Monster Hunter Nation

Update! Modern Manhood ACHIEVED!

As a result of this post where I fisked the New York Times’ article on being a Modern Man, I realized that my life has been empty. Despite the fact that I don’t eat melons, don’t really like to eat melons, and have never given a single thought to the shaping of melon balls, I would be unable to achieve MODERN MANHOOD.

But no more! BEHOLD!

melon baller


Yes! That is a melon baller! Despite my never buying shoes for her, my wife purchased this for me when she saw it in a store. Because Modern Manhood ACHIEVED!

Now all I need is some Kenneth Cole oxfords and a crying pillow, and I’m set.

The Tactical Melon Baller. For all your tactical melon balling needs.

The Tactical Melon Baller. For all your tactical melon balling needs.

Book Bomb this Thursday, the 8th

Originally we were supposed to Book Bomb Julie Frost’s debut novel Pack Dynamics last week, but I screwed up and scheduled that before the paper books were shipping. So I had to postpone it.

They’re available now, so I’ve moved the Book Bomb to this Thursday.

Mark your calendars! Thursday, nanotech enhanced werewolf PI story!

From the last post:

For those of you unfamiliar with Book Bombs, I pick a novel from a good author who needs a publicity boost. Then we try to get as many people as possible to buy their book on Amazon on the same day. Because the sales ratings change hourly, this causes the book to go up in the rankings. The higher it gets and the more lists it shows up on, the more new people see it, and the more exposure the author gets.

We’ve had some really good results with these in the past. I get a ton of requests for BBs, but I can only do them so often, and I have to read the book first to make sure it is something the regulars here will like. I think you guys will like Julie. She’s awesome.

Publisher’s Weekly Review for Son of the Black Sword

((I got a Starred review in Publisher’s Weekly. They don’t hand those out those stars very often.

Son of the Black Sword
Larry Correia. Baen, $25 (432p)
ISBN 978-1-4767-8086-3

Bestselling fantasy author Correia (the Grimnoir Chronicles) casts a compelling spell with this India-influenced series opener. Elite fighter Ashok Vadal, bearer of the magical ancestor blade Angruvadal, has dedicated his life to serving the law. He fights demons and kills rebels who try to bring back religion and stand up for the casteless, the lowest of the low in this highly stratified fantasy-world society. When the Inquisition sends Ashok to infiltrate a rebel group working to free the casteless, he’s certain it’s punishment for the revelation that he himself was born a lowly untouchable. The Inquisition’s real goal is to engineer a reason to annihilate the casteless entirely; unfortunately for them, Ashok is the worst person they could have chosen for the job. Correia skillfully sets in motion this story of plots within plots, revealing complex, sympathetic characters and black-hearted villains with equal detail and insight. Full of action, intrigue, and wry humor, this exciting series launch promises many more thrills to come. (Nov.)
—Publishers Weekly

Fisking the New York Times’ Modern Man

More like modern pajama boy man-child. This New York Times article is so remarkably stupid that it has already been mocked across the entire internet.  However, as a manly man of manliness, it is my responsibility to address this piece of fuckwittery. The same way that as a professional working writer I am compelled to respond to stupid writing advice that might otherwise screw up aspiring authors, I have to Fisk this.

See, I have two sons. As a father, it is my duty to point out really stupid shit, so they can avoid becoming goony hipster douche balloons. So boys, this Fisk was written for you.

As usual, the original is italics and my comments are in bold.


Even the header is wrong. This article is the opposite of self-help. This is like the instruction guide for how to live life as a sex-free eunuch.  

27 Ways to Be a Modern Man

Alternate Title: Does the Touch of a Woman Confuse and Frighten You? 27 Ways to Avoid Girl Cooties.

Who took time off from his busy schedule at the nail salon to write this.
SEPTEMBER 29, 2015

Being a modern man today is no different than it was a century ago. It’s all about adhering to principle. Sure, fashion, technology and architecture change over time, as do standards of etiquette, not to mention ways of carrying oneself in the public sphere. But the modern man will take the bits from the past that strike him as relevant and blend them with the stuff of today.

My sons, as you go through life you will learn that libprog rags like the NYT, Slate, and HuffPo usually start their bullshit articles with a paragraph that sounds all sorts of reasonable. Beware. It is a trick.

What follows is one dude’s bizarrely specific pronouncements, which range from preachy but passable, to full turnip. Now, if this jackass had just lived his life according to his own code, real men wouldn’t give a shit, but of course not… This is the New York Times, bastion of bullshit, which will not be content unless it is telling you how you’re living your life wrong.  

  1. When the modern man buys shoes for his spouse, he doesn’t have to ask her sister for the size. And he knows which brands run big or small.

Who the hell buys shoes for their wife? As you grow older you will learn that many women like to shop for clothing and shoes. No. I don’t understand it either. But as a manly man, your duty is to work and provide money to your woman, so that she may go and do this sort of thing if she wants.

 As for knowing sizes, no. As children, your mother buys clothes for you. Right now your requests for her seem to be “Get a shirt with Deadpool on it” and that is good. But as men large of stature you will eventually purchase your own clothing from the Extra Large Casual Male Outlet or the Cabella’s Catalog.

For you who are descended from giants, you know man sizes starts at 2XL (or 3X if you need to carry your pistol concealed under an untucked shirt) and shoes sizes begin at 15, but unlike the wimpy New York Times reporter, manly men understand that all men are different, and we do not judge them, even if they shop in the children’s section.

As for knowing your woman’s sizes, no. Your mother owns like 40 pairs of running shoes. She doesn’t even know which brands run big or small, and she has a uterus.

  1. The modern man never lets other people know when his confidence has sunk. He acts as if everything is going swimmingly until it is.

This sounds like good advice, boys, but it is trickery.  A real man assesses his situation and does what is best. A real man must know when to ask for help. You have had the opportunity to grow up around warriors, and some of them have experienced terrible things. Even these great men need help at times. Hiding depression leads to things like suck starting your 12 gauge.

  1. The modern man is considerate. At the movie theater, he won’t munch down a mouthful of popcorn during a quiet moment. He waits for some ruckus.

Or you could just close your stupid face hole as you chew your food, you slack jawed idiot.

And by “ruckus” I’m guessing he wasn’t watching something like The Expendables, but rather he’s talking about the song and dance numbers on Mama Mia.

  1. The modern man doesn’t cut the fatty or charred bits off his fillet. Every bite of steak is a privilege, and it all goes down the hatch.

A real man lets other men eat what they want and isn’t a self-righteous prick about it.

But this talk of steak is just more trickery, sons. This is a Pajama Boy trying too hard to sound like a man, because steak is considered a manly food. Note that he spells filet wrong. That piece of meat isn’t fatty, and what kind of doofus burns a good piece of meat?

  1. The modern man won’t blow 10 minutes of his life looking for the best parking spot. He finds a reasonable one and puts his car between the lines.

Again, a real man doesn’t care what other men do as long as it doesn’t infringe upon him.

In real life, park wherever you feel like. You will either spend time looking for a close space, or you will spend time walking from a far one. That is your decision to make.

  1. Before the modern man heads off to bed, he makes sure his spouse’s phone and his kids’ electronic devices are charging for the night.

No. That is their problem. If you fail to plug your crap in, and you run out of power tomorrow, then you’ll learn. If your father comes and bails you out every time you make a stupid little mistake, then you will never become accountable for your actions, and then you will grow up and make foolish choices, like becoming a New York Times reporter.

  1. The modern man buys only regular colas, like Coke or Dr Pepper. If you walk into his house looking for a Mountain Dew, he’ll show you the door.

Look, boys, nobody likes a bossy asshole. I like Coke the best, but since I’m not a pretentious dickweed, I don’t presume to speak for other men. The thing about “taste” is that it is subjective, and so can’t be wrong.  

Besides, do you know what manner of man drinks Mountain Dew? Coal miners and Boyd Crowder. Men like your uncle Jack, who can bench press like 400 pounds because he pulls industrial electrical cables at construction sites all day, drink Mountain Dew. Do you truly believe that this effeminate, limp wristed, debutante could “show them the door”?  

Also, Dr Pepper isn’t even a cola, idiot.  

  1. The modern man uses the proper names for things. For example, he’ll say “helicopter,” not “chopper” like some gauche simpleton.

Yet “GET TO THE CHOPPA!” will always remain a thousand times cooler than anything this Pajama Boy ever says.

I am a bestselling novelist. Words are my profession. So I really hate the Word Police. Beware anyone who tells you what words you can, and can’t use. They only want to control you. That said, when you see somebody using the word “gauche” they’ll usually prove to be a pretentious dipshit.   

  1. Having a daughter makes the modern man more of a complete person. He learns new stuff every day.

I have daughters as well. I actually agree with this one.

Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll fuck it up somehow.

  1. The modern man makes sure the dishes on the rack have dried completely before putting them away.

Can’t the “modern man” afford a dishwasher?

Boys, as you are aware every family will have a division of labor known as chores. You will take your assignment and fulfill it to the best of your ability. Doing a half ass job is unacceptable. This Pajama Boy is bragging about merely not doing a half ass job. It is sad that he is so proud of this minor achievement that he felt the need to put it on this list.  

  1. The modern man has never “pinned” a tweet, and he never will.

I do not know what these words mean.

However, because each generation is more technologically savvy than the one that came before, I’m not going to presume to tell anyone else what they can and can’t do. That is naïve. That would be like your grandfather telling me not to “internets” or his father telling him that color TV is a fad.

  1. The modern man checks the status of his Irish Spring bar before jumping in for a wash. Too small, it gets swapped out.

And Real Men have more important things to do than worry about how another man bathes himself.

I don’t care if you take all the little bits of soap and smoosh them together into a ball of mutant soap. I don’t even know what brand soap we have, because your mother buys it. The only time a real man cares about the bathing habits of another man, is if he smells bad, because then his stink is now intruding on your turf. Then you will inform him to get his shit together.

Besides, I’m betting this New York Times reporter smells of lilacs… and shame.

  1. The modern man listens to Wu-Tang at least once a week.

Who is she?

Okay, seriously, yes, I do know who Wu-Tang Clan is, but only because of the Dave Chappelle Show.

Here’s the thing. In grown up life, nobody gives a flying fuck what you listen to, and only pretentious cock nozzles feel the need to judge others based upon their tastes. He could have changed that to Frank Sinatra, Pearl Jam, or Garth Brooks, and it would be just as pointless. Being a fan of something doesn’t make you inherently better than someone else. That’s hipster nonsense.  

  1. The modern man still jots down his grocery list on a piece of scratch paper. The market is no place for his face to be buried in the phone.

Who cares?

No, really. You write it on a piece of paper, put it on your phone, scribble it on your hand with Sharpie, fly by the seat of your pants buying whatever you feel like, or your wife does the shopping… NOBODY GIVES A FUCK.

You sensing a trend yet, boys?

This guy is a symptom of a much bigger problem. People like to make themselves feel more important by telling other people that they are having Wrongfun. Judging others makes them feel special.

  1. The modern man has hardwood flooring. His children can detect his mood from the stamp of his Kenneth Cole oxfords.

Most real men have whatever flooring their wife wanted when they built their house, because we don’t care, because we’re working all day so don’t get to stand on it much. Or they have whatever flooring came with the house when they moved in, and eventually when they can afford to they’ll put in whatever flooring their wife wants, because they don’t care. Some men do care, and they can put in whatever floor they feel like. Good for them.

All of those men think this reporter is a douche.

I don’t even know what a Kenneth Cole is. I’m not sure what an oxford is, but from the context I believe it is a type of shoe. As a man who usually wears size 15 Danner boots, this is my Not Impressed Face.

  1. The modern man lies on the side of the bed closer to the door. If an intruder gets in, he will try to fight him off, so that his wife has a chance to get away.

This one sounds good, but as we go down the list you’ll see the reporter is completely full of shit again. His ability to fight off an intruder is as questionable as his understanding of manhood.

Plus, kids, your mom isn’t going to “get away” she’s going to go for her gun too.

  1. Does the modern man have a melon baller? What do you think? How else would the cantaloupe, watermelon and honeydew he serves be so uniformly shaped?

I’m picturing an Army Special Forces A-Team, somewhere in Afghanistan right now, questioning their manhood because of their complete lack of melon ballers.

My sons, when you grow up, if you want to uniformly shape cantaloupes, I will not judge you, but I will profoundly wonder where I went wrong.

  1. The modern man has thought seriously about buying a shoehorn.

Hell, I’m surprised this fucker didn’t say what brand of shoehorn was mandatory!

  1. The modern man buys fresh flowers more to surprise his wife than to say he is sorry.

Boys, this is actually good advice. So I think we’re at 2 for 19. But since you both understand sports, you can see that he’s not doing well.

  1. On occasion, the modern man is the little spoon. Some nights, when he is feeling down or vulnerable, he needs an emotional and physical shield.

See? That’s the kind of bullshit that you just never need to know about another dude! This is just as bad as pontificating on what somebody else does in the shower.

But hang on. Isn’t this the same inconsistent twit who wrote #2?

Fuck it. Real talk time, boys. Women don’t respect pansies. Those who say they do are lying, and once they marry their sensitive little Pajama Boy, they will dream about actual manly men, who take care of business rather than fretting about melon ballers.

  1. The modern man doesn’t scold his daughter when she sneezes while eating an apple doughnut, even if the pieces fly everywhere.

That is so insanely specific… What is this, Leviticus? But if thy daughter doth sneeze while eating a maple bar, though shall beat her with a rod!

  1. The modern man still ambles half-naked down his driveway each morning to scoop up a crisp newspaper.

My kids were all like, what’s a newspaper?

That’s just wishful thinking on the New York Times part there.

Apparently, modern men can't read graphs either. It is even worse, because after the date this cut off the fall has accelerated.

Apparently, modern men can’t read graphs either.


And next, half-naked? Which half? Are the neighbors going “Damn it, there’s that Lombardi asshole without his pants again!”

  1. The modern man has all of Michael Mann’s films on Blu-ray (or whatever the highest quality thing is at the time).

I call bullshit on this one. This is a Pajama Boy trying too hard. The only thing he has on Blu-Ray is the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants.

I like Michael Mann movies. I’m trying to think of a Michael Mann main character who wouldn’t call this reporter a pussy to his face. I’m trying to imagine this reporter’s favorite scene from Heat:

Kilmer - "Can we hurry this up? I've got to go shoe shopping for my wife before my Pilates class!"

Kilmer – “Can we hurry this up? I’ve got to go shoe shopping for my wife before my Pilates class!”



DeNiro – “A guy told me one time, Don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner. Now, if you’re on me and you gotta move when I move, how do you expect to keep your melon baller?”

Pacino – “Are those Kenneth Coal oxfords, McCauly? Because they look fabulous!


  1. The modern man doesn’t get hung up on his phone’s battery percentage. If it needs to run flat, so be it.

You are out of batteries because you were plugging in your kid’s shit in #6, you inconsistent spaz!

Now kids, listen carefully. If you’ve got a friggin’ clue, you know that a phone is just another tool, and if you’re going to carry the stupid thing around, you might as well have it charged, that way if you need it to call 911 after you see this Pajama Boy get beaten up for insulting Mountain Dew drinkers you’re ready.

  1. The modern man has no use for a gun. He doesn’t own one, and he never will.

This is probably the stupidest one in the whole bunch.

You have no use for the gun? What about in #16? Oh, that’s right. We’re dealing with a chickenshit talking out of his ass about a subject he doesn’t even begin to comprehend.  

So, you’re going to fight off that intruder with what? Your shoe horn? Clue time, fuckwit, the kind of guy (let’s call him T-Bone) who invades your house in the middle of the night doesn’t give a shit about melon ballers. Uh oh! T-Bone drinks Mountain Dew. SHOW HIM THE DOOR. Only he spent time in prison learning how to fuck people up, and his idea of winning at Modern Manhood is being a pitcher rather than a catcher in the prison showers. What are you going to do to defend your wife and children now? Talk to him about your shared love for Wu-Tang? Show him your Kenneth Cole oxford collection?

No. T-Bone is going to hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine, and then you’re going to lie on your hardwood floor, bleeding, praying that your wife got to the phone in time so that a Real Men with guns might come and save your pathetic hipster ass.

Boys, the single most important responsibility of a man is to provide for the safety and well-being of his loved ones. Period. The gun is simply the single most effective tool to stop a violent aggressor. Real men understand that. Which is why I’ve also taught you, your sisters, and your mom to shoot, so if I go down, you still have a chance.

This bullshit modern man is a selfish, irresponsible child, banking on good intentions and wishful thinking to ward off evil. Only real evil simply does not give a shit about your good intentions.  

  1. The modern man cries. He cries often.

I’d cry too if T-Bone murdered my family because I was a useless sack of crap.

But wait… #2 is pretend everything is okay, but #26 is cry like a big baby.

To my sons, I’m not going to feed you a bunch of nonsense about how real men never cry, because I’ve seen some bad asses cry. But damn it, I try to save it for a good reason, like somebody died, or one of you did something that I’m ridiculously proud of. You’re overcome in a particularly spiritual or emotional moment, and you tear up? Great. I’ve known men far better than I who do that.

All that said, if you cry all the time like this doofus, then you’ll be seen as a loser, and if you’re lucky enough to trick a woman into marrying you, she will eventually cheat on you with the mail man, because at least he isn’t a wimp.  Women don’t desire men who cry freely about wanting to be the little spoon.

  1. People aren’t sure if the modern man is a good dancer or not. That is, until the D.J. plays his jam and he goes out there and puts on a clinic.

How much you want to bet his jam is really “It’s Raining Men”?  


If this is modern manhood, then I’m proud to be an old fashioned man.


UPDATE! Modern Manhood Achieved! I got a melon baller!



Back from Salt Lake City ComicCon

I just had my 11th and final convention of the year. Salt Lake City ComicCon was nuts (in a good way). I haven’t seen official numbers yet, but people were talking about at least 130,000 people. I can believe that. I’m totally fried. I did DragonCon, Rose City ComicCon, and SLCCC back to back. Plus, I picked up some form of con crud at Rose City, so I started Salt Lake under the weather. I still had a great time.

The con staff did a great job managing such a huge event. The volunteers were fantastic. Blake Casselman had the impossible job of managing a zillion panelists and herding cats, and he still pulled it off. This was a very smoothly run con. The guest list was impressive. The panels were fun. And the fans were having a great time.

However, my adventure with late flights and missing luggage after DragonCon, I am reminded that the single best thing about Salt Lake ComicCon is that I can drive an hour home every night and SLEEP IN MY OWN BED.

For the first couple of SLCC’s I didn’t have a booth. I was offered one, but turned it down. For writers it sucks to sell your own books at a convention. That means you are trapped, and you have to have help to run it or you can’t ever leave to be on panels, and then you’ve got to mess around with all that pesky inventory/sales stuff. Basically it is a huge pain.

Luckily, Kevin J. Anderson started the Wordfire Press booth that travels around from convention to convention. Kevin invites in a bunch of other authors, and his people take care of all that pesky business stuff for us. It’s a life saver. Over the last couple of years, the Wordfire booth has turned into a sort of Author Super Booth. For example, this year he had authors like Jim Butcher, Terry Brooks, and Bob Salvatore signing there. Plus, having so many authors in one spot makes it a destination location, where otherwise your solo author booth might get overlooked in the sea of humanity.

I started with a full size table, stacked full of books, and boxes underneath. By day 2 I was raiding my personal home book stash to replenish sold out titles, and by day 3 I was sold out of the first book in three different series and only had a handful of books left. I don’t know if this is the most books I’ve ever sold at one event (it is hard as the author to tell, because you don’t always know which books the fans bought there versus what they brought in with them) but if it wasn’t, it was damned close.

I was next to a bunch of cool authors like Dave Butler, Steve Diamond, Julie Frost, Peter Orullian, and Chuck Gannon. Steve and Julie are both on their first novels and they sold out. (actually the three closest to me had been, or are scheduled to be Book Bombed, and I’m the cover blurb for two of them). One nice thing about the Super Booth is that you’ll get a better known author next to somebody starting out. As one of the established types, it is a lot of fun because as you’re making conversation with a fan who already has all your stuff, you can refer them to other things that they might like. It works really good for the newer authors. Oh, you like the noir detective aspect of Grimnoir, check out Quincy Allen’s Chemical Burn. Urban Fantasy, check out Josh Voght’s Enter the Janitor (great title by the way). Oh, you like the TV show Supernatural? Ramon Terrell was one of the authors in our booth and his other job is being an actor and he got murdered on that show. Boom. Hooking up new readers with authors they might like is a really fun part of my job.

Basically, I shook hands for three straight days. I’d take a break to go be on a panel, then I’d come back and meet more fans. It very rarely let up. I was talking to fans continually.

slcc tat

Speaking of the fans, I’ve got the absolute best fans ever. I’ve just got to say that. I truly do love you guys. You’re freaking awesome. And this weekend I got to speak to hundreds of you. I got letters, fan art, and people were in cosplay from my books.

SLCC cosplay

I had a Green Beret’s wife come by to pick up signed copies of everything. Her husband is a huge fan, and was currently deployed to an undisclosed location doing badass stuff to bad people. He recorded a video for her to play for me, and gave me a unit hat. That was neat, but even cooler, while I was signing her stack of books, somebody else standing in line had heard her story, and paid for all of her books while she wasn’t looking. Just to say thanks for her husband’s service, and then he walked away, anonymous. I didn’t even know until I got done signing, and Steve Diamond leaned over and said, yep, these are all already taken care of. She teared up. Because fans are awesome people like that.

No matter how busy I was, if I am ever in danger of pride, all I had to do was look at Butcher or Brooks’ signing lines, that literally stretched across ten aisles, to be put in my place. Holy crap. I’m a pretty successful author, but Jim does what I do, with another zero on the end of everything.

Speaking of Jim, several of us writers put together a game night. We played Fiasco, which is a perfect, silly, stand-alone RPG for one-off events. Think of it like a Cohen brothers movie, where everything is odd and goes sideways. Ours was like the movie Fargo. Poor Jim ended up as the only decent human being in the cast (a Mexican Catholic priest and champion of SOCIAL JUSTICE I kid you not, thank you so much Fiasco’s random complication tables). But don’t worry, after Jim was horribly injured when Steve and Allen blew up the meth supplies hidden in the basement of his church, Peter and I burned down the local Walmart to avenge him. Yes. It was that sort of game.

I was Krasnov! Russian mafia boss turned witness protection Subway manager, who teamed up with Kitty Krell’s Maria the Social Justice Warrior to rob my drug dealing business associate, Paco Kerplanskly. Chuck Gannon was Danny DeVito, mob enforcer, who had his junk eaten by a rabid racoon. Steve Diamond was Paco the drug dealer, and when my attempt to murder him with Foamy the Racoon accidently targeted local farm supply salesman, Jim Kerplanskly–no relation to Paco–(played by Alan Bahr) who turned vigilante, to get revenge on Peter Orullian’s New Jersey arsonist Rocko, who stole the show, because Peter played Rocko as a sort of brain damaged Rocky Balboa spray tanned Guido pyromaniac ‘CAUSE THAT’S HOW WINNIN’ GETS DONE!

Yeah. I laughed until I cried. I can’t repeat 90% of Peter’s lines because my mother reads this blog. But for the rest of the con anytime two or more of us from that game ended up on the same panel it was only a matter of time before one of us slipped in the line ‘CAUSE THAT’S HOW WINNIN’ GETS DONE! Which is sort of like the theme for Salt Lake ComicCon in my brain forever now.

I was on a bunch of panels. One of the really funny ones was the late night Choose Your Own Apocalypse panel. This is a recurring panel which I was unfamiliar with, but apparently I have a rep for being fearlessly stupid at improv (I’m so glad that DragonCon first contact improve panel wasn’t recorded) I got drafted. Holly gave me the rules that morning, where three panelists represent three different factions, using audience participation to advocate for one particular type of apocalypse, and then I did absolutely zero preparation. :)

The three competing factions were the Buggers from Ender’s Game (represented by Dave Butler, who used all of his calm, logical, lawyer skills to make being bred like farm animals by giant mantis monsters not sound half bad), the Borg from Star Trek (represented by Jason King, who went in a surprisingly bible thumping religious revival direction with them… oh, you cunning cyborgs) and I got the Reavers from Firefly.

slcc apocolpyse

Apparently, I was born to play a Reaver, because for the next hour I used my Randy Macho Man Savage voice to explain the joys of being a cannibalistic heavy metal redneck. I may have also brought in Mad Max, Borderlands, and President Hector Mountain Dew Camacho for backup. “I think Reavers are having too much fun.” “I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE WORDS COMING OUT OF YOUR FACE MOUTH!” Anyways, I got to sing Bohemian Rhapsody, the audience had a lot of fun, and Reavers won the apocalypse, so that was pretty sweet.

slcc panel

Another panel that was really neat was the big Urban Fantasy panel. There were a bunch of super stars (and me!) on it. On the way in I ended up in the waiting room with the Neon Trees (because that is just how ComicCon is) and then I sat next to Terry Brooks.

slcc brooks


Look at that goofy look on my face. You can see the fan boy glee in my eyes. At one point I had to tell Terry that he’d written the very first fantasy novel I’d ever read, and introduced me to the genre. He was so cool that his response was “that’s what I get for being the oldest guy on the panel.” Then to make my already giant ego completely unbearable, when somebody in the audience asked something about how to make unlikable characters still sympathetic, Jim Butcher talked up Monster Hunter Nemesis and used Agent Franks as the example of how to do it. Groovy.  So yeah, that was a fun panel.

I really recommend Salt Lake City ComicCon.