"Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room": front artwork and back cover blurb

Here is the strikingly sexy and spectacularly spooky cover art for my pulp novel in progress, Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room, by Christopher Sorrenti, the very talented filmmaker/artist who edited The Thrillville Pulp Fiction Collection book trailer. Once again, I just supplied my designated cover artist with a basic premise - in this case, a zombie-like bellhop carrying bags for a noirish femme fatale vamp - and voila, Chris stepped up and hit it out of the park. I'll post the completed cover  (with titular text) when it's ready, which should be very soon, though I'm still in the early stages of actually writing the damn book, aiming for a pub date late this year. I've already posted excerpts on this blog - click here for Chapters One, Two, Three, and Four - and if you find any of it the least bit offensive to your delicate literary palate, I strongly suggest you quit right now, because you ain't read nothin' yet. "Like" and bookmark the official Facebook fan page for more updates and excerpts. I am pulling out all the stops to make this the most graphically lewd, unabashedly crude yet eloquently erotic, sardonically spiritual and even raunchily romantic book I've written yet, both abstract and visceral, repellent yet compelling. It won't be like anything you've ever read - even by me. Below is the back cover blurb, which will give you the basic ingredients to this sick yet seductive stewpot of vile vices run amok amid a decadent den of hedonistic horrors. But it's all in good fun! Stay tuned...cheers 'n' chills, Will the Quill.

Freaks That Carry Your Luggage Up to the Room is an unrelenting assault of sex and horror, a sensory overload that will blow your mind, all set within the claustrophobic confines of a mysteriously malevolent hotel, frequented by men and monsters alike; a nightmarish nexus of carnal carnage, with flesh-eating Mexican vampires, alien spies, mad scientists, deviant dwarves, horny zombies, teenage werewolves, Elvis impersonators, hit men, hustlers, clairvoyant cats and other random rebels and rejects feverishly fornicating and ferociously feasting beneath the repressive radar of polite society. This is Extreme Erotic Horror Noir, with a dash of satire and a twist of irony, not for the squeamish, but for anyone who wallows shamelessly in the corporeal illusion called Life.

This classic by the Rolling Stones is a recurring song in the book, though the lyrics take on new meaning in this context...

This grindhouse sickie inspired the character of Boris the bellhop....