transcended their crimes and cemented them into the popular imagination: true love.
Collectively, Americans — and even those outside of this country — largely remain fascinated by Bonnie and Clyde because, in spite of thieving and murdering, the violence and destruction, they found each other and held on until the bitter, violent end. Misery may render people ferocious, but hopelessness sometimes renders them inseparable. Bonnie and Clyde became the ultimate doomed lovers, finding the kind of love that eclipses all rational thought, all problems, all concerns with right or wrong. Their burned so brightly, it momentarily outshined the misery they tried to leave behind and the misery they inflicted on others.
The real catastrophe of Bonnie and Clyde, aside from the lives damaged and lost, is that they found in each other a love that likely could have sustained them on any path they chose. If things had turned out just a little differently, if Wall Street hadn’t plunged the country into the Great Depression, if the prison system had protected a teenaged Clyde from assault, of they’d tried their hand at different jobs, we might never have known their story.
But of course, their powerful love wasn’t enough to prevent things from spiraling out of control.
In our speculative history series about Bonnie and Clyde, we give them a second chance and an opportunity to atone. Their love becomes a lodestar, guiding them into a new life.
In the first book, Bonnie and Clyde: Resurrection Road, that new life begins when a mysterious government agent, Suicide Sal, plucks them out of the deadly ambush in Sailes, Louisiana at the last second and forces them to become federal agents, using their unique “skills” to save FDR from an assassin.
In the second book, Bonnie and Clyde: Dam Nation, which publishes March 24, Bonnie and Clyde must stop saboteurs from destroying Boulder (Hoover) Dam. In Book 2, the notorious duo take firm steps on a path to redemption, beginning to see the pain their actions inflicted on so many innocent people.
Both “what-if” novels are fast-paced thrillers with sharp dialogue and plenty of steamy romance. The books also tackle, as an undercurrent, the poverty and systemic injustice that fueled the rise of Bonnie and Clyde, along with examining the plight of the working class in that era. These issues, such as the gaping wealth/income inequality and the influence of corporate power, are increasingly relevant to today’s economic landscape, making this retelling of their story alarmingly relevant.
But at heart, it was love thrust them into the realm of legend, and this takes center stage in the series. Now that Bonnie and Clyde have a (fictional) second chance, and an opportunity for redemption, their love is the only certain thing in a world of shadowy allegiances, the constant threat of violence and the possibility of atonement.
Note: this article was first published by our friends over on Wise Words.
Praise for the Bonnie and Clyde Series
“As the rich get richer and the middle class becomes more desperate in present-day America, Resurrection Road is a timely reminder that sometimes the solution to a problem comes from the least likely source. Sex, danger and intrigue, coupled with just the right dose of cheeky humor.” East Oregonian Newspaper
“Hays and McFall make their Depression-era tale timely with reflections on wealthy fat cats and a rigged economic system that still ring true. More than that, the story is an exciting ride, with tight corners, narrow escapes, and real romantic heat between Bonnie and Clyde. Outlaws become patriots in this imaginative, suspenseful what-if story.” Kirkus Reviews
Check out our other books:
The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Very Unusual Romance
The Cowboy and the Vampire: Blood and Whiskey
The Cowboy and the Vampire: Rough Trails and Shallow Graves
The Cowboy and the Vampire: The Last Sunset
Just West of Hell: An accounting of curious incidents occurring in LonePine, Wyoming Territory, in the years spanning 1881 to 1890 when the notable Early Hardiman was sheriff
Connect with us:
Twitter @cowboyvamp
Instagram @cowboyvampire
Facebook www.facebook.com/cowboyandvampire
Mars Adrift launched
Kathleen McFall and I are excited to announce the launch of our tenth book together, Mars Adrift. It’s the third book in our sci-fi trilogy and possibly the best thing we’ve written together yet. We’re releasing it on Valentine's Day because: 1) One of the main characters is named Lauren Valentine; 2) It takes a durable and very flexible kind of loves to write fiction together; and, 3) the series, through the relationship of Crucial and Mel, has a lot to say about what it’s like to actually be in love. Mars Adrift is available in all the expected places, including our website: https://www.PumpjackPress.com.
Get caught up on the first two books: Gates of Mars and Scorched Earth.
Get caught up on the first two books: Gates of Mars and Scorched Earth.
