Honorable Mentionings

Yesterday was professional development at school. For those of you outside the education system, "professional development" means someone who doesn't know any more than you do comes and tells you how to do something you probably already knew how to do.

That sentence needs editing.

Anyway, I stopped into my classroom during a bathroom break, and (like any good junkie) checked Twitter. It seems one of my little tales made Ellen Datlow's honorable mention list for Best Horror of the Year. Practical jokes aren't fun, but this was for real. I checked. Double-checked.

Yes, "Cargo" from Dark Pages volume 1 was on the list, next to my name. Yes, I've checked it each year since I started writing. Yes the list is very long. This is one of those things folks outside the writing loop don't quite understand. What a lovely early birthday present.

Thanks to Brenton Tomlinson, Alan Baxter, and Blade Red for taking my little story about a strange little girl at the end of the world. And thanks, Ellen, for the mention.

I'm off to Topeka for my first signing today. I will have candy, so at least somebody will talk to me.

Have a glorious day.

WIP Wednesday: The OUCH! Edition

Why I don't submit to many "literary" markets anymore:

This story requires a suspension of disbelief of epic proportions. The title is not great. The story is not original. Again, thanks so much for your submission.

No, thank you for reminding me.

So I am knocking out the first draft of a piece for The Harrow's forthcoming Day Terrors Anthology. I haven't written anything for a specific anthology in a while...quite a while. Yeah, it only pays $10, but I see it as a challenge--plus, I had this dream that fit perfectly. (put that in your pipe and smoke it, 'cause some folks think that's all 10 bucks is worth)

From "In the Grass":

Barry’s face was ashen, drawn. He lifted his right arm, blood oozing from fresh wounds, and pointed toward in the direction of the road, only there wasn’t a road. “We’re lost.”

Nick coughed and spat a dark mix of blood and mucus on the ground. “You aren’t lost…you’re trapped.”

I owe part of the story to the Flint Hills, a unique geological feature to east-central Kansas, and "What Was It?" by Fitz-James O'Brien (as reprinted in American Fantastic Tales Volume 1, edited by Peter Straub).

When I finish the story, I plan on a final editing pass of Loathsome, Dark, and Deep in preparation for submissions early next year. Oh, and Daniel LeMoal, the author of one of my favorite stories from Best Horror of the Year Volume 1 ("Beach Head"), will have a piece in 2010's 52 Stitches line up. (hence the fan-boy squee yesterday)

Wednesday is good. Enjoy yours.

WIP Wednesday: What I Read

I have a "you are what you eat" philosophy about reading. Aside from work written by authors I know personally (including those of you I only know in the digital sense), I tend toward highly recommended material written by acknowledged pros. I'm sure I'm missing some diamonds in the "rough", but reading time is limited (like too much of my life these days).

This is the third year I've picked up Ellen Datlow's Best of the Year--the first year in which the book is solely dedicated to dark fiction (and soley edited by Datlow). While I'm not through with Best Horror of the Year Volume 1 (it's my current "read in progress"), I want to highlight a few high points.

"Beach Head" by Daniel LeMoal is the first piece since god-knows-when that inspired a physical fear response from page one. The set up: three drug smugglers with hands tied are buried to their neck on a sandy beach. It only goes creepier from there. While the prose isn't always razor sharp, the effect is. I felt like I was suffocating while I read.

"The Hodag" by Trent Hergenrader affected me in a different, more nostalgic way. It is a tale that spans decades, and the narrator's chilling realization in the final paragraphs is more frightening than the Hodag itself. What is a Hodag? Glad you asked. "The Hodag" is the kind of story I would write if I could write better. It's a goal.

Some pieces, meh. I didn't finish "If Angels Fight" by Richard Bowes. Not my style, a little slow. But there is variety in this collection. Even if you disagree with Datlow, there isn't a true clunker in the anthology. Not that I've found, yet. It's nice to see what she picks for the best. It's nice to have a sampling of pieces from a number of high quality venues, too.

Yeah, I'm still writing short stories. I've chopped an old piece in half and am reworking it into something completely different, a tale of two friends separated by circumstances (supernatural and otherwise). From "Come Out and Play":

I tried to run; I turned and tried to run down the rough path, but my foot hooked a protruding tree root, and I toppled to the ground, skinning my left palm and striking my elbow on a rock. My inhaler toppled from my outstretched hand and tumbled into a pile of damp leaves. No, no, no, no. The sound of snapping twigs came closer; Gage came closer, but there was another sound—a scratching sound.

The sound of sharpened nails against tree bark. My lungs burned.

So there we are. October almost over (yay! Halloween), but no complete edits to Loathsome. Maybe in November.

Libraries vs. Bookstores & Honorable Insight

Because I needed something to do while sick this weekend, I broke down the honorable mentions from 2008's Best Horror as selected by Ellen Datlow. My copy of the book should be somewhere between Delaware and my house (according to Amazon), but the full list of honorable mentions is available here.

If anyone is curious like I am, you can download the list of all markets receiving 5 or more mentions in PDF here. I listed everything periodical as a "magazine" (even though some consider themselves quarterly anthologies), anything available online as "online", and multi-author collections..."anthologies". These numbers don't reflect stories actually reprinted in the anthology. Black Static was the big winner with 20 mentions. Gives one some idea of the markets receiving notice.

On Sunday afternoon, after watching the Cheifs lose (again...but hey, overtime baby), I took a trip to the library. Lovely thing, libraries. I picked up a few books to read (great display of horror/dark fiction for the Halloween season), and even placed a hold on a book not yet on the shelf (a scholarly work about monster mythology).

Then I went to the book store (Borders, in this case). Blah.

The library always fills me with hope and wonder...so many books...so quiet.

The books store? So many stacks of Glenn Beck books (ugh. How did he get away with posing in a pseudo-nazi uniform anyway?)...so few books I actually wanted to find. Can I help you? the employee asked. Yes--show me the door.

I've expressed my love of used book stores before (more like the library, really). I feel much the same way about independents, but it will be some time before you find me in a "big box" chain again.