WIP Wednesday: Seeking Advice

So...October looms.

I love the month, of course. I love being an English teacher during October. I love the camp, the cobwebs, the creepiness of it all. For one month, overwrought horror tropes are okay: spiders and skulls and moldering tombs...

I've rearranged my teaching schedule to squeeze in a little more of the macabre this year. We always read a little Poe, a bit of H.P. Lovecraft ("In the Vault" is pretty accessible to high school students), and the occasional monkey's paw, but I need a few more stories, nothing which might find me out of a job, but something the kids might like to read.

So...suggestions? Anyone have a great ghost story we should tackle? Something delightfully dark yet more camp than vamp? Maybe I could throw in a little M.R. James or E.F. Benson. Public domain works tend to be a little less risky (because of their age, not the copyright status). Of course, I'm always open to something a little more contemporary...what are your favorite short works of terror and the supernatural?

A Little Nostalgia

I received a rejection in the mail yesterday. The "snail" mail. The good old-fashioned paper mail. Take a look at the picture--do you see the wrinkles and coffee stains on the right side of my SASE? Inside: two note cards with hand-scribbled comments about what worked, and what didn't, in my story.

Ah...nostalgia.

At the end of Mr. Gaunt and Other Uneasy Encounters, John Lagan includes story notes with a little discussion about sending/receiving actual paper correspondence with editors. I couldn't help but feel something has been lost in the era of quick-click email submissions. Granted, everything happens so much faster now, but, especially as a child, I loved the feeling of waiting for the mail. My wife laughs because I sometimes I still have that childlike enthusiasm.

How many of us would keep writing if each story (and rejection) was sent in the regular post?

On the Way to the Cooking Section...

My wife and I went to Borders over the weekend to buy a vegetarian cookbook for her sister's birthday. I thought I'd swing through the horror section, just for giggles, and what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a fat stack of Blood Lite II. I thought the street date was this Tuesday (as listed at Amazon and others), but surprise, surprise.

My father-in-law (we were visiting for the weekend) insisted on going out and grabbing a copy. He even made me sign it. I'm also quite embarrassed to say, he asked the clerk for the "Aaron Polson" book. I tried to explain I was just a nobody in book loaded with familiar names...of course the store computer offered a blank, item not found screen.

Let's not even talk about the extended family questioning me about being a horror writer...

So Long, Thanks for all the __________

I'm out of town for the weekend, but leave you, dear readers, with the following debris:

Another installment of The Borrowed Saints and the rip-roaring conclusion of "Black Medicine Thunder and the Sons of Chaos".

Enjoy your weekend.

Works Not in Progress Thursday

I can't seem to finish a story.

Oh, I've been writing them, but each disappoints in the end. I'm sure there's a few possible reasons for this:

1. I've forgotten how to write.
2. I'm more critical of my work now.
3. I'm more critical of venues to which I'll send my work.

On #1...I hope this isn't true. I still "get" it. The words are still there. I keep scribbling little notes, typing sentences, developing characters, putting them in unfortunate situations....

So maybe it's #2. I like some of what I've written lately, but I don't love it. I should love it, right?

And I know #3 is part of the equation. In the beginning, I was happy to have a "yes" from anyone. I'm just not there any more. Pay and prestige aren't the only deciding factors--I want to send something that is a fit for the magazine/anthology/etc. With more experience, I find the list of possible markets for any particular story grow smaller (and smaller).

So, yeah. Working. Writing words. I suspect I need some dedicated editing and revision time...

I've been reading, too, and falling in love with much of what Kelly Link writes. If you're unfamiliar with her work, "The Specialist's Hat" is a good place to start. Don't be surprised if you finish the story with more questions than answers.

(By the way..."Black Medicine Thunder and the Sons of Chaos" finishes this week at Red Penny Papers)

A Little Weird

Head over to Everyday Weirdness to read "Bona Fide King of His Realm" today.

(And don't say I didn't warn you.)

On Monuments

I took the family to Council Grove, Kansas, this weekend, a place I jokingly referred to as "the dark heart of Kansas". Council Grove has its fair share of history--for several years it was the last stop heading southwest on the Santa Fe Trail. Last stop before Santa Fe, that is...

The Kanza people used to live around Council Grove, and our fair state takes its name from their tribe. In an act of cruel, bitter, irony, the last Kanza were forced out of Kansas to "Indian Territory" (now Oklahoma). In 1925, a section of riverbank gave way south of town, spilling forth the remains of an anonymous Kanza warrior and his horse (they were often buried with a favorite mount for the "next world"). Local citizens erected the thirty-five-foot high monument seen in the picture, entombing the warrior and his burial paraphernalia in the base of the structure. The Kaw Nation, a self-governing native tribe, now owns the land around the monument. They've constructed the Kanza Heritage Trail through Allegawaho Memorial Heritage Park, a beautiful, 158 acre plot of the Flint Hills.

Being in the presence of such history stirs thoughts of one's own mortality. What monument, if any, do I want to leave behind?

My wife has suggested writing is an "attempt to gain immortality". I hate to tell her how much of my work simply exists as electrons in the virtual ether. One big EMP* and WHAM! But maybe she's right. Maybe.

KV Taylor asked a great question on Saturday, and I'm paraphrasing here...

Would you keep writing if you knew you'd never be published again?

I commented I would keep writing, being a stubborn bastard, but only because I don't think I could believe nothing would be published again. Really, what's the point in trying to communicate (reader/writer relationship) without someone on the other end of the line? I'm not scribbling notes in a personal journal all those hours locked away in The Lavender Man Cave.

And then there's this: On Friday, I began posting The Borrowed Saints, a YA book which I wrote last year. I like the book. I love parts of it. But I won't query it; I'm not looking for a publisher. I'm giving it away, even if only one person reads it. (I hope at least one person reads it.)

Why give it away? Is it a gambit to find an agent/publisher/audience? (And Thanks, Mr. Fowler, for the question.)

Hell no. I'm not so brazen (or foolish) to think any of those things would happen.

I learned early on in this "writing game" I can only control so much. The universe will unfold as it will. See the revelation of the anonymous Kanza Warrior only after his people are shamefully forced from their homeland for proof. "We were here...we are here...we will always be here..." he seems to say. We can pretend to shore away for the future, our monument making, but all we really have is the now. The future belongs to the future.

And for now, I love to write and want to share my work.

Hello, I'm Friday

And for the next ? weeks (as long as it takes, I suppose), you can hip-hop on over to http://borrowedsaints.blogspot.com and read installments of The Borrowed Saints. Yes, I'm posting the whole $^#&@* thing until it's out there, free for the taking.

Why?

Because I can, I suppose.

Because once upon a time, this man:

Thought it would be a good idea to record a live album in prison (with inmates as the audience), and he was right.

I find that a wee bit inspiring. The lesson? Just do it.

The Proverbial Sh*t Hits the Fan

***please forgive any spammy emails from my address...I've been hijacked, again***

I failed to mention yesterday's installment of "Black Medicine Thunder and the Sons of Chaos" at The Red Penny Papers yesterday (bad writer!). Oh yes, things go from bad to severely f*cked this week, or as Max would say, "What the heck?"

(We've worked so hard at keeping the little scamp's language clean. Can't you tell?)

Also, review goodness from ScaryMinds re: Dark Pages Volume 1...

"And Cargo by Aaron Polson calls to mind the best of Romero in a sort of sifting through the ashes of post apocalyptic society way."

Awwww...I conjured Romero. (I'm not even sure if the things out there in the dark were zombies. Hell Heck, this review at ASIF suggests it was a vampire apocalypse. Now I'm confused.)

WIP Wednesday: Flashing

Head over to Eclectic Flash for "A Little Bit for Braz" in their September 2010 issue.

As for WIPing...I'm hammering away at the end of a longish piece, "Down There", and putting the icing on a flash story for NPR's Three-Minute Fiction contest. Sorry, the NPR contest is only open to U.S. residents. And sorry again, if you're going to write a story better than mine (which is likely), you aren't allowed to enter.

Kidding, of course.

So, in interest of the end of "Down There", which is more frightening:

1. finding a mutilated body

2. a missing person but signs they may have been mutilated

I don't usually do gore, but the story calls...

Certain Commitments

Sometimes, I have to makes lists. If I don't, too many bits and pieces float around in the fishbowl that is my skull, and then nothing works as it should.

I've been plugging away, in the background, on this year's print version of 52 Stitches. Yes, it's coming (and I think the cover is just lovely, but I'm sick like that). On a related note, there will be no 52 Stitches next year. I've fought with this decision for a long time...I've enjoyed the run (and it may be back from the "dead" in a year), but I can't make the commitment necessary for Stitches to be as awesome as I'd like. Said commitment is partially financial (I'd love to be able to pay more and offer comp copies to everyone involved), but the major factor is lack of time. Family constraints have limited my writing time (even more soccer on Saturdays and practice and homework and drama camp and...), and I don't like to "half-ass" anything I do. The sheer glut of flash fiction markets out there (even more now than when I started 52 Stitches two years ago) makes it a "trifecta" of reasons to push pause, even if it is just for a year. I'm making the announcement here (and not at the Strange Publications site) because Stitches is my baby, even if it is an awkward, wonky child at times.

Secondly, I intend to start editing Borrowed Saints. In edition, I might just post a segment each week here at the blog. I might just post the whole book before it's all said and done.

I might.

Because I can. I'd love to be motivated and inspired and brave, but sometimes I'm just tired and small and frightened.

I guess I don't have as much swimming around up there as I thought...

It just feels like too much.

In Defense of the 1st Person Horror Tale

There are a handful of well-paying (semi-pro and up) fiction markets which exclusively publish horror tales. Go ahead and give Duotrope a good search and you'll see. Some of the best stipulate their dislike for the 1st person POV in their guidelines.

Ouch.

My favorite mode in which to write is 1st person, and some of my favorite horror tales are written with a participant narrator. Think Edgar Allan Poe here, people. Think H.P. Lovecraft's "The Rats in the Walls".

I understand why an editor would want writers to steer clear of the 1st person. I'm sure they've seen enough poorly written, serial killer narratives (or even the ghastly "I die in the end" stories) to choke a proverbial horse. But when the 1st person is done well, a story holds even more sway over my imagination.

Which brings me to Mr. Gaunt and Other Uneasy Encounters by John Lagan. I'm only two tales into the collection ("On Skua Island" and "Mr. Gaunt"), but Lagan has a way with weaving a 1st person story ("On Skua Island") which really left me with the chills. I ran up the stairs from my darkened basement on the way to bed after reading (I have no shame). A 1st person narrative has a way of drawing a reader into the story that doesn't always happen in a more objective POV. When that narrator tells his chilling tale and ends with "I'm feeling rather uneasy tonight," well, I am too. Mr. Lagan's prose is rather thick if not outright baroque, but he has a solid sense of pacing. He plants a seed early, and when the reader returns to find the fully flowered monster, wow.

So editors, I understand. I know the pitfalls of poorly written 1st person horror. But please, please be willing to see the benefits of a well-crafted tale, regardless of the narrative POV.

Five Things for Friday

Okay, so here are five bits and pieces I've enjoyed 'round the next this week for your weekend reading pleasure:

1. Jeremy D. Brooks ballsy manifesto and cover art for his novel, Amity. Check it out. (ready to download at Smashwords...other formats pending) Okay, so that was more than one thing. Sue me.

2. Not that I like the problem, but Robert Swartwood gives thoughtful insight to the Problem of Prolificity. Some sad truths in there, folks. Mr. Swartwood's perspective is always welcome.

3. All 70+ episodes of Axe Cop at www.axecop.com. Oh, YES.

4. Norman Partridge's thoughtful and revealing essay about the publication of his first novel, "The Care and Feeding of First Novels".

5. And finally, something to chew on: "Facebook users 'are insecure, narcissistic and have low self-esteem". Solid research? Maybe not. Thought provoking? Sure.

Have a great weekend, world.

Shocking

Pending edits..."Wanting It" will appear in a future issue of Shock Totem.

I'm sure I'll wake from this dream soon and be pissed someone gave my life such a lousy ending, but for now, awesome.

Thanks to Mr. K. Allen Wood and staff for giving the little story that could a chance.

WIP Wednesday: On Magic

Sometimes, I make up silly stories and they just don't "work". For some reason, the oddments and bits don't gel; they don't come together and construct a cohesive whole. When it does work, it borders on magic. Writers--especially those who write speculative fiction--know the feeling.

Sometimes, I wait until I arrive at school to check my email inbox.

Today, I received an acceptance from Shimmer for my short story, "The House was Never a Castle".

Today, I nearly had a heart attack in my classroom. Thank goodness school had yet to start.

I've lost track of my submissions to Shimmer. I'm sure the total is embarrassingly high. I'm not the sort who cranks a home run on his first at bat. Maybe better that I'm not. But today I feel like words can work magic.

*So, yeah, I have this work in progress on a short piece involving a barge on the Congo River, an almost man who eats beetles, and a monster in the water...just sayin' since it's technically WIP Wednesday.

Five Years? Really?

My wife and I had one of those talks this weekend...where do you see yourself in five years/ten years, etc? These sort of questions were all the rage when I was younger and ambition possessed me, but now, in my mid-thirties with two kids chalked up to my fuselage (yes, that was a nod to the late, great John Updike), I just don't know.

In my "day job" I suspect I'll be teaching in another five years. Possibly ten. Maybe I'll have taken a post as a school guidance counselor by then (I have the license).

The real question, I suspect, is where will I be as a writer in five or ten years.

*ulp*

I don't have the foggiest. I keep plugging along, one story at a time, trying to work on my "craft", trying to churn out a better story each time I write. Sometimes it works; other times it doesn't. I haven't queried an agent about a novel for about a year. Yes, I have some books pending release into the wild and that's thrilling as hell.

But five years from now?

I couldn't have predicted what I'd be writing three years ago, let alone I'd still be writing. They were dark times, see, and I flirted with "literary" for a while. Flirted, and was shot down when I realized I didn't have the pedigree or patience. Now I tell stories no one believes could happen. (That's the trick, of course. Making the unbelievable salient enough to capture a reader.)

So five years from now?

Still writing, I hope. Still telling stories. I told my wife I feel successful if one person I don't know reads a story I've written. A small victory. A tiny one. But still a victory.

Here's to another thirty years of making sh*t up and telling other people about it.

What about you, dear readers? What's "the dream"?

Because Friday is for Awesome

(Again, clicking on the title in the upper left corner of the video will take you to a better screen on YouTube. Just awesome.)

Trailer Schmailer

I've tooled around with Sony Vegas Studio a little of late, and look what popped out:



(I recommend viewing at YouTube; just click on the title in the top left of the video box.)

I also discovered The House Eaters is now listed at Goodreads. Spooky, really.

Thanks to anyone who has read the first installment of "Black Medicine Thunder..." over at The Red Penny Papers. KV Taylor has put together one fabulous piece of digital pulp.

Today, a group of consultants will film me "doing my thing" in my classroom. Spookiest moment yet. (They even plan to show it to other teachers...the fools!)

WIP Wednesday: September Wakes

The first edition of The Red Penny Papers is hot from the "virtual press" and you can read:

“The John” by Corinne Duyvis
“Pluvial” by NK Kingston
“Shaper of Dreams” by John Cash
“Postcard Wings above Blackpool Sands” by Cate Gardner
and...
“Black Medicine Thunder and the Sons of Chaos” Episode 1 by Aaron Polson

I'm a little (a wee bit) excited to see Abraham Reaver (the rather gruff looking gent on the cover) released to the wilds of the interweb^TM.

Thanks to editor extraordinaire KV Taylor for the opportunity to write something fun.

__________

Now, September. What will we do with you?

I'd like to do an editing pass on Borrowed Saints. It has languished on my hard drive since last May. So sad. I have a few ideas for a rework of the ending, so yeah, maybe I can do that, too. I've finished another story for We're All Liars Here. I'd like to squeeze out another 10K or so on that project by the end of September. No promises, though.

Steady as she goes.