Saturday, June 16, 2007

Zombie Fun: John Wright, John Scalzi

I was so busy this week, that I didn't keep up with my blog feeds. How was I to know that I was missing the Great Zombiedemic? Here's a belated bit of the zombieliciousness, and don't miss the zombie photos:

Zombie John C. Wright, who is unliving proof that there aren't enough orthodontists in ZombieLand. A sampling:

SFS: Are you particular about the brains you eat and how you eat them?

ZJCW: Indeed. The main obstacle to zombification is a person's sense of self-identity, or ego. In order to pave the way for the coming zombie rule, it is necessary to destroy those science fiction authors whose egos are even more enormous than my own. So far, I have only found one, the venerable Harlan Ellison: his brain is large enough to provide grisly feasting for many days. Fortunately he is shorter and thinner than I am, so all I need do to crush him is to fall on him with my belly.

SFS: Which film do you feel best represents the zombie population?

ZJCW: Brain from the Planet Arous. While you lunchmeats (as we affectionately refer to the still-living) might think this is a horror show, we regard it as a cooking program. Those giant space brains look ever so much more tasty than the slim pickings we get here.

Zombie John Scalzi--oops, I mean Undead American John Scalzi--
SFS: Do you have any thoughts on how being a zombie will affect your future writing? Any hints you can give us on upcoming novels?

ZJS: Well, it's harder to type with rotting fingers, for one thing. I tried some voice recognition software, but for some reason everything comes out as "wwwwuuuuuuagggghnnnngghh." So my productivity is probably going to slip.

When I became an Undead-American, Patrick Nielsen Hayden, my editor, made the obvious joke that my next book should be called "Dead Man's War." I had to eat his brain for that one. Also, clearly, I'm going to have to start writing about the prejudices the pre-dead have against us. Yes, we're rotting. Yes, we'll eat your brains. Yes, we slur our words. That doesn't mean we don't want your love. And your pancreas. and I suspect I'll make that a theme of future novels. Especially about the pancreas. Mmmm... sweetmeats.

Did anyone save me some brain and swiss on toast?


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