Moving Day, mofos!

As you no doubt heard already, we (I use the royal "we" because it seems to make people pay attention to me) have been in the processing of setting up a new website for myself, Sam Sykes, author and noted reverse-philanthropist.

Said site is now complete and it is a thing of beauty. It will probably destroy you entirely if you look too closely at it. It's thick, dark and beautiful, like a jungle panther or Bill Cosby. All we need to do now is launch it.

What does this mean for you, gentle reader?

First of all, it means that all future blog posts will be seen at: www.samsykes.com (hopefully within a day of your reading this post).

And, of course, it means that this is the last post that will occur on samsykes.blogspot.com. We're moving to Wordpress now, which is the wave of the future that will carry us into the age where advances in science grant us cures for diseases and cybernetic testes.

So, for all of those who have kept up with my insanity, inanity and filthy nepotism, thank you. I sincerely hope you will continue following my thoughts onto the new site and well into the point when you suddenly realize you've been spending a lot of time reading my blog and you should probably go outside or maybe see your loved ones because they miss you so much but you can't leave now because you're too deeply invested in my thought process and are forced to watch as time and the ravages of humanity slowly take their inexorable toll upon me and I slither down a long and slippery slope into senile dementia and by that point my blogs are all basically versions of "you know what I really like? Ham, ham is what I really like" and a strange cocktail of nostalgia, desire and emptiness will make you realize I'm not the same author that you fell in love with and you see me now as an empty husk and whenever I open my mouth you only hear screaming and so to save my brain the dignity it affords you sneak into my house and smother me with a Japanese body pillow and go to jail satisfied that you are a martyr for the cause.

...yeah...that'd be great.

See you soon!
-Sam Sykes

Interview of the Damned II: Moher's Revenge: The Sam Sykes Story

No doubt, if you're reading this, you're probably at least a little familiar with my blog and the concept of blogging in general. For those of you who are uninformed: the "Blog-o-Sphere" is sort of a mass, voluntary incarceration program, similar to Twitter and Facebook, in which the socially maladjusted and criminally depraved willingly glue themselves to their computers in exchange for mass amounts of information.

Usually, this is a dark and wicked place, a Hell of our own creation in which we plumb the bleak depths in search of a festering nugget of information that we eagerly suck dry to fulfill our spiritual needs. It is a foul place. It is a gloomy place. And you are no doubt just as thrilled to be a part of it as I am.

In the ninth circle of the sphere, the level reserved for fantasy writers, fantasy readers, fantasy bloggers and Abe Vigoda fans, a vile court holds council. And in this foul and loathsome court, Aidan Moher is king...

...actually, maybe closer to an earl. No, wait, that has some bizarre lineal rules to it. At the very least, he's a mayor...possibly an owner of a quaint little bed and breakfast...OF THE DAMNED.

A Dribble of Ink was one of the blogs I followed quite voraciously, even before Aidan gave me the excellent opportunity to be interviewed on it. I can't say my opinion of the blog has gotten any grimmer now that I'm a featured part of it. Though some may suggest that my presence will lower the property values.

But why not decide for yourself? Hop on over to A Dribble of Ink and have a look at this fantastic interview!

Wait, what are you still doing here? Do you require a highlight to tantalize you?

Normally I stay away from the tell-us-about-your-book-because-I’m-too-lazy-to-do-the-research-myself-and-can’t-think-of-any-other-good-questions-to-fill-out-this-interview questions, but since you’re a new author, why don’t you tell us a bit about your first novel, Tome of the Undergates that can’t be found in the synopsis I’ve included above?
It’s actually a surprisingly philosophical book. Not the overt, beard-stroking, “what is a chestnut” kind of philosophy, but the sort that delves deep into the psyche of people without being boring. It takes the standard idea of the adventurer in fantasy and asks the questions that are presumed to be answered in the genre: what drives someone to become an adventurer, who is largely presumed to be a graverobber, thief and unprofessional assassin? Would a group composed of many different races, religions and professions really get along so well as to perform a quest? How can they presume a benevolent deity is on their side when they continue to suffer and die? How can they presume that they are in the right when they continue to cause others to suffer and die?

Beyond this, the book is really about the six companions and what motivates them: racial agendas and what happens when one feels compelled to violate them, atonement through murder, what really goes through the mind of the last of a particular race (hint: it’s not pleasant). Basically, TOME takes a lot of the things you might be familiar with and starts sodomizing them in front of you.

Also, there is a scene in which a man gets his crotch stomped into pulp. This is in the first fifty pages or so. They would not tell you about that in a synopsis, friends!

Mmm...tantalizing, isn't it? Almost sinfully so. I can see you trembling, wanting to know more about this interview, this blog and its terrible machinist. Go ahead...indulge...the time wasted there is better than the time I wasted writing my Urban Fantasy novel (Balls Deep: A Denise Asspuncher Mystery, coming in 2011 from Gollancz).

Truly, though, the interview was an utter delight and I'm pleased that my very first interview as an author came from a site as big and informative as A Dribble of Ink.

Brief aside: Jeremiah Tolbert of Clockpunk Studios almost has our new site up! Watch this space for details. I'm really pleased with what I've seen so far (it has an RSS Feed button! An RSS Feed button that is DROWNING!)

Darksiders

There's no shortage of authors out there who will eagerly claim that games (usually role-playing games) influenced them and their work greatly. Frequently, if you're too old to remember what to do with wooden nickels (don't take them!), it's Dungeons and Dragons that you cut your teeth on. But video games account for a lot these days, too.

With greatly unabashed sincerity, I say that video games influence my work more than is probably wise to admit to for a man hoping to be taken seriously. One, in particular, really had a lot to do with my adoration of secondary worlds, heroic adventures and putting pointy things into other fleshy things.

The Legend of Zelda.

For those of you who don't know, Zelda is pretty much the same game over and over: mute, pointy-eared hero embarks on quest to gather a variety of tools to defeat glowering, coal-skinned villain and save talkative, pointy-eared princess. This is done through a variety of interesting dungeons, giant monsters and occasionally, an entirely different universe.

This was the first game I played for my Super Nintendo back when I was 11 and I went absolutely nuts for it. I loved everything from the dungeon-delving to the puzzles to the very, very understated relationship between Link and Zelda (it's very hard to convey romance with a guy who does not utter a single word). Ever since then, I've wasted countless hours of my life on Zelda games: Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, Wind Waker and especially Twilight Princess.

Thus, when I heard of a post-Biblical apocalypse Zelda-themed dungeon adventure game by the name of "Darksiders," I was pretty ecstatic. I checked it out pretty thoroughly: giant monsters, gathered weapons, puzzles, dungeons and exploration of a vast and alien world.

By all rights, I should have liked this game.

As it is...it's alright.

Let's start with the gameplay: pretty good, actually. You get a variety of weapons to kill your enemies and get some nice God of War-style finishers to finish off wounded enemies (though there isn't actually a point to most of them, since killing them by a finisher or just beating them up gives you the same amount of "souls" or currency). You fight through dungeons, solve puzzles and explore an Earth that was ruined when the Apocalypse began prematurely, leaving all humanity zombie food for various demons.

And therein is the problem: there is no humanity to this game.

The story, on the surface, is kind of cool: you are War, a Horseman of the Apocalypse and servant of the Charred Council, a legislative body of omnipotent beings created to govern the war between Heaven and Hell. You were called to Earth before the Apocalypse was supposed to begin and found the war reignited. A century later, mankind is toast, angels and demons use Earth as a battlefield and you're sent to make things right.

...how? By killing a Destroyer, apparently. This is where my problems fire up.

War is a giant, muscle-bound, long-haired, violent, killing machine. His enemies are various amalgamations of fire, spikes and claws. His allies are supernatural beings that are chiefly concerned with his duty. His duty is to restore the Balance between Heaven and Hell.

And I really don't give a shit.

Because there's nothing really at stake here for me. There are no humans left, so War has nothing to really save. The Earth is already destroyed, so he can't really restore dick. War feels no fear, no pain, no sadness, so I can't really relate to him. The Destroyer is cloaked in shadow and there's no doubt that he's the enemy, so everything I'm doing is just to get closer to him and...that's it?

This game had almost everything I wanted in a Zelda game. It had tools, giant monsters, lots of fun exploration and a bunch of crazy crap happening. But it lacked one thing: vigor.

Zelda games are, without a doubt, brimming with character. The environments are unique and interesting, the characters are wild and entertaining, the boss battles are epic and Link is instantly relatable, since he's a tiny dude fighting a big, BIG challenge (for what reason, though? Because Zelda told him to so he could prop up her monarchy? I may have to write a manifesto on this later, but that's beside the point).

Darksiders has character, but it's just...eh. The environments are desolate and largely interchangeable (dust here, fire there, spikes here). The characters are entertaining, but not really likeable (demon merchants, demon princes and Mark Hammill). The boss battles are epic (but why wouldn't they be?) And War is not at all relateable because it's very, very hard to feel sympathy for a Horseman of the Goddamn Apocalypse.

They both have character. But while Zelda is the bright, cheery kid who occasionally has fits of rage where he goes around hitting chickens with a stick, Darksiders is the gloomy kid who smells like french fries and never talks to you unless he wants to show you his collection of trout skulls.

In short: fun, but not "go nuts" fun. Try it if you're hard up for Zelda or you just really like whacking zombies with parking meters.

Biiiiiig Wiiiinneeeer!

Bum-bum bum-bum bum-bum bum bum.

...that...that was meant to sound like a drum announcing the winners, not me just saying a synonym for a posterior over and over. Though, if you'd all like to talk about butts for a few hours, we certainly can. I'm something of an aficionado, you see, a relative connoisseur of cans, an admirer of asses, a--

...right, moving on.

First of all, thank you to everyone who entered in my fabulous ARC giveaway! It was a blast for me to run and, even though you all didn't win, it was an immense amount of fun to get your guesses and responses. Shall we take a look at some of them and see what some of my favorites are? I put away the names of all except the winners, because I'm not sure who would like their privacy protected and who is in fact a demon waiting for their true name to be uttered so they can come into the surface world and wreak terrible vengeance.

Here's a pretty good one to start us off:

Dear Sam,

You made no mistakes.

D'aww, thanks! Let's see if this trend continues...

Hi,

My guess is you made 4 mistakes.

Well, that's also pretty optimistic! Who else is so generous, I wonder...

I'd like to wager a guess and say 14 mistakes. Any more and the book is fluff any less and you're mister perfect and my low sense of self esteem will not let me read the book, so the answer better be 14.

Fluff?! Mister Perfect?! Why, I never! This trend of--

My guess is 33 mistakes. This isn’t a guess based on your skills as a writer/editor, just a lucky number. No offense. I wouldn’t want you to have start a new list: fans I have tried to defeat in hand-to-hand combat.

Wait! I wasn't done yelling at the last guy! Hold on, are you suggesting I couldn't defeat you in hand-to-hand combat, sir?!

I am from England, I have pre-ordered 3 copies from Amazon Uk and USA!
I cannot wait for the release of your much hyped and I am sure worthy publication.
To recieve a personally signed Arc would be heaven, so here goes.
I believe you have made : 45 mistakes!
Sorry I hope that Isn't too Insulting!

Well, thank you very much! I mean, that isn't too insulting, considering the utter niceness with which it was spoken, even though that is the biggest guess so f--

Oh dear god,

I cannot estimate the number of mistakes you have left on your proof copy. God knows it's not the fault of your long-suffering editor or the Colossus of Prose, your copy editor, whose name will echo in praise throughout the halls of Olympus and the hills of Valhalla, or possibly the hells of the tome of the undergnome, or some shit.

Although my guess is as good as that of a drunken boar, the apollonic oracle suggests that your your actual answer is 72. Hide your head in shame, sir. The wheel rolls five ways AT LEAST.

Okay, now I am BE ANGEROUS NOW. Wheels rolling five ways?! Colossi of Prose? Undergnomes? SEVENTY-TWO!? These are getting a little extreme, perhaps we ought to stop and take a--

YOU'VE MADE 31 MISTAKES YOU FAILURE

NOW SEE HERE!

Okay...okay, I'm cool. I'm cool. Just...we're all pretty good that everyone was here to hold me back, right? Or I'd just be going CRAZY right now! Painting walls with blood! Baking fudge with ASS! I'MMA MAKE YOU EAT AN ASS SANDWICH! AAAARRRHGGHGHGBGLLGGHG...

...what? Oh, right! The number of mistakes!

The actual number was Forty (40) Mistakes (cock-ups). Surprisingly generous, actually, but maybe I'm just that slick? It is indeed possible. So, let's discuss the winning entries.

There were three, of course (their names have been withheld so someone doesn't go mug them for their ARCs), and they have already been notified! Their guesses?

37.
42.
42.

Seems like everyone should have paid a little more attention to Douglas Adams, no? He might have been onto something.

Anyway, everyone, I truly and sincerely thank you for your interest in this contest. I am likewise truly and sincerely thankful you weren't in my house when I opened my inbox and saw so many entries and promptly squealed with excitement. Trust me, the sound would have lingered inside your brain and eventually driven you mad. You have no idea how pleased I am that so many people took an interest in my book.

To that end, I will eagerly invite everyone (save the winners, naturally), to participate in the months before September in trying again! Yes, hopefully, we will be able to run another ARC competition for the North American editions! It's gon' be a hot wing doused in two parts awesomesauce, three parts boss-sauce, and YOU WILL EAT IT.

Watch this space for details!

And thank you, one and all, for participating in this contest.

To my UK guessers: I will actually be in London for Eastercon, it looks like, and the launch of my book. If you are there to see it, please don't hesitate to come up to me and tell me you were involved in the contest. In exchange, I will give you one (1) free hug.

...I charge ten bucks for them, normally, because I know people are copping a feel.

Thanks again, my friends!

Changes! Promotions! SIGN RIGHT THE HECK UP!

First of all, why don't you pull up a chair and have a gander at this fine piece of literature?

Yes, it's one of our first reviews! And what's more, it's good! Robert Grant, author, owner, operator of Disgruntled Writer, is a mighty fine blogger and his site is chock full of stuff for the discerning reader and future writer! Also, he has exquisite taste! Let's see what he said about Tome of the Undergates, shall we?

I enjoyed reading Tome of the Undergates from the first page, Sam Sykes writes with real poetry in places and he has a knack for constructing sentences with rhythm and tempo that make the reading fun and the story flow. The characters are nicely drawn with quite distinct voices and despite the story taking place in basically two locations he has a created the beginnings of a world which hangs together pretty well while being populated by different races, religions and colours. The action too comes thick and fast and the pace doesn’t let up much for its 600-odd page length. Every battle is bloody and brutal and if you like your violence with no-holds barred then you’ll be in hog heaven reading this.

Poetry! Flow! Thick! Fast! Bloody! Brutal! Hog Heaven!

All words used to describe me by my editors and ex-girlfriends alike! And here they are being used to describe my book! Be sure to read the whole review and many more throughout his site!

So, anyway, guess what! I'm GETTING A GODDAMN WEBSITE! Yes, finally, more than just a construction page! Jeremiah Tolbert of Clockpunk Studios has very graciously accepted me into his clientele list. You can see a good representation of his work on his site and on the site of Blake Charlton, author of the-sure-to-be-fine-ass Spellwright and part-time mob informant. Consequently, I may have just outed him and condemned him to wearing cement shoes.

I should probably delete that...probably...hmm...

But, anyway!

What does this website business mean for you? Well, this particular blog will probably be disappearing/moving sometime soon (just as well, I can't fix the goddamn twitter feed to the right), but we'll do our best to transplant the blogs written so far. So, in the future, please check out all our stuff at www.samsykes.com. It will BLOW YOUR MIND.

Hm? What's that?

Oh, right. You're wondering if this will affect the contest going on. The answer: nope! The winners will still be announced January 13th! That's also the day after the last possible day to turn in your entry! Why not read the entry and see if you'd like to participate?

As a note to all who've entered so far: yes, I've seen them all! I haven't actually responded yet because that seems like it would be quite time-consuming and, by the end, I'd be so irritated that my response would just be pictures from the Polar Bears Club.

So, do check this stuff out and watch this space for future website developments! We'll give you notice before the whole thing goes live so you can keep yourself attached to me and my thoughts, the writhing lamprey to my pale white nurse shark.

Agony Column: Lou Anders <3s Sam Sykes

Hey! HEY!

It's 2010! A lot of lists for favorite books of the year, favorite publishers for the year, favorite Indian restaurants for the year (Punjab or G.T.F.O., yo), but a lot of people seem to be forgetting that 2010 means that it's actually the end of a decade. And while any jerk can be an "Editor of the Year..."

Only one can be Editor of the Goddamn Decade.

Naturally, it's pretty clear that anyone who is in close contact with me is destined for greatness and Lou Anders is no exception. What's that you say? He had a lot of good books before me? That's simply deranged, sir. I have spent a long time convincing myself that I'm the greatest person on earth and I'll be damned if I let you ruin that.

But let's move away from that for awhile. Lou has recently done a podcast for Bookotron.com in which he discusses the trends in fantasy, the near future of SF/F, eBooks and a certain Tome coming out in the near future.

Go ahead and have a listen, why don't you?

Go ahead, I'll wait.

...

Did you hear that?

The Second Coming of Joe Abercrombie. I didn't even know he was dead! I hope he went peacefully and didn't mess himself when he finally went down. What? Yes, there was a lot of other interesting stuff in that podcast, too, but COME ON, MAN.

Anyway, it's an excellent way to ring in the New Year's with my editor having secured such furious honors and having such great publicity is probably the best holiday present I could have gotten from him.

Happy New Year!

I was this close to posting a drunken blog last night. We are all quite fortunate that I couldn't figure out how to work it enough to post my list of authors I have defeated in hand-to-hand combat...

...so that I could post it here today.

• David Devereux
• Alex Bell
• Joe Abercrombie
• Tom Lloyd
• M.D. Lachlan

You might notice that those are all authors on my own publishing house. You might conclude that I am doing this out of fear of legal or physical or fecal retribution. I assure you, though, I'm not at all above threatening people from other publishers.

Mark C. Newton. Watch your goddamn back.

Anyway, what are your New Year's Resolutions? Mine is to stop googling my own name. Not only is it shallow, vain and nerve-wracking, but it might also lead to the other people who share my name and it irritates me to no end that they didn't do as I asked them and changed their names to combination African and Polish names. Shambali Hoedekker, I am looking at you.

I don't care if those names are accurate or not. This is my blog. MY BLOG.

So, 2010 is going to be a big year! Probably because Tome of the Undergates is a tantalizing four months away (if you're in Britain; nine if you live in the US or Netherlands). Can you wait that long? Dare you wait that long? Are you possessed of the urge to light a candle in front of its Amazon page and quietly confess in sobbing tones your love for its masculine cover, its enduring thickness, its BRIMMING gore, action, vengeance, romance and philosophical undertones?

You can't?

Oh...well...uh...

Hey! Instead of stalking and murdering me, my editors or one of the authors/bloggers in possession of an ARC (if you do choose this route, though, go for Lachlan, I'm sick of that smug lupine writer; also, he's small), why not just read THIS BOLD-ASS POST and see if your estimations of my abilities are enough to get yourself a free ARC!

Deadline is January 13th! We've got plenty of guesses (most of them very gracious) but we could use more!

Resolve to enter, read and swear your undying devotion to me!

Also, do not send me nudes. They're very charming, but I can't appear biased.

Happy New Year's!

Edit: It would probably help to include the link to the actual contest. Good lawd.

Holidays May Be Rough, But...

At least you're not that guy!

That's Otis, usually quite jovial, in a rare state of Christmas Scarf Blues. His suffering is your gingerbread cookie.

You wouldn't think blogging would be hard, would you? It's really just writing down your thoughts as you go along. Given that most of the time I voice my thoughts, the typical reaction is a fervent call to the police, though, keeping a sanitary and scheduled series of updates can be pretty irritating.

Especially around the holidays.

Christmas is over, but New Year's is about to begin. Thereafter, as the publishing world begins creeping out of its self-induced Thanksgiving coma, shit gets real. Editors spring to life with new and vengeful vigor. Publicists doll themselves up. And authors? Authors try desperately to keep their deadlines and continue to roll their faces on their keyboards.

Speaking of which, have you seen the contest we're running? Check the blog post right beneath this one for details! Plenty of entries (and severe doubts of my abilities) are rolling in every day! Be sure to add your name to the ARC Giveaway (details here) and see if you can guess how incompetent I am!

Anyway, there's a lot of stuff happening in the post-Christmas/pre-New Year frenzies. Namely, a lot of cool and attractive bloggers are posting their "Favorite Books of '09" lists! The ones I'm following most obsessively: James "The Predator" Long's Speculative Horizons, Adam "Juice" Whitehead's The Wertzone, Patrick "Nobody Remembers My Last Name" of Pat's Fantasy Hotlist, Aidan "Hossmaster" Moher's A Dribble of Ink, and Graeme "Killa B" Flory's Graeme's Fantasy Book Review.

I gave them nicknames to make them sound cooler, but it's a little redundant. Also, remember to check out The Book Smugglers, run by the Gruesome Twosome: Ana and Thea. They tend to produce some pretty quality stuff, with the occasional piece of crap.

Anyway, what did you get for your chosen holiday gift-giving extravaganza? Fruitcake? Toys? Video games? Dignity? Self-respect? Insolence?

You'll never use any of that! How about a present you can actually enjoy, like an excerpt from Tome of the Undergates? I already posted one on The Book Smugglers, but here's another one, to see if it tickles your fancy or any other part of you that I shouldn't be touching. Hope you enjoy and have a happy New Year!

‘No.’

The voice began as a mutter, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind. It echoed, singing through his skull, reverberating through his head. His temples throbbed, as though the voice left angry dents each time it rebounded against his skull. Kataria shifted before him, going from sharp and angry to hazy and indistinct. The earth under his feet felt softer, yielding, as though it feared to stand against him.

The voice, however, remained tangible in its clarity.

‘No more time,’ it uttered, ‘no more talk.’

‘More time to what, you fart-sniffer?’ Kataria was hopping from foot to foot, fingers twitching, though before Lenk’s eyes she resembled nothing so much as a shifting blob. ‘Not so brave now?’

‘I . . .’ he began to utter, but his throat tightened, choking him.

‘You what?’

‘Nothing to say,’ the voice murmured, ‘no more time.’
‘What,’ he whispered, ‘is it time for?’

‘What the hell does that mean?’ If she looked at him oddly, he did not see. Her eyes faded into the indistinct blob that she had become. ‘Lenk . . . are you—’

‘Time,’ the voice uttered, ‘to kill.’

‘I’m not—’

‘Kill,’ it repeated.

‘Not what?’

‘Kill.’

‘I can’t—’ he whimpered.

‘No choice.’

‘Shut up,’ he tried to snarl, but his voice was weak and small. ‘Shut up!’

‘Kill.’

‘Lenk . . .’ Kataria’s voice began to fade.

‘KILL!’

‘SHUT UP!’

When he had fallen, he could not remember, nor did he know precisely when he had closed his eyes and clamped his hands over his ears, lying twitching upon the earth like a crushed cockroach. When he opened his eyes once more, the world was restored: the ground was solid beneath him, his head no longer ached and he stared up into a pair of eyes, hard and sharp as emeralds.

‘It happened again, didn’t it?’ she asked, kneeling over him. ‘What happened on the Riptide . . . happened again.’

His neck felt stiff when he nodded.

‘Don’t you see, Lenk?’ Her whisper was delicate, soothing. ‘This isn’t going to stop. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happening to you.’

‘I can’t.’ His whisper was more fragile, a vocal glass pane cracking at the edges. ‘I . . . don’t even know myself.’

‘You can’t even try?’ She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder; he saw her wince at the contact. ‘For your sake, Lenk? For mine?’

‘I . . . don’t . . .’

His voice trailed off into nothingness, punctuated by the harsh narrowing of her eyes. She rose, not swiftly as she usually did, but with all the creaking exhaustion of an elder, far too tired of life. She stared down at him with pity flashing in her eyes once more; he had nowhere to turn to.

‘Then don’t,’ she replied sternly. ‘Lie here . . . and don’t.’

He felt he should urge himself to get up as he heard her boots crunch upon the earth. He felt he should scream at himself to follow her as he heard her slip through the foliage with barely a rustle. He felt he should rise, run screaming after her, tell her everything he needed to until his tongue dried up and fell out of his head.

For all that, he lay on the earth and did not move. For all the commands he knew he should give himself, he could hear but one voice.

‘Weak.’

His head seared for a moment, then grew cold with a dull ache that gripped his brain in icy fingers. His mind grew colder with every echo, the chill creeping into the back of his eyes, down his throat, into his nose until the sun ceased to have warmth. Breathing became a chore, movement an impossibility, death . . . an appealing consideration.

He closed his eyes, allowing the world to fade away into echoes as the sound, too, faded into nothingness. There was nothing to the world any more, no life, no pain, no sound.

No sound.

He opened his eyes as the realisation came upon him: there was no birdsong, no buzzing of insects.

The prey had stopped making noise.

Cold was banished in a sudden sear of panic. He scrambled to his feet, reaching for his sword, sweeping his gaze about the jungle. Any one of the trees could be the demon, watching him with stark white eyes, talons twitching and ready to smother his head in ooze before eating it.

The only things he saw, however, were shadows and leaves. The only thing he heard was the pounding of his own heart.

‘Help.’

The silence was shattered by a faint, quivering voice. It was little more than a whisper, barely audible over the hush of the wind, but it filled Lenk’s ears and refused to leave.

‘Help me.’

He could hear it more clearly now, recognising it. He had heard more than enough dying men to know what one sounded like. For all the clarity of the voice, he could spy no man to go with it, however. Slowly, he eased his gaze across the trees once more and found nothing in the thick gloom.

‘Please,’ the man whimpered, ‘don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.’

There was silence for but a moment.

‘DON’T KILL ME!’

His eyes followed his ears, sweeping up into the canopy, narrowing upon the white smear in the darkness, improbably pristine. From above, a pair of bleary grey eyes atop a bulbous, beak-like nose stared back, unblinking and brimming with fat, salty tears.

I should run, he thought, the Abysmyth is likely right behind this thing.

‘No.’ The voice’s reply was slow and grating. ‘It dies.’

‘It dies,’ Lenk echoed.

The Omen’s teeth chattered quietly, yellow spikes rattling off each other. Lenk’s ear twitched at the sound of wet meat being slivered. Narrowing his eyes, he spied the single, severed finger ensconced between the creature’s teeth, shredded further into glistening meat with every chatter of its jaws.

‘There are others here.’ Lenk’s voice sounded distant and faint in his own ears, as though he spoke through fog to someone shrouded and invisible. ‘Should we help them?’

‘Irrelevant,’ the voice replied. ‘Men can die. Demons must die.’

‘Right.’

The Omen shuffled across the branch, tilting its wrinkled head in an attempt to comprehend. Lenk remained tense, not deceived by the facade of animal innocence. As if sensing this, it tightened its broad mouth into a needle-toothed smile, the severed digit vanishing down its throat with a crunching sound.

It ruffled its feathers once, stretched its head up like a cock preparing to crow and opened its mouth.

‘Gods help me!’ A man’s voice, whetted with terror, echoed through its gaping mouth. ‘Someone! Anyone! HELP ME!’

The mimicked plea reverberated through his flesh. His arm tensed, sliding his sword out of its sheath. Like a dog eager to play, the Omen ruffled its feathers, turned about and hopped into the dense foliage of the canopy.

‘It wants help,’ Lenk muttered, watching the white blob vanish into the green.

‘Then we shall help it.’

His legs were numb under his body, moving effortlessly against the earth, sword suddenly so very light in a hand he could no longer feel. He thought he ought to be worried about that, as he suspected he should be worried about following a demonic parasite into the depths of the foliage. He had no ears for those concerns, however.

The ringing cry of the dying man hung from every branch he crept under.

Make me look stupid and win an ARC!

It is true that people love giveaways. Several great nations have been founded on the very concept, with "giveaways" being the number two reason behind national identity behind "What Independence Means to Me" essays.

It is also true that the only thing that people love more than giveaways is making other people depressed. And here, my friends, is an insider secret: no tears are thicker or sweeter than those of authors. They are bottled to make perfume, slathered on like fine oils and if you need a quick burst of energy, just licking them straight off the cheek of an author whose received a bad review, well...there's just nothing like it. I, too, indulge in this practice, having long committed an anonymous, passive-aggressive hatemail campaign against fellow Gollancz author Alex Bell while masquerading under the guise of Jericho Mtumbe, Zimbabwean Mormon attorney.

But enough about my pending lawsuits. The purpose of this blog is to provide you with both a giveaway and an opportunity to make me look dumb, with the arrival of Mr. Sykes' Fantasmagorical Extraoracle Stupidifferic Betting Contest!

You see, just yesterday, I received the final proofs for Tome of the Undergates. Some of you may be familiar with the editing process already, but let me enlighten those of you who aren't.

Step 1: Line editing. This is basically the "meat" of the process, in which the editor who proclaimed to like your book enough to buy it now proceeds to point out how stupid you were when you wrote it. I kid, of course, they don't actually use words as nice as "stupid." Rather, they go line by line and find what works and what doesn't. This is where plot holes are filled, characters are refined, and sweeping changes are made. Frequently, this happens more than once! But when it's done, you go to...

Step 2: Copy editing. This is where a copy-editor, a fine man or woman in the employ of your publisher, goes balls-deep into your writing and starts picking out the sentence fragments, poor word choices, illogical fallacies and just general stupidity. This is also the point where authors and editors both look the most foolish. How foolish, you might ask? As an example: throughout the many, many read-throughs my editor and I did of Tome, neither of us realized that wheel could only spin two ways and it took a copy-editor to catch it. Once they're done with that, though, you reach this part...

Step 3: Final editing. This is basically where it's your last possible chance to change anything at all. This is also when you go the most nuts, because there's a lot to change and you can, usually, only change less than 10% or you wind up having to pay for it.

My friends, it is in this moment, this Final Edit, that Tome of the Undergates finds itself and we find ourselves in a contest of excellent portents.

The Lowdown: We have three (3, III), Advanced Reading Copies (ARCs) to give away (bribe) to those interested. The contest is pretty simple, in that it only has one rule.

Guess How Many Mistakes I've Made: You read it correctly! All you have to do is guess how many mistakes I've missed through the editing and, if you're closest to the actual number, you could win one of these fine-ass ARCs!

The Nitty: The book is close to 600 pages long and we can't make more than 10% of an actual change to it, so that would put your odds of finding a mistake at about between 1 and 60? Sounds right, right? So, make your best guess, based on how well you know me or my editor (if you don't know either of us, remember the wheel story).

The Gritty: So, once you've made your guess please send an email (FROM AN ADDRESS YOU CHECK FREQUENTLY; NO THROWAWAY ACCOUNTS, PLEASE) to sam.sykes66@gmail.com with your guess! Corrections are due back by January 13th, so you have until midnight (Arizona time, my time; eff all y'all in other, lamer time zones) on that day to turn in your guess! If you win, we'll send you an email asking for your shipping address and slap it on out to you, personally signed and possibly with an insulting message inside!

WHAT A GREAT GODDAMN CONTEST! GUESS NOW, YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE PEOPLE! FEED OFF MY MISERY! PROFIT FROM MY AGONY!

Love,
Sam

xoxoxox

Let's Talk Video Games

It's probably not too hard to believe that a lot of authors are also avid video gamers. Why, Richard Morgan has recently been hired to write plots for video games with (I think) EA? Someday, I, too, may ascend to such a lofty position. For the moment, though, I must be content to merely play them and talk about them.

I suspect, too, that if you're interested in my book, you might also be a fan of video games. To that end, you might find this post, detailing the best of 2009 and the most anticipated of 2010 to be handy.

Without further ado...

God of War Collection

I'm using Amazon for this because I can't find a homepage. Anyway, it may come as a less than shocking confirmation or a horrific surprise that I am a colossal God of War fan. I played both obsessively on the PS2 and, on the PS3, my lust for blood and quicktime events has been rekindled (largely because my PS2 died ages ago).

The gist of the game(s) is as follows: Kratos is a man who is not nice. He sold his soul to Ares, the ancient Greek god of war, in exchange for power. When he decided that this was too much to pay, he went on a rampage across Greece, slaughtering minotaurs, gorgons, skeletons and basically everything out of Clash of the Titans. In God of War 2, he decided that it wasn't the best idea to stop with Ares and swiftly declared war on the rest of the Pantheon.

What I really love about this game, beyond the fact that you can headbutt a minotaur, drive a pair of blades in his open mouth and rip his jaws apart, is the sheer lack of apology and bravado with which Kratos is depicted as a warrior. Yes, he rips off heads. Yes, he rips the eyeballs out of cyclopes. Yes, he impales giant hydra. But that's just what he does.

Did you never play God of War? You might wonder if you are a bad person for not doing so. It's not up to me to pass judgment (but yes, you are awful, play it now).

Dragon Age: Origins

Bioware is a company renowned for awesome RPGs, most of which involving wizards, goblins and the occasional cameo by a Forgotten Realms character. If you played Mass Effect, you're probably aware that they've moved onto somewhat more original and independent project. DA:O is their second project, returning to traditional fantasy roots.

It's labeled a "dark fantasy," and the most I can guess is that this means "there is a lot of blood and some of your group members are a-holes." There's a lot of the old fantasy tropes: elves, mages, dwarves, orcs. But they're done in a very interesting way: elves are second-rate citizens or angry xenophobes, mages are dangerous thrill-seekers, dwarves are underground Hindus, orcs are called something else entirely are born FROM A FOUR-BREASTED ABOMINATION WITH TENTACLES.

It's quite fun, all in all. The story is a little predictable (tell me if you can't spot the treasons coming), but that's not a bad thing, necessarily. The writing and dialogue is top-notch and the combat is very fun, being both great for those who enjoy a seat-of-the-pants playstyle and those who prefer a more tactical approach.

Batman: Arkham Asylum

This is easily my choice for Game of the Year. I can't say enough good things about this game (and this is coming from a man who knows next to nothing about the Batman universe).

The best thing I can say about it is that this is the only game I've seen in awhile that actually invents and brings together an entirely new style of gameplay, namely, predatory. Stealth games aren't new at all, it's true, but to call AA a stealth gameplay would be an understatement that would probably make me deck you. The sheer variety of tools, techniques and abilities with which you have to hunt and take down your enemies is mind-boggling. You have a lot of great methods, it's true, but none are so powerful that they overrule the use of others or make the situations any less tense. The fast, fluid combat is just a bonus on top of that.

Probably my favorite part, though, is the incredible atmosphere. I used to think of Batman's villains as being largely cartoonish caricatures of criminals. It took this game to drive home the fact that the Joker, Scarecrow and Poison Ivy are dangerous psychopaths who would kill you for reasons you can't even fathom. Add to this a decaying, overrun insane asylum with the same kind of tense, macabre wonderland feel that I felt in Bioshock and this game is tops.

I really can't recommend it enough. It is basically the only game I've ever played that made me sad to finish. You're doing yourself a huge disservice if you're not at least trying this game.

Most Anticipated for 2010

God of War 3

In fact, it is possible for God of War to be even better! You have to add the ability to ride a maimed cyclops through a horde of enemies and the pure fun of grabbing a guy by his guts and using him like a battering ram to bowl over your foes, but it can be done. Look for it in March.

Dante's Inferno

This game has proven quite controversial. No, not because of Visceral's attempts to generate publicity by staging fake protests by Christian groups. Rather, it's the fact that they've made a video game of the Divine Comedy in which the poetic observer is replaced by a blood-crazed, morally curious crusader with a giant scythe and a fireball crucifix and are expecting to be taken seriously. I just finished the demo and, for all respects, the gameplay is exactly like God of War. But the style is completely slick (I have a great passion for Renaissance depictions of hell) and God of War had shit hot gameplay, so I'll be giving this one a gander in February.

Darksiders

To be honest, I was severely on the fence about this. The style doesn't entirely jive with me (fire and brimstone demons are a bit passe, as far as I'm concerned) and there's only so much God of War-esque gameplay I can take. Recent developments have suggested it's more akin to a darker, apocalyptic Legend of Zelda than anything else, though. Given that I love the Zelda games and I also love ripping zombies apart, I think this January release will be worth a look or two.

That's that! I hope you find these suggestions useful!

Ho Ho Holy Crap

The Holidays are upon us, the time of year where you continue to provide a reason to your friends and relatives to keep talking to you! But, as you no doubt know, love does not come cheaply unless you have a heap of alcohol. Thus, you are faced with two problems: alcohol is an inappropriate gift to give anyone except your editor and one your two areas of expertise are fantasy books and Diwali decorations.

Fortunately for you, I don't think of myself as just a violent, angry man whose thoughts you read in anticipation of the day I finally snap, I think of myself as your friend. Thusly, I am bringing to you, in this very post...

Sam Sykes' Fantasy Book Holiday Buyer's Guide for Misanthropes and Felons

So! What fantasy book do you buy for people? Well, let's take it family member by family member...

For your weird uncle who has flashbacks to a war that has never happened...

A tough sell! What do you buy a guy who has entertained thoughts of smothering you with a pillow? Such a gift must be one to stay his hand. Why not try Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie? I will not lie to you: Abercrombie is a terrible man and a horse thief, but he is an excellent author and this book is probably his best yet. Filled to the brim with violence, intrigue and possible incest, it is the perfect gift to give a family member!

For your mother who sometimes stares at you for a long time and then sighs...

Clearly, you're going to want a book that is so fantastic and joyous that your mother will stop questioning why she had you and start questioning why she didn't have you sooner! Something perhaps a little light on murder and sexual promiscuity...I'll be frank with you, here, though, I haven't read a lot of books that feature this. Clearly, the best way to go is the opposite direction and get The Steel Remains by Richard K. Morgan (the "K" stands for "Kay," I'm told).

For your strange cousin who you once caught talking to the blender and you swore you'd never tell but oh lord it's just so weird...

Weird, deadpan and surprisingly philosophical perfectly describes one of my favorite urban fantasy authors: Mike Carey and his Felix Castor novels that begin with The Devil You Know. This book is excellent for anyone who finds regular noir to be lacking in paranoiac zombies and regular urban fantasy to be lacking in complex moral issues regarding whether or not it's right to kill a demon with a tin whistle.

For your sister who is wondering if there is life after Dumbledore...

Harry Potter junkies are notoriously hard to shop for. They've read the books, seen the movies and stolen a lock of Alan Rickman's hair already, so what else is there to do beyond stealing a snowy owl and facing the prison charge? Well, it all depends on what you want from them...

If you want them to hate you...

Try Lev Grossman's The Magicians. Don't be fooled, it's an excellent book, but it's pretty free of the innocence, wonder and mystery (replaced with sex, drugs and bestiality...or is it bestiality if it's shapeshifted consenting fox sex?) At any rate, definitely good for those who like a bit of philosophy in their magic school stories.

If you want them to like you...

Then look no further than what is quickly being described as the Potter for adults: The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. With a lot of wonder and awkward teenage courtship going on, it's got pretty much everything the maturing fantasy reader could want!

Incidentally, what with this being the time of year where people desperately try to relieve the crushing weight of their guilt by donating to charity, please check out Rothfuss' blog for details on giving to his sponsored charity: Worldbuilders and Heifer International. He's done an immense amount putting his newfound fame to work for the needy, so why not invest a little money in a good deed? If you're not too late, you can get prizes, a general good feeling, and I can personally guarantee you that he will give you a big, furry hug or I will hit him with a crowbar (when you belong to the same publishing house, you can't press charges of threats of violence, this is law). Do keep in mind, though, there is a rumor that his beard eats faces. Consider it carefully when choosing to embrace the beast.

And finally, for that special someone who privately wonders what the noises coming from your basement are...

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch (his website isn't loading for me and holy crap have you never heard of google, sheesh) is pretty much one of the best books I've ever read. I'm loathe to call it the everyman's fantasy for fear of diminishing how cool it is, but it is quite appealing to all demographics from children with colorful vocabularies to mafia hitmen.

And that concludes this year's edition! In all seriousness, this guide is pretty much crafted to suggest both some of my favorite books and some fantasy books that are pretty accessible to everyone, no matter how much they've read.

As for me, I will be buying my family prints from my favorite webcomic: Beartato (also known as Nedroid). All gifts send a message and this is one is specifically crafted to be deeply confusing.

Also, I'm not a shill for Amazon.com (see! I didn't link them!), but that is a pretty easy way to buy books, yo.

Happy Holidays! Sleep with one eye open!