McKrunch Interview

McKrunch is a member of The Kingdom of Blackspire’s park Eternal Glades ( Tigard, OR).

The chance to connect with the community a bit and add some outside accountability to my writing seemed fun!

Every day, I make my kids breakfast, then write for an hour before work. Twice a week one of my kids (Dark Alex) has a 1.5h badminton class. I drop him off, and my 14 year old (Echo) goes to Ava with me and we both write. Yes, that is as magical as it sounds. I also keep working on the weekends.

Some days it is a struggle. Burnout can be a factor, especially with a demanding job that expects a lot of creative output. It’s important to get enough sleep, exercise, and find time to fill the well.

I’m getting better at the balance part. 🙂 

Most of all, I’ve been astounded by the level and variety of creativity in the Amtgard community. I would say accountability has been helpful.

The Project

Death to False Gods is about a disgraced CEO rebuilding his life on a space station carved from the bones of dead gods. It has conspiracy, unhinged humor, and a lot more heart than you’d expect.

Think Firefly meets Elden Ring with a dash of Tony Stark.

Excerpt from chapter 24:

Liam slammed a shot of something called a Freedom Bomb, which combined Fireball whiskey with hard apple cider. It tasted like autumn and imperialism. “No,” he said with amused exasperation. “I’ve never been in a duel. That isn’t even a thing!”

The seven contestants were crammed around a table at McFreedom’s, a practical choice given Yang’s wheelchair and Sophon’s penchant for hovering. McFreedom’s was a shrine to America, but not the one Liam recognized. This version was a caricature cobbled together from beer commercials, reality TV, and Michael Bay movies. For most of them, born and raised here on Sanctum, it was the only America they knew… And they were massive fans.

Flags, tanks, eagles, and soldiers dominated the decor, like a parade float that exploded indoors. One waiter strutted past in full Civil War regalia, complete with a fake saber. Another, dressed like Hulk Hogan, delivered a plate of fries to a nearby table and suddenly yelled, “Brother!” with so much enthusiasm it made the recipient choke on his beer.

Alice, the sarcastic brunette who had fought as a hairless cat, wasn’t buying his position on duels. Seated so close their elbows touched, her sweet perfume mingled with the lingering scent of Freedom Bomb. “Of course Americans duel,” she said. “Okay, then how did Hamilton die?”

Liam said, “It’s been illegal for over a hundred and fifty years! Wait… You do know Hamilton was a historical figure, right? As in, he died literally centuries ago?”

The pause that followed was just long enough to make Liam’s mouth quirk up into an open-mouthed grin of disbelief. “I knew that,” Alice finally blurted, unconvincingly sharp. “But like how old were you the first time you were shot?”

“Alice, I have never been shot. Why would I have been shot? Are shootings super common here? Should I be worried?”

The whole table laughed as though he’d said something quite clever. Sophon spoke up, “Are you not an American cowboy? All of us know that a cowboy’s first gunshot wound is a rite of passage… But I understand that it might be personal.”

Gault asked, “I bet it was an AR-15! I’ve been wondering about the 15: that has to be the age level, right?”

Vera confirmed, “That makes sense… So MP5s are your entry-level kindergarten weapon.”

Gault said, “I heard they changed the name to kinderguardian during the Reagan administration.”

Simon’s mouth hung open as everyone nodded along. The matter seemed to be settled, because Yang asked a question.

“Your tradition of Thanksgiving has long fascinated me. Is it meant to celebrate your subjugation of indigenous peoples, or is it more about the glorification of consumption?” Yang leaned forward in his wheelchair, genuine curiosity in his voice. “And what is being thanked?” His voice dropped to a whisper and he asked, “Have you ever subjugated a minority?” 

Liam blinked again. Was this a prank? Could they genuinely be this clueless about life on Earth? “Wow… There’s a lot to unpack here man…”

He was saved by the waiter, who walked up to the table and said, “I have a dream… That you order the friiiiied eagle special!”

As the table erupted in laughter, Liam froze. His brain short-circuited as he took in the waiter’s costume. Before him was a grinning white man with sloppy brown makeup, a crooked fedora, and a cheap suit that probably came straight off of a clearance rack. Martin Luther King. Liam sank into his seat, covering his mouth with his hand.

Sweet baby Jesus, he thought. This is as bad as the monitor lizard.

The waiter looked at him and asked the table, “Is your friend okay?”

Sophon said, “Simon is an actual American! I suspect your heartfelt tribute to his homeland has left the little scamp a bit overwhelmed. He probably just needs some opioids, or perhaps an emotional support cheeseburger. Truly, it is as though his ancestors walk among us.”

McKrunch’s Motivation

Two years ago, my wife had a brutal fight with cancer. The odds weren’t great. I’ll never forget driving to pick her up after a routine procedure, taking a call from her doctor, and finding out her survival was a coin toss.

(In retrospect, that would have been a great time to pull over!)

I’ve always wanted to be an author. Writing is what I’m best at, but in the past I always hit a wall and tapped out after a few chapters.

Being that close to mortality flipped a switch in me. In the middle of all that chaos and pain, I started writing.

I have a coffee mug on my desk that says “No More Fucking Around,” and that’s the place I’m creating from. This isn’t a side project for me. I’m going for it.

I was also lucky enough to have a close friend, a talented filmmaker, take an interest in the project early on. He spent months offering encouragement and storytelling advice, and that guidance helped me find my voice faster than I would have on my own.