Archive for James Roy Daley

Author Spotlight: ME! M.C. O’Neill (Thanks to Lada Ray)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 25, 2013 by royalmanaball

Hey, Manaballers. I just have to say that I’ve been needing to give the old Royal Manaball more love, but May has been hectic and everything happens all at once, you know? Short story submissions, Novel releases and formatting, and, as always, editing.

Whatever. The work paid off and the tree bringeth me fruit. In my one year of first being published, I’ve had such an amazing experience. Two novels under my belt. Interviews on The Vinny Eastwood and Jeff Daugherty Shows. Interviewed by THEE Maria DeVivo, author of the Amazing Coal Elf (which is soon to be a series of books). A spotlight on the Silver Bullet Sunday, Flash fiction published by the Stephen King of Canada – James Roy Daley, as well as work published in the blog Writing Upside-Down (a big favorite of mine).

Need I brag more? Well, yeah I do. The astounding paranormal author Lada Ray, who pens the mighty Earth Shifter series AND it’s ancillary series The Earth Keeper, actually blogged an Author Spotlight on me! It’s so cool. You can read it right here.

How ya like me now? Photo credit: Indigo Moran

How ya like me now? Photo credit: Indigo Moran

I can’t find the words to thank her enough! It’s a big highlight for me and I am forever grateful, mainly because she is a visionary and a forerunner of the YA Revolution. As many of you may know, the YA Revolution is a collection of YA writers who are driving this reader demographic toward the light and away from that trite nonsense which gluts the market (and may bottom it out) this very day. We aim to hold line – by doing something new.

YA Revolution!

YA Revolution!

Well, I’m going to take the rest of the day off because I need to reboot my brain. You do know that I’m a cyborg? But that’s okay!

Speaking of cyborgs, I just read a book about Mr. T who became a cyborg zombie. No foolin’. It had the funniest line of dialogue in literary history: “Don’t give Mr. T. no jibber-jabber! Lemme eat them brains, fool!”


Lester’s Interdimensional Midnight Outcall

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on March 25, 2013 by royalmanaball

James Roy Daley is not only the CEO of Books of the Dead Press, he is also the amazing author of Terror Town, Into Hell, The Dead Parade and plenty of other tales of terror. Just to warn you, NONE of his works are for the faint of heart. I had written an author’s profile detailing his career a while back and you can read about that here.

Well, today I had the honor of finally being published by Books of the Dead Press after submitting my piece of flash fiction. What a great honor and opportunity!

At first, I was nervous. How could I possibly be worthy of having anything with the BOTDP stamp of approval? We all get these jitters when faced with giants. David felt the same apprehension when facing off with Goliath.

Well, it turned out my aim was true! My piece, Lester’s Interdimensional Midnight Outcall was given the greenlight! Can you guess what the story’s about?

All right, time’s up. Click the pic and devour the creamy goodness.


As always, anything related to James Roy Daley requires a Misfits song. This one is too apropos for my story.

Write Like your Parents are Dead.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 24, 2013 by royalmanaball

Back in graduate school, I had quite the struggle with the concept of content. Art can be anything in these post-modernist times. During my crits, I was never given the golf-claps like some of my colleagues would enjoy. Frankly, I’m quite glad I got my ass kicked. It only managed to develop me and by the time my thesis show was up on the walls, I had secured record-breaking attendance for the gallery and graduated second in my program. Nice!

One thing that got me out of my shell was advice from a professor of mine who said, “Paint like your parents are dead.” Whaaa?

Eventually, I got the message. Don’t hold back. Be dangerous. Disclose. Be naked. You simply cannot push envelopes while nestled in your comfort zone.

Yesterday, I had written a piece of Bizarro flash fiction intended for James Roy Daley’s Books of the Dead Press. It turned out to be too long for the site’s guidelines, but I still had a blast busting it out, and now, I want to continue on with future installments of it! Let me just say, the thing is out there. It’s mean. Read it here.

Whether you manaballers like it or not is neither here nor there, but I did feel a great sense of relief having written a tale off the trail of my beaten path. Sure, I may have lost Tweeps over this ditty, but I had also received some props.

Point is, art applies to writing. Writing is an art in and of itself. Reject your fears and hang-ups and inhibitions and battle them with your unfettered imaginations. And never apologize.

Write like your parents are dead.



Flash Fiction – Bojingle’s Java Bean Trading Company (Second Interview).

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on March 23, 2013 by royalmanaball

I wanted to submit this story to James Roy Daley’s Books of the Dead Press Flash Fiction Review, but it’s too long for that venue. I’ll link this back to him anyway. Here’s my aborted submission due to lack of brevity, but you all might like it. Warning: It’s Bizarro and not typical of my prose and not YA.

Bojingle’s Java Bean Trading Company (Second Interview)

Wild eyebrows. The regional manager tapping away across the desk from me has some really wild eyebrows. Like, there is something special about this guy. He probably has a distinct blood type that makes one a regional manager from birth. I wish at that moment that I have hemo-vision and I could see his awesome blood trucking through miles of veins and arteries behind his skin. There is true gold in there and I feel a pang of terror and I hate myself for a split second.

It’s one of those offices constructed only for him; only for use on certain occasions like interviews. I knew that if I get hired here that I’d never see this man again unless there was a mass shooting or a horrible embezzlement. Closing my eyes, I imagine some crazy kid shooting the shit out of the coffee shop while I am on my shift. Like that insane guy in that Uwe Boll movie.

I like Uwe Boll. Nobody likes him, but he hates Michael Bay and I hate Michael Bay because he can’t make a burly movie. Watching one of Michael Bay’s films is like going on a date with a really hot girl and not having a hope for getting any. I feel a connection with that. An Uwe-connection! I want to join a tribe where Uwe Boll is the chief. He and I could go on a vision quest to Hollywood to slay Michael Bay and then I would become a man. A real one.

The regional manager stops being busy on his terminal and turns to me. He turns to me in grand style with his golden blood. Motherfucker. This guy is a real man – I can feel it!

RM: “Okay, Mr. [NAME REDACTED], it looks like the store’s manager was really impressed with your first go-around with us. I see that you have all the educational requirements and personal interests we are looking for. Nice…

Yes, I agreed in my mind. That is nice. His voice is nice (of course). Really mellow and stuff. Mine can’t match it, I’m sad to say.

RM: “So, let’s hear what you have to tell us. What’s up with you, buddy?”

I’m a buddy. YES! I’m a buddy and this is good.

ME: “I’m… You know, looking for work in this sector and stuff…”

That too was good. That was tight. It would suffice and I think he’d follow me on Twitter and shit. I’m a buddy!

RM: “Yep. We like to see that. That’s good.”

YES! I think. Wonderful. I knew it. I kind of hate him; I want to kill him, but I knew this already. Coffee-pumping!

ME: “Good to know.” (I mean that with sincerity).

RM: “Look, I’m not going to pull punches here. I want to really know you. What can you do for Bojingle’s?”

ME: “I’m always on time and I’m a hard worker,” I recite by rote. A classic clincher.

RM: “Sure, sure. But… what is special about you? What is unique?”

I can shit monkeys, I think. I can lay baboons out of my asshole and they can pick up the slack during a hot breakfast rush while all the cokehead, corporate bastards like you need to get up and go!  FIGHT! All the women in the shop will be amazed as I turd baboon-baristas out of my butt. They’ll love it and you would too. They might want to love me more than you in that moment.

ME (muffled, inaudible): “I wrestled a kangaroo when I was five.”

RM: “See, [NAME REDACTED], that’s what I’m talking about! That’s what-the-fuck I’m talking about! But we need to see balls at Bojingle’s. Have you got ‘em?”

Balls. I have balls.

ME: “Yes, I have balls.”

RM: “What about your package?”

Package. It’s a word that defies definition and I get scared. It implies “stuff.”

ME: “Packages are good.”

RM (embarrassed, but not really): “I mean your junk. Your cock and balls, dude. We at Bojingle’s know what sells and we need anacondas to keep the ladies coming back. No trouser-mice allowed. So, stand up and show me what you got!”

Cocks and coffee. It’s a solid philosophy, I agree, and a good business acumen. As the early-evening sun sprays across the white wall behind him, I see a faux-façade of an inverted pentagram emerge from it. Within the star’s strokes, a graphic of a goat’s head is nestled. That’s metal. So fucking metal here.

I imagine Vince Neil stopping by the shop while I’m on shift and he tells me that I’m “fucking metal” as I make a hot macchiato for him. It’s the ultimate. I can’t wait for the third and fourth interviews, I think as I stand up and unzip.


Author Spotlight: James Roy Daley

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 8, 2012 by royalmanaball

Author, musician and Books of the Dead Press impresario James Roy Daley is featured this transmission.

Daley is a talent in the horror business who will one day, and soon, sweep the genre and steer it into a new direction.

When I was a little kid, I had always loved that song The Monster Mash. As corny as it may sound today, it conjured up the coolest amalgam of horror that a child of my bravery could muster. Vampires, werewolves, Franken-monsters and zombies all having a wild party – and you’re invited.

JR does the same, but there is no hokey levity to any of his yarns.

Now, I’ve read some detractors plead that he should choose a genre and stick with it, but why should he? He can take a plot that begins with a mass murder, shove it into inter-dimensional damnation and then twist it into solipsistic, gothic horror. And it works!

This mix isn’t hackneyed Freddie Versus Jason dreck, but more like the mindbending insanity of Cemetery Man.

The focal point of his horror is the resort town of Cloven Rock. I believe it’s off Lake Superior on the Canadian side, but that doesn’t matter. All of his stories somehow generate from this locale and tangentially branch from thereout.

No boogeyman is too much for this author to spin into some of the most soul-crushing renditions of terror, and if you like gore, he doesn’t skimp on the red stuff. Or the green. Or black, for that matter. I hope he never writes a pop-up book, because it would leave you covered in stinking grue by the last page.

Featured works include:

Terror Town – It’s what I consider his magnum oPUS. I capped pus, because there’s plenty of it within the pages. Good gods! If you ever wanted to know what spawned vampires, you’ll have your answer here. The worst monster is a very human serial killer. He’s so terrible that Albert Fish would be like: “Damn, dude! Chill out!” The Joker has been considered to be one of the top-five biggest baddies in literary history, but at least the Joker is loveable if you’re an anarchist. This person of interest in Terror Town is so vile that I found myself wanting to hop into my Kindle and kick this guy’s ass. Unfortunately, I would lose because he’s so damn LUCKY! And this factor makes you hate him all the more as to where you will root for the vamps overrunning the town. I mean, this book really pissed me off just for him alone and I have to give it five stars on that.

The Dead Parade – Take that Zuni fetish from Trilogy of Terror and turn it into your best friend when you have to go up against a Satanic shit-gang of amoral lunatics. Oh yeah, and the town gets destroyed in the process.

Zombie Kong – So King Kong gets zombified. It happens. As a Cloven Rock suburb is trampled by his disintegrating, pustulating corpse, a service-sector ne’er-do-well who has yet to get laid decides to take advantage of this crisis and go on a rampage. The Forty-Year-Old Virgin subverted.

I had already reviewed his novel Into Hell on an earlier post which focuses on a woman’s descent into Old Scratch’s domain. You gotta read it.

This Canuck has horror on the brain and he even writes songs about it. Here we have a talent who loves this genre and so much so that he dedicates his entire soul to it and you’ll be sure to enjoy being disgusted as much as he does when you read.

I just HAD to add this tune by the Misfits because it perfectly describes what you will experience while you try to read this mighty man’s wordsmithing –

I promise – All hell breaks loose in every one of this writer’s purchases.

Into HELL with James Roy Daley

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on September 30, 2012 by royalmanaball

James Roy Daley is one of those horror novelists that drives his imagination to excess. As I’ve stated in previous reviews, horror is a gratuitous medium and this kind of explicit detail is necessary to instill the emotion of horror in the reader.

J.R. Daley does not skimp on detail. I promise.

Into Hell is one of those treasures that really knocks Stephen King from his throne. I’m not kidding. The impressive thing is, Daley can do this without inventing new monsters a ’la Clive Barker. Don’t get me wrong, that’s an impressive feat to accomplish, but taking time-honored boggarts and subverting their tropes makes the horror all the more… alien.  By doing this, Daley throws you, the reader into an uncanny valley where even the bad guys aren’t comfortable and in control. Talk about disorienting.

Our heroine goes to hell in this book. The title isn’t figurative or a metaphor. No, she sincerely rots in the abyss throughout its pages. Why she must, you don’t truly know or really care by the end of the book. He doesn’t touch on this too much because the terror begins immediately only to have the plot shift halfway through. Before the first chapter is finished, you feel like you are in a solipsistic playset owned by Leopold and Loeb. Genius, relentless, and murderous – fascist. There’s two scoops of goop on every page and I guarantee this. But, c’mon folks, hell has to be burly, right? Daley has made this so and you aren’t ever quite certain of where you are, even when things look mundane. If hell is this awful, I swear I’m going to be good from now on. No more premarital sex. No more cussin’. I’ll even tithe to the United Way.

Most of you reading this have played survival horror video games. Forbidden Siren, Silent Hill, Res. Evil; you know the lot. The feel of this book is lockstep with that immediacy and I even found myself tapping my Kindle in hopes that I could control Stephenie so she could do the right thing. Alas, it is only a book. It’s only a book…

Get Into Hell if you really want to experience a mirthless horror (there is no levity here – none) that will leave you second-guessing your atheism. This Canuck has crafted a world so terrible that you can once again fear Ol’ Scratch. Canada doesn’t mess around. With punk rock they spawned Dayglo Abortions and with literature they present James Roy Daley.

Six hundred sixty-six stars.

I Am Officially a Horror Novelist

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on September 17, 2012 by royalmanaball

Renown writer of bloody gut-crunchers James Roy Daley has been following me on Twitter and while stumbling upon his awesome blog , I happened to find this cool post regarding marketing for horror authors. I mean, he wrote Terror Town, after all! I promise to review that one soon.

The site gets massive traffic and I figured, after some careful soul-searching, why not apply for the promo? I can always use the traffic as it stands, so why not get some direction from one of the most vile, revolting, stomach-churning writers alive (or undead)?

I didn’t know if I could qualify. I’m YA after all, and I had always thought of myself as paranormal/occult romance. Then, after taking inventory of all the crazy shit that happens in my book (including the next volume   – already in progress), I figured that I am a horror novelist.

Thinking quick, I played by the application’s rules and wrote my less-than-300-word essay. It felt like high school all over again. I wanted to win that lifetime’s supply of Ovaltine, damn it!

Pure comedy. Here’s the letter I wrote thee James Roy to plead my case:

“Dear Mr. Daley,

Here is the official description of my book:

‘On an ancient Earth not long before the dawn of mankind, a great and terrible war is imminent between mortals and the demonic forces from the hells. It falls on one young maiden’s shoulders to fight back the armies of the damned. Read Celestials and enjoy this supernatural tale of a frightening yesterday!

INFERNAL INVASION! The bowels of Hell open wide and demonic forces attack the living on an ancient Earth shortly before the birth of humanity!

Celestials is a blend of Sixteen Candles meets the books of the Nephilim detailing a world not long before ours, but long forgotten. A planetary romance mixed with urban fantasy, readers from age thirteen to one hundred thirteen will enjoy this maiden’s fantastic journey into the paranormal and supernatural.’

“I’m not sure if you handle young adult novels, but I suppose this book would be categorized as “horror.” It has assassinations, demonic possessions and evil parents who turn out to be devil worshipers. It also contains child sacrifice (and the devouring of the corpse), child abduction (x2), secret Satanic societies, and a young father in the throes of divorce by his Satanic gold-digging wife. Demons, devils, and Lucifer all make an appearance as well. Then there’s a spoiled teenager who gets pregnant by an incubus. The finale involves a big Godzilla-like destruction of society by behemoths. There are more vomit scenes in it too than your average John Waters’ flick. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a kid’s book that’s fun for the whole family, but I guess it’s pretty horrific.

Best Regards,”

What in the hell’s wrong with me? I mean, sure, my mother hated me, but come on! No wonder I left therapy after one session. Whatever – the book got accepted and I’ll post an update when James has it up and running. Can’t wait!

ARRRRGH!!! I make le horror!


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