Meet May Blair, Author

May Blair, a humorist and screenwriter who loves to find the fun in human psychology, is the author of Black Friday Insanity, a holiday-themed novelette. She describes the book as part biography and part fiction--which parts she won't tell.

May is a teacher, poet, cook, and wife, as well as a mom to three cats (Cinny, Rosy, and Tina). You can find her on Twitter, and find her book on Amazon. May lives in Orlando, Florida.

1. What inspired you to write Black Friday Insanity?

I was inspired by my relatives, personal Black Friday experiences, and ridiculous news stories. Black Friday Insanity is a comedic expression of shopping and sibling rivalry.

2. As an author, what does shopping represent to you both literally and metaphorically?

In this story, shopping represents many things for the main character, Jane. Her anger is being released and defining her. Her self-esteem issues are being exposed because they allowed her to be triggered into a rage. Shopping is not about acquiring stuff to Jane--she knows she doesn't need the stuff. Shopping is about getting back at people: her sisters.

3. Why do you think the holidays are so stressful for so many people--and what makes the holidays a rich topic for an author?

The holidays are what we choose to make of them. People who are running around feeling stressed have chosen to take on a myriad of rituals (shopping, baking, cooking, traveling, hosting).

Most people take on these activities without deep reflection as to why they "have to" do these things. It is in the "have to" that the stress becomes negative (and creates resentment). I want to make some cupcakes for dessert, or I have to make cupcakes for dessert can make a huge difference in the person's emotions.

I believe that the holidays are such a rich topic because fall and winter have brought people inside to nest. They are not as distracted with the outside environment as they were in the warmer months. Since they are nesting or hibernating, they are in the mood for indoor entertainment and stories. Holiday stories have a little extra excitement because there are a few extra events taking place that don't happen on routine days (work, drive, clean, etc.).

4. What do you think about the trend among some people to reframe Black Friday as "Buy Nothing Day"?

I hadn't heard about "Buy Nothing Day," but I assume people are revolting against the insanity of Black Friday. Black Friday can bring out the worst in people. Since Black Friday brings people out in multitudes, the worst of human expression is multiplied.

5. In writing a short novel, how do you maintain a balance between writing about events and feelings drawn from your own life and creating a work of fiction?

This particular story was a pleasure to write. Much of it was taken straight from memory of incidents with people I've known. I added a little comedic exaggeration, and the same stories that had brought mental anguish then became funny perceptions.

Thanks, May!

Excerpt from Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman by JB Lynn

JB Lynn, author of the best selling Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman series, is a compulsive reader, a runner (the really slow sort), an enthusiastic cook (who doesn't get the appeal of the Food Network), and someone who has an irresistible urge to eavesdrop at all times.

The Neurotic Hitwoman series has it all: murder, romance, suspense, comic relief, and talking animals with attitude. Learn more about the series on JB's website. The books are available for purchase via Amazon, iTunes, and Kobo.

Below is an excerpt from Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman.

*

You just know it’s going to be a bad day when you’re stuck at a red light and Death pulls up behind you in a station wagon.

I'd been using the rearview mirror to touch up my lip gloss when I spotted him. Okay, maybe he wasn't really Death, but dressed in a black raincoat with the hood pulled up covering his face, he sure looked like he could pluck a scythe out of thin air.

It was one of those days when I kept catching the specter of Death everywhere. I'd catch a glimpse of him in the condensation on the bathroom mirror as I stepped out of the shower, or burnt into my morning toast, or in the pile of dog shit I narrowly missed stepping in... or didn't.

Death was idling behind me, and I was kinda freaked out. Which was why, completely forgetting about the damn April showers that had been falling for three days straight, I floored my crappy, beat-up, not-gently-used Honda the second that light turned green.

Hydroplaning, the car spun out into the intersection, with me pumping the brakes while wondering if I should have been steering into the skid or out of it, and berating myself for not having paid more attention during my high school Driver's Ed course.

I knew I was gonna die. I could already hear the angels singing.

Three months before, I'd had the same feeling as another car slid out of control. I hadn't been driving then; my sister's idiot husband had been behind the wheel. I'd been in the backseat, singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" to my three-year-old niece Katie, trying to distract her from the argument her parents were having in the front seat. Suddenly the car swerved and squealed, and as we rolled over onto the driver's side, I distinctly remember thinking, Dear God, please don't let us die.

I didn’t think that three months later. In this moment I was resigned to my fate.

But then, miraculously, my little Honda gained traction, and I achieved a semblance of control over the vehicle. I wasn't in the clear, though. Squinting at the rearview mirror, I could see that Death had followed me through the rain-soaked intersection.

And I could still hear the singing of the angels, but it wasn't a heavenly sound.

It was loud. It was annoying.

From the floor of the passenger seat, I snatched up the bag of crickets that I'd bought for Godzilla. They were making an unholy racket. I shook it hard. That shut the little fuckers up.

When I first became responsible for Godzilla's care, I tried giving him freeze-dried crickets. But that damn lizard, he's got a discerning palate and insists on the live version, which is a pain in the ass because I hate bugs. Really hate 'em. Just looking at them gives me that awful creepy-crawly feeling, but I'd pledged to Katie that I'd take good care of the only pet she'd ever been allowed.

There was no way of knowing whether she even knew I'd made her that promise. She'd been in a coma, a "persistent vegetative state," as the doctors liked to call it, ever since the car accident. Her parents had died on impact, according to police. I'd walked away unharmed... except for the fact that I can now talk to a lizard.

"Call me God," he'd insisted the first time I'd thought to feed him.

He'd never spoken to me before. I mean animals, or reptiles or amphibians, or whatever the hell he is, don't talk. I know that. I haven't gone totally around the bend.

But the thing is, ever since the car accident, we can converse. And we do. A lot.

Maybe I've got brain damage, or maybe it's the emotional trauma of having my sister die and almost losing Katie, but I swear that I've turned into Doctor-freakin-Dolittle.

Of course, I haven't told anyone about my newfound ability. They'd lock me up in a funny farm like my mom. Or run a bunch of tests. Or run a bunch of tests and then lock me up. And if they did that, I wouldn't be able to visit Katie. And she'd be left all alone there, lying in a hospital bed, with only the witches to look after her.

My three aunts aren't really witches. I'm not so delusional as to think they've got magical powers. They're just extraordinarily evil in their own "helpfully" meddlesome way.

So I keep the secret conversations with God to myself. To the rest of the world, it probably appears that I'm coping pretty well. I wash my clothes, bring the newspaper in, and have even gone back to work in hell (also known as an insurance company call center).

My piddly paycheck isn't going to make much of a dent in the pile of hospital bills that are piling up faster than a Colorado snowfall, but it's a decent cover. It's not like I can go around putting HITWOMAN on my tax return.

Death, or at least the driver in the station wagon, coasted past as I turned my blinker on to signal my turn into Apple Blossom Estates. There's no such thing as apple blossoms. Three months before, God, licking his lizard lips after chowing down on a cricket, had pointed out that even he knew that. But it sounds fancy right? Or at least like the over-promising prose of a condo developer's advertising. It's not. It's just a fancy name for a brain injury rehab, or as they like to call it, a "premium care facility."

Parking in the visitors' lot, I left the bag o' bugs to their chirping (which sounded suspiciously like Madonna's "Like a Prayer") and headed inside. It was time to tell my boss that I was ready to kill a man. But you're probably wondering how a nice girl like me got a job like this....

*

Thanks, JB!

Meet Wright Forbucks, Author

Wright Forbucks (also known as W4$) is a comic fiction writer. He is the author of The General Store, The Walking Man, Even Steven, and most recently, Billy Grist. He lives in Massachusetts, in a town that grows apples. He is married with children. He is also devout Red Sox fan, a graduate of an Ivy League university, and an inventor of many fun things. Learn more about the author and his books on his website.

1. You have one of my all-time favorite author names. What's the story behind it?

Real simple. It's my real name :)

Actually, the name pokes fun at myself and Indie Publishing. I think many "writers" rushed into self publishing thinking it was a gold mine. I was one of these people. I make some decent bucks inventing things, but often I was not paid my royalties due by my broke or greedy licensees. So, I decided to write a book to see if I could cash in on some direct payments from Jeff Bezos. In all, I've made a few hundred bucks on book sales, so I no longer have any illusions about writing for big bucks. Instead I write because I really enjoy it. This amazes me because I never had any desire to be an author, but now I'm loaded with ideas for books and having a great time with it. I totally look forward to writing and try to put in an hour or two a day. I also discovered I have an ability to consistently write 500 words an hour and I never have a bout of writer's block. I'm not sure this is a skill, but I can crank out books and it is a very part time thing for me.

2. When writing comic fiction, do you generally have a sense of what will read as funny to other people, or do you regularly share your work with other readers to get a feel for how it plays?

I do not test my stories to see if people think they are funny. I couldn't care less. I just let it rip and hope for the best. My books start with a concept. I then make up a related story in my head. I then write the story down fast--very fast. I don't use an outline. I then re-write the book a couple times to make sure the quality is good. All the funny stuff happens in the first draft. I never come up with a funny thought when I'm in editing mode. After I complete each book I'm overwhelmed by a desired to re-write the whole book again to make it better, which I'm doing to The General Store to make it more light-hearted.

3. Who are some of your favorite writers of comic fiction, and how did you get started with your own writing?

My favorite writer of comic fiction is Kurt Vonnegut. I loved Blue Beard, The Sirens of Titan, and several of his other works. Frankly, until recently, I didn't read many novels. I spent a good deal of time reading technical articles about physics, public health, and other things that interest me, but I only read a few novels a year. So, I don't know my own genre. In fact, on several occasions a real writer has sent me an email saying I remind them of some famous author who I then have to google. Per above, I got started writing because I thought I could cash in on the ebook wave--maybe some day :)

4. What is your "day job," and do your colleagues know about your writing career?

Nobody knows I write books, but my lawyer, and Uncle Sam. My wife and family don't even know I write books. I am not ashamed of my work in any way, but it's just my thing. I'm not looking for advice or acclaim. I like to keep things simple, and sometimes keeping your mouth shut helps. I received an email the other day saying it's a damn good thing I have a pen name, because if radical Islamists read Billy Grist, they're going to try to kill me. This is true. But, to this I say, bring it on! (You can talk tough when you have a pen name.)

I real life :), I'm a engineer and scientist. I make a living inventing things. Most of my inventions involve the manipulation of light. I have numerous patents and a couple million unit sellers on the market, so I do okay, not fantastic, but I have no boss and I usually make ends meet.

5. As a writer who values originality, what's helped you to get your books into the hands of interested readers, outside of mainstream channels of the "big" publishers?

I have zero desire to work with a publisher. I want to do my own thing without interference. This means I have a very small following, but I'm cool with that. I'd write for ten or ten million. I started out with Twitter which led to relationships with a few authors which led to a few readers. I then did a free giveaway of The Walking Man at Amazon, and for some reason, 8000 downloads happened in a few hours. I picked up many readers after that event. In comparison, Billy Grist, a better book, only received 81 downloads over the same time period. So...I'm currently struggling to find readers. However, based upon my reviews to date, which are not from family and friends, I seem to be picking up a few readers, which is all I need. If people like reading my books, great. If not, there's not much I can do about it because I have no desire to write a book based upon an outline with proven sales appeal, which does not mean my next book is not going to be about a voluptuous teenage-female vampire who hangs out with an orphaned wizard :)

Thanks, Wright!