Werewolves out in the World, Part XII

You usually get either three, seven, ten, or twelve installments of a thing, don’t you? Here we are already at twelve somehow. Also almost at twelve? The clock I’m under right now. A scheduled lunch. So, instead of stacking a big series of wolfy images up as links to the previous iterations of this—I actually just said “iteration” in the same paragraph as “installment,” which I’d never realized a personal goal until right this very instant—how about we go quick and dirty this time, with just a list?

  1. You
  2. can
  3. click
  4. on
  5. the
  6. exact
  7. number
  8. you
  9. want
  10. to
  11. see

(“Every Good Boy Does Fine” has eight syllables, or, believe me, that’s what I’d have used)

To begin:

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A moon pic! Of course! How did I never think of that?

And, the Mongrels fun continues at BookRiot:

 

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Which is to say: thank you, BookRiot. Here’s the link that directs to, which is for some reason previewing, but who am I to argue:

Horror: It’s Not All White Dudes

 

I mean, especially when there’s a cool/wicked bird, who am I to argue.

And, I’m always forgetting to get instagrammy with this. Maybe because I don’t really have access/an account, so always have to sneak in through other people’s links?

 

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Dig that spiral phone cord. It’s a carryover from the era Mongrels prowls.

And this—I mean, really, what could be cooler:

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Full image of that here.

And, two things I dig, with this next one: “bestseller” in the bookstore name, and that dude being the bookmark:

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I’m really wondering who that dude is. And why he’s hiding. I suspect he’s an Ozark ninja, and this is the first time one of them’s appeared on line (partially). Glad to be involved. Also: I guess my life’s now in danger.

And, bookshop windows, man. Best place to be. I’d write in one like Harlan Ellison if they’d let me.

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And? I wonder if coming of age is my favorite genre as well. I tried to figure that out a while back—big writing-thing that I don’t know where it ended up—and where I finally landed was that we can kind of call all stories coming of age. But you have to broaden the definition a bit. The same way all fiction is really fantasy, that kind of game.

And, no Mongrels in here—well, one guy who looks a little mongrely—but it reminds me that things like Werewolf Wednesday exist:

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That was on Facebook. Over on twitter, #WerewolfWednesday lucks me onto this beauty: 

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Like I’ll ever find it to buy, though. Still: got the image, anyway. Can even carry it in my pocket, on my phone.

And, cool, both to be in the lens of Adam Cesare, and to be alongside Paul Tremblay and Brian Keene. I read Paul’s already, and very much recommend it, and am about a quarter through Brian’s now, which, when you take into account I started last night, is also my best recommendation.

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I forget how I stumbled onto this. Something werewolfy, I’m sure. And, for me? Everything’s got to do with Mongrels:

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And, this, this is so, so excellent:

 

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For a long time, the only copy I had of Bill Pronzini’s Werewolf! anthology was one that had been similarly chewed. Though, since I never knew the chewer, only knew there’d been especially sharp teeth involved, I of course had to make a few assumptions . . . 

This is me, sneaking past the book-table at a reading I did for the Locus Awards.

 

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Should have got Connie Willis’s books in there too. In lieu? Here’s the two of us, from earlier in the day:

 

Locus 2016 w Connie Willis

 

And, yes, yes, wonderful—especially cool for me, as I’m right-now writing am military thing, so have been ringing up all the military people I know, asking weird what-if questions that are probably getting us all on various lists.

Which is to say: thank you, Angelique:

 

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And, dude: not only is this an amazing couple books to be in with again, but this is Tim Waggoner. So honored:

 

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Kind of related? Last night I got to sign a Mongrels to Greg Bear. Greg Bear being my hero of heroes, pretty much. Kind of related to that, in Houston I signed a Mongrels for Charlaine Harris, which was excellent, of course, especially as the intro credits for True Blood are so (to me) Mongrel‘d up. Kind of related to all of that: last night I also got to sign a book to Jack Skillingstead—let me say that again: Jack Skillingstead—and, what made it especially cool? It was a Ken Lieu novel. So fun.

And, what’s a list of Mongrels snaps with some Litsy:

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And, does “Bookaholic84” means there’s at least 83 others? I suspect so. Also: everybody at Litsy are bookaholics.

And, come mid-July, I’m doing an event with this dude:

 

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Also? HEX made me leave the lights on in my hotel rooms.

And, Martha’s Vineyard: I’m going to say it. I always hear about it, but it’s like Mount Olympus or something. I have no clue what it actually is, what roads lead there, what kind of divine folk trod that sacred soil. One of them’s Leigh, evidently, whom I know, and thank for nabbing that Mongrels:

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Does Monk go there on “vacation” at one point, maybe? Or is this something-something ‘Napa”-something? I may be talking about different coasts, here. Apologies to all.

And, proud to be bundled with Gabino:

 

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And this is happening this week, here in Seattle-land:

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Last time I read there it was very fun—got Growing Up Dead in Texas, I believe, which is hanging out in Union Square right about now, looks like.

And, this Mongrels, it’s hanging all the way back in Texas:

 

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Specifically? It’s hanging out exactly in some country a certain werewolf family maybe drove a big Delta 88 through, headed for New Mexico, once upon a crazy night.

But aren’t they all.

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