I have restless leg syndrome, ADHD, zero patience and thin skin, so of course I chose to be a novelist—something that requires being seated for long periods, focusing intently, and waiting months or years for rejection.
I know, it makes no sense. Fortunately, not making sense is trending these days, so my love of long fiction fits right in.
What makes even less sense is the fact that, up until very recently, I rarely even thought about writing short stories. Even the most avid novelists typically tinker around with "quick fiction" during breaks from whatever book they’re working on or whenever between novels. Me? Until a few months ago, I hadn’t written a short story since I’d been required to for a creative writing class back in college. That was nearly thirty years ago. (I attended college when I was six.)
It’s certainly not that I dislike short stories. The fact is, I read them all the time. (I like how they finish quickly and enable me to get back to working on my novels.) But yeah, I don’t know—I just never fell in love with writing them.
That’s all changed.
Long story short(ish), back in March the pandemic forced my agent to pause on sending my latest manuscript out to publishers in hopes of landing me a book deal. I realized it wasn’t going to be until after next fall (2021) before I could hope to see my next novel introduced to the world.
So I had a choice: I could just be patient and get started on my NEXT next novel while waiting for good news from my agent and then count down the many, many months until my book launch, OR I could start writing a series of short stories that would enable me to not only keep my writing muscles from atrophying but also keep my name fresh in readers' minds—before I get too old to remember what my name even is. And since I had already written my NEXT next novel (due out anytime between 2024 and the return of the dinosaurs), my decision was an easy one:
Go short.
And I’ve gotta say, I’m LOVING it. I’m also kicking myself for not having realized this sooner, for not having made short stories a regular part of my writing regimen all these years.
The list of reasons why I’m now enamored with short stories is long. I’ll keep it brief:
Short stories are a great way to revisit old fictional friends.It's a lot of fun hanging out with my previous protagonists and going on quick, new adventures with them. The difference between hanging out with them in a novel and hanging out with them in a short story is sort of like the difference between living with a friend for a year and going to Vegas with a friend for a wild weekend. You still get into a bunch of trouble and cause a lot of damage, but it's over with in a hurry—and frees you up to hang out with another crazy old friend the next weekend. (Or to make a new crazy friend and do fun, dangerous stuff with them.)
Short stories are perfect for giving new novel ideas a test run. Used to be whenever trying to decide whether or not a particular idea was novel-worthy, I’d desperately shake a Magic 8-Ball and see what answer would appear in the window of the wise plastic sphere: “It is decidedly so” or “Don’t count on it” or “Ask again later” or “Enough with the writing—get a REAL job, Greg” (Turns out my father had secretly tinkered with my Magic 8-Ball). As you probably already know, reading the words on a tiny polyhedron floating in a mysterious liquid isn’t the best way to make important decisions.
I’ve since discovered I can test out any potential book idea by writing a short story about it and seeing if it grabs me—and readers—enough to invest three hundred pages towards it. And while writing a short story takes longer than shaking a novelty gift, it’s a much more accurate predictor. Plus it doesn’t make a mess when I throw it against a wall in frustration.
Short stories can go big—FAST. Where in a novel you need to take time to establish the setting and explore the entire three-act structure and fully develop the protagonist along with several other key characters, such is not the case in a short story. The latter allows—and practically begs—you to not only start off in media res (in the middle of the action) but stay there right in the thick of the fun for most of the story—then ramp up from there with a shocking twist or two. When well executed, a short story takes a reader from totally captivated to completely riveted to “Whoa, she saved the entire world from Dr. Evil Genius’ tornado machine AND it turns out she was dead the whole time!” in less than half an hour.
Short stories are ripe for experimentation. While it may be risky to invest years of your life to writing an epic existentialist sci-fi-cri saga about a man from the future who travels back to the present and finds out he’s his own son, but writing such an absurdist tale as a short story could be a lot of fun—and probably won’t destroy your writing career. This is not to suggest you shouldn’t flex your creative muscles and play around with high concepts in your long fiction, too; I’m merely saying don’t write an epic existentialist sci-fi saga about a man from the future who travels back to the present and finds out he’s his own son.
I love drinking bourbon with my muse and brainstorming truly wild, inventive story ideas that will take me only a few days to write before I realize how insane they are and how much of a drinking problem my muse has.
Short stories provide quick gratification. Who has time to always write/read thirty chapters before revealing/discovering who the killer is? Sure, a great thriller or mystery novel is a wonderful accomplishment for an author and a rewarding read for a reader, but sometimes we all just need a good “quickie” to satisfy our literary yearnings. As much as I adore digging my way out from under a giant narrative arc and getting tossed about by a herd of wild, untamed twists for weeks or months on end, there’s something extremely gratifying about hopping into the writing/reading raft then shooting the rapids and finishing in time for lunch.
Short stories offer swift revenge.You know how you can’t help but fantasize about murder after your mechanic totally screws you on your car repair or your neighbor continuously disrupts your life with their power-tool obsession or a mask-less stranger coughs on you in the produce section of the supermarket? No? Well then you haven’t lived! Fiction is a wonderful way to kill people who piss you off, but very few writers besides Stephen King have the speed and skill to write an entire murderous novel every time somebody ruins their day. Short stories provide an immediate and healthy outlet for all our natural homicidal urges.
Got a neighbor who won’t lay off his circular saw while you’re trying to think? Simply write an eight-page tale about the mysterious murder and dismemberment of a tool junkie. Can’t get over how much your contractor charged you for the bathroom remodel he never finished? Write a short story about a serial killing tool junkie who dismembers contractors with his circular saw.
This way, the horrible people you encounter die only on paper and you get to feel better while avoiding prison. Everybody wins!
As infatuated as I’ve become with short stories, I’ll never abandon long fiction. Novels will always be my first love—at least until my mind goes and I can't remember what happened in a previous sentence let alone a previous chapter.
So ... what was I saying?
For some truly stellar short crime fiction/noir, be sure to check out the sites/zines listed below. (Many thanks to Chris Rhatigan—editor of the crime fiction journal All Due Respect and the co-publisher of All Due Respect Books—for his help in compiling this killer list.)
Some might think it’s odd to blog about how a pandemic that’s still going on in real life will shape future works of fiction. And I agree. But hey, I also think it’s odd to have huge beach barbecues and house parties while a pandemic’s still going on in real life, yet THAT doesn’t seem to be stopping people.
At least this blog post won’t infect anyone. (That is, assuming nobody who already is infected prints out this post and licks it before handing it to their least favorite person. [More on that later on in this post.]) Besides, it’s only natural for a writer to think about the effect COVID-19 may have on the genre they write in. Especially a writer who has been cooped up for months with a year's supply of liquor.
So yeah, I have been thinking about how crime fiction might change and morph and evolve as the world changes and morphs and evolves. And today I’m going to blog about it. Now, some folks will say I’m doing so in a desperate attempt to create a bunch of buzz around the new crime fiction subgenres I’ve listed below while I secretly work on novels in those subgenres in hopes of becoming a mega-bestselling author in the near future. Really? That would be ridiculous—nobody reads my blog.
Regardless, I hereby present three new crime fiction subgenres that, with any luck, will emerge from the coronavirus pandemic as hot literary trends:
1) Quarantine Murder Mysteries.These books will be sort of like the traditional country house murder mysteries of yesteryear—only with a lot more hand sanitizer.
Few things are more thrilling than a good “closed-circle” murder. There’s an elevated sense of suspense and reader engagement when the list of possible suspects is very limited but where each suspect has a seemingly strong motive. Add in the fact that every character is related and has been cooped up together for weeks or months or possibly even two straight Thanksgivings, and the tension becomes thick enough to choke someone before dismembering them. As if that weren’t already enough to keep readers of quarantined murder mysteries riveted, each scene will be informed by a killer virus lurking outside every window, forbidding any character from letting off steam at a gym, yoga studio or monster-truck event. And don’t forget the added tension caused by characters having to home-school any kids who may be in the story.
From the inciting incident all the way through to the final chapter, a well executed quarantine murder mystery will leave readers guessing who done it?
Was it the wife, in the bedroom, using a golf club?
Or the mother, in the family room, using an algebra book?
Or the brother, in the bathroom, using an iPad with the browser found open to Pornhub?
What’s more, quarantine murder mysteries will provide ample opportunities for shocking twists. Like, maybe the murderer turns out not to be someone quarantined in the house but rather a Favor driver who got stiffed on a tip after risking their life to bring the victim a measely quart of Kung Pao chicken. Or, even more shocking, maybe the murder turns out not be a murder after all—maybe it was an accidental poisoning caused by the victim injecting Lysol into their own ass after watching the news.
2) Supermarket Thrillers.Since the coronavirus started hogging all the headlines a few months ago, Grocery shopping has gone from being an uneventful weekly errand to Mission Almost Impossible. Expect to see this not only reflected but prominently featured in the thrillers of the very near future.
Think Jack Reacher kicking ass at Albertsons—all while remaining at least six feet away from any ass that needs kicking.
While an entire novel set inside a supermarket would have been scoffed at or completely ignored by publishers and readers alike back in early January, today such books would hit the international bestseller list faster than their protagonists will move through a produce department. The high stakes along with the non-stop action and suspense will have readers on the edge of their plastic-covered seats inside their underground bunker.
The heroes in supermarket thrillers will face peril on every page. Every food item they touch could mean the end not just of them but of civilization as we know it. All it would take is one false move, a single lapse in concentration: Maybe the hero loses focus at the deli counter and rubs their eye without thinking; or slides their facemask down to scratch a nose itch after having just handled several peaches; or uses their mouth to pull off a disposable glove while busy using the other hand to send a text to headquarters alerting them that they’ve made it out of the store alive.
Oh, and the fight scenes. They’ll be magnificent—not just because of the creative fighting methods the hero will need to use in order to throttle their nemesis without touching them, but also because there will be more thanone nemesis. There’ll be dozens—basically anyone in the store who refuses to wear a mask or to adhere to social distancing rules or who tries to buy more than the allotted amount of toilet paper.
3) Bioterrorism Noir.When it comes to crime fiction, I’m most drawn to the darker characters: the lowlifes; the villains; the weirdos; the anti-heroes. Maybe my interest in and affinity for the “criminal mind” simply means I have moral ambiguity in my genes. Or perhaps it has more to do with me not being breastfed as a child. Regardless, I love me some noir. Transgressive tales where the protagonist is perfectly and often tragically flawed, someone you can’t resist rooting for in a book but whom you wouldn’t be caught dead with in real life.
Bioterrorism noir will go beyond even that—it will feature protagonists you can’t resist rooting for but whom you likely would be caught dead with in real life. That’s because the protagonists in bioterrorism noir will carry out all the dangerous and deadly acts that people like you and me merely fantasize about during a pandemic.
Oh, come on, don’t pretend like you haven’t imagined being able to purposely infect people you feel the world might be better off without (even if they go away only for a few weeks of quarantining). Don’t act like you haven’t entertained the notion of targeting … oh, I don’t know … rapists and pedophiles who are still on the loose, or politicians you loathe with every fiber of your being, or the guy you saw lick his fingers before turning the pages of a magazine in your doctor’s waiting room. Or politicians you loathe with every fiber of your being. (Did I already mention that one?)
Soon there will be loads of great novels featuring a main character who isn't afraid to take the law—and a deadly virus—into their own hands. Perhaps the character will be a member of a secret organization that’s developed an accurate and efficient virus-delivery system to ensure that innocent bystanders aren’t infected. Or a rogue vigilante with a personal score to settle using a vial of the virus stolen from a lab. Or maybe just Bob from Accounting who has gotten used to working from home and can’t bear the idea of spending hours in rush-hour traffic ever again, so he contracts the virus on purpose and walks around mask-less coughing on everyone he sees.
Bioterrorism noir novels will elicit fear and paranoia among regular, everyday citizens—sort of the same way Jaws did among beachgoers.
"Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the world."
YOUR turn! What subgenres do you think might emerge from the pandemic? Which of the ones listed above would you be most likely to read? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below. Or don’t—I’m not the boss of you.
NOTE: Some of you may be interested in a subgenre that wasn’t listed in this post but is no less compelling: it’s called the Sardonically Twisted Greg Levin Crime Thrillers subgenre. Be sure to check out the books that fall under this yet-to-be-discovered but fantastic category by clicking HERE.
Up until very recently, reading a blog post title like the one above would fill me with the urge to punch or break something. Or get drunk. Usually all three. It’s not that I wasn’t happy to hear about other authors landing a literary agent; it’s simply that my pettiness and jealousy outweighed such happiness. (In my defense, I'm not a very good person.)
However, now that I’ve landed a literary agent (finally!), titles like the one above don’t seem to bother me at all. In fact, instead of wanting to punch and break things and get drunk, I want to hug and kiss complete strangers, and get drunk. But I promised my wife I’d stop doing those first two—at least until my agent sells my novel (Into a Corner) to a major publisher.
But enough about me. Let’s talk about my agent, Janet Reid.
I could just end this blog post right here, as most people in the writing and publishing world are aware of who Janet is, how helpful her advice is for writers (particularly those in the querying stage), and the great things she has accomplished as an agent for many authors.
But I’m not going to end this post so abruptly because:
1) Ending a post so abruptly is a clear sign of insanity, and I’d rather Janet not find out I’m insane this early on in our agent/client relationship. (Of course, Janet already knows I’m a little crazy—as evidenced by her comment in an email referenced a little later on in this post.)
2) Four of the thirteen people who read my blog aren’t in the writing/publishing world and thus may not have ever heard of Janet.
3) I want to share what having an agent of Janet’s caliber in my corner means (and doesn’t mean) for my writing career going forward.
But before I go any further, here are a few factual(ish) stats that will help those of you who don't understand why I’m so giddy and grateful about getting a literary agent:
A typical literary agent receives hundreds (if not billions) of queries each month from writers seeking representation.
Somewhere between one in a thousand and one in a trillion writers who send out queries regarding their novel will end up landing a literary agent.
A typical writer drinks between two and twenty-six alcoholic beverages a day to help cope with the stress of waiting to hear back from agents regarding their query. (The majority of writers who aren’t drinkers smoke excessively or pop pills while waiting to hear back. Among the small percentage of writers who don’t drink, smoke or pop pills to help get them through the querying process, most of them died during the querying process.)
I realize the above bullet points contain a lot of math—well, for a writer, anyway. It’s not very accurate math, but that doesn’t matter. I merely wanted to give you an idea of how hard it can be to get a literary agent, and how much I peed my pants when I received an email from Janet Reid a few weeks ago that read:
Hi Greg,
Just finished reading Into A Corner and it's clear you're demented.
On the other hand, I laughed my asterisk off reading the sodium
hydroxide scene, so I'm clearly just as demented.
I'd be glad to talk to you about next steps for this book.
Let me know what day/time works for you for a telephone call.
In the publishing industry, the call Janet refers to is called “the call.” Among writers, “the call” is sort of like Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster—something you hear about all the time but are almost certain you’ll never witness personally. The purpose of “the call”—aside from making authors pee their pants—is for an agent to get a better feel for the author before deciding for sure whether to offer representation, and for the author to get key questions answered, like “What did you like about my manuscript?” and “What is your editorial vision for the book?” and “Will you pretty please with sugar on top offer me representation before I throw up from all the anxiety?” (That last question is best asked in silence.)
I made sure I was ready for my “the call” with Janet (which was scheduled for the day following her email that caused my incontinence). I went into “the call” equipped with a concise list of expert-recommended questions, as well as an adult diaper, and 5 mg of Valium to take the edge off of the 10 mg of Adderall I’d taken to remain sharp. I don’t really remember anything about “the call,” but it went great. Apparently, Janet told me such wonderful things about my manuscript, I had to be rushed to the emergency room by my wife to have my ego shrunken back down to a normal human-sized one.
At the end of “the call” (this part I remember), Janet told me not to give her an answer yet. As an author, you read all about this your entire pre-agent life—how, during “the call,” you need to show patience and restraint and not just shout “YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES, YES!”—especially if the agent hasn’t even offered representation yet. Janet, as all the top agents do, recommended I take some time—a week or two—to think about what I wanted for my writing career and whether or not I felt she truly was the best fit for me. She suggested I reach out to a few of her existing clients (of my choosing) and ask each of them what they thought of her, what it’s like being represented by her. She also reminded me to let any other agents who were currently considering my manuscript know that I was on the brink of accepting an offer of representation. She pointed out that doing the latter could result in me getting multiple offers from agents just as competent as her. (Basically, a literary agent is the opposite of a car salesperson—or any salesperson, for that matter. Nothing against salespeople, but if you ever were to eagerly whip out your checkbook to commit to a 4Runner at a Toyota dealership, the sales rep probably wouldn’t tell you to calm down and weigh all your options, or say, “Make sure you go across the street to the Mazda dealership and check out the CX-9—she’s a real beauty and drives like a dream!”
So, even though I’d dreamt of Janet Reid being my literary agent ever since I was old enough to dream about having a literary agent, I took my time and did exactly what Janet said to do—because you don’t get THIS close to landing Janet Reid and decide not to do exactly what she says. The clients of hers I emailed each promptly responded to me with the highest of praise for Janet and with enthusiastic congratulations for me on having gotten “the call” from her. Even the handful of agents I had notified about Janet’s offer responded with praise for her and congrats for me—basically stating far be it from them to stand in the way of my pending agreement with a rock star. (Okay, fine, a couple of them merely said Janet seemed like a better fit for me and my manuscript. But, hey, as a fiction writer, I like to embellish [read: lie] a little.)
Thus, I sat down and crafted my “I’ve-thought-long-and-hard-about-it-and-would-be-beyond-honored-and-thrilled-to-have-you-represent-me-till-death-do-us-part” email to Janet. But before clicking “send,” I checked the calendar and realized only two days had passed since “the call.” So I saved the email as a draft, then strapped on another adult diaper and bounced off the walls for a few days so Janet would know I had impulse control and that I’d be a cool, calm, breezy client. Then, five days after “the call”—while somehow on vacation in Australia visiting my in-laws—I clicked send and, when I didn’t hear back from Janet immediately, went into a panic-induced coma. I awoke from the coma hours or days or months later, just in time to find the following email from Janet waiting for me in my inbox:
I'm DELIGHTED to welcome you on board! Like seriously thrilled.
I can't wait to get started.
Once you're back, let's set up a telco to plot world domination.
What I did immediately after reading her message is all just a blur to me, but according to my wife and her family, my shrieks of joy shattered every window in my father in-law’s condo in Sydney. Needless to say, the rest of my vacation in Australia is also just a blur, but according to my wife and her family, I couldn’t shut up about landing my dream agent.
Now that I’ve had a few weeks to calm down and recover from the coma and the shrieking and the jetlag, I’ve got my head on straight and realize there’s a LOT of work to do (e.g., manuscript revisions/tweaks, social media sharpening, platform-growing, et. al.). And there's no guarantee of success. Sure, having an agent like Janet repping me is awesome and opens up a lot of new doors and gives me a solid chance to take my writing career to the next level—maybe even to earn enough to almost live off of. However, even the very best literary agents (of which Janet is certainly one) sell only about two out of every three manuscripts they take on and submit to publishers. Granted, I like the landing-a-publisher math a helluva lot more than the landing-an-agent math I cited earlier. Still, I won’t be popping any champagne corks or shattering any more windows with my joyous shrieks until Janet tells me it’s time to do so. I'll be awaiting her call or email—the one where she says, “Greg, I have some news—I hope you’re wearing a diaper.”
Big thanks to all of you for enduring my longer-than usual post (assuming you didn’t just skip to the end, like I would have done). It’s not often we writers get any sunlight, and I appreciate you spending a little extra time with me today while I basked in the warm rays—before another dark storm moves in and settles. Enjoy the rest of your ...
... oh, wait, just TWO MORE overly long sentiments before I go:
First—to all the writers out there who’ve been looking for an agent but receiving rejection after rejection yet still want an agent, DO NOT GIVE UP. I almost did, and know exactly how you feel. Remember, many good and great books get rejected over and over before getting that one “yes” from the right agent. And if you end up never getting an agent, who cares? We’re all going to die anyway, so have fun and NEVER STOP WRITING (until, of course, you die).
Secondly—landing a literary agent is never a solo act—and it was anything but in my case. I owe a gigantic THANK YOU to several people who were instrumental in me ending up on Janet Reid’s coveted client list. So…
THANK YOU, Darynda Jones (you mega best-selling author, you), for taking the time to reach out and introduce yourself this past summer, then convince me that I had the goods to get repped.
THANK YOU, Elisabeth Elo, for echoing Darynda Jones' sentiments (even if you didn't know it)—right when I was thinking of throwing in the querying towel.
THANK YOU, E.A. (Ed) Aymar, for always taking the time to answer my questions—many of which were stupid—about the quest for an agent, and the best way to tie a noose.
THANK YOU, Chris Rhatigan (of All Due Respect Books), for believing I had something special with Into a Corner and for your invaluable assistance in making the manuscript sparkle enough to catch the attention of the agent I’ve always wanted.
THANK YOU, Lauren Sapala, for the powerful, beautiful, incredibly encouraging message you sent me after I came to cry on your virtual shoulder. (In case you don’t remember the message, I’d be happy to take picture of it and send it to you. I have it right here next to me—I keep a printed copy of it on my writing desk at all times. No joke.)
THANK YOU, Miranda (my amazing wife), for believing in me and my writing since day one, and for refusing to even come close to ever letting me quit.
I’ve been so busy recovering from the holidays, working on novels, and teaching English to Chinese children via video, I haven’t had much time to create new content for my blog. It’s kind of like how a lot of you have been so busy doing all the things you do, you haven’t had time to read all of my books. So I figured I’d do us both a favor and create a blog post featuring the best bits from my three novels. This way, I get content to fill this space, and you get some of the greatest lines of neo-noir fiction ever written by anyone named Greg Levin.
Now I know what you’re all thinking: “Greg, that isn’t fair to you—it’s not an even trade, you deserve more!” Folks, please, don’t worry about it. It’s my pleasure to share my work.
Okay, fine, if you absolutely insist on not taking advantage of me, I guess you could purchase one of my novels. Actually, you couldn’t pick a better time do so—because for the first time EVER, ALL of my novels are available for JUST 99 CENTS! (Kindle version only.)
Never before haveIn Wolves’ Clothing,Sick to Death, andThe Exit Maneach been priced at under a buck at the same time. So why now, you ask? Because never before have I overestimated my net worth by so much or overspent so badly during the holidays—thus, I need to do everything I can to bring in some extra cash without having to endure the pain and inconvenience of getting a better-paying job or making any real sacrifices.
To help you decide which of my ridiculously low-priced novels you’d like to buy (or gift to a friend), have a look at the rest of this post. Below you’ll find a brief description of each novel, along with what I and three of my five fans believe to be the best lines from each book, as well as praise from renowned writers/reviewers I didn’t even have to bribe.
(Note: Click on any of the red title links above or below to be brought to the Amazon Kindle page for that book. Have I mentioned each book is currently just $0.99!? )
On his best days, Zero Slade is the worst man you can imagine.
After seven years on a team fighting international sex trafficking,
Zero's quite good at schmoozing with pimps, getting handcuffed by cops,
and pretending not to care about the young girls he liberates. But the
dangerous sting operations are starting to take a toll on his
marriage and health. Not to mention his sanity.
Some "killer" lines from IN WOLVES' CLOTHING:
“There’s nothing better than being the bad guy. Long enough to do some good.”
“I tell him I’ll be back to my old self once we’re getting handcuffed in Phnom Penh.”
“I can’t remember if I took an oxy during the flight, so I eat two. They pair nicely with the scotch. It’s good to be home.”
“That’s one of the drawbacks of good narcotics—they often cause you to say cheerful things.”
“Appear too confident and comfortable, and your cover is blown. You are a perverted coward with no shred of decency, so for God’s sake act like it.”
“To get into character, think about the biggest douchebag frat guy you’ve ever met, imagine him with several million dollars, multiply his money and demeanor by ten, and then act like that guy. Right up until the cops remove your handcuffs and thank you.”
“Before I joined Operation Emancipation, I was just like the dozens of people fuming at Gate A-11 right now. Flight delays would ruin my day. Now? Now I can smile and whistle while walking through a pediatric cancer ward.”
“Whenever out with others, I can do pleasant. I can do content. I’m even able to muster empathy and interest on occasion. It’s not as easy as doing conniving, creepy, sleazy and sinister, but sometimes you just have to leave work at the office.”
“Barrett and Malik just arrived. A former Navy Seal and recovering coke addict, and a former Secret Service agent who got fired for punching a senator in the throat. Finally, some people I can relate to.”
“Maybe Caleb really is the bright and shining star Fynn has described. Maybe he’s self-actualized and stable and moral. Maybe he’s undamaged goods. If so, he’ll never fit in.”
“Human trafficking has a tremendous future. Even brighter than drug trafficking. It’s why many big-time dealers are diversifying—dipping their toes into the sex trade.”
“The reaction I’m looking out for is anger, which is the natural reaction and thus unacceptable. I’m also looking out for sadness, especially tears. Tears are completely normal. This job is not.”
“It’s more serious than I suspected. Caleb isn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict or suffering from PTSD. He isn’t depressed or bipolar or a masochist. He’s a Buddhist. I can overlook a lot of shit in a Jump Team member, but total enlightenment is where I have to draw the line.”
“And here I am, toasting a silver and sapphire blue ceramic container, trusting that the Eden Funeral Home got things right. That there were no mix-ups in the crematorium. I don’t like drinking with strangers.”
Praise for IN WOLVES' CLOTHING
“Levin movingly conveys the horrors of child sex trafficking in this effective thriller. He provides a window into one of the world's darkest underbellies, while somehow managing to insert appropriate lighter moments. This author deserves a wide audience.” —Publishers Weekly
“A riveting, fast-paced thriller. In Wolves' Clothing is an immensely satisfying read by an author with a genuine flair for originality and narrative-driven action. Unabashedly recommended.” —Midwest Book Review
“I highly recommend In Wolves' Clothing to those who love dark crime fiction and thrillers, as well as edgy literary and transgressive fiction— especially Chuck Palahniuk fans.” Lauren Sapala, author of Between the Shadow and Lo and The INFJ Writer
“Truly original and enthralling. Levin's blazing prose and acerbic wit capture the madness and the humanity of working undercover in the darkest corners.” —Radd Berrett, former Jump Team member, Operation Underground Railroad
“A sharp novel, both in action and in style, with fabulous dialogue and a flawed hero you'll love.” —Olga Núñez Miret, Rosie's Book Review Team
“There’s no escaping the adrenaline-packed punch of emotions that conclude with a thrilling ending. An unforgettable novel.” —Paul Falk, NetGalley reviewer
When Gage Adder finds out he has inoperable cancer,
things really start to look up for him. He leaves his
soul-crushing job, joins a nice terminal illness support group,
and takes up an exciting new hobby: serial killing.
Some "killer" lines from SICK TO DEATH:
“Over the previous six months, there was only one thing Gage had become more efficient at than killing… and that was dying.”
“Gage had never cared much for dark comic books. He was simply becoming the main character in one.”
“He never praised me whenever I’d hit a home run in little league, but I kill a few people and all of the sudden I’m his idol.”
“That’s the problem. They potentially have decades and decades ahead of them. A long and bright future. Too much life is getting in the way.”
“It was like picking teams for kickball at recess, only there were three team captains instead of two doing the picking. And getting picked meant you’d soon be dead.”
“Dying was the least of Gage’s problems.”
“Prison? You’re worried about prison? You’re already on death row, my friend.”
“It’s best to discuss mass murder behind closed doors, and Jenna lived the closest.”
“Learning he might not be dying really threw a wrench into Gage’s plans. He didn’t see how he could go on killing if there was a chance he’d go on living.”
“The problem with celebrating a birthday in a hospice center is all the oxygen.”
“Sitting in a hospice room staring at three uncommon zombies, the sickly triplets behind the most popular murder spree of the century.”
“That’s one way to lose your religion. Watching your deity vomit next to some road kill.”
"We’d be dead. Big deal. Death’s not such a long drop these days. Not for us."
Praise for SICK TO DEATH
“A tour de force dark comedy.”—Craig Clevenger, author of cult classics The Contortionist's Handbook and Dermaphoria
“A satirical thriller that says serious things as well as telling a stonking story. It'll appeal to readers who enjoy Dexter's adventures. For me, it ranks alongside Josh Bazell's Beat The Reaper.”—Rowena Hoseason of Murder, Mayhem & More
“Uniquely entertaining and captivating. Levin's prose is playful yet ominous, and the negotiation of this unique spectrum produces some truly great dialog and passages. He takes this story in bold directions that keep the pages turning. Definitely worth checking out!” —Bryce Allen, author of The Spartak Trigger and Idol Threat
“Darkly funny, with literary undertones. Look past the sharp wit and clever turns of phrase to find a novel that speaks to man's purpose in life, escalated by his impending death. When the third act begins to spin out of control, the author clinches it with a clever twist that leaves a very satisfying ending. I'd highly recommend this book to anyone ... except maybe the terminally ill.”—Scott Kelly, author of [sic] and the Keep the Ghost Trilogy
“Greg Levin has done it again with Sick to Death. As in his previous books, Levin weaves dark humor and a human touch into every chapter of this transgressive tale. Highly recommended.”—J.R. Hardenburgh, hard-to-please reader
Suicide should come with a warning label: “Do not try this alone.”
Eli Edelmann never intended on taking over his father's party supply store.
Nor did he ever intend on making a living through mercy killing.
But life doesn't always go according to plan.
Some "killer" lines from THE EXIT MAN:
“I wasn't some monster looking to feast on the weaknesses of salvageable souls. I saw myself as a noble purveyor, a humanist catering to the completely vanquished.”
“I was an equal opportunity executioner.”
“After a year or so of helping people die, I was really starting to reach my full potential.”
“The weekend had been interesting and eventful, but it was time for me to return to my normal life of selling party supplies and lining up suicides.”
“It’s hard enough meeting someone you find beguiling enough to want their contact information. Start nitpicking about a few past indiscretions or a police record and you’ll end up dying sad and alone.”
“A team was forming. And what a pair we were. Collectively we represented multiple consecutive life sentences—me for my illicit side job; her for a single mistake.”
“You get used to offering condolences and shaking hands with family members of the person you helped put in the casket or urn before you.”
“It wasn’t enough sneaking around helping sick people disguise their suicide as natural death. I needed some excitement in my life.”
“She had become an integral part of my life—just not the part with all the death.”
“There’s nothing quite like a perfectly executed suicide to get you feeling right again.”
Praise for THE EXIT MAN
“The sharpest, funniest voice in U.S. literature since Carl Hiaasen. Greg Levin's second novel is a corker.”—If These Books Could Talk
“Imagination-capturing and fresh. I highly recommend reading The Exit Man, but strongly advise: Do not try this at home!” —TNT Reviews
"The Exit Man is black humor at its best. If you like dark humor, buy it now." —D.E. Haggerty, author of Life Discarded and Buried Appearances
“A surprisingly delightful and exciting read. Levin’s deft wrangling of the language lifts the subject matter from macabre to entertaining, from WTF to LOL, from “you’ve got to be kidding me” to “I’m sticking around for the ride.”—Michael Smart, author of the Dead Reckoning, Deadeye, and Deadlight
“Smart dark humor wrapped in an inventive story. Levin handles the topic of assisted suicide with respect while busting conventional thinking with clever humor and quirky characterization. A unique, inventive, and well-written novel.” —Lisa Haneberg, author of the Spy Shop Mysteries
Thank you very much for stopping by. I’m truly humbled by you letting me show you how amazing my books are. Don’t forget to take advantage of the very limited time offer—just 99 cents for each of my three novels! Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.
DO IT!
(For those of you in the UK, you can take advantage of the book sale by clicking here.)
Oh, and tune in next time, when I (expect to) share some exciting news about my upcoming novel, INTO A CORNER.
My novels explore some really dark stuff. Stuff like terminal illness, voluntary euthanasia, serial killing, sex trafficking, drug addiction, dementia. Yes, I have sought professional help. No, it hasn't stopped me from tackling such grim topics. And here’s the thing: When reviewing a novel of mine—whether the book is about a terminally ill man who kills people, or about a man who kills terminally ill people, or about a man who pretends to be a pedophile to catch sex traffickers—most readers mention they found the book funny. Many say they laughed a lot. Some say they peed a little.
Those of you who’ve never read any of my books (and I know who you are—I’m making a list, checking it twice) may be thinking, “What kind of sociopath writes books that make light of such horrific topics and issues? And what kind of sociopaths read such books and laugh enough to need an adult diaper?”
First of all, go easy on my readers—they’re good people. Secondly, allow me to explain:
I don’t make light of people dying or killing. I don’t make light of cancer or the people suffering from it. I don’t make light of sex trafficking or drug addiction or dementia. What I do (or try to, at least) is show how humans—when stuck in the darkest of spaces—will scratch and claw at the walls until even the tiniest speck of light breaks through. Humor is a natural survival mechanism, sonaturally I try to weave some into books about people facing serious adversity. My aim isn't for readers to laugh at the darkness but rather to laugh in it. I never try to force “the funny” (like I sometimes do on my blog or when trying to embarrass my daughter in public). Instead I try to use the funny to appropriately juxtapose the frightening and the fierce.
If you were to ask me what I’m most proud of in my writing career, I’d make no mention of awards or Hollywood options or major book deals (especially not that last one, since I’ve never had a major book deal.) What I’m most proud of are the times when readers—particularly those who’ve personally experienced the same/similar tragedy or peril featured in a book of mine—reach out to say they appreciated how the book’s humor elevated the story rather than detracted from it. How it elicited laughter without disrespecting the dire straits the characters faced. As a writer, there’s only one thing more rewarding than hearing that a reader “got” exactly what you were going for: Hearing that what you were going for made a lasting impact on a reader and helped to ease their suffering, relieve their grief, make their day (or even just their hour or minute).
That’s what novels by the likes of Chuck Palahniuk, Kurt Vonnegut, Elmore Leonard and Sara Gran do for me. Such books break my heart while making me bust a gut. They show humanity at its worst yet somehow manage to restore my faith in it. They cause me to cringe and clench and cheer and laugh in equal measure. A few other authors who effectively pepper their powerful, gritty fiction with humor are Joe Clifford, Rachel Howzell Hall, Nico Walker, and Will Christopher Baer.
If you look at the reviews for any of my novels, you’ll see plenty of readers starting off with something like, “I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into with this book” or “I was a little nervous about cracking this one open,” but what soon follows is usually something like, “I couldn’t believe I was laughing along with and rooting for these characters” or “Hilarious and delightful, though also heart-wrenching.” (For a perfect example of such a review, click HERE.)
I love receiving reviews like those. Not because they’re positive and full of praise (though sure, that’s nice, too); rather because I love it when readers take a chance on books with topics that worry or rattle or frighten them—books they fear may cross the line or trigger painful emotions or memories. And I love it even more when those readers, after diving into such books, walk away rewarded for their risk—feeling not only entertained but also touched and moved. Perhaps even inspired.
Just like how I feel every time I discover a novel that dares to laugh in the dark.
How about you? Have you ever bought or borrowed a book you thought might scar you for life but that ended up moving you to tears and laughter? I’d love to hear about it—please share in the comments section below.