Writing Progress: Fall 2018

the third book in my Groundbreakers series. Hooray! The Groundbreaker books have all been shorter than my other novels, but nonetheless, that means I’m on my way to having seven novels finished. (And one novelette—I’m not forgetting about my invisible friends in Shadow Sideways!)

By the way, my tentative title for the Groundbreakers third book is ‘Blades of the Demigod.’ My intent was to always finish the third book Groundbreaker book and then release all the books together in a box set. But halfway through ‘Blades,’ I decided it needed to be more of a conclusion to a trilogy, as opposed to simply the third in a series of interconnected adventures. I thought the box set as a whole would be more satisfying to the reader if there was an underlying thread (or threat) that runs through all three books, which is then wrapped up in Book 3.

That plot point was the Ancient Ones, which were introduced in Book 1, and which are a big presence in the first two books, always there as this incomprehensible, immense threat in the background. You see, it’s revealed in Book 1 that the villainous Issulthraqis want to reunite the Ancient Ones and used their combined powers to re-write the world. My first iteration of Book 3 was a sort of detour adventure, that veered away from the Issulthraqis plot. But I realized with a few minor adjustments, I could rework the plot to intro more stakes in the third and final story, and to help create closure for the three books as a whole.

My original idea was to write six or seven Groundbreakers books, with the Ancient Ones threat always there in the background, but now, if I write a fourth book in the series, I can be completely free to take the story wherever I want. Or, if I move to something completely new, then at least the series has a bit of closure for now.

Which brings me to my next chunk of big news! I’ve already started my next novel. Maybe not the smartest move, considering ‘Blades’ is still in first-draft mode—and also I need to do some post-publication tweaks to Books 1 and 2 to make the story cohesive—but I was too excited about my new idea to hold off!

Fans of Idyll will be happy to know that I’m writing in science fiction again. This time, near-future sci-fi. The story is about what comes next, after iPhones and social media. What will it be like to live in a world with A.I.s and organic upgrades that make us smarter, prettier, and more long-lived. Of course, as in all sci-fi, the world is never as bright and as shiny as it seems.

My working title for this new book is ‘The Fire and the Burned.’ My plan is for it to be a single, standalone novel. If I can finish it (working that third Groundbreakers book in the meantime, here and there) then I will have eight books in my oeuvre! Not quite Stephen King’s, but nothing to sneeze at either! Here’s to making it to double-digits one day!

I just read: Three Dark Crowns

Three Dark Crowns has a killer premise. It’s Game of Thrones meets The Hunger Games. Every so often, a set of girl triplets is born on Fennbirn Island, and each sister becomes the champion, or ‘Queen,’ of one of three rival factions on the island. When the Queens turn sixteen, they have to fight it out—assassinate their sisters—to claim the throne. It’s like Battle Royale with real royals. Pretty cool, right?

Author Kendare Blake is working in popular territory here. Luckily, she spices up the mix with intriguing and relatable characters, and several good twists. For one thing, mystical powers are not a rare thing on Fennbirn. Each of the three factions specializes in a different type of supernatural gift. The Elementals can control fire, water, wind, and earth (to varying degrees). The Naturalists can tap into the life energy of plants—and control animal familiars. The Poisoners are immune and ingenious when it come to poisons (duh!). Another surprising twist on the expected tropes: Two of the Queens, Katharine (the Poisoner) and Arsinoe (the Naturalist), start the book with extremely weak, nearly non-existent powers. As the lethal contest approaches, they are big-time underdogs to their Elemental sister Mirabella. Another unexpected surprise: the non-underdog is probably the most noble, most compassionate character of the three.

The novel follows the mostly-isolated plot lines of all three sisters, and it’s fun to pick your favorite sister and watch her story develop. (I liked the Poisoner’s story the best.) At some points, I started to get confused about which supporting character belonged in which sister’s storyline. There are a few ‘best friend’ characters that start to blur together, and all three sisters are dominated by three different matriarchs with questionable intentions. But if you enjoy the intrigues and intricacies of Game of Thrones, then you’ll probably enjoy the challenge of keeping everything straight. The book is written with a Young Adult vibe, so it honestly never gets too complicated.

Despite the homocidal premise, the story never gets too violent, although it gets a little gory in spots. (One of the sisters resorts to ‘low,’ blood magic to attempt to gain an advantage in the upcoming fight.) As I mentioned, there are a few good twists. And although the ending felt a little loosey-goosey to me, it also included two real jaw-dropping surprises that had me clamoring to check out the sequel. Lucky for me, I’m a few years behind on discovering this series, and the sequel, One Dark Throne, is already out!

Idyll Excerpt: The Streets of Belleterre

In honor of Westworld Season 2 premiering this weekend, here is a sample of my own sci-fi Western novel, Idyll. Idyll is now available for $0.99 here on Amazon!


The afternoon sun descended beneath the bluffs, and the quartz hills wrapped themselves in velveteen shadows. Samuel found a noisy stream, broke down his tack, and scrubbed Titan where a thick scum of lather had gathered around her saddle. The mare wandered down the bank to chew through a stand of tall grass, and Samuel squatted by the water—at a respectful distance—and watched the surface glimmer as it bustled past. Their father owned a high-priced casting net just to fish these streams. Alma Starboard had teased him because there was no place in Glenn County to use such a net, unless he wanted to try chucking it into wells or rain barrels. Samuel warily dipped his hand into the frigid water and watched the current form hillocks as it bulged and rushed around his fingers. For all he knew, Josiah Starboard had stopped at this very spot.

Samuel imagined that he was speaking to him.

“Is that why you told us it took ten days to get to Belleterre? Because you spent a full day fishing? “I’m going to beat you there, Dad. Nine days.”

Within ten minutes, he and Titan were on the move again. As he cleared each ridge Samuel expected to be suddenly staring down at a crowded city of timber, aluminum, and live glass. He remembered his father’s reports of streets covered with pearlescent river stones and three-story houses with foundations of laser-cut rock. Josiah painted pictures of deafening waterfalls powering gigantic mills and propelling water through a webwork of aqueducts and aluminum pipes. Belleterre seemed to be a hectic paradise with its toy stores, puppet-shows, and men selling food or candy on every street corner.

What if Belleterre had recovered since the Lullaby? At this very moment, the market might be teeming with merchants, hawking their wares, roaring to be heard over the river. Samuel imagined boys sluicing horse manure off the curbs. What if these city folk had been living their lives in busy luxury while Samuel and his family had been living in isolation, withering away bit by bit? Logically Samuel knew that this would be the best possible scenario, but the idea made him want to scream. They had waited for three years. Suffered through—and wasted—three years.

He imagined the city folk gaping at him. What would they think of this refugee in a torn shirt and stitched boots? He had expected rough riding through the quartz hills, and he was wearing his dusty chaps, which were discolored and scarred, with flaps of torn fabric hanging off of them. Samuel was certain that he looked like a hermit. He wished he had followed Walt’s example and taken a bath this morning. He had shaved on the day that they left their father’s ranch because he had fully expected to find people at the county seat. Since that disappointment, he hadn’t thought about shaving at all, and now his beard was tight and itchy, a webwork of ivy on his face.

After another fifteen minutes of climbing, Samuel saw the corner of a building emerge from behind a steep slope of rock. The highway crested a hill, and Samuel had his first good look at Belleterre. His notions of loud merchants and busy street cleaners quickly died as he stared down at dozens of dark row houses and empty storefronts. The buildings seemed exhausted somehow. As he looked closer, Samuel realized why: Where wood showed, the timbers were black and sagging. Broken panes of live glass littered the streets—crooked mirrors shining up to the sky.

There had been a huge fire here. Half of the city had been razed.

In a moment of horror, Samuel realized he was very visible on the hilltop. There could be lookouts hidden among the buildings, watching the road for careless travelers. He turned back down the hill and led Titan to a scrubby niche in the rocks, a spot where the highest buildings wouldn’t have an angle to see them. He dismounted and tethered Titan to a deadfall. Then he unlatched his chaps and his jangling spurs. He peeled the bulky water pouch from his back.

A footpath zigzagged from the hidden niche up into the hills. The path was sheltered on both sides by steep embankments and scrubby conifers. Samuel scuttled from one hiding place to another, always watching the burned out buildings for signs of life. Soot-blackened windows stared down at him like the mascara-smeared eyes of world-weary burlesque dancers. But the windows were empty.

Soon he was ducking through an archway and into the city. He saw that someone had chipped pieces off of the arch’s quartz pylons, probably to feed a rock-roller. Samuel reached over his shoulder and shook his own rock-roller carbine. Its ammo of polished pebbles clattered in the stock. Samuel remembered Uncle Warren’s stories of rival militias battling in the chaos that followed the epidemic. Apparently those skirmishes had spread to Belleterre—or perhaps the skirmishes had started here. Either way, the men who had conquered this city were probably still holed up somewhere in these buildings.

Samuel’s heart was pounding high in his chest, threatening to choke him with each beat.
For the next twenty minutes Samuel worked his way past deserted inns, saloons, and barter shops. Several buildings had collapsed, and the aluminum skeletons of porches, roofs, and plumbing systems had been twisted and dragged into the avenue to create ramshackle barricades.

He weaved between shards of live glass, careful to not cut his shoes or make noise. Live glass was one of the Settlement’s most precious commodities. Each square-meter was honeycombed with hundreds of tiny cells that expanded or contracted based on temperature changes. The cells were designed to store and multiply energy that could be transferred to mechanical devices, stoves, or incandescent lights. Even broken panes of live glass were valuable as insulation materials. And yet, here were thousands of square-meters (shattered or not) that had not been salvaged. The survivors in Belleterre must have had more dire priorities. Or perhaps there were no survivors at all.

Samuel crossed a footbridge that resembled two squat staircases fastened together—one going up and the other coming down. Beneath the bridge, a section of the Kepler River foamed through a narrow canal. All around him, the metallic roar of the continent’s second-largest river echoed between buildings, rattled shards of glass, and settled as an uncomfortable weight between Samuel’s ears. He could see the city’s famous mill wheels, but the wheels had ground to a halt. The falls thundered off their useless paddles. Water sloshed over the sides of bent aqueducts, falling and slapping the ground. The clamor of millions of liters shook the city as if it were a gigantic caged creature. But the river raged at no one. The city was empty.

Belleterre was dead. They had trekked for nine days and subjected their mother to stresses that had nearly killed her. All of that suffering had been for nothing.

Samuel was ready to be away from these claustrophobic streets. The oppressive noise and humidity was settling on his shoulders, turning his clothes cold and heavy. The buildings loomed over him. He looked up, and the view made his head swirl. He came to an intersection between four hulking buildings and turned toward the sunset. He was trudging across a wide road that must have been one of the city’s main avenues. He didn’t worry about being seen; there was no one to see him.

Soon he was crossing a covered bridge over a large, squared-off canal. He watched the water bluster away under him, foaming angrily over splintered moorings and half-sunken boats, and his stomach roiled because all this water—all these buildings and manmade things so close to it—seemed unnatural. Samuel could not swim; he had never wanted to learn. He had a cattleman’s natural disdain for bodies of moving water. This city’s humidity—all its closeness—felt sickening to him. It was no surprise that the Belleterrans had all been wiped out by a contagion. Maybe their corpses had been swept away by the river, similar to cattle in a flash flood.

Samuel wanted to be in the saddle and racing away, far and fast and riding strong. But he was on foot and probably a full kilometer from his horse. His escape would be so slow, it almost didn’t seem worth it. Belleterre was dead. And Marathon might be dead too.
Samuel made himself walk. With his first step he stumbled on a loose flagstone on the bridge. The flat rock was angled wrongly and obviously out of place—as if someone had set it there specifically to trip him up.

Too late, Samuel realized he had triggered a booby trap.

A beam of wood crashed through the bridge’s aluminum canopy. Samuel flinched, raising his hands to his face to ward off any debris that might be flung up when the huge weight hit the stones before him. But the beam of wood didn’t fall normally; it arced toward Samuel, swooping to meet his knees as it accelerated to a bone-smashing velocity.

Samuel saw thick coils of hempen rope tied to each end of the beam. It was a pendulum. He didn’t have time to bend his legs and jump; he dove forward into the empty air above the hurtling beam. But a splintered edge caught his boot, and his body was flung backward and upward. He landed face first on the stone paving. Samuel stayed there, crumpled, for a split second. Then he remembered that the trap was a pendulum. It was coming back for him. Samuel rolled as fast as he could to avoid the beam’s lethal backswing. He fell off the bridge.

And the river swallowed him, pulling with an instant and nearly irresistible power. Samuel observed his situation with cold detachment, perhaps he was dazed from his fall onto the stone bridge. In some dim corner of his mind, he was considering the fact that he couldn’t swim. Simultaneously, he was absurdly fascinated by the novel sensation of being submerged in moving water.

He felt as if he were being propelled by a hundred mismatched cogs, all greased and moving incredibly fast. He was flung sideways, the current twisting his shoulders. Now he was face-up, now he was plunged headfirst to the cold, dark bottom. Samuel thrust out his hand, and his fingers raked up a slurry of mud. He rolled and plowed his heels into the muck, hopping along the bottom, going with the current, slowing his momentum. He straightened his legs and found that he could hold his head above the surface. Still, he took in a mouthful of frothy water as he tried to gasp for air.

The current pushed him toward a shattered skiff. The stern of the flat-bottomed boat had settled against the side of a broken building so that it formed a ramp out of the canal. Samuel grabbed the boat and clung for his life.

Now that he was within an arm’s length of dry land, his state-of-shock calm quickly flowed away. This new possibility of salvation made the imminent threat of drowning more palpable—more horrifying. His heart was pumping uncontrollably, as if the ferocious current was rushing through his chest. His legs were as flimsy as reeds beneath him. Did he possess the strength to pull himself out of the water?

He did. Samuel heaved himself up onto the slanted planks, which didn’t budge under his weight. Somehow, the strap of his rock-roller had shifted so that the carbine was stationed across his chest, not his back. Water dripped from his nose and from the twin prongs of the weapon. He wondered if water would affect its electromagnetic sling. Samuel climbed until he was teetering on the lip of a ragged hole in the side of a ruined building.

Its interior was dark and expansive. Here and there, damaged columns broke the darkness like jagged teeth. He looked down and saw that this improvised ramp had been tied to the building with ropes, not unlike the cords that had bound the booby trap on the bridge.

“Oh.” Samuel said. A flicker of green fabric moved among the shadows. He pulled the butt of his rock-roller to his shoulder.

An explosion went off in his right leg. He looked down and saw that his knee was wrapped in glittering wire. The wire crackled with blue lightning. Samuel could see and smell the fabric of his dungarees beginning to burn, but he couldn’t move to beat out the flames. He was paralyzed. His brain wouldn’t work. He couldn’t speak—couldn’t scream. The world seemed to spin around the fulcrum of his burning knee. Again he tried to grab it; instead he just pitched forward against the stone floor.


Currently Distracting Me: Halt and Catch Fire

I’m moving along pretty well on my author projects this winter, but I’ve also been enjoying some shows, books, and games in my bits of free time.

Today I want to talk about ‘Halt and Catch Fire,’ which I’ve been bingeing on Netflix over the last two months. It’s been awesome! It’s been a long time since I’ve looked forward to a show so much that I would shudder giddily before each new episode. Even now, just hearing the theme song kick in is enough to trigger Pavolvian glee.

Over four seasons and forty epsiodes, the show follows four brilliant characters (4.5 if you count Toby Huss’s character!) through the personal-computing and networking boom of the 80s and early 90s. Each character brings different skill-sets and philosophies to several different startup ventures, and although the characters are fictional, we see them have a hand in several real-world advancements.

Lee Pace

Season 1 is all about the four characters trying to create the first laptop. (Eventually, Macintosh eats their lunch.) Season 2 is about creating a fledgling online community. Season 3… well, I don’t want to give away the plots for all four seasons. But I will say that part of the wonder of the show is seeing one character come up with the germ of an idea and then see another character building on it, (or screwing it up in a way that gives birth to something completely new). Eventually the idea takes shape and you recognize it as something we all know (anti-virus software, a version of Craigslist, etc.)

I’m going to recap all four characters, but I’ll use the actor names, because the cast is absolutely awesome and they deserve as much name-recognition as possible.

Mackenzie Davis

Lee Pace plays the entrepreneur of the group, he’s the iconoclast who brings people together and pushes them to disrupt their normal ways of doing things, although he’s criticized for never actually coming up with any ideas on his own.

Mackenzie Davis is the genius programmer and game developer. Her weaknesses are that she can be ridiculously stubborn and idealistic.

Scoot McNairy plays the engineer (the hardware guy) who is a married father of two. I think I related the most to him. His character flaw is that he can be manic (at home and at work).

Finally, there’s Kerry BIshé, who plays the sleeper-hit best character on the show. She has a mix of I.T. and business skills, and she’s the voice of reason and backbone of several of the team’s endeavors. She’s can also be a lethal, c-suite cutthroat (to friends and foes) when she thinks that’s what’s required.


Scoot McNairy

The four main characters clash a lot—end up in out-and-out conflict, fall in love, fall out of love, reunite, separate—over the four seasons of the show, The character arcs and realistic conflicts in Halt and Catch Fire really make each season crackle with energy, even if there are no hitmen or gangsters anywhere in sight.

Not to make this post any more geeky, but again and again I kept thinking that Marvel/Disney should hire the show’s creators, Christopher Cantwell and Christopher C. Rogers to reboot the Fantastic Four with the same sort of team and family conflicts that they bring to HACF. Hell, they could even use the same cast with some of the same character traits in place. Lee Pace is Mr. Fantastic. Mackenzie Davis could be an excellent gender-flipped version of the hot-headed Human Torch. Scoot McNairy is Ben Grimm and Kerry BIshé is the Invisible Woman.


Kerry Bishe

I looked it up, and it seems that the producers and writer of HACF knew that their fourth season would be their last, before they started it. Because of that, the creators had an entire ten episodes to build to a proper conclusion for the series. That gift of time and consideration really shows.

If you working in the technology sector, or if you’re a fan of Mad Men or Silicon Valley, I’d say you should give Halt and Catch Fire a try!

Series Condition: Black Hammer

For casual readers of comics, a series like an ‘analog’ Black Hammer can be great. It’s a standalone story (no other back issues to track down, no Wikipedia pages to research) that features ‘analogs’ to well-known archetypal characters.

I love a good ‘analog’ comic story, by that, I mean a fresh story that takes on the expected archetypal superheroes, slaps new names and costumes on them, and deconstructs them in new ways. Kurt Busiek’s Astro City is a great example of a long-running city that any casual reader can pick up and totally get. Each issue of Astro City showcases a new hero or villain, like Samaritan, the Confessor, and Winged Victory, who are instantly recognizable as analogs of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, respectively. Watchmen, Squadron Supreme, and Irredeemable are two other great examples of superhero analog series where you don’t have to wade into decade’s worth continuity in order to enjoy the story. (Although, to be honest, it does help.)

Black Hammer
Writer: Jeff Lemire
Artist: Dean Ormston
Colorist: Dave Stewart
Publisher: Dark Horse
14 issues (the series entered hiatus, but is supposed to return in 2018)

Black Hammer is the latest analog universe that I’ve dived into. It was a memorable experience, although I have to say I wasn’t completely blown away. The story follows a collection of superheroes who find themselves trapped in some sort of pocket universe that resembles a tiny farming town. How did they get there? What is the force that kills them if they try to leave? Unfortunately, none of these questions are answered before the series went on indefinite hiatus in 2017.

The best thing about the 13-issue series (so far?) are its character concepts. I’ll list a few of my favorites.

  • Abraham Slam is an obvious Captain America analog, but he doesn’t have a super-soldier serum or the benefit of being frozen in ice to help him fight off ravages of time. As the Black Hammer story begins, he’s already the oldest character and quite a bit over the hill.
  • Golden Gail is sort of Shazam character in reverse. Shazam was an ordinary boy who turns into an adult superhero when he says a magic word. Gail is a normally aging woman who has become stuck in her eternally prepubescent, super-powered form.
  • Talkie Walkie is a robot sidekick character with an awesome name and an even more awesome character design.
  • Madame Dragonfly is the mystical, unpredictable superhero (think Scarlet Witch or the X-Men’s Magik) who also acts like a host character from the 1950s EC Comics. (Think the Crypt Keeper.)
  • Black Hammer is a character who seemingly died trying to escape the pocket universe. At first he seems like a 70s-blaxploitation hybrid of Superman and John Henry, which cool enough. But later we learn that his origin veers toward Thor and Jack Kirby’s New Gods.

The characters have a lot of potential, and the series has already spawned an excellently named spin-off, Sherlock Frankenstein. I was disappointed, however, that we didn’t get any kind of resolution for the main characters. In issue one, we find out that the heroes have been trapped in this bucolic setting for ten years. And yet it takes a newly introduced character to start showing them clues that might help them out of their predicament. If these are Earth’s greatest heroes, then why have they given up so easily on finding a way out? Also, Gail’s best friend is a gay team-member who doesn’t seem particularly closeted. And yet after ten years of living in close quarters, Gail is shocked to find out he’s gay? There are some plot points and character interactions that seem paper-thin. Maybe some of these troublesome issues could have been resolved if the characters had been trapped in the pocket dimension for one year instead of ten. Also, some of these issues seem to be exacerbated as the last three issues of the series seem to slow down and drag, plot wise.

Dean Ormston’s rough-hewn art is charming and expressive, but there are some panels where his backgrounds and his faces seem a too flimsy for Black Hammer’s more horrific or cosmically-scaled scenes. For instance, when one character enters a Lovecraftian dimension of “unspeakable angles,” where a mortal man could go insane. The background of that scene simply shows sketchy alien eyeballs floating in space.

With all that said, I truly did enjoy the series. It’s brimming full of cool characters. And some fun experiments in comics deconstruction. In one flashback, we see a Golden Gail adventure told through that overwrought tone of 60s comics. I already mention how Madame Dragonfly re-creates an EC Comics feel. Another story shows Abraham Slam take on an ‘Extreme’ 90s-era makeover. It’s moments like these—and some fantastic David Rubin fill-in issues—that I’ll remember most about the series. Here’s hoping one day we’ll get some answers about everything else.

State of my writing: Oct 2017

It’s been five months since I started Book 1 of my new fantasy series, and I’m currently making my way through a nearly-final edits. But at the same time, I’m working through the first draft of Book 2!

Way back in 2014 I posted about my method for ‘gap-writing’ a first draft. But with these two books, I’ve been experimenting with dictating the draft into my phone. I’ve been hearing more and more about the pros and cons of dictating technology. I don’t really do anything special with. I just turn on my ‘Notes’ app and click the mic button. There’s LOTS of correcting afterward, but I think it’s worth it to be able to freely record my ideas and lines while I’m feeling creative.


I’ve been enjoying so much, that during a recent weekend trip to Jekyll Island, I spent a good deal of time roaming the beach and dictating passages into my phone. I’m sure any other beach-goers thought I was a little silly. Or a workaholic using his phone  to take care of business on the beach. And they were probably right.

Jekyll suffered some damage from Hurricane Irma this September. It barreled through and scraped some of the sand from the beach, took out at least one boardwalk, and excavated another old one. (See the pic below.) The weather was a bit overcast, so overall, it made for a bit of a post-apocalyptic feel (if you happened to be in a particularly imaginative frame of mind). Which leads me to one other ‘pro’ to dictating: It unshackles you from writing in your office or your living room. Getting into a wide open space and doing some storytelling in a natural setting was really fun, and it really got my creative juices flowing!




September TV

September was a busy month for TV, with several shows vying for time to distract me from writing.First and foremost, there’s a new season of ‘Rick and Morty’ on Adult Swim. This might be might favorite show, period. It’s a cartoon, a family comedy, and a sci-fi adventure with enough mind-blowing ideas to make Doctor Who jealous. This season has featured some more introspective themes. What makes Rick tick? How is his megalomania affecting his family? Most of the episodes are self-contained, so you can jump aboard with just about any episode you want and get a complete, understandable story.

Earlier this month, Big Brother ended it’s polarizing, predictable 19th season with a polarizing, un-predictable finale. Personally, I was ‘Team Paul.’ Sure, he was maybe a little more manipulative than he needed to be (although this is Big Brother we’re talking about), but how can you not give props to a guy who, through separate plots, convinced every player to purposely lose a racing competition, so that a woman with a broken foot could end up winning it?

After Big Brother ended, Ozark (on Netflix) entered my life with a blistering first episode. Yikes! It’s fascinating to see Jason Bateman’s character be the financial planner/money launderer using his nerdy bookkeeping skills to hold off hitmen and thugs and drug dealers, episode after episode. The writers of Ozark definitely seem to be asking, ‘How can we add another problem to make this show even more dramatic?’ I was a little over halfway through the season when all the problems piled up had started to make me feel too stressed. So I’m taking a break from the show right now.

Also binged the first season of the Good Place. A very witty show. In between, I watched as many episodes of 30 Rock as I could. (It left Netflix on Septmber 30th). I enjoyed the first ep of American Horror Story: Cult, so I will probably watch more of that. Although a lot of times I don’t end up making it all the way through the AHS seasons.

How about you? What shows are you watching or looking forward to watching now that the summer TV season has ended and the fall season is starting up?