An expert on author platforms recently told me readers love it when writers provide answers to frequently asked questions (FAQs). I’m not usually one to challenge authority, unless I’m conscious, but I’m afraid this expert doesn’t know his ass from a hole in a plot.

Things that are frequently asked are rarely interesting. “Is it hot enough for you?” “How’s the chicken?” “Are you off your meds, Greg?” It’s almost impossible to provide an intriguing response to such common questions. Unless, of course, I’m off my meds.        

So, rather than following the aforementioned “expert’s” advice and doing an FAQ post, I’ve decided instead to do an FAQ post. No, I’m not off my meds – the “F” in the latter acronym stands for “Favorite,” not “Frequently.”

Below are some of the best questions interviewers have posed to me during my six years as a published novelist begging to be interviewed.   

You write about issues that others would normally tiptoe around. Where does this dark humor come from?

First off, I don't see the point of always tiptoeing around touchy topics. Tiptoeing can cause painful cramping. Sometimes it’s better to dance on top of such topics – just as you would atop the grave of an evil nemesis or a gun lobbyist. 

As for where my dark humor comes from, I guess you could say it’s a survival tactic. I don't use dark humor to offend – I use it to defend. Humor is a magnificent weapon, one that, instead of destroying, keeps us from being destroyed. Nietzsche said, "We have art in order to not die of the truth." I feel humor serves the same purpose. In fact, humor – when deftly wielded – is art. 

How has your upbringing influenced your writing?

I had a pretty happy childhood, which normally dooms a writing career. But I managed to overcome all the unconditional love and support and still become a tortured writer of twisted tales. That’s not to say my upbringing didn’t help me at all. I was a very talkative kid (surprise!), and when all my family and friends finally got sick and tired of listening to me, I turned to the written word. Nobody can shut you up when you're alone in a room typing... except for my cat, Dingo, who loves to sit on my laptop keyboard right when the prose is flowing.

Is there an underlying message you wish to relay about basic human nature through your characters?

No, I don’t really try to relay any underlying message or universal truth about basic human nature. I don’t pretend to even understand basic human nature – especially after the last election.

With my latest novel, Sick to Death, my intent was solely to spin a captivating and entertaining yarn. To explore what could happen if some terminally ill folks with an otherwise solid moral compass decided dying gave them a license to kill.

I just hope, in writing such a book, the underlying message isn’t that I should be committed to a mental institution.

Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?

Dr. Seuss infected me at a very young age. I blame him. For everything. Especially whenever I receive a royalty check and can’t decide whether to laugh or to cry. Aggravated people often mutter, “Thanks, Obama.” I often mutter, “Thanks, Seuss.”

What do you consider the most challenging part of writing a novel?

The biggest challenge for me is remembering to feed my cats. Also, remembering to kiss my wife and hug my daughter every now and again. What I’m saying is I really get into the writing process. So much so, I often forget about the living process.

Besides writing, what secret skills do you have?

I can’t say I have any secret skills; if I’m good at something, I make sure to tell everyone all about it. I will share one of my more surprising skills, though: Freestyle rapping. You probably wish I were kidding, but I’m not. I suffer from chronic hip-hopilepsy. I contracted it when I was about fourteen. At least I’ve learned to apply it to my writing career. For example, here’s a rap about being an author:

My hopes are set high, my prose I let fly

Don't wanna be a writer who just mostly gets by

I wanna be a writer getting checks that let my

chauffeur and my butler go and get my neckties

I’ll give it my best try, I've authored this rap storm

You might be like, "What's an author doing a rap for?"

I'm hoping it will elevate my authoring platform

I have a couple readers but I need to attract more

Your previous book, The Exit Man, was quite successful. Did you ever fear that Sick to Death would suffer from second novel syndrome?

Not at all, mainly because Sick to Death is my third novel. The reason you didn’t know that is because my first novel was very much a first novel. I did things smart – started with a mediocre book so that all my subsequent ones would seem decent.

In all seriousness, as an author there’s no point in worrying if your latest book will live up to those that preceded it. If you’re writing scared, you’re not “bringing it.” And readers today demand you bring it.

Tell us a bit about your writing habits. (Granted, this isn’t a very intriguing question; however, my response is astonishing.) 

I’m kind of like Rain Man with my writing. Every day from 8:30 a.m. till 3:00 p.m., yeah. 8:30 till 3:00, gotta write, yeah.

I’m EXTREMELY fortunate to have a wife who not only allows me to write full-time, she insists on it. When I speak of getting a real job, she beats me. I used to have a real job (a writing job, actually, but not a particularly exciting one), and my wife beat me until I quit and focused entirely on fiction. I’m the luckiest victim of domestic abuse alive. (There’s that dark sense of humor again. #SorryNotSorry.)

If you could choose one character from your latest book to spend a day with, who would it be? And where would you take him/her?

Funny you should ask. Not too long ago I tweeted, “I spend all day with my protagonists, but I wouldn't want to be seen with any of them.” Hmmm, I guess if I had to actually hang out with one of the characters from Sick to Death, I’d choose Gage, the main character – even though this might piss of Jenna, the second most important character in the book and someone you really don’t want to piss off.

I’d probably take Gage out for a couple of drinks, then to a Trump speech and just see what happens. Pretty sure after that, the whole world would know about Gage and my book. Call it a PR stunt. Thank me later. 

What would you say is your greatest strength as a writer?

I’d say it’s my ability to bring humor to controversial and dark topics while simultaneously revealing the heart and humanity of my protagonists. I love getting readers to root for a sociopath or a serial killer or just a plain loser, and getting them to laugh and cry while doing it. 

What are you working on right now?

A bourbon, neat. Oh, and my fourth novel. It centers around a guy who serves on an elite team that goes undercover across the globe to rescue victims of child sex trafficking.

The story was inspired by a humanitarian trip my wife took to Cambodia in 2015. And while the book is technically a dark comedy, I assure you there is no making light of what the girls who are rescued go through. Instead, the humor comes from how the undercover “pedophiles” cope (and struggle to cope) with the extremely challenging and critical missions they carry out, and the odd role they must play during those missions.

As part of my research, I interviewed a lead member of an actual undercover rescue team. When he found out what kind of writer I was, he said, “I’m glad to hear it. There’s no way one can survive what we do without a dark sense of humor.” I aim for the book to do right by him and all the other people who dedicate their lives to liberating victims of child sex slavery. Without depressing the hell out of everyone who reads it.  

If you have a question for me about anything even remotely related to writing life (and death), by all means post it in the comment section below. If I can’t come up with a good response, I’ll have my ghostwriter do so.  

Not too long ago, I wrote a piece about my all-time favorite authors of dark comedic fiction. In twelve days, I’ll meet the man who’s number one on that list. 

Chuck Palahniuk.

For those unfamiliar with Palahniuk, he wrote Fight Club (yes, it was an amazing novel before it was an amazing movie) as well as Survivor, Choke, Invisible Monsters and numerous other brilliant best-selling books. He’s not only my favorite author of dark humor; he’s my favorite author period. (Well, living author, anyway – it’s hard to compete with dead Russians.)

So, when I read that Chuck was going to be leading a ten-session writing workshop (something authors of his magnitude almost NEVER do), and that only a handful of applicants would be selected to participate, I did what any serious writer and Palahniuk fan would do: I screeched like a schoolgirl. Then I knocked over my wife and daughter en route to my writing nook to get started on my application.

A week later I received an email from the writing institute that’s sponsoring the workshop, letting me know I’d been accepted. The message even included a personal note of praise from Chuck himself about the writing sample I submitted. After reading the email and note six times, I did what any serious writer and Palahniuk fan would do: I soiled myself.

On Monday, February 27, I’ll be flying out to Portland (from my home in Austin) to join fifteen other extremely fortunate writers for the initial session of the Writing Wrong Workshop, where the master of modern trangressive fiction will encourage us to challenge conventional writing rules and, I think, fight each other in underground brawls.  

As honored and as thrilled as I am, I do have some concerns. My biggest concern – aside from delayed or cancelled flights causing me to miss any of the workshop sessions – is meeting Chuck… and doing something that causes him to want to fight me in an underground brawl. Few things can ruin a writer’s confidence or career more than getting punched in the face by an author they idolize. Now, some of you may be thinking that blogging about how giddy I am about the workshop would be reason enough for Chuck to want to punch me, but that’s ludicrous. Chuck is never going to read my blog.

To help ensure I don’t do anything to annoy or irk my idol during the workshop, I’ve come up with eight Fight Club-style rules for me to follow:

1) The first rule of Write Club is you do not talk about Write Club. (Except when blogging, or chatting with family and friends, or standing next to a total stranger in the grocery store checkout line, or sitting next to one on a flight to Write Club.)

2) The second rule of Write Club is you do not try to make clever references or allusions to Fight Club (or any other of Chuck’s books) during Write Club. (I did, however, reference the workshop on Twitter two days ago and included in the tweet, “I am Jack’s unbridled anticipation.” Risky, I know, but Chuck himself re-tweeted it, so I think I’m good.)

3) The third rule of Write Club is you do not bring all your copies of Chuck’s books to Write Club for him to sign. (At least not until you see another Write Club participant try it without getting punched.)

4) The fourth rule of Write Club is you do not wear to Write Club any apparel featuring anything related to Chuck or his books. (Nobody likes a teacher’s pet, least of all the teacher – especially when the teacher’s Chuck. So, I’ve agreed to hand over both my Fight Club T-shirt (see image) and my Survivor hoodie to my wife before I head to the airport each week. It’s the only way.)

5) The fifth rule of Write Club is you must correctly pronounce Chuck’s surname every time you say it. (It’s PAULA-nick. NOT pa-LA-nick, which is how 99.9% of people outside of Chuck’s immediate family pronounce it – including me up until I heard him interviewed on NPR a little over a year ago. It was shocking; almost like finding out you’re adopted.)  

6) The sixth rule of Write Club is, when Chuck enters the room for the first time, you don’t soil yourself. (I will do my absolute best to respect this rule, but will be wearing an adult diaper to the first session just in case.)

7) The seventh rule of Write Club is, when Chuck rips your writing to shreds, you do not openly sob. (I will do my absolute best to respect this rule, but will bring an extra adult diaper for my tears just in case.)  

8) The eighth and final rule of Write Club is do not forget you belong in Write Club. You earned this. You've GOT this. (Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change my underwear. Again.)

The legendary author, poet and alcoholic Charles Bukowski once said, “Without literature, life is hell.” Sure, he was likely drunk and didn’t remember saying it, but that doesn’t make the quote any less profound.

Great works of fiction entertain, inspire, educate and heal. They have the power to transform not only the individual reader but also entire societies – or at least they did back when entire societies used to read.

I have personally experienced the transformative power of books. To Kill a Mockingbird taught me not to be so quick to judge others. Animal Farm showed me how power corrupts. And Fight Club made me realize just how important it is I stay on my meds.

Call me an idealist, but I think fiction can pave the way to human salvation. I think it can alleviate if not eliminate most of the psychosocial and emotional issues holding us back and making us miserable. Now you may be asking, “Why not encourage people to read non-fiction to fix what ails us? Why not urge everyone to pick up a self-help book to bring about global enlightenment?” I’ll tell you why not: Because I don’t write books like that. And also because nobody wants to be seen reading something with a title like, So, You’re a Bigot or The Idiot’s Guide to Being Better.

Below I’ve made a list of all the things that are probably wrong with you as a human, each followed by several novels that can set you right. Read the books you feel most apply to you (just read all of them, to be safe), and report back to me in a year or so to discuss how much better a person you’ve become as a result.

If you are DEPRESSED, read:

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon  

The Princess Bride by William Goldman

The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick 

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

If you are ANXIOUS, read:

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss

If you are RACIST, read:

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

If you are HOMOPHOBIC, read:

A Boy’s Own Story by Edmund White

Far from You by Tess Sharpe

Luna by Julie Anne Peters

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan

If you are ISLAMOPHOBIC, read:

The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid

Alif the Unseen by G. Willow Wilson

The Girl in the Tangerine Scarf by Mohja Kahf

Native Believer by Ali Eteraz

If you are MISOGYNISTIC, read:

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P. by Adelle Waldman

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

If you are COMPLACENT/APATHETIC, read:

1984 by George Orwell

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

Orxy and Crake by Margaret Atwood

Neuromancer by William Gibson

If you are just plain MEAN, read:

Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

Wonder by R.J. Palacio

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

If you HAVEN'T READ MY NOVELS (this is a global problem), read:

The Exit Man

Sick to Death

Now, I realize some of you may disagree with – or be puzzled by – a few of my book choices. If so, you’re welcome to express your thoughts/opinions in the comment section below. Just be aware I’m welcome to delete said thoughts/opinions if they are totally valid and make me question my competence and self-proclaimed literary expertise.

What books would you like to add? What CATEGORIES? What makes me think anybody stuck around long enough to even read these questions?       

I’m very fortunate to have amazingly loyal and dedicated readers. (I’d mention them all by name, but both requested anonymity.) Whenever I come out with a new novel, these are the folks who not only buy it and actually read it, but also let me know how much they enjoyed it even if they didn’t. This is an author’s dream.

Some of my readers have gone so far as to contact me and tell me they believe I’m going to hit the big-time. A few have even asked me what they can do to help make that happen. This is an author’s sex dream.

If there’s an author you really would like to see succeed – such as one whose blog you’re currently reading – there are a number of ways you can support them. Don’t worry, when I say “support,” I’m not talking about offering them free room and board and a monthly stipend. Everyone knows that’s the job of an author’s parents or significant other.

Below are just a few of the things you can do (aside from just buying their book) to back an author whose work you feel deserves a larger readership:

Spread the word via social media. Sure, you can tell people about an author in person or via phone, text or email, but such personalized and thoughtful communication is dumb. Much more efficient and effective is to blast everybody you know or almost know all at once via an exuberant public shout-out to the author on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.  

Give the author’s book(s) as gifts. I don’t know them, but your friends and family members are skeptical and cheap. Your online raving may draw their attention to your new favorite author and perhaps result in a handful of book sales, but many of your peeps will need you to pay them to read. Or at least pay for them to read. Maybe both. So whenever their birthday or Christmas or Hanukkah or Groundhog’s Day rolls around, give them a copy of one of my… er, I mean the author you support’s books.  

Rate and review the author’s book(s) on Amazon (and other sites). This is perhaps the best way to help out an author, aside from putting them in your will. A four- or five-star rating and a rave (yet honest) review on Amazon not only compels like-minded readers to buy a book, it begets additional positive reviews, which can lead to the book being included in “Recommended for You” emails Amazon sends out to countless other like-minded readers, which, in turn leads to more sales and more reviews and more recommendations, which… okay, you get the idea. (Note: As powerful as Amazon is, don’t limit your reviews to just there; it takes little effort to copy and paste your Amazon review to other sites where voracious readers hang out, such as Goodreads, Barnes & Noble, and lonelycatladies.com.)

Ask your local bookstore to carry the author’s book(s). If the author you’re eager to support is of the “indie” variety, chances are the one bookstore left standing in your town doesn’t carry their book(s). But the store very well might if you ask them to, especially if you make the clerk feel unqualified and stupid. “WHAT? How’s it possible you’ve never heard of [insert name of your author]? How’d you even GET this job – is your grandfather’s surname Barnes or Noble?” Once the clerk caves and the books arrive at the store a few days later, sit and read a copy in a high-traffic area of the store. Be sure to make lots of noises and gestures that express how enthralling and entertaining and moving the book is. Don’t be afraid to spray water out of your mouth or snot out of your nose while laughing or crying uncontrollably. To help draw even more attention to you and what you’re perusing, consider reading the book while naked. 

Get a tattoo of one (or more) of the author’s book covers. There are few better ways to get lots of eyes on a book you love than to have its cover image needled into your skin – provided said image appears on a highly visible part of your body. So shoot for your arm, lower leg, neck or face, unless you dance at a strip club, work as a porn star, or are Mark Wahlberg, in which case anywhere the cover image will fit with minimal risk of infection is fine. 

Commit a newsworthy crime and say the author’s novel compelled you to do it. I’ve saved the most obvious method for last. Everybody knows there’s no faster way to catapult an author to international stardom than to commit a highly visible Class-A felony and blame your actions on the author’s mesmerizing prose. As a novelist, what I wouldn’t give to have one of my two fans kidnap a movie star and scream out the title of one of my books on CNN just before getting shot by a SWAT team member. Now you know what I wish for every birthday as I blow out the candles.

What are some of the interesting ways you support the authors you like? More importantly, where are you thinking of putting a tattoo of one of my book covers?  

It being the holiday season, I wanted to write a piece that captured the joyous spirit of giving that awakens in everyone this time of year. And I figured what better way to do that than to talk about my favorite serial killer.    

Gage Adder – the terminally ill main character in my novel Sick to Death – is likely to be remembered for all the people he assaults and poisons in the book. And that’s a shame because when he’s not busy maiming or killing, he’s somewhat of a saint, carrying out the types of random acts of kindness and generosity this world could use much more of. Take away the vengeful cane beatings and the cyanide, and Gage is pretty much Santa Claus.  

The point is, you can learn a lot about kindness from a murderer. Following are a few excerpts from Sick to Death that scream “Christmas Spirit!”

Then it dawned on him. There were ways to be thoughtful and giving without actually having to interact with others. Gage was fully prepared to give niceness a shot, but he wasn’t yet ready to let go of Sartre’s infamous notion that hell is other people. Thus, he spent the remainder of the day being anonymously altruistic.

He used his debit card to add time to six expired parking meters.

He sent an arrangement of roses, hyacinth and ranunculus to Charlene – the receptionist at his office whose husband had recently left her.

He sent two dozen donuts to the staff at FutureBright – a local charity dedicated to empowering at-risk youth – and he donated three hundred dollars to the organization via their website.   

He picked up the tab for not one but two tables at the diner where he had lunch, asking the waitress to be discreet about his actions and leaving the establishment before the patrons – five in all – were informed their meals had been paid for. He left the waitress a fifty-percent tip on the total of his and the other two bills.

And for his closing act, he called the pediatric cancer unit at Carrington Medical Center, asked a nurse how many children were currently inpatients, and then ordered forty-three stuffed animals to be delivered to the unit the following day.

***

Two broken ribs for the guy kicking the homeless man in a back alley and bombarding him with racial epithets.

A thousand dollars in a blank envelope for the neighbors whose five-year old daughter’s body was found in a river two states over.

A cracked cranium for the coke-addled brat who plowed his Beemer into six people on a sidewalk but walked due to daddy’s legendary lawyer.

A boatload of books, games and DVDs for everyone in the Pediatric Burn Unit at Pearson Medical Center.

Brutes and creeps kept showing up bleeding and battered at hospitals and urgent care clinics. Needy individuals, families and organizations continued getting pleasant surprises from an anonymous stranger.

When Gage wasn’t knocking a white supremacist’s nose to the side of his face with a cane, he was handing azaleas to an elderly woman in the park. It was as if he had some strange new kind of bipolar disorder, one that caused him to rapid-cycle between breaking bones and bestowing gifts.

***

His most notable act occurred the morning of the tenth day, when he saw a woman sobbing as she walked out of a veterinary clinic holding a dog leash. The look on her face – like her entire family had just been sent to a gas chamber.

Holding the door open for the woman as she exited was an employee of the clinic, a teenage girl who looked almost as despondent as the woman herself.

“Don’t worry about the bill right now, Miss Morris,” said the girl. “Take all the time you need.”

Gage and the girl watched as the woman staggered down the sidewalk, clutching the leash. After the girl closed the door and returned to work, Gage approached the woman. He gently rested his hand on her shoulder.

“Please,” he said, “allow me to get you a taxi, Miss.”

She gave Gage a confused look. “I drove here,” she said, continuing to cry.

“It’s okay. You’re in no condition to drive. I’d like to pay for your taxi home, and I’ll also give you money to get a taxi back to your car later.”

“Who are you?” asked the woman.

“Nobody you know, just somebody who’d like to help,” said Gage. “Is it okay if I hail you a cab now?”

“I live a good fifteen minutes away,” said the woman. “A taxi will cost about twenty-five or thirty dollars. I can’t let you pay all that.”

“Please, it’s no problem,” said Gage, who fished his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and took out three tens and two twenties. “This should cover your ride home and back,” he said as he presented the cash to her.

“You’re very kind, but I couldn’t possibly—”

“Yes, you could. You can.”

The woman smiled through the sobbing and gave Gage a hug.

“Now let’s get you a taxi,” said Gage. He guided the woman toward the curb by her elbow and raised his free hand high. When a taxi pulled up and stopped in front of them about ten seconds later, Gage opened the rear passenger side door for the woman and helped her into the yellow sedan.

“Please make sure this woman gets home safely,” Gage said to the driver. “She’ll tell you the address.” Before Gage closed the door, the woman grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.

“Thank you,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “Thank you so much.”

“You take care of yourself, Miss,” said Gage. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

Gage shut the door and waved to the sobbing woman as the taxi drove off. He then turned around and walked into the veterinary clinic.

“Good morning,” said the girl behind the front desk. It was the same girl who’d held the door for the woman earlier. “How can I help you?”

“That woman who left here crying a few minutes ago, I’m assuming her dog didn’t make it?”

“I’m sorry,” said the girl, “but who are you? A relative or friend of hers?”

“No, no,” said Gage. “I just saw how sad she was and would like to help in some way.”

“Well, there’s not much you can do,” the girl replied. “Her Golden Retriever is being euthanized as we speak.”

“That’s what I figured,” said Gage. “I overheard you say something about her bill before. I would like to pay it.”

This holiday season (and beyond), let’s each try to be a little more like Gage – minus all the, you know, homicide and stuff.

Happy WhateverTheHellYouCelebrate!

Hope to see you again here at the blog in 2017.