Photo by John Geiger

Richard Thomas is a busy man.  He’s a husband and father of twins.  He’s a graphic designer.  He helps moderate a writing workshop at The Cult, one of the most popular author websites in the world.  He’s helped edit zines and magazines alike.  He’s pursuing his MFA in Fiction.  He’s part of a group of up-and-coming writers who each year help each other through the hardships of writing a novel.  And yeah, he’s also a writer whose debut novel, a neo-noir thriller called Transubstantiate, was published in July 2010, the flagship novel of the upstart independent press Otherworld Publications.  High on life and hell-bent on sharing in the revelry of being part of a new movement of fresh voices in the literary world, Richard stopped by Oxyfication to share a little bit about himself, how his debut novel Transubstantiate came to be, and what it’s like when one of your literary heroes tells you that your writing reminds them of their literary heroes.

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Take us to the beginning, and through the years leading up to Transubstantiate.  When did you start writing?  When did writing become something more, that you wanted to pursue professionally?

I’ve always loved reading, since the 6th grade, when I won a contest for most books read (boys). I wrote a lot of papers in high school, but not any fiction, didn’t really have room in my schedule, college prep. It wasn’t until college, and really, my junior and senior years when I took a fantasy and science fiction class with Dr. Edgar Chapman, and we watched Blade Runner, that I started thinking about the possibilities. I took several creative writing classes, some independent studies that involved writing, and I got really excited about writing. My first story that I published was at Bradley University, in the literary journal, Broadside.

After I graduated and moved to Chicago, I worked at a country club up in Glencoe (there are some stories there for sure) and eventually moved downtown. I lived at 666 N. Dearborn, and again, there were some wild stories there. I remember typing away on my old Remington Quiet-Riter (that’s a typewriter) and sending out stories. It was so slow and painful, typing, copying, mailing. It was devastating. I got involved with other things – having fun, living the bohemian lifestyle, chasing girls, and kind of gave up on writing for a long time. I got sucked into the world of advertising, where I’ve been for 15 years. Sure, I was the fiction and poetry curator at Around the Coyote, a festival in Wicker Park, years later, and I even wrote some non-fiction for some indie magazines (Subnation and 3rdWord) but I didn’t have the focus, the desire.

It wasn’t until much later, about four years ago, that I was reborn at the Cult, studying with Craig Clevenger, Monica Drake, and Max Barry, and I felt like I had any talent, and finally started to believe in myself. Better late than never, right? This got me to the place where I felt like I should pursue an MFA (that’s real money, folks) and my wife got behind me, saw that I was serious, and I started to get work published, started to break through.

The only thing I can say is that for years I’ve been in advertising, and I’ve had success, won awards, landed multi-million dollar accounts, but it’s never felt right, and I’ve always hit a ceiling and stopped. The minute I started pushing in a different direction, towards writing, it felt right, I had some positive experiences, I started to break through, and that’s when I knew that I was doing the right thing.

Every book starts somewhere.  An idea.  A sentence.  What is the genesis of Transubstantiate?  Did you always plan on it being a book, or did it naturally evolve into one?

Well, it all started with the Max Barry intensive at The Cult.  We were given the assignment to write four introductions to four novels that we’d always wanted to write.  Anything at all.  So, I think I did a horror intro, science-fiction, neo-noir, and literary.  I wanted to title each of the sections with a word that was really unique and that I’d never heard before.  Transubstantiate was one of those words, vainglorious was another.  I poured over the internet, lists of unique words, all kinds of stuff.  That was how I came across transubstantiate.

The intensive was to write a novel, so starting with those four openings, I decided to expand the cast of Transubstantiate to seven. I’m not sure how I got to seven. I think early on (I was just looking at some old notes) I played with the idea of the seven deadly sins. So while those four openings turned into Jacob (literary), X (horror), Jimmy (SF), and Gordon (neo-noir), I added in Marcy, Roland and Assigned later. If you look at the seven characters, you can kind of see how they match up with those sins. Jacob was sloth, Marcy was lust, etc.

Though at times rooted in the fantastical and based in the future, Transubstantiate is very real in the dark side of reality sense of the word: people under surveillance, population control experiments, etc.  You’ve classified the novel as neo-noir, which is a sort of all-encompassing genre/movement, but would you say that there is also a social science fiction element to it?

For sure. I wish I could write more SF, I just feel like I’m not smart enough to write true SF, that it’d have to be soft SF. My math skills, science, well, they’re not my strengths. Although, I am toying with the idea of writing something “steampunkish”. I’m fascinated by the idea of moving so far into the future that we have all of this technology that we (in 2010) see as the “future” (such as ray guns, teleportation, time travel, etc.) and then everything fails. We shut down everything, it collapses, no more tv, internet, flying cars etc. And we regress to the survival mode of hundreds of years ago – fire, water, air, wheels, steam, gears, etc. I loved King’s Dark Tower series, and I’m reading some steampunk – China Mieville, Jeff VanderMeer, Cherie Priest, etc. I’ve always been drawn to SF, grew up reading Bradbury and Heinlein, but I’m still learning about it. I love Vonnegut too. So those guys are a bit of an influence, and that comes through in Transubstantiate. I try not to be too preachy.

Having seven different narrators is a daunting task both on the writer and potentially the reader, having to keep track of what everyone’s doing/saying/etc.  How difficult was that for you, how did you keep track of everyone, and did you ever have any apprehension about going that route?

It was tough. And I don’t plot either. So it was a matter of doing a couple of things to keep me in line.

First, I wrote every day for about an hour at work. I closed the door, wolfed down a sandwich, and then wrote. Each day it was a different character. Monday was Jacob, Tuesday was Marcy, etc. I’d only write maybe 500-700 words. Over time those expanded a bit.

But I’d think about the characters. While I was working, or on my commute to work, whatever that day was, I’d be thinking “Okay, Jacob, he’s in the bookstore, he’s waiting for the new arrival, and he has a secret. What happens next?” By the time I got to work, and to my lunch hour, I was ready to go. It just spilled out.

You may notice that for a long time I keep the characters apart, maybe four chapters, I think. I didn’t have a problem writing from the different POVs, in my head I could hear their voices, but I wasn’t sure how to handle it when they got together. I didn’t want to have two perspectives on the same situation, so most of the time it was a time-baton, where the scene gets handed off from one character to another. For example, early on, Marcy is going to see X, to have sex. I have it from X’s POV first, and I leave it about where she enters the gate of his compound. I pick it up with her, on her way, and it goes from the gate to the house and the sex.

For sure it was intimidating. And from most of the reactions I’ve gotten, I did a good enough job. But I’ll always worry that I didn’t do enough. Should I have given Jimmy more of an accent? Should I have made Gordon’s voice more fragmented?

And you’ll also see that every three chapters I do something as well. So not only do I have seven POVs, but Chapter Three is a flashback. Chapter Six starts out THIRD PERSON (where the previous entries are all 1st person) everyone in one place, then does a flashforward. Chapter Nine is all correspondence – letters, postcards, e-mails. Chapter Twelve is everyone in one room.

Maybe I’m insane, I’m not sure. I took some risks for sure, but looking back I can’t say that this could have been anything else. The only other thought I ever had was to really expand this, make it almost twice as long, but in the end I didn’t want that. And, there’s always a possibility of a sequel.

It’s interesting that you said you didn’t want to have two perspectives on the same situation because the part where all of the characters come together and find out about their new opportunity that’s exactly what you’re doing.  Did you think this scene was necessary for the reader so they’d know where these people came from, how they got together, or was more the natural progression of things for these characters?

I think you’re talking about chapter twelve, where they’re all in the same room together (and I don’t want to spoil anything here) about to be sent out to their new lives. Yes, in that scene, I did have all seven perspectives on the same place and time. BUT…I hand that baton off, from one person to the next, moving forward in time, no overlap, really. AND it’s much later in the book, chapter twelve, so by then, I had a little more confidence in what I was doing. Now, if you’re talking about chapter SIX, where they are all tied to the posts around the fire, well…it was the plot, I think. I felt like I had to get them together so they could understand what was going on. We kind of figured it out together, what was happening. As they are talking to each other, and not everyone is happy to be there, or to see each other, I was figuring out what was happening. And again, it’s six chapters in, so I was just starting to get a feel, some confidence, and knew that I was going to do a flash-forward there.

You spoke a lot in other interviews about the influence of the writing intensives that you took over at The Cult; the kind words you received from Craig Clevenger, the support you got from Stephen Graham Jones, and so on.  Did you ever find studying with some of your literary heroes a daunting task, or perhaps, and especially with Transubstantiate, did it maybe help give you the confidence one needs to actually write a novel?

You don’t often get a chance to connect with an artist that you love and respect. How often does a painter or musician or writer get to talk to somebody that they look up to, somebody they have studied and enjoyed? It doesn’t happen very often. Not every author that has taught at the Cult has been somebody I’ve read, but certainly Craig and Monica are two people I’ve read. Max, I was familiar with his work, but wanted to work with him because he’s successful, and it was the first novel intensive I saw at the Cult. I learned a lot from Max, more than I thought I would, since our styles are so different.

I was very nervous to work with Craig. I had a feeling that he’d be nice, that he wouldn’t be cruel in his criticism, but he is nothing if not sincere. He doesn’t blow smoke, he finds something in your work that is WORKING and he tries to focus on your strengths, while showing you where you can improve. At least that was my experience with him. The first story I sent in, I was sick to my stomach. When he compared some of it to one of HIS idols, Steve Erickson, I was blown away. He’s very smart, but he finds a way to bring it down to a level where you can digest it. He’s brilliant, really. I hope he keeps publishing, and more often, as I can’t wait to read more of his work.

Monica, she’s such a nice person. She has gone out of her way to help me, in the intensive, and in the real world, at AWP and other places. She really helped me to get over my fears, to treat myself as an actual writer. I think I’ve published every story I wrote in her intensive. She gets the best out of you.

Max got me over the paralyzing fear of trying to write a novel. He got me to write with a maximum word count per day instead of a minimum, and that reverse psychology really worked for me. He got me to see the story only as far as the headlights of the car would allow. I don’t think I could have written Transubstantiate without his advice, his support, and his confidence.

Later, I came back to the intensives for a fourth one, the SECOND Clevenger intensive. That was where I think I really started to write well. I’d learned so much in the process. I wasn’t scared of Craig any more, I considered him a peer, a friend, and when he pushed me to start sending out my story “Stillness” saying it was ready, perfect, I took a deep breath and got over my fears. That story got rejected a good dozen times, but I was aiming at the top, Clarkesworld, F&SF, only the best places. When it got accepted at Cemetery Dance for their anthology Shivers VI (out in September 2010) I was thrilled. Shocked, but thrilled. That’s a 1% acceptance market. Craig had been right. And because of people like him, and Monica, and Max, and so many others, at the Cult, the Velvet, and Write Club, I had the confidence to push myself. I’ve been lucky.

Stephen has also been so very cool. I’ve never had the opportunity to study with him, I missed that intensive, as well as Baer’s, but he’s been very supportive, gave me a blurb (as did Craig), and every time I’ve met him, at various AWPs he’s been so very generous. He’s hilarious too. Not to mention one of the most talented, and prolific, writers I know. He’s really what I’d like to become. He writes literary, as well as genre, has no problem defending people like Stephen King, he writes and publishes all the time, teaches, does panels, and never apologizes. Some day I’d like to be where he is. I don’t know if it’ll happen, but he’s really an inspiration to me.

Write Club also seems to have had a major influence in the writing and editing of Transubstantiate.  How important do you think having a collective of like-minded contemporaries was to the process, and how do you think it helped shape the final product?

Write Club has been a huge influence on me. Without this support group, I don’t think I could have written Transubstantiate. I won’t start naming names, because I’m sure I’d leave people out, but they know who they are. It’s the same core group of writers that shows up at the Cult, the Velvet, GoodReads, Facebook, etc. and they’re all so talented, so giving. I can’t stress how important it is to have a support network like this. These people, they tell me how it is. They don’t pull punches. We fight over scenes, over endings, word choices. They keep me on my toes. My work is much better because of them. These are the men and women that take the time to read my work, to put 100% of their mind, and heart, and soul, into making me better, into telling me when I’m on my game, helping me to fix what isn’t working, and when I get work out there, they are the first to say congratulations, to pimp me to their friends, to retweet, and post on FB, write up reviews, give me 4-5 stars at Amazon or GoodReads, etc. And not because they feel they have to, but because that’s honestly how they feel. Again, I’m lucky. And not to mention that these guys are very talented, and really deserve to be published and put out there more. I know that they’ll all succeed as well. I’m so happy to see them all getting book deals and putting their stories out there.

Right now I’m workshopping Disintegration, my next book. It’s a neo-noir, transgressive thriller. I think it’s my best work to date. But we’re fighting over the ending, they’re challenging me on scenes, on choices I’ve made. Not to be jerks, not to push their own agendas, but to help me to make this the best it can be. When one of us succeeds, we all succeed. It’d be easy to be defensive, to say “Screw you, I know what I’m doing,” but these guys are smart, they speak from their hearts, from experience. In the end, I have to write my story, I have to stay true to my vision, but if they can help me to make it better, more honest, more true, then I do it, I make those changes, I pump it up, I push myself. And to be honest? If I was alone, I probably wouldn’t do that.

You’ve listed some influences, from Stephen King, to Chuck Palahniuk, to LOST.  In Transubstantiate the main characters are on an island, survivors of a great plague, and Jacob, one of the characters who works in a bookstore is giving one of his customers Choke to read.  Thematically everything works, but are these sort of vehicles strictly for helping to advance the story, or were you having a little fun, paying homage with little nuggets, while at the same time maybe making a connection with the readers who have like interests/influences as you?

I was having a little fun. And paid homage to some of my influences. I do think that fans of my work will also, most likely, have read similar works, and if not, then maybe they’ll pick them up. You’ll notice I also take a cheap shot at Dean Koontz, somebody I read for a long time, an author I really enjoyed in my youth (Whispers, Phantoms) but kind of failed me in his recent books, many disappointing books over the last ten years (aside from the Odd Thomas books) so much so that I’ve stopped reading him.

There are also a lot of “Easter Eggs” buried in the book. I had a lot of throw away names, and instead of just grabbing a name out of the air, I decided to use the names of people I know, other writers, friends from the Cult, Velvet, Write Club, etc.

The Dean Koontz blast was loud and clear.  In my opinion writing should have more writer-on-writer, prose-on-bros crime, ala rap battles.  If you were going to go after someone–aside from Koontz–who would you set your sights on?

Oh boy. I hate to slam anyone, because I know how hard it is to be successful as a writer, so really, Koontz is a brilliant guy in some way, he’s a millionaire for sure. I’ve never been a fan of Pynchon. There are a lot of literary writers and critics that I wish would just get off their high horses and relax, admit they enjoy genre work, and stop criticizing people like Stephen King. I’ve seen SGJ do several panels, and he’s always defending King. He’s the man. I wish I could be meaner, but really, Koontz is probably one of the few authors that I’ve read a lot of, and over time, has gotten worse, and really let me down. I took that personally. I’ve read Dan Brown. I’ve read worse. Dan Brown has a place. If they’re really bad, I’ve probably never picked them up. If they’re really good, then they’ve never let me down.

To what you said about someone like Stephen King not getting respect among critics, he’ll never have a shortage of readers.  In a perfect world one would like to have commercial success and praise from critics, but it rarely seems to work that way.  With Transubstantiate and beyond, what’s more important to you as a writer?

Wow, tough question. If I had commercial success, I could live and work as a writer, which would be fantastic. But if I felt like I was writing to the lowest common denominator, I wouldn’t be writing with my heart, my visions. If I had some sort of critical success, but never made any money, and could never be a writer full-time, well, that would be somewhat disappointing too. I’ve thought about it. In this era of mass market work, having to write towards an audience, having to make a story marketable, it does seem that a lot of publishers want to take out everything that makes a story unique, a voice different. They don’t want it to be different, they want it the same, they want a proven story, to a proven market. Ideally, I’d like to write work that is interesting, critically successful (whatever that means, since a lot of critics are closed-minded, of a literary bent ONLY) and also something the masses can enjoy. I would like to think that I write on two levels: a story that can be read, understood, something fast and exciting AND something that has layers, imagery, depth, a second and third layer that can give you more than just the story, but things to think about, to contemplate after it’s all over. I hope that Transubstantiate stays with people. I don’t want to be the literary equivalent of fast food. While some have called King that, I don’t think he is at all.

If Transubstatiate had a corresponding “Booktrack” that readers would listen to to enhance the experience what songs/artists would be on it?

The one album that I listened to more than anything else while writing it was IN RAINBOWS by Radiohead. It’s got a lot going on – fast paced songs, slow moody tunes, a bit of the surreal there. That’s a good one to play with it. It’ll seep into the background, and then, you’ll hear a couple words, and it’ll all make sense, connect. Put it on. REBOOT.

I read  that Transubstantiate is the third book you’ve written.  What happened with the first two?  And what did writing them help with the writing of Transubstantiate?

Oh, man. I was hoping it would be ten or twenty years before I got this question.

The first book is called Remembering and it’s terrible. I workshopped it in my first Write Club, and, wow, it was bad. I have to thank Bret Fowler, a guy I’ve gotten to know at WC and the Cult, and just met for the first time here in Chicago recently, we did a reading together in Wicker Park a couple weeks ago. He really helped me to understand the difference between show and tell. I also realized that this first book was really preachy, just terrible. It was about a guy who gets all of the “answers” to the questions that haunt us all, directly from GOD. Bad book, it’ll never see the light of day. BUT I did learn a lot, what NOT to do, how hard it is to write a novel. Every writer has to write a first book, and most of them are horrible, should be thrown away. You get to say all of the things you want to say, get all of your “messages” out there, and then, throw it away. Seriously.

The second book is called The Fool, and it’s a memoir. Who knows, maybe some day it’ll happen. I actually got an offer on it many years ago, but it all fell apart. Basically, I had a lot of adventures when I was young – sex and drugs and rock n’ roll, you know. And I had all of these stories about people dying at my feet, acid trips and hallucinations, leaving my body, wild underground sex clubs. There were a good twelve stories that I found myself telling people over the years. I’m sure my wife, Lisa, would be happy if this never saw the light of day. Who knows. Maybe when I’m rich and famous I’ll get the right offer.

So, technically, yes, Transubstantiate is my third book. Disintegration will be my fourth. But I really consider Transubstantiate my first.

If nothing else, I learned how hard it was to write a novel, how long it takes to write 60, 70, 80 thousand words. It’s a big commitment. You should probably write short stories for awhile first, learn to master plot, character, setting, etc. all of the basics over a shorter span first. I don’t think I could have done anything but fail with that first book. It was way too soon, I was wasn’t ready. So, now, I know what it takes. I hope to keep writing, more novels and short stories. I’ve gotten over my initial fear, and hopefully I’ll keep learning and growing and getting better at this.

What would you say has been–or was–the hardest part in the experience of writing and publishing Transubstantiate?

Oh man. The hardest thing is believing in yourself. It’s the whole journey – believing in your idea, having the faith and courage to even TRY to write it. Then writing it. Then editing it for a year. Sending it out, believing it’s a great story, that you have a place in the world and are worthy. Selling your story to the masses, once you have a press, fighting for everything – the cover, the words, the events, the things you believe in, your story. The hardest part of writing and publishing is believing that you have something to share, that it is worth their time, their money, these hours, days, weeks of their lives. It’s hard. But I do believe in my words. Now. In my short stories, in Transubstantiate, and in the next one, Disintegration. I question a lot of it, so many words, sentences, scenes, chapters. I lose faith every day, and then fight to regain it. And when somebody takes the time to pop up on Facebook or send me an e-mail or writes up a fantastic review, well, I get a little bit of energy back, a bit of faith, and I keep going. Somebody just popped up on Facebook today, IM’d me real fast, just said, LOVING YOUR BOOK, and then disappeared. A guy in the UK. That’s awesome.

Transubstantiate is the first release from the upstart press Otherworld Publications.  Do you feel a lot of pressure having the flagship book on that press, and how are you measuring success for the book?  Is it just getting published, and everything else is a bonus? Is it overall book sales? Is it something else all together?

Sure, a lot of pressure. But, I can only do so much. I put it out there, do everything I can, and hope that OWP will do everything they can. We make mistakes, and hopefully learn from them. It’s a stepping stone, we’re all learning. I know that the people that are following me will benefit from the lessons that I’ve learned. And that OWP has learned. The printing process, the PR, the timelines, all of that, I know others will learn and benefit from what we’re going through right now. And whether we sell 50 or 5,000 copies, the bottom line is that I tried to put out the best book I could, and I hope that it will be a great read for everyone who comes in contact with it, entertaining, and maybe it’ll leave a mark, a tiny echo, some sort of lingering effect.

Success? Sales is one thing, sure. I’d hoped to sell 5,000 copies, but now I’d probably be happy with 1.000. Who knows. We’ve been late on a lot of things, and that has effected everything. But, as somebody said to me, it’s not just the release date, it’s the whole year that comes after it. So, ask me in a year how I feel about it all. I know that I’m expanding my audience, and that total strangers from all over the world are reading my book, and enjoying it. And that makes me happy. And my peers, fellow authors, they’ve reacted really well, all positive so far, so that’s a great feeling too.

I see this as a stepping stone, a process, someplace to start. I hope to do more with this book, maybe sell foreign rights, film rights, that kind of stuff. I have short stories coming out soon, “Stillness” will be in the Cemetery Dance collection Shivers VI any week now, and they often win a Bram Stoker award for this anthology. I have a story, “Victimized” in Murky Depths in early 2011, a graphic format magazine, and I’m really excited about that too. These are two of my favorite stories, possibly my best. It’s all connected. My novel, getting my MFA, my short stories, editing and designing for Colored Chalk and Sideshow Fables, all of it. It’s connected. I’ve been humbled by the whole process, but am really excited about how Transubstantiate has grown and gotten out there and gotten attention. Every time I get a note from somebody on Facebook or GoodReads or the Velvet of the Cult saying they really loved the book, that makes me happy. And in the end, that’s what it’s all about.

In promoting Transubstantiate, you’ve embraced the grass roots approach necessary for upstart artists in the 21st century, using all of the popular social networking sites (Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, etc.) to help spread the word.  Have you found it’s helped in finding an audience, or maybe even creating one?

For sure, definitely. Facebook, my friends have grown to over 4000. The Facebook group for Transubstantiate is over 1200. And lots of people in the group have gone out and bought copies, people all over the world – Germany, Australia, the UK, all over the US. It’s very cool. Same with Goodreads.com, we got over 1000 people to enter the contest (gave away five copies), and 200 selected the book as “to-read”, and right now, eight people are reading it over there. So that’s pretty exciting. I know that all of these resources have helped, the forums I’m at, the Cult, the Velvet, my blogs, Twitter, all of that. I know that I’ve not only made new fans, but have turned friends into fans as well, have put my words in the hands of people who knew me, or knew of me, but never read my work. It’s contagious, it just keeps growing and spreading, like a virus. I mean, like a flower. I know that all of these resources have certainly helped me, a first time author, and my press, as well.

You just recently experienced your first book signing.  First, what was that like, and second, what has been the most surreal thing so far about the whole experience of having your first book published?

The book signing at GENCON in Indy was pretty cool. I’ve been to AWP three times now, and to other conventions, big trade shows, but GENCON was wild. Not as cool as COMIC-CON, I don’t think, but there were stormtroopers, ghostbusters, Final Fantasy chicks, various anime in stages of undress, fur bikinis, lots of strange things. Our table was in Author Alley, just a little area in the back. So, if people made it us, they were probably looking for books, and were pretty serious. Otherwise, it was a wrong turn, and they kept going, looking for more half-naked girls or giant 10-sided dice.

I was kind of excited to see a little sign with my picture, Richard Thomas signing from 12-4. And a stack of my books, both the signed/limited and the paperbacks. I got to talk to a lot of people. Most of the books were fantasy, so the book covers were dragons and pixies and stuff like that. We stood out, more neo-noir, crime, mystery, some SF. I got asked a lot of great questions – how long did it take, what was my book about, what was neo-noir (or speculative). I sold three signed/limited and I was pretty excited. I kept thinking “I can’t believe this guy is dropping $40 on my book.” Even with all of the extras (cd with 5 short stories, extra bonus chapter, extended interview). It was kind of touching, really, that they were willing to take a chance, willing to come back later to get the book signed because I wasn’t there yet (had some trouble getting my ID, go figure). We sold a lot of paperbacks over four days too. It was a lot of fun. Nobody can really talk about my book like I can, explain the genre, the themes, the plot, or answer questions.

The most surreal thing was probably at AWP Denver. A guy came up to me and asked me if I was Richard Thomas. If I was the guy who wrote Transubstantiate. I was shocked. He was a really smart guy, ran a panel, and was actually really well read. I don’t know if he knew what I looked like, or read my name tag, or what, but I talked to him and it was really cool. I shook his hand, and kind of gave him a hug too. Probably slipped him some tongue, I was so excited. It was surreal. My first fan. Made my day.

Talk a bit about Disintegration.  You say you’re in the process of working out the ending but take us to its beginning.  What’s it about?  Does it relate at all to Transubstantiate or are you going somewhere new? How soon before we get to read it?

Thanks for asking. Disintegration is similar to Transubstantiate in the sense that both are neo-noir (new-black) fiction. They both are thrillers, although I think Transubstantiate is faster, where Disintegration is slower, more introspective. The other difference is that I see Transubstantiate being speculative where Disintegration is transgressive. I put these labels on my books simply because it helps me to keep the voices straight, the tone. Transubstantiate has a bit of the horrific, the fantastic. Disintegration focuses on the anarchy of one man, the rebellion, man vs. society, man vs. himself.

We’ve been talking a bit about what makes a novel “noir” over at the Velvet, and some think it’s just that it’s tragic, that the protagonist is a loser, who will never win. I don’t know about that. Maybe. I’m more open about what it means – dark, tragic, with a certain mood and tone. But I’m not sure if noir, or neo-noir, has to have a bad ending, that tragedy. I’m still learning. And in the end, I don’t really care about the labels, I just want it to be a fantastic read.

Disintegration has nothing to do with Transubstantiate, I’ll just answer that straight out. BUT…there may be a sequel to Transubstantiate someday. I have some ideas.

How soon? Well, I hope to finish writing it this year, and maybe have it land at a press next year, so that means as early as 2011, but most likely 2012 or later. I’ll be shopping it around, and have a short list of presses and agents that want to see it.

What’s it about? It’s about a man who loses everything, his family, his life, his identity. He slips into this darkness, he separates himself from society, goes off the grid, and starts to do work for a shady man. The work gets more violent, until he starts killing people, on assignment, and descends into a life that is far removed from what he once was. But somewhere down there, he still has hope, still seeks out a connection, still clings to some sort of hope. It’s dark, much darker than Transubstantiate, and I’m thinking this one may be more of a tragedy, more fitting to the noir label (or neo-noir). It’s a mix of Falling Down and Dexter and is a lot more influenced by the style and writing of Will Christopher Baer. I think it’s my best work yet.

What’s the immediate future hold for you and Transubstantiate?

Well, I hope that we’ll sell some books, get some attention, and help build my audience. Everyone has been great, very supportive, people all over the world. I’m really excited about Shivers VI (Cemetery Dance) coming out in September, so many great authors in that anthology, Bram Stoker winners, great company, that should get me some more attention. I’m reading at Quimby’s in Chicago on October 16th, that’ll be fun. My first book club in Kirkwood, MO (St. Louis) in late October. I can’t wait for Murky Depths to come out, early 2011, and would love to get into more comics/graphic novels, pair up with an illustrator, that would be fun. And of course, finishing up Disintegration. And my MFA down at Murray State University in Kentucky. So, lots going on. I just want to keep writing, keep getting better, start sending out short stories again (I’ve been really dead as far as that goes, just haven’t had any time, and I published everything I had built up in the intensives, over the last three years).

And I’m excited to keep supporting all of my friends that are publishing: Nik Korpon has Stay God coming out at OWP this December, and Brandon Tietz is re-releasing Out of Touch with us too, and Michael Sonbert too, also joining the family; Caleb Ross has I Didn’t Mean to be Kevin with Black Coffee Press; Simon West-Bulford has a book at Medallion, The Soul Consortium. I LOVE all of these books, I’ve read them all. Great books, really talented authors. All guys from Write Club, the Cult, the Velvet. I’m so excited for all of them, we’re all breaking out at the same time, couldn’t be more fun, more thrilling.

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The Oxyfication review of Transubstantiate can be read HERE (Mild Spoilers).

The website of Transubstantiate can be found HERE.

Transubstantiate can be ordered from all major online booksellers (Amazon, B&N) or directly from the publisher HERE.

Caleb Ross’ stories do not behoove summaries. Let’s just get that out of the way. Let’s also just say that they contain blood drinking, deformity, death, and disfigurement, to varying degrees. These stories swirl like nightmares: a populace of anti-protagonists so wounded that there is generally no hope for their redemption. The reader acts as sponge, absorbing their pain. Making sense of it. As the reader, you are the first man on the scene; as such, you are to perform the tasks the characters themselves are no longer capable of performing: observe, record, and interpret. Seek your own closure. And be careful to distance yourself from these people, because they’re collapsing stars, and you could be swallowed right along with them. Your job is only to do the above, and to pretend you dont share something universal with each and every one of these poor souls.

Oh, it’s not as dire a task as it sounds. There is true wonder here: Charactered Pieces is a glass menagerie of deformity, a collection of short stories that is utterly fearless in its willingness to spill blood, shock, and soothe. Unlike most horror fiction, you can’t step away and dismiss these stories with simple logic– they do not contain supernatural bogeymen, mad killers or fiends. These stories contain normal people crushed under the wheels of circumstance and the weight of guilt. The characters within are far beyond damaged– they are wrecked. Busted parents and screwed up kids; scarred, ruined, and weighed down with ten tons of remorse and pain wrapped in cancerous silence. Like individual flaws in the same junk diamond, they share some unspeakable pain in one way or another. But all this hurt isn’t dreamt up for the author’s detached amusement, or for the titilliation of some nihlistic reader– this is a bid for communion where it is needed most. In each story the characters’ struggles are the result of some long-incubated despair, intimate and undeniable as a deathbed rasp. Come close. Listen: that the main character in The Camel of Morocco— an architect tortured by guilt after the collapse of a mosque on which he performed renovations— could reach the course of action that he does with the reader’s suspension of disbelief intact is a small miracle, if miracle is the word. These characters cry for empathy. You will be tested on whether you can abide.

This isn’t shock for the sake of shock. This isn’t to get a rise out of you; this isn’t a museum of cruelty. There is never the sense that Ross is toying with you, manipulating your sympathies. On the contrary, like a synthesis of Raymond Carver’s ability to paint in 100 shades of grey and Chuck Palahniuk’s reckless abandon for the limits of taste, Charactered Pieces is an honest look at the darkness that humans both create and endure; a catharsis by way of misery, sweating out the toxins. Apparently even pain can be beautiful– what else could explain feeling even remotely upbeat, as I did, at the end of the eponymously-titled first story Charactered Pieces, witnessing the main character lovingly painting the semi-formed toenails of an unborn fetus? Yeah. Out of context it sounds over-the-top, but withinin the context of the story it’s an act that is as loving as it is surreal.

Fathers fail; buildings collapse; people visit unending pain on themselves and their loved ones. Love. The word sounds unreachable, like a star whose death we haven’t yet recorded but whose light is still visible. Refracted through Ross’ prose— at turns both brutal and poetic— it can yield understanding. Maybe even hope. Like a collection of photos of our absolute worst moments, Charactered Pieces works to dull the edge of suffering through exposure; toughening the spirit, leading us into and through the places we fear. Though maybe we shouldn’t leap to conclusions on that hope business: “The wind sounds like wind,” closes The Camel of Morocco. The implication is that our guilt, however crushing, is to be dealt with. We are perhaps on our own.

Caleb’s website: www.calebjross.com

In true do-it-yourself fashion, Toronto singer-songwriter Danny Handes took pretty much whatever he could find—guitar, microphone, tambourine, knitting needles—and weaved an impressive debut album. The Asterisk Eye is a musical quilt, a patchwork of 14 songs that cover a lot of ground. It travels pretty much everywhere, from “So Bad” with its AC/DC-like driven riff to the softer land of “Our Leaves Are Green Again” and “Long Road,” which would be fitting on a mix-tape with the likes of Keane and Thom Yorke. “Hearts Again” is a catchy windows-rolled-down-on-a-cool-fall-night companion song. The album’s standout though is ethereal cover of the sadly overlooked Ramones Road To Ruin ballad “Questioningly.” At times—and not just because of Handes voice, but the similarities are worth noting—The Asterisk Eye can sound a lot like a Tom Petty record; more focused on the journey and not the destination. The beaten path is covered in smog backed up for hours with traffic. The Asterisk Eye is a back roads sort of album. The roads are clear and the sky is blue. Put it on and go.

“I won’t settle nope not a little bit.”

If it sounds like a proclamation it should, and it comes beautifully by way of Emma-Lee, Canadian singer-songwriter on “Where You Want To Be.” Since last time we heard from her she has managed to get exactly where she wants to be. Her debut album, Never Just A Dream, which was given 4/4 stars from the Toronto Star—and also fared quite nicely with Oxyfication—is a brilliant beginning-to-end coming-of-age listening experience that defies genre classification. For the better part of the two years leading up to the recording of Never Just A Dream, however, it seemed as if the reality of it coming to fruition might be in danger. Emma-Lee faced two potentially career-ending-before-it-had-a-chance-to-begin medical hurdles that resulted in two separate surgeries on her vocal chords. At 25-years old, more resilient and determined than ever, recording wrapped on the album in mid-2008 and was released in August. On the album Emma-Lee played the songstress-of-all-trades: writing, singing, co-producing, photographing, promoting, and chief financing the project. The wearing of many different hats is nothing new for Emma-Lee. She runs her own photography business, Stripped Media, and she’s a founding member of the Toronto-based creative-collective, GoodSoundsGood. In a brief moment of downtime Emma-Lee stopped by Oxyfication to answer all things pertaining to Never Just A Dream, from what it felt like to finally finish the album, to what it’s like being the object of affection of the Viagra-popping generation.

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So it’s been over two-and-a-half years since you first spoke with Oxyfication. In our first interview you stated your goal was to record your first full-length album and now on the eve of its August 8^th 2008 official release, Never Just A Dream becomes a full-fledge reality. For starters, has it finally set in yet that you’ve done it, and if so when was that moment? Was it hearing the finished product in the studio, when the disk arrived on your doorstep, or if so/not, what were those moments like?

I think the moment for me was when the vocals were officially done. Before mixing, mastering and packaging, I knew all those things would be done one way or another but because of the surgery, and my nervousness about whether or not I could sing the way I used to, it was a true victory when I had completed that part of the project.

Early response to Never Just A Dream has been extremely positive, including a nomination in the “Best Jazz” category of Toronto’s Independent Music Awards as well as a nod in the Toronto Star’s weekly “Anti-Hit” list of the best-undiscovered musicians. What do these honors feel like? Are they strictly a validation thing for all of the hard work? Are they something you worked towards/hoped for? Or is all of it just an added bonus to accomplishing something that you’ve proud of?

It’s always nice to get a positive reaction from people. You pour your heart into something and at the end of the day I’m very proud of the record, so I guess people enjoying what I’ve done is a bit of a bonus. I’m always grateful for the added exposure though.

What has been your favorite or most fulfilling moment in all of this so far?

For me it’s watching the songs come alive by way of my amazing band. I’m blessed with a lot of talent around me who believe in the project, which is very encouraging. The world is so fast now and everyone is so busy. If someone is willing to lend me their time because they believe in the music, that’s probably the most fulfilling thing about what I do.

Back in 2006 you spoke of making an album that “flows like a story.” The obvious theme of Never Just A Dream would seem to be rooted in heartache, yet there is a strong sense of redemption in songs such as “Flow”, “Isn’t It Obvious”, and “Mr. Buttonlip” that it seems if there’s any real sense of cohesiveness in terms of an overall story it’s of a woman—or person for that matter—who is coming into their own, who feels comfortable in their own skin, as scarred as it may be. Considering some of these songs are years older than others did you still have a cognizant theme in mind when you were putting the album together, are they more a collection of songs that happen to skate in familiar waters, or were they perhaps just the songs that fit best with what you wanted to say?

I would say they are a collection of songs. The three you mentioned are all about one person and play out on the album in order of which they were written: the sadness of the break-up, the trouble that comes from trying to remain friends, and the inevitable angry or “fuck you” song. The rest of the songs on the album are more or less things that took place in the last few years of my life and just sort of “fit”. For a debut album I wanted something that people could put on start to finish, but it is by no means a concept record.

The lyrical content seems to be familiar territory on the album’s first run through, but the lyrics reveal many intricacies on subsequent listens. Possession and the pitfalls of couplehood seem to be a recurring theme– and then comes a song like “Where You Want To Be”, which is on a different plane. With such an economy of words the song floats through some tricky states of mind— there are shades of comfort, tenacity, and disappointment here. Do you approach a song like this by trying to abbreviate a distinct narrative you’ve got in mind, or are you working purely in abstracts that, when paired with the music, evoke a pure mood?

“Where You Want to Be” is sort of an observation on people who are complacent with where they are in life and never chase anything further. I’ve had a few friends who seemed to settle quite early on and never dreamed of anything that wasn’t directly in their reach and I never really understood it. It angers me a bit when people who I know are full of potential or talent, but just sort of give in to being comfortable, even if that means sacrificing a dream.

The song “Flow” has undergone a facelift since its first appearance on The Sneak Peek E.P. Though the melody and spirit of the song remain the same it’s a completely different song. Why did you decide to change the song? Was it strictly a matter of having more at your disposal now than when you initially recorded it? Did the song mature, did the way you sing it perhaps mature, or was this the way you heard it sound in your mind all along?

Definitely the first version of “Flow” was never in my mind “complete”. I think a song can be done a million different ways. That’s what makes music so exciting. A big part of the change in the way it sounds was removing the electric guitar and replacing it with piano for the intro. Tyler Yarema, who plays all of the piano and organ on the album, came into the studio and I told him to just experiment with playing the intro verse a few different ways. When he played this ultra-minimalist take I just knew it was right. He barely knew the song and his intuition was just so bang-on. I think he did maybe three takes of the song and that was the one we (Mitch Girio, my co-producer) and I chose. Vocally, I had definitely improved and matured since the first recording. I’ve laid off the over-done runs that often happen in that genre as I found they often can be distracting from the real message in the music and lyrics. It took me awhile to tune into that. I know now that I don’t have to show off my vocal acrobatics to get my point across.

In terms of the structure of how the songs of Never Just A Dream were laid out the album opens (with “Bruise Easy”) and closes (with “Until We Meet Again”) with a fade in/fade out feel to it giving it a sort of cinematic feel. Was the sequence of the songs something you paid a lot of attention to, or planned out?

Once those songs were written—which coincidentally they were the most recent additions to the album—it made sense for me to open with something really bare. People in the industry will tell you to put your best songs first on an album but I didn’t really care about that. It was more important for me that the first song be intriguing rather than bash people over the head with a hook. It’s short, almost like an intro; it sets a mood. The last song, with its title (“Until We Meet Again”) seemed like a no-brainer to place at the end, and I think it is an equally intriguing way to finish the CD. For my first real “album” I didn’t want to compromise anything. No one is telling me what to do right now so why should I do what is expected by the mainstream? I think the best thing that you can do as an independent artist is to take major advantage of the freedom. At the end of the day it’s my name tacked on to the project so if I don’t feel good about it, it’s going to be hard to promote.

The boys that inspired these songs, have you heard from any of them on how they’ve been immortalized? Is there a line of men already forming to be in the next round of songs? And specifically, with the song “An Older Man”, have you already, or do you expect a harem of Viagra-packing gentlemen to show up at your performances?

[Laughs] A few older men have come a-courtin’, that much is true. As far as the rest, the one who Mr. Buttonlip is about left me a really funny message on my answering machine after receiving the album. It was something along the lines of “Hey…just wanted to tell you that I love your album, particularly Mr. Buttonlip, but I have a feeling it’s about me. If it’s not about me and I’m just being a vain asshole I’m sorry, but let me know because I think I will like it a lot more if it’s about someone else.” I kind of forgot when I gave it to him that there might be some offensive words on there.

The strings added another dimension to the songs giving them a grander yet seemingly more intimate sound. Were strings something that you wanted to work with all along and what was that like, hearing songs you built on the guitar get transformed with classical instruments?

That was one of the most exciting moments in the project. I asked Mike Olsen to do the strings early on as I’d heard a lot of his work, which was amazing. I have a belief that you need to let people just DO what they’re truly good at. So I basically gave the songs to Mike and said, “Write whatever you want”. I know that I do my best work as an artist, whether it be in music or photography, when people just let me do my thing. Rules and restrictions can be suffocating, so I wanted to let the people involved in the CD shine in what they had worked their lives becoming an expert at. The results are just as I expected, and I still get goose bumps when I hear their parts.

In the past two years you were forced to face two separate problems with your vocal chords resulting in two different surgeries. Were there times when the “What if?” and “Why me?” questions started to creep into your head? Or did these roadblocks only strengthen your resolve to get Never Just A Dream completed? What was the hardest part of going through all of this? Have you had to change your approach at all? How has your voice held up since the surgeries?

I’m not a religious person but when a series of unfortunate events occur in your life sometimes you turn to spiritual means to sort them out. Certainly a lot of “what if” and “why me” questions crossed my mind. But I’m not the type of person to just succumb to struggle. I know that there was no fucking way I would have come this far and worked that hard just to roll over. My voice feels the same, if not better than before the surgeries, and I try to appreciate it a lot more.

In the heat of the creative process is it hard—or on Never Just A Dream was it hard—to objectively step back and enjoy what you hear, and moreover enjoy what’s going on? Does it get too familiar at times? Were there/Are there times when you have to step back for a while to allow things an opportunity to remain fresh? When/If ever did you start to hear the “magic” on the album?

I would say I heard the magic right away. After those first sessions recording the bed tracks I was sold. There was a period of time spent not doing any work on the record because of the surgery I had. During that time I played the shit out of what had been done and got to a point where I felt I had listened too much. Then the vocals, strings, and finishing touches were put on and it was exciting again. After a couple weeks listening to it for hours on end during the mixing and mastering stages I was sick of it. I do that with almost every record I love though. I listen to it for every detail until I could recite it to you lick for lick. Once I sent it off to the plant to get manufactured I took a few weeks off and didn’t listen to it once. I think it’s important to spend time away from something so you can appreciate it again later. I listened to it again today actually and still felt really happy about it, so I guess that’s all I can ask for.

In our first interview we talked about the hardships that being an independent artist—in its truest sense—face. Considering that you shouldered the brunt of the load on Never Just A Dream (singer/songwriter/nylon guitar/co-producer/art direction/promoter/chief photographer/glockenspiel/financier/and most importantly, claps & stomps) how difficult has it been it to pull everything together and still maintain the focus, drive, and creative spirit? Do you have a greater sense of accomplishment because you laid so much of yourself on the line? And do you feel like everything up to this point has been how you envisioned it would be?

I think given my resources for completing a project like this I have no complaints and I feel comfortable where I am right now. Many of the singer-songwriters I admire took a long time to really accomplish great things and I’ve always felt like a late bloomer in that sense. I didn’t really start writing songs until four years ago, so I can only hope to learn more every year and become a better writer. At times it’s difficult to maintain a creative spirit when you are mountains in debt, but truthfully my best writing comes from harder times, not when I’m lying on a beach getting a massage in Barcelona. As annoying as they are in the present tense, as long as I tune into those feelings as they’re happening, hopefully [I can] write a song, and they can be good for the spirit.

The sounds of Never Just A Dream meander through many different genres—from jazz, to blues, to pop, to a big-band era show tunes feel—rather seamlessly, and though theory says that good music should conquer all, it seems the music industry from top to bottom is hell bent on compartmentalizing sounds/bands/singers into specific categories, even if they don’t fit, for marketing purposes. The flipside of that—and a freedom perhaps granted to you as an independent singer—seems to be that because the album is so diverse in its sound that it could appeal to a broader base of people. Have you run into any hardships on this level, either trying to describe the album, market the album, or promote the album, or has it been a fairly easy go because of its diversity?

I’ve pretty much come to an acceptance that I am terrible at streamlining—or channeling—my inspiration into any one sound. I listen to way too many different types of music to make a record that is any one particular genre. I mean never-say-never; there might be a top-to-bottom jazz album in me yet, but not anytime soon. I love to explore far too much. I think it’s a lot more acceptable in Indie music to be all over the map. Or it’s simply more common because, again, no one is telling you what to do. As much as I hope that people will listen to this album from start to finish it’s an iPod generation, and people pick favourites and play those. Does it really matter how cohesive something is anymore? I don’t know.

In terms of singles, do you—or with Never Just A Dream specifically did you—consciously think that you’re going to need a single—or singles—to help pull people into the album? Do you write with that in mind? Does something like that maybe develop after the fact? Or is the whole need for a single overblown?

In my world a single isn’t necessary. I’m not making the kind of music that’s going to be played on mainstream commercial radio so I have to go to campus radio. Their format is totally open; DJ’s play whatever songs from the album they want. You can try to get your fans to request particular songs but that doesn’t always have sway. However, if there were a first “single” for the album it would be “That Sinking Feeling”. I’m working on getting funding for a music video for that song right now. I have never tried to write a single, or a “hit song”. I could be completely wrong but I still hold to the idea that the best songs come from true inspiration, not what someone thinks is catchy or “cool”. As soon as I feel like I’m “trying” to find the hook I toss the song. Pretty much all of the hooks I’ve ever come up with I don’t really remember where they came from. They just sort of came out, eventually.

You mention trying to secure funds for a music video of “That Sinking Feeling”. Though internet sites such as YouTube are hugely popular, and have pretty much completely replaced the MTVs and other once video-friendly cable outlets that are now more concerned with reality shows, do you think that music videos still have a pertinent place in music? So many of the popular videos on YouTube seem to be quirky by nature, and though they can go a long way to getting a lot of people to notice you, it seems that fame in that regard can definitely be fleeting. Is your desire to make a music video driven by the chance of exploring another creative medium, is it because you truly believe that there’s still a place for music videos out there, or is it maybe something different? And do you have an idea of what you’d want to do for “That Sinking Feeling” visually to compliment the song?

I believe YouTube is an opportunity to expose a little piece of yourself to the world with a low budget. It’s a good way to connect personally to your fans, but as you said, it’s fleeting. My interest in making a music video isn’t so my mug can be on computer screens across the world as much as it would be the joy of attaching a visual creation to the musical creation. I think there will always be a place for music videos because often the combination of music and film is more memorable than just the song itself and ups the sentimentality a person could feel towards it. I have an idea for the video, but you will just have to wait and see it to know what it is! Completing a music video will definitely be a big check mark off the old “life to-do list”. I’m excited to say the very, very least.

Prior to the release of the album you had a pre-order where people could buy their copy (or copies) of Never Just A Dream in advance. The benefit for you was that it helped raise necessary money. The benefit for them was that they received the album upon its completion ahead of the official release date. Was the pre-sell a success, and what was the overall response. How wide-ranging in location were the people who pre-ordered?

The pre-sale was quite a success. I was surprised and flattered that people were sending me money for an album that hadn’t been recorded yet, and that they hadn’t heard even a tiny sample from. Apparently I have some very kind and supportive friends and fans. I got orders from all over the world.

Both with Indie releases and those from major studios the album booklet and its artwork are often overlooked or passed off with indifference. Perhaps that’s due to the overabundance of people who get their music in mp3 format, or perhaps it’s a way to cut down on cost, but you’ve paid great attention to the artwork and the booklet and the presentation really pays off creating a fuller experience. Was that really important to you and if so, why?

I figure anyone who buys the physical CD is buying it for that exact reason; the experience. If you’re more partial to iTunes you probably don’t give a toss what the liner notes say. So I made the booklet with the idea in mind that the CD was going to go to people who wanted that experience. I love photos; it’s obvious why I got into photography. I’ve always been drawn particularly to the way my favourite bands/musicians were presented in their artwork. There is a quote from Bjork that says:

“The reason I do photographs is to help people understand my music, so it’s very important that I am the same, emotionally, in the photographs as in the music. Most people’s eyes are much better developed than their ears. If they see a certain emotion in the photograph, they’ll understand the music. So instead of having to listen to my album ten times, they’ll get it the first time.”

I guess that explains why I do self-portraits. I can capture myself exactly as I would like to be perceived.

Now that you have your first full-length album under your belt has there been any time to relish in that feeling of “I’ve finally done it”, or is it just a matter of having to move on to the next phase of promoting and selling the album? And does the completion of the album leave you with an added sense of pressure both on yourself and what you expect of the album?

I’ve definitely had my moment to enjoy and say “Ok, it’s done” and I’ve fully moved into promo mode. As far as pressure and my expectations, I feel that I’ve done the best job I possibly could right now and I’m truly happy with the result. If people get it, and like it, that will encourage me to move forward. I look at this record as an introduction to what I’m all about, and I hope it will take me far enough to make another one.

You’ve already performed several dates in advance of the release of Never Just A Dream and have several others lined up in the coming months, including your first mini-foray into the U.S. Ideally the goal would be to tour the album as much as possible in as many different places/counties, but realistically as an Independent musician, what sort of places/cities do you see yourself getting to?

I’ve been playing with a band for most of my career. As much as I would love to take them on the road with me everywhere it’s financially not feasible right now. I’m working on finessing my solo act so I can go anywhere at the drop of a hat. A solo performance is always completely different than with the full band but it should never be thought of as better or worse – just different. Some people have said they love to hear me acoustic because my voice is at the forefront; others love the rhythmic element having a band provides. I like playing with a band for the feeling of sharing music with others on stage, but there is a certain control you get playing alone that you can’t always have with a band. I’ll go wherever people will listen; but I would like to spend more time in Europe, if only for its simpler navigation. Canada is a monster.

In terms of the live show not being any better or worse whether it’s a solo gig or one with a full band, do you feel that all of the songs from ‘Never Just A Dream’ can—and do— translate over to a solo show, or are there some that you reserve for when you have a band?

I personally prefer playing with a full band because that provides me the ability to show an audience exactly how I hear things in my own head. On the flip side, the intimacy and control you have when performing solo is also nice depending on the gig. I believe all of the songs translate to solo, that’s where they started. Not always, but as a general rule I think if it can’t stand-alone with a guitar and a voice it’s probably a dud.

Finally, in closing your last interview with Oxyfication, when asked where you saw yourself in a year’s time you answered, “I predict I will be in the midst of making a full on disco album and working on a completely pretentious coffee table book of nude self portraits.” How are those proclamations coming along, and do you have any insight into a year from this point?

[Laughs] Well, the nude coffee table book and disco album are still in the back of my mind, but I’ve been too busy with NJAD to really let them…flourish In one year from now I hope to have all the material for a new album, and if I have that, I’ll be exactly where I want to be.

A clever songwriter with a classically divine voice Toronto, Canada’s Emma-Lee spins songs of mass seduction on her debut album, Never Just A Dream. Built from ambivalent tales of heartbreak and redemption that everyone who has loved has gone through, the songs are like sonic submersibles, delving their way into the parts of you that make you tick. The catchy lyrics and osmotic melodies follow you and before you know it you’re bopping right along.

The luscious landscape of “That Sinking Feeling” sets the proper mood for what you’re going to get; a genre-defying balance of songs that are flawlessly produced to compliment one of Canada’s best-undiscovered secrets: Emma-Lee’s voice.

“Jealousy” is a gamboling good time of a “grow up already” tune that serves nicely as a dance-by-yourself-because-it-feels-good-to-be-alive anthem with lyrics such as, “If we could all make the same confessions/Stop treating lovers like god damn possessions/’Cause people do what people want to anyways.” The juxtaposition might come with “Isn’t It Obvious”, a beautifully honest song about the perils of being stuck in a place that you know isn’t right, but you can’t quite—either by choice or circumstance—get away from.

“Mr. Buttonlip” may not be as blunt as Alanis Morissette’s “You Outta Know” with its happy-go-lucky toe-tapping big band sound, but this a big fat “F’ off!’ proclamation if ever there was one, and never has a smooth-as-silk voice stung so severely as when Emma-Lee sings, “So why do you stick around just to stay in the picture?/This album closed when you hit the road.” Next up is the bluesy, “An Older Man”, a super-sexy coming-into-their-sexual-own tale that will have a legion of boys chalking up their driver’s licenses to try and disguise themselves as men when they hear a verse like, “Lips like clockwork ‘cause he’s kissed a lot of flowers.”

The minimalism of the piano-driven epic “Flow” recalls the sparse serenades of Lionel Richie’s best ballads when he ruled the contemporary airwaves. Like many of the other songs on Never Just A Dream the person in “Flow” is someone who is waiting for a crescendo that’s never going to come; only in terms of the song, as it reaches its crescendo and Emma-Lee belts out, “Just let me go” it’s just as cathartic as it is stunning.

At 25-years old, in 42-minutes, on her debut album no less, Emma-Lee accomplishes what most of her forbearers forgot long ago: that you don’t sit down to only watch certain scenes in a movie, so why should you do it with an album? As listeners we’re just as guilty, in this single-driven society we tend to sacrifice quantity for quasi-quality, forgoing the experience of experiencing an album for the convenience of the chopping block to fill our iPod playlists. With Never Just A Dream Emma-Lee spares us the shears, offering instead this top-to-bottom, no-fillers testimonial of someone, who through thick and thin, is learning to feel comfortable in their own skin. Never Just A Dream not only belongs in the discussion for the Best Debut Album of the Year, it can hold its own against the Tidals, Little Earthquakes, and whatever-other-notable-debut you want to compare it to. It’s that good.

If there’s one thing to hold against Emma-Lee it’s that she may have mislead you. On “Bruise Easy” she sings, “And it’s hard to love a girl wearing sorrow.” That’s a lie; it’s hard not to love a girl who wears it so well. Emma-Lee isn’t a name that you’re going to remember. She’s a singer you’ll never forget.

Justin Nicholes, author of the novel Ash Dogs (Another Sky Press), has set up for himself quite a challenge with this debut offering. His protagonist, former high school football star and current Iraq war veteran, Marcus Green, has returned home from his tour of duty and must assimilate back into domestic life. The novel focuses on Marcus’s attempt at a simple, comfortable existence far removed from the rigors of war, which by design downplays the forward momentum present in most longer fiction works.

Because the novel focuses almost entirely on Marcus’s life post-war, his strive for comfort can be mistaken for lack of motivation which then infuses his domestic relationships with a passive ennui. It is important to understand this intent when reading Ash Dogs. Know that you aren’t getting explosions and military strategy here. This is a novel of relationships and the soldier’s reintegration paranoia that reinforces the frailty of those relationships:

Who did they think he was? And how many would guess I’ve done what I’ve done, have leapt to the ground at incoming fire and, finding myself wallowing in human remains, burrowed more deeply? [pg.26]

And later, this exchange between Marcus and Bill, his summer baseball coach, also touches on this paranoia:

“So when you going to come by the school again?” Bill asked.

“When my face stops scaring kids,” Marcus replied. [pg. 43]

Marcus’s home life tends to mimic scattered battlefield shrapnel, with family members spread far, each piece responsible for its own damage. Part two (of three) of the novel is dedicated to Marcus’s journey to Mexico to meet his half-brother, Oscar, where Marcus gets caught up in activities closely resembling the chaos that he may have witnessed in Iraq. It is during this visit that Marcus begins to realize the bonding power of carnage:

“Nothing, he thought, not even having blood in common binds people together like shared witnessing of violence” [pg. 93].

Ash Dogs, the third novel and fifth book offering from donation-driven publisher Another Sky Press, enhances the press’s reputation of quality work while at the same time diversifies the catalog at a time when many could dismiss the press as an “outsider only” brand. We’ve seen the Burroughs-esque cut-and-paste style novel, Click. We’ve seen the Falling from the Sky anthology, filled with recognized Bizarro genre authors. We’ve even seen a coloring book by Jesse Reno, an artist known for his shamanic painter inspired style. In contrast to these subversive offerings, Ash Dogs hits like a well timed respite, but maintains a power of its own accord.

Canadian singer-songwriter, Amelie Lefebvre’s (she goes by Amelie) music is like a stranger hugging you: you don’t have to understand, or know the person doing the hugging to feel the warmth in their embrace. That old cliche about music being universal, that rings true here. All but one song on her debut album, Amelie, is sung in French, a language probably foreign to a lot of people south of the Canadian border. But from the album’s opening track “24 heures” (an acoustic version also closes the disk) your ears tell you, knowing the language or not, it doesn’t matter, good is good, and Amelie is certainly that. The album as a whole is like hitting the scan dial on your radio; there’s a bunch of different styles, from jazz, to lounge, to pop, and more, sometimes within the same song. It can go from Broadway to beer hall, from carnival to candle light, without warning. “Comme t’es” is reminiscent of all that was—and still is—good about the sixties style radio hits of Ben E. King and the likes. From the first guitar strum you’re hooked into the song. The more than contagious clap along serves as the perfect counterpart to the mix of guitars, and the infectious bass. You’re not only listening to the song, you’re participating in it. And that participation aspect carries over throughout. “Cousine” has a very visual black and white noir detective film feel to it, where you can imagine yourself playing voyuer as the character within the song is creeping around corners and back alleys in seach of their lover. In “Her Beauty”, the album’s only predominantly English song, Amelie’s talent as a witty storyteller is revealed, “If bliss is ignorance they say/what about that frown.” As for Amelie’s voice, which at times is reminiscent of Aimee Mann’s, it’s very sensuous—in spots just outright seductive—and soothing; and it is beautifully accented by the violin on “Jimmy” and the flugel horn on “Mon grand.” In fact, the musicians that play on Amelie are all standouts in their own ways. Everything feels together. Everything sounds together; Amelie is a very compact record. Sure, it would be a bonus to know French so you could understand the majority of the lyrics. But it’s really not that important: going in with blind ears is just fine. Amelie’s voice, and the fun nature of her music will lead you where you need to go. And along the way she won’t disappoint.