Just giving an update, I've started Book 6 and am happily typing along. If I stick to a fairly rigid schedule, I might have the thing wrapped up by the end of July. That would be amazing, but it can be done. Full time jobs have a way of getting in the way, but I have discovered I like eating and my children enjoy it, too.
In the meantime, another project has been started, cancelled, and replaced, so there might be some serious entries in the next few weeks, stay tuned. Or I may send it to Severed to see if they like it. I didn't, but they might. Who knows?
Also, a non-zombie story has been started, we'll see where this one runs to.
Finally, if there are any artists out there, I would love to see anyone's rendition of John and Charlie facing off the horde at the gazebo in Coal City. Just for fun. I'll post them on the blog if anyone wants their work seen.
Later.
JT
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
Tommy's Tips
Okay, we're going to go over caliber selection today. There are those that argue that a .45 is superior to everything because it makes a bigger hole. Others will make the claim that a 9mm will do any job and have a higher round count in the magazine. I've heard that anything that doesn't start with a 4 in the caliber department really isn't a gun. A claim was once made that .357 was king and if the cops had just kept their wheelguns, everything would have been fine.
Well, here's the rule of thumb we've lived by. Use a gun that fits your hand and is in a caliber you can safely handle for extended periods of time. No point in stocking up on a .50 AE when the gun that shoots it beats the crap out of your hands.
Stick with a caliber that is common. 9mm, .40 S&W, and .45acp were all used by police departments across the country before the end came. Chances are you'll find ammo almost everywhere thanks to local LEO's.
Caliber wars are stupid. A .22 will kill a zombie just as dead as a .45 will. If it works for you and you can hit a volleyball at fifty yards, you'll do fine. Use what you like and can find ammo for.
Later.
Well, here's the rule of thumb we've lived by. Use a gun that fits your hand and is in a caliber you can safely handle for extended periods of time. No point in stocking up on a .50 AE when the gun that shoots it beats the crap out of your hands.
Stick with a caliber that is common. 9mm, .40 S&W, and .45acp were all used by police departments across the country before the end came. Chances are you'll find ammo almost everywhere thanks to local LEO's.
Caliber wars are stupid. A .22 will kill a zombie just as dead as a .45 will. If it works for you and you can hit a volleyball at fifty yards, you'll do fine. Use what you like and can find ammo for.
Later.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Charlie's Guide
Instincts.
Once upon a time, we kind of took them for granted. Before the Upheaval we talked about instincts when it came to relationships, or jobs, or that lone guy standing on the corner not moving for thirty minutes.
Because we weren't gifted by nature with usable claws, fangs of any size, the ability to fly, to be able to see in the dark, or any serious boost in hearing or smell, we developed what is loosely termed instincts. In reality, instincts are a collection of signals your brain is getting about your environment. Stuff you aren't really paying attention to, but your subconscious mind is waving its arms and screaming "Pay Attention, Idiot!"
Those of us who learned to trust our instincts survived. When something felt wrong, even though we couldn't see any danger, we stayed away from it. We couldn't explain why, we just did.
For example: Duncan and I were checking out a farm house in eastern Nebraska. By experience, there shouldn't have been any problem. We'd been into a hundred of these places and never had an ounce of trouble. If there was a zombie, between the two of us, it was toast. Duncan had checked the upstairs and came down to see the basement. Right before he opened the door, he stopped. For whatever reason, he wasn't going to open the basement door. When I asked him what the problem was, he just shook his head and said he wasn't going to do it. WE left it alone and went outside. As we rounded the back end of the house, we could see a basement window open. When we approached, several gray arms started reaching out at us. A quick look showed the basement was filled with zombies, and several of them were the little quick kind. If Duncan had opened that door, we'd have been killed. Instincts.
When something in the back of your mind tells you to stop or run, do it. Now. Better to look the fool and be wrong, then be stubbornly dead.
You best weapon is your mind. It pays attention to every detail you miss and puts the picture together into a mural called instincts.
That's why we made it to the top of the food chain.
Charlie out.
Once upon a time, we kind of took them for granted. Before the Upheaval we talked about instincts when it came to relationships, or jobs, or that lone guy standing on the corner not moving for thirty minutes.
Because we weren't gifted by nature with usable claws, fangs of any size, the ability to fly, to be able to see in the dark, or any serious boost in hearing or smell, we developed what is loosely termed instincts. In reality, instincts are a collection of signals your brain is getting about your environment. Stuff you aren't really paying attention to, but your subconscious mind is waving its arms and screaming "Pay Attention, Idiot!"
Those of us who learned to trust our instincts survived. When something felt wrong, even though we couldn't see any danger, we stayed away from it. We couldn't explain why, we just did.
For example: Duncan and I were checking out a farm house in eastern Nebraska. By experience, there shouldn't have been any problem. We'd been into a hundred of these places and never had an ounce of trouble. If there was a zombie, between the two of us, it was toast. Duncan had checked the upstairs and came down to see the basement. Right before he opened the door, he stopped. For whatever reason, he wasn't going to open the basement door. When I asked him what the problem was, he just shook his head and said he wasn't going to do it. WE left it alone and went outside. As we rounded the back end of the house, we could see a basement window open. When we approached, several gray arms started reaching out at us. A quick look showed the basement was filled with zombies, and several of them were the little quick kind. If Duncan had opened that door, we'd have been killed. Instincts.
When something in the back of your mind tells you to stop or run, do it. Now. Better to look the fool and be wrong, then be stubbornly dead.
You best weapon is your mind. It pays attention to every detail you miss and puts the picture together into a mural called instincts.
That's why we made it to the top of the food chain.
Charlie out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)