Chronicle Books Blog

This week, we’re excited to have Avery Monsen and Jory John guest posting on the blog. Avery and Jory are the authors of All my friends are dead, All my friends are still dead, K is for Knifeball: An Alphabet of Terrible Advice and I Feel Relatively Neutral About New York. Read on for their Valentine’s Day advice and download All my friends are dead inspired valentines here.

It’s Valentine’s Day. And depending on your perspective, this is either the most wonderful time of the year, or the most horrendous and soul crushing.

And we, professional book authors (see: K is for Knifeball: An Alphabet of Terrible Advice, in stores now, along with All my friends are dead and All my friends are still dead) and love experts (no current proof available) are here to help those who consider Valentine’s Day just another chance to mock their lifestyles and single-hood, when all they want to do is be left alone to finish the next season of Homeland.

Singles: we’re here to help! Will you take the help? Will you? Take it! Couples: go read a blog entry about Cake Pops or Boo or something!

And so: we’ve taken your most burning Frequently Asked Love Questions (FALQ) and compiled them below, with (SPOILER ALERT) some valentines for Valentine’s and slapped our names on this blog entry.

Now dig in… and get ready to celebrate next Valentine’s Day with your hot, hot, hot, lover (note: possible fever) because, for all intents and purposes, this Valentine’s Day is still a total, unadulterated, no-frills bust.

Q. Why am I still single?
A. This is a question that The Lonelys (trademarked, and our code name for singles) have been asking themselves since the dawn of time. Fortunately, we’ve figured it out for you. We’ve done the work so you don’t have to. And we can think of two possible scenarios: 1. You just haven’t met the right person yet. 2. You met the right person, but you or your possessions were emitting a weird odor that day. Check the bottom of your backpack for a forgotten, rotting banana, for instance.

Q. What am I supposed to do on Valentine’s Day if I don’t have a date?
A. Let us rephrase this question, just slightly, in the way of answering your question: What aren’t you supposed to do on Valentine’s Day if you don’t have a date? Do you see what we’re saying here? The only thing we can think of that’s completely off-limits is actually going out on a date. Because you definitely can’t do that. Not now and maybe not ever. But everything else is up for grabs! Climb a rock! Blast into space! Repel down a rock! Who cares!

Q. I saw an attractive human being on a sidewalk once and didn’t talk to them and then posted a Missed Connection on Craigslist. Do you think they’ll answer it?
A. The chances of them answering your Missed Connection are the same as the chances of us answering this very question: 100 percent. Just keep clicking “refresh” on your browser. Love is coming.

Q. I think my true love was Laura Jefferson when we were in the second grade. Do you know if she’s still available?
A. Ah, the old my-second-grade-love-got-away scenario. It’s sweet and romantic, with a dash of creepy, honestly. And we’d love to be able to tell you that Laura’s single, but she moved to Houston for a copywriting gig and met a guy and they bought a house and now they have two kids. If it’s any consolation, both kids are named after you.

Q. Is it better to find somebody who shares similar interests or somebody who fills in my gaps by liking different things?
A. If important to find somebody exactly like you in every way, including looks. We call this “Couple Cloning.” Unless you’re rich enough to clone yourself. Either way, problem solved.

Q. Avery and Jory, I love your work. Truly. Your books make me laugh out loud on repeated readings. I buy them as gifts for friends and enemies, alike. I don’t even have a question here.
A. Thank you, anonymous book-reader and question-writer. It’s people like you who make our jobs so much more bearable. We like you, too. P.S. We’re both still looking for our soul mates, if you’d like to send in a pic. P.P.S. Your enemies are our enemies. Your enemy’s enemies are our friends.

Q. Love, blah, blah, blah. You know? It’s like, What is the ultimate goal here?
A. Oh, you’re thinking big picture. We like that. We’re a couple of big-picture guys, ourselves. We’re barely able to function on a day-to-day level. This is true. That “rotten banana” thing from FAQ No. 1 was based on actual events. So listen: the ultimate goal, when it comes to love, is to find a person you can be buried next to for all eternity, where your offspring can visit once a year. Enjoy!

Q. Have you guys ever dated the same gal? If so, how did that resolve itself?
A. Much like your Ben Affleck/Matt Damon type of healthy, enduring partnership, we’ve established a Literary Bro-Code (LBC). As we see it, our LBC in this healthy, enduring partnership is this: if one person spots somebody they think is even remotely attractive, the other one of us is banned from ever even looking in her direction, ever again. Do you see how that works?

Q. That doesn’t sound totally healthy.
A. Was that a question? It’s very easy to sit there and lob criticisms from your anonymous bully pulpit. Why don’t you go comment on a YouTube video, next.

Q. Whoa, whoa, don’t get so worked up.
A. Sorry. It’s just a really stressful time of year. Valentine’s Day is the worst.

Q. OK, so say I spot the right person. My Mr. or Ms. Soulmate. I’m positive of our attraction, even though we’ve never spoken. Approaching people is absolutely one of the hardest things known to humanity. It’s like, What if I get shot down? OK? My ego couldn’t handle that kind of rejection.
A. We hear you, George McFly, and we’ve made it easy for you — the gentle wallflower — by creating these Valentines, which you can print, cut, and pass out to possible lovers. Let us do the talking for you! Seriously! Don’t open your damn mouth, because you’re just going to say something that ruins the moment. We see you about to speak. Please don’t. And happy Valentine’s Day!

Q. Ultimately, should I remain hopeful?
A. What else are you gonna do?

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As you’ve undoubtedly heard — that is, if you’ve been talking to our mothers — we (Avery & Jory, authors of the bestselling All My Friends Are Dead, and more have a new humor book: K is for Knifeball: An Alphabet of Terrible Advice. We thought we’d use this opportunity to answer some Frequently Asked Questions. So, without any further ado, we present:

The K is for Knifeball FAQ!

HEY! WHAT EXACTLY IS A KNIFEBALL?
Good question, us! A knifeball is a knife affixed to a ball. Any type of knife or ball will do. Some winning combinations: butter-knife-bowling-ball, Swiss-Army-Super-Ball, broad-sword-marble. Anything goes, really.

HOW ARE THEY ATTACHED?
Generally by a strong sort of tape, although we’ve heard of more than one instance where wood-glue was substituted.

AND WHY DOES “K” STAND FOR “KNIFEBALL”?
It was between “knifeball” and “knifeknife.” Knifeball seemed more fun.

DON’T YOU THINK SOME OF THE ADVICE IN THIS BOOK — LIKE LOCKING YOURSELF IN A TRUNK OR SURPRISING A POLICE OFFICER WITH A TICKLE-FIGHT — MIGHT LEAD TO SOME BAD SITUATIONS?
What isn’t bad for you these days? You know? Try just breathing in the city. OK? Now that’s bad for you. Breathing in the city is a thousand times more dangerous than tickling a cop. [Note to our editors: can somebody fact-check this? We didn't know where, exactly, to look up this kind of statistic. We tried http://www.whatisworsebreathinginthecityorticklingacop.org, but that turned out to not be a thing, so instead we just searched for pictures of puppies wearing Santa hats and then took a nap.]

OKAY, WAIT. SO IS THIS A CHILDREN’S BOOK OR WHAT? HONESTLY? BE HONEST NOW.
Well, you know what they say…

WHAT? WHAT DO THEY SAY?
They say it’s definitely not a children’s book. Like, it looks like a children’s book, but the humor is edgy and there’s some dangerous advice that would almost certainly get a kid in trouble. Although, to be honest, we recently showed the book to some kids and they laughed and seemed to enjoy themselves and didn’t immediately tickle a cop. Use your best judgment.

IT SEEMS LIKE ALL OF YOUR BOOKS LOOK LIKE KIDS’ BOOKS BUT ARE REALLY FOR ADULTS.
Watch your tone.

OK. SO WHAT’S ANOTHER FUNNY JOKE FROM THE BOOK?
Like… give it away for free? How about we just give you one of the letters from the book. Here it is: R.

R, HUH?
Yes.

AND HOW ARE YOU GUYS DOING, GENERALLY?
Like, mental-health wise?

SURE.
[Long pause]

GOTCHA. DO YOU HAVE ANY EVENTS COMING UP?
A few! We’ll be at New York University on October 11, The Library Shop at The New York Public Library on October 13 at 12:30, and Greenlight Bookstore on October 18. You can also find us at New York Comic Con on October 13. We’ll be signing at the Kinokuniya Bookstore booth, 1275, at 4pm. Be there! No? OK. Whatever makes you happy.

HOW ABOUT A FEW SPREADS FROM THE BOOK?
Fine, fine.

Whoops! That last one isn’t from the book. It’s just a picture of a puppy wearing a Santa hat. Pretty cute, though, huh? [Note to our editors: Is it too late to change the title of our book to "Puppies Wearing Santa Hats"? Let us know!]

ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SAY?
You’re on Facebook! Join our group! And take this Knifeball Quiz! And follow us on Twitter @averymonsen and @joryjohn! That’s everything, hopefully. If there’s anything else, we’ll post it to our new blog, http://www.whatisworsebreathinginthecityorticklingacop.org/.

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Gentle reader: just this morning, you were telling somebody that you should enter more contests replete with dinosaurs, photos of yourself and awesome prizes… and now here’s your chance. Oh yes, here’s your chance to win books and shirts and temporary tattoos and original art. Coincidence? Hardly.

THE BACKSTORY

Two years and seven days ago, we brought forth on this continent a new book, conceived in hilarity and dedicated to the proposition that all our friends are dead.

That book, of course, was “Tuesdays With Morrie” and we called ourselves “Mitch Albom.” (The pseudonym is an anagram of our given first names, “Mavery” and “Jorbom.”)

We kid, of course. As the fictional Albom, we released “Morrie” back in 1997.

The actual book we’re referring to in our preamble, four sentences back, is All my friends are dead, a laugh-inducing illustrated look at death, dying and loneliness. Yes, death, dying and loneliness: the trifecta of laugh-induction. Write that down, prospective humorists. (We’ll wait.)

Now, for those who like reading numerous blog entries, we told the tale of how AMFAD came to be back in 2010, in a post called From Button to Book: The Evolution of All my friends are dead.

If you don’t trust hyperlinks — and who can blame you in this day and age, especially since that last blog post is NSFW! — we’ll quickly recap:

We met as camp counselors, back in 2002. We decided to buy a button-maker, which would enable us to sell buttons and get rich (off of our friends). One of many ideas was an “All my friends are dead” button. That seemed popular, so we later made it into a T-shirt. The shirts sold out and we created different T-shirt designs with the same phrase. Then we started making 12-page “All my friends are dead” ‘zines that we’d bind up at copy-shops and sell at local boutiques and on our website. A Chronicle Books editor found one of the ‘zines and approached us about the possibility of turning it into a 96-page book. We said no. Just kidding. We said yes.

That old story. The old story of creating a button at a summer camp and having it turned into a book, eight years later.

Since its publication, we’ve been continually surprised about how All my friends are dead has connected to people and vice-versa. Off the tops of our heads, we can remember these things happening:
1. An animated GIF of 10 pages of our book set a world record on Tumblr.
2. Ellen DeGeneres tweeted about our book.
3. A handful of folks have gotten AMFAD tattoos of some of our characters. On their bodies. Their personal bodies.
4. More than 3,000 people have joined our Facebook page.
5. The book has sold more than 175,000 copies, we’ve been told.
6. We’ve invested all of our money in silver.
7. Neil Armstrong returned to the moon and attached our book to the base of the American flag. He also named two stars after us.
8. Our mothers, Gail & Deb, have told us how very proud they are.

It’s been quite a ride. (We just made that phrase up.) What a long, strange trip it’s been. (Ditto that phrase. Also, we just coined “Ditto that phrase.”) But now comes the big news, and we’ve effectively succeeded in burying the lead:

LAST MONTH, A SEQUEL TO “ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD” WAS PUBLISHED!

That’s maybe how we should’ve started this thing. Anyway, the title is All my friends are STILL dead and we’re very happy with it. There are some returning characters — the dinosaur, the dodo and Death — and many new additions, including a tiny robot who just can’t win.

We also released an animated GIF of some pages from the sequel and it’s gotten almost 29,000 notes (likes and reposts) on Tumblr as of this writing. So that says something, right?

DRUM-ROLL PLEASE

And now, ladies and gentlemen, we’re very pleased to announce the aforementioned All my friends are still dead photo contest, an interactive way to celebrate the sequel, and we’d love your, um, interaction. Here’s the deal:

We’ve created this cutout of our dinosaur. We’d like you to download the little fellow, then cut him out along the dotted lines. Take the cutout to a place that’s special to you and photograph yourself standing next to the dinosaur. Be creative. Do you live near Mt. Rushmore? The La Brea Tar Pits? The Grand Canyon? Space? No? Because any and all of those places would be perfect. See what you can do.

Next, pick a favorite photo you’ve taken. Upload it over on the Chronicle Books Facebook page. It’s just that easy.

In return, we’re going to pick our favorites in May and give out some fabulous prizes, including original artwork from All my friends are STILL dead, signed copies of both books, the All my friends are dead felt journal, a t-shirt and some “All my friends are still dead” temporary tattoos. They’re really neat looking, these tattoos. You’ll look much cooler than you do right now. Trust us.

And that’s it! In conclusion, happy photo-ing. We’re excited to see what you come up with! See you on Facebook, which is a very popular social networking site!

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Gentle Readers,

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Kindness is in the air, along with love, generosity, and a smidge of pollen. People are smiling a bit more, while babies are crying a little bit less, at least the babies that we hang out with. And, if we’ve predicted the weather correctly, snow is currently falling all over the San Francisco Bay Area, covering both the Pointy Building and Golden Gate Bridge in two feet of pristine powder, the first time in dozens of years, if not millions. Truly a magical, historical, pointy sight, we’re sure.

For us, it’s also a lovely time of year because (from what we’ve heard) many of you have given each other All My Friends Are Dead as gifts, whether as a heartfelt here’s-something-you’ll-laugh-at offering, or a passive aggressive you’re-absolutely-going-to-die-someday-no-matter-how-many-wheat-grass-drinks-and-elliptical-machines-you-ingest type of veiled threat.

And however you use our perfect-for-the-stocking (and perfect-for-the-menorah) shaped book, whether as loving gesture or angry promise, we’re just glad that you’ve continued thinking about our circa-2010 creation, long after we, personally, have moved to an island paradise in the South Pacific, never to deal with the struggles of waiting in line — or trying to take a left off Market St., in San Francisco, which is just an unbelievable hassle, who designed these streets? — ever again.

Island-retirement is wonderful. But we’ve digressed. We’re writing this, our second blog post for this website, because we wanted to give something back. You, Attractive Reader, have been so kind to us, what with your purchases (and your impending purchases) of our little, yellow book. So we, in turn, made you some gift tags, featuring some of our most popular characters — Mr. Death, Senior Dinosaur, and Monsieur Yeti, among others — and they’re all saying things related to a.) mortality b.) gifts and c.) gift tags. The usual.

We’re no Martha Stewart(s), but your finished product should look
something like … this!

Follow these instructions very carefully or you might lose a holiday-finger. Here’s what you do with our tags (click on the image below to download the PDF):

1. Read them.

2. Print them.

3. Cut them.

4. Attach them.

5. Sit back and watch your friend/loved one’s reaction.

5a. We apologize if it’s not the reaction you were hoping for.

5b. We were making these on a deadline.

5c. And, after all, they’re free with the price of printer paper and a computer. And who are you to get all high-and-mighty, after all? Jeesh. We’re just trying to do something nice and you’re going to give us grief? What’s with all the grief, lately? Double jeesh.

6. Enjoy!

And don’t forget to pick up a copy or three of All My Friends Are Dead!
We thank you.

Your best pals,
Avery Monsen and Jory John

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When you’re strolling through your favorite mom-and-pop bookshop and you see our new book, All My Friends Are Dead, and you immediately buy a copy for yourself and four more for your best friends, you might not immediately realize that that little book has been in the works for a long time.

Yes, it’s a story as old as time itself, full of intrigue, mystery, two births, an intervention, and at least one unsolved murder.

Just kidding. But it’s a pretty decent story. And it all starts with a button.

Here we go…

PHASE I: THE BUTTON WE JUST REFERENCED

We met while working as counselors at Camp Winnarainbow, a performing arts camp in Northern California. It’s the kind of camp that teaches you how to juggle, where to put your compost and how to get along with each other in 110-degree weather.

In the summer of 2003, on the drive up to camp, we decided to buy a button-maker from a mail-order catalogue. It’s hard to say exactly what we were thinking. For some reason, in the car, it made so much sense. We’d sell the buttons to other counselors for $1 each and the button-maker would pay for itself!

Then we realized no one brought any cash to camp, and our entrepreneurial aspirations were momentarily crushed. We were $300 in the hole. That hole, however, didn’t stop us from gleefully button-making the days away, as the children placed in our care went largely unsupervised. (Note to anybody from camp: just kidding!) (Note to everyone else: we’re absolutely not kidding. It’s a wonder those kids made it out of there alive.)

All day long, we’d make buttons of little drawings and clippings from old magazines. We knew we’d struck gold when we cut out a dinosaur from a National Geographic and wrote “All my friends are dead” on it. The button was quickly bartered to another counselor for the price of one deep-tissue back-rub. Remember: nobody had cash. Also remember: we carry a lot of tension in our shoulders.

Here’s a blurry, faded photo of that original button, provided by its owner:

PHASE II: THE SHIRT, WHICH WAS A LOGICAL STEP FROM A BUTTON

Everyone seemed to like the button. At night, people would gather around it, giggling until the sun came up.

We thought, aloud: “Heeeyyy … if people like this image on a button clipped to a shirt, maybe we can eliminate the middleman and just put the image directly onto a shirt!”

Presto! “All My Friends Are Dead” t-shirts were born. They were black & white and they looked like this. (Remember: this is 2003, when Avery hadn’t yet figured out how to draw a dinosaur.)

Much to our surprise, all 50 sold out within a couple weeks. So we printed some more, this time in color and in different designs!

Like a giraffe, demand for the shirts was high and tall and with a long, disgusting tongue. (That last part may only apply to the giraffe.) People connected to this sentiment and they wanted our shirts, using actual currency (no more back-rubs!) to purchase them. Soon, most of our friends had gotten one, and then their friends wanted one. And so on.

It started getting to the point where we’d be sitting in a restaurant and we’d see somebody we’d never met sporting our shirt.

“We made that!” we’d shriek. “That shirt you’re wearing! We made that! You’re wearing it and we made it! Where did you get it? Did you buy it? At a store? What’s your name?”

We’re really very charming.

PHASE III: THE HANDMADE BOOK

So the shirts were selling regularly, and all was well. We decided to expand our clothing line, and tossed around ideas. This was where we had a gentlemanly disagreement that eventually altered the course of our lives.

One of us (to remain unnamed) decided that it would be a good idea to make a new shirt with a talking tree, saying, “All my friends are end tables.” The other one of us (Avery Monsen) thought that the idea didn’t work out of context. Without the original dinosaur, he thought, the tree wasn’t funny.

Imagine 15 phone calls where that was the only item being discussed. Welcome to our lives. Seriously.

Somehow, this all led not to another shirt, but to a 12-page book that we made by hand at Kinko’s, a book called (any guesses? anybody?) All My Friends Are Dead.

We’d hunker down in our local copy shop, jittery from various energy drinks, hands twitching and gyrating over the nation’s finest copiers and computers and cutting instruments, emerging hours later with 50 little books which we carried in a shoebox. We sold them on our website and at Little Otsu, a swell little paper-goods establishment on Valencia St. in San Francisco’s Mission District.

This led to something that probably doesn’t happen too often…

PHASE IV: THE BOOK-BOOK

An editor at Chronicle Books happened to be shopping at Little Otsu and happened to see one of our mini-books and happened to buy it and happened not to lose it on the walk home. Everything was going our way! Like the end of “Serendipity” starring John Cusack, where he meets his soul mate at an ice rink and it starts snowing!

Anyway, to make a very long blog entry slightly less long, Chronicle came to us, one day, in the form of three beautiful editors. As far as we can remember (it’s hazy) they were all wearing white robes and one of them carried a harp.

“How about making this 12-page mini-book into a 96-page mega-book?” they asked in unison, as doves flew out of their robes, and we said “yes” on the spot.

And the rest was history.

So, what’s the takeaway from all this? It’s simple:

If you buy a button-maker, you’re absolutely guaranteed to get a lucrative book deal with Chronicle Books. It’s simple math:

Summer camp + buttons – focusing on your campers + brainstorming + magazines + dinosaurs = a book deal! Always!

Got it? Now get out there, and buy our book! (Please, please buy our book. We’re terrible with money, and this is sort of the only thing we’ve got going on right now. In a very real sense, our student loan payments depend on you.)

Your best friends for life,
Avery Monsen & Jory John

Comment on this blog post for a chance to win an All My Friends Are Dead t-shirt! 3 lucky winners will be chosen at random on Friday, August 6, 2010 and notified by email.