My article dropped at LitReactor. This was fun to write. In his introduction to Best American Sci-fi and Fantasy, Joe Hill writes:
My awe, though, was not merely a reaction to Bradbury’s thrilling ideas. It was just as much a response to the shock of his sentences, the way he could fold a few words to created an indelible image, much as an origami artist may make a square of paper into a crane. One great verb, I discovered, had almost as much explosive power an any marvelous concept.”
I echo Hill’s awe of Bradbury’s language. It is explosive. Something to shoot for.
Sydney Community College is where I’ll be running a novel writing workshop over eight weeks, starting Feb 3. I think it’s sold out but there’s another one scheduled soon. Last year the students wowed me and broke my heart, in equal measure. Combination bad instant coffee, dry cookies, and being in a downtown office building at night. Unleashes the creative beast in us all.
I’m plugging this for a friend, long time after I said I would, but you should check it out. Thin Walls Press. Some cool little stories. Always room for more word places.
By way of counting-down, I’m going to post a different image of weirdness every few days until blast off. Here cover art from Der Orchideengarten, arguably the world first fantasy mag launched in 1919, and which ran for 51 issues until 1921.
In other news American Monster is now available in ebook format from 0s&1s Press. $6. Thanks to Cameron Pierce and the smart people at Lazy Fascist Press.
Over half full. Getting pumped for this. Looking forward to meeting my students.
The most important life skill is to learn to be loved. If, like me, life has taught you otherwise, and that you are unlovable, you had better unlearn in three, two, one. We’ll do it together. Now. Today is the day. Whatever it takes. I am with you. Fight Club, Glee Club. I’ll be over your shoulder for that awkward coffee with your daughter or your mom. I’ll be beside you at the bar for office drinks or watching the game with your dad or your room mate or playing Orphan Black with some chick in China or letting your new brother-in-law into your studio. I’ll be with you on that blind date or Facebooking her afterwards, or holding your newborn for the first time or taking your grandson to Mickey D’s or wondering if your ex will get the kids back by dinner time Sunday or typing ‘The End’ all alone, because you aren’t. I am with you in Rockland. Allen, how are you, you old so-and-so? You are loved. Love is the crumbs you’ve left in the forest (eyed by wrens atop the Golden Arches, fuck-you, this is my grandson). There are some crumbs left and it isn’t quite dark yet (pick up the phone). There’s still time to get out (the leaves are golden, the Aspens call). Still time to get home (the wolves are a dream). Where he waits.
Because Charlie Watts. And because it’s Friday, and I crushed, like six deadlines. And because it’s wine time.
And because the bodies of those deadlines are a bridge back to the manuscript. What a beautiful buzz to be out of that rut.
The Bridge, picked up by one of my favorite mags, Spinetingler.