Got Weird? A New Flash Market

Everyday Weirdness, a new market from the folks who brought you Thaumatrope, is open, seeking:

What’s weirder than a random collection of molecules suddenly, and inexplicably, gaining sentience—and even sapience? No matter what you send, make sure that tomorrow will be different than today.

I currently have an affinity for “mundane” weird, however, I want to see the full gamut, from “mundane” weird to “post-singularity-across-the-galaxy-weird-from-another-dimension.”

In other words, weird flash fiction (under 1,000 words), poetry, audio, and art.

Goals for '09 tomorrow. I promise.

Catch of the Day

I received the nod from Severed Press today; "Grim Adaptations" will be part of the Dead Bait anthology.

Part of the story takes place at a pond from my childhood (in my fictional world, it is filled with zombie catfish). The same pond inspired "The Scavengers Lying in Wait", due in Harvest Hill next October.

These shots were taken last spring. Behind the camera, through about twenty yards of trees, is Greenwood Cemetery, home to more dead than the number of living in my hometown. Damn if this isn't a great locale for a horror story.

The pond used to stretch off to the right in the bottom picture. A buddy and I would hang out on Sunday afternoons and catch dozens of bullhead. We used to freak each other out, too, what with the scores of tombstones within shouting distance.

Good times.

It's Alive!

It being me.

The drive to St. Louis was rainy and cold. Traffic slowed to a stand still in three separate places on I-70, and we saw at least fifteen vehicles in the ditch.

Owen developed pneumonia after a rather intense Christmas day.

We bailed on St. Louis two days early so Owen could recover at home. The drive to Lawrence was rainy and cold. Traffic slowed to a stand still twice within ten miles of our exit. An overturned Chevy Tahoe, lying in a pile of snow ten yards from the road, is a frightening sight.

But we are home safe, and Owen is recovering. I managed to bang out a 3,400 worder, "Grim Adaptations", for the Dead Bait anthology. Fins crossed. I wasn't planning on writing something for that one, but the muse clamped her spines around my throat. My story was inspired by listening to "The Sons of Carbon County" by Amanda Spikol on my iPod (courtesy of Pseudopod) on the drive to Grandma and Grandpa's. Great imagery in that one. If you haven't checked out Pseudopod, you're in for an audio-treat.

I'm spending the rest of my writing time over break (I go back to work on January 2nd) on revisions. I might even crack open Rock Gods and Scary Monsters.

Don't hold your breath. I won't be holding mine.

Into the Void

Goodbye for now, dear readers, and happy holidays.

We're bound for St. Louis tomorrow, and I may (or may not) post again until the stay is over.

All the best in these final days of '08. 2009 is scratching at the door, and I think she is hungry.

2008 In Review: Blah, blah, blah

I'm starting to think about goals for next year, but I can't properly move forward without giving a nod to the past.

My first published story (not the first acceptance, but that's the way of publishing) saw the light of the interweb last February. "Rock Gods and Concrete Altars" is a vignette of small town life, dreams, and tragedy. Any regular reader will notice a similarity between that title and the title of my NaNo effort this year. That's not all they have in common...

My favorite published story to date is a two-way tie between "Reciprocity" in the September issue of The Battered Suitcase, and "Catalog Sales" in Necrotic Tissue #4. "Reciprocity" received unexpected but highly appreciated praise from the blogosphere; "Catalog Sales" features my favorite character to date, a hobo-bookseller from the great depression. I have several forthcoming pieces I'm stoked about, but that's another post.

With an old buddy of mine, I started a small publishing company, Strange Publications. We launched our flagship 'zine, Sand: A Journal of Strange Tales, last Spring. Ed agreed to be the editor because, at the time we started accepting submissions, I had yet to be published. I guess I was afraid of having my name out there, I don't know, but Ed's having a hell of a time and won't give up the reins...yet(and that's good, I guess). Since the 'zine's inception, we've also published Tainted: Tales of Terror and the Supernatural and are currently working on Fifty-Two Stitches.

We started Strange when I was feeling the blues about my writing. I've learned too much to quantify/qualify, and Ed has learned more than he probably wanted to. Hopefully we've helped some good stories find some good readers.

That's about it for the writing/publishing front...I've had other adventures this year: Owen is in kindergarten, Max is chatting up a storm, Aimee started a new job, my high school students achieved "Standard of Excellence" on their state reading assessments. Writing has made me a better teacher of writing (and reading).

As far as what genre I write? Looking back at the four stories I mentioned, one is literary, one is more magical realism, one is dark fantasy, and one is just plain goofy (clockwork rabbits who don't know they aren't real?). I like Cate's comment on my previous post. I like odd. Sometimes the lights go out (spooky); sometimes they don't.

Peace all.