Unquiet Dreams & other things

I am so happy to announce that I just signed a contract with Tirgearr Publishing for a collection of short fiction to be called Unquiet Dreams. Stories old and new will be gathered up in this dark bouquet. I'm so excited! Some of these stories have not been available for a long time and people are always asking me about them, so I finally stirred myself to put together what I had. Wow, it's quite a lot! The title comes from Yeats' poem "The Stolen Child" so it's fitting that this comes about in Ireland and with an Irish publisher.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

So this is me whispering in your ears with my unsettling stories, little trouts. More news as we get further along in the process.

I have also agreed to edit an anthology for the brand-spanking-new press Fox Spirit Books called Weird Noir. Here's the skinny on it:

On the gritty backstreets of a crumbling city, tough dames and dangerous men trade barbs, witticisms and a few gunshots. But there's a new twist where urban decay meets the eldritch borders of another world: WEIRD NOIR. Featuring thugs who sprout claws and fangs, gangsters with tentacles and the occasional succubus siren. The ambience is pure noir but the characters aren't just your average molls and mugs—the vamps might just be vamps. It's Patricia Highsmith meets Shirley Jackson or Dashiell Hammett filtered through H. P. Lovecraft. Mad, bad and truly dangerous to know, but irresistible all the same.

This will be fun; it will be coming out later this year. I should also have a story in their anthology Tales of the Nun and Dragon (assuming I get it done soon!). Isn't that cover the best?!

Last but far from least and hot off the presses, it's "My Twitter Wedding" over at Asinine Poetry. If you weren't so interested in this week's other publication, my gritty little crime story "Just Waiting" this might be more to your taste. Pure silliness dedicated to my sweetie. Enjoy.

Postcards, Bridges, a Knife and a Quill

I model the latest SL Johnson design with lighting by Garbo

I have got so far as narrowing down the entries in the First Annual Postcard Fiction Contest to a pool of final contenders (yes, Ale! Your card arrived). Agonizing to make the final choice! I may need a glass of wine for this. Alas, I have none. I suppose that could be remedied, but I have so much to do today.

I will force myself to make a choice by Wednesday and keep rereading them in the meantime. A huge thank you to everyone who entered. I may indeed make this an annual event. It was about this time last year that I got the call saying I was going to Ireland. It has to have been the fastest year on record, whew.

Not that it felt like it when I was packing and clearing out my old flat. The horror, the horror. But wherever I may be, I will stop around this time and think of the adventure about to unfold and feel very happy:

“If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper...”
― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited 

 No time to spare for wistful thoughts: much too busy! One of the latest projects: a book trailer for Burning Bridges: A Renegade Anthology. Yes, if you're reading this you likely already know the story -- and that you have no excuse for not getting it! Free on Smashwords, 99¢ on Amazon and all that going to literacy. Don't make me come over there! No, really -- because I'm staying over here. The trailer tells the story of the assembly of our renegade band. Check it out and give it a like and get the book already!




One more important bit of news: I'm writing reviews over at A Knife and A Quill, a site for dark fiction, as you might guess from the name. Lots of horror and crime fiction covered over there. So if you have an interest, drop by and read some reviews, interviews and features. If you're an author think about submitting something for review by the team. Yes, this is in addition to writing for The Girl's Guide to Surviving the Apocalypse and the occasional piece for Un:Bound. Why do you think I'm so busy? My quill is always scratching away.

Writers, who can resist a quill? I remember comparing quill tattoos with Sarah Pinborough at P-Con. Writing: it's in the blood, it's in the flesh.

The Secret to Life, the Universe and Everything

My Ballardian dwelling

Well, it sounded better than "Just another manic Monday." But that's what it is and already afternoon here. I have the excuse of going very late to bed -- mostly due to the nice weather which means Club Karma has their "garden" seating now (can it be a "garden" if it's just tables in the alley?) so thumping bass wafts out along with drunken hooting and hollering conversations that get funneled up to the cul de sac outside my bedroom window and into my Ballardian dwelling.

So I go to bed late.

A few quick things: if you haven't checked out the photos from last week's trip to Brigit's Garden with the lovely Maura, do! It was a grand day out.

My flash story "Biscuits" now appears at the wonderful Postcard Shorts site. Drop by and give it a like or a share and get a chuckle out of it. I've been writing a lot of flash fiction lately because it's a nice break in between longer works. So much of writing and publishing is scraping away day in and day out with no visible results. Nice to write a story, send it out, have it appear sometimes within a very short space of time.

Who knew there was an official Flash Fiction Day? I'll have to assemble links to all mine.

If you need some entertaining, read Anne Billson's hilarious free "My Day by Jones" AKA Alien as told by the cat onboard the ship. Read my write up over at the Girl's Guide to Surviving the Apocalypse.

I've got a short piece on writers' colonies over at the blog for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop; drop by and leave a comment or share it with your friends.

So in addition to keeping busy, pursuing the life you want for yourself, replacing fear with hope and living fully in the now, the secret to life, the universe and everything of course remains 42.

Writer Wednesday: Postcards, Bits & Bobs

The deadline is fast approaching for the inaugural Postcard Fiction Contest! Be sure to get your entries in the mail to me in order to be in the running for that $25 prize. Deadline is May 15, 2012.

I'm interviewed over at Vic Watson's blog about some of my current projects. Drop by, share, leave a comment and be sure to check out her other interviews.

I just got my author copy of ACTION!: Pulse Pounding Tales, Vol 1 which includes my story "Chickens": it's 1968 and some good ol' boys from Bakersfield decide to head down to the big city to mess around with the hippies they saw on Cronkite. Bonus appearance from Cal Worthington and his dog Spot! Editor Matt Hilton describes the genesis of this collection:

Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s I was reading books ‘borrowed’ from my father’s stack of dog-eared paperbacks, that he acquired through a read and share scheme with his friends. It seemed that my father and his pals all shared a love of action tales the likes of Don Pendleton’s ‘Mack Bolan’, Richard Sapir and Warren Murphy’s ‘Remo Williams’, or George G Gilman’s homegrown western books, ‘Edge’ or ‘Adam Steele’, or a Nick Carter: Killmaster book.

Those books were high-entertainment to me and I couldn’t get enough of them, or indeed Robert E Howard’s Conan series, or Lin Carter’s Thongor of Lemuria, or Karl Edward Wagner’s Kane. I loved my stories full of action and adventure, and it didn’t much matter to me where, when, or how the story unfolded. It was through reading those kinds of books that got me into writing. I wanted to emulate the kind of books that I loved to read.

Apparently he's had an avalanche of interest, so Matt's already planning a second volume (and maybe more). The book will be available within days. I'll let you know when it's up. I should tell you too, that for every sale in the first month of publication, Matt will match with a donation of 50p to 'Help For Heroes'. We can all do our bit to help our injured servicemen and women: fictional heroes helping the 'real' heroes.

Of course there's also my story "Horse Clock" in Burning Bridges: A Renegade Fiction Anthology. You can get it for free on Smashwords, or you can get it for 99¢ on Amazon where all the proceeds will be going to to Literacy for Incarcerated Teens, a non-profit organization using the written word to help those in need of a fresh start.

And yes, there's still Drunk on the Moon as well: action packed paranormal noir with your favourite werewolf P.I. If you haven't got this yet, do -- it's a whole lot of fun and I'm not just saying that for my story "It's a Curse." You will rip through this collection hootin' and a hollerin' and havin' a good time. And while you're at it, think about getting another great charity-supporting anthology True Brit Grit.

All right: tomorrow I'll have some reviews for you including Guerilla Blues!

Burning Bridges on Walpurgisnacht

It's a big bonfire night, Walpurgisnacht. Traditionally, bonfires burn and witches fly and the dark night clears the way for the bright May Day. How appropriate that it heralds the release of Burning Bridges: A Renegade Fiction Anthology.

A remarkable anthology of 15 stories by a bunch of writers who let their imaginations flow around the theme of burning bridges. You can get it for free at Smashwords, or you can get it for 99¢ at Amazon and 100% of authors' proceeds will be donated to Literacy for Incarcerated Teens, a non-profit organization using the written word to help those in need of a fresh start.

Special kudos must be given to Fiona for the fine cover, Heath for the editing & assembly, and Ben for formatting the ebooks. Well done! Be sure to drop by L Vera's blog to read interviews with the authors, too.

Featuring:

Dead Weight ~ Allan Leverone
The Beginning of the End ~ Paul D. Brazill
Unforgettable ~ Julia Madeleine
A Freeway on Earth ~ Heath Lowrance
Horse Clock ~ K.A. Laity
Disciple ~ Mark Cooper
Punishment/Lola ~ Darren Sant
Asylum ~ George S. Geisinger
No Turning Back ~ McDroll
The Importance of Blood ~ Edith M. Maxwell
The Last Injustice ~ Benjamin Sobieck
An Idea for Murder ~ Tace Baker
Safety First ~ Joshua J. Mark
Killing Deities ~ L. Vera
A Gift ~ B.R. Stateham


"Living well is the best revenge." -- George Herbert, Jacula Prudentum (1651)

Six Sentence Sunday: It's a Curse, Round 2

Six Sentence Sunday has rolled around again. Drop by and see all the offerings at the Six Sunday blog. Today I offer another taste of "It's a Curse" because the eBook of Drunk on the Moon is already out and the print version arrives this week. And because I had such a hard time choosing just six sentences from the story. So here's another half dozen from when Roman Dalton, the werewolf PI, meets the woman he's supposed to be locating:


Jameson smiled, then looked thoughtful. "There's something odd about you."


"I missed the Paris fashions this year, so I'm out of season. Imagine my embarrassment."


"You're not what you seem."


"Neither are you."

In his blurb about the collection, Les Edgerton praised my dialogue in particular. Very kind words, indeed! You'll enjoy this anthology -- I guarantee it.

Publication: Drunk on the Moon eBook

Start spreading the news, as Francis would say. Drunk on the Moon is now available as an ebook -- print version will be available next week. Read it, review it, rate it! Releasing a book these days is like throwing a message in a bottle into the ocean. Let's hope the tide catches ours. A fabulous collection:

'Roman Dalton, your common or garden werewolf Private Eye, first howled for the people behind Dark Valentine Press over two years ago, and now he’s prowled back into their lair!'

The Drunk On the Moon stories:

Drunk On The Moon/ Before The Moon Falls - Paul D Brazill (UK/Poland)

The Darke Affair -Allan Leverone (USA)

It's A Curse -K A Laity (USA/Ireland)

Insatiable - B R Stateham (USA)

Fear The Night- Julia Madeleine (Canada)

Getting High On Daisy -Richard Godwin (UK)

Silver Tears - John Donald Carlucci (USA)

Blood & Alcohol - Frank Duffy (UK/Poland)

Back To Nature - Jason Michel (UK/France)

A Fire in the Blood -Katherine Tomlinson (USA)


OUT NOW FROM AMAZON

AMAZON UK

B&N

OmniLit

More next week when I'm not reliant on the mobile blogger interface.

Writer Wednesday: Postcard Fiction Contest

An inspiration I had: a contest to celebrate brevity in fiction. Write a story that fits on a postcard! Send it to me. I'll choose my favourite and give it a prize -- let's say $25. Entries open now until 15th May, 2012. All postcards I have received through that date will be in the running -- yes, from anyone anywhere in the world. My choice will be entirely capricious and not at all fair as it will be based on my own tastes. Yes, I'm sure the postcard itself could figure into my decision, so choose wisely. Stories remain your copyright, though you must allow me to post them here if I'm of a mind to do so (I will certainly post the winner). Winner to be announced within five days of the end of the contest. Failure to respond to my email indicating you are the winner within five days will lead to me choosing another winner. Anything else I need to clarify? Let me know.

How to do it:

1. Get a postcard.

2. Write a story on it.

3. Include your email address if you want a chance to win.

4. Send your postcard with sufficient stampage to:

Kate Laity c/o
Moore Institute/Institiúid de Móra
NUIG
University Road
Galway
Ireland

Please share the contest with all your writer and would-be-writer friends. Yes, I'm sure it will figure in my research somehow :-)

See our Facebook event page if you frequent those environs.

*This contest funded in part (though not authorised by) the Fulbright Foundation.

Flash Fiction Challenge: Zoo Story

Patti Abbott has challenged folks again on the topic of the zoo: here's mine with apologies to Edward Albee and William Shakespeare and Bruce Robinson as well. So there.
 

Zoo Story

"So, this is the place."

"This? Why?"

"I thought it would be dramatic."

"Dramatic? Why? Wolf howls make it dramatic?"

"Not exactly. That scene was filmed here."

"What scene?"

"From the movie, you know the one."

"No. You mean…no. Which one?"

"The funny one, with those two guys and the drinking and—it's very funny. You liked it."

"It's not coming to mind."

"But there's that scene where he quotes from Shakespeare."

"Who does?"

"Whatsisname…Grant."

"Cary Grant?"

"No, not Cary Grant. The other one."

"Hugh Grant?"

"No, whatsit—Richard! Richard A. Grant."

"Don't know him."

"You do! He was in that movie and in lots of other ones. Tall bloke, gaunt looking, theatrical. He was in the Spice Girls movie."

"What did he play?"

"I don't remember. Anyway that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"He was giving that speech from Shakespeare, right here, by the wolves."

"What speech?"

"Oh, you know the one."

"Obviously I don't. 'Wherefore art thou, Romeo?'"

"No, not that one. The one with 'quintessence of dirt' in it. Oh, you know, it's a famous one. Macbeth maybe."

"No, not ringing any bells."

"About the nature of man…"

"All the world's a stage?"

"No, not that. Oh, you know it—I can't remember now. It was raining down and he was reciting it to the wolves."

"Why to the wolves?"

"Because they were there. His friend had gone."

"What was his friend's name? Maybe that will remind me."

"I can't remember his name. I'm not sure the friend ever gets named."

"In the whole movie? No one ever says, 'Hey whatsyername, answer that phone' or something like that?"

"No. I mean, I'm pretty sure. The film's from his point of view. They go see the uncle and he gives them the cottage and they go on holiday."

"Oh, yeah, I kind of remember that one."

"Anyway he has that speech—"

"He does? Or the other one?"

"The other one, all right. But he gives that speech at the end of the movie and his only audience is the wolves and it's very significant."

"Why?"

"Well, because he goes on to be a great actor and you can see it in that moment. It's the beginning of better things."

"Oh."

"So I thought it would be appropriate—"

"What's the speech again?"

"It's about man's place in the world, the sky above, the ground below and how grand it all is. Quintessence of dirt."

"What does that mean anyway?"

"Like the epitome of dirt, I guess."

"Wouldn't that be a bad thing though?"

"No, not really—I think you're missing the point. It's poetry like."

"But it must mean something. If you're the epitome of dirt, you're still dirt."

"But don't you see—I mean, it's Shakespeare. Poetry."

"Ironic, you mean?"

"Well, not necessarily ironic but poetic. What's the word? Metaphor."

"Metaphor? That's when you compare things?"

"Sort of."

"So, what? The wolves respond to metaphor? Oi, wolves! Metaphorse for me."

"You're thinking metamorphoses. That's changing."

"Evolving. What would wolves evolve into?"

"Don't change the subject."

"What was the subject? This stupid movie?"

"It's not the movie, it's the speech."

"What about it anyway? You can't even remember what Shakespeare it's from."

"The play isn't important."

"The play's the thing—isn't that Shakespeare too?"

"Probably. But what I was saying—"

"Every famous quote comes from Shakespeare, doesn't it? Why is that?"

"I don't know. But the speech—"

"All the world's a stage, the play's the thing, the face that launched a thousand ships…"

"Yeah, but what I wanted to say—"

"Are they all from Hamlet? No some must be from comedies. Wait, Hamlet—that's the one. It comes from there."

"What does?"

"Your speech."

"Right, that's it. I'm sure it is. And the reason I—"

"Lots of good ones come from that play—isn't it bad luck to say the name? 'Bare bodkin': we always had a giggle at that one in school."

"Look, I wanted to say—"

"And there's a joke about privates, too. Miss, we'd say, could you read that part again, we didn't understand it. Hilarious!"

"Never mind that. I was talking about—"

"Do you suppose writers do that on purpose? Put in jokes like that?"

"I don't know. I don't care."

"What was that?"

"What?"

"That little box you threw into the pen."

"Nothing."

"Look, that wolf is trying to eat it. What is it?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Let's go have a drink."

"You're funny today."

"Yeah. Maybe Shakespeare wrote me."

"Ha, that's funny. So what was that box?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Publications: Mandrake & Magpies/Songs of Defiance

Just back from a visit with Elena, Rod and Lydia in Dublin where we also managed to run into Bono, Michale Bublé -- and more importantly @sirthopas and Pádraig. Pictures soon! I've also got some good news to share on the publication front.

First, my short story "Mandrake and Magpies" -- the first story to be set in Galway! -- has just appeared in the first international noir anthology, Dark Pages from Trestle Press' new imprint. The ebook is available on Amazon for just $2.99 and gives you a wealth of terrific works from a terrific group of writer including my pal Mr B, who also made an off-hand reference to the classic overwrought pop anthem "MacArthur Park" in his story.

I'm sure my ongoing obsession with magpies surprises no one; the "mandrake" part may be more obscure, but it's a reference to a Fall lyric by MES (of course, I hear you say) and actually featured first in a 140 word story I wrote (still floating around out there somewhere). I feel a bit nervous about having my first story set in Ireland out there, but I had fun making use of the areas I know pretty well now (and making a small swipe at the Gardai immigration office, grrrr). Fun!

And I think my contribution to the Drunk on the Moon series will be out this coming week: It's a Curse which is, ah, also named after a Fall song (>_<). Heh.

On a different tack, the lovely Alessandra Bava and I appear together (literally! on adjoining pages) in the Occupy Wall Street Poetry Anthology. A wonderful cause and the collection made more poignant by the brutal destruction of the OWS library by police the other night. Ale's piece "Sons of Disobedience" appears in both English and Italian. My "Songs of Defiance" originally appeared in the Bayou Review and was composed after the 2004 election, when despair filled the corridors of UHD. The fight never ends.

Where's Marlon?

Apparently there's a big controversy around the British Fantasy Awards this year: One of the most out-spoken and much-forwarded commentaries came from noted anthologist, Stephen Jones.

I wasn't there and can't say anything about the specifics (which look, by all accounts, particularly egregious). But I can comment on the general issues of awards presentations and perhaps more particularly, small presses in Jones' comments. Apart from the condescending equation of "small press" as necessarily the opposite of "professional publisher" (which is simply ignorant), it sounds like every other awards presentation: how often has the best film actually won the Oscar or the best music a Grammy? Even in benign situations (i.e. outside multimillion dollar industries), people vote for the names they know, not the books they haven't read (that with luck they might finally read when they are still being recommended to them ten or twenty years on). This is how the old boy network goes on and on, not necessarily through outright malice but through "friendship" of a kind. It's just that the group of insiders got even smaller this time around at these particular awards. Ridiculous: sure. But a difference of degree not kind.

An example: there is no "best of" category in the last couple of decades that a Stephen King novel deserves to have won, but if you check the records you'll find that he consistently wins. Why? People know his name. Those of us published with small presses (whose size is no indication of their professionalism)  -- and women, people of colour and queer writers -- struggle to get on ballots because we often sell fewer copies and have less name recognition. So yeah, we tend to look at awards with a skeptical eye or face the arguably ghettoising effect of starting our own awards. We don't begrudge Jones and others' their vitriol, we're simply mildly amused that they've just noticed that awards aren't always given to the best after all.

And yes, I have received awards. And yes, I always give gracious thanks. And no, I don't expect anything to change.

UPDATE: The winner of the best novel returns her award. So far no male award winners have been bullied into returning theirs.

Soundcloud

A new way to spread sound -- well, newish. It's been getting a boost, mostly via other social media outlets and DJs. Of course now that people like me are starting to use it, the DJs are looking for something new. Way to suck the cool out, eh?

My page at Soundcloud features things you might have heard before: a couple of the conceits and an early reading of "Rothko Red." I got a new digital recorder, so I'm going to put more things up with luck a little more regularly. Maybe even some music...

Yes, still working on getting the Rome photos online. A good number added since you last looked. I'll tell more about my adventures when I get a moment. Still catching up from being gone and working on a million and one things. Life may slow down a little by, oh let's see -- May?

Scarry Night: Miss Lonely Heart

This is a flash piece for a challenge put up by the ever resourceful Patti Abbott: for the rest of the entries pop on over to her blog. The link was the line "I really don't mind the scars."

She seemed so small at the big table, a drink with the palest hint of green beaded with sweat next to the flickering candle. His heart swelled. He knew he wouldn’t tell her—at least not that night—that the emotion flooding his ventricles was protectiveness. She was so self-sufficient, what with her little candy shop and her scrupulously kept accounts.

He had seen them—and her—when he first figured out the clues. Her username ("candyheart") and her avatar (the gift-wrapped 1lb dark chocolate truffle box) added to her "self-employed" designation and a few casually dropped references to the chocolate trade. You didn't have to be Sam Spade to connect the dots.

"Tabitha?" He added the question mark to his voice in order to play the part of the uncertain swain.

She smiled. "It's you." Her hand thrust out awkwardly and he enclosed it in his large paw, feeling a surge of satisfaction that felt so primal, so right. It took all his strength not to enfold her in his arms at once. Calm down, you've got a lifetime.

The drink, she explained, was zubrowka, a kind of Polish vodka with some sort of grass in it. Normally he'd find such a thing unhygienic, but because it was her drink, he got one, too. The cold bite of that first sip sealed the night for him. He didn't usually drink but there was something so clean about the taste, he knew it was a sign.

Talk came easily, just as it had online. Over the flank steak Tabitha confessed, "I still think of you in my head as Number 7." The pink blush on her cheeks did something to his insides. They churned like hot taffy.

"It's not actually Number 7. It's Double O seven," he corrected her. "It's from a movie—actually a series of movies." The vodka made him feel expansive, he forgave her misunderstanding easily.

Her laugh tinkled like broken glass. "When you said it out loud, I remembered at once. James Band!"

"Bond."

She smiled. "That's the one!"

The bloody red of the steak as she popped it in her mouth increased the warmth he felt from her nearness and the drink and the night. "I have something to show you," he said feeling the heat a little too much on his brow.

"I know," she said, smiling yet, though her eyes grew serious.

He looked over his shoulder to assure himself no one else in the room was paying them any attention, then began to unbutton his shirt. For a moment, he hesitated, then pulled back the crisp linen to reveal the long welts across his chest.

Tabitha reached up her tiny hand to touch his skin. It was electric. He thought her tiny nails, varnished an innocent pink, somehow made the slender fingers even more delicately beautiful.

"I really don't mind the scars," she murmured, turning her bright eyes back to her plate, a crimson flush rising up the back of her neck—visible even in the dim light of the restaurant. It foretold a sensuous nature.

"May I walk you home," he asked, his voice catching slightly as he slipped the raincoat over her small shoulders.

"Of course." Her bright eyes promised so much. Surely the path to her home would have some quiet corner where he could test that promise and take that little girl into his arms. When they crossed Pine at the corner and she pointed off toward Yates, he knew the right place.

"Can we step in here a moment?" He gestured to narrow behind the Chinese restaurant. His heart leapt into his throat. "I-I wanted to kiss you. I didn't know how to ask."

"Shhh," she said and took him by the hand. They walked into the passage and she turned her bright eyes up to him.

"You're so lovely, Tabitha." He rested his big hands on her shoulders. "So very lovely."

"And you're so delicious, Number 7," she said with a smile, her white teeth glinting in the dark.

"Double O seven," he chuckled.

"No, Number 7," she corrected him as her mouth dropped open and she sunk her teeth into his chest, tearing away a gaping hole in the flesh as he clanged back against the rubbish bin. Her grin transfixed him as she wiped the blood across her face and it dripped onto the raincoat. Quick as a lightning bolt she struck again, cracking ribs and growling. Then he saw it was his heart in her teeth, blood still furiously pumping out of it in all directions.

"I love you, Tabitha."

She popped the heart out her mouth with one tiny hand, bouncing it up and down as if weighing it. "I know, dear, I know."

Publications: Plea, Professor and Provocateur

I thought I would have Bend Sinister read by today so I could write it up for Friday's Forgotten Books (maybe I will later today), but at present I don't and somehow I have decided that today is finally "Send out Queries for the Non-Fiction Project" Day, so there's that.

In case you missed it, my piece "A Plea on Behalf of the Small Hat League" is up in the inaugural issue of State of Imagination. Do drop by and leave a comment. Some very entertaining pieces in the collection; I really like the cover, too.

I'm happy to announce that my faux Lear "There was  a Professor of English" will appear in an upcoming issue of Asinine Poetry. And I just got word from Beth Virtanen that my story "Provocateur" will appear in the forthcoming edition of the literary journal Kippis!, so hurrah.

UPDATE: My humorous piece, "Resolutions for Better Sex in 2011" went up on Thursday at Polite Company Magazine, but they neglected to tell me. So drop by and share.

I'm going to get the queries ready and listen to the Punk Rock Jukebox, so if you need entertainment, consider watching Sir Michael Caine do his impression of Dud:

Publications: High Plains Lazarus / Fear and Loathing in Deptford

I'm pleased to let you know that the zombie anthology, Rotting Tales, is now available from Pill Hill Press and it features my short story "High Plains Lazarus" -- obviously influenced by spaghetti Westerns as well as Joe R. Lansdale his own self, but with a mystical twist.

The book will be available on Amazon soon, but until Thanksgiving, Pill Hill will be selling the collection for a discounted rate of $15.49 so if you're thinking of picking it up, that's a great reason.

The story has a funny history, having been written at the last minute as I headed off to Trinoc-con one year and hated everything I'd ever written (it happens) and so started writing something just for fun. It was a big hit, with one exception: I'd only got half the story written. People were ready to kill me for stopping in the middle, but that's all I had. I finished (and read the rest the following year at Trinoc-con) and sold it to an anthology, who then proceeded to slowly reel out the days while contributors waited, and waited, and were reassured that it was coming, it was coming -- and then after two years, they just stopped responding. Sigh. Unfortunately, that's the life of small publishers. I'm glad it's got a home at last.

Over at the Women's League of Ale Drinkers, where the first issue of the journal is available for a mere 99¢ (such a bargain!), you can get the lowdown this week on our design director, Stephanie Johnson AKA the Queen of Everything, editor Vicky Squid and, er, me. We'll be getting to know many of the contributors to the first issue throughout the month. Enjoy!

Publications: "Touched by an Angel" & 21st Century Gothic

I just received a copy of the cover of the new collection 21st Century Gothic which features my essay on Graham Joyce's [AKA William Heaney's] Memoirs of a Master Forger. It was one of those projects that comes out of the blue and then -- typical for me anyway -- I forget all about it and am pleasantly surprised to be reminded again. I had actually overlooked the deadline in the midst of all the tenure folderol and was tempted to beg off the project, but Danel convinced me to give it a go and I have to say I'm very glad I did. I look forward to reading the rest of the collection.

Speaking of forgetting: most of you know how I hate to let anything go to waste, writing-wise. Ages ago (yes, years) I wrote a gruesomely funny little short story called "Touched by an Angel" that I had accepted for publication and then promptly forgot. Yes, the vintage is clear from the title; I'm hoping somewhere the show is still living on in syndication. Anyhoo, eventually I realised that it had not appeared, so I looked into it and found that the magazine had folded, so off it went elsewhere.

Lather, rinse, repeat. That's the nature of publishing. Almost everything can find a home eventually, I suppose. You just have to find the editor who wants it. It's always a tricky thing for me as I have an annoying habit of mixing together things that don't belong together according to conventional wisdom. So at last "Touched by an Angel" appears in Kalkion, an on-line publication. Do drop by and read it or at least tweet or Facebook it (even if you don't read it, it helps). If you like funny and gruesome, you'll enjoy it.

I need to write up the WONDERFUL backstage tour I had of the National Theatre and the production of Terence Rattigan's After the Dance I saw there afterward, but I have a matinée of Women Beware Women there this afternoon, so it will probably have to wait. I did finally get to the British Library to renew my card and do a little work, so more of that likely to happen as well -- it's not all idleness!

Fictionaut, Beckett, Sinclair & O'Brien

My pal Meg Pokrass invited me to join Fictionaut, where I've begun to post stories. Another new venue, another potential way to reach an audience. What should I put there? Any stories/pieces you wish were more accessible? Spending breakfast with Beckett today; but much to do. Found this program by linking to this short that also appeared on the DVD of Ian Sinclair's The Cardinal and The Corpse which my pal Pádraig obtained for me (ta!).

The title of this post strikes me as a bad name for a law firm. Somehow I expect they'd get little accomplished.

Publication: Rothko Red

My flash fiction story, "Rothko Red", is published in the current issue of the FinNALA Newsletter. The Finnish North American Literature Association also publishes the lit mag Kippis, where my story "The Kantele" appeared.

There's nothing Finnish about this story other than of course the author's heritage. Well, perhaps the mood of melancholy could be seen as somewhat Scandinavian/Baltic (depending on where you fit Finland, opinions vary). I wrote this while sitting in the room with all the Rothkos at the Tate Modern (my favourite museum in the world) and thinking about the wonderful contemplative ambiance the paintings give and what sort of person might need that magic very much.

Some of the Rothkos are now over at the Tate Britain with the Turners to give a new perspective of that well-loved painter, especially his late work. So I spent more time at the Tate Britain this last visit -- there was a great Blake exhibit, too, that re-created his first exhibit.

And I nearly forgot: you can still hear the audio version of this story over at Radio Wombat.

Publication: Wixey

My flash humor piece "Wixey" is now available at the literary magazine Wild Violet. Drop by and check out all their stories, poems, essays, interviews and artwork. I wrote this piece last summer while reading Nabokov, which accounts for the sometimes baroque vocabulary. Nabokov has great words.

Publication: Wixey

My flash fiction piece "Wixey" will be coming out in Wild Violet. The story is inspired by the many horror stories that inevitably come up at MLA, the most stressful conference for people in languages and literature because it's where the job interviews are done. It's a short piece, but it came together quite satisfyingly nonetheless.

Wild Violet has also published a couple of other pieces by me: "Corrections to the Rules of Fimble Fowl (for 3 players or 4)" and "Me and Margery Kempe." I think it's safe to say that editor Alyce Wilson appreciates my particular sense of humour.