Download a New Fantasy Novel: Shakebags & Co.

Read Shakebags & Co. here: http://www.amazon.com/Shakebags-Co-Joshua-Grasso-ebook/dp/B01ETWWL0G?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0

About ten years ago I wrote my first novel as a way of relieving stress from writing my PhD dissertation. Honestly, I wrote a few pages of one and then wrote a few pages of the other. Needless to say, some of my dissertation--on 18th c. travel writing and piracy--wound up in the novel, and a little of the storytelling aspect wound up in the dissertation. When my mentor asked me during my dissertation defense what aspect of the work I was most proud of, I said, "I liked being able to tell the story of the people and the literature they created." Her response: "that was the least successful part of your dissertation." Ouch. Nevertheless, I still defended successfully, though I hope that the novel is by far the better work, since I've spent the last few years writing and re-writing it, trying to get it to sound less 'academic' and more entertaining. 

Once I obtained my first academic job, I submitted the novel to more publishers and agents than I thought humanly possible. All of them passed on it, most of them not even bothering to respond to my query (typical). My initial response was to destroy it as a youthful transgression, but since I was 30 at the time I wrote it, that doesn't hold much water. So I put it aside, wrote other works, and gradually forgot all about it. But last year, bolstered by the modest success of my other works, I decided to dust it off and read it from beginning to end. I was not happy with the work as it stood, so I re-wrote large chunks of it, made the characters a bit more interesting and distinct, and slightly changed the ending. I think it holds up as a fun, quick read with a few ideas to chew on. I had no plan to publish it, however; I instead submitted it to a few more agents and entered it into two novel-writing contests. Though I got some genuine interest among readers on Inkitt, the contests rejected it and the agents ignore me once more. 

So now I offer it for 99 cents on Amazon as a Kindle download. If you like the exploits of thieves in a quasi-18th century setting, wizards, intrigue, cabals, and mystery, I know you'll like at least some of this work. And if you read all or part of the work, please give it a review, since that's the only coin that has any value in the indie publishing world.

You can sample 15 chapters from the novel on Inkitt for free here: http://www.inkitt.com/stories/13041

Or, you can download it for 99 cents here: http://www.amazon.com/Shakebags-Co-Joshua-Grasso-ebook/dp/B01ETWWL0G?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0

The Naked Art of Excess

In John Berger’s groundbreaking 1972 book on art and culture, Ways of Seeing, he tackles the always-controversial subject of the female nude. Yet not every nude is ‘nude,’ so to speak, as some of them seem quite comfortable in their own skin, while others seem on display, as if their very nakedness is a form of dress. As Berger explains, “to be naked is to be oneself. To be nude is to be seen naked by others and yet not recognized for oneself. A naked body has to be seen as an object in other to become a nude...Nakedness reveals itself. Nudity is placed on display. To be naked is to be without disguise” (54). 

What Was Genre Before It Was Genre?

[This article was also published on Inkwell, the official blog of Inkitt.com: http://www.inkitt.com/blog]

What do you call ‘science fiction’ before anyone had imaginatively traveled at light speed? Or ‘fantasy’ before Dungeons and Dragons had rolled a single die? Though these categories command impressive real estate in bookstores/websites today, at one time they didn’t exist until an intrepid author—often called a madman or fool—dreamed them up. One of the first works that we now consider science fiction, The War of the Worlds, came into being in 1898, the fourth in a string of classic novels by H.G. Wells. While the novel can now seem a bit dated, its events run-of-the-mill to a cynical filmgoer, imagine what the imaginative landscape looked like in 1898: aliens had never invaded the Earth, robots had never considered if they were human or not, ships had never traveled through wormholes (or, for that matter, across the sky), and the internet would have to wait for the invention of personal computers—almost a hundred years distant. 

Falling In Love In Fiction

In Raina Telgemeier’s graphic novel, Drama (2012) Callie is in love with a fellow ninth-grader who never seems to notice her. After they share an awkward kiss (largely to console Greg, who is recovering from a breakup), the boy spends the rest of the story avoiding her, since he sees her more as a ‘friend’ than a potential love interest. By the end of the novel, after Callie is disappointed in yet another boy—who turns out to be gay--Greg appears with a change of heart. Walking her home in the moonlight, they stop on the same bench where they shared their first (and only) kiss, and he says, “I didn’t realize that the girl I should really have been with was right before my eyes. Will you give me another shot?” Callie is confused and outraged, and comically resists his epiphany with the words, “Are you for real?” The frame widens: we zoom into his wide-open eyes, expressing desperation and desire, as he says “Don’t be confused…be my girlfriend.” He then leans in for the kiss…

Can the Novel Speak Every Language?

[Also published on The Inkwell, Inkitt.com's literary blog: http://www.inkitt.com/blog] 

We’ve all eagerly awaited the movie adaptation of a beloved novel, only to leave the theater deflated. What happened? How could that novel, which we imagined so clearly in our heads, fall so utterly short of reality? Where were the characters, the dialogue, the excitement, and that one scene? They cut it out of the movie! When people pompously assert that “the book was better,” perhaps they’re not being so pompous; perhaps they’re merely stating the simple fact that a novel does what a novel does, and a movie does it differently. Artistic forms require translation, and like translation, something is gained and lost when you move from one form/language to another. A novel is a literary construction bound to specific rules, customs, and histories. When you write a novel, you don’t just write a story any more than you speak a universal language; to write a novel is to slip into history, using the tools bequeathed you by generations of writers and slipping into a familiar ‘character’ that we know from any one of a thousand books. No matter how unique your literary voice, a novel is still a novel, and needs to sound like one...and everything we write is a version of every one we’ve ever read, to a greater or lesser degree.

Free this Wed-Thur: The Count of the Living Death

My first novel, The Count of the Living Death, is free for download to Kindle devices and apps this Wednesday-Thursday. The book has been lightly re-written and some small errors fixed, so now I'm hoping more people find their way to it. It was first published in Fall 2013, and since then it has been downloaded thousands of times (if only it had thousands of reviews!). Feel free to check it out and write a brief review if you can. The Count is a Young Adult Fantasy book in the spirit of The Princess Bride or Robert Aspirin's humorous fantasy novels, though it has a slight touch of the Gothic as well. That said, it's pretty tame with no sex or bad language, and even the macabre parts are suitable for younger ages (10 and up). 

The link and a brief blurb about the book follow:

Link to Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Count-Living-Chronicles-Hildigrim-Blackbeard-ebook/dp/B00FQ6711Y/ref=pd_rhf_gw_s_t_1

Count Leopold always wondered about the strange chest sealed with three magic locks. His father warned him never to mention the Box—nor pry into the secret chamber where it was kept. Now the Box has begun speaking to Leopold, begging him to find the key and undo the hateful locks. If he does so, it promises him to fulfill his every desire, even offering him the hand of the forbidden—and forbiddingly named— Lady Mary Bianca Domenica de Grassini Algarotti. However, before unfastening the third lock he catches a glimpse of something unspeakable inside—and turns to the only man who shared his father’s secret, the legendary Conjurer-Magician, Hildigrim Blackbeard. A man who, if the stories are true, will exact a terrible price in return for his service.

Plagiarism and Persona

Everyone is a version of someone else, who themselves are copies of a copy of a copy. To create a persona is less an act of creation than of conscious theft. Even the word persona comes from the Latin word for stage masks worn by actors in a comedy of tragedy. We are all players, cobbling together a role from various plays, characters, and writers. Imagine, then, the difficulty when a writer (who is composed of various ideas and performances) sits down to write a story, which is also an act of persona. A story inhabits the world of a specific genre or style, borrowing the signposts and characters from other writers who have contributed to it, and then has to create a distinctive language which, however original, still has to sound authentic.   

Reading on Both Sides of History

[also published on The Inkwell, Inkitt's literary blog: http://www.inkitt.com/blog]

Literature—and all art, for that matter—is like the face of the moon; always changing, always presenting a new face for the reader. It changes within our own lifetime, as a book read as a teenager no longer looks the same at thirty-nine. Imagine, then, the changes over a hundred years or more, when not only ] the readers but the society itself ‘grows up.’ Some works age well, being passed from one library to another, while others become shameful reminders of old ideas, old worlds, and old thoughts. Something of this latter aspect is conveyed by the author Jean Rhys (Wide Sargasso Sea) in a letter to her editor in 1966, about one of her favorite novels, Jane Eyre. Rhys grew up in Dominica, and outsider to mainstream British life, a fact echoed in almost every book she read as a child. As she explains,

“I came to England between sixteen and seventeen, a very impressionable age and Jane Eyre was one of the books I read then. Of course Charlotte Bronte makes her own world, of course she convinces you, and that makes the poor Creole lunatic all the more dreadful. I remember being quite shocked, and when I re-read it rather annoyed. “That’s only one side—the English side.”

Catching Literature on the Wing

[This article also appeared on Inkwell, Inkitt.com's literary column, which you can read here: http://www.inkitt.com/blog/]

In his essay “Reading and Writing” (2000), the Nobel Prize-winning author, V.S. Naipaul, discusses his place in the grand tradition of literature, following in the footsteps of the great immortals of literature—a daunting task even for the writer of A House for Mr. Biswas and A Bend in the River. As he explains,

“All of us who have come after have been derivative. We can never be the first again. We might bring new material from far away, but the program we are following has been laid out for us. We cannot be the writing equivalent of Robinson Crusoe on his island, letting off “the first gun that has been fired there since the creation of the world.” That is the gunshot we hear when we turn to the originators. They are the first; they didn’t know it when they began, but then…they do know, and they are full of excitement at the discovery.”

Review of The Winged Turban from Kindle Ninja Book Reviews!

Check out this great review courtesy of the Kindle Ninja, a champion e-book reviewer who previously reviewed (favorably!) my second book, The Astrologer's Portrait. This time around, he did a 'conversation review' along with another accomplished fantasy writer, Leisl Kaberry, author of The Titanian Chronicles. Click on the link below for the review--it's an entertaining read in its own right, and you don't need to know the book to appreciate (but there aren't any major spoilers, either, so it won't ruin the book, either). Thanks again, Kindle Ninja!

The link: http://kindleninjareviews.blogspot.com/2016/03/two-reviewers-one-book-winged-turban.html?spref=tw

To Live For the Words: A Response to the Debate of Story Vs. Style

If you ask most people why they read, they will invariably respond, “I like the stories,” or “to lose myself in a good book,” or even, “to meet interesting characters.” Each one, however, seems to suggest that the essential quality of a book is its story, the escapist factor that would make sitting in isolation for an hour or more an inviting prospect. It’s amusing to think about: reading is staring at marks in a book over and over again, while sitting still, and trying to block out the surrounding world—an almost impossible with 2016 racket. And yet these little marks can make an entire world rise beneath our feet, carrying us to far-away places, or transforming our perspective of the work-a-day world. Each one increases our collective wealth, so we horde them like a treasure-mad dragon, salivating over each bauble, even if we’ve polished it a thousand times.

Musical Authorship--or What If They Didn't Write the Notes?

What does it mean to compose a piece of music? Does it mean that that composer in question personally wrote—and orchestrated—every bar? Or what about a melody he/she composed that is then arranged by others? If a composer leaves a work in fragmentary form, and a second party comes in and completes it, even composing new music, is that piece still by Composer A—or Composer B? Is that really a collaboration, or a completion? In short, what truly constitutes authorship in music? This is a difficult question, particularly in the world of classical music, when works are often completed by students and colleagues, or in the world of film music, where orchestrations are farmed out to studio hands, so the composer can dash off multiple scores at once. While we like the idea of a single composer, often this is hardly the case, and a single piece of music might go through multiple hands over decades and centuries. Consider a piece that survives 300 years and is then “edited” by a musicologist: is that an act of co-composition, particularly if the piece is tailored to appeal to modern audiences? In the same way, what about Mozart;s re-orchestration of Handel’s Messiah for an 18th century audience? Is that a new opus by Mozart? Or when Mahler did the same for Schumann’s symphonies? Similarly, if you quote parts of a piece in your own work—say, Strauss’ Metamorphosen, which quotes  Beethoven’s Eroica—does Beethoven get credit (even if he wouldn’t want it)?

Can Women Order From the Menu of Fiction?

Shortly after the publication of Jane Austen’s novel, Emma (1815), the greatest English writer of the day, the now largely-forgotten Sir Walter Scott, wrote an unexpected review of the work which brought her attention and acclaim. Though he praised the work on the whole, he hastened to add that,

"The author’s knowledge of the world, and the peculiar tact with which she presents characters that the reader cannot fail to recognize, reminds us something of the merits of the Flemish school of painting.  The subjects are not often elegant, and certainly never grand; but they are finished up to nature, and with a precision which delights the reader” (1815).