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Matthew Jobin
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Author of the Nethergrim middle-grade fantasy series. Anthropologist and lecturer.
Author of the Nethergrim middle-grade fantasy series. Anthropologist and lecturer.

17 followers
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I christen thee X'shprrrb't!
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The Skeleth Launch Day
 

The day is here at last. The Skeleth, sequel to The Nethergrim, has been released upon the world. I hope to see some of you at the launch party at Kepler’s in Menlo Park tonight. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy the book.
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Pleased to announce the trailer for #theskeleth
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The Nethergrim Playlist

 
 
 
I have been asked in a number of interviews whether I like listening to music while I work. I do—in fact I almost never work in silence. This morning I am thinking quite a lot about the Nethergrim, so I have switched to my Nethergrim playlist. Gets me in the right frame of mind, donchu know.
 
C.S. Lewis once mentioned how easy it was to perform a sort of “demonic puppetry” when writing The Screwtape Letters, but that it left an awful, lingering feeling in him afterward. I know precisely what he means.
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The greatest spam in the history of everything
I got this one the other day. It’s a bit sad that I am not Special Agent Fred E. Foldvary. Whoever he is, I wish him and the inestimable J.P. Monfort all the best in their efforts to defend the space-time continuum.
 
J.P.MONFORT IS UNIQUELY TRAINED AND HIGHLY MOTIVATED. SPECIALIST WITHOUT EQUAL, IMMUNE TO ANY COUNTER MEASURES. THERE IS NO SECRET HE CANNOT EXTRACT NO SECURITY HE CANNOT BREACH NO PERSON HE CANNOT BECOME. HE HAS MOST LIKELY ANTICIPATED THIS VERY CONVERSATION AND IS READY TO STRIKE IN WHATEVER DIRECTION WE MOVE. J.P.MONFORT IS THE LIVING MANIFESTATION OF DESTINY AND HE HAS MADE YOU, SPECIAL AGENT Fred E. Foldvary, HIS LIFETIME MISSION TO PERSUADE AND CONQUER. DESPERATE TIMES, DESPERATE MEASURES. THIS MESSAGE HAS BEEN SENT FROM YEAR 2210. OVER AND OUT



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Author/Father-to-be/Cat Mattress

I am presently deep in development for Book 3, sequel to The Nethergrim and The Skeleth, as you might glimpse from the left side of the picture. I’m eagerly (and maybe just a little nervously) preparing to be a parent for the very first time, as referenced by the blurry image of Tina in the background. Mostly, though, I am a cat mattress, as shown in center
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The Fathergrim
In 2015, I went fairly quiet on this channel due to a rush of work on THE SKELETH and numerous sources of sadness, as mentioned in previous posts.
This year, I have new reasons: a rush of work on Book 3, and the fact that my wife and I are expecting our first child, a girl, this August. Needless to say, we are both over the moon about this, and happy to share it with everyone now that we are a few months along. I’m sure that, along with the publicity for the release of THE SKELETH this May and hints about the third book, I will likely be posting about being an excited, nervous, joyful father-to-be.
This New Year’s Eve, I toasted with a close family member to a better 2016 than 2015 had been. So far, so good.
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Another music memory
Long ago, I played real guitar in a real band. It was one of the things I first started doing with the woman who is now my wife—but that’s a story for another day. I don’t play guitar anymore, in fact I no longer even own a guitar. That might be why I have taken an inordinate pleasure in the various editions of Rock Band that have been released over the years. My friends and I could pick up our plastic controllers, rig up the electronic drums and microphones, and for an afternoon (or a night—we used to play until 3 am) we could play our hearts out. We’ve mostly stopped doing that now, too, so I am in the interesting position of getting nostalgic for two bands I was in, one real and one fake.
I forget which edition of Rock Band had Motörhead’s Ace of Spades it its list, but I remember that it first came up in rotation when I was not doing the singing. My friend, who I don’t think knew the song, was about to blunder through it, when I hit Pause and leapt in front of him.
“No, no, no,” said I, adjusting the mic stand. “You have to do it like this!” I set it up so that the stand was taller than he was, and pointed the mic down at him. 
And it worked! Out from his throat came the rough, growly “Ifyaliketagamble, Ishowyahowtaplay…” 

PS: If I ever did play real music again, and I chose for some reason to switch to bass, then Rickenbacker 4001 all the way, baby! Just like Lemmy… and Mike Mills… and psychedelic-era Paul.
 
 
 
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