This is the Tumblr of writer Eddie Wright.
This is where he posts quotes and pics and things about things that he likes.
Head over to Study Group to read a brand new Tyranny update.
For one week only you can get a signed copy of Tyranny of the Muse #1 in print for just $3.99!
The issue normally goes for $5.99. So that’s a pretty sweet deal. Plus, you get a free sticker! And it’s signed!
That’s 48 pages of misery, anxiety, and depression for only 4 bucks! What a deal!
This edition is VERY limited and only a few remain in stock. So once it’s gone, it’s gone!
The sale ends Friday, July 4th.
Dave Chisholm is absolutely killing it on Tyranny of the Muse #3!
And I’m fucking jazzed!
"I don’t think this is meant for me."
Tyranny of the Muse #2 page 16:
He’s only a bit
And he’s only a piece
He’s a fractured memory in the mind of a time-traveling boy
He’s a broken part of sadness and confusion
He’s a broken part of misery and convulsion
He’s a concussion
He’s a heart attack
He’s a cigarette
He’s always there and never new
He’s the breaking point of everything good
He’s the broken one
He’s the damaged part
He’s the always everything
He’s the empty apartment
He’s the changing the bed sheets
He’s the coffee-stained teeth
Fluttering heart beats
And breaking heartbeats
And everything else that goes too
He’s the part of the boy
The time-traveling boy
The ugly boy
He’s the part of him
There’s the decision maker
There’s the one who calls for the goods
There’s the god
The god that makes him who he is
The him he is
Is the him he is
And they are us
And we are falling down the stairs
The detective man
The smoking man
The drinking man
The coffee man
The man he’s not
The man he wants to be
The man who drives like a lunatic
The man who carries a gun
The man who’s lived
The man who never cries
The man who never dies
The man he called Lane Laszlo
The man who goes
And never knows
And always moves
And never dies
Lane Laszlo is the him he wants to be
He’s the him who knows the secret of Everything
He’s the detective
He’s the P.I.
He’s the dick
He’s the way he never was
He’s the way he wanted to be
He’s a combination
He’s a fragmented reflection
He’s a breaking point
He’s a nervous twitch
He’s a paranoia salad
He’s a stream of consciousness
He’s a manipulated memory
He’s an exploited thought
He’s a stolen story
He’s a creation
He’s a figment
He’s Lane Laszlo
But he won’t be forever
And that’s the way it is
That’s the way it always is
The 1st edition printing of Tyranny of the Muse #1 is just about gone. And once this baby is gone, it’s GONE.
You can get a SIGNED copy here:
Or you can an unsigned one from Bird Cage Bottom Books:
Once these are all sold out, I’ll be releasing a 2nd edition printing with a new cover (and a few edits).
Then comes issue 2 in print!
So get in on this while you can.
A peek at a chapter from my forthcoming novella featuring private eye Lane Laszlo.
This is a work in progress.
Eggs. Black coffee. Half a grapefruit. He popped the toast before it was done because he was sick of waiting. He was already waiting so why wait for more. Waiting’s for suckers, he thought. So he buttered the half-toasted bread and plopped in the old recliner and flipped on the tube. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly was on. He smiled and settled in.
He knocked back a sip and winced from the craziness. He made it strong and brutal and loved it like that. He swallowed it down and happily sighed. Relaxed. Calm. Cool. Collected.
He sopped some yolk with a folded half of half-toast and jammed the dripping yellow into his mouth. It tasted good and greasy and fattening. He took another sip and looked into Clint’s eyes. He looked into those weathered, leathered peepers and saw what the world could do to a man. He saw the strength in silence and the fear in stillness. He saw this man, this man with no name and smiled. Life was good. Life was right. Life was fine.
And then the call came.
“What do I gotta do?” Lane asked after grabbing the receiver.
"What you do." It said.
“And what’s that?”
“What you need.”
“Should I even ask for details?”
“You’ll get your imperatives.”
“Oh good, my imperatives.” Lane said while mimicking a jack off.
“Don’t sass me.”
“So what is it? Missing person? Cheating fuckface? Murder?”
“You know I don’t know.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you don’t know nothing.”
"So what do I do, then?"
“I don’t know. Wait, I guess.”
“Lots of waiting, eh?”
“You in or not?” It said.
There was a pause as Lane watched Clint watch Van Cleef watching Wallach watching Van Cleef watching Clint watching Wallach. Eyes. Hands. Guns. Good. Bad. Ugly. The suspense. The standoff.
“Still there?” It asked.
“Yeah, I’m in. Is that it?”
“Basically. Sending over the imperatives now.”
Lane stood and carried the phone over the to the small, ancient printer in the corner. He waited as the nicotine-stained machine spewed forth a long, ticker tape-like piece of paper. He cradled the receiver between in his head and shoulder and ripped the paper from the tiny beast’s mouth.
THE FICTION IS NOT WHAT THIS IS / THE REAL IS NOT THE FICTION THAT THIS IS / AND IF YOU CHANGE THEN THE CHANGE IS WHAT THIS IS / THERE IS A RIVER RUNNING BENEATH OUR FEET AND WE KNOW YOU CAN FEEL IT / YOU WILL GO TO 7 MILBERG PLACE AND MAKE THIS WHAT IT IS / INVESTIGATE NOTHING /YES? /YES / THANK YOU / YOU’RE WELCOME
“So what’s this pay?” he said as he carried the paper back to the recliner.
"What do you think?"
“Hm, I’m shocked,” Lane said.
“Bigger picture. You know how it is, Laszlo.”
“I hope so.”
Lane sat down, finished off the joe, glanced at the flick, and wished he had a cigar like Clint’s.
“What are you doing, Lane?”
“Watching a movie.”
“Like you don’t know.”
“Really, I have no idea.”
Lane turned and looked back to the security camera near the ceiling. He saw the flashing red light that told him It was watching. He smirked and shook his head and waved.
“I can see you,” he said.
“But I can’t see you. Not right now.”
“You in the shitter or something?”
“No. I’m just not watching right now is all. It’s not an all the time thing, ya know. I’ve got something in line.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“Bigger fish sometimes, Laszlo. You ain’t all there is.”
Lane felt strangely insulted, and that made him uncomfortable. There was an awkward silence that stiffened the muscles in his neck.
“Listen, Laszlo,” It said, “All I know is that you’re being called up. I know that you’re going to work. I know that you’re needed right now. And I know you’re gonna feel a little different for awhile. But It told me you’d help. It told me the way.”
“How’s this time gonna be different?”
“Will I know?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“Well what am I supposed to do?”
“You’re a detective, Laszlo. Detect things.”
“No I’m not.”
“C’mon, Lane. You know what you gotta do. You know what you gotta do to solve this fuckin’ thing.”
“So just do it.”
Lane sighed and sat for a long one as he watched the Good put a bullet in the Bad.
“Okay,” he said as Van Cleef’s bad body rolled into the grave of the Unknown. “I’ll do what I gotta do.”
And they hung up.
And the Good and the Ugly stood at the grave of the Unknown and the Everything and Lane just kept on breathing.
A bit from issue 3.
Check out a penciled page of Tyranny of the Muse #3 by artist Dave Chisholm.
This scene takes place a few years before the events of Tyranny 1 and 2 and shows Bonnie before she was the inspiration dealing “muse” we know and love.
Dave’s take on this world is killer and I’m thrilled for you to see more.
Tyranny #2 is in its home stretch on Study Group so head over there to catch up.
News on when you can read Tyranny #3 is coming soon!