Cole Chase | Updates

Have fun storming the castle!

Cole Chase — Mon, 1 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

That treasured line from The Princess Bride didn't inspire the next Shadowfast heist thriller, but it could have. The real inspiration was my trip to Germany, floating up the Middle Rhine where we saw 30 castles on the hills in one day.

I fictionalized Schloss Stolzenfels (pictured) as Schloss Falkensten ("Falcon Stone"), where Shadowfast plays at a science conference After Party. They want to trick a genius into divulging where he hides his breakthrough invention. No one counted on eco-warrior terrorists with assault rifles raiding the party.

If that's not enough Germany for you, Shadowfast also puts their mark on Bad Kreuznach, a picturesque, ancient spa town. Cisco just wants to drive to Strasbourg, but he turns aside to shake the mysterious trio of cars following him. A death-defying car chase on streets built for wooden carts, not Audis and BMWs, livens this setting.

I'm halfway through drafting this next Shadowfast adventure. Watch for it later in 2026!

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War Machine: My Kind of Stupid

Cole Chase — Thu, 12 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The trailer for War Machine inspired me to do something I've never done before: I texted a half-dozen buddies to come watch the movie with me.

For action fans, sharing a TV with a spouse requires everyone to have a turn. I have seen every episode of Bridgerton, a Victorian romantic frock flick, because my wife digs it. I have endured three seasons of Victoria, and learned grudging respect for Downton Abbey. But these aren't my first pick for entertainment. My wife likes some action movies but if they get dumb enough, she skewers them mercilessly while I'm trying to enjoy them.

When I was a book designer, I typeset all kinds of books I thought were stupid. Of course you try not to reveal to your client that you think their project is unworthy. I had a tough time concealing my low opinion of a romance book I designed that read to me like Hardy Boys for Women. Thus, when a small publisher told me the book had just won awards, I burst out incredulously, "But it's such crap!" Oh wow did I embarass myself. But she just smiled and said, "Don't say 'crap.' Just say, 'It's not for me.'"

She had a great point. I make fun of frock flicks by throwing stones from my castle of glass, because I enjoy lots of stupid stuff, from comic books to John Wick movies. The criteria is not, "Is it stupid?" The criteria is, "Is it MY kind of stupid?"

War Machine was my kind of stupid. It guaranteed me at least one night of not watching Bridgerton.

It is basically an all-male cast, perfect for what I jokingly dubbed "Macho Movie Night" at my house. I set up a taco bar (some assembly required, but make the taco of your dreams), my friends brought beer, dip, desserts, and we settled in to watch Reacher vs. Robots.

I worried because getting six dudes to come over meant we didn't all have the same politics. Ages ranged from 40 to 70+. I invited both Friends and Neighbors, which demographically divided into three smart-asses and three normal civilians. Was this going to work? Let's face it, men are scary!

Together, we watched the first act of War Machine in silence. Alan Ritchson plays a guy who grudgingly agrees with his brother that if they applied to Ranger School together, it might be awesome. In the first 10 minutes of the film, the brother dies, and now Our Hero must become a Ranger to honor his brother's memory.

LOTS of footage of tough workouts, people failing their candidacy, and Ritchson imitating Superman as he starts to lead the pack; yet due to his grief, he does not want to lead. He baffles his commanders, who see him breaking course records but can tell he has the emotional intelligence of a bag of hammers.

I would say "Spoiler Alert" next, except the trailer gave it away long before we turned the movie on. At the midpoint of the movie, during what is supposed to be the final test you must pass to become a Ranger, the movie simply switches genre. It has been a gritty military movie, but now it is: fight alien robots, soldier! Rangers lead the way!

During the first half of the film, two of my smartass friends tossed out occasional wise cracks to no laughs. As the giant mech entered, a third friend began adding his trenchant observations. By the third act, we were all enjoying the hell out of the movie AND cracking ourselves up making fun of it. But, you know, fondly.

War Machine is mostly predictable and over the top, yet in a way we all found entertaining. The pace is flawless, rarely slowing down for more than a sentence or two of character beats. I thought the mechs looked fabulous, especially with a cool laser effect that leaves the lasers swimming around on an object after it is scanned.

If the concept of Reacher vs. Robots doesn't turn you off from the jump, check it out. As a group we were all glad we'd seen the movie. The jokes did not stop afterwards, as my buddy cracked he couldn't wait to see War Machine 2: The Grab for Money. You can stream it on Netflix.

Was it stupid? Hell yes. But (and this is important!) it was Our Kind of Stupid. ##

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Ghosted by My Own Costume

Cole Chase — Sat, 25 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000

I once felt making a Halloween costume each year was a chance to celebrate creativity, but nowadays, I greet it more with an eyeroll and a grumpy, “One more damn thing to do.” Are you into it? Or… not?

What is the best Halloween outfit you ever wore?

The earliest costume I remember was my worst. I wanted to be The Invisible Man. I was six, so not exactly a master of sewing. Neither were my mom and dad, but they tried.

This was before the days when every kid purchased a licensed cartoon character outfit, and before YouTube DIY videos. We were on our own!

Original, yes; functional, no

My dad found an old white button-up shirt he didn’t need. The collar could button closed above my head. He mounted cut cardboard on my scalp to provide “shoulders,” then twisted a wire coat hanger to suspend a baseball cap a foot above that. The effect was meant to look like a hat on an invisible head. They cut tiny eyeholes near the shirt’s pocket, so I could look out the “invisible man’s” chest.

As dusk fell on Halloween, anticipation filled me. I knew my breathtakingly original idea would put the generic fairies, princesses, and hobos to shame.

Except, the coat hanger and the hat could not balance when I walked, falling off repeatedly. Soon, we ditched the whole assembly. I would still look like a guy with no head. Good enough.

Except, the flimsy cardboard I wore on my head, rather than standing out to form David-Byrne-Talking Heads broad shoulders, drooped right next to my ears.

Except, I kept complaining I couldn’t see, so mom cut the eyeholes larger. Twice.

By the time I trick-or-treated, I was just a kid wearing a big saggy shirt buttoned over my head, peering through giant eyeholes. When grown-ups asked if I was a ghost, I explained I was the Invisible Man. Their faces expressed skepticism or pity, but never delight. The kids a grade or two above me, pirates and hobos all, mocked me.

My costume concept flopped. I burned with chagrin at the triumph of dumb clichés such as “I’m a cowboy” over my innovative idea, which I had proudly invented my own precious self.

My consolation: going door to door, I still got enough candy that, under my mom’s rationing, it lasted me until Thanksgiving.

CAN-SPAM Means Yes, I Can Spam!

The Halloween costume I had the most fun with arose decades later, when I worked in cybersecurity. I went as Email Spam. I wore a Hormel Spam hat and a sparkly bow tie, and accosted co-workers while spouting spam subject lines, such as “This Nigerian Prince has millions of dollars for you,” and “BOGO at Shoe Warehouse!” and “Donate before they destroy America.” In cybersecurity, everybody got the joke and countered with their own spam lines. Friends riffing off each other on the fly is one of life’s great joys.

For the crew in my Shadowfast books, Halloween lives year-round. Whether singer Rory Jordan poses as the psychic Queen of Shadows, or con man Quinn Richards sabotages a businessman by posing as the world’s most eccentric billionaire, they often experience the thrill of temporarily leasing a different persona. (The stakes are a little higher than a bag of candy, though; for example, world peace.)

So how about you? What was your best costume? Worst? Happiest? What Halloween memories does my memoir trigger?

For my global friends, happy Dia de los Muertos, Guy Fawkes Day, or All Saints Day. May you find joy in just being you! ##

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They Featured Me on The Thriller Pitch Podcast

Cole Chase — Fri, 22 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

This podcast has a fun premise: even though my book is already published, I had two minutes to pitch it to the host, Mark P J Nadon, as if pitching to an agent or a publisher. Then he asked follow-up questions. So if you ever wondered what Metal Spies is about (the first book in my Shadowfast series), you can get the down-low right from me in two minutes. Then, if you want any of the "behind the scenes" inspiration, keep watching!

https://markpjnadon.ca/metal-spies-by-cole-chase/

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Intend Your Puns, You Cowards!

Cole Chase — Fri, 13 Jun 2025 00:00:00 +0000

"Puns are the lowest form of humor," Buddha taught. Or Oscar Levant. Or Jonathan Swift. Or someone; even mighty AI can't figure out who said it first.

Doesn't matter, because it's dead wrong.

How can puns be the lowest humor, when they're the most concise? When I grew up, funny men like Buddy Hackett or Flip Wilson based whole careers on telling actual jokes, requiring a story with a set-up and a main character and a narrative just to get to a punchline. Three to five minutes between laughs. But then came Rodney Dangerfield getting a laugh with every other concise line: "I told my wife she drew her eyebrows on too high. She looked surprised." "Two fish in a tank. One says to the other, 'How do you drive this thing?'"

I love puns for being dumb in clever ways. "Last night my wife and I were up all night arguing about which is the best vowel. I won." You simultaneously have to think about it a second, and when you get it, find yourself blurting, "That's so stupid!" If it were a meal, a chef would say "This amuse bouche balances tart and sweet; richness with acidity." But the layers of a pun? "That's so stupid!"

What's the fun of being an author if you can't enjoy wordplay? Father's Day is coming, which always makes me think of my dad and his cavalcade of groaners. I'll list a few below for fun. I think puns are a high form of humor. Maybe we don't know who first called them the lowest form, because they were just kidding. But you won't hear me saying, "No pun intended." Intend your puns, you cowards! #

Why can't you trust an atom? Because they make up everything.

I went to the zoo, but all they had was one animal: a dog. It was a shih tzu.

I had decided not to get a brain transplant, but then I changed my mind.

My wife says I need to start dieting. But in my defense, I've had a lot on my plate recently.

Can you list a country with no R in its name? No way.

What do you call a factory that makes products that are just okay? Satisfactory.

I superglued my thumb and forefinger. I'll be okay for awhile.

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No One Has Been Murdered in Space -- So Far

Cole Chase — Thu, 12 Jun 2025 00:00:00 +0000

There have been many deaths in space, usually from space craft malfunctions.

So far, no one has been murdered in space.

But given human nature, doesn't that seem inevitable as more and more people migrate to the Moon and beyond?

From Sputnik in 1957 until the first decade of the 21st century, escaping earth's atmosphere required such massive resources that only governments could attempt it. But "the privatization of space" has taken over.

Private companies from India and Japan have landed on the moon. Private companies have put space tourists into orbit. Private companies have launched satellites in low earth orbit. Even university students have launched "cube sats" in orbit.

As this trend continues, what laws govern disputes and crimes?

If an angry space tourist murders someone on the International Space Station, whose job is it to investigate that?

Which nation's laws will apply if crime occurs off-planet? The ISS is co-owned by Japan, Russia, and the US. Who takes the legal lead if a Canadian astronaut is found dead in the Russian wing by a Japanese astronaut?

SpaceX has launched thousands of Starlink satellites. Unlike its government predecessors, Starlink moves fast; and in this instance, it meant they didn't bother coating their satellites with anti-reflectants. Astronomers rose a furious cry when they discovered that the shiny streaks of Starlink satellites passing by ruined all their long-exposure space photography.

SpaceX agreed to lower the orbits of their satellites, so they didn't reflect the sun so prominently back to Earth. When they lowered their orbits, they put them precisely at the altitude US authorities had already promised Blue Origin for their coming satellite constellation. These being US companies, following ironclad tradition, everybody sued everybody else.

Soon private companies will have competing mining claims on the Moon. How will those be resolved? Soon a private company will have its own permanent space station; who sets the rules on it? If controversial Elon Musk fulfills his life-long goal and lands a ship on Mars, who decides how government runs on an entirely unsettled planet? If a government disagreed with his rules, what the hell could they do about it when it takes nine months' journey to project physical force?

These are things I think about when hatching my next future-facing thriller. I plan to explore these issues in fiction. Not science fiction. Up-to-the-minute reality. Watch this space! (Pun intended.)

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