NaNoWriMo 120 dollar Special

Posted: November 2, 2013 in Uncategorized

So, some of you have decided to join the month of mayhem known as National Novel Writing Month. This is a great endeavor. A writer should stay disciplined and care about and commit to their work and improving it. 

I’m all about helping writers get better. As an editor and instructor of online workshops and as a member of the Bizarro community,  I’ve watched a lot of writers grow and change.

These writers all had one thing in common:commitment.  These writers bet on themselves. As a freelancer and an author,  I have to bet the farm on my skills and connections. If I don’t find or finish the work I need, I don’t survive. It’s that simple.  If you don’t commit, you don’t prosper.

I’m going to give three NaNo writers a chance to bet on themselves and guarantee that their NaNo work will grow into something better.

I am willing to edit three people’s NaNoWrMo books at the price of 120 dollars apiece. The catch is, you pay upfront by Friday November 8th. These discounted slots are a great deal so should move fast. Put your money where your mouth is and I will match it with my time and skill. Copy edits, content advice and talk about marketing prospects.  Good luck. Place your bets here. (Note: Deadline was extended to Friday to accommodate those paid at the end of the week.)

UPDATE: One slot has been claimed. Only two days later and two slots remain.

(Originally written for a contest for the Surreal Grotesque Podcast, writing this story, set in the world  of my recent novel Time Pimp from Eraserhead Press helped me flesh out the universe. Because of the mythos content, I thought it would make a nice Halloween week treat. Contains characters from the world of Time Pimp, but no spoilers.) 


They gathered at the Cathedral of Malkuth, from throughout reality, from the secret inner planets of the Sefirot to the Big Rock Candy Mountain to the Black Saloon, the finest school of the Dark Arts the Wild West had to offer. They gathered at the Cathedral of Malkuth, a once golden building changed over to more practical lead to prevent indiscretions with x ray vision. They gathered at the Cathedral of Malkuth because they were tired of Doubt and fabulous could be purchased to support the cause of eradicating doubt.


Represented in the front row, bored by most everything that was up for sale were the lionheads, a race of lionheaded and quilled space reptiles who snatched up worlds and drained their resources out of sheer gluttony and impatience. They had no need for a six day meditation retreat with Saint Cyprian of Antioch, nor for the location of the Pumpkin Planet where Franz the monkey forged jokes at his jokeforge. Nor did they need a talking rainbox or a bag of fertilizer from the Archelon Ranch. The lionhead, psilinked to the Impatience, supreme leader of his race, was already plotting to conquer Malkuth, mine it into devastation and abandon it as was their way.


Beside the lionhead, Doc Faustus, The Tartarus Kid had purchased the retreat with Cyprian but was hoping against hope that his bank plunder would be sufficient to purchase what he’d heard from the ghost of Belle Starr would be on sale today. He wanted to put an end to Doubt for certain, as anyone would, but he had a more substantial stake in all of this.


Beside them were a dozen representatives of the Morality Front, clad in head to toe body condoms, the typical garb of Our Lady of Perpetual Latex. They were unsure about eradicating Doubt since the Chronopope of the Morality Front had recently come out in favor of Doubt. They were there for the real prize. As was the gigantic being behind them.


Squelatinous Quub, the hiphop mogul and gangster took up almost half the cathedral, cutting the potential attendance of the auction into ribbons. The great gooey blob would not be refused attendance, however. And he was the sort of man who had bits of his enemies floating around in his transparent innards. In fact, at this point, his transparent innards were so clogged up with bits of his enemies that he was more or less completely made out of them.


The rest of the room was more or less the usual suspects for these sorts of charity auctions, the Wealthy Dowagers Supper Club of Binah, the Clitoral Empress of Netzach, The Grilled Cheese Consortium and Ken Shifatsu, Grand Sumo of Yesod. They had all come to eradicate Doubt, but were nonetheless eager to leave with fabulous treasures and grand opportunities. Their eyes seldom drifted away from the seraph running the auction, except to look upon two figures.


One:the Pharaoh Nyarlathotep, The Crawling Chaos, dark, resplendent and perpetually amused. The other: a red haired, blue eyed alabaster angel of a leather nun from the convent at Geburah seated beside the infamous Time Pimp, who the seraph was calling up to the podium.


Time Pimp went to the podium with swagger, performing a series of dramatic kicks that served to show off his platform shoes. In each shoe a tiny psychic octopus was floating in absinthe. He was handsome and tan in his red velvet suit, and his purple velvet hat with a feather of ever shifting colors looked jaunty.


“Next up for bid,” said the three winged fire eyed angelic auctioneer, “dinner and dancing with Time Pimp!”


“Five thousand space bucks!” cried a supper club matron who looked quite smart in her plaid coat and tam o’ shanter.


The leather nun stood up.




“Heavens!” cried the supper club, fainting in tandem.


“Sold,” said the angelic auctioneer.


And Time Pimp sat back down beside the leather nun, glaring at her under his shades.


“I have never been dancing,” she declared, “also, I need to borrow five million space bucks.”


Time Pimp was about to respond to this with anger and frustration, but the angel produced from mid air a stinking repugnant tome bound in human flesh.


“Next up for bid, the Necronomicon. Bound in human flesh. Authored by Abd Al Hazred…well, you all know the score.”


“ONE MILLION SPACEBUCKS!” shouted Doc Faustus, the Tartarus Kid.


“TWO MILLION!” shouted the lionhead.


“ONE BILLION!” cried Squelatinous Quub.


“TWO BILLION!” replied The Grilled Cheese Consortium.


“TWENTY BILLION!” growled Ken Shifatsu ferociously.


Squelatinous Quub briefly contemplated eating the sumo but decided it would be more rewarding to outdo him.


“One quadrillion spacebucks,” the blob gurgled. The supper club regained their footing only to faint again. Time Pimp relaxed his machismo to cling to the nun’s arm. She clung back. The Clitoral Empress vanished in disgust. The lionhead stormed out. The Tartarus Kid quietly prayed to Hades under his breath.


“Sold,” said the angelic auctioneer, “to Squelatinous Quub.”


Nyarlathotep, the Dark Pharaoh stood up with sarcastic applause.


“Well done, Squelatinous Quub. But you cannot buy that for it is mine and always has been.”


The room was filled with  whispers. The blob choked back tears of halfdigested foeflesh. The Seraph reached for the flaming sword at his side. Ken Shifatsu drew a tanto and contemplated seppuku. But worst of all, the room was filled with laughter, the laughter of the shadow that eclipses the sun, the laughter of the Dear John letter, the laughter of the bus driving off right as you reach the stop. It sodomized souls, then concluded.


“Keep your goddamned book,” said The Crawling Chaos, “this is why you will never defeat doubt.”


Nyarlathotep left the cathedral. Nobody learned anything.


[This is just a sampling of the potential strangenesses and exotic characters of the world of  Time Pimp.  To see how many of these characters connect and the adventures Time Pimp and his leather nun companion have, buy Time Pimp HERE. Happy Halloween, you jiveass turkeys.]

Each year, I like to give an online writing workshop for those who wish to learn how to write Bizarro and advances themselves in the Bizarro fiction. And each time, I like to teach beside a Bizarro notable  such as Bradley Sands or J.David Osborne. This time around, I am honored to bring you one of the heavyweights of experimental fiction.

Tom Bradley’s essay the Nab Gets Posthumously Bizarroized is so full of insights into Bizarro that (get this) IT’S USED AS A SOURCE ON THE WIKIPEDIA PAGE! Tom was kind of the first Bizarro scholar and is a talented writer with such books as Lemur and Family Romance under his belt. He’s also a cornerstore of the Imperial Youth Review organization. His support and wisdom have been invaluable. 

For four weeks, this December (and one in January because there will be a Christmas break), we can make your holiday a little stranger and keep you sharp during winter breaks from school. Each week, you will have a short exercise from each of us. Tom will teach how to infuse your work with emotional realism and how to document your experiences, as I flip Tom’s lessons on their head, teaching you how to create and expand your dream worlds. We start at autobiography and end at fabrication.

The cost of this workshop is 40 dollars for those who sign up in October, 60 for those who sign up in November. Thirteen slots are available. Email for info or to sign up.



Time Pimp is Here!

Posted: October 7, 2013 in Uncategorized

Now available on,   Time Pimp is my latest novel, published by Eraserhead Press.

With nods to Doctor Who,  Phillip K Dick, Michael Moorcock, Wilhelm Reich and all manner of other influences, this book tells the story of Time Pimp. Time Pimp is a member of an ancient alien race of pimps, controlling reality and history by helping people, atoms and aliens get it on. With his purple cadillac Time Pimp can reach any time or place and has used it to keep history happy alongside his leather nun companion, Sister Cecilia.

But there are those who do not see eye to eye. For every pimp, there is a hater, a shadow. And Time Pimp’s Hater is Death Pimp. Grand  Etharch of the Morality Front, Death Pimp seeks to stop his brother and to repress joy, love and light wherever he sees it. Time Pimp also finds himself at odds with a duplicitous prostitute, hostile aliens, a shadowy grilled cheese consortium and a steampunk panda who can’t seem to get anything right. 

Guest starring Sherlock Holmes, Sylvia  Plath, Dante Alighieri, Mahatma Gandhi and other historical players, Time Pimp is a surprisingly deep, dark and satirical look at love, sexuality, obligation and history. 


Oh, and there’s also hottub orgies.Image


Get it at Amazon!

A shiny monocle. A pith helmet. A corncob pipe. The best fake mustache that you have ever seen, friend.

And I bet you never noticed that he was a Saint Bernard. Any other Saint Bernard we’d dressed like so, you would have said  “oh, that’s cute”. But we’d bred a line of them to look the part or looked what we thought the part looked like- it had been awhile- and they were good enough.

Again, you wrong us, motherfucking Fifth Estate.

“The Patriarch is a dog! There was never a Patriarch!”

It sounded so good, your abortions, your hugs, your naked dancing in the rain.

But we can’t live in a void. Who will we be?

Ralph Grevin was a joke. He was a just a man. What the hell does being a man have to do with Patriarchy?

Nothing, that’s what.

Ralph Grevin collected Pokemon cards. His favorite food was syrup. He did not know the thread count of his sheets. Ralph Grevin had a Salad Shooter he never used. He felt the name was violent.

So when we blackjacked him, raped him some, tossed him into a canoe in an Olympic sized pool, he wasn’t quite ready.

He thought the pool was the world. He thought the granola  bars on the canoe would have to last a lifetime. He didn’t even think what we’d left him the gun for.

Six days later, we picked him in a chopper. Flew him to HQ. Anointed him with oils and alien blessings.

It might have been what to do. See, we had never done this before.

We gave him some porn and some Scotch. Took him to a stripclub.  Wrestled him naked as a choir of monks chanted solemnly “NO HOMO!”

Then we told him he was Patriarch. There was a better party. Dude, you should have been there.

Then suddenly “Why don’t we just…”

We’d never gotten “why don’t we just…”

He said it all the time.

And we tried it.

It worked.

Which made him the shittiest Patriarch of all time.

Three weeks in, he made a suit of armor. He called himself Professor Malevolence. The Patriarch does what he wants.

With superscience at his disposal, he crafted universal freedoms. He let the women choose a matriarch.

I spent six days in the hospital. Superscience fixed my head and got the bullet out.

He showed us how to shrink ourselves and colonize our own insides. So we know that everything is running smoothly.

I take vacations in myself sometimes. If only for the sake of  nostalgia.

I remember the night when for reasons unknown, he unspooled his DNA. Unhelixed, undone we found him.

He left a note which said “stay cool”.

So thanks again, Fifth Estate.

We all remember what the next guy did.

The first book of mine ever published was Murderland part 1:h8.  I  had sent Murderland 1-3 as one book to Evil Nerd Empire, the sadly now defunct publisher of the first two volumes as one book. The publisher decided it would be better as three separate volumes. The first one was well received, the second came out to not quite enough fanfare and had a less than stellar price point, one that honestly made me not blame people for not wanting to buy it. I hoped that this embattled publisher would be able to put out part 3, but alas, it was not to be.

A few months ago, I was informed that I had the rights to the Murderland trilogy back. Spurred on by some very encouraging and loving feedback from readers of volume one, I decided that now was the time to give people the whole first story arc in the Murderland series and to make these books swanky and cool and uncompromised. I talked to Steven Scott Nelson,  also known as Steven Rage, a former Evil Nerd Empire author who was starting a new publisher called MorbidBooks. I thought it would be good to keep this in the family. I was right.  He was quick, he was polite, he was patient and he would not see my vision compromised.

I also spoke to ace book designer and author and Legumeman publisher Matthew Revert, who generously offered me a totally sweet cover. And with that, a book I started eight years ago is finally unabridged and available to you in paperback and  Kindle formats at a fantastic cover price with a great foreword by Jess Gulbranson. Proud to present to you, the gorgeous Murderland trilogy paperback featuring h8, Life During Wartime and the never before seen Godless.

This is a story about terrorism, about love, about sanity, about war. It is the story of an America where serial killers are not just accepted but embraced as cult celebrities. Where young people dress as their favorite serial killers and go out and start shit. Where pharmacist  Jeremy Jenkins, the most prolific serial killer in history struggles with apocalyptic visions, with the decay of the world around him and with the possibility that he might just be the hero this country needs. It is not a book with easy answers. It is not torture porn. It is surreal and experimental language and structure, comicbook physics and Lovecraftian undertones.

But let’s not take my word for it:

“Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps that meat cleaver is our best hope for salvation. Or maybe he belongs in an asylum. MURDERLAND is a brutally shocking book. Demented. Logical. Disturbing. It can be crudely powerful one moment, tenderly skillful the next, so the reader never knows what’s coming. There’s no way to prepare. No way to protect yourself. Garrett Cook’s work has an edge … and it’s at your throat. “
~ Robert Dunbar, author of THE SHORE and MARTYRS & MONSTERS

“The offbeat brilliance of this book will freak your face off!”-
Gina Ranalli, author of MOTHERPUNCHER and SKY TONGUES

“A savage, very original satire that openly mocks the American demigod-like worship of worthless celebrity with a future where despicable murderers become our new focus of adoration. It’s as farcical as Swift’s “A Modest Proposal,” yet no less poignant.”-

“This book is so beyond good and evil … it’s beyond positive and negative reviews, beyond star-counting, beyond being liked or disliked. It describes a future in which serial killing, as a practice, has been rehabilitated through media exploitation and liberal sensitivity until it’s finally legalized as a sport, with its own scorekeeping commentators and an infatuated subculture of filking fanboys. And then against that dire background, Garret Cook tells a love story — a love triangle, actually, between a sweet young fangirl, her caring boyfriend, and the voices in his head telling him to kill.

If you have the serial-killer infatuation, then you’ve got to read this book. Cook’s portrayal of Reap culture disturbs because it’s so utterly how the world could be, if serial killer infatuation was just ten or fifteen percent broader than it is already.

I’m impressed by the ambition of this book. It’s an interesting new step for the psychonovel; the first-person madman as a mixture of identities and warring tendencies barely aware of each other is a spot-on model of a certain kind of human mind. The best parts, worthy of Jim Thompson, are those subtle moments where we see the warring personalities complaining about one another, manipulating one another, sneaking past each other like grumpy housemates in dark hallways.”-
Mykle Hansen author of Help! A Bear is Eating Me

“It is one thing to create a world. It is another thing to make it real. Cook’s impressive and highly ambitious novel does this admirably.”
 –Sean Keller, screenwriter Dario Argento’s Giallo
And here is Matthew Revert’s gorgeous cover
Murderland cover

Some Good Summer News

Posted: July 13, 2013 in Uncategorized

So, my last post let you all know that I am right now direly in need of more editing work and am once again making a push for my poetry collection Pserpent Psalms, which you can buy for just 1.08. I do need those things. If you have a story or book to edit, I need a few more to make rent on my new place in August and start being a happier person. But this does not need mean my  Summer is shitty and I have no future. Far from it. This is  part of why the fact that I am 400 bucks from my dream hurts me so badly.  It looks like this  Summer you’ll start seeing more of me. 

For one thing, after a seven year journey, my book, Murderland, the first three parts of the Murderland saga, complete, unabridged and in fact enhanced, is now in the hands of Steven Scott Nelson of Morbidbooks and it’s coming in August. If you have wondered what is going to happen to Jeremy Jenkins or you considered buying the books but didn’t, you should check it out next month. It’s going to be huge. Check out Matthew Revert’s kickass cover.




Next up is more publication news. You guys don’t get to see  me in many anthos. I don’t feel like submitting to most of them and when I do, I’m usually a bit off target. But this time, Cody Goodfellow invited me to a Clark Ashton Smith tribute antho and that sounded awesome. So I gave him a story, a departure from my typical work, but something heartfelt and genuine. He liked it and I’m proud of it. The antho is called Deepest, Darkest Eden and features John Shirley, Stoker winner Lisa Morton, Nick Mamatas and more. .And also myself. So, check  it out. I will also be appearing in In Heaven, Everything is Fine: Stories Inspired by the Films of David Lynch edited by Cameron Pierce. Wait til you hear the names involved in  this one and read the stories. You will be blown away.

And lastly, but certainly not least, I have accepted a position at Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing as an Associate Editor. PMMP is an organization of hip up and comers with a diverse aesthetic and a very familial atmosphere. These people are awesome and you want to buy their books or submit books to them for me to edit. I am still more than available for freelancing and in fact could use two or three more novels to completely fill the July docket. 

So, in short, things are looking up for all of us. Particularly those of you who hire me for some dirt cheap editing or buy these awesome upcoming books. Have a great Summer and thanks to all of you who are helping me wake up from this nightmare.