Where: Petersham Bowling Club
When: August 5, 2011
What: Jammin, Jammin, hope you like Jammin too.
(I was too nervous and got too smashed to read, but folks got up on stage for me. Too bad the pictures didn’t come out, but picture this: my son, the genius artist, Jack Breukelaar, and the talented Wyatt Moss-Wellington of the Lunch Mothers, up on stage doing Betty Davis Eyes as a tribute to Union Falls. They’d kept it a secret, and it was. Very.
Oh, and Karen Hewitt, who edited came all the way up from Melbourne and also hit the stage (another stage, much later on) with some Union Falls Meatloaf. Yah!
Some pics from the big night.
I’m liking LisaLisaLisaLisaLisaLisaLisa, by Swan, at New Dead Families. It’s absurd, but not heartless, the emotion and humor ring true. And funny, like when he does this: ‘Dear Lisa, is it cold there? Do you miss me? You’re so good and pretty and nice. I mean fastidious, punctual and thrifty…’ and he only does it twice. Which is kind of elegant.
I’m hating terrible bosses. Four people have told me stories about their terrible bosses today. Really terrible. Slaverous bottom-line flunkies. Fly them. If only.
The team from Dog Horn Publishing have selected one of my first published stories, Lion Man, to be including in their upcoming international anthology. So very very cool.
Short stories are still so hard for me. I guess they’re just hard. Doesn’t mean they’re not the best best thing. I’m reading some now, and while they’re fun, they just don’t have that ‘crap, what just bit me’ factor. Reading a great story should make you feel like you’ve been tapped on the shoulder and when you look up there’s no one there. Like you’ve been touched by something and changed forever. Short stories should be startling. Period. So starting now, here is the Holy Shit story of the Week.
Twelve Arrows, by Stephen Graham Jones
The great thing about having clever friends who send you their work is that you get to read it ‘in the raw’, half-baked and oozing with promise and hope and so much life that you will remember the joy of reading it in this state—as a .docx or an attachment or as half-toned pages smeared with the remains of the dinner you stopped eating in amazement mid-forkful—long after the plaudits and glossy cover-art and royalties turn it into a hot property.
For a brief few moments before all that, it’s just art.
Union Falls is live, here, at Fantasy Magazine.
‘I finished the story and it was close, but not there. For some reason this disturbed me more than any other story that I’d written. It meant a great deal to me, and it was terribly important to get it right. But I knew it wasn’t. I showed it to two trusted readers, and they asked the right questions, and I started again, and that time it came out as it should, effortlessly, as if someone was telling me, rather than I was telling it. That’s when you know it’s true.’
You can read the rest of the interview here.
The site is happening, slowly. Thanks for your patience.
Along with my story Union Falls. It’s here.