MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND
How in the world do people write with rock n’ roll
blasting in the background? I think to be able to multitask like that
automatically qualifies you as a genius. I know Stephen King does it. He said
that while he writes he listens to, “…Metallica,
Anthrax. I still listen to those guys ... There's a band called the Living
Things that I like a lot. Very loud group. I never cared for Ozzy very much
(The Atlantic, April 12, 2011).”
I don’t write with music on. I’m too
easily distracted. I wrote my latest book, State of Infection, in my basement, mostly in the
silence of the house after the rest of the family went to bed. If I could type
in a sensory deprivation floatation tank, I would, except I can’t find one for
sale on Amazon or Brookstone. Music is for the backyard, the swimming pool and
the car (at least when I’m not listening to audiobooks). It all keeps me a
little sharper than I otherwise would be.
The three places I can find total peace
and quiet to write are the following: my comfy chair in the basement of my home,
In my office during a lunch break (I close my door and ask the secretaries not
to disturb me for an hour unless it’s an emergency) and finally in my on-call
room, late at night in the hospital (usually with a patient in early labor). It
is these rare quiet moments that I write.
That’s why I need to be ready to write
when the free time comes. I don’t have time for writer’s block. Whenever an
idea hits me during the day, I just write it down for later on. Sometimes I write
it on a scrap of paper, the back of a CVS receipt or I simply email myself the
idea. When I can, I gather up these ideas and write them in a notebook. When I
get the time, a quick review of my notes is all I need to get trucking. That’s
how I wrote State of Infection. I
hope you get a chance to read it and I hope you like it.
State Of Infection
Michael J. Frey
Genre: Science Fiction/ Horror
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Date of Publication: March 6, 2014
ISBN: 9781612963211
ASIN: B00J4WWY3Q
Number of pages:266
Word Count: 84K
Cover Artist: Tommy Dalston
Book Description:
Just months before the Battle of Central Park and the onset of the Second Civil War, President Obama declares martial law in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut as Montoya’s encephalopathy spreads.
Despite the military’s best efforts, the government falls and Manhattan is reborn as a city-state under a military dictatorship. Survivors Mike Calaf, and Avalon Calendar struggle to survive, caught between the zombies and the new ruler of New York.
But long before the zombie infection, during the First Civil War, Doctor William Jackson (of the Confederate States of America) is trying to unravel the mystery behind this strange new sickness. He knows that if Complex P fails to work, there could be devastating consequences which might influence the future of mankind.
Book Trailer:
Purchase it at Amazon BN
Excerpt:
1- DOCTOR MIKE
CALAF
It’s been nearly
a year since the outbreak. Most people call it the ZA infection, though it’s
not really an infection. The proper medical term is Montoya’s encephalopathy
(named after Claude Montoya, the French researcher who spearheaded the early
studies).
I was in my
office seeing patients when it began. Back then I had a medical practice on the
Upper East Side of Manhattan, about a block away from my one bedroom apartment.
I could get from my office to my home before you could say Jack Robinson. It
was convenient as heck (and in the end, probably saved my life).
In those days my
biggest concern was keeping the practice growing. Medicine is, among many
things, a business, and like most businesses, mine had overhead. Lots of overhead.
In my case overhead meant two receptionists and two nurses. I also had the
malpractice insurance to cover, which seemed to go up almost every year. Next
came the office supplies (both secretarial and medical). Then throw in the
computers, maintenance, and a small reserve for holiday parties. Private
practice in New York City was a costly beast to say the least.
Fortunately, I
did pretty well and was able to celebrate my black Friday earlier and earlier
each year. I wish I could attribute my good fortune to my skills as a doctor,
but as Avalon might say, that dog won’t hunt. There were plenty of good docs in
New York City before the ZA infection, so I had to find a way to stand out. The
real secret to my success was keeping the waiting down to a bare minimum. I
prided myself on it. Everyone hates waiting for the doctor, I get that, I hate
it too. And no group of people does hurried and rushed like Manhattanites. So
if Mrs. Kessler had an appointment at noon, she was seen by noon, or sooner.
That, and a pair of the friendliest secretaries known to mankind, is what kept
my people coming back.
Of course, it
didn’t always work out that way. All it took was one complicated condition to
throw off the schedule. For example, during what I thought was a routine
physical exam, I felt an enlarged liver in a fifteen-year-old boy. That’s how a
visit booked for twenty minutes became forty-five minutes. After explaining the
findings to a terrified patient and his mother, I then had to order liver
function tests, screening tests for hepatitis and a CT scan of the abdomen. It
takes time, but it has to get done. You do what you can while keeping the
bottom line in mind. And, if Mrs. Kessler wants to tell you about her son’s
academic success at Brandeis University, or Mr. Barkman wants to show you pics
of his new Shetland Sheepdog? Well, you smile and look at the pics, or at least
that’s what I did. Good word of mouth followed, and my practice grew;
satisfying both my needs as a physician, and as a businessman.
I wish I could
say my office was filled with marble and gold leaf, and that I had one of those
big fancy wooden desks. It wasn’t like that. But it wasn’t one of those tired,
worn out old offices with dirty carpets and framed posters of Matisse and Van
Gogh everywhere you turned. It was pretty standard I guess.
On my desk, I
had two photographs. One was a recent pic of Kimberly and me in the North Fork
of Long Island (the wine country). The other was of my sister and my parents,
which was taken at a wedding, or bar mitzvah, or something; everyone dressed up
and smiling in the type of picture that seemed dated the second it went into
the frame; the type of picture destined for a desktop. Overall, I’d say it was
a nice setup. Then the ZA infection came and everything changed. And if a
little zombie apocalypse wasn’t bad enough, the Southern Federation showed up
next to conduct what they called the Second Civil War. Talk about bad
karma.
Manhattan is now
what one might call a city-state, a tiny little country onto itself. And who
gets to be king of New York? A man named Castor Dean does. Castor Dean is the
class president...of a pretty big class. Not that he was elected by his
classmates (or anyone else for that matter). His authority was given to him by
what remained of the military after the government collapsed. His official
political title is the Gallum Major; which means king or ruler. Personally, I
would have chosen “El Hefe” if I ruled New York, but they never offered me the
position. This is not to say that Castor Dean is a bad leader, it’s just that
the vox populi never meant much to him. Most survivors welcomed Castor and his
absolute rule. After all, because of him, the city still has electricity and
clean water. That fact alone makes Castor worth his weight in gold.
Castor changed
things up when he came into power. For starters, he renamed the city.
Manhattan, he felt, had been erased by the ZA infection. The survivors of the
zombie apocalypse needed a fresh start, a new beginning. So Manhattan was
reborn as Gallum City, and Roosevelt Island (a small island adjacent to
Manhattan) became its capital. Because of Roosevelt's small size, Castor’s army
was able to clear out the zaps in a matter of days. This zombie-free sanctuary
(just a few minutes boat ride from Manhattan) was the ideal location for the
new ruling class. Roosevelt Island was divided into three sections. The
southern section became a military town named New Sparta (where most the
soldiers were barracked). The middle of the island was for government leaders
and their families. The northern section was given to the surviving civilian
population, the natives, who lived on Roosevelt before the infection. They were
allowed to stay, provided they agreed to relocation.
About the Author:
Michael Frey is a physician and assistant professor in New York City. He lives in Westchester, New York with his wife Jessica, two children and two dogs.
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1 comment:
Nice excpert
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