It’s the post 2016 world. You’ve got nothing left to give. How will you survive? How will any of us survive? Write till you puke. And stay weird.
Bring me your dreams and your nightmares, your broken bunnies and inflatable friends, your pocket universes and hero’s gurneys and sentence fragments and eldritch ellipses. I promise to make you uncomfortable. Still time to sign up.
Couple of places left to learn how writing weird fiction is done, really, how writing better fiction is possible, honestly. Meet like-minded writers, interstitial fools and visionaries whose gaze is fixed not wholly on the futur/istic, nor entirely on the horror/ific, or the fantastical but which falls somewhere between those cracks. Where the wild things …
I love teaching this class. It can get wiggy. Some new material for a new group of talented writers pushing the boundaries of the heart and mind—I learn more from them every time.
Still some places left, but it sold out last time, so jump in while you can. Can’t wait to meet the whole class, read everyone’s work, and get into some writing.
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.
Over half full. Getting pumped for this. Looking forward to meeting my students.