Updates and Other Things

Hey, Folks.

I thought I’d do some updates of what is slated to come out for the Summer and rest of the year. What does that entail? Let’s list it out!

  • The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal in all formats.

This means paperback, hardcover, and digital. Digital will be up first and priced at $2.99 on Amazon and right here at home. Purchase links will be available two weeks before widespread public release on A.B.Normal Publishing. Print editions will follow simultaneous of the Kindle release.

  • The Conclusion of Johnny Nightwalker

This story will be wrapped up soon. We can then wave goodbye to one of our suburban heroes for good…or maybe not. Who knows?

  • Lynaly’s Requiem

The Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle prequel is being edited, and well, I want to do more additions to it. That’s the beauty of working on something you love (and when it’s in your hands). The Lodestone Files and Abnormal Side Effects…those will be retouched (or remastered) with extras. More on that below.

Anyway, I will release this novella at $0.99 when it is finished. Spring/Summer 2018 release pending extra curricular activity. There will be a new edition where both stories (Lynaly & Lilah’s) are as they were supposed to be… One.

There will be a new edition where both stories (Lynaly & Lilah’s) are as they were supposed to be… One.

This, in turn, will lead to the planned special edition of Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle. It will include the uncut version of Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle, the bits here and there that were cut, and what Al and I had called “The Lilah Bible.” It probably isn’t anything substantial, but I like creating things for everyone to see and enjoy. This edition will also include the novella about Lynaly and a bonus chapter from the next book.

  • Dana and Walter’s Adventures aka The Dana and Walter Files: The Untold Stories of New Boston and Middleton

This title is just a placeholder. Ode to Captain Placeholder. Fare thee well.

Anyway, I have a miniseries that will be first written online about the favorable detective duo—Walter and Dana.

Depending on the size, it may just be a novella or novel. It could also just be an anthology. It could be any size I’d want it to be really…but hmm…well you know.

  • The Lodestone Files: The Cat, The Mouse, and The Thing from Another World

I completed this last year… It was available on the site, but I didn’t get a cover done up. Well, that’s gonna change, and it’ll be available for sale, etc., Soon.

  • The Lodestone Files: Books Three and Four

Yep. There are four parts. The last two will be quick follow ups, and the series will be concluded.

As a bonus to the fun that was involved in the process…there will be a short story that I have drafted up from another location that takes place within the Lodestone universe.

Eventually, all four titles will be put in a neat little collection in all formats for you to enjoy. These were designed (unintentionally, but kind of so) to be quick reads. The super group will be pretty sweet (at least I think so—that is, in my opinion).

  • Abnormal Side Effects Redux

This title will get some TLC loving because it needs to. There will be a cover overhaul, a few more stories added.

  • Abnormal Essential Collection

Originally, this was what Abnormal Side Effects was going to be. However, this is going to have EVERYTHING. What do I mean by everything? It’s one of those…greatest hits kind of deals.

It will have The Lodestone FilesLilah’s Guide to HoyleAbnormal Side Effects, more stories, poems, and more extras. It will be a little black book with red font. No. Seriously.

  • MORE COMING!

Trust me. A lot is coming out.

Like what?

Book’s three and four for Lilah, Dana, Walter…everyone.

Bud Berkman’s premier.

Super-ultra-omega 600+ page sci-fi post-apocalyptic epic.

Sinclair Gets His Rolex, which is my superhero title [This is done by the way].

The next chapters of The Mysterious Stranger.

Last but not least…MORE BEAR GOD!

I’ll also be wrapping up some other stories, both long and short. It’s going to be only getting busier with balls going everywhere.

I hope you all enjoy this tidbit of what’s coming up and what’s in store for you.

I wish you all a s’good day/night.

Until next time,

RJM

 

Note: If you or someone you know is interested in being a guest blogger or contributor, please feel free to email me: mrsincados@abnormalpublishing.com with “Guest Blogger” or “Guest Contributor” as the subject.
This was originally published on www.abnormalpublishing.com by Robert J. S. T. McCartney.

New Book Coming Soon! The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal

This entry was originally posted on A.B.Normal Publishing and Media Group’s website, where I write and contribute… a lot. 

The Chronic Suicidal is Coming Soon Q3/4 2017

Hey, folks.

As some of you may have seen on Facebook or Twitter, we’re getting ready for the great coming of Bob, the Chronic Suicidal.

The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal will be on sale later this year in all formats (ebook, print, and hardcover). Price, cover, and more will be released soon.

There will be a limited batch of signed copies on hand, with a contest set to claim them. Contest specifications, rules, and such are TBA, and are subject to change on a whim.

As always, when you purchase a print copy, you’ll get the Kindle version for free.

There will also be “Bob” merchandise. More on that later.

I know, I know, that’s a lot of “later” talk… but trust me, you’re gonna love his tale.

For now, you can read the raw story, as it unfolded, here on A.B.Normal Publishing and Media Group.

Please remember, this is fiction. It’s an entertainment tale; a take on a fictitious entity. We do not support or encourage suicide. We are not doctors or professionals in the field of medicine or mental psychology or psychosis. If you’re in need of help, please contact a licensed practitioner or contact the Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255, or go to Suicide Lifeline Prevention.

We look forward to bringing you another exciting story to places around the world.

I invite you to stay tuned for more.

Until next time,

RJM

Hanging on to a Thought

Even though you’re gone,
We’ll keep moving on.
You’ll be another thought—a memory,
Someone who was just like me.

You should hear the things that they say
That you “quit and threw it all away.”

That “you didn’t care about the rest world,”
“Selfish. Good riddance.” Other “sentiments” hurled.

Though, I know that you’re somewhere around,
Safely watching all the things that will become unbound.

They say it’s a joke, a cop-out, and easy to quit,
“Live. Let love.  C’mon, man, take another hit.”

To leave behind all that you love and make a great escape,
When we live and breed in a world full of greed and hate.

For when the demons have finally won, what more is there to say?
“Why did you give up. Why didn’t you stay?”

So often we say that we’re fine,
Debating, procrastinating, biding my time.

When will it be?
All this misery…

Too many times I’ve put it all down,
Not to let myself be consumed, pulled under and drown.
Letting others know that it’s not my time to go.
And though I smile and try to be strong,
My thoughts, they’re dark; caged, I don’t know how long.

Eventually, the dam will break,
All that has been locked away—will I wake?

It’ll be a day where there’s no preparation,
Maybe then we can have our conversation.

In the end, we die alone,
But in life we’re lights, shone.
To each other in the dark,
We guide one another, looking for our spark.

And so your story might have ended,
Those who are lost will continue to be tended.
Our invisible wounds from which that we bleed,
All the pain and agony inside which has sown its seed.

We’re not alone in our daily struggle,
But the world makes it harder to “love your neighbor.”
Frowned upon and looked down on,
Being called “a freak,” and “you should kill yourself.”

The problem isn’t us or those that already hurt,
It’s those that antagonize and do so spurt—
Content and think they’re “safe” behind their computer screen,
When they’ve never even met you or me.

So I understand why you felt you had to go,
I only wish you could have lived to see life so.

What wonders that maybe… the world will bring,
Even if though we’ll never hear you sing.

…Again…

Comfortably numb do I exist,
Still, I’ll fight and continue to resist.
The darkness and horror that lives within,
So that maybe others can be helped—that they can see what life’s like when it begins.


Rest easy, and thanks for all you’ve done.

This was also published on www.abnormalpublishing.com

Announcing “Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle” Free July 21 — July 24th

Hey, folks.

Next week [July 21 — July 24] you can get the urban fantasy novel, Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle for free in the Kindle store.

In the USA? Free. UK? Free! Mexico? Italy? Germany? FREE. It’s free for all to enjoy (or even hate! …but you can reach that decision on your own).

If you’re a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, then great news, everyone! You can already grab a Kindle copy for free.

Don’t miss out on an enjoyable reading experience.


“All life is a gamble . . . We go to sleep every night comfortably betting that the next day we’ll wake up.”

Deluxe cover for "Lilah's Guide to Hoyle."

“All life is a gamble… We go to sleep every night comfortably betting that the next day we’ll wake up.”

Demons. Sorcery. Magical playing cards. It’s anything but a fairy tale. Armed with her choice deck, her beloved book, Hoyle’s Guide to Poker and Parlor Tricks, and the skill that led her to throw away her college fund, Lilah gambles with her life—and with the lives of those around her.

Elsewhere, other players have a different idea of the rules of the game. And investigating the bizarre chain of events is Middleton PD’s finest, Detectives Dana Deupree and Walter Conway.

It’s anyone’s game. The cards have been shuffled and the stakes are high. The call has gone around the table. Others may fold, but not Lilah. She plays for keeps.

What will you wager? Will you call? Stand? Or will you fold?


Be sure to get in on the action… for a limited time!

July 21 — July 24, 2017

Until next time,

RJM

A Novelette: The Crystal Manor’s Secret

The Crystal Manor’s Secret

“Time heals all wounds,” he remembered someone saying. He thought it to be horse shit.

Simon is a 14-year-old dealing with plenty of things: depression, suicide attempts, parental issues, and being the subject of plenty of kids’ jokes at school. His parents take the advice of their son’s psychiatrist and go on a family vacation to the fabled Crystal Bay Estate.

This family trip, however, is anything but helpful. Read on to read the story in its entirety. Continue reading

The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal

A story I wrote on a whim, and on the idea during a dark bout with myself.

This story revolves around death, suicide, and everything in-between.

It’s something I enjoyed writing, honestly, contrary to its dark tone and incessant, senseless killing.

A.B.Normal Publishing and Media Group

Have you had those moments where you are sitting there [or hell, driving. . .] and you’re just thinking, “man, I could totally kill myself right now.” Or maybe [and work with me here] you’re sitting at the dinner table with your family; you know, your spouse, maybe your parents, kids, or siblings, whatever. Then the moment you are served dinner or you break bread you’re just like “fuck it,” slam your palms [or fists, or do a table flip, I don’t fucking know] down and you grab that steak knife and then, SLIT! You know? Slit your own throat? However that stupid saying goes? Yes? No? Wait—wait. . .wrong use. In this case, literal, literally slitting your own damn throat. Right there. At the dinner table. You got blood spraying, gushing out, dripping down your clothes. . .all over the furniture, the walls, the fine china, the mashed potatoes…

View original post 870 more words

Z

For our oldest princess (and cub), Zelda. Happy birthday, pumpkin. Mommy, daddy, and Aeris love you—always and forever.


Z

Today
Here and now
Celebration
Declaration

Of my oldest pride and joy
Reminiscing
Forgiving
A pain that won’t go away

I’ve watched you grow
From a baby to a young girl
You smile and it warms my heart
But still I can’t let go

Yesterday
It hurts the most
For that’s when I cried
The hardest. Ever. In my entire life.
The thought of losing you, and your mom—my wife

My life
I thought, was over

So I would sit

In the dim lit
Room of darkened thoughts

Reasoning
Blaming

Guilt
Swelled over the wall

I had built up
To keep all out
It came crumbling down

I was a father
A husband
All in one day
But
Would I remain that way?


Tomorrow
I know that the day will come
To let you out of my arms
But before then
I’ll tell you
I love you
Every day
I remain

Just know though
That I’m sorry
For the things that others say
But I know though
That if they knew you
And the place from which you came

They’d say “thank you”
For showing us
Angels really exist

And though I may cry
For when I say goodnight
At the thought of it being the last

I know though
That one day
I’ll see you with us once again
And it’s not the last

My warrior princess
Made from power and wisdom
You are my courage
And our love

Pure and everlast

You are our Zelda
Our little miss sass

Poem: Black

Black

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

All these scenes I’ve painted black,
To hide the pain, I’ve yet to have attack—

Me; nay, us, for the day will eventually come,
An assassin lying in waiting, where it shall strike from?

They say to “go in faith” and “take this tome,”
Tis often true, tragedy strikes close to home.

Where I’ve found myself on my back,
crippled from a fall; an attempt to snap—

My neck, my limbs, my life. . .broken,
The words I’ll never utter, never spoken.

As darkness comes and overwhelms what I see,
I know you’ll never understand who I really was. . .me.

“It’s better this way” I once thought,
To give up, that it’s all for naught.

However, I’ve learned that there is much more, to this thing called life.
And that is why I am so happy to have you as my wife.

Though, I fight, the right and wrong; with the light and dark,
I know you’ll be there to guide me along the way, on this journey we embark.

For I now see, I was selfish and wrong,
That alone, I was weak but together, we are strong.

The scenes will become clear, and on that day, we may weep,
For when one goes down to eternal sleep.

That’s alright because at least we will be there,
No one else, with nothing left to care.


This was originally posted on A.B.Normal Publishing’s site.

My Own Prison: A Poem and Post

Prison. For most, they think it to be a building—a physical entity that exists to house criminals and wrong doers. In most cases, however, a prison can also be one’s self. For the millions of those who suffer from depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder [PTSD] and many of the other mental illnesses and disorders, their mind is their own prison.

Built from the ground up, bit by bit, piece by piece. It can result from many things. For me: it’s been overcoming guilt. The burning anger that resides within. The negativity of several people and their dirty antics. The “what ifs?” The memories, though some blurry, of when I was on my antidepressants; the actions and things said. . .done. The immense sadness that dwells within. The constant twisting and shaping of how one can manipulate things against their own being. You realize it, you acknowledge it, and you know it to be a lie, but you can’t seem to overcome the grief that has besieged you and left you, seemingly, stranded.

Alone.

A fight for your life.

You have been tossed into shark infested waters, and you are bleeding out.

My first therapist wasn’t horrible. He was just doing his job and trying to help me. You can’t help those who do not will to be helped or want it. I found it to be my punishment—to suffer—to slowly kill myself. Painfully. With the most potent malice ever conceived.

There were others that tried to help. Then there was the medication. Going to sleep for. . .what I believed was one day, turned into two or more sometimes. It hurt. I felt I was missing out on the most important of times, and it was unfair—to my daughter and my wife. . .and myself.

I was unstable. Anything and everything could set me off. The wind could blow the wrong direction and I would be having an anger attack. Eventually, I would do an unspeakable act that would convince myself; through a sort of out of body experience, that I needed to lose the medication and get proper help. That I needed to accept responsibility and be a man, a father, a husband. There were to be no more “woe is me” moments.

It would take time. . .

As time has gone on and that I went through EMDR therapy, my overall person has improved. I made changed, important and very much needed changes. I stopped being surrounded by negative people. I began exercising and losing weight (because I have always hated my body image). I stopped drinking alcohol in unnecessary consumption rates (I was an alcoholic, plain and simple in the end there. I became dependant on it).I started eating healthier. The food I did consume was not healthy and paired with soda, it bogged me down.

Simply enough, I didn’t care about myself. I didn’t love myself. I needed to change that. Being on the path to recovery doesn’t happen overnight and everyone is different.

“Get over it. That happened X years ago.”

“That still bothers you? Grow up.”

[At the intersection where the accident happened after finally being able to take my daughter home, away from the hospital, with my wife in the car behind me] “Sorry, I thought this would be the faster way. . .”

Being accused of wanting to kill my wife and daughter and using the accident to cover it up.

Those were a few of the many things said that were fuel added to the raging tempest I held within.

Time. Help. Understanding. Therapy. Changes.

That has been what has helped me. Good friends. Family. And making myself really change—for the better.

Every now and then, I get a dark spell, and that’s OK because it’s going to happen. I’ve been trying a new technique personally, and it’s helped. . .to a degree. Writing, however, has been the most helpful.

Normally, I’d never share my emotions or my thoughts. I figure, though, if someone can relate—someone can be helped, and that others out there that struggle can know that they are not alone in the fight. That there are rescue boats in these shark infested waters with proper help for you. Then that’s fine with me. Because we are all pieces of a far grand puzzle than we can comprehend.

Stay strong and stay vigilant, friends.


My Own Prison

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

Life undoes itself from me slowly as dare try to redeem
This prison
All these walls I’ve built up
Damn them
Damn me

I want to break free
From the binds that continue to keep me
Sometimes I only believe in self-absolving

But I know it to only be
I mustn’t keep fighting for me
For they are why I am here
The things I hold dear

Here

I will suffer through the pain
Because I have so much more to gain
Pain knows love just as well

As life knows death
Intermingled we are

The realization in which I now know
I do not suffer alone

Suicide: A Poem and Post

Depression, anxiety, PTSD, and other disorders. Let none rule your life and hold you down. Talk about your problems. We all live together, in one shape or form.

For several years, I’ve struggled with depression. As such, I’ve attempted suicide a few times, often to make it look like an accident. From much trauma, chaos, and disorder, I went through adolescence and went without help.

Now, after enduring with my PTSD and anxiety; coupled with depression, I sought out help. It’s taken many years and many sessions. . .but so far, so good. I’ve learned to cope, to deal, and to make the best out of things.

Everyone handles their stress, depression and such differently. It’s good to talk about things that are occurring and impacting your life. Just know this, you are not alone in the fight.


My Suicide


To some, it’s a taboo,
To others, it’s nothing new.

It’s a choice we’ve come to make,
Either to live or die.

Fake.
Cry.

Alone.
Atone.

Always putting on a front,
Being told it’s just a stunt.

It’s ours to take.
A choice.

Live.
Born.

Give.
Die.

Abstract; we live in denial,
The End, its impact; a hung jury, mistrial.

I, too, have suffered and wandered alone,
I’ve tried plenty; to also push beyond it and overcome grief.

At times, it’s gotten to be the end,
There was always a reason to stay, it was just beyond me.

Now when I look into your eyes, I know I was right,
Being led through the dark, with you as my light.

I’ve killed myself and let go,
All the feelings of pain and guilt.

No more hate or regret,
Of the things that could have, should have been.

Silhouette.
Forget.

Sin.
Has-been.

Empty words to try and make it worse,
To lay us to waste and curse—

A reminder: for we are all one in the same, just trying to make it through the day.
Don’t be scared of the darkness or give it blame, this I say.

Call it friend.

For I tell you, friend, this is not your end.
I will not influence your choice for if you are set, but let me tell you: life is a test.

Trials we must face and endure. Make the best of any situation, even in death.
For when you take your last breath, sigh in relief. Friends help friends, even strangers; close and far, through grief.

I wish you well, friend, and to those very same who may suffer alone.

Here is my hand, let me help. Here is my ear, let me listen. Here are my lips, heed my words. These are my eyes, they see you.

May you be, released from your prison. . .be free.


Originally was posted on A.B.Normal Publishing