A Better Lie

38786237_10155976985498019_355174077184344064_o

It has taken eight years of work to get my first novel ready for publication and now, I can finally announce that you can pre-order a special early edition of A Better Lie through my IndieGogo campaign. There are only 100 copies. Each is signed and numbered.

A Better Lie is a novel about a handful of employees at a flower shop who start selling alibis to their customers as well as flowers. It’s also about an affair that gets out of hand and a heist connected to the Russian mob. On top of that it’s a bit of a tour of Tacoma.

I’m the sort of person who believes you should get an idea of what you’re buying before you buy it. So in that spirit, I’m sharing a special short about a character from A Better Lie. Let me introduce you to Augie.

– Jack

Augie

by Jack Cameron

“This is a great apartment…”

There was a pause after he said it. Augie was fairly certain the boy could not remember his name. Augie didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure of the boy’s name either. Tony, Troy, something with a ‘T’.

He watched from the bed as the boy walked around his apartment. The boy had his shirt off. Augie was enjoying the view. This boy was probably half Augie’s age with skin so white it looked like milk. He had that farm-boy-in-the-city look to him. Augie wondered how many times the boy had done this sort of thing. The boy picked up a framed photo from the dresser. Augie almost forty years ago standing next to his friend Daniel. Dan the man. It didn’t matter where they were, Dan could score enough reefer for him and all of his friends. The photo was taken in Quang Tin Province, Viet Nam. Two weeks later Daniel was dead. Shot by a sniper.

“Whoa.” The boy said, “Is this your dad?” Augie couldn’t help but smile. He’d be sixty-eight in a month but he didn’t look it at all.

“How about you stop playing with my stuff and start playing with me?” The boy smiled and crawled into bed with him.

Augie woke up around one in the morning. The boy was gone. He got up. He checked the top right drawer of his old oak dresser. His wallet and keys were still there. He glanced around to make sure nothing else of value was missing. He noticed a Post-It on his front door. It just said, “Thnx. Put my # in your phone.”

Augie grabbed his cell phone and checked the contact list. He had well over three hundred contacts in here. He went to the T’s but nothing jumped out. Oh well.

Augie smiled. As finding companions online went, this one was fairly successful. They both seemed to have fun. No one was hurt and all was well with the world. He opened the refrigerator and found that he was wrong. The boy had taken something. His last beer was gone.

Awake and thirsty, Augie threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He grabbed his wallet and keys and walked out the door. It was a nice night. And MSM was only a few blocks away. He decided to walk it. The MSM Deli was known for great sandwiches and one of the best beer selections in the city. It was also open 24 hours and frequented by police officers.

As Augie passed an alleyway he noticed a short, jittery looking guy standing near the entrance of the alley. Down the alleyway about a hundred feet further, there was a large man doing a bad job of hiding. The jittery guy began to approach Augie and then stepped away. These guys were two of the worst muggers Augie had ever seen. If Augie were even ten years younger, he might cause these guys some problems just on general principle. But as it was, he kept on walking.

At MSM, Augie selected a can of Wingman Ace IPA. It was a Tacoma brew and Augie liked to buy local. He paid the cashier, who put the can in a brown paper bag. Augie stepped out of the place, opened the can, but kept it in the bag. He took a long drink as he passed a police officer walking in. If the cop were a hard ass, he could have given Augie a problem, but cops didn’t usually bother the customers of MSM without good reason.

Augie spotted the jittery guy again about half a block away. Still standing in the alleyway. Augie finished the can before he got there and tossed it on the ground. He wanted his hands free if this turned into something. The jittery guy stepped into Augie’s path.

“Y-you…you got a light?” Augie eyed this guy trying to determine if he was already high or shaking due to withdrawal. Whatever the case, this guy was dumb as a post.

“You don’t have a cigarette.” Augie looked back into the alley. “Where’s your friend?” “Wh-what?” “The big guy. I’m supposed to reach in my pocket for a smoke while the big guy approaches me and then demands all my money or something, right?”

“Wh-who are y-you?” The jittery guy took a few steps back.

“You’re not wrong.” Augie heard from behind him. As he turned around, he felt the punch. It hurt like hell, but he pretended not to notice. He stayed standing, though he wanted to fall. He wanted to show these guys he could take a punch.

“Wait.” Augie said. He could taste blood in his mouth. He ignored it. “You should know something first.”

“What’s that?”

“Two things. One, you’re going to have to beat me unconscious or dead because I’m not giving you anything.”

“What’s the other thing, tough guy?”

“You’ll win. I’m too old to stop you, but I promise you, before the fight is over, you’re going to lose an eye. Possibly both. I will make it my final act in this world. Now I’ve got about eighty bucks in my pocket and a couple of maxed out credit cards. You decide if that’s worth wearing a patch the rest of your life.”

Augie got ready to kick this guy in the crotch as hard as he could. Then the guy said, “Taylor, forget this guy. Let’s go.”

Augie spit some blood on the ground and smiled. That was it. The boy’s name was Taylor.

END.

To read more about Augie, pre-order A Better Lie at IndieGogo.com.
(Link not working? Copy this: https://bit.ly/2LSG0MI  )

Advertisements

My First Book Is Going Out of Print And That’s A Good Thing

selfie

It was 2006. I wrote a book about all the mistakes of my 20s. It was fun to research, write, and release. I had dozens of conversations with people I might never have met otherwise. At one point, I even had a meeting with a producer from Hollywood about making a Ruin Your Life movie.

Ruin Your Life is meant to be a humorous manual of bad but not hurtful behavior. For the most part I think it still succeeds in that.  But there are portions of the book that I find myself unable to defend. Initially I thought this would mean cutting the objectionable parts and reissuing it, but I think cutting parts out of Ruin Your Life runs contrary to the spirit of the book. So I think the responsible thing for me to do at this point is stop publishing it. I have contacted my publisher to have the book be taken out of circulation. It will be out of print and I doubt I will be putting it back in print.

Ruin Your Life had a good run. It sold hundreds of physical copies and thousands of digital copies. I’m happy for the experiences that happened as a result of that book and apologize to anyone who was hurt by anything I said in the book. As always, the reason I portrayed things one way or another was I thought it would be funny. No harm was meant.

For anyone still wanting to get a copy, it is still available on Amazon as I write this. By this time next week it definitely will not be and it could be gone any time between now and then.

Thank you, everyone for your support. Rest assured that my next book, a novel will be out by this time next year at the absolute latest.
– Jack Cameron

QUINTANA SCRIPT EXCERPT*

jesus (1)

It was recently announced that Jon Turturro will be reprising his role from The Big Lebowski as Jesus Quintana. Below is a script excerpt from QUINTANA.*

TITLE CARD: 1990

INT. JESUS QUINTANA’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM

WALTER SOBCHAK sits on the couch. JESUS QUINTANA walks into the room he’s carrying one bottle of beer. He uses a bottle opener on the wall to OPEN the beer. He then DRINKS THE ENTIRE BOTTLE. He looks at WALTER.

JESUS
So. You want to roll with the Jesus?

WALTER
You and I are the only ones who give a fuck about the game, man.

JESUS
We need a third. Who you got, man?

WALTER
How about the Dude?

JESUS
The Dude does not roll like you and he does not roll like the Jesus. What about the little guy?

WALTER
Forget it. Donny’s a surfer. He’s out of his element on the land.

JESUS
Tell you what. Jesus is gonna think on it. You come back Saturday. We talk it out.

WALTER
I can’t. Not Saturday.

JESUS
You come see the Jesus on Sunday then.

WALTER
Sounds good. With you on the team, how can we lose?

JESUS
You know it, baby! Jesus never lose.

WALTER
You’re not going to miss any games being all the way across town are you?

JESUS
Shut the fuck up. You can count on Jesus. Jesus is planning to move to Venice soon.

WALTER gets up and heads for the door.

TITLE CARD: THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY

EXT. LA STREET DAY – WALTER SOBCHACK is walking down the sidewalk and encounters a LEMONADE STAND. There is an 8-YEAR-OLD boy behind the stand.

8 YEAR OLD
Hey. Hey, Mister. You want to buy some lemonade?

WALTER
What?

8 YEAR OLD
Do you want some lemonade?

WALTER
Sure. I’ll have some lemonade

WALTER takes a paper cup of lemonade and drinks it.

WALTER
That’s pretty fuckin’ good lemonade.

8 YEAR OLD
Five dollars.

WALTER
For lemonade?

8 YEAR OLD
Five dollars.

WALTER
Are you hustling me?

8 YEAR OLD
You said it was fuckin good.

WALTER
I can’t believe it. I’m being hustled by a fucking kid.

WALTER pulls out his wallet. He opens it. He has RECEIPTS and TWO ONE DOLLAR BILLS.

WALTER
I can give you two dollars.

8 YEAR OLD
You owe me five.

WALTER
You know what? Fuck it. Fine. My friend lives just down the street. Come with me. I’m sure he can front me five bucks for your little hustle.

8 YEAR OLD
Who’s going to watch my stand?

WALTER
Do you want the money or not?

EXT. – OUTSIDE JESUS QUINTANA’S HOUSE – DAY

WALTER & 8 YEAR OLD walk up to the front porch of JESUS QUINTANA’S house. Walter KNOCKS on the door. He waits. KNOCKS AGAIN. No answer.

8 YEAR OLD
Nobody’s here. Where’s my money?

WALTER
He’s here. He told me to meet him here.

WALTER tries the door. It’s unlocked. He steps inside. The 8 YEAR OLD steps in with him.

INT. JESUS QUINTANA’S HOUSE – DAY – MOMENTS LATER

8 YEAR OLD
Did we just break in here?

WALTER
Shut the fuck up, kid. Jesus lives here.

8 YEAR OLD
What are you talking about? This ain’t no church.

The two of them walk through the house, down a hallway. They hear the sound of a SHOWER just as it turns off.

The bathroom door opens. JESUS QUINTANA walks out soaking wet and completely NUDE.

The 8 YEAR OLD SCREAMS and runs out of the house.

JESUS
What the fuck, man? Get the fuck out of here!

WALTER
We were going to talk about our bowling team! Remember!

JESUS
Deos Mio, man. You break into my house with some fucking kid and want to be on my team. Fuck you, pendejo. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Jesus will never roll with you!

WALTER turns around and starts walking towards the open front door.

WALTER (muttering)
Stands around naked in front of a kid. Calls me names. Guy’s a pervert.

*Note: This is NOT really a script excerpt. It’s something I made up.

Locked Up by Jack Cameron

I can’t draw. I love comic books. But I can’t draw. Over the years I’ve worked with a handful of artists but they’ve all disappeared. One was in a terrible snowmobile accident. Another just dropped off the face of the Earth. And another disappeared in a cloud of disturbing rumors. So I decided to try my hand at making a comic using images and Photoshop.

As the images are mostly from copyrighted material and then altered, I’m not sure on the legality of selling stuff like this and since this was basically just a ‘proof of concept’ for me, I figured the best thing to do would be to share it here.

Enjoy.

– Jack Cameron

15 Minute Story #2: The Marty Party

TheMartyParty2

Oh, you’re going in the book, motherfucker. When I write that explosive memoir telling everything that’s happened, you’re going in that book. What will I call that chapter? Douchey Guys And The Men Who Are Fooled By Them? I’m sure you’d say it was just a Marty Party, but my friends were there and they saw you and they saw what you did and they told me. So now I know and now you know I know. I hope it was worth it.

You’d say you were too drunk to remember. You’d say you didn’t mean to kiss him. You’d say a lot of things, but you can’t right now, can you?

I can’t believe you walked into that party and said, “He couldn’t make it.” Yeah, that might be due to the fact that we got pulled over on the way there and thanks to our little pre-funk, I blew a .09 and got arrested. Did you bother to tell them that, asshole? No. Instead you got drunk, made out with Chad’s brother and then…

I spent the weekend in jail, you know. The whole damn weekend. You’re the only one who knew I was there and you didn’t bother to tell anyone. You just got your mac on and hopped up on that railing trying to show off your gymnastic skills. But you were drunk and the railing wasn’t stable. Marty’s place has a great view, but that view means quite a bit of a drop.

I wonder if it was painful. Now having a DUI is the least of my worries. I’m the guy who has a cheating dead boyfriend. My friends want to console me but they don’t know what to say.

Next month, Marty’s having his legendary Valentine’s Day Party. He hasn’t sent me an invitation. Thanks a lot. You ruin my social life even in death. I hope landing on those rocks hurt like hell.

Words by Jack Cameron
Illustration by Ossaín Ávila Cárdenas

About 15 Minute Stories
It’s good for writers to write every day, but it’s easy for life to get in the way of that. One solution I read about recently was to write a 15 minute piece of short fiction every single day for a month. You may not have time to do NaNoWriMoevery month, but if you like writing, you can always find 15 minutes.

So for the month of January, I’ll be writing and posting pieces of very short fiction that I took 15 minutes to write. I’ve asked that my friend, Ossaín Ávila Cárdenas join me by taking 15 minutes to draw an accompanying image for each story.  Ossaín is one of the owners of a local zine shop in Tacoma calledThe Nearsighted Narwhal

Write. Every. Single. Day.

writing-monkeyThere was a period of three years where I didn’t write at all. This was in the mid 1990s shortly after high school. An ex-girlfriend I hadn’t seen in a while asked me how the writing was going and I told her, “Oh, I quit a couple of years ago.”

“What?!?” She said, “You can’t quit.”

“I did. I’m done. After the whole Portnoy* thing I just stopped.”

“You can’t quit. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to write you every day and you’ll write back because you’re too polite not to and then you’ll have to write. Even if it’s just letters.”

True to her word, she wrote me just about every day and of course I wrote back. Soon I was writing again and I haven’t really stopped since then.

There have been times when it has been difficult for me to write and there have been weeks when I didn’t write much of anything, but whenever I get stuck, I remember her lesson: Just write. Every day.

I currently have three websites, two Twitters, two Facebooks, and now an Ello. In addition to that I’m collaborating on a novella, getting my first novel for publication, and outlining my next novel. On top of all of that, I’ve got paying jobs that take up a good amount of my time. So it’s easy to explain why I haven’t updated this site much.

Of course, there’s always an excuse to not write. So instead of leaning on excuses, I’m going to take the advice of my ex-girlfriend and just write every single day.

There’s no plan. I’m just going to write what comes to mind. Today it’s writing about not writing. You’ll have to check out the site tomorrow to see what it will bring

– Jack Cameron

*Portnoy is a topic for another day.

Being Wrong On The Internet

duty_calls
People are wrong on the Internet. People will say things that are factually inaccurate and easily proven false. They will say things that any 5-year-old who hasn’t been hit in the head with a baseball can tell you are untrue. They will tell you that vaccines cause autism. They will tell you that more guns make people safer and that the last mass shooting was a hoax. They will tell you that everyone on the West Coast will get cancer within five years thanks to Fukushima. They will tell you there’s a secret root that cures all cancer. They will tell you about Obamacare killing thousands. They will bury you with absolute bullshit that if you heard anyone saying in a city park, you would just assume that person is a crazy person.

And yet, if you’re like me, when these people say these wrong things on the Internet, rather than ignoring their prattle like you would if a crazy person were ranting in a park, you feel compelled to correct them. You feel the need to make sure that if someone less intelligent than you were to stumble upon such a post, they would at the very least see your comment showing that the original post is absolute crap. Because what if an innocent and naïve person were to read the original post and think that it’s true? What if your comment is the only chance to stop some other person from sharing this obviously asinine crap? If not you, who will speak truth to stupid?

It’s been one of my pastimes over the last few years. One might even call it an addiction. I find a cause I’m interested in and I care about. I find people who disagree with my stance and I battle it out online with them. Whenever possible, I try to use links and facts and statistics to back up what I’m saying and try to insist that they do the same.

I’ll tell people that I like talking to people I disagree with because it’s the only way I learn. I’ll tell people how at one point I was a anti-choice, pro-death penalty, gun rights, Christian Quaker, and how through talking with people I disagreed with, I am now none of those things. And while that is true, it’s not why I do it.

I am not going to learn anything from someone who thinks 9/11 was an inside job. And there isn’t going to be a theologian alive who is going to convince me that God exists. There aren’t facts out there that will convince me that killing someone is the best way to show as a society that killing is wrong. Many of the things I see as true are things I’ve thought about and studied so much that in many ways I’m simply frustrated with those who see things otherwise. More to the point, I just want them to pay attention to the facts and see where that leads because I think if they do that, they’ll find themselves in a similar area.

I haven’t been doing it to learn. I’ve been doing it because it’s fun. And while I’m all for having fun, there are better ways to have fun than at someone else’s expense. Taking out my frustration and anger on people who have opinions not backed up by anything more than their feelings on the matter while enjoyable isn’t really what I want to be about. I’d rather take that time and simply make a compelling argument here on my website than get into a thread war on Facebook that inevitably ends with someone I might otherwise think is an okay person all pissed off at me because I’ve ridiculed them for having the audacity to post something stupid.

My point here is simple. I have things I need to do and things I want to do that all take priority over telling someone they are wrong on the Internet. So instead, I’m going to treat you like the crazy person in the park and simply walk away. Facebook friends who post too many bullshit stories will find themselves no longer part of my Facebook friends. Websites that post click bait will be ignored. Commenters so incredibly stupid that it’s strange they’re capable of literacy will be likewise ignored. In short, to all you climate change denying, 9/11 conspiracy, gun nut, anti-vaccers out there, I have better things to do with my life than to tell you that you are wrong on the Internet.
– Jack Cameron