I remember getting "Nobody Special: The Death Of Johnny Salinger" in the mail and began reading it. I was so tired and needed sleep bad but could not put the book down, until I finished reading it all. I was happy to get to know Jack on Twitter and was thrilled when he agreed to an interview... So here is my interview with Jack Deadmen.

Thanks so much for the Interview, Jack. Can you give the readers a bit of background on yourself?

I'm a writer living in the sticks outside of Pittsburgh, though my heart belongs to Los Angeles. Like most writers, I've had a lot of day-jobs; they've ranged from being a movie star homes tour guide, to being a drug and alcohol counselor. I have a degree in Psychology. I'm 44, and sixteen of those years have been spent being married to a wonderful wife. I have two amazing daughters whom I'm very proud of. And I have two dogs (Sally and Sparky) who, collectively, I'm pretty sure are privy to what the secret to life is, two guinea pigs (Herman and Eddie ... yes, as in Munster), and a Great Horned Owl named Mr. Torrance... well, I own the pine tree that he lives in, which makes me more like his landlord; so, I guess we can add Owl Landlord to my resume. My prized "possession" is the HST tattoo I had inked into my wrist after Hunter S. Thompson scrawled it on there during a book signing a few months before he left us. I'm a new vegetarian, despite the fact that it's against the law here in PA. New Orleans is my second favorite city, and I've never been to New York.... And, you now officially know more personal trivia about me than most of my friends. Oh, and I wrote the book you're interviewing me about.

Are you still a counselor? It seems like a conflict of interest for the characters you've created.

You're right! Shit, they would hate me, wouldn't they? Between what I used to do and what I write, that's just classic pathology, isn't it? No, I got out of the field after my daughter had a terrible accident that turned our lives upside down, and I felt it was best to get into a lower-stress job and spend more time with her. Dealing with heroin addicts all day at work and having a piece of your mind on constant alert because you're on call around the clock takes a lot out of you. I loved working with them, but my family means more to me, simple as that. So, a switch of career, being Mr. Mom, and completing the next book is what it's all about right now.

You grew up in southern California. Tell us about your early days?

I was born in Thousand Oaks, in 1969, back when the population was under 35,000 and it was far from being considered anything above lower-middle class; back then it was just a place where we had an annual chili cook-off and a carnival. The '70s was a good era to grow up in; it was that last decade where you openly entertained the delusion that the world was reasonably safe. We were still trick-or-treating without supervision, and at six years old I'd walk to the theater by myself and hit the double-features. Back then, Night Gallery was in syndication, Sanford and Son and The Wonderful World of Disney, along with the first season of SNL were on our first color television. I grew up in a broken home, and with me and my brothers jumping back and forth between parents, I felt like I was always saying goodbye to someone, which creates an awkward foundation for a childhood. There was always a feeling of displacement and anxiety. I suppose that was an early seed to Nobody Special ... that "terminal sadness" that Johnny Salinger suffers from, it always seemed to be just under the surface of everything else. Despite that, though, and a lot of unnecessary traumas that happened along the way, California itself was still an awesome place to grow up. In this little section of our neighborhood we had this gang of kids, very Little Rascals-like, and we all wanted to be stuntmen when we grew up. Back then we still had fiberglass skateboards with these clay wheels that rattled so hard it felt like you were shaking the fillings out of your teeth. We'd sneak off into a nearby gully for adventures, and sometimes we'd make up skits and pass out hand-drawn flyers around the block, then perform in someone's backyard. I'm sure we looked ridiculous, but in our minds we were a West Coast version of Saturday Night Live mixed with a bit of Masterpiece Theatre and Monty Python. When we were teenagers we'd hit some kind of amusement park as often as we could scrounge up the money for it: Disneyland, Universal, Knott's Berry Farm, they were all huge influences on me growing up, and elements of those places still show up in my writing. The beach hadn't eroded away yet, all that glowed in the water was simply phosphorous, and the only thing we worried about while floating around on garage-sale surfboards was being chomped on by Jaws. Most of my young adulthood was spent in Hollywood and other parts of Los Angeles while I was trying to make a name for myself.

Were you involved in the punk scene when you were growing up?

I was. But, I didn't know I was getting into it during Punk's pre-mid-life crisis. I suppose I was actually indoctrinated through Nardcore, because we were so close to Oxnard. It was at that strange point where Punk was splintering into all these different subgenres like hardcore, grindcore ... it was the death of the second wave ... or was it post-punk? I'm still confused [laughs] ... but, to me, Punk was Punk, and I still feel that way. Back then, knowledge of bands usually came in the form of a hand-me-down cassette tape, usually a homegrown compilation, so you'd end up knowing a shit load of Dead Kennedys and Sex Pistols songs before you even knew which band had done which track--usually there was just a made-up title painted on it with nail polish or white-out. I still don't know the titles to some of the songs I love, though at least now I know which band is which. But, yeah, there was an information gap between us and the rest of the punk world. For a brief moment, I thought Oxnard had the biggest punk scene, because that's where all the shows and parties were that friends would take me to. When we got a bit older and could venture out, it was off to Anisq'Oyo' Park in Isla Vista, the Hollywood Palladium, and clubs like Madame Wongs, Scream, and of course Fenders Ballroom in Long Beach--I still think about Fenders. And the Palladium, holy crap, it was like the whole world opened up right in front of me the first time I saw a gig there, and I instantly dropped the belief that Oxnard was at the center of the punk-universe. It was a Ramones show--the front doors were broken through after a cop started some shit with a drunk who was walking through traffic threatening cars with a pimp cane--total chaos. During the show, beer bottles and firecrackers were getting thrown into the crowd; a couple M80s went off, one of them right under my boot. Funny thing is, I think that describes about half the Ramones shows I've been to since. But, yeah, I was pretty naive. It was a lucky day if you stumbled across a copy of Flipside with the pictures still intact. It's not like now where if someone says, "Hey, you should check out this band called (fill in the blank)," and then you look it up on your phone and get enlightened within seconds. Back then, someone would tell you about a band and it might be a year before you happened upon their music, or maybe never. They didn't sell Docs next to the Buster Browns yet. The paint seemed like it was still drying on the walls at Posers and Retail Slut on Melrose, which is where you'd get the gear you couldn't find at the Army surplus. Haircuts happened in someone's bathroom, and if you wanted to die your hair you used Miss Clairol--we never heard of Manic Panic--hair products were basically Aqua-Net and shaving cream. The culture wasn't socially acceptable yet, in fact, society wasn't too fond of us when we'd walk around with combat boots, torn up jeans, and leather jackets that were all painted up with band names, and they had no problem telling us they didn't approve of it. Back then, Mohawks in Thousand Oaks were few and far between. I think mine was one out of four at that time. When I'd go to Six Flags or Knott's I'd get frisked, and I laugh now because I ended up working at both of those places. Being ostracized was part of the territory. But I had a double whammy with being socially shunned, because I was into the Christian punk scene as well, which a lot of punks thought was lame. So, even some of those who I thought were "my people" would give me shit. Once that started, I began to notice other divisions within the scene. I'd entered this movement that believed we were going to be the last generation--we all accepted we were on a sinking ship, and I thought we'd at least go down united, but it soon felt like the movement itself was splitting at the seams. It was very disheartening. But, yeah, that's how young I was when I was getting into it, so young that I didn't know that counter-cultures had sub-cultures that had sub-genres within themselves. I was lost as hell.

Who were some of your favorite bands then?

The cassettes I had on constant rotation were Social Distortion, Minor Threat, Saccharine Trust, Circle Jerks, TSOL, 7 Seconds, the Ramones, Oingo Boingo, Midnight Oil, The Vandals, The Cure, The Doors, Undercover, Altar Boys, and the Stray Cats ... and Elvis Presley. Sort of a well-rounded mix, actually. Most of those bands I just mentioned still get played, though my taste has expanded to add new ones. I'll listen to just about anything, from Dead Kennedys to the Dresden Dolls, Saccharine Trust to 30 Seconds to Mars and Rob Zombie. I'd say Social Distortion still gets played the most out of the "older" stuff.

Are you musical and have you ever played in a band?

I used to sing pretty good, and I still play the guitar pretty badly. Four chords and a few distortion pedals worked well enough for me to head several bands in the late '80s through the early '90s. My favorite was Mortalis, which I started with James Ribiat who played drums for Habeas Corpus and Cinema Strange. For a while I was in a few bands in the Christian music arena: Final Cry, Ledge, and Simple Faith. The latter started to take off--sort of a weird melding of the Chili Peppers meets the Doors and Undercover and Social D. Later, the name got heisted by another band--but that experience ended early for me when several band-mates kept getting pulled aside after shows by people who whispered concerns that I sounded and acted too much like Jim Morrison, which couldn't possibly be a Christian quality. Okay, maybe lighting incense in churches without permission and doing a medicine-man dance around my mic stand may have had something to do with getting fired. These days, it's just recording solo stuff onto a 4-track. At some point I'll finish the other half of a poetry/song album that I started a while ago called Into the Land of Wigs and Novelties ... once I figure out how to click the mouse on my Mac.

Are you still into the Christian music scene?

It probably kept me from doing a lot worse when I was a teenager; a few of those bands became my moral compass. But, no, to the dismay of many friends and family; they hate to think that I might be an Atheist, and my wife likes to joke that I'm a Buddhist, but I see myself as just a Humanist trying to be a better person, for no other reason than that. I've never felt more in love with life and the world around me as a result. I think the practice of loving others as they are and appreciating how special life is, is the answer to most of what ails us, though I know I'll get a shit storm of judgment for saying that. After my daughter's accident, many of my old Christian friends expected some sort of re-conversion. I've been shocked by some of the ignorant responses I've gotten; some have been downright hateful and cruel.

After hearing your answer. I believe I am also a Humanist. But, what if there is a God?

Then I'm totally fucked [laughs]. But, I think hedging your bets, "just in case," as I've seen many people do, is worse than being honest and saying you don't believe anymore. Hopefully some record of altruism will be enough to tip the scales for admission. I'm content with just making this life the best one I can. I'm not going to waste time dreading and damning the present while hoping things get better when it's all over; it really bothers me when people do that--I think it's a slap in the face to Life. I'd rather just do my best to make it all mean something now.

That seems to be one of the themes in the book, too.

It's a big part of it, yeah. There really is a last time for everything we do, so I think we should treat the next time we do anything as though it's the last time--learn to be truly present, to be an active part of the here and now. "Spend more time on the Ferris Wheel," as Johnny from the book would say. We all have this ticking clock inside of us, you know? Another theme is the danger of not letting go of the past ... all those things that keep us stuck between the ticks and the tocks, it keeps us from growing and moving forward while the clock keeps rolling on despite us pretending not to hear it. Carpe diem, right? The book has allowed me to work on some of that myself.

At what age did you decide to become a writer?

At about six I started writing little stories ... "spook stories" as my grandfather called them; mostly haunted house stuff. Movies were a huge influence on my writing, which is why I became a screenwriter. Films were a major source of escape for me. I've always had difficulties with social anxiety, but when a movie would start rolling, all that anxiety would totally disappear. It seemed completely normal to watch Meatballs or Grease over and over at the theater. I'd say I was about ten or eleven when I started to work harder at writing. The Jerk came out and I wanted a sequel, fantasizing I could get Steve Martin to let me play his son, so I wrote The Idiot: Son of a Jerk. I think I was in fifth grade. The "script" was confiscated by my girlfriend's dad and I never saw it again. I suppose my writing was controversial even back then. Or offensive? Same thing.

Who were some of your inspirations when you were younger?

Growing up I didn't really have a lot of adult support. As a result, many of the people I gravitated toward and looked up to were entertainers, people who were always available just by listening to a record or watching a movie. Bill Murray, Burt Reynolds, Steve Martin, Jack Nicholson, Tony Curtis, and Charles Chaplin were some of my idols. That was my team, man. If I didn't know how to deal with a situation, I would just pretend I was Burt Reynolds in Hooper and let him take care of things. [There's a pause, and Jack realizes he may have divulged too much.] Of course, this results in you acting like you're Burt Reynolds in Hooper [he laughs at himself]. My friends and I listened to a lot of comedy records growing up, everything from Steve Martin and Bill Cosby to Jonathan Winters; later on, of course, was Cheech and Chong, and Robin Williams. Musically, it was in my early-teens when I turned to those bands I mentioned before. With literature it was, and still is, Jack Kerouac, J.D. Salinger, Stephen King, and Hunter S. Thompson. When I've been asked about the supernatural element that seems to find its way into a lot of my writing, I blame it on reading The Shining when I was eleven. I think the first books that made a real impact on me were One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Outsiders. "Stay Gold, Ponyboy!" There were a lot of good lessons in those books, like how important it is to remember that abandoned churches are flammable, always make friends with the biggest guy in the room, and never piss off a nurse who refuses to smile; very helpful.

Glad that you mentioned S.E. Hinton as an inspiration. Her real name is Susan Eloise Hinton. It was suggested by her publishers that she use her initials and be ambiguous about her sexuality.. Your novel, "Nobody Special: The Death of Johnny Salinger," was a fascinating read. Tell us about Johnny Salinger?

It was an honor to find out you'd read it! Johnny Salinger is a poet, musician, and spoken word artist who's suffering from a spiraling mental collapse while trying to come to terms with a past that won't stop haunting him. To complicate matters, he's burnt out on this crash and burn lifestyle he's indulged himself in for too long, to the point where he rarely leaves his room, even while these massive Venice Beach punk gigs and parties are going on right inside his own home. In fact, even though he's the reason people started showing up, he feels like it doesn't matter anymore that he's really there, so he sets his suicide into motion during a New Years Eve party. Through his diary, the book chronicles the hours leading toward midnight. Jim Cherry of the Doors Examiner referred to Johnny as an "amalgam" of the poets, writers, and singers he's admired throughout his life, which is a good way to describe him. He really sees himself as the Last Bastard Son of the Beats, but he's adopted the punk culture as his own, and they turn him into an icon that he wasn't prepared to become. Never having formed his own identity, he becomes this collage of personal heroes, which turns out to be part of what unravels him. There is a lot of me in Johnny, but part of him was inspired by thinking what Jack Kerouac might have been like if he'd woken up as a young punk during the peak of his success with On the Road. What makes things even worse for Johnny is that he has this lamenting love affair with this failing impression of the American Dream, which has been crumbling beneath him for several years. He's come to believe that everything bad that's happened to him is the result of some accidental ripple in Fate that he can't out-run, when really it's just life happening, and all of this is going on during this very exhausting existential crisis. I don't want to give too much away, but conflicting belief systems and the heartbreak from losing too many people in his life, many whose deaths he feels responsible for, is exacerbated by mental health issues, which actually becomes the major antagonist in the story. So, this book finds Johnny on what may be his last night on earth. Mentally and existentially, he's a total wreck. He's lived through all these terrible things that have imploded his faith in life ever getting better, so he decides to let "Fate" take over and sets this simple condition into play as the deciding factor on whether or not he's going to survive the night--all that he requires to happen in order to stop him from killing himself is for someone at the party to come looking for him, anyone, even an accidental knock on his bedroom door will do.... Figuratively, it's a ticking bomb type of story where a person is held hostage by his own mind, which is fracturing more and more throughout the story until it seems beyond escaping.

How long did it take you to write "Nobody Special: The Death of Johnny Salinger?"

Too long! It actually went through a slew of different incarnations before becoming a novel. I had completed my first book back in 1988, one that thankfully never saw the light of day, but it spawned these characters who hung out in this uncomfortable limbo until about 1993 when I got this harebrained idea to write an improv script called Nobody Special. I tried to get actors attached who I had no business calling. The blueprint for the story was there along with where a scene needed to start and end, but the gap between point A and point B would be filled by the improv talents of the actors ... sort of like a punk rock drama version of Curb Your Enthusiasm--but, as soon as the words "It's an improv film about a suicidal punk poet icon" left my mouth, the conversation would be over. I finally caught onto that, and in the late '90s I turned it into a traditional script. I tried to get it out to people, everyone from Johnny Depp to Fairuza Balk, but I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. During this time, I also wrote a second Nobody Special script, a prequel called You're Everything. By then, my last agent had long gotten sick of advising me to focus on my more commercial screenplays, a couple of which had been optioned. I left for PA for a couple of years and wrote several other scripts on spec, and was a contributing writer for a couple of online magazines. When I came back to L.A., I wanted to hit the ground running and make a film, independently. I looked at everything I'd written to that point and decided that if I re-wrote the original Nobody Special script with a lower budget in mind, it could work. I co-founded Dystopian Pictures with Michael Tappan and Kevin Bicknell, and Nobody Special went into pre-production. We had a lot of support and interest from some great people, like Bill Moseley (House of a Thousand Corpses), Jack Brewer of Saccharine Trust, and Monkey from The Adicts, and for a while we were talking about trying to get Paul Reubens involved, and we planned to cast as many characters as we could with known cult film actors. But, our investors dicked us around and we kept having to change start dates because they kept delaying the money, even though we were trying to secure locations and had a dedicated crew. It was very embarrassing. We kept getting fluctuating promises. One week we'd think we were going to make a union film, and then the next week it wasn't and the cast list would have to change. A lot of hard knocks and broken hearts later, it became obvious we were being swindled. We tried other ways of funding it, but it eventually ended up in a box again and I finally accepted that it was time to drive a nail into Nobody Special's coffin. But, it wouldn't stay dead. 2007 rolls around, and I was still haunted by this fucking story that was like a ghost who just wouldn't leave me alone, so I started to work on it as a novel, off and on, and decided to add the second screenplay into it. But every time I tried to work on the opening scene, I'd end up with that glorious writer's stare. It wasn't writer's block, in fact it was completely the opposite of that. In the script, the opening scene is three pages long. It takes place when Johnny's about to kill himself, and then it's followed by the rest of the story about what had gotten him to that point. But, once I put it in Johnny's hands, he just kept poking at me to write more, explain more, make it more intense and real ... make it count.... Creative people will know exactly what I mean. So, I kept getting hung up on that scene, because I was caught up on it being a simple introduction, even though it kept feeling like it was supposed to be bigger. I'd skip it and come back to it again and again. Eventually, I just decided to make it its own story, thinking it would make a nice novella companion piece to the novel I was originally intending, which was solely based on the two screenplays. It turned out being a stand-alone novel, but it also became an introduction and conclusion to the next book. Getting stuck on those first three pages was the best thing that ever happened to my writing career.

Do you think you'll try to make it into a movie now that it's getting a following?

I haven't ruled it out.

What sort of preparation gets you in a writing mode?

Often it's just spontaneous. A restaurant or two may have had a napkin go missing, but I tend to be a better than average tipper and I've learned to keep something to write on at all times. The strangest thing I've ever resorted to turning into a note was a hubcap, but unfortunately the car's owner drove off before I could memorize what I'd written on it. [Jack laughs, and though I'm very sure he's joking, I want to believe it's true.] But you're talking about sitting down and writing. I find I'm starting to get too old for this, but I usually start writing after everyone else is in bed and there's less chance for interruption, and then I write until about 3 in the morning. I like a dark ambience, tea-lights glowing inside a few Moroccan lanterns for mood works for me. I usually have a soundtrack that's tailored to go with each scene; so whatever scene I'm working on that night, I listen to its soundtrack as much as I can, even in the car. When I was in L.A., I mostly wrote at this gazebo in the courtyard of my apartment building, or at this coffee shop called the Bourgeois Pig--I'd take over the back room and chain-smoke for hours. Loved it. I do have a couple of neurotic must-haves, but I'm keeping them a secret for now. One if them is that I won't start writing before 11:34 pm ... which is something that started while working on The Death of Johnny Salinger. It's a significant time in both novels, 11:34. We'll see if the neurosis sticks with me after the second book is released.

Are you happy with the reviews that you have been getting for the book?

Humbly blown away. At the most doubting stages of the writing process, I had a feeling I was writing something that was either really good or a complete bucket of shit, because it was so intense. Luckily, it was the former. People seem to have a visceral reaction to it. You really go deep into Johnny's head, so much so that I was very careful to make it crystal clear that he knows he's making all the wrong choices and that suicide isn't ever an answer. My favorite part of reading the reviews is seeing how others interpret the story, what it means to them, and especially how they suspect it actually ends despite the blatant spoiler that comes with the title of the book. So far, everyone seems to have a different response to it, which is really very cool, because it seems like the novel is more of an experience they're having rather than just reading another book. I think the novel is somewhat of a mirror for some people, too. I also think it can be seen as a very disturbing book for some, and it becomes so personal they have difficulty articulating their reaction to it. It's pretty heavy, and should probably come with a child safety-cap. People who have more life experience seem to dig it the most.

Who released "Nobody Special: The Death of Johnny Salinger?"

A Raven Desk Tome is my own thing. I never considered looking for a publisher. The book flies in the face of the marketable norm, and with the publishing world having an identity crisis and seemingly edging toward a similar predicament as the recording industry, I self-published on purpose. We'll see what happens with the prequel. I wouldn't turn down the right offer from the right publisher, but I'm not looking for one either.

Has it been difficult then, distributing the book in a DIY manner?

I just kept telling myself that thing that authors say, you know, that if only one person reads it and gets something out of it, then I'll be happy. After a while, you can trick yourself into believing that. But, I had two places I needed it to end up in order to validate my writing: Shakespeare and Company in Paris, and City Lights in Frisco. Shakespeare's was the first bookstore in the world to carry it, which was very surreal and exciting for me, and it happened simply because I asked them to take a look at it. Last I spoke with them, they were out of what they had. I dig the thought of having copies of Nobody Special leaving the bookstore, clasped in the hands of different Parisians as they go off into their lives ... to think of one copy ending up in a Parisian bed or bathtub, another one handed down and getting thumbed through at a cafe, or a copy getting thrown at someone's lover while they're screaming obscenities in French ... it's a thrilling thought; even if it ends up being somebody's paperweight, it's a Parisian paperweight. I'm apparently tormented by some form of literary romanticism. It ended up in the Summer Writing Program library at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics that Allen Ginsberg and Anne Waldman helped start at Naropa University; and an original editing page with hand-written notes is now part of the Los Angeles Punk Museum's archives, thanks to our dear Tequila Mockingbird, who I'd met on a movie set back in the '90s. I'm not sure about City Lights ... it might be time to pay them a visit. Hell, if I have to, I'll do a reverse stealing and sneak a book into the store and leave it there. Truly, the novel has gone beyond my expectations. I would love to sell a few hundred thousand copies, of course I would--I could dedicate more time to my family, writing, and enjoying all that life I missed out on in my twenties and thirties due to spending all of my free time writing on spec. The internet has certainly helped with getting it out there, but there's only so much you can do before you start feeling like a snake oil peddler who's rolled into the same town for the fiftieth time. It seems like word of mouth is how it's getting around best. I recently received a very nice and humbling email from a well-established author in Los Angeles who told me Nobody Special was recommended to him by a friend of his in England, and he loved it so much he asked me to write a blurb for the jacket of his own upcoming novel.

Did you have a shindig to celebrate the release of the book?

We celebrated when I completed the final draft. We had a bonfire in my backyard, and I created this great poetry reading space that seemed pleasantly enchanted, and everyone took turns in the chair to read a poem of their choosing. None of those present were writers or poets, and they all pretended to have a great time--it was awesome--my friends rock.

Did you do a tour of book signings and reading events?

Because of what was going on in life at the time, it was impossible for me to leave town and do a proper tour. I'm hoping life will allow me to do a tour with the next one, which should be out this summer if published through A Raven Desk Tome.

What details can you give us about the second Nobody Special novel?

Cursed is the Road to the American Dream. It's a prequel. In Nobody Special: The Death of Johnny Salinger, Johnny ends up choosing when his last tick of the clock will be ... the prequel is about the days, months, and years leading up to that. I really love the way it's turned out, but I suspect it's not what fans of the first book are probably expecting: it's not Johnny chained to his desk going crazy ... living life will drive him insane all on its own. I'd like to think of it as a long Tom Waits song that you won't want to end; that's the feel I'm putting into it. The story includes all of the characters Johnny talked about in the first book, but who you didn't really get to see in action, and there are some really great characters. It's tragic, for sure, but there's a lot of humor along the way, and some cool cameos as well. Chuck E. Weiss and I have been in contact about it; Jack Brewer and I have been talking about it for over a decade now ... maybe even a little bit of Ginger Coyote will get thrown into the pot to add some zing.

Should I divulge that you already sent me those pages?

Of course, you should.

I know the answer to this, it will be a zinger. But for our readers, will the prequel be in diary form, like The Death of Johnny Salinger?

It's an epistolary novel, yes. In that respect, it will have a similar feel to Nobody Special, but this time we actually get a good peek at the world through the eyes and minds of Kim and Rue, since it includes their own diary entries and letters. In fact, I think the Johnny to Kim narrative ratio is about 60/40. I actually have a great time writing as Kim ... which may become a grief issue for me if this is the last book in regards to Nobody Special.

Will it be the last one?

It depends on whether it's enough to appease those characters to the point where they'll finally shut up and leave me alone for a while. I also happen to know the answer to your question.

What books are you currently reading?

Contrary to every guide there is on writing, I've tried not to read anything else during the most creative portions of the writing process this time, especially since I'm writing in three different narratives; it's just too easy to lose the rhythm of someone's unique voice. I have a few things on hold for a couple more weeks while I finish editing. I had just started reading The Town and the City and Doctor Sax by Jack Kerouac when I was taking my last break, and I'm looking forward to getting back to them, as well as The Last Stage by Jim Cherry, about a singer who starts a Doors cover band, which I became aware of after Jim had done a review of Nobody Special.

Speaking of the Doors, I read on one of your Twitter posts that a diary of Jim Morrison's was recently released; one he'd been keeping right before he died, and there are apparently some eerie similarities to Nobody Special: The Death of Johnny Salinger?

I'm still tripped out over it. The diary you're talking about was recently auctioned off by Graham Nash. He acquired it from his manager, Bill Siddons, who also managed the Doors. Siddons brought the diary back from Paris sometime after Morrison's death. Photos of several pages from that diary were released during publicity for the auction, and every page I saw had some sort of parallel to Nobody Special; it's actually pretty damn intense, especially as there are several mentions of Morrison in my book, and the situation that Jim and Johnny found themselves in may be similar. I'm hearing that a lot of Morrison's journal seems to be incoherent ravings, but I have a strange feeling that my book might shine some light regarding the possible state of mind someone like Morrison might have been in while going through an existential crisis, knowing they've written and thought their way into a problem they can't write or think their way out of. So, I suggest that all Doors fans read Nobody Special, as well. I'll be interested to find out what else is in Morrison's diary once it goes public, but from the glimpses I've seen from those photos, it's enough to keep me creeped out about things like collective consciousness. It's sparked a couple interesting correspondences between me and Jim Cherry.

Do you have any all-time favorite books that you would care to share with us?

Big Sur and The Dharma Bums by Kerouac; Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, Kingdom of Fear, and The Rum Diary by HST, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Kesey, Ham on Rye by Bukowski, Something Wicked This Way Comes and A Graveyard for Lunatics by Bradbury.

Do you have any Internet Addresses you would like to share with Punk Globe readers?

Website for news and ordering signed copies is at www.JackDeadmen.com
Twitter handle is Twitter@jackdeadmen
My Facebook page is at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jack-Deadmen/581907601839368
Goodreads is http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6901652.Jack_Deadmen
Amazon page is http://www.amazon.com/Jack-Deadmen/e/B00BE6NHJK
E-Books are available for Kindle and Nook, and soon on iBook, though I'm a huge proponent for sticking with a print copy, which seems to fit the personality of this story better. And there's a book trailer at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uPE_Z8XfiY

What is on the horizon for the rest of 2014 for you?

Simply releasing and promoting the follow-up book, Cursed is the Road to the American Dream.

Is the American Dream cursed?

The road to it is--absolutely--it's cursed as fuck.

You currently reside in Pennsylvania. Tell us how you decided to move there?

I was at a Tommy's burger stand in Rampart, and I remember thinking, "God damn these chili-cheese fries are really fuckin' good." Non-Angelinos don't get this--but Angelinos who eat there reach an amazing endorphin nirvana. I ended up in a '72 Nova and ran out of my last dollar for gas somewhere around Pittsburgh.... Sorry, I had to sneak in a way to say how much I still miss my double cheese with chili, especially since it's off my menu now.... I've never told anyone this: When my second daughter was about two years old, we were at this park off of Lankershim Boulevard, and I was watching her play--she was stomping her feet and banging sticks on a drinking fountain like she was Slim Jim Phantom, and we were absolutely diggin' this perfect moment--and then we heard this gunshot in the distance. Suddenly, the fun was poisoned, and I thought, "I don't want to raise you here anymore." So, we started looking at PA where my wife's originally from, and we already had an established support system. It just made sense. Safety, family, finances, and the ability to have a bonfire in the backyard were deciding factors. The end of the story doesn't get more ironic, but it would put too weird of a spin on this interview. Let's just say, I can't wait to go home to SoCal someday.

You miss living in California then.

I do love Pittsburgh, but I miss California every single day. My oldest daughter went back out there and I have a grandson now and a granddaughter on the way, my parents are out there, and I still have a lot of great friends there, so I really do have a lot to miss. I miss the entertainment, too. In the last few years, Pittsburgh has had some great bands roll through--PIL, Adam Ant, Peter Murphy, and Morrissey to name a few--but it's nothing like Los Angeles where something big is always around the corner. I'm sure much has changed in the past eight years since I left, but L.A. will always be my first love. I miss the beach, the theaters, and being close to Disneyland and Knott's Scary Farm.... Having breakfast at the House of Pies in Los Feliz, and then dinner in Tijuana on the same day ... going off to Vegas at a moments notice ... oh, wait, that was before having a kid.

Is Jack Deadmen your real name?

Just as real as the one my mother gave me, only not as old.

Describe yourself in three words?

Um.... Hopeful. Affected. Grateful.

Any final words for Punk Globe readers?

Don't allow the fear of what others might say or think to keep you from achieving your dreams; I did that for much too long. And read my book! Next time you're in a bookstore, succumb to my triple-dog dare and ask them to carry it. You can contact me for signed copies. Reach out. Being an indie artist is extremely difficult and time-consuming, it can wear you down--every ounce of support is worth a pound of gold to the heart of an independent artist. Find me on Twitter and fill me in on what's up with you. Connecting with others as a result of writing this book has been an amazing experience for me. And, of course, support Punk Globe! Share their links, get a shirt, advertise, join them in their ventures--they're an American institution that will carry on only through continued support. The way they've accepted and embraced me has been life-changing, and it's been a part of my journey that I really appreciate and cherish. So, thank you for the love and support, Punk Globe. Hopefully, I'm giving some of that support back to you, Ginger, because I'm grateful beyond words. And that's that. Now, go rock the fuck out of something ... and happy reading.