Posts Tagged ‘satire’

 

Bye Bye Blackbird by Elizabeth Crowens Banner

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BYE BYE BLACKBIRD
by Elizabeth Crowens
February 17 – March 14, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

 

 

Synopsis:
A BABS NORMAN HOLLYWOOD MYSTERY

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  In the summer of 1941, Hollywood heats up again when Humphrey Bogart arrives right after a female corpse with a dead bird stuffed inside her overcoat topples into the office of B. Norman Investigations. While filming The Maltese Falcon, Bogie found a mysterious ancient Egyptian hawk artifact on his doorstep containing a mummified black bird. Someone with dark intentions threatens the main cast, one by one, leaving dead birds, from crows to falcons, as their calling cards. While more murders pile up, jeopardizing the film from being finished, Bogie hires private eyes Babs Norman and Guy Brandt, infuriating his volatile third wife, Mayo Methot, or Sluggy, as she’s known in some circles. Unraveling the personal lives of Mary Astor, John Huston, Sydney Greenstreet, Elisha Cook, Jr., Peter Lorre, and Jack L. Warner in their quirky, humorous way, the PIs turn the underbelly of Tinseltown upside down to stop the crazed killer from claiming another victim.

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Praise for Bye Bye Blackbird:

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“No author can seamlessly blend Hollywood history with and engaging mystery yarn better than Elizabeth Crowens. It’s a jaunty tale that could have been lifted from a Warner Bros. screenplay with all the principals from the studio’s famed stock company: The Maltese Falcon, Bogie, Mary Astor, Greenstreet, John Huston, and Jack L. Warner. Fasten your seatbelts for a wild ride through 1940s Hollywood!” ~ Alan K. Rode, film historian and author, Michael Curtiz: A Life in Film

“Crowens does it again with Bye Bye Blackbird. Babs, Brandt, and Bogart make this rocking novel the stuff dreams are made of.” ~ Reed Farrel Coleman. New York Times bestselling author of Blind to Midnight

“It’s like someone shook a movie projector and out tumbled Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Peter Lorre, and a duo from a struggling PI agency bringing all the lighthearted fun of a 1940’s Hollywood mystery. That someone is Elizabeth Crowens.” ~ Tom Straw, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

“A creative twist on The Maltese Falcon: Dead birds show up on doorsteps. Humphrey Bogart assumes the role of a real-life Sam Spade, and two young PIs rescue every oddball animal as they investigate. Even the mogul of a major movie studio is no match for a wisecracking myna bird who sounds like a Warner Brothers cartoon. If you’re a fan of Turner Classic Movies and the Golden Age of Hollywood, Bye Bye Blackbird will be sure to entertain.” ~ Robert Dugoni, New York Times bestselling author of The Tracy Crosswhite Mystery Series

“An office full of lost pets, a strange dame drops dead in the doorway, and Bogie appears with a knock-off Egyptian hawk … while shooting The Maltese Falcon. Thus begins the wild ride of Elizabeth Crowens’ Bye Bye Blackbird. Babs and Guy, the heroes of Hounds of the Hollywood Baskervilles, continue in this welcome, hilarious and worthy sequel that I can only describe as The Thin Man meets ‘hardboiled’ with both tongues firmly in cheek. Famous names, Hollywood haunts, and a crime I dare you to solve, make this well worth your time. As a lover of Old Hollywood, I loved this book!” ~ Jon Lindstrom, USA Today bestselling author of Hollywood Hustle, 4-time Emmy© nominee, award-winning filmmaker, and veteran actor known for True Detective, Bosch, and General Hospital.

“Elizabeth Crowens’ Bye Bye Blackbird is a welcome addition to the Babs Norman Hollywood Mystery series. Set during the Golden Age of Hollywood and brimming with depictions of its personalities, Crowens succeeds in bringing Old Hollywood to life and offering readers another thoroughly entertaining installment to this series.” ~ Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., author of the Hometowns to Hollywood series

“A delectable mystery set in the Golden Age of Hollywood, Elizabeth Crowens Bye Bye Blackbird is a fantastic addition to her Babs Norman series with a treat of a cast featuring Bogart, Mary Astor, Peter Lorre and other screen legends from the era brought to stunning life.” ~ Lee Matthew Goldberg, award-nominated author of The Great Gimmelmans and The Mentor

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Bye Bye Blackbird Trailer:

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Book Details:

Genre: Golden Age of Hollywood Private Investigator novel with satire

Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: January 28, 2025 Number of Pages: 340 Series: Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery, Book 2 | Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery

Book Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Enjoy this peek inside:

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Chapter 1
Look at the Birdie!

Hollywood 1941

On Friday, July 4th, only the most essential, dedicated, or insane Los Angelenos punched the clock. Established businesses that usually stayed open closed early that afternoon. For the fledgling ones, like the young private detectives at B. Norman Investigations, there would be no weenie roasts, barbeques, or national holiday celebrations. Death would soon follow. Every electric fan they owned hummed its own tune. Between the fan blades whirring and the cats purring, panting dogs, who could qualify as hotdogs, an injured pelican with its wing in a sling, and their janitor’s wisecracking myna bird, the whole kit and caboodle at Hollywood Boulevard and N. Sycamore resembled a cross between the Humane Society and the Griffith Park Zoo.

Guy Brandt, more detective-partner than secretary, manned the desk upfront. On top of it: a shoebox of magazine clippings, scissors, and a stack of The Times and Herald-Examiner. He undid one more button on his clammy, sweat-stained shirt, flung his tie onto their hat rack, and took a swig of his warm Nehi orange soda, already flat. He hoped to find new clients from newspaper leads but wasn’t getting anywhere. Babs Norman, who always had every pin curl in place, patted off her sticky forehead with a handkerchief. Way beyond a simple touch-up with powder and fresh lipstick, only a masterful makeup wizard, like Perc Westmore, could bring new life to this wilted flower. “Wouldn’t it be fine and dandy if we could afford to run an ad at least once a week saying that we’re private detectives, specializing in discreet celebrity cases?” she asked. An adventurous kitten, who strayed from the pack, latched on to Guy’s sock and started to climb his leg. “Maybe we should ask if we can put a note in the downstairs lobby that we’re also a pet adoption service.” He unhooked its claws, returning him to his mama. “You think that would pay off our debts?” “Do you always have to sound like a broken record?” An Irish Wolfhound, in need of a bath, sauntered in from the doorway between the two offices. He went up to Guy and plopped his oversized, hairy head into his lap. “Dog days not agreeing with you, Sir Henry?” After rubbing the furry beast’s head, he went to their icebox and plopped chunks of ice in the various water bowls scattered around both rooms. Several prostrated cats laid on their backs, trying to find coolness on the linoleum floor. From under his pile of clippings, he fished out a copy of Black Mask. Babs, with a wooden clothespin clamping her nostrils shut and carrying an odiferous box of shredded newspapers, walked into his office and stopped short when she caught him reading the pulp. “You think we’re going to find our next client from detective fiction? We need another high-profile case like when we rescued Asta, so MGM could go into production on their next Thin Man film. They paid us an unheard-of amount of money…until you lost it all.” “Stop being such a sourpuss.” He refused to give her eye contact. “Do you think I’m enjoying spending time in our stifling office? I’d rather be at the beach with the man of my dreams.” Her inflection had a hint of sarcasm. “Who’s the lucky fella?” She went over to their monstrous dog and kissed him on the nose. “Looks like it’s you, Sir Henry of the Baskervilles. Instead of my frog prince, you’re my dog prince. Ah, you’re such a good boy.” She stared at the bulldog in the corner. “But we really need to paper-train Bruno.” Their adopted bulldog whined. “You hurt his feelings,” Guy said. “Give him a good scratch behind his ears and apologize.” She scowled. “I’ll give him two more weeks, and it’ll be your job to train him. Otherwise, he can go back to Wiggins, and I don’t care if one of his kids breaks out in hives.” She headed out the door to dump the litter. * * * “Our phone rang twice while you were out,” Guy said. “But Wiggins’ stupid bird answered before I could.” “Hello, sucker!” the myna bird cackled. “Down for the count…1…2…3. Knocked him in the kisser, didn’t ya?” “By the time I picked up the receiver, whoever it was hung up,” he explained. “It’s hard to believe a bird can be so smart,” Babs muttered. “Smart-mouthed is more like it,” he said. “Sounds like Jimmy Cagney, who he’s named after. Maybe we should let him earn his keep. The bird can impersonate him at parties.” Babs stared at the troublemaker. “The person on the other end probably thought it was a prank.” She looked around the room. “Keep it up and…I got a lot of hungry cats and canines who wouldn’t mind a bowlful of myna bird stew.” Wiggins, the building janitor, propped their front door open, causing their ginger tomcat to disappear into the hallway faster than gunfire. “My wife said the same. What are the two of ya doing here on Independence Day? With the tenants gone, I heard yer bickering all the way in the basement. Sounded like a married couple in divorce court. How did ya get in?” “We had an extra set of keys,” Guy said. Wiggins planted his hands on his hips. “More like makin’ a copy of my set while my back was turned. There’s no foolin’ me. Come on now. Who’ll be the first to confess?” Both detectives buried their noses in their newspapers. “All right, if none of ya willin’ to come clean, why aren’t you out having fun?” “Paying our overdue office rent is my idea of fun,” Babs replied. Wiggins looked confused. Guy explained, “We’re hurting. Nothing but small potatoes since retrieving our dognapped canine stars.” “We might be forced to move out, if we don’t land a decent case,” said Babs. “I’m not looking forward to setting up shop at my house.” Wiggins inhaled but choked. “You make sure you keep this place spic-and-span. If your neighbors start belly achin’…” From inside his desk, Guy took out a sardine from its wax paper wrapping and tossed it to their pelican. “Sniff…sniff… If you don’t get rid of this stench,” Wiggins continued, “my boss’ll make sure he throws you out on your arse.” She plucked a bottle of cheap toilet water from her purse and spritzed the room. “Better now?” Wiggins pointed toward the exit. “Goin’ after that mouser. Left the back door open to the alley downstairs. He’s liable to slip out and get lost forever.” Babs handed her partner a feather duster. “Do something.” Then she returned to her lair with a stack of discarded tabloids to make fresh litter and to do her own skewed interpretation of housekeeping. Guy reset their wall clock, which was a few hours behind the last time they had a power outage, and gave the reception area the minimal once-over by removing accumulated grime from the top of file cabinets. He was just about to straighten the frame displaying his private investigator’s license, when out of the side of his eye, he noticed a shadow. A large, irregular object leaned against the pebbled glass window of their front door. At first he paid it no mind and continued his cleanup crusade. When minutes passed and it hadn’t budged, he called out just above a whisper, “Do you mind coming over? Make it quick, but be quiet.” A startled canary flew out their open transom as Babs breezed toward the front. Guy pointed to the silhouetted figure. “I tidied up, like you asked, but don’t recall hearing anyone approach. This thing…it appeared out of nowhere and hasn’t moved since.” Babs called out to see if it was Wiggins, but whomever it was didn’t respond. She inquired again. “The door is open. Come on in. We’re too hot and tired for practical jokes.” With a nod, she gave Guy the go-ahead to open the door, but when he did, a young woman they’d never seen before, wearing a hat and an oversized coat despite the heatwave, fell face-forward onto the floor. “The casting office is on the fourth floor,” Babs said, until she realized the lady hadn’t moved or said a word. Horrified, she squealed and froze in place. Guy, also shaking, reached for the phone and called Wiggins’ downstairs office. His voice broke up. “Come up—pronto!” As soon as he put down the receiver, she demanded he call the cops. Without thinking, she leapt up on a wooden chair as if she’d seen a mouse. Her legs wobbled, and she continued to holler. Wiggins returned, heaving as if he had skipped waiting for the elevator and sprinted up the stairs. He had the missing tomcat draped over his shoulders. “Heard screams echoing down the hallway. You better keep better tabs on your tabbies. What the blarney did ya think was so important—Holy moly! Mary, Mother of God!” Guy poked the stranger with his feather duster. Not having any luck, Wiggins, who was bigger than the two detectives combined, got a firm toehold with his work boots and rolled her onto her back. All three stared at the stiff. “Oh, she’s dead alright,” Wiggins assured them. “Ever seen her before?” Both PIs shook their heads. Guy tiptoed around the corpse and closed the front door. Wiggins fended off their curious menagerie. “Something dark and…fea-ther-y is protruding from her coat. Like she was trying to conceal whatever she was carrying.” Babs wrinkled her nose. “Smells like she or someone else doused her with…men’s cologne. Not flowery enough to be one a lady would wear. Wiggins, how do you think she got in?” “Through the back-alley door, I suppose, ’cause I locked the front. Could’ve snuck in and been here a while. Maybe passed out in a stairwell while my back was turned and crawled up to your floor before she expired.” Guy paced the room and checked the clock. “The cops seem to be taking their time.” He pulled a flask from his file cabinet and took a swig. He offered some to Babs, but she declined. Wiggins wrested the flask out of Guy’s hand and finished it to the last drop. “Sure as hell, this would have to happen on a holiday when the police are short-staffed.” He took a swatter from off the wall and clobbered a pesky fly that landed on the stranger’s ear. Babs trembled. “She can feel it no more than if you were all doped up at the dentist,” Wiggins said. Babs commented that the police could examine the body. She wasn’t touching it. Guy suggested to Wiggins to wait for the cops downstairs. “They’ll need you to unlock the building.” Keeping his distance, Guy asked, “Babs, how do you think she died?” “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” She made it clear she wasn’t even interested in slipping on gloves to search for an ID. He suggested that this could be the lead they’ve been looking for. She didn’t see it that way. “This is no way to spend a holiday. Let the police and the medical examiner do their jobs. They’ve expressed they don’t want us meddling in their homicide cases, anyway. I just want her out of here.” Soon, they heard footsteps and the sound of crunching paper. She took for granted the cops had arrived. “Come in. It’s unlocked.” She and her partner didn’t make a move until the front door creaked open. Instead of the police, Humphrey Bogart stood there holding a parcel haphazardly wrapped in brown paper and twine. “I called twice. Assumed you had an answering service to leave a message. Dialed the right number, but someone with a peculiar voice like a Warner Brothers cartoon picked up. When I tried to explain my predicament, he mocked me and cracked a few jokes. Figured I better stop over.” “How did you get into our building?” Guy asked. “Your janitor recognized me. When I asked to see you, he figured I was harmless. He said he was waiting for—” Babs interrupted his train of thought. Still standing on the chair, she covered her eyes with one hand and pointed to the floor without making a sound. Bogie backed up. The blood drained from his face. “Whoa! Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was expecting the cops.” A black cat jumped on top of the victim and started making biscuits. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Guy bent down to throw him off. “Wh-a-a-t happened?” Bogie’s words came out choppy. Babs regained her voice, which, at first, came out in squeaks. “Not sure. What brings you here?” “I’m looking for a private investigator. You came highly recommended as some of the best private dicks in town.” Babs flushed. She preferred a more ladylike elucidation. With no further introductions needed, she ushered Bogart into her office, and Guy followed, grabbing a notepad off his desk. Even though she hated staring at the corpse, she kept her door open to keep an eye out for the police. She kept reminding herself to take deep breaths and not to panic. “Do you mind clearing your desk?” Bogie held out his parcel. “I’d like to show you what I found on my doorstep this morning.” With one fell swoop of her arm, the papers went into a spare box, which Babs said she’d sort through later. Bogart put his parcel down on her desk and fanned out his jacket. “I guess we can skip formalities when the weather beats us into submission. Mind if I take this off?” His shirt was soaked. “This has been one of those days where I’ve felt like an omelet slapped on the Devil’s griddle.” Babs identified his mysterious object as a museum replica of an ancient Egyptian canopic jar of Horus, the Hawk, the offspring of Isis and Osiris. “This is much smaller and lighter than the falcon prop in our movie. Ours is about forty-seven pounds of lead. If you dropped it, you could break someone’s toe.” Bogie lifted its lid and revealed a mummified object. Taking special care, he unwrapped its gauze, stained but far from looking ancient, to reveal a sizable dead crow. “I have no idea what this is supposed to symbolize, but now it looks like I’ve got competition from what’s in your front room as to which gives me the worst case of the heebie-jeebies,” Bogie remarked. Guy pulled the privacy shades down on the pebbled glass windows on the walls and door separating the front office from her inner sanctum. “One would presume to find a dead falcon, not a raven, considering you’re in the middle of production for The Maltese Falcon.” * * * Excerpt from Bye Bye Blackbird by Elizabeth Crowens. Copyright 2025 by Elizabeth Crowens. Reproduced with permission from Elizabeth Crowens. All rights reserved.

 

 

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About Author Elizabeth Crowens:

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Elizabeth Crowens

Elizabeth Crowens is bi-coastal between Los Angeles and New York. For over thirty years, she has worn many hats in the entertainment industry, contributed stories to Black Belt, Black Gate, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazines, Hell’s Heart, and the Bram Stoker-nominated A New York State of Fright, and has a popular Caption Contest on Facebook. Awards include: Leo B. Burstein Scholarship from the MWA-NY Chapter, New York Foundation of the Arts grant to publish the anthology New York: Give Me Your Best or Your Worst (no longer in print), Eric Hoffer Award, Glimmer Train Awards Honorable Mention, Killer Nashville Claymore Award Finalist, two Grand prize, six First prize, and multiple Finalist Chanticleer Awards. Crowens writes multi-genre alternate history and historical Hollywood mysteries.

Catch Up With Elizabeth Crowens: www.ElizabethCrowens.com Amazon Author Profile Goodreads BookBub – @ecrowens Instagram – @crowens_author LinkedIn X – @ECrowens BlueSky – @elizabethcrowens.bsky.social Facebook – @thereel.elizabeth.crowens

 

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Cars, Coffee, and a Slightly Used Casket
Julia Karr Book 2
by K.C. Hilton
Genre: Humor, Satire
 
**Recipient of the 2018 Readers’ Favorite Finalist Award!**
Our favorite car dealer is back, kicking ass and taking names, and she’s
just as fabulous as ever.
Julia Karr is a used car lot owner and she isn’t expecting an invitation to
the popularity pool. Her business is drowning with past due accounts,
difficult customers and crazy repossessions. In order to get the
vacation of her dreams, Julia makes a deal with her husband.
After catching a burglar, tackling a customer, and looking down the barrel
of a gun, it’s clear to this feisty car dealer that her vacation may
be harder to achieve than she thought. Daily chaos drives Julia to
eat more chocolate, buy more wine, and prepare for the afterlife. She
could blame it on the contractor, the cheap casket, or a naked
friend, but she’d rather blame it on the car lot.
Author C.J. Anaya — Julia Karr is the Stephanie Plum of car dealers.
Can easily be read as a standalone!
 
 
Cars, Coffee, and a Badass Ninja Toilet
Julia Karr Book 1
 
If you deal with customers day after day who drive you insane, give you
reasons to drink alcohol, or make you want to quit your job, this
book is definitely for you.
A chaotic and hilarious portrait of a used car lot owner, Julia Karr.
Her feisty attitude and fearless approach to managing a business, how
it affects her home life and dealings with customers will have you
scratching your head about humanity.
Author C.J. Anaya — Julia Karr is the Stephanie Plum of car dealers.
Cars,  Coffee, and a Badass Ninja Toilet (Julia Karr Series) by K.C. Hilton
is a great addition to books with strong female lead characters who
work hard, love their family, deal with outrageous people on a daily
basis and try to live a normal life.
Can easily be read as a standalone!
 
K.C. is a wife, mother and manages the family business. K.C.’s husband
refers to her as Hobbit size and claims that she is “nuttier than a
fruit cake.”
She owns a complete set of pink tools, believes
in aliens and secretly wants to become a badass ninja. In her spare
time, she can be found daydreaming about leaving work early to eat
chocolate and drink wine. Sometimes her dreams come true.
 
 
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For a list of my reviews go HERE.

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This is a special day. Not only will I be reviewing ZED by Stehen Herfst, he has also graciously accepted my invitation for an interview.

My review:

 

First let me give you a brief synopsis from Goodreads.

The story revolves around a teenage girl’s promise to save Zed from the human hordes.

Zed is not your typical zombie. He is cursed with the affliction of thought…although he tries to make the best of a bad situation. The goals for his unrest are simple: to improve his stride, to taste a lightly-seared pork loin once again and avoid Activists at all costs.

His life was predictable, controlled and good until chaos crashed the party. In just one day his world is destroyed and his ability to survive is tested. Would he be able to get through this in one piece? And would he somehow be able to survive the unstoppable force that goes by the name of Chase?

I am at a loss to describe how much I enjoyed this book. I did a blog post just about getting ready to review it, and then I reread it so that Zed would be fresh in my mind. So much is wanting to be said.

Imagine being the only zombie that can think. Do you belong with other zombies, or should you avoid them? You would have to wonder, why me? Why  am I the only one, and where do I belong?

Zed chooses a life of seclusion, away from zombies and humans alike. That is until one eventful night when he encounters Chase. Thrown together by chance, they stay together to survive. There is danger for a young girl in these times, especially one traveling alone. Not to mention the human horde that wants to kill and mount all zombies they come across. Maybe, if they work together, Chase and Zed can make it to a safe zone and live their lives in peace.

I am still struggling to tell you about this story. It is much more than the gratuitous zombies eating people scenes, which there are some doozies. It is also funny, like when Zed goes to the maul.  And Chase, man is she a firecracker. She provides the spark and sets this book on fire. You can not help but love her.

Let me tell you, this book is an amazing read. There are so many ups and downs, spins and teeth-clenching thrills inside. It is unlike any other zombie book you have read and you should not miss out. Get Zed and get reading. I hear there are two more books to come.

I gave this 5 STARS and then some.

Now I have a special treat for you. Today I was supposed to be interviewing Stephen Herfst. Alas, he was unable to attend, so he sent Zed in his stead.

To those of you who have not met Zed, Stephen has written a whole book about him. The book is called ZED.

Now, Zed is a zombie and we all know they don’t like to be kept waiting, so I better get to the interview. I have had to change the questions a bit to accommodate Zed, and I was told not to interject while he was commenting.

Would you prefer eating brains from a man or a woman?

Hmm…it would be relative to what I am in the mood for; the flavour of a woman’s brain is intense, sweet and decidedly complex with hidden nuances that require my full attention. A man’s brain is musky, with a strong flavour that underlies the overall demeanor of the host. Of course, certain nationalities would result in some differences, for example, Italians/Spanish are prone to irrational bursts of flavour.

Could you describe what brains taste like?

First of all, the texture deserves some focus: a combination I would best describe as between broiled cauliflower and pate. A pert outer-shell that gives way to a smooth creamy centre. The flavour of the brain is subtle, and its most basic flavour tastes similar to pureed fatty chicken bathed in a brine of embryonic fluid. The flavour is also influenced by the hosts’ diet, with a wine-favouring host being the most delectable. I do like a good red wine marinade.

Would you date another zombie?

If the right female zombie came along…maybe. I take a pride in my appearance and so my partner would need to follow suit. There is a certain predictability to the female of my species, and so, they simply require no more than the offering of some human flesh to win their heart. It is true what they say about the way to one’s heart.

Do you want to remember who you were before?

It does irritate that the information does not come to me. All of my knowledge I have gained since my rebirth. Sometimes something triggers what might be a glimpse into what I think is the past. I am not sure but I have time so, when it happens, it will be one more thing that I can tick off my list.

What pet would you prefer?

I already have many pets. My books are house-trained, silent and speak to me when prompted and they can be silenced just as easily.

Do you floss?

Yes. Personal hygiene is important. I certainly would not want to suffer from gingivitis(or gum-disease)- certainly  do not want to exacerbate any additional flesh rot.

Where would you like to live?

Wherever I can be left to my own devices. Humans are a troublesome horde, always wanting to kill me, mount me, or worse, rescue me. It irritates me that they would somehow think my present situation would require rescuing.

If you were like most zombies that can only mutter brains and could say something else, what would you say?

I have to admit, I do use the classic call of brains when enticing my antagonists into one of my traps. I believe it is best to play to expectation until their realisation comes too late. Alternatively, I prefer saying nothing. Why would you want your prey knowing ahead of time of their impending doom, anyway?

Now, I think I have answered more than enough questions. It is a good thing that I am in a good mood(and do not have my Zombie Kit with me). You caught me at a moment of weakness…and I do not like it. Now be off before I find reason to change my mind…zombies are known for that, after all.

Well, I beat a hasty exit, glad to still be one piece. My thanks to Zed for being so obliging and to Stephen for allowing this interview.

Since Stephen could not make it today, here is a little bit about him.

If I had to define myself in a few words, it would be:

“Reserved, outgoing, thinking, reflective, driven, lazy, observant, competitive, confident, doubtful.”

Depending on my mood, the topic and the people around me, I can be many things. When I began life I wanted to be a programmer but now I just want to be independent. I am always open to trying new things and have always made it a habit of doing things I haven’t done before.

I was born in Germany, from Dutch-South African descent and live in Australia although I’m currently working in California and my family lives in Malaysia. I don’t believe that I can define one country as my home and hope to travel the rest of my life.

I am a Software Engineer by trade but have always loved books. During my early years I would read 5-10 books every two weeks and have always had a fertile imagination. My world was novels but in later years I find it harder to spare the time. I have always had side projects along-side my formal work and have always wanted to write but haven’t found a topic that has interested me until now.

I released my first novel on February 18. It took one month to write, followed by three months of editing. I am proud of this novel, although I am not yet finished. I have two more novels to write in this series, as well as a number of pet projects in the works that I feel “have legs”.

My hobbies include Tennis, Squash, Texas Hold’em, Restaurants(yes, that’s a hobby), watching good movies and reading good books.

I am staying tuned for more about Zed and am curious about those “legs”.

For a prologue of Zed you can go here: http://wp.me/p27ipo-68

You can find Stephen here: http://stephenherfst.blogspot.com

To purchase ZED just click on the cover image at beginning of the post.