A Love Letter to January

Actually, I'm pretty glad January is over. It's been cold, so cold. The kids at school are about ready to explode with cabin fever. I'm tired of dry skin and cracked hands.

Bring on the sun! Bring on spring!

But first, let me pause to reflect:

I wrote three new short stories ("Tommy of the Flood", "Empty Vessels", and "The Distillery") plus one flash piece ("Fuzzy") inspired by one of Owen's books and another flash that will remain nameless for the time being. I edited a couple other bits and launched them in to the ether.

I placed a drabble with Drabblecast, a weird flash piece with Everyday Weirdness, and a magical realism short with A cappella Zoo.

A few things were published on the web, but my favorite appearances for January landed in Monstrous from Permuted Press and Northern Haunts from Shroud.

I tinkered with Rock Gods and Scary Monsters a bit and wrote about 3.5K on The House Eaters.

In support of the small press, I took out a subscription to Murky Depths and purchased the latest edition of Black Ink Horror (#5).

Whew.

January was a good month for personal reflection, too. Thanks for all the great discussions.

I'm going to go play with my kids.

The Swift Kick in the [Pants]

Natalie Sin has read my mind in her post today. At least part of my mind. Some parts I can't even read.

When I was an undergraduate student, one of my favorite writing instructors called me into his office for a conference about my work. His first question, to the best of my memory, went something like this:

"Aaron, are you the kind of guy who needs a swift kick in the ass or a pat on the back?"

I answered without hesitation. "Kick in the ass."

I find it too easy to become complacent, to tell myself, "hey, things are going pretty good". Then I become lazy, edit too little, send stories out before they are as crisp as they should be. The editors of the world know how to deliver that kick in the ass. Complacency is an ugly disease, an ungainly thing that chokes the benefits of hard work and determination.

I like the proverbial pat on the back as much as the next guy, but I know the swift kick is better for me in the long run. Day by day, I'm becoming better at kicking my own ass. It's my goal to keep kicking until I don't need to kick anymore.

Metaphorically, of course. (I hope I didn't need to explain that...)

Into the Time Cave & Better than Grad School

This message has been sent via a time warp (www.timecave.com). I'm trying something new to help publish stories on a regular schedule at Fifty-Two Stitches.

I also wanted to thank those of you who read my inane rambles and post replies, especially the regulars that offer so much insight into the writing biz.

Having conversations like yesterday's are really better than grad school (at least my experience in grad school). I've learned so much about the writing business in the past two years thanks to fellow travelers, and I am indebted to all of you.

Thanks.

Now get back to work.

Northern Haunts Release, Other Thoughts on the Biz

Northern Haunts has officially been released. Buy a copy at Amazon or Shroud's website as the profits go to the American Cancer Society. I'm pleased that my work could be part of this project.

I have a jumbled stew in my brain right now, so have patience. Yesterday's NY Times article about the state of self-publishing only served to stir the pot. Thankfully, I don't use this many overdone metaphors in my own stories. (usually)

One other integral part of my brain stew is a Brian Keene interview in the latest issue of Cemetery Dance. Jeremy D. Brooks addressed part of the interview on his blog. The bit that stuck with me (other than the evil of Wal-Mart) was that Keene discussed spending his advance for a book on promoting that book. Mid-listers (and I'm paraphrasing here) receive little or no cash or support for book promotion, so it is all up to the writer.

I'm a terrible salesman. I hate promoting anything (except reading and writing); that's why I became a public school teacher. The students are a captive audience and I really believe in my product.

Look, I love writing. I do. I've talked about the therapeutic qualities of sitting down in front of my computer and hammering out a story. I just don't know if I have the marathon legs to keep running the hamster wheel if/when I have a book published. (fingers crossed here that a book of mine ever would be published)

The benefit, it seems, to receiving a book deal from a major house is that one would have the advance money to spend on promotion. This won't be the case with self-publishing or smaller presses.

Aimee (my wife) is a guidance counselor at a local high school (not the one where I work, thank God; that would be too weird). She had a student come in to her office who was interested in becoming a writer. I remember being starry-eyed, thinking: gee, once I get that book deal^tm, I'll be set for life. Wow, was I ever naive.

The kids at school are definitely creating and consuming in a different way than I do. I don't think they feel the same about self-publishing. Maybe I should take a poll, but I can tell the times are a'changing. I'll always be a digital immigrant. They are the natives, and the future.

I'm not sure what to make of all this...stuff. Just my thoughts at the moment. Nobody ever said it would be easy, and the illusion that it is easy for guys like Keene, writers who have "made it", is only now beginning to crumble. Bye bye, illusion.

Writing is hard work, folks, for the published and the unpublished. It seems the game board is only becoming more slippery, at least in my mind.

No Longer a Dirty Word?

Interesting article over at the NY Times today about self-publishing. I have to thank Robert Swartwood for leading me there. The most thought provoking quote:

"Louise Burke, publisher of Pocket Books, said publishers now trawl for new material by looking at reader comments about self-published books sold online. Self-publishing, she said, is 'no longer a dirty word.'"

Really?

If only I could write a "how to" book on some lousy piece of software...

Read the rest of the article here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/28/books/28selfpub.html?pagewanted=1

And don't forget to check out the comments section of the Times article. Wacky and insightful.

What's in a Name?

I wish my name sounded spookier. Seriously, Aaron Polson doesn't inspire terror, does it?

Here's the real debate, spurred by a discussion my wife and I had while looking at the back cover of Monstrous. I've been calling myself Aaron A. Polson for the purpose of bylines for the last year and a half. Aimee suggests I keep the A. because it makes my name longer, thereby taking up more space and making it more noticeable. (Yes, we really did have this discussion.) I think the extra initial might sound pretentious. I loathe pretentiousness and never want to exude that vibe. A number of publications have just listed me as Aaron Polson despite what was on the manuscript anyway.

So what to do? Do I "officially" drop the middle initial? There aren't a superfluous amount of Aaron Polsons running around; it's not as if I'm trying to separate from the herd.

We Have Winners!

Owen giggled a little, but ultimately chose Rufflefrump McGrumpy as the name for my blog mascot. I'm sure Henri Fuseli is rolling around in his grave/tomb/sarcophagi on that, but he should be happy that Barry Napier (and K.V. Taylor) identified his painting: The Nightmare.

Jamie is now the proud owner of Zombie Haiku by Ryan Mecum and Barry will receive a copy of Sand #3, due this February with cover art by yours truly. (Hey, I'm no Fuseli, okay...)

In "please barf at the cuteness of my children news", Max asks to see Barack Obama in the newspaper every day since the full page spread on Tuesday. "Where id Barack Obama? Dare he id!"

Oh brother.

Editing: Rock Gods; Brainstorming: The House Eaters

I started tinkering (read: editing) Rock Gods and Scary Monsters yesterday, but the project I really want to start is something inspired by this place:

Yeah, it looks just a little scary in the picture. In real life, the place latched on to the back of my neck with icy tendrils. I was really knocked over with a sense of dread. See, I was lost when I drove past, and didn't notice the building the first time. Once I had to turn around, there it was, waiting, tucked away in the side of a small hill, surrounded by gnarly trees. On first glance, I thought: ruined house. Creepy. But it was much bigger than most run-down buildings around here. I sped away with a sense of awe: anything people build can just be devoured...

My sick little brain started working. As I drove away, I thought: man, something ate the front of that house. Fred (my muse) kicked into overdrive. New novel idea? The House Eaters (or something like that...)? What could eat a house? Why would it? Why were the Native American tribes in the plains mostly nomadic? (I know, to follow the herd animals--but work with my imagination here...I'm speculating.)

So, I'm editing Rock Gods and plotting/brainstorming for what I'm tentatively calling The House Eaters. Until the next short story inspiration comes along, that is. ;)

The Contest at the End of this Post

Do you want a free copy of Zombie Haiku by Ryan Mercum? There is a contest to win just that at the end of the post.

Last night, Aimee and I went out with another couple (on a school night even!) and I had two martinis. TWO! Thanks to older, wiser heads, I also had a glass of water and some Advil before hitting the sack, so I'm doing okay. I can already hear the cries of "Lightweight!" and I will not shrug them off. I am a lightweight. Have been for the last few years. Funny how kids will do that to you...

"Gary Sump's Hidden City" is the story of the day at Everyday Weirdness today. I wrote this one on a lark while reading Secret Lives by Jeff VanderMeer. I highly recommend Secret Lives; I laughed and felt disturbed in equal measures.

So, for the contest: See that little dude in the title above? He's from a fairly famous painting. I'd like to give him a name. I'm going to let Owen, my five-year-old, pick from entries sent by my dear readers. The winner receives:

I've only read the book once, so it is in excellent condition. Also, there will be a little something for the first person to correctly identify the painting from which the little guy hails.

Happy name hunting.

Oh yeah...the contest entries must be in by Sunday (1/25/09) at noon (my time) CST.

Out Jinxing the Jinx

Evidently, I out-jinxed the jinx by mentioning A cappella Zoo in a previous entry because they've accepted "A Sort of Honeymoon" for the Spring 2009 issue. I seem to write more weird magical realism these days. I think I need to test the water at home...

I changed the flag for the blog (again). I'm planning a giveaway "contest". Actually, I'm planning on purging a few books from my library at home, so stay tuned for freebies.

More later. Have a day.

Pet Sematary: Now That was Depressing

I just finished reading Pet Sematary, and despite the plot speeding away toward an inevitable climax like one of those killer Orinco Trucks on route 15, I enjoyed the book. Depressing as hell, but I enjoyed it. King is at his descriptive best during Louis Creed's walks to the burial grounds; I was really chilled by the fog, the large "thing" (Wendigo?) in the woods, and the marsh lights, etc. He also has a way of crunching the climax together--even though you know it isn't going to go well for our humble protagonist, you still hold out a little hope. He also loves to push the reader over the edge at the last minute...like what Gage did to his poor mother...(yuck).

If/when I read another Stephen King book, it will be a later work. Maybe Bag of Bones.

Thank goodness Obama's inauguration is spreading some hope, 'cause I'm about out after that book.

Weird? Who Me?

I landed one acceptance this weekend from Every Day Weirdness to go along with the five rejections from other publishers. Yeah, "Gary Sump's Hidden City" softened the blow a bit.

Thanks, Gary.

Wait...Gary's not real, is he? Thanks, muse. I was a little confused.

I've been trying to stop the short story train, and have one more piece I want to finish before rolling up the ol' sleeves and tackling revisions on Rock Gods and Scary Monsters.

Really...I'll stop after one more short story. I promise.

Stories I Couldn't Let Die

I've been reading some of my older stories, bits that have collected their fair share of rejections over the past couple of years. Most of them stink. I'm working on a story graveyard as we speak.

I just couldn't let two of them die. "Aunt Tessie's Burden" is one of my personal favorites, although the premise is pretty cliche. My first rejection for this piece was a glowing "final round" from Shimmer. After a year in the wilderness, you can read it at Bending Spoons.

The other story, "Uncle Bobby", is in the current edition of The Absent Willow Review. It too racked up plenty of rejections, but I couldn't let ol' Bobby die. Well, at least not until someone read the story. ;)

We had a dusting of snow in Northeast Kansas, just enough to make the students complain about having school. Isn't life grand?

Enjoy the weekend.

Top Ten Giant Creature Movies

...as chosen by me. You don't have to agree, of course, and I'd be glad to entertain dissenting comments.

10. Lord of the Rings: Return of the King 2003

Anyone afraid of giant spiders? Shelob is, in my humble opinion, the most terrifying of the eight-legged freaks on film.

9. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

Giant squids are awesomely frightening. I look for them (and sharks) every time I swim in the deep end.

8. The Blob 1958

Don’t watch the remake; the original features Steve McQueen. Steve McQueen. The blob, in some ways, is the ultimate giant monster, growing larger as it ingests more…um…food.

7. Ghostbusters 1984

Weird. Funny. Scary. Best movie of the 80s. “This Mister Stay-Puft is okay. He's a sailor, he's in New York. We get this guy laid, we won't have any trouble…”

6. Jason and the Argonauts 1963

I (heart) Ray Harryhausen. Talos is scary. The Hydra is scary. The skeletons, although normal size, are scary (until they fall off the cliff).

5. Clash of the Titans 1981

Did I mention I (heart) Ray Harryhausen? Obviously the Kraken is one bad monster. Remember the giant scorpions? The best parts of this movie feature all those very special creatures created by Mr. Harryhausen (really the only reasons to watch Clash…).

4. Jaws 1975

Okay, not technically a “giant” shark, but a pretty damn big one. “Farewell and adieu to ye fair Spanish ladies…”

3. Them! 1954

I love schlock and cheese. Them! starts out as 50s noir, then flirts with goofy sci-fi, finally staking its claim to great giant creature feature. The image of the giant ants dropping tiny human remains outside their mound scared the poo out of me as a kid.

2. King Kong 1933/2005

Both incarnations are awesome, for different reasons. The mid-third of Peter Jackson’s take on Kong is pure monster-lover orgasm. The giant bug sequence is truly shiver-inducing.

1. Godzilla (Gojira) 1954

He is the King of the Monsters, and he doesn’t even need that much screen time. Before Godzilla became a joke, he was a scary, scary incarnation of humankind’s atomic fears.

So, what are your favorite big brute movies? What did I miss?

More on Morgus

Thanks to all for the lovely Dickinson comments and thoughts on the blahs. All great ideas--read a good book (always a motivator), watch classic movies, music, etc.

What pulled me from the blahs yesterday? On the way to pick Owen up after school, a story idea that had been germinating for a while started popping into place without much conscious solicitation. I cranked out the first half after the kids went to bed. It's a historical piece based on something I learned at the natural history museum: honeybees will carry sick drones outside of the hive to die. What if you were the only healthy bee? Would that make you sick?

By the way, Morgus was a TV personality from the late 50s-80s that hosted late night horror/sci-fi films. You can read more on the Interweb^TM at the official Morgus website.

Tomorrow: to celebrate the release of Monstrous, I list my top ten giant creature films.

Writer's Blahs

I'm not going to call it writer's block, because I don't feel blocked. I feel unmotivated.

Look, I even burned some precious writing time creating a new title banner for the blog. The font is Morgus the Magnificent, the quote "I'm nobody...who are you?" is from an Emily Dickinson poem.

You read that correctly: Emily Dickinson.

I'm just as scared as you are.

Now, how to fight the blahs?

Home Again, Home Again

Max woke in the night with a 102 fever. (Fahrenheit of course...if that was Celsius--yikes!) So Daddy has an unplanned day home with the little one. He seems okay now, well doped on Motrin. I'm pretty sure he's contending with his two-year molars. Earlier today, we spent about twenty minutes naming the various characters in Richard Scarry's Funniest Storybook Ever (a holdover from my own youth).

When he naps this afternoon, I'm going to try and edit a short story I wrote last week, "Tommy of the Flood", and send off a flash I wrote this weekend. Having kids and balancing a full time job often puts writing on the back-burner, but it sure does inspire some wacko ideas. "Tommy..." was inspired by a nursery rhyme and the flash was spurred on by Owen's favorite book.

And this bit is for Cate Gardner (or anybody else who wondered): Snickers, Owen's pet Holland Lop (rabbit), is a full breed. As such, he has a tattoo, SNCKR in his left ear as an identifying mark. Thus, we live with a tattooed rabbit. It sounds a hell of a lot cooler than it really is.

Have a wonderful day everyone.

Bam! You Missed It. (or you might)

I have a drabble up at Flashshot tomorrow (1/11/09). Read it here on the 11th or here for the next ten days. Then...poof...back into the ether.

Other than that, I'm hereby jinxing myself by announcing I have a third story "being held for full editorial review" at A capella Zoo. The first two didn't pan out, and I didn't say a word, so what's the danger in jinxing myself now? I've taken some lumps this week, including a two-rejection Friday, so I'm feeling pretty brazen anyway.

I'm also not all that superstitious.

Have a fantastic weekend everyone.

Monstrous

Permuted Press's giant creatures anthology, Monstrous, is available for pre-order (at least at Barnes and Noble...more pending). The book includes my tale of beetles gone bad, "A Plague from the Mud"--my first anthology sale way back last March.

I've been waiting to share this cover for a while:

So excited!

A Sonnet, or Why I Like Teaching

I've complained about teaching before, but sometimes it is a real joy.

Occassionally, a student will turn in something like this (reprinted with permission):

A Sonnet

It's hard to concentrate on my homework
with all the things stressing me out right now.
My sister's in my ear, going berserk
and I'm so hungry I could eat a cow.
The chair I'm sitting in feels like a rock
and I still have some calculus to do.
My Facebook friends keep urging me to talk.
[Sister's] shooting Nerf darts at me too.
Seriously this homework really sucks!
I want an ice cream sundae, right now please!
I'm thinking hard but I keep getting stuck.
All of this stress is weighing down on me.
And worst of all, when I'm done with this here,
Mr. Polson's making us read Shakespeare.

Ah, assignments like this warm the cockles of my heart.

The Sub-Basement at Every Day Fiction

My short, "The Sub-Basement", is up today at Every Day Fiction. Last time I had a story there, I took a beating in the comments section, so I was a bit hesitant to give it a go again.

You can read it here. Yeah...it has pulp written all over it. That's my shtick.

Shaking Off the Rust

I hammered out about 1,200 words on a new short story last night, and it felt soooooo good to stretch my writing muscle. On Saturday, when I was struggling with my resident virus, I didn't think I'd want to write another word. Again. Ever.

Glad that's over.

So far I've had three rejections this "year" and one itty-bitty acceptance to Drabblecast for a 100-worder. I used to collect the rejection letters in a Hotmail folder, but lately I've been deleting them. Unless, that is, the rejection holds some constructive criticism. Otherwise *click* (flush).

It's hard to remember how those early rejection letters used to sting. My skin (or my skull) must be much thicker now.

Seven by Seven

I've been tagged (thanks to KV Taylor), and since writing this post sounds more interesting than the other ideas I had in mind, here goes:

Share seven facts about yourself in the post. Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.

1. I have scars on my face from a bicycling accident when I was 19. I'd like to say it was a sweet mountain biking adventure or something, but no, I face-planted on a hill about 1/2 block from my childhood home. When I woke up in the hospital, a local policeman was shining a light in my eyes and asking who was president (a standard concussion-screening question). My response: Some dumbass from Arkansas. (this was 1994)

2. I'm the youngest of three siblings--really an "only" child according to most contemporary child psychology. My brother is twelve years older than me; my sister ten.

3. On the family note, my father developed a malignant brain tumor when I was five. He survived for nine years--a long time for brain cancer--and eventually succumbed to the damaged caused by the cure (radiation).

4. I hold a B.S. in secondary education/English and a M.S. in counseling psychology (school guidance counseling). This pretty much guarantees I'll be in public schools for the rest of my career. (until winning the lotto or that "big book sale"...har)

5. Teaching is the family curse/blessing. My sister teaches high school English (like me), my brother teaches physical education, my mother is a retired home economics teacher, my father taught social studies and government, my brother-in-law is a gifted/talented teacher, my wife is a school guidance counselor, my great-aunt taught math, etc. Spooky, really. When I took my first teaching job, I knew I was "home".

6. I like to mix electronic music (using Sony Acid). Not dance/techno type stuff; more dark/ambient/IDM. Yes, this one comes from left field. I'm a big Brian Eno fan.

7. The Sci-Fi Channel once contacted me as an expert on H.G. Wells. This was in the mid-90s, and I posted a web site dedicated to the writer. The Interweb^TM wasn't nearly this big back in those days. I was surprised, of course...especially since I'd snagged most of my material from a Microsoft Encarta article. I humbly steered them to the H.G. Wells society in the UK.

So I tag seven lurkers (unknown to me). I know you're out there.

Recovery Sunday

After three days battling a nasty stomach virus, I (think, hope, pray) it's over. I'll spare the gory details. ;)

Thanks to said virus, I've written 150 words in 2009. Not a pretty bit of production by any measure. Funny how my priorities change when I'm curled in a ball with a 101 fever. (That's Fahrenheit, of course)

Fifty-Two Stitches started today with Mercedes M. Yardley's "I'm Keeping it Light", a story that seemed made for the launch. I'm sure most of my dear readers have already devoured it, but if you haven't, it's a dark treat.

I breezed over a couple of stories and sent them out this afternoon. They were pretty much good-to-go already, but it felt good to have some sort of writing related production after the plague.

Have a productive and wonderful week.

Keeping it Simple in 2009

Here goes. There are things I want out of 2009. Some I can control; some I can't. Ultimately, I would like to move to a "pro" level with my writing. That most likely means I will still need to teach, 'cause writing just doesn't pay the bills like it used to. (if it ever did)

Pro level won't happen in a year; I know that. But I can do some things to work to that end:

1. Always have at least one story in front of a pro paying market. Right now I have four.
2. Finish revisions of Rock Gods and Scary Monsters and query that sucker by the end of the school year.
3. Write my third "novel"--a dark thing I'm tentatively calling The House Eaters.
4. Write at least one high quality story a month. Quality may require that I set the story aside for at least a week before revising--a challenge for this submission junkie.
5. Give myself some breaks. I nearly chucked the whole writing idea last summer because of unreal expectations.

I would like the following to happen as well, but these items require outside "assistance":

1. Land an agent/sell a book.
2. Sell a story to a pro paying market.

Right now, I'm going to lounge on the couch and watch TV. See, the stomach flu has come to visit, and I'm the latest victim.

Curse you, stomach flu!